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camillemontespan · 5 years ago

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ten years from now [AU. drake walker x camille montespan] [part eighteen: mojitos and sunrises]

@ibldw-main @pug-bitch @jovialyouthmusic @katedrakeohd @rainbowsinthestorm @emichelle @dcbbw @sirbeepsalot @notoriouscs @burnsoslow @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gardeningourmet @pedudley @marshmallowsandfire @princessleac1 @simplymissjulia @kingliam2019

'So let me get this straight,' Riley said, her blue eyes boring into Liam's. 'You were engaged to this girl Camille, about to get married in a few months at the Met, and you both visited her hometown in Texas to invite her old friends and see her grandmother. While there, she was reunited with her ex-best friend who turned out to also be her ex boyfriend who she lost her virginity to, and she fucked him. You were oblivious. Then you both come back to New York, she meets up with the ex boyfriend across town and fucks him again. Then her grandmother has a fall and Camille goes back to Texas to see her in hospital. When she comes back to New York, you are making her favourite dinner in a bid to apologise for not being able to leave work to go to Texas when she bursts into tears and tells you that she fucked the ex boyfriend twice and kissed him in some sort of maze.. You walk out and now the wedding is off. Have I got all that right?'

Liam nodded. 'That's it.'

Riley stared at him. 'What a fucking bitch.'

Liam let out a surprised laugh. 'Wow, don't hold back.'

'But she is!' Riley cried, indignation flooding her face. 'You're a nice guy and from what you've told me, you did everything to keep her happy. You sent her grandma roses! Like, you are the ideal husband! But she gave that up to have dirty hotel room sex with her redneck cowboy ex boyfriend who she dated ten years ago!'

Liam sipped his scotch and shrugged. ‘Pretty much,’ he said. ‘Though he wasn’t a redneck-’

‘He slept with your fiancee, trust me, he is a redneck,’ Riley interrupted, her nose flaring. She shook her head. ‘What an asshole.’

Liam raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re quite opinionated, aren’t you?’

Riley sipped her drink and regarded Liam with a cool expression. They were the only ones left out of their colleagues; everyone else had gone home. But Liam and Riley had gotten more drinks and Riley had listened as Liam told her about his recent woes.

‘What you see is what you get with me,’ Riley told him. ‘I don’t sugarcoat anything. I’m 100% honest. It scares some people..’

‘I think it’s refreshing,’ Liam assured her. ‘I like it.’

Riley’s cheeks turned pink as she cast her eyes down to study her glass. Liam smiled and gestured to the waitress for another two drinks.

‘So you’ve heard my story,’ Liam said. ‘What’s yours?’

Riley squared her shoulders and looked at him straight on. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Just tell me about you. Where you’re from, family, dating history, college?’

Riley rolled her eyes. ‘Okay, so I’m from Jersey-’

Liam winced. Riley laughed. ‘Oh, I know. I know. So yeah, I’m from Jersey. I have two older brothers but we don’t speak anymore. Three ex boyfriends - I dumped them. I attended Art School and graduated with distinction.’

Liam’s eyes widened. ‘Oh wow. So why are you working on Wall Street if you’re an artist?’

The waitress dropped off their two new drinks which Riley took gratefully. She took a long sip and smacked her cherry lips together. Liam’s eyes flicked to her bottom lip; he quickly looked away.

‘Because the money is fucking good,’ she answered bluntly. ‘Why do you work on Wall Street?’

Liam blinked. A slow smile formed on his face and he chuckled. ‘Because the money is fucking good.’

Riley raised her glass and clinked it against Liam’s. ‘Let’s toast to money.’

‘To money,’ Liam said grandly. ‘Though it isn’t the be and end all.’

Riley rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. It’s not. But it does let us buy all the drinks we want and that is what matters.’

Liam laughed and tossed the scotch down his throat. Riley regarded him silently, her eyebrow quirking up; she looked quite mischievous.

‘I have a guilty pleasure,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Do you promise not to judge me if I tell you it?’

Liam smiled. ‘Tell me.’

Riley drained the last of her scotch. ‘I love karaoke bars..’

Liam threw his head back as he laughed. ‘Oh god, you’re so not cool,’ he teased.

‘I know I’m not!’ Riley cried. ‘I never try to be. I love karaoke bars. Wanna come to one with me?’

‘I don’t sing-’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Riley interrupted. ‘It’s fun.’

‘I can’t..’

Riley sighed. She looked at Liam with a steady stare, clearly not taking any of his excuses. ‘When was the last time you did something that was fun?’ she asked. ‘That was new? That forced you to just let go?’

Liam considered her question. He couldn’t remember. His life had been a conveyor belt of early mornings, late nights in the office and trying to make Camille happy.

He sighed. ‘Fine. Let’s go to a karaoke bar..’

Riley stood up and dragged him to his feet. ‘No need to act like you’re heading for your execution,’ she quipped. ‘Come on, I know a place two blocks from here.’

Liam followed her out of the bar towards the karaoke bar that was lit up in neon. As he listened to Riley talk incessantly,he felt like he was leaving behind a life of grey and was now entering a world of colour.

*********************************************

Liam and Riley were now hammered on mojitos. They had hired a private room for an hour and Riley had squealed in excitement when she saw that there was a dressing up box for customers to rifle through. She threw a feather boa around Liam’s shoulders, telling him that he looked fabulous.

He watched her as she sang along to Total Eclipse of the Heart, badly. But she didn’t care. She belted out the ballad, closing her eyes and swaying, even raising her fist in the air like the diva she was. Liam had laughed and enjoyed watching her. He felt relaxed. He had even loosened his tie.

‘Okay, your go!’ Riley said, throwing herself down on the velvet booth next to him. ‘Entertain me!’

Liam groaned but he still stood up to look through the catalogue. He considered his options before throwing caution to the wind.

Riley’s eyes widened as she heard the opening bars. ‘Oh my god..’

Liam threw his shoulders back and adopted a haughty pose. He wrapped the feather boa around his neck and placed a bowler hat on his head, keeping his eyes to the floor as he waited for his line.

‘At first I was afraid, I was petrified...kept thinking I could never live without you by my side..’

Riley clapped her hands, laughing as she watched Liam start the song.

But then I spent so many nights thinking how you did me wrong, and I grew strong and I learned how to get along.. FROM OUTER SPACE!’

Liam twirled on his foot, the feather boa flying around him as he started to strut drunkenly across the room, swinging his hips.

‘I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face, I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key..’

‘YEAH BABY!’ Riley shouted, pointing at him. ‘You tell her!’

Liam continued to sing. He became more extravagant as the song went on; he twirled; he spun; he pointed at Riley; he tossed his hat in the air and caught it. For some reason, he had abandoned his usual quiet persona and was now this ridiculous, camp performer. But he didn’t care. He was enjoying himself. He felt alive.

He looked at Riley, who was watching him in wonder, and gave her a wink. She blushed.

Liam grinned and continued to dance and sing, his voice growing in confidence and volume. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he had unlocked the old Liam. The Liam who used to go out and have fun. The Liam who enjoyed life. The Liam before he became a Wall Street minion. The Liam before he got cheated on. The Liam before he met Camille.

He felt happy.

*********************************

Drake opened his eyes. As his vision adjusted, he realised he was lying on the couch with Camille curled up against him. For a moment, he smiled, his heart flipped and he felt content. Until he realised that he had accidently fallen asleep and was in Camille’s grandmother’s house.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. 6am.

‘Shit!’ he hissed, bolting up. Camille jumped, her eyes opening as he disturbed her slumber. Yawning, she looked up and visibly reeled back when she saw that she had been sleeping beside him.

‘Drake!’

‘We fell asleep,’ Drake told her. ‘Fuck, I should go. It’s 6am..’

Camille jumped to her feet. Her dark hair was tousled and she had sleep in her eyes; she looked perfectly imperfect. Drake’s heart flipped again but he pushed it down as he stood up and arranged the cushions on the couch so Gisele wouldn’t have to tidy up after them.

‘Sorry,’ Camille whispered. ‘I didn’t realise we had fallen asleep. Must have been the whiskey.’

Drake sighed. ‘It’s alright, my fault too. Heh. Anyway, I should go..’

Camille followed him silently out of the living room, wrapping her arms around her body. She unlocked the front door; the sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden glow. She smiled up at Drake. ‘Thank you for tending to the roses,’ she said. ‘I really appreciate it.’

Drake smiled bashfully. ‘Happy to help,’ he told her. He moved to leave the house but stopped short when he looked up at the morning sky. He cast a look back at Camille who was leaning against the threshold, looking slightly embarrassed.

‘Do you want to watch the sunrise with me?’ he asked without thinking. ‘The lake will look gorgeous right now.’

Camille tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled down at the floor. ‘I’d like that,’ she murmured. ‘That sounds.. Perfect.’

Drake grinned and held out his hand for her to take. Camille took his hand, her hands soft and small in his, and together they wandered up the road towards the ranch. Drake smiled to himself as he kept repeating the mantra ‘baby steps’ in his mind. Baby steps. Baby steps.

**************************************

The water was glimmering gold. Camille let out a gasp as she took in the sunrise and how beautiful it was. She sat down on the jetty with Drake beside her and they watched the sun slowly come up, greeting the day.

‘This is beautiful,’ Camille whispered. She cast a look at Drake and reached out to take his hand. ‘Thanks for inviting me to see it.’

