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#but thank you so much for the ask!!! 💖💖
reiding-writing · 2 days
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Hi congrats on the Milestone, for the event can i ask for prompts 15 and 16 (angsty ones) Ty! 💖💖
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EAVESDROP [CLIMACTERIC]
/ˈiːvzdrɒp/
15. "You heard that?”
16. "I didn't mean it.”
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WARNINGS: miscommunication (i hate and love miscommunication way too much), happy ending
spencer reid x gn!reader || fluff || 3.0k || event masterlist!!
a/n: when i said that these were going to be coming out slower i unfortunately meant it 😭 didn’t help that i had massive writer’s block with this one either rip—
main masterlist!!
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You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You just happened to get to the office early that morning and figured it’d be an opportune time to make yourself some coffee.
But once you heard your name in the mix of the conversation that Spencer and Morgan were having you found yourself waiting around the corner until they finished what they had to say.
“—should just ask,”
“That’s awkward, besides, if I was going to then it’d have to be something more meaningful,” You can hear Spencer sigh in exasperation as he shuts down Morgan’s suggestion, and your imagination tells you he probably has his face furrowed almost in a pout like he usually does when he’s frustrated.
“Then plan something, you can’t just wait for something to happen, you have to take action man,” Morgan sounds determined in his beliefs, and it leaves you with a furrowed expression as you try and piece together what they’re talking about and how it relates back to you.
Spencer wants to ask you something. In a ‘meaningful’ way. Because he’s been sitting around waiting for something for too long.
What?
“I know that,” Spencer lets out another sigh, and you can hear the sound of his mug hitting the kitchenette counter. “I’m just afraid that they’re going to turn me down, okay? I really like them and I want this to go well,”
If their conversation was a tv show you would’ve rewound it to hear what Spencer just said again.
Spencer Reid. Dr Spencer Walter Reid just openly admitted to liking you.
There’s a major part of your brain that tells you that he just meant it platonically, that he just really valued your friendship and didn’t want to ruin it by asking you whatever he was going to.
And then there was another part of your brain telling you that that was complete bullshit, because what kind of question could possibly be so bad that it would mean you didn’t want to be friends with him anymore?
It had to be something inherently romantic, or Spencer’s concerns wouldn’t make any logical sense, which was a very off brand thing for him.
“It’ll never ‘go well’ if you don’t actually ask,”
The small flutter in your heart only proves to increase at Morgan’s reply, and if you were an actual part of the conversation you’d agree with him.
You wanted Spencer to ask you whatever was plaguing his mind, whether it be to take you on a date somewhere or even if it’s just to get lunch with him on your shared break. Any step forward was a step in the right direction, and you wanted that next step.
He doesn’t.
The whole day goes by without a single peep from Spencer in relation to his little pep talk with Morgan in the morning, and it was beginning to frustrate you just a little.
Of course you wouldn’t actually be frustrated if you hadn’t overheard the conversation they were having, but that wasn’t your fault. It was like the fates were trying to bring you together.
And you were letting them drag you in whatever direction they deemed fit.
“Hey Spencer!” You catch him right as he steps into the elevator, and he sticks out a hand over the motion sensor to keep the door open for you.
“Hey,” Spencer gives you a small, awkwardly endearing smile as you join him inside the elevator, retracting his hand to grip the strap of his messenger bag.
“Thanks,” You let out a stuttered exhale as you catch your breath from the mild jog you made to reach the door, pulling on the shoulders of your shirt to straighten it back out.
“No problem,” He gives you another small smile, and then the conversation falls silent, the sound of the doors opening as the two of you reach the ground level being the only thing to break the stillness of your joined company.
You couldn’t really tel whether the lack of conversation was awkward or not, but you did know that the longer you were in his sole company the more that you wanted to oust your knowledge of his earlier conversation with Morgan, to the point where you were rehearsing how to bring it up in your head.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Spencer gives you a small wave as the two of you step out of the elevator and into the covered parking lot, stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning around to walk away before you can reply.
You swear you catch the tiniest glimpse of him mouthing something to himself with a furrowed expression as he turns around, like he’s berating himself for something, and your brain decides that it’s the perfect time to just go for it, his name tumbling out of your mouth to no consciousness of your own.
“Spencer—”
He turns around at your call and your throat goes dry, your impulsiveness biting you right in the ass as you lose your confidence immediately under his gaze. “Yeah?”
“You… uh-” You watch as his eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion, and you clear your throat to throw your inhibitions out the window. You couldn’t just not tell him now. “I overheard the conversation you were having this morning with Morgan, the uh… the one about me?”
You can practically see the colour drain from his face at your admission, and it immediately makes you regret bringing it up. He wasn’t ready yet.
“You-” He lets out a sharp exhale through his mouth, tugging at the strap of his back awkwardly. “You heard that?”
You give him a small guilty nod with your lips pressed together, and he sucks in a breath like he’s forgotten how to breathe. “How much of it did you hear..?”
“About… three quarters of it,”
He shuts his eyes, head dropping until the hair framing his face catches against his eyelashes.
Of course you’d heard it all. Because him stumbling over himself over how to properly approach you to Morgan wasn’t humiliating enough.
No, you just had to be there to hear it.
There went any minuscule chance he had of actually managing to build something with you. You probably thought he was some weirdo who had some stalkerish fantasy of you.
“Spencer—”
“I didn’t mean it.” Your attempt at elaborating was very quickly short lived as he cuts you off.
“I- What?”
“I didn’t- I was just saying that to get Morgan off my back about not dating anyone,” Spencer knows he’s speaking straight out of his ass, but it’s the only thing that he can think of to say to possibly salvage a fraction of your friendship with him without making everything weird. “I didn’t actually mean any of it-”
There’s a small pause, silence flooding the space between you until you feel like you’re drowning in it.
“Oh,” There’s a split second where the astonishment shows across your face, and Spencer swears he catches a glimpse of disappointment in your irises before it’s covered up with something else. “Right- Yeah no that makes sense he can be quite annoying about that stuff can’t he?”
He gives a pathetic laugh at your response. “Yeah…”
“Well I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then…” There’s no mistaking the awkward tension between the two of you as you rifle in your pocket for your car keys.
“Yeah… See you tomorrow…”
“I messed up. I messed up really bad.” Morgan barely has time to leave the elevator before Spencer is practically dragging him into the conference room to speak to him privately, without any chance of their conversation being heard.
“Well good morning to you too boy genius,”
“I’m serious Morgan, this is really bad-” Spencer’s face conveys absolute desperation, almost bordering patheticness from just how rifled he seems.
“Okay okay damn,” Morgan raises his arms in surrender, a silent vow to take Spencer’s worries seriously.
“They overheard our conversation, the one about me being afraid to ask them out.” Spencer sighs in absolute indignation, taking a hand through his hair with an expression like his doctor just told him he wasn’t going to wake up tomorrow morning.
“Oh-” Morgan’s eyes widen slightly at Spencer’s confession, straightening up and furrowing his eyebrows. “And?”
“And I told them that I was just saying I wanted to ask them out to get you off my back about dating-”
Morgan’s shoulders drop, and he narrows his eyes slightly in a mix of confusion and absolute astoundment that he would fumble the bag that hard. “Why did you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want things to get awkward, but when they walked into the office this morning they didn’t even say good morning and we’ve been sat in a stalemate for almost ten minutes which suggests that they didn’t believe what I said and I did make it awkward and-”
“Reid-” Morgan holds up a hand to stop Spencer’s rambling mid-sentence. “Slow your roll a minute, what actually happened?”
“They caught me on the way out of the elevator to the parking lot yesterday and told me that they overheard our conversation,” Spencer drags his hand down his face in exasperation. “And I panicked and said that I didn’t mean it and that it was just to get you to stop asking me about my dating life, so that it wouldn’t make our friendship awkward…”
He exhales heavily, leaning his body weight against the conference table in defeat. “But I don’t think they believed me, and now they’re acting like I’m a stranger to them and I don’t know what to do,”
“Right… Okay,” Morgan takes a few seconds to take in the information through furrowed eyebrows. “And you’re sure it’s because they don’t believe you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” It was Spencer’s turn to furrows his features at Morgan’s response. What else could it possibly be to do with?
“Look, I’m not going to say anything, but you need to come clean and talk to them, right now.”
“What—” Spencer barely gets the question out of his mouth before Morgan is leaving his side to open the door of the conference room and yelling your name across the bullpen to bring you over.
