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the-merry-otter · 2 years

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Plain text version with image descriptions is under the cut.

Please note that the image descriptions will be reflecting what I am trying to convey with the photo, rather than the total look of the photo itself. For example if I am trying to describe a dress, the hair colour of the person wearing it will be ignored. This is to reduce the total word count of the descriptions, because I have a lot of images to describe. On this note, I have also streamlined the information as much as possible.

[Plain text description:]

First slide: Mariota’s Guide to 14th Century (Medieval) Women’s Clothing

This slideshow is brought to you by @the-merry-otter on tumblr

ALRIGHT LISTEN UP MOTHERS AND FUCKERS. I’m bored, so today we’re going to be talking about medieval clothing. Specifically fourteenth century English clothing because that’s what I’m good at. (Source: trust me bro I’m a reenacter). Also this is all female stuff - sorry masc leaning folks, I’ll get to you someday!

Disclaimer: this is not completely comprehensive or nuanced in the slightest, it’s just a quick overview guide. Do your own research xoxo.

[Image ID: to the left is a picture of a woman in a light blue dress and a pink hood gazing out at a lake. The hood has a skirt that falls over her shoulders, and there is along thin pipe attached to the back of the hood that dangles to her knees. The edges of the hood are decorated with burgundy crochet. The picture is captioned “beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, literal goals.” End ID]

[Image ID: To the right is a picture of a typical renn faire outfit. It has a white poofy underdress, a black corset, and a brown skirt. There is a red cross drawn over the image. It is captioned “very pretty, but definitely not medieval sorry!” End ID]

Second slide: Underwear (ooh la la)

Now with nasty pocketses

[Image ID: a picture of gollum, from lord of the rings, snarling in disgust. There is a line in The Hobbit where he asks Bilbo what he has in his nasty little pocketses, which is what I am referencing. End ID]

So, corsets, stays, and shapewear in general kind of wasn’t a thing yet. So your underwear was a shift, which was awesome because it was also your pajamas. They were usually made of linen, though some might have been made of cotton is you were rich.

[Image ID: A plain white linen garment laid out flat on the floor. It is a dress that hangs to about knee length, with elbow length sleeves. An arrow points to it with text reading “this is a shift”. End ID]

There is evidence for supportive shifts for busy support, like this one from the fourteenth century!

[Image ID: a second shift, worn by a female presenting person. It is laced up the front, and is a lot tighter and more fitted, especially around the bust. It has straps instead of sleeves. End ID]

There’s also this bra like fragment found in Austria, but that is a whole debate so.

[Image ID: A bra-like garment fitted to a mannequin. It seems to be made out of white linen, coloured with time. The left cup is damaged, and overall the garment looks incomplete. End ID]

Then, over the shift, yet under your main dress went your pockets, which tied on at the waist. Your dresses had slits do that you could get at your stuff without flashing everyone lol.

[Image ID: A picture of medieval pockets. They are upside down teardrop shaped, but the point is flat and is part of the waist ties. There are slits in the side up the top to access the inside. They are cream coloured with bright floral embroidery. The caption reads “these bad boys can fit so many cool pebbles.” End ID]

[Image ID: A young female-presenting person wearing medieval clothing. She has her hands in the pocket slits of her dress. They are just below hip height. End ID]

Third slide: your dress, or the cotehardie. (Pronounced coat hardy)

Over the shift you put your dress, sometimes referred to as either a kirtle or cotehardie. 14th century people started actually form-fitting their clothes more than previous centuries. These needed fastenings, which were mostly lacings (spiral lacings specifically), or buttons made of either metal or cloth, used at the front of the dress from neckline to waist, and on the sleeves from elbow to wrist, with exceptions of course.

(Sidenote: fuck sleeves, all my homies hate sleeves)

[Image ID: a woman in a warm yellow dress to the left of the text. The dress is constructed simply, with a single piece of fabric used for the length of the body so there is no waist seam. The skirt is widened by inserting four triangles, one each at the front and back, and one on each side. The front has buttons made of the same fabric as the dress, that go down to the belt at the waist. The sleeves have similar buttons from wrist to elbow, on the outside of the arm. The woman is also wearing a liripipe hood. End ID]

Dresses seemed to be mostly wool, though I often use linen for mine because I live in Australia and it’s hot in summer and I don’t want to die. Most often they weren’t lined (that is what the underwear was for).

[Image ID: in the top left of the slide is a woman wearing a green woollen dress. It is constructed the same as the previous image, except it has spiral lacing on the front instead of buttons. The sleeves are fastened by three small buttons. She is wearing a simple and veil. End ID]

[Image ID: the top right of the slide shows a woman in a teal coloured dress, similar to the one before. This one has metal buttons at the sleeves and down the front. She wears a veil only. End ID]

The neckline of these dresses was usually round or an oval shape, and some manuscripts have it so wide that it falls off the shoulders slightly.

[Image ID: A photo of a medieval manuscript, depicting six medieval ladies in a row holding hands. The neckline of their dresses is wide enough that the tops of their shoulders are visible. The image is captioned “me and the girls on a Friday night”. End ID]

Clothing was a lot more colourful than the movies would have us believe lol.

[Image ID: Three women, each in dresses similar to the ones before. To the left is a forest green, the middle one is bright saffron yellow, and the one to the right is a vibrant tomato red. End ID].

Fourth slide: Dress two; electric boogaloo

[Image ID: Merry and Pippin from lord of the rings. Above them, meme text reads “we’ve had one, yes”, and then continues below with “but what about second dress?”. End ID]

You could also wear an overdress, which was usually of a contrasting colour and had shorter sleeves.

As well as fashion, they would have been used for extra warmth, and so were usually made of wool.

[Image ID: a woman in a maroon coloured dress like the ones on the previous slide. The sleeves stop just above her elbow, revealing a blue dress underneath. End ID].

Common people would have only owned a couple of different outfits, as fabric was super expensive.

[Image ID: various pictures of women with examples of an overdress. They are all constructed the same as the overdress, but with shorter sleeves that reveal a second sleeve of a different colour underneath. End ID]

A common late thirteenth to mid fourteenth century overdress was the ladies surcoat, which had big holes instead of sleeves.

Belts would have been worn underneath the surcoat.

[Image ID: three photos of women wearing surcoats. They are normal dresses, except there is a large D shape cut out of either side, leaving a large hole from the shoulder to below the hip. They have no buttons down the front. One of the surcoats is made of red brocade, and obviously belongs to an upper-class impression. End ID].

Fifth slide: Hair and headwear

Hair was worn braided and pinned up, with a coif (cap) and either a wimple or veil, or both. The wimple and/or veil were usually pinned to the coif, or secured on a band of fabric around the head.

Veils would be either oval, or a D shape. Wimples were rectangular. A wimple goes under the chin and a veil goes over your head.

[Image ID: a close up of a woman wearing a wimple. It is made of a light fabric, likely silk. The wimple wraps under her chin and is secured at the back of her head. A narrow band of fabric or possibly leather circles her brow, which would have been used to secure the wimple. End ID.]

[Image ID: A picture of YouTuber Morgan Donner wearing a wimple and veil. The wimple wraps under her chin, and the veil is placed on top of her head, draping down past her shoulders. It does not cover her face. Loops of hair are visible either side of her face. End ID]

All the headwear would be made of linen, thin wool, or silk, depending on class. The veils could also be made really fancy by ruffling the front edge or by attaching pearls.

[Image ID: a woman in a wimple and half-circle veil. The edge of the veil that frames her face is elaborately ruffled. The edge of a coif is visible under the veil. End ID]

I ride the bus in my medieval gear a lot because of events, and way too many people think I’m Amish because of my veil. It’s honestly just funny at this point. I should keep a tally.

[Image ID: a woman wearing a St Birgitta’s coif, pinning a wimple at the back of her head. The coif is a simple white linen cap that encloses the head, with a line of lace down the centre of the head. It is secured with a loop of linen around the head. End ID].

[Image ID: a picture of someone with plaits that have been pinned around the head like a crown. It is captioned “you could also pin your hair up like this”. End ID]

Working women might have just wrapped their head in a scarf instead, fuck this fancy shit right?

[Image ID: a woman in a headscarf that has been twisted and then looped around the front of her head. It is captioned #girlboss. End ID].

Fake braids were a thing! Blonde hair in particular was very fashionable, and bleaching or fake braids were sometimes used to achieve that.

[Image ID: two fake braids made of a coarse fibre. They are blonde in colour, and are looped like a hairstyle seen on many of the reenactors. They have white ribbons attached to the top end to help secure them to the head. End ID]

Sixth slide: Cloaks and hoods

These would have actually been two seperate garments! Integrated hoods on cloaks didn’t actually become a thing until the … seventeenth century or so? (Citation needed).

Cloaks were a lot simpler than the typical cloak we think of nowadays. Often they were just a rectangle of wool, or by the fourteenth century, sometimes a half circle.

They were almost always wool as far as I know, and were generally fastened by a cloak pin or buttons.

[Image ID: a metal cloak pin. It is a circle with a small opening at one point. A long pin is attached via a loop, allowing it to slide along the pin. It can fit through the opening in the circle. To use one, you would gather the fabric on the pin, and then slot the circle over the pin and then turn it, so the fabric is trapped between circle and pin. This is much easier to demonstrate than describe. The picture is captioned “these bad boys are the real MVP’s though”. End ID].

[Image ID: a diagram showing the construction of the bocksten man cloak. It is a half circle pieced together by laying strips of fabric together. In the centre of the flat side, a half circle is cut out for the neck. End ID]

[Image ID: a reconstruction of the bocksten man cloak. It is orange wool, and lined with an off-white linen. It is fastened on the right shoulder by three fabric buttons. It would fall to just above the wearers knees. End ID].

Women’s hoods could be short and open, or with a longer skirt and closed with buttons. Liripipe (pronounced leery-pipe) hoods were named for the tube of fabric that dangled off the back of your hood, varying in length. As well as a fashion statement, it could also be wrapped around the neck like a scarf if it got cold.

Hoods were nearly always wool I’m pretty sure, though they were often lined with linen, silk, or cotton.

[General description: a short liripipe hood would be open, with the bottom only reaching your shoulders. They were made from a single piece of fabric that would wrap over your head, with the seam down the centre back of your head. It was flared at the bottom by inserting triangular gores. At the front edge near your face there would be a strip jutting out that went from one side of your chin, over your head, and down to the other side. This would usually be folded back, revealing the lining colour. The bottom of the hood could either just reach the base of your neck, or reach down to just past your shoulders. The former would usually be open at the front, with fastenings optional. The latter option with the longer skirt was almost always able to be fastened up the front with fabric buttons. The liripipe itself was a thin flat tube of fabric fastened at the centre top back of the hood. End ID]

Fun fact, 90% of why I decided to reenact the fourteenth century specifically was because of liripipe hoods.

Seventh slide: Feet (not in a weird way)

Hose were used to keep your legs warm. For women they were usually knee height, and fastened just underneath it with a garter or tie.

[Image ID: a single light yellow hose, belted beneath the knee with a leather garter. The seam is down the centre back of the leg going all the way to your toes, and then around the top of the foot in front of where it connects to your leg. End ID]

Hose usually would have been made from wool, and were cut on the diagonal (bias) of the fabric to get the maximum stretch possible from the fabric. They still were looser than modern tights are though!

Knitted socks were also a thing I’m pretty sure, but I don’t know enough about them. Sorry!

Shoes were simple, usually referred to as turnshoes because of how they were made. Fun fact: the lack of foot support means that turnshoes are similar to going barefoot in terms of how you walk. Some reenactors love it, some hate it, and some are indifferent lol.

[Image ID: a pair of turnshoes made of dark leather. They have a strap that would fasten around the front of the ankle, similar to some modern shoes. The toes are pointed, and it is captioned “pointy toes were fashionable, especially for men”. End ID].

Because shoes were really hard to waterproof, (ask me how I know), and didn’t have solid soles, wooden pattens (pronounced pat-tens) were worn to keep you off the ground while outside.

[Image ID: a person wearing a pair of wooden pattens over their shoes, standing on a drenched cobblestone street. They are wooden platforms with an archway on the bottom, and are attached to the foot with leather straps around the toe, ankle, and around the back of the heel, similar to modern sandals. The image is captioned “ye old crocs”. End ID].

[Image ID: a woman’s leg with the skirts drawn back, revealing the bright yellow hose underneath. It is fastened below the knee with a strip of fabric. She wears a turnshoe with a buckled strap. End ID]

Eighth slide: Accessories

These are a few other items that might have made up a working woman’s outfit.

Aprons would definitely have been used while working. One were just a large rectangle of cloth tucked into the belt, some were smocked to draw in the fabric. They generally stopped at the waist.

[Image ID: a woman in a red dress, with a very light brown apron. It is smocked at the top, and is attached around the waist with a string. End ID].

Pretty broaches and other jewellery existed! There was cheaper stuff made of pewter for the lower classes.

[Image ID: five gold brooches, studded with different jewels and pearls. End ID].

They had a funny sense of humour as well… and they weren’t all prudes.

[Image ID: a pewter broach of a cat carrying a dick and balls in its mouth. It is captioned “you can actually buy these. I know a website.” End ID].

Eating knives were worn on the belt, though it is debated whether women would have carried one. I do because I’m a modern fourteenth century woman.

[Image ID: a small knife with a wooden handle, laying on top of a leather sheath that has been dyed red. End ID]

Belts are a curiously debated topic. Some people reckon that women would have definitely worn them, others say they they weren’t used by women much at all. As far as I know there are depictions of both, so choose what you’d prefer. They are great for hanging stuff on I gotta say.

[Image ID: a coiled up brown leather belt. The buckle and tip are a gold metal, and it has decorative flower studs along its length in the same metal. End ID]

Pretty little purses would have probably been worn. I don’t know enough about them to say anything else though.

[Image ID: two different pictures of reenactors wearing purses. One is brocade and the other a red fabric. They are in the shape of an upright triangle, and both have five tassels hanging from the bottom edge. They hang off the belt with long drawstrings. Unrelated to the purses, one of the women is wearing a gorgeous orange liripipe hood, that is embroidered and dagged on the bottom skirt edge. End ID]

Ninth slide: Fancy Shmancy

There is a lot I haven’t covered, especially in the realm of the upper classes. Here is some of what has been missed. (Buckle up because this section is very image heavy. I will be as concise as possible).

Heraldic dresses! If you are interested, go check out Morgan Donners video on YouTube.

[Image ID: a picture of Morgan Donner in her heraldic dress. One half of the dress is red, and the other is green, except for where it has been cut out by white with an ermine pattern on it. Her hair is unbound and uncovered, except by a small flower crown. It is captioned “Morgan bestie do your hair properly :(“. End ID]

[Image ID: a drawing of two women in heraldic dresses. The first has a blue right half with a yellow printed design. The top left of the dress is yellow with a blue fish, and the bottom left is red with a white fish. Her train is held by the second lady, who’s dress is blue on the right, and white with green birds on the left. End ID].

Fancy headpieces for rich bitches only.

[Image ID: a reenactor doing a high class impression. Her hair is bound up in Pearl studded hair nets on either side of her head like modern earmuffs, with a spiked coronet around her brow. She has a sheer silk wimple on. End ID]

Fancy dagged edged on hoods, sleeves, dresses, etc.

[Dagging description: where the edge has been cut away to make decorative dangly bits. One hood has red leaves around the bottom edge for example, and another just has a pretty geometric pattern. End description].

Brocade gowns! So pretty!

[Image ID: several different pictures of high class ladies wearing brocade gowns of different colours. These are similar to the wool dresses we were looking at earlier, but with longer trains, and often long draping sleeves. There is even a brocade surcoat. End ID]

Fancy sleeves!

[Image ID: examples of different long sleeves. On some, the sleeve is normal until the elbow, and then it falls away to a long strip of fabric that dangles to the ground. Not mentioned on the slide itself is tippets, which was a band of (usually white) fabric just above your elbow, with a thin strip of the same fabric that draped down to the floor. End ID].

Dresses that were two different colours.

[Image ID: examples of dresses that are exactly like the earlier wool dresses, except they are literally half one colour and half another. The manuscript example is a blue and red overdress with fancy sleeves, and the reenactor example is a yellow and green underdress with a red hood. End ID]

And of course, some of the funky fun fabric choices.

[Image ID: a manuscript depiction of a woman carrying a dead bird. Her hood is red and white striped horizontally, and her dress is dark and light blue striped, also horizontally. End ID].

[Image ID: a manuscript depicting a woman talking to a second lady in a chair. The dress on the first has horizontal stripes of white, red, yellow, and blue, repeated, and the second has horizontal stripes of white, pink, and light blue. Interestingly enough the latter colours are very similar to the transgender flag which would make a very cool dress project. Hmm. End ID].

Tenth (and final) slide: In summery

(Small red text below title reads “I hope you have enjoyed” with a drawn smiling face).

Dis you notice all the “usually” “commonly” and “often’s” in there? That’s because I cannot possibly illustrate everything that we know of the time in only ten slides, nor do I know everything, so I have just tried to show what seems to be the most depicted.

Note: I probably even got some stuff wrong by the way.

If you’re interested in this stuff, I really recommend doing your own research now! Hopefully I have given you a good overview of what a fourteenth century womens outfit might have looked like, so now you can go fourth and know what you’re looking for.

If you have any questions about costuming, reenactment, or anything else, feel free to contact me!! I respond on Timblr decently fast ☺️

[Image ID: a reenactor sitting on a log, staring into the distance with a slight smile. She is wearing a grey-blue dress, belted at the waist with a small purse dangling from it. She has a dark blue cape and a light blue hood, that has fallen back to show a ruffled white veil. There is a pewter broach on her hood. A leather turnshoe peeks out from beneath the hem of her dress. End ID]

A list of helpful YouTubers:

Elin Abrahamsson

Morgan Donner

Opus Elenae

Miss Joss (her instagram is more active).

Now go hydrate!!

[Image ID: a woman in fourteenth century garb drinking from a jug. End ID]

#medieval reenactment #historical reenactment #medieval #medievalcore #medieval aesthetic #14th century #sewing #fashion #clothing #history #historical #sca #i’ll be on my merry way now

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buckyalpine · 1 year

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Virgin Mob Bucky

Welcome to my horndog ramblings. Feel free to ignore this. You know what I need? Big badass Beefy Mob Bucky who is a virgin. Beefy mob Bucky who waited till marriage. Yes. Bucky who followed in his fathers exact footsteps, easily earning his place when he takes over the empire. He learnt about power, discipline and strategy from his father. He learnt about love, kindness and beauty from his mother. He mama raised him to wait for the right one, to wait until he was with someone he truly loved, someone he was ready to spend his life with, just as she had done with his father.

So he does.

I need this beautiful beefy man to feel shy for the first time in his life when its his wedding night and he has to help his wife out of her wedding dress. He's usually so confident but his hands shake when he feels the softness of her skin. I need him to feel nervous when she starts to unbutton his shirt. It's not like he's never been shirtless before but this is different. He hopes she doesn't feel the extra warmth of his skin as her fingers trace over the dark ink that covered his chest when she slips the shirt off. He doesn't know what to do with himself, seeing her in delicate white lace hardly covering her breasts.

Don't even get me started on how precious and flustered he is when his brief's come off and she sees all of him for the first time. He's not small by any means, his thick shaft curving towards his tummy, full heavy balls between is gorgeous large thighs. He can't help but feel self-conscious because no one else has seen him like this, not since he was a baby.

He has to will himself not to cum when they're both naked on his large bed, innocently exploring each others bodies with soft kisses in-between. I want him to lose himself when he pulls her nipple into his mouth, for his cock to start to leak. Her breasts are so soft and he could spend all night kissing and suckling off her. She gently palms him, wrapping her hand around his shaft, kissing down his neck while he nearly whines, humping into her fist.

He carefully slips his hands between her legs and he swears he's never felt anything more soft, more silky, her slick covering the insides of her thighs, that swollen button between her legs begging for attention.

She moves to lay on her back, spreading her legs to get him better access and he has no idea what to do when she displays her most intimate parts just for him. He takes his time finding out what she likes, rubbing her clit so carefully with the pads of his fingers before dipping into her entrance, moaning along with her when she drips onto him.

He never sounded more desperate, whimpering when she kisses down his body, his breaths growing heavier when she nears his cock. He lets out the might high pitched whine when she licks up his arousal, his length throbbing against her tongue.

Imagine his soft sweet babbles, his needy side showing which surprises himself-

"Hng-

"What is it Jamie"

"Mmmm"

"Tell me baby, what is it, am-am I doing okay?" She worries while he moans and squirms unable to form a complete sentence.

"It feels good prinţesă- just-it feels s'good"

"Do you like it?" She asks shyly, peeking at him through her lashes, already addicted to her husbands sweet taste. She loves how heavy he feels in her mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked.

"You're making me leak dragă" He whispers with flushed cheeks, his adorably innocent face a stark contrast to his absolutely sinful body.

He already so gone, his mind turns into mush when he's finally inside her. He lets out the most guttural moan as he slides inside, his heavy body covering her, thick cock throbbing, ready to blow.