Drake blushed. The sunrise had cast his face in a golden glow; his brown eyes changed colour in the light, turning green, which meant his eyes were always a surprise. Camille loved Drake’s eyes. He was smiling as if he couldn’t believe his luck, the kind of smile that made the butterflies in Camille’s stomach start fluttering wildly, and a strand of his dark hair fell over his left eye, making him look shy and awkward. He looked like the boy she had known all those years ago. But when he turned to look at her, Camille could now see the man he had grown into and she couldn’t help but feel the butterflies flutter even more.

‘I love watching the sunrise,’ he told her. ‘It’s peaceful. If you want.. We could do this again?’

Camille smiled. ‘I’d love that.’

Drake gently wrapped his arm around her shoulder and brought her in close to him; Camille inhaled his scent. He smelled of whiskey and the forest. He smelled like home.

#drake x camille

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slashscowboyboots · 5 years ago

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Reptiles & Rogues: Loaded Like a Freight Train (Part 1)

Have I finished my High School GNR fics? HELL NO! Did I start another series? YOU BET YOUR ASS! Is it as long as a book? SHIT YEAH WHY NOT?

Tag list: @malibubarbievince @ace-is-back-and-he-told-you-so @fanofnightz @sunshinesuska @sodalitefully

Warnings: Public intoxication, the occasional cuss word, brief allusion to whiskey dick, wanting to grope a stranger’s fine ass (it’s about GNR people, they ain’t the church choir-see the above gif)

Notes: This is the first installment of a series, and the character Susan is based on the wonderful @sunshinesuska (if you aren’t following her or her writing blog @izzysdenimjacket you are really missing out, what a talent)

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

He was gorgeous.

And as he swayed all over the stage, you realized he was hammered. Immaculately graceful and stunning, but he was completely FUBAR.

It was the first time you’d ever seen your friend Slash’s band Guns N’Roses play. You’d met him when he stopped by the reptile rescue center where you worked, a beacon of tranquility on a busy city block. With his impressive mane of curls and top hat, Slash definitely stood out amongst the normal gawkers and the classes of schoolchildren who came by to line up and hold Ralph the 8 foot red-tailed boa out to his full length.

The charming guitarist showed up frequently, leaving the newspaper stand 2 doors down where he where he worked (mostly gabbing on the phone) to come in and coo and smile at every animal in the place, large or small, knowing more about reptiles than any book or herpetologist.

He’d taken such a shine to the ancient tegu lizard Fats that he’d begged you to let him take him home for a weekend, and the fact that was against Dr. Mark’s policies (the veterinarian owned the facility and therefore made the rules) completely broke your heart. You knew the geriatric and corpulent old tegu returned Slash’s affection, and would probably enjoy a couple of days having a devoted dad who treated him so tenderly.

You’d even visited Slash’s place and met Clyde, and it just blew you away that this scruffy looking guy owned a for-real anaconda. AN ANACONDA. You’d never seen one before; they didn’t get rescued because they were so irascible people didn’t keep them as pets, but here was Slash, holding up a placid green and yellow noodle like it was normal to do this kind of thing every day.

Slash was a deeply cherished friend, nothing more (he had a raging crush on a lab tech named Susan he’d met when he took his Grandma Ola in for bloodwork, and your didn’t meet too many guys with your head down shoveling reptile shit), a welcome human voice amid the silent creatures, and when he’d asked you to come out and see his band play, you couldn’t tell him no.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re LOUD.”

Well, it wasn’t like you hadn’t heard of the Germs.

So had you headed down the Strip, X t-shirt and black ripped jeans on. You’d even made somewhat of an effort with your hair, teasing your curls out and lacquering them in place.

Alright, dude, here I am.

And you had witnessed the most amazing band you’d ever seen tear through their set in a state of shock. That sweet, soft spoken buddy of yours was bare chested and sweaty, his head thrown back, effortlessly making his Les Paul cry the most beautiful tears. But as much as you loved watching Slash play, someone else onstage had your full attention.

He was pale, tall and thin, with long black hair, skintight black t-shirt and jeans, beating the everloving hell out of a defenseless white guitar. He wove over and shouted something intelligible into the microphone, then wobbled his way to the other side of the stage. The most beautiful creature you’d ever seen, and, just your luck, he was snake-turds drunk.

After the show, the band milled around the bar. Slash introduced you to them all, and you discovered Hot Stuff went by the nom de punk Izzy Stradlin (how charming). He’d indifferently nodded at you and went back to slurping greedily out of a red solo cup.

Slash was soon detained by an appreciative female fan. He grinned at you in wonderment, exclaiming, “Holy shit, Y/N, you’re like my lucky charm. Susan’s here and she wants to talk to me.” You looked over at her, radiant with her own beautiful curls and top hat, and gently wished him good luck.

With your adrenaline wearing off and everyone preoccupied with drinking and hooking up, you decided to head home. Although you had a day off tomorrow (to get your hairs did), the Sunset Strip was never your scene.

You made it back over to Slash to say goodbye. Susan was seated in his lap, her head buried against his neck

“Bye, Slash. Thanks for inviting me.”

“No problem. Hey, since your like the only sober person here, can I ask you for a favor?”

“Okay?”

“Can you make sure Izzy gets home?”

IZZY? The really hot guy?

“Yeah, he’s a mess tonight, and I trust you not take advantage of him.”

Oh rilly?

Slash smirked, like he’d just read your mind.

You sighed. “Where does he live?” but Slash was already joined at the lips with his pretty new girlfriend.

Where even is Izzy? you thought as you scanned the bar. Your stomach lurched when you thought about peeling him off of some trashy thing and trying to wrestle his drunk ass into your car.

Let’s hope he goes quietly.

To your immense relief, he wasn’t eating some chick’s face (or anything else), just parked on a chair outside of the men’s room, his head thrown back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Uh, Izzy?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m Y/N. I met you earlier. I’m Slash’s friend.”

His eyebrows raised, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“I’m here to take you home.”

A filthy smirk slithered across his face. “You’re about an hour too late for that, honey.”

“No!” you snapped, "Slash asked me to make sure you got home all right.”

He didn’t speak, but slowly stood up without argument, wildly unsteady on his feet. Instinct had you throwing your arms around his slender waist, and his hands held onto your shoulders as you guided him to your car.

Once the two of you were inside, you asked him, “Where do you live?” but he had passed out with his head against the passenger side window.

After you buckled him in, you glanced down at his skintight jeans. While the thought of feeling in his back pockets for a wallet containing a driver’s license definitely held some appeal, groping a drunken stranger’s ass was something you just weren’t willing to do. Not tonight, even if the ass in question was pretty admirable.

Not that you’d been staring. Just looking out for a defenseless individual.

So, were you going to drive around till an abode shouted, “Here’s Izzy’s place!” or he sobered up, whichever came first? Or were you going to take him home with you? One glance over at his perfect profile and one out-loud groan later, you had your answer.

Getting Izzy out of your car wasn’t difficult (gravity had helped). Getting him up the steps to your apartment was a challenge, though, and unlocking the door with him in your arms and leaning on you had been quite the feat.

You shoved him inside to keep from dropping him (to be so damn skinny he sure was heavy), and the two of you finally made it to your couch.

He was completely conked out, no help at all, so you picked up his feet and laid him longways, fetching a pillow to place under his head. Asleep in the dim light, you thought he looked like a fallen angel, then got a good whiff of the cheap booze he’d been guzzling and immediately reconsidered. Then you noticed again how tightly his clothes were fitting him and realized you really needed to wash your face and get to bed. NOW.

#i had such a blast writing this #izzy stradlin x reader #guns n roses x reader #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses fanfic #izzy #yes i know this is really long #theres six more parts

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certifiedskywalker · 6 years ago

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Dating Allison Hargreeves Would Include...

My Dating Diego headcanons did very well so I figured I should make some for the other Hargreeves heart throb. The lovely, the charming, Allison Hargreeves!

You met Vanya (yes I know, wrong sister) at the coffee shop near the orchestra house.

(By the way, let me know if we want something like this for Vanya and the rest of the siblings. I’m already working on a Klaus piece. Thanks friends!)

She stopped in one day, shy as ever, and asked for a tea.

You noted her violin case and started talking about music.

From then on, you became fast friends.

So when Reginald dies, Vanya turns to you for comfort.

“He’s dead.”

“Who?”

“My father.”

She doesn’t seem sad, per say, but you can tell she’s mourning something.

Vanya asks you to come with her to The Umbrella Academy to read the will and such with her siblings.

“Are you sure that you even want to go?”

“No, but...I think I need to.”

So you go with her on the grey skied day to the mansion she grew up in.

You’re in awe of the mansion.

The architecture is breathtaking and the interior is stunning.

“Who knew so much pain could be held in a house so pretty?”

“You don’t even know the extent of it, Y/N.”

But you did.

You helped proofread and edit Vanya’ autobiography, so you knew the Hargreeves.

You knew about the contents of the chapters Vanya had cut from the final copy and the details she spared from touching the light of day.

You knew about Luther’s less than superb leadership.

You knew about Diego’s biting words and Klaus’ pyromaniac tendencies.

You were also familiar with Allison Hargreeve’s innate arrogance.

So when she came down the stairs to greet you and Vayna, hair tumbling over her shoulders as if she were living art, you tried not to be swayed by her beauty.

