#medici x reader

[that1fanficwriter]

Hiii!! Are you still accepting requests for medici and are you willing to write a Francesco fanfic. I have a prompt in mind that i want to request. Thanks!!

So unfortunately I am not doing medici requests right now. If I do ever go back to them I'll come back and write this. Sorry!

[salliesimpkins]

“I like you a lot”

Isaac lahey x fem!Reader

TW: Smut, oral (fem receiving), use of pet names, claws, nipple play

+16 read at your own risk. I’m not your mommy A/N: first smut to write + english isn’t my first lang word count: 2.5K

You were at school, leaning against your locker. smiling at and laughing with Stiles, until you caught Isaac glaring at you across the hall, visibly upset.

"alright Stiles I've got to go now, I'll see ya" you walked away after Stiles nodded and walked to Scott, and you made your way to Isaac.

"hey" you flashed him a smile and he blushed. How could he not? he thought you were the most beautiful thing ever.

The beta glanced over Stiles before turning back to you. "hey.." he spoke softly.

"Just tired... I uhh, I’ve got a lot on my mind lately" he said slowly and softly, not wanting to ruin this moment between you two.

You nodded slowly, feeling bad for him. "well you know, you can always talk to me" you said softly, reassuring him that he's got someone by his side.

You watched him closely as he looked at you quietly, and you didn't want to rush him to speak, you knew how sensitive Isaac is. It made him feel pathetic when he opened up to anyone or asked for help, that's what his dad has taught him. That a man is a man, boys don't cry, but Isaac knew you, he loved you, trusted you, and he knew your listen and get him anytime.

"I've just been going back.. thinking about my family" He looked down as his expression softened.

"oh" you whispered softly and placed your hand on the boy's back, rubbing it gently. "I know you've suffered from your dad your whole life, but his death Isn’t your fault".

Isaac flinched, but he didn't move away from you. Even though your gesture was tiny, it felt huge to him, It made him on top of the world. He let out a soft sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. "I know... I just-" he paused, unsure if he can keep going or not, but he really counted on you, so he kept going. "I didn't even cry at the funeral and everyone thinks I don't care, that I was wishing the whole time i'd get rid of him, and the problem is.. it's true. I was relieved that he's dead"

"Honey listen to me" you took a step closer, placing both your hands on his shoulder. "your dad used to lock you in a freezer. that night.. that night he hurt you and you ran like any other night, because you didn't know what he would die" you then place your hand on isaac's cheek, caressing it softly "you were just scared, you did nothing wrong"

Isaac paused for a moment and leaned into your touched as he shivered. The relief he felt when his father died was a burden to him, but he knew you were saying the truth so he bit his lip thoughtfully. He wanted to say that your hand felt to right on his skin, but he didn't and rubbed his face with his hand then looked at you hesitantly as he spoke. "I- Iwas scared" his voice trembled as he stammered softly, making you unsure if he meant you to hear him. he slowly smiled at you softly and leaned into your touch again, causing his breath to hitch.

you sighed softly as you try to build up some courage and confidence to ask him to go out with you, but you were too scared that he'd turn you down so you just looked quietly at the ground until you heard a familiar 5 taps on the locker next to you and looked to the direction to see lydia. She must have noticed your flustered face because she tilted her head at Isaac and winked at you. You two have been talking about it and she was eager for you to confess to him, and apparently she was so sure Isaac wouldn't let you down for a reason she wouldn't tell.

you snapped out of my trance as Isaac cleared his throat and looked at the same direction you were just looking at, except there was nobody there.

"sorry about that. I was just wondering if you would want to go home with me? I mean-" You paused and took a deep breath. "why don't you come over and we can just.. relax?" you asked nervously as he just looked at you quietly. "Scott's sneaking out with Allison again and our mom won't be home until ten.. so I was thinking if you'd want to just come over instead of staying alone or with Derek, he could be lame sometimes" I chuckle nervously and put on a fake confident grin.

Isaac stayed quiet for a moment or two, taking in your words, and he thought there was no way he could turn that down, the thought of you and him alone in the house with no distractions. He knew he wanted it but he wasn't sure if you did. if you were just doing him a favour because you felt bad, but he decided to push his paranoia to the side and smiled at you softly with a blush on his cheek, nodding. "I'd like that, if you're okay with it"

"ahh perfect! we are gonna have so much fun! we can watch the notebook too if you want to, or maybe cook or play or just" you pause for a second or two, not wanting to creep Isaac out with your sudden excitement. "we could just.. chill you know?" You looked up at him with a smile.

The two of you walked to your house, as Stiles has already left with his jeep, and while you were walking you felt Isaac's hand brush against yours until he took it in, intertwining your fingers together. you could feel how his hand shakes softly and you knew his stomach was probably flipping, he was a nervous wreck.

You held his hand confidently the way home until you reached it and opened the front door for the two of you. After walking in, you turned to Isaac and smiles. "do you wanna stay in the living room, or go to my room? or we can even cook something!" you asked excitedly.

"Your room...?" He asked hesitantly. Your room was usually off limits, that's where you go to relax on your own, away from the pack. He couldn't deny how much he wanted to be there with you. But part of him knows it won't end at just being in your room. Not that he had a problem but that he was worried from Scott's reaction if he knew Isaac was in his sister's room alone in the house. Scott and Isaac were best friends and Isaac didn't want to risk it, but he still loved you.

you saw the look on isaac's face as he started to look overwhelmed, and more anxious than he was, so you decided to cool it down. "I mean it's okay but if you don't want to that's fine. we can sit in the living room" you shrugged, leaving the decision for him to make as you looked at his eyes.

Isaac nodded slowly, looking at your lips then your eyes. "your room" he said softly and carelessly. He wanted to be with you alone. he didn't care what scott would think, he didn't care what the whole pack would think, he only cared about you and being with you, he wanted you.

you smiled and tilted your head for him to follow you. you walked past Scott's room until you reached your room then you walked to the bed, After taking off your shoes, sitting on the bed, then patting on the space next to you for Isaac to sit on.

Isaac followed you to your room, closing his door behind him. His heart skipped a beat when you asked him to sit next to you and the only thing he could think of is how nervous he is. he looked at you and he thought you look so vulnerable, sitting alone waiting for him to join you, so he took a few steps, trying to regulate his breath before sitting next to you. He was so close and nervous, slowly turning his neck to look at you.

"so.. what would you like to do?" you asked softly, trying to make sure he's not uncomfortable.

Isaac looked at you and for the first time he has walked in the room, he didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to kiss you and see what happened but he didn't want to make you pressured, and he didn't want to risk kissing Scott's sister, he was the leader of the pack, so he let the silence between you linger before he decided to break the ice.

"can I be honest with you?" he stressed.

"of course, I won't judge" i nodded in reassurance

Isaac struggles to speak so he leans closer to you. He just wants you to understand him, he needs you to know how he feels, what he's been thinking of, but it's hard for someone like him, someone whom emotions always were rejected. He took a deep breath and leaned closer as his eyes fluttered between your lips and eyes then he opened his mouth to speak but he failed so he looked one more time at you before smashing his lips on yours as he moved one hand on the back of your neck as the other ran over your back to your hips, pulling your whole body into his lap while you froze in shock before pulling him closer, cupping his cheeks while you kissed him back with the same amounts of passion.

After a few moments he pulls away, and looks at you in shock, he had expected everything other than you kissing him back.

"I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have kissed you and if scott finds out he's gonna kill me and-" you cut him off pulling him in another kiss, slowly pushing him to lay down as you move on top of him.

"Scott doesn't have to know" you whispered pulling him in a deeper kiss that made him forget everything.

he was in a daze as he pulled away from you. "you look so beautiful when you kiss me like that" he said softly with a soft smirk that caused you to blush.

He smiled softly as he gently ran his fingers thorough your hair. "you're so beautiful you know? it's just so hard to focus on anything else when we are like that, when you're with me. We can take this as slow as you want"

you pulled him for a kiss in response, breaking it as you smiling against lips, and he moaned softly, slipping his hands under your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

"i want this. you. Right here, right now, But I also don't want to hurt you so tell me what you want, darling." he whisper in your ear as his breath hit your neck, causing you to shiver.

"i want you, please" you whined and pulled him into another kiss as your tongue begged for entrance in his mouth. he let out a soft involuntary moan, as his caresses on your back got faster. His tongue danced with your and he began to grind on you, making you feel the hard bulge in his jeans that rubbed your throbbing pussy, until you pulled away from the kiss breathlessly, pushing him up by his chest, reaching to his shirt, playing with a soft fabric slowly. He sat up on his knees in front of you between your legs, taking off his shirt. You looked up at him, slowly placing the balm of your hand on his chest, tracing your finger over it to his stomach. He let out a low groan while he watched you trace your fingers over his chest, his muscles tensed under your touch.

"you're killing me honey" He whispered, moving closer to you as he kissed your neck slowly, then he sat up again as his hands found their way between your legs. Should undo your bra, or maybe start with these pants?" he teased, and sprung his claws out, moving them swiftly above you, tearing off your clothes.

"i loved that set" you pouted and he smirked

"i'll get you new ones" he pulled your clothes off your body, tossing them away on the floor with his shirt.

He smirked when he saw the blush on your face when you looked away, leaning down to your neck. "don't be shy baby" he whispered, before tracing kissed down your collarbone.

you moaned softly, moving your hands to caress his back softly and he let out a sigh against your skin. His hands found your thighs as he rubbed them slowly, kissing lower and lower. His kisses and nibbles reached your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, swirling and sucking around it while he groped the other one with his hand, pinching the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger teasingly.

"I love you, so much" He showered your stomach with smooches and pecks, until his mouth found your slit, running his tongue through your wetness, humming in satisfaction. "so wet baby" he flicked your clit with his tongue as you struggled to answer him back, running your fingers through his hair as you pulled them gently. He took one of his hand, wrapping it around my waist to keep me down while he slid a finger in you with the other, slowly and gently, causing you to moan softly.

he sucked your clit harder making you pull his hair tightly, causing him to moan which vibrates against your pussy as his fingers go faster, feeling you clench around them, sucking them in. "Fuck Isaac" you whined. "i'm so close" you whispered, wondering if he even heard you, then he confirmed as he added a finger in, moving his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching you out as you pull his hair tighter. "Isaac!" you warned, and he understood as you reached your climax, coating his fingers with your cum while he kept his gaze on you then he pulled them out, lapping at your pussy hungrily, taking in your juices.

"you're so sweet baby" he moved up to kiss you as you taste your own arousal. He pulled away from the kiss and you bit your lip, panting for air and you moved your hand to his head, pulling him back down to kiss you, you couldn't get enough of him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

hope you guys liked this 🎀

[aphroditelovesu]

How many children would Yandere historical Men wish they had? If the fem-reader wanted five or more children. What would the historical Men reaction be?

