#certainly no pop up parade

[mephxles]

I don't need the edward figure but fuck it sasuke needs a friend

[ms-demeanor]

Why reblog machine-generated art?

When I was ten years old I took a photography class where we developed black and white photos by projecting light on papers bathed in chemicals. If we wanted to change something in the image, we had to go through a gradual, arduous process called dodging and burning.

When I was fifteen years old I used photoshop for the first time, and I remember clicking on the clone tool or the blur tool and feeling like I was cheating.

When I was twenty eight I got my first smartphone. The phone could edit photos. A few taps with my thumb were enough to apply filters and change contrast and even spot correct. I was holding in my hand something more powerful than the huge light machines I'd first used to edit images.

When I was thirty six, just a few weeks ago, I took a photo class that used Lightroom Classic and again, it felt like cheating. It made me really understand how much the color profiles of popular web images I'd been seeing for years had been pumped and tweaked and layered with local edits to make something that, to my eyes, didn't much resemble photography. To me, photography is light on paper. It's what you capture in the lens. It's not automatic skin smoothing and a local filter to boost the sky. This reminded me a lot more of the photomanipulations my friend used to make on deviantart; layered things with unnatural colors that put wings on buildings or turned an eye into a swimming pool. It didn't remake the images to that extent, obviously, but it tipped into the uncanny valley. More real than real, more saturated more sharp and more present than the actual world my lens saw. And that was before I found the AI assisted filters and the tool that would identify the whole sky for you, picking pieces of it out from between leaves.

You know, it's funny, when people talk about artists who might lose their jobs to AI they don't talk about the people who have already had to move on from their photo editing work because of technology. You used to be able to get paid for basic photo manipulation, you know? If you were quick with a lasso or skilled with masks you could get a pretty decent chunk of change by pulling subjects out of backgrounds for family holiday cards or isolating the pies on the menu for a mom and pop. Not a lot, but enough to help. But, of course, you can just do that on your phone now. There's no need to pay a human for it, even if they might do a better job or be more considerate toward the aesthetic of an image.

And they certainly don't talk about all the development labs that went away, or the way that you could have trained to be a studio photographer if you wanted to take good photos of your family to hang on the walls and that digital photography allowed in a parade of amateurs who can make dozens of iterations of the same bad photo until they hit on a good one by sheer volume and luck; if you want to be a good photographer everyone can do that why didn't you train for it and spend a long time taking photos on film and being okay with bad photography don't you know that digital photography drove thousands of people out of their jobs.

My dad told me that he plays with AI the other day. He hosts a movie podcast and he puts up thumbnails for the downloads. In the past, he'd just take a screengrab from the film. Now he tells the Bing AI to make him little vignettes. A cowboy running away from a rhino, a dragon arm-wrestling a teddy bear. That kind of thing. Usually based on a joke that was made on the show, or about the subject of the film and an interest of the guest.

People talk about "well AI art doesn't allow people to create things, people were already able to create things, if they wanted to create things they should learn to create things." Not everyone wants to make good art that's creative. Even fewer people want to put the effort into making bad art for something that they aren't passionate about. Some people want filler to go on the cover of their youtube video. My dad isn't going to learn to draw, and as the person who he used to ask to photoshop him as Ant-Man because he certainly couldn't pay anyone for that kind of thing, I think this is a great use case for AI art. This senior citizen isn't going to start cartooning and at two recordings a week with a one-day editing turnaround he doesn't even really have the time for something like a Fiverr commission. This is a great use of AI art, actually.

I also know an artist who is going Hog Fucking Wild creating AI art of their blorbos. They're genuinely an incredibly talented artist who happens to want to see their niche interest represented visually without having to draw it all themself. They're posting the funny and good results to a small circle of mutuals on socials with clear information about the source of the images; they aren't trying to sell any of the images, they're basically using them as inserts for custom memes. Who is harmed by this person saying "i would like to see my blorbo lasciviously eating an ice cream cone in the is this a pigeon meme"?

The way I use machine-generated art, as an artist, is to proof things. Can I get an explosion to look like this. What would a wall of dead computer monitors look like. Would a ballerina leaping over the grand canyon look cool? Sometimes I use AI art to generate copyright free objects that I can snip for a collage. A lot of the time I use it to generate ideas. I start naming random things and seeing what it shows me and I start getting inspired. I can ask CrAIon for pose reference, I can ask it to show me the interior of spaces from a specific angle.

I profoundly dislike the antipathy that tumblr has for AI art. I understand if people don't want their art used in training pools. I understand if people don't want AI trained on their art to mimic their style. You should absolutely use those tools that poison datasets if you don't want your art included in AI training. I think that's an incredibly appropriate action to take as an artist who doesn't want AI learning from your work.

However I'm pretty fucking aggressively opposed to copyright and most of the "solid" arguments against AI art come down to "the AIs viewed and learned from people's copyrighted artwork and therefore AI is theft rather than fair use" and that's a losing argument for me. In. Like. A lot of ways. Primarily because it is saying that not only is copying someone's art theft, it is saying that looking at and learning from someone's art can be defined as theft rather than fair use.

Also because it's just patently untrue.

But that doesn't really answer your question. Why reblog machine-generated art? Because I liked that piece of art.

It was made by a machine that had looked at billions of images - some copyrighted, some not, some new, some old, some interesting, many boring - and guided by a human and I liked it. It was pretty. It communicated something to me. I looked at an image a machine made - an artificial picture, a total construct, something with no intrinsic meaning - and I felt a sense of quiet and loss and nostalgia. I looked at a collection of automatically arranged pixels and tasted salt and smelled the humidity in the air.

I liked it.

I don't think that all AI art is ugly. I don't think that AI art is all soulless (i actually think that 'having soul' is a bizarre descriptor for art and that lacking soul is an equally bizarre criticism). I don't think that AI art is bad for artists. I think the problem that people have with AI art is capitalism and I don't think that's a problem that can really be laid at the feet of people curating an aesthetic AI art blog on tumblr.

Machine learning isn't the fucking problem the problem is massive corporations have been trying hard not to pay artists for as long as massive corporations have existed (isn't that a b-plot in the shape of water? the neighbor who draws ads gets pushed out of his job by product photography? did you know that as recently as ten years ago NewEgg had in-house photographers who would take pictures of the products so users wouldn't have to rely on the manufacturer photos? I want you to guess what killed that job and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't AI)

Am I putting a human out of a job because I reblogged an AI-generated "photo" of curtains waving in the pale green waters of an imaginary beach? Who would have taken this photo of a place that doesn't exist? Who would have painted this hypersurrealistic image? What meaning would it have had if they had painted it or would it have just been for the aesthetic? Would someone have paid for it or would it be like so many of the things that artists on this site have spent dozens of hours on only to get no attention or value for their work?

My worst ratio of hours to notes is an 8-page hand-drawn detailed ink comic about getting assaulted at a concert and the complicated feelings that evoked that took me weeks of daily drawing after work with something like 54 notes after 8 years; should I be offended if something generated from a prompt has more notes than me? What does that actually get the blogger? Clout? I believe someone said that popularity on tumblr gets you one thing and that is yelled at.

What do you get out of this? Are you helping artists right now? You're helping me, and I'm an artist. I've wanted to unload this opinion for a while because I'm sick of the argument that all Real Artists think AI is bullshit. I'm a Real Artist. I've been paid for Real Art. I've been commissioned as an artist.

And I find a hell of a lot of AI art a lot more interesting than I find human-generated corporate art or Thomas Kincaid (but then, I repeat myself).

There are plenty of people who don't like AI art and don't want to interact with it. I am not one of those people. I thought the gay sex cats were funny and looked good and that shitposting is the ideal use of a machine image generation: to make uncopyrightable images to laugh at.

I think that tumblr has decided to take a principled stand against something that most people making the argument don't understand. I think tumblr's loathing for AI has, generally speaking, thrown weight behind a bunch of ideas that I think are going to be incredibly harmful *to artists specifically* in the long run.

Anyway. If you hate AI art and you don't want to interact with people who interact with it, block me.

[thatonegayship]

What Bill wants for his big day:

So Bill doesn't have a birthday sure, but is there some sort of Bill Cipher Day? Demonic celebration?

..and if so, does dip know?

Oh man, there probably is! Bill's absolutely the kind of guy to have a whole Day Of Celebration devoted to himself. Likely it's not on any sort of earthly calendar basis, too, so it'll come up at some time when Dipper least expects it.

Because, c'mon. Bill's fantastically knowledgeable - but he's absolute shit at filling Dipper in on important information beforehand.

[tired-teacher-blog]

The only time Aizawa's face loses that conspicuous look of boredom or intimidating scowl it exclusively parades, is when he's fallen into a deep slumber, and it's a rare view that you make sure to soak up every night before drifting off yourself.

You never get tired of watching him at peace after a long day's work, perfectly relaxed as his chest rises and falls rhythmically while little snores escape him, and the urge to pinch his cheeks and smooch all over that handsome face of his, is a nightly struggle to avoid.

What you do however, is gently poke the smooth skin between his usually furrowed eyebrows, running your finger down along the bridge of his nose and softly pecking his slightly parted lips over and over again until he unknowingly lets out a faint groan against your mouth, and that's when you quickly pull back before he actually wakes up.

He is cute, unbelievably so, and you pride yourself on the many pictures that you've taken of him in secret, over the years while he slept, that and being the only one fortunate enough to see this vulnerable side of him.

_ "I love you.. Shouta.."

You never forget to utter the reminder before allowing yourself to melt into his embrace and fall asleep, even while knowing that he certainly cannot hear you at the moment..

That's how your nights usually go, however, tonight is different, tonight your mind is going a little too wild that you suddenly find yourself dying to see his peaceful expression turn into a twisted and desperate one.

A devilish idea pops up in your brain so you immediately aim for his lower half, working his boxers down his hips until you're staring at his limp penis, and the smirk curving up your lips at the sight of it is one of excitement and confidence in your skills to harden and thicken it up with a mere touch, because that's how well you know his body..

You crawl down a bit further and kneel between his legs before gently taking his cock in your hand and placing a soft peck right on its head.

Your eagerness grows as you feel that familiar little twitch right under your lips, and you can't help but peck him there again before licking a long stripe along the underside of his length until you reach the smooth head again and twirl your tongue over its pinkish surface.

It's working, even in his sleep, he's responding to your teasing in a wonderful manner, his cock is finally coming to life, fully erect and already throbbing.

You move your hand up an down along his length while keeping your eyes on his face, his expression is finally changing just like you've hoped.. his eyebrows are twitching and his jaw is clenched as little groans and whines are rippling through his chest while his body twisted slightly.

You want more, you want him to open his eyes and see what you're doing, you want to relish the surprised look that's bound to appear on his face.

_ "Let's try something else, shall we?" you mumble to yourself in a playful tone before dipping your head to take as much of him as you could, enveloping the thickness in your mouth and swirling your tongue around every protruding vein before sucking on it like a lollipop.

One of your hands move down to fumble with his fat balls, while the other slides past the delicate fabric of your panties to try and soothe your growing need.

_ "Princess.. fuck.. what are you doing?"

He's finally up, a confused look on his face as he observed you for a second, but it's soon replaced with a dark animalistic one that sends a shiver up your spine.

_ "I'm just having some fun by myself." you reply with a smile that soon disappears when you find yourself pinned down beneath him.

_ "You've had your fun.. it's my turn now." and he pushes your legs apart before settling between them, pressing his raging thickness against your thigh, as a show for what's awaiting..

Dividers by : @/cafekitsune

[minarisplaything]

High Rise ft. IVE Wonyoung

Pairing: IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.4k Tags: Daddy kink, Exhibitionism, Choking A/N: i said i would didn't i? probably the fastest i've made a fic recently which also means please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes you find. might not be my best work but it sure was fun to write o7 Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction/parody

Dating a k-pop idol wasn’t easy. Especially when you were a so-called commoner. There were the obvious reasons, like you had to keep your relationship a secret until they reached their thirties, if you made it that long.And the not-so-obvious reasons; like watching your girlfriend parade around in sexy stage outfits and having to contain your desire to fuck her in them.

Or maybe that was just you.

When your girlfriend was Jang Wonyoung, a hyper-popular It girl – you cringed at even thinking those words aloud – the restrictions were even worse. Like that one time you had wanted to bring her flowers at her group's concert in Seoul and had to be snuck backstage with a bag over your head. Or the time someone had caught the two of you flirting candidly and Wonyoung blurted out that you were her cousin to save face. Embarrassing but somehow also cute when it came from her.

All this was to say it wasn’t easy.

But it certainly wasn’t without its benefits.

“Fuck, that one looks so good, princess,” you praised.

You snapped another photo as Wonyoung posed, biting her bottom lips and giving the camera a smoldering look. She hooked her fingers into her hip-hugging jeans, tugging them slightly as you quickly snapped another series of photos.

Honestly, you were somewhat shocked when Wonyoung told you her idea. It had felt provocative, mature even, and thus far each photo had proved that assumption right. But you rarely, if ever said no to her, even if her motivations were somewhat questionable. In fact, you wondered if this was all your fault.

“You left a like on Yuna-nim’s photo,” Wonyoung had said at the time. Her tone carried an accusatory hint.

“Did I?” you had stammered, trying to play naive. “I was just scrolling my feed and must’ve double tapped.”

“So you follow them?”

“Them?”

“Other girl groups,” Wonyoung clarified.

One thing you had learned about the IVE princess was that while she was sweet as a button on most days, she carried a jealous streak that verged on volatile. Sharing was not in her programming, least of all when it came to you.

You had recognized the trap forming but it had been too late. “Well, I mean, just to keep up. You know you do challenges sometimes and appear on their feeds.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked to the side and slight pout was all the answer you needed.

That week you had gone without any physical contact from your girlfriend. Though she made sure to send you the filthiest selfies possible throughout. Which, oddly, worked. Because no matter how much you touched yourself to the photos she sent, it didn’t compare to the real thing.

It had seemed like the incident was over and in the past but as you snapped a few more photos of Wonyoung by the windowsill, you briefly wondered if this stemmed from it as well.

“Are you sure you’re going to post these on Instagram?” you asked, after a particularly racy photo.

“Mhm,” Wonyoung nodded. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Remember the bathroom?”

“Oh, I remember.”

You also remembered the ones that hadn’t made it to social media and were sent directly to you. But this still felt even more daring than this.

“How many likes do you think this will get?” she asked, coolly, giving the camera a sultry look. An innocent question. At least on the surface. But you remembered her comment one night as you two relaxed together.

“Besides, it’s to promote the sponsor, that’s all. This will get the most engagements,” she added. Her gaze dropped and a small smirk formed on her lips, “In fact, I’d say it’s already working.”

You followed her gaze, looking down to see a rather obvious tent had formed in your sweatpants. You laughed, a flush coloring your cheeks. “Well, shit. Can you blame me?”

“I guess I can’t,” Wonyoung said coolly.

The way she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, spoke to more mischief however.

“Wony,” you wet your dry lips, “Are we still doing the shoot?”

“Mhm “ she nodded cutely, “Of course.”

She did another pose, pushing the waist of the jeans down to expose the lace underwear she had on underneath.

“You know, I love it up here. It’s perfect,” Wonyoung said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah…” you muttered, more focused on the sight of her exposed abs and smooth skin than her question.

By here she was referring to the penthouse you were using for the photoshoot. Funny enough, she could easily afford a place like this on her own. Though that would only spur on more talk about inequality among the rookie group.

“Being so high up…” she turned her head to look out the window. Your breath caught as you watched delicate fingers slip inside of her jeans. “We can see everything but no one can see us. Even if we were naked against this window they’d never know…”

Now you weren’t the smartest bulb in the room. In fact, sometimes you wondered if it was your self-proclaimed himbo status that Wonyoung liked most about you. But even you could put two and two together. And Wonyoung’s words combined with the side-eyed glance she was giving you were all screaming one thing.

“I could show my naked body to all of Seoul and no one. would. know.”

Her tongue pronounced every syllable while she locked eyes with you. As sweet and kind as Wonyoung could be she had an undeniable minx side to her. You were also fairly certain your girlfriend got off on the power high of being such a desired person but you had never actually confirmed that.

If you were starting to get hard when she pointed it out earlier, you were practically aching now. You tossed your phone onto the couch and made your way over to where Wonyoung was by the window. She let out a delighted squeal as you pushed her up against the glass, kissing her passionately.

Your hands moved against her stomach, feeling her toned abs that were shown off by the outfit she was wearing. Honestly, you should send a bouquet to whatever designer sent this to her to promote. You nipped at Wonyoung's bottom lip, your hands sliding into her unbuttoned pants to squeeze her ass.

"It took you long enough," Wonyoung gasped, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "I thought was going to have to beg you to fuck me."

Your cock twitched, straining painfully against your jeans, "You still could you know."

She must have been in a good mood because the idol looked at you with large eyes, biting on her bottom lip. "Please fuck me against the window, daddy."

Oh.

You see, it had taken some time but you learned that your girlfriend had two modes. The arrogant queen who knew all of Seoul was her playground and made you worship at her feet. Then there was the submissive princess who begged to be pleased until she was satisfied. Often her mood was some mixture of the two but neither one left you unsatisfied.

"If that's what the Princess wants," you growled.

A delighted smile crossed the idol's features followed by another joyful squeal when you spun her around to face the window. Her hands rose, catching herself as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. You could see the aroused flush creeping up her neck and coloring her round cheeks.

"Didn't you say something about showing everyone your tits?" you whispered in her ear.

Not waiting for a response, you pulled her top down, exposing her tits to the cool glass of the window earning a gasp from Wonyoung in response. You pressed further against her, the bulge in your pants pushing against her ass.

