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#fairytale romance
vosveti · 4 months
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The Prince Part 3 - final part
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And ofc they lived happily ever after
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seahagart · 1 year
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cursed werebear warrior woman saves local prince and now he has a crush on her. She lives in a cave in a mountain and is very happily cursed, no plans on fixing that
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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 4 months
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Today was a Fairytale
Pairing: PrinceJosephQuinnxReader
Summary: The King and Queen have a ball to find a bride for their son. Prince Joseph is not amused because he is beyond bored of all the royal ladies and their ridiculous natures. He has been refusing marriage for far too long. So, they agree to open it up to any eligible maiden in the kingdom. You receive an invitation and have no desire to go but the punishment for not going is far too harsh and you like your neck too much. Little do you know, but going to the ball will be the best decision you ever made.
18+ ONLY Minors Go Away
Word Count: 7.1K
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“Joseph, this is not an option,” his mother chastised, striding across the room, her face set, letting him know she was not amused by him. Of course, she rarely was amused by him. “You are the Prince. One day you will rule this kingdom and it will be expected for you to have a bride, a queen, so that you may produce heirs. This ball is not a choice. It is your responsibility as our son.”
Joseph slunk down into his seat, arms folded over his chest, full lips in his famous pout. It was a running joke in the castle that his face was simply stuck that way as he was often unhappy. This castle, this life, everything about it, annoyed the hell out of him. 
“But mum,” he whined, a man far too old to do so, “balls are so ridiculous. I don’t want to get dressed up. And I don’t want to get married. The royal girls are so boring. All they want to do is sit, look pretty, and talk about nonsense. It’s bloody awful and I’ve already met them all. Remember Princess Elena that visited last month? I wanted to rip my bloody ears off just to get her to stop talking about her damn poodles.”
His mom’s long manicured nail came to her mouth as she thought about his words. Joseph straightened optimistically, thinking perhaps he’d gotten through. Perhaps his mother had actually listened to him for once. Perhaps she wouldn’t force him to marry some boorish girl that would make him miserable for the rest of his days. 
“Well, if you’ve already met the royal girls, then perhaps it’s time we opened up the pool a bit.”
“Excuse me?”
“Perhaps we don’t just invite royal girls. Perhaps we invite the entire kingdom. Every eligible young lady can attend the ball. Maybe then my stubborn son would be able to find a bride that is up to his ridiculously high standards.”
Joseph snorted, “As if father would ever approve of me marrying a commoner.”
“You let me deal with your father. I have my ways of persuading him.”
She smirked and Joseph felt his stomach turn over. He made an obnoxiously loud gagging noise, leaning forward in his seat. 
“Jesus, mother. Was that really necessary?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. How do you suppose you came to be? Don’t be such a prude Joseph. How will you ever provide heirs if you’re going to be so sensitive to the very subject of sexual intercourse?”
“My god, mother! Please stop!” He leapt to his feet, covering his ears. “I am not sensitive to the subject. I know about it quite well, actually. I am just sensitive to the idea of my parents and that subject.”
His mother rolled her eyes, “We are humans, you know, and not so old as to not be…”
“Enough!” he pleaded. “I am begging you.”
“Fine,” she laughed, shaking her head. “I will go speak to your father. You are going to find a suitable wife at this ball if it’s the last thing I do. You are getting far too old to be a bachelor anymore. People are talking, you know? You think I don’t know about your trysts with the maid or the lovely young girl who sells goat cheese in town or my handmaiden?”
Joseph’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment. He’d thought he’d been discreet but clearly not discreet enough if word of his sexual relationships was reaching his mother’s ears. It’s not that he wanted to have casual flings but he’d yet to find anyone who interested him beyond what they provided carnally. Most girls simply wanted him because of his status. They wanted a shot at being the queen one day. None of them actually cared to get to know him in the slightest. 
“Mother, I…”
“Joseph,” she warned, holding up a hand to him. “I am aware you are a young, virile male. I know all about urges but this kind of nonsense must stop. We cannot have the prince become a laughing stock of the town. The people will lose all faith in your ability to rule. The simple answer is to see you properly married. It will show that you have grown up, matured, that you are responsible and ready to take on the demands of running a kingdom.”
“I don’t see how being a husband has anything to do with running a kingdom. I do not require a wife to do my duties as King.”
“You do require a wife to produce an heir, which is one of the most pressing demands of a ruler. It leaves the kingdom open to hostility, war, and treachery when there is no clear lineage. Every kingdom within one hundred miles will be ready to lay siege to us. That is enough to leave the people nervous and understandably so. So, we will have a ball and you will find a wife and you will do your duty as next in line for the throne.”
“But…”
“Joseph Anthony Francis Quinn,” she hissed, letting him know with those four words, his full name, that this conversation was closed.
“Yes mother,” he muttered, shoulder slumping forward in defeat. 
____________________________________________________________
A soft breeze lifted your hair as you knelt in the dirt, working to pull a particularly stubborn weed that was fighting back with all it had. Beads of sweat dripped down your face, a salty tang coating your tongue as they slipped off your nose, down your cupid’s bow, and along your lips. Pulling with as much force as you could muster, you fell back, the weed coming with you. 
