#EMERALD’S LUNCHEON

[ask-de-writer]

About EMERALD’S LUNCHEON

MLP Fan Fiction and SEE STORY

World of Sea

@nevermord​ READ, LIKED, REBLOGGED

and COMMENTED on

EMERALD’S LUNCHEON

MLP Fan Fiction and

SEE STORY, World of Sea

About EMERALD’S LUNCHEON he noted :

I have made the mistake of piling on blankets while trying to stave off the chill from a nasty fever before. All I succeeded in doing was driving my fever even higher, almost to the point of delirium, and being quite violently and repeatedly sick in a bucket by the bed..

Yeah, Zecora giving lovely advice here. :)

Yes, Zecora's advice is time tested and solid. Doctor Red Mane here is the same one who runs afoul of Coalsmoke, later on.

About SEE STORY he noted :

I love the fireside-tale version of how the first humans came to sea. Vague yet detailed enough for readers to get a good idea of what really happened.

That is so. A Thousand Years can cause lots to be forgotten or altered by story tellers who, often with the best intentions, try to deal with things quite outside of their experience and understanding.

[helloitstsyu]

it's the tie | Tom Cruise [18+]

my masterlist

Summary : post oscar luncheon sex.

Warnings: daddy!kink, spanking, inappropriate languages, bondage, unstated age gap, prolly some typo or mistakes.

Pairing : Tom x Fem!reader

WC : 1600+

"That's a nice tie," you chuckle.

You're watching him from the doorframe for the last 3 minutes. Tom just comes back from the Oscar Luncheon. Despite he has discarded the navy suit, matching colored vest, and taken off his shoes. Tom still looks ravishing as he was earlier on the carpet.

Turning his head towards you, Tom stay composed, as if he knew you were there the whole time. He smirks. "Is that why you're staring?" He asks as he continues to untie the appealing lilac patterned tie.

There's something about his looks tonight. You've seen him donning the color navy all the time. Blue and navy are basically made for Tom. But tonight, something is different, something appeals differently to you. And your eyes keep dropping, lazer-lock, on that lilac patterned tie.

You crook your eyebrows and come to him. Replacing his hands with your smaller ones, you help him to untie the tie.

"How was the event?" You ask.

Without waiting for his answer, you lean towards his neck. The intoxicating scent of him always managed to arouse you. Placing a deep kiss on his neck, Tom relaxes and exhales deeply.

"Could be better if you were there with me," he tells.

You scoff softly. Continue to kiss his neck. Altering from a sweet soft peck, sucking gently, and nibbling his skin, you manage to have Tom's breath stalling.

"How was your meeting, honey?" He asks.

You take a glance at his emeralds. His eyes light up with excitement, "It was bad actually," you answer.

"Bad?" He repeats, "How so?" He asks with narrow eyes.

"Can't keep my mind on it. All i thought about was this..." You grin. "You in this look..., this tie." You chuckle, looking back at his eyes through your lashes, "I just wanted you all night, Tommy," you tilt your head to the side, seductively looking deeply into him.

His eyes flickers, "Yeah?" He softly graze his fingers on your shoulder. That little contact got goosebumps all over your spine already.

Sighing softly, "Yeah,"

Pulling him closer by the tie, you clash your lips on his for a hungry kiss. Stepping up from your lead, Tom dominates the kiss. Slipping his tongue inside of your mouth.

He's quick to undress you, leaving you only covered with your panties. Tom hoists you and throws you onto the bed. You squeal at the sudden movement and chuckle when you bounce on the mattress.

With a radiant look on his face, Tom takes off his tie in an instant. He climbs on top of you, "Is this what you want, darling?" He wraps the tie on his hand. That lilac patterned tie that leaves an impression on you, got you dreaming the filthiest thing while sitting on a meeting.

How can you refuse.

His eyes darken with lust, and it's apparent that he's ready to have his way for you tonight. You're grinning wide and nodding.

"Turn around, on your knees, sweetheart," Tom orders.

Being the good girl that you are, you gladly do as you're told.

Tom takes both of your hands, put them together on your back, and he ties your wrists together. Trying to test his knot, you're surprised to find what a firm knot that is.

Tom chuckles softly, "Don't try to break 'em, they'll bite," he whispers to your ear, then nibs softly on your earlobe.

"I can't touch you tonight?" You ask,

"You asked for this, darling. Now, take it and be a good girl," Tom softly pops on your ass. Your body jolts excitedly at the surprise move. Tom leans down, kissing all over your back as his fingers pressing on your still clothed cunt.

"You're drenched, sweetheart, i haven't even touched you properly yet,"

You giggle, turning your head around to see him, "It's the tie, baby,"

"Mhm, of course, it is." Tom chuckles. He finds it amusing that even an article of clothing, as simple as a tie, could get you so arouse like this. To your defense, you're dating a literal sex god. Whatever he put on, even the silliest, even a sack, could look so appealing, attractive, and sexy on him.

Tom takes off your panties. He lifts your hips, and you're back on your knees. Tom finally presses his tongue on your folds. Trailing your slit with his tongue, it grazes over your clit giving you a quick rush of pleasure before it comes back to your entrace. He teases your entrace then he enters your sweet hole with his tongue.

"Oh, fuck! Tommy..." you whimper.

"Excuse me?" Tom asks with an offended tone.

You chuckle, "Daddy," you correct yourself.

"Mhm, that's what i thought i heard," Tom grins.

Tom continues devouring you with his mouth. Fucking your cunt with his tongue.

His hand slips underneath you, reaching for your breast. Tweaking your nipple in between his fingers, he makes you moan even harder.

"Ohmygod," you moan. Face burying to the white fluffy pillow.

"Taste so fucking good," Tom mutters as he wiggles your ass to his face. Tom sucks and licks your clit. Your breath hitching in your throat, mind scattering with the pleasure he's giving you.

"Ohh fuuuckkk, daddy!" You cry out a moaning mess.

Tom slaps your ass hard. That was the first time he had ever spanked you. "Daddy!" You gasp at the stinging pleasure. The sting impact brings a new sensation of jolting pleasure. You chuckle, adoring the new sensation. "Fuck– More please," you whimper.

"More? You like that, darling?" Tom crooks his head, looking down at you as you grin happily.

"Yes! More, daddy, harder please!" You look back at him. Tom grins widely at your pleads.

Approving your pleads. He gives you another one to your other cheek. He spanks you harder. You shut your eyes and grunts.

Tom chuckles softly, watching you loving to be spanked, "Look at you, little slut,"

"More daddy,"

And another strike to your other cheek. This one stings even more because the previous one still remains.

"Ah!" You squeal then giggle.

Tom chuckles and pulls you into his lap. His hard member pressing your back side. Wanting and needing more of him, you grind down on the hard center. He kisses your lips hungrily in a burning, lustful passion. His hands grasped your breast aggressively.

"My girl," he mutters in between the hot kisses. His hands wrapping around you possesively. He's so possessive of you and you're thankful that he shows it verbally in bed. Hearing them always brings butterflies inside of you.

"My Tom," you retort.

He smiles, Tom rest his forehead on yours as his fingers softly rub your face. You chuckle softly to him, adoring how he can be both aggressive and soft. He perfectly mastered both, knowing the right time to switch between the two. He really is a true man of your dream.

With your hand on your back, you're able to slip your hand under his dress pants. Impatiently searching for his cock, Tom grins, "Darling..."

"Need you, daddy," you whispers.

Chuckling darkly, Tom pushes you back to the bed. Laying there flat on your tummy, you wait as Tom stands up and undress himself. He climbs back on the bed, on top of you. Aligning himself at your entrance, he gives your slit a few stroking teases with his head.

"Don't tease me, daddy,"

Tom laughs, "So impatient, darling,... it's my pussy, my way, yeah?"

"Your pussy?" You raise your eyebrows.

Tom chuckles, gives you no warning and push his cock all the way in inside you at once.

"OH!" You yelp.

"Mmm, that's right, my pussy," he mutters, "Say it!" Tom growls in your ear. He starts thrusting in and out of your weeping cunt.

"Y-your pussy," you whimper. "Ahh... your pussy, daddy!"

"Good girl," he whispers. Tom starts drilling into you at a mercilessly hard pace. In no time, you're already moaning his name repeatedly right now.

"FuUcK! TOM!" you exclaims.

"That's it, louder!" Tom smiles, "You're squeezing that walls around me, baby... so fucking good," he groans.

Tom holds the knot on your wrist, his other hand gripping your hips. The sound of skin slapping fills the room. The air of the bedroom feels thick and smells like sex. You're so close to spilling all over his cock.

"T-tom," you moan breathlessly.

Tom unties your hands. Quickly, he flips you around. Tom slams back his cock inside of you. Taking your legs over his shoulder, you're nearly folded in half. Tom looks feral. Sheen of sweat on his forehead and chest, skin blushing in flushed red, eyebrows furrows in pleasure, lips set apart and slipping uneven ragging breath. You can look at this face for the rest of your life.

Both of you are drowning in a pool of pleasure. Still holding that lilac tie. You wrap it around his neck, use them to pull him even closer to you.

"Cum for me," he tells you. "Cum for me, darling,"

A few more hard thrusts, you're practically screaming his name. Nails raking on his shoulders that for sure tomorrow will leave marks on him. Your walls throbbed and clenching around him, pushing him even closer to his edge.

"Oh fuck, Y/N!" Tom groans.

His seeds coat your walls. Filling you to the brim. Both of you collapsed together. Tom rests on top of you for a while, both of you panting for air.

The intense pleasure flooding inside of you. Endorphins swimming throughout your body. Heart swims in a warm feeling of love as Tom gives soft pecks all over your neck and jawline. Slowly, he pulls out of you. He looks back deeply into your eyes. Emerlad eyes lighten with post-sex happiness.

"Thank you," you mutter breathlessly.

Tom smiles, he kisses your forehead. "So... you like the tie, then?" He grins at you.

You laugh, "I love it,"

•━❪❃❫━•

Tag list : @malavera @call-sign-shark @moondustfairies @katherineswritingsblog @angelaemme @tomsf18 @whosjuliiee @lilythomasxx

[tadpolesonalgae]

Tamlin x reader: The Aftermath of Spring - Drabble

A/N: I believe there is a positive correlation between the summer-y air that I’ve been granted access to and the sudden increase in fluffy fics—couldn’t tell you why

What have I done?

You groan as the memories come flooding back to you—how he’d taken you in that cave. Even with the pleasant soreness between your thighs; the slight ache in your head and jaw, you can’t fully summon the feeling of regret that should be more prevalent in your current state.

The High Lord of Spring had been courting you for a while now, inviting out to luncheons and requesting your presence at the dining table. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t enjoyed it immensely: spending time with him.

Upon receiving your first invitation from him, you had become rather flustered, tripping over your skirts and bumping into your bedposts as you hurried to beautify yourself, scrambling for the plentiful supply of cosmetics that lined the interior of your various draws. You’d settled on a slight tint to your cheeks, along with a shade that didn’t look too unnatural on your lips, finishing with a slightly darker colour than your skin tone to your eyelids.

You’d stared at yourself for long enough to be labelled as vain by any male who had no concept of hygiene, and managed to make it to his requested spot on time without appearing out of breath. An excellent start. From there on, he’d extended his arm for you to latch onto, as he took you on a personal tour of his gardens—the ones kept private to most of his Court.

They were dazzling as you had expected, unable to keep the wide smile from your lips, despite your attempts to remain as unruffled and dignified as possible. He hadn’t seemed to mind, though, not once frowning at your open display of adoration for his fine garden, nor making a thinly veiled remark that you’re well accustomed to in the higher ends of the aristocracy.

The date had been wonderful, and he’d led you aside for some tea and scones—which were fluffy without being dry—with petit glass trinkets of cream and jam o the side. You’d wished to indulge in more, but had feared appearing gluttonous before him, so had relished and savoured the last morsel. To add to his charm, he’d made certain you had safe passage home, giving you nothing more than a slight incline of his head as you had curtsied. Not even a wisp of desire to be found in his emerald green eyes—as if he’d purely requested your company out of an interest in you; not your body.

