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talaok · 10 months

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I love your fics so much! Could you maybe write one where reader is very insecure about being on her period because her past boyfriends were grossed out by it but Pedro is just being the sweetest. Like maybe bleeding through on his bed and freaking out and apologizing but Pedro is just being sweet about it?

I think I got this request a while ago also for joseph quinn, which makes me wonder how many awful men you have encountered in your life babes

The sun shined through the open window as a gentle gust of wind tussled your hair, waking you from a peaceful sleep.

You felt something on your chest, and as you opened your eyes, found Pedro's hand and arm shamelessly extended on it.

He always wanted to keep you close, even in the middle of summer.

You soaked in the feeling for a moment, breathing in a slow breath as you let your eyes travel over to his figure.

A small smile involuntarily drew itself on your lips as you took in his puffy eyes and gaped mouth as he slept like a baby.

A smile that grew wider as you recalled how he once told you that he had always had trouble sleeping, but since he slept in bed with you, he had never had that problem again.

he had told you so casually, like it was nothing, but each time you watched him sleep, his words came back to melt your heart.

You wiggled under the thin blanket, trying to get rid of it as the heat started getting to you, but just as you did, you couldn't help but freeze as your eyes focused on the white blanket covering the mattress.

There was a red stain. Right between your legs. right on the fucking bed. His fucking bed.

Shit.

shitshitshit

No this can't be it, your period wasn't supposed to come for another three days, what the fuck?

"fuck" you absentmindedly cursed, as your eyes filled with panic.

What the fuck am I gonna do now?

"good morning to you too" Your boyfriend's voice startled you.

Nonono

You turned around to find a lazy grin on his lips.

"g-good morning" you gulped, your mouth suddenly dry.

He must have still been a little asleep because he didn't notice your tone as he leaned up to give you a quick kiss, but once you didn't reciprocate, too much in your head to do anything but wish to disappear, then he asked:

"what's wrong?"

Oh god

To say you wanted to run away was an understatement.

"I-" you squeezed your eyes shut, praying to however was listening to make this all disappear.

"what? What happened" his eyes wrinkled with worry.

"I just..." you let your eyes set to where the stain was, and he followed your glare.

"I'm sorry" you whispered, suddenly not able to talk in more than a thread of voice "I'm-I'm so sorry baby, I'll clean it up right away- I just- It wasn't supposed to come already" you muttered "I'm so sorry, please don't be mad"

His silence was killing you, and once he raised his head to look at you again, your heart began to race as you waited for his inevitable disgusted reaction.

"mad?"

Why did he sound genuinely confused?

"I-yes, I just... I know it's kind of... gross"

And there it was again, a confused frown persisted on his face.

"What are y- Baby what are you talking about?" he asked, his tone gentle, like he was honestly asking "It's not gross, and I'm definitely not mad" A smile pulled at his lips "Why would I be? It's normal, it's-human"

what?

Your brain couldn't comprehend his words

"w-what?"

His smile got wider as one of his hands reached up to stroke your cheek "Sweetheart why would I be mad that you got your period? It doesn't make any sense"

A breath got caught in your throat "A-are you being serious?"

"yes" he promised, smiling "Of course I am baby"

"oh" you breathed "I just- I thought you would have been grossed out by it"

"I could never be grossed out by anything concerning you, angel" he promised, his eyes boring into yours "I love you way too much for that" he smirked, kissing your cheek.

"Now let's go have a shower so I can help you get cleaned up"

"b-but what about the bed?"

"I'll worry about the bed later. Let's go" he continued, getting up from the bed and settling in front of you.

"c'mon" he urged with grabby hands

You accepted his invitation and got up with his help.

"thank you" you said

"for what?"

"Just...for being you"

And to that, he laughed softly

"anytime, sweetheart"

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cevansbrat0007 · 1 year

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I’m feeling a little sick and in pain .. and I’m just chillin’ out rereading your trio fics for the zillionth time ( they’re AMAZING). I just wish I was Story for like 5 minutes 🥹 I could use some Ari cuddles .

In Sickness & In Health: A Trio Drabble

Summary: Daddy Ari takes care of you when you're sick.

Warnings: Fluff, Sick Reader, Daddy Ari, Daddy Kink, Implied Smut, Sex Toys (mentioned), Punishments (mentioned), Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Hope you feel better, my sweet anon friend! This drabble is a part of my Trio Series AU. Likes, Comments, & Reblogs are appreciated. All mistakes are my own.

___

"Well, look who's finally awake." Ari purrs as he takes a seat beside you on the bed. He strokes one big, slightly calloused hand across your damp brow - grateful that your fever had finally broken. "How are you feeling, sweetness?"

"Achy." You rasp. "I'm so sore, Ari."

"Mmm." Your man hums as he helps you sit up. "My poor baby." Once he's got you comfortable, Ari hands you a glass of water. But he doesn't let go. Instead he holds it to your lips, encouraging you to take your time with slow, steady sips.

Only when he's convinced you've had your fill does he set the empty glass back on the nearby nightstand.

"Good girl." He gently cups your face then, his thumb caressing the apple of your cheek. For a moment you allow yourself to get lost in his rich blue eyes.

This man, your Big Beast, had all but refused to leave your side for the past week as he sweetly nursed you back to health. He'd fixed you tea, fed you soup, and cuddled you close - all while a terrible fever had ravaged your body.

He'd even called off work for you, dismissing your feeble protests when you tried to assure him that you would be just fine on your own. Yeah, that absolutely would not fly with a man like Ari Levinson. He was your Daddy, which meant that it was his duty to care for you. Even more than that, it was is privilege.

Both in sickness, and in health.

And when you'd tried to point out that since you weren't married, those vows didn't apply he'd simply shushed you before pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

But you also had no idea how often Ari held your hand while you slept, his soulful gaze focused intently on your naked ring finger.

"Soon." He would whisper into the air, letting his quiet vow fill the room. "I'm going to get you all better, baby. And then I'm gonna work on giving you my last name."

Your Daddy has no doubt that you'll say "yes" to him one of these days. After all, he's a very persistent man, the kind who always gets what he wants.

And what he wants is you. For today, tomorrow, and every day after that.

Because you are a treasure worth keeping. So, yes. He will keep you - in sickness and in health.

The deep timbre of his voice inadvertently pulls you from your reverie. "Are you hungry, my love. Need more water?" Unable to be without you a moment longer, he pulls you close - gently hauling your small frame into his lap. "I've missed you, Bird."

Instead of responding, you bury your face in his broad chest and inhale his crisp, clean scent. Somehow Ari always managed to smell of clary sage and bergamot.

There was no use in trying to deny it - you were well and truly addicted to this man.

And while this man slept next to you every night, it had been days since he'd taken your body. Even now as you battled sickness, you still ached for him.

"You're not due for another round of meds for at least another hour. " He informs you, his heart seizing just a touch when you let out a pitiful moan. "What do you need from Daddy right now?"

You simply shake your head, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt as you contemplate the best way to undo the buttons.

Ari already knows. But he wants to hear you say it.

His nimble fingers tangle their way into your curls, lightly playing with the silky strands. "How else can I make my baby feel better? Are you still cold?"

"I want you." You mumble, briefly pulling away so that he can see the longing in your tired eyes. "I always feel so much better when you hold me."

Ari smiles down at you then, warmth suffusing his handsome features. "If that's what my baby wants." He scrubs a hand over his beard making quick work of unfastening those stupid buttons.

He was always wearing shirts like that - mostly because he loved how desperate you became whenever you attempted to undo them yourself. It usually ended with you ripping the damned thing in two, buttons scattering this way and that.

"I'm gonna set my alarm for an hour." He tosses the shirt to the side and then helps get you settled back in his king-sized bed. "And when we wake up I'm going to feed you and then you're going to be my good girl and take your medicine." He whispers a trail of soft, sweet kisses along your collar bone.

You'd already lost a little too much weight for Ari's liking.

"Okay." You whisper, snuggling into his comforting embrace.

"All of it, baby. Even the yucky stuff."

You make a face, choking back a weak gag.

"I mean it, little girl. And then Daddy's gonna get you into a warm bath. You want me to help you wash your hair?"

"Yes, Sir." You feel your eyes begin to droop. "Can I please have the pink bubbles too?"

"Of course you can, Princess." Ari coos as his hand rubs the small of your back.

"And my toys?" You're slurring now as sleep begins to overtake you.

Your Big Beast chuckles at that, the sound of his amusement rumbling deep in his chest. "I'm afraid not. You're still too sick for us to play any special games right now."

"But I'm not." You whine as the world slowly begins to fade away. All that mattered was Ari. As long as you were in his arms, everything would be okay.

"Hush, brat." He murmurs into your hair. "We'll make up for lost time once we get you on the mend. But if you keep pushing it, Daddy'll have to add a note about you being naughty to your punishment tally. Is that what you want?"

"No thank you, Sir."

"Thought so." Ari gives your ass a gentle squeeze and then a slap. Even sick, your man would never let you forget that he was Daddy. And his word was law.

"Sweet dreams, Daddy."

"You are my dream, sweetness. Now please get some rest. I promise I'll be right here when you wake up."

That's all you need to hear. Your Daddy continues to pepper your face and neck with more kisses as you fall asleep with the knowledge that you were in this together. For better or worse.

In sickness and in health.

END

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athanasius-symposium-of-writings · 2 months

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NSFT Alphabet: Frederick Kreiburg

I didn't realize I had a lot of feelings about him until writing this

Warnings: trauma

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Frederick is touch starved without actually knowing it. He knows he appreciates your affection and how you often give him attention with it, but to give it back is different. He does wipe you down, cleaning the mess between your legs and his after takes a second to gather himself.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands, it is sad but probably the only thing of value he sees of himself physically. I know it overused “hands” but as a musician, it is all he has next to his ears. He likes your eyes, your eyes that watch him when he plays. Your eyes stare in wonder as he explains his pieces to you. Your eyes reflect himself and how they see him as him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He is not one for the mess, rather cum on you than in you to wipe it off but there are moments when he gets jealous that he will cum inside of you. He will make sure you feel it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Foot fetish and no it is not sucking toes. It is devotion, slipping your shoes off, massaging them, kissing the top of your foot up to your knee. It is a worship, his complete attention on you, to have you at ease. It is also a big submissive act for him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not a lot. Frederick only slept with barely a handful and was not enjoyable for him. It was done because of his position as a wealthy musically talented man, he did what was expected of him— Nothing more.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Frederick is not creative so missionary usually or doggy style when he gets possessive-ish. Not creative.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Frederick is at first serious, too serious. It kinda is intimidating. You make him laugh, help him enjoy the moment and show it this doesn't have to be taken so seriously.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not much hair, and a little happy trail. He usually shaves it off, it is uncomfortable for him.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Frederick can be romantic. But again he is intense and focus; you gotta help him get out of that “automatic” mode.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He doesn't, just doesn't see the point or care for it. He has however enjoyed watching you masturbated

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Frederick is not a kinky person, he is vanilla (outside if foot festish). Maybe you can introduce him to some things, but you gotta respect that he might not do those things too. It could overwhelm him

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom, very private man.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your scent, meaningful conversation, and the debates you have with him about anything.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Voyeurism, Exhibitionist, he really can't do those

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving, can give back but he likes sees you service him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Average slow then building up to fast.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

No. He refuses, do this properly or not at all.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

No risk, but will experiment with minor cross dressing. Nothing big, just little things that make him look sexy (lingerie or light makeup).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

One or two rounds. Foreplay helps.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No and yes. It makes him have mix feelings until you both try it on each other then he will okay it for special occasions.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

25% unfair. Teases but gives in easily. It depends on his mood though too.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Frederick hates that he is loud, he used to silence himself with others because his moans are loud and not “masculine groaning” enough. With you, he learned you enjoy it and became something he no longer had to hide with you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Frederick, to me, seems like he was objectified. Being both talented, a man of status, and a Kreiburg; he had to do whatever was expected of man of that time. He has issues with his masculinity because he was both a man with power but yet used like a man with no power. He was heavily sought after by women and often pushed into having sex. It left him with body image issues and a level of disdain towards sex. He only offered it to you as a form of using it over you until you tell him your feelings for him are genuine. He stops having sex with you for a while, learning self love with you. Frederick needs it, he needs someone gentle but strong for him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average, sorry lol

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not high, it low actually

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Depends on if you tire him out lol tbh he sleeps easily and very well because he is safe with you

#idv #reader insert #fanfiction #identity v x reader #idv x reader #identity v #identity v x you #identity v composer #composer x reader #composer x you #frederick kreiburg x you #frederick kreiburg x reader #frederick kreiburg

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cloverstayy · 2 months

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𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝙼𝙰𝙳 → 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗; 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗

So, for those of you whom aren't subscribed to Christopher's Bubble OR whom haven't either heard and/or seen about the most recent Bubble antics recently on other forms of social media, the man decided to live out his K-Drama Fantasies on behalf of Chan Stans and Stay everywhere.

