#so i drew my sons in warm winter wear

[blues824]

My request for the prompt list is what ever you want and who ever you want I'm happy with everything you write and what to see what you want.

I found this cute picture of sebek for you I don't know who drew it but it's beautiful.

If this man does not become our husband in the next 5 seconds @theunknowntravel3r

I requested: Dancing to Christmas Music, New Year’s Countdown, NYE Party

Sebek Zigvolt

Let’s be honest, if you are with him, he probably has told his parents about you. It was his first time being in a relationship with a human, so who better than to ask his parents? That being said, when Winter Break rolled around, they had sent you an invitation to stay at their house for the duration of your time off from school.

The half-fae had warned you to pack heavily and with cold weather in mind, and he even lent you one of his hoodies… totally because you needed it and not because you looked absolutely adorable in it. You also noticed that it seemed that he sprayed some of his cologne on it so that it smelled freshly of him, and your heart melted.

Going through the mirror, the weather was definitely much colder, and you were glad that you were already wearing some extra layers. It was freezing cold. You went to pick up your suitcase only to see that Sebek picked it up for you. His face was flushed red, as he caught you looking at him, but in his mind he blamed it on the cold.

“Sebek, I can get my own stuff.”

“Nonsense! It is a knight’s duty to help a citizen, especially if you are their significant other!” He shouted, not as loud as when he shouts at Ace or Deuce, but definitely louder than necessary. 

So you said bye to everyone as you both headed to the dentist clinic, where you would meet his parents. You were nervous, and he could sense it. To be honest, he was more nervous about you meeting his older siblings, as they were very protective over their younger brother. 

Walking in, you noticed that it was very clean and quiet, probably because they were just locking up the office for the holidays. Upon seeing her son, Mrs. Zigvolt ran and pulled you both into a hug, exclaiming about how it was so good to see you and her son had told her so much about you. Sebek was embarrassed, but it had been a while since you'd felt the warm hug of a mother, so you embraced it.

His father walked into the lobby soon, and waited until his wife was finished with greeting you both so that he could hug his son and introduce himself to you properly. You could definitely see that your boyfriend was a perfect mix of his parents, in both appearance and personality, and it was quite funny to you.

~~~~~~~~

The Zigvolt residence wasn’t anything too grand. It was actually quite comfortable, and you loved everything about it. You got to see Sebek’s room, and you were surprised at how plain it looked. You would have thought that he would have had crocodile-print blankets and pillow cases but no. 

He actually had a bookcase filled to the brim with books, and they were organized by title. A few of them were romance novels that you were grateful to see, as you recognized them from your own world. Shakespeare, the Brothers Grimm, and the Bronte Sisters. 

“Huma- I mean, Y/N, you will be sleeping in here, and I will sleep on the couch!” He announced, setting your suitcase on the bed.

“Why don’t we just share the bed? It’s a king-sized bed, we can both fit.”

“THAT IS IMPROPER, ESPECIALLY BEFORE MARRIAGE!!!” He shouted, face painted a bright, glowing red at the mere thought of doing something so intimate.

“Is it that? Or is it because we’re in your parents’ house? You do realize that we’ve slept in the same bed before back at Ramshackle, right?”

“I-I do realize that!” He said all too quickly, making you laugh.

“Alright, what’s got you so worked up, Mr. Knight-in-Shining-Armor?” You stepped right in front of him, throwing your arms around his neck and playing with the ends of his hair. His hands instinctively fell to your waist.

You always knew when something was bothering him… and it was something that he both hated and appreciated about you. 

“I have never brought a significant other home before, and I am nervous about how my siblings and my grandfather will take it… especially since you are human,” He admitted, and you could feel his shoulders sag a bit when he mentioned his grandfather.

“Your grandfather was forced to accept your father, wasn’t he? I will force him to accept me. I forced you to, so it shouldn’t be much more difficult than that, right?” You offered him a reassuring smile, and he knew that you could win anybody over. However, his grandfather still did not like his father. “And if he doesn’t, then he’ll love our children.” 

It was lucky that he was half-fae and did not get whiplash as easily as humans do, otherwise his neck would have absolutely snapped with the velocity at which he turned his head to look at you, wide eyes and flushed face apparent.

~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the next few days, you basically stayed in the house. You did stop by the market to meet some of the townsfolk, but it was freezing cold out there. Besides, you definitely preferred seeing baby pictures of your boyfriend over the snow any day of the week. Mrs. Zigvolt was very happy to show you the most embarrassing ones, much to her son’s dismay.

You also helped prepare the house for the upcoming New Year’s Eve party that the Zigvolt’s hosted annually. You were excited to see Silver and Lilia again, but you were sad that Tsunotarou was not going to be able to make it. It would be alright, because you needed to meet Baul Zigvolt as well as Sebek’s siblings.

On the day of the party, his sister was the first of them to arrive. She didn’t live too far away, but the snow made it difficult to get there. She squealed upon seeing you, though, and you made a guess that this generation of Zigvolt’s inherited their mother’s strength when she hugged you.

“YOU MUST BE SEBEK’S SIGNIFICANT OTHER!!!!” She exclaimed in excitement.

“WHO’S SEBEK’S SIGNIFICANT OTHER?!” You heard a man exclaim from the front door. Looks like the eldest son of the family is now present.

“I am! My name is Y/N L/N!” You were not surprised to be swept into yet another bone-crushing hug, but this time you were rescued by another woman who didn’t look like she was related.

“Honey, let them go! They can barely breathe, poor thing…” You shook her hand after being let down, and you noticed the ring on her and Sebek’s older brother’s fingers, making a note that she married into the family.

Lilia and Silver weren’t too far behind, and so the only person you all were waiting for was the grandfather of the family. Lilia tried to reassure you that you would be fine and that Baul would tolerate you, but it still wasn’t any less nerve-wracking. Sebek was in a similar state, not being able to sit still, and when he was sitting, his leg was bouncing.

What did manage to give you a bit of hope was that you were not the only human in the room. Sebek’s father, sister-in-law, and Silver were all there to stand beside you. Of course, the first person mentioned didn’t count, because Baul still didn’t like him. However, the other two were accepted with nearly open arms.

Then, the dreaded knock on the door sounded, making more and more terror sink into your and your boyfriend’s souls. You took his hand in yours, drawing absentminded circles on the back of it with your thumb.

“Where is the human who deems themself worthy to court my youngest grandson?” He said upon entering.

Whatever happened to ‘Hello’? ‘How are you?’ ‘My name is…’?

“I am right here, sir.” You stood up, walking up to him and extending your out to him. “My name is Y/N L/N.”

A moment of silence passed, and you could feel sweat trickling down the back of your neck, but he accepted your hand and shook it, telling you his name in return. The entire group behind you let out a sigh of relief, before the festivities truly began.

And by ‘festivities’, I mean sitting on the couch and talking. This is probably the most ‘unseasoned chicken’ family out there… just saying.

~~~~~~~~

It had been a few hours since Baul had arrived, and it seemed like he accepted you into the family. You were in it for the long haul, but you didn’t mind. Behind the scary facade, he was just a man who was concerned with the wellbeing of his family. You could appreciate that, and now you sat, sitting and listening to his and Lilia’s “glory days” from back in the military.

Sebek was listening with stars in his eyes, and you knew that he aspired to be like his grandfather. He was sitting on the couch, and you were sitting on the floor, leaning your head on his leg as you listened along. However, you zoned out a bit, feeling your social battery become low.

Mr. Zigvolt put on a Christmas record on an old gramophone that they kept in the family room, and walked up to his wife.

“Would you like to dance, darling?” He extended his hand out to her, and your heart melted at the sight.

“Why, yes I would.” And so they started to rock back and forth. In their home, they had wedding photos hung up, and they looked as in love as they were back then.

Sebek’s brother and sister-in-law joined them. It wasn’t anything too complicated, literally just rocking back and forth. You smiled, lip-syncing to the words and watching the two couples dance with each other.

“H-Human, would you like to dance with me?” Sebek stood up and held a hand out to you, offering to help you up. Poor baby’s face was flushed red, embarrassed or flustered, or maybe a mix of both. Plus, he was using a soft voice.

“I would like nothing more, my Knight in Shining Armor,” You said with a smile on your face, allowing yourself to be pulled up off the ground and into his chest. Placing your hand on his shoulder and holding his hand with your free one, you both also began swaying side-to-side. 

The song was soft, creating a rather romantic atmosphere in the living room of the Zigvolt residence. Staring into Sebek’s eyes, you could see the pride he felt at his choice of a significant other being accepted by the man he looked up to the most.

“1 MINUTE UNTIL MIDNIGHT!!!” The eldest Zigvolt daughter shouted out. All of a sudden, your beloved knight looked panicked, and you were about to ask what happened when he looked back into your eyes.

“Human, I am aware that I have not been very straightforward with my feelings for the past year that I have known you. I, however, want to take this last minute in the year to express them. I love you, Y/N L/N,” You could here the others start to count down, “And I understand if you do not wish to say it yet at this point in our relationship-”

“3, 2, 1!!!” The others shouted.

Quickly, you threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, closing your eyes. Your heart was pounding as you felt all the oxygen in your lungs quickly disappear, and when you broke apart from him, you smiled.

“I love you, too, Sebek Zigvolt.”

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek #twst sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek x reader

[ghilliedubh]

Vrinda: The Ivy Queen

Exploring the connections between the Norse goddess Rindr/Vrinda and ivy folklore

I am writing this with my mind swathed in a dark emerald green. Last Yule night I drew the rune Gebo, the Ivy card from my Ogham deck and the Queen of Swords. This painted an interesting picture in my head, of a green lady wandering amongst ivy-clad ruins. I dived into ivy folklore and mythology, researching who this might be. I visited Hebe, the Maenads and the various Green Ladies of Britain, but one particular solemn figure was sitting and waiting for me.

Very little is known of the Goddess Rindr and her name’s origin is obscure, but it is thought to be connected to a Gotlandic word for ivy, rind. A variation of her name, Vrindr, Wrinda or Vrinda (the name I prefer), can possibly be found in the Ostergotland place name Vrinnevi, the meaning of which would in that case be Vrindar-Vé (Vrindr’s Shrine). Oscar Lundberg proposed that she was therefore a fertility goddess represented by ivy or perhaps even made of it. The theory of her being connected to Vrinnevi has been debated, and some argue that the place name simply means “Ivy forest”. Even so, the similarity between the name Rindr and the word rind is hard to ignore and I strongly feel that she is represented by ivy as Lundberg suggests. Previously I had only known her as some kind of winter goddess and as the unwilling bearer of Óðinn’s son, Váli. This connection to the ivy plant opened up a whole new dimension of her.

I want to start by criticizing Patricia Telesco’s interpretation of Vrinda being a goddess of accepting uncomfortable changes. That just as winter yields to spring, so does Vrinda yield to the advances of Óðinn and become warm and fertile. Whether or not Vrinda’s myth is a metaphor for the changing of seasons, I find it appalling that someone would look at a story about sexual assault and draw from it the lesson that one should not fight “positive change”. Change can be good, but that attitude in this context is disgusting and disrespectful to all that have had to go through such a horrible experience. Now, moving on…

First there is the madness. The maenads were wild, ecstatic worshipers of Dionysus who wore ivy. Often willing participants of the frenzy, but sometimes forced. In Gesta Danorum the tale is told of how Óðinn, when thrice rejected by Vrinda, uses magic to drive her mad and then ill. Disguised as a medicine woman called Wecha, Óðinn tells her father that he can cure her but it would cause a violent reaction. Vrinda is tied to her bed and Óðinn proceeds to commit one of his ugliest crimes. I connect these two instances of forced madness with certain properties of the ivy; ingesting the leaves can cause delirium, convulsions and even hallucinations. Surprisingly, wearing crowns of ivy was believed to prevent drunkenness. To me, all of the above makes Vrinda a goddess of madness, but as a sufferer. We who may have bouts of bad mental health may find comfort in her.

Next I want to talk about the Green Ladies of Britain, specifically the melancholy yet usually benevolent ghosts that haunt castles. The Green Ladies are dead but are still kind, often protecting living residents of their haunts. The Green Lady of Huntingtower Castle in Perthshire (known as Lady Greensleeves) is said to have healed a young boy who lived in a house on the estate. Ivy was also seen as a protective plant in Britain.This protective element also be a domain of Vrinda, John McKinnell writes about a kenning for a warrior in the saga of Guðmundur Arason, serkja Rindar Sannr. Sannr is a name of Óðinn meaning “truth”, Rindar serkur would be “Rindur’s serk”. According to McKinnell this hints that she may have been able to enchant clothing to work as a protective charm. But back to the Green Ladies. Most of them are thought to be the ghosts of particular women of noble lineage that lived in the castles and were usually killed in horrible ways. The Green Lady of Caerphilly Castle is the ghost of Alice de la Marche of France who died of shock when she learned of her husband’s men killing her lover. I mention her specifically because of her ability to blend into the ivy that grows on the castle walls. The ivy in this story feels like a very appropriate symbol and I feel it could be extended to the rest of the Green Ladies. Ivy clings to ruins, it clings to trees long after they die. I want to quote the first stanza of Henry Kendall’s The Ivy on the Wall:

The verdant ivy clings around

Yon moss be-mantled wall,

As if it sought to hide the stones,

That crumbling soon must fall:

That relic of a bygone age

Now tottering to decay,

Has but one friend—the ivy—left.

The rest have passed away.

I believe this sentiment lives with Vrinda. In this aspect, she is a goddess of mourning and trauma, of yearning for the irretrievable past. But at the same time she is a goddess of protection and overcoming hardships and devastation. As ivy holds together and decorates the weathered stones of an old castle, so too can Vrinda help hold together our broken hearts and shattered selves.

Then there is winter. I have read many articles and blogs online written by pagans associating Vrinda with winter and almost nothing else. I never actually saw mentioned any concrete reason for it, but now that I have become aware of her ivy realm it has become obvious. Most people are familiar with the carol The Holly and the Ivy. Both plants are evergreen and are part of a family of yule plants alongside mistletoe and yew. Ivy and Holly historically represented the feminine vs masculine, in parts of England there are still dances between the Holly boy and the Ivy girl. It was supposedly custom once for men and women to light-heartedly taunt each other through song. Sadly it seems mostly the songs praising Holly have been preserved, an example is the following verse:

Nay, Ivy, nay; it shall not be i-wys ;

Let Holly hafe the maystery, as the manner is.

Holly stond in the Halle fayre to behold;

Ivy stond without the dore; she is full sore acold.

Holly and his merry men they dancyn and they sing.

Ivy and hur maidens they wepyn and they wryng.

(Ballad from the time of Henry VI)

In a more positive light, holly and ivy feature in a poem by Henry VIII called Green Groweth the Holly. Here ivy's steadfast color throughout winter symbolizes fidelity. It is a charming poem if a bit ironic, since Henry himself wasn’t exactly a paragon of fidelity. I’ll let you read the third and fourth verse:

As the holly groweth green

With ivy all alone

When flowers cannot be seen

And greenwood leaves be gone,

Now unto my lady

Promise to her I make,

From all other only

To her I me betake.

It is not strange that Henry made this connection. In the language of flowers ivy represents fidelity, wedded love and friendship. Ancient Greek brides would carry ivy as a symbol of undying love and sprigs of it are often found in wedding bouquets today. I think ivy being an evergreen as well as it’s ability to cling tightly are good reasons for it being a symbol for faithful love. We also see generosity and kindness as ivy provides berries for birds in winter. These aspects all together give me the feeling that, yes, Vrinda is a winter goddess. However, I feel she is more a goddess of persevering winter, rather than a goddess of the frost and cold itself. She stays living, green and fruitful when other plants lie dead. Her love persists through hardships. Winter or summer, it holds on.

Just before I conclude I’d like to touch upon animal associations. There is not a lot to work with, but the color and winding tendencies of ivy invoke the spirit of a serpent. Perhaps an adder, with its ivy-like pattern and ability to hibernate. The adder, like the ivy, is also toxic. The maenads wore serpents as well as ivy so it's not entirely far-fetched to see snakes as a favorite of Vrinda, but I’m not sure how well it fits. Perhaps the wren, a bird often seen darting through ivy bushes and has connections to winter. The word “wren” is of obscure origin but the words wren, rind (the Gotland word for ivy) and rindill (the Icelandic word for wren) sound curiously similar to Wrinda and Rindur.

Then there are owls. In Britain ivy has a special relationship with the tawny owl, which is sometimes even called an ivy-owl. Most people are familiar with owls being traditionally associated with death, but it may surprise some that ivy is so as well. This seems contradictory to it’s tolerance of winter, the death of the year, but this association likely stems again from fidelity as well as ivy’s tendency to grow over tombstones. Ivy was also a frequent motif on headstones and there it likely represents immortality and eternal life. Both snakes and owls are carved on headstones too. Ivy was also used to foretell death.

This association with death ties well in with the aforementioned Green Ladies. Owls and ivy are paired together in the idiom “like an owl in an ivy-bush”, which is used to describe a person with a vacant stare (usually due to drunkenness) or in some cases those with a frightened and dishevelled appearance. I almost forgot to mention that tawny owls usually mate for life, fidelity again. Finally, the carol I mentioned earlier has a couple of verses mentioning owls:

Ivy hath berries black as any sloe;

There come the owl and eat him as she go

…

Good ivy, what birds hast thou?

None but the owlet that cries how, how.

That brings us to the end. It’s quite bold of me, I know, to just give Vrinda all these associations purely based on ivy folklore and mythology. However, I feel so uncomfortable just leaving her bound to that one, grisly story of her impregnation. It’s unfair. I really do feel she may have shown herself to me that Yule night, or at least an aspect of herself, and I’d rather she lived in my mind as a lush and complex entity. Maybe I am getting lost in a thick forest of wishful thinking but maybe, like the Green Lady of Caerphilly Castle, she has indeed been hiding in the ivy.

Vrinda the broken, Vrinda the crazed,

Vrinda the wanderer of ruins and graves.

Vrinda the devoted, Vrinda the evergeen.