He’d left you feeling rather giddy, if rather flustered, and that night, you’d dreamt not of the usual odd assortment of things that once day has risen one is no longer able to make sense of, but rather strolling again through that lovely garden, discussing botany and the charm of wildflowers where they are unwanted.

It was the third luncheon with him when you’d witnessed his grin—that he had, admittedly, tried to conceal by turning to look at a statue of two frolicking lambs. It had been so boyish, so un-High-Lord-like you’d had to fan your face to keep from blushing. He was surprisingly debonair with his kind smile and gentle but relevant anecdotes.

You’d talked long into the afternoon, empty cups of tea settled on their bespoke dishes—a strangely personal touch you found had you warming to him even more. He’d discussed his fondness for the fiddle, and you had laughed genuinely as he told you tales of his youth when he’d been about town and swindled a drink or two out of some drunken merrymaker’s pocket in payment for his tuneful services. Heavier subjects had begun to crop up, though you did not find yourself dreading them. Rather, Tamlin had spoken of his time spent as a foot-solder, competing with his comrades in competitions for the lewdest limerick.

“You have enjoy poetry?” You had asked.

Once upon a time, members of the higher classes had been expected to be well versed in classical literature, familiarising themselves with the works of the greats from an early age to appear sophisticated and well-spoken. Now, lessons were devoted more entirely to memorising the arms of houses, lineages from prestigious bloodlines and the politics between families. If it were none of the aforementioned, it would be sessions on etiquette. Needless to say, you’d hadn’t anticipated his genuine interest in the subject.

It had been a month of courting when you received your first sonnet from him, and t had left you more flustered that his initial request for your company. And so the back and forth of epistles had begun.

There was, you have to admit to yourself, a certain memory that seemed to make a habit of slinking into your mind when you were at the brink of sleep. It had been a moon and a half since he had begun courting you, and once again he’d been escorting you through his gardens, taking route past the roses you so adored—red, white, and lovely yellow.

“Do you have an aptitude for thinking on your feet?” You had asked, peering up at him from a rose. He’s raised a brow, but nodded his confirmation. “Your sonnets are so marvellously put together! I can’t help but dread the time it must take you to construct each lovely line,” you muse, standing straighter as you lock eyes properly—a rather reckless move on your part, but a necessary risk you had justified. You didn’t want him to think you too eager, lest he lose his interest.

“And where is this going?” He asked, eyes sparkling as he took you in amongst the flora. You offered him a sly smile that had his lips lifting in helpless response.

“He asks with anticipation,

The route of the conversation.

She was quite curious,

He thought her injurious;

She sought out his improvisation.”

Tamlin blinked. Regarded you. Then grinned. It was a wide smile, full of mischief and humour as he shook his head. “It doesn’t count if you have to think about it, Lord,” you smiled playfully and challenge lit his eyes as he regarded you again. Paid more attention—you’d caught his interest.

“Her skill of beatification,” He said slowly, as if debating the words.

"Is cause for great celebration.

She let him see her,

His heed grew deeper;

Her charm was no perturbation.”

You rose a brow, inclining your head to him. You were poised to open your mouth, but he stepped forward, and your tongue fell dull at his proximity.

“There once was a maiden so sweet,” he said softly, watching you endearingly.

“She swept the High Lord off his feet.

He was so charming,

But she was disarming,

That she became all he would seek.”

There was no way for you to conceal your flush at his words—the flattery. You swallowed, about to return his rhyme when you were regrettably interrupted. Apparently, something urgent had come up, and your High Lord was needed to resolve it. He’d offered what seemed to be a genuine apology, taking you gently by the arm as he had someone call for a carriage.

The door was open for you, but he had taken you carefully by the hand, eyes latching onto your own as he raised your knuckles to his lips—soft, and surprisingly warm. It had been enough of an encouragement you’d taken your second risk that day. You’d taken a brazen step forward, feeling the onlookers shift with a mix of amazement and indignation, but Tamlin had stiffened at your intimate approach. You offered him one of your innocent smiles, then murmured your reply back to him.

“There once was a girl so adored,

She swept her High Lord off his paws.

He was so beastly,

And she was quite feast-ly,

That he really did wish she had whored.”

You drew back, curtsying low as your eyes had flicked up to meet his own. His eyes were wide, lips parted in pleasant surprise. As you had turned to step up into the carriage, you’d heard the faint huff of breath from him—and you knew he was chuckling.

————

The Great Rite had come and passed now.

Would he continue his pursuit, despite now knowing what awaits him?

A foolish mistake on your part. You should have resisted him. Should have insisted to keep some mystery to yourself. Males only took an interest in females if there was some kind of allure to them. You needed that element of secrecy, or he would think of you as every other woman—nothing to distinguish you from the crowd.

But as you drag yourself out of bed, feet settling into comfy slippers, fretting over your past decisions, you spot a sage green envelope sat atop a silver tray. The seal is silver, baring the Spring Court insignia. You know instinctively who it’s from.

With trembling fingers, you peel back the wax, uncovering the letter: it’s another sonnet.

You scan the contents, heart thumping in your chest as you read his words:

‘Am I to say you are a lovely glade,

Dappled in the shade of emerald leaves?

Thou art more than milk and honey hath made,

The gilt threads of our souls the mother weaved.

If the golden eye of heaven did close,

Enough light would be shimmered from your form,

To sustain the seeds and others like those,

Past the eves of twilight; on until dawn.

Celestial bodies, and those divine,

Would leap to waltz a rotation with you.

My Court, my territory, those are thine,

Genuflect as I would before you, too.

Between you and I, let me make this right,

Soon full feather and softest delight.’

A heavy breath blows from your lips as you press the letter to your chest. It seems he hasn’t lost an ounce of his affections. You can hardly restrain yourself as you hum sweet tunes from your memory, skipping and dancing across your room until your handmaid peers in to enquire about the noise.

All it takes is for her to note your smile, and the opened letter with its recognisable seal, and her eyes spark with understanding. You feel like you could grow wings and fly, or burst out into song and waltz the days away.

Excitement and something else—something softer; more tender—warm your chest as you reread the letter again and again, until you have it memorised.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

[unitybalfour]

WHEN: 23 June 1923 WHERE: The Balfour living quarters WITH: @edwinbalfour

Ordinarily, Unity enjoyed being fussed over. But today was not a day for mistakes. Her ladies maid was a leaker - her eyes always dribbling, no resilience whatsoever - and although she did Unity's hair precisely as she wanted it, Unity hated how meek the girl was. Averting her eyes and stammering and goodness knows what else. When she'd dropped a hairpin for the second time, Unity snapped. She'd banished the girl before another disgusting teardrop could soak into the shoulder of her sky blue morning dress.

Mama would notice. And if Mama noticed, Unity would not hear the end of it.

Feeling tetchy, Unity readjusted a gilded hair clip until it was perfect. As she dabbed her lipstick with a piece of tissue paper, she found her attention drawn beyond her vanity mirror to the emerald lawn studded with cream-coloured marquees. Servants scurried hither and thither, organising the luncheon that was to be held for Unity's mother, Lady Spencer. She checked her delicate Cartier watch. No doubt mother dearest would be late out of spite. Pathetic, really, to play those sort of games at her age.

The door to their apartment opened, and Unity caught Edwin's gaze in the reflection.

"That girl ought to be sacked," Unity declared, tapping her powder brush and dusting some over her hawkish nose. Truly, she was too ugly to live. She flicked her eyes back to her husband.

"Did you send the car to the station? I don't care if that wretched chauffeur sits there for an hour. Mama will have kittens if she's kept waiting. You know what she's like."

[fanfiction-butterfree]

THE NANNY NAMED LUIGI

CHAPTER II: Airplanes and Early mornings

Koopa Man: This is your pilot speaking. Thank you for flying Air Goomba. We should be arriving at Shadow City International Airport in just under 5 hours. The skies are relatively clear so we expect only a slight amount of turbulence. 

Luigi sighed as he stared out of the airplane window. In just 7 hours he'd be at Bowser's Castle to act as the nanny for the Koopalings and their brother Bowser Junior. He still didn't know how his brother managed to convince him to take the job. Then again he hadn't managed to get a job since he'd been fired by his fiance, so maybe he was just open to any suggestion.  

Goomba Steward: The emergency exits are located there and there. 

The goomba gestured towards the orange colored emergency exits.

The green dressed Mario brother looked around the cabin. 

There were Toads on their way to vacation. 

Business Koopas on their way home. 

Humans who would transfer to a plane headed to the Luncheon Kingdom for a wedding. 

And a few others whose goals varied from migration to a short vacation. 

As the plane's engines revved up, and the fasten seatbelt sign went on, the emerald clad human closed his eyes, hoping to get some sleep before he arrived at his destination. 

The means people used to travel in this world were as diverse as the beings that inhabited it. 

There were cars, bicycles, motorcycles, and hot air balloons. Trams, buses, trains, and blimps. There were planes, ships, koopa copters, and spaceships. There were things I had yet to mention and that most people of our world had yet to imagine. 

But of all the methods used to traverse distances, the most famous was the warp pipe. A technological marvel that could get you from A to B in a fraction of the time it took all but the fastest commercial planes. 

It was, sadly, also the least comfortable, most expensive to build, and hardest to maintain form of transportation. Which is why it was generally only built when money was no option. Such as in certain government buildings so doctors, politicians, military, aid workers, and refugees could easily get to an allied nation or a nearby province. Or temporarily in the case sporting events, or kidnappings. 

Teenage Male Koopa: GIMME THAT! 

Slightly Younger Male Koopa: NO IT'S MINE! 

Teenage Male Koopa: YOU DON'T EVEN USE IT! 

Much Younger Male Koopa: I'M TELLING DAD!

Bowser woke up like he did every morning to the sound of his children arguing over something. 

Teenage Male Koopa & Slightly Younger Male Koopa: DON'T YOU DARE!! 

Much Younger Male Koopa: DAD! 

In this case the argument was between three of his least favorite kids. 

Even Younger Male Koopa: IGGY AND LEMMY ARE FIGHTING AGAIN! 

Iggy & Lemmy: SHUT UP LARRY!

Larry started crying

Bowser: KNOCK IT OFF OR I'M SENDING YOU ALL TO BOARDING SCHOOL ON THE MOON! 

There was a moment of silence before the three brothers started laughing. 

Bowser sighed. 

He knew he wouldn't send them to boarding school, and they knew he wouldn't send them to boarding school, but at least they stopped fighting and that was all he really wanted. 

Bowser got up and looked in the mirror. After a month without Kamek's help, he looked and felt tired. He'd grown a beard, the same shade of red as his mane. Normally he'd shave it, but he felt too tired to even try to. 

He put on a white dress shirt with french cuffs and a spread collar, silver cufflinks shaped like his logo, a navy blazer with gold buttons with his logo on them , Khaki colored dress pants, white socks, brown leather dress shoes, a red silk tie in a half windsor knot, a gold pocket watch, and a forest green shell with white spikes.

Normally he'd just wear a shell and some spiked wristbands, but he had a conference in two days, so he had to get used to dressing up. 

He didn't mind the clothes, in fact they felt quite good, but in his mind he wasn't the type of guy who would wear them. Or wear a beard, or do a lot of things for that matter. 

He looked at his watch. 

Bowser: Three hours till Mario's brother gets here. I hope he lasts longer than the last one.

The king muttered to himself. 

Somewhere in the skies near the coast of the Darklands an Air Goomba plane was preparing to make its final approach to Shadow City International Airport. 

Shyguy Stewardess: Sir, wake up, we're almost at our final destination. 

Luigi: Wuh huh? 

Luigi slowly got up. 

He'd been able to sleep through most of the flight, only waking once to go to the toilet, once to stretch, and once to eat his breakfast. His breakfast consisted of an omelet with fried mushrooms and fire flower, some somewhat stale bread, an assortment of overripe fruit native to the Mushroom kingdom, and some coffee, which he'd been told was a type popular in the Darklands, and was unfortunately the best part of the meal. While it had been a bit too dark for his taste, he still enjoyed it. 

The landing had been uneventful, some passengers had clapped, but that was nothing out of the ordinary.

