#Goodbye Pi day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

diejager · 10 months ago

Note

if you’re still writing for the monster 141, what about a bay hybrid reader, who is just on the edges on going into hibernation because the base is in a colder area/remote snowy location

I’m gonna assume you mean bear?

Cw: bear hybrid!readr, hibernation, binge eating, hoarding, tell me if I missed any.

Winter was creeping closer and closer by each day, your instinctual need to sleep away the cold calling to you louder than the prior days. There was a bone-deep exhaustion that clung to you, the heaviness that cold weather brought to you was a constant and nagging feeling that urged you deeper in the nest you’d built yourself in your dark room. Your curtains drawn, lights often closed and locks installed, you’d spent the weeks preparing, hoarding soft pillows, thick blankets and clothes from people you were familiar with.

They were surprised when you brought it up, blinking tiredly and occasionally yawning in the afternoon, stumbling between everyone’s rooms with a small plea on the tip of your tongue. You took whatever they were willing to give you: a blanket from Price and Rudolfo, a shirt from König and Gaz, a jacket from Ghost and Horangi, and a pillow from Soap and Alejandro. As long as it smelled like them, a lingering reminder that you weren’t alone in your humid room, their musk grounding and safety. You wouldn’t be alone.

Price had known you were - like most bears - prone to hibernation, taking between one to three month of your year sleeping away the cold, sinking into your mountain of fabric and sleeping off the coldest months. Your time depended on the year, the warmer it was, the less you slept, and the colder it was, the longer you slept. It might’ve been a bother in people’s eyes - humans - but it was instinctual, a primal part of your brain that still clung to your ancestors who strayed from the path of being normal bears. You couldn’t ignore the pull, the call to sleep, it wasn’t possible for a bear like you, and you were fortunate to have such accommodating teammates.

You grew hungrier, your stomach becoming an endless pit, an abyss that kept taking dish after dish, stocking up in fat and calories that you’d burn during your sleep, keeping you sustained and alive without having to wake up. You ate whatever you that was within your reach, the cold bread, the warm milk, the leftover of two days ago or Soap’s surprisingly good cooking, nothing was safe when you were a big and grumpy and hungry bear near hibernation. Ever supportive and helpful, Soap and Alejandro would jump in to cook for you, hooking Gaz and Rudolfo into being their sous-chef whenever they were free. It was the delicious scent of home cooked and warm meals that brought you to the kitchen, if it wasn’t a call for fixing up someone, it was the smell of good food.

You were ravenous, gulping down the many, many plates the duo - occasionally quartet - placed on the table, their chests puffed up pridefully at your quick eating, you were practically breathing them in. Your constant eating helped you pack some weight, your skin stretched to accommodate your growing amount of fat that would ultimately burn over the months. And when the day came, you were low on energy, grumpy and easy to anger, your patience running paper thin, bidding your goodbyes and see you soon, wrapping your arms around them and teasing them about missing you during your lockdown.

You’d sleep through the cold winter months and wake up to a warmer and busier time, to a welcoming and excited team that had spent the better half of winter waiting impatiently for the TF’s medic to wake up.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

2K notes · View notes

imjustreadinglmao · 7 months ago

Text

BLUE PART II

Paring: Azriel x reader, Lucien x platonic!reader

Series summary: After Azriel and Elain‘s courtship is revealed, their mates, Lucien and Y/N, are left to deal with the consequences. While fighting against Koschei and for Prythian‘s freedom, Y/N has to navigate her emotions and learn how to live with the heartbreak of a one sided mating bond. But what happens when secrets are revealed and everything turns out differently than they thought?

Warnings: unrequited love, death, detailed descriptions of fights and blood, angst, characters being idiots

A/N: my last azrielxreader post won’t appear in the tags so reblogs are very much appreciated.

Word count: 3.3k

It’s a beautiful, crisp spring morning. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and the wind carries the lovely scent of freshly baked pies. I sigh at the prospect of leaving this peaceful place and trading it for the Autumn Court.

As I push the heavy oak doors of the River House open, I can feel anxiety coursing through my veins. After fleeing Autumn seventy-three years ago, I didn’t expect to return there so soon, even if only temporarily. It was difficult for me to leave. I couldn’t risk telling anyone about my plans, so I never had the chance to say goodbye.

Knowing my father, he had probably been more concerned about how me leaving would affect his standing with the High Lord and the other noble families. But my mother and sister… I would give a lot to see them again.

All those years, I have missed the familiarity of my home court, the traditions, and the celebrations I cherished so much as a child.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I step into the foyer. Rhysand, Amren, Azriel, and Lucien are already there, waiting for me.

Except for Lucien and me, who are wearing traditional Autumn Court attire, everyone else is dressed in midnight black.

Lucien looks up as I enter, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “You look… convincing,” he says.

I let out a breathy laugh at that. The last time he saw me in Autumn colors was at a ball my family hosted, which ended with me puking my guts out, most of it landing on Lucien’s shoes.

Judging by the face he is making, he hasn’t forgotten either.

Azriel, standing beside him, nods in agreement. “It suits you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary.

His shadows peek over his shoulder as if they want to take a look too.

I try to ignore the flutter of emotions his words stir within me. Instead, I focus on the mission ahead, on the role I must play. The safety of Prythian depends on our success, and I can’t afford to let myself get distracted.

Rhysand steps forward, a mischievous smile on his face. “I have to say, you both pull off Autumn Court fashion far better than I expected. Maybe we should visit the Autumn Court more often.”

Amren, her eyes assessing our disguises, retorts, “If you spent as much time on strategy as you do on fashion critiques, we’d have won the war by now.”

I have to cover my mouth to not laugh out loud and accidentally anger the century-old creature that’s lurking beneath that Fae body.

Rhys just rolls his eyes, clearly undeterred by her sharp tone. “I’ll have you know that looking good is part of the strategy.”

With one last look at me, he stretches out his hand and asks, “Ready?”

I nod, take his hand, and let him winnow me away.

———————————————————

Arriving at the southern border of the Autumn Court, I am immediately struck by the beauty of the landscape. The trees here are taller than I remember, their leaves a riot of red, orange, and gold, perpetually caught in the peak of autumn. The air carries the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the smoke of distant fires burning in hearths.

As we step onto the moss-covered ground, bittersweet memories flood my mind. I find myself thinking of the simpler days of my youth, the carefree ones.

I feel dark talons gently scraping at the shields in my mind and lwt Rhys in. So lost in the beautiful nature, I barely realize him wishing us good luck and winnowing back to Velaris.

Right after Rhys leaves, Azriel begins to scout the area for any magical traps or shields set by Koschei, leaving us to wait for his return. As the minutes stretch into an hour, my anxiety starts to build.

I pace restlessly, my mind conjuring all sorts of terrible scenarios.

Lucien tries to reassure me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“He’ll be fine,” Lucien says softly. “Azriel knows what he’s doing.”

But his words do little to calm me.

“How can you be so sure? He could be injured… or worse. We don’t know what Koschei is capable of!” I snap.

I begin to ramble, listing every possible way Azriel could have gotten hurt. “What if he’s caught in a trap? What if there’s a magical barrier he can’t break?”

Just thinking about him being in trouble makes me want to vomit. “That’s it. He’s taken long enough. I’m going to find him and—”

Amren steps in, her voice cutting through my panic. “Enough. Get your shit together. We don’t have time for this.”

Her bluntness shocks me into silence, and I sulk, feeling chastised.

But Amren isn’t finished. “Oh, quit acting like a child. Maybe if you told him about your feelings and the mating bond, you wouldn’t be so anxious, girl.”

My mouth drops open and I look to Lucien, his face also morphed into shock. When I look back to Amren, she just lifts an eyebrow.

“How do you know about the bond?”

Amren lets out a long sigh. “Only someone stupid wouldn’t have picked up on that. And Azriel being the stupidest of all.”

She rolls her eyes and starts picking at her nails. “We all suspected it. For a while we thought it snapped for Azriel too. The way he followed you around like a love sick fool, we were sure of it. But I guess it didn’t.”

I don’t say anything else after that, my mind not coming up with a response.

——————————————————

Another hour passes, and my worry only deepens. I can’t stop imagining Azriel injured or trapped, his shadows unable to find a way back to us. Every rustle of the leaves makes me jump, hoping it’s him returning.

Lucien tries to keep me distracted, but my thoughts are a whirl of dread. He tells me stories of his own missions, but I can’t focus on his words. My mind is entirely on Azriel.

Finally, just as the sun reaches its peak, Azriel returns. He looks slightly worse for wear, his clothes torn in some places and his face smeared with dirt, but otherwise unharmed. He notices the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“What happened?” Azriel asks, looking between us.

I step toward him, my relief overwhelming. “Are you okay? What took you so long?”

Azriel nods, his expression serious. “There were more traps than I anticipated. It took a while to disable them all, but the path should be clear now.”

Amren crosses her arms. “Good. We don’t have time for any more delays.”

Lucien places a hand on my shoulder again, this time with a reassuring squeeze. “See? I told you he’d be fine.”

I manage a weak smile, still shaken by the fear that gripped me. Azriel’s eyes soften as he looks at me.

“We should move quickly,” Azriel says, breaking the moment. “It won’t be long till they notice that their shields and traps were destroyed. Amren and I will accompany you to the Forrest House, then we’ll separate and follow the original plan. It’s too dangerous otherwise. We can’t risk you.”

Lucien nods and gestures for me to go first. “Let’s get moving then. The sooner we’re done here, the better.”

We begin to move deeper into the forest, leading to Beron’s residence. The beauty of the surroundings contrasts sharply with the danger I know lurks nearby.

As we walk, I steal glances at Azriel, wondering how he can be so calm and collected all the time.

Gods, I nearly lost my mind over him doing his job. I am a hypocrite for snapping at him the other day. Yes, I am mad at him for courting Elain, but I also can’t expect him to be loyal to me when he doesn’t even know that we’re mates.

