Tumgik
#dual pov
jessread-s · 7 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
✩ 💜🐸Book Fanart:
📖: Trystan and Evie from “Assistant to the Villain” by Hannah Nicole Maehrer
This post is in collaboration with my sister @binjobo.0, who drew this lovely masterpiece as a birthday gift to me 🤩
Please click this link to show their art account some love.
Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph
210 notes · View notes
oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months
Text
Fit for a King - WIP - "You are tiny"
Tumblr media
Fit for a King - Masterlist
König fanfiction scenes and chapters that do not yet have a coherent plot
planned content/TW: rivals to lovers, König x fem!character (not too descriptive to make it accessible for more readers), social anxiety killing machine König, badass friendly FMC, dual POV, secret relationship, switch energy, NSFW, adult themes, strong language, violence (more details are still unclear, gonna update as I go), authentic austrian german
a/n: well, my brain isn't letting go of this newest obsession of mine, so I will appease it and write some scenes/chapters that come to mind. i have written more original work and less fanfictions and our boy (and KorTac) is hard to research, but I'll try my best to stay some-what cannon to the lore. it'll also probably get darker down the road.
if your character doesn't have a tragic backstory, why not give him one?
A not so meetcute
(CW: some mature language)
I strut along the hallway, I'm already late to report for duty and turn the corner abruptly. I collide with somebody else at full walking force and almost get pushed to the floor, if the big figure blocking the light shining from above wouldn't have caught me. "Ouch.", I yelp, more surprised than hurt, even though I feel like ran over by a truck.
I steady myself to look at the "truck". I look up and I keep looking up and up. At first there's just this chest, a huge chest, in a simple compression shirt, but oh boy. The weapon holster is what I see next, sitting snug at the side of his torso. Shoulders, big broad shoulders, and normally you would expect to have a head sitting on top of them and a face looking back at you. I guess, he has one as well, even though I don't see one bit of it. I strain my neck to finally meet his eyes.
But all I see is the dark black of a… sniperhood? A T-shirt? I mean, it looks like a t-shirt, that somebody cut holes in to fashion themselves a kind of mask. The front is stained with bleach, two streaks coming down from the eyeholes... My eyes widen as it sinks in who this is. König. KorTac operator, field combatant and one of my superiors. Shit. I've heard some rumors about him. And it seems like at least some of them ring true.
"You are tiny.", he states matter-of-factly, his Austrian accents shining through the uttered words. It's the first thing he says to me. "And you are... not.", I retort. I can't make out his expression as it so obviously is hidden by his mask. He nods, turns around and heads down the hallway where he came from. I shake my head. What the hell was that?
I stretch myself, feeling the impact of the collision already. My god, that was like being hit by a battering ram. I heard that his specialty is breaking down doors with brute force. I thought this to be ridiculous, but now as I watch the gigantic muscled man strut down the hallway, quickly disappearing, I do believe it. 6'10" killing machine. Ridiculous.
I shake my head again and make my way to the meeting room. Ridgeback is already waiting for me.
______________________________________________________________
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Verdammt. Ah, des hast du ganz super g'macht.* I tell myself sarcastically in my head as I basically run down the hallway. She must be one of the new hires. Must be. And you almost turned her to mush. Mus. Brei. Human remains splattered against the wall. I curse myself again. I didn't even apologize. "You are tiny." No shit, Sherlock, everybody is tiny compared to you. I continue to mock myself. Fuck, Shit, Fuck.
"Ridge, since when do we hire children?", I ask him as soon as I enter the room. He doesn't even look up. "We don't." He keeps reading. "Then why did I just almost run over a recruit that didn't even reach my waist?" – “Because compared to you, everybody seems tiny.” He sighs and looks up at me. “None of our personnel are under 6’, not even the women.”
“Even the new recruits?”, I ask him again. He furrows his brow. “What did you do, König?”, he wants to now. “I may or may not have almost trampled one of them.”, I say, kleinlaut***. He sighs again. “I think that was Müller, she’s actually on her way here.”, Ridgeback says. “Müller? Is she german?”, I ask in surprise. I didn’t hear such an accent on her, but to be fair, she only said like three words… and I wasn’t really paying attention to her words anyway.
On cue, the door opens and I fall silent. “Permission to enter, Sir?”, she says with a clear voice. Not at all seeming like I almost turned her into pulp. I take two steps back to stand in the back, trying to blend into the wall behind me – which I already know from experience is not going to work. “Come in.”, Ridge says. “Müller, right?” She nods and approaches. My focus is fully on her, all the small bits I noticed about her before are still there. She’s not wearing a mask because it’s not necessary off mission. You know, like you normally would. She has laugh lines. Around her eyes and mouth. Fucking laugh lines. She doesn’t look like she belongs here.
The two of them are talking, but I catch every single time when her gaze lands on me, even if it’s just from the corner of her eyes. I fight against the urge to turn away every time she looks at me, when I hear Ridgeback drop the old s-word. Sniper.
My ears perk up and I finally pay attention to what they’re saying again. “Your track record is almost immaculate, Müller. You’re gonna be an asset to the team on the next missions.”, he says to her. I can see that she tries to hold back a proud expression or smile on her face, but she doesn't really succeed at that. God damn it, a sniper. I groan and make my way to the door which doesn’t go unnoticed. “König.”, Ridgeback pipes up. “You wanna show Müller the way to the dorms?” as I already have my hand on the doorknob.
I still for just a moment and the roaring sensation of anxiety seeps at my feet and crawls up my body until it’s nested at the back of my head. I can’t talk to her. Not after embarrassing myself before. “Nein.”, is all I say before I’m out the door.
*God damnit. You did a really bang up job. ** two different words for pulp/mash *** meekly (word for word: 'smallloud')
140 notes · View notes
ant-thebooknerd · 1 month
Text
A Kenji x Nazeera dual POV book about their relationship. That's it. That's the post. We can make it happen if we manifest the energy.
