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[xsammei-her-belovedberyl]

📸💗💗💗

私のかっこいい夫~♡

[cherrycranes]

Real Cowgirls Ride (Emmett x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Emmett (A Quiet Place 2) x Fem!Reader Summary: When you go to a bar in upstate New York with your girlfriends for a bachelorette party, you encounter a hot rugged man who´ll teach you how to ride like a real cowgirl. Word count: 4,248 Contents: (Minors DNI). No apocalypse AU. Age gap (Reader is 24, Emmett is 39), Oral sex (fem receiving), a little bit of ass licking (fem receiving), fingering, P in v, protected sex! Author's notes: Once more, a collab with @fuckiingloser cause that's my wifey. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Enjoy the ass licker.

It was the first time you ever stepped a foot in this rural upstate New York town. Certainly an interesting choice for a bachelorette party, but your friend: the bride, and her future husband had grown up here. It was nice, though. A very appreciated change of scenery from your busy downtown New York City life. It had been a 3 hour drive to get here, and you planned to just have a good time.

The party had a cowgirl theme and you had gone all out: a borrowed pair of red cowgirl boots that you had never imagined wearing in your life, a pair of dangerously tiny Daisy Duke jean shorts and a white cropped t-shirt that said “Budweiser” across the front. All topped with a matching cowboy hat sitting on top of your head. Your girlfriends showered you with compliments, you played the part so well.

It was around 11:30 pm now, and after several stops of the bar crawl, you all walked into a smoky, dark dive bar. The neon signs gave the entire room a dull glow. It was moderately full, mostly with old blue collar men tired from a long day's work. Some of them gave your group a few stares that only your tipsy state managed to ignore. You had come here for fun, and that’s what you would have. 

You got a big table, ordered some drinks and shots and cheered for the bride, wishing her all the best with the love of her life. And, in secret, you hopelessly wished that you would find yours too… You were painfully single at 24 and your only one previous boyfriend had cheated on you after a year of dating. You were still young but loneliness stung.

To distract yourself, you ordered a few more shots and just went along with the vibe of the bar and your friends’ laughter. Some moments later, you wandered over to the old school jukebox that sat alone on a dark corner to flip through the endless pages of song options. Some you knew, some you didn’t, and one you picked before a rugged voice behind you interrupted you:

“Excuse me, miss...” You turned to look. “I just have to have a look at these fancy red cowgirl boots up close...” The man in front of you said with a charming little smirk and with his baby blue eyes looking down at your feet, then at your legs, your body and, eventually, meeting your eyes. 

You looked him over too, with his plain white t-shirt, blue wrangler jeans, dusty work boots, scruffy beard with a few silver strands in it and a ball cap with some brown curls peeking out underneath it. Quite handsome. His little excuse to come over and talk to you was pathetic but cute, it had made you smirk a little. And when you looked into his beautiful eyes and saw that pretty smile again, you decided to give him a shot.

“Honestly… My buddies over there were givin’ me a hard time and said that I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t say something to the pretty girl in the red cowboy boots...” He gestured over to his friends in the booth in the other corner who gave you a wave and smile. You turned back to look at him, and gave yourself the luxury of eyeing him up and down again. He was definitely older than you, but not exactly old enough to be your father. He must have been in his early 40’s at most. He was sort of rugged, most likely a blue collar man. Some tattoos poked out from under the sleeve of his t-shirt. He was not the type of guy you were used to encountering in New York City. “I'm Emmett..” He smirked, and you chuckled a bit at his words.

“Hate to break the news but I borrowed these from a friend… I’m not a real country girl.” You admitted with a smile. Emmett laughed softly and leaned against the almost forgotten jukebox.

 “Well… They look good on you either way… That’s for sure…” He looked over your body once more, shameless infatuation irradiating from him. His boldness made you smile again, and admittedly, it also turned you on. Like clockwork, the first notes of the song you picked started to play and Emmett gave you an approving smile.

“Good choice… You’ve got good taste obviously… Would you like to dance, beautiful?” He asked, his voice like velvet in your ears. You felt a sweet heat rush to your cheeks and you nodded.

“I'd like that.” You smiled and he took your hand with a gentleness that was to die for, pulling you closer and wrapping his strong arms around your waist. In return, you wrapped your arms around his neck and followed him along. Butterflies flew in your stomach like they hadn’t in so long when his arms tightened around you.

You chatted a little, dancing slowly in the middle of the dive bar with his rough hands rubbing the exposed skin of your back. In the background of the slow song, you could make out the voices and giggles of your friends who must have been staring in amusement and support. 

In between the small conversations and the dance, you found out Emmett owned a farm nearby. Mostly horses and some crops. You also found out he was 39 years old. Never married, currently single. Then it came time for questions about your life, your work, your age, where were you from…

“Ahh, so you’re a city girl, makes sense… Never seen someone as hot as you around here before...” Emmett whispered, still swaying with you and still holding you tight. You blushed, something not everybody did to you, but there was something about him. His looks, his charm, his rough hands. You couldn't help yourself.

Guided by that feeling, you kept talking. Now telling him about your failed relationship, your cheater ex-boyfriend and your 8 month-long singlehood. Emmett’s brow furrowed upon hearing that.

“Fuckin’ asshole… Who would ever wanna lose you? You need a real man… Not a little immature boy..” He whispered, shaking his head gently and tightening his tattooed arm around you ever so slightly, just for the butterflies in your stomach to go even wilder. 

Your song ended and the jukebox went silent. Emmett immediately asked to buy you a drink, and how would you even say no? Next thing you knew, you were sitting on a barstool with him standing in front of you, a hand on your thigh making you swoon. He leaned over to order, the scent of his almost worn-off cologne sending more heat towards the right places.

“Two miller lites please, thanks.. ” The bartender cracked open two beers and pushed them towards Emmett. He handed you one along with a sly smile, his other hand still on your thigh.

“Well… Cheers to a good night that I'm hoping gets even better.” Emmett held his drink up to yours and clicked them together with a nice melodic sound. 

“Cheers.” You chuckled, arousal pooling in your lower abdomen and burning steady for the entire time you and Emmett talked and flirted in between sips. Some guilt crept up on you at having practically abandoned your girlfriends, but every quick glance towards them made you find them winking and putting their thumbs up. So you focused back on Emmett, laughed at his jokes, touched his arm, gave him your best smile…

“Can’t believe a pretty girl like you is interested in an old man like me.” He rubbed his hand softly on your exposed thigh, and you couldn't help but let out a sincere chuckle.

“You're hotter than any guy I've met in the city by a million honestly… A real man who works with his hands and knows what he wants and isn’t shy about it…” Every word of yours was soaked in a sensual tone and your eyes never looked away from him now. He had the most beautiful pale blue eyes you had ever seen, his pupils were long dilated from looking at you, and they seemed to get even more when he heard you talking like that.

“Well, you sure know how to flatter a guy… I’ve gotta say you’re one of the sexiest things I've ever seen.” Emmett leaned in to whisper into your ear, his lips giving you a featherlight touch. “My hands aren’t the only thing I’m good with…” His warm breath sent a satisfying shiver down your spine. “And I do know what I want… I wanna see what’s underneath this little crop top and these tiny jean shorts…” 

Your breath hitched ever so slightly, the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. His rough hand gripped the soft flesh of your thigh firmly, the sensation, along with his words, going straight to your core and now dampened panties. 

It was 12:45 am now, the clock upon the wall ticked in front of Emmett’s eyes with an eager question. 

“It's getting pretty late… Whaddya say you come home with me tonight… And I can teach you how to ride like a real cowgirl?” He whispered through a seductive smirk, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and effectively making your clit pulse. You bit your lip, took in the pale blue of his eyes and leaned a bit closer.

“You wanna be my teacher?” You asked him, holding his gaze. Emmett nodded before taking a swig of his beer, finishing it and putting it on the bar.

“I'm sure a girl like you could teach an old dog like me a few tricks too…” 

Your smirk turned into a grin before his eyes and your wet pussy fluttered again. God, he was so smooth and beyond sexy. The kind of man you needed.

“Take me home cowboy.” You whispered, ripples of arousal traveling around your body as you watched Emmett pull out his wallet and slap a 20 dollar bill on the counter to cover for your drinks and tip, before taking your hand like a gentleman.

Your girls cheered when they saw you walking out with him, and you so graciously gave them a playful middle finger that made them laugh out loud.

Emmett held the door open for you and all the exposed parts of your body felt the cool summer breeze of the night air. Not for long though, his truck was just a few steps away, and as the gentleman he was, he opened the passenger seat door for you and helped you in. The inside was rather cozy, an air freshener hung from the rear-view mirror along with a, quite fitting, tiny cowboy hat charm. You flicked it with your finger as Emmett got in the driver’s seat. 

“Before we leave...” He started, leaning over the center console. Before you could ask him anything, his lips met yours in a hot, sensual kiss. Inevitably, your hand reached up to touch his beard, and you delighted with the taste of beer and faint mint gum in his mouth.

 “Sorry, I just had to… Couldn’t wait another minute.” He whispered against the softness of your lips, forming a smile. He sat back in his seat and started the truck up, making it roar to life. His left hand held the wheel and his right hand found his new favorite spot: your thigh. Soft rock born from his radio barely made noise as he drove you down the mostly empty country roads to his home nearby. You raised both eyebrows when an old farmhouse and several barns came into view.

“Wow… All this is yours?” You asked softly, admiring the vast space bathed in starlight.

“It is indeed, pretty girl.” Emmett smiled, pulling up next to the house and getting out of his truck, this time helping you out of it, upholding the true gentleman behavior. 

His arm wrapped around you once again, his body warmth fighting for you against the chill summer night’s breeze. You smiled when the front door opened for you and you were the first to step foot inside the cute little farmhouse. It was rather lovely, perhaps too minimally decorated but it was to be expected, he was a 40 year old man living alone. You seemed to be the most feminine thing in this house. 

“I love it… So cozy.” You leaned against the kitchen counter, attracting Emmett to you. His hands found your hips and he looked down at you with that flirtiness that made your pussy wetter. 

“You haven’t even seen the bedroom yet.” He whispered, closer and closer to you until another sensual kiss captured your lips. Your mouth gave his skillful tongue entrance and with a delicious groan he picked you up easily. Your legs wrapped around his hips and his hands supported you by holding your ass. He swallowed a moan from you and walked you both across the house, towards the stairs and into his bedroom. There, he laid you down on his big bed, his lips reluctantly leaving yours for air.

You propped yourself up to your elbows, granting him a visual feast for his eyes to devour. Your exposed midriff, your little shorts and those cute little red boots. Since your cowboy hat had been lost somewhere on the way to his bed, your hair was slightly messy, and your lips glistened from his saliva. He didn’t know where to begin with you. 

“Fuck, you’re sexy…” He admired you, reaching down to pull one of your boots off, then the other one. Both joined his wooden floor. “I need to see this perfect body naked for me…”

You giggled, his hands now occupied themselves with your jean shorts. In a couple of seconds they also met the floor.

“Would ya look at that…” Emmett let out a flirty whistle upon seeing what you hid underneath the denim: a little red thong that made his cock twitch in his jeans, another reminder of how painfully hard he was. His calloused thumb didn’t resist and ran over your clothed pussy, slowly making its way between your folds and marveling at the feeling of the damp fabric. He growled in approval. 

