#mission boutique

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso

note. super self indulgent once again woopsies

tags. jjk men x female reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.

even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.

“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t wish to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.

his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.

at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the sorcerer giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute. especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.

“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.

satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act. he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”

when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”

before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.

“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.

“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”

to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.

“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.

you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.

thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.

“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.

he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.

to kiss and hold you close.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.

“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.

the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.

“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.

“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.

you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.

you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.

. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.

“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎

“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.

you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”

“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”

you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.

“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.

you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least

choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”

#sttoru writes. #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #toji x reader #nanami x reader #choso x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo fluff #nanami fluff #choso fluff #toji fluff

[jaideepkhanduja]

Top 10 Shopping Destinations for a Spree in San Francisco

San Francisco is renowned for its eclectic shopping scene, which caters to every style and budget. From high-end boutiques to trendy thrift stores, the city has something for everyone. Whether you are in search of designer clothes, vintage finds, or unique souvenirs, San Francisco is a paradise for shoppers. Here are some of the best places for a shopping spree in the city. Union Square:…

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#Boutiques #Chinatown #Ferry Building Marketplace #Fillmore District #Ghirardelli Square #Haight-Ashbury #Hayes Valley #San Francisco #Shopping #The Mission #Union Square

[otto-s-alskling]

TF141 X Fem!Reader

"Dress Up"

Shopping for disguises is something that the Taskforce sometimes dreads and sometimes are excited about. But when the mission called for having you dressed up for the supposed Gala that you are all to attend to, they immediately scrambled to the nearest boutique to find the best gown for you.

The four men sat at the dress boutique, an odd bunch as the sales lady assisting you was inside the changing room to help with the lacing and fixing up the dress. So far, the picks have been good, none of them totally into it because some have been a

... Questionable.

Soap chose a dark navy blue dress that showed so much of your back, which in return immediately got him hit on the back of his head by Ghost.

Gaz chose a rose colored dress but the slit reached almost your hip and Price couldn't have shoved you back in the changing stall so fast to hide you.

Price chose a red dress, a quite regal looking one that's a halter neckline and a glittery mermaid style that got a few appreciative nods.

Ghost, however, picked something that no one else expected him to ever choose. It wasn't goofy or ugly or anything. Quite the opposite.

You stepped out the changing stall, blushing, as you stared at the mirrors and the men all froze, especially Ghost. The three immediately looked at the masked man before looking at you again and they all sported a red shade on their cheeks and ears, refusing to look away from you.

Ghost chose a dress with sweetheart neckline, slightly fitted at the top with a sparkly plain skirt. Nothing too flared or anything but still gorgeous on you. Was even nice enough to get you a silver belt too. The fucking color of the dress? White.

Ghost picked a wedding dress for you to try on.

Imagination ran wild between the men before you cleared your throat. "I don't think I'll wear this one... Cause..." Your voice trailed off when they didn't even move a muscle, just busy gazing at you.

Nobody answered for a moment before Price clears his throat. "That uhm... Looks great, love but not for this occasion. I think we should get the halter one. You pick the color."

I nodded and went to the sales lady, leaving the men in awe at what they just saw. Ghost looked at Soap who was grinning as he held up his phone. Sneaky Scottish bastard managed to take pictures and Gaz immediately requested for a few copies, making Price chuckle.

Secured with the dark blue version of the halter dress and the same silver belt that Ghost picked, the team headed out of the boutique.

•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•

Ghost went back the next day, and bought the dress he picked and a veil himself,gazing at his new phone wallpaper of you in the very same dress. You never know when you might need it ;3

#call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #tf 141 #task force 141 #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #captain john price #john soap mactavish #john price #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #gaz x reader #gaz x you #price x reader #captain price #price #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod mw2

[ceilidho]

prompt: im also thinking of a very bad fic where ghost is taken pow for awhile and it fucks him up and he’s forced to see a therapist when he’s rescued but he’d rather use her p[] as therapy instead. tags: nsfw, implied/not described violence, slight dubcon, unprofessional relationship lol

-

It isn’t serendipitous that you meet; it comes because of a lot of bad luck and malevolence. 

He’s captured during a routine surveillance mission and spends three months as a POW in some shed in the Ural mountains. He comes back different. That’s to be expected. Trauma is an insidious thing that takes root under the skin, that twists and turns even in the dead of night. It’s a tunnel that gets tighter as you walk through it. It would be concerning if he didn’t come back that way. 

You know far too many gory details to ever feel truly comfortable around him. Not because of anything he’s done but because you can’t help the way the narrative builds in your mind when you look across the room at him. Even sitting on the prim and proper little sectional in your office, his body too big for the cozy little couch you picked up from some upscale boutique with your government paycheck, you can’t help but mythologize him. 

The official story is that four men were found dead when Simon Riley was finally extracted from the shed-turned-torture-room six months ago due to a bacterial infection that, luckily, Simon was not exposed to. The story’s flimsy even to your untrained ears; you may not have gone to medical school, but it just seems too perfect, too impeccable. When you push your superior for the truth, the look you get and the quiet “leave it alone” tells you far more than your paygrade deserves. 

Even knowing what you know, he shows up day one with the skull balaclava like some bone fortress that tells you before you even try, I am unknowable. You can try to cut me up and look inside, but this is all you’ll find—bone and bone and more bone.

He’s remarkably resistant to therapy, which is also to be expected; you aren’t at the stage in your career where you’re surprised that a man entrenched in the machinery of militarism won’t acquiesce to talk therapy. 

There’s a point where you want to try a new tactic, something to get to the root of what he’s hiding from you. So, you poke at it. You ask him to give you a five-minute account of the traumatic event, something that took place in the shed. 

“Which of those events do you dislike thinking about the most?” Your pen is poised over the pad in your lap. 

He raises a brow so high up that it disappears behind the mask. “How could I pick just one?”

His voice rumbles like tires over gravel. Sometimes your leg jitters when he speaks and it’s not your fault. You shut it down though because this is not a legend in front of you but a man, and you are in this room with him for a very specific purpose that does not include finding the sound of his voice attractive. 

You ask him again: “Which comes to mind first?”

Simon doesn’t answer you, but there’s a flash like quicksilver across his eyes and you catch it not because you’re looking but because he lets you. 

He shifts forward in his chair so that his elbows are propped on his knees and he’s leaning forward, closer to you than you’re comfortable with. You didn’t think to put a coffee table between the two of you. With other vets and active personnel, it’s easier without the sense of distance; makes them feel closer to you, vulnerable because it’s just skin, oxygen, and skin. 

With Simon, you get the sense that distance might be better. 

“What comes to mind first is that it was dark and I could smell the blood. I could taste it. But I couldn’t see it.” He doesn’t blink for as long as he speaks. You try not to let your breath shorten; you feel hungry for his truth the way a wolf hungers for the moon. “And it was dark and I could smell it; it was in my throat because I knew it was the only way out of there. I realized in that room that there is no righteous path but the one you take.”

Simon leans so far forward that his body glides up to stand and the pencil trembles in your hand when he takes a step close. He’s bigger looming over you, all brawn in the way military men often are, but sleek in his movements. You think of snakes or panthers. 

He breathes in. “You smell good though, love. Do you think we could start there instead?”

You open your mouth to reply, maybe even tell him to sit down so you can approach the question from a different angle, but then he’s on you, quick as he must have been that night. One big callused hand over your mouth and one knee on the couch, his other hand reaching up to pull the mask below his nose. You feel the warm press of it into the side of your neck and try not to struggle.

His breath shudders across your skin. You shake because you feel all the bone hidden beneath his frame now.

Simon’s hand is rough when it slides up your shirt. Pretty pearl buttons go flying; one rolls under the prim and proper couch. You only struggle for the first couple of seconds before professionalism melts away like a fine mist. Like you can do anything but look at him like a revelation. You stare at the pearl beneath the couch when he fucks you, legs split around his waist and you know it’s going to hurt in the morning. 

“If I’d known that you were waiting for me while I was in there,” he breathes, sonorous and rich, mask rolled up over lips bisected by a puckered scar, “I would have torn out their throats much more eagerly.”

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod simon riley #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost/reader #ghost cod #ceil writing #cod modern warfare

[sophiamarieispinkbunny-chan]

Forger Fam and WISE Budget😅

Sylvia’s current concern according to Endo: Balancing WISE Budget

I mean how couldn’t she be concerned when maintaining Strix is so financially consuming.

I mean look at all the expenses the Forger family has made in less than a year:

1.Anya’s tuition that costs about $35,000 to $40,000, and that doesn’t include the uniform and school supplies.

2.Anya’s clothes and she seemed to have new clothes regularly and Endo said these are mostly bought by Loid/Twilight.

3.That castle rent that costs more than $77 000 and added the other check, I'm guessing for the furniture they used, that costs $17 600. (Yes, it costs more than Anya's tuition fee, I mean it's a castle 😂)

4.Loid could also not just be purchasing clothes for Anya. It looks like he also pays for Yor’s wardrobe and Yor mentioned that he got so many clothes for her in the boutique before the Eden Interview.

5.Loid is also the one who pays for their dates, seems like, and his dates with Yor doesn’t seem cheap at all, they seem to dine at fancy restaurants that require reservation.

6.The big heap of cash he pays Franky every time he babysits Anya and Bond.

And here it looks like the check his giving Franky costs 20,000 dalcs that is equivalent to $44,000 (one dalc is quivalent to $2.20). It's even more expensive than Anya's tuition, what?! 😂😂 (Twilight is literally willing to spend a lot money just to be sure that Anya won't be home alone ever again, he's not taking a chance on her being kidnapped again when he left her alone on ep1)

7.Loid didn’t seem to also hold back in spending a good amount of money for their apartments furniture and for Anya’s bedroom and even bought her a lot of toys and picture books.

8.And of course their out of town/out of the country family trips featured in the Code White movie. Those must’ve cost a lot considering they have to book a hotel and all. And according to a movie spoiler from tiktok, that wasn’t the last time they went on a family out of town trip.

Loid Forger does have a high paying profession. However, according to Endo, his earnings as a psychiatrist were only about $140,000 per year, not per month, PER YEAR. How could he cover that much expenses? Of course WISE covers the rest if it was crucial to the mission, or when Twilight insists it to be. I mean he always says that everything he does is for his mission so the one who has to pay was the one who gave him that mission.

(Most of these expenses didn't even contribute to the progress of Operation Strix. It just funds Twilight into sinking deeper into his fake fam and keeps the family even more attached to each other😂)

Endo said WISE is not really generous when it comes to paying their agents but they seem to be lenient on spending their money on the Forgers. I mean they have to invest for their Top Spy's family and World Peace do depend on them.

So Twilight, pile the bills and let Sylvia handle the rest😂

#spy x family #spy x family manga #spy x family anime #sxf anime #sxf manga #loid forger #twilight #yor forger #anya forger #sxf analysis #spy x family analysis #forger family #the forgers #WISE got money to burn #Endo did say that that Westalis is richer than Ostania #Poor Sylvia #I wonder how is she auditing all these expenses to the higher ups #It's for the mission so it's fine #sxf commentary #spy x family commentary

[die-pink-maus]

Some MORE Canon/Not So Canon König 💋Headcanons💋

(NSFW Included • MDNI)

AN: AGAIN, these are just my thoughts and opinions of what I imagine König would be like IRL. I have once again divided everything up into sections and there is a whole section dedicated to more NSFW headcanons, so PLEASE…MDNI this is for the grownups! There is great mention of the words “wife”, “girlfriend” and some GN terms such as “you” or “your”. I am mainly writing this from the perspective of a woman. I’ve also included an IRL photo inspo to help get those imaginative juices flowing 🤭

IRL Inspo: @Fabientietjen on Insta/Tiktok 

Likes, Reblogs, & Positive Comments Are Greatly Appreciated 🫶🏼

Enjoy! 💋

🪖Personality/Physical Appearance🪖

♡ TATTED. Definitely covered in tattoos, has the “my body is a temple so why not decorate it” mindset. All of his pieces are super unique to him and his experiences. Would more than likely get tattoos of his cats and his wife or GF so they’re always with him, especially when he is deployed. 

♡ Very direct and to the point, but doesn’t necessarily always mean it in a mean or condescending way, he’s just very blunt. A lot of the time it’s more funny than anything else.

♡ Listens to Austrian and German folk music while he cooks, boisterously singing along with a gigantic goofy grin on his face, and a kitchen towel draped over his broad shoulder. It reminds him of being a child, and cooking with his mom back home.

♡ Hunter gatherer type of man. Owns a home in rural Austria where he is able to grow and harvest his own crops and hunt game. Probably owns a couple of animals on his small farm as well, but not for food, they’re like his family.

♡ Has a bit of a love hate relationship with his birthday. Doesn’t mind celebrating, as he is very grateful to be alive, but also just isn’t really one for all the attention that usually comes with birthdays. He’s more than content with staying in, ordering takeout and having some alone time with you 😜

♡ Loves dressing like he’s from the early 1900s. In his defence, it’s suits the fuck outta him, and reeeeally adds to that gentlemanly, timeless charm he has 🤭

♡ Will start pointless debates over almost ANYTHING simply because he enjoys watching people get frustrated. He thinks that shit is hilarious and will often play devils advocate just to get a rise out of someone 😂

♡ Hyperfixated on all things comics. Has been collecting comic books since he was a teen and has developed quite the collection. 

♡ Big steak and potatoes kinda guy. Loves meat in general and probably isn’t afraid of eating the more undesirable parts of the animal, such as liver and gizzards.

♡ Huge on hygiene. Considering he’s spent quite a bit of time in some not so clean situations while being out in the fields on missions, being clean is something he’s become quite obsessed with now that he’s retired. More than likely because he doesn’t want to be reminded of his time in the military.

💗As a Boyfriend/Husband & Dad💗

♡ Adores taking you shopping, especially for lingerie. Will sometimes even request a private shopping session at your favourite boutique lingerie store so he can have you model a few pieces for him without interruption 😜

♡ Death stares at ANY MAN who even dares to look your way. He knows he has a bombshell on his arm, and there are many men who would kill to be in his position, but you’re his. He makes sure everyone is well aware of that.

♡ More than likely the type to opt for a small intimate proposal as opposed to something public and flashy. Would probably whisk his fiancé to be away to a beautiful tropical island, and propose to her during a lovely private dinner on the beach.

♡ Loves planning romantic vacations and getaways chalk full of excursions and activities he knows you’ll love.

♡ “I saw this at the mall on the way home and it made me think of you” type of man. He remembers practically everything about you.

♡ Teaches you how to shoot and takes you to the gun range at least once a month so you know how to protect yourself in case he ever needs to be away.

♡ Trains you in hand to hand combat, which involves a lot of roughhousing that usually leads to well…you know 🤭

♡ Tells you how beautiful you are and how lucky he is to have a woman like you on a daily basis.

♡ Was the most attentive husband on earth when you got pregnant. Ensured you had everything you needed at all times, would constantly massage your feet, and came to every doctors appointment you had.

♡ Absolutely obsessed with your pregnant belly. Hushed words of adoration in German as he kisses your cheek and rubs your belly. 

♡ Would often speak to the baby while she was still in your tummy. “Hallo Baby Mädchen, es ist deine Vater König…I can’t wait to meet you meine Prinzessin” 🥹

♡ Has always wanted a daughter, and when you two finally have one, that little girl became the centre of his entire universe. Names her after his mother, her grandmother.

♡ Is the best Girl Dad™️ on the planet. From playing dress up and letting her practice her makeup skills on him, to tea parties that involve him wearing a princess tiara, there’s practically nothing he wouldn’t do for her.

♡ Your little girl loves to cook with her father. He will hold her in his arms on his hip as he cooks, allowing her to sample everything in the process. 

♡ Loves taking family photos with his beautiful girls and your pets! His office at the base was full of framed photos of all of you, and he always caries a photo of you and your daughter with him at all times.

😈Behind Closed Doors…😈

♡ Last time we talked about how he fucks you, but what about how he makes love to you? Both are equally as intense to be honest 🤭

♡ When König makes love to you, it’s almost as if the whole world stands still, and you and him are the only people on earth…bodies moving in perfect rhythm and harmony with one another 🥲

♡ He takes his time with you, long intimate full body massages with sensual aromatic oils, feeds you chocolate covered strawberries from his lips, drizzles honey all over your body and practically licks you from head to toe, nipping and sucking at those delicious sweet spots of yours.

♡ The foreplay is excruciatingly euphoric. Soft, slow, gentle kisses along your neck and over your chest. Licking and pinching your nipples as you moan beneath him, the bulge beneath his sweat pants purposefully teasing your sopping cunt through your panties as he grinds against it before pulling them off. His tongue gently lapping at your folds and your clit from behind as he gently squeezes your ass cheeks.

♡ No part of you is off limits for him. His tongue darts into your tight hole as his thumb draws mind numbingly pleasurable circles over your swollen clit. Two fingers from his other hand slipping into your puckered hole. 

♡ Loves watching your gorgeous full lips wrap themselves around the thick tip of his cock, his large fingers gently running through your hair as whimpers, moans and sweet praises escape him. “You’re so good for me.” “Mein Gott you look incredible sucking my cock.”

♡ He loves when you’re on top, practically mesmerized at the sight of your curvaceous naked body hovering above him, large perky tits bouncing up and down as you slowly ride his huge cock 🤤

♡ His large hands guiding your hips as he looks up at you, arousal dripping from his icy blue gaze mirroring the arousal in yours. 

♡ He does, however, tend to get a lil too excited. You drive him absolutely crazy. Eventually he flips you over, throwing both your legs over his shoulders as he rests on his knees and begins slamming into you, repeatedly grazing your cervix with the tip of his cock as you practically scream his name. “Cum for me, Schatz, I want you to cum all over this cock.”

