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dykepuffs · 2 months

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How Do I Make My Fictional Gypsies Not Racist?

(Or, "You can't, sorry, but…")

You want to include some Gypsies in your fantasy setting. Or, you need someone for your main characters to meet, who is an outsider in the eyes of the locals, but who already lives here. Or you need a culture in conflict with your settled people, or who have just arrived out of nowhere. Or, you just like the idea of campfires in the forest and voices raised in song. And you’re about to step straight into a muckpile of cliches and, accidentally, write something racist.

(In this, I am mostly using Gypsy as an endonym of Romany people, who are a subset of the Romani people, alongside Roma, Sinti, Gitano, Romanisael, Kale, etc, but also in the theory of "Gypsying" as proposed by Lex and Percy H, where Romani people are treated with a particular mix of orientalism, criminalisation, racialisation, and othering, that creates "The Gypsy" out of both nomadic peoples as a whole and people with Romani heritage and racialised physical features, languages, and cultural markers)

Enough of my friends play TTRPGs or write fantasy stories that this question comes up a lot - They mention Dungeons and Dragons’ Curse Of Strahd, World Of Darkness’s Gypsies, World Of Darkness’s Ravnos, World of Darkness’s Silent Striders… And they roll their eyes and say “These are all terrible! But how can I do it, you know, without it being racist?”

And their eyes are big and sad and ever so hopeful that I will tell them the secret of how to take the Roma of the real world and place them in a fictional one, whilst both appealing to gorjer stereotypes of Gypsies and not adding to the weight of stereotyping that already crushes us. So, disappointingly, there is no secret.

Gypsies, like every other real-world culture, exist as we do today because of interactions with cultures and geography around us: The living waggon, probably the archetypal thing which gorjer writers want to include in their portrayals of nomads, is a relatively modern invention - Most likely French, and adopted from French Showmen by Romanies, who brought it to Britain. So already, that’s a tradition that only spans a small amount of the time that Gypsies have existed, and only a small number of the full breadth of Romani ways of living. But the reasons that the waggon is what it is are based on the real world - The wheels are tall and iron-rimmed, because although you expect to travel on cobbled, tarmac, or packed-earth roads and for comparatively short distances, it wasn’t rare to have to ford a river in Britain in the late nineteenth century, on country roads. They were drawn by a single horse, and the shape of that horse was determined by a mixture of local breeds - Welsh cobs, fell ponies, various draft breeds - as well as by the aesthetic tastes of the breeders. The stove inside is on the left, so that as you move down a British road, the chimney sticks up into the part where there will be the least overhanging branches, to reduce the chance of hitting it.

So taking a fictional setting that looks like (for example) thirteenth century China (with dragons), and placing a nineteenth century Romanichal family in it will inevitably result in some racist assumptions being made, as the answer to “Why does this culture do this?” becomes “They just do it because I want them to” rather than having a consistent internal logic.

Some stereotypes will always follow nomads - They appear in different forms in different cultures, but they always arise from the settled people's same fears: That the nomads don't share their values, and are fundamentally strangers. Common ones are that we have a secret language to fool outsiders with, that we steal children and disguise them as our own, that our sexual morals are shocking (This one has flipped in the last half century - From the Gypsy Lore Society's talk of the lascivious Romni seductress who will lie with a strange man for a night after a 'gypsy wedding', to today's frenzied talk of 'grabbing' and sexually-conservative early marriages to ensure virginity), that we are supernatural in some way, and that we are more like animals than humans. These are tropes where if you want to address them, you will have to address them as libels - there is no way to casually write a baby-stealing, magical succubus nomad without it backfiring onto real life Roma. (The kind of person who has the skills to write these tropes well, is not the kind of person who is reading this guide.)

It’s too easy to say a list of prescriptive “Do nots”, which might stop you from making the most common pitfalls, but which can end up with your nomads being slightly flat as you dance around the topics that you’re trying to avoid, rather than being a rich culture that feels real in your world.

So, here are some questions to ask, to create your nomadic people, so that they will have a distinctive culture of their own that may (or may not) look anything like real-world Romani people: These aren't the only questions, but they're good starting points to think about before you make anything concrete, and they will hopefully inspire you to ask MORE questions.

First - Why are they nomadic? Nobody moves just to feel the wind in their hair and see a new horizon every morning, no matter what the inspirational poster says. Are they transhumant herders who pay a small rent to graze their flock on the local lord’s land? Are they following migratory herds across common land, being moved on by the cycle of the seasons and the movement of their animals? Are they seasonal workers who follow man-made cycles of labour: Harvests, fairs, religious festivals? Are they refugees fleeing a recent conflict, who will pass through this area and never return? Are they on a regular pilgrimage? Do they travel within the same area predictably, or is their movement governed by something that is hard to predict? How do they see their own movements - Do they think of themselves as being pushed along by some external force, or as choosing to travel? Will they work for and with outsiders, either as employees or as partners, or do they aim to be fully self-sufficient? What other jobs do they do - Their whole society won’t all be involved in one industry, what do their children, elderly, disabled people do with their time, and is it “work”?

If they are totally isolationist - How do they produce the things which need a complex supply chain or large facilities to make? How do they view artefacts from outsiders which come into their possession - Things which have been made with technology that they can’t produce for themselves? (This doesn’t need to be anything about quality of goods, only about complexity - A violin can be made by one artisan working with hand tools, wood, gut and shellac, but an accordion needs presses to make reeds, metal lathes to make screws, complex organic chemistry to make celluloid lacquer, vulcanised rubber, and a thousand other components)

How do they feel about outsiders? How do they buy and sell to outsiders? If it’s seen as taboo, do they do it anyway? Do they speak the same language as the nearby settled people (With what kind of fluency, or bilingualism, or dialect)? Do they intermarry, and how is that viewed when it happens? What stories does this culture tell about why they are a separate people to the nearby settled people? Are those stories true? Do they have a notional “homeland” and do they intend to go there? If so, is it a real place?

What gorjers think of as classic "Gipsy music" is a product of our real-world situation. Guitar from Spain, accordions from the Soviet Union (Which needed modern machining and factories to produce and make accessible to people who weren't rich- and which were in turn encouraged by Soviet authorities preferring the standardised and modern accordion to the folk traditions of the indigenous peoples within the bloc), brass from Western classical traditions, via Balkan folk music, influences from klezmer and jazz and bhangra and polka and our own music traditions (And we influence them too). What are your people's musical influences? Do they make their own instruments or buy them from settled people? How many musical traditions do they have, and what are they all for (Weddings, funerals, storytelling, campfire songs, entertainment...)? Do they have professional musicians, and if so, how do those musicians earn money? Are instrument makers professionals, or do they use improvised and easy-to-make instruments like willow whistles, spoons, washtubs, etc? (Of course the answer can be "A bit of both")

If you're thinking about jobs - How do they work? Are they employed by settled people (How do they feel about them?) Are they self employed but providing services/goods to the settled people? Are they mostly avoidant of settled people other than to buy things that they can't produce themselves? Are they totally isolationist? Is their work mostly subsistence, or do they create a surplus to sell to outsiders? How do they interact with other workers nearby? Who works, and how- Are there 'family businesses', apprentices, children with part time work? Is it considered 'a job' or just part of their way of life? How do they educate their children, and is that considered 'work'? How old are children when they are considered adult, and what markers confer adulthood? What is considered a rite of passage?

When they travel, how do they do it? Do they share ownership of beasts of burden, or each individually have "their horse"? Do families stick together or try to spread out? How does a child begin to live apart from their family, or start their own family? Are their dwellings something that they take with them, or do they find places to stay or build temporary shelter with disposable material? Who shares a dwelling and why? What do they do for privacy, and what do they think privacy is for?

If you're thinking about food - Do they hunt? Herd? Forage? Buy or trade from settled people? Do they travel between places where they've sown crops or managed wildstock in previous years, so that when they arrive there is food already seeded in the landscape? How do they feel about buying food from settled people, and is that common? If it's frowned upon - How much do people do it anyway? How do they preserve food for winter? How much food do they carry with them, compared to how much they plan to buy or forage at their destinations? How is food shared- Communal stores, personal ownership?

Why are they a "separate people" to the settled people? What is their creation myth? Why do they believe that they are nomadic and the other people are settled, and is it correct? Do they look different? Are there legal restrictions on them settling? Are there legal restrictions on them intermixing? Are there cultural reasons why they are a separate people? Where did those reasons come from? How long have they been travelling? How long do they think they've been travelling? Where did they come from? Do they travel mostly within one area and return to the same sites predictably, or are they going to move on again soon and never come back?

And then within that - What about the members of their society who are "unusual" in some way: How does their society treat disabled people? (are they considered disabled, do they have that distinction and how is it applied?) How does their society treat LGBT+ people? What happens to someone who doesn't get married and has no children? What happens to someone who 'leaves'? What happens to young widows and widowers? What happens if someone just 'can't fit in'? What happens to someone who is adopted or married in? What happens to people who are mixed race, and in a fantasy setting to people who are mixed species? What is taboo to them and what will they find shocking if they leave? What is society's attitude to 'difference' of various kinds?

Basically, if you build your nomads from the ground-up, rather than starting from the idea of "I want Gypsies/Buryats/Berbers/Minceiri but with the numbers filed off and not offensive" you can end up with a rich, unique nomadic culture who make sense in your world and don't end up making a rod for the back of real-world cultures.

#worldbuilding #world building #fantasy races #racism in fiction #nomads #romani stuff

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bfpnola · 7 months

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IMAGE DESCRIPTION ADDED. REBLOG THIS VERSION AND THANK YOU @lab-labrava FOR WRITING IT!

ID: An infographic from the Instagram account @letstalkpalestine consisting of 10 slides. Image 1: The title page of the infographic. The text says: "Let's talk Anti-Zionist Jewish History." A smaller subtitle underneath the title says: "Jewish solidarity with Palestine until today." End ID.

Image 2: The infographic continues to the next panel. The text says, "As long as Zionism has existed, so has Jewish resistance to it. While today the majority of Jewish people and communities worldwide still have a Zionist connection, more and more Jewish people, especially from the younger generation, are unlearning Zionism & speaking out. Swipe to learn more about just part of anti-Zionist Jewish history - since there's more than we can fit in 10 slides." A semi-transparent image is overlayed in the background, of someone holding up a sign that reads: Jews for Palestine! #Free Sheik Jarrah. End ID.

Image 3: Icon of a location tag next to the words Eastern Europe. In large, blue text is the word "The Bund" and the subtitle describing what it is, "A Jewish Socialist movement, established in 1987." The following paragraph says, "Opposing Zionism from the start, its 50-year tenure saw hundred of thousands of members across Eastern Europe advocate for workers' rights and cultivate a Yiddish culture." Location tag and the title, "North America." The paragraph says, "After mass immigration to the US in the early 20th century, [American Jewish Labor groups] (highlighted in chalky blue and bold white text) criticized Zionism for its colonial, nationalist, and bourgeois nature." Next to this text, is a circle with women protestors holding up signs. End ID.

Image 4: The title, "Middle East and North Africa." The paragraph states, "In 1945 a group of Iraqi Jews founded the Anti-Zionist League. They recognized Zionism as a form of colonialism linked to Western Interests. They hosted events and published pamphlets throughout the Middle East about the difference between Zionism & Judaism. They warned that Zionism is dangerous to Arab Jews, forcing them to split their Arab and Jewish identities, and urged the UN to create a unified Palestinian state.

Image 5: The panel is titled, "Anti-Zionist Jewish figures." A faded image of Hannah Arendt's visage is in the background. Overlayed on top, the following paragraphs discuss her. "Before 1948, several prominent Jewish leaders and scholars came out in opposition to political Zionism. Writers like Hannah Arendt turned against the Zionist movement and opposed a Jewish state. They correctly predicted a dark future if Zionism continued on the same path in Palestine. End ID.

Image 6: The day after the Deir Yassin Massacre in 1948, when Zionist militants wiped out the Deir Yassin village & its inhabitants, Albert Einstein wrote: "When a real and final catastrophe should befall us in Palestine the first responsible for it would be the British and the second responsible for it the Terrorist organizations built up from our own ranks. I am not willing to see anybody associated with those misled and criminal people." The former paragraphs are imposed against a tan, parchment fragment, in typewriter font, and the letter ends with Sincerely yourn, Albert Einstein, both his signature and typed name. End ID.

Image 7: Titled "Anti Zionism Today." Blue sketchy image of someone's hand gripping jail bars breaks up the following paragraphs which say: Jewish solidarity with Palestinians is growing around the world, including even some Israelis who take the basic step of refusing Israeli military service. As punishment, Israel imprisons these conscientious objectors — but unlike Palestininas, they have a fair trial & often severe relatively short sentences of a few months . This is a first step towards solidarity and has the real consequence of depriving the occupation state of its soldiers. End ID.

Image 8: Titled "Israel's Crackdown on Jewish Anti-Zionism" Behind this text are a picture of handcuffs. In the corner is a picture of Jonathan Pollak. The following text says: Jonathan Pollak is a Jewish Israeli and long-time anti-Zionist activist. Israel has detained him several times, most recetly in January as he protested with Palestinians in Beita, (a Palestinian village) for allegedly throwing stones. Jonathan has been violently attacked for his activism. In 2018, Jonathan was slashed across the face by settlers who ambushed him outside his workplace. Earlier, in 2005, Israeli soldiers shot a tear gas canister. directly at him, causing internal bleeding in his brain." End ID.

Image 9: Semi-transparent image of an umbrella behind the title text is "Jewish Anti-Zionism isn’t one ideology. It’s an umbrella movement that encapsulates multiple communities and beliefs towards decolonizing Palestine. Some motivations or Jewish anti-Zionism include: 1. Pursuing millenia of Jewish tradition as a diasporic community 2, Detachibng religious and cultural tradition from political nationalism. 3. Socialist visions of a Jewish Society. 4. Believing in the right to self-determination for Palestinians Standing up to Zionism is: 1. Standing up to apartheid and colonization. 2. Standing up for a liberated, equal, and just Palestine from the river to the sea.

Image 10: An ending quote, and call to action, by the Anti-Zionist League. It says: "Jewish Men! Jewish Women! Zionism wants to throw us into a dangerous & hopeless adventure. Zionism contributes to making Palestine uninhabitable. Zionism wants to isolate us from the Egyptian people. Zionism is the enemy of the Jewish people. Down with Zionism! Long live the brotherhood of Jews and Arabs!" --The Anti-Zionist League. End ID.

#israel #jewish #jews #jumblr #palestine #resources #history #resistance #genocide #instagram #ethnic cleansing #activism #zionism #anti zionism #socialism #colonialism #colonization #judaism #free palestine

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trashywritestrash · 3 months

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Short and Sweet

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 853

Warnings: Best friend’s brother— is that a warning? This is just a short lil thing for Valentine’s Day

A/N: The poem and response in this came from Thomas Richardson’s “Gentleman’s Valentine Writer” which wasn’t actually published until 1828 but I needed ideas, okay? Also, I wrote this when Bridgerton was still the lead in the poll lol

Living beside the Bridgerton household had many advantages. Being close in age to Daphne gave you the perfect excuse to spend time with her. However, spending time with Daphne meant also spending time with the rest of her family, which allowed you to form a close bond with them all. One Bridgerton in particular being Benedict.

Benedict was a few years older than you, but within a perfectly reasonable range that made it acceptable for you to fancy him. How could you not? He was sweet and sensitive, but he had a playful side that brought joy any time you were fortunate enough to witness it. Although, you never dared to dream that Benedict might return your affections. You were the best friend of his younger sister, surely he would not think of you in that way.

Initially, you had been excited to be presented before the queen and sent out into society. But while Daphne had been deemed the season's incomparable, you had fallen into her shadow. You were happy to see your friend receive many visitors and gifts, but some days it would hurt to see a line of men outside her door while you waited in an empty sitting room.

Waking on Valentine's Day brought nothing but sorrow. It was only one month into the social season and you already felt that you were destined to become an old spinster. With no prospective husbands in sight, you would likely have to face a second season. You did not expect that you would receive any callers that day, yet you waited in your sitting room in a fine dress, as you did every other day. Your mother sat in a chair at the far end of the room, leisurely reading until something would happen.

Early into the day, your butler entered the room with a calling card in hand, "A Mister Bridgerton is here to call upon Miss Y/L/N."