What exactly did he do, you ask? Well, to put it simply (and trust me, this is difficult because Chan is my bias) he broke up with us, tried to accuse us of cheating, but then admitted it was him who had been cheating to then admitting he was playing a simple joke on us and reassured us that he'd never want to do anything to hurt us (bless him, I swear). Who was it? It was Berry. Yes. His dog, Berry. 😒😂

I'm pretty sure non-Chan stans were convinced there was something actually wrong with him due to the number of Tiktoks and Fans posts I personally saw, however, us Chan-biased knew the man was full of shit and was most assuredly pulling some of his usual Chan-coded shenanigans.

In any case, my bestie and twin @ariaphoenix26-blog demanded I post this somewhat random as fuck idea I had yesterday as head canon. So, yeah.

𝙽𝙴𝚅𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙱𝙸𝙶 𝙼𝙰𝙳

It didn't matter what Chris did, how he said it, or why he did it. The simple fact still remained the same: you could never get mad at him.

→ Chris is the type of man that if asked, he'd likely do some crazy shit for the person he loves. Walk over hot coals? Sure. Dodge a few bullets? Yeah, no problem. Clean your shared living space, wash and fold laundry, put away dishes and cook dinner last minute? Of course.

→ But ask him to do something like, take out the trash? Well, fuck all of that.

→ And, truthfully, its not because he's incapable. He's exceedingly able to do said task. Its just...well...well he gets really hyper-focused on a task, especially a task he wants to do, it kind of--sort of--slips his mind.

→ And sure, the first few times he tells you this and flashes that thought-paralyzing smile, its suddenly not a big deal and you have no problem taking it out yourself.

→ However, the moment it goes from "a few times" to "too many times", you're suddenly finding yourself overcome with a rather new emotion. At least, when it comes to anything related to Chris.

→ You're big mad. Furious even. And its justifiable! Even Chris would agree with you. He's a grown ass man; he knows better.

→ However, the stars align and the universe conspires against you the morning you do ask him to take it out.

→ You're running late. You have an entirely packed work schedule. You slept for literal shit the night before. Your favorite pair of work pants weren't clean. You didn't have your favorite breakfast yogurt and you had to do mandatory overtime to top it all off.

→ So you ask Chris last minute as you're hastily packing up your work bag to take out the trash before you get home from work later that evening.

→ "Yeah, yeah, of course, beautiful! I'll take care of it." He promises and you believe him. Because in that moment, you don't have the time nor bandwidth to remember to question him about the other times he forgot. So, in your haste, you thank him and plant a kiss on his forehead before dashing out the door for work.

→ Well, see, Chris really did intend to do it. And he even wrote it down on a post-it note that he stuck to the monitor of his computer to remind him. But then he got distracted, watching Stay vlogs on Youtube. And then he got inspired by a mashup of Case 143 and God's Menu that a Stay had made, so he had to mess around in his studio.

→ Then suddenly it was 6:30pm. Chris is the literal physical embodiment of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.

→ Chris hears the door open when you arrive home. And then the subsequent shout of his name. Okay, you're definitely not happy. He's also pretty sure he hears some slamming of somekind, maybe.

→ But it isn't until he hears your little feet stomping down the hall towards his studio door that he cannot help but find you the absolute cutest thing he's ever seen and heard than in this moment.

→ And lets be clear...Chris never invalidates you or dismisses you when you're upset. He just can't help but find it really fucking precious.

→ But you? Well, you're pissed. And you're determined to let his ass know. Because every other time you have been upset with him, he somehow disarms you completely and you immediately forget why you were mad in the first place.

→ Its damn near impossible to be mad at him. I mean, look at him. How can you get mad at that face? You can't, that's why.

→ Anticipating you, Chris is on the other side of his studio door just waiting. And as expected, he hears the all too familiar bang, bang, bang of your fist making contact with the door.

→ You do your best to strengthen your resolve. This time you're gonna give him the people's elbow and really let him have it. He just couldn't keep getting away with this. You know it. He knows it.

→ But that was before he'd opened his door. Well, after your little fists pounded his door, he promptly opened it and looked down at you. His head cocked to the side, one brow lifted as if he has absolutely no clue why you're standing there with your arms crossed, tapping your foot against the hardwood floor while wearing a really pathetic attempt at pure ire.

→ And you were so determined to proverbially throat punch the man, especially after the day you'd had (and to be fair, Chris probably would've let you literally throat punch him if he knew it would make you feel better). But once he opens the door and the scent of his studio and him bum rushes your nostrils, your eyes dart up to his and...and...

→ Well, god fucking damnit.

→ What were you even mad at him for? Why is he looking at you like you're some sort of damsel in distress? Why is he smiling? What's so funny?

→ "CHRISTOPHER!" Is all you can manage, your voice coming out in more of an exasperated whine and definitely not sounding any bit angry.

→ Chris stands there and mirrors you, crossing his arms and leans into the door jam with his head still cocked to the side. One of his dimples is showing and you just know he fucking knows. He knows why you're standing there. And he knows why you're upset. Or, well, you think he knows just based on the way he's looking at you like the cutest little creature he's ever seen.

→ You release your crossed arms, letting out a very audible huff through your nose as you do and you just stare at him. Blinking wildly, trying to find the resolve you knew you had about 60 seconds ago. But where it went, you haven't a fucking clue. Because he's standing there...just looking at you like you are the cutest little creature he's ever seen.

→ "Baby?" He finally responds. His voice is calm, suddenly soothing your rattled nerves. You let out yet another huff, but this time its a little less intense and you drop your shoulders.

→ "I hate you. You know that? I'm mad. I'm mad at...you!" You press your finger gently into his chest as you speak, "But...but I can't fucking remember why now because you're looking at me like that and...and...UGH!"

→ Chris knows you had a rough day. He doesn't even need to ask you to know it. He just feels it radiating off of you. So, he cocks his head to the opposite side as you stand there, trying to be mad about something and looking less and less like the raging bull you thought you did and more like a shrieking squirrel.

→ And Chris lets a beat of silence go between the both of you before he simply places each of his hands on either side of your arms and brings you close to him. You hear a soft sigh breach his lips before he leans in and presses a firm, but gentle kiss to your forehead.

→ Yeah, this fucker disarmed you with the forehead kiss this time. Damnit, damnit, damnit.

→ He leans back up, straightening himself upright before giving your arms a gentle squeeze. And he doesn't say anything. His arms fall back to his sides as he resumes his previous stance against the door jam. He's still smiling at you like you are the cutest little creature he's ever seen.

→ You let out one last sigh. Well, the man did it again. And you can't even be mad. Because I mean, look at him. Try being mad at him. Its impossible.

→ You give a shake of your head before spinning on your heels, heading back down the hall towards the kitchen. But you feel Chris' eyes are still on you. And you look back over your shoulder and yep, there those brown little boba eyes are, locked on you.

→ "I'm mad at you. So don't you dare stare at my ass as I walk away from you." You look forward again, but not before you place a hand on each butt cheek in a feeble attempt to block Chris' gaze.

→ And all you hear are his muffled giggles. His absolutely adorable, precious and cute giggles. Fucking shitbird.

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waratah-moon · 1 year

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can I request some Eddie x cheerleader reader but she isn’t like the other cheerleaders kinda thing and ahhh

7. Have you seen my sweatshirt? (changed to fit Eddie's wardrobe obvs) I love cheerleader!reader so much she's such a sweetie pie. 🎂 join my birthday week celebration! 🎂 masterlist / send me a message Warning: judgemental '''''friends''''' wc: 1k

Mornings with Eddie were the best. For one thing, Eddie preferred to wake up with the sun, instead of doing the responsible thing and setting an alarm. Every morning light would stream through his bedroom window, illuminating his soft features; his warm arms wrapped around your waist, his mouth slightly open as he slept. You always woke up before him without fail, taking those few minutes to admire him before you woke him up by peppering his face with kisses.

He also insisted on showering together, and he'd made a pretty solid case, saying "it saves time and water, babe." An argument you didn't bother poking holes in as you let him lead you into the shower, taking way more time than was necessary to get clean.

Unfortunately this morning things hadn't gone to plan. You'd still woken up before Eddie, but you'd woken up late.

"Shit, Eddie," you shook his shoulder, pushing the covers back as you jumped out of bed. "We're late."

"No morning kisses?" His eyes were still shut, but he was pouting.

"No time. I'm going to have a shower."

"I'll come," he sat up, slowly blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"Nuh-uh. I don't care what you say, showering together does not save time. You get distracted."

"Not my fault you're distracting," he dropped his head back on the pillow.

"Don't you dare go back to sleep, I'll be out in a few minutes and then it's your turn."

After your shower, Eddie had blocked the bathroom door, refusing to let you pass until you'd given him at least one good kiss. The first kiss hadn't been up to his standards apparently, and neither had the second. He'd finally deemed the third acceptable, letting you back into the bedroom to get changed.

You had a pep rally today, so you didn't have to think about your outfit, one of the few benefits of being a cheerleader. But the weather outside was still cold, and your cheer cardigan wasn't where it normal was; folded neatly with the rest of your uniform. You rummaged through the section of the closet Eddie had put aside for you, finding only a couple of dresses and a pair of track pants, but no cardigan. You didn't even have any of your jackets in the wardrobe.

You grabbed Eddie's leather jacket off the hanger and slipped it on. You had a spare sweater in your locker at school that you could change into once you got there, in the mean time your boyfriend could deal without his favourite accessory.

You'd rummaged up some breakfast, making Eddie some toast to eat the on the drive when he called out from the bedroom.

"Babe, have you seen my jacket?"

"Uh," you started, the leather feeling comfortably heavy against your shoulders. "Yes?"

"Why did that sound like a question?" He stuck his head outside the bedroom door to see you sheepishly buttering toast. "Oh, because you're wearing it."

"Sorry, I was cold and I couldn't find my cheer cardigan."

"'sfine, princess. Looks better on you anyway. You ready to go?"

It turned out that your cheer cardigan was in Eddie's van, but when you started to take off his jacket, Eddie had stopped you. "You'll be warmer in that, plus you look insanely hot."

Eddie's black leather jacket that smelt of tobacco and weed definitely went against your cheer uniform code. But your boyfriend said you looked insanely hot, so you were willing to bend the rules a little.

"What are you wearing?" Jessica asked as you sat down at in your seat for homeroom. She had her cheer cardigan on, her name embroidered neatly on the front panel.

"I couldn't find my cardigan and I was cold," you shrugged, tightening your ponytail.

"Is it your boyfriend's?" You didn't miss the judgemental lilt in her voice.

"You know his name is Eddie. And yes, it is." You were relieved the conversation was cut short when Mrs. Click waltzed into the classroom and began taking attendance.

You were glad when the day came to an end, wanting nothing more than to go back to Eddie's, cuddle up with him on the couch and watch TV. Your day had been filled with lingering stares, whispers, and judgemental questions. But you were used to it, dating Eddie.

The two of you didn't parade your relationship around the school, but your friends knew you were dating him. Not that they didn't question it every chance they got. Sarah Perry had even tried to set you up with one of the basketball players, telling you, "but your relationship isn't that serious. It's just a fling, right?"

That was three months ago, and they still didn't seem to accept that you were happy dating the town freak. You spotted Eddie waiting by his van in the parking lot.

"You should wear my clothes more often, sweetheart," Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

"I'm going to have to soon. I'm running out of clothes at your place." You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing in his scent; it was grounding, standing like this in his arms. "Can we stop by my house on the way home?"

"You sure? I'd love to see you in my Metallica tee-shirt."

You smiled. You would love nothing more than to walk the halls of Hawkins High wearing an outfit that clearly said 'I'm dating Eddie Munson', but part of you wasn't ready for it. "Yeah, I better." But you could always compromise. "But maybe you could help me make a necklace like yours?"

