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florencemtrash · 2 days

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical graphic depictions

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You were running on coffee and willpower, and both were in short supply. You cradled what you promised would be your last cup in your hands, feeling your fried nerves inch closer to bursting into flames with every bitter sip.

Azriel had one arm looped protectively around your waist, propping you up against his side like an overworked bookend. You both sat huddled over the map you’d spent the last day and night laboring over until you could picture every stark line pressed behind shuttered eyelids like an afterimage. Until your cramped hands shook while clutching the mug like a vice.

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian similarly hovered over the innocuous sheet of paper. Pale parchment glow flickering over expressions of intense thought.

You traced the outline of the lake, its form vaguely star shaped and pointing abstractly towards the north, south, east, and west.

“Here.” You tapped the northeast edge where a greyed out huddle of shapes formed the forest and a collection of scribbles marked the Death god’s home close to the waters. The lines swirled in your mind like a thousand snakes locked in battle, swallowing each other whole and getting eaten alive in an endless, vicious cycle.

Koschei’s portion of the continent lay flat and unassuming, seemingly vulnerable with the flatlands peering at his back with limitless entry points for enemies from the Continent. But the seductive ease of access through that region was a guise. Koschei was a death god, and a powerful one at that. Magic grew in and out of the soil there and what walked those woods had a strange habit of toeing the line between life and death.

The western corners swam in seas of grasslands, flat and open and unprotected save for the expanse of water a mile wide.

And the lake. The lake was the most curious thing of all. A black shape on paper, still and foreboding.

You knew from Andrian’s memories that enchanted swans flocked there — women layered with curses that kept them bound to the region in animal form — but nothing else. No creatures floundered in the salty dark. No animals came to drink from it as if they could sense the power that tainted it with decay.

“The boundaries of the Koschei’s power lie somewhere along here.” You pointed to the lazy line sketched down. “But I wouldn’t trust it. When Andrian was first sent off from the lake he crossed the plains towards one of the harbor towns on the coast and he felt that Koschei’s influence scaled with the distance away from the source of his power.”

“Any weak points? Places we could slip in unnoticed?” Feyre’s eyes scanned the page, reimagining your weak swirls of ink into something more layered. Something with more meaning that could only come about from the mind of an artist and a warrior.

You pointed to one of the star points and then to another toward the south. “Here and here. Don’t ask me how and don’t ask me why but these are the only two blind spots. Andrian used to sneak away from Koschei’s house to these two places.”

“To do what?” Cassian asked. He lumbered towards the back of the war room, easily peering over everyone’s shoulders to the flattened parchment and eyeing the wooden pieces strewn across the map, his own piece being tipped with a glistening red stone.

“To plan his escape.”

A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

The boy had never succeeded.

Feyre’s lips flattened to a pale line, the air around her reverberating with heat as the temperature in the room rose — a drop of Autumn’s power magnified. She nodded to the second map, this one gathered from Azriel’s contacts on the Continent. Whereas your map had laid out Koschei’s land in detail, Azriel’s was suspiciously empty where the lake was concerned. The two fit together like puzzle pieces. “What’s the nearest harbor town?”

“Tournnes.” Azriel replied without needing to look down. You’d memorized one map, he’d memorized the other. “It’s a small fishing village located twenty-three miles to the southwest. Most of the inhabitants are men that come and go with the season and travel west from Slairn and Friesieg. It will be empty this time of year.” The fish would have gone south in search of warmer waters. Even here the Sidra had turned frigid, crusts of ice lapping up against grey sand shores.

Cassian shook his head, examining the map with a scowl. “There’s poor coverage getting from Tournnes to Koschei. And an abandoned town’s too obvious a place to hide any soldiers. It’d be better to come in from the east, through the woods.”

“Then we’d need to take the long way around Koschei’s territory.” Lucien argued back, “Our soldiers would need to trek through foreign lands for weeks and we’d lose any advantage Tarquin could give us by staying close to the coast.”

“You can’t trust those woods,” you gasped, your eyes flashing with fear that didn’t wholly belong to you.

Never enter those woods. Henna had once warned her Andrian. Never. Do you understand me?

Azriel tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips into your hair to brush against your ear. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.

It was a heavy burden carrying the memories of others. Like a weight tied around your belly that hadn’t been properly woven into flesh. Something both part and apart from you. And you’d been feeling too many of Andrian’s memories in the past week since his death.

Silence flung itself over growing irritation and anxiety as everyone circled back to the same conclusion.

They wouldn’t be able to bring their armies abroad. And with limited numbers, brute strength would only go so far when forced to bring a fight to a foreign land against a foreign god. This would be decided by few. It would be as intimate as lovers. As ruthless as enemies.

“There’s still the other plan.” Nesta reminded them, glancing first at Feyre and you with the faintest of nods.

“I hate that plan, Nes.” Cassian gripped the back of her wing-backed chair and she reached up to take his hand in her own. She looked like a queen in her own right — harsh, pragmatic, unwavering. And he her mirror — a roguish knight, rough and wild and raw.

“I know. Unfortunately for you, it’s the best one we’ve got.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” Mor said with a sigh, rubbing her temples to alleviate the ache there. “We’re asking for a blood bath one way or the other.”

“Ione is still with us.” Rhys squeezed his cousin’s knee. “Without her, he can be killed.”

“But for how long, Rhys? How long until he finds someone else? Some other way?”

The question hung in the air like an ax ready to fall. An invisible clock ticking its way towards doom. Koschei had read the book’s contents. He had to know the secret to freeing himself was sheltered in Ione’s veins. So long as she was alive and breathing she was a threat as much as she was a tantalizing prize for him to tear his teeth into.

Feyre’s fingernails clicked on the glossy tabletop, eyes narrowed in on that splash of black on paper. Through the golden string tied to her lower ribs, she felt the tug of her mate’s silent agreement. Her eyes flickered upward for a brief moment, as if she could see through the layers of the House to the skies above. “For as long as we have Ione, we have the upper hand. But we can’t rely on it forever.” She looked at you, “ We go with the first plan. It will have to be enough.”

You shivered.

Four years ago, when the Day Court had first opened its borders to foreigners from other Courts, you’d encountered a male in the market. He’d been young and reckless and glamoured himself to live amongst the humans for six months. In that time, he’d learned their version of magic — the sleight of hand tricks and elaborate games of misdirection humans played on one another. Caped entertainers bedazzling crowds with obvious moves, while the real work happened just out of frame.

You thought of him now. You pictured him in the marketplace as he made a hand-painted playing card disappear from his hand into the fold of his suit jacket, only to reappear under an overturned teacup.

Yes.

It would have to be enough.

The crisp blade flashed in the dull light as you moved your feet back and forth in a practiced dance.

Left, left, right, duck, keep your wrist straight and slice up. Just like Azriel had instructed you. He stood off the narrow mat, hazel eyes tracing every slow movement of yours with a critical gaze.

“Practice makes permanence.” He’d reminded you earlier. “Get it right first, then we’ll worry about speed.”

Magic hovered over the House of Wind’s training gym, warping the air like a soap bubble as it shielded you from the frigid rain. Even so, the scent of petrichor and the cleanliness of frosted wind hung close to warn of the storm churning its way down from the north, carrying with it the promise of rainfall or the first true flakes of snow.

How poetic that winter should come with death chasing its heels while you were learning a dozen ways to kill a man.

“Here.” Azriel took your wrist in a loose grip, arching your arm and sticking the point of the knife into the training dummy’s jugular. Hay crinkled and burst out from the burlap covering instead of blood and you stepped away, locating the points in the liver, the lungs, the heart, the throat, under the arms, and more. Gruesome things made digestible by the motionless, fake body propped up on wooden poles.

You didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like for your blade to meet flesh.

Your arms ached. Hot, unfamiliar stretches of muscle trembling while slick with sweat. You could taste salt on your tongue as Azriel repeated himself.

“Be precise. Be quick if you can. Then run like hell.”

Incapacitation and speed. Those were the only two things you could rely on if things went south on the Continent.

Precise. Quick. Run.

“Emphasis on run,” You muttered beneath your breath. You adjusted your feet to match Azriel’s stance, feeling the strength of his muscles close to your body and imagining some of that power seeping into the ground for you to drink up.

The corner of his mouth twitched, then rose in a smile. “Exactly.” He stepped in, hands twisting your hips to be straight and then drifting up to your wrist. “Too much.” He corrected your bones with a feather-light touch. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

It should have been romantic. Him touching you like this with his front pressed against your back and his breath sliding over your skin as he taught you to wield a knife. Instead his insides churned relentlessly. Visions of you, blood-splattered and motionless on the ground, flashed through his mind. He’d be damned if he let that happen again.

You practiced on him next. Blunt, stone knife gripped in your hands as he moved in slow-motion. Azriel must have had everything custom made for you. The balance felt right in your hands, the movement as fluid as your awkward limbs could manage.

You clasped a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him forward as you swung up.

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the stone wedged itself into his ribs.

You locked eyes with him and saw his pupils blown wide as a doe’s. “Good.” He murmured. “Again.”

On and on you went for hours, Azriel’s panic fueling the training he put you through, as if he could fit a hundred years of combat into a handful of hours.

You grunted when Azriel easily flipped you over onto your back, a scarred hand catching the nape of your neck so your head wouldn’t slam into the floor. The knife slipped out from your sweaty fingers, skittering away and disappearing beneath one of the weapons racks along the wall. You breathed heavily beneath him, feeling the grit of the ground and the sweat sliding into your hair and the leather brushing your chest with every breath he took.

In a real fight, Azriel would have killed you a thousand times over and he knew it. There was not a single moment where you could have saved yourself.

You saw the tell tale flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw before he gritted his teeth and swore beneath his breath.

You felt shame seep into your stomach again. “Az—”

“I want you to take my memories,” he said. “Everything I’ve learned over 500 years.”

Metal whispered against leather as a tendril of shadow retrieved the knife and slid it into the thigh sheath Azriel had tied around your legs only hours ago. It felt strange to have such an unfamiliar weight against your thighs. To know that only leather kept the wicked blade from slicing you to the bone.

“We’ve been over this before, Azriel. I can take however many memories I want from you until I can picture every way to take down an enemy in my mind’s eye. But that doesn’t mean my body will obey or follow through correctly. Knowing things mentally isn’t the same thing as knowing things physically.”

Azriel huffed in frustration, dropping one hand to your waist like he often did and gripping the flesh there to ground him.

“If we had more time—”

“When this is over we’ll have more time.”

If I make it.

Because if there was anyone who would survive what was to come. It was Azriel. And you could find a great deal of comfort in that.

Azriel must have read your doubt because his eyes hardened and his hands came up to cup your jaw. “We will have more time. We’ll have time for everything, do you understand me?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll travel the Courts. I’ll take you dancing and—”

“You’ll teach me a dozen new ways to kill someone?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I start keeping a tally?”

“If that would help, then yes.” He dipped his head down, kissing you firmly on the lips, the taste salty and warm to the touch. Kissing you came easy now. Touches were a comforting drug he craved daily.

“If things go wrong—” He whispered, flicking a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Promise me you’ll find me.”

You blinked up at him, tracing fragments of gold in his eyes.

“Find you,” you echoed, your voice tinged with sadness. “You’re not going to convince me to run?”

He laughed bitterly. “I know you too well, my love. You wouldn’t listen even if I did. If anything, it would make you want to stay and fight even more, just to prove me wrong.“ “Then is this some reverse psychology? You tell me the opposite of what you want, so I end up doing what you intended all along?”

“You’re thinking too deeply about this.” He slid his arms around the small of your back, dropping his weight until you were flush against him. Until you could feel his heart beating beneath his skin in time to yours. “Find me, so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.”

You caressed his cheek, the coarse bandages he’d wound around your wrists and knuckles scratching the skin of his jaw and the faint stubble that had grown there over sleepless nights. “I promise I’ll find you, Azriel. We’re better together anyways.”

He could never disagree with you. He lifted you back onto your feet, kissing your forehead. “Three more drills, then we’ll be done for the day.”

He made you run five. The bastard.

You’d dreamed of what might come. Nightmares filled with glassy-eyed children and skeletal forests where the dead roamed free. A black lake with stones of bleached bone to fill your lungs and choke the life out of you.

You wanted to make Azriel proud. You wanted to be the kind of warrior who could match him physically, not just mentally. The kind of female he’d never have to worry about protecting in that way. But violence had never been beaten into your bones and you could only hope that the skills you did possess would see you through to the end.

You and Azriel would make it. You’d all make it.

Some way.

Somehow.

Then there would be time for everything you had ever wanted and everything you’d never had the courage to ask for.

You woke up to a world shivering beneath a dusting of snow. Frost creeped up the windowsill, trying to slither inside before the House’s magic burned it away. A grey, ashen sky hung low over the mountains, mist blowing over and gathering in valleys until they were transformed into pools of smoke.

So this is it. You thought wearily, tasting the change in the air. Winter’s finally here to choke the world into submission.

You burrowed further under Azriel’s wings, chasing the heat that rolled off his skin. When you looked up at his eyes they were already trained on the weather, some similar tangle of thoughts running through his mind that had his grip around your waist tightening.

“The other death gods. Have you met any of them, Az?” You whispered your question into the hollow of his neck, feeling the blood rushing beneath your lips until he answered.

“I’ve met a fair few. The Bone Carver, Stryga, and Bryaxis joined our side in the final battle against Hybern and Nesta was equivalent in power when she first emerged from the Cauldron.”

“Nesta?” You asked questionably.

She was a collection of sharp edges wrapped in silk and cunning, but a death god?

Azriel smiled ever so slightly. “You didn’t know her then, but she was a terror to behold. You could feel her presence in a room like a knife in your back or a flame licking at your heels so hold it starts to freeze. Only Cassian was foolish and lovestruck enough to approach her at the time.”

You tried to imagine it — Cassian’s wild, borderline arrogant mannerisms going toe-to-toe against Nesta’s magnified sharp grace. “That sounds about right.”

“Feyre knows the most about the death gods. Has come face to face with the most. Rhys sent her into the Weaver’s cabin to retrieve her engagement ring — don’t give me that look, my love, I don’t understand it either — and she’s the one who convinced The Bone Carver and Bryaxis to fight for us.”

“Feyre has a penchant for endearing herself to monsters.”

Azriel smirked, pearly teeth flashing. “You have no idea.” Then he said something that stuck with you. “The Bone Carver was especially close to her.”

Anytime the Bone Carver — Thanatos — was mentioned, you could only think of Bethsevah. The one person who had ever looked upon his true face and never flinched.

“How so?”

Shadows swarmed around his ears, as much a sign of his thinking as it was a sign that whispers beyond your own understanding were reaching him.

“When Feyre met with the Bone Carver, he made a bargain that he’d only fight for her if she could descend into the Court of Nightmares and bring back an enchanted mirror without going mad. Feyre said she saw her true form when she looked into her reflection, and that it was only by accepting this form that she was able to keep the madness at bay. The Bone Carver was impressed with her and pledged his loyalty to her from then on.” Azriel shook his head, wings flaring out in another sign of his thinking. “It never made sense to me why a being like him would even make that bargain to begin with.”

“Even death gods can be surprised. We should consider ourselves lucky.”

“It wasn’t just that though. I was watching when he died. He… he turned his face up to the field at Feyre and he smiled at her. It felt like a bittersweet ending to a story I didn’t know. Like he was saying goodbye to more than just this world.”

You draped your arm over his chest, tracing the black ink swirling across his chest and over his shoulders like ocean waves. The Bone Carver was more myth than legend to the few fae that had known of his existence and you knew with each passing century his story would be steadily wiped from the earth like wind shaving down stone. His name would become a whisper. His story, and Beth’s, a tragedy for no one but the stars to weep to.

But you were still here, and your time with Bethsevah’s book had left you with no small amount of fondness for him. For now you would still be able to whisper his true name.

“Thanatos.” You said. “He loved this world and the people in it. He sacrificed his life for it. I think he had many things he wanted to say goodbye to.”

“To Thanatos then.” Azriel raised an invisible cup towards the ceiling of his bedroom, silk sheets sliding down his arms.

“To Thanatos,” you echoed.

You eventually went through the morning motions together —Azriel helped lace up the back of your dress, and you buttoned up his shirts, careful to avoid the fragile membrane of his wings as you stood at his back.

He tugged you away from the bedroom door at the last moment, your questioning eyes softening when he cradled your face in his hands and stole one last kiss in the privacy of your room, murmuring "Beautiful," against the crown of your freshly brushed hair.

"Do the others know you're such a hopeless romantic?" You asked, finally opening the door and breaking the spell of privacy.

Before Azriel could answer, Cassian blew past the room, shockingly quiet for his mountainous size. "Yes, we all know," he shouted before disappearing down the hall.

Ione stood proud and tall in front of the windows, grey eyes narrowed at the Sidra as it wound through the valley like a snake. Cassian slid into the space beside her and handed her her cane. She knew instinctively where the warrior stood and where his hand reached out towards her. She took the cane without the second glance. A golden lion’s head roared from atop its wooden post, Ione’s fingers resting squarely between its glistening teeth as she leaned experimentally on the new device. Cassian had ordered it custom for her and she knew that hidden within the sleeve of glistening redwood was an iron rod forged in enchanted flames that rendered it near unbreakable.

“Careful.” She reminded Cassian when she caught him staring for too long. “This body may be different, but I can still bring you to your knees.”

Cassian chuckled, “I don’t doubt that.”

She slammed the cane against the ground once. Twice. Testing its strength and finding it worthy. “Do you think it will happen soon?”

This waiting — it was beginning to grate on her nerves. This foreboding calm that threatened to fall away into chaos and bloodshed. She almost wished she were living three years into the future, when she was finally done healing from her wounds and the future had faded into the background of her life once more.

“If I could see into the future, I would not be here right now waiting.”

“And yet here we are.” Ione sighed, shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath a wrinkled but slender neck.

Cassian would have said more had Feyre and Rhys not entered the room together, bruises layered beneath their eyes as they plastered on bright smiles for their family, tension visible through the cracks in their porcelain teeth.

The Inner Circle had assembled in their entirety at the request of their High Lord and High Lady. There was no holiday to be celebrated. No birthdays or anniversaries or special occasions. The fare that had been laid out on the table was simple and everyone filled their plates before spilling out across the sofas and the armchairs or carving out a space on one of Rhysand’s expensive hand-woven rugs. There would be no special meal around the new table devoid of scratches and watermarks and the passage of time and love. This was their family, and for their family it was the company that put finery to shame.

Elain was a flutter of movement in and out of the kitchen, shepherding pots of tea and fruit tarts before Lucien finally caught her around the waist and made her rest. The House was equally restless. The lights strung above the fireplace mantle flickered like lantern flies.

Mor sat with Emerie’s wings draped around her shoulders like a cape and Gwyn sat on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rested her head against the Illyrian female’s knee. To no one’s surprise, you and Azriel clung to the corner of the room, content to watch everyone’s laughter with your arm subtly looped around his.

He still hasn’t told her, I see. Emerie noted, watching your smile stretch into place when Azriel leaned close to whisper in your ear.

Does it matter? Mor teased, kissing Emerie’s nose reverently. The Illyrian’s cheeks turned warm. Emerie had not been granted the freedom to explore romance to the same degree as Mor, something she’d worried about when they first started their courtship. But if anyone asked the blonde, she’d tell them it drove her wild to see how such simple gestures could reduce the fearsome warrior to a puddle, even now. Mor tucked herself into Emerie’s side, throwing her long legs over the armrest. It’s probably a good thing. If they could speak to each other like this, we’d never hear from them again.

Emerie laughed into Mor’s golden hair.

Conversations rose and fell. Plates emptied and clicked as they were laid out on the coffee table.

It was a simple peace they welcomed with open arms.

They didn’t hear the faintest thud coming from above their heads.

You smiled when one of Azriel’s shadows wove themselves into your hair, tickling the sensitive skin behind your ear and along your neck.

“Sorry,” Azriel whispered, trying and failing to draw them back to him for the nth time that day. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” They’d been especially touchy as of late, nipping at your heels like a litter of puppies vying for attention or hiding in your pockets. It was a mixture of Azriel’s own feelings that spurred them on and their own desire to protect what they’d claimed as theirs.

“It’s alright, Azriel. I like having them around.”

They hummed amongst themselves, happy to see you so pleased. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if you’d be able to learn to listen to them as well. To tease apart that secret language he couldn’t begin to describe.

Maybe you were listening to them now without even realizing it.

Maybe that’s why you and Azriel were the only ones whose eyes snapped towards the hallway before the first creak of wood sounded throughout the House.

The shuffling of a new, unfamiliar set of feet down the stairs had the hair on the back of your neck rising and crackling with energy.

It wasn’t Jurian. It wasn’t loud enough to be Jurian. He so rarely descended from the attic that he made a habit of making his presence known, tired feet shuffling along the rugged staircase with measured drags.

