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notapradagurl7 · 6 days ago

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Christmas Slump.

Black Fem! Reader x Lando Johnson.

Tv Show: All-American Homecoming.

Summary: You were spending Christmas with your friends, Cam, Simone and J.R. in your house, you had seasonal depression, they decided to help you and your boyfriend Lando wanted to see you.

Taglist: @lavnderluv @soft-persephone @harmshake @westside-rot @siqueth @liatreads @thecookiebratz @thecapodomme @mypointlessdays @keyera-jackson @satoruya @planetblaque @hxneyclouds @hoodbarbiesims @glitterperms @amplifiedmoan @avoidthings @judymfmoody @justhornyyme @life-in-the-slut-house @sageispunk @megamindsecretlair @sweettea-and-honeybutter @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @slippinninque @galaxybam2 @briathecreator @babybratzmaraj

A/N: happy holidays! currently going through some seasonal depression and decided to write it away, don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, fluff, praise,( male receiving) mention of seasonal depression, protected sex, voyeurism, comfort, the reader being sad but was comforted, soft Lando, submissive Lando, AU where Lando and Simone never dated but remained friends,

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The tall green Christmas tree shone brightly of red, green, blue, white lights with the smell of warm Christmas sugar cookies wafting through the air while you sat on the light green suede couch, a mug of warm cocoa in your hand. Taking a sip from it and allowing the chocolate to seep into your tastebuds. The four walls surrounding you are painted in chocolate brown decorated with pictures of you and your friends.

Simone stood by the Christmas tree while decorating it, smiling at the decor. Until her eyes landed on you, a distant look in your dark brown eyes. She walked over and sat beside you.

Cam and J.R. were speaking to each other about his position in baseball and Cam with his music club.

Unfortunately, you were currently going through seasonal depression with classes expecting more of your effort, and the stress overwhelmed you.

Honestly, you couldn't wait for the New Year to arrive already.

Your knotless ginger box braids tied back in a ponytail with your melanated skin shone brightly under the recessed circle snapped lights, dressed in a toffee-colored sweater and black sweatpants, white socks and slippers on your feet.

Thankfully, Simone started a club where black women on campus could have a safe space, to vent about their problems and find solutions. They can feel safe and secure in it.

In the space of your house giving you solace, you were equable and had no problem telling your trustworthy friends about your problems. You were tired of putting on a brave face.

If you could immure the emotions completely and throw away the key, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Your emotions were important, as was your mental health and well-being, not only to you but also to your friends, including your boyfriend Lando, with whom you've been in a relationship for three years.

“Hey, are you okay, girl?” Simone asked softly, her face softened in concern while lips fell into a frown.

You shook your head, your face resting in your palm as you turned around to face her, she gently plopped on the couch beside you.

“The holidays haven't been so merry for me Simone, It's the classes, the stress and expectations of being perfect.." you admitted softly, your voice trailing off.

“I felt the exact same way when I was going through my treatment, tennis and trying to keep it together, as a black women we can have a safe space. Y/N”

You smiled at her words of encouragement, you stood up and hugged her tightly and she reciprocated the warm gesture. “Thank you, Simone,”

“Anytime, that's what I'm here for,” Simone reassured softly, her hand rubbing your back.

With the help of your friends, you danced to music, baked cookies, and binge-watched classic Christmas movies.

But a special someone else was missing in the picture, Orlando. He noticed that

A knock on the door caught your attention, taking a bite of the pink Christmas tree cookie in your hand before swallowing and folding it in a napkin. “I'll get it!” you hollered,

You hurried your way toward the door, when you opened it. There stood your boyfriend Orlando, with a warm smile and bags of gifts in his hand.

“Orlando! I missed you!” you exclaimed, pulling him into a hug just as tightly as he held the gifts.

“Surprise!” Lando exclaimed, stepping inside and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Orlando hugged you back, as the gifts were taken by Simone, J.R. and Cam with gentle smiles toward you and your boyfriend hugging each other.

Hey beautiful, I missed you more,” Orlando smiled, kissing your forehead.

“Lando, you didn’t have to come all this way,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. Your head lifted and looked up at him.

“Of course I did. I know you’ve been feeling down, and I wanted to be here for you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t realized you missed so much. He closed the door behind himself and kissed your forehead sweetly.

You smiled at his words, feeling a flutter in your stomach. “You’re the best Christmas gift I could ask for,” you said, your heart warming at his thoughtfulness.

“Speaking of gifts I figured we could make this a little more festive,” Lando declared, winking playfully as his hand hold yours.

Simone, Cam, and J.R. peeked from the living room, their expressions shifting from surprise to delight. Giving their friend some dap and pats on the back.

“Lando! You made it!” Simone cheered, rushing over to give him a hug.

“Good to see you, man,” J.R. added, giving him some dap.

“Merry Christmas, brother,” Cam chimed in with a smile.

You resumed to watch movies, laughing and playing games in the company of your friends and boyfriend. Making the gloom fade away.

Afterward, you bid farewell to your friends and classmates, they walked out of your house, heading toward Cam’s car and drove away.

Finally leaving you alone with Orlando. He sat beside you with the gift he brought for you in his hand. “And this is for you,” He spoke warmly, handing you the present.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing as you accepted the beautifully wrapped gift adorned with a shiny red bow. "You really didn't have to, Lando. Just being here is enough," you said, your heart swelling with affection.

"Just open it," he urged, a playful smile spreading across his face. You grinned back, the warmth of his presence making the holiday gloom fade again.

With a flick of your wrist, you tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek, simple necklace that sparkled under the lights. "Oh my gosh, Lando, it's beautiful!" you gasped, holding it up to admire the intricate design.

“I saw it and immediately thought of you, it reminds me of beauty and I want you to wear it and remember you're not alone, during times like these,” He

“Thank you,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

You felt a warmth radiate from your chest, and as you leaned in closer, your lips brushed against his.

The kiss was sweet at first, a gentle exploration that quickly ignited into something more passionate.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. Your hands rested against his back. “Let’s head into my room,” you announced boldly.

The both of you stood up from the couch, made your way to your bedroom. You've been trying to become bold when it came to your desires.

Gently pushing him, his back touched the soft sheets of your bed, his breath hitched. “Someone’s getting bold,” he teased, his eyes on you hovering over him making his dick harden in his sweatpants.

“You good with this?”

“Let’s make this night all about us,” he promised, his hand trailing down your body. You could feel the tension melting away, replaced by a warmth in the room.

You undressed him carefully, he did the same for you, clothes littered across the floor. Reaching over the bedside dresser, grabbing the small box of condoms. You picked one up, as you looked back at Lando.

With a teasing glance, you let your hand trail down his thigh. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling him grow even harder beneath your touch. “I'm gonna take care of you,” you moaned softly, moving your hand up and down his dick with a firm yet gentle grip.

His groans, muffled grunts filled the room, “Y/N, that feels so fucking good..” he groaned again,

Encouraged by his reaction, you picked up the pace, using your thumb to roll around his sensitive tip. “You’re so good to me, so handsome, so

Your eyes locked onto his, watching his face contorted in pleasure from your precise touch. “Right there, baby,” he praised, Every sigh, every mention of your name spurring you on, his hips pushing into your hand.

After teasing him, his thick jets of cum spurted out and poured down his dick and your hand, your tongue lick his dick clean and your hand. you gently slide the condom on his dick and hover over him again.

His hands gripped your hips and aimed his length at your entrance, sliding yourself down on his thick dick. Every inch filled you completely.

“Oh fuck..baby,”

Your hips moved at gradual pace, your hands rested on his chest, pleasure flowing through every part of your body. Your walls choked his dick tightly, his teeth dug into his bottom lips.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breaths mingling, the soft slapping of skin against skin, and the little gasps and moans escaping your lips. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the familiar knot of pleasure tightening.

As you picked up the pace, Lando's hands moved to your thighs, pushing you down harder against him. "That's it, just like that, You're taking this dick so well." he encouraged, his voice a mix of praise and raw need.

You leaned down, capturing his lips again, the heat between you two radiating off the bed as it creaked. Lando's fingers dug into your skin, guiding you as you found that sweet spot, the one that made your head spin. “Oh..fuckkk! Lando!”

He watched your cum ooze down onto his, your ass clapped against his pelvis,“I love it when you mess on my dick,” he moaned raspily, his eyes rolling back.

“Baby, I'm close,” he warned, his voice strained.

“M-me too,” you admitted breathlessly, the tension reached its peak. You could feel that familiar wave crash over, and you wanted to take him with you.

His thumb rolled your clit in circles, you screamed out his name, your body shaking underneath him and fell onto his lean body, your nipple brushed across his, his lip trailing along your neck.

“I love you,” he groaned in your ear.

“I love you too,” you panted heavily with a smirk.

You collapsed onto him, rolling beside his body. Both of you panting heavily as the room falls into a peaceful silence. Lando brushed a braids from your face.

“You okay?” he asked in concern, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

“Better than okay, Thank you for being here for me, knowing how to make me feel loved” you replied, a grin spreading across your pretty face.

Lando picked you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom, and settled in the warm water with soapy foam, cleaning the both of you clean.

Lando helped you out, changed into some comfortable attire for sleep, he changed the sheets and blankets, he laid by your side with blankets warm from the dryer. The lemon scent aired the fabric, Kissing your forehead lovingly.

Your heart lifting at the sight of him, his dark curls framing his face perfectly, his warm brown eyes sparkling like the lights on the tree behind you.

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#black!reader #black fanfiction #all american homecoming #lando x black reader #lando johnson #lando x reader #black writer #black christmas #martin bobb semple

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redtsundere-writes · 21 days ago

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Part 25: Strong, Fast & Almighty

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: words.

A/N: Sorry, I got sick and couldn't post uwu

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

“Red?!”

The night had started badly. The ball was just a few hours away, and you were already on the verge of collapse. You stared at the dress with a mix of amazement and bewilderment, unable to believe that the king had chosen that color. The corset, coated in rubies, the soft suede skirt and the sequined bodice sparkled so brightly that you had to squint to keep from going blind. It was a masterpiece, yes, but it also went against all dress codes. Part of you knew it was your fault; after all, curses hardly understood that society ball dresses were supposed to be white, simple and coquette; not flashy, alarming and, much less, sensual.

“Yes, a very deep red,” Kenjaku, who was holding the large box containing the dress, answered your hypothetical question.

“No, I can’t wear this,” you said before reluctantly closing the box.

“Why not? It’s beautiful.”

“It is, but if you want me to infiltrate the sorcerers, this will do the opposite,” you explained.

This was a mess, a crimson-tinged mess. If you dared to wear that dress, you would stand out more than a flare in the middle of winter. It was too daring, too provocative, and wearing it would be the equivalent of throwing a glass of red wine in the king’s face. Now, infiltrating the Zen’in would be much more complicated than it should be, as if that scandalous dress wasn’t already enough of a problem.

“Is there a problem?” Sukuna asked. He came closer, seeing you arguing with your master. They had drawn the attention of some curses, distracting them from unpacking the camp for the night.

“This dress is against the dress code of the ball. If you give me some gold, I can buy another one at…”

“I know,” Sukuna interrupted you.

“You know?” You and Kenjaku asked in unison, stunned.

“It’s not the first time we spied on the sorcerers,” the king explained.

“So, did you choose a red dress on purpose?” You asked, confused.

“Our presence alone is going to make a big impression. So, if we’re going to draw attention, we might as well do it right.” Sukuna took you by the chin so you could look him in the eyes. “I want my queen to shine above all those obnoxious princesses.”

Sukuna gave you a proud smile before leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. Then, with his authoritative voice, he ordered Kenjaku to help you get ready, before retreating to personally oversee the curses keeping the camp in order. “He just wants to make my job harder,” you thought with a mix of annoyance and resignation.

The dress flowed down your long legs, further enhanced by the vibrant heels that seemed to lengthen each step. The sequins hugged your figure like a second skin, while the second suede skirt held on your waist perfectly and fell into an elegant train that followed you with every movement. This dress was unlike any Sukuna had ever gifted you; so much so, that you barely recognized yourself in it.

Kenjaku worked with meticulous precision, brushing and braiding your hair into an elaborate updo that exuded elegance. Then, he applied makeup that was more dramatic than you had imagined. Your face was sculpted with strategic shadows, dark eyeliner highlighted your eyes, and a passionate red lipstick became the finishing touch, lighting your lips like a fire that no one could ignore.

You looked at yourself in the makeshift mirror inside the small tent as Kenjaku added the last of the golden accessories to your hair. What that glass reflected was not your familiar image; It wasn't the dress, the jewelry or the complicated hairstyle that made you feel different. You were no longer the countryside girl who ran through the hills looking for the sunset with her sisters. Now, you were the fiancée of a tyrant. A question, heavy as a rock, settled in your chest: Did that make you a tyrant too?

"You look wonderful, powerful," Kenjaku whispered proudly as he placed the small gold rose-shaped necklace over your cleavage.

Powerful. Even if you didn’t feel it, you had to pretend, cling to that illusion to keep a plan built on fragile probabilities going. Now you were facing the tyrant on the immense chessboard, but blindfolded. You couldn’t see his pieces, and all you had were a handful of pawns to defend yourself. Surrendering would be the easiest thing to do. All you had to do was bow down, obey your king’s every command, and let the chains of fate hold you down completely. You still had time. But you wouldn’t. You couldn’t.

Because even if you were no longer that countryside girl running barefoot under the open sky, you knew you had to move forward. Not for yourself, but for the hundreds of girls in the commune who still were, who deserved a world where tyrants didn’t decide their destinies. You were all they had, and that responsibility was enough to harden your gaze and keep you steadfast.

“Thank you, Kenjaku.” You smiled at him through the mirror. Your teacher patted you on the shoulders, indicating he had finished his part of the job.

“Since we don’t know exactly what awaits you in the Zen’in castle. In case it is a trap, you must escape as soon as possible and get out of here. Don’t go back to camp, go back to Sukuna’s kingdom,” Kenjaku explained.

“How am I going to get there?” You arched your eyebrow.

Kenjaku pulled out of his loose sleeve a yellowish sphere that reflected a rainbow against the light. You had seen it before. It must be one of his curses.

“This is the rainbow dragon. Once it senses that you are in danger, it will come out on its own.” Kenjaku handed you the sphere.

“Where should I keep it?” You rotated the sphere, producing a beautiful change of colors on the palm of your hand.

“Swallow it.”

Your body froze at that instruction. The sphere was the size of a grapefruit. There was no power on earth that would make that go into your mouth willingly. Kenjaku had to be joking.

“I’m not joking,” Kenjaku answered you as if he could read your mind. He took the sphere from your hand. “Open your mouth.”

“He-!”

You didn’t manage to finish your complaint before Kenjaku, with relentless force, began to force the sphere into your body. You squirmed, instinctively fighting against him, but his grip was unbreakable. He mercilessly shoved the sphere down your throat, and the bitter, abrasive taste burned you as if you were swallowing poison. You coughed, trying to resist, but Kenjaku didn’t relent. With one last push, the sphere descended completely, leaving a strange, oppressive weight on your stomach that made you double over from the impact.

“Kenjaku!” You gasped, spitting out the taste of burnt oil that lingered on your lips. It was so intense that it would probably stay there all night.

“It’s for your safety, young lady.”

“Are you done?” Sukuna entered the tent.

Sukuna was wearing one of his classic black kimonos, an outfit as practical as it was imposing, designed to offer comfort and freedom of movement in case war broke out. However, his choice of clothing also blatantly defied established codes. These were much more flexible with men, allowing them to wear formal suits or military uniforms, if they hold a rank of authority. But the great king, with his characteristic disregard for convention, looked somewhat loose, flowing, even markedly feminine. It was an act that would undoubtedly ignite murmurs among the courtiers. Sukuna, as always, seemed to enjoy the provocation.

“Yes, of course.” Kenjaku said with an obedient bow.

“Get out then,” he ordered.

Kenjaku left the tent without a word, leaving the space in a silence that seemed to amplify his absence. You were now completely alone. You looked at your reflection once again, and a smile of approval appeared on your lips as you contemplated how the dress fit your figure perfectly. It was a work of art, a weapon in the form of elegance.

Sukuna approached with his imposing presence, taking one of your hands with a confidence that brooked no resistance. With a slight gesture, he indicated that you should turn on your axis. You obeyed, letting the shining fabric of the dress dance around you, while he watched you with a satisfied look that seemed to say that you were now everything he had imagined... and more.

"Who knew that a daisy could look like a rose?"

There he was again. Comparing you to a daisy. You no longer knew if he said it to mock your innocence or to flatter your beauty. Knowing him, it could be both at the same time.

"You look good, too." You smiled back at him. "Are we leaving now?"

"You just need something else."

From behind him, Sukuna handed you a small sheath. You clicked open the latch and uncovered a red dagger. It was small, the size of your hand, and had a rose engraved on the wooden handle. A subtle but lethal weapon.

“It’s cursed, it will help you in case the dance is a trap,” Sukuna explained before putting the dagger back into its sheath.

“Where am I going to put it? This dress doesn’t have pockets…” You quickly realized a possibility. “Don’t make me swallow it,” you said in fear.

“No, no, no. I wouldn’t do something like that to you.” Sukuna laughed as he saw that Kenjaku’s sphere left you with a minor trauma. “That’s what I have this for.” From his back, he pulled out a garter that was in his other hand.

“Oh, it’ll be hard to put on,” you muttered, complaining about how tedious it would be to put the garter on your thigh with such a tight dress on.

“Not if I do it,” Sukuna offered.

Sukuna made you sit back down, his low, firm voice leaving no room for protest. Then, with a calmness that belied the tension in the air, he knelt in front of you. His gaze locked with yours for a moment, before he reached for one of your legs in a gesture that took your breath away. Your breathing hitched as you realized what he was about to do.

With unexpected gentleness, he placed the tip of your foot on his knee. His rough, battle-hardened hands brushed your skin as he began to slide the garter up your leg. His thumbs moved with a slowness that seemed deliberate, almost cruel, as you bit your lower lip, struggling to hold back any sound that might betray you. The warmth of his fingers was an electrifying contrast against the cold of your skin, a fire that seemed to ignite something deeper within you.

When he reached the right height, he pulled your skirt aside with a precise movement. He pulled out the dagger that had been waiting its turn, and with almost ceremonial skill, secured it between the garter and your leg. He pulled the white ribbons firmly, tightening them in place. His hands lingered just a second longer than necessary, as if he were marking you with something more than just a weapon.