How different things would be if it had just snapped for him the second it did for me...

It happened three years ago. Unbeknownst to us, we were just celebrating the last winter solstice without Rhys when it snapped into place.

One moment I was admiring him from afar, the next I was connected to him for the rest of my immortal life.

He had still been in love with Mor back then, so I chose not to say anything. A huge mistake, because soon after, Elain came into the picture.

Truthfully, I never thought they were anything more than friends until I overheard Rhysand ordering Azriel to stay away from her. It wasn’t until then that I realized I had lost him forever. He wasn’t going to stay away from her, so I accepted my fate and kept silent.

———————————————————

After five hours of hiking through bushes, stepping in rabbit holes, and nearly getting killed by a boar, I can feel the exhaustion creeping into my bones.

“Can we please take a break? My legs are going to fall off,” I ask.

Amren smirks, not breaking her stride. “And here I thought you were tougher than this.”

Only Rhysand’s plea to behave and work together holds me back from strangling her. Gods, she really is a cranky hag.

Lucien chuckles softly and turns to me. “We’re only a few minutes away. Hang in there.”

I groan but press on. As we finally crest a hill, the sight of Beron’s castle comes into view, exactly as I remembered it. The imposing structure looms against the deep orange sky, its dark stone walls lined with creeping ivy. Tall, narrow windows glint in the dawning light.

“It’s just like I remember,” I whisper, a mixture of awe and dread washing over me.

Lucien glances at me, his expression unreadable. “Let’s get ready. We need to find a way to get in there.” He points to the entrance of the castle, where nobles are lined up to enter the masquerade ball hosted by the High Lord himself.

We slip through the dense forest that surrounds the castle, our movements silent and precise. Azriel scouts ahead, his shadows cloaking him in near invisibility. After what feels like an eternity, we find a secluded spot to prepare for our infiltration.

“Here,” Amren hands both Lucien and me a stack of clothes. “These are your disguises. You will pose as Lord and Lady Hawthorn. The late Lord Hawthorn died three months ago. You are recently married with no offspring or heir yet. This is your first outing as Lord and Lady. Some might recognize your name, though they should not look twice your way. Be discreet and don’t draw attention.”

“What about the real Lord and Lady Hawthorn? What if they decide to turn up and out us as imposters?” I ask.

Azriel shifts on his feet and answers a bit sheepishly, “Don’t worry, they have already been dealt with.”

My brows furrow in confusion. “What do you—” realization dawns over me. “Oh… oh, okay. I guess that makes this a lot easier.”

I grab the clothes Amren gave me and head for the nearest bush to change. When I look back, Azriel has his head tilted sideways and smiles at me.

The dress I change into is a deep burgundy, adorned with delicate golden embroidery.

The fabric is soft and luxurious and fits me like a second skin. The mask is made of similar fabric, with intricate golden lace around the edge of it.

As I step out from behind the bush, my eyes find Azriel’s immediately.

His eyes, usually so guarded, widen slightly as they take in my appearance, his gaze lingering on the details of my dress and the way it clings to my form.

“You look… stunning,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere.

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks and look away, focusing on Lucien. Lucien is similarly attired, his outfit complementing mine with its dark tones and subtle elegance.

He grins at me. “Shall we, Lady Hawthorn?”

I bark out a laugh. “We shall, Lord Hawthorn.”

———————————————————

Getting inside the Forrest House was easier than expected. We just walked right up to the entrance, stated our names, handed them our fake invites, and were ushered in.

As we step into the grand ballroom, the sheer opulence of the scene takes my breath away.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over the sea of elegantly dressed nobles. Musicians play softly in one corner, their melodies mingling with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses.

At the far end of the room, atop a raised dais, sits Beron, his cold gaze sweeping over the crowd. To his right stands Eris. Our eyes meet briefly, and I give a subtle nod, which he returns.

Lucien and I mingle with the guests, keeping our eyes and ears open, waiting for Eris to give us our signal.

As Beron rises from his throne, a hush falls over the grand ballroom. The guests turn their attention to him. He begins to address the crowd, his voice echoing through the vast space.

“Welcome, esteemed guests, to this celebration of our enduring legacy and power,” Beron proclaims, his tone laced with self-satisfaction.

Just as he is about to continue, the heavy doors of the ballroom burst open. A squadron of Eris’s soldiers rushes in, their armor clanking loudly. The crowd parts like a tide, murmurs of confusion and fear rippling through the room.

Beron’s confident façade falters, replaced by one of anger and panic. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands, his voice rising in pitch as he glares at the soldiers.

Eris steps forward, his demeanor calm and resolute. “Father,” he begins, his voice carrying a chilling edge, “it is time. Your reign has been marked by tyranny and cruelty, and I will no longer stand by and watch my people suffer under your rule.”

Beron’s eyes narrow, a sneer curling his lips. “You think you can overthrow me, Eris? It takes more than a few soldiers to claim this throne.”

Eris begins to smile. “Oh, I know. A noble to swear me in and an heir to secure the lineage, right? Well, here they are.” He gestures to Lucien and me.

My eyes widen as I whisper-shout in Lucien’s ear, “He cannot be serious? THIS is his plan?!”

Lucien replies, equally as quiet. “I have learned a long time ago not to question my brother’s way of handling things.”

“You are truly deluded, Eris.” Beron laughs, a harsh, mocking sound. “They won’t accept a random noble as your heir.”

Eris stands his ground, his gaze unwavering. “But they will. Take off your masks,” he says to Lucien and me.

And so we do. Nobles everywhere are gawking at us. Some eyes fixed on me, most on Lucien.

Beron steps down from the dais. “What a surprise. The lost son finally returns home.” He turns his gaze to me. “And you, you’re Lord Yarrow’s daughter, no?”

I don’t answer. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could. I’m rooted in place, not taking my eyes off Beron.

Beron turns to Eris again. “Well, it seems you really are full of surprises. But you’re forgetting one important thing. You would have to kilI me to claim the throne. And you’ve always been weak, Eris. You’re not strong enough, but you shall try.”

In that moment, I realize what Eris was doing. He was provoking his father into accepting his challenge, and Beron just did exactly that.

“I’ve had a long time to prepare.”

And with that, all hell breaks loose.

———————————————————

Chaos erupts as Beron and Eris clash, their swords flashing in the bright light of the ballroom. Beron's strikes are powerful, but Eris is swift and precise, his fire magic flaring up with every swing.

Lucien and I are quickly surrounded by Beron's soldiers. The nobles' screams fill the air as they flee the room in terror. I manage to grab a blade as the first soldier aims right for my neck.

My heart races as I parry another soldier's blow, my muscles straining with each clash of steel. Lucien fights beside me, his own fire magic scorching the air around us, incinerating our enemies with fiery blasts.

The ballroom is a whirlwind of chaos.

As we cut through the soldiers, our eyes are locked on the fight between Eris and Beron. We try to reach them, but more and more of Beron’s soldiers are streaming in.

Eris and his father fight with brutal intensity, their swords ringing out as they meet. Eris dodges and strikes with a precision that keeps Beron on his toes, but his experience gives him the upper hand, forcing Eris back step by step.

Just as Lucien and I are within seconds of reaching Eris and Beron, the ballroom doors burst open again. Five of Koschei's soldiers, dark magic radiating from them, storm in. They immediately begin slaughtering nobles, women, and children alike. Their dark magic tears through Eris's soldiers as if they were paper.

Lucien and I have no choice but to turn away from Eris and Beron and face Koschei’s magic wielders.

I take several hits to the gut, and a sword slices across my cheek, but I fight on, managing to take down one of the dark soldiers. Lucien, with his fire magic, kills two more, but before the third soldier is turned into ash, he drives a sword straight through Lucien’s chest.

Lucien collapses to his knees, blood pouring from the wound. I rush to his side, my heart pounding in my chest. Lucien's eyes flutter, and he tries to speak, but I stop him. "Save your energy," I beg.

He begins to close his eyes, the loss of blood making him weaker and weaker. "Lucien, stay with me!" I cry, trying to stem the flow of blood with my hands.

I have to get him to a healer fast; otherwise, he will bleed out. So I do the only thing I can think of.

Desperate, I tug on the bond with Azriel, praying that he will sense my distress.

A moment later, Azriel bursts into the room, Amren in tow. Azriel’s eyes widen with panic as he spots me and Lucien. He rushes to us, dropping to his knees beside Lucien.

"Azriel, you have to winnow him back to Velaris," I plead. "Find Madja , now!"

Azriel looks torn. "I can't leave you," he says, his voice tight with fear. “I— not like this. Not with you being my—”

"Amren is here, I’ll be fine," I insist, glancing at Amren, who is finishing off the last two of Koschei’s soldiers. "Please, Azriel! I can’t watch him die. I am begging you, just go, please!"

Azriel nods reluctantly, wrapping his arms around Lucien. With a final, desperate look at me, he winnows away, leaving me behind in the chaos.

With Azriel and Lucien gone, I feel a pang of anxiety, but I have no time to dwell on it. I turn back to the fight, watching as Eris and the High Lord continue their deadly duel.

Around me, the battle rages on. I join Amren, who is ruthlessly dispatching the remaining dark soldiers with a ferocity that belies her small stature.

Together, we fight our way through the chaos, our movements synchronized from years of fighting side by side.

We are fighting for what feels like hours. My arms ache from dealing blow after blow, and my eyes are getting blurry from the lack of sleep.

I steal a glance at Eris and Beron, watching as they exchange hits. Eris manages to land a few blows, but Beron shrugs them off.

The two of them are evenly matched, but the High Lord’s power coursing through Beron's veins gives him a slight edge.

Suddenly, Beron lunges forward, his sword aimed at Eris's heart. Eris barely manages to block the strike, their blades locking together. Fire erupts between them, and for a moment, it looks like Eris might be overpowered.

