#One Shoulder Kaftan

[vikkates]

New pieces I would like The Princess of Wales to add to her wardrobe (1,179/?)

Gown by Honayda

This would be a huge departure from Kate’s usual style, but I love it when she shows up somewhere in something completely unexpected.

Available here.

#fashion #new wardrobe pieces for kate #honayda #gowns #red gowns #sparkly gowns #one shoulder gowns #kaftan gowns

[shares-a-vest]

"Are you sure you don't want to just come over to my place?"

Steve bites his lip, contemplating the proposal Robin has offered him several times this week, ever since he'd told her he was having lunch with his parents.

It was Father's Day after all.

His parents would be home for at least a fortnight this time, on a quick stop-over in Hawkins before leaving again, this time for a vacation somewhere. They needed "a break" his mother had said with a laboured sigh, all whistful and longing as if she wasn't making such a statement amidst a lengthy monologue about all the friends they had just caught up with in Indianapolis.

Steve guesses they were technically a business trip. Though his recollections of such trips he'd gone as a kid (back when his parents absolutely had to bring him along) did involve the odd visit to Head Office in between social gatherings that only ever felt vaguely related to his father's business.

He turns away from the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen to look out at the patio. His father is sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a coffee and, low and behold, reading his new copy of The Bourne Supremacy Steve had handed him at breakfast.

His father was impossible to buy for - so a book was always a safe enough choice, one that would at least give him a "thank you" in return with no further commentary or snark.

"Uh..." he hums into the phone as his father turns a page, "Y'know what? Maybe later."

He gasps as his mother opens the back sliding door to the kitchen, the skirt of her yellow patterned kaftan flowing along with her. He turns back to the wall, crowding the phone base.

"Steve?" his mother asks, chuckling, "You're still on the phone!"

It isn't exactly chastising, more amused like Robin's mother gets about the pair of them talking on the phone for a solid hour at a time.

He looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes as his best friend groans at the comment.

"Are you sure?" Robin asks, tone abruptly turning serious, "You know my dad loves you, Steve."

"I'll come by later," he insists, "Promise."

"...Okay..." she sighs before hanging up.

As he mounts the speaker, Steve is greeted with a knowing look from his mother. She is holding a glass of iced tea, fresh ice cubes tinkling away in the tall glass.

"Mom, don't," he whines, hoping to get outside and drive straight into the pool and away from any further conversation.

She holds her free hand up in surrender, tilting her head, "Okay, darling."

"I'm going for a dip," he grumbles before heading out to the pool area.

"Your mother and I are headed over to the Martens soon," his father announces as Steve passes by his reclining form.

His stomach drops and he freezes mid-stride to the outdoor chair he'd designated for his towel.

"What?" he blurts out, practically shouting as he whips around.

His father sets his book in his lap and looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his left hand. The sunlight reflects off his shiny watch and directly into Steve's eyes.

He grimaces, quickly mirroring his father.

"But..." he begins, trying to even out his clipped tone, "You said... We... You said we were having lunch here?"

"Your mother didn't tell you?"

"But..." he repeats, his voice catching in his throat a little, "It's Father's Day."

His father stands, stretches and gathers up the beach towel he had propped under his knees.

"We wanted to see them before we headed out."

"You're here for two weeks!" Steve argues, waving his hand as if to capture the presumed time his father has to visit his oldest and most insufferable friend.

"Steve, John and Louise's son is that busy working, he doesn't have time to be sitting around on Father's Day. So, we figured we'd meet them for lunch."

"Um..." he gulps, now blinking away tears.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out as slowly as his growing anger will allow. The sun feels like it is burning into his bare skin, now, no longer feeling like the calming warmth he had felt when he came out to access the pool earlier.

He opens his eyes to find his father turned towards the back door.

"I'm going to Robin's."

He doesn't wait for an answer as he pushes past his father and back into the kitchen. Thankfully, his mother is nowhere to be seen as he makes a beeline for the laundry room where he'd left his work clothes from yesterday with his car keys still in the pocket of his jeans.

He grabs his Member's Only jacket from the coat rack on the way out. Even though the thing is less than weather-appropriate for a Sunday in June, right now it will suffice...

"Steve!" Robin's dad beams after he opens the front door.

The man is wearing a comically bright shirt, a Hawaiian-style button-up with a primary-coloured geometric pattern and squiggly green swirls. Steve thinks his father would hate it.

"Hi, Mr Buckley," he says, offering a tight-lipped smile as he holds out a store-bought key lime pie.

"Steve, please call me Richard," the man insists, unaware that sharing a name with his own father makes Steve want to fucking scream.

Richard takes a pie with a formal nod, his smile dropping a little as Steve shuffles about on the spot. The man looks him up and down.

Shit.

He'd forgotten about the jacket just as quickly as he had shrugged it on before speeding off in his car. But Richard waves him in with an insistent hand, thankfully not prying any further. It is probably quite obvious he isn't wearing a shirt underneath. The thought makes him itch as he becomes all too aware of the slippery fabric, its lining making the back of his neck prickle with sweat.

"Robin is in her room," Richard whispers as Steve steps inside and remembers his flip-flops too as they scuff on the threshold.

"The pie is from Melvad's, sorry," is all he thinks to say.

Richard gives him a pat on the back, just as Robin begins descending the staircase, wearing a shirt just as loud as her father's, only purple and maroon.

She smiles, though her eyes suggest she is clearly worried.

"Steve's here, darling!" Richard announces, intentionally boisterous for their close proximity.

"Oh, thank god," Robin dry-sobs, making grabby hands for the pie.

But Richard snatches it up, playing a one-sided game of keep-away that Robin doesn't even attempt to buy into. He lowers his hand with a swooping flourish, looking a little disappointed.

"Anything's better than the in-laws' dry fruit pudding," he laughs as they both examine the dessert.

"Come on," Robin says, grabbing Steve's hand and yanking him towards the stairs, "This Father's Day's theme is Richard Buckley-Approved Shirts, I've already got one ready for you. It's yellow. You'll love it."

#istg i'll stop writing steve has bad parents TM at some point... maybe... #but this ficlet is not that time #st: father's day edition #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #robin buckley's parents #platonic with a capital p #steve harrington's parents #platonic soulmates #stobin fic #stobin 🍨 #harrington family TM

[beansprean]

Spoilers for ch 22 of "The Circular Conundrum"...

Excerpt from chapter 22 of “The Circular Conundrum” by @soontobecyborg!! I adore this series and you should, too.

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of the Guide’s gloved hands holding a plain shoebox with a silver-gold bow on top. She says, “Now there is one more gift…” 1b. Wide shot of the Guide standing in her usual black hat, blouse, and long skirt, holding the box and saying “It’s just a little something Tessa and Quinn snuck through airport security.” She smirks at the box and playfully spins it and throws it up in the air a few times. Behind her, Tessa, dressed in a leather jacket and skirt, plays at a sappy smile, one hand pressed to her chest. Quinn, dressed in a long black tee shirt dress, has an arm around Tessa and smirks at the scene. In the foreground, Guillermo looks up and over his shoulder at them in curiosity, the top of child Colin’s head visible at his side. The Guide continues, “You probably don’t even want it after all the amazing gifts you’ve just gotten.” 1c. Close up of the box in the Guide’s hands again as she concludes, “Maybe I’ll throw it in the fire…” The box immediately shakes and screeches in complaint. 1d. Zoom out as Guillermo, wearing a striped shirt with rolled sleeves, suspenders, green chinos, and his new Rolex rainbow Daytona watch, stands up and snatches the box from the Guide’s hands, clutching it close and staring down at it in shock. He asks urgently, “How long has he been in there?!” The Guide cackles and replies, “A few hours.” 1e. Bust shot of Guillermo as he lifts the lid of the box, snapping his head up as what was inside zooms out with an audible flap of wings.

2a. The motion lines from the box lead to a poof of smoke as Nandor appears back in human form, wearing the brown kaftan and diamonds patterned overcoat from season 4 episode 1. He spreads his arms out wide and grins, announcing, “Surprise!” 2b. Repeat. Guillermo launches into frame and onto Nandor, arms thrown around his neck and legs kicked up in the air, sending Nandor stumbling back in surprise. 2c. Zoom in to their embrace, Guillermo’s back to the viewer with his arms and legs locked around Nandor. Nandor brings his arms tightly around Guillermo to press him even closer, eyes closed in bliss and nose buried behind his ear. The background erupts into happy yellow bubbles. 2d. Close up of Guillermo’s face buried in Nandor’s hair, trembling with emotion, eyes tightly shut and glasses knocked askew. 2e. Close up of Nandor’s face buried in Guillermo’s shoulder, looking like he has exhaled for the first time in months.

3a. Wide reaction shot of the rest of the room. In the foreground, Laszlo is sitting on a loveseat in a dark red suit jacket with a red pussybow and red and black striped pants, hands laced together in his lap and smirking. Child Colin sits leaning against him in a green tee shirt, idly humming and not paying attention. Nadja stands behind them in her red and black striped dress from season 4 episode 1, one hand on her hip and the other raised to her mouth in a fist as she pointedly and loudly fake-coughs into it. Derek stands in the background in a leather jacket and dark gray button up with a chain necklace, awkwardly smiling with his arms held straight down at his sides. The Guide is leaning casually against his shoulder with a smile, arms crossed, as she watches the embrace with as much interest as Laszlo. 3b. Close up of Nandor and Guillermo in profile as they break apart, gazes locked. Nandor has one hand pressed to Guillermo's arm and the other cradling his cheek, smiling down at him with aching softness and love as he says, "Happy birthday, Guillermo." Guillermo looks up at him in wonder, smiling like he can't believe it, hands sliding down from Nandor's shoulders. He breathes out, "You came." 3c. Close up of Nandor as he straightens with a silly grin, waving his hand around nonchalantly. He replies, " Of course! You did promise to do something on your next birthday where I could attend also." 3d. Close up of both in profile as Nandor grins down at Guillermo teasingly, continuing, "So here I am. Attending." He boops Guillermo's nose with one finger. Guillermo, hands pressed to Nandor's chest, just gazes up at him happily. 3e. Repeat. Guillermo surges up on his tiptoes and presses his mouth joyously to Nandor's, one hand clutching at the back of his neck and the other reaching around his shoulder to press him closer. Nandor's eyes fly open in brief shock.

4a. Repeat. Nandor gets with the program quickly, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to the dip in Guillermo's waist as he returns the kiss with something like relief. Guillermo laces his fingers together at the back of Nandor's neck. 4b. Repeat. They turn slightly, deepening the kiss as one of Guillermo's hands slides down to cup Nandor's cheek and the other makes a fist in his hair. Both of Nandor's large hands slide up Guillermo's back, desperate to touch anything he can. 4c. Extreme closeup on Nandor's face as Guillermo licks into his mouth, Nandor's eyes flying wide open and bulging in shock. 4d. Zoom out to full body as Nandor suddenly grips Guillermo's arms in both hands and pushes him back to break the kiss, much to the latter's shock. Nandor throws his head back, eyes watering profusely, tongue out and fully on fire, screaming "Owowow ow ow!!" 4e. Repeat. Nandor runs off frantically, arms straight out in front of him, trailing smoke and licks of flame. Guillermo stands frozen in place, an anxious sweat forming on his brow as he brings one hand to his mouth in shock. He mumbles to himself, "Oh no, the holy water." Nandor shouts back, "Mmmm-mmm-mmm!" /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #the circular conundrum #fic rec #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

[braidlottie]

NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU, BABY.

pairing: lottie matthews x gn!reader

summary: lottie comforts you after a nightmare.

wc: baby fic 723 :(

tags: h/c (hurt/comfort), you live with lottie at sunshine honey, mommy!lottie sneak?!, lottie is super duper sweet to reader as always :3

title inspired by nothing’s gonna hurt you baby by cigarettes after sex

“somebody’s ready for bed, i see,” lottie smiled as you slipped into bed, wearing your new pajama set she bought for you. you rested your head against her shoulder, covering your mouth as you yawned. “such a sleepy little one. you had a big day, didn’t you?”

you and lottie and the rest of the adults went out for a nice friendly outing, staying out later than usual. going to ihop, and the fair, even driving out of your local area for a game of mini golf (that shauna suggested of course). you had so much fun, you wished you could redo the day all over again.

nodding, you snuggled into lottie’s pillow, feeling so warm and comfortable already under the white duvet. “aren’t you going to work in your office?”

“just for a bit. you think you’ll still be awake when i’m back?”

“nuh-uh.” you slurred. lottie just chuckled, grabbing her laptop, her glasses and patted your leg. she slipped on one of her kaftans that was hanging up in the closet. “that’s okay if you aren’t, sweetheart. i’ll be twenty minutes. tops.” she kissed you twice, once the nose and the lips before walking down the hall to her office.

the night got quieter and quieter at the compound, until nothing but the swaying of the trees from the wind was heard. you tried to wait up for lottie, so you put on a movie but unfortunately fell asleep within the first minutes.

***

“please, let her go, please! don’t-”

“shut. up.” you heard a man’s voice behind you. he walked over to lottie, pushing her down to the floor. she grunted and sighed, looking back at you with a bloody lip. “it’s gonna be okay-” she was cut off by the man kicking her in the face. you screamed, trying to get out of the ropes that restrained you down to a chair. “stop! stop hurting her, please!” the man pulled his pistol out from the back of his jeans, pointing it at lottie’s head and cocking it back-

“baby? baby, hey,” you were shaken away by lottie. when you were fully aware of where you were, you looked at her, she was completely unscathed, not even a single drop of blood from her lips. you didn’t even realize you were crying until you felt lottie’s hand on your cheek, wiping your tears away.

