#princess’ fanfics 👑

[princessvisionary101]

When you’re trying to continue the Nuada X disowned princess reader but can’t freely access word document then my own that I need to pay for.

Good news though is that I have a lot of free time so if I can find another computer charger and see if there is a different writing website where I can freely edit and continue other stuff until I can get the file back that has the Nuada X reader, I will continue with the chapter.

[crownspeaksblog]

I'm reading this catradora fanfic and it has mentioned catra and adora taking off their bras multiple times and every time it happens I'm taken back and the illusion breaks.. not even in this magical princess world have women escaped bras.. seriously the idea of this part cat women wearing a bra sounds insane to me!

[lumentears]

🦴 boningthescions-bracket Follow

Preliminary Round! Who will be the Third's champion in the unofficial-official Most Smashable Scions bracket?

💎 twinkovertheriver Follow

👑 princess-ianthes-foreskin Follow

uh yeah i sure hope she is ;)))))

💎 twinkovertheriver Follow

thanks for the addition necrumblr user princess ianthe's foreskin

🦴 boningthescions-bracket Follow

By the King Undying, you people are dogs. I will reblog as usual.

⚔ middlechild-diagnosed Follow

Me: Haha, I went to Ida and came back with snow blindness from all the fake glitz. :D Haha, I went to the Koinortus Court and came back seven years ago - I would have posted sooner but the joke was pending approval :D Always, Without Fail, Some Fucking Dipshit:

🪐 p4x-d0m1n1 Follow

*Koniortos. Stay in school, kids.

🥴 badjokesbyjohn Follow

A prodigy child spirit talker has escaped Fifth House custody after stealing a priceless artifact. That's right, folks, we've got a small medium at large.

👻 siphon-me-harder Follow

john we've talked about the name thing

⚜ cavpositivity Follow

Hydration Check!

Has your necromancer had water and taken their vitamins/probiotics/perscriptions today?

🗡 cavaliercot-suggestions Follow

(un)friendly reminder that there's nothing wrong with kinky roleplay and the suggestions and scenarios on this blog do not equal endorsement of irl cavalier-necromancer relationships.

🩸 saints-alive Follow

You know what? No. Fuck this, and fuck you fetishising cavalierdom. Frankly, as a necromancer, I'm digusted knowing that my cavalier can't even wipe the blood sweat from my brow without you making it sexual!

🗡 cavaliercot-suggestions Follow

My brother under Dominicus you literally write reader x Necrolord Prime x lyctor fanfic

💀 bonetopick Follow

are we forgetting that OP has literally admitted to owning unpaid servants?

🗡 cavaliercot-suggestions Follow

they're skeletons?????????????

💀 bonetopick Follow

they didn't die to pick up your laundry lazy motherfucker

📜 solace-in-thighs Follow

taking my final exam tonight wish me luck guys!

📜 solace-in-thighs Follow

what thefuck. what the fuck. my cousin Throckmorton told me my metaphors were uninspired and my performance stilted. IF HE KNEW THE FUCKING NUMBERS MY EROTIC POETRY DOES ON NECRUMBLR

📜 solace-in-thighs Follow

joining the cohort. if anyone even cares.

🌹 the-rose-blown-semifrequently Follow

a novel where a flesh magician and a spirit talker become roommates and have wacky adventures

plot twist: the spirit talker is super extroverted and slutty and the life of every party while the flesh magician is so prudish they keep their clothes on in the sonic and so timid they faint at the sight of blood

the novel is called "the spirit is willing but the flesh is meek"

[arcane-vagabond]

Fairy Tale Writing Challenge

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away...

Welcome one and all! If you know me, you know there are few things I love more than a good fairy tale! So, to commemorate 1,500 followers and the rebranding of my blog away from solely being a Top Gun: Maverick blog, I've decided to host a little writing challenge!

Rules:

You MUST be 18+ in order to participate (Your age must be listed somewhere on your blog, I will be checking.)

This writing challenge is open to all fandoms!

This challenge will run continuously.

Send me an ask/message to let me know that you're participating!

You MUST choose both a fairy tale and a word for this challenge! Only one person per word prompt. I will add more if I need to.

Tag/message me when you've posted!

Can be a one-shot, two-parter, or series!

Please use the "read more" feature if your fic is over 500 words.

Please use the hashtag "FTWC" so we can read and reblog your work!

You don't have to follow, but reblogging this post would be nice to get the word out there!

How does this work?

You will pick a fairy tale and then one word from the prompt list. You must incorporate that word somehow whether by using it in the prose itself, or by giving your fic that overall feeling.

If there is a fairy tale you would like to do that is not listed, shoot me a message and I will add it!

Message me if you have any questions!

Entries;

🧸 @arcane-vagabond w/ The Little Mermaid and Desiderium

Fathoms Below - Derek Hale (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @baezen w/ Jack and the beanstalk and Petrichor

A Perilous Place - Isaac Lahey (Teen Wolf)

🧸 @sorchathered w/ Little Red Riding Hood and Apricity

Little Red and Her Wolf - Bucky Barnes (MCU)

🧸 @kissmecaitie w/ Beauty and the Beast and Acrimonious

🧸 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer w/ Cinderella and Sonder

🧸 @hardlyinteresting w/ Peter Pan and Scintilla

🧸 @goldenseresinretriever w/ The Steadfast Tin Soldier and Adust

🧸 @queenofvelaris w/ Sleeping Beauty and Labyrinth

🧸 @elizabeth-holland24 w/ Beauty and the Beast and Juberous

The Beast Within - Jake "Hangman" Seresin (TGM)

🧸 @devil-angel-winchester w/ Rapunzel and Avidulous

Fairy Tales;

👑 The Little Mermaid

👑 Cinderella

👑 Snow White

👑 Sleeping Beauty

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Little Red Riding Hood

👑 Jack and the Bean Stalk

👑 Goldilocks and the Three Bears

👑 Rapunzel

👑 Peter Pan

👑 The Ice Queen

👑 Beauty and the Beast

👑 Hansel and Gretel

👑 The Frog Prince

👑 Alice in Wonderland

👑 Pinocchio

👑 Rumpelstiltskin

👑 the Six Swans

👑 The White Snake

👑 The Princess and the Pea

Prompts;

⭐️ Acrimonious: Deeply or violently bitter

⭐️ Adust: Of a gloomy appearance or disposition

⭐️ Apricity: The warm rays of sun in the winter

⭐️ Avidulous: Somewhat greedy

⭐️ Desiderium: An ardent desire or longing; especially a feeling of loss or grief for something lost

⭐️ Dyspathy: Lack of sympathy

⭐️ Effervescent: Lively, full of energy, bubbly

⭐️ Epeolatry: Admiration of words

⭐️ Eudaemonia: The state of being lucky

⭐️ Futz: To pass time in idleness

⭐️ Graumangere: A great meal

⭐️ Hiebal: Of or relating to winter

⭐️ Hokum: Out-and-out nonsense

⭐️ Juberous: Doubtful and hesitating

⭐️ Labyrinth: A complex set of passageways

⭐️ Melancholy: A feeling of pensive sadness

⭐️ Peripatetic: A nomad; someone who travels from place to place

⭐️ Petrichor: The smell of earth after the rain

⭐️ Raconteur: Someone who's very good at telling stories

⭐️ Scintilla: A trace or spark of something

⭐️Sonder: The realization that each passerby has a full life of experiences, emotions, and problems just like you

⭐️ Sonorous: A deep and full sound

⭐️ Wassail: Mulled wine

[lipstickmarks]

Amy Farrah Fowler really is for the girls

pride and prejudice girlie

bisexual

loves poetry

loves period pieces

obsessed with her best friend

loves shiny things (“I’M A PRINCESS AND THIS IS MY TIARA!!!”)

mommy issues

religious trauma

“i can fix him”

hyper sexual

insecure

woman in STEM !!!

writes self-insert fanfic about herself

princess 👑

[flamigoat]

Peaches 💖🍑👑 - A Far Off Future AU Fanfic

Themes: Friendship, Romance, Humor, Angst, Hurt Comfort

Relationships: Mareach (Mario x Princess Peach), Raypeach (Rabbid Peach x Rayman), and Luaisy (Luigi x Daisy <—Mentioned)

Content Warnings: Pregnancy, going into labor/ giving birth (not explicitly described)

Context: Far Off Future AU (The distant future and continued story of my Phantom Roommates AU for Mario Rabbids) + There are some Rabbid biology and fused Rabbid memory headcanons in this.

Plot Summary: Mario and Princess Peach are expecting twins!! Rabbid Peach is acting as her companion during the pregnancy. When the Princess goes into labor early, it’s up to Peaches (Rabbid Peach) to help her!

Find the fanfic underneath the cut:

Rabbid Peach had never expected to be chosen as her friend, Princess Peach’s companion during her pregnancy. I mean, sure, she maybe had experience in the Rabbid colony she was originally from, but for a human? It was unheard of! She couldn’t even remember that part anyway.

Was it really a good idea to trust her with this?

Though the cheerful smile of her princess was enough to melt her worries away. It was an honor to do this for her. It meant she trusted her deeply, making Peaches feel, ugh, embarrassingly bubbly on the inside.

Bwahaha! Oh it absolutely took everything she had not to burst into tears of joy upon learning her friend was pregnant. Mario would make a wonderful father to Princess Peach’s child. Possibly children! Yeesh, hopefully, humans weren’t like Rabbids in that department.

Anyways, she stayed by her princess’s side, preparing their baby rooms, putting together maternity photoshoots, etc. It all had to be perfect and Rabbid Peach was eager to do it. Anything to make the couple’s shoulders lighter until their babies came. It turns out, they were expecting twins!! Oh my Stars, how exciting!

Sure, some days were more stressful than others. Peaches was lucky her partner Rayman was there with her through it. She’d always be able to come home to him and vent. He’d always provide her a listening ear and offer all the sweet cuddles in the world. Seeing his pretty, goofy smile every day was delightful, having a partner like him by her side. He always loved making him laugh so she could see it. She never thought she’d have a relationship like this.

Flash forward to now and the pair of friends sat together on the balcony overlooking the palace gardens, enjoying their favorite cup of tea. Rabbid Peach was on her phone, scrolling through all the pictures filled with memories of her friend’s pregnancy. She documented every moment, even if she had to cover it up as just wanting to take selfies. She knew how much Princess Peach would love to look back at them, especially when she was due so soon. Only the calming clinks of teacups and the tapping of Rabbid Peach’s fingers on her phone screen broke their silence. Enjoying a peaceful day with her best friend like this, was nice.

The rabbid’s attention drew back to her friend, when their eyes made contact it earned a huff of amusement from her. The princess hummed in response, continuing to sew little decorations into her ever-growing scrapbook. It was filled with pictures of her friends, tidbits of notes depicting how her day went, what she ate, and who she spent time with. Most importantly, telling her babies how excited all their aunties and uncles were to meet them. They were all one big family. A gigantic family of heroes. That warmed Rabbid Peach’s heart immensely to witness.

Looking at her now, her stomach was swollen, visibly pregnant. Wow. How fast time had flown by. The royal doctors knew she was going to be due soon, so she was confined inside the castle walls for now. It was heart-wrenching, watching her friend sink deeply into the dread of boredom. The princess had always hated being treated like she was made of glass. At least the little distractions Rabbid Peach put together were helping. Well, she hoped they were anyway.

Hmph. Now that she thought about it… Bowser hadn’t even tried to kidnap her in a long time. You’d think he would, especially considering she was way more vulnerable now than before. The entirety of the Mushroom Kingdom had been on edge about it, but every day there was a scare for one, he’d never come. Maybe he’d moved on? Or maybe he got the knowledge that it wouldn’t be cool to kidnap somebody pregnant? Heh! Whatever would get through that turtle’s thick skull. It is a lot quieter this way. More peaceful, a nice change of pace for the princess and her subjects.

“Hey, Rabbid Peach? Can I inquire you about something?”, Princess Peach spoke softly, a strangely serious tone to her voice.

“Bwahh! Sure thing! I told you Peach, you can just call me Peachy or Peaches. No need to be formal, we’re friends, remember? Besties! It’s okay!”

Her friend giggled at her, face crinkling with joy. Good. It was nice to let her friend loosen up now and then. Peaches couldn’t imagine what image it’d take to run a country constantly with no breaks in between. She would’ve gone crazy by now if she was in the princess’s place.

“My apologies, Peachy~. Is that better, dearie?”, the normally proper princess stuck her tongue out at her. The rabbid shot back a playfully annoyed look towards her friend, “Yep!”, her voice making a popping sound after the pronunciation of the p to emphasize her point. “So what’d you wanna talk about?”, amusement purred out of her throat.

Oh. This could be good. Some gossip the princess heard among her workers. Oooo! Maybe some drama from the other kingdoms?!? She had been hearing a certain green plumber she knew had been seen out with the princess of Sarasaland. Rabbid Peach sipped her tea eagerly, trying to prepare her throat for a long session of juicy conversation. She’d need it. They could and have talked for hours before.

“Do you ever think you’ll want children?”, Peach purred out casually, earning a sudden coughing fit from her friend in surprise. Rabbid Peach choked on the half swig of her tea, battering her chest with a closed paw. Okay, she was not expecting that!!

Then guilt hit her at her reaction when she saw the worry-stricken expression of her human friend across from her. The princess reached out to her, shooting upwards from her chair to lean over to the rabbid. It was crazy how tall her counterpart was compared to her. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Peaches!! Are you alright, darling?”, her voice quaking with panic. Oh no. She didn’t want to stress her friend out! Ugh! Stupid body! Stop choking!!

“Yes.”, Rabbid Peach wheezed out, voice coming out strained and shrill. After clearing her throat, she turned to her friend, blinking away the tear pricking at her eye. “S’okay, princess. Sorry, I just uh, wasn’t expecting that question.”.

Princess Peach frowned slightly at her friend, a red flush of embarrassment pooling on her cheeks. “Oh Stars! I knew it was too sudden of a question to ask! Sorry if that was improper. I was just…curious is all.”. The princess slumped back into her chair, desperately wiggling around to find a comfortable position to sit that accommodated her pregnant belly. Oh no, she did upset her friend. Augh! C’mon Peachy, you can fix this!

“No, no, no!! It’s not improper or anything! Um. Just, what brought this on?”

“Well… you looked so happy caring for me during the past few months. Truly, I am grateful for all your help! It looks like it’s a natural thing for you, caring for pregnancies. So I figured, maybe you would like children of your own one day. That is all!”

Rabbid Peach’s eye twitched. Wow. Okay. She really could read her like a book, huh? Ah well! Maybe she could change the subject? Peaches leaned back into her chair, quickly trying to turn on her phone. In her nervousness, she fumbled uselessly against the buttons to unlock it. Not subtle at a girl!! She replied casually to cover it up, “Awww! Thanks! Welp! I’m happy to know all my hard work has been appreciated, princess.”.

“It’s Peach, not Princess. We’re, hehe, ‘besties’, remember? Looks like you are dodging the question, my dear.”, the princess gave her a wink. Dang it! She got her there. Oh well, it’d be nice to talk about it. No use in bottling things up. That’d be taking a page out of Rayman’s book. Bwahaha! Peach is right, she’d get nowhere with that mindset.

With a deep sigh, the rabbid relaxed, giving Peach an friendly, yet annoyed look. How dare she know me so well?!?!, Peaches thought. “Urghhh… fine! I don’t know! I hadn’t thought about it until I started helping with your pregnancy. Plus, me and Ray might not even be able to have kids! We’re two different species after all. That must be hard, right? Sides’, he might not even want a family with me anyways.”.

Princess Peach’s posture straightened defensively as if the rabbid had said something horridly offensive to her. She said, “Nonsense!! I think you two would make the most adorable family!”, enthusiasm clear in her voice. Peaches blushed, fur bristling from the compliment. Their family would be adorable?!?! Awww! Did she really think that? That made her so happy, embarrassingly so.

Then the princess leaned towards her counterpart, giving her a sly smile, and raising a brow. Peach moved her hand up to her face, covering the side of her mouth, as if she was about to say something positively scandalous. “Do not think I have not noticed the… ahem, looks he has been giving you as of late. Hehehe. Reminds me of the way Mario would glance at me when he was thinking about proposing! Who knows? You might have a ring on your finger in a bit!”. The princess giggled as if she recalled a fond memory, presumably of Mario. Wait. What was that?!?!? Does she think Rayman will propose to her?!?!

Peaches’s ears flushed beet red. Oh. OH. That’s the weird looks Rayman’s been giving her meant?!?!? That soft, enchanting look in his eyes… lidded in happiness, face flushed with warmth as his gorgeous brown eyes gazed at her.

Okay!! Nope! Nope! Nope!! Oh, Stars she was too sober to think about that!! Redirect the conversation to kids! Yeah! That’ll be easier to talk about. Maintaining her composure, Rabbid Peach leaned into the table, “Oh wow! Hehe! Awww, thank you! Huh, I wonder what our kids even look like? They’d probably be a hybrid species, I guess.”

To Rabbid Peach’s surprise, her friend gasped in pure excitement. “Oh! I know!! I know!! We could draw some possibilities of what they’d look like! It would be a delightful time!”.