But Eris digs deep, summoning a burst of strength. He pushes Beron back, their swords disengaging with a loud clang. Eris's flames burn brighter, and he steps forward, pressing the attack.

The next moment, everything is quiet. No swords clashing, no screaming, just utter quiet.

As the flames subside, there, in the middle of the ballroom, not moving, is Beron.

The High Lord of the Autumn Court is dead.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #a court of thorns and roses #lucien x reader #azriel x you #writers on tumblr #eris acotar #rhysand #amren acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #azriel imagine

666 notes · View notes

rhenysz · 11 days ago

Text

Your Dead Eyes - Chapter 3

Summary: Lifeless eyes were what haunted your all life, manu people say that death was lurking around your eyes, Maybe it's true. Maybe you just see things that other people don't.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron! reader fem.

A/n: I... Well, hello. So, Merry Christmas? I didn't fix this properly...

*English is NOT my native language, this fanfic was translated with a little help from a A.i. So, let me know if there are any grammatical errors*

Word count: 3k

Warnings: None that I can remember, some humor, tension , Azriel being a dumb mother hen

previous x next

Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand had already left when you came downstairs for breakfast. Nesta grumbled that they hadn't even eaten before spreading their wings to the sky, making everything around them flutter – including the newly planted rose saplings of Elain, to her great displeasure.

Feyre often returned home in hopes that the queens had already responded. The delay was noticeable given how long ago the letter had been sent, and it was a shot in the dark trying to guess what might have happened, though you doubted the letter had gotten lost in transit, and, mind you, you weren't foolish enough to think it was their indecision.

They were making the High Lord wait for pure amusement, and maybe a little bit of sadism. The human queens were in control of the situation, and that made everything even more delicious. A power struggle where, for the first time, the weaker ones were in charge. It must have been painful to even consider discarding this succulent opportunity that had been handed to them on a golden platter—one in a million, truly.

Bringing the steaming cup of tea to your lips, you sipped cautiously to avoid burning yourself; there was no pain worse than burning your tongue – well, maybe stubbing your toe, you mused with a hum. A gust of wind passed through your hair, signaling that someone was passing by in a hurry.

“Don’t run around the house, Elain,” Nesta grumbled from her spot at the table, clearly not a morning person. Your second eldest sister slipped on the floor and turned back to stop by your side, placing one of her delicate hands on your shoulder to alert you of her presence.

Taking a deep breath, Elain spoke breathlessly, “A new batch of letters is arriving today!”

Now, this was interesting. You placed your hand on hers, squeezing her hand on your shoulder, turning your head slightly to show your interest in the topic. Not because of the letters, obviously.

“Why don’t you come with me, sister? We can stop by that little craft shop too,” Elain suggested. She certainly knew how to brighten your day, and even though you were avoiding crowds, especially those zealots who called themselves the enlightened ones – and that made your skin crawl – it was hard to resist the opportunity to get out of the house. God knows this place could be suffocating.

Nesta was irritated with anyone who breathed in her direction, Elain would shudder at the mere mention of meetings and queens, and you missed Merina and her pies. No matter how hard you tried, it was difficult to connect with your sisters as well as with Feyre, who no longer lived a human life filled with nuances like yours.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed yourself off the chair and blindly grabbed your beautiful cane, intending to head for the door alone, but Elain was quicker and grabbed your wrist, guiding you somewhat hurriedly toward the exit without saying goodbye to a very grumpy Nesta.

The morning wind hit your face as you crossed the threshold, and the birds’ song pierced your ears like a sweet melody. However, as beautiful as it was, your brow furrowed at the hurry in your sister's movements. Surely, the letters couldn’t be that interesting, not to Elain, at least. She could barely stand still when the topic was on the table. Ah, the gossip you'd have today, sweet sister.

“Is there anything else you want from the city besides the letters?” Your tone was dismissive, but even the dullest of men would see the curiosity behind the question.

Elain tripped over something on the ground and almost pulled you down with her, making you question who the blind sister really was here.

She cleared her throat and finally slowed her pace. The hesitation was palpable, and the arm linked to yours grew tense as she nervously began fiddling with the sleeve of her dress.

“I... I was thinking about looking at some prettier engagement rings, maybe gold...” It came out like a croak, and that left you a little more confused. There was no doubt that Elain had good taste and could spot something beautiful from afar, so it was strange that she wanted to see new rings when she loved hers so much.

“I thought you were crazy about that one,” the sounds of people talking grew louder, and your nose wrinkled from the variety of smells; sweets, savory foods, pig dung, and, beneath it all, the fresh scent of pine and whiskey filled your lungs with a warm, inviting sensation.

“Steel” and “Feyre” and “shame” were the only words you managed to catch through the intoxicating fog of the delicious perfume you inhaled. But that was enough for no question to leave your lips.

Turning your focus back to the surroundings as your sister and cane guided you through the streets, bodies occasionally brushed past you, nearly knocking you down; shouts proclaiming devotion to the divine; more frantic cries from merchants trying to sell their goods to eat at the end of the day, and other sounds that were impossible to decipher.

As you walked, Elain stopped abruptly in her tracks. Confused, you turned your head to look at her but got no answer. Without saying a word, your sister started walking again, leaving the noise of the city behind. You quickened your steps to keep up with her, the wind certainly making your hair a tangled mess. At least you wouldn’t have to see it.

Elain slid a bit in the mud, and with a squeak, you stopped by her side. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her lungs struggled to keep up with her breathing. Gods, your sister was trying to kill you just so she wouldn’t have to share the inheritance.

“What in the hell-” you began but didn’t finish. The breeze had risen up your legs, making the hem of your dress flutter and leaving a coolness on your skin, only to disappear faster than it came.

“Azriel?” Azriel? He was the cause of your little sprint? Damn him, what was he doing in such an obvious place?

“Elain,” he greeted your sister, and as he turned to you, he spoke your name in a deep purr, sending a chill down your spine with the tone. You nodded in acknowledgment; your voice no longer belonged to you. “The letter. It’s here.”

Ah, he knew. He already knew the queens' letter had arrived today. How? You didn’t know.

“We were going to see it now,” Elain’s voice was syrupy, soft and sweet, almost like she didn’t know how to speak anymore.

A hum left Azriel’s throat. His trained eyes watched your shy form beside Elain, the corners of his lips tugged upwards but quickly disappeared as he turned his attention back to the eldest Archeron sister.

“Could you fetch it for me, Elain?” Azriel asked gently, and your sister nodded quickly, like a soldier. Not letting go of your hand, she motioned for you to go with her to fetch the letter. “Only you, please.”

Your feet stayed firmly planted, and now the air felt thin. Whatever the Shadowsinger had to say to you was making your nerves bubble.

Elain muttered in discomfort, clearly not wanting to leave you alone with someone she barely knew. Her hand squeezed yours lightly, and you pulled your hand free from her grip, distancing yourself from your sister. With your body facing the man, you encouraged Elain to go. He certainly wouldn’t kill you.

Still, your treacherous mind whispered.

With lips set in a line, Elain quickly made her way to her destination, disappearing into the crowd. The faster she went, the faster she’d be back.

Without your sister nearby, the silence was deafening and uncomfortable, and despite your brief interaction with Azriel, you still found the way his presence surrounded you intimidating.

“Do you have something to say? Or did you just make me stay here for your company?” The words came out sharper than you intended, and perhaps challenging such a powerful fae like him in broad daylight wasn’t the best idea. Shifting your weight, you crossed your arms like a shield. Not that you expected it to stop him.

Your ears perked up when you heard a rough chuckle leave Azriel. His lips pressed together; it wasn’t the response you were expecting.

“I didn’t,” he paused and licked his lips, thinking carefully about his next words. “But I feel like I do now.”

Ah, so much for being mysterious. If this non-human man wanted to make you squirm with anxiety, he was succeeding beautifully.

“And…” your voice carried impatience.

“And I don’t think you should be part of the meeting with the queens.”

Your mind stopped. It felt completely empty, focused only on trying to process Azriel’s words. Letting your arms fall to your sides, you lifted your chin, hoping you were looking at his face as you spoke. “Why? Is there a reason for this?

Simple and shyer than you intended.

Azriel was no longer amused. His face darkened into a scowl as he studied you from your structure to your features – sculpted nose, mouth pulled down, and then, eyes. His eyes were windows to his soul, so sweet that, even if not fully functional, could bring legions to their knees.

And that was the problem.

“The queens aren’t trustworthy, and I don’t want you to be a target. They’re bitter and vile with people…” His words rushed out, his wings tightening behind him, letting the weight of what he had to say burn his tongue. “...weaker ones.”

You bit your cheek until you tasted the faint copper of your blood. Indignation wasn’t the right word to describe what you were feeling, but the disbelief on your flushed face certainly expressed it.

Fragile. The Illyrian who barely knew you for more than a week was insulting you so openly, without a shred of shame. You might not see things like other people, but this made you grow a pair of balls like nothing else, and it wasn’t this male who was going to put you down now.

With clenched fists, you took a step toward him, closing the distance to a breath’s length. The smell of whiskey that had been so enticing returned, but now that you knew who it belonged to, it didn’t seem so intoxicating. Or maybe it was, a little, your mind whispered.

“I don’t think I gave you any right to make assumptions about me, fairy.” You spat the words, especially the scornful nickname you secretly used for him and his brothers.

Azriel growled low, and ah, it wasn’t because of your words.

The rustling of leaves made you step back from the winged male, and quickly, his features softened. Elain stopped next to you, breathless, handing the letter to Azriel, as if it were burning her.

“Here, it arrived last night,” she said before taking your arm and walking away as quickly as possible.

“Thank you,” Azriel acknowledged with a nod. Elain smiled tightly, already guiding you away. His voice came again, but this time as a warning, making your shoulders tense. “Don’t forget what I said.” And then he was gone, swallowed by his shadows as if he had never been there.

