#would you believe me if i told you that this was inspired by the lady noir episode of miraculous?

[argelladurrandaun]

'Arya growing up pretty' doesn't mean she is going to drastically change her appearance or face. Because arya is already pretty. She does have some similarly to the ugly duckling turned swan story. But not exactly. Because arya was never ugly. She has always been pretty. She is just not well groomed. Always covered in dirt and messy hair. But arya already looks (and acts) like lyanna. And lyanna was very beautiful. Only her bullies sansa and jeyne say that shes ugly. But they are bullies who are trying to hurt her so their opinion is not true.

Other than them everyone who meets arya - be it the people that love arya or complete strangers they always call arya pretty. We known that ned and jon has always told arya she is pretty.

"Lyanna might have carried a sword, if my lord father had allowed it. You remind me of her sometimes. You even look like her."

x

She had never cared if she was pretty, even when she was stupid Arya Stark. Only her father had ever called her that. Him, and Jon Snow, sometimes. Her mother used to say she could be pretty if she would just wash and brush her hair and take more care with her dress

Other than them, lady ravella Smallwood tells arya she is pretty

"I'm sorry, my lady." Arya suddenly felt bad for her, and ashamed. "I'm sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty."

"Yes, child. And so are you. Be brave."

and even in braavos the kindly man tells arya she is pretty. And pretty enough to be a 'courtesan' who are the most beautiful women in the continent.

"You believe this is the only place for you." It was as if he'd heard her thoughts. "You are wrong in that. You would find softer service in the household of some merchant. Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty?

Also, the kindly man remarks (who is an expert on faces) , that aryas face is a pretty one.

He cupped her chin, turned her head this way and that, nodded. "A pretty one this time, I think. As pretty as your own."

Arya also have ton of swan symbolism.

The Lady that Arya would wear dresses for and act like a Lady(because she was kind to arya) ... is Ravella from House Swann. A "Swann" tells Arya she is pretty!

Add the fact that Arya literally sees 3 swans on a lake and wishes to be a swan. George adds beautiful bird imagery to her chapters like in the Mercy chapter where he compares her legs to bird wings. Even her water dancing is inspired by ballet where Arya actually wears pointy shoes and has the duality of Swan Lake interwoven in her story.

Also the fact that she is the only dark hair/grey eyes of Ned's children (Swan). Born amoung southern looking Tully siblings (ducks). Arya is figuratively born a Swan. So thats definitely important.

The only person who doesn't think arya is pretty is arya herself. Because of all the mocking and bullying has taken a toll on arya and she has internalized it. They why arya herself doesn't think she is pretty. But onlookers has always seen her beauty and commented on that even though arya doesn't believe it. But that is going to change as arya gets older. Also her next phase of training will likely be with a courtesans so she might regain some of her self confidence.

#arya stark #asoiaf

[xinxiaogato]

— you're dating who!?

summary. no one believes that you’re dating the esteemed duke of the fortress of meropide. that man is only ever seen locking lips with the orifice of a teacup. however, all of that changes when you and your alleged “boyfriend” are invited to a coworker’s dinner party.

love interest. gn!reader x wriothesley.

warnings. unedited, cursing, bullying, attempted homewrecking, mentions of blood, murder, and assault (nothing crazy), slight angst, lack of communication, a bit suggestive (mentions of light bdsm).

word count. 2,187

note. happy late birthday to wriothesley! this shortfic was inspired by a scene from spy x family (iykyk). you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

while loading up your plate with chips and french fontainian onion dip, you could sense the smugness of your colleagues from all the way across the dining room.

“i mean, we all saw this coming, didn’t we?” one of them piped up with a snarky laugh.

another obnoxiously chortled in return. “i won't forget the day reader told us who could have possibly given them those flowers.”

“right!? and i’m lady furina!”

that joke rocked their worlds to the point that one person started choking on their garlic baguette. your eyes flitted over to your friend, pauline, who was shaking with rage beside you and on the verge of strangling someone.

“why i oughta give them a piece of my mind!” caterwauled pauline, but you perched a hand on her shoulder so that she wouldn’t go ballistic—even if it was on your behalf.

“can’t really blame them,” you conceded. “if you told me you were in a relationship with the iudex of fontaine, i would need a minute.”

“are you saying it’s impossible?”

“i’m saying it’s highly unlikely.”

“hmph! a girl can dream.” pauline haughtily raised her nose into the air and crossed her arms with indignation, which tugged your lips into a small smile. you knew she had your best interests in mind. since day dot, your coworkers were constantly unleashing a tirade of vitriol against you. “anyway, where’s your boyfriend? did he get caught up with something?”

“probably,” you ascertained, taking a sip of red wine. you looked for a seat to settle at; you couldn’t let your chips go cold. “he warned me that he might not make it in time for the party. a new batch of inmates was processed for registration today, and allegedly, they’re unruly.”

her eyes widened after connecting the dots. “are they related to the famous case of the missing paintings? they finally caught the culprits!?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t know? it’s all over the steambird.”

as you and pauline were sitting down, the hostess of the party, anaïs, and her entourage strode over with purpose. one of anaïs’s minions was the first to start yapping, “well, if it isn’t reader, the person dating the wolf!”

“more like the person who cried wolf!” followed anaïs, which made the group howl like hyenas.

rolling your eyes at their sneers, you replied, “where is your husband, anaïs? don’t tell me he’s at the office ‘working overtime’ with his assistant again.”

all of anaïs’s friends practically broke their necks to look at her.

“h-how did you know about that…!?” anaïs spluttered, her cheeks flared red. “that’s… that’s my personal affairs you’re airing to everyone!”

a follower of anaïs cupped a hand to her ear and hissed, “don’t you remember? reader is friends with charlotte, a journalist for the steambird. she’s notorious for her intel gathering so that she can compete with others for the juiciest scoops!”

“hey, hey, does charlotte know anything about monsieur neuvillette’s type?” pauline whispered to which you were about to answer—only for anaïs to grab your glass of wine.

“you think you’re so high and mighty all the time…!” anaïs said in a shrill voice, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “at least i don’t pretend i’m the bitch of the lord of the fortress of meropide to get attention!”

“i think it would be better for you to channel your energy into divorcing that shitty excuse of a husband,” you corrected her, unfazed by the fact she was threateningly holding the drink above your head. “it’s not your fault that he’s a scumbag, so don’t stick around to see if he’ll change.”

something in anaïs seemed to falter at your words, but it was only for a moment. resentment got the best of her, and in the blink of an eye, red liquid was splashed onto your chest and dripping down your top, making bystanders gasp at the scene before them.

it kind of looked like you just got murdered.

“what is wrong with you!?” pauline furiously yelled after jumping up to shield you, who was still reeling from what happened. “how old are you to be acting like an immature brat!?”

as pauline and one of anaïs’s flunkies began to pull at each other’s hair, a different one pointed a finger into your face while cackling. “ha, serves you right! that outfit must have been dirt cheap anyway, so it couldn’t have been a total loss!”

“oh, you wouldn’t want your shoes ruined, right?” a second cooed, snatching them right off your feet and looking for the nearest window to chuck them out of. “don’t worry, i’ll dry them off for you!”

you got up to take them right back, but anaïs blocked your path, eyes narrowed into slits. “just admit it, reader,” she snarled. “you’re nothing but an attention-seeking whore for the fortress of meropide’s administrator, a goody two-shoes for our boss, and a laughing stock for all of fontaine. you’re nothing!”

“monsieur wriothesley!” a voice resounded from down the hallway, causing everyone in the dining room to freeze. “we’re so honored to have you join us! did lady anaïs invite you?”

before you knew it, a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind to give you a tight squeeze, and a pair of lips kissed the top of your head.

“so sorry i’m late, my love,” a deep voice purred by your ear. “my hands were tied…”

his voice trailed off. wriothesley, whose sudden appearance had dropped every partygoer’s jaw, noticed that your top felt weirdly damp. when he craned his neck to investigate, his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. 

he immediately questioned if it was your blood or not.

“reader!” your boyfriend shouted, turning you around and holding you by the shoulders. a fear he had only felt as a teenager flooded rapidly into his system, and it was taking everything in him to not explode. “what happened to you? are you hurt!?”

you were still stunned in the aftermath, but you quickly collected yourself and placed your hands atop his. “no, no, i’m fine, wrio. i’m not hurt. it’s just red wine.”

“red… red wine?”

recovering from his initial shock, wriothesley twisted around, his jacket fluttering swiftly in tandem. his eyes took in the sight of an awestruck anaïs holding something behind her back and a petrified person clutching onto a pair of shoes (which explained why your dogs were out).

in a calm tone more terrifying than him speaking out of anger, wriothesley said to the hostess, “i apologize for souring the mood. however…” quickly, he engulfed your body with his jacket and swept you off your feet, hitching the air in your throat as he held you close to his chest. “my partner is not feeling well, so we’ll be taking our leave. we humbly thank you for the invitation.”

“b-but you just got here!” anaïs fretted.

her first mistake was revealing the wine glass she was desperately trying to hide earlier. in wriothesley’s realm, we call this a foul.

“reader was just a little tipsy and spilled a drink on themselves!” she crooned, tilting her head up at the duke and innocently batting her eyelashes. “why don’t you stay and become acquainted with your partner’s coworkers?”

her second foul: coveting a man in a relationship.

“i mean, they can’t be unwell to the point of needing to go home!”

her third: messing with reader. and three fouls meant a disqualification.

“heavens, no,” wriothesley insisted. “my partner’s health is my main priority, and time is of the essence. besides, the longer i remain, the less time i have to file a detailed report on an assault and battery that took place here.”

it became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

“a…assault…?” even through the makeup caked on anaïs’s face, you could see the color drain from it entirely. “what… what assault…!? no assault happened here, your grace!” when his frown spoke volumes, she cried out, “y-you don’t have any proof!”

“oh, i would suggest otherwise. and i believe there are many eyewitnesses to testify.”

you peered around at the guests who had gathered to view the spectacle, and they were nodding in support of wriothesley’s claim, including pauline. even anaïs’s goons were vehemently bobbing their heads up and down, still in disbelief that the man, the myth, the legend himself had graced them with his presence.

“now if you’ll excuse me…” with you firmly in his grasp, wriothesley approached the woman still clinging to your footwear, who immediately began to quiver. “i would like for you to return my partner’s shoes,” he ordered with a look as cold as ice.

“o-of course!” she stammered, extending the shoes toward him. “it was all in good fun, your grace!”

“oh, those aren’t mine,” he said with a cock of his head at your bare toes. “like i said, those belong to my partner.”

finally picking up what was he putting down, the lady shakily slipped your shoes back on your feet for which you glanced up at wriothesley with furrowed eyebrows. he only reacted with a smile that thawed the rigid expression on his face.

“i-i can’t possibly rot in jail!” anaïs was still making a fuss nearby. “i’m so young and beautiful! can’t you look past this, monsieur wriothesley…!? i’ll do anything!”

“well, it’s not something you’ll go to prison for, ma’am,” he said, not even sparing anaïs a glance as he headed for the front door, “but this misdemeanor will forever stain your official records and reputation… just as you stained my partner’s clothes.” (mic drop.)

and that was that. with a quick kiss on both cheeks from pauline, you exited the dead-quiet house in your boyfriend’s arms.

“wrio…” you murmured as he started walking in the direction of your home. “i’m really sorry for inconveniencing you.”

wriothesley momentarily stopped in his tracks to gaze down at you, his lips pursed before sighing. “no… don’t apologize, my love. i’m sorry for not arriving sooner.”

“but that isn’t your fault,” you pointed out.

a chuckle resonated from deep within his chest. “touché.”

however, his lightheartedness faded out with that chuckle when his hands gripped onto you tighter, as if you were about to dissolve into water at any moment.

“what happened, reader?” he croaked, displaying a side of him reserved for your eyes alone. “how long have they been treating you like this? and for you to not even give them a taste of the boxing skills i taught you for these kinds of situations…”

you clutched his jacket tighter to your body. “you already have so much on your plate. i could not dare to tell you something that may weigh on your conscience.”

“please,” he whispered. “i want you to weigh on my conscience.”

after a moment’s worth of hesitation, you finally gave in, explaining that the fresh bouquet of rainbow roses he sent to your office one morning sent your colleagues into a frenzy that turned your life into a nightmare. as you spoke, wriothesley’s expression became grimmer and grimmer. he couldn’t even fathom how much of a shitshow your company was for permitting the kind of behavior he merely glimpsed this evening.

and he couldn't bear the thought that you had been suffering alone for months.

“they didn’t believe me for a second, even when i had pictures of you and me framed on my desk. ‘oh, those must have been edited’.”

realizing wriothesley's muscles were so taut, you attempted to alleviate the atmosphere. “i guess no one can accept an ordinary office worker dating the administrator of the fortress of meropide. like, picture the tianquan of the liyue qixing with an npc.”

in any other situation, your boyfriend would be laughing, but certainly not this one. “no one can determine our relationship,” wriothesley stated with a clear veracity. “you are the light in my bleak world, reader, and nothing is allowed to take you away from me. if so, i will travel to the ends of teyvat to bring you back.”

he then grinned, showing off his cute canines. “and you bet i'll put my handcuffs to use.”

you slapped a hand to your forehead. “way to ruin the mood. i was just about to kiss you.”

in response, he grinded his knuckles into the top of your head, which made you yodel out in pain. “what was that for!?” you exclaimed.

“for not kissing me, but more importantly: for keeping a secret from me,” he clarified, his pale gray eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “no more of that, okay?”

you warmly smiled up at him and rested your head against his broad shoulder, completely wiped out from the party-turned-fiasco. “okay.”

as the two of you reached your abode, a question popped up in your mind. “were you serious about the handcuff thing?”

he smirked. “yes, and you’ll find out just how serious i am after we take a shower together. you reek of wine.”

a pink blush dusted your cheeks. “what? together!?”

“together. you and me.”

“ahhh! put me down!”

“nope. not a chance.”

© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #wriothesley x reader #fluff #crack #comfort #angst #stella writes — ! #you're dating who!?

[meidiary]

( 📁 ) THEM ACTING OVERLY JEALOUS

synopsis: the monster trio and how they act when they're way too jealous for their own good...

characters: luffy, sanji & zoro!

warnings: a teeny tinyyy amount of swearing [:

a/n: first time writing for them so i'm pretty nervous!!! , hope you enjoy!! banner is made by me, inspired by the lovely @sixosix and the layout is inspired by the lovely @luckyscribbles <3

it was his fault! it really was.. he was the sole reason you were entertaining this way too confident guy- because he told you you were out of his league! can you believe that?! and now ZORO is throwing daggers at the poor man just with his piercing gaze alone..

ignoring zoro's needy angry glares he's sending you two, you continue charming your ... acquauntance, growing his already far too stretched ego. "oh darling, how i could melt in those beautiful emerald colored eyes of yours~" and with that sanji cringe-worthy comment you got him babbling on about himself... again.

you're getting progressively more annoyed the longer you hear him try to flirt with you. nonetheless you don't move an inch, because you know he's watching your every move; waiting for you to come moping to him about the guy. he'd feel a sense pride because you came back to him. and that pride, the face he makes whenever he turns out to be right about something, albeit it's a very handsome one, is the last thing you want to witness right now.

so you keep yourself from throwing this guy's drink in his face and telling him his cologne is absolutely murdering your sense of smelling.

you look up as you suddenly stop hearing the random guy talk about some castle garden of his. he gulps hesistantly whilst zoro stands before you, hands in his pockets. "we're leaving." no you're not! "oh zoro~ i barely-" "now." you stand up and turn to leave, but quickly turn back around and give the stranger a kiss on his cheek before leaving with zoro, causing his cheeks to change to a red-shade.

"miss! will i ever see you again?!" he asks before backing up seeing zoro's death glare. "my love, if we are meant to be we will definitely meet again!" what's up with you and these shakespear lines?

zoro gives you a slight shove with his shoulder as he rolld his eyes for what seems like the millionth time this hour. "i think i found my soulmate zoro!" you sang while you interlocked you arm with his. you were met with yet another eye-roll.

"you were the one that said he's out of my league, remember?" zoro huffs annoyed. "shit- that was a joke damn it!" "if anything you're out of his fucking league, dumbass" you lean onto him as you two continue making your way back to the going merry.

"maybe i exaggerated a bit too.." you slowly admit before hearing his usual chuckle. "just don't go flirting with some stranger again, ever. shit could've gone wrong real fast y'know?" you smile sheepishly and nod. "good thing you were there huh?"

and you could've sworn you say his cheeks turn into a rose color before he swiftly turned his head to the side, greeting sanji and nami. was he blushing..?

SANJI was this close.. this close to absolutely losing it and slicing this daring man up with zoro's swords. who does he think he is? flirtingly, charmingly speaking with his lover?! well truth be told.. you two weren't official, far from it actually;

you two were so close to finally having the months-due talk about the classic, what are we-question. but of course sanji had to hit on the waitress that casually passed your table. that was your final straw. if he couldn't stop his antics for one night, you would resume yours for good.

and oh how it made him clench his fists so hard they became white, how it made him ignore all the beautiful ladies surrounding him, for what felt like the first time ever, how he saw you with your pretty dress on, that he bought for you because it reminded him of you, sat on some navy's lap, entertaining the bastard not worhty of a single enchanting smile of yours. yet there you were smiling, no laughing at something the navy said, all while you were supposed to be with sanji. laughing at something he said, playing with his hair, sat on his lap.

he was this close to exploding and increasing his bounty a good amount by punching this navy untill his fists fell off. "sanji, don't you fucking dare." nami warned him, glaring at him from the other side of the table, not in the mood to be on the run again after finally being able to relax for a day.

sanji heard nami, he did! but the minute he saw the disgusting navy's hand run up your thigh causing you to jump off of him, he finally lost it. "keep your fucking hands off her you sewer rat!" he jumped up sprinting at the navy, his snow-white fists ready to release all the pent up anger he held.

but before sanji got to the navy he was stopped by you. your soft, slightly cold hands holding back one of his clenched fists. causing him to slowly unclench it. you tried to push sanji back, knowing his uproar would bring about another navy chasing. "you alright, love?" it's as if all his previous anger vanished the moment he felt your soft touch, smelled you sweet perfume, the moment you felt like his again. "y-yeah i'm good.. but we should get goi-"

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!" the navy man roared causing the others to swiftly join the yelling. "hey aren't those those strawhat pirates with a bounty?!" from the other side of the room it felt like you could hear nami's long sigh. "see what you've done?! grab zoro, usopp and i will take luffy!" everyone complied and assumed their role.

sanji lifted his leg up ready to kick zoro awake right before you pushed him slightly making him stand on two feet again. "not doing that sanji!" he playfully rolls his eyes at your statement.

waking up zoro and running to the ship in a hurry, with a good 3 dozen navy soldiers running behind you calling you names, was the usual. but what surprised you was sanji holding your hand tightly the whole way, not letting go for a second.

once on the ship, back to sailing on the waters, while everyone was catching their breath, sanji took you aside, he interlocked your hands with his while he locked your gazes, still breathless he looks at you earnestly. his eyes illuminating the moon's glow. "i'll stop the flirting my darling, i promise. the only woman i'll charm will be you.. so you better not grow tired of it." he chuckled still a little breathless. you smiled, leaning your body onto his. "you better sanji.."