Vrinda the beautiful, unwavering Ivy Queen

Hrafnsunna Ross

Sources and further reading:

On English ivy folklore and mythology:

http://khkeeler.blogspot.com/2021/10/plant-story-folklore-of-english-ivy.html

https://interestingliterature.com/2021/05/ivy-symbolism-in-literature-religion-mythology-analysis-meaning/

https://from-bedroom-to-study.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-hedonistic-history-of-interesting.html?m=1&fbclid=IwAR3kerXYa_Nud94rzbCuhPlv-qH8Dah2R2jibqFLPYV4d8GmGTP87GJgVBQ

https://books.google.is/books?id=eOvyDwAAQBAJ&pg=PA118&lpg=PA118&dq=ivy+drunkenness+folklore&source=bl&ots=n3L6TNUO9e&sig=ACfU3U1PGGIezufv-sZbxklBhjBdNuqwKw&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjDi6SxgYT1AhWTEMAKHcEyBN4Q6AF6BAg0EAM#v=onepage&q=iv

y%20drunkenness%20folklore&f=false

https://speakingofwitchwands.net/2017/11/16/the-magick-of-ivy/

https://www.woodland-ways.co.uk/blog/hedgerow-medicines/ivy/

Properties of English ivy:

https://plants.ces.ncsu.edu/plants/hedera-helix/

On Maenads:

https://www.thecollector.com/maenads-women-bacchus/ On Green Ladies: https://www.spookyisles.com/scottish-green-lady-stories/

Wedding flower customs:

https://www.theknot.com/content/wedding-flowers-customs-traditions

Wren:

https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=rindill

https://www.bardsinthewoods.com/2012/12/the-wren-wren.html

Tawny Owl:

https://www.peakdistrictonline.co.uk/birds-of-prey-the-tawny-owl/

Evidence pointing to Rindr being a worker of protective magic:

https://secureservercdn.net/198.71.233.138/16i.962.myftpupload.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/07/John_McKinnell_Meeting_the_Other_in_Norse_Myth_ab-ok.cc.pdf

https://norse.ulver.com/src/biskup/gudmunda/index.html

Gesta Danorum book 3, where the story of her assault is written:

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1150/1150-h/1150-h.htm

Possible etymology of her name:

https://books.google.is/books?id=DtcMCAAAQBAJ&pg=PA160&lpg=PA160&dq=scandinavia+ivy+goddess&source=bl&ots=GMILPvloOP&sig=ACfU3U3EX9SDhIxFUwiTT_sNHFbMbxOlng&hl=en&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjv-_fXvYP1AhUwQEEAHdY1D9cQ6AF6BAgfEAM#v=onepage&q=scandinavia%20ivy%20goddess&f=false

Headstone symbolism:

https://headstonesymbols.co.uk/

#norse paganism #pagan #heathen #witch #Rindr #Rindur #Wrinda #Vrindr #Vrinda #trees and forests #ivy #folklore #mythology #norseheathen #norse deities #norse mythology #owl #wren #tawny owl #adder #winter #mine #theory

[charlesandmiranda]

Asakusa Adventures part one:

2/1 dinner with friends and 2/2 Senso-ji Temple

After leaving Ochanomizu, Charles and I took the train to Asakusa, our next stop in Tokyo. We had dinner plans to meet with a friend and her family that night, and we planned to explore the area the following day (which is yesterday, at the time of writing!)

Our friend, Penko, her husband As'maria, and two sons took us to Asakusa Ichimon, which is a super traditional restaurant. It was featured in the movie Shin Ultraman which came out in 2022, and Charles really wanted to visit it as a film location, but before we could even mention it to her, she was already suggesting that we should all go together, and so we did!

The interior was amazing, I wish we had taken more photos. Taking photos inside establishments can sometimes be difficult, privacy is much more significant of a cultural consideration than in the US and we don't want to take photos of other patrons. It was a lot of gorgeous, dark wood, short, low to the ground tables, tatami mats, and floor chairs. There was a super zen, indoor water feature too, which was pretty cool, to put it mildly.

I don't even begin to know how to describe how tasty the food was; there was a huge menu of sakes (Japanese style alcohol, think sort of like a "rice wine" even though that's not strictly accurate) and shochu (more like a liquor), almost all, if not all of which, we'd never seen before in the states. The entire meal was a like...5 course experience, starting with a small appetizer of fruit, tofu, fish egg and beans (in honor of the Setsubun holiday, which is today [2/3] at time of writing!) all the way to a hot pot of tuna, leek, mushrooms and more. Genuinely everything was like, beyond delicious, and it was sooooo much food, without ever making us feel like we were totally gonna pop (although it was close). There was also a beef dish mid meal that was the first beef Charles had eaten in close to two decades, and it was worth it.

It was also really really special to get to spend the time getting to know Penko and her family better; I first met her here on tumblr actually, maybe....gosh, I don't know, 8 years ago? give or take a year? through a mutual fandom (we were both fans of a specific pairing in a video game called Danganronpa, where she was a very popular fan-artist at the time). Since then, we've met her in Japan a few times on trips, and we've slowly gotten to know her family over the last few years. After our engagement, Penko actually drew some lovely art for us as a congratulations; if you were at our wedding, we had it displayed near our guestbook :P

The following day, we spent exploring around our Airbnb in Asakusa, as well as visiting Tokyo Skytree. Our stay was on the second floor, above a restaurant, right in the heart of the district.

We started the morning early at Cafe Royal, a super old-school Showa-era coffee shop built in the early 1960s. We had coffees and breakfast there, and their specialty Royal Coffee has to have been one of the best coffees I've ever had. It almost reminded me of dark chocolate in terms of its acidity and smoothness. It was truly awesome.

Afterwards, we spent some time shopping at Uniqlo, a Japanese clothing store (there are some in the states too, if you're curious!) My favorite pair of jeans ripped badly on the plane, and I wanted to replace them, so I bought a new pair at Uniqlo, as well as some of their warm layering clothing, which they're well known for, to stave off the February chill. Charles also got some warm winter wear, so we're both totally topped off for the rest of the trip with trendy heat-tech goodies.

We also wandered around the streets and streets and STREETS of Asakusa's extensive shopping and food district surrounding the massive, gorgeous Senso-ji temple. One thing I love about Japan is that these huge shopping districts often have covered roofs over the streets so even if it's raining or kinda crappy weather, you can still walk freely across blocks without too much trouble. We were mostly window shopping, but we definitely stopped for a few treats.

From there, we headed to Tokyo Skytree, stay tuned for our next post!

[theshinsun]

back in Chicago and it’s cold as 🏀s... I mean balls... I mean boys.

#aokaga #knb #i wanted the boys in pom pom hats let me have this #aomine daiki #kagami taiga #back in my hometown for two weeks and im freezing my nips off #so i drew my sons in warm winter wear #hella sketchy is my new style for now #doodles #art #traditional #sketch #kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basket

[imherongraystairstrash]

Please write more gabrily!!!

Okay!

Gabrily one-shot:

Gabriel woke up, blinking slowly as his vision came to him. It was cold in the bedroom, the London winter raging on outside, but his body was warm from Cecy’s body, which she’d practically draped on top of his own. One of her legs was lodged in between his, and Gabriel couldn’t help but smile at her: Cecy, who was so graceful in her waking hours, and yet when asleep, the opposite was true. Not that Gabriel minded. In fact, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer pressing a kiss to her forehead. Cecily stirred and dug her face into his neck, groaning.

“Good morning,” Gabriel said.

“You’re lucky I got a good night’s worth of sleep and was already semi-conscious, or I would be pounding your face with a pillow right now.”

“Liar. You sleep like the dead.”

“Then you must fancy yourself a necromancer, what with the amount of effort you put in waking your pregnant wife, mind you.”

“Well, take me to the silent city, my fair lady, for I could never resist waking you.”

Cecily lifted her head and stared at him. “Do you take pleasure in torturing me?”

Miraculously, Cecily allowed Gabriel to nuzzle her neck. “It’s only because I can’t imagine being awake without you.”

Gabriel couldn’t see her face, but he could almost hear Cecily roll her eyes.

“How romantic.” She said sarcastically, softly running her fingers though his hair.

Gabriel hummed in response.

“You know what would be more romantic?”

“Kissing you to death?”

“No,” she said, dragging out the ‘O’. “Letting me get my rest.”

Gabriel looked up at her, into her ocean blue eyes. She raised her eyebrows as if willing him to reply.

“You’re silent because you know I’m right.” Cecily said.

“Perhaps I’m speechless because of your breathtaking beauty.”

Cecily pursed her lips together.

“You’re silent because you know I’m right.”

“I’m silent because I can’t believe you actually think that would work on me.”

Gabriel shrugged. “You never know unless you try.”

“You idiot.” She said affectionately.

Gabriel traced his hand down her stomach until he reached her lower abdomen, when a small swell was forming.

“How is the unexpected visitor treating you?”

“He’s been quite still; not as invasive as the other two.”

“It’s good to hear that Alexandra is treating you well.”

“He’s a boy, Gabriel.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Yes, he is. Honestly, I think I’d know the gender of the baby growing inside me better than you would.”

“I understand why you would make that presumption, however, and it grieves me to inform you this, but it is completely false.”

“Oh Gabriel. And here I thought you were one of the only men who wasn’t victim to an immense superiority complex, who thinks that just because he’s a man, his opinion is automatically correct. How tragic. I suppose I’ll have to divorce you now, so that our son doesn’t pick up bad habits and end up as pompous as he father.”

Gabriel scoffed. “I’m ofended.”

“It’s a miracle Christopher ended up the way he did. God forbid any son of mine be like the majority of men these days.”

“Well now, let’s not get carried away. At least I’m good for something.” Gabriel said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Cecily snickered and pressed a kiss to his lips.

As she drew away, she whispered into his ear. “Hardly. If you were truly adequate, we wouldn’t even be discussing the gender of the baby. There wouldn’t even be a baby.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but grin. “Give me some credit Cecy. We’re doing the world a favor by blessing it with one of our children.”

“Yes, that is true. We do make beautiful children.”

And better yet: now we’ll outnumber your brother.”

Cecily perked up, quickly turning to meet his eyes with her own. “That’s true! I like the way you think, Lightwood.”

“Does that mean you will un-divorce me?”

“Depends,” she said, wearing a scandalous smirk on her face.

“On what?”

“On how well you preform.”

“Right now?!” Cecily nodded, as if the answer were obvious. “Angel, and here I thought pregnancy was supposed to make you more tired.”

“It does, if the child is a girl.” Cecily said blinking up at him innocently, though there was nothing innocent about her gaze. “But since I’m pregnant with a boy-“

Gabriel kissed her before she could continue. “We’ll just have to see, Mrs. Lightwood.”

Cecily shook her head. “Oh Gabriel. You’re so naive. It’s a good thing you’re handsome.”

Gabriel chuckled, kissing her again, smiling when she giggled as he did so, as if she was still the young woman she was when they’d first gotten married, and he was still the young man who knew nothing, except that he loved the woman he’d married.

…

Tagging: @tsccreatorsnet  @atla-lok143  @rinadragomir  @youngreckless  @autumnangel20  @julemmaes @cupcakesandkittens  @no-scones-allowed  @ninacarstairss  @stxr-thxif   @icouldnotask @jordeliasupremacy  @cordelia-cardale  @will-effing-herondale  @axoloteca @heronstairs2014 @ilovemanicures @ti-bae-rius @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @readersconfessions812 @nightshade3465 @livvyheronstairs @zemiraa @proudtobealuthor @neurogliadudette @theenchanteddreamer @cheeseandmacarons @shadowhunting-hoolingans @writeordie-4 @amchara @myangelbach @livingformyself @dancing-under-the-moon @julescarstairs @wouldyouknowmeblind @grace-lightwoodd @livingformyself

If you want to be on my tag list, or if you changed your url recently and your not in the tag list anymore, let me know! Also, if you want to be removed, send me a dm! I won’t be offended in the slightest :) Oh, and if you asked to be on the tag list and you’re not on it, please tell me (I’m very absentminded lol).

#gabrily #cecily lightwood #tsc #tid #tid oneshot #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #cecily x gabriel #tsc fanfic

[thevibraniumveterans]

Tony Leung: “[Wenwu] isn’t a villain at all!”

On September 6, 2021, Tony Leung sat down with Hong Kong actress Carol “Dodo” Cheng for an interview about life, sports, and of course, his latest Hollywood outing as a widower who grieved the death of his beloved wife and a father who “didn’t know how to love [his children]” in Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.

=

Interview is originally in Cantonese, and has been translated into English.

FULL TRANSCRIPT BELOW:

-

Today I'm really pleased to interview Tony Leung Chiu-Wai. The last time I really chatted with you in earnest was... Do you remember? In 2013.

I think that time I was with...

We were on a plane together. 

At the mall? On a plane?

We arrived in Hong Kong, and went to some awards ceremony. We were waiting for our luggage, exchanged a few words. That was 2013, and we haven’t met since. Where did we meet up next? I’m sure you won’t remember. It was here in Hong Kong. I was surprised by you. I usually go to the supermarket, very early in the morning. Because there's no-one there. 

Yeah.

I saw you there.

I think that was probably it. Not too crowded in the morning. 

You too. Why so early in the morning?

To... buy food. I usually wake up at 6am. I’d exercise until about 10am-ish, and then I’d…

Go for a walk.

Shower, then shop for food. I usually eat quite simply— it’s either salad, or buckwheat noodles. Salad doesn't stay fresh very well. So I’d get up early in the morning, shop for what I like, and prepare it at home.

Have you been eating healthy all this time?

I’m not doing this particularly for my health. I get an upset stomach easily. I get food poisoning very easily. And it’s miserable having food poisoning! When you’re at work, others don’t know how bad you’re having it. But you can’t tell-- you can’t convey that.

Alright, at this point it’s time for a nostalgia trip. We used to be colleagues, and we’ve shot TV series together. At that time, did you feel that you could eat whenever and not have to sleep… When did you start prioritising your health?

When did it start? I think it would have been… at least 20 years ago. Because it’s miserable being sick while on set. You’ve got to keep working. Even when I had a fever, (producer) Wong Kar-Wai would say, “No, it’s the last day, you’ve got to make it.” So I would work with a fever!

It’s good that everyone's health-conscious now, and wants to avoid falling ill. So when I was preparing for this interview, some friends told me, They’d seen you and me do an interview, from many years ago. I don’t think you’d remember. We’re talking many years ago - decades here! You were really young at the time. At the TV station you were a rising star, a top male lead actor. So I interviewed you. I asked you a question, and I don’t know if you remember how you answered. I asked, “Have you thought about retirement?” You did give me an answer at the time. Do you remember at what age you said you’d retire?

I really don’t remember. I’m sure retirement was always on my mind then.

You were in your 20s then, not quite 30. You told me— “I will definitely retire at 36!”

[laughter]

What changed your mind?

I believe that when I started out as an actor, it was certainly hard work when I was just starting out. But I thought, I wouldn’t get to where I am today without going through tough times. But as I slowly grew as a person, my perspectives and values have changed. I feel more at ease. So I wouldn’t think in extremes like I did before. I think that in the past 10, 20… 10 years? I've become a more relaxed person. I wouldn’t just say, “now I’ll retire.” If I want to keep going, I will.

This is your favourite line of work, isn’t it?

Except sport. 

Could you imagine yourself in any other career? I can’t.

I’d be a sportsperson. 

A sportsperson, playing what?

I play a lot of sports. I like mountain biking, sailing, water skiing, surfing… I’m up for anything. 

You really like water sports, don’t you?

It’s hot in Hong Kong, and summer takes up most of the year. What’s more refreshing than being in the water?

How about in winter?

I’d still be in the water, wearing long sleeves.

You wouldn’t take up running?

I don’t particularly like it… I can’t seem to find much variety in running. I like to interact with nature directly. There’s something new every day. Take sailing, for example. Every day is different, the weather changes.

Your body is in a different condition every day.

You're working with the changing conditions. You end up building up a lot of knowledge. You learn about nature, the weather, changes in conditions. The water, currents, what do you call it... Hot weather warms the ocean and you’ll have gusts of wind. I didn’t know all this. But the more I sailed, the more I thought,“This is great!”

You’ve got a real passion for this.

I do.

What have you been up to during the pandemic? It’s been 1— almost 2 years, hasn't it?

I was filming in 2 movies… And... flying here and there.

Do you need to quarantine? 

Quarantine! Countless times.

We’ve talked for so long, let’s come back to this film, Shang-Chi. I believe Tony has received endless invitations to appear in overseas films. Why did you choose this film?

I didn't really... I believe it’s fate to be involved in certain films. I can’t just want to act in some type of film, then get it. An opportunity comes up, but sometimes the director might not like me, or I might not like the screenplay. Or I might like the director, but I don’t like the character. So you can’t just make this sort of thing happen. I think sometimes the time will be just right and things will happen. The director may like me, and I like the project, or I like the director. Or I might want to try something in particular. It takes a lot, a combination of factors, for something to happen.

It's like a piece of furniture, isn't it? The pieces need to be joined precisely.

Yes.

How were you scouted for this movie? How were you approached?

The director approached me, wanted to have a chat with me. So I...

What's your requirements for taking on a film? Do you need to read through the whole screenplay?

That would be best. It would.

You would've been in many films without a solid screenplay, wouldn't you?

There would still be an idea. 

An overview of sorts.

But this movie... You know Marvel is very secretive. At the beginning, I was in a video conference call with the director. What he could tell me at the time was, "You're going to be the main villain. Your character has many layers." Then I asked, "do I need to fight?" "No, because you have those rings." So I said, "then I'll definitely be fine." That was all.

What about that drew you in? Being the main villain?

That was one of the draws. In the past few years, I wanted to try characters different to those I'd played previously.

Why do all actors who have played male leads want to go off and play villains?

Actually... there's more complexity to them. I feel like there's a different mindset between playing a protagonist and an antagonist. I've acted for 30-something years. It's about time I did something different.

So you're in, you're headed to the shoot, and you're now the main villain! What's the mindset behind this?

Oh, not for this film. I thought I was the villain at first. A month before the shoot, I read the script. I didn't think this character was a villain at all. There was a real human side to this villain. Perhaps Marvel was hoping to portray a villain from a different angle this time around. So I was puzzled. Initially I was expecting, "Ooh, a villain, this will be fun", but when I looked at the script, "no, this isn't a villain at all!"

Very sentimental? 

Yes, and a lot of humanity.

You thought it would be easy playing a villain.

I didn't think it would be easy.

You didn't think there would be so much emotion. 

I didn't think it would be easy. I thought there would be more evil in him. I read the script and thought, "oh no, he's not evil at all", And that's difficult to portray. How would you let the audience... and I thought, "wow it's as if he's a good guy?" I read through the script and couldn't find the evil in this character.

How would you portray this character? Was the director able to help you?

The director...

Or did he put a lot of trust in you? 

I rarely... He put a lot of trust in me, and I don't discuss with the director often. I thought, what's the use of discussing? I could just act it out. You can be really idealistic when you discuss. I would rather do more... When I arrived, Destin would ask me, "Do you want to talk it out?" and I would say no.

Was there a read-through? 

No, no read-through.

You went straight to shooting?

Yes, straight to the shoot.

Then it would be like, "Tony, stand here, in this shot do this and that, and you'd do it?

Yeah. It was kind of like that. We filmed the action scenes first. So there was time to warm up. Then the dramatic parts. I like the drama most. I felt the most excited during these parts. The action scenes were particularly tough, because it was summer in Australia then.

Did you need to train?

I did. At first I was told I didn't need to fight. Then when I got there— wow, there's so many action scenes! So I scrambled and...

But you've got those rings. You can just throw the rings.

Sure, but there's still some action involved. Because I didn't physically prepare beforehand, it was rather tough at first. I got used to it as the shoot went on, but the weather was still hot. And there were period costumes, so it was tough at first.

So there was a sequence, they filmed all the action scenes first, and then scenes with dialogue afterwards, is that right?

I think they deliberately scheduled this so I could warm up a little. So I wouldn't need to dive straight into very intense dialogue.

There are a lot of actors involved, right? Your character has a son, too. Is this the first time you're portraying a dad?

Would it be my first time... 

Or you have, but not for a much older son?

Yes, not for a much older son. I had a child in “The Grandmaster” as well. But not that old, no.

How would you portray the emotions of a father-son relationship? Because your character didn't know his son. 

It was manageable. In this movie, the father-- not that he didn't love his children. He didn't know how to love them. This character doesn't even know how to love himself. The love was from his wife, portrayed by Fala Chen, He found love in this woman. But he doesn't know how to love others. So he was very distant from his children, his sons— his daughters were pretty much ignored. He was a father figure who preferred sons over daughters, a rather... traditional father archetype. Almost the old-fashioned type.

