#tpatd

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

For the dragon-themed ask game, I give you Storm because RAVVY. ⛈️⛈️⛈️

THANK YOU SO MUCH, MY DEAREST!! <3 The link to the ask game is here

I give this snippet especially for you. Crossover time! My Ravonna meets your Miraak. The girls are fighting!

~

“What did you just call me?” frantic, crazy green eyes fall on him like a hammer on steel. “Assassin?” she almost gags on the word. She feels sick. Maybe it is the dimension change, or maybe it’s the fact that this man has the audacity to call her the most despicable thing anyone could call her. The audacity of assuming such a thing, mere seconds after seeing her.

“Evidently not a successful one - ” but he is violently interrupted by the most powerful telekinetic spell he’s ever witnessed. She slams him to the wall, effortlessly. He looks at Jia in hopes that she can stop this madwoman, but his vision is quickly obscured by a wall, rising from the floor. A wall made out of pure magic straight from Atherius. It’s just the two of them now, and he’s afraid for once.

“Not a successful one, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are to judge me like that?” She gets closer to him. Closer and closer until her cold hand reaches his throat. “My dude, you messed with the wrong bitch. If I wanted to, I would have been the best assassin on Tamriel. Luckily for the entire world, I decided to destroy each and every assassin in my path.” She says through gritted teeth. Miraak coughs from the choking. “That’s right, I destroyed the Dark Brotherhood. I burned that fucking sanctuary to the ground. They’re despicable! They destroyed my life! I am capable of things you can’t even imagine. Magic that you won’t see anywhere else. So I suggest you drop this attitude of yours towards me before I drop your body into the fiery pits of Oblivion, brit.” She lets go of the chokehold and Miraak gasps for air. “So, please, for the love of all the Gods, never assume anything about me ever again!” 

“What did you just say?”

“To never assume any-”

“Not that. Before. You speak the language of the Dovah!”

“Maybe I do.”

He shakes his head, dumbfounded. Speechless. What even is this interaction? Who on Nirn is this insane woman? He furrows his brows from confusion. “Did… you just call me brit?”

“Maybe I did!” She says, a hint of insecurity could be heard from her voice.

“Why would you call me beautiful?”

“What? No, no, no, no. I’m pretty sure that it’s a … bad word.”

“It’s not. That’s literally what it means.”

“You’re fucking with me!”

“I am evidently not.”

“Shut up! Stop playing mind games! Miraak always calls me that.”

“I’m Miraak!”

“What? No, you’re not!”

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

ough in TPATD Miraak is half-Atmoran, half-Falmer. One person carrying and uniting the blood of two races that became enemies, that ultimately destroyed one another.

Jia is half-Nord, half-Imperial. One person carrying and uniting the blood of two races that are currently under an endless war, that are, too, basically destroying each other.

Miraak used to receive some weird looks from the Atmorans for his Snow Elf heritage, with his fellow dragon priests calling him names such as 'ghost' or 'paleface', because of the marble-white complexion he took after his Snelf mother.

Jia is quite frequently confronted with "aren't you a little short for a Nord?" by the Nords, and with "aren't you a little tall for an Imperial?" by the Imperials.

and yet, aren't they both living proof that before any hate, or any war, or any decimation of life, there was once love and unity? 🥺

[prue84]

Prince Dean

Fandom: Supernatural AU / BBC’s Merlin (canon era) AU Series: Dragoneyes’s The Prince and The Dragon Related fanwork: The Champion of Winchesterdom*

Prince Dean Winchester in Camelot.

Dean from @dragoneyes’s The Prince and The Dragon series - specifically to the never finished crossover with Merlin.

Edit: Who's the idiot who posted this not knowing the finale of a Supernatural spin-off series was up during the same hours so the manip would be drowned in the posts and go unnoticed?

———————————————————————————————

Something done in 2017. I was meant to place a circlet on Dean's head. The fic series that inspired this has been long since dropped, and I have no interest in further working on the manip. Releasing it as it is.

There's a companion manip, featuring Sam but that one needs a bit of cleaning up. Might release in the future. Or not.

———————————————————————————————

Tec stuffs (aka Behind The Manip) IDK. Too long time ago. I did make a quick attempt with the circlet before the release but, since it looked "wrong", I just gave up.