"i'm all yours sweetheart. all yours"

LUFFY felt weird. he had never met this man before, yet he suddenly has the urge to gum gum bazooka him for the rest of the day. why is he feeling this way right now? is it because he hadn't eaten yet? no that can't be it.. he just had a very good meal with you; you two had split up from the rest of the crew to have your lunch at some fancy looking restaurant on the beach.

luffy furrows his eyebrows once again because of this feeling. he figures, after a while to be completely honest, that the reason he wants to kick this man off the island is that he's taking way too long speaking with you. he's been occupying you for a good 10 minutes now.

how could he? how did he dare to take you from him so carelessly? you two were enjoying your meals, yes you were chatting about the dumbest subjects known to the world, but you were enjoying it. and then some buff man comes and dares to ask you for directions?! it would've been fine if he had left after receiving them, but no, he had to keep talking to you!

luffy was starting to see red at this point. he gets it he does, you're a beautiful woman, you're smart yet very funny, energetic and enjoyable! but you're his. even though you don't know that, even though he never told you that, you are his. and no buff, tall, slick back haired guy was going to change that one bit.

luffy dropped his food and started to walk towards the two of you, angrily eyeing the bold man who was about to get bazooka-d to some far-away island. luffy started stretching his arms, getting ready to send him off.

you notice right away and block luffy's path to the man. trying to laugh it off, you said your goodbyes to the fella and dragged luffy back to the restaurant. "what were you thinking, luff! that could've ended up horribly!" you whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract any more unwanted gazes.

"he took you from me for 10 minutes! how was I supposed to endure any longer!" luffy childishly pouts as he resumes eating. "you could've just said so! no need to bazooka anyone anywhere luf'!" his furrowed eyebrows soften as he hears his nickname.

the first time you called him that he truly hated it. "it sounds like a dog's name!" he complained. but over time, that nickname became apart of him, it was apart of his daily routine; he'd wake up to it, adventure the world with it, buy groceries with it, hear scolds with it. he became one with that silly nickname you gave him, and he wouldn't give that three-letter name up for the world. he wouldn't be able to go a day anymore without hearing you talking about how "the seashells here are so pretty luf'!", or how "i just love it when it's only you and i, luf'," and let's not forget you waking him up with the usual "luf'! sanji finished breakfast, get up already!".

"you can't go off with weird men. i won't let you.. you shouldn't leave my side for some guy that doesn't even know where he's headed!" you chuckle at his remarks. "i wouldn't leave you for anyone luf'! just.. don't bazooka someone next time.. just talk to me."

"you're mine y'know.." luffy tells you while he's munching on some of his cold meat. your eyes widen at his sudden words. "w-what?" "i said you're mine!" he says louder, a little annoyed thinking you hadn't heard him the first time. "you never said that before.."

"never needed to," he takes another bite. "but you are, so don't forget that!" he furrows his eyebrows again while saying that earning a chuckle from you. "i won't.. don't you worry"

NOTE: and that's for my first one piece ficcccc!!!

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #monkey d. luffy #luffy #one piece luffy #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #anime #x reader #op x reader #one piece fluff

[archiverstappen]

the cat sitter (part 13) ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem! reader

previous part | masterlist | next part

loosely inspired by the story on how max lost his cat

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maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 My crazy cat lady is finally back

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yourusername GUYS DONT WORRY NO CATS WERE HARMED WHILE TAKING THIS PHOTO 🧎‍♀️

↳ username 🤨🤨🤨 suspicious

↳ yourusername BELIEVE ME PLEASE I WOULD NEVER PUT MY KIDS IN DANGER. I WOULD RISK MAX’S WELL BEING TO PROTECT THEM🫂

↳ maxverstappen1 WOW

yourusername starting to wonder, will there ever be a day where you finally post a decent picture of me 🙍‍♀️

↳ maxverstappen1 No

↳ yourusername there will be repercussions for your action

username I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

danielricciardo Okay now i get where the name ‘crazy cat lady’ came from

landonorris 👀👀👀 hehehe yourusername

↳ yourusername sHHHHHHHHH

sophiekumpen 😁🧡

username ANOTHER NON RACE RELATED POST FROM MAX?!?! WE WON

↳ username and it’s of y/n🥹 HE’S DEFINITELY IN LOVE

username SO WE’RE NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT HOW MAX WROTE “MY crazy cat lady”

↳ username REAL, FRIENDS DONT DO WHAT THEY DO😩

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yourusername

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yourusername not fast just furious

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maxverstappen1 SIIIIIUUU

maxverstappen1 Told you I’m a good teacher

↳ yourusername couldn’t see the road properly because my vision was blurry from all the tears that i held

↳ landonorris YOU MADE HER CRY?! maxverstappen

bffusername i jusT KNOW that the driving lessons were chaotic, but props to max for doing something no human being can afford to do 🥹

↳ yourusername iM A GOOD STUDENT!!!!

↳ maxverstappen1 Half of the lessons were filled with her having a breakdown, and the other half were filled with Y/N saying “huh” because she couldn’t hear my instructions through “Tokyo Drift” that was playing in the background

↳ bffusername sounds like the y/n i know 👍

bffusername ANYWAY so excited to finally be yor passenger princess 😘

↳ yourusername i would love to drive you around, but i still don’t know how to park 😁

friendusername Remember that time when you hit my mother’s car in high school? 😂 Look how far you’ve come!!

↳ yourusername THIS STILL KEEPS ME UP AT NIGHT!! IM SO SORRY MRS MARTIN 😭

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author’s note: IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i really hope you guys like this one 🧎🏻‍♀️

taglist: : @flwr-stella @reidsworld @myloverjk-blog @debss-319 @hiraethrhapsody @electrobutterfly @love4lando @lunnnix @allenajade-ite @jjsprobablywrong @whoreks @soleilgrec @oscarwildingsworld @christianpulisic10 @thievin-stealing @glitterf1 @elliegrey2803 @trouble-sistar @escapism-writer @cornerofacry @hollie9111 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @ad-astra-again @canyon-lwt @thecubanator2 @lifesuckslife @leclercloml @sunny44 @nmw-am @sachaa-ff @multilovebot @glow-ish @moneygramhaas @whitefireproofs @icarus-nex @iloveyou3000morgan @ccallistata @copper-boom @fictionalcharacterslut @celesteblack08 @maxiel-jpg @slytherheign @lunyyx @series-books-food @coffeehurricanes @shrimpyshrimp @somanyfandomsbruh @justcallmeelli @laneyspaulding19 @ironmaiden1313

pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram

#max verstappen #formula 1 #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #archiverstappen

[apoemaday]

Eurydice

by Carol Ann Duffy

Girls, I was dead and down in the Underworld, a shade, a shadow of my former self, nowhen. It was a place where language stopped, a black full stop, a black hole Where the words had to come to an end. And end they did there, last words, famous or not. It suited me down to the ground.

So imagine me there, unavailable, out of this world, then picture my face in that place of Eternal Repose, in the one place you’d think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems, hovers about while she reads them, calls her His Muse, and once sulked for a night and a day because she remarked on his weakness for abstract nouns. Just picture my face when I heard -- Ye Gods -- a familiar knock-knock at Death’s door.

Him. Big O. Larger than life. With his lyre and a poem to pitch, with me as the prize.

Things were different back then. For the men, verse-wise, Big O was the boy. Legendary. The blurb on the back of his books claimed that animals, aardvark to zebra, flocked to his side when he sang, fish leapt in their shoals at the sound of his voice, even the mute, sullen stones at his feet wept wee, silver tears.

Bollocks. (I’d done all the typing myself, I should know.) And given my time all over again, rest assured that I’d rather speak for myself than be Dearest, Beloved, Dark Lady, White Goddess etc., etc.

In fact girls, I’d rather be dead.

But the Gods are like publishers, usually male, and what you doubtless know of my tale is the deal.

Orpheus strutted his stuff.

The bloodless ghosts were in tears. Sisyphus sat on his rock for the first time in years. Tantalus was permitted a couple of beers. The woman in question could scarcely believe her ears.

Like it or not, I must follow him back to our life -- Eurydice, Orpheus’ wife -- to be trapped in his images, metaphors, similes, octaves and sextets, quatrains and couplets, elegies, limericks, villanelles, histories, myths…

He’d been told that he mustn’t look back or turn round, but walk steadily upwards, myself right behind him, out of the Underworld into the upper air that for me was the past. He’d been warned that one look would lose me for ever and ever.

So we walked, we walked. Nobody talked.

Girls, forget what you’ve read. It happened like this -- I did everything in my power to make him look back. What did I have to do, I said, to make him see we were through? I was dead. Deceased. I was Resting in Peace. Passé. Late. Past my sell-by date… I stretched out my hand to touch him once on the back of the neck. Please let me stay. But already the light had saddened from purple to grey.

It was an uphill schlep from death to life and with every step I willed him to turn. I was thinking of filching the poem out of his cloak, when inspiration finally struck. I stopped, thrilled. He was a yard in front. My voice shook when I spoke -- Orpheus, your poem’s a masterpiece. I’d love to hear it again…

He was smiling modestly, when he turned, when he turned and he looked at me.

What else? I noticed he hadn’t shaved. I waved once and was gone.

The dead are so talented. The living walk by the edge of a vast lake near, the wise, drowned silence of the dead.

#poetry #carol ann duffy #eurydice

[throwaway-yandere]

𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙙𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 (Yandere!Neuvillette/Reader)

a/n: this was inspired by my favorite childhood TV show, House MD & Oedipus Rex. The plot was supposed to be something else but dingleaf happened one 4AM ago. Anyways, welcome to our first Throwaway-Thursday this End of Year Blues!!!

Unreliable Synopsis: Everyone held their breath when they heard ex-defense attorney (Y/n) say these words: "Your Honor, I would like to challenge Champion Duelist Clorinde to clear my charges."

CW: yandere themes, reader has so much spite I can fry an egg, hurt/NO COMFORT. Please prioritize your mental health if these CWs are triggering to you. (Note: The plot happens a month before the Fontaine AQ, so he doesn't know about what happened to Vautrin.)

“Why the pale expression? Has the trial last week caused you tremendous pain?”

"Such pallor is caused by pity, not grief.” Neuvilette made his fragile excuse to reassure Furina, but the words did not reach her ears. The ringing of raindrops outside was louder, more convincing. Fontaine is vexed with storms near-daily. The sad verdant earth will soon sponge and dry the hydro dragon’s tears as always, but every man hopes they won’t drown first. 

At first, he was convinced what he harbored was pity. For the pessimists, Fontaine is a nation where virtuous pagans paraded themselves as rich and devoted ran amok. Absolute justice is a cartoonish ideal– lack of entertainment is the death sentence. 

Lady Furina was starting to believe he lives his life by a certain suspect’s final envoi: 

Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

"Are you insane?!" Navia held your shoulders, eyes wide. 

This was the worst thing you could ever do to your best friend. 

"Maybe I am." You told her, chuckling slightly as your thumbs caressed the nerves behind her palms. Navia, as intimidating as her occupation was, never once gripped you this hard. 

You wish you could hug her fully.

But these prison bars are holding you back.

"Can you blame me, Nav?"

"Don't." She glared. "Don't do this."

Navia trembled.

"Please, don't follow Dad..."

The blonde woman was reduced to a young, hopeless girl. You saw a reflection of the small Navia who lost Callas, and that short glimpse was stretched into a whole tragic spectacle. 

"I'm begging you, (Y/n). Please… d-don't go away. Don't leave me too…"

This was the cruelest you've ever been to someone you love.

But also the kindest you've been to yourself.

"There's nothing else I can do, Nav."

"W-We can always do something! There must be a way!" She screamed gutturally. "We'll find a way to make that Chief Justice pay instead. If there's a will—"

"But there's none. There is no will in me left."

"Then hold on to mine, for Archon's sake! Depend on me!"

"What for? We both lack the means to grasp our Archon's hand." You shook your head, grinning without life. 

You wiped the tears off her cheeks. In a small fraction of time, you trembled, showing a bit of soul.

"Our Goddess has abandoned me. Everyone and everything but you had." You said. "Dear Navia, don't make this harder for yourself. Let me go."

"(Y/n)..."

Her grip relaxed.

Navia finally let go.

But that was not the scene's last word.

Clorinde sprinted towards your cell, seething in electric rage. Navia stepped back. Their relationship might be less than cordial, but Clorinde was also your friend.

And after all these years of friendship, she never would've guessed you would elicit such melancholic frustration within her.

She knows she'll come out of this duel victorious.

She knows if she doesn't say a word, she'll be the one to bury you six feet under.

Clorinde's fists clenched and her breathing grew harsh and difficult, unable to accept your inhumane gaze.

"Is this your solution, (Y/n)?"

From the tone of her voice, this would not be a pleasant conversation. One wrong word, and you'll see a side of the Champion Duelist not even her court opponents knew.

You nodded.

"Yes."

"State your reason."

"Because this is the only way I'll die with dignity."

…

"Die… with dignity?"

Something inside her cracked.

"Yes." You nodded again, becoming uncertain. "At least with this, there would be something Neuvillette cannot decide for me. And (Y/n) (L/n) chooses a dignified death."

“DEATH HAS NO DIGNITY!!!” 

You and Navia flinched at the sudden sound.

Clorinde screamed, feeling her eyes burn. Her veins became more prominent in her face and her skin reddish. The sheer force of her scream was enough to bring your full attention to her, yet to the duelist, her uncharacteristic outburst meant nothing.

“DEATH WILL ALWAYS BE UGLY!!! DEATH– DEATH IS NEVER BEAUTIFUL!!! IT IS ALWAYS SINISTER— LOATHSOME AND VILE.”

"Clor—"

She pulled you by your collar.

“There– there is only dignity in living.” She trembled, casting her gaze down. “You can live with dignity– but you can’t die with it.”

For a while, only her unsteady breathing could be heard.

Clorinde eventually calmed down, her heavy sighs and frantic pants slowing as the red hue of her face somewhat returned to its usual pale complexion. She couldn’t afford a second more to process her growing grief.

"Find another duelist."

As a successor to the Marechaussee Hunters, there's no one else you need but her.

"But I want you."

"(Y/n)."

"You've always been my idol, Clorinde." You told her solemnly. "I always thought you at least made my clients have a clean death under your blade."

Clorinde paused.

That, she cannot deny. 

She did spare mercy to the people you defended. But she doesn't understand how you fail to comprehend why she couldn't bear to bring herself to enact the same reprieve for you.

"Retrieve your gloves. I don't and I won't accept your challenge." Clorinde closed her eyes. "Live your days in the Fortress instead. Death is not the solution."

You laughed. As if you'd let yourself be under Wriothesley's guidance when you can smell from miles away that he's one of Neuvillette's lap dogs.

"Isn't this suffering enough?" You spoke with a casual lack of self-preservation. "I don't want to live under Neuvillette's scrutinizing eyes. Not anymore."

You looked up.

That empty smile was no longer on your face.

And that was somehow more frightening than it should be.

"So do your job as a champion and end it all, just like what you've done to Uncle Callas and the others."

Your last conversation with the Duke was not as memorable as when he caught you spiking the Iudex’s cup, yet you’d give his personality credit where it is due. His was certainly a memorable one.

Wriothesley stood a few steps away from the bars while you purposefully cornered yourself. The distance was noticeable. It was clear that neither of you was close to each other. This was mere formality brought about by one of your should’ve-been victims.

“So, you sure don’t want to be roommates?” Wriothesley asked. "Or you know, see old friends and family down there?"

"I'd rather not disappoint them with my presence."

“So, you're a coward?" He asked, intending to provoke you.

"Maybe?" you answered, mimicking his tone. "Wouldn't know. Last time I checked, I was an honorable defense attorney. But suddenly, the Iudex had a change of heart."

"Neuvillette didn't have a change of heart. You are a terrorist."

You laughed sardonically, "suppose so."

You both weren't entirely wrong. Friends and foe alike know you've turned to rebellion after the justice system had failed you repeatedly. Neuvillette's lovestruck fixation was merely the final straw.

“You’re walking on a death sentence.”

“No shit,” you clicked your tongue and continued. “What else do you think this is for?”

“The Iudex was convinced that you’re acting out because you had a guilty conscience, and he’s very willing to drop those charges and forgive you.”

“Guilty conscience?! HA!!!” You laughed. “As if I felt guilty for what I’ve done. If anything, I’m rejoicing.”

Wriothesley smirked, but it faded quickly.

“I told him the same, but then he says if that were true, you’re probably just masking it to play the villain’s part.”

“Do you believe every word he says?”

“No,” Wriothesley did not hesitate to answer. “I know a criminal when I see one. And I also know when a criminal can get away with their mess.”

“The jury thinks otherwise– the oratrice cannot be wrong.” You snickered. “I’m as guilty as they come, hands filled with arsenic and all.”

"You can still get out of this. Sure, you'll get a stern talking-to— a lecture on the virtue of honor and respect. But in the end, he'd give you a second chance. He's still hoping that a mutual agreement will arise in the end."

You expressed your disinterest with a droopy-eyed “Blah, blah, blah…”

Wriothesley frowned.

“You’ll make him depressed.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“And you think I care? Fontaine can flood next month. Just as long as I die tomorrow it’s none of my business.”

…

“Well, it’s your call,” Wriothesley said. “If you’re willing to throw your life away like that, then you probably wouldn’t survive a week underwater.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the bars.

“You know, (Y/n),” the Duke looked at you dead in the eye. “Marriage with the Iudex isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

You laughed.

“What makes you say that?” You smiled through gritted teeth. “Are you his second spouse?”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugged. “You could’ve just lived a bit more silently.”

You glared. 

“Are you saying I should live like a caged bird? That I should accept that our system here is rigged?”

“I’m saying you should’ve been more grateful with what you have.”

You scoffed.

“Wow.”

An awkward silence followed after. It wasn’t as if a quip was hard to form– but the historical context behind whom you were speaking to made weighing empathy over spite a challenge. You knew of his past, his name or lack thereof, and quiet allegiance to Neuvillette. Sigewinne had made sure you knew of it to glorify the adoptive “father” of the Melusines. Wriothesley owes him his survival.

But "Wriothesley" of all people should've known that those who know morbid truths cannot be silenced forever. 

And Neuvillette owes you a peaceful death. 

… The Duke sighed, noticing that his admiration for the Iudex did not align with his current morals.

“We’ll forever agree to disagree on this, won’t we?” He asked.

“Hopefully not forever, I don’t want to stay here for much longer.”

Wriothesley chuckled at your morbid joke. But before he could walk away with a less-than-heavy heart, you shifted from your corner.

“Hey, Wriothesley?”

He turned to look at you– your hand specifically.

It’s a letter.

“Mind handing these to the authorities?”

Wriothesley’s eyes widened.

“Is that–”

“It’s a written confession,” you chuckled. “Don’t ask me how I got a pen and paper. I know that damn bastard forbids anyone to lend me anything that’ll help me write a final will. Gotta say, at least his etiquette lessons had some use. At least my last words are in pretty cursive.”

