#loose hair wedding hairstyle

[rottiens]

i must know ur stepcest thoughts 🎤🎤🎤🎤🎤

US AT MIDNIGHT | GETŌ SUGURU

✮ wc. . 2.0K

✮ tags. . stepcest, spit kink, smoker fem!reader, alcohol consumption, praise kink (good girl), canon au. 18+ mdni. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ about. . the right thing to do would be to forget about the past and start over. pretend nothing happened. but sometimes the right thing to do is not always what we should do.

✮ notes. . i wanted to explore this trope from a more 'forbidden romance' point of view rather than lust as such, yk? Suguru really cares about the reader. I hope you can still enjoy it and suguru will probably be ooc here so I apologize for that ;sighs;

"You look ravishing tonight." You needn't turn around to know who it was, though it would be hypocritical to deny that you weren't expecting him.

Suguru followed you stealthily like shadow into the backyard, guided by your hips and the sound of your heels against the wooden floor that gave him clues as to what your final destination was. The trees under the breeze of the spring entrance flutter carrying silence.

You steel yourself to turn around, the courage you have never had but now cling to as if your life depended on it. You squeeze the cigarette you carry between your fingers and finally order your feet to move. You almost curse the moon for showing him to you so mysterious, the absence of light allows you to admire his blurred features and the darkness dances on his face preventing you from seeing him clearly. You sigh his manly perfume and smile wistfully at him, dropping your head to the side.

"Suguru." You hadn't said that name in a long time, hadn't thought of it after going to college abroad and abandoning your promising future as a sorceress, so having it in your mouth drags up memories that hit your belly like whips. He returns the same smile, clutching the cup in his hand. In the distance, the sound of music comes muffled through the walls that separate you. "Thank you… you look…" older, handsome, taller "You look good," you conclude with a sigh. "You grew your hair long." You point out the obvious, with a finger gesturing to the black hair that falls loosely down his back.

Apparently something you said makes him grin more, not to the point where he shows his teeth but you do notice the way his shoulders relax at your presence just a little.

"You don't have to hide from me."

"I wasn't," you reply without blinking, trying to keep the plastic smile.

You barely forget about the cigarette burning in your hand, so before the ashes land on your gleaming heels you bring it to your mouth taking a deep puff in search of, ironically, clearing your lungs. After pleading with your mother that you didn't want to attend her and Suguru's father's annual wedding anniversary celebration and she asked that you do so, you created a master plan for tonight that included everything from your hairstyle to your outfit, continuing with the dialogues you would hold and the posture you would assume the entire night… only your perfect plan didn't include your stepbrother cornering you alone like the wolf he is.

You extend the cigarette to him but he shakes his head taking the cup to his mouth instead, ironic, you learned from his vice. You wonder what else has changed in him these past few years.

Amber drops stick to his lower lip as he finishes his drink, which he soon swirls around with his tongue. You watch, unable to pretend you have no interest in him, perplexed that he still has the same effect on you.

"I should get back," you say in a voice that is raspy from the smoke, preparing to walk by his side unwilling to drag out the encounter any longer; however his long fingers tangle around your arm and that spark runs through your entire body.

"We didn't do anything wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it." You avoid looking at him at all costs, focusing on the silhouettes of your parents and their guests dancing in the living room.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you," he suddenly confesses and you hate him for doing this to you now, in the middle of such an important celebration for them.

"I shouldn't have come." You try to struggle against his grip to which he relents, only to seconds later grab you by both arms and slam you against one of the columns, in the background, a cicada screams as the guests rampage with a hubbub and your lungs empty from the impact.

Suguru just looks at you as his fingers burn marks into your skin and you wish you knew what was going through his mind… probably the same as in yours.

"We were kids," you try to explain as a last resort. "It was just a game." Suguru moves closer to your neck and you allow him to trespass your personal space, his natural scent clouding your senses and making you cling to his white shirt in search of stability.

Silently and with your breaths ragged and ruffled, Suguru blindly pulls your hand to his hips and you put up no resistance, then lower.

"This is what you do to me," he murmurs hoarsely. Your fingers feel his length through his pants, much fatter than you remember. Unexpected memories shame you, that should never have happened, you tried to run away from home in search of a fresh start but the images always came back to you tormenting you with the raw whip of morality. "Do you need me as much as I need you? Is that pussy wet for me?"

"Suguru…" you call out to him with weak knees, imploring him not to take you to a place you can't escape from.

"That's right. Say my name, your big brother is right here, let him take a look."

You whimper, more for lack of words or response than because you have any other choice, Suguru uses your weakness against you and that makes you feel frail, under his big fingers he destroys the mask that for so long it has taken you to form. His fingers are cradling your pussy above the fabric of your dress, tracing the labia up and down as he parts them at the same time with light pressure in search of your hidden clit, as soon as he finds it suguru starts a swirl taking his time to listen to your body and which way he caresses you is the one that makes you feel the most pleasure.

He helps you remove the uncomfortable belt around his hips so you can find his hard cock, unlike him, you search through the boxers to touch him directly and you both gasp at the contact.

"We cannot…" you try to elaborate, however Suguru shuts you up with a sloppy kiss, makes you swallow the words as he pushes his tongue inside you, touching your upper lip in a mess of saliva and tangling with your tongue as he pauses to suck on it a little.

"Open." As soon as he commands you, still touching you, your lips stained from the smeared lipstick open for him letting his saliva drip onto your tongue. You swallow and he smiles, it's exactly like before. "I'm going to spit again, but this time keep it in your mouth, okay?" your eyes widen a little at the demand and you don't know if he notices, though you do it anyway without protest. Your tongue rolls out and you give him a glimpse of your mouth, suguru purses his lips again and drops a big gob but this time you do as he says and instead of swallowing, you keep it there. "Good girl," he praises you right away. "You look so pretty with your mouth full so you won't tell me things I don't want to hear."

At that moment, he climbs up the skin of your thigh and tosses the already soaked panties aside to play directly with your needy clit. Each touch is heartbreaking, it's like it's the first time anyone has touched you in years, his caresses are tiny bursts of pleasure that climb up your belly and squeeze you from the inside— with one hand on your neck and one on your crotch suguru keeps jerking you off while he talks in your ear and tells you how much he's missed you, how much he needed to see you again, by this point your body was about to explode, your legs tremble and your nipples harden with each dirty word that makes his throat vibrate.

Suguru raises his hand to the level of your face and shows you his open palm as if waiting for something.

"Spit." Seeing the confusion on your face you make him smile, which has an effect on you that you hate. Without further hesitation you spit, and he takes his now wet and sticky hand to his cock to lubricate it and with the same soaked hand he gives two round strokes to your pussy, giving you to understand that he is preparing you for what is coming next.

He abruptly turns you over so that your back is to him while he grabs your hips and lifts your ass, you stand on tiptoe while hiding your face in your hands. Common sense begs you because you still have time, logic tells you that someone could be watching you from afar and that your relationship would be more than an embarrassment to the family, yet it's hard to think about the moment when the thick head brushes your swollen lips in a gentle back and forth.

"Is this okay?" he asks. "Can I fuck you without a condom?"

You can't think. You want to say you're not sure, but a hasty, "Yes," rolls out of you before you can stop it.

You can sense his hesitation in the way his grip weakens around your hips and by how he continues to outline your pussy lips up and down without deciding to thrust even though you are blindly seeking him with your hips.

You call his name, looking back to stare at his body bathed in the dim light; the dark strands obscure his gaze as Suguru just focuses on the image of you open waiting to be taken for him. Even in the absence of light you admire his jaw clench.

"I don't want our first time to be like this," suguru breathes, still not raising his head to look at you. Your brow furrows slightly in both frustration and confusion, after all he's been the one to blame for you getting to this point— your lips parted to complain at the same time his voice fills the place again. "Squeeze your thighs together." He commands back authoritatively without waiting for a no.

You do as he asks. With your eyes straight ahead, you focus on the column in front of you to which you cling for support and amidst the murmur of applause Suguru slides his hard cock in between your thighs after he has spit again.

The sound of his moans are drowned out by the din at close range, his hips thrusting and rubbing desperately against you in search of release. Your whole body feels hot in different places and for different reasons, shame and pleasure are those that stand out the most burning your cheeks and an oppressive sensation cracking your ribs.

The amount of saliva makes the movement fluid, just like a dance in which you help him by pushing your hips back to meet him in that back and forth in perfect unison. This leads him to cum soon, he lifts your dress to spill the ropes of cum on your ass ruining the harmony of your skin, then, still with fingers dirty from his own orgasm suguru pulls you to cling to his chest and from behind drags a hand down your belly to take hold of your pussy once more.

He forces you to look into the room as two of his fingers deep into you and makes you moan, taking care to steal a hard orgasm from you as his kisses make themselves present in your throat and his cum slides very slowly along your ass. His chest heaves with pride knowing that you will spend the rest of the party with his mark on you, as everyone laughs and celebrates a special occasion; his cum would be spilling down the length of your thighs.

He rejoices knowing you had come back to him.

"Meet me in my room at midnight," he whispers in your ear after depositing a tender kiss on your lobe.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Four - The Bond of Marriage

Warnings for this Chapter: tooth rotting fluff (you might wanna prepare some tissues, friends), suggestive smut/light smut, did I mention fluff?

Word Count: 5,3k

a/n: This chapter means so much to me. I put so much time, love and passion in it; wanting to make it perfect. I hope I did. 🙏🏼💚

Shout outs in this Chapter: @sagitternolunaspace once again for the Midgardian (pre-) wedding traditions! @asgards-princess-of-mischief for choosing the bridesmaids dresses! @smolvenger for the bride's hairstyle! @fictive-sl0th for being my flower girl! @lokiforever & @brokenpoetliz , which whom I designed the locations with! @frzntrx for choosing Loki's wedding ceremony armour. @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 for drawing Y/N's beautiful wedding dress, aaand @loz-3 for designing Y/N's and Loki's wedding rings! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! From the bottom of my heart! I loved doing this with you all together! 💚

This song fits the vibe of this chapter:

💍 Chapter Three °☆• Chapter Five 💍

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• A Covenant for Eternity Masterlist (coming soon!)

"What kind of ridiculous Midgardian pre-wedding tradition is that, love?" Loki scoffed; crossing his arms over his chest as he sat down on the bar stool in front of the kitchen counter. "Spending the night before the wedding apart? Why would somebody do that?"

You couldn't suppress the small giggle leaving your lips, as you placed the cup of tea on the counter in front of your fiancè. "Thank you," he grumbled.

"Because it's tradition, babe." "Yes, I know, but what is the purpose?" You watched him take a sip, as he sat there in his grey boxershorts and black sleep t-shirt; hair a mess. You bit your lip; trying hard to not get caught up now.

"Well, uh, it's an ancient excise and was made to ensure that the bride keeps her maidenhood until the wedding night." Loki frowned and scoffed again. "Ridiculous. Like I said. You aren't a maiden, Y/N. This... ancient excise is invalid." "Yes, I know that, babe." You giggled again and explained further. "But nowadays it's kinda because of the organisation." "Organisation?" You nodded. "Yes. It's easier for the bride to stay at home, so that she doesn't have to drag all the things she needs for the wedding along to her maid of honour in the morning. Since you aren't supposed to see me before the wedding ceremony, you have to leave nevertheless, so..."

Loki sighed. Unfortunately, your words made sense. "Alright, alright. I understand." You smiled and rested both elbows on the black surface underneath you, so that you were able to slightly lean over the counter; brushing your nose against Loki's. "Does that mean you agree to it?" You whispered; still smiling.

The corners of Loki's mouth lifted; deep blue eyes mapping out the features of your face. "Darling, that's a very big request you are making... Asking me to stay a whole night away from you just because of a tradition..." "I-I know, babe, but-" "It's better that way, I know," Loki interrupted you; sighing deeply.

Drama queen.

Suddenly, you felt his warm hand against your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Let's pretend I agree to it... What do I get out of this, my love? Besides a cold, lonely bed?"

Your heart threatened to skip a beat, but you quickly tried to keep your composure - successfully.

"Well..." You spoke in a quiet, yet seductive voice and rounded the counter. The god's eyes stuck on you; following every step you took. You slowly approached him, while Loki spun around his bar stool with a smooth movement of his arms; now facing you.

You bit your lip; smiling up to him and placing both your palms on his naked thighs. "I, um... I don't know, I could... Text Nat and tell her that I'll be thirty minutes late to our meeting." You said nonchalantly; shrugging your shoulders and innocently massaging the hard muscles underneath your palms.

A low chuckle rumbled through your fiancè's chest and before you could react, Loki slid from the chair, hoisted you up and sat you down on the black, slate counter; coming to stand between your opened legs. A small squeak left your lips, since you did not see that coming.

Now Loki was the one who hand his hands on your pyjama shorts clad thighs; playing with the baby blue fabric.

"Make it an hour and we have an agreement," he purred; leisurely stroking your hot skin. "Deal," you breathed and greedily pulled him in for a feverish kiss, until you both ran out of air.

Your grinned at Loki; hand already aiming for the front of his grey boxershorts, when he suddenly stopped you and battered your hand away. "Ah.Ah.Ah, my love," he tutted and reached for your mobile. "Text Romanoff first." You complied, of course, and sent your best friend a quick message.

Loki gave you a smouldering look, "Good girl." and laid your phone aside again. "And now lift that pretty ass of yours, so we can get rid of those unnecessary garments."

Exactly an hour later, you knocked on Natasha's apartment door. It took her not even a minute to appear in the door frame; arms crossed and smirking. "I'll better ask not why you are an hour late?" You nodded in agreement. "Nah, better not." Your best friend giggled. "That's all I needed to know. Now come in." The widow stepped aside; granting you access.

"Oh, hey, Bruce!" You saw the doctor sitting at Natasha's desk in the corner of your eye, while walking past the small office. He wore his glasses and was - hence, you didn't know what he was doing.

When Banner heard your voice, he lifted his head and gave you a smile. "Hey, Y/N." A smile, which you returned. "You good?" He nodded. "Perfect. How about you?" "Well... Quite nervous, to be honest. But also excited." His smile widened. "Understandable."

After the little conversation, you followed Natasha into the living room and made yourself comfortable on her sofa.

"I hope you don't mind that he's here..." You shook your head. "Of course not. Why should I? He's your boyfriend!" She just shrugged her shoulders; smiling innocently. "I don't know. Perhaps you want to talk about something which isn't meant for his ears - beside the wedding stuff." Another laugh slipped past your lips. "I mean, I could, but... No."

You and Natasha talked the wedding through - from 'start' to 'finish'. It was important for you to make sure that nobody who helped to organise this forgot anything and that everything would go smooth and without an incident. Well, and since Nat was your maid of honour and main wedding planner, you talked with her, of course.

After all was settled, last minute preparations were made. The hours flew by quickly and it took you and the widow longer than expected. Therefore, it was already late when you closed the door of yours and Loki's shared apartment; the sun already setting over New York City.

"Babe?" You called out for your fiancè. The answer came quickly. "Bedroom, love!" You followed is voice and went to the bedroom; finding him packing a duffel bag for his 'sleepover' at Thor's. He didn't want to stay in a hotel, so his brother and sister-in-law's house was the only option. Thor and Jane were more than fine with it and so was Loki - luckily.

"Hey," you greeted him; smiling. The god lifted his head. Stunning blue eyes meeting yours. "Hello, love." He returned your smile. "I see you are back?" You nodded, while walking over to him; immediately wrapping your arms around his middle and pressing your upper body against his. Like clockwork, Loki's arms engulfed you; hugging you even closer against him.

Your fiancè bestowed a lingering kiss on the crown of your head. "Everything prepared for tomorrow?" He mumbled against your hair, but loud enough for you to hear. You hummed in response; voice muffled by the sweatshirt he wore. "Mhm."

Loki didn't answer. He just continued to hold you close.

