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theitgirlnetwork · 5 days

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Earn it

Ch. 1: You Boys Really Like to Play Doubles

Note: Okayyy another one in the lineup. Now that I'm back in my account I think I am going to make an update schedule. I hope you all enjoy this new series along with the others and let me know what you think. This first chapter is mostly backstory building but this story is my chance to be messy lol. It will have spoilers for challengers, but also a lot of things are changed. Please feel free to interact and give feedback (constructively) it inspires me to hear from you all. This obsession came fast so I feel like I already have so many ideas for these characters. This one is short because I was dipping my toe in but they will get longer! The aesthetic board for this story will be on the masterlist in a couple hours! Thank you and enjoy!

Tashi Duncan is an athlete. Hell, she’s the athlete. Of their arena. Of their time. She’s good. Great. Passionate. Beautiful…in the words of Art.

Sexy as shit in the words of Patrick and just about every other man who managed to lay eyes on her. She’s something to marvel at. And they did. Marvel. Art and Patrick stand there, jaws slack, eyes locked on the girl as she moves about the dancefloor absently. It’s like the opposite of how she moves on the court. There she’s a predator. Moving quickly, calculated, with strength. Here she’s graceful, eyes closed and enjoying the motions.

It’s their chance. A chance to meet her. To flirt with her. Con her out of her number when she wanders away from the group of women she’s dancing with over to the couches to retrieve her drink. It’d be easier to talk to her alone. They do their best work in a double, and as far as they knew, she had no partner. As far as they knew.

And they’re basking in her attention. Taking turns in a whole new match. When one gets the gift of her gaze the other’s smile drops like a puppy waiting for its turn to be played with, her easy smirk resting comfortably on her face the whole time. Until she comes.

“Made some friends?”

The two of them can’t help but have the same thought. Art was admittedly more ashamed to have it but they both had it. There’s two of them.

“These guys are in the tournament. They play tomorrow.” Tashi smiles, holding her hand out to the girl and helping her step over the table so she can sit down next to her. Both men offer her their own hand to help her the rest of the way but she simply squeezes Tashi’s harder.

Patrick and Art don’t know where to look. Before the girl’s arrival Tashi was the only person worthy of admiration here. She’s stunning, abnormally beautiful. But so was her friend. She had a darker complexion, with full lips coupled with a pretty smile. She tosses her silky dark hair over her shoulder, exposing more shiny skin. Her pink, strapless dress compliments Tashi’s royal blue one so much that even two men with no knowledge of women’s fashion would guess the choice was purposeful. They exchange looks as the women cross their legs in sync, Tashi handing her half-drunk beverage to her friend who rolls her eyes with a small as the boys’ eyes drop to her mouth. “Are they any good?”

Tashi hums thoughtfully, tilting her head lightly as if she needed to observe them to determine that. “From what I hear? Sometimes.”

“Not good like you though.”

That takes them aback for a moment. I mean, Tashi just won a tournament, she’s proven herself enough to pass judgment, all this girl has proven to them is that she’s hot. Who’s she to decide that they weren’t in the same league as Tashi. They weren’t, but who was she?

“You, uh, know that just from looking at us?” Art asks, finding himself sitting straighter at the scrutiny, the unimpressed looks on the two girls' faces getting to him as he wonders what it would take to change them.

All the girl offers is a shrug and a small smile around the straw, earning her a giggle from Tashi.

“You know, we didn’t get a chance to see your match. What’s your name again?” Partick’s brows furrow as he glances between his friend and the two women.

The smile drops from her face and her lips curve into a frown, cheek dimpling in a way that almost has the men forgetting she’d insulted them. “Wow.” she scoffs.

“You’ve got balls. You came to my party to talk shit to my best friend?”

That has them scrambling, stuttered half apologies from Art and sarcastic denials from Patrick. Anything they could blurt out to convince Tashi and her mystery friend to stay. All of it interrupted by their burst of giggles.

“We’re just fucking with you.” The girl leans her head back against the cushion, puffing out laughter that makes Art’s head feel like it’s swimming. He blinks at the feeling and takes his own deep breath. “I’m Heaven, I’m nobody, I don’t play tennis.”

“Nobody? You don’t seem like nobody.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice when he says it.

“Nobody is nobody.” Patrick cuts in.

Tashi gives the girl a disapproving look that would put ice in the mens’ veins, pursing her lips in agitation briefly before turning back to the guys in front of them. “She’s Heaven Whitlock, she’s my best friend, and the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.”

Heaven lifts and drops her shoulder noncommittally, taking a deep sip of the drink. “Yeah. I’m the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.”

The girls left soon after that so that Tashi could take pictures and once they were done, they were pleased to discover that the boys had waited to hang out with them more. The group made their way down to the beach and found themselves talking about all sorts of things. Life, Tashi’s earlier match, tennis as a spirituality. They were shocked to learn that Heaven knew a lot about the sport and could even play a little. But based on how they described it, she only knew enough to help Tashi train.

Patrick felt aggravated and outnumbered by the fact that all three of the others were going to college.

“Okay, so she doesn’t want her only skill to be hitting a ball with a racket. What the hell are you going to school for Miss Ballerina?”

“Train. I can get better.” Heaven shrugs. “Get my name out there too, before I join a company I mean.”

“Can we see something?” Art blurts from his seat, shaking out the ash from his cigarette. “Like your favorite trick or-”

Heaven’s face lights up slightly. Her back has been straight up all night, her shoulders rolled back with poise, but she perks up in excitement at the thought of the opportunity to dance. “I like doing Fouette turns-”

“Heaven, in sand?” Tashi whips her head to look at her friend. “You don’t even have your shoes. You have your first audition for your school’s fall show when we get back don’t you?”

Heaven rolls her glossed lips inward, nodding, eyes dropping to the sand briefly before they return to the men in front of her. “Maybe another time.”

“Another time. There’s gonna be another time?” Patrick leans back in his seat, looking between the two women smugly. “Does that mean I’m gonna hear from you two again?”

“I’ll see Art at Stanford. Heaven will visit.”

“He’s asking for your numbers.” Art offers. “So am I.”

Heaven’s brows furrow as she stands dusting sand off her hands before she helps pull Tashi to her feet. “Both of you?”

“Yep.”

“Want both of our numbers?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh, you boys really like to play doubles, huh?” She’s met with cheeky smiles and a shrug from Tashi. “Well, I have a boyfriend, so…” she grins, gesturing to Tashi. “May the best one win boys.”

The boys crane their necks briefly to follow Heaven’s walk up the hill, her sandals in hand, watching as she turns expectantly, holding out her other hand for Tashi to come up and take. They barely get out their offer for Tashi to come to their room later before she’s making her way up the hill. Her long legs carry her to her friend, whose hand she takes before swinging their arms back and forth, singing along together to whatever song is playing in the distance together.

As soon as they’re out of sight Patrick whips his head to face Art, a wild smirk on his face.

“Which one do you want?”

“So…which one’s your favorite?”

“Patrick’s got more natural talent, that’s for sure, but he’s stubborn, doesn’t wanna learn anything new. Art- what?” Tashi tilts her head at her friend’s scoff, moving to sit next to her at the small desk chair, watching as her friend rubs lotion into her face. “What?”

“Nothing, T, tell me about Art.” Heaven laughs, shaking her head. Tennis. Always about tennis. Poor boys.

“Art wants it more right now. And he’s good. Could be great." She stands walking over to the closet and tugging on her jacket. “You set your alarm?”

“4:30, T. Gotta get our run in and practice for my audition before the tournaments start.”

“Mm, good girl.” she smiles, dropping a kiss onto the top of Heaven’s head. “I’ll have my key.”

“You’re really going? You’re gonna go to their room?” Heaven turns in the seat and watches Tashi put on her shoes. The brunette pauses to look at her friend, walking over and crouching in front of her. Her hands rest on Heaven’s legs as she looks up at her.

“You jealous?”

“Want me to be?” Heaven asks, leaning her forehead against Tashi’s with a defiant look on her face. “I know you’re not gonna fuck them.”

“Really?” Tashi hums absently. “We’ll see. I’ll be back later. Why don’t you call Trevor while you have the room to yourself.”

With that she pats Heaven’s legs, pushing off of the floor and leaving her alone in the hotel room.

Heaven takes her best friend’s advice. She calls her boyfriend. It was a mistake.

Trevor hates Tashi. He hates tennis. He hates dance. He hates everything.

He didn’t use to. He used to think the girl’s dedication was cool. He used to love to come to showcases, recitals, even some of Tashi’s tournaments. But then he realized his place in everything. His place in Heaven’s life. Dance and Tashi, those two things would always come before him.

That’s the hard lesson everyone always had to learn. Tashi was always gonna win when it came to tennis and Heaven. Tashi was Heaven’s first…period. First best friend, first kiss, they’d taken each other’s virginities. They met in middle school. Heaven had been at the community center gym with her mother, running and doing weight training while her mom took a zumba class. Out on the court was Tashi. Beautiful and focused as ever. Heaven chose a treadmill that she could watch Tashi practice out the window from. She’d been startled when the taller girl came into the building and stood next to her machine and asked her if she knew anything about tennis and if she wanted to play.

She wasn’t good. Tashi was determined to make her good enough to play with. Soon enough they were inseparable. Heaven would sit in the stands at Tashi’s games, yelling as loud as the girl playing when she won. Tashi would go to see Heaven dance, offering her applause when she won awards or starred in a show. Having Tashi was intense, but Heaven was intense too, in her own right. They were both passionate about their crafts, and loved the art of working hard. They liked making each other proud.

Tashi was Heaven’s first everything except her first love. That was dance. Her muscles stretching into beautiful motions. Using her body to tell all kinds of stories. Becoming someone else entirely over the course of a song. Heaven would die if she couldn’t dance.

She doesn’t feel like that about Trevor. He was a sweet guy, and she liked him. Despite Tashi’s constant digs that he wasn’t good enough or amounting to anything, Heaven liked him. Not everything has to be an intense feeling. Content can be good enough. I can be satisfied with content.

But Trevor wished she would be normal. He wished she wasn’t so close to Tashi. He wished she wasn’t constantly working at something. At least that’s what he said when he dumped her over the phone.

“Trev-Trevor. Trevor are you fucking serious?”

Dial tone.

Heaven’s lip curls up in frustration as she feels her eyes watering. She throws her phone against the wall, hearing the distinct crack of the screen. “Fuck. Fucking shit.” She…needs Tashi.

Pulling a baggy t-shirt over her sport’s bra and underwear she goes to the bathroom and rids herself of any evidence that she’d been crying before she heads to the room Tashi told her she’d be in. She creeps past her friend’s dad’s door so she doesn’t wake him and alert him that neither she nor Tashi were in bed. As she gets off the elevator on the boys’ floor she straightens as she goes to knock on the door, hearing the faint sounds of lips smacking and moaning.

That makes her feel worse then she did when Trevor told her she wasn’t worth the hassle.

Heaven turns on her heel and goes back to the elevator. Her bare feet pad on the rug of the hotel hallway as she wraps her arms around herself until she gets back to her door.

She ties her scarf around her hair before climbing into the bed the girls had been sharing, facing the window. The blinds rattle as the wind blows and the quiet tears on Heaven’s face are dry by the time Tashi slips into the room and into the bed behind Heaven.

The bed dips slightly under her weight and suddenly hands are planted onto Heaven’s side. “Hev, I’m back…I had fun. Come on, I know you’re awake.”

“Cool.”

“I hooked up with them.”

Heaven turns then, laying on her back as Tashi leans over her, her hair making a curtain around her. “Which one?”

“Hmm…both. We didn’t have sex or anything but…I made out with both of them…and then they made out with each other. S’fun.” Tashi grins, flopping on her back next to her friend.

“They…ever done that before?”

“Nope” she smiles, popping the ‘p’ loudly. Both girls burst out into laughter as they think about the difference between their friendship and the two boys they met, so similar yet so different.

“You’re evil. You fucking homewrecker.”

“Ahh, they’ll be alright. It’ll be a good fuckin’ match tomorrow…winner gets my number.”

Oh.

“Trevor dumped me today.”

Tashi turns on her side at that. Her ever-inspecting eyes scan Heaven’s face before narrowing a little. “No bullshit? Good fucking riddance. Should’ve dumped him when I told you to. Damn, would’ve been an even better match if I knew that earlier. Imagine how they’d play if the stakes were the winner gets both of us at the same time.” She laughs, putting her legs under the blankets. “It’d be fucking funny.”

“Yeah, T. Fucking hilarious.”

Tashi is at the courts by 5 am the next morning, and Heaven is running on the beach. She normally loves training with here friend, but right now, she needs a fucking break. Being drilled about the audition or talking about this deathmatch for Tashi’s phone number doesn’t feel like something she wants to do right now.

Still, her and Tashi’s workout playlist blasts in her ears as she fights the sand’s resistance, panting out breaths to Lose My Breath by Destiny’s Child. That is until she sees something moving out of the corner of her eye.

It’s the blond one. She wasn’t sure which one’s name was which, but to her, the blond one was the cuter one. She liked his smile and he looked like he had a nice body under his baggy shirt yesterday. His tight athletic tank today shows her she’s right. Popping an earbud out, Heaven slows to jogging in place, offering him a smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, you’re up early, aren’t you?”

“Might not play tennis, but I’m still an athlete. I get up at 4:30 everyday. Clearly you do too.”

“Uh,” he adjusts his cap on his unruly blond hair before covering it back up, matching pace with her in her jog. “Not really, but the match is in a couple hours and I gotta explain to my family how to watch it. There’s a lot of them. And Patrick snores.”

“I see. Well, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you’re gonna get with Tashi.” His mouth opens and closes at that, like he’s shocked she knows he’s interested in her friend. “She told me about the stakes for today…and the other stuff.”

He falters in his step at that, placing his hands on his hips as he laughs in disbelief, before pulling her shirt over his mouth for a second to hide his face, ears red. “You guys share everything, huh?”

“Apparently you do too.” Heaven laughs, pausing in her jog to stretch her leg when she feels tightness in it, bending over to work the muscles. If her eyes hadn’t slipped closed she would see Art’s eyes dart to her backside before looking away in an attempt to be respectful. He absently thinks that Patrick is right. Hot girls usually are friends with other hot girls. “But I’m rooting for you…uh…?”

“Oh, Art. I’m Art.” he breathes, willing his eyes not to slip again.

“Short for Arthur?”

“Um, yeah, but nobody calls me that. Except my grandma when I’m in trouble.” He blushes. Heaven straightens, and offers him a pretty smile.

“If one of you is gonna be seeing Tashi, I need to know your full name. I’m sure you can carry the speech to the other one too. If you hurt her, you die, I’ll kill you little white boy, you get it right?”

“Right.” he hums, rocking on his feet. “So, you guys are close huh? She talked about you a lot last night. Fucking hates your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, she won’t have to worry about him anymore. Done. As of last night actually. Tashi was saying she wishes would’ve known that before your little bargain. Then, it would be both her and my number on the line. What can you do?” Heaven shrugs absently. She was flirting a little. Sue her. She’d just been dumped and was finally free to start having fun. All summer she’d been traveling with Tashi, being a good little doting girlfriend, turning down every hot guy she met. Only ever having one slip up, with Tashi. She knew they both were into her friend, she didn’t expect anything-

“So raise the stakes.”

Heaven’s eyes widen as Art looks at her earnestly, looking embarrassed by his own words. “What?” she laughs.

“You can…definitely tell me to fuck off…but…we would be interested in having your number added to the…pot? Fuck, that sounds awful, Patrick and I want your number too. I want your number too. If that’s okay.”

“And you wanna play for it?”

“Those are the rules right?”

Heaven observes the man in front of her. Boyish. Cute. And nervous. He doesn’t know how hot he is. Not like his friend. Not like Tashi. He doesn’t know what he looks like. And he seems sweet enough, nervous to offend them, but determined enough to push past the embarrassment to get what he wants. “Tashi’s rules. Not mine. Do you guys want to play for my number?”

His jaw sets slightly as he looks her up and down. “I wanna earn it.”

“Okay, winner gets Tashi’s number. And mine.”

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afewfantasies · 17 days

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🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - VIII - MONSTERS & MUSES

MASTERLIST

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.6K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Separated by a twist of fate, Feyd-Rautha searches for his betrothed across the wide expanses of Arrakis. He uses his cunning and brutality to inspire cooperation and to track his lady. While in the desert familiar characters Paul Atreides and Chani make an appearance.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: NSFW, minors do not engage, sexually explicit content and violence.

______

VIII - Monsters & Muses

Grinning Feyd tilts his head looking at the man before him.

It's no laughing matter.

His smile is deceptive in nature

Like any predator, a visible smirk

The showing of teeth means danger.

Rotating his wrists Feyd feels the weight of his blades as blood drips around him. Most high lords had people for torture or executions but Feyd-Rautha never strayed from seeing what the men who tried him were made of. Down to the sinew. There was an intimacy to using his blades and a ferocity that couldn’t be undermined by his slightly amused persona. Feyd’s viciousness and vitriol lies in his relentlessness, his patience, his commitment to seeing everything through. There was nothing he wouldn't do for you, no stone he wouldn't turn in the pursuit of your retrieval.

Feyd enjoyed an audience. He hadn't built his reputation on kindness. He needed people to tell of what they'd witnessed. He hoped word would travel fast that the Harkonnen heir flayed two men for their participation in your abduction. Word would travel that he had done it with a smile, without mercy, or hesitation. They would tell tales about his unsightly appearance. Crimson blood against his alabaster complexion, guts all over his clothes. About the other men he’d killed violently before freeing these two of their skin. People would recall how he’d stood up for hours, how he hadn't stopped looking for you, how he hadn't tired of doling out grave punishments. There would be no quick deaths, only long drawn out painful ones. He could hear the whispers declaring him to be someone monstrous. He could see his staff trembling as they brought his refreshments. He could feel the fear dripping from every person around him. He didn't want to feel any kindness if it wasn't from you, there was no warmth or light in his world in your absence and everyone would feel the darkness your absence brings.

Fear went a far way further than respect, so Feyd used that to his advantage. It’s a vulnerability to be exploited. He has taken note of everything, tracking the men who scurried off like rats. They would fall into his traps or lead him right to you. He noted that the Fremen were more angry than anything else about his decrees but so long as you were gone every man within his control would suffer his same fate. He’d cleared the city of Arrakeen of the women and children, he’d even managed ambushes in several neighbouring cities in the hope of your retrieval but it had been unsuccessful thus far. Instead of executing the most vulnerable, he did far worse by placing them in a harem to give their men hope of getting them back. Then Feyd pointed missiles at the structures filled with the vulnerable. His methods were malevolent but so was your abduction.

His woman and unborn child taken right under his nose. Just several feet away within his palace without commotion or any major resistance. Your abduction has the Baron’s stench all over it. Feyd makes a promise to himself that the Baron’s punishment will be the worst of them all. Leaving the torture chambers he heads to rid himself of the matter and blood. Feyd’s thoughts are on you as he tries to tune into the connection he’d felt that led him to you. He tries to focus on that connection hoping for a miracle. He wants you to be alright, he wants you to feel safe, to know he’s coming, that no further harm will come to you. There was nothing Feyd-Rautha wouldn’t do for you, he needed you to know that, needs you to know how hard he’s trying, he feels so close and yet so powerless. Looking up at the mirror in front of him Feyd slams a fist breaking the glass out of anger, shattering his reflection. He didn’t want to see himself without seeing you. Blood drips from his knuckles into the sink and Feyd turns on the water to wash it down with him. Staring into the drain he watches the water flow into an abyss, unseen and unheard of again. Shutting the water off he looks at his hands. He’d spent far too much time training to be a killer and far too little being a protector. His exhaustion has been stretched far beyond what is capable for the average man but there had never been anything average about Feyd. Looking at the blood pooling on his knuckles he turns on the water again watching it wash away the blood. Unclenching his fists he wraps a bandage on his hand to stop the bleeding and swelling. He looks at himself in a shard of glass when an idea settles his nerves. In his torture of a holy man he found out the secret to killing sadworms. As sacred fixtures of Fremen culture it would be an ace in his pocket. Without the fear of sandworms the Fremen’s remote hideaways could be easily accessed.

Swallowing hard Feyd nods to himself as the plan's conception grows. A slow smile creeps onto his face, he now had his terms and they would be met. Rushing to his war council Feyd looks at the live maps of the planet settling on the view of the most fortified Fremen city. The stronghold was undoubtedly where you would be held. Grabbing a pen and parchment he prepares a scroll and then has a Mentat prepare a translation with his terms to be dropped. He would not go begging. He would not jeopardise your safety with perceived weakness but what he will do is exploit the people who would keep you from him by all means.

——

You squirm trying to worm yourself free of the through restraints binding you to a stone pillar, the heat is relentless and your still suit can’t seem to produce enough water. You’re alone, echoes and the odd person coming to check on you are the only signs of life in your vicinity. It had been a gruelling trek, then you were sitting in a cool room when a battle ensued. Then after it was all said and done you were being passed off from Harkonnen traitors to Fremen soldiers. The Fremen soldiers had done the right thing with their murder of the Harkonnen. Kill or be killed. Instead of killing you the Fremen were gentle, allowing you time to maintain a slower pace and even going underground when the sun peaked, stifling you. Your concept of time is blurred as you sit in this subterranean cavern. The heavy concentration of Spice has your abilities and senses out of whack disabling your abilities' potency around Fremen. The whispers tell you that Feyd is wreaking havoc but you don’t fully understand the thick accents and complicated dialects being used.

“Let me go” you demand and a tall man that seems to be in charge turns to face you.

“Not until Usul arrives” he responds.

“You don’t look like a Harkonnen concubine” he muses. “You’re not ugly enough or bald” he mocks. Your abduction had been a coup. Harkonnen men disguised as Fremen. There was only one culprit, the baron who wanted you disposed of along with the Fremen people, what better way to get it done then to have you killed by the Fremen and Feyd end their race in one fell swoop. Then the spice would flow with such abundance House Harkonnen would be uncontested leaders within the imperium and favourites of the emperor.