A small oof fell from your lips as the drop but you smiled, victorious. Finally, the last weed was pulled. Your chores were finished for the day. You were looking forward to washing the dirt and grime from your body, curling up with a good book and a nice, cold glass of lemonade. Anything to ward against this heatwave, summer not wanting to let go of its hold, refusing to allow fall to take over. 
“Hello there!” called a voice from behind you and you turned to see a courier strolling up the stone path toward your small, run-down cottage. 
“Hello,” you replied, placing your hands on the ground, pushing yourself up to stand. The back of your hand swiped across your forehead, removing the sweat but leaving behind streaks of dirt. 
The courier gave a cringey smile as he held out a piece of parchment, rolled up and tied with a bright blue ribbon. You wiped your hands down the front of your dress in an attempt to remove as much dirt as possible before accepting it. 
“What is this?” you inquired as you never received mail, let alone official papers delivered by a royal courier. 
“It is an invitation, madam,” he replied. “All eligible ladies are being summoned to attend the Royal Ball in two days' time. Prince Joseph is searching for his future queen.”
Little frown lines created divots in the skin between your eyebrows. You untied the silky ribbon, rolling the paper out. Sure enough, in lovely flowing writing it said:
The Court of King and Queen Quinn
Summon you to attend a Royal Ball
In honor of the son, Prince Joseph
The 18th day of October at 7 in the evening
Your eyes tracked the words before returning suspiciously to the well-dressed man standing in front of you. Why would you be invited to a ball at the palace? Why would ever be considered to be queen? You were nobody, the sad orphan who no one had wanted, the town exile, living in the woods in a dilapidated cottage you’d found and made your shelter, away from the bustle of the village. 
“Pardon me, sir, but this must be some mistake. I am not royalty. I am not fit to be on the arm of a prince, surely.”
“No mistake, madam. The King and Queen have decided to invite all ladies of the right age who are not married. It appears our prince can be rather fickle and has yet to find a lady of royal status suitable. They are quite keen for him to find a wife so it seems they have…lowered their standards a bit.”
He sneered down at you, his nose wrinkling as if he smelled something offensive. Which, he probably did, as you had spent much of the day in the heat of the sun, working hard. Something this man probably didn’t understand as his only job was to ferry paperwork from the palace. You stood tell, refusing to quaver under his stare, quite used to being looked down upon by others. 
When you started your life being discarded at an orphanage, you were looked at as garbage. The villagers smirked and sniggered behind your back but you could hear all the vile things they said. That your mother must have been a whore. That you were worthless, bad, evil. Because if your own mother didn’t want you then something must be wrong with you. 
After years of putting up with abuse at the orphanage: starved, beaten, berated, you’d had enough. The moment you’d come of age, you ran and never looked back. Finding this little cottage had been a godsend. Maybe it was a mess. Maybe it needed a lot of work but it kept you away, never having to be looked at that way again. 
You raised chickens and planted fruits and vegetables. You learned how to can your produce to make it last you through the winter. You never had any reason to step into that horrible place where everyone thought you were dirt on the bottom of their shoe and you had no intention of starting now, summoned or not. 
“While I appreciate the invitation, I shall be declining,” you stated, making to hand the parchment back but the courier held up his hand, stepping back.
“I am afraid that is not an option,” he stated, shaking his head. “The King and Queen were very clear. Every maiden is required to attend. If you do not, you will be arrested for treason.”
“Treason!?” you exclaimed angrily. “For not attending a fancy dance?”
“You would be betraying your King and Queen, your prince, and your kingdom by not attending.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Be that as it may, I would strongly suggest that you reconsider. Unless you desire to end your life on the hangman’s noose.”
Your stomach turned over. You’d seen enough hangings in your life to know that was not how you wanted to go out. The poor people whose necks didn’t break upon impact were the worst, legs flailing as their eyes bulged out of their heads, slowly choking to death. It appeared you had no choice. Dance or die.
____________________________________________________________
Sitting on his ornate throne, one knee crooked, foot propped in front of him, Joseph watched the bevy of dancers as they twirled around the ballroom. He was bored stiff. This was precisely the kind of thing that he despised about his position. What good was it to be royalty if he had to do things he hated? Shouldn’t he be allowed to say no to anything he wanted? Shouldn’t he be allowed to spend his days however he wished.
Sometimes he envied the commoners with their simple lives. They could come and go as they pleased, no official guard following them around, ensuring they weren’t doing anything that could ruin their reputation. 
A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he remembered the amount of times he’d managed to evade their watchful eyes. Yeah, the young girl who sold goat cheese, with her flaxen hair and ocean blue eyes, had been quite fun. At least for a short time until she got needy and clingy, chasing after his carriage every time it rolled through the village, convinced that he was in love with her.
Joseph had never loved anyone. He had fun, as most young men do. He’d enjoyed the women he’d been with. He may even have cared about a few but he’d never loved any of them. They were either dull as dishwater or they were only vying for one thing. The throne. His position made it quite difficult to find someone who actually wanted him, wanted to know the man that was underneath that golden wreath that circled his head. 
