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hotmencoreplus · 10 months

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 ‘𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭’ 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲’𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

Pairing: Simon Riley x sister!reader (she/her)

Summary: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, the infamous, relentless and fearless Task Force 141 soldier. And the particulars of him being the guardian of his baby sister.

Warnings: Talks of war and deployment, mentions of a traumatic childhood, language. Attempted to do it chronologically, but have added bits here and there

Word count: 3300+

A/N: Basing this off the theory that he is mid 30’s in mw2.

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

‣ Simon wasn’t at all prepared to be an older brother, but when he saw you, he knew it was his job to protect his little baby sister.

‣ You were the only one who was fortunate enough to not be killed by Washington, so when Simon was made aware of your survival, he took you in as his own.

‣ He doubted himself at first, fearing he would turn out like his dad, but also didn’t want to abandon you like he had been as a child.

‣ He wasn’t experienced in any way shape or form with taking care of a baby, so most of his days when not on deployment consisted of him watching youtube videos and going online to figure out how to do stuff and take care of you properly.

‣ When on deployment, he left you with a trusted neighbour who he had known for years before. (I feel like this would either be like a man who he would call his ‘best friend’ when home, or an old woman who has kids of her own, that use to babysit him)

‣ He would spoil you the best he could, and make you as happy as possible, not wanting you to have a childhood anything remotely like his.

‣ He definitely still gets help off of google for some things. He isn’t really too good with knowledge on ‘girly’ things.

‣ When home, you and him would always sit at the kitchen table of an evening, you playing with barbies whilst he sat across from you modding his rifle. As you got older, it would be the same just you with homework. You didn’t speak much when sat with each other, though it was always a comfortable silence for the both of you.

‣ Once when in primary school, you came home with a pout as you were jealous of your classmates pigtails and plaits, seeing that Simon only really knew how to brush your hair. So that night, he spent an hour watching videos over and over so that he could learn how to plait your hair.

‣ He felt stupid watching the videos, and frustrated that it took him so long to get the hang of it, but he knew it was all worth it when he saw the grin on your face the next morning as you looked at your hair in the mirror to see it all pretty and plaited.

‣ He also felt the same each birthday or christmas when you were little, worried that the little amount that he was able to get you wouldn’t be enough to make you happy. But 100% of the time, it was just him underestimating himself.

‣ When you were young, he never bothered to mention his own birthday. But one year when with your neighbour, you found out his birthday was a couple days after he came back from deployment. So you saved up money for the 2 weeks before he came back, and bought him a little teddy bear and a bar of chocolate. You also made him a little loom band bracelet, and haphazardly wrapped them up and hid them under your bed.

‣ When his birthday did arrive, you came downstairs to him in the living room, holding the parcel out in front of him. He lifted you up onto his lap, taking the parcel from you. “What’s this?” He asked, looking at it as he peeled his fingers from the cellotape of which you’d badly wrapped it with.

‣ “Happy birthday” you say softly with a smile, and that right there made Simon’s heart melt. He unwrapped the gift, and held the bear out in front of him. You looked at him eagerly, though his expression was confusing to you. “I hope you like it” you say with a slight hint of doubt. But Simon smiles at you, yes, smiles, and pulls you closer to him, placing a small kiss on your cheek, “I love it, thank you Y/N” he says, and the grin returns to your face.

‣ Simon had never felt more appreciated by anyone in his life.

‣ He let you off that one morning to share the chocolate with him, after eagerly placing the loom band on his large wrist, showing him that you now had matching ones.

‣ And he wears it everyday, even on deployment, under his uniform.

‣ And he still does to this day, years later.

‣ He also has a tattoo tucked away somewhere that he got for you, most likely your initials.

‣ When he first joined 141, Price was the only one who knew about you, and that Simon was the one who took care of you.

‣ He knew from Ghost’s files, as when he joined the task force, you were at the age where Simon wanted you written down as who was told when he died.

‣ You were at the age where it was harder to just pretend he never existed. Because when you were a baby, that was his plan. Before he joined it was your neighbour that was put down, just as a telling that you would need to be put in someone else's care.

‣ When Ghost requested the change to his file, he asked Price that someone could go over and tell you in person, rather than just a phone call, or his dog tags through the mail. Which caused for him to have to let Price know of your existence.

‣ He also asked for Price to tell Laswell, as he trusted her and wanted someone there for you who was in the UK more than he was, and in case both him and Price were on a mission/ far away.

‣ He also did it as he believed that you needed at least one female figure somewhat a part of your life, though you've only met her like once or twice.

‣ It takes a good amount of time and full trust in a person for Simon to be comfortable with them meeting you, or even just knowing of you. Which is why Johnny found out so randomly.

‣ You were late pre-teens when Simon was coming home from deployment, and got a call from his friend, apologising that he couldn’t pick him up from base. Johnny overheard the conversation and insisted that he dropped Simon off, though he was perfectly fine getting a taxi.

‣ Simon did message you to stay in the house, but you weren’t paying any mind to your phone, just looking out the window waiting for his arrival. Your own excitement blinded you to the fact it wasn’t the car of Simon’s friend dropping him off, so when you saw his skull mask through the car window, you jumped off the couch and ran out the door to him without a second thought. You didn’t hesitate in giving him a massive hug, which, though Johnny hadn’t pulled off yet, Simon reciprocated, as he knew there was no way of exactly hiding you now.

‣ It wasn’t at all that he didn’t trust Johnny enough, Simon just always felt awkward bringing it up and didn’t expect the circumstances of which he was in, so wasn’t prepared at all.

‣ Soap didn’t like to pry, but was curious and immensely shocked to see a young girl run out of his house and jump onto Simon’s huge frame. He knew it couldn’t have been his daughter as Simon would have simply been far too young for that to be true. So he made the conclusion of you being his sister, and tried to keep it to himself.

‣ Though on the next deployment, Johnny did ask about the young girl he saw, and with a grumble of a reply, he then understood that his guesses were correct. By then he trusted Gaz enough as well, so the whole of 141 eventually knew of Simon’s little sister.

‣ Simon keeps a little photograph of you in his uniform, in an inside breast pocket, above his heart. It’s a photo of you when you were little, the first year he put aside his fears, and took you trick-or-treating. You were dressed as a little fairy, grinning up at the camera, your face covering most of the shot as you leant forwards into the frame.

‣ You two don’t have any proper photos with each other, apart from one from when it was your birthday one year, and you told Simon that the only thing you wanted was a photo of the two of you together. So Simon begrudgingly granted your wish after a lot of convincing.

‣ In the photo, you are stood next to each other in the hallway of your home, you grinning with your short arms attempting to wrap around his large waist, and him stood looking emotionless with his simple skull mask on, his arm behind you resting on your back.

‣ It wouldn’t look sentimental at all to anyone else, but you treasured it. It stays on your bedside cabinet, with one of his old dog tags that he let you keep. You also have another old one of his attached to the zip of your school backpack.

‣ Simon never really decorated your room too much when you were younger, as he was new to the whole thing and decided that he would let you do it with him when you were older and found your own passions and interests. So first off for several years your room consisted of a small single bed, a wardrobe, and littles shelves for your toys, all of which he built with you sat on the floor of your room with him one day.

‣ But when you did find yourself and what you liked, you both spent a couple days decorating it. As it was just you and Simon in the house, you weren’t ever very ‘girly’ so the walls were painted a pale blue, and he bought you some new shelves and some fairy lights/ LED’s to hang up around your bed.

‣ When you use to get nightmares or just couldn’t fall asleep, you would sneak into Simon’s room, and wake him up so that you could stay with him. Although due to his own nightmares, was usually awake before you came in anyways. But there was something he secretly found so sweet about hearing your little feet try to quietly pad down the hallway to his room.

‣ He never minded, because he had nightmares all the time. Simon would never admit it, not even to his baby sister, but he enjoyed the nights where he would have her with him. Because in the long run it did actually help him fall asleep, knowing he wasn’t completely on his own.

‣ He had you.

‣ Due to him being away quite a lot, you have been aware of his job since you were little.

‣ Though when you got older, you wanted to know more about it. Simon didn’t really want to tell you much, as he didn't believe it was something he wanted his sister knowing about, but after so much pestering from you, he caved in. You learnt about his callsign, and how he always wore the skull mask.

‣ Once meeting Soap properly, he was the one to tell you about how infamous your brother really was on the field.

‣ You found it pretty cool that you were one of the only people in the entire world who new what the Simon Riley truly looked like, and secretly took pride in it.

‣ You have always known Simon with and without his mask, so it never feels weird. He rarely wore it when you were a toddler, though when you were first born he mostly kept it on, scared his scars were gonna frighten you.

‣ But the first time he took it off in front of you, you babbled and giggled, and reached out to his face. So from then on, he didn’t bother wearing it around you.

‣ There was one occasion when he came to pick you up from a neighbours after almost a year long deployment, and you were shy with him. It hurt Simon a bit, and made him feel guilty for not being there, and that you had grown so much in the time he was away. But the feeling soon melted away once your neighbour gave you a little push from behind their leg, you softening in Simon’s touch as he held you close in his arms.

‣ His teenage years were the most traumatic for him, so when you transitioned into yours, he became even more protective of you. You sometimes fought over this, and Simon felt bad, but you knew that he was doing it because he wanted nothing more than for you to be safe.

‣ When he bought you your first phone, he definitely made you have Life360 or something like it, so that he knows where you are just in case he needs it.

‣ He would never go crazy on where you were and who you were with. He trusted you. But when away, every night before he went to bed himself, or whenever it was late in the UK timezone, he would check that you were at home. It made him relax slightly about being away, knowing that you were safe.

‣ You were about 15 when you were properly introduced to the 141 team, as behind Soap’s teasing and pestering, Simon knew that you needed some other adult figures in your life. So, much to your own surprise, he messaged you asking if you wanted to come get him from base one time with his neighbour.

‣ You knew that Simon wasn’t really much of a physical affection type of guy, but you could never resist when he was coming back home after a deployment. And even less so now that you were able to come to base. But he also knew that much to his dislike for the public display of it, there was nothing he could do to stop you from doing so.

‣ And with that fact in mind, he knew he had to reciprocate the gesture, so when you did run up to him with your arms out, for a second he forgot about that fact the rest of the guys wouldn’t let cold old ‘Ghost’ hear the end of it, and wrapped one arm around you, lifting you up with ease, his bags clutched in his other hand. You practically squealed to him how much you’d missed him, as he mumbled back in your ear that he did you, too. Lucky for him the others didn't hear that.

‣ Once he had put you down, he very much awkwardly introduced you to the others in a grumbly tone.

‣ When you turned to them, the first thing that they all collectively noticed were your eyes.

‣ You had Simon’s eyes.

‣ Johnny’s hello was an enthusiastic “Good to finally meet you lass,” Simon glaring at Soap, aware of the amusement this brought him, knowing his lieutenant was annoyed as hell.

‣ Gaz nodded at you with a smile, and Price said hello in a deep but warm tone, looking on at you with an almost proud gaze.

‣ Price didn’t know what to expect when Soap loudly made everyone aware of Ghost’s new visitor at base pick up, as Johnny was the only one of them who had seen you before to recognise you as Ghost's sister, though they knew you existed (much to their inital surprise). But when you turned to the rest of the team without hesitance, Price instantly felt an even higher level of respect towards Simon as it was clear from your confident and polite hello that he had raised you well.

‣ Much to Simon’s own self doubt.

‣ One night when the 141 were all at a bar, Price quietly told Simon about how he had done well with you, knowing that he was definitely uncertain of his own worth in your life. But Simon heard the sincerity in his Captain’s voice, and with a quick look of appreciation towards John, he then didn’t doubt himself as much as he had before.

‣ Simon sometimes does mess up though with his language around you, only recently now that you have gotten older. But he isn’t too fussed, just as long as he doesn't hear you repeat any of it.

‣ Seeing that it is only you two in the house 24/7, you both surprisingly get on really well, and there have only been a rare few occasions when he has had to put his foot down.

‣ But these rare occasions would mainly consist of something silly to the point that he got sick of your nagging, like when you begged him to have ice cream for breakfast.

‣ “Please Simon, just this once-“

‣ “No, Y/N! You said that last time. Now drop it.”

‣ There have definitely been times where neither of you can sleep, and now that you're older, you both just sit with each other in comfortable silence. Occasionally just putting a random film on in the living room, but most of the time you would just be at the kitchen table, with a bowl of cereal at like 2am. That is until, and this is 98% of the time, you fall asleep with your head on the table and Simon has to carry you to your room.