“Are you ready?” Sukuna looked up to meet your flushed face. You could only nod.

The carriage, having been destroyed in the forest of curses, had left you with fewer options. Walking was the only solution to get to the castle. Sukuna, with a mix of authority and pragmatism, carried you for much of the journey. He didn’t say anything, but his actions spoke for themselves: he wasn’t going to let the heels ruin your feet before facing what awaited them.

The path took them to the heart of the Zen’in kingdom, a place that exuded natural splendor and tradition. Leafy trees stood like ancient watchmen, while vines coiled around natural rock formations, creating a landscape that seemed straight out of a painting. The fresh air was an unexpected caress after the stuffy atmosphere of the forest. But the most disconcerting thing was the presence of humans. Elegantly dressed civilians strolled through the cobblestone streets, their suits and jewelry reflecting the opulence of the anniversary they were celebrating.

Their gazes bored into you like sharp knives. Disbelief painted their faces, some filled with fear, others with astonishment. How was it possible that a curse, the king of them all, was walking through their lands, accompanied by a human figure? You could only respond with a nervous smile while keeping a firm grip on his arm. Despite the bewilderment that hung in the air, Sukuna advanced with the same confidence with which one claims what is his.

The castle appeared before you like a colossus of stone and power. Larger and much more imposing than you had imagined, its towers seemed to touch the sky, and the shadows they cast on the drawbridge were almost intimidating. You looked up, trying to take in the full magnitude of it, but soon realized that the walls seemed more of a threat than a welcome.

When they reached the bridge, the guards tensed instantly. There were no words of warning, no attempts at negotiation. The cursed swords glowed as they were drawn, and their wielders assumed attacking stances. “Is this how you’re going to do things…?” Sukuna thought, not even bothering to hide the cruel smile forming on his face. He was ready, more than ready, to cut them into pieces if they dared to challenge him. To him, this was nothing more than a game he had already won.

“Wait!” You stepped between your king and the guards with your arms outstretched. “We were personally invited by the Zen’in kings!” You exclaimed.

“Why would the king invite a disgusting curse?!” One of the guards yelled at you.

“Hey, have more respect for King Sukuna Ryomen!” You defended your king with equal volume.

The two guards froze, as if the surrounding air had stopped. Their eyes widened, and a thin layer of sweat began to glisten on their foreheads. It was obvious that they knew exactly who they had in front of them: Not a man, but a monster, one who could end their lives with a simple snap of his fingers. Sukuna’s aura seemed to fill the space like a crushing shadow, robbing them of every last vestige of bravery. Calmly, you pulled a neatly folded invitation from Sukuna’s pocket. You held it up to them with the friendliest smile you could muster. Not out of fear, but out of empathy, as you fully understood how the poor men felt.

As they took it and examined it, the guards’ expressions changed from terror to nervous embarrassment. It was unmistakable: the invitation was authentic. They clumsily lowered their weapons, the blades clanging against the stone floor. One of them tried to stammer out an apology, but the mere lift of Sukuna’s hand reduced him to silence. They had made the mistake of defying the king of curses, and the echo of that mistake would still haunt them.

“We just want to have a nice night,” you said.

The two guards exchanged quick glances, assessing who would dare lead the unusual guests into the castle. Finally, the guard on the left let out a deep sigh, resigned to the inevitability of the situation, and with an awkward gesture, motioned for them to follow. Sukuna offered you his arm again, and together you began to advance into the castle.

The moment had come. You had to infiltrate among the most powerful humans in the world, and you would do so to the beat of the piano, with the elegance of a piece of music that begins softly, but with each note gaining in intensity. As they crossed the threshold into the courtyard, a crowd of citizens watched them with eyes full of wonder. Surprise quickly turned to fear. Whispers spread among them, wondering if they should do something about it, although, upon seeing someone as imposing as Sukuna, it seemed that not even the air dared to move. Eyes diverted, unable to sustain the weight of his presence.

Sukuna, however, was already used to this kind of reaction. The discomfort, the rejection, the repulsion… he had experienced all of it all his life. It was nothing new to him. He remembered the rocks thrown at his head, the burn marks on his arms, the bitter taste of the poisonous berries he was given when he was still just a child. He had endured it all, like someone who gets used to wounds that never heal, like someone who learns that the world will never have mercy. He was just a child, but even in his vulnerability, he was already a force that others feared.

“My king, what kind of flowers are those?” You snapped him out of his thoughts, pointing to the large purple flowers growing on the vines.

You looked at the castle with a seemingly indifferent gaze, as if everything that happened around you was of no importance. However, deep down, this was not the case. The reality was that other people's opinions affected you more than you wanted to admit. You had grown up in the shadow of a troublesome sister, and so the disapproving glances of old ladies and the murmurs of neighbors annoyed by her ineptitude were no strangers to you. You couldn't even escape when you became a maid. You were used to being the target of criticism, to living with that constant pressure of being judged for the mistakes of others. But what really worried you at that moment, more than the judgment of others, was a simple truth: you were wearing the wrong color.

“They are Clematis. They are related to wisdom, aspiration and mischief,” Sukuna answered, distracting himself from what was happening around him.

“Mischief?” You asked curiously.

“It’s known as the ‘devil’s darning needle’ because it can be toxic to humans and animals,” Sukuna continued.

“Oh, it’s a shame they’re cute,” you commented with a pout.

“The danger doesn’t take away the cuteness,” Sukuna smiled. You could only return the gesture.

You climbed the majestic white marble stairs, the steps seeming to glow under the light of the torches and the hanging chandeliers. Each step echoed softly, like a prelude to the spectacle that awaited you. Before you, the castle entrance loomed imposingly: a gigantic door, carved with intricate details that told stories of wars, victories, and dynasties. Behind that door, you knew, were kings and queens, princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses, the most influential figures in the world.

You had attended balls before, but never like this one. Your previous experiences had been with the middle class, or at public celebrations hosted by the kingdom, where crowds shared laughter, music and simple dancing. But tonight was different. This time, you would be surrounded by people who could truly change the course of history with a single word. And, though you tried to keep your composure, the weight of that thought made your heart beat faster.

The guard leaned toward the announcer, whispering their names in an almost reverent tone. Sukuna, at your side, barely seemed to notice the exchange. His gaze remained fixed on the door, though out of the corner of his eye he watched you with a slight expression of interest, as if he were gauging your reaction. As the announcer gave instructions to the trumpeters, preparing them for what would clearly be an important welcome, you felt the pressure of his hand on your back. With a firm, but almost imperceptible gesture, the king indicated for you to correct your posture.

“You are standing next to the most powerful king in the world, act like it.” He asked you not to be intimidated by what was on the other side of the door.

You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with air as if that could dissipate the tension that compressed your chest, and nodded with determination. Sukuna was right. You had no royal blood, no superhuman powers, nor the refined education necessary to compete with that elite. But you did have something that they could not take away from you: guts. And that would be more than enough to stand firm and not let anyone trample you.

The blare of the trumpets broke the air just as the huge doors of the hall swung wide open. Their sound abruptly interrupted the melody of the orchestra and the perfectly choreographed dance that filled the room. The gazes of those present immediately turned to the entrance, where two figures defied everything they expected.

“Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses and owner of the East Coast, has arrived, along with his partner, Miss Y/n!” The announcer exclaimed to the four winds.

No one applauded. The room, a sea of impeccable military uniforms and white dresses that radiated purity and tradition, was filled with expressions of shock and horror. The contrast could not be more striking: Sukuna, a colossal curse that seemed to absorb all the light in the room with his mere presence, and you, a small lady walking beside him in a red dress as intense as blood itself, as if every step you took was a statement against their norms and customs.

The murmur began to spread like a wildfire, drowning out the last echoes of the trumpets. Everyone seemed to hold their breath, unable to take their eyes off the scene unfolding before them as they moved out of his way. Aware of every gaze that was fixed on you, you clung a little tighter to Sukuna's arm. You could feel the gazes piercing you, but you stood tall, remembering the guts that had brought you here would also be the ones that would take you further.

The hardest part was about to begin: presenting yourself before the kings. You had imagined finding an elderly couple, figures covered in gold from head to toes, with faces weathered by years and responsibilities. However, the reality was completely different, and you couldn't help but feel surprised.

The Zen'in kings sat on majestic thrones, made of white gold, with intricate details of emeralds and green quartz, which shone under the light of the huge chandeliers in the hall. Their youth was disconcerting. At first glance, they seemed only a few years older than you.

The queen was the first to catch your attention. Her dark hair, elegantly cut, framed a kind, almost innocent face, which was illuminated by a calm smile. Her white dress, designed with a simplicity that contrasted with the excesses of the room, made her appear ethereal, as if she were more spirit than flesh. There was something about her that was disarming, a warmth that almost made you forget where you were.

It was the king, however, who truly dominated the space. Even seated, his figure projected an imposing presence. He was tall, his black hair falling naturally over his forehead, and his burly body was hinted at beneath a familiar military uniform. You had seen that design on Commander Naoya, but here, on the king, it seemed like a perfected version. The medals that adorned his chest were not just symbols of achievement, but trophies that spoke of undisputed authority and power. And then there was his face: handsome in an almost insulting way, as if nature itself had decided to give him everything it took to rule. “If Mrs. Inoue saw this, she would faint right here,” you thought wryly, while trying not to let your amazement be evident.

Unlike the rest of the room, they showed no fear. Not a hint of doubt was reflected on their faces as they saw you and Sukuna cross the threshold. Instead, they watched you with measured curiosity, almost as if they were sizing you up. It was a complete contrast to the palpable tension that filled the room. Here they were, the two monarchs of the Zen'in Kingdom, sitting on their thrones as if nothing in the world could touch them, not even the arrival of the King of Curses. And that, more than any murmurs or glances from the others, put you on alert to begin the real party.

"King and Queen Zen'in. It's a pleasure to meet you. We deeply appreciate your invitation," you said as you bowed respectfully to them, unlike Sukuna who only scrutinized them in the same way.

"It's about time. After years of sending the poor idiot Commander Naoya to deliver the invitations and not a clue given in return," King Toji laughed at the situation, cutting the tension in half as the rest of the party continued to watch the scene intently.

“It's a pleasure to meet you as well,” Queen Nozomi added.

“Let me tell you, you have a beautiful kingdom. It's so warm and vibrant, unlike Sukuna's kingdom,” you commented with a friendly smile.

That's how your plan began. The art of conversation. Starting a pleasant chat until you got to the information you wanted to get. You had no idea what information you wanted to get, so anything would be good.

“I'm glad you enjoy our architecture. The vast majority of our buildings are over 400 years old. A true heritage to our culture,” the queen replied elegantly.

Queen Zen'in was just as she appeared to be: charming, warm, and above all, exceptionally polite. Her voice, soft but clear, flowed with impeccable diction, as if each word was measured with precision. Her eloquence was enviable; a skill that you, despite the endless lessons Kenjaku gave you, could barely replicate without nervousness creeping into your tone.

The king, on the other hand, observed everything with a different attitude. His fixed and calculating gaze soon realized that the orchestra had stopped playing, the waiters remained in the kitchen, hesitating whether to come out or not, and the guests continued to look at the scene in disbelief. A slight snort escaped his lips, as if all that uncertainty was an unnecessary distraction.

“What are you waiting for to play?! This is a party! What?! Have you never seen a curse before?!” Toji scolded everyone. Even you felt scolded.

The orchestra, without further delay, began to play again, its notes breaking the silence that had filled the room. People returned to their conversations as if nothing was happening, even though they could now only talk about what was right in front of their noses. The first meeting of King Ryomen and King Zen'in. Something that seemed impossible after a long history of enmity.

"Seriously, I'm very glad you came. This is a historic day!" Toji said excitedly.

"Let's get to the point. Why did you invite me? What do you want?" Sukuna answered coldly, causing the Zen'in kings to become dissatisfied.

"Oh... excuse him, King Sukuna is a very direct person," you said to dispel the tension.

"There's nothing to apologize for, young lady. I'm the same," King Toji told you. "I invited him for business, obviously."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, becoming curious. That simple action, so subtle and loaded with meaning, only fueled his growing curiosity. What kind of business could King Toji be seeking with him? The very idea seemed absurd. It was unthinkable that a human being, whatever his status or power, would want to negotiate with someone like him. Sukuna, a curse of such magnitude, so distant from everything human, so imposing and destructive, could not understand what could lead a human king to even consider such a proposal. But something in the king's gaze, something in the calm with which he had made his offer, told him that there was more than met the eye. And that "more" was precisely what kept him on edge.

"Why don't we talk about it in private? The sooner we talk about it, the quicker we can get back to the party, right?" King Toji stood up from his seat. Sukuna gave you a look to be alert outside his presence.

Toji led him down a hallway, leaving the party behind. People were dancing harmoniously to the song with great elegance and joy on their faces. Under the bright chandeliers, around the soft music and on the beautiful marble floors. The piano sounded harmoniously in your ears. You smiled at the sight of the pianist, the star of the show, playing his master instrument while his body couldn't help but move to the beat. You wanted to join the dance floor already.

"Why don't you take a seat?" Nozomi offered you the king's seat when she saw you standing.

"The throne? No, I couldn't," you refused flatly.

"Oh, come on. The queen is ordering you to." Nozomi told you sweetly. Since you didn't want to offend the queen, you sat on the great throne. "Tell me, what exactly are you to King Sukuna?" She asked you curiously.

"His servant. He only invited me so he wouldn't arrive alone. What kind of king would arrive alone to a high society ball?" You said as if he had forced you to come.

"No... You're not just his servant." Nozomi smiled at you with a certain mischief in her eyes. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. "You're his lover, aren't you?"

"H-how did you realize?", you asked while you thought: "Great, I went from servant to sex object.”

"You can see it in his eyes. It's easy to notice when he has four," Nozomi joked, but then her expression turned nostalgic. "He reminds me of my Toji, he had that same look when we were dating. King Sukuna is completely in love with you."

You quickly realized that she didn't mean "lover" in the vulgar sense of the word. But in the romantic sense. You had noticed it too, that was why it was so easy to sweet-talk him with the technique Yorozu had taught you. The problem now wasn't with him, but...

"The real question is, what do you feel for him?" Nozomi inquired, thinking she would make you blush in embarrassment.

"I love him," you admitted seriously, surprising the queen suddenly. "But, I can't allow it. He's a damn tyrant," you said, holding your skirt in anger.

You had accepted, albeit silently, that you were in love with him. You had known it long before you dared to admit it. You looked for any excuse to be near him, to steal moments from him amidst his constant authority and his world of chaos. You strove to make him happy, to offer him the best of yourself, to be at his level and feel you could walk beside him with dignity. You loved him. There was no other way to describe what you felt. You had loved him even before you realized it, perhaps even before he, with his cold, but undeniable determination, had first proposed to you.

There was something about him that captured you, something that made you feel alive, that lit a fire inside you that no one else could awaken. The way he managed to surprise you, how he saw something unique in you, how he treated you with a delicacy that clashed with his brutal nature, all of that made you think no one else in the world could compare to him. He had transformed you, not only into who you were now, but into someone who had learned to desire, to yearn, to need.

But there was a dark weight to that love. His actions, often cruel and vile, were a poison that ate away at the foundations of what you felt. Over and over you found yourself caught between two extremes: the man who made you feel like a precious flower and the tyrant who destroyed without mercy. That duality tore you apart inside.

And then you wondered: Was it really love? Did you love him for who he was, completely, with his virtues and his monsters? Or had you simply fallen under the spell of his attention, the way he made you feel wanted, special? Was it love or a disguised obsession, born from his ability to fill every empty corner of your heart? That doubt, always present, was the crack in your passion. Maybe, what you felt for him was not as pure as you liked to believe.

“Such a dilemma,” Nozomi whispered beside you.

“Sure it is,” you nodded.

“You remind me of myself when I first started dating Toji. I loved him, but I was too afraid to get close because he was a strong commander and the heir to the throne, while I was just selling bread.” Nozomi scratched the back of her neck, somewhat embarrassed to admit it.

She told you her love story with a warmth in her voice that seemed to envelop every word. It was simple, almost like a tale that could have been lost between the pages of a forgotten book, but in her eyes shone the intensity of something unique.

“I was just a countryside girl,” she began, with a nostalgic smile.

Nozomi worked as a delivery girl at the family bakery, bringing freshly baked breads to the castle every two days, always before breakfast. Her routine was simple, almost monotonous, but she had a secret that made those trips special. From the courtyard, she could see young Prince Toji getting ready for the day through his window. Her eyes always ended up looking for him between the huge windows. One day, driven by a mixture of nerves and bravery, she timidly waved at him. Against all odds, he returned the gesture, but not in an indifferent way, but with a flirtatious smile that made her heart beat faster.

From then on, every morning, the same scene was repeated. Week after week, Toji began to wait for her at the same window, as if the day could not begin without that brief exchange. And then, after months of silent greetings and furtive glances, the king finally took the next step. He waited for her in the kitchen, a place where the walls of royalty seemed to crumble, to meet her face to face.

In the middle of her story, Nozomi's stomach began to hurt. Quickly, you approached to try to assist her, but she gestured to you that she was fine.

"This pregnancy is really testing my patience," She joked softly.

“Are you pregnant?” You asked, surprised you didn’t notice before.

“I’m barely two months pregnant,” she commented. “Do you want to feel?”

On the opposite side of the castle, hidden in the shadows of the maze of vines, a commander and a young woman who the former only known for a few hours were in a scene that was far from anything romantic. He was kissing her aggressively, squeezing her breasts tightly and possessing her ass as if she were nothing, just another toy in his collection. The poor girl was screaming in pain, but she didn’t push him away as she was dealing with the attractive Naoya Zen’in. The brightness of Naoya’s position and his almost perfect face seemed to override any desire to defend herself, even as her moans of pain mixed with the whispers of the wind in the labyrinth.

For Naoya, this was simply an empty ritual, another distraction in the middle of a busy and frenetic life. As a commander, he rarely had moments to “relax”, and these events became the perfect excuse for his personal hunt. There were always women willing to fall into his trap, fascinated by his lineage and his looks. But to him, they were interchangeable, ephemeral toys that lost their luster in a matter of minutes.

This one, in particular, was so boring that she seemed more like a rag doll than a companion. Not even her screams or her dedication could hold his interest. With a mix of contempt and disgust, he pushed her aside as if she were a used garment, leaving her there, alone and humiliated. The young woman called out to him, her voice cracking with confusion and pain, but Naoya had already left, ignoring her pleas with devastating indifference.