“Darling, there is no point in this ball if you are not going to ask at least one of these maidens to dance,” his mother grumbled from his left. 
Joseph whined, his head thumping against the back of the ridiculously high throne. “I didn’t want to have this ball to begin with so why do I have to participate?”
“Because it is your duty as future ruler,” his father seethed, managing to convey all the disgust he had in his son and his immature behavior while keeping a smile on his face. Must keep up appearances for the people. “You will go socialize, ask ladies to dance, smile…and you will finish this night choosing a queen.”
Joseph sighed, eyes roaming over his options. Every lady here had been presented to him. They’d given him their best smile, curtsied, batted their eyelashes. Anything to try to show him that they were the one he was looking for but none of them were. 
He rose from his seat, rolling his eyes when all eyes turned hopefully towards him. A sea of women all desperate to be the one he would approach. Which one of them would be the least vile? He’d just settled on a lovely brunette in a blue dress when the massive double doors opened and every other thought floated out of his head.
___________________________________________________________
You entered the ballroom, overwhelmed by the sheer opulence of your surroundings. It was a space of pure elegance and grandeur, a setting fit for the royalty that sat at the front, looking down on the commoners from their high thrones. It was not a space that you belonged in, standing in your dress you’d managed to piece together from some emerald velvet curtains that you’d found in a closet. 
It was a scene of beauty and money, your stomach knotting uncomfortably as you thought of the hundreds of people who went hungry, working themselves to the bone, just to survive while this existed. The walls were lined with tapestries and rich fabrics, the chandeliers above filling the space with a magical glow. The marble floor shone bright white. Everything was just as you’d imagined when you read those fairy tales as a child, wishing for an escape from the misery that was your life. 
Couples twirled around the floor in dresses and suits that were masterpieces. Jewels adorned throats and wrists, a dazzling display, twinkling like stars every time the light hit them just so. The food laid out on a table as long as the room was a banquet worthy of royalty, only serving to remind you how so many went hungry while those in the palace gorged themselves and wasted precious resources as if they were nothing. 
It was a place that existed outside of space and time, everything perfect and timeless. It was an absolute dream, a glimpse into a paradise that you would never know. You would enjoy the evening, fill up on delicious food, perhaps even partake in a dance or two if a gentleman asked. But then you would retire, back to your dilapidated cottage, your rags, and your solitude.
“Pardon me.”
Blinking in surprise at being addressed, you turned your head to find the most delicious chocolate brown eyes gazing into yours. Your eyes trailed over him, from the soft curls that adorned his head, the full lips that were curved into the slightest smile, the hand that was turned up in invitation. Standing in front of you was the most beautiful man you had ever laid eyes on. Not that it was saying much as you hadn’t laid eyes on many people at all in the last five years. Not since you fled the orphanage and hid among the trees. 
“I was wondering if I might have this dance?” he inquired, his voice like a gentle sigh, a calming presence in a stormy world, a warm cup of tea on a winter’s night. 
You spotted the circlet of gold that rested atop those luscious locks and paused. This had to be Prince Joseph, the guest of honor, the man who was looking for a wife tonight. Your eyes moved around the ballroom, taking in the bevy of ladies, their eyes turned to you, hatred and seething jealousy pouring from them. Why was he asking you? There were so many beautiful girls to choose from. Surely, you couldn’t be the one he would choose to share a dance with?
“Me?” you asked, hand flitting to your chest. 
Full lips pursed into a deliciously sinful little smirk, “You are the one I am asking, are you not?”
“But why?”
“I am the prince. Do I need a reason?” he questioned, head tilting just slightly, eyes lighting up like the sky at sunrise. 
“No, I suppose you do not. Forgive me, your majesty,” you stammered softly, eyes dropping to your feet. He was the prince. Of course he didn’t need a reason and denying him could also mean the noose for you. 
Two fingers pressed under your chin, lifting your eyes to his, “No need for apologies. Just a dance.”
You swallowed down the anxiety that clogged your throat as one of his hands wrapped around yours, the other curling around your waist. With a slight tug, your bodies were nestled together, so close that you could feel his heartbeat pounding rhythmically against your own breast. 
The musicians began playing a waltz, filled with grace, a melody of joy and pleasure. You stiffened in Joseph’s arms because you had never danced before and the others around you made it look so easy, flowing along with the strains of music. He noticed. Those eyes, the depths of which were pulling you under, crinkled in the corners in amusement.
“Is something wrong?”
“I…you see, I…” you stammered, nervous to admit to the prince that you had no idea how to dance. “I have never danced before.”
“Is that all? No worries, love. Just follow my lead. I’ve got you.”
And he did, your feet barely touching the floor, feeling as if you were floating on a cloud, the two of you appearing in perfect harmony. It couldn’t be further from the truth as you hadn’t the foggiest idea what you were doing, simply holding onto his hand and allowing him to guide you. His hand on your waist moved you easily and it felt as if the whole world stood still, a scene from a storybook. 