The rabbid then watched as her pregnant counterpart excitedly waddled to the nearest drawer, sifting through her coloring supplies. On the way, the princess rambled about the possibile combinations of what the rabbid and thingamajig species could create. Would they have rabbid ears or no ears? What could their hair look like? Would they be limbless or have limbs? Oh! Maybe half of the limbs would be connected and the other half was not? So on and so forth as she rummaged through the drawers, picking out similar colors to the couple.

Peaches, hung on every word, imagining the possibilities along with her friend. According to her imagination, they’d be so adorable! She was picturing a girl, she’d probably look a lot like Rayman! Maybe with her hair color? Also, wavy, like hers, and have beautiful brown eyes like her father. Oh, she’d be wonderful! As she daydreamed, Peaches got up to grab some papers from the lower shelves, running her paws across fancy pastel and white paper. Hmmm? What papers should they use?

Maybe she could ask Peach? It was her idea, after all. So she began to turn to her friend, papers in paw, presenting them to her playfully. “So…y’wanna use the fancy papers or-”.

“AUGH!!”

A cry of agony erupted from her friend, sharp and sudden. As if it was laced with intense confused shock. Out of concern, Peaches whipped around to see her friend, dropping all the papers she had in her paws if she needed to catch her. What if something happened?!?! Was she hurt?!?

There she saw her dear friend, clutching her stomach. The princess’s teeth were gritted, clutching onto the drawer with her other hand. Then she breathed out a shaky breath, a pained expression on her face as she turned to look at her rabbid counterpart. “I- I’m fine, honey. I think it was just the babies kicking, o- or something.”. The princess raised herself, turning to face her body towards Rabbid Peach to reassure her she was okay. “Whew!! These troublemakers sure gave me a start! Looks like they have the strength of their parents, hmmm?”, she laughed nervously after she spoke.

Then the princess flinched again, sucking in a breath of pain. Her grip slipped off the drawer, causing her to lose her balance. Peaches shouted, “Woah!! Hey, hey, hey!!”, as she dove to her friend’s side. In an instant, Rabbid Peach caught her in her arms, holding her away the ground, making sure her belly did not make contact with the floor. Peach used the rabbid to stabilize herself, lifting herself off her shoulders.

Peaches couldn’t focus on her friend’s frantic mumblings of apologies. She had more things to worry about other than thanks!! Something was wrong with her friend!! Maybe she should get a doctor, one of the royal ones. Yes, that’d be the closest!! Okay, okay, then where should she go to get one? What would be the nearest room to here?

Her mind raced frantically as she helped to keep Peach upright. The fabric of her poofy maternity dress pressed against her fur. To her surprise, she felt a wet sensation against her. It made the fur on her leg damp, an uncomfortable sensation. She turned to look at the spot and-

Oh.

The princess’s water broke.

Oh @#$*.

Peach began to realize too, her breaths quickening with worry. “D-darling, I think that was my water. D- does that mean?”, the princess said shakily, tightly gripping onto the sleeves on Rabbid Peach’s shoulders in an attempt to ground herself. Peaches sucked in a deep breath, yikes, how should she deliver the news? “Okay, be calm, be calm. Casual. Cool about it. You don’t want her to freak out do you?”, Peaches thinks.

“Yeah… hon, I think the- “

The rabbid was cut off by the panic-filled voice of her friend, “The- the babies!! Gasp! They’re coming!! Oh Stars!! Oh Stars!!”. The princess held her friend close to her, awkwardly with her pregnant belly in the way. She held her tight as if she could crush her like a grape. Peaches didn’t know if it was from the pain of her contractions or out of sheer stress. It felt like it was the latter, her breathing becoming more rapid and her voice hoarse with terror.

Gently, Rabbid Peach rubbed her friend’s back, pawing at it in comforting circles. The way her friend had always liked it when the soreness of her pregnancy kicked in. “Hey! Hey…It’s gonna be okay, honey. Just take some breaths with me, like the doctors showed us, alright?”, the Rabbid cooed at her friend. To her relief, Peach followed her command taking a deep, shaky breath before exhaling. The human loosened her strong grip on her friend, clinging to the fabric of her blouse as she pulled away.

“Alright. This is official. The babies will be delivered today since she’s having pretty strong contractions. That’s cool! Unexpected, but we can work with this! Just get her to a safe place. Yeah! A safe spot to relax while you get the doctors, Mario, and all our friends here.”, Rabbid Peach thought, mind running a mile a minute.

This has to go well. She needed it to go well. Anything to ease her friend’s worries. Peaches moved to hold Peach’s hand, a strong, firm, comforting grip. The Princess held it back, continuing her breathing exercises. Her eyes pinched shut, fingers tightening around her friend’s paw. Maybe in an attempt to comfort herself.

Okay. Looks like Peaches will just have to lead her out. That’s okay! We’ve got this. So the Rabbid led her friend slowly out the door, alerting the Rabbid and Toad guards outside the room that the babies were coming.

Quickly, the Rabbid guards scampered off down the hallway, searching for the doctors and spreading the news. Peaches could feel her friend’s hand shaking. She seemed terrified, stumbling awkwardly as she walked. The Toad guards surrounded their princess, keeping her steady along with Peaches after their leader teetered a bit on her feet.

Rabbid Peach could hear the sounds of quiet, repressed sobs coming from her. It broke her heart, to see her friend in so much pain. Sure, she’d helped her counterpart with injuries in battles before. Horrible battles. This time was different though. This time, she couldn’t do anything to help her no magic, no healing, nothing! That thought frustrated her to no end.

Her friend’s tight squeeze on her paw broke her out of her spiraling thoughts. Ugh! Enough thinking about yourself! Think about your friend! Peach! She’s the one that needs help right now, not you! You still can help her! Just calm down, and comfort her dummy!!

“Okay. So the babies are coming. That’s okay! Everything is gonna be okay, hon! Now, just sit back, try to relax, and focus on not having the babies right this second. Got it?”, Peaches reassured her friend, rubbing her hand as they walked towards the delivery room, guards following closely behind. Luckily, it was close, just down the hallway. They just had to make it!! They can do this!

“Y- yeah! We can do this. I just… *phew* really need to sit down!”, Peach replied, teeth gritted in a forced, hopefully less stress-filled smile. Rabbid Peach winced when her friend suddenly squeezed her paw in a bone-breaking grip. Yeouch!! That must’ve been a bad contraction, Stars that hurt!!

Still, the Rabbid held strong for her Princess, biting her lip to prevent any noises of pain from escaping. Peach didn’t need any more stress right now. Slowly, the group led the princess to the delivery room bed, the doctors guided her away good!! That’s perfect! Okay, now what?

A sudden pang of dread hit her.

She was missing something. It was important, but AUGH!! What could it be?!?

…

Oh shoot.

Mario is nowhere near here right now.

=====================================

Mario felt the hot flare of a fireball barely streaking past him as he ducked behind the rubble of the entrance to Bowser’s castle. At least, he thought it missed him until he smelt the burning of his precious hat. Quickly he tore the hat off his head, throwing it to the ground and stomping out the flames in frustration. Oh please, of all the days Bowser had to try to take over the Mushroom Kingdom, of course now was the day! After all these months, now was the time? Seriously?!?!

Taking a breath, Mario accessed his surroundings, he had to make sure the citizens, now his subjects technically, were safe. As the Toads and Rabbids fleed around him, they remained scared, but physically unharmed. No horrid damage to buildings either, at least nothing they couldn’t fix.

So that meant…

Sigh… This was personal. Bowser was always the petty sort after all.

Bowser boomed out in a triumphant cry “HEAR ME CITIZENS OF THE MUSHROOM KINGDOM!! Today is the day, your RIDICULOUS PLUMBER HERO FALLS!!! BOW DOWN TO THE MIGHT OF THE NEW KOOPA-RABBID EMPIRE!! GRAHAHAHA!!”. His hovering clown car teetered loosely under his massive weight, standing a foot on it like a podium as he gloated his so-called victory.

Mario huffed in annoyance at the sound of the clown car’s cannon charging up another blast. Collecting himself, he reached into his satchel, pulling out his old reliable cape. His timing had to be perfect for this to work. And by the stars, he’d make it work.

The canon screeched as the flames charged, the plumber had about five seconds until it fired. He steels his courage as he counted down, blocking out Bowsers taunts being barraged at him. He stood up, concealing his cape behind the rubble so the turtle could not see it. Oh Stars, now its 3 seconds.

2, Mario decides to glare at the King of the Koopas, almost a look of disappointment. To think days like these would be over by now.

1, Bowser grins back at the hero, with a cocky grin. Not that he’d be smiling after this.

NOW!

The canon fired another ginormous ball of fire at him. The plumber could feel the white-hot heat blaring onto his skin. There was no time for fear, only action. So, with a simple flick of his cape, Mario deflected it right back at Bowser.

The ball collided with the Koopa’s vehicle, causing him to be launched straight into the fountain in the center of the plaza they fought in. With a loud crunch, Boswer’s body flung into the Princess Peach statue atop it, splitting it in half. As if in slow motion, his body went limp with defeat, sliding into the shallow waters below, causing waves to splash over the sides of the fountain.

Mario huffed a sigh of victory at the sight, taking in his frenemy’s defeat. While he knew he probably shouldn’t, he always felt a sense of pride one-upping the King before him. It had been months since their last fight, and Mario was pleased that he still had that sense of fight in him.

Dusting off his hands performatively, as if he was taking out the trash, Mario waved to the citizens around him that the fight was over, telling them to return to their daily lives and he and the Princess would make efforts to fix the buildings later. Finally, he took a moment to turn around to glance at Bowser, checking to see if he was alright. Sure, they fought, but he wouldn’t want him to drown or anything if he was unconcious!

What he found, had him holding back a chuckle with a hand. The massive turtle’s snout was just above the water as he laid on his belly, giving the red plumber a frustrated glare. A lily pad with a delicate flower on it was flopped between his horns, like a hat, the water boiling over with steam as fire burned within the Koopa’s body. He looked ridiculous to say the least. Bowser was always a sore loser, especially when it came to losing to Mario.

Bowser trudged through the water with a snort, smoke billowing out of his snout. “I WANT A REMATCH, PLUMBER! THIS ISN’T OVER YET!!”.

Mario smiled smugly, at him. Oh he seemed pissed off! Fine, he was still itching for a fight. Preparing a fighting stance, he braced himself, “Bring it on! I could-a do this all da-!”.

VRRRR VRRR VRRR VRR!!

He could feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Sighing, he held out a hand to Bowser, signaling him to wait. The turtle stopped in his tracks, looking at Mario in confusion.

“You need to take that?”

“Yeah, it’s from Peach.”

“Ah, I gotcha. You guys doing well? How’s the pregnancy going?”

“Good, good! They are doing great. I’ll catch up with you about it sometime, maybe over a game of golf?”

“Sure thing. Can I say hi to her?”

“Mmmmm… yeah. I guess that’s-a okay! I’ll put it on speaker.”

“Cool.”

The odd pair sat down on the crumbling rubble of the fountain, excitedly answering the call. Mario could feel Bowser bump against his side as shimmied in his seat, giddy to talk to Princess Peach.

“Hiya Princess-!“

“WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW MARIO?!?! PEACH IS IN LABOR!!”, the two were met with Rabbid Peach screaming at them.

The smile fell quickly on Mario’s face into a look of sheer horror. Looking over to his frenemy, his eyes went wide in surprise. Standing up, the plumber began to pace with his phone in hand, “Peaches! You can’t-a be serious, she wasn’t supposed to be due until a few weeks!”.

“Well she is now!! Peach needs you, so you better get your A$# over here NOW!!”

“I- Peaches I’m so far away right now!! Is she-a okay?!? Can they try to-a stall it or something? I don’t know!!”

“Yes, she’s okay. Yes, she’s safe. Yes, she’s with the doctors and NO they can’t stall it!! Just- figure something out!! STARS, I need to call the others- oh and Bowser, you get over here too! By-.”

The call cut off before she could even say bye. Mario was filled with dread for his wife. She was going through labor, without him to support her!! They had been planning out what to do about this for months! How could he slip up now, today of all days?!?!

Mario’s breaths began to quicken, feeling his heart beat uncomfortably fast. He needed to get to her- but how?!? How could he get to her all the way across the Mushroom Kingdom?!?!

His panicked thoughts were halted by Bowser’s massive hand on his shoulder. Stoically, the turtle said, “I know how we can get there.”. Picking the plumber up, he faced him towards the fountain, the clown car crashed into the stone pathway of the plaza, propellers still turning.

With a mutual nod of agreement, they raced towards the tattered vehicle.

=====================================

Rabbid Peach paced the hall outside the delivery room’s door. Her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute, feeling her forehead clench with stress.

She called everyone. Luigi, Daisy, all of their friends were coming over, but out of all of them, of course it had to be the father of the babies being delivered right now that was missing!

Another shrill scream of pain erupted from her friend from behind the large door, along with the quiet reassurances of the doctors around the Princess. Rabbid Peach’s fur stood on end at the noise, bristling with worry.

Fine. If Mario wasn’t going to be there for her, she was!! Rabbid Peach shoved open the door, rushing over to her friend’s side. One doctor, a younger Toad, made noises of hesitaton at her action. “Wait! I’m pretty sure only family of the Princess can be here right now! I have to ask you to leave Miss… uh… Miss Rabbid.”

Just as Peaches was about to retort at the doctor, Princess Peach slammed her fist on the table beside her with a loud thump, causing all the people in the room to turn thier heads to her. To Rabbid Peach’s surprise, the Princess was shooting the doctor the nastiest glare she’d ever seen the her give. Clenching her teeth, the Princess spat out, “She IS family and she is STAYING here! That is an order from your Princess.”.

The toad gulped, sheepishly backing away from Peaches to continue tending to his Princess, “Y- Yes, your Majesty! Of course!”.

With a shaky breath, Princess Peach leaned back into the plush pillows of the maternity bed, pain returning to her once again, as if the high of her anger left her fast. It was heartbreaking seeing her friend look so… weak. The pain looked unbearable and Rabbid Peach found herself freezing, unsure of what to do to comfort her. She just wanted to take the pain far away from her friend, her family, but she couldn’t. The pained look of her friend gazing at her cleared away her thoughts.

“I-I can’t do it, Peachy. I can’t do this! I’m not ready. Mario’s not here, a- and- “, the Princess swallowed hard, tears streaming down her face as her lip quivered, weakly, her voice breaking as she whispered sharply, “I’m not ready to be a mother!”.

“I- I’m scared, darling.”, her voice broke as she sobbed weakly, clutching the bed’s railing in her hands. Gently, Peaches reached out to her counterpart, offering to hold her hand. The Princess accepted, gripping onto her paw firmly. A shudder of breath her friend’s body at the soft contact.

“You’re okay, Peach! You’ve got this. Just keep breathing, alright?”

“Okay, okay, huff… okay…”

Peaches didn’t know what caused it. Maybe it was the… strangely familiar look of pain and desperation in her friend’s voice. It was as if something snapped in, like a puzzle piece long missing fit perfectly into her brain.

She was flooded with memories. Her old colony, the warm, sweet smell of the Glade’s air. The soft touch of her mother’s paw as she walked alongside her. The rough texture of concrete against her feet as the colony met their new home. The smell of a once favorite food, far far away from this dimension.

Her sister’s sweet face as she held her kits for the first time.

Their proud smiles as she waved goodbye to them before entering that ever fateful washing machine.

It was weird how fast she acted. As if her body and mind were running on instinct. As if this situation was familiar, welcome, something that she had done once before. Many times before.

It was like, she couldn’t even think anymore. Just react. So she held the Princess’s hand soothingly, and spoke softly, at least, as soft as her normally harsh voice could manage.

“Hey, y’ wanna know why I knew so much about pregnancies?”

“W- Why?”

“Back in my old colony, my old home, I used to help Rabbids give birth. My mom, er- at least I think it was my mom, passed the position to me. So you’re in some really good hands right now!”

“Y-you actually remember that?”

“Bits and pieces sometimes, but all of the kits were super cute! You should’ve seen them, hon. They were real fuzzy, making such cute noises. Like yours will be soon!”

“Haha…hopefully not the fuzzy part…”

“Bwahaha! No, no, not the fuzzy part. Y’get what I mean though, right?”

“Mhm.”

“T- they’re called kits? Rabbids call their babies that?”

“Yup! Like little cute kittens.”

“Hehe! That’s…whew, that’s wonderful knowledge to have.”

“Adorable, huh?”

“Y- yeah. It is.”

“Y’know the cutest ones were when my nieces were born. Did I ever tell you I had a sister? I don’t know if I did.”

“N- no! You didn’t. C- can you tell me what she was like?”

“She was strong, like you. Her labor was tough, but she was tougher. Had a litter of six if I remember correctly! They were beautiful.”

“When she met them… h- how did she react?”

“It was the happiest I’d ever seen her. Her and her mate holding their kits. I was really happy for them. Proud. Like I’m proud of you now!”

“They’ll be beautiful, Peach. I just know it.”

“Thank you… Peaches.”

CRASHHHH!!!

An explosion at the other side of the door. In an instant, Peaches stood protectively infront of her friend, trying to shield her from any intruders that might come her way. It felt as if the world went silent as everyone stared in shock at the door. The door slowly creaked open revealing…

Mario and Bowser?!??!?