"This whole shoot was just to rile me up, wasn't it?" you said, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. Your hands moved quickly to yank the jean pants she was wearing, exposing the white lace panties that she had teased you with a peek of earlier.

"Maybe," Wonyoung mewled, arching her back perfectly.

Your hands hooked into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to reveal her bare ass to your hungry gaze, "Bullshit. You knew what you were doing."

"Maybe I just wanted to remind you of what's right in front of you," she said.

There it was. That switch up she was capable of. It also confirmed your theory that your girlfriend hadn't exactly forgiven and forgotten about the Instagram incident. Well, there was no time better than now to put the matter to bed. You gripped your cock, slipping it between her legs to get it slick from her dripping sex.

"Oh, I'm well aware of what's in front of me," you started. Slowly you began to slip your thick cock inside of her, inch by inch with each syllable. "The most beautiful." More. "Talented." More. "Gorgeous." More. "Perfect." More. "Princess."

"Fuck!" Wonyoung moaned, her forehead bracing against the window.

"Is the princess feeling full?"

"So, so full…" she cooed.

"And I didn't even get to mention how good a girlfriend you are," you teased.

You could feel her pussy quivering around your length, stretching to accommodate the familiar intrusion of your cock. Wonyoung's hands were splayed against the windows of the high-rise, her ass pushed out and into you. She was on full display and only you were lucky enough to see it.

You could take it slow with steady, languid strokes, gently fucking your girlfriend against the window. But something told you that wasn't what she nor you wanted at that moment. Your fingers flexed around her waist, pulling out your cock until just the tip remained inside of her before thrusting your entire length back inside of her. Wonyoung's body jolted with pleasure as she braced her nude body against the window.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Harder. "To know how much you turn me on." Faster. "To see how fucking hard you get me." Deeper. "No one else makes me like this." Repeat.

A mixture of mewls and moans fell from the idol's mouth at your relentless rhythm. Her head fell forward, her cheek pressed up against the glass. Perspiration was starting to form across her flawless skin and you had to resist the urge to lean forward and lick it up. You wanted to prove a point, to fuck Wonyoung to the point of exhaustion for the whole city to see. After that maybe you'd enjoy the little perversions.

"You probably say that to every - fuck - every girl," Wonyoung panted, glancing at you from over her shoulder. "You're probably just waiting to move onto the next idol you're drooling over."

She didn't say it with enough conviction for you to believe she truly felt that way. For starters, while Wonyoung may get jealous, she was not insecure. At least, not enough to ever think another idol was above her. It was more often a toxic possessive kind of jealousy. But nonetheless, in the heat of the moment you'd take the bait.

"Is that what you think?" he said, your breathing growing heavy with your harsh thrust. Conversation wasn't exactly easy at this pace. "Did you miss what I said earlier, huh?"

One hand moved from her waist to slip around Wonyoung's throat. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat as you squeezed. For a passing second there was no sound save for the repeated slaps of skin against skin as your hips were flush against Wonyoung's ass each time you entered her.

"I only want you," you finally gasp. "Always you."

Rather than another vulgar display to go along with your words, you merely lean over her, capturing her lips in a sideways kiss. It's messy and imperfect but it's also loving and passionate. Your tongues dance together all while your bodies remain intertwined. You can feel Wonyoung pussy quivering around your cock intensely as she moans into your mouth. When you pull back, you look at your girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you just cum from that?" you asked.

"S-shut up," Wonyoung retorted. You noticed a bright red hue of embarrassment coloring her cheeks before she hid her face, "Don't stop until you finish inside of me,"

It was always adorable when she continued trying to be dominant after her own orgasm. However, her words had an undeniable effect on you. "If that's what the princess wants."

You returned to the task at hand, focusing your efforts solely on chasing your first release and Wonyoung's second orgasm.

"Daddy," Wonyoung mewled, finding her voice. "I want you to cum, daddy. I want you to cum deep inside my tight pussy.""

You had a sinking suspicion that her words were payback for causing her embarrassing moments earlier. Her attempt at provoking you to blow your load sooner than you had intended to.

Regardless it worked to immediate effect. Your hips jerked, slamming against hers from behind. Your sweat-drenched body pressed flush against Wonyoung, pushing her up against the high-rise window. Your cock twitched, ropes of your sticky seed shooting inside of her womb as her walls convulsed around your length.

Of course the two things that pushed her over the edge would be you saying how you loved her and her revelling the power she had to make you cum on the spot. Truly a representative of her duality.

After a moment had passed and you began to regain your bearings you pressed a kiss to Wonyoung's shoulder.

"That was incredible, Wony," you muttered.

"I know," she said, her form practically radiating. "You weren't bad either."

You let out a chuckle, placing another lazy kiss to her skin, "Maybe we should've included that in the photoshoot."

Wonyoung smiled but didn't immediately respond. After a moment of delay she turned in your arms to look at you.

"Did you mean all those things you said?" she asked.

Her wide eyes looked at you and you reached up to brush aside a strand of sweat soaked hair. There was no hesitation in your response when you answered her.

"Absolutely. And don't you think otherwise for a second."

A smile beamed across the idol's face and she leaned forward, burying her face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around her and quietly you wondered if you weren't the luckiest man in the world.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

[novemberheart]

{overview} Another milestone in your relationship with the pack begins, but some members want it to move faster….

{warnings} cursing, mentions of needles and incisions, mentions of sex (nothing really graphic), fem reader, sappy scene, reader being *slightly* objectified, poly141 some smexual smention 😉

Chapter 9 <- Chapter 10 -> Chapter 11

“You're still here.” you smiled, rubbing at your eyes. John smiled at you. He was leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee.

“Don't mind me.” Simon yawned from the couch. “Wouldn't want to interrupt anything.” you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don't worry. I'll let you know if you're interrupting.” you teased, walking past him to go to the bathroom.

“Her bedhead is rather endearing,” John commented after you left.

“Don't get too excited. Not sure Kyle’s ass can take anymore.” Simon grunted. John just chuckled.

“Or Johnny’s,” John added, causing Simon’s head to snap back at him.

“You bastards said no group shite until I got better.” Simon reminded.

“Think Kyle filmed some of it. I'll have him send it to you.” John smirked.

“Thank you,” Simon growled, turning back around. You luckily missed that conversation, popping back out after you had brushed your teeth.

“Go pick out an outfit, pretty girl. We have some things to do today.” John spoke, causing you to flush.

“Fun things?” you hinted.

“A mix.” He replied not giving too much away. You huffed heading back towards your bedroom.

You decided to finally wear something one of the boys had gotten for you during your shopping spree. It was a flowy knee-length dress with spaghetti straps. They certainly had taste- you'd give them that. You fixed your hair and made some minor adjustments to your face. It was also still a bit chilly outside so you paired it with a cardigan.

A rumble of approval vibrated in John’s chest as you stepped out. He was pleased with how nice you always looked (even when you just woke up) and he couldn't help but stand a bit taller when people did a double take as you walked by. He would blame it on alpha pride, but he knows Johnny and Kyle enjoy parading you around just as much.

Simon stayed quiet on the couch, eyeing you up and down.

“Ready?” John asked. You nodded your head following him out the door. You stopped, prancing back to the couch where Simon was. He stayed still, but you knew you weren't being sneaky. You leaned over the back of the couch pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he could swat you away. You were surprised when he made no move to.

“I miss you already.” you sighed playfully, skipping back over to John, who was thoroughly enjoying himself at the sight before him.

“I do that to people.” Simon gruffed, making you chuckle.

“Got a daredevil streak in ya, hmm?” John smiled down at you as you walked.

“Just a bit,” you whispered, with a smirk.

“Good girl. He could use some roughing up.”

You immediately understood why he didn't share with you where you were going. You frowned heavily as you approached the medical center.

“‘Nough with the face, sweetheart.” John soothed. He ran the back of his pointer finger against your cheek, causing them to raise in a tiny smile. “We’ll get you chipped then I’ll take you out on a date. How's that sound?” he hummed, watching you as you began to soften to the idea.

“Alright.” you drew out, entering the building as he held the door open for you.

The nurse who ended up coming to chip you was the same one you saw in Simon's hospital room.

“Look at you!” She smiled, running her hands up and down your arms. “You look good, hun. How's the big one?” she questions, getting the supplies set up.

“He's good.” You smiled, trying not to look at the sharp objects.

“Glad to hear. Have you ever been chipped before?”

You shook your head.

“Well this is what it looks like.” she shared, showing you a small disk. It was a bit smaller than a dime.

“That doesn't look too scary.” you swallowed.

“Right? And Dr. Hathaway will give you a shot so you won't feel anything.” she soothed. Just then the door opened and a bubbly woman in a doctor's coat entered.

“Alrighty, now I know how nervous you must be so let's get this done.” she sang. Despite her chipper attitude, her accent was very posh. John moved away from the wall and turned your head to face him, using his other hand to hold your hair out of the way. His thumb rubbed against your cheek and you allowed yourself to relax into him.

“Thanks, Alpha.” the doctor praised his actions, giving her the perfect view of behind your ear. The title made your eyes widen. What business did she have calling him that? Maybe it was a cultural thing. Where you were from the only people who called an alpha ‘alpha’ were pack members. You didn't have to dwell on it long.

“John is fine.” he politely corrected. Your eyes peered up at him and the corner of his lips lifted. Your hands reached up grabbing a hold of his wrist and hand, wanting to keep him as close as possible.

“Alright, love. You are going to feel a small pinch.” Dr. Hathaway warned. You weren't too worried about the needle, just about the incision. John continued to rub soft circles against your cheek and you stared ahead at the picture of sailboats on the wall. “Alright, love. You are all done. Great job.” Dr. Hathaway cheered, giving your arm a gentle squeeze.

“I didn't even feel anything,” you said. “Thank you,” you said to both the nurse (whose name you should really learn) and Dr. Hathaway.

“Thank you,” John repeated after you. “Good girl.” John praised, pressing a quick kiss against the top of your head. He let go of you, all the warmth leaving your body.

“Thank you,” you said suddenly. He looked at you with a quirked brow. “For being gentle with me. I really appreciate it.” you cleared your throat beginning to feel tears well up in your eyes. You quickly blinked them back.

“It's my job as your Alpha and it's something I’ll always be happy to do.” He said softly. The two of you stared at each other for a long moment. An understanding beginning to grow between the two of you. In the back of both of your minds, this situation was admittedly a bit temporary. John had you on a short leash, wanting Simon to get better more than worrying about your feelings. If you didn't fit he wouldn't think twice about sending you back. But you did fit. Perfectly. You got Simon out of his shell. Johnny’s smile hasn't left in a week. Kyle had a new air about him, more confident and excited. Hell, the two muppets raced each other home every day so they can be the first one to kiss you on the cheek.

He didn't even want to admit the things you did to him.

And then there was you. Kate had been right. You had been looking for an out since you arrived. You might have had one on the first day, but that felt so far away now. None of them had done anything to prove to you that they were an incapable, unworthy pack.

It seemed both of you were staring the rest of your lives in the face.

John had ended up taking you to the movies. It was a silly lighthearted comedy. About halfway through he worked up the courage to let his hand wander over to your side of the seat. His fingers skimmed against your knee, watching you out of the corners of his eye for any signs of discomfort. Your hands reached down and grabbed his, resting his hand on your lap. You tangled your fingers together, melting a bit when you realized two of your hands could fit in one of his.

You rested your cheek against his arm, trying your hardest to hold onto your purr. He was happy, you could tell by the sudden warmth entering your nose. You breathed in quickly, trying to absorb as much of the smell as you could. He must not have worn scent blockers today. How did you not smell him before? They must've just worn off. You wondered if he did that on purpose.

Fog and campfire, with a slight hint of tobacco. The fog was fresh and light, but then you got the warmth of a campfire. Smoking can change anyone's scent- not by a lot, but there will always be an edge of it. It must be different from what Simon smokes. Johns complements the warm, firey scent whereas Simons sticks out a bit more.

He leaned down and you wondered if you overstepped. “Gonna have a headache if you keep breathin’ me in like that,” he murmured. You looked up at him- a bit hazy from the scent. He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, adjusting in his seat. “Pretty thing,” he grumbled, trying to focus his attention back on the movie.

“How’d you do?” Kyle questioned as soon as you bounded back in. You were excited to see him. You hadn't seen much of him the past two days because he was busy training some ‘FNGs’ as Johnny had called them.

“You were right it didn't hurt,” you affirmed. He was in the kitchen working on his second bowl of cereal. You hesitantly moved a bit closer to him, and he quickly pulled you closer, tucking you into his side. His fingers brushed against your hip

“Can I interest you in some cereal?” he questioned. “It's gourmet, straight from the finest factory in Albuquerque, New Mexico,” he said in a French accent causing you to giggle.

“Yes, please.” He quickly got a bowl, filling it for you before you could even think about doing it yourself. “My legs are cold. I’m going to change quickly.” you excused yourself, darting to your bedroom.

“You smell good on her,” Kyle spoke up, eyeing his alpha.

“Drivin’ me bloody crazy in the theater. If she smells like that normally can you imagine how she smells in her heat? We’re gonna have to get a cabin in the middle of nowhere.” John groaned, leaning his elbows against the counter. Kyle chuckled.

“That might not be too bad of an idea actually. I was looking in the handbook and we are allowed ten days off a year to deal with heats.” Kyle explained. John sighed. He really needs to look over the omega section of the handbook. He wouldn't want you to miss out on something just because he wasn't diligent.

“Something to think about.” John agreed.

“Is it okay if I sleep with my door open?” you questioned.

“Course,” John answered instantly. “You been havin’ trouble?”

You scrunched your face a bit and nodded.

“I've never been a good sleeper,” you explained. John nodded his head in understanding.

“You can always sleep with me, Bonnie!” Johnny called from the couch. You snickered at the enthusiasm in his voice. “Wasn't kidding.” he pressed with a smirk on his face.

“Tell you what, I’ll try with my door open tonight, and if that doesn't work I’ll come hunt you down,” you promised.

“I'll take that.” he compromised. You got your things ready to go take a shower.

“What are you doing?” Simon questioned, leaning over to peer at Johnny’s phone.

“Trying to find spooky sounds off of YouTube,” Johnny replied. “Haunted house, maybe?”

“You are not scaring her into sleeping with you, fucking nutter.” Simon scolded, ripping his phone out of his hands.

“You're right L.T. I've turned into a desperate man.” he sighed.

Helloooooo! Hope everyone liked this choppy chapter! Chapter 11 will be posted in three days! It's a bit of a rough one 😬 Friendly reminder: reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated, and don't be afraid to pop by my inbox and say hi (and tell me your deepest darkest secrets)

[waitimcomingtoo]

He’ll Have To Get In Line

Pairing: Peeta Mellark x Reader

Synopsis: Peeta amps up the star crossed lovers act when Finnick takes a liking to you

Masterlist

As you waited to get into your chariot for your second tribute parade, you calmed your nerves by petting the horses. You kept your head down with a plan to stay away from the other tributes until you knew what you were dealing with. Your plan was tossed aside when one of the tributes, Finnick Odair, saw you by yourself and approached you. He was noisily munching on a sugar cube as he walked up to you, making you look up. You noticed his bare chest, and then perfect chiseled face before gulping.

“Sugar?” He asked you.

“What?” You asked, too distracted by his lack of apparel that you weren’t listening.

“Sugar cubes. They’re good.” He explained as he held up a sugar cube.

“No thank you. I think those are for the horses.”

“Eh, who cares. They get enough of them. And they’re not the ones headed into a death game, right?” He chuckled and popped another into his mouth. You weren’t expected him to make light of your situation since no one else ever really did so you faked a laugh along with him.

“That was a fake laugh. But I’ll forgive you since we’re friends now.” Finnick said as he popped another sugar cube into his mouth. You felt embarrassed that he caught on to your inauthenticity but he didn’t sound upset. He had a way of being very blunt in what he said but charismatic with how he said it.

“We’re friends? We don’t know anything about each other.” You pointed out.

“But we share two things in common. We won our games and we’re painfully good looking. Now, come on. Try a cube. They won’t have these in the area.” He said and held one out to you. You didn’t comment on him calling you good looking but took the cube from the palm of his hand with a coy smile.

“Taste it. It’s sweet.” He said with a debonair grin. You looked him in the eyes and bit into the cube, tasting a sweetness you had never known.

“You like it, don’t you?” He said and already knew your answer.

“I might.” You admitted as you popped the rest of the cube in your mouth.

“I knew you would. I saw you standing over here with the horses and said to myself, that girl likes it sweet. I just knew I had to offer you one.”

“Well, thank you. You were right.” You smiled and realized you had been smiling like a child the entire conversation so far. You quickly dropped your face and covered your mouth self consciously, but Finnick had already moved on.

“Oh my. Forgive me, I didn’t notice what you were wearing until now. Thats certainly a get up.” Finnick smirked as he looked you up and down.

“It’s for my district.” You said in embarrassment and covered yourself with your arms. The clothes Cinna had dressed you in were beautiful but far from something you’d pick for yourself.

“I know. I like it.” Finnick replied with a wink. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and the effortless charm he was just exuded and let your arms drop to your sides.

“Oh. Well, thank you. Cinna designed it.” You told him. The way Finnick was looking at you in the moment made you forget most things you knew, but nothing could make you forget to give credit to Cinna for his remarkable abilities.

“I should’ve known Cinna was behind this. He’s great. But it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. No one’s gonna be looking at your outfit.” Finnick shrugged and looked you up and down again.

“What makes you say that?” You frowned. Finnick smirked a little as he reached towards your face and tilted your chin up with his thumb. You sucked in a sharp breath and stayed perfectly still as he gazed into your eyes.