“We’re being played I want to speak to your leader” you snap squiring more.

“Harkonnen whores are highly trained in seduction, black eyes steal the souls of men. You will make no demands until you see Usul” he says, reciting folklore that couldn't be further than the truth.

“Feyd-Rautha will cause more destruction the longer I’m gone” you warn and his eyes show emotion. His reaction tells you Feyd has already caused considerable damage. You watch as he makes calculations weighing his options.

“We wait for Usul” he concludes.

“Usul had better hurry” you comment and the man pauses looking at you over.

“You’re unarmed, bound and captured but you have no fear - you must be Fremen'' he scoffs. But it’s not the case, you just don't fear them for fear's sake. You’ve done absolutely nothing to warrant their vengeance aside from your allegiance to Feyd-Rautha. Feyd who makes all of their darkness look light. You hold his blue eyes and before you can conjure the voice the mans smile blurs your vision again causing a sting. “Perhaps not” he mocks, taking off one of his scarves and putting it around your mouth. The gesture is a charity and not an attempt to gag you. Here in the desert, strength honours strength. Swallowing you feel sympathy for what must be done.

“Have you ever known peace? Freedom?” You ask.

“No” he says regretfully.

“If Arrakis were no longer at war what would you be other than a soldier?” You ask and he pauses, unable to conceive that reality. It’s an awful truth and reflection of the horrors of house Harkonnen and the Emperor have caused the people of this planet. How could they subject people to this for generations? How could you be surprised by how the Baron treats his own citizens subjecting many of them to slave like conditions. When you look back to the man his eyes seem different, the effects of the spice take root causing you confusion.

“Your eyes understand hardship” he comments with wisdom despite his youth. “There are whispers that you are kind, generous and gave people water and aid to a mother with her sick child. Why would you be with a Harkonnen?” the man asks. There’s no honest answer, there’s no logical reason for why. Why had your father had chosen Feyd-Rautha above all other eligible sons with status? Why had your mother agreed and encouraged it the union? There was nothing to explain the magnetism and attraction you felt to him. The quiet reassurance that he was yours, the electricity, the child gestating in your womb.

“Reasons beyond reason or logic, matters of the heart and destiny are not easily understood” you admit unable to deny him even in the face of his enemies.

“Then why would his people give you up?” the man asks.

“To be a detriment to yours” you explain and the man sits. You see understanding before you see recognition.

“I know your face” he says looking at you and it echoes into your subconscious. Your vision blurs again and it takes work to focus on the man in front of you. He closes the space between you and cuts your bonds before stepping back. You hear gasps and realize for the first time you're not alone as angry blue eyes emerge from the shadows. You feel unnerved until the man removes his face coverings. The picture of him comes together as a puzzle. A familiar one. Your jaw drops as you make out a ghost from a past life. Overcome with emotion you hug him grateful for the twist of fate.

“You’re alive” you smile standing face to face with Paul Atreides.

“You’re alive” he repeats, hugging you tight. Angry Fremen comments erupt in a flurry as you take in his face, his new height, his eyes, his hair.

“You survived” you smile.

“And you did too. My father looked for you until he was killed. There were rumours but …” Paul says and you swallow hard realizing how deep the conspiracy flows.

“What?” Paul asks and your heart races, you go to walk out but bump into a soldier, the spice is affecting you tremendously. You look up and see the man who’d been caring for you. Paul emerges with a syringe. “It’s an antidote” he says and you withdraw.

“I can’t” you tell him to be cautious of your child. It’s as though Paul senses it as another soldier runs in.

“Chani, take her to guest chambers,” Paul says, receiving scrolls. Looking up at the woman from your visions emerges. She’s tall, striking and angry. Her strides are powerful, she gets bows of respect from everyone you pass. When you arrive in a room she scowls as you sit. She’s skeptical.

“How do you know Usul?” She asks. Her tone speaks volumes to who she is to Paul.

“Paul Atreides?” You ask.

“Usul” she corrects and you swallow because names don’t matter.

“His father the Duke and my mother were childhood friends. I spent countless holidays on Caladan. Paul and I were friends” you explain.

“Now you’re carrying a Harkonnen” she says with a tone laced in judgement. “Your suits reservoirs are low for an outsider the Harkonnen way is excess so there’s no wonder there isn’t much water left. It’s why you’re so susceptible to the spice. Slight dehydration” she explains without kindness, warmth or affinity. “He’s a monster, Feyd-Rautha” she says.

“He is” you acknowledge. “But he’s not your enemy” you speak truthfully. You know better than most that you’re all victims of the machinations of men blinded by their pursuits.

“The things he’s done …” she trails, shaking her head. She’s so angry her body trembles.

“There’s far more at play then we know, isolation will only further the objective of our enemies. I was taken by Harkonnen and it was made to look like I was taken by the Fremen. Feyd will listen to me, he will not do as I say but returning me will put an end to whatever madness he’s conceived as punishment for my abduction.” You explain.

It had been death by a thousand cuts for your assault.

An inconceivable amount of violence that didn’t seem to shock or surprise anyone. The cruelty of Giedi Prime was unmatched. On Arrakis the climate was brutal as is the subjugation of the people by their reigning overlords. However, life among the people is easy and loving. In stark contrast to the Harkonnen planet. While the Rabban had excelled in cruelty, Feyd-Rautha enjoyed breaking down the minds of men, toying with them, bringing them to the brink and then unrelenting slowly making them lose their minds. He had patience he would start slow, he was methodical, precise and deliberate in each act. He was the ideal weapon of choice, and now all his efforts were concentrated on the wrong place.

Looking up you swallow at Chani who turns her back to you in the thick silence. Her hand slowly palms her own stomach. It’s an unconscious gesture in a moment of deep thought. It lasts only a second before she turns back to face you. You recognize the concern in her eyes. The wavering commitment to her cause.

“He has villages worth of women and children in one of the forgotten palaces. Explosives are pointed at them” she snaps. “He’s desecrated our temples and two cities and now he threatens to tell the guild how to kill the sandworms” Chani says. You swallow hard knowing it isn’t the half of what he’s done. You know the sandworts are consecrated entities to the Fremen and close your eyes as you imagine what Feyd had to do to get that information - likely from a priest.

“Have him clear out the women and children from the palace. Paul won’t let you go back to him. The war will rage on and too many innocents will lose.” She says adjusting the still suit. She begins listing off exit instructions and although you're skeptical you feel drawn to her. It’s not until your final goodbyes that you realize what’s happened. You feel it but it’s not quite you. The alarm in her eyes says she feels it too. The feeling is a kin tothe magnetism between you and Feyd. There’s a fierce level of protection you feel for the woman and you see its mutual. Her hand rests over her stomach as she tries to make sense of it.

Destiny.

You smile at the thought of your child and Pauls finding each other one day. Nodding in her direction the future is promise enough to keep you moving, you follow Chani’s direction hoping against all hope you make it to Feyd.

——

Feyd looks around your room, in your absence and in his rage he had found a way to occupy Leia and his staff. He would not release you, he would not yield to his enemies or the desert. You would return to him. He believed it the same way he had when he searched for you relentlessly. Feys stands looking out into the expanse, the extent of his commitment to your return is all around him. Traitors hang off the city wall and heads line it’s base. It’s unsightly and grotesque and an example of how all life will be until for everyone so long as you are kept from Feyd. Looking at the sun he sighs having waited long enough for word. Every person on Arrakis should be looking for you, the search party should be infinite, you should be in his care. He should be apologizing on his knees. He should be making up for all the love lost. Atoning for his actions, for his shunning, his reaction to your devotion and inability to keep him safe. He needed to feel you in his arms, against his skin, he needed to lay his hand over your stomach. He needed to see your smile, the swell of your breasts, your scent, your touch, the satisfied moans that come from your deep pleasure.

He loves you so much it’s taking everything in him not to crack under the weight of your absence. The humiliation of his failure, his inability to enact your return. It was like Feyd had been castrated and cuckold. No amount of violence could erase that simple fact, no amount of fear he placed in others could remedy what he feels inside. A piece of his heart was alone in the vast desert of Arrakis. In his heart he senses you. Deep down Feyd knows you’re alive but every time he goes to follow the sensations its scrambles ad leaves him disoriented and spinning. He hoped that knowing he was fighting was enough to get you to do the same. To fight for him and your child. Marriage would be his first order of business and then he would not let you out of his sights. People would believe there was an invisible tether keeping the two of you connected. There would be whispers of your witchcraft and strong effects on him.

Heading to his council room he looks at the live map of Arrakis again, there was a line outside the palace with people coming to confess information on your abduction. Feyd’s hand hovers over the missile detonator, the weight of not having you with him mounting. Horrible intrusive thoughts come to him, tempting him to act out of rage prematurely.. Static begins on the iradio, Feyd rotates the dial to tune it. The static continues until Feyd is able to pick up Fremen. Focusing on clarity Feyd tunes it to the very moment he makes out two words in the foreign dialect.

Harkonnen escaped.

It’s all Feyd needs.

Standing he leaves suiting up. He’d always been a renegade soldier and now would be no different. Soldiers straighten as he enters the room storming through the halls with purpose. Feyd cannot jeopardize your well being when he knows there’s a possibility he hadn’t rooted out all treachery. In the event that his uncle had found a motivator more powerful than fear, he had to be decisive and quick. Feyd-Rautha knows it’s a game of chance, that the stakes are stacked against him. Should you end up in the hands of the Baron, Feyd would become no better than the other slaves on Geidi Prime. It would be the final straw. That could not be his fate or yours. Rabban, the Baron and anyone else who dreamed of separating you from Feyd would die. He would create his own family with you. Putting on his helmet as he the aircraft, Feyd allows his senses to set the coordinates. Arrakis seldom reveals its secrets; there were countless settlements, tunnels and forts that only the Fremen could locate. To foreigners all there is, is sand as far as the eye can see with the dunes shifting hour by hour, day by day. He could not depend on anything external any longer, he would follow the pull in his chest. Quieting his mind Feyd-Rautha feels the magnetism in his chest grow as he charts a course in accordance with it.

“Where is the nearest building?” He asks and a few soldiers pull up a map passing over ruins. Feyd stops at the ruins zooming in. He sees heat signals outlining men. Technology had been outlawed by the imperium, especially certain weaponry but the Harkonnen seldom followed the rules. Programming his pets he tosses redesigned hunter seekers from a hatch. The poison will disable a person in seconds and the weapon is undetectable, no more different in size and appearance than a large beetle. “Drop me here” Feyd says adjusting his gun, he preferred knives but getting close enough for combat with Fremen was unwise. “No one shoots” he warns as his boots hit the ground. Feyd feels you close and doesn't want a shootout to scare you into hiding.

“Yes my lord” his men repeat as he drops. The rubble of the building ruins is littered with disabled Fremen.

“Bring them back to the ship for questioning” he commands storming into the caverns alone. There’s an odd sense of deja-vu and symmetry to it. Feyd-Rautha alone searching through caverns and rooms looking for you, while you are acutely aware of how close he is but unsure of how or where he will finally appear. The heat is stifling and as much as you want to remove your still suit you know it's keeping you alive, keeping your child hydrated. Pausing, you hear footsteps and move quietly. The footsteps slow as well. You make sure your face is wrapped hoping the dim lighting won’t highlight the absence of Fremen eyes.

Backing off the path you deviate to hide your heart racing so fast you try to find a weapon in the absence of your own abilities. You try to move quietly but seize when your back hits into a person. Alarms go off in your head as you tense out of fear and regret. Your ears ring, you feel tension in your heart and throat. Behind you Feyd-Rautha smiles as you walk back into him, your body fitting perfectly against his. Even dressed as a Fremen with no skin showing he knows it’s you and places one arm across you pulling you into him. Your iciness thaws in moments. Turning to face him he rests his head against your forehead in relief. There are no words exchanged as he pulls down the scarves covering your mouth. His lips find yours and you kiss him showing him all the love you can muster. Your regret for rejecting him is deep seeded. You pull him close as he stands there reveling in the relief of your return. He could feel the fight in you, feel how much you wanted him back. Feel your need for him. He’d almost lost you.

“Come, let’s go home” Feyd says, picking you up bridal style. He knows you’re weary, he doesn’t need to ask, he takes the lead relieving you. As he emerges from the caves his men watch in shock.

“Kill” he says into his watch and the insect assassins do just that to everyone but either of you. He needed you, he needed silence, to let his guard down for there to be no interruptions. No recounts or recollections of the moment. He didn’t need it getting back to the Baron or the Fremen he just needed you. Walking up the plank Feyd sets you down lifting the hatch and going into orbit while shielded. The absence of life on board is eerie, so is the overwhelming feeling of hope you feel now that you’re with Feyd. The relief is overwhelming, if you had tears to spear they would fall but no water spills from your eyes as Feyd cups your face.

“Are you okay, are you hurt?” He asks.

“No” you respond and he takes your hand sitting you down as he pours you a glass of water. You drink it greedily and his eyes are all over you. After days in the desert you grow self conscious.

“Don’t do that” he warns with his soft lips against yours. “You're beautiful, always,” he says gently. His hand covers your stomach and he stands behind you removing the still suit. He bends helping you step out of it and kisses your stomach, you hold him there against you. The feeling is incomparable. The three of you are safe together and at ease.

“Free the Fremen women and children Feyd. Give this moment to them. They did not abduct me” you confess. Feyd looks at you, his eyes brimming with anger now.

“Who was it?” He asks only to have his suspicions confirmed.

“The Baron” you respond.

With that Feyd walks over to the table disengaging all security measures, letting the vulnerable go. Watching him you feel seized by surprise at his compliance. Unphased by his mercy he hands you another glass of water. You put it to your lips surprised by his lack of resistance. He tips the glass making sure you hydrate. The feelings you have for him are so strong they overwhelm you.

“Feyd, I love you” you whisper, finishing the water and setting the glass aside. He looks you over feeling the very same way. The shock of the past few days hit him hard and all at once.

“I love you … I” he stops turning to back you and you place a hand on his back. You rub circles as he takes his time.

“Show me” you whisper, needing him but he shakes his head in refusal. It stings and you withdraw only for Feyd to watch your wrists.

“Not until the spice is out of your system or it could hurt you and our child. I’ve put you at risk enough” he says choosing your well being over an overdue sexual reunion. The silence is thick and you decide to give him a moment changing the subject to other pressing matters.

“Paul Atriedes is alive, he’s the Fremen prophet you’re at war with” you inform but there is no smirk. No delight in a potential cat and mouse game, nothing behind his eyes aside from a quiet relief for you.

“I don’t care.” he swallows, clicking his jaw. You watch as Feyd fights against his inner animal. “I don’t care about any of it” he snaps with a thumb under your chin. His eyes narrow in on your lips as he sits bringing you closer. “I almost lost you, again” he snaps. His reaction is delayed but the clouds roll in all the same. He cared for the things that belonged to him, he was a protector and you’d been out in the desert because of his uncle's jealousy and pathetic pursuit of power. Sitting across his lap you wrap your arms around him relaxing your aching limbs in their safe place. Feyd watches you intently thanking all forces that you were back to him. He wouldn’t know how to control himself. He slides his hand under the hem of your top placing it on your stomach. One fell swoop and mother and child could’ve been gone.

“I’m here” you say, drawing his eyes. “We’re okay” you add and he kisses your forehead again as the depths of his uncle's treason reveals itself to him.

“I'm sorry for everything I haven’t been able to protect you from” Feyd says out of frustration. Machinations of a mad man swimming around his mind. He’s ready to end it all, if he could the entire planet would be nothing but a memory, everything the Baron worked for. Reaching for the pitcher he pours you another glass watching you drink the water. Smiling, you rest your head in his chest.

“What?” He asks, raising his brow bone.

“I can almost hear the screams your thoughts are going to capture. I can feel the fear from your retribution” you comment honestly. Feyd turns his head to you, he’d been a witness to you being good, merciful and tolerant too many times for it not to be in your nature.

“That makes you smile?” He asks

“Anything that makes our lives together easier makes me smile,” you confess. “I’m with you, always” you promise. Feyd stands heading into living chambers, his hand guides you along with him. You realize he handles stress with silence, and kiss his hand. It’s an improvement from him requiring distance in his anger. He sets a bath filling the black tub with water, salts and oils. He undresses you slowly helping you in. He sits at the edge admiring you like a doll in his state of quiet anger. Dissociating his reflections run rampant. He’d lost and found you before. Only then as far as he knew you were safe in the care of the Bene Gesserit and not in the great expanse of Arrakis. Only then, you hadn’t yet been his. He’d never seen the beauty in your adult eyes. He’d never seen them smile. Never seen the fullness of your lips, or how they thin out when you smile. He didn’t yet know what it was like to crave you. Your presence, your body, your touch, your scent, your taste, your love. He’d never craved love before. You are and will always be the very best of him, his heart in human form and no one would ever take that from him and live to breathe or laugh about it. Looking at you in the tub is a physical reminder of the anguish the possibilities of a life without you would bring.

Looking into your eyes he stands opting to cherish every moment. Unfastening his gear he removes his combat suit making sure his blades are tucked in the right compartments. You watch intently for the first time as Feyd-Rautha disrobes before you. Usually he removed your clothes during frenzied kissing and strong lust. Sitting back you admire his full physicality from his broad shoulders to his well endowed manhood. A lifetime isn’t long enough to appreciate him. Stepping into the tub Feyd takes his time getting in your gaze filling him with pride and confidence.

Spice vulnerability or not you need him.

“Don’t look at me like that” Feyd warns.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Makes me want to fuck you hard” Feyd confesses sitting opposite you. He takes your foot massaging it for you.

“I'd probably like that” you confess embracing the here and now. You’d nearly lost him.

“Every inch of me is yours” Feyd says and you wade through the water to him. “Feel this? It’s just for you” he whispers in your ear as you sit beside him he takes your hand placing over his dick. Leaning in for a kiss Feyd comes alive in your hand when he breaks the kiss, you steady your stroke taking care of the man who would do anything for you.

“Only me?” You ask, watching him and he nods

“Only you” he affirms, closing his eyes as you tighten your hand around his manhood stroking more deliberately. Instinct kicks in and his groans are an indicator of his arousal. You share a kiss speeding up just as he’s close and he grabs your hand standing up abruptly. It’s startling until you realize what he wants. Looking up you smile at the weight of him in your hands, his pretty cherry shaped head. Never breaking eye contact you kiss his tip, a naughty streak coursing through you.

“You’re perfect” he says through rugged breaths. You take him in your mouth sucking hard. Feyd’s eyes close as you handle him with care knowing instinctively exactly what he likes. The intimate kiss gives him a head rush, he steadies himself by placing a hand on your shoulders as you suck harder, bobbing your head faster. You revel in his body reaction, to feel the power you get from Feyd’s pleasure. In making him feel close to how good he makes you feel. He guided your head to his desired depth and pace singing you the filthiest praises as he teaches you how he likes to be pleased. You pool at his words of affirmation, his attentiveness and his size. He makes an impressive mess leaving remnants of his orgasm all over you and in the tub.

Standing slowly you watch his signature smirk emerge onto his lips. Slowly but surely Feyd returns from his despondence fully. Smiling, you file his reaction away in your memory. Breathing life into his cock could bring him back to himself, to the present, to loving you. “Good girl,” he whispers, helping you out of the tub. “My na-baroness” he says, pushing you into the shower. “When it’s safe, I’m gonna give it to you rough, make it fun for you” he whispers.

“Hope that’s a promise” you remind and he nods, smirking in agreement.

“I can promise you that” Feyd smiles. “I can also promise you that this is the last time anyone separates us without our consent. I can promise it’ll all be over swiftly. I can promise after this I’m done with war because I’m just getting started with you” Feyd says, giving you the perfect bedroom eyes.

“I’ll be right at your side” you promise and the look in his eyes says he needs you right now. The air between you is electric and so is everything that is to come.

_______

As always thanks for reading & your support 🩶🩶🩶🩶 comment, like & reblog if you enjoyed!

_______

Taglist:

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#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler #dune part 2 #austin butler x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #austin butler x black reader #feyd x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd smut #feyd x you #house harkonnen #dune fanfiction

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s-soup111 · 4 months

Text

Make sure it kills me

Paring: Jinshi x (f) Reader

Genre: angst

Tags: hanakai, one-sided love, arranged marriage

“You’re breaking me.” You concluded in your letter. It’s not as if you were going to send it anyway, you placed the carefully folded letter into your locked drawer along with all your other heartfelt paragraphs. What was the point? He didn’t return your feelings anymore. Yes, maybe you did once share small intimate glances, hold pinkies as you walked down the flower garden together. Maybe you did share secret kisses under the softening gaze of the moon-lit pond. Where did that go?

“Was it ever real?” You ask yourself.

Maybe it was. But that was all in the past, Jinshi no longer belongs to you, he belongs to that servant named Maomao. You’ve seen the way he looks at her, with gleaming eyes and intrigued grins. You’ve seen how he gave her his hair pin, you’v seen it all. Jealousy swirling in the pit of your stomach, how pitiful.

Why does he love her? She’s just a servant, strange green hair and a freckled face, she is nothing compared to a beauty like you- you held a graceful complexion, you had an air of confidence not only beautiful but superiority. Just as the daughter of the emperor should. You were perfect, so why doesn’t he look your way anymore? Maybe it was because of how perfect you were. Maomao was anything but perfect, an unpredictable character and lower class. So imperfect but kind.

You choke on something, suddenly you find it difficult to breathe. You struggle in your room but no one comes to help you, all your ladies in waiting are outside by your order. How ironic. You hyperventilate in your own room, coughing, tears swelling in your eyes- you reach out trying to grasp onto something. You fall and your sight fades.

Jinshi is not aware of your falling ill until Maomao is summoned into your quarters. Jinshi knows you will be fine, he is not so concerned for your health as he knows Maomao will fix you some way or another, so he does not find the need to visit you. Not until Maomao ushers him urgently with a sense of panic in her eyes does he start to notice something is wrong.