♡ As usual he always makes sure you cum first, but he can’t help but cum inside you. Your insatiably tight, wet walls clenching around his girth, milking every drop of cum from his aching balls 😩

#cod modern warfare #cod x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig mw2 #konig smut #konig x reader #könig #könig call of duty #könig cod #könig x reader #konig x you #könig fanfiction #konig #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #headcanon #konig x y/n #konig modern warfare #könig x y/n #könig x you #könig mw2 #könig smut #könig modern warfare #cod mwii #cod #18+ content #18+ mdni #18+ post #mdni

[simpforfandom231]

marry me

Heeeey guuuuuyyyys!!!! sooo i'm going through shit but i can move my legs a bit already so that's good! i didn't wanna be gone too long soo here is a small one, forgive me if there is any mistakes, my mind is not the best now but hey I have courage to write again! -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the bustling streets of Brussels welcomed the onset of evening, Reneé Rapp, the charismatic star of the Snow Hard Feelings tour, strolled hand in hand with her girlfriend, Y/N. The air was alive with the aroma of freshly baked waffles and the sounds of laughter from nearby cafes. It was one of those rare moments of tranquility amidst the whirlwind of fame.

"Isn't this city just magical?" Reneé exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement as they passed by a street performer juggling flaming batons.

Y/N smiled, her gaze drifting toward a nearby boutique. "Definitely! And look at that sweater in the window, it's so cool!"

Reneé followed Y/N's gaze, her interest piqued. "Oh, that does look amazing! Let's go check it out."

Hand in hand, they entered the boutique, the tinkling of the bell announcing their arrival. Y/N made a beeline for the sweater while Reneé browsed through the racks of clothes, occasionally pulling out a particularly outrageous item to show her girlfriend.

"This would look fabulous on you," Reneé teased, holding up a neon pink faux fur jacket.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. "I think I'll pass on that one, thanks."

Just as Y/N was admiring the intricate design of the sweater, a sharp voice pierced through the air.

"Hey, aren't you Reneé Rapp?" a young girl exclaimed, her eyes widening in disbelief as she recognized the famous singer.

Reneé grinned, her natural charm effortlessly taking over. "Guilty as charged! What's your name?"

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, used to these impromptu fan encounters. She watched as Reneé chatted with the girl, signing an autograph and posing for a quick selfie.

Once the fan had left, Y/N sighed, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Can't we just have one shopping trip without being interrupted?"

Reneé's expression softened, and she reached out to gently squeeze Y/N's hand. "I'm sorry, babe. I know it can be annoying."

Y/N managed a small smile, appreciating Reneé's understanding. "It's okay, I guess. Let's just focus on finding that sweater."

As they continued browsing, Reneé kept a watchful eye out for any more fans while trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for Y/N's sake. However, it seemed like fate had other plans.

"Reneé! Can I get a picture with you?" another voice called out, and before Reneé could respond, a group of excited fans swarmed around them, their cameras flashing incessantly.

Y/N sighed in resignation, exchanging amused glances with Reneé amidst the chaos. "Well, so much for a quiet shopping trip."

Reneé chuckled, her arm around Y/N's waist as they posed for yet another photo. "Looks like we're becoming quite the attraction here in Brussels."

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of photo ops and autographs, the crowd dispersed, leaving Reneé and Y/N with a newfound appreciation for the sanctuary of the boutique.

"Okay, let's make a deal," Reneé said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "If we manage to get through the rest of our shopping without any more interruptions, the sweater is all yours."

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of determination. "You're on!"

With renewed determination, they dove back into their shopping spree, their laughter echoing through the boutique as they picked out outfits for each other and shared playful banter.

After what felt like hours of blissful uninterrupted shopping, they finally emerged from the boutique, Y/N proudly sporting her new sweater.

"Mission accomplished!" Reneé declared triumphantly, pressing a kiss to Y/N's cheek.

Y/N smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for the woman by her side. Despite the challenges of fame, moments like these made it all worthwhile.

As the night descended upon Brussels, the vibrant energy of the city seemed to converge upon the grand concert venue where Reneé Rapp was set to perform. Y/N watched from the VIP section, her heart swelling with pride as she beheld her girlfriend commanding the stage with an electrifying presence.

Dressed in a glittering ensemble that shimmered under the stage lights, Reneé exuded an aura of confidence as she launched into her performance, the opening notes of "Not My Fault" sending ripples of excitement through the audience.

Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away as Reneé's voice filled the air, each lyric delivered with an intensity that seemed to speak directly to her soul. It was as if the entire world faded away, leaving only Reneé and the mesmerizing melody that enveloped them both.

Lost in the moment, Y/N felt a rush of emotion as Reneé's gaze seemed to lock onto hers, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. It was a look that spoke volumes, a silent declaration of love amidst the sea of adoring fans.

But just as the song reached its crescendo, a sudden commotion broke out in the crowd. Y/N's heart leapt into her throat as she watched Reneé's expression shift from exhilaration to concern in an instant.

Without hesitation, Reneé halted the music, her voice cutting through the chaos as she called out to the distressed fan. "Hey, are you okay?"

Y/N strained to hear over the din of the crowd, her eyes darting anxiously as she searched for any sign of trouble.

"I-I think so," the fan stammered, her voice trembling with emotion as Reneé knelt beside her.

Reneé's brow furrowed with concern as she gently helped the fan to her feet. "Take deep breaths, okay? We're going to get you some help."

As Reneé called for the medical team to assist the fan, Y/N felt a swell of admiration for her girlfriend's selflessness. Despite the interruption to her performance, Reneé's priority remained clear: ensuring the safety and welfare of her audience.

With the fan in capable hands, Reneé turned back to the stage, her resolve unwavering. "I want to make sure everyone is safe before we continue," she announced, her voice resonating with authority.

The crowd erupted into applause, their admiration for Reneé evident in every cheer and applause. Y/N watched with a swelling heart as Reneé's leadership and compassion shone brightly in the face of adversity.

Finally, with the fan safely attended to, Reneé resumed her performance, her voice ringing out with renewed vigor. As the music filled the air once more, Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for the woman she loved, knowing that no obstacle could dim the brilliance of Reneé Rapp.

Amidst the cheers and applause, Y/N caught Reneé's eye once more, a silent exchange of love and gratitude passing between them. In that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they found solace in each other's unwavering support, a bond stronger than any challenge they faced.

Unbeknownst to the audience, it wasn't just any ordinary performance for Reneé Rapp—it was her and Y/N's four-year anniversary, a milestone they both cherished deeply.

In between songs, Reneé took a moment to engage with her adoring fans, her infectious smile lighting up the stage as she bantered with the audience.

"You all are amazing tonight!" Reneé exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "But you know what makes tonight even more special?"

The crowd murmured in curiosity, hanging on Reneé's every word as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"It's mine and Y/N's four-year anniversary!" Reneé announced, her excitement palpable. "And I thought, what better way to celebrate than with all of you?"

Cheers erupted throughout the venue, the audience sharing in Reneé's joy as she explained her plan.

"I want to sing a little bit of 'The Wedding Song' for Y/N," Reneé continued, her gaze sweeping over the crowd. "And I need your help to make it extra special. Are you with me?"

The response was deafening as the audience erupted into cheers and applause, eager to participate in the celebration.

With a smile that could light up the darkest of nights, Reneé invited Y/N onto the stage, her heart swelling with love as she took her girlfriend's hand in hers.

Y/N's cheeks flushed with excitement as she joined Reneé in the spotlight, her eyes never leaving her girlfriend's captivating gaze. As the music began to play, Y/N found herself entranced by the graceful movements of Reneé's body, each step a mesmerizing dance that spoke volumes of their love.

As they sang together, their voices blending in perfect harmony, Y/N couldn't help but feel a rush of desire coursing through her veins. Reneé's presence was intoxicating, her passion igniting a fire within Y/N's soul.

Lost in the moment, they swayed together to the rhythm of the music, their love shining brighter than any spotlight. And as the final notes of the song faded into the night, they shared a tender embrace, the applause of the audience washing over them like a warm embrace.

With tears of joy glistening in her eyes, Y/N whispered words of love and gratitude to Reneé, their bond stronger than ever as they celebrated their anniversary in the spotlight of their love. And amidst the cheers and applause, they knew that this moment would be etched in their hearts forever, a testament to the power of love to conquer all.

As the audience erupted into cheers and applause, Reneé's heart pounded with excitement and nervous anticipation. This was the moment she had been waiting for, the culmination of months of planning and a lifetime of love.

Stepping forward, Reneé took a deep breath, her eyes locked on Y/N's as she began her speech. "Y/N, from the moment I met you, my life changed in ways I never could have imagined. You've brought so much joy, laughter, and love into my world, and I am eternally grateful for every moment we've shared together."

A soft smile tugged at Y/N's lips as she listened, her eyes shining with emotion. She knew what was coming next, but that didn't make the moment any less thrilling.

"Every day with you is an adventure, a journey filled with laughter, tears, and everything in between," Reneé continued, her voice filled with sincerity. "You are my partner, my confidante, and my best friend, and I can't imagine facing this crazy world without you by my side."

The audience watched with bated breath as Reneé's speech reached its climax, the anticipation mounting with each passing moment. And then, with a flourish, Reneé dropped to one knee, a small velvet box in her hand.

"Y/N, will you do me the honor of being my wife?" Reneé asked, her voice filled with emotion as she looked up at Y/N with unwavering love and devotion.

Y/N's heart soared as she nodded eagerly, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "Yes, Reneé, a million times yes!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, their excitement filling the air as Reneé slipped the ring onto Y/N's finger, sealing their love with a promise of forever.

In that moment, surrounded by the people they loved most in the world, Reneé and Y/N knew that their journey together was just beginning. And as they embraced, their hearts overflowing with love and happiness, they couldn't wait to embark on the adventure of a lifetime, hand in hand, forevermore.

#fandom #fanfic #renee rapp #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp x fem!reader #reneé rapp x fem!reader

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

The Only One

Steve Harrington x Reader.

Summary; I was watching Stranger Things earlier and the part where Nancy is in the trance that Vecna has her under and all I can think about is writing a similar story with the reader (like it's you it happens to instead of Nancy) and Steve freaking out.

You've been sleeping together for a while, it's just casual to him at least but you're falling for him but don't want to tell him, especially with all the shit going on in The Upside Down and Hawkins and with Steve and Nancy kinda connecting again.

Steve realises when he thinks he's going to lose you that he loves you and not Nancy and he confesses he loves you just as Vecna's hold on you breaks.

Warnings; Angst with a happy ending. 18+ minors dni

I don't give anyone permission to copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️

The relationship between you and Steve had started a few months ago, both of you growing closer since July 4th last year.

The first night you slept together was a combination of Steve bemoaning a string of bad dates he had went on with a girl called Demi and you wanting to forget all the nightmares surrounding July 4th for a little while.

Then it snowballed to meeting up regularly, sneaking around during your shifts together at Family Video.

Honestly, the sex was mind blowing and the more you lost yourself in Steve, talking to each other until the early morning, getting to know him the more you fell for him.

Yet you kept quiet even as the new threat plaguing Hawkins was in full force.

It was no time to confess feelings, not now.

The new threat, Vecna. It drew Nancy and Steve together again, the unresolved tension hung in the air and you could only watch your stomach sinking as Steve gazed at Nancy.

He still loved her. He would never love you and it broke your heart.

Nancy dove right after Steve as fast as you did when he was pulled under water by the vines and into The Upside Down.

You saw the looks as she tended to his wounds after the demo bat attack, the way he reached for her when earthquakes rocked the Upside Down.

Every interaction tore your heart in two and yet you couldn't say a thing because no one knew about you and Steve.

Let's face it even if they did it's not like you could compare to Nancy. She was the first girl Steve loved, she was special.

You were just an outlet to him. Even if sometimes you thought that his feelings for you were deepening it was most likely wishful thinking on your part.

It didn't matter though, not now. Not when you had a possible brewing apocalypse to help stop.

So you pushed your broken heart aside.

❤️

You didn't know what happened. One minute you were climbing the rope made of bedsheets that Dustin had fashioned to help aid your way out of The Upside Down.

The next minute everything changed and you were falling through the air into nothingness, hearing the faint echoes of Steve calling your name fading away.

When you finally landed after what feels like hours, you're at the mall standing up shakily as fireworks burst around you.

Anna your friend who died last year near the mall, flayed just like all the other poor souls who had lost their life is currently walking towards you with a soft smile on her features.

Memories from last summer flood through you, how she died.

She was heading to the mall to pick you up from your shift at the small boutique clothing store but unbeknownst to her you were with the Scoop Troop at the time when you were meant to be finishing your shift and meeting her.

On the way there she had met Billy and it was too late for her, she had joined the flayed.

Guilt filled you up inside because you hadn't told her what had been going on with Billy, no matter if she thought it crazy or unbelievable if she knew what was really going on in Hawkins then she wouldn't have been out in the first place.

You were with Dustin, Erica, Robin and Steve at the time, pulled into the Scoop Troops mission to decode a translation that Dustin had heard on the radio.

You were friends with Robin and she reached out for your help in decoding the saying as both of you learnt many languages.

Everything after that was a blur, investigating that delivery company, being trapped in the lift that plunged down to the depths of Starcourt mall, being captured by Russians, Steve taking a beating for you and Robin...

Helping Dustin's friend El from Billy and that horrifying monster from trying to kill her, it was terrifying, your heart hammering in your chest as you were introduced to the horrors of living in Hawkins.

Another dimension of sorts right under your feet.

Anna walks over to you and your frozen on the spot. When Anna was confirmed to be part of the many people that died as the part of the Flayed, you were inconsolable.

The guilt plagued you, survivors guilt the counsellor had told you when you spoke about Anna to her briefly.

"Why didn't you mention what was happening? You knew what was going on in Hawkins with Billy, that monster and yet and not once did you mention anything to me?"

The words eat away at you and tears roll down your cheeks because you could have said something, found Anna and warned her once you escaped from the Russians but you didn't.

Between being drugged by the Russians, to escaping them and then all the shit that followed everything was focused on the absolute nightmare you and the rest of the Scoop Troop found yourself in.

But what if you had managed to find Anna somehow? It was irrational as there was no time but your mind constantly clung to the what ifs?

"There was no time, I'm so sorry, I wish I could have found some way to save you. Every day I think of what I could have done...I"

The smile from her face slips and anger flashes across her features.

"Lies! You could have but you didn't! You'd rather run around with Steve Harrington!

I bet you're so happy right now that his attention is all on you, sleeping with him to dull the fact that you're a bad friend, the guilt eating away at you"

Sobs escape your lips and you shake your head desperate for her to understand but she grips your arms tight, shaking you.

The smile is back but it's eerie, it makes your stomach bottom out.

"No matter, you'll die soon too, you all will" the voice that speaks isn't Anna this time. No, this voice sends chills down your spine and Anna morphs into a thing of nightmares.

The evil that killed Chrissy, Jordan and Freddie. Who had cursed Max.

Vecna.

✨

❤️

You're someplace new now, surrounded by the bodies of people, children, teens and adults blooded and dead on the floor.

Fear pulses through you as you run through the halls. There's a sinking feeling inside you that this is where El was kept and experimented on, the others like her.

Sadness aches deep in your bones. What happened here?

Growls fill the air and fear roots you to the spot as Vecna approaches and calls your name.

No matter where you run it's no use because he will find you, even as you try desperately to move the boards blocking off the door you know it's no use.

Still, every instinct in you compels you to fight, to escape.

Vines snake their way up your jeans and tighten around your skin before you can stop it.

They wrap around your legs and your arms to keep you in place.

Vecna walks slowly towards you, and your heart pounds in your chest.

"It's time for me to show you who I am. What is coming. You can't escape it. Victory will be mine" his fingers latch onto your face and visions flash through your mind.

Vecna was Henry , Victor Creels, son, he was the cause of the physiological torture of his family, of his mother and sisters deaths.

Brenner found Henry at the hospital when the power overwhelmed him, fabricating that Henry died in a coma when in reality he became Brenners first test subject.

001

Then there's flashes of things, all of it leading up to a fight of powers between El and 001 after he murdered all the others like El, the doctors and scientists.

El refusing to join him to rid the world of mankind.

Then she sees how he became Vecna, how he first ended up in The Upside Down, his hatred for humans, thirst for revenge palpable.

Then the vision changes.

Death, screaming, blood everywhere. The bodies of your parents, of Robin and Steve lay dead as monsters ravage Hawkins.

This is Vecna's endgame. To open the gates between Hawkins and The Upside Down for good. To unleash hell.

Steves voice is calling to you. You hear it barely at first but it grows stronger.

I love you.

It must be a trick, a torture method of Vecna's because you know that isn't true. Steve doesn't love you.

At that moment the thrall you are under breaks and you are back in The Upside Down with Steve gasping for breath and shaking from what you have seen.

❤️

At the very second you were under Vecna's curse in The Upside Down, Steve had gestured for you to go next to climb the rope and get out of the hell scape you were in but when you don't respond he turns to you in confusion.

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, your body twitching and it feels like there is ice in his veins as realises that Vecna has invaded your mind.

The curse. Pure fear shoots through him and he swears his heart almost stops and he rushes to you, shaking you and shouting your name.

Confused voices echo from above as he sees Dustin, Nancy and Eddie peer down at you and him in worry.

"Get tapes, anything you can! Now!" he yells at them as he begs you to snap out of the trance.

"Please, please sweetheart"

Were you going to die? The thought of your body broken, limbs bent in unnatural angles, just gone... almost breaks him.

The thought of not seeing you smile, hearing you giggle at his lame jokes or curling up beside him, head rested on his chest terrifies him.

"Baby, please. Can you hear me?" he begs but it's like talking to a brick wall. You don't respond just stay under the trance and Steve just for a few seconds feels numb with agony.

Quickly he snaps out of it. No, he will reach you and you'll be fine he tells himself even when it feels like he can't breathe and dread and panic clouds his mind.

He can hear the faint sounds from up in Eddie's trailer and he shouts for the others to hurry.

There has to be something in the Munson trailer to use, some tape that Munson has that possibly includes your favourite song.

As he thinks of this he knows it's a long shot because your musical tastes and Eddie's were worlds apart.

You sang along to Blondie or Madonna, danced around your room to Duran Duran and The Beatles, tapes of Journey, AC/DC, would Munson have something of them?

He knows your favourite song though, it comes to him as he remembers you singing it in his car when he picked you and Robin up one day.

Crazy for you- Madonna. Frantically he shouts to the others to find the tape with Crazy for You on it, even though he knows deep down Munson won't have anything like it.

Time is running out and he's desperate, begs you to wake.

"I can't lose you, sweetheart. Come back to me please come back to me"

It's then he realized something that he's known deep down for a while and yet never fully accepted until now.