With a cynical smile and the air of someone who knows he can get away with anything, Naoya appeared back in the ballroom. His superhuman speed made him stand to the epicenter of the party in the blink of an eye. He adjusted his uniform, impeccable despite his recent “amusements” and let his gaze wander around the room, looking for a new victim to pass the time. It was then that something caught his attention. Amidst a sea of white dresses, a flash of crimson glowed like a living flame.

“What the fuck…?” He whispered angrily to himself.

There you were, the damned servant who had the nerve to shoot an arrow through his back, chatting calmly with Queen Nozomi. The two of you were laughing, as if you were old friends sharing a secret, with your hands holding her belly in a relaxed posture, as if you didn’t have a care in the world. And worst of all, you were sitting on the king’s throne, with a naturalness and impudence that stabbed a pain in his chest.

He strode forward, every movement emanating suppressed fury, as his teeth ground together with each step. His gaze fixed on you was all it took to make the air in the room thick, tense. When he finally stood before you, his presence was imposing, charged with a silent rage that only someone like him could possess.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! Get your stupid ass up!” Naoya grabbed your arm to pull you off the throne.

“Commander Naoya!” Nozomi scolded him. “I asked her to sit down!” She defended you.

“No, Queen Zen’in. It was my fault, I shouldn’t have agreed in the first place,” you said to calm the waters. “See you again, Commander Naoya.” You greeted him with a bow.

“And what a horrible sight you look like,” Naoya replied, crossing his arms.

“And that’s why it’s not good to see you again.” You mimicked his stance.

“There, there.” Queen Nozomi stood up from her seat to scold the two of them. “Now King Toji is making a deal with King Sukuna. If all goes well, it means we’ll see each other more often. You two should try to be friends,” she said with a friendly smile.

“Friend of this disgusting maid? I’d rather die,” Naoya muttered, to which Nozomi gave him a smack.

“Enough!”

The room erupted in applause as the last note of the song faded into the air. The musicians, after a brief sigh of rest, prepared to begin the next number: The Phantom Waltz. An ethereal and moving melody, so perfect in its complexity, it felt as if time itself vanished in its lullaby. You knew it almost by heart; It was one of the first pieces you had tried to play on the piano, though its difficulty had led you to look for something simpler to begin practicing without ever losing the desire to master it one day.

The queen, noticing your gaze fixed on the musicians and the slight glint of recognition in your eyes, smiled to herself. A flash of cunning crossed her face, as if she had just conceived an idea that could change the course of the night.

“Commander Naoya, invite the young lady to dance,” Nozomi ordered.

“What?!” They both objected.

“Do you really want to disobey the queen?” She raised her eyebrow in threat. Naoya sighed dramatically in surrender. He knew his cousin would kick his ass if he disobeyed. You felt like you no longer had a say in the situation.

“You better know the steps,” Naoya took your hand before pulling you onto the dance floor. You looked at Nozomi with pitying eyes, but she only gave you a thumbs up in good luck.

Naoya held you by the waist firmly, his fingers gripping as if claiming something that never belonged to him. His posture was rigid, clearly making it known that this dance was not a gesture of courtesy, but a display of control and superiority. Wasting no time, you adjusted yourself into position, placing your hand on his shoulder, while his other hand maintained its possessive grip. Without a word, the two of you began to move, merging with the stream of dancers who twirled to the beat of the waltz.

The steps were fluid, perfectly synchronized with the music, but there was a palpable distance between you. Each of you looked in the opposite direction, like two children caught in an awkward interaction, pretending not to notice the other's closeness. Naoya kept his expression of bored arrogance, while you tried to keep your composure despite the surrounding gazes.

The ladies in the hall watched you with a mix of jealousy and resentment, whispering behind decorated fans. For them, you were an intruder in their territory, a mere stranger, occupying a place they believed was reserved for one of them: the arm of the young commander of the Zen'in. But, despite their obvious disdain, you couldn't ignore how some envied the attention he bestowed on you, even if it was laced with barely concealed condescension.

“They really hate you,” Naoya mocked you.

“Let them keep doing it,” you said indifferently.

“Hey, just because you have a dress that stands out from the others, doesn't mean you do. You're still a useless servant of a disgusting curse.” His intentions were clear. He was trying to annoy you as much as possible, but you wouldn't let him.

“I don’t care about in the slightest what a stupid, pedantic commander thinks.” Your partner smiled with satisfaction.

“Oh, honey... I know I'm the worst,” Naoya whispered in your ear. “But I still have status, strength and a face carved by angels.”

“By demons, you mean,” you replied quickly.

“You can pretend all you want, but I know you're melting being so close to me.”

“I better go back to the damn hell where you came from,” you whispered to him so no one would hear you.

Naoya smiled, enjoying the spectacle of your frustration. For him, your emotions were a toy, something delicate and easy to manipulate, and he did it with the same ease with which a cat plays with a mouse. The song reached its last beat, marking the perfect moment to execute the final twist: a tip. An opportunity that he, of course, planned to use for his own entertainment.

Even though he didn't consider you the most beautiful woman in the kingdom, there was something about you that intrigued him. Maybe your resilience, your stubbornness, or simply the challenge you represented. His eyes briefly lingered on your lips, tempting and painted in such a deep red that they seemed like a beacon calling to him. Yes, he had already decided.

"Wait... He wants to...?" you thought, confused, noticing the direction of his gaze. It was absurd. What kind of man enjoys irritating a woman and then pretends to kiss her like it was nothing? It was clear you had to act quickly. The music was ending, and Naoya, confident in his ability to get his way, already had the plan outlined in his mind: a smooth and controlled movement, lower your body elegantly and seal the moment with an unexpected kiss in front of the crowd. He was so sure of himself that the sparkle of triumph was already appearing in his eyes.

But you weren't willing to be part of his game. As he moved his hand down your back, preparing to execute the final twist, you took control. With a calculated move, you slid your arm behind his back and, in one swift movement, pushed him off balance. Before he could react, you lightly kicked his foot, destabilizing him. In the blink of an eye, it was him who fell towards you, caught in your arms.

The entire room held its breath, surprised by the unexpected twist. You had made the perfect tip, but with Naoya in the role he would never have imagined: vulnerable and at your mercy. His arrogance was now replaced by a mix of disbelief and a spark of irritation. But you only smiled, triumphant, making it clear that you were not a piece on his board, but a player on yours.

“Look who’s melting now,” you whispered to him as his lips were just inches away.

Naoya had never felt so humiliated, embarrassed, angry, blushing, aroused… His emerald eyes were in shock that his heart was racing as fast as him. No, this couldn’t be happening to him. He was Commander Naoya of the great Zen’in nation, he couldn’t fall under the charms of a maid. A maid who stood up to him. A maid who beat his speed. A maid in a beautiful red dress. A beautiful maid… The applause at the end of the song submerged you, but you didn’t raise it. You wanted to make him suffer a couple more seconds. Naoya parted his lips thirstily, but you weren’t going to give him a drop of yourself.

The trumpets began to sound again, just in time. Someone important had arrived. You reluctantly picked Naoya up and moved away from him to make way on the dance floor. He backed away, confused, lost in the chaos of his emotions. The people around you gasped at the sight of who was in the Zen'in Kingdom, lining up so they could reach Queen Nozomi easily. You felt like you did when you were a maid, lining up against the wall to greet Sukuna.

“Here they are, King Kento Nanami of the Nanami Kingdom and King Satoru Gojo of the Gojo Kingdom!” They announced.

You were stunned to see the kings enter the hall, their presences capturing every glance. “Why are all the kings so handsome?” you thought, almost offended by the injustice of their beauty. First there was Sukuna, with his lethal and magnetic aura; then Suguru Geto, enigmatic and imposing. Then, Toji Zen'in with his great musculature. Now, King Nanami and King Gojo seemed to raise the standard even higher.

King Nanami was a work of perfection: tall, blond, with an impeccable bearing that seemed sculpted for a royal portrait. His navy blue military uniform, adorned with medals, reflected his discipline and elegance. His perfectly coiffed hair and shiny shoes made him look like the ideal dream husband, the kind of man every mother would want for her daughter. His seriousness only amplified his attractiveness, as if every gesture of his was a poem of sobriety and strength.

And then there was King Gojo, your sister hadn’t lied. King Gojo was prettier than her.. His snow-white hair shone under the lights, and his flawless skin had a glow that defied all logic. He wore a white yukata with traditional patterns of the Gojo kingdom that made him look even more ethereal. The blindfold covering his eyes only added to an air of mystery, though it couldn’t hide his colossal presence. If Naoya was a devil made flesh, Gojo seemed to have descended straight from heaven.

Both kings advanced through the hall, their steps filled with a natural majesty. Those present fell into a collective bow, bowing deeply to their authority. Naoya, who had known both of them for years, was already ready to greet them with that friendly arrogance he reserved only for his equals. But he stopped short when he noticed that Gojo had changed direction, advancing directly towards you.

Nanami also stopped, his gaze shifting to where his colleague directed his attention. Suddenly, you felt as if the surrounding air was compressed. Halfway into your bow, you found yourself looking up, caught up in the curiosity of the moment. A shiver ran down your spine at the strange feeling of déjà vu…

Gojo, with carefree ease, pulled the blindfold up to his forehead, revealing what could only be described as a pair of divine treasures: lapis lazuli blue eyes that seemed to hold the entire night sky within them. You were instantly mesmerized, your breath catching in your chest. “Those eyes!” you thought in awe, unable to look away. It was as if a spell had been cast on you, one impossible to break.

“Yorozu?” He asked you.

“Huh?”

THE UPDATE DATE WILL BE SUNDAYS FROM NOW DUE TO PROOFREADING! THX :3

Masterlist.

taglist:

Tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540 @konigswifeyforlifey @kyo-kyo1 @calico-cheriies @imas1mpp @alone-the-honored-one @vlads-dracula3 @bigraga-sk @neeke-lilac02 @shaazd @airandyeah @energiepie @awkward-walking-potato @delightfully-studying @catobsessedlady @danniwerner @paradisestarfishh

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butchjess · 8 months ago

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the jess mariano s2 outfits post.. all of his outfits for every one of his appearances including accessories and other such things found to the best of my abilities . full thing is under the read more

-repeat outfits are not included for my own sanity

*asteriks are to indicate the piece is not an exact match, but very close (couldn't find it or just not 100% sure)

S2E05 Nick & Nora/Sid & Nancy

The Camo Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch, black with stainless steel casing + grey braided string bracelet + dark brown leather belt with Civil War union soldier oval buckle

L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + Rothco long-sleeve Woodland camo shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

Zip-Up Sweatshirt Fit

Nixon “The Rocker” A370 watch

Gray zip-up sweatshirt with US army staff sergeant rank insignia patch + Indera Mills navy blue raschel-knit thermal shirt

Levi’s 501 straight leg jeans*

Swiss modern combat boots

Wet Delinquent Fit

Nixon “The Rocker” A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle knit shirt

Dickies loose fit jeans (logo painted over from back pocket)

Swiss modern combat boots

The Girl From Mars Fit

Nixon “The Rocker A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Gray zip-up sweatshirt with US army staff sergeant rank insignia patch + L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + white long-sleeved Fresno, CA motorcycle sweater*

Levi's 501 dark blue straight leg fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E06 Presenting Lorelai Gilmore

Metallica Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Pushead Metallica No Leaf Clover shirt

The Uniform Fit

Luke's season one baseball cap + Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + gray braided string bracelet

Burgundy plaid flannel + gray t-shirt

Dickies loose fit jeans

S2E08 The Ins and Outs of Inns

Child Labor Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + gray bracelet

Hanes black pocket t-shirt* + Rothco long-sleeve Woodland camo shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Slacker Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + Tasman Empire Airways ltd. vintage red t-shirt + Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle knit shirt

Levi's 501 straight leg fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

Double Denim Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

L.L. Bean Sherpa-lined Trucker style denim jacket + Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle knit shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Toaster Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Green long-sleeve California graphic shirt + Stanfield's white thermal long-sleeve waffle knit shirt

Levi's 501 straight leg fit jeans

S2E10 The Bracebridge Dinner

Don't Need Your Help Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + dark brown leather belt with Civil War union soldier oval buckle

Punk Planet magazine red t-shirt + Stanfield's white thermal long-sleeve waffle knit shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Carriage Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Beige Sherpa-lined suede coat + black plaid button up + black undershirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans*

Swiss modern combat boots

The Glance Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Black fatigue shirt*

Dickies loose fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E12 Richard in Stars Hollow

Innocent Boy Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + dark brown leather belt with oval Civil War union soldier buckle

L.L. Bean Sherpa-lined Trucker style denim jacket + Rothco long-sleeve Woodland camo shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E13 A-Tisket, A-Tasket

Superglue Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

Beige Sherpa-lined suede coat* + Tasmanian Empire Airways ltd. red t-shirt + Stanfield's charcoal long-sleeve thermal waffle-knit shirt

Brown loose fit corduroy pants

The Guy Who Brought Enough Money Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

Beige Sherpa-lined suede coat + green long-sleeve Califronia graphic shirt + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle-knit thermal + black long-sleeve shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

The Phone Call Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Dickies long-sleeve garage blue industrial work shirt with embroidered US flag patch (name-tag included) + black long-sleeve shirt*

Brown loose fit corduroy pants*

White socks

S2E15 Lost and Found

The Gutter Cleaner Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + gardening gloves

Wrangler gas station jacket (no nametag)* + Punk Planet magazine red t-shirt + black long-sleeve shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E13 There's the Rub

Construction Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + blue pen + blue hardhat + dark brown leather belt with oval Civil War union soldier buckle

Hanes gray pocket t-shirt + black long-sleeve shirt

Wrangler black regular fit jeans

Delivery Boy Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

L.L. Bean Sherpa lined Trucker style denim jacket + Dickies long-sleeve garage blue industrial work shirt with U.S. flag patch embroidered on sleeve (name-tag removed) + Hanes black pocket t-shirt*

Brown loose fit corduroy pants

Swiss modern combat boots

Navy Blue Sweatshirt Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Ralph Lauren Polo Sport navy blue USA fleece sweatshirt (02 embroidered on sleeve)* + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

S2E17 Dead Uncles and Vegetables

Despot Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

L.L. Bean navy blue puffer vest + Nordstrom brown button down dress shirt + black t-shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

Diner Boy Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet + blue pen + dark brown leather belt with oval Civil War union soldier buckle

Hanes gray pocket t-shirt + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

Dickies loose fit jeans (logo painted over/removed)

Funeral Party Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Black fatigue shirt + white and black baseball tee*

S2E19 Teach Me Tonight

Ice Cream Cones Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch + leather bracelet

Big Smith green diamond quilted jacket + white striped double pocket linen shirt + black t-shirt + Stanfield's white long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

RVCA Americana olive green baggy fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E21 Lorelai's Graduation Day

Payphone Fit

Dickies navy blue Eisenhower jacket + gray button-up*

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

New York Fit

Nixon "The Rocker" A370 watch

Dickies navy blue Eisenhower jacket + Hardkore Kidd 2002 No Mercy tour shirt

RVCA Americana olive green baggy fit jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

S2E22 Can't Get Started

The Kiss Fit

Dickies navy blue Eisenhower jacket + gray graphic t-shirt* + Stanfield's black long-sleeve waffle knit thermal shirt

Levi's 568 dark wash jeans

Swiss modern combat boots

#jess mariano #gilmore girls #literati #rory x jess #:3 #doing this by season because of the image limit etc etc #some of the screenshots range from 720p to 1080p sorry -_-#any suggestions/corrections are welcomed if you have them

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chic-a-gigot · 4 months ago

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La Mode illustrée, no. 32, 11 août 1867, Paris. Toilettes de Mme Bréant-Castel 28.r. Nve des Pts Champs Envois de la Mon de Commission-generale. 53. rue d'Hauteville. Collection of the Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

Jupon de taffetas gris-Suède, bordé d'un volant ruché dont la tête est fixée par un galon de paille. Robe de dessus pareille au jupon; deux écharpes très-longues, encadrées de grelots en paille, forment par devant une ceinture en se croisant, puis passent sous les bras, et sont encore croisées par derrière; des grelots en paille simulent une sorte de pèlerine sur le corsage montant; manches très-larges et très-longues; manches étroites en mousseline bouillonnée; entre chaque bouillon un galon de paille. Chapeau en tulle gris de Suède, orné de roses. Ombrelle pareille à la robe.

Grey-Suede taffeta petticoat, edged with a ruched flounce whose head is fixed by a straw braid. Overdress similar to the petticoat; two very long scarves, framed with straw bells, form a belt in front by crossing, then pass under the arms, and are crossed again at the back; straw bells simulate a sort of cape on the rising bodice; very wide and very long sleeves; narrow sleeves in bubbled muslin; between each bubble a straw braid. Hat in grey-Suede tulle, decorated with roses. Parasol similar to the dress.

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Costume en deux teintes Bismark. Le jupon (teinte claire) est bordé de dents foncées, surmontées d'un biais. Robe courte (teinte foncée) avec rouleaux clairs sur toutes les coutures, et sur le bord inférieur dents claires, surmontées d'un biais. Depuis le col jusqu'au bord inférieur, gros boutons recouverts en teinte clair; corsage montant en teinte claire; corselet de teinte foncée, orné de dents claires; manches étroites, claires; manches larges et longues, foncées doublées de teinte claire, avec dents claires. Chapeau de même couleur que le costume.

Two-tone Bismark suit. The petticoat (light shade) is edged with dark teeth, topped with a bias. Short dress (dark shade) with light rolls on all seams, and on the lower edge light teeth, topped with a bias. From the collar to the lower edge, large buttons covered in light shade; high bodice in light shade; dark bodice, decorated with light teeth; narrow, light sleeves; wide and long, dark sleeves lined with light shade, with light teeth. Hat in the same color as the costume.

#La Mode illustrée #19th century #1860s #1867 #on this day #August 11 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #color #description #rijksmuseum #dress #cape #Modèles de chez #Madame Bréant-Castel #Commission Générale

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flowerandblood · 1 year ago

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The Man with the Lost Soul

[ Amor • Aemond x Psyche • female ]

[ warnings: virgnity loss, smut, angst, violence, mention of the suicide, murder attempt, trauma, mourning ]

[ description: After she is attacked in a fair by a strange man and narrowly avoids death, her father the king decides that from now on she will be watched over by one of his ‘ghosts’, a assassin acting on his orders, wearing a black mask. The man follows her like a shadow, accompanied by their past, which keeps her awake at night. Gothic horror love story, angst, sexual tension, very dark Aemond. ]

This story is several requests combined into one: sworn protector x female; Amor x Psyche; Phantom of the Opera! Aemond x female. I took the liberty of creating a completely new story from this, having only elements of each of these requests.