“The madam is severely ill.”

Jinshi rushes to your quarters as soon as he hears this, you never get ill, so why now? As the emperor’s daughter you have been treated with the utmost care, therefore almost never falling ill. He drags Maomao with him, telling her to fix you immediately, not a request, an order. She’s never seen him this way, not with sweat falling from his face in panic, eyes scanning you with concern, hands shaking. Not the usual flirty, perverted man she’s used to.

You open your eyes, searching around your room for any signs of human presence, you see Maomao sitting next to you, head hung low with dark circles sitting under her shut eyes. She must have taken a long time to treat you, you are grateful. You try to raise yourself but it strains your body, your arms supporting your body are weak and unstable, you let out a dry cough- leaving behind a beautiful pink petal on your bed; yet you do not notice and leave your room quietly.

The moon is bright; yet it is a cold and star-less night, you stare at it for some time before you feel the icy breeze get to you. Your body feels weak and worn. In another timeline, Jinshi would wrap his robes around you, shielding you away from the wrath of the night. You walk away pathetically, not the blood trickling from your mouth.

Jinshi watches you from a distance, he is paralyzed by your beauty, ethereal in the moonlight fanning your pale skin, he watches you gaze into nothing in particular, he sees puffs of smoke leave your mouth every time you exhale. You must be cold, he is too unsure if he should go towards you. He sees you turning to move away, his eyes catches something but isn’t sure what it is. Suddenly, he realizes Maomao isn’t next to you and worries. But this time, he worries for you than her.

You are heard by the maids weeping and sobbing in your sleep, often beseeching Jinshi to come home, the life left your body, only leaving some empty shell, your body pained and ached, vomiting blood and pretty pink petals, your health declined to the point you could not manage your household affairs and Jinshi was forced to take over. Jinshi visited your room as much as he allowed himself to; he watched your weak frame struggle to breathe as more tears rolled down your face.

For some reason his heart ached to see you like this, he thought he’d lost feelings years ago. Maybe his heart just didn’t want to let you go.

“Beloved..?” You reach out one night. Jinshi is nose-deep into his work as he hears your voice. He turns around abruptly, heart hammering in his chest. You looked enthralling even deeply ill. Though, you had tears staining your face, “Jinshi, please.” You cried. You coughed, spitting out flowers that tasted bitter on your tongue.

“You’re breaking me, please stop this my love,”

“You know I can’t do that,”

“Then kiss me. Kiss me like you love me, tell me you love me even if you have to lie.”

“I love you.”

You look at him, the ache in your heart has not gone.

“You’re merciless.”

#the apothecary diaries #jinshi #jinshi x reader #angst #female reader #anime #jinshi x maomao

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iplayghoul · 5 months

Text

wet pussy crybaby .ᐟ simon 'ghost' riley

a/n: 2.1k words.. gun play/gun kink, masterbation descriptions, nudes, use of food for sexual innuendos, simon is a bit mean & strict, use of "doll" "sir" "daddy." an excerpt of da roleplay fic which may remain unfinished sorry yall 🫶🏽

"Please, Simon, c'mon," You beg sweetly as the man mentioned cooks you dinner. You're bouncing on the balls of your feet, anklet jingling and glossy lips pouted. It was actually out of character for you to beg despite the kind and lovely person you were, but you really wanted this. Your strong, buff husband continued to make the creamy alfredo sauce, "Sweetheart, we spoke about this. Not gonna' happen." His rumbly accented voice tells you.

When Simon's not on deployment, you both like to spend your days wasting away in the comfort of your cozy home.

The shared space was like a pleasantly sized cottage, garden overun with an array of several differently coloured rose bushes, a gorgeous pond and vegetables planted out; many were gifted by Simon's co-workers who knew you loved gardening. The inside of the home reflects the softness and brightness of the outside too! Often you'd be baking sweet treats: cakes, double chocolate chip muffins, churros and rice crispy edibles (sometimes, even brownies!). Watching cartoons, old movies, decorating with soft pinks, greys and browns, to your delight. The entire home looked like an explosion of marshmallows and chocolate; evidently an outward reflection of you that Simon enjoyed.

But, when the big, strooong man comes home, he's often marching through your garden: rushed. He's clad in all black and dark army greens, balaclava snug above his nose, brows furrowed and eye-paint still darkening his complexion. You're quite sure he remains suited up because he knows you like it, considering that he could always change before! It's a sight to see surely, and you can't help but remember that this is the same man who watches the little videos you make and the photos you send.

You imagine him clad in his bulky gear, sitting behind his desk. Just back from a mission and receiving word that you'd supplied him with a letter. Among the words you take the time to write out each letter of a couple links, not too sure how else your man will access them. Simon's heart beats like the bass of an R&B song, with every click clack of his keyboard. Typically, on his screen will pop up a video of you: pretty puffy pussy spread wide and leaking. Your fingers achingly stuffing your cunt desperately, sloppily stroking in and out while seeping cries of his name. Your voice was thick and creamy, satisfying to his ears much like the endless stream pouring out your pussy like silk.

Ghost. It's what you've been calling him in the videos you send while he's away. And each time you say it, he can't help but stare at your clit, your cunt like a juicy chocolate covered strawberry dipped in whipped cream; each chant of 'Ghost, Ghost, Gh- ah Ghost!' was the quicker you played with the soft sensitive mound at the tippy top of your pussy.

Considering this, it was no surprise to Simon when you'd asked him to get all his gear on and fuck you with his fat dumb dick. But, he enjoys depriving you of what you'd like, waiting for you to become impatient like you are now. You'd deflated. "C'mon Si', pleaaase?" You drift from around the edge of the kitchen island to wrap your arms around his waist. He drags you like light weight behind him as he pours the pasta into the pan, finishing up dinner and continues to ignore your request. "Please, please, please," you beg once more, pushing your pout out as much as you could and batting your eyelashes up at the man as he turns to face you beneath your grip, leaving your chin propped against his pecs.

He draws a hand behind your head, slipping his hands into the roots of your braids and tugging lightly to keep your eyes on him. "You're such a doll, you know that?" He lets out a chuckle. You nodded but huffed. He was always so... mean n' proper n' teasing! "Simon Riley, answer me right the fuck now." You blinked up at him, and he only purses his lips with a soft smile before releasing your hair and removing your arms off him. "Why don't you be a patient little thing, hm?" He rubs his hands on your hips, moving to grab your plates to serve dinner. "Wait 'till you've stuffed your stomach full. Okay love?" You squint a little, "Know I'mma hold you to that, right?" And he nods.

Dinner goes by silently. And you're beginning to think you're going insane. The reason being, your clit is fattened and pulsing in your panties. Your relatively good mood is being slightly dampered and the pout returned to your lips due to the ache. Your panties uncomfortably stuck between the lips of your pussy! And with each bite of the ooey gooey pasta, you're attracted to the way it slithers and slides between your lips. You can only imagine it as Simon shooting sticky strings of his cum onto your pussy. It's soft n' mushy on your tongue and oh, you think you should suck Simon's cock good just for making this yummy meal. Does your pussy feel this warm n' sloppy n' slippery on Simon's cock? You ache. "You alright, gorgeous?" He queries, gathering up his dish along with yours and taking them to the sink for washing, you get up quick and follow him. "Lemme wash it up, baby. You done did all the cookin'."

Simon observes you curiously, noticing the way that, despite your busy body cleaning up his marvelous work: your thighs were pressed together tight. Folding his arms, he leans back on the counter behind you before his deep voice sparks you out of your dream world when you finished up the dishes. "Alright mama, how about you head upstairs and wait for me while I get changed, hm?" You stop and stare— Do you focus on his orders, or the way that familiar petname sounded in his accent? Then, shuffling towards him, hopeful. "Wait–? Don't play w'me right now. You're gonna do it?" Eyes blown wide like Bambi as you peered up at your husband who remained stoic. "Ass up. Face in the pillows, understood?" You swallowed the cherry-like lump in your throat, tummy tingling while you struggled to find the words to respond. Simon pushes himself off the counter, straightening his height above you, his hazy eyes hold a thousand words. "I said, is that understood?" What feels like sparkles prick about your body and you whisper out, "Yea- Yes, Sir." Then, quickly finding yourself where Simon wanted you.

With long, honey blonde braids splayed across the pillows, your eyes were closed on inhaling Simon's refreshing scent. You're not sure how to describe it really, it was a pleasant musk he just had on him, whenever he got out of the shower, perspired, or just didn't wear deodorant: the yummy scent of him stuck to his skin. Surrounding you and Simon's pillow however, were the several Sanrio plush cushions he'd purchased for you. You enjoyed the comfort they brought to the bed and they all smelt like you, so who was Simon to complain. The more you layed there, ass arched up into the air you began to realize you should've stripped down. "No fuckin' way, man," you mumble beneath your breath and make moves to get up and strip out of your white cropped tank top and black fuzzy shorts that rode up your thighs and into your ass. Much like your pretty patterned panties.

As quickly as you got up, you stuffed yourself back into the pillows, the sound of heavy weighted, steel tipped boots bouncing off the walls and gracing your ears. Eyes screw shut and you feel your clit throb, hard. Your mind follows his footsteps as the beat against the tile floor. You lick your lips, by now every glob of peachy lip gloss was gone. You feel some objects drop onto the bed and you flinch, gripping the pillows a little and peaking an eye open. Hard hands grip the fat of your thighs, squeezing 'em tight, moving up to your shorts, then gripping onto the soft material at your hips. Simon's fingers tickle you and you're holding your breath. He pinches at the material, slowly peeling the shorts off you and you notice his hands are gloved when they brush against you.

Cold air meets the roundness of your ass. You weren't wearing a thong, but your panties exposed the majority of you. They'd stuffed themselves between your ass and suctioned itself to your sticky cunt. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that Simon couldn't see the wet patch. A gloved hand massages the fat of your ass, slightly pulling on the hem of your panties. He'd rip them off you in a swift motion. Except, the only thing that was swift was the loud crack of his palm, stinging your ass. You whisper a squeal-ish 'oh my god' when you hear the smack split the silence in the room. Eyes wide, already springing tears but you choose to withhold your sounds as much as possible. Simon was finally giving you what you wanted, you weren't about to ruin this shit.

Soon comes another smack, smack, smack on your ass. And with each one you let out a strangled moan with a sniffle; tears kissed your pretty cheeks and your ass has the darkest shade of red imprinting itself on you. Simon moves slowly, giving your pained ass a pinch. He then hooks his fingers under the hem of your panties again, sliding them off you slow. You hear a low groan come out if him as you feel him peel it away from your pussy. The sound gracing your ears almost makes you yelp. Like a starved little thing, jumping at the slightest crumb he gives you.

With your pussy exposed, you feel him shuffle off the bed, walking around a few times. Like he was observing you, then pressing back onto the bed. Then a rough hand collects your braids off the pillows. His closeness almost got a whimper out of you but you didn't dare try to look at him. Holding your braids in hand, he ties them up to a loose bun, your head jerking roughly with the manhandling. As if at once he's pulling your body up by your hair, unclothed nipples below your tank top hardened and printing out perky. Your back is uncomfortably pressed up against his uniform or... whatever equipment he was wearing. "S– Simon," You breathe out raggedly, not sure what to do with your hands given your exposed position. "Is that my name?" You hear his voice rumble deeply right above your ear, it's slightly muffled too and you don't know what to think anymore, looking up at the ceiling that seemed interesting. "Ghost, please." You mutter out, and that's when you feel it.

"What is it? Do you want dick? Is that it?" There's a long, cold metal barrel dragging up the bottom of your thigh and pushing at the fat of your ass. "Y– Yea... yes daddy, that's what I want." You can only think it's his gun thats touching you.

You hear the gun click and shut your eyes, assuming that meant it was ready to be shot when the trigger was pulled. Your cunt was cold and lonely exposed to the air. Whatever slick had built up before was almost gone, but it only left you aching for more. Then you felt the tip of the gun press to your temple. And you could see more of Simon than you did before, because now his entire, huge arm was basically in your view as he held the gun up to your head. "G- Ghost?" You can only stutter out, feeling a sob begin to grow at the bottom of your throat, and it took everything in you to resist putting your hands up to hold his arm. His tattoos, peaked through the black uniform, but your eyes were trained on the hand holding the gun above your eyes. "Don't you think you have to work for it?" He grumbles. And he moves his hand from your braids, your body drops to the bed but he's already roughing you back into the position, holding you by your neck this time. Now you can fully see the gun and your tears continue running freely.

He brings the heavy metal weapon up to your face again, tapping it against your lips like it was the tip of his dick. "I asked you a question, didn't I? Aren't'cha gonna' work for this cock?" Suddenly you're all wet again. "Yes, Ghost." You speak out slowly. "Open your mouth then." And you do, plump lips drop open, eyes remaining trained on the gun.

annddd thats all i got 🤭 DONT BEAT MY ASS YALL LMFAOO

#﹒﹒﹒💗 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦: 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢 💌 𓂃 !#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut

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justblades · 1 year

Text

⌕ QUARTET'S TUNES, 18+

⟢ DAY 4 OF SPECIAL 2K EVENT — your boyfriend suffers from erectile dysfunction . . . he thinks of a solution to treat it, by having you preyed on by his two olden friends

⟢ CHARACTERS : blade, dan heng & jing yuan x afab!reader WC : 1.8k

⟢ WARNINGS : (EX)PLICIT, MDNI. 4some, manhandling, degrading, multiple penetration, aphrodisiacs, spitting, dacryphilia, filming, cuckolding.

utopia - a place you never thought you'd attain from your mere hands alone whenever feelings of loneliness creep up to your soul, pulling you back to square one with weight heavy in one foot. not until you crossed paths with a certain individual who appeared too cold than he may seem, his aura exudes of a gelid ice and a chilly gust of wind all at the same.

threads of fate are adamantine, each strand, each fiber shows a dedicated ending for every single being. although not halfway done, you've come to learn dan heng's sharp corners and the varying slopes of his soul. how he likes for things to be done, how he prefers to bask in solitude when those moments come. that he is not indeed cold like how he is usually perceived. as a way to delve deeper in the ocean of his depths, your vulnerable self mooring at dan heng's byline with your name written on it - it felt as if it was meant to be.

amidst the countless times he buried his seed deep into your walls, in spite of the scratch marks besmirching his pale, supple skin, there came a time he was unable to do it with you anymore. of course, sex isn't everything but it sends a pang of pain for dan heng more as he hungers for your body day by day; wanting to relive those lustful moments again, feeling each others' sweat mix with juices of arousal coating your thighs and dan heng's fingers.

and finally, he reached his limit. perhaps all he needed is some good old pushing buttons for his erection to switch back on. he contacts two olden friends, at this point, one was a mortal enemy and the other an archaic comrade. it was an eccentric situation that no one has ever experienced before. having your lover banged by two acquaintances right before your naked eyes is not an idea someone sane is capable of thinking of. perhaps it's the hunger burning dan heng's patience and blind hope that made him resort to these methods. as much as he longed, the twice you yearned.

a red tie slithers against your wrists, pinned above your head with a final twist to finish the binding. a makeshift of kinky shackles, a tantalizing sight to grace your partner's vision as two tall men stood before your restrained stature. the silver haired at your left and the indigo head at your right. they were polar opposites for a boastful smile plays on jing yuan's lips while the former appeared to have a scornful look imprinted on his.

nonetheless, jing yuan starts it with a white circular pill nestled on his wet tongue, stuck out just enough for you to see. "let's treat your lover's dysfunction then." he says as his sultry lips crash onto yours with fervor, eyes shut, fingertips trailing from your chin on the way to the back of your head, lolling you closer to him than before.

your tongues tangle in sync, taking turns as you begin to feel more of his liquids pour onto your mouth like a small cup, overflowing, escaping past your margins that reached to a point whereas you're drooling. a soft mewl comes undone, satisfying the general. the pill that slipped out of your mind travels way down to your system, its ingredients quickly pool inside your body waiting for its effects to manifest.

slightly glancing at the other male all the while you were being smothered by open mouthed kisses, "i'll take everything away from you." the remark stirs confusion, he sneers and proceeds to suckle on your neck's sweet spot. your body jolts at the unfamiliar sensation of an unknown's lips adorn your complexion, "i'll make you mine." his voice softens and it just all made sense.

dan heng feels his heartstrings rupture, jealousy seethes even though he may not show it. his brows lightly knit and focus at the matter in hand, he needs this - so he can finally revel in the delights of your body. jing yuan finally withdraws from your lips, sharing a gaze of lust and excitement with you. he only pauses for a moment and proceeds to scoot closer to your body, getting behind you as his arm lock around your neck, his lower clothing becoming tighter and more painful to bear.

this position felt rather embarrassing; you're exposed in front of your lover. the cherry on top of it was blade unbuckling his tan and jade green belt, slacks of grey shades quickly fall down to his feet - followed suit by another act of stripping, this time, it was you being undressed by him. he rips all of your clothes open, veins popping as he exerts minimalist strength: your body jerks in exchange as you get to feel his hot breath caress the plane of your chest.

jing yuan swiftly removes his too, cock springing free now at its full glory judging from how it twitches against your lower back, aching for some friction. struggling to keep sight of the two males preparing themselves to bathe in ecstasy with you, your body suddenly falls lethargic and the atmosphere's temperature felt rather parching.

"dan heng— make sure you watch all of this." jing yuan comments and lubricates your slit with a concoction of his streaming beads of arousal mixed with yours. muddy white sopping out of your folds, you were more than turned on, brought about by the drug you ingested earlier. you blink repetitiously once you start to feel something hard protrude your hole, it pulsates with desire and felt feverishly hot.

you gasp weakly, an opportunity for the other male to slip his dick in your mouth abruptly. "don't forget about me." he bucks his pelvis forward, forcing you to bob your head up and down; not giving you enough time to adjust and grow accustomed to his immense size. blade's scowl slowly ceases, eyes fixated how you react to being gagged by his cock.

jing yuan can feel a little competitive at times, a part of his playful nature. he thrusts into your cunt with ease thankful to the lube that most of your pussy provided, your velvet walls clamping around his girth. sloppy noises, mewls and grunts all bounce off the four walls of your own home. dan heng remains fixed on his place, his heart threatens to beat faster and faster, hearing your satisfied moans merited from anything other than his dick undoubtedly vexes him deep down.

it wasn't even enough of a foreplay earlier and it's just the beginning - yet your mind already starts to feel point blank, unable to grasp coherence and rationality the more you are stimulated by both the males simultaneously. unable to protest as blade's cock fills your mouth, prohibited to make any of the male stop as you were bound by the crimson string tied on your wrists.

jing yuan's guttural moans chime into your ears, bucking his hips in an animalistic speed while you got noticeably louder in mewls and squirms under the both of their touches. "i-i-" muffled by the constant bounce of blade's tip at the back of your throat, tears start to well up in your eyes, the depths reflecting the navy haired's face of satisfaction seeing you cry from how big he was.

"i was never aware you had a whore like this, dan heng. you're quite a lucky man, getting to see this any day you'd like." the male snidely remarks, sarcastically wiping your tears away with his bandaged hand. "weep for me more." he adds, a rivulet of his gathered spit drop down to your lips.

dan heng feels his trousers tighten all of a sudden. he glimpses down, seeing something indeed out of the ordinary. he was growing an erection, each rush of his blood to the flushed tip of his cock - he could feel everything course in his system. his breathing deepens, gunmetal eyes widened.

the silver haired doesn't let himself be outshined by his olden friend, "no can do. you'll sing for me more." he says and slows down his pace, only to give you long deep strokes of his as your walls continue to coil around him. it was a teasing act, but the thirst for more immediately gets quenched when he thrusts into you deeper than before, his balls lightly slap against the plush of your ass. you throw your head back, unknowingly seeking solace in jing yuan's broad shoulders while your mouth was still full of blade's girth.

you try to catch your breath with heavy pants, feeling sticky in every nook and cranny of your body. they were both being intense: more than what you could handle. dan heng never made you feel these sensations before, unsure if it's a good thing or not. whilst blade finally pulls his cock out— he clicks his tongue in annoyance and tangles his fingers on your hair, crouching down to your level. he looks you in the eyes piercing through your torpid ones, threatening to fall into a slumber anytime. suddenly, a hand stops him from handling you harshly any further, he looks up to see it was no other than a despised enemy. "you're finally back in action." a crease between dan heng's brows form, teeth gritting from how rough blade was towards you. well, what else did he expect? if you secretly liked it, then the male suppose there's nothing wrong happening.

"simmer down." blade comments as he finally removes the ties on your wrists, giving your arms leeway to rest at last. but it doesn't prolong as his calloused, veiny hands, guide your right hand to wrap around dan heng's throbbing cock while the free one was coiled around blade's. unable to register anything now, your body weight doubles down, feeling heavier than ever. something, however is amiss. pure bliss snakes up to your abdomen, feeling more desirous than ever— as it unfolds, your hands pump the two dicks on their own, granting you groans bubbling from both's mouths.

you were uncertain if this is what an aphrodisiac does to a person's consciousness. but then, with bleary vision, you make out the familiar object once again. this time, it was from blade's slick tongue twirling in your wet cavern, he was rough and deep, not leaving any corners unchecked with his tongue's tip.

again, it descends to your system, dissolving into glitters of substance that fuels your libido levels - willingly resuming to stroke two dicks while another one continuously ravage your walls, the general feeling himself catch the bliss of release anytime soon. "it's good to see you've finally recovered dan heng . . . but you have to know we won't be at your disposal the next time this happens and this is where my suggestion comes in."

the ebony haired struggles to whip his head to jing yuan's direction, a stifled satisfied expression carved on his face. "we should immortalize this." dan heng always understands jing yuan's point— and there they come into a quick agreement especially now that their cocks are twitching in unison, yearning for more. with a swift setting of a camera right in front of your lustful bodies, it starts to record every single detail unraveling as carnal desire inebriate the quartet.

they took turns in which who has the privilege to power piston into your cunt, while the other jacks himself off, letting his cum spring free in strings, embellishing your skin with numerous diagonals. another idea rises later on, putting it into action as two of them pleasure the both of your entrances, while the remaining person thrusts his cock deep inside your mouth once again. your body drifts into cloud nine, having three men thrill you with their own dicks at the same time wasn't so bad after all - and most importantly, your lover's dysfunction is finally treated.

more juices of orgasm sprawl out of your slit, pussy continues to spasm up to no end, knees trembling— how many times has it been since you came tonight? even the men themselves already lost count. all they're aware of is the four of you are having a good time, each male having their own charm that had your heart in a chokehold of lust.

my masterlist !

#jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader smut #honkai star rail x reader smut #jing yuan smut #blade smut #dan heng smut

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eiflawriting · 1 year

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Hiya! I was wondering if maybe you could write something like kyoraku fucking you in a sundress? Like you’ve planned a picnic date and then he sees you all dressed up in a pretty yellow sundress and makes you sit on his face in the middle of the park? Ty love x

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐢 𝐤𝐲ō𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮

(✧) ─ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 shunsui finally has a day off from his captain duties, so y/n decides to plan a romantic picnic to help him relax. upon seeing her in that pretty little dress, he thought of other ways to do so.

(✧) ─ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔! black woman who uses she/her pronouns ─ chubby!reader. established relationship ── husband x wife. same couple from goodmorning, my love. part ii. to my four part series. NO MANGA SPOILERS. third POV, usage of profanity, praising and breeding kink, VOYEURISM ── public s3x. oral!receiving ── face sitting, missionary position, terms of endearment ── cupcake, sweetheart, my love, angel, baby, pretty girl, etc. squirting, creampie. this is just some passionate love making in the garden. shunsui is wearing a yukata and i think it's hot. 3.3k word count.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀(✧) ─ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔

my goodness. first of all, im sorry this request took so long. i have like three different versions of this fic written, but decided to go with this one. i absolutely love it. nonnie, i hope you're still here with me lol. i also just came off a writing hiatus, so im going to try to knock out my other requests, which are also bleach characters, hehe. shoutout to nonnie for being my first completed request. ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ no more rambling. i hope y'all enjoy. interactions would be greatly appreciated. ♡ eighteen plus only. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

𝑺𝑯𝑼𝑵𝑺𝑼𝑰 𝑺𝑰𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑨𝑲𝑬 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑳𝒀 𝑨𝑺 𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑫 𝒀/𝑵 𝑷𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭 𝑨 𝑪𝑼𝑷, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑶 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫𝑺 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑻𝑯. His grey irises were glued to Y/N, mesmerized by her gorgeous appearance. A day never went by when Shunsui wasn't obsessed with her beauty, but today he found himself staring more than usual. Did it have something to do with the substance circulating his system or the short yellow dress Y/N was wearing?

Maybe both.

When Shunsui saw Y/N, he felt himself coming undone in the yukata she picked out for him to wear. He wondered where she got this dress from? Perhaps a gift from Rukia when she returned from the World of the Living? If so, he would surely thank her the next time he ran into her.

The dress held Y/N's curves perfectly. With every step she took, her tits bounced like they were dying to be freed. A few times on the stroll to the garden, the wind blew heavily to expose her garments. The pervert in Shunsui wanted the wind to blow harder to reveal more, but of course, the gentleman in him helped Y/N adjust.

Shunsui declared yellow was Y/N's color. It complimented her deep brown skin well—and the sun couldn't agree more, descending upon her complexion to illuminate the natural glow she already had. To think this day was supposed to be reserved for spending time with Y/N and relaxing. All he could think about was fucking her in that pretty little dress. Well, that sounds quite relaxing to him, at least.

"My love, you're staring," Y/N said while her eyes remained focused on rummaging through the picnic basket.

Of course, he was. How couldn't he? If only she could witness the lewd thoughts permeating Shunsui's mind. They were beyond obscene, visualizing her thighs suffocating his face while he ate her pussy until she was a cumming mess. Fucking Y/N, gazing at her tits bouncing invitingly until they fell out her top. He knew she wasn't wearing a bra either. The dress's material was thin enough to have her nipples peek through.

Fuck, she was so damn sexy. Shunsui's cock was growing harder the longer he watched.

"Can you blame me for having a beautiful wife?"

Y/N wrinkled her nose. "Hmm, maybe you're right. I can't blame you, but you could at least say what's on your mind."

"Why do you think something's on my mind?"

"Hmm, maybe because you're giving me those bedroom eyes, and your cheeks are quite red. I know you could handle your liquor."

He chuckled, using his free hand to throw up in defeat. "You got me. You'll probably think I'm a pervert if I tell you what's on my mind."

"Baby—I thought you were a pervert since we met. I don't think a few of your wet fantasies would make me think otherwise." The laugh he belted from his stomach pulled strings in Y/N's heart. So genuine. He needed this day.

Shunsui leaned back to pat on his lap, wanting Y/N to take comfort, which she had no issue doing. A delightful ache rushed to his cock from feeling Y/N's clothed sex on him. Her lips were ghosting over his, inches from kissing but instead taking in the lingering aroma of sake. She brushed her nose along the bridge of his nose, an intimate gesture they did to express their love, before wrapping her arms around Shunsui's neck and finding his lips.

While sharing a heated kiss, Y/N began rubbing her pussy on Shunsui to pull those husked groans from his chest. His free hand rested on the small of her back to aid the rolling motion of her hips. Y/N halted her movements to softly gasp due to feeling his erection grow against her clothed sex. However, Shunsui saw no reason for her to stop.

Shunsui chugged the last of his sake before grabbing Y/N's legs to wrap around him, having her comfortably straddle him. He placed his hands on her hips to continue her movements while massaging each other's lips. Every moan, grunt, and plea was devoured with the intent of wanting to do more than just make out, especially for Shunsui.

A greedy man he was when it came to Y/N. He wanted to discover every kink and pinpoint of her body until all her weaknesses were revealed. Any chance he had was used to taking his time pleasing her in ways she didn't know was possible, but Shunsui made it so. And today would just be another one of those experiments.

"I want you to bear my children, my love," Shunsui rasped, pecking her lips between words before peppering kisses along her neck. "You look so damn beautiful and sexy in this dress. I want to fuck you while you wear it."

"Mmm, let's go back—"

He shook his head. "No. Right here. Let me fuck you right here in the middle of the garden."

"S-Shunsui—I don't know if I'll be able to be quiet. And what if someone sees us?" Y/N words barely came out as normal. Her breathy moans only indicated she was on board with him.

He tugged her earlobe between his teeth, whispering, "Hmm, conservative now, are we? I recall you stopping by before my captain meetings a few times because you said you missed me—And lunch wasn't the only thing you were dropping off."

Shunsui earned a knowing look from Y/N that was filled with desire. She didn't even bother to argue because it was true. Y/N genuinely visited Shunsui at the barracks to bring him lunch. But there was just something about seeing him tend to his captain duties that had a pleasurable ache rush to her center. And let's just say when Shunsui walked her out of the room, she attracted a few stares from his subordinates.

She nipped on her bottom lip, letting out a deflating sigh. "Why have I married you again?"

"Because you love me, and I love you. Now come here—Sit on my face." Shunsui wasted no time laying on his back to prepare to feast on Y/N. She attempted to remove her dress, but he stopped her. "I was very serious when I said I want to please you while you wear this dress, sweetheart."

He sat up a bit to grab Y/N's waist to pull her onto his face, causing her to giggle. That giggle soon turned into a soft moan upon feeling Shunsui lap at her clit through her panties. The barrier of her garments acted as a tease and a surprise for something great. Her natural odor graced his nostrils, reminding him how he became pussydrunk, to begin with.

The feeling of Y/N's pussy being toyed with through her panties was a great delight—as if the material of her garments gave her clit more friction. She even found herself riding his face in hopes of reaching her release quicker. But she should know that Shunsui took his time pleasing her.

Libido was pumping through their veins, but mainly Y/N. Shunsui was a tease in more ways than one. However, she felt like she was on the edge of a mountain. She was desperate to cum, and although her orgasm was right there—it wouldn't come. Not until his tongue was pleasing her without the barrier. It felt like an everlasting sensation of falling out of the sky.

Y/N hiked up her dress to look down at Shunsui, seeing that pretty scarlet color decorate his cheeks. She just knew he was enjoying taunting her. His mouth was preoccupied, but his eyes twinkled a light of mischief and ecstasy. Y/N thought he looked so sexy smothered between her thighs, but she needed more, and she didn't mind begging for it.

"Baby, stop teasing me—please."

"Gosh, I just love when you're so needy and impatient for me, angel. Just this once, I'll give you what you want."

He slipped Y/N's panties to the side to attack her clit. He groaned from having her taste on his tongue, joyfully rolling his eyes back. Shunsui was hungry for this pussy. Taking care of Y/N was the highlight of his day. If only he could spend every day like this—spreading her ass cheeks to obnoxiously eat her pussy and second hole.

Shunsui's moans transferred vibrations to her throbbing bud, causing Y/N to cry his name. He slipped two fingers inside her to produce more of those dulcet cries, which went straight to cock.

Y/N was so wet for Shunsui and created a mess on his face. Being drowned in her wetness was no issue for him at all. Y/N's juices coated his facial hair and dripped down his chin. She kept whimpering his name, saying how close she was to cumming, and that only aided his feasting to become more passionate. Thrusting his fingers knuckles deep into her cunt while sucking vigorously on her clit. And he couldn't neglect the hidden flavor behind the long side of her labia.

"Fuck, you taste so good, cupcake. I love this pussy," Shunsui mumbled.

"Shun, suck me harder. I'm right there."

So sensitive she was when it came to Shunsui's touch. Teasing Y/N through her garments was the calm before the storm. She just knew as soon as she felt him lapping at her clit she would cum quickly. Her actions also proved this accurate—pressing her weight on his face, suffocating him between her thighs while riding his tongue.

Y/N began feeling herself and imagined Shunsui running his hands through her curves. Somewhere along the lines of yes, please, oh God, and a few more curse words was all that she could say. However, Shunsui fucking the air caught her attention. She looked over her shoulders to witness how hard his erection became. If she didn't know any better, the wet spot on his yukata was the overload of precum seeping through.

She bit her lip, thinking about how badly she wanted to suck the soul out of his dick. But that would be saved for another time.

Shunsui pumped his fingers faster and deeper into Y/N until he hit her sweet spot to pull back her attention. He consumed Y/N's wetness, slurping her juices and generating slurping sounds like her pussy was a popsicle on the verge of melting. His free hand was used to repeatedly smack her ass and rub to alleviate the sting. Shunsui knew she enjoyed his actions. How she clenched around his fingers couldn't say otherwise.

And it wasn't long before her orgasm washed over his face.

Y/N saw stars while riding out her release. Despite her moans being hitched, they still managed to push through. She panted above him and, as always, thanked Shunsui for delivering great pleasures.

Typically, Shunsui would continue pleasing Y/N past her orgasm because he enjoyed her sensitivity, but he was just dying to fuck her. He ran his tongue along her folds a bit longer before removing Y/N from his face. He sat her on the blanket to begin freeing himself from his yukata. She watched him with lidded eyes, chest heaving slowly, licking her lips with anticipation to see his girthy cock.

"You like what you see, darling?"

Y/N giggled. "Oh, shut up and fuck me already."

"Hmm, quite a demand from someone so worried about having sex in the garden."

She pulled him by the band of his yukata to have him inches away from her mouth. "I said—shut up—and come fuck me." And found his lips once more.

Their kiss was so passionately sloppy. Moaning and groaning from the lingering taste of Y/N on his tongue. He hurriedly lowered his yukata enough to expose his aching cock. Although Shunsui had all day with her, it seemed like he was still in a rush to fuck her fat wet pussy. He only left a few more smooches before descending into Y/N's neck to nip harshly at her flesh.

While he stroked his dick to spread his precum and prepare to be inside her, he freed her breasts from the dress because they looked like they needed air. How Y/N's full saggy tits jumped out her top was beyond obnoxious. Fuck, he couldn't resist sucking them into his mouth just to savor for a bit.

After showing equal love to Y/N's tits, he again slipped her panties to the side and leaned forward until Y/N was lying on her back. He grabbed her legs to hook one thigh under his forearm and pin the other. Shunsui ran his tongue across her bottom lip while his tip rested on her sex to tease, and just when she parted her lips to complain—he pushed in.

But of course, her pussy was stubborn, involuntary resisting, and only allowing the head.

He gathered saliva in his mouth to drip on his dick. Her wetness was enough lubricant, but Shunsui knew doing this would create that obscene queefing sound he loved hearing. He took his time working open her pussy, pumping tenderly until he was deep.

Y/N rolled her eyes and let out soft whimpers, indicating her approval of his actions. How was his tip alone able to bring her this much pleasure already? But no. She needed to take all eight inches of Shunsui to make him proud.

"My love, I—I can take it. Give me more," Y/N breathed.

He held his hips still to watch her, seeing how the sun was attracted to the tiny beads of sweat decorating her forehead. He noticed how tears began pricking the corner of those pretty chestnut-colored eyes. Y/N's hand was already resting on Shunsui's lower abdomen in preparation to hold him to alleviate the pressure. It didn't matter how often they had sex—Shunsui is a very passionate partner, and Y/N needed time to adjust.

But if she said she was ready… then she was ready.

He bottomed out.

She let out a pitched yelp.

He pulled out and did it again.

And again.

He fucked Y/N to make her cum all over his cock and milk her to breed her pussy. With every thrust, his balls smacked her sex. He was fucking Y/N at full force to have her breasts bounce uncontrollably. They sat so nicely outside the pretty little yellow dress she was wearing. This is what Shunsui was visualizing when he saw her in this dress.

"Y/N, squeeze your breasts together with your arms," Shunsui ordered, to which she happily complied. "Yes, just like that. Fuck, you're so sexy. So good to me, sweetheart."

"Shun, oh God! Don't stop fucking me like this, baby."

He won't. He won't stop fucking his sweet wife like a wild animal hunting prey. If anything, he'll fuck her harder until she gushes and creams his cock, and he paints her walls. Until she's crying his name from the pit of her stomach. Shunsui kissed Y/N's cervix just enough to deliver another orgasm and not bring discomfort.

Y/N's cheeks only grew warmer the more her pleasure was built. Shunsui was a lot to handle, but she molded around him perfectly with his patience to stretch her walls. Her pussy sucked him in and out. Based on how his eyes were glued between them, he was delighted by this sight. But Y/N wanted him to look at her.

"L-Look at me, Shunsui."

His dick twitched from her order that sounded too sweet. He gave her soft smooches to express his apologies. "I'm sorry, angel. You want me to watch you when you cum, hm?"

"Yes, please."

Gosh, why did she sound like that?

Shunsui freed her thighs to take comfort in holding her thick waist. He pounded into her to hear her pussy smile. He quickly glanced to see a heap of cream on his cock. When he returned his eyes to Y/N, he saw her squeezing her nipple while attempting to suck the other in her mouth. The visual of this was so pornographic. His dick couldn't stop jumping unruly.

He was going to bust soon.

And she wasn't too far behind.

"You're going to let me breed you. Isn't that right, my love? That's what you promised me, yeah?" But, despite his words coming out as a question, he wasn't asking.

More so, telling her.

"Yes. I'll do anything for you, Shun."

"You're always so fucking good to me."

His hands remained on her waist to fuck her, also pulling down Y/N to meet with his thrusts. He pressed his weight onto her to sensually kiss Y/N, overpowering her pretty two-toned lips with his tongue. Shunsui glided across her jawline and neck to suck fervently on her flesh to pull back those sweet yelps. Her walls wrapped around him acted as a turtleneck sweater providing warmth to his cock. It would only take a few more strokes until Y/N was a cumming mess.

Shunsui removed one of his hands from Y/N to move his fingers to her pearl to rub out her orgasm. His pace was erratic, and he was eager to feel her wash over him again. Y/N's moans reverberated around the garden, yet they were still sweet and soft. His grunts joined her sounds of pleasure to harmonize. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, and she couldn't look more beautiful—happier. Words couldn't describe how much Shunsui loves her. She was perfect.

"Ah—Ngh, oh my gosh, Shun. Baby, I'm cumming. You're making me cum," Y/N whimpered, sniffling her tears of joy.

"I just love hearing those words from your pretty mouth. You're so gorgeous, my angel. I love you so much. Always milking my cock with this warm, tight pussy. Fuck, you feel amazing." The praises Shunsui was saying to Y/N only helped build her climax further. She was squeezing him, and her pussy produced stirring wet noises. He applied more pressure to her clit and flicked it more quicker. "Mmm, cum for me, Y/N."

His balls were growing heavy. Shunsui put all his strength into his thrusts until they became sloppy, indicating his near orgasm. He repeatedly touched Y/N's cushion, which had her whimpering and toes curling.

He ghosted his mouth over her ears. "Let go for me, sweetheart. I want you to release everything on me. I feel you. Don't hold back, okay? I'm yours."

"..."

"I'm yours," he repeated in a hushed tone.

"Oh–f-fuck…."

And that was it. A beautiful wave washed between them as Y/N squirted and milked his cock, and Shunsui drowned her pussy with his bitters. His sloppy thrusts didn't halt until he ensured every last drop of cum emptied in her depths. He moaned her name, saying she was his good girl, calling her beautiful, and saying he would make her a mommy.

Once the couple came down from their high, Shunsui pulled Y/N onto his lap with his dick inside her. He showered her face with gentle kisses before finding her soft lips. Having Y/N in his arms was the best feeling he could ask for.

Upon parting from the heartfelt kiss, they held eye contact to share a look of lust. Two lovers, drunk off love and sake after fucking passionately in the middle of the garden. However, Y/N almost forgot she was in public until hearing the voices of his subordinates. How she yelped and curled into Shunsui, smothering her face on his bare chest, made his heart flutter.

She softly bit his flesh to show her playful frustration of agreeing to be fucked in a public setting. "Remind me to never do this again."

"Haha. I can remind you, but we both know you don't believe in the word never. Now, come on. Let's go home and clean up."

𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙠 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙. ♡

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 ── @dejwrites @beniswife @ayyy-pee @maydayaisha @violxtbxbyy @chaotic-nick @aiyaaayei @bontensbabygirl @po3ticb3auty @angrybirdxx @alinvert @heartdevil @caribbeanwifey19 @sexbob-ombbeck @softimgyu @kimorikuri @adoretruly @akondo @kinize20 @snowflakeanimelover @kawaiigirljenae99 @zabimarushoney67 @ghoulette420 @stargirllust @kenpachis-woman @magxnoria @kenpachiislit

#anime x black!reader #anime smut #anime x reader #bleach fanfic #bleach smut #bleach x reader #bleach x black reader #shunsui x reader #shunsui x black reader #shunsui kyoraku x reader #shunsui kyoraku x black reader #shunsui smut #black reader #x black fem reader #anime x chubby reader #bleach x you #eifla's fic requests ʚɞ

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chrollohearttags · 2 months

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𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖇: 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖛𝖊

synopsis: many moves are being made for the talent of AMG and two fourths of the Dead Boys Society collective, Ony The God and Prince Cee, find themselves thrust even further into the spotlight after their freestyle goes viral. But their musical skills aren’t the only thing that has people talking. As it’s during this interview that the duo find themselves in an exchange of heated words with an infamous DJ..who names drop their fellow group member and brother, EJ the Don in reference to recent scandals. Will the pair clear up the rumors circulating the net or will they leave it all in his hands to set the record straight? Meanwhile, (Y/N) meets up with Mikasa prior to PalmFest to discuss another opportunity she has lined up for her. It’s here that the manager informs her that she’ll be receiving the opportunity of a lifetime to work with a brand she’s loved since childhood. But that isn’t the only thing she has to divulge to the upcoming influencer. What is Mika hiding from her client? Ahead of the festival, Jean and his infamous band prepare to make their much anticipated return to the stage but before this, he teams up with the girls of the Pole Assassins for what is set to be the collab of the century and to solicit some friendly advice to the headstrong leader. But he isn’t the only one with a grand plan up his sleeve and it seems that everyone will be pulling out the stops to give Miami and the world a night worth remembering. Who’ll take the stage and who’ll steal the show?

word count: 8.2K

content + themes: mentions of drugs, humor, light angst, mentions of fighting, minor smut/sexual themes (jeankasa crumbs), alcohol use, multiple character cameos, language

“This gon’ be our year, believe that..we made it this far and we ain’t gon’ stop.”

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Summertime. One of the liveliest and busiest times of the year for many. Most were preparing for vacation, on break from school or just enjoying the various happenings around their area..but for those that were employed and contracted under AMG, this was far from a time of leisure. With the recent announcement of the much anticipated PalmFest, it had caused a dramatic shift in the company. Not only that, word of the festival had begun to make waves around social media. Fans were sharing the banner and their enthusiasm for the lineup. Many were scrambling, tweeting about how they were needing to come up with quick cash to attend for the weekend. Tickets were set to go on sale in the next few days, so naturally, the sales and advertising team would be exceptionally busy. But they wouldn’t be the only ones busy preparing for the influx of attention that was set to be coming their way.

“Okay, okay..so everybody is talking, going crazy over the internet about this new song and lemme tell y’all..it’s worth every bit of the hype. It’s definitely a hit..song of the summer for sure. I’m rocking wit’ it, so many other people are too..but we all gotta know, how did it come about? What’s the story behind Nike Tech?” two men sat adjacent to a woman with a lighter complexion..all three with microphones pursed to their lips as they were perched and bolted to the table in front of them. Both with shaved heads, marked with dyed designs..chains dangling from their necks and grills lining the insides of their mouths when they flashed those perfect smiles. Prince Cee and Ony The God, two halves of the Dead Boys Society collective. Their styles could be best described as hypercharged trap and upbeat melodies that would hype up even the deadest of crowds. Make no mistake, the men did create more emotional pieces, detailing their rough upbringings in the heart of inner city Miami and the Dominican Republic. But they much rather preferred music that made people feel good! Too often had they seen the reality of what the streets could do to them so now that they had made it to the opposite side of the tracks..naturally, they wanted to pay homage to those they lost but they wanted people to smile more than anything. To dance and most importantly, fine women to shake their asses to it!