Elain furrowed her brow and turned to you, questioning what Azriel had meant.

“Nothing, he didn’t say anything.” Nothing you cared about, at least.

“Hold your breath,” Nesta reprimanded you, her fingers pulling tighter on your corset strings, her delicate fingers and the crushing leather threatening to break your ribs.

“Tighten it any more, and watch me turn purple on this floor, sister.” You gasped out the words with difficulty. Nesta clearly wanted to kill you. You knew she was against you exposing yourself at the meeting, but you never thought she'd deliberately try to kill you.

“Stop whining, it's ready.” Nesta grumbled, and then her presence pulled away from you, her footsteps echoing as she walked to the vanity in front of you. Your head tilted to the side at the sound of objects clinking. She was making a mess, no doubt.

Nesta's heat returned as she stopped in front of you. Her warm hand held your chin firmly but gently, and the bristles of a brush tickled your lips. It was soft, sticky, with a faint scent of roses. Lipstick.

Nesta was dressing you up like a doll. Your chest warmed at the feeling. Having your sister care for and pamper you like this was a delight. It was fleeting, but so appreciated when it happened.

Pulling the brush from your lips, Nesta glanced at you. Long, trembling lashes, cheeks rosy with powder, angelic features. You were beautiful. A slight tug appeared on her lips, satisfied with her work.

“If you keep staring at me, I’m going to start thinking you like me.” Your playful voice earned an eye roll from Nesta, who, with a huff, stepped away from you, already missing the warmth of her presence.

"Don't be fooled," Nesta retorted playfully, you expected it to be a joke as she took your arm in hers and began guiding you out of your room and into the living room. The shrill creak of the door alerted you that you were passing through the main hall, just a few steps away from the comfortable armchairs that Elain had arranged for you. "Sit down, they should be arriving soon."

Groping for the armchair, you slowly lowered yourself until you were seated. Your sister settled beside you, and barely half a second later, a knock echoed on the door. Nesta took a deep breath beside you, and abruptly stood up, walking toward the door. As much for a brief break, a laugh escaped you. Hopefully, she wouldn't hear it.

The sound of what seemed like a crowd of footsteps approached where you were, low, nervous murmurs could be heard, and a melodic voice, different from those you already knew, made your eyebrow raise in curiosity.

"Sister, you look beautiful," Feyre greeted you warmly, her hands on your shoulder for a hug. A little awkwardly, you stood to hug her better. Nestling your face into her neck, you squeezed her tighter. It felt like you hadn't seen her in a decade. The sound of someone clearing their throat made your sister pull away from the hug, to your disappointment. "Sorry. Mor, this is my younger sister."

Mor? Another fae? You turned to where you thought she was. Mor smiled and approached, taking your hand in hers. Her sudden action made you jump slightly.

"It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Feyre has told me so much about you." Her voice was gentle, her shoulders relaxed, and you let yourself return her smile. She seemed like a woman with a strong spirit. Perhaps Nesta could find a friend in her.

"I'm happy to meet another one of my sister’s friends." You greeted her properly with a nod.

"That's enough, Mor. You're suffocating her." A cold shiver ran down your spine when Azriel's rough voice reached you. The memory of your last encounter still vivid in your mind. Your face twisted into a grimace. Mor huffed and pulled away, muttering about how Azriel was a joy-killer. You could agree with that.

Feyre, beside you, looked at the two of you with suspicion. Since you entered, Azriel hadn't taken his eyes off you, following every movement like a hawk. Your reaction to him only seemed to intrigue her more. With a kiss on your forehead, she guided you to sit again.

It seemed everyone was settling into their places, Elain arriving elegantly late and sitting to your right, Nesta a little farther to your left. You couldn’t tell exactly where everyone else was, but someone was behind you. You could feel the warmth of their presence.

"Stubborn artisan." Damn fae.

Azriel teased you with the nickname. If you could give him nicknames, why not? He took a step closer, leaning against your chair, ignoring the sharp look you shot at him. He bent down slightly, just enough for you to hear, his velvety tone making your hairs stand on end.

"You seemed more inclined to listen that night." Your face heated with the memory. With a small grin, Azriel stood up and turned his gaze away, completely satisfied with himself.

Before you could think of a witty retort, a loud bang echoed through the house, making everyone tense. They’ve arrived. The human queens were finally here. It was time to begin the meeting that would put everything at stake.

TAGLIST: @dearestdaffodils @going-through-shit

@valeridarkness @wallacewillow0773638

@harrystylesfan2686 @carnationworld

@applerubyy @saltedcoffeescotch

@esposadomd @justdreamstars

@microwaveallthedemons @cherryinsalemverse

@stqrgirlies-blog @brujitafantomatico

@bionic-donut @kemillyfreitas

@judig92 @sassybluebird

@frietiemeloen @success78 @mariahoedt @macimads @prongslena @hnyclover @bravo-delta-eccho @cherryinsalemverse @weasleyreidstyles

*Please, if I tagged you wrong or you want to be removed from the taglist let me know!*

#~rhenysz #azriel x reader #yde #acotar x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #elain archeron #eventual romance #shadowsinger x reader #azriel #x reader

236 notes · View notes

scampthecorgi · 2 months ago

Text

It’s been one year since we had to say goodbye to Scamp, and I still miss him every day. I remember some people saying now he was at his “fishpond in the sky” which always stuck with me. So in honor of Scamp, here is a peaceful clip of him at his favorite place (other than a table full of pies).

🐶🌈❤️

#scamp the corgi

271 notes · View notes

growingstories · 2 months ago

Text

La vie est belle

Thibault, a 35-year-old with a big chest, strong arms embodies the ex-jock look with his abs covered by the good French life. He lives in a quaint French countryside filled with wine farms that have been in his family for four generations. Thibault is a hard worker who has dedicated himself to weightlifting at his home gym and running the farm. However, he struggles with finding a romantic partner as there are no openly gay individuals in his small town, and he despises city life. Thankfully, his mother and his four loving sisters constantly pamper him.

Despite his weightlifting and because of his mother's delicious food he said goodbye to his abs when he returned home after his economics study. Home made pies, foie gras, cheese boards, stews, etc, all made it impossible to live on just chicken and broccoli. Thibault has always harbored an ambition to win prizes for his family's wines. However, the sudden death of his father left him unable to achieve this dream as his father didn’t get the chance to leave him the family’s wine blending secrets. As a means to gather feedback, Thibault starts dining at a restaurant that sells wines from the region and forms a bond with the owners who pamper him with delicious food. Unfortunately, indulging in these culinary delights leads to him gaining some weight. Mainly around his belly.

After a few years of trying out blends Thibault's fortunes change when he becomes the winner of a prestigious regional wine festival. Thrilled with this recognition, he takes his wines to various other festivals and attends big parties and tastings. However, as he immerses himself in this world, Thibault's belly continues to grow alongside his success.

Thibault's wines gain popularity, and upscale restaurants invite him to bring his wines for menu tastings. His mother, concerned about his well-being, packs snacks for him to enjoy during the long drives. These snacks, along with his indulgence in fatty breakfasts to combat hangovers, only contribute to his expanding waistline. Eventually, Thibault finds himself needing to buy a new wardrobe to accommodate his weight gain.

To combat the effects of his overeating, Thibault starts running. However, his fitness journey comes to an abrupt halt when he injures his ankle, rendering him unable to do anything but focus on exercises for his chest and arms. This setback only serves to bulk up these muscles, causing Thibault to outgrow his gym shirts.

His awarded wines give him to write about his passion in the culinary world. As a food and wine critic for a prominent international newspaper, Thibault finds himself in the perfect position to recover from his injury. His mother aids in his recovery by preparing delectable food pairings for his wine tastings, and farmers from the countryside send him their specialties to try. These days are filled with writing and indulging in delicious meals.

Unfortunately, Thibault's mother falls ill and entrusts her daughters with taking care of him. Each night, a different sister cooks for him, ensuring he has big portions of food to fuel his growing business and appetite. As a result, Thibault's belly expands exponentially, making simple tasks such as tying his shoes more challenging and leaving him out of breath quickly.

Due to his expertise in the wine industry, Thibault is appointed as the chairman of a prestigious wine qualification company. This honorable position brings him recognition from farmers who send him gifts, food, and wine. As Thibault visits various towns for his work, he finds himself surrounded by enticing food and never-ending parties, causing his weight to steadily increase.

Thibault's godson Bernard, the son of his closest friends and neighbors, came back from university in the US. The boy turned into a handsome and muscular young man, expresses a desire to work for his godfather. Thibault gladly accepts and tries not to fall in live with the young man. Wanting to keep his beloved godfather happy, Bernard takes charge of cooking their lunches. Bernard had learned to cook big American meals in dorm combining this with French taste. Thibault, trying to hide his crush, started to eat everything in sight. As Thibault becomes a charitable figure, he is invited to various events and wants Bernard to accompany him everywhere.

While Thibault sleeps off the hangovers from wine filled nights Bernard starts his days with a run and picks up breakfast for his godfather. One morning Thibault looked out of the window and sees his godson shirtless sweating and stretching after his run. The sight is amazing, the young man has sculpted abs and a big chest. Amazingly big legs and a round ass. He feels his dick getting hard, but when he looked down he couldn't even see his feet anymore. Bernard caught Thibault staring and waved and holds up a bag of pastries. Thibault is embarrassed. How can he be attracted to his godson, its just wrong he tells himself. Bernard brings up the breakfast to his room, still shirtless. He gives the bag to Thibault and tells him he bought som extra for the long roadtrip. The trip is tense, Thibault didnt dare to speak and ate all the pastries within in the first hour. Bernard thinks his godfather is just hungry and after pumping gas he returns to the car with more food.

This can’t continue Thibault thinks to himself as he looks down to his massive belly sitting in his lap. Looking at his reflexing in the car mirror, he suddenly realized what happened to him, he wekt from fit college jock to grey haired morbidly obese 43 years old single gay wine farmer.