Credits Original pic from BBC's Merlin series, Season. Found at Merlin's Keep. Jensen Ackles, photo from February 2006 (might be part of a Supernatural photoshoot).

———————————————————————————————

Crossposted Livejournal: prue84.livejournal.com/95910.html Dreamwidth: prue84.dreamwidth.org/87429.html Deviantart: deviantart.com/prue84/art/Prince-Dean-952769306

[theimaginatrix27]

My Personal Approach to Fantasy AUs

I have received a number of comments on my Deep Space 9 Fairy Tale AU, Seven for a Secret, to the effect of "I love how you've kept everyone so in-character!"

I also recently sent a friend part of the first chapter of a prequel fic in the same setting, and they said they're not usually interested in AUs of this nature, because too often, they've seen characters written in ways that make them less recognisably themselves. But they did like my writing.

So I'm going to try and explain my process in a way that hopefully makes sense to everyone reading it. I'm absolutely not making this post to gatekeep fanfic, or to tell someone how to write their story, I'm just explaining what I do when writing a Fantasy AU within a fandom context.

For clarity, this post is about AUs where the characters were born into a high/epic/secondary world fantasy setting (I have heard all these terms before). It is not about charas being isekaied into fantasy settings for crossover purposes (that genre encompasses portal fantasy, doesn't have to involve the charas dying), though tbh I love those, too. Excellent fun. But the characters in those cases are still the canon ones, just being put in a situation. I actually plan on writing a series of DND campaign fics with the casts of my three favourite classic Trek series that are basically this premise, but that's not what I want to talk about today.

In a lot of cases, when someone has written a fantasy AU, the characters are changed so much that you could, theoretically, file off the serial numbers, switch out canon references and turn it into an original novel. This is also not strictly a bad thing—I've done it myself, and although that story never got finished, it paved the way for those that followed, so it's helpful in the creative process to recognise when you have enough material for an original spin on something.

However, for me especially, it is more fun to see and recognise the fandom characters, and then watch them navigate a story that is both unique and would not be the same without them.

Presenting Exhibit A: The Princess and the Dragon, a fanfiction for Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters, written by my dear friend, @kohakuhime

This was one of the first fics of this nature that I came across in my wanderings through the blighted wastelands of FFN—Kohaku's fics were very much an oasis in the desert, so refreshing and vibrant were they, but this was her big fantasy baby, centred around a ship we both loved, and rich with lore and magic and mystery. It was also peppered with canon references, and all the characters were kept breathtakingly in-character—I won't get into spoiler territory, but let's just say I could hear the voice-actors saying so many of these lines, they were so good! My bar for this type of AU was set pretty high in large part because of this fic.

To be quite fair, Kohaku has said she could probably file off the serial numbers of TPATD, change some of the components of the magic system and release it as an original novel, as the concept itself (again, avoiding spoilers by going into details out of respect for this friend and her excellent story) is a fun twist on a particular trope. But although there are many original elements, it still feels like a Yu-Gi-Oh! fic, because of all the grounding points woven throughout, and how familiar the characters are.

This fic was not the only story I found that helped shape my approach back in 2012—there were a couple other fics in the Dragon Ball Z archive on FFN that also contributed, but they were both written a long time ago and I'm not sure they'd hold up nearly so well today. One of them was a fairy tale retelling (well, a Disney film retelling, but it was really good from my perspective as a fic newbie!), and this plus some other—shall we say, less interesting adaptations in the Yu-Gi-Oh fandom inspired me to write the fic now known as Wild Swans of Domino, which I'm not linking here because I am in the process of editing it up to my current standards. Seven for a Secret is, in its way, a spiritual successor to WSoD, though I do intend to finish the latter (and the sequels I developed over the years). WSoD was my practice ground for developing the approach I wrote this post to explain, and it kinda shows in the current version, because I started out simple, and then my brain started generating lore and places for more canon references to go and the story got away from me. That—happens to me a lot.

My approach with this type of AU comes down to one major point: If I am writing a fairy tale adaptation (it's usually a fairy tale adaptation that starts this for me), or some other fantasy story in an alternate universe which these characters are, for the purposes of the fic, native to, then both they and the setting must have some familiar aspects tying them back to the source material. The characters, especially, must still feel like themselves, or you may lose readers' interest, because "Benjamin Sisko wouldn't do that!" or "Seto Kaiba wouldn't react that way in this situation! Stop making him quote the movie's dialogue, it sounds so contrived it is painful to read!"