The both of you enjoyed the other's closeness; lost in touch and love. Your head rested against his chest; ear laying right where his heart was. The sound of his strong and steady heartbeat caused realisation to wash over you.

You were finally going to marry this man... Tomorrow.

Suddenly, it became so real; almost so close that you could reach it with your fingertips. It sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

"Babe..." You quietly spoke up. "Can you believe that we are getting married in less than twenty-four hours?"

A low, gravelly chuckle left the god's slip. "No, darling. It feels like a dream which is too good to be true." You nodded against his chest and took a deep breath.

Gods, he smelt so good.

"Something along that, yes..."

A few beats of silence passed, until Loki spoke up. "I think I never looked to anything else in my life as much forward as I do to tomorrow. I cannot wait to finally make you entirely mine."

His words sent a jolt of pure happiness and love through your body; heartbeat quickening.

"Me too, babe. Me too. Feels like I have been waiting for this all my life."

After thoroughly saying goodbye to Loki for the rest of the evening and upcoming night, you made yourself a little something to eat and then curled up in bed with a book; reading for a while, before you decided to go to sleep early.

Sure, you could've stayed up longer, but you knew that it was going to take you probably hours to actually sleep in. There was just too much excitement running through your veins; mixed with a tinge of nervosity - and you should be proven right...

On the next morning, your alarm clock threw you out of bed at seven o'clock sharp. Still a bit sleepy, you stood up and trotted into the bathroom. You paid the loo a visit (almost sleeping in again; sitting on the bowl) and then decided to firstly eat something, since your stomach was growling and protesting in hunger.

You still were kind of half asleep, when you passed the living room in order to get to the kitchen. But when your half lidded eyes landed coincidentally on your wedding dress for the ceremony, which you had placed there yesterday evening after Loki was away, you suddenly were wide awake.

YOU.WERE.GOING.TO.MARRY.TODAY!

You couldn't suppress the exciting squeal bubbling up in your throat; followed by a little happy dance.

You immediately grabbed your phone and tapped in lightning speed on the contact you had in mind; followed by the green button. About three rings later, an excited voice greeted you. "Good morning, bride." "I am going to get married today, oh my gosh!" You literally screamed; causing Natasha to giggle at the other end of the line. "Indeed, babes. Today is the day. Do you feel the nerves already?" You took a deep breath; giggling. "Now I do, yes." "Don't worry, babes. It's gonna be the best day of your life." You smiled to yourself. "I hope so." "I know so," answered Nat promptly.

You hung up with your best friend then; having to get some food inside you in order to calm your nerves a bit.

After that, you called Loki and talked to him quite a few minutes, which helped to ease yours - and his nerves as well. You would've loved to talk longer to him, but Natasha was minutes away from knocking at your door and helping you to get ready. You weren't even able to finish that thought, when you heard loud knocks coming undoubtedly from your door.

"Come in!"

Your best friend didn't waste a second and stormed inside; hugging you with a smile and an excited, happy squeal. "Let's get you ready and make the most beautiful bride Asgard has ever seen out of you," Nat winked at you and took your hand; dragging you towards the living room.

About two hour later, you stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom, with tears in your eyes. You wore the wedding dress you chose a few months ago with the girls - and it was just as beautiful as you remembered when you tried it on. Your hair was beautifully done; fitting perfectly with the veil.

You looked at yourself; slowly spinning in a circle and making the white tulle skirt twirl with the motion. "You look breathtakingly beautiful, babes," you suddenly heard Natasha speak up from behind you. "Loki is going to lose it..." You turned to face Natasha; smiling and still fighting the tears. You couldn't let them ruin all the work and time your best friend put in your look. Not yet. "Thank you."

Then you noticed that she had changed as well and was now wearing the bridesmaid dress the girls all chose to wear. "You look absolutely stunning as well!" Natasha giggled and did a small curtsey. "Thank you." You walked over to her; taking both her hands in yours. "I owe you, bestie. When you marry Bruce, you know which number to call." "Oh shut it, Y/N. It was an honour for me to do this. After all, we are best friends." "Indeed."

She winked at you. "But I take you up on it sometime."

The two of you spent a few moments in silence, before your thoughts drifted in another direction. "I... I wish my parents could see this..." You whispered; swallowing the lump in your throat. Natasha's expression changed from happy into compassionate. "I know, sweetie... I'm sorry." She squeezed your hands in a reassuring manner. "But I know that they would be so proud of you and the woman you became - and of course that you found your soulmate." You nodded. "Y-Yes. I think you are right." The widow gave you an encouraging smile. "Now let's go. The other girls will be here in a few minutes. It's time to get you married."

No ten minutes later, you met up with all the female Midgardian guests of yours and Loki's wedding, in order to travel to Asgard together. You took the girls with you, Loki the boys.

Arrived on Asgard, carriages awaited you and the guests, and brought you all to the location of the ceremony. But not without a small 'sightseeing tour' past the palace and through the nature of your fiancè's home. It was beautiful. Asgard always had been. Always would be. Especially in that time of the year...

It was a sunny day in October. A chilly breeze rustled the trees, which lined the path; causing the colourful leaves to float through the air. You smiled; looking through the small window of the carriage you shared with your bridesmaids.

"It's a wonderful day, isn't it?" Wanda asked with a smile. You looked at her; noticing how well emerald green fitted her. "It is. Perfect for a wedding," agreed Pepper.

About twenty minutes later, the carriage came to an halt and the door got opened for the girls – but not yet for you.

"Take a few deep breaths before going out there in a few minutes, babe. You got this." Nat winked at you and handed you the bridal bouquet; made out of roses, lilies and foliage. Awkward hugs - due to the angle and lack of space were exchanged, before the girls left, in order to take their places.

Your carriage had been the last one to arrive, of course. You knew that you only had a few minutes left, before it was going to happen. The moment you had waited and planned for since months. Yes, almost a whole year.

You felt how your heart rate picked up; palms getting sweaty.

You needed fresh air now.

So, you opened the little window on your left side and took a few very deep breaths like Nat advised; even closing your eyes for a moment and just focusing on the here and now.

Of what wonderful hours laid ahead of you - and Loki.

Suddenly, you heard how the door of the carriage got opened and a familiar voice spoke to you. "Are ya ready, kid?"

You smiled; turning your head and opening your eyes. In front of you stood Nick Fury; dressed in suit and tie, with a smile on his face as well.

You nodded; "Yes." feeling the warm sun on your face. "Just... Give me one last second." Nick smiled and gave you a nod, "As the bride wishes." and closed the door once more.

You took another deep breath; looking up at the creme white ceiling of the carriage. "Mom, dad? Wherever you are right now... I hope you can see me," you started; having to swallow hard. "I-I hope you are proud of me - and happy for me."

A soft, chilly autumn breeze rustled your beautifully done hair and tickled the skin of your face. You smiled; working once more hard against the tears. "I take that as a yes."

A knock from Nick against the door of the carriage interrupted your little moment. "I don't wanna push ya, kid, but I think your groom is waiting."

You nodded to yourself, trying to ease up your nerves a last time and gently pushed the door open.

"I'm ready."

Fury nodded and reached out his hand for you to take. "Ma'am." You giggled and took his hand, so that he could help you step down the three steps. Once your feet had touched the ground, you looked around and finally took in the breathtaking location you and Loki had chosen. It was a meadow in the heart of Asgard, with trees and waterfalls in the background.

Emerald green satin curtains, which were dancing in the soft wind and placed directly in front of the carriage, blocked your view from the wedding guests and of course everything else. Just like the curtains shielded you from the eyes of the crowd.

"Shall we?" Nick asked; now offering you his arm.

Yes... Nick Fury was the man who was going to walk you down the aisle. He was the closest to a father you had after losing your dad. He had looked after you in all those years; always having a sympathetic ear. Since that very day he came across you in that ragged, old gym in down-town Detroit and took you under his wing. He had given you what you needed the most at that time... A second chance.

Good thing you were strong and lucky enough to win that competition he had set up, which gave you the opportunity to become a SHIELD agent. And you made it.

"Yes." You placed your hand on his arm. The music started to play - a beautiful classic, instrumental piece you and Loki had chosen together.

Nick gave you a smile and led you through the curtains.

All eyes were immediately on you, of course. As it should be. A spark of nervousness sizzled through your system. It was a lot for you to take in at that very moment. So many people - all gathered here to witness this beautiful event. The celebration of love. Your eyes darted from one familiar face to the next; exchanging some shy and nervous smiles. You took in your surroundings. Autumn had coloured the trees in shades of orange, red and yellow.

And the staff of the royal family had decorated everything in Loki's colours and other rich shades; fitting for a royal wedding. The chairs on which the guests sat were, of course, swathed in emerald green satin with gold accents and decorated with a matching boutonnière. A white lily and white roses with a little bit of foliage.

The carpet you and Nick walked on was white with black rose petals everywhere. It was beautiful.

But then your eyes landed on Loki. Finally. Your brain had been overwhelmed by all the sudden impressions which rained down on you - but finally you were able to see him.

Your heart skipped a beat. No... A few beats. He looked beyond beautiful in his ceremonial armour; specially made for this occasion.

Black, shiny boots and black leather trousers laid the groundwork for his outfit. Underneath the emerald green chest and arm plates you saw a black undershirt peeking through. Golden vines adorned the armour and a cape in the same colour moved with the wind; embroidered with small, green leaves. Of course the signature horns on his head couldn't be missing. It was a part of him, after all.

A huge smile was stretched across his whole face, and you could swear you saw tears glistening in his eyes.

Sweaty hands were crossed in front of his upper body; fingers nervously fumbling. It was so utterly sweet - and reassuring to know that the man of your dreams was just as nervous as you were.

And suddenly you were only a few meters away from Loki; causing your Y/E/C eyes to meet his oceanic blues and the world to suddenly stop turning. All that existed in that very moment were the two of you. Nothing and nobody else.

Your eyes weren't able to break apart from his - just like the god's. Hence, you didn't even notice how Nick placed your hand in Loki's with a smile. Or how he spoke a few last words to you, before he stepped away and took his seat.

"Y/N..." Loki breathed out; voice shaky. Norns, he could cry out of happiness. "You... You look absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful, my love."

You needed a second to collect yourself and keep your composure. "T-Thanks, babe, I- Gods, you look so beautiful yourself."

He gave you a dazzling smile and brushed his thumb gently, lovingly over the back of your hand, before he led you up the two steps to the podium on which the Allfather already awaited you.

Just a few meters from where you and Loki stood now, was an floral archway; framing the whole scene. A little podium was placed in front of it, on which the wedding rings laid. With the waterfalls in the background, it was picture perfect.

The music stopped then; faded away and left silence behind - except a few single whispers in the crowd. You held on to Loki's hand and Loki to yours; both needing the calming touch of the other.

Odin lifted his hands as a signal for everyone that the ceremony was about to begin. "Dear friends, family members, Avengers and royal staff," the Allfather began his speech; voice booming.

"Each one of you - no matter Asgardian or Midgardian, found the way to this beautiful, inconspicuous place in our realm for the most important reason possible... A wedding." Odin paused and looked at you and Loki with a soft smile. "But not just any wedding, no... A royal wedding! On this day, I honestly never thought would arrive, we are here to witness the marriage of my son, prince Loki of Asgard and his chosen princess, Y/N Y/L/N - SHIELD Agent and Avenger from Midgard."

You and Loki exchanged a loving smile at Odin's words and you felt how his hand gave yours a gentle squeeze.

"Let us begin the ceremony with the traditional exchange of swords and daggers - an ancient tradition, which we want to preserve in order to honour our ancestors," Odin announced and gestured towards two royal guards - chosen by the Allfather himself, who were positioned on the left and right side of the podium; giving them the signal to step up to you, him and Loki.

"Son, you will start. Present the chosen dagger you are going to pass on to your future sons and daughters." Loki let go of your hand - much to your dismay, although you knew that he had to, gave his father a short bow and turned to face the guard on his side. He held an emerald green pillow in both his palms, on which laid Loki's chosen dagger. Carefully, Loki took it in his hands and turned back to face you.

"Y/N - bride and future bearer of my children. I present to you my chosen dagger; forged by the dwarves of Nidavellir in the heart of a dying star; hopefully handed over to the sons and daughters you'll gift me with."

You couldn't suppress the little twinge deep within your heart, as the word 'children' left Loki's lips.

You knew that he had to say those words, but it stung nevertheless a little bit, given the fact that he didn't want children. But once your ears heard where he got the dagger from, you felt your heart skip a beat. He went that far - just for you.

Of course, you wanted to leap into his arms and just kiss him, but you couldn't. This was a royal wedding ceremony after all, so you stuck to the 'script'.

You curtsied and bowed your head. "I accept and take this dagger as a symbol of your love; handed over to your future sons and daughters." You took Loki's dagger and presented it to the crowd - and Odin, which was an important part, then went to the guard on your side and exchanged your chosen dagger with Loki's; gently placing it on the equally emerald green pillow and giving the guard the permission to step aside.

"Y/N, you may now present your dagger," Odin announced, gesturing at you.

You turned to Loki once again and presented now your chosen dagger. "Loki - groom and father of my future children. I present to you my chosen dagger; gifted to me by the Allmother - the goddess of marriage and fertility, with the promise to protect our bonded families."

Loki bowed and took the dagger from your hands into his; presenting it to the crowd. "I accept and take this dagger as a symbol of your love and protection of our bonded families." He placed the dagger on the pillow which the guard still held on his side; commanding him with a silent nod to step away as well.

Odin, who had watched the exchange almost in silence stepped forward again; taking the lead. "Now that the dagger exchange is executed, we shall move on to the vows." At the wave of Odin's hand, another guard stepped up the podium, with a beautiful emerald green silk ribbon. He handed it over to Odin with a bow.

The Allfather presented the ribbon, which was yours and Loki's signal to face each other again.

"With this ribbon, I shall bond you to each other and tie the knot of marriage!" You and Loki intertwined your hands and Odin wrapped the ribbon around both your wrists; tying it - and the both of you together.

"You may speak your vows now."

Since Loki started with the dagger exchange, you both decided together beforehand that you were going to start with the vows.

You took a deep breath; looked deep into Loki's blue eyes and begun to speak. "Love... Is a strange thing. When we met, I never thought I would call you my husband four years in the future. What I saw, was a misunderstood god; stripped down to nothing more than a man, silently begging for a second chance. I wanted to give you this chance. Luckily, I did." You smiled up at him; resisting the urge to run your thumb over his cheek. "But love is so much more than that... It's a promise. A promise to give yourself to another and trust them blindly. Love is the most powerful thing in the universe - and with you, I am stronger than I ever was before."

You saw tears pooling in the god's eyes; he was fighting hard to hold them back.

"Loki Laufeyson, prince of Asgard, I vow to be your wife for all eternity. Not even death shall be able to part us. Whatever life throws our way; no matter if happiness or sadness, I will walk by your side. I always will."

By now you had to fight your tears as well - but it got only worse once Loki spoke his vow, but he needed a short moment to keep his emotions together.

"Y/N, my light in the darkness... My anchor in the harsh ocean waves. You brought me back to life. You brought the sun back in, which was everything but an easy task. The walls I built around my heart were torn down by your love." You felt how he stroked his thumb in a caressing, loving manner over the skin on your wrist; the ribbon not able to stop him to do so.

But you weren't able to hold back the tear which ran down your cheek and dropped on the ground beneath you.

"Love is indeed strange and the most powerful thing in the whole universe, but not just that. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."

Loki smiled at you through his own clouded eyes and oh so illicitly raised his free hand to brush the tears from your cheek.

"Y/N Y/L/N, my goddess of Midgard, I vow to be your husband for all eternity. Not even death shall be able to part us. Whatever life throws our way; no matter if happiness or sadness, I will walk by your side. I always will."