Stay tuned for part 2

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction #exjock #aiweightgain

194 notes · View notes

thicccshady · 19 days ago

Text

Welcome Home (Your Biggest Fan Part Two)🐾

Eminem X Reader

image pulled from google

✨️MasterList✨️

PART ONE Your Biggest Fan 🐾

Content: Fluff, Cursing, Brief mentions of animal abuse, Crying

Heart beating out of your chest, you reached towards your phone. A number you didn’t recognize looked back at you. It bared the 313-area code. Holding your breath you answered the phone with a soft "Hello?"

“Hello, is this Y/N?”

“Yes, this is she,” you said, pinching your phone between your shoulder and ear. If this was the call you’d been hoping for, you wanted to be ready to head out the door immediately.

“Hi! Yes, you visited us the other day. I understand you were interested in Stan-“

“Yes, that’s correct!”

The voice on the other end chuckled at your enthusiasm. “Wonderful! His new home did not work out and he is back with us. He wanted me to ask if would you be interested in adopting him?”

A huge smile crossed your face. “We would love to.”

“Amazing! We are able to place him on hold here for three days. Do you have a minute to schedule a time to come in for paperwork?”

“Yes!” Taking a hold of your phone, you put the call on speaker and opened your calendar. Thank god, you weren’t scheduled to go into work today. “Actually, if it’s alright, I could come in in about forty-five minutes from now.”

“Sure, let me check our openings for today.” Trying your best to be patient, you began to fidget. “Oh, looks like we are rather booked today. Would you be able to come in at 4:30?”

“Absolutely” Oh my god, how would you tell Marshall.

“Great! If you decide to take Stan home today. We will send him home with his medical records, a collar and leash. He currently is eating Iams chicken and rice dry dog food. We recommend sticking to the food the dogs are used to. Switching to another brand may cause an upset stomach. I have had the pleasure of spending some time with Stan while he has been with us. Personally, I recommend picking up some squeaky toys for him. Those tend to not last long here, but when he was able to play with one, he loved it.”

“Sounds like I have a bit of shopping to do!” You switched over to your notes app and began to make a list.

“Oh, my he will love to be spoiled. Well, Y/N, if there is anything we can help you with in the meantime feel free to call us back. Unless we hear otherwise, we will plan to see you at 4:30!”

“Thank you so much. See you then!”

“Alrighty, have a good day.”

“Thanks, you too! Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, you couldn’t hold in the excitement anymore. You did a little happy dance. Suddenly, the weight of what just happened hit you. You agreed to adopt a dog. Not just any dog, though—it was Stan. Should you have called Marshall first? What if his feelings about Stan had changed?

Frantically you pulled up his contact. He didn’t always answer when at the studio though. The phone rang and rang before going to voicemail: “The person you called has a voice mailbox that has not been set up yet. Please try again later. Goodbye.”

You sighed, typing out a quick message asking him to call when he had a moment, then set to work preparing the house. Even if Marshall wasn’t on board, the worst-case scenario would be a cleaner home. Vacuuming, organizing, and rearranging, you spent the morning in a productive frenzy.

Treating yourself to some tea and a rest. You picked up your phone to a text from Paul.

That’s all you needed to hear. You were going to bring Stan home today. Marshall would get home around 5:20. With some luck, and little traffic you could make it back before him.

After stashing away some of Marshall’s loose cassettes scattered on the floor, you grabbed your keys and checked your shopping list one more time.

Iams chicken and rice dry dog food

Bowls

Leash

Collar

Squeaky toy

Peanut butter/treats

Dog bed

Dog brush

Poop bags

Travel crate

Lots of toys

---

Your car’s backseat was soon filled with bags. You hadn’t enjoyed shopping this much in ages, and the deals you found weren’t bad either. The pièce de résistance, however, was a dog-sized hoodie that would match Marshall’s favorite.

The clock on your dash read 3:04. You would have just enough time to grab some lunch, set up Stan’s new things at home, and make it to the dog shelter before your appointment.

Excitement radiated through you as you pulled into the driveway, gravel crunched under the tires. Lugging the bags inside, you transformed your home for its newest resident. First, the food and water bowls found a spot in the kitchen, tucked away in a corner to avoid spills. You arranged the plush dog bed in the living room near the couch, where you knew Stan would want to be close to you but more so Marshall. Surely, the bed would be moved to Marshall's office on days he worked from home. The squeaky toys were arranged in a basket by the TV stand, though you chuckled, imagining the chaos when Stan—or Marshall—dumped them all out.

By 3:45, everything was ready. You sat the hoodie by the door alongside a hat, a subtle hint for Marshall if you didn’t make it home first. A quick glance in the mirror and a face wash later, you were back in the car, heart pounding with anticipation.

The shelter was calmer than you remembered, a stark contrast to the excited storm brewing inside you. The same cheerful volunteer from before greeted you with a wide smile. “Hi, Y/N! Right on time. Are you ready to take Stan home?”

“More than ready,” you replied, practically bouncing on your toes.

The adoption paperwork was straightforward, though it felt like it took forever. You could hardly focus as the volunteer walked you through the forms, nodding eagerly at all the right moments. Your fingers drummed against the office chair you sat in. Finally, with a flourish, you signed your name at the bottom. Clicking the pen closed, your phone rang. It was Marshall. Shit, he should still be at the studio. Did he go home early? Excusing yourself, you stepped outside to answer.

“Hey, Love.” You tried to steady your voice, shaky with excitement.

“Yo. I am starving. We are wrapping up a bit early today. Thoughts on pizza from that place across town?”

Mentally, you calculated what time this would get him home. “Sounds great. What time do you think you’ll make it back?” You tried so hard not to sound suspicious.

“uhh. maybe forty-five minutes to an hour. Also, I might get us a little surprise.”

Giggling at his normal nonsense, “Okay, drive safe.”

“Nah.” His voice changing to the higher pitched tone he uses with babies, dogs, and apparently you, “I Wuv You!”

“I love you too, Marshall. Bye bye.” Holding your phone to your chest, the sparkle in your eyes brightened. This was going to work out perfectly.

Re-entering the room, the volunteered looked up at you. “Are you ready for Stan? I know he has been very eager to see you again.”

You slid back into the office chair, “Absolutely!”

“Great! I’ll go get him for you,” the volunteer said, taking the papers and disappearing down the hall.

A few minutes later, the sound of claws clicking in the hallway tile announced his arrival. Stan bounded into the room; tail wagging so hard it looked like it might propel him into the air. The volunteer handed you the leash, and Stan immediately began sniffing every inch of your shoes, pants, and hands. His feet danced with excitement, as his backend wiggled back and forth.

“Hey, buddy,” you cooed, kneeling to meet him. His warm, wet nose nuzzled your cheek, and your heart melted all over again.

As the volunteer handed you Stan’s file, she lingered for a moment, her expression softening. “Before you take him home, I thought you might want to know a little more about Stan’s story.”

You nodded eagerly, rubbing Stan’s ears while he looked up at you with his big, trusting eyes.

“Stan’s past is a bit of a mystery,” she began. “He was found in the winter wandering in a park downtown. A kind gentleman saw him there a few days in a row—no collar, no tags, and looking severely underfed. He brought him to us, and we scanned Stan for a microchip, but there wasn’t one. He either escaped and was never found or, more likely, lifted by his previous owners.”

Your heart ached at the thought of him all alone, cold, scavenging for food and waiting for someone who never came. You gave him an extra scratch behind his ears, and his tail thumped against your leg.

“We estimate he’s about two years old, based on his teeth and overall health. He was pretty scared when he first came in. A lot of dogs are, especially if they haven’t been around people much, but Stan warmed up quickly. He’s incredibly sweet and loves attention—honestly probably because he didn’t get much of it before. It’s clear someone trained him a little; he mostly knows basic commands like sit and stay, and he’s decently house-trained. So, whoever had him before must have cared at least a little.”

“Poor guy,” you murmured, looking into Stan’s soulful eyes. “But he’s okay now?”

The volunteer nodded. “He is. He’s been with us for a while. At first, he was overlooked—mutts often are, unfortunately—but then, as you know, a young couple fell in love with him. They were so excited to take him home.”

You frowned, glancing down at Stan. “If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t it work out?”

The volunteer smiled softly. “I view it as a happy ending. They were a nice couple, but shortly after they brought him home, they found out they’re expecting their first child. They were understandably overwhelmed and felt it wouldn’t be fair to Stan to bring him into such a big transition. They brought him back, and it was clear they were heartbroken about it.”

You stroked Stan’s head as he leaned into your touch, a pang of sadness mingling with your happiness. “That’s rough. For them and for him.”

“It is,” the volunteer agreed. “But we’re so glad he found you. From what we’ve seen, Stan’s a resilient guy. He just loves being loved.”

“Well, he’s going to get plenty of that with us,” you promised, your voice firm, and hands cupping Stan's sweet face.

The volunteer beamed. “I can tell you’re going to be a great match. Just take things slow and let him settle in at his own pace. If you ever need help or advice, don’t hesitate to reach out.”

“Thank you for taking care of him,” you said, feeling the leash between your fingers and looking at Stan. “You’re coming home, buddy.”

Marshall’s car pulled into the garage, the sound of the engine humming to a stop. Inside the house, Stan was dressed for the big moment: the dog-sized hoodie you’d picked out earlier fit him perfectly. To top it off, your old baseball cap perched precariously on Stan’s head, just enough to make the sight of him even more heart-meltingly adorable, and dare you say a little shady.

You crouched by Stan’s side, giving his ear a gentle scratch. “Okay, buddy,” you whispered, your voice a mix of nerves and excitement. “This is it. You ready?”

Stan looked at you as if he knew something big was about to happen. You had been preparing for this moment all afternoon, and now it was finally here. Stan sat obediently by the door, his tail wagging furiously but butt staying in place, just like you’d practiced.