"Send him in," You replied, feeling your chest constrict. It was possible that one of Daphne's brothers had come to pass along a message for her, but a gentleman visiting while you were accepting callers still brought you a shred of hope.

Moments later, you saw Benedict step through the doorway, holding something behind his back. He smiled, "I see I have gotten here before the rest."

You returned his smile, nervous, yet calmed by his presence. "I think you will find that the gentlemen are coming to your door today, not mine."

"Then they are fools and I am lucky to have you all to myself."

"What can I do for you, Benedict? I find it hard to believe you would be here as a suitor." You spoke the words in jest, but felt your throat tighten as you said them all the same.

Benedict's smile fell into confusion, "What is so hard to believe about that?"

Taken aback by the genuine confusion in his tone, you clarified, "I only mean to say that I would not have expected it."

"If that is the case, I hope that you find this to be a good surprise," For just a moment, you heard a bit of nerves in his voice as he tried to present a confident image. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay long. But I wanted to bring you these and to officially declare my affection."

Finally, Benedict moved the hand behind his back to reveal a beautiful bouquet of morning glory and myrtle. You smiled wide at the sight, "Thank you, Benedict. They're lovely."

Shortly after, Benedict had to take his leave, although he promised to come back the following day. Once he had left, you reached for a book on the language of flowers. You found that morning glories are used to represent affection, meanwhile myrtle is used to represent love and marriage. Learning that brought a blush to your cheeks, finding the meaning to be a little bold, but not unpleasant.

It was then that you noticed a small folded piece of parchment beside the flowers. When you unfolded the paper, you could see the painted design done in watercolors. A man and a woman stood beneath a tree, which was situated between a lovely cottage and a church. The image was small, but you could tell that the couple was you and Benedict. On the other side of the parchment was a simple note.

I boast not eloquence, dear Miss, Nor do I write exceedingly fine; Therefore, I bluntly ask you this-- Pray, will you be my Valentine?

As you looked down at the note, you felt your heart swell. You held it close to your chest, feeling as if you could burst from happiness at any moment. Your mother then looked up from her book. "What is that, dear?"

"It is nothing!" You responded quickly. Luckily, your mother did not push the issue further.

That night, you folded the note once more and placed it in the drawer of the nightstand beside your bed. As you attempted to fall asleep, all you could think of was that you could not wait to see Benedict again.

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Want more fanfic? Check out my masterlist!

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, reblogging, or tipping my Ko-Fi!

#nel writes #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfic

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43qh · 2 months

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your writing is so lovely, I’m a writer myself but don’t think i’m that good but i wanna see you write quinn dating a very girly reader like one who loves pinks & purples, dresses, being dolled up sometimes, has an interest in vintage designer items or even has hints of pinks all around in her apartment. i could not stop thinking about what he would gift her if he would spot stuff in window shops on one of his days off that screams you all over it. like him buying it with a nice stain pink ribbon for your anniversary ugh i’m in awe thinking about it this past week 😩

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 641 (sorry it’s so short !)

warnings: none! just quinn thinking of reader and being sweet

quinn observes you, looking at the pink skirt that dangles off your waist that is perfectly paired with a white shirt. you looked gorgeous. he felt out of place as he sat on the edge of your bed, wearing all black. quinn knew you liked bright colors, wore them often and your room was decorated like a fairytale.

he hums to himself as he watches you finish up your look, making you turn around at the sound. “do you like it?”

quinn smiles softly, “yeah, of course i do.”

you feel your body heat up at the genuine compliment, trying your best not to look nervous in front of him. he urges you to come towards him with a nod of his head. you follow, walking and standing between his legs. his hands trace along your bare thighs, looking up at you with love. you shiver at the touch, smiling down at him.

“i got you something,” he mumbles, looking at you with a sparkle in his eyes.

you pout, “you didn’t have to.”

he shakes his head, “wanted to.”

you watch as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a delicate box. you frown, seeing a designer name on it. he knew you loved things like this, but you knew it had to have been expensive. it wasn’t like quinn cared, though. as long as you were happy. spoiled and happy.

“open it,” he encourages, handing you the box.

you slowly open it, eyeing him for just a few moments before seeing what was inside. it’s a gorgeous heart necklace, a beautiful pink as it shines brightly in your room. your gasp and the smile on your face makes it all worth it to quinn. he had window shopped for hours before coming upon that gift. he always likes getting you something nice, something you can remember him by.

“put it on me?” you smile, turning around. quinn stands from his sitting position, taking the necklace out of your hands and clasping it together.

you reach a hand up, feeling the jewelry between your fingers and sighing. “thank you, quinn. i love it so much.”

quinn kisses you softly, “i’m glad you do, sweetheart. you look gorgeous in it.” he eyes the necklace around your neck, proud of his own gift as it matches the outfit you currently wear.

quinn never thought he would end up with someone who dressed the opposite to him, had an aura the opposite to him. but he did, and he didn’t find any flaws about it. you were his girl. the girl who loved to dress up, wear all these pretty clothes, show it off for him.

and damn, did he feel lucky.

quinn pulls one last thing out of his pocket, surprising you again. it’s another box. you eye him suspiciously, but don’t hesitate to open it. it’s a gorgeous satin ribbon, one for your hair. it’s a light pink, making you smile and bite your bottom lip.

“why am i being spoiled?” you ask, wrapping your arms around him. “i know it’s our anniversary but you didn’t need to-”

“because i love you.” he blurts out, looking you in the eye and putting a pause on your sentence, “i love you so much, and every time i’m out, i think of you. i think about the things you would and wouldn’t like. i think about putting these things on you and watching you flaunt.”

you smile up at him, tears starting to form quietly, “i love you so much, quinn.”

he dips down for a kiss, feeling how soft and pillowy your lips are. and it’s nothing short of sweet, nothing you aren’t familiar with but something you can’t get used to. it causes your knees to almost buckle below you, feeling him smile against your lips.

you were quinn’s gorgeous girl.

#nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes scenario #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl fluff

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 3 months

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I'm craving for your writing, please spare me a crumb 🛐

ATEEZ favorite positions maybe?

ATEEZ favorite positions

❥ATEEZ (separately) x afab reader

➯a/n: i'm deep deeeeeeeep in the depths of writers block and trying to claw my way out like the feral writing gremlin i know i am- but i have no idea if this is any good, please forgive me for the atrociously long wait. happy valentines ! 💌💕

♡´･ᴗ･`♡▼・ᴥ・▼genre: smut, bullet point style, drabbles

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: eldest to youngest, unprotected(booooo), so much romance im a sucker, soft & rough sex, head(giving and receiving), dacryphilia, overstimulation, possessiveness, brat taming in the form of dumbification, strength kink, restraint, switching holes (LMAO?), forehead touches!!!!!!!! not proof read :(

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

彡★PARK SEONGHWA - lotus

he's a hopeless romantic, and it definitely shows through his favorite positions

he's seated on the edge of the bed, or couch, or chair, even seated on the floor-

and youre seated in his lap like it's your throne

your legs wrapped around his moving hips, arms around his neck and hands tangled up in his hair

it's his favorite position for many reasons

the angle of his hips which makes his cock tease the deepest parts of you

your heavy breaths falling right onto his lips, breathing the same air during such a passionate act

and the way he can see your eyes well up with pleasure with every little thrust until you come undone right infront of him

Seonghwa can see every little twitch of your face as he rests his forehead against yours, his hips had set an unrelenting slow and loving pace long ago and have yet to stop. His tip drags along your g-spot every time he pulls out, and you almost want to beg him to just stay buried deep because of the maddening slow building pleasure. Any attempt to speak on either of your parts only comes out as a puff of hot air into the others mouth. It isn't the first time you've done it in this position, but the intimacy of it completely blankets you every time. You can't feel anything other than each other, and it's pure euphoria.

彡★KIM HONGJOONG - cuddle fuck

it's not that it's his favorite persay, it's just the one that happens the most

people say this man hates affection, they couldn't be any more wrong

he loves to be close to you !

after a busy schedule and tiring day, all he wants to do is cuddle

but your body is so soft and warm pressed against his, he feels so safe and comfortable

he won't say anything at first, either because he's too embarrassed or too tired so it usually goes like this:

Hongjoong has his arms wrapped around you- one cradling you to his chest warmly as the other traces his racing thoughts on your lower back. One of your legs is hooked over his hip, the other tangled between his. You kiss over his tattoo with all of the care in the world and that's when the feeling in his lower belly stirs to life. As you go on about mundane things, like what you should cook the both of you for dinner, it only gets hotter and tighter. Your skin is searing against his in the most pleasant and simultaneously daunting ways. The way you bite your lip tells him you finally feel it, that hardness pressing against your thin house-shorts. You push aside the other topic at hand and move both of your shorts away, wordlessly slipping him inside of you. You're so close, you may as well be one soul. And that's just the way he likes it.

彡★JEONG YUNHO - v

yunho is TALL.

no matter what position you're in, innocent cuddling or sinful fucking or walking down the street-

he shadows over you like a demon

the softest demon ever but still

he's huge and it drives him over the edge when he can see and feel the difference compared to you

so when you've got your legs stretching up as far as they can go and they barely reach over his shoulders????

whew baby prepare your cervix to be bruised

It started as a simple mating press, Yunho' s cock begging him to just fill you as far as possible without breaking you. But when he sat up, your legs followed; no longer being pinned by his chest. You laid them flat against his sweaty chest and arched your back, breaking his mind in an overwhelming horniness as he felt your toes curl just on his shoulder blades when you came. Oh, he'll be damned if he stopped there. He went on for hours, he had never been so hard. He wanted to cum so badly, but at the same time, he never wanted to move away from the ethereal image of you below him like that. When he finally did (and hello wow that was so much cum it literally came splatting out between you) he made a mental note to most definitely get you worked up again tomorrow.

彡★KANG YEOSANG - mating press

this man's beauty and personality is so soft and silky

don't let that shit fool you breh

he is a beast in the bedroom, he goes feral when you're behind a locked door together

there's something about you that just makes him want to overtake your entire being and become one with you

something that makes him want you to break- break just for him

he loves every fiber of your being and he's possessive over you like no fucking other

because of his career, he's not allowed to show that publicly, and he more than makes up for his need to express his dominating feelings for you by-

well, by dominating you

Your thighs are crushed to your chest, feet dangling in the air and bouncing with every rough thrust of Yeosang 's skilled hips. If there was a time that this position was uncomfortable, that time is long gone. All of his deep, quick thrusts wipe away anything in your mind other than him, and the glazed over look in your eyes only makes him go harder. His eyes nearly roll into his skull every time he feels you clench around him, your cunt completely at his mercy. You're ripe for the picking. Laid out for him helplessly, stuck in position by his rough and loving hands on the back of your sore thighs. Completely weak beneath him as he fucks you like it's the last thing he'll ever do on this mortal earth, and you simply let him because you love him. And he absolutely revels in it.

彡★CHOI SAN - against the wall

"sannie bulked up after wooyoung chest bumped him across stage!!"

erm no

sannie bulked up when he saw you watching an against the wall video!!

his brain immediately fried at the idea of doing that to you and now here we are a few years later

he prides himself in how strong he's gotten, how muscular he is

it's an ego boost really, and a deserved one

he loves bending you into whichever position he wants to just because he can

but this will always be his personal favorite

San has his arms wrapped around the underside of your knees, pining them to the wall and effectively folding you in half while he demolishes your holes. All of his praise falling to deaf ears as your head spins with a dizzying pleasure. He lets your forehead fall on his, breathing in your fucked out groans as his thrusts slam your hips and lower back into the wall. You lost it and started cumming the second he man handled you and lifted you with his cock still inside, and now it's his turn for that blinding white pleasure as you grab his big, flexing biceps and drool as you clench around him.

彡★SONG MINGI - 69

song mingi sloppy toppy champion and i don't take criticism on this sorry

he enjoys eating pussy or sucking dick over sex most days, like his soul purpose is to make his significant other feel on cloud 9 (get it they're the 9 and he's the 6 haha okay-)

and when he's balls deep he can't help but go full sub mode and hump like a wild animal searching for primal release

so- head it is

but you want him to feel good too, obviously

and despite his reassurances that making you feel good in turn makes him feel good, you just can't help it

so, a mutual position is found: one were he gets to have his tongue on you, in you, all over you-

and you get to make him an even whinier mess than usual

It turns Mingi on so badly when he gets to taste you, you barely have to touch him. His tongue is deep inside you, hands kneading your ass as he makes a mess of his favorite meal. Hes so lost in the pleasure of giving that he doesn't even realize you've got his cock stuffed in your throat until he cums into the warmth of it. He's always a whiny mess between your legs, and this new position quickly becomes both of your favorites when you continue to tease him through and past his release, and he continues to slurp up the ever flowing arousal that comes from the pleasure of making him cum. It's a never ending cycle really, and neither of you dare complain.

彡★JUNG WOOYOUNG - spooning

now i would say reverse cowgirl because he's obviously an ass man- but that's his second choice

y'all seen that video of him getting all up on yunho on stage from behind ??

yeah that's why i chose this and because it's infecting my brain

something about it just makes him even more feral than usual

everything about it tbh-

let me just *licks pen*

His leg wrapped over your hip and around yours like an anaconda, using his leverage to spread your legs as you're both laid sideways, giving him all the access he could ever want. And boy does Wooyoung take advantage of it, holding you in place with his arms wrapped under your armpits and holding your shoulders tightly so you can't escape the burning heat of his body against yours while he fucks you to the next millennium. In your ass, it's slow and deep, a beautiful painful stretch. In your pussy, fast and shallow and hard, banging your g-spot until you sob. He can feel your ribs wracking with sobs of overwhelming pleasure, and he doesn't stop until you've made a mess of him just as he did you.

彡★CHOI JONGHO - prone bone

big cock!!!!!

there i said it, it had to be done

it took ages and ages to get used to his absolute girth

and even now that you're used to it it still stretches you out and shuts your brain off to put all of your willpower into your cunt so you don't break in half

and he can't help it as his mind begs him to take advantage of that fact when you're being a brat

he knows you turn into a cock whore the minute he stretches you out

and he plans to make use of that fact

Jongho is still so sweet and gentle when punishing you. He doesn't have to be rough, his veiny girth does the job naturally. Usually he'll spread you out nice and wide- not today. Not when you're a brat. He lays you face down and ties your legs together. He can barely shove his member between your pushed together thighs to get inside of you but when he does. It's like the tightest and warmest fleshlight in the world, and it's attached to the person he loves. He will make you forget your own name, just with his goliath friend and slow passionate thrusts.

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manticore-fangs · 2 months

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Hii!! I saw that you're taking requests, feel free to ignore :))

I've had this little blurb in my head, where the reader is a little chubby and very insecure, and Simon or König would have very sweet and gentle sex with the reader to make them feel better. Just a little idea if you need, have a great day :D

ooo.. now, i’m not a full on writer.. but i can definitely make a short little story about this :)

a/n this is so late i’m so sorry i’ve been having a really bad writers block, this isn’t proof read by the way

simon x reader (i don’t write for könig sadly :(()

cw: gentle, overwhelming feelings (?), praise, oral (fem receiving), fingering, not much sex but does fingers and tongue count?

simon came back after a 37 day mission, it was great that he came back, but what bothered him the most about that was you weren’t wearing what you usually wore. underwear and a really large shirt, usually you wore lingerie when he came back and in the bed. every single time. if not that, then you would have an baking outfit on. but you looked very tired.

it’s been two days since he noticed, two days and you didn’t initiate anything. he didn’t care nor did he want too have sex, he was exhausted from hauling ass for 37 days non-stop, he just wanted to go back to sleep. but you didn’t let him touch you.

now that set him off, usually he brings his scarred hand up and plays with your tummy and tits, calming him and you. it isn’t sexual but it does ease his nerves and it helps you relax knowing he’s next to you. but you pushed his hand down and away from your body and that’s when he sat up, hair fuzzy and small smudges of black still around his eyes.