Characters- Edward Seymour, King Henry V, Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, King Henry VIII, Charles Brandon, Lorenzo De Medici and Francesco Pazzi?

Hmm... I guess it really depends but I would say they would all like to have lots of children with her but they know it's quite common for a woman to die in childbirth so they would keep that in mind.

❝divider by: @cafekitsune

Edward Seymour ♡

Edward would like to have at least two children, both sons. He would like to have daughters with his beloved, but he would prioritize sons to keep his family in power. If his wife wants to have more than five children, he would be fine with that. The more children you have, the more tied and dependent you will be to him.

King Henry V ♡

Henry would like to have several children with his beloved, mainly because he is a Monarch and needs to keep his royal lineage continuing. If his darling wants to have more than five children, that's great! Henry would probably like to have at least ten children. Even though he is terrified at the thought of you passing away in childbirth, he still wants to have a huge family with his darling.

Napoleon Bonaparte ♡

Napoleon wants to have at least one son to also maintain his power through a male heir. He doesn't have a specific number of children he would like to have with his darling, at least one is certain. But if you want to have more than five children, Napoleon will be fine with the idea. The more the merrier, right?

King Henry VIII ♡

Henry wants a male heir above all else and when you give him that, he won't worry about the idea of ​​having more children unless you bring up the idea to him. Henry would be so caught up in the joy of finally having his dream son that he wouldn't think about his next children. However, I imagine he would like to have at least one more son, just in case. Henry would be worried about having more than five children because he fears losing you but he won't be against it if you want him to.

Charles Brandon ♡

Charles really isn't worried about the idea of ​​children at the moment, he's more focused on enjoying his wife and spending as much time as he can with her and he's well aware that he would have to share his attention with a child. However, he knows that he needs to continue his lineage and that's why I see him wanting to have only two children, three at most. He wouldn't like it more than that and mainly because he knows how dangerous childbirth is and this man can't lose you under any circumstances.

Lorenzo de' Medici ♡

Lorenzo wants to have many children with his darling and there is no discussion about that. Eight children at least, that's what he wants. Coming from a powerful family, I don't see him putting the Medici's power at risk because of the lack of descendants. Although he doesn't want to risk your life in childbirth, he will still have many children with you. Lorenzo likes to see you pregnant because it just affirms that you belong to him.

Francesco Pazzi ♡

Francesco would like to have a considerable number of children with his darling. At least four children, but he's not opposed to having more if that's what you want. He loves you and wants to make you, so if having more than five kids is what you want, who is he to judge? Francesco just needs confirmation that it won't kill you. He couldn't bear to lose the woman he loves.

[kiame-sama]

The Yandere OCs having a nightmare where they harm/kill reader

Warnings; yandere, yandere relationship, violence (nightmare), death (nightmare), reader centered gore (nightmare)

Walter Woods;

A body lay open on the operating table, the constant drone of an EKG whining out the flatline. Another patient lost because he wasn't good enough to keep them alive. Another patient gone because Walter let them down.

The sorrow weighed heavily upon his shoulders, a harsh reminder of his failure squealing in his ears as his eyes slowly trailed up the lifeless figure. A painful stab seemed to rip into his chest as he realized it wasn't just any lifeless corpse laying there, it was your lifeless corpse.

- Walter wakes with a startle, enough to disturb you from your peaceful sleep. He is breathing hard and shaking due to the nightmare that was still fresh in his mind. Walter is on the verge of tears at this point.

- "What's wrong?" Your voice is what snaps him out of the stupor he is in and gets him to return to the present. Truly, he is just glad you're alive and that his horrible nightmare was just another nightmare.

- "Nothing, love. Nothing's wrong." He will hold you close and kiss your forehead, relieved that his nightmare was not reality. He is likely going to stay awake for a while on account of the fright he received.

Evan Rothchester;

The satisfying squish of human flesh beneath his hand met his blade as he sank the knife deep into the person's stomach. Red blood seemed to burst forth like a fountain where the knife was sunken in. Another body for the pile that was Evan's life.

He sighed as he wiped the blood from his skin, using a hand to rip the black hood off of his victim's head. Evan's blood ran cold when he saw just who it was beneath the hood. Your eyes slowly drifted up to look at him, the betrayal clear in your expression before your eyes rolled back. The second your body went limp Evan rushed forward to catch you, to try and undo what he had done.

It was too late.

Your lifeless figure leaned forward against his chest, laying limply in his arms. How could he? How could he have done this to you? How could he live with himself?

- His eyes shot open as he sat upright with a small shout of fear. The shout quickly raising you from your slumber as you also shot up, wondering what the problem was and why Evan responded in such a way.

- "What's going on? Are you okay, Evan?" You are clearly concerned as you question your Mafioso lover, startled and disoriented by the sudden way Evan woke the both of you.

- Evan is panting and looking around in confusion, but as soon as he sees you next to him and safe in bed, he pulls you close into an almost crushing hug. He is shaking and gasping as he holds you close, trying to confirm to himself that you are still there and there is no way he could have done such an unforgivable thing to you.

Carlos Vargas;

Carlos stares in a bored way as his hapless victim squirms within their binds, seeming to struggle for freedom. Just another day feeding the animals at his sanctuary and today it was human on the chopping block. The body tumbled and fell down, landing with a sickening thud as the tigers closed in.

He was about to turn away to continue his work when a familiar voice screamed out to him, "Carlos, please!"

The voice made him whirl around in time to see the tigers close in, your frightened and pleasing eyes begging for him to help you. He rushed forwards towards the fence, but there was no way he would reach you fast enough. Your cry was cut off sharply as fangs closed around your neck, silencing you permanently.

- "NO!" Carlos wakes with a loud yell, trying desperately to stop his beloved tigers from killing his dear darling. The shout startles you awake just as quickly, trying to find whatever it was that Carlos had screamed about.

- As soon as it dawns upon Carlos that you are not being mauled by tigers and it was all a nightmare, he will actually begin to cry. He will hold you and kiss you and just try to calm himself before anything else.

Jackson Locklear;

- Once Carlos calms down, he will insist on holding you while the two of you return to sleep. Even if you get back to sleep, Carlos will be awake for a while yet, trying to stay calm and keep himself from having another nightmare.

Your limp body lay in Jackson's trembling arms. His body wracked with sobs as he tried to get you to not leave him. There was nothing he wouldn't give or do to have you come back to him.

Your eyes stared in an empty way up above you, as if looking to the stars you would no longer see. Though you had once been so full of life, you didn't respond to anything Jackson did in an attempt to rouse you. It seemed there truly was no saving you.

With your death, Jackson's world crumbled away into nothingness, swallowing him whole into despair. The awkward way your body lay only made your tragic fall all the more heartbreaking to poor Jackson.

"I'm so sorry.... Please, don't leave me... Please..."

- Jackson wakes slowly, sobbing and trying to take a moment to breathe despite the absolute sorrow in him. He can barely hold himself together as he gasps and shakes in distress and anxiety. It felt so real to sit there and hold you in his arms, leaving him disoriented in a way he had not expected.

- You woke to the sound of heavy and heart wrenching sobs, seeing him sitting with his head in his hands. Jackson is near inconsolable at that moment. In his mind, he may as well have actually done it despite it all being a nightmare.

- Only when he actually takes a moment does he register the sound of your voice as you try to soothe him despite not knowing what was wrong. Upon hearing you and realizing you are still alive, Jackson will immediately grab you and hold you close. He will be so thankful that it was just a horrible nightmare and not actually reality.

Orion Medici;

Another snoop digging through his drafts looking for ideas to steal. Soon to be yet another body under Orion's belt. He had always prided himself on his quick wit and his even quicker skill with a blade.

The figure turned around only to have their throat meet the sharp end of his blade, a clean cut from one side to the next suddenly adorning their soft skin. What Orion didn't expect was the shocked and familiar face he was met with.

The knife fell from his hand with a loud clatter as the world seemed to pause, your throat gurgling where you had been cut. He barely had time to catch you in his arms as you convulsed, trying to stop the rapid loss of blood despite the clear futility of your efforts. Orion was no better as he tried and failed to staunch the flow, hyperventilating as he made continuous attempts to help you.

"Wh- Why, Orion..?"

- Orion woke with a sharp gasp, the blankets balled in his fists and damp with cold sweat. It takes him a moment to orient himself despite being somewhere very familiar to him. He will look around in bewilderment before seeing you and feeling his entire being relax with the sheer relief running through him.

- You are still asleep and resting peacefully beside him as he gets his breathing under control, watching you sleep for a moment. It has felt so real to him that he honestly thought he had killed you, and that thought alone made his heart ache with an intense pain.

- He will be able to return to sleep, but he will likely hold onto you rather tightly just to make sure you are still there with him. He will continue to hold you even while he sleeps, effectively trapping you until he wakes up again and releases you.

Hahne Yamare;

Hahne was a good right hand man. A damn good one. He would be damned if he didn't carry out Evan's orders to the exact, and this was no different. It was just another target he had to eliminate and Hahne would make sure he followed through.

The crack of a rifle went off, the body not too far from him collapsing to the ground with a pained wheeze.

Hahne was no monster, despite his more than monstrous actions. He would not leave the soul lying there to die slowly and in pain. But as he drew closer to the figure, a hollow thud seemed to resonate in his chest when he saw the frightened and dying eyes that he had once loved staring into.

"No! No, this wasn't supposed to happen!" He cried out as he picked up your body, watching the light fade from your terrified eyes, "please! I didn't mean to, please!"

Despite his desperate begging, there was nothing Hahne could do as the light faded from your gaze and left you laying there with an empty stare.

- Hahne jolted as he woke, falling from the bed in a confused panic. His panic woke you, making you look over to where he was on the floor in concern as he struggled against the blankets. When he finally managed to free himself, he was panting and frantically looking around for any sign of you.

- When he does finally catch sight of you, he wraps you up in his arms, trying to just hold you and make sure you were truly there with him. The thought of having been the one to kill you nearly drove him mad, and he needed to know you were alright.

- When he calms down he will tell you about the nightmare he had and he may start to choke up just a bit. The only way he can get back to sleep is if you hold him and let him hold you until he manages to drift off again.

Amira Woods;

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Amira cries out as you collapse into her arms, the clear safety shank she keeps on her person protruding from your neck. She can't help but focus on the way that it seems to move and twitch with every beat of your heart, spilling more and more of your precious lifeblood.

Truly, she thought you had been a stranger trying to grab her, not her beloved. She was in tears as she held you, trying to keep the bleeding contained despite having hit your jugular. If she could just get her brother Walter on the phone-

The choking cough that rattled from you broke off that line of thought as your eyes began to roll back, a clear sign that you were not long for this world.

- "Wait!" Amira wakes up with a shrill scream, tears pouring down her face as she practically flies out of bed and onto her feet. Her sudden awakening startles you awake as well, looking around in a panic to find whatever has set Amira off. When you don't see anything immediately, you look to her for answers.