Nancy and him could never work, not again. They were too different, yeah they needed to clear the air between them, many things were left unresolved but there was no going back.

He didn't want Nancy back because he had moved on. Over the last few months, he had slowly fallen in love with you.

It was you who he wanted to be with. It was you who he loved.

"I love you, sweetheart, come back to me. I love you" he calls to you.

He startles as you come out of your trance and he catches you before you drop to the ground.

Relief floods through him and he cradles you to his chest. Did you hear his confession? What had happened when you were under Vecna's spell?

"Steve" you choke out as tears run down your cheek and he wipes them away tenderly.

"I'm here honey, I'm here"

❤️

Somehow Steve had managed to get you and him out of the Upside Down and when you woke up to Nancy and Max kneeling next to you the vision Vecna showed you comes to the forefront.

"What happened?" Nancy asks kindly and you recall everything that occurred, leaving nothing out.

Everything Vecna showed you. Including the vision that would haunt your dreams.

"All I could see was death everywhere, cracks along Hawkins splitting the town in half, monsters and darkness and my parents were dead... Robin and... Steve" he is at you at once and his hand entwines with yours.

"It was what would happen if Vecna won, if Max died and the gates opened. Hell would follow, death. We can't let that happen" you say and your voice goes stronger, fiercer.

It was time to save Hawkins, save Max and avenge Chrissy, Jordan and Freddies death.

❤️

A few days had passed since Vecna's defeat, The Upside Down being gone for good.

Eddie was recovering in hospital, Hopper miraculously back from the dead had taken on the role of sheriff and cleared Eddie of any involvement in Chrissy, Jordan and Freddie's deaths.

Max was recovering in hospital as well, she almost didn't make it when she was under Vecna's curse but somehow, by some miracle El's powers had come back and even in California she helped Max.

All of you banded together to weaken Vecna but El delivered the killing blow that destroyed the mind flyer and The Upside for good.

Now she was back along with Hopper, Joyce, Murray, Jonathan and Will.

Also, their friend Argyle who you liked immediately, the guy knew how to chill out.

There's a light tapping on your window and you peer up and giggle at what you see.

Steve was perched outside your window, flowers in hand and you smile as you open the window and let him inside.

"You could just use the front door you know" he shrugs, looking nervous.

"Where's the fun in that? He jokes and sits down, I spoke to Nancy, was long overdue. Cleared up some things"

Was he here to tell you he was back together with Nancy? You want so desperately to tell him you love him but what would be the point?

It would just add to his confusion, make him feel guilty he didn't return your feelings and you didn't want that.

His expression is tender and he stares down at you.

"Are you and Nancy together again?" you blurt out and he softens and shakes his head.

"No honey we aren't" This wasn't what you expected to hear.

"I don't understand. You still love her?" he settles beside you on the bed.

"We talked a lot. Both of us realised we would never work. I don't love Nancy, she's the past sweetheart. We both agreed that"

He hands you the flowers and something akin to hope blooms in your chest.

"I didn't see any of this coming you know? Getting to know you better, us being together. I didn't expect to fall in love with you but I did"

He loved you. What you heard wasn't a trick. He truly loved you.

"When I thought I was going to lose you I told you, I don't know if you even heard me" he murmurs and you take his hands on yours feeling giddy.

"I heard. Shit, I thought it was some torture trick from Vecna and all along it really was you?" his lips press to your forehead.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to realise sweetheart, sorry you thought I still loved Nancy when it's you I want, only you sweetheart"

Gently you touch his cheek, wincing as you gaze at the scar around his throat, the scar made by the Demobats tail.

"Does it still hurt?" you ask worriedly and he nods as you press a tender kiss near it.

"Sometimes, not now though" his arms wrap around you and he pulls you onto his knee.

"I love you, Steve, so much. I've been wanting to tell you for so long" he smiles as his head rests on top of yours.

"How about a date tomorrow? A chance to spoil my girl, dinner and a movie?" you agree to this and the joy in the air is palpable, you would discuss paying half for the date tomorrow even if Steve would argue against it.

For now, you just let the glow of happiness fill you.

"It's a date"

❤️

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff

[fictionismyreality3]

Hi! I love your writing and i was wondering if you could write something where it’s Bradley and the reader’s wedding and for the sendoff they do something like this causeI thought its was so cute. If you can’t that’s totally fine but thanks anyway! 🫶

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CyRCdL3uZL8/?igsh=Zmx5NWd6aW1rOXRn

A Day to Remember

Tags: Rooster x reader

Notes: hi babes!! Thank you much for the request, sorry it took so long, school is kicking my ass 😅

Warnings: weddings, romance and everything that comes with it

"No. There's no way I'm gonna have oragami F-16s thrown at my head on my wedding day." You laughed incredulously. 

When Bradley had proposed, you thought your life couldn't get any better. You had a dream job, a dream man, and friends that had been exactly what you needed, even though they were unexpected. Telling the squad went exactly how you expected, everyone was more excited than they had been when Roo and Maverick survived the Dagger mission. But no one had been more thrilled than Phoenix. When Pheonix asked to help plan the wedding, you were hesitant at first. 

You had first-hand experience with her lack of party-planning skills. Somehow, even though she was incredibly organized during her work, the woman had an utterly disastrous record with parties. 

And your wedding was going to be a pretty big party. 

But how could you say no to Phoenix? She had been there for you through everything. From showing up at your door with pints of ice cream when your favourite character died in the show you were watching to going full Godzilla on the new recruits that tried to hit on you. It was nearly impossible to say no to her when she pulled her puppy dog eyes out and started reciting every favour you owed her. 

So you agreed.

"C'mon, please? It will be cute, I promise." She pleaded as you continued to put your toppings on your pizza. 

It was Wednesday, which Phoenix had decided was the designated wedding planning day. She would show up with a bottle of whatever you guys wanted to drink and you would make the pizza, frozen to accommodate for the cooking skills neither of you possessed.

"Look, I already let you get away with the abundance of mason jars, I'm not getting divebombed by a bunch of the planes that we fly." You grinned. 

Rolling her eyes, Phoenix conceded, and that was how a lot of the planning was settled. Phoenix would bring up hundreds of crazy ideas, and you would filter through her overly enthusiastic party planning to find the good ones. You and Bob would rein her in whenever she got carried away, especially when she brought up the idea of having a literal rooster at the wedding. 

"I think it's hilarious," Rooster said as you two got ready for the day. He came up behind you, turning you around to face him as he lifted you up onto the bathroom counter. Your hands automatically came to rest on his shoulders, fitting perfectly just like the two of you had when you met. 

"You have one already and you can't seem to get enough, honey." He continued grinning. 

You swatted at his chest, giggling as he began to pepper kisses along your neck, following a path that only he knew down to your collarbone. You tilted your head back to give him access to your soft skin that only he would ever earn, and your words came out in a breathy sigh. 

"I think you just-" Your train of thought halted as he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot of your neck. "You just like the idea of a little Roo running around, you brute." 

The rest of that morning consisted of him trying to make said 'little Roo' happen, not that you were complaining. 

The wedding was 3 months away and you were choosing your dress. Payback had insisted you go to the boutique that his grandmother used to run, saying that you could even get a dress for free. You tried to urge against it, but after his granda met you she wouldn't hear a 'no'. 

"Oh, it's so nice that my Rueben made some friends. Let me tell you about the time he.." 

So you agreed. 

Everything was ready and Phoenix was running around like a madwoman trying to orchestrate the chaos of venues, cakes and flowers into one magnificent symphony. It was 3 days out from the wedding and you had gone with your bridesmaids to the hotel Pheonix had rented to have some much-needed girl time. Rooster and the rest of the guys had done the same, probably off partying somewhere under Mav's watchful eyes. 

As you sat getting your nails done, the colour a baby blue that Rooster had picked out, you continued to poke at Phoenix for the details of the wedding. She had demanded to keep you out of the loop when it came to the majority of the venue decoration she had selected. Even Rooster wouldn't spill when you called him that night. 

"I don't wanna face her wrath, honey. You know-" He began. 

"Hey! No talking to the groom. It's bad luck!" Phoenix said as she plucked the phone from your hand.

When your wedding day finally came, you were a ball of nerves. As you got blindfolded and brought up to bridal sweet to get ready, you could only imagine what combinations of decor she had concocted. In your mind, you replayed the time she tried to throw a Christmas party for the squad that resulted in one too many poppers, a fireplace, and a whole lot of firetrucks. 

"Ready, kid?" Maverick's voice broke you out of your thoughts. 

Taking one last look in the mirror at yourself, the dress you had picked out making you look like a princess, you nodded and took his arm. As the two of you finally stopped in front of the doors that stood between you and your future, your heart swelled with anticipation. The sound of Bruno Mars 'Just the Way You Are' being played on the piano filled your ears, and Mav straightened where he stood, looking down at you with a proud smile. 

"That's our cue, kid. You got this." He whispered to you as the doors opened. 

All at once every ounce of fear or worry you had been holding on to dissipated. 

Phoenix had outdone herself. 

White Calla Lilies hung from the ceiling, surrounded by fairy lights and other perfectly placed bobbles. Every table was decorated with a centrepiece of forget-me-nots and daisies. The teary smiles of your family and friends stared at you in happiness. Even the mason jar candles sat in just the right amounts. 

Your eyes locked on Bradley, whose tears were already flowing, and you walked down the aisle without hesitation. 

Mav handed you off to Bradley, muttering a few protective words before going to take his seat as the priest began to speak. 

"Hey, you." You whispered to Bradley.

"Hey, hun." He choked out through tears. 

Both of you stood at the altar, grinning ear to ear at each other. Your vows to each other made sure there wasn't a dry eye left in the room. 

"You may now kiss the-" The priest began to say.

He didn't even get a chance to finish before Rooster already had his hands on either side of your face and was slamming his lips to yours. He was kissing you so hard your hands shot out to hold the lapels of his suit jacket so your swooning didn't cause you to fall over.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and you could hear the distinct sound of Hangman and the other guys hooting and hollering as Bradley poured every single ounce of love he had for you into the kiss. 

You had your first dance to 'Ain't No Mountain High Enough', and before you knew it you and Rooster were being whisked away by Phoenix for your send-off. 

The same send-off that she had refused to tell you about. 

"Just don't get mad!" She said quickly.

"Nat? What do you mean? What did you do?" You looked to Rooster for help but he was wearing the same conspiratorial grin as Phoenix. 

Before you could say anything else, she was already pushing both of you outside. It took a second for your eyes and ears to adjust to the sight and sound of your cheering loved ones who were lining the steps of the venue. It took even longer to process what you saw in each of their hands. 

Instead of baskets of rice, everyone there was holding what looked like a piece of paper. You were about to ask Bradley what was going on, but then something hit you in the side of your head. Startled, you went to turn to see what hit you, only to be greeted with the sight of a mischievous Phoenix holding two origami planes. 

Two F-16s to be exact. 

Before you could react, you and Rooster were getting pelted by a rain of paper F-16s. You burst out laughing as he grabbed your hand, pulling you to the limo so quickly you barely got a chance to wave goodbye to everyone. 

You let out a sigh of contentment as you slipped into the limo, looking back at the perfect venue and perfect friends who had planned it all. 

Okay, maybe you'd let Phoenix plan every party you had. 

#oneshot #bradley rooster x reader #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x y/n #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw

[charlesslut16]

-Christmas shopping-

summary : you and max go shopping fo your shared, united, family...

PAIRING : max verstappen x fem!reader

WARNINGS : none

note : i hope you like this... And i love this cute pic of max as a baby

december masterlist ; masterlist 

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

Max Verstappen and his wife, you, were relishing a rare break from the whirlwind of Formula 1. The winter streets of their Dutch hometown were adorned with twinkling lights, festive melodies floated through the air, and the scent of mulled wine and cinnamon wafted around them.

Your mission today was simple yet joyous: to gather gifts for your little nieces and nephews, their parents, and each other. With a list in hand and hearts brimming with holiday cheer, you set off on foot, preferring to immerse yourselves in the cozy atmosphere rather than rush through the shopping spree.

Your first stop was a quaint toy store that sparkled with enchantment. Max's eyes lit up as he spotted miniature race cars lined up neatly on the shelves. He chuckled, imagining the delight on the children's faces. You, with your infectious laughter, gravitated toward a shelf of stuffed animals.

You picked up a fluffy bunny, envisioning her youngest niece cuddling it on Christmas morning.

As you strolled along, the chilly December breeze played with your scarf, and Max teased you about wrapping up like you were heading to the Arctic.

They laughed, their breath forming misty clouds in the crisp air.

Passing by a confectionery, you couldn't resist popping in to select boxes of chocolates and candies, knowing they would be perfect stocking stuffers.

Your next destination was a boutique for your family. You wanted to find something elegant for your mom and a thoughtful gift for your dad. Max, being the attentive partner he was, suggested a beautiful necklace he knew your mom had admired once.

For your dad, max found a vintage watch that resonated with his love for classic craftsmanship.

As the both of you moved through the streets, the spirit of giving seemed to infuse every moment. You encountered a street market bustling with local artisans, showcasing handmade crafts and artisanal goods.

Max and his wife, you, delighted in picking out handmade ornaments for their own Christmas tree and unique, handcrafted items for their siblings.

The afternoon sun began to wane, casting a golden glow over the town. Max and you stopped by a cozy café, sipping hot cocoa as you admired their purchases. You exchanged anecdotes, reminiscing about past holidays and your own childhood Christmas memories.

Your final stop was a bookstore where Max indulged in selecting adventurous tales for his nephews while you carefully picked out illustrated storybooks for her nieces.

You both knew the power of a good story and were excited to share these magical worlds with the children you adored.

Loaded with bags brimming with carefully chosen gifts, the both of them made their way back home, the sky now adorned with stars.

Walking hand in hand, you felt the warmth of the holiday season enveloping you. Their hearts were full, not just from the treasures you held, but from the shared moments of laughter, love, and togetherness—a true reflection of the spirit of Christmas.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 fluff #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen x you #christmas #masterlist

[femininenachos]

Hello lovely. I’ve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.

(Not quite, but close!)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called ‘jewels of the Aegean’, they’re feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.

For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morning’s catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.

And—it’s possible Clarke might be biased—Polis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexa’s sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last. 

Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexa’s.

Her jaw drops.

“Is this yours?”

Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarke’s expression. “I make good tips, but not that much.”

She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery that’s bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. ‘Spirit of Polis’ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.

“I mean, this one’s great too,” Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. “Not so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.”

Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. “It belongs to my uncle, so you don’t have to worry about offending me or the boat.”

She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once she’s confident she isn’t going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.

From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like it’s second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like she’s surveying her nautical domain. 

It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.

Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.

“Ready?”

When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexa’s side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.

Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexa’s form.

“Clarke.”

She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.

“Mm? Oh, yeah,” she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure they’re about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that it’s Polis’s best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more. 

Her lips are still tingling.

(Both sets.)

“At least give me a hint about where we’re going?”

The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexa’s mouth widens a fraction. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also stubborn as hell and won’t take no for an answer, so jot that down.”

It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she can’t control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexa’s face. 

“Good to know,” Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. “I like a challenge.”

~*~

Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.

It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isn’t a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. She’d gasped and clutched Lexa’s arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarke’s memory.

“What do you think?” Lexa asks.

Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.

She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she sees—the place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that she’s dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over. 

She blinks the moisture away.

“It’s…” She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. “Wow.”

She doesn’t second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexa’s waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.” 

Full lips twitch at the corners. “My pleasure.”

With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarke’s shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexa’s side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.

“I can’t believe this place has stayed under the radar. You’d think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.”

“Clarke.” Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. “You must promise not to tell anyone. It’s how we preserve it for future generations.”

Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexa’s gravity.

“Well… it’ll cost you. My silence doesn’t come cheap.”

The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way that’s rudely attractive.

“Name your price, but don’t forget I work in hospitality.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Lexa. What I want” - Clarke trails her hand over Lexa’s hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexa’s intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarke’s lips - “is you.”

She meant to say “your body” but she doesn’t correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.

Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.

Something about the slope of her smile signals she’s about to gain the upper hand. 

She shrugs.

“Okay, deal.”

The enduring gleam in Lexa’s eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves. 

~*~

They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexa’s attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast. 

(“Hellooo, mama,” Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. She’d let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. “Almost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexy’s head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ain’t playing.”)

At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but she’s glad she went with O’s suggestion.

Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexa’s eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that she’s not just a snack, she’s the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.

But Clarke’s smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment she’s the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.

Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.

“Come on in. The temperature is perfect,” she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths. 

Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.

“Gonna work on my tan for a little bit.”

The pout returns and she laughs, “Soon!”

Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.

Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.

The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.

“Lex?” Clarke twists around. “Could you do my—”

She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel. 

She doesn’t even flinch.

All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexa’s bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.

Clarke’s belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.

(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)

She has to remind herself to breathe. 

Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isn’t in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexa’s lip-bitten smile is any indication, it’s a lost cause anyway.

Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarke’s inner thigh. 

“Not the first time I’ve made a girl squirt.”

Clarke mutters a sarcastic “ha ha”, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies.

She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.

“Speaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?” She’s mostly kidding, but there’s an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. “Or am I one of the lucky few?”

A slow shake of Lexa’s head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarke’s skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: “It’s the truth, I swear.”

Still, Clarke has her doubts. There’s no way Lexa isn’t tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique. 

Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.

“I mean it, Clarke.” 

The space between them shrinks. 

Lexa’s pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. “You’re special.”

Water drips off the ends of Lexa’s hair onto Clarke’s shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. She’s the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarke’s been dreaming of all morning.

As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.

It’s on. 

She dips her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth and slides both hands up Lexa’s rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.

They kiss deeply, greedily.

They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarke’s thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.

The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexa’s mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexa’s throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and guides it between her legs. 

“Use your fingers.”

Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexa’s voice roughed by need.

Clarke studies Lexa’s face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexa’s clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexa’s hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarke’s entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexa’s entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses. 

For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats. 

On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.

And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.

“Good?” Clarke asks. 

Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.

Part of Clarke can’t quite believe this is her reality. That she’s buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist. 

She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexa’s arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexa’s tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.

It’s Lexa’s half-stifled whimper when Clarke’s thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus. 