You walked over to your brother and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Jurian—”

“That’s not Jurian.” Lucien said with bated breath. He was the third person in the room to hear the sound.

He’d checked on his friends less than a handful of hours ago. Jurian had been as he always was — weary but hopeful as one hand had clenched the bundle of morphine and the other had leaned against the food cart Lucien had carried up to the top floor.

And Vassa… Vassa had been uncharacteristically quiet, slouching against the wall of her gilded cage, raw skin and thin feathers trembling with her haggard breath as she slept.

“You should come down.” Lucien had said. “You deserve a break.”

But Jurian had only shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “As much as I would love to bless you with my presence, I won’t leave her like this. But one day, my friend, we’ll both walk down those steps together and have a proper celebration. I promise you.”

Vassa came down the steps.

Alone.

Naked.

Shivering.

You eyed the window where the mid-afternoon sun beat down on a frosted city.

It was the middle of the day… and Vassa was human.

You clutched Lucien’s arm, fingernails digging through his cotton shirt before he could take another step forward. Silence suffocated the room. There was something deeply wrong with the cursed queen. She trembled like a newborn fawn unceremoniously dumped into the world, her skin puckered and pock-marked from where she’d picked at old scabs and opened new wounds. The whole array hung from bones so thin they may as well have belonged to a bird.

“Vassa…” Lucien’s voice broke on her name.

A path of bloody feathers trailed behind her.

She grasped at strands of her fiery red hair and tugged. Hard. You focused all your energy on keeping the food in your stomach when strands fell through her bloody fingers and saliva rose in your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien. I can’t… It won’t stop.” Her voice, which had once been beautiful, grated your ears. “My skin. It feels like I’m crawling out of it.”

“Vassa.” Lucien held out his hands, showing her they were empty. “Where’s Jurian?” He would come down. He would help her in ways only he was capable of.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Where’s Jurian?”

At the second mention of her lover’s name, Vassa broke down crying. Fat, ugly tears streaking down tan cheeks that had turned sallow and grey. She wiped them away, fingers dripping. There was a deep, unyielding hunger evident in every stutter of her body as her eyes raked across the room. You flinched when those milky, teal eyes passed over you… and landed on Ione.

Elderly, painfully human, Ione.

Vassa’s left eye twitched and Azriel had only enough time to tackle you to the ground and cover your body with his own before the mortal queen burst into flames.

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Author's Note:

^^ Visual depiction of how I've felt the last week like what in the world? I'm getting enough sleep I swear but every morning I feel like I'm dragging a two ton boulder behind me until I get a sip of that bitter goodness. Ugh. Hope y'all are resting better than I am.

Anyways, I know it's been a while since I posted, but the chapter is here! Whoop! And I hope you enjoyed :) As always, feedback is appreciated and welcome if you have burning things you need to get off your chest (doesn't even have to be SSIB-related honestly my inbox is there).

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst

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meangirls-imagines · 3 days

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Coachella Diaries

Description: Reader works for WWE and gets hurt during Wrestlemania, causing her to go on a months long break. She goes to Coachella Weekend 2 to support her girl.

WARNINGS: fluffy as shit, slightly suggestive at the end, reneechella (bc that's a warning itself)

Y/N stepped (as best as she could) off the plane and sighed at the California sun hitting her body.

Her body was exhausted. Wrestlemania was the 6th and 7th, she performed both nights and unfortunately had torn a couple of ligaments in her foot. She worked through the pain and helped make Wrestlemania record breaking. She had gotten surgery on the 16th, which meant she unfortunately missed the first weekend of her girlfriend playing Coachella.

Reneè was also understandably upset, not at Y/N, but at the fact that her girlfriend had to get surgery and she couldn't be there. Luckily for Reneè, Y/N had her fellow superstars keep the blonde updated. The doctor had cleared Y/N for travel on the 18th and she landed in LAX on the morning of the 19th.

Towa had been the one to help Y/N plan this out, picking her up from the airport. The musician smiled as Y/N hobbled towards her with her bag. "There's my favorite cripple! How's the foot?" Y/N smiled and hugged the girl. "It's definitely injured. I'll be out for a minute but honestly, I'm not mad, I need a break."

Towa laughed. "Ain't that the truth? If I have to hear Reneè freak out about every bump you take, I might've gone crazy." Y/N blushed. Reneè was always very protective of Y/N, not that her profession helped with that. The blonde loved and hated watching Y/N do her thing. Yes, Y/N looked hot but if Y/N had to take another spear from Roman Reigns or a stomp to the chest from Finn Balor, Reneè was going to commit murder.

This new era of WWE meant the return of inter-gender wrestling, with Y/N leading the charge. She had become the inaugural WWE World Heavyweight Champion, holding it for 316 days. She had been a part of the two biggest main events of Wrestlemania history, which is where she tore the ligaments in her foot. Never the less, she persisted and opened the next night of Mania, unfortunately she lost her title but the ovation she got when she got backstage was worth it.

She was thrilled to help Cody finish his story but also was happy that she could get a break. She saw the doctor who gave her the diagnosis and what doctor to see and she was on her way.

She had messaged Towa the night she found out and set the surprise up.

As the two ventured out of the airport, they caught up with each other, Towa informing Y/N of her love life and what not. The two reached the SUV and began the drive from the airport to the AirBnB they were renting for the festival. During the two hour car ride, Y/N had told Towa about some backstage drama happening as the Brit ate it up.

After 2 and a half hours, they finally made it to the house. Adam had been standing outside, waiting for them as they pulled up. The man helped Y/N out of the car and gave her a hug. "There's my favorite former champ! Congrats on the run. It was a rollercoaster." Y/N smiled and hugged the man back. "Thanks Adam! It was definitely a rollercoaster! A fun one though! So, where is my girl?"

Adam laughed. "She's out in the back with everyone else, they're pregaming before we go. Are you sure you can handle going out?" Y/N nodded. "I slept on the plane ride here. Perks of using the company jet." Adam nodded as Towa met up with them, handing Y/N her bag. The trio headed inside.

Adam and Towa headed to the back to distract everyone while Y/N slipped into the room Reneè was staying in. She took in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Reneè. God, she missed it so much. She changed quickly, putting on the custom "Reneèchella made me gay" shirt and some shorts before getting the message from Towa to make her appearance.

She grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out to the backyard. The group all did a "cheers" before taking the shots provided for them. Y/N decided to speak up. "Do I get a shot too?"

Everyone turned towards the new voice but no one turned quicker than Reneè. The blonde stood shocked at the sight of her girlfriend, boot and all, standing in front of her. "Holy fuck! Reneè ran to where Y/N was standing and hugged the girl tightly. Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's head. "Hey superstar. I've missed you." Everyone was aww-ing at the scene, some clapping.

Reneè pulled away from the hug and pressed her lips to Y/N's, kissing her for the first time in weeks. The group cheered as the two kissed, causing Reneè to slip them off. After a minute, the two pulled away and Reneè began to scratch the back of Y/N's neck. "You're really here!" Y/N smiled and kissed her nose. "I am. Now I think it's time to have some fun." Reneè smiled and pulled Y/N over to her friends.

The group was watching Chappell Roan absolutely kill it when fans began to notice the couple being all cute.

@y/nisthechamp: GUYS! I'M AT COACHELLA WATCHING THE QUEEN CHAPPELL ROAN AND RENEÈ AND Y/N ARE LITERALLY 10 FEET AWAY FROM ME AND THEY ARE SO CUTE!! Y/N IS HUGGING RENEÈ FROM BEHIND AND THEY ARE SINGING AND DANCING!!

@/reneerappslut23: guys. i just saw a video of reneè and y/n all cozy at coachella and my heart 🥺

@y/nfan123: just saw a video of reneè grinding on y/n while they were watching t-pain. don't know who i wanna be more...

@/reneefan253: guys. reneè cannot keep her hands off y/n. she's always rubbing her back or the back of her head or her shoulder. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!

The group made their way back to the house, all breaking off to their respective rooms, sleepily exchanging good nights. Reneè and Y/N made their way to Reneè's room. The two flopped on the bed, Reneè snuggling into Y/N's side. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait for you to see me perform." Y/N kissed the blonde's forehead. "Me too baby."

The next day was a lot of the same, more musicians sets, more drinking, etc. Sunday came a lot faster than Y/N expected and she found herself sitting in Reneè's trailer with her, the girl getting ready for her set. Reneè was looking on her phone as her hairstylist finished up her look. Y/N decided to take a stealthy picture and post it on her insta with the caption "coachella ready", tagging Reneè.

Comments started flooding in immediately. One that stood out to Y/N was from her not older sister Liv Morgan.

@/yaonlylivvonce: We are so excited to see her!! Drinks after?

Y/N smiled and responded to the girl. Adam poked his head in and informed Reneè she had five minutes. The blonde thanked him, took a deep breath and pulled Y/N with her to the wings of the stage. To Y/N and Reneè's surprise, Alyah was waiting for them. Reneè squealed, wrapping Alyah in a tight hug. Y/N smiled at the pair and took a picture of them hugging. Alyah pulled away and hugged Y/N too, scolding her about her injury and how she should've been more careful.

Reneè saved Y/N by pulling her away from Alyah, wrapping her arms around Y/N's waist and burying her face in her neck. Y/N rubbed the blonde's back. "You're gonna do amazing out there Reneè. Please remember to drink water though. Don't need you passing out on stage." Reneè chuckled as she heard her intro being played.

"Well, I guess that's me." Reneè pulled her head out of Y/N's neck, leaning up for a kiss. "I love you." Y/N smiled and pecked Reneè's lips. "I love you more. Now go kill it." And with a playful smack on the butt, Reneè went out on stage.

"Tasted the blood in my mouth, and left you there to bleed out.."

Y/N being there must have flipped a switch in Reneè because the girl was putting on a SHOW. Y/N had to keep herself from drooling watching her girlfriend do what she loved. Y/N's fav part do far had to be the Willow ass shake. For scientific reasons, of course. Y/N saw Towa getting her in-ears put in and grabbing her guitar. "Go kill it out there, Birdie." Towa winked playfully at Y/N and went out on her cue from the blonde.

The two were soon joined by Coco Jones as they performed "Tummy Hurts". Y/N smiled at hoe happy her girl looked. Watching Reneè perform was Y/N's favorite thing to do. She loved how confident Reneè was on stage and how carefree she looked.

After a beautiful rendition of "Snow Angel", Reneè gave her thanks to the crowd and jogged off stage. One of the crew guys poured a little bit of water on the back of Renee's neck, to cool her off, as the girl walked straight into Y/N's open arms, almost collapsing in the embrace.

"Fuck Reneè, I'm so fucking proud of you, superstar." Reneè blushed and hid her face in Y/N's neck. "I couldn't have done it without you here." Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's temple. "You did it last weekend." Reneè pulled away from Y/N's neck and smiled at her. "Yeah, but it wasn't as fun." Y/N rolled her eyes and kissed Reneè, unaware of Towa taking a picture of them.

Everyone praised Reneè and her performance before they walked back to the area where her trailer was. Alyah spoke up. "So, what's the plan now?" Reneè smirked and looked at Y/N. "Well, Y/N and I are going to go back to the house to...catch up and we'll meet you guys later?" Towa and Alyah shared a knowing look before nodding and going to watch another set.

Y/N looked at Reneè confused. "Catch up?" The blonde nodded. "Mhhm. I'm planning on reclaiming my favorite seat..." Y/N caught on and blushed, allowing the blonde to pull her to the car waiting for them.

Yeah, Towa and Alyah would be fine on their own for a while...

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp imagine #renee rapp

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certifiedbueckethead · 21 hours

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horror film 🎞️ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

paige bueckers x horror movie fan!reader

warnings: public sex, fingering

word count: 2.1k

a/n: hey <3 this was a request, I hope I wrote this to your liking :) please let me know if you have any other requests <3

readers pov:

For months you’ve seen trailers and you’ve gotten super excited for the release of the film, "Smile". You knew Paige can barely sit through Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, so even asking her to see an actual horror film wasn’t something you were planning on doing.

After straightening your long dark hair and putting on a simple, comfy outfit consisting of one of short, black cropped tank top and a pair of sweatpants you walk out of your room to your living room of your shared dorm. You shared it with Paige and a few of her teammates, so when you walk into the room it’s filled with voices and laughter. Paige, who is sitting on the couch glances up from her phone and gives you a warm smile. She gets up and walks over to you and brings your hips closer to you. “Hi there, pretty.”, she says, grinning widely. “Hi there Paigey”, you reply, pecking her lips. She places a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling you closer to her in her arms. “What's up my sweet girl, you going out? Your hair is so nice.”, she says, reaching up to play with it.

You debate telling her where you’re going because you’re afraid that she’ll want to come along and you didn’t want her to get scared. But, you couldn’t lie to save your life. “Just going to see a movie.”, you say, hugging her back. “Oh which one, let me get changed and we can go together, no need to go alone.”, she says, pulling away from you to go get changed. “P, it’s a horror film, it’s okay you don’t have to come, I just really wanted to see it, I don’t mind going alone.”, you say, in a reassuring tone. Paige turns around to face you and blinks a few times, you can tell she is trying to decide if she wants to come in her head. “Uhm, maybe we could see something else that’s not too scary you know, horror films have bad acting and it’s just really lame.”, she says, clearly wanting to spend the evening with you.

KK shouts out from the couch, “AWE IS PAIGE AFRAID??”, giggling, very much trying to rile her up. Azzi joins in and decides to tease her as well, “It’s okay Paige if you’re scared, we can put some cocomelon on until Y/n get’s back.”, she jokes. Paige, competitive as she is, refuted back, “No I know the film is scary, I don’t want her getting scared you know.”, she says, crossing her arms. You laugh to yourself, you know her well enough but you decide to see how far she’ll go.

Paige gets ready and you both head out, you driving in case the movie really shakes her up. You’ve seen reviews on the film since it came out a few days ago and you know it’s pretty terrifying. You stop at the nearest bulk barn, running in for a minute while leaving Paige in the car - as much as she tries to convince you to let her go in, you know she’ll take her sweet time. You get a few of her favorite snacks and put them in your bag so you can sneak it into the movie theater. Let’s be real, movie theater food is overpriced, and as a college student you weren’t willing to drop $100 knowing that you and Paige love your snacks.

You drive over to the theater and Paige gets a blanket that she had put in the backseat to bring in and a plushie. She’s absolutely adorable, and you both know she is scared but you don’t mention it. It was clear enough she didn’t want to damage her ego in front of her teammates over a simple movie. She reaches for your hand as you walk towards the building, and you squeeze her hand to reassure her. “Paigey, I got some snacks for us and I got the tickets while I waited for you to change so all we have to do is scan.”, you tell her and she hums in response, probably nervous.

The movie starts and you both sit in the back corner, away from most of everyone else. It’s semi packed, which isn’t surprising because it’s a bit later in the evening on a weekday, people have work or school in the morning so you were glad it wasn’t too packed.

The usual movie advertisements start to play and you pass Paige her snacks, seeing her wrapped in the blanket she brought, shoes off and had taken advantage of the fact that the armrest could move up and she had her feet on your lap. She’s scrolling through her phone, still nervous and you decide to say something. “Paigey, come on you don’t have to sit through this, you won’t be able to sleep through the night.”, you tell her, concerned. She shakes her head, not taking her eyes off her phone. You feel your phone buzz a few times, and she’s going through your highlights on instagram and reliking all the photos in them. How cute.

The movie begins and Paige is okay, until it starts to pick up. She had moved her feet off of you and was curled into a ball, hiding her face under the blanket. You set a hand on her knee, to give her a bit of comfort. A few jump scares later, she is hiding her head in your shoulder and you feel her body shaking a bit. You laugh, she chose this for herself but let her confidence overtake her. You rub her back gently, and the movie is about halfway finished when she looks genuinely terrified.

“Paige, okay come here.”, you stand up and grab her shoes, leaving the rest of your stuff on the seats. To your dismay, those damn theater chairs flip up when you get up, suffocating all of your stuff. Paige, finding this funny giggles a bit, and you are glad that she took her mind off the film for a moment. You take her hand and lead her out of the screening room and to the bathroom. Once you both find an empty stall you go into it together and you pull her into your arms. “Paige.”, is all you say as she clings to you, and you rock side to side. It was a wholesome moment for the both of you, you usually don’t see her like this - but the fact that people are flushing the toilets around you slightly ruined it.

You peck both of her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and then her lips and you can tell she is already feeling a bit better. “We don’t have to finish the film lovely, I can grab our stuff and we can go, would you like that?”, you suggest and Paige returns with a nod, staring at the floor. “No honey, it’s okay don’t be upset okay? I swear, I can see this film another time.”, you tell her, looking her in her pretty eyes to make sure she understands. She clears her throat, “Can I.”, she pauses and looks up to you. “Can I make it up to you perhaps, I don’t know it doesn’t sit right that you had to miss your movie so at least let me make it up to you.”, she tells you and you cup her cheeks. “No sweetheart, you don’t have to worry about anything okay?”, you tell her, not knowing what she was even referring to. Before you know it, she's getting down on her knees and playing with the strings on your sweatpants. Looking up at you for your approval, you pause. “Paige really, it’s alright.”, you try to reason with her, you didn’t want to force her to do something especially when she was just having a rough time. “It’ll take my mind off the movie mamas, I like seeing my pretty girl get weak under my touch and I like tasting you. It’s so much more sweet than the candy.”, she says, whispering.

Considering that you were talking pretty normally beforehand in the washroom , you are surprised she decided to speak quieter, but it would be pretty embarrassing to get caught like this. You agree with her, and let her do her thing.

Paige pulls down your sweatpants, letting them pool at your feet. She gently grabs your hips, pushing your back against the stall. She begins to run her hands against your now naked thighs, and you shiver. How is it April and the air conditioning is on like it is mid-July? Paige lifts your tank top up just over your belly button and places warm kisses against you. Suddenly, all that you need is her touch. She makes her way to your underwear, plays with the pastel pink lace and lovingly runs her tongue against your clothed clit. You feel yourself shiver a bit and she reaches for your hand, holding it softly. She uses her other hand to slide down your lace underwear, pooling at your feet along with your sweatpants now. She takes this as an opportunity to slide a finger between your folds, feeling the pool of wetness that occurred to all of her gentle advances. Her lips meet your clit, and you feel yourself buck your hips due to the lack of touch. You and Paige haven’t fucked in a while, it’s been hard since all of your roommates are in the off season and all enjoy rotting in the house. Every time you tried something, you were always interrupted. So this, this is what you need.

Paige begins to suck slowly on your clit, and you use the hand that isn’t holding her’s to cover your mouth to quiet yourself. You are starting to feel glad that she didn’t listen to you earlier when you had told her she didn’t have to do this. You let yourself unravel under her touch, you let her do her work as she makes you closer and closer to finishing, dipping her tongue into you whilst looking up at you, in your eyes. You could barely take it, she was doing so well. You loved being talked through it, but this was different. The fact that anyone could catch on and figure out what the two of you was driving you over the edge. Paige has switched from using her tongue in you, to curling 3 fingers into your dripping wet cunt. You start to panic and the wet noises become too loud, but you couldn’t control it - it was all of her doing. Paige, no longer looking distressed like she did earlier, looked so hot. Cheeks flushed pink, hair in a messy ponytail so it didn’t get in her way and her lips glistening with your wetness. The two of you couldn’t help smiling at each other as you were reaching your high.

You feel yourself getting closer and you finally get that familiar feeling in your stomach as Paige is slowly fucking you with her long fingers. Her nails are fairly short, but since it has been a while they’ve grown out a bit more than usual and you could feel them inside you and it felt absolutely heavenly. You needed to cum, you had to, it's been too long since the last time you had the chance to. You grip her hand and try to move it away, you were going to be loud no matter how hard you tried. Paige, looking back at you, took out her fingers, and finished you off with her tongue. Before you knew it, you had finished on her face and gasp left your lips. Paige had the most goofy grin on her face, knowing that she was able to do this for you.

You finally calmed down and reached down for some toilet paper, and cleaned her face for her and she helped you pull up your bottoms, and when she finally stood she kissed you. It was so loving, not as needy as she had made you earlier. “Paigey, you did so well.”, you tell her, rubbing her nose against her’s. You feel her smile against your lips when you kiss her again, and she holds your hand as you leave the stall to retrieve your stuff.

You both end up giggling, seeing everyone leaving the screening room, knowing the movie was over. Paige calls out from behind you, as you are walking up the steps to get your stuff, ‘Please ma, don’t tell the team I got scared, it’ll make me look weak.”. You continue to giggle and pick up your stuff. “Sure P, whatever you say.”, you tell her, while passing her the blanket. “Maybe you should take Azzi and KK next time to see a horror film, because if I tag along, I will be expecting us to do this again mamas”, Paige says, poking your waist. You playfully push her and shake your head, “You know, that may not be a bad idea P.”

#paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader

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technicallyvivi · 1 day

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NSFW WARNING!

wooyoung shower sex

its a cold day in the middle of december, you and wooyoung were on vacation and planned to go eat some korean barbecue with your friends mingi and jongho, who were waiting in their hotel room for you guys. you took your clothes out setting them on the bed so you could change into them later. “woo!” you called and his head popped out from the living room, he walked over and wrapped his hands around your waist. “yes princess, what do you need?” he asked getting a smile out of you. “do you want me to grab your clothes too?” he shook his head staring intently at your lips, “are you even listening?” he shook his head again kissing your neck softly, nibbling the skin under your ear. he moves his kisses up and smiles. “how about we take that shower together?” you roll your eyes but comply anyways and take his hand to lead him into the bathroom. its almost like no time had passed and you were both bare and pressed up against each other making out. wooyoung bit your bottom lip for entry but you pulled back, before he could protest you got into the shower and turned the water on, signaling him to join you. he hopped in and pushed you against the shower wall, you kissed him gently and pulled away. “make it quick.” he scoffed “i make the rules here angel. ill take however long i want.” his words make you feel small, vulnerable, and god do they make you wet. your pussy clenches around nothing as you start feeling more and more desperate, kissing isnt enough. “woo, p-please.” you beg holding onto his neck. he laughs “tell me what you want baby, use that pretty mouth of yours.” you close your thighs to rub them together hoping that itll relieve you to some extent. “in me.” you manage to say but hes already flipping you on your back and going in, raw. you grip onto nothing trying to steady yourself on the wall, its a miracle hes holding onto your hips tightly or you wouldve fallen. you whimper spreading your legs more and more until it almost hurts. “shh.. one second, let yourself adjust.” he says rubbing small circles on your hips and kissing down your back as he bottoms out. “ah..! f-fuck.” you exclaim when you feel him twitch inside you. “sorry pretty, tell me when youre ready.” you can tell hes trying to hold back. even though you cant see him you can imagine his eyebrows being furrowed as he tries to focus and not ram into you. “ready.” you say and with no hesitation he pulls out until just the tip is inside you, and pushes back in with forces making you bounce into the wall but he pushes your hips back onto him and starts building up a rhythm, your eyes tear up and its already getting too much even thought he just started. “i.. ah!! woo!” you moan trembling in his hands. “you’re taking me so good yeah? being such a good girl just for me to use you however i want.” you nod frantically letting him control you fully, his groans and grunts fill your head and everything feels foggy. “j-just for fuck! just for you!” you cry out holding onto the wall for support. he takes your hands and puts them behind your back, you already feel the knot in your stomach and he can tell, you clench tightly around him almost pushing him out, he hisses. “shit baby dont do that.” he holds you closer ramming into you faster and harder “mm so warm.” he grunts. and that’s when you hear it. the door opens and you panic trying to get up but wooyoung hold you down still fucking you rough. mingi’s voice can be heard pretty loudly “y/n?” he asks and you plead for woo to stop so you dont embarrass yourself. “arent you gonna answer him baby?” your legs tremble harder, partly from how hard but slow he’s still going and partly from the anxiety of mingi walking in on wooyoung having you bent over in the shower. your voice shakes but you manage to speak as clearly as it is possible when you’re getting fucked. “u-uh ngh.. yeah?” you answer speaking just as loudly as he did. wooyoung intertwined his fingers through your hair speeding up his pace but not going as hard. you whimper and whisper “woo..” you hear mingis footsteps and his voice is suddenly closer.

“are you okay?” he asks “y-yeah.” you cant help but stutter, “ask him what he wants.” wooyoung demands and you know better than to disobey him. “what do uh! do you want?” you can sense that mingi knows he’s interrupting something, he knows you all too well, he also knows wooyoung too well, you’re starting to get frustrated, wooyoung isnt fast enough and you need to cum, your high is so close but its not enough. you whimper a little too loud so he covers your mouth “shut up baby, dont want him knowing whats happening do you?” you shake your head. but like you said, mingi knows something is wrong, so he just decides to leave. “um nothing, ill just wait till you get to jongho and i’s place” and just like that his footsteps start moving further and further away, and the door locks. wooyoung kisses the back of your neck, leaving his mark and going back to his animalistic pace. “good girl. you did so good.” he growls in your ear and you cant take it anymore, you scream his name as loud as you can not even giving him a warning just cumming all over his fat cock. “ah! ah! wooyoung!” your legs shake violently and you chant his name repeatedly. you swear you can feel yourself swallow some water since your mouth is open so wide in a silent moan. it only takes wooyoung a couple thrusts to grip your hips as hard as he can and cum deep inside you, you can see it dripping down your thighs. “fuck.” he groans letting you go, he cant hold on much longer, his strength and energy giving out. so you both fall to sit at the bottom of the tub. he pulls you closer washing the cum off your thighs as gently as he can. “youre the most beautiful girl you know that right? the best just for me.” he smiles holding you close and washing you off.

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everscorner · 12 hours

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Something In The Way You Move | The Redemption

Author’s note: I struggled writing this next instalment, and there was a lot of chopping and changing, so apologies for the late update. There’s one final part after this, and the plan is to have it out by mid-May. In terms of their apartment, this is how I pictured it but feel free to switch it up. This is only for fictional purposes only, but please don’t copy my work without my permission. Enjoy 🤎

Warnings: angst, fluff, suggestive/implied smut, bad language, couple reconciling, side chick confrontation, some relationship issues, minors DNI (let me know if I missed anything)

famous!Reader x Jude Bellingham Word count: 8k words

///

‘So, Bestie,’ Winnie starts, ‘what’s the plan? And how are we going to pull this off?’

That’s a good question: how will you break the big news to Jude? It’s been five torturous days since the positive pregnancy test and you’re yet to tell him about it. The timing just hasn’t been right, and the next bit’ll sound silly, but you’ve kept this from him because you don’t want to take the attention from him.

His first season at Real Madrid has exceeded all your wildest expectations, and you just wanted him to celebrate it all without detracting from it with the baby news.

Girlfriend of the Year, right?

‘To be honest, Wins, I haven’t thought about it.’

You’re standing in the kitchen waiting for the water in the kettle to boil and Winnie’s in the living room, her limbs stretched out on the sectional as she mindlessly browses through one of the coffee table books.

Your best friend’s in town for work, and earlier today, she actually filmed a couple of scenes with you for the show, and that’s when you told her about the pregnancy.

Off camera, of course. However, looking back at the moment, you regret not filming it.

Between filming your scenes, you quietly pulled Winnie to the side and showed her the sonogram you now carry around in your bag, and her reaction was exactly what you expected it to be and more. There was squealing, excited jumping, and there were lots and lots of tears shed between the two of you.

‘Okay, well, when do you plan to tell him?’

Tonight. You think enough time has passed and yesterday, you went to your first doctor’s appointment and confirmed that you were indeed pregnant, but despite your excitement, you kept the news from Jude because you wanted the announcement to be well thought out—special.

Also, there has been so much distance between you, you’re hoping that the baby news could be the catalyst to bring you two together because you kinda miss being close to him.

‘I’ll be honest with you, Y/N/N, that doesn’t give us much time to plan it.’

Winnie makes a good point, but you’re not looking for perfection, all that matters is that he knows.

‘Well,’ the kettle boils and you walk over to where it sits on the counter to grab it, ‘it depends on what we decide on.’

You start pouring the boiling liquid into the cups.

‘My only request is that we incorporate the sonogram.’

‘Wouldn’t it be cute if we could find a pair of infant football boots?’

It’s kinda cheesy—very cheesy, actually—but you like the idea. A lot.

‘Yeah, that’s a good idea. We’re getting somewhere with this.’

It’s almost hard to believe that you’re standing here, plotting out a way to tell Jude that you’re expecting.

If someone had come up to you the night you first met him and told you that in two years, you’d be standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment in Madrid, planning a pregnancy reveal, you would’ve called them a liar.

Excuse your French, but. . . ‘Holy fuck, Wins, I’m pregnant.’

It’s like it’s hitting you for the first time.

Winnie laughs, amused by your sudden realisation. ‘I can’t explain it, right? But it feels like a teen pregnancy.’

There’s no need for her to explain it further ‘cause you know exactly what she means. When you first saw the positive pregnancy test—you know, after your initial shock—you first panicked about how your family would react to the news.

You had to take a moment to stop and remind yourself that even though you’re still so young, you’re more than capable of raising this child.

With Jude’s assistance, of course.

‘Do you want to record it?’

‘Record what?’

You take the steaming mugs from the island and make your way over to the living room, where you place them onto the coffee table.

‘The moment you tell him. Not for Netflix,’ she clarifies, ‘but you know, home videos or whatever.’

Yeah, you’re definitely keeping this one in the family. Maybe if the show gets renewed for a second season. . . but you’re jumping the gun.

‘I want to, but’ you look around the ostentatiously decorated main living space ‘where can we put the camera? I don’t want him to see it.’

‘We’ll figure it out.’

Winnie’s composure is just what you need right now. You can always count on her to be calm in stressful situations.

‘Is your camera charged?’

You’ll have to check. It’s been some time since you last used it. Part of your job is that you’re a part time YouTuber, it’s something you dabble in because you like filming and editing. . . all that jazz, but lately, your channel has taken the backseat.

Why vlog this period of your life when they can catch it on Netflix when the show comes out?

‘Come,’ Winnie shifts to make space for you on the couch.

You take your seat next to her and by the time you settle, she’s already got her phone out, with her Pinterest open.

‘What’s that for?’

‘Well, something’s got to inspire us.’

Duh. It must be the pregnancy fog.

‘Don’t worry,’ she assures. ‘We’ve got this.’

And got this you do. A half hour and two cold teas later, there’s a plan, but this plan requires you to leave the house.

Booooo!

You’re not too keen on the impromptu outing, but there are baby football boots to be bought, and at least you’ll have Winnie there with you.

‘Well, that was easy.’

You beg to differ, but whatever.

Winnie locks her phone and sets it on the couch, ‘When’s The Boy coming home?’

You’re not sure when it started, but Winnie now refers to Jude as “The Boy” which you find to be endearing.

Probably late. He’s out with Toby and Noah, and he mentioned something about his other teammates joining them, but you weren’t really paying attention.

‘I’m not sure.’

And it’s not something you wish to discuss further because the thought fills you with dread. It’s been days since your discovery but given the circumstances, there has been no time to sit down and talk about Coralie.

The result of that is that whenever he goes out—and he’s been going out plenty to celebrate his victorious season—you can’t help but feel anxious that he might cheat on you again.

Surely this is no way to live.

‘But it doesn’t matter, does it?’ you rise off of the couch and start for the bedroom.

Naturally, Winnie’s trailing after you and you just know that this conversation is far from over. She’s persistent.

‘It doesn’t, but I think you should ask him.’

She makes it sound so simple. And you guess it is simple, he is your boyfriend after all, it’s your privilege to call or text him whenever and wherever.

‘We don’t want any surprises.’

You don’t, but if he does walk into something he’s not supposed to walk into, that’s all on him.

‘I don’t think it’s necessary, really.’

Inside the walk-in closet, you start stripping out of your house sweats to change into something appropriate. Once upon a time, you could leave your house in your house clothes without the fear of being pasted on the MailOnline and labelled “dowdy” and “unkempt”.

But that was a long time ago.

‘Oooh, what’s this?’

Winnie finds herself distracted by the Chloé box that’s sitting on the closet island.

‘Oh, yeah, that’s a PR box they sent me on Monday,’ you state matter-of-factly.

She opens it and gasps when she sees what’s inside the large box.

‘What the. . .’

‘It’s crazy, right?’

She turns to you in utter disbelief. ‘They gifted these to you?’

You hum.

She grunts and confesses, ‘I’m so jealous of you right now.’

Twelve full sized perfumes, all gifted to you by the brand.

You tell her to take a bottle, and of course, she’s over the moon. And it earns you the title of World’s Best Best Friend.

‘Well, I still think you should text him,’ she states as she tests the different scents.

And here you thought she had forgotten about that.

‘Just so we have an idea.’

You don’t really want to send the text, but you don’t want to raise any alarms with your friend. Lately, things between you and Jude have been far from perfect, but you’d prefer to keep your relationship problems from the world—even if it’s Winnie and she’s your best friend.

‘Yeah, alright.’

Your phone’s in the living room, so you have to leave the closet to grab it, and when you come back, Winnie’s discovered your new Chanel handbag—a gift from Jude.

‘He bought this for you?’

‘Yeah,’ but you’re not trying to make a big deal of it.

Jude bought the bag for you about a month ago. At the time, it seemed so random—his urge to buy such an expensive gift on a whim—, but after seeing those text messages, you know it was the guilt that made him do it.

‘Lucky bitch.’

‘I’ve been telling you to bag yourself a baller,’ you tease as you take your seat on one of the ottomans.

You: Hey, when are you coming back tonight?

You read over the text to make sure you’re not coming off as desperate. . . a nag. But whatever, the text needs to be sent, and the way he interprets it is up to him.

He doesn’t immediately respond, but you don’t expect him to. He never does when he’s out.

You take a final look in the mirror. You look so good, it’s almost hard to believe that the look was put together in ten minutes. And you’d take a picture to post on your story, but there’s no time for that now.

‘You ready, Wins?’

She smiles, ‘Ready.’

‘Alright then, let’s go.’

///

When he did finally respond to your text, Jude said that he’d try to be home by midnight, which gave you more than enough time to prepare for the reveal.

For her visit, Winnie will be staying at the apartment with you, but she’s gone out because she’s not pregnant and she’s actually got a life. However, she did help you set everything up for the reveal, which you appreciated because she came with all the good ideas.

Like she suggested that you do it in your closet as opposed to the kitchen, where you had initially planned to do it, because the lighting and acoustics were better.

And now it’s a little past eleven o’clock and you’re rewatching an old episode of your favourite series. Earlier in the night—after Winnie left—you filmed a night time routine vlog for your TikTok, which you should be working on editing, but can’t be bothered about.

Waiting for Jude to come home has reduced you to a ball of anxiety, and despite your eyelids getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute, you simply can’t make yourself fall asleep. However, one thing’s certain, no pregnancy reveal will be done tonight.

Damn him, and damn your feelings for him.

You can’t believe he’s once again ditched you for his friends this week. It’s disrespectful at this point, but the worst part?

You keep allowing him to get away with it.

But what can you do, leave him? As if that’s an option for you. The love you feel for him runs so deep, you can’t bring yourself to imagine a life without him in it, especially with the baby coming. So apologies to all the feminists of the world, but your love for this man surpasses all reasoning.

Your phone dings with a notification and you quickly grab it, hoping to find a text from him—you’ll take an incoherent drunken text at this point, anything—but instead it’s Winnie asking if he’s home yet.

Fuck.

You: Not yet, but soon :)

You hope.

She’ll never confront you about it, but you think that Winnie suspects that things aren’t good between you and Jude. The lack of calls and texts throughout the day was a dead giveaway. The two of you can’t get enough of each other, and even when you’re apart, you’re constantly updating each other one way or another so the silence was deafening.

But whatever, right?

People across the world experience relationship problems every day. You’re not the first couple to experience this, and you’re certainly not the last. You just wish that your relationship problems weren’t because he stepped out on you.

‘Babe?’

And now your mind’s playing tricks on you, because you swear you can hear him–

‘Y/N?’

Oh shit, he’s home!

You quickly reach for your phone to check the time: 11:26.

Fuck!

In the last text you sent him almost an hour ago now, you gave him strict instructions to text you before he left the club.

Guess he didn’t catch that text.

‘Baby?’ he calls for you again, but his voice sounds distant, so you figure you have enough time to do what it is that you have to do.

But you’ve got to move fast, so you clamber off of the bed, and scurry to your closet. You head straight to the camera, which you’ve carefully propped on your Louis Vuitton jewellery box, and switch it on to start recording.

This probably isn’t the best of angles, but so long as it captures his reaction, hopefully with his face in the frame.

‘Baaaaybeeee?’

His voice sounds closer now.

‘In the closet, babe,’ you finally call back, then internally brace yourself for what’s to follow.

With Jude, the plan was always to get married and have children, but the when was never discussed in detail.

‘Why are you hiding in here?’

Some of that anxiety leaves your body at the sight of him. He’s beaming at you, so visibly happy to see you.

‘Hiya.’

This man has seen you in all kinds of vulnerable situations, why are you so shy all of a sudden?

As he closes the distance between you, you notice that his eyes are kinda red and glossy, the only sign of his intoxication. When he reaches you, his smile widens—if that’s even possible—and he leans forward to connect your foreheads.

‘Hi, gorgeous.’

He smells of mint with the faint scent of alcohol, and a smell you can only describe as Jude on a night out.

With your eyes shut, you deeply inhale the comforting scent, happy to have him back home.

‘Hey, why are you hiding in here?’ he asks again, his words running into each other, the second sign.

‘Uh, ‘cause.’

You weren’t anticipating that question, and you don’t know how to answer it.

‘“‘Cause?”’ he chuckles.

You hum.

‘Come here,’ he envelops you in his large and strong arms, practically suffocating you but you can’t bring yourself to tell him to release you because you’ve missed his affection and the intimacy.

You fear you’re starting to sound like a broken record.

‘How was it?’

‘How was what?’

‘The club?’

‘Fine.’

And that’s all he’s willing to offer.

‘I thought you said Winnie was staying over?’

She is, she’s just gone to a party with the new guy she’s seeing.

‘And you didn’t join her?’

‘No.’

You give him a half-baked explanation for why you didn’t, but all you’re thinking is how this isn’t going the way you hoped for it to go. This isn’t what the other significant others did in the videos you watched earlier.

But how do you save it?

‘Why are you asking about her?’

‘Just curious, I guess.’

‘Alright then,’ you fist his jacket in your hand. ‘It’s good to have you back home.’

He likes that, you know that because his heart rate picks up. Things are still a bit awkward between you, but that’s to be expected since you haven’t been talking much.

With your arms around his neck, you press onto your toes and crane your neck to peck him on the lips. ‘And actually, babe, there’s something I want to show you.’

Jude tenses up at that, but it’s so subtle, if you weren’t in his arms, you would’ve missed it.

‘You do?’

And like magic, he’s sobered up. Only a bit though.

‘Don’t worry,’ you assure him, amused. ‘It’s nothing bad.’

Your assurance does nothing to ease his wound up body.

‘Jude, relax. . . please.’

Still tense. Whatever, you won’t dwell on his anxiety.

With a final peck to his lips, you step away from him and direct his attention to the island, where the football booties you went out to buy earlier are placed next to a toddler Real Madrid jersey, a positive pregnancy test—you took another one a couple of hours ago—and the sonogram.

‘Surprise,’ you say softly.

You want to sound excited, but it just comes out dejected.

You watch as he takes it in, your heart hammering against your chest. Unfortunately for you, you only have a view of his side profile but even from this angle, you can see that his usually expressive face is perfectly still. You can’t read him, and it feels like an eternity before he turns to face you.

‘Is this for real?’

You nod, the lump that has found a home in your throat making it hard to speak. Your vision’s also blurred, courtesy of the tears that have pooled in your eyes.

‘It is?’

The first tear falls.

‘Oh, baby.’

Jude lifts you into his arms and squeezes all the air from your lungs.

Man, he’s so strong.

Then he sort of holds you like that for a long time, and the next thing you know, your neck is damp.

‘Babe, are you. . are you crying?’

He denies it, but you can feel the damp spot grow with each passing second you’re in his arms. Oh goodness, he is.

‘I think you are.’

‘Shut up,’ he mutters, his voice muffled.

You giggle when he tickles you.

His reaction’s quite the relief and it feels like a ginormous load has been lifted off your shoulders. In terms of his reaction, you weren’t sure what to expect, but this is the best reaction possible, and as he holds you, all the lingering resentment about his past transgressions are forgotten.

Eventually, he sets you down to reveal his red rimmed eyes and similarly hued nose.

‘How far along are you?’

Seven weeks and three days today, according to your doctor. When Dr Hernandez told you, you couldn’t believe you were so far along and didn’t notice.

‘That’s what, almost two months?’

In defence of you though, between your work and Jude’s chaotic football schedule, you’ve been out of touch with your body.

‘Did you know?’

‘I suspected it.’ You tell him about the morning after that night when you noticed that your period was late. ‘I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to take the test first.’

‘And why didn’t you tell me after?’

‘I wanted the doctor to confirm it.’

You’ve grown so tired of standing, so you sit on the carpeted floor of the closet, and Jude joins you, pushing the ottoman to one side so that he can lean against the island.

‘I called Dr Morena who referred me to Dr Hernandez.’

He scowls, ‘Who’s that?’

‘My obstetrician.’

The scowl deepens.

You sigh, ‘The doctor who’ll care for me during the pregnancy.’

‘Oh.’ With his legs spread and stretched out before him, he pulls you into him and sets you between them. ‘And you said that Dr Morena referred you to this. . .’