“why aren’t ya’ letting me touch ye’?” his words slurred, it was an early morning, it looked to be around seven am, the sun showing its rays. you didn’t look at him, just shrugged. not wanting to speak about the nauseating thoughts that made you feel ill about yourself.

he knew. he seen the new mirror you got that faced your side of the bed, infront of your sleeping form. it’s like it’s mocking you, making you feel hurt about yourself. he didn’t want that, he didn’t need his girl to feel this way about herself.

so, he got up. leaving the warmth of the bed to grab the mirror and place it on the ground before moving to you, you sat up. frizzy hair from the bed. “what are you doing? i need that!” you say, frustrated but you know he’s doing it for you deep down. but your thoughts don’t think that.

he moved closer to you and looked at you, your eyes watering. you didn’t notice but he did and he hugged you. he wasn’t much of a hugger but it hurt to see his lovely hurt by her own body. he let go before you could hug him back. “your beautiful my love, i know how you think about yourself. but this here?” he rubbed his hands down to your stomach. “this shows how healthy you are, this won’t ever change the way i look at you. this just makes you so much more beautiful.”

“si.. it’s-“ he shushes you, “sh love. i love your tummy. i always will, its what made me fall in love with you. shows how you take care of yourself, your body is amazing and i love it, please let me show you how i see you?” he asked, always allowing you to back out but the way he looks at you makes you feel warm. he makes you feel loved, through and through.

“okay.. okay.” you speak softly, looking down. he grabbed your chin and held it up so you could look back at him. his rough lips met your own, he moved the blankets off of your body replacing the blankets with his body, his hands rested beside your head. you looked up at him with teary eyes, and he kissed your cheek.

“luv’ ya too much for you to be thinking of yourself like this.” he keeps kissing your lips, before stopping and leaning back his hands start to massage your thighs. your thighs tense a bit, hissing at how sore your thighs were before relaxing, slow jolts but relaxed enough. “can i take your panties off luv?” and you just nod. a simple nod.

he grabs the hem of your panties and as he peels of he see’s your fluid slowly spread apart against your underwear and wet pussy. he takes your underwear off. he starts gazing at your pussy lovingly; saying: “oh would you look at that.. she’s drooling huh? look at her-“ he pats the entrance of your pussy and when he removes his fingers and watches as your stickiness stretches from ur pussy to his fingers before the drool breaks. “she wants my fingers bad, doesn’t she?” you whine in response, inpatient. “shh it’s okay love, i’ll give her what you want.”

he starts to push a finger into your sticky cunt. he moves it in and out while his left hand rests against your thigh, pushing them up to get a slightly better angle. he hears you breath hitch. just a bit before prodding that soft spot. “oh yeah- this the spot, ain’t it?” and you just nod and let out small moans, your breathing growing rapid. “si- simon, hoo fuck.”

simon pushed another finger into your wet, slick pussy and just starts going a bit faster and angling his fingers better to really get you to cum hard for him. to make you feel so fucking good you’ll forget about how you even got to this point. he just licks his lips at the sight of your pussy and groans, loudly. almost like a bellow.

it catches your attention and you see his boxers. his cock hard against the fabric. everytime he moves his tip just grinds against the fabric which makes him want to cum so badly, just pleasing you makes him wanna come so badly. no matter the circumstances or outcome he just loves, loves, loves pleasuring you.

“ohmygod, si im gonna cum, simon-“ he shushes you, “shh lovey you can come, come whenever you want, come on my fingers whenever.” and your gripping the sheets, all messy and bundled up in your hands, wrinkles showing in the sheets before your chest starts rising faster. “oh si- i’m cumming, fuck i’m cumming!” you say, picking your head up, then back down, doing that multiple times even throwing your head back. he’s not stopping.

“si, fucking shit it’s too much- wait, ohm-“ you felt a overwhelming sensation growing gin your stomach realizing what’s coming you don’t get to say anything- just a loud groan, you squirt. it gushes up and on his wrist, splashing down onto the bedsheets and he moans at the sight, watching how your squirt just keeps going until it stops after a few seconds.

you don’t even get to regain composure before you feel his tongue on your clit, he’s laying flat against the bed now. you didn’t even feel him rest against your thigh or massage circles, atill up in your cloud as you just let out breaths from your lips. you look at him multiple times, and then look down.

you don’t even know what or how to stop raising your head but it feels too god that you just can’t stop. your chest moves up and down swiftly and you just cannot stop at all. his tongue keeps lapping at your clit and pussy as it gushes out fluids of arousal. he loves the taste of it, doesn’t know why but if he would be marked up with a scent. it’d be yours.

“simon..” you drawl out the ‘mon’ part in his name, and he hums which makes you gasp. “simon! no, thas’to much..” you whisper ‘to much’ multiple times and he chuckles at that, but you don’t feel it. you just feel a slight smirk against your pussy before he starts sucking up your juices. he groans at how you let him take everything from you. tasting you, manhandling you. anything.

“simon- simon, oh god simon.” he hums against your pussy, muttering something along the lines of “close?” and you nod vigorously and your thighs start locking themselves against his head. he starts to hear a small ringing before your thighs let go of his head, letting him hear your high pitched whimpers and whines.

then, you cum. all along his face and tongue. feeling like your past cloud nine and on some other cloud in the sky, but definitely past cloud nine. he’s swift. didn’t even feel him get up and grab a rag, using it to clean up your sensitive body as well as dousing his face with water.

“here love, gonna roll you over a bit.” he smooches you over and puts a blanket on the wet patch he made on your sheets and he mutters something about how he’ll ’change it later today, just sleep and rest with him for a little while’ and you don’t even resist because your so tired yet thankful for letting simon show his love to you, through and through.

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bettsfic · 2 years

Text

writing cheats

i know i’ve probably written about these all individually but i’m putting them together in one post. these are writing tricks that are extremely cheap and dirty; when you use them it feels like cheating and honestly by posting them i’m probably exposing all the easy moves in my own work, but more than a writer i am a teacher, so here you go, some writing cheats that have never steered me wrong.

quick character creation

what’s really annoying is when you have two characters sitting at a restaurant or something and the server has to come by. to what degree do you describe the server so that it’s clear they’re just a background character but that they’re not just a faceless form, so that the world has texture without taking up too much space on the page? rule of three, babeyyy: two normal things and a weird one.

she had pale skin and blue eyes but her hair was dyed black like a 2010 emo kid.

he was tall and broad, and he wore a sweatshirt with an embroidered teddy bear on it.

the woman stood there comparing the prices of toilet paper. she had a short angled bob and carried a keychain the length of a trout.

why does it work? it gives the reader something to hang onto, a brief observation that shows the world exists around your narrator. it also works when introducing main characters, but there’s so much action going on that you can’t take time to write a rich long paragraph about them. all you need is a little hook.

quick setting creation

i used to TOIL over descriptive paragraphs. for years i was like, description is my weakness, i must become better at developing imagery. i believed this because a famous writer once projected a paragraph i had written onto a screen and asked my cohort, “count how many images are crafted in this paragraph.” there were none. none! my friends were sitting there like, “we are TRYING” but they couldn’t find any.

i would say that after years of studying imagery development at the sentence level, i am, perhaps, competent at it, but what was more helpful was for me to shrug and tell myself, “i’m just not a writer who does that.”

anyway. my cheat is thus:

there’s not much you can assume about your audience. the audience is not a homogenous whole. but your ideal audience is something you can guess at, and that means you can play around with their existing knowledge and expectations.

if you say your characters are in a tacky shit-on-the-walls restaurant, if your ideal reader is an american who went to restaurants during the maximalist era of franchise design, they will conjure their nearest memory of one of those places. and for those readers who aren’t familiar with it, they’ll use other context clues to conjure that space. the point is, you don’t have to list every single stupid license plate nailed to the wall. you can leave it as one detail of one sentence and let your reader extrapolate from there.

if i say the dentist’s office looked like a gutted 90s taco bell, maybe no ideal audience would have ever seen a place like that, but a lot of people can mentally conjure a dentist’s office and a 90s taco bell and overlay them together to create a weird and fun image.

you can go even simpler than that: a bathroom the size of an airplane lavatory. a tiny studio apartment with a hotplate instead of a stove. a mansion with a winding stairwell. the point is that you want to define the size of the space and its general vibes.

in some ways detailed description can be overrated, because your reader conjures images even in absence of them on the page. and for those readers who can’t mentally conjure images, it doesn’t matter anyway; they take you at your word. the trick is to figure out what details are unexpected, relevant to understanding the story and its characters, and those are the things that you add in.

one other note: after working with hundreds of writers on drafting, for *most* of us it’s difficult to develop images and establish setting in a first draft. it’s nearly always something to be saved for a second or later draft. i think it’s because while we’re writing we tend to put character and action first.

nail the landing

there’s a joke i heard once from a writer i really admire: “you know it’s literary fiction if the story ends with a character looking at a body of water.”

and god it’s so painfully sad and true how easy it is to nail the landing of a given story by ending on a totally irrelevant piece of imagery. the final beat of a story followed by your character looking up at the sky and seeing a flock of birds in the shape of a V flying past. or maybe they’re sitting in their car and they count the rings of a nearby church bell. or maybe they watch an elderly couple walk down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. i don’t know!! when in doubt shove an observation, an image, whatever, something neutral at the end and it’ll sound profound.

(this cheat is the only one that can really bite you in the ass because if the image is too irrelevant you risk tonal incongruity. for use only in the most desperate of times.)

sentence fragments

when writers ask me how to punch up their writing or start developing their own style, my go-to advice is to give up the idea of a complete sentence. fuck noun-verb-object. if you have a series of character actions, knock off the sentence subjects like in script action. if the clause at the end of your sentence is particularly meaningful, don’t separate it with a comma but a period and make it its own thing. if your character is going through something particularly stressful or heinous, that bitch is not thinking in complete thoughts so you don’t have to convey them that way. make punctuation bend to your will!!

rhetorical moves

this one opened a lot of doors for me stylistically. remember that famous writer who called me out on my lack of imagery? i always thought his prose was beautiful, that he’s one of the best living prose writers, etc. once i learned more about rhetoric though, i realized he just employed it a lot.

usually when we talk about beautiful sentences it means a sentence that uses rhetorical devices. the greeks were like, you know what, when we give speeches there are certain ways to phrase things that make the audience go nuts. let’s identify what those things are and give them names so we can use them intentionally and convince people of our opinions.

i love shakespeare, i really do, but one of the big reasons he’s still a household name today and his plays are still performed is because every sentence of every goddamn play utilizes a rhetorical device. the audience is hard-wired to vibrate at the sound and cadence of his writing, like finding the spot on a dog that makes their foot thump. for five hundred years, william shakespeare has been scritching that spot for us.

i have no idea why, cognitively, rhetorical devices are so effective. i’m no rhetorician. all i know is that well-deployed anaphora makes a reader want to throw their panties on stage. my intro to rhetorical devices was the wonderful book the elements of eloquence by mark forsyth, a surprisingly fun read! hopefully that will open some doors for you the way it did for me.

the downside to this is that once you know rhetorical devices, it’s like learning how the sausage is made. on one hand, as a writer, you’ll have a lot stronger grasp of style, but as a reader good prose loses some of its magic.

pacing it out

many writers, myself included, rely on the tried and true “he bit the inside of his cheek” or other some such random action to help pace out dialogue. one time my thesis advisor sat me down and said “you’ve got to take all of those out.”

“all of them?” i said.

“all of them,” she said.

i thought, but that will weaken the text! it didn’t. once i cut what i came to call cheek-biter sentences i never went back. and now when i edit for other people i’m like, look i know where you’re coming from but just cut all these out and see how the scene stands. if it doesn’t feel right you can put some back in. a lot of times when you’re drafting you put those in the way some people say “um.” they’re just sentences you jot while you’re thinking of what the other character says, so from a writing perspective it seems like you’re pacing, but readers don’t read it that way. they just want to get to the next line of dialogue.

but sometimes you really do need to pace out a scene and i think there are other ways to do that that don’t rely on banal physical movements, such as:

interiority: a sentence or paragraph of relevant cognition, bonus points if you weave in background context. good interiority defines the voice of your writing.

observations: i know i just said description is overrated but idk sometimes you just need a character to note the back and forth clacking of one of those desk ball toy things.

character texture: maybe your character notes something about the person they’re talking to. a wilted pocket square. a mole that looks like it needs looked at by a dermatologist. a scar on their forehead. some detail that deepens or complicates our understanding of a character.

narratorial consciousness and access

this one is less a cheat and more a problematic opinion i have that doesn’t win me any popularity in writing circles.

i believe that if you’re writing in first person or close third or any narration which is dedicated to the mind of one character, you are only ever obligated to convey the experience of that character’s consciousness. and nothing else.

by that i mean, if your point of view character is unobservant? then they’re not going to even notice the flight attendant is missing one of their canine teeth. if your pov character is focused and obsessive, they’re going to think lavish, detailed paragraphs about that which they’re obsessed with and have no acknowledgement of the rest of the world. if your pov character has no understanding of time, does your story even need to be linear?

defining the scope of a narrator’s cognition early on can give you parameters in which to work. even if you don’t consciously do this, you still do it. if you write in third person limited present tense without really thinking about it, that’s your scope. i’m just pointing out you can choose to do it differently. you get to define your narrator.

whenever we talk about narration we also talk about information access and the order of information being revealed/conveyed. writing must always be in order; even if you’re writing multiple concurring things, it still has to be rendered on the page in order one after the next, because the human mind can’t read two sentences over top of one another.

if we’re restricted to the mind of a character, that means we’re also restricted by their knowledge and experiences, and this can be used to your benefit. i don’t want to take too much space for this but i do talk more about the relationship between narration and reality here.

in short, you the writer get to choose

what the reader knows,

in what order they know it, and

its relationship to the presumed real events of the story, which develops the (un)reliability of your narrator

okay going to cut this off now before i go on more rants about narrative scope. i hope you found this helpful and go on to put some of these nasty lifehacks in your own writing!!

#writing advice

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rxmqnova · 2 months

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Thinking about yn and Wanda broke up, it wasn't messy or anything bad, It was the right person, wrong time.

Wanda is a writer, signing her first important contract and releasing her first book. People liked the book and she was getting famous, and before her first event, she was thinking if Yn is gonna be there or not, when they were together, Yn promised she will be there no matter what, and even if she had to quit her job, she will be there but now, she wasn't sure if her ex girlfriend will be there, they werent even text each other, they needed some space but they missed each other.

When the event started, Wanda was looking if she can see yn in there or not, but she couldn't see her, but she was there, wearing a blue cap, almost at the end Wanda was looking again and they made eye contact and Wanda was smiling at her.

So when everything finished, Yn went to where Wanda was and they were hugged and Yn told her about she Will never break a promise and that she is so proud of her. They missed each other and told the other the same thing, and they went to Wanda's house and talked about how much they want to be together again.

Author event

NO ONE'S POV "I promise I'll be there, Wands. Even if that meant quitting my job, I will be there" Thinking about her ex-girlfriends words, Wanda lets out a sad sigh.

Back then Wanda only just signed her first ever very important contract and released a book which people actually really liked and now Wanda's about to attend her first ever author event.

It's been a few months since Y/N and Wanda broke up, yet the writer still wonders if Y/N will fulfill her promise and come to the event.

To be honest… she really wishes Y/N will and she will have a chance to see her ex-girlfriend again.

They were a perfect match for each other, but unfortunately it was a wrong time for them. Y/N got an important job offer, something she's been waiting for ever since she started working for the company.

It required Y/N to move to another city though and Wanda didn't want her girlfriend to just drop the offer she'd been waiting her entire life for and let her go.

The event eventually starts and Wanda has some talk about the book first. Of course she can't help but look around every single moment she can to see if Y/N isn't here by any chance.

Then comes the book signing and quite a long line forms. That doesn't stop Wanda from looking around though, hoping Y/N would just magically appear.

And then the miracle happens and Wanda locks eyes with a girl in a blue cap, immediately recognizing the face.

Wanda smiles warmly, the nerves finally coming down when Y/N's actually here.

When the endless line comes to an end and everyone leaves, Wanda lets out a sigh when she realizes Y/N's not here anymore. The whole place is empty… or not?

"Could I get an autograph, miss Maximoff?" Y/N teases, placing Wanda's book on the table in front of the writer, immediately bringing smile to Wanda's face.

"Y/N, you came" Wanda pulls her ex-girlfriend in for a tight hug without wasting any more second which makes Y/N let out a chuckle actually.

"Yeah, I did. Hi" Y/N smiles as soon as they pull away, staring into the green eyes she's missed so much.