- When Amira takes a moment to take a breath, she realizes that she is standing in your shared room and you are completely safe in bed. She will start crying all over again as she looks to you to comfort her following the nightmare that still held dominion over her mind.

(Didn't realize I pushed post, so I will reblog with Julie, Kaya, Hada, and Ollpheist added on)

[gulnarsultan]

Yandere Lorenzo De Medici and Yandere Cosimo De Medici with Mistress reader who pregnant

◇ Yandere Lorenzo De Medici and his pregnant mistress reader.

~ Soon after Lorenzo meets you, your fate is sealed.

~ This man definitely makes you fall in love with him with his intelligence.

~ He takes you as his mistress. He doesn't care what his wife and others say.

~ You will truly live like a Queen and be treated like one.

~ You will have the best food and care.

~The best doctors in childbirth will take care of you.

~ You will be very pampered financially. You will have the most expensive dresses and jewelry.

~ It will legitimize every child you give birth to. Children will also have the best life.

◇ Yandere Cosimo De Medici and his pregnant mistress reader.

~ When Cosimo saw you, he decided that you were meant to be together.

~ Thanks to his cunning, it is not difficult for him to make you his mistress.

~ He spoils you financially to the fullest.

~ If you have art or any other hobby, he will support you.

~ He is very careful about your health until birth.

~ You will live in a luxury castle with women enough to be in the same Palace or as a neighbor.

~ Every child you give birth to will be legitimized.

~ He won't listen to anything his legal wife or anyone else has to say about you.

[hiatuswhore]

Viper IV

Reputation: The Princess of Conde, said to be a lover of games. Perhaps chess, a game requiring one to think many steps ahead and anticipate your enemies next move. For every missteps brings you closer and closer to defeat.

VIPER III: Versatility

YOU NEVER KNEW FRENCH COURT TO BE SO DULL. The privy council drolling on about issues they will never resolve. No plots or ploys, you settle on a ceasefire allowing the Queen Consort a period of reprieve. You busy yourself with strolls with Sebastian and feigning interest in many high Lord's pursuits of your hand. This does not stop the Queen Mother from focusing on your every movement. Nor are you a fool to the servant in your ranks who reports to her. All information they receive perfectly curated to your liking.

Sitting at your vanity, you huff like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Whispers containing scandals so minuscule you are certain the histories will write you as the first to truly die from boredom.

“Dahlia, any news on the parchment I sent to my brother?” You ask. The shake of your handmaiden’s head garnering another huff. “He wants me to come home, but I have far too much to do here.”

“Princess, you must stop fussing so I can finish your hair,” Dahlia’s silvery voice and gentle touch gaining an apologetic smile. The light tapping of your chamber door stills your handmaiden, your head turning toward the door. Dahlia crosses the room. Opening it, she bows respectfully before lowering her gaze and stepping aside.

“My King,” You rise to your feet, a grin on your lips as you curtsy. Francis chuckles, shaking his head as you ask what you can do for him.

“My wife seems to believe you have a vendetta against her. I am no fool of the deep care you hold for your brother. This afternoon you will invite her on your evening stroll, just the two of you,” Your head tilts to the side, a wide smile taking your features, hiding the thorns beneath rosy-colored petals.

“While I admit I was not very fond, I thought to have clarified my intentions with your wife. Very well, we will have a lovely evening at once,” Clasping your hands in front of you, stepping forward, you peck his cheek. His nose grazes your cheek as he turns to meet your gaze.

“We are not children anymore. You know this is not appropriate,” His words leave him in a breathy whisper. You wet your lips, offering a warm smile.

“I meant nothing untoward, Francis. You are dear to me. I would never have you jeopardize your honor,” Only run it off a cliff, the heat of his skin warming your own at the proximity. His head tilts forward so slightly you nearly miss it as he stiffens. You pull away first, brushing past him with a knowing smirk.

The long corridor from your chambers holds a sea of faces that matter little as you make your way to the kitchens. Fetching to chalices of wine, your smiles large as Mary and Catherine’s eyes land on you. They stand in the throne room, speaking quietly amongst themselves.

“Queen Mother. Her grace. My apologies for the intrusion. I hoped to steal the Queen for a stroll. I even brought us wine,” You say, holding out the chalice. Silence dances between the three of you. Both Catherine and Mary eye the cup in your hand warily, the smile on your lips wicked. She knows she cannot refuse. To do so slights the Princess of Conde--another slight against the De Bourbon family, her kin-in-law.

“Of course, Princess,” Mary swallows thickly, her voice wavering as her fingers brush your own against the cup. She glances at Catherine a final time before joining your side. You wear a kind smile, your airy aura filling the halls. You ramble to Mary just as you do with a dear friend, noting how the chalice in her hands has stayed there.

“What a lovely day. Isn’t it lovely?” Stepping outside, you turn to Mary, her strained smile and stiff posture fueling your amusement. Catherine stands with Francis on the second-floor terrace watching the two of you.

“Very lovely indeed,” Mary mutters, following your toothy smile up the terrace. She’s greeted with differing expressions. Francis wears one of encouragement as Catherine stands as though a guillotine awaits.

“Mary, you are not very good at this game. You went to Francis of your fears, rightful fears, but now here we are. Let me help you understand your particular situation. This is a game of reputation. I very publicly invited you to wine and a stroll. The part the people do not know is that it is at the King's behest. Now imagine if word spreads, you refused my efforts for peace after all you brought upon my brother? What a lecherous cunt,” You scoff, speaking barely above a whisper, shaking your head, a smile painting your lips. Mary’s eyes narrow, her shoulders falling at her side. Stepping into the trap before it was even set.

“I am the Queen. You are my subject in my court!” The ferocity of her tone unlike anything you ever expected of her. You would have commended her in another life, but now your smile falls as you stumble back. Mary’s frown distinct as your eyes well with tears. You shift your gaze down sharply, cowering like a frightened child—the antithesis of your nature.

“My apologies, your grace. Will you excuse me?” You curtsy, wiping the faux tear from your cheek. Mary’s eyes bounce around the open grass field. Ladies and Lords alike lounge around different fixtures watching the exchange. Realization cuts through like a blade to skin, your sorrow not reaching your eyes. Oh, how this game suits you.

“Princess,” Mary breathes out, watching as you fiddle with your fingers. The comely and giving Princess standing before the aggressor, the cruel Queen.

“My apologies, your grace. I know our histories are—” You cry out, the approaching mop of blonde hair arriving with impeccable timing.

“Mary, a word,” The clench of the King’s jaw clear despite the mask of calm he wears. You offer a respectful curtsy heading back toward the castle with your head low. Inside, Catherine greets you with a sneer; taking her hands, you smile.

“I detest you. You wretched girl,” Catherine squeezes your hands tights, to onlookers a warm exchange between family. The Queen Mothers' smile as warm and deceitful as your own.

“Oh, Catherine. To hate me is to hate yourself. I learned all I know from watching you,” You lean forward, kissing both her cheeks. The softening of her glare was not lost on you before excusing yourself. Like wildfire, the word spread of your exchange; invitations of tea and strolls pouring into your chamber like water to a glass.

By noon, you receive word of a private family supper. You naturally assume it to be the workings of Francis but still consider others. While Mary navigates your game as well as a blind man at sea, you await Catherine to guide her hand. You wear a courteous smile as the hundredth invite for tea arrives, your empty promises of soon arranging a meeting becoming almost instinctive.

“(Y/n)!” Your eyes widen at the squeal. Claude rushes down the corridor, her arms wide open. She nearly tackles you to the ground in a hug, squeezing so tight it may very well suffocate you.

“Thank god! This place is so terribly boring,” You exclaim, stepping off to the side. Claude smirks. “I was so upset to learn I had just missed by mere hours the day I arrived.”

“I hear my brother's wife made you cry, and I know for certain that is not the case. You must tell me your machinations at once,” Claude whispers, leaning in close. The two of you stop at the corner, appearing like giddy children.

“That would spoil the fun dear cousin!” You say, crossing your arms and mirroring her smirk.

“The Scottish Queen is doomed then, but that must wait. We have much to catch up on,” Claude hooks her arm in your own. She leads you down the hall, her animated rambling taking the whole of the conversation as you listen intently.

“You slept with Ser Harlin?” You gasp, stopping in your tracks. The French Princess bit her bottom lip, grinning like a madwoman. She spares you not a single detail of her exploits with the pagan warrior, a burly man of few words.

“How have you not? I know, no Lord who looks like him. We must have our fun before our brothers decide to try and marry us off,” Claude says, shrugging your shoulders, your matter-of-fact tone dripped in certainty, “I believe my brother knows if he forces a husband upon me, that poor soul will not make it to our marital bed.”

“Well, if Francis makes me marry, can I count on your diligence in my indoctrination to widowhood?” Claude teases. Nodding your head, you stand straight up with a playfulness to your tone, “I swear this oath to you in perpetuity, my princess.”

“I see you two muck about once more,” Francis greets his sister with a warm hug, his eyes meeting yours with a long pause. Claude’s gaze bounces between the two of you, chuckling shamelessly.

“All these years and nothing changes. Well, you two clearly need a moment. Mother!” Claude calls out, skipping away before either of you can say a word. You bite the inside of your cheek, certain you will not lead this conversation.

“I wish to apologize on behalf of Mary,” Francis says, studying how you render your face expressionless.

“It’s clear the Queen does not seek forgiveness, but who I am to ask that of the Queen. I do not believe she likes me very much. I think I should soon leave,” You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. A huff leaves him, taking the bait as easily as you threw it.

“You will do no such thing. I want you here, so that is where you shall be.” Francis taking your hand in his own, the closeness intoxicating—inviting far too inappropriate for the open hall. You wet your lips, watching his eyes travel to them.

“Of course, my King.” The batting of your lashes and low hum of your voice garnering a deep sigh. Francis closes his eyes, rolling back his shoulders as he releases your hand. “Are you unwell, your grace?”

“You very well know what I am at this given second,” He tilts his head, giving you a knowing look. Leaning in closer, your pointed stare and lopsided grin doing the young King no favors.

“You are King, Francis. It is well within your right to reach for what you want. Who you want,” Placing your hand on his shoulder, you trail your pointer finger up the side of his neck and back down at a tantalizingly slow pace.

“I will not be my father,” Francis says, disappearing into his own mind before you. Your hand travels up to his cheek, pulling him back to the present, testing your limits with your thumb tracing his bottom lip.

“You could never. Far too honorable. Too good,” You draw your words out, the slow whisper and dark eyes evaporating those around you from view. The few who linger in the corridor pretend as though you both are not the center of attention. You lean up, pecking his cheek once more, resting your cheek against his, your breath tickling his ear. Your eyes on the dark mop of hair down the hall, “I am your first love. Mary shall be your last, it seems. Your grace.”