“i heard you shouting from down the hall, sweetheart. did you have a nightmare?” you nodded at the question, letting out a sob when you remembered the awful scenario. you rubbed your teary eyes against the fuzzy blanket you were swaddled in. “oh, little one,” she held out her arms for you.

“c’mere.” she helped you sit up, her hands under your arms. she pulled you into her chest, feeling your tears already soaking into her robe. she wrapped you up in the blanket tighter, planting a sweet kiss on your temple. “do you mind telling me what happened in your nightmare, baby?”

“there was a man, ‘n he was hurting you but i couldn’t stop him, ‘nd- and he was gonna shoot you, but i couldn’t stop him because-” you sobbed and lottie’s heart broke, your words fast and jumbled, along with your hoarse voice.

“we’re safe, angel, okay? it must’ve felt real at the time, but it’s not. what’s real is just me and you right now. he’s not gonna get us, i promise. mommy’s here, baby.” lottie brushed your fresh set of tears away, your cries making an abrupt stop at what lottie called herself. “there you go. you’re okay, honey.”

you felt her pull away, but heard the bedside lamp click on soon after, lighting up the room. lottie knew you didn’t like the dark that much, she just didn’t want you to be more scared than you already were.

“i’m scared to go to sleep again.” you nuzzled closer to her, trying to fight the sleep you were scared to succumb to. “you don’t have to, sweetheart. you wanna walk down to the kitchen with me? mommy’ll make you some tea, cocoa. anything you want, my baby.”

“cocoa.” you whispered, wiping your nose on your sleeve. lottie smiled, picking an eyelash off by the corner of your eye. “yeah? there’s my little one. c’mon,” she grabbed your hand, helping you out of bed.

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #adult lottie #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews fluff #lottie matthews #lottie x reader #lottie yellowjackets

[formulauno98]

Once Upon a Time in Abu Dhabi | Chapter Eleven

The final race of the season was always a spectacle, however, this season the tension was off-track.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: Possible pregnancy

Author’s Notes: Disclaimer, purely fiction, no-one is married in this alt-universe.

Thank you to everyone who has read, commented and shown some love for this fic. It is finally finished! I have plenty more ideas in my head so watch this space!

WEDNESDAY AM

You’d discovered you were pregnant three days ago and were now back in the UK, packing for Abu Dhabi and in utter turmoil. You hadn’t told Toto as he’d jetted off ahead of you on the Monday so you hadn’t shared the news with a single soul. You’d told Rosie it was a bout of food poisoning mixed with exhaustion and she’d not questioned things further. 

Logically you knew you had landed yourself in this situation thanks to your own stupidity but you couldn’t help but feel unlucky. You’d had one slip-up where you’d not been careful and it had been a bullseye. Having gone to your local doctor in Oxfordshire, he had confirmed that you were three months along, meaning that you must have conceived in France. Ever since this revelation you had cursed French wine and Toto’s charm. You were never the type to not be careful and it just went to show that it only takes one time to change your life forever.

As you were a little way along you were already due to have a twelve-week scan but in your heart of hearts, you knew you couldn’t do it without telling Toto. You’d told the concerned doctor that you’d book it in once you were back from Abu Dhabi and discuss options moving forward. Time wasn’t on your side but you’d begun weighing up what to do and knew you had a short window in which you could decide whether or not to move forward with the pregnancy.

Packing was a challenge as although you were nowhere near debuting a baby bump, you’d put on a few pounds around your breasts and hips and nothing fit as it should. Prior to last week, you’d pegged it down to overindulging while travelling but now you weren’t so confident. Shaking your head as you put yet another too-small skirt back into your wardrobe you reached for a loose kaftan-style dress, hoping you wouldn’t stand out too much. You had a sponsor lunch with Toto the following day and you always made an effort to dress to impress. 

Sighing, you finished packing for what would be the final time this season and made your way downstairs to wait for the car that would take you to the airport. You were flying commercial with Sophie and knew everything always took longer than when you flew via private jet. 

THURSDAY AM

Having landed late on Wednesday evening you’d gone straight to your hotel room and straight to bed. Unusually, Toto was staying in a different hotel as the company travel department had had trouble squeezing the whole team into one hotel, leaving the team split in half. Fortunately, they had split the team by department so your direct reports were all nearby.

This meant, however, that you had to take a ten-minute taxi ride to meet Toto in his hotel lobby ahead of your sponsor lunch. He’d offered to pick you up but it would have meant him doubling back on himself as the restaurant you were going to was nearer to his hotel. As your car drew up to the front of his hotel you were apprehensive. You didn’t want to hide anything from Toto but equally, it was not fair to drop this news on him ahead of a business lunch or what was sure to be a tense and stressful weekend. You just had to sit it out for three days and not alert suspicions. Easy peasy.

Crossing the lobby you spotted your beau waiting for you, leaning jauntily against a marble column. As he met your eyes he broke out into a wide grin, obviously as happy to see you as you were him.

“Hey stranger,” he said, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder before leaning down and whispering, “I want to kiss you but it’s frowned upon here.”

You giggled, Toto was always proper, “That’s fine, bold of you to assume I wanted to kiss you.”

“You’re so mean to me.” he said, before looking you up and down, surveying your outfit and adding with a smirk “Nice outfit by the way, are you trying to blend in with the locals?”

You narrowed your eyes, knowing that the breezy kaftan was not a typical you-outfit, “Perhaps, I fancied a change.”

Toto smiled, “I like it actually, you look very… elegant.”

Bursting out laughing, you replied, “Smooth save.”

Toto laughed, resting his hand on the small of your back, “Shall we go? Our car is waiting.”

“Sure, but no touching Mr., don’t want to give people the wrong idea,” you said, poking your tongue out.

“I’m helping you walk,” he said, chuckling as you made your way out of the hotel lobby.

– – – 

Fortunately for you, lunch passed quickly, with the sponsors agreeing to a new three-year deal, leaving you and Toto beaming. You’d been apprehensive about the meeting following on from the PR disaster that had hit the team last week but fortunately, the majority of suppliers accepted that it was a planted story. The deal was toasted with the same sparkling rosewater that the drivers would be spraying on the podium so luckily you didn’t even need to feign drinking.

As you made your way back to the car that would take you to Toto’s hotel, Toto’s phone rang.

“Do you mind if I take this, it’s my lawyer?” he asked.

“Of course, take it!” you said, “I’ll wait here.”

As you settled down on a cushy chair in the entrance of the restaurant, Toto made his way outside for some privacy. You were curious about what the latest was but knew that these kinds of things took time and it was likely just a courtesy call.

You took the brief reprieve to catch up on your emails and messages, your job busy as ever. You were grateful for your team, often fielding and solving issues before they even came to you, however, last week had been an unprecedented challenge and your inbox was still full of tabloid journalists looking for gossip.

As you typed yet another “No comment” response, Toto made his way back towards you, a wide smile on his face.

“Good news?” you asked, gathering your phone and notebook up.

“Yes and no.” said Toto, “The man in contact with Lara is one of the Red Bull senior management, so not Christian.”

Your eyes widened as you made your way out of the restaurant alongside Toto, “To be honest, I’m not surprised. Christian’s smart, if he did have anything to do with it, he would have gotten someone else to do his dirty work.”

“Exactly,” said Toto, deep in thought.

THURSDAY PM

Having wrapped another relentless media day, thankfully the last one of the season, you were now settled into Toto’s room for the evening, curled up on the balcony watching the glorious sunset, with a book in hand, while Toto took a shower. Thoughts raced through your mind at one hundred miles an hour, overthinking all of the possible scenarios that would follow you telling Toto your news. You’d known each other a while but hadn’t been romantically involved for that long and you had never even discussed whether Toto wanted any more children. You knew you had to tell him asap but finding the right time was going to be tricky.

“Y/N.” came a deep voice from the patio door.

“Hey, feeling better?” you asked, turning around to the easy-on-the-eyes sight of a shirtless Toto with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yes, I feel human again.” he said, walking out onto the balcony and ducking down to kiss your forehead, “Sorry I was grumpy earlier.”

You laughed, patting his shoulder, “It’s okay, we all have those days.” Toto had been in a foul mood all afternoon, a culmination of being grilled by journalists about his private life and suffering in a long-sleeved shirt in the extreme Abu Dhabi heat. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” he asked with a grin, “Can I get you a drink?”

Suddenly in a panic, you replied hastily. “I’m fine with water, thanks.”

Toto raised his eyebrows, knowing that you normally loved a glass of wine after a long, difficult day. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, I just have a small headache, I think I didn’t drink enough water today,” you said, hoping he’d buy it.

“Do you need paracetamol?” he asked, looking concerned.

“No, no,” you said, “I already took some, don’t worry.”

Still looking a little worried, Toto seemed to believe your cover story, “If you’re sure. I might get a beer if it’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” you said, laughing at his ever-impeccable manners. “Come join me, it’s nice out here with the breeze.”

“If you’re sure,” he replied, disappearing back into the room before promptly returning with a cold beer in one hand and a glass of water in another.

“Come here,” you said, scooching over on your sunlounger to make room.

“I’m not going to fit there!” he said, looking down suspiciously.

“You’ll just have to get cosy with me,” you said, batting your eyelashes.

“If I absolutely have to,” he said with a smirk, setting the drinks down on the side table and ducking down to lie down beside you, pulling you across onto his chest as he lay down on his back.

“This is nice,” you said, resting your head on his bare chest, feeling his heart racing.

“Mmm,” he said, pulling you closer and tracing circles on your hip. “I wish we could do this all day.”

Smiling, you felt his heart slowing down as he relaxed, “After tomorrow we can.”

Toto sighed, “I’ve never needed the break so badly.”

“I know, I don’t like seeing you so stressed,” you replied, feeling guilty that you were keeping a secret that would only add to his woes.

“You de-stress me,” he said, clutching you even closer.

“I try,” you said, feeling even worse.

FRIDAY AM

Having dozed off on the sunlounger, you and Toto had dragged yourselves to bed, falling asleep as soon as your heads hit the pillow. Waking up, you felt rejuvenated, you’d needed a peaceful sleep after the chaos of the last few weeks.  

Carefully extracting yourself from a still-asleep Toto’s arms (he loved a cuddle) you tip-toed to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You’d planned to head to the gym with Toto but life had other plans as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

“Fuck.” you said out loud, turning sideways to see that your stomach had suddenly curved ever so slightly outwards overnight. It wasn’t enough to look like a bump but it was noticeable and you knew that your gym kit would leave no room to hide, raising questions.

“Everything okay?” asked a voice from outside the bathroom. Toto had obviously woken up and heard your cursing.

“Yes, just tripped over the bathmat,” you said, wrapping yourself in a robe and trying not to rouse suspicion as you opened the door to let Toto in. “By the way, I think I might skip the gym for a swim this morning.”

“Oh.” he replied, obviously a little disappointed that you wouldn’t be joining him, “Is everything okay?”

“Yep, all good.” you said, “I just don’t want to overdo it.”

“If you’re sure.” he said, “Maybe I could come for a swim with you?”

“No.” you blurted out, far more harshly than you intended.

“Just a suggestion,” he said, his eyebrows raising.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, I just know that you prefer the gym,” you said, making your way over towards him.

“Are you sure you are feeling okay Y/N? I’ve been worried about you since Brazil.” Toto replied, looking down at you curiously.

“I’m fine,” you said, stretching up for a quick kiss.

“If you’re sure,” said Toto, looking unconvinced.

– – – 

Toto had left for the gym, leaving you to deal with your latest problem. You felt guilty about lying to Toto about going for a swim but you needed peace and quiet to gather your thoughts. And more pressingly, figure out how you were going to fit into your normally snug-fitting Mercedes uniform. 

You’d tried stretching your trousers to fit but it seemed beyond the realms of physics that you were going to fit into them. Desperate times called for desperate measures and you called Rosie in a panic.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?” she replied, sounding somewhat sleepy.

“Morning Rosie, I am sorry to call you but I have a small emergency,” you said.

“Shit, what’s happened now,” she said, suddenly sounding much more lucid.

“Oh no no, nothing bad, don’t worry. Basically, I’ve gained a few pounds and my uniform doesn’t fit. Could I possibly borrow your spare set?”

At that, Rosie burst out laughing. You could hear George stirring awake in the background, inquiring as to who was calling so early. “That’s the emergency? Sure I’ll come over. Are you in Toto’s hotel?”

“Yep, room 754.” You said, “Thank you so much, you are a lifesaver.”

“I’ll be right there,” she said, hanging up.

– – – 

Not five minutes had passed when there was a gentle knock on the door. Rosie was once again to the rescue.

“Morning,” you said as you opened the door to a bleary-eyed Rosie sporting her pyjamas and a Mercedes-branded tote bag.

“Morning,” she replied sleepily, stepping into the room. “So I have two different sizes of uniform and I brought them both.”

“Oh my God, Rosie you are a lifesaver, thank you thank you.” you squealed as she handed you two pairs of trousers and two shirts, “Can I try both?”

“Sure,” she said kindly, “I’m sure the smaller set will be better since you’re much smaller than me.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” you said furtively, heading into the bathroom.

“Well, you know what they say about people in relationships,” she said, from outside the door.

“Huh?” you replied, sticking your head out as you struggled with the smaller pair of trousers.

“You pile on the pounds when you’re happy,” she said laughing.