‣ When you got to the age where Simon was comfortable with you in the house on your own, you once mentioned to him that the first day of him being away was always the hardest, and that it felt really weird in the house.

‣ You both knew he couldn’t do much about that, but he tried little things to make it somewhat bearable.

‣ For instance, he knows one of your favourite things is leftover takeaway from when you two have one, so the night before every deployment, he always orders takeaway for dinner so that there is always some in the fridge for you on the first day of him being gone.

‣ It’s the little things that Simon does for you despite his mostly cold heart that mean the most to you.

‣ On long deployments, you write Simon letters for him to read. You do message him too, but prefer writing them, as you know he will write back, which you feel is more sincere. His letters are never as long or heartfelt as yours, but you know your brother, and that he loves you dearly.

‣ His replies would often be a few sentences, praising you on anything that you would mention about school or just exciting stuff in general, signing off with ‘Simon’, and a barely noticeable ‘x’ next to it.

‣ You keep every single one of the letters he sends back, your favourites being the ones that he would occasionally send to you, first. And secretly Simon does the same, keeping your letters tucked away in his bag under his bed.

‣ He tells you unless its an emergency, that you should stick to letters or texts, so that he can still stay focused with his job and that if you do one day call him, he knows straight away that it’s an urgent matter.

‣ There was one time when you forgot about the emergency rule, and called him to tell him you passed a test you had been stressing about.

‣ He was about to shout down the line asking what was wrong and where you were until you beat him to it with a loud “I PASSED SIMON, I PASSED THE TEST!”

‣ “That’s amazing Y/N, but you just scared the fucking life out of me.”

‣ “Oh crap. I forgot, sorry. But I passed!!!”

‣ "Great love. I'm proud of you. But next time stick it in a letter, yeah?"

#call of duty #modern warfare 2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon riley x sister!reader #platonic #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 platonic #soap x reader #captain price x reader #gaz x reader #modern warfare x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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roosterforme · 1 year

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The Younger Kind Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: As a single dad trying to start dating again, Bradley feels like he's constantly running in circles. Hiring a twenty-four year old student to babysit should have made things easier, but no matter how hard he fights it, you're too irresistible to stay away from.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)

Length: 3300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley cradled his forehead in his hands as he leaned against the bar. He hated being interrogated like this. He knew it was coming eventually, but he really wasn't expecting it today.

"You need a babysitter?" Nat asked with vivid interest. "Who are you going on a date with?"

He groaned. "What makes you think I need a babysitter so I can go on a date? Maybe I just need a couple hours to myself."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Because when you need an hour or two to yourself, you always ask me if I can come over and stay with Noah. And I always oblige, because I am the best person you know. So this must be something else. Who is it?"

"Rebel asked me out," Bradley murmured, looking at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"Rebel! She's only been at Top Gun for a week!" Nat said, eyes wide as she examined his face. "She literally arrived from Lemoore seven days ago, and she already made a move on you? Damn, some of these pilots are quick."

"She just asked me out for coffee. I only said yes, because you keep telling me I should start dating again!"

"Well, you should start dating again. But I figured you'd download an app, find some cute women and get your rocks off. Not go on a date with a coworker!" Nat said, exasperated.

Bradley just gaped at her as Penny dropped off two more beers. "I haven't done this in a while. Forgive me for not knowing precisely what you intended for me to do here, Nat," he said with a massive eye roll.

She turned her nose up at him. "You're forgiven. But you need to give me your phone," she said, holding out her hand.

"For what?" he asked skeptically.

"Just gimme."

Bradley handed it to her and she entered his passcode from memory. "Just don't order anything on my Amazon account, okay? I like my Hawaiian shirts just fine, and I donated all the shit you charged to my credit card last time."

"I'm not ordering you new clothes," she scoffed, tapping away on his screen. "I'm solving all your problems. Now look at me and smile."

Bradley glared at her instead as she snapped a few photos. "These look terrible," she mumbled under her breath as she switched to her own phone. "I have one where you look halfway decent... oh, here it is."

Then she was back on his phone again, and he just gave up trying to understand half of what she did when she wasn't in the air with him.

"Nat, I just don't know that I'll ever get serious with anyone again. Meredith kind of ruined that for me."

Nat was scrolling along on his phone as she said, "Meredith was a flaming asshat. I never liked her. The best thing she ever did was get pregnant with Noah and then dump you."

Bradley was back to cradling his head in his hand. He did not like thinking about the fact that his ex bailed on him and their son when he was just a few months old. It made him feel sick. And now he was partening alone, which was harder than anything he had ever done.

"Shit," Bradley said, checking his watch. "I need to pick Noah up from daycare. Give me my phone," he said before finishing the last sip of his beer.

"I'm not done yet," Nat mumbled, a frightening grin creeping across her face. "Just one more minute."

Bradley thought about texting Rebel and canceling their tentative coffee date. Nat was probably right about dating another aviator. He didn't even know her actual first name, and she only ever called Bradley Rooster. What the hell kind of weird date would that be like? Talking Super Hornet specs? Comparing tales of punching out and parachute deployments?

He listened to a rapid string of alerts from his phone. "Is someone texting me?" he asked, reaching for his phone. "That's a lot of alerts. Is it Noah's daycare?"

But Nat was holding his phone tight and grinning. "Not texts. Women. Women who think you are cute and like your dating profile."

His eyes went wide. "What the fuck did you do?" he asked, his voice deadly calm.

"Got you about ten dates if you want them. You're welcome," she said, handing his phone back to him.

He scrolled through all of the profiles on his screen. "What am I looking at exactly?"

"Well, here's your profile. I used the only decent photos of you in existence. And that's your bio."

Bradley squinted at the screen. "All it says is that I'm 36, a naval aviator, and I like working out. And I have golden retriever energy? What the hell does that mean?"

"It means you're energetic. They'll take that to mean in the bedroom."

"Jesus, Nat. Shouldn't I disclose important things? Like the fact that I'm a dad?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. That's second date material. They are going to want to size you up and see if you're a daddy before they need to know that you're a dad."

He shoved his phone in his pocket as he stood. "I don't have time for this," he grunted, pulling out his wallet and waving at Penny. "If I don't find a babysitter, none of this is going to make any difference anyway."

Penny took his credit card and then paused. "You need a babysitter for Noah? Mav and I can watch him if you need a break, you know that, right?"

Bradley sighed. "Thanks Pen. Yeah, I know that. I'm just looking for something a little more regular. Gonna try dating again," he said, glaring at Nat out of the corner of his eye.

"I might know someone who would be interested," Penny said, handing the card back to Bradley. "She's a student in her early twenties, I guess. Really smart and seems sweet. Noah would probably like her. She's in classes during the day, but she was looking to babysit at night."

"How do you know her?" Bradley asked, already hesitant to leave his kid alone with a stranger.

"She's renting a house on my street. I ran into her a few times, and we got to talking. She fed Luna, watered my plants, and got the mail when I took Amelia sailing."

Nat placed her hand on his arm. "I know this is a big step, but you could meet her first before you offer her the job."

Bradley stroked his mustache. "Any chance she would come over and meet me and Noah? So I can make sure she's not creepy?" he asked Penny.

Penny just laughed. "She's not creepy. How about I give her your number if she says she's interested in watching Noah."

"Sounds good," Bradley replied quickly, barely listening to Penny now. "I need to go pick him up. Bye, Nat."

"Don't forget to swipe through all your matches!" she called after him.

He just waved and made his way to his Bronco. Bradley always felt like he was running all over the place. As much as it bothered him to take Noah to daycare on a Saturday, he felt like he was losing his grip on his life. His friends rarely ever remembered to invite him to the Hard Deck, correctly assuming he wouldn't be able to go. But it would still be nice to be invited.

Everything felt impossible on his own. He wasn't getting enough sleep. As soon as Noah went to bed, it was a race to try to get every chore finished. Then he had to wake up an hour earlier to insure he had time to get Noah ready and dropped off at daycare on time. Every day was a damn marathon, and he really wished he could get some help.

He would never ever admit it to Nat, but he was lonely. Just the idea of getting to spend an evening eating dinner with a woman practically had him popping a boner. Having the chance to get to know someone again, get to have sex again? He couldn't think about it too long. He'd been spending so much time with his right hand and his imagination.

As he pulled into the daycare parking lot, he sighed. This was the reason he had forfeited dating. His son. His adorable, perfect son.

"Ready to go?" he asked, and Noach climbed up into his arms.

"Yep, daddy," he said, and Bradley carried him out after thanking the daycare staff.

"Let's get home and eat dinner," Bradley said, pushing Noah's dark curls away from his forehead and kissing him.

And this was the reason Bradley would only ever consider dating someone who liked kids and didn't mind dating a single dad. In spite of the daycare schedule, and the exhaustion and loneliness, Noah was his top priority.

-------------------------

You were just getting back from class and unloading your books from your car when you saw Penny waving to you from her mailbox. As soon as you waved awkwardly with your arms full, she was heading your way.

"Hey, Penny," you said as she walked up your driveway.

"I wanted to chat for a minute. Is it a bad time?" she asked, eyeing up everything in your arms.

You nodded toward the house. "Come inside so I can set everything down."

She followed you in, already going on about someone named Bradley. "He's sweet, and he has an adorable three year old son named Noah. They are looking for a reliable sitter, and I know you mentioned an interest."

"Oh," you replied, dumping everything onto your couch. "This Bradley guy? He's not creepy or anything, right?"

Penny laughed. "He asked the same about you. He's very hesitant to let a stranger watch Noah, but I told him I'd give you his number if you wanted to contact him. Maybe you could just go meet them one day. He's not creepy. He works with Pete. And I swear Noah is irresistable."

You sighed. You really needed some extra income. And you loved kids. And you'd probably be able to study after Noah went to bed for the night. As long as this Bradley wasn't giving off weird vibes, you'd probably want the job.

"Okay, I'll take his number," you said, and soon you were adding Bradley Bradshaw to your contacts. "Thanks, Penny. Hopefully this will work out."

You got lost in your research for the rest of the day on Saturday, and purposely avoided returning texts from Greyson. He only wanted to see you when you were too busy, and he never wanted to see you when you had time for him.

"He's being a douchebag," you whispered as you scrolled through the idiotic things he was sending you.

Then you opened a new conversation and typed out a draft to this Bradley guy.

Hi, I got your number from Penny Benjamin. She told me you're looking for a reliable babysitter. Any chance you have some free time so I can meet you and your son?

It was late, so you decided to let it sit in your drafts until the following morning. But apparently it wasn't too late for Greyson, who was now asking if you wanted him to send you a dick pic.

You switched your phone to do not disturb mode after telling him that you would really appreciate it if he didn't send you one. Then you went to bed and dozed off fantasizing about dating a guy who acted like an adult.

It was so late when you woke up, you decided to skip breakfast and just make yourself lunch. When you switched your phone back to receive messages, you were flooded with a bunch, mostly from Greyson. Luckily there was no dick pic to speak of, but he'd sent you a bunch of nonsense while he was probably drunk or high.

Then you noticed the draft to Bradley Bradshaw, so you hit send on that one. You had a reply from him before you were even done making a sandwich.

Bradley Bradshaw: Yes, I am looking for a sitter for my son Noah. Penny highly recommended you. I can make time to meet you whenever you are free. Just to be clear, I want to make sure Noah and I are both comfortable around you before proceeding.

You rolled your eyes. A grown adult man should not be as concerned about you as you should be about him. But, you could see where he was coming from about the prospect of letting a stranger stay with his son. So you replied and started eating your sandwich.

I could stop by this evening to meet you both if you're free.

He wrote back quickly again.

Bradley Bradshaw: That would be great. Anytime after 4. I'll attach my address.

If this guy was creepy or if his son was weird, Penny was going to be hearing about it for the rest of the year.

---------------------------

Bradley was just cooking dinner while Noah sat in his high chair coloring, when he heard his doorbell ring. "That might be your potential babysitter, bub," Bradley told him, kissing the top of his head as he grabbed a dish towel and headed for the front door while drying his hands.

But Bradley almost dropped the towel when he opened the door and got a look at you. As your wide eyes drifted up his body and landed on his face, you smiled up at him.

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

You were stunning. Beautiful, and so fucking young. He swallowed against the saliva pooling in his mouth. Oh shit.

"Uh, yeah. Hi," he managed, moving out of the doorway so you could step past him and into the living room. "Thanks for coming."