You step back, noting how he stares at you, the adoration clear as day. Curtsying, you brush past him. At the end of the hall, you stop shoulder-to-shoulder with the Scottish Queen. Her glassy staring forward as though someone has commanded it. You do not spare her glance on even turn to address her, your face now one of stone.

“Please, Princess. Ask anything of me, and it is yours.” Mary swallows thickly, her eyes on her husband's back as he continues down the hall. When he turns the corner, she turns to you, your gaze still forward.

“Your demise.”

MASTERLIST

[littlweirdostuffwritesworld]

The golden sun

Summary: Many things have happened to the marriage of Francesco de Pazzi and Andrea Sabini, the speech of Jacopo de Pazzi and the appearance of the most talked about woman in Florence, Tamara D'Amato cousin of the bride.

"I can't believe Francesco de Pazzi is getting married," Giuliano said

"So it's true that a good woman can change you," Botticelli joked

"Apparently" Lorenzo took a sip of the wine looking at the new couple, you could see that they were in love.

"Our poor Lorenzo is jealous," Giuliano said

"What? Jealous of Francesco? Never, I'm just happy that he's no longer influenced by Jacopo Pazzi"

"Of course, it's not the fact that you feel a little lonely"

"Not at all, if I want to marry someone I can choose any lady" he laughed

"Sure, what about the woman mother introduced you?"

"Clarice Orsini, Carlo was unable to pessuader her and she became a nun" her brother looked at him for a moment and it seemed that he was about to explode with laughter.

"Don't try to laugh, and let's talk about you instead"

"There is nothing to talk about, because you are doing the same thing" Lorenzo was about to reply when their sister arrived.

"Bianca where were you?"

"With the bride's cousin Lucia D'Amato" she explained and pointed at the young woman

"Do you think the d'Adamato will show up?" Botticelli asked

"If they show up this will be the most remembered wedding in Florence" Giuliano commented, across the hall The Pazzi brothers were talking.

"Congratulations brother" Gugliemo Pazzi was really proud of his brother, even if he did not want to say it, he did not expect Francesco to fall in love, and he had gotten into oace with the obsession of the Medici

"Thank you but if it wasn't for you I don't think I'd be here to toast"

"You did the same thing with me and Bianca, you are my brother this is the least" it seemed that the Pazzi family was going through a period of rebirth and prosperity.

While everyone was celebrating Jacopo Pazzi entered it seemed that he had drunk too much he was drunk.

"Congratulations to my nephew Francesco" he applauded

"How come you are all silent, I thought this was a wedding" he sobbed

"And it is, Messer Pazzi you can stay as long as you want" Andrea said approaching the man

"No more titles we are family now" he smiled, a trail of chills rose on the back of the groom.

"Do you think he has something in mind?" Guglielmo whispered

"I'm going to see" he no longer needed to muster up the courage to talk to his uncle.

"Uncle I'm glad you came"

"I would never miss my brother's son's wedding"

and the man goes away and approached other nobles.

"My love are you okay?" he said

" Yes why?"

"Jacopo Pazzi is never happy for anyone, and now that his most precious pawn is dispossessed he is afraid that I will be against him"

"Honey don't worry, the only thing I can tell you is to follow your mind and your heart, and if you don't know what to do, talk to your brother and your wife" she advised.

"Yes" the major domus interrupted the couple

"Madonna Pazzi, Tamara D'Amato has arrived" he announced

"Well thank you, honey you will meet my best friend"

"I can't believe it, Tamara D'Amato is not ashamed, she shows up here after having canceled her engagement" a noble woman said

"And with that scar on her face who will marry her?" they snickered

"I advise you to ceaseyour gossiping, Tamara D'Amato is still part of the D'Amato family if she wants your heads, she will have them, if you insult Tamara, you insult Venice and Florence" Lucrezia Donati said, and two women stopped talking

The most talked about woman in Florence entered the room and brought a stir and shock with her.

"Congratulations cousin, may you have a prosperous life together," she smiled

"Oh Tamara, your presence here is the best gift" Andrea hugged her

"I would never miss my cousin and best friend's wedding"

"So the rumors are true, she is really a beautiful woman" Bianca said, without taking her eyes off the woman, she had seen noble women but there was something about Tamara, maybe it was her red dress or the long braid that gathered her hair almost to the floor.

"It's not just a beautiful face, his father Leonardo D'Amato has always believed he was raising his children despite being a son or daughter, the woman excels in economics, Latin, Greek, Italian and helps her father" their mother Lucrezia said

"She seems to be a great woman" Giuliano commented

"A woman worthy of being a wife" the mother winked and left

"Mother will never change"

"If it weren't for that scar she could be the most beautiful woman in Florence …" Botticelli said

"A beautiful woman is always a beautiful woman" Lorenzo interrupted

"Are my eyes deceiving or Lorenzo is quite interested in Tamara D'Amato?" the painter teased

"No, but the D'Amato family is a powerful and rich family, our father and Leonardo were about to make an agreement for the sale of silk" he explained, he continued to look at her and it was clear that even with the "scandals" she was charismatic woman.

The woman was approaching the group, the closer she gets, the more Lorenzo looked at her, he had noticed that she had a mole near her left eye.

"Good evening family de Medici and Signor Botticelli" she greeted

"Lady D'Amato is a pleasure to meet you this evening" Bianca greeted shyly, respected the woman

"I'm sorry for your father's death, he was a good man, may he rest in peace"

"I knew that our fathers were friends, my father is getting old unfortunately things have left certain things pending"

"We, their children can continue what they were doing"

"Interesting, I hope we could" before leaving the music began

"Dama would you like to dance with me?" he offered himself and gives her a little grin and accepted her hand. The music started and everybody was ready to dance

"Messer Lorenzo"

" Yes?"

"If you wanted to talk about business, it was enough to talk to my brother Benedetto, there was no need to invite me to dance"

"I didn't invite you for business, I'm just a man who can't resist a beautiful woman" Tamara laughed

" Is this how the famous Lorenzo de Medici steals the hearts of the ladies of Florence?" she smiled

" Steal? No my lady a thief steal, I'm a keeper, the heart of the lady I will love is more precious than diamonds and gold" he whispered on her ear.

" So you are poet too?"

" I'm a man who loves the art, I heard your family supports many artists" he said

" Yes my family support artists, from painters,writers, poets and musicians. House D'Amato is not only selling tessile but we make clothes out of them" she explained, and with the last twirl the dance ended, but their hands was still intertwined.

" I would like to see you" he blurted out

" I mean I would like to see more of your family products" he corrected himself blushing

" Of course our shops are always open" she smiled, bowed and walked away. Leaving the young Lord following her with his blue eyes.

[icarusignite]

What fandoms do you write for or would you be open to writing for? And are there any specific characters you'll write for? Any limitations or topics/content you won't?

Hii great question actually, I realized I didn't make a list lol.

Requests are always open btw!

Fandoms:

- Game of Thrones

- House of the Dragon

- The Last Kingdom

- Medici

- Bridgerton

- Criminal Minds

- Ateez

- Lockwood and Co.

- Percy Jackson

-Harry Potter (golden trio era and tom riddle era)

-Hunger Games

-Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows

-Dead Poet's Society

- any other media that I hyperfixate on.

I'm not super picky about characters, so send in a request, and I'll let you know! As for content as well, I'll write pretty much anything at all (no explicit smut tho). I love it when yall send prompts or some sort of synopsis you would like, definitely makes things easier. Drabbles, oneshots, series, and headcanon requests are all always open.

But I do ask that you be patient with me. I'm also working on several long fics and it might be some time before I get to your request.

All my works can be found in my masterlist 💜💜

Would love to hear from you, send in those asks!

[ejfiction]

Masterlist part 2

List of prompts I’m working on (not all though) in a random order:

1. Winx- Church bells (silrah) - forgot about the existence of this, found it recently and am now excited about it (Written now: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46338238)

2. Winx- fitting in (Farahxreader mentor/comfort relationship) - Like this but struggle with reader POV’s

3.Winx- no more drinks (Silrah) - Smut prompt that I’m struggling with as I’m still new to it...

4. Winx- Frying pan (silrah) - Light hearted, slightly funny prompt that I’m nervous about writing, I’m not great at writing funny things

5. Winx- you, me, our little family 7 (FarahxRosalind) - Have so many ideas and have to condense them

6. Winx- Save me don’t let me stay alone 5 (silrah) - I have to write more words than I currently have to make it resemble a chapter

7. Winx- Student soulmate (bloomxfarah Romantic) - Never thought about this ship before but it should be interesting

8. Winx- Sun’s up (silrah) - Smut prompt, still learning to write this stuff, I’ve read badly written stuff and I don’t want to be that person

9. Reign- Shiver (cathry) - Basically finished, in the editing process

10. OUAT- Unbreakable (Dragon queen) - I love this ship and I’m still finding the guts to write something for this fandom

11. Big shot - sweater weather (Ava/Louise) - Never tried this ship before and am new to the fandom, it should be interesting

12. Big shot - I spy (Harvyn) -Cute little prompt but I keep losing interest even though I find it interesting???

This entire list might change in a few days but at the moment these are the fics that I’m looking at more right now.

[kraekat29]

Heyyyyy Bestie! I’m back w more requests!

so abt the one ask I sent w/ the Ghostface duos x reader, any blurbs/thoughts you’d wanna share for our beloved duos?? <3

Oof okay-

In either scenario you have to watch out for extreme jelousy, especially if you cling to JJ more than John B, he wouldn't be the problem. You'd have to watch out for Ruby coming after you.

It would be the same with the girls as well, but just know both duos would protect you fiercely ( maybe even pass you around a bit).

Because once your theirs? There's no letting you go, ever.

[rosewaterandivy]

Epilogue | for once in my life

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C: 5.7k

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, yearning, Tuscan summers, a flashback or two, a wedding, and my usual filth™️

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me while I worked on an ending for our two beloved idiots. 🥺 Truthfully, part of me put off writing the epilogue simply because I didn’t want to let Trouble and Steve go— they’re so near and dear to me! But, all good things must come to an end and I hope I’ve given them a fitting one. Thank you all for reading along and sharing your joy with me, it’s been incredible to experience! 💜💜💜

Series masterlist | Series Playlist | trouble will find me (for Trouble, most ardently) | rebel without a clue (for Steve, with love)

previous

The distance was difficult, only mitigated by the positively unreal Tuscan summer. Though the university was in Bologna in the Emilia-Romagna region, since your classes centered on Dante, you along with a few other students, called Florence your home away from home for the summer.

The sun shone bright and hot against the ancient stones of Palazzo Medici Riccardi, and felt good against your back as you lazed in the garden and courtyard on a rare day off from combing through medieval texts in jam-packed libraries and dust motes floating through the air.

Crossing the bustling street you popped into your local gelateria only to be greeted with an exuberant, “Bella!” from Alessandro behind the counter. “Finally you grace us with your presence,” He teases, already scooping out a serving of arancia rossa sorbetto for you into a cup.