Grimacing, you wriggled around, fighting the waistband “I must be super happy then, looks like it will be the bigger pair.”

“Sheesh! You really have piled on the pounds,” said Rosie, before backtracking when she saw your face drop, “I’m just joking, oh my gosh I would kill to look like you!”

Struggling to fight back the tears, you decided it was now or never to spill, “Rosie, don’t freak out.”

Now it was Rosie’s turn to say “Huh?” your best friend and confidant looking curiously at you. “What’s wrong Y/N?”

“I’m pregnant.” you blurted out.

Rosie’s face went through a full circle of emotions as she processed the news, her initial shock turning into a smile that then dropped as she considered the ramifications. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.” you gulped, “Remember in France, when I had the scare and then in Brazil when I wasn’t feeling well and you made me go to the medic?”

“Fuck, I knew something was up!” said Rosie, so shocked that she’d had to take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of the bed.

“Yep,” you said, tears now fully flowing as you sat down beside her in your still unbuttoned too-small trousers.

“Oh love, it’s going to be okay.” she said, putting her arm around you, “What did Toto say?”

“Nothing… I haven’t told him yet,” you said bashfully.

“You haven’t told him?” Rosie asked incredulously, “You need to tell him Y/N!”

“I know, but there hasn’t been the right moment,” you said.

“Aw Y/N, don’t cry, you’ll make me cry!” said Rosie, her eyes starting to well up, “He’ll be happy, the way he looks at you, I just know it.”

“I’m not sure.” you said, stealing yourself slightly as you dabbed away your tears with your sleeve, “He already has two children, he might be done.”

Just as Rosie was about to say something the door opened.

“Oh hi Rosie, is everything okay?” said a worried-looking Toto, looking from you to Rosie and back again, clearly clocking the fact that you were both crying.

“Yes yes,” she said, wiping away her own tears, “I just had some bad news and needed a shoulder to cry on.”

Toto’s face dropped, he was as fond of Rosie as you were, “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, it’s okay, Y/N helped me out. Thank you though, you two are the best,” Rosie said, dutifully lying on your behalf. She was selling her story and if you weren’t so fraught with worry and in tears, you’d be impressed by her acting abilities.

“If you’re sure,” said Toto, still looking at you both suspiciously.

“Yep, I had better get going. I’ll see you later,” she said, getting up and squeezing your shoulder lightly.

“See you, Rosie. Let me know if I can help with anything else” you said quietly, not trusting your ability to hold back more tears. It was a flaw of yours that once you started crying you always found it hard to keep it together.

“Will do,” she said, closing the door behind her.

“Is she okay?” asked Toto, sitting down beside you, before adding “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, all good, we sorted it. Just girl stuff, don’t worry,” you said, smiling weakly, leaning on his shoulder and sighing.

“Did George do something? Do I need to have a word?” he asked.

“No, no nothing like that!” you said, not wanting to raise further suspicion, “Rosie said she’d speak to him.

“Well I hope everything is okay with them,” said Toto stoically.

“Yeah, just young love!” you said, snuggling closer, lost in your thoughts.

– – – 

The morning passed without further incident, thankfully Rosie’s larger uniform set fitting perfectly as you once again navigated the paddock during the Free Practice sessions. In an interesting turn of events, Christian Horner’s PA had requested to set up a meeting that afternoon between the two warring Team Principals and you were intrigued why.

“Why would he want to meet with you one-on-one?” you asked Toto as you sat in his office post-Free Practice Two.

“I’m not sure and I don’t like there not being a lawyer,” said Toto, crossing his arms opposite you.

“Are you going to go?” you asked.

“I will see what he has to say,” said Toto, frowning.

“Hmm, if it gets contentious just leave,” you said, half concerned, half curious.

“Of course.” said Toto, leaning across the desk towards you, “I’m so tired of this bullshit Y/N.”

Surprised by Toto’s admission, you retorted, “Are you talking to me as your Director of Communications or as your girlfriend?”

“Both.” said the weary Austrian, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I love the racing but the rest, it’s like being in Kindergarten.”

Your eyes sympathetic, you leaned forward, “You’ll feel better after the break.”

“I hope so.” he said, “I’m excited for you to meet my family”

“This is definitely girlfriend territory,” you said with a grin, “And I am too, I hope they like me.”

“They will love you,” said Toto, smiling widely, “Just like I do.”

Melting under his chocolate brown gaze, you smiled back. Although you always promised each other to keep your work and personal lives separate, stolen moments like this were special.

“Well, I suppose I had better go and see what he has to say,” said Toto with a sigh, getting up from his chair.

Following suit, you made your way out of Toto’s office to return to your own, wishing Toto luck as he made his way down the stairs towards his rival’s hospitality area. “Good luck, let me know what he says,” you said.

“Will do, see you later,” Toto replied, clearly a little apprehensive about his meeting.

– – – 

Having been on tenterhooks waiting for Toto to return from his meeting you were increasingly anxious as the twenty-minute meeting dragged on for an hour, and then another. You had almost given up waiting and returned to the hotel when your phone buzzed.

Sorry we took a while, could you please come and join us? X

Surprised that Toto was inviting you to join, you hurriedly typed a reply and made your way towards your paddock neighbours.

Entering the Red Bull hospitality area you could feel the unfriendly looks directed towards you, you were in enemy territory and they made sure you knew it. Approaching the coffee station, you hedged your bets that their catering staff might be somewhat friendly.

“Hi,” you said with a smile at the girl behind the counter.

“Oh hi, can I help you?” she said, a funny look on her face.

“Yes, I’m here to meet Christian Horner, where might I find him?” you asked, trying to stay polite.

She frowned, “But you’re from Mercedes, no?”

“Yes, he’s asked to see us, he’s currently in a meeting with my boyf… colleague and asked for me to join.” You couldn’t believe the timing of your slip-up, so much for not mixing business and pleasure.

“Oh, so you’re the one Toto Wolff is sleeping with!” she exclaimed rudely. “He’s just upstairs, first door on the right.”

Ruffled by her words, you decided to not dignify her with a response and made a beeline for the stairs before anybody else could add their witty remarks.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the first door on the right, apprehensive about what you were walking into.

“Come in.” said a voice you recognised as Christian Horner.

Opening the door, you were surprised to see the two sworn enemies sitting opposite one another in armchairs, beers on the coffee table in front of them.

“Y/N, thank you for joining us, have a seat!” said Christian, standing up to greet you with a warm smile and a handshake before gesturing at the armchair beside Toto, “Can I get you a beer?”

“That’s okay, thank you,” you said, eyeing up Toto curiously. “Hey boss.”

“Hi,” he said somewhat awkwardly.

“You two lovebirds get a room…” said Christian, chuckling as he settled back down across from you, before noticing your thunderous glare and quickly adding, “Relax, I’m kidding.”

“So what do I owe this pleasure?” you asked.

Christian shifted slightly, “So I have been telling Toto all of this but wanted to talk to you as well. I wanted to apologise for the pain my subordinate has caused you, it’s not okay and I know that I like to rile up Toto every now and then but this season I took it too far, made it too personal and wanted to say sorry to you both.”

Your eyes widened, this is certainly not what you had expected. Christian Horner apologising was like hell freezing over. “Wow, well there’s a lot to unpack there,” you said.

“I know, that’s why we have the beers.” said Christian, “Firstly, I want you to know that I have sacked the member of staff who worked with Toto’s EA on the smear campaign. I am ashamed that someone under my leadership would sink so low and rest assured we will support you in any investigation or impending court case.”

Stunned into silence, you turned to Toto, “Is this true?”

“Yes,” he replied, “We’ve been discussing the finer details but I believe Christian when he says he didn’t know what was going on.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Christian continued, “Look, our car coupled with Max is good. We don’t need to resort to dirty tricks to make you guys look bad. We can do it on track.”

“There’s the Christian we know and love,” you said with a smile, making the two men chuckle.

“I have given Toto the member of staff in question’s laptop and phone plus passwords to aid any investigation.” he replied proudly, “I also want to say sorry for my behaviour at last week's press conference. I had no idea someone from my team was perpetuating rumours and I was just messing around. I know you both know about my relationship with Gina and I lashed out after Toto threatened me.”

“Apology accepted,” interjected Toto.

You were in shock. “Really?” you asked, whipping your head around towards your beau.

“Yes, life’s too short.” said Toto, “We have a plan. And this is why I wanted you here.”

“I’m all ears,” you said.

“We know this will not stay quiet, you of all people know what the paddock is like. So we were thinking the best approach is to make a joint statement.” started Christian.

“Saying what?” you interjected sharply.

“Detailing everything that happened, it’s a juicy story, the press will love it,” he replied.

“And you agreed to this?” you asked Toto.

“I’d rather people know the truth,” he said with a sigh.

“What do you need me for then?” you asked.

“Toto said you’d know how to handle this,” said Christian expectantly.

“Well, this is not how I’d go about this but if it’s what you want to do, let’s go for it,” you said.

“What would you do?” asked Toto.

“Let it blow over, forget it ever happened, this clears Christian’s name more than it does yours,” you said.

“Yes, but I also want to rise above it, and put an end to this silly rivalry,” said Toto.

“Then let’s do it,” you said, with a smile.

– – – 

Having spent far more time than intended in the Red Bull motorhome, you emerged in the paddock under the cloak of darkness. Probably for the best as the moment team rivals were seen liaising, the rumour mill always went whirring.

“That was interesting,” you said to Toto, diving next door to collect your bags.

“I was surprised.” mused Toto, holding the door open for you.

“I think he was scared you might retaliate,” you said as you made your way up the stairs to your office.

“I agree,” said Toto, following you into your office.

“Do you not need to get your stuff?” you asked.

“Yes, but first I wanted to do this,” he said, taking a step forward to cup your face with his large hands and catch your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss.

“Toto,” you started before he promptly followed up with a second, equally searing kiss.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Toto said, shifting his weight nervously.

“What’s wrong Toto?” you said, concerned by what he was about to say.

“Nothing is wrong. I just need to get this off my chest. Look, I’m old, and before you say anything, yes I am. I am too old to be running around the world like this.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going…” you said.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I’ve achieved everything I ever dreamed of… and more… and it’s time for someone else’s turn. One more year and I’d like to retire, stay as an investor, maybe even an advisor, but less hands-on.”

You were stunned, “So one more year, then retirement?”

“I understand if it means you don’t want to tie yourself down to an old man,” Toto said sadly.

“What planet are you on?” you said, looking him dead in the eyes, “Of course I want to be with you, whatever you do.”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “That makes me very happy. I have thought a lot about this and maybe it’s a good thing, if you wanted… actually, never mind.”

“What would I want?” you asked, curious where this was going.

All of a sudden Toto began to blush. “Forget it, we can talk again when we get there.”

“Okay,” you said, rolling your eyes. Sometimes Toto could be infuriating.

SATURDAY AM

You woke up early on Saturday morning, once again before Toto. Stretching, you made your way out to the balcony to get some fresh air. Thankfully the waves of nausea had seemingly stopped and you were feeling much better. You knew you had to tell Toto sooner rather than later but were not sure how to even broach the subject.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a phone ringing from inside the room and you dashed to pick it up before Toto woke up. 

Seeing the caller ID, you picked up, keeping your voice low, “Hey Rosie, how’s it going?”

“I’m okay thanks, just wanted to check in on you. Did you manage to speak to Toto?” she asked.

Checking he was still sound asleep, you settled on the sofa in the sitting area of the room, “No, not yet, I think it’s best to wait until Monday, once the season is done and dusted. He doesn’t need any more stress.”

“Yeah you’re right.” said Rosie, “As long as you are okay though. Have you thought any more about what you want to do?”

You sighed, “As amazing as it would be, realistically, travelling around the world in such a demanding job with a baby is totally unrealistic.”

“True.” replied Rosie, “But what would Toto say?”

“Of course he’s a stand-up guy but he’s busy with the races, do you really think he’ll want to be dealing with a newborn baby on race weekends?” you replied, looking up to see a shocked-looking Toto sat up in bed. “Is it okay if I call you back Rosie?”

“Sure, and don’t stress!” she said.

As you gingerly ended the call you could barely look Toto in the eye, “How much of that conversation did you hear?”

“Enough to understand.” he said, a serious look on his face, “What is she going to do?”

“What do you mean she?” you asked.

“Rosie, she’s pregnant, no?” he said, getting up out of bed to join you on the sofa.

“Fuck.” you said, “I didn’t want you to find out this way but it’s not Rosie, it’s me. I’m pregnant Toto.”

The blood drained out of Toto’s face as he computed what you had just told him. “With me?”

“No, with Christian. What do you think?” you said, looking at him exasperatedly, “It was that one time in France, we weren’t careful and work got so busy, I never got the pill. I’m so sorry Toto.” 

Toto rubbed his hands through his hair in exasperation as he processed the news, “This is a lot.”

“I know, that's why I was waiting to tell you until after this weekend,” you said, putting your arm around his wide shoulders. “I know it's a lot to take in, If you want we can talk about it on Monday, what we’re going to do.”

“Well, what do you want?” asked Toto, still looking shaken.

“I don’t know honestly. I love you but this is so new. I hope one day to have children but I’m not sure. How would we juggle this with a baby?“ you said with a sigh.

Toto suddenly looked more animated, “You want to have children?”

You sighed, staring into your lap, “Yes Toto, and I know we’ve never talked about it. I’ve been too scared. I know you already have been there, done that and probably don’t want to do it again.”