Winding her arm around Lexa’s lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarke’s palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climax—the first of many, if Clarke has her way—sucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.

They’re hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one another’s lips.

She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexa’s form, the choppy motion of Lexa’s hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarke’s nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexa’s clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexa’s whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarke’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.

They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarke’s hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexa’s thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.

She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction she’d go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.

And all the while, she’s still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. She’s debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarke’s hand working between Lexa’s thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.

Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.

She ceases her movements, despite Lexa’s meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.

“What’s—” Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexa’s damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. “Is that a boat?”

Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.

A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until… oh. Oh, yeah.

Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.

She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.

So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.

“Shall we stay a while or…?” Clarke hedges. 

Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke. 

Consternation softens into regret.

“You didn’t even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.”

“I’ll cope. Besides…” Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. “It wasn’t a total bust.”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke that’s a win.

“Come on, don’t let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,” she continues in a playful tone. “I bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.”

One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “We do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if you’re hungry yet?”

Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexa’s inner thigh. “I could eat.”

The suggestive undertone isn’t lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.

“But lunch wasn’t what I had in mind… unless we’re counting pussy as a food group.”

Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. “Are Americans always so forward?”

“Um, I don’t recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.”

Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexa’s smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.

“Anyway, I prefer the term ‘go-getter.’ As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.”

A pained groan. “I should leave you stranded on the beach for that.”

“Hey!” Clarke swats at Lexa’s knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. “I was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now I’m strongly reconsidering.”

“If it helps sway your decision, I’d definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.”

“And how would you show your gratitude?”

“Mm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if you’re into toys.”

God.

“Okay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, I’m kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.”

It’s about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesn’t care. The truth is she’s soaked, aching for relief, and she isn’t picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.

Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarke’s neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexa’s tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers they’re not alone.

Cracking an eye open, she’s relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexa’s chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexa’s face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke can’t conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck. 

For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexa’s full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs. 

“Why isn’t teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.”

Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force. 

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexa’s lips and her stomach does another somersault.

“I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for sex,” Lexa says lightly.

Clarke lets out a small scoff. “You’re the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.”

“Can you blame me?” 

Lexa’s heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up. 

“Actually… I have a confession to make.” She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. “I dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didn’t even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.”

Heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She won’t forget it in a hurry and she’s flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexa’s cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasn’t there to witness it in person.  

“Now I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.”

“I said you were trouble.”

They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one another’s faces.

“How can I make it up to you?” Clarke asks.

“I have some ideas.”

Her mind can’t help going to the aforementioned strap.

All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. There’s only Lexa’s mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarke’s pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.

And it’s sublime. 

Close to perfection.

She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the moment—until a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss. 

The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarke’s eyes slide across to the jetty, where they’re being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.

“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Clarke says.

The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexa’s lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.

“Keep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler about—and possibly livestream on the internet.”

A faint smile reappears. “What am I doing, Clarke?”

“Looking. Giving me those” - she gestures vaguely - “eyes.”

It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexa’s thrilling, singular focus isn’t on her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” 

Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarke’s blood pump faster.

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Maybe I like it more than I should, considering.”

“Considering…?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into… whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.

In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarke’s face and she hopes the nerves don’t show through the front she’s putting on.

After a moment, the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. “Then let’s make sure you have good memories to take home with you.”

#vacation au #cool for the summer #clexa fic #my fic

[moonchildstyles]

l'amoureux

weddings are beautiful, especially in Paris, but as the bride's personal assistant, y/n didn't expect to lose herself in the magic.

wordcount: 11k

—————

"(Y/N), I think I'm going to lose it." 

Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) tried to center herself before turning on her heel to face Priscilla. Finding her boss with the perfectly creamy and embellished bridal veil in hand, she could only imagine what kind of imperfections Priscilla believed she found in the accessory. 

"What happened?" (Y/N) chirped, the feigned pleasantry coming as second nature at this point with how hellish these last nine months have been.

Holding up the veil with the sparkling adornments facing her, Priscilla's hands were shaking. (Y/N) couldn't tell if it was the three cups of coffee she made herself before they'd even left the villa for breakfast or if Priscilla was three seconds away from a legendary tantrum. 

"I think they gave me honey pewter, and not the lavender pewter I asked for when I ordered," Priscilla rushed out, shaking the veil in (Y/N)'s face as if she could see the sparkles better if they were less focused, "Do you see that? That's going to throw off everything I had picked out for my bouquet!" 

"Hold on, let me see," (Y/N) indulged her, grabbing for the delicate veil before her boss could have a chance to rip it to shreds. Angling the crystals to the light, (Y/N) could see some warmth in the jewels, but she remembers specifically making the order for Priscilla and emphasizing how important it was that the crystals lean on the cool tone (it was easier for both (Y/N) and the bridal shop to just do it this way, no matter if Priscilla was difficult during the entire process). There was no way this could have slipped by, especially with the amount of email updates (Y/N) requested for Priscilla throughout the entire making of her veil. 

Pulling out her phone and swiping into her professional email, (Y/N) found the initial conversation with the bridal boutique owner, all the details of the order spelled out plainly before being verified by the owner. Inside the same thread, photos had been sent with very clearly lavender hued jewels stitched to the tulle inbetween the romantic pearls. Examining the photos further, (Y/N) couldn't help but notice that, aside from the crystals and pearls, this veil looked nothing like the photos she had received. 

Priscilla's veil was supposed to have a subtle sheen to the fabric, chosen for the express purpose of emulating the way the Eiffel Tower sparkled at night which was exactly where she wanted to have her bridal shoot the day before the actual wedding. Minimal lace detailing was meant to border the entire hem, matching the delicate bodice of the gown Priscilla planned to wear during the ceremony. The veil in her hand had none of that, something she was surprised her boss hadn't picked up on, but was grateful for nonetheless. 

Peeking over her shoulder, Priscilla was busy with her daughter, Lenore, as the toddler walked her around the room, pointing at every tiara and ivory gown the tiny boutique offered. At least she could count on baby Nora babysitting her mother when (Y/N) couldn't. With her boss distracted, (Y/N) went on her mission to find the salesgirl she'd just had a choppy, half-French, half-English conversation with. 

"Ex-Excuse me?" (Y/N) muttered as quiet as possible before the girl could disappear behind a curtain taking her to the back. 

"Oui?" she chirped, petite blonde brows raised. 

Holding up both the veil and her phone, (Y/N) did her best to remember the two semesters of French she took in high school. "Le... Le voile? It's not... It's non, not right," she struggled through, pulling up the string of photographs of the correct veil on her phone in her other hand, "We need this one." 

She watched as the salesgirl looked back and forth between the photos and the veil in her hand. "Comment tu t'appelles?" 

"Um—its for Priscilla King?" Despite the fact she knew she couldn't butcher Priscilla's name like the French she didn't know, (Y/N) didn't feel confident saying much of anything right now. 

"May I?" the girl asked in accented English, gesturing to the veil in (Y/N)'s hand. 

After offering it up, (Y/N) watched as the salesgirl's eyes immediately dropped to the ticket looped around the comb attached to the veil. It only took a moment for the girl to turn the ticket around, displaying a completely different name on the tag.

They gave her the wrong veil. 

"Je suis vraiment désolé," the girl bubbled off, muttering out something about bringing the right one before holding up one finger and disappearing passed the curtain.

(Y/N) let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. 

Priscilla had been a nightmare as soon as the real wedding planning started a year ago when she found out it was more than just looking at wedding magazines and telling her wedding planner what her budget was (there wasn't one). But, in the last few months especially, she had escalated into a territory that made even her fiancé cower when she was in one of her moods, and Nate was one of the most firm and level-headed guys (Y/N)'d ever met (he really had to be if he was going to be with Priscilla at all). And, unfortunately for (Y/N), since she was Priscilla's full-time personal assistant and part-time nanny, she got the brunt of it all. 

At least with this, she wasn't going to get her head ripped off, unliked when they found out the venue had accidentally ordered one case less of the very specific champagne Priscilla insisted on serving. That had been one that even had Nora asking why her mom's face was turning so red over some bubbly water. 

Stepping towards the case of the something blue's the bridal shop offered, (Y/N) caught Nora's attention first before her mom shot her a panicked glance when she noticed there was no veil in sight. 

"Everything's okay," (Y/N) shot off before her boss could say a thing, "They brought us the wrong veil on accident, but I showed her the pictures and emails, and she's getting yours right now." 

"So, no honey pewter?"

"Nope. And, there's going to be lace trimming." 

"Oh, thank god," Priscilla exasperated, looking much too relieved over this simple of an inconvenience. "(Y/N), I don't know what I would do without you; I'd probably lose my mind." 

(Y/N) refrained from telling her she most likely already did long before (Y/N) entered the picture. Instead, she plastered a smile on her face and hoped they would make it back to the villa in time to take a nap before she would be on Nora duty while Priscilla and Nate had a final meeting with their wedding planner before guests started pouring in tomorrow for the start of the three day long celebration leading up to the actual wedding on Friday. 

"You know I'm always happy to help." 

————— (Y/N) sighed as she stood outside of the banquet hall's bathroom. As soon as the guests started pouring into Paris this morning, she had been on Nora duty while Priscilla and Nate ran around with the wedding planner, leaving her to entertain the toddler for hours. Now, she was left exhausted as she lent against the elaborately carved wall of the hall, watching as the bride and groom welcomed their guests in before a dinner and cocktail hour would be served to kick off the next couple days worth of celebration. 

"Nora, sweetie," (Y/N) called, turning to face the heavy wooden door to the restroom, "do you need help?" It'd been longer than five minutes, which was cause for concern for the easily distracted Nora. 

"No, I'm just wiping!" Nora chirped through the door, much too loud given the echo provided by the looming hallway of the banquet hall. (Honestly, the space was basically a cathedral, as far as (Y/N) was concerned. Stained glass windows were placed high on the intricate walls, tinting the vaulted ceilings in shattered hues. This place was much more than a banquet hall, especially if the deposit for one night was anything to go by). 

The sound of a huffed chuckle came from behind (Y/N), the laugh getting her to instinctively turn on her heel. She had an apology poised on her lips, a reciprocating smile that said "kids, right?", but as soon as she caught who was behind her, she stopped a breath short with her lungs stunted. 

Dressed in a raspberry blazer, gold accents stitched through the seams with curling brown hair held back only by a pair of large sunglasses, was Harry Styles. 

Harry actual Styles. In real life. 

(Y/N) didn't have a chance as soon as she caught sight of that curving smile, dimples and all, as he advanced down the hall to the men's bathroom just to the side of her. She was sure she looked like a guppy with the way she gaped her mouth open as if to say something before snapping it closed. 

Sucking in a deep breath, the air coming in prickles through her throat, she did her best to form a coherent thought. "Sorry, she's just..." (Y/N) breathed out, an absent smile plucking at the corners of her lips as he came closer. He really did have the smallest group of freckles dotted over the bridge of his nose. 

"'S alright, it was funny," he told her, voice deep and rich. It was familiar to her—at least as familiar as a voice could be when only previously heard through a pair of headphones or a speaker. 

With that, he slipped around her. A polite, lopsided smile was on his lips, as he disappeared into the restroom. 

(Y/N) stood in shock, watching at the bathroom door closed heavily behind him, only a flash of the blazer and the flare of his pants seen before he was gone. 

That was Harry Styles. 

What was Harry Styles doing in Paris? What was he doing at this venue in Paris? Priscilla and Nate had rented out the whole space for the entire night, so no one outside of previously RSVP'd wedding guests should be here. 

There was no way he had been invited to the wedding, though, right? Priscilla surely would have mentioned if she knew Harry Styles at all, let alone well enough to invite him to her one-hundred dollar per plate, per course, per person wedding. Right?

(Y/N) even helped her mail out invites and had passed along the final seating chart to the wedding planner, she couldn't have missed a name like his, right? 

Just then, Nora popped out of the bathroom, tiny fingers grabbing for (Y/N)'s hand before (Y/N) had even noticed she was there. 

"I'm ready now," Nora chirped, already tugging (Y/N) back to where the bride and groom were shaking hands and hugging guests, welcoming them into the space. 

Though her brain was still a bit rattled (she had literally been listening to his music just this morning as she got ready and now she was sharing the same air as him), (Y/N) escorted Nora through the fray of guests until they had reached her mom and dad by the entrance. 

"There you are!" Priscilla beamed as soon as she saw her daughter, reaching her arms out to pick Nora up and sit her on her hip. "Got everything taken care of, Nori?" 

"Yeah, now I have room for dinner," Nora smiled, nothing short of proud of her accomplishments in the bathroom. 

Priscilla only laughed along with the guests that were slowly shuffling through the entrance that had caught the exchange, bouncing her daughter on her hip before turning to (Y/N). As soon as she caught sight of her assistant's face, the dark arches of her brows came together in a pinch. 

"Is everything okay, (Y/N)?" she asked, stepping out of line and letting Nate field all of their relatives and friends for a moment. 

(Y/N) floundered as she tried to find her voice, her mouth suddenly dry as the memory of him was brought to the forefront of her mind. "I think... I just saw Harry Styles by the bathrooms." 

"Oh, is he here already? I don't remember saying hi." With Nora hooked over her hip, Priscilla stood on the toes of her heels, eyes scanning over the hall in search of the head of brown curls (Y/N) could probably point out from memory.

"You know him? He's really here for the wedding?" (Y/N) questioned, trying to keep her jaw from dropping. 

"Kind of," she shrugged, dropping her search to match (Y/N)'s wide gaze, "Nate knows him better than I do, but yeah. His firm reps Harry, but they don't see each other too often. It's mostly through his manager, but Harry's always friendly and super kind when he comes in; he's so good at remembering the weirdest things Nate mentions in passing. We decided to invite both of them." 

(Y/N) didn't want to admit that she knew exactly who Harry's manager was and was excited at the thought of Jeff also being in attendance of the wedding. 

"I can't believe you've never told me," (Y/N) gaped, "You've heard me listening to his stuff all the time, and you never said anything. I helped with the seating chart and I didn't even notice his name!" 

A soft smile worked its way onto Priscilla's lips. "I know, I thought that was weird, but I figured you'd find out soon enough. You should talk to him more; he's really nice, (Y/N)." 

"I can't talk to him," (Y/N) immediately shut her down, remembered the way she looked at him like a guppy during the whole two second interaction by the restrooms. A wonderful first impression. 

"Why not?" Priscilla pressed, painting a bright smile over her face when one of her relatives skated passed their conversation.

"He's Harry Styles, I can't talk to him," she reasoned though it sounded silly out loud. That thought was only reaffirmed when Priscilla gave her an arched brow and a quirked smile. 

"Whatever, (Y/N)," Priscilla sighed with affection for her assistant, "We'll be here for a few days, so I doubt you'll be able to avoid him much, but I'm excited to see you try." 

Shaking her head, a short smile tugged on (Y/N)'s lips. "You want to see me suffer." 

"No, I would never," Priscilla waved off, "Nora likes you too much for me to torture you. But I enjoy seeing you torture yourself over silly things like this." 

Before (Y/N) could give any kind of smart remark back, Nate beckoned Priscilla back to the fray, where an elderly couple (Y/N) remembers as Nate's great-aunt and uncle was waiting to greet the bride. Priscilla gave them a wave before turning to (Y/N) one last time, something wicked turning the very corner of her mouth. 

"Have fun." 

With that, she walked back to join her groom, Nora on her hip waving to (Y/N) over her mom's shoulder. 

—————

"This way, this way, s'il vous plaît!" 

Tearing her eyes from the Degas painting hung up high on the gallery wall, (Y/N) followed the guide that was touring their group through the Louvre. With Priscilla, Nate, and Nora spending the day with their families before the craziness of the pre-wedding shoot tomorrow and the big day on Friday, (Y/N) was given somewhat of a day off of all her duties. After forwarding Priscilla everything she might need while filling out some of the marriage paperwork that went along with having an abroad wedding, she was left to either go on the wine tasting at one of the beautiful vineyards outside of Paris, or on a guided tour of the Louvre—both booked and paid for by the bride and groom so their guests can enjoy a taste of Paris as a thank you for spending their special day with them. As much as (Y/N) would have loved to get a little day drunk at a French vineyard, she didn't trust that she wouldn't be on Nora duty later in the evening. Instead, she packed herself onto the shuttles with some of Nate and Pricilla's family and friends that would take them to the art museum. 

Now, almost an hour into the tour, (Y/N) wished there wasn't a guide telling her when to move on from each room and where to go next. Of course each room was teeming with people just as excited to see the classics as she was, but that didn't diminish any of the magic she felt staring at the pieces, a tiny plaque next to them detailing out the title and materials used with a famous artist's name attached. She was currently entranced with the Degas paintings of all the tutu clad ballerinas—dramatic in the value but tender in each stroke—and didn't want to go before she had a chance to get a look at each and pretend she was there in the opera house watching those girls perform. 

But, as she had found during the beginning of the tour, the guide wasn't going to leave without all members of the group with them. He would stand at the threshold of the next room, mega-watt smile on his face as he waved his little orange flag above his head, beckoning the group to come this way, this way! It was easier on everyone if she said her quiet goodbyes to her favorite pieces with a lingering glance and a photo on her phone before joining her group. 

Before she could pout any at the loss of the Degas paintings, the guide directed everyone with a bright smile into the next long hallway. In here, marble statues and sculptures were dotted around the space, standing proud and glimmering in the sunlight filtering through the open windows. The space was otherwise sparse, leaving all attention onto the legendary figures planted across the room. Though she heard the tour guide spouting off facts and details about how important these statues were, how they came to be in the Louvre's possession, and some of the techniques that helped them come to be, (Y/N) didn't hear anything coherent. She was too busy trying to keep her jaw from dropping. 

How could anyone manage—especially with tools that weren't anywhere near as advanced as what was at an artist's disposal now—to make stone appear soft and pliable, full of curves and gentle give? Nothing was as breathtaking as seeing the hand of a sculpted man holding his lover by the thigh, his fingertips denting deep against her flesh, only to be reminded from the glimmer from the sunlight, that this was nothing more than stone manipulated to mimic human skin. 