“That pretty face is gonna get all the attention. Who could look away?” Finnick asked.

“Pretty?” You asked in almost a whisper.

“Extremely. But I’m assuming there’s another name I can call you by. I’m Finnick. And you?”

“Y/n.”

“And so you are. Lovely name for a lovely girl.” Finnick said and shot you another wink.

You smiled at him and momentarily forgot all about the parade and your nerves. You were so focused on the handsome boy in front of you that you didn’t notice Peeta in the distance. He was staring daggers at Finnick and trying to figure out what would possibly warrant him needing to touch your face. When he saw you laugh at something Finnick had said in a louder laugh than he had ever heard from you, his jealousy got the better of him. He walked up to where you were and stood beside you.

“Oh, hi Peeta. This is Finnick.” You said and gestured to Finnick. Finnick gave Peeta a wink but it was different from the one he had given you. Peeta’s jaw clenched and he stood up a little straighter.

“The parade is gonna start soon. Shouldn’t you finish putting on your outfit?” Peeta asked Finnick.

“This is my outfit.” Finnick chuckled and gestured to his shirtless torso and skirt made of fishing net.

“Oh. Wow. It’s so….unique.” Peeta replied and made no effort to hide his sarcasm.

“I know. My stylist likes to play up the whole pretty boy Capital darling thing. He said wearing a shirt would dull my charm.” Finnick shrugged and flexed his arms a little. Peeta heard you gulp and felt white hot jealousy go through his veins.

“I think he’s right.” You said with a nervous laugh.

“Do you? So it’s working then? I’m charming you?” Finnick asked and took a step closer to you. Peeta couldn’t help but roll his eyes all the way to the ceiling.

“I don’t know if I’d call it charm. But you’re definitely evoking some emotion.” Peeta said with a tight smile. Finnicks eyes left yours for a second to clock Peeta. He looked him up and down and smirked a little.

“You know what I think? I think that you and I should train together. I’m sure we have a lot to teach each other.” Finnick said as he turned his attention back to you.

“Oh. Okay. Sure.” You shrugged.

“I’m looking forward to it. I’ll see you out there.” Finnick gave you one last wink before walking away. You immediately smiled and waved to him as he left.

“See you!” You called after him. Peeta stepped in front of you once Finnick was gone to bring your attention back to earth.

“He was so nice. He probably heard about me and wants to learn archery.” You said with a smile.

“Bullshit.” Peeta mumbled.

“Woah. You need to put a coin in the swear jar for that one.” You laughed in surprise and folded your arms.

“I’m sorry. That was rude of me.” Peeta said genuinely. He felt bad for popping your bubble just to ease his own jealousy.

“Hey, I’m just kidding. It was entertaining to hear you swear. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“I had it in me. I have a lot of things in me.” Peeta insisted and suddenly worried if you saw him as less of a man now that you’d met the muscular and valorous Finnick.

“Like what?” You chuckled and raised and eyebrow.

“Nothing. Never mind. What else did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I blacked out a little. But we talked about the horses. And sugar.”

“Really, that’s all? You guys were talking for a while.” Peeta frowned.

“Honestly, I didn’t do much talking. He came at me with so many compliments and I was stunned to silence.” You realized.

“Compliments? What did he say?” Peeta forced a laugh so he didn’t come off as jealous as he felt that another man was complimenting you. It wasn’t just that he complimented you, but that you clearly liked it.

“He said I was pretty.” You admitted with a shy smile on your face.

“That’s it?“ Peeta scoffed.

“Why? Do you think I’m not pretty?” You asked and touched your cheek insecurely.

“No! Of course I do.” Peeta quickly explained. “I think you’re so pretty. I just don’t touch your face to tell you that.”

“Yeah. I guess he was pretty friendly.” You agreed and kept your hand on your face as you replayed him touching your chin.

“If that’s your way of putting “handsy”, then yes. Very friendly.” Peeta mumbled.

“I don’t know why I even care what some boy thinks. I guess I’m just not used to the attention. I can’t even remember the last time someone told me I was pretty.” You admitted as you played with the frills on your outfit. Peeta felt bad for making little of what Finnick has said when it clearly meant something to you.

“Maybe people think it but just don’t tell you.” Peeta said in a soft voice.

“I doubt it.” You shrugged.

“Well, don’t. Because I happen to think that you’re-“

“Good luck out there, pretty girl.” Finnick called from his chariot across the room. You looked over at Finnick and waved to him.

“Thanks. You too.” You called after him.

“I’ll have my eye on you.” He winked at you as his horses pulled him out of the room. You didn’t know what to say to that so you have an half hearted thumbs up while Peeta rolled his eyes.

“So what do you think? Should we train with him?” You asked once he was gone.

“Absolutely not.” Peeta said immediately.

“Really? Why not? He was the youngest ever winner of the games. He’s gotta be good, right?”

“I’m sure he is. But he’s not someone we should keep around.” Peeta replied.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he asked me once if you and I were really in love or just putting on a show. And judging by his tone, I’m guessing he knows the answer.” Peeta whispered to you.

“He did?”

“Yeah. Right before telling me there isn’t gonna be any sugar or flour in the area so I’ll be out of luck.” Peeta grumbled, making you laugh. Peeta felt his jealousy return when he heard you laugh at Finnicks joke.

“Sorry. He was trying to be mean but that’s kinda funny.” You admitted.

“You think he’s funny?” Peeta asked quietly.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I only just met him.”

“Hm.” Peeta hummed and looked to the side.

“What?” You wondered.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“I know. That’s why I’m asking. You always have something to say. Until now, mysteriously. Is everything okay?” You asked him and touched his shoulder. Peeta looked at where your hand had been and sighed before looking in your eyes.

“He’s been talking about you a lot lately. Like, a lot a lot.” Peeta admitted.

“Really?” You asked and didn’t hide how intrigued you were.

“One of the other tributes told me brings you up every chance he gets ever since we won the last games. He even said…” Peeta began but then trailed off.

“He said what?” You urged and shook his arm.

“He said he’s gonna have a hard time killing someone so pretty.” Peeta admitted. Your curiosity about Finnick quickly turned into fear.

“Was he joking?” You asked quietly.

“I think so. But I don’t find it funny.”

“Neither do I.” You agreed. You finally stopped thinking about Finnick long enough to look at what Peeta was wearing for the tribute parade. His shirt was made of the same material as your corset and bared his arms. You had never seen his arms exposed like that and wanted him to know you liked it.

“I like what Cinna put you in.” You changed the subject and nodded towards his outfit.

“Thanks. It’s cool and all but definitely not something I’d chose for myself.” Peeta laughed softly as he climbed into the chariot.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’ve been waiting to show off these arms for a while.” You teased him. He held out his hand and helped you climb up into the chariot.

“You really do look beautiful tonight.” He told you.

“Thank you. But I don’t really feel like me. I feel like I’m wearing someone else’s clothes. And their face.” You admitted as you pressed your fingertips into your cheeks and felt the layers of makeup you had on.

“I know the feeling. But it’s just for tonight. You can be you again tomorrow.” Peeta assured you.

“So can you.” You told him with a soft smile. He held out his hand and you held it the way you did the first time you rode in the tribute parade.

“We can be us.” He said.

Following the parade, you dismounted your chariot and let Peeta pick you up to help you off the platform. Once your feet were in the ground, Finnick came running over to you and pulled you into an unexpected hug.

“There she is. Great job out there today.” He said once he pulled away. Peeta was once again staring daggers at him and took a step closer to your side.

“Thank you. But I didn’t really do much. I just kinda stood there.” You shrugged.

“That’s all you need to do. And I swear, you were the only one I had my eyes on.” Finnick said and touched your chin again. Peeta cleared his throat and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. Finnick noticed this and looked into Peeta’s eyes with a cocky smirk.

“So, what will you do with the rest of your evening now that the whole world wants to sleep with you?” Finnick asked you, making yours and Peeta’s eyes go wide.

“I don’t know about that.” You laughed nervously.

“Hm. Maybe just me then.” Finnick said with a causal shrug. Peeta clenched his jaw and stepped forward to let Finnick know he needed to back off. Finnick laughed and held up his hands in defense.

“Ah, I’m only kidding Peeta. I wouldn’t try to steal your girl right in front of you.” Finnick assured him.

“Oh. Good.” Peeta relaxed a little when he heard Finnick refer to you as “his” girl.

“I’d wait until your back is turned.” Finnick quickly followed up, making you laugh in surprise.

“Come on. I’m joking.” Finnick grinned and patted Peeta’s shoulder.

“Aren’t jokes supposed to be funny?” Peeta asked with a tight smile.

“Hey, I’m just messing with you guys. I’m like this with everyone. I just like to have a little fun so don’t take it out on me in the games, okay?” Finnick said and patted Peeta’s arm again, making Peeta yank it back and give him a look.

“I’ll let you guys go. We have a lot of training to do tomorrow so don’t keep her up all night, all right Peeta?” Finnick laughed as he walked away.

“No promises.” Peeta grumpily called after him. You stepped in front of Peeta and folded your arms once Finnick was gone.

“You’re gonna keep me up all night, huh?” You teased him.

“Shut up. He started it.” Peeta grumbled.

“And you certainly ended it. Come on. Let’s go to bed.” You said and started walking towards the sleeping facilities. Peeta followed you to the girls ward and lingered outside your door.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” Peeta asked with a bit of a whine in his voice.

“You want to? I assumed your want the big fancy bed in your room all to yourself.”

“I just don’t want people to get suspicious if they see us sleeping in separate rooms. Since we’re madly in love and all that.” Peeta explained with a coy smile.

“Good point. Come in.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him and let him into your room. You slept on his chest like you usually did and he forgot all about Finnick.

In the morning, you and Peeta went downstairs join the rest of the tributes for a welcome breakfast. When you walked into the room together, Finnick was the first to greet you.

“Good morning, you two. I hope you got some sleep.” Finnick said with a suggestion wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Not much.” You said through a yawn. The other tributes at the table snickered and exchanged knowing looks with each other. You realized how that sounded and felt embarrassed.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You whispered to Peeta.

“It’s okay. Roll with it. It helps our act.” He whispered back and gave your arm a squeeze.

“Here. I saved you a seat.” Finnick said and gestured to the two vacant seats beside him.

“Please, no. It’s too early for him.” Peeta leaned in to whine in your ear.

“We have to be polite. You’ll be okay.” You whispered back.

“Fine. But I’m not sitting next to him.”

“I’ll sit in the middle.” You assured him and took the seat right next to Finnick. Peeta watched the way you smiled at each other and realized he made the wrong move.

“How did you sleep?” You politely asked Finnick.

“Not great either so I got up early and went for a run around the garden.” Finnick told you.

“This place has a garden?”

“It does. Have you done any exploring of the facilities yet? I could give you a tour if you’d like. We can start in my room.” Finnick replied, making Peeta choke on the water he had sipped.

“She and I already looked around. We just didn’t find the garden.” Peeta cut in.

“Well the offer still stands. I could use the company.” Finnick said with a suave smile that made Peeta roll his eyes to the ceiling.

“I’ll think about it.” You answered to be polite. An awkward silence followed and you could sense that Peeta was upset. You picked a piece of bread from your plate and took a bite.

“What kind of bread is this? I’ve never seen this in 12.” You turned to ask Peeta. He stopped being grumpy and smiled at the question.

“It’s called challah. I’ve seen it in my recipe books but I never had the ingredients to make it.” He answered you.

“It’s good. It’s sweet.” You commented and took another bite.

“Here. Take mine.” Peeta said and put his bread on your plate. You smiled gratefully and moved the eggs from your plate onto his.

“I don’t like them anyway. And I know you do.” You explained.

“Thank you.” Peeta smiled at you.

“Gross.” Finnick snickered. “Get a room.”

“We will. But we need to eat first.” Peeta snapped, making you laugh in surprise.

“Good one.” You whispered to him. The rest of the meal went by without anymore comments from Finnick or Peeta.

Training began later that day. You and Peeta stayed close by each other and built up your weakest skills while keeping a close eye on the other tributes. Meanwhile, Finnick was having a gallant time showing off at the different training areas. He didn’t take anything to do with the games seriously anymore so he was just there to have fun. You and Peeta watched him hit targets with ease with his trident and bask in the applause. You then looked down at what you were doing, which was leaning how to paint your body to camouflage into the ground. Peeta was teaching you some simple painting techniques but you couldn’t help but get distracted by Finnick’s skills.

“Not for nothing, but should we consider being allies with Finnick?” You asked Peeta.

“I thought it was just gonna be me and you in there.” Peeta said without looking at you.

“Is that what you want?” You asked him.

“I want what you want.” He replied and looked into your eyes.

“I just wanted you. But if he asks us, it wouldn’t hurt to be his ally. He has been training for this his whole life. It would be better to have him on our side than hunting us.” You shrugged.

“That’s the thing. He doesn’t want me as an ally. He only wants you.” Peeta reminded you.

“Why just me? You’re stronger and can fight.”

“Because he’s in love with you.” Peeta said loud enough to draw the attention of several tributes, including Finnick. Peeta hung his head in disappointment as Finnick sauntered over to you.

“Uh oh. Talking about me, I hope.” Finnick said with a grin. “Come with me, Y/n. I want to show you how it tie a fisherman’s knot.”

“She already knows how to do that.” Peeta grumbled.

“Oh really? What about a sheep shank?” Finnick asked you.

“What’s that?” You asked.

“Follow me and I’ll show you.” Finnick offered and held out his hand. Peeta watched the way you took his hand to stand up and clenched his jaw. You started to follow Finnick until you heard a little groan from Peeta. You didn’t want to upset Peeta, but you did want to learn a new knot.

“Peeta should come too so that he can learn.” You stated.

“Peeta’s busy. Besides, I don’t think knots are really his thing. He’s more into arts and crafts, right Peeta?” Finnick asked and shot Peeta a wink. Peeta stayed silent as he glared at Finnick.

“I’ll be right back.” You told Peeta with an apologetic smile. Peeta tried to focus on his painting but could not stop looking up at you and Finnick. Finnick did the classic move of wrapping his arms around you to show you how to do something which made Peeta sick to his stomach.

“Wanna take me for a walk?” Finnick laughed as he wrapped a knot around his neck. You laughed as well and Peeta couldn’t take it anymore. That’s when he realized he didn’t have to take it. As far as everyone in the room was concerned, you and Peeta were supposedly in love. That meant he didn’t have to stand by and watch some guy flirt with his girl. Peeta marched up to you and spun you around by the waist before planting a kiss on your lips. You stumbled back in surprise before kissing him back. Finnick watched the kiss and chuckled softly, knowing exactly what Peeta was doing. You gave him a confused by pleased smile when he pulled away but he just kept his usual cheery smile on.

“Sorry. I just need to borrow my fiancé for a minute.” Peeta said to Finnick before pulling you aside.

“Go right ahead.” Finnick replied.

“What was that all about?” You whispered once you were out of earshot.

“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna check out the poisonous berry catalog in case you’re looking for me.” Peeta said innocently.

“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” You said and narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him. Peeta pecked your lips again before going over to the catalog. You touched your buzzing lips before going back to Finnick.

“Well somebody’s jealous.” Finnick chuckled.

“Leave him alone. You’re antagonizing him.” You scolded playfully.

“I know. And it’s very fun.” Finnick insisted.

“Well knock it off. He’s a good guy.”

“I know he is. But I’m bored of the other tributes and you guys are fresh meat. Let me play a little, okay?”

“All right. But I think he’s playing too now.” You warned.

And that’s exactly what Peeta was doing. Now that he remembered his advantage over Finnick, he used it anytime he could. He started kissing you when entering or leaving any room and making sure it was always in Finnicks line of sight. His hands were often on your hips or arm when standing near each other and he always had a grip on your leg when sitting. Finnick would always chuckle and look away, knowing it mattered a lot more to Peeta than it did to him. Peeta’s need for your attention also increased and you found that he was always right by your side or lingering just around the corner. You didn’t mind since you were anxious about the upcoming games and having him around always calmed you. But you couldn’t help but be bothered by the way he checked to see if Finnick was watching each time he kissed or touched you.

You were talking to Finnick in the hallway one day when you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders. You knew it was Peeta without looking because of the amused look on Finnicks face.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Peeta said and pecked your lips.

“Hello Peeta.” Finnick said curtly.

“Hello Finnick. Were you unable to find your wardrobe? I could loan you some shirts, if you’d like.” Peeta offered when he noticed that once again, Finnicks chest was bare. You clocked the sarcasm underneath Peeta’s kind tone and turned your head to laugh.

“That’s okay. I prefer it this way. It lets me move my arms more freely.” Finnick said and flexed his arms to prove his point. Peeta saw your eyes go wide and clenched his jaw.

“You must be really strong, Finnick.” You noted as your eyes stayed glued to his arms.

“I do a lot of heavy lifting back home. Go on, feel them.” Finnick said as he stared right into Peeta’s eyes.

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously and gripped Finnicks bicep like he asked. You didn’t want to deny the offer and seem rude, and you seriously wanted to feel his muscles, so Peeta was gonna have to take one for the team.

“Wow.” You gasped. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“I bet you haven’t.” Finnick grinned and shot a smug look at Peeta. Peeta could do nothing but watch with jealousy brewing in his eyes, and that was all Finnick needed.

“Well, I should get some rest. We have another big day tomorrow. But I’ll be looking forward to when my eyes can see yours again.” Finnick said and nudged your cheek. You smiled timidly while Peeta rolled his eyes up to the ceiling.

“See you around, Peet.” Finnicks chuckled and clapped Peeta on the back. Once you were alone, Peeta let out a sigh.