"No problem," you said with a shrug. "I'm looking forward to meeting Noah." You brushed past Bradley, and he closed his eyes. Your lip gloss was distractingly shiny. You smelled like beach grass or wildflowers. You looked like you were barely old enough to drink.

"He's in the kitchen," Bradley rasped, trying to pull himself together. "Back this way."

You followed Bradley through the house, and as soon as you saw his son sitting in the high chair, you went right to him.

"Hey, Noah! What are you coloring?"

"Dinosaurs," Noah told you, holding out a pink crayon.

"Cool. I love pink dinosaurs," you replied, starting to color a pterodactyl on the page next to the one he was working on.

"Me too. I like pink and blue dinosaurs the best," he replied.

Bradley watched you interacting with Noah. You seemed sweet, coloring each dinosaur the color he requested. When Noah mispronounced your name, you just laughed and told him he could call you that.

When you bent down to retrieve a yellow crayon as it rolled across the floor, Bradley got an excellent view of the backs of your bare thighs as your sundress rode up. He dropped the spatula into the pan, nearly burning himself. He was also nearly burning his dinner.

"Shit," he mumbled as you turned to smile at him before handing the crayon back to Noah.

"What else do you like to do? Besides color?" you asked.

Noah started telling you all about drawing with chalk and playing with bubbles outside. "I like snacks and movies. And hiking."

Bradley laughed. "By hiking he means walking around the block if I make it home from work before it's dark out."

"Oh," you said. "I can take you on a hike one day, Noah. I like hiking around the block, too. Maybe we can collect some things like rocks and leaves."

Bradley listened to Noah tell you about some particularly good rocks he had found last week, and you somehow responded in just the right way.

"You're in the navy?" you eventually asked Bradley, shrugging out of your denim jacket in the hot kitchen, giving Bradley a view of even more of your flawless skin. "Like Pete?"

He cleared his throat, mixing everything in the pan on the stove. "Yeah, I work with him. I'm an aviator."

"Do you want me to call you by your rank? Instead of Mr. Bradshaw?"

Bradley had to press his lips together, a little scared to know what hearing you call him Lieutenant Bradshaw would do to him. "You can just call me Bradley."

"Okay, Bradley," you said, and unfortunately that did something to him too. "You've got a cute kid. I think Noah and I could have a lot of fun together."

"How old are you?" The words were out of Bradley's mouth before he could rethink them. He almost sounded accusatory, but really he needed to know how bad it was that he couldn't stop looking at your legs.

"Twenty-four," you replied casually.

Jesus. He was twelve years older than you. But you looked even younger than that. Sweet. Too innocent.

"I'm in grad school for nursing," you continued. "I'm certified in CPR, and I can treat injuries. I know how to swim. I'm free every day starting at 4. You can run a background check on me if you want to."

Noah looked up at you and asked if you wanted to build blocks with him, and Bradley knew he already felt comfortable enough to leave his son with you while he went on a date with Rebel.

He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He hadn't taken the time to figure out how to use the dating app that Nat installed, and he was being inundated with matches and messages. He also hadn't given Rebel, whose first name was Grace, a solid answer about when he could get coffee with her.

But for some reason, in spite of the laundry list of women from the app who were interested in going on a date with him, he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" Bradley asked as you built a block tower with Noah on the high chair tray.

"Oh, no. That's nice of you to ask, but I don't want to crash your meal," you told him over your shoulder. "Here, put this little block on the top. Let's see if we can make it stay," you told Noah, keeping your hands around the sides of the tower until he successfully set down the last piece. Then you tossed your hands into the air and cheered.

Noah turned and looked at you in surprise and you just laughed. "You're good at coloring and blocks?" He just giggled, and soon you were both knocking down the tower and starting over.

As Bradley scraped his half burned dinner onto a plate, he felt a little disappointed that you were grabbing your jacket and getting ready to leave. Noah looked a little sad, too.

"Well," Bradley told you, watching you gracefully shrug into your jacket, "you're hired if you think you can put up with the two of us."

You laughed and took a step closer to him. "Noah? He seems like an angel. You on the other hand?"

Bradley's eyes went wide, and you just laughed harder.

"Only kidding! I'm sure I'll be able to put up with both of you if you think you can put up with me."

You were young and beautiful, and for some reason Bradley wanted to feed you dinner, even though the food he made looked barely edible.

"I don't think that will be a problem."

---------------------------

I hope you enjoy your Daddy Rooster and babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls !!

PART 2

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster fanfic #rooster x female reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster x reader

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talonabraxas · 1 year

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5,500-Year-Old Sumerian Star Map“For over 150 years scientists have tried to solve the mystery of a controversial cuneiform clay tablet that indicates the so-called Köfel’s impact event was observed in ancient times. The circular stone-cast tablet was recovered from the 650 BC underground library of King Ashurbanipal in Nineveh, Iraq in the late 19th century. Long thought to be an Assyrian tablet, computer analysis has matched it with the sky above Mesopotamia in 3300 BC and proves it to be of much more ancient Sumerian origin. The tablet is an “Astrolabe,” the earliest known astronomical instrument. It consists of a segmented, disk-shaped star chart with marked units of angle measure inscribed upon the rim.

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barbariankingdom · 3 months

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The recent discovery of a 3300 year-old clay tablet in central Turkey has unveiled details of a catastrophic foreign invasion during a tumultuous period of civil war within the enigmatic Hittite Empire.

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humanpurposes · 1 year

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Come So Close That I Might See, part ii, Aemond

Desperate to secure her position, Aegon's wife turns to Aemond for help // Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x OFC

Warnings: 18+, smut, infidelity, mentions of past non-con, fluff, (cameo from dad!Aemond at the end).

Words: 3300

A/n: pwp but went heavy on the plot. Also available to read on AO3.

Tags: @padfooteyes @darkenchantress @blackdreamspeaks @kezibear143

The dull light of dawn dragged her from a dreamless sleep. The sun hadn’t yet risen, the fire was long dead and Lucia’s bedchamber was cold.

She kept her eyes closed, vaguely aware of a distant birdsong and the noises of the city beyond the walls of the Red Keep. She breathed into her back and felt where it met the mattress beneath her, and as the haze of sleep began to fade she winced at the slight stiffness in her neck and the tenderness between her legs.

Her fingers crawled to the other side of the bed where the sheets were neat, seemingly undisturbed. She was alone then. She opened her eyes, part of her hoping it might not be true. The pieces of her gown were still laid over the chaise, the smell of sweat and sex lingered on her sheets, but any other traces of Aemond were gone.

One night, she told herself. One night and she would allow herself this indulgence for the sake of duty. Duty to her family. Duty to the realm. Duty to her husband. Duty to herself.

She never could have imagined how it might have felt to finally be so close to him, to hold him and feel every part of him. She felt herself fading from the world around her, consumed by the memory of his skin, his sapphire gleaming in the gentle candlelight, the smell of smoke and leather–

“The Queen mentioned your outburst.”

She looked up slowly from her plate of salted pork and eggs, at the three faces looking at her.

The Lord of Casterly Rock sat directly opposite her, his dull golden hair falling limply around a furious expression. Nothing good ever came of her meetings with the Lannisters, not for her anyhow.

Aunt Johanna– Lady Lannister, suited the colours of her husband’s house, red and gold against her Westerling features. Often she was quick to defend her niece, but in the last year her rebuttals of Lord Jason’s usual lectures had become few and far between. Her expression now was soft and unsure as she took small sips of her tea in silence.

“Before this morning’s meeting of the Small Council,” Lord Tyland added. He was a little more put together than his twin, more stately, his hair neatly combed, his scowl more stern than irritated. “She said there was some kind of disagreement with your husband that was only resolved at the intervention of Prince Aemond.”

Lucia held her tongue between her teeth. Aegon’s insults were hardly a disagreement. There was no conflict, it was just… him. She had sat passively for so many years and now rage boiled through her blood.

But she knew her duty.

She took a deep and gentle breath. “As it happens my husband and I have resolved our differences.”

The Lannister twins exchanged a brief look of disbelief.

“To some extent,” she added.

“How so-”

“I will not be elaborating,” she said, “the state of my marriage may be of concern to you but the details are certainly not.”

She spent the day in her chambers, reading, embroidering dragons into scrap pieces of cloth, picking holes in her bed clothes only to stitch them back together, anything to keep her busy so that she wouldn’t have to think.

But all she thought of was Aemond.

The invitation to take dinner with Helaena and Martyn Hightower came as a surprise.

Little Rhaella was thankfully starting to recover from her ailment and was a bright presence. The girl had her father’s brown eyes, but everything else was Helaena’s, the delicate silver hair and dreamy look on her face. Less than two years old and she was running frantically around the room, presenting Lucia with her collection of small wooden animals before she came toddling from the nursery with a dark blue dragon egg.

Martyn started to panic that she might break it but Helaena simply said in a soft and melodic voice, “hold it tight, my love,” and the girl did just that.

When the hour grew late for the little dragon, Lucia followed Helaena, Rhaella in one arm and the egg in the other, into the nursery. Helaena dressed her daughter herself, fed her a spoonful of honey and a few sips of tea for her throat, and sent her to sleep with Valyrian lullabies.

“It can feel like such a burden,” Helaena said, as they walked back to the dining room, “I was terrified of the whole ordeal, and at the end of my suffering came Rhaella.”

“She’s an angel,” Lucia said as they reached the dining room. A sliver of warm light shone through the door into the otherwise darkened corridor, bathing Helaena’s silver hair and pale blue gown in gold.

Helaena reached for Lucia’s hand and traced her finger over her palms, studying her skin as a scholar studies a book, or a healer studies a wound. “I do not envy your position,” she said. “It is easier with someone you love.”

Lucia tried to swallow but her throat was suddenly dry.

She tried to love Aegon. She still remembered their first meeting, in the throne room, before the court. She might have found him handsome if it weren’t for the distant look in his eyes, and the fact he wouldn’t even look at her.

Despite his initial indifference, he had showered her with affections on the day of their wedding. As they stood before the eyes of Gods and men to recite their vows, she saw only him, violet eyes bearing into hers, and when he kissed her, her fear faded. She allowed herself to hope that the Prince she had married was a man who embraced his duty, who would be kind, gentle and cherishing. He even did away with the bedding ceremony. The marriage would be consummated when she was ready, he said, a promise sealed with a chaste kiss to her cheek.

The first time he visited her chambers was a year into their marriage. He stumbled in as she was readying herself for bed, dragging with him the smell of stale wine and the streets of Fleabottom. She had never seen him in such a state. She had heard whispers, of course, of his exploits and his affections for serving girls, but never had he presented this part of himself to her.

At least he had been gentle when he guided her to her knees and entered her mouth. “A mercy to us both,” he slurred when it was over. He didn’t even seem to find much pleasure from it, just a motion to reach a release, and then he was gone.

“I love my husband,” Lucia whispered.

Helaena hummed to herself. “That’s rather not what I meant, dear sister.”

She frowned, but before she could press her further, Helaena swept into the dining room, singing a lullaby under her breath.

She didn’t care to eat much, save for a few cuts of beef and half an apple cake.

When she returned to her chambers, her eyes fell to a book upon the desk that had no place on her shelves. It was large, an old philosophy text with delicate pages and fraying binding, from Prince Aemond’s personal collection. He had leant it to her some weeks ago, but even after finishing it she had found herself reluctant to part with it. She couldn’t say why, if her interest was in the rhetoric of the Maester long since dead, or the fine calligraphy and illustrations drawn in colourful ink and plated with gold leaf. Perhaps it was the simple act of tracing her hands over the pages Aemond had studied so devotedly, having a part of him with her.

True, she had found his scar and constant intensity rather intimidating at first, and warmer friendships with Helaena and Daeron, but with Aemond she had found something more innate.

It began with comfortable silence. The library was a wonderful place to seclude herself, escape her husband and the prying eyes of the court, losing herself in tales of history. She had a particular fascination for the Conquest at the time and devoured chronicles of Aegon and his Queens, and their dragons, of course.

She was rather surprised one morning to see Aemond walking towards her reading table. They exchanged few words but mostly she was happy to simply sit beside him. The next day she returned the favour and, eventually, they managed a few formal conversations.

She lit up the first time he mentioned Vaghar.

“It is remarkable that such a beast of war should remain among us,” she said one gloomy afternoon as rain pelted against the window, so heavy they could not see Blackwater Bay beyond the gardens. “A living piece of history.”