... Ahem, moving on from bad memories of bad fics.

WSoD and Secret are both based on a fairy tale I already have an original story idea for (several, actually), so I don't need or want either of them to be unique enough to divorce them from their fandom origins. Therefore, while developing them, I have done/am doing my utmost to weave in as many threads from canon as possible within the boundaries of the setting, and have also done my best to preserve the characters' personalities. And according to those aforementioned comments, I'm doing pretty well!

To be absolutely fair, in both cases, the fandoms in question are either another form of Fantasy or as close to Fantasy as a Sci-fi setting can get (Sisko's an honest to the Prophets Chosen one, for goodness sake!). But I do believe you can do this with any character, from any setting, if you put enough thought into it.

And maybe that's part of why I don't see it around as much, because some (often younger but not always) fic authors can have a concept float into their head or sent to them by another fan, and bang out a fic in a week that hits all the points they wanted it to without too much brainstorming behind it. Whereas I, a perfectionist and possesser of an increasingly plot-tribble-infested brain, can't make a single plot decision without pondering it for several days, and fret over little logistical details until I'm purple in the face (probably. I don't have eyeballs and thence can't look in a mirror). But I still think it's doable for any character.

To do this well, you must consider what fundamentally makes this character who they are. What traits would you absolutely have to keep (aside from physical appearance in most cases) to ensure this character was familiar to the reader who clicked on the fandom tag and subsequently your fic. If you ran across Sherlock Holmes in, say, the Pokémon world, how would you know he was Sherlock Holmes? Why, he'd be solving mysteries, and doing so by analysing all sorts of details, noticing things others failed to, putting pieces together that formed a solution others wouldn't have even considered, because the majority of those puzzle pieces were overlooked! And he'd probably be skulling shuckle juice when he didn't have a mystery to solve. And obviously he'd be autistic.

Are you imagining it? I hope you are. Now imagine a character, or several, from one of your fandoms, that you love. Imagine what you love best about them, what makes them who they are, from your perspective. Now imagine a setting that's different from their source material—there are any number of AUs you could pick. Now, think carefully about how you would write them in this setting, while focusing on changing as little about them as possible.

In Secret, Ben and Julian are both princes (this is revealed in Chapter 1, I don't mind telling you). The Dax symbiont is a Fae being magically bound to Jadzia, who is a mage. Their personalities are still familiar to the reader. Miles O'Brien has barely changed at all, because he doesn't need to.

And there's the single golden rule: When writing an AU like this, only change as much or as little as you absolutely need to for your story to work. You can, of course, have fun with how you change things—just check out Innate Conditions and its companion fics by @tokidokifish for a DS9 example (Cardassians are shapeshifting dragons! How cool is that?)

I hope all this makes sense. And again, this is not an attempt to dictate how you, personally, write your stories. I do hope you at least give it a little thought, though, if you haven't already. Most importantly, have fun!

[kohakuhime]

It has been such a long time since I actually completed a fic, and it’s such a good feeling~

I know there’s other wips to complete (I see you Come Together and TPATD), but even just doing something like four chapter fic and completing it has made me so happy. It’s a serotonin boost I didn’t realize I needed :D

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

HOT NEW RELEASE

THE PRINCESS AND THE DEVIL by Naya V. is NOW LIVE!

#1ClickHere: https://books2read/TPATD

An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance

Once Upon a time I fell in love with a boy.

A boy who held my heart in the palm of his hand and vowed to protect me, to love me, always, and forever. With onyx hair, eyes the color of viridian, and a heart of gold, he was my only saving grace in this gilded cage.

Until the day he left.

Shattering my heart and leaving me to a fate worse than death.

On my eighteenth birthday, they promised me to a man I hardly knew. Swore me into a life in the Italian mob I despised. Until my fiancé turns up murdered before our wedding, prompting all hell to break loose in the dismal dwellings of Chicago's seedy underbelly.

Pain breeds chaos and chaos invites sin.