The pair stumbled out from behind the door, covered in tiny bits of rubble, dirt, and ash from seemingly an explosion, the creaking of the broken propellers on Bowser’s totaled clown car behind them. Mario and Peach stared at eachother, eyes glimmering with relief as their faces filled out with giddy love upon finding eachother again. Mario rushed to his wife’s side. The Princess pulled him into a hug, covering his chubby face with kisses.

“Where have you been my love? The babies are coming you know!!”

Mario turned to look back towards Bowser, who kicked a piece a rubble and looked awkwardly away from the couple. “I… had a bit of a fight with Bowser. He gave me a ride here though!”. The plumber gave his wife a thumbs up and a chuckle, as if that would try to make the situation better.

Rabbid Peach couldn’t help but stare dumbfoundedly at the massive turtle, as soon as Bowser met her gaze, he quickly looked away, seeming ashamed.

Softly, the Princess raised her voice, “Thank you, Bowser, for bringing my husband here. It really means a lot to me…”. It seemed genuine and sweet, as she stared up at Bowser with gratitude. The Koopa King blushed slightly and turned away her gaze, smoke billowing out of his nose.

“It was no problem, Princess…”, Bowser mumbled as he walked away from the pair, leaving the room.

The labor continued, Mario and Rabbid Peach supporting Princess Peach through every push. Everything was going well, she was in pain, but calming down. Baby A slipped out without any more problems. Peaches caught a glimpse of how happy Mario looked as he held his son in his arms. Joyful tears dripped onto the cloth the baby was swaddled in. Okay, first one done. Now, it was time to fight through Baby B’s delivery.

Without Mario to hold his wife’s hand, the Princess chose to tighten her grip on her Rabbid friend’s paw. It felt like her bones could crack from the tension. It took everything in her not to flinch in pain in her grasp, her expression fighting to remain cool and collected. Surely the Princess was going through worse, so she chose to toughen it out.

“One last push Princess!! Baby B is almost out. Keep pushing!!”

With one last push and scream of effort from the Princess, the second baby was out. It was over. They did it!! They actually did it!!

Relief overcame everyone in the room at the sound of the final baby’s cries. It was a beautiful baby girl. Gently, the young Toad doctor carried the infant to place into her mother’s arms. After swaddling up the baby in a pink, decorated blanket Peach and Peaches made, the princess cradled her baby in her arms. Happy tears streaming down her face.

The first baby, the boy, was also handed to her by Mario, now wrapped in a green blanket Peaches had made, little stitchings of powerups decorating it. Everyone in the room was sobbing, especially Mario, mustache drenched in his tears. His teary, puffy, immensely happy expression made his wife giggle at him.

With a nod to Mario, Rabbid Peach and Mario went to hug Princess Peach, taking in this sweet, priceless moment with her.

=====================================

After a beat of silence, Peaches spoke up, asking “So, what are you guys gonna name them?”.

With a relaxed sigh, Princess Peach responded, “For the boy…we decided on Lu. Heh, after Luigi, of course. For the girl, well…”. The Princess paused, smiling warmly, as if she was thinking about a cherished memory.

Looking back at her friend, Princess Peach finished her sentence, with the biggest smile on her face the Rabbid had ever seen, “Peaches. Peaches for the girl. That will be her name.”.

Rabbid Peach was taken aback. Peaches? No way. She must’ve misheard. The stress of the day weighing on her must be making her brain all foggy. They wouldn’t do that, would they? That’s her name! That’d be stupid. Having another Peaches around.

Wait…. Aha! That’s it!

“Ohhhh! Like Peach Jr., right?”

Mario chuckled, before gesturing with a hand toward Rabbid Peach, “No. She means Peaches. Like-a you.”.

“P- Peaches?!? Y- you’re gonna make this so confusing, hon. I’m already Peaches. Like, we all agreed on this.”

With an unladylike snort, the Princess replied with pride, “I know that, darling.”.

“Uh, yeah! Of course you know that. Then why-.”

Mario scoffed, cutting off the Rabbid’s rebuttal. How rude!! You know I’m right!! Peaches? Seriously?!? There’s already two people with the same name here! It was so much of a problem, they had to do nicknames to differentiate them! Peaches is her name! She claimed it!! So why was she going to name-

Wait.

WAIT A SECOND!!

Her quick dose of anger was extinguished. Not a trace left of fire within her. Only a mixture of confusion, shock, and a hint of the warm embrace of happiness. She was touched. Tears pricking at her eyes as her face scrunched up, ugly with raw emotion.

After a gross sniffle, Peaches choked out, “You- You guys wanna name your daughter after me? Seriously? Like, for real?”.

Peaches stood there, dumbfounded, looking at her friends. They smiled warmly at her, eyes puffy from their crying. The soft coos of their babies as they snuggled up in their mother’s arms. Their names, Lu and… Peaches.

Named… after her.

Tears began welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. Her ears felt like they were on fire, overwhelmed with all the emotions she felt. She felt her face tense into what she was sure to be the ugliest form it could ever manage as the hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

The shock was just too much.

They were looking at her! Staring at her warmly with those stupid, genuine smiles on their faces!

She had to say something!!

“S- SHUT THE F@%# UP!! NO YOU GUYS AREN’T!!”

Laughter erupted from the couple along with the startled cries of their children at the loud noises. “P- Peaches! Dearie, do not curse in front of the babies!!”, Princess Peach said in between harsh laughter. She soothed her babies in a rocking motion, the biggest smile on her face.

From there, Rabbid Peach absolutely bawled her eyes out. The entirety of the heroes were slowly invited in, one at a time. She’ll never forget how much Bowser sobbed at the sight. Not with bitterness, like she expected, but pure happiness for the couple. Peaches left the room eventually, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders as soon as she began to exit, waving one last goodbye to the happy couple.

The Rabbid had no clue what overcame her in that room. The memories she had recovered were already blurry and fading fast. Though, whatever that was, she was thankful to relive them, even for just a moment. At least she knew at least a little bit about what her life, her family was like.

It felt like a huge weight was lifted off her shoulders. Letting out a satisfied sigh. Ah, she supposed it’s fine. The past is in the past and sides’-

Her family is here already. And, that’s enough, right?

Still, she was exhausted. It had already been a long day without the chaos of Peach’s sudden delivery. Peaches got there early in the morning to accompany her friend on her daily stroll, like she always did. Every day for almost nine months.

Nine whole months, huh? Wow. Time seemed to fly by so fast.

Y’know… now that this is over, she might actually miss this. Spending this much time with the Princess on the regular. The two learned a lot about each other over the pregnancy, good and bad. She wouldn’t trade that time she spent for anything. There were no regrets.

Rabbid Peach breathed out a sigh of relief as she finally was able to exit the delivery room. She felt so drained from the stress and craved even a second just to relax. To her surprise, her boyfriend Rayman was waiting outside the door, a goofy smile on his face, a cup of her favorite coffee in hand. “Hey, Peachy. Long day, huh? I got you your favorite coffee from the city!”.

“Oh you have no, idea.”, Peaches chuckled. The rabbid fell into his chest, taking in the familiarity of his smell. Pfft! Was he using her shampoo? Ah well, it smelled nice.

“Thanks hon.”, Peaches planted a tender kiss on his lips, pulling him close. He tasted sweet, a hint of caramel perhaps. Hm, I guess he might’ve gotten something at the coffee shop too. For a while, she held the kiss, pulling away as she delicately snatched the coffee out of his hand. She couldn’t help but giggle looking up at him, that dumb, lovestruck look on his face. “I missed you, Ray. Thanks for stopping by to pick me up.”.

“Heh! It’s uh- hehe… It’s no problem! I missed you too, sunshine.”, Rayman replied shyly, scratching a hand through his hair awkwardly. The poor guy had always felt shy about doing sappy stuff, but Peaches was proud to see it. He was trying his best and she found it adorable to she his flustered face every time she made a move towards him.

From there, they walked home towards the portal that would take them back to the Space Opera Network’s planet. From there, they could finally head home. Peaches was sure to pass out the moment she touched the bed they shared at thier apartment. As they quietly took in the gorgeous night sky among the beautiful scenery of the castle’s gardens, Rayman decided to strike up conversation again.

“Is the Princess okay?”

“Yeah. She’s okay. Just a stressful day is all. Better to leave them alone for now.”

“Wanna go get some takeout on the way home?”

“Oh you know I’d love to.”

Rayman bumped into her side playfully as they walked together, whisking a hand over to her waist to pull her closer to him. She leaned on him, cherishing the warmth of his hand and the plush softness of his hoodie. Being with him felt like home. He was perfect.

She… wanted to spend the rest of her life with this… beautifully goofy man. Raise a family with him. So, why not ask the question now?

“Hey, Ray?”

“Hm?”

“What do you think about… starting a family someday?”

[thisbelongsto-nohbodys]

👑 With the Calamity Children, please? I can see a fanfic idea out of that...

The Swordswoman Princess-Heir, the Bard Prince and the Genius Artificer lil’ Princess

[madamejenjennette]

Princess 1985👑 Decided to fuse her with my AU Peach for the fun of it❤️ If that sounds curious enough I have a Tumblr for it at, @jenjennette-fanfic-au

[houseofthelilypads]

Shrek Princesses Rewrite Edition 🐸👑🍎👡😴💇

Based on my own headcanons & plans for their roles in my rewrite of Shrek 3. Because if I can redeem Artie and Charming then the ladies deserve that same chance!!

AND DORIS TOO >:[

Fiona

Had a private tutor during her time at the tower

When food wasn't available she took to eating lava bread and smoked rats and bugs

Is heat resistant

She did venture out the tower when dragon was away

Studied martial arts through books and watching on the magic mirror

Her friends often stopped by to visit her, but as they got settled in adult lives grew too busy

Fiona loves kids and hopes to give her own children a childhood she never had

Does carry some resentment towards her parents she only vents in private tho

She can sing but on a normal range. Any higher it well... The bird scene in the first film

She loves swimming and water activities partly due to being surrounded by lava half of her life

Her favorite colors are green and blue they remind her of nature and to her, nature = freedom

Has bleached her hair a few times

She makes mud based beauty products and sell them on the side

Still listens to Sir Justin's music and has been to his concert

Knows of Artie's existence; they bond a lot over their parental issues

Fiona mentors artie how to defend himself, he has some proficiency in martial arts

Inherited her red hair from her grandmother

The reason Fiona was an ogre is partly due to her father being the Frog prince and guess where frogs live?

It's also believed that one of fiona's ancestors actually married an ogre but VERY long ago; the curse just brought out her genes

Fiona loves to stargaze; she also collected obsidian and volcanic rock

Sleeping Beauty

Is in a long distance relationship with the Sandman

Her dress is green because that's the color her disney counterpart never wears

Is the last one to arrive at a ball and the first one to leave

She has beds in every room but is usually found sleeping on the floor

Doesn't want children because she's too exhausted and fears any potential kids might inherit her condition

She actually understands Fiona dating someone who isn't human nor royalty, she dates the freaking god of SLEEP

Has the most patience with Snow because she sleeps through her nonsense anyways

Just like the video game adaptation of the third movie, she has the power to summon an army

Was the most hurt by Rapunzel's betrayal, they were the closest due to their similar backstories and lack of a biological family

Rapunzel

Used to date another prince but he never came back to her tower so she eventually rescued herself. This is why she latched on to Charming in canon (and Bruce in my fanfic)

After getting charged with treason Rapunzel is made to serve community service. She hates it but considers it better than exile

She wears gold to match her hair

She owns a lot of wigs after suffering loss of her real hair (which she shaved off).

Cinderella

Cleans her own home

Lives in a smaller house compared to the rest

The others tease her for it but understands it's to make it easier for her to clean; having spent her whole childhood cleaning a giant estate

Is a master at blacksmithing and glassblowing; what she didn't JUST clean her home she had to do repairs too

Carries some cleaning supplies

Is VERY careful in leaving crumbs

Dislikes rats and cockroaches; she has a cat named Chandelier for this reason (my twist on Disney's Cinderella)

Is working to unlearn her people pleasing

has a better relationship with her stepsisters as adults

Her prince suffers from face blindness and as such gets her confused with other ladies. He even mistook Shrek for her

She doesn't mind kids but she rather work on reconciling with her stepfamily and heal from the abuse than pass down any baggage

The third strongest princess due to years of heavy lifting

Had the closest relationship with Fairy Godmother; was even considered a potential suitor for Charming but Cindy didn't like his vanity and immaturity.

When Cindy finds out about their plan to break up Fiona's marriage she is saddened but not surprised given Charming's past behavior

Snow White

She's my least favorite but I can explain why she acts like that

Developed an Ice Queen persona to protect herself

Living with seven bachelors rubbed off on her

Love rock music

Trained her animals to fight; found the larger animals surprisingly easier to tame

There's another Snow White but she is younger and has white hair.

If she ever sees her MGA doll irl she would be impressed that it's the only doll that managed to stay the most accurate to how she looks. She'd cut the hair

Does feel a little guilty for her mean girl attitude especially after it pushed Rapunzel away so post canon she works to be a little nicer

Her prince is actually the huntsman sent to kill her; he disguised himself as one to warn her of the evil queen

Still visits the dwarves time to time and even lets them live with her

Doris

Chose to reconcile with Cinderella after taking a good long hard look at herself

Is the girly girl of them all

The first thing she brought with her first paycheck was a purple dress, she couldn't afford the color after losing her home

Doesn't like to talk about her mother

After Fiona she is the 2nd physically strongest Princess

Knows every beauty trick in the book, every ingredient, foundation shade, even which brand of Lead

Shaves her legs using a sugar and lemon wax method, she doesn't use razors

She knows my OC Gwynn from when Gwynn was a teenager first arriving at the Poison Apple

She still has a crush on Charming, but tones it down after he starts dating Gwynn

Her friction with Mabel started after Doris expressed desire to make up wth Cindy, Mabel didn't see what they had to apologize for.

After Shrek 3 Doris works at the Candy Apple, which is an extension of the Poison Apple but FOR KIDS

[ladylamrian]

Hii 🥰

I saw this and thought pink 🩷 You can use the quote / pic in whichever way you want 🩷

Loyal to be Royal 👑

Female Main Character: Alex

Pairing: can be considered as F!MC×NikRyder or F!MC×Garrus, the fae

Summary: Alex feels the pressure of royal life

Word Count: 1.9K words

Rating: General

Warnings: none

-> My complete Nightbound Masterlist <-

A Garrus (fae) fanfic for @teatimemols 🧝🏻‍♂️🧚🏼‍♀️

Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @peonierose ; @secretaryunpaid ; @jdstar88 ; @blackcatkita ; @lilyoffandoms ; @liviusofpella ; @mxdanni ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @tessa-liam ; @choicesficwriterscreations ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @rosepetals1 ; @choicesjanuary2024 (Prompt: Relationships)

Some parts beta-read by @peonierose

Thanks @lilyoffandoms for ideas of this prompt

Comments via Reblog wholeheartly welcome

Author's note: Part of Song Lyrics taken and rewritten from Barbie - The Princess & the Pauper 🩷👑

"Hey guys, I'm back.", Alex tiredly spoke as she finally entered Garrus his bar, the Graveyard Shift from the side-door. Krom, Ivy, Nik and Garrus were seated on stools and enjoying their drinks.

"Hey, Alex!! You look exhausted. Everything alright?", Nik asked her with a concerned look on his face as she plopped on an empty stool next to him and rested her head on the wooden table.

"Tired.", she wispered.

"Tired? Awww, poor thing. Did you faes partied hard at the palace or what?", Ivy giggled and gently rubbed her friend's back.

To answer her question, Alex sat upright and faced her friends with a sad expression. "Ivy, that's not it. I'm so tired of all those many rules. I'll never be a perfect royal. All I do is make mistakes. I... I just want to make Thalissa and everyone proud, but I can't. I wish just father was alive. He would have definitly helped me."

"Rook, you're still learning. I know you will be doing well. I just want to say... We... We haven't seen you for days and... well...".

"What we all want to say is that we missed you, Alex."

"I know, Krom. I missed you all too. Sorry, but beeing royalty isn't exactly a piece of cake. I thought it's not going to be difficult and I'll enjoy this wealthy life, but I guess I didn't know what was coming for me. It's so stressful, especially when Lamrian has currently no ruler sitting on it's throne. So it's up to me to handle everything."

"Do you even want this royal life, rook? Can you handle this or...?"

"Oh baby, I could build a castle out of all the bricks they threw at me.", she confidently answered him and winked.

"Oh really?", he raised an eyebrow.

"Nik, I somehow have to. For my father, Lord Elric. I'm alive only because of him and Lamrian is my home. I don't want to disappoint him. I have a duty to fulfill... just like you have, Nik.", she glanced meaningful at him and got serious now.

Yes, what has to be done, must be done. Just like the young nighthunter, Nik Ryder swored after the death of his adopted father to protect everyone from evil and keep the worlds safe.

"Yeah, guess so... I just thought about your well-beeing.", Nik disappointedly looked away, trying to avoid her gaze.

"I know, but I have to prove myself. Some fae nobles are just... Arrrghh!!! Rules, rules and more rules.", she wanted to scream and let her frustrations just out.