“What are you doing?” Spencer Whisper-yells through his teeth as he watches you approach from over Morgan’s shoulder, and he watches the way your curiosity turns to begrudgement as you realise that Morgan wasn’t the only one there.
You literally fizzled out after realising that Spencer was there, what else was he supposed to think?
“You two need to have a conversation,” Morgan points between the two of you before tugging you into the room by your forearm. “I am going to stand outside that door and you are not allowed to leave until you’ve spoken to each other properly, no bullshit. You hear me?”
It feels like you and Spencer are two five year olds as Morgan looks between you, but you both nod stuntedly either way, and true to his word, Morgan leaves the room and leans his weight against the closed door so you can’t push it open to leave.
“So…”
“So-”
The tension between the two of you is palpable as you both try to start the conversation at the same time, but the fact that you were so similar in your awkward attempts at breaking the silence makes you laugh a little, which in turn makes Spencer laugh as well.
It was a little silly, but you were both glad for the break in the stalemate you’d put yourselves in, even if just for that moment before you found yourselves surrounded by silence once more, albeit a slightly more comfortable one.
“Well… Uh…”
“I’m sorry I assumed you liked me, romantically I mean,” You cut off Spencer’s awkward attempt at breaking the silence with your own blurted excuse. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us I just thought—” You cut yourself short before you can finish to save yourself from your own embarrassment.
Spencer can only blink at your apology.
“I— What?”
“When I cornered you in the parking lot yesterday, I should’ve known it was just Morgan bothering you, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” You clasp your hands behind your back, nervously wringing your hands together.
So it wasn’t because you didn’t believe him. You did. And you looked… upset about it? Dejected maybe? Spencer couldn’t be quite sure, but whatever emotion you were displaying it wasn’t something objectively positive.
“I— You didn’t—” Spencer exhales heavily through his mouth, clenching his hands into fists as he internally fights with himself over whether to just spit it out and get it over with.
‘You need to come clean’.
Morgan sounded extremely assured in his statement when he directed Spencer earlier, like he knew what the outcome was going to be.
It wasn’t a case of ‘come clean because the truth is better than lying’, it was a ‘come clean because whatever happens afterwards isn’t going to be negative’.
“I lied to you,”
Spencer’s brain always worked faster than his body, but apparently he’d managed to override his own instincts and let his mouth make the decision for him before he could think through all of the possible consequences.
“…What?” The traces of disappointment in your eyes are diluted by a mix of surprise and confusion as you turn them up to his, and Spencer feels his throat dry out almost immediately.
“I wasn’t trying to get Morgan off my back, I…” Spencer lets out another small sigh. “I really was asking him for advice, I… I really like you, a lot, and I just didn’t know how to tell you without ruining our friendship so Morgan was trying to help,” He lets out a small laugh, his fingers raking through his hair animatedly as he laments his own patheticness. “It didn’t go very well, clearly,”
There’s a small pause after his confession, the silence settling in Spencer’s chest and making him feel nauseous as he waits for a sign of how you’re going to respond.
The blankness on your face isn’t very reassuring.
“You’re being serious?”
“…mhm…” Practically all of the conviction in Spencer’s tone disappears at your question, and he half-wishes that he could travel back in time so this conversation never happened.
“I like you too Spencer,”
“I underst—” Spencer lowers his head as he dejectedly accepts your rejection. Except it’s not a rejection. “What?”
“I like you too,” You repeat yourself with determination, your eyes practically boring holes into his, and he swears he can feel his knees trying to buckle underneath him.
“You uh… Really?” Spencer blinks at you like a deer in headlights, his genius brain seemingly unable to comprehend how the conversation, one Spencer was sure would end in your rejection and end with the two of you as practical strangers, somehow turned into this.
You give him a firm nod. “I’d like to go out with you Spencer, on a date, anywhere you like,” Your confidence starkly contrasts his shattered composure as you give him your proposal like you’re presenting in a board meeting. Although he’s sure it’s almost entirely feigned, and the way you fiddle with your fingers is evidence enough of his theory. “Please?”
There’s a tinge of desperation in your tone as you add your small plea at the end, and it makes Spencer realise that he’s just blankly staring at you.
“I— Yes— Yes I’d love to go on a date with you Uh—” Spencer thoroughly stumbles over his words in his rush to wipe the traces of doubt in your features. “I’d really like that…”
“Good— Good,” You let out a short laugh of relief at his answer, and he echoes it with your own as you stand in a shared dome of fluster together.
“Do you want to get lunch? Uh, together?” The way Spencer phrases the question was like a middle schooler trying to ask out their crush rather than a grown man, but it only makes the sentiment more endearing.
“That sounds like a good idea,” Your answer is joined by a soft laugh that echoes from the back of your throat, and it makes Spencer’s heart flutter.
“Okay,” Spencer returns your chuckle with his own, gesturing curtiously towards the closed door like a true gentleman, and you have to suppress the urge to stamp a kiss against his pink cheeks as you pass him to push it open.
There’s less resistance than there should be as you push it open, with Morgan decidedly having left the two of you to your own devices to return to his desk without either of you realising.
He shoots the two of you a wink and a thumbs up as you walk down the stairs, and Spencer’s cheeks turn a slightly darker shade of red at the ‘unfortunate’ realisation that he’s due in for a whole load of jests and teases from him going forward.
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Winter's King 10
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: have a wondeful thursday.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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Queen Jazlene slumps against her chair. She’s barely awake as her eyes glaze over. Despite your deflections at serving her, she’d drunk herself to excess, swiping away goblets that weren't hers. Her constant imbibition has not been missed by her husband. Slanted looks and gristly whispers did little to deter her, your own gentle girding only fuelling her irritation. 
The king stands, stepping forward to overshadow his slouching queen. He raises a hand to the remaining crowd; the clumsy and drunken dancers, the chittering ladies, and the boasting lords. They turn their attention to him and hush. 
“So I must retire for the night, I bid you all a hearty rest,” he pronounces, “and may tomorrow see a brighter sun shine upon us all.” 
A hurrah is sent up in return and the king waits until the large hall falls back into its previous din. He turns slowly, his head down, and flares his nostrils at his queen. His golden eyes skim up and down the table. 
“Come,” he takes her hand, “let us get you abed.” 
Jazlene yawns and hiccups. She does not resist as he tugs her to her feet, though she teeters once upright. He swiftly hooks his arm around her, keeping her away from the view of the hall. He huffs heavily and ushers her around the bench. 
“Maid,” he demands over his shoulder. 
You follow as he carries on, finding a door behind the high table. The dimness of the corridor fogs around his figure as Jazlene’s slippers begin to drag. She babbles and gurgles. 
“I warned you not to drink so much,” he mutters, “why can you not obey? Why can you not just do what is best for you?” 
You tread behind them silently. The king falters and grunts, scooping up his wife before she can slip further down his arm. As he lifts her, her head lolls back over his thick bicep. He growls and presses onward. 
As he reaches her chamber door, you come around to open it for him. He doesn’t say a word as he enters and you wait near the entrance as he lays Jazlene down on the bed. She is very silent and still, only the subtle rise and fall of her chest suggesting a glimmer of life. 
You peer around as the king looms over her, his hand on the post of the bed as he simmers at her. His other arm bends as he rubs the bridge of his nose. You go to the vanity and take the now cool basin of water. You reach into your apron pocket as you hug the large bowl and cross to the bed. 
You pull out a cloth as you sit on the edge of the mattress and balance the bowl against your bent leg. You wet the fabric and lean over the queen to wipe her face. The kohl around her eyes has begun to smear and a sheen of sweat layers over her rich skin. You sense the king watching your deliberate tending. 
“You are good to her,” he remarks. 
“She will not feel well in the morning,” you say, “I will make sure she has water to drink and a warm compress when she wakes, your highness.” 
He’s quiet as he considers your words, “you will stay with her?” 
You wring out the cloth and fold it over the edge of the basin before moving it back to the vanity. You face the king and clasp your hands over your apron, “she cannot be alone when she has drunk so much. Once...” you shake your head and let the statement taper out, “your highness, she will need me.” 
“Hmm,” he pulls his hand off the post, pacing around the end of the bed and turn towards you, “once what?” 
“Nothing, your highness. It was only a memory I had. It doesn’t matter now.” 
“I would like to hear it,” he insists. 
You swallow down the dryness in your throat, “your highness, well, her mother, the duchess, she is the same about wine. Once she drank overly much that she did not wake when her stomach revolted. If we’d not been there to watch over her, she might have choked on it.” 
“Ah, yes,” he stops, just a step away, “that would be unfortunate. I will thank you then for keeping a close eye on my lady wife.” 