You knew you should take in this moment, the elegance of the palace, the beauty of the movement of the dancers, the melodies and rhythm of the music. But you couldn’t. The only thing you were taking in was the man in front of you. His face was a poem that you wished to memorize and hold close to your heart every day as you resided alone in your cottage. His hands warming your skin, like the touch of sunlight on a cold winter’s day. His voice, a soothing lullaby you wished to hear every night as you slipped into slumber. 
You danced, song after song playing, but you couldn’t have said how many there were, so lost in this moment, this beautiful man. You couldn’t even hear the notes as you brain was flooded with only him. He never released you, never moved to dance with anyone else, keeping a hold on you as if you were the most precious thing in his world. 
You knew it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. You were nobody, an outcast, a blight, the shame of your mother who had looked upon your face and found it impossible to love you. He was a prince, the future king, royalty. Why would he ever settle for you when he could have a princess? A maiden who wore beautiful clothes and perfect skin because they never had to toil a day in the sunlight. You could not understand why he was choosing to spend his time with you but you knew it was temporary, fleeting, a moment to savor because it would never come again. 
The last notes of the song played and Joseph stepped back from you. You inhaled sharply, assuming this was the end of your time with him. You should be grateful you had any at all but instead were left with a feeling of melancholy that this was all you had. A few songs, a few dances, a few stolen moments of his time. 
“Come with me,” he urged, pulling on your hand. 
“Where?” you asked in surprise.
“Does it matter?” Joseph’s eyes twinkled mischievously. 
No. It did not. You would follow him into the very fires of hell if it meant even one more minute of his time. Nodding your assent, you allowed him to lead you through the throngs of dancers, not missing the harsh glares you received from the females. They were clearly angry that you were monopolizing his time, reducing their chances of being chosen to be the next queen. And perhaps it was selfish because it would never be you.
The two of you raced down hallways, your eyes barely able to take in the magnificence that surrounded you as he hurried you away from the festivities. The marble, bronze, and glass blurred past you until he stopped before two massive doors with large, golden handles. Releasing your hand, he grabbed onto both, shoving them open. 
You gasped, booths hand clutching your chest, as you took in the sanctuary of knowledge. The walls were lined with shelves of books. Moonlight filtered through the windows, illuminating the books that adorned them, spilling across the rich woodwork. The fragrance of leather and old paper filled your nostrils and with it, filling your soul with a sense of peace. You had stepped into a world of beauty and history. To have access to this many books would be an absolute dream.
Books were your magical escape from reality, the only one you had. When you could get your hands on a book, and it wasn’t often, your only means was the one friend you had in the village, the librarian who would deliver you two at a time, you would dive in. You would escape into the pages of another world, the dismal and dreary landscape of your life fading into the background for as long as there were pages left. 
“This is…”
“Isn’t it?” Joseph asked, whirling around, arms spread as wide as the smile on his face. “This is the one space in the castle where I can find solitude, where I can pretend, for just a little while, that I am not the prince. I am not responsible to anyone. No one’s opinions of me matter. I don’t need to put on airs or pretend to be something I’m not. I can find something real, something tangible, in these pages.”
Your head tilted as you took in his words. How ludicrous that the two of you, who could not be more different, who came from entirely different worlds, used the pages of a book for the same thing. You both looked for a distraction from your lives but for very different reasons. You tired of the loneliness while he tired of being surrounded by people. You were exhausted from your uneventful life while he was exhausted from the endless events he must attend. But both of you were trying to escape other’s opinions, their views on who you were and who you should be simply because of who you were born to.
And wasn’t that what it all came down to? The only reason you lived in the woods, in poverty, in a cottage that was barely standing and he resides in a great palace was because of who your parents were. He’d done nothing to deserve any of this magnificence and you’d done nothing to deserve the humble life you led. It simply was because that was how society deemed it to be.
Anger trickled up your spine as you really thought about the situation. Here was this man who had everything. He’d never gone hungry. He’s probably used the word starving multiple times over the course of his life without having any understanding of what that word meant. He’d never wrapped himself in whatever threadbare linens he could find to fight back the bitter cold of winter. He’d never been beaten or spit on or called vile names because of something he’d had absolutely no control over. Yet, here he was complaining about his life.
Your fingers trailed over the spines of the books as you strolled along, observing him, “I cannot imagine your life to be so awful that you need to escape. Look at everything you have.”
“Ahh, yes. I am sure I sound like some pompous, spoiled, little brat complaining about my glorious life,” he sighed with a dramatic flourish of his hands. “But this? This is a prison, my darling. A prison intricately disguised as a palace. Do you know what I would give to have the freedoms that you have?”
“Freedom?” you snorted with derision, shaking your head. “If by freedom you mean living in squalor with no running water or electricity. Growing my own food in the hopes to have enough to make it through the winter. Freezing because I happened to find shelter in an abandoned cottage with no heat where the wind comes right through the windows in their rotting frames. Yes, freedom to hide out and never show my face in the village because I can’t bear to see the dirty looks and hear the vile remarks one more time.”
Joseph moved toward you, three long strides and he was right in front of you. So close that you could see the way the light glimmered in those chocolate eyes. Two full lips pursed with interest at your statement and you could have kicked yourself for allowing him to cause you to reveal more than you wished. This could have been one beautiful night where you were some mystery girl but instead you’d allowed your emotions to get the better of you and ruined it. 