Toto stared at you intensely before answering, “What would make you think that? I love my children and I always regretted not having more.”

Your mouth gaped open, was he really saying he wanted more children? “But what about us? This is new, is it not too soon?”

“Y/N, we’ve known each other for some time now. Yes we haven’t been romantically involved for a long time but I know you well enough to know how much I admire you as a woman, as a human.” said Toto, suddenly taking your hand in his, “I don’t want to rush you as I know you have your career but one day I would like to have children with you.”

“I feel the same way, Toto,” you said firmly, turning to face him, “Are we seriously doing this?”

Toto’s eyes lit up, “Only if you want to?”

“Of course I want to!” you said, grinning.

“Then let’s do this.” said Toto, looking happier than he had done in months before he turned to you and planted a kiss squarely on your lips before reaching out to rest his palm on your stomach, “I can’t believe it, we’re going to have a baby.”

“The one time we weren’t careful!” you said with a dry smile, placing your hand on Toto’s. Although it wasn’t ideal timing, you did feel lucky.

“Well, I am efficient in all my work,” said Toto with a dry grin.

You playfully slapped his chest, “You are such a nerd.”

“And now you’re carrying my child.” said Toto smugly, “You love nerds.”

“I do love nerds.” you said, “Big, old, Austrian nerds.”

“Not too old!” said Toto, still looking pleased with himself. “You’ve made me the happiest man in all of Abu Dhabi.”

Unable to stop smiling, you looked at him fondly, “You’ve made me happy too. I know we have a lot to talk about and work out but let’s just enjoy this weekend and we can figure things out on Monday?”

“We can talk now, we have some time.” said Toto, a serious air suddenly about him, “Logically, it makes sense for you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widened, “You want me to move in with you?”

“Of course,” said Toto, “If we are doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

You smiled, reaching up to kiss his cheek, “Let’s do it then.”

“I know this is the future but do you remember what I told you last night?” asked Toto.

“That you want to retire after next year?” you asked, unsure of where he was going with this.

“Yes,” he said, “I was going to suggest that if children were in our future, I could be a stay-at-home Dad if you wanted to return to work. I’ve had my time, it’s time for yours.” he looked down before adding shyly,  “Only if you want of course.”

Shocked by this admission, you took a moment to find the words, “You’d already thought about kids?”

“Do you remember when Bono brought his children into the garage back in Silverstone?” Toto asked.

“Yes, why?” you said.

“I saw how you were with them and thought you’d make an excellent mother. Then my mind wandered, and I started to think about what if we had children together.” Toto looked slightly embarrassed by his admission.

“That’s what you were going to say? Jesus Toto. I thought you were going to break up with me.” you said, having been confused by his tone the previous night.

“No, quite the opposite actually,” he said, his cheeks reddening. “Maybe this is a sign.”

You looked at him puzzled, “A sign for what?”

“Let’s wait and see,” he said with a wink, 

SATURDAY PM

Now at the trackside motorhome, nervously watching the last quali of the season you took a moment to reflect on the conversation you’d had with Toto that morning. You’d been reticent to tell him your news but now that it was out in the open you felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders. You never could have dreamt how well Toto took the news and the fact that he had been considering the prospect of a future with you filled you with good vibes.

A knock on your office door interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Come in,” you called out before the door opened to reveal Rosie.

“Hey Y/N, is now a good time?” she asked, pausing in the doorframe.

“Of course,” you said, smiling widely. You hadn’t had time to catch up with Rosie since telling Toto and you were once again glad you had a confident.

Closing the door behind her, Rosie took a seat on the small sofa across from your desk. “Was everything okay this morning?”

“Yes,” you said, “But Toto overheard our conversation…”

Rosie went white. “Fuck, and what did he say?”

You chuckled, “Well first of all he thought it was you and George and threatened to come and sort George out.”

Rosie giggled nervously, “Of course he did. Did you tell him it was you?”

“Yes,” you said with a smile, “And he’s happy.”

Rosie’s face finally dropped into a wide grin, “I knew he would be! I’m so happy for you both!”

“Thank you.” you said, “Obviously we’re keeping it quiet for now as it is still early days.”

“Of course.” she said, “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

“No,” you said, “We can find out at the next scan or we can have a surprise.”

“Ooh.” she said, “What are you thinking?”

“Not sure yet, I kind of like the idea of a surprise,” you said with a small grin. “Toto already has one of each so either way we’ll be happy.”

“Aw this baby is going to be beautiful.” said Rosie, “I’m so excited.”

“Well I hope they get Toto’s height.” you said, “Especially if he’s a little boy!”

“I think it’s a girl,” said Rosie, crossing her arms confidently.

“Do you?” you said, “I think it’s a boy.”

“Interesting.” she replied, raising her eyebrow, “I’m normally good at guessing and I just think you look more like you’re having a girl.”

“Scientific.” you said with a laugh, flicking your eyes back to the screen where you were watching quali, “We’d better get down to the garage, Q2 is getting underway.”

– – – 

Standing in the garage, headphones on, eyes locked on the small screen with a plethora of graphs and data, you glanced at Toto out of the corner of your eye. He hadn’t stopped smiling all day and quali was adding to his good mood. Lewis and George had both made it through to Q3 and Mercedes was on track for a front-row lockout as long as Max Verstappen didn’t put in a last-minute unbeatable time. 

As the clock ticked down, you dared hope that he wouldn’t, but in typical Max style, the Dutch driver managed to find almost a second where no one else could and pipped Lewis to the post for P1. Applauding your team’s efforts, you looked at Toto who was beside you, continuing to grin. Noticing you looking, he stretched an arm out towards you, scooping you towards him for a celebratory half-hug before remembering that cameras were everywhere and then doing the same to a less enthusiastic Bono.

“P2 and P3, we are on for a podium tomorrow,” he said clapping his hands together as he addressed the team, “Well done everyone and thank you. One last push.”

SUNDAY AM

Waking up bright and early, the sun flaring through the curtains you couldn’t believe it was the last race of the season. Toto’s arms were wrapped around you protectively and knowing that he had a vice-like grip while sleeping, you had no choice but to snuggle in further. As your alarm sounded you felt Toto stir, clutching you ever closer.

“Good morning,” he said groggily as he pressed a kiss to your temple before stretching his long arm across you to turn off the alarm.

“Morning,” you said, smiling at his sleep-rumpled hair.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said, half asleep, one eye still closed.

“No reason,” you said, kissing his neck in the spot you knew he loved.

“I don’t trust you,” he said smirking, before reaching his free arm around to caress your stomach. “I still can’t believe it.”

“Me neither.” you sighed, “Not what I thought would happen when I first met you.”

Toto quirked an eyebrow, “What did you think would happen?”

“When you walked in on me changing…hmm let me think, that you were some old perv?” you replied teasingly.

Blushing slightly, Toto chuckled, “Not my finest hour admittedly. But I still managed to woo you, now look at us.”

You laughed, “Yep, irresistible charm.”

“I knew it.” replied Toto with a smile, “As soon as I saw you I thought to myself, she’s the one.”

“And all it took was a seethrough bra?” you said laughing.

“I actually thought you had lovely eyes,” said Toto, deadpan before bursting into laughter and squeezing your hip.

“Sure sure,” you said, cuddling up. “Toto?”

“Yes,” he said burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Logically speaking, what are we going to do?”

“What do you mean?” he replied, muffled against your hair.

“Realistically I am going to be out of action for a bit. It’s not ideal timing. I’ll have to stop working halfway through next season.”

“Shhh.” said Toto, rocking his hips gently into you, “We’ll plan on Monday. For now, let me enjoy this moment.”

Slightly worried at Toto’s uncharacteristic laissez-faire attitude, you shrugged, “Sure, but don’t moan at me when I’m giving birth in the paddock.”

Toto laughed, “You’re so dramatic!”

“Says you!” you laughed.

“I didn’t think about the timing.” said Toto, pausing before adding, “We will work it out. Don’t worry, trust me”

“Trusting you is what got me into this mess Mr Wolff,” you said playfully.

“It takes two to tango,” replied Toto, hugging you tighter, his large hand still palming your stomach gently, “Right, we need to get out of bed, but I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” you said, burying yourself further under the covers.

Kissing you once more on the forehead, Toto eased to sitting up before extracting himself from the tangled mess and making his way over the background. “Team orders, get out of bed.”

Laughing, you resurfaced, “Just one of the many perks of sleeping with the boss.”

Toto peered around the door and quirked an eyebrow, “You weren’t complaining last night.”

Rolling your eyes you sat up, “Toto…”

Looking mischievous he retorted, “You know I was thinking, since it’s the last race of the season, would you like to make a bet?”

Folding your arms, you replied, “Depends what the wager is.”

“If Lewis wins, I get to name the baby.”

“So if George wins, I get to pick huh?” you asked, not sure where this was going.

“Exactly. I have some great ideas already,” said Toto, still hanging around the doorframe.

“And what might those be?” you asked.

“Paul. After Paul Ricard,” he said, hardly able to contain his giggles.

“You are such an idiot,” you said, getting up out of bed gingerly, making your way towards him.

“It makes sense, hear me out. It’s where it all started,” he said, grabbing your hip and pulling you in close.

“Absolutely not. What if she’s a girl?”

“Paula,” he said flatly before bursting out laughing. “Okay, how about this, Niki?”

Shaking your head you kissed Toto on the cheek before breaking his grip to make your way into the bathroom and get ready for the day.

SUNDAY PM

Halfway through the race disaster had struck in your rival’s camp. Red Bull had had issues undoing one of Max Verstappen’s wheels, leaving them with an abnormally long pitstop. It didn’t give Mercedes a huge edge but fortunately, he was released into grid traffic and it was enough to halt his return to the front of the grid. It was now Lap 56 of 58 and Lewis was in the lead, George not far behind.

The Mercedes garage was silent, knowing that the team had a real last-minute chance of snatching back the Constructors Championship, something that had narrowly evaded you all season. You could hardly breathe as the lap count went down. 57, 58, Max Verstappen struggling to make it back up the field. 

After what felt like an eternity, the chequered flag was being waved. Lewis was P1 and George P2. The garage erupted into cheers, Toto grabbing you suddenly and kissing you as if his life depended on it, oblivious to the hundreds of cameras trained on him.

Breaking the kiss, you could feel eyes on you. Blushing, you saw the team around you looking half horrified, half amused by the sudden public display of affection.

Leaning in to hug Bono, he had a twinkle in his eye, quipping “He better not try that with me.”

Laughing you hugged him tightly, before retorting “Oh, I’ll be having words with him later, don’t worry.”

Surrounded by your colleagues you lost track of the amount of people you hugged and kissed in celebration, all the while beaming at your increasingly animated beau. Toto was an emotional man and you could read him better than anyone else. You knew the Constructors Trophy meant the world to him and you hoped that he’d let loose later that evening.

LATER THAT EVENING

Sat at a low table, surrounded by your close colleagues you couldn’t help but laugh at your thought train earlier. Toto had proceeded to let loose and then some, crowd surfing, drenching himself and everyone around him in champagne before belting out increasingly horrendous renditions of songs he barely knew the words to. 

Smiling and glancing over to Toto lighting up the dancefloor, you sipped contently on your lemon water. It had been a truly wild ride of a year, with some serious ups and serious downs. One thing for certain was that you had fallen well and truly for the man before you.

Beside you, Rosie was looking less fondly at her other half. “What is wrong with him?” she said, gesturing across at George who was separate from the crowd and spinning around with his arms outstretched, not a care in the world.

“Aw, let him be,” said Bella, “He looks happy.”

“I suppose.” said Rosie, sighing, “I can’t believe even Toto is so far gone.”

“I can believe.” you said, laughing, “It’s been a tough year, he needed this.”

“Well it can’t have been easy for you either, I’m surprised you’re not dancing up there with him,” said Bella.

Rosie shot you a knowing glance, well aware that she was the only person besides Toto who knew the reason why you weren’t celebrating with drinks.

“Ah, no, I can’t do it in this heat,” you said, hoping she’d buy it.

“I know what you mean…” said Bella, fortunately not questioning you any further as a very drunk Lewis Hamilton came sidling up to your table.

“Y/N, come dance!” he said, holding out a hand as an invite.

“I’m not sure I’m very good!” you protested with a sigh.

“C’mon,” he said, “Toto is missing you.”

Shaking your head you eased up from the low sofa, making sure to conceal your very slight bump with a well-placed arm.

Grabbing Lewis’ hand, you followed him through the throng of merry Mercedes team members to the centre of the dancefloor.

As you bumped along to the music, allowing Lewis to spin you around, you caught Toto out of the corner of your eye. He shot you a smile before mouthing “Are you feeling okay?”

You felt a rush of affection for him as even in his inebriated state he wanted to take care of you. Mouthing back “All good,” you continued to dance with Lewis, content to bop along.

“So. Can I be Godfather?” asked Lewis, sidling up to you and whispering in your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the pumping music.

Your eyes widened, he clearly wasn’t as drunk as you’d surmised, “How did you know?”

“You’re not drinking, Toto kept putting his hand on your stomach earlier and he keeps looking over to check on you every five seconds.” said Lewis, “And that doesn’t answer my question.”

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you said. “And maybe. If you’re nice to me, and to Toto!”

Crinkling his eyes in a smile, Lewis scooped you into a bear hug, “I’m so happy for you both. This is beautiful man.”