"I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against her neck before he even gets the chance to move, taking a deep breath to collect himself and calm down. This baby isn't going to last long, hugging and cuddling his wife tightly while he ruts into her, moaning about how perfect she feels, dripping into her already soaked cunt. a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping her full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with her, still buried deep in her cunt, their mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing her ass to keep her flush against him, moaning into the crook of her neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

He had no idea sex could feel this good, already addicted to the feeling, falling in love with his perfect wife even more.

Maybe at some point in the middle of the night they fuck again and he accidently calls her mommy when she rides his cock, her breasts bouncing in his face.

He learns he has a very subby side.

Then he grows more confident and when the house is empty, he has her wailing for daddy's cock while he eats her like a man starved.

Anyway, I'm sorry for this, back to wips.

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thehauntedetheral · 2 months

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That, “After all I am just a girl 🎀”, sent me! LOL! It’s such a fat fucking mood I have 24/7

So follow up request, how about a Hyper/Extreme Masculine Man x Hyper/Extreme Feminine Woman Reader

Give me someone who is wholesomely sexist that is so damn fine that the red flags start to look green

Hello! Thank you for your love. Glad that you liked my work. I hope you like my writing. This is my first time writing something like this so please be kind. I hope you love this. Enjoy!

Yandere Sexist X Reader

Requests are open!

• You and yan dated throughout the college and after graduation he proposed you. You were madly, irrevocably and passionately in love with him.

• Yan Husband who is a toxic sexist who is a excellent manipulator. He tells you after marriage how his parents were a traditional gender role household meaning husband being the bread winner and leader of house while wife being a good pretty house wife. He wants to try it. You were reluctant at first but after enough manipulation and sugar coating you agreed. After all this man is an excellent manipulator.

"Baby please just try it for me. If you don't feel good after doing this for a month we will stop it. You had been working so hard throughout the college. You can relax a bit by this and can also take a break and get the time to do all those hobbies and stuff you were interested in doing but couldn't due to college work. We have just got married why so eager for a job? Settle down have some rest. I have a very good paying job to provide for both baby. Please try this for me love?" He would say while holding your face delicately in his hand and looking at you with his gorgeous hazel eyes.

• You slowly started to delve into it. Baking, cooking meals, taking care of him and house and decorating, doing household chores, gardening vegetables, beautiful flowers and loving it.

• He was slowly brainwashing you into his little pretty house wife without you knowing.

"Baby you don't have to think about anything I will take care of everything. Hmm? You know I love you and will take care of you."

• You were a definition of hyper feminine now. Long forgotten your old ambitious about your career self in college.

• Pretty Ribbons in your long hairs, delicate cute dresses, High heels, make up on, hosting parties for his colleagues, shopping, baking, reading, trying new recipes, doing house chores while waiting for your husband to come home were now part of your daily routine.

• Yan and you you would go out for dinners and if somebody looked at you a little long he would break their bones. After all you were his wife and wouldn't allow a weird creep to stare at you.

• He was the provider and you were his pink pretty princess housewife whom he loves to dead.

• Will shower you with gifts like vacations, jewellery, dresses.

• Yan Husband who is dominant in your married life and in bed.

• Yan Husband who is a toxic manipulator sexist who will make you totally dependent on you to make sure you don't run away from him ever.

"You need me baby as much as I need you. I am your husband I know what is best for us."

"You contribute to the household by taking care of me so good which helps me to do my job properly and soon you will be the mother of our beautiful children, darling."

• Looking at his handsome face with beautiful eyes oozing masculine energy always made you forget everything.

• You know your husband is always right and will take care of you.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

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fanaticsnail · 10 months

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Mistletoe - Straw-Hat Christmas Special

Masterlist link FanaticSnail here, SordidMusings here Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, and Happy Mistletoe Kisses. Song Suggestion: Snowman - Sia

Word count: 7,000+

Warnings: Fluff, Mistletoe, GenderNeutral!Reader (written by afab!collab!author), kissing, pining, unhinged photoshop.

Beta-Read and Collab with the ever gorgeous, stunning and beautiful @sordidmusings.

Clutching the small sprig of emerald leaves and small circular blossoms tightly within your left hand, you reached down to the bench where you last left your scissors to clasp them within your right fingertips. The tan-coloured twine within your mouth scratched at your tongue and lips as you held the string tightly between your teeth, brow low and focussed in your concentration.

You pressed your left hand within the air, your crouched position becoming slightly uneven and shaken as you attempted to maneuver yourself in your perch.

After seeing the bushels and sprigs of festive greenery from your homeland, you knew you wanted to introduce this part of your seasonal culture to your crew: the Straw-Hat pirates.

Mistletoe-kisses. The tradition first begun by the mother of your cultural and historical deities as she held her dying child within her arms, wistfully memorialising his memory with sweet endearing affection beneath the object that claimed his life. Poetic, dramatic, beautiful and romantic; the four combinations you so desired to introduce to your pirate companions as you started decorating the banisters and rudders. The beautiful branches were woven so intricately within the scraps of twine you managed to fasten around them.

“Woah, honey,” you heard the familiar feminine voice call from behind you as you continued to wabble on your position perched against the blue kitchen benchtop, “let me give you a hand.”

“Yesh preesh,” you managed to squeak out from your clenched jaw, welcoming Nami’s assistance with her hands steadying your hips from behind you. With the additional stability, you managed to wrap the twine from within your mouth around the sprigs, snip the cords with the scissors and successfully secure the sprigs with more ease.

Sighing with glee, you brought your hands down to rest atop your orange-haired companion; allowing her assistance to dwindle further against your hips as she aided your decline from the benchtop.

“What are you doing, anyway?” she asked as you turned to face her, remaining close in your proximity, “I’ve seen you skulking around the ship with the branches and tying them up against the-,” she halted her words as she glanced up to the ceiling, her train of thought falling silent as her smile broadened against her pale face with a glow of pink warmth falling to the apples of her cheeks.

“-Mistletoe,” she breathed out with a large sigh, the warmth rising to your own chest, cheeks and ears in bashful hesitancy. Her eyes fell from her gaze at the sprigs to search your eyes with her own. Her broadened grin and softened eyes twinkling with mischief searched yours, as your own reflected a similar playful mirror against her gaze.

“Yes it is,” you nodded your head, eyes drawing to the floor with your teeth pulling your bottom lip between them with your heart beating faster within your chest. “Are you aware of the tradition?” you asked her, trailing your eyes coyly back upwards to meet with her own.

You heard footsteps approaching the kitchen entranceway, but paid them no mind as Nami brought her hand against your cheek with her nose scrunched in a playful smile. You placed the twine and the scissors down against the blue-coloured kitchen counter while your gaze held firm against her own.

“I am fully aware,” she teased you with her tone, “and now that you’ve caught me in your little trap, I suppose you’d like a kiss?”

Your lips pulled outwards further to widen the enthusiastic grin into your cheeks, allowing her to lead you by your cheek to draw you into her embrace . Falling your hands against her hips, she drew her other hand up to cradle your neck as she drew her lips to graze against your own.

Her lips were soft and warm, the taste of tangerines and cinnamon from the tart Sanji had made for the crew’s afternoon tea lingered against her lips. The both of your eyes fluttered shut, you drawing her closer to your body by her hips and raking your hands over her lower back to cradle her against you securely. She smiled into the kiss, her head tilting as she parted her lips gently to deepen the caress of her lips against your own.

She slowly moved her hands from your face to circle behind your neck to secure the embrace further as you engaged each other beneath the mistletoe.

Footsteps halted with a large thud, followed by the vocalizations to alert you of disruptive attention to break your silent and intimate moment with the navigator.

“Oh, what the fuck-,” a gruff voice uttered lowly.

“-Merde,” a whisper followed closely behind.

Nami and you broke away your lips, still holding yourselves in the warm embrace of one another. A small warmness rose itself to the both of your cheeks, followed by a small giggle of mischievousness at your crewmen’s responses to your current state.

Being the first to pull away from you, Nami made her way over to the swordsman and the chef at the doorway; leaving you to collect the twine and scissors from their place atop the kitchen counter.

“What d-did we-,” Sanji’s voice attempted to squeak out, his vocal chords failing him in their articulation of his thoughts, “y-you, the two of you-, you-u b-both-,” he gulped back his words a small fine bead of sweat pooling from his brow as Nami approached him.

“Kissing?” Nami arched her brow up with a playful grin atop her partially swollen lips. Sanji nodded frantically with his eyes widening in surprise.

Zoro shook his head and made his way over to approach the sink behind where you were standing, his hands firmly securing a glass to fill water to the brim within. He grunted at you as you darted your tongue out to trace your lower swollen lip with a mischievous smirk again pulling at your lips.

She looked once more to seek out your gaze with her own; suggesting playfully, “feel free to educate these two on the tradition, I’m sure at least one of them has never heard of it.”

Nami giggled at Sanji’s rising blush against his cheeks and nose, shaking her head while pushing past him to maneuver her body behind his and giving him a gentle push towards you.

“Bonus points if you manage to get them both under it together,” her giggle prompted a blush to flush completely against your cheeks before loud laughter rose within your chest at her suggestion, shaking your head and bundling your crafting objects within your hands.

You opened the drawer below the kitchen counter, placing the scissors and twine within the vacant wooden box and shutting it back in a swift movement. Feeling a presence beside you, the warmth falling from his bare arm against your own, he hunched himself against the bench frame.

Sighing with a smile again falling to your face, you turned to meet with the hazelnut-coloured gaze of the green-haired swordsman.

“Zoro,” you shook your head at him and clicked your tongue, “you shouldn’t have come over here. Now you have no choice but to participate in the tradition.”

His brows furrowed into a frown at your words, questioning, “Tradition?”

You anchored your chin upwards to gesture to the sprigs of florals and leaves attached against the bannisters of the kitchen.

“There’s a few origins of this particular tradition,” you began, the swordsman’s eyes falling back to your own as more footsteps began falling within the dining room and kitchen: Usopp, Luffy and Nami returning to the kitchen with a grin attached firmly against the orange-haired navigator’s lips.

“Go on,” Zoro commanded you in his gruff voice.

“Well, the long and short of it,” you began with a shrug of your shoulders, “is if you find yourself beneath the branches of mistletoe, well,” your index finger traced along the wooden countertop to ghost themselves against the tips of Zoro’s fingers, “you kiss.”

Your eyes searched his own, his left brow arching up as he questioned you, “Why, though?”

“There’s a few origins around the east blue,” you began, “one was introduced as a custom at weddings, mainly because they drew comparisons with the white flowers to-, uh-, male fertility if you follow my intention.”

A blush almost graced the face of the swordsman at the reference he followed with your words, a slow blink ridding the hue from his face.

“Another was to offer a ceasefire in war,” you continued, your fingers now brushing the outer forearm and traveling upwards to rise to his shoulder, “reconciliation and peace between enemies at the receiving end of a branch, lips meeting in surrender.”

He hummed in response, his eyes briefly gracing your trailing fingertips before falling back to your own.

“And why do you, personally, choose to follow the tradition?” he asked you, brows furrowing before a small grin rose to his lips, “peace, reconciliation, or fertility?”

Your voice caught within your throat, his words halting your movements as your eyes widened at his suggestion.

“None, in truth,” you whispered, your eyes searching his again by darting your gaze between his woody-hues, “to me and those like me; the tale follows the goddess of old. She introduced the kiss as a memorial to her fallen and beloved son; who perished under an arrow crafted from the sprigs of the branches and white flowers.”

“I carry this tradition as a reminder that we are all mortal and may perish at any time,” your hand drew itself against the swordsman’s shoulder, his chin tilting down to glance at your hand once more. He turned to face his broad chest towards you, his hand tracing the back of your own in a small, dancing and timid caress.

“That,” you smiled with a slight glint of mischief falling to your eyes, “and ensnaring the lot of you throughout the ship seemed like a fun idea at the time.”

“Well,” Zoro shrugged with a small shy smile drawing itself to his lips, glancing once again upwards at the mistletoe above the two of you, “what kind of swordsman would I be if I was to shy away from a reminder of my mortality?” his gaze fell low to your eyes once more, a broader smile falling now to his face, uttering a simple: “Come here.”

A squeak fled from your mouth as Zoro circled his arm around your neck and drew you against his broad chest, lips colliding in a dance of dominance with the green-haired swordsman. Your eyes remained wide as you witnessed him furrow his brows with a sharp inhale through his nose, feeling the warmth and passion falling from his chapped and coarse lips. You placed your hands gently against the exposed chest of the swordsman beneath his opened collar, still falling in momentary surprise at the unwithheld expression in front of the crew.

Your fingertips trailed absent-mindedly along the silver-tipped healed scar embellishing his broad chest, your eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his chin upwards and raised his right hand to cradle your cheek. His broad and widened fingertips wove themselves within your hair behind your head. A small hum fell from the lips of the swordsman as he was the first to pull himself away from your lips, resting his forehead against your own.

“Thank you for the reminder,” he whispered against your face, a small blush flushing his cheeks before he pulled away from your embrace and reclaimed his waterglass in his hands once again.

You giggled, giving Zoro a gentle tap on his shoulder before turning around to draw yourself your own water-glass and taking a small shaken sip as you processed the haste of collecting kisses from two of your crewmen with ease. Nami and Zoro, the two of the Straw-Hat pirates you would assume would be the most difficult to ensnare, were the first recipients of your cultural tradition.

You spun on your heel to see the three remaining members of your crew; Luffy holding a broad smile against his cheeks with his eyes upturned with a mischievous glimmer.

“What a nice tradition,” he exclaimed with a light huff of his chest, his hands falling to his hips before looking at Sanji, “Now, can we eat?”

“Aye, Captain,” Sanji’s voice chimed in, his eyes wide as he gawked at your place next to the swordsman beside you, “any requests?”

“Meat,” Luffy smiled broadly, “and lots of it.”

“Why am I not surprised?” he chuckled, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbow as he marched over towards the sink.

You ducked your body away from beneath the mistletoe’s snare, prompting Sanji to shoot you a small wink as he brushed his way past you. You noticed he seemed to be lingering beneath the small bushel as he began commencing preparations to adhere to his Captain’s request. You giggled a little, shaking your head at the chef’s wordless flirtation before turning to see Usopp with his eyes wide, staring at you as he stumbled backwards.

“H-hey there,” he started, his voice stuttering as his attention continued to be drawn on you, “uh, how many of those things did you say you hid around here again?”

You giggled with a small arch of your left brow.

“Oh, great Captain Usopp,” you began to prowl as a hunter against their prey, a broad smile rising to your lips, “the ship is simply riddled with mistletoe.”

He chuckled nervously as he continued backing away from your descent towards him.

“A-and what happens if you don’t kiss beneath it, again?” his heart began to hammer within his chest with a drum-like rapidity, to which he was certain everyone could hear its intense beat.

“Oh, Usopp,” you sighed at him, cocking your head to the side with your hands laced behind your back, “I’m afraid bad luck and unspeakable horrors will haunt you to the very ends of your days.”

Usopp’s throat became overwhelmed by the sense of peril, his breath hitching within his mouth as his eyes widened further.

“That,” you continued with a small nod of your head, “and I would be incredibly offended.”

He shrugged off his shoulders with a small rotation and a huff of his breath, nodding at you as he processed your words.

“Okay then,” he nodded with a small, down-turned smile, “let’s do it.”

Your eyes widened as he began his descent towards you in a deep stoop; yourself leaning backwards in response to his tumble towards your lips.

“Usopp, stop,” you ordered him, him halting immediately in his actions as his brows twitched into a small frown. You huffed a small laugh and gestured above your head, indicating for him to look above his head.

“There’s nothing there, sharp-shooter,” you giggled, “there’s no need for a kiss, at least at this stage.”

He relinquished a small laugh from within his throat as a blush rose itself to his cheeks in embarrassment.

“Oh, I see,” he commented with a swaying nod, “so it’s only when you’re directly beneath the branch that you kiss. I got it.”

You clapped a hand atop his shoulder in support, your thumb caressing small circles in reassurance to smooth over his minor embarrassment. He raised his own hand up to squeeze his fingertips against your outer wrist, acknowledging and appreciating your gesture with a small, crooked grin.

“I mean,” you shrugged, withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, “you could always run away?”

“The great Captain Usopp running away from a fight?” he snickered, “oh, I would never.”

You both laughed whole-heartedly at the comment, you pulling Usopp into you by circling your arm over his shoulders and leading him back into the kitchen while Sanji continued preparing the meal.

Sanji’s gaze would continue to flutter towards you, whether intentionally or subconsciously, throughout the evening meal as the crew partook it together. His dwindling smile would rise and fall, questions unspoken remaining behind his lips to not depart from his pierced tongue.

“So once you kiss beneath it once, does that mean you’re safe in that zone from another one? Like the bad luck and horrors won’t get you if you’ve already kissed beneath it” Usopp rose his question up as he reached for a baked roll.

“Oh, Usopp,” you laughed at him, “try not to overthink it.”

You passed him the ceramic dish containing a knob of whipped butter, him nodding to you and taking it from your outstretched hands.

“It’s meant to be a bit of fun, nothing serious,” you informed him with a tone of reassurance.

You all concluded your meal engaging in questions regarding other aspects of cultural traditions: Sanji and Luffy primarily focussing on cuisine practices over holiday periods while the chef’s descriptors of the food had all of your mouths watering in anticipation and longing.

After the meal had come to an end, Sanji began expertly stacking dishes within his arms and bringing them to the sink. You smiled warmly at the blonde chef, his own warmth rising to his face as he darted his eyes between your two orbs.

“Who’s on first watch tonight?” Zoro’s voice cut through the air, your attention falling to his form at the dinner table.

“I believe it’s mine, swordsman,” you informed him with a nod, rising to your feet, “thank you for the meal, chef. It was as wonderful as always.”

“You’re most welcome, beautiful,” his nose scrunched at the bridge with a smile rising upwards to bare his pearled teeth to you.

Turning to walk on your way exiting the kitchen, you turned to land your eyes back to your crew; pausing for a moment to commit the sight to memory. The evening had a warmth from the sea air, the scents of the meals mixing beautifully with the cleaning products Sanji began to fill the sink with.

Your captain sighed in contentment, patting his stomach with praises of his own aimed at the chef. Laughter from Nami and Usopp, alongside the small smirk rising to the Zoro’s lips had you sighing in adoration. Nodding at the scene laying before you, you again turned to make your way back outward to begin your watch.

After your peaceful and lengthy watch concluded, you travelled below decks to meet with Usopp; the secondary watch for the evening to inform him of the lack of events that fell upon the night. He nodded to your words, his arms stretching upwards cracking his back in an arched shape.

“I’m sorry second watch has to be you today,” you winced out in pity, “it’s always the roughest, watching the sun rise as you only had a few hours sleep yourself is exceptionally difficult.”

“I agree,” he nodded his head with a small, tight-lipped smile, “it’s not my favourite, that’s for sure.”

You giggled, cupping his shoulder in response and giving it a small squeeze.

“Now, go get some rest,” he ordered you in a low tone, you nodding and stretching in a similar manner he did moments ago; your chin drawing upwards to the ceiling as your eyes remained closed.

Reopening your tired eyes, your sights met with the familiar small beads of the mistletoe you had forgotten you placed within the crew-quarter corridor; just as Usopp stepped outwards to draw himself into the hallway to begin his watch.

“Usopp,” you whispered, reclaiming the attention of the sharp-shooter, “look up.”

His eyes rose to the ceiling, widening as his gaze located the haunting florals amongst the emerald leaves.

“Wh-what does that-,” his words were halted as you placed a small, lazy kiss against the apple of his cheek. You hummed against his cheek briefly, your lips curling upwards into a smile before withdrawing your lips from his smooth skin.

“That should be enough to satisfy the bad luck and unspeakable horrors for now,” you smirked at him with half-lidded, glazed and tired eyes, “until the morrow, Great Captain Usopp.”

You offered him a lazy two-fingered salute before you turned away from him to begin your journey to your own crew-quarters; only for your actions to be halted by a firm grip within the crook of your elbow. Tugging lightly on your inner arm, your body rotated in a twirl once again to fall beneath the mistletoe with Usopp, his own eyes half-lidded as he drew you towards himself.

“I think a little more might be needed to halt their advance,” he grinned at you, falling his lips against your own in the dimly lit hallway.

You sighed against his warm lips, your arms raising to lazily circle behind his neck to hold his embrace firmly against your own. Your fingers brushed his hair, your fingers weaving against his scalp and lightly raking it under your tired grip. He fell his hands to your hips before dragging them against your lower back, drawing your hips inwards to hold them flush against his own.

Gasping against his lips, you again hummed in response to his open-lipped advance on you as he anchored his chin down to release your lips from his entanglement; his forehead pressing gently against your own brow.

“They’re satisfied now, I think,” Usopp commented with a small whispered sigh.

“And it’s all thanks to the Great Captain Usopp,” you whispered your praise in return, withdrawing your arms from his neck and he in turn unlacing his arms from circling your waist.

You waved him a good night as you again turned on your way towards your quarters to begin your much needed rest to prepare yourself for another day aboard the Going Merry with your crew of misfits.