His hand, skin so soft because the man had never known a day of hard work in his life cradled the side of your face. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing it slowly, and a shiver raced along your spine at the simple contact. Your eyes fluttered closed, an incessant pulsing between your thighs, your body wanting more. 
“Tell me, what vile things could anyone have to say about such a beautiful creature?” he whispered, warm breath caressing the shell of your ear. 
“I…I…I was left on the doorstep of the orphanage as a child,” you rasped, struggling against the pull of him. So close you could reach out, pull him to you, and find out exactly what those luscious lips tasted like. “I was…mistreated, which is putting it nicely, my entire life until I turned eighteen and I could escape. The villagers say I am a bastard, unwanted, unloved. They say something must be wrong with me if my own mother couldn’t stand the sight of me. I was never going to be anything but trash in their eyes so I fled.”
“Fled where?” Joseph’s words fanned over your lips, the scent of mint and champagne invading your head. His hand slid down, resting against the side of your neck, warm and comforting as he stepped forward, pressing you back against the bookshelves.
You were horrified when a small whimper passed your own lips, “The woods. I found…I found a cottage, abandoned, in the woods. That’s where I live.”
“A cottage in the woods?” mused Joseph, tilting his head, the tip of his nose bumping against yours. “That sounds secluded, private, and absolutely wonderful.”
“If you don’t mind freezing and having to bathe in the lake, then sure.”
“Mmm…are you often nude in the lake?” he asked, eyes moving along the length of your body.
“When I need to wash, yes,” you replied with a small laugh. “It is out of necessity and let me tell you, you wouldn’t want to smell me when the lake freezes over.”
Joseph inhaled, nose moving through your hair, “I rather think you smell divine.”
“It’s summer and one has to be presentable when attending an event at the palace,” you stammered, hands pressing into the leather spines of the books behind you. 
“My darling, you smell more than presentable.” His words a rumble through his chest that you could feel against your own, his body pressed against you, pinning you between him and the books. “You smell delicious enough to eat.”
“I…this…pardon, my prince, but this is inappropriate, is it not? You are meant to be married and I…”
But you were what? You were not a virtuous woman and certainly no virgin. Your loneliness and desperation to matter to someone, anyone, had led you to make more mistakes than you cared to admit. Clandestine encounters with men who wanted the thrill of having the outcast, the unwanted, but didn’t want anyone to know. Dashing out after, leaving you feeling empty and alone, disgusted with yourself for being so desperate for an ounce of affection that you allowed yourself to be used.
“If you are going to be my betrothed, what would be inappropriate about it?” Joseph challenged, the backs of his fingers running over your cheek, lips featherlight over your jaw. 
“Betrothed? You can’t mean…”
“Oh, I very much do.” Those fingers followed the column of your throat, over your collarbone, stopping just above the neckline of your dress. “I have met more ladies than I care to count and you are, by far, the most interesting one.”
“But I…I’m just…I’m nobody. I’m not fit for a palace. I am no princess. I am just…”
“Just fascinating? Just courageous? Just fearless? Just resourceful? Just captivating? Just the absolutely most beautiful woman I have ever seen?”
“My prince…”
“Joseph, love. Just Joseph, please.” His thumb settled on her bottom lip, pulling it down gently. “I need to hear my name coming from this pretty mouth.”
“Joseph…” you breathed, relishing in the feel of those two syllables on your tongue, in the way his lips curved into a smile, his forehead pressing against yours. 
“My name is a song when you say it.” Fingers on the straps of your dress, grasping the thin material, slowly dragging it down off your shoulders. “I want to make you say it again and again.”
You knew you should stop him. His words were pretty but you’d heard pretty words before. Words were easy. Men threw them around as if they meant nothing, as if they didn’t burrow deep into your soul, leaving you with hope that this moment actually meant something only to be burned when it didn’t. 
But when his lips pressed against your shoulder, taking their time to savor each and every inch of skin while his fingers pulled on the thick fabric, slowly exposing more. Your fingers curled, finding nothing to hold onto, lost in the feel of that mouth on your flesh. When his lips latched around your nipple, you keened, back arching, hand grabbing onto the back of his head. 
Those curls were just as soft as they looked. Your fingers slid through them, holding him against you as heat pooled in your center. Maybe they were just pretty words but he was writing sonnets on your flesh with his lips and suddenly it didn’t matter if he meant a single word or not. You were desperate for more, for there to be no barrier between the two of you.
You grabbed onto the lapel of his burgundy velvet jacket, pulling it down off his arms. He rose up, large hands grabbing onto your face and finally his lips collided with yours. They were just as delectable as you’d imagine. 
Your fingers deftly unbuttoned his white collared shirt, pushing it over his shoulders and onto the floor. And then your hands were on him, exploring every inch of his chest and stomach, moaning softly when your fingers brushed over the soft trail of hair that led into his black slacks. 
Joseph’s hands were on your thighs, lifting, dragging you up his body until your legs were wrapped around his waist, your arms locked around his neck. Fingers pressed into your skin as they moved around to grip your ass. 
