#i actually did this in front of my family

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Career Day

Tags: teeth rotting fluff, crack, jjk men as dads / fem!reader

An: Your child comes home and says tomorrow is career day at their school. They want to bring you and their daddy to school to show off how cool you two are, but.. their dad doesn’t exactly have the most conventional job.

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA

SATORU

“My daddy is the strongest!” Your son explains to a room full of his peers. Satoru is proudly beaming next to him. You note how much they look alike. The white hair, the bright blue eyes. Your son looks like he came straight from Satoru and had nothing to do with you.

But your son, Aoi, definitely had your personality.

“Nuh uh. He can’t be the strongest. Superman’s the strongest!” Another kid protested with an unconvinced frown.

“Well, my daddy is like superman!” Aoi retorts, keeping his headstrong personality like his mama. “Actually, he’s even better than superman!”

“He’s not even wearing a suit!” A different child speaks up. You share a nervous glance with Satoru. He’s enjoying this all too much.

“He doesn’t need a suit to be the strongest, dumbass!” Your sweet boy yells, and you promptly cover his mouth. Satoru is laughing his ass off, making the entire situation worse.

Correction, Aoi trying out his dad’s signature hand signal and saying “domain expansion” made the entire situation so much worse.

“You’re grounded, Aoi. You can’t say those things to other people. It’s rude and hurtful.” You say as you and Satoru walk your young boy home. Aoi lets out a small frustrated groan.

“I’m still getting him ice cream.” Satoru interjects with a proud smile. “My boy tried to cast his first domain at just six-years-old. He deserves a sweet treat.” Two wide smiles look up at you, and you realize you’re outnumbered here. Rolling your eyes, you nudge Satoru.

“I want a girl next.”

SUGURU

Mimiko and Nanako begged Suguru to come to their school’s career day. He was of course hesitant to do so, given that Jujutsu sorcery was still a hidden art in Japan. He didn’t exactly know how to explain his career to a bunch of kids.

He had a plan though. He would just tell the children that he was a preacher at a church. It’s not… completely a lie. He was a leader for.. a type of church.

You and Geto walk into the cozy looking classroom and see a load of other parents there. Your husband grimaced at the thought of having to interact with all these… people.

You give Suguru a reassuring squeeze of the hand. “It’ll be okay. Anything for the girls, right?” You whisper into his ear, making him nod. Anything for the girls.

When it’s finally Mimiko and Nanako’s turn to explain what their daddy does for a living, your small family gathers at the front of the classroom. Plenty of small innocent faces and reassuring smiles fill the room.

“Okay girls, tell us what your parents do for a living.” Their teacher prompts with a warm smile.

“My daddy swallows balls for a living!” Nanako says proudly with a beaming smile.

The kids erupted into laughter while their parents gave you two disgusted looks.

To make matters worse, “He also hates filthy mo-“ Mimiko tries to add on, but Geto quickly covers her mouth with his hand.

After explaining what a vivid imagination your twins have, you go on to explain that Geto is a leader at a church, and well, that doesn’t go over too well either.

“Homeschool?” Geto suggests as the four of you walk home.

“Most definitely.” You agree. Mimiko and Nanako are now educated by you at the home, where they can’t out their dad for swallowing balls.

TOJI

“Mama, make papa come to career day.” Your young son, Megumi, demanded. He had a small little pout on his face, and his arms were firmly crossed over his chest. Behind him, Toji stood, shaking his head at his son’s determination.

He often did this: telling you to make Toji do something because you were the only person who could make Toji do anything. After all these years, mans was still wrapped around your finger.

“Baby, Papa’s job is kinda private.” You explain quietly as you pet Megumi’s soft hair.

The small boy’s look of determination shifted to a look of reserve. Even as a young child, he wasn’t great at showing when his feelings were hurt, but you could always tell.

“Gumi.” You say his name softly, bending over to look at the boy’s flat expression.

You were also the only one who could coax Megumi into showing his real emotions.

Tears welled in his eyes, and his bottom lip started quivering. “I don’t wanna be the only one whose parents didn’t come.”

“Oh baby.” You frown as you pull your son into a hug. You glare upwards at Toji, and his eyes widened slightly. He knew what that look meant. “You’re going to career day.” You say to him, leaving no room for argument.

The next day,

“Okay Mr. Fushiguro, what do you do for a living?” The teacher asks Toji as he’s sat next to Megumi. Your son is actually smiling, enjoying the fact that Toji actually came to career day.

“People pay me a large sum of money, and I take care of someone for them.” Toji explains vaguely.

“Oh! Like a doctor?” One of the kids asked with an impressed smile.

“Sure, like a doctor.” Your husband lies, knowing that he does quite the opposite of what a doctor does.

SUKUNA

The look on the kids faces as your tall, muscular, tatted husband walked into the classroom was hilarious. Most of them were completely mortified, giving Sukuna frightened stares.

Your husband was completely unfazed. If anything, he was soaking in the kids’ fear. He sat at the front of the room with a look of arrogance.

Your nephew, Yuji, sat between you two. No, he was technically not your kid, but he didn’t have anyone else to bring to career day. So, Unc Sukuna and Auntie Yn were to the rescue.

“And.. what do you do for work, sir?” The teacher asked in almost a judgmental tone as she eyed Sukuna. You couldn’t tell if she despised him or wanted to fuck him.

“I don’t work. I live off tithe.” Sukuna bluntly answered with a shrug. His lopsided smile never left his face.

“What’s a tithe?” A small child asked quietly.

“It means people pay me out of fear of that I’ll harm them if they don’t.” Your husband gives a child a sharp stare with a challenging smile. He wanted the kids to keep asking questions. The thought of scaring multiple children all at once fueled him.

“Like… beat them up?” Another child asked.

“Like eating their snot-nosed children.” Sukuna answered with a toothy grin. The children all shrieked and cried in terror. Hell, even their parents looked frightened.

“Ryomen.” You chide as you look over towards your husband. He was laughing maniacally, even slapping his knee like the old man he was.

Yuji never invited you two to another career day.

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (15/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, humiliation, sexual tension, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He thought that the pain he felt in his eye socket as a child was a torture, however, the inability to take the woman who aroused his lust when she was at his fingertips proved just as unbearable.

At one moment he was furious with her for refusing him – as he pressed her against the stone walls of the Red Keep he could clearly feel under his fingers that her womanhood was leaking all over with desire – only to find later that he admired her self-denial and strength of will.

He thought that if her desire to remain his faithful and devoted wife was as strong, he would be satisfied.

The time of his greatest trial came to him in the evenings, when he lay alone in the cold, empty bed – he could feel the tension in his loins pulsing through his veins, his lower abdomen and erection, swollen and impatient, knowing that his relief was asleep a few steps from his chamber, across the hall.

He closed his eyes then, fighting with himself, not wanting her to look at him the way his mother would.

With sadness and regret.

So he waited, dying each day at the thought of her bare body, at the thought that she longed for him – he could see it in her gaze, hear it in her hitched, heavy breath as his lips brushed her neck, as he grasped her sweet breasts in his hands, wanting to feel her even for a moment.

He knew she was his, but he couldn't have her.

So that's what madness is, he mused.

He was relieved to hear that his grandsire, to his surprise, had no objections regarding his chosen one.

"She is a wise girl, bound to you with her heart and mind. Both she and her dragon will be of great use to us. With her help, we might be able to pull at least some of the Lords of the Vale over to our side – they are more likely to listen to someone of their blood, someone who knows and understands their concerns, who will not threaten them with dragonfire like Daemon." Said Otto, sitting beside him at the table in his chamber – he nodded, looking to the side with an expression devoid of emotion, not wanting his grandfather to see any sign that he felt satisfaction at his words.

She is bound to you with her heart and mind.

He felt shame and contentment that Otto thought he was not indifferent to her – he believed his grandsire was capable of seeing more than he did.

The truth was that he feared to hear something from him that would destroy her image in his eyes, deprive him of the object of trust and affection that he so desperately needed.

"The King is awake, but he is in great pain, so we have given him large amounts of poppy milk to ease his suffering." Said the Maester.

He hummed, towering over his brother's bed with his head cocked to one side.

"Mmm. See to it that he can spend the next few days in the comfort of blissful sleep." He said, glancing at the Maester, who swallowed hard and nodded, understanding what he meant.

He couldn't regain the sobriety of his mind until the nuptials officially took place.

After that, their marriage, performed in front of crowds of witnesses, united by the gods themselves, would not be able to be dissolved by anyone.

He also decided to make minor changes in the Small Council, wanting to surround himself only with people who actually wished their family victory.

His mother, though he deluded himself into thinking it would be different, was not one of them, trying to use the weakness he had for her against him, as did Larys Strong, who, true to his betrothed's words, poured poison into his ears.

Stripping Larys of his function was easy and gave him great satisfaction, with his Hand, meaning his grandfather, taking over his role.

He knew, however, that the conversation with his mother would be difficult for him and he prepared for it for a long time.

"You have served the Kingdom faithfully for many years. It is time for you to rest." He said after ordering her to stay, once the Small Council meeting was over, looking ahead with a blank stare, knowing that if he looked at her face he would feel something he didn't want to.

He swallowed hard as her figure leaned over him, as her familiar, smooth hand touched his cheek, her thumb stroking his skin.

Why couldn't she bestow such a touch on him when he needed it?

Why did he only deserve it when she wanted to soften and manipulate him, exactly like Sylvi?

"Has your loss not yet been sufficiently avenged?" She asked him in a way from which he felt a squeeze in his throat – he looked at her, into her warm brown eyes, in which he so longed to see recognition.

However, all he saw was pain.

She suffered looking at him, at her own son, at what he had become.

Was he really such a bad person?

He lowered his gaze and placed his hand on hers, stroking her skin with his thumb, wanting to remember this moment, his mother showing him something he could call tenderness, something he would be able to cling to for years to come, deprived again of her closeness and warm words.

"This is my final decision."

His mother swallowed hard and took her hand from his cheek – he seemed to feel an almost physical pain when she did so, when an unpleasant chill surrounded his skin where her familiar fingers had been only moments ago, as if someone had forcibly torn him from her safe, warm womb.

After all, it wasn't his fault that he had been born.

"Who will take my place? Another man pushing for war at any cost?" She asked with a disappointment and bitterness from which his lower lip trembled, his stomach clenched so tightly that he found it difficult to take a deep breath.

"My betrothed."

The sight of her serene, calm expression at his grandfather's side was refreshing – her gaze, unlike that of his mother, was filled with warmth and trust.