Now, as fate would have it, that boy I fell in love with all those years ago is back to reclaim what they stole from him. He's no longer the kindhearted boy from my past, he's now a man with a darkness in his eyes, and a heinous craving for blood and destruction.

He's the Devil, hellbent on the ruination of me, and my family.

This isn't a fairytale about a noble prince and a damsel princess. Our story is one of the Princess and the Devil.

A distorted tale of navigating life with my new husband.

The king of the underworld.

Azriel Costa.

*Book one of two*

#nowavailable #ilovebooks #mafiaromance #nayavauthor #readmoreromance #wildfiremarketingsolutions

[goodoldfashionednerd]

Sebastian when people find out his secret

[ID: Meme of an old person shrugging, with "guess I'll go in isolation and become a monk" on the bottom part of the picture. End ID]

[editfandom]

the prince and the dressmaker icons

like/reblog if you save

credit gagalacrax on twitter if you use

give credits if you repost, please

follow us for more

[kitty-champ]

Nicholas cuddling Eva

[maxiemumdamage]

I felt I owed it to myself and the LGBT+ community to share this: The Prince and the Dressmaker is being made into a musical! 

The movie musical’s soundtrack is being done by the same pair responsible for the songs of Frozen, Frozen II, and Moana! This is bound be great!

[nokkiart]

I couldn't help but think about Sebastian's first corset  >.>’

So I drew this during this month's Patreon livestream!

If you haven’t read “The Prince and The Dressmaker” yet, I highly suggest checking it out!! It’s such an amazing story with gorgeous art and so many great characters ~<3

And if you’d like to join me for next month’s livestream, check out my Patreon at www.patreon.com/lesliestrock

[dragon-scribbling-scribbles]

At least now Cas is as frustrated as I am.

He deserves it for digressing so much in his head. T___T

[bougainvillea-and-saltwater]

TES Summer Fest Day 3: Starlit

You'll Be In My Heart

Summary:

I will tell you the story of the traitorous Dragon Priest who ever truly served one single dragon and no other—the woman he fell in love with; his own Dragoness, the sun-eyed bride of flame, the one who redeemed him from a death everlasting. But in every tale, little one, this one has also a twist: it was he who was first destined to rescue her from a demise, even if they both found out many years later.

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ Guided by the moonglow and a starlit sky, the First Dragonborn comes to realize that not even the confines of Oblivion can prevent his spirit from finding its evermore destiny.

Rating&Warnings: Teen And Up Audiences. Some (mild) descriptions of the near-death of a newborn child, and some fleeting references concerning changes in Miraak's physical appearance/emotional state in Apocrypha.

Wordcount: 2,006 words

@tes-summer-fest, thank you for this lovely event! 🥰

This one-shot is below the cut and you can find it posted in Ao3, too!

There are no stars in Apocrypha.

Miraak, the First Dragonborn of an Aedra and the First Servant of a Daedra in equal measures, knows this all too well. Much to his despair, he has conceded to it for eternities unending now—or is it perhaps hours, minutes, or mere heartbeats of a second ever since a reel of obsidian-black ink engulfed and swiped him forever from a place asunder in two and smeared in blooded snow? This, he could never really say; time is a thing most whimsical in Oblivion, anyhow. When he is courageous enough to raise his eyes from the intricate filigree full of scattered pages below, to this caricature of a sky aloft, all he damns himself with is a canopy green and swirling, like a poisoned typhoon, like a polluted abyss, and in the place of the moon and stars he once marveled, named, and dreamed under somewhere in Frostwood's ice-sprinkled tundra, now there are only the boneless limbs, and the demon-like, sleepless, ever-watching eyes of the Woodland Man, as his fellow Atmorans called him; the Gardener of Memories, of Knowledge, of Fate—the Gardener of Men, is his most precise name.

His body does not function in Apocrypha; his heart does not beat, and so the blood in his veins does not flow—instead, it lies stagnant with no other option but to adjust with the ink puddles beneath his feet, altering him into a Seeker clad in the tainted flesh of a death-pale man, little by little. His body does not hurt in Apocrypha; if he ever felt any sensation, it was nothing more than the phantom pain one feels upon a limb they have already lost. His body has no need for sleep in Apocrypha; his eternal damnation is to always remain awake, watch how everything changes around him, and how it remains the same.