“Grazie,” You say with a smile, taking the sorbetto from his outstretched hand. “Had a slow start to the morning is all, Sandro.”

“Certo, I know how it is,” He says with a knowing wink. 

To be fair, the slow start to the day was warranted, given the stress-induced dream you had last night. There you were, minding your own business, thinking about Steve and the voice note he’d left you earlier, and the next thing you know, your brain decided a trip down memory lane was warranted.

“But what do I do about the dress?” Your voice is choked, tongue stumbling over the words. 

It hangs in your closet, mocking you. A pink dust bag with an elegant calligraphy card that lists your former wedding date and ex-fiancé’s last name. Robin’s fingers graze the zipper on the garment bag, fingers slowly settling along the pull. 

“You could try it on?”

She says it as if she wishes she didn’t have to, as if the next time you would put on the wedding dress would be for the alteration appointment which you had already canceled, along with everything else.

Truthfully, the day you found the dress wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. Sure, you’d looked around online and at a few boutiques with Nancy, Robin, your mother, and would-be mother-in-law. Nothing struck your fancy though, each dress you slipped on had something wrong with it— too tight, too loose, too many embellishments, not enough embellishments, too heavy...

It was Steve who suggested the boutique, actually. One of his mother’s friends had a daughter who’d gotten her dress from a place in Indianapolis and said the service and selection were both top-notch. So you went and made a day trip out of it; Eddie and Steve would drop you and the girls off at the boutique and hang out in the city for the day.

Though, they really did try to weasel their way in to the appointment. 

“The fact that you won’t let us join you is misandry.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “No, it isn’t, Eds!”

“Okay,” he relents, turning around to face you in the backseat, “Maybe not misandry, but definitely discriminatory. Dudes just wanna have fun!”

Steve laughs, pulling up in front of the boutique, waves to your mother who’s waiting on the sidewalk. “Y’never know,” he teases, “Could need a second opinion in there. Especially once they open the champagne.”

Eddie squawks at that, “You get to try on dresses and drink booze? I’m offended I’ve been left out here.”

Robin opens the backdoor with a roll of her eyes, “No boys allowed, dingus.”

You follow suit, giving Steve a small smile, “Thanks for driving us.” 

His gaze softens, eyes meeting yours, “Happy to help. Now, go find a stunner in there for us, will ya?”

With a shake of your head, you bring yourself back to the moment. Sitting on the floor of your former home, moving boxes and tape littering the floor ready for you to pack up the pieces of your life. You look to Robin again, she’s unzipped the garment bag entirely revealing the bodice and skirt of the gown.

She watches you thoughtfully, “I mean, just to see if you still like it? That way we’ll know if we need to pack it or sell it.”

Sighing, you wipe your damp palms against your thighs and stand up. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Okay.”

Between the two of you, you managed to wrestle into the dress. Robin securing the delicate straps as you adjust the cups and situate yourself. The door creaks open to reveal Nancy, her eyes bright with interest. 

Robin gives up with her attempts to fix the zipper and numerous buttons on the back, steps aside for Nancy to intervene.

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Robin says, voice soft. “It looks amazing on you! Same as the day we found it.”

“It’s one hell of a dress.” Nancy agrees, the zipper pull sliding home. “No one would say no to you in that.”

Your laugh comes out as a choked thing, wet and raspy. You wipe your eyes in an effort to prevent any tears from falling. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t even have to see the dress to know that he no longer wanted you.

“Thanks, guys.”

Feeling brave enough to look at the mirror, you pause in perusal. And sure enough, it’s a stunner. Delicate lace embellished the corseted bodice, waist nipped just enough to amplify the bust. The skirt flowed down in layers of silk and tulle, the lace accenting the frothy peaks and valleys of it. 

Turning, you noticed the low-dip of the back, highlighted by the beginnings of the train. It was a gown meant for a cathedral wedding, a long aisle as you walked toward the altar. A beautiful wedding dress for a wedding that no longer was. 

It was getting difficult to justify keeping it.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, bursting into the room slack-jawed, “Your tits look great!”

Robin smacks him, “No boys allowed, dingus!”

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t you know what a closed door means?”

He grins, “I think we know by now that, no, I clearly do not.”

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, you turn to Nancy eyes wide. “Nance, the door–”

She shuts it quickly, keeping a hand on the knob. Robin and Eddie stop their bickering long enough to share a meaningful glance. You fist the full of the skirt in both hands and motion for Robin’s help in getting the dress off.

“Uh.” Steve says, voice muffled through the closed door, “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing!” You’re quick to respond, trying and failing to keep the panic from your voice, “Just packing up some stuff.”

“Riiiight.” He drawls, “Then do I hear Eddie in there talking about tits?”

“Hey man,” Eddie says in his own defense. “I just wandered in here, I know nothing.”

“And why is the door locked?”

Nance’s eyes go to the doorknob as it jiggles in her hand. “We’re trying to figure out what to do with the dress,” she says in a breathless rush.

If looks could kill, Nancy would have dropped to the floor. You narrow your eyes at her and turn with a huff.

“What dress— t-the wedding dress?”

“Yes, Steve.” Robin sighs. “That’s the one.”

The doorknob swivels again, “C’mon, just open the door guys. Eddie’s seen it and I am officially the only one who hasn’t.”

“No!” You shout.

Everyone stops to look at you, eyes wide. 

“I mean,” you sputter indignantly, stepping out of the dress and throwing on your overly large t-shirt. “S’not a big deal, I’ll probably sell it, anyway.”

Robin and Eddie maneuver it back into the garment bag with a zip just as Nancy steps away from the door, gaze soft taking in your drawn face.

Steve stumbles in soon after to find you, pants-less, the hem on your shirt grazing your bare thighs, furiously taping boxes closed and scribbling in sharpie.

“Nothing to see here!” You say, stumbling into your bike shorts, tugging them back up. “No siree, nothing at all.”

His chest falls slightly, looking from you to the pink garment bag and back again. Robin catches the minute change in his expression before he’s picking up a box and carrying it out into the hall, not a word to be said about the dress.

And all that runs through your mind is a frantic buzz of ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress.’ Never mind that you were no longer a bride and Steve was never your intended groom. Any rational know-how kicked from your thoughts in an echo of your hammering heart.

Why your exhausted brain conjured up that particular episode, you had no idea. The instance was promptly forgotten, the dress stored at your parent’s place, and Steve never brought it up again.

Thank God for that.

Maybe it was because of Nancy and Jonathan’s looming nuptials. He’d popped the question not long after Nance moved in, and it had been full-steam ahead since March. The ceremony was to happen at the end of summer, just as your intensive was wrapping up. 

She’d nearly had a coronary when you’d expressed your doubts about being able to attend.

“I’m not getting married without you Trouble, so sweet-talk those profs into letting you sit your exams early and get the fuck back home.” She sighs down the line, “There’s only so much of moping Steve we can take— Eddie is about ready to strangle him.”

You huff a laugh, “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s held out this long.”

“Yeah, she agrees dryly, "We all know you two'll take any excuse to get Steve in a headlock.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” You scoff. “That punk needs to be put in his place.”

You’d taken up Nance on her no-nonsense advice and your professors had graciously allowed you to submit your final papers early in order to make the wedding. Unfortunately, you’d miss out on a few of the celebrations like the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner— your flight would be landing just as the festivities began— but, Nancy and Jonathan had agreed to help you surprise the gang.

For all Robin, Eddie, and Steve knew there was absolutely, positively no way you could get out of your scheduled final exams. It sucked, as Robin rightfully pointed out, that you’d have to miss your best friend’s wedding but they all understood.

Steve was more hangdog about it than ever.

“Thanks Sandro,” You call out, plastic spoon in your mouth as you quickly step out the door, leaving a €5 note on the counter before he could stop you with a, “Your money is no good here, bella!”

Your phone buzzes in your bag, ducking under an awning your scramble through your well-worn tote bag to find it, throwing your sunglasses on in the process.

“Hey Fratty light,” You greet with a smile, spooning another cool helping of blood orange flavored ice into your mouth. “Do any good keg stands lately?”

Steve’s laugh nearly eclipses the warmth of the sun on your skin, a surge of heat building low in your stomach.

“At least I didn’t fall off the keg.”

“That was one time!” You scoff, jogging across the street before an aggressive Vespa can mow you down. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you give the driver the ombrello gesture and shout, “Vaffanculo!”

He chuckles at your outburst, “Tell ‘em babe!”

“I’ll have you know, I stuck that landing Harrington and, it was quite the crowd-pleaser if I recall.”

“Sure Trouble,” You can nearly hear the eye roll at your expense, “It was the landing and not the fact that you were wearing those panties.”

The fact that he remembered the pair in question has you reeling, you nearly run into a fellow pedestrian in your dazed state.

“Anyway,” You say, cleaning your throat. “What’s on the sad boy agenda for today? Getting into divorced dad rock, any Matchbox-20 or Creed in your future?”

“God, you’re awful, and no, thanks very much.” 

You hear a door slam and a car engine turn over. Someone muttering about Steve’s ‘utter lack of taste’ in music— Eddie, without a doubt.

He sighs down the line, pulling on your heartstrings because you miss them all so damn much, but Steve most of all.

“Just helping with some wedding stuff.” His voice is softer, sadder knowing you won’t be there to celebrate with them. “Boring shit, you know.”

You hum in agreement, “Well I’ll let you get to it. Don’t let Eddie flirt with too many bridesmaids!”

“You got it, chief,” Steve says, “Take care of yourself babe.”

“You too, big boy.” A huff of laughter at hearing his scoff, “Byyyeeee.”

And maybe it happens like Nance said it would, things just fall into place when they’re meant to.

After a flight from hell— a toddler would not, for love or money, stop kicking the back of your seat on the evening flight from Milan to Berlin, and you were stuck in the backmost row from Berlin to Indianapolis on the red-eye. It was a miracle you rolled up to your parents' house in one piece. You’d arrive at the venue to get ready with the rest of the bridal party where you’d hopefully be able to keep Robin sworn to secrecy.

You weren’t above putting her into a headlock, if it came down to it.

Dress, shoes, and make-up bag hastily thrown in your mom’s car, you drove to the venue just outside of Hawkins. A lovely little outdoor property owned by a local family, groves of trees and the finest collection of wildflowers you’d ever seen— fitting for Nancy and Jonathan.

You arrive in a slightly mussed frenzy, arms weighed down with your bridesmaid dress and a weekend bag that did fuck-all to protect you from the sudden onslaught of summer rain. Cursing the permeability of Indiana summers, you walk swiftly toward the bridal cottage.

The squelch of your shoes and drops of rain accompany you across the tiled path. Breathe. A steady inhale pulls the comforting scent of petrichor to your lungs, tucked safely behind the cage of your ribs. A shift in the light, a cloud makes way for the sun to shine once more; you scramble for the club masters perched on your head, impossibly tangled (of course) in a damp nest of hair. 