‘Obstetrician.’

‘Yeah, that.’

You hum in agreement as you rest your back against his torso.

Dr Morena is your family GP.

There’s a silent beat then he asks, ‘So he knew before me?’

‘Winnie too,’ you turn your head so that you’re partially facing him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Winnie knew before me?’

The offence is evident in his voice.

‘I had to tell her,’ you defend, but this isn’t where you want to steer the conversation. ‘She helped me set this all up.’

He grunts.

‘Are you mad at me?’

‘Kinda.’

Well, now you feel bad.

‘I’m sorry,’ you sit up and turn to face him, maintaining eye contact as you explain, ‘Had I known it would’ve offended you, I wouldn’t have done it.’

But she was so integral in all of this, a part of you’s glad you did. . .

‘Oh, come on, Jude.’

He’s pouting, your big baby.

‘Cheer up, will you?’ you straddle him, cupping his face to gently stroke his cheek with your thumb. ‘I’m really sorry.’

It’s about another minute of silence and avoided eye contact, and you’re about to give up and on the verge of tears when:

‘Babe, I’m only messing with you.’

A quiet beat, then there’s relief, followed by loud laughter.

‘That wasn’t funny,’ you grouse, slapping him lightly on his chest. ‘I almost cried, you know.’

‘Come here,’ he pulls you into him.

The traces of alcohol still linger in his speech, but he’s significantly sobered up since he got home ten minutes ago.

‘I can’t believe you’re pregnant.’

And you can’t remember the last time Jude was this excited about something outside of football. His reaction almost makes you wish you had waited to share the news with him on his birthday, but that wouldn’t have worked because he’ll be in Germany then with the national team for the Euros.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘How the pill doesn’t work a hundred percent,’ you pull away.

But then again, with all the jet setting you’ve been doing, you probably weren’t taking it at the same time every day.

With a flash of his signature smile, he concurs.

‘My knees are starting to hurt,’ you announce as you move off of his lap and back to your previous spot between his legs.

Jude places a hand over your stomach, and with your hands over his larger ones, you move them lower to the pelvic area.

‘There.’

He chuckles. ‘You know, I always dreamed of being a young dad.’

You didn’t know this about him.

‘Not at twenty-one,’ he continues, ‘but you know, in my twenties.’

It’s comforting to know that this baby fits into his life plan.

‘How about you?’

‘I don’t know,’ you admit after a moment of consideration.

You’re still wrapping your head around the turn your life’s taken. The WAG thing kinda blindsided you, the fame too. The craziest part of this all is that you’ve made a career of it, built an entire brand.

‘But I’m not mad at this plot twist.’

‘Our kid’s a plot twist?’ he chuckles.

You nod. ‘Clearly we weren’t paying attention in sex education.’

He kisses the top of your head.

‘Dr Hernandez said that the baby’s about the size of a blueberry,’ you tell him.

It’s such a random fact, but you feel compelled to share it with him.

‘That’s really tiny.’

‘Right?’

Jude keeps rubbing over the area, and you have an inkling he’ll make a habit of this.

Some minutes pass, and then you remember that the camera’s still going, so you excuse yourself from Jude.

‘Where’re you going?’

His grip is firm around your waist.

‘I’m going to get the camera.’

He looks confused, but he releases you. On bended knees, you shuffle over to the other end of the island to quickly grab it, but you don’t stop the recording. When you get back to Jude, you find him in a daze, silently staring at the sonogram in his hand.

‘She’s so tiny,’ he comments when you sit at your previous spot, facing him.

‘She?’

Talk about wanting to be a girl dad.

‘You think the baby’s a girl?’

He looks up to find a camera in his face. ‘What, you think it’s a boy?’

You shrug, you haven’t actually given it much thought. ‘Well, do you think you can handle a mini me?’

He makes a face.

‘Ah, take it back,’ you giggle.

He takes the camera and turns the lens to you. ‘Well, now I’m asking you. Y/N, do you think Baby Bellingham’s a girl or a boy?’

You pause to think about it. A mini you or a mini Jude, how difficult. ‘Well, I’m going the opposite, I think Baby Bellinghamʼs a boy.’

You snuggle into him, ear pressed against his chest, camera still in your face, but you’re both in the frame. One fact people don’t know about your boyfriend is that he’s a master vlogger, and he’s actually recorded many segments for your vlogs that will never see the light of day because when it comes to Jude, you’re a shameless gatekeeper.

‘I want to shower before bed,’ he proclaims once the recording has stopped. ‘Join me?’

You’ve already taken your shower, but you figure a second one wouldn’t hurt. Jude takes your hand and leads you out of the closet and into the bathroom, where you strip out of your clothes.

‘Is it my imagination, or are your boobs getting bigger?’

Huh?

You look down at your exposed breasts, ‘Are you joking?’

‘No, I’m not,’ with a hand on each shoulder, he turns you towards the mirror. ‘Look.’

You’re looking at them, but they still look the same to you, but he’s adamant. Then, in a move you deem perverted—in a good way, of course—, he cups them in his hands.

‘What are you doing?’ At this point, you can’t contain your laughter.

‘How are you not seeing this?’

He must’ve drank more than you realise, because what the fuck is this?

‘Are you high?’

His face twists with disapproval, ‘No, why?’

‘The boobs,’ you turn to him, ‘what’s with the sudden fascination with them?’

‘I like your boobs, you know this.’

You do. And you like his butt.

‘Come,’ you wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him into the shower. ‘I think you’re tired.’

And horny.

You turn the faucet to run the water.

As you’d imagine, not much showering is done.

‘Careful not to wet your hair,’ you warn him, but it’s too late.

‘I don’t care,’ he says flippantly as he takes your face between his hands and leans over to kiss you.

This is not what you came here to do.

You’re both covered in suds.

‘Jude, I need to rinse my body.’

‘Later,’ he mutters against your lips.

‘Jude!’ you squeal.

He’s such a Silly Billy when he wants to be.

You gasp into his passionate kiss when you suddenly feel the cold shower wall against your back. In a swift and slick movement, Jude trails kisses across your left shoulder and you tilt your head to one side to give him better access to your neck.

A soft moan escapes your parted lips as he sucks on the sensitive skin.

‘Jude. . .’

You want to tell him to stop, but the hand on his naked lower back pulls him into to you.

He hums into the kiss as his hand moves up your body to cup your boob, ‘Tonight, you’ve made me the happiest man alive.’

His vulnerability catches you off guard, how can you not give into him. . .

///

For breakfast this morning, you’re making honey butter toast using a recipe you found on the internet. It’s your first time making it and you’re not entirely sure what you’re doing here, but Jude saw it on Pinterest the other week and begged you to make it, so that’s what he’ll have for breakfast.

It’s a simple enough recipe, but knowing you and your iffy cooking skills, this could either be a major success or an epic fail—nothing in the middle. If it does fail though, you’ve got the regular bacon and egg fry-up on standby.

But only positive thoughts in this kitchen.

You’ve got your favourite morning playlist going softly in the background, and today’s what you consider the perfect Saturday morning. The sun is fully out, and the expansive windows of the apartment allow for the natural light to pour into the space and warms it.

You put the toast into the oven and set the timer.

At the end of the summer, your lease for this apartment will be up, but the likelihood of you extending it has significantly shrunk with the latest development in your life. The song goes, “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Y/N with a baby carriage,” but you’ve skipped parts, so some things need to be shifted around.

That means that the house hunting that you’ve been putting off needs to start. . . now, really.

This is where Coralie comes in handy, but you’re not talking to her. She actually reached out to you Sunday morning to apologise for your awkward encounter at the restaurant that night. Her text read:

Coralie: Last night, I overstepped and I’m really sorry and embarrassed by my actions. Please forgive me.

You’re yet to respond to the text, but you don’t plan to anytime soon because you don’t accept her stupid apology. As far as you’re concerned, she’s an insignificant homewrecker. She is two-faced and vindictive and incredibly cruel for subjecting you to such humiliation.

She laughed with you, acted like a friend when she was fucking your man behind your back for six months.

‘Bitch,’ you mumble as you load the dishes into the wash.

But she’s not worth the time, emotions, nor the energy. So with a deep breath, you bop thoughts of her out of your mind, and move on with your day.

Easy.

A half hour later, breakfast is ready to be served. You’ve gone all out with this meal, and it would be an absolute shame to not take a picture to post onto your IG story. Very quickly, you snap a picture to post later, and take the food to your sleeping boyfriend before the ice-cream starts to melt.

He’s still fast asleep, but he’s since shifted sleeping positions, and he’s hugging your pillow.

How cute?

When he wakes up, you expect him to be hungover and grouchy from all his boozing, and you just know he’ll play it up for attention. If there’s one thing you know about your boyfriend it’s that he dies for attention, and he simply cannot resist being babied.

‘Wakey wakey sleepyhead.’

You place the heavy tray onto the bedside table, on the other side of it to avoid it getting bumped by mistake, and attempt to wake him again.

Still, nothing.

‘Jude,’ you mount him, peppering a million tiny kisses against the side of his pretty face. Even in his slumber, he looks perfect. ‘Come on, you got your eight hours, it’s time to wake up.’

He grunts, then sends you away.

‘But I got food,’ you object with feigned sadness.

But he doesnʼt budge.

Alright, sweet coaxing out the window. ‘Babe, I made honey butter toast and the ice-cream’s rapidly melting. Wake up.’

There’s another silent beat and then, ‘What the hell is that?’

Of course he doesn’t remember what it is.

‘Honey butter toast,’ you repeat, as if it’ll somehow miraculously make him know what it is. ‘That bread you saw on Pinterest and begged me to make.’

He’s still clueless, but at least you’ve got his attention. Finally, with a long groan, he sits up, moving cautiously to not send you tumbling to the floor.

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten.’

He cusses softly as he rubs his face. ‘I’m supposed to meet with my parents at eleven.’

You didn’t know that.

But it’s clearly nothing pressing because he doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that he’s running late. He yawns, rubs his eyes and face some more, then turns to you—sitting comfortably on his lap—and smiles. ‘Good morning.’

You mirror his expression. ‘Morning. You hungry?’

‘Starving. What’s for breakfast?’

‘Here,’ you slide off his lap to take the tray and hand it to him. ‘It’s my first time making it, so be nice.’

He assesses the tray of food you’ve placed before him, then looks back up at you. ‘Nine out of ten for the presentation.’

Your brows furrow, ‘Why not ten?’

‘Some of the ice-cream has melted and it looks a bit sloppy.’

‘Yeah, and who’s fault is that?’

He lets out a hearty laugh, but you’re not amused by this judge.

You climb back onto the bed, your eyes fixed on Jude as he puts the first forkful of the honey butter toast, with a little bit of the vanilla ice-cream and salted caramel sauce, into his mouth.

He chews, then he moans, his eyes widen, more chewing, and then finally, he swallows.

This is a good reaction.

‘You like it?’

‘I love it,’ he cuts another piece of the toast. ‘Ten out of ten for the taste. Did you make the ice-cream and caramel sauce yourself?’

‘Alright, Paul Hollywood.’ You grab the extra fork you had on the tray and dig in—curious about the taste—and are met with protests from Jude. ‘I just want a little taste.’

‘Get your own.’

Your bottom lip juts out, it’s your turn to pout. ‘Yeah, but I’m pregnant.’

With a heavy sigh, he proclaims, ‘And so it starts.’

You can’t help but laugh at his solemn tone.

The two of you remain in bed, even after he’s finished having his breakfast, because his outing with his parents has now been postponed to two o’clock. If it were any other day, you’d join them, but you promised to accompany Winnie to the art gallery and you don’t think you can get out of it.

Turning into your side, Jude questions, ‘Why does she have to go to the art gallery?’

Because she’s in her art girl era, inspired by her latest fling, an up-and-coming visual artist from Portugal. His name’s Baltasar, and they met at Coachella a couple months back, and lately, he’s all she ever talks about. You think she’s in love.

‘A visual artist?’

‘Yep.’

‘So he’s broke?’

‘Hey, don’t be mean,’ you chide.

He doesn’t care though, he thinks it’s funny.

‘You’re such an asshole, d’you know that?’

‘Babe, I’m just kidding.’

Yeah, right.

‘Well, she really likes him so if she mentions it to you, keep the bad jokes to yourself.’

‘Noted,’ his mouth connects with your cheek.

The conversation smoothly transitions from Winnie’s new boyfriend to Jobe, who’s relentlessly trying to convince his older brother to take a short trip to Ibiza before he has to report for international duty. You think it’s a great idea, a final hoorah before it gets serious again.

‘Will you come with?’

‘Ibiza sober? Count me out.’

‘I’ll drink for the both of us.’

‘Uh, definitely not,’ your fingers glide up and down his naked back. ‘And I think Jobe wants this to be a boy’s trip. No girlfriends.’

‘But you’re not my girlfriend.’

Huh? ‘I’m not?’

‘You recently got upgraded to baby mum.’

He’s an idiot. Who even laughs at their own jokes this much? Either way, you’re not going to Ibiza with them. It’s another half hour of mindless chatter before you ask,

‘What time is it?’

‘Early.’

‘Jude, I’m being serious,’ you reach blindly for your phone and find it on the other end of the bed. ‘I need to start getting ready.’

‘Can’t you postpone it for another day?’

‘Winnie leaves tomorrow night.’

But he’s not budging, and so you have to use all of your might to shove him off of you.

Your strength leaves him shook. ‘Where’d that come from?’

‘It’s all those training sessions you’re paying for.’

He swells with pride—men.

‘Will you join me?’

Jude perks up.

‘But we’re only showering, nothing else.’

And he’s dejected.

‘I’ll just sit on the side and watch.’

That’s fine by you.

He follows you into the bathroom, and you think you hear him mumble something about you making it worth his while.

///

What your gallery date conveniently forgot to mention was that Baltasar would be joining your gallery excursion. Had you known he’d be here, you would’ve asked Jude to tag along so it could be a double date or something.

Jude: How’s it going? 🖼️

You’re miserable here, and you’re pretty sure you’re third wheeling. And look, you want to be supportive of your best friend, right? But it’s so hard to be when the guy she’s seeing’s the textbook definition of an asshole.

You’re one pretentious comment away from faking morning sickness to get out of this.

You: I’m having the worst time

You: The art is great, but he’s so smug 🙄

And he’s rude, so rude, and he’s determined to talk over you.

Jude: The artist? 🎨🧑‍🎨

You: Yeah, I don’t think he likes me :/

And you’d actually be doing him a favour by leaving, you’d be doing you both the favour because at this point, you feel like you’re intruding and you’re starting to feel awkward.

Jude: Well fuck him

His text makes you chortle.

At least Winnie��s making an effort to include you. Every now and again, she’ll ask for your opinion on certain pieces, but in the end, you just can’t do it.

You can’t be here anymore.

‘Hey,’ you lightly tap Winnie’s shoulder.

She turns to regard you, ‘Hey, what’s up?’

‘Can I talk to you for a second?’

‘Sure.’

She excuses herself from Baltasar, who’s really displeased with your intrusion, and you find a quiet corner.

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, everything’s fine, the art’s great, but I’m not feeling too hot.’

‘Oh no,’ her brows knit in concern, ‘is it morning sickness?’

She’s buying it, good.

‘I think I’m going to head home, you know, to lie down for a couple hours.’

‘Yeah, alright,’ she takes your hand in hers and lightly squeezes it.

‘But how will you get back to the apartment?’

You are her ride home after all.

‘I was planning on spending the rest of the afternoon with Baltasar,’ she looks over her shoulder at him and when she looks back at you, she’s blushing, ‘but what about you? Are you fine to drive in your condition?’

‘It’s just a little nausea, I promise I’ll be fine.’

It takes a minute to convince her, but you don’t relent, and in the end, you manage to convince her.

‘Now go,’ you nudge her towards her waiting love interest. ‘Have fun with your boyfriend–’

‘Uh, he’s not my boyfriend,’ she quickly interjects, her voice dropping to a scolding whisper.

You smile knowingly, sure he isn’t.

‘What makes you say he’s my boyfriend? Did he say something to you?’

‘No, but I saw the way you were looking at him,’ you shrug, ‘the way he was looking at you.’

Winnie’s uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden.

‘I’ve clearly misread the situation,’ you start backing away from her. ‘But we’ll talk more about it later, okay?’

‘Promise to text me when you get home.’

‘I pinky promise to call you when I get home,’ you blow her a kiss.

You wave goodbye to Baltsar, who seems pleased to see you go, and then you’re out of there.

It’s a short drive home from the gallery, and you’re glad to be back home, but you wish Jude was here with you.

You: I miss you.

As soon as the message’s sent, you regret sending it. But you can always blame pregnancy for making you so clingy.

You fall back onto the bed with a long exhale. What to do with your time? You could watch a movie or you could go the self-care route.

The other day, a skincare brand sent you a few collagen face masks you’ve been dying to try. It’s one of those that melts into your skin. And since you’re on that path, you can also soak in the tub ‘cause you haven’t done that in a while. And if you’re really up to it, maybe you can do your nails.

But first:

You: Got home safe. Have fun with your friend ;) can’t wait to hear about it later x

Jude misses you too. He’s also still with his parents but should be home before dinner.

You: Did you tell them about… 🫄

Jude: No. I thought we’d do it together.

That’s a good plan.

You: Great idea. I’ll see you later, I love you x

Jude: I love you more 😘

Dinner time’s a while away, so you’ve got plenty of time to have your self-care afternoon.

The tub is halfway full, the bubbles foaming, the steam and aroma engulfing the space when your phone notifies you that someone’s at the door.

Your body’s sheathed by a robe, but you still feel indecent as you make your way to the door.

The doorbell goes off a second time just before you reach the door, and when you open it, the last person you expect to find standing on the other side of it is Coralie.

Yes, Coralie’s at your door and she looks like. . . Well, she looks like shit.

‘Y/N,’ she forces her lips into a tight smile. ‘Hi.’

The shock has you frozen for a moment, but you’re quick to recover. ‘Jude’s not home.’

You’re curt because you want her out of your sight and you’ve left the water running in the bathroom.

‘I know he isn’t.’

She does?

‘I’m not here to see Jude, I’m actually here to see you.’

Of course she’s here to see you.

‘Why?’

‘‘Cause there’s so much we need to talk about, woman to woman.’

“Woman to woman”, what a joke? And it takes everything in you to stop your eyes from rolling. What the fuck does that even mean?

‘Can’t we schedule this for another time? I’m kinda in a rush.’

‘It won’t take long, I promise.’

Hell, she can’t take a hint, can she?

‘Can I come in?’

‘We can’t talk about whatever it is here?’ you tighten your grip around the door handle to stop your hand from shaking. ‘I mean, you said it yourself, it won’t take long.’

‘Yeah, but it’s weird doing it at the door, so can I come in?’

‘You’re in no position to call the shots.’

‘Please,’ she sounds desperate. ‘I just need ten minutes of your time, then I promise I’ll go.’

The more you look at her, the worse she looks. Honestly, she looks like she’s been to hell and back, and if you didn’t hate her so much, you’d feel sympathy.

‘Ten minutes, then you have to leave.’

‘That’s all I ask, thank you.’

And so despite your better judgement, you step to one side to allow her into the apartment. As you shut the door, you offer her a drink.

‘I’ll have a water, thank you.’

‘We’ve got water in the fridge.’ You walk towards your bedroom to shut off the running water, ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’

On the short trek, you dig your phone from your robe pocket.

You: Coralie’s here she says she wants to talk but i’m uneasy

You shut the faucet. You quickly change out of your robe into the first clothing items you stumble upon, which are the sweats Jude was wearing earlier. They’re loosely fitting, but they’re comforting because they smell like him.

Coralie’s in the living room, bottle of water in hand, and she’s focused on something out the window.

‘Sorry I took so long.’

Your sudden intrusion snaps her out of her reverie, ‘It’s fine.’

Her eyes are fixed on you as you move around the space to take your seat on the sectional, feet tucked beneath your bum.

This is so awkward.

‘So,’ you start, breaking the ice, ‘you said you wanted to talk?’

You heard Jude out, so it’s only fair that you hear Coralie’s side of the story.

‘Right,’ she clears her throat. ‘I assume you know about our. . .’

‘Affair?’

She winces at your choice of words.

‘Yeah, I do.’

‘And he told you everything?’

‘That you got drunk last December and hooked up? That you’ve been hooking up behind my back for the last six months?’

She sits perfectly still, but her trembling lower lip betrays her.

‘That you were sending inappropriate texts, pictures, and videos. . .’ you continue, pleased to see her squirm in her seat. ‘Am I missing anything else?’

It’s only been, what? Five days since you last saw her, but in the short time span, she’s aged a decade. Coralie’s never disclosed her age, but you’ve always placed her in her late-twenties, maybe early-thirties, but today she looks well into her forties.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I saw the drunk text you sent him, what did it say again?’ you pause for dramatic effect. ‘Right, “I’m drunk and I miss you. Call me.”’