"I sadly know what you mean, darling. I've been there too.", Garrus gently smiled at her and layed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Honestly, I feel hopeless actually. They haven't even considered me as Elric's child yet, as the heir of Lamrian, a member of the royal fae court... I'm no fae for them, just an outsider who's responsible for my father's dea..."

"Don't you dare to say that!!", Garrus suddenly bursted out his anger which surprised everyone since it's not his nature.

"Uhhh, Garrus? You okay?"

"I... I... I'm sorry. My apologies for the sudden tone and behavior. But... My fellow fae friend, don't you ever dare to blame yourself for anything. You're innocent and not responsibile for anything. Neither for the death of my duke nor the banishment of young Lord Tialo. Some fae nobles are just like that and they won't change their behavior, so do not allow them treat you like this. They think they're just better than others. Trust me, I've been there too once and I feel you. Of not beeing accepted and..."

Garrus was the heir of a Fae viscount before the Fae cast him out. The friendly fae remained exiled until this day. He was banished for running cons and swindling magic off the upper crust. The Fae court was too uptight for him and he needed his freedom. But until today, still dreaming of returning to the Fae kingdom. His true home.

Garrus lowered his head, remaining silent for a moment in front of his friends who worriedly glanced at his sad expression. It took a few seconds, before the handsome fae snapped out of his thoughts and focused back on his loyal companions.

"I was thinking. My dear Alex, let me help you. Guide you and teach you about the royal life of a fae. Let's show them what we got, darling."

"You would do that? Are you sure?"

"I'll show you, m'lady. But I'll teach you in my style. Some music, please!", Garrus requested and Krom immediately did what he asked. A beautiful, classical melody began to play. Garrus began to sing and dance. Taking Alex her hands in his and twirling around the room as if they were dancing waltz in a dance hall. While dancing he began to demonstrate whatever he was singing whether using his acting skills, body language or showing her something. He started by picking up a silver spoon from a plate.

🎶 To be a royal is to know which spoon to use.

To be a royal is a thousand pairs of shoes.

To maintain a regal gait.

Leave the parsley on your plate.

And be charming but detached, yet amused 🎶

"Wohoooo, Garrus!!!", Ivy excitely cheered and began to whistle.

🎶 To be a royal is to never be confused

Do a plié and never fall

Don't ever stray from protocol

All through the day, there's just one way you must behave

Do keep a grip and never crack

Stiff upper lip and arch the back

Bend from above and always wear your crown and wave

Shoulders back and

Tummy in and

Pinky out and

Lift the chin and

Slowly turn the head from side to side 🎶", he sang while Alex did what he musically requested.

"Like this?"

"Dear, you're Fae-tastic!"

"We're Fae-tastic."

Soon Garrus signaled Krom to turn off the music. The song might be over but there was still a lot to teach.

"That dance was amazing, Garrus."

"Thanks, now listen!! From the way you eat to the way you walk, here's what it takes to have the manners of a royal.", Garrus proudly handed Alex a very big binder over.

"Ooof, it's... really heavy. But you will help me, right?"

"Of course, teaching you about the life among the royal court of the fae is also important. Don't worry that's very simple. Are you up for the task or is that too much for the beginning, darling?"

"I'm ready, Garrus. Challenge accepted!!", she winked.

"First thing, the royal curtsies. They don't need to reach the floor, simply put one leg behind the other, bend your knees, and bow your head slightly. However, deeper curtsies and long pauses are a sign of respect and formality."

Alex does as her fae-friends explained and put one leg behind the other, bend your knees, and bow your head slightly.

"Pfff, that's easy."

"I like your spirit, dear.", he smiled and placed a plate infront of Alex and requested her to take a seat at the table.

"You may not put much thought into how you cut your food, but those nobles take dining etiquette very seriously."

"I know how to eat properly. I'm a grown-up and not a toddler."

She held the knive in the right hand, the fork in the left with the tines facing down and stabbing the food. Then she brought it to the mouth.

"Instead of stabbing the food, balance food on back of the fork, then bring it to the mouth."

"Is it that important, Garrus? I mean, at least I don't mess up my clothes or my face while having a meal. "

"You're right, dear. I don't care either, but... the other faes."

"I know...", she sighted.

"Look, if royals need to use the restroom during a meal, they don't announce their intentions. They simply say, "Excuse me," and leave it at that. If they're not done eating, they cross the utensils so wait staff know not to take the plate. When finished with the meal, they place utensils at an angle, putting the handles at the bottom right of the plate."

Alex took the fork and knife in her hand and started to place them correctly on the plate.

"Wait, you mean that angle?"

"Like 4:20 on a clock you mortals use."

"Hah, I got it! I'm good at this, right? Show me more, Garrus."

"You're a natural, dear. Now let me think what else you might... Ahhh, yes. Now I know. They say your handshake reveals a lot about your personality. Keep direct eye contact with the fae in front of you, grasp their hand firmly but not painfully, shake for one or two pumps (no more!), and shine a royal smile."

"Why two pumps and not more?"

"Yeah, why two? Good question, Alex. Why only two, Garrus? What if I want to give four?", Ivy asked too.

"Wouldn't four be too much.", Krom asked worriedly.

"Yeah Garrus, why two?"

"Quiet, please!! I'm trying to give lectures to Alex. I actually don't know either. Hmmm, let's skip that. Alex, they say that men in the royal family put out a helping hand when their spouses go down a flight of stairs, especially at formal events. The women keep their chins parallel to the ground and hands at their sides. If there's a banister, they rest a hand on it, rather than grab it and keep their toes pointed toward the railing while they walk."

"I know, I know, it's just like in the movies. But this royalty here doesn't need the helping hand of a man, I can do this on my own.", she confidently answered.

"Your spirit is admirable. Another point, royalty are expected to be addressed by their full, given names rather than nicknames given to them by their families and friends. Sooooo...", Garrus nervously glanced at Nik who immediately understood.

"Are you tryin' to tell me something, Garrus? Nobody has a problem if I give Alex nicknames. It's my style, right rook?"

"Uhhhhh... riiiiiiiight, blondie.", Alex rolled her eyes and grinned after giving the blond haired guy a new nickname. It's sure fun.

"Don't call me like that, rook."

"Alright, blondie. Oh, I... I mean, Nik. So Garrus, what's next?", she tried not to laugh and turned her attention back to the young fae.

"Alex, you did well. These are enough lessons for the first day, we'll continue tomorrow. Time to open the Graveyard Shift and letting the customers in.", Garrus suggested while taking out his keys to open his bar. As he was headed towards the front door, Alex stopped him by resting her arm on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I... Thank you, Garrus. For helping me, teaching me. For everything."

"I would do anything for my favorite fae."

"I know, but still. Thanks! And I'll promise you that one day, I'll make sure that your banishment will be lifted. I'm aware of how much you miss your home, Garrus. Soon you'll be free again, I promise."

"Thank you, Lady Alex."

"Please, no formalities. You're my friend. Even when I become a duchess one day, I would never want my friends to call me like this. Without any title, please. Just Alex is fine.", she smiled at him.

[baileypie-writes]

Okay so male reader helping the go princess precure team fight a monster of the week

Male reader is a blue wearing motorcycling idol and he runs the dang thing over with his motorcycle.

A/N ~ Sure! Hope you enjoy!

~Hero on Two Wheels~

Go! Princess Pretty Cure + Male!Motorcycling Idol!Reader

~~~👑~~~👑~~~👑~~~

Fandom: Go! Princess Pretty Cure

Fanfic Type: Oneshot

Reader: Male, motorcycling idol

Relationship: Platonic

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Word Count: 1,306

Synopsis: When the Pretty Cure were being beaten in a battle, they were unexpectedly saved by a man on a motorcycle.

Warnings: Very strange and unrealistic conversation between Reader and the Pretty Cure

~Masterlists~

~Go! Princess Pretty Cure Masterlist~

~~~👑~~~👑~~~👑~~~

The Pretty Cure had only recently reformed Towa Akagi, the princess of the Hope Kingdom. And since then, she’s become a part of their team as Cure Scarlet. So, as her teammates, they began teaching her about being a Pretty Cure. They taught her things like fighting in sync with one another and what to expect with the bad guys.

But no matter how much they prepared her, something unexpected is always bound to happen every once in a while. And even then, nobody expected what would happen when a certain motorcyclist got caught up in a battle.

~~~~

All four girls’ transformations were complete, leaving the Pretty Cure ready to fight. The Zetsuborg, which was in the form of a sandbox, wreaked havoc and destruction in the center of town. So they got to work quick.

“So we’ll want to attack from different angles all at once.” Cure Mermaid communicated to Cure Scarlet. “So you go there, and I’ll go there. Flora, Twinkle, you know where to go.”

“Right.” The rest of the girls confirmed in perfect unison; proof at how in sync they already were.

With all four Pretty Cure at evenly spaced points, they bent their knees, preparing to attack. “Now!” Flora shouted. Putting all pressure at their toes, they all launched themselves at the Zetsuborg.

But it seemed that the Zetsuborg knew of their plan. Using its arms, it blocked their attack, and sent them flying.

~(Meanwhile)~

It all happened so fast. Just a moment ago, a crowd of people gathered around you, admiring you and your motorcycle. You were enjoying the attention, but all of a sudden, loud crashes were heard from a distance. Following that, people from the direction of the sounds came running and screaming.

It didn’t take long to find what the source of the commotion was. It was some sort of sandbox monster. Stuff like that had been happening lately, so you weren’t too surprised. But still, it interrupted your moment of glory, so you weren’t happy.

After revving the engine a few times, you sped to the direction of the monster. It was difficult, since you had to dodge the many people running the opposite way.

As you got closer, you saw four younger girls trying to hit the creature. They weren’t being successful at all. It was dodging and blocking all of their attacks. And as time went on, the girls were getting more and more tired and scratched up. That’s how you knew it was a good time to ride in.

You took a shortcut through an alleyway, stopping halfway through to get a good look. You had a clear view of the monster, as well as a clear path. Nearby, there was a pile of debris. Immediately, you knew it would make for a pretty good ramp.

Lifting the front wheel of your motorcycle into the air, you revved the engine, and let the wheel speed up. After it was going fast, you dropped the wheel back onto the ground, and you sped forward.

You went for the makeshift ramp, speeding up as you got closer. After riding up, it launched you high up into the air. This caught the attention of the Pretty Cure, who were now lying on the ground, seemingly defeated.

“Woah…” Flora admired, watching you and your motorcycle block out the sun. Its rays shone brightly behind you, giving your ride a cool, almost angelic glow. “Who is that?”

“I’m not sure. But I’m concerned about what he’s doing.” Mermaid said.

After reaching the highest point, you started descending towards the monster. Luckily, it didn’t seem to notice until you were falling so quickly, that it was too late.

The wheels of your motorcycle landed right on the surface of the sand. You revved the engine a few more times, and the quick spinning of the wheel spewed sand behind you. You rode straight ahead, leaving a trail of deep tire marks.

The monster cried out, and began losing its balance. But you managed to stay steady until you successfully rode all the way across the sandbox, and landed safely back on the ground. Just moments after, the monster fell, spilling sand everywhere.

All four Pretty Cure were in complete shock at what just happened. Their eyes kept flickering between you and the Zetsuborg, almost as if to make sure that it was in fact you who had done this.

“Now’s our chance!” Flora said, regaining her focus.

You watched from your motorcycle as the girls did a final power move, defeating the enemy. You weren’t even that surprised at that point, considering what had just occurred.

Afterwards, Cure Flora went over to a woman in a cage, who you had only just noticed. Using her Dress-Up Key, she unlocked it, setting her free. You watched as she ran away, holding the woman in her arms. At that point, the other three girls had made their way over to you.

Mermaid cleared her throat awkwardly. “We just wanted to express our gratitude.”

“Yes.” Scarlet chimed in. “We were having quite a bit of trouble before you came in.”

Just then, Flora has returned without the woman. You assumed she had gotten her to safety. She gave you a kind smile, letting you know that she was also grateful.

“Um, excuse me. But do you happen to be (full name)?” Cure Twinkle asked.

“Yes.” You replied, happy to find that one of the princess super heroes knew who you were.

“Wait, you know him?” Flora asked, shocked.

“Yes. He’s a pretty famous motorcyclist. I’ve seen him in some magazines” She explained.

“Hold on,” Cure Mermaid interrupted. “we’re getting off topic here.” She turned back to you, a serious expression on her face. “What you did was very reckless and dangerous. So while we thank you for your help, we ask that you don’t do something like that again.”

You chuckled. “‘Mermaid’ was it?” You asked, clarifying her name. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m always doing dangerous stunts like these. It’s kinda my thing.”

An idea struck you at that moment. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out four tickets. “Here. These are tickets to a motorcycling show I’m gonna be in. You can see more of what I do there. These are extras that I give to cool people. And you guys seem pretty cool. So feel free to stop by.”

“Oh! Uh, thanks!” Cure Flora said, taking the tickets.

“No problem. Later.” And with that, you sped off.

“Well. He was certainly something.” Said Twinkle.

“Yeah. He gave us these despite not knowing a thing about us. He didn’t even question who we were.” Mermaid evaluated.

“I’m curious as to what that show is like. I had no idea what a ‘motorcycle’ was until just now. And that man was certainly impressive with his. So I think I’d like to see more.” Scarlet said.

“Oh, really? Well I don’t see why we can’t go to the show. Just as long as we get permission.” Twinkle said.

“Motorcycles, huh? It’s not really a princess thing. But it’s kind of like riding a horse, right?” Flora mentioned.

“Uh no, not really.” Twinkle chuckled. “But anyways, I think it’ll be interesting!”

“Yes. After all, it would be the polite thing to do. He did save us.” Mermaid added.

“Yeah.” The others agreed.

So the Princess Pretty Cure decided to go to your show. None of them would’ve expected to do that. But they also didn’t expect to be saved by a man on a motorcycle. So they figured that trying something different wouldn’t hurt them.

And while Towa didn’t learn anything about being a Pretty Cure that day, she did learn about a cool vehicle. Definitely not super useful information, but it helped her understand the world a little better.

~~~👑~~~👑~~~👑~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[aemcroberts]

🌙✨ Dark Kingdom: Shattered Moonlight — New Chapters Are LIVE! ✨🌙

Hey Moonies! 💫 Ready for the emotional rollercoaster that is Cracks in Fate (Chapter 31) and The Final Eclipse (Chapter 32)? Because trust me, Kunzite and Endymion are about to take you through ALL the feels.

In Cracks in Fate, Kunzite’s brooding reaches epic levels. 😳 He's got shadows clinging to him, the weight of his past mistakes pressing down, and maybe… just maybe… a flicker of old love for Venus that refuses to die. 💔 Will he break free, or is he too far gone in darkness? 🖤

Then, in The Final Eclipse, Endymion is a beautiful, broken mess—lost in the shadows, detached from his very soul. 🖤 Beryl has him in her grasp, and oh, the tension! 😱 Will he really do what she asks and kill Princess Serenity?! 🤯 There’s so much at stake, and it’s all falling apart (or coming together? 👀).

Catch these new chapters of Dark Kingdom: Shattered Moonlight, written by yours truly, AE McRoberts, now live on Archive of Our Own, Wattpad, and Fanfiction.net! 🌸✨ Don’t miss out on the angst, the drama, and the grovel-worthy moments! 😏👑

[dj4jungshook]

Komaru’s reaction to Makoto becoming a king after marrying Sonia. She’s the aunt of a prince or princess.

After Makoto marries Sonia and becomes king of Novoselic. and he also became father of a beautiful child. the little prince Lucas Naegi Nevermind. Komaru was happy enough for his older brother. even if she keeps teasing him for how Sonia calls him a fiery lion, or for his man's heels otherwise he's always happy to spend time with his brother and nephew. And for the girls who are still in love with the egg, Sonia's proposal is always valid. if they want to become his mistresses! except for two people in particular. (if you've read the fanfic Everyday Life with Ultimate Girls then you understand it.)

🦁👑

[boltonbritreads]

ok I finished reading this at like 2am and had to reblog but could not keep my eyes open anymore. I fully completely totally LOVED THIS so so so so so So sO SO much. The world building was so strong and I could picture this medieval castle and knight Eddie so well I was fully engrossed in the world within like one paragraph. I loved the dynamic between Ser Eddie and Princess reader and the slow burn you could sense bubbling in the background.

I was literally like 2/3 of the way through and my phone died and I gasped and went “No!!” because I was so deep into I hadn’t even noticed my phone was on 1%. I loved this reader and how strong-willed she was and how we see the hints of Eddie’s admiration peppered throughout and when they finally get together 😮‍💨 I’m gonna need to re-read that final third when I’m back home again cause…yeah. This story sent my mind off in a hundred directions daydreaming about all the little moments these two have had over the years and it’s a special fic when it makes me want to write fanfic of the fanfic ♥️♥️👑🗡️♥️♥️

saturn return | eddie munson

hello! I'm back :) will leave a little author note at the end of the fic for u. but in the meantime: enjoy this medieval slow burn fluffy smutty monster of a fic (which has not been proofread because I am so tired) <3

in short: you're from royalty, and the illicit crush you're harbouring on your sworn protector is threatened when your father, the king, reaches the end of his tether and finally begins the search for your husband.

medieval/fastasy au with knight!Eddie and fem!princess!reader, smut (18+ only, minors dni!), implied virgin!reader, (one attempted) assault, general fluff and angst and fun fantasy frolicking, mention/threat of arranged marriage (brief), enemies to lovers if you squint but mostly a bodyguard au but he wears armour and you live in a castle.