53 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Freaky Friday (I woke up in my enemy's body)
Read | 8K | M
“So he’s entered some weird-ass, stress-induced fever dream where he’s in Henry’s body. It’s probably, like, the latent guilt Alex feels for the repercussions this will have on his mom’s approval rating even though the whole thing is objectively stupid and people will forget about it in a week.” Or, a FirstPrince Body Swap AU.
I finally get to share this Halloween, Huh? fic with y'all and I'm so excited! Beyond the summary: this fic is Canon Divergence (picks up directly after Cakegate), Dual POV, Crack Treated Seriously. Featuring a soliloquy about Henry's dick, among other things.
Also yes, the title is from both the movie and a riff of the Lil Dicky song, no, I will not be taking any further questions at this time about it.
92 notes · View notes
henryhenhazza · 26 days
Text
Tumblr media
History, Huh? (Bet We Could Teach Some) by Henrybaby
Teen & Up | Chaptered | Complete | Ao3 | 35k
They’re both teachers. They’re both stupid. They both fall in love over lectures, grading, and early morning coffee (with a little help from some meddling teenagers). Or; Alex & Henry teach at Austin Preparatory Academy and are asked to teach a joint History/English course together. They’re the only ones in the classroom who don’t realize their heated arguments over historians aren’t really about what’s in the textbooks.
Competence Kink, Hot History Teacher Alex, Lacrosse Coach Alex, English Teacher Henry, Dual POV, Forced Proximity, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Miscommunication, Slow Burn, Non-Royal Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Happy Ending
43 notes · View notes
y4nd3r3gf · 1 month
Text
“I beg of you to stop and think this through
I̷͔̔t̴̘̀'̸̟̃s̴̠̑ ̴͕̄t̶̯̾i̴̬͋m̶̻̆ẽ̸̖ ̶͇̚y̶̫͂ő̴̧u̷̳̽ ̵̡̓ŝ̸͖t̷̺̕a̵̬̅r̵̫͛t̷͚͝ȩ̷̌d̸͇͒ ̵̀͜p̶̈́ͅl̷̻̿a̷̩͂ȳ̶̡ị̴̕n̴͊͜g̵̲͝ ̵̭̃ẃ̶̗i̴̥̐t̵̨́ḥ̷͗ ̷̪͗ṡ̷̰o̸̹͒m̴̪͑ĕ̵̪ȏ̸̪n̸̥̾e̸͇̔ ̵͕̒ǹ̵̹e̸͎̍ẅ̴̢́
̷̣̊̔W̴̫̌̔hy ̸̖͆́w̸̛̥on'̵̥̭̇t y̵̳̳̏ou ̶̪̌leav̴̾͜e m̷̤̈̄e alone?"
You cause a shivering fright in my bones, when I turn to glance at the nearest corner or over my shoulder. You’re everywhere. In the corner of my eye, the chill in the air, and the shadow that looms over me on the ground. You follow after me like some kind of personal watcher. I don’t need to see you to know you’re already there. And that’s the problem, ‘I don’t want to fall in love with you’. Not when I know you follow after me as if it’s become a natural routine for you, for us. Our daily habit of a chase. It scares me, worries me, or at least it should. Would you call me insane if I knew who you were from the very start? Since our first encounter?
24 notes · View notes
murasaki-cha · 4 months
Text
A little book rant! I love dual pov in romance books! I love them so so so much!!
And I especially love them when there's a closed off love interest who doesn't really emote much!
Because we go to character A (main character) and we see things from their perspective. They might do something stupid. They might be doing the most normal thing ever. They might be doing something very romantic. Heck they might be just breathing. And they look at character B and they're just standing there looking blankly, or looking grumpy, at most they might have a small smile.
AND THAN WE GET TO CHARACTER B POV!! AND THEY ARE JUST SCREAMING ON THE INSIDE!! LIKE THEY ARE GOING AKSKLDKSNSLDKNSKSPSNSKSOKS! They are in fact this close👌 to crying because of the feelings character A is making them feel.
I go feral over this!!
If I have to give some excamples
I would say one of the greatest moments in my existence was when I was reading Assistant To The Villain and Evie kissed Trystan AND THAN IMMEDIATELY we jumped to Trystan's pov! I almost cried ngl. I freaking screamed for 3 minutes straight (on the inside because I was in public). Honestly it was hilarious going to Evie's pov and she's all "Oh my god I would kill for him, I can't let him figure me out" and than we go to Trystan's and he's all "Crap I'd kill for her I can't let her figure me out".
Wes isn't the type of love interest I described but the extra chapters from Better Than The Movies that were from his pov (The party, Liz's proposal, Basketball Night and their road trip chapters) might have completed my entire life. Might have been the missing piece of my soul. Might have given me a new purpose for living. Might have rewired my brain. Just might have.
A Thousand Heartbeats by Kiera Cass made me experience all the emotions THEY JUST LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH THOSE FREAKING IDIOTS!!
*punching a wall* AARON! FUCKING! WARNER'S! POV! CHAPTERS!!!!
I'm reading the Shepherd King duology and book 2, Two Twisted Crowns has 3 pov but 2 of those are between the main character and her love interest in the first book so it counts (also this series is amazing please read it!!!)
I rescently read The Brightest Light of Sunshine by Lisina Coney, NA romance with an age gap, and it was so so cute and touching and when you read their povs you could tell they both were in love with each other from the begining but they were too stubborn to admit it to themselves! Again the love interest isn't really the type that I described but still they're idiots and he constantly fangirls over her so yeah.
Butcher and Blackbird gets a special mention because I love them! Idiots! Bafoons! Dumbasses in love! Both of them just go asjjskdjdd over each other tho so into the list it goes. God I'm eating this audiobook up like Rowan ate that beef niçoise (iykyk)!!!