She’s fidgeting with the bottle in her hand, her head bowing in shame. ‘Y/N, I’m really sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?’

‘All of it.’ She looks up at you, ‘I’m sorry that you found out the way you did.’

You hear her, but you’re not ready to accept her apology. Especially because she’s cutting into your self-care time with this crap.

‘Who made the first move?’

‘Jude did.’

Your heart aches at the revelation, it’s like someone has driven a sharp knife into it.

‘He was upset at you, he didn’t say why but he was really cut up about a fight you had,’ she proceeds. ‘And if it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.’

You think you might throw up.

‘But he was drunk, we both were, and. . .’ her voice trails.

An uncomfortable silence descends upon the room because really, what else is there to say?

‘Do you love him?’

‘Does it matter?’

It doesn’t matter, but you want to know. Let’s say it’s curiosity.

‘He’s hard not to love.’

That’s true.

‘But am I in love with him? No.’

Some of the tension in your shoulders eases.

‘And he doesn’t love me either,’ and she almost sounds sad when she says that. ‘It was only ever sex between us, nothing more.’

But the texts. . . what did they mean?

‘Nothing,’ she insists. ‘Call it harmless flirtation.’

‘Harmless?’

She flushes, ‘You know what I mean.’

So you now know that he was mad at you, they were both drunk, they fucked and you think Coralie regrets it, but you’re not sure.

‘Who pursued it?’

‘What?’

‘Your. . . thing, the affair,’ it irks you to say it.

‘Oh, Y/N, I don’t think you–’

‘Was it Jude?’

‘He loves you.’

‘I know he loves me.’

Coralie’s quiet which furthers your frustration at her.

‘Did he pursue the affair?’

‘Why does it matter? It doesn’t change anything because in the end, he chose you.’ It’s like it pains her to say it. ‘He’ll always choose you.’

You nod.

After another long and awkward silence, she professes, ‘You know, I felt awful deceiving you because you really are such a good person.’

‘Don’t start with that crap.’

‘No, I mean it. You’re a good person, and we were friends–’

‘We were never friends,’ you interrupt. ‘You were never my friend.’

You tolerated her, there’s a difference.

‘I know you’re upset with me, and trust me, I get it, but come on,’ she persists. ‘We were friendly with each other.’

‘You sleep with all your friends’ boyfriends?’

That shuts her up.

‘Look, Coralie, I appreciate the apology,’ you pull your phone from the sweatpants pocket to check the time and discover eight missed calls from Jude. ‘But you said you’d be here for ten minutes, and you’ve exceeded that time.’

‘I know, and I’m really sorry about that, but there’s one last thing I want to tell you.’

Your stomach twists with dread—she better not tell you that she’s pregnant. The cheating you can move past, but a child you can’t recover from.

‘You’re pregnant?’

‘What?’ She looks offended that you’d even ask her that question. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’

You sigh in relief.

She’s not pregnant, but she did lose her job. She received the call this morning to let her know that her services were no longer required by the club. She’s certain Jude had something to do with it, so she’s here to plead with you to talk sense into him.

‘And I meant what I said, I really am sorry for the inconvenience that I’ve caused in your life, but Y/N, I really need this job,’ she concludes.

‘How are you so sure he had something to do with it?’

She shoots you an incredulous look as if to say, ‘Really?’

‘And if he did have something to do with it, what makes you think he’d listen to anything I have to say?’

‘Because you told him to end our arrangement and he did.’

‘But you said it yourself, you mean nothing to him.’

She flinches again.

‘I mean, I can try to talk to him, but I can’t promise you anything.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiles. ‘That’s all I ask.’

‘Well, like I said, I have somewhere to be so–’

You don’t get to finish the sentence, ‘cause you’re cut off by a panicked Jude who storms into the apartment, followed by an equally panicked Mark.

‘Babe?’

Thank the heavens he’s here.

///

You wake up in the middle of the night to find Jude’s side of the bed empty. At first you think he’s in the bathroom, but when five minutes pass and he’s not back, the panic sets in. You grab your phone off of the bedside table to check the time: 2:38.

Where the hell is he?

You sit up and search the dark room for traces of him, but there’s nothing—only his phone on the bedside table.

It’s been hours since your confrontation with Coralie, but you’re yet to process it all. You’re still in shock at the fact that she rocked up at your door the way she did, but you’d be lying if you said the conversation wasn’t cathartic.

‘Jude?’

You push the covers away and climb off of the bed. After you locate your house shoes, you set out to find him.

His phone is here, so he shouldn’t be far.

‘Jude?’

As you make your trek down the short passage, you hear soft chatter coming from the TV room. When you turn the corner, you find Jude sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, feet resting on the coffee table.

A smile takes over your face at the sight of him.

‘Hey, you,’ he greets you as you crawl into his lap.

‘Hi,’ you tuck your face in the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. ‘What are you watching?’

‘Pulp Fiction.’

Of course he is.

‘Why’re you up?’

You trace patterns on his t-shirt clad chest. ‘I woke up and you weren’t in bed. I panicked.’

He tightens his arms around you, ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ you sit up. ‘This pregnancy has me acting weird.’

‘Yeah, blame it on the pregnancy,’ he teases.

‘Shut up,’ you shift to straddle him. ‘Why are you sitting here alone?’

His hands settle on your waist, ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’

There’s still so much to discuss in terms of Coralie and her claims, but tonight just isn’t the time for that.

‘Do you think we’ll ever be okay again?’

‘Yeah,’ he takes your mouth into a deep kiss.

‘Come to bed with me,’ you whisper against his lips, moaning when he slips a hand between you, teasing his fingers through your slick folds.

‘I don’t think we’ll make it to bed.’

///

Tagged:

@luv4bellingham

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham scenario #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #Jude Bellingham one shot #Jude Bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fanfiction #Jude Bellingham scenarios

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urne-buriall · 1 day

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sotw is so close to my heart and i admire you and your writing so much. the snippets you posted are so good and it’s so interesting to think about what could’ve been! something that is so interesting to me in the fic is sam and dean’s relationship. i wonder every time i read sotw what the future holds for their relationship?

this is a feast of a question. I'll tell you what I know:

there's just over a week between when Sam leaves and when he's set to start school. just before he's due to go back (and just after Dean rescues Zeppelin), he gets a call from Dean. at first he assumes Dean is calling to make amends for John and try to woo him back home one day, same old story. but Dean says he's broken from John, intends to become Sam's guardian, and also he's gay and dating Cas. honestly all the John stuff is more real and relevant to Sam in that moment. the gay thing is a surprise but Dean's pretty much like, "if you have questions just talk to Charlie, she knows" and I think Sam is pretty much in the best environment in that regard

the first time Sam comes home is, logically, Christmas. Dean and Cas just got the new farmhouse in November. part of Sam wanted to stay at school, because it feels weird going "home" out of tradition or comfort when this isn't your childhood home and everything's changed and he doesn't know what he feels. I also happen to know that Cas is the one to pick him up at the airport, unexpected because Dean got called away last minute with something unavoidable. and it's kind of good because Sam gets to ask and find out for himself that Cas doesn't think of Sam as encroaching on their space. that it was part of the conversation from day 1 that this was Sam's home too

and you know. YOU KNOW how excited Dean is to show all this stuff to Sam! the lights he put up, and a tree, and he's made a WHOLE BUNCH of food. like, it's a modest house that needs a lot of work and he and Cas are just scraping by, but he's made sure Sam's room is nice and there are presents for him and I think for the first time, Sam actually sees that Dean wants his approval. and when he finds out Dean is actually making plans to leave town and visit Sam in California for his birthday, he's surprised by Dean and understands just how much he's grown and changed without John around

they also have a conversation about John. to put it to rest. obviously Dean hates that but Sam insists he doesn't want to be kept out of it, that he was always affected by it to even if he wasn't allowed to be made part of it and understand what was going on. he wasn't actually left out of it, ever, and I think when Dean gives in and agrees to talk about it just this once, he realises how deep it went. and how Sam didn't even always have the connections that Dean had to other people in town, and that there were reasons Sam felt isolated. and Sam would ask the big question, does he think John's dead? (Dean doesn't know.) does Dean want him to be dead? (Dean never wants to see him again. but it doesn't comfort him to think of John dead rotting in a ditch.) (Sam, like the rest of us, doesn't seem bothered by this prospect.)

and, of course, a word about Dean and Cas. that first night Sam is home you just know Dean won't fall asleep and is whispering to Cas all the things like: "do you think he's doing good? he seems good"; "do you think he likes the place? maybe I should repaint his room"; and "is he okay with us, though? for real?" and on this Cas is able to assure him that on that drive from the airport, the only question Sam really asked was if Dean was finally happy

(he is)

#ask #spirit of the west #thank you for the kind words!

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glimmervoi · 2 days

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A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - VI The Beginning of the Winter Ball

masterlist

e&b masterlist

notes: phew, that took forever for me to write ;-; i was really struggling with this one and Idk why because i was so excited to write it when i left off at the last chapter. oh well, it's up now - i hope you all enjoy it!! cant wait to get the next chapter up :D

The winter ball was a beautiful and lively event, full of laughter and music. It was a gathering that everyone in the kingdom wished to attend. Guests from all over the Kingdom waltzed around in beautiful, sparkling gowns and suits made by the best tailors that could be hired.

The ballroom, now finally finished and filled with these beautiful guests, was just as mesmerizing. The musicians positioned near the center of the room played a merry song as the guests excitedly mingled and sipped from thin, long stemmed glasses full of pale sparkling wine.

The ball was just beginning, and already you were impressed. Of course, you were more alarmed at the fact that you were even witnessing it, but it was truly a sight for someone who grew up in such a poor village.

You weren’t supposed to be serving at the ball tonight. You had been told by Rae that the service maids would be handling it, and that you would have the night off. You had been relieved, and had promptly made plans to visit the stables to finally see if you could find the man that you had met days prior.

You were almost certain that he was a stableboy from the way he was dressed, although when you had mentioned the handsome man to Rae, she hadn’t remembered anyone by that description. Still, you had to at least check.

He had been on your mind ever since your first meeting, and you had found yourself constantly craving that electric, bubbly feeling that had filled you when he was around. Your plans to go to the stables had been crushed as soon as you had entered the maids chambers to change though, as Sanria had been waiting for you.

An hour later, and you were standing in the small kitchen adjacent to the ballroom, looking through the open door at the guests as they laughed and enjoyed themselves.

Sanria had already left to return to her own duties, promising you a painful beating with the thin wooden rod that she kept tucked in her apron if you made any mistakes or pissed off Iseul, the head of the service maids.

Iseul, though not as intimidating as Sanria, was still not someone who you wished to anger. The young, raven haired woman had a deep frown on her lips, and her thin frame was tensed as if she were prepared to yell at any second. She had her own wooden rod tucked into her black apron.

The maid next to her, a bubbly blonde, was her polar opposite. Isabella, she had said her name was. After the initial shock of being told by Sanria that you had been requested by someone to serve at the ball, she had helped you push your stiff limbs into the all black service dress and frilly apron, a uniform only used for special events.

Even though she didn’t say anything in Sanria’s presence, she seemed to understand your confusion, discomfort, and alarm at the prospect of serving so many important people during such a large event while still being so new in the castle, while also wondering who had requested such an inexperienced servant for such a large event.

You had no choice but to shake off the feeling and try to steel your nerves. If you didn’t, you risked getting into more trouble. If you tried to be confident and sure of yourself, you had a higher chance of luck.

So, you watched silently as Isabella and Iseul filled two sleek black trays with the tall thin glasses full of sparkling wine, willing the slight tremble in your fingers to stop. Iseul didn’t bother to even look at you when she was finished. She simply snapped her fingers and turned, preparing to set another tray.

Isabella turned her kind eyes to you, nodding her head in approval when you approached. “Have you ever held a tray full of glasses like this?” She asked, her voice sweet. Her presence was comforting, and you found your shoulders relaxing slightly. You shook your head.

“It’s easy, really.” She said, sliding the tray from the table and onto her waiting hand. The liquid in the glasses barely wobbled, and she held the tray with ease despite there being at least ten glasses resting on its surface. “Just carefully slide it onto your palm. Don’t go too fast or too slow, though. It can practically sense your fear when you do it that way.”

Your brows furrowed, and you gently tugged on the edge of the tray. Not too fast, not too slow. So, just right. You hoped you would get Just Right on the first try, before Iseul turned and witnessed you dropping an entire tray of wine on the ground.

You tugged the tray onto your hand, like Isabella had, wincing when the wine nearly threatened to spill from the edge of the glass. The blonde nodded her approval and gave you a small smile. “Perfect.” She said, brushing a stray droplet off the surface of your tray.

“Now, when you go up to serve someone, you must first bow your head like this,” Isabella demonstrated by dipping her chin lightly, her eyes cast downward. A respectful and simple action.”Then, ask them if they would like a glass. If they ask what the wine is, it is a Sparkling Snowdrop from Shivermaw. It’s their specialty.”

You faintly remembered the name, Shivermaw. One of the girls a few beds down from yours was born there, but had left due to the crumbling economy of the winter city. Supposedly, the Duke and Duchess were doing just fine, and so were the wealthier inhabitants of the city. But the further out from the city's main area you got, the poorer the families were. And, that wasn't even considering the rural villages, comparable to your own.

You shook the thoughts of Shivermaw from your head and nodded at Isabella. “Alright, ready?” She asked quietly, approaching the doorway of the kitchen. You swallowed, wanting to tell her you weren’t, and that you just wanted to go to bed. But you followed her, again staring into the beautiful ballroom.

“Ready.” You said quietly. Then, you were both entering the ballroom. The music was louder, and so were the voices of the guests. The smells of their perfumes hit you a little harder, and suddenly it felt like the air in your lungs was gone.

So many people. You thought to yourself, trying to steady your breathing. It had been one thing to simply peer in from the outside. But to actually stand in it? Your legs began to shake. You were terrified. All it would take was one mistake, and Sanria would pull the rod from her apron. Standing in the ballroom made it feel more real than it had when you had only caught glimpses of it. The fear hadn’t hit you as hard as it did now that you were actually there.

Isabella seemed to sense your anxiety, and gently nudged your arm with hers. “Hey.” She murmured quietly. You looked into her bright eyes, your breath coming out shakily.

“Pretend that you’ve been doing this for years. As long as you pretend to be confident, they’ll never know the difference. They just want to get drunk, gorge out on the food, and then fuck each other.” She said, giving you a small grin.

Yes, she was right. They wouldn’t even look at you most likely. You were just a servant. You had one simple task. You took a deep breath, and gave her a small, half-hearted grin in return. “I’ll start on the right side, you start on the left?”

Isabella nodded, giving you a look of encouragement. There were already other maids, dressed like you were, who were handing out drinks on the right side of the room. You scanned the space, trying to track which guests did not have glasses in their hands.

You decided to approach a beautiful, ivory skinned woman with blonde hair the color of the sun. Her blush colored gown was beaded with so many pearls, you were surprised she could move around with so much weight attached to the fabric.

You bowed your head, just as Isabella had showed you, and offered her a glass of the wine. She paused her conversation with a handsome, dark skinned man and looked down at you, her face morphing from flirtatious to disgusted. She didn’t even bother to respond as she angled her back towards you, continuing her conversation.

You tried to brush off the annoyance and embarrassment that washed over you and turned, next making your way over to an older woman with graying hair. Her deep blue gown was much more simple but still caught the light beautifully. You bowed your head to her and once again offered up a glass of wine from your tray.

“Thank you, dear.” She said quietly, accepting the glass. You nodded again, pleased. You backed away, allowing her to drink her wine in peace. Slowly, you handed out your entire tray of wine.

For the next hour, you performed your own waltz to the melody that the musicians created in the center of the room. It had only five steps; go to the kitchen. Retrieve a new tray from Iseul, who still did not utter a word to you. Return to the ballroom. Hand out the wine. Return to the kitchen and repeat.

On your eighth tray, finally, Iseul stopped you. You had reached for the fresh tray, but she put her hand on it harshly. “Let Nidora take it.” She said, her voice raspy. You retracted your hand and allowed the tiny redhead to take the tray, her eyes not meeting yours.

“Is everything alright?” You asked quietly, resting your hands behind your back. You had thought you were doing very well, seeing as you had no experience with service.

Iseul sat the dark blue wine bottle that she had been opening down and looked at you, her eyes holding nothing but disdain and hate. “I don’t like you.” She said flatly, causing your brows to shoot up.

“O-oh.” you said, fumbling for a better response. Everyone was entitled to their own feelings but…you hadn’t done anything to the head maid. Why was she stopping you to tell you this now?

There was a few seconds of awkward silence, before Iseul finally spoke again.

“The only reason you’re here is because a Prince specifically requested you.” She said, crossing her arms across her chest. You took a step back, stunned by her words. Your mind instantly shot to Namjoon. He had been the only Prince to speak to you, and it was only a single order…had you bothered him in any way?

Rae hadn’t acted as though anything was off…surely she would have told you if you had done something wrong? And if you had then why would he request you? Wouldn’t he want to not see your face? Unless - he was planning on punishing you in front of the entire ballroom?!

You began to shake. What could you have possibly done to anger him like that? He had received the right tea from Rae. Had he wanted you specifically to serve it? Would that really be enough to make him want to punish you in front of an entire ballroom?

Iseul snorted at your bloodless face, her smile cruel. “You’re just like that whore Kassie. You slept with one of them, didn't you?” She asked, leaning forward. “Now my neck is on the line. If you mess up, it comes back to me. If I wanted to get stuck with an inexperienced cleaning maid, then I would have just taken Rae’s position-”

“What are you talking aboutI?” You asked, cutting her off. You braced your shaking hands on the counter that she had been working on and leaned forward, panicked. “I haven't been sleeping with anyone!”

Iseul’s nostrils flared, and she uncrossed her arms, snatching the bottle of wine from the counter. “Your reaction tells me that you’re lying.” She said coldly, resuming her task of pouring the wine into the glasses. “I want you to know that if you make a single mistake, I will be the one beating you. And my rod is much more painful than Sanria’s.”

You tried to open your mouth to defend yourself again, to question her - but she cut you off before you could get a single word out. “I do not care about your excuses.” She said, venom dripping from her lips. “Just get back out there and do your job. And do not fuck it up.”

You recoiled, flinching when she shoved a tray towards you. You knew that the dark haired maid wasn’t bluffing. If you messed up, she would know. And, standing there in an attempt to argue or get answers from her would only piss her off more. She was convinced that you were…involved, with a Prince. She had already made her mind up. It was best for you to try to brush it off and return to your duties.

Shakily, you slid the fresh tray into your hand and made your way to the doorway, peering in. You were tense again, just as you were the first time you entered the crowded room. If Namjoon had requested you then you wanted to avoid the tall prince as much as you could. Though, you hadn’t seen him all night. Maybe it was a blessing, or maybe it was his plan to catch you off guard…?

You tried to steady yourself again as you noted the change in the atmosphere in the ballroom. The tables were now being rearranged as guests ran around with metal keys in their hands. It was the key matching game…

Your mind shot to the stableboy from before, and you frowned. You would have preferred being around him than in the mess that you were in now. You pushed forward and began handing out wine to the newly formed couples that stood and flirted, their keys glinting under the candlelight.

You managed to empty two more trays, your stomach still uneasy from your interaction with Iseul, before a familiar tingling feeling began to flow through your veins. You reflexively gripped your empty tray as you looked around, a small shudder flowing through your back.

Then, a warm hand was on your shoulder. A warm voice whispered close to your ear, “I finally found you.” And you whipped around, your cheeks heating at the proximity. In front of you stood the stableboy that had lived in your mind for days, looking even more handsome than before.

You found yourself smiling and opened your mouth to ask him what he was doing there, why he was there instead of the stables. The question halted in your throat as a golden glint caught your eye from atop his head. A crown…

He was wearing a crown.

#bts #yandere bts #yandere bts fic #bts fic #emeralds and blood #yandere hoseok #yandere jimin #yandere jin #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon

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borbygorlinbbqworld · 1 day

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Thanks, Boss

---

The idea of returning to work had been a looming dark cloud at the back of Kate's mind for the last month. Her maternity leave was over, which meant leaving her babies behind.

She had never expected quadruplets--who did, after all? But they had all been born healthy, and all with voracious appetites. Since the price of formula had sky-rocketed, she had had no choice but to nurse them and pump.

"Pump?" her mother had asked when she told her. "You mean there's still some left in there after feeding four kids?!"

It had been so hard to explain that her pregnancy had made her mammaries go absolutely haywire. In addition to expanding to exorbant proportions, they always seemed to be in hyper production mode when it came to milk.

It meant her massive breasts always felt incredibly full and heavy. During the day, it had been fine because she was able to nurse frequently, but the moment her babies went to sleep for the night, her breasts basically had to be pumped constantly or else she would leak all through the night.