14k words (!!!)

-

You had only seen your knight without his cuffs and cloak once before in your life.

When you were nineteen, you had a fling with one of the boys who tends the horses in the stables. It had been a wet summer and against your father’s wishes you’d spent many evenings returning to the castle sodden and smiling. Your afternoons were adventurous - too much so for your age, your mother would say over dinner - and your escapades to the woodland beside the keep resulted in muddy fingerprints up the curve of your thighs and difficult-to-hide bruises blooming below your collarbone.

You may have been reckless, but you knew better than to show up to court with purpling bite marks where the collars of your dresses did not reach.

On one of the rare sunny evenings, you had stolen away after supper to the balcony that extended across the western wing of the castle. It stretched from your quarters around the side of the building, ending at the room that had belonged to your sister before she had been married to a man who lived across the sea. The sun was low and the air was thick and so in your nightgown you prowled the terrace, fingers dancing along the worn stone and up the wilting vines. As you rounded the corner there he was - your sworn protector, a man who could be barely a year your senior, hunched in an old chair over his armour. You stopped behind the wall with enough haste that he didn’t spot you - or if he had, he never let on - and while he was engrossed in the work of polishing the silver, you watched.

He’d done away with his undershirt, most likely because of the stubborn, close heat, and though he was side-on to you, his chair facing out towards the mountains in the distance, he was hunched to his left, leaving you with a view you much preferred to the vast one beyond the wall.

The muscles across his back rippled as his arm moved back and forth over the metal. In the quiet of the evening you could hear small grunts and sighs, and as your eyes adjusted to the light you spotted silvery marks of healed flesh across his side. His back was speckled with freckles and as he moved, you took notice of his mop of hair.

Though your father’s knights were never required to wear their helmets in the castle, the hair that now flowed freely was usually tightly bound at the nape of your knight’s neck. You had never realised how long it truly was - nor how unruly. Brown curls stood in what seemed like every direction, swaying back and forth in tandem with his shoulder, glowing a slight auburn in the setting sun.

You had watched him for a while, listening to the sounds of his efforts and drinking in the way the light made his skin gleam golden. It wasn’t until the sun had set that you had made your escape, bare feet padding silently across cool stone.

Ser Munson - Edmund, or Eddie as he preferred - was assigned as protector of the King’s first daughter when she came of age, at sixteen. You had been a moody teenager, belligerent and stubborn, determined you did not need protecting, even if the protector in question was broodingly handsome and a challenge to crack.

Thus, you lingered around the castle while your sisters sought husbands and new lives. Your father, though a cunning ruler, was soft when it came to his girls, and so no man was worthy of a single one of them unless he made her happy.

And no man ever had made you happy. The ones who put themselves forward as candidates for your hand were, in most cases, perfectly nice men. Mostly wealthy, often handsome, but always boring.

It was always the same: they believed you to be the most beautiful princess in the history of the realm, and they would be honoured to wed you. But as your father’s eldest daughter you knew one thing to be true: every one of them wanted the throne, and would marry you to get there.

So you sought fun in lowly servant boys, stealing kisses from cupbearers and kitchen porters, running wild in the vast gardens of the castle, just out of grasp of your grumbling mother. One day, you’d tell her when she chastised you over monstrously glutinous dinners. One day a man will come here and sweep me off my feet. Until then, I am content with my lot.

After that evening when you were nineteen, you had not looked at Eddie the same way. His job was to follow you everywhere - well, mostly everywhere, unless you were behind a tree with the stableboy again - so it was difficult to not look at him. But those aimless adventures became tiresome, and your daydreams became occupied instead by the man who tailed your every move. Stableboys were getting married, all your sisters were getting married, every eligible nobleman for a hundred miles was getting married - but you remained, as did Eddie.

“So it doesn’t hurt?”

“No, your highness.”

Eddie stares straight ahead, off into the distance, answering your childish questions through gritted teeth. You grin at him, elbow on the arm of your chaise and chin cupped by your hand, enjoying this latest instalment of your petty little game: you ask him silly questions, Eddie’s cheeks go pink, and you get a good giggle and a kick out of teasing him. It began as something lighthearted, a test of the waters after that late night wander changed your perspective, but that was two years ago and understandably, Ser Munson is getting increasingly tired of your games. 

“Your highness, can I suggest that you get dressed? You’ll be late for-”

“No,” you yelp as he stands to move, sword clanking. “I’m sorry, I’ll bite my tongue. Don’t go.”

“But Miss-”

“Okay, okay, I’ll dress, just wait outside the door, will you?”

“I always do, your highness,” he says. “It is my duty.” You cannot see the smirk he sports as he turns his back to you; it is one he reserves only for himself, lest your ego get too big.

You deflate into your chair as he leaves, the heavy door swinging open. Three young maids are by your side as it slams shut, lifting you from your doze and tying you into a corset and skirt. Today you’re offered a deep navy gown, the colour of your family’s flag and perhaps the colour you look second best in.

At least it matches Eddie’s cloak.

You knock softly twice on your bedroom door, your handmaids tugging at the final details, and the guards who stand watch pull it open for you. You breathe in quick and deep, hands smoothing the satin across the top of your skirt, and step forward into the hall.

Eddie stands to one side, awaiting your direction. You follow your usual morning route, down the wide corridor to the stairs, which roll out into an even wider hall like dropped silk. Eddie’s cloak slinks across the stone floor behind you, and you yearn to make a joke, prod at him, get under his skin but you cannot, for many eyes are upon you now.

The Great Hall sits at the opposite end of the atrium to the staircase. The walls between yourself and the huge, towering doors are decorated for the brief return of your youngest sister, the most recent to wed - she is pregnant, and so there must be celebrations.

Floral garlands follow you as you make your way across the room, where, at the far end, your father stands in the doorway, watching, your mother by his side.

Peering glances follow you until other guests arrive and attentions are diverted. So you slow your step just slightly, enough that Eddie does not notice immediately and falls in line with you. Before he can correct himself, you lean in.

“Ed- er, Ser Munson,” you say, tone playful but slightly sinister, an indicator that you are brewing one of your schemes.

“Yes, your highness?” he responds neutrally.

“Ser Munson, would you please do me a favour?”

Long ago, Eddie learned to never respond to this query the way he is supposed to as your protector: Anything, your highness.

Instead, he asks: “What can I do for you?”

“You know that sword?” You twist slightly, tapping the hilt of his blade where one of his fists seems to permanently rest. “You’ve killed people with it, right?”

“Only when I have to, your highness.”

“How many, would you say?”

You hear him take a sharp breath in. You smile softly.

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” you repeat. “Care to make it nineteen? Do me a favour and slice through my guts so I don’t have to bear another one of these idiotic ceremonies?”

If you’d paid closer attention, rather than sharing your gaze between Eddie and your father, who was ever-nearing, you’d have seen that your dear knight almost broke. This would have been the closest you’ve come to getting a laugh out of him, your stoic, stone-faced hero.

“That’d be highly inappropriate, your grace,” he says, composed. “And I’d surely lose my head.”

“Oh, but that’s your job,” you whisper. “To die for me! And anyway, I can’t go to hell alone, you’ll need to keep me company. And protect me from the ghouls. So maybe make it twenty instead.”

This time, you do catch it. The corner of his mouth twitches and something in his eye, the way it dodges you, gives him away. In your peripheral vision you see him open his mouth - it’s close to your ear, you almost hear the beginning of a word - but you’ve reached the end of the hall, and your father awaits. Eddie falls back again, a step or two behind, as you drop your shoulders and brace yourself.

-

Being one of many sisters is a difficult life. Impossible to prevent yourself from comparing their hair to yours, their eyes, the slant of their shoulders, their waists, their hands, and worse is the bickering, the competition.

Being the only one of them not to be married is the worst.

Twenty minutes ago, you stole yourself away to a corner of the Hall with a too-full cup of wine and three slices of the best bread. Here you camp, munching on the final crust, eyeing up the table across the room. How do I get a refill without someone asking me to dance?

With your eyes squinted and shoulders hunched in, you scarcely notice your knight down the wall. He’s on guard, back straight with his hand on the hilt of his sword - watching, as he is supposed to. Only his attention is distracted, because in his peripheral vision is you, alone, as always.

It’s only when you hear the familiar clinking of sword sheath on armour that you turn to see that he’s beside you, and in a rare moment of peace, he’s leaning back, letting the wall take his weight.

“What’re you looking at?” You eye him suspiciously, swallowing the final sip of wine. “Come to ask for a dance for one of those snivelling Harrington boys?”

You hear him scoff, though he’s smiling just slightly. “No,” he says quietly. “Why, do you want to dance with Steven?”

You scoff. “Do I fuck.”

“Language, your highness.”

“Please stop calling me that when dad isn't around.”

He glances at you, smiling still, and rolls his eyes. “Why aren’t you with the other ladies?”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “The Buckleys aren’t here. It’s no fun without Robin.”

“And your sisters?”

“Oh yeah,” you drone. “I just love being reminded by all four of them how lucky a man would be to have me and how I must get married because, oh, weddings are so lovely!”

He turns to look at you properly, silver collar creaking, and reaches over to take your goblet. “How many of these have you had?”

You drop your hands behind your back, looking down at your slippers like a naughty child. “Three.”

To your surprise, you feel the damp rim of the cup meet your chin, pushing your face up. Eddie looks back at you and keeps the pressure under your head so you can’t divert your gaze. Your cheeks warm, heat blooming under his watch.

“Fine,” you sigh, eyes dropping closed in defeat. “Seven.”

You brace for a scolding, expecting a telling off from your faithful knight, but when you look at him in the silence, you find him grinning down at you.

“You’re going to feel awful in the morning,” he tells you.

You look back at him a little dumbfounded, because he’s very close to your face and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him in such detail before. There are creases by his eyes from smiling, and there’s an old, white scar across his nose, which is crooked, presumably from old punches.

“Will you take me to bed, then, please?” you ask softly, and he lowers the cup slowly, placing it on a nearby table without looking away from you. You look back at him, trying your hardest through the fog to give him your best pleading eyes, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. He’s close, still; time suspends as he nears even more and runs his thumb along the underside of your chin. It is the first time in your life that your knight has ever touched you.

 You watch as he brings it to his mouth - it’s a deep, bruised pink, dyed by the wine from the rim of the cup where it had held your face up - and, taking his eyes off you, slides it between his lips.

It’s certainly not the first time you’ve been breathless around him, but it is the first time you’re face to face with him as the air leaves your lungs in a slow, desperate whine. It feels criminal, illicit, standing in the shadows at the back of the room, within reach of anyone who cares to look for you, watching Eddie lick wine off the pad of his thumb.

The festive music on the other side of the room ends and people around you cheer. Eddie’s smile drops and he straightens up as though kicked in the back, looking around like he just woke from a dream.

“Uh, yes- Your highness. I’ll escort you to your quarters.”

He steps back but holds his arm out for you to take. For a moment you just stare at him, incredulous, before wrapping your fingers around the cool leather covering his forearm and lifting yourself off the wall, your heart wilting as his guard rises again and your fun, playful protector is lost to duty once more.

-

The ceiling of your bed chamber hasn’t changed in fifteen years. You know because you’ve had many nights like this, staring at it forlornly, yearning for something you cannot and will not have.

When you were six, your father had the sleeping quarters across the whole castle redecorated, and you requested a fresco above your bed. Under the guise of education, telling your father that it would help you practise your knowledge of Arthurian legends, you asked for a depiction of the knights of the round table. Truthfully, you wanted to be able to look at Arthur every night before you slept.

Now, it makes you feel sick. It’s an ugly, truthless fairytale, spun to make little girls giggle and you despise every inch of it, regardless of how beautiful it may have appeared to you once.

In the dark, you can still make out Arthur’s faded features. He is plain, with cropped blonde hair and a silly chestplate, looking over the expanse of your ceiling to Guinevere, whose clasped hands by her cheek make the picture of a woman in love.

You turn over, frustrated, and cover your head with a spare cushion.

-

The stone of the balcony wall is cool beneath the palms of your clammy hands. In the courtyard, your sister’s carriage is leaving, followed by many horsemen from her husband’s house. They’ll return only when the baby is born, to christen him in the family chapel.

You sigh as she leaves the gates and lean your weight on your hands. It’s still hot out, too hot for so many layers under your dress and a corset so tight, and you’re too exhausted to carry the weight around. Your maids are nowhere to be seen because it’s the middle of the afternoon and you should be socialising, but you’re an adult. You can dress - and undress - yourself.

As you return indoors, you reach behind your back and tug at the knot at the base of your corset. After a couple of frustrated tries it finally gives, loosening so that you can hook your fingers under each stretch and pull it undone. You gasp for air, filling your lungs properly as your ribs expand, and use your shoulders to pull it loose enough for you to remove. You take care to place each layer gently over your chaise - corset, overdress, skirt. You’re left in your undergarments - a long, loose slip made of cotton - when you hear an unexpected knock and the door begins to open.

You jump, feeling suddenly exposed in so few layers. It’s unlike anyone to disturb you at this hour.

You tense even more when your knight, with his hair loose and his cheeks pink, pushes the doors wider. He stops in his tracks for a moment as he spots you across the room, flushed your own shade of mortified.

“Eddie,” you hiss. “Shut the fucking door.”

His eyes widen and he straightens up, knocked out of his daze. You expect him to retreat, but he moves inside and pushes the doors closed behind himself.

“I meant with you outside them, ideally,” you bite.

“I- Uh, sorry- My apologies, your highness, I-”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Sorry! Sorry, shit, I- It’s important, sorry.”

“So important that it requires you to see me indisposed?”

He looks at you blankly for a second. “I mean, technically I see you like this every morning when you interrogate m-” 

“Oh, shut up,” you spit, eyes narrowing. Your arms are still crossed over your chest, even though you’re covered from neck to ankle. “You know that’s different. There’s no robe or slippers between us now, Ser Munson.”

His cheeks bloom at that, pink slipping into fiery red. He breathes impatiently through his nose, clearly irritated by your prodding, and steps closer.

“Your highness,” he says pointedly. You roll your eyes. “Your father- His Highness requests your presence. In the throne room.”

-

“I refuse.”

“Darling, I-”

“No!”

Your father stands at the other end of the table, his head hung and his hands on the wood in front of him. You are in the room in which he has his important meetings with his council. Over the years you’ve tried a hundred times to get in here during such meetings, to no avail, but now all you want is to get out.

“You are twenty-one,” he says after a breath. “I’ve given you time, five years of it. You can’t remain unmarried any longer.” This conversation has only been happening for maybe two and a half minutes, but it seems more like an age; you’re exhausted from yelling already, especially at him. But it feels like the walls are closing in, your entrapment in a loveless marriage with a stranger now a certainty rather than a possibility. It’s beyond your power to stop the tears falling.

“You can’t make me,” you say through the thickness of your throat. Your arms wrap around your waist, squeezing, breath hiccupping on its way out.

“I can,” he sighs. “But I really don’t want to. It doesn’t have to be horrible. Your sisters, they’re all happy, why-”

“I don’t care about them. I want to be-” You stop yourself, because this isn’t something to talk about here, with your father of all people; you’d barely even talk to your mother about this stuff. But he’s looking at you again over the expanse of mahogany and his eyes are sad, because he’s fighting with his first daughter, and you break. “I want to be in love, father. I don’t want to be sold off to the highest bidder because I’m the eldest. That can’t be my life.”

He sighs again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. It is. There are fifteen houses coming here tomorrow, each with an eligible son. I’m letting you choose; it’s the most I can do.”

Your nose burns with betrayal and terror. Your cheeks are wet, tears falling into soft, wet spots on the front of your dress. Your arms squeeze your middle one last time before you turn, pushing past the Kingsguard who stand at the door, past the cupbearers and the maids, and past Eddie, who has been waiting for you outside. For the first time ever you don’t hear the familiar sound of armour following you, and for a moment you almost stop to turn and look for him, but you’re still crying and although it’s the middle of the afternoon, all you want to do is hide.

-

“It’s true,” Robin sighs. “I’ve been looking in our library, and I’ve counted at least three instances.”

You roll onto your back. Robin sits beside you on the plush of your bed, which has been remade by your maids so that there are no remnants of your painful, sleepless night. She strokes your hairline softly, looking down at you with sorry eyes.

“The most recent was eighty-three years ago,” she continues. “Lady Flora. She ran off with her knight, to be fair… But still!”

“I’m the eldest, Robin,” you tell her, trying your hardest to stop your words coming out in a hiccup; you only stopped crying this morning, and you’re in no mood to begin again now. “There’s too much expected of me. I can’t run off. I have to pick the right person.”

She takes in a breath. “Who says he isn’t the right one? Or that you’d have to run off?”

“Centuries of historical precedent,” you tell her flatly. When you meet her eye, though, you watch as she tries and fails to hold in a laugh.

“Since when have you ever cared about historical precedent?”