EPILOGUE - TWO YEARS LATER

And beautiful it was. Having wrapped the eventful season your relationship with Toto had gone from strength to strength as you prepared for the birth of your baby. You’d met Toto’s family, including his children, something you had been incredibly nervous about. Fortunately, they had welcomed you with open arms and were eager to meet their new baby brother or sister. 

In turn, Toto had met your family, and although apprehensive at first due to the age gap, it hadn’t taken long for him to win them over. Although life hadn’t exactly gone as you’d planned, everything had quickly fallen into place.

Two years on from that fateful season you were living in Monaco with Toto and your toddler daughter, Sunny. The baby name debate had raged on but eventually, you’d settled on the unusual moniker, chosen as a nod to the city where you’d first met, Miami. 

Time had well and truly flown by and some days you could hardly believe it. You continued to work with the team, in your role that you now shared with Rosie, meaning that you only travelled to half the races. Toto had also taken a step back, passing over some of his Team Principal duties to Senior members of the team, allowing him to focus on the business side of things. 

As promised to the board on those fateful calls where you had to fight for your job, you’d brought on more ethical sponsors, brought more money and all-in-all improved the team for the better. Robert still continued to grumble but was always quickly silenced by numbers and statistics.

Your latest project was planning a farewell to the man who everyone knew would be going down in history as the greatest of all time. Lewis. Not an easy feat, he had fortunately entrusted you with his intent to retire before anyone else so you’d had plenty of time to plan. Over the years he had become a close friend and you wanted to do him justice. Now a nine-time WDC, Lewis was retiring to start a family of his own, something you knew he would excel at. True to your word, you and Toto had asked him to be Sunny’s Godfather, a task that he relished.

Rosie and George had also taken their relationship to the next level, getting engaged and due to marry the following year, it was heartwarming to know that another couple had found love in the paddock. Controversially, you and Toto had not yet tied the knot, purely down to the fact that you hadn’t had time. Toto had proposed not long before Sunny’s birth, getting down on one knee with one of the most dazzling diamond rings you had ever seen.

Snapping back to the present, you shook yourself out of your thoughts as you saw Toto coming into the room, Sunny under his arm babbling.

“How about at the end of August?” Toto asked.

“For what?” you asked, not sure what he was talking about.

“For the wedding,” he said, plopping down on the sofa beside you, seating Sunny on his lap.

“Mama!” the curly-haired toddler called out, stretching her tiny arms towards you. You knew you were biased but she was one of the cutest children you’d ever seen. Chocolate button eyes and dark brown curls, she was blessed with her Father’s dimples and your olive complexion, a lethal combination.

“Here mi amor,” you said, scooching her across for a snuggle, before nodding “August could work. But there is one issue”

Toto looked concerned, “What’s wrong?”

You broke into a wide smile, “I’m pregnant Toto.”

Toto’s brown eyes widened, “Again? Already?”

You laughed, Sunny giggling along with you, “Yep. Old man strikes again.”

Toto smiled, leaning across and putting his arm around you, “How did I get so lucky?”

“Papa!” said Sunny, this time reaching up for her Dad.

“Ooh, I think she wants her Daddy again.” you said, “It kills me that you’re her favourite.”

Taking the tiny girl in his arms, Toto smiled, “I don’t think so somehow.”

“I know so,” you said, looking at how your daughter gazed adoringly at Toto, their brown eyes identical. Glowing with pride at your beautiful family you patted your stomach tenderly, impatient to meet the new addition.

Sharing your thoughts, Toto beamed at you, “Do you remember the bet we made in Abu Dhabi two years ago?”

“Huh?” you said, not remembering.

“We agreed that if Lewis won the race, I could name the baby Paul or Niki,” he said with a grin, playing with the bouncing toddler on his lap.

“I do not remember this.” you said, “Was I asleep?”

“No, wide awake.” he said laughing, “Lewis won though and I want to know if I can cash my reward in on this one.”

“You are ridiculous,” you said with a fond smile, “I’ll think about it.”

“You know you love it.” he said, kissing you gently, “So maybe a Winter wedding then?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, your heart full of love.

#formula one x reader #toto wolff fanfic #f1 x reader

[kessellluvr]

NSFW- Lavender - softdom!Lottie x f!reader

just lottie comforting you and showing you how much she appreciates you..

"Are you feeling better yet?" lottie asked softly as she stepped into your room - you had recently joined her to help her out with camp green pine, youve known eachother since a few months. You nodded at her question "Yeah.. alot better." you told her, rubbing your eyes and looking up at her with that soft smile that always got her melting.

"Im glad.." lottie said softly, nervously picking at her lower lip with her teeth - you could tell something was on her mind. "Whats on your mind, lot?" you aksed her, tilting your head to the side questioningly. Lottie didnt give you an answer - she went to sit next to you on the bed, her soothing hand softly caressing your cheek before she carefully pulled you in for a kiss. Your eyes widened at first - not expecting that, but you quickly regained your posture and returned the kiss while closing your eyes. You could taste strawberries on her lips - most likely from her morning smoothie. Your nosetrils filled with the scent of her sweet lavender perfume, making you feel a little dizzy.

As Lottie pulled back to get some air, she couldnt help but grin slightly. "Wow.." you murmed with a chuckle, lottie`s hand was placed on your waist and you could feel her tugging your shirt out of your pants - raising your brow slightly your gaze flew down to her hand, which was now going behind to your back to reach out and undo your bra. "You dont mind, do you?" lottie asked - you shook your head and she continued, carefully lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it aside. She went to tug off the strands of your bra, having it follow your shirt to the floor.

"Youre so beautiful." lottie murmed into your ear, her lips brushing your neck before connecting - placing a hot kiss on there and adding a few more. As her mouth was busy with your neck, her hand went to cup one of your soft, perky breasts, slowly squeezing it and a soft moan slipped through your lips, causing her to grin. Lottie pushed you back onto the bed, straddling your hips and leaning down to have your lips connect with hers once more. Her hand tugged the waistband of your sweatpants and she pulled them down.

Lottie`s finger trailed over your panties, she bit her bottom lip. "Awh.. so wet for me." she teased your before slipping her hand into your panties - her finger meeting your swollen clit as she slowly trailed soft circles around it. As lottie teased you, you couldnt help but whimper, your legs twiching slightly. Lottie was still grinning down at you, she pulled her hand out and slid down your panties to your ankles, where they met your sweatpants. Lottie kneeled between your legs and lifted them over her shoulders, taking your clit between her lips and softly sucking it while pushing a finger into your dripping wet cunt, curling it upward and hitting just the right spots - causing you to writhe and moan.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" lottie asked before continuing sucking your pulsing clit. You whimpered and moaned for her.. trying to form a sentence "Y-yes.." you managed to stutter out, you could feel her grin against your cunt and you exploded - feeling waves of pleausure crashing over you. Your legs were shaky, lottie eating you out throughout your orgasm.

After you had come down from your high, she pulled away from you - smirking as she brought her fingers to your lips. "Open up." she demanded - you complied, letting her fingers push into your mouth, making you taste your own cum. She grinned widely "Good girl." lottie praised before pulling them out and standing back up, straightening out her blue kaftan and walking towards the door. "Ill see you later tonight.. after our ritual."

--

Authors Note: i trieddd!! its my first fic in like three years and im non-english so dont mind some typos.. anyway hope u enjoyed x

#lottie mathews x reader #lottie matthews smut #lottie matthews #lottie yellowjackets #yellowjackets

[mx-lamour]

Costuming Strahd: Art Addendum

I didn't include any mention of the official Dungeons & Dragons art for Strahd von Zarovich in my previous post, because I had dismissed it outright. There, I said it.

I shall strive to amend my folly in this addendum.

Let's start with that 5e cover:

I generally approve of this representation. No doubt it colored my concept of Strahd's silhouette, since this is the first image of Strahd I came into contact with, some two or three years ago.

The shape of this garb is much like what I was aiming for in my previous post. Strahd is sporting a crisp shirt with stiffened, buttoned cuffs, much like our modern button-downs or blouses spanning back into the mid-1800s. His torso is trim in a fitted vest with standing collar, which easily fits into the category of fantasy-Renaissance. Speculation on from where/when exactly the inspiration comes might be a futile effort; it would find itself at home among the elves in The Lord of the Rings, and I'm not about to dig into that concept work just now.

Actually, what his vest reminds me of most is 15th century brigandine [or tabard (see below), which would cover brigandine or a breastplate, which is why] it's the right length, if nothing else.

Reconstructing History, He's literally Elrond, and some brigandine

I believe I said it's easy to fake good pants, especially when sitting down. This example reinforces my point. His legs are indeed covered, and the result is not garish. Not particularly exciting, but nonetheless successful. You could probably even call them hose if you really wanted to.

His boots are literal extant riding boots, from "early 20th c." England, and honestly I'm so proud of this one-to-one reference.

[Fig. 1] and [Fig. 2], although my first thought had been Victorian cycling boots.

The cape draped around his shoulders appears to be quite thin and probably only falls to about his fingertips, since it doesn't drape over the chair cushion and he's not sitting on it. It could look like some kind of military cape. Or maybe even, to drag him back a few centuries again, something Elizabethan.

I'll do a whole thing on capes later.

Moving on...

Early Strahd von Zarovich was definitely Dracula by another name, but later art has been pretty consistently (from what I can see) this other red/blue outfit, with baffling ruby clasps instead of a single pendant around his neck.

That last one has me. To be fair, it's the only one gazing back at the observer... >.>

Look. This garb is sexy. It cannot be understated. While it's not what I'm going for in my own costume foray, this is a fantastic design. Here's why:

The line where blue meets red along his ribcage accentuates his chest. That same red draws the eye down over his crotch, subtly curving to accomodate his thighs. Those chains on his cloak and the sash around his waist are positively drippy, like the source of the Ivlis pouring down to the Tser Pool. The asymmetry of that and his mismatched shoulders gives him such a dynamic slant, something to visually climb back up like handholds on the face of a cliff. And the sash is supple, in direct contrast to his armored hips, solid and stalwart. His limbs are clad in slim nondescript brown, making it all the easier to focus in on his center, in high contrast dotted with solid rubies. The red and blue both, especially together, are blood colors, indicative of veins hidden beneath the skin.

He might be covered from toe to jaw, but this is an intimate costume.

Despite my appreciation for it, though, again, I personally am trying to make something a little less Lord of the Rings. For reasons.

So, let's see what I can come up with in terms of historical inspiration... if anything, lol.

This is going to be fairly stream-of-consciousness. (Not that it wasn't already, I suppose.)

The first thing that came to mind was a kaftan (or zupan?), because they can be fitted through the torso and feature a standing collar and embellished closures up the front. But, kaftans from Russia, the Ottoman Empire, and other areas touched by those cultures usually also have sleeves. I finally found the two illustrations below without sleeves, but they were difficult to track down and I'm not sure how much of what they depict is imaginary. (Although the sword, pouch, and helmet from the first one are definitely from an extant burial site.)

There's also the Polish kontusz, where the arms can be worn out of the sleeves, with the sleeves flipped back, and that can give the illusion of sleevelessness... A lot of examples I found of this particular garment are also open to the waist, which is delightfully provocative, but doesn't resemble the Strahd ensemble.

Examples from Chernigov (Ukraine) and apparently Moldova; a Polish kontusz

I can think of little source material for that long, pointed fantasy hemline, but allow me to grasp at some straws.

The straws in question.

Actually, this brings up a really good point of inquiry. Where does this drapery-between-the-legs situation that modern fantasy seems to be so enamoured with come from?

Tabards would seem the obious answer, but even that, in modern parlance, is used as an umbrella term for a wide range of garments that may or may not have any true basis in reality.

There's also just... loin cloths, I suppose, which can look like a piece of fabric just draped over the crotch and hanging between the legs, but there's usually more to it than that.

At last, after some digging around, I came across the video below. Bless Shad for his contribution to society.

It goes over all the the differences between those various styles of garment usually bearing symbols of allegiance all lumped together as "tabards", and presented me one more vocabulary word with which I was not yet familiar: the scapular.

Alas, monastic garb is my blind spot. Silly that I've played at least five clerics so far.

To summarize, I think the that the shape of the lower part of Strahd's... whatever-it-is... is inspired by a mix of these garments described in the video. It's short like a tabard should be, and has that dip between the legs reminiscent of a scapular.

But, ultimately, this thing is a waistcoat. Not a waistcoat in the Victorian sense; a waistcoat in the mid-18th century sense.

Monk wearing a scapular, and some fancy waistcoats.

Finally, the very-high standing collar on Strahd's waistcoat smacks of a couple things: Russia (again), or the Regency era. Although, in the Regency years, waistcoats became much shorter (ending at the waist) and lengthened up the other way with high standing collars. But, if you were to combine the two waistcoats above and throw in some suggestive high-hip cutouts like a 1980's leotard, you might come out with something that resembles what Strahd is wearing in all that sumtuous art.

The one with the sash really drives the comparison home.

With the initial kaftan comparison and this guy with the funny hair (a Count Vasili, coincidentally) above, Strahd von Zarovich's red/blue fantasy garb is also giving the Motherland, and folks, I already said that I was trying to keep blatant Russia out of Barovia (as much as that garb clearly slaps). But I also recently remembered due to this post that I am a total sucker for Russian pet names, so... who knows.