“Did you really have to touch his arm?” He whined.

“I guess not. But I wanted to. We are facing death right now and I’ll probably never get another chance to feel like a normal girl my age so I’m just trying to have some fun. You should try it sometime.” You said and came off just as annoyed as you felt. Peeta was surprised your tone and gulped.

“I can’t have fun when he’s lingering around you all the time like a hawk.” He mumbled.

“Who cares what he’s doing?” You groaned.

“I care.” Peeta snapped. You raised your eyebrows at him and he immediately felt bad.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.” Peeta apologized. “It’s just that guy. I can’t stand him. I thought he was trying to get into your head to psych you out before the games but he’s gotten into mine instead. He drives me crazy.”

“Oh, I get it. So that’s why you’ve been kissing me so much lately? You wanted to get back at Finnick?” You asked with a sad smile.

“I just wanted to remind him that you and I are a team. Not that he seems to care.” Peeta sighed.

“I care.” You said and put your hand on his shoulder. Peeta put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes apologetically.

“But I also don’t like you using me to get ahead in your little competition with Finnick. I’m not a trophy, you know. I’m a person.” You reminded him.

“You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry. I should’ve have rubbed our relationship in his face like that. Especially not without asking you first.”

“Thank you for apologizing. And it’s not that I didn’t like all the kissing. I just didn’t like that you were only doing it to bother Finnick.”

“I mean, that’s not the only reason I was kissing you. I happen to like kissing you. Annoying Finnick was just a pleasant side effect.” Peeta admitted as a blush covered his cheeks. You smiled at him admitting it and took a step closer to him.

“Well then it’s a good thing we’re on the same page, then.” You said as you toyed with the buttons on his shirt.

“We are?”

“We are. But no more fighting with Finnick. We really need him as an ally so you’ll have to learn to be civil.”

“If he can learn to keep his hands to himself then I can learn to be civil.” Peeta mumbled.

“Peeta.” You said warningly.

“Fine. Yes. You’re right. I can be civil.” Peeta said begrudgingly. You were pleased with his answer and kissed his cheek to thank him for listening. A rosy blush covered Peeta’s face and he smiled fondly at you.

“But I guess I can’t really blame him. Because I’ve had a hard time keeping my hands to myself around you too.” He said and took your chin between his fingers the way Finnick often did.

“That,” you smiled, “I’m okay with.”

Tag list

- [ ] @ilovetoomanymen @kittimbo @sipsthecoffee @ohmyhuenings

@ilykitwalker @mayemperess @scenesofobx

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @basicb1tchboy @planetevermore @bellasfavbisexual

[mariacallous]

Draw near, allies, for these are dark days for “kink-shaming”. At best, this is one of the whiniest, most pathetic and least helpful phrases to have entered the parlance of modern times – and at worst, it’s just another guy’s excuse for sexual abuse. It’s confusing. You try to be modern and post-conventional, and you end up enabling the most old-fashioned and conventional nastinesses of all.

Still, thank heavens for the parade of embattled famous men fighting kink-shaming’s corner. I have just one thing to say to all the lady authors, lady pop stars and lady actors out there. And that is: if you haven’t had an eye-wateringly expensive lawyer draft a statement about how consensual your sex with a tormented junior was, then are you really properly creative at all?

Fighting out of a Brooklyn detention centre, we have the rapper Sean “Diddy” Combs, who is on remand facing sex trafficking charges and about 120 lawsuits alleging drugging and sexual abuse, including of teenagers and minors. He denies the charges, some of which relate to his so-called freak-off parties. This week, Diddy’s lawyer’s take on the multiple federal charges was that the US government was trying “to police non-conforming sexual activity”. “The prosecution of Mr Combs is both sexist,” this lawyer hazarded, “and puritanical.” Righto.

Elsewhere, we have actor and oil scion Armie Hammer, #MeTooed back in the day over a number of sexual abuse and coercion allegations, plus a little light cannibalism talk – which he says was like being “left standing there naked in front of the world with all of your proclivities or kinks being judged by the world”. Despite police reports, no charges were brought, and Armie now observes of his downfall that “people were my bags of dope with skin on it”. Ah, ye olde sex addict, hoovering up his chosen substance – women – that just happens to have “skin on it”.

Meanwhile, Channel 4 is currently showing a documentary on the rock star Marilyn Manson, who has successfully ridden out years of grim abuse allegations, including by his much younger former partner, Evan Rachel Wood. The documentary contains some previously unaired interview footage, in which Manson declares: “I’m not into rape whatsoever … I prefer to break a woman down to the point where they have no choice but to submit to me. Rape is for cowards, for lazy people.” Certainly for other people.

But arguably the newsiest one this week concerns the author Neil Gaiman, subject of what might have been last summer’s dam-breaking Tortoise podcast, Master. Except, there are some dams that people – and fandoms – are hugely invested in keeping intact. It has taken till now for the follow-up, courtesy of New York Magazine, in the form of an investigation entitled There Is No Safe Word, which features eight young women alleging sexual assault, coercion and misconduct by Gaiman, six of them on the record.

Gaiman denies anything was non-consensual, and says that the claims contain “descriptions of things that happened sitting beside things that emphatically did not happen”. He has remained largely hidden behind lawyers since the allegations surfaced last year, with one of these legal eagles telling Tortoise that “sexual degradation, bondage, domination, sadism, and masochism may not be to everyone’s taste, but between consenting adults, BDSM is lawful”. Was boundaried BDSM what was going on? The alleged victims say no, and they say it at complex length in the New York investigation.

Take the story told by Scarlett Pavlovich. Even unconventional people end up needing conventional things such as childcare, which Gaiman and his ex-wife Amanda Palmer seem to have decided was best obtained by asking women who were also fans. Aged 24, Pavlovich has arrived for her first day of work at Gaiman’s – he is 61 – to discover the child is in fact on a playdate. She has only known the author for a couple of hours when he suggests she takes a bath in his outdoor tub while he’s on a work call. Minutes after, he appears naked, and joins her, swiftly beginning to stroke her feet. According to the New York Magazine report, she tells him “she was gay, she’d never had sex, she had been sexually abused by a 45-year-old man when she was 15. Gaiman continued to press.” Indeed, he does so to the point of anal penetration. “Then he asked if he could come on my face, and I said ‘no’ but he did anyway. He said, ‘Call me “master”, and I’ll come.’ He said, ‘Be a good girl. You’re a good little girl.’” She goes home to Google #MeToo and Neil Gaiman. Yet in time, she also goes back to Gaiman and Palmer’s houses. And months later, a vulnerable young adult without a home and estranged from her own family, she is still stuck in this toxic cycle. And has still never been paid for all thechildcare.

In our era, people have righteously debunked the myth of the perfect victim – but less so the myth of the perfect perpetrator. The perfect perpetrator is an evil stranger – yet sexual abuse is overwhelmingly likely to be carried out by someone you know, who you may be related to or in a relationship with, and who is pretty nice to you some of the time. These are complex and inconvenient truths, but they are truths.

Furthermore, there are perfect perpetrators in the public imagination. Harvey Weinstein, once he was exposed, was the perfect perpetrator. Physically repulsive – hey, it is what it is – and not actually famous in the world outside his professional community, he was the kind of 2D scumbag no civilian could possibly be invested in. People in the normal world will always be incalculably more relaxed about the exposure of a movie producer, a job they instinctively regard as commoditised, than they will be about losing any kind of artist, a job whose works have affected them over the course of many years. Perhaps this is why many fans of the master storyteller Neil Gaiman are refusing to listen to the less appealing, less magical accounts of those women who allege he took advantage of them.

As for Neil himself, I see Gaiman still can’t let go of the allyship argot, which frequently feels performative and knackered, but in the circumstances of this case comes off as actively ludicrous. Finally breaking the silence on Thursday, Gaiman said that he hadn’t commented thus far on the multiple, months-long stream of allegations, some of which he had allegedly sought to silence via NDAs, “out of respect for the people that were sharing their stories”.

Sharing their stories, if you please! Neil: some of them have “shared their stories” with Auckland and Devon and Cornwall police. Are you attempting to be an “ally” to your own alleged victims? Either way, great to find you holding space/checking your privilege for them. You’ll note that people like Neil even react to sexual abuse allegations in a superior way. Honestly, I’m feeling somewhat lesser, here. I’ve literally never given $60,000 or $275,000 to people I haven’t sexually assaulted so that I can – hang on, let me get my reading glasses on – help them get therapy/“make up some of the damage”. Having said that, I have always paid my nanny via PAYE, and have never attempted to have sex with her. I recommend it.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 11 - Hot Toddy

@wolfstarmicrofic December 11, word count 478

Since they’d left Hogwarts and didn’t have access to the Hospital wing and the skills of Madam Pomfrey, Remus had to make do the best he could after his transformation each month. 

This time, he’d caught a nasty cold, and no matter what potions Sirius brewed for him, it just wouldn’t shift. Sirius had been amazing and had even gone to Hogwarts to beg Madam Pomfrey to come help. It hadn’t taken much. As soon as he said it was for Remus. She’d packed up a medical bag and come back with Sirius. But even she couldn’t figure out how to help him. 

It had been over a week, and Sirius had turned to muggle medicine. Remus could hear a lot of swearing and clattering in the kitchen. Remus hauled himself out of bed and wandered towards the herd of elephants parading in the flat. 

His limbs felt heavy, and his joints ached, but he knew it was good for him to get out of bed, even if it was to deal with whatever catastrophe was going on. 

Sirius stood facing away from him with an array of ingredients lined up on the counter and two mugs. Remus watched as Sirius mixed honey and firewhisky together, then added half a cinnamon stick and poured boiling water from the kettle into each mug. 

The sweet, fiery smell hit Remus, and he groaned. It was the first thing he’d been able to smell since he had got his cold. Sirius nearly dropped the kettle. He spun around, grasping his chest as he chastised Remus for being out of bed. 

“Get back to bed; I’ll be in in a minute.” He said, putting the kettle back on its base. Popped a slice of lemon studded with a clove into the steaming mugs. Remus had no idea what the drink was, but he couldn’t wait to try it. 

He let Sirius usher him back to bed. He flopped back onto the mattress and tucked himself back under the covers. Sirius joined him and passed him one of the mugs. 

Remus inhaled the fragrant steam.

“What is it?” He asked as he blew on the top of it, hoping it would cool down quicker. 

“It’s called a hot toddy. A sweet Scottish granny told me how to make them when I was looking at the cold medicine in the pharmacy. She was quite insistent that it was the only thing that would help,” Remus nodded along and took a sip. It was delicious. Sweet and spicy and warmed him to his toes. He downed it quickly and snuggled into the bed, his eyes growing droopy as he drifted off to sleep. 

When he woke up, Sirius was gone, and he felt better than he had in days. Now, he wasn’t saying that Sirius’s concoction had worked, but it certainly hadn’t done any harm.  

[bellythems]

You take us out on a nice tropical beach vacation. It’s out of the country, so we need to have our proper check up and vaccinations. I have no idea you paid the doctor off to add something special for me.

I feel nauseous the first day or so of our trip, but it quickly passes and I chalk it up to jet lag. My clothes are feeling a little snug, but you excuse it as all of the big meals I’ve been eating. I do admit I’ve been eating a lot and let it go.

My belly keeps pushing up against my swim trunks and out against my modest swim shirt until it starts peeking through. You get so good at distracting me by rubbing it and kissing my neck, melting me before I can properly react to how big I’m getting for reasons I don’t understand. I’ve been so horny lately, I’m so easy to distract. I never have the time nor the focus to get upset with you for doing this to me. It just feels too good when you touch me to be upset.

Every day you parade me and my body up and down the beach to show me off, and every day I’m a little bigger, waddling a little wider and slower. My belly is fully sticking out under my swim clothes, belly button popped and prominent. Even I’ve started rubbing my belly now, I just can’t help it. I’m growing so fast it makes me dizzy and delirious, and when you tell me how gorgeous and hot I look filled with your children all I can do is melt in your arms and agree.

It’s all only over the course of two weeks and I get massive, waddling with my back arched far and leaning on you for support. I can hardly walk, certainly not at all on my own, but you’re helping me walk through contractions as I get ready to give birth to the heavy triplets you put inside me.

[bonezone44]

hello, my dearest Rad 💛

with this ask I challenge you to write a ficlet (or anything bigger if you want) inspired by this screenshot:

may the writing muses be with you,

kissing you on your forehead (if you allow it not then just waving you from the distance!)

a/n: please forgive me, lol! Idk why I wrote Reader like this. thank you for this prompt @iamasaddie from like... last month, lol!

tags: brat tamer!Jack, step-dad!Jack, unprotected p-in-v, spanking, overuse of the word "whore"

!!This story is for ages 21+!!

-----One look from your Uncle Jack could send anyone to their knees. The man had an effortless smolder that weakened even the strongest of bulls.

But you weren't as easily influenced by his wily expressions. Not to say that you weren't weak for the man--you certainly were. But it took more than a stern eye to make you surrender to his whims.

It was spring time and your mother was hosting a garden party. It was any excuse to round up your mother's colleagues and show off her skills (paying people with real skills to do all the work). And while she was parading around the manicured lawn in a tailored linen dress that accentuated her petite hourglass figure, you wandered out the back door half-asleep in cut-off jeans and flip flops, aching for a cold can of brewski.

"Oh my heavens!" Your mother exclaimed with a weary breath, her hand pressed delicately to her chest. She hurried gracefully to her new beau, the man you called Uncle Jack "Jackie!" She cried out in a hushed whisper, tugging him away from his socializing.

Jack did his best not to wince at the sound of your mother's affectionate nickname for him, and just follow along. He learned it was best to do whatever the woman said. "Whats wrong, darlin?"

"Why is she doing this to me?" Your mother cried.

"Who?"

"My daughter!" She pointed one long dainty finger in your direction.

You scratched your belly beneath the crop top loosely covering your chest. You nudged a few party-goers out of the way so you could dig through the cooler that was reserved for the more masculine revelers. You pulled out a silver can, popped it open, and started chugging.

Jack took one look at ya and sighed. 'There ain't no rest for the wicked, is there?'

"Alleged daughter, anyway," your mother huffed and shook the hair from her face. "That child must have been switched at the hospital," she murmured. "No daughter of mine would ever disgrace her mother like that. No, sir!"

Jack rested his hand on your mother's trembling shoulders. "Want me to go talk to her for ya, darlin'?"

"Of course I want you to go talk to her, you imbecile!" your mother strained to keep her voice low. "Take her upstairs and put some decent clothes on her!" She paused, rolled her shoulders back, and plastered a poised smile on her face. She turned about-face and rejoined the party.

Jack sighed again, jaw twisting. With a flurry of conflicting thoughts racing through his mind, he stomped resolutely in your direction.

---

You didn't know what the hell was going on. You had been out all night with your friends and suddenly you wake up and there's a bunch of people at your house. Once you made it downstairs, you figured your mom was having one of those little shindigs she likes to have sometimes and you figured you'd stay out of the way like you usually do.

But hey, if they were all gonna day-drink, you might as well join 'em. So you went and grabbed a Coors from the cooler next to the barbecue and suddenly Jack's got his big hand wrapped around your arm and he's tugging you back inside.

"Ow! What the hell, man?"

"What the hell is right," he growls in your ear, but nods quite politely to the people he passes by in the kitchen with you in tow. He yanks you all the way up the stairs while you desperately try to keep the beer in your hand from spilling on the carpet. He shoves you into your bedroom and slams the door behind you. "What is goin' on in that silly li'l head o' yours, sweetheart?" He points toward your window. "Your mother is entertaining guests and you show up lookin' like you just got ran through by some good for nothin' in the back of his pick-up truck."

You smirk. "Well, I see where your head is at, Uncle Jack." You giggle. "Picturin' me gettin' ran through." you flick your hips back and forth.

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, li'l missy, but you better hurry up and get changed before comin' back down to this party." He stands there, between your bed and the door, with his hands on his hips. He doesn't move. He doesn't turn around. He's not leaving the room to let you change your clothes. He plans on watching you do it.

And you decide to let him. You've been teasing him for long enough. The poor man deserves it after all he's been through (putting up with your momma for the past 2 years).

You release an exaggerated sigh. "If it'll make you happy, Uncle Jack--"

"Oh it will," he spits. his nostrils flaring.

You shrug. "Then okay." You lock eyes with him and grab the hem of your crop top. He still doesn't move. You slowly bring the shirt over your head and toss it to the floor.

His chest puffs up. "You were down there around all those people in half a t-shirt and you weren't even wearing a bra?" He snarls.

You cup each breast and pinch at your nipples. "What? A grown man like you has never seen titties before?"

He stomps closer to you. His breaths start heaving. You think he might strangle you with how wild his eyes get. It's kinda cute when he gets all mad at you. "Get. Dressed."

"Well, I'm guessin' Momma doesn't like my shorts, so I gotta take these off, too." Your eyes never leave Jack's. Your gaze is tethered to one another. It keeps you both from looking elsewhere. You know he's hard. You can see it out the corner of your vision. You wonder how far you can push him before he does something about it. You undo your shorts and shimmy them down below your hips--enough that they fall to your feet and allow you to step out of them.

Jack's eyes finally shift down. He turns livid. "And what the hell is this?" He grabs the red strap of your underwear and snaps his against your skin. "What is wrong with you walkin' around like some two-cent whore?"

"Uncle Jack!" you roll your eyes and laugh. "I only wear 'em 'cause of how good they make my ass look." You turn around and bend over onto the bed, sticking your rear in the air. You look at him over your shoulder. "See?"