Shrugging off your clothes for the evening, you placed your shoes neatly by the front door and scuttled into the warmth of your plush duvet atop your suspended bed. The chains attached to the ceiling rattled slightly as you rolled into a more comfortable position; your eyes closing as you released a small giddy giggle. You managed to capture three of your crewmen beneath the mistletoe within the first day, and you could not wait to draw in the remaining two with a friendly kiss.

Sleep welcomed you into its awaiting arms, the energy slipping from you as you fell into its embrace before welcoming the rays of the dawn through your curtained bay window. Sitting up in your bed, you allowed the sheets to fall from your torso as the duvet fell to your waist. Arms raised in an arched stretch, you thought back on the three, technically four, kisses you had shared with your crewmen the day before. Nami felt so soft against you, her femininity and playful charm held you captive as you both giggled against one another’s lips.

Zoro was rough, his lips chapped and dominant with the same amount of playful energy Nami had presented you with. Both of them held you so strongly cradled against their torsos, whereas Usopp’s embrace was slow and deliberate. The way he held you, his hands falling to your hips and lower back was foreign; you truly taking charge of that exchange.

A giggle once again fell to your lips as you threw the duvet from your lower body, stepping out to fall your bare feet to the wooden floorboards.

While adorning your sleepwear, you collected several new clothes for the day; setting to take a small dip beneath the warm rainfall of the Going Merry’s shower before commencing breakfast with the Straw-Hat crew.

You placed your slippers upon your feet, walking with a spring in your step down the hallway towards the bathroom. The sizzle of frying foods and bubbles of rapid boiling were the sounds echoing into your ears, their origins falling to the kitchen where Sanji was currently awake and preparing food for the crew.

“That poor boy never sleeps,” you whispered with a forlorn expression rising to your brows. You shook your head, your hand falling to the brass handle of the bathroom door and clicking the latch open with your thumb.

As you opened the door, your eyes immediately widened as your vision met with the dressed down version of your captain: white towel clung to his hips, his dark curls littered with glimmering droplets falling to the ends of his locks, toothbrush in hand as he vigorously scrubbed at his broad smile.

“Mfph!” he smiled with his toothbrush hanging from his lips, “guhd mmrh-nng!”

Held frozen in place, you witnessed your captain finish brushing his teeth; relinquishing the peppermint suds from his lips by rinsing his mouth with the cool water from the sink.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked you, placing his toothbrush back onto the counter beside the toothpaste, “How was your watch? I bet it was pretty boring, but thanks for doing it anyway. You know-.”

He brushed his hands over the towel clasped against his hips, you continuing to remain frozen in place as your eyes screamed at you to not look any lower than his own caramel orbs. You were not accustomed to seeing your captain in such a way. Exposure of his chest was one thing, but the way the towel hung so loosely from his hips was not something you were familiar with.

“-I really enjoy how you’re sharing your customs with the crew,” he nodded while walking over to your position at the door, “it’s nice.” You gulped in a dry mouthful of collected saliva, your wide eyes blinking with a slow joining of your lashes.

“Oh, here’s one!” he suddenly chimed in with a cheery grin, “look up,” he chuckled with a broad smile, his right hand falling beneath your chin to angle your wide eyes upwards. Innocently hanging from the doorframe of the entrance to the bathroom, the green petals taunting you amongst the white clusters of soft bulbs.

“I don’t remember putting one there,” you muttered quietly beneath your breath. Angling your chin down to meet again with the caramel eyes of your captain, his irises twinkling with a glimmer of mischief.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he murmured, his face inching all the more closely towards your own, “I may have moved some of them-,” he scrunched his nose, brushing it against your own in a small, playful caress, “-I can’t let you have all the fun.”

Holding your chin firmly, he drew you in to capture your lips with his own. He tasted of peppermint toothpaste, his lips curling into a small smile as he hummed against your lips. Your hands instinctively flew to his dark curls, lacing your fingertips against his scalp and holding him firmly against your body.

He leant forwards, dropping your chin from his grasp and opting to lace them behind your back and pull you in for a light squeeze, lifting you into the air with ease. You squeaked out a small tone of surprise at the motion, his lips giggling against yours as he spun you within the air; gasps falling from the two of you as he replanted your feet onto the ground.

He closed his lips against yours, withdrawing a little before pressing one more chaste kiss against your lips.

“Good luck finding the rest,” he whispered, his eyes half-lidded with a small chuckle falling from his lips as he unwove himself from around you, “I’m gonna keep them up, I think. It’s a healthy team-building exercise.”

He scrunched his nose one last time, exiting the bathroom doorframe and turning one last time to look at you. His hand wove around the brass door handle, pulling it closed with a small wink falling from the eye atop his scarred cheek.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you let out a breath you didn’t think you were holding within your chest, hand falling back to clutch the sink and bearing the brunt of your weight against the porcelain surface.

“That was,” you whispered, drawing your other hand up to rake your fingers through your hair, “a little more than I expected from him.”

You turned to look in the cloudy mirror, gazing into your own eyes with a wide grin.

“Four down, one to go,” you giggled before your laughter fell from your lips eclipsed by a perplexed frown, “and the last one was truly who I thought would be the easiest to convince to adhere to the little tradition.”

After you completed your shower, you joined the crew for breakfast; merriment and laughter falling from your lips as the crew spoke again about the traditions of their own cultures. Your eyes travelled around the rigging of the deck of the ship, noticing several sprigs of mistletoe you had tied against the bannisters had mysteriously disappeared: no doubt your captain making true on his earlier statement of moving the sprigs and twine around the ship to hold you equally as susceptible to fall beneath the trap as the rest of the crew.

Your emptied plate was collected from in front of you, the bare forearms of the blonde chef drawing down to claim the plate. His sleeves were once again rolled to the crook of his elbow, the relinquishment of his regular formality drew a warm smile to your face.

“Thank you, Sanji,” you praised him in thanks, folding your hands into your lap to make it easier for him to collect the items before you, “your skilled hands never cease to amaze me.”

A warm blush drew itself to his nose and cheeks, the blonde locks falling further to shield his eyes from you. You turned your sights to the orange-haired navigator who shot you a playful taunting expression, her eyebrow raising with her chin gesturing to the chef.

“Him next?” she wordlessly depicted her question with her lips. You nodded in response, biting your lip as you watched her search the deck with a perplexed expression.

You followed her gaze, noticing the lack of mistletoe adorning the area that you painstakingly attached to the wood the day before. You furrowed your brows, noticing a trail of sprigs falling against the top mast of the crows nest.

“Well done, Luffy,” you whispered in awe, staring at the sprigs; the chef halting his collection of food-smeared plates to follow your eyes. He chuckled once his gaze fell to the floral arrangement hanging from the flag above the crows nest.

The crew began to rise from their seated positions around the external table, all dispersing to complete their various roles around the ship: leaving Zoro behind as he reclined against one of the wooden benchtops, closing his eyes with his arms supporting his head. As you stood from the table, your eyes trailed once again to the top mast of the ship, squinting to get a better look at the arrangement with your right hand rising to your brow to shield the morning rays of the sun from your vision.

“So,” a voice murmured from behind you, prompting you to turn to welcome the chef back above deck, “is there a distance rule for the mistletoe-?” his smirk pulled at the right hand corner of his mouth, “-or would it still count if I just-?”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, hoisting you up into his strong arms and walking you to the tall, wooden pillar supporting the roped ladder leading upwards to the look out. A giggle rose within your chest as your back was pressed against the smooth wood, Sanji’s forehead resting in the crook of your neck. He chuckled against your shoulder before withdrawing his face from your skin and gazing into your eyes.

“I think there’s a distance rule here,” you giggled at him, gesturing with your chin up towards the roof. The view of the mistletoe was now obscured by the base of the crows nest, the wooden planks falling within view now rather than the cluster of leaves and flowers.

Sanji let out a small groan in frustration, his smirk falling from his lips as he placed your feet back onto the ground.

“And here I thought I was being clever,” he breathily laughed at himself, scrunching up his nose and relinquishing his hold on your waist, “another time, then?”

You nodded with a small blush rising to your cheeks, watching his descent back below deck as his shoulders almost seemed to slump in defeat. You furrowed your brows in a small amount of pity before walking over to sit by Zoro, pulling out your journal and beginning cataloguing and annotating a variety of drawn flora and fauna.

You felt a shift beside you, two tanned fingers tugging down the middle of your journal. You furrowed your brows, tilting your head up and having your lips immediately met by the green-haired swordsman’s. Widening your eyes and gasping in surprise, you placed the book in your lap and raised your hand upwards to cradle his cheek against your palm.

He broke his lips from your own, a smirk rising against his lips as he tilted his chin up to the ceiling, uttering a small: “Mistletoe.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, there was a bundle of mistletoe adorning the railing above your seated position beside him. A giggle rose in your chest, the swordsman choosing to lay down once more; this time his head falling to your lap and closing his eyes.

“Excuse you?” you chastised him, “When did I say it was okay to lay there?”

“You didn’t,” he grunted, a soft smile rising to his lips. “Can I just lay here a while?”

“Fine,” you sighed with a shake of your head, reclaiming the book you placed down and continuing your work within the folds of your leather-bound journal. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your thighs beneath his head as he fell into a blissful slumber under the morning sun.

This is how the following week seemed to go: all of the members of the Straw-Hat crew managed to claim kisses from your lips, cheek and forehead beneath the mistletoe; you in turn offering the same. That was all except, it should seem, the blonde-haired chef had yet to have the opportunity to claim a kiss from anyone, nor receive one in return. And your heart broke for his poor, romantic soul.

You twirled the fine sprigs of withering florals within your fingertips, interweaving the branches into one another and fastening them with a small amount of twine as necessary.

Each kiss you shared with Nami felt as soft and as playful as the first, the taste of her lips against yours feeling sweet and as warm as the sun that welcomed you into the day. Luffy’s were always incredibly mischievous, his lips often catching you off guard as you went about your duties aboard the ship. Usopp was always shy, his kisses feeling like a hidden and apprehensive confession of childhood romance with all of the giddy feelings coinciding with them. Zoro’s lips were dominant, passionate and sometimes lazy; much akin to his attitude and practices with his tri-wielding swordsmanship.

Yet, you had yet to taste the lips of the beloved chef aboard the Going Merry. He eluded you unintentionally, as he did the other members of the Straw-Hat pirates. Sanji had yet to sample the tradition you had so graciously introduced to the crew, and it was devastating for you to witness.

Interweaving the final strands of the mistletoe, you nodded your head in satisfaction with a broad smile stitched against your face. Rising to your feet, you began your descent towards the kitchen where you knew the chef would be hiding away; elbows deep within the suds infused dishwater.

And that’s where he was, hunched over and clasping one of the many mugs within his left hand and scrubbing the ceramic edge with his right. His focussed grip never let up, twirling the object around as a dance within his palm as he hummed a sweet song through his nose. The filter end of a cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he remained blissfully unaware of your approach, placing the cleaned mug within the drying rack to the side of the deep sink.

“A pretty melody, Chef,” you uttered your compliments, prompting Sanji’s shoulders to rise stiff and rigid.

“Thank you,” he squeaked out in surprise, removing the plug from the sink to relinquish the murky contents from within it. He rinsed his hands with a small stream of water falling from the tap, drying them on the hanging hand towel below the countertop.

You coyly approached the chef, the woven object clutched lovingly within your palms. You bit your bottom lip.

“I hope you don’t mind my forwardness,” you began, a blush rising to your cheeks as you thumbed the object within your hands, “but at this stage-,” your eyes glanced upwards to meet with the ever widening eyes of the tall, blonde in front of you; “-desperate times call for desperate measures, Sanji.”

His eyes travelled to the object within your hands, noticing the circle of green and white florals clutched within your grasp. Mistletoe interwoven with sprigs of pine, fine branches and twine creating a beautiful and sweet crown of florals was your circlet of adoration.

“I-Is that for you?” Sanji stuttered, a small blush rising to his cheeks, “just for me to have the honour of upholding your tradition?”

You shook your head, raising the object to hover above his head; “it’s not for me, sweetheart,” you whispered with a small flush of warmth dusting your nose and cheeks, “it’s for you.”

His breath caught within his throat, eyes widening further and brimming with a small air of bittersweet sorrow. He closed his eyes and nodded his head lower, enabling you to place the crown of flowers atop his head before you circled your arms around his neck.

Tugging down the scruff of his neck, you joined your lips against his in a slow, deliberate and passionate dance of adoration. You felt him relax into your hold, his arms falling to your hips to anchor you against himself. A sigh departed from his lips as he opened his mouth to receive more of your romantic entanglement as your tongue darted out to meet his in a gentle caress.

A small gasp of surprise fell from your lips as you felt a small metal object located beneath his tongue, attached firmly in front of his lingual frenulum. He smiled against your lips, folding his arms further around you to hold you flush against his torso; swaying you slightly as he expressed his joy of finally being included in your cultural tradition.

You brushed his cheek with your fingertips, trailing them lower to press your hands against his chest to trace the collar of his shirt down to his tie. Tilting his head and angling his chin down, he deepened the kiss further; the two of you blissfully unaware of the presence leant against the doorframe as you clutched desperately within the arms of one another.

“Please,” a sarcastic voice called from the doorway, the gruff guttural energy falling from the swordsman’s vocal registry in waves, “don’t stop on my account. If you could just move over so I can get to the fridge, I’d appreciate it.”

You both sprung from each other’s arms, a flush of embarrassment at being caught at such an intimate exchange of passion rising to your cheeks.

Zoro chuckled, winking lazily at you while brushing shoulders with the chef. Your eyes widened further as you watched Zoro fall dangerously close to Sanji, whose blonde hair was framed so beautifully by the mistletoe crown in the light of the kitchen window. Zoro opened the fridge, retrieved a brown-stained glass bottle from within and turned back around to face the two of you.

“These twist top?” Zoro questioned Sanji, who shook his head in response. Zoro grunted and approached the chef in two strong strides, uttering, “Then get out of the way of the drawer so I can get to the bottle opener.”

“Zoro,” you gasped in surprise, alerting your two crewmen to their current proximity, "Zoro, the mistletoe.”

Both Zoro and Sanji’s eyes widened at your direction, both looking to the crown atop Sanji’s head before their orbs met each other’s: rage and humiliation befalling them both as their tempers rose within their close proximity.

“Idiot chef-,” Zoro began, Sanji’s voice cutting through the air.

“-stupid moss-head,” the chef growled.

“Boys,” you addressed them both, their eyes again snapping to your own. You chuckled at them both, shaking your head with a mischievous grin rising to your swollen lips; “it was used as a ceasefire once, perhaps it can be again?”

Zoro’s lip curled upwards in a small snarl, Sanji’s brows falling into a low frown.

“Forever haunted by unspeakable horrors if you don’t go through with the tradition,” you teased them both in a melodic tone, “and I would be incredibly offended.”

A small, tense air fell between the three of you. Tensions and tempers continue to fester and boil between the two men, both weighing up the consequences in choosing to follow through with your warning.

“Fine-,” Zoro growled out, turning to face the blonde chef.

“Wait, what-,” Sanji managed to stutter out before Zoro hooked his forearm around the blonde’s shoulders and drew him into his chest; the chef’s lips meeting with the swordsman’s in a hard and dominant exchange of fierce intensity. Your eyes widened as a giggle fell from your lips; Sanji’s shocked expression against Zoro’s angered brow drawing hilarity in their comparison to the red hue rising to adorn their cheeks with a light flush. Breaking away as quickly as their exchange began, Zoro flicked the tip of the crown atop Sanji’s head; the floral arrangement falling away from the chef’s brow to litter the floor with a splay of leaves and flowers.

“Zoro, my hard work!” you cried out, the smile still atop your lips as you stepped forward to collect the leaves.

“Just making sure I don’t have to do that again,” Zoro growled, a smirk falling to his lips as he reached behind the stunned chef to gather the bottle opener from the drawer behind him.

“Like I’d ever let you, Marimo,” Sanji spat back at him, walking himself over to the sink to collect a tall glass to place beneath the tap of the sink.

You collected the leaves and reworked the crown in a huff, interlacing the twine again to collect the sprigs and flowers within the circlet. You laughed, finally satisfied with your ability to collect passionate exchanges from all of your beloved crew.

“Thank you, boys,” you sighed, rising again to your feet and glancing at the chef and the swordsman, “I appreciate you adhering to my cultural tradition.”

“Of course, love,” Sanji smiled at you, raising his glass of water to his lips.

“Thanks for sharing it,” Zoro nodded to you, swigging from the cool, amber liquid within the brown bottle.

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shiggybrainr0t · 4 months

Text

your whole life you’ve been told to avoid the forest because of the wolf like beasts that live there. never would you have thought that it would be the beasts that came out of the forest to you.

part 1/?

pairing: aizawa x gn!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: guns, dead animals, parent death (non graphic), future smut

a/n: dividers by @/cafekitsune and the banner picture is from mark chance photography 🫶🏻 this will be my first series and I am very excited about it! i hope you guys enjoy this first chapter ❣️

when you were a child, the grass in the field just before the forest was almost as tall as you were. it was your favorite place to play, despite the disapproving looks from the town elders whenever you’d come back with wildflowers clutched in your hands. you weren’t the only child who played in the field, but you were the only one who got so close to the forest.

the field was a gorgeous sea of bright green, with pinks, purples, blues, and yellows sprinkled throughout like the colorful fish you saw in the ocean the time your papa took you out on his boat. perhaps it was because they were so close to forbidden territory, but the biggest and prettiest flowers were just by the edge of the forest, where the field was shadowed by tall trees.

that was were you found yourself today. your papa had been sick recently, which in turn made your mother sad, and you knew that they both loved when you brought them flowers. even when they were scolding you for going so close to the forest, they couldn’t quite hide their smiles when faced with your gift of love.

this day, you were so focused on finding the best flowers that you didn’t even notice whenever the birds stopped chirping and the air turned still. you didn’t notice the boy until he was right in front of you. he finally gained your attention by holding out a daisy towards you.

startled, you jumped back. surprised by your reaction, he did as well. for a few moments you both just looked at each other in shock. he was tall and gangly, most likely entering his teenage years by the way he towered over you. (though, at only eight years old, everyone towered over you.) memories of your papa telling you the stories about the beasts that lurked in the forest flashed through your brain. gnarly canines, clawed hands, and a hunger for flesh is what he described them as. this boy was just….dirty.

he was covered in dirt, like he had been rolling around in it before coming to you. his dark hair dangled past his ears, choppily sheared off at the chin. his eyes were bright when you looked at them, like a midnight sky full of stars. slowly, he reached out to hand you the daisy again.

it was an impressive daisy. large and in full bloom, you could practically smell it from where you stood a few feet away. cautiously, you took a small step forward and reach to grab it. your fingertips brushed his, and his whole body seemed to tremble. you stepped back quickly and clutched the daisy to your chest.

“th-thank you.” came your small, shaky voice. the boy’s eyelashes fluttered as he took a deep breath and then cleared his throat.

“are they your favorite? u’disnant?” his voice was gravely, like he wasn’t used to using it. the foreign word rolled smoother off his tongue.

“the daisy? um, yes they are.”

the boy nodded, and repeated “daisy” as if trying to memorize it. the sudden scream of your name from across the field made you both jump, and the boy’s lips pulled back in a viscous snarl. you flew around to see the village head aiming a shotgun in your direction.

frozen in your terror, you stare at a man you’ve known you’re whole life ready to kill you on the spot. a hand grabs your arm harshly and pulls you to the ground. you both tumble in the grass, the boy’s snarling drowned out by the loud crack of a gunshot.

now that you were out of immediate danger, you were able to think again. horror dawns on you as you realize the village head thinks this boy is a monster.

“you have to go! he thinks you’re one of the monsters!” your voice is frantic, verging on hysterical as you push at his shoulder as hard as you can. the boy barely moves, and instead looks down from where he’s hovering above you, eyes wide and angry, but also seemingly hesitant to leave you.

“he won’t hurt me, he’s after you! you need to go now!” at your urging, the boy finally pulls back, and with one last glance he runs through the grass and back into the darkness where the forest swallows him whole. another gunshot disturbs the oppressive atmosphere.

you never returned to the field, and the daisy was lost in the chaos.

your parents were rightfully horrified whenever they opened their door to find the village head gripping your shoulder tightly, and you sobbing. your papa held you as they were told what happened, and your mother’s face had lost all life whenever she turned around after seeing the head out.

you weren’t physically punished, as the village head throughly recommended, but instead forbidden from going to your field again. your parents had only let you go because they knew how much you loved it, so this was punishment enough. they knew they were right whenever your sobbing started up again at this declaration.

you felt like you would never feel the sunshine on your skin again. never feel the grass beneath your bare feet, and never hear the hums of the insects and chirps of the birds that created a musical just for you. that night, you slept snugly between your parents, as both of them needed the reassurance that you were still there.

it didn’t take long for word to spread around your village about what had happened in the field. despite you stressing that “it wasn’t a monster! it was just a boy!” you still were given a wide berth whenever you entered the village center to buy things for your parents. soon, you were ostracized completely, and even dubbed the “monster lover” by your peers.

it continues even to this day. you’re older now, just past your teen years, and your papa is gone. he left an emptiness in your house that has been eating away the foundation for years. one day you fear your mother will fall in.

the boy has become a fuzzy memory, something you are only sure actually happened because of everyone else not letting it go. sometimes you dream of red eyes peering at you, and when you awake in a cold sweat you swear you can see the same ones staring at you through your window.

the village has been getting antsy. the former village head has just passed on the title to his son, enji, and recently the village’s main farm found two of there goats slaughtered.

the farmer’s son (he being one of the few who actually talks to you), told you about it in detail while you were both at the river doing laundry.