He didn’t say another word. 

…

The Duke left the room, empty-handed.

…

No one wants to see the Iudex more heartbroken than he already is now.

The interrogation room was small, but not to the point that there was a minimal budget for its construction. You sat on one end behind the glass divider after one of the guards took your letter. There were only plain walls and two lightbulbs on the ceiling. At the center of the room is a table with two chairs on either side, no pen or paper. 

Nothing but an empty table. 

But the quiet comfort was gone when the man of the hour closed the door behind him. As the ticking of the clock becomes more softer, the two individuals would be forced to sit for the duration of this “interrogation.”

It was none other than your husband, the Iudex, the Chief Justice of Fontaine, and the bane of your existence.

Monsieur Neuvillette.

His back was straight; his eyes, “stern” and focused. He clasped his hands together, fingers intertwined. His gaze searched for something— regret, remorse, anything that could make the upcoming nightmare disappear. 

Neuvillette's voice was “calm” and “collected.” 

But you didn’t buy it. Not with his messy hair, his forlorn look, his frown. You rarely saw him cry. You had a gut feeling he hides it by standing amidst heavy rain, but this time the redness of his eyes and puffiness of his cheeks says it all.

It’s a heavy downpour outside. 

He can’t be bothered to hide his tears from the public eye anymore.

"In your own words, please explain why you had attempted to poison me."

Your eyes lit up. He immediately wished he could take those words back. 

So, he’s still in denial. Neuvillette seriously didn’t think you wrote the letter. He probably didn’t think it was your handwriting. It was almost insulting.

“Oh, Monsieur! You are as generous as they say, finally letting your spouse speak for themselves!” You grinned sarcastically. “And they say chivalry is dead! DEAD!!!”

He cringed at your pointed enthusiasm.

You recount the day you attempted to murder him, describing how you had slipped the poison into his favorite cup. How you didn’t really care to hope it wouldn’t be noticed since what mattered more to you was his death over your own freedom. The more detailed you became, the more it suffocated him.

“But, as you can see, you’re alive and I am behind this glass window,” you tapped the divider. “Away from you, at last.”

He bit his lip.

“(Y/n)—”

“I hate you.”

He breathed in shakily.

“I know.”

“And yet you still fell for it.” Your voice suddenly softened. 

“Why?” You continued. “Why did you believe my act for the past month? I know you had your suspicions, so why? You knew I was just playing along to get your guard down– to act like some loving housewife so I can find the opportunity to smother you with a pillow– so… why?”

“Maybe…”

Neuvillette took a deep breath.

“Maybe it’s because dying by your hands would be a dignified way to go.”

Your eyes widened. The air turned to glue. Breathing became a challenge.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. Monsieur Neuvillette was serious. No shifting position can make you feel comfortable. 

Because Neuvillette in his most sincere form of speech is the most brutal.

“I just wished to be loved by y-you,” his voice cracked. “Even for a moment, even for a lie, I would die to know I was loved by you.”

His face crumpled, tears flowing freely. He reached a hand out against the glass window, his palm marking the divider. Neuvillette was breathing erratically, desperate to hold you. The pain in his chest was getting heavier, much like the rain outside. You almost couldn’t hear him from all the background noise, and you wished that was what happened. 

This was the man who took your clients' happiness. The man who took Uncle Callas away with his rationale. The reason for your unhappiness.

And yet, you couldn't think of any other person who would love you as much as he does. 

“Y-You know me for who I-I am,” he gasped out. “I am but a weak and beaten down man w-who couldn’t express himself like a human being. Y-You were there, you comforted me with not a smile, an umbrella, or thoughtless words of encouragement— you accepted me for who I was with a warm embrace.” 

You hated it. 

You hate how your heart ached for the man that made your life a living hell.

“I was the leader of the Revolution and I needed intel against you, nothing more.” You spat. This time, you were the least convincing one. “It was an act of kindness I shouldn’t have done.”

“Yet it has helped me more than you had accounted for.”

“And never before have I ever regretted playing savior.”

“I was merely attempting to reform your life,” Neuvillette breathlessly spoke. “I wished to set you on the right path. You were a gifted individual with great connections. Your peers had high expectations of you. For you to throw that away for nonsense activism— no— terrorism is heartbreaking. And I—”

Neuvillette gulped.

“I didn’t want to face you on the other side of the courtroom.”

You laughed.

“Some things are just fated to happen,” you said. “An old astrologist told me that. She told me I was bound to get myself in deep legal trouble. Growing up, I figured it might as well be a cause worth doing if it’ll lead me to that path eventually. Why else did I become a defense attorney in such a hellishly political land?”

He trembled, tears falling at a faster rate.

You almost wanted to reach out and wipe those tears away.

Almost.

“Must you treat your life as though it is disposable?” Neuvillette asked, choking slightly. “Why are you…”

You digressed. “You’re not going to retract those charges are you?”

“I did.”

You frowned.

“But Lady Furina would not allow it,” he shook, frustrated. “She found out about your past, your hatred for her so-called incompetences and published lese-majestes.”

“Good for her, good for her.”

Neuvillette’s hand slowly slid down.

“I can’t… I cannot watch this…”

You felt a surge of confidence, for Neuvillette was indeed devoid of hope. You've never seen him with his head hung low. What went through Neuvillette's mind remained uncertain. Perhaps, just a small piece of him knew you could never be his. Perhaps he knew that you were destined for a doomed fate.

But it doesn't matter. 

All that mattered was that you were free.

That was a month ago.

The rain had been going on nonstop for thirty days, and the Hydro Archon had every right to worry. 

“I can’t sleep…” Neuvillette thought he spoke out loud, but it was just a whisper. He’s growing weak, his sleep deprivation catching up to him.

“Then come lay your head down,” she yawned slightly, fanning her breath. “Such heavy thoughts need a place to rest.”

“An irresistible offer,” Neuvillette mused humorlessly. “But I must decline.”

“Oh Neuvillette, when will you relax from this role you carry?” The archon spoke rhetorically.

Neuvillette chuckled sadly.

The heavy downpour wouldn’t stop. 

Perhaps…

Perhaps when the day comes and he is stripped of dignity.

Maybe then, he’ll have his rest.

Neuvillette had already forgotten why he was crying that fateful day. But in those memories, he recalls he was callow and unformed. Was it due to an unfavorable trial? The problem evades him. His recollection remains only in how the people reacted around him. Many asked if he was okay and he'd reply with a simple "I'm fine". And he was, until he could no longer convince himself with that lie. He was certain he was about to dip his toes in another cycle of nihilism.

And then you came.

“Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The rain was pouring out in the cemetery. You were there; your presence questionable. He knew that you arrived intending to probe whether or not he was a sovereign dragon, but he gave you the nod of acknowledgment.

“Greetings, Mx. (Y/n),” he answered, “I trust you’ve been well? Is there a person whom you’re visiting?”

He asked in sheer politeness despite knowing your motivations.

“...”

You frowned.

“How long?”

“Pardon?”

“How long have you been carrying that loneliness, Monsieur?” You asked, voice louder. “How long?”

His lip quivered.

“Centuries, perhaps,” the Iudex thought he could pass it off as a light joke to catch you off-guard, but it came off as too sincere. “I do not keep track.”

You cautiously and awkwardly approached Neuvillette, and without a word, wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace.

Just like what Uncle Callas had done for you before.

Your existence here was anathema and your words were seditious. His initial reaction was to resist because he knew you were just like Vautrin. He knew you were secretly seeking vengeance because the oratrice unfavorably judged numerous friends and family.

But he needed it. He needed this badly.

It was then that the Iudex decided that he needed you. That he will keep you.

Neuvillette cannot handle another Vautrin— he can't handle another Carole. So, he'll do it right this time. He'll keep you safe, from your illegal associations and even from yourself. 

And it was a selfish yet necessary need.

A lump formed in his throat as a tear fell, trickling down his cheek slowly. He allowed himself to melt in your hug, trembling. 

“You’re going to need all the hugs you can get if you’re planning to stay as Iudex for centuries more,” you whispered. “You’re resilient, but in this world, that solitary resilience won’t be enough, won’t it?”

Unable to maintain his stoic facade any longer, Neuvillette gripped you tighter in that embrace, his vulnerability finally resurfacing physically rather than Fontaine's rains. Surprised by his sudden tirade of sobs, you embraced him with all the warmth you could muster. At that moment, you had an epiphany. Despite the enmity of their positions, they were the same. Both of you were victims of a nation that demanded more in your assigned roles than you could bear.

“If you'd let me, I'll be the person you’d come to if you ever need a hug.” You weren’t sure if you said it as a devious plan or an act of empathy. “I wouldn’t mind. Not at all.”

You've made yourself important to him now. 

Neuvillette cannot lose you too.

As he clung to the solace you inadvertently provided, you can't help but wish you never extended that small comfort months later. Every inch given could be exploited, and when you offered him a shred of empathy, he had seized it and turned it into a mile-long advantage. The vulnerability shared in that hug was the dangerous crack in the sword you've worked so hard to maintain.

And so, when the time came you faced Champion Duelist Clorinde with it, the gaps broke the sword completely and with its death came soon the end of your life.

She was right. There is no dignity in dying with a broken hilt.

But there was peace.

And as much as you hated Neuvillette, you wish he’d have it too.

"I've made it this far, and all I've ever done was in accordance with what fate and others wanted of me. In my demise, let me do something for myself." “After all, I’ve learned from watching Uncle Callas when he fought Champion Duelist Clorinde— an encounter I’ll surely experience in the next few days— that there is beauty in the end. In his last moments, my much younger self saw what expression he wore.” “He was content. The most content I had ever seen in someone's face.” “It was then that I had an epiphany. One that I hope my “husband” Neuvillette will remember, and I care not if it will bring him comfort or pain.” “What I learned was simple:” “Count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.”

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added on the other three fics!): @ayadikreino @kireeen, @pebblemacaroon, @thelostpanta, @vennnnn-diagram, @sagekun, @vadelma-yatta, @detectivei @sugarplumcutiepie @sunhareskies @dxprived4-starboys @unloadingdata @harmonysanreads (amen.) @atomicsoulhumanspy @sangoqueenkoko @pix-stuff @dilucragnidvr 

#ansy-writes #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere male #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere #male yandere #yanderecore #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scenarios

[ameliathornromance]

Just wanted to add quick trigger warning: mentions of domestic abuse and assault from husband, but not Orc BF because he's better than that.

This was written and inspired by Run by Daughter, I recommend listening to it while reading <3

“Careful!” Your Orc whispered to you.

Clutching onto the vines of the tower you descended from, you gave a cautious look down to him.

His arms were spread open, wide and prepared to catch you in case you fell.

You couldn’t believe that you were actually doing this. The two of you, imprisoned by the same wretched man were finally getting away.

Your husband, the Earl was an awful man. He was nasty to the servants, if one dared brush too close to him, his bellows of rage were enough to shake the earth.

When something wasn’t done exactly according to the orders the Earl had given you, he would make sure you would get his orders right next time, in the form of a strike to the side of the head.

There were days where you wondered if there was any way out of the suffrage you were forced into. Then your Orc arrived.

The Orc you had fallen for, was captured by the Earl and forced to be your body guard. Your need for a body guard had only become apparent after a run-in with some highway bandits, who took everything of value from your carriage after returning from a Royal Gala. “This creature ought to keep you safe,” your husband proclaimed lazily. After jerking the chain around the Orcs neck, he added, “don’t worry, I’ve made sure he’s tame.”

The two of you lamented over being captured and trapped by the same man. It was strange, the way you two bonded over that. Even more a miracle that the two of you got along together. Both of you shared stories of your lives before you met.

The Orc had been caught by one of many of your dear husbands hunting parties. He and his friends had ambushed him and shackled him. They had beaten him senseless the whole way back to the Manor in which you resided. You apologised for the harsh treatment of your husband. But your Orc dismissed it: “It is not any fault of yours.” He smiled, “I only thank that you are nice, treat me well and sympathise with me.”

You couldn’t recall exactly when you had fallen for your Orc Boyfriend, only that it was some time a few weeks earlier. You and your Orc had been chuckling about something on your way to the dining hall.

You couldn’t remember what it was you were laughing about. Your husband appeared from thin air – and for some reason took great offence to you enjoying yourself – as you arrived at the dining hall.

After shouting obscenities at you, he raised his hand to strike you. Closing your eyes, recoiling, you braced for the sharp flash of pain. Yet nothing happened.

Cautiously, opening your eyes, you saw that your Orc had caught the wrist of the Earl.

Everything was a blur from that point. Your Orc was taken down, dragged out of sight and returned to you later, one of his eyes swelling and turning purple. When you worried over him, he simply smiled at you, “my job is to protect you, my Lady. After all your kindness if I didn’t I…” Your Orc sucked in a deep breath and sighed. “I’d do it again in a heart beat.” It was in that moment, that the two of you knew you loved each other.

Even if you could not say it out loud, you knew he loved you.

It was in the soft touch of his hand on your back when you were anxious, in the smile he gave you as you told him excitedly about a plot twist in a book you read. How he would hold you as you cried into his chest, another scathing from your husband fresh in your mind, from when your Orc couldn’t be there to protect you.

Today had been the last straw for the both of you. Another screaming match, followed by another strike to the face, you and your Orc made the decision to run.

It was now or never. Your Orc had been trying to talk you into it for weeks. The both of you spoke about it in hushed whispers as you walked through your garden. A common, secret excursion, only afforded by your deep sleeping husband and the darkness of night.

Moonlight shone down upon you both as he told you, in a hushed voice: “He would never dare come for us.” He assured you taking your hand, “we could be free, away from that monster.”

“But my family-” You began to protest.

“They are not your family.” Your Orc glowered at you. “Those people knew what that man was like and they gave you to him anyway. What kind of loving family does that?”

He was right, you knew it he was. You hadn’t heard or seen from them in years, only doing what they had to do to be kept comfortable. Your marriage was just that: A means to keep comfortable.

This realisation, broke your resolve to stay. Given what a horrid day it had been, you couldn’t ignore it any longer, the stinging on your cheek a painful reminder. You had to get out of here.

Sucking in a deep breath and turning to that bright shining moonlight, you sighed. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

A few days passed before everything was ready to go, your Orc had been meticulous in his planning. You, yourself, couldn’t do anything to pack, those who were loyal to the Earl – a select few of the servants, who he bothered to treat with some semblance of decency – would tell on your plans. Questions would rise… You didn’t want to find out what would happen if they were asked.

But if it was your body guard, no one would dare question the Orc sauntering through the halls, clearly on an important mission.

Finally, the day came when you two would set off. You did your best to act like there was nothing amiss, doing your duties with your Orc following behind you. He was more vigilant than usual. Although your husband had gone hunting for the day, whose to say that he would return with nothing, furious with his lack of game and try to take it out on you.

When night fell, the two of you made for the salon. It wasn’t time to go just yet. The sun had coloured the sky orange, the two of you would need the cover of night. As soon as the two of you were out of sight of prying eyes, he cupped your face with his hands and kissed your lips.

“I will go and get the horse ready and collect our supplies,” Your Orc whispered to you. “When the Earl is asleep, you climb out of the window and I’ll be waiting down by the bottom of the tower.”

“What if I slip?”

“Then I will catch you, my Love.” Your Orc smiled.

Letting out a soft chuckle, you rubbed your thumbs over the back of his hand, clutching onto them. “I love you.” You told him.

“I love you too.”

The two of you departed to your respected quarters after that.

You had prepared a special drink for your husband that night. It was nothing dangerous, just a sedative your Orc had managed to get a hold of. Before bed, you offered it to your husband.

“You’ve been stressed recently.” You lied as your husband entered your bedroom. “So I made you some Camomile tea.”

The Earl hmphed. Snatching the tea cup and saucer from your hand, he gulped it down in one go, without saying a word to you. This was how he was when he wasn’t berating you.

You were glad you’d never have to breathe the same air as this man ever again.

Within moments of getting into bed, he was asleep.

And here you were now, descending the tower wall. The drop, coupled with the soft blushes of wind made you question why you couldn’t have just taken the stairs. But the thought of being spotted making an escape made you shudder.

As if sensing your unease, he vine in your left hand quivered, then snapped. You let out a shriek, causing you to lose your grip, your feet slipping. Grasping onto any remaining vines you could, your body soared away from the safety of the tower.

Your Orc caught you within seconds, your shout silenced with a hand clapped to your mouth, mortified by your mistake.

Heart thumping in your chest, you looked up at your Orc Boyfriend. His eyes were fixed on the bedroom window. Neither of you moved, still as statues, waiting for someone to come looking for the source of distress.

The wind blew, trees rustled and leaves billowed in the breeze. But no guard came by, and your husband did not stir.

Sighing with relief, your Orc set you down on the ground and whispered, “you’re not hurt, are you love?”

You shook your head, “sorry.” You breathed.

Your Orc Boyfriend shook his head, smiling, “let’s get out of here, quickly. Last I knew, my clan were headed East.”

Holding his hand, the both of you took off into the forest, never to be subject to the torture of man again.

#monster romance #monster x female #monster x you #orc x reader #monster x human #monster x reader #orc fiction #orc boyfriend #orc romance #monster lover #tw abuse #tw abuse mention

[thepersonnamedsam]

healing the inner child - mv1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: healing max‘s inner child was something you’d do again and again

word count: 1k

warnings: jos verstappen (because he deserves a warning on his own), a bit of angst maybe

note: it was inspired by a post i read earlier here on tumblr and it reminded me of something my therapist once told me; healing the inner child is the greatest way of healing trauma

masterlist / taglist

Max didn’t have a good childhood, Jos ruining the most of it. When you met Max he just won his first championship. You saw him in that nightclub, smiling from ear to ear and glowing like a light bulb. And then there was Jos. He was standing next to Christian Horner, having a heated discussion with him. Christian was seemingly uninterested, rather watching Max having the time of his life. You couldn’t hear what Jos was saying to him, but the fragments you did understand weren’t exactly nice things about his son. If you didn’t know that Jos was Max‘s father, you would think he was his biggest enemy. And that’s exactly what you thought.

You had no idea who Max was at first, you knew he was some big smoke show. But what he actually did, you couldn’t have guessed. You were visiting Abu Dhabi with some of your friends, only just agreeing to the night out, if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met Max. At first, he didn’t notice you, a timid shy young woman, standing at the bar and waiting for a bartender to give you your drink of choice. He walked up to the bar, wanting to order a new bottle of champagne. The bartender immediately noticed him and came to his service. You scoffed, how the hell have you been standing there for nearly 10 minutes and no one asked what you wanted, but he just walks up and everyone runs to serve him?

„Everything alright?“, he was asking you, already drunk and careless. Nobody could do him wrong that night, not even a visible angry and confused lady. „I was just standing there for 10 minutes, or more probably, and couldn’t order anything.“ You rolled your eyes. You were annoyed, annoyed with your friends for taking you to this place and annoyed with him and the busy bartenders.

„What would you like, I‘ll put it on my tab and you‘ll have it in a matter of seconds.“ He only meant it nice but to you it seemed cocky. „No thank you, I’d rather wait 10 minutes more, or better, I‘m just going to leave“, you muttered. „Hold up, I only meant it well. What’s going on?“ Max was visibly confused, blending out all of the other people around him, even the upcoming bartender with the new champagne bottle. „None of your business“, you told him, but Max didn’t let go.