She was no idea how she was going to make it through her first day back at work.

Sitting in her car in the lot, she listened to the hum of the pumps getting out as much milk as possible before she had to go into the office. She hadn't planned to pump before work, but as it was, the biggest bra she owned had started to overflow with her expanding cleavage on the drive in. So rather than let them leak through her shirt, Kate popped the pumps on, changing them to the highest setting.

She reached into the box where she'd stored the empty bottles to be used at the lunch time pumping session, only to find the box was empty. She whipped around, accidentally slamming one her her breast against the car horn.

How on earth was it only 8:50 AM, and she had managed to fill all fifteen bottles?

With a worry, she watched as the last of the bottles still attached to the pump filled up. She turned it off and capped the bottles, placing them with the others in the electric cooler sitting in her passenger side seat.

Though the pumping session--15 bottles worth!--had given her some relief, she knew it wouldn't last long; she certainly wasn't anywhere close to empty.

Kate got out of the car, doing her best to shove her uncooperative, swollen breasts back into a bra that still felt too small. She buttoned up her white shirt, ignoring the huge gaps between buttons her swollen chest caused.

She was just working on the last stubborn button when she heard a familiar voice.

"Jesus, Kate..."

She looked up to see her coworker Todd standing a foot from her, slack-jawed. Unsurprisingly, his gaze was transfixed to her huge cleavage.

Her face flushed, and in her embarrassment, the button popped completely off her shirt. "H-Hi..."

It took Todd a while to respond.

"You umm... damn... those are..." He picked his lips, keeping his gaze transfixed upon her breasts.

"I know. Pregnancy really changes your whole body..." Though it was true for a lot of women, the same couldn't be said about Kate. Her body had pretty much gone exactly back to the way it was, save for now basically being a milk factory.

Finally, Todd looked away, if only to adjust himself so that his erection wasn't as obvious. "Breastfeeding twins I guess, right?"

"Quadruplets."

"Jesus Christ..." he breathed. A red hue crept across his face, and he had to adjust himself again. "I mean, you already had huge tits. Now, you're like..." He snuck a look down at them again. "What, a J cup?"

If only.

"An M..."

He smirked and swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bouncing. "M for Mega Mommy Milkers I guess... come on, let's go. We'll be late."

---

Kate stood before everyone in the lunch room, her face ablaze. Her coworkers were all men, and every single one of their gazes was trained on her engorged breasts.

The only person who didn't make her feel uncomfortable was her boss, Nolan. Tall and quiet, it would have been easy to mistake him for shy or weak willed. But he ran the company like a tight ship.

"Please make Kate feel welcome back after her maternity leave." He smiled out at his workers. "And if anyone should need a refresher on our sexual harassment policy, I would be glad to assist."

Kate heaved a sigh of relief. He had always been a good boss, looking our for people, and now--

A button from her blouse shot from her shirt, shooting across the room. Another followed, and another as her breasts tried to burst from her top.

She scrunched her eyes shut, partially in pain from engorgement and partially because she didn't want to look at the drooling men in front of her anymore.

'I'm so fucking full of milk... I really need to pump...' she anguished in her head. Though she could feel her nipples ache for release, her break was so far away. Even if it wasn't, she had already used up all her empty bottles; where would she put all of it?

"Kate, why don't you come to my office for some privacy so you can pump?"

Nolan's deep timber was polite as always; he was such a sweet angel. Grabbing her bag with the pumps in it, she made her way from the lunch room to her boss's office. Her breasts swayed and sloshed this way and that with every step she took, milk dampening her teats.

"I'm so sorry," she confessed, sitting down on the couch in his office.

Without the buttons on her shirt, she knew he could see the blue veins on her massive mammaries that indicated how full she was. Even more so, she realized her bra barely fit anymore; more than half her areolas poked out from behind the bra's desperate attempt at coverage.

"It's fine. You're a new mother, it happens."

She beamed back at him. How lucky she was to have such an understanding boss. "Thank you..."

"I noticed you didn't bring any bottles in though." He ducked into the small closet deside the water cooler.

"Y-Yeah, I sort of... used them all up already..."

He emerged from the closet with two empty 5 gallon jugs normally used for water coolers. "Will these do? Ordinarily I would say they'd be overkill, but you do nurse quadruplets... You must produce an incredible amount of milk."

Kate was too grateful and relieved to pay much mind to the embarrassment. She took the giant jugs from him and placed them on each side of her on the couch as Nolan sat down at his desk.

But rather than stare at her expanding and near-bursting mammaries, he looked down at his laptop and worked.

He didn't even glance over when she hoisted her one breast out of the bra to hook the pump on. Soon, the room filled with the relaxing hums of the pumps working on overtime. Her milk drained into the water jugs as she leaned back on the couch and watched her broad shouldered boss work.

He was so calm, and made her feel so comfortable...

'I want him to put his babies in me.'

Her clit throbbed at the idea she never knew she could concoct. But as she continued watching him, the ache of her breasts slowly subsided.

Finally, after two hours, she felt something she'd never experienced before. She pulled the pump away, and her teat didn't even drip.

She was actually empty!

Cleaning her supplies up, she eyed the 5 gallon jugs that were both nearly filled to the brim. "I guess all that milk was really in me..."

Nolan looked up, and flashed her a smile that made her weak. "It's definitely a lot. Do you need to keep it for your babies?"

"N-No..." Despite the major pump session, she knew she would be full by the time she got home. "Do you want me to dump it, or--"

Nolan got to his feet and placed a cap on one of the jugs. Removing the old one from the water cooler, he placed the uncapped one in its place. The machine made air bubbles pop to the surface of the milk as it seaped downward. With a flick of his finger on the trigger, Nolan filled a paper cup up with milk.

He raised it to her, smiling. "Cheers."

---

🐮❤️

#breast expansion #lactation kink tw #tw lactation kink #massive breasts #smut #huge natural melons #huge cleavage #mommy milkers #writing #big tiddy committee

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kame-writes · 3 days

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Concerning the media overlords au:

First of all: I love it! Thank you for sharing the idea with us <33

Second: Does Alastor live in the tower with the other Vees? And does Alastor still move into the hotel? If yes, on a scale of one to absolutely how sad/pissed/jealous is Vox after receiving this info?

3. I'd like to imagine Velvette's fingers are constantly itching to get ahold of that handsome deer man, who doesn't know how to dress himself properly or trendy, and give his wardrobe an upgrade. Could you imagine this happening? (Maybe with lots of alcohol involved. So that he would at least temporarily let her experiment with his clothes. Bonus points if she is able to take picture too. Vox would obviously make himself some copies for.. private reasons...) Do you see my vision?? Can you see it??

4. Can Vox convince Alastor to do more audio features within their network? Like podcasts or interviews and the like? Or are they just screams as well? (I recently discovered a podcast about cooking, where each week they talk about one ingredient and explain a recipe with it. I think this would fit Alastor's preferences very well.. tho the ingredients might not be as commonly used now that I think about it... anyhow... now I can't stop thinking about Hannibal and Alastor hosting a food podcast.. oops.. sorry, but not really)

5. You mentioned that Husk still works in his casino, if he isn't needed. Do you have any headcanons for Niffty's whereabouts?

Anyway that's all for now! Have a lovely day/night! <33

p.s. Sorry if this ask is intrusive. For some questions it's pretty clear that I've already imagined something for myself that may or may not fit with your vision of this au. If you feel like I overstepped, feel free to ignore this or send me an alastor_fuck_u. gif :D

Im am very happy to have questions asked! You have no idea how many ideas i have and dont know what to do with xD

I'd love to see other peoples headcanons and ideas for this universe, if anyone does anything for it then please tag me so i can see ^^

This is gonna get long so I've put it under a read more

2: No one is really sure if he lives there or just works there. He HAS his own suite in the tower, but he's not always there when they go look for him, and not being able to find him is very a common occurrence, made more frustrating because he refuses to carry or awnser the mobile phone they forced on him. He hangs around in the common areas like the kitchen and living room sometimes. And if they do manage to rope him into something like a movie night its a huge hassle, because he will insist on a black and white or silent film if he HAS to engage with the tv, and Vel and Val hate those.

The whole top of the Tower is dominated by his large Radio tower though, its slightly seperated from the rest of the building, suspended above it with a staircase/ladder to enter the hatch. Valentino is usually not brave enough to check there for Alastor.

Its the same with the hotel. He does move into his own room there, but goes back and forth a lot, and doesnt have a schedule. Vox tires to pretend hes fine with it at first but often ends up the hotel to be a pain in the ass to Charlie, and getting kicked out by the staff of Alastor. Hes convinced himself that Alastor will lose interest sooner rather than later, and the others just tune out his whining at this point. No one buys it when he claims he didnt even notice Alastor was gone as soon as the Radio Demon gets back to the tower.

3: I may be planning to draw this haha He does let her dress him up ocassionally, he has a few differant suits he's approved of and kept, but does wear his original the most the time. Velvette has a line of 'Vintage chic' clothing that partly started as a way to get Alastor to agree to changing his 'ratty ass old man style' by appealing to clothes that were updated takes on his era. He still very rarely leaves the tower in anything but his own usual attire.

He does on rare occasions allow photos to be taken of him by the vees (and once, later on by charlie, under strict instructions that she keeps it to herself) but no video. And none under any circumstances are allowed on social media. He has blown up a few phones that have attempted, both the Vees and employees.

4: Alastor has agreed to be on a podcast a few times, but its rare, and only if its somehting hes really interested in talking about. It's one of the few modern things he approves of since its just a version of a radio talk show. Same with interviews, he keeps them even more extremly rare, and the mystery of the radio Demon keeps sinners in fear more than him being in the public. Vox always wants him to do more since the ratings sky rocket when Alastor features.

When Alastor has done an interview it is with his back to the camera, and sitting in a large wingbacked stupidly over the top ornate chair, that hides him from being seen, except maybe the top tuffs of his ears and antlers. And he doesnt reveal much about himself when he does. The chair is partly to hide him, and partly to stop the equitment form glitching too much. He likes to pulls faces and makes gestures deliberatly made to make Vox falter and look stupid on camera, since hes the only one who can see him in that chair.

He has teased on his own radio show that one 'lucky' sinner may get the chance to be on both a guest star on his radio broadcast AND a livestream if the mood takes. Valentino had to inform him that what he's referring to is called a snuff film

5: Niffty gets moved to the hotel pretty much full time once Alastor gets involved, Husk is a part time employee, but ends up spending less time at his casino as time goes on.

Valentino is happy Niffty is gone because she creeps him out, she ocassionally hung around his studio during work hours, especially if theyre doing a scene with 'bad boys'. Vox isn't bothered. Velvette is not happy, especially that Niffty is reduced to a maid/janitor for the hotel, and makes that very known to Alastor. Velvette loves Niffty, they are chaos sisters and work on very sketchy sounding potions together, and gang up against the boys.

Niffty is also a great seamstress herself and brings her designs to Velvette like an excited child showing off their latest art project. Almost none of these get used, but Vel has fun forcing models to parade around the studio and work in something Nifftys made, they often include bugs and bodyparts, Velvette finds this halarious.

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amoremainslayer · 2 days

Note

riskiest places zb1 would get dirty at!! sounds goofy if you think about it BUT its not😋

TRUST I GET YOU!!

Jiwoong - Pool

I think this might just be because I wrote a imagine about this, but ever since I saw the pics of him in the pool I'm a strong believer he'd love to fuck you in the water. Just the way your body is accessible so easily and how the blue light of the water illuminates your skin so beautifully makes him enjoy the experience so much.

Zhanghao - Public bathroom

I think this man is just so needy sometimes, he can't wait to get home. Imagine you two are having a dinner with your parents at a nice restaurant. The dress you're wearing fits a little to well and your hair looks a little to good for zhanghao not to become needy. He'd have his hand on your inner thigh all the time until you suddenly went into the bathroom. This was his opportunity! So he'd quickly follow you only to pump his fingers into your tight hole, making you watch yourself through the big mirror.

Hanbin - Car

The two of you were doing a small road trip, originally planning to go to the beach. All day hanbin had been complimenting on how beautiful you looked, or how pretty the sundress was which you were wearing. After a while of driving, and your dress riding up dangerously high, hanbin just couldn't help himself but to stop the car. He'd pull you to the backseat, making you ride him until he filled you up with his seeds.

Matthew - Gym

I think he'd go crazy whenever he sees you in sport attire. Just the way your curves were so beautiful in the shorts you were wearing, or how you groaned whenever you used one of the machines. After a while it would all be to much for him and he'd pull you to the empty shower halls to fuck you against the cold wall.

Taerae - dorm

Taerae gives me such big music major college student vibes like??? So it's clear that he would take you in his dorm, ESPECIALLY when his roommate is like barely a room away from you. He loves the way you try to be as quiet as possible while he eats you out, he just finds it so cute.

Ricky - Changing room

The whole day ricky had been all over you. Be it his arm snaking around your waist or his eyes practically pulling off your clothes. It didn't help you two were in public and ricky was definitely not subtle with it. So when the two of you finally ended up in a changing room ricky couldn't help himself but thrust his fingers into you, your small whines silenced by his hand over your mouth. He made you watch yourself through the mirror, a small grin placed on his lips as you rolled your eyes back in pleasure while climaxing. And trust me, he had never been any more proud when he saw the looks of the workers who had heard more than they wished they had.

Gyuvin - Infront of a window

Gyuvin loves the thrill of fucking you infront of the mirror. Especially when it's dark and he put on his LED lights, he just loves the way your joined body's leave a silhouette on the street infront of you. Taking you from behind while letting you face the window just let's excitement flush through his veins. Sometimes he even opens the window, letting the people your moans if he's feeling risky.

Gunwook - In your bedroom

Don't get me wrong, not just simply the bedroom. It has to be when someone is right beside the room, the walls so thin every gasp is able to be heard. The way you're so public yet so private at the same time just gets gunwook everytime. If he's feeling even more excited, he'll fuck you against the wall for the other person to hear you even clearer.

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fortisfilia · 1 day

Text

Promised Part 16 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, physical fights, mentions of torture (brief), blood and violence, character death. Read with care!

Word count: 4k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 15 | Part 17

Part 16 - 30 June 1945

The N.E.W.T.s had gone by so quickly, it felt like all the preparations, all those years in Hogwarts and all the worries they had brought, had been of utmost exaggeration. Of course, they had been challenging, but what the Professors had said about them in advance, how hard and draining they would be, how nervous every student had been, made it even more curious afterwards. It had only taken a few days after all. Some days of your life, which would most likely be forgotten in a few years. Just like any other week. And all that fuss for that? Well, at least they were over.

Tom, Camille and you had passed most classes with the highest grades. Freda had gotten some outstanding grades as well and even Avery and Lestrange had qualified, if only barely. The final evening in the Great Hall was filled with a strange kind of melancholy for the students of year seven. You had done it, all of you. Seven years in Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. It was like your first year had only gone by moments ago, you could practically still feel the sorting hat sitting on top of your head. But alas, all good things come to an end.

Final points were given to all of the houses and, to most people’s surprise, Hufflepuff won the cup. Everyone knew headmaster Dippet favoured Slytherin and Tom and Freda had surely given their own house a few extra points here and there, but Avery and Lestrange’s robbery from Slughorn had cost Slytherin too many points to recover from. All Hufflepuffs were overwhelmed with joy and Ben even ran over from the Gryffindor table to kiss Camille on the cheek while she celebrated.

Walking through the halls one last time was strange, you couldn’t fathom that you would leave the castle ultimately. It had grown to be everyone’s second home and it would always remain so in your heart. Sadly, there wasn’t a lot of time for grief, as the antidote for Mors Grano was finally ready and waited to be filled into a flask to be used the following day. Tomorrow, June 30th would be your wedding day. A day you had dreaded but still couldn’t wait for. A day that was about to change everything.

And there you were. In an old chapel north of Ramsbury, a small muggle town, where no one knew who you were. The Gaunts had chosen the place themselves and had only told your family where to go the day of, most likely to make sure you couldn’t plan to mess with them.

The chapel was dull, as was everything else there. No guests, not even a priest or a registrar to wed the two of you. Marvolo had told you that he was to do it himself. The place was so small, it wouldn’t have even fit a lot of people, but you still wished that at least Camille could have been there to witness. And so, with a heavy heart, you stood in the tiny side room, where Mother’s wedding dress waited to be put on, while Elsie, your parents and the Gaunts waited in the chapel.

“You alright?” Tom asked as he fixed his tie in front of the mirror.

You watched him as you approached the dress, your fingers brushing over the silk skirt. He looked great in his tailored black suit, white shirt and dark green tie, there was no way of denying it. Freda Morris would have been just as green with envy if she had seen him, but still, not everything was about looks.

“I’m alright,” you said and took another look at the dress. “I have to change now. Put this thing on.”

“I’ll give you some privacy in a minute.” He turned to the table in the corner where a few things had been gathered, including a box he had put there. “I brought someone.”

He pulled off the top and you peaked inside. “Nagini! Marvolo allowed for you to take her here?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tom shrugged. “And it would be better if it stayed that way.”

“I see,” you said as you reached out your hand for the snake to smell you. “Well, at least one of my friends is here.”

Tom wore an unreadable expression when he closed the box again, his lips thin as he nodded slightly. “Do you have the antidote with you?”

“Yes,” you answered and pulled it out from your pocket. The flask was the size of your palm, small and translucent. The potion inside shone through the glass like a silver and lilac gloss.

“Alright then,” he said. “Give it to your sister as soon as you can. I’ll wait outside with the others.”

When he closed the door behind himself you heard Marvolo nagging about what was taking so long, urging for you to hurry. The bastard made everything about himself again, even on your wedding day, which should have been the happiest day of your life. You pulled the dress off the hanger with force, put it on and used your wand to adjust it here and there to make it fit better. When you looked into the mirror, it felt like staring at a stranger’s reflection. The dress was beautiful, but you didn’t come close to what a happy bride should look like. Hair and makeup had been done in a hurry, nothing was as perfect as it could have been. No traditions, no extended family or friends, not even a banquet. But what had you expected? It was clear from the beginning that the wedding wouldn’t be anything like you had dreamed of since you were little. It didn’t have to be like this though. Not as marginal, not as a means to an end.

Three hard knocks on the door pulled you out of your thoughts. “Are you done yet?” Marvolo’s muffled voice called. “Hurry up!”

Desperation turned into annoyance and your eyebrows furrowed even deeper. What did he want now? “I need a minute,” you answered as you opened the door only an inch. “Elsie, Mum, can you help me with my dress?”

Marvolo mumbled a few incomprehensible words while the two walked in. To hell with him, he could wait for five more minutes before he would get what he wanted. And you should get what you wanted too. Right now.

Mother looked you up and down with a smile. “You‘re a beautiful bride, darling. What do you need help with?”

“Come,” you told them quietly and took Elsie by the hand, leading her to the other end of the tiny room, so that the Gaunts wouldn’t hear you. “I have to tell you something.”

The two looked at each other and then back at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I found something out a while back. Tom told me, he showed me. The curse that hit you, Elsie, it wasn’t sent by someone who wanted to attack Father. It wasn’t meant for Father at all.”

Elsie's eyes widened as Mother put a hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean? Why would you tell us that minutes before your wedding?” Mother asked.

“Let me explain,” you went on. “Tom showed me that it was the Gaunts who sent the curse. That’s why they found a cure so quickly. And why they didn’t heal her completely.”

Mother gasped faintly as her hand wandered up to her chest. “You mean…”

“Yes. They chose Elsie specifically so we would agree to their pact.”

“I… I can’t believe it,” Mother mumbled.

“They made me sick?” Elsie asked, her eyes as big and round as marbles. “On purpose?”

You nodded.

“But why haven’t you told us sooner?” Mother asked. “We could have-”

“I did as much as I could without attracting too much attention. Tom and I, we both assumed that the Gaunts wouldn’t even lift Elsie’s curse after the wedding. And even if they did, I wouldn’t trust them enough to let her drink anything that they would give to her again. So we brewed the antidote ourselves.”

You pulled out the flask and held it up in the air. Mother took it and examined it for a moment. “You brewed that?”

“Yes. Elsie, take it right now. You will be healed completely then and the Gaunts won’t notice anything.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Mother asked. “And what then? What are you going to do?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s safe. And then,” you looked at the door to the chapel and heaved a sigh. “Then I’ll get married. Stick to the plan.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Mother said as she handed Elsie the flask.

“Would you rather have her drink something that Morfin brewed up? If he would give her anything at all.”

“You’re right,” she said and shook her head.

“Quick Elsie,” you urged. “Drink up and we’ll be ready to go.”

Elsie nodded as she pulled the cork off the flask, then put her lips around the opening and took a small sip. She scrunched up her face into a grimace. “Gross.”

“Sorry, princess. They don’t make recipes for strawberry flavoured antidotes yet. Now drink it.”