As soon as she heard the guide announce in his accented English that the group was free to roam around the hall, take photos and explore the pieces, she all but bound away from the group. She made a beeline towards the statue that caught her eye the second they slipped into the room. 

Large, sprawling wings sprouting from Cupid's back almost looked large enough they could graze the ceiling as the marble swooped down in the shape of a muscled arm as he cradled his lover. Pysche was wrapped in nothing more than a sheet, the marble somehow looking thin and delicate like the silk that was meant to be draped over her waist in a cradling hold. Cupid held her gently as he craned his neck, trying to reach her lips and revive her with a kiss as the title of the piece suggested. They were trapped in that one moment, not close enough to share their kiss, but just near enough (Y/N) could see and feel the anticipation shared between the two mythological figures. 

"'S crazy, isn't it?" 

The same deep voice that made her breath catch not more than twenty-four hours prior brought (Y/N) back to the real world in the middle of the museum. Whipping her head to the side, she saw Harry Styles once again sharing the hall with her. 

He wore wide legged jeans with holes over the knees and a faded, vintage looking t-shirt with bunnies graphically printed along the bottom hem. A brown tortoise clip disrupted the flow of the line of rabbits as it was pinned to the bottom as well, bunching the fabric enough to reveal the waistline of his Gucci branded pants. The same large sunglasses she had seen him with last were perched on the top of his head, holding back the iconic brown curls he was known for. 

"What?" she asked, the sound of her blood pumping past her ears having drowned out everything he had to say the second she realized who he was. 

"The sculpture," he smiled, nodding ahead to the marble gods, "'S crazy people can look so real when they're made out of stone like that. Even the blanket she's wearing looks like 's about to float away, even though 'm sure 's easily over a hundred pounds." 

"Oh," she chirped, clearing her gaze with a blink before she turned back to face the sculpture that had captured his attention. Neurons fired in her brain, pushing her to find something to say that wasn't about how much she loved him or oh my god, you're Harry Styles, what are you doing out of my phone screen?! "Y-Yeah, definitely. I've always thought it was interesting the way these people were able to make rocks look so soft. I don't understand how, but I like looking at it." 

A dimple dented his cheek, that much (Y/N) could see from the corner of her eye. His arms crossed over his chest made him appear even broader than photos granted, even as he shifted his weight on long legs that toed at the ground with a hip pushed outwards. "I know what y'mean. I've tried painting something like this a few times, and I can't even get something that's actually soft to look the way this marble does. I don't think 's real; we're not supposed to touch, only because if we do, we'll find out 's all actually made out of sponges or something." 

A smile quirked (Y/N)'s own lips at his joking, a stifled laugh exhaling from her nose so as to not disrupt the quiet that filled the hall. "I think you might be on to something," she told him, exaggeratedly looking around the hall as if trying to spot eavesdroppers, "I'd be careful with that information, if I were you." 

A peek of his white teeth appeared from between his raspberry lips as he nodded to her joke, leaning into the secrecy they were creating over the subject. A short silence fell between them as they resumed looking at the sculpture, (Y/N) peeking at the plaque beside the statue though she couldn't comprehend anything knowing who was standing beside her. 

"You're friends with Nathan and Priscilla, right?" Harry asked, side-stepping into her space though he crooked his head, making it apparent he was looking over her shoulder at the plaque. 

"Yeah, I guess" she mused, impressing herself by how normal she was appearing through this conversation despite the rattling of her heart in her ribcage. "I'm Priscilla's personal assistant, and sometimes nanny for Nora. We're basically family at this point." 

"Oh, so you're (Y/N), then." Harry pulled his attention from the sculpture, looking to her with a bright smile and something like recognition going through his gaze as he trailed his eyes over her face, placing her for the first time. 

"I am, yeah," she smiled back, feeling her skin warm at the fact Harry Styles knew her name and had some idea of her existence. 

"Nathan's mentioned you a few times. Supposedly, y'keep Priscilla's head attached to the rest of her, and keep her from biting off Nate's when she's had a day." She couldn't help but think he sounded almost impressed. If only he knew what it was like to work with Priscilla day in and out, then he really would be impressed. 

"I wouldn't say that...," she trailed off, feeling a little too proud to completely deny the hard work that went into her job. "Nate's very good at calming her down, too. So is Nora. I'm just the first one she goes to with her problems." 

"See? That says it all," he pressed, dimples denting his tanned cheeks, "If y'weren't so good to her, she wouldn't go to you before finding Nathan." 

She liked when he said it like that. It made her feel important, even if she was nothing more than a little speck in Priscilla's grand life. 

"I guess so," she whispered.

Flicking his gaze from the statue back to where she stood beside him, he offered his name in a low voice: "'M Harry, by the way. Realized I never introduced myself even after I creepily guessed your name." 

The loud laugh that bubbled out of her chest had little to do with the joke he tacked on the edge of his introduction, and more to do with the fact Harry Styles had just offered out his name as if she was one of the point-two percent of people in the world who wouldn't already know who he was. He was just as polite as all the twitter threads and articles suggested. 

"Nice to meet you, Harry," she reciprocated, trying her best to keep her face from warming the longer she looked at him. His nose really was just as perfect in person as she'd seen in photos. 

If she looked at him long enough, pretty features on a broad body hidden under soft tufts of clothing, (Y/N) could see him blending in with the perfect statues around them. Fluffed spikes of marble would emulate the curls on the top of his head, hard corners carved from the stone would be the only thing could could accurately display the quiet strength in his form. Even the length of his pink shoelaces wound through his worn Vans could be perfectly carved from small strips of marble. He would blend right in with Cupid himself, only missing a pair of fair wings drawing from his back. 

Before their conversation could go any further, (Y/N) was broken out of her stupor at the sound of the accented English of their gallery guide calling for everyone to reconvene at the other end of the hall. She swore Harry's gaze lingered over her for just one extra moment before he followed her eye towards where that same little flag that was being waved over their guide's head as their group was directed "this way! this way, s'il vous plaît!".

It was an unspoken moment as they fell into step with one another going towards the threshold to whatever was next on the agenda, (Y/N)'s strides much slower as to match Harry's that was lingering despite the length of his legs. 

"Bummer, right?" he offered in a quiet tone as they were still steps behind the last stragglers of their group. 

"Hm?" 

"I was hoping he'd let us stay in here a little while longer. I was having fun," he told her, the curl on his lips just as secret as his muted tone. 

"Maybe he'll let us roam around on our own at the end, and you can come back," she told him, trying to rein in her hammering pulse from the way he seemed to be sharing something secret with her. 

"And, you'll come with me, right?" 

(Y/N) didn't have a hope in the world to stop her rattling heart and stunted lungs at his request. 

"Of course," she said in a pitched tone, heart racing too fast to listen to anything their guide was saying as their group was directed towards the next room, "I wasn't done looking at them, anyway." 

Harry ignored the hooked thumb she threw over her shoulder in the direction of the couple of myths suspended in marble they had spend their time in front of. Instead he had his gaze pinned on hers, seemingly ignoring everything else.

 "Me neither." 

—————

(Y/N) was relieved as she stood behind the line of the camera, watching as Priscilla posed and primped in front of the lens. The Eiffel Tower stood in the background, large and just as romantic as Priscilla had gushed over the second she pitched the idea of a bridal shoot in front of the landmark. With the right editing, the phots were going to look dreamy and worthy of being splayed across bridal magazines for the next decade, at least. 

Plus, when she was busy being pampered over, Priscilla didn't have time to continue the inquisition she had started the second (Y/N) climbed into the taxi that morning. 

Somehow, word had gotten back to Priscilla that Harry Styles and her assistant had spent almost all of the tour of the Louvre together, giggling and whispering over quiet jokes and fonding over the same art pieces. And according to Priscilla, that meant they were in love and had been keeping the secret from her. 

That's why (Y/N) treasured this reprieve behind the scenes, stepping back whenever a makeup artist came by to touch up the powder under her boss's eyes or a hairstylist perfected the waves that rippled her dark hair. She didn't need Priscilla feeding into the crush that was beginning to take ahold of (Y/N)'s heartstrings every time she thought of how she spent her time the day before. 

That is until her name was shouted across the set. A flash of Priscilla's dark hair was all could be scene as she disappeared into the impromptu changing stall that had been set up by the team hired to perfect the shoot. 

(Y/N) sighed before resigning herself to standing outside the stall while Priscilla shouted to her through the sheet, asking for more details of the 'date' she had been on the day before.

"Yes?" she called to her boss once she was on the other side of the familiar stall while Priscilla was helped into her second wedding dress (she had three looks all together that would be shown during the big day, and she wanted to make sure she had wonderful pictures of each of her gowns). 

"Tell me what happened in the sculpture room again," Pricilla demanded, "I want to know exactly what he said. And how he said it. And where he was looking when he said it." 

Remembering the way Harry had stood beside her, admiring Cupid and his love (which she later found ironic considering he had a role acting as his own version of the god) brought a shiver to her heart. The sound of his voice dropping next to her ear was vivid enough in her memory that she couldn't believe Priscilla hadn't already heard it with the way it echoed in her head. 

Still, even with her hammering heart and uneven filling of her lungs, (Y/N) shrugged. "I've already told you everything he said. We talked about the sculpture and then how I knew you and Nate." 

"And that was what had him following you through the rest of the museum?" Her tone was incredulous, (Y/N) not needing to see Priscilla's face to know how scrunched and petulant her features probably were. The spitting image of Nora when she was having a tantrum. 

"I guess so." 

A loud groan could be heard alongside the sound of a zipper lacing together. "C'mon, (Y/N)! Give me something fun!" she called, "It's my wedding week, and this is how you treat me? Not giving me even a little crumb of what it was like flirting with him in the middle of Paris?" 

"That's because we didn't flirt, Pris. We talked about paintings." 

Drawing the curtain aside in a harsh pull, Priscilla was unveiled in her second dress of the day, this one large and tulle filled with sheer panels on the bodice. Despite being dressed like an angel, the grump on her face was the perfect juxtaposition that described her boss. 

"Then why did Nate tell me his cousin saw you two huddled away while everyone else was looking at the Mona Lisa?" 

(Y/N) tried to recall when they had even visited the Mona Lisa, but every memory after the sculpture hall was more focused on Harry than anything else. She couldn't help but see him in every billowing piece of art, abstract or realistic. 

"Oh my god," her boss chirped, features lighting up at something (Y/N) must have missed. 

"What?" (Y/N) asked, about to look over her shoulder. Maybe the Tower had sparkled to life early? 

"You made a face!" Priscilla bubbled, reaching for (Y/N)'s shoulders before giving her a little shake, "That's what I was looking for! You don't even remember seeing the Mona Lisa, do you? You were too distracted by your new boyfriend." 

"He's not my boyfriend—I don't even have his number, or anything." 

"But you were distracted with him, weren't you?" The silence (Y/N) offered was enough to have Priscilla rocketing with glee. "I knew it!" she beamed, clasping her hands together with her manicured nails gleaming in the French sunset, "Are you going to dance with him tomorrow? I can change the seating chart with Adelina and make it so you're seated together for dinner if you want. Oh my god, I cannot wait to tell Nate 'I told him so' when he finds out you're seeing Harry." 

(Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at the miles and miles ahead of herself Priscilla was getting. "I don't think you can tell Nate anything considering the only place I'm 'seeing' Harry is at your wedding tomorrow." 

"Exactly," she cemented, trailing over to where the photographer was calling to his muse to resume her posing, "You should be thanking me for getting you a date to the wedding. So last minute, too." 

Before (Y/N) could offer any kind of retort, Priscilla slipped into the same thing that had earned her her fortune in the first place—modeling. (Y/N) could only stand behind the photographer and the line of lighting equipment, stewing in the heat that reached her cheeks at the idea Pricilla put in her head of dancing with Harry tomorrow at the reception. 

Sure, maybe he would say hi at the ceremony tomorrow, but she couldn't see herself as being more than someone to spend the tour of the Louvre with, to him. Even if the idea of knocking elbows with him on accident while they ate dinner got her heart bubbling with a rush of blood through her body. 

Paris was perfect for dreams, lovely romantic ones especially, but there was no reason to think Harry Styles was going to be anything more than a perfect addition to those dreams. 

—————

"Why aren't you in your white dress?" 

(Y/N) tucked Nora in front of her as staff from the venue rushed passed them through the hall, arms laden with bouquets of flowers Priscilla was sure to through a fit over if she saw they still weren't set up. In front of her, Nora almost tripped over herself as she looked over her shoulder at (Y/N), a fluffy lavender dress on her toddling form.

 "Your mom is the only one who gets to wear white today, remember?" (Y/N) prompted, pulling Nora to walk again at her side with her hand outstretched for the little girl to wrap her palm around her fingers, "She's the one getting married, so she gets the special dress." 

"Oh," Nora sounded, bright blue eyes shuttered by an owlish blink. "When are you getting married, then? Are you going to wear white, too?"

Despite having started coming around just when Nora was getting into her curious phase, non-stop questions flooding from her mouth with little filter, (Y/N) never tired of her prodding. Drawing her into one of the many private rooms attached to the venue where Nate's and Priscilla's families were gathering before joining the main hall before the ceremony, (Y/N) tried to figure out how to explain to the toddler there wasn't a wedding of hers that needed to be worried about.

"I'd have to trick someone into marrying me first before I have those answers for you, sweetie," (Y/N) joked with a soft laugh, a tease that went right over Nora's head as she looked up at her with her Bambi eyes. 

"Why would you trick someone like that?" 

(Y/N) stammered, mouth dropping into a guppy gape as she tried to talk her way out of a bad joke to tell to a toddler. "I—It was..... You're right, Nori," she relented, walking to where the little girl's maternal grandmother was waiting with a bright smile on her face at the sight of her granddaughter, "That would be mean of me." 

"Yeah. My mommy told me you have a boyfriend too, so it would be mean to trick someone else into marrying you when I'm sure he would want to marry you." 

Priscilla was lucky she wasn't here, otherwise she could be getting a glare full of daggers for telling Lenore something as silly as that, especially knowing who Priscilla was telling the toddler was the boyfriend in question. 

Before (Y/N) could say anything to dispute the case, she passed Nora off to her grandma. As she fielded questions about Priscilla's state the morning of the big day, (Y/N) decided she would have to wait on gently scolding her boss until after the ceremony at the very least. 

—————

(Y/N) did her best to keep her tears at bay as she watched Priscilla and Nate exchange vows, Nora sat in her lap with her eyes pinned to her mom and dad finally marrying after hearing about this impending wedding for two years (though (Y/N) was sure she could only really recall the last year's worth of memories with Priscilla running around frantic and Nate following in an apologetic wake). Vials of sand that represented each family member were now swirled together in a jar beside the officiant, symbolizing the union of their entire family through this marriage, one that couldn't be separated. The weather was perfect out in the vineyard Priscilla snagged a year and a half in advance of the date, just warm enough so she could blame the heat covering her skin on the sun and not the lump forming in her throat. 

As hard of a time as she gave Priscilla and the chaos that had filled her work for the last year, her boss was one of the closest people in her life. Seeing Priscilla so happy with someone like Nate—her perfect counterpart—, being married in the most beautiful place, her dream wedding come to life, was enough to have (Y/N)'s eyes sopping with unshed tears. 

Watching them be announced husband and wife, Nora joining them on their descent back down the flower petal studded aisle, (Y/N) finally allowed her tears to fall. Her eyes followed them along with the rest of the guests as the little family disappeared inside the winery. Gentle instrumental music struck up before ushers made their appearance and began herding the guests to the east side of the rustically French building, ivy and lavender sprigs clinging to the siding that would be the backdrop for the cocktail hour that would commence while Priscilla and Nate reveled in the newly married bliss and took a few photos before the reception started. 

These moments were the hardest part about going to family events with Priscilla: the mingling. As familiar as she became with certain figures in her boss's life, it wasn't like these were her family and friends. Her closest friends in this whole ordeal were tucked away in the bridal suite while (Y/N) was left to snack on cucumber sandwiches and tiny flutes of wine, lingering by the side of the winery while pretending to clack away on her phone. Here and there, familiar faces greeted her, chatting about the beautiful ceremony and how cute it was for her to keep ahold of Nora while her parents were busy otherwise. (Y/N) of course thanked everyone, reiterating that the ceremony was very beautiful, yes, Priscilla's dress was gorgeous, wasn't it?, and the menu for dinner sounded better and better the longer they stood out in the Parisian countryside. As soon as the dead air appeared, they would share goodbyes and chat with you later! before heading off to another group of people to share the time with. 

Of course, this was the one hour during the entire week that Priscilla wasn't in dire need of her, leaving her to her own devices as she read the same three emails over and over to busy herself. 

Until, of course, her name was called from one of the small cocktail tables a few feet over, a head of brown curls popping up over the crowd as she searched for her caller. A ringed hand waved to her just as one of Pricilla's college roommates moved out of the way, a giggling whisper shared with whoever it was that was at her side when the woman caught sight of who she was blocking. 

Harry, clad in a creamy white suit (he was very lucky Priscilla hadn't caught him, otherwise that ensemble would have been stained red with wine or something even harder to get out of the fabric) with a bright smile on his face, dimples deep in his cheeks, as he called to her. At his side was Jeffery Azoff, who (Y/N) was almost as excited to see in person as she was when she met Harry himself. He beckoned her to him with a wave of his hand, green nails sparkling in the golden hour sunlight. 

"Hey, you," he greeted her, a grin with his two front bunny-like teeth on display, "Been waiting for m'turn to talk to you since the ceremony ended." 

(Y/N) couldn't contain the smile that spread over her lips at his words, his eyes pinned to her with the full of his attention, the same way everyone always described when meeting Harry Styles. No distraction could pull his attention from someone he deemed worthy of it. "Really?" she asked, hoping he didn't pick up on the dreamy quality of her tone. 

"Yeah, was jus' telling Jeff all about all the fun we had with Jean-Pierre the other day," he teased, the green of his eyes glimmering with inside jokes they had tittered over in the marble halls. 

"He hasn't shut up about it for the past forty-eight hours, actually," Jeff chuffed, mirth in his eyes as he glanced at his friend, sipping from his wine, "I was hoping you could take him off my hands. At least you'd get all the jokes he's telling." 

"I don't know," (Y/N) shrugged, tension releasing from her muscles as she folded her arms over the surface of the table, "I don't get half the jokes he tells, either." 