The lesser known Mario brother thought of his situation as he made his way through the airport. He'd met Bowser only a few times in his life, and couldn't remember the last time they'd exchanged more than a few words. Even after Bowser's wife died a few years ago, he'd only sent him a short letter offering his condolences, and never gotten a reply. And now he was on his way to babysit the man's children. 

He giggled nervously. 

The only time he'd babysat anything was his neighbor's Yoshi, and even that almost went wrong. 

He made his way to Darklands Customs and Border Protection.

Koopa Woman: Passport? 

Luigi showed his passport

Koopa Woman: Business or Pleasure?

Luigi: Business

Koopa Woman: Staying long? 

Luigi: I hope not! 

Koopa Woman: Haven't heard that in a while. 

Luigi chuckled nervously

Koopa Woman: Luigi … Mario? Huh, same last name as Mario Mario. 

Luigi: He's my brother

He smiled proudly. 

The koopa burst into laughter

Koopa Woman: Yeah right! And I'm the queen of the Darklands! 

She regained her composure

Koopa Woman: Regardless everything checks out. Welcome to the Darklands mister Mario. 

The man in green finished going through security, got his luggage, and walked outside, somewhat disheartened by what happened at customs. 

Shyguy Driver: Linguine Mario? Lugini Mario? I'm here for a Loogy Mario! 

Luigi: It's Luigi. 

Shyguy Driver: Can I see your passport ? 

The shyguy looked at it briefly 

Shyguy Driver: Looks good. Ok, get in the car. 

Luigi nodded, and got in the car. 

Shyguy Driver: Lets hope you don't end like the last ones. 

He muttered to himself. 

Time is a funny thing. Seconds can feel like minutes, minutes can feel like hours, hours can feel like days, and days can feel like years. Or in the case of one unfortunate King Bowser, ruler of the Darklands. Hours can feel like Centuries. 

Bowser looked at his watch. 

Bowser: 3 minutes till he's here. 

His children were all waiting in front of the door. 

He'd told them that he'd send them to the moon if they what they did to the last people that babysat them.

Not that it mattered, he was too tired to do anything, let alone punish them if they did what he feared they were going to do to Mario's brother . 

The doorbell rang.

Teenage Female Koopa: Ready! 

A security guard opened the door remotely

Oldest Teenage Male Koopa: Aim! 

The door opened

Second Oldest Teenage Male Koopa: FIRE! 

Bowser: NO! 

Bowser reacted too late. In unison the Koopalings blew scarlet balls of fire at their unfortunate target. 

Iggy: That was number 39! 

The crimson firestorm which wrapped around the figure in the doorway, gave way to emerald and viridian flames, behind which were intense eyes which seemed to burn with lime green fire. 

The mix of red and green fire dissipated as the man dressed in green dusted himself off. 

As he looked around the room, his composure shifted from intense anger to an equally intense nervousness

Luigi: Hello… I'm…

Bowser: The Nanny. 

[vulpes-fennec]

Stuffed like a Turkey (Elucien) 🎁

Summary: When Lucien’s Solstice pranking goes too far, Elain demands his repentance. 

A series of fluffy/smutty ACOTAR winter one-shots! 12 stories for the 12 days leading up to Solstice (December 21).

Warnings: Smut, mild brat, vaginal sex

Read: Masterlist | AO3

It was Elain’s first Solstice outside of the Night Court, since she and Lucien had officially moved to the Day Court this past spring. Helion, the former Lady of Autumn (now Lady of Day), Eris, and his pack of hounds were coming to their little house for Solstice dinner. It was going to be packed, and people were going to be hungry. 

As Prince of Day, Lucien had court obligations that kept him busy from sunup to sundown. So Elain had cheerfully volunteered to cook Solstice dinner this year. 

It would’ve been fine and well, but Feyre’s birthday luncheon had run late, and Elain was frazzled by the time she winnowed back into the Day Court. Dividing time between the courts during the holiday was hard. Still, there was plenty of time before the guests would arrive to get things done. 

The turkey went into the oven first. It was a magnificent bird, seasoned thoroughly and brined for the last 24 hours. Plenty of carrots, apples, and beets to rest on, but no onions or garlic—those ingredients were toxic for Eris’s dogs. Elain busied herself around the kitchen as the hours ticked by, chopping vegetables and sautéing with dexterity. 

Elain took some time away to lug her present for Lucien downstairs. It was a huge box, wrapped prettily in dusty pink paper. But it was a little prank: there were subsequent boxes of smaller sizes nestled within each other, all of them individually wrapped. The final box, which was about the size of her palm, held a pair of glittering emerald earrings.

There was no time to worry about what her mate’s Solstice prank would be. When Elain rushed back to the dining room to set the table, the jingling of the front door indicated Lucien had returned. 

“Lucien!” Elain cried, running over to give him a crushing hug. She hadn’t seen him all day. “How was the Solstice ceremony?”

“Hello, sweet pea,” he murmured, pressing her close and inhaling her scent. The male was draped in a white linen toga, the regalia of the Day Court, despite the frigid temperatures outside. “How was Feyre’s birthday lunch? Did she like our present?” 

“She did.” Elain pulled back to admire Lucien’s handsome face. A gold armband circled his bicep, and a small golden crown rested on his brow. His brown skin glowed with good health, smile was equally bright. Lucien was every bit the heir to the Day Court. Her mouth watered at how delicious he looked.

“How’s dinner prep going? Do you need any help?”

“Hmm. I need to set up the dining room table, so could you please take the turkey out of the oven? It should be ready.” 

“Gladly, my lady.” Lucien kissed her softly before striding away. 

Elain had just finished rearranging the silverware when Lucien called out to her from the kitchen. “Sweet pea? I think you need to see this.” 

“What’s wrong?” Elain hurried to the kitchen to find Lucien, still in his Day Court toga, peering into the oven with a perturbed expression. She nearly screamed when she saw the turkey, or at least, what remained of it. 

She hadn’t checked on the turkey in the last few hours, fearful of losing precious oven heat. A tiny, golden-brown bird lay on top of the roasted vegetables. Elain could have sworn her arms had strained to heft the turkey into the oven, but this was a bird that couldn’t even be shared between two people, let alone a house full of Solstice guests.

“What the hell?” she shrieked, pushing Lucien out of the way. “What happened?!? How did the turkey shrink?” she wailed, taking the tray out of the oven with thick mitts. She prodded the tiny bird with a fork. It was big breasted, with juicy drumsticks and perfectly spiced…but it was far too small.

“I told you there was something wrong with our oven! The turkey was our main dish of the night! What are Eris’s dogs going to eat now?!? Oh, Lucien, they’re going to go hungry!” 

There was no response. Elain whirled around to find Lucien shaking with silent laughter. He brought out a small takeout box from the cupboard with the name Camilla’s Cornish Hen Stand stamped across the front. The male gently floated the bird on the tray back into the box. And with a snap of his fingers, the real turkey, properly sized and still steaming, reappeared on the tray from the pocket of space. Lucien’s Solstice prank, Elain realized. 

“You fiend!” Elain pouted, her cheeks burned red with embarrassment. 

Lucien was still chortling. “I just can’t believe you thought a cornish hen was our Solstice turkey!” 

“Hmph!” Elain turned away crestfallen. “How could you do this to me, Lucien? I’m so stressed out already trying to make everything perfect for your family during our first Day Court Solstice…” her voice shook with tears.

Lucien’s heart cracked. “I’m sorry, my love.” Lucien wrapped his hands around her waist in a back hug. “I only meant for it to be a harmless joke. Tell me how I can make it up to you. I’ll do anything…wait a damn minute. Elain!” He spun his mate around to find her laughing. 

“Did I fool you, too?” she giggled. 

Lucien sighed with relief. “Gods, Elain. Still have a few tricks up your sleeve, I see.” 

“How did you manage to sneak it in? I literally charged at you the moment you came through the door!” she exclaimed.

Lucian grinned. “Oh, I made sure to take that into account. I climbed in through the window—and before you look so alarmed, I made sure to move your plants out of the way—switched out the birds, climbed back out. And then I came in through the door.” 

“Clever fox.” Elain leaned in, running her fingers along Lucien’s bare pectoral. She trailed the golden armband on his bicep, appreciating how it gleamed against his burnished skin. “Anyways…I thought I heard you were offering to make it up to me,” she proposed with a sly grin. 

“That was when I thought you were upset!” Lucien protested, though his skin was starting to run hot under her nimble fingers wiggling their way over his chest. Elain wearing a frilly pink apron was always a treat, and his russet eye appraised her lithe form with a twinkle.

“But I haven’t seen you all day!” Elain whined, turning her big brown doe eyes up at him. Her perfect pink lips pouted petulantly. Lucien sucked in a breath, grappling with his self-control. “We should do something together before our guests come.” 

“Yes, we should, but you’re being such a brat right now with your whining.” Lucien bent down to kiss her, but Elain turned her head. 

“I’m your brat. And besides, you know you love it.” She gave him another pout. 

“Alright, then. What does the little brat want me to do?” 

Elain’s pout melted into a grin. She tip-toed to whisper into Lucien’s ear, “I want you to stuff me like a turkey.”

Lucien nearly choked. His sweet gardening mate always had such a dirty mouth behind closed doors. “Our guests will be here soon, sweet pea. Are you alright with something quick?” 

“Yes,” Elain said, impatiently hauling Lucien’s lips towards hers. Lucien hungrily delved his tongue into her mouth, the faint remnants of their Solstice dinner from taste-testing lingering on Elain’s tongue. “Ever since you walked through that door—” she broke off with a gasp when Lucien lifted her effortlessly onto the counter, large hands pushing up her dress. 

“Mmm I missed you,” Lucien breathed against her neck as Elain’s bare legs spread wide open for him.  

“Close the kitchen blinds.” Elain was barely coherent as her hands fumbled at the cinched knot holding Lucien’s garment in place. The white fabric fell away, revealing his strained erection, the head gleaming with precum. Elain needed to travel back in time and thank whoever created the toga, for it displayed all her favorite parts of Lucien: his broad chest, his muscled calves and thighs, his tanned brown arms…oh yes, and also, the easy access to his cock. 

Normally, Lucien would have taken his time removing Elain’s stockings by slowly rolling them down her leg and leaving a trail of kisses, but today, he was in a rush. He disposed of her stockings and damp underwear in a pile before kneeling on his knees to kiss her inner thighs. Elain whined as Lucien’s hot breath ghosted over her most sensitive areas. “You look delicious, my love,” he whispered reverently. 

“I don’t want you to taste me, Lucien! I want you to stuff me up,” Elain demanded. 

“Bratty as always,” Lucien remarked dryly. But Elain’s hips bucking in his face and her sweet arousal were unbearably tantalizing. Lucien allowed himself to lick a stripe up her pussy, tasting her glistening skin, before getting back on his feet. “But as my lady commands.”

When they’d moved in, Elain and Lucien had requested a new countertop. One that was specifically the perfect height for him to drive himself into her without any further warning. Elain let out a squeak as her mate stuffed her completely, his heavy cock stretching her walls perfectly. She threw her head back, moaning “yes, Lucien” as Lucien began snapping his hips against hers.

Elain pushed the last bit of Lucien’s toga off his shoulder, leaving him bare-chested and beautiful under the faelight. She wrapped her legs around his hips, locking him in so that he could never leave her again. The sight of her mate, with his golden sun crown on his brilliant red hair and his dark gaze as he fucked her had Elain clenching, then cumming in quick succession.

“My bratty chef looks so good with my cock stuffed inside of her.” Elain could only whimper as Lucien found a deeper angle. She was a pretty sight to behold, her warm brown eyes half-lidded with bliss and her cheeks flushed with euphoria. Simple brown dress bunched up around her hips, the top laces loosened revealing soft curves, and that damn pink apron was the cherry on top. 

The heir of Day leaned down, his red hair tickling the nape of her neck. “My beautiful mate,” he murmured into her ear. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Elain. The Solstice ceremonies were so droll without you there.” 

“Were any females throwing themselves on you?” Elain demanded, feeling possessive at the thought of other females eyeing her mate. If she didn’t have Feyre’s birthday luncheon to attend, she would have gone to the Day Court’s Solstice ceremonies. 