He thought with shame that he had given her a seat in his council just to look at her.

However, as he found out moments later, he had judged himself too harshly.

"Everything is ready for the nuptials and a small wedding, which will of course take place in the Throne Room. The ceremony itself will not be grand and lavish, but I think everyone sitting around this table understands that in a situation of war we cannot afford to wantonly empty our treasury." Otto said, and he shifted his gaze from his grandfather to her – she smiled lightly when their gazes met, giving him a look full of reassurance that pomp was the last thing she wanted.

He felt a pleasant warmth in his chest at the thought, the realisation that she shared his values, his love of simplicity and, of course, unabashed modesty.

His grandfather, hearing no objection, continued.

"On that day, all the guards and sentries will be on duty – such occasions are always a good opportunity for the enemy to attack, because they take advantage of the chaos that then prevails. That's why we can't afford to deviate from the day's schedule and changes – I've also appointed my few trusted men to keep an eye on the cooks and how the food and drink is prepared."

"Nevertheless, I think it will be appropriate for me to try both the wine and anything else the Prince will want to taste." He heard her voice and looked at her, shocked.

The thought that she cared for him, that she was so concerned that someone would try to take his life by trickery and poison him, touched him.

Otto smiled under his breath and nodded.

"I appreciate your concern for my grandson, my Lady, however, I will assign a person to try the dishes for the two of you. We do not wish for anyone's death during this joyous occasion." He said softly, clearly pleased as he was with her faithfulness and devotion.

"No." She said, looking at his grandfather, then at him. "My father, and for sure all of Dragonstone and their allies, think this wedding is a further part of my abduction, independent of my free will. They will continue to spread rumours and stories that I am imprisoned by the Prince and that he, in his cruelty, forced me to become his wife. Many Lords will be present during the ceremony, and word will spread through the Kingdom like the wind. Let them, as well as others present, see the two of us forming a united front that evening, let them see me try my husband's wine."

His grandfather raised an eyebrow and readjusted himself in his chair, as surprised as he was by her words and how thoughtful they were.

"It is an intriguing approach to the matter, I admit – indeed, a demonstration of unity and solidarity can only strengthen support for our cause among the Lords. I will leave the final decision to you, my Prince." Said Otto, and he mused, looking at her with a piercing gaze, playing with the gold coin between his fingers.

"I appreciate my betrothed's devotion, however, I will not allow her to endanger herself – instead, as a symbol of unity and union, I propose that we fly over King's Landing together the next day, showing our might and strength at the same time." He said calmly – his cousin merely sighed and nodded, throwing him a gentle look indicating that his rejection of her idea did not cause her any pain.

He swallowed hard, feeling his manhood pulsate aggressively in his breeches, screaming with longing, having her at his fingertips.

After speaking to his mother, he felt disheartened, and she was not by his side.

His desperation caused him to do something he was sure he would never do in his life, considering it to be behaviour beneath his dignity.

"Accompany me on my stroll through the royal gardens. I want to breathe some fresh air and take advantage of the good weather." He hummed, passing her as he, like the others, moved towards the door after the Small Council meeting was over.

He knew she was surprised, but she moved after him immediately, having trouble keeping up with him now that she was wearing a gown, making it difficult for her to move freely.

He wanted to hide between the trees as quickly as possible, so that no servants or guards would notice them, not wishing to be the cause of mockery and gossip later.

Again.

He slowed down as they finally stepped out into the part of the Keep surrounded by shrubbery that formed a plethora of alleys – he took the only one he knew, which was the main one, hearing behind him that she followed him with the quiet rattle of stones beneath her feet.

He put his hands behind his back and looked at her over his shoulder – she smiled at him, walking a few steps behind him.

He stopped and she did the same, her head cocked in happy curiosity.

"Don't I even deserve to have you walking by my side? That kind of closeness is unkind to the gods too?" He asked dryly, frustrated and dying of longing, needing her like never before, feeling rejected and alone.

He swallowed hard, feeling remorseful when he saw that her expression changed, as if he had slapped her in the face, her eyebrows arched in pain, her eyes big and sad, her lips parted slightly in surprise full of terror.

"– n-no –" She muttered, playing with her fingers on her womb, coming closer to him with a quiet rustling of her gown. "– usually outside of our quarters you prefer it when I give you space – if you desire me to be close to you, I will –"

He felt the sudden wave of rage and grief that had surged through his body weaken, leaving him with a sense of sadness and emptiness.

He didn't want to ask or beg for such things, on the other hand, in fact, when he knew someone might see them, he preferred not to give anyone reason to comment on their behaviour.

He himself didn't know what he felt and needed, and he required her to understand him and his needs more than he did, he thought with shame.

Seeing how tense he was and hearing his silence she took a few steps towards him, standing so close that he felt her wonderful scent tease his nostrils, her delicate hand touched his chest and then was joined by another, his heart beating hard under her fingers.

He dared to look at her, and it was a mistake – her gaze was filled with a heat that both terrified him and brought him to the state where he felt like throwing himself at her, pulling her skirt up and taking her like a whore, wanting nothing more than to fill her with his seed.

"– may I kiss you, my Prince? –" She asked in a trembling voice, being formal at the same time, afraid to frustrate him, not knowing what behaviour he expected of her.

He couldn't answer anything – his hands simply caught her suddenly at the waist and pulled her closer so that her body slammed against his, her sweet moan echoing in his throat as he sank into her fleshy, luscious lips with a sigh of relief.

He murmured as her fingers stroked his jaw and neck, and her lips responded tentatively to his caress, showering him with lazy, deep, loud kisses. He felt her whole body tremble as the tip of his tongue ran invitingly over her upper lip, her hands clenched on his shoulders as if she were struggling with herself.

Something between a groan and a murmur escaped his lips when he felt her slick tongue come out to meet his in a slow, wet lick.

He clasped his hands in her hair and on the material of her gown, pressing his completely hard erection against her stomach, ready to take her here, in this place, on the grass, under the sun.

However, as soon as he grabbed the ribbon tying her dress at the back, she pulled away from him and shook her head, breathing loudly, her cheeks pink with emotion, her lips puffy and glistening from his caresses, her gaze filled with nothing but desire and lust.

"– no – please, lēkia – it's only three more days –" She muttered pleadingly, and he pressed his lips together, feeling rejected.

"– don't I even deserve the embrace of your arms? – to be able to snuggle against your breasts, to experience solace now that sleep does not find me at night? –" He almost wailed, filled with grief and frustration, thinking with shame that he had acted like a small child.

He saw her swallow hard, surprised, all red with shame at his words.

"– I'll let you – I'll let you touch and cuddle against my breasts – if you promise not to take me –" She mumbled, and he nodded, desperate.

She held out her hand to him, and he grasped it, moving behind her through the grass between the trees – he blinked, surprised, when she lay down under one of them in such a place that they were covered by shrubbery on all sides, and even if someone had passed that way, he would not have noticed their lying silhouettes.

"– come –" She whispered, reaching her hands into the back of her gown, loosening its entire structure so that it slid off her shoulders.

He knelt down in front of her, feeling the aggressive pounding of his heart and the painful pulsing of his manhood as his fingers slid the material even lower, finally exposing what he so desperately craved.

She moaned far too loudly when he leaned in suddenly and his lips clamped greedily around her hard nipple, beginning to suck, his other hand closing on her other breast, so wonderfully warm and soft under his fingers.

He sighed with delight and murmured as her familiar, safe arms cuddled him into her chest and he settled comfortably between her thighs.

"– I miss you –" He muttered like a little boy, releasing her nipple from his mouth with a quiet plop, feeling ashamed that he was letting her see his vulnerability – he nuzzled his cheek against her firm bosom, watching enthralled as his fingers squeezed and played with her other plump, lovely breast.

He closed his eyes as she leaned in and placed a tender, long kiss on the top of his head, stroking his hair and back with her hands.

"– I miss you too – try to sleep and rest, brother –" She whispered, and he snorted, shaking his head.

"– with this in my hands – I'd sooner die of tension than fall asleep –" He grunted, on the other hand pleased and fulfilled to feel her so intimately again, to be able to breathe for a moment and find the peace he so desperately needed.

Despite how confidently he said it, in the end the slow, gentle rhythm in which she stroked his body made his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, and when he finally closed them, he fell into a peaceful, deep slumber amidst the rustling of trees and grass, enveloped by her wonderful scent.

They spent every afternoon like this until their wedding day.

On the day of their nuptials, he was tense – he feared an attack from Dragonstone just as much as that his brother would want to call it all off at the last moment.

Some part of him didn't believe that it could work out for them – that there was a future in which he could get what he wanted without making a sacrifice for it for once.

He had to pay for everything with blood.

He shuddered, startled, when, while his servants were helping him put on his emerald tunic, the door to his chamber opened and his mother stepped in.

"Leave us." He said coldly, and the boys bowed and left them alone.

The Dowager Queen approached him with an uncertain step, looking down at her hands, his heart pounded harder in hope, begging for her blessing and at least one tender look.

Her eyes finally lifted to his, and her hand touched his arm, stroking it in a gesture of comfort.

"I wish you, my son, to find with your future wife only the peace and understanding as I experienced at your late father's side." She said softly, and he swallowed hard, feeling discomfort in his stomach.

"You didn't love him. And I don't want my marriage to look like yours. Quite the opposite." He said coolly, pulling away from her, disappointed and dismayed that she was telling him what she thought she needed to say, rather than being honest with him.

Alicent sighed, as if his words and reaction caused her pain.

"We did not always agree, it is true. But our King was a good man, just as my son is." She said finally, and he grinned under his breath as he stood with his back to her, running his fingertips over the top of his table.

"If I remember correctly, he cut open the womb of his beloved wife while she was still alive. While I lost my eye, he cared more for the good name of his first-born daughter than for my suffering or your humiliation. I also know that he did not arouse your desire, for after Daeron's birth you spent each night in separate chambers." He said lightly as he walked over to the window, looking at the servants busying themselves, hanging ornaments and fresh flowers in the courtyard of the keep.

He wondered if his bride regretted her decision.

The thought that he would finally spend that evening sunk deep into her body filled him with fervent desire, and his mind drifted away from his mother and her attempts to salvage the image of his father in his mind.

"No one is perfect. Your father wasn't either. But I respected him and held deep affection for him." She replied finally, and he only hummed, losing the urge for her to give him anything.

Her tenderness, her warm word, her motherly gaze.

He was sick of begging on his knees for her to give him something that was real.

He had to create something like that himself with the woman he had snatched from the gods and made his own.