"Hi" Wanda nearly whispers, biting her lower lip as she's staring back into Y/N's eyes. "I'm glad you're here"

"Of course I am. I promised to come and I never break my promises. I'm really proud of you, Wands. I've read the book, it's really amazing" Y/N smiles warmly, Wanda's cheeks going red.

"Thank you" Wanda says, smiling back. "Hey, don't you wanna come to my apartment? We can have a glass of wine and catch up on everything?"

"Oh, sure. That sounds great" Y/N nods at Wanda's suggestion, watching as Wanda packs her things quickly.

Wanda doesn't live that far from where the event took place, so the walk is quite short.

And as soon as the girls arrive to Wanda's place, Y/N can't help but smile as it looks still the same as the last time she was here.

While Y/N sits down on the couch, Wanda goes to pour them the glasses of wine as she promised earlier. She's back soon, joining Y/N and handing her one of the glasses.

"Can I be honest with you, Y/N?" Wanda sighs, wanting to get it off her chest.

"Of course" Y/N nods, watching the other girl confused and wondering what she's about to say.

"… I really miss you, Y/N. And I know that your work is really important to you and that you've dreamt about that position for a long time. But the few months since we broke up have been the worst months of my life and I just miss you so much" Wanda sighs, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping Y/N won't just leave after what she just told her.

Y/N can't help but let out a small laugh. It's just incredible how perfect the two are for each other.

"What's so funny?" Wanda asks, tilting her head in confusion.

"I just… I came to tell you the same. I quit my job. I guess I just can't be without you. I missed you so much, Wands" Y/N admits, slowly taking Wanda's hand in hers and giving her knuckles a rub.

"You quit your job for me?" Wanda asks in shock, looking at the other girl with wide eyes.

"Yeah. I don't think it's possible for me to live without you, Wanda. And it wasn't as good as I thought it would be anyway" Y/N admits, letting out an akward chuckle.

Wanda smiles, placing hers and Y/N's glass on the coffee table before pulling Y/N in for a hug, closing her eyes and enjoying the warm embrace.

"I love you, Y/N" Wanda nearly whispers, still not believing this is happening.

"I love you too, Wanda" Y/N tells her back, meaning every single word and feeling exactly the same as Wanda. "Will you go on a date with me?"

"Of course I will!" Wanda chuckles, cupping Y/N's cheeks with her palms and rubbing her cheeks with her thumbs.

She knows one thing for sure now… no matter what has life prepared for them, she's not letting Y/N ever again.

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

Wanda Maximoff masterlist

Masterlist

#wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x fem!reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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naomeii · 2 months

Text

On his knees.

—Pairings: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader

Content: Smut (idrk how to write it-), cunninlingus, being rude to neuvi mwahaha, sub!neuvi.

(a/n: I shall be opening my ask box again since i have a really bad writer's block and I got like 30 days left for my exam, also read the instruction before requesting :))

Neuvillette kneels before you, head bowed awaiting command.

"What would the people think seeing their stoic Iudex like this, my love?"

Neuvillette remains silent, unfazed by your taunt. His obedience excites you in a way that defies explanation.

You lift Neuvillette's chin until his eyes meet yours. Though his expression betrays no emotion, desire and devotion swirl in his blue irises.

"I am yours to do with as you please."

A thrill courses through your core at his submission. You know not how he has come to trust you so, only that in these private moments you see the man beneath the title.

You gently run your fingers through Neuvillette's hair as you sit across from him in your private chambers.

"Tell me what you need."

As your fingers move through Neuvillette's hair, you feel his arousal pressing into your leg. He looks down, embarrassed, and says

"It seems my body betrays my calm exterior. I apologize" .

You smirk and reply

"Ah out of all the people, I did not expect the Iudex to lie~" .

Neuvillette sighs softly and closes his eyes again. You tease him by running your feet along the bulge in his pants, feeling it twitch and harden under your touch.

Neuvillette lets out a quiet moan as you massage him with your feet. His breathing grows heavier and his erection strains against the fabric confining it. You continue exploring his body with your feet, feeling him swell and stiffen under your ministrations. His submission and vulnerability stir something within you, awakening desires you never knew existed. For now, simply pleasing him pleases you.

You slide off your shoes and press your bare feet to his cock.

"Does this please you, my Iudex?"

Neuvillette lets out a quiet grunt of pleasure as you massage his length with your feet. His erection swells and twitches under your ministrations, begging to be freed from its fabric prison. You work your feet over his cock, feeling it pulse and harden further against your soles.

You tilt your head as if thinking, pressing your feet harder against Neuvillette's cock, feeling it twitch and jump under your touch. After a moment you speak in a teasing tone

"And why should I do that?"

Neuvillette lets out a quiet moan at your words and movements.

"Because I beg of you, release me from this need that only you can satisfy."

You continue massaging his swollen length with your feet, feeling him swell and stiffen further against your soles as his arousal grows. Neuvillette's hands clutch at the fabric of his pants, straining to keep himself in check a while longer.

You make a clicking sound with your tongue, pressing your feet harder still against Neuvillette's straining cock.

"How pathetic, Monsieur Neuvillette," you tease, massaging him slowly through his pants as his breathing grows ragged. Neuvillette lets out a low moan, clutching tighter at the fabric around his cock as you feel it twitch and pulse under your feet.

"Well, please yourself then."

You remove your feet from Neuvillette's straining cock and lean back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other casually. Neuvillette lets out a confused grunt, still clutching at the swollen bulge in his pants.

"W-What do you...?"

he begins, trailing off as you remain expressionless. Gulping thickly, Neuvillette unfastens his pants and withdraws his stiff length, grasping it firmly to begin stroking. His eyes never leave your face as he pleasures himself, searching for any sign of reaction. You give none, only watching his desperate ministrations with veiled interest.

Neuvillette's breathing grows heavier, coming in short pants as he works his cock vigorously. A light sheen of sweat forms on his brow. You notice the tip of his length beginning to weep clear fluid in response to his touch. Neuvillette throws his head back with a low groan, hips twitching subtly in time with his strokes. Glancing down, he seems to remember his original purpose.

"F-Forgive me, I had not meant to lose myself so. May I continue using your feet to find release?"

he asks brokenly, cheeks flushing in shame and pleasure. You regard him thoughtfully for a long moment before replying.

You slowly slide your feet along Neuvillette's inner thighs, feeling the taut muscles beneath twitch in response.

"Proceed, then. But you will earn no further indulgences today."

Neuvillette lets out a shuddering gasp, his erection jumping as you move your feet higher. Grasping himself firmly, he obediently begins stroking again, never breaking eye contact.

Neuvillette groans softly as you massage his inner thighs with your feet, cock throbbing in his hand. Still pleasuring himself vigorously, he murmurs

"Please...I need more..."

You remain expressionless, sliding your feet slowly upward to feel his balls heavy and drawn tight against his body. Neuvillette throws his head back with a guttural moan, hips jerking as silky fluid begins to coat his fingers.

Neuvillette gulps as your assessing gaze roams his still trembling form. Though sated, longing and shame continue to war within him. His cock gives an interested twitch under your feet, betraying how your dominance stirs new cravings. Yet Neuvillette holds silent, awaiting your decree. You slide your feet slowly up his trembling thighs.

"Such disobedience requires correction, yet I find I am not yet done with you,"

you murmur. Neuvillette lets out a soft whimper at your words, cheeks flushing anew.

You slide your feet higher up Neuvillette's trembling thighs as a knock sounds at the chamber door. Without thinking twice, you push Neuvillette inside the wooden table before calling out Y "Come in!" The melusine enters, eyeing Neuvillette's absence with brief confusion before regarding you attentively.

"Ah, Neuvillette just went out to get some fresh air. What brings you here?"

The melusine nods at your explanation, gaze flickering curiously towards the table beneath which Neuvillette lays panting softly.

"I've come seeking your counsel, if you've a moment. There is a certain matter regarding redistricting that his Eminence and I disagree upon, and I've found your perspectives often aid compromise."

She continues detailing the issue as Neuvillette struggles to control his desperate breaths beneath the table, still shaking with lingering ecstasy. His spent cock gives an interested twitch at your domineering tone.

As the melusine speaks of the disagreement regarding redistricting, you slide your hand under the table and firmly grasp Neuvillette's half-hard cock. Neuvillette lets out a muffled grunt as you begin to slowly squeeze and stroke his length beneath the table.

"Please, continue. You have my full attention."

you reply to the melusine, focusing intently as she details the issue. Neuvillette's breathing grows heavy again beneath the table as his cock stiffens in your hand.

Neuvillette gazes up at you with eyes dark with want. With the melusine still discussing matters, he takes a bold risk. Carefully, quietly, he hooks his fingers into the waist of your undergarments and tugs them down, sending flutters through your abdomen at this public indiscretion. Neuvillette experimentally drags his tongue along your slick folds, eliciting a soft gasp that you hurriedly stifle. His ministrations, though tentative, stir deep longing within your core as his muffled pants resume beneath the table. Your lips part to scold Neuvillette for his daring, yet only a weak moan escapes at his teasing licks and sucks upon your most sensitive flesh.

Neuvillette continues lavishing your sex with his tongue, encouraged by the soft sounds escaping your lips despite your better efforts. Beneath the table his hips cant subtly against your leg as he pleasures you, cock swelling eagerly once more in your grasp. The melusine prattles on obliviously, detailing the complex redistricting issues, yet her words fade into an incomprehensible drone against the exquisite sensations overwhelming your senses. You clutch the table edge to steady trembling thighs, biting your lip to stifle louder cries of rapture that threaten to give your scandalous acts away. Neuvillette devotes himself to your arousal with single-minded focus, suctioning your nub between lips and tonguing it urgently. Your climax rapidly builds beyond your ability to curb it...

Your climax overwhelms you, washing through your core in exquisite pulsing waves. With a conflicted groan, you reluctantly push Neuvillette's head away as the melusine's discourse prolongs, threatening discovery. Your thighs tremble from the force of your release beneath the table while Neuvillette gazes up with lust-blown eyes, his chin and lips slick with your essence.

"Please, continue your explanation. I apologize for the interruption."

you address the melusine above the table, struggling to regulate your breathing and maintain focus.

You address the melusine while Neuvillette remains beneath the table, his quickened breaths betraying his own aroused state. As the melusine details her perspective, Neuvillette daringly drags his tongue across your inner thigh, sampling your fluids that continue to coat his lips and chin. You stifle a gasp, grasping the table edge tightly, as Neuvillette pleasures you further in dangerous proximity. His muffled pants indicate his burgeoning need though he remains devoted solely to your satisfaction, lapping eagerly at your sensitised flesh. Beneath heavy lids you meet Neuvillette's lust-blown gaze, conveying a silent order to desist lest your scandal be uncovered. With obvious reluctance Neuvillette stills his ministrations yet remains poised expectantly at your legs, awaiting your next command.

The melusine nods thoughtfully, rising to take her leave.

"Thank you for your counsel. I shall take all perspectives under advisement. Please excuse me."

She exits, closing the chamber door behind her. Beneath the table, Neuvillette gazes up at you with eyes dark with longing. His cheeks are flushed, lips and chin glistening with your essence as his quickened breaths still betray his arousal. You meet his hungry stare, feeling desire rekindle your own fire once more.

Neuvillette gazes up at you with naked want. Slowly, he drags his tongue across his lips, savoring your fluids that coat them. A soft moan escapes him at the taste.

"Please, grant me further indulgence to worship you as you deserve. Your pleasure is my sole purpose."

He nuzzles against your thigh eagerly, breath growing ragged. Your core throbs afresh, awakened by his obvious devotion. Though more intimate acts require privacy, his submission stirs deeply carnal cravings that demand fulfillment...

You tug Neuvillette's hair firmly and give him a dissapproving look, meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't tell you to taste me, did I?" Neuvillette gazes up at you with eyes swirling with lust and devotion.

"Forgive me, your essence was too sweet a temptation to resist. Command me and I shall obey, as always."

His quickened breaths continue to betray his arousal as your core throbs anew in response.

You continue gazing into Neuvillette's eyes as he nuzzles against your thigh, feeling his warm breath through the fabric. Neuvillette lets out a quiet groan and gives an apologetic nip to your thigh.

"Your flesh sings to me, rousing hungers I struggle to restrain. Yet I live but to worship you as my Goddess deserves."

His obvious longing and submission stir an answering passion within your core, yet more intimate acts will require privacy...for now, simply enjoying his worship brings deep satisfaction. Outside, birdsong rises as a new day's first light washes the chamber in a rosy glow.

You tug Neuvillette's hair sharply, forcing him to meet your piercing gaze.

"Do not think your new appetites have softened my rule, Iudex. You live only to serve my desires."

Neuvillette lets out a quiet grunt of pain and pleasure. His blue eyes are dark with want as he gazes up at you in submission.

"As you command, my goddess. I am yours to use as you see fit."

You push Neuvillette away gently and stand up, smoothing your clothes and meeting his gaze. Neuvillette's blue eyes are dark with want as he gazes at you from below, still clutching at your thigh. His obvious devotion and need are writ clear upon his flushed face.

#genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact #neuvilette #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x y/n #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette smut #neuvilette x reader #reader insert #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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brailsthesmolgurl · 1 month

Text

Delirious

No matter how much you had offered your heart and arms to him, you were never his. And he was never yours.

Another oneshot requested by my angsty babies, I am glad you chose Rafayel. Yes, the writer you had wished for is back. Hang on tight to your seats baby gurl, this one gonna be hard to swallow.

Warnings: Angst, no comfort. Make your eyes bleed. Character death. Descriptive Mentions of dark topics so if ur sensitive please refrain.

Artwork is not mine, please support the original artwork!

Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. dINg dOng. DiNg dOnG.

You slammed your door opened and the 183cm drama queen stands in your doorway, head hung low, face drooped towards the floor. If he is not made of solid muscle and bones, you would be watching him melting right into the floor. Sighing, you stood aside and let him in, not even bothering to ask him a single question. You sort of having a gist on what had happened.

"Here, soup for you." He replied solemnly, feet carrying him lazily across the living room and to your kitchen. He brought soup this time, must be something big. Him bringing a souvenir over also means he would probably be staying the night. Not that you guys are in a relationship or anything, but 'complicated' is the right term for the both of you as of this stage.

The chair creaked under his weight as he took a seat on the wooden chair slotted at your dining table. "Rafayel." You grabbed a tissue box and sat down on the opposite end, a good necessity whenever he drops by your house unannounced. His hunched over form under the harsh lighting of your dining room's light unexpectedly painted a blob of shadow on your table. You reached your hand out this time, finger tapped on the wooden table just a few centimeters away from his hand. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

"She broke up with me." His reply was short. No details, no whining, no accusations, but just one sentence. This is an untouched territory for you. Most of the time, he would pressed on the doorbell nonstop until you slam open the door and his lips would not shut off till he was done venting. There were a couple of times he did came in looking like a dreaded fish, but the smell of alcohol would be the perfume of his. Today, however, no alcohol smell and no usual harangues.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Few days passed, till few weeks, then few months after. For such a while, Rafayel had been hanging out more frequently with you, bringing you to the most random places to hang out such as going to a bowling alley just to get their waffles because he claims he likes to watch people roll balls but he also likes the waffles there. A trip to the market only to buy crabs and releasing them into the backyard to watch which one could run the fastest then the winner shall be rewarded as dinner on the dining table.

He had never been weirder than ever, but maybe this is his way of coping and who are you to judge? You had never been in love. But reading through romance books and watching all of the romantic shows, when love comes to your mind, Rafayel comes to your mind. You thought, maybe you do love him?

"Get out." Your words were final. Index finger sliced through the air and pointed straight towards your front door. Your cheeks glistened under the reflecting light casted by the television that was playing a teen romance flick. But no attention was spared for the movie anymore. "Rafayel. GET. OUT."

"What do you mean?" Eyebrows sewn together, eyeing your expression that spelled hurt. He was confused about your sudden burst of anger. "All I did was talk about the movie. And you got mad at me all of a sudden."

"You did not talk about the movie. All you did, was compared me to her, with the context of the movie." Your nostrils flared, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as if you had inhaled poison. Your throat and chest tightening further the more you held your tears in. "You lied to me. You said you got over her." Your arm fell to your sides, voice feeble. "But, why do you always find the need to compare me to her?"