“i’m telling you! i’ve never seen an animal tore up that way!” hizashi emphatically states as he grabs your arm and shakes it. his wide eyes are full of fear, you realize. this surprises you, because hizashi once ran off a coyote in order to protect the herd, and he has the scars to prove it.

“you need to be really careful! i know you like taking walks, so just promise me you won’t go on one alone anymore! at least until this animal is caught, ok?”

you give him a look, raising one eyebrow in disbelief. “who am i supposed to walk with? enji?”

that earns you a scoff, and then a considering look.

“he does have a soft spot for you, you know. i think he fancies you.”

that earns him a fake gag, which makes hizashi let out a loud laugh that echoes so loudly you’re sure the whole village can hear. the conversation moves on to more pleasant topics, and the rest of your chores passes quickly.

you drag your feet on the path home, already dreading the gloomy atmosphere that awaits. your mother lost a part of herself whenever your papa died, and each year the sharp blade of grief chips away more of her. she has become almost unrecognizable to you, her only child and someone who used to be so close to her.

you were always a little closer to your papa, but it was your mother who taught you how to create flower crowns, who kissed your bumps and scrapes, and who sang you lullabies whenever you had nightmares. now, you’re lucky to get a full conversation with her.

your house has become dilapidated, as it was your papa who did all the repairs whenever they were needed, and no body wants to go to the “monster lover’s” house and help. the entry, once lined with flowers, now has been overcome with weeds. you do your best with the upkeep, but some things simply escape your efforts. a sad entry for a sad house, you think.

surprisingly, your mother is at the table whenever you enter. her nimble fingers are knitting what could become a scarf or a shirt, and she has an empty expression on her face. at your footsteps, she looks up at you.

“there is a meeting at the town hall tonight.”

her voice is the same low, lovely tone it always has been, but it’s cold and gripping where it used to wrap around you like a cozy blanket. you simply nod, and get to work on a light supper you both can eat before you go.

you are both silent as you sit on one of the hard benches in the town hall. there were not many people there yet when you arrived, but you still chose a bench in the very back. it’s better for you to be as inconspicuous as possible at these sorts of events, you’ve learned. just as you hoped, barely anyone acknowledges the two of you, with the exception of hizashi and his family and a surprising nod from enji. a sinking feeling sweeps your gut as your friend’s words from earlier come back to you. the last thing you need is enji’s interest.

the whole town is here in the small building, so there are multiple people standing along the walls. you figure this must be a very important meeting, because even the old healer is there, and she never leaves her cottage anymore. a quiet takes over the room as enji makes his way to the podium at the front. his deep voice is commanding as he starts to speak.

“as you know, there have been multiple suspicious animal deaths in the village recently.” this raises murmurs from the people, and you see enji’s eye twitch in annoyance even from your place in the back.

“aside from this, the first wolf has been seen since the last sighting years ago.”

at this, several dozen people turn to look at you and your mother, making you shrink down. horrified gasps ring out, and fittingly a baby starts to cry at all the commotion. in a surprising display of affection, your mother grips your hand in hers tightly. you look over at her and her eyebrows are furrowed, eyes holding so many emotions its hard to make heads from tails.

“silence!” the room immediately goes mute as the village head harshly spits out the word. enji takes a deep breath, and begins again.

“due to this, i have decided we need to take proactive measures. we are going to hunt them before they can hunt us.”

there is no stopping the cacophony of sounds that rings out after this statement. enji seems to realize this, as he nods and steps down from the podium. kugo steps up quickly in his place, and cups his hands around his mouth.

“any men wanting to join the hunt please come forward!”

in horror, you and your mother watch as multiple men, young and old, scamper through the crowd to get to the front. you look around and make eye contact with enji, who seemingly was already looking at you. his expression is determined, and you have a bad feeling come over you suddenly. there is a storm coming, and your village was going to be in the dead center of it.

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dilfs-whore · 3 months

Text

A deal is a deal

Pairing:Jacaerys velaryon and cregan stark.

Contains/warning:gay sex,rimming,handjob,fingering,size kink lowkey,missionary.

I don't usually write fanfic but I am literally in heat 🩷.

❀Minors do not interact!this is sexual content for adults made out of pure fantasy

That faithful day in which prince Jacaerys targaryen met the Lord cregan stark was a memorable one,the weather was cold with snow falling on the northern land while both men walked together discussing the current politics and as they did Cregan could not help but stare in silent awe at the young prince's face,snow was falling on his dark curls making his adorable nose scrunch while he shivered from the cold that was also turning his freckled cheeks to a pink blush.

Cregan was of course going to fight alongside rhaenyra targaryen,he was a Stark after all,and there had never lived a Stark who forgot an oath but that did not mean that he was forbidden from playing a trick before he told jacaerys he was going to bend the knee to his mother.

Just a small innocent trick,one that would allow him to touch the prince's gorgeous curls and body,one that would allow him to crash his lips against the prince's,to let him feel his soft pink lips whimpering against his.

'That is rather...an interesting proposal my lord.' Jacaerys amused voice said as they both walked towards Cregans's private chambers,he had a sheepish smile on his face,one that made Cregan suspect he was waiting for him to initiate the act of flirting.

'One I was not expecting.'

'If you do not wish to do it,there is no need to my prince.' Cregans deep voice answered,sending a shiver down Jacaerys spine as he imagined his voice commanding him around like a puppy,a thought he quickly shoved out of his mind as he tried to act normal infront of the handsome lord.

'I know.' Jacaerys chuckled,turning his head away from cregan's sharp gaze to hide his blush, 'I am just merely expressing my thoughts', he explained as his dark doe eyes looked out the glass window,appreciating the beautiful snowy mountains outside for a moment.

'And I am just making sure you are comfortable' cregan retorted while smirking internally after seeing the prince's flustered demeanor. 'As it is an unusual proposal,but one I was wishing for you to comply with.' He clarified while his eyes roamed over Jacaerys's body shamelessly,enjoying how he was much smaller than him.

'I do wish for no one to know about this my lord,I cannot afford to lose my reputation' Jacaerys voiced out his concern in answer,earning a confident nodd from Cregan before they both approached the door of his chambers.

'I heard there is a way...for it to be less painful' Jacaerys asked curiously as he took off his cloak while staring shamelessly at Cregan who had also taken off his furr cloak abandoning it on the ground before focusing all his attention on Jacaerys, and who could blame him?.

Jacaerys looked like a gorgeous angel,slowly undressing infront of him,offering his body in return for his dying loyalty to the rightful heir.

Cregan nodded his head in acknowledgment while his hand reached into his drawer,pulling out a bottle of what looked like to be an oil of some kind,and that helped ease Jacaerys's nerves a little bit as it seemed that Cregan knew what he was doing.

'Don't worry,I will make sure you are as comfortable as you could ever be.' Cregan assured the worried looking angel,his heart beat quickened when he saw how the prince looked so innocent in a way..so trusting of him,it gave Cregan a warm feeling in his stomach.

After Jacaerys took his clothes off slowly,he felt his cheeks blush in embarrassment when Cregan's gaze roamed over his body like a hungry wolf looking at its prey.

Jacaerys had never laid with a man,never thought about doing so but he could not deny the attraction he felt towards the young lord sitting infront of him,and if letting said handsome lord fuck him ensured house stark's support to his mother he was willing to do it.

Cregan helped Jacaerys lay on the bed and his pupils dilated as he took a good look at the sight before him,the future heir to the iron throne sitting with his back arched ass up on his silk sheets.

He felt his pants tighten when his eyes landed on the prince's creamy plump thighs that were spread so deliciously for him,almost inviting.

Cregan kneeled behind him,his large hands kneading at the skin of his bottom earning a nervous sigh from the prince,he spread apart his cheeks and his eyes instantly landed on the pretty hole waiting for him,he leaned in closer allowing his breath to fan over the spasming hole making Jacearys whimper shyly as he felt just how close to his intimate part Cregan was.

He felt so exposed and vulnerable,but at the same time he trusted that the lord knew what he was doing so he stayed silent.

He whimpered again,a sound so soft and beautiful as the tip of cregans tongue touched his hole,it was perverted,disgusting and just borderline wrong but if only it didn't so good in that moment he would've dared to complain.

Jacearys rested his forehead on the mattress as he felt Cregans tongue circle his hole coating it in spit before wrapping his lips around it,kissing it gently as it if was the most precious gem ever found,Jacearys felt his cock twitching at the feeling which made him let out another needy whimper and he swears he could feel Cregan smirk against his skin even if he couldn't see him.

Cregan's tongue continued to lick Jacaerys's hole while his right hand traveled between his shaking thighs to take a hold of his hard cock and the instant he did so he felt Jacaerys's hole tighten against his tongue,Cregan let out a groan that sounded like a hungry growl before starting to lick his hole as if he was a starving man finally eating his meal.

Jacaerys could not stay quiet after that,the sinful act made his cock twitch in Cregan's hand as he rolled his hips back against his face,wanting to feel more stimulation while soft moans left his pretty plump lips,sounding like music to cregan who in turn started stroking Jace skillfully.

Jacearys moaned as he rolled his hips against Cregan's tongue once more,wanting to feel him as much as he could,his head was dizzy from how good everything felt,from the hand stroking him quickly while rubbing his tip every now and then combined with the warm tongue licking his hole as if it was the most delicious thing ever was just too much for his poor mind to process.

Jacaerys looked back over his shoulder and he immediately moaned when his eyes noticed the way Cregan's muscular arm was holding his hips tightly,ensuring the prince's bottom was pressed against his face completely,Jacearys could see the scars on tye skin of his hand alongside the popping veins,a sight so masculine and oh so attractive.

He rested his head on the mattress once more before he arched his back,pushing his bottom against Cregan even more,he was too dazed to realize how perverted his position was and in truth,its not like he cared that much given how good the pleasure he was receiving felt.

Cregan's hand abandoned his twitching cock and before Jacearys could complain,he felt a wet sensation against his hole from Cregan spitting right at it,the spit trickled down from him hole to his balls,the sight so beautiful cregan wished he could paint it.

Jacaerys gasped loudly when Cregan's hand started playing with his balls before his tongue went back to worshipping his hole,Jacearys couldn't stop his hand from travelling down to his needy cock so he could stroke it,his eyes rolled back from the overstimulation of it all but he never wanted this moment to end,everything felt so heavenly.

His orgasm was getting closer and closer after each stroke and lick,Jacearys whined loudly enough for the whole north to hear as his vision went white for a second,his orgasm washing over him so hard he felt like he was seeing the gods themselves before his body went limp.

Cregan placed a final long kiss to his hole before leaning back,looking satisfied at the sight of the worn out prince but he wasn't cruel after all so he picked up jace and helped him lay on his back with his head against the pillow.

He looked so adorable it made Cregan want to squish him and hide him under his cloak forever,his dark curls were so messy with some stuck to his forehead from the sweat while his cheeks were painted with a deep red blush,and his doe eyes looked up at Cregan with stars in them which made him believe he was truly looking at an angel.

'Are you alright,my prince?' Cregan asked genuinely concerned as his fingers gently brushed some curls out of Jacaerys's face earning a quick nodd from the panting prince which he returned with a small smile.

His hand held Jaces left cheek while his thumb brushed against his smooth skin before he talked again,wanting to ensure the prince was comfortable.

'If you are tired we can stop now,I will have the maids prepare a warm bath for you'

'No...I am just..' Jacearys tried to answer back with a steady and clear voice but his soft panting made it difficult to do so,he felt embarrassed that he was this worked up from an orgasm that he seemed like a virgin who had just experience one,but in truth he never had experienced one this strong before.

Cregan's other hand went to his hair,his fingers brushed through it gently while he tried to calm him down with a gentle voice.

'It's alright,just take a deep breath for now.'

Jacearys nodded obediently as he did so,he took deep breaths that helped steady his panting and heartbeat all while Cregan caressed him which for some reason made him feel calmer.

Jacearys's hands came up to rest on Cregan's back,feeling the rough material of his clothing as he subconsciously pulled him in closer,wanting to feel his warmth when the much larger body towered over his own.

'There you go.' Cregan praised Jacearys in his low deep voice that sent a shiver down his spine,the fact that Cregan was fully dressed and towering over him gave off a certain aura of dominance that made Jacaerys feel so submissive but he could not find it in himself to complain about that.

'I see that you feel better already' Cregan teased with a cocky smirk,pointing to Jacearys's already half hard cock with his eyebrows,the tip of it an angry red as if it was complaining about not receiving enough attention from Cregan.

Jacearys squirmed nervously under his gaze as embarrassment filled his entire body,gods..why was he acting so desperate for?.

Cregan held his legs and spread them apart slowly,giving him time to close them and change his mind if he wanted to but Jacaerys didn't,he allowed it to happen with a stupid dazed smirk on his face.

Once Jacearys's legs were as spread as they could be Cregan reached over to the oil bottle and coated two fingers with it before he started rubbing Jacearys's hole with his fingertips,easing him in into the penetration that was about to happen.

'This might hurt at first,but I assure you it will feel good after some time.' Cregan said while he kept rubbing his hole,maintaining eye contact while making sure it was coated thoroughly as to not hurt Jacaerys,Cregan leaned down and kissed the tip of his freckled nose which made the prince smile shyly up at him.

After a moment Cregan eases one finger slowly in while his eyes watched the prince's face,reading his expression to see if he was hurting him too much.

Jacaerys whimpered loudly as a burning feeling filled his veins making him instinctively close his legs and for his hole to tighten around Cregan's finger.

Cregan shushed his whimpers while he gently kissed him all over his face,his hand gently pulled Jacaerys's legs apart again,caressing his thigh to help calm him down while he pushed his finger in more making Jacearys groan in pain,still not getting used to the feeling.

Cregan's left hand went to wrap around Jaces now rock-hard cock that was leaking a little bit onto his stomach,he decided to stroke him as a distraction from the pain he was experiencing.

Cregan stroked him slowly at first,teasing him by completely ignoring his red needy tip while he kept fingering him and to his amusement,his little plan worked,Jacearys was now subconsciously rolling his hips into Cregan's hand as his moans got louder and more needy.

After some time he added a second finger in and quickened his pace along with his strokes,his thumb rubbing the red tip quickly making Jacaerys moan and squirm under him,not knowing whether he wanted to lean in or away from the overstimulating touch.

Cregan leaned in until their noses brushed against each other,their lips inches apart while his hands kept moving.

'Does it feel good now,my prince?.' He asked smugly,knowing full well what the answer was but wanting to tease Jacaerys anyways.

Jacaerys nodded his head quickly as an answer,his moans getting louder the faster Cregan moved his fingers hitting a certain spot that was making his whole body quiver in pleasure,he felt his orgasm getting closer once more and he was so desperate to feel that euphoric feeling once more.

Finally his orgasm quivered through his body,blurring his vision for a moment and turned his moans into soft pathetic whimpers.

Cregan pulled out slowly,giving Jacaerys a moment to breath while he took off his clothes,disregarding them on the floor before he looked back at the young prince who in turn,was looking up at him in admiration.

Jacearys had never seen someone look so good and he truly believes he never will.

Cregan's body was muscular and much..much bigger than his own,he wanted to run his fingers over the muscles and to feel every single scar left but his thoughts were cut short when he felt cregan position his cock right infront of his hole.

Cregan rubbed his tip against it while he poured some more oil,he pushed in slowly giving the prince enough time to breath but then again,Cregan's cock was like 4 times bigger than his fingers so Jacaerys couldn't help but hiss in pain.

Cregan cooed at him gently before he pushed in more,still going very slowly while Jacaerys squirmed and whined underneath him,he felt bad but could not help himself,the way Jacaerys was sucking him in tightly was so pleasurable he felt like he could cum from the sensation only.

After he was fully buried in with his tip teasingly touching Jacaerys's prostate,he stopped his movements to allow the prince a moment to breath.

His arms were on either side of Jacaerys's head fully caging him in with no route of escape,their noses brushed against each other once again while their breaths mixed from their close proximity,Cregan groaned against Jacaerys's lips when he felt him clenching tightly around him,his insides were so warm and tight adding in to the tortures waiting moment.

Jacaerys whimpered quietly against Cregans lips after he felt him moving slightly,his tip hitting that sweet spot so deliciously it was making him lightheaded,he wrapped his arms around the lords broad shoulders,pulling him in closer for a soft intimate kiss.

Their lips danced against one another,soft and gentle as if they were afraid of breaking the other person which was laughable considering how fearless and strong they actually were,but in this moment..in this room they were nothing but Jacearys and Cregan,nothing more..and nothing less.

Cregan began to move slowly,his lips muffling Jacaerys pained moans as his pace gradually got quicker and rougher,his tip was now abusing the young prince's prostate making him shudder underneath the hungry wolf,his muscles flexed instinctively while his hands held tighter onto Cregan.

Cregan licked Jacaerys's bottom lip before shoving his tongue into his mouth,kissing him desperately now as they both moaned into each others mouths,Cregan was skillfully rolling his hips in a way that made his cock dive deep into Jacaerys's insides,making the poor prince choke on his own moans.

The two young men were getting close to their peak now,they looked into each others eyes,appreciating how gorgeous each one looked while their bodies were intertwined together in a close embrace as Cregan wrapped his arms around Jacaerys,holding him so closely like he was afraid the prince would disappear.

Jacaerys's eyes were teary when he looked up at Cregan,a small pout on his pink lips that were letting out the most beautiful moans known to mankind,the sight of him alone was enough to make Cregan groan before coming deep in him,painting his insides a white colour that filled him with warmth and Jacaerys immediately came from the sensation,a loud moan leaving his lips as he did.

That night,a deal was sealed in the chambers of Lord Cregan stark with the promise of honesty,loyalty and trust.

The way it was done might not have been ideal to others,but who was to trust their opinion?as they had not seen the way Cregan gazed down at Jacaerys as if he was an angel sent from the gods themselves to save him of his lonely misery,they had not seen the way Cregan kisses Jacaerys as if he was the perfect bride he had waited so patiently for,they had not seen the way Cregan held him tenderly in his arms after their deal was sealed..they had not felt his warmth..and to the gods above Jacaerys had prayed..that no one.. no one at all will ever do feel it..,he wanted to be the only one and he viewed himself as the only deserving one too.

Their deal might have been sealed shut and done but there was still an ongoing war that needed to fought,one that Cregan promised to fight in.

And if that meant that Jacaerys had a chance to see him one more,even on the battlefield..he did not mind it..,he just wanted one glance..one more look at his face..,just one.single.look.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #cregan stark #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #hotd jacaerys #jace x cregan #cregan fanfiction #crejace #fanfic #house targaryen

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hyuwunjinie · 1 year

Text

Blood in the Snow (pt.1)

Characters: Hyunjin x afab reader (ft other skz members)

Genre/warnings: Royalty AU, Arranged Marriage to Lovers, Romance, Smut, Angst & Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual pining, Toxic Parents, Misogyny (Period accurate)

Explicit sexual content. This work portrays elements/themes that may be triggering, proceed with caution. Minors DNI.

Word count: 1,157

Summary: You thought you were engaged for eternity, destined to live your princess' dreams in a grand castle. But the moment you close your eyes, all you can see is the blood in the snow.

—

Today the weather was absolutely wonderful, yet you were anxiously clutching the ruffles of your dress. Your mother sitting next to you had been trying her best to reassure you, to no avail, and your behavior earned you a light tap on the back of your right hand as she clicked her tongue.

“y/n, I know you are impatient, but please, try to keep your dress in one piece, alright?”

Impatient wasn’t quite the right word. You were terrified. The carriage you were in was meant to bring you straight to the Great North to meet your betrothed, a Lord much higher in status than you were. You were already missing the golden fields of amber wheat that ruffled near your home’s stables.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you couldn’t call this place home anymore, really. Home was now wherever you were headed to, or it shall become home sooner or later, you tried to reassure yourself. You didn’t even know when you could come back, of if you’ll ever get the opportunity to. This realisation was breaking your heart, but the adrenaline rushing through your veins was keeping you from becoming too emotional.

Your back was already hurting, and you wished you were horseriding instead of having to sit in a stupid carriage in a stupid ruffled dress. In your opinion, you looked like a porcelain doll. And this was not a compliment ; an overdone makeup with your skin way too fair and your cheeks way too pink, a dress that looked like it came straight from a six years old closet, and a painful hairstyle which took one hour to put in place.

“Mom, I’m just stressed, okay? I am not looking forward to this anymore.” You admitted with bitterness.

“Oh Honey, don’t say this, please. You are gorgeous, there’s no way they won’t like you. give me your hands, they must be tense.”