"You want a pick necklace? Turn around." He reached behind his neck, unclasping the chain, and you turned your back to him. "I wanted to buy you a special one, like a silver heart or something cliché, but this is even better." He brushed your hair to one side, clasping the chain around your neck. "Now there's no doubt that you're my girl."

"Was there ever any?"

#waratah-moon's birthday 2023 #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #cheerleader!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #maggie writes

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months

Text

Jungkook

Tongue Tied: Open Secret

In which Jungkook comes clean with his pack leader.

Tags/Warnings: Hybrid!BTS x Hybrid!Reader, Wolf!BTS, Dog!Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, some angst, insecurities & very openly emotional reader, implied smut OOOOOH-, Namjoon/Jungkook focused

Length: short, drabble

A/N: There is no taglist. Also: Boo. Yes I just did that.

-> Masterlist

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Jungkook.. are you telling me right now that you slept with her?" Namjoon asks in a warning tone- but Jungkook across from him simply nods, neither intimidated nor in any way insecure about what he'd just revealed.

"Like I said, I want to be transparent with you, and the pack in general." He offers. "It happened, it was consensual, it was no accident, I do not regret it, neither does she." He repeats his words in a more summed up manner. "And nothing you might tell me will make me feel shame for it." He adds, arms crossed defensively.

"I'm not.. I just-" Namjoon stammers. It's not like he's never looked at you in a more... sensual aspect, but this? It's a fine line he didn't know if he wanted to cross it.

If he could cross it.

"I'm not taking her for myself either, just so we're clear." Jungkook says after a moment. "She belongs with the pack, and the pack belongs with her. I'm simply filling you in on where I stand with her, as a part of this pack." He explains.

"How.. did that even happen?" Namjoon sighs, sitting down as he runs a hand over his face. "How- she's not that fluent yet In terms of language. How the hell can you be sure she was okay with it?" He worries.

"I'm sure you don't want details-" Jungkook shrugs, leaning against the wall, "but simplified, we played around in my apartment, I caught her, we kissed, ended up sleeping together." He shrugs. "Namjoon, I asked her several times if she knew what we were doing. If she was okay with it. She was clearly aware of everything going on- she even stopped me at some point when I wasn't doing what she liked. She clearly knew what we did, and she was fine before, during, and after. I made sure of that." He explains.

"Where is she now?" Namjoon asks.

"With Jimin and Taehyung at the practice room, Hoseok said he'd be there too at some point." Jungkook explains. "I'll pick her up right after this. I just wanted to let you know."

"Jungkook, I appreciate it. I really do." The leader says, before he looks at him.

"Just say what you want to say." Jungkook shrugs. "Like I said, nothing will make me feel ashamed or bad about it."

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad about it." The leader sighs. "I'm just.. this is a huge deal. Her foster contract with the company is ending-"

"And I already filed in to have her transferred to me. Namjoon, I know I can still be a huge puppy when it comes to my place in the pack, but when it comes to her- trust me." He says, eyes determined and voice serious. "I will not lose her. And neither do I take any of this lightly. I know how serious this is- not just for me.. but all of us." He says.

"I just.. have you talked to her about what happened? What's going to happen?" The leader asks, slowly coming to terms with things.

"I did." Jungkook nods. "She mentioned how she.. feels the same about the pack as she does towards me. But she's scared." He explains.

"Scared?" Namjoon wonders.

"Yeah. I mean, she feels a bit babied by some of you guys, and I can understand it." He shrugs at the rapper.

"Babied?" He asks, surprised.

"You don't take her seriously. You don't.. really let her make decisions. I guess that's why she likes to stay with me, or Jin. Since we don't really do that." He shrugs.

"I'm just careful." Namjoon sighs. "But I can see both of your points. It's hard for me not to.. you know, baby her, considering where she comes from and in what situation she's in."

"I mean, yeah-" Jungkook sighs, as he walks closer to pat his leader's back. "-and she doesn't blame you or anyone for doing it. She just wants to be understood- and taken seriously." He says.

"I understand." The rapper nods, looking up at his packmate. "And.. thank you. For being so honest."

"Of course." Jungkook grins, Wolf tail wagging happily. "We're a pack, after all. Especially now." He offers, and ut makes Namjoon smile brightly to himself.

Because Jungkook is right. You're all a pack-

Now more than ever, thanks to you.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon fanfic

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carlsdarling · 9 months

Text

How to save a cat Part III

The relationship between Carl and Y/N evolves, and not everyone appreciates that… Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, angst, violence

Over the next few weeks, Garfield recovered. And it was inevitable: The relationship between you and Carl evolved rapidly. You only met secretly, either at secluded places in Alexandria, or Carl climbed on the roof under your window at night, woke you up by tapping softly on the window, and then you sat together on the roof for hours, holding hands, making out a bit and looking at the stars. Most of the time, though, you just talked. But there was always the danger of being seen and caught.

One night the mood between you was very sexy, and it ended with you having your hands in Carl's pants and stroking him, Carl bucking his hips, moaning softly, and caressing your boobs. "Do you mind if I cum on your hand, baby?" whispered Carl, breathless with arousal.

"No," you kissed him softly on the lips as he also began to spill his cum all over your hand, whimpering. With hearts beating wildly, you held each other. You didn't have anything with you to clean yourselves up.

Carl looked at you. "Y/N?" You raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to maybe... sleep with me?" he asked shyly.

"Now?" you responded in shock. It wasn't very comfortable on the roof - especially for someone who was inexperienced - and the night breeze quite chilly, and there was no way you could take Carl to your room. Your parents could notice it. But you also desired it - Carl's caresses excited you incredibly, besides, you were head over heels in love with him. You wanted to be as close to Carl as possible.

"No," he said hurriedly, laughing nervously, "Of course not right now. I meant sometime, soon." He cracked his knuckles and glanced at you uncertainly.

"Yes," you replied simply and kissed him. "I want to make love to you, too, Carl."

He beamed happily at you. "Okay. I'll take care of condoms." A little later he said goodbye and climbed down the tree in front of your house, walking home elated. Neither of you suspected that he was being watched from a downstairs window.

***

The next morning, Carl was on his way to his guard duty. He had slept too long and was already running late, hurrying down the streets of Alexandria. Guilelessly, he rounded a corner when someone unexpectedly grabbed him by the upper left arm, brutally punched him in the stomach twice, ripped off his bandage and threw it in the dirt, then twisted his arm. Tears welled up in Carl's eyes, he couldn't even scream, the pain in his stomach was so intense. "You stay away from my daughter, Carl," your father hissed hatefully in Carl's ear. "Y/N is way too good for you, you're not worthy of her, just look at you," he said with a sneer. "The sight of you is an inconvenience. Your scar is hideous. No wonder you always cover it up. It would have been better if you had died from that shot. I won't let my daughter ever be seen with someone like you, understand? You look like some creature from Wrong Turn, who could ever love you?" he taunted Carl before pushing him to the ground, sneering at him and sauntering off as if nothing had happened. Carl lay curled up on the ground holding his stomach, tears streaming down his face.

No one had ever spoken so viciously about his injury; not even Negan. The latter had made fun of it and marveled at the empty eye socket, but then conceded that it had just been a joke and Carl had no reason to be ashamed of the scar. But this was different. Carl was aware that he might have been the first to look behind the governor's smooth facade and realize what lurked behind it: an abysmally evil and empathy-less man. Robert Andrews, the governor, was dangerous, and Carl was very afraid for you.

After a while, Carl managed to get to his feet and made his way to your house with a bad feeling.

There, hidden behind a wall, he spotted your father who was chopping down the tree in front of the house. Carl knew there was nothing he could do right now; reluctantly he went home, with his stomach ache and sprained arm he could not do his guard duty anyway.

You were caught off guard by events just as Carl was before. You left the bathroom to go downstairs to breakfast when your father grabbed you by the hair, yanked you around and threw you against the wall. You yelled out loud as your shoulder was bruised. Before you could get up again, he kicked you several times, then grasped you by the collar and dragged you to your room. "You get to watch me cut down the tree in front of the house now," he let you know with a cold smile. "No more Carl climbing up to your window. No more sneaky dates. No more dating at all! I warned you. You're to stay away from that white trailer park trash. You stick to your room!"

He slammed the door and locked you in, and you broke down crying. Garfield lay on the bed watching you from his big amber eyes, then came to snuggle up to you. He meowed quietly. You buried your face in the cat's soft fur, sobbing desperately. But you were already so used to your father's abuse that you quickly shrugged it off. You just hoped he would leave Carl alone.

Not wanting other people to become aware of how he was treating you, your dad let you out the next day. "'See Carl Grimes again, and you'll regret it. And so will he," he threatened. "I'll find out."

That's why you were half-mad with fear when you met Carl behind the stables a few hours later. He looked pale and unhappy, and you fell into each other's arms. You noticed immediately that Carl tensed in your embrace, as if he were in pain. "Carl? What's wrong?" you asked alarmed. He held his stomach, his face contorted. "Are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," he groaned, avoiding looking you in the eyes. "It's just... yesterday I was fighting with a walker, and he grabbed me and threw me onto a trash can."

You reached for his flannel and shirt and lifted both. "Oh, God, Carl," you said in horror. A huge hematoma was visible below his ribs. "That must hurt terribly. Poor you. Come here." You stroked his back. "We have to be more careful," you whispered. "My dad, he knows. He chopped down the tree."

Carl nodded somberly. "I saw it. Do you want us to break up? I could understand," he said sadly. "I might not be good enough for you anyway, either. You're so pretty, you come from a politician's dynasty, and I'm just... maybe someone else would be better for you." He fiddled with the bandage. "You don't have to feel obligated to be with me just because I helped you with Garfield, you know."

Disgruntled, you groped for his hand. "Carl, what is this bullshit? What makes you think I don't want you anymore? I love you, you moron. And I don't want to be with anyone but you." You involved him in a kiss. "We just need to be more careful," you repeated. "Already forgotten, you get condoms," you tried to lighten the atmosphere.

Carl silently hugged you to him and stroked your head. "We'll just meet outside," he then decided. "I'll take the car out by myself, and you climb over the wall, and then I'll meet you outside Alexandria."

You nodded. "That's what we'll do."

***

When Carl went home later, he encountered Michonne in the kitchen. Rick was apparently not home. Carl had been unable to bring himself to tell you about your father's assault on him; he didn't want to add fuel to the fire, and he was also ashamed of how helpless he had been.

It had also stirred up unpleasant memories in him, of how he had almost been raped then, of how he had been lying on the wooden soil, unable to defend himself, at the mercy of his tormentor. Most of the time Carl repressed it all, but now it was present again and tortured him. He just couldn't talk about it.

And your father's spiteful words burned inside him and made him feel bad and worthless to top it off.

Michonne immediately recognized that something was wrong with Carl. "Carl? What's the matter?" she asked cautiously, lowering the knife she had been using to slice carrots.

He hesitantly met her gaze. "Uum, it... it's just, I have a girlfriend." Michonne tilted her head in confusion. Carl's expression didn't match the happy news. "It's Y/N, the governor's daughter, and... and he doesn't want that. He's told me very clearly that I'm not what he wants, and I'm not good enough, and he doesn't want me and Y/N together, but we love each other." Carl rubbed his chin defiantly. "So we're meeting secretly, just outside of Alexandria now, but I... we plan to... soon, so, we want to have sex with each other, and I need condoms," he then blurted out, red-faced.

Michonne was trying to process all this information. Despite everything, she was glad that Carl had confided in her. "The condom thing is no problem Carl, but where are you guys going to go? Why don't you just come here and go to your room? You know you have your privacy there.“

Carl's eye widened. "No," he protested. "Y/N would never enter our house, she's far too afraid of her dad finding out!" He looked scared himself.

Michonne frowned and pushed aside the incredulous anger at the governor. Carl and Y/N didn't deserve this. So it would probably happen in the back seat of Carl's car, on some country lane where Carl and Y/N could neither relax nor feel safe. Michonne felt bad at the thought - Carl wasn't just her best friend, he was like a son to her. She would have liked something less complicated for him.

Carl seemed to have read her mind, because he said, "We have a place we can go where it's safe and we'll be undisturbed," he revealed to her. "Don't worry about it."