In shooting this movie, what was most difficult for you?

The action scenes. 

Do you do all these scenes yourself?

I try to, but they wouldn't let us do the really dangerous ones. If you're injured, who's going to replace you?

Sure.

But I try to do as much as I'm able.

You'd need to rehearse the scenes with everyone. 

Of course. Once we arrived, they arranged for Fala, my son, played by Simu, and my daughter... like you and I used to, we would all practice in the studio.

How long were the working hours?

It was 10 working hours a day, but we went all the way through that. There was no break in between. 

Really? I thought you would be sitting comfortably in your trailer?

No! We filmed a lot every day! You know how that made me felt? It felt like I was in my TV days again.

Really?

You'll think, "will we get through this much filming today?" And by the end of the day, you would. But it was very intense. Perhaps they didn't want us to have a break, because we'd have to disperse and regroup. So we went all the way through. Once we arrived in the studio, it was full steam ahead. There was no meal break, because there was always...

No meal break?

No.

I've never heard of a Hollywood film shoot without meal breaks.

There's food throughout the day. Catering comes around, and we'd just eat.

But there wouldn't be an hour for a meal break.

No.

How long was shooting in total?

I was involved for about... 4 months.

Was that long or short timeframe, in your experience?

I felt like it was short, because they were very efficient and organised. They planned it really well. So every you'd head in and whoosh,

It flowed well. 

Yes, very professional.

In your opinion, are there particular scenes you're in that the audience should pay attention to?

I think... I wouldn't say particular scenes, but the film as a whole. I don't think you've all seen me in this get-up before.

We could tell from the promos.

Very different to what I've played before.

Did you stay in one place for four months, or did you have to fly around?

We were only in Sydney, because we were in a studio. It was all green screen. There were a lot of special effects, so we only had to construct part of a set, And the rest was green screen, so it was mostly shot in the studio. Only the opening and ending were elsewhere, in a park, and in a village on a set they'd constructed. So I was there for... I was in Sydney the whole time. But because of the pandemic, I left for a few months in the middle, and returned when were were able to shoot again.

How did you feel about your experiences after the shoot? It's a Marvel movie, very different from the dramas and other films you've been in. How would you sum up your experiences?

Very stressed, very frustrated.

Really?

Because I'm the type of person who stays in their comfort zone. I filmed with familiar directors, and familiar crew.

You've really leapt out of your zone there.

I really stepped out of this comfort zone, working with strangers. The only person I could trust in was the director. I didn't know anyone else there. And when I got a copy of the screenplay, like I mentioned, I realised, "Wow, a villain that doesn't feel like a villain, what do I do?" I'd only received the script a month before the shoot. And when I got there, I had to work with the dialect coaches on delivery. I was filming, I was thinking... it was stressful. But we got through in the end.

Where were the costumes done?

In Tokyo. I was there at the time, and our costume designer kindly flew over to dress and fit me. At the time I didn't know what was in the script, I didn't know the story. But the costumes helped me a lot at the time. The movie's costumes were made beautifully. I thought they had good design sense. So when I was dressed for the first time, I was able to feel...

That you were the character.

Yes, roughly. I had an initial feeling for it. And then I would turn up in person, and get a better feel as I played the character.

So the shoot is over, it's about to be released. What plans do you have next, Tony?

Well when I came back to Hong Kong, I took part in a local film. Then I might shoot one in Shanghai, and then a TV series in Vancouver.

So you've done a complete turn-around since I last interviewed you. You were thinking of retiring at 36, do you not plan to retire now?

Not that I haven't thought about it... I'll stop when I feel tired. Then I'll go back to playing sports. If I feel like I've taken too long a break, and go "no, I need to do something," and there's something I'm really interested in, I'll do it. I don't need to come to a complete stop. It's something I like, after all.

So when you film in future, you wouldn't be thinking, "oh, I've been in a Hollywood production, "I will only appear in productions at that tier.” You'll be happy with a good screenplay.

Yes.

You might be asked to shoot drama films again. You would still take that on?

Well, I haven't given myself...

You've already left your comfort zone.

Yes, but I haven't really limited myself to what I think I should film. If there's a good film, I'll shoot in it. If there's something I like, I'll do it.

Well Tony, surely a typical day in Hong Kong for you wouldn't be on the water all day. What's a typical day like for you without shoots?

Well I'd get up, and there would be at least 2 hours of exercise.

Every day?

Yes.

Monday through Sunday?

Maybe one, half day's rest. You've got to let your body recover.

How about when you're shooting in Hollywood?

Not during filming, I'd save up my energy for that. Shooting takes 10 hours a day, but hair and makeup could take 2 hours. That's 12 hours, and it was tiring.

That's true.

I needed the energy for filming. But in Hong Kong, without a shoot, I'd have 2 hours exercise in the morning, make lunch, I might do some sports, like sailing, or water skiing. I'll come home, maybe watch a movie, or read a book. That's it. Maybe I'll have dinner.

I wouldn't exactly call that exciting. [Laughter]

It's pretty exciting!

For you, at least.

If the weather's good and I spend the day out sailing, I'd feel really happy about that. But not every day's a good day. I might capsize, and it would feel wrong. But it's not all that bad.

Why don't you enter competitions?

I have entered competitions.

Have you placed in these competitions?

Well... I have placed before.

What did you place?

I think second.

Oh, that's quite good. If you competed in the Olympics in sailing, there's no age limit there right?

Yes, there's no limit. But you don't necessarily have to compete in the Olympics. I could...

But we would all be happier for it, Tony. Imagine, Tony Leung Chiu-Wai representing Hong Kong and winning a medal! You've seen how happy the medalists have been this year.

It's really hard! It's really hard!

Why is that?

You're not as fit as younger people. It's hard. I play sports purely for enjoyment. I feel like it's an experience.

Fair enough.

It's... I'm not the type to want first place or something.

You're not a competitive person.

Yes. I don't want to experience a sport in that way. I'm there for my own enjoyment, not to win.

Let's say in future... since I last saw you in 2013— that wasn't even an interview, and now I've met you after all this time. Let's say in 5 years. What would you be doing in 5 years' time?

Maybe I...

Back then you said you'd retire at 36. I'll ask you again now, let's not dredge up the past. What do you think you'd be doing?

In 5 years' time, I think I would have more time for sports. [laughter]

Still on the water?

Yeah. Well, not necessarily, but a lot of different sports. I do want to try some—

Try running! I've seen Kar Ling (Carina Lau) run before! 

Yes, she likes running, and hiking too.

Why don't you run with her?

I don't really like running.

Hiking?

Hiking, I'd rather... well when I'm skiing, I'd walk in the back country, in good weather, carrying my skis and wearing my cleats, it's the same thing. I'd hike up and ski down. But not that kind of hiking. Well sometimes... when in summer, in Hokkaido, I can't ski. I would still hike, but I wouldn't really like it. But it would be better with friends.

But you don't like being around too many people. 

I sometimes like being with family. But my family... not everyone can hike. One might cramp up halfway.

Since you like being on the water so much, how many people does it take to do that?

One.

Just you?

Yeah.

Just someone to steer the boat.

Uhh... yeah.

It doesn't matter if there's a boat?

I do a lot of different water sports. I have those... electric boards, the type that shoot up like a magic carpet on the water, I have a stand up paddleboard, I can surf by myself too, that's doable. A lot of the sports I do can be done solo. I don't need a lot of people around.

You've really changed from before. You used to like to... go out at night?

Yeah.

That's all gone?

It has for a while. I haven't been in the nightlife for 20, 30 years. I'd eat out for dinner at most. Then I'd go straight home.

I remember I used to shoot TV dramas with you, you surprised me— We've filmed one or two series together, I would go straight home to bed afterwards, because I've always been a morning person. You could still say, "I'm going to go out for a bit." Yet the next day — our call sheets had us in very early — you were still able to make it in on time. Back then…it was a rite of passage.

Because I was young. Yes, and it was life experience. There are things you should do at that age.

Sure. Well, I hope to see you in another production soon. If this series were really successful, would you continue in any sequels?

[laughter] I really don't know, I can't say.

Why's that?

I feel like... as I've mentioned, there's fate involved in shooting a particular film. We'll see where...

…where fate takes you.

...where fate takes me.

Thank you Tony Leung Chiu-Wai for being with us today.

You're welcome.

#mcu #mcu shang chi #scatlottr #shang chi spoilers #shang chi and the legend of the ten rings #xu wenwu #徐文武 #tony leung #leung chiu wai #tony leung chiu wai #shang chi press tour #尚氣與十環幫傳奇 #尚氣與十環傳奇 #梁朝伟 #scatlottr spoilers

[worshipping-skarsgard]

Quiet Night

Summary: This drabble started as a submission a Christmas writing prompt challenge. I'm obviously very belated. I wrote it in December, yet sat on it not feeling super confident honestly. But now I'm ready to share. It's not holiday related.

Prompt: Walter’s wife (the reader) on the phone with Walter’s mother-in-law talking about his job and how selfless he is.

Word Count: 713

Warning: None. Just fluff, maybe a dash of angst if you squint.

Note: A giant thank you to the beautiful @luna-aestas for encouraging me to write this and for editing it. I would not know what to do without you!

Moonlight cast a glow on the thickening blanket of snow as flurries gently floated down. The house was quiet. Only the soothing crackle of fire in the hearth could be heard. I welcomed the sound and warmth radiating from the burning pine. My gaze danced along with the flickering orange hues.

Time slipped away watching the mesmerizing flames until music suddenly filled the room. My mom's favorite song, assigned just for her. I quickly picked up my phone and swiped to answer her call. "Hi, mama." 

"Hello, sweetheart." The sound of her voice caused me to smile. I had not seen her in months, not even over the holiday season, which made our calls all the more important to me. "How are you?"

"Good. Today was a bit chaotic, but I managed. What about you?"

"I'm okay. Your father and brother keep me busy. Never a dull moment around here." I did not have to see her to know she was shaking her head.

I quietly laughed, remembering past winter fiascos the men in my family got themselves into. "I'll see if I can send you some quiet. I have an abundance."

"Quiet? Did Walter call it a night already? Those long days tend to catch up eventually."

I breathed out slowly. "No, mama. He's not home yet."

"Another long day? Is he okay?" I could hear the concern in her voice. My mother loved Walter as a son. Always has, long before marriage officially made him her son-in-law.

"I… I don't know. I know he will be. But right now, I'm not sure. This case has been tough. It consumes him 24/7, even when he's not at work. Walter excels at his job, you know that. He is not going to shut off until its solved. Case closed. It might not wear him quite as thin if I could get him to be just a little selfish when he's home. But I don't think he knows how to be selfish. He tirelessly dedicates himself to catching real life monsters then comes home and makes it his mission to assure my happiness. My selfless man trying to be the perfect detective and husband, without ever stopping to tend to himself. If he were home right now, I guarantee he would be rubbing my feet or trying to because I had a hectic day. I do the best I can. Keep him afloat while he saves lives and brings closure to loved ones."

I could tell from her hesitation, my mother was unsure how to respond. "I worry about him. About you." 

"I know, mama. I worry about him too. But we'll be okay. We always end up okay. Sooner or later the case will be closed and things will start to return to normal. Not all of them consume him so much. Most are not this tough. Hopefully it will be months or more before another one like this comes along."

She sighed, undoubtedly still worried. Mama never stopped worrying. I simply hoped my words lessened the feeling, even if only a little. "Are you sure you are okay, sweetheart?"

Her words may have sounded as if they were just about me. Yet I knew better. My gaze dropped while I smoothed a hand over my stomach. "I promise. I'm okay, she's okay. We're okay." We did not know the gender of our baby growing in my barely there bump, however Walter insisted we were having a daughter. 

A soft ping and brief light drew my gaze to the rectangle in my hand. A text from Walter. 

Leaving soon, love. Do either of my girls want anything on my way?

My sweet, selfless husband. "Mama, Walter just messaged. He's okay, and coming home soon."

Her sigh of relief was audible. "Good. When he gets there, tell him I love him and to be safe. I should let you go, sweetheart. You need to rest." Forever the protective mother, to her children and those they loved.

"I will tell him. And I promise I'm resting. I love you."

"Love you too. Stay warm." I smiled and knew she was too. My finger swiped the end call button. She never hung up first. I typed a reply to Walter.

We just need you. ❤

#walter marshall #walter marshall fic #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall x reader #walter x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fic

[deadpresidents]

Unfinished: April 12, 1945

As March 1945 drew to a close, Franklin Delano Roosevelt was exhausted. At the beginning of February, Roosevelt had attended the Yalta Conference with Winston Churchill and Joseph Stalin -- a meeting which required the American President to undertake a physically punishing and extraordinarily dangerous trip halfway around the world to the Crimean Peninsula in the middle of a raging world war. At Yalta, Roosevelt’s appearance had shocked the foreign leaders and their aides. In his last face-to-face meeting with Churchill, on February 18, 1945, FDR was seen as a dead man walking. Churchill’s personal doctor, Lord Moran, told a friend that Roosevelt had “only a few months to live”.

Being President of the United States for just one term is taxing enough on a young man or a healthy man. Franklin Delano Roosevelt had been President for twelve years. He had campaigned for the Presidency and been victorious in four national elections. His Administration faced one of the greatest domestic crises in American History -- the Great Depression -- and the greatest crisis and bloodiest conflict in world history -- World War II. FDR had attacked these problems (and other issues that arose during his terms) with energy, creativity, and a relentless pursuit of victory.

A healthy and athletic man who stood nearly 6′2″ and weighed about 200 lbs. as Assistant Secretary of the Navy under Woodrow Wilson, Franklin Roosevelt had been stricken by polio in 1921. The disease robbed him of his ability to walk and, at the time, looked as if it had robbed him of a political future. He rebounded politically but physically he was never the same. Confined to a wheelchair, the muscles in his legs withered like the branches of a tree in winter. Although he could not walk under his own power, FDR taught himself to stand while wearing heavy steel braces around his shins. He needed the assistance of a muscular partner -- sometimes one of his sons, sometimes a military aide -- in order to feign the appearance of walking. Through sheer will, however, Roosevelt learned to take a few steps without anyone’s help -- a handy skill that he would show off at important campaign rallies. But as he began his unprecedented fourth term in the White House in the early months of 1945, FDR no longer had the energy to show off.

Roosevelt was as gravely ill as Lord Moran suggested. The successful 1944 Presidential campaign had severely drained his already tapped-out reservoirs of energy and stamina. His fourth inauguration was low-key, partly because it took place in the midst of war and partly due to the President’s failing health. Instead of the traditional inaugural ceremonies at the U.S. Capitol, Roosevelt took the Oath of Office at the White House and gave his brief fourth Inaugural Address from a balcony at the Executive Mansion. The famously verbose Roosevelt gave the second-shortest Inaugural Address in American History. By the time the crowd realized that he was talking he had already finished. Only George Washington’s four-sentence-long second Inaugural Address in 1793 was shorter than the address given by FDR on January 20, 1945.

FDR now looked entirely different than the man who had told the nation that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” in 1933. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, which seemed sunken into his skull. Since his first Inauguration, Roosevelt had lost 40-50 pounds. His hands shook so violently at times that some observers wondered how he was able to eat. He smoked constantly, but rarely finished his cigarettes. Most shocking of all, FDR no longer went to great lengths to conceal his disability. Frail and tired, he found it almost impossible to wear the heavy braces that he long wore on his crippled legs. On March 1, 1945, Roosevelt addressed a joint session of Congress on the results of his Yalta Conference with Churchill and Stalin. In an unprecedented move, the President sat in a chair on the floor of the House of Representatives and apologized to Congress, beginning his speech by saying, “I hope that you will pardon me for this unusual posture of sitting down during the presentation of what I want to say, but I know that you will realize it makes it a lot easier for me not to have to carry about ten pounds of steel around on the bottom of my legs.” It was the first time that President Roosevelt had ever publicly acknowledged his physical disability.

Twelve years of the Presidency, economic depression and war had strained Roosevelt’s health, but the 14,000-mile trip to the Yalta Conference on the Black Sea had pushed FDR to the limit. On March 30, 1945, Roosevelt arrived in Warm Springs, Georgia for a few weeks of relaxation and, hopefully, recuperation. Roosevelt loved Warm Springs. He had started visiting the small town in western Georgia in the 1920s, hoping that the warm waters from the natural mineral springs nearby would help him regain the use of his legs. When he was Governor of New York, FDR purchased a small house that he used when he visited Warm Springs. As President, the home was called the “Little White House” and although FDR only visited it sixteen times during his Presidency, many of those trips were for 2-3 weeks each. When his train pulled into Warm Springs at about 1:30 PM on March 30, 1945, many longtime residents said that things seemed different. Roosevelt looked terrible and while he waved to onlookers, it was with noticeable weakness.

The first few days in Georgia were tough. FDR was obviously ill and seemed to struggle making it through a church service on Easter Sunday. Roosevelt also avoided his beloved Warm Springs pools. Instead, the President rested, caught up on sleep, and visited with guests. The goal was for FDR to regain enough of his health to make a trip to San Francisco for the charter meeting of what would become the United Nations. At the Little White House with Roosevelt were some personal aides, military attaches, and cousins Daisy Suckley and Polly Delano. During his first week at Warm Springs, Roosevelt did very little work, dictating a few letters and reading briefings, stronger and more animated in the mornings and evenings but completely drained in the afternoon. Another goal for Roosevelt was to gain weight -- by the time he left Warm Springs, he hoped to be up to 170 lbs.

Still, there was no noticeable improvement in FDR’s health or spirits. Then, on April 9th, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd arrived. As President Wilson’s Assistant Secretary of the Navy, Franklin D. Roosevelt had become involved in a passionate love affair with his wife’s social secretary, Lucy Mercer. It was 1918 when Eleanor Roosevelt discovered the affair between Franklin and Lucy and threatened to divorce him unless he promised never to see or speak to Lucy again. FDR agreed to the ultimatum -- an ultimatum that was strengthened by his mother’s threat to cut off his inheritance if he and Eleanor were divorced, as well as the fact that Franklin’s budding political career would be crushed if the affair was revealed. The relationship between FDR and Eleanor was never again passionate or loving after the discovery of the affair, but Eleanor kept her word and remained married to Franklin. Franklin, however, didn’t keep his word to Eleanor.

The Franklin-Lucy affair probably resumed shortly after Roosevelt’s first Inauguration in 1933.  By that time, FDR and Eleanor had more of a professional relationship than a personal one. He respected the First Lady’s political viewpoints, supported her activism, used her as a sounding board, and tried to act on many of her suggestions. Personally, however, there was no passion or tenderness or intimacy between the First Couple. It was FDR and Eleanor’s daughter, Anna, who helped rekindle Franklin’s relationship with Lucy. She arranged for Lucy to visit the President in the White House when Eleanor was out of town. And on April 9, 1945, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd was in Warm Springs, Georgia visiting President Roosevelt due to Anna Roosevelt’s invitation.

FDR was so excited to see Lucy that he didn’t wait for Lucy to make the drive all the way from Aiken, South Carolina to Warm Springs. The President and his cousin Daisy decided to meet Lucy’s car en route. At Manchester, Georgia, 85 miles away from Warm Springs, the highway rendezvous took place. FDR looked happier than he had in months as Lucy got into FDR’s car along with her friend, painter Elizabeth Shoumatoff. Lucy had brought Shoumatoff along to paint a portrait of the President -- a portrait that she hoped would be an improvement on the recent photographs that had made Roosevelt look “ghastly”.