“Someone’s wet…” He looked into your eyes and you felt a rush of blood divide itself to reach both your cheeks and your needy cunt. You bit your lip, your body ablaze.

“Flip over for me, baby… Face down ass up.” He ordered after playing with you over your panties a little bit. You, incredibly turned on and obedient to any sexy command he could throw your way with that deep voice of his, didn’t even think about it twice.

“Yes, Sir.” You played along, flipping over for him with your ass in the air and your cheek against the duvet cover. 

“Fuuuck…” He groaned at the sight. You knew very damn well your little thong was covering absolutely nothing from behind. “I wanna make sure this little pussy is prepped for my lesson…” he said, peeling the thong off you slowly. 

Anticipation pooled at your cunt, the flimsy red fabric left your body with his help. Once you were free, Emmett palmed both your asscheeks and spread them slowly. He moaned at the sight of your glistening pussy and tight asshole, all fully waxed.

“Jesus Fuckin’ Christ…” He breathed out, feeling his heart skip a beat. “I could come just looking at you…” He whispered just inches away from your needy cunt.

You moaned softly at his words, feeling completely exposed yet so turned on. Nothing else could matter to you anymore.

“Please...” You whimpered so needily, he couldn’t resist leaning in and letting his tongue slide between your slippery folds. A guttural groan of his made your pussy reverberate, the taste of you on his tongue so addictive, so divine.

“Oh my god…” Now, you moaned. Emmett’s hot tongue licked a fat stripe from your clit all the way to your ass, flicking against it. The sensation was so good you could barely comprehend it.

“You taste like honey…” He purred to our flesh before spitting on your pussy, his saliva slowly dribbling down between your lips and making him groan in approval. Two of his fingers gathered some of that spit on them before circling your aching hole, slowly pushing inside of you from behind. 

You moaned over and over, his thick fingers pumped in and out of you in a slow but firm motion. He watched hungrily as your tight cunt took them in so easily and so greedily.

 “Fuck… Feels so good…” You spoke in between moans that only got louder when Emmett curled his fingers inside you, hitting that special spot. “Holy fuck…” 

The louder you moaned, the faster his thick fingers moved and curled. Your eager pussy had his index and middle fingers completely wet and glistening.

“That feels good, pretty girl?” He asked with a smirk. “Gotta make sure this little pussy is ready to ride my big cock…” he growled hungrily. 

“I-I’m ready… Please…” His pumping fingers had you bucking your hips in desperation and stuttering, almost out of your mind. Emmett loved every single detail about it, you looked just so beautiful when you were this horny and needy. Mercifully, he pulled his fingers out of your begging cunt and slowly brought them to his mouth, groaning at the taste of you.

“Flip over, baby.” He commanded, the sound of the zipper of his jeans making your ears perk up. You did as he said, catching the glimpse of his pants hitting the floor and his shirt being pulled over his head. He tossed it aside, the view of his toned, hairy chest and arms, along with those sexy tattoos of his made your pussy feel even more needy. Your eyes feasted on him, from his chest to his hard on in his briefs.

“I think you’re ready for your lesson…” Emmett crawled onto the bed and laid on his back, dark curls resting on his pillows. Right away, you sat on your knees, watching the way his arm flexed as he reached over to the side table and opened the drawer. Touch guided his way to a gold wrapper.

“A little help?” He smirked, looking down at his hard cock still tucked in his underwear. You smiled and nodded, your fingers hooking on the gray waistband and gently peeling the fabric down his legs. His big hard cock immediately sprung free for your eyes to devour. A throaty groan resonated from him. It was much bigger than what you had pictured, it was impossible to not stare at it in all its veiny, throbbing glory. 

Emmett ripped open the condom wrapper with his teeth, rolling the latex down his thick cock and looking up at you with a sexy smile.

“You ready to be my cowgirl?” 

Immediately, you snapped out of your trance and nodded.

“Yes, sir…” Your voice came out sweet and so lovely, his hand motioned towards him.

“C’mere, baby…” Emmett cooed and you moved to stand above him. You lowered down slowly on him until your sensitive folds felt the covered tip of his cock, making him groan a little at the friction.

“Mmm, slow baby…” He coached you in a soft voice, putting his hands on your hips and guiding you. “Sink down slowly…” And slowly you did it. His cock slid inside your tight hot ready entrance easily, with all the time in the world. You sank down further, each of your knees on either side of his thighs almost trembling at the stretch. Loud moans escaped you both in unison as you adjusted to him and he adjusted to you. You felt so full, for a second you even doubted if it all could fit, but, as if his cock was designed for your tight little cunt, he fully slid right in with ease. 

“Oh, fuck…” You breathed out, looking into his beautiful eyes through your fluttering eyelashes. “So deep…” Words came in soft whine. Soft, clingy hands supported you by touching his broad, hairy chest. Emmett smirked, a perverted gleam in his eye from watching you adjusting to his thick cock.

“You feel me in here, baby?” He whispered, voice thick and heavy with lust. One of his calloused hands moved from your hip to your lower belly, pressing into your soft flesh and creating an erotic pressure that you could only moan and nod to. You felt him so deeply, all over and inside you.

“You feel so fucking good around me…  So tight and warm. I think this pussy was made to ride my cock.” His voice was low and rough, both hands moved to your hips again, ready to begin.. 

“Now, just go with the flow and get into a good rhythm baby… I’ll help…” He coached you with a sly grin that made your cunt clench around him. He was just so sexy, and he knew and reveled in it. “Just relax and enjoy the ride…” 

After exhaling a needy breath, you started to swivel your hips a bit, riding him slowly. Emmett groaned, his eyes closed in utter pleasure. His hands stayed glued to your hips and guided the slow rhythm your rolling hips set. You both moaned. His hips moved a little under you, encouraging you more and more.

“Look at you cowgirl...” His voice was already a little breathy, his groan took over the last letters of the word “girl”. His cock throbbed inside you at the sight of your pretty tits moving under the Budweiser logo. He helped you out with that, pulling your cropped shirt off your body and hungrily taking in the view of your bare chest as you bounced on his dick.

You moaned more when the tip of his cock hit that deep spot, and the more you spent riding him and earning yourself the title of cowgirl, the more he entertained an idea. 

After a minute or two, Emmett pulled you down, making you chest to chest with him and wrapping his toned arms around you. A searing, sloppy kiss entered your mouth while his hips pistoned from beneath. Your sweet tongue melted into his before he whispered against your lips.

“Now it’s time for you to relax and I'll do all the work baby…” His hoarse voice tickled your skin and he planted his feet on the mattress, gaining the support he needed to immediately pick up the pace and pound into you relentlessly from underneath. No thoughts registered properly in your brain from that point forward, it was all just a hot, wet pool of pleasure. A series of curses left your lips with no particular order and with no respect for anything.  

“Oh-fuck… Oh my fucking god... Fuck!” You cried out into the skin of his neck, the sound of your voice mixing with his low groans and the slapping of skin.

“You fuckin like that?” He panted into your ear, his hips never stopping as you moaned non stop.

“Yes... Yes... Fuck, yes!” You cried out as his hands moved to spank your ass, hard. You almost screamed, the sting nearly sending you over the edge. It was so overwhelming, you didn’t fully realize just how close you were until that moment.

“Jesus… I think I'm gonna come…” You whimpered and his hand came down again hard on your ass, definitely leaving a red mark. Emmett held you so tight against his chest, holding you in place for his thick cock to slam into over and over.

“Come for me..” He looked right into your eyes with pure want in the blue of his irises. And as if on command… You did. 

Eyes squeezed shut so tight you saw lights, a whiny moan was born from the depths of your chest and your sweet, slick cunt clenched around him tight. Your legs couldn't stop shaking and your orgasm took over every single sense. All your being was just a giant orgasm that still could feel him pumping hard into you.

“Holy fuck..” He breathed out in awe watching and feeling you succumb to all the pleasure. 

“Good girl..” He whispered, praising you right before capturing your lips in a hot kiss. “I'm coming too..” Even in your state, you could tell. His thrust had gotten sloppier and his breathing was much heavier. He wasn't able to hold back much longer. Inside the transparent latex, you felt him pulse and fill the material with his warm cum. He groaned, his arms held you tight and kept you there until the last drop was out.

Panting like you had just ran a marathon and with hearts beating fast, you laid there chest to chest. You put your forehead against his in a sweet moment, in response, his hand rubbed your back slowly.

 “Jesus… that was...” He whispered, still a little out of breath looking right into your eyes. You couldn't help but blush and put on a shy smile. 

“...the best sex i’ve ever had…” You softly finished his sentence. 

He pulled out slowly and sat up with you still pressed against his chest. His eyes studied your face for a minute before speaking.

“I think you may be a real cowgirl after all…” There was that sly smirk once more, one that made you return the sentiment and lean in with him for one last soft kiss.

Pinterest board with our visual inspo for this fic, made by @fuckiingloser

[bagofshinyrocks]

Green-Eyed Monster

Prompt: Established relationship; Reader is jealous of someone flirting with their spouse Thranduil, who is oblivious [inspo from @nightfall-writer]

Featuring: Thranduil Oropherion x GN!Spouse!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: nothing besides my "Tauriel and Legolas are BFFs" propaganda

You had no reason for envy. 

You were happily wed to the love of your life. Joined the royalty of Eryn Galen through your marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion. Doted upon by your husband, and cared for by your subjects. You wanted for nothing.

And yet… in had crept “the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” (Othello III:3).

There was never any doubt in your mind that Thranduil was faithful to you. His love for you was as unwavering as water downhill. As was yours for him.

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you, and all but melted into your embrace in the privacy of your bedchambers. The touch of your hand more calming than chamomile. The taste of your lips more intoxicating than wine. Your bare skin more alluring than a soft bed after a long day.

But as wise and regal as your husband was, he could be a bit thick in the head at times.

It had been a whole ordeal for the two of you to come together in the first place. A host of conspirators, led by Legolas and Tauriel. An idiotic dance as the two of you convinced yourselves that your feelings were unrequited. You were surprised that your now step-son had not smacked either of you upside the head at least once. His patience was unparalleled. In this instance at least.

So you couldn’t quite blame your husband for not recognizing others’ romantic interest in him.

There were nobles from other lands, elf, dwarrow, and man alike, who were visiting. After the Battle of the Five Armies and the retaking of Erebor by the line of Durin, he decided (i.e. he was persuaded) to expand trade relations, renew treaties, and welcome ambassadors. It seemed that almost every month brought someone new to his halls.

And you weren’t surprised that someone else would find your husband attractive. Not at all.

When you first met him, you could barely breathe. Ageless beauty. Sleek, shining blond hair. Piercing blue eyes. Luxurious clothing and jewelry with more detail than one could find in a day. Voice and speech that crept into your ears and made a home in your mind. You found the Sindar attractive the moment you saw him.

For an ambassador or noble to find Thranduil handsome meant their eyes functioned in some capacity. To find his voice and speech charming, their ears. That did not bother you. It was when their feelings changed like yours did, from aesthetic appreciation to romantic desire.