“Are you jealous?” Lucien muttered darkly. His hands gripped her waist, his russet eye sizzled with desire as she dug her nails into his back in response. Elain latched onto Lucien’s neck with her lips, sucking hard. The wet suction of her lips and the vibration of her little moans on his skin with each thrust had Lucien groaning as he spent himself inside her. 

Lucien lay her gently on the counter as he pulled out of her, wiping the apex of her thighs with a clean towel. He walked around their kitchen, his muscled, tall body still naked. Elain blissfully lay back on her elbows, admiring her mate. She blinked. 

“Oops,” she gasped. “I may have left something on your neck.” 

Lucien’s gold and russet eyes grew wide as he checked his reflection in a small mirror on the wall. A dark, mottled hickey had bloomed on the column of his neck. “Elain! My parents will see this!” he hissed in shock. 

Elain blushed bashfully, a completely different female from the one who had boldly ran her hands over him minutes ago. “I’m sorry!” she cried, wringing her hands fretfully. “I got carried away!” 

Lucien sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “You have nothing to be jealous of, Elain. No Day Court female would ever dare provoke your wrath.” A small, animalistic part of him preened at the thought of his mate possessively marking him up as hers…perhaps he could request that from her for their next Court appearance…

There was a loud knock on the front door, and excited yips coming from outside. “It’s Eris!” Elain’s brown eyes widened. “Why is he here early? We are not ready yet!”

“Of course Eris is early,” Lucien said dryly as he handed Elain her stockings from the floor. 

“Open up! It’s cold out here!” The High Lord of Autumn barked. “Are you…are you two fucking?” 

“No!” Lucien shouted, tugging on his toga hastily. The air was thick with the smell of their arousal, and he had no idea how to clear the scent. Elain grabbed a bottle of perfume on the counter and began spritzing it madly. She coughed as her nostrils were filled with cloying floral essence. 

“Don’t lie to me, little brother! My dogs say they can smell—oh wait…maybe it’s just the turkey.” 

[simshousewindsor]

On International Women’s Day, The Queen Consort hosted women from across society at Buckingsim Palace to celebrate the achievements and impact of women in a wide range of fields.

For a 12th year in a row, the luncheon was held in the State Dining Room at Buckingsim Palace. Portraits of a young Amelia, Princess Royal and Queen consort Lara-Leigh were also displayed on the walls.

The room full of 90 Women were serenaded by Windenburg Opera legend, Leontyn Graves, whose success broke countless barriers for Sims Women of Color in opera.

After lunch, The Queen consort held more in-depth discussions about issues and causes the women are involved in and ways in-which the Palace can continue being of support.

Her Majesty wore a white Beau-tie Coatdress by @warwickroyals​ which was topped off by Queen Lara-Leigh’s Flower Emerald brooch by @thesimpireblr​.

The brooch features a large faceted emerald surrounded by diamonds in a modern floral design and a diamond chain with a pear-shaped diamond drop. The palace confirmed the brooch was loaned to Her Majesty from The Queen Mother, who is still keeper of the Jewels of the Crown. 

Many have speculated that this brooch was part of the massive Hammond Bequest, a jewelry collection bequeathed to Queen Lara-Leigh by Mrs. Hammond in 1932.

Previous | Beginning | Next

[springdandelixn]

Missed Chances and Broken Promises - Part II

Summary: Choices have been made and the consequences must be endured.

Warnings: Angst—that's my warning

Characters: Loki x F!Reader

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! Don't forget to stay warm and hydrated.

p.s. This is a continuation of my Loki University AU fics Secret Serenade and Study Buddy.

Your feedbacks and reblogs would be very much appreciated. Enjoy! ❤️

“Reservation under Richards.” Loki says upon stepping up to the podium, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“Right this way, sir.” The hostess says and he gives a nod of acknowledgment before following her through the dining area, his eyes wandering and observing the decor and patrons of the high-class establishment.

He’s only ever heard of The Palm Lounge from Wanda, as she wouldn’t stop expressing to Vision how much she wanted to go, back in their university days. 

But as he eyes the lighting fixtures along with the leather back seats, the decor fitting of the modern and sleek interior, he doesn’t question why the establishment is part of the platinum members club listings. The diners sport designer clothing with gold and silver jewelry adorning their hands and neck; the scenery taking him back to his younger days when his mother would drag him and Thor along to one of the luncheons she organized with her friends back in Asgard.

He always found it preposterous, to dress in such fancy outfits just to eat breakfast. But he’s learned quickly that people who were born with a silver spoon in their mouth dine differently than those who don’t.

She would definitely fit in, Loki thinks to himself as he steps out into the alfresco area.

He looks ahead when he hears his name being called from the open space and spots Clarice waving at him. She stands from her seat and Loki turns to face the hostess, thanking her and allowing her to go back to her post before moving past the tables to meet Clarice halfway. 

As he keeps his eyes on her, he can’t help but admire how stunning she truly looks. Her brown hair almost looks golden against the late morning sun, and with eyes shining beautifully, a twinkle present in them when they meet his emerald orbs. It immediately reminded him of why he entertained his mother’s idea of setting the both of them up, despite how perplexed he was of it in the beginning.

Loki smiles when she reaches him, his arm circling her lithe frame while his hand reaches up to cup her face. He greets her with a chaste kiss, one she willingly reciprocates. Slowly, he deepens the connection and feels Clarice smile against his lips, her hands, that found purchase of his shoulders, slowly sliding down to the lapels of his suit jacket and pressing them to his chest. 

“I see someone is happy to see me.” She giggles when she breaks the kiss.

“I’m always happy to see you, darling.” He says with a smile, the hand on her cheek moving to run his fingers through her hair.

“But we saw each other last night, and we see each other everyday.”

“But we didn’t see each other this morning.” He rebuts playfully.

“Touche.” Clarice grins before looking back at her table when her name flows through the air, her hand grabbing his and taking him back to their spot. “Come, the girls have been dying to meet you.”

“Oh—right.” Loki drones. 

The mirth from earlier slowly dampens upon recollection of why he agreed to meet for brunch. 

“I know you don’t have any meetings for the rest of the day so you can’t say no this time.” She teased him over the phone and she was right. The excuses he’s been feeding her to postpone such a meeting have already been exhausted and he had no choice but to say ‘yes’.

It’s not that he didn’t want to meet the people in her life, but the thought of having to start over and meeting new people who hope to form a certain type of friendship with him puts a sour taste in his mouth. He doesn’t need more friends, he already has them. Well, he had friends—never again hearing from any of them, except for his brother and Vision, since the day the both of you parted ways.

“Hon, this here is Danielle,” She gestures to a blonde girl who gives him a small and shy wave, her nose scrunching when she smiles at him and holds out her hand, to which Loki takes and shakes. 

The one beside her, a woman with red hair and a prominent scowl on her face, doesn’t seem all too enthused of his arrival. She glances at him once, her brows furrowed then looks back at the screen of her phone, tapping aimlessly and ignoring him completely. “And that’s Selina.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” Loki says, putting in the effort to be friendly towards the strangers. 

“And this, ladies, is Loki.” Clarice adds.

“Finally! We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Danielle chirps with an excited clap. “Clarice has told us so much and it’s finally nice to put a face on the name.”

“Only good things, I hope.” He chuckles before taking a seat, Clarice taking the one beside him before calling for a server and requesting a menu.

“Why? Are there bad things we should know about?” Selina asks in a snarky tone, Danielle looking at her in shock before releasing an awkward laugh, giving Selina’s shoulder a light pat.

“Oh, please excuse her. She is just in a mood lately.” She tells Loki, addressing the redhead next. “C’mon, Selly. Give Loki a chance,” She coos, hugging her friend’s arm and nuzzling her cheek against her shoulder. “He seems like a pretty nice guy, ain’t that right, Ricey?”

Selina scoffs and rolls her eyes, pulling her arm free from Danielle’s hold. “Nice or not, he’s still a man. And men shouldn’t be trusted.” She states without missing a beat and turns back to scrolling through her phone.

“But you don’t have to be mean.” Danielle pouts. “I’m sure he’s not like Jacob. He won’t dump Clarice just like—”

“What did you say, bitch?!” Selina shouts and stands from her seat, her towering form looming over the blonde.

The sudden outburst takes Loki by surprise, his eyes growing wide as he faces his girlfriend, a deep frown evident on her face as they watch the exchange unfold in front of them. 

“I didn’t—I didn’t mean—” Danielle quivers, her eyes watering as if she’s about to cry when Clarice stands from her chair, moving to stand between the two girls. 

“Girls, please.” She admonishes. “Let’s not fight and we have a guest.”

“Then tell her to shut her fucking mouth!” Selina snarls and grabs her clutch from the table. “I’m going for a smoke.”

“But you can smoke h—” The blonde gets cut off when Selina glares at her before storming off. 

Clarice sighs and goes to sit back down, a frown painted on her lips. Loki then reaches out and holds her hand in both of his before pressing a light kiss on the back of her palm.

“I’m so sorry about that,” She apologizes, her shoulder curling over as she speaks. “Selina has been going through a rough patch lately and I guess she hasn’t moved on yet from what happened. I don’t blame her for being angry, if anything, she has every right to be, but her anger was just misplaced here.”

“No, it was all my fault!” Danielle wails, burying her face in her hands as she begins to sob. “I was stupid and I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“Oh, sweetie.” The frown on Clarice’s face deepens and she pulls away from Loki’s hold to scoot closer to Danielle, wrapping her arms around her friend as she tries to console her. “Don’t say that. I know you meant well.”

“I just—I didn’t want her to be mean to your boyfriend but I got carried away.” 

“It’s quite alright, Danielle. I mean, this is the first time she is meeting me and I understand that she would be wary of me.” Loki offers a smile when Danielle peeks at him from Clarice’s shoulder. “She’s just looking out for her friend. As a matter of fact, she reminds me so much of my friend back in uni.” He volunteers the information as his mind drifts to when Natasha used to always interrogate him when he started dating you, asking so many questions and taking every opportunity to question his intentions. 

The smile on his face vanishes as his thoughts were suddenly filled with you, how you would fight off Natasha to try and defend him, claiming that he was a great guy and much better than his brother. Oh, how she must have scoffed when she found out how things ended between you and him, the image completely sinking his mood. 

“The menu you requested, ma’am.” A server suddenly appears at his side, taking Loki by surprise. 

“Oh, thank you.” Clarice smiles before gesturing to him. “Why don’t you order first while I settle her down.” She offers to which Loki agrees, taking the booklet and flipping through the pages. 

The voices of both girls fade in the background as Loki scans the food and drink options. But all at once, he feels his heartbeat quicken, his body going rigid as his eyes land on a breakfast item in the kids’ section. Something he never thought he would ever see again. 

Loki stirs from his sleep when he feels a soft kiss being pressed on his cheek, his eyes fluttering open and a smile grazing his lips when the first thing he sees is you smiling down at him. 

“Good Morning, Babe,” You greet him, sounding cheerful early in the morning. 

“Morning,” He grumbles back before laying on his back and rubbing his eyes awake, turning his head to face you. “What time is it?” 

You glance at the clock hanging by your door and turn back to him. “Half past eight.” You answer. 

“Do you usually wake up this early when you’re home?”

“Hell no.” You giggle before leaning closer, Loki leaning against your touch when you tuck his raven locks behind his ear and caress his cheek with the pad of your thumb. “But I made breakfast and I want you to be the first one to try it before the others wake up and finish everything.” 

“It must be that good to be a hit in your family.” He comments, reaching over to take your hand from his face and pressing a gentle and loving kiss on the inside of your wrist.

“Oh, you bet.” You say with pride. “My bacon pancakes are a thanksgiving favorite, the best in town as a matter of fact. You can even ask the neighbor five houses down.”

He looks at you quizzically, the name of the food alien to him. “Bacon what?”

“Have you chosen, hon?” 

Loki blinks when he’s pulled out of the memory, looking up from the menu to face Clarice before looking up at the server.

“Uhh—I’ll have the bacon pancakes, please, and a glass of orange juice.” He says before handing the menu back and giving his suit jacket a light tug as he tries to get comfortable in his seat. 