‘Tried’ is the key word there.

As Vanya and Allison share a rather strange embrace, you have to tear your eyes away and look anywhere but directly at her.

Allison takes notice of you bashfulness, your averted gaze and overall appearance.

She’s never met someone like you before.

Despite being a movie star and having met plenty of actors with plenty of prestige, Allison had never been so shocked when it came to meeting someone as she was with you.

You were stunning to her.

She wanted to know you.

“This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N….this is-”

“Allison,” you say nervously, cutting off Vanya’s introduction.

Vanya gives you a puzzled look, confusion written across her face.

Allison is only smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you add quickly, extending your hand to Allison with as much professionalism you can muster.

“It’s lovely meeting a friend of Vanya’s.”

She says it like she’s never met any of Vanya’s friends before.

It’s because she hasn’t, that and you make her nervous.

Allison has never had to be nervous before.

She always got what she wanted and now what she wanted was a person.

She suddenly regrets not keeping in contact with Vanya.

Allison wished she had met you sooner.

And maybe it’s the way you’re staring at her that makes her believe you wished you could have had the chance to meet her sooner as well.

Thankfully, before either of you can say something stupid, another one of Vanya’s siblings breaks through the awkward tension gathering in the foyer.

“What’s she doing there?”

Judging from the tone and brooding exterior, you surmise the man is Diego.

“Ignore him,” Allison tries to comfort Vanya, but your friend has already withdrawn.

“No, he’s right. We should go.”

“No, stay,” Allison pleads, “I want you to be here.”

She turns her carmel eyes to you and you swear you see stars dancing in the dark pools of her pupils.

“Both of you,” she adds, sending you a smile that makes your knees weak.

Maybe Vanya missed something when she was writing her book.

Allison seemed kind…

...or at least now she was kind.

Perhaps she’s making up for lost time?

“Okay,” Vanya sighs, “we’ll stay. Is that alright with you, Y/N?”

“More than alright.”

“Perfect! Why don’t you two wait in the den and I’ll try to find the others?”

Vanya only nods at her sister and Allison gives her a grin before making her way towards a hall.

Before she leaves, Allison send a wink your way and you’re left in a daze.

“The den is this way,” Vanya says, her voice is enough to pull your attention away from Allison’s retreating figure.

As you explore the room in which Vanya spent her younger years reading and avoiding her family, Allison was thinking of you.

“She seems….nice. More than I expected her to be,” you say to Vanya as she studies the book shelf in the lounge.

“She surprised me too,” Vanya admits, “I guess dad’s death really hit her.”

You only nod as Vanya continues to reflect in her childhood home.

It’s then Pogo comes in, happy to catch up with Vanya as she introduced him to you.

You’re talking about the first time Vanya invited you to see her perform when the rest of the siblings file in.

“Vanya, it’s good to see you,” says Luther who, at least from Vanya’s account from her novel, seemed larger than life.

“It’s good to see you too, Luther,” she greets before who you can only assume Klaus give her a brief hug.

It seemed very touch of affection in the room seemed force.

All glances and words laced with some undercurrent of mutual suffering.

All except the stare Allison had fixed on you.

Sadly, it was rudely interrupted when Luther cleared his throat.

“Vanya do you mind excusing your friend. We have some family business to discuss.”

Vanya is about to protest, Allison already to leap to your defense when you speak up.

“It’s alright,” you say, touching Vanya’s arm, “I need to find the restroom anyway.”

You’re walking towards the door that leads into the foyer when you hear Allison’s soft voice.

“There’s one close to my room. Second level, towards the end of the first hall on your left.”

You look over your shoulder and send her a grateful smile.

You’re out the door seconds later and miss how her lips part in wonder of your tender grin.

Needless to say, due to the large and winding hallways of the Umbrella Academy, you’re lost as soon as you make your way to the second floor.

Your search for the restroom becomes a desperate need for help.

You’ll take anyone as a guide at this rate.

After what felt like fifteen minutes of wandering around and hearing a few shouts from the siblings downstairs, you think you finally have found the right hallway.

Music is filtering in from one of the two doors at the end of the hall, a rather pop-bop tune.

You recognize it as Tiffany’s ‘I Think We’re Alone Now’.

A blast from the past.

You also notice that one of the door, presumably the one that housed the record player the song was sourced from was slightly ajar.

Panic forgotten and sense long lost in the creaking wooden floors of the mansion, you peek inside the crack of the door.

Allison is dancing around her room with a girlish sort of glee.

She flourishes her pink-feather boa, her lips spread in a smile that sparkled like stars.

You’re so swept away in her movements, you accidentally lean against the door enough to poke your head inside the room.

It’s then Allison sees you.

You expect her smile to fade into a frown or for her to scream.

But she doesn’t.

“Fancy a dance, Y/N?”

She extends her hand to you and you find yourself unable to refuse.

The tension builds between you as you move

It’s nearly unbearable

As the song draws to close, you and Allison are a mere centimeters apart with noses almost brushing.

You can feel her breath on your skin

And Allison can feel her heart hammering in her rib cage.

“You uh...you got some moves,” she breathes, the air tickling your neck slightly.

“Thanks,” you say with a shy smile.

You can’t tell who makes the first move, but you’re sure it was Allison.

Her lips press against yours in a flurry of soft pecks and your hands instantly bury themselves in her bouncing curls.

Her lips are soft a taste of some sweet fruit that you are too caught up to directly place.

When Allison pulls away from you, she pulls your bottom lip with her a bit.

The action sends a shock through you that, smiling, Allison picks up on.

“I’m glad Vanya brought you here,” she murmurs.

“Me too,” you replied before kissing her once more.

(Okay so that’s how you two meet, now we’re gonna get into the cutesy stuff! Get ready for teeth-rotting fluff my friends!)

Being an actress, Allison loves movies so be prepared for movie nights!

Sharing and swapping sweatpants during said movies night and cuddling under a thick blanket.

“What are we feeling tonight, Y/N? Comedy? Horror?”

You normally just let her choose and without fail, she selects a good flick.

“Romance it is!”

If she does choose a horror film, you both end the night clinging to each other.

Allison likes horror movies, for that reason alone.

Often times the movie goes unwatched as you and Allison get too caught up in each other’s touch.

She’ll just start kissing at your neck until your eyes close and bliss, the film long forgotten.

However, if you’re both really into whatever you’re watching, Allison gets all sort so snacks ready.

Popcorn, candies, anything is fair game.

“Are you making brownies?”

“For movie night!”

“I think they might be burning....”

On lazy weekend days, when you’re both not busy or working, you slip on comfy clothes and set the record on to dance around.

Slow dancing to Elton John songs all the time.

Allison will never say it aloud but she loves to watch you move, especially when you think she’s not around.

You both dance goofily when you’re together, but when you’re alone, moving your body to the rhythm....

It drives her wild.

Most times, however, she finds herself longing to hear ‘Tiny Dancer’ come on the record.

It’s your song.

You tuck your head into the crook of her neck and hold each other tight.

It’s your shared, quiet moment.

You good on shopping dates to record stores sometimes to expand your musical horizons.

“What about this Queen record?”

“We already have that album at the house.”

“We?”

It was a slip of the tongue really, so natural that the term fell from your lips like an instinct.

“Yeah, we.”

“I like that,” Allison hums, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek.

Klaus teasing Allison about how she’ll never do better than you.

“You’ll never find someone as honest or kind as Y/N. Granted, the bar is low, knowing you…..”

Going window shopping with Allison only to walk into whatever store and have a little fashion show.

“How do I look?” You ask, sending a shy glance towards Allison.

Her eyes have been on you ever since you walked out of the dressing room, completely in awe of you.

Allison can’t help but stare.

“Fantastic, breathtaking….I don’t have a vocabulary big enough.”

Long story short, you guys end up making out in the dressing room.

Speaking of, you guys totally share all and any clothes possible.

Sweaters, jackets, scarfs, you name it.

“Is that my jacket?”

“Maybe...”

“It looks good on you...too good.”

Watching her do her makeup in the morning.

“You should take a photo. It’ll last longer.”

“But you’re right here, being beautiful.”

“I could say the same for you.”

One drunken night, Allison does your makeup.

You wake up with lipstick smeared all over your face and eyeshadow smudged just about everywhere.

“How do I look?”

“Still as stunning as ever, Y/N.”

However, like every relationship, issues do arise.

Due to the fact she’s never actually tried to be her true self, since her powers allowed for her every whim, she tries to win you over with ‘glitz and glam’ instead of ‘rumoring’ you.

She tries to spoil you.

Expensive clothes for expensive dates.

Expensive gifts to spruce up your place.

You don’t not like the presents but you can tell Allison is giving you her everything because she, herself, is insecure.

That’s when you claim control for one night in particular.

She’s already dressed up, ready to go out because she had reserved a table at some upscale restaurant in the city.

She looks gorgeous, as always, but this time it is different.

When you lay eyes on her now you see her confidence waver when Allison turns to face you.

“Ready to go, babe?”

You only smile and shake your head as you step towards her.

You reach for her hands and intertwine your fingers with hers.

Allison is shocked to say the least and doesn’t know what to make of the silence.

You’ve been together for a bit now and she is suddenly overwhelmed by an irrational fear that she has overstepped some unseen boundary.

“Y/N, don’t you want to-”

“I only want you,” you say, looking into her eyes as you begin to sway to an imagined tune. “I want you, Allison. Not the fancy dates or rich things….you don’t need to compensate. I love you, Allison.”