You ended up leaving with him, nothing happened that night, just you two talking. He was sharing things with you he never shared with anybody. Things that included Jos. Feeling bad for Max you gave him the card of your therapist, but he just laughed at you and told you he didn’t need a therapist to help him. You once again rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe what he just told you, everyone needs a therapist, but you couldn’t argue with him.

And one leads to another and you and Max got together. You tried to help Max as much as you could, but Jos didn’t agree with your relationship and always got in your way. It was hard, constantly hearing bad things about you, Max and your relationship with him from Jos. Max noticed your mood change every time Jos was around, so he changed the rules for him. He was only to come to races when you were not around. You didn’t want Max to change anything from you, but you were glad Jos was not attending a race. Not for you but for Max. Max deserved to be surrounded by people who loved and supported him.

You made it a habit to celebrate after every race, no matter what position he placed. You went out for ice cream, waffles, pasta or dumplings, everything he couldn’t have regularly during the season. One time you went out for dumplings, soup dumplings to be specific. Lance knew this great place for dumplings in Montréal. Celebrating his wins were always the best. You smiled and laughed a lot together and on nights like this, where everything was perfect, you didn’t want it to stop.

„Darling, you’re making a mess“, you laughed and looked at your boyfriend. He was trying to eat the dumpling in one go, but the dumpling exploded and the hot soup burnt his mouth, which led to him having soup dripping down his chin. He just smiled at you, ignoring the burning sensation on his face or all the looks he was receiving from the other guests. With you by his side, everything was okay.

„I don’t care, it’s delicious“, he smiled and looked at you. „Do you think we could go to the parc afterwards?“ He was looking at you with hopeful eyes. This was the other ritual you had; playgrounds were there to be played with and if Max felt like playing, you two played. And that’s what you did.

You two sat on the swings, giggling and laughing together. Max was feeling free, free from the pressure and free from anything negative. He was feeling just you and the wind in his face. Everything felt like it was perfect.

And when he won his second championship that year, you didn’t go out to party. Max took you by your hand and pulled you towards the nearest ice cream place, where he ordered himself the biggest sundae they had. You had laughed when he looked at you and asked what you wanted. You thought he was ordering for you two, but turns out, he wanted that ice cream all for himself. You simply took some ice cream in a cone and told Max, you’d eat the rest of his sundae. „I will finish this, believe me“, he told you. He infact did not finish it.

Max was your greatest gift that kept on giving. Healing his trauma was just one way of showing him how much you loved him. He appreciated it and after a while he felt like a little child who had the best childhood. You two had a relationship that wasn’t unusual, helping each other and being there was normal. And Max was definitely glad to have you by his side.

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313

#f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x f!reader #angst with a happy ending #jos verstappen #red bull racing #red bull f1 #childhood trauma

[aphroditelovesu]

Since requests are closing in a few days, I just wanted to put another one in. No rush go get it done of course!

I want to request a oneshot/reaction where Alexander gives reader a really, REALLY expensive necklace. Maybe it's a wedding present, a just because present , or something following the birth of the twins. You can decide what you want to do with that 😁!

Also, I keep picturing a necklace made of opal??? Not only is it a stunning gem stone, but it was also thought to be the tears of Zeus in ancient Greece, which would be an interesting tie to Alexander. Again, it's just a suggestion. You can use whatever gemstone you want!

Thanks, and take care ❤️❤️❤️!

--O-

❝ 📜— lady l: this had been sitting in my drafts for a while and I finally decided to write it. I got a little carried away, so it's a little big, but I hope you like it and if you want to order anything else, feel free, anon! Good reading and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: none, just fluff and very soft!Alexander.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

❝word count: 1,308.

Alexander wanted to find something to give you. Something expensive and extravagant, something that would leave you impressed.

He felt like he owed you that. Not only had you given birth to his children, but you were loved by him and he wanted to please you. He thought of several options: a horse, silk clothes, food and even drink. He still wasn't sure what you might like.

Until he had an idea after talking to Hephaestion. He was the one who gave you the idea of giving you a necklace made from a special and rare gem. And he knew it was the right choice to make.

It was no easy task to get a merchant to have the necklace he liked and deemed worthy of you to wear around your delicate neck, but after the fifth try with a different merchant, he finally knew what your gift should be. He decided to gift you with an opal necklace, a jewel that reflected the beauty and mystery of his passion.

It would change color and he would know that it would look beautiful and graceful on your neck. Everything about you was beautiful and graceful, so the necklace would only stand out on you and no one else.

This opulent piece was adorned with the most dazzling opals that could be found in the entire Empire. Each stone sparkled with vibrant colors, dancing like the aurora borealis reflected in the starry night. The necklace was a unique treasure, a harmony of opalescent hues, displaying hues of celestial blue, emerald green, and royal purple.

The merchant who sold it told him a story about the necklace and it was this story that convinced him to buy it. According to the Persian merchant, legend said that opals were gifts from star spirits, who bestowed their blessings on those who used them with love and wisdom. The necklace was not just a piece of jewelry, but a source of magical power. Its colors and reflections were believed to contain the essence of nature, connecting the wearer to the spiritual realms and bringing fortune and protection.

Whoever owned the opal necklace was seen as a keeper of ancient secrets, an heir to the ancient magic that flowed through the precious stones. It was said that opal possessed the ability to amplify intuition and creativity, allowing the wearer to see beyond the ordinary, opening doors to new possibilities and inspiration.

After this explanation, Alexander knew that this necklace must be yours. Not just because of your story, but because of who you were. From when you really came. No one was more worthy than you.

There was also another version of the story that convinced him to buy it. Knowing how religious Alexander was, the merchant also told him that the opal was made from the tears of Zeus. Long ago, at the beginning of Greek civilization, when the gods walked among mortals, Zeus, the mighty king of the gods, shed tears of joy and sorrow over human fate. These tears, upon touching the earth, transformed into radiant stones known as opals, carrying within them the duality of emotions of the great god.

Thus was born the opal, a legendary gem forged by Zeus' own tears. Each stone was shaped from divine emotions, capturing the essence of heaven and earth. Its unique iridescence reflected not only the colors of the rainbow, but also the contrasting feelings of joy and sadness, hope and despair, harmonized in an eternal dance of light and shadow. Ancient sages believed that the necklace was not just a manifestation of beauty, but rather a link between mortals and the gods. It was said that whoever wore the opal necklace would be enveloped in the protection of Zeus and would have the divine wisdom to navigate life's challenges.

And maybe when little Aella grew up, he could give her a necklace similar to the one he chose for you.

He smiled at the thought and with the necklace inside a small wooden box with gold ornaments, he walked to the room you shared in the Babylonian palace. Straightening his posture, Alexander knocked on the door and after hearing a soft ''come in'', he opened the door and smiled widely when he saw you sitting in a padded chair with Aella in one arm and Cyrus in the other. He fell silent when he realized the twins were asleep.

You looked at him and smiled softly when you saw what he had in his hands. Alexander placed the box on a table next to the bed and approached you, carefully taking Cyrus in his arm. You smiled lovingly when you saw him cuddling the baby in his arms.

Whispering, Alexander says, ''I have something for you.''

You smiled and asked curiously, ''What is it?''

Alexander carefully picked up the box with the arm that wasn't swinging Cyrus and placed him on your lap, looking at you expectantly. You smiled and opened the box with a little difficulty due to the sleeping child in your arms. Your eyes widened when you saw the lush opal necklace. You had never seen such beautiful jewelry.

Alexander, who was watching you like a hawk, smiled at you.

''Alexander, that's…'' You swallowed and took the necklace in your hand, carefully observing its details. The necklace was a magnificent piece, a heavenly masterpiece that captivated the eyes of all who dared to gaze upon it. Every aspect of the necklace was a symphony of intertwined beauty and magic.

The centerpiece of the necklace consisted of a main opal, a generously sized gem that radiated an unparalleled iridescent glow. This central opal was an explosion of celestial color, with soft, shimmering hues that moved like an aurora borealis trapped within the gemstone. Its tones ranged from the deep blue of twilight to the lush green of enchanted forests, and occasional glimpses of the deep red of divine fire.

Around the main opal, a series of smaller opals were skillfully arranged, forming a necklace that seemed to have been woven by the stars' own hand. Each smaller gem had its own color personality, some glowing an ethereal blue, others a crystalline green, and still others with purple and gold hues reminiscent of the sun setting over distant mountains.

The structure of the necklace was as intricate as the reflections of the opals. Delicate strands of gold wove between the gems, creating a sparkling frame that complemented the iridescence of the opals. Small, intricate metal sculptures, decorated with designs that resembled star constellations, adorned the necklace, giving it an aura of ancient magic.

''Do you like it?'' Alexander asked after you remained silent, observing the necklace with a strange expression.

''I loved it.'' You whispered, admiring the necklace. Alexander walked over to you and took the necklace from your hands and placed Cyrus back in your arms, careful not to wake him. He stood behind you and removed your hair from your neck, placing the magnificent necklace around your neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the touch of his calloused fingers on your skin and sighed when the necklace was placed on you.

''I'm glad, it suits you.'' He kissed your neck affectionately and you closed your eyes, smiling.

Alexander leaned closer to your ear and whispered, ''When I heard the story about the opal… I knew it would have to be yours and yours alone.''

You opened your eyes and turned your head, looking at him. ''And what is this story?''

Alexander smiled widely and after kissing your forehead, he began to tell you both stories he had heard from the merchant. You just listened in silence, delighting in his words, with your sleeping children on your arm and the weight of the beautiful necklace around your neck.

Your small, loving family.

#history #yandere history #yandere historical characters #yandere alexander the great #yandere alexander the great x reader #alexander the great x reader #tlq #the lost queen #reaction #imagine #o- anon #yandere imagine #yandere reaction

[multific]

Be Paw-Sitive

Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Inspired by @rilakeila​'s work

Summary: You are an animagus who can turn into a cat. But one morning, you wake up to an unpleasant surprise. 

You were majorly screwed.

How were you supposed to go to classes like this?!

Seem like your private lessons with Professor McGonagall didn't pay off as well as you thought.

Now, here you were stuck with a pair of ears and a tail!

You must have tried to turn in your sleep and somehow got halfway stuck. That wouldn't be the issue. The issue was that no matter what you tried, you couldn't make them go away.

And your first class was with Snape... great. 

No student knew about your abilities. Some professors knew but that's all.

You wanted to call in sick, pretending you were ill, but you also knew no one would believe you.

One last attempt you turned fully into a feline before turning back but the ears and tail were still there. You knew you had to go to class. You knew you couldn't reveal your secret.

You let out a sigh before grabbing your robe to hide your tail and a hat for your head. You thanked the winter at least it will be passable on the hallways, maybe not inside the class but you will deal with that later...

"Miss Y/L/N... I thought you were aware that it is rude to wear a hat inside my class." 

Of course, Snape couldn't just let it pass, but you were a great actress.

"Of course, Professor, I got ill last night and I am shivering as it is, if you could allow me please to keep it on, I learned so much for today's test, I didn't want to miss it." Snape gave you a look but let it pass. Just this once.

After class when everyone left, you stayed behind.

"Professor, I do apologise for the hat."

"You are not sick." his voice was so monotone.

"No. I woke up this morning and..." you took off your hat and showed him your ears. "And I also have a tail..." 

"I'll talk with Minerva. See if she can help, for now go to your next class." you smiled and turned to leave.

You always liked Snape. There was something about him, something behind his eyes, he was hiding his kindness and you saw that.

Your day went on quite well, pretending to be sick so you could keep your hat on. Professor McGonagall unfortunately, had no idea how to change you back, she said she will read some books and get back to you as soon as possible.

Later that day, you sat defeated in a hallway. It was rather quiet since no one really used that hallway.

You let out a long sigh before trying to return to your book.

"Here you are. I have been looking for you." came a voice and as you looked up, you saw Mattheo walking over to you. "Here." he handed you a small brown bag and you looked at him confused. "Take it, it's not going to explode!" Mattheo and you barely spoke before. He was a friend of yours, you would say. 

You took the bag and opened it, only to find medicine in there.

"The lady at the store said these are the best for a cold." he explained as you looked back up at him. "You said during many classes today that you feel ill."

Was he worried about you?

"Thank you!" you yelled after him as he walked away. He raised one of his hands to wave goodbye. 

You felt your heart swell.

You might have just developed a crush on Mattheo Riddle...

---

Two days later and you had the same issue. 

The professors had no idea how to help you and every possibility you tried out failed.

Dumbledor decided to officially give you an exemption from classes for the time being. He respected your decision that you didn't want to share your secret with the students. 

Everyone was told that you were sick.

You truly didn't like lying to others, especially your friends, but you were also not ready to share that you are an animagus.

There was a sudden knock on your door.

"O-One moment!" you yelled, getting into bed and covering your head with your hoodie. "Come in!"

It was Mattheo, the last person you expected. 

"Hi." he said as he closed the door behind himself. 

"Hello."

"How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm a little better thank you." you smiled as he looked around your room.

He noticed the books scattered around the place. Everything looked and smelled like you.

"What's this?" he said as he walked over to your table, finding the bag he gave you days ago. "Y-You didn't take the meds I gave you?"

"Um..." but you saw him rolling his eyes.

"Are you serious? I thought you were different from the others! You could have told me, I know I am the Dark Lord's son! But I am not like him!"

"What?" you asked, confused.

"For fucks sake! You didn't take these because you hate me just like the others right?!" he yelled before running towards the door but you were also fast. You grabbed his arm and turned him towards you. He was angry.

"I-that's not why. I don't hate you." you said but he rolled his eyes. 

"You don't even look sick. Did you lie to the teachers?!" he asked as he looked at your face. 

The hatred in his eyes made you scared. Scared that you will lose him.

"I didn't." 

"What is going on here?"

"I can't tell you and please stop yelling."

"I yell if I want to Y/N! You made me worry for you that you were sick! I got you medicine and now two days later I find out that you didn't even take them! Is this because I'm a Riddle?! Why did you lie?!"

"I didn't... I can't tell you."

"Can't tell me?! Y/N, I thought you were better than that. I thought you could see beyond a last name, not like the others. Looks I was wrong." he moved to get to the door but you stood in his way, leaning against the door, not letting him out. "Move out of my way." but you shook your head, no. "MOVE!" he yelled louder than before and it really irritated your ears. You covered your face as you slid down against the door, tears running down your face.

"I don't hate you, please don't hate me." is what you said but he yelled again, this time it was your name. And just like that, you were gone.

Mattheo's eyes nearly fell out of his head as he now saw a cat where you were previously. The cat ran under the bed and Mattheo stood there, frozen. 

His brain tried to function but he just couldn't move or think.

Took him a good minute before he knelt down on the floor and looked under the bed. 

"Come out please." he said with such a soft voice, it even surprised him. He tried to reach under the bed but you moved away, out of his reach. "Come on, Y/N." but you didn't budge. He let out a sigh. "I don't hate you. I really don't. I was just angry, I'm sorry for yelling. I really like you, Y/N. So, my mind went into a spiral when I thought you hated me, but I get it now, please come out." but you didn't move. 

Mattheo moved to sit on the bed, deciding to give you time and space.

You moved from under the bed. Getting out and looking at him as he kept on staring at the wall. You didn't turn back, deciding to stay as a feline for now. 

You jumped up on the bed and this is when he noticed you. You sat with your tail moving around you, you were thinking as well.

"I didn't know you were an animagus. I guess no one else knows." you shook your head, no. "Do the professors know?" you nodded, yes. "Ah, makes sense. You are a really cute cat you know. You look very fluffy and... sorry." He tried to reach over possibly to pet you but stopped. Still sitting on the bed, you took a deep breath before turning back.

"Please don't tell the others. They would tease and bully me." you begged as you moved closer to him. "I didn't go to classes because I can't make my tail and ears disappear," you said pointing at your head. "I'm sorry for lying. I never expected you to buy me medicine." he nodded.

"I won't tell anyone."

"I really like you too, Mattheo. I felt really bad for lying, but you understand why I couldn't tell you." he nodded before he looked at you, smiling a little.

"Your eyes are also... um... cat-like?" you let out a long sigh.

"Professor McGonagall said it is normal for a young animagus to have certain characteristics like that. Eyes are normal but ears and tail... not so much."

"I think it's cute." he reached up, touching the ears on top of your head. "Would you purr if I scratched here?"

"No, I bite."

"You are not a nice kitty then." he smirked and you smiled.

"I don't plan on being one." you played along with him and it made him smile. "I am a very bad kitty especially when someone who isn't my boyfriend touches me."

"Oh, you have a boyfriend now?"

"I do."

"Lucky fella."

"Yeah, he brings me medicine when I'm sick but he is rather bothered by his last name."

"I'm not! People are." you smiled as you moved even closer to him, and he moved his arm around you. "I'll try and get you some notes from classes." his hand ran up and down your back, it found your tail as he flinched away a little but you moved it back to his hand. 

"Next time, please don't yell at me. I hate it when people argue and my hearing is sensitive."

"Sorry, Darling." a comfortable silence filled the room. "I'm glad you are not sick at least. I was rather worried."

"I still have a tail and ears..."

"They are at least cute." you looked at him before moving your head to his neck. 

"You are cute." you said as you yawned a little. 

"So... should I leave before your boyfriend comes back?"

"He is a big scary Slytherin so... you might want to." you smiled as you moved back to sit.

"As soon as your ears have disappeared, I will take you on a date."

"We don't have to wait! I can wear my hat!" you smiled as he watched your eyes shine. He gave you a nod before you jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom. 

"Kitten, take it slow please, I still have a class."

"Oh... will you skip?"

"I mean it is... of course I will." you smiled and resumed brushing your hair. 

You were really excited about this new chapter in your life. 

A boyfriend who accepts you and didn't judge you for being an animagus.

Part 2 SMUT

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  

~Masterlist~

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[taintandviolent]

Star of the Show - Jimmy Darling x Reader

warnings: dub-con, drug usage, unprotected sex, orgy, smut (female and male receiving), reader x multiple partners (Amazon Eve and Jimmy Darling). a/n: 3k words! basically, this is uh - y'know. inspired by the orgy scene in Freakshow. this is... shamelessly also me dipping my toes into an Amazon Eve x reader fic because big tall lady make the brain go brrrrrr. that's all I can say about myself here okay? shh. also this was written after a very long bout of writer's block and exhaustion, so i'm rusty and clunky. apologies.

full fic & taglist under cut!↓ / ao3 link here! /

Warm sun filtered in through the canvas, warming your exposed limbs. Lids peeling apart, your first visual was red and white stripes, and the second visual was your own body. You’d woken up in nothing but a satin robe that didn’t belong to you. Still muzzy from sleep and whatever else you’d done, you stumbled around to find your dress and thankfully, it had been thoughtfully draped over a nearby bench. You replaced it with the robe, and made your way outside, pushing the flaps of the tent aside.