And he was oblivious to it all. Your speechlessness the day you met, your intimidation at meeting a king. The eagerness for those to meet with him, an eagerness to engage with Eren Galen and its wealth of materials, labor, and beauty.

Jealousy seemed so irrational an emotion. Thranduil was wholly yours; inattentive towards other romantic pursuits. Doted upon you. Craved your company and affection at all times

But it ate at you. Others and their lingering glances. Flirtatious words. Gentle brushes against him. And the ugliness of what you felt.

Your marriage was still recent, especially by elven standards. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. To act like a child who refuses to let others play with their toy. You would turn away and pretend you did not see it, or skip meetings you were not invited to.

Thranduil was concerned. Held you close at night. Reminded you how much he loved you and how brilliant you were. How lucky he was to have you in his life and as his spouse. He must have thought that all the social engagements were draining you. 

“I thank you for meeting with us, sir.” You stood from your seat at the head of the table, and everyone else leaped to their feet. It was still a little strange for so many people to hang on your every word. “I will bring your proposal to King Thranduil shortly.”

The man from Dale beamed and bowed low. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

Most of the councilors filed out, but the nobleman scampered over to your side. Another low bow which you met with a nod.

“Long have I heard of the beauty of elves, Your Majesty…” A quirk in your eyebrow reminded him of his place, and he quickly caught himself. “The beauty of your halls, your craftsmanship and arts. It is an honor to see it all.” 

You gave him a polite smile. “Thank you, sir. You are too kind.”

He opened his mouth again for more flattery, but another voice interrupted. One from the doorway.

“Meleth nín?”

There stood your husband, dressed in robes blue as water in moonlight. A tall crown of silver branches. White stones imitated snow and ice amongst the delicate wire.

“Forgive me, sir,” he said, not even sparing the nobleman a glance, “but I must speak with my love now.”

The nobleman quickly excused himself, but hadn’t the chance to leave the room before Thranduil had your hands in his, and his lips on yours.

When he leaned in, you expected a chaste kiss against your cheek. Instead, one hand settled on the back of your neck, and the other placed your hand against his chest. Its opposite quickly mirrored and both of your hands held the fabric of his robe.

Your lips were shiny and your face warm by the time your husband pulled away from you. All the tension had melted from him, and he wasted no time in pressing his forehead against yours and letting his eyes flutter closed again. Once his breath came easy again, he gave you a chaste kiss on the nose.

“Forgive my forwardness, meleth nín,” he cooed in Sindarin, a gentle brush of his hand over your cheek.

“Nothing to forgive, husband.” A kiss to his nose. “How could I be upset at the notion that my husband, the most handsome of all who have lived, live now, and will ever life, desires me?”

A smile at your words, and another kiss on your forehead.

That evening, the two of you were entwined on the couch in your apartments. His head rested against your chest, against your heartbeat, and your fingers combed through his hair and rubbed his back.

A fire crackled in the hearth, and two half-drunk goblets of wine sat on the table at your elbow. A comfortable silence, broken after a good while by a single word.

“Beloved,” he asked quietly.

“Yes?”

“I have a confession. And need your advice.”

The hand formerly in his hair transferred to gently scratch the back of his neck and you briefly squeezed him close with the other arm. He adjusted so he could look up at your face a bit better.

“Of course, meleth nín. What is it?”

“When you were speaking to that man from Dale… I had a foolish thought. Jealousy. I’ve felt it a great deal over the past few weeks, thought I never acted upon it. Until today. I feel childish now, interrupting and publicly expressing physical affection in neither the right time nor the right place. I-”

You cut him off with a kiss to his lips. A startled noise from him, then he pulled himself further up the couch so you could kiss more passionately. He wasn’t entirely sure why you were so taken with the idea of him being so immature, but he was glad you weren’t disappointed.

A quick huff of breath as you pulled apart.

“I love you so much,” you panted, then breaking into giggles. His brows furrowed.

“What is so funny?”

You kissed his nose. “Because I have been feeling jealous the past few weeks. And I hadn’t a clue you were feeling similarly.”

“Why are you feeling jealous?”

“Because,” you flicked his chest, “you have an entourage of nobles, merchants, and ambassadors doting after you. And I was disappointed in myself for being so immature.”

“I do?”

A very unregal snort from you. “Meleth nín, for one so wise, you are so…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

More giggles from you. “Very well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and his nose was tucked comfortably against your throat. The soothing warmth of his breath and the movement of his chest almost lulled you to sleep.

“I don’t think feeling jealousy is a bad thing,” you mused, fingers tracing the embroidery of his leisure dress. “It is a natural part of our behavior, to feel protective of things we love. And you weren’t rude or aggressive, for which I would have been unhappy. I’m glad you love me so much that somewhere in you,” a tap to the side of his head, as if to point the spot out, “a primal sliver encourages you to keep me all to yourself.”

A deep kiss from your husband. One hand behind your neck, cradling your head. The other crept between your back and the couch, fingers pressing into your flesh, pulling you into him as if any distance between you two still existed. You were smiling wide against his lips.

“How silly we both are,” he chuckled after leaning back for air.

Your fingers combed through his hair, finally settling to gently scratch the scalp around his ears.

“Indeed we are, my love.”

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Posted: 2024 March 7

[luveline]

i’ve been re-reading some of the kbd au and was wondering if u would be up to writing a little kbd blurb wherein steve’s being all flirty and silly with reader? idk what it is but flirty kbd!steve specifically rips my heart open he’s so cute when he’s trying to charm r make r laugh <3 thank u as always mwah

thank you my love!! ♡ kbd au

Bethie brings a drink with her as she enters the living room. Steve a few steps behind her, your husband leans in the doorway and winces with every drop she spills on the floor. 

The cup is half full when it reaches you, but it is for you. "Here, mom." 

"Thank you," you say, tone enthused with bubbly affection. Bethie looks like you rather than Steve, and her smile is a mirror.

"Daddy says, uhm…" She looks over her shoulder at Steve. He nods encouragingly. She turns back. "Dad says to tell you that it's from a man at the bar. Because you look beautiful." 

You sniff at the drink, take an experimental sip. It's Steve's version of a virgin margarita, lemonade, orange juice and a spritz of fresh lime juice. "Ooh, so yummy. You want to try?" 

Bethie wrinkles her nose. "Will I like it?" 

Probably not. "I'm not sure, but it's got bubbles?"

Bethie shakes her head. You don't take it personally, scooping your second eldest up to sit on your thigh. She's not heavy. It's actually really nice when she leans back and uses your tummy as a chair, to be loved like this. 

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "Come here often?" he asks with a wink. 

"Only every day, handsome." 

"Handsome? You're two timing the poor dolt stupid enough to buy you a drink, you know." 

"Poor dolt should've used his eyes." You gesture to either side of you, where Avery, the eldest, sits to your left and Dove, the youngest, lounges at your right. "I'm clearly taken." 

"Can't blame a guy for trying. I mean," —Steve whistles, looking you up and down, but he can't commit to his skit, and he cracks a smile— "hot damn, look at you." 

"Come here," you say. 

Steve's smile turns smug. He dodges the small margarita puddles on the way and leans down to kiss you, his hands on your face, a spritely peck that turns to kisses all over your left cheek. "Was the drink okay?" he asks, rubbing at your cheek with his thumb when he's done. 

You meet his eyes. Sugary brown, little flecks of honey crushed as his pupil grows bigger the longer he looks at you. "It's nice. I like your margaritas more than the store bought. Thank you, honey." 

"Oh," he hums, kissing you again. "You're welcome." 

"Daddy," Dove says simply. 

Steve knows what she wants, he can read their wants and needs from less, scooping her up to perch on the end of the couch. She can still fit into the curve of one arm if she tries. 

"Let me guess, you wanted a margarita," Steve teases, sliding a hand under her shirt to tickle her tummy. 

She laughs but ultimately protests, waiting for Steve to kiss her. He noses at her forehead, kissing her temple softly. "Better?" he asks. 

She settles in his arms and turns back to the TV, content. 

"See? You're not the only one in high demand." 

You sit back and beg him with your eyes to do the same. Steve does so immediately, shoulder to shoulder with you, pressing the tip of his nose to your cheek. Bethie wriggles in your arms and Avery asks about dinner, but for a few silly seconds, it's just you and Steve. 

"Love you. You look really, really pretty today. I had to tell you," Steve says. 

You reach out to squeeze Avery's hand to show you've heard her question. "I love you too, Stevie. Thank you." You make me feel really, really pretty. 

Especially when he says it like that. Three kids and he acts as though you're pretty enough for an urgent telling. Steve would tell you you're even prettier than the day he met you, and he's consistent enough that you genuinely believe it. He's your number one fan, and you're his. 

"Takeout?" you ask.

Steve's eyes glow with love. "Did I mention that you're beautiful?" 

[holylulusworld]

Mr. Holmes Maid (3)

Summary: You’re his maid.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Maid!Reader

Warnings: angst, power imbalance, dub-con (just in case cuddling/sharing a bed), master-servant relationship, the reader was an orphan, inappropriate behavior

Mr. Holmes Maid (2)

Mr. Holmes’ maid masterlist

The red dress is even more opulent and expensive than the others. You feel like an imposter standing in front of your master in a dress that shouldn’t cover your body.

“Wonderful,” the needlewoman coos. She clasps her hands together and smiles at you. “She looks so beautiful, doesn’t she, Mr. Holmes.” She wants to hear a compliment for her handiwork, not how you look in the dress.

“Mr. Holmes,” you dare not complain, but you don’t feel comfortable wearing a dress made for a lady, not a peasant. “Isn’t that too much? I can’t clean in this kind of dress.”

“It’s for special occasions,” he hastily says while pushing a few looks out of his face. “If we receive guests and such.” The lie easily rolls off his tongue. He straightens his back and looks at the owner of the shop straight in the eyes. “Right, Mr. Stevenson.”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Holmes,” the man almost cowers in front of your master. If he’d lick Sherlock’s polished shoes, you wouldn’t be surprised. “She will look lovely while serving your guests.”

No one at the shop believes Sherlock wants you to wear this dress for his guests. He wants you to wear them only for you.

“Wonderful,” your master finally says. “We will take them all. Maid,” he sternly looks at you. “You can redress after I paid for everything. I’ll be waiting outside for you. Don’t waste time, we need shoes for you too.”

“Shoes,” you murmur while watching Sherlock with curiosity. He’s so different now. Moments ago, he was all soft on you and placed his hand on the small of your back. And now, he orders you around.

“Yes, shoes, maid,” he grumbles. “Let’s proceed then.”

You wrinkle your forehead. What else does he want to buy for you today?

Sherlock leaves you and the needlewoman alone to talk to the owner about payment, and another order.

“My dear,” the woman whispers so no one can hear her. “He’s charming, smart, and very handsome. But be careful. You’re only a maid. If anyone finds out about your affair,” she looks around the shop, “you will be the one to blame.”

“I—no,” you gasp at her bluntness. “I…we…no. We never... I wouldn’t dare…” You shake your head. “Mr. Holmes never did such a thing, madame.”