Series & Characters Moodboard Lady Walford Moodboard Gothic & Horror Sensual Moodboard

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

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She remembered little of her father's speech, focusing only on the fact that she had a fever and on her little brother's body, cuddled into her, shaking with sobs. She wore a matte, black suede gown with open shoulders, its sleeves reaching all the way to the ground.

She wore no adornments, her hair loose, falling freely down her back. She felt his presence a few paces behind her, separating her from the rest of those gathered, the lords and ladies of the court immersed in disbelief, weepeing loudly in despair as if her mother's fate would ever concern them.

They all knew that her father had kept her locked up for years.

She looked at her King and though she could see his lips moving, tears on his cheeks, but she could not hear or feel anything − all she could think about was what Vhagar had told her that night.

Your father the King wanted me to make it look like she took her own life.

"It was with great regret that I accepted the high priest's decision regarding the fact that a person who takes his own life cannot be buried with honours in the royal tomb. For this reason, therefore, my beloved, poor, suffering-stricken wife will be buried outside the town walls, respecting her remains and her memory, needless to say." He said in a trembling, deep, hoarse voice, as if he really suffered at the thought.

She felt something surge through her heart, a tightness and pain from which she parted her lips in trembling breaths, a single, lonely tear running down her cheek.

When it was all over, her servants braided her hair and put a black, translucent veil over her face. She felt suddenly that she was partially covered from the world, that she was surrounded by the darkness she felt in her heart.

She wondered if this was what Vhagar felt while hiding behind his mask.

She followed her father and brother in a small procession behind a closed coffin covered by a shroud, a monk in front of them singing a slow, mournful chant that echoed in her mind.

She stared at the back of her king-father and thought only of the fact that he had killed her mother and deprived her of an honourable burial, without even waiting for the mighty of the Kingdom or her own family to arrive to bid her a proper farewell.

She watched as the coffin containing her body was lowered into a deep grave dug outside the city walls, heard the sobs of the mourners, but she herself shed no more tears. She looked to the side − behind her father stood his guards, his ghosts, but her ghost, her Vhagar stood by her side, a few steps behind her.

She felt his presence, the presence of death with her whole being.

When it was all over her father pulled her out of her musings by approaching her, pale, wiping his face with his palm, as if he himself could not believe that all this was really happening.

"I know you blame me for this and you have every right to. By separating you, I drove her to the brink of despair, she obviously felt she no longer had a reason to live." He muttered in a trembling voice, not looking at her but somewhere to the side, far away.

She looked at him through the thin material of the veil, feeling only her breathing and the beating of her heart, besides having the impression that she was surrounded by nothing but emptiness.

"I do not blame you, my King. You have done everything in your power. She was mad with despair. You could not help her." She said softly, calmly, her words like pleasant music to his ears. He grunted and cheered up, walking up to her, grasping her face in his hands, placing a long, drawn-out kiss on her forehead.

"My beloved child." He said warmly − she felt a squeeze in her heart and forced herself to smile.

As soon as he passed her the corners of her mouth sank down, her gaze focused on the spot where she saw fresh earth and a small stone monument, all surrounded by flowers.

"My Princess."

She heard his voice and shuddered, only now noticing that there was no one around them anymore, they were completely alone.

"It's time to go back."

She shook her head as she walked closer, placing a hand on the cold tombstone − she had the feeling that everything around her was blurry and foggy, her heart and throat squeezed.

"No. I won't leave her alone this time." She whispered, feeling like just laying down next to her, growing into the ground, being covered in flowers and grass, falling asleep next to her.

"She's free now."

She pressed her lips together, feeling a squeeze in her throat at his words, her nostrils quivering in an anxious breath. She glanced over her shoulder at him, looking at his tear-streaked mask, and thought that they were the same now.

She approached him with the quiet rustling of her gown, the hum of the grass and the singing of birds all around them, their robes blowing in the wind.

She stood in front of him and looked at him, at the man who had betrayed her, at the man who had killed her mother, at the man who had taken away her chance to decide her own life and death.

Every time she thought about it she had to remind herself that it was her father who made him follow her, it was her father who made him report on everything she did, it was her father who ordered him to kill her mother and it was her father who made her want to end her life.

He was just a tool, a blade held by someone else.

She placed her hand on his chest, rose on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his mask where a tear had been outlined − despite the material that separated her lips from it, she felt the cold, unpleasant, tart taste of steel.

She heard him swallow loudly, his bright iris looking straight at her in surprise, his pupil dilated wide, his eye almost completely black.

"This is my expression of gratitude for your dedication to the affairs of our family." She whispered with feigned fondness, running her hand over the spot where his cheek would have been, the steel beneath her skin uncomfortably cold and slightly wet due to the moisture it had gathered from the air around them.

She passed him without a word, heading towards the gate. As she walked along the roads of the city, the people living in the townhouses threw field flowers under her feet, called out her mother's name, expressed their love for their Queen.

She trampled their wishes, their gifts, their words with each step, looking ahead, lifting her gaze to the great fortress standing on the hill before her in the distance − it seemed to her now completely black, its towers partially veiled by grey clouds.

A great black coffin, she thought.

She was as dead as her mother.

As she stepped into her chamber she ordered loudly that she wished to take a bath. Vhagar stood at her door watching as her servants filled the tub they had brought moments earlier with warm water, one of them helping her undo the ties of her gown.

"Your Grace…is he…" The girl asked uncertainly, looking at the hooded figure standing on the other side of her chamber.

"Let him look." She said dispassionately, feeling no shame or embarrassment as she was left in just a thin white chemise − her maid swallowed loudly and nodded, curl by curl loosening her hair.

She stepped into the tub and sighed quietly, resting her head against its edge, closing her eyes, saying softly that they could leave.

She heard quiet footsteps, the sound of a door opening and closing, and then there was complete silence.

She lifted her eyelids and saw that he was standing in the same place as before, right at her door, straight, with his arms folded in front of him, looking at her unashamedly, her naked body peeking through from under her wet undershirt.

"Do you draw satisfaction from this sight?" She asked teasingly, twisting in place with a quiet splash of water, its pleasant warmth relaxing her tense muscles, finally no longer shivering from the cold.

He stared at her in silence, his pupil fixed on her face.

"Do not do anything thoughtless under the influence of emotion." He said dryly, his eye wide open, his chest rising slightly with each breath he took. She furrowed her brow at his words, feeling a tightness in her throat.

"I don't understand what you mean, Vhagar." She said coolly and he chuckled under his breath, however it was a laugh from which a cold chill went through her despite the warmth of the water.

"Your father wants to believe your words, which is why he does not yet see what lurks in your gaze. But when he finally notices it, it is not me he will send to you. I will not protect you from what will happen, and your greatest nightmare will come true." He said with a cold tone filled with some kind of superiority and opened the door from her chamber, disappearing behind it with a quiet clatter.

She pressed her lips together at his words, drew in a breath and slid backwards, sinking her entire head under the water − the voices in her head silenced, only an all-consuming hum around her.

She lasted like this for a moment before she felt a tightening in her mouth, her body craving another breath against her will, demanding to live. She rose to the surface, drawing in air loudly, wiping her face of the water droplets with her hands, sighing heavily.

She closed her eyes, thinking of what her mother had said, what she had spoken about since they had lived in this fortress.

The passage in her chamber and the cry of the child.

She opened her eyelids, feeling the sudden, rapid pounding of her heart.

Has Prince Aemond's body been found at last?

She stepped quickly out of the bath with a loud splash of water, quickly putting on a black, matte robe, tying it around her waist, opening the door of her chamber and stepping out into the corridor.

Although her body was shivering from the cold, she had the feeling that her heart was on fire.

She felt his surprise, his quick steps behind her, trying to catch up with her. She ran into her mother's old royal chamber, and as he entered behind her she looked at him with furrowed brows.

"No, Vhagar. Wait outside. It is time for me and my mother." She said coolly. She felt him hesitate, stand still for a moment − he turn his head, impatient, and walked out, closing the door behind him with a loud slam.

She looked around the room, running quickly to the walls, touching them with her hands, trying to discover some roughness or unevenness, something that would tell her there was a hidden door behind them.

She pressed her lips together and ran her hand over her face in impatience, unable to find anything, wondering where the child could be hiding.

She circled the room with her fingers pressed to her lips, feeling her heart pounding like mad.

His face was cut open, he couldn't survive it.

At the time of the attack he was not in his room but in his mother's chamber − her father's soldiers said they attacked him first − his mother threw herself at them to protect him, and then the Prince suddenly disappeared and was not found.

The entire chamber was searched, at first believing her mother that he could indeed have been hiding there, however nothing was found and it was decided that it was a figment of her imagination, the result of her remorse, and that the boy had taken advantage of the inattention of the men when they were wrestling with his mother and had fled.

She looked to the side and froze, licking her lower lip, feeling the cold sweat on her back as she looked at her mother's large bed.

Where did children hide when they were most frightened?

She walked over there slowly and crouched down, peering in from underneath, seeing only the dusty wooden floor. She swallowed loudly and pulled herself in deeper, feeling her body quiver at the thought that maybe she was now in his place, imagining all that must have been going on around him, that he had very little time.

She began to press the various pieces of wood one by one, hoping something would happen, however nothing did. She sighed heavily as she pressed her forehead to the floor, resigned, thinking it was pointless and suddenly she felt something under her hands.

It seemed to her at first that it was simply a piece of wood that had chipped away over the years, but it had a semi-circular shape, and was so small that only her little finger could fit in there.

She tried to lever it up and lift it, but nothing happened. It wasn't until she slipped her finger in deeper that she felt she had pressed on something cold and made of steel, and when she pushed it hard and let go she heard a quiet click − the piece of floor lifted slightly, as if the hinges holding it in place had loosened.

She lifted the flap higher, breathing loudly, feeling the chill emanating from the black stone hole, with a small staircase that a very petite woman or child could fit into.

She clenched her eyes shut, feeling tears of regret and horror running down her cheeks, panicked at the realisation that her mother was not mad, that she had died for nothing.

Was his body there or had he managed to escape?

Where did this passage lead?

She began to crawl down inside with difficulty, seeing only complete darkness in front of her, and then she heard a slam and loud footsteps, someone's large hand grabbed her ankle and aggressively pulled her backwards.

She screamed, terrified, clenching her hands on the wood, her willowy legs trying to kick him but to no avail − after a moment he forcibly dragged her out from under the bed and turned her onto her back, his eye wide open, staring at her in disbelief, she could hear his loud breathing.

He seemed to hesitate.

"What have you done?" He asked in a trembling voice, his hands held her shoulders pressed to the floor so that she could not move, her breathing laboured, looking at him in horror.

"I have discovered a secret passage." She muttered, feeling that she was trembling all over. "My mother said she heard a child crying inside her chamber. I think she heard Prince Aemond."

He was silent for a long time, breathing loudly − she heard him swallow with difficulty and clench his eyes shut, and when he opened them his gaze was different, frantic, dangerous.

"I told you not to do anything thoughtless." He said tiredly and resignedly, coldly, in a way that made her feel a shiver run down her spine.

His hands moved from her wrists to her neck, clamping down on it, instantly cutting off the oxygen supply to her lungs. In an involuntary reflex, she grabbed his wrists, her eyebrows arching in horror and pain, her body beginning to wince in despair.

"You're making me do this." He muttered under his breath apparently trying to drown out the sound of her choking, her mouth desperately trying to catch her breath.

He leaned in suddenly, the cold steel mask pressed against her forehead, a desperate growl of grief and rage escaped his lips, his hands let go of her, her lungs drew in a quick, deep breath.

She tightened her hands on his shoulders, trying to keep him away, but he lay on top of her, pressing her to the floor − she shuddered, a quiet gasp escaping her lips when she felt something hard throbbing between her thighs.

"You are my curse. My ruin." He breathed out; she felt his hips move back and forth, rubbing against her, her body went breathless all over − she felt something pulsate deep inside her, some kind of tickle in her lower abdomen from which she sighed quietly, her heart pounding like mad. "My doom."

He exhaled heavily − she could feel his hot breath gushing into her face through the holes in his mask, his hands from her neck slid down to her thighs, slipping under her thin robe. She shuddered as she felt his leather-gloved fingers tighten on the bare skin of her plump buttocks.

They both let out a loud, ripped breath, her hands slid lower from his chest, pressing his hips closer to her body, the spot between her thighs throbbed hard − she felt some kind of need inside her, for some reason despite her terror she didn't want him to stop.

She wanted him to take everything from her, she wanted him to strip her of her dignity, to punish her for allowing all this to happen.

"− destroy me − leave me with nothing −" She whispered softly; she heard him groan low at her words clenching his eyes, his hands slid down her thighs to the material of his coat − she saw him unbuckle his belt, her fingers helped him untie the bindings of his breeches.

"− fuck − fuck −" He mumbled, both of them breathing loudly in what felt like excitement and desperation, she tightened her hands on his back and whimpered when she felt something begin to push against her flesh between her thighs, trying to force itself inside her.

"− let me inside − don't fight me −" He breathed out, trying to forcibly slide deeper into her − she clenched her eyes shut and cried out, spreading her thighs wide in an attempt to ease the immense discomfort and excruciating pain she felt, one of his hands placed next to her head, the other firmly holding her hip.

He rooted into her with one brutal thrust of his hips and she whined loudly − despite his mask she could see that he was looking at her with a misty gaze, his body in what felt like a natural reflex began to move inside her, his manhood rubbing her again and again at a spot that sent shivers through her.

She panted and sobbed beneath him, feeling with every movement he made that one more thrust from him and he would tear her apart − he was too big, her muscles clenching against him in terror.

She heard his growl of pleasure each time he sank deep into her body again, instead of slowing down he accelerated, his movements beginning to be followed by the quiet click of her moisture.

"− g-gods, forgive me −" She mumbled out panting along with him, feeling with horror that the faster he slammed into her the more pleasurable it became, the tickling between her thighs became unbearable.

They both sighed with pleasure as her hips began to respond to his movements, his length rooting into her with increasing ease, sticky with her moisture − she felt as if her body had adapted to his size.

"− good gods, you are fucking enjoying this −" He scoffed teasingly, the thrusts of his hips sinking him deep inside her again and again. She felt with embarrassment her own wetness running down her buttocks − she tensed so that with each push he rubbed that wonderful spot from which shivers of pleasure ran through her.

It was so wonderful to be so full when she felt so empty, it was so wonderful to shudder with emotion when she thought she would never feel anything again in her life.

"− Vhagar −" She mewled beneath him, her heavy breathing making the moisture condense as vapour on his mask − he groaned low, both of them panting loudly, apparently taking surprising pleasure in this primitive, animal slapping of flesh against flesh.

"− no − not like that − you know my name −" He hissed out, she felt him twitching hard inside her as if the thought of her knowing his identity aroused him even more − she felt her heart pounding like mad, her lips parted wide, her hands slipped under his breeches and tightened on his buttocks.

She knew him.

Gods, she knew him.

"− I − I don't know −" She mumbled between his aggressive, sure thrusts, from which she felt stupefied, felt unbearable tension and heat in her lower abdomen − she had a feeling that a few more of his stabs and something would happen.

"− come on, you can do it − say my name − say my fucking name −" He growled, slamming into her with loud, low groans of pleasure, she could feel him throbbing hard inside her, her walls clenching down on him greedily, sucking him inside.

She shook her head, unable to give him an answer, her mind completely frazzled with pleasure, only whimpers and sobs coming from her mouth, her hips responding involuntarily to his every push, feeling the wonderful tickling between her thighs, in her fingertips, in her lips.

"− I − p-please, oooh, gods, yes, yes, yes −" She cried out loudly tilting her head back, feeling the unfamiliar, overpowering hot pleasure shake her body, her insides began to throb like crazy.

She heard him growl low feeling it, rooting into her with a few more desperate, sloppy thrusts before she felt something warm spill inside her, a loud sigh of relief escaping his lips.

His seed.

She looked sideways at the closed door to the chamber, hearing only their loud, raspy breaths, her body convulsing, her mouth parted wide in disbelief.

What had she done?

They both pulled away from each other − she hissed in discomfort as he slid out of her and rose slowly, quickly tying his breeches. They were both breathing loudly, terrified of what they had done, of what had happened.

She moved away from him, looking at him in disbelief, wondering if he was going to try to strangle her again.

Why did her discovery frighten him so much?

Who was this man?

It seemed to her that he could read the doubt written on her face − he stood up and sighed heavily, buckling the belt of his coat.

"If your father finds out we missed this, he'll kill us all." He said lowly, and she felt some kind of relief that he had done it purely out of fear.

She swallowed loudly, looking at him distrustfully, catching herself with shame that she could still feel him deep inside her, her walls sore from his aggressive, greedy thrusts.

"If you wish, I will inform him of what you have discovered in your presence." He said finally and she turned her face away, feeling the rapid pounding of her heart.

Did she want her father to find out?

If Prince Aemond was still alive, he could return and take the throne for himself.

He could have done what she had secretly dreamed of since she saw her mother's coffin disappear into the black depths.

He could kill the King.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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avastrasposts · 11 months ago

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A Baker's Dozen - Eight

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hello!

Pedro boy number eight is ready to swagger into the bakery and I've only got four more weeks of this! I realised the very final chapter would be posted on February 12th so lets delay it by two days and end this on Valentine's Day, seeing as this is the fluffiest, most romantic thing I've ever written. Feels very appropriate to end it with my favourite Pedro boy on Valentine's Day. 🥰

This chapter is dedicated to my lovely, sweet friend @ladybess-a03 who, in my world, is this Pedro boy's beautiful wife.

Series Master List

“Is the rodeo in town?” the kid who works extra over the weekends in the bakery asks, raising their eyebrows and nodding towards the window. You look over and catch a glimpse of the man striding across the street. The comment is pretty accurate, he certainly looks like a cowboy; a slick cowboy dressed up for the city in a well tailored suit that hugs his narrow hips and wide shoulders, topped off with a black Stetson and suede shoulder patches.

“Pretty good looking cowboy,” you say and the kid snorts, hanging their apron on the hook and giving you a quick wave goodbye. The cowboy reaches the bakery door and holds open the door for them before he steps inside.

“Afternoon, miss,” he says, greeting you with a polite tip of his Stetson, two fingers on the brim, as he saunters up to the counter, his lips quirking up in a smile.