“Are you sure you want that?” Clarice asks, his fingers lightly tapping against the surface of the table. “That’s for children. You didn’t find anything you liked?”

“I had a big breakfast at the meeting today and it looked different so I wanted to try it.” He lies easily, giving Clarice a smile before slowly joining her and her friend in their conversation for him not to linger on his guilt. 

I no longer keep a tag list but if you want to be kept updated on my fics, follow my side blog @springdandelixn-archives and turn on notifications.

[eggman91]

After failing his luncheon with superintendent chambers Seymour, is on adventure, to find the master emerald then use its power to get his job back now we join on his journey in the new famous game in the sonic series Seymour the not hedgehog

[with-blood-and-fire]

Fic: Even Monsters Need a Gentle Touch Chapter 4

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

Title: Even Monsters Need a Gentle Touch

Chapter: 4

Summary:

Aemond is used to people steering away from him, avoiding eye contact and whispering about him behind his back. He pretends not to notice and not to care. But in truth, his heart aches at the thought that no one can love him with the scar on his face.

Luckily, someone comes along who will fix everything. Someone who will love him despite his scar. At least so Aemond thinks. Things go downhill and after a traumatic event, Alicent sends Aemond to negotiate with Rhaenyra at Dragonstone.

Unfortunately, Aemond is taken prisoner almost immediately by the Princess and her husband and is forced to reside in the castle with them. Thought it is a tough start to his new life, eventually Aemond finds that love and care is not so hard to come across after all.

Pairing: Endgame Aemond/Jacaerys, but starts out Aemond/OMC

Rating: Will eventually be NC-17, but starts out relatively tame

Warning: A little bit of emotional/physical abuse

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43665726/chapters/109800333

The following morning after his short escape upon Vhagar, Aemond is all but ripped out of his slumber by the sound of his chamber door slamming open, the wood crashing loudly upon the stone wall behind it. Groaning in annoyance, he pulls the warm covers over his head. It was much too early for anyone to be bothering him when he should still be resting.

It must be Aegon. The fool did not get to finish insulting me at luncheon. Perhaps he is back to finish the job.

“If you have come here to make rude comments to me again, Aegon, I will cut out your tongue.” He threatens without turning to look at the intruder.

“You should not speak to your brother that way!” A high-pitched, feminine voice rings out.

Ah. Mother. Aemond turns over and pulls the covers down just enough so he can look at Alicent. The woman is standing there with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

“Mother.” He greets politely.

“What were you thinking?!” She snaps, causing one of Aemond’s eyebrows to raise up in question.

“What do you mean?” He pushes himself into a sitting position with a groan. He had been out on Vhagar for several hours. He had pushed her hard, and in turn his body now protested with each movement.

“You know exactly what I mean, Aemond. Do you happen to have a death wish?”

“Mother, I still do not understand. If you could please enlighten me on why you seem to think I have a death wish?” Aemond rubs a hand over his eye, trying to rid himself of the sleep still clouding his eye and mind.

“You went out on that beast of a dragon!” Alicent cries out as she grips the fabric of her emerald green dress tightly.

“I did. Vhagar is my dragon and I needed respite from….” He pauses. “Everything.”

“Aemond, my son. The dangers greatly outweigh any reason you might have had to leave the keep yesterday..” The woman frets, picking at her nail beds, mouth turned down in a saddened frown.

“Dangers? Mother, I have been flying Vhagar for ten years now. How is it dangerous only now?”

“No! It is not that. I have learned to live through the fear every time one of my children gets on one of those horrid beasts. It is your step-sister I am talking about.”

Ah, of course she was. The Hightowers were convinced that Rhaenyra was planning an attack on them. That she, her brood and their dragons would be flying to King’s Landing to burn the lot of them at any moment. Ravens had flown to and from King’s Landing and Dragonstone endlessly for months, ever since the Hightowers had placed Aegon on the throne.

“Rhaenyra and her family are at Dragonstone.”

“But they could fly out with their dragons any day now. They could have found you alone, hurt you! They could attack and kill you at any moment. And all you care about is a silly dragon ride!”

“Mother, peace. The princess has only made threats through pen and ink. If she plans on starting this war, then we will know when she does.”

“Aemond, please. I know that if she had the chance, she would rip you and your siblings from my clutches. She would make me watch as she destroyed you. As she burns you.” Alicent gracefully takes a seat at the edge of his bed and takes one of his larger hands in hers. Aemond can see the unshed tears in her eyes.

“I don’t thinks she is like that, mother. She would not kill family.” He tries to comfort the woman, although he is not so convinced himself.

“She would have Aegon taken from the throne!”

“Aegon never wanted the throne.” Aemond sighs wearily. This was a conversation that had been repeated over and over throughout his life and he was truly tiring of the debate.

“It is his birthright! And he sits on the throne now as is his duty.”

“Technically it is Rhaenyra’s birthright.” He mutters under his breath.

Suddenly, there is a sharp pain in his cheek, right under where his scar ended. He gasps at the painful feeling, the skin of his empty eye twitching. He does not realize immediately what has happened. It is only when he looks back to Alicent does he understand that she has hit him, her hand still wavering in the air and anger in her eyes.

“Mother?” He whispers.

The woman, though sometimes stern and angered, had never once hit him. She had slapped Aegon many times, always when he would come back from the streets of silk reeking of alcohol and whores. But never had she laid a hand on her second son, the perfect obedient child.

“Do not speak such treason to me! Aegon is King. At least your older brother is doing his duty to his family! While you pretend you are not a part of it and hide away from all duties.” She scolds him.

“You want me to do my duty?” He whispers, eye downcast.

“Aye. You must support your family.”

“And what family is that?” He mutters. “The one who cares only for power and wealth? The one who would put having their blood on the throne over loving their children?” His voice rises in intensity as he continues on. “We are no family, mother. We are just pieces on grandfather’s chess board. Just pawns in his and your game. Why must I do my duty to this so called ‘family’ when they have not done their duty to me?!” But the end of his speech he is shouting and Alicent visibly deflates next to him.

“I just want what is best for you Aemond.”

“Do not feed me those lies. Neither you or grandfather actually care. You never have.” He spits and pulls his hand away from her.

“Of course we do!”

“Then tell me. What is it that you think will be best for me?”

“Family, happiness, peace. You out of everyone in this castle deserves that.” Alicent gently rests a palm on Aemond’s cheek. But when he flinches away, she removes it and sighs.

“How do you plan on finding these things for me? All proposals for betrothal you have sent out have been rejected. Not that it should surprise you.” He says bitterly.

“Someone will accept eventually. The ladies of the realm should be happy to marry such an impressive and important man.”

“You know why they will not.”

Who would want the ugly, cold hearted cunt of a prince with nothing but his name?

Alicent takes his hand in hers again, this time holding tight enough for his hand to bruise. “Perhaps Lord Hornwood will accept. He is hoping for a good match for his daughter.”

“If he accepts, he is a fool.” He spits.

“Aemond, I know this is not what you want, but you must do your duty to your family. Strengthen our ties, marry someone of good breeding. And maybe you will come to find love and peace along the way. As I did.”

“You are no more at peace than a bird imprisoned in a gilded cage. I would rather throw myself off the walls of the keep than have such a fate forced upon me. I do not wish to marry and be stuck with a woman I have never met. I could not love her.”

“Aemond!” Alicent cries, her nails starting to dig into his flesh. But he does not respond. He only turns his head from her and stares at the stone floor. The Queen mother stands then, releasing him and turning away. She too was done with this conversation.

“Ser Ellion will accompany you everywhere now. Whether you like it or not. You will not be allowed at the dragon pit anytime in the foreseeable future. Not until this danger passes.”

With that, she retreats from the room, slippered feet stomping down the hallway. Aemond finally looks up when he is certain he is alone. With leaden limbs, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and rests his forehead in his hands. He hisses as the palm of his hand makes contact with his skin. Alicent’s nails had dug deep enough to break skin and draw blood. It is only then that he allows tears to fall from his one good eye.

She is different now. Aemond muses. She used to be kinder, even if only a little. Mother never would have dreamed of commanding us so before. She would not force us to live lives we would not be happy with. He sighs. Her mind has been poisoned by grandfather and the rest of those council snakes.

His head is still laid in his hands when another voice rings out in the silence of his chamber.

“My prince?”

“Go away.” He orders. But Ser Ellion chooses to not listen to him, as usual.

“My prince. I could not help but overhear….are you alright?” The knight asks kindly, voice more quiet than usual, and comforting in tone.

“You were spying on me?” Aemond growls, wiping the tears that had been crawling down his cheek away.

“No, my prince.”

Though Aemond has not yet lifted his head, he can hear the knight approaching and kneeling before him, the armor and sword at his side clanking as he does so.

“Then why were you listening to our conversation? I could have your head for that.” Though that normally would have come out as a ferocious threat, it was half-hearted at best this time.

“I did not mean to, Prince Aemond. But the Queen mother ordered me to guard the door….which she then left open. It was no difficulty hearing everything that was happening.”

Aemond sighs and lifts his head from his hands to stare at the knight. Ser Ellion was on one knee, head bowed in respect and hand over his heart.

“Then have you come to scold me for my hazardous actions too?” Aemond snipes.

“Never!”

“Then leave me. If mother insists on keeping me prisoner, then so be it. I will not leave my chamber today.”

Ser Ellion stands then, head raising to look at him as he speaks.

“If that is your wish, my prince. Then I will leave you al….” He stops eyes wide and staring at Aemond’s hand. “You are injured!” The knight rushes forward with a look of horror.

“It is of no consequence.” Aemond moves to hide the injured hand behind him.

“You are bleeding, Prince Aemond! You must have this seen to.” A gloved hand reaches down to take his wrist in a gentle grip. And Aemond, too stunned at the action, just stares wide eyed at him. “I will call a maester!”

“If you call a maester, I will cut you through with your own sword.” Aemond threatens. “Tis a simple cut, nothing more.” He tugs at his wrist to free it, but the knight is strong and keeps a firm, but gentle hold upon him.

“What happened, my prince? Who is it that hurt you? Tell me but the name and I will make sure they face the blade of justice.”

“It was no one, Ser Ellion. Let me go.”

Ser Ellion looks into his eye, concern written all over those kind eyes and calming smile. Aemond’s heart stutters when the thumb of the hand holding his wrist begins to caress softly over his wrist.

“If you insist. But please, you must get the wound taken care of.” Ser Ellion cups the back of Aemond’s hand in his other, turning the palm upwards so that he can more easily see the damage.

“I already told you. I do not wish for a maester to see me.”

“I will not call one. But may I help you my prince? If it pleases you of course.”

“You wish to tend to my wound?” Aemond’s eye widens in surprise, and he stares at Ellion, looking for any hint of deception.

“Aye, it would be my honor. I have promised to protect you and keep you from harm. But I have failed in that. To make up for this, please let me cleanse and wrap the wound for you. And if you wish for me to leave then, I will.”

All Aemond finds in the knights eyes are worry, concern and kindness. And though the knight was infuriating and annoying at best, he was also honest and kind. And the soft touches he was bestowing upon Aemond made his resolve crack.

“Fine. Yes. You may.”

Ser Ellion guides him over to the carved chair at his dressing table and gently pushes him into it with a hand on his shoulder. It is only then that Aemond realizes he is still bare from the waist up. The touch of Ellion’s hand upon his bare skin makes him shiver and belatedly he curls up, wrapping his armors around himself to cover his scarred and bruised flesh. His days training had not left him unblemished like his brother and sister.

“You need not hide from me my prince. I am not here to judge you.” Ellion speaks softly as he takes a clean cloth from a pocket in his armor and dips it in the water bowl placed on the table.

“May I take your hand?”

Aemond unfolds himself, hand held out again for the other man. Ser Ellion takes it in his gentle fingers and begins to wash off any blood that had begun to dry upon his skin. Aemond observes the man as he works. The golden and curled ringlets of his hair fall in front of his handsome face, and a kind smile rests upon his lips as he focuses on the work.

Just days ago, Aemond would have gutted the man for touching him, but now the knight kneels before him with his hand in his. And Aemond can’t even think about wanting to complain about it. This young knight had gone out of his way to apologize for any real or imagined hurt he had bestowed upon his prince. And he was kind. And gentle. Something that was sorely missing from the Red Keep in recent years. And he had also left Aemond the book.

