#almost teared up thinking about how much i love women and how happy i am to accept that earlier

[napping-sapphic]

There really is something so magical about loving women for me like i love getting passing crushes and thinking someone is beautiful or handsome or cute, a girl can make me blush once and i’ll feel like im floating for the rest of the week

[martinmuhl]

⋆✧˚ ༘ i love you, im sorry

pair: caitlin clark x reader

warnings: none!

summary: you’ve been in a secret relationship with caitlin and you’ve finally had enough

hi loves! i don’t know why i wrote this lmao i was feeling angsty but dw there’s a happy ending :) i hope yall enjoy love u!!

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

“i wasn’t saying we go public now, cait. i was just asking if you thought we could sometime soon,” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“god y/n, you know this stresses me out. i don’t know what to tell you, i can’t predict when we’ll go public. i just need time.” she covers her face with her hands, sighing.

you and caitlin had been dating for almost a year now, in private. the two of you had met back at iowa where you’d been a manger for the women’s basketball team and she’d been a player. the plan was to come out together as a couple after she graduated, but once that happened, caitlin was too nervous about the worlds opinion of her. then she said she would include your relationship in her draft speech, but she was too afraid. she was the #1 draft pick of course and more eyes than ever had tuned into her and the wnba. she kept telling you that after her first season, your guys’ secret could be shared. but the more and more you waited, the more and more exhausted you became keeping up with this secret. you started to think you’d have to live this way forever.

“i understand cait, i just hate living this way. i want to show you off and take you out on real dates. you are so important to me and i just hate hiding this part of my life,” you sigh. her face turned red, anger creeping onto it.

“i am the biggest name in the wnba right now, what do you expect me to do? you know i love you, but all eyes are on me and this could ruin my reputation. i’m in the running for rookie of the year, y/n, i need to focus on that.” she exclaims, throwing her arms into a shrug.

you felt a tear fall. this could ruin my reputation, she had said. “oh i’m so sorry that i could ruin your reputation. maybe you should’ve thought of that before asking me to move here and spend my life with you. you say you love me, but you’re a coward. is that how you want to live your life? hiding who you are? you told me we’d go public once we graduated, but that didn’t happen. then draft night and that didn’t happen either. what now? what about what i want? i understand that you’re under the public eye more than ever right now, but i wont sit around and wait forever.” you stand up, making your way toward your shared bedroom.

“where are you going? can we please just talk about this? i promise we’ll go public at the end of the season.” caitlin follows you and sees you packing a bag.

“i’m going to stay with lauren for a bit, i guess i just need some time too.” you say, shoveling clothes into the bag. maybe staying with your sister was best for you right now. you understood caitlin, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t break your heart a little more every time she went back on her word. you knew coming out wasn’t easy and especially when everyone was watching her, but you hated being led on. you loved her so much and couldn’t imagine your life without her, but if she was going to keep you hidden forever then you just couldn’t do it.

“please y/n, don’t go. i love you.” she pleads, grabbing your arm and trying to stop you for walking out the door. you rip your arm away.

“i love you too, but i deserve better than being your secret. i wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation,” you say with a sad smile and walk out the door. you truly loved her more than anything in this world, but when she went back on her word so much it was hard to trust her. you knew how hard this was on her, but it was hard on you too.

a few days after your argument, caitlin had tried to reach out everyday. you told her you needed some space and you’d talk to her when you were ready. caitlin on the other hand was going insane, worrying every second of the day. you were the best thing that had happened to her and she just let you get away like that? no, it wasn’t right. this wasn’t how you ended. caitlin knew that you were beginning to not trust her anymore, she was just so afraid of what everyone else would say. she felt exactly how you felt though. she was exhausted and was suffocating. she hated hiding who she was, and even more than that, she hated hiding you. especially every time she was asked if she was seeing anyone and she had to say no, she was focused on basketball. she hated disappointing you. she knew what she had to do. what she needed to do.

you settled on your sisters couch, laptop in your lap with the fever game on. caitlin was playing lights out, earning her first triple double and the first for a rookie. the fever ended up winning with a huge upset against the new york liberty. you were ecstatic for her, but you still felt a massive pit in your stomach due to your argument. nonetheless, she was still the girl you loved and you had to congratulate her.

you: congrats cait, i’m so proud of you

cait<3: thank you baby, i’m so sorry again. tune in for my post game interview?

you: of course

you turn on her post game interview, her sitting beside her teammate aliyah and her coach. they answered the standard questions, caitlin answering a few more because of her triple double. you can’t help but smile and feel proud of how hard she works. she deserves this. although you’re still upset with her, you can’t help but feel like you may have been a bit selfish. she has worked so hard for this moment and you didn’t want your relationship to become the big headline instead of her talent. sighing, you grab your phone to text her as her interview ends. then you hear her voice.

“wait. uh before we go, i just have something i want to say. i am so grateful for my teammates, coaches, and fans support, but none of this would be possible without the support of my girlfriend. our relationship is the most important thing in my life and i’ve been hiding it because i was scared… but im not scared anymore. i want to show her off and i want everyone to know her like i know her because she is amazing. y/n, if you’re watching this and i really hope you are, i love you and i really hope i see you at home,” she finishes with a smile. then she walks out. the room goes dead silent before the interview ends and the camera shuts off.

you were speechless. you couldn’t believe she just did that. everybody would know about the two of you now. after staring at your screen for what feels like an eternity in shock, you grab your bag and dash out of your sisters apartment. you quickly arrive back at your and caitlin’s apartment, sprinting up the stairs. you rush into the apartment and see caitlin sitting on the couch, hands covering her face. once she hears you open the door, she stands and takes a deep breath.

“cait i… i don’t know what to say. are you okay? im so sorry, i never meant to pressure you! your career is important and we can wait until-“ the words come flying out of your mouth, but she cuts you off. you are undoubtedly happy that you can finally live freely with her, but you still feel some guilt as she walks over to where you’re standing.

“baby just stop. you were right. you didn’t pressure me to do anything. i was a coward and i was miserable keeping us a secret. i love you and im so sorry for saying you would ruin my reputation. you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and i want you and everybody else to know that. the world deserves to know my beautiful girl, just like i do.” she breathes, putting her hands on your shoulders to bring you closer. she engulfs you into her arms and you release a sigh of relief, mumbling an i love you into her neck. as nervous as you were to check social media and see what everyone was saying, the two of you felt the happiest you’d been and you couldn’t wait to share each other with the world.

[yeonmuse]

WHICH FLOOR? | Day 14

PAIRING vocalist & drummer mingi x stranger reader

WORD COUNT | 1.4k

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️

SUMMARY two complete strangers meet in an elevator, how could this possibly escalate?

MORE | Day 14 of the Groupie Love Series

You were completely fucking exhausted, a night of concerts, drinking and afterparties had you completeky beat. You were more than happy the moment you stepped into the elevator of your hotel. As you close your eyes for a moment of rest, and lie your head against the elevator wall you could sense the presence of someone else stepping onto the elevator. It's when you hear the doors close and you feel the movement of the elevator that you open your eyes and they land on him who had already been staring at you.

That someone was none other than song mingi, one of the hottest drummers to ever grace the stage. The very drummer that you had just seen perforning hours ago.

“Which floor?”

“Hm?” You had been a little too busy checking him out to even register a thing that he had been saying. Of course it didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“You didn’t press anything, what floor are you on?”

“15.” You respond dryly, trying to brush off the fact that you wanted absolutely nothing more than to jump his bones right now. As he pressed the number to you he seemed to observe you for a moment.

“You look like you had a fun night.”

“Do i?”

“Mm looks like it to me, otherwise it's just a waste of an outfit.” He responds, drinking you in from head to toe.

“Mm i wouldn’t call your concert and street party a waste, thanks to your band i had a good time.”

“Oh? Too bad I didn’t see you there, I think I could have elevated your time a little more.”

“Is that right? Even with all your groupies lined up at your door?”

“Kinda disappointing that you yourself weren’t one of them” It was like he was challenging you to bite back, and one thing about you you never backed down from a challenge.

“Mm sorry but I prefer your lead guitarist, though I am truly flattered.” He chuckles at your response and Before you had known it he had stopped the elevator and caged you between himself and the wall.

“I’m sure with a little alone time I can change your mind.” He gave you no time to resist, not that you would anyways, the way your fingers tangled in his hair almost instantaneously gave him all the confirmation he needed.

He wasted no time tearing off your clothes and lifting you against the wall before going between your thighs. He eyed your every reaction as he slid his tongue through your folds, his eyes flickering with a desperate hunger as he became overwhelmed with the heat of your body and the sweet sounds that left your lips. As your eyes met his and you spotted that cocky smirk on his lips, part of you wanted to pull away. To not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you feeling quite weak. With a soft chuckle he immediately pulled his face from between your legs and licked his lips. He could tell you were struggling with your desires along with your urge to spite him. He knew very well you were annoyed with how confident he was in the way he could make you crumble, you knew he must have done this countless times with countless women but honestly you couldn’t care less.

“Still thinking about hongjoong?” a devilish smirk covered his lips and as he leaned down to slide his tongue over your thigh he felt your body jerk beneath him. His long tongue slipped between your folds as he eyed you continue to struggle with your thoughts. You couldn’t believe that even when he had you in such a compromising position he was bringing up his band mate.

“Go on angel, tell me how much you like him yeah? Is he your favorite sweetheart?” Before you could manage even one word his lips wrapped around your lips and he began to suck at your clit. This earned a frustrated moan from you, when he treated your body in such ways there was no way you’d let out any words that were remotely coherent.

“I’m waiting doll, let me hear it.” His tongue began to lap at your folds like he was hungry for it. his nails digging into your thighs with every whine or moan of pleasure that spilled from your lips. It made him hungrier for it, hungrier to hear you crying and begging beneath him.

When he was met with continued silence he removed his lips from your soaked cunt to kiss along your thighs. His teeth grazed the skin of your inner thighs earning a whimper on your part. A whimper that didn’t go unnoticed by him caused him to do it again. His eyes remained trained on your face as he continued to tease your body with his teeth and tongue alone. He felt your grip on his hair tighten

"Quit playing with me and just fuck me already, you’re going to do it whether I like him or not right?.'' You could practically feel the smirk on his lips against your thigh.

“I’ll make sure to train you well enough that any time you even look at him you’ll only think about the way I fucked you in this elevator.”

“He’s certainly hard to forget-” before you could even finish you felt him push past your entrance stretching you out until he fully bottomed out inside you. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach

“Go on, finish your sentence doll.” He continued to jerk his hips up into you knowing that if he kept at it you wouldn’t be able to say a word.

He watched the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“Funny, the moment you get stuffed like a pretty little cocksleeve you immediately go mute.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he immediately spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back against your chest. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt if any had gone away. He wasted no time fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars.

Your nails dug into the only available surface they could latch onto; his shoulders. He watched as your mouth fell open, lines of saliva dripping down your chin as gargled moans spilled past your lips.

“Fuck.” The sound of your desperate cries and stifled moans spilling from your lips was like heaven. He immediately leans down to take your nipple between his lips while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the flicking of his tongue against your breasts every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push.

“Look at you pretty girl, you like him so much yet here you are taking my dick like some sort of cockslut, do you think he’d still fuck you if he knew his bandmate got to you first?” Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“I bet you’d like to get tossed around by us right? You don’t really have a favorite do you? Such a pretty little whore gonna cum all over my cock, all while thinking about how all of us could use you.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for him to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. Your legs shook violently as his thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock along with the desk in mere seconds. Mingi wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way your tight cunt clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill his load into you.

“Tomorrow.” He tilts your head up and brushes his thumb over your swollen lips.

“I check out tomorrow, be ready to go by 8 o'clock. The others wouldn’t mind if you tagged along for the rest of the tour.”