Elsie exhaled sharply, then threw her head back and let the liquid pour into her mouth. One swig, two. She had it down almost completely when suddenly the door flew open.

“Excuse me, ladies, what is taking you so long?” Marvolo asked, standing in the door frame, with Morfin, Father and Tom behind him. Marvolo stared at Elsie, who was just gulping down the last drops from the flask. “What is that? What did you give her?”

The three of you froze, staring back at Marvolo and the other men. Shit.

“Just her vitamins,” you said. “To make sure she’s well for the ceremony.”

“No, no,” Marvolo huffed as he walked in. “Give me that.” He took the flask from Elsie’s hand and brought it to his nose. “Morfin, come here.”

Morfin entered the room as well, took a look at the empty flask and smelled it. Father and Tom took several steps in too, filling up the room almost completely.

“Stop,” Marvolo ordered and held his hand up to Father and Tom. “I didn’t tell you to come in.” The two halted and remained standing by the door. “Now, son. What is it?”

Morfin inspected the remaining liquid inside the flask, shaking it to see the single droplets hanging inside the vial. One side of his mouth pulled up into a ghastly smirk before he spoke through gritted teeth, “Mors Grano antidote.”

Marvolo brought his hand up to his neck, fumbling on the chain that hung there. That must have been where he carried their own flask with the unfinished antidote. It was still there, which visibly confused him. He remained calm, wouldn’t dare to show that he didn’t know how you had done it, though his eyes had turned dark.

“You little bitch,” he spat. “Morfin, take the child.”

Morfin did as he was told, quicker than any of you could have reacted and pulled Elsie to the middle of the room by the hand, then stepped behind her, one hand around her neck, his wand in his other one, pointed right at Elsie’s head.

Mother cried out when she saw what had happened to her daughter and turned to walk over to her, while Father ran towards Morfin and Elsie as well.

“Stupefy!” Marvolo called, his wand directed at Father, who fell to the ground immediately.

“How dare you, Gaunt,” Mother screamed, voice breaking, as she approached Morfin. “Let my daughter go!“

“Oh please,” Marvolo merely sighed, raising an eyebrow. With a swing of his wand Mother was knocked out as well, her body crashing to the ground with a thud. “I would have spared you, woman,” he said and shook his head. “Forced me to do it.” His eyes met yours as he used his wand again and with one swift motion, whisked your parents’ unconscious bodies to the corner of the room. “I told you not to step in. No one’s making a move now unless I tell them to.”

Silent tears ran down Elsie’s cheeks, who was still captured between Morfin’s hand and his wand. You had managed to pull out your own wand during the turmoil and looked over at Tom in the doorframe, who had done the same.

Marvolo noticed the looks you exchanged and heaved a bitter laugh. “You two, eh? Partners in crime? And what do you think you’re doing there, girl? With your wand out. Do you really think you can defeat me with your schoolbook magic?”

You gripped your wand tighter to prevent your hand from shaking, swallowed down thickly and frowned. There were a million things you wanted to say, thousands of curse words you could have called him, but Morfin still had Elsie between his fingers. “Don’t you underestimate me, Marvolo.”

He clicked his tongue, let his head fall back and laughed wholeheartedly. “Oh, juveniles. Graduated a day ago and think they’ll conquer the world. Well, I got some bad news for you then. But first, you’re going to tell me how you’ve found out about Mors Grano. And how you got a hold of an antidote that isn’t ours.”

You didn’t answer and only looked at Elsie, who breathed rapidly, her hands holding on to Morfin’s grip around her neck.

“I see,” Marvolo sighed and turned his head towards the door. “Tom, would you give us the honour then? Come, stand next to your bride.”

Tom walked over silently and placed himself next to you, his hand gripping yours.

“Oh look at that,” Marvolo feigned. “Tragically in love. Now, Tom, explain.”

Tom didn’t answer, only held your hand a bit tighter and you could feel something cold inside of it, something metallic, perhaps.

“No?” Marvolo asked. “You don’t want to tell us? Well, then we’ll have to motivate you. Morfin, go ahead.”

Morfin grinned but didn’t point his wand at Elsie anymore. Instead, he pointed it right at you. “Crucio!”

The pain that rushed through you was unbearable from the moment it had started. Falling to your knees, you opened your mouth to scream but couldn’t hear the sounds that escaped you over the static ringing in your ears. A million knives must have pierced your body at once, and they scraped off your skin with rusty blades inch by inch, while your head hammered and stung as if a lightning bolt had struck right into it. Your vision had left you from the pain, everything around you had gone white and you only heard scraps of conversation between the all-consuming buzz that rumbled between your ears. Tom was begging them to stop, you assumed, but couldn’t concentrate on his words, as the pain threatened to crack your skull.

Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. You opened your eyes slowly, blinked a couple of times when your perception came back and felt a small hand on your cheek. Elsie kneeled above you, next to Tom.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice hoarse, while you sat up groggily.

Marvolo was still standing in his spot, looking down at Morfin, who lay on the ground, holding his leg with both hands. And attached to his thigh, was Nagini, pressing her fangs into him through his trousers.

“Nagini,” you whispered and as soon as you had said her name, the snake let go of Morfin and retracted.

“She crawled out of her box when he hit you with the curse,” Tom said quietly. “And bit him before they could have noticed.”

Tom helped to get you on your feet again and even though your legs were still shaky from the Cruciatus Curse, you stood in front of Elsie, to shield her from the Gaunts.

Morfin winced in pain and held his leg. Nagini’s venom spread quickly, Morfin’s thigh was twitching on its own. “Father,” he whined. “I need treatment. Help me get home.”

Marvolo looked down at his son, lips parted with an expression of sheer revulsion on his face. “Do you think I have time to take care of your little injuries right now? Suck it up.”

“But… But Father, I can’t feel my leg anymore,” Morfin panted. “I might die when the venom reaches my heart.”

Marvolo sighed and bumped his foot against Morfin’s leg, to which his son screamed. “Then leave.”

Morfin nodded, it must have taken all of his remaining strength not to pass out, and closed his eyes before he apparated, leaving only a few drops of blood on the floor behind.

“Now back to you,” Marvolo said and looked at Tom as if nothing more than a minor inconvenience had just occurred. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I can kill everyone in this room within a second.”

Tom still didn’t answer and placed himself in front of Elsie and you, which made Marvolo laugh again.

“Oh, boy. You’d sacrifice yourself? For this family and not your own? I know I’ve raised you differently. You’re a disgrace.”

“You want me to tell you everything?” Tom asked. “Then let me come closer, so I can share all of my secrets.”

Marvolo remained unimpressed at the thought - there was no spell he couldn’t counter. So he rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Come as close as you want, son. But keep your wand up, where I can see it.”

And so Tom went. One step, two, three, four, until he was face to face with his Grandfather. Marvolo still eyed Tom’s wand, gripping his own tightly. And then, Tom moved his other hand abruptly, jerking it toward Marvolo’s abdomen once. You couldn’t see from where you stood and only noticed when Marvolo looked down himself and opened his mouth.

“Imperio,” Tom said quietly while Marvolo collapsed.

Now that you could see what he had done, you put your hands over Elsie’s eyes, holding them closed. Marvolo was bleeding from his stomach and Tom held a bloody knife in his wandless hand.

“I’m just making sure you can’t apparate,” Tom said. “Like uncle did. The coward. I want to see how you die.”

Marvolo looked up at Tom, opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, tears edging on the corners of his eyes.

“No. You don’t get to talk now,” Tom went on. “Never again. You’re going to listen. And I’m even going to tell you what you wanted to hear. I found a way to tell her what you have done to Elsie. I stole Morfin’s book, and we brewed the antidote ourselves. Oh yes, before I forget, we also stole some Banshee tears from Morfin, while you were out. Scrook and Hokey were very helpful. I even learned some new things this year. Some of them from a muggle-born, can you believe? It got me thinking, you purebloods are so concentrated on magic, you wouldn’t even realise when I’d come up to you with a knife in my hand. And I was right. You didn’t. You called me a bastard so often and reminded me that my Father was a muggle. So I thought I’d remind you myself how much of a half-blood I am. Isn’t it awful dying the muggle way? So slowly, so weak.”

Marvolo laid to the side, impacted by the Imperius Curse and opened his mouth, coughing up blood, his eyes half-closed.

“And now, here we are,” Tom whispered. “You did this all to yourself. Good night, Grandfather.”

It took a while until you all had collected yourselves. Mother and Father had woken up some minutes after Marvolo had closed his eyes completely and you had brought Elsie into the chapel, so she wouldn’t have to see the body. Tom, your parents and you hadn’t decided yet what to do with Marvolo. You had thought about leaving him there, or to apparate him to Gaunt manor, where the elves would take care of it.

Mother joined Elsie and you in the chapel, so you took the chance to get some fresh air outside. Only out in the open did you notice that you were still wearing the white dress, now spotted with deep red stains. What scorn of fate it was to watch someone die by your groom’s hand on your wedding day. The door behind you opened again when Tom walked out. He had managed to remain composed better than the rest of you, despite what he had done.

He walked up to you, looking at the ground and only lifted his head when he stood right in front of you. A warm breeze brushed over your skin as the sun was setting. “Are you okay?” he asked.

You nodded. Physically, at least. “I think I am.”

Tom dipped his head once too and loosened his tie. “Are you scared of me after what you’ve seen?”

You looked him in the eyes, tilting your head slightly. His pupils were extended, brows sitting calmly above. “No,” you answered. “I would have done the same if I had to.”

He bit his lip and nodded, hands inside his pockets before he took them out, held you by your waist and kissed you. All the tension and stress seemed to leave your body for a moment, your shoulders finally relaxing and you wished you could hold on to him like this for hours. Tom stayed close for a moment, pressed his forehead against yours and sighed. “So,” he said as he took a step back. “The pact is done with. Elsie is cured. You don’t have to marry me anymore.”

A surprised gasp fell from your lips. You hadn’t even thought about that yet. He was right. “I guess I don’t.”

Tom pushed the tip of his shoe through the gravel, drawing patterns. “But I wanted to know,” he said. “Would you have gone through with it if this had turned out differently? Would you have married me and stayed?”

There was a moment of silence when you thought about it. What answer could anyone give to such a question? You liked him, yes, you would even dare to say you were in love with him. But would you have really married him this quickly if you could have decided yourself?

“Would you?” you asked, to which he smirked. The wind tousled his hair, just like when you had sat with him at the bench back in the Hogwarts’ courtyard. You pulled the engagement ring Marvolo had sent off your finger and handed it to him. “Why don’t you ask me? Properly, I mean.”

Tom’s smirk vanished. He took your hand in his, holding the ring as he inspected you. He opened his mouth but shut it again to clear his throat. Then he asked, “Do you want to marry me?”

A smile formed on your face, one that he didn’t mirror, as long as you wouldn’t answer him. “No,” you said, closing his palm.

Tom’s expression didn’t change, but when you looked closely, you noticed that the size of his pupils had decreased, his brows now hanging in confusion. He still held onto your hand but you could feel him trembling.

“Not yet,” you added, your smile still in place. “Not like this and certainly not today. Not on Marvolo’s terms. Not without my friends and not before we really get to know each other and both decide, on our own, that we want to do it.” You leaned forward, kissed him once and said, “So, ask me again in a year or two?”

And then, the rarest sight of them all, Tom Riddle smiling genuinely, was given to you. He looked so handsome wearing it and with the orange light from the setting sun on his face when he pulled you in.

“I promise I will.”

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 17

Tags: @ariachaos @daardyrnitta

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softly-potter · 3 days

Text

Last Forever

Summary: Weiss is sick and hospitalized, and her wife pays her a visit.

Inspired by the series finale of How I Met Your Mother

Pairing: Ruby X Weiss

Word Count: 1,123

Warning: brief description of illness

A/N: Since every character in RWBY is named after a fairytale, I made Arial after Ariel in 'The Little Mermaid' and Gothic after Mother Gothial in 'Tangeled' :)

Ruby hated hospitals.

Since a young age, she couldn't stand them, ever since she went to visit her sister after Yang had fallen during soccer practice and broken her arm. Yang had to spend nearly a week in the ER, and Summer had dutifully brought Ruby to visit a few times. The place was stony, smelling of bleach and stale bread, and the nurses were always on the verge of shouting expletives at everyone in their field of vision. The machines were making a constant sound, each other differing from one another, and doors all looked the same aside from the names tagged on the plastic holder, repeating down a seemingly never ending hallway.

Ruby had hated every second of it.

Now, she didn’t mind them so much, aside from the plastic holder.

The smell of bleach meant that Weiss’s room was clean. The cranky nurses meant that she was being taken care of when Ruby was caught up with work or with the kids. The beeps on the machines meant that Weiss was still alive, still clinging to health with the assistance of technology.

The plastic holder with their last name in it meant Weiss was still sick.

Gripping her briefcase with her right hand, Ruby opened the door with her left, making sure the smile on her face was still intact. From her bed, Weiss stared out the window, her blue eyes unfocused and her hands limp at her sides. When she heard the door, she turned her head, and a little bit of life came back to her eyes as she spotted Ruby.

“Hi honey, how was work?”

The question was a simple one, as if this is how their days had always ended, Ruby visiting the hospital after getting off of work, but it brings tears to her eyes because that is not how their days had ended.

It used to be that Ruby would enter the bustle of their busy home, scoop up their daughters and listen to them recount their days as she unwound. After freshening up, Ruby used to help Weiss set the table for dinner, and they would all sit together as they ate, Arial and Gothial chattering away.

It seemed so long ago, how had it only been a few months that all that had changed?

“It was work,” Ruby sighed, putting her briefcase down to lean against the edge of Weiss’s hospital bed. “But I did sign off on the plans for that new building so we’re making headway.”

Sitting down on her designated chair, Ruby scooted it forward just a bit, and laced her hands with Weiss’s. Weiss squeezed it, and Ruby ignored how weak her wife’s grip felt. “That's wonderful, Rose.”

Ruby grinned, casting her eyes down. She couldn't help it, that nickname always invoked a schoolgirl emotion that made her head spin.

Looking up, Ruby raised a brow. “Harass any nurses today?”

Weiss rolled her eyes. “I can't help it if I know how to do their job better than them.”

“True, but it is their job, not yours.” Ruby countered and Weiss shrugged with a grin, and then her eyes narrowed.

“They’re disappearing.” Weiss said softly, her face changing to a frown.

“The nurses?”

“No.” Weiss replied, and turned her neck, looking away. “Your smile lines. I always…loved those about you. And they’re fading.”

Ruby inhaled sharply, squeezing Weiss’s hand.

They’re quiet for a moment, aside from the gentle beep of her breathing machine and Ruby allowed her eyes to wander over Weiss’s neck and face.

In the past few months, Weiss had lost a substantial amount of weight and it was beginning to be apparent, the tendons in her neck straining, her jaw sharper, her eyes deeper.

“I’ll bring Arial and Gothial to visit tomorrow,” Ruby said, hoping to put Weiss in a better mood. “Think it’d do them some good.”

Without opening her eyes, Weiss nodded. “Please do. I miss them.”

Ruby nodded, raised Weiss’s hand to her mouth and began to press feather light kisses to her knuckles. Weiss gave a little sigh, the sound one of contentment, and she turned her head back to Ruby.

“I’m a little tired,” She whispered. “If I fall asleep, can you turn the light out?”

“Of course.” Ruby replied, and Weiss gave her a thin smile before shutting her eyes once more.

Pressing another kiss on Weiss’s thumb, Ruby squeezed her eyes shutting, willing herself not to cry.

Crying didn't help. Crying didn’t make Weiss better.

Instead, Ruby gently placed Weiss’s hand down, before taking out her wife’s favorite book from her briefcase. Clearing her throat, Ruby began to read, keeping her voice low, pressing her thumb between the pages.

Weiss opened her eyes, her pale lips forming into a smile as she listened before closing once more, inhaling through her nose.

As Ruby read, she held Weiss by the wrist, her fingers encircling her wife’s easily.

Eventually her breathing shifted deeper, and Ruby knew Weiss was asleep. She closed the book, dog-earring the page, and placed it back in her briefcase.

Standing, she gripped the metal pull of the lamp before looking down at Weiss’s sleeping form, and letting out a soft hum.

“You’re still pretty,” Ruby murmured, and pulled the light switch. “So so pretty.”

Bending, she pressed a long kiss to Weiss’s forehead, before collecting her items and quietly leaving the hospital.

“How was she today?” Yang asked, putting another clean dish onto the dry rack. Ruby sat on the island chairs, her legs crossed at the ankles.

“Tired,” Ruby said honestly. “She just seemed really drained, Yang.”

Yang gave a sad expression and turned off the water faucet, coming around the table and putting her arm across Ruby's shoulders in a side hug.

“Weiss is strong.” Yang said, giving Ruby a little shake.

“I know, I know,” Ruby said with a slight wave of her hand. She had heard this all before, especially when Weiss had first gotten sick. “Thanks again for watching the kids.”

“Of course,” Yang said and returned to the sink. “They’re only little terrors when they’re awake.” Ruby exhaled in agreement, and Yang began to wash another plate. “Besides, if Weiss is anything like those kids, she’s gonna be fine.”

Ruby smiled. “She said she missed them today.”

Yang raised a brow with a knowing grin. “See? Told ya.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, picking up a fork and made an attempt to eat the food in front of her, pushing the broccoli around her plate.

“She has to,” Ruby said quietly, and over the running water, Yang couldn’t hear her. She placed a fork full in her mouth, swallowing, before adding in an even lower tone. “We’re meant to last forever.”

#ruby rose rwby #whiterose #ruby and weiss #rwby #whiterose fanfiction #blurb #rwby fanfiction

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tojancy · 10 days

Text

nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all.

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you.

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it.

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.

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flowercrowncrip · 9 months

Text

Today (July 19th) is Changing Places awareness day!

[Image description: a photo of the changing places toilet with the features listed below /end ID]

What is a changing places toilet?

A changing places toilet is a toilet which can be used by disabled people like me who can’t use a standard accessible toilet. This may be because someone needs extra equipment, and/or room for carers to help them. The main features of the changing places toilet are:

Lots of room! Changing places toilet must be at least 12 square metres. This means that there is plenty of room for a wheelchair user to turn around as well as room for up to 2 carers.

A peninsular toilet! This is a toilet which has enough room on each side were wheelchair to be positioned for transferring. As with standard accessible toilet there are grab rails on each side.

Accessible washbasin! The washbasin must have room underneath for a wheelchair user. An adjustable height washbasin is preferred.

A ceiling hoist! This allows people who cannot transfer independently to be able to safely get out of their wheelchair. A person brings their own sling which is hooked onto the hoist allowing them to be lifted.

An adult size changing table! This allows people need help with undressing to use the toilet, or help changing incontinence pads to have their needs met safely and with dignity. Without a changing table, many people have to resort to lying on the toilet floor to change their pads which is unsafe, undignified and unhygienic.

Why raise awareness?

The lack of changing places toilet means it’s hard for disabled people like me to leave the house. It’s limits our ability to socialise, access work/education, exercise, travel, and even attend hospital appointments. (In the UK there are only 93 hospitals with a registered changing places toilet).

I have to plan my entire life around the few changing places toilet that exist, which massively shrinks my world. It’s incredibly difficult for me to travel (less than 2% of train stations in the UK have a changing places toilet), go days out, visit the hospital, and otherwise experience the world outside my house. Hopefully one day every event like Pride or music festivals will have a mobile changing places toilet, and there will be public changing places toilet with 24/7 access in every town, as well as changing places toilets in public buildings like leisure centres, libraries, museums, cinemas, tourist attractions and shopping centres.

More info including what you can do to help the UK campaigns for more changing places toilets can be found at changing-places.org

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pandoraslxna · 7 months

Note

Lo’ak using visiting Spider as an excuse to come over and steal your panties to Jack off with later 🥴 he conditions himself thag your scent = getting off, and now he can’t jack off without them AND he has to hide his dick coming out of its sheath every time he gets too close to you

Addicted to you

adult Lo‘ak x female human reader

Words: 4.7k

Summary: The first time it happened, could be considered an accident. He didn’t mean to come over and steal your underwear, stuff it in his tweng and take it with him, like a dirty little secret. The second time however, was less an accident and more a strategic planned theft.

Warnings: explicit smut, perverted Lo‘ak being a little panty thief, masturbation, scent kink, slight somnophilia (with consent), childhood friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, reader is spiders sister, oral (f receiving), obsessive behavior, Lo’ak has retractable genitals

Translation:

Tweng = loincloth

Tanhì = star, bioluminescence freckle

Lo‘ak, by all means, is no pervert.

He’s not a freak, even if some small minded people had called him that before. But that’s because of his fingers, and not because of this.

It’s hard to explain how any of this has even started.