For the next two days, Roosevelt and Lucy enjoyed their time together, going on small drives, eating happy meals, and sitting together while Shoumatoff prepared to paint the President’s portrait, studying photographs and making preliminary drawings. Daisy Suckley had the opportunity to observe the unique relationship between FDR and Lucy Mercer and also had some private conversations with the President’s longtime mistress. In her diary, Daisy recorded her thoughts about the two after she accompanied them on an automobile drive that they took: “Lucy is so sweet with F(ranklin) -- No wonder he loves to have her around -- Toward the end of the drive, it began to be chilly and she put her sweater over his knees -- I can imagine just how she took care of her husband -- She would think of little things which make so much difference to a semi-invalid, or even a person who is just tired, like F(ranklin).”

On April 12th, President Roosevelt woke up and ate a light breakfast. He had a slight chill despite the warm, humid weather that day and wore his cape draped over his shoulders throughout the early afternoon. Roosevelt did a little bit of work, reading the Atlanta newspapers and dictating some correspondence. Elizabeth Shoumatoff had set up her easel in the living room where the President worked behind a card table that served as his makeshift desk. As Shoumatoff painted, FDR continued reading, and at about 1:00 PM, Roosevelt said, “We have got just about fifteen minutes more to work.”

In the quiet of the room, Daisy Suckley thought that the President had dropped his cigarette and was searching for it because his head slumped forward suddenly. Roosevelt could barely lift his head when Daisy asked what was wrong. He placed his left hand gently against the back of his head and, in a barely audible voice, told Daisy, “I have a terrific pain in the back of my head!”

Roosevelt quickly slipped into unconsciousness as the women in the room summoned help. They called for a doctor who was staying in a cottage close to the Little White House and they helped two of FDR’s valets carry the President into the bedroom. Roosevelt’s hands and feet were ice cold, but he was still breathing. Smelling salts were administered but FDR was unresponsive. As the doctor and aides tried to help the President, Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd and Elizabeth Shoumatoff recognized the hopelessness of the situation. They also recognized the potential scandal that was possible if it was learned that the President collapsed in the presence of his longtime mistress.

Shoumatoff packed up all of her paints and the unfinished portrait she had been working on. Lucy Mercer grabbed her belongings and took one last look at her beloved Franklin. He was still alive when they left, but he was breathing laboriously and his eyes no longer recognized Lucy. Lucy and Elizabeth Shoumatoff had been on the highway back to Aiken, South Carolina for an hour when President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died in Warm Springs at 3:35 PM. The official cause of death was a cerebral hemorrhage. FDR was 63 years old.

Eleanor Roosevelt was notified of her husband’s death a few minutes after 4:00 PM. She summoned Vice President Harry Truman to the White House while he was having a drink at the U.S. Capitol with House Speaker Sam Rayburn. Truman wasn’t told why he needed to hastily come to the White House, but he knew it sounded urgent. As Truman left the Capitol, he ran into a young Congressman who questioned the Vice President about his speedy exit -- a young Congressman named Lyndon Johnson.

At the White House at 5:30 PM, Eleanor Roosevelt broke the news to the Vice President simply a directly: “Harry, the President is dead.” Truman was stunned and asked what he could do for the widowed First Lady. Eleanor smiled sadly and asked, “Is there anything we can do for you? For you are the one in trouble now.” At 7:00 PM, Chief Justice Harlan Fiske Stone administered the Oath of Office to Truman as the 33rd President of the United States.

By that time, Eleanor was on her way to Warm Springs to claim her husband’s body. At about midnight, she arrived at the Little White House in Georgia where she asked about her husband’s last hours. It was then that she learned news almost as shocking as the President’s death. Eleanor found out that FDR had been with his former mistress Lucy Mercer Rutherfurd when he was stricken. She spent 45 minutes alone with his body, picked out the clothing for his burial, but never lost her composure despite the shocks that she experienced that day.

A funeral train returned FDR’s body to Washington, D.C. the next day. Roosevelt was embalmed by morticians who found that the President’s arteries were so hardened that they could barely inject the embalming fluid into his body. FDR’s body laid in state in the East Room of the White House almost 80 years to the day that Abraham Lincoln’s body rested in the very same place following his assassination. On the 80th anniversary of Lincoln’s death -- April 15, 1945 -- Franklin Delano Roosevelt was buried in the garden of his beloved estate Hyde Park on the Hudson River in New York. Upon his death, the New York Times wrote of the deceased President:

“Men will thank God on their knees a hundred years from now that Franklin D. Roosevelt was in the White House. It was his hand, more than that of any other single man, that built the great coalition of the United Nations. It was his leadership which inspired free men in every part of the world to fight with greater hope and courage. Gone is the fresh and spontaneous interest which this man took, as naturally as he breathed air, in the troubled and the hardships and the disappointments and the hopes of little men and humble people.” 

Elizabeth Shoumatoff’s Unfinished Portrait of President Roosevelt -- which she was working on when he died -- now hangs in the Little White House in Warm Springs, Georgia.

#History #Franklin D. Roosevelt #FDR #President Roosevelt #Warm Springs #FDR Library #Death of Franklin D. Roosevelt #Presidents #Elizabeth Shoumatoff

[maybe-your-left]

Skiing day two with Dr Ren and Gucci please 😘

Skiing - Part 2 Gucci & Dr. Ren M.D.

TW: INFIDELITY (only Gucci)

You barely slept, unable to swallow the guilt that had settled. You slept with a married man, who had you meet him in an extra room. Separate from his family, so he could fuck some random woman he met.

It felt disgusting, knowing you were that random woman.

What felt even worse, was how his touch lingered. His fingertips tracing every line of your skin, plush lips tasting every inch. Tongue laving at your nipples while you cried, legs open wide for his cock.

Maurizio made you cum three times, fucked you on the bed, on the couch, bent over by the fire. Digging his hands into your hair, cracking your back so you would arch for him.

Cumming deep inside your cunt, moaning when he saw it dribble down the back of your thighs. A thick finger swiping it up, to bring it back where it belonged.

No amount of hot water could scrub the shame, the tingle of your skin from his words. How beautiful you were, how he loved your cunt, ‘such a wonderful little dove’, ‘you taste of heaven’.

Wiping your tears away with the pads of his thumb, a soft kiss as you walked out. You looked back from down the hall, seeing him leave moments later. Hair put together, glasses back on, barely looking like he spent the past hour fucking someone.

Must be a normal thing.

———

“Holy shit,” you groaned, legs sore from more than skiing. Barely able to get dressed for another day, you debated just staying in the lounge. But you spent so much to be here, and all your friends were going.

You didn’t want to be alone, in case Maurizio decided to see you. You promised yourself you would t indulge him again, it was wrong. Even though it felt so right, so delicious.

Maybe one kiss wouldn’t hurt.

“Come on, let’s go get food,” your friends yelled, filing out the doors to the halls. Ski suits dangling around your waists, you carried your boots under one arm. Hooking arms with one of your companions, he knew you were having trouble walking.

Didn’t know why, but he was helping you.

Making you laugh, smile, feel so much better. You had almost forgotten about your shame until you made it to the lounge. Making full eye contact with Maurizio, who looked just as shocked.

You stalled for a moment, gasping at him. On his arm was a child, maybe 4-5 in age. Clinging to her father, and there standing next to him was the woman on the slopes. Who was wearing all red, now dressed in even finer clothes.

Maurizio smirked at you, seeming to not care that he was with a child and wife. “Trouble on the slopes?”

You opened your mouth, shocked he even spoke to you. Weren’t you supposed to keep things like this under wraps? Next to you, your friend piped up, “She must’ve fallen yesterday. You know how it is, women are clumsy.”

“Real women aren’t,” the woman sniped, snatching Maurizios free arm and dragging him away. You glared after her, wounded by her calling you a fake woman. Who did she think she was?

“She seemed high strung.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, “I’m sure she’s a bundle of joy.”

———

You spent the rest of the day with no incident, didn’t see Maurizio or his frigid bitch of a wife on the slopes. Nor did you see his adorable daughter, instead you could focus on the landscapes.

The sloping mountains, snow banks, pine trees, fresh air, little tracks from animals burrowing for the winter. You were in awe, it really was a luxury. Something you wish you had more of, like Maurizio said.

You deserved it all.

Dinner was beautiful again, all of you mourning the end of your trip. Knowing that tomorrow you’d have to drive back down the mountain. To head to your small apartments in the bustling city of Milan.

You excused yourself from the group, needing to use the powder room. Not paying attention to your surroundings, leaving you alone on the walk down the dimly lit halls.

A whistle drew your attention, spinning around to see the culprit. Much to your surprise, Maurizio was walking down the hall. Hands stuffed in his pockets, a lush black turtleneck, some tight pants. Even under the darkness you could see his smirk, blue eyes devouring your form.

“Dove, you’ve been avoiding me.”

You scoffed, “I wonder why?”

He shrugged, now standing directly in front of you. The smell of his cologne filling your nostrils, the cut of his shirt showing his impressive frame. Lowering your defenses, “Why did you have to be married?”

“That’s not important.”

“Your wife is here,” you hissed, “She knows you did something!”

“I’m sure she does,” he brushed a stray hair from your face. Cupping your with a warm palm, “It wouldn’t be the first time, but you’re the first one I’ve come back to sweet dove.”

“Oh.”

“Shall we go for a walk,” he held his arm for you to take, “That way we can discuss our future.”

———

You don’t know how it happened, but you ended up in his bed again.

Panting and wailing under him, ankles on his strong shoulders. Cunt filled repeatedly by his cock, babbling how beautiful you were. So perfect, fit so well with him. His sweet dove, no one else could have you now.

He filled you with his cum over and over, well into the early morning. Telling you his wife didn’t matter, not when he had you. She could be handled tomorrow, bought off with another trip, maybe another child.

Maurizio walked out with you, telling you how wonderful you were. You assumed that would be it, you were his holiday romp. Never to be seen again, that was better to keep it how it was.

In the past.

You slept soundly on the drive home, smiling happily when you were dropped off. Grabbing your bags from the car, they felt heavier than before. But you were tired, from being thrown around in every position Maurizio wanted you in.

Throwing your bags on the ground of your apartment, you walked to the answering machine. A few messages, you clicked yes to listen.

Hello, this is Collette from Mr. Maurizio Gucci’s office. He was hoping to hear from you, there’s a package being sent to your residence that he wanted to discuss. Here’s his direct line for your convenience. Have a nice rest of your day!

You almost pushed Belle down the mountain, face flooded with embarrassment. Of course, your daughter heard you begging to be fucked. And of course, it had to be when you called her dad, Daddy. Because you have daddy issues, hence the husband who is 14 years your senior.

Its fine.

This is fine.

“Hey mom,” Belle stood with you at the base of the mountain, watching Ren and Odin play in the snow. “Do you want to hear my new ringtone?”

“Sure.”

“I think you’re gonna love it,” she smiled, “It’s for you and dad.”

She held it to your ear, “Fuck my ass Daddy!”

You snatched her phone, furiously locking it to stop the sound of you wailing loud enough to hear through the WALLS. Completely ignoring how she recorded her dad growling afterwards, you ran off towards Ren.

Belle squealing when you took off, “Mom! Give it back!”

“No!”

“MOM!”

“Kylo!”

Ren looked over his shoulder, frowning when he saw you running over the snow. Your hand extending Belles phone as high as you could hold it. Even though Belle was taller than you (thanks Kylo!), a hand square on her chest to hold her off like a rabid dog.

“What the fuck is going on over there?”

Belle screamed, probably alerting the resort security.

“Mom took my phone!”

“Were you being a shit?”

You wiggled away from Belle, throwing her phone as hard as you could towards Ren. She paled when it slid to his knees, Ren was holding Odin. Looking down at it with little interest, even though his daughter now had you pinned to the cold snow.

She cackled when she got you down, sitting on your back. “Dad, can I have my phone back?” You squirmed under her, jesus. What were you feeding her? Is she always going to be this strong? Is it just in the Ren genes, would Odin overpower you??

You heard snow boots coming over, accepting your fate. Maybe the cold snow would cool the heat rising in your cheeks, because Belle was absolutely going to show her dad what she heard. And he would probably laugh and say something gross.

Odins little body fall over yours, mimicking Belle. You heard your back crack, groaning under their weight. Now you would be hurt, emotionally and physically, all the way in Italy. With your demon children and Satan himself.

“Why are you tackling your mother?”

“Because she’s a whore.”

Ren growled, “Don’t call her that! Who do you think you are?”

Belle scoffed, “You call her that all the time! You just don’t think I can hear it!”

“Kylo,” you whined, “Get them off me please.”

The children stood, soon you were lifted by your husband. Looking down at you concerned, brow furrowed as he brushed snow off you. “Belle, apologize to your mother.”

She rolled her eyes, “You guys should be apologizing to me.”

Ren scoffed, “What is going on with you? We’re on vacation, do I need to send you home to go be with your birth mother?”

You grabbed the phone from Ren, stuffing it in your breast pocket so neither of them had it. “I need a drink,” you push past the stalemate. waving kisses to your son who was holding Rens hand.

———

Belle hounded you all evening for her phone, but you kept it tucked away. Staying on Rens arm the entire night, at dinner in the lounge you were half on his lap. Your children sitting across from you, Odin snoring by the fire pit after having a s’more.

You clung to Ren, kissing behind his ear while the flames flickered out. He chuckled at you, “What’s wrong, Love?”

“Nothing,” you trailed a finger up his arm, “I’m just tired.”

“Let’s get them to bed,” he kissed your forehead, standing up without you. Ren ushered Belle out of her chair, even though she was half asleep too. You listened to her groan, “I’ll carry Odin, you can carry her.”

You both dragged the children up to the rooms, Belle was dead weight in her fathers arms. Carrying her like she was nothing, while you struggled to hold your 60 pound baby.

Ren carried Belle in carefully, setting her on the bed, you watched him with tears eyes as he laid her. Like she was five all over again, kissing her forehead. You tucked in Odin in the same fashion, swapping with Ren so you could love on your daughter.

It was hard to believe she wasn’t yours, you’d spent so much time with her. Belle was your baby, before you had a real baby. Defending her from Callie, wanting to share moments with her. Fighting to be a mother figure in her eyes, and it paid off.

“Come to bed, love.”

You let Ren carry you away, throwing you on your large bed.

He pulled off his clothes, “So, why did Belle attack you earlier?”

You laughed, curling into the sheets, still fully dressed. Ren grumbled at that, tugging your clothes off as your tried to burrow.

“Lovely,” he cooed, burying his face into your bare breasts. “Why did Belle upset you today?”

You shushed him, letting out an exhausted sigh.

“Why’d we get an attached room?”

———

i fucking love gucci. also DIDNT PROOFREAD

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#tw: infedelity #adam driver #kylo ren #adamdriver #maurizio gucci #house of gucci #doctor ren #doctor kylo ren #my writing v #ask fridays #3.12.2021

[humbughana]

hometowns

Rafe and Lola visit each others hometowns. 

enjoy this short lil thing... or don’t bestie.

RAFE

“Rafe, honey,” Lola stepped off the plane, a hand shielding her eyes from the blistering sun. Rafe looked back at her with a grin and she continued, “What in the living hell is this?” 

Rafe laughed wholeheartedly at her expression and grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind, “Welcome to the Outerbanks, baby.”

It was amusing watching Lola deal with the summer heat, a piece of paper in hand to fan herself. Lola scowled at her sweatshirt she was wearing with her shorts, not at all anticipating it would be this hot, “Why did you let me wear this?” She asked in despair as they walked from the landing strip to the car. Rafe looked her over with a small smile and shrugged, “I thought you had a shirt on underneath.” She rolled her eyes and took off the sweatshirt, leaving her in a blue sports bra, “I don’t want to be all sweaty when I meet them for the first time!” She exclaimed when Rafe looked at her in surprise, trailed down her exposed torso.

“Oh I don’t mind, baby.” Rafe smirked slightly, before getting into the car. Lola jumped in and turned on the air conditioning immediately, slumping back in the seat. Rafe purposefully took a more scenic route to let her see the ocean and the small back roads through town. It was hard to keep his eyes on the road when she was hanging half out the window trying to get a good look at the blue water with wide eyes.

“It’s so pretty!” Lola laughed blissfully, letting her fingers twirl in the rushing wind outside the window, her hair blowing around her face. Rafe wished he had a camera to capture the perfect moment but his memory would have to do for now, “And you got to see this everyday?”

Rafe chuckled, looking sideways at her and grabbing her thigh when she started to hang halfway out of the car “You lived next to the beach too!” Lola only scoffed, shaking her head, “Not like this.” Thinking back at her Connecticut beaches and it really couldn't compare to this. 

When the car slowed down in front of a beautiful white house she threw on one of her college t-shirts from her bag and followed her boyfriend to the front door, “What if they don’t like me?” she whispered as they stood shoulder to shoulder at the door. Rafe rolled his eyes but stared straight ahead, “shut up, they’ll love you-

The door swung open to reveal Rafe’s stepmother Rose and Ward standing behind her, both with wide smiles on their faces.

“You must be Lola!” 

It was safe to say meeting the parents went amazing and Lola was already ‘part of the family’ as Ward said. Wheezie and Sarah were sweet and teased Rafe until his cheeks turned red and Lola snickered at him. Now Rafe was showing her around, and they ended up at the club.

Lola snorted, “You look like you golf,” Rafe turned towards her with an unamused look, “What does that even mean, Lo?”

She shrugged with a grin, “You just look like the type.” 

“You look like you couldn’t even hit the ball,”

It was her turn to look offended, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rafe smirked and shrugged as she did, “You just look like that type of girl.”

So that's how the couple found themselves on the course as Lola watched Rafe hit his first ball, it veered much too far to the right and didn’t go nearly far enough. Lola whistled lowly, “ I take it back baby, you must not be the type.”

“You’ve got a big mouth, Lo. Hit your ball.” He pecked her lips as he passed and she stood up with her club and set her ball up. I guess golfing never came up in conversation with the two of them but Lola was from New England, where there was literally nothing better to do in her overly suburban town but go to the country club. Her father taught her how to golf when she was just a little girl and made her go out with him every now and then. She never knew it could  be quite the party trick until now.

Lola set her feet in position before sending a wink over to her boyfriend watching her with narrowed eyes. She drew her arms back in the position that had been drilled into her mind her whole life and hit the ball perfectly. 

When she turned back to Rafe with a little grin, “I think I hit it, didn’t I?” 

It was safe to say Rafe was not amused with her.

Nine holes later, Lola was absolutely crushing Rafe as he just gaped every time she hit the ball.

“Pay up baby,” Lola purred with her hand out, wiggling her fingers as Rafe shook his head in disbelief, “Where the fuck did you learn that?” 

Lola shrugged, “My dad plays.” Rafe just shook his head and dug out a twenty dollar bill out of his pocket and put it in her hand, “Thank you.” she leaned up and planted a kiss on his mouth, “Now c’mon, let’s go get some ice cream. On me.” she winked at him as they walked out of the clubhouse. 

Lola obnoxiously paid for both of their ice creams and now they were walking down the street mindlessly teasing and chatting with each other as Rafe pointed out his favorite places.

“Let’s go home and change. I’ll take you to the beach.” Rafe bumped her shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist when her face brightened and she nodded enthusiastically, “Can we swim?” Rafe nodded with a grin, “We can do whatever you want. Tomorrow my dad’s taking us all out on the boat.”