“As is my duty, your highness.” 
His eyes blaze down at you and he shifts on his feet, “but will you sleep?” 
“Me? I rest in the cart--” 
“We will not leave on the morrow, I have business yet in the capital,” he explains, “when the lady is awake, you will make certain she is conscious, then you will go and seek rest of your own.” 
“Your highness, how generous, but she would need to break her fast, and dress anew, perhaps bathe--” 
“There are other maids in this castle. I am commanding you to retire for the day. You will need strength for our pending departure,” he bids, “to serve your queen upon the road.” 
You bow your head, apologetic, “your highness, I did not mean to argue. Certainly, I will do as you say. Thank you for minding me.” 
He inches forward and your shoulders slant as you shrink for his closeness. You see his thick fingers twiddle at his side and his hot breath blasts over you like a brazier. He cautiously bends his arm and touches the front of your apron. You quiver as you watch his calloused hand climb up the stained fabric. He pauses and shudders, pinching the loose thread poking out from the belt. He pulls it loose and rolls it between his fingertips. 
“You will have new clothes,” he backs away, feeling the thread, twisting it, “you are a queen’s maid now. Not some castle sweep.” 
You squeeze your hands tighter as you stare at his tunic, “yes, your highness. Thank you anon.” 
He turns on his sole reluctantly and looks upon the bed. You follow his gaze to his subdued wife. He hangs his head and puts his back to you before he pivots toward the door. He stalks toward it and pulls it open with enough strength to make the hinges whine. 
“Good night, little maid,” he drawls just before the door snaps shut in his stead. 
You raise your eyes completely and stare at the heavy wooden slats of the door. Your chest is knotted so tight you can hardly breathe. The king’s displeasure lingers even his absence. Is he unhappy with his inebriate wife or is it you? You quickly dismiss the latter. You don’t matter so much. No, his marriage is not an easy one thus far. 
⚔️
You only know Queen Jazlene is awake as she spits bile onto the floor. Her head hangs over the side of the bed as she wretches and spews, coughing and gagging until she goes limp and groans. The acidic smell permeates the chamber and you come forward to clean it away with a cloth. 
Once you’ve sopped up the mess, you leave her to dispose of the smelly rags and return with a cool, fresh basin and a new cloth. You help her onto her back, propping her against the pillows and clean her face anew. She moans as she keeps her eyes closed, a ripple in her forehead. 
“Too bright,” she mutters. 
“I will draw the curtains, your highness,” you assure her as you rescind the cloth and rise to do so. 
She winces as you pull the heavy drapes together and groans, “my husband... did he not see back to my chamber?” 
“He carried you here, your highness,” you explain, “you were not feeling well.” 
“Mm, I still do not,” she decries. 
“Shall I call for a bath?” You suggest. 
“Do what you will but be quiet,” she hisses as she shades her eyes beneath her long fingers. 
She gurgles as she sinks down and rolls upon her side. She curls up and you stare at her back. You go to the door and ease it open. You emerge and pass between the guards without. You are no more than a draught to them. As you approach the stairs, your name is called from ahead. You peer down the next corridor. 
“Eh, there you are,” Bryce approaches. You can tell by the shine in his hair that he has bathed, “and what mission has you so intent?” 
“I am to fetch lemon water for the queen. She has a sour stomach,” you say and turn back to the steps.  
The soldier descends apace with you and chortles, “as she would. She can drain an ewer like no other I’ve seen.” 
“Mm,” you hum grimly. 
“Ah, pardon, I do not mean to be cruel,” he says, “it is only... often we reap what we sow, yes?” 
“I suppose,” you allow. 
“Speaking of, mouse, it is your turn to reap,” he spins and stretches his arm across your path, “king’s orders.” 
You shake your head in confusion. 
“The queen--” 
“I will send another for her lemon water. But our dear liege and lord has bid that you rest your head. And I do concur. You are only mortal, little mouse.” 
“But I must--” 
“Obey your king,” he insists and rescinds his arm, crossing it with his other across his chest. “I’ve been given leave to treat you as prisoner if ye resist but I do not wish to go so far.” 
You frown. You recall the night before. The king’s orders are not forgotten but you thought perhaps they mightn’t be standing. You bow your head and press your palm to your stomach, another memory flitting through your mind. The king’s hand brushing along the belt of your apron. 
“I’ve acquired you a fine chamber,” Bryce says. “Gods, how could one ever be so glum about a bed of their own?” 
“Sir, I am not unhappy,” you counter. “I am...” you lift your head, “tired.” 
“Oh, how the fates align,” he quips, “come then. There is a bath and new dress too. I was too kind to mention it but you were starting to smell a bit too close to Daisy.” 
You can’t but laugh and snort, “hey!” 
“May as well take benefit in staying still,” he says, “now, let us hurry before the water is cold.” 
You acquiesce and follow him away from the kitchen. You hope Jazlene is not discontent with your straying. You walk along several corridors and up to the second floor again. You do not expect to stop at one of thick doors meant for nobility. 
“In here,” Bryce takes out an iron key and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and steps back. “I will come in an hour to look in on you but I trust by then you will be abed.” 
“Yes, sir, thank you,” you affirm. 
“Be certain to have some of the food,” he orders you, “much better than the goat meat I’ve been chewing on.” 
You thank him one last time and enter on your own. He closes the door behind you and you hear the lock twist. The loud grind of cogs does not unsettle you. It’s rare you ever have a moment of solace, though often you feel alone. 
You look around the chamber. It is much too grand for you. There is a wide bed at one end with a long canopy. The window lets in a warm breeze as the steam coiling from the large tub dampens the air. The furniture here is just as fine as that in the queen’s rooms. 
You meander around and stop before the covered tray on the round table. You lift the lid and reveal an assortment of fruit and cooked oats drizzled with honey. Your stomach roars and clenches painfully. Without a thought, you sit on the stool to gulp the porridge from the brim. You empty near half the bowl before you stop to catch your breath. 
You pluck at the citrus and devour the fruit with delighted purrs. When you have glutted your hunger to the point of discomfort, you lick your lips and rise. You near the tub as untie your apron. Your body aches for the heat of the water. 
You leave the layers of your filthy garments on the floor and step into the depths. You sigh as you lower yourself in. Relief seeps through your flesh and enshrines you. You lay back for a time and bask in the calm. Before the water can cool, you sit up to scrub yourself clean. 
When you finish, you climb out and pull on the shift folded on the top of the stack; a dress, and apron, stockings, and even shoes. There is no cap. You fish around your disposed clothing and retrieve your own. You soak it in the bathwater, wringing it out until it’s not so browned. 
A knock comes at the door. You sit on the edge of the mattress and call to the visitor, “hello?” 
“Eh, it’s me,” Bryce’s salty timbre comes through the wood, “you sleep now, mouse.” 
“Yes, sir.” 
He taps the door and you hear his footsteps fade away. You recline across the bed and stare up at the canopy. You close your eyes but your stomach is uneasy. You don’t know why. The bed is too soft, the linens too fluffy. 
You puff and sit up. You get to your feet and circle around the bed to the short bench across the foot of it. You tuck yourself onto the barely cushioned wood and bend your legs to fit. You fold and arm under your head. Much better. 
It isn’t very long before you succumb to your fatigue. You don’t realise how tired you truly are until you’re buried in sleep. Heavy and dark, almost suffocating. 
Behind your eyelids, you see streaks of colour, curling and rolling into visions. Shadowy forests and endless roads, the clop of horse hooves, the rattle of axles, and the crunch of boots in the dirt. The preening whine of the Queen as she splashes wine across your face. You gasp through the acrid sprinkle and fall backwards into air.  
You land on a heap of hay. You’re back in Debray, in the barn where you would flit away with Merinda to eat or even steal a nap. She would watch at the window and you would doze or nibble. You look over but do not see her. Instead, another stands at the opening.  
The king’s silver white hair hangs in waves down his muscled back. He wears only breeches as he stares off into the distance. The window greys with a storm beyond, pulsing from shades of dove feather to harrowing black. He faces you and his golden eyes glow like a wolf’s. 
You sit up and whimper. He prowls closer and closer, thunder crashing as a great gust blows through the barn. Then all at once, the tempest subsides and the wooden walls turn to stone. You’re trapped beneath something unbreakable, like iron, wrists bound. You look at your arms, pinned by large hands. You look above you and find yourself straddled beneath the king. 
He leans in, closer and closer, his fiery breath razing over you. 
“Little maid...” 