The sound of the car door closing snapped you into motion. Reminding Stan to "Stay," you hurried outside, stepping into the garage just as Marshall was heading toward the trunk to grab the food.

“Hey,” you called out, your tone calm and casual—too casual, given the excitement buzzing under your skin.

Marshall turned to you, smiling but raising an eyebrow. “Hey pretty lady… what are you doing out here? It’s cold.”

“I thought I’d greet you,” you said with a shrug, stepping closer. “But, uh… don’t worry about carrying anything in. I’ve got it all under control.”

Marshall paused, his eyes narrowing playfully. “The fuck?... Woman, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing!” you said a little too quickly, your voice going up an octave. “Just trust me, okay?”

Marshall chuckled, leaning against the car. “Well now I’m not sure if I should.”

“Pleaseee, Marshall,” you grabbed the food, stepping back toward the house and motioning for him to follow. “Come inside.”

Marshall shook his head and chuckled, as he followed you. “You’re being fucking weird, but okay.”

The moment he opened the door, Stan perked up from his spot, his entire body quivering with excitement. For a split second, Marshall froze, his eyes widening as they landed on Stan.

As Stan bolted towards Marshall, the baseball cap slipped off his square head. The dog bounded into Marshall’s arms, his tail wagging furiously.

Catching Stan in a tight hug, Marshall lowered themselves to his knees.

You leaned against the doorframe, grinning as you watched the reunion. “Surprise.” you said softly.

Marshall met your gaze, his expression a mixture of disbelief and pure happiness. “You—wait—he’s ours?”

You nodded, noticing Marshall’s teary eyes, a lump caught in your throat at the sight. “Yeah. He’s ours. I got the call this morning, and I couldn’t say no. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind?” Marshall asked, his voice cracking as Stan licked his cheek. “Are you shitting me?”

“Not at all. I think he missed you too much,” you said tears now filling your eyes.

“I missed him too,” Marshall replied, his voice soft as he looked down at Stan. Then he looked back up at you, his eyes shining. “Thank you Y/N.”

Almost as if he rehearsed it, Stan snuggled into Marshall and attacked him with kisses, whipping away the tears slipping down Marshall’s cheeks. Petting Stan with both hands, Marshall tried to process everything. “Yooo, you’re wearing a hoodie, little man? And—wait, is that your hat?”

Stan barked happily, spinning in circles in front of Marshall. You walked over, scooping up the cap from the floor. “Figured he needed to look his best for his big reunion,” you said, placing the hat back on Stan’s head for a moment before it fell off again.

Marshall laughed, shaking his head. “Fucking unbelievable,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He looked back at Stan, then at you, his eyes shining. “Thank you. I don’t even know what to say.” Marshall pulled you into a hug, his free arm still wrapped around Stan, who was now happily nestled between the two of you.

“Best surprise ever,” Marshall said, his voice quiet but full of meaning. Reality snapping back to him, Marshall looked towards you. “My surprise looks like shit now. And here I thought a secret order of breadsticks would be the highlight of our night.”

You laughed, resting your head against his shoulder as Stan sniffed you. “Welcome home,” you whispered, as you scratched behind his ears.

Stan wiggled in the middle, his tail thumping against both of you like a rhythmic drumbeat. Marshall scratched behind Stan’s ears, his gaze soft as he looked at you with a full smile. “This little guy’s going to be spoiled rotten. You know that, right?... We need to get the little dude some Snoop doggy merch.”

A/N: Hey chat. I cried writing this. I'm not sure if there will be a part three.. but I could be talked into it. I really love dog dad Marshall. <3

✨️Want to know when I post? Click here to join my taglist!✨️

@crazycat-ladys-blog@ @tomdayaloveforever@ @4-ln4@ @hereforfun-31@ @watercolorskyy@ @anjee0@ @80sprincess1@ @sweetmusicvoid@ @viktoriya2008@ @confiaenanaa@ @nebulamorada@ @darkstarfishbird@ @harry-styles14@ @devi-paxton20@ @therealmarsh-mallow@

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #x reader

65 notes · View notes

yourmomwhitediamond · 10 months ago

Note

Can I request Rosie x female reader who owns a cannibal meat pie shop close to the emporium? Just them being a cute couple after a long work day. Maybe Y/N brings over some special meat pies she made just for her lovely girlfriend?

Here’s the first one! I am rusty with my writing, so you’ll have to excuse any mistakes. I hope this is good enough! Enjoy!! :D

You were packing everything up for closing time, as per usual. Double checking every cabinet door was shut and locked before heading into the back of your store to gather all that you had brought with you and what you planned to bring home. The main item of concern was a pie you had specially made for your girlfriend and wanted to get home to her while it was still warm. Seconds before you went to flip the final switch the store's bell rang out and you groaned. Every day, at this exact time, the same person would come in at the last second. Susan. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, putting on your best smile as you stepped back out into the front.

"Susan," You greeted in a sickly sweet voice, already sliding open the panel to where her regular order was displayed, "What can I get for you?"

"The same as always, please" Please? That's a first. You didn't comment on it and simply nodded, going on to bring out the tray. If you took too long she'd get snappy, so there was no time for any chitchat, not like you wanted to converse with her today. It had been a hectic day, the time of the week where you’d made a fresh batch of human pies, and Susan was prolonging it.

Swiftly, you wrapped up Susan's order, not wanting to waste a minute longer. You cursed yourself for not doing this early with the knowledge that she'd come along. When you placed it on the counter, ready to take Susan's payment, you checked the time. If she was quick at getting her money out then you'd only be five minutes late. That didn't happen. Because Susan just had to go and take her sweet time getting every penny out of her purse. You felt like reaching over the counter to strangle her, but kept a smile on your face, nevertheless.

When it had been paid for you bid her goodbye, "Bye Susan, I hope you have a lovely evening"

You got the same old, "You too" from her. And the second the door closed you scrambled to gather your things, praying for no further interruptions. With the lights turned off, a bag over your shoulder and the door locked securely, you hurried home.

The moment you walked into your home you were greeted with Rosie's welcoming smile that you returned with an apologetic one.

"I'm so sorry I'm late-"

"Susan?" She interrupted your apology with an amused smirk.

You let out a short chuckle and a curt nod. You were so thankful to have such an empathetic partner such as her. She understood the struggles of dealing with Susan. You went over and pressed a kiss on either of her cheeks followed by a peck on the lips.

"She's insufferable" You whispered.

Rosie cupped your face and brought you into a kiss, mumbling against your lips, "I know, darling"

Smiling blissfully, you parted but kept your forehead up against Rosie's with your eyes closed. She sighed contently whilst snaking her arms around your waist. Her hands bumped into your bag which caused her to look down with an inquisitive expression.

"What's in the bag?" Her question brought you out of your enraptured state. Your eyes snapped open and you stepped back from the embrace.

"I made you a little something," You told her as you reached into your bag. A proud smile adorned your face with the pie you'd baked held out in front of you.

"Oh sweetie," Rosie took the pie and grinned widely, taking in the intricate patterns on the pastry, "I thought I smelt something good"

"It's got all of your favourite meats in; pinky fingers, eyeballs with some brain, and a few other little things. It will need warming up aswell"

"It'll be perfect, you know me all too well" She placed a kiss on your head before walking off to the dining table. You followed suit, noticing the teapot and cups set in your places. It made your smile grow further knowing that she'd patiently been awaiting your return, having prepared you both the hot beverages to drink over some good gossip, as always.

"Pray tell what these 'few other little things' are?"

"I'm not telling" She feigned an offended gasp at your response.

Laughing faintly, you approached her from behind and wrapped your arms around her waist. With your chin resting on her shoulder, you whispered, "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"

"I suppose I will”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin hotel rosie x reader #hazbin rosie x reader #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel fanfiction

182 notes · View notes

orchidsangel · 1 year ago

Text

i don't think it's crazy to assume that it's been a while since jason has spent thanksgiving with someone who he truly cares about and who truly cares about him.

i also don't think it's crazy to assume that he's become so used to spending this time of the year alone. patrolling at night instead of going home to a family and eating takeout on days when people typically prepare massive meals to share with their loved ones.

he's so used to it that when you make a big deal of your first thanksgiving together he doesn't really get it at first. to him it's just another day of protecting gotham, to you it's a day to celebrate how thankful you are for the people in your life including him.

you typically spend it with your family, and this year you invite him but he politely declines. says he can't make it, has to patrol, doesn't want to intrude, etc. and you assure him that he can take a night off and it's not intruding if you want him there. still, he's set on not going and you don't push it because you know how to read between the lines, family holidays are a touchy subject for him, it's nothing personal.

when the day rolls around you go to the home of whoever you're celebrating with, and it's great, ofc it is. you're with people you love, eating really good food, catching up with the ones you haven't seen in a while.

and even though you're happy, there's still something missing. someone missing.

if you're out of state, you send him a pic of your plate.

"eating for two."

"what???"

you excuse yourself from the table, going into an unoccupied bathroom to call him. he immediately picks up.

"eating for two huh?"

"yeah, me and you."

he laughs but you can hear relief in his breaths , and you spend the next thirty or so minutes making small talk. it's not awkward but there's something bigger looming between the two of you.

"i wish you were here." you say

and he responds with, "i know."

"maybe next year?"

"maybe next year."

someone knocks on the door, asking if you're almost done, they're bringing out the pies soon. and you and jason say your goodbyes, you hope in that moment that he knows just how thankful for him you are.

if you're still in gotham, you start the night off pretty similarly. enjoying the food and the people around you, playing games and catching up.

but the second you feel that pang in your heart you start plating up enough food to feed a small army (or 200+ pounds of pure muscle). you put some plastic wrap over it and grab your coat. someone asks where you're going, and you just tell them you have work in the morning.

it's cold outside, the climate crisis making november unbearably cold before snow even hits the ground. and you haul ass to your car, driving totally safely, totally not in a rush to see your boyfriend.

when he opens the door of his apartment he's confused, but he still takes the plate from your hands, setting it down somewhere, and holds you in his arms for a while.