“Well, you know we was just messin’ ‘round one night, having fun and it came to us.

Ony, or Onyakapon was born to a Haitian father and an African American mother, who was born in Nigeria and raised in Opa Locka. He was always described as bright, intelligent and sweet with a kind heart. A star athlete to his core. He loved basketball and singing. He was brought up in the church, where he learned to fine tune that beautiful voice but quickly found the streets unwillingly. He saw gun violence..drugs and weapons being stuffed under the counters by his uncles and father. It was rough but he still persisted. He played basketball, was on the swim team and played football, all while maintaining a four point two grade point average. He was a star on the field and court, no doubt. But where did he truly shine? Behind a microphone. He and Connie attended the same high school, where they eventually went on to meet EJ..who had just enrolled to finish his junior and senior years. The three would play sports, write music and dream about the future. Regardless of their differences, all three boys had the same goal: change the world with music! A manifestation turned into reality only five years later. From sitting in the lunchroom, making beats on the table to opening for Denzel Curry and Raider Clan. The boys found their fame through Soundcloud a couple years after Eren’s viral video..

filmed at the same shoe store they all worked at..years later and they were all at the height of their game. Now, the guys were preparing for their very first global tour after finishing up their second country wide one. It was a dream come true. But with every whimsical dream follows harsh realities and lately, it had begun to rear its ugly head in the form of a rumor mill surrounding their fellow group mate, EJ himself. There was so much speculation swirling around that the seasoned rapper was dealing with everything from substance abuse to potentially announcing retirement. Granted, they were all baseless and quite frankly, dumb as fuck. However, it didn’t stop interviewers and fans alike from probing the question. And when they couldn’t get the answer straight from the source, they’d have to do the next best thing..

“Yeah, we was just looking to make sum’ that everybody could enjoy.” Chiming in shortly after was Connie Springer, or known by his stage moniker as Prince Cee. The Dominican Republic born, Dade County raised rapper who got his start initially by making songs with his older and younger brothers but ultimately, the two of them decided to give up their supposed pipe dreams for careers in the family restaurant business. As the proud middle child of two immigrant parents, who worked extremely hard to not only provide for their three sons but to essentially live the American dream. It was this same determination and hard work ethic that heavily inspired Connie’s pursuit of his passion. All throughout middle and high school, he would spend hours on end penning lyrics about the various experiences that he had growing up. From migration to witnessing drug deals right in front of him..serving as a journal of sorts. What began as free therapeutic relief soon turned into the catalyst for the inception of Prince Cee. He and Ony had long met as youth football players with the Pop Warner program. But their friendship only grew stronger over time, especially when they discovered that the two of them shared a very strong interest in becoming musicians. By their junior year, the pair had written five songs between the two of them and even recorded one track once EJ joined the fray. After that, the rest was history..needless to say, all of their success were because of one another. Without each other’s support, there was no telling where they would have wound up. But it seemed as if not everyone was in support of this feel good story. In the midst of Eren’s recent arrests, there had not only been speculation of a possible retirement but issues among the group. Many online believed that Connie and Ony would be parting ways with their fellow group mate because of the stigma and that essentially, they had grown tired of ‘living in his shadow’. However, they were here to clear the air once and for all!

“Alright, so while we’re here, gentlemen. You know we gotta talk about it..your homeboy, EJ..he’s been a bit of a hot topic lately. For reasons we not gon’ talk about but we did wanna address some other things and get your opinion on it.”

sat slightly slouched in their seats with their hands propping up their chins..the two gentlemen glared intently at the interviewer. They had a gut feeling that this question would arise at some point during this but they were not in the mood for it, if they were being frank. First and foremost, what happened to their brother was not only frustrating for him but no one’s business and his own to sort through. Certainly not on a platform like this. Hell, they might as well have been cackling with The ShadeRoom themselves! “Nah man, we told y’all before we even came up in here that we wasn’t answering no questions like that.” “Yeah, that ain’t even our situation to speak on, for real..” the gentlemen would suck their teeth before dismissing her preemptive questioning with the wave of a hand. However, it seemed that others were keen on pushing the issue!

“I mean, we just wanna set the record straight..your boy been in the game for some time now. One of the greatest of all time, but lately, he’s had some trouble. Not gon’ lie..so do y’all think that’s a good look for y’all too? Will y’all ever get tired of playing second best to EJ?”

suddenly, the whole studio was met with silence outside of the faint crackle of the microphones and a nearby producer gasping before she even knew it. They were almost certain that viewers would hear and a clip would be making its rounds on the internet by lunch time. Fans of the collective would be ripping the controversial DJ to shreds on social media. However, before any would-be fangirls or blogs could join the fray, the two gentlemen would eat him alive themselves! Ony, who was always more docile and collected in nature..the quietest in the group by far, had honestly had quite enough of this antagonistic and downright, stupid ass interview! Connie, who was all but gripping the arms of his leather chair, ready to fly off the handle was instead, halted by his friend with a palm to his chest.

“Nah, cause what the fu—“

“Hol’ on, bro..I got it.”

not a man of many words outside of his incredible music and select interviews, Ony had implored Eren’s approach early on and because of it, fans adored him that much more. Women fawned all over the very handsome, sexy, charismatic rapper with beautiful dark skin and his signature gold slugs wrapped around his teeth. It was also because of this, that he, much like EJ..was not to be fucked with! If they knew what was good for them, they’d call this session quits now. Grasping the microphone, Ony would flash a smirk, almost huffing and laughing to himself because he knew the words about to leave his mouth were not kind ones and he had been known to have quite the silver tongue. He didn’t mince words and he damn sure didn’t spare feelings, especially when it comes to those he cared about. Everybody could die behind his family..

“Lemme ask you sum’…out of all the years my boy been doing this, just like you said..how many times has he been invited on your show? Hmm? How many times have you reached out for an interview or asked him to come perform for y’all?” The question seemed to invoke both confusion and uncomfortability in the man. A dumbfounded expression on his face..akin to that of a scorned and scolded child. “Up until now, how many times has Dead Boys been on this radio station? Yall ain’t never played our shit, ain’t never invited us on and when you do, it’s for sum’ bullshit. See, this is why ion’ do these lil’ podcasts and shit, y’all talk more than bitches do. Y’all knew what it was before we even came up in here and y’all still gon’ play in our face. All this you see, we did without a deal, we did it without a label, we ain’t had to check in with no nigga in our city to get put on. We ain’t got to run up in everybody else's hood to make it. We ain’t these lil’ 360 ass niggas, we own all ours and that man EJ? Ain’t got nothing but love and all the respect in the world for him because he’s cut from the same cloth. We did this together, that’s our family..this music shit, it means everything to us and if y’all can’t respect him, then y’all don’t respect us and that means we done here..”

Without missing so much as a beat, Ony removed his headset and Connie followed..despite the pleas from the interviewers. But before the gentlemen could exit for good, Connie left them with one more statement that would solidify their stance on the matter. “And since ya’ll watching, just wait until that next album drops. We’ll see who the real great is. All them rumors and shit? Gon’ be put to rest. Let’s go.” And with that, the two of them turned on their heels without so much as even glancing back at the radio hosts. It may not have been their situation, but they handled it on his behalf and for anyone who may have been doubting them, EJ or their collective in general, were about to be in for a rude awakening. They had come too far to allow negative opinions and messy ‘journalists’ to diminish their shine. By the time this hit the internet, their words would be undoubtedly misconstrued but they were not about to let this stop them. If anything, it ignited the dormant spark lying underneath them to go harder. To prove people like that wrong and to show everybody what they were truly made of. Determined..now more than ever to step their game up. This time, it was personal!

“This gon’ be our year, believe that..we made it this far and we ain’t gon’ stop. Me, Connie, EJ, Armin..all of us. We ‘bout to put this industry on its head.”

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meanwhile, the boys weren’t the only ones preparing to make moves..whilst EJ and the rest of his collective were suiting up for PalmFest, album rollouts and such, (y/n) was about to receive some rather unexpected and great news yourself. Unbeknownst in your absence and amid your sabbatical, your manager had been working diligently to secure you a once in a lifetime deal..one that could potentially change the trajectory of your career in an instant.

“I’m sure you’re dying to know what it’s inside…go on, open it.”

currently, you were seated across from her at an outdoor table, overlooking the picturesque Miami waters. The Lapis Lounge was the place to be for anyone who was anyone in this town. Crisp white, designer linen draped marble tables with intricately arranged flowers placed in the center. Wine glasses filled with Pellegrino, shimmered underneath the sunlight; sliced lemons decorating the rim and square China plates sat before the both of you with aesthetically plated dishes that cost more than anything you’d ever dined on willingly. It never not dawned on you how surreal your life was each time you found yourself in these scenarios. Even now, as you chatted with her, intermittently shoving a spoon of panna cotta in your mouth, you couldn’t help but to dwell on the fact that this amount of money could’ve gotten you at least three fish plates and a good tray of oxtails on your side of town! Nonetheless, you’d tremble with anticipation..hands scaling the medium sized, gift wrapped box sat before you. A present, courtesy of Mikasa, who had been brandishing it when you arrived. It was pink with holographic foiling with a tag and bow on top that read: “To (y/n) (l/n). We hope you enjoy it.” You were honestly dumbfounded as to what it could be. But anticipation would not have to kill you any longer as you began to unravel the bow and open up the gift. Your expression would immediately change once you figured out what was beneath all that wrapping paper. Switching from a gaze of utter confusion to a wide gasp complete with a smile.

“Oh my God!—no way…” you were completely taken aback and could, at that very moment..burst into tears but you restrained yourself. Trying to construct and form a thought before speaking. “M-miss..Miss Ackerman, what is this?” “Exactly as it says..congratulations, sweetheart. You’re the new cover girl for Moschino. They sent that to my office this morning and said that they’d love for you to star in their next perfume ad.” You were in utter shock and disbelief. Beyond words even..for anyone that knew you, the (y/n) before the fame..you were quite the dresser. Prior to even coming up on money, you never disappointed when it came to your outfits, hair or makeup. Sporting the most eclectic and well coordinated pieces that could never work for anyone else but you. Outdressing the girls in school who needed brand names to compete but you’d outshine their fly every single time on a budget at a fraction of the price..shopping at the stores they’d deem ‘ghetto’ or lesser, styling your own hair and makeup with nothing but products from the beauty supply down the road from your house and coming to class with all eyes directed at you. Needless to say, you had never really had any use for designer duds. But if there was one fancy label that had piqued your interest, it was Moschino. Everything about it just made you fawn..from its avant- garde pieces, vibrant designs to unique aesthetics, you became obsessed. Although you were no bougie fashion snob, you often dreamed of getting to rock at least one of their pieces. Whether it be a handbag or a thrifted coat, you’d always wanted at least one. And now, years later..your manifestation has become reality! Excited wasn’t even the correct word..feigning back tears, you’d cackle and begin scouring the large PR package they had gifted you. Including their new Moschino Toy 2 Collection, along with their spring 2024 collection.

“And that’s not even the best part. Both Fenty brands actually reached out to me this morning as well with a proposal to feature you in their newest catalogs. I have the contracts for all three offers right here whenever you’re ready. If you agree, you can sign and you’ll officially be on the affiliate payroll..what do you think?”

you were at an utter loss for words. How could you even describe what it was that you were feeling? Honestly, every bit of it felt surreal. There was no way that you, of all people, were about to grace the ad pages for Moschino, Fenty Beauty and Savage x Fenty all in the same month. Not to mention being in two acts for the upcoming PalmFest. Getting to model and truly tap into your creative expression with photoshoots of your own making. The conceptual art, the budget of your choosing..it was a dream come true! Leaning back against your seat, you’d release a faint gasp, slowly shaking your head in utter disbelief as you attempted to feign back tears. It seemed as if you were just overcome with emotion as of late. Not so much from any hardships but the exact opposite. Oftentimes had you prayed for days like this and everything you’d ever hoped for was finally coming into fruition. It was almost as if your star had completely ascended overnight and it wasn’t lost on you that it happened shortly after signing onto Mikasa’s roster. And of course, after meeting Eren. Naturally, you’d never attribute your success to a man unless it was the one upstairs. However, you were grateful that she had thrown you two together that night!

“I..I honestly don’t know what to say. Thank you so much, Ms. Mika. I’m honored and I promise I will do the best I can to make you proud.” hoisting your glass to make a toast; met with soft giggles and a raised champagne flute in return. “Please, you’ve far exceeded that expectation. Just keep doing what you do best, stay genuine and I’ll make certain that you go far in this business.” Just as poised as ever, sipping from her champagne flute when stating so. However, that serene look in her eyes soon dissipated when you brought up the next topic of discussion. One that you had no idea was such a sore subject for your manager. “It’s crazy what a couple months can do. I mean, I was just backstage with EJ, getting a pep talk about how to navigate the crowd. ‘Swear..wouldn’t have known what to do if it wasn’t for him. He’s so much nicer than what everyone said too but I’m sure you already knew–” before you had the opportunity to complete your long winded tangent, singing the rapper’s praises, Mikasa would ingest a big gulp before clearing her throat. It took a moment for you to notice the shift in her mood and her facial expressions but you immediately became concerned. “Is everything okay?” “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just got strangled, is all..” Prompting you to focus your attention on her wellbeing rather than your newest fling and her sworn enemy on the moment. Truth be told, she hadn’t exactly confronted her issues with Eren head on. Ever since that day in his studio, she had felt nothing but pure rage in her heart whenever the thought even so much as crossed her mind. Honestly, she had nothing to say to him or about him but she’d be lying if she said that the prospect of both their professional and business relationship being annulled..wouldn’t sting. Years of friendship, hard work, determination, advocating for one another and fighting their way to the top of the industry as a power duo, all down the drain over a stupid fight. She couldn’t blame Eren for his reaction but it didn’t make his words sting any less. Make no mistake, she still believed in him and his ability to make a comeback but it was going to take some time before she was able to see him as a manager or friend..

“You seem to really like Eren..” the comment sends a pang to the very pit of your stomach, making you quickly try to recant your earlier statements and downplay the oversharing of feelings for the seasoned rapper. However, that glimmer in your eye and visible reaction in body language was a dead giveaway. You could no longer fake your feelings for EJ the Don and if anyone saw through the facade, it was her.

“Well, ya know..he’s cool. He just helped me–

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You don’t have to mince words with me. Trust me, that boy’s got your head so far in the clouds, I think you may float away.” It was official, she had you pegged just as well as your best friends. It was blatantly obvious that the two of you had something serious going on..whether you wanted to admit that fact to yourselves or not. Lowering your head, (Y/N) released a soft chuckle in half relief and half embarrassment. You were acting like an airheaded schoolgirl over a man you barely even knew and everyone around you had obviously peeped.

“Listen, (y/n)..I’ll be honest with you. Eren and I? We’re not exactly on good terms at the moment. Hell, even bringing up his name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I’ll spare you the gritty details but..as it stands, he’s no longer my client and certainly not my friend. I’m only telling you this because I don’t want you to be alarmed or in the dark about any awkward tension..in the event we all happen to end up in the same circle. PalmFest is right around the corner and truthfully..I don’t know if I have it in my heart to forgive him. I don’t know if he can forgive me either..” The declaration was made through restrained tears and obvious hurt. You’d never seen your manager break her stoic and calm demeanor once since you’ve known her but now? She was completely different. More vulnerable and certainly more emotional than she’d ever gotten but she had to keep her cool. Put on that brave facade and try not to let it get to her. Also, she could see the visible shock on your face and how saddened you looked by the revelation. You hated confrontation and the idea of your potential beau and your manager being at odds was not good. You could tell they were very close and although it was certainly none of your business, you hoped they reached a resolution soon.

“I’m also telling you this because I don’t think that my or anyone else’s opinion should stand in the way of you two being happy. Regardless of how I feel about him right now..Eren was one of the very few people in my life that kept me grounded when I needed it most. He’s never really gotten excited about anything outside of music or work..but I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt, I’ve never seen that man smile as much as I have since you showed up.”

This revelation was certainly news to you! Even though you didn’t want to read much into it or get carried away, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t one hell of a confidence boost! The cold hearted ice king, EJ the Don himself..gushing over the likes of you? You were shocked! But he obviously had a thing for you. Whether that was just lust or perhaps something more..was yet to be determined. In the meantime, your manager had one last tidbit of friendly advice for you. As woman to woman.

“I don’t know what it is about you but you obviously make him very happy and I can tell that he’s done the same for you. That’s important in this business…hold on to that. I don’t know two people who are more deserving.” In that moment, behind the strict expressions and no nonsense persona, Mikasa seemed to falter just a bit in that moment. Softening right before your eyes..it was very clear that she meant every single word that left her mouth. She wanted to see Eren happy even if she had to do so from the sidelines as someone who was no longer a part of his life. And you? She had never seen someone so kind, energetic and sweet before. She’d heard first hand from Niesha how much a workaholic you were and despite you just getting started, you deserved at least a bit of a reward. Hoisting your glass once more, you’d flash her a bright beaming smile, even giggling a bit to feign off crying because it took nothing for you to become emotional..especially when sentimental statements like that were involved.

“Thank you Miss Mika..I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. Just promise me you’ll stay focused and keep your eyes on the prize. You’ve worked so hard. Don’t let anyone get in the way of that.”

“You have my word..”

With that, the two of you clinked your champagne flutes together and took obligatory swigs of the bubbly concoction inside. Rinsing away the intensity of the previous conversation. Now it was back to more pertinent matters!

“That’s my girl..now, back to this photoshoot. Let’s talk about the details because I have a few ideas that I think you’ll just absolutely adore..”

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page break and time skip: two days later

Hard Rock Stadium: Stage A, Miami Beach

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With the long anticipated PalmFest approaching a lot sooner rather than later, it seemed that everyone as a collective was working diligently to ensure that it would be nothing short of a stellar success. Stage crews worked overtime as they secured support beams for the stages..testing the lightning a million times over and getting everyone’s pyrotechnics in order for those who needed them. Running simulations of backdrops for each performer to make sure no one suffered from a glitch when the time finally came. Some of the biggest names in the industry would be setting foot on that very stage come three days from now. The entire weekend was one that would undoubtedly be for the books; for musical talents and attendees alike. Meanwhile, the executives had come out of their glass paned offices to observe the scene for themselves. Among the fray was none other than Erwin Smith, who had been working directly with everyone to relay orders and needs as well. He was the one heading this project so it was only natural for him to come show his face. Besides, with his reliant leadership style, everyone could rest assured that if any last minute changes or major pieces needed to be handled, he was the man to do so. At that very moment, he was seated in the front row as the lights dimmed on the overhead structure. Below them was quite possibly not only one of, but two of the festival’s most anticipated acts..Atelier Kiss and Pole Assassins! An unlikely yet dynamic pairing. The two groups had come together one time prior when the band was on their last tour. The dancing quintet had just gotten their start when lead man, Jean Kirschtein himself asked for the ladies to join them for their hometown reunion. Rivaling the sounds of Deftones and Avenged Sevenfold, the infamous group put a unique spin on rock music and changed the genre as everyone knew it. Jean, a native of Louisiana..had always harbored an affinity for blues, jazz, country and soul music. But to his core, he was a metal head. Growing up on the sounds of Metallica, Black Sabbath and Def Leppard, he wanted to combine all sides of the musical spectrum. He didn’t want to limit himself or his bandmates to one particular style. He fought to break stereotypes and bring an innovative style of rock and roll to the scene. He also had the privilege of receiving the tutelage of Vivian James and needless to say, he absorbed plenty from the Neo Soul Siren herself. His ultimate creation was, in his own words.. ‘The result of Kiss, Tina Turner and Waylon Jennings having an illegitimate love child.’ An interesting combination to put it lightly! But that insane mix worked for Atelier Kiss and years later, they’re regarded as one of the highest selling bands of the 21st century..no small feat by any stretch of the imagination. That deep, silky yet soulful vibrato of his could be recognized from earshot anywhere and Erwin had just gotten an exclusive concert just for his listening pleasure only as the groups had just wrapped up practice for their upcoming set.

“You guys..pardon my language..but that was fucking amazing.” The brash comment sending everyone on the stage into light hearted hysterics, even laughing. It was rare to even see the director ever crack a smile or break character but for anyone who was familiar with the former lead guitarist of Atelier Kiss’ predecessor, Maria’s Way..led by none other than the president and director themselves..they’d know that this was far tame for Mr. Smith. To him, he felt right at home watching the beautiful ladies twirl the pole as the rockstar crooned sultry and lewd lyrics into the mic. He had done the exact same many years prior..needless to say, he was proud of you all! Seeing as how they’d be opening the show, you guys had to make one hell of a first impression or the entire show would fall to shit. But that wasn’t even a possibility. The leaders of both groups were not only hard workers, but overachievers as well. Both Jean and (Y/N) had something serious to prove.

“Seriously, I’ve never seen anything like this and I cannot wait for you all to perform. Well done. Especially you ladies..being able to construct a routine of this caliber on such short notice? I’m blown away.” A statement that rang true..as it was only after your meeting with Mikasa two days ago, did he call you up and ask about performing with Atelier Kiss. Naturally, you accepted with bells on! Nevermind the fact that you’d also be on stage with a segment of your own, hosting a little contest alongside Prince Cee and Armin to see which lucky audience member could not only sway them but outdance you girls for their chance to win one thousand dollars cash right there. You’d be pulling double duty and exhausting yourselves in the process but all the more exposure, the better. And you were certain that your girls were up to the task!

“Ya’ hear that, girls? Sounds like we got the boss man’s stamp of approval. I’d say we’re good to call it a night.” Something that you all could get behind and appreciate, seeing as how darkness had already set fall over the sky. As excited as you all were, rest was going to be crucial in making a great performance happen. Slowly but surely, the stage hands and band members alike all helped you down from your poles and to your feet. All of them would thank your group and the sentiments were mirrored. But before you all could depart for home, Jean was hoping for an audience with you.