His growl snakes around your neck and you wake with a start. The bench teeters as you sit up, your hand gripping your forehead. You blink and look around, clearing the haze from your sleepy eyes. 
Just as in your dream, you are not alone. 
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sugarpasteltmnt · 1 day
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I had this exchange with my brother yesterday so naturally the next step was to procrastinate all other work to make a rough GIF for it. totally the next logical step. Hope you don't mind the boi abuse lol. Keep doing what you're doing! You're amazing :D
Have a great day/night :>
ASJDHDJAHDJAH BRO THIS ASK SHOWS ON THE APP BUT NOT DESKTOP WHAT????? BUT IM SO GLAD I CAUGHT IT!!! I LOVE IT!!! akskdhsk this is too funny he deserves a good flip-flop smack for his Crimes
also I’m obsessed with Him:
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Hi! I just wanted to say that I discovered your top 30 Richonne list a few days ago and I've been down the meta rabbit hole you've so wonderfully crafted this entire week so far. I've cried and smiled so much reading them. Each post is just so beautiful.
I was reading one of your Reveling in Richonne posts this morning for episode 10 x 04 where Michonne talked with Ezekiel about how much she still misses Rick and loves him so much and that she misses his walk and now I can't get over it. Now I'm thinking about all those times when she looked at Rick walking towards or away from her pre- and post-canon where she would be thinking the man I'm crushing on, then eventually the man I love is so sexy. Is there any chance you can do a post speculating those moments where they are both checking each out specifically regarding Michonne checking out Rick's walk?
Also I cant wait for you to do a Reveling in Richonne continuation based on TOWL 👀? So excited! Lastly I just need you to know that my Richonne withdrawals have been pretty bad now that TOWL has concluded. So discovering your blog and your metas have been giving me my whole entire life and I just want to say thank you and that I really appreciate all the thought and beauty you put into your posts. You're amazing!!!! 👏🏽 👏🏽 🤩 💖
Hi @rct85 ! I'm so encouraged by your message, thank you so much. 🥰 I love that this richonne reveling rabbit hole could help with the richonne withdrawal. I’m feeling it too and really miss seeing them on screen each week. 🥲 Thank goodness we were spoiled with years of richonne content that I’ve just been playing on a loop in my head. The second I'm finally able, I'm looking forward to going all out and writing about every golden moment from TOWL. The towl thoughts and observations are abundant lol.
And I really like that thought of highlighting the times that Michonne was looking at Rick and thinking this man I'm crushing on and later in love with is so sexy. I can definitely speculate on those moments and I've placed my extra self’s speculation right below. 😊⬇
I focused on Michonne specifically for this one because if I were to make a list of times Rick was looking at Michonne and thinking this woman I'm crushing on/in love with is so sexy it would be wildly long because it's every single moment he and Michonne are on screen together. Like truly from TWD 3.06 at the fence to the TOWL 1.06 finale Rick looks like he's thinking that. 😋 While Michonne can be a little more subtle than Slick Rick, she's still head over heels for her husband and I think I pinpointed some clear moments where she was noting how fine her man is and appreciating that walk. 😏 Thanks again for reading my posts and for this kind message! 💗
Moments Michonne Was Checking Out Her Man’s Walk/Thinking Rick Is Fine 😋
Exhibit A:
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It started real early if you ask me. 😌 At this point our Michonne had been abandoned by her only friend, unsuccessfully gaslit by the governor, chased down and shot by Merle, and passed out killing walkers at the prison fence. She’d been put through a whole lot in mind and body…but her eyes clearly still work just fine as she seems to be taking in this handsome stranger in front of her.
And sis is an observant person so I wouldn’t at all be surprised if she had a conscious thought that this man from the prison is attractive, even here in their first exchange. Thinking about how she described Maggie and the Governor based on appearances in this ep, I’d bet that had Michonne had to describe Rick this early, some type of good-looking adjective would‘ve been used.
(*Also the footnote for all of these bits of evidence is that Rick is absolutely captivated by her in each of these moments too 💯)
Exhibit B:
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Clear is where that Richonne attraction was loud and on display from both of them. We don’t see Rick walk away in this scene at the end of the ep but uh Michonne does. 😊 And of course she likes what she sees with that lingering look and smile she gives. And all that car key shuffling - it’s giving Rick is pretty eager but maybe she is too 🤭
Exhibit C & D:
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I put these two moments side by side because I love how similar they are in the way Rick walks up to her and the way Michonne smiles at him. To think one scene is during their early s4 crush era and the other is during their s7 honeymoon ep, just goes to show these two have been smitten a long long time and always will be. In both moments I know Michonne loves seeing his walk just like Rick loves seeing her smile.
Exhibit E:
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As she observes Rick here, I think Michonne has a lot of thoughts going through her head, which naturally are deeper than just checking him out. On a larger level, she’s realizing that Rick has unique qualities that she loves and respects and recognizes in her own self. She saw firsthand the way Rick walks the walk when it comes to protecting his family and she’s fallen in love with him. But I think an appreciation for his literal walk can be included in those thoughts during this scene as she starts to slowly become more cognizant that she sees Rick as a lot more than just a friend.
Exhibit F (Pt. 1 & Pt. 2):
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I may have forgot if this was a list of Michonne’s thoughts or mine with exhibit f lol. But I’m just gonna venture to say that she and I shared the same appreciation for Rick’s walk in that barn. It’s Season 5 Rick - of course Michonne was feeling a type of way about him. And she might not have agreed with him punching Aaron but I know she wasn’t mad at that walk.
Exhibit G:
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Seeing Rick’s clean-shaven face for the first time was Michonne’s most blatant display of attraction towards him pre-canon and she was definitely noting how fine he is. And from my posts on the scene, it’s no secret how much I love this moment and it’s no secret how much these two were into each other. I also just added a later s5 moment of Rick seeing Michonne in the constable windbreaker for the first time because it gives a similar energy. It’s cute how Rick and Michonne both have such obvious attraction and intrigued reactions to seeing each other in ways they haven’t seen each other before.
(That’s also why I thought it was so funny and doomed that their plan was to pretend like they don’t know each other at the CRM because Richonne hasn’t been able to mask their blazing attraction to each other since season 3)
Exhibit H:
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This is such a sweet moment and I always adore seeing the slightly bashful way Michonne can’t help but stare at her man and smile after their first night together. And the way Rick can sense her looking at him and then smiles and reaches for her. It gives me life. This had to make this list because I’m pretty sure “the man I love is so sexy” is one of the direct quotes from Michonne’s mind in this scene.
Exhibit I:
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Even when injured Rick’s walk is hot and Michonne knows it. 😋 The scene above and a couple more in this episode were clear signs of Michonne admiring her man inside and out. They were both so cute and couply and in love in this ep and I’ll never get over it.
In The Ones Who Live…
Each of these towl moments deserves dissertations so I’ll wait to elaborate because dissertations are coming later on. But I still had to include them on this list because they’re prime examples of Michonne loving Rick’s walk and/or loving how sexy her husband is - with the last one being the pinnacle 😍
Exhibit J:
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Exhibit K:
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Exhibit L:
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Exhibit M:
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Exhibit NOPQRSTUVWXY&Z:
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gallawitchxx · 1 day
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hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖
ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏
sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx
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send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚
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#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.
Ian hasn’t slept in days.
It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.
His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.
Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.
Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.
Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.
He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?
The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?
Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.
Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?
He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.
The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?
He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?
Another clench: Indica
Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?
There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.
Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.
Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.
On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.
The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.
Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.
Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.
Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.
Jesus, he needs to sleep.
“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.
Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.
Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.
Wants him to stay the night.
Forever, maybe.
Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”
That’s the last thing Ian wants.
“Not tired,” he fibs.
Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”
It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.
“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”
Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”
Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.
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spotsandsocks · 1 day
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Tagged by @tizniz @diazsdimples @wikiangela @hippolotamus @bi-buckrights @exhuastedpigeon Thank you lovelies 💖
How many works do you have on ao3?
89 that’s not too shabby is it. Three years of writing this summer.
What's your total ao3 word count?
902,255 that is quite a few words isn’t it.
What fandoms do you write for?
911
Top five fics by kudos:
If You Break It 3.2k Chris overhears a something and gets upset, then he tells Buck who gets upset too.
They say the Truth will set you free 2.3K Buck get a dose of something at work and gets emotional and chatty
Could Have Should Have Would Have 3.2k an unexpected“I love you” but it’s too late. Isn’t it?
Just Ask 1.7K Eddie's having thoughts, he wants to touch. Buck's ok with that, all Eddie has to do is ask.