The tension in his muscles intensified as he stepped into the Great Sept and climbed up the stone steps to the top, standing next to the Septon – the sight of the crowd that had gathered in the temple and the knowledge that everyone's eyes were on him made him feel small and vulnerable.

What if he misspoke the words of his oath?

What if the cloak he had thrown over her shoulders slipped off?

What if she humiliated him in front of everyone, shouting in his face that she despised him?

He swallowed hard and looked to the side, feeling his heart pounding hard as cheers and loud conversations sounded outside the gates – he knew this meant her carriage had arrived and indeed, he saw his grandfather come out to meet her.

He felt his lips part involuntarily in disbelief as she and Otto walked into the temple – holding her hand in that of his grandfather's she walked with her head held high in a beautiful gown composed of blues and browns, from a distance he could see the sparkle of sapphire stones in her necklace and in her hair.

A sigh and pain squeezed his throat at the thought that, contrary to what he had thought, she had not taken on green, the colour of his faction, but his colour, blue, something only he could understand, her personal expression of affection and devotion, a wordless assurance of her fidelity and of what she desired.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, feeling himself tremble all over with nerves and excitement as she slowly climbed the steps to the top, standing at last before him, looking more beautiful than ever, all flushed with emotion.

He longed to touch her hand or her face, longed to feel the softness of her body, to speak the words of his vows with his nose nestled in her warm cheek.

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." Said the Septon loudly – he blinked and looked at him, snapped out of his reverie by the realisation that this was it.

He grunted, trying to remain calm, and turned away, nodding at his uncle, extending his hand to him.

It was only when he threw the cloak bearing his family crest over her shoulders that he understood why this tradition had been upheld for centuries – there was something about this protective gesture, of a husband surrounding his wife with a cloth to protect her from the cold and danger, while also being a symbol of the fact that now what would be would overshadow what was, and his house would become her home.

He swallowed hard, thinking with tenderness that they would now truly become a family.

Their shared lie before the eyes of the gods had become truth.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The Septon said, and he held out his hand, doing his best not to show how much it was quivering.

He felt relief when she looked at him, when her fingers touched his skin, in her gaze at once terror and warmth, the certainty of a feeling he feared was merely a figment of his imagination, her way of subduing him.

And yet, he could see it exactly in the depths of her beautiful dark eyes.

He pressed his lips together as the priest wrapped their hands several times with a long, wide, bright ribbon, symbolically entwining their fates with each other for eternity.

Are they about to hear the dragon's roar, to learn that Daemon and Rhaenyra have seized the opportunity, their nuptials to burn King's Landing?

This, her by his side, her body and her gaze meant only for him for the rest of his days could not become true.

"In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words." The Septon said, and he swallowed with difficulty, feeling his lips dry with emotion.

They looked at each other before opening their mouths, the words leaving his throat seeming to come out of him without the participation of his will.

"Father,

Smith,

Warrior,

Mother,

Maiden,

Crone,

Stranger

I am hers | I am his

and she is mine | and he is mine

from this day, until the end of my days."

He stared at her dully, waiting for the ground to part, for him to hear screams or someone's defiance, for some guard to run into the Sept, shouting that they had been attacked.

But only silence answered him.

She was his wife.

This thought, the fact that in front of witnesses they had spoken aloud the words of this vow, that the whole Kingdom had heard and seen it with their own eyes, that neither his brother nor anyone else could undo what had happened anymore, made him cup her rosy cheek in his hand, leaning over her.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." He whispered only to sink a moment later into the sweet wetness of her full lips, her innocent sigh of delight making his manhood throb softly in his breeches.

He broke the kiss and pulled away, looking closely at her beautiful, bright face – she blinked and smiled, so tenderly and sweetly that he felt the corners of his mouth lift upwards too, in something that was not a grimace but an expression of his genuine happiness.

They were married.

They returned to the Red Keep on horseback, upright and proud, surrounded by hundreds of guards – no one, however, thought to curse or attack them – his grandfather's trick had worked, and the food he had distributed to the smallfolk before their nuptials had made them shower them with flowers.

They did not look at each other during their journey, however, he felt her presence beside him and that was enough for him.

When they reached the courtyard of the Red Keep he jumped off his mount and approached her mare, dismissing the guard, extending his hands to her, wanting to help her get down on the ground. She welcomed his hands reaching out towards her with a sweet smile, leaning on his shoulders, jumping directly into his arms.

He managed to place a quick little kiss on her warm cheek from which she blushed, looking up at him happily, placing her hand on his.

They stepped into the Throne Room first, followed by all the guests. He remembered little of his grandfather's toast and the words of the Lords who, one by one, stood before their table, wishing them happiness and prosperity.

He merely nodded, stunned and tired, dreaming only of escaping with her to his chamber and sinking between her warm thighs.

He looked at her as he felt the fingers of her hand, extended towards him on the armrest, brush his in the air – he hummed under his breath and his knuckles ran over her soft skin in a gesture of reciprocation.

In keeping with his grandfather's desire, the servants tasted everything before it was served on their plates – still, when the wine was finally poured for him and his wife, he surprised her by taking her cup from her hand, taking the first sip from it.

It was sweet and tasted as usual, so he handed the goblet back to her – her look of affection and gratitude told him what she thought of what he had done and how she intended to reward him later.

He swallowed hard and took another sip of wine, this time from his own goblet, feeling that his erection was all swollen, throbbing with lust in his breeches.

He craved her so badly.

They all raised their gazes upwards when a guard stood in the doorway, a drop of cold sweat ran down his back at the thought that they had been attacked after all.

"King Aegon Targaryen, the Second of His Name. King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." He called out, and he and everyone around him froze.

Aegon stepped with difficulty, with one hand supporting himself on his staff, the other having thrown over the neck of Larys Strong, who was careful not to let his brother fall.

That fucking viper, he thought.

The burnt part of his brother's face was covered by the golden mask his father had worn towards the end of his life – their resemblance, their raked silhouette struck him so much that he simply sat and looked.

"– stand up – stand up, you fool –" Otto hissed and jerked him – he rose immediately from his seat, and with him his wife and all the others gathered.

His mother ran up to his brother, asking loudly how he could get out of bed while he was in such a state, whose idea it was to strain his weak body, but Aegon did not even look at her, his gaze fixed on him.

"Put a chair for His Grace right next to mine. My brother wishes to dine with us." He ordered loudly, feeling like he was a small child again, his heart pounding like mad with terror.

Aegon was brought to his seat by the guards – he himself held him down as he nearly fell over, panting heavily, pale and shivering all over from exertion. His brother exhaled loudly as he finally collapsed into his chair, and he and the rest of the room also took their seats.

"I have come to personally congratulate my brother and my cousin." Aegon said loudly, breathing hard, his words echoing through the chamber. "Though I must admit that their marriage comes as a surprise to me."

He stared dully at his plate, wanting to disappear, to melt into the ground, to not exist, feeling that his heart was about to leap out of his chest.

"However, the Kingdom cannot be left without an heir – I, because of my condition, will beget neither son nor daughter, so we must rely on my brother and his strong seed. I hope that on this night, I, as well as the rest of the court, will witness how the future Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms will be begotten." He said, lifting his wine cup – no one responded to his toast, but Aegon did not seem to mind – he drank the entire contents of it in a strangle.

That night, I, as well as the rest of the court, will witness how the future King of the Seven Kingdoms will be begotten.

"No." He hissed, their mother, trying to change his mind, took Aegon's hand in hers.

"My son, that's not appropriate, that's…"

"It is the King's command." His brother replied, not even looking at them – Otto leaned towards him from the other side, trying to intervene.

"Your Grace, I am not a supporter of this tradition myself – it is not conducive to neither marital intimacy nor the said begetting of offspring." He said, and Aegon laughed out loud.

"I don't care, you old fool."

Standing in his chamber in the company of his grandfather, Aegon, his friends, the would-be members of the Kingsguard, and the few Lords his brother had forced to watch this pathetic spectacle, he felt tears under his eyelids, even though his face was stony.

He had the impression that everything inside him froze while he looked towards the three-door screen, behind which Lysa was helping his wife undo her gown.

He thanked the gods that his mother left the chamber, unable to look at it.

He wondered whether, if he fell to his knees before his brother and begged him for forgiveness, he would take pity on them.

He shuddered, snapped out of his reverie, panicked and terrified when her beautiful, girlish figure clad only in a thin, snow-white nightgown came out from behind the screen, her long hair loose, her gaze fixed on him gentle and warm.

He swallowed hard as she reached her hand out to him, walking over to his bed – the sight of her not being as terrified as he was, of her not crying gave him strength – he moved towards her, and when he finally stood in front of her, she sidestepped him and walked over to the pillars of the bed, untying the curtains, pulling them all the way open so that they covered what was to happen behind them.

She wanted to give them a bit of privacy, he thought with gratitude.

"No. We must see that Prince Aemond has done his duty." Said Aegon, their grandfather, however, immediately protested.

"Looking at the bare bodies of someone other than one's spouse is a sin, Your Grace, and we will not be sanctioning such practices in this keep." He said in a voice cold and final, and his brother fell silent.

He felt some kind of relief when at last the silhouettes around them disappeared behind the cream curtains, indistinct and distant, seeming to him to be only a bad dream.

His wife, his hāedar approached him with an expression on her face as if she was ready for battle, and as soon as her hand brushed his jaw, his nose sunk into her warm, soft cheek, his arms embraced her at the waist, seeking refuge.

"Don't give him the satisfaction. Make it so you peak as soon as possible and don't worry about me. I've been wet for you for days and I'll take you inside me with ease." She whispered tenderly, and he felt his manhood pulsate hard, a pleasant shiver running along his spine, giving him hope.

She was on his side.

She had strength and courage when he lacked it.

His wife.

"Come." She whispered further, undoing his belt and the fastenings of his tunic with quiet clicks, while he pulled at the ties of her nightgown in one gentle motion, loosening the whole material, which slipped from her shoulders.

In some natural, affectionate reflex, they began to kiss – her puffy lips were wonderfully sweet and familiar, warm and moist, her saliva melting on his tongue.

He felt a pleasant warmth in his heart and the fact that his erection grew hard at the sight of her naked body, reminding himself of the tension he had felt for days.

He thought that by the fact that it had been so long since he had experienced fulfilment, a few sure thrusts deep into her warm flesh should allow him to do his duty and end it.

He was comforted by this and by the tenderness of her hands, by the way her fingers stroked his hair and neck, pulling off his tunic, his shirt and his breeches, allowing them both to finally remain completely bare.