“Never, but that’s the problem.” You sit up quickly, knocking her affectionate hand back into her lap. “I can’t… This isn’t right. None of it is, but especially… Him.”

“But in the centuries of historical precedent,” Robin says, a poor imitation of you, “There were people like you.”

“And what happened to them?” you ask with a huff, standing to pace beside your bed. “Exiled, abandoned, cut off, ridiculed… I can’t live like that, Robin. But- But I can’t exist here while he’s always around, right behind my back. He’s like my fucking shadow. I can’t-” You hiccup, a wet sound that heralds the return of tears. “I can’t move on.”

Robin watches you with eyes laced with a pity that makes you furious. You want her to fix this; it’s entirely irrational, but you’re lost, and surely someone somewhere has to take responsibility for this, fix it so you don’t have to feel anything anymore. Remove Eddie, replace him with someone lifeless and unfunny and ugly, hand you a beautiful, attentive husband on a platter and, most of all, take the pain away.

But it doesn’t work like that. You know it doesn’t.

“Your Highness,” Eddie says in a raised voice from beyond your door. “It’s time.”

You look at Robin, who looks back at you, her eyes wide.

“I’ll be a minute,” you shout back hesitantly as she rises and rushes over. You let her help you adjust your dress and she dips a cloth left behind by a maid into the basin of cool water by your bedside, wiping it gently over your cheeks in an attempt to reduce the blotches there.

Neither of you say another word. She takes your hand firmly and squeezes.

-

You hate this.

Although you’re desperate for anything but a pre-arranged marriage pact, part of you had quite genuinely hoped for some kind of miracle, that one of your suitors would be The Guy. In your restlessness the evening prior, you’d even let yourself fantasise that one of them, strikingly handsome in your daydreams, would appear at the foot of the throne and you’d feel it in that instant: love.

But in every version of this delusion, The Guy was faceless, nameless, a blur of a person until he wasn’t. Until he was Eddie.

In reality, your knight is out of sight for once, and you’re nearing hour three in the gardens, where the court musicians entertain the countless guests and wine is flowing freely for everyone except you. (With your father at your elbow all afternoon, it’s impossible to get a second cup. Your mouth is dry and your boredom inflating.)

You know better than to assume Eddie’s left the gardens completely, but there are too many people for you to see him.

Suddenly, you feel a sharp elbow nudge your rib.

You turn to your father and find him wide-eyed and pink in the nose - a tell-tale sign of frustration - nodding to the man standing opposite the two of you.

“Hm?” you hum, painfully aware of how obvious it is to the both of them that you weren’t paying a lick of attention.

“Lord Carver was telling us about his hunts,” your father says through gritted teeth.

“Oh,” you sigh, turning to the stranger. “How… Interesting. What do you hunt?”

“Deer, mostly,” he responds, puffing out his chest. His cheeks are blotched with pink and the caramel blonde of his hair is unpleasant. The pleasure of your attention is clearly feeding his ego. “Started on pheasants when I was ten. They’re far too easy now; I’m heading out tomorrow to try for a stag. Say, care to join me?”

“Oh, I’m flattered,” you say with a saccharine giggle and hand to your chest that your father can certainly see straight through. “But I don’t hunt. Thank you, though, Lord Carver.”

Lord Carver seems to take this somewhat personally, despite your almost sincere attempt at a polite curtsy. He comes over stoney, steel-eyed as though you’ve wounded him.

“No matter. Your highness,” he says flatly, bowing quickly to your father before turning on his heels and marching away.

You barely listen as you are accosted by the king for being so blatantly rude. Lord Carver is far from your mind because across the heaving mass of strange bodies, you can see your knight, looking straight back at you.

Your father hisses your name but you do not listen.

“I’m taking a walk,” you tell him. “Sorry, father, I just need a break. And… A glass of water.”

It must have rained this morning. The grass is damp beneath your feet, soaking slowly through the velvet of your lilac slippers as you push your way between bodies as politely as you can manage.

With your focus on the ground you do not see Eddie’s eyes following your figure through the crowd; you also do not see Lord Carver six steps behind.

The latter reaches you first, by quite a margin, a moment after you’ve broken free of curious strangers and can finally breathe again. Everything happens very quickly. In the shadow of a high wall, the man reaches for your arm like a viper. His fingers coil and the fresh garden air is replaced by his coddling breath on your cheek. He spun you so quickly you feel momentarily winded, enough to catch you off guard as your face scrapes the old brickwork. Spit hits your cheek and mixes with fresh blooms of blood as his pink face looms, dominating your field of vision - like a bear in a trap you feel helpless, his fingers around your wrist so tight you fear he may break your bones. In a moment you’re frozen stiff and he takes his chance, his lips pushing angrily into the stretch of bare skin above the collar of your dress.

“You’re a bitch,” he says, muffled by the skin under your jaw. You writhe and whimper but you cannot scream. “You humiliated me. See what happens to cunts like- Ungh-” 

The force of your knee between his legs is enough force to knock him back. Stumbling, he lurches forward again, only to meet your elbow, sharp and swift at his throat. The pathetic choking sound he makes mixes with the familiar sound of heavy boots; you turn to find Eddie, pink in the face, fist on the handle of his sword.

“Christ,” he pants, “Are you okay?”

Lord Carver coughs as he struggles to regain his balance.

“You-” Cough. “You bitch,” he spits, hand at his collar.

“Watch yourself,” Eddie growls, towering over the spluttering lord, his sword pulled only a few inches from its sheath - a warning: I will not hesitate. “I suggest you take your family home, Sir.”

Lord Carver looks up at him, red eyes watering and breath still catching. For a moment he seems to contemplate fighting back, but even you almost find yourself laughing at the possibility, until you look to Eddie and find a version of the man you’ve never seen before.

Your life, which Eddie tails endlessly from a few paces behind, always, is quiet. Mundane, boring, unadventurous; you rarely leave the castle grounds and when you do, it’s inside a carriage. Your bravest adventure since you were sixteen was taken barefoot, that evening after dinner, up on the balcony where you’d stumbled across your knight, bare-chested and panting.

You’ve teased Eddie before about how the lack of danger in your life must mean his own is boring. Though he never once gave into you, deep down you worry that it’s true.

Now, though, your knight is coloured a shade unknown to you. He’s come over like a shadow, eyes hard and brow set, and there’s a vein visible above the collar of his cape. Lord Carver seems to halve in size beneath his frame, and though he has never shown himself like this in front of you before, you’re sure of one thing.

Your pleading cry is too late, too weak - before you can intervene, Eddie’s fist makes contact with Lord Carver’s cheekbone. There’s a crack that, to you, is as loud as thunder, though the skies are as blue as they’ve ever been. As his back hits the floor, Lord Carver yelps like a wounded dog, and Eddie moves in on him.

“Eddie,” you plead, voice weaker still, your hands grasping his arm, “Leave him alone, I’m okay, please.”

In the commotion, you’d failed to notice your growing audience. You’re sure that if you let him, Eddie would give another punch, and another, but the man on the floor is bleeding from his nose and from a wide gash under his eye and your slippers are drenched through and so is the collar of your dress where your tears, unbeknownst to you, have been soaking the cotton.

“Please,” you hiccup, your hands squeezing, pulling Eddie backwards with as much strength as you can manage.

“Asshole!” Carver spits, his voice broken. Two men who resemble him are helping him up off the ground, the small crowd murmuring between themselves as they watch him stumble away. “You’ll regret this!”

It’s an empty threat. You barely hear it, in fact, because Eddie is finally turning to you, his shoulders dropping. His face softens the moment he looks at you.

“Are you okay? Did he- Where did he hurt you?” He asks again. People are dispersing but you pay them no mind because Eddie’s hands hold your face and it stings when he runs his gloved thumb over the gash on your cheek. You wince and his grip on you tightens, as though you might slip away if he lets you.

As his arms wind around your shoulders, you push your face into the embroidered crest that sits by his heart.

“You’re okay,” he tells you firmly, sweet words murmured into your hair. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Your father’s booming voice cuts through whispering strangers like a whip. Eddie moves away from you so quickly that you almost choke.

Tears mix with old blood and you want to scream. You want these strangers to leave your garden, you want Eddie to clean your wounds, you want to run away.

You cannot have what you want.

-

Two and a half weeks ago, your father replaced your knight via a letter.

Ser Munson has been reassigned.

After two nights of bed-rest in your chamber, wherein you were seen only by your mother and two alchemists, your new knight - an older man, as old as your father and then some - made himself known at your door. He informed you of his new appointment as your sworn protector. When you asked after Eddie, he closed the door.

Two lonely weeks entailed many downward spirals. One evening after countless days spent rotting, refusing the attendance of your mother or father, you find yourself staring blankly at your reflection in the glass beside the chest that houses your dresses. The girl looking back is gaunt and her eyes are bloodshot. There’s an old cut on her bottom lip, close to healing but you’re sure you’ll bite it open again soon enough, splitting the skin so that deep red plumes can burst through and begin the process again.

You think about Eddie. What would he say if he could see you now? Over the weeks you’ve spent more hours than you can count thinking about how he’d held you, the words spoken into your hair, low enough to avoid unwelcome ears. His hands had gripped you so firmly that you’d almost felt whole again after Lord Carver’s grubby paws had violated you so horribly. Now you’re hollow.

His reassignment was surely your punishment: how dare you let yourself be so distracted that you humiliate a noble Lord to the point of such anger? How dare you humiliate him such that he wants to hit you, bite you, kiss you, hurt you?

Meals delivered by your maids go uneaten. You do not speak to your new knight, only catching a glimpse when he opens the door for attendants. 

At the dawn of a Thursday, your mother delivers the news that you are to stay behind while your parents visit your sister. You’re not sure which one of the four it is, but you do not care. With them gone, maybe you can go out; it’s early summer, after all, the weather is glorious, and you’re gasping for some sunlight and some respite from this stupidity.

-

When the sandbag splits, old hay spills onto the muddy ground.

Eddie’s sword is freshly sharpened and slices through the woven material like a hot knife through butter. He imagines Lord Carver’s face where the bag is tied together with string and watches it fall limply to the floor.

Outside in the courtyard, the sun is hot and shade is rare, and sweat beads on his forehead and drips to his chin. Other knights spar around Eddie, practising for nothing. His new position in the Kingsguard is, quite obviously, a downgrade, but only a few of his fellow knights have tried to get the why out of him: why have you stopped tailing the eldest daughter around? Why are you now forced to watch the southern walls in the dead of night? How did it happen? What did you do?

He chances a glance upwards, to the higher balcony along the wall, squinting under the sun. He doesn’t know if what he sees is you, standing in the shadow, or a trick of the light.

-

Your parents have been gone for two days, and the castle is like a ghost town. It’s never like this; even on late night escapades through the hallways, there are always maids at work, cleaning ladies and cupbearers. Guards on constant rotation, your father’s advisers wandering the halls having hushed conversations.

Tonight, though, there’s nothing. Your family’s absence is a moment of respite for the staff, who get a rare few evenings off to venture into town for some fun. You’re completely alone.

The long corridors look almost blue. The full moon is rising over the horizon and you’re enjoying an evening of freedom.

With most of the court staff out of the castle walls, you can’t be sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for tonight. He may have gone off with them, with his friends in the guard, down to a pub, getting drunk because he can, stumbling half-blind into a brothel like the rest of them do.

You shake the thought off because it turns your stomach, despite having no claim over the boy. It’s true that he may have gone but you’re searching anyway, because you’re driving yourself mad with guilt, and secretly you’ve missed him horribly.

You miss knowing he’s right outside your door, only ever a few paces away if you need him. You miss the blooming pink across his cheeks whenever you tease him, his stumbling answers and poor attempt at staying stony-faced and stoic. And you miss the smirk, though you’re sure he thinks he hides it well, that creeps across his face whenever you finish your teasing.

It’s your first time in this corner of the castle. Almost twenty-two years of living here, you’ve never had a reason to venture to where the knights stay. It’s a long way from your own wing - you’ve been walking for ten minutes and you’ve only just spotted a door. You’re treading softly in your favourite ruby slippers which, though you’d never admit it even to yourself, were surely chosen on purpose. You dressed yourself this evening, so there’s no use blaming your maids for the decision to drape you in scarlet.

As you come to a stop outside the room, you hold your breath and listen. You haven’t seen a single knight - not even your own new one - this whole time, but there’s somebody in there, and it sounds like they’re pacing.

Your hand reaches for the handle but just as you touch the iron, it twists on its own and the door flies open. You stumble forwards, losing your balance, but a familiar hand steadies you.

“Your highness?” He breathes, helping you back up. “What the- What are you doing here?”

You look at him. The man staring back at you is wide-eyed, those browns as pretty as ever but framed by new, dark circles. It’s difficult to see in the low light but he’s more tired than you’ve ever seen him. And though he seems sleepy, he’s dressed up in most of his on-duty getup, without the cape and sword.

“Eddie?”

“I thought the- Aren’t you supposed to be seeing your sister?”

“No, I… I stayed behind,” you tell him. A half-lie.

He looks back at you blankly. “Well,” he sighs. “We should… I should escort you back to your chamber.”

“No,” you say firmly. He does not invite you inside but you step over the threshold anyway, pushing past him into what you assume must be his bedroom.

It’s a plain room. The bed is low with old sheets, and there’s one candle burning on a table by the window. On the wall above his bed, he has hammered what looks like a letter into the plaster. And to the left of that-

“Is that mine?” You point plainly to the embroidery hoop. Even in the near-darkness you cannot miss the rosy flush you ignite across his face.

He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “Yes.”

It’s a small hoop, one you must have done years ago. A deep red rose, your favourite.

You look at it for a moment, and then to him. “Where have you been?”

He drops his hand. “I was reassigned,” he tells you.

“Why?”

“I don’t-”

“Why?” you press. He sighs and leans in the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest.

“After the… Incident with Lord Carver, your father thought it best that I be moved.”

“And now?”

“Now,” he sighs, “I’m on the nightwatch.”

“The nightwatch?!” you parrot. Even you, with only superficial understanding of the mechanics of your father’s guard, know that that’s one of the worst jobs. “But you… Why would he punish you?”

“Ask him,” he says bitterly, and so quickly that you know he regrets it instantly. “Sorry,” he corrects, “That was out of order.”

“Don’t apologise,” you say back, stepping past him into the wide hallway. It’s a brighter blueish-grey now, the moon nearing its highest spot in the night sky. You stop, turning to look at Eddie, and there’s a beat of silence.

He’s watching you quietly, and it takes him a moment to realise that you wish him to follow you. Under the moonlight you’re effervescent, your skin almost sparkling. The soft glow of the moon reflects a million times in your eyes like tiny diamonds. You’re so pretty it’s difficult to look away.

Eventually he closes the door behind him and falls into a familiar step, just behind your left foot. You walk and talk as you meander through random hallways, clearly unsure where you’re going but he says nothing, silently grateful to see you again and willing to walk every hall of the castle if it means stretching out the time before he has to leave you again.

“Why do you say that?” he asks. You turn your head to look at him, lost. “You told me not to apologise.”

You huff, striding forward. “You don’t have to respect my father around me, Eddie. It’s not like he respects me, or anything.”

“I don’t understand,” he says quietly. You bristle, frustrated that you’ve allowed the conversation to move to you. You’d intended to find out where he’d gone, not tell him about this.

“He can quite easily forget about me,” you tell him over your shoulder bitterly. “I’m happy to forget about him for a few days.”

“I… I don’t understand,” he repeats, and it irritates you double.

“For God’s sake,” you spit, stopping so abruptly that he almost crashes into your back. You spin and stare him down. “I’m a disappointment, okay? They left for their trip, and they left me behind. I’m useless. No man likes me, not enough to marry me, only stupid stableboys have ever come close to me. Something went wrong somewhere and now I’m here, heir to the throne and without a husband. And it’s. Your. Fault.” You jab your index finger to his chest for emphasis, but it’s meagre because you can feel the tears returning and you want nothing less than to be seen crying by Ser Munson. 

You cross the remainder of the hallways alone, Eddie left behind. Whether by choice or because of shock you don’t know, and frankly you don’t care. When you finally return to familiar halls, you push your way into your chambers and slam the heavy door as hard as you can behind you.

After a few minutes of pacing, having make-believe arguments with yourself in hushed tones, there’s a soft knock. So soft you almost miss it, but the eerie quiet of the castle has you jumpier than usual.

“Sweetheart,” you hear through the thick wood. “Let me in? Please?”

Maybe it’s your fear in the silence, or maybe it’s the way the rare sweetheart makes your stomach drop; either way you cave, rushing over and heaving the door open.

On the other side of the threshold, Eddie stands, hair unruly like he’s run his hands through it a few times. The curls stick out at odd angles and stand out dark against his alabaster skin.

Something in his eyes makes you break. The tears come thick and fast and before you can hide or apologise or close the door, arms wrap you up and his hand is on your back, smoothing patiently up and down.

It’s not the most comfortable hug; his armour is mostly leather and cloth but the toughness of it all makes it difficult to completely lean into him. As though he senses that, he pulls back, though his hand lingers on your arm where he gives you a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup, palms smudging wet tears across your face in an attempt to dry your eyes. “That was so mean of me, I’m sorry.”

“I just want to know what you mean,” he says, his eyes sadder than you’ve ever seen them. You dreaded this inevitability the moment you let the blame fall from your lips, but you owe him that much.