Pried free, you rest the glasses against your nose bridge and stroll to the door. Before you can wrestle a hand free to knock, the door swings open to reveal a tipsy Vickie and bemused Nancy. A smirk settles on your lips as the two shuffle you into the cottage, tutting at the state of your hair and general tardiness.

“It is a wedding y’know,” Vickie teases grabbing the canvas bag from you. “Could make an effort to be on time.” She drops a wink your way before absconding toward the vanity table to deliver your belongings elsewhere.

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes, taking the dresses from your arm. “Ignore her,” she soothes, “Seems the title of temporary co-M.O.H. has gone straight to her head.” She shoves a flute of champagne into your empty hand and leads you inside. “But you’re here, so the title can rightfully fall to you.”

“And how is the blushing bride?” You smile, taking in her cool, calm demeanor.

She’s notoriously hard to ruffle, so you’re not surprised to find Nancy the same as ever, albeit a tad buzzed from the champagne.

“Fuck a duck!” Robin shouts, colliding with part of the doorway as she takes the corner to quickly in her haste to get to you, having heard your voice from down the hall. She trips falling into you in a quasi-hug that’s mostly all elbows jabbed into your ribs. 

“Walk with dignity, you overgrown toddler,” You laugh sipping some champagne, wrapping your arm around her in a proper hug. She buries her face into your neck with a smile. “And before you even ask, no you cannot, under any circumstance, tell your emotional support Steve about this.”

You feel her frown before she pulls back from you, “I can keep a secret y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it Bucks, just wanna surprise him is all.”

“He has no idea? Oh shit, this is gonna be good.” She says with a cackle before trotting off to help Vickie with her dress.

“Alright Wheels,” You announce polishing off your flute of champagne, “Let me at it, where’s the hairspray?”

After furious coating of L’Oreal’s finest to her hair after you’d secured a few flowers in place, you cough in a haze of hairspray and sagely advise, “That’s good for three slow dances, two fast ones, and one Lambada…” You warn, capping the canister to set it aside. “But if you wanna mosh, I’d suggest another coat.”

Nancy laughs at the suggestion, “I think we’re good.” She checks your handiwork in the mirror with a smile, “Can I ask you something Trouble?”

“Shoot.”

She turns to face you and lowers her voice to a whisper while the other bridesmaids are busy with false eyelashes and zipping up dresses. “Have you given any thought to what I said back in May?”

Ah, that conversation. The one where she (lovingly) warned you off of Steve if you weren’t certain about your feelings for him. Your big, overwhelming feelings. As if you could forget them, even thousands of miles away.

“You know,” You begin, voice pitched to meet hers, “I had a bit of time to think over the summer, no distractions, just me and the Tuscan sun.” 

She stands to slip into her dress and you follow to assist— it’s a beautiful number, all minimal sleek lines and fitted to her like a glove. Nancy is gorgeous, but Nancy on her wedding day is otherworldly. She dutifully turns for you to button up the back and arrange the train for photos.

“And?”

Your eyes meet in the mirror, hers curious but not prying, yours wide, reeling from it all— the pro/con lists, numerous conversations with your mom, Eddie, and Nance, the letters, emails, voice notes, calls and texts from Steve. Somehow, some way they all amounted to this:

“You remember my twenty-first birthday?”

“How could I forget,” She chuckles knowingly, “Spin the bottle, right?”

A nod, you busy yourself smoothing out the few lines in the silhouette of the dress. “And a bit of liquid courage.”

There is no good reason why the eight of you should be doing this. Back at the loft after a night of carousing and bar-hopping, imbibed enough complimentary birthday drinks that spin the bottle seemed like a good idea. Even if the bottle in question is some ridiculously expensive high-roller shit swiped from Mr. Harrington’s study.

You’re warm, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder and whispering in his ear— goading him about kissing someone. Steve hopes it’s not you.

The glass mouth of the bottle spins to a stop in front of Jonathan who groans loudly before clambering over the whoops and hollers.

“Lay it on ‘im Munson!”

You tip backwards and shriek in glee when their lips touch. Eddie returns to your side with a roll of his eyes, pokes your knee with his finger. “Pucker up, buttercup. You’re next.”

Argyle cracks his knuckles, taps his chin thoughtfully, “Alright chica.” He says, “Hope you get Nance or Vic. Make it nice and steamy up in here.”

Steve hopes it’s him and not Nancy, selfishly. The rest of them be damned, if the bottle lands on him he’s going to frog-leap over Eddie, shove him to the side and kiss you good. If it lands on anyone else, he may get arrested for murder tonight.

There’s really no excuse for it— the longing. Best friends since childhood who drifted apart because, as always, he was a dumbass. Kissed you all of one time after the Homecoming dance freshman year and that was barely a peck.

The bottle lands on Vickie.

Slightly tipsy and putting on a show, you bite your bottom lip and lean in, slanting your mouth over hers with a soft sigh. The sound sinks into Steve’s gut and he groans in agony— jealous you’d rather kiss his ex or the redhead rather than him. Nevermind that the bottle was nowhere near landing on him.

“Keep it PG, ladies!” Robin calls, “This is taking way too long!”

“Bucks, shut up. I’m trying to take a video.” Nancy slaps the phone from Eddie’s hand.

Having had enough of it all, Steve stands. “Not that this isn’t how I want to spend my night…” he mumbles, hands patting his thighs. “But I’m peacing out.”

You look up, distracted, and bottom lip a little wet from Vickie, eyes hazy from the long night of celebrating, and quirk your head. “You leavin’, Stevie? Wan’ me to walk you?”

“What— like he’s gonna get lost from here to his room?”

Steve is going to get arrested tonight for murdering Eddie. Tries to keep his cool, regardless.

“S’okay birthday girl, I’ll be fine. You have fun.”

You hop up anyway, a bit blundering in your step, and grab his hand to yank him forward. “C’mon… I gotcha.” Fortified with liquor, you tug him along, turning a corner and chattering about how as much as you appreciate that expensive whiskey, you’d rather have a beer. There’s nothing better than some pretzels, beer, and a movie.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry.” Your hand loosens before you pull it away, self-consciously.

“For what?”

“I know we haven’t been, like, close for a while now. I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Oh. The realization dawns on him now, like a crash of lightning— you think he’s guarded… but he’s only been reserved for your sake.

He calls your name, followed by a murmured, “C’mere for a second.”

You lean against his bedroom door, dazed but curious. Steve steps forward until you’re nearly chest to chest, back against the wood. Your mouth opens with a nearly inaudible gasp, but he can see your pulse kick up in your throat. “Yeah?”

"You remember our first kiss?" He waits for you to nod before continuing. "I think I owe you a do-over."

Confusion flits across your face, a solitary brow quirked up in interest. "You wanna mulligan my first kiss, like... seven years after the fact?"

He ducks his chin in embarrassment, skin flushing with heat. "Yeah, I mean, if you're open to it?" He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles, "I just think you deserve better."

You bite your lip in thought, and Steve wants nothing more than to shrivel up and die— but then, you nod, and before he can think better of it, he takes his chance.

Purposefully, Steve tilts your face up fingers, trailing along your chin and jaw, thumbing the full of your bottom lip. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, all whooshes and erratic beats, almost enough to drown out the words that fall from his lips.

And then, the perfect genius that is Steve Harrington leans down to close the distance between you. Satisfied that your face is tilted just so, his hand sweeps back your hair to cradle your head as his lips descend to yours. 

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in world— like it isn’t past three in the morning and you’re about a minute from slipping under. He kisses lazy, slow, and sublime. Presses you closer to him, an arm winding around your waist to pull you from the wall. More, kissing—tongues and lips and teeth— more of that touch you’ve only dreamed about and you want to kick yourself for missing it, for even daring to fantasize when the real thing is so much more.

Your palms are on his chest, pawing at him for leverage, struggling to refrain from bucking your hips up into him like you so desperately want to do. Steve pulls back with a contented sigh, and you’re surprised there isn’t a string of saliva strung between the pair of your for all the swapping spit that just occurred. There’s nothing but you and him. His gaze, so tentative and sweet, meets yours briefly as he stands back hands shoved quickly into his pockets.

“I meant something like that.”

Your mouth tugs at a corner, as if you could laugh or cry. Or smile. 

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle, brandishes a small, hopeful smile, and runs a hand through his hair. 

You nod. And it’s enough.

“I–I think I’ve known for a while.” You admit sheepishly, looking for any last-minute adjustments that need to be made before the precessional. One hand grasping her train, you follow Nancy toward the door. Taking a shaky breath in, you say, "Guess some part of me has been in love with him since I fell off the fence and into his backyard that first summer."

She stops short and turns back to you elated because she knows the story all too well. Steve doesn't get drunk enough to talk about it often–- the man has a wooden leg, hand to god. But once in a blue moon, it'll happen: how the new neighbor's daughter nearly busted her ass sneaking back home way after her curfew, too buzzed on shitty wine coolers and reeking of weed to realize that she'd fallen on the wrong side of the fence.

Hastily, Robin thrusts a bouquet of flowers into Nancy’s hand. Just before the band starts up, Nancy gives your hand a squeeze and advises, “Sometimes what’s meant for you comes back, Trouble. Don’t let it slip by, okay?”

Steve is just looking to survive the day, he’ll be grateful to get through, honestly. 

He was beyond bummed you couldn’t be there for Nance’s wedding and that he’d be sitting with her cousin instead— she’d talked his ear off during the rehearsal dinner last night about her current rewatch of Sex and The City. He’d never been so relieved to be pulled into bridal party duties by Eddie than he was that night.

And, to top it off, you weren’t answering your phone. Logically, he knew you’d be in exams for most of the day but you normally sent him a text or voice note once you woke up or before you made it to class for the day. 

He’s pathetic. Eddie forced him to leave his phone in the groom’s suite and now he feels phantom vibrations from something that isn’t even in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he lines up ready to escort Vickie and mentally preparing himself for a detailed recounting of the havoc that Samantha’s absence has caused the SATC franchise from the Wheeler cousin.

“You know,” A lazy, familiar voice drawls to his right, “If I was a riptide, I wouldn’t take you out.” An arm loops through his, comfortable and intimate. 

But no— it couldn’t possibly be…

“Hey, Harrington.” You say, quietly, knocking your hips to his, casually holding a bouquet in your hand, all easy smiles and warm touches. When Steve finally does turn, he blinks a few times to confirm that you're not some hallucination.

Because you’re here, impossibly, you’re home, and everything is finally right in the world.

You reach over to straighten his tie, the alexandrite ring gleaming on your right hand and catching the light.

“How did you—” He stammers, bereft of language.

But then there’s that smirk he adores. “Some of us are stealthy, y’know. Like a ninja.”

“Oh, fuck me right in the mouth.” He laughs loud and bright, a few people turn back in their chairs to look.

You sputter briefly as the precessional begins, hand lighting on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Uh, that can certainly be arranged, Harrington.”