Some very specific NA hockey player books and book series. I have needs.
I have to mention Defy The Night, I have to. I have yet to finish Defend The Dawn so shush don't tell me anything. Though I loved the dual pov there less about the romance and more when it came to presenting the current situation of the kingdom from both perspectives of the Royals and the Wilds. So it doesn't really fit with what this post is about but I just wanted to mention it because I really liked this book
And if I had to pick one book that I wish would have a dual pov...... Red White And Royal Blue. Even if Henry's inner monologue would have been a long string of "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKK I'M SO GAY I'M SO SO SO BLOODY GAY!!!!!". I'd pay good money for that actually
51 notes · View notes
vikingmagic33 · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media
A little meet-cute in the garden leads Elain to visit Gwyn in the library. Here is the first installment for a Gwynlain fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle 3. @azrielshadowssing which happens to coincide beautifully with @gwynweekofficial and pride.
Read on AO3 here!
~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~
Gwyn raced up the darkened stairwell, before spilling out of the doorway and into the rooftop’s blistering sun. She squinted up at Rhysand. He chucked down affectionately at her disheveled appearance. “You’re late,” Rhys stated with mock annoyance.
The sun was making its descent and baked the clay roof in a crackling glow. Gwyn caught sight of steam and her vision of the horizon beyond blurred through pockets of sweltering air. She gulped it down and savored freedom on her tongue.  
“Let me guess.” Rhys continued. “Merrill has concocted some new form of torture?” 
“Nothing new about it.” Gwyn smoothed the folds of her robes and gave him an impertinent stare. 
“But still torture.” He looked immediately concerned. “I can speak to...”
“I’m fine, Rhys.” Gwyn blurted. “I’ve told you that a million times already. I’m fine. I can deal with Merrill. Shall we?” 
She reached for his arm without waiting for his response. Rhys reached down to gather her to his side, as wings appeared, and he pushed up once in a massive boost just beyond the wards. The force of the push caused her sandals to slip. She heard them drop against the roof mere seconds before he’d winnowed them away. 
The first thing Gwyn noticed was the feel of a slightly damp lawn under her feet. The River House was close enough to the water that even on a hot day, spray from the river kept the gardens dewy and fresh. She drew up her hem only slightly to peer down as her toes wiggled. Emerie had painted them a perfect robin’s egg blue at a book club sleepover the night before and Gwyn relished the look against the green and soaked the silkiness through the soles of her feet.  
Rhys had asked that she give regular reports on life within the library. Clotho was technically the correct chain of command, but Rhys had expressed an interest in speaking informally on morale and their general quality of life. Gwyn had been happy to oblige. She had a list tucked into a pocket of her robes and she respected his concern. They had been meeting regularly for months, but that was the first meeting since Rhys had suggested they move them to the River House and expand their discussion to include the new Valkyrie training program. 
“You’re getting positively tan, Gwynnie.” Cassian’s bark boomed from the back steps and Gwyn’s gaze lifted from her feet to her friend’s face. “I think you’ve got twice as many freckles as you did when I first met you.” He chuckled before reaching up to tweak the end of her nose. Nesta swatted his hand and Gwyn rubbed her palm over the spot dramatically, but still managed to stick out her tongue when nobody was looking. 
She hadn’t seen the pair on the roof, so they must have arrived sometime earlier. From the state of Nesta’s hair, they could have been flying. Then again, there was no telling what else could have tangled it so much. Gwyn eyed her friend’s appearance and lifted a brow. Nesta just shrugged. Not flying then. Gwyn grinned. She was happy for Nesta. 
“I could give you a hat.” Gwyn spun at the sound of a feminine voice behind her in the flowers and found Elain kneeling in the garden. Elain set aside a pair of shears and slowly rose to her feet, careful not to touch her dress with her filthy gloves. “Not to say that freckles aren’t very pretty. Just… if you wanted a hat, I do have plenty. I could spare a few for you. If you’d like.” 
Gwyn’s gaze traveled up to Elain’s wide-brimmed, straw hat. It had an elaborate ribbon tied just beneath her chin. The absurdity of the offer was simply adorable. Gwyn couldn’t train in a floppy garden hat, but sincerity and perhaps nerves were clear in Elain’s voice, so Gwyn did not scoff.  
“Thank you, Elain,” Gwyn replied gently. “But I can’t see that I would have any use for such a thing in the library or in the training ring.” She noticed Rhys and Cassian disappearing through the kitchen door, but Nesta waited for Gwyn. 
“But surely elsewhere...” Elain studied Gwyn’s face as though she was being asked to state the obvious. 
Gwyn’s heart lurched and her face must have fallen. She saw confusion bloom in Elain’s eyes and again her heart softened. Elain wasn’t criticizing her. To hear Nesta tell it, Elain didn’t travel very far herself, but at least she could venture into Velaris unaccompanied. Nesta stepped forward and started to speak, but Gwyn stepped between the two. 
“We don’t get much light in the library.” Gwyn chided herself for her choice of words. She felt heat creep up her neck. She sounded like a moron or some sort of neglected houseplant. 
Elain was positively glowing, standing there, in her immaculate garden and she wasn’t actually wrong. Gwyn should be going more places. Gwyn should have need of a hat. 
“None at all?” Elain stepped forward and wiped at her brow with the back of one delicate wrist. All she managed to accomplish was to trap one dark blond curl into the dampness at her temple and Gwyn hid a smile. “How can anything hope to thrive in utter darkness?” Elain sounded ready to picket. 
“They do have candles, Elain.” Nesta sounded cross and Gwyn waved her off. She didn’t want to be the source of strife between the sisters. There had been plenty of that in the past and things were just starting to settle. 