“Aye..(Y/N). Do you mind if we talk for a minute?

It was certainly an odd request..you’d consider yourself rather good friends with the lead singer but it wasn’t often that you had the chance to speak in private and quite honestly, there was no need! But by the indication of his tone, you could tell it may have been serious.

“Of course!” you’d wave to your girls and alert them that you’d catch up with them shortly. Meanwhile, you and Jean would venture off to the side of the stage to converse. He’d grasp your hand and help you down to the edge before handing you a water bottle. He was always just as chivalrous as he was kind..admirable qualities in a man and a friend in general. Graciously accepting, you’d thank him for the kind gestures before inquiring about his request.

“So what did you wanna talk about? Something wrong with the routine?” peering down at the ground, he’d be quick to dismiss that notion. This matter was a bit more personal and he truthfully couldn’t be sure of how you’d take it. “Nah, nothing like that..before I start running my mouth though. Are you and EJ..seeing each other?” Instantaneously, the question both caught you off guard and invoked a very physical reaction in you. You were so confused as to why he’d spring such a question up on you. It wasn’t as if either of you had made this little situationship you were involved in blatantly obvious but anyone with two functioning eyes could see that there was something going on between the two of you. Make no mistake, it wasn’t any more of his business as it was some random blog on the internet but you also didn’t strike Jean as the nosy type. He didn’t meddle in others’ affairs unless it pertained to his own and now that you were thinking about it, you could see why he harbored a vested interest of sorts…

“I mean..we talk from time to time. Nothing too serious..” but alas, he had his answer the moment you clutched that bottle as if you were trying to squeeze the life out of it and the way your eyes lit up at the sheer mention of his name. “Ahh, you don’t have to play coy with me. We’re friends..besides, it’s none of my business. But there was something I wanted to bring to your attention..” swallowing another gulp of his beverage, Jean would cease his light chuckle and return to a far more serious gaze than before. One that worried you a bit..what exactly was on his mind and how did it involve you? Granted, his fiancee had made him privy to their little spat a couple weeks back and how they were no longer on speaking terms. But it was just as Mikasa had said, their quarrel was in no way a reflection of how you should proceed with talking to him! Even so, you couldn’t help but to be intrigued by the blonde’s words. You’d rather someone tell you than to be in the dark about something important later on down the line.

“..I won’t sit here and pretend that he and I are best friends or anything. Never have been..hell, we’ve been at each other's throats since I’ve known him. Point is, I just want you to be careful. I know it’s not my place or anything..but I saw you guys together on the boat a couple weeks ago. And even though I can say for certainty that he’s not some womanizing sleazebag..dude’s selfish as hell. I mean, he never answers his phone, not even in emergencies. He doesn’t show up for meetings even when other people’s jobs are on the line..he’s just the worst!” By Jean’s frustrated rant, you can tell that Eren had done a thing or two to crawl underneath his skin. Even so, you couldn’t help but to laugh! Just as you had explained to your girls, you’d tell him, Mikasa and everyone else the exact same:

“ I appreciate the concern, Jean. But he and I are just friends, that’s all…no need to worry. I promise.”

You honestly found the sentiment sweet. That everyone was concerned about you and your wellbeing. Jean himself was overly cautious about the people in his life and rightfully so. This industry was a beast and a half and it would devour you whole if you allowed it. The last thing anyone wanted was for you to get hurt by somebody you seemingly held in high regard. Scoffing, the blonde would shake his head once more and cackle. He didn’t want you becoming angry with him over insinuations or baseless accusations. Truth be told, you and Eren didn’t know much about one another outside of the physical aspect but as it stood since your last hookup, he was hoping to change that. He was making a valiant and active effort to be more than just friends with benefits. That much was apparent by his consistent communication and the few flower arrangements he had sent to your apartment; a sweet little surprise after a long day of practice and work. You were appreciative of everyone’s concern but this was one matter you’d have to see to the end for yourself. Whether it played out in your favor or not.

“I figured you’d say as much. In all seriousness, you’ve become like family here at AMG. All of you have and we look out for one another. Everyone has seen how hard you work and we’d just hate for that to become jeopardized in any way. You just make sure that dummy doesn’t do anything to hurt you. If he does, you know who to call.” his offer sending you into a fit of giggles once more. But you had no doubt that you were in good hands. For the time being, you’d just play it cool and roll with the punches. “You know I appreciate you, boo. Thank you for looking out for me.” Swinging your arm around, you’d coil Jean’s neck and embrace him in a tight hug. You were extremely grateful for the people in your life right now and you knew that things were only about to become even better. Your angels were definitely looking out for you. The two of you would begin to stand up, reaching his hand out to assist you once more. It was amid your banter about the upcoming show that your phone began to ring and you’d prepare to part ways.

“...Hey, make sure to get some rest..all of you! You’re sure as hell gonna need it.”

“Aye, you ain’t gotta tell me twice! I’m headed home straight after this. And tell that pretty lady of yours I said hey!..”

But upon exchanging those pleasantries and goodbyes, your spoken plans were sure to become derailed and by the aforementioned topic nonetheless..you’d peer down at your phone screen to be suddenly greeted with none other than the contact name ‘EJ’. You didn’t want to seem extremely desperate for his attention or anything but you had been itching to hear from him. As it had been a day or two since your last phone call. He’d text you every morning and maintain consistent contact throughout the day..which you could appreciate because Jean was right about one thing: EJ moved on his time and his alone so he didn’t owe you a single thing and as he had revealed to you, he was in the process of cultivating his new album so you imagined that the Facetimes and texts would become scarce as the deadline drew near. As well as the fast approaching PalmFest. However, there was another reason he was reaching out. After the second or third ring, you’d swipe the arrow left and answer him.

“Hey EJ..”

“Hey gorgeous..how are you?”

The name sends immediate pangs to the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help but to amass butterflies when you so much as heard his name so naturally, the sweet gestures made it even worse.

“I’m doing well, thanks..and I hope you are too.”

“I’m having a wonderful day now that I’ve gotten the chance to hear from you.”

“You know, you really do know how to make a girl feel special.”

“What can I say? A smart man recognizes a good thing when he sees it..I’d be crazy to mess that up, now wouldn’t I?”

Only a minute into your conversation, (Y/N) found yourself fawning over his buttery smooth words and that silky voice. Regardless, there was a reason he was calling you so late in the day and you had to know why.

“Listen, I don’t wanna take up too much of your time or anything and forgive me if I’m interruptin’ or anything. I saw your Instagram, I know you’ve been out here working hard..you know I never wanna take you away from your money..but if it was possible, I was hoping I could see you tonight. Maybe we could get together and finally have that date we were talking about..” Befuddled in your tracks, you had to take a moment to respond. Maybe it was the bare minimum and you weren’t exactly used to being courted in such a manner, but you appreciated his words. He valued your time just the same as his own..he didn’t see your profession as something lesser and certainly didn’t think you the type to be sitting around, awaiting his call. Because of this, you were thrilled to see him again and to finally have that quality time you both desired. Granted, the sex was downright impeccable between the two of you but it was obvious that you each were craving far more than physical intimacy..at the moment, it was only five thirty so you’d have ample enough time to make it back home and get yourself together. After all, it was your first official date and you wanted to be dressed accordingly! And with this festival and other projects looming over your heads, this was the perfect time to sneak in some personal breathing room..so without a moment more of hesitation..

“..I’d love that, thank you, Eren. I’m just now leaving practice but give me a couple hours and you can slide through.”

“Of course, beautiful. I’m so sorry it’s on such short notice but I’m glad you agreed to see me..I missed you.” Something about him was starkly different from the man you saw in interviews or on stage but it was so nice to be around someone so kind. He made you truly feel safe and that you’d made the right decision..

“I missed you too..I’ll see you in a bit, okay? Bye.”

“Bye..”

You just hoped that for your sake..you didn’t meet the side that Jean was seeming to warn you about. In the meantime, you had to make sure you were looking right!..

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three hours later..

On the opposite side of town, you and Eren weren’t the only two lovebirds indulging in the woes of being an item.

“You know, if you keep touching me like that, I’ll never get any work done..”

“That’s the entire point, my love. C’mon, it’s late..you deserve a break.”

at the future Kirschtein residence, Jean was attempting to woo his bride to get some much needed alone time. The couple had both been working nonstop during this time for the upcoming performance, their individual careers and of course, the wedding that was said to be ‘one for the books’. As excited as they were for all the new things happening in their life, rest was equally as important and as it stood, it was definitely a rarity. But it wasn’t the only thing that had been lacking..

“You just want some ass, admit it.”

“Okay, I just want some ass. There, I said it.”

the blonde was currently stationed behind his fiancée, who was still typing away at her computer and delegating orders via email at this time of night. For Mikasa, the grind truly never subsided. She would work in her sleep if it were feasible but there was nothing wrong with enjoying yourself every once in a while. Something Jean was hoping to accomplish tonight..in more ways than one. Despite her always stoic attitude, she couldn’t help but to fold and cackle at his advances. He was brutally honest to a fault and she appreciated that. Currently, he was feeling up her sides…marking up her neck with a trail of kisses and whispering all the things she wanted to hear. Even she couldn’t resist the charms and temptation of a man like him. It was that very behavior that had bagged her in the first place!..

“Alright, sir! Cut it out..I swear, you’re such a freak. The last time we tried that, you said you couldn’t breathe.”

“Yeah, but I would’ve died the happiest man ever..”

his southern twang peeking through the conversation as he reminisced on their most recent and salacious rendezvous. Nonetheless, he just wanted quality time with his lady. “Fine, give me two more minutes and I’ll be right there.” That was as good of a concession as he was going to get so Jean took the bait and accepted. “Two minutes, woman! Two minutes..” signaling the number with his fingers as he walked out..but even so, she couldn’t help but to chime in with a joke as he departed to the bedroom.

“If that’s how long you’re gonna last, I might as well stay right here—“ “Oh, shut up! Damn brat..”

cackling as he exited the room, Mikasa covered her mouth to attempt to feign her laughter. It was little moments like this that she enjoyed the most out of every aspect of her life. “Love you, babe!” But it was just as she was preparing to call it quits for the night, would she be met with quite the surprise. The inbox and screen were all but empty until a push notification appeared in the corner along with a burner email and a blank subject line. At first, it struck her as odd but suddenly, the dots began to connect for her. After a moment of reluctance, Mikasa would double click the email and open it up. Only to be greeted with nothing more than an audio file. “Okay, this is strange..” but alas, she’d still proceed and once it began playing, there was no doubt in her mind who the sender was..as she allowed it to play, the manager began to tear up, along with a soft chuckle. It was all making sense now..and needless to say, she was backed into a corner.

“You bastard..damn you. You always did get your way, I guess this time is no different.”

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 9 days

Text

Love Story

Colette is an up and coming actor, Harry is an international popstar who fell in love with cinema. When the pair work on a rendition of Romeo and Juliet, their worlds collide as feelings develop.

CW: Brief mention of dying, Smut.

Word Count: 11,860

Colette stepped into her dressing room, a lavishly appointed space designed to echo the opulence of the Verona in which her film "Romeo and Juliet" was set. The walls were draped in deep burgundy velvet curtains, softening the room with a rich, warm texture that whispered of hidden secrets and dramatic declarations. Golden accents framed mirrors and furniture, reflecting the flickering light from several ornately carved silver candelabras positioned thoughtfully around the room.

As she entered, her eyes were drawn to the vanity, an exquisite piece of craftsmanship with an expansive mirror bordered by tiny bulbs that bathed the area in a gentle, flattering light. Upon the surface lay an array of cosmetics and brushes, each laid out with precision, their handles catching glints of light like miniature scepters waiting to bestow their magic upon her.

The air was filled with a subtle scent of roses and myrrh, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and invigorating, as if the very essence of romance and tragedy had been captured and dispersed through the room. A large window draped with heavy curtains looked out upon a secluded garden that boasted marble statues peeking through lush greenery—Juliet's own secret sanctuary.

Colette’s costume hung on a dress form; it was a stunning creation of silk and lace, the fabric dyed in shades of moonlight and adorned with delicate embroidery that mimicked the intricate patterns of an Italian tapestry. The bodice was fitted, designed to accentuate her figure while allowing for the dramatic movements required in her scenes.

Next to the dress stood a pair of custom-made shoes, their leather soft and supple, seeming almost alive, like they were molded from a piece of night itself. They were embellished with small pearls and crystals, which twinkled like stars against the shadowy backdrop.

On a small table beside her plush, velvet-covered chaise lounge lay her script, its pages worn from use yet handled with reverence. It was flanked by a quill and an inkpot—an affectation provided by the director to inspire connection to the era they were emulating—as well as a delicate teacup painted with scenes from Shakespeare’s works.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself amidst this feast for senses—a real-life canvas painted with details fit for royalty—Colette prepared mentally to step once again into Juliet's world: one where love defied reason and every corner held both beauty and sorrow. She sat at her vanity, poised to transform under the artful hands of her makeup artist, ready to breathe life into Shakespeare's timeless lover once more.

The door to her dressing room opened with a soft creak, heralding the arrival of Madame Laurette, the makeup artist whose skills transformed actresses into visions from another time. Clad in a smock splattered with the remnants of foundation and rouge from previous masterpieces, Madame Laurette carried an ancient-looking leather case, which she set down with a practiced grace next to Colette.

"Ah, my dear," Madame Laurette began, her voice a soothing melody, "today we paint the tragedy and triumph of young love upon your canvas." Her hands were deft as they opened the case, revealing rows upon rows of pots and brushes, pencils and palettes; tools of the trade laid out like a surgeon's instruments, each with a purpose to bring forth beauty from bareness.

With delicate fingers, Madame Laureette applied a light moisturizer to Colette's face, preparing the skin like a primed canvas. She then used a sponge to dab on foundation that matched Colette's complexion so perfectly it seemed as if it were but a whisper on her skin. As she worked, she spoke softly about the character of Juliet—her passion, her grace, her strength in the face of despair.

Next came the eyes—windows to Juliet's soul. Madame Laurette chose shades that reflected the hues of twilight; dusky purples and soft blues blended seamlessly to suggest a depth of emotion. The eyeliner was applied in a fine line, accentuating the shape of Colette's eyes, making them appear larger, more expressive. Lashes were curled and coated with mascara that made them flutter like the wings of a night moth.

Cheeks were next attended with a brush dusted in rose-pink blush that brought a gentle bloom to her porcelain skin, reminiscent of English roses in bloom. It was as if Juliet herself had paused in a garden, momentarily caught up in thoughts of her Romeo.

Lips were not forgotten—painted in a soft red that was bold yet not overwhelming—a color that whispered of promises and kissed by starlight. As Madame Laurette worked her magic, the transformation from actress to character was nearly complete.

Finally, Madame Laurette set everything with a light dusting of powder which seemed to pull forth an ethereal glow from within Colette herself. Standing back to admire her work, she nodded slightly as if granting approval to proceed with the act.

As Madame Laurette packed away her tools and bid her farewell with wishes of good luck, Colette took one last look at herself in the mirror. Now staring back was Juliet Capulet: tragic yet triumphant in her love—a young woman framed not only by curls dark as raven wings but also by an aura of timeless romance that would soon spill over onto the stage under countless watching stars.

Her movements were infused with an anticipatory grace that seemed woven from the very threads of the narratives she was set to embody. The costume assistant approached, a vision of focus and professionalism, carrying the garment that would complete the transformation: a dress that seemed spun from moonlight and gossamer dreams.

The dress itself was a masterpiece of historical accuracy blended with theatrical flair. Its fabric was a whisper-soft silk that flowed like water over Colette's form, pooling slightly at her feet in a shimmering cascade of sky-blue. Intricate embroidery adorned the bodice, featuring delicate vines and flowers meticulously stitched with silver thread, catching the light with every subtle movement and suggesting a lattice of morning dew. Sleeves of sheer chiffon draped elegantly from her shoulders, airy and almost translucent, giving her arms the appearance of being wrapped in wisps of cloud.

As she stepped into the dress, the assistant deftly laced up the back, pulling the strings tight enough to sculpt her waist without hindering breath—a crucial balance for any performer. The final touch was a delicate ribbon tied in a bow just below her collarbone, a nod to youthful innocence and burgeoning romance.

Once dressed, Colette floated towards the full-length mirror, her steps tentative yet poised as though she were both discovering and remembering Juliet’s haunted grace. Her reflection seemed to transcend time; here was Juliet not as mere fiction, but resurrected in flesh and blood and silk, her eyes alight with both excitement and a hint of sorrow for the tale she was to live anew.

Taking a deep breath that lifted her chest slightly against the soft confines of her dress, Colette turned away from her reflection—away from Juliet's temporary shelter—and made her way out of the dressing room. The corridor outside was lined with flickering candles encased in glass lanterns hanging from ornate metal stands, casting shadows that danced like shy phantoms on the walls.

As she walked, her dress whispered secrets only she could hear, each step a murmur of silk. Exiting the building, she stepped out into an expanse that felt less like part of a film set and more like stepping through a wrinkle in time into Verona itself. The set designers had outdone themselves; cobblestone streets wound beneath balconies overflowing with ivy and blooms. Lamps glowed softly along pathways and a distant fountain murmured in melodious tones.

Here under the vast expanse of an artificial twilight sky beginning to pin itself with stars, Colette paused at the center of an old square waiting for Harry's arrival. In this moment suspended between reality and fiction—where night air kissed her cheeks as sweetly as any lover might—she was neither Colette nor Juliet but something timeless; a whisper of love’s eternal reverie waiting to be awakened by Romeo’s pledge beneath soft-footed shadows.

Colette felt eborn into another age and another life—her heart beating rapidly with anticipation and empathy for her character’s imminent joys and sorrows. She moved towards the set where artificial stars awaited their nightly audience and real emotions would stir under painted skies.

Just as the anticipation in the air reached its peak, Harry emerged from the shadows, a figure pulled from the very pages of Shakespeare. His costume was a masterpiece of Elizabethan artistry—velvet doublet embroidered with intricate silver threads that caught the light with every subtle movement, making him shimmer like a star newly born into the night sky. His breeches were of a similar rich fabric, hugging his legs with a precision that spoke of many hours spent in the tailor’s care. Upon his feet were boots made of soft leather that whispered against the cobblestones as he moved.

His hair, usually untamed and wild, had been tamed into soft waves that framed his face, echoing the romantic heroes of old. Around his neck, a heavy chain with a cross pendant rested against his chest, gleaming softly in the lamplight. His eyes, when they met Colette's, sparkled with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy—the perfect echo of Romeo’s own youthful vibrance and passionate soul.

As Harry walked closer to where Colette stood, waiting in her character's eternal reverie, his presence seemed to draw the very essence of the night towards him. The distant murmur of the fountain seemed to harmonize with his every step, creating a melody that resonated with the quiet rustling of Colette’s gown. Each element of the scene—the glowing lamps along the pathways, the soft rustle of ivy against stone—seemed to lean towards him, as if nature itself was eager to hear the tale these two star-crossed lovers would enact.

The square they occupied breathed with an air of ancient romance; it was as though they had truly stepped back in time and were no longer actors on a set but living embodiments of their characters. The buildings surrounding them wore age like proud badges, their windows darkened save for the occasional flicker of candlelight that suggested life continuing unaware inside. Above them, the crescent moon cradled stars that had witnessed countless tales of love and tragedy.

Harry reached the center of the square, his boots clicking on the cobblestones with a rhythmic certainty. He stopped before Colette, who remained motionless, her gaze fixed upon him with an intensity that belied the serene expression on her face. Her costume—a flowing dress of midnight blue, embroidered with tiny silver threads—whispered tales of bygone elegance as it caught the breeze, fluttering lightly around her ankles.

Clearing his throat softly, Harry began to recite Romeo's lines with a tender fervor that seemed to pull at the very air around him. "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." His voice rose and fell in perfect cadence, each word a brushstroke painting emotions across the canvas of the night.

As he spoke, an unexpected gust of wind stirred the leaves around them into a gentle dance, mirroring the turmoil brewing in Romeo's heart as he gazed upon his forbidden love. The scent of rose and old stone mingled together, casting a spell over the scene that was palpable. The director, hidden in the shadows beyond the set's makeshift lights, allowed himself a small smile at the authenticity of this moment—cinema magic in its purest form.

Colette responded in kind, her voice carrying back to Harry with equal parts longing and restraint. "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" She stepped forward slightly, her hands clasped before her as if to steady her racing heart. Her eyes never left Harry's, and in them flickered the fire of Juliet's love—a burning, all-consuming flame that acknowledged neither reason nor consequence.

The crew around them had ceased all movement; even those seasoned in film felt themselves caught in the spellbinding performance unfolding before them. The prop master forgot his duties for a moment, lost in the authenticity of Colette's accent and the palpable connection between her and Harry.

Above them, clouds began to drift across the moon's face slowly veiling and unveiling the celestial glow. This natural play of light added a dramatic flair to the scene below—an unwitting collaboration between man and nature that highlighted this poignant moment of shared solitude between two lovers cursed by fate.

Every detail was perfect, the way the lamplight flickered as though trembling with anticipation; how a distant owl hooted right at Juliet’s tender confession; the subtle shift of fabric as Harry moved closer to Colette—contributed to an atmosphere thick with drama and history. Even those behind cameras or holding booms felt as if they were no longer just creating but witnessing something transcendent; a story retold yet forever new in its telling.

As Harry delivered Romeo’s pledge of undying love beneath Juliet's window conceived anew beneath towering oaks and ageless stone buildings, it was clear this was not merely a recitation but an act of truth.

The director, normally a stoic figure shadowed by the breadth of his responsibilities, allowed a rare smile to creep across his face as the final words lingered in the air, trembling like the leaves around them. His approach was silent, reverent almost, as if stepping into a sacred space that the actors had conjured with their spellbinding talent.