You smiled at him through tears; unable to prevent your lips from brushing a soft kiss against the heel of his hand. The contact of your soft lips left a tingling, sizzling sensation on the god's skin behind. He shivered; threatening to get lost in this little moment - but then Odin's voice cut through the air, like a dagger through flesh.

"These rings shall serve as an everlasting symbol of your love and marriage, and to entirely tie the bond between the both of you," the Allfather spoke; taking a step aside to reveal said rings. He gestured for you and Loki to come closer and take the last step on the way of becoming husband and wife.

Excitement and happiness bubbled up within your body; causing your heart to speed up again. That was the moment you, Loki and basically everybody else attending this wedding had waited for.

Odin removed the ribbon around your wrists and gave his son the silent permission to begin. Loki didn't let himself tell that twice, of course.

A shaky, nervous hand reached for the slightly smaller and thinner wedding band; made out of hand-worked silver with a tree bark texture and an inlay of crushed emeralds.

On the inside of the ring, was a beautiful engraving, which read 'Beloved' in old Norse runes.

The other soft, warm, yet sweaty hand reached for your hand. "Take this ring as a symbol of my love. It shall remind you, that I am yours and only yours," Loki spoke; gazing deep into your eyes - and gently slipped the ring on your finger.

You felt like you couldn't breathe - and explode from sheer endless love and happiness at the same time. It was a roller coaster ride.

Taking a small moment to take a deep breath and - once more, collect yourself to keep things together, you closed your eyes.

Urged on by your racing heart; only beating for Loki and his eternal love, you quickly reopened your eyes again and took his ring out of the small, quadratic box.

"Take this ring as a symbol of my love. It shall remind you, that I am yours and only yours," you repeated Loki's words and slipped the wedding band on his finger as well. It felt so right. Like everything was falling into place; as it should be. As it was always meant to be.

"As the Allfather of the nine realms and king of Asgard, I hereby pronounce you, Loki - prince of Asgard and Y/N - child of Midgard, as husband and wife," Odin announced cheerfully; giving you and Loki a smile. "Son, you may kiss your bride now."

Another thing Loki didn't let himself tell twice. You hadn't even the chance to process your father-in-law's words, before big hands landed on your hips and reeled you in; soft lips crashing against yours.

It was a powerful kiss. Probably the most powerful kiss you and Loki ever shared; overwhelmed by emotions and feelings.

Loud claps and cheers erupted from behind you, and suddenly it became real. You were married now... Married. You had the privilege, honour and right to call Loki Laufeyson your husband - from now on and for all times.

Of course, I won't keep all the great stuff my wedding planner made in this chapter from you. 😉

Loki's hairstyle is from me and @smolvenger ; drawn by my friend @sugar0612 ! 🤗 Carrie's hairstyles she chose for Y/N can be found here, here aaaand here. 🤍

Then we got the bridesmaids' dresses by @asgards-princess-of-mischief !

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 's design for Y/N's beautiful wedding dress!

The bouquet by my flower girl @fictive-sl0th !

Aaaand the wedding/engagement ring by @loz-3 !

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @jaidenhawke @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @smolvenger @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (Continuing in the comments!)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Marrying Thor but being in love with Loki. Have her go to Loki’s room at wedding night so he can finish what his brother failed to…if yu know what i mean

Old work I dug from my wip, I hope you enjoy it <3

Warnings: 18+, smut, infidelity, oral (f receiving)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Sometimes, life doesn’t go according to plan. Sometimes, it rains and you have to wear a cloak over the pretty dress you wanted to wear that day. Sometimes, you get a terrible headache and have to go to bed early. Sometimes, for political reasons, you have to put duty before heart matters.

One is the heir to the throne, the future king…and the other one is the king of your heart.

Your father had forged this arrangement with Odin in secret, with hopes of uniting realms. Though such alliances through marriage were nothing new, neither you nor Thor had been consulted beforehand. You were quick to voice your displeasure to your respective parents, but they didn’t care. You and Thor were going to marry. 

Your future husband didn’t care too much. Duty was duty. 

Loki, however, had a different perspective. When the news of the marriage got to his ears, he was furious. 

He didn’t show up to the marriage, which was expected and better that way. No one wants to see the person they love marrying another. 

After the ceremony, you snuck out of Thor’s quarters and ventured to Loki’s. You were mindful of the guards all around the palace, knowing that if you were seen there would be consequences. 

You knocked on his door, your fist delicate against the thick wood. You could hear some shuffling, followed by footsteps coming to the door. He was out of his day clothes and wearing a dark green soft, silk shirt and lounge pants. 

The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk when he saw you in your delicate robe and hair undone, cascading down your back in loose waves caused by your wedding hairstyle. ‘’What do we have here? The future queen of Asgard sneaking from her dear husband’s bed on her wedding night. Marital troubles already?’’ 

You fought the envy to roll your eyes at his remark. ‘’I braved the guards to see you, don’t leaving me standing in the corridor.’’

Loki stepped aside and you walked in, closing the door behind you. Inside, everything looked the same as it always did; the bed was perfectly made, the thick curtains were shut and shielding the room from the glow of the moon, and the desk was stacked with parchment papers and bits of used charcoal.  

‘’Don’t you have better things to do than clandestinely visit your dear husband’s brother in the middle of the night?’’ Loki's voice was laced with a bitter edge as he spoke, his back turned to you as he walked back to the velvet green couch he was sitting on before you interrupted his reading.

You couldn't help but respond with a touch of sarcasm, trying to break through the tension that hung in the room. ‘’Like listening to Thor’s snores that could make a trumpet sound quiet?’’  

You walked over to the couch and took a seat beside him with your back against the cushioned armrest. It wasn’t very lady-like to sit with your feet on the couch, but no one was there to scold you. The red silk of your robe contrasted with the jewel tone of the couch, a silent reminder that you shouldn’t be there. Red was Thor’s color. 

‘’How was the bedding ceremony?’’ The prince set the book he was reading on the table, his head turned from you to hide how he truly felt about the thought of you and Thor having sex. 

Shifting uncomfortably, you casted your eyes down. ‘’Can we not talk about that—’’ 

Loki ghosted his hand slowly up your ankle, shin, then stopped right below your knee. ‘’Does he touch you like I do?’’ 

The answer was easy. 

You wouldn’t call Thor selfish, but when it came to sex, his performances weren’t what you would expect from a god. The rumors were true, even a good dick doesn’t guarantee you good sex. No foreplay or any kind of fun, just plain old missionary…for five minutes. The liters of Asgardian Ale he had drank during the wedding celebration were possible to blame for that terrible experience. Hopefully it won’t always be like that. 

With Loki, sex was completely different. He knew your body like the back of his hand, the exact ways that had your back aching and screaming. And there was a connection that just wasn't there with Thor.

You shook your head. 

Loki laughed, genuinely amused from hearing of his brother's incompetence. ‘’You have no idea how hilarious it is. Thor, the mighty God of Thunder and heir to the throne, failed to satisfy his wife on his wedding night.’’ 

‘’I knew it would amuse you. Knowing there’s something you’re more skilled at than him.’’ 

A sly smirk played on the prince’s lips, flattered by your compliment. ‘’Tell me more.’’ 

 ‘’Don’t be greedy.’’ Your eyes longed on him, how beautiful he looked in the glow of the lamp.  

‘’Me?’’ Loki leaned back on the couch, his eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light. ‘’The only thing I’m greedy for is sitting right in front of me and wearing a color that’s far too overpowering for her complexion.’’ 

His words only strengthened your guilt for taking the hand of a man you didn't love. It was killing you inside to know you'll never get to hold Loki's hand arm in the gardens or kiss him in front of the inhabitants of Asgard.

Turning a blind eye to your new marital status, you let your fingers glide down along the lapel of your robe, and traced teasingly the seam of your belt-tie. ‘’Shall I take it off?’’ you said in a near whisper.

‘’And what of your new husband?’’

‘’He’s sleeping until morning.’’ You pulled at the belt-tie and undid the knot, letting the silk slowly fall and expose your breasts. 

A silent growl caught in Loki's throat. He's mouthed and worshiped those so many times, yet he was still in awe every time you undressed. 

Without withdrawing his eyes from you, he made the robe vanish with a snap of his fingers, leaving you completely bare on his emerald green couch. ‘’Green looks better on you.’’ He delicately grabbed your ankles, and spread your legs before crawling between them. 

A sigh left your lips when he kissed the insides of your thighs, giving attention to what had been neglected in Thor’s quarters. Loki was right, no man touched you like he did. He looked up at you as he kissed higher and higher on your skin, making the situation more sensual. You bit down your lip when he 

placed a loving kiss against your sensitive clit, and grip his dark curls as his tongue swirled and suckled your sensitive bud. 

‘’Ahh, Loki!’’ 

His name was the only one on your tongue, echoing through the wall of his bed chamber and down the corridor.

—

Marvel taglist: @xenasolos @chrizzierbsstuff @ayamenimthiriel @alina02 @turtleshavesoulmates @staygoldsquatchling02 @daemonslittlebitch  @wetwilliam02 @haileyismoo @manofworm @rhydianissuperior @supersanelyromantic @nicangel13 @mxxny-lupin  @sweeterheartxamerica @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @arunaposeidondottie @liidiaaag @katsukis1wife  @amithesimpoffandoms @acornacreacure @chaotic-fangirl-blog  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @youdontneedtoknowthisinformation  @aabananaa @starrrslove  @angeliod @nmedina8611 @1stevelacyfan  @yourfavdummy @laylasbunbunny  @slytherhoes @pedrosprincess  @luvvtxinityy @Eddiefrickenmunson @wandaswigglywoos @mikaelsonsstuff  @tcddszn  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous  @popeheywardssecretgf @kattybug @loverofdrewstarkey  @sl4sh3rfuck3r  @luci1fer @dingus0401  @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @t-candy  @adaydreamaway08  @johannelis2302nely  @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @mymultiveres @hopeurokays @not-liah @beth-gallagher22  @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336 @arinexeisnotworking  @rubyliquor @Danniackerman  @angelxxrose @angelxxrose  @upwritingallnight  @cruzgrecia @evelestrange  @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe  @hoeforsirius  @secretsthathauntus  @sarcasm-and-stiles @buckyswhxre  @niktwazny303

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[luxthestrange]

LMK Incorrect quotes#57 Shy Princey

Your Apart from the DemonBull family, the more...chaotic-chaotic then chaotic evil side of dbk family side...But PIF wanted you and Nezha to get along given you are both Redson's favorite people aside from his parents...None saw the outcome of you two putting your differences to get along for the sake of Redson...could turn to this-

In the celestial realm

Celestial Guard: Prince Nezha?*Voices echos thru the halls looking for the prince*

Nezha Gasps as he sits up from the couch upper waist completely bare, Swollen red lips, messy loose hair a bit out of breath out of his iconic double buns, Looks around the room in panic*

Celestial Guard: Helloo?

Nezha: A guard!*Smacking your shoulder*

DemonBull!Y/n: Ow!-*Sitting up, Is the same as Nezha, Grinning happily*

Nezha*Gasping as he tries to smoothen his hair and redo his iconic hairstyle and clothes fast*What's he gonna think if he finds you like this with me?

DemonBull!Y/n: Uh, lucky demon?~*Cleans the edge of own lips from the drool...you two were very lost in your heated make-out*

Nezha: J-Just-Just-Just...*Frowns as he contains his flustered state as he picks you up and throws you into his closet to hide*

Part 2 of:

[lovehypegirl]

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙊𝙇𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙇𝘼𝙒𝙔𝙀𝙍 𝙃𝙐𝙎𝘽𝘼𝙉𝘿

female!reader , headcanons , lawyer!husband

lawyer husband! who you met after you graduated from law school

lawyer husband! who's a few years older than you but who really cares

lawyer husband! who watches Legally Blonde with you on your first movie date

lawyer husband! who brings you on all of his trips

lawyer husband! who brings you flowers when he wins his cases

lawyer husband! who, when he looses his cases, sits in his office chair leaning back with a hand towel over his eyes and appreciates the glass of wine you bring him

lawyer husband! who's your Harvey Specter and you're his Dona

lawyer husband! who studies in the library with you admiring him

lawyer husband! who when asking you out, made a PowerPoint presentation on why he'd make the best boyfriend.

lawyer husband! who did the same when proposing to you

lawyer husband! who drives holding your hand

lawyer husband! who loves all the chocolate you buy for him

lawyer husband! who wears Armani suits and expensive cologne

lawyer husband! who wears the vintage Cartier watch you bought him for your first anniversary

lawyer husband! who believes that you should have a new pair of heels every week

lawyer husband! who sends you pictures of him working and you save them all on your phone

lawyer husband! who goes with you to your cases and watches you from the seats

lawyer husband! who showers you with kisses when you win

lawyer husband! who books a spa day for you when you loose your cases

lawyer husband! who always has an expensive bottle of wine ready to be poured

lawyer husband! who's the Emmett Richmond to your Elle Woods

lawyer husband! who wears his hair in a classic side part hairstyle

lawyer husband! who buys you Van Cleef & Arples Alhambra necklaces and earrings and buys himself matching Alhambra cufflinks

lawyer husband! who has a photo of him and you on your wedding day that sits on his desk

lawyer husband! who treats you like a porcelain doll

lawyer husband! who brushes the back of his hand against your palm

lawyer husband! who buys you the nicest clothes to make sure that you feel your absolute best at all times

lawyer husband! who loves you so so dearly

inspo from: 3am.universe on tiktok © 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙃𝙔𝙋𝙀𝙂𝙄𝙍𝙇 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 | modification and translation of my works on any platforms are strictly prohibited

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: You and Sangyeon have a little one-on-one time after your wedding. Pairing: Sangyeon x fem!reader Tropes: newlyweds au, established relationship au Genre: smut, fluff Rating: R 18+ Warnings: mentions of children, lots of kissing Smut Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, cum play Word Count: 1,260 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye

Before You Interact February Filth Masterlist

Listen to ♡ No Makeup by Exo

“Hey,” Sangyeon giggles, a goofy smile on his lips.

“Hi,” you smile back, making eye contact through the mirror.

Sangyeon steps closer and wraps his arms around you. You’re both still dressed up. Sangyeon has his suit on. He had tossed his jacket over the back of the armchair by your bedroom window. You still have your wedding gown on. Your hair is a little bit messier than when you first had it done this morning. The fun of your reception (mixed with some champagne and wine) led you to let loose and enjoy yourself after all the stress of planning and organizing your wedding was finally over. 

“We’re married,” he beams, leaning down to kiss your neck.

You match his smile, moving your head to allow him space to kiss your neck, “We’re married.”

“You wanna shower and head to bed?” He asks, still kissing your skin, “We had a long day.”

You hum, “That’s probably a good idea.”

Sangyeon pulls away to undo the laces up the back of your gown. His hand barely grazes against your skin, but the faint touch still makes a shiver run down your spine. When Sangyeon helps you step out of the dress, he offers you your silk bathrobe. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but your husband is always quite the gentleman. You tie the ribbon around your waist and wander toward the bathroom, passing by Sangyeon, who is carefully hanging your gown in the closet. You’re removing your makeup when your husband enters your en-suite. His white button-up is already open, letting you have a beautiful view of his muscular chest and abdomen.

“Enjoying your view?” He teases, a slight smirk on his lips as he tosses the shirt into your laundry basket.

“Very much so.” you match his energy.

Sangyeon comes up behind you again to help pull bobby pins and flowers from your hair. He does his best not to tug at any strands as he meticulously undoes the hairstyling. You continue to wipe away your makeup until your face is finally bare. Sangyeon cards his fingers through your hair, massaging your sore scalp. You hum contently, letting your eyes fall closed. When you look at him again, you see his eyes practically dripping with affection.

“What?” You ask, a small giggle invading your tone.

Sangyeon kisses your head, “I’m so damn lucky to call you my wife.”