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Lord Husband (Chapter 10)

cregan stark x reader

A/N: I keep forgetting I exist. Sorry this is short oopsies

WORD COUNT: 982 words

series masterlist

You hardly see him for weeks. Any new wife would expect her husband to impress his needs upon her frequently after the wedding night in hopes of creating an heir but you almost knew he wouldn’t. There’s something so strange about Cregan Stark; he’s empathetic. It’s not a trait you knew any man could hold. In reality, you should be pleased that your husband doesn’t wish to rape you but you’re more frustrated. He shall want for a son eventually, won’t he? This is only delaying the inevitable and you are a ‘get it over with’ kind of woman.

You arrive at his chambers with little more than a knock on the door. “Do you not wish for an heir, Lord Stark?”

“Good morning.” He murmurs, looking up from the papers on his desk.

“An heir? Is it your wish or not?” You say, disregarding his greeting.

He sighs, already stressed from reading over land disputes and not wishing to be stressed over his petulant wife. “Of course I want for a son.”

“You haven’t visited my chambers in weeks.”

“I did not think you wanted me to.” He looks at you, confused and a bit sorrowful.

“There is only one way to make a child.”

Gods he thinks you look so like a child when you stand there with such false assurance. It makes him feel wretched.

“You weeped the last time I took you to bed. I have been trying to give you time so that you might… recover?” The words don’t feel right to him. “I don’t want to cause you pain.”

“Lying with you caused me no feelings of importance.”

Cregan counts to ten in his head but only makes it to five. He then stands abruptly.

“You will watch your tone when you speak to me!” He says, fed up with your lack of decorum.

You gape at him like a fish. He went from so pitiful to angry so quickly.

“I have done all I can to make you comfortable, all I can to make you feel welcomed and at every turn, you insult me! You have spent your entire life as the spoilt daughter of the Queen and for that, I do not blame you but I can only be so lenient. You will no longer take liberties with how you speak to me. I am your husband and you will learn to treat me as such.” He breathes heavily after letting all his emotions go. “Even princesses don’t speak to their spouses in the way you speak to me.”

“I’m not your wife by choice. I didn’t want this.” You protest in justification of your own cruelty.

He scoffs. “And do you think I did?”

“You asked for my hand.”

“Her Grace offered me your hand.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“Is that truly what you think? Are you really so naive as to believe that? Everyone of our station marries for advantage. I am no different and neither are you.” Even when he shouted at you only moments ago, he never sounded as hateful as he does right now.

“And you’re happy with this standard?” You ask with level headed contemplation.

“Of course I’m not but it’s what is done.”

“It isn’t fair for you to fault me for wanting something more when you’re also unhappy with it… especially when you know it’s more difficult for women than men.” You desperately want him to understand you. You just want somebody to understand.

“We all make sacrifices for the people we love.” He says dutifully.

“I make the sacrifices while my brothers marry for love. How is that fair?”

“So you’re bitter? Prince Jacaerys will be king one day. That’s a much greater sacrifice than marrying for advantage.”

The tears prickle in your eyes. You should’ve known.

“At least he won’t be alone.”

You don’t want to argue anymore, or rather be scolded like a dumb child so you leave, striding back to your room.