In the end... do I know what I'm doing? Absolutely not. I'm not sure which of these elements will filter into further consideration for my own Strahd von Zarovich costume, but I'm definitely glad I gave all this a look. Absolutely worth it. Learned a lot. ♡

#costume things #costuming barovia #strahd von zarovich #costume design #fashion history #costume history #curse of strahd #lamour dms cos #art analysis #art appreciation #ravenloft

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

-1- The Cursed Prince

Wakanda, 1919

Julip looked up at a sparse ceiling of unknown and unique trees as he hiked with a sense of impending dread. Every time a spindly branch snatched him by the shirt or a prickly vine wrapped his ankle, he hacked wildly with his machete until it let him go. These vines were rumored to rip unsuspecting creatures in half so that carniverous trees could soak up the blood as nutrients.

"I've entertained this long enough. Come back now."

All the sense in Julip's mind told him to turn back and go home. He hadn't wanted to venture so deep, but he couldn't let his big sister, Deanna, explore alone. The danger was too high.

Separated by two years, him being 19 and her being 21, they'd been close ever since they were children. Then they grew old enough to hear the legends about the ancient cursed king, the monsterous prince, and the lost castle. There was no proof aside from disappearances that anyone other than the king existed. The king was definitely real, but the curse? Ridiculous. Deanna became fascinated with the stories nonetheless.

"What's wrong, Julip? Are you afraid I'll be taken away forever," Deanna teased, looking back. Julip scoffed.

"The prince turns beautiful women. Your face would only get us eaten."

Since they were 12, finding the lost castle's treasure was Deanna's biggest fantasy. She hoped it was real and waiting for someone brave to claim it, even if she didn't truly believe. Julip wished she'd forget about her obsession, but she was determined to investigate no matter the danger. She loved to wander, and she loved the forest.

To him, the existence of demons and the like in the Wakandan Rainforest was as believable as mermaids. The real danger was in the toxins, animals, terrain, and criminals lurking. It was enough.

Deanna forged ahead, ignoring reddening welts and thin cuts collecting on her legs from sharp thorns and swinging her scythe through tangles of vines.

"We should turn around." Julip had just spotted a brightly colored orange and black tarantula larger than his head feasting on what looked like a chipmunk. "Deanna, we are pushing our luck here." He panicked as a line of green birds flew at and over his head one after another flapping on his forehead. He hated birds. "Ugh!Please! Let's just head back."

Deanna chuckled, having watched her brother duck and hide his face. They were just harmless birds.

"We're too far beyond the border. There's a border for a reason," he called ahead, watching as she leaped. More green birds flew, and his anxiety peaked.

"Julip," Deanna rushed roughly in a hushed tone over her shoulder. She was looking out over the branch she stood behind. There was movement up ahead. She giggled with quiet excitement, moving out the way of a crawling beetle. "Oh, I see something," she squinted. She looked back at her brother once more before taking off.

"Stop! Don't go towards it," he gasped, giving chase.

Deanna ran through the trees, brushing leaves and dipping under branches with her brother breathing heavily on her heels, trying to avoid poison soursop and death nettle. She'd charged recklessly, avoiding none of it.

"Deanna, stop!" Julip panted, running into her back.

"Julip? Where are we? Why did I do that?" She wheezed, confused and bending at the waist to breathe. She panicked when she remained short of breath. "Julip," she pleaded. Her body was itching. Her throat was closing. She clawed madly at her skin, drawing blood and terrifying her brother. Her eyes were wild as if possessed.

He followed her eyes to a high branch above where a tall and muscular man in a crisp white kaftan stood amongst the leaves.

Fearstruck, Julip kept his eyes on the threat but held onto his sister's seizing body, feeling an intense itch transfer. He, too, began to develop red raised rashes on his hand and wrist.

"I'm right here. I'm not leaving you," Julip whispered, but inside, he was afraid. He couldn't help her, and the unknown man was menacing with cold, glowing, ruby eyes. Julip flinched when the man leaped to the ground, landing gracefully and soundlessly on his feet. It was a jump that should've shattered his legs.

"Give her to me."

Julip heard it clearly, though the man's lips did not move. There was no way in hell Julip would ever surrender his sister, yet his arms moved. His body would not obey him to stop.

He will compel you, take control over your mind, and enslave you. He'll drive you to madness. Don't look into his eyes, the legend had said.

Julip stared frozen and helpless as the man cradled his limp sister in his arms and slipped a nail across the prominent vein in his wrist, letting a droplet of his blood fall into Deanna's slightly open mouth. Instantly, her eyes fluttered open. It was a miracle, but Julip was now experiencing her old symptoms, gasping for breath with an itch that made him want to tear off his own skin.

"Would you like to live?" It was telepathic.

Julip pleaded desperately with his eyes as the man wordlessly held Deanna in his arms. The red-eyed man approached him, holding out his wrist, and Julip stuck out his tongue, catching the singular blood droplet. He licked his lips quickly, feeling his life return. He never would've believed it was possible.

"We owe you our lives," he bowed in thanks on behalf of himself and his sister, but when he lifted his head, his stomach sunk.

The red-eyed man's teeth were deep into Deanna's slim neck, coating it, her shirt, and the forest floor in her blood. Julip was trapped within his own body, unable to move, fight, or cry out. All he could do was watch.

The man then dropped his sister like trash and came at him. It wasn't until he lay on the forest floor losing warmth and saw his clothing and hands darkened with his own blood that he realized..

All the legends were true.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer

[kalpanaseth]

Discover Kaftans for Your Stylish Wardrobe!

Elevate Your Style Game with the Season's Hottest Trend: Explore Kaftans for a Chic and Stylish Wardrobe Upgrade! We'll guide you on where to find the best kaftans online. So, let's jump right in!

#kaftan dress #kaftan online #off shoulder kaftan dress #One Shoulder Kaftan #one shoulder kaftan dress #western wear dress #western wear for party #western wear for women #Western Wear Online #Style Junkiie

[sisi-misi123]

This is Nikolai Lantsov x fem reader. Well i stil can't write summary soo

A/n: I don't know but this might be disturbing for someone so I'm putting warnings. But this turned out good. And again sorry if it has mistakes.

Warnings: eati!g d!sord!r, abu!e, t!xic boyfriend, star!ing, se!f ha!m sc!rs

,,As you say moi tsar!"

You sat in the gardens of the Grand Palace and thought about your conversation with Nina earlier. She encouraged you to be yourself and not hide in baggy clothes. This worried you slightly, not that Nina noticed your insecurity about wearing tight clothes, and the fact that she can tell you starve yourself for days just to please your jerk boyfriend. Nina wouldn't be able to understand...for now. Your boyfriend is a duke who is highly respected. He wanted you to be impossibly thin so you wouldn't run away from him and be beautiful enough.

A servant came to you and told you that you should prepare for a meeting with the king of Ravka. You have heard this and that about the scarred Tsar Nikolai Lantsov, but you have never met him. You should be trained in the Little Palace, but your village hid you to help them. However, you fought side by side with the Sun Summoner, and when the battle was over you were to become the betrothed of this hideous duke.

You got up and headed to your room to get ready, but when you tried to put on your kaftan it didn't fit you. Your boyfriend showed up at the door and said you'd have to lose so much weight in order to it's up. You were furious because according to him only sickly thin girls were beautiful and you were far from thin....So you took the kaftan and threw it on him and dumped him. However, he got angry and hit you so hard , that you saw stars. You hit him on the head with your hairbrush and ran out of the room. After you thought you were far enough away from him you collapsed into a dark corner of one of the hallways. You started crying, it wasn't because you felt guilty about hitting your ex, it was because for so long you were afraid and did not want to save yourself from him. Even now you were scared, so much. Because he could come to his senses at any moment, find you and.....he could do a lot of things. You got up, wiped your tears and plastered a fake smile on your face. As you was just entering the Great Hall, you bumped into someone.

You: I'm so, so sorry!

When you look at his face you realised that this was king Nikolai lantsov. And you bumped into him! That was so embarrassing.

Nikolai: No need to worry, darling!

You: It was so stupid of me, My Highnese!

Nikolai: Just Nikolai please!

Apparently the blow your ex gave you left a wound because the king's eyes widened at the sight of your shoulder and neck. You have bruises and sores all over your body because it wasn't the first time he hit you.

Nikolai: You're hurt!

You: That's nothing...

Nikolai: Who did this to you?!

You: It's not big of a deal.

Nikolai: It is when someone has hit you!

You: My boyfriend dis this, but now he is ex boyfriend.

Nikolai: Where is he?

You: I-i hit him and he is unconscious i think...

Nikolai: Did he hit you first?

You: Y-yes.

Nikolai: Has he hit you any other time?

You: I-i'm afraid i can't tell you that...

Nikolai: Why?

You: If he...if he find out I'm telling you this...he might beat me to...to death....

Nikolai took your hand and took you to the infirmary. Corporalnik trained there you took off the shirt you were wearing and remained in your underwear. You instinctively covered your body with your arms. The king had turned away so as not to disturb you. The healer said your body has so many scars and bruises, that it is unrecognizable. Only then did the king turn and his eyes widened barely perceptibly, but still he could see.

You: I'm sorry, but can i put my shirt back on. It's embarrassing for me to sit half naked in the presence of the king.

The healer: Miss i have to heal you.

You got a little angry: Oh trust me i can bare a little pain. I suffered for two years, it won't matter to me if I suffer this minimal pain!

Nikolai: Why didn't you tell anyone Y/n?

You: How do you know my name?

The healer left the room.

Nikolai: Maybe you've heard of a privateer named Stormhund?

You: Yes, I've worked with him before the civil war-Wait! You?

Nikolai: A tailor made my face unrecognisable.

You: You're lying!

Nikolai: I'm not lying, little rabbit!

That was the nickname Stormhund gave you because you get scared easily... It wasn't possible...or it was?

You: Oh my- I can't believe!

Nikolai: Come here!

You hugged him tightly.

Nikolai: Why did you let some duke starve you and beat you?!

You: I was scared.

Nikolai: Oh my dear! I love you!

You: I love you too!

He kissed you gently.

Nikolai: I'm gonna help you be yourself and to love yourself.

You: As you say, moi tsar!

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov #netflix shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov being kind #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lantsov my beloved #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov just being such a caring friend

[beansprean]

Atlantis AU….. for @fanfic-fugue who asked the very important question what if a vampire fanboy with Van Helsing lineage led an expedition to an ancient lost vampire city no one thinks exists? And also Nandor had his tits out? 😈

(ID in alt and under cut)

1a. Background of an underground Persian palace of cracked stone and tile, overgrown with vines and moss and surrounded by pink silk trees. Closer to the viewer, beyond a plain that is half sand half meadow, is a double waterfall flanked by cracked stone pillars, pouring into a basin covered by a gulley of cypress trees. Closer still is a short set of fallen stairs leading down to a peaceful blue pond with floating lily pads and a massive cracked stone pillar set crooked in the ground. The pillar is coated in vines and algae and has a center ring of round protrusions capped by red gems, some of which are missing. Standing at the top of the ruined stairs are Guillermo and Nandor. Guillermo is dressed like Milo Thatch in an army green tank top, brown breeches, and stockings, a leather bag crossed over his chest and an old book tucked under his arm. He is reaching out towards the pillar with his free hand, smiling in fascination as he remarks, “Wow, this architecture is amazing!” Nandor stands behind him, arms tucked behind his back, and replies “I suppose. It looks like breasts.” Nandor is wearing a version of his usual layered kaftan in light purples and blues, a long dark blue sash with gold patterns draped over his shoulders and tucked into a leather belt at his waist. 1b. Full body drawing of Nandor in the same outfit, showing more detail like brown leather boots, the ancient-looking sword strapped to his belt, and the looser bun holding back his hair. Nandor is standing proud and upright, looking directly at the viewer with one hand on the hilt of his blade.

2a. Close up of Guillermo soaking wet and dripping, his tank top now translucent enough to see his nipples through. He is talking excitedly, almost manic, grinning and gesturing wildly with his hands at someone offscreen. There is a plain gold crucifix around his neck. 2b. Close up of The Guide dressed like Helga Sinclair in a long silk black evening dress, black gloves, ushanka, and fur stole, draped casually in a chair with legs crossed, the fur tucked into her elbows and one strap of the dress slipped down over her shoulder. She lifts one hand in a “what the heck?” gesture and says, “Guillermo de la Cruz… I sent, like, 50 ravens!!”

3a. Full body of Guillermo smiling confidently, holding up an old leather book with a red skull design, titled “Vampyr”. He is wearing a khaki colored sweater, brown breeches, stockings, button boots, and a long faded green coat. He has a leather bag strapped across his chest. 3b. Full body of Nandor stripped down to a tiny wrapped-cloth undergarment, standing with hip cocked flirtatiously, one arm stretched up to rest against the side of the image as he grins teasingly, one eyebrow cocked. He asks casually, “Do you swim?” 3c. Close up of Guillermo pausing in the act of pulling off his own shirt, clutching the hem with both hands at his breast line. He stares openly at Nandor, face tomato-red and shaking mouth struggling to form words, stuttering out, “I-I swim pretty guy- pretty good!!”

4. Nandor and Guillermo floating together underwater, Nandor in his cloth briefs and Guillermo in white boxers. They both have their hands placed on a cracked stone mural depicting an ancient bearded warrior on horseback, wielding a sword much like Nandor’s and a helmet and armor similar to the one his ghost wore in the show. Their hands touch against the stone and they turn to look at each other, Guillermo flushed and spilling bubbles between his lips, Nandor unbreathing with large liquid eyes. Guillermo’s crucifix is floating up in the water, shining bright gold. The entire scene is overlaid with teal and shining water effects, light piercing down at them in rays. /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #atlantis the lost empire #atlantis au #mlm #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #wwdits the guide #what we do in the shadows fx #what we do in the shadows #my art #fanart #image described

[apolloanddaphnis]

Speaking in Tongues

Part VI

Disclaimer: I'm sorry I update this one so much, honestly it's just always in my head and I'm obsessed with Minka's wardrobe. But now I'm like having total writer's block with this one at the moment.