In that moment he knew, with a certain sense of finality, that he had no choice but to love you; all his love and, if he’s being honest, fear, reflected there in your eyes.

The ceremony is beautiful, of course, and the reception is now in full swing. The new Mr. and Mrs. Byers shared an adorable first dance to “At Last” by Ella Fitzgerald, which nearly had you tearing up before Steve twirled you out onto the dancefloor. 

“Hey, good lookin’,” He says with a smile so sweet, it almost makes you weak in the knees. 

It’s a slow song, something to get the couples up and out of their seats. Over his shoulder you spy Robin and Vickie making goony eyes at eachother while Eddie and Argyle stumble around both trying to lead the other— idiots.

“Hi, Steve.” You reply, eyes making their way back to him. “Y’know, they say you should never trust a man who can dance.”

“And why’s that, honey?”

You shrug, “Dunno. Apparently they’re all heartbreakers or something.”

Steve, thanks to his mother’s needling and his father’s need to keep up appearances, could dance. He’d escorted many a debutante, including yourself, during Cotillion. You can still hear Savannah’s nasally “Did you know that five out of six debs marry their escorts?”

But, then again, she was also drinking from the fun flask at the ripe age of sixteen. So, do with that what you will.

He spins you easily, like it’s nothing, and before you know it you’re back in his arms. His brow is furrowed in thought, but what he could possibly be thinking you hadn’t a clue. So you continue to follow his lead across the dance floor and silently thank Mrs. Harrington for forcing you and Steve into those dance classes way back when, even if he stepped on your toes and you retaliated with an accidental elbow to his ribs— knock-kneed teens the pair of you.

So much has changed since then.

The music pauses, as someone announces that the bride will toss the bouquet. You go to find the bar, but Steve promises he’ll come back with a drink for you instead and then Eddie is hustling you toward the crowd of “single ladies.”

“Eds, no.” You attempt to swat him away, but he’s having none of it. 

“Far as I know, you and Harrington are fuck buddies. No declarations,” His eyes fall to your left hand, “No ring. Beyoncé would insist, sugar.”

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.

But not even your sixth sense could explain how you’d ended up catching the bouquet. Especially with a vodka and tonic in one hand and standing at the rear of the gaggle of gals gathered for the event. Didn’t even want to take part, far more interested in finding the coat check room and seeing how long it would take Steve to blow his load once you finally got your mouth on him.

So it’s a surprise, either luck or Nance’s killer aim, when her bouquet lands in your hand, the ribbon wrapped stems falling neatly into your palm just as you turn to shout something at Eddie behind you. Catching Steve’s knowing smirk and hearing Eddie’s piercing wolf-whistle, you give him an exaggerated wink before tossing back your drink. 

It’s not long after that, a few more spins around the dance floor, some cake, and more liquor, tasteful toasts from you and Argyle, fond farewells to the newlyweds and bags thrown into cars for a quick getaway, that Steve tosses you— bouquet in hand, over his shoulder and dips out of there. Ignoring Eddie’s teasing of Irish exits and Irish twins, he sets you on your feet again to lean you against the car and kisses you positively stupid. 

But it’s not a surprise when Steve finally asks you the question he’s been dying to for nearly the entire summer on the drive home, Nancy’s bouquet resting against the dash as you toe off your heels.

“Hey mind-reader, how long did it take?”

“Hmm?” Pleasantly sleepy from jet lag, your mind struggles to spark a fuse of comprehension. Steve raises a solitary brow in interest. 

"Whaddya mean?" You mumble out between stifled yawns.

His hand rests on your leg while he drives, big and warm, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. Steve, bless him, won't press you on it, but he also wouldn't have asked something so casually for no reason. He's crafty like a fox when he wants to be.

You take a breath and let yourself really think about it. If you’re taking the question seriously, which you damn well should, he deserves an explanation. Hesitantly, you remind Steve of the near fiasco with the wedding dress back at your old place. He nods at your rambling, how guilty and scared you felt at shutting him out. 

“So, yeah, between the moving-in playlist and me being bat-shit terrified of you seeing me in a wedding dress,” You summarize, fingers finding their way to his once more. The warm glow of the streetlights cast shafts of light through the windows. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, Steve Harrington," You conclude with a smirk.

His eyes widen in realization, “Oh, so that’s what you were apologizing for before left for Joshua Tree.” An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. “You’re so stupid.”  

Back at the loft, fumbling hands in elevators lips spit slick and ruddied, Steve bats away your grabby hands with an exasperated huff as they light upon his chest. Nearly dropping his keys when they find a better way to occupy themselves.

Once inside, he presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collarbones and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs, kicking the door close, and instinctively pulling everything off.

He peels his shirt off and throws it onto the floor while you shimmy out of your dress. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the curve of your hips. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touches in months have jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you,” Steve calls teasingly. “First, how big did you think I was, y'know before? When you accused me of, how did you put it... harboring a fugitive?”

Your brain briefly short-circuits at that, mildly embarrassed. He laughs at your slow, owlish blinks while you formulate a response other than, "Well, I, uh..."

"Okay, okay," He drops a kiss to your brow, soothing your worries away, “Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.  

His pants are shucked somewhere near the bedroom door. One of your hands goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

"S'been a while, do you think you can take it?”

“Oh,” A smirk quirks your lips, hand scrabbling for purchase on his tanned skin, “I think you know I can.”

Later, after frenzied forays in tangled sheets and revelling in the afterglow, you place your hand over his chest, selfishly counting his heartbeats.

You breathe, soft and sweet, “Steve,” the sound of your voice a warm balm in the inky dark. “Steve,” You say again and kiss his neck, turning toward you on the rumpled bed he kisses you, as if he could ever get enough. 

“I love you.”

He pulls back, just enough so that you wrap your leg around his hips, sheet slipping off as his fingers trail up your thigh. Grazing the tip of his nose ever so lightly against your temple, you feel the rumble of laughter through his chest as it heaves against yours. 

Rolls you onto your back, legs falling open to cradle his hips while he holds himself above you, hair falling into his face, “Took you long enough,” he grins, kissing you again. Your cheeks, your jaw, your chin. “I love you too, honey.”

His love is heavy and you delight in the gravity of it as he slips his way back inside, your hands pulling him closer than anyone can ever or will ever get again. It feels fated— the way your body moves and his responds in kind.

Steve only keens your name in reply.

Spun clear out of your body in the haze, pure joy erupts from your mouth, hands scrambling for him, so woozy and giddy you can’t help it. 

So this is love, after all. 

Finis.

[kiame-sama]

I have a kinda wholesome request if you’re feeling up to it? How would your oc boys react after having a bad day seeing a cup of freshly brewed coffee plus cookies sitting at his desk? It also has a note that says “Hang in there! :)” from their lovely wife who was peacefully snoozing on the couch! I hope that would cheer up the oc boys!

Walter Woods;

- Walter has no idea what he did in his life to deserve you, but bless you and all you do for him. He can't put into words how much he adores you.

- Walter is a surgeon- one of the top surgeons in the country- and that means he literally holds lives in his hands. This puts some serious stress on the poor man and it isn't like the idea of having lives at stake puts him at any ease. Once he is out of one surgery, he is likely being called to the next. Some surgeries are routine and less than an hour, some take 12 hours or more to complete.

- Any ounce of kindness you give him means the world to him and he is so happy you think of him.

Evan Rothchester;

- Well, ain't you just the sweetest thing in the world? Evan finds it extremely endearing to find you thought of him and he will be joining you on the couch to cuddle and unwind.

- Evan lives with the constant threat of death always in the back of his mind and he can get fairly stressed with everything he has to deal with. The kindness you show him soothes him and truly gives him a genuine joy. He has always wanted a sweet lover to come back to at the end of the day and spend his evenings cuddling affectionately to unwind.

- Evan will be napping with you on the couch and he will be holding you tightly. If you wake up, he will hush you and tell you to go back to sleep while he holds you secure in his grasp.

Carlos Vargas;

- Carlos is ECSTATIC to see you were thinking of him. He will be taking pictures of you while you are asleep and he will coo over your sleeping form before he even touches the treats you give him.

- Odds are you are not alone on the couch and the ever loving house Serval- Mimis- will be lounging with you. Carlos thinks this is precious and will completely melt.

- He won't wake you, but he will sit and enjoy the coffee and cookies you prepared for him as he waits for you to wake up from your nap. The dogs will most likely wake you before he does, or the lions doing their afternoon roaring near sunset. He will greet you and kiss you affectionately when you do wake, thanking you for the kind gesture.

Jackson Locklear;

- He is going to cry happy tears. The kind of support and affection you give him will be enough to make him weep from joy at having you with him and caring so much about him. Truly, Jackson appreciates the gesture more than you will likely ever know.

- Jackson already holds you in very high regard because of you saving him from his loneliness and longing for a place in the world, he will only see the gesture as even more reason to obsess over you. He adores your kindness and he will savor every cookie and every sip of coffee he takes. If you ask, he will say he can taste the love you put into it in every morsel.

Orion Medici;

- Aww, Darling, how sweet of you! Orion is thrilled you took the time to think of him and prepare sweets for him, he finds it quite endearing.

- Orion was likely working on a new novel or editing chapters when his head started to hurt and his eyes began to strain. Stepping away when he is in full swing while writing is difficult for him, but if he knows you are ready and waiting for him to return he will likely be able to pull himself away faster. He thinks it is precious that you showed such thoughtful behavior towards him and took the time to do something nice for him.

Hahne Yamare;

- Wait... These are... For him?

- Hahne is used to being the one to do the nice things, not having nice things done for him. He will genuinely become a flustered mess when he sees the cute note and the prepared snack you placed for him. He thought it wasn't possible for him to adore you any more than he already did, yet here you were.

- Hahne appreciates the ever-living hell out of your sweet behavior and is thrilled that you think of him. He will try to repay the kindness however he can, even if it is something simple that helps you out.

[gulnarsultan]

Yandere Catherine de Medici who gets married to the Oldest son of Yandere King henry viii?

Catherine of Aragon and Henry viii had the third and only surviving son. The Prince was two years younger than Mary. He was the apple of his father and mother's eye. Even though Mary was born before him, Henry was the heir Prince. The prince received the best education of his time. He was good at riding horses, using swords and shooting arrows. Moreover, his character and good looks caused many women to fall in love with the Prince. When Henry and Catherine divorced, the Prince was very upset. He wanted to go with his mother and sister. But King Henry did not allow his son to abandon him. The years continued to pass rapidly. Meanwhile, Henry had two wives, Anne and Jane. Henry was very strict about ensuring that both his wives respected the Prince. Some argued that Anne's execution was due to a mistake she made towards the Prince. The Prince was now of marriageable age. A ball was held in the palace so that the Prince could choose a wife. Catherine de Medici was also at the ball. In fact, Catherine had heard of the Prince some time ago and had seen her at an event. Catherine had fallen madly in love with the Prince at first sight. By getting rid of other opponents, she managed to leave the Prince alone. Catherine managed to impress the Prince thanks to her personality. The engagement and wedding ceremony was held in a short time. Henry wasn't too happy about sharing his son. However, he knew that he had to remain silent in order for the lineage to continue. Catherine often began to alienate the Prince from other women. The prince couldn't even spend much time with his sisters and brother. Catherine tried many methods to get pregnant in a short time. Their marriage was blessed with nine healthy children. Catherine never allowed her husband to have mistresses.