“Not everything needs to be baked in the sun, Elain. We are the Night Court, are we not? Night can be beautiful too.” Gwyn practically purred. She was shocked by the tone in her own voice. Where had that come from? 
“I guess so.” Elain huffed a breath distractedly at that pesky curl, but it did not budge. 
“Here. Let me help you out.” Gwyn reached over and tugged the curl free. “Better?” 
“Thank you, Gwyneth.” Elain breathed her laughter. “I’m a mess.” 
“Nothing wrong with a bit of sweat,” Gwyn added, froze, and tried to pivot. “You’ve been hard at work.” Gwyn pointed awkwardly to an impressive pile of rose branches discarded near Elain’s very organized workstation. It was a folded towel for her knees and a bucket of what appeared to be bonemeal. Gwyn had been impressed to hear she recycled them from kitchen scraps. “We should let you get back to it.” 
Elain nodded. “Always nice to see you, Gwyneth.”
“You too, Elain.” Gwyn took Nesta’s arm and aimed for the house. Nesta narrowed her eyes.
“What was that?” Nesta hissed. 
“I have no idea.” Gwyn lied. She did have an idea. In fact, she had several. 
“You were flirting with my sister.” Nesta accused with a hungry smile. 
“I was doing no such thing!” Gwyn denied with a pout. “I was just being nice. Can’t I be nice?” 
“Liar,” Nesta growled under her breath. “You’re never that nice to me.”
“Well. You’ve never offered me a hat.” Gwyn hid her blush by rushing forward into the house. 
~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~
Elain made her way quietly down the dimly lit hall. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to sneak, assuming that was even a fair description of her behavior. But it always felt like she was sneaking around the River House or the grounds or even into Valeris. The last, she liked to consider more exploration, even if she would bet all of her allowance that her sisters would scoff at that characterization. 
Rhys could be counted upon to be visiting Feyre’s art studio in the Rainbow on most afternoons and she’d timed her trek upstairs accordingly. Elain had no interest in dealing with the High Lord. Honestly, she had no interest in interacting with anyone, save perhaps the twins. 
It wasn’t that she disliked her sisters. She didn’t even dislike the families that both had chosen for themselves, not objectively at least. But the twins didn’t avert their gazes too quickly, nor did they let them linger with confusion, when Elain’s comments or behaviors were inevitably deemed uncouth or to be based on some outdated human mindset that Elain had yet to identify and sufficiently weed out. Worse were the moments when time skipped and snagged when a vision nudged or whispered and Elain simply fell behind in conversations or trailed off in the middle of speaking. 
Elain was not some shy or shrinking violet, nor was she a masochist. Solitude was just simpler and she found she liked people more when they said less and when she didn’t have to see them. 
She didn’t usually find herself in his library. Libraries in general were foreign and unknown. Visits were not something that her late mother encouraged and familiarity hadn’t been possible in their new lives after her death. 
Elain needed information though, so she tapped lightly on the door. She sighed happily at the lack of response and turned the ornate knob. Elain pressed her shoulder against his heavy door as it swung gently into the darkness of the room beyond. Need was perhaps a strong word. Elain wanted information. The idea of a gift had bloomed in her mind and she couldn’t seem to shake it. She didn’t want to shake it. 
Ultimately, the library trip had been an utter waste of her time. It had actually taken three trips into Velaris, a visit with a local botanist, and the aid of a rather talented glass blower. Finally, she found herself standing with an awkwardly large box in her arms, asking Rhys for transport to the House of Wind and his permission to visit the library below. 
“Sure.” He dusted toast crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “I’m going up there anyway. I will take the box for you.” Rhys responded absently. Had he even noticed that it wasn’t what she’d requested from him at all? 
“I’d rather deliver them myself. Thank you though.” Elain responded as Feyre peeked over the edge of the box at the greenery within. “There are care instructions and all.” Elain shrugged and adjusted the box in her arms with the help of one knee. “If you could just let this Clotho person know that I will be visiting within the library today, you can just drop me at the entrance. I believe there is one somewhere on the roof?” 
Feyre’s head shot up before she offered with a glint of curiosity in her eye, “I can take you.”
No way. Not a chance. Elain shook her head.  
“Rhys just said he was going anyway. Did he not?” 
There was some comfort in knowing that Rhysand didn’t understand her and had no interest in figuring her out. It was neglect masquerading as privacy and she offered back resentment passing for respect. 
“It is done.” Rhys tapped his temple with one finger as he took one last bite of toast and rose from the table. He bent to plant a kiss on his son’s head and one on his mate’s cheek before heading for the door. 
Clotho had been polite and accommodating and Gwyn turned out to be fairly easy to find. 
“This one is called Bird's Nest.” Elain pointed to the first plant. “They call this one a snake plant, but I’m not sure why. The spider plant makes a little more sense when you see the little baby plants that sort of shoot off as it grows.”
“That sounds like quite the kerfuffle.” Gwyn beamed and her laughter washed over Elain. She was happy. The gift had been a good idea after all. “I’d better keep my eye on these and make sure they all stay in line.”
“Yes. Well.” Elain blushed. “And this one, it’s a bromeliad. No silly name. It even blooms without any sun. None need sun. Although they will thank you for these little bauble lights I got in town. The shop owner assured me that they mimic low sunlight.”
“Are these for light too?” Gwyn peered from across the box and reached a hand underneath for support. Their fingers brushed slightly and Elain’s pulse raced. 
“Oh, no. Those are for water.” Elain tried again to adjust her hold on the box and the whole thing nearly toppled despite being trapped between their chests. Elain managed to grab hold of a colorful orb on a long glass stem. “You fill these with water and then stick them into the dirt. They will help with watering.” 
“Thank you.” Gwyn smiled and Elain was nervous at the sheen in Gwyn’s eyes. 
“This one is poisonous to cats.” Elain blurted. “You don’t have a cat do you?”