Also not many warnings in this one just allusions to sexual situations, it's an adult story so avert your eyes please if you get offended.

♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡

Minka's POV 

"I have to go home, come on monkey, stop being silly." I chastised the handsome man who was behaving like a child.

He has hidden my clothes and is standing there with his arms folded. He looks so handsome with that stubborn look on his face, blocking the door.

"You're not, not yet, please?" He then made his way over to me and I backed away. "No, no I know that look. Don't seduce me to stay in your castle, beast." Timothée cornered me, his imposing presence looming over me before he pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek then my lips and I whimpered. I was reminded of how good they felt on my neck. 

His hands slipped beneath the borrowed Bauhaus shirt I wore. Feeling the cold metal of his rings on his fingers was arousing. "Chouchou, please…postpone it, I've made dinner reservations for us…" he nuzzled my throat and my heart was racing, my heaving breasts were forcibly pressed against his chest by how close his body was to mine. 

"Where?" I found myself asking. 

"It's a surprise, but I'll have your outfit ready and your favorite bottle of wine too "

"Sparkling Syrah?" Oh he plays dirty. 

"But of course, little moth." He slid his hands up my naked thighs.

"You play dirty, I'll text Stone." 

He smirked and licked where he left his mark on me on my neck. I whined, I lost and knew it. It was his game and he made the rules after all…

…

It was a gown, but hardly. A black, completely sheer, primrose floral velvet, devoted, one shoulder, kaftan dress designed by Tom Ford.  There's a high slit that exposes a generous portion of my thigh. And nothing was underneath except for a black, elegant floral lace, Agent Provocateur thong. My ample breasts were completely exposed to any eye. The heels were Tom Ford' gold padlock ones, and by the same designer there's gold soaked padlock earrings to match. My scent he chose for me was their private blend of Vanille Fatale.  I painted my lips a dark plum and did my eyes with smoky lilac like a flapper. 

I walked out of the bathroom that was more like a dressing room. "Koza, I have no purse-" but I stopped as I looked down to see lavender rose petals making a path to the balcony, spa smelling candles were the only light guiding me and the soft romantic music of Gene Loves Jezebel played from outside. 

"Timothée?" A smile threatened to tickle my lips. I walked out onto the candle lit balcony that had a beautifully dressed handsome Timothée standing by an ornately decorated table. The round table is draped in white cloth, antique candelabras, a vase of lavender and orange roses. A bottle of sparkling red by Rosa Regale in an ice bucket, there was brick oven pizza with prosciutto and arugula.  There were some French and Italian  cheese board goodies too.

"Monkey, what is all of this–" Timothee quickly made his way over to me. He slid an arm around me and his large hand rested on my hip and he kissed my jaw and then my lips, in a way that made me a little empty headed. He rubbed my hip and pulled back a little to look at my body and licked his lips. "Damn." I giggled at his reaction.

"I thought we were gonna go out with my tits out. Such a daring choice.'' I brushed a curl out of his face and fixed the collar of his black blazer. I picked a piece of lint off of his collar, he looks so fucking delicious.  Beneath the crisp blazer was a black, sheer mesh top that provocatively displayed his nipples and he had the black high waist trousers that cinched in so razor sharp. I felt easily seduced and started kissing his neck.  Both of his hands were on my waist and he was holding them in such a tight grip his nails dug through the fabric.

"I'd never let you wall out like this." He raped as I sucked on his incredible smelling neck.

"So possessive already?" I teased in his ear.

His hands slid down to my ample backside. 

"Hell yeah baby," his voice deepened. "I can't taste you and not want to keep you. We fit together so well." He slapped my ass and I whined. "It's like we were made for each other like you were made for me." He ended weakly.

I felt dizzy and deliciously weak, my body pressed against his sweet smelling hard one. He was massaging my ass lazily. "I've gone out in less."

"I know, I've seen you…I was always there watching you." He said quietly. 

I felt my body set on fire, that was creepy in the hottest way. His arousal was pressing against me and I shivered. "Let's try and get through a meal without fucking, monkey." I breathed.

He chuckled and dipped me a bit as he pulled me against him, his laughter brushed against my neck as I wrapped my arms around his neck. "No promises, chouchou."

–

Timothée's POV 

It wasn't until a week later that I allowed her to leave my house. 

The brutal adjustment of leaving our cozy little cocoon was a lot, and not just on me but my little moth as well. As we finished getting dressed she watched me from my bed, the bed we spent seven days in, her big lilac eyes looked so forlorn and her pouty bottom lip trembled in anticipation of a cry. I felt my nose sting with upcoming tears as well, shockingly enough. How quickly we have become so dependent on one another, just to breathe, only to exist.

She's such a beautiful little crier. I had her clothes brought here after the third day, right now to block out the weirdly cold southern Californian autumn, she wore a chic, oversized, black and cream vertical striped turtleneck. Her shapely bottom and legs were encased in high waist, creamy white Ulyana Sergeenko jeans with black leather tapered at the top, black and white juicy couture Georgette heels showed off her pedicured dark amber colored toes. The only jewelry she adorn was a black vegan leather gold heart watch, gold Moschino peace earrings, and…my diamond snow leopard ring. I have taken a liking to her wearing at least one item of mine.

Her makeup was matte and in her typical vamp style, black lipstick and black mascara. I slid down onto my knees and moved between her legs, my elbows resting on her legs and she immediately cradled my face in her incredibly soft hands, stroking the bones that formed my face with such tenderness.  She smells too good, like her woody and earthy Laurel Canyon perfume, and her sweet English lavender soap. I laid my head on her lap and my face close to her clothed center. We've made love twice this morning and fucked three. "Why do you have to go?"

"Monkey, you have work today, you're filming remember?" She spoke so soft and sweet and I nuzzled her thighs. "And I have to meet with my manager who isn't happy with you right now, and have lunch with Anya-"

I scowled and lifted my head. "Anya." I spat.

She frowned, we went over this yesterday.  Anya Taylor-Joy is one of my little moth's best friends, but Minka used to have a crush on her, they fooled around and she convinced me there's nothing there between them anymore. Anya does seem enamored with her rock star boyfriend but I can't stop this large green beast from trying to swallow me whole. "I'm sorry." I apologized to her and raked my hand through my hair. I helped her up onto her feet, now I was towering over her. I took off my baseball cap and put it on her pretty bob in backwards fashion before kissing her gorgeous little face. Her beauty is a huge problem. "Perhaps I should get you pregnant so you would have no choice but to stay by my side."

She giggled like it was a joke. It wasn't. "Koza, I'll be back okay?" She took my hand leading me outside. Her assistant, her little brother Stone, was waiting outside by a 1985 teal corvette.  She squeaked when I lifted her a little and pulled her into a bone crushing muscle bruising hug. I kissed her and I was greedy with it, and I bit over the violet bruise I gave her on her neck. She cried weakly and winced. I smiled and licked the abused skin. She tangled her fingers in my hair. "Pick me up at eleven tonight, okay?"

I grinned and kissed her again. "Okay deal!" She pried herself out of my unbearable hold to scurry off to her sibling. "Don't forget about me while I'm away at war!" She teased before hopping in. They were gone so fast, she was gone so fast. Meanwhile I needed to try and remember who I was before Minka Farrah slipped into the bathroom at Chateau Marmont.

@meetmyothersouls @sufferingstarlight

#timothee fanfic #timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x oc

[ididit-allofit-foryou]

i've been drawing disabled people for disability pride month, & i put all the ones i've done so far together!! :D

(the description wouldn't fit in the alt text, so it's below the cut)

a drawing of 15 disabled people on a yellow background with a light pink floral pattern. from left to right:

1. a fat white person whose left (their left) arm ends before the elbow. their right arm is on their hip, & they are smiling. they have short red hair, a yellow dress with white flowers, white hoop earrings, and black heels. they also have moles and are blushing.

2. a chubby middle eastern woman wearing a light pink embroidered abaya kaftan style robe and a slightly darker pink hijab. the robe's embroidery is delicate mauve vines around the sleeves, and two matching vines down the front. the woman has a german shepherd service dog with her. the. dog is sitting to the viewers right and has its tongue out, and is wearing a service dog vest. the woman is holding the leash to the dog in her right hand, and has her left hand on her hip. she is wearing pink slippers with a mauve gem on the top.

3. a black, bald, thin, nonbinary person with several facial piercings and earrings standing with their left arm lower than the right, slightly tilted backwards, arms hanging by their sides. they are wearing pink sandals, knee braces, a compression glove and elbow brace on their left arm, & have on blue shorts and a bright pink crop top that says 'FUCK ABLEISTS' (peep that underboob 👀 [side eye emoji]).

4. a chubby south asian woman with white hair and a green striped cane wearing a pale green button up shirt with shoulder pads, dark green corduroy pants, and brown loafers. her posture is tilted a bit from scoliosis.

5. a thin east asian man with a facial deformity that affects his nose and makes his left eye lower than the right. he has wavy pink har that is long on top and short on the sides. he is wearing a white cropped tank top with lace at the neck-line, and loose, flowy green pants. his shoes are white with pink detailing. he is turned so his body faces the viewer's right side, but is looking at the camera with his hands in his pockets.

6. a curvy latine autistic person holding a yellow AAC/speech tablet in front of their chest. they have very long light blue curly hair and freckles, and are smiling with their eyes closed. they are wearing dark blue headphones, a yellow short sleeve shirt, a dark blue romper with bows on the shoulders, and yellow sandals.

7. a curvy disabled bed-bound native american person lying in bed on their side facing the viewer and smiling. they have their left arm folded under their head, & their right arm laying next to heir face. the bed is dark brown with blue and white patterned sheets and a fuzzy purple blanket draped over the person and a corner is touching the ground. the person has tan skin and shaved brown hair.

8. a thin black woman with vitiligo, and wavy lime green hair with baby hairs, smiling in a wheelchair with lime green wheels. she is tilting the wheelchair back in a wheelie position. she is wearing a high-neck, sleeveless, black top with a boob window; light blue skinny jeans; tall, black lace-up boots; and dangly earrings.

9. an east asian man who has dwarfism. he is standing with his left hand on his hip, and his right hand up in a peace sign. he has square glasses and long, blonde, curly hair. he is wearing a black turtle neck, orange pants, and black booties.

10. a tall, curvy, white woman with forearm crutches. she is holding the crutch to her right normally, & is resting her left elbow and knee on the left crutch. her hair is shaved and brown on the right side of her head, and on the left side she has lair down to her chest colored in a rainbow pattern. she is wearing a dress that is pale pink with a pale yellow confetti pattern, pale yellow converse, and blue socks.

11. a drawing of a chubby, blind, south asian man. he has short, flowy, gray hair, black sunglasses, black stud earrings, a green sweater, a long black skirt, brown shoes, a gold key necklace, and a white cane. he has his right hand in front of him holding the cane, and his left hand by his side.

12. a fat black person sitting on the ground. their right elbow is resting on their right knee. their left leg is tucked in front of them on the ground, and their left hand is supporting them. they have short pink locs with the sides of their head shaved. they have a cleft lip scar and some moles on their face. they are wearing a black bra with a sheer long sleeve shirt over it, green shorts, and pink booties.

13. a drawing of a chubby latine man with an afro, mustache, and beard standing with his right arm behind his head. his left arm is holding up the end of a red dress with a deep v-neck to reveal his left leg is a prosthetic. he has chest, armpit, and leg hair, and is wearing gold jewelry and black flats.

14. a drawing of a disabled, curvy middle eastern woman with a feeding tube going from her nose to a bag on a pole. she is wearing a green shirt with a foliage pattern, tan shorts, and black combat boots with purple socks. her hair is also purple, and she has several earrings.

15. a drawing of a chubby native american man on a light blue background. he is using a blue rollator and waving. he is wearing a pink striped vest and vibrant green bell bottoms with pink flowers. his hair is long and blue, and he has three tattoo lines on his chin.

#disability pride month #disabled #disabled artist #chronic illness #limb difference #service dog #hypermobility #elhers danlos syndrome #pots syndrome #scoliosis #cane user #cripple punk #bed bound #bedridden #mecfs #cfs #chronic fatigue syndrome #facial deformity #actually autistic #speech tablet #wheelchair #dwarfism #forearm crutches #cleft lip #cleft palate #blindness #prosthetic #feeding tube #rollators #rain creates

[magnificentlyreused]

In the thirty-third episode of the fourth season of Magnificent Century, Şehzade Selim’s and Nurbanu Sultan’s triplets Gevherhan, İsmihan and Şah Sultan wear three similar kaftans made from the same fabric. The kaftans can be differentiated by closely examing the pattern and its placement.

The kaftan worn by Şah Sultan (left) appears again on Hanzade Sultan in the fifteenth episode of the second season of Magnificent Century: Kösem.

One of the kaftans is also worn by Kaya Sultan in the twenty-first episode of the second season of Magnificent Century: Kösem,  however it is dificult to say which one she is wearing. It is most likely the one worn by İsmihan. Comparing the screenshots of Hanzade and Kaya, the pattern on their left shoulders doesn’t match, so it cannot be Şah Sultan’s kaftan. The same is true when looking at a close-up of Gevherhan wearing her kaftan and comparing it to Kaya’s. So it can be concluded that it should be İsmihan’s kaftan, despite the show not giving the viewer enough angles to properly compare it to the other kaftans.