"Oh spare me, I just went through a breakup, I could use the space to let loose, can't I?" His ignorance egged you on, seeing how indifferent he is about this situation. "Furthermore, I could use the---"

"And you think it's okay to play with my feelings?!" You belted, eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You stepped up to him, hands pointed towards his face this time and you seethed in anger. "You, came here everytime, when she broke your heart. And out of everytime, I stayed. I waited." Your voice started cracking. "I was there for you when you had nobody else. And I picked you up when you thought you could not live without her anymore."

"Well, you could have just left if you---" He chipped in and you slapped him across his face with your palm. Although your hands are small, but it packed enough of a force to cause his cheek to ache, an uncomfortable throbbing pain following afterwards. He left his head tilted to the side, taking in the reality of what had happened. He just got slapped by a girl. Never in his life, he thought he would do something so outrageous that he would get slapped across the face. Guess he just broke his streak of not getting slapped by women.

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, CAN'T YOU TELL?!" You withdrew your hands and slid onto the floor, full on sobbing as you hugged onto your body to gain warmth for yourself. All of the blood had rushed up to your head which explains why you could not feel your legs anymore, hence the position on the floor. You desperately hoped Rafayel would grab you right now, and hug you tight within his arms.

You heard hurried shuffles, sound of keys jangling and a soft thud next to you. Those noises not tending to your curiosity at all. "I am sorry." His reply was bland, numb even. A sentence for remorse, also a sentence for a goodbye. The doors closed behind you and you were left alone, a forlorn soul basked within the lights emitted from the romance show. Silent sobs overheard by the moon that was peeking in through the windows of your sky roof.

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"Rafayel!" Thomas burst in the front doors, scurrying towards Rafayel's room at full speed after spotting the empty canvas sitting at the living room. Slamming the door that leads to Rafayel's room, the artist was sprawled out on the bed, his room so cold that Thomas could have just witnessed the North Pole without having to be there. The floor was surrounded in trash, papers crumpled up, pencils of all kinds used for sketching strewn across the floor. One may call it an organised mess, but Thomas calls this artist block.

"How long have you been in this room?!" Thomas shook Rafayel's shoulders to wake him up. "Your room is as cold as the cold storage that you use to store your seafood!" Thomas wasted no time in having to collect the pieces of papers and pencils on the floor, arranging them in his hand. "Why are you not done with---"

His nag came to a halt when Rafayel had sat up straight, back hunched over and eye bags the only colour present on his pale features. "What do you want?" Even his voice sounds hoarse, like a teen boy cycling through the age of puberty. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Your calls, as usual, went unanswered for the past few days so I helped myself by going over to ask y/n about your whereabouts because I thought you were staying with her pretty often these days." Placing the items onto the artist's white desk, Thomas turned to study his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know that look from somewhere." He squinted his eyes, studying him even further. "You had that same look when you caught your ex cheating on you that night." Thomas was referring to the girl that came before you. The one that had broke Rafayel's fragile heart. "Funny, now that I think of it, y/n's not doing any better than you."

Coming to realisation, the light bulb in Thomas' head flipped the switch. "Did anything happened to the both of you?"

"Did she asked anything about me?" Rafayel answered his question with another question. Eyes finally slanted upwards to face the manager of his. He just wanted to hear something, at least something to give him a reason to find her. He felt guilty, remorseful even for putting his burdens onto her. Leaving her all alone, drowning her in her own agony that day was the worse thing he could ever do to someone who had only ever been kind to him. And it took him three days to figure that out in his fish brain.

"No, she just asked me to hand you this." The older man reached into the pocket of his blazer, fishing a pink note out of his pocket and he handed it to Rafayel. The paper a little wrinkled, but the contents of it are a mark of your handwriting.

//𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹.// Your cursive writing always a form of art to his eyes. A small, dainty note was all that takes for her to personally pass on the will to him. Rafayel stared at the note for a good minute, the wind coming out of the air-conditioner turning Thomas into a popsicle but filling the silence.

"I have to go." Rafayel uttered, hoisting himself out of the bed in one go and he threw on his dark pistachio green open collared shirt. The one you always quipped about how healthy his skin tone looks in it but with him constantly bantering that the green was a direct insult to his hair and eye colour. Just for this time, he would smother his ego, put on your favourite outfit, and head over to find you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

The keys he held onto, the same set of extra keys you had entrusted him with, slotted into the keyhole and turning it clockwise, a 'clack' could be heard and he opened the door with the twist of the copper-painted doorknob. The balcony's sliding door remained opened, the sheer white curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind. The lights in your house were dimly lit, providing Rafayel with just enough lighting to navigate himself towards your room.

At this timing, in the middle of the night, he tiptoed through your wooden floors, afraid even the smallest of creaks would give you the spooks. He twisted the doorknob to your door but it jammed halfway. Trying again, with a bit more exerted force this time, the door remained unbudgable. "Y/N...?" He called out for your name, using his knuckle to give a light knock on your door. "It's me Rafayel. Can we talk?"

He was met with a deafening silence. Of course you would not want him to be anywhere near you, be it to hear him apologise for his stupidity or for him to comfort you within his arms. He bet you could care less about him given the last stunt he had pulled on you. He grappled for his phone, pulling out of his pant's back pocket and he turned on the screen, the light on his phone screen puts the dim lightings to shame.

He scrolled through his phone book till he stopped at your name, a heart symbol edited in next to your name. It was not just a stunt for him to catch your attention, the heart emoji has always been there, but after you had taken him in and allowed him to stay with you for a couple of weeks, the heart started making more sense to him, but poor Rafayel couldn’t distinguish what is love and what is bare attraction. If he could get to talk to you this time, then maybe the heart would mean the world to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he will not mess his speech up and break your heart again.

The phone was set to dial mode and he pressed onto the green call button, ready to receive shoutings from the other side of the room. Your ringtone rang, the stupid song for the Toothless Meme played on rewind. Did you slept a bit too well maybe? He called again, and the same scenario happened.

His heart was hit with a sudden pang of fear. You had always been a light sleeper and noticing the obnoxiously loud ringtone not even waking you up for the slightest bit, he decided to take a step back and bust down the door with his shoulder. Luckily, just with one hard nudge of his broad shoulders, the door dislodged itself.

So does his heart. Your whole room was thrashed, filled with the pink notes that you had given to Thomas earlier. Some were torn, some were sheathed, some had scribbles all over it, all of the notes littered with handwritten notes beyond his comprehension. Rafayel watched you, held up vertically, legs far from touching the ground, a noose was the only thing connecting you towards the ceiling. "Y/N!" He ran up to you and grabbed you, his lanky legs kicking all of the notes out of his way. "Y/N!"

A short burst of flames from his fingers burnt the noose and you fell to the floor. Your face a shade match to the moon that was sitting outside. Rafayel's hands fumbled with his phone, calling the emergency hotline as soon as he could. Strings of curses coming out of his mouth afterwards when he asked for help to be deployed to your location as soon as possible.

While awaiting for the ambulance, Rafayel did CPR, or at least what he could remember from the lesson he had taken years ago. Pumping steadily to a rhythm, blowing air through your mouth to hopefully deliver air to your lungs. The sirens of the ambulances huddled outside of your condominium, the blue and red lights adding on a speck of neon to the monotonous night.

"Stay with me please. Please stay with me y/n." Rafayel held you in his arms, your ice cold skin prickled against his warmth. His tears fell down his cheeks and continued its trail down your already tear-stricken face. He never thought his ruse would cause you this much damage. He thought that you could be the end to his delirium, and the start to his new reality.

The paramedics that arrived on the scene stood aimlessly at the door frame, watching the broken man in front of them, amidst the thrashed room, holding onto a lifeless body of a woman who seemingly cried herself to death.

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Angsty af, this piece is part and partial of my experience as I had once struggled with my mental health before, and it was also due to a shitty ex. But I am doing much better now, and writing this brings back those shitty feels that I used to have, but also reminded me of how much more happier and stronger I am now, and that I am not choosing death because of my ex! :)

But if any of you, do have issues with mental health, please do seek for reliable help. As cliche as it sounds, life is not at all bad if you have people that are supportive of your recovery journey. If you needed someone to rant to, my dms are always open <3.

I do not wish harm for any of my readers, and I want you guys to know that just as much as ur supporting my works, I want to be there to support you if you have any hardships in life as well. Just know that you are loved, and I love you <3.

Sincerely, Brails.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel sfw #rafayel angst

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machiavellli · 6 months

Text

Some Theodore Nott headcanons˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Notes: I’m no ff writer, but in the past couple of days @slytherinslut0 kept taking about him and so I went on the internet and did the only sane thing I had to do: search any piece of information about the actor. And ever since I discovered that Lorenzo Zurzolo is not only Italian, but from ROME, I can’t stop thing about him. I need to let out those thoughts of mine.

Now, you don’t understand. ROMAN GUYS LOVE ON ANOTHER LEVEL. Like this is very personal and subjective maybe BUT, in humble opinion, they become absolutely and utterly taken by you. It’s wonderful. Like maybe I am idolizing, but let’s take my bf as an example, Roman guy ™️, he loves like no one else. Then, girls from Lazio will probably throw tomatoes at me, but no one can stop me right now.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language, almost totally fluff. Based on personal experience. NOT PROOFREAD (class is starting RIGHT NOW)

Scusatemi per la probabilmente pessima interpretazione dei ragazzi romani, care personcine romane, io sono più del sud, ma vivo più a Nord, al Nord oltre al Nord (un bel mix if you ask me). Questa è pura esperienza personale che trasferisco su un personaggio immaginario.

-—-—-——-—-—

Theodore Nott, your Italian Slytherin guy:

He might take his time to decide if you are the one for him

BUT the moment he decides you are the one for him, he will take you out on a date in less than a week starting from now

There is no point on waiting any longer.

He will arrange the date, you just have to show up and look pretty, no need to lift a finger for anything else.

Old fashioned type of guy.

(And I feel like his fashion reflects that)

Will hold any door for you, move the chair for you, pay dinner and even your ride back home if necessary.

Maybe if you go with him for a walk after your dinner and the right atmosphere forms, you will have your first kiss with him. Something very delicate, soft, but still exciting.

He will probably ask to see you again the very next day, he can’t take enough of you.

As I said, I think Roman guys are pretty direct, they don’t waist their time, it’s either with them or nothing. No games to play.

So yeah, you might not be used to but he will ask you to be his girlfriend in a very little time (for me it was the day of my first date, but again, very personal)

Why should he wait? He likes you and that’s all that matters.

After that: you got him in a chokehold.

He will walk you to class. Every. Single. Day.

Will do absolutely anything just to spent more time with you.

He might be a little shy to start using “pet names”

Maybe he will start with a simple “amò” (short version of “love”), which is romantic, but not strictly, I also use it with my girl friends (and a more corrupted version is “amio”, but I use it only as a joke, but there are girls who actually use it and no shame on that)

Many guys usually refer to their girlfriends as “la mia tipa” (which I don’t like), and he will also do that at first, but once he gets comfortable he will always call you “la mia ragazza” (even in front of his friends)

And I have to advise you on that, he will tell you that infamous “ti amo” pretty soon too.

Again: no time to die (is this an actual English saying or am I just make it up right now?boh)

You two are watching the sunset, when you notice that he’s not looking at the sky anymore but at you

A couple of minutes pass by and you ask “what is it?”

With those big beautiful eyes and that smirk of his, he will look at you and just say “nothing amore, ti amo”

He won’t expect for you to say it back

You can wait as long as you like for telling it back, there’s no rush, no pressure to say it back

Your moroso (usually adults use this term but for me it’s cute) just wanted to let you know that he cares about you.

He will literally say “because it felt right, why should I wait?”

My man is just expressing what he feels

And you want to say no to that???crazyyyy

As I already stated, he is so kind with you and with some time he will absolutely let you know that his love language is touch.

At first in your first months of dating it’s just holding hands, an arm around you shoulder, an arm on your waist,…

And at first he won’t be always touching (and with it I mean the things I listed above) you in public.

Mama’s boy is direct but still has light sheer of shyness

How could he not. He finds you beautiful under every light.

BUT THEN

And with it I mean after you get intimate, which will take a a couple of months

Listen, if things are serious in real life, it takes a bit of time…so’ seria io quindi per me funziona così

After that he will and without holding back always touching you in public (WHICH DOESNT MEAN IN A SENSUAL WAY)

He will hold your hand, put a hand on your thigh,… this type of stuff. He just needs to know you are here with him.

Definitely the type of guy that tries to kiss you even at the worst moments.

You are speaking with someone? What does it mean that he can’t kiss you? Ao non scherziamo qua

You are his and he definitely doesn’t share

(And he’s definitely yours don’t worry, absolutely don’t worry.)

Jealous type of of guy.

Let’s be honest here: he won’t be happy about your guy friends (maybe I’m toxic but I won’t be happy about his girl friend that are not my friend first too)

If you can drop them, it’s for the best.

“Io so che cazzo pensano quelli” he will tell you a bit frustrated

My man just wants to protect you, Italian guy ™️ behavior (very common in my opinion for them to be protective, like last week an Italian guy, a friend 🅰️🅾️, from the north literally shielded me from a weird-looking fella, moving me to the other side of the street)

Sometimes he will just look at you and say “sei bellissima” with the cutest smile known to human kind

Or maybe something like “Lo sai che sei proprio bella?” while he similes at you

And yes, he will tell you always and everywhere, even with a whisper during class just to get you flushed, even if you look like shit <3

You will often find asking to yourself how a person can love you so much, care for you so much.

Like this is not a self esteem problem, even if you are extremely confident: you will ask yourself this.

Because in every flaws he finds beauty.

It’s out of this world.

He won’t in fact tolerate you taking shit about yourself and he might be even be rude about it

“Smettila con ste cazzate.”

He can’t comprehend how you could say that about yourself, “la sua amata e diletta” (si si lo so, “diletta” è come Machiavelli definisce sua moglie e sì non c’entra per nulla, ma volevo aggiungerlo, non rovinatemi la magia)

He will talk with you about your future, about how he would like to have kids with you, “pensa che bello avere dei piccoli noi che corrono in giro per casa”

And then, this one is extremely based on personal experience, after some time he will just start saying “I wanna marry you”, “Ti voglio sposare”

Even during random moments, he will look at you and just say it

Like, it doesn’t mean you are getting married right now. No. It just means that he wants you forever, he won’t leave you.

He will make you happy in every way possible (yeah even in the bedroom)

Cuddling you is THE activity for him.

And if he can lay between your thighs, that’s basically haven. He won’t stop saying “così soffici” and then kiss them.

He also loves kissing you, as passionate as it gets.

He will “hold you hair in deep devotion” (he is so “I wanna be yours” coded)

Also: “say yes to haven” coded.

He will always protect you, no matter against who.

He will choose you over anything.

If his friend are rude to you or say ANYTHING bad about you, they are over, he won’t tolerate any form of aggression on you.

You are the only woman in this world for him…like even an angel could walk by and he would still have his eyes on you only.

He won’t even look at other girls anymore, why should he? He has found la sua anima gemella dopotutto.

In the end, you really will become il suo tesoro, and the nickname tesoro will probably be the most used one.

“Ti amo tantissimo”, ti dirà ogni sera prima di darti la buonanotte.

-—-—-——-—-—

-> part II

Ahh Roman guys are my Roman Empire.

My asks are open btw!

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 6 months

Text

i want you

kinktober, day twenty-five

a/n: okay but why haven't i thought of pirate captain!miguel till now? shame on me honestly because that's way too delicious

summary: “no, please!” you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, “I have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!”

warnings: pirate captain!miguel o'hara x upper-class!reader, smut, historical au, sex as payment, stripping, kissing, slight knife kink, dirty talk

word count: 830

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“So, let me get this right,” the gruff man behind the desk glared up at you through his furrowed brows, “you want to bid passage on this vessel? You are aware of what kind of ship this is, aren’t you, miss?”

“I am,” you stood your ground.

“You, a lady,” he gestured to your fine dress, “willingly want to sail upon a pirate ship?”

“I want to get out of this town on a ship that isn’t under my father’s employ, that’s what I want.”

“What, is your bed too soft and your suiters too dashing?” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” you scoffed, averting your gaze, “something like that…”

Looking you over a moment, he then let out a heavy sigh and said, “miss, I’m gonna do you a favour and tell you to get the hell off my ship before someone comes looking for you, or worse, my crew does, and their manners aren’t what you’re accustomed to.”