Next thing you know, your yelping and falling forward from the powerful smacks of Jack's hand against your ass--slapping you again and again. "WHAT. IS. WRONG. WITH. YOU." His fingers grapple your g-string and he rips it off your body. "After all your momma's done for you?" He growls in your ear, his warm body heavy on top of you. You feel his hard cock pressed against your leg. "This is how you treat her?"

You try to shove him off, but he's too heavy. Your ass stings and all you can do is turn your head to the side and growl at him back. "You have NO IDEA what my momma's done to me!" You cry, tears prickling out.

He yanks you by the hair so he can look you in the eyes again. "I know there ain't no mother on God's green earth that deserves an ungrateful whore of a daughter like you."

Your tears turn into outright sobbing.

He shoves your face into the mattress and gets off of you. "Cryin' don't work on me, little girl. Not no more." You hear his belt buckle jingle and turn over on your back. Your soft sheets feel rough on your sore bottom. "You need some goddamn discipline fucked into you." His zipper is loud as he undoes his pants and pulls out his raging cock. He strokes it above you and your pussy drools. You go to touch yourself and he slaps your hand away. "Goddamnit!" he spits. "Turn over! I can't even stand to fuckin' look at ya right now." You do as your told and he wastes no time spearing himself into you. "Jesus fuckin' Christ," he curses and sets a relentless pace. "Your cunt's wetter than a goddamn slice of tres leches. All that spankin' just turned you on? Huh?" You moan and whimper into the thick of the bed beneath you. He stops thrusting and pulls you up again by the hair. "Hey! I'm talkin to you, girl! You better answer if you know what's good for ya!" You nod fervently, scared by the crazed look in his eyes. "No, no. I need to hear it, li'l missy!"

"Yes, Uncle Jack," you blubber through your tears.

"Yes, what?" he grits his teeth. his cock pulses as it sits inside of you. your insides burning deliciously as they accomodate his girth.

"Yes, I--" you swallow your spit. "Yes, a-all that spankin turned me on."

He shakes his head and huffs. "Nothin' but a two-cent whore," he mutters and goes back to fucking you. "Fuckin filthy," he says as one of his hands wraps around your chest, groping and pinching your breasts with imprecision. "Let Uncle Jack's big cock get you right, darlin'." He grunts, his cock stroking your walls and waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "I'll give this tight little cunt what it needs." He groans and leans back. His hands grip your hips and you can feel his balls slapping against you. You wanna reach back and hold them in your hands, lick up the seam of skin in the middle and glide your tongue along his dick. "Goddamn. That cunt's got me lassoed up real tight." His fingers dig deep into your flesh as he hammers into you. "'M 'bout to shoot. Nnnggh--"

"Yeah?" you whimper, excitedly.

Jack's quick to react. His body falls on top of you, wrapping a hand around your mouth, the other around your waist. His thrusts grow deep and erratic. "You shut your goddamn mouth, little whore. This ain't about makin' you feel good. This is about makin' you shut up and do as your fuckin' told, alright?" He doesn't wait for your answer. He's got you wrapped up so tight you can't even move if you wanted to. He stops speaking and all you can hear is him hissing and his teeth clacking together every so often. Then with a loud, deep groan, his hot spend begins pumping inside of you and coating your walls. His grip on you loosens and before you know it, he's gone. Your body is cold. All the goodness you had been feeling has disappeared.

You turn over and see Jack tucking himself back inside his jeans. You both watch as his sticky white cum leaks out of your hole and soaks into the bed sheets. He buckles his belt and asks, "Now what do you say, huh? For makin' Uncle Jack put you right?"

He won't look you in the eyes, still staring between your legs. So you reach down with two fingers and scoop his cum back inside of you. "Thank you, Uncle Jack."

He clears his throat. "That's right." He turns around and before leaving your room he says, "Next time you need to get put right you come find me." He looks over his shoulder. "You don't wanna find out what's gonna happen if I gotta find you first, li'l missy. Now, get dressed." He adjusts his t-shirt in your doorway and the next thing you hear are his bootsteps echoing through the hall and down the stairs.

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

additional tags: @xdaddysprincessxx

[bexalert]

Jjk characters reactions to you coming out

it’s pride month, this came to mind. Here you go friends. (Itadori, Fushiguro, Kugisaki, Inumaki)

Itadori Yuji:

“Huh?”

He will need some elaborating

He just doesn’t know what it means 😭

Pan? Trans? Bi? He has no clue what these words mean

Bear with him cuz you’ll have to explain

But once he’s got it, it’s all aces

“Oh, cool!”

He’ll definitely start buying rainbow stuff for you

“I got you these cuz I know you’re gay 😚”

It’s the thought that counts

If you change your pronouns, he might struggle a bit, but he’s certainly got the spirit!

“HER PRONOUNS ARE THEY/THEM”

The biggest ally

If anyone acts homophobic or transphobic towards you, he’s on a rampage

He’ll wear a pin of your pride flag

Fushiguro Megumi:

“Ok”

He doesn’t care

If you want him to make it a bigger deal he will, but he doesn’t think it matters much

If anyone is mean to you about it, though, he will defend you

“What did you just say?”

Death stare

He gets so irked when people are homophobic/transphobic

Cuz in his mind it literally doesn’t matter?

Like why is it any of his business who anyone likes

Besides, the closet is made of glass for this man 🥱

If you’re insecure about it, he’ll definitely try his best to support you

He bought you the target pride merch…

HE’S TRYING

He’d definitely help you do research if you were looking for a binder or tape or anything of the sort.

“Don’t buy that brand, they’re not durable.”

He’s very helpful

Kugisaki Nobara:

“Thanks for telling me!”

Shes very kind

She understands that this can be a touchy subject, so she lets you know that she supports you.

If you’re transfem, she’d help you with clothing brands, makeup, all that stuff.

“That is not your shade. Here, try this one.”

She’d love to help you with makeup, or buy clothes with you.

If people call you any slurs or names, you best believe Nobara is handling it 😭

“You scumbag!”

Like it doesn’t even matter if they apologized, she don’t care 😭

She’d definitely slap Itadori around if he accidentally said anything rude

She’d go to all the pride events with you if you wanted her to

You’re holding all her bags though

Inumaki Toge:

“Salmon”

Yea he clocked you

He is NOT surprised

He nods and gives you a thumbs up

He’ll give you some goofy pop up card that shoots out glitter and says something like ‘be who you are’ or ‘love is love’

He won’t react to any mean people.

He’ll just glare, and pull you along

He doesn’t think it’s worth wasting time on someone like that

“Mustard Leaf.”

He’ll be especially frustrated with his limited speech in a situation where you need reassurance

He’ll go overboard and buy you all the rainbow things

Like he just comes over one day, arms full of bags, and it’s all pride merch

They won’t even be your flag, he just thought they looked nice 😭

If you want him to go to any pride parades, he’ll definitely go with you.

“Tuna tuna”

[slaymitchabernathy]

Rain & Parades

The patter of little feet running down the hall is what alerts Coriolanus that he’s about to have a little visitor.

He glances towards the door of his study and waits for whatever child of his has come to visit him to pop their little head in. The children have never been too fond of knocking.

He’s proven to be correct when Ceraphina, his oldest, pushes the heavy wooden door open and greets him with a bright smile. “Daddy!”

He grins and beckons her over, putting all his work aside. It’s the weekend so he doesn’t really need to be working. At least that’s what he tells himself when it comes to his children.

Ceraphina bounds over to him and squeals when he effortlessly scoops her into his lap and tickles her, letting Coriolanus bask in the sweet sound of his daughter’s laughter.

There was a time when he thought he could only love one woman. Soarynn Nightingale.

He had been completely and utterly in love with her since the day he met her and once they were married and she became Soarynn Snow, there was no competition in his mind.

Then Ceraphina came along.

Sporting the same eye color as her mother and the same laugh. And just when he thought it couldn’t get better, they had Celeste who reminded him of Soarynn every single day with her mannerisms.

Lastly came Caspian, and although he’s a boy, he still resembles Soarynn in his gentleness.

“What have you been up to my darling?” He asks her, ceasing his tickles for the time being. Ceraphina beams up at him while kicking her legs back and forth, “Mommy helped me get all dressed up for the parade! We’re still going right?”

Coriolanus glances out the window of his study and notices the dreary weather that’s formed over the last hour. It looks like it might rain and that will certainly foil their plans of attending the Capitol’s annual parade. It’s a celebration of their victory over the rebels from the Districts and the children love attending.

He gives her a squeeze and a patient smile, “We’ll have to see how the weather turns out darling. If it rains then they’ll cancel the parade.”

Ceraphina frowns and crosses her arms, pouting the same way Soarynn does, “Well I just got all ready,” she huffs. Coriolanus holds in his chuckle at her small attitude. Soarynn can deny it all she wants but Ceraphina is as sharp as she is.

“Well why don’t we go check the television to see if there’s been any updates,” he suggests, knowing that the chances of the parade being canceled are highly likely. Still, he’s learned that having children means humoring them for the sake of protecting them.

Ceraphina nods and jumps off of his lap, running out of the study before he can even stand up. Coriolanus lets out a groan when he finally stands up after so long, stretching out his limbs before he slowly makes his way out into the hall. Ceraphina is still waiting for him, bouncing on her toes but this time, she has a friend.

Or a prisoner from the looks of it since Petunia does not look particularly happy to be held by the child.

Coriolanus chuckles and bends down to give Petunia a rub on her head, “I see you found our beloved Petunia.” The feline glowers up at him but he knows she won’t make any fatal attempts as long as the children are around.

She’ll wait till he’s alone to get her revenge.

Ceraphina proudly nods, “Mhm. Mommy tied a new ribbon around her neck this morning.” The new ribbon is a baby blue shade and it compliments the cat’s eyes perfectly. Which means that it also compliments Ceraphina’s eyes as well.

“How fancy,” he says, standing back up to his full height. Ceraphina follows him to the living room where he’s more than happy to find his other daughter, Celeste sitting in his armchair. It’s not necessarily his armchair, but no one in the family sits in it but him. And sometimes Petunia.

She’s kicking her feet back and forth while she plays with two of her dolls, clearly in her own little world but Coriolanus can see that she’s also properly dressed for the parade. Both girls are wearing black dresses with shiny black boots, clearly matching with one another.

She gasps when she notices more family members in the room with her, namely Petunia who is carried over to her by her big sister. “Petunia!”

Coriolanus smiles at the sight of his two darling daughters fussing over Petunia who’s managed to get onto the armchair and tuck all her limbs under her small body as a means to protect herself from the small children.

“Daddy! We’re going to the parade today!” Celeste tells him, holding up her dolls. Coriolanus nods and rounds the coffee table, searching for the television remote. “Hopefully it hasn’t been canceled due to the rain,” he says.

He finally finds the remote and turns on the television to their favorite weatherman’s channel. Both girls gasp at the sight of their favorite television personality, Lucky Flickerman who’s currently giving them a weather report for the day.

“Looks like our parade has officially been rained on folks! Time to fold up the tents and head on home because this rain isn’t letting up anything soon!”

Coriolanus feels his heart break a little when he sees the disappointment in his girl's faces as they both gaze up at him with those blue eyes. “Daddy, why can’t you tell them to put on the parade?” Celeste asks, carefully slipping out of the armchair and coming over to grab onto his leg.

Coriolanus sighs and places his hand on the top of her blonde head of curls, “I can’t control the weather darling. They’ll just have to reschedule the parade.” Celeste pouts but he’s truly out of options and has nothing left to do now. Ceraphina however doesn’t seem to take no for an answer and she runs off to find the one other person who she believes can fix all of her problems.

Soarynn.

“Let’s go check on your sister,” Coriolanus suggests as he scoops up Celeste. She instantly rests her head on his shoulder and he can smell the scent of vanilla lingering on her clothes.

His bedroom doors are wide open so he figured that’s where Ceraphina must have run off to. He’s proven correct when he finds Soarynn sitting on the edge of their bed, comforting a tearful Ceraphina who’s clinging to her mother.

“I take it you heard about the parade,” Coriolanus concludes and Soarynn nods, “Yes, the weather always seems to ruin things.”

Coriolanus spots Caspian sitting in his crib, carefully watching the rest of his family interact. He’s gotten so big and he has his own ‘big boy bed’ but Soarynn kept around the large crib for the convenience of things. “Parade,” Caspian says, holding onto the crib's railing. Soarynn sighs and continues smoothing down Ceraphina’s hair while she cries, “Yes darling, the parade was supposed to be today.”

“Well, why can’t we tell them to put it back on?” Ceraphina asks with the stomp of her little foot which earns her a sharp look from Coriolanus, “Manners Ceraphina,” he reminds her while setting Celeste down on the floor, “and they’ll just have to reschedule it. We’ll go to the parade another time.”

His words seem to do little to comfort all three children who’ve been talking nonstop about the parade for weeks now and he gives Soarynn a desperate look. ‘Help me out of this’ his eyes beg.

Soarynn shoots him a more amused look and nods, “Well since we’re all dressed up we might as well go do something,” she suggests which earns her an excited gasp from Celeste who runs over to the bed and attempts to climb it. But she’s still so little and Soarynn chuckles, lifting her up to sit next to her, “Really Mommy? We can still go somewhere today with Daddy?” Celeste asks hopefully, looking over at Coriolanus who normally is at work today.

Coriolanus has always prided himself on being a hardworking man. For many years he simply provided for himself and Soarynn but with three little ones now in their lives, things have gotten more complicated. More expensive is the correct way to put it.

All three of their children are dressed in the finest clothes, and fed the finest foods, and when they’re old enough, they’ll receive the best education.

Living a life of luxury means sacrifices, in his case, not seeing his family as much as he’d like. After getting promoted five months ago, Coriolanus has truly been on top of the world at work but it’s meant being busier as well. Soarynn stays home with the children, raising them in his absence while he brings home the bacon so to speak.

But today everyone at the office was given the day off at work and the children had been thrilled at the prospect of an extra day with their father.

Soarynn ruffles Celeste’s curls and smiles, “Sure we can. Why don’t we all go down to the bakery? We can get some hot chocolate and some pastries for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

That seems to be the best idea the girls have ever heard because tears are quickly dried and they’re both running off to find a stuffed animal to bring with them. Coriolanus lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head, “I was sure we’d have several tantrums on our hands, and all because of the rain.”

Soarynn rolls her eyes and stands up from their bed, making her way over to the crib where Caspian is watching her, “You know our girls are perfectly well behaved. And you can’t blame them for being disappointed, I myself am quite disappointed.”

Caspian lets out a squeal when Soarynn picks him up, absolutely infatuated with Soarynn, the same way Coriolanus is. Caspian is a momma's boy through and through, always basking in his mother's presence. Not that Coriolanus can blame him, Soarynn is the perfect mother in his eyes and he's glad that the children can see that as well.

"Would you like that Cas? A trip to the bakery sounds like the perfect rainy day activity," she says to their son who nods, only understanding certain words but grasping just enough to understand what she's saying to him. "Yes," he tells her which earns a smile from Soarynn who presses a soft kiss to his blonde head of hair.

Coriolanus watches the sweet sight with a smile on his face. He always knew that he'd end up marrying a girl and starting a family with her, but he never imagined he'd actually be happy. He would meet some upper-class girl and take her on mandatory dates, doing everything by the books. Then after an appropriate amount of time, he would propose and it would all work out in the end.

But then Soarynn came along and swept him off of his feet.

He was irrevocably in love with this girl and she had gone above and beyond to make him happy. She made him a father.

"Would you help him with his shoes?" She asks him, bouncing Caspian on her hip, "He's quite insistent on putting them on himself now that he's a big boy." Caspian gives her a determined nod, "Big," he agrees. Coriolanus chuckles and walks over to his wife and son, placing his large hand on top of Caspian's head, "You are indeed growing like a strong boy, you'll be as tall as me before we know it."

The thought of Caspian all grown up is an exciting thought to Coriolanus who can hardly imagine his children growing past the age of ten. He knows Soarynn longs for more days with them at this sweet age but the years are short and the days are long. They'll just have to cherish every moment they can while they have it.

꧁ ꧂

"Daddy, can I jump in that puddle?"

Coriolanus pulls a twisted face at the idea of willingly jumping into a wet, nasty puddle but children are curious by nature and don't seem to care about cleanliness the way he does. He shakes his head, "I don't think so darling."

He adjusts his grip on the stroller whilst holding up the black umbrella with his other hand. Caspian stares up at him from his comfortable seat with wide blue eyes. Even though he's nearly three, days like this call for a stroller where he can rest should he get tired.

Ceraphina nods and continues skipping next to him, making sure her hat doesn't fall onto the ground. Many things can be said about Soarynn Snow. She's kind, gorgeous, considerate, and she is very fashionable.

Which means her children are fashionable too.

She dressed the girls in black coats and hats to match her own black outfit for the day, and Caspian looked very sharp in his black vest. It had been a bit of a struggle for Coriolanus to get Caspian's tiny boots on his feet, especially with Caspian kicking them off every two seconds while fussing at him. But he managed to get them on eventually.

Coriolanus glances over his shoulder at Soarynn who's holding Celeste's hand, guiding them along the wet pavement. Celeste has a habit of looking into every shop window and eyeing the clothes on the mannequins. Her wild imagintation leads her to come up with stories for all the mannequins which can lead to a simple walk down the street taking much longer than it really should.

But Soarynn is so patient with her, stopping at every window to listen to Celeste and her stories. Coriolanus truly doesn't know how she manages it, manages to be so endlessly patient all the time. He, of course, loves his children and does his best to be a caring yet stern father figure. But Soarynn is just so selflessly devoted to their children and their happiness.