“You have a boat?” Lola asked incredulously to which Rafe just nodded but rolled his eyes at her, “and so do you, lo.”

“But it’s not the same!” Lola groaned all the more excited to be here, “The vibe is just different. You wouldn’t understand.” She shrugged with a grin thinking of her hometown. When they got back to his house they rushed to put on bathing suits before going back out to the ocean. Lola promptly wasted no time sunbathing and ran straight out into the cool water, laughing as she went. 

Rafe caught her around the waist and they both fell backwards going under the water. Lola re-emerged first, “I don’t ever want to leave.” she groaned, wrapping her limbs around her boyfriend, “I love it here.” Rafe let out a laugh as her love for his hometown. His hands squeezed her thighs lovingly, “I had no idea.”

“Just wait until I take you to my hometown.” Lola rolled her eyes at him, “Then you’ll understand.” 

“Looking forward to it baby.”

LOLA

“Jesus christ it’s cold.” Rafe whining as he crossed his arms when they stepped out of the airport together. Lola looked over at him and his sad winter coat while she was promptly bundled up in her favorite Canada Goose jacket with gloves and a hat, “I told you,”

Rafe just shot her a look before looking for the Uber they ordered to her house, Lola leaned into his side as they leached off of each other for warmth, the later of the two welcomed it greatly. She spotted the car right as Rafe’s teeth started to chatter and pulled him along, shoving him in the car when their luggage was taken care of. 

“Welcome to Connecticut, baby.” She said sarcastically and kissed his cold cheek. 

Rafe’s eyes widened when they pulled up to her family home. It was normal to her but it was much different than the houses down in North Carolina. The house sat on almost eighty-seven acres with a long driveway up to the front of the house that sat proudly on perfectly mowed grass that her father was always obsessing over. She glanced over at Rafe who only watched in amazement at the car stopped in front of the house finally, “Well?” She asked with a grin, “You ready?” 

Rafe could only nod, and climbed out of the car and grabbed their luggage before Lola ran up the steps to the front door and pounded on the oak french doors. They swung open to reveal a woman that was a spitting image of her daughter standing with a faux scowl but it broke out into a warm smile as they hugged each other. Rafe cautiously walked up behind them before her mom saw him and grinned at her daughter, “He’s very handsome sweety,”

“Don’t encourage him, mom.” Lola grinned at Rafe who was then engulfed in a hug by her mother, “Where’s dad?”

Her mom pushed them both inside and Lola snorted at her boyfriend looking up the tall ceilings in awe, “He should be out in the stables I think.” 

Rafe cut his eyes to hers incredulously as Lola was beaming with excitement and took his hand, “Stables? You have stables?” Lola nodded enthusiastically as she opened a back door that overlooked the massive backyard that seemed to just go on and on.

“Let’s go,” Lola pushed him towards a set of steps to the ground impatiently and led the way towards the main barn, “Dad!” She yelled when they stepped inside. 

“Lo?” An older looking man rounded the corner and Lola ran to hug him as he laughed, Rafe watched feeling a little awkward but waited to meet her father who shook his hand firmly and squeezed his shoulder, “Nice to meet you, son.” 

“Daisy?” Lola bounced with excitement to which her father rolled his eyes playfully and pointed outside. Lola snatched Rafe’s hand and pulled him along back into the cold air to see Lola making her way to a massive white horse. She stood on the black fencing and pet the horse with a soft smile.

“You have a horse?” 

“Technically we have seven.” Rafe’s mouth dropped open, “But yes, this one is mine.” 

“It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Rafe stood next to her, hand shoved into his pockets. Lola elbowed him in the side, “You just never asked.”

“I never asked if you were a horse girl?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled but smiled anyways.

The next day Lola woke Rafe up at the crack of literal dawn with a shit eating grin on her face that only could mean trouble as she climbed to sit on his waist. Rafe groaned, covering his eyes as she slapped then away from his face, “Lo, we are not having sex with your parents room right down the hall. It’s too early.” Lola smacked his chest as he gasped, “Get up, dumbass.” 

Lola ended up having to drag him out of the bed and shoved proper clothes into his hands, “These aren't mine-

“Put them on.” Lola pointed to the bathroom and he only sighed, still rubbing his eyes tiredly. Rafe walked out and Lola nodded, satisfied with herself and gestured for him to follow. She opened the door the one of the garages and led him to the opposite side-

“No.”

Lola laughed, “Yes, It’ll be so fun!” She started rummaging through her snowboarding stuff. Her family basically collected the stuff so she was fairly certain there was a board Rafe could use along with the boots. 

“I’ve never skied before!”

Lola held up a finger, “Snowboarded.” She pushed a board in his direction, “And it’s good to try new things.” 

And that's how Rafe found himself at the top of a snowy mountain as Lola laughed as he fell for the fifth time, “You almost got it!”

“Shut up, Lo.” He climbed back to his feet as she just grinned in adoration, “You were right, you know.”

“About?” She watched him and he shook his head, “It’s a very different vibe,” Lola let out a warm laugh as she remembered what she told him. To be fair it was winter here and they went to his home during the summer but still.

“Now bend your knees.” She ordered and pushed him away from her. 

Hours later they were back at her parents house, curled up on the couch closest to the big fireplace. Her parents had dinner reservations leaving the couple to themselves as Lola rested her cheek on his chest, a blanket over the both of them, “”m glad you’re here.” she yawned as he ran his fingers through her hair mindlessly.

“Hey, Lo?” 

She mumbled incoherently, almost asleep. Rafe smiled down at her, “I like it here,”

“Really?” She cracked open one eye to look at him and he nodded, “I could get used to this,” 

“Oh really?” She sat up straighter with a soft smile, “Even the cold?” 

“Don’t push it horse girl,”

Lola punched his arm and he winced with a booming laugh, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, Lo.”

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe #lola and rafe #outerbanks

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 2

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Eventual smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - allusions to sex and MAJOR sexual tension hehe :)

Author’s note: Chapter 2 let’s go!! I hope everyone is enjoying so far! Remember if you wanted to be added to my taglist feel free to let me know!

MASTERLIST | SUBMIT REQUESTS

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TWO - NEXT 

You had been mesmerised just from entering Black Gold Cooperative— but actually stepping foot in Maxwell Lord's office was a whole different story. The entire building was decked out in Christmas decorations, pine trees and tinsel on every corner, but as you stepped foot in his larger-than-life office, there was not a single thing that highlighted festive spirit in sight. Nevertheless, you were in awe, immediately taking in the paintings, the pottery, the statues… it was like every little thing was embellished in gold. You hadn't even laid your eyes on Maxwell yet, but he was certainly looking at you.

You weren't exactly sure what you took a man like Maxwell Lord for. You considered him to be the tacky kind— but every piece of furniture in his office looked antique— like it came straight out of a museum. You admired the paintings on the walls. One thing's for sure, you didn't expect him to be a man who appreciated art culture. They were magnificent, and of all different shapes and sizes.

Maxwell Lord slouched back into his chair and watched you intently, his dark eyes following your every move. You were like no other girl who had come in for an interview, that's for sure. You were dressed in a thick, cream coloured winter coat and he noted the hat and gloves that were stuffed messily into your pocket. Your wet boots left a puddle of water where you had entered his office and he noted the little snowflakes balancing in your windswept, knotted hair.

He was surprised, to say the least. The past week he had been conducting interviews in-attempt to find someone suitable for the job role at hand. Dozens of young girls would confidently strut into his office— their high heels clicking against the expensive marble floor. They would try wooing him with a bat of eyelashes, which of course, Maxwell did not shame their attempts. Despite their unsuccess at acquiring the job, Maxwell did make sure they got a little something from him in return.

The businessman's eyes darted to the trash can under his desk as he looked at the discarded silk handkerchiefs he had just used to clean himself up after his last interview. Then, he re-acquainted his gaze to you, and picked up on the fact that you had yet to acknowledge his presence. You were too caught up in the furnishings of his office. You really were different.

"Ms Minerva?" Maxwell called you eventually, clearing his throat. Not recognising your newly claimed fake name, you didn't budge, but instead let your fingers trace the countries of a world map that hung on the wall. Pins had been stabbed into the capitals of most countries and you wondered what it meant. Perhaps it was all the countries he had visited— or more likely, all the companies that had shares in his black gold business. "Ms Minerva." Maxwell repeated, his voice more solid this time.

You felt your body freeze up, wondering how long he had been calling you for. Shit, you thought. You really believe you had messed up— just stumbling into his office and paying no attention to him whatsoever.

"Oh!" you gasped, spinning around on the heel of your foot, almost slipping on the water you had trailed in with you. Maxwell couldn't help but let the small smirk creep upon his lips at your clumsy but innocent nature. "Your office is… it's so…" 

"What you expected?" Maxwell prompted, leaning over the desk slightly trying to get a closer look at you.

Something about your demeanor drew him to you and he couldn't place his finger on what exactly it was. He wondered what your deal was. He wondered why you had decided to attend possibly the most prestigious interview of your life dressed the way you had. You hoped he didn't think you were deliberately ignoring him.

"No- I mean. I'm not sure what I expected, really," You admitted with a small shrug before approaching an oil painting. "This is magnificent," you said. "I've never seen such intricate work before."

The painting was huge— quite possibly the biggest one in the room. It was posed, of course, and you wondered how long the poor models had to stand there to be painted. They were positioned on a grand staircase with a purple carpet rolling up it. They looked stern- mean- not an emotion in sight.

"That's a family portrait," Maxwell informed you from his chair. "My family." 

Oh.

You digested the image of the couple with their young son. The child was no older than ten, you guessed, with dark blonde-browning hair and he was dressed in a shirt, shorts and bow tie. The couple stood behind him, and the pair consisted of a beautiful woman with red hair and pearl earrings wearing a fur coat and sleek silk dress.  "Your wife is gorgeous." You said, quietly, entranced by the family portrait.

Maxwell paused, his eyes not moving from you for a second. "That's my mother." he deadpanned.

You curled your fingers into a fist at your own shameless and idiotic comment. You could not forget how much you needed this job— you had to do better.

"Oh," you replied, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over you. "So that little boy is you, hm? Your hair is lighter nowadays," you smiled light-heartedly but Maxwell didn't share the warm sentiment. "You look just like your father." You admitted, eyes flicking between the suited man in the painting, and the suited man who was sitting at his desk behind you.

Both men were of an average height, with broad shoulders and the same, identical cunning smirk. Big brown eyes and swept but styled hair. You very little about the Lord family — to the general public, they were always an enigma. Tabloids would spread rumours and no one ever really knew the truth. You hoped you hadn't hit a nerve with the comparison, but as seconds went on, you cursed yourself for your inability to just keep your mouth shut.

Maxwell didn't reply to your comment, and the silence was deafening. For the first time, he looked away from you and into the light oak wood of his desk which he had inherited from his late father. He let a few sad thoughts ponder his mind as you continued to scower his office looking at all the high end decor, before taking a big huff of breath. It wasn't her fault, she couldn't know any better. Maxwell told himself, but it didn't hurt any less. 

Her words stung but he pushed them back as far as he could. Blocking out his emotions was something Maxwell had done his whole life and had become quite accustomed to. This was ridiculous. Maxwell wouldn't let himself get worked up over a brief comment about his father, by a girl wearing a last season winter coat who he had never met before. He stiffened up and cleared his throat.

"Ms Minerva, if you are going to just scope my office I'd be in my right mind to call security and have you thrown out." Maxwell sighed, tapping his fingers impatiently against the desk. Your head bolted towards him.

"Oh! I'm so so sorry." you pressed your hands in a pleading manner.

As Maxwell took in your form, his mind began to race. He could get used to looking at you like that. Pleading for him— on your knees— begging for just a taste of what he had to offer. The dirty thoughts consumed his mind and he shifted in his chair feeling a familiar fire in his lower stomach. Brushing past your pretty, doe-like eyes, he reached for a gold fountain pen and an expensive looking journal, opening it up.

"Why are you here?" Maxwell asked, dropping the pen, slouching back into his leather chair and kicking his feet up on his desk. You swallowed the hard lump that had appeared in your throat as you took in his posture.

"Uhm, well I- uh-" you struggled to find words. My god he was attractive. You hadn't paid much attention before, but now that he was sitting there right before your eyes, you felt a small warmth creep up between your legs.

He was just lounging right before you— his body spread out. He wasn't wearing the smart suit jacket as you had pictured, but instead, a crisp white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You could see the light hair on his arms glisten under the setting sun, and the yellow gold of his Rolex wristwatch sparkle as he played with the rings on his fingers.

Maxwell caught you staring at his hands. How could you not? Teasingly, he began rolling his jewelled rings up and down his long thick fingers. You found yourself biting your lower lip, pulling all your energy into suppressing a moan as you watched the way his fingers moved. You took in every detail, wanting to remember it forever— the light bronzed shade of his skin and the wrinkles over his knuckles. His nails were short but definitely well manicured. You let out the smallest gasp as you imagined how they would feel inside of you. You wondered how many of his fingers you could take and how they would stretch you open. You imagined his thumb rubbing circles into your clit as he finger fucked you and suddenly you felt your panties dampen. Your knees went weak.

He moved his large ring clad hands and folded them against his broad chest, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. You always wondered to what extent his magazine covers had been edited but he was just as handsome as he was on television, in real life. One thing you noticed was that his usual styled dark blonde hair was only slightly out of place, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. It was a change from his ordinary pristine appearance. Seeing that you were struggling to answer his question, Maxwell pointed his finger and gestured you closer to him. You walked towards him and stood still in front of him, only his desk between you both.

"Take it off." he mumbled, his gaze strong and steady on your body. You swore your mind was playing games on you as you engulfed his dark choice for words. You were absolutely ready to submit to him but deep down you knew that you were over-thinking.

"I- I'm sorry?" You croaked out.

His smirk grew and a small dimple appeared in his left cheek. "Your coat. Take it off." He commanded and you mouthed a small 'oh' before following his instructions and dropping your wet winter coat to the floor.  You cursed yourself. You were ready to completely undress yourself for this man you had never met before. Did he have this effect on everyone? "Turn around." he prompted you, twirling his finger in gesture. You slowly spun around a few times and Maxwell was struggling to contain himself.

You were delightful— wearing just a pair of washed out flared jeans and a geometric print t shirt. The jeans were very 70s, flaring out at the bottom, and Maxwell wondered how out of date your wardrobe was. He wondered if you'd let him take you out clothes shopping. Maxwell felt flushed as he took in how perfectly the denim sculpted your thighs and the round of your ass. He found your body exquisite. The t-shirt was thin, and he was surprised you had opted for such a fashion choice in the depth of winter. Despite the central heating being turned on, he couldn't help but notice the way your nipples poked through your shirt, hardened from the cold weather— or so he assumed they were hard from the cold weather. You felt his eyes bore into your chest and you crossed your arms over yourself, hoping he hadn't spotted your arousal. Maxwell felt his cock twitch at the sight of you and he fought the urge to bend you over and fuck you right then and there on his desk. You had an air of innocence to you, and he didn't want to ruin that. At least, not yet.

"Is everything okay sir?" Your voice was soft like honey and a small grunt escaped Maxwell's throat. He had just gotten off with his previous interviewee but you were simply something else.

"Perfect," he hummed wistfully. "Please, take a seat." You obeyed his order and slid down into the chair opposite to him. "Tell me, Ms Minerva. What urged you to lie about your identity?"

You felt your heart stop and your fingers gripped the arms of your chair. Shit, you thought to yourself. He had caught on. You gulped and tried to find a quick witted yet believable response to him but it you couldn't. Normally you were great at answering back but sitting before Maxwell Lord had you feeling some kind of way and you couldn't shake it.

"Tell me, who are you really?" He urged. You contemplated his words and decided there was no pointing in continuing your long winded lie. You were surprised you had made it this far without getting caught in the first place. He was still smirking, however, and it seemed like he didn't really care at all. Giving in, you told him your real name.

"Mr Lord, if I may ask, how did you know I wasn't Barbara Minerva?" you asked Maxwell.

"I can read minds." Maxwell said darkly, staring deep into your eyes.

Oh, his eyes. They had darkened significantly— once a chocolate brown but now they could easily be confused for black. Suddenly the extravagant decor around his office had become a mere back thought and you had been absolutely captured by his handsome looks. His skin was golden under the setting sun behind him and it accentuated the blonde highlights in his hair. His eyelashes were long and dark and his lips were the perfect shape. His nose was rather prominent and curved slightly and you imagined what it would be like pressed against your face as he kissed you. 

You wanted him to take you in his arms and glide his large hands all over your body, caressing you and touching you everywhere he could. Sliding his hand up your shirt and cupping your breast as he settled lazy sloppy kisses into your neck and collarbones. Realising you had been silent for perhaps a moment too long, you let out a loud laugh.

"Right," you chortled in disbelief. "Read minds. Very funny." you grinned and you even caught him stifle down a dry chuckle.

"I like you," Maxwell admitted and you felt your heart stop. "I think you'd be well suited working for me. Of course… we might have to sort out your wardrobe. I'd like to offer you a job."

He had barely asked you any questions and he already made his mind up. You couldn't believe your luck.

"Wait, really?" you asked, your eyes widening with delight.

Maxwell nodded slowly. "Did one of my secretaries have you sign an NDA on your way in here?" 

"Yes sir," you bit your lip anxiously. You had wondered what the non-disclosure agreement was for.

"So you know that if you repeat any of this to anyone else after our interview is over, I can and will sue you."

Not that you had any money anyway, his cold words still made you nervous. He was one of the most powerful men in the world. Friends with the president of the USA, he had relations with practically every country who bought his oil, and now, he was offering you a job.

"Yes sir." you repeated obediently, fluttering your eyelashes at him. The way that word rolled off your tongue— He felt his cock harden in his pants. You were just so damn pretty.

"I have to tell you then," Maxwell leaned forward on his desk, interlocking his fingers together. He was inches away from you, gazing into your eyes. "I'm not looking for an assistant." His voice was dark and menacing and a lustful glint appeared in his eyes.

"You- you're not?" You stammered, feeling your cheeks flush with heat. You wondered what job you had actually gone for.

"How familiar are you with sugar dating?" Maxwell raised an eyebrow, his eyes now glaring dark and sinister.

"Su-sugar dating?"

You weren't overly familiar, but sure, you had read your fair share of erotic novels that illustrated such prospect.

Maxwell stood up from his chair and walked around his desk before perching on top of it and looking down at you. "I'm looking for a certain kind of arrangement, per-se," Maxwell explained. "You give me what I want, and I give you what you want. Money, clothes, diamonds, jewellery, cars… whatever your heart desires. It's yours. Think about finally having everything you always wanted."

Your gaze met the floor as you contemplated his words. No, he couldn't be serious. He had the wrong girl. "Sir," your voice was a timid whisper. "I don't think I possess anything you could want." you told him sadly, insecurity bubbling inside you. He was the Maxwell Lord. Esteemed, knowledgeable, reputable, and he worked amongst the most beautiful and well dressed women you had ever seen. Yet, here you were, sitting before him, and he had chosen you.

Maxwell shook his head. "No." he said simply, extending his arm and curling his fingers around your chin, pointing it upwards so you were looking up at him. He wanted to trace your pretty lips with his fingers— spread them apart and feel the warmth as he let you taste him.