“Sometimes I think we might, but if he’s going to prowl around here nibbling on my plants, then he deserves a bit of mischief. Don’t you think?”  
“He? If you’re not sure that there is a cat, how do you know it is male?” Elain asked, genuinely amused. 
“A girl cat would know better than to eat strange plants and probably would’ve made some friends by now. At least, with the kitchen staff.” They were talking nonsense and Elain was blissfully happy. 
“So.” Elain had no idea what to say next. “I’ll just give these to you.” Elain aimed for subtle, but managed to shove the box at Gwyn. 
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gwyn stepped away, hands raised. “You can carry them down and help me place them around my reading nook.” She turned toward the stairs. “And I hope you mean to visit them.”
“Pardon?” Elain squeaked. 
“You can’t just give a girl a basket of living things and some vague instructions and expect them to survive.” Gwyn chided and Elain was fairly sure she was teasing her. 
“Box,” Elain mumbled. 
“Pardon?” There was definite teasing in Gwyn’s voice as she mimicked Elain’s earlier nerves. Elain blushed, though not unpleasantly, she noticed. 
“It’s a box, not a basket.” Elain clarified and Gwyn chuckled. Warmth bloomed in Elain’s chest. 
“If any of the other priestesses should want...”
“They can keep their mitts off my ferns.” Gwyn yanked the box possessively to her chest then.  
“Bromeliad.” Elain corrected. 
“See,” Gwyn called over her shoulder as she continued down the stairs. “I’m in over my head already. You simply must save me, Elain.” Perhaps they were both in over their heads, but for the first time that she could remember, Elain didn’t mind at all. 
54 notes · View notes
bookish-karina · 2 days
Text
just something I'm a little curious about...
currently rewriting some scenes to make them Jace's point of view and unsure how often his pov should be shown
14 notes · View notes
haileygonzales · 6 months
Text
Just got an ARC review back from my book Ancient Magic (Gray Stone Witches #2)!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
17 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
🦇 Late Bloomer Book Review 🦇
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
❓ #QOTD What's your favorite type of flower? ❓ 🦇 After winning the lottery, Opal Devlin puts all her money in a failing flower farm, only to find an angry (albeit gorgeous) Pepper Boden already living there. Though she's unable to find her grandmother's will, Pepper claims she's the rightful owner of Thistle and Bloom Farms. While they agree to cohabitate, Opal and Pepper clash at every turn. Can something softer blossom between these polar opposites, allowing a new dream to take root and grow?
💜 Oh. My. (Sappho.) Goddess. You may think you know Mazey Eddings' writing style, but I assure you, you do not. Many of us read The Plus One and/or Tily in Technicolor last year, but truly, Eddings has far exceeded herself with this one. As a neurodiverse author, Eddings' stories often have some element of neurodiversity / mental health, shining a light on the different ways people's brains work while embracing those differences through beautiful, realistic characters. Opal and Pepper are no different, both on the spectrum yet unique in their behaviors and view of the world. These women are not predictable, pre-programmed components of a story; they are ever-blooming, learning how to plant roots alongside one another, share sunlight, and rise despite being different species. Both plants, growing and adapting to different elements, yet very much the same. While Opal and Pepper have always struggled to fit in with the world around them, they manage to cultivate a safe, healthy garden for one another.
💜 This is one of those overwhelming, layered, awe-inspiring sapphic stories that will tug at your heartstrings long after you read it. Eddings' language leaps off the page, making it a little reminiscent of One Last Stop (be still, my little sapphic heart). I've beyond annotated Late Bloomer, when I'm usually selective about choosing quotes. You don't just see love blossom between these two women; you feel it. It made me smile, laugh, get all messy and misty-eyed. As I said, neither woman is predictable. Opal feels directionless at the story's start, allowing her (fake) best friend and (on/off) ex to step all over her. I expected her to be the wallflower, especially with the BITE we see from Pepper (pun unintended) in her first chapter, but the two balance each other out. When Pepper feels uncertain or anxious, Opal steps forward, bold and unwavering. When Opal begins to crumble, Pepper holds her up. They support each other, never allowing the other to wilt.
💙 Unfortunately, this book relies heavily on miscommunication. Both women are eager to hide their real feelings at the risk of scaring the other. That lack of communication continues until almost the last chapter.
🦇 Recommended for fans of One Last Stop and Imogen, Obviously. Side note: please, please read the author's note. Good goddess.
✨ The Vibes ✨ 🌼 Neurodivergency/Autism Spectrum 🌸 Sapphic Romance 🌷 Grief/Healing 🌹 Forced Proximity ⚡ Spicy/First Time 🪻 Cottage Core Vibes 🪻 One Bed ⚡ Touch Her and You Die 🌹 Dual POV 🌷 Miscommunication 🌸 Flower Competition 🌻 Grumpy/Sunshine
🦇 Major thanks to the author @mazeyeddings and publisher for providing an ARC of this book via Netgalley. 🥰 This does not affect my opinion regarding the book. #LateBloomer
💬 Quotes ❝ I’m constantly trying to define myself, to fit nicely and neatly into the boxes and spaces I attempt to occupy. All I’ve ever really wanted to do was belong. Somewhere. Anywhere. ❞ ❝ Slowly, she leans toward me, and my heart pounds so violently in my chest that my head swims. Is she . . . It almost seems like she’s going to press that smile to my mouth. Teach me how it tastes. ❞ ❝ I gave up perfection in any other aspect of my life long ago. It’s simply not possible with a brain like mine. But my art is different; it’s the better version of me, the one I wish people could know me by. ❞ ❝ Ah. There’s the you I missed. ❞ ❝ I used to stress over finding a label that fit me. Lesbian. Bisexual. Pan. Demi . . . I’ve filtered through them all many times over, none ever feeling quite right. Just say queer and move on with your life, Diksha finally told me late one night after what was probably my sixth sexual identity crisis of my early twenties. But what does that mean? I’d wailed, draining more boxed wine into my plastic cup. My brain loves order and labels and concise frameworks to understand things, and not knowing where I fit feels unbearable. It means you’re you, and only you get to decide who you like and when you like them, Tal had said from their chair in the corner. The name of your feelings isn’t anyone’s business but yours. ❞ ❝ But instead, she reaches out to me— opening her hand like a flower unfurling its petals to the sun. I stare at it. The ink stains and calluses and chipped nails and bitten cuticles. For a moment, that hand looks like a second chance. ❞ ❝ Fuck anything and anyone that made you have to survive instead of live. You deserve a life so peaceful it feels deliciously boring. A life filled with flowers and sunny days and people that show you all the time that you’re valued and worthy. You deserve it all.” ❞ ❝ “Her poems spoke softly— as intimately as confessions between lovers—about the terrible, wonderful ache of being in love.” ❞ ❝ Messy and radiant and ours. ❞
7 notes · View notes
jessread-s · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Thanks to @epicreads for providing me with a finished copy in exchange for an honest review
✩🫧🌸Review:
The stakes continue to heighten as Mafi slowly builds on her explosive series.