“No, please!” you bellowed, tears nearly forming in your eyes, “I have money! Just name the price! I will give you anything I have to get out of here!”

Narrowing his eyes, “…anything?” his head tilted at the possibilities.

“Yes,” you nodded desperately, “would you rather have my jewellery?” your hands shot up to your necklace, “then it’s yours.”

“I don’t want your jewels,” your fingers halted around the dainty chain, “or your money for that sake.”

“No, wait, please, I don’t care where you are going, what port you drop me off at, I just have to get out of here-”

“If I help you, then I want something different.”

Gazing back at his leisurely seat in his chair, you asked breathily, “what?”

Staring what felt like directly into your soul, he then uttered, “I want you.”

Blinking back at him a moment, you then stammered, “e-excuse me, sir?”

“Christ, you really are a lady…” he chuckled briefly at your bashful reaction, “look, I presume you can retrace your steps and find your way off this boat yourself-”

“No, no, I’m sorry, please don’t, I’m sorry, I just-… you want me?”

Gazing back at you, he stated confidently, “yes.”

“What, do you want me on your crew? Because I don’t have any sailing experience-”

“No, I wanna fuck you,” a shiver ran down your spine at his crude words, “so, either take off that dress or see your way out.”

After letting your desperation sway your deliberation, you carefully began to undo the overwhelming row of tiny silk buttons down the front of your garment. Letting the top part fall to the floor, soon joined the poufy fabrics around your legs. But when you reached back to pull at the laces on your corset, the knot was too stubborn for you to manage in an effortless second.

Though suddenly, as the Captain got up and conjured a short blade from his leather boot, your fingers froze and your eyes grew in alarm, “what are you-”

“Relax,” he walked around the desk to where you stood, “I’m not gonna hurt you,” then gestured as he said, “turn around,” which you promptly did, letting out a stifled gasp as he cut through the strings, the stiff stays swiftly joining the pile on the floor. Chest heaving beneath your thin chemise, you felt his broad palm glide over your waist, begging you to turn back around, “it’s been a very long time since I’ve been with someone who wasn’t a whore…” your eyes didn’t meet his intense gaze as his touch fluttered up to ghost across your cheek, “honestly, I don’t know if I ever have…”

As your vision finally flickered up to catch his, his fingers curled to graze his harsh knuckles across your cheekbone, searching your eyes as he seized your waist with his other hand and pulled you in close to taste your lips.

His kiss wasn’t at all like you had expected. It wasn’t foul and unpleasant, no, his lips nearly caused your knees to buckle.

“You’re so soft,” his deep voice warmed you from within as he held you near, “like you’ve never lived a fucking day in your life…”

“I’ve lived,” you tilted your chin, “just not like you have, sir.”

“Oh, have you now?” a genuine chuckle bubbled out of him, “have you ever done anything like this before?” he spun you around and began to back you up, “I thought rich girls like you were kept in the dark and waited till marriage… are you married? Is it your husband that you’re running from?”

Answering both of his questions with three simple words, you uttered, “I’m not married.”

“Well, I’m not gonna take you like some stuck-up lord you’d have ended up with,” a swift hand sent parchments flying before he scooped you up onto the desk, his sly fingers playing with the softness of your stockings as he pushed your shift up your thighs, “I know way too much about pleasure to treat you that terribly…”

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #pirate!miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #oscar issac smut #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman smut #spider man smut #marvel smut #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #spider man 2099 smut

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gucciwins · 1 year

Note

Can you please write one where harry and reader, who is apart of the love band, being together and they get married without the media and the fans finding out. So when he is introducing the band he introduces her as mrs. Styles and everyone freaks out?

a/n: hiii friends! it's been a while but I am here to share another story. originally this was supposed to be something short and sweet but here is 9k of a new story I hope you enjoy 💜💜💜

Harry had fallen in love with her from the moment he saw her though he can’t say the same for Y/N. He knew it was foolish to call it love when all he knew was her name. He fell in love with how she got lost on stage playing each song. It was something he wanted to never forget. When Jeff told Harry he was going to meet Y/N, he froze and almost decided to leave, but he knew he had to see her and hear her voice because if he didn’t, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

The reason Harry was here tonight at the Roxy was because he was forming his band. He was in the middle of writing an album, and Jeff thought she would be the perfect addition. Harry didn’t know then how meeting Y/N would change his life. Harry loved telling this story to anyone who asked how they first met. It’s one he’s said during the production of his first album endless times and during interviews.

He walked up to Y/N, smiling, but it dropped when she turned around, and his eyes caught the grin she was giving him. Instead, he dropped her gaze to rest on her collarbones, where a delicate pearl necklace rested. Harry knew he was admiring her necklace, but to everyone else, it looked like he was admiring her chest. Harry only realized when Jeff nudged him. Y/N didn’t say a word, only told Harry it was great to meet him and looked forward to hearing his music.

“There is no music yet,” he told her honestly.

“What is there?” She asks, looking at him curiously.

“Heart and soul,” he confesses.

“Well, Harry. I look forward to joining you in the studio if that’s alright.”

Harry quickly nods his head. “Tomorrow if you’d like.”

Y/N shares a look with Jeff, who only shrugs, “if that’s what you’d like.” She’s called away, and Harry knows he will be counting down the minutes until he sees her tomorrow. She leans close to him, and Harry relishes her sweet cherry smell. “Next time you want to stare at my boobs, maybe don’t make it so obvious.”

Harry pulls away, shocked, at a loss for words, unable to defend himself.

“See you, Harry.” She sends him a smile that makes him feel warm, and he tries his best to commit it to memory.

Jeff claps his shoulders, unable to contain his laughter, “man, you’re down bad.”

“I’m in love,” he breathes out.

“You’re insane. That’s what you are. No way Y/N will ever date you,” Jeff laughs, but Harry is determined.

Harry shakes his head, “I’ll be sure to remember that at our wedding, where you will not be invited.”

Safe to say, Harry had to work hard for her love, but he never regretted it. Not one single moment because it led him to be loved by her.

After that studio session, Harry had no shame in asking Y/N to join his team as a writer and guitarist. She told him she’d think about it, and with the fear that her answer would be no, Harry got on his knees and begged her to say yes. She couldn’t even hold in her laugh. “Jeff thought you’d do something like this, but I assured him you’d be professional.”

Harry laughs awkwardly on his knees, looking up at her. “Is that a yes?”

Y/N shakes her head at Harry’s antics. “Yes, Styles. I’ll join this team.” Harry gets up and hugs her tightly. “With one request,” she voices.

“Anything. Absolutely anything.” Harry promised. He would give her the moon or a million dollars if she wanted.

“Sarah Jones. She has to be brought on as your drummer.” Y/N sighs then, “I don’t know if she’d say yes, but you’d be a fool not to ask.”

And like that, Harry had three members in his band.

Mitch would be hired a week later.

From there, the four of them became the best of friends. While Harry was enraptured around Y/N, trying his best to spend time with her, he missed seeing the sparks fly around Sarah and Mitch. Harry was busy when they arrived from Jamaica, having no time for the band, which broke his heart. He loved seeing them and getting dinner with them but promoting a new album was no joke.

His new friend Mitch was living in his old flat. Mitch quickly got on with Harry’s friends, but soon enough, even they did not see him. It was then he found out how Mitch was always getting dinner with Sarah, and Y/N would join occasionally. Harry knew he was more than welcome, but with the single releasing soon and tour rehearsal starting, he knew he’d seen her more than enough.

They had been rehearsing for a few days when Y/N walked into the studio in tears. Harry quickly rushed over to her, leaving Jeff to speak to himself. He looked her over and found her unharmed, but he still took her in his arms, assuring her she was okay. Harry knew it was bad because she didn’t even push him away.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he kept repeating. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was more for him or her.

Y/N pushed him away after a few minutes. Sarah was beside her, slipping her hand around her waist to support her. “My guitar was stolen,” she mutters. “I-I-I went for coffee in the shop down the street, and when I returned, my window was smashed. They only took the guitar, nothing else,” Y/N cries.

Harry feels his heartbreak for Y/N. During a restless night in Jamaica, she shared how it was her grandfather’s guitar. He gave her lessons from a young age, and her mother hated it because she always had a new cut or callous. It was a big part of her childhood, and when Y/N shared she wanted to pursue music as a career, her grandfather was the first to support her. He gifted her the guitar knowing she would produce magic with it, and he wasn’t wrong. Y/N created beautiful melodies for his first album with that guitar, the Fender J Bass American Deluxe. The one her grandfather, played on his wedding day.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he voices, knowing this heartbreak is not something he can heal. Harry immediately sends a message to all the crew and friends in the area to see if they spot her missing guitar or see someone with her guitar case. Harry tells the band they’ll meet tomorrow instead, and she is quick to disagree, stating she can play, but he promises her it’s okay. “Jeff was telling me about this meeting I have to attend.”

Jeff nods, frowning at Y/N. The band gathers around Y/N, and they’re quick to have her laughing, promising to take her to lunch.

“Y/N, your car? Is it okay?” Harry asks, knowing it can’t be safe to drive with broken glass.

“Huh,” she turns to him, confused. “Oh, uh. I drove it here. The backseat is full of glass, and I didn’t even think of anything I needed to fix.”

Harry waves her off, “I know a guy. He can take it to the mechanic. I’ll make sure to have it dropped off at your flat.”

“Harry, I couldn’t–”

He cuts her off. “Please, it’s the least I can do.” Harry knows he shouldn’t feel guilty, but if he hadn’t scheduled a band practice, then her guitar wouldn’t have been in her car and therefore stolen. Sarah assures him she’ll get Y/N home.

Y/N walks out with the band all crowding around her, and Harry knows she’s in safe hands. It doesn’t hurt that he wishes he was the one comforting her, but it’s true he has business to take care of. She just doesn’t know it’s all for her.

After the hell of the day, she had Y/N went home and cried some more. It was well into the evening when she got a text from Harry that her car would be dropped off soon. She was thankful. He was kind enough to help her. She knows other bosses would be rude and awful, but not in this industry with Harry as her boss. She opens her door to find a young man with a key in one hand and a guitar case in the other.

“That mine?” She points at it, confused.

The young fellow shrugs, “you Y/N?”

She nods silently.

“Then it’s yours.”

Y/N takes it from him, bidding the man goodnight after checking her car was out front. She hurries inside, curious as to why they also sent a guitar. She opens it up and gasps. In the case is a yellow semi-hollow Epiphone Jack Casad. She told Harry this was a dream guitar she was saving up for during their first studio session. Her name is engraved on the top of the guitar in beautiful handwriting. Y/N is careful to pick it up and is mesmerized by how nice it is. To no surprise, it’s a perfect fit in her hands, as if it was made for he

Y/N

I know there is no replacing the guitar you lost, but I was having this one made for you as a thank you for creating this album with me. I couldn’t have done it without you. Hope we can continue to create music together, and if not, because you’re too talented to stick around with someone like me, I hope you take this gift as an appreciation for my love for you.

Love, H

Harry was thinking about her because she knows a guitar takes months to make. Y/N appreciated it more than he knew. Y/N would spend the night playing with the guitar until it felt like hers. When she showed up the next day with the guitar, no one dared to say a word, but between the looks Y/N and Harry shared, they all knew.

That note would be the first sign that Y/N picked up on that maybe, just maybe, Harry liked her as more than a friend.

The album was well received, and Harry was over the moon. The first shows were nerve-wracking, but having Y/N there calmed him. She gave him pep talks assuring him that the fans would love him, and love him they did. They screamed his songs back to him, and it was easy to get lost in the feeling of being on stage. Before he knew it, they were taking off on a sold-out tour across Europe and North America.

He had started writing his second album with the help of the team and Y/N. She brought a beautiful melody, and it’s how the start of “Sunflower” kicked off the first song on the track though it would undergo various changes. He loved being in the studio with Y/N because she brought these ideas and perspectives he had never thought of. She was the heart of the album. Touring and writing with Y/N was a dream come true.

Harry was having the time of his life, but Y/N still paid him no mind. She acted as if there was nothing between them, like there was no spark, which drove him crazy. Harry watched as Mitch and Sarah fell in love, and he wanted that. He craved it with Y/N, with only her. The fact that he couldn’t have her weighed heavy on him, and it got worse when he heard rumors of Y/N going on dates. It broke him because he loved her, and she only saw him as a friend. They spent every free moment together, so the fact that she didn’t share she was seeing someone hurt because, at the end of the day, he wanted to see her happy.

He wasn’t proud of what he did next.

There was woman after woman he brought to the show. Harry didn’t know what Y/N thought, but he slowly began to pull away, needing to get lost in someone else; even if it was for an hour, Y/N could consume his thoughts for the other 23 hours. Harry wanted her to want him, to miss him, so he began bailing on lunch with her, not including her in conversations. He thought she didn’t care because she had no response. She treated him the same with a friendly smile and easy conversation.

Harry didn’t notice the change in her because he was too focused on the new person he was bringing around. If he got his head out of his ass, he would have seen every sad look Y/N shot his way. Or how Sarah urged her to talk to him, but Y/N would walk away. He didn’t see that she was slowly pushing away from not only him but the band. That she thought her days were numbered.

It wasn’t until she fell sick that Jeff told her that her backup would be able to cover for her for however long she needed. That was all the confirmation she needed to know Harry was replacing her. It broke her, but it was his band, after all.

Harry was ready to perform, huddled in the circle with the band, when he looked across from him to find unfamiliar eyes. He looked around but saw every member of his band except for her. His heart rate increased, and Harry knew he had lost her.

Sarah met his gaze and took pity on him, “she’s sick.”

At that moment, Harry wanted to cancel the show and run to her side, ensuring she was alright, but he couldn’t. He was sure it was the worst show of his life, but he didn’t have time for Jeff or anyone to give him shit for it. When he was off the stage, he drove to their hotel and pounded on her hotel room door. Then suddenly stopped when he realized that wouldn’t help her.

The door creaked open, and there was Y/N with a red nose and sleepy eyes.

“Hi, petal,” he greets softly, knowing he has to tread carefully.

She rubbed her eyes as if trying to see if he was actually there. “Harry?”

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

Y/N doesn’t respond. She steps back, opening the door wider. She locks it behind him and crawls back into bed. She tells him to stay away because he has a show tomorrow, and he knows she’s right, but he doesn’t care. He sits at the foot of her bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “I’ve been better.”

Harry hates this lingering tension. “Sorry, you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

She shrugs, “Jeff didn’t want to get you sick.”

“You’ve never gone through, Jeff before,” he reminds her.

“That was before,” Y/N muttered.

Harry sulks, letting his shoulders drop in frustration. “What you goin’ on about?”

“The fact that I’m getting sacked,” she tells him, never one to beat around the bush.

“Sorry,” he can’t believe what she is saying. “I would never.”

She scoffs, clearly not believing him. “Don’t have to lie to me. Very convenient that your friend is my replacement tonight. We clearly know I’m replaceable.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” his voice firm. He had never seen her as replaceable. His heart breaks thinking about doing a tour without her. “You created this band. I wouldn’t be having the time of my life on stage if you weren’t there next to me. You’re my best friend.”

Y/N has turned away from him, and as much as he hates it, he respects her enough to let her be. “Some way to show it,” she murmurs.

Harry hates that her voice is so weak and timid around him. She’s never once taken his shit, but here he is on the verge of losing her. “I-I,” he sighs. “I’ve fucked up badly.”

“I get that you’re dating and such, but when you start acting like a dick and treating others like they’re beneath you, that’s when you know you’ve lost against the industry.” He lets her words sink in. “I feel like I’ve lost you.”

A direct hit to the heart.

“You did nothing wrong,” Harry assures her. Y/N motions for him to explain. “I was going through shit and felt selfish going to you for help. You’ve seen me through a lot, and I didn’t want to add more,” he lies. Harry is full of lies, but he can’t tell her he loves her. Not like this. “It was easier to get lost around others that don’t care about me.”

Y/N turns to look at him. Her tired eyes are locked with his, and he knows she’s trying to read him. That he’s an open book for her, he always has been. She won’t find anything at this moment because he knows he has to bury his love for her deep inside if he wants to keep her.