She’s happy you said those three little words first.

She didn’t have to ‘rumor’ you to hear them.

She didn’t want to.

She never did.

“I love you too.”

After that, you are closer than ever.

So close that you meet Claire.

Allison has her flown out for a week in New York and you spend time together.

You take her to museums and parks.

Allison can only watch with hearts in her eyes are you spend time with her daughter.

“Your mom is the best, you know that right. Not the best cook, but she’s really awesome.”

“Hey, I make a mean grilled cheese.”

One day, while you and Claire are playing a board game that Allison had already lost, she finds a picture that her daughter drew.

It’s in crayon but the figures are unmistakable.

Claire, Allison, and you...

Like a family….

….a family Allison didn’t know she could truly have.

You’re cuddling one night, your head rested atop Allison’s chest and her fingers working through your hair when she brings it up.

“I want a family.”

“What?”

“I want a family with you, Y/N.”

You’ve never heard Allison so dire, so serious before.

You lift your head to meet her gaze a find a light smile on her lips.

“You have one,” you murmur as you sit up and position yourself on her lap.

“You have me, your siblings, Claire,” you’re straddling her now and Allison’s whole focus in on you. “We’re your family. We love you. I love you.”

“I love you.”

You’re kissing then, hands caught in her curls as your lips meld together in a passion you’ve never held for someone before.

Allison makes you feel like you’ve never lived before you met her

And Allison swears she didn’t really know what life was about until she met you.

124 notes · View notes

wendynerdwrites · 7 years ago

Text

Jonsa Smut Week Day One: Performance

For @jonsasmutweek Day 1: Try something new or teasing.

Late 19th Century Western AU. Sansa’s a burlesque-ish ingenue, Jon’s her bodyguard/bounty hunter. For his birthday, Sansa decides to make Jon part of the show.

Jon’s witnessed Sansa’s show at least a hundred times by now, used his fists during a few as well. The life of a “bodyguard”. Never his Colt 45’s, of course. He’s a bounty hunter, not an outlaw, and he can’t scare off her audience, especially if they’re ever going to draw out their mark. But it’s always good to keep them visible enough so lads remember to behave, keep their hands to themselves. Sometimes, someone had just one too many and forgot this little rule, and Jon had to step in.

Well, punch in, really. Sansa was sometimes the one who “stepped in”, quite literally. She has a total of seven costumes, and each one comes with a matching pair of steel stiletto heels that Mya sharpens regularly. The first time he saw them in action was in Harroway’s Tower, Arizona. A fresh young soldier boy took a twirl about the neck of her boa as an invitation to grab her by the waist and yank her into his lap. He had a pair of heavy duty, brand new army issue boots, built to withstand the worst of the desert. Sansa shoved it right through the top of his boot. The soldier went red faced and rigid, and when she pulled her heel out, a bit of blood leaked out of the hole. She’s used the giant pins for her head dresses too.

Granted, there’s only so much footwear and hat pins can do if you’re in the really rough sort of place where the other patrons will join in harassing a lady. Sansa’s got sharp accessories and an even sharper mind, but Jon was a State Trooper, an army captain, and was personally taught to box by Jeor “The Old Bear” Mormont. As a bounty hunter especially, he’s built up a reputation for himself, and he always makes a point of being seen entering a town with Ghost by his side. He’s as known for being a tough customer as Sansa is for her show, and he’s got the training and the muscles to back it up.

He’s on edge tonight. Not because the crowd is unsavory --- she’s playing the San Francisco Stage Port tonight, a proper, city, high-end establishment with a real stage, paneled walls, a full band, and all the patrons are expected to don their Sunday best. Her biggest show yet. The sort of venue that would never host a show like hers back East. Thank God for the West Coast, where the heat, open air, and less rigid society made everyone a little more… permissive.

The sort of place folks go to dine, even the wives come along and enjoy the show, laughing and playfully swatting at their husbands for drinking in the performers, pretending not to admire the ostrich feather fans. The audience watches from candle-lit tables with white linen cloths or from a lacquered paneled bar at the back. Sansa has a real dressing room and doesn’t have to change in a coach or tent behind the building, Mya has broken out the scenery for the stage, while Myranda got to distribute the sheet music to the band.

Jon’s on edge tonight for a pretty stupid reason --- it’s his birthday, and no one has said a word. It’s nonsense, really. He’s thirty-three years old and his last eight birthdays have gone uncelebrated. Bounty hunting isn’t the sort of trade that often lets a man settle down long enough for any sort of occasion, let alone keep track of the date. Five times in the past eight years he’s gone his birthday not even realizing the date passed until he stopped over into a town with a well-watched calendar a week later.

He doesn’t even know when Myranda or Mya’s birthdays are. For all he knows, theirs have passed uncelebrated since he joined them. Maybe it’s just not the girls’ way these days.

But it’s a pity, if so. Jon remembers growing up with Sansa at Winterfell Estate, the cakes and parties they’d had whenever someone gained another year. Sansa always made a fuss. She loved planning parties, like the perfect debutante-to-be she was. Growing up, Jon would sometimes get mocked by the boys at school for being the bastard son of a ruined woman, not having a father and carrying his ruined Mother’s name. But it was his birthdays that gave him the strength to brush that sort of thing off, because Stark birthdays proved over and over that he had a proper family, no matter what anyone said.

Of course, that’s ancient history now, isn’t it? That was back before the family was ruined, before Mr. and Mrs. Stark, Mama, Robb, and Rickon were lost. Before Jon’s no-good Father burst into his life and tried to drag him off to be a proper Targaryen heir. Before the army. Before Littlefinger. Jon looks back on those days with fondness, but maybe for Sansa, it’s just pain she feels. Jon left the Stark house and became a railroad heir and ran off by choice, master of his own fate. Sansa? She lost everything, ended up in the house of her mad aunt and her new, crooked, foul husband who trapped Sansa, hid her away, and made her into Alayne Stone, his bordello star. Her journey here was less “make my own way” and more “escape.”

So he hasn’t said a word. If it hurts her to relive those springtime picnics with the steamers hanging from the branches of the weirwood and those pretty cakes Mrs. Mordane used to bake, he’s not going to prompt it.

It’s just that… There’s so much they’ve shared, and so much that has gone unspoken. The way they sometimes act, you’d think they’d met the very day Jon joined her tour.

While he has no interest in a party, or cake, or gifts, or any sort of fuss, a mention might have been nice. Just to know she remembered.

But then, she’s been preoccupied, of course. They’ve had some leads tracking down Baelish, and this is a major gig. It’s the opening night of her week-long engagement here.

So Jon says nothing. He keeps his post near the corner of where the grandstand and the audience area meets, and he keeps to himself as the girls fuss over the show. There are to be spotlights, and Mya’s designed all new background screens and arranged for special props and furniture. Sansa’s been rehearsing since ten o’clock this morning, though not all of it on the stage. Myranda has been adamant that Jon keep his distance so preparation goes swimmingly. “You make the musicians nervous.”

They should be nervous, Jon thinks. He’s witnessed a few rehearsals and seen how some of those players ogled his girl. One trumpet player broke tempo to wolf-whistle, earning him a look from Jon that made him try to huddle under his starched collar, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.

Jon likes Sansa’s show on its own. Indeed, on its own, he likes it far more than any gentleman should. Her proper lady’s education included music and poetry, and Sansa always sang like a bird and wrote dainty little verses when she was small. As a future high society wife, it would be her duty to charm suitors and entertain her husband’s guests. She definitely entertains now, still sings, and writes verses, though the way she’s employed those skills are hardly what her mother had in mind. Sansa’s always been good with words, and that extends to making clean words sound as risky as anything with four letters. She and Myranda hammer out the tunes on local saloon pianos or, when on the road, on guitar and harmonica, during the off hours. They’re nice, catchy, flirty little ditties, but clever enough to be classy. You kept an even enough tone and didn’t belt the lyrics too loud, you could get away with singing a Sansa Stark tune in public without blushing.

Mya has a real talent with tools, too, honed from years of driving wagons, carts, and carriages cross-country. She and Sansa are real artists (A proper Lady’s education also included charcoal sketching, pen drawing, water colors and oil paints), and make some nifty foldable screens. Sansa and Myranda made pretty clothes and drapes and such and with a few pieces of borrowed furniture, the girls regularly turned piss-and-whiskey-soaked saloon platforms into palace boudoirs and fairy forests.

And, of course, there is the dancing and the costumes. The girls spent a year cleaning houses, working textile mills, delivering goods, and teaching pioneers their letters to save up and spend it all on Sansa’s first costume and proper horses and carriage so they could transport the clothes as carefully and securely as possible. All of Sansa’s things, as her show wardrobe expanded, have been stored in carefully padlocked, silk-lined cases with tissue paper wrapped around the garments. A few pieces even had to go in boxes with air holes in them, like they were puppies or bunny rabbits. Everything Sansa wore on stage always required a lot of fuss, but not always a lot of actual fabric.