“Afternoon, sir,” you reply, returning his polite greeting with a smile of your own. Internally you’re swooning and giggling, there’s a smoothness to the man that makes you want to twirl your imaginary braid and kick your heels.

“Sir,” he says, chuckling as he puts one hand on the counter, the other on his hip, pushing back his jacket and revealing a large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask, “makes me feel about a hundred, darlin’. Call me Jack.” He offers you his hand, dwarfing your own as you shake it.

“Alright, how can I help you, Jack?” you ask as the warmth of his hand lingers on yours.

“Pie, sugar, I’m in a real mood for some pie,” he says, patting his belly with a grin, “And I heard you might be the best baker in town so I had to see for myself,” he winks, “if the rumors are true.”

“I don’t know about best baker in town,” you smile back, “but thanks for the vote of confidence. What kind of pie are you in the mood for?”

“Well, I’m an old fashioned cowboy, southern born and bred, so I doubt you’ll be surprised when you hear that I’d love some pecan pie, sugar,” he says, pointing to the one pecan pie you have in your display.

“Not old fashioned,” you say, crouching down to slide the pie out, “but maybe traditional. And it’s a great pie,” you put it on the counter and Jack chuckles.

“Honey, I’m anything but traditional, but I have a soft spot for pecan pie,” he says, putting an arm up on the display case and leaning in, his mouth pulling up in a crooked grin, “Sweet pecan pie, and sweet bakers,” he winks at you again and you feel your cheeks heat up and busy yourself adjusting the pie on the counter, trying to bite back the grin that’s threatening to split your face in half before you look up at the smiling cowboy again, his dark eyes twinkling under the brim of his Stetson.

“Would you like the whole thing, or just a slice?” you ask and Jack grins.

“Oh, sugar, I want the whole damn thing,” he replies and you swallow loudly. He keeps his eyes on you as you squirm under his gaze, your cheeks burning up as you quickly duck under the counter and grab one of the take away boxes. You’ve never met a man who so shamelessly flirts with anyone and you hear him chuckle as you look for the right sized box.

Jack is still smiling as you pop back up and start folding the flat cardboard, butterflies fluttering in your stomach under his gaze.

“This pie sure smells wonderful, darlin’,” he says, leaning in closer and drawing a deep breath, his arm still on the display case as he puts a hand on his waist, but he’s got his eyes on you, the corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile under his neat mustache.

“I hope it’ll taste as good as it smells then,” you reply, just to reply something. His over the top charm shouldn’t be getting to you so easily, but you’re practically a puddle at this point, any coherent sentence from you is a win and Jack seems to notice your reaction to his flirting and clearly loves how he’s getting to you, judging by the size of his grin.

“I’m absolutely certain it will be every bit as sweet as you, sugar,” he purrs, his hand coming up to rub over his smooth jaw.

You manage to slide the pie into the box and close the lid, pushing it over the counter to Jack, giving him a flustered smile.

“Here you go then, enjoy,” you say, “Please let me know what you think, if you’re passing by again.”

“And what do I owe you, honey?” he asks, reaching back and pulling out a slim black wallet from his pocket.

“Uh…umm…” you stutter, the prices, that are usually seared into your brain, have wandered off under the onslaught of Jack’s charm and you fumble for the price list next to the till, “Twenty-four, ninety-nine,” you finally get out and Jack pulls out two twenties and hands them over.

“Keep the change, sugar, you’re undercharging for both the pie and the company,” he says, grinning as he winks at you again.

“Oh thank you, sir-Jack,” you reply, “but that’s really not necessary.”

“I know, but I want to,” he smiles, softer this time, “And I’ll be sure to let you know how much I like it,” He slides a hand under the box, carefully lifting it up as he tips his hat at you, two fingers on the brim again.

“Have a good evening, darlin’,”

“Same to you Jack, enjoy the pie.”

“Oh, I will, I’m sure,” Jack grins, pushing the door open, letting a new customer in.

“Ma’am,” he says, giving her a tip of his hat before he disappears with a final smile at you.

“What a handsome man,” Mrs Morales says as she comes up to the counter, “and such good manners.”

“He was very well mannered,” you smile at her as she comes up to the counter, “What can I get for you today, Mrs Morales?”

…

When the doorbell jingles in the middle of the morning a few days later, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Jack’s smiling face above the small crowd of customers. He gives you a two fingered salute, tipping his hat, before he sits down at one of the café tables to wait. The crowd slowly thins out and eventually it’s Jack’s turn, and you notice that he’s choosing to wait until he can be served by you and not your shop assistant.

“Hi Jack,” you smile at him as he comes over. He’s opted for a more casual look today you notice, a black leather jacket and white t-shirt instead of his slick suit, but the Stetson is still on his head as he gives you a crooked grin.

“Hi there, sugar,” he drawls, his southern twang even more pronounced, “you’re looking real gorgeous today, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He winks as he leans on the counter, giving you his most winning smile and you can practically hear the eye roll from your assistant down by the till.

“Thanks, you’re not looking to shabby yourself,” you smile back at him and he puffs his chest, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“How was the pecan pie?” you ask and Jack grins widely.

“Just as sweet as the gorgeous baker girl who made it,” he croons, “I may have eaten the whole thing already.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” you smile, your cheeks heating up at his praise and Jack chuckles, taking off his Stetson and fanning you with it.

“Is it hot in here, darlin’, or is my praise heating you up there?”

“Oh shut up,” you reply, trying to give him a scowl but failing as he runs his free hand through his dark hair, smoothing out the unruly locks that have been hidden under his hat, before he puts it back on. The simple action shouldn’t make a shiver run down your spine but you feel your mind go temporarily blank as he adjusts the brim to his liking. As he cocks his head and gives you a playful smirk, the corner of his lip curling up, you try to snap out of it.

“So what can I do for you today, Jack?”

“How about another pecan pie, darlin’?” he asks, glancing over the display cases and spotting the one you made this morning.

“Another one?”

“What can I say, your pie is calling my name, sugar,” he grins and winks at you, hooking his thumb into the pocket of his tight jeans.

“I’ll make sure to keep making it for you then, Jack,” you giggle and slide the fresh pecan pie from the shelf and into a carton.

“I’ll be a steady customer for sure,” he says and reaches back for his wallet, handing you his card with a smile, “no other bakery has better pecan pie.” You fight the grin on your face as you charge his card and go to hand it back to him, but he gently takes your hand instead, pulling you closer to him over the counter, “And the most gorgeous baker to make them,” he whispers, his low voice rich and warm as you feel his warm breath slip over your cheek.

He gives you a wink and lets go of your hand, stepping back from the counter and letting the next customer step forward as he tips his hat to you.

“What a charmer,” Mrs Levinson says, pulling your attention away from Jack as she puts her handbag on the counter. “But I always preferred a man in a suit, and a bit less forward if I may say so.” She wrinkles her nose at you, dismissing Jack as you try to stifle a giggle.

“I think he was just the right amount of forward, Mrs Levinson,” you reply with a smile, “Would you like your usual order today?”

“Yes please, dear. But add one of those Lemon Meringue Pies please. I’m going over to Mrs York’s place later,” she adds the last part with a sigh. “So sad, her son and his wife have just split up, they have two such beautiful daughters.”

“Didn’t they divorce last spring, Mrs Levinson?”

“Yes, at Easter, but he’s still single and she’s found some new man,” Mrs Levinson shakes her head as you place the pie next to her usual bread order, “he’s such a handsome boy, always wears a suit too, he’d be a real catch for you, my dear.”

“I’ve got plenty on my plate already, Mrs Levinson,” you smile, thinking of Jack’s flirting and tight jeans, “I just don’t have time for any more right now.”

“You have to let yourself have some fun too, can’t be all work,” the old lady scolds you mildly as you hand her the change and she puts everything away. “I’ll tell Mrs York to send him here for some time soon, I’m sure you’d like him.” She gives you a cheeky wink and waves goodbye, letting the next customer in line step up.

The next time Jack comes by the bakery, he’s back in his sharp suit, and tips his Stetson at you with a wink as he comes up to the counter.

“Seeing as I was found lacking last time, I thought it best to suit up,” he chuckles and you can’t help but roll your eyes as you laugh.

“Mrs Levinson has a sharp eye for handsome men, but might be a little bit old fashioned,” you reply, “But I do like your suit, it’s very ‘you’, Jack.”

“Thank you, sugar, I do like to dress the part for work,” he straightens his impeccable hat again.

“So what brings you back here, Jack? You can’t possibly have eaten two whole pecan pies in just a few days?”

“I certainly could’ve,” he chuckles, patting down the front of his suit jacket, “but I was kind enough to share it with my colleagues and told them you have the best pie in town, and I think you might be getting more customers soon.”

“That’s very nice of you, and thanks for the recommendation”, you smile, but Jack shakes his head.

“Only telling the truth, sugar,” he winks, “and I’ve promised them to bring another pie tomorrow so could I trouble you?”

“Of course, I’ve been making extra just for you, Jack” you smile and Jack’s face lights up, a wide grin making a dimple appear in his cheek as he rubs a hand over his neat mustache.

“Honey, you’re spoiling me rotten, how can I ever repay you?”

“Well, I’d say twenty-four, ninety-nine, but this one’s on the house,” you scoot the box with the pie over the counter towards Jack who’s furiously shaking his head.

“You know I can’t accept that, sugar. You’re already undercharging as it is,” he says, pulling out his wallet from inside his suit jacket as you raise your hand to stop him.

“Jack, if you pull out that wallet any further I’ll have to ban you from the bakery, it’s on the house.”

Jack’s eyes go wide, “You wouldn’t?” he exclaims with mock horror as you nod emphatically.

“Oh I would, Jack,” you grin, pointing to the door, “Now take your pie and leave that wallet in your pocket.”

Jack shakes his head as he picks up the pie box, “I’ll pay you somehow, sugar, but thank you very much for the pie.”

“You’re very welcome, Jack,” you smile at him as he carefully brings two fingers to the brim of his Stetson and gives you a nod.

“‘Till next time, darlin’.”

You do sell a couple of more pecan pies over the next few days and you wonder if your new customers are Jack’s colleagues as you add extra pecans to your online grocery order. Thanks to Jack you’ve gone through your stores of pecans in record time, and as you tap your pen on your notebook you toy with the idea of making variations of it for Jack to try. The jingle of the bell above the bakery door pulls you out of your thoughts and you look up. Your heart skips a little beat when you recognise the black Stetson.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Jack calls to you as he spots you in the kitchen, “I’m not too late am I?”

“Not at all, I’m closing in about five minutes, I’m just ordering next week’s groceries,” you wave him in behind the counter and he comes to the door into your kitchen, putting an arm up over his head as he leans on the frame.

“More pecans?” he winks and you laugh.

“How did you know? I’m running low on them, someone keeps buying all my pies.”

“A few of my colleagues said they’ve stopped by and bought a couple of pies,” he says as you try to discreetly glance at his tall frame as he leans against the door post. He’s back in his white t-shirt and black leather jacket this evening, and the way the shirt rides up over the edge of his tight jeans as he stretches his arm, a sliver of tanned skin peeking out, has your mind going blank.

“Oh, y-yeah,” you stutter as your brain slowly comes back online, “A very nice woman with short black hair and glasses came in and bought one, but it was busy and I didn’t get a chance to ask if she worked with you.”

“Ginger,” Jack smiles, “she’s the one who asked me where I got it. Tried telling her I made it myself but, funnily, she didn’t buy it,” he chuckles and comes into the kitchen, leaning over your shoulder to look down at your notes, “What are you working on there, sugar?”

“I was thinking of making some variations of the pie,” you say, “maybe one with a hint of lemon, or a bourbon chocolate one?”

“Now you’re talking my kind of language, sugar,” Jack grins, tapping the ridiculously large belt buckle in the shape of a hip flask that sits on his belt.

“Don’t tell me you actually have bourbon in that?” you ask, your eyebrows shooting up and Jack nods and grins.

“Of course, sugar! Never know when I might need a shot,” he laughs, unclipping the hip flask from his belt and flipping open the top, holding out for you to smell. The rich, warm aroma of the bourbon wafts up and you inhale deeply. “That smells so good, Jack, it’s giving me ideas!”

“What kinds of ideas, sugar?” Jack drawls, winking at you as he leans on your workbench, his eyes suddenly level with yours, all chocolate brown and warm. Your cheeks heat up as he takes a swig from the hip flask, his eyes never leaving yours, and then offers it to you.

“Baking ideas,” you force out, almost jumping out of your skin as his fingers slip over your hand when you take the flask from him. The warm whiskey goes down smooth and warm, heating you up from the inside as it lands in your belly, and your eyes come back to Jack’s. He’s looking at you with a smile, one corner of his mouth pulled up as he takes the flask back from you.

“Are you making me a new pecan pie straight away, honey? Because I absolutely have room for dessert…” he trails off with a quirk of his eye brows. You bite down on your lip to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot, little hot sparks are erupting in your stomach and they have nothing to do with the bourbon. Jack runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of his lip, catching an errant drop of whiskey and you follow the movement with your eyes, his plush bottom lip disappearing for a moment as he sucks it in, wetting it.

“Cream!” you blurt out.

Jack raises his eyebrows questioningly, “Cream?” The tone of his voice has dropped about an octave and there’s no mistaking the suggestion in his voice.

“No! Yes! I-I mean, whipped cream, with bourbon, for the pie,” you flounder, pointing to Jack’s hip flask as his smile widens.

“That sounds like the most perfect addition to your pie, sugar. Right now?”

“Yeah, if I can use a few tablespoons of your whiskey?”

“You can have whatever you want, darlin’,” Jack replies, unclipping the bottle again and handing it to you.

“Grab the pie from the display case,” you tell him as you open the fridge to pull out the whipping cream. You hear Jack go back to the front and bring the pie back to the workbench, as you pull out a hand mixer and a bowl, he shrugs out of his leather jacket and hangs it on the back of your chair before he comes back to the table. The white t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders as he leans on the workbench next to you.

“So I finally get to see you in action,” he says as you measure out two tablespoons of whiskey from his flask before handing it back to him.

“For about the two minutes it’s going to take to make this,” you smile and start the hand mixer. Jack grabs the bowl and holds it steady while you slowly start whipping the cream, adding powdered sugar as you go along with the whiskey. Soon the cream has transformed to pillowy clouds and you stop the mixer. You can smell the bourbon and so can Jack, he leans forward and inhales deeply.

“This smells gorgeous, sugar, just the thing for the pie I think.”

You giggle as he stands up again, a small dollop of cream clinging to the tip of his nose.

“You’ve got some cream on your nose there, Jack,” you smile and Jack laughs, going cross eyed as he tries to spot it. With a swipe of his finger he catches the dollop and puts his finger in his mouth.

“Mmm…delicious,” he says, grinning around his finger as you smile back at him, grabbing a couple of plates and a knife for cutting.

“Should be even better with the pie,” you say, giving Jack a generous slice and then cutting another one for yourself before spooning the bourbon infused cream next to both slices.

Jumping up on the workbench, you grab your plate as Jack takes a step closer, picking up his own piece. You swipe your finger through the cream on your plate, wanting to taste it without the pie first. But Jack beats you to it, his hand comes out and grabs your wrist, his calloused fingers closing gently around your soft skin as he pulls your hand to his lips. The wet heat of his mouth envelops your finger as he sucks it in, his tongue brushing over your digit, and you gasp.

The sensation of his tongue running along your finger shoots electricity through your body and you exhale sharply, your eyes locked on Jack’s mouth as he studies your reaction. As your eyes come back up to his he lets your finger slip from between his lips, leaning forward and capturing your chin with his hand. He pauses for a second, waiting for your permission, and as you lean into him, he presses a soft kiss to your mouth. A low groan slips from him and the taste of bourbon and cream fills your mouth as he tenderly dips his tongue in between your lips. Your hand comes up to his shoulder to brace yourself, his hot mouth on yours making your pulse rase. You lean into him, needing to taste more of his mouth and his arm comes around your waist, pulling you close.

“You taste even better than the pie, sugar,” Jack mumbles against your mouth, cupping your cheek with his large hand as you chase his lips.

“You too, Jack,” you moan, letting him angle your face so that he can deepen the kiss, fervently licking into your mouth as he pulls you closer to his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist where he stands between them. His body is warm through the cotton of his t-shirt, his muscles moving under your palms as you explore the planes of his back. Jack lets his mustache tickle across your cheek, your jawline, as he slowly moves his lips with small, wet kisses, along your sensitive skin, trailing a path down your neck. His dark hair is thick and soft when you curl your fingers into the back of it, Jack tilting your head back as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his nose buried in your hair.

“So sweet, darlin’,” he mutters, his voice muffled, “smells like butter and sugar.”

“Come up here and kiss my lips again, Jack,” you protest, tugging light at his hair and he chuckles, inhaling deeply.

“Anything for you, honey,” he replies, his big hand cupping the back of your head as he drags the cool tip of his nose up your neck and jaw, bumping against yours. When you lock eyes again he’s smiling softly, all the confident cockyness gone, replaced by warmth and affection. His lips part slowly as you pull him closer, his tongue teasing yours, making you lick into his mouth.

He hums softly, his hand caressing your back, finding the divot of your spin and trailing his fingers up and down. In the quiet kitchen all you can hear are his low groans and your own gasps as each kiss traces sparks along your nerves. Jack’s fingers press into your back as heat builds between you, his hips slowly grinding in a movement so unhurried it’s as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. When his warm palms find their way up under your shirt, rough calluses stroking gently over your curves, you lean back, pulling him with you until you're flat on your back, Jack leaning down over you.

“Gorgeous…” he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck again, his hands pushing further up your shirt.

“Oh no!” he suddenly exclaims, lifting his head up from your throat and holding up his hand, covered in mushed up pecan pie.

“You’re on top of it, honey,” he laughs, helping you sit up, and you hear the plate clatter to the bench behind you. Now that you’re up, you can feel the stickiness against your back, and you twist, trying to see how much of a mess you’ve made.

“Is it all over my back?” you ask and Jack looks over your shoulder and nods.

“I’m afraid so, sugar, your shirts covered in it. Do you have something to change into?”

“No, I took everything home to wash yesterday,” you grumble, twisting your arm up behind your back and feeling the remains of the pie.

“Here,” Jack says, standing up straight and swiftly pulling his own t-shirt off, “I’ll wear just the jacket, you take my shirt.” He holds it out to you and you hesitate, temporarily mesmerized by the sudden sight of Jack’s bare chest, tan and smooth with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his jeans.