As she lay on the bed on her back and gave him one, comforting, sweet smile, reaching out her hand to him, he just lay on top of her, looking at her face for a moment, their hands stroking their cheeks tenderly.

"– forgive me –" He whispered in trembling voice, wanting her to know that he was furious that they'd been forced into this, that like her he'd imagined it completely different, that as much as he'd wanted this, he hadn't been able to protect them.

He was afraid that if he resisted his brother, he would take revenge on him, or worse, on her.

"– shhh – put it inside me – make me whole again –" She gasped softly and they both sighed as she spread her thighs in front of him, her hand gently grasping his throbbing erection, directing it to her small slit.

They kissed tenderly, their naked bodies pressed against each other as he slid between her dripping walls with a soft, slow push of his hips – her cunt, true to her word was wonderfully wet and warm, offering him no resistance.

The thought that even if he didn't give her fulfilment, he wouldn't cause her pain either was comforting to him.

He thought he would make it all up to her later.

She moaned softly as he nestled his face against her cheek and began to thrust into her fleshy, throbbing core, the quiet slapping of their naked bodies against each other, her familiar arms, her wonderful scent, her sweet sounds made a pleasant wave of heat surge through his loins, making him completely hard.

He breathed a sigh of relief, thinking only of how long he had waited for this, imagining that he had taken her in the royal gardens on the grass, that she had been unable to resist him despite her determination.

"– hāedar –" He gasped as he felt her fingers clench tighter on his back, sliding down to his buttocks, her hips rolling in response to his increasingly aggressive stabs, her whimpers vulnerable and filled with pleasure as he hit her sweet spot again and again.

"– yes – yes, lēkia, right here –" She mumbled softly into his ear, and he restrained himself with difficulty not to moan, chasing his peak with the loud clicks of her small little cunt.

He was so, so close, he thought with relief.

"– woof, woof – what's that supposed to mean? – I was hoping you'd demonstrate to us how the hound fucks –" He heard his brother's amused voice and froze, feeling his whole body tense up, the pleasant warmth in his lower abdomen turned into a cool wave of humiliation that ran along his back.

"– Your Grace – it's not dignified –" He heard the frustrated voice of their grandfather on the other side.

He felt himself begin to quiver, his lips parted in horror as he felt his erection become half-hard again, unsure what to do, hot tears of despair and shame gathered under his eyelids.

He sighed as he felt her hands simply press his face into the crook of her neck, giving him shelter, her lips placing warm, gentle kisses on his head, her fingers combing through his hair.

He just wanted to fall asleep in her embrace and never wake up again.

"– I'm just worried about my cousin and whether she'll experience pleasure – both she and I know how selfish my brother is – what he's capable of doing to get what he wants –" Aegon said, making heavy, burning tears run down his cheeks one by one, his eyebrows arching in pain as her arms hugged him tighter to her body, wanting to protect him from what was happening.

"– do you trust me? –" She asked so quietly that only he was able to hear her.

He swallowed hard, choking on his own tears, trying not to make a sound.

Did he trust her?

He wished he did.

He nodded and felt her arms push him away, as if she was trying to force him to change position, finally turning him onto his back, sitting on top of him with his soft manhood inside her – she leaned over him, pressing her palms to the sides of his face as if she just wanted to cup his cheeks, while doing it so hard that he stopped hearing anything.

His heart pounded harder when he heard his brother's voice again, but as if from afar, unable to understand the words he had spoken – his wife kissed his forehead and then brushed her lips gently against his, lazily rolling her hips back and forth, teasing him.

His hands rose to her body, to her back, her waist and her hair, stroking her bare skin as if it were something delicate and precious, her sweet breasts pressed against his torso.

Her insides were wonderfully warm, her lips moist and full, her gaze tenderly fixed on his – her thumbs stroked his cheeks, but her hands stayed in the same position, keeping him from listening to what was happening around them.

A pleasant shiver ran down his spine again as the tip of her slick tongue slid invitingly between his lips, licking him in a way from which his cock pulsed aggressively inside her.

She moaned, feeling it, rocking her hips with quiet clicks of her moisture – he bent his legs at the knees, responding to her movements with tentative thrusts, feeling her walls growing tighter again, a quiet sigh escaped his throat as his hands clamped down on her firm breasts.

"– yes – yes, just like that, my sweet husband –" He heard her voice, her face pressed against his neck as her spine curved into the letter s, allowing him to admire the shape of her plump buttocks.

He clamped his hands on them, imposing a fast, rough pace on her, panting hard, trying not to think or be, only to take what was familiar and desired, what he had waited so long for.

He pulled himself up and sat down, wanting to feel her from a different angle, and she put her arms around his head, again covering his ears – he heard them both moan loudly as he began to thrust into her anew, his face snuggled between her beloved, soft breasts, making him feel at home.

"– Aemond – ah, g-gods, yes, yes, yes –" He heard her whimper, her thirsty, leaking cunt soaking him completely every time he slammed into her again and again, opening her violently on the fattest part of his cock, all throbbing with pain.

He was wonderfully close, he knew that – he looked at her, at her beautiful, sweet face, and she kissed him so tenderly and softly that tears ran down his cheeks – he felt the familiar tightness in his stones and breathed a sigh of relief as, with his groan of pleasure, his seed finally spilled inside her, her fleshy walls giving him a few more squeezes, sucking his spend deep inside her.

He heard her breathe a sigh of relief as she placed small, soft kisses on his hair, as if to tell him wordlessly that she was proud of him.

As her hands stroked his head and back, he heard someone's slow footsteps and hisses of pain – he exhaled loudly as the door to his chamber opened and those gathered began to leave.

And then there was silence.

"– are we alone? –" He muttered at last and felt her kiss the top of his head, cuddling him into her body.

"– yes, my love –" She whispered and wanted to say something else, but she didn't, because he burst out in a loud, childish sob.

He snuggled into her, choking on his own tears, feeling them flow and flow and flow, unable to stop it – he heard her hush him tenderly, pressing his face between her breasts, hearing how much he was suffering, how humiliated and weak he felt.

"– shhh – I know – you were so brave –" She whispered, and he wept loudly, thinking that he wasn't a man, that surely she herself would now look at him with pity.

"– forgive me –" He mumbled wearily, and in response her lips kissed his forehead, sweaty from exertion and stress.

"– I have nothing to forgive you for – the King put us in an impossible position, we couldn't behave any other way – your task was much more difficult – a woman can just lie down and wait it out, but it is the man who must desire her despite what is happening around him – Aegon wanted to humiliate you but he failed – calm down, brother, breathe – there is nothing more he can do to us –" She said and he just listened to her, panting hard, needing her words, her reassurances like air.

"– he did it again – mocked me again –" He blurted out with difficulty.

"– he heard that what you were doing to me gave me pleasure, and that's why he said all those awful things – he is jealous, brother, because he knows that no woman will ever desire him again – that it is your children who will sit on the Iron Throne –" She said tenderly and he swallowed hard.

"– ours –" He corrected her and heard her smile, stroking his head tenderly.

"– ours –" She hummed and he nestled closer to her, brushing her bare back with his fingers, his soft erection still deep inside her.

He didn't want to slid it out of her yet, because he felt safe in her warm, fleshy body.

"– I ruined our wedding night – I didn't give you fulfillment –" He whispered, and she shook her head.

"– we both know that our wedding night was the night before you flew out to Rook's Rest – that's when I lost my maidenhood and became yours – my fulfillment can wait, just as you patiently waited for me for many days –" She said softly, and for some reason he felt relief.

He sniffed with his nose and let her go when he felt her wanting to get up from his lap, gently sliding his warm, soft manhood out of her – he immediately turned away from her and lay on his side, curling up so that he lifted his knees almost under his chin, embracing his legs with his arms.

He was not a man or a lover, he was nobody, he thought, whooping with tears again, unable to calm down.

Woof, woof.

He pressed his lips together when he felt her soft body lay behind him, her breasts pressed against his back, her arms embracing his waist, stroking his musclar stomach – he closed his eyes as her mouth placed a moist, loud kiss on the back of his head.

"– iksan kesīr, valzȳrys (I'm here, husband) – aōha ābrazȳrys iksis ondoso aōha paktot (your wife is by your side) –" She whispered, and he exaled, gently taking her hands in his, entwining their fingers together.

He swallowed hard when he heard her open her mouth, her fingertips stroking his skin soothingly.

Sleep my baby on my bosom Warm and cozy will it prove Round thee mother’s arms are folding In her heart a mother’s love

There shall no one come to harm thee Naught shall ever break thy rest Sleep my darling babe in quiet Sleep on mother’s gentle breast.

He felt that this time it was a tears of emotion that ran down his hot cheeks – his chest was rising and falling in heavy breaths, hearing how warm and melodious her voice was.

He wasn't sure if his mother had ever sung lullabies to him, but the fact that she did it now to soothe and comfort him, made a wonderful, warm feeling spread through his heart.

He swallowed hard as silence fell around them – his thumb brushed the soft skin of her hand, only three pleading words leaving his mouth.

"Sing some more."

[gguk-n]

Hi could please write one where the reader is bengali and celebrates Durga Puja with Lando in india ( ollie or kimi works too but I'm not sure if you write for them)?

I did a ‘spin the wheel’ and got Ollie.

Puja Vibes

Ollie was as white as white gets and his girlfriend was the embodiment of the Bengali culture prancing around. She had helped Oliver expand his horizon; taught him new experiences and delicious food. She will argue, that there’s no dessert like Bengali dessert.

So, when it was time for Y/N to return home for Durga Puja, Ollie would be joining her too since he had no races or prior commitments.

They hadn’t dated for long but Ollie had showered her with gifts on Christmas and taught her all his family traditions. Y/N just wanted to do the same for him.

At the airport, they landed together with Ollie in tow who was enamoured by the hustle and bustle of the city. He saw cows crossing the road like it was another Tuesday and no one batted an eye. Y/N pointed out all the building explaining the significance and the reason behind their construction during the colonial era on the way to her home.

At home, preparations for Durga Puja were in full swing. Y/N’s uncle and aunt had decorated their house ornately. Oliver greeted everyone.

The festivities would start the next day. Everyone was up bright and early for the invocation (bodhon) Oliver was mesmerised by the shining lights and the bright colours and the beautiful way Goddess Durga was dressed.

The main event was Maha Ashtami which Y/N’s father had great pleasure in explaining to Oliver. Oliver was like a kid in a candy store; eyes wide open and mesmerised by the events unfolding in front of him.