You sigh, look down at your feet, and resign yourself to truth.

“Father… He loves me, but he loves the throne just as much. And I’m the eldest, and I’m almost twenty-two, so…”

In your peripheral vision you see him sag, his shoulder dropping in premature realisation.

“He brought all those men here, and not one of them was even slightly as interesting to me as you.”

Eddie looks at you, at the tears that periodically drop from your cheeks to the floor, listens to you sniff and hiccup, and wonders how on Earth you exist, let alone how you’ve landed here, with feelings so profound for him of all people.

“That’s one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me,” he tells you honestly. You look up at him and the sight winds him: you’re crying, and it’s sad and stressful and difficult but you’re so beautiful.

You giggle and to him, it’s the ringing of a thousand bells by a thousand angels. It’s golden and brilliant. “I’m surprised,” you say, your smile lingering. “You’re really very lovely.”

He steps forward and reaches up, taking your chin in his gloved hand. You look back at him and sigh without meaning to as he moves his hand to cup your cheek and wipes stray tears away with his thumb. It takes your mind back to loud music, seven goblets, and a wine-stained thumb between his teeth.

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you quietly. There’s no one around but this still feels painfully scandalous, like glass that could - and will - shatter at any moment. No sudden movements.

You smile into his palm. “Stop it.”

“It’s true,” he says as his thumb moves across your skin, over the remnants of the cut across your cheekbone, over expanse of skin to your lips.

You watch him as he takes a deep breath in.

“I wasn’t reassigned,” he admits to you. You match him, breathing deep through your nose, preparing for the truth. “Well, I asked to be reassigned. I had to plead, really, because your father… He’s a good man.”

You roll your eyes without thinking and feel your bottom lip quivering again, the tears reemerging.

“He told me I’d never be able to see you again,” you tell him in a whisper.

“That’s my fault.”

“What?” You lift your head upright and he drops his hand, bringing it to his hair instead to run it through the curls again.

“I asked that I be kept away from you.”

“Why?! Why on earth would you… What could possibly possess you?”

“I couldn’t go through that again,” he says. “I couldn’t be near you. It was too… Too painful, and I let it get the better of me when I punched Lord Carver.”

“You were protecting me,” you say flatly. “That’s- That was your job.”

The emphasis hurts. “I know,” he sighs, “But… I wanted to kill him.”

“I don’t understand,” you tell him. You despise the whimper your words come out with, the way your jaw clenches to hold back more tears. What you can see of his neck above the collar of his thick tunic and under the cover of ringlets of tired hair is blotchy, coming up rosy in uneven patches. Is he stressed? Nervous? Both?

Your vision blurs with tears and your nose burns. He looks back at you softly, just like always, his eyes dark and inviting. Your lip wobbles again and you hear his breath hitch in the quiet.

“Let me show you,” he offers as he holds your cheek again. You cannot help but lean in, head tipping to the left to feel the expanse of leather over your cheek, his thumb dancing softly across your skin.

“No, I- You have to explain yourself, I don’t-”

“Please?” He looks at you with those fucking eyes of his and you want to kick him and kiss him all at once. “Do you trust me?”

The urge to kick him persists but you nod anyway. Perhaps the kicking is not a frustration aimed at him but at yourself instead: why can you not tell him how you feel? Why does the possibility of what he’s about to do scare you so much?

“I don’t know what to do,” you admit to him in a whisper. You feel naked before him, though there’s layers of thick velvet and scuffed leather between the two of you, a hundred barriers of material, an aching yawn of distance that you find yourself disliking immensely. 

Can Eddie read your mind? It feels that way right now - you only uttered six words but he seems to understand you entirely at this moment. He drops his hand from your face, takes a step back, and as you watch him wordlessly unbuckle his armour, your stomach contracts and your soul becomes hollow in anticipation. He removes the belt that the sword usually sits on, and then his leather gauntlets, pulling each finger from the gloves and placing them, too, on the table. As he peels off each piece of his uniform, creating a growing pile on the wood and on your floor, you see, for the first time since that night when you were nineteen, the bloom of his flesh under his billowing undershirt. He’s paler now than he was then, though the moonlight seeping in through the cracks between heavy curtains over your windows is no match for the golden wash of colour he had once basked in. If you had any sense you’d laugh at the display before you: endless metal defences and leather covers come away from his body and pile noisily beside him. But you’re transfixed, fingers fidgeting, bottom lip absentmindedly between your teeth.

You do not notice him glance at you every so often. Between removing each greave, he looks up at you again, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the flurry of blood to his cheeks. He’s baring himself, and you’re looking at him like he’s edible; perhaps, to you, he is.

After many minutes filled only by the sounds of deconstructed armour, metal and leather, he’s free of it, and he stands before you in a loose shirt and cotton slacks. His pale chest is visible behind the deep, un-tied collar and your fingers itch, fidgeting still, yearning to know what it feels like.

“Talk to me,” he whispers. “Don’t go quiet on me now.”

“I saw you like this, once,” you say quickly, voice so low it’s almost a whisper. You’re looking at everything - his arms, his legs, neck, chest, hands - except his eyes.

He’s taken aback. “What?”

“Years ago. I was nineteen. You were outside-” You turn to look through the open balcony door behind you, at the bright white gleaming down on the stone beyond. “-polishing. It was so beautiful out there, but I remember watching you for ages.”

You turn back, eyes on his finally. As ever, they’re wide and deep brown and beautiful. “Sorry. I know that’s strange. And forbidden, I guess.”

“No,” he breathes, taking a step towards you. “No, it’s fine- It’s okay.”

The air is thick and between that and your corset, you can barely breathe. He’s inching closer and it’s difficult to know where to look.

Nobody has ever been this close to you before. Not truly; you kiss your father and mother on the cheek before heading to bed each evening, you give your sisters fleeting embraces, you've fooled around with stableboys and, of course, you once loved to lean into his space whenever you teased Eddie, but this is different. Someone electing to be so near, choosing to breathe your air and not flinching or pulling back, instead lingering just to let his eyes dance over yours once more - it’s new, and it’s addictive.

He’s breathing your air but you’re also breathing his. The hills of his cheeks are mere whispers from your own, and his nose, crooked at the bridge where it once broke, nudges yours so lightly that you ought not feel it. It takes your breath away anyway.

At the sound of your gasp he smiles, only slightly, but you’re so close you see it in his eyes. Crows' feet emerge, wrinkling happiness beside his temples, and you can’t help but return it. As you fight the urge to close your eyes you watch him as he watches you, bated breaths and whimpers. All of a sudden he meets your gaze and you stumble where your foot had been resting on your other ankle. The heel of your slipper slides across bare skin and your balance goes, but before you can panic or cry out, you are pulled in breathless by his strong arm around your back. There may be layers upon layers of fabric but you feel it anyway, the electric jolts up your spine where his palm presses firm into your waist. Whether he means to or not is unclear, but you’re chest-to-chest with him now, the firm bones of your corset pushed against his shirt.

Your fingers spread across the fabric of his shirt. Without meaning to, you venture upwards, fingertips meeting the small smattering of coarse hair there, under the cotton. You watch your hands like they’re moving on their own, until his finger, hooked beneath your chin, tilts you up to meet his eye again.

It’s happening, you think to yourself. But then his arm, still around your middle, tightens briefly and he’s gone.

You watch him cross your room, the few steps he takes to your bed suddenly a criminal distance, too far, far too far. He sits upright on the edge of it, legs parted.

“Come here,” he says, his voice a melodic tug at your core. You move to him, sliding each of your slippers off on the way, and stand hesitantly between his knees, holding your breath without thinking to. 

You can’t look at him. You caught a glimpse of his eyes and the way they’re looking up at you and you can’t. It’ll surely kill you.

He thinks you’re perfect, standing here, towering over him, relenting. His tough palms smooth over the layers of deep red velvet that lie over your hips, and for a moment he allows himself to relish in the small noises of shock you’re making before he urges you to turn around.

“You know,” he begins as his deft fingers untie and release the intricate ribbons at your back. “It wasn’t your fault.”

You turn your head towards him, as far round as you can. “What?”

“The… What happened, that afternoon. The way he spoke to you…” Eddie’s fingers still for a moment and you hear him take a deep breath. “The way he touched you. I don’t know what your father- what His Majesty said about it, but it wasn’t your fault.”

His left hand begins pulling at the ribbons again, but his right rests safely on your waist, as though he’s demonstrating something: how you should be touched, the way you deserve, soft and kind and gentle and wanted.

You hum in agreement.

“And I truly am sorry I punched him,” he says. “It- If I’d just told him to back away, it never would have become such… Such a thing, a big deal.”

“Eddie,” you breathe, grateful that you can get a lung-full again. You turn back to him in his grasp and take his face in both hands. Your palms are warm but they’re nothing compared to the flames of his cheeks, which almost burn under your touch. “I’m not mad that you punched him. I wish I’d done it, truly. But I’m never mad that you want to protect me.”

Your hands on his face startle him. You both sense it in the moment, how unlike you this is, to touch him so willingly and so carefully.

“I don’t think you needed me to protect you,” he says quietly, a smile emerging though he tries his best to hold it back. “Your elbow seemed to do a good enough job of that.”

Ah! The sound of your feather-light laugh fills a yawning gap in his chest that appeared two and a half weeks ago. It sounds even more beautiful than before, a twinkling spark of a sound, just for him.

“You’re funny,” you tell him. “I’ll always need you, Ser Munson. Don’t worry about that.”

He looks up at you from his seat on the edge of your bed with eyes that sparkle like the sky outside. Perhaps it’s the reflection of the faded stars painted onto your ceiling, or perhaps it’s just the sight of you.

Both of his hands are on your waist, now, as you stand between his legs. There’s a lot of material in your skirt, though, and it feels too distant still, so you reach behind your back to pull the remainder of the ribbons keeping your corset on, and pull it over your head. Eddie helps where he can from such a low vantage point, and as soon as it’s off and disregarded on the floor, his eager fingers are pulling the velvet dress down and away from your body.

“Fucking hell,” he heaves, “How many things do you have on right now?”

“You’re one to talk,” you giggle. “It took you five whole minutes just to free your arms.”

“Okay, but that’s important. I don’t want to lose my arms. This must weigh a tonne, and… For what?”

You hold his cheek in your left hand again while he unties various laces and undoes buttons. Your skirt has fallen away, as has the underskirt and the other, thicker layers. You’re left in your underdress, a simple white cotton embroidered at the collar. It’s nicer than the one he caught you in all those weeks ago, moments before your life seemed to tilt and slip away beneath you.

Under the fabric, your nipples harden in the cold, jutting out and catching Eddie’s eye.

“Is this okay?” He asks, pulling you in anyways, standing you safely between his knees, his wide hands tentative on your hips. “We don’t have to-”

“Yes,” you say firmly. “Please, yes.”

His hands slide over the hills of your behind to the backs of your thighs. He’s still looking up at you, eyes drooping when your fingers dance through his hair. 

“I meant it, though,” you say. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That’s okay,” he sighs, standing slowly. “I have all the time for you.”

The moonlight bleeds a sharp bluish hue but it doesn’t matter. Right now, as he says those lovely words, the boy is a golden ball of light, humming pinks and warm ochre. Your yearning arms wind over his shoulders as his breath mixes with yours once more, his nose nudges the swell of your cheek, his hands press firm into your waist. He’s slow with it, tantalising, keeping you whimpering and desperate, until he finally dips into you, lips on yours with a surprising urgency.

It’s magic, you are so sure of it. His mouth moves over yours with certainty: he wants to be here, he wants to kiss you. He’s wanted to kiss you.

All those fairytales that your wiry old school teacher told you were real, about spells and conjurings and spirits: it’s all real, surely, and it’s in this feeling. There’s no other way you can understand it, though in truth your brain isn’t entirely clear because his fingers are smoothing lower, bunching your dress in his fists to pull the fabric up over the stretch of your legs. All the while his kisses never cease; in fact, once you feel the cool air over the material of your underwear, you gasp and welcome his tongue with your own. Air is worthless to you now; all you want is Eddie.

Much to your dismay, he seems to disagree, pulling back from you to take a breath and lift your dress over your head. He whispers up and you raise your arms, letting him undress you quietly, and once he has, you daren’t open your eyes, instead winding your arms across your chest. You feel the nighttime breeze across the backs of your thighs and you tense knowing that you’re bare in front of him.

There’s a slow beat before you feel his hands again. You hear the dress discarded on the stone floor and then his rough fingers are gently, oh so gently, holding your waist. It’s like he thinks you could break.

“Can I touch you?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Of course you can.”

You expect more solid grabs of flesh, hands smoothing over the expanse of your stomach, maybe even venturing upwards, but you take in a surprised breath when you feel his mouth on your sternum.

His rough hands hold your lower back and he kisses, framing each of your breasts with rows of feather-light pecks, dancing blossoms of affection. You drop your hands to his hair as you let out a breath of satisfaction, tangling your fingers in the curls as his mouth rises.

The whine of your name that leaves your lips is met with his hands tightening, fingers almost curling into the flesh of your back. His kisses turn eager, frantic, crossing the mounds of each of your breasts. His hands leave you to pull his shirt over his head and it’s too much all at once: too much to see, feel, know. You can’t take it in before he’s kissing you again, less than kind as his arms pull your bare chests flush.

Your fingers explore new terrain, which is littered with freckles and white, years-old scars that stretch over his alabaster skin, each one a story that you hope he will tell you one day.

“Eddie,” you pant. He returns the sentiment, breathing your name over and over into your mouth as he sits back down and pulls you into his lap.

The rough of his slacks sends an unfamiliar jolt up your spine when your hips meet his. In the heat of the moment he’s pulling at you a little rough but your gasp draws him out.

“You good?”

“Just… Slow down,” you tell him, resting back on your heels with your hands on his broad, bare shoulders.

“Sorry,” he says. His face is flushed pink and his dark eyes are drooping. “Want to stop?”

“No,” you respond, too quickly to keep your cool. You shake your head. “No, I just- I’m scared I’ll go too fast. I like you too much.”

“I told you,” he says, moving in with his eyes on you. You nod, almost imperceptibly. He kisses your collarbone and then your shoulder. “I have all the time in the world for you.”

“What if someone catches us?”

He pulls back again and reaches up, moving hair from your face and putting it behind your ears. Tidying you up. Fussing over you. It’s nice.

“I promise that everybody who would even think to come anywhere near this room tonight is gone until at least tomorrow afternoon.” He kisses under your jaw, and it returns the shivers back down your spine. “They’re too busy getting drunk. Nobody’s thinking about us.”

“You promise?”

He kisses your chin. “I promise.”

A few years ago, your father entertained a visitor from one of the bigger cities. They had been on a ship for some years and they brought goods the likes of which you’d never seen before: round, vibrant, sharp fruits, powders that made food taste wildly different, and, your favourite, a small collection of fireworks.

In the light of a small bonfire, your father helped the visitor set the wooden tubes alight. They flew off into the air and sparkled, fizzed, popped. It was a display that you couldn’t help but gawk at, enjoying the sizzles and the colours in the deep January sky.

That’s what this feels like. His lips plotting a map across your bare neck, up over your jaw, until they reach your mouth, it feels like seeing fireworks. You keen into his mouth as he licks across your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth gently before letting go, meeting your tongue with his own. His hands at your back pull you in and that flush returns between your legs. He keeps you moving slowly, a lethargic push and pull across his crotch. The dips and folds of the tough fabric there, paired with the growing hardness beneath, give you a friction that you chase instinctively. It’s coupled with a litany of praises whispered into your skin between kisses, and the combination is clearing your head and sending you dizzy.

“That’s it, you’ve got it,” he coos, “Nice and slow for me, yeah? Just-”

Through drooping lids you watch him, his face scrunching in pleasure as you rock against him. It is not lost on you that this feels just as good for him, but you can tell he’s holding something back.

His face relaxes, and he meets your eye. “Hey.” He nudges your nose with his own and takes a deep breath. “You have to breathe, deep breaths. Doesn’t feel half as good if you stop breathing, promise.”

You let out a sigh and a twinkling giggle and he smiles, wide enough that you can see his dimples. He continues showering you with sweet praises, urging you towards oblivion. Look at you. I don’t even need to tell you what to do. You’re so beautiful.

“Fuck- My god.”

The pace quickens as you chase the abyss. His hands don’t move, keeping you anchored to him, moving you back and forth. It’s bliss like you’ve never felt; your own hand could never get you this far. The friction of his pants between your thighs is perfect and your need is ferocious as your stomach winds like a coil.

“C’mon,” he encourages, “You can do it. You’re doing such a good job, c’mon-”

You fall forwards and rest your forehead on his shoulder, whimpering something desperate into his neck as your stomach tenses and bends. Please, Eddie, please, please, please.

A white-hot light sears the darkness behind your eyelids as you come apart for him. He’s calling you all sorts of filthy things but you can barely hear him, brain too occupied by the burning in your belly and his hands, which are seemingly everywhere all at once.

“Good girl,” he whispers into your hairline. He scatters kisses there as you catch your breath.

“Thank you,” you sigh. “Thank you.”

He laughs and you feel it reverberate through his chest.