Dragging your lips from his, you kissed along his jaw, enjoying the way the soft scruff there tickled your chin. When you flattened your tongue, pulling it up the side of his throat, your center ached with need at the groan it drew out of him. Confidence filling you, you latched onto the tender skin there, sucking gently. 
“Bloody hell, love,” he rasped. 
Then you were slipping down his body and he was yanking the rest of your dress off impatiently. Suddenly needing nothing to keep you from feeling him, every part of him, completely, you hurriedly undid his pants. You pushed them down as he shook one leg and then the other before stepping out of them. 
And then time stopped, the rush over, as you both stood there, taking in the sight of each other’s bodies. You sucked in a breath, your eyes roaming over every inch. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 
“My god, you are goddamn exquisite,” Joseph growled, stepping into you, fingers tangling in your hair as he walked backward until he hit a chaise lounge. 
He sat down, lifting both hands, beckoning you forward with his fingers. But when you went to move he shook his head, twirling his finger to indicate that you should turn around. You obeyed, his fingers digging into your hips as he guided you backward. You spread your legs, hovering over him before slowly lowering yourself. 
Joseph held his cock and you covered him, sucking in air as each inch of him filled you until he was nestled within you, his balls pressing against your ass. You heard him hiss from behind you as you both stilled, relishing the feel of your warmth surrounding him, him stretching you completely.
“You feel like bloody heaven,” he murmured, lips pressing against your shoulder, hands cupping your breasts, thumbs dragging over your nipples. 
“Joseph,” you whimpered, hips rocking forward and backward. 
“Yes darling, say my name,” he urged, one hand moving between your breasts, along your stomach, and down between your legs. 
“Joseph,” you groaned, collapsing back against him. 
“Yes. Again.”
“Joseph…Joseph…oh my god, Joseph…”
His fingers worked your clit, tremors of pleasure shaking your body. Your hands wrapped around his arms as you rolled your hips over him, each forward movement sending him deeper within you. Gasps fell from your mouth as the pleasure built up within you, a pressure cooker ready to burst. 
“Come for me, love. Come for me and scream my name.”
“Scream…but…people…I…”
“Let them hear,” Joseph growled against your ear, his tongue darting out to trace the shell. “Then everyone will know that I have chosen. Consider it our royal announcement of our engagement. I have claimed you. You’re mine.”
He kept saying that but would he feel the same once the fog of passion had dissipated? Once he’d gotten a taste, would he want it again or would he desire to try another flavor? If you screamed and everyone heard, you could only imagine the things they would say. You would forever cement your place as the village trash.
But damn if he didn’t feel good. Those fingers played you like the cellist played the waltz earlier, expertly, without missing a beat. Your hips circled him and you cried out, back arching as he hit a space within you that you didn’t even know existed, a space that sent not just shockwaves but full on earthquakes knocking down any sense of reserve that you had. 
“Joseph…oh…shit…oh my god…Joseph!” you screamed, losing all control as an orgasm with the power of the big bang itself shook you to your very core. Your entire body shook, sounds releasing from within you that didn’t seem human.
“Yes darling. That’s it. Come all over my cock. Fuck,” he groaned, taking over, hands gripping your hips as he thrust up into you. “Jesus Christ, you feel so perfect. You are so…fuck!”
His release painted your walls as he held you tightly against him, his cock pulsing within you. Your nails dig into his thighs as your own trembled, slowly coming down. Your body melted into his, oozing like spilled ice cream into the cracks of a sidewalk on a hot summer day. 
“Mmm…” he murmured against your ear, planting kisses to your cheek and jaw as his hands trailed lazily up your stomach, over your breasts, one moving to grip your chin and tilt your face back toward his. His lips captured yours in a sweet, gentle kiss, so opposite from the passion fueled one from earlier but still just as delicious. 
You smiled lazily, “So, does that engagement talk usually get girls to agree to go to bed with you?”
“What do you mean talk?”
“You know,” you laughed, trying to act as if it didn’t matter, as if in the short time since you’d met he hadn’t invaded your body and nestled within you, leaving you wanting more. “You’re the prince. I’m sure you don’t have any trouble getting ladies but I mean, a promise to be the future queen is going to guarantee a sure thing.”
“Love, I was not just talking about anything. I am serious. You are the most intriguing, delightful, breath of fresh air. You are the first woman that makes me want to come back for more. More of this.” His hand slid through your slick, brushing over your throbbing core. A rumbling laugh rattled his chest at your squeak. “But also more of this.” His lips pressed against yours once again. “And definitely more of this.” His finger gently tapped the side of your head. “Intelligent, interesting conversation is in short supply these days. I want someone who will challenge me, who will push me, who will make me think beyond the walls of this palace. And that’s you. I knew it from the moment you walked in. Every other girl who walked in here looked straight at the throne, searching for their prize, me. And not because they are interested in me but because they are interested in what being with me gets them. You didn’t. You walked in and looked around and your face, yes you were in awe, but you also looked a bit put off by the whole thing. You never even searched for me. You didn’t look like you’d come here tonight for me. You looked like you only came because you were forced to and would rather be anywhere else.”