You feel flustered suddenly and look away from him. Your husband kisses your cheek before stripping the rest of his clothes off and turning on the shower. You shake your head and remove your robe before joining him in the warm water. Even as you both shower off the day, Sangyeon still holds you close and continually kisses any place his can on your head, neck, and shoulders. The feeling of his skin against yours under the warm spray of the shower makes a warm, comforting feeling flood through your chest. 

You practically collapse into your bed once you’re fully clean and finished your night routine. Sanyeon strides out behind you, his pajama pants low on his hips. Sangyeon crawls into bed next to you and pushes a lock of your damp hair out of your eyes.

“Tired?” He asks in a sweet tone.

“Mmm,” you mumble back, “I’m tired, but I’m more happy to lay down finally.”

You scoot up on your bed and curl up against your husband’s bare chest. He wraps an arm around you and rubs his thumb against your shoulder. It’s comforting, and you could ask for nothing more than this. The both of you stay silent for a few minutes, just enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

“Sweetheart,” Sangyeon nearly whispers, “do you think your mom was serious about grandkids already?”

You shrug, “She’s been saying stuff like that since she met you. You know mom just wanted to get you stuck in the family as soon as she could.” You laugh lightly.

You feel Sangyeon shift underneath you, “I think she’s right.”

“Sangyeon?” You question, lifting your head up from his shoulder.

Sangyeon searches your eyes for any apprehension, “I think it could be nice to start at least trying. Even if we aren’t seriously trying yet.”

You don’t respond with words. Instead, you lean up a little and kiss him. It’s a soft kiss, but the intentions behind it are anything but hidden. Sangyeon sighs happily into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist instantly. That familiar, comforting heat spreads through your body as you hear Sangyeon let out a low growl. He rolls you both over so you’re caged under him. 

“Are you gonna let me fuck you full, sweetheart?” He whispers against your lips.

You nod, “Want it. Want it so bad.”

Sangyeon tugs his pants down and pushes your robe open, leaving you both mostly bare again. You whimper as he grinds against you. His lips only leave yours for a brief moment to take your hand in his and kiss your wedding rings before lacing your fingers together. The small gesture fills your stomach with butterflies. You feel him grind harder as he finally gets fully hard. Sangyeon whispers a small check to ensure you truly want to continue. The moment he pushes into you, you swear you ascend. 

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” He groans, thrusting into you smoothly.

“Sangyeon,” you moan, “want you to cum inside me so bad. Wanna be bred by you. Please!”

A switch flips inside him, and he starts fucking you at an animalistic pace. He’s still careful with you, but this sudden change of pace has you seeing stars. With each thrust, he growls or moans something about fucking you full of his cum. Each comment makes you whimper and buck your hips up to meet his thrusts. His hand that was laced with yours releases you and wanders down your chest until it finds its way between your bodies. He starts to rub small soft circles against your clit. When you clench around him, he lets out a low growl.

“Your pretty pussy is gonna look so good with my cum leaking out of it.” He muses, “Maybe I should keep you stuffed with my cum all the time.”

“Babe, fuck!” You moan in response.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your clavicle, “We have a week and a half off for our honeymoon. I know we were going to have fun and explore the island when we arrived, but maybe I should keep you locked up in our bungalow and fuck you full all day, every day. Doesn’t that sound like a dream, sweetheart?”

You reach up and tangle your fingers in his hair as your orgasm washes over you. Sangyeon’s follows close behind. He fucks his cum into you as your walls flutter around him. The feeling of his cum inside you is one that you never want to forget. If you say it out loud, he would probably never let you leave bed again. As he pulls out, he watches how a small bit of his cum drips out immediately. He swipes his cum up with his thumb and starts to play with your clit again, using it as a lubricant. You whimper and squirm against his ministrations. Just as you feel heat start to swirl in your belly, he pushes his fingers into you.

“We can’t let my cum go to waste, can we?” 

You shake your head in response.

“Let’s keep this pretty pussy plugged up until I can fuck you full of more cum then.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @deoboyznet @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Thirty-Eight

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Little Bit of Angst.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.6k

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You’re hungover and in misery as Perona excitedly chatters about wedding dresses, hair styles, and flowers.

Your head throbs with the remnants of last night’s indulgence, each pulse a reminder of the fun and chaos that followed. You drag yourself to the small dining table, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the porthole. The smell of coffee promises salvation, but it does little to dull the ache in your skull.

Perona, vibrant and energetic despite the early hour, prances around the room. Her voice is a high-pitched melody that grates on your sensitive ears this morning. “So, I was thinking about wedding dresses! Have you ever considered a mermaid style? It would look stunning on you.”

You mumble something noncommittal and sip your coffee. The bitter liquid scalds your tongue, but at least it distracts you from the pounding in your head. Perona continues unabated, flitting from one idea to another with boundless enthusiasm.

“And flowers! Oh, we must have roses. Red roses would match Shanks’ hair perfectly! Don’t you think? And maybe some lilies for contrast. Oh I know! White lilacs!”

You force a smile, though it probably looks more like a grimace. You won’t ever be caught, not even dead, with roses. “Sure, Perona. Whatever you think is best.”

She claps her hands together, her excitement growing with every word. “And hairstyles! You could wear your hair up with some delicate braids woven in. Or down with loose curls cascading over your shoulders.”

Your head feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise as she describes intricate hairstyles that sound more like torture devices than beauty enhancements.

You take another sip of coffee, feeling a slight sense of clarity return. Perona's enthusiasm, while overwhelming, is endearing in its own way. You take a deep breath and decide it's time to share your thoughts on the wedding dress.

"Perona," you say, trying to catch her attention amid her flurry of ideas. "I appreciate all your suggestions, but there's something specific I want for my dress."

She stops mid-twirl, her big black eyes locking onto yours with curiosity. "Oh? What do you have in mind?"

"I want the dress to be flowing," you begin, choosing your words carefully. "Not heavy and definitely not form-fitting."

Perona's face lights up with understanding. "Flowing! Like a gentle breeze on the sea, right? Something that moves with you?"

You nod, relieved she seems to understand. "Exactly. I want it to feel light and free, not like I'm being weighed down or restricted. I've already had one wedding dress I absolutely hated cage me, I am not doing that again."

She taps her chin thoughtfully, then snaps her fingers as if an idea just struck her. "I know just the thing! We can use layers of soft chiffon or silk. They’ll give you that flowing effect without adding any weight."

"That sounds perfect," you say, feeling a bit of the morning's tension ease away.

"And for the bodice," she continues, clearly on a roll now, "we can make it simple and elegant, maybe with some delicate lace details but nothing too tight or constricting."

You smile genuinely this time. "That’s exactly what I was hoping for."

Perona beams at you, her excitement contagious but no longer overwhelming. "I can't wait to start designing it! We’ll make sure it’s everything you dreamed of."

Your heart swells with gratitude for her enthusiasm and understanding. "Thank you, Perona. It means a lot to me."

"Of course!" she says brightly. "This is your special day. It should be perfect in every way."

You finish your coffee and feel a sense of relief wash over you as the headache subsides a bit more. The thought of a light, flowing dress feels like freedom compared to the heavy burdensome wedding dress your mother had ordered.

Perona claps her hands with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Alright, let’s get started on that dress!"

Before you can ask what she means, a chill fills the room. Your breath catches in your throat as you watch ghostly figures materialize out of thin air. Translucent and eerie, they hover around Perona, their eyes glowing faintly.

You step back, your heart pounding. "What... what are those?"

Perona laughs lightly, clearly amused by your reaction. "Oh, don’t worry! These are my little helpers."

The ghosts begin to move with purpose, gathering materials from seemingly nowhere. Bolts of chiffon and silk float through the air as if carried by an invisible breeze. You watch in awe and slight terror as the spectral beings work seamlessly together.

"How... how is this possible?" you stammer, unable to tear your eyes away from the surreal scene.

Perona tilts her head with a proud smile. "It’s my Devil Fruit power. I ate the Horo Horo no Mi, which allows me to create and control ghosts."

You blink, trying to process what she just said. The concept of Devil Fruits isn’t foreign to you—being on a pirate ship has exposed you to many strange abilities—but seeing it in action is something else entirely.

"Devil Fruit power," you repeat slowly, still watching the ghosts as they cut and sew with otherworldly precision.

"Yes!" Perona says enthusiastically. "They’re super handy for all sorts of things. And today, they’re going to help make your perfect wedding dress so you can be ready for tomorrow!"

One of the ghosts floats closer to you, holding up a piece of delicate lace for your approval. You swallow hard and nod, still feeling a bit overwhelmed but beginning to see the magic in it all.

"This is... unexpected but appreciated,” you admit softly.

Perona beams at you, clearly pleased with your reaction. "I knew you'd come around! Just wait until you see the final product."

The room buzzes with ethereal energy as the ghosts continue their work. You watch in fascination as layers of chiffon and silk come together, forming the beginnings of a dress that seems to float like a gentle sea breeze.

Despite the initial shock, you start to feel a sense of excitement build within you. The ghosts move gracefully around Perona's guiding hands, stitching together not just fabric but also a piece of your new life—one filled with freedom and adventure.

As you sit there, witnessing this ghostly ballet unfold before your eyes, a smile tugs at your lips. You had been wondering how your wedding dress was supposed to be magically finished by tomorrow. Your previous one had taken months. You turn your mind back to the ghost, they now seem busy with different bolts of cloth.

The delicate lace and soft chiffon seem to float together, forming a dress that embodies the freedom you crave. The odd beings dart in and out, their translucent forms creating a swirl of shifting colors.

Perona stands nearby, directing the spectral seamstresses with a confident wave of her hand. “Make sure the hem is even,” she instructs, her voice carrying a note of authority. The ghosts respond immediately, adjusting the fabric with care.

Your eyes trace the intricate patterns taking shape. Each stitch appears perfect, guided by an unseen hand. The dress begins to resemble a dream made tangible—a flowing creation that seems to capture the essence of your newfound freedom.

“I am never going to look that these ghosts the same,” you murmur, unable to look away.

Perona turns to you with a bright smile. “I told you they were useful! Just wait until it’s finished.”

The ghosts continue their work, adding delicate touches here and there—a subtle lace trim, a gentle pleat in the fabric. You can hardly believe your eyes as the dress takes form before you, each detail more exquisitely simple than the last.

One ghost hovers near you, holding up a piece of ribbon for your approval. You reach out tentatively, your fingers brushing against its cool, intangible form. The sensation sends a shiver through your body, but you nod in agreement.

“That’s perfect,” you say softly.

The ghost seems to understand and swiftly integrates the ribbon into the dress design. Perona watches with satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“You’re going to look absolutely stunning,” she declares with certainty.

As the final touches are added, you feel a swell of emotion rise within you. This dress isn’t just fabric and thread—it’s a symbol of your journey, your escape from a life of confinement into one of adventure and possibility.

“Thank you,” you say, turning to Perona. “This means more to me than I can put into words. I never thought I’d find myself willingly put on a wedding dress again.”

Perona waves off your gratitude with a dismissive flick of her hand but smiles warmly. “Just wait until Shanks sees you in it.”

The mention of Shanks sends a flutter through your heart. You imagine his reaction when he sees you walking towards him in this dress—free and unburdened by the past. It was a difficult thought because he had already seen you in a wedding dress and a picture of perfection. This time would be different. No desperation. No panic.

The ghosts finish their work with a final flourish, and Perona steps back to admire their creation. “There,” she says proudly. “All done.”

You gaze at the dress in wonder, unable to believe how quickly it came together yet how perfect it is in every way. It’s everything you hoped for—a reflection of your newfound freedom and the life you're building for yourself on the open sea.

Perona claps her hands together, breaking through your reverie. “Alright! Time for a fitting!” Your head throbs and you sink into your seat, wishing you could disappear into the furniture just from the scheming look in her eyes.

Your hangover had disappeared but you were decidedly finished with standing front of Perona while her ghosts fluttered and fussed around you. You wedding dress just had to look nice, not be perfect. The first chance you had you had darted out of the room and disappeared from her sights.

You'd spent the better part of the afternoon hiding from Perona and the ghosts she sent to find you, mostly successful in your endeavor. You finally find a moment of peace in the atrium, the tranquility of the flowers and foliage calming your frazzled nerves. Just as you’re about to lose yourself in the serenity, a ghostly figure materializes before you. Its eyes glow faintly, and it hovers with an almost impatient air.

“Dinner is ready,” it intones, its voice echoing softly. “Neg-a-tive!”

You sigh, knowing there's no escaping Perona's ethereal messengers. “Alright, I’m coming.”

You follow the ghost back to the dining room where the crew has already gathered. The table is laden with an assortment of dishes, and the lively chatter fills the space with warmth. You take your seat next to Shanks, who gives you a knowing smirk.

“Managed to escape Perona’s clutches, did you?” he teases, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Barely,” you reply with a wry smile. “She’s relentless.”

Dinner passes in a blur of laughter and several tales of how Shanks and Mihawk used to butt heads and clash swords. The food is delicious, you expected nothing less with Roux in the kitchen, and for a while you forget your earlier stress.

When dinner wraps up, you retreat to your bedroom, grateful for some solitude. You change into your nightgown and settle onto your bed with a book. Alone for Shanks has been banished to the bachelors suite by your crew. Benn and Hongo had seemed all too eager to drag Shanks away from you. The soft glow of the lantern casts gentle shadows on the walls as you lose yourself in the pages, your mind struggling to calm itself from the lack of sea and ship noises. Too quiet.

A creak at the door pulls you from your reading. You glance up to see Shanks slipping into the room, his movements surprisingly stealthy for someone so tall and broad-shouldered.

“Shanks,” you hiss in a whisper. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He closes the door quietly behind him and leans against it with a roguish grin. “Since when do I follow rules?”

You can’t help but giggle at his audacity and place the book to the side. “And what if someone sees you?”

“They won’t,” he assures you, crossing the room and extending his hand to you. “Besides, I wanted to see you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words and the endearing smile on his face, and you reach to take his hand. As he pulls you from the bed and twirls you against his body, you raise your eyebrow.

“I thought we agreed on no sneaking around,” you say softly, though there's no real reprimand in your tone. You expect nothing less than him sneaking into your room.

Shanks leans his forehead down to yours and brushes his nose against your own. “And I thought we agreed that I’d do anything to make sure you're happy.”

“You’re impossible,” you laugh.

“And yet,” he says, his voice low and teasing, “here I am.”

Your lips morph into a gentle smile and you slide your hand from his grasp to wrap your arms around his neck. Shanks jumps at the opportunity to then wrap his arm around your back and pull you against his chest.

Your fingers find their way to the back of his neck, threading through the red strands as you savor the moment. It’s intimate and charged with unspoken emotions, a silent exchange that speaks volumes more than words ever could. Foreheads pressing together, you bask in his embrace for a few more seconds before opening your eyes.

“Shanks,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the soft rustle of fabric.

“Hm?” His eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of tenderness and desire. Oh he wants to have all of you, he would if you'd let him.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself.  “You need to go.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “Go? But treasure—”

You place a finger against his lips, silencing him gently. “We agreed no sneaking around. You’re not supposed to see me until I meet you at the altar.”

A playful pout forms on his lips, making him look almost boyish despite his rugged features. “That’s not fair.”

You can’t help but giggle softly at his expression and pat his cheek. “Fair or not, it’s tradition. And I want to do this how I want.”

He sighs dramatically but relents, loosening his grip on you. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave.”

But just as he begins to pull away, he steals one last kiss from you—soft and lingering, filled with all the promises of what’s to come. Your heart flutters in response, making it even harder to let him go.

“Shanks,” you warn against his lips.

“I know,” he whispers back, finally stepping away. The warmth of his body leaves an almost tangible void in the space between you. "You're just too irresistible, treasure."