You stare into the mirror when you arrive. Would your mother be disappointed by how disagreeable you are, how disobedient? Daemon wouldn’t. But you aren’t Daemon Targaryen. You’re just a girl, a girl that might ruin an alliance if you can’t make nice with your husband. Should you care? Your stepfather wouldn’t. Dragon riders don’t obey societal norms… but you do care… ever so slightly.

~~~

A voice at the door. Does he want to be let in only so he can say a hundred words that mean so little?

“Enter.”

Your husband, tall and strong walks into the room, reminding you of someone you used to know. He’s kind and brave like him.

“I should not have shouted at you. I just feel as though I’m not heard when I’m quiet but that is no justification.” He stares at the back of your head. You don’t turn to face him, looking out the window instead of at the mirror. This is your home now. He will become your home - he could become your home.

“If I walked out the door right now and never came back, would you try and stop me?” You aren’t angry about his shouting; you’re used to fire.

“No.”

“It would destroy the alliance. You could side with the Hightowers or simply just watch as they take my mother’s throne.”

“You could walk out that door, get on your dragon and never come back and I would keep my oath to the Queen.”

Gods he really is decent.

“Where would you go?” He asks like you haven’t just said you might run out on your marriage.

“Old Valyria.”

“You would die.”

“I would.”

“I’m not sorry for making things difficult for you but I acknowledge that I have.”

He smiles a bit woefully. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, princess.”

“Any woman in Westeros would consider herself lucky to be your wife.”

“Hmm… almost any it seems.”

Comment to be added to taglist

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Bridal Shop ft Nanami Kento

Rating: 18+, MDNI Warnings: Sex, vaginal and clitoral fingering, oral Featuring: Nanami Kento x female reader Word Count: 2590 Summary: A final dress fitting leads to something else when the bridal shop owner takes over your appointment A/N: All images are from pinterest. Inspiration for the wedding dress was this. Also, much thanks to the talented @aliasnnmknt for making a lovely piece of art for this fic!

Nanami masterlist

You skipped merrily into the bridal shop, ready for the final fitting. The wedding was only 2 weeks away. A healthy pink glow was visible on your face. Most would say it’s because your wedding day is approaching. Your best friend would tease you that it’s because of the bridal shop owner.

The sweet old woman who had assisted you during your first fitting spots you immediately and waves you over to her. She grasps your hands with wrinkled knotted hands and smiles brightly at you. “Not too long now…You must be very excited!”

“Indeed I am!” You chirp back excitedly. “Will it be a while or…?”

“Not at all! We’re ready for you now. On straight through to the back. Fitting room 2.”

You thank the woman and waltz back into the stall. Not too shortly after the tailor comes in, exchanging warm greetings with you, asking you how wedding planning was going, as she carefully helps you fit into the dress, gently buttoning up the pearl fastenings on the back as she fusses with the skirt, whirling it out around you. Your breath catches as you look at yourself in the mirror.

The dress had been fitted perfectly, the waistline pure perfection to the last millimeter. With the tulle and illusion sleeves, it was like right out of a dream. You feel yourself tear up as you see yourself in the mirror. It was so pretty, beyond your imagination. Ever prepared, the tailor quickly offers you a tissue and a gentle smile. 

“I’ll let you have a moment. Let it all soak in. Let me know when you’re ready to have it taken off.” The tailor exits quietly through the door. You spin around, admiring yourself from all angles. You’re so happy you listened to your fiance when he had insisted on going with this one. 

A fairy tale dress for a princess, he had said. Your smile widens as you do one last twirl. You hear the handle of the fitting room rattle, and turn to tell the tailor you’re ready to change, then freeze when you see who’s standing in the doorway.

Sharp brown eyes look at you with such intensity that you blush. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

His mouth curves into a soft smile as he takes in the sight of you in your wedding dress. The owner of the bridal shop was quite a striking man, with his physique, styled blonde hair, and impressive height. 

“I wasn’t aware that you visited brides during their fittings.” Your mouth had gone dry. He looked so immaculate in tailored pants and a waistcoat, shirt fitting beautifully to his broad shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing corded, well toned forearms. 

He chuckles at your comment, then steps in, locking the door behind him. Your heart skips a beat and you almost miss his next words over the rush of blood in your ears. 

“Never. But this dress…I have a special affinity for it.”

He stands right behind you, admiring you in the mirror. His eyes rove over the small details of the dress, the little plunge of the neckline, almost modest, between your breasts, the cups of the dress pushing them up flatteringly. 

Nanami Kento was a heartthrob in this locality. Who wouldn’t notice the handsome bridal shop owner? Women were known to wander into the shop to catch a glimpse at him, pretending to be window shopping. Many a bride had blushed as he walked with them through the shop, pulling gowns and asking questions about their dress preferences, giggling as he politely asked to see their rings. 

“Yes…I think this last fitting was much needed. Look at how flattering it looks on your body now.” His large hands softly rest on your waist as you feel rushes of heat run through you. You try your best to not look at the mirror, lest he see how flustered you were getting. His cologne was filling your senses, a deep musky scent that added a forbidden allure. 

“I was right in thinking this lace would look flattering on you.” One of his hands moves towards your front, his long fingers gently tracing the line of fabric near your collarbone, sending skitters of electricity through you. Your heart thumps in your chest as you try to keep your composure.

“Ah…thank you.” You manage to say. “You do have a good eye for what looks best.” You can hear how your voice has taken on a breathy quality and try to focus. You had plans after this, meeting with your bridesmaids for dinner. 

Nanami smiles at your praise, then says, so close to your ear, “Why aren’t you wearing any jewelry today? Apart from your ring I mean.”

His breath makes you tingle with need, making you tongue tied, words stumbling over each other. “I-ah-ahem. Should I be wearing…jewelry?”

“You should. Most brides wear a necklace after a fitting to make sure it doesn’t clash with the neckline.” His fingers creep up from your collarbone to the hollow at the base of your throat and your breath catches. 

“And earrings,” he adds, his other hand abandoning your waist to gently massage your bare earlobe. You feel uncomfortable heat starting to gather between your thighs and resist the urge to lean back against his muscular frame. Your eyes close as he continues to fondle the soft piece of flesh then almost jump out of your skin as his hot breath tickles your other ear.

“Earrings help you figure out if you've chosen the right veil or not.” His lips were practically touching the shell and a strangled gasp leaves your lips.

“You really are the ideal representation of a blushing bride,” Nanami murmurs softly. His hands start to play with your hair, and you swallow, trying to gather the vestiges of your rapidly fading sensibility. 

“Have you decided if you’re wearing your hair up or down?” His fingers swirl the locks of hair flowing down your shoulders, making a loose bun with them at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to process his question, the movements of fingers feeling deliciously seductive. 

“Up.” You didn’t trust yourself to say another word.

He nods, leaning forward to look over your shoulder into the mirror. “I think that’s a good choice. Plays well with your features.” His fingers skim over your cheek which looked positively rosy now.

“Were you done with your fitting?”

You give yourself a little shake mentally. “Yes.” You wished he would stop stroking you so tenderly. You were starting to have thoughts quite opposite to the image of a demure bride. 

“I actually need to call back the tailor to help me with this-”

“No need.” He cuts you off smoothly, leaving no room for objection. “I assume she’s busy. And it’s a small task. I can help you.”

With patience, Nanami starts undoing the small pearl buttons. You stand, embarrassment rising, but unable to resist. He was so charming, eyes focused on his task, while you stole glances at him in the mirror, the sharp, chiseled features of his face, the lovely hue of brown his eyes were. You shiver as air hits your bare skin, his fingers going lower and lower, finally reaching the last few buttons near your waist. He spreads apart the fabric, hands caressing your back. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. 

“Look at me,” he whispers, waiting until your eyes met his before sliding the dress off your shoulders, carefully holding the skirt to avoid wrinkling it, revealing the adorable pink lace bra you had worn in hopes of surprising your fiance later. He grips the bodice carefully and moves away from you.

“Step out.” Nanami’s voice isn’t demanding; it was a request. Feeling like your legs had turned to jello, you lift one leg, then the other, stepping out of the dress before he grabs a hanger to put it away. You can feel your sex throb from need and squeeze your legs together, acutely aware that the matching pink panties must have a stain now from your dripping core. 

Once he’s secured the dress, his attention falls back to you. His eyes stop at your thighs. “No garter to go with the dress?”

You glance up at him shyly. “Are garters part of the dress fitting?”

“They should be,” he murmurs before closing the gap between you, his lips covering yours. The tension that had been building inside you snaps and you respond hungrily, body pressing unashamedly against his, feeling the hard muscles under his clothes. 

“You do look good in pink,” he says in a husky voice as you both break apart, only for him to start placing wet kisses on your neck, his hands expertly snapping open the catch of your bra with the same ease as he did with the buttons on your wedding dress. His large hands cup your breasts, massaging them, before his thumbs rest on the centers of your hardened nipples, moving them in circles, the friction making you feel weak at the knees. Your mouth finds his again, tongues brushing against each other, his fingers softly tweaking and pulling the hardened peaks. Your moans are muffled, lost in the greed of his kiss. 

He pulls back before guiding you over to the chair that sits in the corner of the fitting room, helping you comfortably straddle him, softly suckling on one of your nipples while his hands roam down your back, squeezing your waist, holding you tight as you whimper and moan. His hands eventually slide down to your ass, gripping the fat covetously, before slipping below the scanty lace that covered your pussy.

“Why do brides always abstain from sex a few weeks before the wedding?” Nanami muses as he presses dexterous fingers between your wet folds, making you gasp.  

“I-it’s not-” You choke out, unable to form coherent words.

“Look at this.” There’s a raspy quality to Nanami’s voice as he pulls out his fingers for your inspection, covered with your arousal. “Hardly did anything and you’re already making a mess. Honestly, why do you brides do this to yourselves?”

He licks his fingers clean before gripping you under your thighs, momentarily lifting you up, before standing and seating you on the chair instead. Your legs spread apart wantonly, thoughts of decency thrown out the window. Nanami hooks his index around the fabric covering your crotch, pulling it to the side, spreading apart your glistening labia with his other hand. The tangy scent of need hits his nose and he licks a line up from your entrance to your clit, before laying his tongue over the swollen bud, licking sensually. 

You’re trying your best to muffle your noises and failing spectacularly, moans getting louder and needier as he tenderly alternates between sucking and licking your clit, the variations driving out all reasoning, leaving only primal thoughts in your head. Unashamedly, you grind against his mouth, desperate for a release. You sob with delight as he inserts a finger, followed by a second, stretching you out, making you feel deliciously full. You had been abstaining and didn’t realize how much you had missed it. His fingers curl up into that small patch inside you, matching his movements to the pace of his tongue on your clit. Your hands move involuntarily, pulling at his hair, back arching against the chair as he pushes you over the edge. 

A loud, lewd sound leaves your lips as the orgasm takes over, feeling your pussy spasm pleasurably, clit pulsating, wave after wave racking your system. He doesn’t spare a second, quickly unzipping his trousers and adjusting you before slipping his cock into your wetness. 

You were unprepared for the sudden intrusion, making you gasp in shock as you adjust to his thickness, pussy still fluttering from your climax. Your legs wrap around his waist as he moves closer, almost folding you in half and he starts to thrust into you. 

“Fuck…so tight…looks like abstinence…made your pussy forget…how to take cock…” he says between breaths, his movements so sinfully slow, ensuring you feel every inch of him, taking note of every small spasm your body makes around him. 

You whine at his slow thrusts, needing more. “Kento…”

“Did you need something my dear?” You want to shake him for his ability to sound so polite, like you were having tea together instead of him being buried in your cunt. 

“I need more…please…” You can’t keep the urgency out of your voice. His eyes darken at your request.

“Desperate to cum on my cock are you?” he teases, pulling back until he’s almost about to pull out the tip before slamming back into you, making you moan noisily. His hips snap into you, placing his fingers into your mouth, the unspoken command clear in his eyes; wet them.

You suck his fingers, moistening them with your saliva before he removes them, using the lubrication to rub circles onto your clit. The sensation combined with the force of him fucking into you makes your eyes roll back into your head. You were so close, and judging by his grunts and movements getting sloppier, so was he. 

“Such a sweet bride…you’ll be an even sweeter mother someday…” He pants as he maintains a rhythm, close to his own climax. You feel the familiar feeling of heat and tension building in your belly, coiling like a spring waiting to be set free. Soon enough, a second climax rips through you, stealing the breath from your lungs, your mouth open in a silent scream as it grips you. With a grunt, Nanami’s hips snap forward aggressively and you feel his cock spasm, little twitches inside your pussy as he empties himself into you. 

Sated, both of you pant, trying to catch your breath. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a small pack of tissues, using one to clean up and catch his cum as he slips out of you. He gently runs another one down your slit, cleaning you up as best as he can.

“Not just good for an emotional bride,” he jokes as he wads up the used tissues.

Your muscles ache in protest as he lowers your legs to the floor. He smiles at your state, exhausted, fucked out in the sweetest way possible. Nanami fusses with your hair, trying to bring it back to a state of decency before handing you your bra.

“You’d better hurry up and get dressed. Dinner with the bridesmaids at 7, yeah?”