You weren’t sure how it started, or what was said specifically to cause your lapse in morals. Normally, you’d never do something like that. Honest. In fact, you were always such a good girl that if you ran home and told your friends what you thought you’d done, none of them would believe you. Not you, they’d titter. You can’t even tell a fella that you think he’s cute!

Last night, once the crowds had cleared the field, leaving nothing but crumpled tickets and popcorn bags, you remember wandering into the main tent. They were all there, the freaks. You remembered the way they’d looked at you, all of them smiling dangerously at you as you stood in your pretty mint-green sundress. For whatever reason, you’d been persuaded to take one, maybe two, maybe three, hits of whatever the nice German lady had offered to you - and that’s where it all went wrong. Or perhaps where it all went right. You didn’t remember much else after that.

Shading your eyes from the sun, you peered out into the fairgrounds. They were empty, save for the smaller tents and caravans that encircled the main big-top tent. Dabbing at your forehead with the back of your hand, you trudged through the high grasses. An eerie feeling settled over your shoulders, sending a chill down your spine despite the heat.

What had happened last night? You racked your brain. Tent full of people… German lady… that guy. The handsome guy with the … oh. Jimmy. His name was Jimmy.  

As you rounded the corner, recalling the most you had since you’d stumbled out into the morning, coincidentally, he was there. Across the field, The Lobster Boy bent down to hoist a heavy-looking bag over his shoulder before straightening back up. He caught your gaze with a grin and winked. The boyish charm he presented skilfully extracted a carnal reaction from your body. Suddenly, you remembered a whole lot more.

Last night…

As someone undressed you, carefully, you stared up at the massive inside of the tent. It seemed to go on forever. You had been looking at - no, gazing dreamily at the world through a sheer, white curtain, like the ones your mother hung up during the summer time; the ones that fluttered in the hot breeze and seemed to make the air that filtered through smell sweeter. Everyone was moving slower than they should have, and you leaned your head back on the curve of the chair, inhaling a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

It felt like there were a dozen hands on you, petting you, skimming the ticklish flesh of your inner thighs and the crooks of your arms. Some of them were cold, some of them were clammy, and some of them felt like they didn’t belong to humans. Everyone was murmuring and someone called you an angel. You threw your head in the direction of the sound, hoping you smiled. Another person caressed your cheek, cupping it tenderly. You hmm’ed in adoration, trying desperately to discern figures. You’d never felt so venerated in your life; everyone was obsessed with you. The star of the show. 

One figure that you could recognise, solely because of the height of them was Eve. Amazon Eve. The tallest woman you’d ever seen, and possibly the most beautiful. She, who you had immediately taken a liking to during the show, was now caressing your bare chest. The delicately explorative way that she handled your breasts, rolling your nipples in her thumb and index finger made you whimper in delight, squirming helplessly on the chair. She pressed a few delicate kisses along your jawline before pulling away to look at you, letting her hands ghost over your exposed flesh. She softly trailed her fingers along your ribs and your sides, fluttered over your hips and neared your centre before sweeping back up along your stomach. Your lids drifted shut, revelling in the sensation.

“Little pretty thing,” she said, very close to your ear. Your brows lifted high on your forehead, pathetically trying to pull your eyelids open again. Eventually, the seal broke and you looked around, focusing gradually.

She was above you with one knee on the chaise, towering like a building. A building that smelled like cherries and flowers. Behind her, blurred dots of string lights, framing her like a picture. She had a pretty face and a warm hand that stroked the side of your cheek. She leaned down, pressing her lips against yours. You melted, wrapping your arms around her soft neck to bring yourself closer, and deeper into her mouth. You’d never really thought of kissing a woman, but the warm, honeyed way that she tasted had you craning your neck to follow her as she straightened up, wanting more.

Eve leaned down, kissing you again. Her large, soft hands dipped in between your legs, and as soon as she felt the slippery warmth that met her fingertips, she looked off to someone. For a fiery moment, her middle finger encircled your clit, sending shivering waves through your body. But too quickly, the moment ended, and her hands gripped your wrists, fingers overlapping as she pulled them from her neck.

“My friend Jimmy is gonna’ take care of you now. Okay, sweetheart?” As she moved off the chair, she brought your hands down to your sides where you flattened them against the textured velvet. You babbled, protesting her leaving, but she shushed you with a single finger, assuring you that she’d be right there. You didn’t want her to – a thought that tantalized you. She was so gentle, but so commanding in her motions. 

At the sound of a belt buckle clanking, your head lolled sleepily to the side, lids heavy. Jimmy? Jiiiiiiimmmy…. you tried to remember who Jimmy was, but your mind was far too busy sounding out the name syllable by syllable, repeating it over and over again like a mantra to even conjure up any mental pictures. Thankfully, standing behind her was an attractive man with thick fingers. Long fingers. But something looked off.

You lifted your head off the chair and blinked heavily, giving him a woozy, half lidded look. His caramel locks were separated with sweat, a few stray strands hanging in front of his brow. You blinked again, clearing your vision. Open pants hung at his hips. Fused fingers wrapped around the base of a thick, red-tipped cock, hand pumping it slowly to keep it hard. Though, as soon as he saw you, naked and sprawled out on one of Elsa’s luxurious chaise lounges, with your legs falling open slightly to expose your cunt, he had little issue with that. 

C’mere, doll face.

He closed in the distance between you two, letting his erection guide him like a compass to what it wanted most. Another man and Jimmy exchanged some words that you couldn’t understand. Frustrated by the lack of attention, you reached out for him sloppily, like a sleepy child. Your hand slapped the air until it found the warm fabric of his cotton undershirt.

“F-feels…. mmmff…”

He chuckled at your avidity, glancing down at you. “Alright, baby, alright…”

You looked dreamily up at him, wanting him to fall on top of you and shower you in kisses. He had the darkest eyes you’d ever seen. The darkest eyes. Like two cups of black coffee, warm and inviting.

Jimmy’s thumb found its way into your mouth, pulling your bottom jaw down to make room for his cock. With peaked brows, you mewled dreamily, wrapping your lips around his single digit and sucking hard. His skin was salty, the sweat of the day settling in the creases of his hands.

“Ohh, god damn - you’re so eager…. Suck on this instead, huh?”

Again, he used this thumb to manipulate your jaw, tugging on it. You opened it further, your tongue lolling out hungrily. The corners of your mouth were pulled upwards; you felt so good, so light and breezy. He was so handsome and you’d do whatever he wanted you to.

You blinked, watching as his cock neared closer. You’d never given a man a blowjob before. For a brief moment, your eyes were wide, pupils dilating in concern, but as soon as the head of Jimmy’s cock was hot against your tongue and warm, salty pearls of pre-cum oozing from the tip, glistening and catching the reflections of the string lights from above, you eased into the action. Your mouth stayed open, as Jimmy was the one guiding his dick inside, knowing full well you didn’t have the strength to do it yourself.

Your lids drifted shut. For a second, he felt bad. You were real out of it, but before he had a chance to dwell on it, a wanton haze consumed him as your pretty lips closed around the blisteringly hot tip, your precious flushed cheeks caving in. Inside, your tongue caressed the slit, lapping up the pre-cum like it was ice cream. You hummed around his cock as he began pumping it in and out. You may have been out of it, but boy were you going at his cock. Your tongue flattened against the thick vein on the underside of his cock, rubbing at it.

He groaned low in his throat, caressing the underside of your jaw, all the while resisting the urge to bring his hand to the back of your head and guide his cock deeper into your mouth. He was weak with arousal. In truth, he was almost embarrassed at how badly he wanted to lose it in your pink, waiting mouth.

“Baby, baby….” Jimmy’s head lolled back on his shoulders, his lids fluttering helplessly as you sucked. You mewled again, the vibrations sending a shockwave through his cock. He bucked his hips in and out of your mouth, focusing hard on the way that your plush, soft lips popped over the head every time he pulled back.

“Take her, Jimmy,” someone said. It was a male’s voice, low and gruff, a slight accent to it.

Though you didn’t know who the voice belonged to, Jimmy hurriedly obeyed it. Whether or not he wanted to stop, the reality was that you had him wound up too tight; he was ready to bust and needed to quickly change positions before the inevitable happened. Sucking in a deep breath, he withdrew his cock from your mouth. Long, sticky strands of saliva and cum strung from your lips, dribbling onto your chin. Moving quickly, Jimmy took hold of his cock and crawled onto the chaise, on top of you, looking fixedly down at your form. You hadn’t quite recovered from the position change, and needed a little help; he let go of his cock, gently pressing his fingers into your cheek, and pulling it to face him. You blinked a few times, before smiling brightly.

“ H-hii …..” You breathed, woozy. “Hi Jimmy…” You were very proud of the fact that his name came out normal. In your current state, it felt like an arduous task. “Hi Jimmy,” you said again, delighted. You laughed girlishly, and Jimmy felt a pulsing heat in his groin. He hadn’t heard a sound as sweet as that in years.

“Hey, baby…” He smiled crookedly at you. Warm and soft like honey. “You want this?”

You knew what he was asking. Your weighted gaze dropped between your bodies. The feverish, scarlet tip of his cock was leaking beads of pre-cum onto your bare tummy, bobbing heavily up and down with each breath he took. You felt your pupils dilate again, hungrily, craving the monster in front of you. You knew what it tasted like, you now wanted to feel it ripping you in two. You gave him an excited nod. The inside of your brain felt like it was jostled around by the action, so you huffed out a steadying breath.

Excited by your consent, Jimmy wasted no time and reached down. The pads of his fingers found your slick entrance, toying with it slightly to spread the slippery, clear fluid around your cunt. He slipped one of his pincers inside, bringing a gasp from your throat. “You like that?” 

You nodded again, much slower this time and reached for his bicep. Once you found it, you gripped it tightly, readying yourself for the oncoming storm. He lined his dick up and brought his eyes back to you.

“Look at me, baby.”

You did. He grinned.

Watching you, he stuffed himself inside, swallowing dryly. His eyes danced over your face, picking up all the subtle, lustful little changes; your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, your brows peaked together in an expression of slight discomfort, your lips parted with a delicate whimper as your slick walls swallowed him whole. This pulled a throaty groan from Jimmy. It was such a display, and for a moment, he wondered if you’d ever been with a man. How obedient and pliable you were underneath him… was that pillowy soft virginity or just the drugs kickin’ in?

Thinking was hard and instinct took over again, wiping all thoughts from his mind, save for the way you felt. You were warm and tight, clenching around his shaft. He jerked his hips up into you, protruding veins massaging your walls. Your attention dropped between you two again, eyes glazed over as his thick cock disappeared inside you, bottoming out each time.

Jimmy, on the other hand, had moved to focus on the way your tits bounced with the power of his thrusts. The visual drove him crazy. Made him hungrier. Craving your taste, Jimmy’s mouth was suddenly on yours, sloppy and hurried. His greedy tongue felt around every inch of your mouth and slipped wetly along your tongue. You did your best to keep up, tasting him all the same, but he was taking the lead. You inhaled a big breath through your nose and moaned into his mouth.

There was a cacophony of pleasure around you, coming from every direction. Wet sounds and hushed moans, peppered with lewd mutterings. Somewhere in your mind, you knew what you were a part of, what you’d stumbled into. Had you been more coherent, it might’ve embarrassed you, but the deep, carnal sounds that Jimmy was making were the only ones that mattered. Suddenly, you furrowed your brows, frowning into the kiss; someone was incessantly petting your hair and grumbling excitedly behind you. You tried to wave them away, but when you lifted your hand above your head, Jimmy reached for you, pinning your hand there.

“Mmmhh…” Breathless, Jimmy pulled away to look at you again, breath rushing out from between kiss-swollen lips. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

His hands dropped to your hips, pulling you harshly onto his cock. You winced, but pressed your legs open further, hungry for the sensation. Eve came from behind Jimmy, pausing to run her hand through his caramel coloured hair, gripping it tightly briefly before letting go. Jimmy moaned above you, and before you could protest someone took hold of your hands at the wrists, holding them firmly above your head. With a little whimper, you tried to wrestle around from them, but failed. Eve’s sweet voice came from behind the chaise then, praises drifting down atop of you. Your head rolled upwards to the sound of the woman’s voice, again trying to find it. You couldn’t, and it didn’t seem like Jimmy wanted you to. His conjoined fingers were on your face again, gently pulling you back to face him.

“Eyes on me, baby… right here… that’s it. Atta’ girl.”

You blinked a few times, refocusing on his face. His tanned skin had a blush to it now, covered in sweat. He humped you furiously, his dick slipping in and out of your weeping cunt, rocking your body back and forth. You were close, there was an unmistakable tightening in your abdomen. Jimmy seemed to know this. More than knowing it, he could feel it; the way your tight little cunt quivered, clenching tighter and tighter around him. “C’mon baby, lemme’ hear that voice of yours…”

You opened your mouth, letting the whining moans free. 

“Good girl,” Eve cooed above you. “Such a good girl…” 

 As you continued meeting Jimmy’s thrusts with moans, he picked up his pace, hands snaking around the back of your body to take greedy, punishing fistfuls of your ass. His hands were so big and seemed to envelop you entirely, kneading your soft curves like dough. He came with a low grunt, gripped you hard and pulled himself into you as he climaxed. Jimmy coated your insides like the glaze on funnel cake, and you got to feeling even woozier than before. The feeling was too much, and pushed you over the slick edge. You let out a shrill cry, pulsing around him, fighting against Eve’s grip, who held you fast. There were sounds all around you as you came, excited murmurs and whispers. As your orgasm ebbed and Jimmy softened inside of you, finally, your hands were freed, and they found Jimmy’s florid, sweaty neck, pulling your forehead to his chest.

You remembered the way his chest heaved laboriously above you with each breath, shaky with expelled lust.

You blinked, your jaw hanging slack. He was still standing there, looking at you with that syrupy flirt in his eyes. You were suddenly dizzy with need. The ache between your thighs was no longer inexplicable, and your heart thudded in your chest.

“Hey!” Jimmy called across the field, one hand extended in a friendly wave. “We oughta’ do that again sometime, baby!”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz/ @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur

#fuck it here it is #Jimmy Darling #Jimmy Darling x reader #Jimmy Darling x you #ahs smut #AHS Freakshow #American horror story #Amazon Eve #Amazon Eve x reader #myfics

[outsideratheart]

Meet Me At Henman Hill (Leah Williamson x reader)

A/N: I know I late posting this but hey better late than never right? I really enjoyed writing this one so I hope you like it too.

Leah was scrolling through her phone as she worked through her second rehab appointment of the day. Her attention was fully on the screen in front of her as the physio applied pressure to her slowly but surely healing ACL when she was handed an envelope. She tossed it aside assuming that it was something from the club but then she saw the Wimbledon stamp in the top left corner.  

Miss Williamson,

You have been invited to sit in the royal box at this years ladies final as a guest of Y/N Y/L/N. Please see inside four tickets and details of what you can expect from the day. 

We look forward to seeing you at Wimbledon. 

She couldn’t believe you kept your word. After winning the euros Leah literally bumped into you in the hallways at Wembley. You told her congratulations and said seen as though she and England  won you would invite her to see you win Wimbledon next year. That day she understood what the movies talked about when they say you feel a spark when you meet someone special. It was a feeling that Leah yearned to feel again. Little did she know you felt the same thing.

Leah truly did think you were joking and given that you haven’t seen or spoken to each other since then she certainly didn’t expect to be given tickets never mind be in the royal box. 

“What’s this?” Beth snatched the envelope out of Leah’s hand and then proceeded to read to note out loud “so who are you taking?”

“Beth would you like to come with me?” Leah asked even though the answer is obvious. 

“Me? Oh I’ll have to check my— yeah I’m free” Beth jokingly checks her phone’s calendar.

“Viv?” Leah asks the Dutch forward.

“I would love too”

Leah then texts Kim to see if she would like to the join the three of them to which she happily accepts.

A few days later on Saturday 15th July, Leah along with her team mates find themselves walking the grounds of Wimbledon. She could feel the history that the grounds held. Knowing this was the final filled her with excitement but she was going to see you play live which makes the feeling double. She had watched every match you had played in the last 2 weeks.

When she took her seat in the royal box she couldn’t help but feel a little bit out of place. Even after the year she has had she still feels like that little girl from Milton Keynes. The front row sat the Princess of Wales and Princess Charlotte with Billie Jean King sitting behind them. She knew from your interviews how much of an inspiration the Tennis legend was.

The crowd erupted when you enter the court along side Iga Swiatek. The latter currently held the number one spot with you number two. Not only was the championship on the line but the world number one ranking was too. She could have sworn that you looked up at her as you warm up but she tosses the thought aside and tells herself that you were looking at your idol.

The first set couldn’t have gone worse for you as you lose the set 6-1. It seemed nothing you did was working and you couldn’t help but feel like you were failing everyone in the area. You had your team, you idol and then there was Leah, the woman you had a huge crush on, in the crowd. What she must be thinking as you throw the game away.

You don’t let it get to you though as you come out fighting at the beginning of the second set. You remember why you are in the final in the first place; to win. You give it everything you have and it pays off because you win the set 6-3. 

The final would go to a deciding set, one which you would go onto win but that didn’t mean Leah wasn’t stressed out from the first serve to the final point. She spent the entire set leant forwards, elbows resting on her knees and biting her finger nails. Her eyes well up with tears as she watches you fall to your knees when you score the match winning point. 

You were in a state of shock for a least a minute. You had won Wimbledon. It had been a dream since you first watched the tournament as a child and now you had done it. The team that had been by your side on this journey were the first people you wanted to celebrate with so you run up to them as soon as you could. Then once back on the court you looked up at Billie and bowed your head to her and that is when you see the arsenal girls but Leah stood out to you. You send her a quick wink before being whisked away to collect the Venus Rosewater Dish and take photos with whoever you were told to.

Leah was just about to leave the box when a Wimbledon official made their way over to her.

“Are you Miss Williamson?” 

“I am” Leah shares a look with her friends before answering.

“You have been invited to celebrate Y/N Y/L/N’s win at The Polo Bar here at Wimbledon” 

The official goes on to explain where they will find the bar and explain that they can get food and complimentary drinks there.

“Let me get this straight. First she invites you to watch her play and now she wants you to celebrate the greatest moment of her career with her” Kim says.

“We. She invited all of us” Leah tried to play off the invite. She knows the tickets were addressed to her and then the official came to her but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of this. Perhaps you were just being nice.

The four of them found their way to The Polo Bar which they learned was Ralph Lauren’s Polo Bar.  Leah started to believe Kim’s insinuation as there wasn’t many strangers in the bar. There were former and current tennis players, a few celebrities who Leah knew were your friends and then they were some people she didn’t recognise but she put them under the sponsors category.

It is almost two and a half hours after the match ended that you walk through the doors. You had swapped your Nike tennis dress for a pair of trousers, a t-shirt, cardigan and a pair of air force ones that look fresh out of the box, these were all white of course.

“Thank you so much for coming” You approach their table as soon as possible “I hope you enjoyed the match”

“Are you kidding me” Beth is quick to answer “That was incredible. I wasn’t sure if you’d win after losing the first set but you didn’t give up. It was incredible” the blonde repeats herself to make sure you heard her.