“All This Twisted Glory” picks up where the second installment leaves off with Alizeh searching for ways to fulfill her destiny as the heir to the Jinn throne. Cyrus, the ruler of Tulan, has offered his kingdom to her with one stipulation: she has to marry him and when time comes, take his life. His past is soaked in blood, so killing him should be easy, but the more she learns about him, the harder it is for her to believe he is the monster he makes himself out to be. What’s more, Prince Kamran arrives in Tulan ready to exact his revenge and he makes her an offer she can’t ignore.
With Kamran in Tulan, Alizeh’s two love interests are at odds. She finds herself being pulled in two different directions, unsure whether she should follow her heart or do what’s best for her people. Her inner conflict is so well done and Mafi doesn’t reveal who Alizeh will end up with until the very end, which kept me on my toes.
The addition of Cyrus’ point-of-view in this book allows readers to gain more insight into his character. While we are still left in the dark about the deal he made with Ibees, details about his past are slowly made known that shed light on the person he might have been if it weren’t for the devil’s intervention. His old hopes, dreams, and ambitions in addition to the torture he endures at Iblees’ hand add depth to his character and make him more sympathetic. The reader also gets to see just how deeply he feels for Alizeh and how tormented he is by Kamran’s interactions with her. 
Because Mafi spent a lot of time establishing the country of Tulan in “These Infinite Threads”, I expected more action in this book. In actuality, this was not the case. The majority of the book focuses on the palpable tension between Karman, Cyrus, and Alizeh instead of larger conflicts like the war between Tulan and Ardunia as well as the Jinn prophecy Alizeh must fulfill. The killer cliffhanger, however, proves that a lot is in store for book 4 and I cannot wait to see what Mafi has up her sleeves!
Cross-posted to: Instagram | Amazon | Goodreads | StoryGraph
24 notes · View notes
oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months
Text
Fit for a King - WIP - “Sit” (Dual POV)
Fit for a King - Masterlist
a/n: this got kinda long, progressing their relationship
(nsfw, almost pure smut, some secrecy, overstimulation)
Everybody's getting on the truck after we stow away all the stuff in the other one. I'm the last one to jump in and 9 pairs of eyes are looking at me (the rest of their faces are covered by the masks) as I'm left standing. "Are you kidding me?"
Nikto is the first one to chime in. "I don't think they factored in the median size of a KorTac operator when saying that these trucks can carry 10." Some of them chuckle. "And I'm supposed to stand now?", I ask them, pulling up an eyebrow. There's a little scuffle as they rearrange when the man right next to me catches my wrist and says: "Sit."
The scuffling stops as the remaining 8 pairs of eyes land on the one offering me his lap to sit on. Even sitting down he's almost at my eye level. Aksel clears his throat and says: "We made some space on the bench." Between him and Nikto was now a hand’s breath of bench unoccupied. It isn't even enough space to fit a small child.
König scoffs and pulls me into him, so I land on his thigh. "Gonna talk to Horangi.", he says, so everybody hears it. "It's unacceptable not to have enough room for every operator." I put my hands on my own lap as he stabilizes my back with his hand, for the others not to see.
Nobody says anything else and I just try to ignore the situation. And how it makes me feel. How he makes me feel.
Last night when I was this close to him, two of his fingers were inside me and I was seeing stars. Now I can feel his thigh against the very same parts and I will my thoughts to steer away from the path they're heading down now. (Also ignoring the fact that he stole my fucking panties.)
______________________________________________________________
She's sitting on my lap.
She. Is. Sitting. On. My. Lap. Again.
The options were limited. I wasn't gonna let her sit between Aksel and Nikto, those asswipes. The gaze I shot them when they offered her the small spot between them to squeeze herself into, lesser men would've cried. I saw the reactions on their faces and I realized: I need to calm down. I gotta pump the breaks. Like the truck is doing right now and her ass gets pressed into me, onto my thigh. I grit my teeth as I feel the plump curve of her booty against me.
I said I wasn't gonna do anything, that we couldn't do anything. Then I had to go and finger her yesterday because I thought, oh, it's only for her pleasure, to give her comfort, make her feel a bit better. And then I had to taste her because I couldn't help myself. And then I wanked myself to sleep with the same hand that has been inside her.
Jetzt haben wir den Salat1.
And now what. Now she's sitting on my thigh, looking like a personified angel in tactical gear, even with the mask on. Her faint scent makes me want to eat her up, throw her down on the floor, tear her clothes off and fuck her, right here and now. Give the others something to really turn their eyes away from. I can feel my blood starting to boil as I look around the truck, every one of my mates looking away as soon as I meet their gaze on us. I'm getting annoyed and we still have some way to go.