OUTSIDE THE FITTING ROOM:

The tailor who had been assisting you was relatively new and she was now waiting in the back break room along with the elderly woman who had greeted you earlier. She clicks her tongue impatiently. 

“I saw Mr. Nanami go into the fitting room she was in…should I be concerned?” she asks the older woman.

The wizened lady giggles at her. The tailor frowns. “What? Am I missing something?”

“That’s his fiancee that came in for a fitting. I say let’s give them a few more minutes. I’m sure he’s already helped her put away the gown.” She laughs heartily at the dumbstruck look on the tailor’s face. 

“Wha-but-” the tailor splutters. “Isn’t it bad luck to see the bride in the wedding dress before the wedding?”

“Considering he’s the one that designed it, I think an exception can be made. Now hush and get back out front. There’s other customers that need attending to.”

wedding themed divider by: @/ fairytopea Image 1Image 2Image 3

Support banner by @/cafe kitsune

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑨𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒉 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 7 of Betrayal Summary: How much was he willing to sacrifice to bring her back, and how much will be taken from him as consequence? Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Death of a loved one, Grief, Betrayal

The room was empty when Azriel opened his eyes. It hadn’t been like the last few times he had ‘woken up’, though he didn’t remember those instances much. While the fog hadn’t fully lifted from his mind, he could finally register the things around him. The overwhelming amount of white in the room, accents of gold, the curtains that had been drawn to let less light in, but not enough that he couldn’t tell how Gods damned bright it was outside. 

Day, he was in the Day court. There was no doubt in his mind. But why had he been brought here?

Trying to sit up was difficult. He didn’t feel pain, didn't see any evidence of injuries, but his muscles felt so stiff, and his wings felt like dead weight. 

His stomach dropped at the realization. 

Reaching to feel his wings, he let out a breath when he realized they weren’t numb and with albeit much more effort than usual, he could move them. 

They are coming, they aren’t happy his shadows sang.

A second later the door opened and in walked Madja and Amren, the two he had first seen when he was still in his muddled state. They weren’t as angry looking as before, but that didn’t mean much, because they were certainly still mad.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing, boy?” 

Azriel didn’t answer Amren, he didn’t have an answer, he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“You know very well it was not your place to mess with that kind of magic, Shadowsinger.” Madja said in a much calmer tone, but that didn’t hide the disapproval that counted her words.

He would have been pissed off at the interrogation, would have grumbled at the continued questioning when he had no idea what the hell they were talking about, if he hadn’t seen the bags underneath both their eyes, and the concern and worry manifested into deep frown lines on their faces.

His confusion must have been visible, because their questions stopped and their anger softened, as much as it could for the two women who typically looked angry. “You- you don’t remember?” Amren stuttered.

Amren never stuttered.

“I have no idea what I am being accused of” He answered honestly. 

The two women looked at each other, then back at the Illyrian.

“Maybe we should get Helion in here” Madja said to Amren as she turned around and walked out.

So he was in Day.

“Amren, please, you aren’t one to sugar coat things.” He begged.

She looked at him and sighed, annoyed.

“They won’t be happy I am telling you this. They would want someone with more bedside manner to explain.” “That is why I need you to, you won’t dance around the truth. What happened?” 

She took a breath as she looked for the words, “You… you were in a bad state after the girl’s death, and it seems you got desperate enough to take your own life to stop the pain.”

Azriel felt the harsh reminder like a slap to the face, tears welling up in his eyes.

How had he forgotten about Adelaide’s death, about the hell he had gone through since? 

“Is that why I’m here? Did I…”

“No, no you didn’t, although your stupid actions might very well have gotten you killed.” She snapped. She took another breath as she tried to stop her anger from seeping through.

He had never seen her like this. As much as they were family, as much as he knew she did care for the inner circle, no matter how little she let it show, he knew she wouldn’t have been impacted this much by his attempted, or apparently his almost attempted, suicide. 

“That's when The Walking Dead found you. It's an old book, probably older than me. There is no recorded story to its creation, it's just something that has always been, preying on the desperate, giving them enough hope to try things they never would have had they been in their right mind.”

The book by her casket, the blank pages, the intervention by his family, the fight, the attempted resurrection. It all hit him at once, a wave of horrible emotions. 

She looked away as she saw him realize what he had done, and saw him go through all of those terrible moments once again. She didn’t comfort people, and Azriel wasn’t one who wanted to be comforted, at least not unless it was…

“Is she- Did it- Is Adelaide…” he couldn’t finish the question, couldn’t bear to hear that it had failed, that his last hope of getting her back was gone.

Before Amren could answer, the door opened again. Perfect fucking timing.

The High Lords of Day and Night walked in with urgency. 

Azriel had been so mad at Rhysand last time he had seen him, he tried to kill him for Gods’ sake, Rhys also hadn’t been too pleased at the attempted murder, but when the High Lord looked at his brother, bed bound and confused with tears pooling in his eyes, so utterly helpless, he couldn’t stop himself as he brought his Spymaster into a crushing hug and finally let out the sobs he had been fighting for so long. 

Azriel hadn’t felt this type of affection or even love from his brother for a while, he had been too busy hiding from Rhysand, stewing in his misery and hatred for his oldest friend, but as he sat there, disoriented, scared, hopeless, he couldn’t deny the fact he had to fight the urge to lean into the comfort the male was providing. He couldn’t deny the fact he felt more than just anger and hatred towards Rhysand. 

Still, he pulled back after a few seconds, Rhysand still sobbing as his knees buckled next to Azriel’s bed. 

“I’m sorry, Az. Gods know how sorry I am. I hadn’t realized- how much everything truly hurt until Cassian and Nesta found you had left bed” He had to take a moment as he hiccuped, an absolute mess on the ground, “I thought I-we thought we had finally lost you. I tried to tell myself these past few months that I could live with you hating me, I knew damn well I deserved it and that I hate myself too, that as long as you were still there, I could live like that.”

Rhysand looked into Azriel’s eyes, both brothers' faces covered in tears.

“But then we didn’t know if you were gone, didn’t know if you were still alive, and I realized I couldn’t do it, couldn’t live the rest of my life with the knowledge you hated me until the end.

I made the worst mistake of my life, something I will never forgive myself for. I was too cowardly to realize I couldn’t keep Adelaide and Feyre, and the minute I finally chose, I lost Adelaide forever.”

It was too much, Azriel couldn’t deal with all of this right now. Too many conflicting emotions, too many questions, too many-

“Alright, High Lord, that's enough.” Helion said. “Your Shadowsinger is in distress right now. You both can continue this conversation at a later time.” His voice was kind, understanding of both men’s situations, but his tone left no room for objection. 

“I-alright, I just need you to know how sorry I am, Az. How much I plan to do to right my wrongs, even if you both never forgive me.” Rhysand said as he got up, wiping his eyes. 

You both. He said you both. He didn’t just mean Azriel, he…

“It worked?” He asked with urgency, not replying to his brother's words. 

No one spoke up. “He said ‘you both’, did it work? Is Adelaide alive?” 

Anger bubbled in him as everyone remained quiet, unsure of how to proceed.

“Just tell me, damnit! Stop being cowards!” He yelled, tears continuing to spill. Maybe he misspoke, maybe Azriel got his hopes up just to be crushed once again. It wouldn’t have been the first time The Mother had played a cruel joke on him. 

Helion took a step forward, his calm demeanor gone, replaced by fear, reluctance, misery, and longstanding grief. “Yes, Azriel. She is alive…” The High Lord was still speaking to him, but Azriel couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in his ears, over the spots that blocked his vision as he started breathing heavily, his body unable to process the information. 

She is alive, we saw her, she is alive, she is here his shadows sang. 

He needed to get up to see her. But that task proved impossible as Azriel tried to swing his legs over the bed. They didn’t move. As he tried again, jerking the upper half of his body so hard he would have fallen off the bed had Helion not grabbed his shoulders to steady him. 

“Azriel, stop, you'll hurt yourself.” The High Lord of Day said. 

The Illyrian once again looked at the faces in the room, waiting for an explanation. 

Once again, everyone but Helion proved to be a coward. “We don’t know the long term impacts of the spell, you and Adelaide…” Helion’s voice cracked while saying her name. It only hit Azriel then that of course he would be just as impacted by this, Helion had raised her from a babe. But Azriel hadn’t seen him since the funeral, his face controlled into a tight mask that made reading emotions impossible, even for the Spymaster. “You both were brought here to be looked after while our scholars and healers work on learning more. But what we have gathered hasn’t been… reassuring.”

“I knew coming into this I’d have to make a sacrifice, I still stand by that choice.” Azriel confirmed, he just needed people to be upfront with him. 

“You have… tied yourselves together. In bringing her back, you connected your individual beings. We don’t know how this will ultimately impact you both, not till we have both of you here with us. But it is good that you have woken up, for it must mean Adelaide is not far behind.” 

He would get to see her again, get to talk to her, get to…

Thinking of Adelaide now, he tried to ignore the new feelings bubbling inside him, things he hadn’t felt before. 

She was alive and she was here.

For the first time in 6 months, Azriel smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.

[wnbawag]

Jacked and Kind

Pairing: Breanna Stewart x popstar!reader

Summary: Popstar!reader - think Chappell Roan.

Word Count: 2.1k

Note: Not proofread, I totally wrote this in one sitting and it's not the best lol :)

My Masterlist

The 2025 Grammy’s

“And the award for the Best New Artist goes to:”

The entire building seemed to hold its breath, all the contestants trying to school their features, camera’s panning to each contestant in turn.

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

The artist’s hit song, Pink Pony Club, played in the background as the cameras zoomed in on the winner, who was currently holding back tears while she hugged the people around her.

The building was on their feet, cheering as she made her way through the crowd, accepting high fives and handshakes from various industry giants before finally getting onto the stage.

The announcer gave her a hug, whispering how proud of her she was, before standing back to let Y/N get to the mic.

“Y’all I’m shaking so much, thank you so much,” Y/N said into the mic, lip visibly trembling as she looked around the room.

It was that moment that the entire building was reminded of just how young Y/N was, and they immediately supported her by cheering.

“I remember writing this album, these songs, back home in Kentucky, never thinking anyone would ever hear them. I’m just so happy that you all love them as much as I do, thank you all so much,”

Y/N stepped back from the mic, waved at the audience, and wiped away her happy tears as she was led off stage to do her interviews.

Post – Grammy Interviews

“Y/N Y/L/N, winner of Best New Artist tonight, here with us for a few questions. Now Y/N, you’ve answered a lot of questions about your music tonight, so I have something different. You repost lots of women’s basketball to your Instagram story, specifically about the new Unrivaled league in Miami. Tell us what basketball means to you and why you seem so passionate about women’s sports?”

“What a great question, yes I love women’s sports, and I am guilty of reposting almost everything I see related to Unrivaled,” Y/N said with a giggle, flashing a smile to the camera at her right.

“I love what Stewie and Phee have done with the league; I played basketball when I was younger, so I’ve always been a big basketball fan. I’m really excited that these women have another option in the off season, rather than going overseas being the only option. I love the idea of Unrivaled and it’s been so successful so far.”

“Is there anything you’d want to say to the league or the players who may be watching this?”

“Of course! I want to sponsor something or contribute, I’m not sure what but I’m sure they could help me figure that out! Stewie, Phee, or admin, hit me up!”

And with that, Y/N signed off, giving the camera a big smile and wave before walking off.

Little did they know that interaction was going to change their entire trajectory.

February 2025 – Miami, Florida

The past week had felt like a fever dream. Almost immediately after the Grammy’s, you got an Instagram DM from the Unrivaled Instagram account, asking about a good phone number to discuss a partnership.

This led to several meetings over the span of two days with the Unrivaled board of directors, who decided that they wanted your partnership in the form of content with the players.

Something you were so excited for.

They had you flying out by the end of the week with a schedule of content to make with the different teams.

Of course, you vlogged the whole way there. They were keeping you joining as a secret until you landed, so the content you filmed got sent directly to the media team to edit and have ready to post.

After landing, you were met with an Unrivaled rep at the Miami airport and driven back to the headquarters.

They got you settled in your own Unrivaled apartment, showered you with Unrivaled merch, and debriefed what you would be doing first.

Their first content idea had you hyped.

You would be joining the Mist for a practice.

The entire concept was so unserious. They didn’t expect you to really be able to keep up, they just wanted you to give it a go and build some chemistry with the players while the cameras rolled.

The idea was to get you doing basketball things with the different teams, then have you participate in the Celebrity game close to the end of the Unrivaled season, which would be a 3v3 of 3 celebrities vs. 3 Unrivaled players.

You thought the entire idea was super entertaining and were excited to get started the next day, bright and early.

Unrivaled Practice Facility – Mist Practice

“Alright guys, Y/N here, star basketball player, obviously, here to show some amateurs how it’s done,” You winked at the camera, mic attached to your shirt. You were dressed head to toe in Unrivaled merch, Mist shirt and basketball shorts proudly on display.

You had mentioned in one of the meetings with the board that you were good on shoes, you had Jordans.

Then found a brand-new pair of Stewie 2’s in the numerous boxes of merch for you, with a handwritten note from Stewie.

‘Don’t want you dirtying your pretty Jordans – Stewie’