“I’m not a madame, my dear,” she chuckles lightly. “I was you not so long ago.” She dips her head to watch her husband and Sherlock talk. “My husband saved me from ending up on the street after my master promised me love and devotion.”

You don’t know what to say, so you remain silent.

“After he stole my innocence, he tossed me out on the street like a stray cat,” she whispers. “If you ever need help,” she grabs your hand, squeezing it, “come back here. We have a spare room.”

You nod and give her a quick smile. Your heart is racing, just like your mind.

Is that what Sherlock wants? Steal your innocence and kick you out. Is this his way to remind you of your place? Maybe he tries to fool you, believing you’re just a dull maid, unable to think for yourself.

“Thank you,” you utter and ask her to help you redress. You need to get the expensive dress off of your body, or you’ll faint imagining all the things Sherlock could do to you if you let him…

“Are you unwell,” Sherlock watches you fidget in your seat at the carriage. “What is it, Y/N?”

“The dresses and all that,” you dare not to meet his gaze, “I can’t wear them. It’s inappropriate. I got my clothes and…guests wouldn’t want to see me in such a dress. It’s too…pretty.”

“I bought them,” he sternly replies. “So, you will wear them.” Sherlock’s features soften when you choke out a sob. “Y/N, you helped me so often while I was lost in a case. You made sure that I ate properly and got dressed. You even brushed my locks. Consider the dresses and coat a gift to thank you for your assistance with my cases.”

“I did my duty, Master Holmes,” your voice trembles when he looks at you with soft blue eyes. “Helping you and taking care of you is my honor.”

He smiles at your words. “You’re so…” Sherlock swallows the sweet words he wanted to say. He cannot say them. This would confuse you even more. “Caring and selfless.” He says instead. “If I offer a gift to you, I expect you to take it.”

“Yes, master.”

Sherlock sighs deeply. His words came out wrong, and now you shy away, believing you did something wrong. He wants to take the words back, but that’s just not him.

“We will be home soon, maid,” he softly says. “We should rest soon. It was a rather long and exhausting day for you.”

“What about dinner? I can still prepare everything,” you try to make things up to Sherlock. He bought all these nice things for you, and you could only think of the things the needlewoman said to you.

Sherlock brushes his hand over yours, gently touching it for a moment. “We have leftovers from last night. You need to rest. Tomorrow, we need to talk about a few things.”

You nod and drop your gaze. “Will you send me away now? Did I anger you?”

“What?” He gasps at your words. “No…I…” Sherlock grabs your hand to hold it tightly. “I would never let you go. And you did not anger me, Y/N.” He murmurs. “It’s late and we should not think of anything but to rest.”

Your heart races feeling his large hand hold yours. He doesn’t let go and interlaces his fingers with yours. Sherlock breaks another rule, but there is no one but you and him in that carriage.

Who shall judge him for wanting to hold your hand?

You pace back and forth in your bedroom. Sherlock said goodnight and tried to read some papers while he sent you to bed.

Now the words of needlewoman echo in your mind. What if she’s right? Maybe he tries to charm his way into your bed. You heard stories from other maids. Their masters did the same.

Sherlock never made any promises. He just came to your bed and slept next to you, seeking your warmth and closeness.

It’s all so confusing and you don’t know if you can resist his advances. Your heart, and maybe your soul too belongs to Sherlock for the longest time.

The moment he took you to his maid, you were lost, and you don’t know if that’s a bad thing…

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

[ao3-rex1223]

TᖇᗩᗪE Iᑎ - ᖴᗩTᕼEᖇ-Iᑎ-ᒪᗩᗯ ᒪEOᑎ

▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ ██ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ ██ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂

Pairing: Father-in-law!Leon Kennedy x Married Fem!Reader

Summary: You marry who you believe is the man of your dreams. At your wedding, you meet your extremely sexy father in law, Leon Kennedy. When your husband becomes neglectful, Leon is there to be a friend...and perhaps even more.

Tags: Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Cheating, Reader is married but her husband is a neglectful prick, father-in-law sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Size Kink, Creampie

Special thanks to @lipglossanon for the graphic! <3

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest happily announces, raising his hands up and rejoicing for the beautiful union he's just officiated. 

Your husband, Chase, pulls you into him for a deep kiss. You wrap your arms happily around his neck, pressing your body to his. Your heart soars as you finally get to call the love of your life your husband…or at least you think he's the love of your life.

The rest of the afternoon is a blur of photographs, hugs, and greeting your guests. The wedding dress was comfortable when you tried it on at the bridal shop but, damn, it was getting hot now. The tight bodice doesn't help, either. You're relieved when the night finally arrives and you can sit down to eat at the reception. You happily gobble up the dry chicken breast and steamed veggies. 

When dinner and all the speeches are done, you share your first dance with Chase. God, he looks so handsome in his tuxedo. You can't wait to rip it off later. He gently peppers your face with soft kisses and your panties are getting wet. “I love you so much, baby,” you purr, gently whispering in his ear while your guests all look on. You look longingly into his eyes, as if there’s no one else in the room. 

Chase smiles and kisses you deeply. You lose yourself in the heat and passion of his lips. The first dance ends and the dance floor fills with guests; your friends and family alike! You grin widely as you celebrate your beautiful union with your loved ones. 

Finally, a very handsome looking man who reminds you of Chase approaches you. His straight, brown hair hangs slightly around his forehead, topping off a square face. His jaw is sharply angled and speckled with stubble. It’s ruggedly sexy, just like your husband when he forgets to shave. “I'm sorry, I haven't gotten a chance to meet you, yet. I'm Leon. Chase’s father.” He smiles warmly at you.

Clasping your hands together in front of your chest, you light up, excited that you finally get to meet your father-in-law. Leon is an agent with the government and is gone a lot so the stars just never aligned for you two to meet until now. “Oh! Mr. Kennedy! I'm so glad to finally meet you!”

“Please, call me Leon,” he corrects politely and reaches out his hand for yours. “May I dance with my new daughter-in-law?”

You blush with happiness and glee. You're thrilled to have such a sweet father-in-law! Your own father was absent most of your life. He and your mother split when you were little and he’s been gone ever since. You're not even sure where he is. “I'd love to!” You take his hand and follow him to an open spot on the crowded dance floor. He gently places his hand on your waist while holding your hand with his other. You place your free hand on his shoulder and begin dancing. “Chase has told me so much about you!”

Leon chuckles, his charming laugh and easy smile the same as his son's. “Hopefully all good things.” He flashes his pearly whites and looks at you with warm eyes. 

You giggle. “Yes. Chase really looks up to you. He always talks about how hard you work. You've saved a lot of lives!”

Leon shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “It's not really a big deal…”

“You saved the president’s daughter! That's a big deal!” you argue playfully. 

“Anyone could have done it.” He twirls you around as you dance then brings you back into his arms.

“Oh come on now, you know that's not true!” you smirk at him, charmed by his humble attitude. 

“Well, thank you.” His smile fades. “It's been a double edged sword though.”

“Oh?” You ask, your face mirroring his. 

He nods solemnly with a guilty sigh. “I was away a lot. I missed a lot of big things in my son's life. Chase’s mom, my ex-wife, didn't like waiting around for me either.” He smiles sadly. “My marriage ended because I was never around. So I took a partial retirement and now, I just take a few missions here and there so I can be there for Chase…and my new daughter-in-law,” he explains, a more cheerful expression returning to his face.

“I'm glad to hear that! I know Chase has a few business trips coming up so I could definitely use some help renovating the house.”

“Won’t you be busy at work?” Leon asks, his head cocked to one side. 

“Chase and I talked and I decided I wanted to stay home. Chase makes more than enough to support us both…” you begin and blush brightly, “and our future children.”

Leon lights up with a bright grin. “Are you…?”

You chuckle with a wide grin. “No, not yet. Chase and I decided to wait until marriage.”

Leon swallows hard, a look crosses his face that seems almost guilty, but he quickly masks it with another smile. “That's…so beautiful…you waited for him…” He can’t help himself. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m so happy for you two. My son is the luckiest guy in the world.” He twirls you again. “I promise, I’ll be around for you both AND your kids…my grand kids.” He lets out a shaky laugh and drops his gaze to the floor for a moment. “Man…I’ll be a grandfather.”

Your eyes sparkle with endearment. “You look too young to be a grandfather.”

Leon’s cheeks blush. “Yeah…Chase’s mother and I were pretty rambunctious teenagers…She got pregnant when we were seventeen.”

You try to keep your eyes from widening. You knew Chase’s parents were young when they had him but… “Well, I guess I can’t blame his mother…with a boyfriend as handsome as you…”

Leon smiles again, cute dimples forming on his cheeks. “You’re sweet. I see why Chase married you. You remind me a lot of me and Chase’s mother.” He frowns and shakes his head when he realizes he may have implied that you two won’t last. “I didn’t mean…that came out wrong. I just mean, the way you look at him and the way you talk about him, it’s just like how my ex-wife and I used to look at each other. You two will be fine. Just make sure Chase stays home once in a while,” he jokes with a wink. 

You chuckle. “I will.” 

You continue to dance with your new father-in-law and when the song ends, you peck a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m so glad we have you in our lives, Leon.” 

He picks up both your hands and kisses your knuckles. “Likewise, sweetheart.”

At the end of the night, you return to the bridal suite, but are surprised to find it empty; you had planned to meet Chase here at midnight. Oh well, you think to yourself. He's probably just having fun with his friends. You sigh and turn to head into the bathroom to wash up and change out of your dress. You don the sexy, lacy lingerie set you bought to wear for him for your first night together. You smile as you look at yourself in the full body mirror, excited that you'll both be losing your virginity to each other. An hour passes and there’s no sign of Chase, but you know he had been having a great time with his groomsman. 

After another thirty minutes, Chase finally strolls into the bridal suite, surprisingly less inebriated than you expected him to be. You let slide the fact that he made you wait for an hour and a half and instead greet him with a warm smile. “Hey, handsome,” you coo, standing up from the bed to show him your lacy bra and panties. Your body thrums with anticipation for finally joining with your husband in every way possible.

He looks at you with mild interest, not that you realize it right now. “Hey,” he replies with a lukewarm tone. “You look nice,” he compliments, though it’s forced. He calmly walks inside and doffs his tuxedo jacket, gently laying it across the armchair. 

“I got this for you, baby,” you explain with a hopeful smile, gesturing to your revealing outfit. 

He forces another smile and kisses your cheek and replies, “Thank you.”

You tenderly grab his hand. “Are you ready to… go to bed ?” you mutter suggestively. 

Chase smirks lightly and nods. “Sure.”

You crawl into bed and wait as he takes off the rest of his clothes. He sits on the edge and strokes his cock a few times; it slowly hardens. You tremble with excitement as you stare at him…he looks…well you’re not sure if it’s big or small…you haven’t seen many before…

He crawls on top of you and kisses you gently as he guides his cock to your entrance. You feel a sharp pinch as he invades you, stretching your walls. You wince. I thought this was supposed to feel good , you think to yourself, feeling disappointed. He glides into you further, the sharp stinging only increasing. Tears pool in your eyes from the pain. “S-slow d-down,” you plead. 