You would find the poor boy following Y/N around like a lost puppy. It was adorable watching him hold onto her saree palo as she walked in front of him. “Lemme hold your hand” Ollie whined. “Everyone is here for the festival. What will the elder’s think?” Y/N reasoned. In Indian culture, blatant show of affection was frowned upon especially in the older generations, the younger ones couldn’t care less. That’s why Ollie was walking around holding her palo.

They were stood next to each other while Y/N’s mother made the preparations for Maha Ashtami. “Your dress looks so beautiful. Red truly is your colour” Ollie said. “Thank you babe” she said. “How did you do this?” He asked playing with the folds. “My mum helped. I’m still pretty bad at tying a saree” she said. “Is that what it’s called? A saree” he said enunciating each word. “Yup, it’s an Indian traditional wear but everyone wraps the cloth around them differently, depending on the region of the country” she explained. His mouth formed an O in understanding.

They finished up the celebration with all the rituals being done and Oliver asking way too many questions each step of the way.

On the last day after Vijaya Dashami, after the immersion in the water everyone returned back home, exhausted by the events of the past days when Y/N’s cousin showed her a video; actually a few.

One video, had Ollie following her around like a lost puppy. The other one was of him holding her palo so as to not get lost. And the last one was straight out of a Shah Rukh Khan movie where Ollie’s watch had gotten stuck in her palo and he tried to free himself while actively trying to follow her and not let her know that he might fray her outfit. Eventually, he did free himself but his eyes never left her as he walked behind her.

She showed the video to Ollie and the Shah Rukh Khan scene from Om Shanti Om. Ollie was seen laughing, “didn’t know I would be getting my Bollywood moment this year during Puja” she said. “I’m happy I could be of service, m’lady” he said tipping his imaginary hat. “I would still have loved if it was Shah Rukh Khan” she teased. “Wow! I can’t believe this.” He acted hurt with his hand on his chest. “You are unbelievable.” She muttered pressing her lips on his cheeks. “Don’t try to bribe me with kisses” he huffed. “I’m not. I love you my cute little bear” she cooed. “I’m not cute” he huffed again. “Sure, my rasgulla” she laughed pinching his cheeks. “I like that dessert. Can I have some more?” He replied lost in thought. “I’m sure my mother will find great pleasure in feeding you” she said laughing. “Let’s go” she said pulling him along. “I love you Y/N.” Ollie called out while being dragged along. “I love you too” she replied turning to look at him.

Y/N’s family cooed at them, young love

Hope you liked it! I tried my best

[bueckers-babygirl]

It's just a haircut (chris sturniolo x black!reader)

Summary: Blurb of Chris needing a haircut

Warning: Cussing

“Noooooo” Chris says screaming into his pillow. “Baby, please! It’s getting too long” you say as I run my fingers through his long hair. 

“I like it like this! It gives me power” he claims, sitting up against his headboard. “I like your hair like this too! But it’s getting into your eyes” you yell as i push his hair out of his face. “What the hell are you guys screaming about” Nick says, walking into Chris’s room. “I want to cut his hair because he literally can’t see and he doesn’t want me to” I stand up, trying to defend myself. 

“I don’t get why she wants to get it in the first place! She loves my long hair…for multiple reasons” he says with a smirk. “Ew! Shut the fuck up! Don’t say that shit to me” Nick says with a disgusted look on his face. 

“Why are you guys screaming,” Matt says with a laugh. “Chris needs his haircut,” you and Nick say simultaneously. Matt turns and looks at Chris. “Kid, just let her cut your hair,” Matt says, trying to reason.

Chris groans as he places his face back into his pillow. You let out a sigh as you sit next to him. “How about I keep it long, but I just cut to the point that it’s not in your damn face” I try to negotiate. “Besides, you act like I don’t do my own hair and everyone else in my family! I got a whole subtle braiding business at this point.”

Chris finally lifts his head, remembering how you do braids, locs, twists, natural, etc. He finally lets out a sigh and gives in to you doing his hair. 

That Night

“Does it look good?” Chris asks, holding your hips as you stand in front of him, cut the front of his hair. “Yes, Chris. This is officially the sixth time you’ve asked me” he lets a laugh and than an apology as you finish his hair and blowdry it.

 “And…we’re done” you step back and look at your work proudly. You step aside to let chris look at his hair. As he looked in the mirror, he was shocked at how amazing his hair looked. “Wait! Why did you actually do a good job” he laughs, running his fingers through is hair. You roll your eyes as you give him a kiss on the head. “That’ll be $150 sir” Chris eyes go wide as he looks up at you. “How about I pay you with kisses” he says raising his eyebrows with a smirk. You let out an ‘aww’ as you lean down and give him a kiss on the lips. “I’ll take cash app.”

Ive never written for the triplets! But I was bored so here yall go <3

[thomas-jefferson-miku-binder]

I hate Mel Medarda discourse because she’s an insanely well-written character with a lot of depth, but people almost always have only two things to say about her: 1) evil girlboss or 2) never did anything wrong. both make me want to krill myself 🦐

In front of you, there’s a female character born of war who rejects the physical brutality of her family’s name and the regime she was born under. except said violence never really goes away because if it ever does leave, nothing else would remain

This character can and will reproduce the hatred she has always known, just in more palpable ways, ways where she’s allowed to look away — or even better, ways where she’s so distanced from the action itself that where she “looks” doesn’t even matter

It’s also so interesting to think that maybe Mel doesn’t dislike physical violence because it’s “bad” but simply because she does not excel at it The thought that if Mel was maybe stronger or a more skilled fighter, she would be just like her mother tickles my brain. yaaaas Although, to me, that's a more "what-if" scenario than the actual characterization Arcane deceipts

By the way, I do not think Mel is a monster. She clearly does try to be what she considers a "good" person, but the violence she’s always known sometimes escapes (just like in the Viktor scene above — she does not like to be disagreed with).

Sooo insane that she’s a diplomat/politician because yes. what other job in the world would allow her to exercise that repressed violence while also giving her the sense of duty—of goodness.

Mel is stuck at the scene of the execution form her childhood. All she does is repeat the same scenario in her head with different outcomes: sometimes one where she saves the prisoner, another where she doesn’t hesitate (that being the keyword here) to kill her

This reverberation of the violence she suffered is just her manner of coping with that traumatic scene. a way of lessening the pain without actually confronting its cause.

I feel like I need to clarify that no, I do not think Mel is “evil”. I don’t even think she is intentionally manipulative (most of the time), I think she handles people the only way she knows how to, which is probably one of the only reasons she survived Noxus at all (as, to how I see it, there's only a certain extent your House will guarantee your protection in Noxus).

I know the fandom talks a lot about Viktor and Jayce being idealistic, but I rarely see people mention how Mel is just as romantic. Jesus- that’s literally a huge source of conflict with her mother: Ambessa thinks Mel is naive, which to her means weakness, which to her is unacceptable.

I hate that Mel Medarda is forced to be subjected to fandom spaces, because, no, she is not a small bean. no, she’s not an evil girlboss.

Do I believe she is a good person? I think she tries to be (even if her notion of goodness is so heavily aligned with honor, too), and that tells me a lot more about her character than how successful she is at it

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Book Report: Royal Audience

Welcome to another semi-recurring feature, where I read the royal books so you don’t have to.

A new royal book has recently been published. This one I found at my library in the “new books”/“this just in” section.

It’s about the Special Relationship between the US and the UK, focusing mainly on The Queen’s relationship with the POTUS.

There’s a lot of history and international politics discussed, but I found it an easy, enjoyable read. I do wish the photographs had been in color instead of black and white so it’d be easier to see the details, which are often discussed in the text. One thing that quickly became clear while reading is that of the men whom are considered The Queen’s favorites, the only thing they all have in common is that they gave attention to and supported the whole family at-large, like hosting Charles or Anne, being friendly with Margaret, giving opportunities for Philip to visit solo, etc. The POTUSes that just gave attention to The Queen and Philip weren’t as successful as nurturing the Special Relationship.

So without further ado, anecdotes about The Queen’s Presidents:

Hoover: The Queen never formally met him “in office,” but she sat next to him at dinner once in the ‘50s.

Wilson: The Queen never met him but he did visit George V at Windsor Castle (the first POTUS invited to Windsor) and that visit set the tone for many of the POTUSes’ visits to The Queen.

FDR: Another POTUS that The Queen never met, but her parents did. George VI and the Queen Mother were the first reigning monarchs to visit the US in 1939 and it was a smashing success. While the Americans have always had an affinity for the BRF, it was this tour (in which FDR and Eleanor served the royals their first hot dogs) that cemented how much Americans supported, or would show up for, the royals if/when they came to visit:

As the Washington Post once wrote, “She’s not our queen but before we’re through with her, she’ll probably think she is” and as Obama once quipped to Charles: “it’s fair to say that the American people are quite fond of the royal family…they like them much better than they like their own politicians.”

Truman was POTUS when Elizabeth and Philip had their first official tour of the US in October 1951 as Duchess and Duke of Edinburgh. The trip, conducted as part of a visit to Canada, was delayed due to King George’s lung surgery and resulted in Elizabeth and Philip taking the BRF’s first international flight. Apparently everyone was so nervous about the flight that the Royal Navy deployed battleships every 700 nautical miles across the Atlantic just in case. By taking the flight, the royals were only a week behind schedule and they sailed home with 97 pieces of luggage.

Eisenhower: the Eisenhower were considered family friends by the royals. He remains the only POTUS to be invited to Balmoral and Elizabeth sent him her personal recipe for drop scones which - yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus - is published in the book, for all you home bakers. The Queen made her first state visit to the US under Eisenhower coinciding with the 350th anniversary of the Jamestown Colony (a trip Her Majesty would repeat 50 years later for the 400th anniversary and made me late to school but that’s another story for later). This state visit is what finally knocked Sputnik off the American front pages.

Kennedy: If you watched the Kennedy episodes of The Crown’s Season 2, you can skip this chapter. Kennedy once met a young Princess Elizabeth though, when his father was the US ambassador.

Johnson: The Queen never met Johnson in person. LBJ didn’t like traveling and preferred to focus on domestic affairs and Vietnam. But Princess Margaret did meet LBJ while on a visit to the US, which is also chronicled on The Crown, which the author takes great pains to mention is fiction because Margaret and LBJ never actually did kiss 🙄. LBJ and The Queen were friendly in letters though.