Feigned offense piqued on Harry's features as he looked between them, mouth dropping open though he couldn't quite erase the slight curl on the corner of his mouth. With the single strand of hair that fell over his forehead, he looked entirely too dreamy in the middle of the French countryside. Once again, (Y/N) found herself grateful over the fact Priscilla hadn't caught him in his ivory ensemble—having a deep red wine stain on his suit would surely ruin the effect.

"Heyyy," he whined, a pouting crease forming between his pinched brows, "That's mean." 

"You've told the same jokes for the entire time I've known you, H," Jeff pressed, a fond smile on his face as he gazed at his friend though he didn't stop his teasing, "and every time you tell them, I still don't get it." 

Before Harry could interject any more pouting, (Y/N) chirped up with a matching quirk to her lips. "Yeah, he did tell the same joke twice at the museum. A little bit of a repeater, he is." 

"Oh, not you, too," Harry whined, dropping his head to be right in her line of sight. His smile was a little too bright, dimples a little too deep, eyes a little too clear to be convincingly offended. "You're supposed to be on m'side, (Y/N)." 

The sound of her name wrapped in his voice was something that echoed in her head for the last forty-eight hours since she'd seen him. "I am, he just has some good points. Sorry, Harry," she told him, speaking low enough as if she was sharing a secret with only Harry. 

Over the swirls of curls on the top of his head, (Y/N) could see the way Jeff was eyeing the interaction before adverting his eyes with a smirk on his lips before they were hidden by a cup of wine. 

"Y'could make it up to me, you know," he murmured to her, his folded hands coming up to smush against his tanned cheek, altering the layout of the soft smattering of freckles on the center of his face. 

"How?" 

"Save a dance for me." 

(Y/N) felt her lashes tickle her brow bone with the way her eyes widened, rounding and softening as she processed his request. She was sure that if someone showed her a recap of this moment, she would look like a moony teenager setting eyes on her crush for the first time. 

Swallowing around her suddenly dry throat, (Y/N) nodded her head. "I-I can do that." 

The way his grin stretched across his lips and the smallest dusting of pink coloring touched at the tip of his nose, could have had (Y/N) on a stretcher if not for the interruption that came in the form of one of the venue's staff tapping on her shoulder. 

"Ms. (Y/N)," the staff member greeted her with a tight smile that did little to sully her accented English, "The new Mrs. Davies is requesting your presence very urgently up in the bridal suite. If you wouldn't mind excusing yourself, I can escort you up right away." 

"Oh," (Y/N) sounded, deflating some at the fact she was going to have to leave Harry so quickly, "Okay, yeah. Give me just a second." 

The staff member gave her a strained smile, but nonetheless took a step back. She felt for the girl, really; Priscilla was a piece of work when she wanted to be and (Y/N) had a feeling she was walking into something gruesome in that bridal suite. 

Turning back to Harry, (Y/N) jerked a half-hearted thumb over her shoulder. "It sounds like I'm needed, so..." 

She trailed off, not wanting to be the one to say bye. Harry seemed to feel the same as he ducked his head, obscuring her view of him with the cover of his hair. "I'll see you later, though, right?" he prompted her once he matched her gaze again, the blushing green peeking through the length of his lashes. 

"Definitely," she cemented, taking the first reluctant step away from the table. Though her eyes lingered on Harry, she made a point to divert her gaze to her new friend of the day. "It was nice to meet you, Jeff." 

"Nice to meet you, too, (Y/N)," he offered politely, a sly smile stitched to his features she had a feeling wasn't going to dissipate. 

With one final wave, (Y/N) was beckoned by the staffmember back to the winery, hasty steps having (Y/N) all but tripping over herself to keep up. Just before slipping through the doorway, she couldn't help but toss a glance over her shoulder, finding Harry with his arms crossed over the cocktail table, grapeleaf-green eyes pinned to her. It took a matching of his gaze and a punch to his shoulder from Jeff before Harry came to his senses. In the waning light, his already golden skin was amplified, but (Y/N) could still see the tint of pink that dotted his cheeks and touched at the tip of his nose.

—————

"Thank you," (Y/N) muttered as she left the kitchen with a lukewarm plate that held her dinner she should have eaten hours ago. 

Trudging through the reception hall, music drifting through the room with the raucous laughter of both tipsy and sober guests clashing against the melody, (Y/N) couldn't decide if her head was going to pop first or if her feet would give out before then. She knew that wearing these heels gifted by Priscilla for her last birthday, red-bottom and all, wasn't going to be the most comfortable and arch-supporting idea, but that had been before she knew she was going to be more of a planner than a guest to this event. 

While Priscilla was spending treasured moments with her husband, both behind the bridal suite doors prior to the reception and in the guest-filled banquet hall, (Y/N) was filling every role she could to help. Fussing over Priscilla was a given, so carting glasses of wine back and forth and directing the photographer on what shots her boss had specially requested be taken was something she had prepared to do. But, it was when Nora was passed off to her during Priscilla and Nate's first dance, and never quite passed back once the toddler started having too much fun at a grown-up's table, that (Y/N) knew she wasn't to have a moment to herself for the rest of the night. Just when she thought she was in for a slight reprieve when dinner was served, something she could enjoy while also taking care of Lenore, Adelina, the wedding planner, had pulled her to the side. (Apparently, there was something awry with the wedding cake, but Priscilla didn't need to know about it if everyone wanted to keep their heads). That was how she ended up passing Nora off to her grandparents and her first course back to the kitchen staff, asking them to keep it warm for her so she could have it later, after she dealt with the tiered spongecake that had melting buttercream and slouching fondant decorations. 

It seemed that one favor she did, signed her up to be Adelina's assistant for the rest of the evening—or at least until everything settled down with only drinks and snacks being enjoyed among the guests. She was kept busy with every minute detail that began to run off the rails, things that didn't need to be shared with Priscilla but were much too important to leave alone. Even the photographer, the ever careful Frenchman who had the fear of God in his eyes every time he looked at Priscilla, had asked for her opinion more than once with (Y/N) practically directing the day's photos by the time ten-thirty rolled around. 

That was something else that tugged her muscles down by the root and threatened to drop her through the floorboards if her exhaustion grew any heavier. One of the perks of this venue—and the hefty deposit Priscilla made on the space—was the lack of clear out time. Wine and food were just the things to persuade guests into lingering on the property, which is exactly what they did, especially when additional courses of finger foods and desserts were brought from the kitchen and the bottles of wine and champagne were endlessly supplied by the vineyard. Looking out onto the dance floor and the semi-full tables surrounding the space, (Y/N) didn't see an end in sight.

But, Nora had been taken back to the hotel and tucked into bed by Nate's parents, leaving at least one responsibility off her plate. The photographer seemed to find his footing the more he realized Priscilla preferred her left-side and would enjoy any photograph of she and Nate kissing. Adelina had calmed down the second most of the traditions of the wedding were filed through—the garter-toss was one of the most nerve-wracking moments for some reason—as guests began reclining and holding separate courts at all the tables and others dotted the dancefloor to indulge in wine-induced dance moves. Priscilla had even settled well as she slow-danced with Nate, especially after changing into her third and final dress for the event, the fringed hem dropping to the mid of her thigh and sparkling under the romantic lighting draped across the rafters. (Y/N) lingered, on-edge, for an extra half-an-hour before finally treating herself with the task of picking up her food from the kitchen and settling in one of the back tables that had been vacated as children's bedtime had approached. 

With a barely filled glass of red wine and a lukewarm plate of pasta in front of her, (Y/N) dared to slip her shoes off under the table before folding her legs underneath herself. 

She didn't even know how long she had been menially scooping up her food, not even tasting the fine ingredients and expensive spices or how well they paired with her given wine, too exhausted to really process much other than finally having some subsistence in her body. That was why she barely noticed the knock of someone's knees against the underside of the table as they slipped into the spot beside her, the gentle voice having to call her name twice before she perked up. 

"Sorry, what did you need he—Oh, Harry," she smiled, pleased to see him when she had been expecting another person that needed her help. 

"Hi," he greeted her, the word coming out breathy and merlot-tinted. That would explain his messy hair and glassy eyes. The flush that tinted his skin looked perfect with his suit.

"Hi," she reciprocated with a small smile, "Have you been enjoying the reception?" She had a feeling she knew the answer to that one.

Nonetheless, the floppy nod Harry gave her, curls skimming his forehead, still made her heart bounce. "A lot," he told her on a breathy laugh, before his expression turned sour with a downturn to his lips, "But, y'said y'would dance with me, and I've barely seen you. Had to dance with Nathan's great-aunt five different times just to feel something." 

(Y/N) choked on the sip of wine she had tossed back while he spoke, clapping her hand over her mouth as she fought to keep from spitting it out. Once she recovered, a choked bunch of air filling her lungs, she shook her head at him. "I'm sure you did feel something," she teased, twirling a meaningless bite of pasta around her fork, "she's practically in love with you. I heard her talking to Priscilla's cousin all about you and how she was somehow going to fit you in her pocket and take you back to the hotel with her." 

"I wouldn't put it past her," Harry started grimly, fully believing Aunt Rosie's besotted threat. 

"And, I wouldn't blame her," (Y/N) muttered, the words falling out before she had any clarity of mind to stop them. 

A brilliant smile woke up Harry's grapejuice softened features. "Really? Want to take me home in your pocket, too, then?" 

Caught, (Y/N) didn't have it in her to pull her eyes from her plate of food though she shrugged in response. "I don't have any pockets, so I'll have to fit you in my tote if that's alright." 

"I can work with that," Harry shot back immediately, sitting up in his chair before scooting closer to (Y/N), folded arms settling on the table. "Do y'have extra room at your hotel, or will I have to sleep on the floor?" 

Her face felt hot as she couldn't help but take his intoxicated flirting right to her heart. "I don't have lots of space, but I'm sure I could figure something out for you." 

He seemed all too pleased with her response, bunny-teeth trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. Unable to draw her gaze away from his mouth, the very middle of the pillows tinted plum from the wine, (Y/N) draped her eyes over the faint freckles dotting the pink skin. Cute. 

"If you're not too busy still, maybe I could redeem m'promised dance once things slow down again?" Harry's voice was only a whisper that hung in the air between them, almost drowned out by the loud laugh that originated somewhere on the dance floor. 

"Yeah, yeah," she rushed out on a breath, hoping Harry wouldn't notice how eager she was to agree incase it was just as embarrassing as it sounded, "I would really like that." 

She would think she would be used to the look of his bright smile by now, with the amount of times she'd been granted the sight throughout this week, but it still threaten to knock the breath out of her to have it directed at her. 

"I'll keep an ear out, then," Harry told her, leaning back in his chair with his gaze going to the dance floor, staying true to his word of keeping watch, "Y'finish eating, though, before someone has a chance to steal y'away again, saying they need help with the music again or something. Barely had a chance to eat tonight." 

A pinch collected between her brows as she canted her head to the side. "How did you know I had to help with the music?" 

Another heart-stopping smile worked its way on Harry's lips though he kept his gaze attached to the dance floor. "I've been paying attention to you all night, (Y/N)."

—————

(Y/N) perked up at the change in tempo that sounded from the front of the banquet hall, a handful of couples still occupying the space while others were retiring to tables as the night drew on. Priscilla and Nate seemed to be in their own world wrapped in each others arms with no sense of time. But, for the first time in the last twenty minutes, their slowdancing finally matched the song that filtered through the speakers. 

Dropping her fourth glass of wine onto the table, the alcohol sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she clumsily stood up. "Harry, Harry, hurry," she bubbled off as she fumbled to put her shoes back on her feet, "We can't miss this one." 

"Miss what?" he asked lamely from where he sat, mouth dropping to a gape as he looked up at her. 

"The song—listen! We missed the last, like, three slow songs I think. We can't leave until I make it up to you for teasing you earlier." 

Harry's memory seemed to come back together at the mention of the song, his ears all but physically perking up for the time since he dropped the ball on his job of keeping an ear out for a suitable song to pull (Y/N) to the floor with. "Oh, yeah," he blinked, standing up with his knees knocking the table in his haste, "Get your shoes on. Hurry."

"I am, I am," (Y/N) badgered him, squishing her toes into the silk covered shoes. 

As soon as she was upright on the stilts of her heels, she grabbed for Harry's hand and tugged him to the dance floor. The other couples made a small space for them to join, even if they were clunky on their feet while others had sobered some through the night. (Y/N) tried to recall everything she remembered about slow dancing with a boy as best she could, middle-school rules coming to mind first as she placed her hands on the broad of his shoulders. A breathy laugh fell from her partner's lips as he tugged her closer, setting a gentle grip on her waist. 

"This alright?" he asked her, looking down at her with glassy eyes though that didn't fog the crystal green of his iris. 

"Yeah, thank you," she peeped, enjoying the press of his rings through her dress. "I should probably tell you I don't know how to do this, so I'm going to step on your feet at least twice." 

Harry didn't seem at all bothered by the shortcomings of his partner, instead dropping his head with a brush of his forehead against hers as he laughed. "I don't even think I'll notice." 

It was with that, Harry started swaying her off-beat, going against the grain of the rhythm the couples around them had curated. Neither of them paid it any mind, (Y/N) honestly not even noticing until she caught sight of Priscilla and Nate twirling out in a completely different flourish than what Harry had her doing.

"I think we're going the wrong way," (Y/N) whispered with a giggle, using her grip on Harry's shoulders to tug him down to her level. 

"Are we?" he beamed at her, not even daring to look around the floor, his eyes pinned her with no sign of removal. 

"Mhm," she hummed, biting back her smile despite the way it still stretched across her cheeks. 

The only movement of his eyes came as they dropped down the planes of her face, charting every dip and curve before settling on her lips for a lingering moment. "Should we change that?" 

"Maybe."

Just like the placing of her feet (though she'd only stepped on his toes once so far, that she knew of), (Y/N) wasn't even aware as she tugged him down with her grip on his shoulders, making his face level with her's for a breath. A skim of the tip of her nose against his was the final touch before she was pressing her lips to his. The wine they had shared from her glass was now sipped from each other's kiss, plummy and warm. (Y/N) drank from his lips as she sealed a kiss against his lips, tipping her head just right to get a little more of him without getting too ahead of herself in the middle of her boss's wedding. 

Harry's hands on her waist was the anchoring touch as they resorted to just soft sways out-of-time with the song picked by the DJ. Warm breaths that were exhaled out of his nose fanned across her skin, with every matching tilt of his head. He didn't want to pull away, that much she knew from the way he clung to her form and the shallowness of his breaths the longer they kissed. 

If not for their location, (Y/N) would have tried to figure out what the wine tasted like from his tongue. Instead, she forced herself to draw back, Harry following after her though he only managed to touch his forehead to hers. 

"My boss is over there, otherwise..." (Y/N) trailed off, her lashes threatening to tangle with his from the proximity. 

Something a little too smug curled at his lips. "Otherwise? I can work with otherwise." 

Just in time, the set changed, turning into something much more uptempo that had Harry dragging her from the dance floor. (Y/N) swore as they passed Priscilla and Nate that her boss gave her a raise of her brow and practically-staged glimmer in her eye. 

The privacy of their little table in the back washed over them as Harry made a point to drag her original seat to sit right beside his, the legs getting crossed over one another. That made it all too easy for him to drape her leg over his knee, just where he settled the warm palm of his hand. Now that the wall was broken, the flirting having opened a gateway with the kiss being the perfect key to get through, Harry didn't hesitate to touch over her skin. 

'When are you leaving Paris?" he asked her, his filter gone along with the boundary they had burned on the dancefloor.

Reorienting herself as she reached for her glass of wine, (Y/N) tried to remember what day it was. "I think I'll be here for another week or something. Pris and Nate want to have some of their honeymoon with Nora before I need to take her home and they can be newlyweds." 

He hummed as he took in her words, his tongue peeking out as he swiped the tip of it along the plush of his now swollen bottom lip. "Then, I'll leave in a week or something, too." 

(Y/N) blanched at his proposition, not quite following where he was going. "What?" 

"Y'won't have Lenore all the time, right?" (Y/N) shook her head. "Maybe those days, I can keep y'company instead. There's a lot of Paris I haven't seen yet, and 'm sure you've been too busy to explore either." 

Though she doubted that Harry Styles—world-touring recording artist who was known to slip away to foreign countries for weeks at a time without being spotted—had anywhere left in Paris to explore with her, the idea appealed to her nonetheless. It wasn't like the Louvre was the only art gallery and this winery the only vineyard. 

"Really?" 

Harry nodded his head with a set in his jaw. He was determined when he was tipsy. "'M sure we'd still see each other back home, but I don't think 'm ready to leave Paris if you're not going as well." 

The implication that he would still reach out to her once they stepped back on home soil, that he was sure they would see each other then no matter what, was enough to have a warmth hitting her features that the wine could only dream of inducing from her. 

"Ye-Yeah," she nodded, her heart bubbling in her chest, "I can let you know when Nora is with her parents and we can meet up. Maybe not tomorrow morning because I think I'm going to be a little hungover and exhausted, but everyday after that. If it's alright." 

The way he leaned across her draped legs, hand cradling the hinge of her jaw, an intoxicating kiss to her lips was enough of an answer. (Y/N) didn't bother to ask again even after he pulled away. 

Priscilla was going to have a field day with this. 

—————

ive had so many feelings and ideas about weddingrry for so long so im super happy I got to get some of them out w this one! thank you sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes! if you have any requests or ideas of your own please send them in!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry imagine #harry one shot #harry blurb #harry fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #love on tour #my policeman #harrys house #as it was #dont worry darling #late night talking #harryween #harry styles writing #harry writing

[erinkeifer]

ℕ𝕠𝕥 𝕞𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕕𝕖 - ℙ𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕀𝕍

[Anakin Skywalker x Padawan!Fem Reader]

Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 Not My Code Masterlist

Summary: When Anakin was away on missions, all you could do was miss him and work at the temple. Now, on the eve of your knighting ceremony, Anakin returned, very exhausted, but you didn't hesitate to comfort him in a very special way.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI | smut | rough oral sex (m!receiving) | face fucking | dom!Anakin | sub!Reader | kissing | cursing | mentions of injuries

Author note: I'm doing my best to make each part readable on its own, without knowledge of the previous ones, so no worries! If you don't want to catch up on the storyline, you can treat it as a one-shot!