“The book of Valyrian poems. You were the one who left that for me.”

“Aye. I am sorry for entering your chambers without your permission. That was rude of me.”

“No. That is not…. Why did you do it?”

“That morning in the library, you seemed invested in the pages of the book. It looked like you were enjoying it. I thought it might serve as a peace offering.”

“A peace offering?”

“I know you do not want me here, my prince. And I would never wish to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But I believe th two of us have gotten off on the wrong foot from the start. I just wished to tell you that I would like to perhaps start over. And if that is not your wish, that is alright. But I would like for us to get to know each other better. If I am to keep guard over you.”

“I….”

“If you wish for us to ignore each other and not speak then that is alright too.”

“And…and if I wish for us to start over as well?” Aemond whispers, cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“Then I am glad, my prince.”

It is surprising Aemond thinks. I have done nothing but insult and this man. I have called him terrible things, done my best to push him away and keep him from my sight. And through all the terrible things I’ve done, he still kneels before me with grace and honor and offers me safety and protection. With that, Aemond makes up his mind.

“I…would also like to apologize.”

“You? But you have done nothing wrong.”

“I have. I am not a kind person, Ser Ellion.” Aemond bows his head in shame. “I am cold, angry and fiercely independent. But that does not give me the right to speak to you as I have. You have been nothing but kind and I have done everything in my power to tear you down.”

“You are a prince. That is your right.”

“But it should not be. Regardless of station, I have acted terribly and I am ashamed. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

“You do not have to ask, Prince Aemond. You were forgiven the moment I set eyes upon you. How could I not, with one as beautiful as you standing there.”

“I…..” Aemond’s cheeks burn even more brightly now with a blush.

“There. All better.” Ser Ellion pats the now wrapped hand and sets it down upon Aemond’s knee. “Your hand will be good as new in a couple days.”

“Thank you, Ser Ellion. For helping me.” Aemond turns to the mirror and sighs at his reflection that stares back. His one good eye was red and swollen, and the skin of his scar and empty eye socket was dry and irritated. His hair had seen better days, tangled and sticking this way and that. He reaches for the comb on the table , but a warm hand on his arm stops him.

“May I?”

“You wish to comb my hair?”

“Unless you would rather me leave now that your hand is taken care of.” Ser Ellion steps back with a bow.

“No!” Aemond protests. “I mean, you may.”

Ellion takes the comb from Aemond and combs his hair in silence. He brushes it straight till it hangs in perfect, sleek strands down his back.

“Did you know my younger brother is a squire here at the keep?” The knight asks as he sets the comb down and smiles at Aemond through the mirror.

Aemond shakes his head.

“My uncle Tyland Lannister has taken him on as a squire. Caeran, my brother, is only 8 years of age. But already wants to follow in my footsteps. He wants to be a great warrior.” Ser Ellion seems to smile fondly at the thought of his brother.

“He enjoys the sword?”

“Aye, he says he wants to be like me when he is a man grown..”

“And is he?”

“Hmmm. I think he is more like you.”

“In what way.” Aemond raises an eyebrow curiously.

“He wishes to be a great warrior. And he puts off a fierce and strong front. But his heart lies within the pages of dusty, old tomes in the library. I think he would make a better scholar.”

“I see.”

Ser Ellion caresses Aemond’s hair, causing the young man to shiver.

“You are cold, my prince. Here, come sit in front of the fire.” Ellion takes hold of his uninjured hand and guides him to the hearth where he is now pushed into one of the plush chairs.

“I will leave you now, my prince. And I will make sure that breakfast is brought up to you.”

“No!”

“What is it?” The knight asks with concern.

“Will you stay?”

“Of course.” Ser Ellion smiles warmly at him and joins him by sitting in the seat next his.

Aemond watches the knight for a moment, emotions swirling around inside him like a sea storm. This knight, in a matter of days, had managed to break down all the carefully crafted walls around his heart and soul. And looking upon it now, Aemond was glad. He was glad for the kindness, compassion, and gentle touches.

“Ser Ellion. Will you tell me about Casterly Rock?”

[mightyisobel]

Wearing the floppy ears -- A 1910 antecedent to the Meereenese Knot (repost from 2018 r/asoiaf)

Daenerys Targaryen in Meereen is not the first ruler of a fantasy realm to chafe under the burden of ruling rabbits while wearing unsuitable headgear.

You may know that that the 1939 film The Wizard of Oz was an adaptation of Book 1 of a 14-book series by author, playwright, and filmmaker L. Frank Baum. The series was extremely popular and their author became famous from writing them.

Book 6 of the Oz series, The Emerald City of Oz (1910), is a great read. It follows two converging point-of-view narratives with Dorothy on a cutesie-pie walkabout through the realm while the Nome King, Roquat the Red, prepares a subterranean invasion of Oz. The invasion story is wholesome fun, but I want to focus on one of Dorothy's encounters, during her visit to Bunnybury.

Here's her description of the place:

Dorothy now found herself in a city so strange and beautiful that she gave a gasp of surprise. The high marble wall extended all around the place and shut out all the rest of the world. And here were marble houses of curious forms, most of them resembling overturned kettles but with delicate slender spires and minarets running far up into the sky....

But the rabbit people were, after all, the most amazing things Dorothy saw. The streets were full of them, and their costumes were so splendid.... Silks and satins of delicate hues seemed always used for material, and nearly every costume sparkled with exquisite gems.

Yes, Dorothy goes to the land of the rabbits, and lunches with their King (Chapter 20).

And check out what he says to her:

"I've often thought," said Dorothy, who was busily eating, "that it would be fun to be a rabbit."

"It is fun—when you're the genuine article," agreed his Majesty. "But look at me now! I live in a marble palace instead of a hole in the ground. I have all I want to eat, without the joy of hunting for it. Every day I must dress in fine clothes and wear that horrible crown till it makes my head ache. Rabbits come to me with all sorts of troubles, when my own troubles are the only ones I care about. When I walk out I can't hop and run; I must strut on my rear legs and wear an ermine robe! And the soldiers salute me and the band plays and the other rabbits laugh and clap their paws and cry out: 'Hail to the King!' Now let me ask you, as a friend and a young lady of good judgment: isn't all this pomp and foolishness enough to make a decent rabbit miserable?"

So many elements of Dany's desolation in Meereen are laid out right here. The complaint about uncomfortable showy clothes and of feeling confined in splendor befitting a ruler. Also the fatigue with ceremony and attention, all "pomp and foolishness" making the monarch "miserable".

By the way, after luncheon, the king presents an acrobatic dance show for his guest (Chapter 21):

"It is our royal duty, as well as our royal pleasure," he said, "to provide fitting entertainment for our distinguished guest. We will now present the Royal Band of Whiskered Friskers."

As he spoke the musicians, who had arranged themselves in a corner, struck up a dance melody while into the room pranced the Whiskered Friskers. They were eight pretty rabbits dressed only in gauzy purple skirts fastened around their waists with diamond bands. Their whiskers were colored a rich purple, but otherwise they were pure white.

After bowing before the King and Dorothy the Friskers began their pranks, and these were so comical that Dorothy laughed with real enjoyment. They not only danced together, whirling and gyrating around the room, but they leaped over one another, stood upon their heads and hopped and skipped here and there so nimbly that it was hard work to keep track of them. Finally they all made double somersaults and turned handsprings out of the room.

Compare their frisking with this moment from ADWD Dany III:

As the drums reached a crescendo, three of the girls leapt above the flames, spinning in the air. The male dancers caught them about the waists and slid them down...

On second thought, best not. L. Frank Baum was definitely not thinking of topless dancing bunny pornography here and neither should you.

Look, I'm not saying that GRRM was explicitly or intentionally referencing this scene or that we can know for sure he ever read it, without Word of GRRM one way or the other. But I do think the books can be read as a delicious gumbo of all kinds of cultural influences beyond his deconstruction of Tolkien-inspired epic fantasy like Tad Williams's Memory, Sorrow, and Thorn tetralogy. Reminders of ASOIAF scena are everywhere; some of my personal favorites are: The Godfather, The Court Jester, I, Claudius (short version), I, Claudius (long version), and Gone With the Wind.

GRRM has an uncanny ability to remix motifs from across multiple genres, formats, and cultural eras into something that feels both familiar and startlingly original, something with the capacity to constantly reinvent itself anew. It's an ability that he happens to share with the original Wizard himself, an entertainer and storyteller writing over 100 years ago about strangers in strange lands and the magic and wonder that they find there.

What do you think? Have you noticed other elements borrowed or referenced from the original American fantasy realm, the marvelous Land of Oz? Or other cultural references that seem underappreciated?

originally posted at https://www.reddit.com/r/asoiaf/comments/8laanv/spoilers_adwd_wearing_the_floppy_ears_a_1910/

[ask-de-writer]

I would like to thank Delightfully

EAGER BINGE READER

@furislupus​ for READING and LIKING

EMERALD’S LUNCHEON

MLP Fan Fiction and

DR. MORDENHEIM’S TRAVELS, BOOK 1:De Writer’s

Equestria,Chapters 1 to 5, and Chapter 8

Hosted Tales

[skelingtonsderek]

Polyglot but it’s ya boy(d)

Thank you for sending the ask! I'm going to need all the distractions I can get this week from this awful tooth situation! <3 I hope you like it. :]

For the ask game

Words are a lot like keys. If you got them in your pocket jangling and never pull them out then all you got is extra weight to carry around. Another thing to maintain and less room for something that might be more useful. Boyd carries a weight that has only gotten larger and larger as time has passed. He enjoys his little collections of words. He’s got sets in four or five types of English, a bigger cache of Latin than he would ever find use for, an embarrassment in Aramaic he won’t answer for, small salt and pepper pots of German and Spanish, a luncheon of French, and only a few palmfuls of Pashto. It’s never a lot but it’s more than he’ll ever have need for. It’s much the same for the stashes of actual keys he has as well. He’s been keeping both since he was little enough to stand eye to eye with a locked doorknob.

What Boyd learned long ago is that just because there is no locked door before you at the time you come across a key, does not mean there will not be one eventually. It’s a matter of time as it were and Boyd is all about keeping as many doors open for himself as he can. When he was younger he thought of it more in terms of his own secret treasure and he a dragon upon his metaphorical hoard. Every new word a shining ruby or emerald. “As-tu oublié? Vingt, neuf, quarante et un. Idiot!” Boyd grins. “Why are you smiling, eh?” The idiot points his little Glock in Boyd’s face.

He works the last stitch open on his coat sleeve and pulls out the small handcuff key he keeps there. “Oh nothing much, gentlemen. I am merely ruminating upon my fortune as of late.”

Find it on AO3

[topsybalfour]

Topsy read the menu without truly seeing it.

Why was motherhood so hard? She had borne both Edwin and Emerson with nary modern medical intervention. They had supped on her bone marrow, for goodness sake. And now she was here, at luncheon with her thirty-odd year old eldest, who thought that he knew the world and everything in it.

She exhaled slowly. Read the appetisers.

When she had composed herself, she looked up coolly.

"Lamb, darling," Topsy said, as if nothing whatsoever had just occurred. Because it had not. Edwin was her son; he was permitted these little outbursts. It demonstrated her strength as a person to weather the storm - so the columnist in The Sketch advised, but they seemed a dreary, new-life sort that believed in communal living among la boheme and releasing onself from the sanctity of marriage. Still, the breathing exercises did help.

And, because she was not a total witch, regardless of what Edwin thought, she shot him a wry smile. "Seafood in Ripon? I should think not."

She had to wait, of course, until the waiter took their order - and she, naturally, permitted Edwin charge of the role, lest he grow even sulkier with her due to some invisible slight to his manhood. Once that ordeal was over, Topsy sipped her refreshed champagne and contemplated conversation topics.

"So." An agonising pause.

She adjusted the rings on her fingers: gold through to emerald. Lord, had she truly been married that long? Distracted, Topsy had another sip of champagne and contented herself with listening to ambient conversation.