So, of course, you were repping Stewie 2’s paired with some WNBA socks.

You pushed open the doors to the practice court, catching the attention of all the Mist players.

“Okay girls let’s get this,” You stated proudly, strutting in with the cameras following, goofy grin on your face.

You were met with lighthearted giggles from the team as they all came to introduce themselves, several telling you what big fans they were of your music.

Stewie was last to greet you, she had to lean down to hug you properly, whispering that she was so excited you were here.

After she stood back up, you realized just how tall she was, but she looked down at your shoes and smiled.

“Nice shoes, they look good on you,” And winked.

You might’ve felt your heart skip a beat, but that wasn’t important.

Phil Handy greeted you, shaking your hand and telling you he wasn’t going to go easy on you, with an unserious look on his face, before telling the team to line up at the court lines.

He explained a quick handling drill which comprised mostly of between the leg dribbles.

It was that moment you realized you didn’t know how to dribble between the legs.

Standing beside Stewie, you nudged her side urgently.

She looked down at you with a questioning gaze.

“Uh, Stewie? I don’t know how to go in between the legs,” Stewie’s eyebrows raised in understanding, she glanced and motioned to Phil, who nodded.

Stewie took you a few paces to the side and began showing you how to dribble in between the legs.

“You need to be lower than you think, yeah bend over a little, little more. Yup just like that. Keep your knees bent, I know it feels like you look weird, but I promise you don’t. Yup now just bounce it- yes exactly!” Stewie gave a little bounce once you got it, shooting a big grin your way.

Of course, the cameras were catching every interaction and eating up you and Stewie.

The two of you rejoined the drill and made the pass with the team. You were slow about getting across the floor, losing your ball several times as you bounced off your foot.

It could’ve been embarrassing, but Stewie matched your pace, laughing loudly with you whenever you lost your ball, and it seemed every bit of social anxiety drained out of your system with her beside you.

That’s how all the drills went, Stewie showing you exactly how to do the different handles, adjusting your stance on shooting, and explain the 3v3 and 1v1 rules as Phil ran drills. She partnered with you for every drill, giggling with you whenever you failed miserably and cheering when you managed to dribble correctly or sink a basket.

Even though it was all fun and games, you managed to dribble a ball behind your back in a cross over in a 1v1 drill against Stewie, then sink a 2-pointer.

You totally knew Stewie left you wide open on purpose, but you didn’t care when she cheered louder than you did as the ball sunk through net.

You understood why everyone who met this woman loved her.

As practice ended, Phil and the practice players had left the court while the rest of the team crowded around you to ask questions and talk.

At some point, Stewie had asked if there was anything you had ever wanted to do on a court, to which you responded you wished you could dunk.

Which led to Stewie leading you to the basket, ball in her hand. She passed you the ball, telling you to hold it while she put her hands on your waist, moving you to just to the side under the basket.

She leaned down, standing behind you, till her lips were level with your ear.

“When I say jump, jump straight up. Trust me, I got you,”

You definitely didn’t shiver at that.

She told you to jump, which you did.

You felt her strong hands on your waist lift, and you went straight to the basket, your head peeking just over it.

You excitedly dropped the ball in, giggling as Stewie carefully lowered you to the ground, hands never leaving your hips, even when your feet were safely on the ground.

You were barely paying attention to Rickea and Aaliyah yapping about some Tik Tok trend, barely paid attention when Stewie nodded in agreement, you nodded just to agree with Stewie.

And somehow found yourself in the Mist locker room, filming a Tik Tok. You heard the music “a boy who’s jacked and kind” come from Rikea’s phone and you immediately knew what you were in for.

But couldn’t find it in yourself to care as you and Stewie faced the camera, her easily lifting you up and onto her shoulder.

She shot you a smile before smirking at the camera and flexing the bicep that wasn’t holding you in place.

You couldn’t help the soft smile that graced your own features at her antics.

Stewie came along as you filmed other content with other teams for the rest of the day, claiming it was ‘co-founder duties’.

You didn’t miss the eye roll from Phee when she said that.

The two of you made eye contact several times during the Owls content, silently bonding over amusement from Stewie not leaving your side.

She found several excuses to pick you up throughout the day, saying she had never met someone so small.

You felt you should’ve been offended at the constant comments about your height, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when Stewie’s strong arms were wrapped around you.

Several times, you caught yourself staring at her lips as she yapped, something you were sure the cameras had picked up on.

Not that you really cared.

Board of Directors Dinner

The Board had invited you to a dinner after your first day, you were unsurprised when Stewie said she was going too.

Phee looked at her in surprise.

“Didn’t you say those things were stupid and you would never go-”

“Nope, I never said that. I live for stupid dinners,”

You and Phee made exasperated eye contact, choosing to not comment about the sneaky arm that had made its way around your shoulders.

You leaned into it during the dinner, keeping a hand on Stewie’s thigh or fiddling with her fingers under the table.

You definitely knew you were driving her crazy the entire dinner. Not that you cared.

Stewie had insisted on walking you home, even though you were living in the same building as everyone else for the time being. But you let her, leaning into her side while she wrapped a hand around to your hip, you let your own arm wrap around her waist.

Once the two of you were in the building, Stewie looked at you with a hesitant look on her face.

“I know we like, just met, but- only if you want to, no pressure or anything, but would you want to come back to my place and- y’know,” Stewie blushed, looking down at her shoes.

You giggled, the light sound bringing her attention back to you.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask,”

[whentherewerebicycles]

I am not really an avid Purchaser of Objects but periodically I like to take stock of things I’ve bought that turned out to be excellent quality or worth investing in. here are my favorites:

thousandfell’s women’s lace-up sneakers. vegan leather and insanely comfy. took them as my only pair of shoes on a very walking-intensive trip to japan and south korea and ended up exclaiming aloud many times “god I can’t believe how comfy these are!!” they’ve lasted two full years of heavy wear and are still going strong.

the LL bean women’s mountain classic anorak. this is the only jacket I have ever needed in the PNW. it’s insanely lightweight so it’s perfect for brisk but not too cold days (and also amazing for travel as it folds down so small), BUT it’s also roomy enough that you can layer a sweatshirt under it and comfortably wear it outside in temps as low as 35 degrees. it also has SO MANY HUGE POCKETS which means I can carry everything I need for the dogs and the baby in just my jacket lol. like literally i can fit a bottle and diapers and wipes in it. I own it in two colors and wear it every single day.

able’s mamuye leather tote. I believe this was a rec from sasha? I had been searching high and low for a bag that looked professional for work but was still casual enough to use as an everyday or travel tote too. I wanted something simple, durable, and high quality enough that I could use it for a really long time. I splurged for the kind with a zipper and it was worth it! the one change is I wish it came with an organizer or had a bit more built-in structure. I got a cheap one off amazon which works fine and gives it a nice shape, but idk I might eventually buy the one they sell specifically for this bag. I love this bag so much that every time I see it I gasp inwardly at how beautiful it is and how fancy yet low-maintenance it looks. I think your favorite objects should be so beautiful to you they make your heart happy when you see them and this bag definitely qualifies.

karina dresses. the prints can be hit or miss and sell out pretty fast so you have to jump on the new collection releases when they email you. but almost every work dress I own is from this company and I love them so much. they’re super well made, flattering, and cut in a way that makes them very forgiving if your body (like mine) tends to fluctuate up and down in weight a lot. they are so forgiving that I didn’t have to buy any new maternity clothes for work—I just wore these through my whole pregnancy. the one thing that might not work for everyone: they’re made from a synthetic fabric, which means they never wrinkle and hang-dry very quickly, but also idk I do prefer the feel of cotton or linen or another more breathable natural fiber.

speaking of natural fibers: I also purchased a few skirts and a dress from pact (organic cotton basics) and I really like them so far but don’t yet know how they’ll hold up over time! so they get an honorary mention for now.

the thomasville tisdale sectional. this is the greatest couch ever made. I evangelize for it every opportunity I get. it’s so comfy and so gigantic. you can rearrange the modular pieces to form a very comfortable queen-sized bed if you don’t have a spare room or if you just want to have a really cozy movie night. I’ve had it for three years and it gets a lot of wear and tear with the dogs but it still looks and feels SO nice. plus it’s costco and their insane return policy means that if it falls apart in five years (it won’t) I could almost certainly still take it back and get a full refund. best! giant! couch! ever!!!!

ok that’s it lol everything else I own apart from art and quirky sentimental objects is kinda junk, or is just Fine but not worth writing home about. do you own high quality objects or clothing that you love recommending to other people? if so I want to hear about it.

[bellarkeselection]

Hi!! Could it possible if you did something for how Jace and Luke would react with a female!reader on her period? Maybe she has bad cramps, and she gets bloated and insecure? Maybe how they deal with her mood swings and if she leaks? It's completely fine it not <3

My Beautiful Dragon Queen

When Jace entered his chambers he was caught off guard to see his wife laying in bed. She was gripping her stomach moaning in pain causing him to rush to her bedside immediately concerned. “My lady wife, what is hurting you so much?” He asked when I threw my head back against the pillow bearing my teeth down against each other. This morning I had started my monthly bleed and the cramps were a lot worse than I remembered from the last time. I couldn’t really get up from the bed without being completely exhausted when I returned. "Jace it's nothing - urgh just my monthly bleed is all..." I attempted to lie to the future Lord and heir to the Iron Throne hoping that he wouldn't be able to see my nerves.

"Is there anything I can do, Y/n. Like get you some milk of the popy or send for a Maester?" He questioned me watching me grumble tossing the covers aside. Pushing myself up from the bed as best as I could trying to walk over to the mirror that was beside the window in our chambers. Eyeing myself in front of the glass mirror I moved my hands over my stomach feeling like it was bloaded like I was pregnant but that wasn't the case. Looking around at the other women at court they didn't look like this when they were bleeding, they looked almost like they were glowing and some were always happy thinking that they were pregnant with babies. "I can't deal with that old woman nagging me anymore today. She keeps telling me I should just lay in the bed and rest. But - oh my mother told me that if you were in pain it was best to be moving around. Plus I can't be viewed as the weak and fat girl I am...there are already enough whispers here that you don't want to sleep with me because I am not pretty enough!" I grunted bending over the bed a little releasing some tears.

Jacaerys rose from the bed coming to stand behind me gently wrapping his arms around my waist from behind looking down at me since he was slightly taller than me. "Y/n, please tell me you aren't insecure about this. Because you are beautiful in ever way and will always be the woman that I deeply care for...do you need me to show you?" He asked when I turned in his arms where he tilted my chin up so I was looking up into his soft eyes. Sniffing through tears he wiped them away where I clutched the fabric of his tunics before he lifted me up in his arms. "I'm sorry I just am insecure that I am not good enough to be Queen when I get beaten by some pain...I just want to please you Jace." He lays me back down underneath the blankets crawling in beside me knowing that I enjoyed the heat his body provided when he wrapped his arms around my waist kissing the crown of my head. "You do please me, love. We don’t have to sleep with enough just because everyone at court makes whispers. I choose not to listen to them." Snuggled into his embrace I smiled knowing that he was always good about taking away my insecurities.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[applejuicefruit]

can i request a dusan fic where he got so much attention from other women at a party, and the reader being insecuree, maybe a smut pleasee

tw : reader is self conscious and insecure, mention of smut

dusan vlahovic x reader

Am I enough?

You were currently sitting on a black leather couch, in a little corner of the huge ballroom you found yourself in, completely forgotten by your boyfriend and your friends. You never really liked parties but your boyfriend Dusan begged you to come with him to celebrate his team latest win and, of course, when you saw him so happy you couldn’t say no. What you didn’t expect was to see him talking with different women instead of spending time with you. He had models and influencers all over him and you couldn’t help just start feeling insecure. Not only you were mad at him for completely ignoring you the whole night but you started feeling jealous of those girls, who clearly caught his attention and you started to wonder how or why he was dating you when he could have had millions of models all over his feet.

You got tired to see him with those girls that you left the room and went straight into the bathroom. You didn’t want to cry in a room full of strangers so what better place than a dirty bathroom in some club?

You didn’t know what time it was but you heard Dusan calling your name in a distance.

“Y/n? Babe? You’re in there?” he asked, knocking on the wooden door.

“Yes, uh, one second” you said, your voice shaking a bit. You wiped your tears away and fixed your make up before meeting Dusan outside of the bathroom.

“Hey…I was looking for you, is everything okay?” he asked, his face full of concern when he saw your make up half smudged under your eyes.

“Yes…I just needed some time alone” you said, ignoring his look.

“You sure?” he asked again.

“Yes, I told you I’m fine” you lied “I’m just tired…” you lied again.

“Okay…then let’s go home” he smiled.

“You can stay and have fun…I saw how you were having fun…I can call a taxi, I don’t mind” you scoffed. You were sad. You were hurt. You were mad.

“Babe…can you tell me what’s going on?” he asked again.

“Nothing…”

“Don’t say nothing. Something is bothering you and I want to help you…” he said truthfully.