But, why now, does Miraak feel something changing? 

For the first time, a pain keen and penetrating and endless rends through him. It reaches the very depths of his dragon soul that wails its reverberating suffering across Oblivion, it carves him like a razor with a scalding and rusty tip, and it knocks his breath out. As he falls to his knees that crack under the weight of his body, his heart thunders like the drums of a tribal war dance beneath his chest, down his ribs, in his ears, in his face, in every fiber of his being, everywhere, everywhere, setting his blood alight and moiling. 

On his knees as he is, his neck and head jerk up against his will as though in a forced slumber, in a trance, his hood and mask slipping and clattering to the stale floor, freeing his waist-long all-tangled hair, and before his bottomless eyes roll in the back of his head, he manages to catch a thing most curious: the evermore swirl of Apocrypha's sky has now ceased, the immense double-pupils of Herma-Mora nowhere to be seen, and everything is frozen and standstill and put out.

_____________________________________________

The extinguished light slowly returns to him, and Miraak is on his feet, feeling no pain this time—on the quite contrary, all he feels is an unexplained calmness, that sort of peace one makes with themselves when they have a clear purpose to fulfill, an inescapable destiny written in the skies before they are even born. Though, there is a more crucial difference now: that light growing its sheen above his head, is not of Apocrypha, its sick green shade is no more, neither on him nor anywhere about. 

That light is a delicate, silken caress, limning and bathing him in a milky luster; it reflects flawlessly on his marble skin, burns up the ebony pools of his eyes with a silver flare like a celestial fire, and mirrors his ashen-white hair like an iridescent halo, until it becomes one and whole with his very being, and he looks like—like a lokzii, the eternal entourage of the Divines in Aetherius.

That light, is the light of a starlit needlework, embellished with smaller and larger seams, each representing a distant luminary and various constellations connecting the galactic dots between them. The starglow mingles with the radiant rays of a moon so full that, for an instant, Miraak thinks it is not a mere moon but the heart of an Aedra, expanded and centered inside the night sky's velvet embrace.

And there are stars anew. 

Real ones, he then realizes in awe.

Is he—is he back to Nirn? So soon? He has just set in motion his pursuit of enchanting the Skaal Stones with his Bend Will, so his hypnotic influence on the people of Solstheim in toiling them all day and all night long, fueling his return with the sacred ancient power of the All-Maker could have been... not nearly enough to help him escape the confines of Oblivion yet!

"I am lost and adrift," he looks up at the moon and speaks to it as if it were a living person, a fleshed guide. "It has been millennia since I last marveled at the sky, you see, and I cannot recall how it is to follow the path of the stars. Care to show me the way?"

And as if heeding his plea, a moonbeam flashes above him and starts to forge the route—or maybe it is his feet that begin to move first, and he becomes an astral walker with a destination untold but predestined and familiar-to-soul all the same, damning on the boundaries of his hellish prison and spanning through Nirn. As the case may be, the stellar canopy overhead will burnish brighter, as though all the stars together suddenly went supernova, momentary converting the night into day, the moon into the sun, when Miraak finds himself by the heavy, wooden gates of a building—a mead-hall that has the shape of a lavish... longship, a shield-adorned one at that, exactly like the ones once swayed upon the sun-shimmered seawater of Jylkurfyk's harbor; like the ones heroes-of-old sailed across the Sea of Ghosts to meet their coveted plunder at the other side.

He cannot help but recognize the midnight firmament's apparent signal to him, and so Miraak passes through these gates, stepping inside the mead-hall. Like an intangible specter he wanders within, and even though his view continues to be softly wreathed by the white-blue moonglow that escorted him to this place, he is completely indiscernible by every person dwelling there. His hands may graze against theirs as he glides his way amongst them, though he is naught but a whispering zephyr to them, a wisp of shadow, and they are but scarcely limned figures, fleeting forms in his eyes. 

Everyone and everything, ephemeral thready presences all around. Except—

Except for a newborn girl, her mirage so clear to his vision as though he faces his reflection in a grand soul gem; a girl with few red tufts upon her delicate crown, set in an oak-timbered cradle chiseled into wolven motifs, next to a bed that smells of blood, wolfsbane, and primrose. A girl that does not get to be held and protected by her mother's loving arms, nursed from her breast, and put to sleep by her soothing lullaby; all because—because Arkay claims her first.