"No?" You beckoned, your heart trashing against your chest. His hands were so soft but his touch was rough and he steadied the hard grip around your face. If it were any other man, you would've pushed him off you, cursing him. But this wasn't just any man. 

"You have everything I want."

December Magic: @kiwi-the-first​ @100layersofdaddyissues​ @mrschiltoncat​ @honeymandos​ @thisisthe-way​ @this-cat-is-dea​ 

Permanent: @goth-topic​  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria​ 

#maxwell lord #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #max lord #max lord x reader #max lord smut #december magic #pedro pascal christmas

[eternalstrigoii]

I'd really like an Udo x reader, please! He deserves more love!

Udo x human!Reader with a heavy dose of pining and the promise that Udo and Guin are getting a full-fledged fic.

                                        Your mother was going to have to help you straighten your hair again soon.

Technically, she didn’t have to. You were a grown woman; you could do it by yourself, though it would be far easier to ensure every last strand was as smooth as it ought to be when you had help. Your mother’s help. No one else had ever touched your hair, and rightfully so, in your opinion (until earlier that day). Until Udo reached out, as though instinctively, and brushed back your hair from the shell of your ear. The temperance of his skin was not what jolted you into alertness – though you had not corrected him when he believed it to be – but the gentility of his touch.

It put all manner of thoughts in your head that had no business being there.

You allowed your brush to pause mid-stroke. It was perfectly natural to be lonely. Richard had been gone for nearly a year; the love of your family was unconditional, infallible, and always present to ward off the worst of your yearnings, but it was not the same as having your hand held by someone who loved you. Watching a gaggle of children run throw a meadow of wildflowers, your son among them, and feel at home beside the person at your side. You had only known Udo for a short time, but his daughter was your son’s best friend; you knew him to be a good father, a responsible and devoted caregiver, willing and able to care for children who were not his own.

You just couldn’t decide if you wanted him to love you.

Or, worse still, if you could even acknowledge your feelings in return.

You did not hear the breath of your bedroom door opening, nor the brush of Udo’s wings against the frame as he leaned in to tell you, “The children are asleep.”

You startled. Dropping your brush, you made sure your dressing gown was closed over your nightdress – it was one thing to sit around thinking about him, another entirely to sit in your bedroom, practically bare, when he was a guest in your home.

“I am so sorry,” you began, standing from the bench you’d set before your dressing-table.

The corners of his lips quirked, but did not fully upturn. “You did not hear me?”

“No.” And you should not have gone about dressing for bed until he’d left. What kind of a fool were you? “I should’ve. I don’t know why I’d forgotten you were here—”

“Guinevere,” he cut you off gently, “you are allowed to be comfortable in your own home.”

No, you admitted by way of breathing out rather harshly, you were not. There were standards – rules of propriety, let alone laws of etiquette that you’d miraculously failed to adhere to. A small handful of months under new reign, peace and prosperity and political alliances with entirely new races of fey and you’d forgotten a lifetime of court lessons (many of which had been engrained in shame under Queen Ingrith’s perpetual disapproval). You were not allowed to undress while a male acquaintance resided in your home unless you were chaperoned, which you were most certainly not. Never mind entertain thoughts of courtship with said male acquaintance. Not in the position you were in.

“Aspen and Rojan decided to stay in Arthur’s room. Violet, Dawn and Aya will sleep in your mother’s.” It was only fair, as six children could hardly be asked to share one bed.

You nodded, though the result of that conclusion did not strike you fully until Udo opened the door a bit more as if to enter.

The children occupied every other bed in your home. Which left him with nowhere else to sleep but in your room, with you.

There were alternatives, of course. You could politely relinquish your bed and go sleep with the girls, if there was room. He was your guest; courtesy dictated that you would sleep on the floor if that was what you must do in order to make your guests comfortable, regardless of whether or not said guest understood or acknowledged the social rules that had been engrained into you since childhood.

“Is the front door bolted?” you asked, though the smallness of your voice betrayed you. A moment’s extra time would not buy you much in the way of thought, but—

“It is,” he replied.

Damn. Maybe he knew more than you gave him credit for.

Maybe you shouldn’t have had that thought, lest you start entertaining the idea that the children were filling up every bed in the house and Udo knew what sharing a bed with you would mean to an observant, human outsider. Like your mother, if she returned from the palace earlier tomorrow than she said she would.

“The candles are extinguished,” he left the door open, though, which you could not bring yourself to protest. If the children needed you, it was the easiest way for them to reach you, but it also afforded some sense of lacking privacy – some persistent reminder that you were not hiding away in a love-nest somewhere, and you could be walked in upon at any time, so there was no reason to entertain the idea of being held by him while you slept. Caressing the length of one of his long feathers to see if they were really as soft as they looked. No, you absolutely could not do that.

“Except yours.”

The blue of his eyes was as clear and bright as the winter’s midday sky. . It was not the first time they’d caused you to lose your train of thought (nor the softness in his angular features or the grace in his approach). He joined you, only a pace away from the wool blankets that still lingered atop your bed for those cold, late-spring nights.

What would it feel like to be pressed against him under them?

“My what?”

His bright eyes glimmered. Surely, your voice must’ve betrayed you.

Your face warmed. You had to resist the impulse to pull your sleeves lower so you could fuss with the loose thread on your inner sleeve – it was not ladylike to pull at your clothing, or divert your gaze when someone spoke to you.

“Your candle.” His wing extended as though he gestured with the patterned end of his long feathers.

Yes. That would make sense. If he had truly put everyone to bed and extinguished the other candles – even checked the door to ensure your safety – your candle would be the last one to remain lit, would it not?

“Oh.” Very eloquent. You could almost feel the sting of a silver teaspoon across your knuckles.

“Are you ready to sleep?” He lowered his head ever so slightly toward you. Though some part of you knew that he would be searching your eyes for a response (or, perhaps because of it), yours lifted to the points of his horns, as though expecting them to lower near enough to touch the top of your own head. Never mind that they were another head above the advantage in height he already had.

“I suppose.” You tore your eyes away. Fetched your brush off the dressing table and placed it, bristles-down, in one of the topmost drawers of your chest-of-drawers. Tomorrow’s gown awaited you on the back of your dressing screen, and though it did not necessarily please you to imagine waking early to ensure you had time enough to dress before he joined you, you supposed it was only one morning. Perhaps, after sleeping, tomorrow would not be as awkward as it seemed tonight.

Udo gestured for you to take to your bed. He must’ve wanted you to do as you always did, though he must’ve known you deliberately would not; the opposite side of the bed was your usual sleeping-area, and you made sure to remain as near to the edge as comfortably possible lest he not have enough room for himself and his wings. (Surely, he wouldn’t, but you could no more control that than you could control the lack of adequate sleeping space for two adults and six children in a house meant for three.)

He extinguished the candle with a soft breath.

Yet, even in the darkness of a house at night, you saw the whiteness of his robes. The brightness of his hair. You watched him unwind his topmost layer from around his wings, and relieve himself of it in a folded square like the cloak of a formal coat. It was placed gingerly upon your dressing-table, as though he was uncertain as to whether or not it would be allowed there.

You had the nagging feeling he knew you could still see him.

His underclothes fit to his body more closely than you imagined they might.

You had no business thinking about his underclothes. Even if they were not underclothes in the sense you knew underclothes to be. Clothes under a coat. That kind of underclothes, not….Lord in Heaven, do not lie there wondering if he wears underclothes beneath what he already has on.

He drew his wings close to him before he lay down. He did not draw back the wool blanket that you had crawled beneath, and you did not realize he might see the flicker of unwarranted hurt that crossed your face.

“Would you like a blanket of your own?” you murmured.

“No.” He settled atop his wings, flexing them only a bit, and interlaced his hands carefully atop his stomach. “Thank you. This is a much warmer climate than my own.”

Oh. Of course.

Everything was perfectly reasonable, in the end. You shared a bed because there was no other reasonable alternative. Your children were friends, nothing more, and you often participated in such awkward exchanges because you were still culturally uncertain with one another, nothing more.

You had to force yourself to turn away. “Goodnight, Udo.”

You could only hide so much from someone who lay beside you. Udo watched the tension in your shoulders ease. Listened to your breath begin to deepen. Nervous as you were, the weight of his body beside yours did not disrupt your peace. In fact, he waited until he believed you were past the cusp of sleep to murmur, as if he believed you would not hear, “Goodnight, Guinevere.”

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

Tag list: @thesirenswolf @summitofdreams @birdsthough @thesherlockedheart @billywig-on-baker-street @madlenfireknight @squishy-jellyfish @of-the-moors @deathonyourtongue @shinva @quaint-and-curious-being @faro-en-la-distancia @slasherwife @kindawitchyhellabitchy @swim-reaper @mor-ranr @thetempleofthemasaigoddess @boxxyass @everydreamtilldawn

#Udo x Reader #Maleficent: Mistress of Evil #Dark Fey #Udo Maleficent #Maleficent Udo #No Beta We Die Like Men #(I will probably come edit this again one day because it is First Drafty)

[fictionadventurer]

The Dust That Falls From Passing Stars: Part 1/3

Snow clouds covered the midnight sky, but it seemed the stars were all down here tonight. Stars poured light from street lamps onto snow-covered cobblestones.The glowing heavenly stones glimmered from the coats and necklaces of the wealthy theatre patrons who bundled into plush carriages.  A star even glowed at Lorenz’s throat—a bright green star in a cloak pin that would grant him entry to the House Diriks ball. Once, such a pin would have been an impossible dream, but in his year of fame, wearing it had become almost routine.

In a crowd as grand as this, there was no chance of finding a cab in the after-show rush. Better to walk the eight blocks than stand like a beggar in the snow.

A voice from the street called, “Fortuin!”

Snow crunched beneath Lorenz’s boots as he stopped in white glow of a star lamp. He lifted his top hat and saw a hatless man in a blue silk suit leaning out of a carriage caught in the crush of traffic.

Lorenz acknowledged him with a wide-armed wave. “Evening, Coeman.”

The star jeweler’s son’s eyes had an alcohol glaze. “Look at you!” he crowed. “All dressed up for a party!”

Lorenz and Coeman were both shopkeeper’s sons, but that was like saying a hovel and a palace were both houses. Lorenz came from a long line of grocers, while wealth fell from the heavens onto Coeman’s family lands. Coeman was ever amused by those who worked for their living.

Coeman cried, “Did the lady unchain you from the piano?”

Lorenz gave a thin smile. “Even genius needs refreshment.”

Coeman laughed. “Only you’d call a walk in a snowstorm refreshing.”

The light dusting of flakes could scarcely be called a shower, much less a storm, though it probably seemed like one compared to the plush comfort of a starfall family’s carriage.

Lorenz shrugged, then smiled, pretending indifference. “I’ll get there faster than you.”

He strode away, leaving Coeman and his carriage stuck in the crush of traffic.

From the street, voices shouted, horses wickered, wheels clattered upon cobblestones, and Lorenz wove among the hoop skirts and overcoats of his fellow sidewalk pedestrians. As Lorenz turned a corner, his cloak billowed, and a hand caught upon the hem and held him fast.

He stopped, then looked down into the dirt-covered face of a ragged young girl, a small, shapeless form somewhere between eight and eighteen, who sat in the gutter holding a small jar of glittering dirt.

She lifted it toward Lorenz’s hand. “Stardust, sir? Two pennies a pinch.”

Even if he had a cigarette to light or needed his hands warmed, the girl’s stardust wouldn’t have done anything—it was ten times more dirt than dust. Incompetent even for a dustgirl.

He yanked his cloak out of her hand, but pity soon overcame his annoyance, and he dropped a silver krenin in the girl’s lap.

Her eyes shone as if he’d tossed her the star at his throat. “God bless you, sir.”

Lorenz tipped his hat and strode away. A bit of blessing and a lot of hard work had brought him to his current heights. He loved that success gave him the means to become one of those towering figures of generosity that so lifted up the downtrodden.

That lofty feeling carried him all the way to the entrance of House Diriks. The house’s towering gray façade dominated the street, a castle within the city limits, built to with all the embellishments of current architectural fashion. Crystalline windows gushed starlight into the cold and dark of the city, illuminating the arriving guests. The carriages were like wheeled palaces, and the people coming out of them wore silks and velvets and furs that glistened in the glow of the stars they wore on their necks and ears and hands.

In that colored crowd, there was one spot of brown. A ragged girl, older than the one Lorenz had seen near the theater, held a small clay jar that faintly glimmered with stardust. Yet she didn’t offer the ladies stardust to adorn their faces and necks, didn’t approach the gentlemen with an offer to light a cigar. Instead, she scurried away, her eyes on some distant destination.

Very strange. What dustgirl would waste such an opportunity? These people would carry her week’s salary as pocket change, and would likely throw a good portion of it at her feet just to keep her from coming too near. She hadn’t been chased away, and she hadn’t so much as looked at the crowd. Leaving could only mean she had better plans in mind, and Lorenz, his curiosity piqued, decided to discover them.

He trailed her along the house’s western wing, sticking to the shadows between the glowing windows. Wide balconies extended from all the rooms on the upper floor, all filled with laughing, chattering party-goers who glowed in the light of the stars they wore. Aestus stars glimmered like flames to warm their lightly gloved hands. A hundred colors of decorative stars adorned necklaces, tiaras, earrings, cuff links, and were even sewn directly into ball gowns and suit coats. A thousand captured constellations that made it look as though their wearers had fallen from the heavens.  

The winter winds blew scraps of stardust from their finery. It whirled in the wind, blew over the balcony, and scattered on the sidewalk below. This shower—not the spectacle above—drew the dustgirl’s eyes, and she knelt on the snow-slicked stone beneath it, scraping with cold-chapped hands on the ground as she raced to gather as much stardust as possible into her battered clay jar.

Lorenz found himself entranced by the tableau—the bright and laughing elite above and the earthy desperation below. There was cruelty here, but also beauty, something that pierced deep into the true nature of things in a way that he rarely considered. He could make a lyric out of this—not one of his light, theatrical pieces, but a real and honest piece of poetry. The complacent rich who wore the heavens at their hearts without a thought, and a girl who thought herself fortunate to gather up the crumbs. A downtrodden soul who scratched in the dirt, yet came up covered in the dust of the stars.

When the ground had been cleared of its heavenly bounty, the girl turned her attention to the still-falling flakes. Could she capture it all, Lorenz wondered. How would she separate the stardust from the falling snow?

As if in answer, she unwound her ragged cloak from her shoulders and spread it like a net between her arms. Half the flakes faded within moments of landing on the fabric. Lorenz’s heart flared in admiration as he caught the trick of it. Her body-warmed cloak melted the snowflakes, leaving her with a haul of pure stardust cleaner than anything that could be gathered by any other dustgirl in the city.

He felt a strange connection to this girl, who took such pride in doing such a humble job so well. He’d never looked at a dustgirl with anything other than pity, or perhaps relief that his family had never fallen so low. But here was courage, enterprise, intelligence, and Lorenz found it more inspiring than anything he’d seen from tonight’s crowd of starfall elites.

As the girl bobbed and weaved beneath the stardust shower, a deep-voiced shout shattered the peace.

“You! Girl!” A thick-limbed guard in the blue and silver of the House Diriks staff raced toward her, boots clattering. “Get gone, you filthy scavenger!”

The tableau shattered. The girl crushed her cloak to her chest and tried to run, face white with panic. As she pivoted, her foot slipped on a patch of ice and she landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs.  

“Get gone!” the guard shouted again. “We don’t need rat-thieves crawling ‘round!”

The girl scrambled into a sitting position, but still failed to find her feet. The guard removed a thick cudgel from beneath his cloak and drew his arm back for a blow.

Before Lorenz could think, he stepped out of the shadows, grabbed the girl’s shoulders, and pulled her out of the path of the descending club. She slid easily on the ice, and the guard stumbled as his cudgel met empty air. As the guard flailed to keep his balance, his weapon caught Lorenz on the shoulder.

Lorenz barely felt it through his anger. He unbent himself and demanded, “What do you think you’re doing?”

The guard found his feet, but his tongue faltered, stunned as he stared at this unexpected gentleman. “My…apologies, sir. I didn’t see…”

“Is this how you treat innocent women? Beatings and blows?”

The guard snapped, “She’s a thieving scavenger, sir.”

At his feet, the shivering girl looked at the ground, ashamed in a way she hadn’t been while gathering the stardust, as if the guard’s words had the power to turn her into the very thing he claimed she was.

It reminded Lorenz of some of the things that had been said about him in his early days in high society. It softened his heart and hardened his resolve. He’d do what he could to make the guard look at this girl with the respect she deserved. With all the indignation he felt, he shouted, “A thief, sir? She is my guest!”

Lorenz squared his shoulders, straightened some folds in his cloak, and loosed the cloakpin at his throat to show it to the guard. The silver setting bore the crossed swords and crescent moon of the House Diriks crest, and the center of it held a polished fragment of a glowing green star. “I am Lorenz Karel Fortuin, and my patron is Lady Diriks herself.”

The guard gazed at the pin, his face growing white. “That’s real.”

“It is.”

“And this girl is your guest?”

Thankfully, the night’s shadows hid details. Lorenz draped his now-unfastened cloak over the girl before the guard could get a better look at her clothes.

Lorenz murmured to the girl in soothing tones. “I told you to dress warmer, Anya.” Anya was a good name—vague enough to apply to peasant or princess.

As the shock passed, the guard grew more truculent. “Why was she gathering stardust?”

Lorenz asked, “What girl could resist a glittering starshower? It’s not illegal—fair falling stardust is public property.”

The guard didn’t seem quite convinced, so Lorenz turned his attention to the girl. He examined her face, crusted with sweat and snowflakes, cheeks chapped red from the cold. Her mouth was hanging open in surprise, and her brown eyes were wide with shock and hope. “Has he hurt you?” Lorenz asked.

“No,” she said.

“I’m glad of it,” he said gently. Then he turned back to the guard and snapped, “You ought to be glad of it, too. Harming a guest of House Diriks? Your lady would not be pleased.”

The guard’s pale, slack face suggested that he understood all too well what he’d escaped.

Lorenz helped the girl to her feet. She was taller than he’d realized, but impossibly thin. Swathed in his cloak, she looked breakable as glass.

“Stand tall,” he whispered, and when she stood more like a frightened lady than a battered street urchin, he escorted her past the baffled guard.

The guard watched them go with narrowed eyes, and Lorenz cast one cautious glance back toward the balcony. Most of the crowd stood heedless of the scene below, but a few sharp eyes followed Lorenz and his guest. Fortunately, he had plenty of experience in crafting scenes for balcony crowds.

Lorenz led the girl toward the house’s main doors and urged her toward the white silver-veined marble of the main staircase. “Let’s get you inside.”

She gave him a sharp, shrewd glance, more like her old self with the guard out of reach. “What are you doing, sir?”

Her words held a hundred other questions. Who are you? Why are you helping me? What are your intentions? He couldn’t hope to answer them with the eyes of House Diriks upon them.

“I’m helping you,” he whispered. He gestured in the guard’s direction with his eyes. “Until he’s out of the way.”

She took a step away from his side, and for a moment, Lorenz thought she’d bolt with his best cloak. But she merely examined him, top to toe, and seemed to come to some internal decision. “Thank you, sir,” she said, and started up the stairs.

The great blue doors opened before her, granting them entrance into the warmth and light of the House Diriks foyer. Lorenz bustled his guest past the outstretched hands of the attendants and toward a fireplace set between the curving staircases. She stared wide-eyed at everything they passed.