"Cut!" he called out, but the word was soft, filled more with awe than command. The silence that followed was profound, filled with the collective held breath of the crew before they erupted into spontaneous applause. The clapping rolled through the set like thunderous waves, each member expressing their unbridled admiration for what they had witnessed.

The director raised his hands, beckoning for quiet, his eyes gleaming with both pride and something akin to gratitude. "That," he said, his voice steady but imbued with emotion, "was nothing short of magnificent. Harry, Colette—I've seen many a scene in my years behind the camera, but what you both have delivered today transcends performance. It reaches into the core of what it means to be human; to love, to despair, to hope."

He walked over to the actors, who were still nestled in their characters' final embrace, slowly returning to themselves as they listened to his praises. "Colette," he continued, turning to her with a respectful nod. "Your Juliet is both vulnerable and fiery; you’ve given her a depth that breathes new life into Shakespeare’s lines. And Harry," he turned with equal admiration to the young actor whose eyes still held a glimmer of Romeo's passion. "You’ve played Romeo not just as a lover but as a warrior fighting against the inevitable tragedy of his fate. Exceptional work."

The surrounding buildings and trees seemed to absorb his words, casting longer shadows as if in agreement. The director then turned towards the crew members who had captured every nuanced moment on film. "And let’s not forget the incredible work of our crew—lighting, sound, props—this magic can’t happen without each piece falling perfectly into place."

He clapped his hands together once more, this time signaling an end rather than silence. "Alright folks, let’s pack up here—remember this feeling of accomplishment. We’ve got early scenes tomorrow and we need to bring this same energy."

As they disbanded gradually, whispers of praise continued amongst them like quiet ripples on a pond at dusk; everyone shared part of the triumph. Juliet’s balcony scene would be remembered not just for its beauty and tragedy but for its vivid realness that evening under the shrouded moonlight—an echo of love carried softly by the wind through the leaves of those ancient trees.

As the crew began to disperse, the air filled with the clatter of equipment being packed and the soft murmur of satisfied conversations. Harry and Colette slowly walked side by side toward the dressing rooms, their costumes slightly less pristine than they had been at the start of the day but still radiant under the fading sunlight. The path was lined with ancient oaks, their branches gnarled and stretched toward the sky like silent watchers of countless tales unfolding under their gaze.

Harry glanced at Colette, noting how the evening breeze gently lifted strands of her hair. She looked ethereal, a stark contrast to the raw intensity she had displayed on stage just moments before. "You were truly magnificent today," he said, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered in the cool air. "It’s amazing how you transform so completely."

Colette smiled, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Thank you, Harry. You were incredible as well. There’s a certain ferocity you bring to Romeo that’s both thrilling and heart-wrenching."

They reached the dressing rooms, tucked behind a curtain of ivy that draped over the stone walls of the old stage building. Its doors stood like portals back to reality from the whimsical world they had just left behind on set.

Pausing by her door, Harry shuffled slightly, a mix of eagerness and hesitation playing across his features. "Colette, I was wondering, would you... perhaps care for some dinner? There’s this little place I know nearby, quite secluded, perfect for winding down."

The offer hung between them like a delicate promise; a chance to extend the enchantment of their shared performance into the evening. Colette’s eyes lit up with genuine interest. "That sounds lovely, Harry. A quiet dinner would be perfect." Her smile was inviting, bridging the gap between their on-set romance and off-set camaraderie.

As they walked towards Harry's car parked under a canopy of whispering leaves, they talked about everything from their interpretations of their characters to trivial anecdotes from their daily lives. The restaurant was nestled in an alley illuminated by strings of faint golden lights that created halos in the misty night air.

Inside, they chose a corner table surrounded by bookshelves filled with worn volumes and odd trinkets—a cozy retreat from the outside world. As they ordered, they continued to unravel layers of conversation, each topic a stepping stone deeper into each other’s thoughts and dreams.

The meal was delicious—simple fare but made with care—a reflection of the restaurant itself. They laughed over shared appetizers and lingered over wine that painted their thoughts in broader strokes. The candlelight flickered across their faces, casting soft shadows that danced to an unplayed rhythm.

By dessert, Harry found himself watching Colette with renewed appreciation as she articulated her ambitions for future roles and her vision for modern theatrical interpretation. She listened equally intently as he described his journey through being a musician and his aspirations beyond.

As Harry and Colette lingered over the last sips of their drinks, the cozy warmth of the restaurant began to feel like a protective cocoon against the crisp night air outside. They shared a quiet moment, smiling at the serendipity of their meeting and the depth of conversation it had spurred. But as they rose to leave, pushing their chairs back gently against the worn wooden floor, the surreal bubble they had enjoyed burst with abrupt clarity.

Stepping out onto the alley, they were met not by the quiet of the night but by a sudden burst of flashing lights and clamorous voices. Paparazzi, having caught wind of their dinner together, swarmed around them like moths to a flame. Cameras clicked and flashed relentlessly, capturing every gesture and expression, as reporters shouted questions trying to pierce through the veil of their private evening.

"Harry! Colette! Are you two more than just co-stars?" one voice rang out, sharper than the rest.

"Is this dinner a sign of a new Hollywood power couple?" another chimed in.

Shields up against this intrusive barrage, Harry instinctively placed a protective arm around Colette’s shoulders. He guided her gracefully yet swiftly towards his car, parked under the now ominous canopy of leaves that whispered secrets in a tone much darker than before. Each flash from the cameras cast stark shadows on the ground and painted their path in fast paced steps.

Colette kept her head down slightly, her smile replaced by a composed mask of cordial indifference; it was clear she was no stranger to these encounters but nonetheless hoped they might evade them tonight. Harry muttered a polite "have a good night" as he helped her into the passenger seat of his car.

Inside the relative safety of the vehicle, they exchanged a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation—and Harry let out a sigh as he started the engine. The lights outside continued to flash through the tinted windows as he maneuvered out of their parking spot.

The drive back was quiet at first, as if they were both processing the sudden shift from intimate conversation to public spectacle. Yet soon enough, Harry turned down the volume on an ambient tune that had started playing automatically when they entered.

"That was intense," he said, glancing over at Colette with an apologetic half-smile.

"It always is," Colette replied, turning to face him with a resigned smile. "But hey, part of our charming careers, right?"

Harry laughed softly. "Yeah, charm is one word for it."

As the car glided through the dimly lit streets, the silence between them grew heavy with unspoken thoughts. Colette broke the tension first, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of frustration.

"I sometimes wonder if this is what we signed up for, you know? The constant scrutiny, the invasion of privacy... Is it worth it in the end?" she mused, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights.

Harry nodded thoughtfully, his grip on the steering wheel tightening imperceptibly. "I ask myself that question too, especially on nights like this. It's like we're always under a microscope, every move dissected and analyzed by strangers."

A sense of comfort blossomed between them, a shared understanding born out of their parallel experiences in the spotlight. Colette turned to Harry, a spark of defiance igniting in her eyes.

"But despite all of that," she continued, her voice gaining strength, "we can't let them define us or dictate our every move. We're more than just their headlines and gossip fodder."

Harry smiled at her resolve, a flicker of admiration shimmering in his eyes. "You're right, Colette. We're artists first and foremost, creators of worlds and emotions."

Their shared conviction filled the car with a renewed sense of purpose, a quiet determination to reclaim their narrative from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. As they neared Colette's apartment building, Harry parked the car with a sense of finality.

"Thank you for tonight," Colette said sincerely, turning to face him with a genuine smile. "Even the chaos at the end, I truly enjoyed our conversation and dinner, it was really good."

Harry returned her smile warmly. "Likewise, Colette. We are more than just co-stars caught in a media frenzy."

As Colette opened the door to her apartment, the image of Harry in his Romeo costume flashed vividly across her mind. His appearance had been a perfect blend of vulnerability and valiance, his attire accentuating the expressive lines of his body as he moved with an almost ethereal grace on stage. The sheer, soft fabric of his shirt clung to him as if it were part of his own skin, and the way the stage lights had caught the highlights in his hair made him look like a figure from an old-world painting—romantic and heroic.

Inside her quiet apartment, everything seemed too still, too empty compared to the warmth of Harry's presence. She tossed her keys on the table absent-mindedly and moved towards her bedroom, her mind replaying their conversation in the car. His words echoed in her ears, blending with flashes of his smile and the intensity in his eyes when he spoke about their artistry. It was as if he'd stripped away all the glitz and scandal that so often cloaked their lives, revealing a raw, sincere connection between them.

Colette tried to settle into bed, pulling her covers close, but restlessness took over. Turning onto her back, she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts spiraling around Harry’s comforting arm around her shoulders earlier that night. She remembered how secure it felt, a protective circle that shut out the incessant flash of cameras and curious stares. The smell of his cologne, a subtle mix of bergamot and sandalwood—seemed to linger on her skin, transporting her back to their fleeting moments of privacy amidst the chaos.

The more she thought about him, the more details came flooding in. How his lips curved into a smile just before he laughed, how his eyes lit up when discussing a particularly passionate scene. Even the way he held himself during their performance—confident yet tender—seemed etched into her memory with surprising clarity.

A sigh escaped her lips as she turned again in bed, fluffing her pillow in vain search for comfort. The digital clock on her bedside table glowed 2:17 AM; time was slipping by slowly tonight. Every tick seemed to resonate within the quiet room, each one reminding her of Harry’s gentle demeanor and unspoken assurances.

Why was it so difficult to push these thoughts aside? Why did every tiny detail of him seem magnified tonight? Colette knew that sleep would be elusive as long as these memories danced through her head, a sweet torment but a torment nonetheless.

Realizing that fighting it was futile, she sat up and reached for a book from her nightstand. Perhaps diving into someone else’s fictional world could ease her back from hers filled with all too real emotions spurred by Harry. Yet as she flipped through page after page, Colette found herself reading without absorbing any words. Her mind was back with Harry, reliving each moment spent together that day.

Finally surrendering to the inexorable pull of those memories, Colette set the book aside and allowed herself to reminisce about every glance exchanged and every laugh shared with Harry until tiredness eventually claimed victory over turmoil—a bittersweet end to an evening that neither camera flashes nor gossip columns could ever truly capture.

As the first rays of morning light began to filter through her gauzy curtains, Colette felt a tentative peace settle over her. The unavoidable sunrise not only heralded a new day but also the unavoidable return to set where today's scenes awaited her—scenes that would force her to bridge the gap between reality and fiction, between Colette and Juliet, Harry and Romeo.

The day unfurled slowly, each moment stretching languidly as if aware of the weight it carried. Colette arrived on set, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against the cage of her ribs. The set was a meticulous recreation of Verona, the air perfumed with artificial blooms that lined the faux stone balconies. It was here, beneath a painstakingly crafted balcony, that she found Harry already immersed in his role, his eyes distant yet filled with an intense purpose.

As makeup artists fluttered around them like attentive sprites, dusting their faces with powder and painting their lips, the boundary between Harry and Romeo, Colette and Juliet blurred seamlessly. The director—a wiry man with a penchant for perfection—guided them through their positions with an authoritarian yet oddly paternal touch.

"Remember," he said, his voice low and urgent as if conveying a secret, "this kiss isn’t just about passion. It’s about discovery, wonderment. You’re unveiling layers of your soul to one another."

Taking their places, Harry extended his hand with a gallantry that could either be attributed to him or to Romeo—it was hard to tell at this juncture. As Colette placed her hand in his, their fingers tentatively entwining, she wondered if he felt the same electric surge that ran up her arm.

The cameras rolled silently, capturing every nuanced expression. Around them, the crew faded into obscurity; it was just Harry and Colette, Romeo and Juliet. As Harry spoke his lines—the words Shakespeare penned centuries ago—his voice wove around her heart like a tender vine. His gaze held hers captive and in that moment, under the watchful eyes of countless unseen spectators both present and future, fiction turned into a palpable reality.

With the gentlest of motions indicative of both apprehension and certainty, Harry drew closer. His breath mingled with hers—a sweet prelude to the imminent ballet of their lips. When their lips finally met in an embrace as old as time yet fresh like dew on morning leaves, there was a hush on set so profound that even the rustle of fabric seemed sacrilege.

The kiss deepened not out of direction but from an intrinsic need to explore the burgeoning emotion that had started off as an onscreen farce but had bloomed into something indefinably real. They existed in the breath between lines; in the silence between words—their world distilled into the small space between their intertwined fingers and mingling breaths.

As they parted—an infinity encapsulated in seconds—their gazes lingered longingly; not solely because the script demanded it but because their souls hesitated to disentangle.

"Cut!" The director's voice sliced through the thick curtain of emotion, abrupt yet not unkind.

Applause broke out among the crew, bringing Harry and Colette back from Verona to the soundstage. Yet something lingered in their shared glance, a spark that neither the stark lights of the studio nor the return to their own separate lives could dim. As they stepped away from each other, there was an awkward moment of hesitation, a mutual recognition of something undefined and new swirling between them.

The rest of the day passed in a daze of repeated scenes and whispered lines. Colette found herself more aware of Harry's presence, every look and every touch magnified under the scrutinizing lens of her newfound feelings. Off-camera, they joked and laughed, but there was an unspoken agreement in their smiles, a secret tucked away behind their lighthearted banter.

When filming wrapped for the day, Colette felt the exhaustion from emotional strain more than from physical demand. The carousel of her thoughts kept spinning as she drove home, the ghost of Harry’s touch lingering like a promise on her skin.

Back at her apartment, she knew she ought to eat something or perhaps review scripts for tomorrow's shoot. Instead, she found herself at her window, gazing out into the twilight cityscape, her mind replaying every encounter with Harry. It wasn't just their characters who had discovered new emotional landscapes; Colette feared she was standing on the precipice of a revelation herself.

Her phone rang, slicing through her silence. She hesitated before answering, half-hoping it was Harry. It was her agent instead.

"Colette! Todays news came in; you were absolutely sublime! Everyone’s buzzing about the chemistry between you and Harry," her agent enthused over the line. Though meant as praise, each word weighed heavy on her soul like stones filling her pockets.

"Thanks," Colette managed to say, her voice a mere whisper against the storm inside her. "That means a lot."

"Listen," her agent continued, oblivious to Colette's turmoil, "There’s talk already about future projects for you two—maybe even some endorsements together. This could be huge for your career."

Her career. Right. That’s what mattered. Yet as Colette ended the call and sat back against the soft cushions of her couch, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps this time, something else mattered more.

She finally allowed herself to consider the possibility that what was scripted for Romeo and Juliet might have woven itself into the fabric of reality for Harry and herself. Could life imitate art to such a degree? Or was it merely caught up in the whirlwind of creating something beautiful together?

The night deepened around Colette as she sat alone with her thoughts. She knew decisions lay ahead, decisions about how far she should let this potential off-screen relationship develop amidst their on-screen romance. Tonight though, she would allow herself one certainty: that in all her roles, both lived and acted, nothing had ever felt quite as dangerous or as genuine as whatever was unfolding with Harry.

The room dimmed further as the last strains of sunlight vanished, leaving only the flickering shadows cast by the streetlamps outside. Colette's mind, a whirlpool of longing and rationality, began to conjure vivid scenes of Harry reciting lines from their recent scenes. Each word, artfully delivered with his rich, emotive voice, seemed to echo through her now quiet apartment, filling the spaces between her scattered thoughts.

He had stood there on stage, beneath the opulent glow of the set lights, his eyes finding hers in the scripted moments that felt all too real. "But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Harry's voice had quivered slightly with a passion that transcended performance. Colette remembered how her heart had leapt at those words, how the scripted distance between them seemed to collapse in a singularity of shared emotion.

As Romeo, he had been impetuous yet earnest, his every motion weaving a spell of youthful ardor and desperate love. And now, alone, she let her mind replay those scenes—his beseeching gaze, his hands reaching not just for Juliet but for Colette herself. Could it be that each line he delivered was an arrow aimed directly at her heart? The balcony scene unfolded again in her thoughts: Harry's silhouette framed by the mock Verona backdrop they had on set. "With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls; For stony limits cannot hold love out," he had declared fervently.

Could stony limits hold her emotions at bay? Her career had always been a fortress of sorts—a necessity to keep vulnerability at bay. But Harry’s portrayal of Romeo dismantled her defenses brick by brick, not through sheer force but through the tender strength of shared vulnerability.

In her mind's eye, Colette wandered back to a moment during rehearsals when Harry had improvised—off-script yet profoundly resonant—speaking directly to her soul beyond the bounds of their characters. "And yet I wish but for the thing I have: My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite." How his eyes had held hers, unwavering!

The thought brought an unexpected tear to Colette's eye—a tear for the uncertain future, for the potential hardships they might face together or apart, but also a tear for the beauty of a connection that might just transcend the ephemeral world of acting.

Colette rose from the couch and moved towards her window. Gazing out into the starlit cityscape, she pondered over these newly tapped depths within her heart. Perhaps tomorrow she would make decisions with consequences she couldn't yet foresee. But tonight belonged to dreams and whispered lines—a night where Harry's recitations from Romeo and Juliet swirled around her heart like a sweet yet potent incantation. Tonight was not about contracts or cameras. It was about understanding that what they might share could be as profound and real as any love story ever penned—an ode not written by Shakespeare but lived by two hearts daring enough to explore it.

As the hours ticked by, the city outside her window slowly transformed. The glaring neon signs dimmed to a soft glow, and the relentless honking of cars turned into a distant murmur, as if even New York herself had decided to catch her breath. In that serene quietude, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional chirping of a late-night bird, Colette's mind kept returning to Harry—to his eyes, his voice, his surprisingly delicate touch on stage.

She tried reading a book, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes as her thoughts danced back to those moments onstage when the air between them seemed charged with an electric intensity. It was in those moments when Harry's voice would deepen just so, casting out lines like spells that wrapped around her heart, binding it inexplicably to him.

Restlessness finally got the better of Colette. With a sigh, she set aside her book and picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over Harry's contact—for a moment she hesitated—but then, driven by an impulse she neither questioned nor understood fully, she pressed call.

The phone rang briefly before Harry's familiar voice filled the line. "Colette? Is everything alright?"

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed softly, the words feeling both foolish and necessary.

There was a pause—a thoughtful silence—and then Harry’s voice came again, quietly intense. "Come over, then. I’ve been trying to distract myself with scripts and lyrics, but it seems tonight is bent on being restless."

A small smile touched her lips; relief washed through her in gentle waves. "Give me twenty minutes?"

"Take your time," he replied with such warmth that it felt like a hug through the phone.

When Colette arrived at Harry’s apartment—a modest yet cozy space filled with stacks of books and paintings that spilled from every corner—she found him sitting on the balcony overlooking the twinkling skyline. He had two cups of tea steaming gently on a small table between them.

As she stepped out onto the balcony, he rose to greet her with an ease that belied his earlier restlessness. They didn’t speak much initially; words seemed superfluous as they sipped their tea and let the city’s nocturnal symphony envelop them.

It was only after both cups were emptied that Harry spoke again, his voice soft but clear against the backdrop of whispering winds. "You know," he began hesitantly, "tonight reminds me of our final act last week—the way Juliet looks at Romeo with such... such unguarded hope.”

"Yes," Colette whispered back, feeling that familiar pull in her chest—the inexplicable connection that seemed to thrive in shared silences and stolen glances rather than grand declarations.

"Sometimes," Harry continued, turning to face her more fully now, "I wonder whether we’re more than just actors playing parts—whether some scenes bleed into reality without us even noticing."

Colette reached out then, touching his hand lightly. "Maybe they do," she said simply. And for a long while after that, they sat there together—two figures etched against a sprawling cityscape—finding solace in each other's presence and in the quiet conviction that tonight was not merely about roles or rehearsals; it was about discovering truths hidden within lines delivered.

As the night deepened and the city's sounds ebbed into a lulling quiet, the conversation between Harry and Colette drifted from their characters' tragic romance to their own realities—careers that were as dazzling as they were demanding, personal lives constantly scrutinized by the public eye, and futures uncertain but full of potential.

"Sometimes I think about stepping away," Harry admitted, his gaze locked on the distant lights. "From the music, from the films—just to see who I am when the lights go off."

Colette nodded. The vulnerability in his voice resonated with her own unspoken fears. "It's as though we're constantly wearing masks, isn't it? Onstage or off, it's hard to tell where the character ends and where we begin."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Tonight though, being here with you—it feels real. No scripts, no audience." His eyes met hers with an intensity that sent a shiver through her.

She smiled, feeling a sense of kinship forge deeper between them. "No masks," she whispered.

They sat for a moment in silence, each lost in contemplation of the rare simplicity this evening had brought them—a stark contrast to their everyday chaos. Harry eventually stood up, stretching his arms towards the starry sky before offering his hand to her. "Come on, let’s take a walk. The night’s too beautiful to spend it all sitting down."

Reluctantly leaving their secluded spot, they wandered down quiet streets lined with barely lit cafes and closed bookstores, their steps synchronized in comfortable silence. Every so often, Harry would point out an old theater or a quaint little art gallery he’d visited during his tours. Colette listened intently, her heart swelling with an affection that was new and yet profoundly familiar.

As they turned back towards Harry's apartment, he stopped suddenly under a streetlamp’s soft glow. "I haven't felt this... peaceful in months," he confessed, looking at her with an earnestness that made her heart skip.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Neither have I," she said. "It’s easy to forget what quiet feels like when your life is full of noise."

Harry nodded, his gaze lingering on her face as if memorizing every detail. "Do you think it's possible? To find peace amidst all the turmoil?"

"I think," she started, pausing to gather her thoughts under his attentive gaze, "it's about finding the right person to share in those quiet moments—the ones who hear the music in your silences."

A warm smile spread across Harry's face as he drew her closer. Underneath that streetlamp, amid the sleeping city and beneath an audience of stars, they found a momentary escape—not as Romeo and Juliet caught in Shakespearean tragedy nor as celebrities shadowed by fames relentless spotlight—but simply as Harry and Colette discovering solace within each other's company.