Death has stretched its bloody talons towards the child who just met the world outside the womb, though earlier than she was meant to—always so hasty, always so impatient, the little fool, Mother Mara have mercy on her—and thus she bears a tiny and too-frail body, a listless surrender on her limbs, an ill pallor on her cheeks. A lily, she is; an ivory bud on the edge of withering.

This infant will be dead before the night is done. 

Be not afeared, soothes Miraak as he bends over the crib—it is his very dragon soul that it is speaking at this moment, while his human voice does not make a sound, his lips, not even a stir—death's darkness shrinking aside, life-light prevailing. I will tell you the story of the traitorous Dragon Priest who ever truly served one single dragon and no other—the woman he fell in love with; his own Dragoness, the sun-eyed bride of flame, the one who redeemed him from a death everlasting. The knuckles of his hand brush the child's soft cold cheek in the most feathery caress. But in every tale, little one, this one has also a twist: it was he who was first destined to rescue her from a demise, even if they both found out many years later.

And then, silent like a prayer and thunderous like a battlecry, he says: Whatever Light I have left in me, let it pass to her; let her be saved and live.

If the stellar-burst he saw by the time he found the gates of the mead-hall was like a supernova of all stars exploding as one, the forceful blast he sees after these very words leave his dovahsil is equivalent of— 

Realms crashing together, galaxies spinning in interstellar dust, nebulae forming new stars over and over again—

Newborn constellations—a shimmering crescent with a fraction of its disk slowly illuminated by direct sunlight, until all Miraak beholds is the moon and the sun united, bound together, rising up up up the starlit sky, finding its place amidst the constellations of the Ritual and the Lord— 

Uncreated Light that blinds and redeems him all at once— 

And in the end?

In the end, two eyes previously sealed shut, now open wide.

Two eyes, of pure molten sun. 

_____________________________________________

A violent inhale plunges down Miraak's lungs, chest heaving and falling by vigorous turns, and he blinks his strained eyes. For some unfathomable reason that he cannot recall no matter how much cognitive effort he puts forth, he is not standing on his feet; instead, he is sprawled upon Apocrypha's moist pages, his body numb and drained, his muscles aching and shaking as though he'd just traversed miles and miles away. His hair is free, his face is uncovered, hood and mask gone, even if he always made sure to conceal his countenance—no, his shame—ever since he set foot in this nightmare.

He bares his teeth and glares at the familiar abyss floating above his head, to his left, his right, behind, in front of him, and everywhere all at once. "Why am I like this?" He croaks, trying to get himself up, but the effort goes in vain, his legs giving up and falling to his back again. "What have you done to me, you foul bastard?"

And while Miraak would have expected some ambiguous but no less sharp rejoinder, Herma-Mora merely narrows his prominent gigantic eyeball in a way that makes him appear infuriated, as if... as if he likewise does not know what to respond to Miraak's demand. As if he is just as baffled as his Servant. 

"I am the Demon of Knowledge, Guardian of the Unseen, Knower of the Unknown. No knowledge can evade me forever," he rumbles in the end, almost like he's struggling to assure himself, of his own influence on his very sphere; one would even say he sounds fretful. "Have no fear, dear Champion, and this one shall reveal itself, sooner or later." 

Twenty-six years later, a woman will read a Black Book and fall into Apocrypha. She will be stunned by the Dragon Priest's spells in what they both thought to be their first encounter, and down at his feet as she is, she will raise her face and look at him straight in the eye—and for the second time after five millennia, his heart will beat once more. Twenty-six years later, she will kiss his lips and confess her soulful love with a bard's ballad. 

Titles, triumphs, praise, power, and pain. All in the shape of hers.

A woman so different and yet so same as him.

Death-grazed, fire-blessed, a clawed-and-teethed spirit.

A Dragoness—

Sun-eyed.