You always admired your mother’s way to dodge a difficult subject by redirecting people’s attention on another, but this time you silently cursed the gods you were the victim of her stratagem. With a sigh, you gave your hands to your mother who dedicated herself to slowly massage them. Looking out the small window of the carriage, you contemplated the slow change of the scenery, the golden leaves of the south trees slowly giving up their spots for their green cousins. Reminiscing the past, you let yourself drift to sleep under the careful gaze of your mother.

—

“Mom, where does he live ?” You asked, your small frame holding onto her hand in front of the newest portrait in the hall. You were four or six years old, at most.

“Way up north, sweetie.” Your mother answered, her voice calm and collected. Cold but warm, she gave you a reassuring press on your palm.

“... Why can’t he come play here ?” You let out with a pout, puzzled at how distances worked still and scratching your brain to understand your mother’s words.

“It’s too far. it would take him hours to reach this place.” She chuckled, mellowed by your cute face and visible dilemma.

“That’s not fair. I want to play.” You were eyeing the portrait now.

A youthful boy was sitting next to two adults. Their faces seemed warm and inviting, a welcoming sight for the viewer. But you learned fast enough that your focus should be on the other kid. He had short black hair, full lips and almond eyes. Dressed in expensive clothing, he sported a navy blue vest with shorts and dress shoes.

Your mother sighed, a thoughtful gaze etched on her face.

“Life is rarely fair, y/n.” Her sudden grave tone made you look up, and she met your gaze halfway. “See, this boy ? His name is Hwang Hyunjin. One day, you will be his wife. Like your mama and papa.” Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, contrasting with her small smile. “And you will have a happy, wonderful life with him.”

“...Mama, why are you crying ?” Confused, you could feel your own tears prickling your eyes, but you didn’t even know why you felt this way.

Now at your level, your mother gently put back a strand of your hair behind your ear and embraced you closely.

“... It’s nothing, sweetie. Mama is a little tired, alright ?” She sobbed in your shoulder.

You remember it snowed, that day.

—

“Y/n ! look !!” You were woken up in a rush by your mother who was gently rubbing your upper arm to get your attention.

Barely processing your environment, you focused your brain on your mother who was pointing intently at the carriage window.

You followed her hand, and all you could see was white. Snow, you realised. Snow as far as you could see. It was the first time you witnessed a wintery landscape. In the south, it did snow some times, but it never stayed on ground, melting right away upon its contact.

The light reflected so prettily upon the white mantle outside that you let out an audible gasp, mesmerized by this new sight. getting closer to the window, you could see your breath, and you shuddered, suddenly aware of the sudden drop of temperature you were experiencing. You were hurting still, but you suddenly felt glad to be inside the somewhat warm haven of the carriage.

Reaching for the bag in front of your seat, your mother pulled up an ivory chawl that she put tightly around you.

“I knitted this one myself, you know ?” She chuckled proudly.

“Wait, really ? I thought you hated knitting, mother.” You stared in disbelief at the skilled handiwork of the chawl and its flowery details. You slowly discerned patterns of sunflowers and lilies. You recognised the sunflowers to be you, as it was your favorite flower, and it didn’t took you long to remember lilies were Hyunjin’s favorites.

“Oh, I do, don’t get me wrong. But I wanted to surprise you. I was meant to give this to you after the wedding, but I suppose now is as good as ever, right?” She looked at you, gaze thoughtful and unreadable. You stared at each other for a second, before you finally broke the eye contact.

“Thank you, mother. It’s a wonderful gift. I will treasure it greatly.” You stared at the mixed patterns of sunflowers and lilies. “I will use it a lot with these temperatures, I’m sure.” Reaching out for a hug, you suddenly felt as if something changed, in that instant. A realisation that, after the wedding, your parents will return to your- their home. You won’t see your mother every morning anymore, waiting for you at breakfast with eggs and toast and fresh orange juice. You won’t be able to go flower picking together anymore. You squeezed her more tightly.

“...I will miss you, mother.”

“I will miss you too, y/n.”

In silence, you held onto these words for what seemed an eternity.

#kpop writing #hyunjin #stray kids writing #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #stray kids #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids au #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fic #stray kids series #hyunjin au #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin scenario #hyunjin fic #fic: blood in the snow

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slaymitchabernathy · 4 months

Text

Playpen

Coriolanus watches Soarynn from across the courtyard. Watches how she throws her head back when she laughs, how her hand comes to rest on Clemensia Dovecote’s shoulder as if she’s saying: “I may have been gone for the last twelve years, but I am still one of you.”

Indeed she is.

Coriolanus had been worried about how Soarynn would do coming back to the Academy. Would she fit in or stick out like a sore thumb? Would his friends like her? Would the professors see her as District?

But she assimilated back into the Capitol lifestyle quite easily, and he humbly acknowledged that it was mostly his doing.

They were official. They were together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Snow and Nightingale.

Mother was already talking about grandchildren.

“Coriolanus?” He’s pulled from his regular daydreams about Soarynn by the voice of Festus Creed, one of his best friends. “Yes?” He asks, turning to look back at the assignment they’re supposed to be working on. Festus smirks and raises his eyebrows, “She’s not going to run back to Two you know.”

Coriolanus knows he’s just teasing but the thought has crossed his mind one too many times. The thought of Soarynn leaving. Of her father being called back to Two and his loving, doting daughter going with him. It’s not even the thought of her leaving that truly frightens him, but the thought of her reuniting with the boys she’s had sexual encounters with.

For that District scum to try and put their hands on the girl he already adores is a terrible, terrible thought.

He shrugs, “It doesn’t mean I can’t keep a watchful eye on her. Besides, her father asked me to make sure she’s doing alright.” And he had, Glen had pulled Coriolanus aside one night when he was visiting the Nightingale residence.

“I must admit, I’m quite pleased that you and Soarynn have been getting along so swimmingly. So I do hope it’s not too much trouble to ask you to look after her when I’m not there to do so.”

Coriolanus had been honored to be trusted this swiftly and blindly. Never mind the fact that their parents have been friends for decades. To have your girlfriend’s father openly express his approval of your relationship was something every man hoped for.

“Right,” says Festus, flipping through one of the many history books they’ve been given for the school year, “you’re just looking out for her because her rich daddy asked you to. No other reason.”

Coriolanus scoffs, yes, Glen Nightingale is rich, but Crassus Snow is richer. If Coriolanus wanted to date some girl for her families money, he could’ve done that years ago.

But it was hard not to fall for Soarynn Nightingale. She was gorgeous, tan skin with long blonde hair and pink lips. And she was so utterly charming. She gave Coriolanus a run for his money which was something he hadn’t expected. Most Capitol girls were submissive and pliant, easily bending to his will.

But Soarynn wasn’t raised in the Capitol.

She was raised to be independent, opinionated and truthful. She did not hold back when it came to her opinions.

“You can fuck me a little bit harder,” she had said to him the other day once they finished. Coriolanus had been at a loss for words. Never had a girl so openly communicated what she wanted from him. But Soarynn was more than happy to speak her mind with him. She felt safe with him and that was something he knew to never take for granted.

He still can’t seem to tear his eyes off of her despite Festus and his teasing and for a moment, her eyes meet his. She gives him a smile before turning back to talk to her friends and Coriolanus sighs, school can’t be done soon enough. He’s found it more difficult to focus in his classes now that Soarynn is back.

He doesn’t know how, but his mother managed to pull some strings to ensure that Soarynn shared every single class with Coriolanus. “So she can adjust to her classes better darling,” she had said. Coriolanus knew how much his mother loved Soarynn, how taken she already was with his girlfriend so he didn’t argue with her.

Besides, it was terribly convenient.

He liked being able to hold her hand while they walked through the hallways, to share notes and read from the same textbook. Textbook! He has to focus on reading right now or he'll fail this assignment and his partner. "Did you hear that they're moving the horse races to after the Hunger Games this year?" Urban Canville asks as he takes a seat at their table, earning him several surprised looks from the rest of them.

Coriolanus exchanges a curious look with Felix Ravenstill who's sat across from him, "Why? Is there something wrong with the horses?" Pup Harrington asks, leaning forward. Urban shrugs and gives them a small smile, "Apparently there's been a problem in District Ten, you know, where we get the horses. The people there are so hungry that they've resorted to eating the horses to survive."

All the boys wrinkle their noses and let out displeased sounds. To eat a horse is downright barbaric. Coriolanus isn't surpassed that people in the Districts would succumb to this level. "Well I'm not surprised, they're below us in so many ways," Coriolanus retorts.

They all nod since they've all been fed the same mindset about the Districts since they were small. Coriolanus feels a bit disappointed that the races will take place later than he originally planned for. He's already told Soarynn about them, how he'll take her to his family's box so they can watch in the comfort of air conditioning and the finest food and drinks.

He looks back over at Soarynn and his jaw nearly drops. She's talking to Sejanus Plinth. Not just talking, laughing. He watches as she so casually rests a hand on his forearm and leans into him and Coriolanus feels his eye twitching, his fists curling, his jaw clenching. And never the fact that Sejanus is gay. That he is attracted to men. Because as far as Coriolanus is concerned, he's attracted to something and that is enough for him to pose a threat to Soarynn.

Festus lets out a low whistle when he sets his sights on the train wreck happening across the courtyard, "Looks like she found a new boy toy, Snow." Coriolanus ignores Festus and his snide comments and is already on his feet and moving towards his girlfriend who still hasn't noticed his approach. But Sejanus has. His eyes slightly widen and he gives Coriolanus a smile, "Coryo! I didn't know you were dating Soarynn."

Coriolanus stops in his tracks, a good two feet away from Soaeynn and Sejanus who both look at him expecarlty. He nods tersely, "I am," is all he has to say which earns him a confused look from Soarynn.

But Sejanus is oblivious as they come and doesn't pick up in the slight tension, "Well, Soarynn was telling me all about her time in Two. I can't believe we both practically grew up there!"

Soarynn's face slightly falters and Coriolanus knows why, because as hard as Sejanus clings onto his past life in Two, Soarynn has spent much more time there than Sejanus ever has. Coriolanus remembers Sejanus showing up to the Academy right around the same time Soarynn left. Almost as if the Capitol traded one family for the other.

Coriolanus, of course, was cautious around Sejanus, didn't quite trust him although he didn't know why exactly. Sejanus was defiantly more outspoken about how the Capitol treated the Districts, a big fat sympathizer if Coriolanus has ever seen one. But he never really did anything that would lead Coriolanus to outwardly hate him.

He was District, which was reason enough.

Coriolanus thought maybe when Sejanus came out as gay that maybe that was why he felt so...uncomfortable around him. He didn't care who Sejanus liked, to each their own.

"It's remarkable," Soarynn says smoothy before rising to her feet and gathering her things into her satchel. Coriolanus was going to her house after school and he was more than desperate to leave now that Sejanus was talking his ear off. He did his best to remain polite while Sejanus rattled off about one of their professors but his focus remained on Soarynn who was taking her sweet time to pack it up.

"We should get going," Coriolanus suddenly says, cutting Sejanus off from his tangent, "we um...we have a lot of school work to catch up on." He extends his hand out to Soarynn and she takes it without hesitation, allowing Coriolanus to pull her to his side where he already feels much better. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the sweet smell of vanilla.

He watches Sejanus and how his face slightly falls before he smiles again, "Well, it was good to see you two."

Coriolanus wishes he could say the same but he simply nods and Soarynn waves before they watch him walk away. "He seems sweet," Soarynn mumbles. Coriolanus scoffs and looks down at her, even though she's smaller than him, she is most defiantly his equal. She's his equal in the way she challenges him, thinks like him, cares for him.

"He's District Soarynn," he reminds her, "he can't be trusted."

Soarynn frowns, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I was talking to Crassus Snow instead of his son. But please let me know when you find Coriolanus."

And with that, she walks away.

꧁ ꧂

Coriolanus remembers when he stood in front of this door with his parents, so unaware of what was waiting for him on the other side. This time when the door opens, it's the Nightgale's maid who answers the door with a kind smile, "Mr. Snow, please come in."

He gives the woman a smile and steps into the Nightingale's townhouse, taking off his shoes and handing his coat to Maria their maid, "Thank you, Maria. Is Soarynn home?" He hopes he doesn't sound as desperate as he feels, but even if he did, Maria would never comment on it. She's good help, and as far as Glen and Soarynn are concerned, she's also family.

Coriolanus knows his own father's distaste for servants in the house. He doesn't trust any of them, not even Avows. But Glen hired Maria shortly after his wife passed to keep the house clean and she's been with them ever since, she even went with them to District Two.

Maira nods and hangs up his coat, "Yes sir. She's upstairs in her bedroom. Would you like me to bring you two a snack?" Coriolanus feels his mouth water at the mention of a snack. Maria is some sort of magician in the kitchen and he's been craving her tarts for weeks now. "Not now, thank you. But maybe some tarts for dessert?" He suggests, earning him a smile and nod from Maria.

If I'm even allowed to stay for dinner, he thinks to himself as he climbs the stairs.

Soarynn's door is closed as always but before Coriolanus goes to open it, he's drawn to the closed door at the end of the hallway. Even after all these years, the Nightingale's house still remains somewhat of a mystery to him, including several rooms upstairs that he's never been inside of.

He might be going against his better judgment bit he treads down the hall and quietly opens the door. It opens with a slightly groan and dust billows in the air when he steps inside, steps inside of....

A nursery.

One look around this room tells Coriolanus that this was a nursery meant for a baby girl. He finds it a bit strange considering that Soarynn is an only child and most people convert their nurseries into a more functional space once the baby outgrows it. But he remembers seeing Soarynn's nursery in the pictures her mother would show him, and it certainly didn't look like this. Unless...

He recalls very little about Mrs. Nightingale. She was very pretty, smelled like vanilla, and was kind, kinder than his own mother. But he feels as though she was constantly resting her hand on her stomach in the months leading up to her death. And perhaps she got a bit bigger too?

"I was going to have a little sister."

Soarynn's voice makes Coriolanus jump and he turns around wide-eyed to find Soarynn leaning abasing the doorframe. She doesn't look mad or upset. Her face is neutral. Calm even.

Coriolanus swallows. He doesn't know what to say. What do you say to someone who not only lost a sister, but a mother in the process? He knows what it's like to lose a sister. His mother nearly died trying to give birth to his little sister. Her name was going to be the name of a flower, Poppy, Rosie, Primrose, Daisy, something like that.

He never got to meet her.

"I didn't know," is all he has to say, his voice is hoarse.

Soarynn nods and looks down at the floor, "We weren't too keen on sharing it with the world. But now you understand why we left when we did. We had to get out or this house would've eaten us alive."

He gets that, boy does he get that. Roaming the halls and knowing that there's a ghost in the house is a horrible feeling, one that he experienced when he was little, along with his mother. Father always acted indifferent toward the whole situation, "We have our heir," he had said, "that's all that matters."

Soarynn seems so removed from it too, so past it. But isn't he as well? Coriolanus can't remember the last time he thought about his sister.

He wonders if both of them would've turned out differently had their sisters survived. Would he be kinder? Would Soarynn be meaner?

"I'm sorry," he says, although there are a number of things for him to apologize for right now. How he acted today in the courtyard, her dead sister. Two wonderful options to choose from. Soarynn raises her eyebrows and he already knows she's going to make him work for it. She's always been good at that, making him try.

"I'm sorry for how I acted today with Sejanus," he starts, "I know you have your...feelings, about the Districts as do I. We shouldn't let those keep us apart." Coriolanus could say a lot of things about the Districts, how backward those people are and how needy and dependent they are on the Capitol, always wanting to suck their resources dry.

But Soarynn wouldn't like that.

Soarynn's face slightly softens and she lets out a deep sigh, carding her hand through her blonde hair, "We're always going to be different Coryo, it would be strange if we weren't different. But talking about people that way, seeing them as less than simply because of where they were born is horrible. What if the roles were reversed and I was from Two and Sejanus was from the Capitol? Would you still date me or would you cast me aside and make fun of me behind my back?"

Coriolanus feels his throat growing drier and drier at the thought of Soarynn being from Two instead of Sejanus. It's bad enough that she had to live there but being born there is another thing entirely. But when he looks at her face, he sees something, desperation. She wants him to want her no matter what, no matter who she is and where she's from.

And he does want her!

Soarynn is perfect just the way she is despite her District-loving flaws but those can be dealt with further down the line. Right now, he has to secure his relationship with her and tell her exactly what she wants to hear. At least that's what his father does with his mother whenever they get into an argument.

He takes several strides until he's standing right in front of her and gingerly reaches for her hands, wishing to close the distance between them. Her small hands are so warm compared to his large, cold ones. They're a perfect fit. "My darling," he says, looking down into her dazzling eyes, "I would love you in every universe, Capitol or District, rich or poor. Nothing could ever keep me from you Soarynn. Nothing at all."

That seems to be the perfect thing to say because Soarynn breaks into a big smile, "You're quite the romantic, you know what?" She asks, tilting her head as she looks up at him. Coriolanus doesn't even try to wipe off the smug smirk on his face, "It's that famous Snow charm that the ladies can't seem to get enough of." Soarynn gasps and playfully swats at his chest. It's no secret that either of them has had their fair share of flings and sexual encounters.

The only difference is that Soarynn's reputation could be severely tainted should anyone find out that her previous encounters were with those from the Districts rather than the Capitol.

That's why it's good that she has him to protect her from these things. As long as Soarynn is by his side, no harm should come to her.

꧁ ꧂

"These are delicious Maria."

The older woman shoots Soarynn a kind smile and sets down another plate of tarts on the table, and these ones seem to be a different flavor much to their delight. "You two enjoy," she tells the young couple before walking back to the kitchen.

Coriolanus snags a tart off of Soarynn's plate and she slaps his hand, "There are two plates full of tarts and you insist on taking mine," she scolds him. Coriolanus gives her a sheepish grin, "Everything tastes better when it's with you." Soarynn blushes because they both know how many meanings that statement can take on and for the most part, he means it in a nonsexual way. But there's always room and time for sex.

When is your father getting home?" He asks, looking around the dining room for any signs of life from Glen Nightingale. All he sees is Petunia curled up on one of the windowsills.

Soarynn pops another piece of her tart into her mouth, "Um, I don't know. He's been working pretty late the past few weeks." Coriolanus nods but he's already thinking of all the things they could be doing upstairs right now.

And maybe that's the teenage boy in him, always wanting to have sex but he can't help it! Not when it's her. When it's Soarynn looking like that right next to him in a silk pajama set. With the thin strap of her shirt falling off of her shoulder, "Well, why don't we go upstairs and study?" He suggests with some lust in his tone.

Soarynn eyes him and smirks, "Because we're so studious."

"The most studious."

They subtly excuse themselves from the table after praising Maria once again about her delicious tarts and make their way upstairs. Coriolanus scoops Soarynn into his arms once they reach the top and she lets out a squeal, "Coryo! You might be the most impatient person I've ever met."

He grins down at her as he carries them to her bedroom, Petunia hot on his heels since she seems to have a habit of feeling left out of things. “No shame in wanting to bury myself in that sweet little cunt of yours darling,” he replies, reveling in how pink Soarynn turns.

Soarynn Nightingale is many things. A vixen is one of them. Coriolanus has had his fair share of sexual encounters and yet Soarynn seems to trump them in every single way. She can be extremely docile one moment and completely and utterly frustrating in the next, challenging him in their sexual domain.

He can’t get enough of her.

Just last week he ended up fingering her while they were in class. It was surprisingly easy since all the girls wore the mandated skirt to school and she had it coming since she’d left him with a rather large problem after teasing him in the courtyard.

He had done it the second the lights in the classroom went out so that they could all watch an education film, a film that no one seemed interested in watching but it was the perfect opportunity for him to get back at her.

But Soarynn took it like a champ, not letting anyone around them know about their current underlying situation.

Another thing he loved about Soarynn, her discreetness when it came to their sexual encounters. She played the innocent school girl daughter around both their parents but was his little slut behind closed doors.

It seems that they have both their parents fooled when it comes to how far they’ve gone sexually because neither of them have any objections when the two young adults spend the night at each other’s houses.

Father seemed to catch on slightly as to what was happening under his roof one night though. He had called both Coriolanus and Soarynn into his study late at night once mother was asleep.

“I won’t say I don’t approve of this union,” he had said, eyeing the young couple who nervously sat across from him, “but don’t think that I haven’t caught on to what you two have been doing.”

Soarynn of course, played innocent and had the nerve to look confused whereas Coriolanus focused his stare on the floor. There was nothing worse than being confronted by your own father about things like this. “Doing what Mr. Snow?” Soarynn had asked, tilting her head.

Coriolanus expected his father to chastise her, to lecture her has he’s done to him a million times before but instead he grew an amused grin. “You have very long nails Ms. Nightingale.”

Neither of them knew what to say to that, especially when Coriolanus knew that a few days ago his father had seen him getting ready in his room, just about to put on his shirt which put his back on display. Coriolanus had inherited his father’s looks for the most part which included his pale skin.

Pale skin with red lines going up and down his back courtesy of Soarynn’s long nails.

They made an effort to be more discrete after that.