Suddenly I feel a hand on my knee and another pair of eyes on me. I meet her eyes as she leans down a bit whispering: "Everything okay?" I can't form any words that's why I only nod. She hesitates for a few moments but accepts my short answer and looks to the front again. Her hand stays on my knee though, softly stroking ever so often, until I feel how it calms me down having her touch me. Herrgott2, I'm so fucking touch starved.
_____________________________________________________________
I'm in my room reading the dossiers for the next mission. My head is already swimming from all the information and I'm already tired. When we got home from the mission and I could finally hop off König's lap (Schoß, that's what they call it in german), everybody scrammed in an instant, something better to do than to linger around.
I went for a shower, worked out and then I went to the shooting range, to drop some more dummies. When I was content with the shots, I got back to the room. The two operators with whom I share it are still out on another mission. And now I'm studying the dossiers. And I catch my thoughts steering towards König again. I even thought about looking into my old stuff from school when I learned german. More than about german vocabulary I thought about the last few days and how it confused the shit out of me, the way he is behaving with me.
On cue or talk about the devil if you will, he comes into the room without even knocking. I turn around on my chair to look at him while he closes the door and just stands there for a moment.
His tall figure dwarfs the small room, the tactical gear is gone and he's wearing a simple black sweatpants and t-shirt. The helmet is gone, but the hood is still on. Yesterday I only saw his hands, today I can see that there are tattoos on both his forearms. Mostly black and grey shapes, I can't make out what they are in this lighting.
"What are you doing here?", I ask him which seems to pull him from his frozen state. With three quick strides he's right in front me and drops to his knees. "I need another taste of you.", he says looking me into my eyes and the lust burning in them makes it unmistakable how he means that.
"I-" His brazen offer has me at a loss for words and when I don't finish the sentence, his hand trails up my thigh. "Please, it's been driving me crazy all day, I need to feel you on my lips." My chin is making its way to the floor as I look at the man in his hood, who had been domineering before, comforting yet unapologetic yesterday, and now is begging me on his knees. "Are you begging me to let you eat me out?", I ask him for clarification. He nods. "Yes." – "Okay.", I say and he doesn't need more than that. His hands are pulling at my pants and I help to get them of, reminded of what we did not that many hours ago. He drops the pants on the floor and doesn't waste any seconds to get to my panties. They're gone and I can anticipate the moment when he finally looks at me. His eyes are glued to the spot between my legs as I open them and drop my knees to the side. I see his brows furrow and his gaze flicks up. "Don't say anything.", I tell him. I shaved when I was under shower after coming home. A little treacherous sign. Of expecting to maybe or maybe not get laid. At least that's one possible interpretation.
I can't see the full expression on his face, but just his eyes speak volumes. He doesn't say anything, just chuckles and then his fingers grip my thighs and his head dives down between my legs. There is no hesitation, no teasing, no soft lead into it. He doesn't waste a single moment and eats me out like he was starving before.
It's his mouth on me, his lips pressing against me, his tongue pushing inside me and circling my clit. My hips buck up when he does this for the first time and all I get is a soft grunt and his hands gripping my thighs even tighter, so I can't escape a single one of his touches. It's everything all at once and I'm losing my mind fast. Soft whines and moans escape my throat and as he sucks on my clit for the first time, I come. Holy shit.
"Again.", he growls, not stopping any of the movements as I still feel the waves of pleasure crash over me, and my sounds get louder and louder. Before I can even register what he's doing, he pushes a piece of fabric between my lips. My panties! "Sssh, Prinzessin3, we don't want the others to hear.", he says, his voice hoarse, his mouth not really leaving my pussy, so the huffs of breath are tickling me as he speaks.
The moans and mewls are muffled by the fabric now, but it doesn't make the sound in this room less erotic. König's kisses, the hungry licks and laps, my muffled cries, the way it sounds when his knees shuffle over the floor as he tries to get even closer. I look down at him and the sight in front of me paired with his restless licking almost makes me come again. His head is framed between my naked thighs, his hood is spilling over my stomach, obscuring the view on what he's doing, his big hands are gripping the curve of my ass moving my hips to his rhythm. Suddenly he looks up and meets my gaze as I feel his tongue dipping into my wetness again and again. I can only feel and imagine what it must look like when his tongue dips down into me. And then he fucking winks at me. I come on his tongue hard, harder than the first time, and if it hadn't been for his arms holding me up, I would have toppled off the chair.
By now I'm also glad that he stuffed my mouth with the panties because of the sounds I'm making. Someone walking by would've surely heard me. Hot tears are running down my face as I whine about how it is too much. "Please, Liebes4, only one more, I wanna be soaked in your juices.", he tells me as one of his hands finds my pussy and one of his fingers sinks into me. He chuckles, the soft sound sending shivers down my spine. "Mmh, so wet again.", he recalls his comment from when he first pushed his fingers into me.
I’m so overstimulated already, but he is not letting up. Stretching me with an added digit, finding a rhythm with his mouth and his fingers that is driving me crazy. His fingers curl inside me, pressing into the most sensitive spot inside me with every move of his hand. His tongue is mercilessly licking over my clit, the pressure being too much and not enough at the same time.
And he is right. I’m so wet, I can feel it on my inner thighs. His fingers in my pussy, his grunts and moans, the flick of his tongue, my muffled cries fill the room once again and as I see stars form in front of my eyes, the almost porny background noises keep stoking my arousal. My hips move restlessly, searching for the friction that finally sends me over edge again. I think I almost pass out, screaming incoherent ramblings into my panties, and I’m sure I’m dropping his name somewhere during my sensual high. Good thing that that is damped by fabric in my mouth, because saying his name while I actually came, out loud and clear… that would have made it all too real. Closer than it already was.