[seremity-archive]

introducing....   𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝖉𝖆𝖒𝖓𝖊𝖉 

@litscigarette @ladygenie @dicrkisses @frgilebones​

[jaanii]

tagged by @natequarter !!!

relationship status: um. i hate the word single bc it reminds me of this one ex i had who texted me ‘now im single as a pringle’ when i broke up with him but i am not with anyone romantically

favourite colour: tie between brown and lavender !

favourite food: biryani but my mom’s biryani

song stuck in my head: if you find yourself caught in love by belle and sebastian

time: 5:07pm

dream trip: oh uh maybe rome !!

last book I read: (reread) the prince and the dressmaker but currently reading the brothers karamazov

last book I enjoyed reading: ofc tpatd but i read if not, winter before that and i loved it !!

last book I hated reading: greedy: notes from a bisexual who wants too much ik a lot of people love it but as a bi person and a bi person of colour it was. nor a very good book and it rubbed me the wrong way

bonus:

favourite thing to cook/bake: pasta !!! any kind of pasta at all

favourite craft to do in my free time: probably writing

most niche dislike(s): people who dont thank the bus driver after getting off (im too lazy to think or more)

opinion on circuses: eh i dont really care i just hate clowns

do you have a sense of direction: sort of??

tagging @smilehoneyy @boyreceptionist @holding-hands-on-the-wii @to-taste-all-this-dawn <3

[bts-hyperfixation]

The Perfect Moment

First time drabble for Namjoon and Fem!Reader from ‘The Princess and The Duke’ but can be read solo.

Y/N is 18 Namjoon about to turn 20

Warnings: Loss of virginity, Praise kink, Fem!Oral, Breast play, Calls reader “my girl” a lot

The perfect moment wouldn’t present itself until the summer after Namjoon’s first year away. The end of the summer at that – and it wasn’t for lack of trying. Every time Namjoon came home from university, you’d tried to get him alone. Spring break, easter, your birthday… each time there was a pressing matter he had to see to, or he didn’t think it would be appropriate for you to disappear together when there were people around to see you. Of course, that didn’t mean there was nothing going on.

When he visited in the night, you snuck off to the bandstand together. It’d start innocently enough: holding hands through the maze, stolen kisses on cheeks, sitting in his lap as you watched the stars. Then it very quickly became heavy petting: Straddling his legs, hands pulling at hair, barely coming up for air. But still every time you tried to get him to sneak back in with you to finish what you had started, he gave you an excuse, kissed you chastely and walked away.

Each time left you more and more frustrated, to a point you started to believe he just didn’t want you. Maybe he’d decided he didn’t really love you and didn’t know how to tell you. It ate you up inside for most of the summer. With each passing night you became more and more unsure, pulling away a little more each time he left. Of course, knowing you better than anyone ever had or will, Namjoon caught on to your hesitancy.

“What’s wrong princess?” he asked stroking your hair as you lay against his chest.

“Are you sure you love me?” your voice was small as you asked the question you had been dreading the answer to. His hand stilled on you head. For a moment you believed that would be it. He forced you to pull away from him so he could meet your eyes.

“Of course I love you Y/N. More than anything.” You searched his eyes for a hint of dishonesty but came up empty. “Why would you ever question that?” He looked so upset about the accusation that you couldn’t help but look away.

“I… You… Why haven’t we had sex yet?” A blush covers your cheeks as he brings your face back to his, cupping your cheek like its made of the most delicate porcelain.

“Oh Y/N this is my fault, I just thought we should wait a while. Your first time should be perfect, and I wanted to make sure you were 100% sure this is what you wanted before we went some where we couldn’t come back from.” He kissed you gently and used his thumb to wipe a stray tear from under your eye.

“This is everything I’ve ever wanted Joon. Every moment with you is perfect to me.” You mumble against his lips before kissing him a little harder. “Please, I want you so bad.” He stood lifting you into a bridal pose.

“I promise I want you more.” He whispered as he began to carry you back to the castle.

…

Lay on your bed, you had never felt so exposed. Your clothes had been abandoned as you entered the bedroom (Namjoon’s shirt was somewhere in the secret passageway). He stood at the end of your bed in only his boxers admiring your naked form. Instinctively your arms came up to cover your chest as you closed your eyes. You felt the bed dip as Namjoon joined you. You could feel his breath on your face as he came in close to kiss you.

“You're so beautiful, don’t hide from me.” He kissed your lips quickly before trailing down your neck towards your breasts. “Be a good girl and move your hands out of the way, let me see all of you.” You slowly take your hands away and expose yourself to him.