He walks to the door reluctantly, pausing for a moment as if contemplating one last act of rebellion. But then he turns back to you with a resigned smile. “See you at the altar?”

“See you at the alter," you promise, holding your hand against your chest while you lips yearn for the return of his. With that, Shanks disappears, the door clicking softly behind him. You let out a sigh and reach up to brush your fingers over your lips.

You return to bed after Shanks leaves, the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. Sleep comes surprisingly easily, the day's excitement and anticipation finally giving way to exhaustion. Hours pass in peaceful slumber until a gentle but firm hand shakes you awake.

"Linaria," a deep voice murmurs in the darkness.

You blink, groggy and disoriented. "Mihawk?" you whisper, recognizing the silhouette of his lean frame against the dim light filtering through the window.

He nods, his hawk-like eyes glinting. "I'm here to complete the bride kidnapping ceremony, should you be inclined," he states matter-of-factly.

A giggling snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. “A third time, huh? Why not?" you say, amused by the absurdity of it all.

Without further ado, Mihawk scoops you up effortlessly, hauling you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing. Your laughter bubbles up again, echoing through the quiet room as he strides out into the hallway.

As you hang upside down and your lavender hair swaying with each step Mihawk takes, you can't help but find the situation hilariously surreal and continue to laugh.

Suddenly, a voice pierces the night. "Mihawk! What do you think you're doing with my bride?"

You lift your head to see Shanks emerging from another hallway, his eyes wide with alarm and fury. When Mihawk increases his speed you burst out laughing yet again when Shanks' eyes bulge. Before he can reach you, Benn and Lucky Roux appear out of nowhere and tackle him to the ground.

"Let her go!" Shanks roars from beneath the weight of his friends.

Benn's laughter mingles with Lucky Roux's hearty chuckle as they pin Shanks down. "It's tradition, Captain," Benn says, barely able to contain his amusement.

"Tradition or not," Shanks grumbles, struggling against their hold, "that's my bride he's carrying off!"

Mihawk doesn't break stride or even glance back at the commotion behind him. You wave playfully at Shanks over Mihawk's shoulder, your giggles infectious even to those watching from afar.

"See you at the altar!" you call out cheerfully as Mihawk carries you away into the night.

As it turns out, Mihawk had prepared his coffin ship with a special bottle of your favorite wine and simply planned on sailing off the coast until morning. So you sit in the ship, dressed in your night gown with a glass of wine in your hand as Kuraigana Island sits off in the distance.

You take a sip of the wine, enjoying its rich flavor as the gentle rocking of Mihawk's coffin ship lulls you into a sense of peace. The moonlight casts a silver glow on the water, and for a moment, everything feels surreal.

Mihawk sits across from you, his eyes observing you with a quiet intensity. The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the shared understanding of what tonight represents.

He breaks the silence first. “How did you meet Shanks?"

You smile, recalling the day that changed your life. "I met him at the port. I was fleeing an arranged marriage, dressed in my wedding gown and desperate for escape."

Mihawk's eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued. "And he just took you in?"

You nod, setting your glass down. "Yes, he saw I was in distress and decided to help me despite knowing it would bring trouble."

Mihawk leans back, considering your words. "Shanks always had a soft spot for damsels in distress," he muses.

Your smile widens at that. "He may be a pirate, but he has a good heart. He took care of me when no one else would."

Mihawk's gaze softens just a fraction. "And now you're to be his bride."

The weight of those words settles over you, bringing with it a mixture of emotions—joy, anticipation, and a hint of nervousness. "Yes," you say softly. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. We didn't get here without argument or difficulty, we've had plenty of arguments and tiffs. Also silent treatments, he—doesn’t care for those.”

Mihawk's gaze remains steady on you, his hawk-like eyes filled with a rare softness. "Linaria," he begins, his voice low and respectful, "you are not a fool for wanting to marry Shanks."

You blink in surprise, the words unexpected but deeply reassuring. "Really?" you ask, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. "Because you wouldn't be the first person to have told me that."

He nods slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "It takes great strength and confidence to choose your own path, especially when it goes against everything you've been taught."

"You really believe that?" you ask, your voice soft in the night air.

Mihawk nods, his eyes unwavering. "Yes. And I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it."

You let his words sink in, feeling a newfound sense of validation. The moonlight dances on the water's surface, casting shimmering reflections that seem to mirror your own turbulent thoughts. You take another sip of wine, your fingers playing around with the stem.

"Thank you," you say again, more firmly this time. "For everything, and your hospitality."

Mihawk simply nods, his gaze shifting to the horizon where Kuraigana Island sits in the distance. "You should get some sleep, the night will not last forever."

You take Mihawk's advice to heart and decide to try to get some rest. You finish your wine, setting the glass down gently on the small table in the center of the ship. As you rise from your seat, Mihawk stands as well, his movements fluid and almost predatory in their grace.

"Thank you for this," you say, offering him a grateful smile. "I needed a moment away from everything."

Mihawk nods, his expression unreadable but not unkind. "Rest well, Linaria."

You head below deck to the small but comfortable cabin Mihawk had prepared for you. You slip under the covers and relax from the familiar sensations of being on a ship. Your thoughts drift back to Shanks and the life you've built together over the past year and a half. You’ve fought tooth and nail to get here, but is panic going to surface when you put your wedding dress on?

Date Published: 8/23/24

Last Edit: 8/23/24

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[lunalikestowriteanddraw]

Okay, I normally don’t post my art if I use a base as a starting point (which, I’ll be frank, I tend to do. Mostly just because I view them as dolls and they help me get character/outfit designs down), but yall. I had a fucking VISION. I started this yesterday at like 1 in the morning, didn’t stop until I finished the outline (at 3 in the morning), and I just finished it today (also at 1 in the morning…huh). And I am so fucking proud of everything in this and I just need to share oh my GOD

It’s he!!!! It’s human Kremy Lecroux!!!! And I know I don’t have his top hat, and that’s for a few reasons

1) the hair was already a learning experience on its own and I didn’t want to overcomplicate things and get myself frustrated because of it

2) the hairstyle I went with wouldn’t really allow for his hat

3) I can’t draw hats. Like at all. They always look like shit.

But anyway! I am so proud of the hair yall. I didn’t actually want this hairstyle, i actually wanted them to be down, but the hair just want hairing. The Timelapse doesn’t show the amount of times I hit the back arrow (which was a lot. Especially in the sketching phase. Especially for the hair), but it was A LOT. So I just kinda went with this. I think it fits Kremy though, probably moreso now than it would’ve before

Also, I used this watercolor brush when sketching out the hair, and then when it came to outlining, I traced over the individual brush strokes. I think it worked out beautifully. I then used that same brush later for the individual texturing when i started on the detail work.

Also, that tattoo on his neck was actually inspired by Kremy’s cane and Dr Facilier as a whole (I actually wanted to use the background of Dr Facilier’s shop during “Friends on the Other Side” as the background for this, but they all had Dr Facilier in the picture and I didn’t feel like copying all those details). That’s also the reason why I gave Kremy a shadow, instead of the thick white outline I have a tendency to do on my other works.

Also, notice the ring? I’m just gonna say that’s his wedding ring. Bc why not. It’s cute, it’s him, and the ruby in the middle is vaguely inspired by this fanart I saw on here that essentially had Kremy using his wedding ring as a makeshift lighter on the rare occasion his personal space heater of a husband isn’t there to light his cigarette for him. Just…ignore that it’s NOT on his left ring finger

(Btw, it’s also loosely based on my own personal headcanon—where essentially Kremy, Gideon, and the pixies all got these magical fae wedding rings that magically appeared on their fingers bc it was technically a fae pact so…)

And please ignore the hella inconsistent shading. I had intended on doing highlights as well, but I forgot. I also forgot his mustache. Ah well. I think you can still get the Kremy vibe without it lol.

Idk man I am just so fucking happy with this. I very rarely get so into a drawing that I just…draw. Like this. Most of my artworks lately are just simple shapes and flat colors.

[nothingenoughao3]

We interrupt our regularly-scheduled Reanimator reblogs to address a very important Godfather-related point made in this post by @frodo-of-the-nine-fingers.

Visual storytelling used to be A Thing in films. Some directors still do it (lookin' at you, Ari Aster, in equal parts terror and admiration), so I'm not arguing that it's totally lost to time, but... kind of, maybe. Compared to what I'm about to discuss, it feels like it's gone.

See, there's this thing about hair. It once was that hair in movies could matter a lot! There were not clauses in contracts requiring that the actors always look fuckable, and so actors sometimes were made to look gross or messy! This is where we get tropes about, say, Shaving The Beard or a Meaningful Haircut. You grew the beard/hair because you were overwhelmed with tragedy and immobilized by grief, torment, and anhedonia. When you were ready to shuck that off, even temporarily, you'd cut off the hair/beard, typically while staring at yourself in a mirror.

Double points if the mirror was the door to a medicine cabinet, so there could be a shot of the camera/you looking into the cabinet as you set the scissors away, then a dramatic click of the mirror closing to reveal you with your new, stern, cleaned-up features. But I digress.

Hair was, in other words, chosen for reasons other than "This hairstyle will make the character visually recognizable when they are a tiny CGI doll puppeted around during the hyperdense finale".

Now we could also probably make a post about the hair of the Corleone women, but in this post, it's just dudes. Sorry for being gay.

First let's look at Vito.

In the first second film, we see Vito as a boy. His hair is loose, slightly parted down the middle. This connotes immaturity, boyishness, and innocence. His hair isn't particularly styled or controlled. That last word will be important for this analysis.

By the time he's an adult, we see that Vito's already adopted the style he'll maintain for the rest of his life.

(i cannot with you robert. how dare you.)

Vito's hair is a simple, but powerful visual metaphor for control. Vito was out of control when he was a small boy, and it cost him his entire family and his safety in his homeland. It nearly cost him his life. No matter how gentle he seems, the truly gentle, childish, boyish Vito is gone forever, and he will never return.

He will keep himself and his family safe, even if he has to fucking kill people to do it.

Vito keeps his hair under the same kind of control he keeps the rest of his life under. The only times we see it out of place are when he's out of control--after he's shot and never really recovers.

Even more so, as seen above, after he loses Sonny.

The Corleone boys' hair also reflects how closely they adhere to the family, but more than that, how closely they are adhering to Vito's personal values. So, for example, Sonny does not have this hairstyle. He's got loose, kind of curly/frizzy hair which is never styled like Vito's.

(god he is devastatingly attractive it is untrue)

Clearly, Sonny's hair reflects his character: he's wild. Untamed. He can be the Don, and he serves very well when he's a wartime Don, but he never really adopts Vito's perspective on life/family management/Donship. We see this in how he doesn't pay much attention during the scenes where Vito's giving favors at Connie's wedding, even though he has at least two daughters and will have to do this ritual himself at least twice. He thinks he'll make his own way--beat up a photographer, bang Lucy--and he won't have to worry about all this crap once Pop turns it all over to him.

Then there's Tom.

(hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhggggggh look at him)

Tom has his hair slicked back from the very first time we see him, and he keeps it that way throughout both films. He is loyal to a fault. Not just to the mafia, but to Vito. When Tom tells Sonny he's as much a son to Vito as him or Mike, nobody argues with him. They all know it's true. And we, the audience, can literally see this loyalty in how Tom presents himself.

Notice, though, that Tom didn't say "I'm as much a son to him as you, Mike, or Fredo"? Yyyyeah.

Fredo starts off with the same kind of style as Michael, a more grown-up version of Vito's childhood hairstyle.

And a clearer shot of Michael because why not this is a Pacino appreciation blog

(their faces have transported me to heaven, free of all sin)

These are more controlled versions of the same hair Vito had as a child. This communicates that Michael and Fredo are not part of the family. They're adults, they brush their hair and use product on it, but they don't style it like men. Despite being a soldier (in Mike's case) or casually involved in the family business (in Fredo's), they're both treated kind of like kids. They have the potential to grow into men, men like their father, but they haven't yet.

Both Fredo and Michael do adopt their father's style at specific points in the narrative, and it's relevant to note when this happens.

When Michael is in Sicily, after making his bones, he still parts his hair. He's still maintaining his separation from his family. Despite him being utterly and totally dependent on his family for survival, given he's being hunted by half of the country.

(to be a bruise on that man's cheek)

It's Apollonia's death that changes everything for him.

But first, hats. Hats are another thing with Michael: he wears them when he's uncomfortable in a social situation, as though he's 'hiding', then takes them off to show he's more relaxed and comfortable. Frex, him wearing his uniform hat when he arrives at the wedding, then doffing it after he's been there a while. Likewise, he wears a hat in Sicily to literally show the audience that he is in hiding. He ditches it once he starts courting Apollonia, because now he's not in hiding--he ratted himself out and he's trying to integrate.

So when Michael meets Kay outside the school, and he's wearing a hat and keeps it on the entire interaction... we know, without being told, that he is telling porkie pies. He is lying. He is hiding in plain sight. More than that, it tells us he's not really comfortable or happy being there. He's doing this because he feels like he should, and not because he wants to.

(Notice, for instance, that when Michael is lying out of his asshole to Carlo about his chances of surviving the next ten minutes? Michael's wearing a hat for that entire scene.)

The other purpose of the hat is to disguise what's going on with Mikey's hair. He starts out with the newsboy cap in Sicily, so we can't see whether he has been fundamentally changed by making his bones. Then we see... no, he hasn't, he's not really that bothered by shooting two dudes. Okay. Then he goes to see Kay post-return and the hat disguises how deeply Apollonia's loss has affected him, until the next scene, where we see...

... oh.

It's still parted. But it's far closer to Vito's traditional hairstyle than before. Far closer. We are shown without being told how profoundly Michael was affected by all of his losses in Sicily (we can definitely include Sonny's death, and the general PTSD of that carbomb was meant for me, along with Apollonia's demise). He is transforming. Corroding into Vito.

Now the next major scene lets us compare Michael's new hair directly with Fredo. Fredo's hair has also changed. From the fluffy semi-parted look from before, we now see him like this:

His hair is slicked back--severely, sharply. However, when added to the rest of his outfit, it looks like he's a parody of Vito. He's trying to hit the same notes, but he's failing miserably. He's too tone-deaf to get the song right. But Michael?

Still very slightly parted, but that boyishness is almost gone.

While Fredo's transformation seems fake, it's more that he never really makes it. However, from this point on, he is involved in family business, the way Pop would have wanted him to be--at a distance, where his clowning does the least damage--so his new Vitoesque hair remains for the rest of Parts 1 and 2.

Is there, then, a specific scene where Michael's hair is unambiguously, entirely slicked back in a Pure Vito? Not with the little knocked part left in the front, as though some vestige of his own personality remained?

Well, yes. There is.

There's so much going on during the Baptism Scene that this understandably is left by the wayside, but we almost never see Michael with his hair exactly like this ever again.

Part 2 shows him with hair that's sometimes parted (when he's doing public-facing stuff) and sometimes slicked back (when he's doing Mobster Stuff). We do see him with this perfectly-slicked back look when he meets Hyman Roth. You know, when he's trying his hardest to project a sense of Vito-ness, of Donitude.

Overall, though, nothing really tops Michael's look in the Baptism Scene. He has fully embraced Vito's life, Vito's philosophy, and Vito's plan for the total destruction of all their enemies. He may be a little bit more Michael later on, but in this specific moment, Michael is Vito.

He is exerting total and complete control over dozens of lives, ending or changing them for the worse across the board.

Because, when he was still young and kind of boyish, he lost his family and his homeland and, very nearly, his own life.

And he will keep his family, The Family, and himself safe, even if he has to kill everyone outside The Family to do it.

[mariaxxxxx]

Chapter 5 - The pleasure and pain you offer me ( +18)

Summary: To save your nation You are given as a bride to a sea god.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

A/N: Reader is heavily implied to be Mexican but i tried to keep it as free to the imagination as possible

A/N: Hi people! I hope you haven't abandoned me. I apologize for taking so long to post the new chapter. I underwent a medical procedure and am still in the recovery process.