I’m shaking from all the overstimulation and orgasms as he finally lets go of me and I slump down on the chair again. He gets up, just standing there, towering over me, looking down at me. I can’t say anything, just breathe to regain some kind of composure again. He leans down a bit, sending another violent shake over me in anticipation, but he only pulls my panties from my mouth and the relief on my jaw makes me sigh.
The sight of him is sinful, godly and perverted at the same time. His muscles are taut, no doubt he's as turned on as I am. His boner is tenting the sweatpants, the outline clear against the fabric even in the dim light. His hood is stained from my arousal, wet patches from the eyes down. His chest is heaving as he takes in big breaths. His hands are formed into fists, the knuckles white like he needs to restrain himself.
It would be an easy thing to reach for his pants, free his dick and I'm almost a 100% sure he would fuck me. But the same thought that seemingly has him just standing there, looking at me, also halts me, his words “We can’t do that” in the back of my head. Without another word he turns around and leaves. The door falls shut and I’m spent and alone again. Only when I get dressed again, I realise that my panties are missing. Again. God damn it, König.
_____________________________________________________________
Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Verdammt. Ah, des is ja wieder super gelaufen5. I tell myself sarcastically in my head as I basically run down the hallway. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking! At least not with my brain. I can feel the weight of my boner between my legs with every step, and my balls are aching because they're so fucking blue. It almost physically hurts.
The way she was looking up at me, sitting on the lousy chair, her chest moving up and down, making her titties bounce just the slightest bit, her nipples hard against the fabric of her shirt. Her knees dropped to the side, her legs spread open, her pussy wet and ready for my cock. The wetness on her thighs glistening in the low light. The mental picture is clear in my mind, like if I still had her right in front of me.
I wanna be between her legs again. Her thighs hugging my face, my mouth pressed to her lips, my nose nudging against her clit with every eager lick. Fuck, I can still smell her. The way she tastes, smells, moves when she comes on my tongue is engrained in my brain now. After licking her taste off my fingers, it was hard not to think about her; now it's downright impossible.
I groan and the echo being thrown back at me and reminds me that I’m currently making my way down a very public hallway, sporting the hard-on of the century. Great. I take the next door right, heading to my quarters, when I almost run into someone. I curse under my breath. But it’s only Horangi. He wants to greet me, when he sees my state and just bursts into laughter. “Don’t. Fucking. Say. Anything. If you want to live to see tomorrow.”, I say between clenched teeth. Half-joking because the Korean is probably one of the few people who could actually take me. “My guy, what happened to you?”, he asks with a broad grin on his face. “Don’t fucking ask.”, I bark at him. He’s narrowing his eyes as he inspects my hood. ”What are those stains on your hood?” I freeze for a second, then I pull the hood down. Horangi is one of the few people who know how I look underneath. I groan as I see the wet patches on the fabric, they’re from… her. “Himmel, Herrgott nochmal6. Fucking hell.”, I curse in two languages as I try to push past Horangi. I see him shaking his head in the corner of my eyes as I pass him and I hear him saying something in Korean. I practically sprint to my room, shutting the door behind me with a bang and sliding down to the floor (which is a long way to go for a guy like me).
My hand dives down into my sweatpants, gripping my dick, freeing it, groaning when my fingers close around it and I just imagine that it is her touching me. My other hand lets go off my hood and pulls her panties from my pocket that are soaked in her spit. I wrap them around my base and move them along my length as I start to jerk myself off. I just need the release. Or else I’m gonna go back and take her. The pictures start to form in my mind all on their own. How it’s not my own hand that’s jerking me off, but hers. How she would kneel in front of me, taking me in her mouth, and I’d come all over her face. How I would pick her up and fuck her against the wall, burying myself deep inside her. How she would ride me, with me pulling her down on my dick. My own personal imagination porn only stops when I come all over my hands and her panties, staining my sweatpants and leaving little puddles of cum on my stomach. I sigh and curse again. I do a haphazard job at cleaning myself up, take my clothes off and just drop onto my bed, letting the post orgasm haze take me out.
Jetzt haben wir den Salat: literally 'Now we have the salad', a german way of saying: 'look at the mess we're in'
Herrgott: 'dear god'
Prinzessin: 'princess'
Liebes: 'lovely'
Verdammt. Ah, des is ja wieder super gelaufen.: 'Damn, that went well... NOT.'
Himmel, Herrgott nochmal.: 'for heaven's sake'
131 notes · View notes
thescribblednovel · 2 months
Text
Ok, but the bonus chapters in The Hawthorne Legacy were everything!!!!! I adored the boy's perspectives!!!!!!!
15 notes · View notes
lexxwithbooks · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
📖: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 (𝑂𝑓𝑓-𝐶𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑢𝑠 #2) 🎙🏒🔧
✍🏽: 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲
Get the book! 🌟
201 notes · View notes
ramblingdisaster73 · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Chapter 1: We're Married
TK
“Pinch me” Carlos mumbled to TK as he ran his fingers down TK’s arm and back as they woke up.
TK lifted his head from Carlos’ chest, arching a brow in confusion, asking “Uh, babe, why would you want me to do that?” 
“I just can’t believe that I am not dreaming, that this is real.” Carlos admits. 
TK can understand where his husband is coming from, the past few months had been full of ups and downs, unexpected roadblocks, and that bet that had them living in a constant state of arousal without relief. Wedding planning was not for the faint of heart, TK did not recommend doing it more than once, especially that bet part – you should never subject yourself to over three weeks without sex for a bet. Unless you win, which TK had thought he had in the bag.
Until that last tux fitting. That particular event had definitely ended the bet. He could still see Carlos looking down at him, unsure what was going on as TK been on his knees, Carlos’ cock in his mouth, his own in his hand as he had given them both their first orgasm in twenty-two days.
Read more on Ao3
Follow up to Edging the Bet
40 notes · View notes