Word Count: 4,2k

Though you won't admit it to anyone, you feel that as the ceremony approaches, your self-assurance is growing. The past few weeks have been difficult to endure - Anakin barely returned to the temple, and when he did, it was at night when you had no chance to see him. A few times, you communicated through comlinks, but he was never alone, so you waited very patiently.

However, contact with Anakin wasn't the only thing you lacked patience for during this time. Yesterday marked two weeks since you should have had your period, and if you hadn't gotten it today, your first meeting with Anakin after the separation would have been rather stressful.

Stepping out of the bathroom, a weight lifted off your heart - relieved of one worry, you walked to your wardrobe and chose one of your outfits that you had recently purchased.

In your spare time this week, you allowed yourself to spend a few credits in Coruscant, and since you had gazed at the luxurious boutique next to Luthen's antique shop, you decided to splurge a bit. You had always admired Mon Mothma's fashion, and when you discreetly observed her leaving that very shop during one of your missions, you took it as a true mark of quality.

One of your choices was a beautiful jumpsuit in a dark, iridescent purple, snug with a long, flowing overlay that embraced your shoulders, waist, and gently flared down, creating a gown-like effect. The bottom of it could be fastened, but today, you decided to leave it unfastened, revealing your legs adorned in the shimmering material and high, comfortable heeled shoes.

Leaving your quarters, you made sure your makeup looked flawless and ran your fingers through your unruly, long waves that majestically cascaded down your shoulders like a curtain.

The stretch of the corridor you were walking along, leaving your room, seemed empty, but just around the corner, you heard a familiar noise that piqued your curiosity.

"Hey there? Buddy?" you muttered under your breath, taking a few more steps forward before leaning out from behind a nearby pillar.

"Don't tell me you've been waiting here the whole time!" You smiled, placing your hands on your hips, catching your favorite droid hiding behind the wall. R2-D2 let out a series of chaotic beeps.

"I know, I know, I didn't hear you at all from behind the door." Thank goodness. At least you know Anakin's talk about soundproof rooms wasn't just hot air."

"Did you distribute everything? Didn't miss anyone?" you asked, to which R2 responded with affirmative beeps.

"Good job, my friend. You've earned my gratitude." You patted the droid on the head, and he beeped triumphantly.

With R2's response, you continued forward, walking at a calm pace toward the landing platform where Anakin and the crew would soon arrive. Your heart raced at the thought of reuniting with your master after weeks of waiting, but you tried to suppress any tension within you enough not to arouse any suspicions.

Riding the elevator with the friendly droid, you ascended one floor, and just a few seconds after entering another corridor, you heard familiar footsteps and voices.

"I think we all need a day off." you heard Rex say as he walked in the middle between Obi-Wan and Skywalker.

"Tell that to Master Yoda." Obi-Wan replied jokingly, and the three men laughed, but their eyes quickly landed on you as you walked slowly in their direction.

"Gentlemen." you nodded in greeting and smiled slightly, noticing a certain kind of surprise on their faces.

"Good morning, Ma'am. You're blooming!" Rex greeted, admiringly looking at you, and Anakin glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I have to agree with the Captain's words." Obi-Wan replied with a smile, which you immediately reciprocated.

"Thank you, General, thank you, Captain. It's a pleasure to finally see you. You too, Master." you said, standing tall, with your hands clasped behind your back, and your gaze finally landed on Anakin's eyes. Skywalker nodded, smiling at the corners of his mouth.

"Did you all receive invitations to tomorrow's ceremony? R2-D2 did his best to reach everyone." you asked with a smile, exchanging glances with the three of them.

"We all received them, and of course, we'll be there as a matter of duty. Thank you very much." Obi-Wan replied proudly, to which the rest of them smiled and nodded in agreement.

"I'm glad to hear that. I've heard rumors that your mission today was a success." you replied, wanting to show interest in what was happening around the temple.

"Absolutely. We're just heading to report with the Captain, and then, hopefully, it's time for some well-deserved rest." Kenobi answered, smiling warmly at Rex.

"And rightfully so. I've planned a very long day for tomorrow. Carry on with your duties, I won't keep you." you said, returning Kenobi's smile.

"General Skywalker, I assume that's all for today. We're leaving you with the Padawan." Rex replied before moving with Obi-Wan to the briefing room.

"Yes, I believe so. Give your report and head for some rest." Anakin responded, speaking for the first time during the conversation, and your gaze shifted toward him.

"Just don't kill each other." Kenobi quipped, turning in your direction as he and Captain Rex walked in the opposite direction of the corridor.

"We'll try." you sarcastically retorted, watching both men disappear from your sight.

"Hello, Master." you said to Skywalker when his friendly droid was the only one accompanying you.

"Hey." he responded with a warm tone, initially locking eyes with you, but after a moment, he looked you up and down.

You pretended not to notice his gaze, and though it was challenging to restrain a mischievous smile, you maintained a neutral expression. Anakin knelt down and glanced at his droid, almost as if checking to ensure that no harm had befallen him under your care.

"Missed him, did you?" you said, smiling at the sight of the Master and his faithful assistant.

"Thanks for looking after him." Anakin said, directing his gaze at you and then back at R2.

"It was a pleasure, as always. Besides, he performed quite well." you replied, still smiling.

"Was that so, R2? Did she do well too?" Anakin asked the droid, who beeped chaotically in response.

"All night? Seriously?" Skywalker retorted with feigned annoyance in his voice, turning his gaze to you and raising his eyebrows in surprise. Oh, shut up, you little troublemaker.

"Ooh, he came back in the night after distributing the invitations, and I was already asleep and didn't hear him through the door." you replied, narrowing your eyes at the droid who got you into this, to which Anakin smiled and stood up slowly.

"I'll punish her for that, I promise." he said, patting the droid on the head and pointing in the direction you both slowly started walking.

'I'll hold you to that promise.' you thought in your head as you walked alongside your two companions.

"Anyway, Master, I have two pieces of news: good and bad – which one do you want first?" you replied after a few silent steps, to which Anakin instantly sighed.

"Well, let's get the bad news out of the way first." he replied, turning his attention to you.

"So – it's not time for rest just yet. Yoda has planned a meeting with the younglings, and they're probably waiting for you already." Anakin sighed again and rolled his eyes.

"And the good news?"

"That's the last thing for today – unless the Separatists decide to change our plans – we're off duty for the rest of the day." You smiled, and Anakin's facial expression became slightly more optimistic.

"If you want, I can take R2 for a while, and you can deal with the younglings." you asked with a mischievous smile, subconsciously trying to avoid the tasks you didn't particularly enjoy.

"Oh no, not this time. You're coming with me. It's not just my show." Anakin immediately replied, knowing how much you would like to get out of it.

"Ouch." you muttered under your breath, and the expression on your face dropped.

"No sighing. Get it together, Padawan." Anakin smiled at the corners of his mouth and gave you a motivational nudge on the shoulder.

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

Perhaps it was supposed to be your joint 'show,' but Anakin certainly struggled more with it. After the training and a long series of presenting new techniques along with answering the kids' questions, the group thanked both of you, and it was time for a well-deserved rest.

"I don't know about you, but I feel like I've been through the wringer." Anakin said, closing the training room door behind you.

Before leaving, you managed to tidy up, collect the props that had been brought from another location, and basically, all that was left was to return them to where they were taken from and head to your respective quarters.

"A bit better, but only a bit. After all, I wasn't the one on a mission today." you smiled, watching Anakin turn the key.

"Uh, right. This way." Skywalker directed, and you headed towards the storage room for training props.

The setting sun tinted the sky with a purple hue, and the temple was beautifully illuminated at this time, feeding your gaze with a beautiful view until you descended to the covered rooms one floor below, where the storage room awaited you. Soon, you emptied your hands there.

"I guess that's it." Anakin said, shaking off his hands and leaning against the wall in the dark room.

"I guess so." you replied, shrugging. Finally, you left the dingy room and closed the door behind you, heading in opposite directions.

"You should go and rest, and I... Well, I guess the first thing is to wash this off me." you said, turning away from Anakin, standing with your back to him. Your hands were dirty from the dust, and even your face had some unwanted spots that you gained inadvertently by touching it.

"Not just you." Anakin replied, pointing to the muddy traces on his clothes and skin.

"On me?" he added after a moment, and you didn't fully understand what he meant by that.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

"We can go to my place. Your quarters are on the other side of the Temple, mine's practically around the corner." Anakin clarified, and a green light lit up in your mind. You absolutely didn't want to finish this day alone, and truth be told, you were secretly hoping for it.

"Lead the way." you smiled, and without adding anything else, you headed towards Anakin's quarters, accompanied by R2, who was still with you.

Well, Anakin wasn't lying at all – his quarters were less than a minute away from the storage room, and as soon as you reached the door, you felt a certain kind of tension within you.

You remembered this place; you had been here for a moment when, a few years ago, at Kenobi's command, you had to find Anakin due to a sudden call from the crew. You recalled how much Skywalker didn't want you here – and what stuck in your memory the most was the sight of a woman, none other than Padmé Amidala. That day, you learned about their relationship, but that's already history.

"Come on in, feel free." Anakin's voice snapped you out of the flood of memories, and in the blink of an eye, you returned to reality. With slow steps, you entered the room, and behind you came your Master's friendly droid – well, at least it attempted to enter.

"R2, do me a favor, buddy." Skywalker said to the droid, who directed its indicators toward him as if it started to listen attentively.

"Stay outside and keep an eye in case someone unwanted would be lurking around, okay?" Anakin requested, to which the droid beeped in agreement and retreated behind the door.

"Thanks." he smiled and slowly closed the quarters' door.

Wait, didn't Anakin mention once that on his stretch of the corridor, nobody really hangs around because there's no reason to? Hm, anyway...

His quarters weren't just ordinary quarters. You stood in a spacious, beautifully, albeit somewhat dimly, decorated apartment with a kitchen, living room, bathroom, and a terrace – the latter particularly catching your attention.

The beautifully situated terrace revealed the best view of the cityscape, and in its secluded corner, there was a bar and a large jacuzzi, ingeniously incorporated into the robust structure of the building. On the other side of the terrace, you could see the balconies of guest apartments, which at the moment exuded emptiness.

Well... It's impressive.

"Today's a bit too cold for that." Anakin spoke from behind you as he saw you looking at the outdoor jacuzzi.

"But I can invite you in here." he added after a moment, gesturing for you to follow him, and headed to the bathroom. It was much more spacious than yours – besides the shower, there was also a bathtub, and frankly, you didn't know what you'd prefer for today.

Once both of you were inside, Anakin closed the door behind you and without hesitation began to remove his robes.

"Shit." he muttered under his breath, and you quickly noticed that his issue was with the fabric stuck to a wound, which, when pulled off, caused quite some discomfort.

"Let me..." you reached for his robes to do it more gently and as painlessly as possible.

"Well, at least somewhat lighter than last time..." you remarked, revealing rather fresh, though less extensive, wounds on his chest. It was worse when it came to bruises – you weren't surprised he felt like he'd been through the wringer.

"Have you checked this in the Med Bay? Something might be fractured..." you asked, looking with concern at the purplish marks on Skywalker's body.

"Nah, nothing major. Thanks." he replied, taking back his robes from you and tossing them into the laundry basket.

You weren't sure whether to start undressing yourself; you were sore too, though not for the same reasons as Anakin, and frankly, you didn't know how to tell him that today, there wouldn't be anything 'interesting' happening.

Skywalker, on the other hand, didn't hesitate to remove his pants and boxers, then took two towels from the hanger, tossing one in your direction.

"Won't you join?" he asked, stepping into the shower cabin. Finally, you tore your eyes away from the mirror where you examined your slightly stained face, and had to admit it to yourself again – his body was intimidating.

Your heart raced faster, and though you didn't know what to say, you took off the upper part of your jumpsuit, standing in front of Anakin in just tight pants. Skywalker scanned your bare chest, and before – as usual – you instinctively began to cover yourself, he pulled you into the – still dry – shower cabin.

"Still got that same tic, sunshine?" he whispered, standing very close, his face near yours, taking your waist in a strong grip.

"You have no idea what you did to me in this... outfit." he continued, bringing his face to your ear.

"But you know what's wrong?" he murmured, gently tilting your chin in his direction with a slight movement of his hand.

"That I haven't ripped the rest of your clothes off yet."

At that moment, you felt your back forcefully collide with the wall, and you let out a slight hiss, not even noticing when Anakin's hands reached for the zipper of your pants.

"Anakin, please, wait..." Although Skywalker's hands trembled with desire, your dramatic tone halted his further movements, and his eyes landed on yours.

"I... I can't." you said with a hint of disappointment in your voice.

"Why?"

"You know... I'm bleeding." you blushed, trying to gently withdraw Anakin's hands from your zipper.

"Darling, you know I really don't have a prob..." he started, but you quickly interrupted him,

"I know, but... Somehow I can't. And it hurts a bit too much..." you replied, and only after a moment did you process in your mind the term Anakin used to address you – 'Darling'... You felt like melting for a moment.

"I can leave your underwear on if that's okay with you, but just be here with me, okay?" he suggested.

"I mean... You can take everything off; I'm protected... We just won't..."

"Okay, sure..." he replied, and following your words, he slid your pants and underwear off.

When all the clothes were lying on the floor, Anakin closed the shower cabin's door and gently let the water flow. In the first moments, he didn't move, just watched. He watched as your body became increasingly wet and shimmered with water droplets falling onto it.

You made the first move, gently embracing him at the waist and nestling into the wet strands of hair falling on his shoulders. Soon, however, you felt as if some demon had awakened in Skywalker – his strong arms gripped you around the waist and turned you towards the wall, so you collided with it with your breasts, while Anakin pressed his body against yours from behind.

"You have no idea... Damn... You have no idea how you would fight for survival on this wall if I could fuck you right now." he muttered into your ear with a hoarse, needy voice, colliding with your body and simultaneously pressing you against the wall.

"You'd have worse bruises than mine, you know that???" You responded only with soft moans, feeling how his words ignited you from within. Suddenly, he turned your body back to face him.

"Kiss me." he whispered, and you didn't hesitate, just pressed your wet lips against his. The kiss lingered; when you ran out of breath, you pulled away for a second, so he could slip his tongue back into your mouth after a while.

Moment by moment, it became increasingly sloppy, and your hands wandered chaotically over each other's bodies. Soon, you parted your lips from each other—only a thin thread of your saliva separated them.

You looked at him and saw how painfully hard he was; you gently touched his lower abdomen when he didn't take his eyes off you.

"How can I take care of you?" you whispered, returning your gaze to your Master, who took a moment to think.

"Kneel."

One word was enough for you to start feeling like your heart was about to leap out of your chest. Without breaking eye contact with Anakin, you complied with his request and slowly bent down on your knees, ultimately kneeling before him on the wet shower floor.

He smiled at the corners of his mouth as his hand caressed your face, and his fingers traced a ticklish path across your cheeks. Finally, one of his fingers began to wander over your lips, eventually stopping and gently parting them.

"Open your mouth."

Obediently, you did as your master commanded, and although you expected something different, Anakin inserted two fingers into your mouth. Without taking his eyes off you, he slid them in as deep as possible, as if testing you.

He watched attentively every one of your grimaces, and the longer he looked, the more painful his desire became. When he 'prepared' your lips and felt he was on the edge, he withdrew his fingers from your mouth and pivoted his body closer, almost touching his length to your face.

"Do it for me." he whispered, and you swallowed saliva, wanting to please him in the best possible way but also fearing you wouldn't handle his massive size. To start, you wanted to assist yourself with your hands—placing them at the base—but he gently set them aside.

"For now, just your mouth, please." he muttered, and you nodded, placing your hands on his hips, trying not to squeeze too tightly around the bruised areas.

Finally, you took a deep breath and enveloped the tip of his erection with your lips, suctioning and teasing it lightly with your tongue. Anakin hissed softly, feeling the touch of your lips on his throbbing, sensitive point, while you gradually tried to test your boundaries.

You pressed your lips against his shaft and began maneuvering them with a sliding motion, so far unable to reach even halfway. Anakin's quiet moans were music to your ears, motivating you to maintain your pace—a pace he thought he had already outlined in his wicked plan.

Soon, you felt his trembling but strong fingers grabbing your hair, first with his mechanical hand, then adding the other, initially without applying pressure.

The sound of his deep, increasingly rapid breaths, the gentle stream of water, and the wet sound of your lips sliding along his length filled your ears—enough to make you feel ecstatic, but at the same time, you felt a blockage. You were afraid of choking, afraid of embarrassing yourself, and he knew it all along, piercing you not only with his gaze but also with his mind.

"D-do you remember what I said when we were heading to training?" he muttered above you, and you released him from your mouth for a moment to look at him questioningly.

"Do you mean..." you began to wonder, but he didn't let you.

"I promised to punish you." Hearing his words, you could simultaneously see something beastly awakening in him, and his dilated pupils buried in you widened.

"Take it." he growled, and you repositioned your mouth as before, continuing what you hadn't finished. Suddenly, you felt the pressure of his hands on your head, and your mouth filled even more.

Your eyes narrowed more and more, and your lips grew numb as his wicked smile spread across his face. Taking one of his hands off your head, he patted your cheek when you involuntarily crossed over half of his length, and tears welled up in your eyes. You thought you could somehow adjust your throat to him, but all that remained for you was to accept your fate when suddenly he began to fulfill what he desired so much. He thrust straight into your throat.

For a moment, it felt like you were falling apart, and when he did it a second time, the tears accumulated in your eyes instantly splashed onto your cheeks.

"Oh my... Fuck!" Anakin almost shouted, feeling how hopelessly you clenched onto him.

You were so overwhelmed by the intense sensation that it belatedly occurred to you that you were practically choking. Impulsively, you pulled away from Anakin, somehow overpowering the grip of his hands, but he still wasn't as strong as he planned.

"Don't even think..." he growled, thrusting again into your mouth, but before this—fortunately—you managed to quickly take a deep breath.

"Keep going... Just a bit more... -Fuck... A little more." he muttered, breathing heavily and trembling with excitement, watching you take his thrusts painfully.