Coriolanus kicks the door open to Soarynn’s bedroom, momentarily remembering what it looked like when they were younger, when things were simpler. He thought he knew everything when he was little, but after discovering the abandoned nursery today, maybe he still has more to learn about Soarynn.

“Make sure to lock the door,” Soarynn breathes before capturing his lips in a kiss.

Coriolanus nods into the kiss and fumbles with the door handle. He highly doubts that Glen would come barging in without knocking, but his mother certainly does, so they’ve learned to take necessary precautions.

Once the door is locked he crosses the bedroom and tosses Soarynn onto her bed, smiling when she giggles. Sex has for the most part, been an exchange of sorts for Coriolanus. But with Soarynn it’s become so much more. It’s become truly intimate, a place to laugh and enjoy himself.

“I know we just ate, but I think I’m still hungry,” Coriolanus informs her, crawling onto the bed and enjoying the feigned look of innocence she gives him.

He’s wanted to rip off those silk pajamas since he saw her in it and now is the perfect change to do so. Soarynn tilts her head, “I’m sure Maria could whip something up for you Coryo.” She tacks on the nickname in a teasing manner and it does nothing but rile him up even more.

He grabs her ankles and tugs her under him, pressing a knee between her thighs, “Maria’s cooking will always pale in comparison to that sweet little cunt between your legs,” he blatantly informs her. Soarynn whimpers and he leans down to kiss her again, this time more passionately and aggressively.

He thanks his lucky stars that Soarynn is a girl who prefers it rough and hard most of the time rather than a girl who only wants him to be gentle with her. Coriolanus has no problem treating Soarynn as if she’s fragile like glass. But he also doesn’t have an issue with fucking her like she’s unbreakable.

It’s all about balance.

His hands run under her silk shirt and he grabs her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers and relishing in the soft moans she lets out. Soarynn is sensitive all over but her nipples seem to be more sensitive than other parts of her.

“Coryo,” she moans, rutting her hips against his. Coriolanus groans and pulls away from the kiss, “Be patient darling.” He doesn’t make her wait any longer before he tugs her silk shorts down her smooth legs and throws them somewhere over his shoulder.

He’s met with an enticing baby blue thong with a little bow on the front in true Soarynn fashion. He can’t believe stuff like this constitutes for underwear but he’s not going to be the one to discourage Soarynn from wearing it.

He can see that she’s already soaked through the fabric so he pulls that off too, nearly doubling over when met with the enticing sight of her perfect cunt. She’s already so wet for him and he happily dives in, lapping at her wetness, sucking on her clit.

Soarynn’s hands fly to his golden curls and she tugs on them harshly which means he’s doing a good job. “Right there,” she says, her tone is breathy and she’s grinding into his face. Coriolanus makes a mental note to have her ride his face one of these days, so he can watch her fall apart on top of him.

Coriolanus gently bites her clit between her teeth and Soarynn cries out, her nails dig into his scalp, almost like she’s giving him head scratches.

He can feel that she’s getting close even though he’s not inside of her yet. He’s gotten good at learning her cues, learning what gets Soarynn off and what makes her unravel.

“Please, please, please Coryo,” she begs, nearly suffocating him with her thighs. Coriolanus moans against her cunt before licking a stripe from top to bottom, stopping at her clit and swiping back and forth. That’s all it takes for Soarynn to cum.

She finishes with a loud moan and heaven knows that Coriolanus could listen to her moan all day long. It’s a sweet melody, almost like a song and he is the cause of it.

He slowly pulls away from her cunt, pleased to see it leaking and puffy. Soarynn is still recovering, her chest rapidly rising and falling as she lies on her bed and Coriolanus wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Both of them seem to have quite a bit of stamina when it comes to sex which means they’re both always down for several rounds if time allows. And right now, they have all the time in the world.

Coriolanus kisses her thighs before kissing up to her stomach, leaving a few hickeys where he sees fit. He loves seeing her covered in love bites, knowing that she belongs to him and that he’s the cause of these bruises.

When he finally reaches her face, Soarynn seems to have finally caught her breath and her dazzling eyes look into his eyes, “Was that good,” he asks her, taunting her a bit.

Soarynn lets out a breathy laugh and cards her fingers through her long blonde hair, “It’s always good with you.”

Coriolanus grins and gives her a soft kiss, “Good. Because I’m just getting started with you.”

| Part 2. |

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

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tender-rosiey · 2 years

Note

If you’re open for requests or suggestions, could you do Ushijima, Daichi and anyone else of your choice with a f!Reader who’s insecure due to society’s body standards? If that makes sense, sorry. I’ve been feeling really insecure lately because everyone’s either thick or really slim and they’re all pretty and fit in the standards whilst I don’t :(

“YOU’RE PULCHRITUDINOUS”

— ushijima, daichi, sakusa, atsumu, and oikawa comforting you

a/n: oop, this took some time; hello everyone <33 FEMALE READER BTW

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI:

when he passed by your shared bedroom, he didn’t expect to see you looking dejectedly at the mirror and constantly squishing your stomach.

“y/n…?”

you jump, startled, “oh hey toshi! what’s up?”

he walks towards you, steps soft, “what’s wrong? is something bothering you? did someone do something?”

you smile and shake your head, “nope!” you pat his cheek lightly before giving it a kiss, “it’s nothing you need to worry about, my sweet and buff husband.”

“but as your husband, I need to make sure that you’re happy and comfortable,” he says, looking you straight in the eye, but his hand holding your own and rubbing your wedding ring.

you chuckle lightly, but it’s humorless, “it’s just…I haven’t been feeling the best in my body, it’s like I don’t fit in with what the world considers beautiful.”

“if the world doesn’t consider you beautiful then they are blind.”

you lightly punch his shoulder, “where did you learn to flirt like that?”

“y/n, I am serious.”

for some reason, no words come out of your mouth as you see your husband place your hand on his chest, where his heart is, “I don’t know if it helps, but I firmly believe that you’re beautiful in ways that can never be described in words.”

“oh ‘toshi,” you wrap your arms around him and hug tightly, “I love you, so much.”

a smile makes its way onto your face when you feel him smile slightly into your hair, “I love you too.”

“also, why are you wearing a pink apron?” you ask, a giggle escaping your lips and eyeing his ‘best husband’ apron he has on.

“I was trying to cook something for you,” he says, but looks down at this feet, discouraged.

“and?”

“it doesn’t look appetizing,” he sighs before looking up, “I am sorry.”

“I will eat it anyway, it can’t be that bad,” you assure him before walking towards the door but he holds your arm gently.

“no, i can’t let you die because of food poisoning, especially food I made,” he says in slight panic and obvious worry that you can’t help but chuckle at.

SAWAMURA DAICHI:

mornings with you and your husband were generally organized and calm, a couple of kisses here and there, making drinks and breakfast for each other.

today was no different, except daichi has been searching for his cap for the last 15 minutes but to no avail. he searched high and low and checked every corner of the house.

hell, he even checked the attic and while yes, he stumbled across one of the photo albums he oh so adores but can’t indulge in right now, he still can’t find his cap.

so he settles for the option he should have chosen from the very start.

asking you, his beautiful wife, for help.

“y/n! have you seen my cap?”

“no! did you check under your brown coat?” you call out as you, gloomily, look yourself in the mirror.

“yes, but— oh nevermind; it’s really under my brown coat.”

daichi puts his cap on before running back to your room to give you a goodbye kiss, “hey there, gorgeous.”

“you must be developing the mothers’ super power of finding something quite early,” he chuckles, “or it’s a sign for us to finally do something.”

your cheeks heat up as you swat him away, “SAWAMURA DAICHI!”

he smiles again, taking your hand into his and kissing it. soon, he kneels down, “have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“yo-you don’t have to do that now,” you mumble, trying to make him stand up but looking away when he stubbornly stays in his knees, “you will be late.”

gently, he pulls you down to him and pats your head, “well, I think it’s more important to remind my wife that beauty standards are not consistent and shouldn’t be what she compares herself to.”

you narrow your eyes, “you think that it’s that easy to stop—“

he places a finger on your lips before he continues, “she also should know that she is a whole standard herself and that no one can even compare.”

you, flustered, avert your eyes and look away and he takes as a chance to place another kiss on your cheek, “well! I better going now.”

“good luck,” you say softly with a smile and he laughs.

“I don’t need luck as long as I have you by my side!” he raises his left hand and your name that is engraved on the wedding ring shines.

SAKUSA KIYOOMI:

it was just a day of chilling in your house; your husband has finally gotten a one week break and you both agreed to make all out of it.

so after some discussions, you put all the snacks on the table while he gets the blanket and pillows.

“what movie will watch?” you ask while he sets it up.

“whatever you want.”

“then spinning a wheel we shall do,” you hum while he grumbles.

“y/n, it never lands on something we like.”

you giggle, “that’s the fun of it!” you wrap your arms around his shoulders before kissing his cheek, “we can trash talk it all the more and if you don’t like that then we will spin it again.”

his arms find their way around your waist as the both of you sit down, “then what’s the point?”

“the author wants to add words because this was too short for her liking.”

“what?—“

you cut him off by throwing yourself on him causing him to lay down. he groans but pulls you closer nonetheless, “you’re killing me.”

“good,” you smile and snuggle into his chest even more. you sit for a while cuddling together. soon you speak up.

“omi, kiyoomi, omiomi, oni—“

“what.”

“do I look bad lately?” you question and he looks at you offended as if you had insulted his entire lineage.

his eyebrows furrow and a frown is instantly on his face, “who the hell put that dumb idea into your head?”

“no one— in particular— it’s just seeing how the standards for beauty are nowadays, I don’t exactly fit.”

he sighs and takes a hold of your hand, “I am going to say this as politely as I can,” he takes a deep breath, “fuck society and its beauty standards.”

you snort making him roll his eyes, “I am serious; who said you need to fit?”

“the world, omi.”

he bumps your foreheads together lightly, “well the world is dumb and if you believe it then you will be as dumb as it is.”

a pout graces your face and he press a chaste kiss on your lips, “I will love you til we grow old and wrinkly you loser; I don’t care about the standards they put and you shouldn’t.”

you prepare to punch him but he grabs your fist, but looks away to avoid eye contact; his cheeks are a soft red hue as he speaks, “to me…you’re the epitome of perfection and beauty.”

MIYA ATSUMU:

today, one of the many events atsumu has to attend; you know first hand how much he hates these events, and he doesn’t hesitate to let it be known.

“I would much rather spend my time with ya than a stupid event!” to be exact.

so the solution you found into convincing your husband to go the events is that you would go with him which got you to your current predicament.

“y/nnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”

“tsumu, have patience for god’s sake!”

“but I wanna see yaaaaaaaaaaa!”

he huffs and grumbles when he doesn’t get a response, “yer so mean.”

after a couple of minutes (really only one minute but atsumu’s patience is non-existent), he gets up and goes to check up on you.

the moment he opens the door, he is met with a sight he wants engrave in his memory forever. you looked beautiful, ethereal, gorgeous, and absolutely stunning to the point he is starting to feel hesitant about letting others see you like this.

they don’t deserve to see such heavenly beauty, he grumbles in his head. not like he does, but oh well some are just privileged. privileged as hell in his case.

“Y/N YA LOOK SO GORGEOUS! BEAUTIFUL! PRETTY! OH MY GOD HOW DID I GET SO LUCKY?!”

you giggle softly but soon start fiddling with your fingers, “you sure? I feel like I don’t exactly look that good.”

“why?” he visibly deflates, and pouts before waddling towards you. he hugs you from behind and rests his chin on your shoulder, “ya look so pretty, ya always do.”

“i don’t exactly meet the standards of the world nowadays.”

he smiles softly, “do ya want to know something?”

you hum and he interlocks your fingers together.

“everyday, I think about how out my league you are,” he starts, “ya always look so gorgeous and are so beautiful, not to mention your amazing personality.”

a smile makes its way to your face and he chuckle, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I also love yer cute little butt,” he cheekily says while squeezing it making you squeal.

“‘tsumu, we have an event we need to go to!”

“hmmm, I think we can just be fashionably late for tonight.”

OIKAWA TOORU:

“y/n, baby, angel, pretty, gorgeous, can you please come to bed!” your husband whines from the bed while you sit on your desk doing god knows what.

“baby, please I need to have you in my arms or I will die!”

you sigh, “tooru, stop the dramatics; I will be with you soon, bubs.”

he pouts before basically screaming in mini-caps, “YOUR HANDSOME HUSBAND WILL REALLY APPRECIATE HAVING HIS PRETTY WIFE IN HIS ARMS RIGHT NOW!”

soon, you throw an almost-empty pack of tissues on his stomach making him groan, “I said I will be with you soon, you baby.”

he gets up, a cute frown gracing his lips as he stands behind you, “y/n! it’s not nice to hit your husband with a tissue pack!”

“and it’s not nice to keep bugging your wife, pretty boy.”

“I-well-,” he splutters before crossing his arms and looking away. from the corner of your eye, you can see an adorable red hue adorning his cheeks.

“I still make you nervous, tooru?” you tease while he huffs a small ‘hush’.

he gets another chair and sits beside you, “ignoring me, what’s keeping you up, pretty?”

he takes a hold of your hand and rubs his thumb over it before kissing the back of your hand.

“just thinking about how I look…”

“how perfect you look?” he teases lightly, putting a strand of stray hair behind your ear.

“no, you loser,” you say chuckling sadly, “I don’t exactly fit with the beauty standards and stuff; I don’t feel that pretty sometimes.”

“hm, that certainly is a pickle,” he hums thoughtfully, “but it’s okay to feel that way, even I feel like that.”

“the world-known hot-shot argentinian setter doesn’t sit the beauty standards?” you deadpan.

he nudges you with his elbow, “yes even the hot-shot setter, but I just want you to know that no one can always fit these standards, even me.”

“in fact, if you ask me,” he says standing up and pulling you in front of the mirror, “I think you’re the most irresistible, charming and alluring person I have ever laid my eyes on.”

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @bakugossanity @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @luciferspen @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto

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sexymilfwitch · 1 year

Text

Today was a Fairytale

Parings: Princess!Kate Bishop x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kate choses she wants to marry y/n after silently admiring her from her castle’s bedroom window

Words: 2197

Note: The title is after a taylor swift song, this is my second fic and idk how i feel about it but i hope everyone who sees it enjoys it!!

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“Excuse me? Y/N?” I hear in a somewhat quiet voice

I turn around to come face to face with the princess, immediately I go to bow but she stops me once she realizes what I’m doing.

“No no, please there's no need for that!” Princess Kathrine says as she giggles a little

“Forgive me for my reaction your highness, it's not everyday you run into the prettiest woman in all the lands.” I state as the princess’ cheeks turn a light shade of pink “To what do I owe this extraordinary pleasure of talking to you Princess Kathrine?”

“Please, call me Kate” she insists “I am here because as everyone knows i am to be betrothed soon” a twinge of pink hits her cheeks as she begins speaking again “And as you probably have heard in whispers around the kingdom, i've turned down every suitor who has come to court me.”

“Yes I have heard about you declining them all, but there was talk that you and Princess Maximoff were getting along well” the second i said that her eyes widened as she playfully shook her head

“Wanda? Oh no she's one of my best friends, nothing more.”

“Princess Kath-” she put a finger up to my mouth to shush me as i went to speak

Removing her finger from me I was met with “Kate, I told you to call me Kate silly.”

“My apologies Kate but as I was trying to ask, what brings you here?” I questioned “Don't get me wrong, I adore your company and presence. It's just that my bakery is far from the castle and it seems you’re not accompanied by any guards.” Kate blushed and started to smile

“Did you know that my bedroom window looks perfectly at your bakery?”

“No your highness, I didn't.”

“Well it does, and I've been watching you from afar for a while. Your breathtaking smile and energetic personality, I realized once my mother started inviting royalty from other kingdoms to court me that none of them would ever be you!” I was a bit taken aback by this information but kept listening to the princess “I know this all sounds a little crazy but I am in love with you!”

My breath hitched as the princess hid her face in her hands. “What i'm trying to say is that i want to wed you y/n, i want you to come to the castle and court me.” she stated as i stayed silent

With wide eyes and shaky hands I grabbed one of her hands in mine. “Princess, you don't know who I am, how could you be so sure that you want to be wed to me?” i looked into her eyes “i am only a baker your highness, I feel honored but surely one of your royal suitors would be a far better match for you.” I whispered as i looked away from her

“I know what I want, I am not some child anymore.” she stated “you being a baker and trying to look out for me is even more endearing y/n, i get that this is an outlandish thing to spring onto you and i'm truly sorry, but if you just come to the palace and let me show you who i am i promise you won't regret it.”

As I looked back towards her she sent me a small smile “I will come to the castle” her smile grew a little “but I will not wed you right away.” as her smile started to fade i began to talk again “i want to know you, learn who you are. I'm not the type to jump into marriage, your highness. I would like for you to know who I am and for me to know you before we wed.” that gorgeous smile made its way back onto her face.

“Oh lovely! You will not regret this y/n!” she looked so happy as i smiled and hoped i wouldn't regret this.

It had been a month since our first meeting. I was brought to the castle the next morning, Kate had accompanied the driver saying how she didnt want me to ride alone. The past weeks have been hectic, lots of people taking my measurements and teaching me what fork was for what dish. Why were there so many utensils on a table? Honestly it seemed absurd. I had barely gotten to spend time with Kate to learn about her although I had started to warm up to her, what little time i did get with her was mostly her asking me about myself.

I was broken from my thoughts as Kate walked in and grabbed my hand as she wordlessly pulled me along with her “Kate? Where are you taking me?”

She turned her head to the side a little to look and smirk at me “I’m taking you out, you've been cooped up in this castle too long!”

I smiled and giggled out “Kate, I have to go to a fitting soon!”

“Too bad! I'm taking you to meet our head guard, he's also my best friend but he won't admit to us being friends, so don't listen to anything he says." I laughed at that last part and she smiled as she started walking next to me holding my hand as we got outside.

As we reached a training round with targets in a line far away, a man with ashy blonde hair and a bow in his hand came into view.

“Y/N this is my best friend, Clint Barton!” she exclaimed as he grumbled something about only being her teacher with a smile on his face.

He put down the bow as he walked up and hugged Kate “Technically im her archery teacher, but she's a little delusional so i just let her say im her best friend.” she hit his arm as she turned to me

“I told you he'd deny it.” she whispered as i giggled

Clint looked at us and smiled “Look this is cute and all, but Katie has some practice to do.”

Kate walked towards her bow and ushered me over “actually Clint y/n here is going to be shooting, And I was hoping I'd get to teach her alone.”

The blonde man simply smiled, raised his hands in the air and walked away.

“Katie? That's a cute little nickname” she blushed “also, i’m not actually shooting this thing am i?”

She raised the bow up “this thing is my bow and yes, i know you really only know random things about me like what my favorite book genre is or my favorite color. I want to share this with you, archery is something I love dearly. Just like how I love you, and I want to introduce my one love to my other love!”

Even though I do know she loves mystery novels and her favorite color was purple, I was happy to learn about her interests. I frowned a little as she said she loved me, i haven't been able to say it back and i want to i'm just not ready yet. She's constantly assuring me it's okay and that my emotions move at their own pace especially since it's only been a month which i appreciated.

I smiled and looked up at her “Well what are you waiting for bishop? Introduce me.”

Her face lit up as she placed the bow in my left hand and got behind me as she fixed my stance. Once the arrow was set on the string for me she placed her hands on my hips and moved her head to my right shoulder.

“Okay now draw the bow and look at your target.” her breath on my neck made my ears turn a shade of red “Good girl, now release.” my heart sped up and I let go of the bow string.

The arrow struck the target right in the middle. I didn't notice seeing as I had already turned to look at Kate. she didn't notice either because she was already looking at me, my breath hitched once i realized we were face to face. Our mouths were inches away, Kate lifted her hand to hold my cheek as we leaned towards each other.

Right as our lips were about to connect Clint came back “Katie! You both should be heading back in soon it's going to rain!” our heads turned towards him so fast im surprised we didn't get whiplash

Once he left we turned back to each other and laughed as Kate rested her forehead on my shoulder.

She lifted her head and laughed out “Some best friend he is!”

“It's okay Kate, we don't have to rush anything, you will have plenty of other opportunities to kiss me.” I kissed her cheek and walked away to head inside “You coming? It's going to rain.”

“Yeah you head in, I'll meet you inside!” Kate said with pink cheeks as she headed towards the target y/n had shot minutes prior to drag it inside so she could keep it safe.

The past week with Kate was heavenly. I had learned so much about her and all of her interests, she told me about everything and anything. I realized I was ready to tell her I loved her and was ready to marry her, but I had never found the right time. She was taking me out today to a ‘very special place’ so hopefully I would be able to tell her then.

She had made me put on a blindfold the second we got into the car claiming it was a secret, she had chosen to drive her own car which i loved since her purple Firebird was awesome. Once the car started to slow down I realized we were there.

As I was unbuckling my seatbelt I heard Kate get out of the car and run around to my side of the car.