Michonne looked at him inquiringly, registering how tense he was and how pasty. "I'm glad to hear that. But Carl, that's not all, there's more," she said softly. Carl's lower lip quivered, then he began to cry.

Michonne took him in her arms, and now he was sobbing. "Robert Andrews... he said to me I was ugly because of the scar, no one would ever love me, and it would have been better if I had died then," he said in a choked voice. "He said it was an inconvenience to have to look at me."

"That's not true," Michonne said, aghast, holding Carl a little away from her to stare at him. His eye was red from crying.

"Yes, it is," he sniffled. "That's what he said." He didn't mention the beating.

Michonne was speechless, she would have preferred to go right out and kill the governor, but she forced herself to be calm so as not to upset Carl even more. He looked like he had hardly slept anyway. She cuddled him gently and murmured comforting words. "I'll get you the condoms, and then the two of us will bake waffles with strawberries," she announced, struggling to somehow cheer Carl up. He loved waffles with strawberries. "And after that, you're going to sleep." Later, she would talk to Rick about it.

Rick was sad and angry when he learned about it later. Carl had endured so much awfulness in his short life, so many losses, and now this douchebag of a so-called governor was insulting him and shattering his self-confidence. Rick was so proud of how Carl's personality had developed, and Lori would have been, too, had she lived to see it. Hershel as well.

Couldn't Robert Andrews see how lovable, brave and sensible Carl was? How could he behave so callously toward him? Besides, it just wasn't true that the scar disfigured him; even if Carl himself still saw it differently. "I could kill Andrews," Rick growled. "Where's Carl?"

"He's asleep," Michonne informed him. "He said he had a headache. And I'm afraid you'll only make things worse for Carl and Y/N if you confront the governor." Frustrated, she threw a rag into the sink. "I already told Carl that it's really important that they use protection every time. If Y/N gets pregnant, it would be fatal."

***

The next day, Carl made his way to the main gate. Negan had arrived, some goods were to be traded, and since Rick was on a mission of exploration in a nearby town, that task fell to Carl.

His stomach still aching, he slowly circled one of Negan's pick-ups and looked at the goods on the back of the truck - oranges, lemons and more exotic fruits. "Okay, we can use several palettes of these," he said, holding his stomach unobtrusively. "In exchange, we'll offer eggs, bacon and corn."

Negan eyed Carl from top to bottom. "What's the problem, serial killer?" he then asked straightforwardly. "You look like shit."

"Oh, thanks, Negan," Carl replied aggrieved. "I already know I'm so ugly I'd better be dead, and the sight of me is an insult! You don't have to tell me that, just shut the fuck up!" he yelled at Negan.

The latter flinched, startled. "That's not what I mean," he said, puzzled. "You look really sick, Carl. You're as white as a ghost." Again he eyed Carl. "You haven't been... bitten, have you?" he asked in a lowered voice.

"No," Carl muttered. "It's just, a zombie threw me on a trash can, and my stomach's been hurting ever since. It'll be fine," he finished sullenly.

"Doesn't look like it. You have two doctors in your crappy Alexandria town," Negan opined sternly. "You should see one of them. For your own sake. Just my two cents." He shook his head in annoyance.

So, after completing the trade, Carl went to the doctor's office, where he found Siddiq, and also told him the tall tale of the walker who had attacked him. Siddiq instructed Carl to lie down and expose his abdomen, then carefully palpated Carl’s body. Carl wailed in pain. "That's a massive bruise, Carl," Siddiq expressed with concern. The injury was just below Carl's old scar. "What other symptoms do you have? Did you throw up after the accident?"

"Twice," Carl admitted meekly. "The abdominal pain is pretty bad, too."

"Did you witness blood coming out of any part of your body?" insisted Siddiq.

"Um, no." Carl pulled down his shirt and sat up.

Siddiq sighed and rummaged around in a closet. "I hope you don't have a ruptured spleen, and that it's just a bad bruise," he then informed Carl, handing him some pain killers. "We'll have to wait and see. Take the pills, and get into bed. You need rest. Do not lift anything heavy. No strenuous activity. I will check on you tomorrow." Carl nodded gratefully and went home.

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl fanfiction #carl grimes #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes smut #how to save a cat

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checkoutmybookshelf · 5 months

Text

Ok, something has been bugging me about Dain and his signet, and I want to talk about it for a second.

I was thinking back over Fourth Wing and Iron Flame to see if there were any moments where Vi consented to having her memories read, and not only was the answer no, somethig HELLA chilling popped up when I went back to check the text.

When Xaden explains to Vi that Dain has to touch someone's face to read their memories, her response is "...that's how he always touches me" (Fourth Wing, 450). I get that Dain's signet is secret and he can't just TELL Vi what he can do when he catches her immediately after she crosses the parapet, but one of the first things he does in that scene is take her chin (Fourth Wing, 32) in his fingers. He establishes a pattern of behavior, normalizes his touching her face as a habit. And yes, it could be argued that not touching her face would also give away his signet somehow, but as the person with knowledge, Dain is responsible for the ethics of using and setting patterns around his signet. He either had to just...NOT touch her face, which child be justified by not wanting to make her look weak or come clean. But Dain "my heart is a rulebook" Aetos does neither. And what does THAT do? It puts Vi in a vulnerable as hell position with someone she thinks she is safe with.

Even take the rebellion and Athebyne out if the equation for a sec. Vi almost certainly has memories that are just simply private. Not a massive secret, not a liability, just HERS. And for a huge part of the book, she is just letting Dain touch her face, potentially opening up memories she doesn't want him to know about to his signet. That is a power dynamic so absolutely fucky that I don't have words for it. And then we circle back to the reality that Dain did cross the line and try to take memories by force in Fourth Wing--and succeeding the one time we know about got Liam and Deigh killed. And this is just the main example that we know about. I'm not ruling out that there were other examples still to come to light; we have three books to go in this series.

I honestly also wouldn't have put it past Dain to do a quick memory check when he holds Vi's face at threshing before he kisses her (Fourth Wing, 191). He was NOT happy with Xaden for interfering, and I suspect he wanted a look at what happened without Xaden's input. This is purely my theory, there's no real textual evidence, but I am sus. He also cups her face again the day after threshing (Fourth Wing, 203), which is actively a worse choice I'd he slept on it and THEN checked her memories. I also find it wildly suspicious that the next time Vi sees Dain, she is with Tairn, who actively threatens Dains life if he comes within arm's reach of Vi (Fourth Wing, 215). We know Tairn knew things Vi didn't, so was he already preventing rebellion info from sliding to leadership?

Vi herself doesn't put a hard boundary on the face touching until Dain gets offended by Xaden accusing Amber of violating the codex and goes "gimme" (Fourth Wing, 244-245), but she sets it...for a while. The math on the Athebyne thing works out to Xaden telling Vi that's where he goes on page 391, and then Violet Goddamn Sorrengail gets nostalgic for Dain at the celebration with the king and everyone's parents and let's Dain cup her cheek again on page 405. Which is really goddamn tight timing when you think about it, because he touched her face at the beginning of this party, she and Xaden have their little tete a tete on the parapet, sneak off to have great sex for the rest of the night, and the next morning they are assigned to Athebyne. So Dain literally had to corner his Dad at the party and then Colonel Aetos probably spent the rest of the night changing the war game assignments and setting up Xaden's group to be killed.

Dain Aetos likes hard rules, but not ethics. This just gets even more screwy in Iron Flame, once Varrish gets his hooks in Vi.

If one wanted to be more generous than I'm feeling, one could say that Varrish was being polite about trying to get Dain to read Vi's memories in interrogation class (Iron Flame, 228-230), but honestly the motherfucker just saw an opportunity and rolled with it. And here is where Dain having the codex shoved far enough up his ass that it comes out his mouth is actually a win, because he rules-lawyered the spirit of the codex to refuse an order, but goddamn it was a close thing. This man was REACHING FOR VI'S FACE before he stopped himself.

I'm not like...surprised that Varrish isn't teaching our boy ethics, but I'm a little surprised Vi never called Dain's ass out for his lack of ethics regarding his signet. It's possible I read the Arrows of the Queen trilogy a few too many times though.

What Dain noticeably doesn't do the SECOND time Varrish drags him into an interrogation session with Violet is hesitate. Like he so fails to hesitate that VARRISH of all people has to remind Dain that he actually was taught ethics (Iron Flame, 316).

I think he deserves to experience everything Vi shows him, but the fact that it took THAT MUCH to get his head out of his ass? Yeah, no, we are not doing a Dain Aetos redemption arc.

Because when it comes right down to it, Dain was a) a shitty friend, b) absolutely godawful at ethics and morality, c) to married to rules for his own good, and d) knowingly put Violet in a vulnerable situation vis a vis his signet. Like...its a WAR COLLEGE. You're not running around touching people's faces on the regular anyway, just DONT. TOUCH. HER. FACE. Not before she knows about your signet at the very least, and probably not without her explicit consent after that, because here's the thing: at no point in Fourth Wing or Iron Flame did Dain EVER explicitly ask permission to touch Vi. He just DID it. Right from the beginning, after parapet, at threshing, and at the party, he just put hands on her without asking. And then in Iron Flame he's ordered to explicitly against her will, and as much as I love a good rescue, it does not excuse the massive ethical and consent breaches that have become a PATTERN with Dain.

So those are my thoughts about Dain, his signet, and ethics. All I can say is, I am still extremely not here for a Dain Aetos redemption arc.

#fourth wing #fourth wing spoilers #iron flame #iron flame spoilers #the empyrean #dain aetos #rebecca yarros #books and reading #books & libraries #books and novels #books

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angelisgonnastartchangingurls · 1 month

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robbie, on a saturday

annie's late spring was pretty nice, all things considered. robbie was just sort of living in her apartment, which they'd never really planned on or agreed to, but annie was grateful for his presence. he cooked, he cleaned, he slept in her bed. the presence of another body there was nice for her. for the last year, she'd spent more or less equal time at ryan's apartment, and so being home all the time was jarring. and would have been crushingly lonely.

she and robbie went out with jim and julia a lot, funny little group dates that more often than not ended with sex. julia was the star around which these events orbited, as she was the one who fucked everyone else. typically, julia and annie had sex first while the boys watched, and then jim and robbie took turns on each of julia's ends. after that, she and annie sometimes resumed their festivities.

it was wonderful to be so sexually active with julia for a sustained period. annie had always thought her best friend was beautiful. she had gorgeous wavy dirty blonde hair, and a lithe, yoga-addled body. she and annie were somewhat contrasted -- julia's skin took naturally to the sun, whereas annie was pale and milky and burned easily. julia's hair was cut at her shoulders; annie's long dark hair was halfway down her back. annie had bright hazel eyes behind her glasses and big white teeth; julia had a crooked smile and tired, dark eyes. annie was taller and had bigger tits. julia had her perfect bush, and annie was still shaved smooth.

annie liked kissing julia. she was such a good kisser. she also believed herself to be getting much better at eating pussy -- julia's moans backed up her claims.

she and robbie didn't really talk about the fact that they were now regularly watching each other have sex. annie had watched very intently the first time robbie had pushed his cock into julia's cunt, and had seen him looking at her tits and her pussy, sometimes with his cock in hand, stroking it and keeping it active for julia. sometimes, julia and annie made out just moments after robbie had cum in julia's mouth. annie was well aware of what she was tasting.

but when they were around the apartment alone together, they were becoming extremely casual. they changed in front of each other, and other times lounged around mostly nude. one afternoon robbie joined annie in the bath. that was kind of fun and sweet. they had a good talk.

one night, a night when julia and jim had other plans, robbie told annie as they went to be that he was going to jerk off. "okay," she said, and positioned herself up on her pillow to watch. he let her, getting himself hard to a picture of his ex gf on his phone -- but then putting it down to just close his eyes and stroke. annie watched him cum on himself and cooed approvingly. he cleaned himself up with his shirt and tossed it aside and went to bed.

in the morning, annie woke him up using her vibrator on herself.

"you keep your panties on?" he said.

"for this one, yes, it's too intense otherwise" annie gasped.

"sounds like it."

"holy FUCK" annie laughed, her legs reddening as she came. she put her vibrator down and yanked her panties down to her knees, letting her pussy cool off.

robbie had his dick out now and was stroking it.