It’s just, you’ve always been there. Always running around with him and his siblings, playing in the mud and chasing each other through high branches of trees. Riding piggyback on his shoulders, letting Kiri braid your hair. Crying into Neteyams shoulder when you scratched your knee and then letting grandma take care of it. Sitting by the campfire together, baby Tuk in mums arms while dad tells them stories from earth, from the place you’ve never even been before, yet it’s where you come from. Originally. But to Lo‘ak, you’re all na‘vi. Just like Spider is all na‘vi.

You’ve always been there, small little tanhì. Until you’re not so small anymore. And Lo‘ak isn’t small anymore either.

When they come back, years after seeking oturu with the metkayina, his eyeballs almost pop out of their sockets at the sight of you.

Small little tanhì, he scoffs at the memories of his childhood friend. You’ve grown. Not much for Na’vi standards, still the size of Tuk when she was like 8, but Norm makes jokes about you and Spider not being kids anymore, so he assumes you must’ve reached your maximum height. How cute, he thinks. Lo‘ak however, well, Max says he’s making dad competition now. Almost choked on his coffee when he first saw him again. Apparently you must’ve realized the change in his physical appearance too, because you said stuff like the ocean did him good and giggled when you asked what they were feeding him over there, squeezing the muscles of his upper arm with your small hands.

Apart from your size, Lo‘ak was surprised to see you in human clothing. He assumes, and maybe that makes him a little sad but he would never admit that out loud, that after his family had to leave and Spider was also gone for a very long time, you barely had any reason left to visit the village, other than accompanying Norm and Max to the lab. So you ditched the loincloth for a pair of pants and a shirt. That however, doesn’t change how beautiful you are to his eyes. His little tanhì.

Luckily, that’s pretty much everything that has changed.

Funny enough, because that meant Spider still had to share a room with you now that he’s back. Neither of you are very pleased about this, but as long as he and the Sullys are finally home, none of you would openly complain about the temporary living situation, until Norm had moved some of his stuff out of his office so Spider could move in.

The room you and Spider share isn’t that big. Two beds, a window, a small desk and a wardrobe, that’s basically it. It’s even more cramped when a full grown Na’vi lays sprawled out on Spiders bed, but that doesn’t keep him from coming over every couple of days to hang around like he’s still a lazy teen.

Lo‘ak still can’t get over the sight of you running around in these human clothes. They’re odd. Even worse when you wear them, when you’ve changed so much and there’s so much more, so much new of you to see and now you’re hiding it from his gaze, underneath those entirely too long and plain looking fabrics.

Lo‘ak can barely peel his eyes off of you, swirling around the room with a woven basked on your hip, picking up stuff from the floor while simultaneously nagging at Spider to strip and— pause.

"Anything else?" You ask, taking the shirt that Spider had just worn to put it into the basked.

"Nope", he says, pronouncing the p with a little pop sound. Glancing around the room for the final time, you spot a pair of dirty socks in the far corner and as you bend down to pick them up, something seems to fall out of the basket that you don’t notice right away. Before Lo‘ak can react however, you’re already out of the door.

Sitting upright on the bed, Lo‘ak wants to reach for the tiny piece of fabric that you had lost, but then he’s interrupted again.

"Oh shit, I forgot to give her my tweng", Spider groans, pulling a woven cloth out from where it was sandwiched between the mattress and Lo‘aks butt. "I’ll be right back, bro." And then he basically sprints after you.

Chuckling to himself, Lo‘ak now finally gets to pick up what had fallen out of your basket.

It’s pink and small, looks like a triangle almost. Too small to be any kind of clothing. No, there’s really not much fabric on it. Strange, he thinks. He turns it in his hands and then spots a tiny, white ribbon on what he assumes must be the front, and now that he holds it like that…

It almost sends him off the edge at this very moment as he realizes— It’s underwear. Great mother, those are yours!

Lo‘ak almost passes out as he spots a tiny wet patch on the fabric. It makes something in him throb, knowing that your cunt was once pressed there, your sweet, sweet pussy rubbing and pressing against the soft cloth, while some of your juices leaked out and stained the material.

He swallows dryly.

Your clit must have rubbed on it, too, he thinks before he can even stop these thoughts from coming. And Lo‘ak, by all means, is definitely no pervert, but he can’t help but imagine the cute little nub dragging across the fabric, the nub that he just wishes he could wrap his lips around and slowly suck, watching as you writhe and cry out from the stimulation on your sensitive form.

Lo‘ak doesn’t know, can’t even explain it to himself as to what has driven him to his next move, but he then puts the fabric to his nose and, almost on instinct, inhales.

The very scent of your sex on the fabric makes his head spin and his cock stir to life.

Oh, how he loves your scent. That filthy, sinful scent on your panties, the lovely fragrance enhanced all around the cloth. With each trembling intake of your smell that his soul inhales, the harder his cock grows, until it finally unsheathes, bulging a tent into his now entirely too tight tweng.

The first time it happened, could be considered an accident. He didn’t mean to come over and steal your underwear, stuff it in his tweng and take it with him, like a dirty little secret.

The second time however, was less an accident and more a strategic planned theft.

Lo’ak now knows where to find them, knows that there’s a small woven basket in the far corner of your room, and if he lays on Spiders bed and stretches enough, he can just reach into it with his very fingertips. So when you and Spider are busy with something else, he so casually stretches his long limbs and grabs the first, black little slip he can reach, stuffs it in his tweng and then pretends that Neteyam is calling him through the throat comm or that he suddenly remembered he had stuff to do at the village or whatever reason is believable enough to hurry out of the door and hide somewhere in the forest.

Once his heart stopped pounding in his ears and his lungs stopped burning, Lo‘ak settles against a tree and pulls the small piece of fabric out of his tweng. Pretty black, cotton panties. Warm now, from rubbing against his skin on the way here. His hand twitches as he examines them in awe.

In all honesty, Lo‘ak really thought that the silly little childhood crush he once harbored for you was finally filtered out of his system after spending the first few nights at the metkayina village bawling his eyes out because he missed you so much. But no amount of other girls he tried to occupy himself with to forget you could change anything about those feelings that came rushing back to him like a tsunami, the very moment his eyes fell on you again, even after all those years apart. And now you’re all grown up, both of you are, and he’s not that awkward little guy anymore, had his fair share of girls to know how to talk to you, how to flirt and maybe even confess his feelings that could lead to something more, yet here he is. Cock throbbing in his palm with your slip pressed against his nose while he furiously jerks himself off to your scent. Like a pervert.

He was gritting his teeth as he stroked over his shaft, squeezing the light blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles. There’s a tightness, a warmth that swells inside him and it gets even worse when he inhales deeply, your scent filling his nostrils. His hand strokes faster, harder and he moans against the soft cotton.

Speeding up his movements, Lo‘aks hips were already bucking up to fuck into his fist. His imagination, those clear images in front of his minds eye, of your pussy dragging over the same spot he was rubbing his nose against were only egging him on more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck", Lo‘ak was chanting curses as he felt the coil in his stomach threaten to snap. His head was thrown back in bliss, your underwear pressed tight to his nose and he couldn’t help but bite down on the fabric to stifle his moans when he finally came.

And suddenly Lo‘ak feels like he’s 14 again, blushing like an idiot whenever you’ve hugged him, not getting the words out when it was just the two of you together.

He was so head over heels for his little tanhì, that this seemed to be the only way to give him some temporary relief, until he would finally get his shit together and gather enough courage to ask you out.

But before this could even happen, things were already getting out of hand.

The first time might be an accident, the second time not so much, but the third, fourth, fifth … and then the tenth time— that’s when he realized this was growing into some strange form of addiction.

Of course he made sure you would never realize what a perverted friend he was, always making sure to rinse his cum and any stains out of the fabric before stuffing them back to the basket in your room, switching them out for a new pair. But not making you realize how perverted he actually was, that was easier said than done.

Naturally, all Na‘vi had a keen sense of smell. Lo‘ak had always been able to smell your natural scent when you were near. And in the beginning, just holding your used underwear in his hands got him hard, made his nose twitch, fingers itching to get them closer, bury his whole face in them and inhale. It was intoxicating.

But Lo‘ak didn’t even realize what he had done to himself, up to the point he came completely untouched for the first time, just from smelling them. That’s when it finally dawned on him. Your scent was enough to get him off. He had actually managed to condition himself to this– coming to your scent, not being able to come when he couldn’t smell you.

Oh, that was bad, he thought. That was really, really bad.

Even worse, because you’ve always been touchy with him. Always hugged him, held his hand, jumped into his arms. And Lo‘ak was so used to carrying you around on his shoulders or his back, that it would’ve been strange of him not to. So now here he was, again, suffering from the consequences of his own actions.

One of your soft, squishy thighs on either side of his shoulders, the back of his head snugly pressed between your thighs and his hands holding your ankles so you wouldn’t fall off as you wandered through the forest.

Normally, he’s a good listener. But he has long stopped listening to whatever you were talking about, now that your scent was so close to his nose that his cock was already pocking out of his sheath and Lo‘ak was slowly loosing every internal battle of trying to keep it in there until they had reached high camp.

Every time you giggled or laughed, Lo‘ak could feel the vibrations against his neck. He could feel every shift, every drag of your clothed cunt against his skin. The warmth radiating from your core, the softness of your thighs on either side of his head, while dainty fingers played with his braids.

Suddenly there’s tug on his braids and Lo‘ak damn near whimpers as you pull his hair to get his attention and— no, no, no you had to get off, you had to get away from him, because this is all too much.

"Lolo", it’s the silly nickname name you gave him as a child, the one that still makes his eyes roll because you used to tease him wit it. "Are you even listening? I asked you a—"

"Sorry it’s just, you– you’re getting kinda heavy, tanhì." Two hands grab your hips before you can even protest and there’s a look of utter confusion on your face, once your feet meet the ground again. Too heavy, Lo‘ak mentally slaps himself. He can lift you up with one hand, so who’s going to believe that?

You look at him with your brows knit tightly together, eyes narrowed to scan him up and down like you were trying and could actually see through him and fuck, his body was working against him in this moment, because the feeling of his own slick coating his cock as it slowly slid out of its protecting sheath sends a shiver up his spine.

"C‘mon let’s keep moving, we’re almost there", he hastily blurts out, leading the way now, hands clenching into fists at his side.

Lo‘ak tries to ignore that your scent still lingers heavy in the air, even as you walk behind him. He also tries to ignore how silent you had suddenly gotten, tries not to look back because he knows you‘ll look hurt or confused, or both, as to why he had suddenly decided to put distance between you and him –and called you heavy, on top of that.

The entire walk back to the village was filled with silence, and even though it felt heavy in his heart, it’s what he needed to calm himself, to make his cock soften and breathing even, to put his focus on something else other than the flowery sweet smell that’s walking just a few feet behind him.

It’s not hard to guess why he doesn’t see you the day after that. Spider visits high camp alone, says you’re out with Norm somewhere to gather ar'lek seeds so they can plant them in the small herb garden in hells gate. He knows that’s just partly the truth.

The next day, Lo‘ak doesn’t even wait for you to come over, or not. Spider spends the day with Kiri anyways, and maybe that’s his sign to finally get his ass up and do something about this whole fucked up situation, apologize for acting so weird and put an end to his strange addiction.

It’s already late in the afternoon when Lo‘ak reaches the human outpost camp. He taps the code into the small keypad on the front door of the facility, puts a respirator on and walks down the hallway. Several turns later and he finds himself at your door, knocks ever so lightly, it’s almost too light, before slowly opening the door, crouching under the frame and stepping inside.

The sight he’s met with definitely gets his knees a little weak.

You’re curled up on your side, your lashes are softly resting on your cheeks, lips slightly parted with quiet sighs of sleep falling from them. Your shirt has ridden up a bit, exposing your hips and stomach to him, blanket nowhere to be found. His gaze wanders over your body, the curve of your waist, down to your legs and eywa help him, you’re not wearing pants. All that’s covering you, are those pink panties that seem very familiar to him and fuck, if that doesn’t make him swallow hard because he just realized these are the ones he’s first taken from you. The ones he had completely soaked in his cum until he nearly passed out, shooting blanks from how many times he jerked off with them pressed to his nose and then wrapped around his cock once he had completed inhaled your scent off of them.

And now he has to hold himself back, because your deliciously sweet scent almost suffocates him the moment he settles to sit on the end of your bed.

He can’t help the way his hands move on their own, just a soft caress up and down your thigh. Completely harmless, he wants to make himself believe.

You hum in your sleep, eyebrows pinching together for a brief moment before you relax into his touch. It’s like your scent grows more intense the longer he strokes his warm palms over your exposed skin, running up your thigh, the curve of your hips. His fingertips trace the cotton fabric of your panties, hooks it under his finger, plays with it, before he runs his hands back down your legs.

Lo‘ak feels his body heat increase the longer he plays with you like this. Feels his sheath opening up, the tip of his cock teasing against the cloth of his tweng, the retraining tightness of trying to keep it in there. His tail curls like he’s in pain from holding himself back, and then your thighs spread into his hands, opening up like a pretty flower, subconsciously presenting yourself to him.

He knows he shouldn’t… but he can’t help it.

Swallowing hard, Lo‘ak kneels at the end of the bed. Careful as ever, he pulls you towards him, holds you open like a five course meal on a silver plate with both of his hands on the backside of your thighs. He nuzzles his nose against your skin, tenderly. Inhales, places soft kisses here and there, moves further to the inside of your leg. His nose never breaks contact to your skin, you just smell too good, he’s completely lost in it. Addicted.

His breathing soon turns into shallow pants of air, his mind growing dizzy and pupils dilated to the absolute max as he continues to scent you like a drug.

The content little, "Mmh…" followed by the arch of your back as you stretch yourself, hands coming up to rub the sleep in your eyes away, do little to faze him now, let alone stop him from what he was doing. It’s too late to stop anyway.

Glancing down on yourself, Lo‘ak feels your breath hitch in your throat in a shy little gasp, thighs trying to close shut, but his hands keep them in place.

"Lo‘ak?" You ask, face flushing red and for a moment he comes back to himself and his heart aches because he thinks he fucked up, crossed every possible boundary, ruined your friendship because he got too lost in his perversion– but then you bite your bottom lip and brush your dainty fingers through his hair, cradle the back of his head and pull him closer.

He grins.

Lo‘ak doesn’t break eye contact with you as he kisses your inner thigh, fangs grazing your skin before he sucks a small hickey right there. He kisses the purplish mark on your flesh before he moves further, eyes on yours before he presses his nose against the cotton fabric of your underwear. Your hips rise off the bed, impatiently bucking against his face and Lo‘ak groans.

"You smell so good, tanhì", he murmurs, nosing your clit, nudging the little nub until a whimper falls from your lips. "So sweet, I just… sorry, I had to."

A soft laugh draws his attention from your clit back to your face and he lifts his head up to properly look at you.

"Don’t apologize", you say, chest heaving, "I was waiting for the day you finally decide to make the first move." He smiles at this. And maybe he blushes a bit too, but there’s barely any time for you to see it, before his face is buried between your thighs again. He inhales sharply, letting your scent cloud his mind and then he presses a kiss to the outline of your clit, feeling it twitch beneath the thin fabric.

Hooking his fingers under the waistband, he tells you, "lift your hips for me", and as you do, he slides them off of your legs completely.

You watch his eyes darken with lust once you spread your thighs further for him, watch him part your folds with his thumbs almost tenderly, brushing over the little hood of your clit to get it into his direct view.

"Don’t tease", you then whisper and Lo‘ak thinks, if only you knew how much he was holding himself back right now. "I would never", he chuckles, and you squeak when he grabs your thighs and pulls you closer, bends your legs so your knees are almost touching your ears.

Flattening his tongue, he then licks a board stripe from your dripping entrance up to your clit, and oh tanhì, you’re making even the sweetest fruit competition. Lo‘ak groans, loud and shamelessly, once your slick juices run over his tastebuds like sweet nectar. Your hips jolt, moans spilling from your mouth as he closes his lips around the little nub of pleasure and sucks, hard.

You gasp sharply, hands fisting his hair tighter and mindlessly tugging as your thighs snap close around his head.

"O-Ohh god, fuck, Lo‘ak", you moan, back arching to get his mouth closer to you and Lo‘ak thinks it’s adorable. You’re panting, gasping and moaning like you can’t believe how good he’s making you feel.

Between your thighs, you hear him hum at your taste, your clit drags against his nose and those puffy lips, while he slurps your slick like he’s starving.

A glance up at you reveals that you’re staring sightlessly at the ceiling, slack-jawed and dazed, and Lo‘ak feels a surge of amusement and affection. So cute, looking almost as sweet as you taste on his tongue.

While sucking on your clit earned him the most of a reaction from you, he more often switched to sticking his tongue into your clenching hole as far as he could reach– which was deep, considering the proportions of a Na‘vi compared to a human. Like this, he could perfectly smooch the flat of his nose against the little nub that made you cry out, could smell you at the same time he was tasting you and that combination made something in him twist into a tight knot, daring to snap at any moment.

"Lo’ak, Lo’ak, oh– holy shit, Lo’ak", you moaned his name like a prayer, and the sound of it was send straight to his cock that had fully unsheathed itself by now. It throbbed heavily, pre-cum soaking his tweng and bringing friction to the sensitive tip once he’s started humping the air, hips bucking and thrusting, searching for more.

There’s nothing he wants more than to bring a hand down to his cock, get rid of the loincloth and start stroking himself, fuck his fist if necessary, anything to get the edge off. But his hands can’t, don’t, want to move. They’re perfectly comfortable where they are, holding your thighs, spreading you wide open while he devours you. He can’t bring himself to do anything other than grind his face against your pussy hungrily, tongue gliding through your folds, sucking and slurping and kissing until tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

"Lo, I’m close", you whimper, hands tugging harder on his braids and he loves it. "I’m- I think I’m coming. Please. Please don’t stop!"

And stopping is the last thing that’s on his mind.

Your tiny hole clenches around the tongue that’s thrusting in and out of you, and Lo‘ak can’t help but imagine how you’d feel around his cock. He wants to, he really fucking wants to split you open on it, bend you in every possible position and feel your tight walls clamping down on him. But this right here is his priority. He wants you crying out and coming on his tongue, wants to drown in your slick and inhale your scent for a good while longer before he can stuff you full of his cock.

"Yeah? You’re gonna come, tanhì?", he mumbles against your clit and your hips buck against his mouth, desperately searching for more. "Come for me then, c’mon. Let me taste you, give it to me."

"Uh-huh", you nod frantically, lifting your head up to look at him. Your hands tug on his braids, guiding him back to where you needed it most and Lo‘ak gladly complied your order. And then your hips were rising off the bed, and you nearly sobbed as you chanted, "m’coming, m’coming– oh– fuck!"

Your hold on his hair loosens just as everything below your waist tightens.

The sounds that were reaching his ears were a combined chorus of groans and high-pitched whimpers coming from both of you. While Lo‘ak feasted on your arousal, his tweng got equally as soaked in his cum than his face got soaked in yours.

You like the way that the gold in his eyes seems to glow up at you from between your legs, when you manage to pick your head up and look down at him. You like the way that his fingers dig into your skin as a stern reminder for you to stay there, and you like the way that his tongue continues to lave at you, despite the trembling of your legs.

The expanse of his tongue drags methodically against your cunt one last time, gathering your taste like he means to savor it. Then, his head raises, all glistening lips and prideful eyes, his hands sliding up your sides to hook around your waist.

"Holy fuck", you exhale a shaky breath. "Lolo, what the hell, where did that just come from?" You laugh in disbelief, a bit more than just breathless from the intense orgasm, and Lo‘ak chuckles with you, crawling onto the bed to settle himself between your thighs.

"Don’t call me that childish name when I just made you come on my tongue, tanhì", he purrs into your ear, grinning, and the feel of his canine grazing your ear sends a shiver up your spine. Lo’ak then nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck, pressing his weight down on you and if it weren’t for the uncomfortable slick and sticky feeling between your thighs, you could actually enjoy this.

"Can you give me my underwear", you whisper, blushing, "please."

"No", Lo‘ak tells you ever so nonchalantly, face still buried against your skin. Your brows furrow and you can’t help but laugh, "What– Why?"

"I‘m keeping them", he says, "As a little souvenir."

Hearing that, makes a completely new wave of heat wash over you, lightening up your cheeks in crimson red.

"Perv", you mutter quietly, a smile tugging at your lips.

"Hmh, yes I am. But you also can’t have them back because…"

Theres a pause, two arms snake around your middle and hug you tight, before he rolls over and drags you with him. You gasp at the sudden change of position, now straddling his stomach with him laying flat on your bed. Rising a brow, you look at him, waiting. Lo‘aks hands then grab you by the waist and he pulls you up in one fluid movement, your hands fly up to catch yourself just in time, both of them on the headboard of your bed now as your core hovers only mere inches from his face.

His breath his warm on your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body as it fans over the slick covering your inner thigh. Licking his lips, he grins up at you, the hunger in his eyes evident, as he says,

"Because I’m not done with you yet, tanhì."

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