Sansa wasn’t the sort of performer to show her bare backside to the audience, but more than one of her costumes allowed her fans to know the exact shape of it. Jon still isn’t sure what witchcraft the girls use that keeps her bosoms contained within her bodice just enough to keep her nipples from making their public debut. Especially given how she moves, shaking, leaning over, stretching, leaning…

As a girl, Sansa begged her mother to let her learn ballet. Catelyn had reservations, viewing it as rather risque and unladylike, but then Sansa went to her father with her quivering pout and big blue eyes, and so she got four years of instruction. She isn’t just one of those bordello, rough-trade so-called tavern wenches who just shook their fringe and thrust their chests over into a patron’s face. Sansa definitely did some shaking and bending and teasing, but she was graceful, tasteful. Sin personified, sure, but the sort of sexy nymph that did more than make a drunk fool hoot and tent his trousers. The sort that the ladies enjoyed just as much, stylish and fine enough to make the women see a glamorized reflection, a risky inspiration, and feminine standards that matched their own instead of a threat or pathetic attention-seeker.

It did help that she isn’t technically a full burlesque performer. Sure, she wasn’t above feather fans and boas, but she never wore less than her stocking, bloomers, and corsets and garters. She did have one number that involved the removal of garments, but it was her play-acting a sort of scene that was more “melodically preparing for cotillion” than “peep show.” The bits where she removed garments consisted of her dropping a robe behind a semi-translucent dress screen, and she ended the bit in a gown, technically in more clothing than she started the number in. And she didn’t just dance and sing, she told jokes, proper jokes, good ones, not just the odd suggestive comment.

Still sexy beyond belief, though. And she knew how to shake as well she knew how to arabesque.

Jon bloody loves Sansa’s show, really.

Except for the part where it’s a show with an audience. The show would be perfect without an audience.

Sure, there’s sometimes a strange surge of pride Jon feels when Sansa first comes out on stage and the jaws start to drop. It gives him a bit of a thrill to know she’s so admired, because she’s his. He has the woman every man in the room wants. They can only stare.

But after a couple seconds, the thrill drops. And it’s more like he’s surrounded by threats, men who would probably kill to have her. He fears for her, surrounded by so many strangers aching to touch, hold, and do unspeakable things to her. No one touches Sansa. Except Mya, Myranda, and him, and that’s only because she says so. She’s already had far, far too much experience with the unwanted grasps of men. And it’s hardly lost on him that it was the worst of them that started her at this career.

There are too many men in this world who refuse to accept that a smile, a friendly word, a bat of the eyelashes, or a skimpy costume onstage was license for them to take whatever they wish.

Even with the more genteel folks, like the “gentlemen” she’d be entertaining tonight, the sort who knew better than to lay a hand on her, Jon didn’t like them, either. They didn’t care about Sansa, they didn’t love her. They loved flesh, giggles, silk corsetry, a woman being there to please them and nothing more. They love a fantasy. They grin at the high-pitched, childlike giggles she gives off when she glances over her shoulder. They have no idea that when something is actually funny to her, she either throws her head back to release a full, round laugh, or makes a small, hard-edged little snicker. They probably wouldn’t care to hear those. They wanted a woman who made girlish giggles and beckoning eyes at them as if they’d done something witty without actually having to be witty. They want to see her move only in a way designed to please them. She might as well be a prized thoroughbred or one of those talking birds. They know nothing of her, have no thoughts of her beyond the carnal, no interest. Most of these “fine gentlemen” would probably sneak off to the local brothel at some point this week to patronize the redheads. Hell, there’d likely be at least a couple “invitations” from some especially rich, married gentlemen seeking to make her into a conquest and/or mistress.

Jon could watch Sansa perform all day and night, if not for all the strangers watching with him.

And it’s not like that initial bolt of pride lasted long. A far as anyone and everyone knows, he’s her bodyguard. Unattached fellows who see her show are often happy (if nervous) to send her messages, flowers, invitations, and such. Some outright proposition her. There are the ones who considered themselves romantic gentlemen, the ones who, after a single show, come to her lodgings with their hair combed back and flowers clutched to their chest, fall to one knee and ask her to flee her hard, fast-paced, tawdry life to be their bride. Sure, all they know of her is seeing her sway her hips in a satin corset for an hour onstage, but they tell themselves they’re in love, that she’ll fall to their feet because they mentioned a church and surely she wants to give up her whole life to be the Mrs. of a man she just met. Everyone who watches her sees her as for the taking to some degree.

Jon just wants these fools to stop thinking they can have her. Not just because they’re together. Even if they weren’t, even if he saw her as a sister the way he still sees Arya. But because she’s not to be taken, or had. No could have her. They could only be chosen by her. And these men did not understand that. They thought to possess her, if only for an hour or so. Like she’s a thing.

Sansa’s not a thing. Jon doesn’t possess her. She’s chosen him. And it’s a grand thing. Jon wishes they knew that. Because often, the only thing that will keep a man from thinking he can have a lady is if she already “belongs” to another man. Sure, Sansa doesn’t belong to him, but he is her fellow, and if some of these louts knew that, they’d set some true boundaries. There’d be no “dinner invitations” and unsolicited parcels of chocolate or jewelry that were really just intended unofficial payments for a “private show” she’s never offered. Not if they knew the ManHunter with the Wolf was her beau.

There’s some selfishness to it, too. Sansa pours so much of herself into her show. It’s her life. It’s her art. Her livelihood. It’s the thing Littlefinger pushed her into to try and make her his pawn that she turned into independence and expression. She has so much love and passion for her performances. And Jon can’t help but wish that some of that could be for him, not for a bunch of ignorant voyeurs.

It’s not that he doubts her love for him, of course. Gods, what they have is exquisite. Despite the artistry Sansa devotes to her work, it’s still artifice, still a show. But with him, she’s given her true self, and all the courage required for it. She gives him something that she’s given no one.

She’d never seek out Baelish to bring him to justice with anyone else. Only Jon. She’d never whisper her greatest fears, the reasons she’s so afraid to do so, to anyone but him. She’d never throw herself into an embrace so fearlessly and joyfully for anyone but him. And the way she knows him so well. Sometimes, it’s like she can read his mind. Sansa fears connecting with anyone, after everything that has happened. Men especially. She would fear knowing someone so well, getting attached enough to learn so much. But she puts that fear aside to know him.

Still, though…

Jon watches as the patrons settle themselves in, perusing the leather-bound menus and uttering hushed orders to white-vested waiters. The time is nearing. Laden plates and full glasses start coming out. Jon observes with some interest as waiters mount stepladders and start dimming the candles and lamps. This place really is top-rate. Meanwhile, lights go up on the closed plum curtain. As the lights dim, so does the chatter. The band strikes up a rendition of… something. Jon doesn’t recognize it. Something new? When had the girls composed a new song?

It’s very grand, though, almost like one of those operas Mrs. Stark used to drag them to.

Sansa deserves it.

Finally, the curtains part, and the audience gives an initial pause. The stage is made up to look like a lady’s boudoir, but it’s not the usual set they use. That one is all red velvet-esque, with an oriental dress screen. But this… This is all powder blue, dove-grey and white. There is a dressing table, and a couple of comfortable-looking arm chairs. There’s a dress screen, but, like the background and the coverings on the prop furniture it resembles…

...Winterfell. It looks like one of the grand family chambers at Winterfell.

They’d really brought out all the stops for the San Francisco Stage Port.

The first glimpse they get of the star are her fingertips, appearing around the edge of the white dress screen. She utters a high note. “Ooooh….”

She turns the corner and reveals herself. “I’m not a girl to stay put/Some say I’ve lost my home/I said the same myself/But then I didn’t know.”

The costume isn’t entirely new, just reworked. It’s a satin bustle gown of satin that used to be red, but had been dyed blue. It’s a high-formal number that she usually dons at the end of her “getting ready for the ball” number, with a wide neckline and short sleeves. She’s got long, white satin gloves and a matching wrap about her shoulders. Her hair is piled high atop her head, woven with white roses. She looks like an angel.

“When I set out on my own/I swear I never knew/that home could be a someone….” She trails off and turns. The music stills. Jon watches, amazed and a little nervous. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was facing towards him.

“And that someone---” She points, towards him, but not at him, surely, “Is---” Why was there a light glaring down on him all of a sudden? “You!”

The band kicks up again, but while their tempo is suddenly rambunctious, their volume is low enough for Sansa to cry out over them.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, forgive me, but this is a very special night, you see!” A spotlight follows her as she moves to the far end of the stage and start descending the staircase there. She comes towards him. She takes his hand, then clutches his cheek, whispers ‘Happy Birthday’, then starts dragging him up on stage.

Jon suddenly finds himself in front of what seem like an infinite number of very elegant people who had not asked him to be there.

“My friends,” Sansa announces, beaming, “I’d like you all to meet someone very, very special, my wonderful husband, Captain Jon Stark Targaryen!”

Jon looks at her, suddenly feeling a bit dazed. Husband? They aren’t married. Not that he’s opposed to the arrangement. It’s just that her constant deflections whenever he proposed such a thing had given him the impression that she was.

There is some muffled confusion, but the audience does cheer, especially the ladies. Jon takes an awkward bow.

“You’ll have to forgive my old ball and chain. He’s not used to the spotlight.” The first big laugh of the night.

“And forgive me for hiding him away from the world like I have. But be honest, ladies,” she says with an arched brow and a display gesture, “If this was your man, wouldn’t you want to keep him all to yourself?”

There are cheers of approval, the sort one would never, ever expect from respectable, high-society wives.