Work count: 2.958

Serie materialist

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

You were taken to the hut where you first saw K'uk'ulkan. The man left her on the ground and walked away with impressive speed. You were still out of orbit when your maids surrounded you and began to take off your dress, jewelry and ornaments. Her hairstyle was undone leaving her hair loose. Her magnificent wedding dress was replaced by one in a light, semi-transparent fabric. With the work completed, your maids left with mischievous smiles on their lips, leaving you alone in the room.

You needed all your strength. Not physically, at least at that moment. But you had to gather all your courage and self-control during that time when you were alone in the cabin. After all, when K'uk'ulkan entered that environment, her current husband, would enjoy what was rightfully his; You. Your mother and priestesses had prepared you for this moment. They instructed him that the marriage bed could be good for both of them; You must please and be pleased too.

However, even with the instructions received, you still felt nervous, you had never even kissed a man and now you had to consummate the marriage. You knew that you would be naked in front of each other, you knew that it would touch you that he should enter You to plant his seed, and you still knew, from listening to one of the priestesses, that during the first time pain might arise. One of them told him, just before the procession, that a woman's first time hurt as much as burning her skin on a hot metal plate. Her mother scolded the priestess for uttering such foolish words, turned to You and said: “It is just a nuisance, my daughter, it will pass. How to thread a ball of yarn through the eye of a needle. It's a question of space.”

Your mother's words echoed through your mind making things even more confusing and frightening for You. To try to distract yourself, You observed for the first time, truly, the private environment that was your husband's and now hers. There were richly designed paintings on the walls, some still incomplete. You ran your fingertips between the images, admiring the lines and details. You found it in your own mind to ask what those drawings meant to the culture you now belonged to.

You were startled when you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. You turned around, watching your husband near the entrance. She was not as well dressed as before; his serpent-shaped ornament was taken off, as were his golden shoulder pads and bracelets and his cape. All that remained on her body were green shorts with white details.

“I apologize for this, my queen. Talokan may have harsh traditions for foreigners.”

"Everything is fine." You said as you clasped your hands in front of your body. “I don't know exactly what happened so I haven't had time to form any opinions about what it was all about.”

He found your answer funny and was ready to laugh, a lot.

“In Talokan, after the wedding, the bride and groom are undressed and taken to the wedding bed by their guests.”

“Oh!” the sound escaped his mouth. “Remind me to thank the man who brought me here safely. I wouldn’t feel comfortable being undressed in front of everyone.”

“I’ll thank him myself for not allowing anyone to undress her.”

“So...” You said, trying not to show your nervousness. “What do these paintings mean?”

“I made them myself.” He said looking at them with great pride. “They tell the story of my birth. It’s not complete yet.”

“I didn’t know my husband was such a talented artist.”

He let out a cute giggle and seemed to blush at his words. You thought his reaction to such a flippant compliment was funny.

“I appreciate the compliment.”

“I hope our children have your talent.” You blurted out.

“I hope they are as beautiful as their mother.” He is approaching You, like a serpent about to pounce on its prey, a hungry serpent before the most succulent bird. “You, my queen, are the most beautiful woman there is.”

“My husband didn’t pay close attention to the other women.” You said as you flinched slightly at his touch on your cheek.

“I never argue with myself, I know what I’m saying, I say that my wife is the most beautiful woman there is.” He whispered with the rest close to his, eliciting a smile from You.

“I appreciate the compliment, my husband.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.” He replied. “It's an observation” He starts a trail of kisses down your neck. “Come with me, my queen.”

K'uk'ulkan guided you to a part of the hut where there was a circular reed large enough to take up the entire space. You were surprised that the piece of furniture fit in a seemingly tight space. You could, one day, ask him how the architectural system of that place worked, but his thoughts were more interested in what he would do with You on the padded furniture.

"What should I do now?" You asked looking at him. His eyebrows arched into an expression of disbelief. You felt like an idiot in that moment for asking something so stupid.

“Anything my wife wants.” He said as he approached You. “Tell me what your heart desires.” He brought his face close to his, their lips almost touching.

You didn't know what your heart wanted, but your body demanded that man, needed him. You advanced on him, truly kissing him for the first time, it was awkward and awkward at first, but your husband was willing to guide you. When You finally got the hang of it, the kiss became pure desire and passion, much more than You could have expected.

K'uk'ulkan took you in his arms, without stopping to kiss you for a single moment on the way to the reeds, he put you on your feet and took off, or rather, tore off your dress, leaving you completely naked for the delight of his eyes. .

"So beautiful." He whispered as he ran his black eyes over her uncovered body.

His chin was pulled forward and your lips crashed against his once again. You returned the kiss in a few seconds. His tongue pushed her lips and they parted welcoming him very willingly. The hand that held his jaw snaked towards his and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss making your mind spin and your heart flutter. His hand grabbed his chest, searching for something to hold on to while the other was around his neck.

You gently pushed him away, panting; your eyes met his which sent goosebumps across your skin. His chest heaved, his eyelids trembled and his legs were as soft as leaves. K'uk'ulkan held You by the waist, preventing You from moving away from him. His lips didn't stay away from yours for long, they brushed against yours once again, causing waves of electricity to course through your body.

"Sweet." He murmured against your lips, opening his eyes. K'uk'ulkan seemed very happy to see his current state. He hovered over You with a beautiful smile pulled on his lips while yours could barely be felt. He slid his hand down her shoulders, his fingers caressing the soft skin.

You let out a startled cry as you fell backwards into the reeds with your husband hovering over you. He seemed happy with your reaction as the beaming smile never left him. Her husband bent down and ran his fingers over the space between her breasts, leaving a hot trail wherever he went.

“I will take good care of you, my love.” He spoke while leaning on his shins, placing himself between her legs. He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he held her foot with one hand and brushed his fingers against her belly. He was slow in his actions wanting You to feel all the pleasure he could provide. When K'uk'ulkan's fingers brushed against your intimacy You let out a sigh and a loud moan.

"My husband." You whispered, as your heart pounded in your chest. He laughed at the situation, he seemed to enjoy the way you looked miserable under his touches. He began to plant delicate kisses on your inner thigh, You shivered, and dug his fingers into the sheets beneath You.

“K’uk’ulkan… oh Gods!” You screamed when you felt tongue and lips on your pussy. You struggled as you felt the mix of strange but pleasurable reactions. K'uk'ulkan opened her legs even further and began to devour her pussy. You could feel the cool jade of his nose ornament brushing against your sensitive, wet flesh. In one quick movement he used his tongue to play with your entrance, the sudden action made your hips contract and you moved away. But before You could get anywhere he pulled You closer by your legs.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He said with a slight hint of irritation in his voice as he held your hips firmly.

“I’m sorry…” You spoke in a pathetic whisper. “I’m not going to walk away.”

“You are being sweet to me, my love. I appreciate that." He purred, his eyes fixed on yours. He dragged his lips along her skin and dove back into her pussy, which was getting wetter and wetter. You moaned and writhed at the explosion of pleasure that filled every cell in your body.

With his fingers digging into her hips, her husband dragged his tongue over and around her wet flesh. He ate You, caressing your sensitive pussy with his tongue tasting your sweetness. His hands slid into his black hair and his knees knocked against his body. A strange feeling slowly filled his body; first on the toes and went up with each stimulus.

“K'uk'ulkan...” You said urgently as the strange feeling seemed to grow more and more. “I...I...I think...” He ignored you and held your pussy even closer to his face. Licking, sucking with more desire.

One of his hands left her hips and pressed one of her breasts, squeezing and playing with the erect nipples. His tongue snaked around your pussy making you see stars. Her nails raked his scalp and her thighs squeezed her husband's broad shoulders. While his legs trembled, his heart jumped, his toes twitched and his fingers tightened on the sheets, K'uk'ulkan pulled with his lips a specific spot on her pussy, causing a violent result.

A scream of pleasure escaped your throat, heat coursed through your body trapping You in a world of wonder, your toes curled unable to hold steady and a wave of pure satisfaction filled every inch of your body. When the feeling went away, you were nothing more than a messy little thing staring at the cave ceiling. You were stuck in a trance of pleasure that you didn't feel your husband pulling out of your pussy. With the back of his hand he wiped the traces of pleasure from your mouth and beard, but he didn't do a good job: You got so wet that the remnants of your excitement remained in your beard.

With his eyes focused on her face, he ran his hand down her waist and across her ribs. The calloused palms felt his breasts and then the hands wandered to his neck. He held her jaw and gazed into her eyes, still clouded with pleasure.

“Ah my queen. My sweet and beautiful queen.” He said teasingly, a wicked smile stretched across her lips. You blushed at the words said and wondered how that man had so much power over you.

K'uk'ulkan stood back on his heels and removed the shorts he was wearing. You blushed violently and looked away when his waiting member became hard and rigid. He pushed his body until he was on top of you with his arms placed on either side of your head. He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours once more. He forced your lips apart and his tongue met his. He kissed you gently but intensely, teasing every corner of your lips until he kissed you more deeply.

His hips pressed against his as he began to rub his cock against her sensitive pussy. You sighed, separating your lips from his as his dick was pushed against his pussy. You moaned, your legs opening to have more of that contact, when you felt the head of his dick brush against a sensitive spot. Electricity shot up her spine at that action, but her mind was distracted by yet another voracious kiss from her husband. He bit your jaw, licked your chin with his tongue. You shivered in his arms from the excess stimulation on his body. You moaned his name more than once as he ground his hips into yours repeatedly.

You squirmed against his body, until your cheek was pressed against his, feeling his beard. He pressed his mouth once again against his as his hand roamed his body in gentle touches. He gently squeezed her breasts, passed her belly and guided it to the small space between her hips. Grasping the base of his cock, her husband ran the head up and down, and back again, up and down her pussy. His body shuddered against his and a huge gasp escaped You as he began to press against You.

His legs twitched trying to close before the intrusion. Sue's husband kept his knees open as he slowly entered You. When he was halfway in, You began to let out pained moans and whimpers at the opening his penis forced into his body. K'uk'ulkan muffled her sounds with gentle kisses to her lips.

“It’s okay, my love.” He murmured to You, gently. But You were convinced that he was too big for You. Your heart clenched in your chest and your belly twisted in pain when he was finally inside You. You felt his hips pressed against his. You can feel his member inside him, your breath caught in your throat. He risked a slow movement. You let out a loud moan, struggled, closing your eyes tightly and digging your nails into your husband's back. He let out a moan when he felt all of her heat envelop him.

“It hurts.” You said, trying to get rid of him on you and inside you.

“It will pass soon.” He warned as he gave another slow thrust. Even with all the lubrication present, the pain was unbearable; he was big and thick.

“Please...” You exclaimed, struggling beneath him. “It hurts.”

Without you noticing, a stubborn tear came out of your pupil and slid down your cheek. The discomfort was too much. The pain was too much. You had never felt such a sensation in your entire life. K'uk'ulkan guided his left hand over his face and wiped away the stubborn tear.

“I’ll stay put until you get used to it.” He whispered between moans and sighs.

You could feel your husband's hard cock inside you, still. It was a mixture of pressure and laceration. His lower abdomen burned with heat and heat. You looked at him bent over You, with his face pressed against your right shoulder letting out low moans. The pain didn't go away, it was as if the sensation was going to tear him in half. Her eyes closed, her fingers rubbed her nails hard across the entire length of his back.

His attention was diverted when he felt a hot liquid drip from his entrance. The curse had broken, as a trickle of blood ran down his thigh and dripped onto the sheets, a moan left his lips and echoed around you. It made you dizzy as the pain was replaced by a small tickle of something more welcoming that blossomed in your core as he remained in your torn canal.

“K'uk'ulkan...” He fixed his gaze with a sullen expression. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

His grimace was replaced by a wide smile. He brought his chest closer and removed his dick from her pussy. His lips exhaled a loud moan at the movement. A strange sensation surrounded his body that oscillated between pain, pleasure and fear.

He lowered his head and kissed you once again. He guided his cock into her pussy again, this time with one powerful thrust. He dragged his cock against her tight walls, pulling back only a fraction before repeating the thrusting motion. His face contorted with each thrust. His dick made sure you were full, feeling him touch your most sensitive spots. His eyes began to roll back, his eyelashes fluttering, as his legs began to shake with each hard thrust.

Her nails scratched his muscular back as a violent explosion of pleasure made it impossible to control her body hissing. You tightened your thighs around him as your walls clenched and rippled in that feeling of pleasure. K'uk'ulkan continued his thrusts, this time, chasing his own release.

Pleasure clouded your feelings as You felt the heat of your husband's seed being spilled deep inside You. His throat closed and You choked on the violent waves of electricity that coursed through his body. He left You filled with his hot seed, with eyes closed and limbs numb. At that moment it was as if the sun rose in the west and set in the east, the seas dried up and the mountains were blown by the wind like leaves.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Was Meghan's messy wedding hair a clapback to the Queen and Angela Kelly? by u/Admirable_Brush_7470

Was Meghan's messy wedding hair a clapback to the Queen and Angela Kelly? As we all know, Meghan's wedding hair was an absolute disaster - it looked like it was about to fall apart any second, and for a royal bride, this was highly unusual, given they have access to the best hairdressers in the world.As we also know, Meghan & Harry clashed with Angela Kelly about access to the tiara before the wedding:https://ift.tt/aqeT1YE Markle and Ms Kelly reportedly had a disagreement involving the tiara and the future Duchess of Sussex's hairdresser, Serge Normant. [...] The book Finding Freedom alleged Ms Kelly ignored requests from Kensington Palace to set up a date for a hair trial with Mr Normant. [...] "She didn’t make an appointment with Angela but said, ‘We’re at Buckingham Palace. We want the tiara. Can we have it now please?’ "Angela essentially said, ‘I’m very sorry, that’s not how it works. There’s protocol in place over these jewels. They’re kept under very tight lock and key. You can’t turn up and demand to have the tiara just because your hairdresser happens to be in town'."Regardless of the clash, here is how Meghan decided to turn up to her multi-million, internationally-televised wedding on that fateful day in May, 2018.Meghan's loose hairBelow is an article with a quote from Meghan's hairdresser:https://www.refinery29.com/en-us/2018/05/199792/meghan-markle-royal-wedding-hair"Before the ceremony, he wasn't sure what would be on Markle's head, aside from a tiara. Eventually, after storyboarding, they settled on something that was true to Markle's style. "'It's a messy bun, we call it," he continued. "Messy in a controlled way. Making sure it doesn't become a whole mess after a few hours! I don't overload the hair with products in general and certainly not on this day." Well that's a crock of shit, because her hairstyle was literally hanging by a thread and her photos are now forever marred as a result.But then we cut to the AFTERS, where we have a much more structured updo - one that could easily have been done for the ceremony itself, should she and her hairdresser have chosen to.More structured hair.The above hairstyle would have worked with her tiara and veil, without doubt. So, my question is, do you all think she requested the messy hair on purpose, to embarrass Angela Kelly? And make the Queen question Angela's judgment on the matter?After all, had the Queen said anything to Harry about Meghan's messy hair afterwards, Harry would have pointed to Angela Kelly and said 'it's her fault'.Interested in people's take on it. post link: https://ift.tt/BcAURHO author: Admirable_Brush_7470 submitted: November 03, 2023 at 03:39AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[angis-filthy-corner]

EEEEEK! Well you guys gave me the green light to yap so now you gotta deal with me. :3c

HAIR SHENANIGANS~

The women from Shino's clan were all very well known for their beauty, mainly thanks to those exotic, wavy manes of blue hair. 🥺 It reminded the Kiyomizu of the water they worshipped, and it was actually considered disrespectful to cut it, so my girl refuses to even if it's a hassle for fighting. /l-h Shino takes a lot of time and effort to make it look good, soft to the touch and smell nice, which Satoru loves~ He's one of the few who gets the privilege to braid it and put it into silly hairstyles. 😌 Tho when he gets a little too excited and hurts it-- GOD SAVE HIM. I imagine the Gojo clan wanted a wedding according to their traditions, which meant Shino had to cover her pretty hair and style it how they told her to. 😒 But in their private Kiyomizu-style wedding, she was allowed to wear it loose and free~ The Kiyomizu weddings are lengthy and very ceremonial, including the couple standing in a purified body of water, while the groom decorates the wife's hair with aquatic flowers and they recite their vows AAAAA.