“Why me?” you asked him and he looked confused “why me? Why did you chose me? You can have all the prettiest girls in the world and you chose me? I saw how they were all on you Dusan…I saw how they wanted you…and I also saw how you didn’t do nothing to excuse yourself from that situation…almost like you loved receiving all of the attention and I can’t help but wonder why did you chose me?” you asked, completely breaking down.

“What…what are you talking about?” he asked, a little confused “you know why I chose you, you know how much I love you…” he said, his hands lifting your chin up and his fingers wiping your tears away.

“Then why did you let them? They were all over you…I know I look nothing like them…” you said.

“You’re more than perfect baby…I just didn’t want to be rude…you’re perfect baby, I love you so much you have no idea” he said, kissing your wet cheeks “I’m so sorry If I made you doubt yourself…I never meant to hurt you baby” he said.

“It’s just…all of my negative thoughts…”you tried to explain but he stopped you.

“Let me wash away all of those those you have in your mind okay baby?” he said, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you close to him.

“Dusan…” you called his name.

“Let me take you home okay? Let me take care of you” he whispered in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your skin.

“Okay…” you whispered and he smiled.

Once you got home, his kisses turned into a full make out session and before you knew it you were laying completely naked under his muscular body.

You remembered all of those models and you started to feeling insecure about your body, thinking bad things and feeling self conscious once again.

“Hey pretty girl” he called you when he sensed your insecurity “let me make you feel good okay?” he whispered, leaving some kisses on your neck “I want you to know how special you are to me” he said looking straight into your eyes.

“Okay” you nodded.

“I love you” he said and you smiled.

“I love you too” you said back, letting fall yourself into the pleasure he was going to give you, knowing it would have been a very long night.

[ninadove]

Nina reads Dracula 🦇

May 24th

And we’re back, thank goodness!!! I’ve been so worried about my good friend Jonathan! I can’t wait to hear how he outsmarted the Count and made it out safely and —

Letter, Lucy Westenra to Mina Murray.

GODDAMMIT

But hey, it’s the girls! I love the girls! Let’s see if they’ve been building any castles in the air recently.

My dear, it never rains but it pours. How true the old proverbs are. Here am I, who shall be twenty in September, and yet I never had a proposal till to-day, not a real proposal, and to-day I have had three. Just fancy! THREE proposals in one day! Isn't it awful!

This is my idea of a nightmare actually. But!!! More points for the poly theory!!!

I feel sorry, really and truly sorry, for two of the poor fellows.

Nevermind, they didn’t pass the vibe check. (Or did they?)

You and I, Mina dear, who are engaged and are going to settle down soon soberly into old married women, can despise vanity.

Cottagecore sapphics anyone? 💖

I told you of him, Dr. John Seward, the lunatic-asylum man, with the strong jaw and the good forehead. He was very cool outwardly, but was nervous all the same. He had evidently been schooling himself as to all sorts of little things, and remembered them; but he almost managed to sit down on his silk hat, which men don't generally do when they are cool, and then when he wanted to appear at ease he kept playing with a lancet in a way that made me nearly scream.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the cool unaffected one? Maybe Lucy just has this effect on people.

He was going to tell me how unhappy he would be if I did not care for him, but when he saw me cry he said that he was a brute and would not add to my present trouble. […] And then, Mina, I felt a sort of duty to tell him that there was some one. I only told him that much, and then he stood up, and he looked very strong and very grave as he took both my hands in his and said he hoped I would be happy, and that if I ever wanted a friend I must count him one of my best.

GOOD!!!!! I LIKE HIM!!!!!

Well, my dear, number Two came after lunch. He is such a nice fellow, an American from Texas —

[Miraculous flashabacks] DON’T —

I know now what I would do if I were a man and wanted to make a girl love me.

Normal Things To Tell Your Bestie, 99th edition

Mr. Quincey P. Morris found me alone. It seems that a man always does find a girl alone. No, he doesn't, for Arthur tried twice to make a chance, and I helping him all I could; I am not ashamed to say it now.

😏

I must tell you beforehand that Mr. Morris doesn't always speak slang—that is to say, he never does so to strangers or before them, for he is really well educated and has exquisite manners—but he found out that it amused me to hear him talk American slang, and whenever I was present, and there was no one to be shocked, he said such funny things. […]

'Miss Lucy, I know I ain't good enough to regulate the fixin's of your little shoes, but I guess if you wait till you find a man that is you will go join them seven young women with the lamps when you quit. Won't you just hitch up alongside of me and let us go down the long road together, driving in double harness?'

OK BUT THIS IS LITERALLY SO SWEET he personalised it and even made fun of himself to diffuse the tension 🥺

And then, my dear, before I could say a word he began pouring out a perfect torrent of love-making, laying his very heart and soul at my feet. He looked so earnest over it that I shall never again think that a man must be playful always, and never earnest, because he is merry at times.

AND THEN MADE HIMSELF VULNERABLE!!!!! What a man!!!

I burst into tears—I am afraid, my dear, you will think this a very sloppy letter in more ways than one—

LUCY

Why can't they let a girl marry three men, or as many as want her, and save all this trouble?

Wait. THE POLYCULE IS CANON??? THE POLYCULE IS CANON?????

'If that other fellow doesn't know his happiness, well, he'd better look for it soon, or he'll have to deal with me. Little girl, your honesty and pluck have made me a friend, and that's rarer than a lover; it's more unselfish anyhow. My dear, I'm going to have a pretty lonely walk between this and Kingdom Come. Won't you give me one kiss? It'll be something to keep off the darkness now and then. You can, you know, if you like, for that other good fellow—he must be a good fellow, my dear, and a fine fellow, or you could not love him—hasn't spoken yet.' That quite won me, Mina, for it was brave and sweet of him, and noble, too, to a rival—wasn't it?—and he so sad; so I leant over and kissed him.

Honestly? Mood. I am utterly charmed by this cowboy.

Now number 3 has to be something.

P.S.—Oh, about number Three—I needn't tell you of number Three, need I? Besides, it was all so confused; it seemed only a moment from his coming into the room till both his arms were round me, and he was kissing me. I am very, very happy, and I don't know what I have done to deserve it. I must only try in the future to show that I am not ungrateful to God for all His goodness to me in sending to me such a lover, such a husband, and such a friend.

THAT’S IT????? A POST-SCRIPTUM????? GIRL THIS IS YOUR FIANCÉ

OK OK I am willing to accept that the strength of your feelings can’t be transcribed into words. But still.

In conclusion: these are Lucy’s three boyfriends, and yes, they eat garlic bread. 🧄🥖

(Also the contrast with Dracula’s roommates did not go unnoticed)

< Prev 🦇 Next >

[avocifera]

vlogger!reader on gayotic that’s all

no because that would be such a hilarious episode !! ok so here are my thought on how it would go

- i feel that muna kept it a secret that vlogger!reader would be there until the ep was released just for funsies !

- the episode starts with jo going like “so we have my girlfriend’s girlfriend here huh… i don’t think i should be that happy and comfortable as i am but it is what it is!” and naomi just answers that with “i think everyone in our friend group is a little bit in love with reader we should all just accept our fate you know?” with their biggest smirk

- reader talks about so much stuff on that episode and they’re just so smart and eloquently articulate when talking about stuff as: discovering your sexuality, is it necessary to come out?, the pressure of being excellent, how sometimes weird fans make you feel, how being in love with women feels, just a lot of stuff in general

- but of course there are plenty of chaotic and unpredictable conversations too like the first time they smoked weed, that one time when reader’s parents almost caught them making out with a girl, tumblr 2014, growing up being a fangirlboy, good bad movies (i thought of winnie the pooh horror movie writing this)

- overall the episode would just be super entertaining to watch because reader’s personality matched so well with muna and they have a lot of fun silly conversations but also touch on sensitive topics in a very affectionate way that makes everyone’s heart warm.

- reader is a sunshine and that episode feels like being comforted by a older sibling while also laughing until your belly’s hurting and you have tears running down

[thetruthisoutthereandbeyond]

About "Jon's Wife"

Looking at the two OCs closely, Ashley does come across as a knockoff of Audrey, but there are key differences. It appears that one of the ways MrsFizzle diffused how much she borrowed from Audrey was that she told instead of showed the reader who Ashley is, what she's like, how her relationship with Jon and Shawn developed. MA, on the other hand, showed all of this with Audrey and her development and relationships with the character over time.

The strange thing is, MrsFizzle is capable of showing as well as demonstrated in the chapters before Ashley is introduced and in her non-BMW stories, she simply chose not to do it with Ashley. It's almost as though she stopped putting any effort into the character yet expected her to have the same reception as Audrey who MrsFizzle told MA she loved so much.

Why? Why would she not put the effort into a character she tells us is so important to Jon and Shawn?

Unfortunately I think MrsFizzle told us herself: " Your version of Jon’s wife was so much better than the one I was creating."

One thing is certain: Audrey was/is the more popular OC as are her family dynamics with Jon and Shawn. According to MrsFizzle's own words, this may be what sparked all of this:

Yeahh, I’m pretty sure the person was trying to make you feel bad, even if only subconsciously. And I say this because I am very, very guilty of it: envy is such an ugly human emotion. Like, we can empathize with someone who is suffering, but if someone has something nice, we can’t feel happy for them; we feel the need to tear them down. What’s up with that?- Reddit, KaylieNight

(More on what I found on Reddit in Part 5)

On AO3:

There are 16 works with Jonathan Turner/Audrey Andrews tagged. Six of those are by authors other than MA.

Two other stories mention Audrey but she is not tagged.

Four works by an author other than MA are tagged Jonathan Turner & Audrey Andrews.

Four works are fanart including the tag Audrey Turner.

There are a total of 17 works for the Autumn in Philadelphia series by others, the majority of which including Audrey as a central character.

The pairing of Jon and Audrey is popular enough to have earned an ship name, "Jondrey", that is used by multiple readers.

Plus one unrelated series, a BMW reboot, uses Audrey as a character but with a different back story. The other gives MA frequent credit for the use of Audrey. See here, here, and here.

There are no stories or fanart featuring Ashley. The only mention of her is in Reunification. There are no Reunification-inspired stories or art.

From the article:

...I’ve now completed reading Autumn in Philadelphia and I’m moving onto the other stories in the series and there is one thing about these two OCs that now really bothers me.

In MA’s story, Audrey deals with disordered eating which MA discloses is something she also deals with. Throughout the story that occurs in the 90s, Jon worries about Audrey’s eating habits and thin appearance. While food and cooking are a very big part of Audrey’s contribution to the Turner/Hunter household, it is also a way for her to hide her health issues.

Ashley in MrsFizzle’s story has none of these weaknesses. Ashely is presented as so perfect even Mary Poppins would be jealous. While Audrey’s past tragedy continues to haunt her, Ashley has no trauma or insecurities from her past with an alcoholic father who abandoned her or her cheating ex-fiancée. She never gets angry or does anything wrong (the one time she royally effs up, she is quickly assured that it is not her fault, and she is the one wronged). Then readers are told repeatedly for no discernable reason that she loves to eat, and Jon loves that she loves to eat. While these types of things (Mary Sues and repeating things that do nothing to progress story/character development) are hallmarks of fanfiction, the problem is the need to mention how much Ashley likes to eat and how much better it makes her than other women.

Once is enough. Multiple times makes me want to know what are you really trying to say?

One example:

Jon cleared his throat. “Uh. They don’t actually have waiters. I’ll have to go to the front to order.” “Oh, okay.” “Know what you want?” “Burger and fries? Oh, and how are the shakes here? I like strawberry.” He grinned. Yeah, this girl was nothing like the other women he’d dated. Part of him was scared to death—it made him never want to go back. The other part was just overjoyed to be near her.

-Reunification, chapter 26

One of the things MA said MrsFizzle did was use her mental health issues against her. MrsFizzle had to know MA was in recovery from disordered eating. Anyone who has read MA’s work or followed her knows this. That MrsFizzle made loving food a character trait of her OC and had the CC love interest adore her for it takes away some of the doubt I had about the severity of what MA claims MrsFizzle did to her privately.

While I understand trying to show your OC is different from another, a published writer should know better how to do this. If food is not an issue for her character, there are other ways to present it, and the best way would be not to say anything after the first mention if anything must be said at all.

The way this was done really does seem to be a pointed jab at MrsFizzle’s “rival”. If that’s the case, then that’s cruel. Worse, it is something that most readers would not even notice. I say worse because I am willing to bet MA would absolutely see this as a hidden message if she read the story but wouldn’t be able to say anything without looking unhinged...

---

...At one point, I swear “readers” were copying comments from MA’s story and sending them to MrsFizzle as several of these comments including Fiona’s “if I didn’t know better” and even the friend’s comments are ones MA has gotten on her stories several times over almost word for word. Judging by the time stamps they started rolling in after MA made her plagiarism claims known (October or November 2023 although groundwork to defend against plagiarism claims seem to start much earlier which makes me very curious about what was going on behind-the-scenes with the two authors).

I say this because some of the comments on Reunification don’t really fit the story or chapter they appear on. It’s hard to explain without going into an analysis of the story which I have no interest in doing. But from what I gather reading the comments on both stories, readers focus on different things.