Aemond smiled a little stiffly. “Indeed.”

“How did you first come to claim her?”

But her face fell with regret the moment she asked. By the way Aemond thinned his lips and clenched his fist, she had overstepped a line.

“It was simple really,” he said before she could utter an apology, “I offered myself to Vhagar and she accepted me.”

Her eyes flashed to his eyepatch, no longer fearful, but curious. “Were you scared?”

“Yes, and I overcame my fear.”

She did not question him further.

As years went by, Aegon slipped into his cups and the onslaught from the Queen, the Lannisters and every other Lord and Lady of the court began.

When she retreated to her usual hiding places, the library or the bench in the rose garden, Aemond was always the one to find her, to sit with her in settled silence with that soft expression she dared to think he reserved only for her.

So it was out of duty she found herself walking through the Holdfast with Aemond’s book under her arm.

There was no guard stood outside his door. She took a shallow breath and gave three gentle knocks.

He understood the moment he opened his door to her.

They concerned themselves little with the preamble. The book was forgotten on his desk as their lips met. She loved the desperation of it, the way he pawed at her dress and whimpered when she tugged on his hair.

“I’ve thought of nothing but you,” he uttered between their kisses, “I thought I might come to you tonight… I did not wish to presume.”

Always courtly and composed, it thrilled her to hear Aemond’s voice so breathless and raw. A warmth swelled in her chest, pride and lust, feeding off each other and intertwining until she could hardly form any thought other than him.

He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

She pulled back just a little, resting her thumb over the pillowy pink of his lips. “I cannot stay long,” she whispered, “someone will notice my absence.”

His hands settled on her waist, holding her gently, as though she were something precious, but with a firmness that fuelled her desire. “Let me take care of you, Princess.”

It was quicker than before. He turned her around and brought her to lean against a table, making quick work of hitching up her skirt and pulling down her small clothes.

He groaned to see her desire already dripping onto her thighs, tracing featherlight patterns over her skin and teasing her needy centre.

And then his hand came around her throat, a delicate hold, but it made her head spin as he inched his cock into her entrance and started to fuck her.

She gripped the edge of the table, unsure of what else to do with herself but moan and make breathy attempts at saying his name. The stretch of his cock inside her, his fingers working over her pearl and his light grunts in her ear, it all felt so perfect.

“Good girl,” he uttered, hot breath sending shivers over her skin “you take it so well for me, Princess.”

“This excites you, doesn’t it? That I’m his and not yours,” she teased.

“I think you like it,” he rasped, driving his hips faster against her rear, pushing himself deeper and deeper until he met that spot that left her body weak. “You need me, to fulfil your duty… your desire.”

If he was intending to tease her it was working. She could feel herself clenching around him, as her pleasure began to rise in her.

She nodded, hardly aware she was doing it. “I want you, Aemond, I need you.”

“Beg me for it. Beg me to paint this perfect little cunt.”

“Please… I want it… I want it…”

She fell against his chest as they came together. She could feel him draining inside her, fucking every last drop of his seed into her as his hand pressed against her stomach to keep her close against him. She gripped his hand and he didn’t seem to mind the crescent marks she left behind.

She savoured the stillness for a moment, the closeness, the fullness of his cock inside of her and the afterglow of her release.

“I meant it,” she said, “I find so little to be happy about. I do not love my husband. I resent my position. I allow myself so little hope.”

Aemond pressed an achingly light kiss to her temple. She leaned into his touch and held his hand a little tighter.

“I just want you,” she whispered.

“You may have me whenever you wish, Princess,” he said, trailing his lips down her cheek before he tilted her head back to meet him in a slow, contented kiss.

Once she had fixed her small clothes she headed to the door.

“Will you take me riding tomorrow?” She asked.

He raised his good eyebrow. “Riding?”

“To the Kingswood.”

The brow dropped. “Oh.”

“You didn’t think I meant…”

Aemond smirked at his own assumption. “Well, who am I to deny the wishes of my Princess?”

She passed one other person as she walked from Aemond’s chambers, a young maid with a timid face and a bundle of laundry in her arms. She kept her eyes fixed on the floor as she passed the Princess.

“Where are those from?”

The girl froze, like a squirrel catching sight of a dog. “Pardon, your Grace?”

“These–” Lucia gestured to the white lines, “where did they come from?”

“They are Prince Aegon’s, your Grace.”

“An unusual hour to be changing his bedclothes.”

“They… needed to be changed.”

Lucia sighed. “Has he overindulged himself in his cups tonight?”

“Quite so, your Grace.”

She thought for a moment. She could still feel Aemond’s seed spilling from her.

After briefly thanking the maid she walked on, past the corridor that led to her own chambers and towards her husband’s.

Aegon’s room smelled sour, of spilled wine and vomit. She could taste it on her tongue as she breathed. A loud snore sounded from the bed. Aegon was sprawled on his front, his clothes discarded on the floor around the bed.

The heels of her shoes clicked against the floor as she approached the bed, and he did not stir. She pulled back the covers on one side, and still, nothing.

She chewed on a piece of flesh in her mouth. Part of her thought she might regret this, but if it worked, she might never need to find herself in such a position again.

She undid her gown and removed her corset and shift, leaving them atop a chest by the window. The air was surprisingly warm against her bare skin.

With Aemond’s seed still spilling from her, she slipped into the bed, as far away from Aegon’s unconscious body as she could, though with his arm laying out it was difficult to avoid him.

She lay there, eyes closed and limbs stiff, and waited for the morning to come.

By the time it did her eyes were sore and she felt as though she had not slept, but she must have fallen asleep at some point because the early light took her by surprise.

Someone needed to see her in order for this to work, either a maid, come to leave the Prince his breakfast, or Aegon himself.

By some miracle of the Gods, the snoring stopped, and his fingers drifted over the skin of her arm.

“Wife,” Aegon muttered into his pillow, “I don’t recall summoning you.”

“Have you considered your memory may be improved if you drank less?”

“I drink just the right amount,” he grumbled, falling onto his back and stretching his arms out in front of him. He rubbed at his eyes, then he stared at her. “Did I fuck you?”

She rolled her eyes and hauled herself from the bed, fully revealing her bare body and the stain in his sheets. That seemed to be enough, and he muttered a crude curse as she started to dress herself.

“Congratulations husband, it only took us five years.”

He would only need to be fooled once.

As for Aemond she felt no need to deny her desires.

Their encounters in the library became stolen kisses hidden amongst the shelves. Rides into the Kingswood left her with swollen lips, tangled hair and bruises against her back. In every other aspect, their lives became a game, a hand on the small of her back as they walked through the gardens, whispers of sweet nothings as helped her practise her marksmanship, all to tease each other, to see how far they could push each other until one gave in.

They knew to avoid being seen alone after dark. Sometimes he visited her before breakfast, or else she would meet him in the training yard and walk back to his chambers with him. They often found themselves in more formal company, receptions, feasts, tourneys, and there was always a corner to stow away into, a brief moment for them to claim as their own.

Their familiarity did not raise any suspicion, as far as she could tell. Of the King’s children she had always cared less for Aegon than his siblings. Sometimes she thought the faces around her seemed to look at her a little curiously, but she and Aemond had already been friends for years and faced no scrutiny for it.

When she realised their efforts had become fruitful, Aemond was the first person she went to, breaking their usual rule of avoiding each other after dark. They sat together on a settee before the fire in his chambers, his arms around her as she leaned into his shoulder.

“I’ll protect you,” he whispered, “both of you, until my last breath, whatever may come.”

The labour lasted days, but at the end of it came Jaehaerys.

The whispers of the court were quelled, the Hightowers at last seemed to view her as something more than an inconvenience, and the realm celebrated the birth of a new Prince. A Prince with silver hair and violet eyes, just like his father.

Aemond visited the nursery every day, sitting by the cradle, stroking his finger over the babe’s delicate skin, or simply looking over his face. He read to him too. Lucia laughed at the ridiculousness of Aemond bringing volumes of his philosophy books and reciting arguments of ethics and existence to an infant. But it had some kind of effect, Jaehaerys’ eyes would always go wide at the sound of his uncle’s voice.

Lucia entered the nursery one evening. Aemond was leaning back in an armchair, with Jaehaerys cradled into his chest, their lips both parted and their breaths, fluttering as they slept, in perfect unison. They looked so content and peaceful, her boys.

Her fingers came to the Valyrian steel band around her ring finger and her heart sank. She had everything she wanted, her son, her Aemond, her position, and it all rested on a lie.

Even with Aemond’s love and promise of protection, she had never felt so unsure of herself.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x original female character #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond “pussy eater” targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfiction #my fics

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 2 months

Note

Do you know of any fics that are being regularly updated? Like current fics where the next chapter is being upload every tot days? I miss having a new chapter of a fic to look forward to reading 🥲🥲 please and thanks ♡♡

One way to check is to go on A03 and in work search, select the relationship you want - "Blaine anderson/Kurt Hummel" and you can select Works in Progress. Currently here are a handful updating regularly, if i don't mention your fic, please feel free to let me know. ~Jen

Undiscovered By @heartsmadeofbooks chap 1/?

All Blaine Anderson needs is a little help to put himself through school. That’s all. But he’s going to get so much more than he hoped for when he meets Kurt Hummel, the successful, sexy workaholic who in turn needs someone to make the loneliness disappear.

~~~~~

Klueless by @kurtsascot chap 4/22

It’s 1995. Kurt’s a senior at McKinley High, and he’s looking to lose his virginity and get his love life in order before he goes off to college.

Unfortunately, Blaine, the pretentious son of Burt’s ex-wife, is in Lima to intern for Burt’s congressional reelection campaign, and Kurt is stuck dealing with him until the election is over.

~~~~~

14 Stones of A curse by Anna_Timberlake @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion chap 5/15

“It's the only way to break the curse, Kurt. Believe me.”

These were the words that had driven 29-year-old Kurt Hummel to take a long break from his prestigious job at Vogue.com and travel approximately 3300 miles. He didn't know if it was true. But if it was, will he be able to break the long impending curse of his soulmate? Welcome to the journey of Kurt Hummel discoverying his past self and his soulmate.

Soulmates and fantasy- AU and reincarnation.

~~~~~

Falling for you By @bitbybitwrites chap 4/5

Doctor!blaine, florist!Kurt, Dadfic, Christmas

~~~~~

And longer fic, updating weekly/monthly:

Sonder by @gleefulpoppet chap 77/?

Kurt is one of the most respected and talked about men in the fashion industry and business world. His app Style•Revolution is the fastest-growing app in history, still rising after three years. Recently, he moved the company to Seattle to be at the heart of the newest technology epicenter in the United States. Yet, with all his success, experience keeps teaching him to be wary of people’s motives who want to be close to him, and he wonders if he’ll be alone forever. Or maybe this city has plans for him that he can’t imagine when his gaze locks with a mysterious, honey-hazel-eyed busker.

~~~~~

Out of Eden By @wowbright chap 64/75 est

As a gay Mormon, Kurt Hummel has decided to go the rest of his life without falling in love. But toward the end of his two years as a missionary in Germany, Elder Anderson moves into his apartment—and Kurt's best-laid plans fall apart.