You swallow and pull your eyes up to his face again, “I can’t take your t-shirt, Jack.”

“Why not? Take it, I’ve got plenty more, and I kinda like the idea of you in my shirt,” he winks and takes a step closer again, making you grab his shirt as he bends and places a wet kiss on your lips, “And this way, I can come by your place and pick it up. Or leave another one.”

He grins as stands up again, “C’mon, sugar, take that one off and let me see you in mine.” He helps you by putting his hands back on your waist and pushing up under your ruined shirt. You peel it off gingerly, trying to avoid getting pie in your hair, and Jack’s eyes darken as you sit in front of him in just your bra.

“Want me to put it on straight away, Jack?” you tease him as you watch him take in your shape.

“No..but yeah, or we’re not leaving this bakery anytime soon, darlin’,” he chuckles, and you pull his t-shirt over your head as Jack sighs in mock disappointment. The soft cotton is still warm from his body and smells just like Jack, you have to inhale as it slips over your head. When you pop out from underneath it Jack is watching you with a small smile.

“Beautiful,” he says softly, his hand coming up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Do you want more pie, Jack?” you ask, pointing to the remaining pie and Jack’s eyebrows quirk up.

“What do you think, sugar?” he smirks and you laugh.

“I think you’ve got three empty pie forms at home and an extra hole in your belt.”

“Not yet, but soon,” he grins, patting his small belly, “C’mon, sugar, let me drive you, make sure my shirt gets to its new home safely.”

“I’ve got my own car, but thanks for the offer, Jack,” you smile at him and slip your arms around his neck again. “Come by soon, I’ll have more pie for you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it, sugar.”

Part Nine

This week's recipe comes courtesy of @goodwithcheese who shared her own Pecan Pie recipe with me! Thank you Megan!

Megan’s Pecan Pie 3 eggs ½ cup/100g sugar 1 cup/250 ml dark corn syrup 3 tablespoons melted butter 1 teaspoon vanilla ¼ teaspoon salt 2 cups/approx 250g chopped pecans Whisk together all ingredients except the pecans. Stir in the pecans and pour the mixture into an unbaked pie crust and bake for 40 minutes at 350F/175C.

@harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @thewiigers

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #jack daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfic

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moa-broke-me · 1 year ago

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PJO characters as gods:

So there was a post going around about the idea of PJO characters being treated as gods in a thousand years or so, and I like the idea, but some of the godly placements felt a little off to me LOL, so I decided to make my own pantheon. (not sure how to order these, lol)

Percy: God of the ocean and all its creatures, of water in general, hurricanes, earthquakes, cities, family, and horses. Titles: The savior of Olympus, the good son, the loyal husband, retriever of the bolt, king of the gods. Sacred items: Stuffed animals, particularly bears (panda pillow pet), any item colored blue, but especially food, like candy or cookies, bull horns, and pens. Sacred animals: All marine life, the black pegasus, the black dog, and the ophiotaurus.

Annabeth: Goddess of war, strategy, intelligence, wisdom, practical knowledge, civilization and the building of houses, the study of history, and the mind. Titles: The general, the architect, favored child of Athena, queen of the gods. Sacred items: Knives, rings, clay beads, coral, silver, and popcorn. Sacred animal: The owl.

Clarisse: Goddess of war, revenge, anger fueled by love, triage and midwifery. Titles: The eager soldier, slayer of the drakon, retriever of the golden fleece. Sacred items: Spears and weapons in general, wool/fleece, and chariots. Sacred animal: The boar. Often depicted bloodstained, charging into battle without armor.

Frank: God of war, animals, change, the transition from boyhood to manhood, of the duality between strength and gentleness. Titles: The reluctant soldier, the changeling lord, the young praetor. Sacred items: Bows and arrows, playing cards (mythomagic), charred wood, and a silver medallion on a red string (the canadian sacrifice medal) Sacred animals: The bear and the bee, both the most common depictions of him as an animal.

Reyna: Goddess of war, patriotism, fidelity, independence, leadership, strength, sorority, and resilience. Titles: The shield, the politician, guardian of Athena (bc the athena parthenos). Sacred items: Cloaks, gold, silver, and oat cakes (oatmeal cream pies). Sacred animal: The hound. Often depicted either shielding a little boy with her cloak or braiding hair with her older sister.

Hazel: Goddess of jewels, caves, broken curses, witchcraft and the mist, art, death and escape thereof. Titles: The princess of the underworld, the queen of magick, the illusionist, the dead girl who rose again. Sacred items: Schist (because... obviously), pencils and oil pastels, gold, shrimp stew (because gumbo), Tarot cards, and caramel candy. Sacred animals: The horse, the stoat, and the black cat. Often depicted either drawing or riding horseback, usually with her older brother, but sometimes alone or accompanied by her husband or one of her friends.

Nico: God of darkness and shadows, death, decay, loss, longing, love of all kinds, language, diplomacy and forgiveness, insomniacs, immigrants and orphans, mourners and outcasts, and sewing. Titles: The bereaved, king of the underworld, the ghost king, the romantic, deliverer of Athena (again, the statue, not the actual goddess). Sacred items: Playing cards (mythomagic), soft suede leather, fried bits of chicken (mcnuggets), sewing supplies, oat cakes (again, oatmeal cream pies), Posca (not the pen; the drink. it's like an ancient roman gatorade), pomegranates, anything colored green or black, and memento mori rings. Sacred animals: The bat, cerberus, unicorns (because unicorn draught), all stray animals, and any animals or insects that feed on carrion. Commonly depicted either weeping or accompanying his little sister or husband. (@yonemurishiroku you're gonna love this one)

Bianca: Minor goddess of death, darkness, rebirth and reincarnation, sisterhood, and the hunt. Titles: The broken promise, thief of the forge, slayer of Talos. Sacred items: a carved statuette of her father, and a bow and arrow. Sacred animals: None. Most often depicted climbing onto the back of Talos, or comforting/bickering with her little brother.

Will: God of medicine, light, summer, and the sun. Title: The healer, the sun. Sacred items: Candy bars, medical equipment, lamps, summer fruits, and anything colored yellow. Sacred animal: The cat.

Thalia: Goddess of lightning and storms, maidenhood, the moon, the night sky, wilderness and the hunt. Titles: Queen of the skies, the hunter, guardian of sanctuary. Sacred items: Leather, golden fleece, the severed heads of dolls (bc of the 'barbie is dead tshirt), and pine trees. Sacred animal: The black eagle. Commonly depicted dressed in black and silver, behind a shield emblazoned with a terrifying face.

Jason: God of clear skies and wind, daylight, law, leadership and fatherhood, heroic sacrifice, child soldiers and the military. Titles: Prince of the skies, the retired praetor, the golden boy. Sacred items: Eyeglasses, dense chocolate cakes (brownies), peaches, swords, silver wire (staples), bricks, and feathers. Sacred animal: The wolf. Often depicted with a spear lodged in his back.

Piper: Goddess of love, the heart, beauty in all its forms, charisma, music, wealth, and fame. Titles: Beauty queen, the snake charmer, the dove, the silver tongue. Sacred items: Knives, jewelry, anything colored in pink or light purple. Sacred animals: The dove.

Silena: Minor goddess of love, specifically first love, regret, noble sacrifice, grieving widows, and disguise. Titles: The young lover, the spy, the bleeding heart. Sacred item: Armor. Sacred animal: None. Often depicted wearing armor while lying on her back, bleeding.

Drew: Minor goddess of beauty and adolescence. Title: The betrayed. Sacred items: Seashells, seafoam, cosmetics, perfume, and really anything with a strong, pleasant scent, like herbs, flowers, or incense. Sacred animals: None. (side note, I made up most of this just because canon gave us Literally Nothing)

Leo: God of fire and the forge, machines, invention, humor, cookery, and runaway children. Titles: The engineer, the orphan, builder of the Argo, the forge, the devil, and the trickster. Sacred items: Tools, oil, cinnamon, cooking utensils, and bronze. Sacred animal: The dragon.

Charles: Minor god of the forge, blacksmithery, and fallen soldiers. Title: Courage of the gods, the young lover. Sacred items: Canned fruit, promise rings, and green fire. Sacred animals: None.

Tyson: Minor god of blacksmiths and the ocean, specifically underwater volcanoes. Titles: General of the Cyclopes, the rising mountain, brother of Percy. Sacred items: Peanuts (because peanut butter), shields, watches and clocks (because of that watch that becomes a shield that he made for Percy), ships, and canons. Sacred animals: None.

Grover: God of animals, nature, wilderness, music, empathy and emotional sensitivity, and the young. Titles; The protector, the searcher. Sacred items: Pan flutes, walking sticks (those crutches he used to blend in), flowers, cheese (bc of the enchiladas), apples, and any kind of plant life. Sacred animal: The goat. Often depicted as half-goat-half-human, sometimes wearing a wedding dress.

Rachel: Goddess of wealth, youth, rebellion, nature, art, hedonism and impulse, and prophecy. Sacred items: Hairbrushes, art, and art supplies. Sacred animal: The yellow bellied armadillo.

Sally: Goddess of the hearth, motherhood, writing and literature, women, and survivors of abuse. Titles: The sculptor, the author, the victor, the good mother, queen among women. Sacred items: food, especially the blue kind, and books. Sacred animal: The snake. Often depicted either holding a little boy behind her or holding up the head of medusa.

If there's any character you want me to do next, please tell me!

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five-rivers · 6 months ago

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New pollfic chapter! Continued from here.

Danny was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep on a table, so what was the soft thing under him…?

He peeled his eyes open to see a tasseled decorative pillow tucked under his cheek. And… also a lot of hair… Fur…? He blinked, still sleepy and not entirely awake, and sat up.

Not only had his head been given a pillow, he saw, but his wings had been nicely propped up. It was very thoughtful of them. But that didn’t explain the length of his hair. Or fur. Or whatever it was on his head and skin currently. He hadn’t had a lot of time to examine it, but it didn’t feel like hair anymore. There were layers to it.

On closer, slightly more awake, examination, it wasn’t just the fluff on his head that was longer. He was fluffier everywhere. His fur was longer, and so were his feathers. By inches in some places. Long enough that the ghosts had braided it in places. Not only that, but the amount of his skin covered by fur had increased. Before, it hadn’t passed his knees and elbows, but it did now. It was much shorter than the rest of his fur, tapering off to a suede-like finish well above his wrists and ankles, and didn’t touch his inner arms or the backs of his legs. It had spread further down his chest, tapering to his navel and spreading and thickening again at his groin, and up his neck, spilling onto the edges of his face.

When he’d thought about growing a beard or chest hair, he hadn’t meant this. He touched the fur growing near his ears. It didn’t feel at all like a beard. It was soft and feathery, like down.

Speaking of his ears. He traced up to feel them up to their tips. They were properly fluffy now.

Was this… some kind of delayed transformation effect? Or did this body just grow hair really fast?

On the plus side, it was all neatly and nicely brushed, not a feather out of place. As he’d expected, it felt much better, compared to the disarray from before.

On the more confusing side, his fur length wasn’t the only strange thing. Wherever his skin was bare of fur, it was covered in tiny, black, calligraphic symbols. He sighed. This must be another part of ‘grooming’ for this ghost, but he wished he knew what it all meant…

“Are you ready to write your name in the great book, now?”

Danny squeaked, the sound echoing throughout the large room. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed the ghost there. Maybe they’d been invisible?

He nodded and floated up off the table. He… hadn’t really had the time to process how small he currently was, either. And he was small. Toddler-sized.

The ghost seemed to be having similar thoughts, as they brushed Danny’s hair back from his face. “The great book is just here,” they said, gesturing at the largest of the books chained to the table.

Danny knelt on the table again, then opened the book. He flipped through until he reached the last page with anything written on it. Helpfully, the ghost handed him a feather quill, already inked. Briefly, Danny wondered if it was one of their feathers. It was sort of the right color and degree of fluffiness.

“I just have to write my name, right?” he asked, trying to keep his voice quiet to match the quiet murmur of the surroundings.

“Yes,” said the ghost, “it’s entirely straightforward.”

Danny bobbed his head, then put pen to paper. He signed his name the way he always did, with a few decorative curlicues. This was supposed to be important, right? So he could be a little fancy to make things nice.

Sparkles glittered at his wrist, like dust caught in a sunbeam. The sparkles gathered closer, and flared into something cold and heavy on his wrist.

“Um,” said Danny, looking at the bracelet. The bracelet that had an odd, protruding flange on the outside edge of his wrist. “What.”

“Oh, wonderful,” said the ghost, who sounded genuinely pleased. He clapped his hands together, soundlessly. “The library must think you are very valuable indeed.”

“What do you…” He trailed off as more sparkles formed near the flange. They turned into a solitary chain link. “Is this a manacle?”

“The most valuable books in the library are chained to the shelves and tables,” said the ghost happily, waving his hand to indicate the books chained to the round table. “So it is with all the most valuable parts of the collection.”

“I’m not a book,” said Danny. “I’m not part of the collection.”

“Of course you are. We all are,” said the ghost.

“What happened to bringing me back upstairs?”

“We will still do that. The library will put you back where you belong. Your guide has just finished preparing.”

Apparently hearing this exchange, a ghost who had his mane braided away from his face floated down to the floor, smiling and waving in greeting. When he reached out towards him, Danny shied away. Another chain link coalesced from light.

Could he trust that? Could he trust that they would bring him back up after this? He obviously should have trusted them on this.

The two links of chain tugged slightly towards an empty loop on the table, and Danny grabbed them in his opposite fist. No. He couldn’t trust them. But how long could the chain get before it found a random spot to fix him to? And would he be able to phase out of something that had a clear intention of preventing removal, even in human form?

He didn’t know.

#danny phantom #pollfic #poll fic #choose your own adventure #kingdom of fish

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chicinsilk · 2 months ago

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L'Art et la mode Octobre-Novembre 1956

Balenciaga Haute Couture Collection Fall/Winter 1956-57. Renée Breton wrapped in a Havana braided cape, tied on one shoulder, at the neck, with a draped effect. It is worn over a dress in the same fabric, with a very wide and high black suede belt.

Balenciaga Collection Haute Couture Automne/Hiver 1956-57. Renée Breton enroulée dans une cape en natté havane, nouée sur une épaule, au ras du cou, avec un effet drapé. Elle est portée sur une robe en même tissus, avec une très large et haute ceinture de daim noir.

Photo Georges Saad

#l'art et la mode #octobre 1956 #fashion 50s #fall/winter #automne/hiver #haute couture #balenciaga #renée breton #georges saad #vintage fashion #vintage magazine

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crystalbeetle888 · 9 months ago

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Voyage into the Unknown Pt.8

Master List Pt.7 - Pt.8 - Pt.9

The elf man leads me through lavish halls filled with fresh floral arrangements and beautiful maids fluttering frantically around, trying to organize dinner. Finally, we stop “Here is your room M’Lady” Lindir says, holding the door open for me. I thank him and enter, a large bed lays in the center of the right wall, thick embroidered canopies framing it. On the left, the wall is curved with large arching windows, overlooking the palace gardens. “I’ll send for some maids to draw you a bath” he places my bag beside the door before bowing and leaving. I wander into the room and approach the open windows, leaning on the bannister. I gaze out in wonder at the mystical place “It’s like a dream” I whisper to myself in awe.

“What’s like a dream?” I turn to see a young, beautiful woman holding a woven basket filled with fabrics and bottles. I flush at her sudden appearance “Oh, I was just thinking of how beautiful the view is” I smile awkwardly at her. “It is quite wonderful isn’t it” she smiles back, “My Lord Elrond has been the keeper of Imladris for quite some time” She walks across the room and through a door I hadn’t noticed before. I followed her “Oh yeah? How long is that?”. In the center of the room was a large claw-foot tub, to the right, a vanity sink and mirror with a cushioned stool. The lady set the basket down on the seat before turning the bath faucet on. The rushing water is loud “Well, Lord Elrond established Rivendell in the Second Age” She explained, pouring one of the bottles contents into the bath. I nod “And when was that?” “Around five thousand years ago” She says casually, turning off the tap. My jaw drops in shock “Well…he looks great for his age” The lady giggles before walking out the room towards me “Bathe, then I’ll help you dress for dinner” she says walking out of the bedroom and closing the door. I strip down and hop into the hot bath, the smell of lavender and roses fills the air. The pain in my knee and back melts away as I slip deeper into the water. I scrub my skin and hair clean before a gentle knock on the door breaks the silence “Hello?” I called out. The door cracks open and the elf maidens face peaks in “Dinner is almost ready, so we should get you dressed now”. I nod and reluctantly stand, wrapping myself in the towel she had laid out for me before hopping out. She averts her gaze “There are undergarments and a slip in the basket, once you dress in them, I’ll help you into your dinner dress”, she closes the door behind her.

Drying myself off and putting on the strange clothes, I walk back out into the main bedroom, the elf maiden holding up a beautiful deep green, suede dress. “Come here, arms up”

I do as she demands, and allow her to shimmy the dress over my head and down my body. She pinches and pulls at the fabric until she's' satisfied with my appearance. She then wraps a golden cord around my waist, and steps back to view me. I stand there awkwardly, hoping to get this over with. “Okay, sit down and I’ll do your hair”. Sighing in exhaustion I sit on the corner of the bed with my back to her. She begins to gently brush the knots out of my damp hair, the soft rocking sending me into a sleepy trance. Before long, she taps me on the shoulder “I’m all done if you’d wish to see?” I nod and take the mirror she offers me. My hair is artfully pinned back and braided into a crown, the length flowing down my back, and two long braids hanging in front of my ears. “Wow, It’s lovely, thank you” I praise her. She smiles back “Now, let’s get you to dinner or you’ll be late”

Swiftly walking through the hall, she guides me over to the open patio where the company was waiting, quite impatiently, for their food. She lets go of my arm “I hope to see more of you Miss” She bows briefly before turning and leaving. I flatten my dress nervously, ‘Here goes nothing’ I think to myself. Walking up the steps and into the open, I make my way over to the company's short table. A low whistle sounds over the chatter “Well look at you bonnie lass, Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Bofur calls out causing the company to turn and look. My face heats at the attention “Thank you Bofur” I say. He winks at me in response and I sigh.