When they finally reach the glass doors of the bakery, Coriolanus waits for Soarynn and Celeste to catch up to them and he hears a glimpse of Celeste's wild imagination. "...and then they rode a dragon to the tea party Mommy!" Soarynn raises her eyebrows and hums, "That sounds so fantastic darling." Celeste beams up at her and nods, "It is. Can I get a muffin?"

Coriolanus gives her a knowing look and Celeste has the decency to look somewhat guilty, "May I please have a muffin Mommy?" Coriolanus grunts and opens up the bakery doors pleased that Celeste corrected herself. They can't have their children running around the Capitol without using proper manners and etiquette.

Everyone files into the bakery and they're greeted by smiling staff members ready to tend to their every need. "Why don't we sit over there by the window?" Soarynn suggests to him and Coriolanus looks over at the large-looking booth tucked away in the corner. "Good idea," he agrees, knowing it's best to keep the children contained when at all possible.

He wheels the stroller over to their table and carefully lifts Caspian out, enjoying the way that his son immediately clings to him, "Let's go pick out something to eat," he says, adjusting his grip on Caspian who seems quite determined to reach out for Soarynn now that he has her in his sights. The girls are already pouring over all the fancy desserts and pastries that the bakery has to offer them, pointing at the prettiest cakes.

Soarynn stands behind them, a content smile on her face while watching the children. "Momma," Caspian says, grabbing her hair the moment she's in reach. Soarynn smiles down at him and takes his small hand in hers, "Hello my sweet boy."

Soarynn looks absolutely radiant today, it truly is a shame that the parade was canceled only because not as many people will be able to openly admire her. Her own black dress is fitted at the waist and stops just above her knee and she's paired it with shiny black boots that stop just below the knee. Her black coat wraps around her waist with a buckled strap and her handbag for today is a gorgeous black leather handbag with gold hardware.

She's the picture of sophistication.

"Daddy! Daddy, they have cupcakes! May we please get a cupcake?" Ceraphina asks, bouncing on her toes while pointing at the glass display case. Coriolanus hands Caspian off to Soarynn who gladly takes him into her hold so that he can go see this cupcake. He sees why the girls are so taken with this dessert, it has pink frosting and rainbow sprinkles with a cherry on top.

He pretends to think about it for a moment which only makes the girls pout even more, giving him their best puppy-dog eyes. Coriolanus expected many things going into fatherhood but what he hadn't expected was to be wrapped around his daughter's fingers. He was already wrapped around Soarynn's but now he had two miniature versions of her.

Double trouble if he's ever seen it.

"I suppose you two could get this cupcake if you promise to eat all your dinner," he tells them and the girls immediately nod and offer promises to eat every last bite of dinner tonight. Coriolanus grins and nods at the worker standing on the other side of the counter, "Two of your pink frosted cupcakes please."

The girls are ecstatic about their wishes coming true which of course means running over to share their victory with Soarynn who's crouched down to help Caspian select his own treat. It's futile since they both know he'll choose the same thing every time, a slice of lemon bread.

"We'll also take a box of your breakfast pastries, one coffee, one tea, and three hot chocolates," he adds, glancing over the display case. Coriolanus himself isn't much of a sweets man but he can always steal a piece of Soarynn's dessert. She always gets the carrot cake.

"Right away sir."

"Why don't you girls go sit down," he suggests while pointing at their table. Both girls nod and run over to the table, hoisting themselves onto the booth. "What're you getting darling?" Soarynn stands up with a sigh, and brushes some of Caspian's hair from his face, "The same thing we always get. Cas and I are terribly predictable." Coriolanus rests his hand on her lower back and smiles, "Yes you are. One might even go as far as to say that the two of you are related."

Soarynn shoots him a teasing look as they both make their way over to the cashier where Coriolanus pulls out his wallet to pay. "I already ordered the drinks," he says to Soarynn while handing over his card. Soarynn smiles up at him and gives his arm a squeeze, "Aren't you such a thoughtful husband?" Coriolanus enjoys the banter between them, especially when it comes to their parenting methods and he plays into it fully, "Someone has to be the doting spouse."

Both of them are doting in their own ways. Soarynn's ways of showing love and appreciation are more sentimental like little notes and words of praise. She always knows how to make him feel better after a long day by running her fingers through his hair and singing softly.

Coriolanus is more physical in his affection, showering Soarynn with kisses and gentle touches every chance he gets. He loves having his hands on her, giving her massages, braiding her hair, and helping her rinse off in the shower. And he of course loves to give her gifts. Handbags, designer shoes, new jewelry. Only the best for his darling girl.

All in all, they make a good pair.

Soarynn gives him a gentle shove before making her way over to their table, knowing that the girls always require at least a little bit of supervision. Once promises that their food will be brought to their table shortly, Coriolanus joins his family and is pleased to find that all three of his children are perfectly behaved.

He sits down next to Soarynn and his hand immediately finds her thigh under the table. He'd be damned if he let having children keep him from having his wife and their intimate moments. So, he does his best to keep the flame alive, always giving her small touches of affection whenever and wherever he can.

"Looks like the rain is finally letting up," Soarynn says, nodding towards the large bakery window. Coriolanus finds that she's correct as they watch people begin to close their umbrellas while making their way down the Capitol street.

"I still wish we could've seen the parade floats," Ceraphina says with a sigh, causing her sister to also sigh, "And the horses," Celeste adds. The parade consists of many sights, including horses, floats, performers, and of course, the Capitol military. The girls love the horses and floats the most though.

"Yes, but then we wouldn't be able to enjoy this lovely afternoon now would we?" Soarynn asks, quickly shutting down any unnecessary pouting from the children. Coriolanus gives her thigh an appreciative squeeze for shutting down such behavior and it's at that very moment that the food arrives. Suddenly the parade is forgotten when the girls set their sights on the cupcakes they ordered.

"Let me help you cut it," Soarynn interjects before they can get their hands and clothes stained with pink frosting. The girls patiently wait on the edge of their seats while Soarynn skillfully cuts the desserts into smaller bites, both of their eyes wide as saucers. Caspian who's been seated in a booster seat spots his slice of lemon bread and makes grabbing motions at it, "Lemon," he says, looking for someone to help him.

Coriolanus takes charge and hands Caspian his dessert, "Here you go Cas." With all children happily fed, Soarynn digs into her own large slice of carrot cake, humming as she chews. Coriolanus takes a moment to admire her because even when she's eating she's just so graceful, so poised and mindful of others.

She catches him staring and blushes before swallowing, "What? Do I have frosting on my face?" Coriolanus feigns a look of concern and nods, "Yes, right here in fact." He leans in as if inspecting the frosting and places a quick kiss on Soarynn's lips, causing her to gasp.

The girls giggle at the show of affection, they're at that age where everything is "so romantic," especially their parents kissing. Every time Coriolanus brings Soarynn a gift, the girls fawn over the gesture, telling him how romantic and sweet he is.

Coriolanus sees it as a win-win situation. The girls see their father being a loving husband towards their mother and he's setting the standard for their future husbands as well.

"You're horrible," Soarynn chides to which he grins, "I know you just want some of my cake." Coriolanus eyes the cake for a moment and nods, "Well what's mine is yours, and what's yours is mine." Soarynn rolls her eyes at the argument he loves to use whenever he wants to eat off of her plate. It helps that Soarynn rarely finishes her entire meal, leaving just enough for him to eat and feel full and content.

"Mommy?" Soarynn looks over at Celeste who wears a sweet smile on her face, "Yes darling?" Coriolanus finds himself never truly knowing what the children will ask next. It can vary from the weather to war. "How did you know that you were in love with Daddy?"

Well, that's a very good question.

Soarynn's eyes widen and she looks at Coriolanus who raises his eyebrows expectantly, "Go ahead Soarynn, tell them how you knew that I was your one true love." His pride is something that Soarynn constantly feeds and she rolls her eyes before looking back at Celeste, "Well for starters, he never left me alone." Coriolanus scoffs at a statement that's somewhat true but somewhat offensive. He can't help it if he's obsessed with her.

"He always wanted to take me on dates, go on shopping trips, spend time with me no matter what we were doing," she elaborates and it sounds much better when she puts it that way. Coriolanus nods approvingly, "He also is very charming," Soarynn adds, a blush crawling across her cheeks, "always knowing what to say to sweep me off my feet."

Coriolanus loves teasing Soarynn about how flustered she gets whenever he compliments her and she hasn't changed a bit since he first met her. The girls lean closer, eager to hear about their parents before they were born. "But above all," Soarynn continues, "Daddy always took care of me without me ever having to ask him to do so. He always protected me, kept me safe, and made me feel loved and valued. That's when I knew I loved him when I felt like no one else in the world could make me feel the way he did."

Coriolanus is beaming with pride now and the looks on the girl's faces make it all worth it.

"How romantic," Ceraphina sighs.

Coriolanus chuckles and takes a spoon, helping himself to some carrot cake, "Terribly romantic. Don't forget to drink your hot chocolates before they go cold," he reminds them. Both girls nod and eagerly finish their cupcakes, not wanting to miss out on yummy drinks.

"Not a bad way to spend a rainy day hmm?" Soarynn whispers to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. Coriolanus presses a kiss to her temple and squeezes her thigh, "Not a bad way at all my darling."

| tumblr drabble/oneshot |

[separatist-apologist]

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

Feyre and Nesta come to Autumn the night before Elain’s wedding, tanned and a little blonder than normal. It was too late to intervene—Elain had already been fitted for the dress she’d wear tomorrow and was, essentially, under lock and key. No guards, but an endless parade of servants that seemed to pop up any time she tried to leave the room.

Elain knew that was Lucien’s doing. He’d been sleeping on the sofa she now sat on each night, keeping watch so she didn’t try to escape and vanishing before she woke up. They’d barely exchanged a sentences worth of words since she’d foolishly climbed over the balcony.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asked as Nesta paced back and forth. If she told her sisters the truth, they were likely to do something foolish. Something that got them all in trouble. Nesta was already trying to angle out of her marriage and didn’t need Elain mucking that up. 

“Excited,” she lied, catching the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “And nervous, of course. We barely know each other.”

“Is he kind?” Nesta demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes,” Elain replied, not bothering to add that he was rude in equal measure. 

“All mother talks about is how handsome the Vanserra’s are,” Nesta said with a dark scowl. “I see nothing special about them.”

Feyre shrugged. “They’re not ugly.”

“They’re hardly beautiful, either,” Nesta argued. If Feyre said the sky was blue, Nesta would argue it was gray and if Nesta thought the Vanserra’s were ugly, then Feyre found them to be impossibly beautiful. They had always been that way, leaving Elain to mediate.

“There is a charm to them, certainly,” she agreed, not taking any particular stance. “I am acclimating well. How are things at home?”

“Dull,” Feyre said as Nesta opened her mouth. “I paint and Nesta plays piano and we wither away, waiting for our turn to be good, dutiful wives.”

“They’ve banned arranged marriages in Summer,” Nesta said sharply, her tone rife with implications. Run to Summer, she seemed to say. As if Summer would risk a war with their neighbors simply to harbor her. 

“Perhaps other courts will follow suit,” Elain said noncommittally. It was too late for her. Tomorrow she’d walk willing with Lucien through a priestesses temple, watched by her family and his as they pledged fidelity and honor to the other. It was a farce and one Elain was committed to seeing through, now. If her sisters managed to escape their own prescribed fates, she wished them well.

But there was no more escape for her. 

“Have you seen anything?” Feyre questioned. Elain bit her bottom lip.

Yes, she wanted to say. How did she explain that what she’d seen was a particularly steamy affair with the man she had sworn she wouldn’t touch until she was forced to. Elain refused to think about it lest Lucien scent the accompanying arousal that always followed and got the wrong idea.

Visions were imprecise, a snapshot of what could happen and not necessarily what would. A wrong turn, a different word spoken and the entire world rearranged itself. 

That did nothing to remove the image of Lucien without his clothes shifting over her, or the expression on his face—

“Elain?”

She blinked. “No, nothing. I haven’t looked, though, either.”

“Well, maybe you should tonight,” Feyre suggested. Elain only smiled, certain she did not want to know what the next day had in store for her. Let it remain a mystery, even from her. If she saw herself beneath him, she’d panic and never make it down the aisle. 

There was something she wanted, though, and Elain found exactly how to get it later that afternoon. Cadmus poked his head in, expression guarded.

“Lady Elain?” The second eldest Vanserra looked the most like his father, his red hair browner, his russet eyes lacking some of the ringed gold the rest of his brothers had. Even his features were those of the sharp elegance of the High Lord rather than the softer edges the Lady bore. “How are you?”

“I…” A dagger glinted off Cadmus’s belt, silver hilt inlaid with vibrant rubies. “Can I borrow that?”

Cadmus looked down at his body, hands hovering over the weapon. “My dagger?”

Elain made her eyes big and round as she bit her bottom lip, and hoped Cadmus was no better than the males back home. “I don’t know how to use it, if you’re worried for your brothers safety”

“What’s to know? Stick the sharp end in anything soft,” he said with a wry smile before unstrapping the hilt. “If you do stab my brother, try not to kill him.”

Elain blinked. “Just…just like that?”

“It’s become almost a tradition to provide my new sisters with a weapon to use against my brothers. I’m starting to think Vanserra’s like to be threatened.”

She frowned. “It’s not like that.”

“For you, maybe,” he chuckled, watching as Elain quickly hid the dagger beneath an ornate pillow. “If you’re frightened, though, you could tell me.”

That was curious. “Why? What would you do?”

“What any good brother would do. Knock him around like he’s a youngling again, and hope his good sense returns to him.”

“That’s…unexpectedly kind,” she murmured. 

“We’re nearly family, right?” he said gruffly, glancing back toward the hall. “Anyway ah…don’t kill him. And uh…if you need any help, ask Arina. You know, for plausible deniability.”

“Right,” she agreed, holding back the urge to laugh. The Vanserra’s could be so unintentionally funny when they wanted to be. Absently, Elain wondered what Nesta would make of Cadmus. Nothing positive, she decided.

Nesta was supposed to marry a High Lord, which was a tragedy given how she hated all of them. Maybe all men, truthfully—Elain had never once seen her sister betray any interest despite the numerous men who had been interested in her. 

Elain hid the dagger beneath her pillow once Cadmus left, just in case Lucien decided to try anything. Elain knew she was likely going to have to let him touch her, but if he tried anything she didn’t like, she’d whip the dagger out just to remind him that he might be married to her, but he didn’t own her. 

It made her feel a little better, though only marginally. As she made her way through the palace, Elain found servants hanging floral arrangements and cleaning every surface for the upcoming spectacle. Everything smelled like cinnamon somehow and if Elain was braver, she might have made her way to the kitchen to see what they were cooking.

If she was braver still, she might have asked to help.

Instead, Elain emerged into the gloomy afternoon with a heavy sigh. It felt like the world was mourning, too. She intended to meander through the apple orchard again, kicking the rotting fruit on the ground with the toe of her boot until she didn’t feel so angry anymore.

Instead, she found Connall and Tanwen standing off to the side, flanked by two smoke gray dogs, each holding a rather large axe. When they saw her, their eyes lit up.

“Baby sister!” They called in unison, making their way toward her. “Want to smash some pumpkins with us?” “Smash some what?” she repeated as one of the large dogs wound its way through her legs, sniffing at her clothes with curiosity. 

“Pumpkins,” Connall said, russet eyes glinting with mischief. 

“It’s an old tradition,” Tanwen added. Of the two, Tanwen was taller and built more like a warrior. Connall was slighter, with a prettier face and hands that didn’t look like they’d done a hard day's work in their life. Tanwen’s hair was longer and braided off his face while Connall sported a shaggier look that seemed like it was popular with whoever he was courting.

With a face like that, Elain guessed everyone. 

“Smashing pumpkins is a tradition?”

They nodded solemnly. Connall added, “Whenever the Forest House is overrun, we come out here and destroy the heaviest looking pumpkins we can find. C’mon, join us. Beats sulking through the grounds.”

“I wasn’t sulking,” she replied, though she fell into step between them. 

“Sure you weren’t,” Tanwen said, elbowing her gently. “I’m sure you are merely contemplating the marital bliss you’re soon to find with little brother.”

“I don’t know how to swing an axe,” Elain admitted. Connall’s smile sharpened.

“We’ll teach you.”

The pair, accompanied by a dog she later learned technically belonged to Arina—Apollo—and another that Tanwen was fond of—Artemis—made their way toward a sprawling pumpkin patch. Elain was fascinated as Tanwen and Connall picked out three large pumpkins, hauling them each one by one before dropping them at her feet.

“Ladies first,” Tanwen said, cheeks ruddy from exertion.

Elain considered them, before pointing at one that was still a little green and covered in warts. Connall picked it up for her and set it atop a tree stump before handing her the smooth, wooden handle of the axe.

“Hold it like this,” Tanwen began, positioning himself behind Elain so his arms were wrapped around her. Warm, callused hands covered her own as he positioned them on the handle.

“Pull it back like this—not too far or you’ll drop it and hurt yourself. Use the power from your thighs, okay? And then swing hard—”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The three turned and Elain realized Tanwen and Connall must have known Lucien was nearby. He looked furious, though it was hard to take him seriously with Arina skipping merrily at his side.

“I’m debauching your wife, what does it look like I’m doing?” Tanwen said, throwing a rather charming wink in her direction. “She doesn’t know how Autumn Court females treat a male on their wedding night—”

A snarl ripped from Luciens throat before he settled himself, running a hand through his windblown hair. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Elain demanded, pointing the axe at her soon-to-be husband. 

“Lucien’s just grumpy—”

“I’m not grumpy,” Lucien interrupted as Arina laughed, hands clasped in front of her body.