~~~~~

Head over Feet By @spaceorphan18 chap 8/15

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

~~~~~

The Queen's Passageway By @coffeegleek Part 4 of one shots of Everybody's Naked & There's a Country to Run verse

This is an expansion upon the one-shot, Passage Ways, chapter 12 of One-Shots in the Everybody’s Naked & There’s a Country To Run verse. You don't have to know the verse to read it.

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #WIP

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ava-does-dumbassery · 11 months

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Translating Nyarlathotep’s names, titles, and epithets into Middle Egyptian for funsies

Middle Egyptian is the version of the Ancient Egyptian language that was spoken from about 2000 BCE (4000 years ago) to 1300 BCE (3300 years ago). I’ve been learning it for several months now, but since I am still learning there are many epithets I just do not know how to translate yet (and I could be wrong even about the ones I think I do know how to translate). Also, I’m pretty sure that the lore around Nyarlathotep is that he was in Egypt in the Old Kingdom, when they spoke Old Egyptian not Middle Egyptian, but I don’t know Old Egyptian so fuck it, we ball.

All the hieroglyphs I’m going to show here should be read left to right, top to bottom. If you want to change them to be read right to left (which is how hieroglyphs were usually read), you just have to mirror reverse them so they face the other way. Hieroglyphs can’t be read bottom to top, however, so you can’t change that. Some formatting changes would be required to change the ones that are primarily horizontal to being primarily vertical, and vice versa.

First off: His name.

Originally, I was going to start this post with a punishingly long explanation of exactly what all this means and why I have all these different variations of the name. I think an explanation like that is necessary to put somewhere on this post, but I don’t want to force people who just do not care to read all that, so I’ve put it at the very end beneath a “keep reading.”

Now for (some) epithets and titles:

“Mighty Messenger:”

Transliteration: wpwty wsr. A way to pronounce it: Weputy weser or uputy user.

“Great Messenger:”

Transliteration: wpwty wr. A way to pronounce it: Weputy wer or Uputy ur.

The “Black Pharaoh:”

There are two ways to write this one. The first is this:

Transliteration: nsw km. A way to pronounce it: Nesu kem.

It means “black king” not “black pharaoh,” but I think it might make more sense to say it this way. The way you’d say “black pharaoh” is like this:

Transliteration: pr-ʿȝ km. A way to pronounce it: Per a’a kem.

This literally means “the black Great House,” since the word “pharaoh” literally means “Great House.” This would be sort of like if Nyarlathotep appeared on earth today in the form of a United States president and we called him “the black White House,” or if he appeared as a Russian president and we called him “the black Kremlin.” The problem with this one is that I’m not so clear on if the rules for stacking adjectives would even allow for you to say this.

Also, fun fact, Ancient Egyptians considered black to be a good colour, since they associated it with the fertile soil beside the Nile. So this title would not be sinister to them. Like if Nyarlathotep appeared as a US president and we called him “the cool awesome White House.”

“Soul (of the Other Gods):”

Transliteration: kȝ kywy nṯrw. A way to pronounce it: Ka keywey netcheru.

It’s hard to just translate “soul” directly into Egyptian because the Ancient Egyptians didn’t just believe in “a soul,” they believed in a bunch of different parts of a soul that all did different things. The part I’ve used for this translation is the ka, because I think it’s the closest to what we might think of when we hear the word “soul.” I think you could make an argument that since Nyarlathotep’s job is to go and enact the Other God’s will for them, he could be considered their akh, but the akh is a very distinctly Egyptian concept and has lot to do with being dead and getting to the Egyptian afterlife, so I don’t think it works well here. You might also argue that he could be their heart (ib) since the Egyptians thought that you did your thinking with your heart instead of your brain, and Nyarlathotep seems to be a lot more capable of thought than the rest of the “blind, voiceless, mindless” Other Gods, but hearts don’t go out and do things for you so I don’t think that one works either.

“Soul and messenger (of the Other Gods):”

Transliteration: kȝ wpwty kywy nṯrw. A way to pronounce it: Ka weputy keywey netcheru.

“God of a Thousand Forms:”

Transliteration: nṯr ḫprw ḫȝ. A way to pronounce it: Netcher kheperu kha.

Also, as a bonus, I noticed while I was looking for epithets to translate that Fungi From Yuggoth calls Azathoth the “Lord of All.” That’s an Azathoth epithet, so I don’t really have an excuse to translate it into Egyptian, but “Lord of All” is also a common epithet for the Egyptian god Horus. If I ever write that thing about Egyptian gods fighting Nyarlathotep then I will find a way to exploit this. Anyway, here’s how you can say “Lord of All:”

Transliteration: nb tm. A way to pronounce it: Neb tem.

Nyarlathotep’s name is kind of a nightmare to try and spell with the Ancient Egyptian alphabet (good for him, he’d probably want it that way). Here’s my long ass explanation of why I chose to write it the ways I did in this post:

Why is his name spelled without vowels?:

In Ancient Egyptian writing, the vowels are usually left out and only the consonant sounds in words are written down (it’s a lot like Hebrew in this way). The Egyptians eventually did create a system for writing vowels, and that was used for words that Egyptian readers wouldn’t already know how to pronounce, like foreign names. Nyarlathotep, coming from outer space, would be pretty foreign to them, but the earliest vocalic writing is from the end of the Old Kingdom. I’m going to use that as an excuse to say it didn’t exist when he was around and just not bother with it, because there is no way to spell his name in any vocalic writing system that isn’t incomplete and/or confusing (there are two A’s in there and one of them is right next to an L and that is An Issue). The Is in the spellings of his names with the eye symbol in them do not count as vowels, because they are actually transliteration symbols for a consonant sound.

The L sound:

The L sound in his name is an issue because Ancient Egyptian languages might have had an L sound in them, at some point, but they might’ve not. Basically: If you’ve ever done one of those things that will tell you how to write your name in hieroglyphs, you’ve probably been told that this vulture glyph 𓄿 makes an A sound. That is only true in certain types of vocalic writing. The rest of the time it made a consonant sound. We don’t know what consonant sound, though, because the Egyptians stopped pronouncing it in the New Kingdom. Our best guess (based on it being used to transcribe words from other languages that we know had L and R sounds) is that it made a sound like L or R, which is why I’ve used it here for the L sound.

Why are there all those variations around the TH sound?:

Ancient Egyptian languages did not have a TH sound, and the Egyptian letter T and the Egyptian letter H did not combine to make a new sound like they do in English. They did have an F sound, so you could just spell it Nyarlafotep instead. However, “hotep” (transliteration: ḥtp) is an actual Ancient Egyptian word. It means “peace.” Many Ancient Egyptian names are the name of a god + ḥtp, for example “Amenhotep” which means “Amen is at peace.” That the Ancient Egyptians would have thought Nyarlathotep’s name meant that someone called Nyarlat was at peace is too deliciously ironic to ignore, and that meaning is lost if you spell it NYRLFTP. The two options to preserve that meaning are to make the T the bread loaf glyph 𓏏 (this would change the pronunciation to Nyarlat-hotep) or to try and keep the TH sound somewhat by putting the horned viper glyph 𓆑 in there (this would change the pronunciation to Nyarlaf-hotep).

What do the variations with the eye sign in them mean?:

The eye sign is a hieroglyph that makes two consonant sounds. These sounds are transliterated ir, but that i does not represent an actual I sound (except in vocalic writing). Usually, i made a glottal stop sound, but sometimes it made a Y sound. This means you could use the eye glyph for the consonants YR in his name (and this is cosmic horror, where we like eyeballs and put them on everything wherever we can). However, this might make the name even more confusing to read, because it makes it easy to mistake the Y in the name for a glottal stop.

Why is his name in a cartouche?:

The names of pharaohs (and only pharaohs) were written inside cartouches. And not just any of the pharaoh’s names. Pharaohs had several different types of names, and only the throne name and birth name were written in cartouches. This means it could be debated wether or not it would be proper for his name to be written in a cartouche. However, Nyarlathotep is not actually from Egypt, he’s from space, and at least one of the stories he’s in portrays him as a showman who uses aesthetic connections to Ancient Egypt as a gimmick to get people to come see his brainwashing prophecies of doom, so I feel like he would not care if it was proper or not and would use it anyway because it’s a very recognizable piece of iconography. But if we found hieroglyphic carvings by Ancient Egyptians that warned of the evils of the god Nyarlathotep, his name might not be written in a cartouche and instead be written with the determinative for god 𓀭 after it.

#nyarlathotep #cthulhu mythos #lovecraft #ancient egypt #lovecraftian horror #cosmic horror #lovecraftian #ancient egypt stuff #ava has thoughts #id in alt #tw caps

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diocletiansbikelane · 11 months

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Inaugural post, I’d like everybody to internalize that the Netherlands did not rise out of the primordial soup as a cycling paradise.

In fact in the 1950s and 60s we were pretty busy making plans to roll highways through cities, looking at cars as the ✨ future ✨ and trying to follow America’s lead - including hiring American planners, some of whom advocated flattening entire historic neighborhoods to do so (like plan Joniken). In the 1970s Amsterdam was deciding whether to rebuild a historic neighborhood that had been partially demolished to build the new subway or build a four lane road there, and the road plan was defeated by just one vote (crucially the wife of one of the councilmembers who voted to restore the old street layout was about to have her baby, but he stuck around long enough for the vote).

In the 1970s many Dutch streets were what I’d graciously term car gutters, cluttered end to end with traffic, and the number of traffic deaths kept rising, peaking in the early 1970s with about 3300 deaths - 400 of whom were children. There was a growing “damn we can’t keep living like this” realization

Amsterdam traffic in the 70s

People began protesting and advocating for change, including the admirably bluntly named “stop de kindermoord” (‘stop the childmurder’) campaign, among many others. These campaigns did stuff like block streets and hold dinner parties there, holding demonstrations and illegally painting lanes on the road at night, but also by identifying traffic bottlenecks and producing a huge report with practical solutions. It was a constant struggle and they had to fight for every street, but they got results and their progress is reflected in the official standards that all streets have to meet, which over the course of a few decades of regular street maintenance and redesigns meant the entire country steadily became bike friendly. The effects can be seen in the statistics (below are traffic deaths per year, divided by type of vehicle, red is cars, light blue is bikes, dark blue pedestrians). The proportion of young children who died in traffic also fell sharply. Don’t let yourself be fooled into thinking the Netherlands just emerged as a place with a cycling culture out of nowhere - people fought tooth and nail to get the cars to fuck off

#cycling #urbanism #street design

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mikeepoo · 3 months

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tendaysofrain · 1 year

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Random Stuff #13: Cats in China--History (Part 1)

(Warning: Very long post ahead with multiple pictures!)

(Link to Part 2)

Since this topic is pretty big, I will split the content across 4 posts, but even then these posts will only be a shallow summary of the subject.

This small series of posts is dedicated to my fluffy quadrupedal friend, 小葱 (Little Green Onion).

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Did you know that there are over 200 cats in the Palace Museum/故宫博物院 in Beijing? Some of these cats were descendants of the pet cats of the imperial family hundreds of years ago, and some of these cats were simply strays, but they all found a home in the Palace Museum, and are now being fed and taken care of by the museum employees. You may even catch a glimpse of one of these cats during a visit to the museum.

Here are two of these cats, Jixiang/吉祥 (right; name means “auspicious”) and Ruyi/如意 (left; name means “(may things go) according to (one’s) wishes”)

Speaking of the Old Palace and royal kitties, cats actually have a fairly long history of being mousers and human companions in China, and sometimes they were even seen as powerful spirits to be both worshipped and feared.

Cats As Guardian Spirits

According to archaeological evidence, in China, cats came into people’s lives as early as 5300 years ago (~3300 BC). People of the Neolithic Yangshao Culture/仰韶文化 (~5000 - 3000 BC) in what is now central China grew millet, rice, and vegetables. These crops were bound to attract small rodents like mice and rats to human villages, which attracted wild cats in turn. There were no evidence showing that these wild cats had any sort of special or intimate bond with humans yet, so the relationship was likely a simple mutualistic relationship in which cats benefitted from having a steady source of prey, while humans benefitted from having their harvest protected from rodents. In the Book of Rites/《禮記》, a book detailing Zhou dynasty (1046 - 256 BC) etiquettes, administration, and ceremonial rites, there was a passage on the religious aspect of this mutualistic relationship:

“The wise and gentle rulers of yore will always repay the good deeds that others have done for them. Welcome the cats, for they are hunters of mice; welcome the tigers, for they are hunters of boars; welcome them and worship them”. (“古之君子，使之必報之。迎貓，為其食田鼠也；迎虎，為其食田豕也，迎而祭之也。”)