Scanning the companies’ table I don’t see an open seat “Lady Y/N, if you’d care to join us?” Lord Elrond asks from his seat at his own table with Gandalf and Thorin. Walking over, Lindir pulls out my seat and I sit down across from Elrond, “It's good to see you’re feeling well Lady Y/N, please help yourself” He offers, directing his hand towards the platter towers of food. “Thank you” I say, pulling aside the long flowing sleeves of my dress, I scoop some of the salad onto my plate. Lindir, approaching my side with a decorative wine decanter, and offers to pour me a glass “Oh no thank you, I don’t drink” I say, voice muffled by the food stuffed in my mouth. Thorin turns to look at me skeptically “I don’t… behave well, when drinking” I smile shyly at him. He gives me raised eyebrow and a tightlipped smile, like he was trying not to.

Dinner continues without a hitch, the elves play the harp and some sort of string instrument in the background. The men converse and complain about the food as usual, getting progressively drunker, and Thorin argues with someone about who knows what. And I've stuffed myself full with salad, berries, egg and little tiny sandwiches. I huff and rub my belly soothingly, the cool breeze tickling my exposed neck and collarbone. The scenery is tranquil, and I close my eyes to relax… Then Bofur begins to sing

“There is an inn, a merry old inn, beneath an old grey hill. And there they brew a beer so brown, That the Man in the Moon himself came down, One night to drink his fill.” Bofur hops on top of a pedestal in the center of the room, singing and stomping his foot. The company chanting and banging their hands on the table in laughter.

“The ostler has a tipsy cat, that plays a five-stringed fiddle; And up and down he runs his bow, Now squeaking high, now purring low, Now sawing in the middle.” Bofur acts out the lyrics and the company hollers, throwing onions and bread at him. The elves looked around at one another in confusion and shock, and I sank into my seat in embarrassment.

“So the cat on his fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a jig that would wake the dead: He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune, While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon: 'It's after three!' he said.” I turn in my seat and look over my chair in disappointment, the company cheering loudly and throwing their salads in the air. Most disappointingly, Thorin stands with them cheering and encouraging them along. “What a disgusting waste of food.” I remark bitterly. Just as I finish my sentence a bread roll flies across the room and hits the statue on the boob, next to Lindirs' head. Swinging my head around I spot Kili with his arms up smiling triumphantly. His grin falters as our eyes meet. I shake my head in disbelief and stand to leave. Leaning over to Elrond I whisper to him apologetically “I’m so sorry for their dog crap manners, I quite enjoyed dinner thank you” I say briefly before strutting away. “Y/N wait!” Kili calls outs from behind me. I continue to walk out the room ignoring him, and the company Ooohs loudly.

Kili trips over himself, drunkenly trying to keep up with the taller woman. “Wait” He says breathlessly as he grasps onto her arm, spinning her around. “Excuse you!” she says angrily, swatting his hand off her. Kili raises his hands in defeat “I’m sorry, You were just- Where are you off to?” he huffs flustered. Despite the annoyed look on her face Kili couldn’t help but gaze at her warmly, unintentionally ignoring her ranting. The setting sun casts a golden light over her complexion. Her pointed gaze sparkles, her crossed arms adorned with that perfectly fitted dress stirs something inside him, her artfully braided hair frames her angry looking face.

‘Shit, she’s looking at me, I should say something’ 'Have I told you how bewitching you look tonight?” he smiles cheekily at her. Y/N smiles in defeat “Thank you Kili” she whispers. A blanket of silence envelops the two as they gaze at each other affectionately. Y/N coughs breaking the moment “I should get to bed, it’s been a long day” she trails off nervously, anxiety beginning to creep its' way into her mind. Kili perks up at the opportunity “I’ll walk you” he offers his arm enthusiastically which she takes. As the two walk and talk together a warm feeling begins to grow inside each of them. A feeling that excites him, but scares her.

But alas, they arrive at her room for the night “Perhaps I can accompany you tomorrow for breakfast?” he suggested, eyes hopeful. She laughs “Sure, but good luck trying to wake me up”. He chuckles in response before gazing up at her again with those deep brown puppy dog eyes. “Well I’ll see you tomorrow” She says, hesitantly taking her arm back from around him. “Yeah…” he trails off, slowly walking backwards. “Goodnight!” he calls out giddily, “Goodnight” she replies finally closing the door slowly.

I sigh against the closed door, my heart pounds against my chest. ‘That was close’ I think to myself, ‘I’m getting too close’ I breathe out shakily. Rubbing my arm anxiously, I graze over the rough skin. My mind floods with fearful thoughts. What if he’s just trying to use me? What if he tries to hurt me later on? My head swarms as I strip from my dinner dress, and crawl under the cover. Sniffling meekly as I cry myself quietly to sleep.

Meanwhile, Kili wanders back to where the company has set up camp, his head filled with hope. She looked absolutely radiant tonight, even when she was mad at him. That dress just hugged her in all the right places 'If she looks like that in an Elvish dress, I wonder how good she'd look in a Dwarvish one?' Kili thinks dreamily to himself, a smile spreading across his face. He couldn't believe how lucky he'd gotten, out of all the handsome dwarves in their company, who's beards are longer and who's muscles were bigger, she had only shown interest in him. This had never happened before, usually dwarrowdams take one look at his brother and instantly lose interest in Kili 'It's those damn moustache braids' he ponders to himself 'They're irresistible'. But much to his surprise, the strange human woman didn't care much for them. Kili wanders through the camp, the company's jokes about him flying straight over his head as he lays down on his bedroll, head already full of dreams.

Master List Pt.7 - Pt.8 - Pt.9

Authors Note: Here is your crumb of content. I will be back soon <3

#fili and kili #kili durin #kili x reader #the company of thorin oakenshield #the company x reader #the hobbit #thorin

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elsmaster · 6 months ago

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Here's a few selfies and progress pictures, because I want pictures of the full costume on my Tumblr as well!

I un-mirrored the ones taken in a mirror, because I can't deal with it looking like the earring and orb are on the wrong side. The orb is also off-centre, because I figured it might be more visible that way, but absolutely no one could see it either way, so... ehh.

I've been going back and forth between getting/making a proper hairy fake beard, and just using the makeup-stubble-skills I got to practice for years because I wore Anders so much. I went with the latter, and I'm genuinely a little surprised by how well it turned out. Not perfect by any means, but almost believable, and definitely better than my first and only make-up test back in March. All in all, my Gale makeup seems to just be my Anders makeup, with very slight alterations. I'm okay with that.

A quick (HAH. It's a novel) rundown of what the costume is made of, under the cut! If anyone wants to ask anything, I'll do my best to elaborate.

The shirt is cotton velvet (it's insanely gorgeous and soft, and the color shifts beautifully between blue and purple depending on the light) from BodikianTextiles, and I used several metres of decorative trim for the collar, hem and sleeves. I hand-stitched silver satin piping on both edges of the trim, and then stitched it all on the shirt by hand.

There's around 80 hematite beads on the bottom edge of the collar (they're absolutely not in the reference, but I've always loved how hematite looks and got fixated on the idea of just adding the beads inside the little silver twists), bordered with silver satin cord. All of that is, very surprisingly, also hand-sewn.

All the brown trim is the same leather as the belt, also hand-stitched. The leather is terrible quality, so even though I did my best to stitch gently, it tore a little in a lot of places, and the stitches turned out so wonky it's a little tragic. I didn't have enough of the leather for the hem of the shirt, so I used some faux suede cord I had and wove a four-strand braid that I then topped with silver beads. And sewed on by hand, but that's a probably a given at this point.

The trousers are a very basic cotton blend, and I mean to use them with Gale's purple robe as well, just with different chaps. These chaps are made of an insanely soft purple leather, the origin of which is a mystery to me (everyone who's touched it, including my 63-year-old mother, has made inappropriate noises at how soft it is, so make of that what you will). I got the trim from a shop in Estonia, and completely unsurprisingly sewed it on by hand. I was planning on burning the leaf pattern on the leather, but after a few tests I decided I'd rather not risk ruining everything.

The belt is my least favourite part, because it turned out a lot more dodgy than I'd like. It's entirely possible I'll remake the base of it at some point with a better quality leather. The plates are worbla, and topped with silver-leaf. They're riveted to the belt, and the wobbly beading is, yet again, sewn on by hand. The belt attaches with velcro in the back.

The earring pendant is resin printed, from a model by IllustrisModels, and topped with silver-leaf. It's simply attached to a small silver hoop.

The wig is a lace front from Wig Is Fashion that I've modified... a lot. I changed the shape of the hairline by cutting it back into a more of a rectangular shape (I have a very round face, so the standard straight lace hairlines tend to make me look like I'm exactly eight months old, which is not the intended look here), and intentionally cut the edge a lot more jagged that I usually would. I added individual gray and white hairs here and there on the lace portion, and sewed on small pieces of two tones of gray wefts at the back.

I ended up thinning the wig quite a bit at the top, because I have a massive head, and it just looked like I had a helmet on. I'll add more wefts at the back at some point, so make the ends look a little fuller. It's currently a bit mullet-y, and even though I think the gen z is into that sort of thing, I'm a millennial and would rather not have a mullet ever again, please and thank you.

That's... it? I think? I'll post proper pictures once I get them, but for now, enjoy the wall of text!

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale cosplay #bg3 cosplay #baldur's gate cosplay #cosplay #long post

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illbelieveitwhenyoudo · 1 year ago

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made it worse by looking thru me and my exes old messages to find a very specific pic of a haircut i had ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh now i want dyed hair and am upset i dont dress as interesting . i will say tho i looked cool in a mullet i dont think they suit me personality wise

like i feel fime emotionally but in this last month ive broken up with the man i was seeing for 7 months, got an actual boyfriend, started birth control, got into an insane fight with my closest friend, quit my job after my 1 yr, applied for college, listed half my wardrobe for sale and my health started tanking. i also just gave myself an insane haircut (the same haircut more or less i had like 2 yrs ago and its 11 at night also stopped wearing my septum im restkless as helll

#dyed hair doesnt suit my lifestyle of minimal maintenance #but most things look pretty okay on me other than blonde hair wise #most haircuts i can style to look cool but i hate styling my hair other than the wet sets with the least effort and braids at night #and tbf interesting doesnt mean good #its like i was wearing a 90s tee eith a 70s prairie skirt patterned #and then a oversized red suede jacker #none of the colors fit #345 #i guess its the idgaf i miss

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sanajeh1909 · 1 year ago

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The Spy and The Spouse

Pairing : Chamber x F!Reader

Word Count : 5989

Warnings : Flirting, Romantic Tension, Spying/Action (only mentions of it, there is nothing much except the detailed description of whats happening), Jealousy, Unrequited Love (at the end on Chamber's part), Emotional Themes.

POV : 3rd Person

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

A/N : Sorry for my poor English, its not my native language. Chamber can be a bit OOC. Gif doesnt belong to me. Please do tell if there is any mistakes or off talks/writings on the scenario. There is so many expressions of the situation more than talks because i have no idea what to write as conversation, i have ran out of ideas. I had hard time writing this since i burnt my wrist accidentally now its hard to type without putting my wrist on the side of the keyboard. Yellow is for Chamber, Pink is for Reader, other colors are for side characters. I hope you enjoy it.

The day of the mission comes. She wears black one shoulder long sleeve black dress with black suede wedge heels. Her glasses are same design as Chamber's, except hers was thin framed and had soft edges on rectangular shape. Her hair is braided on both sides to the back and the rest of her hair is combed to the back. This made their hairstyles match.

While she was getting ready, Chamber put on his suit, matching her outfit perfectly. Chamber had been very particular about his own attire. The suit itself was black in color, it was a modern fashion design. It was tailored to his body to look as sharp as a knife. A crisp white shirt underneath was accompanied by a black tie with little black details. His hair, per usual, was undercut slickback.

When she finished, he walked in looking sharp and composed. When he saw the finished look, he was surprised to see how well put together she looked. Almost to a T to how she looked. Almost.

He raised an eyebrow at her look and expression, as if he were about to laugh at how ridiculous he found her similar sense of fashion. Then, he just grinned devilishly. Arent we a slick couple?

He was very confident in his appearance, as he should. After all, he was going to be playing the smug, arrogant husband. She smirks at him and walks towards him confidently. Her back is straight and her chin is slightly up. We will crush them just with our presence, it seems.

He couldnt help but admire how well you took the role of the wife. His eyes traveled upwards from your heeled shoes to the matching dress to your hair to the glasses that only gave you a more charming aura. One of his hand on his pocket, he offers his other arm to her and a smug smile on his face. I couldnt have picked a better partner. We make quite a pair.

She smirks at him and takes his arm. They get in the car, Chamber holding her door for her before going to the drivers seat. With Chamber driving to the party in silence, they are preparing themselves for the mission mentally.

As they arrive, they walk to the party with their arms intertwined. The party is filled with businessmen, CEO's and their spouses in simple yet classy dresses.

The host gives them both an appraising look before looking at Chamber. That look was followed by a small nod. Well, look at this. If it isnt Mr. and Mrs. Fabron. It was an odd feeling to have someone refer to her as a married couple. It was weird to be called Mr. and Mrs. Fabron, but it had a quite weird feeling that made her wanted to be called like that.

The man gesturs towards the crowd of guests. It was a variety of different types of people. The only unifying factor was money.

The moment they stepped inside was the second that the mission and the married couple act started. They even made custom rings to play along. That costed the couple more than they expected, but it would worth if it meant for success.

Chamber walks alongside of her, enjoying how her arm fit so nicely with his. He couldnt help but look at all the men who kept glancing up at her admiringly as they walk. He couldnt blame them. Even before he was a "married man", she looked good enough to make heads turn. All she had to do was show up.

He smiles at her side. He is still the charming bastard for the night. He whispers in her ear. This is going to be fun.

She smirks at his words and whispers back. Show has just begun, darling. Just watch and see.

He chuckled a little, liking this side of her. In the middle of his mission, he was finding himself to enjoy just being beside her. Being in this role of a married couple was different, it felt more... wholesome. It was... nice.

He gives her a little squeeze of her hand. He looks around, analyzing the crowd, looking for certain people. Alright. Just follow my lead, alright?

She nods. After all, he was more experienced than her in this type of situations, so the both had agreed to follow his lead. They have praticed and spend more time to get used to each other, but now they needed to put them all on the act.

Chamber turns his head to face you. He straightens his suit, making sure everything was clean before facing the guests. She was starting to get some glances. Some from men, and some from women. Of course, everyone thought she were just a beautiful woman with a handsome husband. No one suspected them being an undercover agent. They had to have their guards up. Especially in this kind of party.

A small smile crossed his face. This was going to be fun. Alright. Act, beloved wife.

Of course, mon mari~. She wears her most charming and sweet smile as they get close to a poseur table. The guests greets us and we greet them back.

Chamber does his best to make sure his smile looked both charming and smug. With her beside him, the smug smile had a little more genuine edge to it. With the guests, he looked at her with pride, like seeing his trophy wife. You played the part so damn well, how could he not show some pride? ;)

She takes a deep inhale, enjoying the feeling of the atmosphere around them. No one could tell the twi were anything but an extremely loving, happily married couple. No one would suspect a thing until him and her make a move. This had to be a good plan. This has to go well.

She pulls a waiter towards their table. Chamber looks at her out of the corner of his eye. He was making sure she was acting her part. Do you want something to drink, darling? She asks as she glances at the waiter, then she smiles at Chamber.

Chamber couldnt stop lookin at her. Acting and pretending felt... good, with her. She acter her part, like a good "married couple", and made the act so believable he almost forgot the reason they were there. This moment, the most intimate part of it all, was so convincing it blurred a line in his mind that he didnt know was there.

Chamber looks at her and whispers, still smiling. Your choice.

She smiles at him warmly, not too excessive to pull the attention to me, not insincere to look cold towards him. Then, im ordering Bordeaux Blend for you and for me... You choose. She gives him a subtle smirk with her voice is velvet-like and lowered.

He couldnt help but smile. In this moment, she acted so well, he would honestly consider taking her out of this plan and just make her his wife. He spoke in with a deep, warm and velvety tone, trying to match her. With a certain confidence, he orders a glass of champagne for her. This would work. A toast in advance...

After short while, waiter comes with the orders and they get their beverages. He turns his gaze towards her. For a successful mission.

She smiles at him. No one heard his sentence, that was a good thing. For our success.

A successful mission... and a successful marriage. He said the last part with a grin. It was half out of instinct, the other half just for show. It was part of the act, a married couple that planned their future together. Yet it was odd to him that he wanted that future with her, someone that came into his life at a most unusual time.

The people on the other tables clinks their glasses almost at the same time with them, then they take small sip from the beverage. It was time to wait for the perfect moment to strike. Her eyes slowly returns to scan the crowd. A lot of suspicioous types there... A lot of interesting people...

Chamber leans back slightly, his eyes sweeping across the party as he thought. His eyes landed on a certain target at the right side of the room, clearly a high-ranking businessman that looked to be talking to a woman in a nice dress.

He leans closer to her, lowering his voice to a whisper. You see that man on the right with the gorgeous woman? His name is Laurent Danton. I know him from previous missions. That woman he is been talking to is Anette Chavois, the CEO's daughter. Our mark.

She looks at the targets without making it obvious, then speaks in a tone that matches his. Yeah, lets keep an eye on them and approach carefully.

He whispers into her ear. I have been keeping an eye on him tonight, and the target always moves between drinks. Its perfect for us to take advantage of this.

He pulls his head back to look at her. As soon as he leaves his current target, we should make our move. Do you agree?

Yes, on your lead. She whispers to him, then both takes long sip from their beverages.

He gives her an enthusiastic nod and looks at his watch, keeping on eye on Mr. Danton from the corner of his eye. He could see that the man was getting into particularly... interesting discussion with the woman he was with, his right arm slightly draped on her shoulder. It looked to be a private conversation.

Chamber checks his watch once more, and with a slight flick of his head he indicates that its time. The couple puts their empty glasses on the tray that was on waiters hand which was passing by, then they make their move. Now the show is about to begin.

Once Mr. Danton took a few steps away from his partner, Chamber immediately moved towards the two, with her on his arm. The man looks at them, surprised to see the handsome couple approaching him. He offered a warm smile to Chamber and shifts his gaze to the stunning woman on Chamber's arm, offers a handshake while addressing her...

Laurent Danton. Pleasure. And you are?

She gives a smile mixed with a smirk. she shakes Laurent Danton's hand eleganty. Y/N Fabron.

Its clear Danton likes the sound of her name, and she is pretty sure he just took a long look at her. Danton has eyes for women, that much is clear. Not just any women, though. Women that are just as gorgeous as her. She could tell by the way his eyes were fixated on her.