“Your sisters gave him a good dressing down.”

“It was pretty funny,” Eris Vanserra chimed in, wrapping an arm around his wife's neck to kiss the top of her head. “Nesta Archeron has a barbed tongue and no sense of propriety.”

“That’s not true,” Elain protested, interested in what her sister said. “You’re thinking of Feyre.”

“It was both of them,” Lucien grumbled as he rubbed his jaw. “I thought the ladies of the Spring Court were sweet.”

Elain took that moment to swing, her sharpened blade slicing easily through the pumpkin. Tanwen whooped as Connall and Eris laughed and Lucien…Lucien merely watched, his expression unreadable. 

“Who told you that?” Elain asked him, dress covered in pumpkin guts. 

It felt good, though, in that moment, to wipe the look off his face. She was sweet. 

Just not for him.

LUCIEN:

Lucien tugged at the golden cuffs on his maroon jacket. He was deeply uncomfortable and somehow sweating despite how early it was.  He hadn’t slept at all the night before and given the noises coming from behind the door that they were about to share, Elain hadn’t either. It hadn't been crying, exactly…but something akin to mourning had been happening. It occurred to him that perhaps Elain had her own Jesminda that she missed.

Lucien couldn’t bring himself to care much. Instead, he perched himself in a tree outside the palace, closed his eyes, and prayed. 

Bring her back to me. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything.

Easy words for a male who knew the Mother would not indulge this request. Lucien would have traded anything to see Jesminda right then. To hear her tell him it was going to be okay and somehow, someway this was all going to work out in their favor. He wanted to feel her hands on his face, her mouth slanted against his. He wanted to bury himself inside her and sob into her shoulder as he told her about the nightmare he was living.

And to do so would be the ultimate betrayal of the love he felt for her. To see her was to condemn her to death. She was gone, and Lucien knew she wouldn’t come back, and if she did, he wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t acknowledge her.

Wouldn’t look at her.

It didn’t stop him from pretending anyway. What kind of male was he, he wondered? His wife was inside preparing herself to marry him and he was outside wishing she was someone else. Daydreaming about another female. Would he think of Jesminda as he betrayed her later that night? 

Lucien half hoped Jesminda hated him. He certainly hated himself.

Lucien remained outside until Eris tracked him down, dressed in a deep brown jacket and cream colored pants. His brother swung himself easily into the tree, grunting softly as he sat on the opposite branch. “Brooding?”

It was almost comical. It was a scene they’d played before, only in opposite roles. Lucien had once gone looking for Eris the day of his wedding, finding him in the same tree likely with the same look of frustration on his face. Eris had wanted a way out, too, and he’d known what was waiting on the other end for him was his mate. There was something to work toward, at least.

Lucien didn’t care what Arina said—he didn’t believe he could love someone as deeply as he loved Jesminda and not be mates. 

“Just thinking,” Lucien said, wishing Eris would mind his own business. 

“You’ve got ten more minutes to find a last minute loophole,” Eris warned. “Though, I think you should marry her.”

“Of course you do.”

“She’s better than the females at court. Do you want father to pick one of them?”

“I want him to let me choose my own wife,” Lucien snarled, unable to keep his anger down.

“Love is for the lesser fae,” Eris said, ignoring the fact that he was in love with his wife. That was merely luck, Lucien supposed. “You are simply a cog in fathers political machinations. You know that.”

“Why not Tanwen? Or Cadmus?”

“Because Elain is a second daughter with no magical ability, unlike her sisters,” Eris reminded him, a cold edge creeping into his voice. He ought to have known better than to look for comfort from his brother. Eris had done his duty no matter how little he’d wanted to, giving Eris a mate and Beron a foot in the solar courts. “He needs sons he can marry off to all his most important nobles. Count yourself lucky that isn’t your fate”

“Is this luck?”

“Elain is nice,” Eris reminded him. “She’s not scheming and you’re unlikely to find her in Tanwen’s bed.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lucien asked, a surge of jealousy flooding through him. He didn’t want her, and yet didn’t want anyone else to want her, either. She was merely off limits. If he could have, he’d have ordered them all not to speak to her, either. 

Swinging his legs out of the tree, Eris landed smoothly back on solid ground. The world was mocking him—after two weeks of rumbling thunder and moody fog, the sun had come out blazing, igniting the world in a golden glow. 

“I’m certain. Now get down before father realizes you’re missing and takes the lash to your back on your wedding night.” Lucien considered it only briefly, but ultimately chose to join Eris on the ground, heart thudding painfully in his chest. 

Eris didn’t look at him at all, adorned in a crown of burnished leaves similar to the one Lucien wore. As they stepped back into the Forest House, Lucien felt the full weight of it for the first time in his life. Never had he ever felt more like a High Lord's son, the weight of his responsibility and duty dragging behind him like chains wrapped around his ankles.

He was drowning, and it didn’t matter. Lucien followed Eris through the labyrinth of halls toward the adjoining temple that spiraled deep into the ground, housing their family jewels and a private library you need permission to enter. Lucien knew on any given day, Arina would be down in the dark reading by faelight. 

Priestesses historically were not welcome in Autumn. Beron found them too scheming, but feared angering the mother by shutting them out entirely. His solution was using daughters of Autumn, deemed unlikely to marry by their families, and making them priestesses with fathers that had a vested interest in curbing their ambition. Housing them in the palace allowed the High Lord to keep a watchful eye on them via his wife, who was charged with overseeing the priestesses along with the ladies at court. 

Now the head priestess stood at the end of the temple, adorned by multicolored light from the stained glass behind her. Rows of benches held their families, though Beron sat behind the priestess on a throne built specifically for him, lest anyone forget the true power of Autumn. 

Elain was waiting in the atrium just outside, dressed, hilariously, in a fluffy gown of white lace and pale pink ribbon. Her hair was piled high atop her head, as if someone with a grudge had decided to try and make the beautiful Elain as unappealing as possible.

It was working, too. Lucien couldn’t help his barking laugh when he saw her, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings overhead. Elain turned, eyes wide with horror that melted into irritation.

“Be quiet,” she hissed, shoving the traditional red ribbon of Autumn against his chest. His brothers filed in behind them, not daring to make eye contact or otherwise react. 

“Who did you piss off?”

“This was my mothers wedding dress,” Elain informed him, chin held high in the air. “And the traditional bridal clothes of Spring.”

Lucien only shook his head, thinking of how lovely Arina had looked draped in red. There was no point in starting his marriage by telling his wife she looked awful, but…well. Lucien wondered if Elain felt beautiful right then.

“Come on,” he murmured, offering her his arm. Elain took a breath, eyes glassy, but otherwise nodded her head. She had more conviction on her expression than Lucien felt, and it was sobering. This was happening, he realized. Under the watchful gaze of not just his father, but the High Lord of Spring, Lucien was marrying this stranger. Lucien could barely breathe, couldn’t think as he stood in that beam of light, eyes trained on Elain without actually seeing her. Elain seemed to be employing similar tactics, repeating the words when demanded but otherwise standing utterly still.

Something was building, some emotion Lucien thought must be radiating out of him. It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t hatred, though it felt somehow like both mixed together. Holding the ribbon in his hand, Lucien began winding it around their wrists until the long sleeves of her ugly dress pushed upward, pressing them skin to delicate skin. 

The scene of Elain invaded his senses once again, making him dizzy. He needed fresh air, to get far, far away from her. Elain looked up at him through dark lashes, their eyes connecting just as the priestess pronounced them married. Something solid slammed into him. 

No, not slammed.

Snapped.

Lucien stumbled backwards, forgetting for a moment they were still tied together. Elain came with him, falling into his chest and oh, he wished she wouldn’t touch him just as his traitorous body ignited with pleasure.

Touch her, smell her, taste her—

Lucien righted Elain, trying to apologize but unable to get the words out. If he spoke, he might just blurt the truth out. 

You’re my mate.

If Elain knew, she was doing a far better job than he was hiding it. Her expression was one of confusion but not of recognition. If she didn’t know, good. There must be some way out, he reasoned, even as every other part of him rebelled at the thought. The Mother was mocking him. Elain Archeron was mocking him, with her beautiful face half lost under the weight of her gown and hair. Who had done this to her?

Lucien wanted to kill them.

“Are you okay?” Elain whispered, ignoring the crowd promptly descending upon them.

It wasn’t a lie when he said, “No. I’ve never been less okay in my life.”

And it was all her fault.

ELAIN:

Elain wanted to cry. The Lady of Autumn had done her best to try and make Elain look presentable, but it had been her mothers wishes to see her dressed like a traditional bride of Spring—the sort that had fallen out of fashion centuries before. She could still hear Lucien's barking laugh in her ear and the look of disgust on his face once he’d tied that ribbon around them.

It shouldn’t have mattered, truthfully, but Lucien had looked every inch an Autumn Court prince and she…she’d looked ridiculous. Embarrassing. Only her mother was happy, which seemed to be the only thing that ever mattered. Who cared if Elain was suffering internally so long as everyone else got what they wanted? 

Stomping from the great hall, where a lavish feast in her honor had been prepared, Elain made her way outdoors into the sunshine. It was only there that she began pulling pins out of her hair like a petulant child, tossing them to the leaves with reckless abandon. 

Why couldn’t she make peace with what was happening? Everyone else in her position had. Arina and Eris were in love, her parents were in love, the Lady of Autumn and the High Lord…tolerated each other. And Elain couldn’t even muster that. 

She hated Lucien with a passion that clawed at her chest and threatened to strangle her. She didn’t want him to touch her, not like this. Not when the sight of him cringing away as he disentangled himself from her and promptly walked away without so much as a reassurance that things would be okay.

She’d left him downing a cup of wine and imagined he’d be so drunk he was incapacitated for the night. That was a good thing, right? So why did it make her feel so awful? So ugly, so…so unwanted. Cast aside by everyone, loved by no one. She wanted to curl up somewhere and wait to see how long it took them to notice she was missing.

Elain turned her attention to the forest, determined to march right in. She bet Lucien noticed when it was time to do his husbandly duty. Then he’d be missing her. That's all she was good for anyway, right?

Elain didn’t make it two steps before someone stopped her. It wasn’t Lucien or his brothers, nor was it her sisters or anyone from the Spring Court. The male standing before her oozed darkness, with shadows trailing after him like a cape and eyes so vividly blue they looked like twinkling, violet stars.

Elain took a step back on instinct. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, knowing exactly who stood before her. She’d never met him, nor his father, though she had heard the rumors about the High Lord of Night. They said he’d killed Tamlins father.

They said Tamlin killed his. 

Rhysand didn’t need to wear a weapon to seem lethal. Tall and powerfully built, she was certain if he wanted to, he could end her right there. His lips curved upward into a smile and too late, she remembered the people in his court were rumored to read minds.

“I hear congratulations are in order. Married to little Lucien…how delighted you must be.”

“I…” Elain trailed off, heart hammering like a jack rabbit. 

“I don’t think I’d leave my new bride to wander the grounds,” Rhysand continued, jamming his hands into his pockets absently. “But perhaps the males of Autumn are more…liberated…here.”

Elain’s mouth was dry. “Can I help you with something?”

Rhysand cocked his head, a lock of blue black hair trailing into one of his eyes. “Can you help me?” he asked, pondering this question with faux concentration. “I suppose you can. I’m looking for—”

“Rhysand!” Eris Vanserra barked, crunching onto leaves without ceremony. “Decided to show your ugly face for once? Or will I find your spy lurking in my woods again?”

“There’s no need for hostility,” Rhysand purred, eyes trailing behind Eris toward Feyre, who’d clearly been trailing Eris. “I’ve come to speak with your father.”

“Does Elain Archeron look like the High Lord of Autumn?” Eris demanded, his annoyance plain.

“She is far lovelier, I’ll admit, though your father has his charms—”

“Stop talking,” Eris muttered, nodding his head toward the doors so Rhysand would follow. Elain watched the High Lord of Night even when Eris’s fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her back inside with him. Rhysand was looking at Feyre in her spring green gown, hair half braided off her face. There was something curious about his expression—as if he’d never seen a female before and wanted to study her.

Feyre wrinkled her nose back, betraying her unguarded disgust before turning on her heel and flouncing back inside and to Elain’s surprise, Rhysand chuckled. He didn’t know how skilled Feyre was with a weapon, training in secret with a sentry she’d once been friends with before Tamlin found out and had him sent to the border. It was too late, then. Feyre was a menace with a bow and arrow and not horrible with a sword, either. No one could control her and in truth, not many tried.

Elain wondered what Tamlin would do with a wife that liked to stalk the woods for monsters. Monsters like Rhysand, Elain thought, wondering if Feyre hadn’t sensed his presence and come looking for the disturbance. She half wanted to see the showdown, if only to watch a High Lord get trounced by a noble's youngest daughter.

Feyre was nowhere to  be found by the time they all landed in the Great Hall. The once lively feast fell silent—even the musicians stopped their playing to watch, wide-eyed, as Rhysand strolled into the room. His eyes slid over the long tables piled with food, the people stopped mid-dance, and those that sat at tables holding goblets, drinking until their fair skin was ruddy from wine.

He grinned when he saw Beron. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. Beron looked murderous, though he stood quickly while eyeing Eris trailing just behind. Elain watched as Cadmus fell into step beside his elder brother, the two flanking their father when he came down the elevated platform that held the throne he’d been lounging on. Everyone tried to pretend this was merely business as usual.

The music restarted and chatter resumed as Beron and Rhysand made their way out of the room, but Elain knew every immortal ear was straining to hear what was whispered between them. Why now, she wondered? Tamlin was gripping his goblet so tightly Elain could see the whites of his knuckles and Nesta’s eyes danced with silver flames, arms crossed over her chest.

Elain started to make her way to Nesta to ask when Lucien caught her attention. He was drunk, she realized. Stumbling forward, he grinned broadly not at her, but at someone behind her. Elain didn’t turn to see the female he was making eyes at, unwilling to even acknowledge how humiliating his behavior was. 

“You reek,” Elain hissed, catching Lucien by the arm and turning him around. “Go drink some water.”

“Telling me what to do already?” he asked, eyes strangely glassy as he looked down at her. There was an intensity to his expression she didn’t think she liked. It was as if he was undressing her with his gaze. 

“Yes. Water. Now,” she hissed quietly enough that no one but Lucien could hear.

“And if I say no?” he challenged. Elain wanted to cry. 

“You are not the only one experiencing misery, Lucien, and yet am I out here making a fool of you?” she demanded, hating the way her voice cracked beneath angry tears. “You could at least keep it behind closed doors.”

Lucien considered this. “You’re right. I…” he swallowed, sliding his hand over hers in the crook of her elbow so she had to join him as he went for water. “Sit down and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Do it, or I’ll feed you from my hand like a baby bird,” he threatened, pulling out a chair from a neglected, empty table. Lucien dropped beside her, gulping down icy water as Elain picked food from a platter in front of her and spread it over two plates.

“Here,” she said, pushing a plate toward a wide eyed, strangely ashen looking Lucien.

“I—I’ve eaten already,” he said, gingerly moving the plate further from view. “You’re kind to offer, though.”

He was so strange, she decided. If he didn’t want to eat, he could suffer, then. No one could say she hadn’t tried, though. Elain began chewing, lost in thoughts of Rhysand just outside the forest grounds and her family that would vanish before the night was over. Her stomach tumbled as she thought about what the night had in store for her. Perhaps if she closed her eyes tightly it would be over quickly without a lot of fuss.

“Was there another male?” Lucien asked abruptly, interrupting Elain’s considerations. Looking at him, she found that same burning intensity from a few moments before. She didn’t think she liked when he looked at her that way.

“What?”

“Back in Spring. Was there a male you…preferred?”

Elain shook her head, though she wanted to ask why it even mattered? She was here, wasn’t she, wishes be damned? 

“None?” 

“No, Lucien. I’ve been set aside for you my entire life.”

“Sure, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “That didn’t mean you had to…”

Elain wished a hole would open beneath her and swallow her up. Surely he wasn’t implying that he wished she’d been with someone else mere hours before he was about to be with her? If she’d been less of a lady, she might have launched herself across the table to throttle him. 

“Please do not worry about it,” she implored, desperate for this conversation to end. “Let’s just…lets just get through this afternoon.” Lucien eyed her dress again, but kept whatever comments he had to himself. “Fine.”

His reluctant compliance was better than expected. And Elain would take what she could get.

LUCIEN:

“You’re acting strange,” Arina said, catching Lucien in the hall on the way to his new bed chamber. His old one had been cleared out without ceremony, and he’d bet if he went to Elain’s room, he’d find her folding his clothing like a good little wife

“I’m not,” he lied. Lucien was desperately trying to avoid his brother and Arina, if only because he was afraid that might see him and just know somehow. Or smell it, more likely—the way he could currently smell the mating bond Arina and his brother shared wrapped around her like a lingering perfume.

It smelled like sex. Lucien hated it. It was like a warning pushing up against him, reminding him that she belonged to someone—a male who might rip Lucien’s throat out, should he feel like it. Elain seemed oblivious to what was happening which was the only mercy Lucien could find in their miserable situation. How long could he keep her in the dark before she realized? Before she felt the pull, the urge to touch him, too? Before someone scented him on her and told her? 

“What’s going on?”

“Besides being actually married to a stranger, nothing at all. I, for one, have never been better—”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Arina snapped, clearly irritated. “There’s something else about you.”

“I’m just…” Lucien ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It's my wedding night, Arina, and my wife hates me. Put the pieces together.”

“I doubt she’ll be upset if you put it off.”