"you know post-nut clarity?" annie said. "my male patients tell me about that."

"you don't experience that?" he said.

"no," annie said. "cumming just makes me hornier in the moment."

"hot," robbie said.

annie laughed. "no, it's awful. i feel like i need to go stick an ice cube in my pussy."

"if you do that i wanna see it," robbie said.

annie got up and dropped her panties and walked to the kitchen to the ice dispenser. she came back to the bedroom with a little moon-shaped cylinder of ice and stood at the end of the bed in front of robbie and his dick and pushed the ice inside herself. she bit her lip.

"how does it feel? he asked.

"fucking good," she giggled. her knees buckled and she nearly fell over. she had a hand over herself, holding it in. the melting water ran through her fingers. "it's melting so fast," she giggled.

"can i feel it?" robbie said. he sat up, not jacking off anymore but still hard. annie moved her hand and was surprised to feel his hand go right between her legs, touching not quite inside her, but pushing the flat of his fingers against her ice-cold labia. "that's so weird," he said.

he took his hand away and the remainder of the ice slipped out to the floor. they both laughed.

that afternoon, jonah came over to fuck. before he arrived, annie put a buttplug in as a nice surprise for him -- one he quite appreciated.

robbie was out and about so jonah and annie went at it on the couch. she was on her hands and knees getting fucked when robbie came in with groceries. "don't stop," annie told jonah. "hi, robbie."

"oh hey," he said, laughing. "what are you guys up to?"

"you know, just hanging out," annie said, her tits bouncing hard.

jonah came on her chest and the retired to the bedroom for another round. annie went to the kitchen to see what robbie bought while cleaning herself off. "do you have a buttplug in?" he asked her.

"yeah," annie said. she turned around and spread her ass to show him.

"cool," he said. "i've never actually seen one in real life before."

"you haven't snooped in my sex toy drawer?" she asked.

"no," he said.

"why not!?" annie said, laughing.

"do you think your patients ever imagine you're like this?" robbie asked. "like, you're in your office in a cardigan, if they knew you were like, walking around naked all the time, fucking all over, using a buttplug, shaving your pussy, would it blow their minds?"

"i hope not," she said. "i hope they think about it so much that it wouldn't surprise them at all."

on sunday their dad came over. he liked that robbie was staying there too, and didn't seem to think it was weird that whenever he showed up, annie was typically in panties and rarely more than that. today, she was on her way to the shower when he arrived, and therefore was fully nude. when annie came back out, towel around her waist, she said, "I love having my men here." her dad put his hand on the small of her bare back. it felt nice.

"you sound like mom," robbie said.

"yeah but when was the last time mom just walked around with her tits out?" annie offered.

"like the last time i was there?" robbie said.

"really?" annie was shocked. "i haven't seen mom naked like since i was a toddler."

"it was probably more like around the time your tits got bigger than hers," her dad said. "that was when she stopped walking around naked. but yeah, when you're not at home, she's pretty free."

"huh," annie said. she looked at robbie. "what's her bush like?"

"trimmed, tight, controlled."

"sounds like everything else in that area," annie said. her dad laughed.

"i'm hotter though, right?" annie said. her dad looked at her and raised an eyebrow. she dropped her towel.

"of course, honey," he said.

"thank you!" annie chirped.

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canirove · 5 months

Text

Broken Hearts Football Club | Chapter 15

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

"June, are you alright?" Vittoria asked.

"Uh?"

"You've been so… off. Did something happen?"

"No, nothing."

"Then?"

"I guess I'm just a bit sad that the season has ended. It's been a good one."

"It has, yes. We may have only won the league, but that is huge."

"It is" June smiled. "So, how do I look?"

"Ugh, stunning. Me?" Vittoria said, doing a twirl.

"Also stunning. That photographer you fancy will have a hard time trying to not take photos only of you."

"Let's hope so" she sighed. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Is Chilly going to the party?"

"I don't know. And I don't care, to be honest."

"Oh my God, June. What did you do?"

"Nothing" she shrugged.

"June…"

"I did nothing, Vittoria. Why does it have to be me the one who did something?"

"You are actually right. He could have also done something, you both are equally stupid."

"Thank you" June replied, rolling her eyes.

"But something did happen, didn't it? Is that why you are acting weird?"

"Vittoria, nothing happened. Ben and I are just friends."

"Oh so that's it, then... He just wants you to be friends. Please tell me that's it and not that you fucked things up."

"I don't want to talk about it, so can we please go? If we are late Lauren is gonna get mad, and neither of us want to deal with that."

"Ok, fine. I'll stop asking. But June…" Vittoria said, taking her hand. "I'm your friend. You know you can trust me and tell me anything. About Chilly or about whatever."

"I know, and I'm very thankful for it" she smiled. "Shall we?"

"Yes, let's go party Chelsea style" Vittoria chuckled.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Congratulations on that award, June."

"Thank you, Mason."

"You look gorgeous tonight, by the way."

"You also look very nice yourself."

"Thank you" he smiled. "Though anyone looks good on a suit."

"I beg to differ" June said. "You can wear the best suit out there, that if the person wearing it doesn't have it…"

"And do I have it?" he smirked.

"You know you do, Mason. You know you do" she replied with a matching smile.

"Fancy a drink?" he asked.

"Sure" June replied, taking the arm he was offering her.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"June, are you sure about this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. Aren't you and Chilly…"

"We are friends, Mason."

"That's what he said, but are you really sure? Because he is my best friend and I don't want to make things awkward or anything."

"We are just friends, nothing else. So shut up and kiss me, Mount."

"As the lady commands" he smiled.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Fucking hell, John. You scared me!" June said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Good morning to you too, sis. Looking for this?"

"Give me that" she said, snatching her underwear from his hand.

"I'm gonna have to disinfect that table, I can't leave my keys there anymore. God knows what you did there."

"You are so not funny, John" she said.

"Did you fuck anywhere else? The sofa? The dining table? I've heard you in the shower, but I guess the water has cleaned that already. Unless you did it against the sink. That will need disinfecting too, I wash my teeth there."

"John, shut up!" June said, her face burning.

"It's ok, sis. I'm happy for you. Ending the season with a bang... Or a few" he laughed.

"I hate you."

"I love you too" he smiled.

"June, have you seen my… Oh, John, hey."

"Mason?" he said, looking from him to his sister, his eyes wide.

"What are you looking for, Mase?" June said, ignoring John's look.

"My watch. I remember I took it off because it bothered me and now I can't find it."

"Have you checked under the bed?"

"Yep."

"And between the bed and the bedside table?"

"I have not. I'm gonna look there" he smiled before leaving the kitchen.

"Mason? He's the one you slept with? What about Chilly?"

"What about him?"

"I thought you two were going somewhere."

"We are just friends" she said, nervously folding and unfolding her underwear.

"June, what did you do?"

"Why do you all think I did something? Why can't it be him?" she said, raising her voice.

"Maybe because we all know how you like running away when things start to get serious with a guy?"

"I don't do that!"

"June, hey" John said, taking the piece of clothing from her hands before she tore it apart. "I'm your brother. You know you can tell me anything."

"I know" she whispered.

"Then tell me what happened with Chilly."

"Nothing" she said, wiping away a tear.

"June, please."

"He said he was falling in love with me, ok? And I freaked out and I left."

"Chilly is in love with you?"

"Mason" June gasped. She hadn't heard him come back.

"You said you were just friends. That there was nothing between you two."

"And there isn't."

"But he is in love with you, June. I just heard you say it. You lied to me. Both of you did."

"Mason, I can explain."

"There is nothing to explain. You used me, and now my friendship with Chilly may be over. Hope it was worth it" he said, leaving the kitchen.

"Mason, wait."

"Let him go, June" John said.

"No! I can't! I have to talk to him and…"

"And say what, uh? That you slept with him to try to forget that his best friend is in love with you?"

"I… I… fuck!" she said while kicking a chair, hearing the door of the apartment being closed with a loud bang. "I'm an idiot."

"You are a bit of an idiot, yes."

"And now I've lost them both" June cried.

"Hey, it's ok, sis. Come here" John said as he hugged her, her sobs making her whole body shake. "It's ok. It's gonna be ok."

But June wasn't so sure about it.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell fanfic #ben chilwell imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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ramsayxme · 4 months

Text

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / AO3 Link

TW - ramsay bolton, marriage, forceful sex, choking, unconscious sex, murder, death, manipulation, cutting / talking about wounds in detail, violence, stockholm syndrome.

Chapter Seven: You Belong Here

For the first time in a very long time, you were woken up by sunlight beaming down on your face. You turned over, nuzzling into your sleeping lover. Ramsay slept flat on his back with one hand always touching you. You blinked as you woke up, staring lovingly at Ramsay. Sleep made him look soft, his chest rose and fell gently with his breathing. You kissed his chest as you propped yourself up on your elbows, stomach on the bed. "Ramsay..." You whispered. He softly stirred, his eyes rolling open, a small grunt escaping his lips. Seeing him like this made you smile.

"My love, wake up." You whispered again, tracing the muscles on his toned arms with your fingertips. Ramsay rolled into you, wrapping you in his arms. He nuzzled his warm face in your chest, a raspy groan coming from his throat. "No." He said, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep but muffled into your body. You could feel him exhaling against your chest as you stroked his hair. You knew you were falling in love with him. You hadn't fully accepted it yet, but you knew it was happening. Today you were going to marry him and the idea didn't completely scare you, in fact you were almost excited.

"Ramsay, we are going to have our wedding today." You whispered, causing him to roll onto his back and finally open his beautiful eyes. "Yes, we are." He mumbled, his lips turning into a grin. "Are you excited?" He asked. You nodded, your hair falling onto his bare chest. "Of course I am. Are you?" He chuckled, brushing your hair back with his hand. "Yes. I am."

Ramsay sat up and climbed out of bed. "In fact, we should get up. I would hate to have to wait any longer than we have to for our wedding night." He flashed a grin at you and you felt your stomach flutter. You giggled and scurried off, Ramsay slapping your ass as you ran away. You ran all the way to your chambers where there was a long white dress waiting for you on your bed, and a white fur cloak. Reek was waiting for you in the corner of your room. He startled you, as you didn’t expect to see anyone.

“I’m here to help you with anything you may need, M’Lady.” He muttered. You walked up to him. “I’m sorry for last night, Reek… I didn’t want to hit you.” You reached your hand out to him, trying to show some humanly comfort but he only flinched. He didn’t respond to your apology. “Master said I am not allowed to s-speak any more to you, only to say what I have to.” Reek trembled. You sighed as you turned to your dress. There was no sense in trying anymore, he was a lost cause. Reek turned around so you could get dressed. You wondered if you were also a lost cause as you pulled your wedding gown over your head and fastened your bridal cloak.

You heard footsteps running in the hallway and a few men shouting. This wasn’t normal, but you didn’t want to involve yourself. Reek shuddered at the sound. Ramsay opened your door, he was dressed in the finest leather you’ve seen him wear. Gods, he was handsome. His hair was clean and curling under his ears. His freshly shaven skin looked soft and gentle, but you knew it was a mask; one that you’d come to love. Ramsay grinned. “Reek! Go make sure everything is set up to my liking and let me have a moment with my future wife!” He barked, sending Reek scrambling out the door.

That’s when you noticed the bloody knife in Ramsay’s hand. He wiped the knife clean on a blanket draped over the chair in your room. He noticed your gaze lingering on his knife and he chuckled. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll never hurt you. It’s unfortunate, really…. My father must’ve been poisoned by our enemies… I just found him dead.” Ramsay grinned at you as he stepped closer, putting his knife back into its sheath. He wrapped his hands around your waist and admired your beauty. “Now, we truly can be the Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort.”

Your chest felt warm as you pressed your lips against his. You knew he had just stabbed his own father, but you felt the urge to belong to him in this moment. He was doing this for your future, your title, your family. You felt somewhat honored. Again, Ramsay had the power to make you feel less than the dirt caked to his shoes one minute and then the next minute, the best prize in all of the seven kingdoms. Your arms hung around his neck, your fingers playing with his curls on the back of his neck. He gave you a closed lip smile as his eyes scanned your face.