“Y/N, I’m sorry for icing you out. I’m sorry for not showing you I care. You’re always my number one since the moment you entered my life. I would never dream of kicking you out of your band. I will understand if you want to leave but know you will always have a spot here with me.

“Well fuck you first,” she tells him outright. “I’m not going anywhere. I just needed you to get your head out of your ass. Though if you ditch me for a groupie, I’ll cut off your dick.”

Harry shakes his head, not surprised at all by her words. This is his girl.

“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my favorite girl.”

Those words settle deep in Y/N’s heart. When Harry pulled away from her, Y/N swore she felt a crack in her heart because it was sinking in that she was losing him, but she didn’t understand why it hurt so much to be replaced.

It wasn’t until later that night after she kicked him out of her room to stay away until she felt better she received a basket of her favorite teas and snacks from home. Even a few books she had been eyeing but had not had the time to buy. It’s when Y/N began to realize that she was in love with him. Though she had no idea how he could feel, she did the only thing she could do. She packed those feelings in a box and moved on.

Real World Studio was a dream to work at, and it was even better because he had his friends with him. Harry usually could not keep his eyes off Y/N, but tonight he wished she was anywhere but here. After seeing her on a date last night, he was fuming, and he knew it was dumb to ignore her. It was impossible in the studio. Y/N had her guitar in her lap, and it was this beautiful melody someone could get lost in. Except, he wouldn’t take the time to give it a full listen.

“H, just give it a listen,” she pleads, knowing her song's potential.

Harry exhales, “nothing special, it doesn’t fit.”

Y/N feels her anger rise at his dismissal but decides better than to argue with him. She goes to the corner of the room, dropping her guitar, not wanting the memory of Harry for the moment, and picks up Mitch’s spare. She doesn’t notice when Mitch sits next to her. Too lost in her head, cursing Harry out.

“Y/N,” she looks up at him. “It’s good.” Having heard the song a few times, Mitch now plays it on his guitar, and Y/N can’t help the smile that takes over her face. Mitch’s talent is undeniable.

Harry perks up, calling out Mitch’s name to play that song again. “Come on, Mitch, again.”

Mitch grimaces, “H, it’s—”

“Again,” Harry requests.

Mitch does as he asks but only gets a few notes in when Y/N stomps over to him. She pushes him hard, causing him to stumble. The entire room falls silent. Harry feigns confusion, not knowing what he did wrong.

“You’re an arrogant son of a bitch,” she spits angrily. Y/N walks out of the studio with her head held, and Harry deflates, knowing he went too far.

“Man, what’s up with you? That’s—you have never treated any of us like that,” Sammy tells him, confused.

Harry throws his notebook across the room in frustration, “Y/N has a fucking boyfriend and hasn’t told me. Saw her having dinner last night.”

Mitch scoffs, “so that gives you permission to be a dick.”

Sammy laughs, Harry whips his head to look at him and is about to tell him to shut up when Sammy drops a bomb on him. “I went to dinner with her last night.” Harry feels his anger bubble. “I have this friend that wants to work with her.”

Harry backs down, shoulders slumping, “I’m a dick,” he agrees.

“Think you should go find her,”

“And say what?” He looks at them for answers.

“Sorry, is a good start,” Tyler offers.

Mitch shakes his head, “he can never admit he’s sorry or that he’s the jealous type.”

Harry walks out knowing they aren’t any help but knows he does have to apologize. Y/N doesn’t deserve how he treated her. The good thing Y/N didn’t go far; she’s sitting on the hood of her car staring at the night sky.

“Y/N,” he calls out to not startle her.

“Thought you’d come out sooner,” she sasses.

He exhales, “The boys were chewing me out.”

“Hmm…”

Harry stands before her, and regret is written all over his face. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I was an asshole for my own stupid reasons.”

“Okay,” she mutters.

He takes a step closer, his hands resting on her thighs. “I’m just a jealous son of a bitch and took it out on you. I’m sorry, you’re my favorite person, and that’s no excuse for treating you this way.”

She smirked, hearing him repeat her earlier words she screamed in the heat of her anger. “I put up with a lot of your crap.”

“And I’m grateful,” he promises her.

“Maybe too much,” she teases.

Harry knows she’s right. “Then don’t anymore.”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats.

“Leave then,” she waves him off, and something inside him snaps. Her words don’t hold malice, and he’s not leaving without her. They both know that.

He steps between her legs, not giving her any room to escape him. Y/N looks at him with wide eyes, uncertain of his next move. Harry pushes a few strands of her hair back. His eyes fall down to her lips and then move back up. Before he can convince himself otherwise, Harry leans in, pressing his lips against Y/N’s. He feels her tense up, but she melts into him within the next few seconds. He leads the kiss in a steady rhythm allowing himself to get to know what she likes. It feels like coming home, and he wonders how he went so long without tasting her. He knows one will never be enough; he wants more. Harry wants all her kisses.

Y/N pulls away breathless, one look at her face, and Harry knows she’s panicking. It’s settling in quick, but Harry has always been able to calm her, a special trick he’s learned for years of knowing her. His take will be slightly different tonight.

“Y/N I l–” Y/N stops him.

“Please,” she pleads. Begging him not to say it. Harry sighs, taking a step back.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promises.

Harry walks her back to the hotel for the night with the promise of breakfast together. He hopes breakfast happens, but part of him knows it won’t happen. The following day he was informed she had checked out. All that was left was a note saying she was sorry and that she would call him soon. That same night he was on a flight to Japan.

After all, there’s an album to finish.

Two weeks in Japan weren’t enough to heal his heartbreak, but it was the perfect place to meet friends, try good food, and write new songs. He had written five new ones, and though he knew some might not make it to the album now, maybe they would for the next one.

His birthday had come along, and he spent it alone reading in a cafe. Harry got endless texts from his family wishing him a happy day, but there was one person he hoped would call. Except that she didn’t. Everyone told him to move on, but he wanted to grieve this love because Y/N wasn’t just anybody to him. She was the one. He’s willing to fight for her because he knows what it’s like to live without her and hates it. Harry misses her, but he’s also hurt.

It was early morning when there was a loud knock on his door. He stumbled out of bed in no rush to open his door. After a surprise party last night, he allowed himself to have one too many shots and now is paying the price for it. Y/N always reminded him to have some water and a Tylenol before bed on nights they went drinking.

Harry swung his door open, expecting to see Tom or Tyler but standing in front of him was Y/N. A timid smile was on her face, a large duffel hanging off her shoulder and a gift bag in her hand.

“Hi, Harry,” she broke the silence after a few seconds (minutes, he couldn’t be sure.) “I-I’m sorry to show up announced. Uh–Gems convinced me it would be a good idea.”

He has no idea why he’s here, and he can’t even ask her why she’s here because it seems he has lost the ability to speak. He never imagined her coming to Japan for him.

“I’m sorry for leaving. I’m sorry for stopping you from saying something you probably have held in for a long time.” She pauses, looking around her, nervous someone could overhear her. That’s when Harry realizes they’re standing at his doorway.

Wordlessly he moves aside to let her in. Harry locks the door behind her as she drops her bag and presents by the door. Y/N takes her time slipping off her shoes. He can spot her hands shaking but doesn’t dare comment on it.

“Harry,” she says his name with so much love it gives him a glimmer of hope. “I love you,” she shouts.

Harry was not prepared for her confession. He wasn’t prepared for her. “And I think you love me?” She questions.

Harry doesn’t answer.

Y/N looks around the room nervously. This is not how she pictured the moment on the flight here. Sure, she wasn’t expecting the warmest greeting, but she also didn’t expect silence. Y/N was not sure how to go from here. Before she can begin to think about how bad of an idea this is, Harry takes a step forward; she doesn’t dare move away. He stops until there is no space between them.

There are two things he could tell her: one would make her the happiest person alive, and the other has the possibility of breaking her. Except, there’s a third option she wasn’t thinking about because Harry was never good with his words. He always thought actions speak louder than words, so he leaned in and kissed her. This kiss was soft and full of love, nothing like their first kiss. Harry was gentle with her, like if he was rougher, she’d break or disappear. Y/N lets herself fall into Harry as he explores her mouth, their mouths moving in perfect unison until he breaks away, giving her a chance to catch her breath. Even then, he doesn’t move far away; he kisses every inch of her face until Y/N breaks into a fit of laughter due to the brush of his stubble on her skin, something he was letting grow during his time here.

“I love you,” Harry tells her. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, but it doesn’t feel like the first time, not when he’s loved her for years. “I have loved you from the very first day.”

Y/N slaps his shoulder playfully, “shut up, Harry.” She doesn’t believe him. Why would she? Y/N was a stranger, but the first time he saw her, Harry felt like he had arrived home. He was united with someone who had been missing from him all his life.

“Will never shut up,” Harry promises. “Not when I get to tell you I love you every day, every hour, every minute.”

“I’m sorry for the wait,” she holds his face in her hands, taking in his beautiful green eyes staring at her with so much love that she feels she might explode.

“You will always be worth the wait. Always, Y/N.”

December 13th had finally arrived.

“Are you really doing this?” Harry asks nervously on the chair next to her.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I told you I would.”

“Tattoos are forever,” he reminds her.

Mateo, her tattoo artist, places the stencil on her ribs as Harry checks in for the tenth time to see if she really wants to be tattooed. “The cherries on my ass are a good reminder I know what I’m doing.”

Harry sinks back in his chair, defeated. “It’s just this is permanent. These are my lyrics going into your skin forever.”

“Oi, give me some credit, would you? Worked on these songs with you. This one is special. I want it with me forever,” Y/N vows.

Today, his second album Fine Line was released for the world to hear. Every time he released music, he gave a bit of himself away from Lights up to Cherry; these were his stories on love, identity, and heartbreak. Harry knows he didn’t do it alone, but his fans don’t care for the process; they want the stories and meanings of each song. He won’t give them that, not now, not ever. Y/N, his guitar player and now also his girlfriend, was getting a tattoo in honor of the second album they have written together being released.

“I thought you’d get a sunflower tattooed or even a watermelon,” he smirks at the last suggestion.

Y/N scoffs, “you dirty-minded lover.”

“You love it,” he tells her.

She does. She really does. “Doesn’t matter. I love you. I want to know that no matter what, we’ll be alright. I would go through hell and back for you, so what better way than to get those words that mean so much to me.”

Harry knows there’s no chance she’s leaving without the tattoo, so he relents letting Mateo begin. “I love you.” And that’s enough for now. It seems he will have to get a new tattoo for her seeing as she’d have his handwriting etched in her skin forever.

He was going crazy and set to go on stage in twenty minutes, yet no one could find Y/N. Harry had called her again and again, yet no answer. He knew she hadn’t left the venue, but somehow everyone on staff could not find her. It wasn’t until he found Y/N in a small green room sitting with his special guest of the night, Stevie Nicks. They were lost in conversation and didn’t even hear him come in.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, relieved. He shoots a text to Jeff that he found her.

Y/N grins up at him, and simple as that, all his worry evaporates. “Hi, pretty.”

To no surprise, Harry’s face heats up at the compliment. “Poppet went crazy searching for you.”

Stevie stands up, “oh, that’s my fault. I just had to steal her away. It’s been some time since we’ve been able to catch up. Nice to know you took my advice.”

“Actually, Stevie–” Y/N begins, but Harry interrupts her.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. We’ve got to get Y/N ready to stage soon.” Harry pushes her towards the door.

Y/N makes a show of rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically. “Bye, Stevie, always an honor.”

Harry promises Stevie to see her soon, all while Y/N mutters how she can’t believe he embarrassed her in front of Stevie Nicks. He knows she’s joking but never makes anything easy for him.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Hmm…”

“I love you,” and like magic, she melts into him, allowing him to take her towards his dressing room as he grabs her in-ears and prepares her to head out on stage.

“Love you, Harry. Proud of you. It’s your big day.” She’s been telling him all week, from listening parties to the Spotify event to last night at 9pm when the album dropped on the West Coast to this very moment.

“Our, our special day,” he reminds her.

Y/N waves him off, “your album. I’m just the guitar player.”

Harry won’t have that. He approaches Y/N, gently lifting her face to look at him. She’s staring at him with those glimmering eyes full of love. “You’re the muse of this album, but you’re also the co-writer. You play a killer solo in She that Mitch is begging for you to let him play. This album is ours, but it is also entirely yours. I am entirely yours.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “Ours,” she repeats.

It ends up being a perfect night. A show they’ll go on to share with friends, family, and future generations for years to come.

Gearing up for tour after a successful album had everyone buzzing, except everything came to a halt because of a pandemic affecting the entire world. Everyone was taking the needed precautions to keep the safety of others in mind. Harry and Y/N decided to stay with Mitch and Sarah because it was better to be with others during this challenging time.

As awful as everything was in the world, Harry was grateful for the time to flourish his relationship with Y/N.

It gave them a chance to fall more in love with each other. He learned all her childhood stories, and she learned that he was an early riser and liked his coffee dark. They used this time to write an album full of love, longing, and heartbreak. It was their love story in the strangest of ways. He knew the album might not be well received, but he loved it. Most importantly, Y/N loved it, and that’s all that mattered.

They stayed in California with friends for nearly a year until it was safe to fly home. It was then that they knew they would have to split a way to stay with family. Harry was not ready to let her go, not when he had her for all this time. Instead, he followed along to where she called home. Her baby sister was overjoyed to have Y/N home. Lila got to show Y/N all the knitting supplies she had gotten. Even all the plushies she made Y/N because they reminded Lila of her. (The bunny was his favorite, he got to keep it because he asked nicely.) Harry would never forget meeting Lila for the first time, seven years old, and worshiping the ground Y/N walked on. He understood the feeling very well. Y/N had brought her along for a rehearsal and, by the end of the day, had a meltdown because Harry mentioned them leaving for months. Lila begged Y/N not to go, to quit saying that she’d be able to take care of her if she stayed. Harry saw Y/N’s heartbreak and was tempted to step in, but he knew it wasn’t his place.

“I hate you,” the young girl whispered when Y/N rushed off to get tissues. His heart broke knowing he was the reason she was hurting so much. “Fire her, fire my sister,” she pleaded.

Y/N returned with sympathy in her eyes, and Harry knew nothing he could say would make her feel better. “Poppet, you know those are harsh words. We don’t say them unless we mean them.”

“I do. I mean it,” Lila sniffled.

Y/N shook her head, wiping her younger sister’s tears away. “No, you don’t. You know how I know?” Lila shook her head. “Because you’ve got the biggest heart in the entire world. I know there is no way you can hold any darkness in there.”

Lila wraps her arms around Y/N’s neck, and Harry knows he should leave and give them space, but he’s in awe at how well Y/N is validating her sister’s feelings. There’s no telling her to stop crying, only trying to make her understand.

“I’m leaving, poppet. It’s my dream,” Y/N whispered. “I told you stories about being on stage that it’s my second favorite thing to do.”

“First is painting with me?” Lila questions.

Y/N laughs, “you know it.”

“Okay,” Lila hides her face in Y/N’s neck. “I love you.”

Y/N kissed her sister’s cheek. “I love you too.” They squeeze each other tight, relishing in being together. “Now I think you owe someone an apology.”

Lila sighed but did as Y/N requested. She walked towards Harry with Y/N standing behind her. “I’m sorry, Mr. Styles. You have to promise to care for her. She loves tea in the morning with lemon poppy muffins.” Lila shares making Harry and Y/N laugh. He keeps a mental note to make sure it’s always available for her during tours and meetings.

Harry kneels down to be at Lila’s level, knowing it will make them at an even level. “I promise to look after her. If you ever need her home, all you have to do is call, and I’ll have her on the first flight back to you.”

Lila's eyes widen in surprise, “you can do that?”

“I’m the boss,” he whispers.

Y/N rolls her eyes at him, but mouths thank you.

Harry kept true to his word, there was only one time when Lila called, and that’s all Y/N needed to say for him to assure her that it was okay to go. He went as far as buying her a first-class plane ticket. Lila fell, broke her arm, and needed her sister home. She was gone for five days, the longest days of his life, but when she returned, Y/N gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. It’s something he will never forget.

Now at twelve years old, Lila “tolerated” Harry. Y/N told him Lila was joking, but a part of him knew it was true he had taken her favorite person away. Harry knew he’d be heartbroken having Y/N leave him and hated that he made Lila experience that time and time again.