Looking from the outside 2.4K TWhat happens when everyone you meet thinks you’re married to your perfectly platonic best friend. Most of these are quite old now, I think I’ve written some just as good or even better but fics don’t seem to get as much kudos these days
Do you respond to comments?
yes everyone is really important to me
What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
No fics really end angsty round here but this one’s pretty emotional along the way.
Alone With Your Thoughts Buck gets very badly hurt (for plot reasons) and trying hard to stay alive he realises he’s not as alone as he thought.
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
See above! All happy can’t choose the happiest.
Do you get hate on fics?
Not yet- think I’m too small to get noticed maybe!
Do you write smut?
Um yes I certainly do 😏 and quite well I like to think 😉 in fact an example will be popping along in FIF shortly
Craziest crossover:
Nope - now AUs is a different story
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of! Can’t imagine anyone noticing my fics enough to steal them
Have you ever had a fic translate
Someone asked to once but who knows!
Have you ever cowritten a fic before?
Nope
All time favourite ship?
Gotta be buddie hasnt it. They just inspire me
What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
All of my wips languish right now and are crying out for attention but I fully intend to finish them all. I do!
What are your writing strengths?
Not sure?! I think my more canon style fics are quite consistent with the characters in the show. Think that I’m pretty good with a complicated plot but you tell me?? I like the way I can wrap a bit of humor around the more tense bits too.
What are your writing weaknesses?
Long sentences? An over enthusiasm for the comma? Too long? Poor tagging?
Thoughts on dialogue in another language?
Maybe controversial but I’m not a huge fan of eddie using Spanish terms of endearment in fics. If he ever does it in show I’ll feel better about it, but it doesn’t actually feel very him, apart from that I don’t mind
First fandom you wrote in?
911
Favourite fic you've written?
How can I chose!! But these old chestnuts I’ve gone on about before but I, very proud of them actually
The Lost and The Found werewolf/shifter au
Good Knight Sweet Prince Prince/knight au
Tied To You From The Start smutty paranormal shenanigans
And obviously dragonriders au… see FIF post shortly
Thanks for tags you lovely lovely people you’re all so so talented I adore you you make my days so much brighter ☀️💜☀️
@rogerzsteven @hoodie-buck @thekristen999 @loserdiaz @weewootruck
@shipperqueen6 @stagefoureddiediaz @underwaterninja13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @daffi-990
@bidisasterevankinard @bekkachaos @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @honestlydarkprincess
@saybiwithme @loveyouanyway @lover-of-mine @watchyourbuck @jesuisici33
@monsterrae1 @eddiebabygirldiaz @shortsighted-owl @fiona-fififi @the-likesofus
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factual-fantasy · 2 days
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10 asks! Thank you! :}} 🫶
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@octonauts16
I've heard good things about it, buuut it's not really my taste.. <:/ I don't intend to watch it..
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:DDD THANK YOU!! :}}}
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@minnesotamedic186
Sorry, fanfiction is a no-go as well.. 😔
Thank you! And ruling the world sounds like a lot of work! All I wanna do is feel better and get back to my normal life 🥺
@illogically-austere (Related to this post..?)
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Ugh.. always disappointing to hear.. thanks for letting me know. <:) 👍
@ratburgar
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@pink088
I'm not exhausted because I'm overworking myself, I'm exhausted because I'm batting unknown health problems- 💀💀💀 all I've been doing for months is resting, Tumblr is nice break from all the stress going on irl rn <:/
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@chaotic-public-menace
Good morning! And tbh that's my mood as well 😅💀
I've actually seen some of those movies! :00 if I had the choice, I'd go back and watch Rise of the Guardians again. Such a cool movie ✨💞✨
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WAAAAASOBNIG THATS SO KINDDDD 😭😭💞✨💞 THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭💖💖
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@chaoticartenthusiast
AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DD I'm so glad you've liked my pokemon stuff! :}}}
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Thank you! :}} And currently, no.. I don't plan on drawing any Octonauts fanart anytime soon. But that's not to say I'll never draw it again. I'm just taking a break for now! <:}
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stardust948 · 2 days
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I know this will never happen in your dragon fic, but I'm kind of curious. How do you think things would work if Katara and/or Sokka somehow gained the same ability as their partners to go back and forth between being humans and dragons?
Sokka and Katara would be water dragons opposed to fire dragons so they aren't as big as the others in dragon form and can't breathe fire or fly. Thankfully, the ocean is nearby so they can figure out things there. They discovered their wings are meant for swimming (much like penguin wings).
If it happens at home, Hakoda and Kya would immediately rush them to the Fire Family's house. Ursa would be glad to teach them how to manage the shifting and being a dragon. She's also thrilled there are more dragons.
The siblings would have a hard time adjusting to the heighten senses though. They have to wear ear coverings for the first couple of weeks before getting used to it. Katara gets especially upset when she accidently rips up one of her dolls with her claws. They would also face more discrimination being both foreigners and "demons" now.
On the brighter side, Sokka would enjoy hunting with Azula in the forest and Katara would love sunbathing with Zuko. In return, the water siblings will try to teach Zuko and Azula how to swim. Fire dragons don't mix well with water, so it doesn't go too well. Zuko and Azula opt to sunbath on the sand whenever they go to ocean. All four of them would love rough housing especially now that the fire siblings don't have to hold back as much.
Also, Ozai would help Hakoda and Kya dragon proof their house and how to cuddle the pups without throwing out their back (much). They'll move to the lighthouse to be right at the ocean and away from prying eyes. It's also easier for the Fire Family to visit in dragon form.
Thanks for the ask 💖
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selfloverrrrrr · 9 hours
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Hyy can you make yander yuuta plz
Thanks for the request... I tried... lemme know if you liked it or not 💖
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You're not done yet ~
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Warning: smut, heavy smut, noncon, unprotected sex, forcing, Yandere, obsessed, possessive...
( All characters are aged up/18+)
Masterlist
Minors Do Not Interact
Read the warnings carefully....if you don't like my stories block me not report
I'm a student of jujutsu high Tokyo. I'm a first year.... in grade four. Gojo satoru is the one who took the responsibility to make me understand my cursed energy and how to use it. Cause I can't use it properly. So we're best friends... Me, Yuji, Megumi and Nobara. The second year students are also good friends with me. I trust them too. But if anyone asks me who is the most trustable in the second year... it's Yuta ofcourse. I trust him so much. He's so cute. And innocent. Who isn't gonna trust him?
Today Gojo wasn't available to help us with training. He was out on a mission. So I had to ask someone with a higher ranked to help me.. because I have to do the training. I started searching if anyone was available.after searching the only person available was Yuta senpai.
I was wearing a short tight and a sports bra. Yuta arrived to help us at the training. From the time he came he kept starring at my boobs when wasn't looking at him. He kept struggling to focus on helping me with training. Maybe he was getting a bonner. He got an idea. He told me tht I was not standing properly. "Lemme help you" he said with a smile and walk behind me. He stands there and put his hands on my hips. He slightly pulled my hips towards him and pressed his dick on my butt. Yes I felt that but I ignored it..cuz I thought that he was just helping me. And that was just a coincidence. but I didn't knew that it wasn't a coincidence... It was turning him on more.
I ignored it. Because I believed him. Evertime I was moving my butt was rubbing against his dick. I could feel it. And this time it started getting uncomfortable. It was like as if he was rubbing it against my butt intentionally. This time I got out of his grip and kept a distance.
After I got out of his grip I looked at him. I don't know like how to react or what should I say at this situation. So I looked at him with confusion. But he act innocent. Like he wasn't trying to do anything or wasn't anything happening which was making me uncomfortable. He act like he don't even understand why I got out of his grip. That made me think that maybe I'm really overthinking. Maybe he really wasn't doing anything purposely. And he is so innocent so who wouldn't believe him?..."is anything wrong y/n?... why did you suddenly got out of my grip like that?...is anything wrong?... tell me."He asked me innocently. "No no... nothing ... it's just...I slipped " I said to make the situation look okay. Then I started walking towards him. Going towards him again. But suddenly Yuji was coming from somewhere he was running from Megumi and there was a bowl of honey in his hands. He bumped into me and the whole honey were on me. That honey was from gojo's room which Megumi told Yuji not to take but yuji took it and that's why he was running from Megumi. The honey was now all over me . "I'm sorry y/n.... please don't tell Gojo sensei" Yuji said. "Don't say sorry... It can't go back so I have to take a shower...and don't worry I won't tell Gojo sensei " I said.