Your wedding was somber, as Roose Bolton had just been murdered, but it was beautiful for you and your husband. Bolton men lined the courtyard with torches as you and Ramsay shared your moments. It was early evening, the sun had set and the sky was hazy. Nothing else mattered, the audible fear from both women and men had been drowned out by Ramsays gaze. He stared at you with a mixture of possession and longing. Snow gently fell, sprinkling flakes on Ramsay's dark hair. He looked absolutely handsome. His eyes pierced into you, his mouth tightened into a grin as you spoke. "I take this man." You announced when prompted, and you and Ramsay sealed your marriage with a kiss.

You walked down the aisle together now as husband and wife, Lord and Lady of the Dreadfort, Warden and Wardeness of the North. Ramsay was grinning from ear to ear and so were you. Although the pit of fear in your stomach was always there, you had learned to befriend it; almost welcome it. Ramsay was yours, and you were his.

Ramsay led you to your chamber that you now shared. You stepped in and he closed the door with a loud groan from the old hinges. "Are you pleased, my lady?" He asked you, stepping towards you. You nodded, smiling. "Yes, very. I love you, Ramsay." You finally spoke the words that you had been holding deep within you, locked away in a box built of shame and guilt. Ramsay smiled as he took your hands, leading you to the bed. You were completely under his spell, you were putty in his hands. He could tear you to pieces if he wanted to, limb by limb, and you wouldn't complain.

All of the sudden, Ramsay spun you around and yanked your body against his, your back pressing into his chest. He snarled as his teeth yanked at the shoulder of your dress, his hand snaking around your body to grip your throat. "You're mine." He growled, causing your eyes to flutter, knowing he was about to ravish your body. "Take off your clothes." He demanded, shoving you forward and causing you to fall to the floor. Your hands were shaky with anticipation as you unclasped your cloak and began pulling at your dress. It was fastened tightly, it was taking a long time. Ramsay was growing impatient as he grabbed the same knife that had plunged into his father's chest that evening. He brought the knife to your back and sliced the back of the dress open.

You felt pain as you realized he had also slashed the skin on your back quite deeply while cutting the cloth. You felt the warmth of blood begin trickling out of your fresh wound. Ramsay didn't care, jerking the dress open fully with his hands until it fell to the floor. Ramsay had the devil in his eyes as he turned you around, meeting your gaze. He flashed his teeth before he sunk them into your shoulder. You moaned as Ramsay began to suck on your skin, leaving dark bruises in his path.

He pushed you down on the bed, stomach down and face first. He yanked his own clothing off before he mounted you, spitting on his hard cock before shoving it deep inside you. As soon as his cock entered you, you felt his fingers at your back wound. He pressed his fingers into the deep cut, causing you to scream out in pain. Ramsay growled as he began thrusting hard, you know he enjoyed to hear you in pain. He leaned forward and bit your wound, pulling even more screams from your lungs. Your eyes swelled with tears as he applied more pressure to your open skin.

Even with the pain you were enduring, you tilted your hips slightly to allow Ramsay full access into you. He groaned when you did so, the slight angle allowing him to slide in with more ease. "That's a good girl... I've trained you so well." He moaned as he stayed leaned forward, his teeth leaving throbbing marks on your upper back. One of his hands found your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your neck to bend so you could look at him upside-down.

His pace slowed as he leaned closer to your ear. His face had your blood on it from kissing your wounded back. He gently whispered to you, "Do you remember our first night together? You fought me so hard... and now, your cunt is soaking wet with the thought of me abusing you, isn't it? You're so good." He purred. You couldn't deny him, moaning in agreement. He yanked on your hair even more, your neck unable to bend back any further, as he let go of your hair and wrapped his arm around your neck. Your chin rested in the crook of his elbow as he squeezed, growling in your ear as he choked you relentlessly. You attempted to whine, but only wheezes came out as you felt yourself slipping into unconsciousness.

You immediately knew you had passed out. You sucked in air as you felt reality seep back in, Ramsay still fucking you without yield. You were dizzy as Ramsay flipped you over, your body obeying him like a rag doll. You looked at your husbands face, he had wiped the blood off of himself. Ramsay's lips tightened as he reached his hand out and slapped you across the face with all of his force. The single stinging slap was enough to nearly knock you unconscious again.

You felt your eyes rattling in your skull as you focused on Ramsay, his hand pulled back so he could swing again. Before he could, you reached up and gripped his throat with both of your hands. He grinned, "There you go!" He growled. He grabbed you tightly and flipped the both of you over once more, so you were on top of him. His hair flopped on the bed and he looked up at you. "I made you mine. Now, make me yours." His eyebrows raised when you hesitated.

You leaned forward, putting all of your weight onto his throat. His eyes slightly bulged as he smiled, "Hit me." He wheezed. You pulled your hand back and slapped him with all the strength you had. His smile didn't fade as his eyes fluttered. You pulled back again, forming a fist this time. You landed your punch on his cheekbone, he moaned with sadistic satisfaction. You didn't ease up, your body was bubbling over with leftover anger from how he had treated you, sudden bursts of power, and an uncontrollable urge to hurt him.

You kept throwing punches at your new husband's gorgeous face, kissing each of his cheekbones with flowering bruises. He never stopped grinning as he absorbed your blows. You leaned forward to choke him again, not letting go. Ramsay's eyes slid backwards as he fell unconscious just as you had. The monster within him fell silent as his head fell limply to the side. You paused as you realized he was knocked out, his cock still hard inside you. You rocked back and forth, wanting your pleasure to continue. Ramsay had used you, couldn't you use him in return?

You slid your body up and down on his cock, peering at his face every few moments to see if he was waking back up. You felt powerful, but nothing in you wanted to leave him. You could've gotten up and left him forever but instead you leaned forward, pressing your bare chest against his as you bucked your hips up and down on his cock. You felt the warmth growing in your core as you reached down to rub yourself as he slid in and out of you at your own perfect pace. You started to teeter on the edge of an orgasm when you saw his eyes flicker back to life. He grinned, watching you bring yourself to climax on his cock. You erupted, quivering and moaning as your body rode out the wave on him. He lay there, his arms behind his head and grinning, admiring his wife's orgasmic bliss.

You slowly came down from your orgasm as you laughed, sliding your body off of Ramsay. "My Lord, that was-" You had barely lifted yourself off of him before he grabbed your throat once again, slamming you backwards into the bed. "You think I am finished with you? I didn't get to come yet, my love! You'd be quite selfish if you didn't allow your husband to finish on his wedding night, don't you think?" He purred as he inserted himself back into your soaking slit, forcing your back into the bed. Your back ached as you remembered your wound, now being scratched against the blankets once more.

Ramsay choked you hard with both of his hands as he fucked you, knocking you unconscious once again. This time, you knew it was for a long period of time. You woke to find your husband sleeping at your side, and your body leaking his seed. You groaned as you saw the welts across your chest from his bites, your wounded back had crusted itself to the covers as you peeled yourself upright. Your body was screaming with agony as you turned sideways to lay within the crescent shape of your husbands body.

You prayed to the Gods that night. You prayed that you were pregnant with Ramsay's son. You prayed that he wouldn't hurt you through the night. You prayed for a happy marriage and for Ramsay to love you as much as you felt yourself growing to love him, regardless of the things he did to you. You prayed a second time to be pregnant with an heir. You didn't want to to disappoint your husband and the sooner you could provide him an heir, the happier he would be. You drifted off to sleep, your body screaming for help but your mind in a blissful state of attachment. You officially belonged to Ramsay. You smiled, allowing the screams from your body to be silenced by your husbands gentle snoring.

Chapter Eight

#game of thrones #ramsaybolton #ramsayboltonsmut #got #ramsay bolton #smut #ramsay snow #ramsey bolton #ramsey snow #asoiaf smut #asoiaf one shot #one shot #ramsay bolton x reader #house bolton #house bolton smut #roose bolton #reek #reek asoiaf #theon greyjoy

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sports-on-sundays · 8 months

Text

prince not so charming / CL16 / PART 2

Warnings : Switch between second and third person

Summary : Prince!Charles x Princess!Reader - The prince chooses who he wants to marry and grows closer to the one he wants.

Author's Note : Link to Part 1. There will be a Part 3.

Requested? : No.

You wake up to the sound of knocking. You slip out of the bed you've slept in for this night and pad across the floor to the door. The sun is shining in bright through the curtains. You open the door, still wearing just a nightgown. Standing in front of you is one of the other princesses, also still in a nightgown, with her hair in curlers. "Princess Y/n, I've been meaning to speak with you as soon as I soon you! Can I come in?"

You sigh, but shrug, opening the door to her. The two of you sit down on the bed, and you ask, "What could it possibly be?"

"You came yesterday dressed like a peasant! And what's more, you stayed with Prince Charles longer than any of the rest of us!"

"I did...?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing. "It didn't feel like that long."

"You must've been in there three times the amount that I was, and I was in there for one of the longest amounts of time! What did you do with him in there?"

You shrug again. Of course, your mind immediately goes to the hand holding, hugging, and the kiss of your hand, but you just say, "I don't know. We just talked."

"About what?"

"I am not obligated to tell you."

She rolls her eyes. "But isn't he just dreamy?"

"Well, he's never been in my dreams, so I would say not. Anyway, is there anything else you have to tell me?"

"Just that a servant came to tell me that a breakfast is being prepared for all of us, in which the prince's advisors, Prince Charles, his mother, and his brothers will attend.. They're going to tell us which one of us Prince Charles has chosen! I'm sure it will be me! We're very close in age, you know, and I think I put forth a good image. I'm sure I have more of a chance than you do, at least."

You nod and just say vaguely, your thoughts elsewhere, "Sure... I'm sure. Anyway, would you kindly mind leaving so that I can prepare myself? Tell the servants I don't need help getting ready."

She looks at you with a strange look, and mutters, "Alright, then. I'll tell them that. See you later, Princess Y/n."

"Yes, just be on with yourself now, please."

And at that, she gets up and walks out of the room, gently shutting the door behind her. You get up to turn the lock, and then go to the wardrobe. Last night, the servants told you that everything you'll need to get ready tomorrow would be in there.

There are many dresses in there to choose from, and you decide to get dressed in a beautiful but very modest dress, as it seems like Prince Charles' advisors are very traditional people. So you first put on a corset, not too tight, before putting on a white dress with a white top and flowing silky skirts. The longer sleeves also flow out, and the dress goes down to your ankles. You bathed last night, so you put oils in your clean hair, before tying it half up. You put on plain heels that aren't too high, and some nice sparkling jewelry, and then go to your makeup.

You suddenly hear Prince Charles' unique accented voice saying in your head, Cover up your beautiful face with all that makeup?

You sigh and whisper to yourself, "Yes, Prince Charles, I'm afraid I have to." You darken your eyelashes and put slightly darker than your skin sparkling eye shadow around your eyes, before finishing it with some brown winged eyeliner. "There, Charles. That's not so bad, is it?" You brush your eyebrows and cover your imperfections, before finishing up with rouge on your cheeks and lips.

Then you exit your room. There is a servant in the hall, who immediately offers to lead you to the dining room where breakfast is going to be eaten.

When you get there, you look around to realize in embarrassment that you're the last one to arrive. But then you shrug it off, deciding that's a stupid thing to be worried about, and sit down in the empty seat.

King Lorenzo welcomes us all to the table, before everyone starts eating. Apparently, once everyone finishes their food, the three princes, the queen, and Prince Charles' advisors will exit the room and discuss the decision one last time, before coming out and announcing it.

In the meantime, you eat, and the advisors and princes start conversing with you. You keep quiet, until the youngest of the three princes, Prince Arthur, addresses you quietly, as he is sitting very near to you, "Princess Y/n."

You look up, meeting his eyes. "Yes, sir?"

His face is lit up a little as he says, "If you were to marry him, what kind of wife would you be?"

You blink in surprise at this question, and say after some thought, "Well, I suppose I'd make sure to take care of my responsibilities. I'd care about him and help him, as it would be my duty, but of course also visit my country very often, which I always care about and want to help. And when it comes to having children..." You try not to sigh. "I'd prefer to take care of them myself rather than servants."

He looks a little surprised at this comment, but nods, saying, "Alright. Thank you."

"Prince, do you have any children?"

The younger man shakes his head, responding, "No, I do not. But if I did, I wouldn't want servants taking care of them, either. Our parents always took care of me, Charles, and Lorenzo."

You nod, and once it's clear he has no more to say, turn back to your food. You have to be very mindful to sit up straight, use your napkin, and eat very cleanly, in front of all these people.