“Sorry,” Chase mumbles and slows his pace. He pumps a few times, then groans. He stills, holding himself inside you as he cums. He flops onto the bed next to you and rolls over, your marriage officially consummated and your virginity officially gone. 

You love him, you really do, so you’re naturally very upset with yourself when all you can think is, Is this it? You lay awake staring at the ceiling in the hotel suite while you feel Chase’s warm cum sliding out of you. Finally, exhaustion takes you and you fall asleep. 

When you wake the next morning, Chase is gone. The sun beams in through the thin curtains of the suite. You rub your eyes, still sore and puffy from such a long and exhausting day yesterday. You slowly crawl out of bed, trying to feel happy about finally being married. You put on your best smile and get dressed for the day, hopeful that everything will only get better…

But it doesn’t. Chase is almost constantly away for work. Your mood slowly declines. Is this really all there is to marriage? You had hoped Chase would be around long enough to help you paint the guest room, but no such luck. You remember how enthusiastically Chase’s father, Leon, offered to help out if you needed. You contemplate for a while but eventually call him.

He answers after a few rings. “Hey, there!” he greets cheerfully. “How’s my favorite daughter-in-law?”

You chuckle. You’re his only daughter-in-law. “Hey, Leon. I was wondering…could you help me paint the guest room today? I promise I’ll pay you!”

You hear Leon’s soft chuckle. “You are not going to pay me. I’d be happy to help.”

You sigh with relief. “Thank you!” You brainstorm for a second, trying to figure out a way to thank him. “How about I cook you a nice lunch instead?”

“Only if you join me,” he replies happily. 

You chuckle softly with a bright smile. “Of course!”

“I’ll be right over,” Leon confirms. 

True to his word, he arrives a few minutes later, engulfing you in a big hug. He looks handsome in his tight gray T-shirt and old jeans. His thick biceps peek out from the sleeves. “Let’s get started, yeah?”

You nod and lead him to the guest room, already taped, tarped, and ready for a coat of paint. The afternoon flies by as you work and talk with your father-in-law. You laugh more than you have in weeks, your entire marriage so far. 

“So what do you and Chase like to do for fun?” Leon asks innocently. He reaches up with the roller and carefully swipes another stripe of paint onto the wall. 

You pause, trying hard to think of an answer. Chase is hardly around. The last time you did something together was…before you were married really… “Well…Chase has been busy. He’s away a lot for work,” you explain, making excuses for your absent husband. 

Leon frowns and looks at you with sympathy. “Do you want me to have a talk with him?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that! He’s gotta make the money for the two of us, you know? And our future kids!”

“Any developments on that front?” Leon asks casually with a hopeful smile. He resumes painting but periodically turns back to look at you as he does. 

“Well, no…we haven’t really been trying. I’ve wanted to…I’d love nothing more than to be a mom…but Chase is usually pretty tired when he gets home…we just haven’t had time.” You avoid looking at Leon, realizing how sad your explanation sounds. 

“My son is an idiot,” Leon declares frankly as he returns to painting. “When I first married my wife…I couldn’t keep my hands off her…we were at it every day…sometimes more than once,” he reveals. 

You chuckle. “I love Chase. We’re just getting settled right now…that’s all.”

Leon hums affirmatively in reply. You finish painting the guest room and enjoy a nice lunch together, talking and laughing like old friends. He stays all day and you even end up cooking dinner and watching a movie together. 

When it’s finally time for him to go home, you embrace him tenderly. “Thank you for everything, Leon!”

He returns the hug gladly. “No problem. Call me whenever you need me, when my knucklehead son is too busy to be with his wife. ” He gives you a content smile, but there’s more emotion behind it. You can’t see it now, but he’s jealous of his son. You’re so beautiful and kind. He can’t help but gravitate toward you. He pulls himself away, knowing he can’t allow himself to lose control and do something he will regret for the rest of his life. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he adds softly and kisses your forehead. 

The weeks go by and Chase continues to be away on business trips for days at a time. When he is home, he barely pays attention to you. You practically throw yourself at him and he still barely makes love to you and when he does, it’s devoid of the pleasure that you’ve heard comes with making love; the feeling that your friends and all those cheesy romance books describe. Surely you’re missing something or doing something wrong. Every night you're in bed alone, you cry yourself to sleep, plagued with loneliness. As time goes on, you start to look forward to Chase being gone; that means you have an excuse to invite Leon over. He makes you feel whole, warm…loved. When he's around, there are no tears, only happiness and laughter.

You grin with joy one morning when you hear a knock on the door, knowing your father-in-law is on the other side. You run to answer and jump into his arms when he walks inside. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he greets warmly, wrapping his strong arms around you and spinning you around. “What's on the agenda today?”

“I thought we could start a garden. I'd like to plant some tomatoes, cucumbers, and zucchini.”

Leon smiles. “No problem. Let's get started.”

You grin happily and lead him to the back yard. The day passes with laughter and inside jokes, time slipping away as the world around you disappears, leaving only you and Leon, the person who makes you happy. Truly happy. 

When you walk back into the house for dinner, you're both sunburnt and sore, but your joyous smiles persist, underpinned by the deep affection you share for each other. 

Leon groans a bit, carefully stretching. “Man…I'm not 20 anymore.”

You hand him a glass of ice water. “I couldn't tell by looking at you,” you compliment. He's incredibly handsome and it takes everything in you to try and ignore it. 

He happily downs the cold drink, his Adam's apple bobbing every time he swallows. The sight makes your mouth water. You're overrun with an urge to kiss his thick neck. You shake your head and swallow hard, trying to rattle the depraved thoughts from your mind. I'm married! “I'll go start on dinner.”

You glance occasionally at your wedding ring which right now feels like a prison. Why does it have to be this hard? Leon makes you so happy. You smile and laugh when he's around. You feel like yourself; you feel whole.  

You season and prepare a few steaks to grill for you and Leon. Your body aches for his touch even though sex has been merely a chore for you at this point. You take several deep breaths, trying to realign your thoughts with your morals, which are dangerously close to collapsing, anyway. 

You finish cooking and serve the meal. Leon is eternally grateful, unlike Chase whenever you cook for him. He simply eats and leaves. “This looks amazing! You're a real master chef!” Leon compliments. 

You preen from his praise. “Happy to cook for the best handyman around!”

“You sure you don't want me to scold my son and get him to stay around more?” He offers with genuine desire to help. 

You contemplate, but the first thought that comes to mind is if Chase is around more, Leon will be around less. You certainly don't want that! “Oh no, that's okay. I'll talk to him!” 

You won't. 

Leon smiles and relaxes back into his chair, returning to his delicious meal. After dinner, you take his hand and bring him to the living room for a movie. 

“What's on the docket for tonight, sweetheart?” Leon asks. He plops down onto the couch, settling into the soft cushion with a relaxed sigh. 

“You pick.”

“The Godfather?”

“I love that one!” You gleefully reply and quickly start the movie. Without thinking, you grab a blanket, snuggle in close to Leon and cover the two of you. It's as easy as breathing. He wraps his arms around you and you lay against him, secure in his warm embrace and happier than you ever have been. 

As the credits roll, you look up at him, eyes heavy with sleep. You spot a small smudge of soil from the garden on his chin. With a soft giggle, you gently wipe it away with your thumb. “Missed a little dirt.”

He smiles slightly from your touch and turns to face you, his eyes glazed with desire. Like magnets drawn together, his lips close the distance with yours almost by instinct. 

The softness surprises but excites you. His kiss is gentle, tender, everything you'd hoped for in a kiss. Your mouths mold to fit each other, like you've been waiting to do this your whole lives. As the kiss lengthens, your lips part, as if on cue, making way for your eager tongues to dance together. 

Your warm breaths mingle in the cool air along with the electricity surrounding you. You feel his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your face closer to his, his strong, calloused digits rubbing your scalp. You lean in closer and slide your hands by his face, cupping his jaw on either side. The soft pads of your thumbs gently caress his cheek. He lets out a soft moan. Dropping his hands to your waist he guides you onto your back on the couch without breaking the kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him tight against you. He supports his weight with his forearms. You feel his hardening cock press against your thigh, causing red, hot desire to course through you.

A breathy whimper escapes your tender lips and your eyes slip closed as you surrender to the passion igniting between you. Just as the thrilling euphoria begins, it ends as Leon pulls away. Your eyes fly open, watching him retreat from you, then the couch. He heads for the door quickly, shoving his feet into his shoes and flying out the door without a word. 

You’re left alone, confused, your heart in a storm of passion, desire, and sin. 

Days go by without hearing anything from Leon. The silence slowly drives you mad. Chase is due home tonight and you feel as though you should at least have a conversation with Leon before you confess your transgressions to your husband. You sigh heavily as your period arrives right on time, a confirmation that you still have not conceived a child, one of your biggest life dreams. Your hope of happiness begins to fade as you feel tragically isolated once more, longing for even platonic companionship. Chase tries to engage with you but when he finds out you’re menstruating, he pulls away and leaves the house, his destination left unspecified. 

Alone and lonely are two very different things, the intricacies of them well defined for you at this point. Chase leaves the following week again and you’re left isolated in your home, your prison. You call and text Leon several times, just wanting someone to talk to, but he doesn’t answer. Finally, you leave a voicemail, in tears, on his phone. “Hey Leon…it’s me again. I just,” you let out a sigh, “I really want to see you. I know what happened was…not supposed to happen…but…” you swallow a sob, “I just…you’re my best friend,” you sniffle, “and I really need my best friend right now…please…at least call me…or come over…anything…please.”

To your surprise, you hear your doorbell ring a couple hours later. Hope fills you once more and you answer the door. Seeing Leon’s face on the other side is like a balm for your ailing spirit. Without thinking, you draw him into a warm, welcoming embrace. Your heart finally feels bright again. He tentatively returns your embrace. He missed you too, but there’s a hesitancy in his movement. 

“Leon…I-” you begin but he jumps in.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. He steps back from your embrace to gaze into your eyes. He looks just as lost and guilty as you feel. 

“No, I’m sorry,” you reply, your insides stinging with disappointment in yourself. 

“I shouldn’t have…kissed you,” Leon adds with a blush. He looks away, too ashamed of himself to look at you anymore.

You grab his hand, trying to convey your reassurance. “Leon…we’re both at fault here…” you lead him to the kitchen where you both sit across from each other. With a deep sigh, you confess, “My marriage is…not good.” Tears start falling from your eyes. You turn your gaze to the table, as if that will somehow prevent Leon from seeing your distress. “Chase is never around…he barely touches me when he is…and I just…I feel so lonely.”

Leon’s hand twitches, the desire to reach out and hold yours nearly uncontrollable, but he keeps it frozen in place. He wants to be there for you, but he doesn’t want to cross that line again or even worse, cross another…

“Can we just…” you wipe your tears away, “go back to hanging out and doing random stuff around the house and laughing like idiots all the time?” Your eyes finally climb back to meet his gaze and look at him with hope of returning to how things once were. 

Leon’s pained expression slowly melts into a soft, sympathetic smile. “Of course.”

You grin happily. “Thank you! I missed you so much!” You pull him into your arms again, even though that’s a slightly dangerous move. You blush slightly and withdraw just as quickly, knowing Leon will want to set some boundaries. “Sorry…”

Leon smiles placidly. “It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. I don’t mind…just…no more kissing, okay?” he asserted with a slightly humorous edge, trying to keep the mood light. 