As you slouch into him, feeling returning to each limb, you feel a foreign yearning in your gut, a relentless feeling that prompts you to squirm. Wriggling, your restless hands paw at his arms and his back and they move lower, until you meet the waistband of his slacks.

You whine into his neck when he won’t move to accommodate your impatience. His hands lure you back from your resting place so he can look at you, with your kiss-swollen lips and happy eyes.

“I need to know that you want this,” he whispers. He rests your foreheads together, the tip of his nose nudging yours.

All you can do is whine. You’re too elated to care to form words, but Eddie’s not having it.

“I need to hear you say it,” he tells you sternly. His eyes do not betray him: they’re steely and suddenly darker than ever.

You dip your head to kiss his jaw, nosing at his cheek, lips and teeth dragging along his skin.

“I want you, Eddie,” you tell him. His fingers tighten at the nape of your neck and pull you back, gentle but firm, as he watches you speak through obsidian eyes. “Please.”

He says nothing as he gives you one more kiss, soft as anything to the pillows of your lips, before helping you off his lap and laying you between the pillows at the head of your bed. You curl up there, the breeze colder still against the wetness between your thighs, which you squeeze together as you watch him stand.

He’s all lean muscle and long limbs. You let yourself gawk for the first time since that night on the balcony; you usually have to ration your glances at him, and he’s always covered by so many layers, so you allow yourself this luxury.

He knows you’re watching, so he makes a little show of it, bending down to get rid of the slacks. Before he does, you notice that the brown has deepened around his crotch with the stains of your pleasure. Acknowledging this makes you shiver, and though you feel you should be disgusted, it’s oddly comforting instead.

When he looks over at you, finally bared and unflinching, he takes a moment to take you in.

You’re still glowing, perhaps more so than before. Some of your hair is stuck to your face, plastered there in the heat of your first orgasm, but the rest of it is laid out around your head like a halo. It’s unfair that you can be so casually magnificent. You’re also not looking at him - well, not meeting his eye, anyway. The tip of your index finger is between your teeth as you take in the sight before you, Eddie as hard as he’s ever been, just for you.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

You look up at his face and break out in a grin. “Absolutely.”

He’s slower than you want, leaning over you, his knees on the comforter beside you, mouth lazy as he gives you kisses. You take and take, happy under his touch.

His hands are everywhere again. Your skin is on fire, aflame from the praise and the affection and the attention. The sensation of being so close to another person while naked like this is achingly unfamiliar but learning it is nice, new, natural. Though it’s nothing like anything you’ve ever experienced before, you’re finding that you like it. You like smoothing your hands over his back, feeling the dips and peaks of his muscles there, or around to the slight pudge of his stomach, just above a thatch of hair similar to your own. You like the feeling of his palms on your shoulders, down your arms, across your waist. You like that when he kisses you, you feel the nudge of his nose beside yours. You like that he appears breathless to you, like your kisses are preferable to air, especially when he becomes restless and impatient.

Above you, his hand moves south, fingers burying their way between your legs. Without realising it, you’ve been squeezing them together, desperate for any relief you can find, but his fingers are certainly better. They push your knees apart so that he can climb into your space, his waist framed by your thighs, the weight of him crashing into you as he dips again to kiss you silly. You wind your arms around his neck and pull him in, enjoying the proximity rather than fleeing from it, and feeling desperate without shame.

One hand hooks under your thigh while the other plants firmly on the mattress beside your head.

“You ready?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“I’m going to go slow,” he tells you, his lips moving against yours lest he get too far away. “Just tell me if you want to stop, please?”

“Yes,” you pant, “Yes, of course, please-”

The hand beneath your thigh escapes and he holds himself as you wind your arms under his, around his chest, pulling him in tight.

It’s definitely slow. A slow, tantalising push between your thighs, filling that gaping yearning within your gut. He’s big, though it barely takes you by surprise because of course he is.

He’s panting, biting his lip above you. “Fuck-” he gasps, “Shit- You okay?”

You nod as fervently as you can because words are escaping you and all you can think about is him, hovering over you, pushing into you, breathing your air and nudging your cheek.

“You feel- You feel so good,” he breathes, pushing further. You nod in agreement and tug him closer still, until he’s in as far as he can go, filling you to the hilt.

The proximity dazzles you as you open your eyes and examine his face. The scrunch between his brows, the freckles across his crooked nose, his teeth biting firm into his lip. It feels only natural to lean up and plot a path of kisses across the hills of his face, bright, happy kisses that relax him until he can kiss you back. He lets the weight of his body fall into yours, keeping some pressure on his arm so as not to crush you entirely, but the feeling of closeness is too comfortable for him to forego.

He speaks into the flesh of your cheek when he says, “I’m going to start moving, okay?”

“Yes,” you pant, and he does, pulling slowly away before pushing back. The friction of the movement over your clit adds to the swelling feeling of fullness each time he returns to you, and the pleasure is almost overwhelming. You take heavy breaths until they become moans, matched by his own noises. Your head is empty and all you want to do is become him; being here, underneath him, is never quite enough. Instead you wish you could, in this moment, under the stars and the moon and wrapped in the night breeze, merge with your knight and stay here forever.

Your lazy daydreams are interrupted when he groans and mutters some kind of praise into your hairline: You’re doing so well. Fuck, so good. And then, to your surprise, you feel his free hand traverse the expanse of your body, between the two of you, over the hill of your stomach until the pads of his fingers find your clit.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Perhaps you haven’t melted together, but this somehow got even better. His cock moves just as quick as he draws lucid circles with his middle and ring fingers over you. He kindles the flame like an expert as his mouth drops kisses messily across your own lips. That’s it: everything is messy, lazy, desperate. He moves and kisses and whispers please, come on, come for me, are you okay? I know you can do it, you feel so good, you’re beautiful.

The hot wire returns. It burns as it coils, tighter and tighter around an abyss in your gut, tugging on each limb like you might implode and become a black hole right here in your bed.

“Eddie, oh my god-”

“Come on.”

“Unngh- It feels s- So good-”

“Come on, sweetheart.”

His movements never relent as you come, the wire burning out in a white-hot bang. You yelp, moaning his name, and he keeps going through it all, kissing you silly all over your face. It’s only when you start to squirm that he slows, brings his busy hand out from between the two of you and smiles. He allows himself a moment to watch you, face lax and mouth agape, sweaty brow and hair a mess, before he taps your hollow cheek with his knuckles.

You open heavy eyes to look back at him and watch as he smirks down at you and brings two messy fingers to his mouth. He’s still inside you and he feels it, the way you squeeze him just slightly as he tastes you on his tongue, making a little show of it for you. He hears you gasp, panting like a dog, and even the moan that leaves you when he pulls his fingers free and they glisten in the low light. “Holy shit,” you breathe, and he breaks out in a grin before he can stop himself. “Holy shit, Eddie.”

“Happy?” he asks.

“Happy? Fuck yeah, I’m happy.”

His laughter is deep and loud, a rumble from his chest that makes you grin back at him.

“What about you?” you ask, eyes drooping again, bringing the back of your hand to your forehead. It burns there, like you have a fever. You must look a state.

“I’m more than happy,” he says, smiling. “You up for a little more?

You look at him. “Hm?”

“I, uh… I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock,” he admits, flushing, “And you… You feel so good, and I’d like to… Y’know.”

He feels bad for a second when your eyes widen and you look down quickly. “Oh, Eddie, shit, did you not- Oh my god, I’m so selfish, are you okay?”

Your hands are everywhere all of a sudden, pawing at his arms and his chest, your fawning interrupted by another bellowing laugh. When you giggle back, he winces, feeling it in the way your body pulls him tighter.

“I’m fine,” he assures you, “But I want to try something.”

“Of course,” you say.

“You sure you’re okay to keep going?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “I want to help you, I want you to feel good too.”

“Hold on, then,” he says, threading an arm between your back and the sweat-damp mattress. You wind your arms back around his neck and yelp when he swings you around, all the while keeping his cock firmly inside your walls.

“Fuck,” you splutter, planting your hands either side of his head.

He likes this view. Your face hovering over his, your knees either side of his waist. He holds you by the hips, feeling the curves and dips, pushing impatient fingers into the flesh at the base of your back.

“God, you are gorgeous,” he says. He likes this view, too, watching you flush and bat your eyelashes, made nervous under his gaze and by his lovely, genuine words.

“Not too bad yourself,” you respond, smiling, lifting one hand to push curls from his warm face.

This feeling is new but it’s lovely. Gravity pulls you onto him and it feels as though he’s somehow even deeper than before. His hands at your ass fist at the flesh there and he tells you he’s going to help you, that you may be worn out and that’s okay, and as he helps you lift yourself upwards, you get the hang of it.

You plant your hands firmly on the expanse of his chest and drop yourself down before pushing yourself back up again. It helps to sit upright so you do, letting him hold you and watch you and god, his face is a picture.

He’s scrunching his nose again, eyes tight as he huffs each time you drop onto him. He’s droopy and blissful as you move up and down, circling your hips just a bit, letting him guide you. It burns after so long but it’s nothing compared to the warmth in your chest watching him near the edge. His stomach tenses, the muscles flexing between your thighs, as his breathing becomes more ragged. And suddenly his arms come up your back and pull you down flush and inside your walls, his cock sits as far in as he can push it. You feel him stiffen and shudder and the warmth as he comes inside, hugging you close, his forehead on your shoulder.

He warns you as he pulls out, and then you lie still, spent, limbs going soft together. The sky is a pale blue-green now, the sun soon to cross the horizon. You can hear birds, and the soft morning light coats your skin in a kind of effervescent glow.

Eddie’s breathing lulls you into a doze, but after a short while he stirs. The space between your core and his is sticky and damp and it’s uncomfortable for a short moment, until he tells you quietly that he’s going to get up and get a rag. He moves you softly onto your back and you sigh, a happy, contented sound, watching him move around your space so comfortably.

He returns from the water basin with a damp cloth, cleaning the remnants of your night from between your legs. You wince when he does, only because you’re tired and sore and the cloth is cold, but he apologises and kisses the inside of your knee.

“Eddie?”

He’s at the basin again, rinsing the rag. “Mhm?”

“Do you really think everyone will be gone until the afternoon?”

You catch him smiling at your question, like he knows what’s coming.

“If you want to play it safe, lets say noon.”

“And what time is it now?”

He looks over to the clock, which sits above your mantlepiece, ticking softly.

“Early,” is all he says. “Early enough.”

“Stay with me?”

He drops the rag over the side of the basin and pads over to you. The mattress dips as he rejoins you, this time lifting your sheets to bury the two of you beneath them.

“I told you,” he says quietly, kissing the peak of your shoulder and pulling you in, his arm around your waist, “I have all the time in the world for you.”

-

The castle is bustling. People rush here and there, carrying armfuls of floral arrangements, buckets of wine, heaving plates of food. Your home is lively and noisy and your mother is pacing, directing the placement of each bouquet and chair.

In your chamber, the noise seems far away. Your maids finish tying your corset and your shoe ribbons before filtering off to complete other tasks. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above your fireplace. Red really is your colour.

There’s a resolute knock at your door. The maids stand to attention and move out of your way as your knight pushes the doors open and you step through to the hall.

“Thank you, Dustin,” you say to him.

Your new knight, a replacement both for Eddie and for the man who took his place all those months ago, bows kindly at your regards. He’s young, younger than yourself and Eddie, but keen and worthy and you’re more than happy.

And then he appears, your beacon, a gorgeous vision of handsome beauty.

Eddie, Ser Munson, your knight. Or, rather, your former knight. He’s been promoted to fiancé.

He stands at the top of the stairs, looking back at you like you hung the stars. To him, you may as well have. You are all he has eyes for now, especially now, after giving up his duties and telling your father: Your daughter is my true and only duty.

“My god,” he breathes. You step over to him, too giddy to maintain any air of grace or class. Your step is more like skipping, your love for him giving you far too much energy to merely walk to him.

He holds his arm for you and you take it, leaning up on tip-toes to give him a chaste kiss to the cheek.

“How do you do it?” he says in a low voice, dipping his head so you can hear him as the two of you descend the stairs, Dustin in step behind you.

You’re smiling while you cling to his arm. “Hm?”

“How do you keep getting more beautiful?”

“Just think, Munson,” you say in a whisper, “By the time we’re one hundred, think of how beautiful I’ll be by then.”

“I dread to think,” he says sarcastically, squeezing your arm with his. You look up at him and the noise and fervour of the castle falls away. He looks back down at you and smiles, and it’s truly the only thing that matters.

The engagement party, your sisters, your parents, your birthright - what is any of it for, what does any of it mean, when you have the one thing you ever wanted?

-

author’s note  Hey! Thanks for reading (or scrolling all this way). It's been so long since I uploaded my last fic and I’ve been lurking ever since - I miss u all but there isn’t really any room in my life for writing anymore. I have loved doing this and thank you all so so much for reading everything! I’ll be about, so the blog will stay and you can read whatever you want whenever you want. I love ya, I’ll miss ya, see ya l8r!

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Hope you enjoy my newest Nightbound fanfic, Peacock Princess 🦚👑 Fantasy AU

Hello lovely!! I finally had the chance to read it and I adored it!! Such a fun idea! And that gif is perfection!! 👌🏼❤️🥰

[flamigoat]

New Fanfic In Progress!! :D 💖👑

Turns out writing Rabbid Peach and Princess Peach interacting is super fun!

I’ve got a new fanfic I’m working on focusing on future fan kids and relationships in my story. Same universe Phoebe’s in!! Oooo the intrigue!! You wanna read it so bad ooooooo~ /lh /silly 🪄⭐️

The fanfic will deal with Princess Peach being helped by Rabbid Peach during her pregnancy. She serves her as a companion during her pregnancy.

Relationships: Mareach (Mario x Princess Peach), Raypeach (Rayman x Rabbid Peach), and Implied Luaisy (Luigi x Daisy).

‼️⚠️Warnings for those kinds of themes if you’re uncomfortable with that! Pregnancy, talks of pregnancy, wanting kids etc. Not explicit, just in concept. ⚠️‼️

Here’s a little preview under the cut :

Flash forward to now and the pair of friends sat together on the balcony overlooking the palace gardens, enjoying their favorite cup of tea. Rabbid Peach was on her phone, scrolling through all the pictures filled with memories of her friend’s pregnancy. She made sure to document every moment, even if she had to cover it up as just wanting to take selfies. She knew how much Princess Peach would love to look back at them, especially when she was due so soon. Only the calming clinks of teacups and the tapping of Rabbid Peach’s fingers on her phonescreen broke their silence. It was nice. Enjoying a peaceful day with her best friend like this.

The rabbid’s attention drew back to her friend, when their eyes made contact it earned a huff of amusement from her. The princess hummed in response, continuing to sew little decorations into her ever-growing scrapbook. It was filled with pictures of her friends, tidbits of notes scattered about depicting things like how her day went, what she ate, and who she spent time with. Most importantly, telling her babies how excited all their aunties and uncles were to meet them. They were all one big family. A gigantic family of heroes. That warmed Rabbid Peach’s heart immensely to witness.

Looking at her now, her stomach was swollen, visibly pregnant. Wow. How fast time had flown by. The doctors knew she was going to be due soon, so she was confined inside the castle walls for now. It was heartwrenching, watching her friend sink deeply into the dread of boredom. At least the little distractions she put together were helping. Well, she hoped they were anyway.

Hmph. Now that she thought about it… Bowser hadn’t even tried to kidnap her in a long time. You’d think he would, especially considering she was way more vulnerable now than before. The entirety of the Mushroom Kingdom had been on edge about it, but every day there was a scare for one, he’d never come. Maybe he’d moved on? Or maybe he got the knowledge that it wouldn’t be cool to kidnap somebody pregnant? Heh! Whatever would get through that turtle’s thick skull. It is a lot quieter this way. More peaceful, a nice change of pace for the princess and her subjects.

“Hey, Rabbid Peach? Can I inquire you about something?”, Princess Peach spoke softly, a strangely serious tone to her voice.

“Bwahh! Sure thing! I told you Peach, you can just call me Peachy or Peaches. No need to be formal, we’re friends, remember? Besties! It’s okay!”

Her friend giggled at her, face crinkling with joy. Good. It was nice to let her friend loosen up now and then. Peaches couldn’t imagine what image it’d take to run a country constantly with no breaks inbetween. She would’ve gone crazy by now if she was in the princess’s place.

“My apologies, Peachy~. Is that better, dearie?”, the normally proper princess stuck her tongue out at her. The rabbid shot back a playfully annoyed look towards her friend, “Yep!”, her voice making a popping sound after the pronunciation of the p to emphasize her point. “So what’d you wanna talk about?”, amusement purred out of her throat.

Oh. This could be good. Some gossip the princess heard among her workers. Oooo! Maybe some drama from the other kingdoms?!? She had been hearing a certain green plumber she knew had been seen out with the princess of Sarasaland. Rabbid Peach sipped her tea eagerly, trying to prepare her thoat for a long session of juicy conversation. She’d need it. They could and have talked for hours before.

“Do you ever think you’ll want children?”, Peach purred out casually, earning a sudden coughing fit from her friend in surprise. Rabbid Peach choked on the half swig of her tea, battering her chest with a closed paw. Okay, she was not expecting that!!