On the surface, it appears MrsFizzle has a core group of readers (whom I believe are legit) and they are focused on Jon and Shawn almost exclusively with the rare, brief mention of Ashley. However, most comments ignore Ashley even when she is in a chapter. Then there are the few Ashley stans. Early Ashley comments are normal for stories with an OC, so I believe those are legit. It’s the sudden shift to pointing out how wonderful is Ashley and perfect her relationship with Jon is; how they hate OCs but adore Ashley (almost copying the comments like this about Audrey) that make it seem calculated when paired with the dates they started appearing.

In MA’s story, the comments tend to center on the trio of Jon, Shawn, and Audrey. Overwhelmingly readers comment on their family dynamics. In later chapters that deal more with Jon and Audrey’s budding romance, many readers are very into that as well. Audrey is frequently mentioned apart from the other two characters and is well liked by those that comment. Readers often mention that Audrey should be a canon character. These comments extended to Reddit as well. I found more mentions of MA’s OC than the canon characters. Because Audrey is mentioned from the start and frequently, I believe they are all legit comments. Also, they make sense according to the chapters they appear in. MA’s Audrey is a very well-thought-out character who readers get to know along with Jon and Shawn. Love her, like her, or no thanks, by the time readers get to the end of the first part of Autumn in Philadelphia they can make an informed decision on why they feel the way they do. But they do not ignore her.

[reciprocityfic]

champagne problems, chapter eight

title: champagne problems fandom: little women pairing: theodore laurence x amy march rating: m summary: amy accepts fred's proposal, and laurie comes home and marries jo. but instead of it being the end of something, it's just the start of something bigger.

(or, how laurie and amy find their way back to each other.)

chapter one: champagne problems   chapter two: right where you left me chapter three: it’s nice to have a friend chapter four: the end is here chapter five: moments that we stole (on begged and borrowed time) chapter six: this godforsaken mess chapter seven: love slipped beyond your reaches

author's note: i so, so apologize for this long break. thank you to everyone still reading after all this time. it means more to me than you will ever know, and inspired me not to give up on this story.

cracks of light

My Dearest Amy,

I’ve been dreaming of you.  In my mind, you are beautiful and joyous.  In my mind, you are eagerly waiting for my return.  And in my mind, you love me still, despite my absence and all my mistakes.

I miss you desperately.  Although my dreams of you are pleasant, they are no substitute for being by your side.  I understand why you haven’t written back, but it still pains me to not hear from you.  I hope you are well.  I hope you are happy, as you are in my dreams.

Know that I am working every day to secure our future together.  I hope to return soon, but there are a few more things that must fall into place before I can come home to you.  Know that I think of you every moment.  And know, above everything, that I love you.

Wait for me, my love, please.

Forever yours, Laurie

She jumps slightly as someone knocks on the door to her room.  Carefully, she folds the letter in her hands and goes over to her desk, opening the top right drawer and placing it on top of all the saved letters that came before it.  She stares at the heap for a moment, runs her hand over the top of it.  She can feel the indent of the pen strokes on the delicate paper.  She imagines him alone in a hotel room, writing by candlelight, pen gripped tightly in his fist as he put words down on the page.

Her heart aches.

I miss you desperately.

She misses him desperately, as well.  And she wants to write to him more than anything.  But she’d solemnly resolved to live with as little of him as possible in his absence; after all, it was something she would have to get used to, almost certainly.  She still can’t see a future for the two of them - not one together, at least.  Although Laurie has been insistent in his letters that he’s working toward a way for them, he hasn’t erased the doubt in her mind or the sinking feeling in her stomach.

She’ll have to live without him, and there was no time like the present to practice.  Which meant no writing back.  No sketching him.  No visits to his home - not even any visits to Mr. Laurence.  She even avoided talking about him as much as she could.

“Amy?  Are you there?”

She jumps again; this time, it’s at the sound of Marmee’s voice.  She walks to the door, opens it to find her mother standing there, a sweet smile on her face that almost distracts from the slight concern in her eyes.

“There you are.  You’ve been up here a while.  Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she says simply.  She’s never told her mother that she comes up and locks herself in her room for sometimes hours reading Laurie’s letters, but she suspects Marmee knows anyway.  Her mother always seemed to know everything about her.  It would be bothersome if her mother was anyone other than Marmee .

“Good,” Marmee says, her gaze relaxing.  “You have a visitor, dear.”

She freezes, and feels all the blood rush from her face.  It can’t be…

Her mother reaches out quickly and takes her hand.

“It’s not him,” she assures her.  “I would tell you if it was.”

She lets out a shaky breath, and looks down at the floor, cursing the disappointment that floods through her.  She even feels tears begin to gather behind her eyes.  She doesn’t know how her dread regarding seeing Laurie again can exist alongside how much she misses him, but the two of them do exist, creating a war inside her and constantly tugging her heart in two different directions.

“Come,” Marmee beckons, turning towards the doorway.  “It’s not good to keep company waiting.”

She follows her mother down the stairs, idly trying to figure out who would be here to visit her specifically.  It’s always a family event when Meg comes, and Marmee has already confirmed it’s not Laurie.

Could it be Fred?  For a moment, her stomach fills with dread.  But then, she remembers that his response to her letter ending their engagement and calling off their wedding had only arrived two days ago, and it had been postmarked from Berlin.  It’s impossible that he could’ve made it here by now.  And she doubts Fred ever wants to see her again; his letter, though polite, was quite curt, to say the least.

Her brow furrows; she doesn’t know that many other people.  Not anymore.  In fact, she’s utterly confused when she walks into the front room with her mother, until she lays eyes on the person in a chair next to her father, chatting pleasantly.

“Mr. Laurence,” she says, and the old man looks up from his conversation.

“Amy, my dear,” he replies, smiling fondly at her.

Her face brightens, despite everything, as Mr. Laurence stands and walks over to her.  In the time during Beth’s illness and after her passing, the man had truly become like a grandfather to her and her sisters.  She’d missed him dearly, she realizes, as a few tears begin to gather in her eyes.

Before Mr. Laurence reaches her, though, his face becomes serious, and he asks Marmee and her father to give the two of them a moment together.  Anxiety creeps up her spine as her parents leave the room.  Surely this has something to do with - 

“I have news from Laurie,” Mr. Laurence tells her, interrupting but confirming her thoughts.  Dread must show on her face, because the man quickly reaches out and takes her hand.

“It’s nothing bad, I assure you,” he says, leading her to the sofa.  As they sit, Mr. Laurence sighs.  “But Laurie said to be careful, because he didn’t know how you would react.”

The old man squeezes her hand as her stomach churns.  She turns her face away and stares at the floor, not wanting him to see her reaction to the news, whatever it may be.

“He’s coming home,” Mr. Laurence murmurs.

Her hand - still grasped in his - tightens reflexively, and she squeezes her eyes shut.  She’s silent for a few moments, waiting to speak until she’s sure her voice won’t tremble.

“When?” she finally breathes.

“His train arrives tomorrow morning.”

She doesn’t cry, surprising herself.  Instead, something quite like shock runs through her veins and stimies her emotions.  The idea that Laurie will be in Concord less than twenty-four hours from now seems almost unfeasible to her.  She’d spent so much time trying to avoid and forget him - even the concept of him.  She’d honestly wondered if she would ever see him again, despite what he wrote in his letters.  And now that he’s coming back, she isn’t sure what to feel.

“Are you alright, my dear?” Mr. Laurence asks, after long moments of quiet.

She feels numb.  Like so many different emotions are pulling on her at the same time that they’ve overloaded her brain and heart and broken her.

“Yes,” she decides, “I’m alright.  Did he - do you know what he’s been up to all this time?”

“I needed him for a week in Boston about a month ago,” he tells her.  “But other than that, I haven’t a clue.”

She nods, and then pulls her hand away from the old man’s, wrapping both of her arms around herself.  She feels strange.  Maybe stranger than she’s ever felt.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Laurence,” she says, “but I’m afraid I need to excuse myself.”

“Of course,” he says, without hesitation, and stands up as she does.  “It was nice seeing you again, dear.”

She smiles at him politely, and then starts towards the stairs.  Before she exits the room, though, she hears Mr. Laurence’s voice echo from behind her.

“I do sincerely hope everything works out for you, Amy.”

She stops, and looks over her shoulder.  The old man gazes after her, his eyes shining with sincerity.  Before she realizes what she’s doing, she walks quickly towards him and envelopes him in a hug.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, then squeezes her eyelids shut again.  She can feel inklings of the pressure behind her eyes from tears, but they do not fall.

After a moment, she steps back from him.  She almost feels embarrassed, but when she looks up, Mr. Laurence is smiling down at her.  She nods at him again, and then starts back towards the stairs.

When she’s finally in her room and has closed the door behind her, she exhales loudly.  She still feels muddled and unsteady, and anxious energy starts to bubble up inside her stomach.  She paces back and forth in the small room for about a minute before pulling the chair out and sitting down at the desk.  She sighs, and then reaches into the bottom right drawer and pulls out a sketchpad and pencil.

When she was a child and needed to calm down after a quarrel with one of her sisters, she’d come up to her room to draw.  Art has always soothed her, and she hopes it will soothe her now.

She turns her head to the right to look out the window, but sees nothing that captures her interest.  She sighs in frustration, and then turns back to the blank paper in front of her.  Slowly, she picks up her pencil, tapping it against the edge of the desk twice before putting it to the page.

She writes down his name. Laurie . She drops her pencil, and traces over her small, neat penmanship, lets her fingertip linger over the letters.  Suddenly, she picks her pencil back up, writes his name three times more.

Laurie

Laurie

Laurie

She decides to write him, that it will be easier to slip a letter under the front door of the Laurence mansion this evening instead of facing him in person tomorrow.  But she gives up only a moment later; she’s never been good with words, not like Jo.  And, in any case, she can’t get her thoughts straight.  The only word that comes to mind is his name.

Laurie.

Laurie, who’d written to her unfailingly time and time again even though she hadn’t written him a single thing in response.  Laurie, who'd said goodbye to her all those months ago, promising he’d find a way for them.  Laurie, who’d had the courage to confess for the both of them.  Laurie, who’d kissed her and held her and loved her like she was the most precious thing in the world.  Laurie in the rain.  Laurie in his study that first day, drunk and sorrowful.

Laurie, who’d stayed too long at his own wedding just to dance with her.

Laurie in Europe.  Laurie, who’d proposed marriage to her.  Laurie, who’d had the habit of gazing and smiling at her for moments too long.  Laurie, who’d visited her day after day after day in France during Fred’s long absences, seemingly trying to make up for his bad behavior by spending time with her.  Laurie in her studio at Aunt March’s.  Laurie, who’d unbuttoned her apron and called her beautiful and asked that she make her last portrait one of him.  Laurie, who’d forgotten about her and embarrassed her in front of everyone she thought mattered at the time.

Laurie, who’d been there to catch her when she flung herself into his arms on that street in Paris.

Laurie during her childhood.  Laurie, who’d bitterly left Concord and Jo behind.  Laurie, who’d helped her make flower bouquets the day before Meg’s wedding.  Laurie, who’d written her weekly at Aunt March’s house while Beth was sick, updating her on her sister’s condition and the family as a whole.  Laurie, who’d run alongside her on the beach during her first trip to the ocean.  Laurie, who’d given her a key to their mailbox in the forest that had a green ribbon because he said it matched her eyes.  Laurie, who’d saved her that day at the lake, carrying her home and whispering that she would be alright into the cold air.  Laurie, who’d bandaged her hand with the utmost care.  Laurie, who’d noticed her outside his window.  Laurie, who’d looked at her curiously after she introduced herself to him that first night, her eyes shining, and smiled.

Laurie, who, even though his attention had been absorbed by Jo, had taken the time to whisper to her, “Hello.”

Laurie.

“Laurie,” she whispers into the air, and the corners of her lips turn up.

***

She’s restless the next morning.  She wakes up before the sun rises and can’t fall back to sleep; every time she closes her eyes, Laurie’s face appears behind her lids.  So she lies on her back and stares at the ceiling until she hears the rest of the house stir.

Even Marmee, Father, and Hannah can’t calm her, though.  As they sit at the table, she can’t help but glance at the front door every minute, almost as if she can hear the beginnings of the knock she’s expecting.  She’s barely picking at a piece of bread during breakfast when she registers her mother’s voice.

“Meg should be coming today, with the twins and John.”

“It is Wednesday already?” her father answers.  “The week seems to be flying by.”

“Oh!” Hannah exclaims gently.  “I promised Daisy last week that we’d bake something together the next time she visited.  I’ll have to look at what we have around.”

“I’m going to go for a walk,” she says suddenly, tossing down her piece of bread and standing up abruptly.  “I’m not feeling well, and I think some fresh air might help.”

It’s not far from the truth.  She does feel unwell.  She feels like the walls are closing in on her, and her family’s conventional conversation grates at her brain and patience.

Her family knows better than to protest, and as they say their goodbyes, Marmee gives her a sympathetic, knowing, sad smile that makes her heart clench.  Before she leaves, she runs upstairs and grabs her sketchpad and pencil.

He’s been gone so long that it’s already spring again, and it’s warm enough outside today. The sun is shining, but there's still a certain chill in the air when the wind blows that harkens back to winter.  She’s forgotten her coat, but decides against going back for it.  Instead, she wraps her arms around herself tightly.

She doesn’t know where to go at first, but her feet lead her, and she follows them without question today.  She ends up on that beautiful hill where he’d proposed to Jo.  Where he’d confessed his love for her and kissed her for the first time.