The only other person, it seems, who does not speak much at all throughout the whole meal is Prince Charles himself, the one this whole breakfast is centred around.

Finally, though, the eating is finished, and everyone exits the room, leaving only the seven princesses and the servants.

You sit. And sit. And sit and sit and sit. It seems to take an eternity, and you can only wonder what they're talking about.

And there's a nervous anticipation within you, just wondering...

Will you be the one in the end? Or will it be one of the others?

All of the girls are fidgeting and whispering, but you sit completely still, back straight, staring ahead, as your thoughts fly through your head as fast as warhorses running into battle.

"So it's the quiet one in the white dress you want to marry?"

"Yes," Charles nods, responding to one of his advisors. "She's humble, willing, kind, and the kind of woman I want to marry."

Charles' advisors look unsure, but his older brother pipes in, saying, "If Charles has finally found someone he actually wants to marry, it would be foolish to say no."

"I agree," says the boys' mother. "I trust him if he says she's the right one."

"What do you think, Prince Arthur?" asks of the advisors. "Because what if Prince Charles really doesn't know what's best for himself? I still think Princess-"

"I will not marry the fifteen year old," Charles interrupts sternly.

Arthur says, "Advisors, who am I to have a say? For I am not my brother's keeper, am I? In fact, I am younger than him. But if you ask for my words, I say let my brother do as he pleases. For if he uses his own judgement and things go bad for him, who's fault would that be? His own. He is an able adult, just like the rest of us, who can decide for himself. I doubt this will be a terrible thing, but if it is, the only one who will have to deal with that is Charles himself."

Suddenly, Charles laughs, nudging his younger brother in his ribs, saying, "I believe that may have been the most intelligent thing you've ever spoken, brother."

But the younger just rolls his eyes at this, and everyone becomes serious again as the conversation over the matter continues.

Finally, the door opens, and the group of people enter the room again. Every sits down, except for Prince Charles, who remains standing. He's wearing a very handsome outfit, with a white and gold coat, a read sash, and fitting pants. "Ladies," he begins. "All seven of you were very kind, and I would consider marrying every one of you, but in the end, one had to be chosen. After a long time of thinking it over and considering, I've decided..." He trails off, studying each of our faces, it seems, as if he's trying to build of suspense. But really, it seems more like he's hesitating.

"I've decided that I would like to marry Princess Y/n."

The whole room suddenly bursts out in surprise. All the princesses and advisors stand and shout in confusion, but before anything else can happen, Prince Charles swiftly leaps onto the table, and off on the other side, next to you, before grabbing your hand and running out of the room with you. He slams the door shut, and keeps running, still holding your hand. You trip over your cursed high heels, but Prince Charles catches you, keeping you standing, and you stutter, "P- Prince, I need to... I can't run in these shoes!"

You expect him to stop and let you take them off, but instead, he suddenly picks you up, carrying you bridal style, and keeps running. "We'll go faster like this," he says to you.

"Prince, what is all this? Where are you bringing me? Can you please put me down-"

"No. I'll explain once we get there," he says firmly.

You sigh in annoyance, but decide perhaps the smartest thing to do now is to just trust him. He runs through the halls, until he reaches a door, opens it to the outdoors, and starts running down the stone stairs in front of us. "I can run myself," you say. "It's probably hard for you... I don't want us to fall, and these are steep stairs."

"It's okay," he replies, his grip on your mid back tightening. "We're almost there anyway, and I won't fall. I've got you."

"You're... pretty strong, huh?"

"Thank you," he nods, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He runs down a beaten down path, into a little woods, jumping over roots and catching himself on the uneven ground.

"Be careful... I don't want you to trip and fall. I can run if you want..."

"Don't worry. I won't loose my footing."

And, he doesn't. You honestly can't believe how athletic he is, with so much agility, to be able to do this so easily. Soon, he stops at a clearing. The prince seems barely winded, and actually has a good mood about him. It's a sunny day, and you start look around. "We can walk now," he says before you can get a good look, and gently puts you down back on your feet "If I were you, I'd take off my shoes now."

You nod and do so, but when your feet touch the rough rocky ground, you yelp in surprise. Right away, Prince Charles does something surprising. He slips off his two boots and says, holding them out to you, "Here. Put these on."

"They'll be way too big..." you say, unsure. "And what about you? Your feet will hurt, and you'll damage your socks."

Suddenly, he smiles.

And it's a smile brighter than the midday sun up above the two of you, shining on your skin.

"Don't worry about my socks," he says, taking them off. "And my feet can handle it. I walk barefoot often enough."

But you stare at him and his little smile, barely even hearing the words coming out of his mouth. In his eyes, you can see a certain happiness, and with the smile, two dimples appear on his cheeks.

You nod, snapping back slightly back to yourself as you slip on his boots. Then you turn to him and look him in the eyes, which shine bright green in this bright lighting, and say, "You have a beautiful smile."

He looks you back in the eyes, still smiling, and says, "I'm sure you do, too, though I've never seen it."

You nod and say simply, "Do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Never stop smiling."

He looks at you, eyes twinkling, and says with a wink, "That's a hard task, but I appreci-"

"No, but you don't understand," you interrupt, taking a step closer to him. He also takes a step closer. "I believe your smile could fix the worst day, and light up the saddest soul."

This makes him smile even more, and he wraps you in a hug, laughing a surprisingly cute little laugh. "Now I'm allowed to hug you. We're officially courting. Anyway, the place I've wanted to bring you to is right up ahead here."

You nod, and the two of you start walking. This seems to be some sort of wide kind of trail, and the middle of it is growing with long, tall grass, about Prince Charles' height, with beautiful flowers of all colors growing in it. You walk along, enjoying the warm day, inhaling the sweet scents of nature, and listening to the birds sing without a care in the world.

Soon, you come along a little shed made of wood. In front of it sit three wooden chairs. "Let's go sit there," he says, pointing to them. So you go and sit down together. After a few minutes of just sitting together, ceasing the day, watching the tall grass dance in the light breeze, Prince Charles says, "Mama, Lorenzo, and Arthur all said I should court and marry you. My advisors disagreed, and they outnumbered the four of us. The only way to get out of there was to convince them that I had given in, and that I would choose one of the other princesses. So I made it seem like I was going to. But then when I walked out, I didn't. And I grabbed you and ran, to get away."

"Well... We'll have to go back there, no?"

"Yes of course we do. I just want to wait it out. Wait until things calm down there first before going back. But I am marrying you. My heart is set on it."

"So you want to marry me that much?"

This time he looks surprised. "Why, of course!"

"Oh..." you nod.

"I'm sorry... That isn't what you wanted...?"

"No, no, no... As long as... Well, I think you're starting to grow on me," you smile at him.

And he smiles back. "There's that lovely smile. I knew it'd be beautiful."

"So, tell me about this place. Surely you aren't the only person that knows about it?"

"No, no, I'm not. Arthur an Lorenzo knows about it, and a few other guys, too."

"This place feels like it has many stories for some reason, Prince. It feels like it has a story of its own."

"I suppose it kind of does. Lots of things happened here. I love this place because of the memories. But in a strange way as well, I hate it."

"Why could that be?"

"It's empty now. It's overgrown and quiet. This was... I loved this place. I still do. Back then, no adults knew about this place. Now I suppose only adults know about it. People grow. Places grow. Places also change. But most of all, people change."

You nod, gently placing your hand on his. "Do you dislike that?"

"Maybe a little bit."

"Do you wish you were still a boy?"

"Sometimes..." he pauses. "It was good times. Good... Good memories."

"What did you do here?"

"Well, we would mostly have competitions," he starts, another beautiful smile forming on his face. "We would be racing mostly. We had our ponies, and we'd race. We did other little things too though. We arm wrestled. We would bet on who we thought would win the chariot racing championship. Sometimes inside this shed here, do little things like play cards or draw pictures. It was fun. It was good fun."

"Do you still preserve the shed?"

"Yes. I... I do." He waits a few seconds, before saying, "Sometimes it's hard to let go."

"And sometimes there are things that you should never let go. Prince Charles, when i look at you, there's something beautiful within you. An innocence that makes you child-like. Being around you feels like being free. Completely free. You're a man who longs for the freedom and joy that children have implanted in their hearts. You have an adventurous streak, and you want danger, but you have such a kind, kind heart. A heart that wouldn't want to fight. A heart that just wants to run free. And I think that's beautiful."

"I guess so, but it's not convenient," he says with a soft, sad smile, looking down.

"Nothing good is convenient. Come on now. Why don't you show my the inside of this shed?"

He nods, standing up, and swings open the door, saying, "For years I've felt like a boy and a man at the same time. Everyone else was getting older as I stayed young. But now... Now I think maybe, with you, I can... I can finally grow up."

"And if you never do completely," you say, stepping into the shed, "I'm okay with that."

In the middle of the small room is a table. Sitting on it is a stack of playing cards and some dice. On a shelf in the corner is a little kid's helmet, and a stack of wood. Sun is shining in through a window that is covered by a thin, faded curtain. There are other little knick-knacks, like a top, a little carved toy horse, a little knife, and a pair of gloves used for gardening.

But your eyes are drawn to some names carved on the wall. There is a small list, but some parts of the list stand out to you more. The first name is written is Charles, but it's crossed out, and next to it is the name Max. Then under that are the names Arthur, Pierre, and Esteban. Then at the end of the row, written again, this time not crossed out, is Charles, and underneath his name are the names Lorenzo and Jules.

"Pierre and Esteban. Those are two princes of other countries, no?"

"Yes, they are. They also still race with me."

You nod. "You all used to be friends?"

"Yeah, some of us were friends. Some of us just competed against each other. Everyone who ever came here carved their name on this wall."

"Who's Max?"

"Another guy I still race with. We've always been competitive."

"And obviously there's Prince Arthur and King Lorenzo. Who's Jules? Does he still race?"

Prince Charles seems to stare for a few seconds at the name, before saying, "No. No, he doesn't." There are a few seconds of silence, and just as you're about to ask further about Jules, Prince Charles says, "Either way, you're here now. I say you ought to write your name up there," he says, handing you the little knife.

"But I never raced h-"

"But you're here. Go on. Write it."

And so underneath Jules' name, you write your own. "Good?"

"Perfect," he says with a little wink, taking the knife back from you and setting it down.

"So does that mean Lorenzo and Arthur know where this place is, then?" you ask, but suddenly you're answered when you both hear running footsteps from outside. You both immediately turn in that direction, and hear a voice call, "Charles? Charles? Are you there? It's Arthur!"

"Yes, we're inside!" Prince Charles calls back.

And soon, the wooden door swings open, and the younger, slimmer, but likely just as strong, prince walks into the little building. "Charles," he says, looking around. "Gosh, I haven't been in here since... years."

"I figured it'd be a good place to go."

Prince Arthur nods. "Fair enough."

"What's the condition of the advisors?"

"Annoyed, but they will have to get over themselves, no?"

"True enough."

"So we go back. Princess Y/n goes home. We send a letter to her father, and then she comes back in... I don't know. Probably a week. You come back in a week to court with Charles for a month, and at the end of that month, you marry."

You nod. "Alright..."

"So you should come back with me now." Prince Arthur looks down at the boots on your feet and the nothing on Charles' feet, and says simply, "And you can't be arriving like that. You might get killed."

Prince Charles chuckles. "We have her shoes. We'll switch shortly before we get there."

Prince Arthur nods, and the three of you set off, down the path, you in the middle of the two princes. As you walk, Prince Arthur talks to the two of you about racing, life, and so on. He seems to just be enjoying talking to his brother.

Soon enough, you get to the castle. You switch shoes, and Prince Charles looks down at you, saying, "Well, Princess, let's go."