#Magnificent Century #Magnificent Century Kösem #Magnificent Century Kosem #Muhteşem Yüzyıl #Muhteşem Yüzyıl: Kösem #period drama #costume drama #historical drama #İsmihan Sultan #Ismihan Sultan #Gevherhan Sultan #Gevherhan Sultan (Daughter of Nurbanu) #Şah Sultan #Sah Sultan #Şah Sultan (Daughter of Nurbanu) #Hanzade Sultan #Kaya Sultan #recycled costumes #reused costumes

[coffeewithcutcaffeine]

— in which Mehmed the Conqueror contemplates his old enemy’s reason for existence, as well as his own role in it.

word count: 1,317 words

warnings: main character death; mentions of decapitation, murder, and violence

a/n: Believe it or not, writing this has left me a whimpering mess on the floor. I hope I will be forgiven for inducing this trauma.

➨ also available on AO3

January 1477, Imperial New Palace, Constantinople, the Ottoman Empire

Amidst the grandeur of Yeni Sarayı, a solitary figure lurks in its shadows, clad in the emperor's purple splendour. His visage is tranquil like the placid waters of the summer lake he remembers from his early years in Amasya. However, beneath the surface of pristine serenity, his mind is plagued by questions as elusive as a butterfly, fluttering just out of reach. It is a riddle with no solution in sight, one that the beauty of the palace’s intricate designs and the magnificence of its architecture would not resolve.

Only one person could have navigated him to the answers he seeks, but that person’s voice is lost forever in the vastness of the universe. He holds the evidence of the new reality in his jewelled hands — a severed head covered in a dense layer of honey that coats the flesh like armour, preventing the flesh from rotting. It brings to mind the ceaseless sweet lies that marked their lives, culminating in this bitter end.

Since his early childhood, he has despised the feeling of getting his hands soiled, whether it be from blood, sugar, mud, or spice. He has always felt an unrelenting urge to cleanse everything, to revel in the sensation of immaculate purity. How curious it is, then, that the viscous texture coating his hands and drizzling onto his intricately embroidered kaftan suddenly brings him such solace.

The sensation of the honey, sticky and saccharine, is like a balm to his soul. At last, his once cherished childhood rival, eventually turned into a deadly enemy, has met his demise.

His gaze is hypnotised by the object in his possession. The once-sharp and prominent facial features have slowly started to fade away beneath the protective coating of the amber substance, yet the face remains painfully recognisable — just like the old scar his younger brother Radu has left as a memento on Mehmed’s thigh, one that has never quite faded away. The eyes are shut, and their long, dark lashes cling to the tender flesh beneath.

The eyes… They are mercifully veiled behind the eyelids, and yet he anticipates them to suddenly open, greener than any blades of grass in the entire vastness of the world, and focus intently upon him, the ferocious gaze akin to scorching flames. The idea forces him to briefly turn away from the precious treasure within his grasp and take a deep breath as a wave of nausea washes over him.

Once the feeling subsides, he resumes his scrutiny of the dead man’s countenance, committing each and every detail to memory with meticulous care. Remembrance of the face floods his mind, taking him back to their days of youth, when they were scarcely yet men. The thick tresses that framed his face were darker than the blackest of nights, his eyes wide open, with the glint of the sardonic cast already present.

Equally vivid in his mind is the recollection of their brief encounters many years later — when the man, a voivode once more, came to Kostantiniyye to pay tribute in the spring of twenty years ago, and the series of violent assaults endured during those fateful June nights five years later, when his life was nearly snatched away by the Wallachian’s own hand. A broad-shouldered and thick-necked virile figure plagues his memories, so quick on his feet, heavy black curls cascading down his shoulders, his face handsome and cruel in the extreme.

The face covered in honey before his eyes is now that of a man who lived, not that of a mere child or a young man. A glimpse of silver, concealed amidst the long dark strands of hair, glimmers all the more prominently in the beard. The creases deeply etched around the eyes testify to a life brimming with experience and sorrows. Mehmed harbours no doubt that the son of the Dragon must have known much hardship and misfortune in his days, for he himself wrought and took pleasure in it.

When they first met, they were but children. Cast into the fires of war with the passing time, he wondered once what fate would befall them both when the flames were finally quenched. Mehmed was certain that his death would bring him much joy and peace. He spent countless days and sleepless nights yearning for his head, praying for news that the infamous Kazıklı Bey had been defeated and wiped from the world. And yet, he also wished that the stubborn voivode would cast away his pride and join forces with the people who had once sheltered him during his childhood, miles away from his war-torn home.

He now holds his severed head in his open palms, looks at his face… and it brings him no joy, no peace. Only sorrow, for he used to know him well, knew his persistence and his resistance, and he finds himself unable to believe that it seemingly took little to finally destroy him, the work of Mehmed’s men who treacherously stabbed the brave warrior in the back in the midst of the battle and proudly sent his head to the Sultan as a proof of yet another success.

And even as in every other victory over the man, this one, too, is a Pyrrhic one.

It is not meet that sorrow should take hold of him, for all his days Mehmed despised this man with every fibre of his being. He is known to be a very pragmatic and composed individual, yet the gnawing bitterness he felt at one point could not let him sleep — this nobody earned respect wherever he set his foot, even from the people who had deformed him to his very core. He put on his dragon armour and stopped even the mighty el-Fatih, conquering every land he set his eyes upon.

And yet the sorrow lingers, for he knows that his sentiments, like those of any mortal man, are more intricate than that. He was a hated enemy, no doubt, but also a childhood acquaintance of old times, and a commander of great skill whom he deeply respected. Very few opponents have ever garnered such attention from the young sultan as he. Had he changed his mind and chosen to stand on the side of the Crescent, Mehmed would have welcomed him with open arms, bestowing upon him the respect and glory befitting a man of his brilliance — unlike the treacherous Hungarian king who imprisoned him for thirteen long years.

As he places the head back in the wooden chest, he laughs bitterly. Do his sentiments matter anymore? Does their past? It is the winner who writes the history and blackens the names of his enemies. And all his foolish heroism will no longer have much value, for one reason only.

Mehmed is still alive. He is not.

“Allah’a emanet ol, Vlad Bey,” his voice is barely a whisper as he bids his final farewell. Then, he summons one of the janissaries guarding the heavy doors from outside.

As he catches the glimpse of the bone-white üsküf entering the room, he beckons to where the chest is placed. His voice is cold and resolute like a winter storm, once more that of a sultan — more than any man in the world, yet stripped of simple humanity because of it. “Take the head, put it on a wooden stake, and place it outside of the sarayı for everyone to see. Let every person in this land know what remains of Kazıklı Bey.”

The janissary bows reverently before taking the chest in his hands, wordlessly retreating from the presence of the Sultan. As soon as he is gone, Mehmed slowly walks towards the grand window, looking outside in silent pondering. Still does the honey cling to his hands, now hardening into a crust.

The very last bittersweet memory of the man whose life was so closely intertwined with his own.

The exact whys surrounding Vlad's death are relatively unclear, but the historians agree that his head was sent to Constantinople, encased in honey to preserve it. This was supposedly done to prove to Sultan Mehmed that he was no longer a threat.

In this work, I use Turkish names for several places and objects mentioned to give it the right feel.

We do not know just how close Vlad and Mehmed truly were during their childhood. It is possible that the two boys met briefly during Vlad's hostage years, if at all. In the case of this fiction, anything related to these two during Vlad's hostage years is the result of the imagination of yours truly.

Apparently, Vlad's eyes were not green but grey. The colour mentioned here is pure artistic liberty. (A.k.a. the author refuses to give up on this.)

Initially, I described Vlad with a moustache... then scrolled through the wonderful @/vladdocs and found out that Vlad sported a pretty great beard during his third reign. Lo and behold, headcanon heartily accepted.

Vlad and Mehmed probably never got close enough to actually see each other during the night attacks, let alone so close that Vlad could kill him (it was definitely on the agenda but, you know, the janissaries). Once again, my mentions of it are pure artistic liberty.

As for Mehmed himself! It is certainly not my intention to glorify him and portray him as the embodiment of an angel — after all, he is one of the main archenemies when looking at the story from Vlad's perspective. At the same time, I do not want to label these historical figures as solely black or white. Life is complex, so are people, and their times required all of them to be merciless — everyone was doing whatever they could to get the upper hand. (Also, it's the 15th century so, you know... no roses and unicorns happening there.) We know for certain that Mehmed respected Vlad — Laonikos Chalkokondyles leaves a mention of Mehmed's reaction in the aftermath of the night attacks in The Histories, stating that,

The sultan was seized with amazement and said that it was not possible to deprive of his country a man who had done such great deeds, who had such a diabolical understanding of how to govern his realm and its people. And he said that a man who had done such things was worth much.

#vlad dracula #vlad drăculea #vlad tepes #vlad ţepeş #vlad the impaler #mehmed ii #mehmed the conqueror #historical fiction #potentially triggering #now excuse me while i go hide myself for an eternity

[lawful-evil-novelist]

Friend in the Night Market

I wanted to do something with my original works for the 27th @fluffbruary prompt, so I ended up doing something with Aydın and Tzivya.

---

Samsava, like most cities, didn’t go quiet after sunset, especially at this time of year.  With Bakire’s Night only a few days away, most northern traders wanted to get their business in the city done and over with before the hot summer months hit, and in Samsava, that meant trading well into the night.

As the sun slipped below the horizon, strings of glass lamps hanging over the souk lit up like the stars, but the streets grew more difficult to navigate as people crowded the stalls.  Tzivya could’ve sworn she knew how to get back to her caravan’s stall, but she couldn’t see the rich embroidered blankets that hung from it anywhere along the line, and her stomach growled as she searched the crowds.  She wanted to go home now, back to the desert where there weren’t so many people and she could kick off her boots and feel the warm sand between her toes.

Tzivya paused near a corner, wrapping her kaftan around her a little tighter and trying to peer over the crowds.  She couldn’t find anything, and her stomach still growled urgently.  She wandered to one side absently, trying to get a better view.

A strong hand grabbed Tzivya by the scruff of her neck and pulled her back just as a cart tumbled along.  The same hand clapped her on the shoulder and became a firm grip.

“You’re a long way from your family, little deer,” a soft voice remarked, prompting Tzivya to turn back, surprised.  She knew that voice.

“Aydın?” she narrowed her eyes, for the man behind her hid his features with his hood.  Aydın was just as wolf-lean and his Cazadorian leather looked about the same, but she couldn’t be sure, lots of swords for hire in Samsava wore black Cazadorian leather and had lean builds.

“Am I that obvious?” Aydın lowered his hood, grinning his stupid crooked smile.  “You get lost again?”

Tzivya pulled a face.  Hitting the nail on the head, as usual.  She couldn’t even turn it around on him and point out some time Aydın got lost in the desert.  The only time she’d ever seen him stranded, someone had left him for dead.  Aydın smirked and looped his arm around Tzivya’s elbow, leading her through the crowds.

“It’s not funny,” Tzivya protested.

“I knew my way around the souk when I was ten, Tzivya,” Aydın replied.  “You’re almost twice that and ended up on the other side of the market.”

“You also grew up here,” Tzivya reasoned.

Aydın shrugged and veered over to a street stand where they were selling meat being turned on a spit.  He glanced back at Tzivya before speaking to the man.

“What are your honest thoughts on kokoreç?” he asked.

Tzivya looked between the spit-roasted meat and Aydın, “Are you offering me food?”

“I mean you got lost,” Aydın shrugged, “might as well sample the local food as compensation.”

“I can make kokoreç myself, over a cooking fire.”

“Yeah but can you get it diced on bread with red onions?” Aydın asked.  “Without doing any of the work.”

Tzivya narrowed her eyes at Aydın, who grinned back.

“That’s what I thought,” he nodded, then turned back to the stall to order.

Tzivya glanced back at the market and stared up at the lamps, watching them shimmer and shine like tangible stars, close enough to touch.  They lit the whole market in a stunning array, she always loved it with the awnings draped across buildings.

“You know it got way harder to pickpocket in the market when the mages put those up,” Aydın remarked as he returned, handing her a roll of bread stuffed with kokoreç and other vegetables.  “I mean I still managed it but–”  Aydın took a bite of his roll and shrugged.

Tzivya bit into her roll and let the spices and savory meat settle in her mouth and stick between her teeth.  It wasn’t exactly like they made it in her caravan, but that didn’t make it any less good.

“Ever tried to take one?” she asked.

“I tried once,” Aydın nodded.  “They’re full of pure starlight; I burned my hand.”

“Oh,” Tzivya resisted the urge to pout.  She’d forgotten light magic was still pure light, and therefore produced heat.  She had no experience with that kind of magic; no one in her caravan really used it.

“See that one there?” Aydin pointed to one, which glowed a little dimmer than the rest.  “That’s the one I grabbed.  I was so startled I knocked it a little askew.  It’s never been as light since.”

“Huh,” Tzivya chewed her next bite slowly, then looked at Aydın.  “How old were you?”

“Thirteen,” Aydın smiled. “I already knew light magic produced heat.”

“Spectacular.”

“Yep,” Aydın took another bite from his roll and linked arms with Tzivya again, leading her through the streets back to her family.  Tzivya didn’t even mind the packed dirt under her feet or the throngs of people anymore.  She felt safe with a friend.

#original works #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #original characters