-- Book of Rites, The Great Suburban Sacrificial Rites chapter (《禮記·郊特牲》).

As we can see in this short passage, people in ancient China regarded cats as spiritual beings--one of eight important animal spirits worshipped in the great ritual at the end of the year that must be performed by the ruler--and made offerings to them as a way to thank them for controlling rodent populations in the fields and protecting the year’s harvest.

^ Illustration by 国馆 on Zhihu.

Cats as Evil Ghosts

In ancient folk belief, however, cats eventually became associated with wugu/巫蛊, which can be generally understood as “witchcraft” or “black magic”. Practitioners would sacrifice cats and keep “cat ghosts”/猫鬼, then send them out to curse whoever they wish to harm and steal money from. There was one famous case of this during Sui dynasty (581 - 618 AD) that was recorded in Book of Sui /《隋書》, the traditional official historical records of Sui dynasty that was completed in 636 AD. As the chapter “Consort Kin” (《隋書·外戚》) described, when Empress Dugu and Head of Secretariat Yang Su’s wife fell ill, the doctors diagnosed their illnesses as “caused by cat ghosts”. Emperor Wen of Sui/隋文帝 (personal name Yang Jian/楊堅) assumed that Dugu Tuo/獨孤陀 was behind the mysterious illnesses since Dugu Tuo was the paternal half-brother of Empress Dugu and his wife was the paternal half-sister of Yang Su, but Dugu Tuo denied having anything to do with it. So his household was questioned, and finally one of his housemaids confessed to be a practitioner of “witchcraft” and that she had cursed Empress Dugu and Yang Su’s family with her cat ghost under orders from Dugu Tuo. Dugu Tuo was stripped of all his titles along with his wife, and both were demoted to commoner status. So as we can see it was big enough in folk belief that it actually made its way into some imperial family drama. After this event, Emperor Wen of Sui declared a ban on these practices that were meant to cause harm to others.

^ A modern illustration of a “Cat ghost”, from the work titled Hundred Ghosts of China/《中国百鬼录》.

Cats in Analogies and Folklore

Cats have also been used in the classic cat-and-mouse analogies in different situations. During Wu Zetian/武則天’s ascent to power in Tang dynasty in 655 AD, she was involved in a power struggle with Empress Wang and Consort Xiao, and after some back-and-forths, Empress Wang and Consort Xiao were demoted to commoner status and imprisoned. Consort Xiao then cursed Wu Zetian, saying:

“May you become a mouse and I a cat, so I can choke you!” (”願阿武為老鼠，吾作貓兒，生生扼其喉！”)

-- Old Book of Tang, ”Empresses and Consorts Part 1”/《舊唐書· 后妃上》

Apparently after this happened, Wu Zetian banned cats from the palace out of fear.

Another example of this cat-and-mouse analogy was the memorial Su Shi/蘇軾 submitted to Emperor Shenzong of Song/宋神宗 (personal name Zhao Xu/趙頊) that argued against the parts of the reform proposed by Wang Anshi/王安石. This memorial was preserved and later named《上神宗皇帝書》. In it, Su Shi argued that government officials must be able to freely object another official’s proposal in order to prevent treacherous officials from gaining too much power with this analogy:

“We keep cats in order to keep mice at bay, but we cannot keep cats who can’t catch mice just because there are no mice around; we keep dogs in order to keep burglars away from our homes, but we cannot keep dogs that don’t bark just because there are no burglars around”. (”然而養貓所以去鼠，不可以無鼠而養不捕之貓。畜狗所以防奸，不可以無奸而畜不吠之狗”)

There weren’t only cat-and-mouse analogies, however. There's a short fable about cats and tigers that was passed down through the generations from at least Song dynasty all the way to the present day. Even I have heard of this story as a child. In this fable, the tiger was initially very clumsy, so the tiger asked a cat to teach it how to hunt. The cat agreed and taught the tiger how to track down, stalk, pounce, and play with prey, but refrained from teaching the tiger about tree-climbing. The tiger eventually mastered the art of hunting, and one day the tiger turned on its teacher, the cat, who then climbed atop a tree to save its own life. The moral of the story was either “never teach others everything you know, in case they use your knowledge against you”, or “never teach those who are ungrateful”, which resulted in the xiehouyu/歇后语 (a type of Chinese proverb) “cat teaching the tiger -- withhold some of your abilities” (“猫教老虎--留一手”). Of course, this fable doesn’t really stand in terms of scientific accuracy, seeing as tigers are proficient tree-climbers themselves, but the fable itself is still very interesting nonetheless. Although the origin of this fable has now faded into obscurity, the earliest record I could find was from the self-annotation on the poem “Mocking the Cats”/《嘲畜貓》 by the famous Song-era poet Lu You/陸游 in 1198 AD, which showed that this fable was already popular in folk culture in Southern Song dynasty:

“In folk belief cats were the uncles of tigers, they taught the tigers everything except how to climb trees”. (“俗言貓為虎舅，教虎百為惟不教上樹”)

^ Modern illustration of the fable, from children’s book The Tiger and the Cat by Eitaro Oshima.

Historical texts showed that at least from Southern and Northern dynasties (420 - 589 AD) and on, most people kept cats for their ability to catch mice, and oftentimes keeping cats as just house pets was something that was still limited to royalty, nobility, and rich people. But as we would see in Part 2, there were evidence from Song dynasty that showed a definite change in how cats were viewed in the ordinary household.

(Part 2 Here!)

#cats #chinese history #chinese culture #chinese folklore #cat #random stuff #history

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az-cain · 1 year

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Bruised Thighs/Flowery Sheets

rhett abbott x reader ≈ 3300 words

TUMBLR ATE THE ASK DAMMIT, i am so so sorry anon, but it said:

If you're taking requests...sub!Rhett needing help to clear out his mind after having a rough ride and he can't stop the self-doubt. Poor boy just needs to be fucked so good his brain stops functioning 😈

this is pure filth! i love it. so fun to write. thank you to @girl-in-the-chairs-void for encouraging me and my terrible thoughts lmao, i wouldn’t have picked it back up today were it not for you.

TW FOR: description of bruises and hard landings, mild angst, brief mention of shitty fathers and poor body image, food and a poor relationship with it (ice cream), mild dacryphilia (crying kink), spanking, oral sex m&f!receiving, anal fingering m!receiving, pegging, dumbification, pet names (honey, baby, good boy, sweetie, darlin’)

Rhett’s thighs always hurt after a ride. The bull’s bucking consistently left his legs black and blue, so he’d grown accustomed to the pain. What he hadn’t grown accustomed to, however, was the sting of his forearms smacking the dirt on a bad dismount. The gravel dug in even through the thick shirt he wore, and the disappointment pierced through his skin beside it. As he scrambled away from the raging bull and into the pen, he sighed heavily, wearily, looking at the time. Five seconds. He hadn’t even made it ¾ of where he needed to be.

As he passed by his father, who clapped him on the back with a lightly-disguised look of displeasure and murmured common words of reassurance, he struggled to smile gratefully. He’d had an off day, he knew that was all. It was only a qualifier, so he wasn’t out of the game. Still, the stinging anger that rested behind his eyes refused to subside until he saw you.

You had his red flannel unbuttoned across your chest and your sports bra exposed to the wind, the summer night heat beating down on the whole stadium. Your jean shorts were just long enough to be decent, and the smile you gave him was anything but. His worries melted away, now just residing in his mind as a quiet nagging voice.

“Hey, baby,” you grinned, wrapping your arms around him eagerly and letting him bury his sweaty forehead in your equally sweaty neck. “How are you feeling after that dismount?”

He pulled back and tried to smile, lips quivering slightly, but ultimately shook his head in resignation. “Not great.”

You rubbed up and down his upper arms, meeting his eyes with a sad smile. “I know. You want to go get ice cream?”

He nodded with a sniffle, feeling like a child. He knew, though, that you only wanted to cheer him up. So, as you led him to his truck and pulled his keys out of your pocket to unlock it, he straightened his back and tried to push his bad thoughts from his mind.

Did it work? Not entirely.

As you shifted into drive, he clicked his seatbelt into place and felt you set your hand on his knee. You rubbed comforting circles on the soft skin and hummed along to the pop song filtering through the stifling summer air, made more tolerable by the blasting A/C and the open windows. He was struck, silently, by how much he loved you, and it gave him pause. Your hand on his knee calmed him significantly, almost enough to make him stop thinking about his off day.

As you pulled into the Dairy Queen drive-thru, you moved your hand back to the steering wheel. “Same as always?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled gently, so entirely enamored with you.

He listened to you order for the two of you, the crackling response that was nearly inaudible, and your loud “thank you.” As you waited in the drive-thru line, you cranked up the radio and plugged in the classic rock cassette he’d recorded for you, much to your amusement.

A number of sleazy songs played loudly across his cheap, 20-year-old speakers, and as you sang— or belted, rather— the lyrics, he couldn’t find it in him to care that the two of you were being the annoying drive-thru patrons everyone despised. The pencil you’d found to use as a microphone was dropped into the cupholder as you lowered the volume and met the teenager’s extended hand with a thank you, collecting the two cups of ice cream that you handed to him. He took small spoonfuls of the stuff as you drove home, the negative thoughts seeping back in in the form of body image. He wondered if he’d have gotten a better time today if he didn’t eat so much ice cream.

Of course, he knew that these thoughts were silly, so he did his best to put them out of his mind as you pulled into the driveway of your home and helped him out of the car, offering yourself as a brace for his bruised thighs and stinging forearms.

You entered the house together, settled on the dark couch and ate silently with one another, content to simply be in each others’ presence. When you’d both finished, you took his cup and ventured into the kitchen to throw both away before returning to your seat. At your gesture, he laid his head upon your thigh and let your hands come to rest in his hair. You sat there, running your fingers through his long hair for minutes, until you began to want more.

You tugged lightly on it, just testing the waters, and Rhett keened, whimpering through the muffling of his palm. “Please,” he whined quietly. A faint smile split your cheeks and you hummed, continuing to scratch his scalp like you’d never pulled on it. “Want you,” he continued, turning to meet your eyes and lifting his hips off of the soft couch to try and find friction against his jeans.

Chuckling softly at his neediness, you nodded. “Okay, honey. Let’s go to the bedroom.” With that, you patted his shoulder to make him move, and stood up behind him. When he moved slowly because of his sore thighs, you smacked his ass. A loud groan ripped through him— and through you— as you said “C’mon, baby.”

He started walking faster, your legs keeping easy pace, and made it into the bedroom quickly. He turned around and grabbed for you, pressing his lips to yours eagerly.

“Need you, please,” he whined again, to which you pressed your lips against his harder, biting at his bottom lip and swiping your tongue against his. His desperation only served to turn you on, lightning ripping through your lower abdomen.

You pressed one more harsh kiss against his lips before you squeezed his ass and commanded, “Strip.”

Ever obedient, he reached to tug off his tight t-shirt as you took a step backwards. He shed the rest of his clothes quickly, his boots slipping off of his feet with ease, jeans and boxers falling to the carpet with the quiet whoosh of denim against skin. You watched eagerly as his cock, red and swollen, smacked against his milky-white thigh; you listened as he whimpered from the small amount of contact. You felt yourself clench with excitement as his hand twitched towards it, but you met his eyes and shook your head solemnly. He pursed his lips, breathing heavily, and nodded quickly in return.

“Good boy,” you crooned, approaching him again. One of your fingers traced along the ridge of his cock, a hum breaking from your chest as he bucked against you with a cry. “Stay still for me, sweetie. I’ll give you what you need.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The words were quiet, but the obedience warranted some kind of reward; noting this, you kissed down his neck, to his torso, to his Adonis belt, to the base of his cock, all the while slipping to your knees before him.

His breathing sped up, bruised thighs clenching and unclenching as he struggled to stay still for you. “Good boy,” you said, kissing along the tops of his thighs gently, working ever closer with each kiss.

Finally, reaching the wiry hair at the top of his cock, you looked up to meet his eyes. His eyes were foggy, lust-addled and exhausted, but when he met yours, you saw them warm up slightly with adoration.

You held that eye contact as you kissed down his length, gently taking the tip into your mouth and suckling lightly. A wail broke from his lips as he doubled over, hands balling up into fists with concentration. “Please, please, oh god—” Rhett breathed the words quietly, just loud enough to be heard over your own breaths.

The resolve to be good for you made you moan around him, your thighs pressing together to find some sort of friction. Your mouth popped off of his tip with a pleased hum. “Use your words, baby.”

He struggled to meet your eyes, his pretty blues looking straight through you for a moment before you snapped your fingers to catch his attention. He focused in on you, just barely, and you raised your brows. “Words, darlin’.”

He nodded absentmindedly, trying to gather his thoughts. “Please, oh— please suck me off— or— or fuck me, please,” he stuttered out, breaths coming quickly as he tried to process what he was asking for.

You closed your hand around one of his ass cheeks, avoiding the tender bruises. In response, you got a broken moan and a few senseless words of thanks. “Good boy, thank you for telling me what you need. Let me take care of you, sweet thing.”