Lorenz smiled at her. “What do you think?”

“So bright,” the girl breathed.

Hardly fine poetry, but not an uncommon reaction upon entering the Dirik’s family’s city home. The Diriks House starfall was the prime landing place for solara stars—the largest and brightest that fell to Earth, with the purest, whitest light. Their decorations emphasized it on this dark midwinter night, with the crowning glory of a silver-limbed chandelier, holding half a thousand stars. Their light glinted off the silver veins in the marble flooring and the gilding in the deep blue wallpaper, sparkled on the bits of snow that swirled through the doors and brightened the eyes of the dustgirl guest who stared in wonder at it all.

He brought her to a wooden chair near the fireplace, hidden behind a marble pillar holding a bust of a House Diriks founder.

Here in the light, he could finally get a good look at her. She was thin and slight, but she was older than he’d realized—twenty at least, with softness to her face but a shrewdness in her eyes that hinted at experiences that had aged her further. Her hair was that indeterminate color between yellow and brown, wrapped in a ragged crown around her head. Her nose was dripping from the cold—he offered her a handkerchief before she wiped it on his cloak—and her eyes were as bright and green as the star in his House Diriks cloak pin.

“Are you well?” Lorenz asked her. “You took a nasty tumble.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” she said, speaking for the first time in more than a whisper. Her accent flattened and elongated her vowels—as stereotypical a specimen of the city’s lower classes as he’d ever heard. Lorenz had worked long and hard to train similar—though never so strong—tics out of his own voice.

“Did you keep the dust?” he asked.

Her dark eyes flashed. “It’s mine by right. I didn’t steal it. It fell fair, right to the ground.”

He dampened a smile. “I don’t plan to take it from you. The law’s on your side, so long as you didn’t knock anyone down to shake it loose.”

“I didn’t,” she insisted.

“There you go.” He couldn’t keep a lilt of amusement from his tone.

The girl caught it and scowled. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I told you. To get you away from the guard.”

“What’s that matter to a gentleman like you?”

He understood her suspicions. Many among the upper classes had little patience with their inferiors. “I guess I’m not as much of a gentleman as I appear.”

She went white, and seemed to try to fuse herself to the back of her chair.

“No!” Lorenz gasped, realizing the double meaning too late. He felt ill at the thought. “That was not an innuendo. I have no ungentlemanly intent toward you.”

The terror in the girl’s eyes changed to something livelier and more glittering. Almost as though she was laughing at him. “Don’t fret, sir. I believe you.”

Gruff with embarrassment, he said, “I only meant that I wasn’t born to this world.” Wasn’t much above a dustgirl myself when I started out.”

That amusement changed to interest. “That so, sir?”

He puffed up a little. “Rose through my own merit.”

“And you got a starfall lady’s crest. Is she sweet on you?”

Lorenz tried and failed to imagine Lady Diriks feeling tender emotions toward anyone, and felt ill at the thought of her pursuing someone so far her junior. “Lady Diriks is my patroness. I’m composer and lyricist at one of her theaters. I write showtunes, operettas.”

“They’ll pay you money for anything, these starfall swells.”

Pride wounded, Lorenz squared his shoulders. “They’re excellent songs. I’ll bet even you’ve hummed a tune or two by Lorenz Fortuin.”  

Her dark eyes stared into the distance before brightening with recognition. “That song about the lady!”

Lorenz wanted to point out this didn’t much narrow down the canon of music, but then she softly sang the first bars of a tune that was clearly “Nightingale’s Lament.” A surprisingly smooth alto.

“One of my better ones,” Lorenz said.

She smiled. “It’s pretty. I sing it to the little ones sometimes.”

“You have children?” he asked in surprise. She was old enough for it, he supposed, but not by much.

“Sisters,” she explained. “Three of ‘em. Oma watches them when I’m working.”

Supporting three young girls—and possibly, a grandmother—on pinches of stardust. It was poverty he couldn’t imagine.

He couldn’t think of anything to say in response. “I suppose,” he said, brushing the toe of one foot on the marble floor, “that you’ll need to be getting back to them.”

“Eventually,” she said, settling into her chair with a sigh. “But it’s cold out there and this fire’s so warm.” She closed her eyes, languid and content.

Her few minutes in the warmth had transformed her. The hard-edged desperation of the street had softened, and her pale, cold-chapped face had taken on a warmer glow. By now, the guard would be long gone, the balcony crowd distracted by their own amusements, but he couldn’t imagine forcing her back into those freezing streets so soon.

The girl looked at the fire, the star-filled chandelier, the skirts and furs and star necklace of a passing duchess.  “I’ll have one hell of a story to tell them at dawn.” They won’t believe the things I’ve seen.”

The words sparked a wild idea, more brilliant than the stars around them. Following the impulse, he asked,  “Would you like to see more?”

She looked at him warily. “How do you mean?”

“I really am allowed to bring a guest to these events.”

Her expression became hard and skeptical. “You want me to stay?”

“Why not?” Lorenz asked. His mind supplied a dozen answers, but his showman’s side and his romantic side teamed up against his more practical inner voice. Even a dustgirl had a right to see a glorious spectacle once in her life, and what could compare to a midwinter House Diriks ball?

The girl tugged Lorenz’s cloak around her snow-stained clothes. “For one thing, I ain’t dressed for it.”

Caught up in the excitement, his imagination spun glorious possibilities and leaped over obstacles. “House Diriks provides fully-staffed powder rooms for these parties. The maids can clean you up. Your dress will be a charmingly rustic costume.”

She looked up those stairs with longing. “Do you think so?”

A significant part of Lorenz didn’t, but it was tackled and sat upon by his more optimistic side.

“Just picture it,” Lorenz said. “The finest music, the most illustrious people. Food from the finest chefs on the continent. There are people in the city’s oldest families who can’t enter a House Diriks ball, but you could be an invited guest.”

He was drunk on the drama of it. It was madness, but such glorious madness. A melodrama fit for his finest operettas. The downtrodden dustgirl, pulled from the gutter to experience one night of luxurious enchantment. He would be her generous benefactor, her benevolent guide to this elegant world.

Her eyes sparkled in the starlight. His enthusiasm was infecting her. “You really mean it, sir?”

“I do.”

She grinned. “I’ll stay.”

He clapped his hands together in satisfaction. “Excellent! You won’t regret it.” He put his hand behind her back and began to lead her away from the seat behind the pillar. “I’ll be Lorenz to you, if you’re to be my guest. You’ll need to be Anya for the night. Those on the balcony may have overheard us.”

“That suits me,” Anya said.

He led her away from the fireplace and toward a yellow-papered door in a small alcove. “Very well, Anya. Let’s get you ready for the ball.”

#adventures in writing #starfall #back by popular demand #(thx rebekah) #i second-guessed myself and took it down #but last night i really looked at the stars and felt a very starfall atmosphere #thus increasing fondness for this story #and giving me the burning conviction that this blog needs starfall content this time of year #and subpar starfall content is better than no starfall content #so enjoy! #(and sorry if i forgot to put back in any of the edits i made the last time i posted this)

[jovialyouthmusic]

Lythikan Liaison 2

After the death of Jackson Walker, Bastien Lykel finds himself with time to kill in the duchy of Lythikos. He strikes up an acquaintance with a female member of the Lythikan Guard.

Word Count 3714

Pairing  Bastien x OC x ???

A/N NS*W no under 18s please Scenes of a sexual nature from the beginning under the cut; threesome (FMF)

2 Three’s not a Crowd

Bastien snapped awake, aware of being in an unfamiliar room and of the person next to him stirring. For the first time since his mentor’s death he had managed a night’s sleep without flashbacks. For a split second he couldn’t remember where he was, but then his memory kicked in and he let himself relax, stretching his arm up over his head and settling his palm behind his neck. The room was cool, but he preferred that to waking up hot in a heated room.

‘Good morning, King’s man’ Marcia murmured, disappearing under the bedclothes. He tensed for a moment as he realised she was going down on him, then surrendered to her ministrations. He was more than a mouthful, but she was both enthusiastic and skilled, and he was surprised how quickly he came. She swallowed and came back up for air, licking her lips. Propping herself up beside him, she reached out to his forehead, but again he stopped her from touching his hair.

‘You’ll have to let me when you return the favour’ she said huskily, and reluctantly he let her go, watching her as she reached out to gently run her fingers though his hair. She gave a slow smile.

‘No pulling’ he said as he untangled her fingers and leaned down under the covers to press his lips to her belly and work his way lower. She sighed with satisfaction and threw her thighs wide for him to taste and tease her. She wasn’t quiet and was easy to read. Her hand went to his head, and she pressed her palm to his scalp, fingers drumming as she approached her own climax. Like his own release, it was easy and quick, and they lay side by side afterwards. She was the first to sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and putting on a warm robe, reaching under the bed for thick socks. He sat up and watched her with a pang of regret, wanting somehow to stay longer - until his belly rumbled. She laughed and threw another robe and thick woollen socks on the bed.

‘Here, King’s man, wear this. I’ll start the coffee and make oatmeal’ She left the room and he rose, shrugging on the garment which fitted reasonably well as she was a well built woman. He had gathered his scattered clothes the night before and folded them neatly, putting them on a chair in the bedroom. He retrieved his boxer shorts, wrinkling his nose at having to wear them again, but there was no help for it. After going to the bathroom he emerged into a narrow hallway and counted the doors as he made his way toward the main room. He heard her clattering around in the tiny kitchen which adjoined the lounge and stood in the doorway watching her.

‘How many of you live here?’ he asked. She handed him a cup of hot black coffee, indicating cream and sugar on the worktop, but he waved his hand to reject them.

‘There’s my companion Angela, who you met, and our foster son. He’s away at the training academy right now, but he’ll be back in a couple of days’ His stomach clenched and he sipped the strong black brew.

‘Foster son?’ he asked

‘Yes, we’re more his mentors than his guardians as you’d understand it. He’s applied to train for the guard and the two of us support him. It’s common practice here in Lythikos. We get this cabin and a small stipend in return, otherwise we’d be living in the barracks.’

‘His parents?’ he asked as she turned back to the stove to stir the pot of oatmeal, tossing in some dried fruit and nuts.

‘He’s an orphan.’ she said shortly, and he sensed it was time to stop asking questions before he gave out his own secrets. He didn’t hide the fact that he had been fostered, but it wasn’t something that he bandied about casually and he had only just met this woman. He just nodded and sat at the table, leaning back into the wooden chair and watching her cook in comfortable silence. Before long she had ladled out the food into two bowls and brought it across, pouring a little cream into hers before taking a spoonful. He tasted it and decided it was sufficient as was. He hunched over it, eating slowly so he didn’t overload his digestion.

‘So, do you want to come hunting with me?’ she asked ‘You can use Angela’s rifle if you don’t have your own gun’

‘I wasn’t expecting to hunt’ he admitted ‘But it sounds good. What sort of game do you expect to bag?’ she shrugged.

‘Deer if we’re lucky, rabbit if not. If we encounter any boar it’s best to leave them, they can get nasty. It’s more of a group effort getting those beasts’

‘Do we need to travel far?’

‘No, we just need to go to the other side of the valley, half an hour’s drive. This side has snow cover, the other is wooded so it’s great for game’ He nodded approvingly.

‘I’m in’ he said ‘I’d better let my Captain know what I’m doing but I don’t think he’ll object. I’ll have to go back to my billet to get a change of clothes too.’

‘Okay, you do that when you’ve finished eating and I’ll pick you up in an hour’

-------

It was mid afternoon and the winter light was fading when they drove one of the Lythikan Guard’s SUVs back to her cabin with a few rabbits and a young deer. He had been the one to bring down the deer but he didn’t quite match her skill with the rifle. She regularly hunted for the pot, whereas most of the time when he handled firearms it was a handgun on targets in the Guards’ shooting range. She handed over their contribution to the head of her cabin’s block, a dark haired older man called Greg. He grunted at the sight of the deer.

‘That’s a good size, folk will be pleased to have venison. We’ve got a bit of hog left if you want to help yourself, and there’s plenty of vegetable stew.’ He looked at Bastien. ‘I’ve seen you with Jackson. I was sorry to hear he fell in service. He was a good hunter himself though he didn’t get much chance once he’d been promoted to Captain’ Bastien nodded, not sure how to answer him, but he was spared the effort as a younger man walked up to assess the kill and take it away to be butchered for the pot.

Marcia led Bastien to the centre of the common to the cooking fire, which was not entirely open to the elements as it was sheltered by a wooden frame which had a tarpaulin roof and moveable wooden panels to shield it from any wind. A spit with pork on it stood at the edge of the fire to keep warm, while a pot was suspended at the centre of the fire, bubbling with an aromatic smell of meat and vegetables. A table stood beside it with a few ceramic crocks. She filled one with fragrant stew from the huge cauldron and sliced up a few pieces of pork and beckoned him to follow her back to her cabin.

They had eaten bread, cheese and tart apples when they’d taken a break from tracking deer, and the aroma of the hot food made his mouth water. They sat at the kitchen table as before with two bowls, and no sooner had they settled than Bastien heard the main door open then slam shut.

‘Marcie, I’m home!’ The voice was that of a young man, and he burst into the room, smile fading as he saw Bastien, who stood politely to greet him. As quick as he was, Marcia was faster, getting up and running across the room to embrace the gangly youth, who looked warily at Bastien over her shoulder.

‘Marco, you’re back early’ she cried, then drew back to hold him at arms length, regarding him with concern ‘What did you do?’ she asked. He snorted.

‘Finished top of all my classes’ he boasted ‘So they let me off.’ She pursed her lips sceptically, and the boy nodded at her guest ‘Who’s this?’

‘Marco, this is Bastien, he’s a King’s Guard. I took him hunting today’ she smiled ‘Thanks to him, we’ll have venison tomorrow’ Bastien stepped away from the table, extending his hand in the Lythican handshake he’d learned from his mentor, remembering his words. ‘Always do it like this, Lykel, one hand, then the other on top of it. It indicates you’ve no weapon and you’re not a threat. It will win you respect’ He hoped he was applying the correct pressure – too tight and you were communicating your superiority, too soft and you showed weakness. He judged that he should give firm but equal pressure because although he was the boy’s elder, he was a stranger in the house and non Lythikan.

‘Sir’ Marco intoned cautiously.

‘Take your coat off and come and have some stew’ Marcia said ‘I got extra for Angela but  you can have it. She can get her own when she comes off shift’ Marcia smiled weakly at Bastien as the boy turned to go back into the hall.

‘I thought we’d have more time alone’ she said quietly ‘But it’s good to have him home’ Bastien wondered where he’d be sleeping that night, a little disappointed at the thought of losing her companionship. They had worked well together when they hunted, and like him she was the kind of person who didn’t feel the need to fill silence with empty words. The sex had been more than satisfying, but he was used to going without for long periods. It was a shame nonetheless.

Marco came back and drew up a chair while Marcia served out the rest of the stew and pork, adding a crust of bread for each of them. The three of them ate, silently at first, then Marcia began to ask Marco about his studies. Bastien watched the two of them, feeling that he should leave them to their talk. He was first to finish, and took his bowl to clean it.

‘I imagine the academy is similar to the one at the capitol’ Marcia remarked to him.

‘I’m not sure, as I’ve not been there myself’ he replied ‘It’s likely.’

‘It can’t be that long since you graduated’ she continued

‘I had three years training for the King’s Guard. I didn’t start there until I was eighteen’

‘Oh’ she replied ‘Military training starts at sixteen in Lythikos’ She and Marco had finished eating, and he took their bowls too.  

‘I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.’ he went on, seeing the young man regarding him curiously ‘I trained in karate when I was fifteen, and my foster parents encouraged me to join the Guard, although he was a maths teacher and my foster mother was an artist. It was a good decision – my job is very important to me.’ Marco looked up at him as he finished eating.

‘You’re fostered too?’ he asked, and Bastien nodded.

‘That’s right. I never knew my father, and my mother died when I was thirteen’ Marcia and her ward exchanged glances.

‘I’m sorry to hear that’ Marcia said ‘Marco’s parents died in an avalanche when the resort was being built’

‘That was unfortunate’ he said sympathetically. Marcia rose and doled out apples in the silence that followed. Bastien didn’t particularly want one, but took his as a good example for Marco.

‘I know I just got back’ Marco said, munching the crisp but sour fruit ‘But Brett invited me over. I thought if I went there tonight, I could spend Christmastide here’ He referred to Christmas and the day before and after, a traditional Lythican holiday. It reminded Bastien that there wasn’t much time before he could get back to the Palace and check up on the Walker family.

‘Were you thinking of a sleepover?’ she asked.

‘That’s right. He’s struggling with military history and he wanted me to help him with his assignment’

‘Is his sister Lydia at home?’ Marcia asked, and the young man blushed scarlet. Bastien tried to hide a smile, recognising that Marco most probably had a crush on the sister and was trying to find a way to impress her. Marcia’s eyes narrowed, and he looked sheepish, knowing she’d seen right through him. She reached out and slapped his shoulder.

‘Okay Marco, but just the one night. If I hear you’ve got into mischief, you’ll be grounded for the rest of the holiday, understand?’ He looked suitably grateful and embarrassed.

‘Thanks, Marcia. I promise not to get into trouble’ He threw his apple core into the compost caddy and loped out of the room. Marcia turned back to Bastien with a wide grin.

‘Looks like we have some more time together, King’s man. If you’ve nothing better to do’ He raised his chin and cocked an eyebrow.

‘I’ve not heard from my Captain, so my guess is I’m not needed’ he said in a neutral tone. She moved closer to him and spoke quietly.

‘Angela will be back soon. Perhaps you’d like to get to know her better’ His mind reeled as she nudged him ‘The bed’s plenty big for three, you know’ He swallowed – he wasn’t a stranger to threesomes, or moresomes for that matter, but he wondered if he could take on two Lythikan women. She seemed to read his mind ‘We’ll be gentle with you’ she murmured in his ear. He gripped the edge of the table and hoped he was up to the task, because he had no intention of backing down…

--------

‘Marcie!’ This time when Bastien heard the main door open and shut, the voice was female. Marco was gone, and he and Marcia were drinking wine. He stood as Angela, who had paused in the hall to remove her cloak, entered the room and raked him with her gaze. ‘Well well, you got a keeper here. Did you give him a good workout or have you been saving him for me?’ she purred. She was a little shorter and slighter than Marcia, fairer of skin and with pale brown hair, cropped as all the rest of the Lythikan Guard.

‘I think he’s got staying power, we’ve had a good time so far’ Marcia grinned ‘But don’t touch his hair, he doesn’t like it’ Bastien cleared his throat.

‘I always give my best, and I’ve yet to disappoint’ he asserted. ‘You can touch my hair, but don’t mess it up.’ he grinned and winked at Marcia as if sharing a private joke.

‘You’ll want to eat first’ Marica said, starting up for the kitchen, but Angela put her hand on her arm as she passed, stopping her. She leaned closer, still fixing Bastien with her gaze.

‘It’s fine, Captain laid on a spread for my shift. I’m good’ The two women smiled slowly and Bastien felt an urge to loosen his tie – except he wasn’t wearing one. He swallowed and squared up to the task, determined not to give way.

‘Well, ladies - shall we go to the bedroom?’ he suggested.

‘Whoa, whoa – hang on, King’s man. Let’s at least introduce ourselves’ said Angela. He tilted his head in apology.