“But I had to bring him onstage, as I wanted to give him a very special present on his birthday. His first since we got married. You see, Jon and I have known each other our whole lives. We grew up together. But, misfortune befell my family, we lost everything, including the house I was born and raised in, and our lives pulled us apart for many, many years.”

Jon looks at Sansa curiously. This is all true.

“As a performer, my work requires me to wander, never settle down. I was fine with that, because after losing everything, I figured I’d never have a home again, so I might as well not even try. But, against all odds, one day this rugged, kind-eyed, callous-handed bounty hunter walked back into my life and not only did I find him again, but I found home again, too. Our work keeps us on the road, always, but home isn’t a place. It’s a way of life. It’s love, safety, and happiness. So while I’ll probably never see my mother’s garden or my father’s study again, I’m home, riding through the American West, traveling from place to place with my wonderful, darling Jon.”

She turns to him and cups his cheek. She kisses him, and the audience applauds. Jon’s heart beats a million times a second. He tries to blink back tears as he embraces his… well, his bride, he supposes. They’ll have to get in and out of the church discreetly, perhaps, but they’ll manage.

When she pulls back, he thinks that’s the end of it. But the music gets louder and faster, Sansa grabs his arms and smirks. First at him, then at the audience.

She starts pushing him upstage. Jon finds himself falling backward into an armchair. Sansa dances about the chair, getting behind him and massaging his shoulders.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that with the show, I haven’t had time to give my man a proper celebration. We’re busy folk, see. Me drawing in the respectable, him rustling up the guilty. And sometimes, well, I feel my man gets a little cheated. You all get to see me in all my under-Sunday Best, but when the curtain closes and we come together for married life, well, let’s just say in private, I go more for comfort than glamor. But for his birthday, I’d like to delight my man in all my glory. At my most beautiful. Now, don’t get too shocked,” she assures them all, including him, “I’m not about to give the sheriff a reason to come calling, or scandalize any of you good people… too much… Even for a showgirl like me, there are some aspects of private life and duty that stays private. Most of my wifely duties stay behind the curtain. But I’m sure family folk like yourselves won’t begrudge us a little preamble. Indeed, I’d say that after my darling here, this show tonight is for the ladies in the audience.” She winks. “Give you some ideas to try out yourselves. Show those husbands of yours you at your most beautiful--- even if they don’t deserve it, they’ll make themselves worthy.”

She spins around the chair again and plops into his lap. He swallows.

“You don’t mind, do you, Handsome?”

He breathes. Sansa looms over him, practically glowing. The lights are really bright and the audience is so dark and seems so far away. Like they’re not even there. But they are there. The men in the audience… There’s a real boundary now. They’re fading away beyond the glow, beyond her. They know. She’s just a performer on a stage, not to be had. Not even performing for them so much as performing for their wives and… for him. Because he’s her Fella, her one and only. The only one she’ll have. No one touches her. No one but him.

That fleeting tremor of pride hits him, but this time, it’s not fleeting. It burns within him. He grins. All this. She’s done all this for him. Claimed him before her greatest audience ever.

Every yearning he’s harbored in secret, she’s satisfying all at once without him saying a word. She just knew. She always knows.

Still… There is… One concern. He clasps the sides of her waist and pulls her back towards him. She squeals. The audience laughs.

Jon whispers.

“Darling, if you’re really going to do what I think you’re going to do, erm, I fear that I might end up… overcome in a way not fit for public viewing.”

“I’ve thought of that,” she whispers, “And don’t worry, I’ll pace it out a bit. You’ll only be on until intermission. And all you have to do is sit and enjoy the show.”

“Erm, okay.”

She pulls herself up again and grins at the audience. “And to think, all of you fine folks in the front row thought you got the best seat in the house!”

More laughter. Sansa rises from his lap and strides forward. She undoes her little wrap and tosses backwards. It lands right in his lap.

“Now, I think I was in the middle of a song?”

The music changes again, reverting back to that gentle melody from the beginning.

“I’ve grown too big for Papa’s arms/But I’m just right for yours…”

Sansa turns, still facing the audience, but still looking at him, and she sings like one of those ‘divas’ from the operas Mrs. Stark used to drag them to. Except Jon isn’t bored. He’s drawn in, because she’s singing to him, for him. Her song about finding home with him.

“I hear the laughter of those we lost/And they don’t seem so lost anymore…”

And gods…. It’s so beautiful, because she sings in a way that Jon suspects she’s always wanted to. She sings with her heart as much as with her lungs. Singing words just for him, to a melody just for him. Dressed as she is, singing as she is, she seems like the lady her mother always wanted her to be. Despite the fact that this whole number is orchestrated by her, Jon somehow feels like he’s given her something. But how? How could he of all people inspire something like this?

When she finishes, he’s crying. He’s never felt so cherished. So lucky. So blessed. There’s loud applause. Sansa pulls a handkerchief from her skirts and buries her face in it for a while. But, eventually, she looks up again, straight out at the crowd. Jon can tell by their reactions that she’s wearing a smirk and a mischievous raised eyebrow.

“And now, what you’ve been waiting for!” The music rises again into a walloping dance beat. Lots of horns. Sansa begins to shake. She leans forward so that her respectable-looking ball gown suddenly seems a bit more scandalous, and slowly begins pulling off her right glove.

“I get lots of boys and men/all with the same question/They see the silk and hear me sing/and think I’ll want a ring/You all may wonder/With how I wander/And how I cut them loose/Just what made me choose?/Just what made me pick this man?/Well I’ll tell you if I can…”

She’s free of the glove and turns to shimmy towards him. Their eyes meet. She sweeps over him, leaning over his shoulder and stroking his cheek. “He’s got a smile/ that makes the sun look dim/Just how good he looks/when he goes for a swim/..”

She removes the other glove and runs it along his face before dropping it. This song is ridiculous and adorable and absolutely ridiculous, but true. She belts out a line about him always lending a helping hand as she places the end of one of her gown laces between his fingers, then does a little rhythmic march forward. As designed, that one lace being tugged is enough to make it all come loose. The bodice begins to drop down her torso, and she pretends to be shocked for half a second before grinning again and slowly letting it fall around her hips.

Sansa backs up and tugs at the sash under her bustle. The waist of her dress comes loose and her skirts pool at her feet. She bends over, and Jon finds that her glorious backside, bedecked with beaded fringe, is inches from his face. Then it’s in his lap and his face is pushed between her breasts as she finishes the last few lines. It’s only once the last note is done that she pulls him up for air again and kisses him deep.

They’re gasping by the time they’re done. Sansa fans herself.

Jon is hard as the Rocky Mountains. She leans over and whispers in his ear. “I sort of lied when I said you just had to sit.”

“Mmmm…” He says, not entirely recovered. He tries to focus. “What?”

“When the song finishes, I need you to get up, throw me over your shoulder, and carry me backstage. Can you do that?”

“I was probably going to do that anyways.”

She slinks off his lap and sings a coy song about constructing a humble homestead with her pioneer man that is, in fact, not at all about constructing a humble homestead with a pioneer man, no matter how much she goes on about hammering and driving nails into wood or how excited she is to open her gates to him when he returns every evening. She mimes some of her ‘homemaking’, as it were. She ends on a big highnote, which Jon takes as his cue. Not at all faking the desperate passion he displays, he grabs her and tosses her over his shoulder. She squeals and the curtains close.

Myranda and Mya hurry out of the wings, but Jon sends them backing away with a look.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

Sansa blows the audience a few kisses as the curtains close and laughs. “Okay, Jon, you can put me down now!”

“I could, but I’d rather not,” he says, a rough undercurrent to his tone as he continues to carry her down the right wings. Sansa feels a fluttering in her stomach and catches Mya’s eye. She grins.

She’d been so nervous about this. Most of her told her that her instincts were right. But her self-doubt was always present. Maybe he’d hate it, be humiliated, refuse. He’s not a showman. But she’s watched him as she’s performed. She’s observed the way he scowls whenever she admonishes him to restrain himself in public, how jealous he gets, how sullen he sometimes is. The longing in his eyes during the shows.

Thank gods she was right. She can tell by the way he’s discreetly stroking her inner thigh as he marches her backstage towards her dressing room. Thank gods the Stage Port provided a chaise. It would be a long intermission. A long, glorious intermission.

Her heart skips a beat when he kicks the door closed behind them so it really slams. Slams in a way that tells everyone within a hundred yards that that door would stay slammed until he opened it again.

She’s so wet she fears her bloomers might stain permanently. It was so hard to focus onstage, especially when she sat in his lap and felt just how overcome he really was.

Sansa squirms over his shoulder, hoping, praying that he’ll----

---Yes! He flips her over and throws her down onto the chaise like she’s nothing, looming over her with heated eyes. Sansa arches her back, hands above her head. She’s so happy she chose to wear tear-away underthings. She suspected that it might be necessary.

But Jon doesn’t take advantage of it at once. Oh no, his fingers slip down between her legs and he strokes her through the satin. Sansa thrusts against his hand, on fire. She tugs at the stupid tuxedo jacket that the venue’s dress code demanded of anyone not specifically paid to dance in impractical underthings, desperate to feel his rippling muscles and sweat-slicked skin against her bare fingertips.

She gets his shirt off, but he still strokes her through the satin. So good, but so cruel. Not enough, not enough!

“Please, Jon. The costume is tear-away!” She whispers.

He pulls away from her, eyes like hot coals, and sits up. She whimpers from the lack of contact until he grabs her by her waist with both hands and sets her on her feet in front of him.