Finally, you opened your mouth and let his dick fall onto your tongue, drool sliding down the length of it. You used your spare hand to collect the moisture, stroking it from where it fell from your mouth to the base of his cock. He sobbed above you quietly, eyes still fogged when you look up. The wiry hair scratched at your hand as you held his base tightly, allowing yourself to take him into your throat carefully, but not wanting him to let go just yet. It was a struggle not to gag, as it always was, because his cock filled your throat with so pleasant an ache. Still pushing your thighs together, you shifted your weight slowly to try and find some relief against your clit, moaning harshly around him when you succeeded, punching a groan out of him at the vibrations.

The hand that remained on his ass started to squeeze again, working its way between his cheeks. You sunk your middle finger in, searching for his rim. Finding it rather quickly, you reveled in the loud, strangled noises he made as you circled it with some pressure. He begged and pleaded for more nearly incoherently. “Oh god, please, oh my god,” was most of what you pieced together. Not deigning to pull off of him to respond, tongue and mouth still working around him, you pushed those two fingers in gently, more harsh crows tearing from his chest.

Distantly, you mourned the fact that you wouldn’t get to take him down your throat entirely, needing to keep that hand there for his sake. But still, you were having your fun and getting off on just this, your spit dripping down his cock and onto your wrist, and the middle finger from your other hand teasing lightly around his most sensitive spot. He was sobbing above you, hands balled into fists as he approached the edge but couldn’t quite reach it.

Quiet whines, praises, and pleas left his throat, high-pitched and needy; putty in your hands. Your jaw had begun to ache rather quickly, the sheer girth of him making the fun short-lived. So, pulling back and standing up, you told him to get on the bed. You tore your own shirt and pants off of your body, needing your overheated skin exposed to the air.

Rhett had laid down face-up, just how you’d wanted. Walking up to him, you slipped a finger between your thighs to show him just how slick you were. You were positively aching: throbs of pleasure were radiating through your hips with every step you took, the sight of his cock twitching against him and the sound of his whimpers only exacerbating the issue.

When you reached the bed, you climbed up onto him to straddle his face, his eyes following your pussy eagerly. “Oh fuck,” he whined, hips canting off the bed with desire, before you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock again, He panted below you, breaths completely erratic as you settled down onto him. Your hand tangled in his hair, balancing you directly over his open mouth as you kept a tight clutch on his dick. Licking eagerly into you, Rhett pushed his hips down to try and keep from thrusting into your fist. As a reward and in order to satisfy that ache, you ground down against him. His nose caught your clit, and you groaned a guttural sound that sounded like you were being torn in two. Again, and again, his nose caught your clit, and you felt that tightness ratchet higher and higher within you. After one more good grind down against his open mouth, his tongue trying to work its way inside of you, you let go, collapsing forward as you let his cock go, one hand clutching tightly into his hair and the other against the headboard. Shocks wracked your body, moans leaving your mouth entangled with expletives in a stream. You sat atop him for a few more moments, still clenching lightly as you tried to gather yourself.

When you finally felt that you’d recovered, you dismounted his face with one more grind and strutted to the bathroom to get the strap-on, sure to sway your hips for the boy watching. You pulled it and the lube from the cabinet you kept it in and rinsed it thoroughly, removing any dust that may have settled since you last used it— purely a precaution, but you were nothing if not thorough. Having shook most of the water off and slid the harness and vibrating dildo on, you shut the bathroom light off and emerged to find Rhett face-down on the bed, knees spread below him and hands clutching the sheets beside his head.

“Oh, darlin’, you’re so smart. Just what I wanted to see,” you crooned, one hand coming up to smack the unbruised part of his ass as you approached the bed. He rocked forward with the impact, arching his back towards you as he cried out.

You popped the cap of your water-based lube and slicked your fingers, warming them up for a moment before tracing circles around his asshole and slipping two fingers into him. With a loud moan, he pressed back against you, ignoring your command to stay still for the first time that night.

Smacking him lightly again, you scoffed lightheartedly. “Already fucked stupid? Stay still, baby.”

He nodded, sobbing muffled apologies into his pillowcase as you worked another finger in. Taking his sobs as a good enough apology, you grabbed for the base of him again and pressed gently at his prostate. He wailed into the pillowcase, his head flying back and forth as he struggled to keep still for you.

When you pulled your fingers back, he settled down a little, just enough to catch his breath. Moving up enough to level your hips with his, you smiled down at the sight of his farmer’s tan-striped back arched against your flowery sheets, the perfect composition of beauty, before you pressed the head of the silicone cock into his ass.

Slipping past his rim, you continued to slide in slowly, letting him adjust to the width of the toy splitting him. You didn’t use this one often, usually opting for the thinner pink one, but you really wanted to fuck the brains out of him tonight. It seemed that this toy was the right choice for that objective, because he was babbling mindlessly into the pillow, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth.

With a smile, you pulled your hips back, then slammed into him with all of your might, sure to angle your hips down. He screamed into the pillow, hands fisting the sheets as he let go, streaks of come spurting onto the bed as he shook like a leaf. “Fuck!” You heard, the first intelligible word you’d gotten in minutes. He rocked back against you and continued his babbling, still recovering from his last orgasm but wanting more.

With a smile, you continued to rock into him slowly, stroking up and down his back with a nail for a few minutes to allow him to recover. When his breathing seemed to return to a steady pace and his hands had returned to an open position, you reached down to flip on the vibrator, the harness resting against your clit perfectly.

He jumped at the sudden change, but quickly melted again with a moan when he realized what happened. “Oh my god…” he sighed, hands balling into fists once more. You rocked into him slowly, testing the waters, before slamming your hips against his ass and setting a grueling pace.

The vibrator allowed you to find pleasure, steadily building both of you up as you whispered praises to the cowboy underneath your hands. You ran your palms along his ass, squeezing occasionally to get a garbled moan out of him.

Angling your hips down, you set yourself to getting him off at the same time as you, because you felt yourself rapidly approaching that peak. “C’mon, baby, I know you can do it,” you murmured half to yourself and half to him as you nailed his prostate. He rubbed his face into the pillow at the thrusts, trying desperately to muffle his desperate sounds.

You leaned back and wrapped your hand tightly around his cock, throbs resonating through your hips as you tried to hold on. Just as you were about to give up and let go, he wailed into the pillow and thrust his hips into your palm, hot, sticky ropes of come falling onto the bed. Content, you thrust into him one more time to rub your clit harshly along that bump in your harness, letting go with a cry of your own and grinding your hips against his as you rode it out. The waves died down, your walls still clenching lightly as you pulled off of him and discarded your harness in the bathroom sink. You grabbed a towel and ran warm water over it and wiped yourself down before repeating the process and bringing the cloth to the bedroom.

He murmured your name, reaching back to stroke your hair when you bent over his back to kiss his neck. “Roll over, baby,” you murmured against his skin. With a groan, he obeyed you, his eyes cracking open to meet your own.

You tenderly wiped his thighs and ass, wary of his hiss of discomfort, meeting his eyes again and only continuing at his nod. You folded the cloth to swipe quickly at his sweaty armpits and chest before you tugged him out of the bed, throwing the blankets (that had luckily been at the foot of the bed) to the floor, stripping the sheets, and removing the bed cover. You turned to tread to the linen closet to grab the extra sheets, turning over your shoulder to see him behind you, butt-naked and tired, coming to help you.

You waited for him to catch up and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, continuing to walk to the closet and collecting the sheets. After you’d returned to the bedroom, you struggled to put the fitted sheet on together, threw the flat sheet on top, and reassembled your bed set.

Utterly tired, you collapsed into bed together, your head lying on his chest and feet curled behind you. You turned to press a kiss to his bare chest, eyes closed, and whispered against his skin, “I love you, Rhett.”

He pressed a big, scar-mottled, and calloused hand to your hair and bent to kiss your head: you felt the rumble in his own chest and the swell in your own when he opened his mouth and got nothing coherent out, his “I love you too” sounding more like an “Aluh’y’t…”

#rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbot x female reader #rhett abbott x f!reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott pegging #sub!rhett abbott #sub rhett abbott #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fluff #rhett abbott angst #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott fanfiction #outer range #outer range smut #az writes

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shame-is-a-wasted-emotion · 4 months

Text

A new Valentine fic for the Klaine Valentine's challenge

14 Stones Of A Curse

Rating:Explicit

Archive Warning:Major Character Death

Category:M/M

Fandoms:Glee,Glee Klaine,Klaine-Fandom

Relationship:Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel

Characters:Blaine Anderson,Kurt Hummel,Burt Hummel,Sebastian Smythe,Finn Hudson,Sam Evans (Glee)

Chapters: 1 and 2 / 15

Summary:

“It's the only way to break the curse, Kurt. Believe me.”

Soulmates and fantasy- AU and reincarnation.

The Prologue and Chapter 1 are up guys!

Written for the Kaine Valentine's challenge by @klaineccfanficlibrary

A very big shout out to the amazing betas @esperantoauthor and @england-would-fall for their untiring effort to make this fic possible.

Day 1 song prompt: Padam Padam by Kylie Minogue

Follow my story or tumblr page for the story update. This may not be posted in a scheduled manner.

#klainevalentines2024 #new fic #blaine and kurt #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #lgbtq #Soulmates #Past life #reincarnation #fantasy #padam padam #kylie minogue #Opal stone #I hope you guys like it

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november-rayne · 11 months

Text

Chapter Nineteen: Seeing

Summary: Frigga uses her sight to discover how the fates intervened to answer Astrid's prayer.

Word Count: 3300

Rating: Mature

*This story is for mature audiences only.* 18+

*Minors DNI*

Chapter Index

Frigga and Astrid were sitting together near a cluster of flowering dogwood trees. The pink and white petals blanketed the stones along the path to where the ladies were seated at a small wrought iron table. An assortment of nuts, cheese, and dates sat on an intricate golden tray. The warm breeze made the petals dance and flutter as the ladies sipped their tea. They had a wonderful conversation until the subject shifted to the wedding.

The Queen set her teacup on the table and asked, “You seem preoccupied, Astrid. Is something the matter?”

“Apologies, Your Majesty. The wedding approaches quickly. I am trying to come to terms with going home without my little girl.”

Frigga placed her hand over Astrid’s and gave it a few little pats. “I understand how difficult that must be.”

“I am happy for my daughter to be getting married and to a prince at that.” She smiled at the queen, “I will miss her terribly. We may not agree on much, but I could always count on seeing her every day. I know I should be grateful for all my years with her.” She sighed, “Why do they have to grow up so fast?”

“It is the cruelty of becoming a mother, I’m afraid. Although eventually, we will be rewarded with grandchildren. Won’t that be wonderful?”

Astrid smiled, “Sigyn has wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember. She had quite the doll collection. Erik would bring her a new ‘baby’ every time he returned home from a trip, every birthday, anytime she got good marks in school, any opportunity he could.” Her smile fell.

“Then the dolls were eventually replaced with dresses, shoes, and jewelry. We spoiled her, but how could we not?” She shrugged her shoulders, “She is our miracle. My answered prayer.”

“And you believe Loki to be the one who answered your prayer?”

Astrid looked sheepishly at Frigga, “I do not have any other explanation. He remembered my unspoken prayer word for word.”

Frigga took Astrid’s hands in hers, “The golden apples from Idunn’s tree affect each of us differently. Loki can tap into someone’s mind, see their memories and hear their thoughts, but I’ve never seen him heal anyone. Perhaps he heard your prayer because you were holding him? He needs to be touching someone to read their thoughts.”

“Well, yes, I would hold him on my lap, stroke his hair, and hold his chubby little hands as he drifted off to sleep. And I would pray. Over and over, I would pray for another baby of my own. I went to the nursery almost every day that we were here.”

“There is no doubt that Loki heard your mind.” Frigga furrowed her brow and looked off into the distance, pondering. “I will need to do some scrying to see how exactly you were able to conceive.”

She looked at Frigga with wide eyes. “How old was he when you fed him the golden apple?”

“Odin was insistent that the boys got their apples as soon as they had teeth.”

“Oh, goodness. So, they were both babies at the time?”

“Yes, their ceremonies were each quite comical. Thor shrieked after he finished his apple and was not permitted to take another. Loki had just learned to sit up on his own and was more interested in tossing the apple and rolling it around on the dais than eating it.”

“Goodness,” Astrid laughed. “Why so young?”