“It was tough but in this sport you can never give up especially not that early on in the game. Did you have a good time?” You look down to Leah who was sitting directly in front of where you were standing.

You could have got lost in her eyes.

“I was on the edge of my seat”

“I saw”

That was the confirmation Leah needed. You had indeed been looking at her from the other side of the court. Much to your disliking you were called away by your manager but you knew this would happen if you were to become the first British woman to win Wimbledon in the open area. It seemed that everyone wanted to talk to you.

Still as you shake hands with men in suits and woman who you can tell don’t really care for the interaction, you keep an eye of the English captain. She was having a good time with her friends which is what you wanted yet you cannot help but be jealous because you wanted to spend time with her.

Your friends knew that you had a crush on the blonde so they help you evade the introductions to people who you know you have no interest in keeping in touch with. 

Leah, unbeknownst to you, scans the room from time to time in search of you. So imagine her disappointment when you cannot be seen. Part of her knew thought this would happen. You wouldn’t want to celebrate with a room full of strangers, herself included. You were just being nice when you invited her here.

“Are you Leah?” 

“I am” she turns around to see Aryna Sabelenka standing beside her. As a tennis fan she feels a little bit starstruck but she also knows that she is one of your closet friends she tries to act cool.

“Y/N wanted me to give you this”

Leah opens a note, this time it was handwritten by who she assumes is you.

Meet me at Henman hill

Butterflies flood her stomach. 

“What does it say?” Viv asks.

“She wants me to meet her on the hill” 

“What are you still doing here! Go!” Beth is full of encouragement.

Leah leaves The Polo Bar and follows the signs for the infamous hill. As she turns the corner she finds you sitting on a bench waiting for her.

“Do you always communicate through notes?” Leah asks as she takes a seat by your side.

You shift your weight so you can face her with you arms resting behind her.

“No but I couldn’t escape and ask you to come with me so I enlisted some help. Drink?”

A smile tugs at Leah’s lips when she sees the souvenir plastic cup filled with the drink that is famously associated with the tournament.

“Why am I here?” It was a question Leah had asked herself countless times since receiving the invite.

“Because I like you even though I don’t know you”

“You just wanted to have the lionesses here for optics” Leah didn’t believe you.

“If that was true then I wouldn’t have invite you to my celebration and I would have given you general seating tickets but I didn’t. I gave you Royal box seats because everyone knows that winner of the tournament walks passed the exit near the royal box when they go to the balcony yet when I walked by I only saw the royal family”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me” Leah was oblivious to the point you were trying to make.

“I wanted to see you so they failed in comparison” 

Leah chokes on her sip of Pimms.

“But I’m just me. I’m just Leah”

“And I’m just Y/N”

“You just won Wimbledon”

“And you won the euros” you place your cup on the floor so that you can place a strand of hair behind her ear, it was the perfect excuse to get closer to her “Leah, I’m going to be very forward because right now I feel untouchable and I don’t know how long it will last. I think you’re beautiful, you intrigue me and I have been waiting almost a year for this exact moment”

Was it the euphoria of winning or the Pimms in your system that made you feel like you could fly, you couldn’t know for sure but the look in Leah’s eyes let you know she was feeling something similar.

“I have a present for winning today. Close your eyes” Leah was fully committed to what she was about to do.

“I’m not really one for surprises” 

“You’ll like this one. Close your eyes”

This time you do as you’re told. You wasn’t sure what to expect but it definitely wasn’t Leah’s soft lips against your own. The kiss was soft, gentle and didn’t last no where near as long as you wanted. When Leah pulls away you lean forward for more but a hand on your chest stops you.

“No, that’s for winning a grand slam” Leah knows she has you in the palm of her hand and she loves it. 

“This is my fourth grand slam meaning you owe me three more kisses” you pouted for a few second whilst gauging Leah’s reaction. When a smirk forms you know you have her permission to cash in. You remove Leah’s hand from your chest but keep ahold of it. The kiss is deeper this time and hold more passion than the first one. 

“Do you always do this after you win? Kiss a stranger?” 

You know Leah is joking but if there is even a slight possible they her question hold truth you feel the need to reassure her.

“You kissed me first but no I don’t” 

She could tell by your tone and the way you held eye contact that you was in fact telling the truth.

You kept looking at the clock next to the two large screens. You could only buy 40 minutes before you had to return to the bar and it took Leah a little bit longer to join you than you’d hoped but you think that could have something to do with the messenger of the note. Still, you only had ten minutes left alone with her.

This moment has been planned for the past 24 hours and you still had one last part to carry out.

“I have a surprise for you but it won’t be as good as yours” you led Leah down the hill and to one of the kiosks. As planned the door had been left open and you were able to get your treat from the fridge. 

Pimms wasn’t the only thing associated with Wimbledon; strawberries and cream were also a fan favourite.

“For you” you hold out a box containing the sweet treat.

At this point Leah realised this wasn’t some spare of the moment idea, you had this entire thing planned out.

“You knew I’d say yes to meeting you?” Leah asked before taking a bite of her first strawberry. For some reason it was sweeter than any other she had eaten before.

“No. My back up option was to sit on that hill, alone, take in the day and eat two boxes of strawberries and cream but I much prefer this” 

“Where are we going?” The blonde asks.

“Back to the bar”

“But it’s that way” Leah could point to the terrace of the bar. You were heading in the opposite direction.

“No, it’s this way”

“Y/N I can see the bar, it’s right there”

“Leah I wouldn’t direct you at the emirates would I?”

“Y/N” Leah persisted, she wanted to know what you were planning next.

“Fine, we are going the long way because as soon as I enter that room I will be whisked away and you will go back to your friends. I want to make this moment last. Consider this way the scenic route”

Within seconds you and Leah are walking in sync, each footstep hitting the pavement at the same time. She hangs on every word you say as you explain the history of the grounds. The passion your voice holds warms her heart. You move on to tell her stories how you used to come here as a child but never went inside the court because you preferred to sit on the hill. Leah learnt that you inviting her to Henman hill held more sentimental meaning that she realised.

When you got closer to the entrance of the bar your pace altered, every step took twice the time. Inside things were hectic and everyone wanted a piece of you but with Leah things were calm and easy. These are the thoughts that run through your mind as you open to door only to find that Leah isn’t behind you.

“I’m not ready to go in yet” her pout is adorable.

“I don’t have a choice. I was given 40 minutes and it’s been” you look down at your watch “41 minutes. We’ve had an extra 60 seconds”

“I want to see you again. Are you free tomorrow?” Leah asks.

“I’m not” 

“Oh right, yeah” Leah dips her head and tries to play it off but you don’t buy it.

“I will be here the whole day for media and what not then on the night there is a dinner to celebrate the tournament” you walk towards Leah and use your index finger to make her look you in the eyes “I’m free on Monday. I know a place not to far from here. How about I pick you up at 11?”

“You don’t know where I live. How will you pick me up?”

“I guess I’ll need to give you my number so that you can next me your address” you hand her your phone and she enters her number but before she gives you it back she texts herself so you have your number too.

You both walk down the hallway together and she watches as you save her contact.

Blondie 

“How original. Does that mean I get to give you a code name?” Once again Leah stops as she taps her chin methodically before typing. She proudly shows your her phone once she is done.

Ace

“Really?”

“What? It seems fitting. You won the game on one today and I happen to think you’re ace”

She was proud of the name and secretly you loved it too. 

The bar is empty when you enter. You look at Leah who shrugs her shoulders; she was just as confused as you were. You are about to ask a waiter where everyone is when you hear voices from the terrace. The only people left are your team, a couple of your friends and the Arsenal girls. They are all sat around a huge table. Your manager is the first person you look at and she simply smiles. She knew how much you wanted to celebrate tonight with those closest to you so after meeting the important people she organised for all media, meet & greets and whatever else to be scheduled for tomorrow. 

With your hand on the small of Leah’s back you guide her to a space that happened to be in the middle of her friends and yours. Something that you would later find out wasn’t a coincidence.

The night isn’t wild but it was just what you wanted. You recapped the match that you would remember for the rest of your life, Leah introduced you properly to her friends and to top it off Leah kissed you goodnight before going home. 

Who knew it took you winning Wimbledon to ask the pretty girl out.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #engwnt x reader #engwnt one shot #engwnt imagine #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc one shot

[anika-ann]

Ocaruj me (Bewitch Me) - S.R.

Type: medieval/fantasy/fairy tale AU; drabbl-ish; a part of this pseudo-medieval-fantasy AU

Pairing: knight Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 2k

Summary: Knight Steven Rogers is a man with love. That love is you. His beautiful lady who bewitched his soul even without the supernatural powers you possess. He'll follow you anywhere.

It that means bathing in a lake in a moonlight, so be it.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, unprotected sex (shocking in medieval times huh), bit of angst, fluff, knight Steve ‘cause he’s a warning, Slovak language ‘cause I can

A/N: Actual title is Očaruj mě (Bewitch Me) ...tumblr cannot handle a "č" and an “ě“ in their title 🙃 DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; inspired by THIS ask (you can find headcanons and a playlist there)

A/N 2: Chronologically fits before the events of Pomiluj mě, but if you read this first, you will spoil some of the reveals.

Magic is a dark evil thing; that is what all knights of the kingdom are reminded during their studies and training.

Magic is the wicked twine that curls around your wrist when you reach out a hand, grips you tight and drags you towards perdition.

Magic takes face of a twisted beauty, a temptress, and leads you down the path of sin with a smile worth of the Devil himself.

Magic only knows curses and wrongs.

Sir Steven Rogers knows these axioms by heart.

Steve knows they are horseshit; or at least fail to fulfil the basic rule of an axiom, which is supposed to be universality.

In Steve’s eyes, people are corrupted by many things, amongst which there is the power that comes with magic. That much is true. But the nature of magic itself is pure; t reveals the person wielding it and amplifies who they already are.

Steve would only agree with part of the axiom second to last, assured whenever he sees you. He would now too, standing near the bank of a lake, still fully clothed, his gaze inevitably drawn to the enticing image in front of him.

You, standing to the waist in the water, dressed in but the luxurious robe of moonlight caressing your skin and wearing the lake like the richest skirt; your hair cascading down freely like an elaborate veil, the commonly dark ink of your tattoo reaching from the side of your neck down your shoulder shinning bright.

When you glance over your shoulder, eyes glimmering more entrancingly than the moon and the stars combined, lips curling in a smile, the last thing Steve would compare you to would be the Devil, a dark evil thing.

The truth, however, is that if you did decide to drag him towards his end, he would follow voluntarily, heart pounding just as hard as it is now, with warmth in his chest and searing heat in is gut.  

When you speak his name, a sweet ‘rytier moj’, you indeed are every bit of a temptress, the seductress steering him toward the most beautiful of sins; but not in the name of evil.

In the name of love.

“How is it that you are not cold, bosorka moja? And by gods, remind me, love, why is it that I should follow?” he asks with a grin on his lips, as if he does not feel every ounce of his body being pulled to you by the alluring image of you alone, by the promise of the feel of your skin under his fingertips, of the taste of your lips, of your wickedly delicate hands touching him in ways no unwed lovers should.

You have told him there was a deeper meaning in bathing in that particular lake on this very night, but as fascinated as he always is by your faiths and magic, you have been convincing him with your lips whispering to his own, causing his memory to be considerably less reliable, his mind much more pliant.

You turn around to face him fully, your watery skirt swirling; Steve’s mouth turns dry at the sight of your stiff nipples and plump breasts, his last reservations dispersing as his pants become uncomfortably tight.

“For this lake is believed to possess supernatural properties, rytier moj. For I know it does,” you remind him gently, your gaze trailing down his body in appreciation as he sheds his cloak, his tunic and pants.

You once told him what you saw when he did and have aided him in recalling it quite frequently.

Beauty.

Strength.

Goodness.

Safety.

Home.

And desires personified.

Steve is only a man; all these are virtues in his mind, privileges, and the one that is not makes him preen all the more.

Dark eyes glimmering in the moonlight, your smile earns a teasing edge even as your words begin with gravity.

“Bathing in the light of the full moon nearest to the summer solstice makes one stronger. Something my knight might appreciate. I know I for sure would, since he insists on recklessly risking his life.”

His own lips curl up, heart humming with tenderness; he is cared for. He is worried about. He is loved. He is not the only one who has the comfort of a lover on their mind. Perhaps it is for ‘lovers’ is not quite the word fit for where his heart quivers in the matter of you and him. Not the only word.

Desire personified.

Gorgeous temptress.

But also beloved.

Láska moja.

Bosorka moja.

Home.

“All knights do, bosorka moja,” he says as he steps into the water, the liquid welcoming him with an unexpected sensation of cold and warmth combined.

Where his skin meets the water, immersed deeper with each tentative step on the invisible rocky floor, he is enveloped with an unfamiliar sensation, the warmth seeping into his skin almost violently, leaving gentle tingling in its wake.

His lungs expand. His heart thunders. His muscles ache until they feel as light as a feather. His large bones seem to harden, his joints feel stronger but pliant. His blood pumps vigorously, forcing a shuddering breath out of his chest.

Well, he’ll be damned; he would be if he wasn’t so blessed. He would never doubt you again. Not that he ever truly did.

You watch him, a hypnotic and hypnotizing gaze, soaked in the satisfaction and desire having thickened your tenderness. Your skin almost glows and Steve understands that his eyes were not deceiving him earlier. He is not the only one absorbing power; yours might be different in nature from his, so different and ethereal, a true force of nature, but a power nevertheless. And as you soaked in the water, your immense power grew further.

“And yet, I have not seen any knight, soldier or mercenary, nor the clumsiest commoner with as many scars, nor I saved them from so many,” you oppose him, still playful; yet, your voice has earned a husky quality Steve is drawn to like a mot to a flame, his steps growing confident.

For almost every step he takes, you take one back, away from him, sinking deeper, hiding your tempting body from his hungry sight. A delightful feigned chase begins, one of which you both know will only end in bodies intertwined. A dance Steve knows, for he has felt its thrill before, for he has danced with you before; he has danced lips to lips, hands to hips, hips to hips, lips attached to your mound with hooded eyes too, senses enveloped with heady primal need, laced with love both corporal and intangible.

It all hums within him, pounds with force bolstered by the magic surrounding him. You feel it too; he reads as much in your features.

“You haven’t seen them naked either,” he notes, a slight smile remaining.

The conversation continues even as it fades.

You hum with a smile of your own, stopping at last as takes three long strides and catches up with you, gazing up at him with a sweet challenge he cannot refuse. “That is true, rytier moj.”

But that is not what your body whispers, already miles ahead when only inches from him.

Touch me, it coaxes him instead.

Hold me.

Love me.

Have me.

Fill me.

Make me sing for you. Only for you.

Do as you crave; I crave the same, just as much.

Who is he to deny a lady? Who is he to deny you, especially when the wordless pleas entice him, please him, echo his own?

The slight prickle of strength reborn, one unknown to ordinary men, still heats his very core, his lips speaking on their own even as his fingers wander with purpose, over the skin of your waist, down your hip, over your belly button, to your sternum, over the swell of your breast, stepping closer to feel your hardened peaks brush against his chest, eliciting a breathy sound of his name amongst his questions.

“What of other blessed nights bathing in this lake? Equinoxes as well?”

Your hands move with purpose too; mapping the constellations of freckles and moles on his body, caressing the planes of strengthened muscle with teasing lightness. Your touch is surprisingly warm, Steve realizes distantly, his head and hands full of you; if he did not know better, if he did not know you were a witch, he would think you an entirely different magical species.   

As you nod and explain, your hand rises above water, stroking over his shoulder – the water follows seemingly effortlessly, swirling and curling around your palm; even as you speak, he shudders under the touch where your hands could not have possibly reached him, not at so many places at once; and yet, every single of these caresses are just as warm, loving and teasing as those of your own fingers.

With how you bended the water to your will, Steve would have thought you were born to do so. He would have thought he found himself a water nymph instead. His breathtaking, enchantingly playful water nymph.

“Bathing in the lake on a new moon nearing the spring equinox breeds rebirth, ridding of all old aches, body and heart,” you explain quietly, intimately, as your fingers tease along the dip along his hips, his own hands grasping your soft flesh with urgency growing. “First new moon after the autumn equinox calls upon the forest spirits, their protection, bringing the wiseness of our ancestors with their blessings.”

Steve’s head is full of you; your words, almost fairy-tale like, but spoken with reverence of a person who knows them true, whose rituals has called upon the forces of nature and has been rewarded for it, blessed by them.

His hands are full of you too and as his heart sings.

The rest of his body vibrates with need, impatient fingers slipping lower, towards your core, teasing alongside your slit. Even as he asks the only natural question, his focus is elsewhere, fingertip dipping into your welcoming heat, his lips whispering against yours, your hips eagerly meeting his touch.

“And what of winter solstice, bosorka moja? Tell me,” he coaxes, revelling in your playful touch turning into a grip on his hip instead, other hand wrapping around his own to urge him to sink his finger deeper, for another to join.

Who is he to deny you again? His bewitching water nymph, whose heat would envelop him just as welcomingly as the water of the lake and fill him with just as much exceptional powerful sensation...

Love her.

Take her.

Protect her.

Make her mine.

“It keeps your heart warm,” you sigh, mouth chasing after his, fingertips finally brushing over his hardness, curling around the length and squeezing and twisting enough for his strained muscles to melt, rushing to lift your leg to wrap around his waist, opening you up for him, your taste, your scent, your husky voice like the most tempting trap he rushes into with vigour and pride. “Keeps your love safe. On the full moon close--- oh Steve— closest to the solstice- preserving it even through the— the harshest of winters----Steven!

The steady movements of his fingers stutter at the needy pulsing grip around them, eliciting another and another, his thumb brushing over your clit, mouth slanting over yours to swallow your cries of ecstasy, cradling your head to his as your hips keep rocking into his hand. You’ll feel like heaven, like you always do, but the burst inside him at feeling your pleasure coaxed by him is almost, almost enough.

“I’ll be here,” he promises against your lips, kissing you again, tipping your head back, your body so gorgeously pliant to his greedy touch. “I will be here, with you, every quarter a year. Every month, every day, love.”

“Ľubim ťa,” you gasp and Steve makes another promise, to not meet you here, but bring you. Bring you from your shared home at last, because even by the damn equinox, he will have done you right, a ring on your finger, his everything made yours, as you deserve.

“Ľubim ťa, bosorka moja,” he whispers back, a chuckle escaping him when his eyes flutter open, offered a sight of soft sprinkles and curls of water rising above the surface and glimmering in the moonlight.

Your magic exploding outside of you as pleasure fills your veins.

Steve is certain it will never cease to amaze him; or spur him to coax something even more fascinating when chasing his own peak and yours together, even as that alone is a gift he cherishes.

Your hands slide to his shoulders for leverage as his fingers leave you empty, moving to your bottom to lift you up, sliding in almost effortlessly.    

No words are needed then. As you connect your bodies and souls alike, the water keeps dancing.

You glow behind Steve’s hooded eyes, tattoo shining as bright as your affection, beauty and goodness, a reminder that no, magic could not be further from the darkness in corporal form. In every waking moment, he would swear he has never seen, nor heard, nor felt anything more beautiful and lighter than you, even with a face and voice of a temptress you embody.