Nixon: hosted The Queen’s very first Thanksgiving dinner when he visited London in November 1958 (while Eisenhower’s VP) to open the American Memorial Chapel at St. Paul’s Cathedral. The Queen’s acceptance of the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner caused such a consternation because Nixon hadn’t lacked a tuxedo that all the men in the American delegation who had traveled with him and worked at the embassy were measured to find someone from whom Nixon could borrow a tuxedo. Nixon’s visit to Buckingham Palace in February 1969 was the first time that color film was used at the palace.

Ford: hosted The Queen and Philip during the US’s bicentennial celebrations. It is considered to be one of The Queen’s most successful visits/tours. The tour was in July 1976 and if you know East Coast summer weather, you have an idea already what the weather was like. First there were rough seas that made even Philip seasick (they flew from London to Bermuda, then sailed on Britannia from Bermuda to Philly). Then there was humid muggy heat in Philly that The Queen was fanning herself often. And then in DC, it was even swampier with daytime temps of 100F in the shade. The bicentennial visit later became the theme of The Queen’s 1976 Christmas message - reconciliation.

Carter: Carter was the POTUS most considered to be The Queen’s peer since they were closest in age, and that’s about the only thing they had in common. He horribly offended The Queen Mother by kissing her at the G7, hosted Princess Anne on her first solo trip to the US (wherein she shocked the press by being more like Philip in her temperament than The Queen), and personally lobbied Westminster Abbey to include his favorite poet - Dylan Thomas - in Poets Corner. His wife, Rosalyn, is the only FLOTUS The Queen didn’t meet.

Reagan: After Eisenhower, probably the POTUS The Queen was closest to, over their shared love of horses. Their relationship reminds me of the classic “introvert adopted by extroverts” trope (albeit in its own unique way). The Reagans’ first trip to the UK was chaotic in its planning with offenses left and right that made Margaret Thatcher reel. Charles and Nancy had a wonderful relationship and were close for the rest of her life.

Bush 41: Bush (another peer who of similar demographics to The Queen; they were just a few years apart in age, he served in WW2 with a career that reminded her of Philip’s, each had four surviving children, their eldest sons were relatively the same age) was favorite POTUS #3 after Eisenhower and Reagan. The relationship started off rocky, but it was Pickles - a puppy from the Bushes’ dog given to a friend whom The Queen had visited - that smoothed everything over and the two couples got along well. The Queen’s official visit under Bush 41 began with the infamous ‘talking hat’ speech and saw her take in her first baseball game. It was proposed that Philip should throw the first pitch out but The Queen nixed it, though she did join Bush for a little walkabout on the field before the game started. (Boo. I would’ve rather liked to see Philip throw the first pitch. I bet he’d have thrown a strike without any practice.)

Clinton: Clinton prioritized the relationship with Blair more than with The Queen, which ended up salvaging the Special Relationship after Blair’s predecessor (John Major) practically blew it up by getting involved in the 1992 POTUS election when he/his government campaigned for Bush. But Clinton came around to The Queen in the end. Clinton is notably the first president who was younger than The Queen and I suspect his presidency marked a change in how The Queen approached the special relationship.

And also, there’s a very good chance that this chapter illustrates Meghan’s obsession with Hillary Clinton - Diana and Hillary had a good enough friendship, even if only a working relationship, that Diana co-chaired a White House breakfast with Hillary. The book also points out that much of Diana’s post-BRF work in the US took place in the Clinton administration, so now I’m wondering if perhaps Meghan sees the Clintons as a partial extension of Diana’s network and that’s why she tries so hard with Hillary. (And also there’s the obvious that Hillary knew/met Diana so maybe Meghan has been trying to court Hillary to be part of the “Meghan is just like Diana” fan club.)

Bush 43: had the first official full state visit of The Queen’s reign, which was also only the second state visit by a US President (Wilson in 1918). There were significant security concerns due to the War on Terror and this is also when the Daily Mail’s reporter was a footman for 2 months; the reporter broke his own cover to report on the state visit. The Queen had her final state visit to the US in May 2007 as part of the celebrations for the 400th anniversary of Jamestown. (Her visit was the unofficial kickoff to the official celebrations, which began the week after.)

I didn’t know this, but The Queen personally donated a significant sum to the 9/11 memorial funds. Also The Queen enjoys Mexican food. A lady after my own heart!

Obama: Obama’s relationship with Britain began cool, owing to family tragedy closely connected with British colonialism in Kenya. He and the PM at the time, Brown, didn’t seem to get on, but The Queen stepped in and it’s thought her gentleness with the Obamas is what softened Obama’s consideration of the British. I do believe that Obama was the first head of state to see The Queen as more a grandmotherly figure and that helped boost The Queen’s global reputation (Bush 43 and Clinton saw her as motherly, and everyone through Bush 41 saw her as a contemporary/peer).

In the epilogue, the author writes that he believes Obama was favorite POTUS #4. I think the Obamas had a special friendship with The Queen, but sometimes I feel like it was more of mentorship, with The Queen showing them a generous kindness they weren’t expecting that led to both of them learning from her what it means to be diplomatic without losing sense of themselves.

Trump: His working visit in 2018 and the state visit in 2019 both were preceded by chaos and politics. A lot of people looked to The Queen’s symbolism in her outfits for how she felt about him. Trump held The Queen in high esteem, which she seemed to reciprocate diplomatically, but he had waffling views on Britain itself and that seemed to affect how the Special Relationship was managed (ie one day they were allies, the next day, Trump was assailing the mayor of London on Twitter).

Biden: No one quite knew what to do with him. He had proud Irish heritage so everyone thought he wouldn’t regard Britain well, but at the same time, Biden was outspoken against Brexit and Boris Johnson, which aligned with mainstream feelings of the day, so they weren’t sure how the wind was going to blow. But the Special Relationship prevailed, with Biden in a unique position that saw him speaking more about the generosity and the humanity of The Queen given what was happening to her - first the COVID protocols, then Oprah interview, then Philip’s passing, then her own illness.

(Biden is in the “Queen as motherly” club with Clinton and Bush 43.)

[cherrivixx]

okay. messy colour exploration stuff. you ever wonder about the fey sisters like. childhood ?? i do.

thoughts under the cut :)

design stuff in general -- theyre in front of the fey manor in kurain village, theyre about 5 & 15 here respectively. obi sashes of the yukata are based off their magatama colours, was lazy with the patterns and just used some pattern brushes that look similar enough to other yukata patterns.

on the frame in the bottom right corner theres a tiny little fingerprint -- couldnt find maya, pearl, or mia's so i used phoenix's lol

their hairstyles are based off the picture with the broken ami fey urn, but its weird since its just their normal hairstyles ??? then again ive had pretty much two hairstyles in my life as well and the only real difference there is length and hair dye.

anyways thoughts about THEM -- since misty/elise left, morgan mustve raised them, right ?? but mia would have left at say, 18, then maya would have been like 8 when she left, and then all the stuff with like how the master of kurain stuff would have been handled -- i dont think mia was coming back. i dont think mia ever DID come back, actually. i wonder if maya knew this, if she realised even before mia died that she was gonna have to be the master. and with dahlia and iris, did mia play with them when they were kids, i wonder i wonder...when did mia know that she had to leave, did she ever realise about how much morgan was willing to do ?? did morgan ever hope that iris or dahlia was gonna be the next master, or did she realise they didnt have much spiritual power from a young age ??? did mia ever meet pearl ??? im so obsessed with the feys. such an interesting family.

[lunarriviera]

hi hey hello i have started watching a new crime drama and I AM OBSESSED. it's called 雪迷宫 or, for some reason, The First Shot, although it should be more properly Snow Maze. it's a period piece set in 1997 and it's produced by ZHANG YIMOU which must be why the production values are actually good??? anyway i am here to tell you all about it and why you should be watching it okay here we go

first of all there's a big hot dumb cop, zheng bei. yes that's huang jingyu and you might not like him because of his apparently quite sketchy personal life but all i care about in this case is that he's tall, and thoughtful, and a police captain who's protective of his people and a little bit of an idiot. my catnip tbh. (i guess he was in addicted too? somehow breaking the you-can-only-be-in-one-BL rule?)

(ETA that by "dumb" of course he's not dumb at all, only by comparison; cf. my own stupid meta on this fascinating topic)

then there's an effete genius consultant, gu yiran (wang ziqi), who knows everything there is to know about drugs. he comes from the south to help these ignorant northerners form an anti-narcotics unit. he's such a massive nerd, the team doesn't like him until they realize that he runs 10k every morning and can outrun motorcycles and is actually quite useful. then suddenly it's no longer "gu-laoshi" but is all "ran-ge" this and "ran-ge" that. he can't dance for shit. i adore him.

there's a superb seven-samurai style Assembling The Team sequence in which this cop is brought in as the muscle. Her nickname is mad dog yao and she kicks the ass of an entire club at one point. we love her. her only problem is that, not unlike zhang haixing in tibetan sea flower, she will in fact fight a wall. here's gu yiran's face after a drug dealer mistakenly underestimates her and she stomps on him.

one of my favorite things about this drama so far is how poor the police are. it's 1997 in a dinky northern precinct and these cops ain't got shit. no computers. rudimentary cellphones. barely any forenic analysis, and most of that is on pieces of paper. no bullpen. no interrogation rooms. they have to interview suspects at their desks.

captain zheng is so underpaid he can't even afford a real pointer for his situation board, he has to go outside and get a literal stick.

drives his dad's chicken delivery van. has to slam himself against the front door to open it. everything about this is absolutely perfect.

i'm only on episode 7 but this shit is already brotastic. please behold:

yes that is an actual line from the show. yes gu yiran has to live with captain zheng, they can't afford fancy accommodations for him. turns out there's a trundle bed made out of paper clips but that's okay, they still get plenty of cosy domestic time together.

and that's also what i already love about this drama—in spite of being about anti-narcotics, it's also very slice of life, very daily city life, with meals and neighbors and friends and family and did i mention food, there is so much eating in this drama. it's gorgeous. also i'm improving my colloquial chinese by leaps and bounds.

of course you are you stupid service top, now take care of the baby.

and those are just some of the reasons why you should be watching the first shot, which is funny and suspenseful and unexpectedly brainy and well-cast and has beautiful opening credits. there are 19 episodes on youku's youtube channel right now and the subs are shockingly high quality. i'm hooked, and also so mad at my day job because i can't just binge it, pls join me in this handbasket

[meraki-yao]

Dropping in to say your crying at the vows Payneland was SUPERB! Is it too late for 🤬 Payneland? If so no stress at all! Your writing is awesome!

Hi! Oh my God, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the last one! Thank you for the prompt and sorry for this being late!

🤬Argument with a family member

This is a human/alive AU by the way!