“You’re right. I didn’t want to come,” you admitted. “The royal courier told me I would be hanged for treason if I didn’t. And since I do value my life and my neck, it seemed the smart decision to come. I did not search for you because I never even entertained the thought that I would be your future bride. I figured I would come, eat, perhaps enjoy a few dances, and then disappear back into the woods.”
“But what if you didn’t have to disappear? What if you could stand proudly in front of every single one of those awful people who dared to judge you for who your parents were, for the hand that life dealt you? The girl they cast out chosen to lead them?”
“I…but this isn’t me. I don’t even know how to be like you. Joseph, I spend my days working. I don’t know how to do my hair. It’s always just pulled back and out of my face. And I never do make-up. I have no need when no one ever sees me. I dig in the dirt and I fetch water and I chop wood for my fire. I am dirty and wearing rags most of the time. I feel I would embarrass you.”
“No, my darling. You would shine. You would be everything this village needs. You know what our people need. You could guide me, be my right hand…woman. And as far as your hair or make-up, we have people to help with that.”
Your lips pressed together, worrying back and forth as you considered his offer. This man wanted you. He wanted to stay. He wasn’t rushing to dress and dashing out like the others. He didn’t just want you. He wanted you to be his wife, to lead beside him. Could you give up your life of solitude? Could you wear fine clothes and learn to be prim and proper like all those other ladies?
“I don’t know if I could learn to be royalty. What if I sit wrong? Or what if I say something wrong? What if you realize you made a massive mistake choosing me? Or what if…”
Joseph fingers grabbed your lips, pinching them closed, “What if this is everything we ever wanted? What if you stopped worrying about what could go wrong and just focused on what’s right?”
“What’s right?”
“Us.”
“How can you know that? We just met.”
Joseph smiled, tipping you back onto chaise, his hands coming down to hold himself up as he hovered over top of you. Those lips were on the move again, igniting a fire within you all over again. 
“Because I felt more for you in the moment I saw your face than I have for any other woman. Because sex has always been one and done for me. I experienced it and it was fun but then I was ready to move on but with you, I want more. I want to explore everything with you, find out what you like…” Teeth pulled at your nipple and you bit down on your lip. “Find out what drives you crazy, what makes your toes curl, and then do that over and over again.”
“I think you’ve already done that…” you whimpered, his tongue tracing lazy circles now.
“Mmm…but darling, I haven’t even started. If you only knew the sinful thoughts that are monopolizing my brain right now. I want to make you happy, to give you everything you deserve.” He pushed himself up, brown eyes gazing into yours. “Marry me.”
You cradled the face of this beautiful man, your prince charming, and said the only word you could, “Yes.”
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alleykatart · 1 month
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"I love you, my Sky. Let me show you how much." - Kieran, The Cursed Heart, Book 2.
My OC Sky (they/them), and the beautiful Prince of the Moon Court, Kieran. I've truly, truly been looking forward to every new chapter, and while I'm excited for Immortal Desires, Book 2... I'm going to miss Kieran and Sky's relationship quite a bit while we wait for the (hopeful) book 3.
I tried a bunch of different looks for Sky, wanting to capture their androgyny, their delicacy, but also their strength in a way that PB's sprite options just doesn't allow currently (though I do love the Body 2 looks in both books for the most part, I use m!Asian/Body 2/Face 1 MC's for my playthrough but...) and ended up buying a new hairstyle just for Kieran. ✨
The beautiful background is from here.
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alexa-santi-author · 1 year
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Oh, hey, the anthology I’m in is having a Black Friday sale! This is the one that includes my award-winning novella “Impossible Tasks.”
(And, yeah, I used my favorite celebrity couple as my models for the leads. 😊)
BLACK FRIDAY SALE!
16 Stories for 99 Cents!
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09QLNWY1Y
Under Your Spell:
Your favorite fairy tales … with a twist. What happens when you can’t choose between Prince Charming and the Dragon? What if Goldilocks really wanted to stay? Was the Big Bad Wolf really that bad?
Sixteen titillating stories from USA Today best-selling and award-winning romance authors in a spicy collection curated by The New Romance Café. HEA guaranteed.
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superchlorine · 1 year
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goatober 2022 ✦ 29 fairytale prompt list by @foolofabookwyrm-activated
a fairytale romance 💞
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cptsd-skywalker · 2 years
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Hey! Thoughts on Anakin/Padme (thru a trauma-informed perspective)? Currently thinking of this myself... I'm not Anisoka (unless it's an AU where the power dynamic is shifted/she's older,) but I do think that their relationship in TCW is infinitely more healing for his trauma recovery than Anidala.