"you didn't have to come."

"i wanted to."

"you should be with your family right now""

"you are my family."

i have really bad bf!jason brainrot, need to spend the holidays with him sooooo bad and tell him how much i love him. something similar to the second part. (also this isn't proofread my b)

#divider by cafekitsune #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd i’ll love you forever #put it in the queue

260 notes · View notes

sgiandubh · 7 months ago

Text

Señorita Nothingburger

🎶When you see her, say a prayer /And kiss your heart arse goodbye 🎶

Lauren 2.0. Wow: after The Paid Companion, The Wannabe. Unlike the first round of revelations, this time the output has been totally disappointing. Very few things and zero context, which I have to say I was totally expecting, because it didn't exactly fit the agenda being pushed by Marple (amen!). Lightning never strikes the same place twice, right? And then, we had The Follow - a very interesting foolish, yet telling move: but on this, a bit further down the road, mind you.

So, let's ask ourselves along with La Ciccone: '¿Quién es esa niña?' For once, his IG follow has been very explicit:

Leading whoever to this account...

Elix Wellness is offering a very specific range of treatments, of which the one for hangovers really got me interested:

And yeah, even if I have apparently been scooped out by Marple on this one (my bad for sitting on it for a day), shamelessly using my patented methods (that is a lame joke), Lauren 2.0's LinkedIn account is, for once, very clear:

Her contract as a Travel RN was over by August 2023, as pointed out across the street:

And then she decided to go independent and open her own company. So, by far not a hooker - decent education, even, at NYU.

Lo and behold, who had Ibuprofen in his hotel room, in May 2023, when they were spotted on that NY Soho terrace, having lunch (didn't we laugh? you bet we did, it was one of my first posts in this fandom!)? S, of course. Hangovers could use both ibuprofen and a good IV cleansing treatment ( see above - such a common offering in that particular town, soon to be out of fashion - but hey: if she believes it can bring money, not my problem).

But... dating her? Not a chance in hell. You see, just a cursory survey of her IG account between the moment her contract as a Travel Registered Nurse was over and the moment her company started to be active, reveals a very busy Mediterranean summer, hitting all the possible cliches:

Before ending that contract, even, some days in Paris with her real interest, (again) checking all the tourist/romantic tropes you can imagine, from dining at the Au pied de cochon restaurant to having a quick macaron bite in the Luxembourg Gardens...

... then off to Paros, a posh island Greek destination, very much in vogue with the creative crowd, followed by (we are talking mandatory island hopping, here) Mykonos (unapologetically posh and very expensive, LGBTQ+ friendly destination - also beloved by the glam and glitz crowd)

Oh, hello Soho Roc House, part of the Soho Houses network - rings a bell? What a small world, really.

... a couple of days in Rome, followed by some quality family time (Mom and Pop, at a minimum) in Puglia, then Croatia (again, the glam crowd of Hvar island), back to Paris for a girls' trip (Montmartre, the Eiffel Tower and a couple other spots in the Marais and around the Rue de Rivoli - cliche forever):

... then back in Rome for cacio e pepe pasta, Piazza Navona and the Pantheon oculus (artsy girl, told you), followed by Positano and Capri (with Mom and Dad, again). Nothing to write home about, but still trying to sell herself as an up and coming influencer of sorts, perhaps.

Nowhere near S for the entire 2023 Sassenach Summer Tour. How is this equating with dating, that is really beyond me. Seriously. For instance, just before the second sighting, in NYC (June 10, 2023), she was having fun in the Algarve region and Lisbon (of course, Portugal). Probably posted those pics upon her return to NYC:

Dating? More like convenient pretext. He knew people would hang around that hotel (fans, autograph hunters, etc), especially during OL promo peak time. And he knew someone will take that pic, which was then conveniently placed in *urv's lap, for lengthy talks and more innuendo. Just as the first sighting was conveniently placed in Marple's inbox, to see if topic garners interest and sticks around/can be reused for further shits and giggles. Innuendo and nothing more would be my best bet: neither *urv, nor Marple had ANY positive idea about who she was, back at the time.

And now, the third drop was again placed in Marple's inbox, because attention had to be redirected to this particular gossip topic, in rather dire circumstances following Lauren 1.0.

And for your information, she does not follow S and he does not follow her. But he follows her newly opened joint: hangovers are a bitch, I know.

Why? I think it is clear enough why.

Who dunnit? I will let you draw your own conclusions, really. Again, it is rather plain to see. My belief is that this is not TPTB. And for once, I do not think he met her via Raya. Nope.

I took one for the team and listened to that podcast (if you are very foolish or brave or foolishly brave, you can do the same here: https://youtu.be/vBmcnhe2kwg?si=rRu5YCLHS3eZhuFs ). I mean, what is WRONG with those women? That is legit 14 year old bullshit talk about relationships (or the immature impossibility to have a satisfying one). They essentially explain in that podcast they have trouble decoding 'the man' in some relationships and the way they play out. I was laughing so violently my abs (or lack of them) hurt. At some point, I even thought it was some sort of sophisticated second degree, but NO (#cringe).

Also, I think I should be burning my pineapple pajama summer pants. Seriously. If you listen to the whole bullshit, you'll see there is no damn way to substantiate anything based on that. Zero connection.

#fandom #shitshow #Lauren 2.0

96 notes · View notes

waight-gain · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 9: A Winter of Indulgence

Dylan & Simon

Winter break had turned out to be more indulgent than Dylan had ever imagined. From the moment they arrived at his parents' house, Linda had made it her mission to keep both Dylan and Bob well-fed. Every day brought a new feast—pancake breakfasts dripping with syrup, casseroles and rich soups for lunch, and hearty dinners followed by decadent desserts. It seemed that Linda had discovered a newfound passion for baking, constantly pulling trays of cookies, pies, and cakes out of the oven.

Dylan had been surprised by the sheer amount of sugar that suddenly appeared in the house. Growing up, his mom had been strict about their diet, refusing to keep any sweets around, insisting that they stay in peak physical condition for sports. Now, however, it was as if she had undergone a complete transformation. She had a gleam in her eye every time she offered another treat, and Dylan couldn’t help but indulge, especially with Simon’s encouraging presence.

Over the weeks, Dylan’s weight gain became increasingly apparent. His new clothes, which he had bought in hopes of concealing his growing belly, were quickly outgrown. The jeans that had fit snugly around his hips now bit into his sides, the waistband digging into his softened flesh. His shirts, which he had hoped would drape casually over his midsection, instead clung to every new curve, stretching taut over the swell of his belly.

Simon watched this transformation with quiet delight. Every extra bite Dylan took, every cookie or slice of pie he accepted from his mother, seemed to make Simon’s eyes light up with an almost reverent appreciation. Dylan could feel Simon’s gaze on him whenever they were around his parents, and every night, as they lay together in bed, Simon’s hands would find their way to Dylan’s belly, caressing it with a tenderness that made Dylan’s heart race.

On the last day of their visit, Dylan stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection in disbelief. His belly had grown even rounder, pushing out in a soft dome that strained against the fabric of his shirt. The waistband of his jeans bit into his sides, cutting into the flesh that spilled over the top. He tugged at the shirt, trying to stretch it down to cover his exposed skin, but it was no use—the material was stretched to its limit.

Simon entered the room, catching sight of Dylan’s reflection. His eyes immediately zeroed in on the swell of Dylan’s belly, his lips curling into a small, appreciative smile. "Looking good," Simon teased, walking over to wrap his arms around Dylan from behind. He pressed his body against Dylan’s back, his hands coming to rest on the soft, rounded curve of his stomach. "You’ve been enjoying yourself, haven’t you?"

Dylan let out a nervous chuckle, his hands instinctively moving to cover Simon’s, feeling the warmth of Simon’s touch against his skin. "I guess I have," he admitted, his voice beaming with pride. "I’ve definitely… grown."

Simon nuzzled his neck, his breath warm against Dylan’s skin. "I love it," he murmured, his hands sliding lower to cup the underside of Dylan’s belly, feeling the way it bulged outward against the tight waistband of his jeans. "You’re so soft now… so big."

Dylan’s heart raced at Simon’s words, a shiver of excitement running through him. "Yeah, I am," he said, his voice growing huskier as he leaned back into Simon’s embrace. "But I’m not sure my clothes agree."

Simon chuckled, giving Dylan’s belly a gentle squeeze. "I guess we’ll just have to get you some new ones." He pulled away slightly, turning Dylan around to face him. "But first, we should say our goodbyes."

Dylan nodded, though a part of him was reluctant to leave the warmth and comfort of his parents’ house. He had grown used to the constant food, the easy indulgence, and most of all, the way Simon looked at him now—with a mixture of admiration and desire that made Dylan feel more attractive than he ever had before.

They made their way downstairs, where Linda and Bob were waiting for them by the door. Linda pulled Dylan into a tight hug, patting his back with a satisfied smile. "You take care of yourself, okay?" she said, winking at Simon. "And don’t be a stranger. We’ll be expecting you and Simon back here soon."

"Thanks, Mom," Dylan said, his voice soft as he hugged her back. "For everything."

Bob gave him a firm handshake, though there was a knowing look in his eyes. "Don’t worry about the weight, son," he said in a low voice, his hand resting briefly on Dylan’s shoulder. "Life’s too short to stress over a few extra pounds. You look happy—that’s what matters."

Dylan felt a wave of relief wash over him at his dad’s words. "Thanks, Dad."

As Linda hugged Simon she whispered, "Thank you for taking care of Dylan, I haven't seen him this happy, truly happy in a long time."

After a round of hugs and farewells, they finally made their way to the car. As they pulled out of the driveway, Dylan turned to Simon, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hey, I’ve been thinking," he began, his voice tentative. "Maybe… when we get back to campus, you could move in with me?"