There it was, the whap of the menu, the blow landing a dangerous second after the anticipation had faded. Adjectives like strong and fulfilled felt a little more pointed than the sharp end she’d just run through him.

“Of course I’m not trying to bully you,” said Edwin, relenting faster than he would have with anyone else. “I’m trying—“

To look out for you, but one didn’t need to do that with the Viscountess, did they? He transferred his attention to the menu, trying not to look like the kicked cur he felt too much like.

“Lamb, Mother? Or would you prefer seafood for the table?”

What he wanted to take out the snuff box and rub that stuff right into his gums.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Can I ask for an request where Levi is a soldier who is pointed to protect a royal person. Then he fell in love with her active attitude, smart brain and support to the scout

AN: This took me so long. I deleted it like three times on accident so this is as good as its going to get 😂. do let me know though if I misspelled anything I didn't skim over it sooooo YOLO.

Summary: Levi is asked to attend the summer gala with !princess reader.

Word Count: 2.8 K

Warnings: mentions of Levi's scarring, some cussing? I think? that's about it

__________

Levi's hand trembled as he ran the fine toothed comb through his damp hair. He scowled back at his own reflection, eyes avoiding the pink scars that marred his skin. It had been nearly a year since he had been discharged from the military due to his injuries. At first he had struggled to find a routine, having been in the military for more than half of his life, it was a huge loss.

His hand jerked unexpectedly and the comb pulled through a knot in his hair painfully. He clicked his tongue and dropped the comb, gripping the edges of the sink to steady himself.

How pathetic.

There was a time when he could complete these tasks with no problem. But now his body seemed to be failing him, if he stood for too long his joints protested, he struggled to hold a pen due to his lack of fingers. He also wore an eyepatch to cover his milky right eye and some of the scars that covered the right side of his face.

Normally Hange would help him get ready, they were the only person he could stomach seeing him this way. But Hange was busy, they had meetings all morning. So Levi was left on his own, and he managed as well as he could. Although it took him double the amount of time it usually took, he still did it.

He grabbed his cane on his way out of his humble apartment, the carriage was waiting for him outside. In the carriage was the last person he wished to see, Zeke Jaeger. His glasses glinted in the sunlight as the coachman held the door for Levi who sat as far away from the war chief as possible.

Zeke blew out a puff of smoke, which swirled around in the small space. Levi's lip curled into a sneer, and Zeke smirked pleased to rouse a reaction from the retired Captain.

"Big day today eh Levi?" He spoke around his cigarette and Levi rolled his eyes.

"I suppose." He agreed, eyes never leaving the man.

That was about the only words exchanged between the two, the ride was thankfully short. The carriage arrived to the castle just after noon, the coachmen opened the door for Levi and Zeke. The sunlight was bright and made Levi squint, it didn't help that the castle seemed to glow as the sun bounced off of it.

"This way old friend." Zeke instructed and Levi followed begrudgingly, Zeke led Levi through the halls and into a large ball room. The castle staff was scurrying about, carrying massive bouquets of flowers and other decorations in preparation for the summer gala. Levi had attended this very event many times over his career, but he had not intended on joining in this year. Zeke paused a few feet away from Erwin, who was standing before a young woman Levi had met a handful of times. You had aged in the past two years that he hadn't seen you, although you weren't any taller, he could see the age on your face. Much as he assumed you could see in his, you also carried yourself more confidently, shoulders back, chin up.

Erwin paused and turned to greet the two men, who both saluted him and you.

"Captain, how nice to see you." You hummed, a pleased glint in your eyes as you curtsied, much to his surprise.

"You as well Zeke." You seemed less excited to see the war chief.

"Princess, you look lovely." Zeke closed the distance between the two of you, taking your hand a bit too eagerly and bringing it to his lips. You smiled a bit tersely, but allowed it.

"Ah, and you look...as hairy as the last time we met." Your jab threw Levi off, but Erwin seemed to have expected the exchange. Zeke laughed heartily and pulled back.

"Such a sharp tongue on you princess." He chuckled and you shrugged, a smug grin on those lips of yours.

"You make it easy."

"Princess, you are aware that Levi is to accompany you to this year's gala yes?" Erwin steered the conversation in a more relevant direction and you nodded.

"Mhm, and I'm very excited to be escorted by Eldia's most eligible bachelor." Levi wasn't sure if you meant it sincerely, or if it was his turn to face the wrath of your sharp words.

"I'm sure you are." Erwin chuckled, his hand falling on the back of your tricep. You gathered your skirts and took a few steps closer to Levi.

"The last time we met, you weren't keen on dancing, I do hope that's changed." You smirked at him and Levi barely fought the flush off of his cheeks as you pushed past him.

"We can go in the drawing room and discuss logistics, the gala is a mere week away after all-" Levi tuned out whatever it was Erwin was babbling about, too focused on watching you saunter out of the room.

__

Levi spent the next week trailing behind Erwin, attending meetings and luncheons with other high ranking military members. It was boring, but nothing that he hadn't done before. The day of the gala, Hange arrived with the remaining of the 104th cadet corps. Levi felt great relief at seeing the familiar faces, Hange had eagerly came to hug him, and he pretended to hate it. Mikasa even came and gave him the briefest of embraces, Connie had been the most excited, throwing his arms around his former captain and squeezing him tightly. Armin had grinned sheepishly, and offered a small wave. Jean just nodded respectively in Levi's direction. Gabby and Falco had tagged along as well, wearing their best uniforms, decorated with their medals.

"I can't believe we get to come to the summer gala!" Connie gushed, his hazel eyes wide as he soaked in the castle in all of its glory.

"We won a war." Jean huffed, eyes sharp, hand fidgeting with his medal on his lapel.

"We lost more than we won." Mikasa murmured, her own shaky hands reaching for a scarf that was no longer wrapped around her neck. The cheery mood quickly dissipated at Mikasa's statement, Hange cleared their throat and clapped their hands in an attempt to drag everyone from their thoughts.

"Let's go meet Erwin then." They said, and Levi nodded.

"Let's." The group walked through the halls, Hange in the lead and Levi at their side, it felt like old times. The kids, well they weren't really kids anymore, were beginning to return to their annoying selves.

"-will we be able to eat the food?" Gabby asked, and Levi nearly flinched, the statement reminded him all too much of Sasha. Connie seemed less phased, he sighed and brought his arms behind his neck as they walked.

"I sure hope so."

"We're here on business." Mikasa reminded them and Jean hummed in agreement.

"We're here as representatives." Armin added, and Hange chuckled.

"Use this as an opportunity children." Hange cooed, pausing in front of the doors to the drawing room.

"Have some fun, get drunk, you've earned it." Hange then pushed the doors open, revealing the cozy drawing room, Erwin sat with his legs crossed in one of the arm chairs, a book in his lap. He closed the book and stood, his sleeve hanging limply where his arm once was.

"Cadets, erm or should I say captains." Erwin chuckled awkwardly as the kids all jumped to salute him, fists clenched over their hearts.

"Commander." They all greeted in unison.

"Sit, we have much to discuss."

__

The discussion was rather tame, a short bit of it had been relevant. Where the kids were to stand, what they were to say and how they were expected to act. The rest of the afternoon had been spent catching up and enjoying each other's company. Just a few hours before the guests were to arrive, Erwin sent the group off to find their spots.

Levi found himself waiting outside of your room, his watch gripped tightly in his fist, watching the minutes tick by. You emerged about fifteen minutes after him arriving, your dress was a deep emerald green, elegantly hugging your frame in all of the right places. You smoothed the silk gown skirts and smiled at him, the red lipstick on your lips making your teeth seem extra white.

"You look ravishing Captain." You complimented, accepting his arm before walking slowly down the hall, careful to keep his pace.

"...as do you." He choked out, a blush tickling his ears.

"Did you get all done up for me?" You pressed, hand tightening around his bicep.

"No." He answered, although he was partially lying, the truth was all he could think about as he dressed, was you. How would you be dressed? Was he to match you? Or was he expected to wear his usual military dress? He had opted for the latter, and it seemed to work well, the inky black dress coat and the gold medals that decorated his lapels seemed to compliment the emerald in your dress.

"Well, I sure hope that you will at least dance with me." You pouted, shooting him a hopeful look.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue, truthfully it was all that he could mange, he was nervous enough about joining you this evening. But you asking him to dance? He had never danced in his life, and with his legs in the state they were in now?

The two of you stopped, overlooking the ball room which was already filled with guests, milling about with flutes of champagne. You snuck a glance at Levi, who was looking down at the crowd with a bored glaze over his eyes.

"Ready?" You asked, squeezing his bicep once and he nodded, chin held high as the two of you slowly made your way down the staircase. Levi's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces, which he found in their designated spots. He knew that the king had asked him to accompany his daughter largely as a political move, not for protection as he had in the past. But old habits die hard, he double checked exits and kept an eye out for shady people, it was easier than looking at you after all. Not because you were ugly, rather the opposite, you were stunning and that intimidated him.

After at least forty five minutes of socializing, the dancing began and you tugged impatiently on his arm, which you had yet to let go of.

"Please Levi, just this once." You whispered so only he could hear, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at your closeness.

"Princess." He said sternly, although his voice did shake a tad, and you grinned, knowing that you had nearly convinced him.

"Captain." You countered, taking a step towards the dance floor.

"Just one." he said after a moment's hesitation before falling back in step with you.

"Just one." You affirmed with a wicked grin as you led him into the mass of bodies.

Levi felt his pulse race, his anxiety was roaring he had absolutely no clue how to dance, especially with his legs in the state that they were. You seemed to sense this, carefully taking his hand and resting it on your hip as you stepped ever so closely to him. Your chest was pressed against his, and he was sure that you could feel the pounding of his heart as it threatened to escape his ribcage.

"You just follow my lead." You whispered as he brought his other hand to rest naturally in the palm of yours. He nodded, eyes wandering down to glance at his feet, which were partially concealed by your skirts.

"It goes something like this, step-" You took a step towards him and he took one back.

"Then to the left," You instructed softly and he obliged, the two of you moving slightly out of sync.

"Then forwards again." You nodded as he stepped forwards and you stepped back, skirt swaying.

"Then to the right," You chuckled as his brows remained fixed in a tight knot as he tried to focus.

"Then we do it again." You seemed satisfied, and he nodded it was simple enough, although he could already feel the strain of the activity in his joints.

"Easy." He huffed, taking the lead and you giggled and fell into step with him.

"Tell me Levi, when you went across the ocean and fought those men, who were you fighting for?" The question caught him off guard and he nearly forgot the next step.

"That's an odd question." Levi shot you a mean look and you shrugged.

"I want to know what pushed Humanities strongest to be so strong." You answered, unfazed by his sour look.

"I fight for the people." He replied curtly and you sighed.

"That's a boring answer, I want to know what really drives you." You pressed and Levi frowned.

"Its the truth."

"Then tell me a lie." You raised a brow, challenging him and he screwed his nose up in distaste.

"Why would you want me to lie to you?" He asked out of genuine curiosity, no one had ever given him such a request.

"To spice some things up I guess." You hummed nonchalantly and squeezed your hand that held his.

"Then I would tell you I fought that war for you." He regretted the words, but you seemed to be pleased by them.

"Aw so you did think of me while we were apart." You cooed and Levi nearly broke away from you, but he only gripped your hand harder.

"You were the last thing on my mind." he huffed and you let out a throaty laugh. A lie, he thought of you often.

"You really are funny." You let your head fall affectionately into the crook of his neck and he swallowed thickly, as your scent washed over him.

"I didn't mean to be."

"I know, that's what makes it funny." Your breath tickled his neck as you spoke, you seemed to be in no hurry to pull away.

"Hmph." He hummed stupidly, unable to form words with you so close.

The song ended and you lifted your head, one of those wide grins sprawled across your lips.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" You whispered cheekily and he scoffed as the two of you exited the dance floor. You both found a seat at one of the tables set on the outskirts of the room, taking a break to drink and enjoy each others company.

Levi rubbed his knee under the table, the dance had truly taken a toll on him and he barely suppressed a groan. You noticed, shooting him a concerned look.

"Does it bother you often?" You asked, dragging your chair closer to his. He rolled his eye and pulled his hand slowly away from his leg.