TW: Paul Rowland being a homophobic, abusive asshole, homophobic slurs

Charles freezes, his fiancé’s hand tightening on his arm. Standing in front of their wedding venue entrance, arguing with the security, is his father who he hasn’t seen in years. After struggling through university on his own and meeting Edwin Payne, he took off and ran far away from home, cutting all contact with his parents while building a new home with the love of his life. A few years down the line, he and Edwin created a cipher to communicate with his mother. But throughout all of this, they have deliberately steered clear of his father. His father, who beat him senseless; his father, who locked his lanky teenage self in the basement that he lived in since he was five; his father, who nearly ripped his pierce off his ear, calling him homophobic slur years before he came to terms with his bisexuality. After Charles confessed his trauma after a particularly violent nightmare, Edwin had held him and promised that he would never let Paul Rowland near him ever again. Charles had gripped his boyfriend’s waist and promised the same: he cannot ever let his father lay a hand on sweet, gentle, loving Edwin. But he’s here now, at their rehearsal dinner, and he can’t help but freeze at the sight. Why? How? What is he doing here? How did he find him out after so long? What do I do now? Charles’ eyes meet his dad’s and the next thing he knows, Paul Rowland is pushing the security guard to the ground and comes marching their way, the rage on his face horrifyingly familiar. He has to move, he has to leave, he has to protect Edwin— But he can’t move. He’s frozen in place, legs turned to jelly. He wants to scream and cry but only quick puffs of breaths come out. Just before his dad can shout a curse at them, Edwin suddenly steps forward, pushing Charles behind him. “Excuse me, sir.” He says eerily calmly, which is a sign that he’s actually angry. “I don’t believe you’re invite to this function. You are trespassing right now, please kindly leave the premise before we have to call the authorities.” “Move out of the way, you fag. I’m here to talk to my son.” Paul Rowland growls, and Charles flinches, he wants to grab Edwin’s hand and run. “As you can clearly see, Charles does not want to talk to you. Now, leave.” Edwin continue, not phased by the slur. “CHARLES! YOU FUCKING USELESS PIECE OF SHIT, HIDING BEHIND A FAIRY?” The familiar roar rings in Charles’ ear. He can’t fucking breathe oh God oh fuck— BAM! Edwin, his sweet Edwin who has always gravitated to words, who he has tried to get into boxing without much success, punches his dad square in the jaw. Both Rowlands stare at him in shock. “YOU FUCKER! HOW DARE YOU—” “No, you listen here.” Edwin states, a dangerous edge in his voice. “We have given you multiple warnings. I will not allow you to come here, ruin our joyous occasion and do any harm to my fiancé, physical or otherwise. The police can deal with you now, we’re done here.” He lays a hand on Charles’ back, gentle despite the situation, and leads him away as the police who have finally arrived come and pull his dad away for questioning. They’ll need to provide their recount too, but Edwin insisted that they’ll deal with that later. They enter the dressing room of the venue where Charles collapses onto a chair. Edwin kneels before him, hand cupping his cheek, thumb swiping under his eyes. “Charles, please tell me what’s going on.” “No, it’s nothing, I’ll be fine I— Holy shit, Edwin, you punched my dad!” “Yes well, I very well couldn’t stand there and let him cause you even more distress, and he was clearly not going to listen to a word I say, sometimes actions do speak louder than words.” Charles pulls Edwin into his lap and wraps his arm around his waist, nose buried in his neck, breathing the familiar scent. Edwin’s hand goes to his curls as he presses kisses on to the top of his head. God, how lucky is he, to have such a wonderful person to call his? “We’ll be alright, my love,” Edwin whispers. “I promise, we’ll be alright.” Charles has never doubted him.

[aplaceinme]

Buck was the one who proposed to Tommy. He did it at their home, a house that they bought together and little by little fixed until it became the home they never really had before. 

He decided to do it on their usual date night so that Tommy wouldn't suspect anything was amiss. Buck cooked Tommy’s favourite dishes, and he even bought the expensive wine.  The table was set with a bouquet of flowers he picked up and with candles.

 While he was cooking and setting the table, Buck kept touching his pocket to make sure he had the ring with him. He had went to the jewellery with Eddie, and had picked a simple white gold band with diamonds. 

Once Tommy had arrived, he had been pleasantly surprised by the set up, and had thanked Buck profusely, all the while not knowing what was to come.

It wasn’t until they had finished the main course and were about to start with dessert that Buck got on one knee and proposed.

The actual proposal was a beautiful and heartfelt speech that Buck had previously prepared. He told Tommy how much he loved him, how happy he was with him, and how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. He had closed the speech with a line based on one of the scenes of Tommy’s favourite romcom, which he had made Buck watch several times. 

“I’m just a guy, standing in front of another guy, asking him to marry me.” 

Crying and chuckling, Tommy had, of course, said yes. 

The ceremony was small, with only their closest friends and family members invited. Bobby officiated it, with Eddie as Buck’s best man and Lucy as Tommy’s.  By the end of the ceremony, everyone had shed some tears.

While at the party, before the cake was cut, Tommy went up to the little stage that had been set up with a guitar in hand. Since Buck had been the one who proposed, he wanted to surprise him and do something for him on their wedding day. 

So, Tommy started playing the song, ‘Calico Skies’ by Paul McCartney. 

“It was written that I would love you

From the moment I opened my eyes

And the morning when I first saw you

Gave me life under calico skies

I will hold you for as long as you like

I'll hold you for the rest of my life…”

Once the song ended, Buck had tears in his eyes. He went up the stage and kissed his husband passionately. They both couldn’t wait to start living their happily ever after as husbands. After all, you don’t find it… You make it.

[exhuastedpigeon]

Lemme help with those Hockey AUs...

👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽👨🏽

🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒🏒

Kenna I knew I could count on you.

39 for 👨🏽(ps this fic was inspired by your manip of hockey player Eddie with a moustache)

Where Buck’s mustache is still pretty light, Eddie’s is dark and lush and honestly, Buck wants to put his mouth on it. 

Which is not the way he’s supposed to think about his teammate. 

Even if that teammate is also Buck’s secret husband. Emphasis on the secret part. While they were out to the team and their family and friends, they weren’t out publicly at the advice of their agent and the Kings front office. 

But Buck might accidentally out them this November if he didn’t get himself under control. It was just, Eddie looked kind of insanely hot with a mustache. This wasn't the first November he’d known Eddie, in fact this wasn’t even the first November where he’d been in a relationship with Eddie. It was just, this November something seemed different. 

“Why are you staring at me,” Eddie asked with a laugh on November 5th. His mustache was already looking thick and sexy, unlike Buck’s which was still a little patchy and definitely too blond to look good right now. 

“I like the mustache,” Buck said with a shrug, trying (and failing) to sound casual about it. 

“Oh, you do?” Eddie stopped buttoning his shirt so he could turn around and look at Buck directly instead of in the mirror. 

“Y-yeah,” Buck couldn’t take his eyes off of it and here in the safety of their bedroom he was allowed to look, so why should he stop. 

“If you managed to keep out of the box tonight, I’ll let you do whatever you want to my mustache.”

“Whatever I want?”

“Well, within reason,” Eddie laughed. “We have to get on a plane and fly to Boston tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, I can stay out of the box,” Buck said confidently, even though there was a very good chance he was lying. It wasn’t his fault they were playing the Ducks. Everyone knew the Ducks sucked, that was just a fact of life. The sky is blue. Eddie Diaz is the love of Evan Buckley’s life. The Ducks stopped being cool in 2006 when they changed their name from the Mighty Ducks to just the Ducks. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie laughed and pressed a kiss to Buck’s mouth. Buck had expected the mustache to tickle, but he found he actually liked the feeling of it against his skin. Oh god, did he have a mustache kink that had somehow only now unlocked in him?

(He didn’t manage to stay out of the box, but Eddie let it slide because Buck had only gotten thrown in the box after he’d dropped gloves with Jonah Greenway after he ran Chimney in the crease.) 

–

“Someone on Twitter called Eddie’s mustache the gayest thing they’ve ever seen in the NHL and, this is a direct quote, that’s impressive because hockey is the most homoerotic sport to ever exist,” Chimney said on November 13th. They were on the world’s shortest flight from Long Island to Philly and Chimney was entertaining them by reading funny tweets about the team. 

“Everything I do is gay,” Eddie said without opening his eyes. He’d played over thirty-five minutes in their game the night before after Millsy had blocked a shot with his face, so Eddie was so exhausted that Buck could feel it radiating off of him. 

It wasn’t like Buck hadn’t played an extra few minutes last night too, but Eddie was a left handed defenceman and so was Millsy, so Eddie had done a lot of double shifting. It had paid off, they’d won the game by one goal. 

“Is your mustache this season extra glorious and sexy this year because you’re fully embracing your gay-ness?” Chimney asked and coming from anyone else Buck knew Eddie would have been a little annoyed, but Chimney was - well he was Chimney. He was always in their corner even when he was pissed at them. 

“Probably,” Eddie smiled, eyes still closed. “Maybe I’ll dress up as Freddie Mercury and post a picture saying we have more than just a mustache in common.”

Buck’s brain short circuited for a second at the mental image of Eddie dressed up like Freddie Mercury, but he was thankfully pulled from that thought before it got not safe for work when Chimney spoke again.

and 39 for 🏒 under the cut

They’re tied 1-1 in the third period against the Ducks when Buck lays a hit on Smith along the boards in the natural zone, knocking him off the puck long enough for Eddie and his fucking beautiful hands to gain possession. Buck grins at Smith as he pushes off of him and follows behind his defense partner, entering the zone two seconds after him. Buck back checks the Duck’s defender that’s coming up behind him to keep him away from the puck and give Eddie another second to put the puck on net. 

And here’s the thing, Buck knows their team is good - they’re the second best team in the western conference right now. It’s like Eddie was the missing piece they’d needed to really take them up to the next level, but in the middle of a game he isn’t thinking about that. All he’s thinking about is that he needs to give the guys the best chance they have to score. Eddie sends the puck back to Mateo and screens the goalie as Mateo passes the puck to Buck at the point to reset the play. 

It’s like it happens in slow motion - Buck takes a shot from the point, not because he thinks he’s going to score, but because he wants to get the puck to the net so they can try to score on the rebound. Except the rebound doesn’t come. Instead, Eddie tips Buck’s shot, redirecting it over Gibson’s shoulder on his stick side, sending the puck into the back of the net.

The ref signals that it’s a goal and before the horn can sound, Eddie is on him, practically tackling him to the ice in celebration. Buck wraps his arms around Eddie on instinct, holding him close as TK, Paul, and Mateo crash into them.