Simon’s eyes widened slightly, a smile spreading across his face. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice full of excitement.

"Yeah," Dylan replied, his own smile growing. "I mean, we’re practically living together already. I’d just like to make it official, you know?"

Simon’s grin widened, and he leaned over to press a kiss to Dylan’s cheek. "I’d love to," he said, his voice full of warmth. "I’d love to move in with you."

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

When they arrived back at Dylan’s apartment, Simon couldn’t wait to see just how much Dylan had grown. The idea had been brewing in his mind for days, and now, as they stood in the bedroom surrounded by piles of luggage, he finally spoke up.

"Hey," Simon said, his voice casual but his eyes glinting with mischief. "How about you try on some of your clothes from the start of the semester?"

Dylan blinked, looking at Simon in surprise. "You mean, like, my old clothes?" He glanced down at his belly, which was still swollen from the meal his Mom insisted they had before leaving, straining against his already tight shirt. "I don’t know if they’ll fit."

"That’s kind of the point," Simon replied, his smile turning playful as he pulled open the closet. "I want to see just how much you’ve grown."

Dylan hesitated for a moment before shrugging. "Alright," he said, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Let’s see what happens."

He dug through the closet, pulling out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that he hadn’t worn since the start of the semester. Simon watched with rapt attention as Dylan stripped down to his underwear, his belly jutting out prominently now that it was free from the constraints of his clothes.

Dylan tugged the t-shirt over his head, struggling to pull it down over his belly. The fabric stretched taut across his chest, clinging to his soft, rounded midsection. The shirt barely covered his navel, and with each movement, it rode up higher, exposing a sliver of skin that made Simon’s breath catch in his throat.

"God, look at you," Simon murmured, his eyes fixed on the way the shirt clung to Dylan’s body. "You’re so big." He handed Dylan a short sleeve button up shirt, clearly slim fit and meant to show off his previous toned body.

Dylan’s cheeks flushed, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. "Yeah," he said, his voice low as he reached for the shorts. "I guess I am." He sucked in as much as he could, barely able to get the shirt closed.

He tried to pull the shorts up over his hips, but they were so tight that they barely made it past his thighs. He laid on the bed, trying to minimize his girth. Finally he buttoned them, the waistband dug into his softened flesh, and when he finally managed to button them, the pressure against his belly was almost unbearable. The button strained, pulling the fabric tight across his midsection as his belly bulged out over the top.

Simon’s eyes were wide with admiration, his breath coming in short gasps as he watched Dylan struggle with the tight clothes. "You’re incredible," he whispered, stepping closer to run his hands over Dylan’s stomach. "Look at how much you’ve grown."

Dylan let out a soft groan as he stood up, feeling the tightness of the fabric straining against the swell of his midsection. "I don’t think these clothes are going to last much longer," he said, his voice husky with excitement.

"Let’s find out," Simon replied, as he helped Dylan off the bed. Dylan relaxed, the shirt button straining, tight, then exploding open. The shorts held a moment longer, audibly creaking until finally bursting apart as Dylan’s belly pushed forward, freed from its confinement. The zipper slid down, the shorts falling open as Dylan’s stomach bulged out even more, the skin stretched tight and smooth.

"That’s better," Simon murmured, his fingers trailing along the edge of Dylan’s belly where it spilled out over the waistband. "You’re so big, Dylan… so full."

Dylan’s breath hitched as Simon’s hands continued to explore, his fingers tracing every curve and contour of his bloated stomach. The pressure against his midsection was intense, the tightness making every touch, every caress, feel more acute.

Simon’s gaze flicked up to meet Dylan’s, his eyes dark with desire. "Let’s see what else we can do," he whispered, his hands moving to the hem of Dylan’s shirt. He tugged it upward, exposing more of Dylan’s belly, the fabric stretching and straining over his large frame.

47 notes · View notes

lucy-phel · 10 months ago

Text

🦋She's a lady and I'm just a silly boy🦋

_______

_It's been a week since Pinocchio felt a strange sensation, he looked at you with so much admiration and affection, watching you dance the waltz was so perfect, he normally sat while Antônia He dictated the dance steps and you followed them perfectly, sometimes Venigni danced with you, and sometimes P seemed to dream about what it would be like to dance this dance with you.

But you were a lady and he was just a dreamy boy, you were such a skilled doll, you seemed to float when you danced so beautifully in that room, it had been a long time since he was sitting looking there?, even though he spent so much time, he never got tired, sometimes he daydreamed, dreamed of holding you in his arms and twirling you around like a ballerina.

Antônia smiles and praises your performance, you did so well, you improved so much, you in turn smile and thank you like in the theater, then your eyes run around the room until they meet Pi's, who seemed immersed in thoughts, you smile and wave at him, surprising him, he just responds to your wave and returns it, blessed be his creator, you say goodbye to Antônia and him with a simple and polite gesture and go up To his room, Pinocchio sighs with a pink pigment on his cheeks, Antônia lets out a slight weak laugh and questions Pinocchio.

_tell me dear, why don't you confess to her? I see you watching her every day, but you never ask her to dance or even talk to her....

Antonia's calm and melodious voice catches Pinocchio's attention, his eyes widening, his cheeks burning.

I don't know ..

Pinocchio looks down with shame and uncertainty, sighing and standing up...

She's a lady, and I'm just a naive boy... I'd better just daydream...

A sigh escaped Antonia, looking back at the painting, oh will he be able to put his shame aside and confess? Or will it be too late... You are a lady and he can be yours Knight, But for now he will have to be content with dreams of the two of you dancing

#lies of p #pinocchio #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader

105 notes · View notes

rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year ago

Text

One Step Closer

Prince Rielle x Female Reader

Masterlist

A dance is like a conversation Except your lips don't ever need to part And once you've begun You speak as one Cheek to cheek Toe to toe Heart to heart - Prince Eric, The Little Mermaid Broadway Musical

Despite being a merman prince having only just gained legs a few months ago, he was much more agile on his feet than you could ever dream to be. With your hand clasped in his, he merrily dragged you around the market from stall to stall, sight to sight, attraction to attraction - being physically unable to remain in one place for more than half a minute before something else caught his eye, almost gliding across the cobbled streets to sate his childlike wonder.

It’s a wondrous feeling, being in the presence of a philocalist who would gaze at the most mundane objects with starry-eyed reverence. You couldn’t but let fondness overcome you as he bounded here and there, fluffy waves of crimson locks bouncing with every spring of his steps. Making friends with someone as animated as The Sea King’s youngest was one of your favourite parts of visiting NRC. He was so enthusiastic, so lively and carried such a zest for life and appreciation for everything that it was impossible to not hold at least a little fondness. He welcomed you to RSA with warm open arms, seconds after meeting you and there was never a moment where you were at a loss for words since he was so ready to gush about anything and everything and listen to you, completely enthralled - even in silence he had the ability to fill the room with vibrant colours - so accepting his and Neige’s invitation to a surprise outing was as easy as those pies the fair, ebony haired boy loved to make.

To be honest, you could understand his fascination. Being a metaphorical fish out of water yourself, your adventures in this world were one surprise after another (some good surprises and others not so much to say the least). And it wasn’t like the landscape was anything to scoff at - the organisers of this festival clearly knew what they were doing.

Bouquets of rainbow-hued flowers were tied up in bunches on street lamps and rows of blossoms were lining the roads. Kaleidoscopic bunting soared above you, their polychromatic bundles fluttering from where they were tied securely onto the sleek black street lamps that lined the streets. Every inch of this fete was something out of a picture book and paired with the beautiful weather, you could spend hours just drinking it all in.

You let your eyes skim through the stalls, looking for any souvenirs you could purchase for your friends back in NRC. You felt guilty enough saying goodbye to the Ramshackle ghosts and Ace and Deuce an hour before you left for your weeklong transfer to RSA but having this much fun without them felt almost foreign (Grim, who had been your companion in said transfer, seemed absolutely hunky dory about leaving NRC, as he was gleefully imbibing any food he came across). Besides, they were most likely well aware of you visiting the festival near their rival school’s campus if they saw the selfie Neige had posted with you and his friend group about an hour ago.

“So,” Rielle’s bubbly voice chirped, from where he had appeared next to you, eyes coruscating, “what do you think?”

“It’s all so amazing,” you marvelled, “I can’t think of any words to say - everything is just so unbelievable.”

“That's alright!” he laughed, clasping both of your hands in his, his starry, wide-eyed grin matching your own, “who needs words? Dancing beats small talk any day. Come on.”

He pulled you to an empty path of land, away from the bustling crowds and laughing children, removed from the festival-goers sight but still close enough to hear the joyful melody of the live band that was playing. Without saying a word he twirled you around, laughing at your surprised yelp.

“I’m-I’m not much of a dancer, Rielle,” you say to him.

He merely grins at your response, “that’s alright, neither am I. We don’t have dancing in my kingdom - not the way people on the surface do. I watched these humans dance once - I think Neige told me it’s called ballet up here - and it was so beautiful that I went crying to my brothers because I wanted two fins. So when my dad let me go to RSA and I got these legs, the first thing I tried to do was learn how to dance and well - let’s just say that dancing and walking are two very different things.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his pink-faced sheepish smile.

“Anyway,” he gathered himself, “I learned somewhere down the line that dancing is less of a movement and more of a language - only you feel it instead of speaking it. You need to use your emotions to tell you what to do and when you start moving and let the music wash away your inhibitions, you start expressing yourself in ways your words can’t.”

“So Y/N,” he holds out a hand, “would you like to have a conversation with me?”

Tentatively, you placed your palm in his and let him twirl and sway and waltz with you. And when you find yourself being lifted in the air and spun around, the skirt of your dress flaring around you as joyous laughter overcomes you, you wonder if this dance could last a little longer.

#twst rielle #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fem reader

213 notes · View notes