Oh Boy This is Gonna Be Long, Strap In:
Padme’s first interactions with Anakin bother me a bit, but I’m not of the mind that she’s pedophillic or anything like that. I do think she has grown up privileged and from a place of power that renders her incapable of understanding Anakins feelings towards her as a potential savior and this makes her understanding of Anakin limited. She calls him a slave right from the first, not by his name . She never asks his name. He quickly snaps “ I’m a person my name is Anakin”, which is very significant to me. She sees Anakin first and foremost as beneath her in their social rank/hierarchy. It seems like a small thing but I think that in reality it sets up an immediate power imbalance, one she recognizes and participates in. Don’t get me wrong, not saying that Padme is pro slavery or even a bad person in the general. I think she does care, but I don’t think she sees Anakin as a person and more as a statistic and thus point or as an example. She has the undifferentiated affection for him as she does all pitiful souls in the galaxy. Problem is that this small kindness of the barest acknowledgement of himself is enough for Anakin to place her on the highest of pedestals. Padme is a great person in terms of diplomacy, but this is a pedestal that I believe she embraces to the detriment of their relationship.
When Padme first meets Anakin in AOTC, he pays her courtly compliments, shy and clearly ennamoured with her. What does she do? She humiliates him in front of his superior and brings up his past as a slave on tatooine. At best this is a rude oversight and at worst an attempt to knock him down a peg for his brazen attraction. The problem I have isn’t that she rejected him, but that she recalled his littleness and his life as a slave to do this. This furthers the feelings he has of inferiority in comparison to her. Again during his stint as a security detail she reminds him of his padawan status but in front of many other senators loudly so everyone hears. Why humiliate him? He’s doing his best. He’s doing his job. I’m not saying she abusive, just that she recognizes a power imbalance in her favor and isn’t afraid to use it against him when it suits her. This is a huge problem for a boy who already sees himself as beneath her. I don’t think there can be equality in their relationship even though there is love because of this imbalance. They don’t really see each other as real people. She is his “Madonna” ideal of courtly love and he is her “knight in shining armor” and any time either of them steps out of this ideal they fall apart in anger with one another. Anakin clearly wants to leave the order but Padme doesn’t want Anakin to stop being her knight, Padme wants her romantic hero and Anakin can’t stand it when Padme shows any moral ambiguity. They needed to see each other on the ground level and fall in love with that. I think they are too much in love with the dream of one another, and perhaps too critical when that dream falls short of the ideal for them.
In short, it would only have continued to work on a basic level with kids after the war with some deep diving into themselves and a revaluation of the power dynamics between them. If it did, then it would stand a chance.
@synapticjive
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brightwitchbrews · 10 months
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Autumn Wilds ~ 4 of 4 ✨
I want to find a secret path amongst forests of coral and mysteries 🧚
🎨 Prints | 📖 Fairytale
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necrosystem · 4 months
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I want to have someone outside of the body that I'm super close to. Like we live at each others houses, mutually pay bills, etc. But our relationship is also maybe transient?
As in idc if we're friends today or married tomorrow and strangers next week, we love each other. And like as long as we know we'll always be there for each other, it's okay.
I want them to love all of my sysmates equally and individually. I want them to love our autism, and I want them to love our trauma, and our anger.
I want them to love all the things that's broken with me so I can love all the things that's broken about them.
I need to love the brokenness of another person outside of my body. I need to admire all the ways my loved one defends themself and know they trust me and feel safe enough with me.
I need to sit through insomnia with someone, RPing, talking, learning, living with someone and feeling totally secure with them to talk about our deepest darkest feelings.
I need to lay with someone, thankful for the warmth we need to soothe our bones.
Actually, 3-5 people who all mesh that closely together is ideal. But if divine beings are in short supply, I'll take one.
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hecatesdelights · 2 months
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Love knows no reason, no boundaries, no distance. It has a sole intention of bringing people together to a time called forever - H. H. Fowler, Love Knows No Bounds
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ladynightshade30 · 1 year
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My book Red, a paranormal romance book based off the fairytale Little Red Riding Hood, was reviewed in a blog.
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vosveti · 6 months
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Art for a swan lake retelling I’m working on :)
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seahagart · 8 months
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Childhood enemies to lovers: Hobbit edition
They are both very messy and hate each other but in a 'i will go out of my way to insult them aka see them' way
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ekbelsher · 4 months
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How many ways can I draw this couple kissing? I found a ton of these while putting together my 2023 artvsartist grid. Way more than what's here, but these are the ones that I like, that have no background, and won't get me banned on social media haha
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blairwolfwerewolf · 12 days
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Remember these two? Still a toymaker and forest spirit tho they look a little different.
Away from your ancient forest spirit for a whole week and he starts to get fussy.
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alexa-santi-author · 1 year
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If you want to read some thinly-veiled Tom/Loki and Zawe fanfic in respectable Kindle book form, I gotchu, fam, for the low price of $2.99 AND! It includes a host of fairytale retellings from my fellow anthology authors as well.
The Blurb:
To Lady Mirade, it seems a simple task: abduct the sorcerer son of her clan’s greatest enemy and persuade him to teach her the magic she needs to defend her family and her keep. She never expects her greatest battle to be against the forbidden desire that burns between them.
The Lord Sorcerer Lorien’s task is to escape and return to his own clan so they can resume their feud. But even as he remains Mirade’s prisoner, he finds himself enchanted by her determination and passion to protect her people.
As they grow ever closer, finding a way to resolve the feud so they can be together may prove to be the most impossible task of all.
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