Megumi was yelling at Yuji and I left the place. Then I went to the bathroom to take a bath and clean myself. I went in the bathroom and closed the door. I couldn't even see properly for the honey. I quickly took off my clothes and turn on the shower. Thank God that honey wasn't on my hair. I washed off the honey. I heard a sound of door unlocked. I turned around to look. I saw Yuta senpai. I covered myself with my hands. "Y-yuta senpai?... Y-you hav mistaken the bathroom" I informed him. "Uh-huh... you have mistaken... this is the boys bathroom" he replied. My eyes went to the signboard behind him which says boys bathroom. My face heated up. "Uh..oh sorry I didn't saw... I'm done tho... I'm going now" I said and grabbed the towel and wrapped it around me.
"no you're not" Yuta said. "What?" I asked him with confuse. "I said no you are not done yet" he said. And I saw a smirk on his lips. First time I saw him smirking. "I don't understand what you are saying" I said and he grabbed my sides and pushed me on the wall. My towel fell on the floor. He was starting at my boobs. "W-what are you doing!" I said. He looked at me and put a hand on my cheek " you're so innocent" he said and pressed his lips on mine.
He started kissing my neck. Yuta started licking my nipple. His was so teasing. I moaned. He continued his teasing licking and sucking on my nipple. With his one hand he grabbed my other boob and squeezed it roughly. I scremed so loudly. " you don't know.... how much I waited for this!!!"
When he was done playing with my nipples and boobs he got up and started taking off my panties. " Senpai please...." I begged again. "Shhh... You are wet... lemme help you." he said with his smirk. He bring his face close to my pussy and licked it. "Ummmmmmm..... heaven~" he whispered to himself.
He took off his clothes. His huge length was out now. My eyes widened at his length. It was too long and too thick. He grabbed his dick stroked it two or three times then line it with my entrence. I began to panic. I knew it wouldn't fit." Yuta senpai.... please no .... senpai please no... I'm begging you!!!" I begged him but he didn't stop. tears started falling from my eyes.
Yuta pushed his whole length in one slide and I scremed with pain. He didn't even give me time to adjust his size and started thursting in and out roughly. I was screming loudly. "I'm gonna tell this to Gojo sensei...he's gonna help me" I sobbed. "Oh really....you think they are gonna believe you over me?... funny" he cackled. His huge dick was giving me too much pain. He started giving me hickeys on my neck and chest. His thursting getting faster and harder. My whole body was shaking. He was moaning too. The way his dick was touching my g-spot make my back arch. It didn't take much time and I came. As I came that smirk again played on his lips.
I felt his dick started throbbing inside me. " Senpai please...not....not inside" I begged in a whisper because I didn't have the power to speak. It was too much for me. When my warm walls clenched around him he moaned loudly. In a few minutes he came inside me. He slowly pull out and threw him beside me. Suddenly I saw inumaki senpai's check mark on Yuta senpai's check. He bring his face closer to mine and whispered....
"Do Not tell about this to anyone"
Give me your requests guys....
I love when you give me your requests 💗
A big thanks to my friend @liciaforlife who helped me with this story 💖
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wonuumelody · 10 hours
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Woozi, washing woozi's long hair cuz babygirl is too lazy 🤭💖
Hi anon! I loved the idea sm, I hope you'll enjoy what I did <3
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pairing: seventeen woozi x fem!reader genre: fluffy! warning(s): use of pet name
౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀౨ৎ⠀
It's been a few months now since your boyfriend started to let his hair grow. He was so pretty with his long hair. He would often ask you for advice on how not to damage it or to simply take care of his hair since it was much longer than before. But sometimes... Well sometimes your princess boyfriend was too lazy to take care of his hair and asked you to help him.
One night, you were laying on the couch, scrolling on your phone while your boyfriend was washing his teeth on the bathroom. Until you hear a voice, his voice calling you.
"yn...yn can you please come?"
Since you were wondering why your boyfriend was calling you like that, you got up and went to the bathroom, all to see him, shirtless, his hair loose with a mischievous smile on his lips.
"can you wash my hair for me? Please?" he asked you with a grin on his face. He knew that you loved to play with his hair, especially when they were that long
"yeah sure!" you replied to him, all exited.
After a few minutes you managed to set up a kind of mini hair salon in the bathroom, a cushion was put on the floor so that he could sit on it while he had his head against the edge of the bathtub so that you could wash them. After a few minutes you managed to set up kind of a mini hair salon in the bathroom. A cushion on the floor so that he could sit on it while he had his head against the edge of the bathtub so that you could wash his hair. He didn't wanted to get into the bath entirely since he had took a shower earlier in the day.
You started washing your boyfriend's hair while he looked at you with heart eyes. He wasn't really expressive but sometimes He had moments of pure passion where he felt compelled to show you that he loved you. You cherished those moments with all your heart.
You were careful not to get any product in jihoon's eyes while he holded your shirt.
"Thank you" he said while looking at you "you know I was too lazy to do it but you, my amazing girlfriend you do it for me when I'm too tired"
"it's okay babygirl ! I like touching your hair and taking care of you, you know." you said, laughing softly at the nickname and shampooing his hair carefully.
The evening ended in the bathroom, while you washed and dried your boyfriend's hair. These kinds of evenings were the ones that mattered most to you, simple but full of the love you both had for each other.
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Ello Chef! I would like some Alan head cannons for girl dinner today! 💖 How do you think he would fall for Mc and how would he try to win her heart? I wait patiently with my fork and knife thank you ☺️
We love a girl dinner around here! I got you fam!
ALAN MIDO
Okay so I said before that for Alan its easier for him to recognize when he feels something. That reason being is that when Alan feels, I think he feels those things but like INTENSELY.
He would fall for MC after some time and specifically on another mission. He would see how much they've grown and gained some more confidence in their ability and themselves.
I think he would find that attractive in its own right. He already was feeling a little something for MC by the end of their mission with Vagastrom, but seeing them NOW after all they've been through and the fact that they're STILL pushing through like a trooper? That does some things for our favorite himbo.
Alan knows he's not the smartest or the richest, so he tries to boost what he IS: the handiest.
He would try to win their heart by being as dependable as possible. He wouldn't necessarily be vulnerable until they're in a relationship. But he knows that all that crazy high school romance will eventually end and that they might want someone a bit more mature and capable.
Mature and capable is our mans to a T right here. Maybe not with tech but he will try his best and if not, he's never been afraid to confront his flaws in that sense.
A good example would be like: Mc comes in complaining that something in their dorm broke. Sure Jin might offer to pay to get it fixed or even buy a new one
But Alan beats him to it by fixing it himself. Mans handiwork is QUALITY too. Looks great, works even better than brand new somehow, etc.
With how strong his feelings are, he would even ask Sho for some pointers with cooking. I headcanon that he isn't the WORST cook amongst our boys thus far....but he's not up there with the best (i have a whole ass tier list for that if y'all want it lol)
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vodika-vibes · 2 days
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Hi sweetheart; I've been feeling really down and stressed today and I was wondering if I could please have a female reader x Jango Fett scenario where he knows whenever she's stressed and depressed by how much chocolate she has throughout the day I.e. Chocolate Caff, or hot coco and triple choc chip cookies, and several pieces of her favorite chocolate block etc and he tries to ask her about it, but she brushes him off and doesn't want to talk about it, so he just hugs her until she responds and feels better? If you can't make it work with Jango Fett, feel free to go with whichever clone inspires you most for this. Thank you either way. 💖
An Observant Man
Summary: Jango knows his riduur better than anyone, so when she has a bad day, he knows just what to do.
Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader
Word Count: 936
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: I'm sorry you're going through a hard time right now! I hope this helps, at least a little bit. I decided to write it solely from Jango's POV. I hope you feel a little better soon.
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Jango has always been an observant man.
As a bounty hunter, he has to be observant. Able to recognize the ins and outs of every place that he visits, able to determine if something is unusual or not.
It’s a talent that’s kept him alive on more than one occasion.
And it’s one of the more useful skills he’s learned over the years. Though, it’s also one of the skills that he has the hardest time turning off, even when he’s safe in the arms of his riduur.
So, when he comes home after a long hunt that turned even longer, he can’t help but take note of the things that have changed in the home he shares with his beautiful riduur.
He takes note that she rearranged the front hallway and added a bench for him to sit on when he removes his armor. He notes that there’s a new painting on the wall near the front door, likely a gift from their nephew, based on the…unique color choice.
The front hallway smells like a mix of flowers and chemicals, which suggests that she invested in some of the carpet powder to use when he’s away. So long as she doesn’t use it when he’s here, he doesn’t mind. 