‘Of course. Unless you want to persist with the nickname, the name’s Bastien Lykel’

‘A name that has merit. I’m Angela Firstfist’ she remarked, and advanced on him, stopping close. She raised her hand to his cheek. Their eyes locked and she leaned closer. He initiated the kiss, aware that he was outnumbered and needed to stay in control as much as possible, as we wasn’t sure just how much he could trust the two friends. She was an enthusiastic kisser, and her hand went to the back of his neck, open mouthed and with her tongue exploring. He became aware of Marcia moving behind him, and she also leaned into him, nuzzling at his neck and pressing her palms to his buttocks. He felt himself rapidly harden as the two women started to pull at his clothes. He followed suit, untucking Angela’s blouse and exploring her warm flesh.

The three of them worked at undressing each other, gasps and satisfied moans punctuating their movements. Angela sank to the couch and he followed her down as she parted her thighs and pulled him to kneel in front of her. He needed no prompting to start exploring with his tongue, and she proved to be only a little less noisy than her housemate. Marcia contributed with caresses and kisses to the both of them. Before she reached her climax, Angela stopped him, gasping and breathless. He raised his eyebrows at Marcia, who smiled.

‘It’s not your tongue she wants, King’s man’ she laughed. Angela pulled Bastien to sit on the coloured throw of the couch and pivoted to straddle him. She was slighter than Marcia, her breasts larger but her body toned and muscular. She reached down over her belly to wrap her fingers around his engorged member and her eyes lit up.

‘You were right Marcie, he’s more than a handful’ she bit her lip in anticipation as Marcia produced a condom, ripping the packet open for her. She sat back to roll it over him and repositioned herself. ‘We usually please ourselves’ she explained to him ‘but every now and again a man takes our eye and we take him out for a spin. You’re a lucky man.’ Marcia caressed Angela’s shoulders and nuzzled at her neck as she guided Bastien to her entrance, slowly sinking onto him. She wasn’t as tight as Marcia, but it was still a snug fit, and she rolled her eyes in bliss. He put his hands to her hips to steady her as she began a slow rising and falling. Marcia’s hand wandered between her thighs  as she watched them pick up speed, sighing with passion.

Bastien remembered what the madam of the Greek brothel he visited each year told him. He had gone there for advice on how to manage his size, being more than average in length and girth, and she had offered for him to spend a week annually, helping to train her girls in how to handle larger men. She had told him that in order to last longer, he should think of something distracting – a list of the monarchs of Cordonia or the duchies and their current dukes – anything boring and banal. He listened to Angela’s sighs and gasps as he thought of other things, and timed it perfectly to hold off until he was sure she was ready. She came with a great cry, writhing and arching, pulsing around him and triggering his orgasm. They slowed and came to a stop, letting their breath settle before she climbed off him and he made his way to the bathroom to clean up and dispose of the condom.

As he left the bathroom Marcia was waiting for him with an open mouthed kiss and lead him to the bedroom. They lay resting for a while, the two women either side of him, stroking him back to hardness. That didn’t take long – he had good recovery, and having twice as much stimulation as normal made it even easier.

’Have you been with two women before?’ Angela asked.

‘More than two’ he asserted, and Marcia laughed out loud.

‘I picked a good one. It makes up for your friend refusing Angela’

‘I’m sorry for that’ Bastien replied ‘He’s thinking of proposing to his girlfriend.’ Marcia frowned.

‘They allow marriage in the King’s guard? We don’t have that privilege. We have to be devoted to our jobs.’

‘It’s not common, but it’s allowed’

‘Would you have said yes if we’d both approached you last night?’

‘To be honest, I’m not sure. You Lythikans have a reputation, but I don’t usually back down from a challenge’

‘What would make you back down?’ Angela asked.

‘Knowing I’d lose for sure. It’s not worth the energy’ He turned toward Marcia ‘I believe you’ve missed out so far. Do you have any preferences?’ Her eyes darkened.

‘There is one position I like, but I’ll add to it a little. Just follow our lead’ She moved over to her housemate and whispered in her ear. Angela smiled and lay on her back, thighs open, and Marcia went down on her on all fours. Bastien grunted as he understood what she wanted, and went to the bedside table to retrieve another condom before he knelt behind her. He stroked her buttocks and ran his fingers over her sex, delving inside so she writhed and moaned as she in turn paid attention to the other woman.

The position was a real test of his endurance, as it was one of his favourites and he had to be sensitive to his partner. He couldn’t be too rough, though he was sure she would adjust and adapt to what he did. Her attention was split between them as he eased inside her. He went slow and gentle. The sounds the two women made threatened to push him over the edge, so he concentrated on remembering the duty roster he’d had to organise the week before. Angela gasped and thrashed under Marcia’s tongue, and came noisily. Marcia pulled her head away, panting with passion.

‘Harder, King’s man, harder’ she moaned as Angela rolled away and lay watching them, eyelids hooded, gaze slightly vacant in her afterglow. Bastien picked up speed, gripping Marcia’s hips, thankful for the firm mattress the Lythikan guard favoured. It gave him more purchase than a soft one, and he was soon pounding into her as she gasped and moaned in pleasure. At last he felt the flutter that signalled her climax, and he let himself go with a grunt, slowing and stopping as Marcia sank to the mattress, trembling and moaning. He mustered the last of his strength to dispose of the condom, and joined the two women in a tangle of limbs and bedclothes, swiftly slipping into a satisfied slumber.

@sirbeepsalot @stopforamoment @drakesensworld @katedrakeohd​ @texaskitten30​ @be-still-my-aching-heart @hopefulmoonobject @dcbbw @classylady1234 @rainbowsinthestorm @kimmiedoo5 @bascmve01  @ibldw-main @addictedtodrakefanfic @trappedinfandoms @fluffyfirewhiskey​ @kingliam2019 @bobasheebaby​ @marshmallowsaremyfavorite

#bastien lykel #Bastien x OC #lythikos

[jonsnowloversunite]

Winter is Coming

This is part of a revamped collection of one shots and other sexy pieces featuring my man, Jon Snow. It's a balanced combination of sweet as honey fluff and sinful smut. I hope you enjoy reading this as much I as I loved writing it!

(SMUT WARNING!)

Ghost had awakened Jon in the middle of the night, stirring him from a deep sleep. He began sniffing under the doorway and scratching at it feverishly. “What is it boy?” he said, sitting up quickly. He was alarmed by his direwolf’s behavior.  Jon felt a sense of dread pass over him like a cold dark shadow when the door slowly creaked open. To Jon’s surprise, Ghost sat down obediently, waiting for the shadow to enter the dark room.

“Who’s there?” Jon said firmly, demanding an answer.  As he rose from the bed, he reached for a dagger that was hidden under the mattress. He wasn’t entirely sure if this was real, or if he had still been dreaming.

“It’s just me, Elenya,” a small voice called from the darkness. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.” Jon met her at the door, making sure that no one saw her enter. He quietly closed the door behind them. Ghost padded over to the girl, licking her hands with his warm wet tongue.  Elenya bent down to scratch the wolf under his chin just the way he liked it.

“What’s wrong?” Jon whispered as a he lit a candle. He grabbed Elenya gently by the hand and led her toward the bed.  Her hands were always warm, even on the coldest of nights. But this time was different he noted. This time, her hands were like ice.

“You’re freezing Elenya. You’re going to catch a chill.” He could feel her body shivering next to his.  Jon covered her with a thick wool blanket, draping it over her trembling shoulders. The heaviness of it seemed to comfort her.

“Now tell me, what’s going on?” Jon asked. He could now see the dried up tears that had stained her cheeks. Her eyes were red and swollen.  

“I…I…,” she sobbed, no longer able to hold back. Fresh tears streamed down her face. Jon pulled Elenya into his arms and held her close to his body. “It’s going to be alright,” he assured her. Ghost nudged at her knees, offering his support. Elenya could hear the beating of Jon’s heart as she pressed her head tighter against his chest. The rhythm was melodic and soothing. The crying stopped and her racing heartbeat began to calm. Even her body grew warmer. Whatever had happened was beginning to pass.

It was probably just another strange dream, Jon thought. He knew that the dreams she had were very unsettling; they were not to be ignored, for they often came true. Some would even call them green dreams, prophetic dreams that could reveal the future. Jon grew up listening to Old Nan’s stories about the greenseers, but never believed them true until Elenya.

She had been confiding in him about her visions since they were children, although it took some time before Jon understood that she truly had a gift from the Gods, and was not just fooling him. The dreams had recently become more vivid, and they were coming nearly every night now. Jon sensed that this one was the worst of all.

“I dreamed something horrible,” Elenya whispered, finally able to speak.  She stared off into nothing, as if in a trance, and continued.  “A darkness is soon coming here. When the moon is at her brightest and fullest, she will suddenly shrink and go black. With no light to guide you, a pride of lions will arrive disguised in sweet lies. And no one will see what their true purpose is, and the danger they pose. They will take your family far away to the lands of summer, yet it will not really be summer. That will be another one of their illusions. It will actually be an endless winter for them, and for you, full of pain and sorrow and death.”

Elenya’s bright eyes glistened as tears swelled in them once again. She turned toward Jon and looked upon his sweet face. He wiped the wetness from her sticky cheeks with his gentle fingers. In that moment, he realized how much he loved her. She was the only person who did not see him as everyone else saw him. To her, it didn’t matter that he was a bastard with no mother to name and a father who had too much honor to fully accept him as a son. He was an outcast and always would be, but when he was with Elenya none of that mattered.

Jon drew Elenya close to him once again and whispered softly into her ear, “It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” An icy draft entered the room, and a chill overcame her. Elenya laid down on the bed and covered her legs with another blanket for warmth. Jon could see that she was shivering again, so he laid down beside her. She snuggled in closer to him, pulling his arm around her waist.  Elenya let out a soft sigh of relief and felt comforted in Jon’s arms.

Pressing her body so close to his, Jon filled with desire. He nestled his face into Elenya’s curly golden locks, inhaling her essence. He began to spiral deeper, and deeper still. Small beads of sweat formed on his brow, for he knew that this would be the night they would become one.

She turned over to face Jon, gazing into his dark grey eyes. “I have to tell you something,” he said a little nervously. “I am in love with you.” Elenya smiled. “I love you too, Jon Snow.”  He kissed her passionately, sensing his entire body tingle and come to life.

She closed her eyes as he breathed hotly onto her neck. Jon’s supple mouth found its way down her pale skin, showering her with pleasure as he descended. He unbuttoned the gown she was wearing and exposed her fully; plump breasts and ripe womanhood for the taking. The sight of her made Jon swell and throb. She eagerly found her way under the blankets and rubbed his cock, making it stiffer with every touch. “Oh Gods,” erupted from his mouth.

Elenya let out a soft moan when he placed his mouth on her, flicking his tongue and sucking on her sweet, hard nipples. She felt a strange surge of heat and wetness between her thighs. Elenya ran her fingers through Jon’s jet black curls, tugging on them when he moved his hands down to her legs, parting them open. His strong fingers knew his way to her most sensitive spot as well as his mouth did. Another moan escaped her, this one much deeper and louder than the first. Jon stifled the sound with a kiss, tasting of her sweetness. “We must be quiet,” he whispered, “We don’t want anyone to hear us.” She nodded in agreement as she reached for his manhood. She felt him- hot and hard and dripping.

Jon climbed on top of his lover and put the full weight of his body on her. She rather liked the heaviness. His strength was always something she found attractive. Jon slowly and carefully pressed himself into her, for fear that he may hurt her. Elenya’s face showed a mild grimace, but the discomfort passed quickly. She wanted him more than she had wanted anything, so she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around his body and pulled him deeper inside of her. He pumped his hips, gently at first, but gained momentum with every stroke.

Jon could feel himself completely connected with Elenya. The two bodies melted together. A flash of energy passed between them, electric and powerful; the most overwhelming feeling that either of them had ever experienced. Elenya ached between her legs when he left her. Jon finished on her belly, leaving his seed behind.  He laid down next to his lover, his member still pulsating.

Jon pulled her close to him and tried to reassure her that everything would be okay. “I promise that I will not leave you, Elenya. I swear it by the Old Gods.” Elenya smiled at him and lightly caressed his face, “I know you believe that to be true, but don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She pulled him close to him once more, exhaled deeply, and closed her eyes.

Jon lay awake for some time thinking about her dream and what it could mean. Whatever it was, he sensed that winter was coming soon.

#jon snow smut #game of thrones fanfiction #asoiaf fanfiction #fluff and smut #jon-snow-smut #my story collection #one shot

[litcratura]

WITHIN KINGDOMS COLLIDE—prologue

Author note: Hello there! This story is entirely created by me. It is inspired by GOT and ACOTAR. It is based on a story my best friend and I created and Calum and Arya belong entirely to her. As well as Silas and Riley. I hope you will all enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Trigger warnings: none, can contain heavy language

Wordcount: 1503 words

@drxmaqceen

Allison hated the way the corset dug into her skin. The way it only felt like the burden she would soon carry. The titles she would have to carry. Wife, mother, healer. Witch. The last title was the title she was most used to. She had been called a witch often enough. It was after all what she was. The blouse she wore had a small floral pattern yet covered her welly marked skin. Lily, the girl her mother was busy brushing her daughter’s thick and fire orange curls. “Can’t I just remain here, with you and father?” Allison questioned. She had been asking tis ever since she had bled the first time. Knowing she would have to go to Castle Loaghaire in the south. She didn’t want to go to castle Laoghaire; as she knew that Sebastian was told to not be the best man. Actually he was known to have turned his two eldest and only sons into werewolves. To make them stronger and faster. She didn’t know if it was true but it seemed to be. “We have talked about this, Allison” Lily said. As she grabbed some silver ropes. She braided the ropes into the curls and took care her daughter looked ready. “I just don’t get why” “so you can become a true healer of course. Madam Agnes is an amazing healer. She has taught me and has taught other girls. She bought your brothers into the world.” She explained to her daughter with a sweetness in her tone. “And all girls that are ripe and pure will travel, my love and you know Calum and Tristan” know, she hardly knew them. She seen them during parties and important meetings. But aside from some waves they didn’t know one another. Not as much as she had once known them. When she was four and the twins were seven, they were close. But then their mother died. And their father hadn’t been around anymore.

The skirts she wore were heavy. It was always cold where they lived, but Allison seemed almost immune to the cold. But the thick skirts kept her protected and took care no one could stare. They couldn’t see her curves as well as many men had hoped. The way her chest was covered her breasts were barely visible. As she got to the carriage her brother was already waiting. He gave a nod to her. And opened the door. He saw that in a way she seemed nervous. She seemed unready. Her cloak was blue and laid with the thickest wool. She wouldn’t need it in the south at all and yet she wore it. With a pride. The wolf pins on her shoulders. “Are you ready sister?” He asked. His tone was chilling, but she faced him and nodded. “More ready than I will every be” she lied through her teeth. Yet she moved up her skirt, just revealing the dagger she had carried around ever since she had only been 12. She knew how to move it fast and swiftly. “That is my sister” he said approving and helped her into the carriage.

The travel was extremely long. Though the roads were beautiful; Allison still wondered why it was even worth it. “What is it like in the south, Riley?” “Has mom never told you any stories?” Allison shook her head. “I felt the stories made her uncomfortable. If you even mentioned sir Laoghaire or his armies she shut off. All she talked about is Tristan and Calum. And how sometimes they were more behaved then you and the others.” She chuckled. “Did he really turn his sons into werewolves, Riley?” “So the stories go, Allison. Nobody is entirely sure.” Riley his tone got lower. As he looked at his youngest sister. “The south is warm. And its overgrown with the most beautiful greens. There are loads of woods and berries. And they are known for their silk.” He explained. “But I should warn you for sir Laoghaire. He is mean. And cunning.” He spoke. Looking into his sisters golden eyes. “I will be able to protect myself Riles” she assured him she knew she could. But she would have to treat the man with respect. He was said to be a king after all. And even a princess wouldn’t be a fool to mess with him. Especially a princess that was still ‘of age’.

The sun started to set and Allison drew her cloak closer to herself. The nights were cold no matter what. “You should get some sleep. We are not even on the half of our travel” Riley spoke and got besides his little sister. Putting her head onto his shoulder so she could fall asleep. Allison sighed deeply. “Will they like me there?” She asked worriedly. What if the king or his sons would hate her. If she wouldn’t fit in how could she become a proper healer. “You shouldn’t worry about that now, Allison. Now come on, you get annoying when you didn’t sleep enough” and with that she closed her eyes.

The sun shone brightly into her eyes as she moved herself up. The carriage was already getting warmer and she removed her thick cloak. Looking around as it was already greener here. Though it seemed like fall around here, not like summer nor spring. “We are almost there, carrot” “I almost forgot you had that nickname for me” she said to her brother. Allison had always been a redhead. And her brother had always kindly referred to her as carrot when she was a kid. Especially when she was scared and nothing seemed to calm her. “Its fucking hot already couldn’t you at least have warned me about it” she complained. Riley chuckled cockily. “And have less fun? No no I like making sure my little sister finds things out herself” Riley said. She rolled her eyes and removed her under skirt. It was maid out of wool and only trapped in the heat this way she felt some of the breeze as she grabbed one piece of bread from her bag. Eating it as she looked outside. “Are all parts of the country connected to seasons brother? Is it magic?” Riley chuckled. “In your eyes everything is magic. But in a way you are right. We are connected to winter, and this is Jefferson his land. He is connected to autumn” “The king’s brother” Allison asked, getting a confirming nod as an answer. As they passed the castle they saw bodies hanging on wood. Nails in their hands keeping them on the wood. Two females and a male. Allison turned away as they were naked and the stench made her stomach turn. “God…he is an awful man too isn’t he” she asked as they got further away. Riley nodded. “Unfortunately” he said.

After another twenty minutes they finally saw the big castle. Flowers and plants growing on the side. Outside there was a girl waiting. Wearing a silk white dress. And a maid besides her.”who is that?” Allison asked. Riley shrugged. As the carriage stopped she looked around more. The armies weren’t even here. As she got out of the carriage she looked at the woman nd realised she mustn’t be much older than her. Probably 19 or almost 20. She made her way to Allison and bowed. Allison returned the curtsy and looked around. “May I ask your name?” Allison asked. “I am Arya Laoghaire, formerly Antoine.” “The princess?” Allison curtsied again. “My father used to see your father as his equal. That makes you a princess too, Allison Chevron. Come let me take you inside. Riley you know the way right?” She asked him. Not in an unkind manner. Riley just gave a nod and replied with “aye my lady.”

The castle was a lot darker then she had expected. It was lit by candles. “The king is in bed. Drunk. And the healer is currently resting so you can unpack calmly. Take some rest maybe” Allison nodded in agreement. The travel had exhausted her. And starved her. They walked up a set of stairs before turning to a room. There were three other rooms. “Calum sleeps up here too. And his office is opposite to your rom. The brothers always want to make sure female guests are safe.” Arya explained. Opening the room. Allison her room had a kingsized bed and a desk in the corner. Stacked with a few books about healing already. As well as some parchment and quills. “Where are the brothers right now, my lady?” “Just call me Arya. And they are currently busy. Its not a talk for now Allison. Get some rest. I will send the maid up with some bread and meats.. as well as some salt, they say that Chevron’s enjoy salt.” “that’s an odd saying but it is true. My father said that it will cleanse our souls for the gods” she explained. Arya nodded as she got to the door. “rest.”