As they slowly headed back to his apartment, hands entwined with silent promises of more shared nights like this one, both understood that while their careers might pull them in different directions come morning, tonight was theirs—a night marked not by dialogues written by playwrights long gone but by honest words exchanged between two souls navigating through life’s vast stage together.

She felt the warmth of his hand in hers, the roughness of his skin against her own soft palm, sending shivers down her spine. She looked up at him, taking in the way he moved, so confident and yet so gentle at the same time. Colette couldn't help but feel safe in his presence. The sound of their footsteps echoed on the empty sidewalk, mixing with the distant hum of traffic and occasional howl of a lonesome siren. As they turned into an alleyway, she breathed in the scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, mingling with the stale smoke from a cigarette butt left behind by some passerby. The stars above twinkled like diamonds scattered across a midnight sky, their light guiding them home.

They walked hand in hand beneath the glow of the streetlamp, casting shadows on the brick wall behind them as they stepped forward. The rhythm of their stride became synced, almost like they were dancing to an unknown melody. Every now and then, Harry would point out constellations he recognized or make up stories about the ones he didn't, his voice deep and soothing like velvet caressing her ears. His laughter rang out when she teased him about his astronomical knowledge—or lack thereof—and she loved how genuine it sounded despite everything that surrounded them.

Colette paused for a moment to look at a painting on an old doorstep; it was beautifully executed yet marred by graffiti tags that told stories of love lost and hearts broken. Harry stood beside her, looking over her shoulder as if seeing it for the first time too. She noticed how his presence made even this decrepit alleyway seem somehow beautiful.

They continued walking, their steps echoing softly against the pavement as they neared Harry's apartment building. As they reached the front door, he stopped and with a flourish produced a set of keys from his jeans pocket. The metal jangled softly against each other as he unlocked it, and then they stepped inside out of the cool night air into the warmth of his cozy living room. Setting down her purse, Colette looked around at the familiar surroundings - the worn sofa, the bookshelf filled with favorite novels and framed photographs from past adventures, and the unlit fireplace waiting for winter evenings. The musty smell of old books mingled with freshly brewed coffee drifting from the kitchenette.

"Well," Harry began as he shut the door behind them, "I guess this is where our little adventure ends."

Colette's heart sank at his words but she forced a smile anyway. "Yeah... it was fun while it lasted."

"It always is," he agreed quietly, moving towards her and giving her one last hug before gently pushing her towards the door. "You should get some sleep though, early morning meeting tomorrow."

With one final wave goodnight, Colette slipped through the door and into the hallway, hearing it click shut behind her. Outside on the sidewalk, she took a deep breath of the cool night air and felt a slight shiver run down her spine as reality came crashing back in - work in the morning with its emails and deadlines and office politics. But for now, she allowed herself to linger on the memory of their night together: The taste of wine on her tongue still lingering; the soft buzz from alcohol fading; Harry's touch still lingering on her skin like tiny electric shocks.

As Colette closed the door behind her, she could hear the familiar clicking sound filling her with a sense of finality. The night air was crisp against her skin, carrying with it a chill that sent shivers down her spine as she took in deep breaths of the city outside. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the evening; it had been an unforgettable journey into a world she never imagined existed. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and now she found herself standing on the sidewalk once more, back in reality. The neon lights from nearby stores cast an artificial glow upon the pavement as she stepped away from Harry's cozy apartment and began to walk towards home. The sound of footsteps echoed on concrete as cars honked their horns in the distance, creating a symphony of urban noise that surrounded her.

She could still feel Harry's embrace pressing against her back as if he were wrapping his arms around hers again, sending tingles up and down her spine with each step she took away from him. She could still taste the sweetness of red wine dancing on her tongue - its tartness mixing with the lingering taste of their passionate kisses as if it were a bitter-sweet symphony only they shared. She let out a soft sigh and looked up at the starry sky above; the sight always managed to calm her nerves but tonight it only served as a reminder that their time together was over.

The streets were empty save for a few late-night stragglers making their way home from parties or bars, their laughter and music fading into nothingness as Colette walked further down the block. A soft breeze rustled through trees lining the sidewalk, leaves whispering secrets only they knew while carrying with them.

Once Colette made it home she brushed her teeth and went into her cozy bed wrapped around in her favorite cotton pajamas, snuggling deep into the softness of her sheets. She reached over to her phone on the bedside table and saw Harry's name still glowing on the screen. A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered their last goodbye

As she drifted off, Colette imagines walking through Central Park once more. The crisp air rustled through trees, carrying with it the scent of autumn - earthy and musky. She could hear the sound of leaves crunching underfoot and see birds flitting from branch to branch overhead. They sat together on a bench, leaning against one another as they watched nature's greatest show for free. He held her hand closely, lacing fingers between hers as if they were always meant to be entwined like that. And then she felt a drop of rain on her nose, followed by another one on her cheek. They both laughed as they ran hand in hand towards his apartment; their shoes splashing through puddles left behind by an unexpected shower that cloud-covered sky promised earlier in the day.

Colette woke up with that same coolness brushing against her face but found herself alone in bed instead of curled up with Harry. The memory lingered like a fond dream but faded away with each blink until all that was left was reality.

Colette got ready and made her way over to the studio, today was the last day of scenes, and the scene where Romeo and Juliet meet their demise.

As she entered the bustling set, the weight of the final day pressed on her shoulders like a heavy curtain about to fall for the last time. The air was thick with a mix of excitement and melancholy, as everyone from the crew to the cast moved with a purposeful urgency, aware that this chapter was closing. Colette brushed past the props and costume racks, her mind still tangled in thoughts of Harry and the night that they had spent wrapped in each other’s company.

She found herself in front of her dressing room mirror, staring at her own reflection as she slipped into Juliet's intricate gown. Each layer of fabric seemed to wrap her tighter, not just in character but also in the realization that soon she would have to strip away this identity that had become a second skin over months of filming.

"Knock knock," came a familiar voice from the door. It was Harry, leaning against the frame with that charming smile that always seemed to disarm her.

"Hey," Colette replied, her heart skipping a beat. "Ready for the grand finale?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry said, stepping inside and helping adjust a loose strand of her hair. "It’s surreal, isn’t it? Feels like just yesterday we were stumbling through our first lines together and today we die together."

Colette nodded, feeling the corners of her eyes moisten. "I'm going to miss us—this."

Harry took her hand gently, squeezing it reassuringly. "The end of one story, Colette. Not the end of everything."

Together, they walked onto the set where the final scene awaited them—a beautifully tragic conclusion to Shakespeare’s timeless tale. The set was a somber array of shadows and light, perfectly crafting an ambiance befitting their last moment as Romeo and Juliet.

As they stepped into their marks, silence enveloped the set. The director called for quiet on set and slowly, every surrounding noise dulled into obscurity until there was nothing but the fictional world they were anchored in.

"Action!" came the resolute call.

The scene unfolded with an intensity that mirrored the raw emotions both Harry and Colette felt. They delivered their lines with a palpable passion, their voices laced with the poignant realization of both the characters' and their own impending separation. As Romeo, Harry took a vial of poison, his hands trembling slightly—a detail that added a layer of desperate realism to his performance. Colette, as Juliet, lay motionless on the stone-cold crypt, her chest rising and falling subtly, awaiting her final cue.

When it came time for Juliet to awaken, Colette's eyes fluttered open to meet Harry's gaze one last time. The sorrow in his eyes was reflected in hers; no longer just acting, they were living their characters' tragedy. As she spoke her last lines, a tear escaped down her cheek, blurring the boundary between performance and reality.

The potent mix of fiction and their personal goodbye charged through their final kiss, drawing a silent gasp from the crew around them. As Juliet drove Romeo's dagger into her chest, Colette collapsed beside Harry with a grace that spoke volumes of the artistry she had poured into her role.

For a few heartbeats after the director called "Cut!" nobody moved. The echo of their lines lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of finality. It was only when the applause broke out that Harry and Colette were pulled back from Verona to the stark reality of the studio set.

Still lying beside each other on the cold ground of the set crypt, they turned to look at each other one last time. The clapping around them faded into a distant murmur as Harry reached out to brush away another tear from Colette’s cheek.

“That was...” Harry started but seemed unable to find the right words.

“Beautiful,” Colette finished for him, her voice barely above a whisper. “And absolutely fucking heartbreaking.”

They helped each other up and took a bow to the crew whose cheers had now filled up space like light flooding into dark corners. It was over — their journey as star-crossed lovers had come to an end on screen.

Just then, the director, a tall figure with a rumpled look that spoke of endless days and sleepless nights, stepped into the circle of light. He adjusted his glasses, looking from Harry to Colette with an expression torn between admiration and the perpetual dissatisfaction of a perfectionist.

"Truly magnificent," he pronounced, though his voice carried a but that hung in the air unspoken. The crew quieted, sensing there was more to come. "However," he continued, casting a quick glance at the cameraman who nodded sheepishly, "we had a slight glitch with the lighting. One of our key lights flickered out right at the crucial moment."

A collective sigh rippled through the team, mixed with a few suppressed groans. Yet no one protested— they all knew the importance of getting it just right.

"We need to go for another take," the director declared firmly. The disappointment was palpable, but so was the resolve to perfect the art they were all crafting together.

Harry and Colette exchanged a look of weary determination. Without a word, they moved back to their starting positions beside the stone altar that served as Juliet's final resting place.

As the crew reset their equipment, Harry glanced around at the towering set pieces that recreated Verona's gothic splendor. Artificial moonlight streamed through stained glass windows crafted from gel and plastic but beautiful nonetheless. Shadows danced along walls textured to look like ancient stone, casting eerie patterns that whispered of old secrets and timeless tragedies.

Colette smoothed her velvet gown—a rich crimson that pooled around her like spilled wine—and repositioned her hairpiece, tucking a stray lock behind her ear before she lay down once more on the cold faux-marble slab.

The props master darted forward to adjust the placement of the dagger—a replica so finely crafted it seemed as sharp as truth itself—before scurrying away as silently as he had arrived.

"Places everyone!" called the assistant director, a sprightly woman whose energy seemed inexhaustible. Her voice cut through the murmured conversations and last-minute adjustments, snapping everyone back to attention.

As silence reclaimed the set, encapsulating it in a tense bubble of anticipation, the director looked over his tableau one last time. Satisfied, he lifted his hand high then brought it down sharply.

"And... action!"

In a haunting moment, Colette delved deeper into her character, her eyes brimming with an unfathomable anguish originating not in physical torment but in the profound intertwining of loss and love. As she enacted plunging the steel through heart and bone with tragic precision, Harry’s response mirrored her intensity—his visage a masterful portrayal of despair and utter helplessness.

Silently, the cameras rolled, capturing each subtle nuance: the taut muscles beneath Juliet's delicate makeup; Romeo's trembling fingertips reaching across unseen barriers; Colette's quivering shoulders as she drew breaths heavy with sorrow. When she crumpled beside Harry once more, her descent seemed like a graceful surrender—a fragile leaf succumbing to its inevitable fall.

The seconds stretched endlessly until once again the director called out "Cut!" His voice broke through Colette’s final shuddering breaths and this time when he spoke there was no hiding his satisfaction. "Perfect," he said simply, nodding with fervor.

The applause that erupted was spontaneous and heartfelt, echoing around the cavernous studio like waves crashing against a shore. Crew members wiped away tears, caught in the emotional riptide of the scene they had just witnessed.

Harry and Colette, still entangled on the ground, finally allowed themselves a small smile—exhausted, relieved, and a little incredulous at the magic they had managed to recreate. As they stood up, their faces glistening with sweat and theatrical tears, they were enveloped in a series of eager hugs and congratulations from everyone around them.

The makeup artists hurried over with their kits ready to do touch-ups, but for a moment nobody touched Harry or Colette; it was as if their looks were sacred, perfectly capturing the essence of the poignant tragedy they had just embodied. The director approached them, clapping Harry on the back and kissing Colette on both cheeks.

"I couldn't have asked for more," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You both brought Juliet and Romeo to life in a way I never could have envisioned when we first started this project."

Harry, catching his breath, nodded appreciatively. "It felt right," he admitted, looking down at his costume, stained with artificial blood that somehow felt all too real at that moment.

Colette brushed a tear from her cheek and laughed lightly. "I think I'm going to miss her," she confessed, referring to Juliet. "It's strange how a character can become a part of you."

As they made their way off the set, passing through the constructed archways and past the fabricated stone tombs, there was a collective sense of completion but also of loss; the world they had created was temporary, its dissolution inevitable now that the film was wrapped.

The wrap party later that evening was a lively affair held at a local venue adorned with replicas of props and costumes from the film. The mood was buoyant yet bittersweet as cast and crew mingled, sharing memories from months of hard work.

Colette found herself standing by a balcony overlooking the city lights, a glass of champagne in hand. Harry joined her soon after.

"It's going to be odd not seeing everyone tomorrow," he said, leaning against the railing beside her.

"Yeah," Colette agreed softly. "It's like saying goodbye to family."

They sipped their drinks in companionable silence for a moment before Harry spoke up again.

"What’s next for you?" he asked curiously.

Colette shrugged slightly. "A few scripts to read; maybe some time off. And you?"

"Same," Harry replied. "Though it'll be hard to top this experience."

They smiled at each other, sharing an unspoken acknowledgement of the journey they had shared. The night grew deeper around them as words gave way to shared glances and laughter from inside reached their ears—a soundtrack to endings and new beginnings alike.

“Why don’t we get out of here, go to my place for a while.” Harry said while looking over at Colette.

Colette glanced up at the stars twinkling above, considering his invitation. A gentle breeze ruffled her hair, bringing with it the distant sounds of celebration from inside. It felt like the perfect end to an intense and transformative day.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied with a smile that matched the lightness in her heart.

They excused themselves from the party, slipping away unnoticed among the throngs of well-wishers and fellow revelers. The city's streets were quiet as they walked side by side, their footsteps syncing in a comfortable rhythm.

Arriving at Harry's place, he unlocked the door and let them into his warmly lit apartment. Colette really examined the place. The space was tastefully decorated with various mementos from his travels and projects, each piece telling a story of its own. Colette wandered over to a shelf displaying several old cameras and script binders.

"This place has character," she commented, picking up a vintage camera and examining it closely.

"Thanks," Harry said as he went to fix them some drinks in the kitchen. "It's my little sanctuary away from all the chaos."

Returning with two glasses of wine, he joined her by a large window overlooking the cityscape. They talked for hours about everything—from their fears and dreams to trivial stories from set—each conversation thread drawing them closer, weaving a new layer into their friendship.

As dawn hinted at its arrival with a soft glow on the horizon, Harry poured them each another glass of wine. "To new beginnings?" he proposed, raising his glass slightly.

"To new beginnings," Colette echoed, clinking her glass against his. They sipped their wine in serene silence, watching as the city slowly came to life.

Harry's heart raced as he leaned in closer to Colette, his breath hot against her ear. "I have to do this," he whispered urgently, desperation lacing his words. Colette's eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded, giving him permission to continue. And with that, Harry pressed his lips hungrily against hers, pouring all of his pent-up desire and longing into the passionate kiss. Electricity crackled between them as their bodies molded together, fueling the intensity of their connection. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the taste of each other on their lips and the overwhelming need driving them both.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we filmed that scene.”

Colette's breath hitched at Harry’s admission. "That scene?" she inquired, her voice trembling with a heady cocktail of nerves and anticipation. He traced his thumb across the contour of her lips, nodding before reclaiming them with a renewed intensity that left no room for doubt.

"That damn scene," he murmured against the luscious curve of her mouth, his hot whispers making her shiver in response. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer so she could feel every hard inch of him against the softness of her body.

Colette's heart pounded in her chest as Harry's thumb traced the contours of her lips, her eyes fluttering closed at the feeling. His hot whispers sent shivers down her spine, and she couldn't help but arch into him, seeking more contact.

"That scene," he murmured against her skin, his voice thick with desire, "made me want you even more." With that, he claimed her lips once again, his tongue diving deep into her mouth as his hands found their way up underneath her shirt. She moaned into the kiss, feeling his calloused fingertips brush against the underside of her breasts.

His touch sent electric shockwaves through her body, making every nerve ending tingle with anticipation. She whimpered softly against his mouth, clutching at his shoulders as he teased her nipples through her bra. "Harry," she gasped out between ragged breaths, her voice barely a whisper.

He pulled back slightly to look down at her flushed face. "Tell me you want this," he growled lowly, eyes dark and intense as they bore into hers. Colette swallowed hard before nodding frantically. "I do," she whispered back in a voice that shook with need.

Without further hesitation, Harry scooped Colette up into his strong arms and carried her over to the nearby bed. He set her down gently before kneeling down between her spread legs and gazing up at her with a hungry glint in his eyes. "You are so so fucking beautiful," he murmured approvingly as he ran his roughened hands up along the insides of her thighs until they reached their final destination: the lace-covered mound of between them.

Groaning lowly, Harry pressed his fingers against the damp material covering Colette's core and pushed them through the fabric to slide along her wet folds. She cried out softly as sensations she hadn't felt since that fateful day on set washed over her once again—sensations that only seemed to intensify now that they were alone together like this .

Harry's fingers slid deeper into Colette's wet folds, finding her swollen clit and circling it gently. She moaned loudly, arching her back as the sensations overwhelmed her. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with desire.

"Oh god yes," she whimpered, her eyes fluttering closed. "Please, Harry. I need you."

He pulled his fingers away from her core and stood up, pulling her with him. She stumbled to her feet, feeling unsteady from the intense pleasure he'd just given her. He backed her up against the wall, their bodies flush from chest to thighs. His hard cock pressed against her stomach, making her even wetter.

"You are so pretty, love.," he murmured again, his lips brushing against hers in a featherlight kiss. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing her ass cheeks and pulling them apart to reveal her tight little hole. "I want you to feel every inch of me inside you."

Colette shuddered at his words, imagining how good it would feel to be filled up by him. She reached down between them and took hold of his cock through his pants, stroking it slowly as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Please," she whispered again.

Harry groaned deeply and grabbed hold of her wrists, lifting them above her head and pinning them against the wall next to her head. His other hand slid down between their bodies once more, pushing aside the fabric of their clothes until he could position his cockhead at her entrance. He looked into her eyes for permission before thrusting forward powerfully into her tight heat.

She cried out in shock and pleasure as he filled her completely in one swift motion. He began to move inside her slowly at first, watching as she adjusted to his size. But soon enough he picked up speed, slamming into her over and over again with a roughness that made Colette's legs shake uncontrollably beneath him."Fuck yes!" she screamed breathlessly as he took control of their coupling completely."

She could feel every inch of him, stretching and filling her while also leaving her wanting more. His grip on her waist tightened as he picked up speed, slamming into her so hard that the bed shook beneath them.

"You like that?" he growled, his voice hoarse with lust.

"God yes!" she moaned back, arching her back to meet each of his thrusts. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him, unable to resist the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body. He reached down between them and rubbed circles around her clit with his fingers, sending shudders of delight through her entire being.

"You're so fucking tight," he grunted, leaning down to capture one of her nipples in his mouth and sucking hard. The sensation sent electric shocks straight to her groin, making her even wetter for him. She cried out his name as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside her, causing an explosive wave of pleasure that left her breathless.

Colette found herself begging for release as he continued to thrust into her unmercifully. "Please... I need you to cum with me!" She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the brink but didn't want it without him by her side. In response, he picked up the pace even more, driving deeper than ever before as they both neared their climaxes together.

Their bodies moved in a frantic rhythm, the sound of their heavy breathing and the soft thuds of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. Colette felt the coil of tension winding tighter and tighter within her, her entire being focused on the overwhelming sensations Harry was eliciting from her.

Just as she thought she could take no more, Harry’s movements became even more purposeful, his strokes deepening, each pushing her further towards that edge. His mouth left her nipple with a wet pop, traveling up her neck, leaving a trail of kisses until he reached her ear. His hot breath against her ear sent another shiver down her spine as he whispered, "Let go for me, love. I’ve got you."

And with those words, Colette felt the dam break. A powerful orgasm washed over her, waves of pleasure pulsating through her as she cried out his name, her body trembling uncontrollably. Harry followed soon after, his own climax overtaking him with a groan as he buried his face in her neck, his body shuddering against hers.

As they both regained their breath, Harry slowly pulled back to look at Colette, his eyes soft now with a tender glow. Gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before easing out of her and helping her lay down on the bed. He lay beside her, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up in his warmth.

They lay there in silence for a moment, neither needing words to express what had just transpired between them. Finally, Colette turned to look at him, a shy smile playing on her lips. “That was…” she started but seemed lost for words.

“Everything,” Harry finished for her, smiling back. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear gently. “You were everything, my Juliet.”

Colette snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace wash over her. What had started as an undeniable attraction had blossomed into something far deeper in these moments alone together. They both knew that what was happening between them wasn’t just fleeting passion; it was something that might just redefine their understanding of connection and desire.

As the night deepened, outside the confines of their intimate world, the city's sounds blended into a distant hum, almost like a lullaby meant to soothe them in their post-climactic serenity. Harry lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Colette's breathing against him, his thoughts meandering through the events that had led to this moment.

After what felt like an eternity bathed in silence and warmth, Colette stirred slightly, breaking the magical spell that had enveloped them. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mix of wonder and a hint of vulnerability. "Harry," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the quietude. "What does this mean for us? For tomorrow?"

Harry’s heart tightened at her words. Tomorrow. With their lives so deeply entrenched in public scrutiny and their careers always on the line, the weight of reality began to dawn on him. Yet looking into Colette's hopeful eyes, all he wanted was to delay those worries, to live in this bubble for as long as they could.

He brushed his lips against her forehead softly, choosing his words with care. "Let's not think about tomorrow yet," he murmured softly. "Tonight, it’s just you and me. No labels, no expectations. Just... us."

Colette nodded slowly, nestling back into his chest. "Just us," she echoed, allowing herself to be enveloped by the warmth of his promise.

They stayed like that for a while longer until sleep began to claim them, their bodies entwined in a quiet promise of the now with thoughts of tomorrow held at bay.

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