“Is that so?” He says gruffly. “You really had every bit of this planned. So what you’re saying is, I just need to pull this and---”

He tugs, and the top part of her corset falls open so more of her cleavage spills out. She gives a mock-squeal and pretends to cover the space between her breasts. Jon grins and tugs at another lace. The corset falls open further. Sansa keeps pretending (poorly, she’s grinning), to be scandalized when Jon reaches for the two unjoined edges at the center of her garment and yanks them apart. The whole thing falls away. Sansa catches her breasts just in time, flexed fingers over each nipple.

“And these?” He asks, reaching each hand towards a lace on either side of her bloomers. They come apart and the front flops down, exposing her soaking sex. She gives another squeal and reaches to cover herself. Jon takes her fingertips in his mouth and sucks on them, gazing up at her as he releases them and moves his mouth to her cunny.

She comes apart in his mouth in no time at all, flying high. The sound of him undoing his belt brings her back. Seconds later, he’s thrusting her onto her back again, then thrusting into her. Sansa moans, nearly howls. When they’re done, she’ll probably be mortified by what the staff may have heard, but not now. She wants them to hear!

He pushes into her hard and fast, then grabs her again. Jon gets to his feet, then bends her over the back of the chaise, taking her from behind. He gives her backside a good smack.

“That’s for taking me at unawares,” he moans, then bends over to kiss her cheek tenderly. “That’s for making me your husband.”

Sansa luxuriates in the kisses he lavishes on her cheek, ears, and neck. She reaches a second peak and when she does, Jon starts going faster. He grips her breasts so, so hard as he slows his pace but increases his force, spilling within her with a strangled cry and faltering juts of his hip.

Jon practically crumbles away from her, and Sansa spills back onto the seat, gasping and smiling. She reaches over the edge of the seat and tugs him towards her. He climbs up on top of her and they embrace.

After a while, though, they start to remember where they are and what’s going on. Jon reluctantly peels himself off of her and starts tugging his tuxedo back on. Sansa remains on her back, watching him.

“The show must go on,” she murmurs tragically.

“If you like, I’ll carry you off the stage for the finale as well,” he offers.

She suddenly feels the drive to get up again, and winks. “I’ll see you when the curtain goes up.”

He kisses her again, then shuffles out.

Feeling rather brazen, Sansa remains as she is as Mya and Myranda shuffle in. Myranda lets out a whistle.

“There should be a real spring in your step for Act II, I think.”

#jonsasmutweek #jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #day one

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professorlaytonparallels-blog · 7 years ago

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Design Trivia from The World of PL! (Bill Hawks and Clive)

‘I made sure to give that “Professor Layton” series flavour while maintaining a certain level of realism. As a result, Hawks is not one of the more interesting or silly characters, but he definitely looks like he could be based on someone from the real world.’ - Nagano

To this day, I still have never met someone in real life with Carl Fredricksen’s cube-shaped face...

Carl from Pixar’s Up is one of my all-time favourite movie characters. Why? Because he’s a cranky old curmudgeon who flies off in a balloon house. He’s about as square as they come, but he has such a well-rounded personality. He becomes bitter after his beloved Ellie dies, but moves on and becomes a better person despite this. And he’s hilarious.

I love how Pixar can take human characters and make them look so... cartoony? (Incredibles, Up, Ratatouille etc.) They’re a lot like Level 5 in that respect. There are some exceptions, like during Toy Story 3 and Inside Out, where the humans are meant to appear less zany than Andy’s Toys or Riley’s emotions.

Bill Hawks is a Level 5 character that’s meant to look more ‘realistic’, which makes sense, given that he’s a politician. But unlike Andy or Riley, we’re not meant to care about him one bit. Okay, so are we meant to see him as a threat, like the rotoscoped humans in WALL-E? In a way that warns us of what mankind could become? No..?

I love how Nagano outright admits that Bill wasn’t meant to be an interesting character. You’re probably rolling your eyes and asking, Why does it even matter? It doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme of the game. Bill Hawks isn’t the final villain we have to save London from. That’s Clive.

As far as PL villains go, Clive doesn’t have a very... extravagant design either. He doesn’t get a feather boa and cape like Descole. He doesn’t have Don Paolo’s ridiculous nose. Bronev’s hair is much spikier. Even Randall has his Masked Gentleman disguise! Clive, however, has something Bill Hawks doesn’t have.

A pretty face.

...Plus, a backstory, interesting motives, and a cunning mind. Honestly, though, making Future Luke ‘handsome’ is something Nagano emphasises when talking about his design. I think Future Luke’s design, though a facade, is much more interesting than Clive’s design. I know all he did was take off his cap, but it’s the thought he put into the Future Luke getup that made it so interesting. It was fun comparing older Luke to his younger counterpart - how could happy-go-lucky Luke become so serious in ten years? What did Future Layton do to turn Luke against him? Of course, those question can’t truly be answered, because Future Luke is a fake.

Clive may not look as flashy as the other villains, but he certainly has the evil laugh, the tendency to cause wanton destruction, and the sad backstory. Guess to doesn’t get a sad backstory?

That’s the one thing that probably sets Bill apart in the PL universe, and I guess, makes him more ‘realistic’. As far as we’re told, he just went ahead with the time machine experiment for money. He isn’t left scarred or amnesiac from the accident. He just... oh, goes on to become Prime Minister. A scientist, working in a lab above an apartment block, goes on to become Prime Minister in ten years. I know he became stinking rich, but HOW did that happen?!

We never find out, which really doesn’t matter amidst the overwhelming feels fest that is Lost Future. Bill’s just an *sshole, and sometimes life gives you *ssholes. They don’t even need a reason for being *ssholes. It really hammers home how bleak the ending of the third game is. All we get is that line from Chelmey about criminals not being the only ones who are blind.

(Once again, I hope this post hasn’t been overly critical of Nagano’s designs. Many of these are his designs, so he can do what he likes at the end of the day, and we should respect his creative choices. But at the same time, there’s nothing wrong with discussing these designs or hoping for more diversity in the Layton series.)

#professor layton #professor layton parallels #crossover parallels #carl fredricksen #up #Pixar #bill hawks #design triivia #clive dove #World of Professor Layton #nagano #lost future #spoilers #*places post on the ground and edges away*

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blog-optimisticcoffeestuden-blog · 7 years ago

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Elkin North Carolina Cheap car insurance quotes zip 28621

"Elkin North Carolina Cheap car insurance quotes zip 28621

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I have an 08 Toyota Corolla S and my dad has a 95 Toyota Pickup. I'm 19 and we're under the same policy with AAA. Would it make a difference in cost if they put me as the driver of the Corolla as opposed to the Pickup? If so about how much? Currently I'm with the Pickup and my dad's with the Corolla.

Car insurance claim but no MOT?

my partner had a crash today and it was totally the other persons fault as my parter was indicating to turn right and some idiot tried to overtake him on the right , hitting his side. the police said not probs its totally the other persons fault and we claim off his insurance not ours but when the police checked the car they discoved the mot ran out a month ago, my partner explained we though we had updated it and they were fine about , prob believed us as we had tax and insurance, they dont worry just tell your insurance about the crash. i know car insurance is not vaild but surely its okay if its only the other person paying out? car in the garage and does not seem to be any probs so far......do you think we will be ok, it really was a genuine over sight""

Around how much would car insurance be if im under 21?

Like if i go under my parents insurance, how much more would it be? Thanks :)""

How much would insurance cost for a 16 yr old female?

I'm 16 & getting a 2010 Nissan Maxima. Don't tell me not to get it because I'll wreck or trash it. I learned how to drive when I was 12 and I drove all the time when I got my permit. I'm not going to trash it at all. All I need to know if how much insurance might be. A rough estimate because I know everywhere is different. Some few details: I'm 16, a female, straight A student, and really responsible. Thanks.""

Why Are We Not Reducing Health Care Costs?

The U.S. currently spends 50% more per capita on health care than the next western nation (Norway). On average we spend twice as much as France, Germany, Austria, Netherlands, Canada, and Switzerland. Our costs are increasing faster than these nations. According to the Congressional Budget Office the cost of Obamacare is an additionsl $1.76 trillion over ten years. For those who want to actually solve the universal health care problem, how about adopting one of the European plans noted above and cut our costs by 50%. Why the blind devotion to a bureauratic morass that will bankrupt the country? http://www.kff.org/insurance/snapshot/oecd042111.cfm""

Cheapest auto insurance in Florida??

Just moved and need some ideas for shopping around for the cheapest auto insurance in Florida.

Does anyone know the best way to get insurance leads?

i'm looking for a way to get insurance leads, I would rather own software myself as appose to paying for an individual leads, can anyone tell me the name of a some good software? thanks in advance!""

Car Insurance for a 19 yr old male?

I'm going to be buying an black 03 Cadillac CTS and I was wondering about how much my insurance would be. I've been driving since I was 16 with no tickets or wrecks. Can anyone give me at least an estimate on what it might cost? I will be using it mostly to drive back and fourth to work.

""What are the insurance range for a CBR600RR, beginner drive with 5 years of ecxcellent SUV driving expereinces

I live in So. Cal and want to purchase the CBR600RR (06-08 model) how much insurance should I expect to pay for this car?

Can a tourist in california could get a health insurance in this state?

i'm a tourist here and 2 months pregnant i'm planning to give birth here in california.