You whimpered, choking on his length, and he fucked your face until your lips reached the very base. As he felt your trembling hands digging into his bruised hips, his loud moans mixed with growls, punishing you for it, pressing you against him so hard that he didn't even consider that you might vomit at any moment.

"I'm... Oh fuck... Oh f-fuck." Anakin began to choke on his own voice as he felt his orgasm approaching, and his back forcefully hit the shower wall as he tried to maintain balance.

His hands were numb as he climaxed, so when he didn't press you so hard anymore, you helped yourself with your hands, jerking him with great force until you finally felt his warm cum filling your mouth. His own throat muffled the screams he could have let out—he groaned and panted above you with clenched eyes until he emptied himself completely. When he finished, he grabbed the wall next to him to gain any balance.

You slumped hopelessly onto the wet shower floor, trying to catch your breath. Your makeup was smeared, and mascara ran down your face in numerous teary streaks. Both of you were detached from the galaxy at that moment—you had no strength for anything, not even to simply leave the shower. After a few minutes of regaining your breath, Anakin slowly turned off the water tap, and the only sound that reached his ears at that moment was your—still quite rapid—breathing.

When he felt less numb, he opened the shower door and, smoothing your back beforehand, carried you out of the cabin. You calmed down, feeling his pulsating chest so closely, and without saying anything—without even having the strength—you simply waited for the next scenario.

Exiting the bathroom, he immediately guided you towards the spacious bed that awaited just around the corner, and the next thing you felt was the touch of a soft mattress.

After gently placing you on the bed, Anakin handed you a blanket, which he eventually decided to spread himself. Before lying down, he sat beside you, smiling at the corners of his mouth at the sight of your exhausted face.

"Now it's time to rest."

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[miguelswifey04]

sweetheart

sugar daddy! miguel x sugar baby! reader

CW: established relationship, fluff, slight nsfw but not explicit just more so fluffy <3

a/n: i know everyone is hooked on dbf! miguel but i cannot let go of sugar daddy! miguel soooo, here’s a little drabble of my continuation of sugar daddy! miguel who loves to spoil his baby <3

with a charming smile, miguel took your hand, leading you into a luxurious penthouse that he had reserved for the two of you. the room was adorned with elegant furnishings, a testament to his desire to provide the best for you.

“my love, this suite is just a small token of my appreciation for you," he whispered, his voice laced with adoration. "i want to spoil you, to make you feel cherished and adored."

you felt a warmth spread through your heart, overwhelmed by the tenderness and affection miguel expressed. this was far more than a materialistic offering; it was an expression of his devotion to you.

throughout your time together, miguel made it his mission to anticipate your wants and needs, ensuring that you lacked nothing. he surprised you with thoughtful gifts, each one carefully chosen to reflect your interests and desires.

the nights spent together were filled with passion and intimacy as miguel poured his affection upon you. he reveled in exploring your body, making it his personal mission to bring you pleasure and fulfill your every desire.

his touch was both tender and possessive, his kisses eager and passionate. he delighted in the sensation of your skin beneath his, your bodies entwined in a dance of ecstasy. with each intimate moment, he made sure you felt cherished and wanted, knowing that your pleasure was his greatest satisfaction.

beyond the physical, miguel was always there to lend a listening ear and offer support. he listened intently as you shared your dreams and concerns, providing words of encouragement and guidance. he guided you through all your endeavors and your goals no matter what it took for you to reach them.

in public, he held your hand proudly, demonstrating to the world that you were his and that he adored you endlessly. he introduced you to new experiences and places, ensuring that you felt a sense of adventure and fulfillment by his side. miguel loves to take you to a high-end boutique, urging you to choose whatever your heart desires. you browse through racks of designer clothes, shoes, and accessories, feeling the excitement of indulgence. miguel’s smile widens as he sees the joy on your face with each new purchase, delighting in the ability to spoil you.

the affectionate gestures were never in short supply with miguel. from gentle kisses on the forehead to spontaneous surprises, he made sure you knew how much you meant to him. he showered you with affection and whispered sweet nothings, making your heart skip a beat.

———

a/n: ngl i love soft miguel over possessive miguel heheh <3

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x y/n #spider person #spidersona #sugar daddy miguel #sugar baby reader

[novelizt]

THE COMPLICATIONS OF A FAKE ENGAGEMENT 2 ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART ONE

GENRE ➺ fluff

SYNOPSIS ➺ lockwood buys a wedding dress for you and he doesn't explain why.

WARNINGS ➺ verbal fighting and an angry confession

DISCLAIMER ➺ i haven't read the books so the characterization/alignment with the canonical story may not line up, and there's so much cheese i might as well become a fromager.

NOTES ➺ this isn't really a series but i felt like giving them a happy ending at least. shoutout to @simrah1012 who asked for a sequel! thank you for your support!

He reserved the dress. After all that talk of cutting down expenses this month, he had it reserved. That was a check every month you (read: he) couldn't pay for it full-price. There was no room for negotiation when he wore his thinking face. So, you refrained from chewing him out in the presence of Kelly.

Your silence meant a storm was brewing. He knew better than to poke the bear. Honestly, you were just thinking of how to go about it. How to ask him why he chose to reserve the dress rather than discard it.

The reason you were there had been dealt with. You had the evidence linking the boutique to the investigation. Why the expenditure? It was like an itch that wouldn't go away. It bugged you. Guilted you. Kept you up at night for a week straight.

Even now when your eyes are burning into the back of his head, you couldn't put yourself into his headspace and understand why.

"You should consider getting a camera, pictures last longer."

You straighten in your seat, ears burning. The same boyish smile he used to get out of trouble flashes in your direction and that confirms to you that he knows what you're thinking.

"Idiot," you say.

His fingers loosen around his book. "Pardon?"

"Yeah, I'd like to know why Lockwood is an idiot as well," George says, breaking into the conversation, cozying into his chair with a tight-lipped smile.

It wasn't uncommon for you to humble Lockwood. George had turned it into his favorite pass time. Considering the two-person mission last week, he wanted to know what exactly warranted the blistering insult.

Sensing his anticipation, Lucy grew curious. She lays her magazine on her lap and fixes her sit. "I'd like to know, too."

"Bit unfair, isn't it?" Lockwood says dryly.

"It's private," you say. The defining tilt of your head and the scrunch of your brows made George and Lucy attentive enough. "You two mind? We'll see you for dinner."

"'Course," George chirps. He shoved his papers under his armpit and headed for the door. Lucy followed begrudgingly. George waves over his shoulder before closing it. "Don't kill him, y/n. Or do. Whichever you feel."

"See you at dinner!" Lucy adds before the click of the lock confirms that you had gotten the privacy you asked for.

You round on Lockwood to find that he was setting up to leave too.

"Client asked–"

"You can respond later," you dismiss.

He presses his lips together, likely coming up with another bollucks excuse to make an exit. But he also knows you, and he knows there is no leaving. So, he comes up with an alternate route;

"y/n," he says, tone on the brink of scolding you.

It doesn't work. Evidently.

You scoff, folding your arms. "You don't get to talk to me like that. Why did you reserve the dress? That was completely unnecessary-"

"No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was!" You pinch your jacket to keep your tone from escalating any further. You wanted to fight. You wanted to fight with him, not against him, but your confusion had boiled to anger and frustration. "We're neck deep in debt and that dress will cost a fortune to pay for and- and-" you lost your voice for a moment. "And it's not like I'll be marrying anyone."

"You will," he says with certainty. "And you'll make someone very happy, y/n."

"But not now! Not at a time like this, Lockwood. Paying for it is more of a burden-"

"Not when it comes to you."

You lunge forward, fisting the his shirt with an intensity that turns your knuckles white. "Will you listen to yourself? Why would you even think of doing that?"

His hand lands on top of yours, gentle and kind. He was warmer than you, always has been. But there's something new in the way he squeezes your hands. He doesn't take your hands off him, simply letting his rest on top of yours. "We take care of each other." He says it like you don't know it already.

"We always do," you agree, lapsing into a calmer tone. It doesn't take away from the guilt eating at you. "But we could have used that money for the house. Or George. Or Lucy." For family, in essence.

His lips tip up, very slight and with a feel of melancholy. "But we don't always know what's going to happen. I could disappear tomorrow–"

"I won't allow that."

He chuckles, brightening at your defiance. "What I mean to say is," his other hands drifts to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. After that, his hand stops under your ear, resting against your jaw. "Getting you that dress is a heartfelt favor if the worst comes to pass. I still want to be a part of an important day of your life." His voice quivers ever so slightly. Lockwood tried to mask it was a cough but you had already heard, and you weren't blind, you know that look. "This is my way of taking care of you."

Your grip on his shirt loosens, grasping the wrist of the hand touching your face. "I'd rather have you than that overpriced dress."

He offers a lazy smile. "Don't lie. I saw how you were looking at your reflection."

Your hold on his wrist tightens, your frown grows deeper. "How was I looking at my reflection?"

"Like you were seeing a dream come true." Kind of like how he looked at you, if you had taken the time to acknowledge it.

You scoff. "And you were thinking about my wedding day, without you in it?"

"I think of you first. I promised." He knew that wasn't the right answer.

"Unbelievable." You shove him away. Hugging yourself and backing away until your leg hits the edge of a couch. "You talk and take risks as if no one will miss you. If you want to be there for me, take care of yourself so you can actually show up!"

"It's not that easy," he responds, empty hands falling to his side. He even turns away, and his refusal to even face you fans the flames once more. "You..."

"I what?" you take a step closer, daring him to finish what he was saying.

He faces you and you're taken aback by the glint of tears edging his brown eyes. They stick to his lashes, on the edge of falling and staining his cheeks, but he's Lockwood, so he blinks to keep it in. It breaks your heart even more.

"You deserve better," he whispers. Some part wishes you didn't hear, but he knows you did.

He's quiet as your mouth falls open and tears appear in your eyes. His nails dig into his palm to keep himself from sweeping you into his arms; Invisible shackles chain him to his spot, leaving him to watch as you cover your mouth and cry.

Even then, your eyes shine with anger. Your wipe at your cheeks furiously, turning your skin red. "How could you say that?"

"Because it's true." He regains the feeling in his limbs but they feel like jelly as he drunkenly motions the world around you. "Everything in this house is old and outdated and covered in dust! You have suitors that own pristine, marble houses without a speck or memories that make you cry. One day, you could live there instead of here, and you'd be happier because you've always wanted a big, bright house."

Your nails dig into your arms, jaw tight with tension. "This is home, Lockwood! I wouldn't change Portland Row for the biggest castle in England. You would know that if you just asked me." You took a shuddering breath. "And yes, maybe I'd be happy in those houses I talked about when I was seven but I've grown older, just as you have, and I know what really matters to me now. If I wanted those fantasies you expect of me, I would have accepted some richman's proposal. But I didn't, because you scare them away and I know you know I wouldn't have left even if they had asked me. But for the sake of it, I need to ask; If you wanted to send me away so badly, why haven't you?"

"Are you blind?" He shakes his head in disbelief. After all that, he has to spell it out for you. "Because I love you!"

For ten seconds, all you can hear is your breathing. The climb of emotions coming to a crescendo as you walk to him. He meets you in the middle and your arms come around him; his come around you, and finally, you kiss.

When you break for air, he holds fast to you. His forehead on yours like parting would hurt. "I don't want to lose you," he confesses, his eyes staying closed. "And I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn't in the picture–"

"I want you there," you say pointedly. Like your statement could beat away the rest of the doubt swirling in his head. "I want you. I want you and me, together. I don't want to lose you just as much as you don't want to lose me."

He pulls you closer, until you can feel his heart beat in sync with yours. "I love you." He says, and it sets him free. "You're my best friend."

"Always have been, always will be." That's a promise you press onto his lips. You bring his hand to your lips and place a kiss on his bruised knuckle.

He smiles for real and you can't help but copy. "I'm supposed to do that," he complains.

"Too slow," you laugh. You brush your nose against his and feel his hand settle on the small of your back. "I love you."

He laughs and it tickles your lips.

"Pinch me, I'm dreaming." You oblige and he yelps. "Not literally, y/n."

"No pet name?"

"No. I like your name."

"Yeah?"

He ghosts his lips over yours, unable to stop smiling. "Yeah. However," he switches to that tone that makes you want to strangle him sometimes. "We have got to tackle the issue of your last name. It doesn't go that well with your first."

"How do you propose we fix that?" Both your arms drape over his shoulder, playing with the overgrown hair at his nape.

"Well, I'll attend your wedding and we get it changed."

"Changed to what?" You tilt your head and laugh when he angles his to chase you.

"Mine, of course," he proclaims proudly. His smile is so wide you notice the blush on his cheeks now, it makes you weak in the knees.

Still, you can't help but tease. "That would be confusing for Lucy and George though. We'd both be turning our heads when they say 'Lockwood'."

"Now that problem is one I dream of coming true."

He steals a yelp from you as he dips you, enjoying how you cling to his shoulders before he lowers his head and finally catches your lips.

—

"Cheesy," George shudders. He and Lucy had heard the loudest parts of the argument from the kitchen, including Lockwood's long awaited confession.

"I find it sweet," Lucy shrugs, turning a page of her magazine. "But then I remember it's Lockwood and y/n and cringe as well."

"Oh, Luce, I haven't even considered that they'd get even worse."

"What do you mean?"

George points his wooden spoon at Lucy. "If the pair or them pining was bad enough, we have to see them–" he gulps, like the idea was scarier than the Red Room. "–be in love."

Both shuddered.

🦋 ⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

#— ❨ 🌺 ❩ 𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐙𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐔𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐀 ₊˚.༄ #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood x y/n #lockwood x you #lockwood and co x reader #anthony lockwood

[cool-fancier]

A Day Of Rest

Platonic BEBE x Reader

Synopsis: You planned a pampering, shopping, and karaoke day for you and the girls. Laughter and smiles strengthened your friendship, leaving everyone refreshed and grateful.

Minah, Bada, Lusher, Kyma, Tatter, Cheche, and Soweon have been struggling as an outcome of the Street Woman Fighter competition.  The lengthy hours of rehearsals and intense dancing duties had exhausted them all physically and mentally. You couldn't stand seeing them so tired as their best friend, so you thought it was time for a girls' day out to help them rest and unwind.

You called each of the girls one sunny morning and invited them to join you for a day of pampering and fun. They all agreed excitedly, and you could sense the joy in their voices as they enjoyed the break from the tough competition.

You were the first to arrive at Minah's house, greeted by her tired but bright smile. She'd been practising a difficult choreography , and her body was feeling the strain. "I can't believe you're doing this for us," she said as you hugged her.

"You deserve it," you said back. "We're going to have a great time, and I promise you'll feel refreshed by the end of it."

The entire group soon gathered at Minah's house, and laughing and talking filled the air. Bada, Lusher, Kyma, Tatter, Cheche, and Soweon were all thrilled about the upcoming day. They were aware that they needed a break, and you were determined to give them the best girls' day out they'd ever had.

Your first destination was the nail salon, where you had all made appointments to have your nails done. Each of your friends chose a distinct style, and the salon was buzzing with enthusiasm and relaxation. The nail professionals gave you all with attention, and the girls were speechless about how much they needed it.

Bada, in particular, had picked a design that consisted of her passion for dance, and she couldn't take her eyes away from her nails. "This is exactly what I needed," she murmured, gratefully looking up at you.

You went to a spa for pedicures after leaving the manicure salon. You couldn't help but notice the transformation in the group as you all relaxed in luxurious chairs. Their worn faces had been replaced by smiles and a sense of calmness.  The competition's stress had temporarily vanished replaced by utter peace.

Kyma, who had been experiencing the strain from the competition, sighed blissfully.  "I didn't realise how much I needed this," she confessed. "Thank you for doing all of this Y/N unnie, you're the best."

The rest of the day was spent shopping. You led them around boutiques and stores, encouraging them to choose something they liked. Each of them found  a unique object that made them grin. Sowoen even found a unique set of sunglasses that she couldn't help but try on, causing the entire group to burst out laughing.

The relationship between you and your girls became stronger over the day. The shared pampering and shopping experiences, along with the opportunity to enjoy one other's company without the pressure of competitiveness, provided a genuinely reassuring sense of friendship.

Tatter, who had been struggling with injuries from her dance missions, seemed to have forgotten her pain for the day. "This is exactly what I needed," she exclaimed, her face beaming with delight. "I can't thank you enough for this unnie, it means the world to me."

You all decided to go to a near park after a delicious meal at a cosy restaurant. The weather was shining brightly, and you had brought a picnic basket with of your friends' favourite snacks. The park became a haven of calm, with everyone sitting on a giant blanket, telling stories and eating snacks.

Lusher, who had been pushing herself to the edge during the competition, rested back on her elbows and took in the scenery. "I can't remember the last time I felt this relaxed," she admitted, tears welling up in her eyes.

The day was coming to an end, but you had one more surprise in store for them. You had booked a private room at a karaoke bar, knowing that it was a popular activity among your friends. Their cheeks lit up with enthusiasm the instant they walked into the room and noticed the microphones.

Bada, who was known for her loud voice, was the first to reach for a microphone. The girls joined in as she sang out a song, and the room filled with laughter and music. They sang their hearts out, forgetting all the competition's stress and worries.

Kyma, who is recognised for her dynamic stage presence, had everyone in stitches with her hilarious performance. The karaoke session was the ideal way to cap off the day, allowing the others to let loose and have a good time.

As the night drew to a the end, you took each of the girls to their houses. They all appeared to be more comfortable and revitalised, with a fresh lightness in their steps.

Sowoen gave you a warm hug. "I have no words for how thankful I am for today. It was exactly what we needed unnie."

Lusher agreed, saying, "You're an amazing friend, and we're lucky to have you in our lives."

You said your goodbyes with hugs and smiles, happy and grateful that you could bring some joy and relaxation into the lives of your dear friends. It had been a day of fun, a connection, and relaxation —a day that everyone will remember fondly.

You couldn't help but smile as you drove back home. Your friends had earned a break and it was enjoyable to see them happy and comfortable. The friendship between you had become even deeper, and everyone will cherish the memories of this girls' day out. It was a good day, and you knew you'd always be there for your pals, no matter what difficulties they encountered.

#street woman fighter x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bebe #bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #lusher #minah #che che #kyma #tatter #Sowoen