The only sin you have led him to, the only speckle of shame on his honour, is the one he will remedy soon and has nothing do with your magical nature.

No, not the Devil; a goddess in your own right.

And you have not cursed him, no. Sir Steven Rogers, tvoj rytier, entirely bewitched, feels blessed.

Other headcanon and playlist

S.R. masterlist - contains other knight!Steve fics, independent of this universe

Complete masterlist

Terms of endearment from Slovak language: Rytier moj (My knight) Bosorka moja (Witch mine) Láska moja (Love mine) Ľubim ťa (I love you)

I hope you enjoyed, loves 💕 Please consider leaving feedback/reblog/anything if you did 🥰

May April be kind to you 🌼✨

#steve rogers x reader #knight steve rogers #knight steve rogers x you #knight steve rogers imagine #knight steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america au #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #medeival au #fantasy au #fairy tale au #ocaruj me #bewitch me #pomiluj me #love me tender #anika ann

[danikamariewrites]

Babysitters

Azriel x f!Reader

A/n: this is inspired by the babysitters ep of Bluey (yes it’s a kid show so what)

Warnings: none

Knocking on the front door of the River House you let yourself in, “Hi Feyre!” Nyx comes bounding towards you from the living room, “Y/n!” He screeches, clinging to your dress skirt. You kneel down, eye level with the little 5 year old bouncing on his feet.

Feyre comes into the entryway, “Y/n! Thank you so much for watching him tonight, it truly means a lot to Rhys and I.” You get up and hug your friend. “It’s not a problem. I love seeing this little guy.” Feyre leads you into the sitting room with Nyx holding your hand, where Rhys is sitting on the floor surrounded by Nyx’s toys.

Rhys stands to greet you, “Y/n, lovely to see you. What brings you over this evening?” He says giving you a feline smirk. Feyre gives him a look like she can’t believe he’s even asking that. You laugh, “I’m babysitting while you and Feyre go to Viviane and Kallias’ for dinner, silly.” At that moment the front door opens and closes, Azriel comes into the sitting room. He stops short seeing you, “Sorry I’m late, Cassian would not let me leave. I swear he’s a toddler.”

“Uncle Az!” Nyx runs over to the shadowsinger jumping into his arms. “Hey buddy.” Az says, clutching the boy to his chest. Feyre looks at Rhys, she knows her mate is up to something. “Sorry darling, did I not tell you Az could watch Nyx?” “No my love, I don’t believe you mentioned it.” He chuckles.

Nyx wriggles out of Az’s arms grabbing one of his scarred hands in his little one. He drags the male over to you as the little boy grabs your hand with his free one. “Mommy, daddy can both uncle Az and y/n watch me tonight? Please?” He drags out the last word looking up at his parents with big, pleading eyes.

Before Feyre can say anything Rhys answers, “Of course, that is if they don’t mind staying.” You look at Azriel. He looks hopeful that you’ll say yes. You and the spymaster have an odd relationship. You met him a little over a year ago at Feyre’s art studio. You work at one of the art supply stores in the Rainbow that Feyre happened to come into one day to pick up some extra paints. The High Lady told you all about her studio and offered you a teaching position if you were interested.

During your first class with Feyre, Azriel had stopped by and he ended up introducing himself. You were quite taken with his soft demeanor given his reputation. Not to mention his beauty. After bumping into from time to time and quick conversations you found that Azriel is a kind male. He always gave you his undivided attention when you spoke and you loved when he told you his thrilling stories from his years of spying.

You had quickly found yourself falling for him and had tried to keep your crush for Azriel to yourself. But keeping it to yourself was unsuccessful, one night after a few glasses of wine Feyre got it out of you.

You broke eye contact with Azriel to look down at Nyx who was looking between the two of you, hopeful you’ll both stay with him. “I’ll absolutely stay.” Relief flashes in Azriel’s face. “Perfect! Nyx, be good for your uncle and y/n.” Feyre hugs all three of you goodbye, quickly being ushered out by Rhys. The couple winnow away, leaving the three of you alone.

Nyx runs back to his toys, plopping down on the floor. “Can we play a game?”

…

A few games and a dessert definitely not meant for a 5 year old before bed, it was the little boy's bedtime. You and Az were sitting at the end of Nyx’s bed tucking him in. “Good night Nyx, sleep tight.” You say kissing his head. You and Azriel go to leave when Nyx suddenly sits up. “Wait.” You turn to look at him, “will you both tell me a bedtime story?”

“What do you say, think we can come up with a good one?” Az asks, you chuckle following Az back to Nyx’s bed. Sitting down next to Azriel you let him take the lead. He’s always been a great storyteller and you were excited to hear the tale he would tell his nephew. Azriel clears his throat as Nyx lays back down cuddling with his teddy bear.

“Once upon a time there was a girl who-“ “Princess” Nyx interjects, throwing off the story Azriel had set up. “What?” The boy rolls his eyes, “Mommy and daddy always tell me a story about a princess and a prince that save each other and it’s my favorite. Can you tell me something like that?” Azriel takes his time thinking about how to change his story. “Ok I got it. Once upon a time there was a princess who ruled over a beautiful kingdom. The sun was always shining, the people happy and cheerful, and occasionally a rainbow would appear after a storm. Showing the kingdom that even when things are dark and gloomy there’s always beauty hiding behind it.”

You smile, you didn’t know the spymaster had quite the imagination. Azriel continues, “On one of these rare days the princess was out for a walk. Shopping and watching her people enjoy the beautiful day. Before she could walk into her favorite candy shop she bumped into a dark, mysterious stranger.” Nyx gasped, clinging onto every word Azriel was saying.

“She was bright and bubbly, the complete opposite of the stranger. She apologized to him but he didn’t know what to say so he just nodded and stepped out of her way. She continued on into the shop like any other day. Not knowing she had changed the mysterious man’s life. After walking around town some more and bumping into the stranger several more times the princess wanted to know more about him. After running into each other again that afternoon the princess invited the man to join her for lunch. He was going to say no but something in his heart said he should. Talking during lunch the man revealed he was the prince from the neighboring kingdom, sent by his father to meet with the princess to start an alliance.

“Once they were back at the castle the prince and princess were inseparable. They would spend their days in the library, riding horses, and seeking out adventure. As the days went on she realized the prince had changed. He became happier and more open with the princess. On the prince’s last day of his visit he thanked the princess. She asked him why do you need to thank me. He said he was thankful she spent time with him and became his friend. Not many people would be because of the darkness that surrounded him.

“She couldn’t believe that the prince had no friends. She was happy she had a new friend too. When the prince went to leave the next day-“ you tapped Azriel’s arm, cutting him off. He looked at you and you pointed to Nyx, who was fast asleep. You both silently crept out of the room, gently closing Nyx’s door.

Once you are back in the living room you sit next to Azriel on the couch. He seems like he’s shying away from you. You clear your throat, breaking the awkward silence between you. “That was a cute story.” Azriel’s cheeks heat up as he tries to not make eye contact with you. “Thanks.”

You were done with awkwardness and avoiding each other. Moving closer to Azriel you grasp his hand, “It actually sounded like us, was it?” His head snapped toward you, his eyes going wide. You panicked, did you overstep? Did he not feel the same way about you?

It seemed that Azriel was also done with whatever awkward energy was between you. He cupped your face in his large, calloused hands and kissed you. It was exactly how you hoped it would be. His lips were soft and gentle, and you loved the way he held you. He pulled back, resting his head against your forehead. “Ever since the day I met I’ve been crazy about you. Getting to talk to you was always the highlight of my day. I don’t know why I’ve waited this long to say anything but I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

The biggest smile spread across your face as you nodded, “I’d love to go out with you Az.”

…

Hours later Rhys and Feyre winnowed back into the foyer of the River House. Feyre giggling and poking at Rhys’ face. “You are positively tipsy Feyre darling.” Rhys chuckled. “What can I say, the Winter Court wine is delicious. We need to get some for the house.”

“We can but the challenge will be keeping it out of Cassian’s hands.” The couple strolls into the living room, stopping at the sight before them. “Aawww Rhys look at them.”

At some point while talking, you and Az had fallen asleep on the couch. You looked so peaceful wrapped up in Azriel’s arms. And Azriel looked so happy having you laying on his chest. Feyre walked over to the couch draping a blanket of you. She was definitely going to get all the details out of you tomorrow.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar #acotar imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fluff #rhysand #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #azriel x reader

[readingcoco]

Mood board credit: @rivetingrosie4

So after months of reading everyone else's work, I finally got round to finishing this one shot inspired by the wonderful @rivetingrosie4! It's the first thing I have ever written so any critique will be highly cherished. This is hopefully a good practice run for a longer story I will be working on for the rest of the year.

Taglist: @photo1030, @rivetingrosie4, @redwritr

🍑PEACH FLESH🍑

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI | 5067 words | Ao3 Link TAGS: Plus-Size Reader, Oral Sex, Fake Marriage, Internalised Fatphobia, Squirting

The door almost swings off its hinges as you and Arthur stumble into the second-best suite Strawberry’s Welcome Centre has to offer. Despite being a dry town, you were both half cut and giddy from the two bottles of brandy shared over dinner with the newlyweds you hoped to rob blind first thing in the morning. 

The room is womb-like, lit dimly with low wooden ceilings and dark red baroque wallpaper lining each wall, in the centre stands a grand four poster bed adorned with more blankets than you know what to do with, set diagonally facing a little wood burner that radiates out heat that stings slightly against your mountain chilled cheeks. You haven’t been around such finery in years, the excess of it all feeling somehow grotesque when compared to the simple pleasures you’d now learnt to love. 

“My Lady”, Arthur bows as he raises his arm, gesturing to the empty room. 

“Husband”, you giggle, door closing behind you. The ridiculousness of that word still not losing its novelty. 

“I’ll be sure to let Hosea know we’ve got a regular little con artist on our hands.”

Your body is vibrating with energy, the thrill of the past few hours still coursing through your veins; how you’ll sleep tonight, you don’t know, even with the promise of such a comfy mattress to lay your head on. You’d been terrified of letting everyone down ever since Dutch had summoned you to his tent to inform you of the job he had lined up for Arthur and the role he expected you to play. You were sure there must have been some mistake, but when he explained that your upbringing made you the ideal candidate, you couldn’t see a way to protest. So now you were here, just you and Arthur, and things were surprisingly going to plan for a change. 

“I can’t believe how naive they were. Was I really so soft when you first met me?”

“A little”, Arthur smirks as he sits on the oak trunk at the edge of the bed, pulling roughly at the puff tie around his neck, eager to free himself of the restrictions of such formality. You had been shocked at how naturally he found getting into character after spending half the ride there grumbling about it. “Suits you, though, a bit of softness. Glad we ain’t fully sullied that good name of yours just yet.” 

You bristle a little at the mention of your name, all the good it had done you when you’d drifted from town to town, relying on the goodwill of others to keep you from starving. Your name hadn’t saved you then, but the Van der Linde gang had. It was them to whom you owed a debt, not your family. 

“We best get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You nod as Arthur moves to hang his dress coat in the wardrobe, and you catch sight of him over your shoulder in the large cheval mirror that stands to the side of the bed. He looks different somehow, here away from camp, more at ease maybe, less burdened by thoughts. This was the longest you and he had spent one-on-one, and you had found it surprising how quickly you had both fallen into an easy rhythm. You had always got on well in camp. You shared a closeness with him more akin to one of the girls than any of the other men; he’d bring you fresh peaches whenever he could, knowing them to be your favourite, and you would craft tonics and bitters for him to take on his travels. A trade between friends. Truth be told, if it wasn’t so implausible, you might have wanted to take advantage of the sleeping arrangement that now presented itself - Karen or Mary-Beth wouldn’t have given it a second thought! But as it was, that was a delusion, and Arthur had already courteously agreed to sleep on the floor.

Your reflection distracts you then as you compare the neat up and down of his form to your own inelegant roundness in the mirror. What was the word Grimshaw had used? Fleshy? And more on display this evening than you had ever elected to show to the gang.

When Trelawny had taken you to the dressmakers, your eyes had almost bugged out of your head when you saw the mannequin donning the dress he had selected for you. An off-the-shoulder, deep emerald gown with a swan-like bust made from velvet. Quite possibly the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. You begged Trelawny to allow you to wear something, anything else. But he would hear nothing of it. To con an heiress, you would have to look like one. The ridiculousness of that notion forces a snort of laughter to escape your mouth. Arthur turns to you, lips preemptively curling upwards, expecting you to share your private joke. 

“Somethin' tickle you?”

“Nothing, it’s silly.” 

But his face doesn’t let up. You hesitate, trying to find a way to make him understand without sounding foolish. 

“It’s just, I didn’t expect any of this to actually work. I went along with it because… because I wanted to be useful. I didn’t actually think anyone would believe that we were married.” You laugh, but Arthur looks confused. 

“Why not?”

You giggle, gesturing back and forth between you like it’s the plainest thing in the world, but he still stares at you blankly. 

“Don’t play dumb, Arthur! Look at me, and then look at you!” 

“I’m lookin'.”

Your smile falters a little, realising that he is going to make you state the obvious, that unspoken truth that you have been biting your tongue not to scream out loud since Dutch revealed the con two weeks previous. 

“Arthur, please…” Your voice is quieter now, traces of humour all but evaporated. “There ain’t no way a man like you would ever take someone like me as a wife. It’s just not the way of things.” Your eyes are now firmly rooted to the ground. Shame coursing through your body for putting such a dour end to a fun evening. Wishing desperately to go back to the teasing and lightness of moments before. “You're deserving of a fine woman, not a stout, plain thing like me.”  

Arthur rears back on his heels as though slapped.

“Ought not to speak about yourself that way or judge whose hand is or isn’t deserving of mine, calloused and scarred up as it is.” 

You laugh quietly at that and lift your head back up at him, where he hooks you in with a look so serious it catches you off guard, brows knitted together like he is weighing up some great debate. He sniffs-

“You looked beautiful tonight, Mrs Callahan.”

He steps towards you slowly, as one might approach a spooked horse, head tilted and low, looking up at you with sparkling pools of tranquil blue. You feel the overwhelming urge to bolt, but something about the assured look he has on you keeps you tethered to the spot, unable to move as the space between you grows smaller. 

“Don’t tease me, it ain’t kind.”

“I’ve not been able to take my eyes off my pretty wife all evening.” 

You search his face for some small hint of insincerity, half expecting him to rear back at any moment and mock you for not seeing his obvious joke. But he doesn’t pull back. Unyielding in his approach until he is close enough for you to feel the heat of his breath on your crown. The smell of brandy and tobacco smoke wafts deliciously in the air. You hesitate to look up, not sure you could withstand the heat of his gaze without melting into the rug. 

“You know, I’ve not seen you wear anything like this before,” Arthur gently raises a hand up to your exposed shoulder and fingers some of the lace appliques around the rim, his chapped knuckles lightly grazing your skin. Your eyes close, and a faint sigh escapes your lips as you lean into his touch. “Caught myself thinkin’ about how much more of your loveliness you’ve been hidin' away.”

You are still unable to lift your eyes higher than the buttons on his shirt. But then he’s tracing a line up your throat, resting his thumb on your chin and gently manoeuvring your face to meet his. To be invited to view him up so close and personal this way is a delight you want to savour. The white lines around his eyes from squinting in the sun, the crook in his nose, badly set, smattered with freckles, the chip on his frontmost tooth, the face of a man who has only known hard work and fresh air. But the exchange of looks goes both ways and suddenly, you are reminded of the indolent, dumpy girl he must view. 

“Arthur-” 

His lips press into yours so keenly that your overthinking brain only has room for the sweet sensation of his insistent kiss, opening you up to him, coaxing you deliberately with his brandy, rich tongue. A needy whimper is spilled from your mouth into his, which he drinks from you, like a man parched, tasting your lips and then deeper, lapping you up. Your shaky hands find purchase on the plains of his broad chest, and you fist at his shirt to pull him closer. 

As though that were the signal he was waiting for, Arthur grunts out a low groan before dipping his head to kiss at your neck and cushioned collar bone, hands running along the stiff shape of your corset, reaching around your sides, your back, searching blindly for some hidden opening. You have never seen him this feral. 

You pull backwards, struggling to catch your breath, lips swollen, hair all but falling down. 

“Wait,” You gasp. “You’re drunk, you don’t really want-”

“Woman, if you don’t stop tellin' me what I do and do not want.” He laughs, but there is a seriousness that underpins his tone. “Now, if you don’t want it, that’s different.” He lifts an eyebrow in question. 

“It’s not that. I just… I don’t want to disappoint you.” He offers you a look that could almost read as exasperated if it wasn’t so filled with fondness. Your chest is pounding, you're not sure that you have ever wanted something, someone, so much in your entire life. Your eyes dart around the ornate room and land on the glowing gas lamp behind Arthur’s head. “Maybe if it were dark?”

He laughs dismissively. “You’re still not gettin' it,” He pulls his hand down his face before interlocking your fingers in his as though trying to work out how to explain something simple to a small child. “You think I would be here kissin' on you, actin' a fool, if I weren’t attracted to you?”

You don’t know how to answer him, so you remain silent. Chewing a loose strip of skin on your lip.

“You think I ain’t noticed you're bigger than most?” Your cheeks burn red at the acknowledgement of your body, something you have taken great pains to draw attention away from for as long as you can remember - modest clothing, intricate hairstyles, humour and helpfulness. His thumbs rub soothingly on the pulse point of your wrists. 

“Ever considered that might be something I might like?” In truth, you hadn’t because how could it be? You had never seen images of women who looked like you in catalogues or advertisements unless it was to market some magical cure for the ailment of looking like you, never read about them in books unless they were some wicked aunt or old crone. How could Arthur be attracted to such a thing?

“Turn around.” 

A command given so soberly that you find yourself spinning without thought. He pulls your back flush to him as he scoops the fallen tendrils away from your left ear, lips pressing into newly revealed skin. Your eyes find each other in the mirror as he trails a path of wet kisses down your neck to the tip of your shoulder. Unfolding you in his arms as if to show you off to the two figures staring back longingly, enjoying their own embrace. 

“You see?” He traces the length of your arms with his rough fingers, ghostlike as they make their way down the curve of your arms, one wrapping tightly around your waist while the other seeks out your breast. He finds you heavy and full in his palm, and your bodies roll together in a languid moan released in unison. 

You observe Arthur’s eyebrow hitch momentarily in the mirror, and his eyes darken as you feel a tug from your side and realise too late that he has found the opening of your dress. He wastes no time unhooking each clasp one by one, your breath coming in heavy as you watch him work, peeling the right side of your wrapped bodice away from your corset, the swell of your breast revealed, covered only by the thin cotton of your chemise. 

You lift your hand to help with the clasps on the other side, but Arthur nudges you away as though this is his solemn duty to bear alone. He reaches around to your left-hand side until you are fully enveloped in his arms, and you can feel his heart pumping in his chest. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head falls back to meet his firm shoulder as you feel yourself going weak at the knees, like it has been the rigidity of your clothing holding you together this entire time; one more loosened clasp, and you are liable to break. 