“Or she’ll run and tell her father to get out of the marriage,” Lucien retorted, though truthfully, Elain simply didn’t seem like the vindictive sort. His mind drifted back to lunch, watching as she put together two plates as his mind warred. On the one hand, the part of him driven by instinct had been screaming and clawing for him to simply accept it from her, thus cementing the bond before she ever had a choice.

The other, more rational part of him, wanted to throw that plate across the room before cursing at the Mother for what she’d done. It was supposed to be Jesminda. It was Jesminda. Lucien’s heart beat erratically at the realization that all the times he’d laid with her and sworn she was his mate, when they’d laced their fingers and talked about when it might snap…all of it had been a farce. 

Lucien couldn’t stop thinking about Jes’s own mate. He was out there somewhere. Maybe she’d find that male and she’d realize what they had paled in comparison. Would she laugh a little at their silliness? How young they’d been, how foolish to believe what they had transcended the gods.

Lucien would have left Elain if Jes appeared right then. If she’d asked him—he wouldn’t make her beg—he would have left. Damned Elain, his life, his mating bond, just to see her again. And he knew that if Jes learned he had a mate, she’d bow out entirely. When the bond snapped, there was a finality to it. 

He was a mated male. He owed it to Elain to try and make things work, and maybe he owed it to himself, too. That didn’t mean Lucien wanted it, either. Gods, he didn’t know what he wanted other than to drink himself into oblivion and wait for some obvious answer to present itself.

“When Eris informed you that you were his mate, what did you do?” Lucien asked, interrupting Arina’s self-important lecture about being a good husband.

“I suffocated the air in the room until he got on his knees and apologized,” she said, eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s different, Lucien.” Elain probably couldn’t nearly kill him—he’d been told she had no magic to speak of—but he imagined her reaction would go nearly as well. 

“Just…let me deal with my marriage my way, okay?” Lucien ordered, unwilling to be nice to Arina at that moment. Butt out, he wanted to add, though slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him was response enough. 

Inside was something out of Lucien’s personal hell. Elain rose to her feet when she saw him, eyes bright from what seemed to be some amount of crying. Her hair was unbound and artfully arranged around a night dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Lucien blinked, frozen in place as his eyes moved of their own accord.

BETRAYER

“I—put on a robe, please,” Lucien managed, turning in a circle like some kind of animal. She was his. He had no claim to her at all. The competing desires threatened to unmake him. Lucien heard Elain sniff.

“Shouldn’t we…”

“Not like this,” he breathed, certain he would have felt that way even without the mating bond. “I—we could just…go to bed?”

“What about…you know?”

Lucien took a steadying breath and turned again, relieved to find Elain had wrapped a throw around her body. Her face had a little more color, her eyes a little less red. 

“If I offered to just…pretend…would you tell someone?”

“No,” she breathed with the saddest look of hope on her face. “I would swear we did.”

Oh, thank the Mother. “Then we’ll turn the lights off, get into bed, and in the morning go about our business as if we did.”

Elain nodded, dropping the blanket gently to walk to their bedroom. Lucien nearly choked at the sight of her from behind. Mother spare him, she’d be the death of him. Lucien didn’t need to like a female in order to admit she was appealing and Elain…Elain was just as pretty from behind as she was from the front. His eyes slid down her spine, landing on the soft curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, the sway of her ass. 

Cauldron damn him.

Elain turned as Lucien steadied himself on the frame, wondering if sleeping beside her was a good idea at all. Servants talked—and everyone was nosy. If he was caught sleeping on the sofa, his father would know and put Lucien in a deeply uncomfortable position. Lucien wouldn’t put it past his father to demand to watch. He’d like enjoy knowing that he ruined every other coupling they’d ever have.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned, holding up a trembling finger. Was he looking at her in some particular kind of way? Lucien was certain he wasn’t. Still, he merely crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed his new wife. 

“I was lost in thought,” he said, forcing himself to look only at her face. As if that made things any better. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful it made his teeth ache. She’d always been beautiful, which had warranted the space—if he spent too much time in her presence, he might find he liked her, and liking the woman who’d been forced upon him felt like giving in to his fathers demands.

Or worse, admitting Beron might have been right about him. 

Elain still eyed him warily as he crossed the room, grabbing a pair of linen pants neatly folded in a drawer that had her scent all over it. In the bathroom, Lucien splashed cold water on his face and ordered himself to get together. The mating bond was making him stupid. He didn’t want her…and yet he did. Physically, anyway. Lucien wondered if he could get away with escaping to one of the nearby cities for a few weeks just to clear his head long enough to stand in her presence. 

He returned to find Elain dividing the bed in half using pillows. “That’s not necessary,” he mumbled, reaching over her to toss one to the floor. “And obvious.” “I don’t want you getting any ideas,” she replied in that prissy way of hers. 

Lucien bared his teeth. “Trust me, lady. My only idea is sleep.”

“I thought all males wanted—”

“I’m not an animal,” he growled, fully aware he was a liar. “I don’t relish the thought of forcing myself on someone, wife or otherwise.”

“And if I never want you?” Elain asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’ll tell all of Pyrthian you are terribly infertile and I’m a martyr—”

Elain launched a pillow at his face. “You’re not funny.”

Lucien flopped into bed, one hand thrown over his face. “You wound me.”

“I don’t believe anything could wound that over inflated ego of yours,” she responded. Lucien was learning that despite her meek appearance, his wife had a sharp tongue. He rather liked it, if only because it absolved him of any guilt he might feel for his own remarks. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Lucien said, settling against the pillow. “You could tell me, you know. If there was another male.”

“There wasn’t. There isn’t.” There was something bitter about her tone.

“Never?” he questioned, his curiosity making him stupid.

“Never.”

“You’re not…?” Shut up shut up shut up— “You’re not curious?”

“Stop talking, Lucien.”

“If it were me—”

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’m telling you to stop while you’re ahead,” Elain gritted out. “Find someone else, if you’re feeling frustrated, but don’t try and frame my lack of experience as an opportunity.”

“Cauldron, Elain, I wasn’t…” But he was. Lucien knew it was a bad idea. If he got himself in her with the mating bond pounding in his chest, he was likely to take things too far, to do something he regretted. He couldn’t help himself no matter how badly he wanted to, and her proximity was clouding his judgment. He tried to pull up an image of Jes, but his mind shifted to Elain in sheer white lace and the rosy pink of her nipples—

Lucien rolled over, frustrated more with himself than anything else. There was no way he was going to sleep, no way he trusted his dreams not to betray him.

Not for the first time, he wished he was dead.

But maybe it was the first time he’d wished for it the loudest.

And the gods did nothing.

[shefanispeculator]

Blake Shelton fans have gotten used to Gwen Stefani turning up on stage when Shelton makes his way through Arizona.

They hadn’t even been married a year when Shelton brought her out at Country Thunder Arizona in 2022 to join him on their hit duets “Nobody But You” and “Happy Anywhere.”

And Stefani was there when Shelton brought his tour through Glendale last year, strolling out in a white fur jacket and knee-high boots to lend her voice and charismatic personality to “Happy Anywhere” and “Purple Irises.”

But this year’s Concert in the Coliseum at the WM Phoenix Open on Saturday, Feb. 1, is the first time we’ve experienced the power couple in a co-headlining concert.

And this time, there were no duets, which certainly felt like a missed opportunity. I kept waiting for Stefani to emerge when Shelton started “Happy Anywhere.” And when she didn’t, I just naturally assumed she’d be out later.

Even after he ended the concert with “God Give Me Strength,” it felt weird leaving, thinking, “What if she comes out and I’m already halfway to my car.”

But that’s what didn’t happen. Here’s what did.

Gwen Stefani an ageless wonder in effervescent Phoenix Open set

Stefani got the party started with the soulful pop hooks of “The Sweet Escape,” flanked by eight dancers and looking positively radiant in her tartan outfit while moving with an ageless energy that gave me instant flashbacks to the first time I saw No Doubt in the '90s.

Before ending with "Hollaback Girl," Stefani brought her set to a triumphant climax with the three songs that launched her career as the voice of No Doubt — an emotional reading of “Don’t Speak" followed by an effervescent “Spiderwebs” and a fiery “Just a Girl," which as Stefani noted is, sadly, more relevant now.

The star was clearly in a playful mood, teasing the crowd for being "awkward" and "weird" on more than one occasion, pretending to scope out the audience for good-looking guys ("I'm just looking; it's like I'm shopping") and telling them, "You'd better be drunk before Blake Shelton gets out here, I tell you. That is my job."

Stefani's vocals sounded great throughout, from the vulnerability she exuded on "Don't Speak" to deeply soulful renditions of "Luxurious" and No Doubt's "Underneath it All."

Other highlights of Stefani's set included a deliriously funky version of the No Doubt classic "Hella Good" to the giddy dance-pop of her solo classic "What You Waiting For?"

Blake Shelton had everyone singing along to a country hit parade

Blake Shelton didn't even try to match the energy his wife brought to the 16th hole. He's got his own thing going on, easing into his part of the evening with "Pour Me a Drink," a single he released last year with Post Malone, the man who headlined last year's Concert in the Coliseum, that checks off all the boxes for a classic Shelton drinking song.

"Let's play some country music," Shelton shouted at the song's conclusion.

"Listen, my name is Blake Shelton," he continued as his backing band slipped into "I'll Name the Dogs" behind him. "And y'all, whoever you are, we all have one thing in common here tonight, I promise you. We all love fun."

That's true. And anyone who's ever seen a Shelton concert knows that having fun and playing country music have been this man's guiding principles for more than 20 years, which may be why he does them both so well.

The crowd was clearly in his corner from the time he hit the stage, and he responded by delivering the good time one expects to have when Shelton comes through town, his boozy good-old-boy-next-door charisma as charming as ever as he led his stellar backing band from one hit single to another.

"Man, I just gotta take a second here and brag on Gwen Stefani, man," he said.

"Can y'all believe? I mean, it's unbelievable. In every way possible. She's unbelievable. Possibly the hardest and (expletive) job I've ever been given in my life is trying to follow Gwen Stefani in concert. It is impossible. Who booked this (expletive)? It's weird."

Stefani doesn't just have songs, Shelton said. She has anthems.

"I was standing over there watching Gwen's show," he said. "And I was thinking 'Man, I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do. This is ridiculous.... I'm just thinking, 'Man, I played a bunch of songs, but what if I play y'all some of those songs that I had out way back in the day? Some of that old stuff."

And with that, the stage was set for a three-song three-song throwback to his early days with "Some Beach," "Ol' Red," and the chart-topping classic that started it all for Shelton, "Austin," an emotional highlight that remains so moving, I was forced to wipe a couple tears away when it was over.

Other highlights of Shelton's performance ranged from "Neon Light" and "Drink On It" to a crowd-pleasing covers of George Strait’s “All My Exes Live in Texas” and Alabama’s “Mountain Music," which gave his fiddle player ample room to show why deserves a raise (and I have no idea what he's paying her, but he should give her more).

After bringing the set to a rowdy climax with “Hillbilly Bone” and “Boys ‘Round Here,” he signed off with an anthemic “God Gave Me You," a song he usually holds off for the encore, but with the rotating stage and all, he decided to skip the formality of walking off and coming back out, asking the crowd, "Can you just pretend like you guys wanted us to do one more song anyway?"

Chances are, they would've stayed for three or four more songs at that point.

[twstinginthewind]

A fan event, starting on September 3! Our story begins with a summons from Headmage Crowley....

“I do suppose you’re all wondering why I called you in here.”

Headmage Crowley sat at his desk, his fingertips steepled beneath his chin as he smiled benignly at the small assemblage of students in front of him. Lilia Vanrouge. Cater Diamond. Kalim al-Asim. Ah, the bright, shining faces of youth! He lowered his hands to the desk. “As you all know, I am more than happy to be able to lend an ear to the distinguished students of Night Raven College, and I have called this meeting with you three to facilitate all of that. How beneficial and foresightful of me! What generous use of my very limited office hours!”

“.... is this about our club, Headmage?” Kalim asked, a bit hesitantly. “I thought that it might be that, since otherwise it would be really weird to have the three of us together here. Oh! Unless we’re all going to be getting an award! Do you think it might be for an award? I do like award ceremonies!! Maybe we can have a little parade first, and we can plan a feast, and—-”

“I’m certain it’s for the club, dear Kalim,” chuckled Lilia, holding up a hand to stop his excitable friend. He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Sadly, the school might not be able to plan an award ceremony of quite the scale you’d envision! The elephant budget’s already quite strained.”

Cater sighed. “Hashtag major bummer, that would have been so ‘cammable. So!” He straightened up in his seat. “What is it that the Pop Music Club can do for you, Headmage? Or is this about membership requirements again…?”

Crowley’s eyes flickered behind his mask. “Ah, Mr. Diamond, you wound me, even as you strike directly at the heart of the matter. Yes, just like the beginning of last year, your membership levels are still shockingly low! There must be some way to encourage participation in your group… and as such, I have the pleasure of presenting you with a magnificent idea, one that will both have potential new club members come to you in droves, and will also prove beneficial to the college. And its financial coffers!!”

“Knew it.” Cater turned to Lilia. “You owe me a can of juice.”

“We have an elephant budget?” Kalim squeaked.

“Of course, Kalim. Do keep up. What is this miraculous idea, Headmage?” Lilia raised an eyebrow suspiciously. “Not that I wouldn’t upend the entirety of Twisted Wonderland to protect our club. Our friendship, the time we spend together, is so very, very precious to me!”

“The idea is thus: our precious Pop Music Club would be in charge of setting up a campus-wide music festival! You can recruit acts from among the student body, set up a spectacular main stage and some less spectacular side stage areas, arrange for merchandise and concessions stands, and of course, be the final headlining act! It would be an excellent way to find new club candidates, and keep your numbers high enough so that poor dear Kalim won’t be left floundering and clubless next year when you two juniors leave for your mandatory fourth-year internships! Is it not the most brilliant and spectacular event you could possibly think of?”

“Yeah, pass.” Cater looked back at his phone.

“I’m inclined to agree. No, thank you, Headmage. That seems like such an undertaking.” Lilia stretched out his arms, and got ready to stand back up.

“But guys!!” Kalim turned to his upperclassmen, looking at them with huge, sparkling eyes. “It’s a festival. Just for us!! Wouldn’t that just be the most incredible thing? We’d even be stars for the day, and everyone can dance and party and be really happy that we made it all happen! I’m already excited about it!!”

“And I have already secured the technology to… what is it that is all the rage with the youth these days, the stream? We will be able to place it in the stream.” Crowley crossed his arms over his chest confidently. “Certainly, it will be a very popular draw; our sporting events are always well-received. But perhaps the arts are not so popular as athletics?”

Cater looked up. “... about how many views for those, Headmage?”

“They number in the millions.”

Cater took a deep breath. His leg bobbed up and down beneath the headmage’s desk. “Hmmmmmmm. And would we be able to attach our own personal online accounts to this stream?”

“Oh, naturally. Why, I would leave that in your hands, or the hands of whomever you decide to assign it to. I’m surely too busy for such a thing, and have no real knowledge of it, despite my years and years in academia.” Crowley tilted his head. “Surely you young, tech-savvy students would do just fine, though…”

“It does seem quite a lot to arrange, though. Isn’t it a lot for three students to be responsible for? Especially when we have so many other responsibilities and shining moments of youth to consider! We can’t be expected to lay all of those aside, can we?” Lilia said all of this with a straight face, but he turned to his fellow club members and gave them a subtle wink.

“But this is your chance to show what a powerhouse of organizational skills the Pop Music Club can be!” Crowley stood behind his desk, a hand on his chest. “Why, it would take a true master tactician to pull off such a feat. Gathering your volunteer forces, setting the goals, planning out each aspect to perfection, you’d—-”

Lilia laughed, interrupting the headmage’s monologue. “Oh, I just wanted to see you go into full dramatic mode. I think we’re all in.”

Kalim’s jaw dropped. “I thought you were against it?!?”

“Oh, not at all!” Lilia giggled into his hand. “I was ready to go ahead from the first word. I just wanted to have our wonderful, generous, erudite headmage really sell the idea to us.”

Crowley pursed his lips. “Well. In any case, gentlemen. I shall expect a show from you three that is truly worthy of Night Raven College and our longstanding dedication to the arts. And also, you need to increase your membership by a minimum of… let’s say thirty-three percent?”

Cater squinted for a moment. “Oh Em Seven. You just need us to get one more member?”

“At least one, yes.” Crowley nodded. “And make the arrangements for the music festival that we have on the campus schedule for some reason, of course.”

Before the others could react, Kalim jumped up out of his seat. “YAHOO! Of course we’ll do it! And we’ll make it shine! The best music festival that Night Raven College has ever had!!”

“THAT is the spirit I want to see from you boys!” Crowley smiled at Kalim. “Now, go prepare, boys, it won’t be long before the big day is here!”

“When is this big day, anyway, Headmage? Y’know, so I can announce the livestream to my followers and all…” Cater opened up Magicam, his thumb poised over the phone.

Crowley sat back down, poised. “A month from today.”

“A what?” Cater and Lilia spluttered together, while Kalim just nodded, bright-eyed as ever.

“A month, my dear students, from today. Thirty days.” He didn’t move, just kept smiling a smile that never quite reached those unsettlingly bright eyes. “Such a generous soul I am, to give you so much advance time! Now go, boys, and give the inaugural Night Raven MusicFest the gala treatment it deserves! Here, I had special shirts made for you. Have fun with it!!” He snapped his fingers, and three brightly-colored tie-dye tee shirts popped into existence on the desk in front of them. “I expect a progress report in a week. You’re dismissed, gentlemen!”

EVENT DETAILS TO FOLLOW ON SEPTEMBER 3! Keep your eyes open!