[calistrae]

ville de l'amour. a trent alexander-arnold blurb

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x gn!reader

requested: yes

request: hii can i request reader and trent maybe in paris and he proposes under the eiffel tower in the dark?

warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, obnoxious lovey-dovey couple activities

notes: no proposal under the eiffel tower, simply because i personally think it's overrated, instead check out the luxembourg gardens and you'll see why i picked it as inspiration for this! tysm for requesting and all the love on my fics! 🧸🤍 (not proofread as per usual lmao)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you had no idea, what your boyfriend had planned for your holiday in paris, but his requests and suggestions had made you beyond suspicious of his plans.

why did he have the sudden urge to go to paris, despite having never shown interest in it? why had he suddenly asked you to dress up? why was he looking so formal when all you were doing was taking a little walk?

not that you were complaining. paris was beautiful and the man strolling through the gardens with you was a god. you could swear he was a divine being walking this earth. from the bottom to the top, he looked gorgeous, especially in this sunlight. what had you done to deserve this? to deserve him?

you never realized you were staring until his words brought you out of your trance. "you never realized you were staring until his words brought you out of your trance. "my love?" he spoke, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as he kept it in his own. "huh?" was all you could reply, having been torn away from your thoughts.

"what were you staring at?" he questioned with a wide grin on his lips and from that smile alone, you knew you'll never be hearing the end of it. he could read you like a book so you knew that he was probably aware of what you were thinking. "come on, tell me, babe. promise i won't tease you about it" he smirked and you both knew he was lying.

"it's so pretty here, trent" you said as you took the sight in, moving closer to him as you held onto his arm to avoid bumping into the large groups around you. the gardens were beautiful, truly. but there were a lot of people and this put both of you slightly on edge. your relationship had always been private, you rarely posted one another and you rarely appeared in public cozied up.

"only the prettiest place for someone as pretty as you," he replied with a gentle hum and the two of you attempted to remain serious but quickly failed when glancing at each other, bursting out into laughter. "that was so bad!" you exclaimed and he only nodded as he continued laughing. "i give you a compliment and you react like that?!" he argued back.

"that was the cheesiest thing i've ever heard, trent. we both know it was awful, don't try that one ever again." you told him and leaned against him as he guided you through the gardens, now having reached a more quiet, private area. "you love it deep down, i know you do." he hummed and smirked to which you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"i love you but sometimes i can't believe how i fell for you" you pointed out and chuckled at the offended expression on his face. he let out a joking huff and stopped walking in front of the medici fountain. "i was planning to propose to you just now, but you've just broken my heart. can't believe you." he mused but his tone was a clear indication he was only joking.

when you heard the word 'propose,' your eyes widened as you stood in front of him. "what?" you laughed and shook your head, throwing it back in disbelief as you glanced at the sky and took a deep breath. "what? i'm not kidding, my love." he chuckled and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

while you had been convinced he was joking, his words threw you into a frenzy, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. he had to be joking, right? there was no way he was being serious. you shook your head and looked him straight in the eye, however the playful expression remained on your face "stop playing. there's no way you were going to propose."

at this, he beamed up once again and within a single second, the man was on one knee in front of you. you felt like you had been hit in the face and you were sure your jaw was hanging open. "what are you doing, trent? get up!" there was no way this was real.

the look on his face could only be described as pure love and adoration as he took your hands in his and flashed that gorgeous smile you loved so much. "i'm not joking, love. with or without a ring, i want to be yours forever but i want to celebrate our love. i want you to be my partner in everything, whether it's a game or whether it's in life. i don't think i've ever felt more loved and i certinly have never loved anyone as much as i love you. everything about you is...pure perfection, really. i want to love you at your best, your worst and your everything in between. it sounds awfully cheesy, i know it does but i can't word it any differently because this is how i feel." he told you and kissed the back of your hand as he was holding it.

"you've shown me what love is supposed to look and feel like and i'd be a fool to not ask you to marry me. so, would you make me the happiest person in this entire world and marry me, love?" he asked as he pulled out a tiny emerald green box and opened it, revealing what must've been the most beautiful ring you've ever seen. it wasn't huge or flashy with a massive diamond but it was perfect, beautiful. you were in complete disbelief but quickly, you dropped down to your knees and smiled at him as you nodded almost frantically.

his smile only grew as his arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you in, burying his nose deep into the crook of your neck "i love you so much" he whispered as he held you close and you could swear you felt tears against your skin. but you weren't any better as you were in tears the moment he said he wanted to love you through every moment of your life. the two of you were never serious with one another but the look in his eyes alone told you that he wasn't kidding. you held each other's gaze for a few more seconds until trent cracked and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

"we should probably get up, we're kneelin' in the middle of a park and i think people are staring." he pointed out with a chuckle. as he helped you up, he pulled you flush against himself, the muscular pair of arms tight around your midriff. he nuzzled against your temple and pressed the gentlest kiss against your skin. you observed the ring with a small smile on your lips as he led you out of the park and in your gut, you had a feeling there was more planned.

[patukkaas]

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Black Dahlia x Fem!Reader

Fanfiction type:

Headcanons

Tws: a lil out of character, mentions of sketchy business aka murders and stuff. Hint of nsfw, and kinda short.

Requested by @ hellokittyloverrz on wattpad

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Confession

- Theres three ways she'd find out about you.

- one, you were working against her, you were working WITH her or you were one of the bunny girls, aka working under her.

- In every case of these you'd never find out anything BEFORE she straight up tells you.

- Because she basically flirts with every girl she fights against or even sees and the flirting would triple if you were one of the bunny girls.

- and again in every case of these she'd be the first one to even hint at anything becoming serious between you two.

- Which would be extremely hard to even catch onto.

- She'd be extra about the way she confesses to you, wouldn't go all out with it but wouldn't just "I love you" randomly.

- She'd have built up with it.

Relationship

- If you were working against her before then obviously you'd be pulled into the medici business, probably under Dahlia but who minds that, she'd treat you the best obviously.

- If you were just in general working with her, much wouldn't change but the fact she wants to spend more time around you.

- And if you were one of the bunny girls pretty much nothing would change.

- Dahlia's other bunny girls wouldn't really get jealous since they're all in a pretend realitionship with Dahlia already so they don't worry about it.

- She'd keep you very close to her at almost all times, she enjoys bloodshed but only when it isn't YOUR blood.

- Would get horny seeing you fight or kill anyone lol.

- Would also share her "Apple juice" with you.

- She'd definitely write you love letters even if she was with you the whole day.

- She steals you expensive jewels and other other stuff from her jobs because she thought they'd fit you well.

- Would love it if you became even more included in the medici business.

- She thinks it's more fun working if you're with her.

- Your mere presence keeps her extremely entertained, you must be interesting to have caught her eye.

- As a present, she'd give you blood red or black roses with the thorns still on them.

- Would get..very excited if you gave her a small glass jar necklace of your blood.

Break-up

- Would occur if you were high on morals.

- And if you didn't appreciate bloodshed.

- A break-up wouldn't happen if you just suddenly became boring, Dahlia takes a loong time choosing whose lucky enough for her love.

- Only reasons you two would break up are:

- 1. You have high morals (or pretty much any at all)

- 2. You weren't as "crazy" as her.

- 3. You tried to drive her out of the business.

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[hislittleraincloud]

You know what...

Fuck it.

Life is too short.

I just re-read that story of mine and it's too sweet to relegate towards DMs. I like their coupling, and I really liked this show. It appealed to my obsession about Renaissance Italy. Caterina Sforza is my spirit animal.

You like my writing? Then you have to familiarize yourself with the Renaissance. The Serpent Queen is/was a current show devoted to similar themes (so was the Medici show, but that was fucking awful compared to...), but the show I wrote for was Neil Jordan's Showtime show, The Borgias.

The big story was called 'Cardinal Pleasures', and it was about Cardinal Ascanio Sforza's illicit affair with Lucrezia Borgia (and there is no show canon for this, however it still can fit in canon quite well...and like all older men that I feature in my stories, I had/have a thing for grumpy Cardinal Sforza/Peter Sullivan 🫠).

I am

Yes, it's age gap (but Lucrezia is 17, I think, when they get together, and by then she's already been married off to and SA'ed routinely by her husband, Giovanni Sforza...and she has a child by the stableboy she had an affair with at the time). Ascanio was 40 when they got together, and the main story is not overtly smutty (and even the smuttiest part in the extras is pretty mild/tame compared to what I usually write).

I also wrote REAL smut with Cesare x Lucrezia (down at the bottom, the Bound By Blood tryptych...the second one is the smut). This is the real E/NC-17 one (Cardinal Pleasures rates an R for violence and sex/incest, but not really explicit sex). Their incest is canon, Third Season...they sleep together on her wedding night to Alfonso because Alfonso is too much of a little boy at heart, and Cesare had always been her bae since Season 1 (so...much...sexual tension...throughout the whole show).

I also wrote two screenplays for their Season 4, but all of my notes for the rest of it (as well as my other Borgia writings) were destroyed when my ex (and fkn heinous building manager) removed and trashed all of my belongings from my apartment when I was on a retreat in Rome. I had to get my fans to lend me money to rush back (I paid them all back), only to find the only thing left in here was my dog (and he was scared shitless in his open crate with nothing else around him). I didn't have the will to continue after the notes were gone, but maybe someday in the future, after a re-watch, I might be inspired. (I also never got to write the Civil War-era Borgias thing I was going to do...and that saddens me.) You can d/l the .pdfs of the screenplays from the link...a couple of actors from The Borgias featured in the scripts liked them on Twitter. 💀 I have but one typo in the second one. Hey man, I don't have Betas. I do everything myself in the end, even if I have someone read it over. And the first script has a non-script version/prose version. I didn't get around to doing that for the second script.

Unfortunately I can no longer re-watch on Netflix...they moved it all to Paramount Plus, which I don't have rn. If you do, and you like lush, dramatic, UNDERRATED period pieces, give it a watch.

Anyhoo, here's the direct link to Cardinal Pleasures. It's not a massive monster like Afterburn. Shouldn't take but an hour or so to finish if you're a fast reader, maybe more or less if you count the three extra birthday-themed fics I wrote for @brenli for her birthday. No idea what the word count is since it's only published here on Tumblr and not AO3.

Happy reading...hope you know some Latin 👹 (go grab your translator app).