"You're a fucking beauty, Buckley," Eddie says, his mouth pressed against Buck neck in a hug.

They manage to hold onto the lead and when Chim insists on taking everyone out for a drink after because they held onto the lead and didn’t let their defensive play slip even when they were winning. Buck says yes without second thought. He’s expecting most of the younger guys to come out with them, the ones without wives and girlfriends at home. The ones without kids waiting for them. 

He’s expecting Eddie to say he needs to get home to Chris. He isn’t expecting Eddie to say, “I’m in.”

“Is Carla staying late?” Buck asks quietly as they change after cooling down and showering. 

“Shannon’s got him tonight,” Eddie says just as quietly. Buck’s pretty sure the only other person who knows about Eddie’s complicated relationship with his ex is Coach, for some reason being in on that secret, to have earned that kind of confidence from Eddie, makes Buck warm all over. 

“Well then it’s dad’s night out, huh?” Buck grins and slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders even though they both smell fucking rank and they should really hit the showers. 

“There aren’t many nights where we win, we don’t have a game for five whole days, and I don’t have to rush home to relieve the babysitter,” Eddie grins right back. “Let’s go get fucking hammered, Buck.”

They’re in the locker room surrounded by their teammates. There’s at least two reporters in the room with them right now. Buck can see Ravi has his phone out and is probably live on Instagram. None of it matters, not with the way Eddie’s smiling at him. Not with the way Eddie pulls Buck into his orbit and keeps him there whenever he’s in the room. 

“I-I think everyone is going to get hammered,” Buck says, eyes on Eddie’s mouth because he can’t seem to stop himself. 

“Yeah, but I’ll be doing it with you,” Eddie says and then he ducks out from under Buck’s arm with a laugh. “Come on, we gotta shower. I bet you smell worse than Sid’s lucky jock.”

make me write

[judes-hoe]

Timeless Desires~KM9

Parrings ~ Kylian Mbappé x reader

Summary ~ Your a pro ice skater in Madrid, when you heard the famous Kylian Mbappé was coming to Madrid you followed him, and he followed you too. So what happens when he finally lands in Madrid?

Warnings ~ guess what…there’s a little kissy kissy🤭🤭

A/N ~ part five finally😭 ME?!?!! POSTING? Crazyyyy

Pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kylian checks in for the reservations he made. He then leads you to the table with his hand on the small of your back. He pulls out your chair for you and pushes it in when you sit. He then takes the seat across from you.

The waiter comes and gives you your menus while also taking your drink orders. Kylian ordered you both waters, the waiter leaves and it’s just the two of you again. Kylian looks at you and admires as you read the menu.

“I am truly sorry about last night and this morning, I don’t know what came over me. Maybe the fact that you turned down the date to hang out with cama.” He said looking at you. “Kylian it’s fine really, we all have those moments.” You said looking at him from your menu.

Kylian just nods before looking at his menu. “This place has the best Pasta Carbonara, I get it every time.” He spoke placing his menu back down. “What are you gonna get?” He asked looking at you. “I think I’m gonna get the chicken Alfredo, it’s one of my favorite pastas and looks really good.” You said looking at him and placing your menu down.

Kylian just looks and admires how pretty you are. “You know staring isn’t polite.” You joke. “Well it is when I’m admiring something pretty.” He smiles. His words make you blush and let out a soft laugh.

The waiter comes back and takes your orders before leaving again. “So how long have you’ve been ice skating?” He asked wanting to know you better. “Since I was about 7-8 years old.” You said knowing you’ve been doing this for a long time. “What made you come ice skate in Madrid?” He asked.

“I’m originally from Spain actually, I lived here since I was 6, my father got a better got over in Netherlands, so we moved there. I took up ice skating while I was there. Then when I turned 18 I came back here.” You said telling him the story of how you moved to Madrid. “Not to mention my dad being a big Real Madrid fan.” You said letting out a small laugh.

You and Kylian talk for the next few minutes getting to know each other a little better. Soon the waiter comes with both of your food. A comfortable silence falls over the both of you as you start to eat. While eating you both do make some small talk.

“I was wondering, do you wanna come to the match?” He asked looking at you after he wiped his mouth. “I have season passes I was planning on going.” You said with a smile looking at him. “Well how would you like to sit in a VIP box we’re family and loved ones sit?” He asked with a smirk. “Mmmm, I think I’d like that.” You replay with a smile.

After dinner Kylian payed the bill, he then lead you back out to the car and helped you in before getting in the driver side. He grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to it before staring the cry and driving back to your place.

“So did this make up for my tantrum?” He asked with a light laugh. “Yes it did, I enjoyed this date very much.” You said back as you looked at him. He just nodded with a proud smile. A few minutes of comfortable silence you arrive to your apartment.

“Would you maybe wanna stay tonight? It’s late and I wouldn’t want you driving home late.” You said shyly as you looked out the front window to your apartment building. “Yeah, I’ll stay, but do you have a spare change of clothes.” He said looking down at his formal wear that wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in. You just nod and get out the cry with him following behind you.

Once you’re in your apartment you let storm out his cage and head to the guest bedroom grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. “Here you go.” You said walking back out to the living room where Kylian is petting your new kitten storm. He takes the clothes and walks to your bathroom to change.

He comes back out in the new cloths and sits next to you on the couch. “You wanna watch a movie?” You asked grabbing the remote. “Sure why not.” He smile and put an arm around the back of the couch almost resting on your shoulders.

As you played the movie, Kylian’s eyes were on you the whole time. He definitely didn’t mind when you laid your head on his shoulder. “Did your mom ever tell you it’s not nice to stare?” You said still looking at the tv, Kylian just looks away from you as blush creeps on his cheeks. “Yeah…but I’m staring at something beautiful.” He whispered near your ear.

That makes you blush and pull away from him looking him in the eyes. “Could stare at your eyes all day too.” He said grabbing your chin and bringing your face a little closer. You can feel his warm breaths on your face. You both stare at each other for a few moments before he speaks up. “Can I kiss you?” He asked quietly, you just give a soft nod.

Kylian pulls you closer by the chin and kisses you softly, loving, and passionately. He wants this kiss to last forever, not some fast kiss like his one night stands. He kisses you for a few moments before pulling away to look at you. “Be mine, please, I like you a lot. Y/n be my girlfriend.” He said in a soft voice. His eyes filled with love and affection. “Yes.” You whisper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @kymb-10

[freedomclown]

I also did brownies but some adultier adults (not saying names cuz the other DoA members get mad at me) told me I could only eat one part(?)! So I did something to fix the problem! Some of them are unaware of what I did but fukuchi-san now thinks I should got to therapy, an mental hospital AND get an exorcism...

Soooo... @casinoownersigma @yourinformationhasbeenexchanged @fyodordostoyevskevy @fyodorsdostoevsky @bramthecalamity @dustyevskyy @no-story-what-a-shame , what do you guys think of what I did???? :3

[bonefall]

Did Brambleclaw actually disown the Three when the secret is revealed? I don't remember this happening (then again, it's been a while) but it does bug me how all three go "Poor brambleclaw :(( He was such a good dad to us and he has to learn we're not even his biokits :(((( poor guy" while simultaneously shitting on Leafpool and Squirrelflight despite them showing them more care and affection before AND after the reveal. If he does disown them, then.... WOW is the double standard real here.

In-canon? It's something you have to approximate. They don't seem to have a concept of ""disowning"" because blood relation is taken as such an insurmountable, FUNDAMENTAL fact of life. He doesn't write them out of his little kitty will and testament, but his actions ARE disowning.

It's as if the fact he is not their biological father is an automatic disowning. From the reveal onwards, he is immediately cold, distant, and the "betrayal" is mentioned often. The Three also explicitly don't blame him for his behavior, like it's just to be expected that he's Not Their Dad anymore.

Lionblaze in particular stares longingly at him several times, really missing him. And like... that's kinda what gets my goat so much

I do believe Brambleclaw is entitled to his feelings of betrayal. I believe Squilf was ultimately in the right to lie, actually, but he's still allowed to be upset and angry that she didn't trust him enough to tell him something so important. THAT SAID, YOU ARE NEVER ENTITLED TO TREAT OTHERS POORLY.

And that's what GETS me. He isn't upset that it was all revealed in such a painful and embarassing way when this could have been avoided, or that his lover struggled with this lie for so long without him, or that he feels he's lost his children. Squilf points it out in The Last Hope-- He's so ANGRY at Squilf that he will THROW HIS FAMILY AWAY

Lionblaze seems desperate to be his son again. Hollyleaf is gone for months, and Brambleclaw is still huffing about the secret when she comes back from the dead. Squilf is fawning in the hopes it makes him talk to her again. Doesn't matter. Brambleclaw Is Upsetti Spaghetti so the narrative will never examine his role in hurting this family he apparently loved so much.

(Narrative seems to understand full well that when Squilf lies for a good reason, that doesn't invalidate the hurt Brambleclaw felt... but when Brambleclaw is upset for a good reason, it actually DOES validate what he put her and his kids through)

In BB it is explicitly a disowning. He cuts them off as his children, and they reciprocate. BB!Lionblaze does so in a ball of fury, vowing that he has ONLY a mother.

[tacagen]

one of the things that fascinate me about thawne: yes, he CAN be normal with kids! surprisingly normal!

((not at all times, though. his mental illness still spills through and as usual he, in trying to manipulate or hurt others, spits out at them the exact stuff that would hurt him (or have in his childhood/barry's rejection interpretation) the most in the first place lmao))

but at the same time. his like second instinct when doing his bullshit is FUCK THEM (as) KIDS

(and, well. whatever this classifies as)

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I think of so many stupid shenanigans between Wriothesley and his daughters in the Addison Lee verse. They tell Wriothesley crazy shit all the time, their daddy-daughter secrets, and it drives Neuvillette nuts that Wriothesley won't snitch.

Sigewinne, whispering into his ear: Today at school I punched a boy because he was being mean. I waited until it was recess, and made sure that no one was watching, and I punched him. Everyone knows he is a liar, so noooo one believed him when he cried about it. And Sigewinne is aaaalways a superstar so Mr Vautrin didn't suspect a thing !

Wriothesley, mildly concerned: Uh huh.

Sigewinne: Papa would say Sigewinne has to be nice to everyone, but, Sigewinne thinks bullies need to get punched sometimes, b'cos, b'cos otherwise, they think everyone is just gonna let them be mean

Wriothesley: Y'know what. That's fair