She sits down on the sloping ground, her art supplies still clenched in her fist.  She brings them into her lap, puts graphite to paper.   She intends to draw the landscape in front of her, and she starts without thinking.  She’s a few minutes into her work when she realizes that, instead of trees and earth, she’s drawn the outlines of his face.

She stares down at the paper, pausing for a moment, and then goes back to work, purposefully drawing him this time.  The way he looked that day, right before he pressed his lips to hers.

And if you don’t leave now, I might kiss you .

She hadn’t left.  She’d stayed.  And he’d kissed her.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there drawing him - his windswept curls, red and pouted lips, eyes dark and purposeful - but she drops her pencil into the grass when she’s done, and flexes her cramping hand; she’d never been able to teach herself to be ambidextrous, as Jo had.  

She leans back slightly and examines her work, and can’t help but press her lips together in a sad, incredulous grin.  She’d tried so hard to forget him - she’d spent months trying to forget him - and had failed miserably, it seems.  Although she hasn’t seen him for months, she’s captured his details with near perfect precision.  She lifts her hand and runs her fingers over the pencil markings.

“I thought you’d given up on art, Raphaela.”

The sound of his voice startles her, and she nearly jumps off the ground before she registers that it’s him.  It’s Laurie.

She’d been wondering what she would do when she was in his presence again for his entire absence.  Would she scream, or cry?  Would she push him away?  Would she run to him?  Would she still love him?

As it stands, she picks up her pencil from the ground, and speaks without turning to him.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Only a minute or so,” he tells her.  “You didn’t answer my question.”

“It wasn’t a question, so I have no obligation to comment on it,” she retorts calmly.

“Alright, Amy,” he relents.

Amy .  She closes her eyes, and lets the sound of him saying her name permeate her eardrums again.  She can hear the smile in his voice, as well.

She hears the rustling of footsteps, and then he’s sitting down next to her.  He’s close, but doesn’t touch her.  Instead, he pulls his knees up to his chest, and drapes his arms across them.

“You didn’t answer my letters, either,” he points out, after a beat of silence.  “I’ve learned to expect silence from you.  Quite a change from how it was when we were growing up.”

She’s about to defend herself, but then she sees the grin on his face, out of the corner of her eye - she still hasn’t looked at him fully, yet - and realizes he’s teasing her.

“Stop it, Theodore,” she huffs.

“Only for you, Amy Curtis March.”

She can feel his gaze on her.  He’s trying to make her smile, and she bites her bottom lip to hold it back.

Silence falls over them, and she’s overcome with subtle amazement - amazement that he’s here again, next to her, but primarily amazement that this is so easy .  There is a future full of questions ahead of her, she’s sure, but this - being with him - is still one of the easiest things she’s ever done.

His voice removes her from her thoughts, though, with an sudden rush.

“I’m no longer married.”

Her mouth falls open, and she finally turns to look at him. (He looks beautiful - tired, but absolutely lovely.  She would focus more on this if she wasn’t so confused at his statement, she’s sure.) He’s staring straight ahead, one of his knees bouncing nervously.  She gapes at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Jo and I aren’t married anymore.”

“You’re -”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, because she can’t even imagine it.

“We’re divorced, yes,” he says.

“That’s impossible,” she counters immediately.

“No,” he tells her.  “It’s…difficult, but not impossible.  You have to have a certain amount of money, and know the right set of people, and be willing to give up a few things…”

“Like what?” she asks, and he sighs deeply.

“Your reputation, mostly.  Mine will take a hit, but Jo’s will fall off…quite a bit.  At least around here.  She said she’s staying in New York permanently.  Still, I was afraid she wouldn’t agree.  But then again, Jo March has never been one to care much about what other people think of her, has she?”

She can’t agree or disagree with his statement.  She’s still too busy trying to wrap her mind around what he’s told her.

Divorced.

“It’s impossible,” she murmurs quietly.

“It’s not,” he assures her again.  “Amy…”

He reaches out, puts his hand on her arm.  A warm current that stems from his palm flows through her immediately.  She stares down at his hand for a long moment.

“Divorced,” she whispers.

She covers his hand with hers tentatively.

“I’m…sorry,” she says suddenly.  “I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your letters.  I read them, though.  I read them over and over again, and kept each one.  They’re in a drawer in my desk, and I read them and read them and read them -”

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until he gathers her into his arms.  She grabs on to the lapels of his jacket and sobs once, nestling his face into his neck.

“I missed you so much,” she tells him.

Because she had missed him, even if she hadn’t admitted it to herself.  She’d missed him so terribly that the thought of it almost makes her ill, even though he’s here with her now.

“I missed you,” he murmurs into her hair.  “My God, Amy, how I missed you.”

He hugs her closer to him for a moment more, and then pulls back.  He reaches over to her, takes her face in his hand and tilts her chin up so he can look into her eyes.

“I love you,” he tells her.  “I love you, and I don’t deserve you.  Especially not now.  But I want you, and 

I want my future to be with you.  I understand if you don’t - if we’re together, your reputation will suffer as well.  So I understand if you -”

She kisses him quickly - to quiet him and his doubts that seem so silly now, mostly, but also because she’s missed kissing him so much .  When they separate, he’s smiling, and even though a few tears stream down his cheeks, he laughs.

She breaks into laughter as well, and they laugh together until they can’t breathe.  Anyone passing would think they were crazy.

But no one is passing.  No one is here, except her and him.  Amy and Laurie.

This is the way it was meant , he’d said, after he’d kissed her that first time.

Once they’ve calmed down, he reaches for her face again, and rests his forehead against hers.

“Amy. Will you marry me?”

He can barely get the question out before she gives her answer, teary and breathless.

“Yes .”

He smiles, and whispers, “Thank you,” before kissing her again, deep and slow.

She kisses him back, and feels, for the first time since she arrived back from Europe, that she’s finally come home.

[maidenofmice]

The slender acacia would not shake

One long milk-bloom on the tree;

The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,

As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;

But the rose was awake all night for your sake,

Knowing your promise to me;

The lilies and roses were all awake.

They sigh'd for the dawn and thee.

Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,

Come hither, the dances are done,

In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,

Queen lily and rose in one;

Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,

To the flowers, and be their sun.

There has fallen a splendid tear

From the passion-flower at the gate.

She is coming, my dove, my dear;

She is coming, my life, my fate;

The red rose cries, *She is near, she is near;'

And the white rose weeps, 'She is late;'

The larkspur listens, 'I hear, I hear;'

And the lily whispers, 'I wait.'

She is coming, my own, my sweet;

Were it ever so airy a tread.

My heart would hear her and beat,

Were it earth in an earthy bed;

My dust would hear her and beat,

Had I lain for a century dead;

Would start and tremble under her feet,

And blossom in purple and red.

[excerpt from Lord Tennyson‘s Maud I, XXII.]

So i was briefly exposed to this poem in an art history seminar on the Victorian Era a few months ago, and because I am totally normal, all I could think about was how well it fit Aki on at least two layers. One: the entire linking of Maud with flowers, especially the rose, for obvious reasons works so so well. Especially the title „Queen Rose of the Rosebud Garde of Girls“ makes so much sense. And the second layer is a little deeper but also totally supported by my own confirmation bias. Maud is described to be deceptively beautiful but incredibly cold looking, with a stern expression and a complexion that makes her appear almost dead. I haven‘t read the entire poem down to detail but from what I could gather, the lyrical protagonist falls in love with her (and grows increasingly obsessed) after a disagreement between their fathers lead to his father‘s death, so at the beginning he tries to get back at Maud‘s father through her, but ends up being bewitched by her in the process, eventually dueling and killing her brother etc. etc. it‘s all very Victorian. Maud is mostly passive in this, never actively described to do anything and yet she is said to be both the best thing in the lyrical protagonist‘s life while at the same time being his demise.

Retrospectively one could assume that both of these things are not inherent to her character and just qualities assigned to her by the men in her life. In the Victorian era there was almost a popular belief that there were two opposing kinds of women: femmes fragiles and femme fatales, the first kind being dependent and almost sickly but on the other hand sweet and kind and docile, while the femme fatale as in popular media today is independent yet violent and oftentimes promiscuous.

It‘s an interesting duality that I see in Aki in a way (helped by the image of roses, y‘know, they‘re beautiful flowers with delicate blossoms but also piercing thorns which the show uses actively to characterize this duality in Aki) , but in a way where it has always been decided for her instead of by her. She‘s violent at the start because that is the side of hers that is fostered by Divine and towards the end of the show her caring nature shines through instead. Interestingly enough though, she is less independent when in her „femme fatale“ stage, which is really just her anger and pain towards abandonment as a young teen not being dealt with properly. She was never a true femme fatale to begin with and neither has she ever been and will ever be a femme fragile. She‘s just Aki, with both all the hurt she‘s had to experience but just as much all the times she got to experience genuine happiness, a lot of which comes from being taking care of by and caring for her friends.

There are a lot more thoughts in my brain about how women were characterized in literature throughout the decades, using the image of the rose — a sort of de-humanization of the woman and at the same time a personification of nature as woman. We talked about this extensively in another seminar on nature songs but that would exceed ALL limits on this post.

So instead just take this little drawing I made of my Queen Rose. She enables me to do things in my art I never knew I could do.

[pacificovertures]

lines from my current wip i think go hard

chat let me cook!!!

content warning: 50s era prejudice, sex work mention

 “You are rather eloquent for an Oriental, I was under the impression that your people’s language was too far distanced from our own to ever reach a satisfactory fluency." “Perhaps for an individual more ‘fresh off the boat’ as it is said, but I will have you know that my great-grandparents first arrived in this country almost one hundred years ago. It was their hands that bled building the railroads, their children who suffered in the slums of the West Coast so that my parents could come here and provide me with the education denied to them. I am sorry, but I am every bit as American as you.” The young man took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “And I am no ‘Oriental’, I am a Chinese. Surely the recent war has impressed upon you the differences between us Eastern peoples.”

(more beneath the cut)

Though it would cut into their lesson time, the young man said nothing about Heliodora’s reading in a language other than English. He merely sat and watched with a sort of sad expression, listening intently to the words though he did not understand them. It made her happy to know that her son would have some contact with her past, even a single root back to the cold soil from which she sprouted. Once, she caught tears forming in her eyes as she told a fairy tale her mother had read to her over and over as a girl. Though she had read this story hundreds of times and knew every word by heart, she became too choked up to continue speaking. The young man came and sat by her side, putting one thin arm around her shaking shoulders. There he sat, unspeaking until Heliodora had cried herself dry and she continued reading as if nothing had happened.

Christmas passed by, as did the New Year and her birthday. Solus bought her a diamond necklace and a summer trip to Hawaii. It would be her first time on an airplane, he told her excitedly, considering they ended up crossing the Atlantic by boat. The young man instead gifted her a copy of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. It wasn’t new, the pages had been warped by water and the threads on the cover were wearing away, but he presented it to her with great enthusiasm. The inscription on the inside cover read: “To Heliodora, who I find curiouser and curiouser each time we meet. Good luck on all your future adventures.”

He wanted to believe he wasn’t someone who dwelled on unpleasant things, it was the other way around, unpleasant things tended to dwell on him. A side effect of spending so much time on his own. This town was far from welcoming to anyone not white enough to pass, which made it a bit hard to find places to go. At school, most people avoided him. If he performed well, they would nod their heads and say “as expected”. If he performed poorly, they would say “there really is no saving those people, is there?” At some point he had ceased caring.

To dream was a privilege reserved for those with a future. For those without, daring to dream had consequences.

They were both still young and full of passion and for a moment Heliodora’s fears dissipated. To feel she was wanted, to feel she was wanted. The sacrifices she had made to come here would have all been worth it for that. She could lose herself in that want. But it was not to be. Yes, they fell laughing onto the sheets. Yes, Solus’s face lit up with joy as he admired how beautiful his wife was, how dedicated she was to his satisfaction. Yet when the time came to join in making love, that faraway look reemerged and Heliodora understood that she had lost.

“This wasn’t your first time?” That’s all he could think to say. “Attacked? Never. Selling my company? Hardly.” “Who’s buying?” “Anyone who can pay. You’d be surprised at the variety. Women, men, anyone bored enough and rich enough to throw their money away.” “Why?” “Who knows. Guess a lot more people are a lot more lonely than they’d like to admit.” The young man paused and flicked his gaze over to where Solus was standing. “Oh. You mean why do I do it? Well, not everyone’s so safe and secure as you Mister War Hero and Factory Owner. I’ve got to eat, don’t I? Have to pay my damn tuition. You couldn’t possibly believe that I could survive solely on what you pay me to teach your wife.” Solus was left aghast. Instead of making any kind of admission of fault in himself he said, “You should go to the hospital.” The young man laughed. It was just about all he knew how to do. Just about all he could do at this moment. “I’ll see you and Heliodora on Tuesday.” Solus retrieved his hat from the counter where he had left it and made his way toward the exit. Halfway there, he stopped. “How much?” he asked. The young man smiled sadly. “What are you offering?”