[olivyh]

YOUR WRITING IS SERIOUSLY CRAZY GOOD!!! i love it so much..!!! makes me tear up a little../pos

was wondering if you could make something similar to your ruggie x reader 'Tired' fic...^_^ but with jamil!!! Completely okay if not!! make sure to have a good day, and again! LOVE UR WRITING SO SO MUCHH!!! <3

A/N: TYSM!!! <<<<333333333333333!! I'm so glad you enjoy my work! I hope I did this one justice (I have to learn how to write Jamil a little better;;;)

TW: Poisoning, injury

Braiding his own hair had always been therapeutic. 

His hair had been the envy of many and was the sole item that gained him the most attention. Jamil was often identified by his long locks that cascaded down his back, tied up in a loose ponytail with delicate braids weaved within. The small bells that clicked softly with his footsteps grounded him when he needed it the most- the often cool metal bringing him back to the present so he could do what he needed. 

When he was young, his hair was identical to Kalim's. It was cut short, the choppy bangs making way for his narrowed steel-grey eyes. Jamil never thought much about it- he'd even enjoyed looking like his friend, even if only for a few months until it would be cut short again. His frustration would be taken out through dancing- when he realized far too young that he would have to be limited and could never be the best at something. 

The day he'd realized that his fate was predetermined, that he would be doomed to live in someone else's shadow for the entirety of his life, he began to despise his hair. He pulled at it in the darkness of his bedroom, gasping through sobs as he writhed on the mattress and his breath hitched with every pained wail as he tugged at his sore scalp, wanting nothing more than to change, to be different. He didn't want to be a copy of someone else, he wanted a chance to be better than what he was. 

Jamil had seen the toll it had taken on his parents- their weary gazes as they sadly told their children to keep their heads low, the way their lips quivered when both Jamil and Najma were forced to enroll in self-defense classes to protect the Al-Asims, their hushed reassurances when both children would come back from the aforementioned classes, bruised and bleeding, shaking as they gazed up at their parents with wide, confused eyes. 

The Viper couple had always had an air about them- an air of hopelessness, of despair, almost. 

Jamil had wanted nothing more than to save them from that, to see his parents smile the way they had in their wedding photos. He would sometimes sit in his hallway and stare at those photos, trying to piece together what had gone wrong and why his parents never looked at one another like that anymore. Was it work? Was the constant pressure of being responsible for the Al-Asim's wellbeing getting to both of them? Jamil had sometimes thought about what it had been like for the both of them- born to servants, falling in love with servants and having children for the sole purpose of being servants. 

Jamil had known that they didn't have him and his sister for the purpose of being a servant. It was just... a coincidence. His existence was merely coincidence. 

A coincidence that had brought tears to his eyes when he first realized it, and one that he hopes his sister will never find out (he knows that she figured it out already, and he tried to ignore the way her muffled cries drifted into his room that night).

He had started growing out his hair in near-defiance. A way to prove his own freedom, to make his own decisions. He could do what he wanted to his hair- he could dye it, cut it, braid it. His hair was his freedom, and he had spent hours trying to find the right oils and shampoos to use, experimenting with different temperatures and seeing how the air around him affected it. He had tried hairstyles so late in the night that his arms ached from the effort well into the next morning. 

His hair by middle school was well past his shoulders and was already the object of his sister's whining and jealousy. His parents asked him why he didn't cut it, and he had fought them on it for weeks. 

Running his hands through his hair was his therapy, styling it was his own form of meditation when his heart felt as though it was going to burst from the pressure and the workload gave him migraines that pounded his skull until he took a well-deserved nap (which he rarely had the time for). 

He used to have a singular form of therapy, he used to dance and dance and dance until his feet burned and sweat poured down his face and soaked his clothes- sweat that hid the tears that would often spring to his eyes and stream down his face during these moments when he realized that he only truly felt free within the confines of his bedroom. He used to dance until the music caused his ears to ring well into the night, spinning and twisting to a rhythm that pounded in time with his heartbeat and his palms hitting the floor with a frustration that could only be matched by the quick tempo. 

The overwhelming throb in his heart sometimes only increased with the movements, the deep ache that could not be quelled by his quick turns and spins as he threw himself to the ground, gasping and panting as he lay on his back, the cold wood of his floor seeping through his sweaty tanktop as his lip quivered and he sobbed quietly, the music now a dull hum in the deafening silence of his room. 

When he had been poisoned, he had lost his ability to dance for weeks. He remembered the day vividly, waking up in the hospital, his head feeling as though it were full of stuffing and the world spinning until he was trying to swallow down the nausea that rose as his stomach clenched so painfully it made tears spring to his eyes as he whimpered for his mother just as he had when he was a child, begging for her to take the pain that was consuming his body away. 

It took him a week to be able to stand again, and another to stand without feeling that same nausea that would render him immobile for hours. He couldn't dance for a year, the spins suddenly becoming too much for his body to handle and the quick movements, once fluid, now being jittery and shaky. He no longer would feel the rush of adrenaline after a good routine, the satisfaction of perfect choreography as he became one with the music. He would stumble, and his head would spin until he had to rest against the floor to catch his breath that seemed to be running faster and faster with every passing second. 

Jamil lay in bed that night and stared, trying to will his shaking hands to still at his sides. He wanted to cry, to scream and to kick and to wail until he didn't have to be terrified day in and day out, until he could be freed from this agony that was a lifetime of servitude and danger. 

He had taken his time to begin caring for his hair more, to consume hours upon hours creating spells and figuring out how to flick his wrist properly to braid and twist his hair. 

He was normally so protective over it, smacking away anyone who would try to run their hands through the fine silk or who would come near him with scissors to trim the ends. His hair was his individuality, and the thought of someone else having control over it hurt his heart and made his stomach twist and burn as he recoiled from the thought alone. 

So Jamil didn't understand why he felt so...safe. Safe with his head in the prefect's lap, face buried in their thighs as his hand rested on their knee, rubbing it comfortingly with his thumb. Their soft humming brought him a comfort that he hadn't known since he was a child and filled him with warmth. The care they treated him with as their hands ran through his hair gingerly, treating each strand as though it were made of solid gold. Their nails were gentle against his scalp, gingerly twisting and braiding the thick black hair that cascaded down their thighs and splayed against the mattress like vines ready to flower against the soft silk of his sheets.

He felt protected with them, as though his worries were all melting away with the sun that sank below the horizon, casting the entire dorm in the shades of a warm fire that sent embers floating into the open sky- free to venture until they burnt out and became one with the stars. For the longest time, Jamil had longed to become one with those stars, to shine as brightly as they had, unbound by fates and surrounded by possibilities. 

For the first time in his life, Jamil had options. He no longer had to battle alone, no longer would be forced to swallow the poison that bound him to a lifetime of servitude. The shackles would remain until he and Kalim would come to an end, but their weight was lifted. The prefect took those iron bars and lifted them in their own hands, no matter how much he pleaded for them to allow him to carry this heavy burden on his own, that the weight he could carry was no issue to him despite the burn in his arms and neck as the years progressed. They lifted the chains, and he suddenly felt as though he could breathe again. 

As if on cue, his shoulders rose and fell in a sharp sigh as he felt tears well in his eyes, his hands pausing on his lover's knee as their ministrations on his hair stopped, making him frown. 

"What's wrong?" They asked quietly, voice barely a whisper above the winds of the desert and the soft chatter of the other Scarabia residents. 

"Nothing," Jamil said. "Everything." He finally admitted, feeling the weight lift off his heart ever so slightly. 

"Wanna talk about it?" 

"Not now," He would rather never talk about it, to protect them from the life that he had been forced to live and to keep them safe from the possibility of becoming a servant themselves- perhaps even the possibility of their own children becoming servants, then grandchildren, then great-grandchildren. "Spiraling."

He could feel their smile despite having not turned onto his back to face them as their hands continued to thread through his hair gently. The two have learned, through many small fights and trial-and-error, to speak to one another tersely. Jamil found that it was best that they know a little of what is happening in his mind rather than keeping it in the dark- even if his explanations were one or two words. 

"I'm sorry," They mumble, bending over to press a soft kiss to the shell of his ear. He hoped they didn't feel the shiver that ran up his spine nor the way that his heart trembled from the action. 

"Why are you sorry?" he choked out, breath caught in his throat. 

"I'm sorry you're in pain," he felt as though his heart was going to burst from the adoration he felt for the student, pure love spilling from the holes in the walls around his guarded heart and seeping into his veins. Finally, he rolls onto his back and gently raises his arm, raking his nails softly up their neck and winding around to the back of their head before pulling them into a soft kiss. It was far from their first, and Jamil could only hope that they never share a last, but it still made his stomach turn. 

"Please don't worry," He smiles gently, parting from the kiss and feeling a burst of pride from their dazed expression. Jamil lowers his hand from their scalp to their cheek, cupping it gently and running his thumb beneath their eye, brushing over their cheekbone and reveling in the way they lean into his touch and hold their hand over his own. I'm safe as long as you're here, he wants to say. Jamil wants nothing more than to hold them dear and to soak in all the affection they're willing to dish out to him. 

But he knows there's a time.

He feels that it's soon. Soon he could spill his heart out to them, soon he could cup their face and press their foreheads together and hold them so close to himself that it's nearly desperate and whisper sweet nothings against their lips and plead for them to stay greedily as he peppers their face in kisses and feels the way their chest presses against his with every breath. He wanted to hold them in those cold nights, the warmth of the both of them as they lay cuddled beneath the sheets peacefully as he tells them every single thought he's ever had about them, every single one of his wishes as though they could grant them as easily as any genie. 

He would trade in every last wish if it meant he had the courage to speak his mind at this moment, to watch their expression soften, or the way their eyes would widen when he would say what they wanted to hear. 

But there would be another time for that, he decides as he interlaces their fingers, still pressed against the prefect's warm cheek. 

"I love you."

[asheepinthenight]

Hi Dani! I love Talon's End so much! I love the writing and Hawk and Shea and the Siblings and Isla and Erich and not so much mom, but I still love her and it's amazing.

Question: How would you describe the usual human clothing of the region? I'm trying to draw my MC (helps with getting to know the character) and I'm not sure of what clothing she'd wear.

Thank you and take care! <3

That's a super good question! I got a little carried away, but hopefully this is at least kind of helpful!

TL;DR: Women mostly wear dresses; men mostly wear trousers. Regardless of gender, clothes tend to be light and loose in style without a lot of ornamentation. Currently though, elegant, ornamental hairstyles are in, and many people are growing their hair out to take advantage of that. Hair length isn't particularly culturally dictated or gendered. Clothing colors usually reflect the seasons' colors in nature, but only members of high society (like MC's family) are really expected to have whole ensembles of the "proper" colors. For those curious, robes aren't at all common due to their association with mages.

Details under the cut!

The area where MC and their family live is relatively diverse, so fashion there has been influenced by a variety of different cultures. Maressea is on the warmer side of temperate with a fair amount of precipitation, so during warm weather, clothes tend to be light and not have too many layers--but coats, jackets, and capes to ward off the rain are common. Even when it's warm, sleeves, trousers, and skirts are usually long, but they tend to be more loose and flowing. During the winter, heavier fabrics are a must, but the styles are relatively similar to warm-weather clothes. Colors are an important part of styling, though. The colors of an ensemble should generally match the colors seen in nature during a given season. This is obviously pretty expensive and, therefore, a thing people will be judged by if they're considered a member of Society. But in situations where no one could reasonably afford multiple dyed garments for every season, people still often use seasonal colors for ribbons, handkerchiefs, and other small items. Even among the nobility, garment patterns and shapes are often relatively simple since the mundane aspects of fabric arts were only revived in the last century. Those who had the knowledge to revive things like lace-making and detailed embroidery are highly sought after, and their services quite expensive.

Hats aren't a big thing--unless they're necessitated by weather--since elegant, complex hairstyles are having a moment (the vibe but not necessarily form of fancy wedding updos). Historically, there hasn't been a major tendency toward long or short hair, regardless of gender, but long hair is stylish due to greater options for the aforementioned elegant hairstyles. (Not quite Hawk-length, though!) Hair accessories like ribbons, combs, and gemstones are common based on what a person has available to them.

Women are usually expected to wear dresses, and men are expected to wear trousers. But some avant garde women (including Sabine) have started wearing trousers at informal events (and formal events, if they're feeling extremely spicy). Some men have begun wearing dresses as well, but it hasn't taken off as much just yet. Robes are sometimes worn, but it's very rare since they're associated with being the garb of mages--not the most popular thing these days. So Hawk's gift had the double sin of being a robe AND not being a seasonally appropriate color.

[phenomenal1500]

~Dreams Come True~

Masterlist

A/N: This was requested by an anon on Tumblr. I can't imagine how proud he would look at his wedding seeing her. 😊

Summary: Harald weds a non-viking woman and is obsessed about how she looks at their wedding.

Timeline: Unimportant.

Pairing: Harald Sigurdsson x Non-Viking!Fem!Reader Warning: None.

Harald was waiting patiently to see his soon to be wife arrive on the beach of Kattegat. He couldn't imagine how gorgeous she would look, but what he didn't know was that she was getting dressed honouring his culture, not hers. She wanted him to know she respected him and his ways and so she decided it was the right time to show him that.

The sun was shining through the thick clouds, the gleaming snow still covered the Norse landscapes, the water was calm and the wind had settled.

He had truly chosen a perfect day for her.

"Will he like it?" Y/N asked nervously to the maidens who helped braid her hair into the most beautiful hairstyle she had ever seen. They had separated her hair back into 7 braids. 6 small ones, 3 on each side of her head, and 1 big thick braid on the top of her head all the way to the back. All braids came together in one eventually and the rest of her long shining hair was loosely hanging over her shoulders.

"He will love it, my dear." One of the older women spoke up and kissed her cheek in a motherly way. "Let us bring you to your soon to be husband now. I'm sure the prince doesn't have much patience left. He was so eager to finally marry his beautiful woman."

Y/N nodded with a slight smile, getting up and following the maidens onto the narrow road that led to Kattegat's beach.

She couldn't wait to show him how she looked, showing respect to his culture and honoring it.

'He must be so proud', she thought happily as she watched the lovingly grin grow on Harald's face as he spotted her getting closer and closer to him.

"My wife~ look at you~." Harald smiled widely as he took her slender hands in his to pull her close, whispering to her not to ruin the ceremony.

"Not yet." Y/N spoke softly and smiled back, holding his hands with as much excitement as he did. "You like it, my prince?"

"It suits you so well, Ketta. I'm so joyful to see my love like this." He cupped her cheeks gently. "It makes me love you even more and I didn't know that was possible until now, my princess."

"Perhaps she should make it an usual habit then~?"

He nodded. "If you'd like advise~ your husband would certainly love that idea." He joked and watched her with love in his eyes, waiting patiently for the ceremony to be done so he could exchange rings and his arm bracelet with her, finally able to call her his wife.

It was a thing he always dreamed of, even when he first met her.

He loved Y/N with all his being and now seeing her with her beautiful braided hair and with her perfect light blue wedding gown with silver Viking embroidery on made his heart ache with love even more.