Chamber speaks before Laurent can come up with a flirtatious comment directed his wife. Vincent Fabron. He shakes Danton's hand, then moves his hand towards her in a welcoming gesture. My wife. She bows slightly as if she is proud to be Vincent's wife, still smiling at the businessman.

Laurent's eyebrows raise. He looks between the two of them, then he chuckles, clearly impressed. What a beautiful couple you make, to have such a stunning and gorgeous woman with you, Mr Fabron. And his eyes lingered back at her. If they werent pretending to be wife and husband, the man would obviously be flirting with her left and right.

Chamber didnt look away but his arm tightened on her hand, and his eyes narrowed in a focused manner. He didnt like these kinds of people in the slightest. After a few moments of silence, he speaks with a casual tone, like this was a random encounter. So, i understand you are friends with Anette Chavois? Thats an interesting woman, if i have ever met one. The tone wasnt quite hostile... but it wasnt friendly either.

He directly went to the topic. No games, no subtle meanings... She still keeps smiling and strokes his arm slightly to signal him if something goes wrong, she will back him up.

A quiet smile on Laurent's lips. He notices that stroke, no doubt. He knew it was meant for him to signal if something was wrong. But she looked absolutely charming, and the fact that she was touching him was just as effective. Even the woman he was with tilted her head, looking at her with admiration.

Laurent clears his throat, his smile growing wider by the second. Of course, we are good friends. Anette and me, we go way back.

Chamber looks over at her and gives her a smug smile, proud of how she was able to carry herself. He then looks back towards Laurent. You two must have a lot to talk about then. He makes a small pause. Or perhaps i can steal my wife for a moment?

She chuckles softly, it was fake but it made the mood that was getting heavy a little bit lighter. Mr. & Mrs. Fabron could see the man considering the decision. He clearly wanted to say yes, being a man of status and privilege... but the hesitation came from him wanting to keep Y/N close, too. An excuse to have her nearby just to look at.

Laurent chuckles. Just for a moment. He gestures towards his partner. Anette looks at her again, her eyes studying Y/N, perhaps a little too intently. Y/N knew that look. Anette was jealous. Of her.

Y/N smiles and they take some steps back, to have some privacy away from the crowd, including the businessman and CEO's daughter.

Chamber turns to face her, speaking quietly so only she can hear his words. His tone was soft and sweet... Are you okay, wife?

His arms wraps around her waist, his eyes closing in satisfaction. She was the only thing he could focus on, like a beautiful distraction that would lead to a dangerous spiral. He was just making sure her part was going well.

She reaches a hand to the side of his neck, gently caressing, her hand trails down to his shoulder sometimes and trails back to his neck. I am, except the hungry looks of Laurent. If we werent on a mission, i would have taken care of him. But i have to bear it now. She speaks in quiet tone, almost playfully and pouting, but he knew she was serious on her words. She was clearly irritated by the flirtation of Laurent, but she was heeping the pose for the sake of the mission and Chamber.

His eyes narrowed slightly in irritation, his grip on her waist tightening in an almost possessive fashion. He was still playing the role, but the words were genuine. He didn't like the way these rich, flirtatious people tried to get at her. He gives a warm, friendly smile, but his eyes were stern. One hand stayed on her waist, the other hand ran across her shoulder to her neck. His thumb caressed her cheek.

Husband mode activated. If he so much as touches you, wife, I'll make him regret it. Dont worry, beloved wife. I will take care of this situation.

Then Laurent spoke up again, a clear tone of sarcasm in his question. Tell me, Mrs. Fabron. He was being far flirtier than anyone should, and he knew it. He was clearly enjoying it.

Chamber had no problems ignoring Danton's presence when she decided to keep talking to the man. If anything, it got him more irritated the longer the conversation with him went on. Laurent was just enjoying the situation a little too much… in an inappropriate manner. Chamber let out a quiet sigh, trying to keep his smile as polite as possible.

Laurent noticed the sigh, and he spoke up while giving him a smug smile.

Laurent seemed almost as arrogant as Vincent thought he would be. It wasn't a good look for a man in his position. It was good that he was an arrogant man, though, because it was exactly what Vincent wanted. What he needed. He was going to let the man have his arrogance, in order to catch him off-guard.

Chamber looked at her softly, wanting to protect her from this person…

Excuse me, Mr. Danton? She asks without turning her body towards Laurent, one hand on Chambers shoulder and other hand is on his arm. Chamber's arms are wrapped around her waist again. She gives a gentle smile to Laurent to not cause a scene, but her body language shows how much she got uncomfortable with his behaviors.

Laurent immediately stops, his eyes shifting towards her. It took more than a second to break the smile he gave. He turned to her, a charming grin on his face. One that could not hide his intentions. I did say just a moment, didn't I? He looked as though he couldn't help it; in fact, he was simply unable to take his eyes off Y/N. He looked at her with such a predatory smile. He gave off a certain aura that he was sure Anette was enjoying. No, she wasnt. She looked at Y/N with that familiar jealousy.

Y/N chuckles softly and let go of Chamber's shoulder, but then she holds onto his arm with both hands. Of course, you did, Mr. Danton. We got carried away, apologies.

The more she tried to act the part with Laurent, Anette's gaze didn't waver. Anette would glare at Y/N, as if to express how irritated she was by the situation. Her partner looked at Mrs. Fabron, Y/N, still with that predatory gaze and sly smile. All he would need was a simple word, and he would drop Anette right away. Y/N could see the attraction to her in his gaze. Y/N could almost feel Anette's jealousy behind her. Anette needed to look good to her own partner, and Y/N was certainly ruining that.

Anette rolls her eyes, obviously knowing the intention of both parties. She can't believe she has to share a partner with Mrs. Fabron. Anette looked like she wants to make a scene to get Laurent's attention back to her. She's the type who's used to having the attention on her. Anette clearly needs a lot of it.

Chamber is still in character, so he keeps a smile on his face. However, his grip slowly gets tighter and tighter on his partner's waist. He was getting genuinely annoyed by this flirtatious bastard.

Y/N feels the tight grip on her waist and puts her hand over his gently, their rings on their fingers were touching each other. She gently stroke his hand to calm him down.

Her hand was exactly the kind of distraction he needed. For a second, his attention was back on her, and her only. He looked to her, her hand stroking his, and the anger on his face slowly disappearing as his grip on her relaxed. The warmth of her hand put a grin back on his face.

He suddenly had a mischievous idea. He leaned in closer, as if they had something between them. He kept his voice low and calm, letting his eyes rest on Anette. Let's cut to the chase, darling. You know that won't last.

Y/N smirks at him. She had a plan and they found their targets, why miss them when they can catch them? Why don't we all sit and talk a little bit? She suggests to Laurent. By we, she meant all four of them, but she is sure he will accept it.

Laurent's expression changed a little, from the predatory and charming smile, to an expression of confusion and intrigue. He was clearly trying to read both of them, searching for their intentions. He looks back at Anette. Anette was still looking at her with anger, clearly not happy with how her partner was acting. He turned back to Mrs. Fabron with a grin. The more, the merrier, darling. Have a seat. He gestures towards the empty chairs. The four of them was certainly drawing a lot of attention from other guests.

Y/N smiles and they all four walk to the empty table enough for 4 people. They sit down on the table. Chamber next to her, Anette across her, and Laurent next to Anette and across Chamber.

Chamber looks at the table. He cant help but notice how close Anette and Laurent are sitting. It wasnt a matter of space at the table, it was an act of affection. A clear display to the other guests, as if it hadnt been clear already, this was a couple. Anette placed her hand on Laurent's, resting on the table. She wore a ring on it. A gold wedding band. Fabron couple saw a small glimpse of it.

Y/N was holding Chamber's hand and gave slight squeeze on his hand, signaling the ring on Anette's finger. Chamber feels her squeeze his hand and he returns the squeeze to reply that he saw the ring too. His eyes were on Anette and Laurent's interaction. They were… comfortable together.

Y/N was wondering how much longer she'd have to sit here in the presence of these people. She had a job to do. That was the only problem. But at that moment, all she wanted was to have a moment for just the two of them, Chamber and her. All they needed to do was get close to the Anette and Laurent, and make the couple trust them enough to give some information. except that everything was nothing but just empty words.

She waited and watched. Laurent and Anette's hand kept touching… and touching. Y/N's eyes wandered to see Anettes's face. Anette was clearly enjoying this conversation. She also noticed the woman kept glancing at Y/N and Chamber out of the corner of her eyes. It was like Anette was jealous, but Y/N couldn't say why. Chamber squeezes her hand again. He was just checking in with her. His grip on her hand was getting tighter. A sign he was getting impatient.

She strokes his hand, then starts a conversation to talk. An easy and light conversation that won't bother anyone. After a good hour, They all laugh and chat. They did their job and got the information they needed. They could leave after not so long.

Chamber gave a casual and handsome smile towards Laurent and Anette. His grip on her hand was starting to hurt, but he didn't care. He was too intent on ending this conversation. He also noticed her hand stroke on his a second time. So, Anette didn't manage to be in a corner of his attention anymore. All he could think about, all he could focus on, were her hands on his, and the way she looked at him with those beautiful eyes. He was too caught in the moment, almost forgetting his job.

Y/N turns her head around to look whats happening around them. Clearly bored from the atmosphere and the conversation yet she had to play it off. Chamber looks around and sees that some partners were looking at them with awe and admiration, some women with jealousy, and Anette with… jealousy as well. From the way Anette kept looking at her, he was sure his hypothesis were correct. …This might work. He looked at her. I have a plan I think you'll like.

Y/N looks at him confused, but they were partners, even if it was just an act, she had to trust him. Especially when they were on a mission.

Chamber takes a couple steps back, pulling her with him. He moves slowly, seductively, and with grace. He took some steps back, putting some space between the table Anette and Laurent were sitting and him and his partner. He grabbed her by the waist, his arms slowly pulling her in. His eyes never left hers, the same captivating look from before, just a little more intimate.

He started dancing with her on the spot. The music was slow, the atmosphere was right, and the way they kept looking at each other… It was perfect. Y/N turns her head around to look whats happening around them. There was a light romantic melody on the background and some couples were dancing together. They can do a little show before they leave, maybe?

She smirks as she understood what he was planning. She puts her hand on his shoulder as they dance, they were close enough to whisper to each other. She whispers with a smirk. You really put on a show, Mr. Fabron. She teases him with the title. He really knew what he was doing.

He just pulls her closer to him with a smirk, his face looking even more smug than usual. At that moment, his eyes locked on Anette's for a moment. The predatory and arrogant look was still there, but it changed ever so slightly. He was observing Anette's behavior. His hand slowly slides up to the back of her neck. It was so warm, so soft. He leans in closer to her ear, whispering with confidence. Did you enjoy the show, darling?

She couldn't help but chuckle, but She tried her best to keep the smug smile on her face. The music was perfect for this kind of slow dance. It has so far worked, beloved Fabron. She looks around the room, seeing all the eyes on them, all the eyes on the two of them.

He pulls his head back. Just enough to see her face, and just enough for her to see that grin. He slowly drags his fingertips across her face, tracing her mouth and chin, still staring at her. The way she looked at him, the way her eyes locked on his. He couldn't look away. Your body is amazing. He whispers. His lips are very close to hers, but the man decided against the last step… yet he was inches away, his mouth at a perfect distance from hers.

The couple was dancing together. As much as Anette hated it, that much was obvious. But even while she looked at the two of them with jealousy, there was no denying it: they were quite the couple. Anette was clearly starting to question her relationship with Laurent after seeing the way he kept looking at Y/N.

Y/N smirks at him, she knew his intention and whispers. Oh, my husband wants kiss? She chuckles softly. I hope you still remember this all is just an act at the end of the mission. I hope your heart won't break after a pretentious kiss.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her teasing. She was too bold sometimes. Still, he couldn't resist. Still inches away from her lips, he leans closer, his eyes locked on hers. He whispered, loud enough for only her to hear. …I do get to kiss my beautiful wife, right? She chuckles silently. Then… their lips meets in a tender, gentle, slow kiss.

It was everything he expected it to be, and so much more. His eyes lit up when she kissed back, their lips touching for those precious, blissful moments. He pressed his lips against hers, matching the same gentle and slow pace. This kiss was tender and beautiful, an act of pure affection. Even if they had to lie, even if this moment was going to be just for a short instant, the two of them kissed, as passionately as any husband and wife would kiss. But they had a job to do.

Their lips part away after the short kiss. She speaks whispering and teasingly as they walk back to the table. Be grateful my lipstick doesn't come off.

Even though he knew he shouldn't, the grin on his face widened. Somehow the kiss made him feel more confident and smug than usual, and he was completely aware of it. I would have been happy to get it off your face anyway. I wouldn't mind the red lipstick on my face. He gave her a devilish look, enjoying the little fun he was having, if not enjoying the mission itself.

She rolls her eyes and chuckles. It was time to leave, since Anette and Laurent was ready to leave this "businessmen party".

Chamber glances at Laurent and Anette, whose eyes were still on the two of them. Their eyes seemed to give off a different kind of energy now, like the kind of people who just got to the end of the perfect date. Anette seemed more enamored than ever, but Laurent seemed… different. Almost as if he was jealous. Jealous of Chamber for being Y/N's husband. Chamber checks his watch. It was time for them to wrap things up.

Chamber turns and addresses the four of them. We have had a lovely night, wouldnt you agree, chérie?

She smiles at him gently. Thats right, it was a pleasant night, mon mari.

He turns his body ever so slightly towards her, keeping his eyes locked on her. He then raises a hand in the air. A small gesture of leaving the party.

Chamber's gaze suddenly turned towards Laurent, their eyes locked, like if they were trying to outstare eavh other. Laurent looked away first, almost reluctantly. He could barely hide his annoyance, like he had the worst case of jealousy.

Y/N could feel Anette squeeze Laurent's hand, and a soft kiss on his cheek. She whispered something into his ear, and Laurent let a smile creep onto his face as he nodded. He didn't look at Y/N anymore.

We should go. Chamber's smirk returned.

She bows slightly and they both turn towards the exit, arms intertwined. She whispers to him, clearly exhausted and frustrated from everything. Finally.

He gave her a charming smile. Their mission was successful, and she did a great job being his wife for that period of time. His eyes fell on her lips, as if there was something to say but he chose not to say it. He held on a little more strongly to her arm. He just enjoyed the intimacy of being with her, like the most devoted husbands might do.

I feel like we should celebrate our success somehow. He smirks, looking like he had a few ideas on his mind.

I want to celebrate it by taking my shoes off and jumping in my bed for a good night's sleep. She speaks clearly irritated by the party, act and Laurent's flirting.

He cant help but chuckle and look at her sideways, rolling his eyes. He smirks at her playfully, still clearly trying to look like the most loving husband. I think i have the perfect remedy for that... He leans in closer. In the meantime, can my wife walk next to me, arm in arm, with a smile in that gorgeous face of hers? He looks at you with more than just a hint of affection.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Chamber opens the door for her, she slumps on the passenger seat. He gets in driver's seat. Lets just end this mission. And since we are done with pretending to be a happy married couple... She takes the ring out of her finger and puts it on the cup holder of the car.

If his eyes could go any wider, they would. His smile disappeared from his face, and was replaced by confusion. His reaction wasnt due to pain or sadness, it was due to the sudden change in tone. His confident, happy-go-lucky expression turned into a look of surprise... followed by something.

She could feel that something in his eyes. It was like a tiny flicker, but she saw it. He couldnt help but look surprised... and disappointed. He turned his gaze away. ...Of course. He starts the car.

She stares at the road in silence whole time back to the quarters. All the act, all the pose of married couple ended. She had told him in the first place, after this ends, everything will be over. Now everything ended, and they were going back to how they were.

Chamber kept driving. The radio was off, the windows slightly open, with a beautiful night and a clear sky outside. The silence was awkward, to say the least. His eyes were focused on the road, while his hand gripped tightly to the steering wheel. His face was emotionless, while his eyes were filled with regret. In such an odd way, even though the act was a lie, he felt hurt. Because of his role, because of who the target was, and because of her.

As he parks his car on the parking lot of headquarters, she had fallen asleep on the passenger seat on their way back after all the tiredness of the mission washed over her.

He opened the door and saw her asleep. His eyes looked down at her, her face so peacefully serene as she slept. He gave a small smile. He was proud at how well she managed to act for most of the time. He wasn't proud of something else, though. He got the ring from cup holder and put it on his jacket's pocket.

He gently picked her up so that she wouldn't wake up. With his arm under her legs and the other supporting her back, he walked to her room to lay her down. The way he walked and his face said: "I just want to take care of you."

He placed her on the bed, her body looking like a sleeping angel. He then sat down on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep as he stroked her hair with extreme tenderness. His face was still expressionless, but his eyes gave the expression away. The look of... Love. He loved her. But that feeling would have to wait. He looked at the ring on the coffee table. He had to keep telling himself he had a job to do.

He placed her down carefully. He pulled the blanket up to my chin and he took off her shoes for her, placing them on the side of the bed. He then turns the light off, but he just stands there. Still no words, nor any hint of movement. He is just watching over her as she sleeps. Making sure she is comfortable. Making sure she is okay. Doing what a husband would do for their partner. It was an affectionate yet sad sight, if one could call it that. He had placed the ring she took off to the table on the bedside. She was still sleeping, her hair draped over the pillow, the blanket over her.

Chamber looks at her. He sees the beautiful and fragile features of her face, and the way she sleeps peacefully and serenely. He couldn't help but place a soft, tender kiss on her forehead. He lingered for a second, letting his lips linger, but he knew time was of the essence. He walked out, turning off the lights behind him, leaving her room pitch black.

On his way to his room, he turns towards her door once more. His chest filled with conflicted emotions, he turns away and enters his quarters, leaving her to rest. The mission was over, but his heart remained undecided.

He enters his own room. He sits down on his bed, looking at the bed beside his own. His face has an expression she've never seen, an expression that he had never expected. He was thinking about her. About the one woman who had the power to change his life. The one woman who made him feel both warm and cold. The one woman who made him feel so much affection and love at the same time. The one woman who could break his heart.

He throws himself on his bed to lay down. As if he was too annoyed with himself. Too much work, too much acting. His head spun with emotions. The mission was over. So why did his heart feel like a trainwreck?

Sorry if this sucks with too much explanation and lacking conversation and mission scenes/action. I had hard time to write something good and it was hard to type with burnt wrist so it took longer than intended. I hope this meets with your expectations.

#valorant chamber #valorant x reader #vincent fabron #chamber #chamber x reader #valorant fanfiction #chamber valorant #valorant chamber x reader #valorant vincent fabron

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