You let out a light chuckle in reply. “Deal.” You wipe away the last of your tears and start cooking lunch together. It takes a bit of time, though not as long as you might have thought, to slip back into your routine. Before too long, you're eating lunch together, talking, and crying, this time from laughter. 

Another week goes by, every day spent with Leon, and the day before you expect Chase to return, he calls. “Hi, sweetie,” Chase begins. You hear a great deal of noise in the background, lots of music and voices. “I’m hitting another conference and I’ll be gone another week. Think you could bring my BMW in to get the oil changed?”

It barely even registers with you anymore when Chase says he’ll be away for longer. “Sure,” you answer. “See you next week.” You don’t bother adding ‘I love you’. You’re no longer certain it’s even true. Plus, it's not like he ever says it to you .

Leon glances over at you inquisitively. “What was that about?”

“Chase wants me to bring the BMW in to get the oil changed,” you reply with a shrug. “Guess I can bring it in tomorrow.”

Leon lets out a dismissing “Psh,” and waves his hand. “I can do it. I’ve got ramps in my truck.” He jumps up from the chair and heads to the front door. You smile and shake your head. He’s always willing to help. 

You quickly slip on a pair of shoes and trot outside to help move the ramps. He grins widely at you, eager to embark on another home improvement-esque project. You help position the ramps properly and then guide Leon as he drives the vehicle up onto them. You stick around while he begins working, watching his T-shirt ride up while he lays on the ground under the car. His delicious looking abs peek out just begging to be licked…

You shake your head. “Need me to grab you any tools or anything, Leon?” you ask, trying to get yourself back to a platonic mindset. 

“Uh, sure.” He describes a few tools around the garage he needs and you carefully search them out and deliver them. 

Whether it's a slip of his hand or a flaw in the car, you're not sure, but you hear Leon groan and curse. 

“Leon!? Are you okay?” You ask worriedly. You drop to the ground to look under the car. 

“Ugh…yeah…just spilled oil all over myself.” Leon’s voice is a mixture of annoyance and disgust. 

“Oh! We need to clean that off! That's hard on your skin!” You tug his foot, coaxing him out from underneath the faucet of motor oil. He emerges from underneath the mischievous BMW and you see motor oil has spilled all over his shirt, arms, and neck. Worried about the potential corrosive effects, you take his hand, smearing some of the offending substance onto your own skin, and lead him to the shower. You quickly help him out of his clothes. Leon blushes, acutely aware of his nudity in front of you, but he’s grateful that you seem to somehow not notice, genuinely concerned for his well being. Your eyes are fixated on starting the shower, shoving Leon under the cleansing water, and washing his naked body. 

“Y-you don’t have to…” Leon awkwardly sputters, his blushing reaching from his cheeks down his neck. 

“We need to make sure we get all of it! Two sets of eyes are better than one!” you argue. You ignore his stuttering protests, worried sick about the negative effect such a toxic substance could have on his health. You couldn't stand it if something happened to him! With gentle thoroughness, you lather him up with soap and scrub carefully, getting every inch, every nook and cranny. When you make your way down to his hips, his dick catches your eye. 

Fuck.

It's big. Bigger than Chase’s…by a lot…you blush and gulp. You force your eyes away from the tantalizing appendage and return your lusty gaze to his face. “Um…I'll let you clean…down there.” You hand him the washcloth with a shaky hand as the deep red hue staining your cheeks spreads like an aggressive rash throughout your body. You turn, facing away from the creature that appears to have been sculpted by the gods. In your haste to rid his skin of toxic chemicals, you hadn’t noticed his ripped physique. His thick shoulders were barely contained in his T-shirt before you ripped it off. His biceps were now fully visible and rippled with each flex. His taut abdomen built up his core like carefully laid bricks. Oh how you’d love to run your hands along it, despite the notion that you could cut yourself on abs so sharp and tight. Tingles bubble through you as you recall the recent memory of his long, thick cock. Your legs tremble, imagining Leon’s tender touch all over your delicate skin, his warmth seeping into every nook and cranny of your form. Your mind conjures an image of his fat dick sliding inside you, consequences be damned. Your heart gives in, your mind yields. Casting off the obligation you willingly accepted when you got married, you let your carnal desires flood the forefront of your consciousness. You’re no longer fighting to justify the craving, no longer desperately explaining away the lustful thoughts he stirs up within you with a mere glance. Your breaths are ragged and uneven as you allow yourself to be submerged in these feelings that have been tugging at your mind since you met. 

Your outward reactions to your own intimate musings don’t go unnoticed by Leon as he scrubs the last of the motor oil off of his skin. He’s apparently reached his own breaking point as you hear a low growl behind you only a moment before strong arms wrap around your waist, lifting you into the shower with him. 

Your shirt and pants quickly begin absorbing the warm water cascading down on you from the shower. Before you can begin taking them off, Leon’s lips crash into yours. One hand snakes up the back of your neck, tangling his fingers into the hair at the base of your scalp. He tilts your head up to give him better access to your willing mouth. Your lips instinctively part, making it an effortless endeavor for his tongue to devour you. His other hand crawls to the hem of your T-shirt, slipping underneath to glide up to your bra-clad breasts. 

You can feel his hardening cock rising up and pressing against your clothed sex. Slick starts to pool between your legs, in quantities you had neither felt before nor thought possible. An icy hot tingle sizzles through you as your body ignites in a passionate blaze. A choked moan escapes you as his hand wraps around your breast, squeezing tentatively at first, but with more fervor as the moments tick by. He grips your wet shirt and peels it off of you with ease, breaking the kiss only for seconds before your lips collide once more. Pulling the cups of your bra down, he resumes his intimate massage of your plush breasts. He groans, his cock painfully hard. Your body responds in kind, the slightest friction against your swelling cunt driving bolts of delicious pleasure to surge through you. 

Realizing you’ve been stunned by the intensity of the moment, you finally let your own hands explore. You begin slowly running your hands up his thick chest, caressing his pecs and sliding upward to gently circle your thumb on his pulse point. Your kiss deepens, moans and whimpers swirling around in the steamy air. 

Leon reaches down, unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts. Without completely removing them, he uses the newly gained space to sneak his fingers into your underwear and tease your quivering folds. He groans like a starved man as he feels how slick and creamy your forbidden center is with only a few sensual touches. 

Feeling bold, you trail your hand down his body, stopping briefly to appreciate every rock hard muscle before reaching his cock. Leon’s breath hitches in his throat, a raspy growl tightening into a euphoric moan. His hips thrust into your hand, abs quivering as he succumbs to your erotic touch. His fingers still momentarily while exploring your depths, left without instruction from his brain, now almost completely drained of conscious thought by your ministrations on his steel shaft. He loves you; he fucking loves you and he can’t deny what he needs anymore. He knows his son is a bastard and probably nailing some slut in a high class hotel room, tainted with adulterous debauchery. Granted, he’s about to do the same with you, he knows you put everything into being a good wife; you gave it your all, but a human being can only take so much neglect. Leon knows you need him and he’s going to give you everything. 

Turning off the shower, he lifts you into his arms and brings you to your bedroom; your marriage bed. Though clinging to your skin, Leon manages to rid you of the rest of your soaking wet clothes. His soft lips briskly kiss yours before venturing further down, sloppily nibbling at your collar bone and eventually sucking as much of your pliant breast into his mouth as he can. His tongue swirls around your nipple and his teeth softly graze the sensitive bud. His fingers bury themselves in your sopping cunt again, continuing their earlier excursion. 

You feel like you're orbiting the moon right now, between the sensations on your breast and the ones between your legs, you wondered how you never knew intimacy could be this pleasurable. You’ve never felt anything even close to this with your husband. He takes no time to do stuff like this. He rolls on top of you, pumps inside you a few times, then finishes. There’s not much to it. He’s in and out like a doctor who’s on his last appointment for the day and already late for his 4 o’clock tee time. But Leon…he’s giving you sensations you didn’t know existed on this plane. Your body feels like it’s burning in the most delicious fire, blazing through your form and leaving scorching pleasure in its wake. His fingers hit a particular spot on your inner walls that rockets you into the stratosphere. An unrefined, guttural moan cuts through the air, fired from your parted lips as your back bows off the bed. 

Noticing your reaction, Leon amps up his ministrations, stroking your spongy pleasure center with expertise. You’re writhing in the throws of passion and euphoria. Having surrendered to your baser instincts, you arch your back again, letting every moan and whimper fly past your lips, unencumbered because, fuck it, you don’t even care if the neighbors hear. Every rub of his fingers on the sensitive trigger within your vault has you seeing heaven. 

“You're so beautiful,” Leon purrs. He drops his lips to yours again, swallowing your sweet, melodic vocalizations. His pace quickens, his strokes becoming quicker and more intense. The build towards something that can only be described as magical progresses rapidly. Your breaths are rapid and shallow; your heart races, pounding heavily in your chest. Sweat beads all over your body, leaving your skin glistening in the afternoon light. 

His thumb begins rubbing your clit, that sensitive bundle of nerves you hardly knew existed until it swelled as a result of Leon's expert touch, making you feel like a horny teenager. Finally, the fireworks explode, your entire body contracts, cunt squeezing down on the fingers inside you. Pleasure overflows in every cell as your brain floods you with dopamine. An ecstatic cry bubbles from deep within your lungs, surging through your throat and curling around Leon's tongue as it surges through your mouth. 

When the waves of rapture subside, you fall limp on the bed. Your pussy finally releases Leon's fingers and he slowly withdraws them. He brings the delicious essence to his lips, sucking your delectable juices clean off his hand, the act causing your eyes to overflow with lust and your jaw to slip just slightly open. His gaze bores into yours and you know this is only the beginning; the preliminaries. 

He gently crawls on top of you, capturing your lips in another decadent kiss. His tongue reunites with yours, tenderly caressing your oral muscle. He rolls his hips at a lazy pace, teasingly grinding his length against your drenched cunt. Your senses are on fire yet still hungry for more heat. One of his arms holds him up and the other glides softly down your perfect curves. “I need you, sweetheart. I can’t stop myself anymore,” he murmurs between kisses.

“Don’t stop! I want this! Please! Oh God! I need this!” you beg through heavy breaths as your tongue dances with his. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer, desperate to feel your bodies pressed together even tighter. You feel Leon’s hand slide further down your lithe body, his fingertips leaving buzzing tingles behind. He moans your name like a whispered prayer in your ear, brushing his lips against the supple lobe. Your fingers tangle into his sandy blonde hair as a soft whimper slips out. 

Finally, his hand grips his thick, rock hard cock and guides the tip inside you. Your head digs into the pillow beneath; Chase’s pillow. A twisted sense of satisfaction fills you but disappears just as quickly as the exhilaration of Leon’s incredible dick gliding inside you replaces all conscious thought, lubricated by your natural, creamy essence. A long, desperate moan draws out of you, paradise within reach. Your breasts heave against Leon’s chest as gasps overtake your breathing. His lips dance across your face and jaw as he begins to pump at a teasingly slow pace. He nibbles on your neck, gently biting and sucking your creamy skin. Your back instinctively arches into him, each thrust of his cock along your sensitive walls sending bolts of pleasure up through your spine. 