“As you know, the King is extremely selective. Only those with the strongest elements may receive the gift. He was so proud when the boys were born; he could not wait to bring them into the fold, to start their tutelage. And he wanted them to have the protection of Asgard’s magic as soon as possible.”

“Are you telling me that the King is a big softie? It is hard to picture.”

“That is on purpose,” Frigga smiled. “He must rule with an iron fist, without exception. One whiff of vulnerability and our enemies would pounce. But Odin is a different man behind closed doors. He is gentle, sentimental, and empathetic. Do not let him know I told you that,” she chuckled.

Astrid grinned, “Of course not.”

“He was a good father when he was not being a king. He focused most of his efforts on Thor, obviously; he was the heir to the throne, strong as an ox, and the spitting image of Odin. But he was just as proud of Loki, in his own way.”

Frigga smiled, “We were both shocked when he was born with a head full of black curls and looking almost exactly like my late father. When he started showing a predilection for seiðr, Odin started referring to him as ‘your son.’ So, he had his boy, and I had mine.”

Frigga took a sip from her teacup and set it back down again. “Loki projects an heir of haughty arrogance, but he is a sweet boy under that cool demeanor. He would be the first to throw himself in front of someone he cares about. And I know he cares about Sigyn, not just superficially; he loves that girl.”

“And she him.” Astrid smiled, “She has had a crush on the prince for as long as I can remember. It was always, ‘Prince Loki is so handsome, Mama.’ and ‘Prince Loki can wield seiðr, Mama.’ She would moon over his portrait for hours if I would let her.

“She was such a naughty little thing when she was young. Just picture me trying to raise a proper little lady and her winking and blowing kisses to framed art on the wall!” She clutched her necklace, “Where she even learned such behavior, I could not tell you.”

Frigga held her stomach and laughed, “Oh, that is precious.”

One of Frigga’s ladies approached the table and curtsied, “Excuse me, Your Majesty. The Prince and the Lady Sigyn have just arrived at the garden gate.”

“Ah, very good. Please bring us a fresh pot of tea and two more cups.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She curtsied and collected the teapot before she hurried away.

oOXOo

Loki and Sigyn came through the garden gate as one of the Queen’s ladies approached and curtsied. “The Queen and the Lady Anderson are having tea under the dogwood trees, Your Highness.”

Loki nodded, “Thank you.” When they were out of earshot of the maid, he leaned over and whispered in Sigyn’s ear, “I think I will take us there the long way.”

She tightened her grip on his arm, “You will get no complaint from me.”

Loki led her off the stone path to a smaller gravel walkway that wound through an ornate flower bed. “Mother designed this garden herself. She spends most of her free time out here.”

“I can see why. It is stunning.” They followed the meandering path until they came across a small pond. Sigyn stopped to admire some purple irises planted along the water’s edge. “It is very peaceful out here.”

She looked over to Loki and caught him staring at her face with a look that could only be described as adoring. “Oh, Loki.” she stroked his face with her free hand, “I love you so much. When you look at me like that…” she ran her fingertips lightly along his cheekbones, “I feel like my heart could explode right out of my chest.”

Loki touched her neck and stroked her jaw with his thumb. “You are the hidden treasure I never knew I was searching for.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his middle and put her head on his shoulder. He rested his head against hers and stroked her hair.

“I am never going to let you go,” she said through her sniffles. They held each other, swaying in the warm sunlight for several minutes. Each of them not wanting to be the first to let go.

“Riiibbit.” A giant bullfrog croaked as he plopped onto a stone in the pond with a squelch, startling the couple.

“Excuse me. We are trying to have a moment here. Move along.” Loki dismissed the frog with a wave.

“Riiibbit.” The bullfrog responded, staring at Loki.

“Rude!” He glared back at the frog, his lips curling up at the corners. Sigyn giggled. “We will get no more privacy here. Let us go.”

She gave the bullfrog a little wave as Loki led her away.

oOXOo

Frigga heard the pair approach before she could see them. Their heavy footfalls and shouting taunts broke up the peace in the garden. Loki rounded a corner and ran down the path at full speed, Sigyn running a little behind him.

“I won!” he yelled triumphantly at her before stopping to bow to his mother, “Mother.”

“Not fair! I do not know my way around this garden! And I am wearing a dress!” She yelled back, slowing down as she rounded the corner and saw her mother's unmistakable look of displeasure. She quickly walked the last twenty yards to where Loki stood waiting for her.

“You cannot sour my victory with your logic, My Lady. I will still relish your defeat.” He was grinning from ear to ear. He placed his hand on her back as she approached the table.

She tried to catch her breath as she curtsied deeply to the Queen, “Your Majesty.” She gave her mother a peck on the cheek, “Mama.”

Lady Anderson stood and curtsied to the prince, “Your Highness.”

“My Lady.” He helped push her seat back in before sitting Sigyn next to her.

Frigga raised her eyebrows, “Loki, why were you making this poor girl run through the garden?”

“Oh, I was not making her do anything, Mother.” Loki conjured a tall glass of cold water and passed it to Sigyn, “Here you go, sweetling.” She nodded a thank you as she accepted it. “My betrothed wrongly believes that she can outrun me. So, we agreed to a foot race.” He shrugged as he plucked a date from the tray and passed it to Sigyn.

“You did what?!” Lady Anderson moved to the edge of her seat. She leveled Sigyn with a glare. Sigyn dropped her eyes to her lap as she nibbled the date. “How many times must I remind you that you are a Lady, Sigyn.” Her mother said through clenched teeth. “Ladies do not challenge people to foot races! Especially men! Especially in the presence of royalty.”

“Sorry, Mama. We were having a bit of fun.”

Lady Anderson sighed, exasperated, “A bit of fun?” She shook her head in disbelief as she clutched her necklace.

“Honestly, My Lady, I love that Sigyn feels she can challenge me. I love her spirit and her tenacity. I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life with some vapid woman who has trained her whole life to pander to me.” He rubbed Sigyn’s cheek with his knuckle as he smiled at her.

“Yes, of course, you are right, Your Highness,” Lady Anderson replied tightly.

“My case in point.” Loki laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the arms of the chair as he leaned back.

“Loki, a little more decorum in front of our guest,” the Queen said.

“Apologies, My Lady. I did not mean any offense.” He straightened his posture and reached across the table for her hand.

“Sigyn is fortunate to be betrothed to someone so… accepting of her demeanor.” Lady Anderson placed her hand on Loki’s, and he quickly kissed the back of it. “She has always leaned a little on the boisterous side. I blame her father.”

“Please, I am the lucky one.” Loki passed Sigyn another date.

“Speaking of fortune and luck,” the queen interjected, “I need to clarify something you mentioned at lunch, Sigyn.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Sigyn covered her mouth as she chewed.

“You mentioned to me that you felt connected to Loki from an early age. Care to elaborate on that a little more for me, please?”

“Yes,” She cleared her throat, “As I told you the other day at lunch, I have felt drawn to the prince ever since I was tiny.” She smiled at Loki and continued, “One day, his portrait stopped me dead in my tracks. I felt a connection that I cannot explain. I knew, somehow, that I would one day be his wife. And the day we met,” tears pricked her eyes, she shook her head and fought to keep her composure, “the day we met in person…I do not have the words to describe the feeling… a piece of myself that had been missing was returned. I felt complete.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I am sorry if that makes no sense. That is the best way that I have to describe it.”

Lady Anderson moved to comfort her daughter, but Loki was already en route to wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He kissed her temple as he dried her cheeks with his thumb. Sigyn looked at him and gave him a sweet smile. Loki took some cheese from the tray and offered it to her. She laughed through her tears, “Thank you, my love,” she whispered as they rested their foreheads together.

“And Loki? Can you tell me more about when you first met Sigyn?” The queen looked pensive.

Loki’s cheeks flushed slightly, “Aside from being completely bowled over by her beauty, grace, and warmth, I would say that my initial reaction was quite… possessive. I felt time come to a screeching halt. My vision blocked out everything but her. All the pain in my body relented briefly. And I knew she was mine and that I would be hers. I tried desperately to deny it. But I knew. Somehow. She was mine. She is mine. She…is…mine.”

Loki looked away from Sigyn to find the other two women staring at him intently. “What? Is that not how everyone falls in love?”

“No.” the Queen said as she went deep in thought. After a moment, she asked, “Sigyn, Astrid, may I have a strand of your hair? Loki, you as well. Root attached, please.” She held out her hand, and Loki, Sigyn, and Lady Anderson each plucked a stand from their scalps and placed it in the queen’s open palm.

Frigga summoned her soapstone smudge bowl to the table and twisted the hairs together. She placed them in the bowl. A heatless yellow flame rose from the bowl as Frigga held her hands over it. She stared into the flame; her eyes took on a yellow glow.

“I see,” she said faintly.

Sigyn reached over and clutched Loki’s arm with both hands. Lady Anderson clutched her necklace with one hand and held her stomach with the other.

Loki scooted to the edge of his seat, “What do you see, Mother?”

“I see the Lady in the nursery. I feel her pain.” Frigga grimaced and clutched her abdomen, not taking her eyes from the flame; she said, “I see the boy toddling over to her with a book.” She smiled briefly before her face shifted. Her eyes widened, “I see the Nornir… they argue… the tapestry… the Lady’s fate… Atropos relents, Lachesis instructs, Clotho weaves… a new pattern emerges… the boy… the girl…”

The flame in her bowl died down. Frigga closed her eyes, “I have been shut out from seeing any further than today.” She took a few deep breaths to center herself. She opened her eyes and took a sip of her tea.

“The Norns intervened on your behalf, Astrid. They heard your prayer, felt your longing, and changed your fate.”

“Oh...” Lady Anderson clutched her heart with both hands, “Oh my stars…”

“They used a small fiber of Loki’s thread to patch what was missing in yours. A small piece of his divine element, his mischief. The piece was so small that it only healed you long enough to conceive Sigyn and carry her to term. It created an irrevocable bond between the two of them as well.”

Frigga looked to Loki, “You see it in her eyes too, do you not?”

“It was one of the first things I noticed about her. It took my breath away.” Loki looked at Sigyn and the unmistakable glint in her eyes. “I had no idea it was part of my own.”

“Excuse me, but I do not understand. How does one see mischief?” Lady Anderson took Sigyn’s chin and looked at her daughter’s face. “All I see are her pretty green eyes.”

“Only the Gods can see the divine elements, My Lady. I am sorry. It is a sight to behold,” Frigga stated.

“I suppose I owe your father an apology, Sigyn. All these years, I believed him to blame for your naughtiness.”

Frigga laughed, “Sigyn is responsible for her own behavior, My Lady. I assure you that her free will has not been tampered with.”

Sigyn blushed and tucked her chin to her shoulder, turning her face away from her mother’s disapproval. “I see.” The Lady picked up her teacup and took a sip.

Loki took Sigyn’s hand and kissed it, “Would you like another snack, my sweet? I could conjure you something else if you like?” he asked her as he noticed that she had finished off the dates.

Sigyn’s eyes lit up and then fell as her mother cleared her throat. “Thank you, Your Highness. But I… should pass. I have my final fitting for my wedding gown tomorrow. I want it to look perfect for you.”

Loki scoffed, “I would not care if you walked down the aisle in a burlap sack. Your happiness is my only concern.” He conjured a small pumpkin muffin and placed it in her hands with a kiss on the forehead.

Heat came to his cheeks as he remembered her nakedness from earlier. The curve of her hips, the fullness of her breasts, the cute little bump of her empty womb that poked out slightly between her hip bones. She was athletic and strong while still having the feminine softness that awoke something feral in him. His eyes dropped from her face to the curve of her breasts at the top of her dress.

“Loki?” Frigga said again as she kicked his boot under the table.

“What? Yes, Mother? Did you say something?” Loki tore his gaze from Sigyn to look at the Queen. He heard Sigyn giggle as she tore off a piece of her muffin.

“I asked if you had decided on the apartment.”

“Oh, yes…” Loki cleared his throat, “Yes, we are taking the corner unit directly south of yours, Mother. We are going to be neighbors.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Frigga beamed. “I am so pleased for the two of you.”

“Fredrik said he would have our furniture delivered and the changes we want to be completed by the wedding day. Sigyn and her maids can move her clothes to the closet immediately. He even gave her her own set of keys to do so.”

Sigyn reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a gold keyring. She jingled them above her head. “I am so excited.” She smiled at her mother, “Would you like to help me organize my things in my new rooms, Mama?”

“I would like that, yes,” she sobbed.

The Queen stood, “That session has drained me, I’m afraid. I need to go lie down before dinner.” Frigga signaled to her ladies.

Everyone bowed and curtsied after she stood. “Are you all right, Mother? Would you like me to escort you back to your chambers?”

“No, I am fine. I just need a little rest.” She waved as she started down the path. “I will see everyone at dinner.”

Loki escorted the ladies back to their chambers, reluctantly bid Sigyn farewell, and then made his way to the training grounds.

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XOXO - Rayne 💚

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