“You break her heart, Harry, and I break you,” she threatened with her fist in the air.

“Woah, there, Rambo. No need to defend my honor,” Y/N giggled. “Just because you’re doing kickboxing classes doesn’t mean you need to go punching anyone.”

“I will if he makes you cry,” Lila tells her while keeping her eyes on Harry.

He found this amazing because Harry was the younger sibling. He knew what it was like wanting to defend his older sister, not that she ever let him. He knew Gemma didn’t need protecting. “If anyone will do any crying, it’s Harry,” Y/N tells her sister. Y/N winks at him before turning her attention back to Lila. “He cries at The Lion King.”

“He does?” Lila says in disbelief.

Harry scoffs playfully, “that was a secret.”

Lila steps forward and taps his hand twice in what he assumes is her way of showing sympathy. “There, there. I understand. Scar is the worst villain. Let’s watch it now.”

She pulls him away as Y/N mouths for him to remember to cry. Harry knew Y/N wanted her favorite people to get along, and if he had to cry during Mufasa’s death to get on a young girl’s good side, then so be it. Harry knows he would do anything for Y/N.

After a few months with Y/N’s family, they traveled to his family. When his mum saw him, she burst into tears and did not let him go for over ten minutes. Y/N got reacquainted with the cats then it was her turn for a long cuddle. His mother was in good hands, but returning home always made him realize how much he has missed.

“Gems has gotten into a puzzle,” Anne shares as she serves them.

Harry laughs, “not surprised.”

“H got really good at poker,” Y/N chimes in.”

“And you miss paint by number,” he teases.

Anne smiled fondly, seeing them tease each other as she took in the love clearly displayed on his face. “I can’t believe you’ve filmed movies.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “oh, Anne, he’s such a drama queen. Oh, that’s not what I ordered. It was a green smoothie, not pink,” Y/N mimics his accent awfully, making Anne burst out laughing.

“Mum, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Anne shrugs, “she’s always been my favorite.”

Y/N sticks her tongue at him, happy to return to conversing with Anne. Harry knew his mum was right; she had always been his favorite too.

With filming complete and the world a bit safer. It was time to get back on the road. Harry had a completed album that he was not ready to share yet. He wanted to enjoy singing songs from Fine Line before adding more to his setlist. Prepping for this tour, there were many new changes. For one, he hired Pauli Lovegood as his musical director, and the band had never sounded better.

Harry was not surprised to see how well Pauli and Y/N got on. They were two people who instantly clicked when first meeting. Harry had many conversations with Pauli about the band and the chemistry and trust he liked to have on stage. Pauli stated that Y/N was the heart of the band and didn’t even realize it. Harry knew every time he got on stage because she kept him calm and safe each night. Sure, everyone raved about Sarah calling it Sarah’s band, and he didn’t doubt it for a second, but there was a special energy Y/N brought that no one was able to replicate.

“Y/N goes out on stage every night like it might be her last,” Pauli shared after a rehearsal. They just didn’t realize Y/N was behind him listening.

“Is that a bad thing?” Y/N asks.

Pauli shakes their head. “Not at all. It makes your performance special.” He points back to the stage. “Because that was sound check. You played as if the crowd was already here.”

Y/N ducks her head, flustered, not realizing that Pauli was complimenting her.

“Does that mean he won't ever fire me?” Y/N laughs, knowing it’s a dumb question.

Harry swings his hand over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “I’d be an idiot to let you go. You know the only reason you’ll leave this job is if you decide that.”

His words are true. Y/N has had many opportunities and offers to join another band or become a songwriter working with different artists, but it’s not what she wants.

During the tour, Y/N and Harry celebrate two years of dating. It’s a significant milestone for both of them because they had always had a slight fear of commitment, but together forever doesn’t seem long enough. It’s a cold day in November for Los Angeles, but Y/N doesn’t seem to mind since she dragged Harry to Malibu beach with her.

They held hands as they walked down the shore, seagulls flying high and the beach vacant. No one is brave enough to visit the ocean during this cold season. Y/N had told him that water calms her; it reminds her there is so much more to life, and though she might never have the chance to learn about it, the world keeps turning.

“We’re almost going home,” Harry comments.

Home is London, in her small flat, while Harry goes to his large mansion. There are small details they have to work through, seeing as during this entire tour, they have never slept apart, even when Harry manages to push her buttons.

“I’m excited to see Lila,” Y/N tells Harry. She talked to her sister as much as possible, but time zones made it difficult. “She’s grown two more inches, mum said.”

Harry kisses her temple, there is so much they sacrifice for the life they live, but he wouldn’t change it for the world because it led him to Y/N.

“Soon, you’ll see her soon,” he promises. Little does she know that in a few days, time in New York, Y/N will be hugging her sister, and Harry will happily share her because nothing makes him happier than seeing her happy. “I love you, Y/N.”

Y/N nudges his shoulder playfully, “alright, you sap. I love you too. Come on, I'm getting hungry.”

Harry stops walking. She doesn't notice until he has let go of her hand. She looks back at him confused but finds him kneeling on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand. Y/N doesn’t give him a chance to open it when she’s jumping on him, knocking him back into the sand. She’s crying against his chest, whispering yes over and over again.

He laughs, “I haven’t even asked, love.”

She sniffles, “what are you waiting for?”

Harry sits up, but Y/N doesn’t move from her place on his lap, sandy ring box back in his hand. He knows her answer, but his nerves are back, making his hands shake. Y/N notices and grabs his hands, pulling them to her chest. “Y/N, meeting you in 2015, I knew you were special. From our first conversation, I knew I could fall in love with you, and fall I did. It seems I’m still falling even now. You’re the reason the sun rises every morning and why the moon shines bright at night. You’re the reason why I wake up with a smile every day. You make the hard times bearable and the good times memorable. Y/N Y/LN, will you do me the biggest honor and marry me?”

Y/N has endless tears running down her face, but her smile is bright. “Yes, Harry. I will marry you. Forever with you is all I want.”

Harry leans in and kisses his fiancé.

His fiancé.

Y/N is his fiancé.

Anthony and a few friends gather somewhere in the distance, taking photos and videos for them. Y/N lets herself get lost in the feeling of his lips against hers. It’s slow and passionate. They are pouring every ounce of love into each other. This is the start of forever.

“We’re getting married,” she laughs against his lips.

“We are. Today, tomorrow, in a month, a year. Whenever you want, I will marry you,” Harry promises her. He hopes it’s sooner rather than later.

“Let’s go home. I want to celebrate.”

Their family could wait on the news. Tonight was all theirs.

On April 29th, 2022, Harry married the love of his life in a private villa in Italy with their closest friends and family. It was the perfect day, the sun shining bright, and the Amalfi ocean gave them a wonderful breeze.

“Today’s the day,” he whispered as Y/N sat in his lap out on the balcony of their room. Everyone told them it was bad luck to see each other before the wedding, but Y/N didn’t believe in superstitions, and Harry couldn’t bring himself to say goodnight to her after their rehearsal dinner.

Y/N sighs, leaning back into him. “Feels like I’ve been waiting for you all my life.”

Harry laughs, “I think I did all the waiting.” From the start, he always thought she’d never see him as anything more, but he is hours away from making her his wife.

“Mhm…you’re right. Sorry for the wait.”

Harry kisses her exposed shoulder. “I’d wait forever for you, my heart.”

Y/N turns, taking in his expressions. Glimmering eyes and a shining smile, he was about to become her husband. “Let’s go get married, Mr. Styles.”

“After you, Mrs. Styles.”

Mr. and Mrs. Styles, it was music to his ears.

After getting married with Sarah as their officiant, and Lila as their flower girl, they had a beautiful reception. There were speeches from Jeff quoting that Harry knew he would marry Y/N from the minute he set eyes on her to Y/N’s mum, Roslyn entrusting Harry to make her little girl happy for the rest of their life. Even Lila got up to the microphone making Harry promise to share Y/N with her still because she was her’s first. Harry assured the young girl he'd do anything Lila asked of him if it made Y/N happy. It was the most beautiful day, one he would never forget.

They went on a month-long honeymoon and returned blissfully happy, ready to perform to thousands of people each night.

The tour began in Glasgow. A sold-out stadium all for him. Harry was ready to share the stage with his wife and best friends. He was prepared to go out and have the time of his life with his fans, but he could not stop crying. Y/N tried her best to comfort him and was doing well, but she was buzzing, wanting to take it all in. He had done this many years ago with four other boys, his brothers. Harry was okay never doing anything at that level again, but here he was about to play his first stadium of many in Europe.

“Y/N does not want to leave the stage,” Luis rushes in, exhausted, knowing it’s a bit of a walk from the dressing room to the stage.

Harry laughs, shaking his head. She told him she loved the stage and didn’t want to be elsewhere. He didn’t really believe her, but Y/N kept true to her words.

“Let’s go get her.”

It turns out Harry had to carry her out. He threw her over his shoulder as she screamed to let her stay. They knew it wasn’t possible with fans about to be let in and the opener set to perform in a few hours. Harry was happy to share these moments with her.

They were preparing for their third sold-out night in Wembley, and Harry was happy because he and Y/N had many friends and family coming out to support them. Harry knows that through the years, the audience has come to love his band, also known as the “Love Band,” while Mitch and Sarah were crowd favorites, and Pauli’s dance move always had the fans screaming it was Y/N who managed to steal everyone’s hearts. She didn’t have to try hard. Y/N had that charm about her, from smiling at fans who locked eyes with her to signs made for her to pose for a fan's camera and especially when she handed out guitar picks at the end of the night. Y/N loved walking down the side to reach the middle, and Harry got to see how each interaction she had with a fan only made her shine brighter.

Today was different; Y/N and Harry sang together during soundcheck. Lila was there and begged for Y/N to sing, then two sisters with similar pouts stared at him, begging him to say yes. There was no telling them no, and Harry sang Sweet Creature with his wife to a young girl who could not stop smiling. Harry was thankful to have Anthony here capturing everything because he knew he wanted to remember this for years to come.

“I’m pretty sure fans heard us,” Y/N tells him as she plays with her ears.

Harry shrugs, “they’ve never heard you sing before.”

“Heyy,” she frowns. “Be nice to your wife.”

He smirks. He will never get tired of hearing that. “My dear wife, I apologize for hurting your feelings. Will you forgive me?”

She taps her lips twice, “kiss?”

He leans in, happy to comply with her wishes. She hums against his lips. Harry is tempted to take it farther but knows there is no time for that now.

“Love you, Y/N. Thank you for sharing the stage with me,” he whispers, feeling overwhelmed.

Y/N grins, “thanks for paying me the big bucks to be here,” she teases.

Harry groans, giving her a loving tap on her butt. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you love me,” she sing-songs.

“I do. I always will.”

He doesn’t know where life will take him and Y/N, but he knows it will all be alright as long as they are together.

A year ago, he played at Wembley stadium and was freshly married. Now he has celebrated his first anniversary and was back to play four sold-out nights. Harry’s House is out to the world and has received so much love from fans to the Grammys. He remembers winning album of the year, the most prestigious award of the night, and how tempted, he was to kiss Y/N there because this album is a love letter to each other. The new album gifted him so much, but there will be nothing better to Harry than sharing the stage with Y/N as he sings songs they wrote together.

“Wembley, the last time I was here wasn’t long ago, but things have changed in my life.” A dramatic pause. “For the better,” he assures the audience. “Thank you for having me back. Now let’s dance.”

The night moves on with Harry coming to bother Y/N more than ever, but she doesn’t mind. She gives it right back before sending him off to bother Mitch, who stays stoic, not letting Harry’s antics bother him. “Now, Wembley, you have been the most amazing crowd tonight.” The screams get louder as they listen to him talk. “But I couldn’t have done this alone.”

Harry introduces the band, going through everyone, purposely skipping Y/N. The band looked around, confused, but Y/N did not take her eyes off Harry, who was stepping closer to her. “Now you all know and love her, give it up for Y/N Styles!” Harry kneels down on a knee gesturing to Y/N.

Y/N smirks as the crowd falls silent, taking in the confession Harry dropped on them. The cameras pan over to her, and she gives a wave with her right hand, her left stays resting on her guitar where she’s sure the fans can see the engagement ring and wedding ring resting on her fourth finger, no longer on a chain around her neck but on display for everyone to see. Harry talked to her about the plan earlier in the day and decided to wear it to show it off.

After a moment, the fans seemed to have processed his words and began to scream and cheer. It’s louder and overwhelming, but Y/N takes it in stride as Harry laughs, looking out at the crowd. Harry brings his microphone up to speak, but the screams get even louder. Y/N shakes her head in disbelief, unable to understand if it’s excitement or shock.

“Sorry,” Harry giggles into the microphone. “I know her as Y/N Styles. Give it up for Y/N Y/LN. But please address her as Y/N Styles. The paperwork was endless,” he jokes to the audience of 90,000.

Sarah gives Y/N a crazed look, but Y/N shrugs. It was bound to come out, but she was glad they had the power to choose how and when. No better place than on stage doing what they both love.

“Alright, alright,” Harry begins trying to settle the cheers, but they are not stopping. It’s been going on for minutes, and Y/N’s just taking it all in, loving the support they are receiving. “Thought you came here for me,” he tries.

Y/N laughs into her microphone, making Harry look at her with a fake pout. “Oh, enjoy this, Y/N. You’re fired.”

She rolls her eyes, knowing he’s joking. The entire band knows he wouldn’t dream of doing this every night without her.

“Do you want a song?” Harry asks his crazed fans.

“Together?” Y/N asks into the microphone. The fans have no idea how to react anymore. This show will be going down in history; that’s all Y/N knows.

She steps close to Harry, who welcomes her in a hug, careful with her guitar.

“Which one, love?” Harry inquires, even though he already knows the song she will pick.

Y/N flashes him a pearled smile, “love of my life.”

Harry looks out at the audience and then turns back to Y/N. He takes her ring hand and kisses her wedding band. “Seems only fitting.”

liked by mitchrowland, harrystyles, and 233,804 others

pillowpersonpp she’s a rockstar and a wife

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yourinstagram I LOVE YOU! Thank you for marrying us

pillowpersonpp its the least i could do since you're the reason i met my husband

harryfan1 pause…i did not know this

harryfan2 i would marry her too

mitchrowland the best guitarist!

harryfan3 I love her friendship with y/n

liked by yelyahwilliams, harrystyles and 4,534,266 others

yourinstagram officially the better styles

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annetwist a wonderful addition to the family

gemmastyles you know what…you’re absolutely right.

_basselin oh my friend! Lovely photos 💗

fan1 wedding photos dropping! pray for me

fan2 the most beautiful couple congrats

fan3 rockstar marries rockstar

harryfan I really thought he was never going to marry 😭

liked by anthonypham, harrystyles, and 322,456 others

lloyddddddddddddddddd the (not so) newley weds 🤍

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annetwist I have these framed at home

anthonypham had the absolute joy of capturing our friends wedding with you

yourinstagram forever grateful! h and i love you boys

yourinstagram 🫶

harrystyles thank you for capturing our special day

jefezoff they really spent the entire day in their own bubble

fan1 STOPPPPPP he shot the wedding! Oh i'm so jealous

liked by niallhoran, shaniatwain, and 9,672,655 others

harrystyles every moment on stage is special when i get to share it with you, my heart

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glenne_azoff the prettiest girl!

yourinstgram i love you! thanks for falling in love with me back in 2015, baby

harrystyles thank you for joining my band in 2015

paulithepsm y/n the heart of the band

jefezoff I'll take credit for introducing you to y/n by you naming your first born after me

harrystyles fuck off

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lovebandupdates HARRY AND Y/N SINGING LOML AT WEMBLEY AFTER ANNOUNCING THEIR MARRIAGE

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fan1 all i can do is cry

fan2 it really is the love band *cries*

fan3 how long do we think he’s been married

fan4 I was there tonight 😭😭😭 harry is so in love

fan1 spill babes spill

fan4 okay so they sing right and it's the most perfect duet. y/n has a perfect voice that fits harry's perfectly. the song finishes and harry holds her in an embrace for a long time. they come back out and harry has a new ring on his left hand but he basically spends the last of the show kissing her cheek and dancing with her. harry is so in and y/n looks at him with so much love in her eyes. a perfect match

fan3 why you got to say all that. 🥺😭 I am never recovering from this

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