Your heart is racing, pounding in your ears and hammering in your chest. Your cunt begins to quiver, submitting unconditionally to the pistoning shaft grinding against your inner vault. The warm, electric buildup you can feel inside your lower abdomen grows ever stronger until it’s impossibly tight, ready to burst like a rubber band stretched too far. Finally, you reach your peak, your pussy squeezing Leon tight like a greedy sinkhole of lust and sex. A deep gasp sucks in the thick air around you, replenishing the oxygen that’s been dragged from your lungs to fuel your earth shattering orgasm. “Oh God, Leon!” you cry out, your hands gripping his thick biceps as you ride out your climax. Your slick pussy squeezes his cock, a vice grip holding onto his manhood like it never wants to let him go. Your thighs tighten around his waist as euphoria rocks through you. His touch is like a drug and you’re already addicted. 

A low growl rumbles in Leon’s chest, manifesting to a guttural moan the erupts from his lips just as he thrusts inside you one last time to spill his cum deep within your womb. “Fuck…” he pants out with winded breaths. He collapses onto the bed next to you, sweat beading down his forehead. You both lay there recovering from the intensity of your tryst for several moments before Leon rolls to his side and props himself up in his elbow. Smiling affectionately, he leans down and kisses your forehead. “That was amazing…I…I've wanted that for longer than I care to admit…”

You gently cup his face, pulling his face back to yours for a tender kiss. “Leon…” you whimper, letting your voice drift away as your emotions overwhelm you. You're having trouble admitting to even yourself that you wanted him too…for a long time. 

He gleans your meaning anyway and rolls to cover you partially, capturing your lips once more as you both ride the afterglow.

[dumbseee]

prince charming.

in which, i tell you the story of how you met yassine bono.

yassine bono (bounou) x reader.

note: this will flop since he’s criminally underrated, give my boi some love too. i love him so much i HAD to write something for him <3

you met him at a wedding. he was invited since he was in the same football team as the groom, and you were invited because the bride was your best friend since childhood. going to that wedding, you surely never thought that you’d meet the love of your life there, dressed in this beautiful navy suit, his signature smile plastered on his face at all time. you immediately noticed him, how could you not? he was insanely gorgeous but also a giant next to anyone so it was hard to not notice him.

you found him extremely attractive and your friends also agreed on that and tried to get his attention. but he gently turned them down, thanking them for the compliments and sending them away with a curt smile. when you saw that, you immediately lost hope and chose to not go to talk to him. if he rejected all your beautiful friends, why would he talk to you? of course, you were as beautiful as your friends and people were naturally drawn to you because of your sweet persona and natural charm. but it was hard to fight back all those voices in your head, telling you that he was way out of your league.

you pushed all those negative thoughts and still enjoyed your night, it was your best friend’s wedding after all. and you had a blast, you were so happy for the couple. you even had some eye contacts with yassine. midnight came and you decided that it was time for you to go home, as you were walking to the parking lot to call a taxi, you tripped over literally nothing and scratched your knee pretty badly and also broke your right shoe.

"fuck! that hurts…" you mumbled to yourself, trying to get up but failing miserably. you were so focused on cursing at yourself that you didn’t notice the very tall and handsome man standing next to you. "are you okay?" yassine asked you, kneeling in front of you, face torn with worry. you didn’t even respond to him, too surprised to have your "crush" talk to you and be so close to your face. you also mentally cringed when you realised that he probably saw you fall miserably to the ground. "you’re bleeding. is your ankle okay? can you walk?" he asked again, his fingers brushing against your ankle, making you shiver. you failed miserably at answering him again, which made you slap yourself mentally again because what was wrong with you?

yassine smiled to you and turned around so his back was now facing you. you frowned, not understanding what he was trying to do. "get on my back, i’ll carry you." he tapped his shoulder, of course he was still smiling. "no, don’t worry i can walk!" you immediately stood up, almost loosing your balance because of how fast you got up. yassine also stood up, you could see on his face that he wasn’t buying it, he had his arms crossed and that damn smile on his face. you tried to walk but almost made contact with the pavement again, yassine catching you with his arm. he put his second arm under your legs and carried you, holding your broken shoe in his left hand. "you didn’t need to do that, you know." you were so ashamed of yourself, but would lie if you said that you didn’t enjoy that moment. "i know, but i wanted to. and i wasn’t going to let you alone and injured in the dark." yassine stopped in front of a black sport car, he gently put you down and opened the car, he opened the passenger seat and helped you sit inside. 

long story short, yassine drove you home and secretly kept your broken shoe, because he wanted you to reach out to him so he could see you again. you got his number through your best friend’s husband and immediately texted him. you invited him for dinner at your place and he came with your now fixed shoe. sooner than later, you two became a couple and you couldn’t dream for a better boyfriend than yassine bono. he treated you like the princess you were, showering you with gifts and kisses every time he’d comeback from practice or a game. even if his team lost, he’d comeback to you with his huge smile and collapse on top of you on the couch. "you’re sweating." you said, almost choking under him. "liar. i took a shower." you laughed before he started to tickle you, making you almost die from laughter. he knew how much you hated tickles, but he loved the sound of your laughter and after a bad game, he needed to hear his favourite melody.

yassine was grateful to have you in his life, everyday he’d thank god to have had him play in the same team of your best friend’s future husband, so you two could attend their wedding and meet. yassine was a gentleman, always opening the door for you, always buying you flowers on your first day of period because he saw how painful those were for you, always cooking your favourite meal when he felt like you needed it. when he was away for work, yassine would always facetime you, even after tiring days, he’d never miss your call, or else he’d have a hard time sleeping well.

yassine was the sweetest human being you’ve ever met and you thanked god every day for making you fall in front of him at that wedding.

[smizzywizzy]

happy birthday, my beautiful, gorgeous, majestic, handsome, wonderful, smart, brilliant, dashing, considerate, ambitious, charming, funny, amazing, loving, polite, reliable, stunning, flawless, enchanting, seductive, alluring, ravishing, glamorous, pretty, scrumptastic, dreamy, modest, divine, lovely, edible, perfect husband. love you king <3

[raikkonenvettels]

Makkinen <3

aaaaah ximm!!! thank you so much for the ask, i love my beloved old men <333

who hogs the duvet

it’s alway the germans that do it!!! i imagine michael visiting finland for the first time and he he freezes his ass off with like 3 blankets on meanwhile mika is ok just cuddling him without a blanket on wkdnen

mika teases the fuck out of him (“didn’t know THE michael schumacher’s weakness would be a little cold weather”)

who texts/rings to check how their day is going

idk why but mika? i think michael is way more reckless so mika is worried skdjej

who's the most creative when it comes to gifts

i have no idea but i think mika is one to give small but meaningful gift while michael goes ALL OUT

who gets up first in the morning

mmm maybe in this case they get up together? or even mika gets up first and michael follows suit!

who suggests new things in bed

michael. he is a kinky shit you cannot tell me otherwise

who cries at movies

micheal but he doesn’t want to admit it (he just doesn’t look at mika as the movies progress. mika is concerned™️ but when he notices the tears he just smiles fondly and lets it go)

who gives unprompted massages

i seriously have zero idea for this one ngl 😭

who fusses over the other when they're sick

michael 😭 he is a drama queen and he gets so worried!!! mika is always really calm about most things and he knows michael is going to be fine anyway (even if he is dramatic about it)

who gets jealous easiest

in this case i think both bc ofc mika gets jealous bc duh his husband is a 7 time world champion and he is one of the most charming people alive, even if he knows michael loves him like no other

but michael… listen we all know mika is super pretty and handsome and michael has always been jealous when people other than him flirt with him skdksks

who has the most embarrassing taste in music

i have no idea tbh but i will say mika from vibes alone akdjsj

who collects something unusual

i have no idea why but i feel like mika collects things like stamps aksnsk

who takes the longest to get ready

it’s micheal akdjsj (they always arrive late because mika has to shoot down at least 3 outfits choices from michael because they are not appropriate for the place they are going to akdjsjs)(“no michael, the fur coat is not a good option for the gala, stop bringing it up!!!”)

who is the most tidy and organised

definitely mika AHAH

who gets most excited about the holidays

i think both actually!!! they both love spending time with family and being together doing silly christmas stuff i think :)

who is the big spoon/little spoon

michael is the big spoon and mika the little spoon i think (not saying this just bc michael has beautiful arms and mika 100% loves being held in them or anything ofc not…………)

who gets most competitive when playing games and/or sports

i want to say both but it’s deffo michael aodksk mika is way too chill these days to care that much

who starts the most arguments

i also think they don’t argue much, they can usually communicate pretty calmly (the one who is most heated in the beginning of the arguments is deffo michael)

who suggests that they buy a pet

MIKA HE WANTS ALL THE TURTLES THE STORE HAS TO OFFER!!!

what couple traditions they have

i feel like their anniversaries are always extremely special and they always celebrate them in special ways

what tv shows they watch together

is modern f1 considered a tv show bc they wpuld watch that and laugh akdjsj

what other couple they hang out with

i know i’m biased but SIMI. they are their mentors and i love to think seb and kimi always manage to go and visit them once in a while to catch up

how they spend time together as a couple

idk why but they give the vibes to be one of those could that just spend their time being retired together just enjoying the quiet and looking at the finnish landscape

who made the first move

you cannot tell me michael’s bold ass didn’t just confess his undying love for mika when he knew the finn was retiring it’s canon to me

who brings flowers home

micheal i think!!! i think he is one of those people that is like “i saw them and i thought about you”

who is the best cook

i think mika? i just know michael would have so many talents just… not cooking akdkssk

[xsammei-her-belovedberyl]

I’m so in love with my husband ♥️♥️

[insane-in-the-membranee]

Since I don't feel like studying rn (I have tests starting tomorrow but anw) I'mma make a list of all the webtoons I've read till now~ (feel free to recommend more :3)

My Deepest Secret (my 1st webtoon on the app) ✅

UnOrdinary (ongoing)

Freaking Romance ✅

Siren's Lament ✅

My dear cold-blooded king ✅

Age Matters ✅

Hello Baby (ongoing)

Let's Play (completed- gotta catch up)

I love Yoo (ongoing)

Eggnoid ✅

It's Mine ✅

The Remarried Empress (ongoing)

Your Throne (ongoing)

The Makeup Remover ✅

Rotten (paused)

Bastard (paused)

Sweet Home (paused)

My Daughter is a Zombie (paused)

CinnamonRoll ✅

I dropped Noblesse and Goh*

What you wish for (dropped)

Play Dead (Hiatus— last ch on Jul 17, 2020)

I'm the Grim Reaper (ongoing)

The Devil is a Handsome Man

Little Rain (Hiatus)

Her Mannequin (Hiatus)

To Love Your Enemy ✅

Reunion ✅ (by stephattyy)

The Male Lead's Girlfriend (completed- gotta catch up)

The Snake and the Flower (completed- gotta catch up)

So I married the Anti-Fan ✅

Secret Playlist ✅

True Beauty ✅

Beyond Virtual (completed- gotta catch up)