Is there any free dental insurance in CA?

Car insurance?

Ok so i just passed my driving test so now im gonna get a car soon, what car insurance is the best for someone whos my age (21)?""

""If you have Amica car insurance, how much does 1 speeding ticket cost you?""

I live in Massachusetts. Have a perfect driving record but now I'm charged with 1 speeding ticket. How much more in insurance premiums will it cost me if I plead guilty? It's a regular speeding ticket, not DUI or wreckless driving. THanks""

400 dollars a month for car insurance that is CRAZY?!?

I went on a website that gives you a free estimated quote for how much insurance would cost, I completed drivers ED and it is still about 400 monthly or 5000 yearly for an old crappy car! My dad called his insurance company to add me on to his truck and that is 80 monthly or 1000 yearly but he is never home so it would be pointless to get added on to him. I need a car to get to a from work since I live 20 minutes out of town. How do they expect young drivers to afford that? What did you pay when you first got your license? I'm female & 17""

What kind of car for cheapest insurance?

I'm 23

Cheap car insurance for 20 year old?

im new to this im 20 getting my license in ont canada and need insurance i am very cheap will be buying a car 500-700$ and want the cheapest insurance possable il fix my own car if its possible i just want to be legal cause insurance is ridiculous ty everyone

How much does insurance cost and hoe much does licencse/registration cost?

plz hurry and answer

Elkin North Carolina Cheap car insurance quotes zip 28621

Can I sue an insurance company if?

If the insurance company is putting stress on me and with holding information from me.It was their client who hit my vehicle he was cited a ticket. for being left of center he was flying down the road in a double yellow zone traffic was stopped 2 lanes and he had to go around them in order to hit me.He has a witness and he and his so called witness are saying that I pulled out of a lot that I was never in.Lucky for me I kept my proff of purchase.and they even have me on camera with the traffic stopped.Anyway his insurance company is treating me like I am a criminal and will not tell me anything.Which in turn is really stressing me out.So can I sue if I want to .I did try to be nice but his agent really makes me angry and stresses me out.I am just wore out from dealing with her.

""I have AETNA insurance full coverage, and my hospital bill is $42,519, will my insurance pay all of it???""

i was in a sever car accident, lost control hit a tree. and my hospital bill is $42,519, for only 5 days in the hospital. No broken bones, no surgies. i only had a minor head concussion, and a few bruises. i have AETNA full coverage insurance and i am a full time college student. now will aetna pay all of the hospital bills..or do i have to pay some. im really confused.""

On an application for car insurance does having the use of other vehicles increase or decrease the quote?

I'm filling in an insurance comparison and it asks if I have the use of other vehicles, I can drive my dad's but does it make it more or less expensive?""

Who is the cheapest auto insurance?

who is the cheapest auto insurance for adult male driver in southern cal. last ticket was about 7 years ago. thx

Can I my Dad's car without being on his insurance?

I am a 17yr old student living with my parents and i have just passed my driving test. Everyone keeps saying i can drive my Dad's car once he is in the passenger seat, but i am not sure. My dad has insurance on his car, but i am not a named driver. So can i drive my dad's car if he his in the passenger seat, without being named on his policy.""

How much will a speedping ticket raise my car insurance in California?

Hi, Last night I got my first speeding ticket ever. I am a 18 year old male. The officer claims I was going 84 but I dont believe him because he said he lasered me at 1am and usually I am under 80mph. Anyways, If I go to court and do drivers school and remove this ticket, what will happen to my insurance rate? I have all state.""

What value car would you recommend Comprehensive insurance?

What value car would you recommend moving from Third Party Fire + Theft insurance to Comprehensive Insurance?

How much would car insurance cost for a 17 year old female? More info provided?

I will be 17 yrs old when I get my intermediate license, which I will then have for 1 yr before I can get my full license. I'm looking for a general insurance quote for a 17 year old female in Iowa (does this have any bearing on the amt my parents pay). Also, I have about B average, but I'm taking AP classes if that makes a difference. I don't have a job but I will have an unpaid internship this summer (does this make a difference?). Both my mom and dad have one ticket each, but that's about it, they're both very careful drivers. I will also have taken a drivers ed course (reqd in my state). I'm also looking at purchasing either a 1998 BMW 528I or a 1998 BMW 740IL as both are under $5000 w/o taxes but if anyone can give me an estimate as to the total cost of both of these cars (after taxes, gas, insurance, etc) that would be fantastic. If any more info is needed let me know.""

Car insurance question....?

I had full coverage on my 01 honda civic coupe. Fixed up but i know insurance wont give a rats. ***. My question is, if it is totaled and my car had full coverage. How much would i get from them? i tried going to kelly blue book. But i don't know if insurance goes by retail, or dealer quote or what... If u can answer give u all the pnts for best answer.""

Wife was rear ended and i have no insurance we live in illinois and car insurance is required?

My wife was on her way home from work and was stoped at a stoplight when a car hit her from behind and we have no insurance but witness reports say the other lady is at fault will my truck be fixed by her insurance

""What is the best learner motorcycle, cheap on insurance and good quality?""

I am looking to learn how to ride a motorcycle and am looking for a bike that is easy to learn, cheap to run, cheap on insurance and a good ride. Are older bikes cheaper? Are some brands better on insurance than others? Thanks.""

""Roughly, How much do you think my car insurance will cost?""

I'm getting my license when I turn 18 in may, I'm prob. gonna have a honda, or an ultima.. i live in raleigh. nc that is.. this will be my first time getting my license.. i work at walmart(if that matters) make 9.00 and hour.. i didn't take drivers ed i never had a permit.. how much do you think it's gonna cost me??.. and also.. would it be cheaper if i get on my moms insurance???""

I'm 21 years old and i work full time&i live at home with my parents&im pregnant what benefits do i get?

Life insurance question?

lets say i want ten policy's worth 750,000 each why would this be a problem as long as u had the money to pay the Premium and you tell each company the truth.....""

CAR INSURANCE - how can I insure my car in a California so my son can drive it even though I live in Florida ?

PROBLEM I own a car that my son drives. He lives in California and will have a California drivers liscense there. I live in Florida. what do I do. The car obviouslyt is in California as well.

Affordable insurance w/ NO deductible and low premium?

I need you to tell me names of insurance not quote sites cuz they don't help. i need one for 2 ppl a mom and daughter. it shouldnt have a deductable or be more that 200 monthly.

Please explain what comprehensive car insurance means.?

I bought a car with no tax road and no mot and no insurance.?

hi there. iam one of the unlucky driver in london , i have bought car from acution few days a ago and i was driving it from biritsh car acution to garage where my mechanic can have look at it. i was in my way to garage and some one carshed in my car, police where there and i asked for my info and i give it to them, i have said everything as i am saying it to u guys. i just bought car didnt have time for insurance and mot and tax road im in my way to mot station where i can get one, and they toke my info and drive off. as i have been moved from my perviuos address i didnt got any letter from them which i meant to be in court, now i have other letter which shows i have to be in court by 27 march, i just wana know, what will happen and im i gona get any points and how much fine?? is there any prison for it ,, please help me is so important ,this matter is playing with my life at the moment ?""

Car insurance... Who are you insure with/best quotes. Will choose quick best answer.?

Who is the cheapest insurance company o go with for a 20 year old male whom has been driving for 3 years. Getting insure on a mazda 6. Thank you

Why is car insurance for girls cheaper than for guys??

funny.. Each time i notice a careless/reckless driver, its a female.""

How much should i expect to pay for car insurance?

im 20/ male/ new driver/ will be driving a used, regular, good condition, non-sport-car sedan, or something of like/ and in los angeles ca thanks""

How much will health insurance costs rise in your state?

Our attorney general says Ohio's will be over 80%.

Insurance for seized cars..?

Okay my Boyf was driving his dads car to mine and thought he could use it under third party. He's only driving it cos his da is on holiday an he needs to drive it around. Anyway on the way over he got pulled over by the cops and they found out he wasn't insured. Therefore they seized his car. But after phoning up the insurance company he found out the car itself wasn't insured and his dads insurance expired a few months ago. Therefor the car is in the compound with no insurance and his current insurance company won't let him insure the car for anyone if it's been seized. But to get the car out, they need valid insurance to retrieve the car. So what can he do?""

Health insurance for someone under 25 in Georgia?

I was told today that there is a new law in GA that states that if you are under 25 (whether a full- time student or not), that you can stay under your parents insurance. Is this true? If so, when does it take effect?""

Finding information about monthly payments?

I am currently looking to move out of my parents house and get an apartment with a friend of mine that is 45 mins away from my hometown. I am a sophmore in college and I would like to have the experience of living on my own for a couple years near my parents before I move thousands of miles away after college for my career plans. Now I am looking into my costs and spendings on living on my own. But the problem is I really don't want to talk to my parents about this until I get it all planned out. But I need to find out how much my car insurance, health insurance, life insurance, car payments (if there is still any), cellphone bill...and other expenses that I need to find out on a monthly basis to get an idea of what it will cost for me to live on my own because my parents pay majority of everything for me and I just been working and saving money for this opportunity to live on my own with a roommate or two or three (maybe). How can I find out this information when the expenses are not in my name but in my parents name? And without my parents finding out that I am looking at all this? Thank you!""

Elkin North Carolina Cheap car insurance quotes zip 28621

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