“I want you to see what your body does to me”, Arthur rasps out as he unwraps the left half of your bodice, leaving your chest fully bared, apart from your underthings. You watch as his fingers delicately trace their way up your corset, and he takes each of your full breasts in hand, rolling your beaded nipples with his thumbs. The sensation courses through your veins as your arms shoot behind you, grasping blindly in an attempt to ground yourself for fear you will float away. One hand meets his left hip, while the other finds the tight muscle of his thigh before something more protruding grazes the pads of your fingers. Arthur lets out an involuntary grunt as he bucks into you. 

You run your fingers along his length more deliberately then, and the fire it ignites in him is enough to rival the sun. Eyes still locked firmly onto yours in the mirror, he pulls your bodice from your arms with two rough jerks before throwing it to the side to begin work on your skirts. 

“Face me.” 

You turn, as he pulls you into a deep kiss, fingers hooking behind you to undo the ties at your waist. His hands glide down your back, over your ass and hips, skinning the fabric away from you until it bunches up and falls to the ground. Catching his breath, he steps back, panting, taking in the curves of your now semi-exposed form. You have never been looked at this way, hungrily, like your ripened flesh is the only thing that could save this starving man. 

“Goddamnit”, He hisses, more to himself than you and backs away from you further.

Without the solid touch of him to reassure you that the last few minutes haven’t been some momentary lapse in sanity, a wave of self-consciousness pulls you outside your body like some sort of uninvited voyeur, looking down at the scene, struck by the implausibility of it all. Here is this man - Adonis, even, who could have his pick of women, not just in camp but in polite society too; you had seen how the newlywed wife had looked at him over dinner, and then you, dimpled and misshapen like a bruised peach.   

Sensing the sudden shift in your demeanour, Arthur quickly steps back to you, resting his forehead on yours, blue eyes burning intensely, cupping your cheeks with both hands.

“You still don’t believe I want ya?”

You stare back at him, his lips so close you must hold back the urge to nip at them. 

“I’m sorry” you whisper. Softly, Arthur removes a hand from your cheek and finds your own covering the curve of your stomach. He hooks his fingers into yours and guides your hand lower down to the hard line of his trousers.

“My whole body’s achin’ for ya, Darlin'.” His arousal is undeniable now, and for a moment, you start to believe that he could be true to his word. Perhaps certain tastes are only acquired by a few. Your thumb reflexively works up and down the solid ridge of him as he presses his lips to yours and lets out a groan.

“Now-” He’s struggling to maintain his focus as your fingers continue to stroke him. “I’m going to sit down right here, and you are going to show me what I’ve been wantin' to see.” He huffs out and pulls himself back from you again and sits at the edge of the bed, eyeing you eagerly in anticipation. 

For a moment, you stand there, tethered to the spot, brain failing to remember the motions one must go through to undress, as though this was something entirely new and not the most ordinary of tasks. 

You close your eyes and breathe deeply to gather yourself before loosening the ties of your petticoats and allowing them to fall to the floor like the heavy skirt before it. A rumble of approval from the bed forces your eyes to open. When you are met with a look so full of adulation, it’s hard to stop the grin from spreading across your entire face. You step over the crumpled petticoats with a little skip before marching to the bed and lifting your heeled foot to rest between Arthurs's legs.

“Care to do me the honour?”

“My pleasure.”

Arthur takes your stockinged ankle in his large hands, pressing a flurry of kisses to your knee as he peels the silk down your leg before unbuttoning the pointed-heeled boot and tossing them aside. As you lift your other leg up to him, he hooks your knee and carves his hands upwards underneath your bloomers, fisting a handful of the meat of your inner thigh. 

“Patience,” you say, fully enthralled by this new sense of power you feel in your core like you could tell this man to walk through hot coals, and he would thank you for the privilege. You flick the point of your shoe towards him to undo.

Heels removed, you step backwards again, fingers tracing the shape of your body slowly, tantalisingly, noting how each swirl of your thumb, each flick of your wrist registers like a shockwave on the gunslinger’s slack-jawed face. You press your clothed breasts together, lifting them experimentally and letting them fall. And then once again. Arthur lets out a hiss. 

“Woman, you don’t know what I have planned for you.”

Your fingers ghost the eyelets of your corset, the moment you have been dreading. The barrier moulding your shape into something deemed acceptable by society. You feel without it, you may fall apart. But if his face isn’t goddamn begging you to take it off. Who are you to disappoint him?

You pull the top clasps together, and then the bottom and your lungs fill with air as your body relaxes in kind. You stand there in only your chemise and bloomers, near transparent, backlit by the light from the fire. You hitch your chemise to your waist, inch by inch, as Arthur leans forward, almost salivating. Your fingertips slide under the waistband of your bloomers as you shimmy them down to your ankles with a wiggle, exposing the thatch of hair at your sex for a split second before your chemise falls back into place. 

A thought comes to you then, and you're not sure if it’s in part to delay the inevitable shame of baring yourself to this man so completely or if part of you is starting to have fun, but you realise the power you hold stood before him in nothing more than your chemise. What would he give up to see your exposed flesh? What trade might he offer now? A peach for something saltier perhaps? You toy with the frill at your hem.

“Planned? You sound like you’ve been dreamin' on this for a while, Arthur.”

You step towards him again so that your scantily covered breasts are now at eye level. He reaches out to touch you, but you shoo him away. 

“You ‘been having indecent thoughts?”

“The worst”

You cock your head to the side in mock outrage. The giddiness of dinner, playing dress up, and make-believe comes flooding back with full force.

“What thoughts?”

“Takin' you in my tent… spreadin' you out… all pretty for me.” He can barely get his words out as your finger lifts the corner of your chemise. 

“You ever done anything about those thoughts, cowboy?” 

The rush of crimson to his cheeks surprises you as you imagine him alone in his cot with only daydreams of you to keep him company. You have so many other questions: When did this start? Why has he only chosen to act now? But they will have to wait. You glance down at his lap.

“Show me.” 

Like an eager puppy, he springs from his seat, towering over you, but you don't step back. Arthur’s disrobing is a much more efficient affair; suspenders are shrugged from his shoulders, shirt unfastened, trousers kicked haphazardly across the room until he is in a comparable state of undress, left in only his union suit. If you’re not mistaken, a similar wave of trepidation pumps through his veins, too. You eye the proud ridge of his length, straining the stretched cotton as Arthur unbuttons his union, first revealing the coarse blonde hair at his chest, which darkens with each new release, lower and lower. At the juncture of his groin, thick brown curls frame the base of his shaft, and as he steps out of the suit, cock springing free, filling the space between you, you're not sure you have seen beauty like it.

“Show me.” Your voice is a whisper now. Arthur takes himself fully in hand and slowly strokes himself while holding your gaze. You watch him intently: artful and precise like every other task his expert hands carry out. You almost lose yourself watching him before you remember your own throbbing need and push him back to his seat on the bed. You are ready now. Confident. 

You raise your chemise up your strong thighs, the curve of your hips, swell of your belly, higher still to meet your heavy breasts that fall as the fabric catches them momentarily; you pull the cotton above your head, over your plump arms, until you are stood naked as the day you were born, goosebumps adorning your skin, like velvet. They prickle as you smooth your hands across your belly, as though touching it for the first time. Maybe you are touching it for the first time with gentle hands? You smile at this private realisation and then towards the cowboy, who is near cross-eyed with want, stroking himself vigorously at the sight of your unveiled form. 

“Am I what you expected?”

“Git over here already. I’m tired of just lookin'.”

Before you can protest that you don’t want to crush him, Arthur is pulling you onto his lap, the ripe head of him grazing your clit and pressing between your stomachs. You try to hold some of your weight from him by awkwardly balancing yourself where your shins meet the mattress, but then he’s grabbing two firm handfuls of your ass and lifting you up with him. Reflexively, your legs wrap around his waist as you are suspended in the air. It feels like flying. You have not been picked up like this, cradled, since you were a child, and even then, by the time you turned 7, your papa had started to groan that you were too big. But Arthur lifts you effortlessly, kissing into your mouth as he spins you round and lays you out on your back, his body curving over yours. 

His knuckles tenderly graze the shape of your cushioned ribs, rising and falling in time with his own. He slowly lowers himself down your body, taking care to kiss an open-mouthed trail down the centre of your sternum, between the valley of your breasts, palming each on his journey. Your body arches up hungrily in anticipation of each kiss, eyes drifting shut as you feel the warmth of his breath waft against the moistened curls of your pelvis, already sodden with want. 

A flash of ecstasy pulls the air from your lungs as your eyes spring open, and you grasp wildly to pull him back up to you. He can’t. It’s too much. But the cowboy holds firm. You peer between your legs in horror as Arthur begins to feast greedily at your cunt. From the depraved sounds from his chest, you intuit that this must be another of this man’s acquired tastes. Still, the sight has you scandalised in such a wickedly licious way you find yourself biting your lip as a drawn-out groan rasps itself out of you. 

A wave of impossible pleasure builds first in your chest. Then it permeates outwards, sending vibrations down your arms and neck, catching in your cheeks, forcing you to huff out pathetic little pants. You begin to writhe and wriggle under the pressure of his tongue, brazen as it dances along your slippery folds. Long, languid licks, lapping you up.

“Ohh-” 

Your legs pull together reflexively in a vice-like grip, ensnaring his head. Still, if Arthur fears suffocation, he shows no signs of stopping, sucking you wholey on the clit until your body is quivering like that of a bow fully drawn.  

“Arthur…” You beg as another wave has your head rolling back into the mattress. “Please… I can’t.” 

“You can.” He rumbles as he pushes a finger inside you, and your legs start to tremble violently, loosening their grip around the cowboy’s head. Jesus Fuck. You jut your pelvis forward involuntarily as your whole being seeks out a deeper penetration. Sensing your rising need, Arthur slides a second digit inside you and curls them in an upward motion as if coaxing your climax to come quicker, harder. Don’t be shy, it’s alright. You're doin' so good for me.

You feel it then, pressure, unlike anything you have experienced from your own hand. Like you are a jug being filled from a fast-flowing river, you feel yourself reaching the brim and then spilling out, overflowing. Water gushing from within, swirling you up in its current and washing you out to sea. Clear liquid streams from your cunt, coating Arthur’s face and neck. As your body resurfaces the only way you know you have not drowned is through the heartbeat you feel pumping in your ears.

“I’m so sorry” You gasp, as you pull off him and quickly try to cover the sodden evidence of your release, fisting desperately at the blankets, distraught by all the new and mortifying ways your body seeks to humiliate you. But then you hear Arthur’s chuckle as he wipes his face with the back of his hand, grinning from ear to ear. 

“I ain’t never made a girl come like that before. C’mere.” Arthur takes hold of your frantic hands and pulls you towards him, scooping you up in his sturdy arms, resting your cheek against the soft curls of his chest and looking down at you adoringly. “You got nothing to apologise for. I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

You silently shake your head, certain you will never be able to look at the man in the face again. He frowns then, trying to work out how to bring you back to him.

“I hope you're not ashamed on account of me? Ain’t nothing prettier I’ve seen, lettin' go for me like that.” 

“But I made a mess.” 

“Just as well Grimshaw ain’t here to scold us about laundry then. ‘Sides, if we hang them by the fire, they’ll be dry by the mornin'. No harm done.” 

You feel his rough palm tenderly cup your cheek, angling your face to his and placing a light kiss at the end of your nose. “I hope you won’t see me different now, Arthur.” Your voice is shaky as it suddenly strikes you how exhausted you feel, body totally spent, laying heavy like lead in his arms. 

“I sees you for who you are; that ain’t changin.” He says earnestly, “We should rest, though; we've got an early rise.” You can still feel him hard as a rock against your hip and wonder if it causes him discomfort. As your eyes trail downwards, he lets out a knowing laugh. “Plenty of time for that after tomorrow.” 

After tomorrow?

He lifts you up to sit on the chair in the corner of the room, wrapping one of the unsullied blankets around your shoulders, another around his waist as he strips down the bed. Thankfully, your release has only soaked through the quilted throw, leaving the linens underneath untouched. He pulls back the sheet and beckons you over. 

As your head hits the pillow, you feel the pull of sleep dragging you towards it, but then you realise Arthur has yet to follow suit. You sit bolt upright, eyes searching around the room for him needily.

“Hey, I’m just here. I weren’t sure if you’d want me in the bed or not. I didn’t wanna assume nothin'.” You practically roll your eyes at his honorableness, as if he wasn’t buried tongue-deep in you no more than five minutes earlier. You reach out a sleepy hand towards him.

“I couldn’t rightfully allow my husband to sleep on the floor now, could I?” you smirk as Arthur finally makes his way over to the bed and tucks himself in tight beside you, wrapping you up underneath his chin.  It’s not long before you are drifting off into a deep sleep, with thoughts about what happens after tomorrow filling your dreams. 🍑

#Peach Flesh #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #red dead smut #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2

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Fake IDs

As promised, here is the winner of my latest poll. Also fun side note that this story is inspired by an idea from the great @misseviehyde

“I don’t know Lisa, this girl doesn’t really look like me.” Fran said as she worriedly looked at the fake ID that Lisa had handed her. It they were going to get into the Sorority party then they needed to bring alcohol and being freshmen there was no way of doing that without getting fake IDs.

“Don’t worry, the lady who sold them told me they world work perfectly. She said no one will even think twice about whether we are the girls on the ID’s, Melissa and Francesca. Besides no one looks at pictures anymore, not since they introduced the fingerprint security feature.” Lisa said matter of factly as if she had done this a million times.

“Yeah but these don’t have any fingerprints on them!” Fran said somewhat panicky as she looked at the space beside the picture where the fingerprint would usually be. The picture of Francesca seemed to look at her with distain. She reminded Fran of all the mean girls from high school with her the flowing hair shiny hair, her pouty full lips, strikingly blue eyes and smooth complexion.

“Relax, the lady explained it all. We put our thumbs on the space for ten seconds and it takes our fingerprint. It’s heat activated or something. Now stop stalling and let’s do this.” Lisa said impatiently.

In truth Fran didn’t even want to go to the Sorority party but Lisa begged her to go. Fran always felt she danced to the beat of Lisa’s music but she was the only person friendly to her at this new school away from home.

As Fran and Lisa placed their thumbs on the back of the IDs, an overwhelming surge of energy enveloped them, triggering a slow and pleasurable transformation.

Fran's once dull and ragged nails began to shimmer with a lustrous shine, growing longer and perfectly manicured. Her legs seemed to elongate, taking on a graceful and alluring curve that caught everyone's eye. Her skin, once plagued by imperfections, became smooth and radiant, glowing with a captivating allure. Her lips, once unremarkable, turned into a sultry and inviting pout that demanded attention. Her once dull lifeless hair transformed into glossy, brown strands that cascaded down her shoulders in a mesmerizing fashion.

"Oh, fuck I don’t know what’s happening but look at me!" Fran declared, a wicked grin forming on her face. "I'm becoming the epitome of beauty!"

With every passing second, Fran's demeanor shifted from surprise to arrogance. Her posture straightened, exuding confidence and dominance. She stood taller, her every movement commanding attention, and she revelled in the newfound sexiness that radiated from her very being.

Lisa's transformation was no less dramatic. Her nails took on a delicate elegance, her legs becoming slender and enchanting. Her skin became a flawless canvas, radiating an ethereal glow that seemed to draw people closer to her. Her lips transformed into a captivating smile that was both inviting and submissive. Her brown hair became a soft and gentle cascade of chestnut locks with blonde slutty streaks that framed her face like a halo.

As Lisa's physical changes progressed, her demeanor underwent a radical shift. She became increasingly docile and subservient, her posture bending to Fran's every whim. With each passing moment, she found herself more entranced by Fran's beauty and authority, unable to resist her friend's new domineering presence.

"Fran, you look absolutely stunning!" Lisa gushed, her voice trembling with awe. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be by your side. You're like a queen, and I'm just honored to be your friend."

Fran's cruel smirk widened, her newfound arrogance fuelling her desire to exert control over Lisa even more. She relished in the power she now held over her once-bossy friend, enjoying every moment of Lisa's submission.

"Of course, I do," Fran replied with an air of superiority. "And I’m ‘Francesca’ remember? In fact ‘Melissa’ let’s get our back stories straight in case anyone asks. We’re new here because our old college kicked us out for bullying but my rich daddy made it go away as long as we switched schools.”

The words seemed to flow through Francesca like she was reading from a book of facts. The more she spoke the more the world around them began to change. Their cheap, poorly built apartment that they stood in transformed becoming bigger, cleaner and filled with expensive things. Neither girl seemed to notice.

“In our old college I was head of the cheerleading team and sorority president. I majored in fashion but I was mostly on the lookout for a hot guy to bag so I could become his trophy wife.” Francesca said with a pleasurable shiver as her fantasies became concrete memories.

“Oh babe that’s so hawt, what about me?” Melissa said eager to hear her backstory. Her eyes sparkled with admiration for Francesca.

“You’re my loyal bestie of course. You do anything and everything I say. You eat up gossip as if your life depended on it and feed it to me. You’re a dumb bimbo who loves cock and partying.” Francesca said finishing up and causing the two girls to throw their heads back as their minds rewrote to the new reality. Within moments they tilted their heads back none the wiser to the two unpopular dorks they used to be.

“We have to dress way more slutty for the frat party.” Francesca said as she swung open the door to her filled to brim walk in closet. She ran her fingers over slutty tops and skirts looking for the right outfit for them.

“Frat party? I thought we were going to the Sorority party?” Melissa said as she twirled her hair and played with her tits in the mirror. Francesca threw clothes out of the closet to Melissa, breaking her gaze with her own reflection. With a giggle Melissa instantly got naked and hungrily put on the white top and checkered skirt.

Francesca meanwhile strutted out of the closet wearing a top that barely held in her plastic paid for tits and a skirt that hid the absence of underwear. She felt hot and dangerous. She didn’t know why but she felt like a new woman and couldn’t wait to get out and have all eyes on her.

“Change of plans, all the hawt guys will be at the Frat party. Besides, we’ll take over the Sorority soon enough.” Francesca said as she shot Melissa a wicked grin that was returned in earnest.

“Oh babe you’re so fucking nasty. I can’t wait to get to the party! I’m going to break my record for dick sucking tonight.” Melissa said with a mischievous giggle.

“Then come on slut, let’s to to the store and pick up some drinks.” Francesca said as she walked towards the door and Melissa loyally followed.

That night the two girls were a huge hit at the Frat party, in every way. Melissa was true to her word and sucked off over a dozen guys, most of them having girlfriends. She loved the taste of a cheating cock.

Francesca however settled for just one dick that night, but her choice was calcullated. He was the head of the Frat and the richest guy on campus to boot. With his kind of power at her disposal she would be queen of the college soon enough and the Sorority would be all hers to command.

As she rode her new man’s dick slowly she smiled to herself as she thought about how she met him before even getting to the party. Her and Melissa were at the store where they realized they had forgot their IDs. This was never a problem for either of them, they usually just flirted with someone there until they got what they wanted. Francesca just so happened to flirt with the most handsome and well hung guy around.

She honestly didn’t even know why she had an ID, she found it much more fun to uses her powers of seduction to get what she wanted.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #power transfer