He quickly removes his armor and moves through the house, taking in several of the other small changes. Several items have been moved to better locations, some pieces of furniture have new coats of paint, or stain-
There’s a new blanket tossed over the arm of the couch, one made by her own hands, if he had to guess based on the color of the yarn used. Jango releases a fond laugh as he picks up the blanket and trails his fingers over the soft material. 
Maybe he can talk his riduur into letting him bring this back to his ship. 
He just…has to find her first.
Jango folds the blanket and sets it on the couch, before allowing his feet to lead him through the halls until he reaches the kitchen. The kitchen looks the same as ever; the same pale yellow paint, the same kitchen table and chairs, the same scent of cinnamon and apples that always fills the room-
And there, absently stirring a mug, is his riduur. Her hair pulls off her neck with a ribbon, clad in one of his older shirts, her feet bare.
She truly is the most stunning woman in the galaxy.
He leans against the door frame and watches her for a moment, a small smile on his lips. Though, slowly, the smile fades as his gaze slides across the kitchen counter. 
Hot chocolate mix. A handful of chocolate truffles. The block of rich dark chocolate he brought her from Alderaan the last time he had to visit that planet. The box of chocolate brownie mix sitting, forgotten, on the kitchen table.
A bad day then.
Hopefully not longer. The idea of her suffering without him here to support her breaks his heart.
“I’m home, riduur.” He finally says quietly, and he knows that she knows that he’s there, because she doesn’t jump or start. Instead, her hand pauses from where she’s stirring her drink.
Tellingly, she doesn’t turn to look at him for almost half a minute, and when she does, her smile is painfully fake. “Welcome home, Jango.” Her smile might be fake, but the relief in her voice isn’t.
“Have you had a bad day, love?”
“I’m fine.” Her answer is absent, automatic.
“Ah, cyar’ika,” he pushes off the wall and walks over to her, slowly encouraging her to slide into his arms, where she fits against him like two pieces of the same puzzle, “I know that’s not true.” Jango folds his arms tightly around her, “Will you tell me about it?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” She replies as her hands curl into the material of his flight suit, “I’m fine.”
“Hm.” Jango’s arms tighten around her, “I’m not sure if you actually believe that, beautiful, or if you’re just trying to keep me from worrying about you.”
She shrugs and presses her face against his shoulder, “Can’t it be both?”
“I’m sure it can.” Slowly he starts rubbing her back, offering silent comfort and support. “Come on, riduur. Talk to me.”
She sighs softly, “I don’t know, Jango.” She finally says softly, “I’m just…feeling off.”
“That’s okay, everyone has off days.”
“But this has been going on for days now-”
Jango’s heart clenches painfully, “I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I should have been here to support you.”
“S’not your job.”
“It is my job,” Jango corrects, “It became my job the moment you said yes to dinner with me.” He lightly kisses the top of her head, “How about, we go and cuddle on the bed. And tonight I’ll handle everything.”
“That…doesn’t seem fair to you.”
“You’ve been carrying this burden alone for days, cyar’ika. Let me carry it for you for at least one night.”
And she sighs, and pulls back to look up at him, “I love you, you know that.”
Jango smiles softly, “Not half as much as I love you, riduur.”
Finally, a small, but genuine, smile lifts her lips and tension drains from Jango’s shoulders. Quickly, he ducks his head and drops a light kiss on her lips, tasting chocolate as he kisses her, and then he pulls back and lightly urges her towards the bedroom.
It won’t help immediately, it’s going to take time for his perfect riduur to recover, but he’s going to be there every step of the way. After all, that’s his job as riduur.
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Text
Winter's King 12
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No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)
Characters: Geralt of Rivia
Note: have a good weekend.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
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You stand, still uncertain. You look at the king as he tilts his face up to the moonlight. The silver sheen washes over him with an unearthly glow. He looks lupine, much like your dream.  
“Your highness?” You echo again, hands curling around the sides of your skirt. 
“Will you continue to disregard my order?” He challenges as his gold eyes meet yours. You wince at the way they shine. 
“No, your highness, I am only...” you hush yourself and clamp your lips tight. You turn and search around, numbly walking along the curve of the pond.  
He growls as you reach the line of hedges into the next walkway. 
“You will want to go much faster than that,” he warns as you hear him stand. “I will allow you some advance...” He exhales as you glance back at him, “ten...” he stares at you, his figure shrouded in shadow from far away, “nine...” 
You blanch and tumble backward through the gap. You spin and stagger on your soles, throwing your arms out as your heart pulses madly. Something about his timbre, about his words, has you alight. There is something amiss about him. 
You push your legs against your skirts and hurry blindly into the nocturnal void. The moonlight seeps in around the silhouette of leaves as you keep your hands ahead of you to prevent a collision. You try to see through the dark, like silk across your eyes, making out little more than hazy orbs. 
You crash into a thicket of thorns and pull away from the rosy bunch. Their scent clings onto you as you turn to the left and dive down the next path. You don’t know these gardens, not like Debray. For all you know, you’re going even deeper.  
You hear a step behind you and swirl to face it. You squint, trying to see who is there. Is it the king? Do you want it to be? What does he mean to do when he catches you? What is the meaning of this game? 
You plunge back into a sprint, puffing as you pump your arms. You whimper and whine as you slow, legs heavy and feet dull. Where are you going? You don’t like this. You remember a night like this before, how the cold dew of the forest crept up your legs, feet hitting the earth in quick succession, the holler of men and snort of horses behind you. 
You stagger and spin back. No, you can’t run anymore. You don’t like this. You don’t like those thoughts. That last night before you were taken to Debray, before you dawned the cap of your bearing. That orphan girl running from servitude. 
You walk forward, shaking as you peer back and forth. You wade through the thick grey air. You hear a twig snap and a bush rustle, each noise from a different direction. Perhaps it is a rabbit or a chipmunk. You sniffle and wring your hands. 
You must find the king. You will surrender this game and ask that he takes you back to the castle. You trudge over the beaten path and hear the soft trickle ahead. It must be the pond. The silver light blooms brighter as you come upon a space in the hedges. 
Suddenly, there is only air beneath your feet. You kick out as something rigid wraps around your waist and lifts you. You wriggle desperately and cry out, your eyes tinging but not overflowing. Your fear has you clawing at the hold around your middle. 
“Please, please, don’t hurt me!” You plead as you flail, “please, sir, I’ll go back to the castle--” you choke as the grasp on you slackens but your feet still do not meet the ground. You quiet as you recall your present, that you are not in that forest, that you are far from Debray. 
You are sat upon the bench, the silver moon gleaming down on you as it outlines the broad shadow before you. King Geralt faces you, kneeling as you tremble and hug yourself. You put your head down in shame. 
“Apologies, your highness, I was lost,” you reach to rub your cheek, flicking back your tears with your lashes, “I got confused.” 
“No, it is I who should apologise, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he takes your hand between his big ones, “I only meant to make some fun.” He brushes his touch up your arms and squeezes as you drop your hand to your lap, “little maid, did I hurt you?” 
You shake your head, “I was only... delirious. It is too dark out here. I cannot see,” you bite down and look away, “apologies, I did act out.” 
“Little maid,” he tickles along your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine, “I would not let you get lost or hurt.” He tilts his hand to cradle your face, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “what was it you were running from in your head? Who?” 
“No one,” you lie. “Just a memory.” 
“Memories are not just that,” he insists, “but I understand how they can hurt. Forgive me, treasure, I wasn’t--” 
“Your highness,” the sullen voice has the king recoiling. He quickly plants his foot and stands. You rise as well, toying with that word he called you. Treasure. “The queen sends for you.” 
Bryce steps out into the moonlight. You look at him then the ground. How long had he been there? How much had he heard? 
“The queen,” King Geralt grumbles, “what is it she wants? It is late--” 
“She would not say and I would not guess,” Bryce says, “but she screams for it. Like a yowling cat.” 
The king sighs and lowers his head. He squares his shoulders and resets his posture. He steps away from you and gestures to his soldier. The king twists around and marches away. Bryce falls into pace with you as you follow. He is silent, you all are. 
You approach the castle, guards lurking in the shadows, and are let past the front doors by a sombre pair. Inside, you follow the king through the great hall and up the stairs. You peek over at Bryce as you proceed down the corridor. He gently squeezes your wrist, just briefly, and carries on. 
“Your highness,” Bryce speaks as you hear a racket ahead of you; screeching and crashing. “Should I escort the maid back to her chambers?” 