She was so gorgeous and the dress made her beauty stand out even more~

He was certain that this was the woman he wanted to marry. That her inner and her outer beauty suited his and he wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side.

She was the one~

[dragonsoftheeast]

Wir passen perfekt zusammen. Glaub nie etwas anderes.

we're a perfect match. never believe anything else.

For the twenty-second day of the fifth month, three ways Aemond and Helaena match.

Or, the grief of Helaena Targaryen, the Dreamer.

read on Ao3

Helaena loved to wear sapphires.

Not just because they complemented her coloring, though that was what her ladies' maids exclaimed, when they dangled from her ears and brought out the purple of her eyes, whatever that meant. Not just because the color reminded her of Dreamfyre, the sheen of her scales in the light of the sun, so high no one else could reach her.

But because it felt like the greatest of secrets, shared with Aemond. And they had so many.

To wear a chain of them around her throat, and feel his gaze fall to them, then dip lower, and know that it was not his eye that was looking at them, but sapphires meeting. To wear them on her fingers and see them against his skin, knowing they were placing a claim on each other. To wear them on her ears and hear the gems click together when he kissed her throat.

What a beauty he made her feel like.

She could have been a beauty, her ladies said, if she put in the effort. If she wore the rich gowns her sister adored and her mother modeled, sat still for the fittings so they would best flatter her figure, kept quiet for the creams and powders and kohl they smeared on her skin.

But no. She wore the gowns she loved, the simple cuts that just draped over her undergarments, the softer material, not stiff with embroidery. The barest bit of rouge that she could bear touching her skin. The same hairstyle every day, the braided crown twisted together in no time at all, the rest loose down her back. And her sapphires.

Still, Aemond was ravenous for her. Rucking up those simple skirts, loosing and tying those laces with practiced fingers. He always murmured about how grateful he was that she didn’t wear enough rouge to muss, no lip tint that he’d have to wipe away from his skin. He could fix her hair just as well as any of her ladies, and he’d kiss up the side of her neck as he did it.

“Āegenkor perzōñār pāletille jonevīlā,” she whispered to him once, nestled in his arms, and his eye gleamed with satisfaction, an ambition he didn’t have to hide from her. But her dreams were not done with him: “Ȳn laes aō bē suemilza, se laehoqitta morghūlilā.”

*You’ll wear a crown of iron and blood. *But the Eye will close on you, and you will die blinded.

He could not help it, the fear that marred his face. This, he would not hide it from her either. Oh, how she’d hated to see it. But there was blood ahead. In that, her dreams had never changed. He thirsted for it. But she needed him to see. She needed him to see whose blood was being spilt. How much.

“Skoriot konir ryptā?”

*Where did you hear that?

‘Kesir ēdrurȳ ūndan.”

*I saw it in a dream.

That was enough for him to know it true.

“Sepār kessa.” He said, his face smoothing into acceptance, which had been exactly what she had not wanted.

*Then so shall it be.

But they still had time, she reassured herself. She kissed him again, hoping that he understood, or at least that he would, and they had not thought about death for a very long while. He asked about her dreams again, and comfort her when they remained dark.

He loved her as she was. There was nothing she could do to make herself more desirable to him, she just was. What else had she needed?

Then her son died, and the answer to that question was everything.

After, her ladies' maids twisted her hair this way and that, piling them every which way. They crammed her in gowns of lace and silk that would have sent her screaming, before. And she was so tired, so tired, what use was there in batting them away? She would tear them apart by the seams if she had the strength.

But she did not. Even the barest thread could resist her. Yet still she clung to her sapphires.

Once, on the night before her wedding, Mother had told her this: We can bear anything we have to, so long as we know it ends.

She waited for that moment now. The ending. She had been waiting since that moment in the dark, and the red red red where her son's face used to be.

In the midst of the shock and the pain and the grief, that is what she had thought. There will be an ending. The pain will become a memory.

Except the pain had become a memory that had become a wound that had become pain again.

And she was tired, tired, tired.

Sleep was not a refuge, it never had been, and her dreams were bright with dragonfire.

And so she dressed in dark leathers, trimmed in Dreamfyre’s shed, and took to the sky. Her daughter tucked against her in the saddle, she carried them higher and higher, where no one could touch them. No one would ever hurt them again.

What time she needed to spend on the ground she spent in the Dragonpit, curled up against Dreamfyre, Jaehaera with Morghul. Shrykos attempted to join them, at first, baying her confusion, but Dreamfyre would not allow it, chasing her away with smoky growls. She could not stand the sight of her any more than Helaena could bear to look at Maelor.

Some grief was glue, some a wedge.

Night after night, she flew, until frost dusted her hair and Jaehaera, shivering, clung to Dreamfyre for warmth, until the air went thin.

But after a fortnight, the shadow of Vhagar met them, and Aemond in his own leathers- he never seemed to wear anything else- begged her to come home. Back to the ground, back to the Keep, where danger lurked around every corner, where the stain of her son’s blood could never be scrubbed away.

“Come down,” he coaxed, gliding over them, blocking out the moon. “We worry for you.”

Why shouldn’t they worry?

A flick of the reins, and she banked, spiraling away from him, away from his voice. Vhagar was a mighty steed, but she was too old and too large to fly for as long as Dreamfyre could. She would outlast them.

He would approach, and she would dart away, letting the wind steal his words. Her slippery-quick dragon only needed a touch from her rein, the tilt of her hips, to know where to go.

Still he chased them, shouting directions to Vhagar. He would want to end this quickly.

He dove deep, a maneuver she would never dare with Jaehaera in the saddle, at such angle that their eyes could meet as they passed. He had forgone his eyepatch, and she could never deny him when she looked into the sapphire.

“Please,” he called. “I will protect you.”

Jaehaera reached for him.

And so her soul crashed down to earth. Dreamfyre’s claws carved through the stone of the Pit, nearly collapsing under the strain. Vhagar could only touch down for a moment, to let her rider off, before taking off again to her own lair.

She climbed down, sliding off of Dreamfyre’s saddle with Jaehaera clinging to her neck so hard she could barely breathe.

Aemond never looked so ungainly in the dismount, stumbling off of Vhagar’s ropes towards them. Nothing was as important as getting to them, holding them as tight as he could.

“I will avenge him,” he said into her hair, into her collar, both of them stinking of dragon and supple leather. “I swear it. They will pay in blood. Do not fly away from me, you are my other half.”

“You will have your crown soon,” she replied, and lay her head on his chest, and tried to memorize that smell.

But the crown didn’t save them. It couldn’t save anyone.

When Caraxes and Seasmoke and Sheepstealer and Syrax had circled over King’s Landing, and Aegon and Jaehaera and Maelor- oh her poor baby boy- had been secreted away. Helaena, in a moment of wild clarity, had dressed in her leathers again, and had made for the Dragonpit. She could have flown away: now that Meleys was dead, Dreamfyre was the swiftest of the dragons.

And yet she had stayed. She had hoped.

“The queen is here to see you,” her guard said.

Her guard. What a prisoner she made. Locked in her own tower, golden chains around her wrists and throat, with her ladies to dress her in black silk and do her hair and make her a beauty like they had always wanted.

It took far too long for them to meet again, but blood calls to blood. And grief calls to grief.

They had not seen each other since Rhaenyra had taken the city, and Mother had promised Aemond’s return in fire and blood. Still he had not appeared. So it was up to her.

“Mandȳs,” she said, rising and meeting Rhaenyra’s eyes. They had come too far and bore too much to use titles.

*Older sister.

“Hāedus,” Rhaenyra replied in kind, her skirts swishing as she seated herself across from her. She took Helaena’s hands in her own. Her touch was like silk, a warmth and a jolt of awareness she wanted gone.

*Younger sister.

But she didn’t have the energy to pull her hands back or ask why she was here. It must have shown on her face, because Rhaenyra answered her.

“Udra zōbriar maghan. Tresy aōha Maelor morghe issa.”

*I bring grave news. Your son, Maelor, is dead.

It was as if she were floating. All the strings tying her to her body, snapped. She was frozen, and silent. Where her quiet reigned, a roar was heard over the city, a keening dragonsong of sorrow and pain cutting through the blood rushing through her ears, resonating in her soul. Dreamfyre.

“Gaomon ñuhon iksos daor, ao gīmigon jaelan.” Rhaenyra’s voice was meant to be soothing, she thought, but Helaena only heard the horror in the words. “Quptyr ondossi ziry ezīmptas. Zȳhon drōmon ūndis se kārille irughakson jeldis.”

*I want you to know that it was not my doing. *A mob tore him apart. They saw his egg and hoped for a rich reward.

She wanted to scream, to wail. Instead, she was back in that dark hall, all her children gathered around her, and perhaps her silence would inspire mercy. To say anything was to condemn them, but-

Oh! Her baby boy, her Maelor, who she had twice condemned to die!

And instead of the animal cry that wanted to leave her, the sweet oblivion of madness to take her, her breath left in the pitiful pant of prey.

“Ñuha tala glaesos botās,” she said at last, barely words, but they stopped Rhaenyra all the same.

*Spare my daughter.

“Ziry iā Maelor kaerīnagon koston daor. Hen īlvro ondoroti tolī tolmīha issa.” She tugged Helaena’s hands into her lap, crushing her fingers like a lifeline. “Ñuho suenjoti syt keskydoso qringōntan. Lo ȳghāpī pōnte rāeli, vamīhāpī pōnte rāeli.”

*I could no more spare her than Maelor. It is not within my power; she is beyond both our reach. *I made the same error with my youngest. To keep them safe is to keep them close.

“Lo kese lentot vīlībāzme keliemili, ȳghāpī pōnte rāelagon kosti.”

*We can keep them safe, if we end this war.

Rhaenyra laughed at that, all the bitterness of the last years ringing out in it.

“Aōhom lēkiot valonqrō epagon aō bēvulzā. Mazōregon avy nājumban. Kostilus ryptegon Āegon umbikilus daor, lo sīr zȳhor lentor keliton issa.”

*You’ll have to ask your brothers. I doubt they will feel the same. But perhaps Aegon will be more amenable now that his line has ended.

His line never even existed.

“Vasīr,” she mused. “Lo Aegon mazōres, Aemond Daerōn daenilzi, Kesrio syt pōnta dārlina se ao aōha muñā ozgūroti ñuhi issi.”

*Still, *Even if Aegon agreed, Aemond and Daeron will persist, for the sake of their own claims and for the very fact I keep you and your mother here.

“Pōnte ȳdraon botās,” she said, leaping onto her chance, “Pōnte hakagon kostan. Yne ryptīlzi, kesrio syt tale ñuhe jorrāelzi.”

*Let me speak to them. *I can convince them. They will hear me, for the love of my daughter.

Rhaenyra’s chuckle was mirthless, cold.

“Hen oktiot sōvīlū se qrimpālekia rhaenīlū botilun jāelā? Skoriot Ēdrurzi hembār ūndīlun? Sombāzmio  toliot, Vēsperzo geptot, Tessario Vagro lantro mentyrotī inkot?”

* You want me to allow you to fly out of the city and meet with your treacherous brothers? Where would I next see Dreamfyre? Over the Keep, Sunfyre at her side with Tessarion and Vhagar and two armies at her back?

“*Daor!” Helaena fell to her knees, grasping at her sister’s skirts. “Mērī rūniapos maghinna. Yno bē azantī gierūljās, hae ozgūrotȳ ñuhe muñe rāelās, aōhos. Kīvio ñuhe pryjaon daor.”

*No! * I will go as an envoy. Surround me with your men, hold my mother as ransom, do what you will. I will not break my vow.

“Iōrās,” Rhaenyra commanded, seizing her by the shoulders and pulling her back into her seat. “Vasīr dāro tala iksā.”

*Get up. *You are still the daughter of a king.

But Helaena did not let up, taking her hand in a rattle of golden chains, bowing over it.

“Kostilus, pōnte ȳdraon botās, hegnīr ānogrosa nehugon keliemiluty.”

*Please, let me speak to them, so that we may put an end to this bloodshed.

There was a long silence, and her heartbeat burned in her chest.

“Ñuha tresy mērī rūniapos mādas.” Rhaenyra said, and Helaena tasted bile. “Skorī morghūltas, sōvero lyko gō sōvīles. Ānogrosa nehugon kelīlza skorī aōhi lēkia valonqār ānogrosa mijīlzi.”

* My son was an envoy. *He was flying under a banner of peace when he died. The bloodshed will stop when your brothers have none left.

Helaena fell back against the chair.

“Skoro syt kesīr mastā se yno kesra ivestretā?” She said, and she had never felt smaller. “Skoro syt ñuho muño epō daor?”

*Then why would you come here and tell me such things? *Why not ask my mother to do it?

“Hegnīr morgho zȳho bē nākōrila iksan gīmīlū,” Rhaenyra said, dropping Helaena’s hands, eyes wide. “Āhinnon mīvojughilū jaelon daor.”

*So you would know that I am blameless in his death. *I want no misplaced vengeance from you.

A laugh bubbled up in her, then, bringing tears to her eyes.

“Āhinnon?” she said. “Skoro syt āhinnon ajorrāelilū?”

*Vengeance? *What use have I for vengeance?

Her sister looked at her as if she was an alien thing, then, a sort of visceral confusion. Her eyes darted from side to side, examining, probing.

“Qūvir avy hakossiarzot sīdas vestretis,” she said finally.

*They said you had gone mad with grief.

“Avy sīdō daor?”

*Haven’t you?

Helaena saw it then, the rage her sister was known for, flashing in eyes as purple as her own. Rhaenyra rose to her feet, skirts a storm. The conversation was over, the opportunity lost. Still, Helaena made a final plea.

“Kostilus, aōhoso valonqroma lyks mazverdās. Īlva uglaesare riñī īlot kaerīnagon.”

*Please, make peace with our brother. Let us save the children we have left.

Rhaenyra’s back was to her, and her strides did not slow.  She called again, strung tight with desperation.

“Lo gero bē humbili, īlvor lentor kelīlza. Sīkudi Dāria pryjēliks. Kesir ēdrurȳ ūndan.”

*If we continue on this path, our line will end. The Seven Kingdoms will shatter. I have dreamed this.

She had never told anyone about this, except for Aemond. It was her last card to play. Their father had trusted dreams.

Rhaenyra stopped, her shoulders tensing. She raised her head, and for a moment, she hoped.

When the Black Queen turned her face, there was war in her eyes.

“Ēdruryssy īlōn dārī sīdosy daor. Zaldrīzesse sīdis.”

*Dreams didn’t make us kings. Dragons did.

She turned and left, and so she did not see, not like Helaena did. She did not see Caraxes and Vhagar clutching each other in a deadly dance. She did not see the crumbling of the Dragonpit or Sunfyre limping across the seas. She did not see the dying of the dragons.

She screamed until her throat was ragged, until her chest burned.

Helaena was the blood of the dragon too, was she not? She was a dragonrider. She was a dreamer. Magic flowed in her veins. She would be able to stop the war. She had the power. She had seen so much. What was the point of prophecy if she couldn’t change anything?

She had tried. Hadn’t she told them, again and again?

“There is a beast beneath the boards,” she’d hissed, and her mother had brushed her aside, even after staring down Meleys.

“Let us bring peace,” she'd cried out, hoping to appeal to her sister, to a fellow mother who had shared so much grief.

“Stay with me!” She’d begged Aemond, "Are you not my other half?"

But he had walked away, to vengeance and blood and fire. He had heeded her prophecies, the day of his glory and the day of his death, but not the only thing she ever wanted from him.

No one heard her. No one ever listened.

Now she dressed in black, gold chains around her throat.

We match, she thought, and in her mind's eye she saw his black armor, gold running over the edges so beautifully, the delicate chains binding him to Vhagar-

We match, she thought, as she felt the hands at her back, as she fell, as he fell, as they fell-

We match, she thought, when the spike pierced her throat, and the sword his.