She opened my door and grabbed my hand and stood behind me as she took off my blindfold. “Y/N i'm trusting you with this place because i love you and i want you to know all of me, this waterfall is my favorite thing in the whole kingdom, second to you of course.”

I looked around, and took in the gorgeous colors, it truly looked like a place you'd see on a greeting card.

“Y/N, Look at this!” Kate shouted from the top of the waterfall how she got there so fast and how i didnt notice is beyond me.

“Kate, get down from there you're gonna get hurt!”

As soon as I said that she jumped off into the water below, after waiting a few seconds for her to come to the surface, she didn't pop back up.

“Kate stop it, you're scaring me Kathrine!” no response “god damnit bishop” i said as i ran and jumped into the water.

The second I jumped in and my body hit the freezing water, there she was popping her head back up.

I swam over to her laughing form and hit her shoulder “you scared me, don't ever do that again! I thought I lost you before I had the chance to tell you I love you, you idiot.”

Her eyes widened and she smiled “you love me?”

“Of course I love you Kate, I have for a while now. Since the day we almost kissed at the archery range. I've had feelings for you since you walked into my bakery and asked me to wed you” i smiled at her lovingly

I wrapped my arms around her neck as her hands came down to rest on my waist. “Kate, can I kiss you?”

“Yes y/n please kiss me.” kate begged

The second she said yes our lips were crashing against one another. My fingers ran through her hair and her grip on my waist tightened, we parted smiling and slightly out of breath as our foreheads rested against one another.

“I love you Kate.” i finally whispered

Kate smiled “You don't understand how badly I've wanted to hear you say that. Y/N i truly deeply love you.”

Our lips found eachother once again, but this time it wasnt messy or rough it was just passionate. As her grip on my waist tightened again I pulled her even closer to me, we were soaking wet kissing under a waterfall, it was like one of those cheesy scenes in a rom-com.

As we broke away again I smiled at her “Did you just quote Padme from Attack of the Clones to tell me you love me?”

The raven haired woman smirked “Maybe I did, maybe I didn't.”

“Marry me Kate.” her eyes widened and smile deepened. “I'm ready to marry you.

Two weeks later we were married. The wedding was a lovely lilac and white theme with plenty of people in attendance. The honeymoon was even better if you catch my drift. When we got back home Kate had gifted me with the target I had shot all those weeks ago, the arrow still embedded in the bullseye.

#kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x female reader #princess kate #ROYAL AU #modern royalty au #kate #katherine eleanor bishop my beloved #kathrine bishop #kate bishop is adorable #i love princess kate #royal kate bishop #kate bishop fanfiction #fluff #kate bishop fic #kate bishop fluff

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360iris · 2 years

Text

falling in love (with a feeling) | poly!prongsfoot x reader | mafia!au

“My mother taught me that the only way to get over a man is to get under another one.” Percilla said with a devious, lopsided smirk. An hour and a half ago, she’d all but pushed her way into your apartment, making a strategic beeline towards your closet, hauling a pink duffle bag half her size over her arm.

“Of course, she didn’t take different gender preferences into account back then, and she wasn’t exactly a saint in those years either. But ignoring the way she freezes up now, acting like it’s hard business to recall what I see as pivotal moments of her influence on me as a child- I found that it works like a charm!”

She was an almost comical mass of multiple moving parts. Running a comb through your hair one moment, rifling through your drawers and pressing various articles of clothing into your hands the next.

A little black dress, smoky eye, and glossed lips with loose hair and you were deemed ready. ‘Keep it simple and any interested parties will do the rest!’ She’d remarked proudly. Throwing the last of her things back into the oversized bag before setting it in the corner of your bathroom, grabbing her purse and walking to the door with a purpose; the Lyft ride had already been waiting for three whole minutes by then.

But rooms full of inebriated, horny strangers had never been your style, and people you don’t know pose unwarranted dangers while sleeping with them foretold even more. So without a single intention to follow her plan to the last bulletin, you decide to simply enjoy what you could and head home with your conscience intact.

Though instead of her usual stomping grounds, she’d brought you to the more expensive side of town. An A-list club which was guaranteed to house the most well off socialites in the city. The name very faintly registering even if you couldn’t place where, or in what context exactly it had been mentioned.

“Marauder’s Map? Perc, I’ve never been here before. And I definitely don’t have the cash for more than two drinks.” You’d said feeling quite apprehensive but sticking close behind her nonetheless; following even as she exited the car cutting the entire line of waiting patrons and blaring the bright screen of her phone in the bouncer’s face.

Much to your surprise, the towering man does not berate the two of you. Instead his mouth purses to the side, a thick brow arching quizzically as he grimly asks, “And the phrase is?”

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Then, without any hassle or need for lengthy explanations, you’re both allowed inside. Granted a smooth entry as she grabs ahold of your hand, expertly guiding you through groups of people like a woman on a mission.

“I haven’t told you,” She speaks in a secretive tone, linking an arm with yours and slowing her stride as she scans the room, and the countless faces it holds, with a discerning eye. “But, I met a guy. He’s rich, like Will Smith or Jay Z and Beyoncé building-generational-fucking-wealth rich. And he’s gorgeous, of course. That has to be a given, no matter the amount of money he has.”

“And you have, or you're actively trying to sleep with him?” You ask, studying her perfectly pretty face with her highlighted blonde hair, overlined eyes and sateen lips- fully thinking that she was just stunning, and crazy, enough to pull off bagging some nameless, New York City billionaire socialite.

She stops walking and turns to you with raised brows like you’re missing something that’s right in front of your face.

“No, you dummy.” She laughs and it’s an airy but fond kind of sound. One that peppers your cheeks with soft puffs of air before jovially filling the space around you. “I’m trying to marry him.”

Oh, you think. Eyebrows lifting before you're the one that’s letting out a quiet laugh.

She doesn’t like that however, releasing your arm and allowing it to slap back down to your side as her lips morph into a displeased frown.

“Perc, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just shocked, is all.” You say immediately after, attempting to do quick and precise damage control. “I mean, you’re younger than me and twenty just seems like an awfully young age to literally tie yourself to someone else. Let alone some guy with as much affluence and cash to throw as you say he has.”

“He’s not just some guy, like I found him at a 7/11 and decided he was the one. He’s one of the most well-known men in the state, not to mention the entire country. And you not being ready when you were my age does not automatically dictate the rest of the world’s timeline. I know what I want, and I will not be laydoned with someone else’s insecurities.” The words slip past her lips like water from a tap and you stand there stunned and quiet; blinking at her, as you think she might as well have just slapped you clean in the face, and saved you the mental gymnastics.

“‘Cilla!” A voice calls out from behind her, ripping the two of you out of the tense space you’d found yourself sunken in.

When the man comes into view, he wraps an overly familiar arm over her shoulders and there's a stark height difference compared to either of you. A few integral inches which make it so that he has to subtly bend his neck to properly look her in the eyes.

His sleek, raven black hair tucked behind one ear as the opposing side curtains his face like flowing silk, caressing his cheeks and resting at his shoulders.

Black slacks with a matching dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleek boots fitted on his feet. Thin, gold chains glint around his neck in the dim light as the open space reveals a multitude of tattoos, the ink continuing down his exposed forearms where the sleeves have been rolled up. He is gorgeous, a true Samson, and you decide then and there, that you hate him. Or, at the very least, feel inconvenienced by him in more ways than one.

“Sirius,” Percilla greets with a warm smile, her mood considerably dampened but seemingly willing herself to perk back up as she reminds herself of the main objective.

“Comment allez-vous? I’m glad you could make it.” He asks before immediately defeating the purpose of speaking, his middle and index finger gently coaxing her jaw so that her neck turns further to face him, making you stand witness to the way his lips interlock with her own.

It ends just as quickly as it was initiated before those steely blue eyes are turning on you and the effect is borderline frightful. His attention makes your skin feel clammy and as though your body is burning at a temperature of 105, and you’re certain that regardless of how needlessly overdramatic the word is, you’re certain that you hate him.

“And who is this?” He asks, oddly refusing to break eye contact with you.

“My friend, the one I told you about? You might not remember.” She answers and you internally blanche.

“No, no. I remember now!” He laughs as he‘s reminded of whatever god awful event or memory she’d previously recounted to him, extending his free hand towards you. “Sirius Black. It’s nice to finally put a name to a face. Ravi de faire votre connaissance.”

You stare blankly at the larger, outstretched fingers, look back up at him and force your lips to contort into a thin-mouthed smile, “Enchantée.”

Turning to Percilla with the same false glee, you jerk your head towards the bar with a curt, “Don’t let me keep you, I’ll be at the bar.” Before giving him one final smile and departing.

Sliding over a bar stool, you stare at the bartender, aware of the fact that there’s plenty of other people who’ve either ordered or are waiting to order- but after a solid four minutes pass, you’re certain the asshole is purposefully ignoring you.

“Malcolm.” A low voice chimes above your head and with a quick glance you find that Sirius has slipped in alongside you with ease, the bartender nearly breaking his neck with the speed at which he turns in your direction before clearing the distance in two and half steps.

“Now what would you like, dear?” The handsome bastard asks, tilting his head towards you like he could wait all night for an answer. All of his attention and focus circled in on you.

The sexist bartender looks at him, while he looks at you and you peer back with furrowed brows and pursed, glossy lips.

‘Well, at least I can finally order.’ You inwardly grumble, letting out a sigh before breathing out an answer, “Brandy Old-Fashioned, washed with lemon-lime soda. Three cherries, please.”

Sirius continues to lean against the bar on one elbow, legs crossed at the ankles as he looks down at you, his eyes slightly narrowed with the faintest smirk turning up the corners of his mouth as he slowly nods, turns and orders as well. “The usual. Both are on me, Malcolm.”

“Coming right up, sir.” The younger man replies before making quick, but precise work of it as though someone lit a fire under his ass.

“You own the place.” You quietly remark, looking up at him as a shot glass is presented in front of him with a soft clank, an even mix of ginger ale and whiskey.

“Partially. One-fourth, split evenly.” He answers, smirking like a human Cheshire Cat.

Your drink arrives, precisely how you asked for it and Sirius gives the boy a curt nod, signaling for him to return to assisting other waiting customers. And maybe it’s the slow way you sip from the glass, biting into a maraschino cherry tentatively, or just the look in your eye, but his mouth switches to a smile as he throws back the shot, emptying it in a single gulp and deftly wetting his lips.

“You’re the style consultant.” He says appraisingly, perhaps verbally jogging his memory. “The one who works in the luxury suit shop, doing fittings and resizing slacks.”

You silently nod, eyeing him suspiciously with furrowed brows. “Yeah.”

“‘Cilla mentioned you a few nights back, said you wouldn’t tell her everything that was going on but she suspected it was taking a toll- that you were stressed.” His eyes were narrowed, a rye smile gracing his lips as he spoke. “She thought a night out would do some good, take your mind off things.”

“Did she?” You ask rhetorically, voice dry.

“Yeah.” He nods, “And is it?”

“What?”

“Is it helping distract you?” He prods, as if it’s any of his business, or concern.

Downing the last of your drink, the ice tinkles melodically as you set it back down. “No. It hasn’t.”

Coping with the ending of a three year long relationship was one thing. You could learn to do the mundane activities alone again, could get over how isolating it felt to crawl into bed and know there was no one to join you.

Giving up your apartment, figuring out an entirely new living arrangement and shifting money around so that rent and bills could be covered by a job that hadn’t been intended to carry all of that responsibility was another.

Pinching pennies and having to choose between budgeting or enjoying yourself had a way of slowly draining the life out of you until all that was left were irrational anxieties, fears and feelings of hopelessness. You didn’t want to talk about it because you had to live with the reality of the situation every second of the day and you hardly expected someone younger than you to be able to help much, so naturally Percilla wouldn’t know the full story.

“I figured as much.” He agrees, tapping the bar and smiling down at you as you all but glare back. “You've had a drink, why don’t you head home? I’ll keep an eye on Percilla, make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble this time around- and send her back to her flat in one piece with a story to tell.”

“Though for you, rest will do you more good than standing around in those high heels will.” He jests cheekily, looking particularly pleased at the way you glower at his poking remark but before you can reply, he’s shooting a wink at you and walking away; his dark form dissolving between the throngs of people.

part II

#mafia!marauders #mafia au #sirius black x reader #the marauders x reader #the marauders #prongsfoot #sirius black imagine #sirius black #sirius black x reader x james potter #poly marauders #hp blurb #hp #harry potter blurb #harry potter #marauders era #harry potter imagine

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gwen-parker2014 · 11 months

Text

under the mistletoe

reader: named Alana, ditzy (golden retriever gf), has a toxic mom

genre: angst, fluff, best friends to lovers <3

౨ৎ

You shifted uncomfortably in your armchair, playing with the hem of your skirt. The pleated plaid fabric was now worn, the edges fraying from overuse. Your mother had bought it for you last Christmas, and it was so gorgeous you wore it at least once a week in the winter.

You checked your watch, tapping your fingernails impatiently on the arm of the chair. Peter was late. You had no idea how long you could last alone with your mother.

As you nervously sipped your hot cocoa, the doorbell rang. You smiled, knowing exactly who was it was. Placing your mug on the coffee table, you dashed for the door so as not to let your guest freeze.

Your smile faded when you saw your younger brother and his girlfriend.

“Hey!" your brother's warm smile faltered after noticing your evident disappointment. "Don’t look too excited to see me, it’s not like I haven’t seen you in months. Peter’s not here yet?” He gave you a knowing smirk.

“I didn’t think you were him! I…I just thought you were Dad,” you lied through a tight-lipped smile. Clearly, he didn't believe you but decided, thankfully, not to tease you about it.

“This is my girlfriend, Taylor," the girl gave you an unnecessarily toothy grin, throwing you off with her excessive friendliness. "Move it or lose it, sister. Go daydream about Parker in your old room or something.” He grabbed her hand, pushing past you to greet your mother. Taylor gave you a sheepish smile, mouthing a "sorry" for your brother's behavior.

You were about to close the door when you heard an, “Am I late?”

You whipped around, already grinning like an idiot. Even just the sound of his voice did that to you.

Peter stood in front of you in his pine green parka and dorky spiderman hat, two huge bouquets in hand. You wrapped your arms around him, popping your feet off the floor in your excitement. It was a miracle he was still standing since you practically barreled into him with all your strength, but he caught you, shifting the flowers to rest behind your back.

"Did ya miss me?" Peter pouted playfully, his puppy eyes trained down at you with nothing but adoration.

"Mhmm," you nodded vigorously into his collar, simultaneously catching a whiff of his earthy cologne.

His eyes crinkled in affection at your energy. You felt so right in his arms, he never wanted to let go. He would do everything in his power to protect you for the rest of his life.

He stepped inside and handed you the flowers. Pink roses with baby's breath. He knew you better than the back of his palm.

Peter admired every little thing about you, like how even now, you reached up to fix a loose bobby pin in your messy bun. You always looked so pretty even when you weren't trying. His gaze softened when he looked down at your outfit.

“Are you wearing my sweater?” he asked coyly. Your eyes widened. You hadn’t even noticed you had it on. You had "borrowed it" a couple weeks ago without telling him. He had looked everywhere for it and now the girl of his dreams was wearing it.

“Wha-No. This thing?…Yes?” your face flushed a deep shade of maroon as you turned from him to place the flowers on the countertop. Peter smirked. He had made you flustered, and he was enjoying every moment of it.

“Keep it, it looks better on you. Maybe ask next time though,” he chuckled as you covered your face with both hands.

You led Peter to the couch, gingerly taking a seat beside your mother.

“Peter! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here, I don’t think Alana can stand me for much longer without you! You got yourself a girlfriend yet?” you groaned at your mother's incessant badgering. Poor Peter had barely stepped into your home, and she was already interrogating him.

“Mom, stop! Leave Peter alone. I’m sure a pretty girl will come along eventually and sweep him off his feet,” you rolled your eyes.

She already did, Peter wanted to say.

“Jeez, baba, don’t be such a Grinch. This is why you don’t have a boyfriend,” your mother mumbled.

You scoffed, trying not to let her throwaway comment ruin your day. “Please, Mom. How did this go from-”

“Lana, I need to talk to you…about our assignment?” Peter cut in. You took a deep breath and nodded, letting Peter drag you to your room.

“What do you actually want to talk about?” your eyes were wide with wonder.

Oh, God. Peter gulped, steeling himself. It was now or never. He couldn't hold it in any longer. He really hoped he didn't blow this, he cared about you more than anything in this world.

“You?” it came out like a question. He ran his fingers through his curls, a nervous old habit that was second nature to you as much as him. Now that he was in a room alone with you he was full on freaking out. Man, he should've planned this out better.

“Me? Why would we talk about me? Is everything okay, Pete?” you looked up at him, voice soft.

“Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I just…didn’t want you to fight with your mom…again,” he looked down at his holey socks, disappointment creasing his features.

You sighed, taking a seat on your bed, motioning for Peter to join you. He sat down and you turned to take his hands in yours. You always liked holding them, they made you feel protected and cared for.

“I love that you care so much, you know?” your voice was barely above a whisper as you gazed into his beautiful brown eyes. He was almost convinced you could see into his soul with that earnest heart of yours.

“How could I not? I mean, I love you,” Peter blurted. Your eyes widened. He what? Peter didn’t realize his mistake till you retracted your hands, settling them on your lap.

“You love me?” you were shocked.

“Pfft…No. Unless you want me to?” he played with his fingers nervously, too scared to look at you anymore. He had messed things up enough already. “Please just...forget I said anything. This is embarrassing enough already.”

“Peter-” you began.

“Don’t feel bad, Lana. I know you're way out of my league, and it could never work out,” Peter rambled on.

“Peter!” you exclaimed.

“What?” he looked at you, noticing you were holding his hands again.

“I love you too,” Peter didn’t register your words at first.

You loved him?

“You do? You’re not just saying that as a joke? Or to make me feel better?” he asked, not quite believing what he was hearing. You nodded, smiling softly up at him.

“I do. A lot,” you brought your hands up to cup his face. Your face was burning up, but you were convinced that you were never more sure of something your entire life. All you wanted to do was kiss Peter. And you finally could. You started leaning in, your faces inching closer and closer. Your lips brushed his gently, testing the waters before you dove in.

You felt nothing but euphoria. You had been dreaming about this since you were twelve. You poured five years of pent up desire into deepening the kiss, not caring that his nose smashed against your cheek or that his mouth tasted like the stale hotdog he had probably devoured on the bus ride here. You thought his lips tasted just like home.

Your breathing came in heavy pants, but you weren't ready to pull away. You wrapped your arms around his neck, which made him that much crazier about you. Peter pulled you onto his lap, arms secure around your waist, holding on like his life depended on it.

You finally pulled away, staring at each other, still not convinced this was really happening. Your face felt hotter than the sun, Peter's no doubt mirroring the crimson blush spread all over it. The sleeve of your sweater had fallen and was now exposing your shoulder. Your lips were swollen, like they'd been sucked by a vacuum cleaner. Or by an idiot teenage boy who was head over heels for you.

Peter thought you had never looked more beautiful. You tried to fix your hair to no avail. Peter grinned, adjusting you on his lap. You laughed shyly as he began pecking your face, dotting each kiss with an, "I love you."

“Hey, look!” you pointed at the ceiling. Peter looked up, chuckling. Ironically there was a mistletoe, hanging right above you. Your dad must’ve put it there. You buried your face into Peter’s chest out of embarrassment.

“I want every Christmas to be just like this,” Peter whispered softly, tenderly kissing your temple. He could get used to this.

౨ৎ

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ramayantika · 2 years

Text

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬: 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

(Apna apna sab choose karlo 👀)

Bharatanatyam

The girl in red and gold. Never steps out of the house without a bindi, loves the sun a little too much and gets the perfect golden hour photos. Will drag you out in the sun to prove that her hair is brown. Looks no less than a goddess in traditionals, rocks desi wear as well as western, always the best dressed in the room and sometimes the overdressed one. A walking saree encyclopedia, dreams to have a large wardrobe just for her sarees. Will also lend you some of her sarees and drapes them so well. If you are wearing a saree for a date, ask her for help. Reads a lot of detective books maybe, ranging from Sherlock Holmes to Feluda. Has learnt martial arts too, armed with wit, got the best comebacks and will fight for her friends. Highly intimidating when you meet her first until you get to witness the soft sunshine version of her. Photogenic, loves the camera, could also be a model. Her walk radiates power and confidence. Ambitious and full of ideas, commands attention easily with a snap of ger fingers. Heads turn at her when she enters the room, an eloquent speaker because she is well read. Tries to spread happiness in her own ways, knows everyone in her neighbourhood, is friends with everyone, right from the little kids to the oldies in the park, the Mother hen of her group. Loves puppies and will cry while watching cute puppy videos. Cooks delicious dishes and watch her lash out if she finds out that you skipped breakfast. A pure soul, too kind and generous for the world and does her best in spreading happiness around her.

'It's honestly a choice which we have to make. We can choose to see everything as cold and heartless around us or start seeing at the brighter side of things. Trust me, the latter is a better choice. Why would someone want to live such a miserable life laced with bitterness and resent. I know I cannot singlehandedly make everything right in the world, but I can surely make a difference in at least a single person's life? Why focus on things at the greater scale when we can make changes that should starts from us?"