“Cursed woman,” King Geralt mutters as he slows, Queen Jazlene’s door just ahead. He pauses and looks over his shoulder, “the cost of a kingdom...” 
“Your highness?” Bryce prompts once again. 
You echo him and step forward, “I could calm her. Bring some wine--” 
“No, she will have no more of that,” the king declares sharply. “I wed her, I put my name next to hers, so it is I shall attend to her. Sir,” he looks at Bryce, “do as you suggest, put the maid in her chambers and I will put the queen in her place.” 
“Aye, your highness,” Bryce bows his head and points you back, “come, maid, the night wears on.” 
You glance up at the king. His golden eyes are wrought as his gaze holds yours for only an instant. You see the hesitation bob in his throat before he turns away. You mirror him and follow Bryce back along the corridor. 
As you climb to the next floor and continue down another corridor, Bryce slows. He stops as he gets to the door and faces you. He takes a breath as he looks you up and down. 
“It’s treacherous here in the summer kingdom,” he says, “but that will not change on the road. Mouse, you keep yourself well.” 
“Thank you, sir, I am fine.” 
“Aye, you do not take my meaning but you do not take the king’s either,” he puts his hand on his belt, “his favour might do you fine in this moment, but it is dangerous. Let not others notice so they may not envy it.” 
You grimace and shake your head, “what do you mean?” 
“Your little games do not need an audience. It is no tournament.” 
Your chest sinks and your skin speckles. Is he accusing you of something? 
“I... I haven’t done anything untoward. I would not, sir--” 
“You may not,” he intones, “but we are all ruled by the will of the king.” 
“Sir, the king is married to Lady Jazlene--” 
“And we both see how they fare,” he states bluntly. “Carry my words with you, do with them as you may, but I could not leave them unsaid.” 
Your eyes gloss and your nose tingles once more. He’s mad. Truly, he can’t think you and King Geralt. A maid and her master. 
“I would not,” you repeat. 
He huffs and nods curtly. He turns to the door and unlatches it, “go, rest your head while you can.” 
“Sir Bryce--” 
“I am bid protect you by the king,” he pushes the door inward and rests his hand on the frame, “not from him.” He looks past you, as if through, “little mouse, I do hope I am wrong as well but I know better than to depend on that.” 
You shudder and tug at the end of your sleeve. You slump and drag your feet through the doorway. You stop, just inside, “good night, sir.” 
He grunts and pulls the door shut. Your lip trembles as your heart races, just as it did in the garden. He is wrong. He must be. You saw yourself how the king is trying, he even said it was the queen he meant to game with earlier. It was only that she was too unwell. He said it! 
And he goes to the queen’s chamber that night. He is not there. He has not been disloyal. The matter is not your concern. You serve wine, you lace gowns, you braid hair. You are only the maid. 
⚔️
You return to the queen’s service the next morning. The world is a bit more familiar as you help her into her gown and twine her hair into an elaborate coif. Servants pass in and out of her chambers as they prepare for the royal party’s imminent departure. 
“Why can we not keep this capital?” Queen Jazlene whines, “but my husband does insist on return to his frigid homelands.” 
You say nothing as you sift through the old monarch’s jewelry chest. You present to her successor each gem, brooch, and chain. She has yet to turn any away though you wonder if there would be room in her already bustling luggage. Perhaps the cart will be a touch more crowded on your ride north. 
“And yet my husband did come to me,” she boasts, “I think... hmm, well, perhaps this marriage won’t be so turbulent.” 
You show her a cuff and she snatches it. She puts it on her wrist, turning her arm this way and that, as she oohs and aahs. She wiggles excitedly. 
“I recall this piece. One year, when I came with father to court, the queen wore this cuff. You see the emeralds. I remember she was so proud of it even though all the court knew it was only gifted to her by her husband to distract from his mistress,” she trills, “oh, how foolish. But the old queen was so boring. It is a wonder the king didn’t dispose of her, who can blame him for taking an amour?” 
She sighs and looks at the mirror, “and she wasn’t half so pretty as me.” 
You remain silent, continuing to sort with her endless approval. You don’t think there is a single trinket she could ever turn away. You don’t see the need for so many of the same thing. Some stones are brighter than others but why not keep the brightest and do away with the rest. 
“As I was saying,” she goes on, “last night when the king came to me, he was... almost meek. That man. Can you imagine? I admit I was distraught after the day I suffered but he listened and we spoke.” She strokes her fingers as she admires her oval nails. “There are some southern lords who will come north as well, some northern to stay behind. He says it will help us acquaint the two kingdoms into one.” 
She drops her hands and pushes her shoulders straight, “he is wise. I suppose I should heed him if I am to be a good queen.” 
You are want to agree but to do so aloud may be taken as insult. She might have done it sooner and saved herself some trouble. Yet it isn’t your place and you haven’t the wisdom of a queen. You’re merely a servant. 
“Once I give him an heir, he will have to listen to me too. Yes, I will do what mother could never. Give my husband a son,” she drags her hand to her midsection, “I think last night...” she flutters her lashes dreamily. Her suggestion makes you squirm. Her and the king’s relations are hardly your concern. “It was better,” her voice is brittle, “even if...” she peers around and clamps her lips. She narrows her dark eyes, “close the door.” 
You obey. You come back to her and return to your previous task. She reaches in to pluck out a string of pearls. 
“He puts me on my stomach,” she whispers, almost as if she thinks you won’t hear, but she is speaking to you. There is no one else in the room. Perhaps she is only embarrassed that she has only to the courage to tell a maid. “And he behind me so I can’t see him and... he can’t see me but... but if he could...” she toys with the pearls, “if he’d just look at me, he might like it better.” 
You lift a pair of medallions earrings and she ignores them. She tosses the pearls back in the chest and stands. You back away. 
“He won’t let me touch him otherwise,” she mulls as she paces. “But he is warming. It is early, isn’t it? And compared to the first night... I don’t know. It will get better. It must.” 
She quiets and stands by the window. Her anxiety is palpable. It’s uncharacteristic. You’ve never seen her uncertain of anything yet you can understand it. She is soon to set off to a new life and to brave a long road. When she reaches her destination, she will be a true queen. When you get there, you’ll still be a maid. 
“I’ll go to him tonight,” she says and raises her head, “yes, yes, I will go to him and try again.” She spins and smirks at her grand idea, “maid, I must find something to wear for him. Well, nothing very much,” she remarks coyly, “but I will need a robe. Yes, I saw a satin one in the queen’s closet.” She swallows and stands as straight as she can, “my closet.” 
You diligently cross the chamber and search the wardrobe. You find a white satin robe stitched with gold and silver. You turn to show the queen. She giggles and claps her hands. 
“Wine,” she says, “I must find some courage too.” 
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sugarpasteltmnt · 2 days
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First of all, AMAZING UPDATE WHAT HAVE YOU DONE IM CRYING. ;0; keep doing waht you're doing cuz your doing it great, I'll jsut be over here sobbing :,). I loved the Raph POV, it felt so believable, plus you set up the "treasure hunt" really well while ALSO stabbing everyone through the heart bcs leo the boy oh no the poor boy, I swear you've broken me how dare you/pos
Other than recognising *clearly* amazing work, I was just wondering if you are okay with art that is speculating about future chapters? Nothing major (mostly just low quality doodles and stuff like that), but I wanted to ask just in case :D
SO LATE TO THIS ONE SORRY!!! omg thank you so much ;w;!! That’s super reassuring to hear, as this latest chapter was a big struggle for me ;w; I’m glad you enjoyed it!!
KASJDASASJDHAS AND SURE!! I’d love to hear theories!!! 👀🩵💗🩷💖💕
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hiiii i just wanted to say that i love your writing and i think youre absolutely stunning💟
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Thank you!!! Writing is an important part of my life and among my absolute favourite creative hobbies. It means so much to me to know the bits of my brain I share on here are appreciated.
At the end of the day, I just want to make people smile doing what I love. You brightened my day! Every message similar to this one, sitting in my asks right now, has truly made being here a pleasure. I see them all, and I'm incredibly grateful. 💖
Thank you again. ✨️🌙
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starflungwaddledee · 1 month
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Song quiery/request: Starstruck and Meta? o:
starstruck and meta knight (gen... ish?) ; liar by the Arcadian Wild
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i sense deception to come, honestly, truth and i are never one coz i am the lying man, and i have made you my next victim oh, i need you to see through my act, to tell me i'm wrong, to take off the mask or else i'll be left in the lie, and i'll deceive my way straight to demise
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