"No."

"You're lying, just tell me the truth."

"I thought you wanted me to lie to you." He snapped back and you scoffed.

"Not about this." You reasoned and he sighed deeply.

"Yes, it hurts like a bitch." He turned to face you, his knee knocking yours and you frowned.

"You should've told me, I wouldn't have made you dance."

"I-" He paused, catching himself before the words left his mouth. But after one look at your open and concerned face he couldn't not say what he had been wanting to say.

"I wanted to." He admitted and your eyes widened a fraction.

"You...really wanted to?" Your words were raw and clearly Levi had caught you, the witty young princess off guard.

"I did."

"Would you do it again?"

"Yes."

"Hm." A smug look crossed your face and Levi scowled at you, not liking the way you seemed to be plotting something unbeknownst to him.

"What?" He snapped and you let out a short burst of laughter.

"I knew that you weren't lying when you said that you thought about me." You teased and he growled lowly under his breath.

"Maybe that was your last dance with me."

"Easy now, let's not be hasty, we have the whole night after all darling." You patted his shoulder, standing slowly and walking around the back of his chair to squeeze his shoulders before slipping off into the crowd.

He hoped that you meant it, that you would come back even if he could not dance with you again. He hoped that you had thought of him too, that his fighting had all been worth it. To spend the rest of his life by your side, even if he was just your guard or even a political ploy. He would do it for you, and he would do so happily.

[cheekygreenty]

His Queen - The Darkling x Reader

bitch, I think I outdid myself on this one. I'm shocked I wrote this

He hated the Tsar. He hated himself, but he didn't hate you. How could he of let this happen, he's never been a slave to his emotions. You were married, no, scratch that, you were the Queen for Saint's Sake. The Tsar had made it common knowledge that you didn't belong anywhere but the Grand Palace, in a glittering gown and a jeweled crown upon your always perfect hair sitting in front of a fire sipping on your tea. He wanted you nowhere near the action or actual Palace life. You were merely an accessory to him.

The young and innocent girl raised in nobility, who caught the old bastard's eye by fluttering your eyelashes at him, longing for his person.

Bullshit.

Aleksander could see your repulsion whenever you were in your husband's presence. The longing eyes as you looked at the doors, the shiver that rattled your spine as his sweaty hand gripped yours, or the increasing sadness in your eyes as the months went on. The jewels around your neck glistened, but your eyes didn't. Not anymore.

He had done some digging in the months following the wedding, and rest assured you didn't belong anywhere near the palace. You were scrappy, ready for a fight at all times. There were numerous accounts of you running around villages, fighting your way through pubs and inns. Your parents, the Duke and Duchess, were downright ashamed of you before your big day. You were itching to drop everything and join the First Army the second you had the chance. You were skilled in ways no noble was; you had street smarts.

Then the late Queen died and you were presented on a silver platter to the King, donning all the family jewels that never sit quite right. The King couldn't help himself, the public blamed the grief for his hasty marriage, 'he needed a companion.' But in reality, he saw what he could have and grasped you up the second he had the chance. And now you were stuck here, in a cage with no way out.

Aleksander didn't take a liking to you at the start. All he saw was what the King wanted him to see and for that, he feels tremendous guilt. He thought you to be proper and uptight and spoiled, so when you approached him the first time, franticly asking for advice about a simple state matter that was dropped into your lap by the General himself, he couldn't help but snigger at you and convey news of the stupid Queen to his fellow Grisha.

He didn't know the King treated you like a child or that all of this was new to you. I should've seen it he cursed himself, for the weeks to follow you were the talk of both the Palaces and news spread to camps on the front.

The stupid, young, ditsy girl who couldn't put together a luncheon for Ravka's war heroes was the Queen. Ridiculous.

He believed it too until he had seen you out one night when he couldn't sleep. You were deep in the forest, tending to your black stallion and in what looked like peasant clothing. You had mud on your boots and your hair was messily braided. There was a tatted punching bad tied up on a tree and another person sitting against a log, breathing heavily and clutching his side. Aleksander never made himself known, just blended into the darkness as he did best but continued to watch you eagerly. Only then did he faintly make out your bruised knuckles and the tears in your breeches.

'Again?'

'Saints Y/N no, I've got a way to go and the way you just bruised my ribs, I've a painful journey ahead of me' mused the sitting man.

That night, Aleksander sent out his best Grisha to collect information and asked Genya to tend to you, but you denied yet again (only after asking her to fix up your hands).

Ever since then, Aleksander has been observing you and getting to know you when he could, telling his Grisha it was to gather information since Genya was no longer garnering the Queen's secrets, but he felt drawn to you for whatever reason. You were the best part of his day; whether it was a simple smile sent his way or you rambling about the ways you avoid being followed around the palace, he listened intently and set the shared memories into his brain.

The General was a mystery to you. With his extremely handsome face and confident stances, he mesmerized you to the point of a blank mind. Whenever your eyes met his, it could be in a room of 60 people, rest assured you were right by his side in an instant. You had sought out his presence wherever you went and clung to it while you could.

But the King had made his opinion of the Darkling obvious, and his hatred ran deep. 'He likes to think he rides a horse above everyone else.' 'He's most unnatural.' You didn't care though. As long as he kept himself away from you and just used his words and not actions, you were fine.

You had gathered a particular kindness for late evening walks before bed, silently slipping onto the grounds of his palace, awaiting his companionship. It might have only been 40 minutes out of your day, but it was always better than not seeing him.

Ivan had pointed out that you had an air of hostility around you every time you were in a room with your husband and your heart tended to beat dangerously fast as if you were panicking. So Aleksander attempted to pull you away from him and distract you from the horrid man, and it seemed to work. He grew to like you and would miss your witty humor when he went back to the Little Palace.

Months had passed and he never grew sick of your presence, ironically he craved more of it. He tried to tell himself that you were just a part of his plan, nothing more, but things got even more complicated. He had accidentally mentioned seeing you that night in the forest, and instead of being hostile about it, you told him you enjoyed a fight or two and invited him to join you. That night, after multiple rounds of sparring and hard hits, he kissed you fervently. And again and again, until you both got past the point of going back.

You acknowledged the risk only after it happened and started to panic. You had an affair with the General of the Second Army. He seemed to be in the same state as you. But before you went your separate ways, he held you in his arms and promised it would all be ok. You believed him.

He got back to his chambers that night and his demeanor changed behind the closed doors. He was so mad. He always swore to take what the King loved most and destroy it before his very eyes, but this was a sick joke the Saints played on him. He needed to protect you, get you out of the Tsar's grip, and hide you away from any harm. There was nothing he wouldn't do to keep you out of danger's way and he knew it. Why did he let this happen? He knew that whatever your ending may be, you would get hurt, maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

You had told him of all the things the King did to you, how he treated you and paraded you around. You begged Aleksander to do something about it, to help you get out of that life and back to your old one, but there was nothing he could do and it broke his heart.

'I wish I could do something Y/N, I truly do, but I am not as powerful as you may think I am. The King is still the King' he had told you, guilt building in him.

He was sitting at his desk in his chambers now, looking out the window feeling fidgety. You were late for your evening walk, like really late. Sure it happened before, but Aleksander had a weird gut feeling that something happened. Maybe the King found out? or maybe you finally realized the magnitude of the situation and came to your senses?

He knew if the King whiffed out a sliver of what was going on with his wife and Aleksander, he would rain hellfire. He was a powerful man, the most powerful man in all of Ravka and there was nothing more dangerous than an embarrassed man's actions.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud noise he hadn't heard in a very long time, followed by the very loud thuds of falling books. The tunnel?

'ALEKSANDER?' your panicked voice reached him and triggered something primal in him. fight or flight. He and his shadows shot up and ran to you but stopped dead in his tracks, the black matter disappearing in on itself. You stood at the entrance to the tunnel, visibly shaking with anger, but that's wasn't the cause of his shock.

'Saints Y/N' He whispered, realization flooding over him like a nasty wave of ice-cold water. Your once ivory white nightgown was drenched in crimson but you were uninjured, it wasn't yours. The huge green Lanstov emerald sitting atop your left hand was smeared in red too, giving it a brown tinge.

'I need to get out of here right now.' You sounded solid and stern, the panic was long gone. The scrappy fighter was back.

Aleksander had always known what to say. But now, he didn't have a single word come to his mind and his body refused to move, he was rendered speechless and useless. This is a nightmare, surely, he prayed.

'Y/N I-I, What happ-'

'Aleksander, unless you want to see my head on a pike by dawn, I suggest you help me' You said as you moved across the room, after closing the tunnel door firmly shut. How does she even know about these tunnels?

'I once heard a drunkard speak of tunnels beneath the palaces, I tried my luck' You said answering his question without even being asked,

Your hands moved quick, shedding yourself of the nightgown and holding it in your hands as you moved to grab his black robe off a chair. Aleksander still stood there, his head whirling with so many thoughts, it debilitated him. He needed her to say it.

'Y/N did you do what I think you did'

'You know I did'

At that moment the doors burst open to reveal Ivan with an alarmed look on his face and his hands raised, ready to jump into action, most likely alerted by the falling books. But he faltered when he saw you, The Queen, covered in blood and holding a bloody nightgown in the most secure room of the Little Palace.

'Great another witness' You huffed and dumped the gown into the fireplace.

'Moi soverenyi, what is the meaning of this?'

'Ivan I wish I could tell you.'

'I killed the King. I have approximately 3 hours before somebody notices him laying in his own blood with his neck slit open' You sighed and sat down, head in your hands. This was the first moment you'd had to process it all, and it was overwhelming, to say the least.

A silence enveloped the room as the fire roared back to life, already having burnt the evidence to a crisp. Aleksander finally came to his senses, moved and grabbed a bowl of water and a cloth.

'Did anybody see you leave?' He asked as he handed you the items to wash your hands of the sticky blood.

'No. I made sure of it. I traveled through the tunnels.'

'And the King? There is no weapon near him?' Ivan interrupted.

Slowly you bent down and pulled a small dagger out of your shoe. Small but sharp.

'Give that to me' Aleksander took it out of your hands and walked out of the room while you continued to scrub the crimson off your hands.

You momentarily looked at Ivan, he didn't look mad or upset. He looked like a soldier.

'Are you not mad your King is dead?' You mused.

'He was not my King'

'That makes two of us' You were done cleaning your hands and moved to clean the ring. Should I burn this too?

'Leave it on. If things go sideways, you can buy your freedom' Aleksander returned. 'Ivan go get 2 horses and pack essentials. Get Genya too. I trust you to keep quiet.'

'Yes Moi soverenyi, Moya tsaritsa' He bowed his head quickly and waltzed out the room.

'Aleksander I'm scared now.....what have I done' You whispered. He took hold of your hand and pulled you into him. He held you tight, not wanting to let go.

'It's going to be ok. I promise. There's a small cottage down south I want you to go to. Ivan will take you. You will be safe. I will right this. I will protect you as I should've done earlier.' He kissed you deeply, letting all of the emotions flow through without the need for words.

'And what then?' You whispered against his lips.

'You be you. Perhaps go to Ketterdam. I feel you belong there... or come back to me when the time is right' He kissed you again, it was sweet and sad. A goodbye kiss. 'I love you, and even though you don't like it, you are my Queen. Forever'

'I love you too' Your hands fisted at his beautiful black kefta as tears dripped off your face.

****

That night you fled, your hair and appearance completely changed. The peasant clothes you felt comfortable in were on your back while the heartrenderer galloped beside you. Os Alta was still asleep as you sped down south, praying to the Saints that leaving Aleksander to deal with your mess was the right decision. That he would be ok too.

Ravka was shaken by the news of their dead King and the missing Queen. Some say she was dead, kidnapped by Fjerdans, and slaughtered mercilessly, others said Kerch merchants had her thrown in the Fold as she refused to give up information.

Either way, Aleksander had made sure you weren't regarded as a murderer and kept his promise to give you a chance to return to the Little Palace, to him.

Also if u can see this fic plz interact with it!! Idk if my tumblr is fixed yet and I need to make sure!!! If u were tagged and it didn’t notify you like last time, plz tell me!!!! 💓💓

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