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ckkookie · 1 year

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YOU FEEL SO WARM🎐

Topic - your cold boyfriend finds a new way to keep you both warm

Established relationship ♥

Warning -fluff ,smut , 18+

You switched the TV off and turned towards your boyfriend who seemed to be in another dimension with his laptop on his lap " kooook you barely get any time to spend with me at least keep your work aside during the holidays " you complained after being tired of watching him work since the morning and not giving you the attention you deserve " I'm sorry y/n, mr.Jung (his secretary) needs help with this file as he is going to the states tomorrow so lemme just finish this file and then i am all yours " he patted your head "ok but be quick mr. Jeon " you showed him your feiry eyes which resulted him to chuckle and nod, pecking his lips you went towards the bedroom

After 3 hours ~

You slept for sometime and it was currently 7 in the evening. You were in deep slumber when you felt kisses on your whole face so knowing that it was jungkook you hugged him tightly and snuggled into his chest feeling contended " you done with the work?" you asked raising your head to see him all relaxed with eyes closed, he nodded at your question as he now stared deeply in your eyes and soon enough you shared a sweet kiss feeling his lips perfectly molding with yours which made you feel so many emotions , you both parted away and you suddenly felt cold, covering both of yourself in the duvet you asked "kook I'm cold bring the another heater from downstairs" you saw him smirking "why not we try something else? " "huh? " he didn't say anything but you felt him lower his shorts and boxers resulting his long shaft to sprung out as it slapped your thigh under the duvet "w-what are yo-" "shh this can also keep my muffin warm " and soon his finger removed your underwear as you were wearing only his hoodie, feeling his fingers slide all over your thigh gave you chills *definitely not helping with the situation "hmm kook" "yes baby?what do you want me to do hmm?" "want your dick buried deep in me" he grinned lifting your leg and started slowly inserting in you " a-aah kookie you are so big , you feel so warm " "mhmm you like it babygirl? " you were too lost in the moment as he fully entered in your pussy making you feel full and satisfied but you felt him removing his dick "nooo jungkoook " "who will answer babygirl " he asked slapping your ass "y-yes i love it " and then he again buried it with a force resulting the tip to hit your g-spot

And in no time he started pounding in you with an inhuman speed and within minutes you came with him releasing in you and falling on top of you "i love you so much princess " jungkook waited for the reply but he lifted himself from you to see that you were already asleep he chuckled pecking your lips and forehead ,as he was about to get up to clean you ,you pulled him towards yourself " umm noo " you hugged him with your arms so now dropping the plan , jungkook carefully made you lay properly and took you in his embrace while admiring your features , as slowly he also soon drifted in deep slumber .

( pls tell me your thoughts about the fic🙁 it will really make me happy knowing that you've enjoyed it ☺ )

#bts jungkook #established relationship #jungkook boyfriend material #bts fluff #ceo jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook #boyfriend jungkook

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consistentsquash · 4 months

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HP Rec Fest - Day 17

Fest - @hprecfest. Theme - A fic that made you cry.

Snarry is good at angst. So I made a list! 10 fics with 10 types of angst :D

The Boy by themoonandstars1989. What if Snape wasn't a good guy? :D Read the warnings!

The boy had grown beautiful — alabaster skin and dark red lips. Snow White personified, waiting for a prince's kiss to wake him up.

Mostly Harmless by emilywaters1976. What if Harry wasn't 100% good guy? :D Read the warnings.

After the war, former Voldemort supporters go into indentured servitude. Snape becomes Harry's slave. That's when things get complicated.

Morior Animus by vain. You know where this is going but you cant stop reading :/

". . . You seem to be enjoying the book." "Read it twice through," Potter replied, vacant gaze staring just a little bit over Severus's left shoulder. He sounded proud of himself. The sad smile reappeared and he shrugged slightly, sensing if not seeing Severus's raised eyebrow. "I like happy endings."

No Sex, No Galleons by Ziasudra. Snape Whump :D

Even after the death of both his Masters, Severus Snape couldn’t escape a life of servitude. Tonight, just as every other night, he stood on a shaky wooden platform, with nothing but a tattered robe wrapped thinly around himself.

Help Wanted: God & Executioner by pir8fancier. Wartime really sucks when you have to be the one doing the thing.

"You are quite willing to let the rest of us shoulder your sins, are you? Kill for you, so that you can exit this war with a relatively clean soul?"

So Lonely Without Me by caligryphy. Wartime also really sucks when you can't do anything.

"... What if they’re dead? What if no one knows we’re here—what if they’ve sold us out—what if the war is over and Voldemort’s won? Dumbledore secreted us away—he can’t do the same for himself. What’s to stop the assassins from gunning for him? What’s to stop Dumbledore from dying—he’s the only one who knows where we are—the only one—"

Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence by cluegirl. Voldemort wins is the worst situation ever :/

"Delusional child, don't you remember what you are?" He hissed between blows that rocked Harry breathless, "Have you let our Lord's indulgences fool you?" Lucius grunted, and the whip bit again, "Fine robes! Elegant chambers! Laughable titles do not make you anything but a slave!"

Always Hungry by melora98. More wartime whump. Sometimes you have to make big sacrifices to save the other person :/

Harry didn't know how long it had been. He slept, jerked awake, his mind spun. Walking around the small perimeter of the cell exhausted him and he would collapse flat on his back, staring up into the darkness until fitful sleep caught him again.

The Impossibility of Crows by LoupGarou. Wartime. Doing the right thing means giving up on a lot :/

"I have to do this." His voice was so soft I had to strain to hear it. "Of course you do. You never did have any reasonable understanding of your own limitations."

Standing on the Shoreline by tofsla. Postwar. You can totally have postwar Snarry angst. This one is melancholy and really brilliant as a Snape character study.

He never undresses, not for this. It was circumstance and then it was habit, and why would he have wanted anyone to see his body, anyway? He has little enough going for him as it is, even with the mark gone. And besides, the dresses are—are— But he almost wants to say yes. Roll over onto his stomach and let Potter unzip him, open the dress from neck to arse. He could almost let Potter expose him like that.

Also bonus!

If You Are Prepared by Cybele. Nobody is prepared for this one :/ A sweeping old school Snarry epic.

The boy cannot know.

#snarry #snarry fic recs #hprecfest2023 #hprecfest2023 squashrecs #snarry angst fics #hp

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shi-daisy · 9 days

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Spring Beast and Silver Queen

Day 6 and here we have the second otp! Like Tamcien (or Feylincien) and Neris own my heart but Neslin has so much potential that I wouldn't mind them being endgame in a Canon. So here's a little oneshot for them with some Fairytale tropes. Hope you like!

@tamlinweek

Tamlin Week 2024- Day 6- Fairy Tale AU

Spring Beast & Silver Queen

Nesta walked onto the decayed manor, it was just as destroyed as the rest of the court.

Lucien might be the only one to come here out of genuine care, but if the mild mannered redhead couldn't do more than this that meant the High Lord was all but dead inside. She understood. Nesta felt the same way.

She found Tamlin sleeping. The male was in his beast form, like that day when he came to their cottage and took her sister. There were times she wished that hadn't happened. Now, she just wished she'd ran when she had the chance.

It didn't matter anymore. It was either Spring or a lock up on Night, and she'd take her chances with the wilted flowers.

Nesta came into the room slowly. A bird that slept on Tamlin's mane woke up, and left out the window, sparing her one last glance.

She kneeled on the floor and gently patted the man. He was alive, just deeply asleep, and he looked so very weak.

'Guess they've broken us both.' She thought.

Who had once been a monster to her now looked so very defenseless and sad Nesta felt compelled to be kind. Maybe being here wouldn't be so bad, at least Tamlin wouldn't bother her about her drinking if the empty wine bottles were any indication.

She didn't know why, but Nesta decided to plant a soft kiss on the beasts forhead, and wait for him to wake. Nesta didn't have to wait long.

Tamlin turned from beast to fae form in a flash, and when his emerald eyes fell on her their bond snapped.

***

A deep silence fell upon the room as he sat up and stared at Nesta who was equally surprised and stunned.

"I...Think you know what this means."

"Yes..."

"Wait! Why are you here, Lady Nesta? Is this another strange dream?"

"Afraid not. I'll explain."

She told him of her downward spiral, of her sister's betrayal and the choice she was given. It nearly made his magic spiral in a rage.

"Stay here I'd that's what you want. I swear I shall protect you." Tamlin managed to say.

"...What about the bond?"

"If you keep it, they cannot take you away. Once we're certain they won't hurt you, then you may do as you wish with it."

It hurt to say, to denounce something he'd once wanted, despite knowing of it worst sides thanks to his parents, and yet...he wanted to prioritize Nesta's free will. It was clear she needed it.

Especially when her frown turned into a slight smile. "I appreciate it."

Baby steps, in time they could be friends.

***

Lucien had come to visit. After she explained the situation the redhead not only returned to stay with his partners but he cut off all ties to Night.

"We will help you rebuild this court!"

That was all they needed to let the Band of Exiles become part of the Spring council.

The Spring Library was a marvel after it was cleaned and she took to devouring every book she could. It helped fix the court and bring back the population.

In a few months things were already looking up, and Tamlin wouldn't stop thanking her. "Lucien did most of the administrative work. Vassa is in charge of diplomacy and Jurian is training the sentries. Why are you thanking me too?"

"Because if you hadn't arrived that day. I wouldn't be here right now. Your silver flame is what kept me holding on and made me rebuild what I shouldn't have left crumble. Thank you."

His gentle hand on hers gave her pause. Despite the slow friendship they'd cultivated and the bond that kept her safe, sometimes Nesta doubted a man like him could want her if it wasn't because of the mating bond. Still, she didn't want to break it. Her safety was at stake but also...she didn't want to hurt Tamlin further.

Nesta felt a tear slide down her cheek, but it was soon wiped away as Tamlin kissed her forehead. "You don't have to say anything. If I have to wait forever I shall. You're worth waiting for."

Worth. She hadn't heard that from anyone.

"There's a lot I still must deal with, but when I do. I'm certain you'll be who I want to spend my time with."

"I'm honored to hear that."

***

Tamlin often thought that beyond any person music would remain his ultimate love. Perhaps that would've been right, as he played his fiddle before the Calanmai celebrations and everyone danced with joy.

Then she stepped into the scene wearing the long sleeved silver dress he'd gotten for her and the glass shoes he'd seen her eyeing at the boutique.

Nesta was a delightful dancer. He knew she loved music as much as he did when she organized all his sheets and instruments with great care, probably more than the books.

Nesta danced beautifully for him, and he didn't remember the last time he'd played that well. By the time the song ended and she stopped dancing, Tamlin had picked her up in his arms and they shared a kiss.

"I love you." Nesta said, and he couldn't help but cry.

"I love you too."

No other Calanmai had left him as breathless and full of joy

***

Eventually they came for her a little over week after their bond was sealed and their frenzy over.

Nesta nearly barbecued the entire inner circle when they tried to get close to Tamlin. He'd wrapped them in thorned vines.

"We are mated. We are happy. We won't bend to you if you're trying to get the crown. Leave!" He said.

Cassian glared at her and Nesta regarded him with indifference, she had the man of her dreams right by her side and wore a crown of roses rather than chains of stars. The only ones she'd mourn for were her sisters, but she was free and she wouldn't apologize for it. Let the. Make their choice for themselves.

And they did. Because when shadows took her to the House of Wind and she was locked in its tower, Nesta could hear a battle far away in the Velaris palace. By now she'd realized Morrigan was the traitor and that Feyre had joined her, but she couldn't wait for them to rescue her. She had to get out herself.

Rhysand had brought her back to fight for Night's side. She wouldn't and so he locked her up. But he forgot she had power and she had read enough to figure out the end of the tale.

Nesta used her power to create thin threads of silver. They grew from her hair and she made sure to tie them onto the balcony rails. It wasn't enough to reach the ground safely, but she wouldn't need to. She saw a figure of green and was aware he High Lord came to save her.

With rope of hair in hand she jumped from the balcony of the tower and safely mounted Tamlin, who was now a dragon.

"My silver flower"

"My fiddler lord."

They flew away as the Obsidian castle in the distance was swallowed up a black hole in the sky. Both of them were worried until the event passed and the castle was nothing but rubble left away.

After landing they spotted Lucien in the distance with the healers. She saw Feyre and Mor with them, out cold but alive.

Tamlin and Nesta both breathed a sigh of relief. Then they looked at eachother. Nesta smiled at the sight of her mate, her beloved and the man who'd come to her rescue.

Tamlin pulled her close, holding his savior, his queen and his beloved.

Nesta kissed him, using words he'd once said to someone else yet were never returned until now. "I love you, thorns & all."

"And love you, my queen Nesta Acheron."

Two birds flew over them as they shared a kiss, into their happily ever after.

#tamlinweek 2024 #tamlin #nesta acheron #neslin #Day 6: Fairy Tale AU

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