Odissi

The shy girl next door, writes poetry in her rough notebook, hopeless romantic and a daydreamer. For her, outing means a visit to the temple. Ardent admirer of all types of art, stares at temple sculptures and statues, and is also a history lover. Pink lip gloss, jasmine flowers and a doe-eyed beauty. Makes flower jewellery and will gift you many of her own works if you are her friend. Wears light coloured clothes and minimal accessories, light feminine, crushes over book characters and will make you see the best traits in yourself but forgets to look at the good in herself. Recites romantic poetry in front of the mirror and pretends to be someone's muse, replaces herself with the characters in period dramas Has gorgeous hair but will always keep them in a messy bun, but god when she lets her hair down, she looks like an angel. Her social life includes playing with children and narrating them stories and fairytales.

'His lips gently follow the trail of the small dots of sandalwood paste on her back. It forms a serpentine path on her skin and ends on the curve of her waist where his lips gently caress her soft skin, delighted at the treasure gifted by the perfumed trail.'

"You haven't even held hands with a boy and yet you can come up with this? How?"

"Oh, it's nothing. You have to see my writing journal and you will definitely believe that I am well versed in the arts of love."

"Arts of love? Who uses that?"

"Me. Now come, let's watch Jodha Akbar."

"Again?!"

Kathak

Kurtis and Anarkalis. Has long hair that is half of the time braided. Might also wear a parandi at events. Shayari aur ghazalein, listens to old Bollywood songs late at night under the moon on the terrace. Star gazing, late night deep conversations, vintage clothing, would write you hand written love letters. Knows hindustani music, sings late at night and sometimes in the early hours of dawn. Aankhon mein gehra kajal jise dekh na jane kitne uske aashiq bann gaye, deep eyes that will stare into your soul, loves to wear red lipstick and will wear silver jewellery with every outfit. To win her heart? Take her jhumke shopping. She is the desi pinterest aesthetic. Bases her personality on Sahibjaan from Pakeezah, Anarkali from Mughal-E-Azam, Umrao Jaan and Chandramukhi from Devdas. Has desi aesthetic moodboards on Pinterest and lives like it too minus the havelis and lots of expensive jewellery. If you are a poet, she will end up proposing you.

'जो मेरा नाम अपनी शायरी में अमर कर दे

मरूंगी तो केवल उस शायर के नाम'

"Umrao jaan 2.0 apni pariksha ki taiyari kare aapke non existent premi kavi ya shayar marks nahi dilayenge"

"Tauba tauba sara mood kharab kar diya"

Kuchipudi

Was made to learn dance and music as a child, knows how to play the veena or the sitar well, cannot sing but will play the instrument for you if you ask. Gold jewellery? No. Silver jewellery? No. Pearls? Absolutely! An all rounder, academically brilliant as well as in extra-curriculars, perfectionist and will breakdown at the slightest inconvenience. Loves to go on long walks, sunset photography, has a collection of journals and hauls stationary items. Collects fallen flowers and keeps them inside her books. soft smiles, long artistic fingers that always have ink spots, a small but a close friend group, wishes on flowers, so quiet that you might not her speak at times, notices the minute things about her friends and the people she meets. Looks too long into the mirror and loses herself, has too many questions but will never ask. Has pretty crazy dreams that could become book plots.

"Do you ever stare at your eyes in the mirror for a very long time? Do you feel your reflection change? Those eyes that look back at you... they have so much to say, they carry so many secrets inside them even though at a superficial level, it might seem that your reflection and you are the same, but it's not. When I look at myself in the mirror, I feel it's not me. I am not her nor am I anyone else. I feel I am a part of the galaxies, of stars and planets and of souls -- that I have existed here a long time ago and I have been reborn again for unknown reasons, reasons that somewhere my would would know. Do you not feel the same?"

Kathakali

Athletic, into sports, highly dramatic, can and will recite film dialogues at every situation, has a larger than life attitude, grand gestures and celebrations for her favourite people as well as for herself, always brimming with energy even at 3am, colourful flashy clothes that make her stand distinct from everyone, make-up game on point, a HUGE foodie, takes you to the best eateries and restaurants, indulges in pranks and all sorts of harmless mischief that makes her endearing, expresses everything just with her eyes. You can't say no to her because she will conjure such a facial expression that it would be difficult to say no which is why she gets away with mischief. Will debate about literature and philosophy, has a lot of knowledge about historical texts and scriptures, can easily make you laugh by imitating characters from stories and tales. Will also spam you with her thoughts and opinions on text and if you are in her close friend circle, keep your phone on because she will immerse herself about the latest book she read. Races with kids from her colony and lets them win, gully cricket vali didi, street smart, procrastinates assignments until the deadline is knocking at the door. Knows the secret spots in the city as well as their stories, has the best horror stories to narrate at a campfire.

"I know it's 2am, but is it okay if-"

"Even if I say no, you will tell me, but I am interested. Speak."

"What if all the characters in our epics were us, I mean like us normal human beings who achieved greatness and such divine status because of their work and somehow maybe that was the truth, but with time, we began thinking that we are not capable of becoming like them so we decided that we would take the credit of their hard work and replace it with magical powers and worship them, but not try and become like them? And somehow so many ideal kings, queen, warriors and artists when then look at us from heaven want us to achieve the same level of greatness like them? But they are sad that we think so less of ourselves? I am not denying God's presence though, don't get me wrong on that. I am talking about all the great people from stories that have been passed down to us. I do appreciate the creativity and imagination of the writers and poets involved, but what if we are actually failing to look more deeper into it. What if they want us to go beyond the veil of imagination in those stories and find ourselves in them?"

Manipuri

One word: Ethereal. Doesn't look like she belongs to this world. You saw her first at a waterfall, dressed in white and red shades, mostly prefers pastel shades, makes beautiful flower bouquets, has got a very melodious voice and when she sings by the waterfall with the swans sitting beside her, she appears like a water nymph. Playful eyes, whispers words, will wink and smile at you before disappearing into a run. She walks as if she is floating, got the lightest feet, soft dewy skin, nature's daughter. Sings before the Gods in temples, always has a peacock feather with her, makes one wonder if she is a human or someone divine, wants to live in a cottage overlooking lush green hills.

"Ironic isn't it that beauty, riches, pride, nothing shall exist in the end because we shall go back to mother nature, Prakriti? I shall be ash, a small heap of ash in the future and my stories, my experiences, the beauty which people love to talk about, nothing will exist. Even when humans leave a piece of land, they think it shall be dead and decayed, but they have forgotten Prakriti's nature. She is nourishing and a healer. She shall be the only one remaining."

Mohiniyattam

Loves to sit by a riverbank, serenity, looks at you as if she knows everything about you even about the words you shall speak next, mysterious vibe, doesn't trust anyone easily, lotuses are her favourite. Who is the girl standing waist deep in the river looking at the moon? Loves to wear alta on her hands and feet, wears anklets, longing side glances, perfectly arched eyebrows, dances in the rain, photographs everything, a natural charmer, goes to museums and coffee. Date ideas? Boat rides for evenings. A very private person, doesn't reveal much about herself, contemplates about Life and the Universe, space geek, stars are her friends.

When I look at you, at your great depths, I marvel at the power you have subdued while flowing through the land of Man. Born from the great peaks of mountain ranges, like a young girl who is pulsating with energy, you flow down your father's abode. Were you aware of your strength then? You cut through rocks, found your way through dense forests, and finally emerged into our land. We took you granted, knowing you shall forever exist for us, that you shall always nurture our bodies, our minds and our souls, until we witnessed your dance of death.

I wondered how Lasya, the feminine style of dance, also known as Goddess Parvati's style of dancing could be destructive? You swirled to great heights. With each turn, your colour darkened, absorbing the green from trees, the white from clouds, yellow from the sun, blue from the dawn and purple from sunsets. In the end your colour changed to brown and grey as you engulfed everything we held dear. You ultimately showed your hidden strength that you possesses in the days of girlhood until you heard us wail and weep. Motherhood came back to you, and with time, you began nursing us once again. The city repaired itself, we began learning about the secrets of life and death on your banks and children played with your gentle waters. And then you longed for love, so you advanced towards the sea, merging with its grand form. Once, I used to see it as a way of losing your entire identity, but now I see it as being one. You nourish man in the city and then with your dear love, the mighty sea, you nourish the life that resides inside water. I would like to be something like that.

"Is that why you spend so much time at the river?"

"Yes."

Sattriya

Plays the flute, the most non violent human, will never get angry, calm voice that might lead you to deep sleep. Nobody has seen her even glare at someone. Gold jewellery, squints at the sun, sings devotional songs for Krishna, cannot eat spicy food, lives in the hills, will definitely win if you race against her in the hills, knows quiet spots to appreciate the valleys. Has a great deal of knowledge about herbal medicines, one touch and you will feel that the pain is gone. Has Diy skin care methods ready, gives the best oil massage, cold hands in winter, looks adorable when covered in a shawl, red cheeks that appear like natural blush, makes the best tea.

"Close your eyes, open your ears and your mind too. You might begin to understand the language of the hills. They will send you messages of rain clouds, soft kisses of wintery breeze, fragrance of spring and gently warmth of the sun. Sometimes, if you look closely enough, you might get to know who you are in this world in front of them."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ‧͙⁺ ˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙◌

I DID IT :D

Even though it's based on dance, but everyone isn't into dance, so i did try my best to make it inclusive and ofc i had to write these paragraphs because I felt more creative lol (just to sum up the vibes maybe that's why) It was a bit tricky to make for Sattriya and Manipuri. I looked up some articles and then some Assam and Manipur tourism videos and also some of theri dance videos too for this. Now I mentioned some of rhe traits and stuff based on the dancing history and the repertoire plus also from the place where it belongs too

Tell me your favorite one and which one you relate to the most.

Shoutout to @remen-nyoodless for the hindi lines

Tagging: @yehsahihai @swayamev @sanskari-kanya @navaratna @daddojanam @pulihora @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic @aapki-pyaari-sakhi @kuhuchan @arachneofthoughts @vedajananixx @pothosinpots @eugenephosgene @reallythoughtfulwizard @ma-douce-souffrance

#desiblr #danceblr #desi academia #dance academia #types of girls #aesthetic posts #desi aesthetic #classical dance

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scorpioriesling · 6 months

Text

Unsettled (pt. 2)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairings: None, yet. ;)

Warnings: None!

Summary: On another trip to the estate, Y/N is faced with a proposition that any girl in the Spring court could only ever desire.

SR’s Note: Read part one first! This won’t make sense if you don’t. I’ll be adding more parts soon!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“Why am I always the one having to do the deliveries?” You asked, your whining tone exposing the attitude under your usually mature demeanor. Your mother didn’t meet your eyes as the continued to tie the intricate bow of twine on the bundle of pink tulips laid before her. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow inside the flower shop your family owned, and the stained glass windows sent stripes of rainbow light stretching across the tile floors and light pink painted walls.

“Well, my dear,” your mother begins. Her tone was soft with you, as it always was. “… your father is still finishing the deliveries from yesterday, and the routes for today are a bit longer than the easy deliveries in town.” She completed the bow of twine with a quick pull, and holds the bundle up to inspect her work. “You’ve also got young limbs — you can afford the ride to the estate and back better than I can.”

You were talking yourself down in your head, telling yourself the summer afternoon sun probably wouldn’t cook you like an egg when you hear her mention the High Lord’s home. Your head whips around to her in surprise.

“Tamlin has ordered flowers from us?” You ask, trying not to let the intrigue show in your tone. Your mother only shrugs.

“Someone certainly has. Your father and I had been splitting the deliveries to the estate, but seeing as you are here and on the clock today, I figured you could take it this time.” She seems disinterested in the conversation, but you couldn’t be more invested.

“So… this has happened before?” You ask. She carries the tulips to the front door, pushing it open and motioning for you to follow. You do, and she keeps talking.

“Well, yes I suppose. A few times a week, for… oh goodness I don’t know… maybe since you delivered that uh, wreath the first time,” she’s huffing and securing the flowers into a small riding bag now, my horse already saddled and prepared for the task. “I’m just glad to know someone in that palace liked our flowers so much. They’ve been paying extra for special delivery, every single time.” She stands back up, brushing off the front of her smock and cocking a brow when a thought seems to cross her mind. “Say… what exactly was exchanged the first time you delivered to the estate?”

Your cheeks heat, and you feel the tangled web forming in your stomach. You quickly hoist yourself on your mare, trying to drop the conversation. “I will deliver these as quickly as possible! Wouldn’t want to keep Tamlin waiting, right? Paying extra and all?” You smile sheepishly down at your mother, and she returns the gesture.

“All I’m saying Y/N is that I wouldn’t be surprised by someone pulling out extra efforts just to see my gorgeous girl. High Lord or not.” You grin, and your mother steps back towards the glass door of the shop, waving as you begin your journey to that dreaded estate once more.

ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

It isn’t long before you’re at the iron gates again. This time, you notice the thick vines of roses and thorns etching across some of the bars, pulling as the doors open without so much as a step near them this time. You’re grateful; your hands are already clammy. Raising a shaky one to knock might have been embarrassment enough.

Each step toward the front staircase has you worried. Will the Vanserra male be here again? You shake your head once, pushing those thoughts out. That’s not the reason you’re here; you’re just here to deliver the High Lord his flowers.

One step. Two steps. Three steps. Ten.

It doesn’t take long before you’re at the massive wooden doors atop the stairs. You didn’t make it this far last time, and seeing the doors up close with all of their miniature garden and beast carvings — well, it’s magnificent.

You knock once, but the door doesn’t open smoothly like the gates did. You wait for a few moments, the stems growing more slick with sweat in your palms with each passing second. Maybe no one was home?

You turn to begin your descent down the stairs and back to your mare, when the door begins to creak open. You pivot, hearing the noise and quickly following that, your eyes do not betray you. The door was inching open, and stepping into the light was the golden-haired, High Lord of the Spring court himself.

He flashes you a small smirk, and you shyly smile back. Words. You need to form words and say something.

“Hi, um, hello. Uh… heheheh…” You nervously fiddle with the cellophane on the tulip bundle in your hands. “Uh. I’m just here to deliver these.” Your eyes don’t leave the mossy green ones peering at you from the now open doorway, and Tamlin crossed his arms and leans against the doorframe.

“Well, it’s lovely to finally meet you, “just-here-to-deliver-these.” He stands there, smiling at you. No teeth, no intimidation. Rather, an invitation. To converse.

You swallow a particularly dry lump in your throat and try not to let your laugh sound too skittery. “Oh! Uhm well, hahah, uh that’s not my name uh… it’s Y/N. Actually.” You bare a wide, toothy smile and hold out a hand to shake.

His grin doesn’t falter, though his eyes seem to darken like he’s eating you alive. He glances at your hand, and meets your eyes again.

Please shake my hand; I know it’s a dumb gesture but spare me please, you beg in your mind.

His fingers take your hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he pulls the back of your palm to his lips and gently kisses it. The sight would have anyone in the Spring court falling to the floor; the High Lord with your hand in his? What an honor…

“Well then, Y/N,” he finally speaks again, sliding the door open farther. “Come in, please. The warm weather must be sweltering after the journey here.” Your eyes widen in response, your hand still in his. He turns to lead you inside, and the instant relief you feel from the aerated estate is wonderful, to say the least.

He walks you into a large front room, with a table and empty vase atop it. He stops before the table, turning to look at you once more. You look up at him, and the matted, tangly string pulls inside of you once more. He offers a tiny grin, reaching to take the bouquet from you. When he does, his fingers brush yours and the string inside of you lurches. You let go of the flowers, lost in the stare he’s offering you when you hear what sounded like a door closing. You almost didn’t register the sound of footsteps, when suddenly you hear-

“Delivering flowers ourselves these days, are we?” You’re no longer focused on the High Lord, but rather his minion who’s taunting you once more. You don’t need to look to see who the voice belongs to, but you spare him a glance anyways.

Just as you suspected.

“You weren’t outside ready to jump on me this time,” a brow narrows and a small smirk forms on your lips. “… I’m glad you allow your High Lord to receive gifts from other fae than just yourself.” He rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh.

“Or maybe I was just quicker getting to the door than you this time.” That doesn’t make him happy, as his brows slowly furrow and his arms cross. You match his gaze.

Tamlin, however, clears his throat. “Ah… so I see you’ve met before?” He looks between you and the redhead a few feet away. He scoffs.

“Oh, we met alright. This one,” he points directly at you. “This one has trouble written allllll over her.” Your mouth opens in shock, failing to remember the sassiness you stood up to last time.

Tamlin chuckles, finding amusement in the interaction.

“Y/N, this,” he motions to the cocky male standing before you. “…is Lucien Vanserra. He is the emissary for the Spring court, and has been a good friend of mine for quite some time.” He nods to Lucien. A Vanserra. You knew it. You square your shoulders and etch a curtsy to him, not bothering to hide the smug smile on your face. Lucien doesn’t pretend not to notice, either.

“Pleased to formally meet you, Lucien.” He shifts on his feet, and settles his hands on his hips.

“And your name is…?” He waves a hand, mockingly.

“Y/N. Her parents own the flower shop in the square, correct? Y/M/N & Y/D/N?” Tamlin answers for you before you even have a chance to retort. You slide your eyes to him. He must be the one ordering the flowers each week.

“Yes… uh. Yeah. That’s right.” You say. He nods once and Lucien looks unimpressed, arms folded once more.

“Very well then.” Tamlin says. He finally drops the tulips into the vase, and begins to pace.

“Well, if that’s all you needed-“

“It’s not; actually,” Tamlin says, cutting you off. Your brows curve in suspicion, and even Lucien looks surprised.

“Oh… uh. Okay, uhm… well what else did you…” you trail off. Tamlin settles his hands against the table, eyeing you from across it. Your cheeks heat, feeling his eyes wandering over you like a painting he may never see again. “…need?” You practically whisper.

“Tam, whatever it is, I’m sure myself or someone else could-“ Tamlin raises a hand in a gesture of silence, and Lucien directs a concerned look towards the High Lord.

“Not in an attempt to offend you, Lucien,” he begins again. “But I don’t want to ask you to the Spring Masquerade.” Your heart flutters. “I would rather ask this lovely lady here.” Your eyes widen.

“Wait wait… you’re asking me to the Spring Masquerade? A true invitation?” You ask. Tamlin smiles softly.

“Well, a traditional invitation would allow you to bring a guest with you. I want you to attend this ball as mine.” He says simply. Whatever shade of red your face was before, it has only deepened.

“Me? Go to this ball, with you?” You piece together. Lucien drags a hand down the side of his face.

“Tamlin, you cannot be serious-“

“I haven’t ever been to a ball before.” You say quietly. Tamlin pushes off the table and strides for you. You cast your eyes down to the tile before you.

“Well, allow me to make your first one a magical experience, then.” He pulls a stem from the bundle of tulips, and captures your hand in his. Turning it over, he places the flowering stem in your palm.

“I mean… how could I say no?” You ask, your eyes finally meeting his. A look of sheer delight passes over his features.

“Wonderful answer, Y/N.” He grins at you. You can’t help but to smile back. A ball. A real ball! With none other than the High Lord on your arm — what more could you ask for?

“You might be heading off soon,” Lucien interrupts. “There is a storm moving in.”

Well, maybe you could ask for Lucien to shut up sometimes. Tamlin lets go of your hand, straightening and motioning for the door.

“When can I expect to see you again? Before the ball, perhaps?” He asks. Lucien opens the front door and holds it, as if waiting for you to leave. You turn to Tamlin.

“The next time you order tulips.”

He smirks, waving you off as you descend the stairs. You can feel Lucien hot on your heels, and once the resounding noise of the door clicking close rings through the air, he doesn’t hold back.

“I don’t know why he’d even ask you to go to the ball with him.” He says, rather frustratedly. You’re almost to your horse when you notice the dark clouds ahead. You can’t waste much time arguing with Lucien today, but he would not be getting the last word.

“Oh what, because a High Lord asking a lesser fae to the Spring Masquerade is so unbelievable?” You throw back. He huffs and moves to stand right in front of you, amber eyes boring into what feels like your soul.

“Think about it. Have you even met this guy before?” He starts. You roll your eyes.

“He’s your best friend, right? Shouldn’t you be over here, selling all of his most remarkable traits to me? What kind of wing man are you?” You ask. Lucien’s expression turns… into something else. Something darker.

“Whatever Y/N.” He rolls his eyes and extends a hand, offering to help you onto your horse. You roll your shoulders back.

“I know how to mount myself, thank you.” You swing a leg over, just as a rumble of thunder shudders over the sky. Your mare shifts, in turn throwing you a tad off balance. The tulip you had in your hand is dropped to grab onto the harness instead. Lucien bends to pick it up, and then extends an arm to you. Brushing your hair back gently, he places the flower behind your ear, the touch inviting whatever invisible string in your tummy yet again.

“Have a safe trip home, Y/N.” He smiles up at you one last time before you begin your journey home.

:* ✧･ﾟ

Part 3

#a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #acofas #acosf #acotar #acotar smut #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien x reader

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