“That’s my girl.” He mumbled against your skin. He then dragged his tongue along your collarbone and into your cleavage. You let out a small squeak as he bit down softly on the flesh of your breast. “Y/N are you okay?” he asked bringing his head up to meet your eyes.”

“I’m fine, keep going.” You bit your lip as he flashed you his dimples and returned his attention to the sensitive skin around your nipples. His left hand reached to interlock with your right, as his free hand pinched and twisted the nipple he couldn’t use his teeth for. You could feel the smile on his lips every time he managed to make you squeal for him. He sucked a hickey on to the soft skin before deciding he was satisfied enough to begin moving down.

You sucked in breath as you felt his mouth get closer to your vagina. Each inch made you squirm just a little more until he stopped just shy and bought his face back up to yours.

“I though you were going to be a good girl for me, good girls don’t wriggle princess.” He pouted. You nodded enthusiastically.

“I can be good, want to be so good for you.” You barely recognised the whine as your own. He kissed you harshly, the sloppiest kiss you’d ever received and yet it turned you on more than it perhaps should’ve. You could feel the arousal pooling between your legs. His hand had snaked down while you were distracted with the kiss. The long fingers suddenly dipping between your folds made you jump. Namjoon chuckled as he played with your clit, circling lazily around the sensitive nerves.

“Relax for me Y/N.” He asked as his lips moved along your jawline. You hadn’t even realised you’d clenched until he said. Your own lack of experience served to do nothing but embarrass you. He took his hand away from you for a moment, suddenly becoming very serious with you “It might hurt if you can’t relax, and the last thing I EVER want to do is hurt you.” You took a deep breath and forced your anxieties down just as his hand went back to its ministrations.

This time his pointer finger played with your entrance. He pushed inside just a little and it took all you had not to move. He wriggled the digit a little before pushing it in further. His finger curled in come hither motions until he was sure you were ready for a second.

“So perfect for me.” He reassured you when you whimpered at the second intrusion. The feeling of someone else’s hand doing the work was amazing. He could reach places you never could, no matter how hard you’d tried. His face disappeared from your eyeline, his mouth joining his fingers at your entrance. You gazed down just as his tongue licked out at your clit. The sight was so sexy it was overwhelming. Your hands reached down instinctively to wrap in his hair as your hips jutted forward, desperate to get more of his mouth on you. His arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you firmly in place.

His tongue danced figure eights across your bud as he worked a third finger inside of you. The pressure of an orgasm was building but you didn’t have time to warn him as one sharp thrust of his hand had you cumming all over his face.

“You taste so good princess, so amazing for me, so perfect.” He praised; each compliment punctuated by a kiss to the inside of your thighs. “Are you ready?” he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before hooking his thumbs in his boxers. You could see a small wet patch of pre-come had leaked through the front of the soft material.

“Absolutely.” He removed the last of his clothing, pulled a condom from his abandoned jeans, and lined himself up to you. You took in the sight of him hovering above you. Every inch of him perfect, and every inch of him yours.

“Joon?” you stopped him.

“Yes Princess?” he pulled back a little, worried you suddenly were having second thoughts.

“I love you so much.” You pulled his face down to meet yours in one more passionate kiss before he carefully began to inch into you. The stretch burned a little as he slowly sank into you. He stopped when he was fully inside, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. When you tentatively began to rock your hips against him, he took it as his chance to start thrusting a little. He started softly, pulling out only a little before burying himself deep within you. Each movement made you moan. You’d never felt so full.

Namjoon couldn’t last too long before he became a panting mess above you.

“So good, so tight, so perfect.” He littered your face with kisses as his thrust became sloppier. “I love you.” He pushed his lips against yours as his hips buried into you as deep as possible while he released into the condom. Instead of pulling out of you he slipped to the side and pulled you close. One hand smoothed down your hair as the other held tightly to your waist.

Eventually he pulled away to dispose of the condom. As he did that, you snuck away to the bathroom, making sure you clean yourself up properly. When you came back to your bedroom, he was lay on his back in his boxers. An oversized t-shirt was layout on the bottom of the bed for you. You donned the fabric and crawled into his arms.

Masterlist

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