When Jasy Whistles (Hiatus)

LUMINE (Hiatus)

The Duke's Cursed Charm (completed- gotta catch up)

His Majesty's Proposal ✅

My Gently Raised Beast ✅

My In-Laws are Obsessed with Me (Hiatus)

A Tail's Secret (Hiatus)

She's Hopeless ✅

Who's Mr. President? ✅

For My Derelict Favorite (Hiatus)

Take me, I'm Yours ✅

Daytime Star ✅

Play The Game (Hiatus)

The Dark Lord's Confession (Hiatus)

Forever After (Hiatus)

Maybe Meant To Be (Hiatus)

I'm Dating A Psychopath (Ongoing)

The Dragon King's Bride (ongoing)

Only Hope (ongoing)

Phase (ongoing)

Go Away Romeo (ongoing)

Omniscient Reader (ongoing)

Lookism (ongoing)

No Marriage Is Perfect (ongoing)

Trapped (ongoing)

Eaternal Nocturnal (ongoing)

Serena (ongoing)

Baby Tyrant (ongoing)

I am the Villain (ongoing)

Locked Onto You (ongoing)

Leveling Up My Husband To The Max (completed) ✅

Unlovable Replacement (ongoing)

Dreaming Freedom (ongoing)

Operation: True Love (ongoing)

The Guy Upstairs (ongoing)

Men of the Harem (ongoing)

Like Wind On A Dry Branch (ongoing)

Iseop's Romance (ongoing)

Perfect Marriage Revenge (completed) ✅

Marry My Husband ✅

Cry, or Better Yet, Beg (ongoing)

I'm the Queen in this Life (ongoing)

Wind Breaker (paused)

The Age of Arrogance (ongoing)

My Reason to Die (ongoing)

Hero Killer (ongoing)

Get Schooled (Webtoon removed it tho)

A good day to be a dog ✅

The mafia nanny (ongoing)

Following Eunju (completed) ✅

The Price Is Your Everything (ongoing)

Not Your Typical Reincarnation Story (ongoing)

Taming the corrupted (ongoing)

That's all I can remember for now. Remember some might have been completed but I am following the Webtoon so I went according to that. I have written Hiatus on "Will Return" Series as well, lmk if you want me to change it to 'ongoing' instead!

[m-jelly]

Hi, my lovely Jelly ❤️

What about arrange marriage theme with Levi x reader? Reader is from a noble family and must marry Levi whom she has never seen. Reader, of course, does not like this idea, but the wedding still took place.

She is embarrassed and does not know how to behave with her husband. I like the idea of ​​how they will gradually get to know each other more and more after the wedding. It will be awkward at first, but they end up falling madly in love with each other.

I understand that arranged marriages are inherently terrible, but I'm just wondering how the characters will interact and build relationships in such a situation.

P.S. it can be Royal AU orJapanese AU or Modern time just choose which one you like more ❤️❤️❤️

xxx Olya

@ladycheesington <3

Arranged love

Pairing: Levi x Fem!Reader

Genre and tags: Royal AU, east Asian inspired, romance, falling in love, awkward love, fluff, arranged marriage, shy Levi and reader.

Concept: Levi is smitten as soon as he sees you on the wedding day. Once you're married, he whisks you away to his palace where he spoils you rotten and tries his best to get to know you. You like Levi right away, but you are a bit scared of what might happen. You slowly open up to Levi, and you give in to your love.

Taglist: @ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @notgoodforlife @demonsimp6 @nbinairyn

Levi released a long sigh as he waited for you to be brought to him. He was a little nervous about everything, but his mother had assured him that you were a living goddess as sweet as honey. Kuchel had seen your painting, met you in person, and adored you. She wanted you as her daughter-in-law, which is why Levi was marrying you today.

He turned and gazed at the doorway to hear the announcement of your arrival. He perked up a little in anticipation of meeting his wife. He let out a shaky breath and felt his heart skip a beat when you entered the hall in your long white robes and a hood to hide your face.

He gulped hard as you moved closer to him and stopped at his side. He inhaled deeply and felt overwhelmed by the floral scent that was you. He felt his cheeks burn when you gazed at him causing his heart to skip a beat. Levi couldn't believe how beautiful you were with your delicate and very little makeup with coloured lips.

You felt your heart flutter and your cheeks burn as you gazed at the man who was going to be your husband. You couldn't believe how handsome he was and he had such a charming smile. You weren't that important, you were just a daughter of a politician but Levi was the Prince. You were shocked when you heard the Prince wanted to marry you. You had no clue that Kuchel was the Empress when you met her.

The ceremony was sweet and perfect as the two of you felt nervous with each other. He walked with you to a special carriage and helped you into your spot. He sat with you as the two of you were paraded around for all to see. You felt a bit flustered when Levi held your hand the whole time.

Once the parading was done, you were taken to the palace gardens where food and drink were served for you, your family and your friends. You enjoyed your food and felt comforted. You had been dreading this moment, but everything seems okay. You were a bit worried about the end of the night because it meant consummating the marriage.

Levi poured you a drink and smiled softly at you. "We have some time to talk."

You gazed at him. "Thank you, and I suppose we do, your highness."

Levi cleared his throat. "It is Levi to you."

"Yes." You bowed your head. "Well, what do you wish to discuss?"

"You."

You felt your cheeks heat up. "There isn't much to know. I'm not very interesting."

He reached over and played with some of your hair. "But I'm very interested."

You smiled at Levi's sweet smile. You turned a little to face him and began talking about yourself. You shared what you loved and your cute hobbies. You lit up in delight when Levi talked about himself and the things he enjoyed. You both found yourselves slowly falling for each other and discovering you had a lot in common with each other.

Levi talked with you until the end of the feast. He rose from his spot and helped you to stand. He guided you inside his home and released you so the attendants could change you into your night robes. He felt a little nervous about tonight because he knew it was about consummating the marriage, but he wasn't sure he was ready and he was certain you weren't.

He changed into his night robe and blushed at how much skin he was showing, he was practically naked but his privates were covered. He shifted a little and moved into the wedding chambers to see you sitting on the bed with your legs to the side and the shoulder part of your robe slipping down.

Levi turned to the attendants and bowed his head. "Thank you, now leave us. I don't want anyone near this room." He slammed the slide doors closed and listened to them talking before walking away. He released a sigh and turned to you. "You may pull your robe on more."

You tugged it on a bit. "Am I not pleasing?"

He moved closer to you. "You are like a delectable fruit I am dying to take a bite out of, but we have just met and I would like to explore these feelings between us first."

You let out a long sigh. "You know, I'm very thankful. I was very nervous about tonight."

"So was I."

You smiled a little. "I'm glad you feel the same way."

He offered his hand to you. "Come."

You took his hand and rose to your feet. "Where are we going?"

"To our special garden. I don't let anyone into this garden unless I give them special permission."

You walked out of the room and onto the deck through the slide doors. You admired his little sitting area of cushions on the floor. You followed Levi down to the grass and moved across the garden to a small pond with a little waterfall bit in place to keep the water flowing.

Levi sat and pulled you to sit on his lap. "We'll enjoy the peace. I think we should talk more as we enjoy the stars and maybe we could try to cuddle and kiss."

You looked up at the stars and gasped at seeing part of the galaxy. "Incredible."

Levi looked up before slowly looking at you and enjoying the view that were you a lot more. "You're right, incredible."

You looked down at Levi and felt your cheeks beginning to burn. "Levi."

"Yes?" He softly said your name and played with your hair. "What is it you desire?"

You felt your heart flutter when you watched him kiss your hair. "I would like to try that kiss."

"I would too." He pushed his fingers into your hair as his eyes searched your beautiful ones. He smiled softly and brought your head down. "You are a vision." He pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart soared when Levi's warm lips pressed against yours. You felt like you were in ecstasy. You had been so nervous to meet Levi, but you never imagined he'd be this perfect and his lips so addictive. You parted your lips and welcomed a playful lick of his tongue on your lip. You moaned a little in response as a tingle began in your body.

Levi slipped his hand over your back and felt a pleasure burn within him. Your lips were so soft and sweet. He felt so happy kissing you. His heart fluttered in his chest and he wanted to kiss you more. He flicked his tongue against your lip to test if you wanted him. He smiled when you moaned and opened your lips. He sighed through his nose as his tongue pushed into your mouth.

You wrapped your arms around Levi's neck and you hummed in delight. You pressed your body against his allowing you both to feel each other's bodies. You moaned with Levi as he gripped you tightly and slowly lay back on the floor. He rolled slowly onto you and dragged his body against yours making you purr at Levi.

Levi pulled from your lips and blushed as he looked down at you. "You are so wonderful." He played with your hair as he sighed. "I was thinking that tomorrow we could do some tea tasting. We'll try different teas together, make them too and we'll have little biscuits too."

You giggled. "I would love that."

"I'm glad. Oh and perhaps on another day we could possibly go horseback riding?"

You smiled softly. "That sounds wonderful."

Levi lay on his back and pulled you against him. "I want to cherish you."

You rubbed his chest. "Me too."

[adarkrainbow]

Romanian witches: Baba Dochia

Originally I wanted to only talk about one "Romanian hag" from the world of fairytales, but from this one entity I ended up talking about Muma Padurii and Baba Cloantza and many more... Because there is never just one "baba" or one "muma" in Romania. There is a whole series of malevolent hags and magical old women who all embody in one way or another the benevolent, malevolent, or neutral aspects of the archetypal Romanian witch.

I will mention that Wikipedia lists the Muma Padurii/Baba Cloantza in her wicked form as one of the three recurring villains in Romanian fairytales, alongside the "balaur" (the "dragon", a winged multi-headed evil snake that comes in three variations 1) air-dragon that causes/lives in storms 2) earth-dragon living in chasms and pits and associated with gems 3) water-dragon, usually killed by the saint - see the legend of saint Georges) and the "Zmeu" (Zmei in plural, the Romanian variation of the Slavic creature of the same name, usually a giant sorcerer but which sometimes appear as a dragon)

Now I finally reach the witch I originally wanted to talk about. Baba Dochia. I first learned about her when looking at an article which covered the Romanian translations of the brothers Grimm "Frau Holle", and this article evoked how in Romanian translations the legendary character of Frau Holle was often replaced by a Romanian folkloric being: Baba Dochia (which the article did compare to the Baba Cloantza as an aspect of the "fairytale wicked witch"). With the bonus that the Baba Dochia is closely linked to the weather and to seasonal changes, which explains why she can fit the role of Frau Holle.

Here is what the article had to say about the Baba Dochia.

She is one of the many supernatural "babas" of Romanian legends (remember, "baba" simply means "old woman", the same way the German "Frau" means "lady" or "miss"). Baba Dochia has, like Frau Holle, a weather role - Baba Dochia is a manifestation of the cold weather and the winter season. Or, to be more precise, Baba Dochia is only a manifestation of the end of winter. The whole thing of Baba Dochia is that her "weather role" takes places during the beginning of March, a set of nine days that are typically called the "babele" (plural of Baba). This era marks the end of winter and the beginning of spring - a shift of seasons usually symbolized as a fight between two entities. Baba Dochia is supposed to wear nine "cojoace" (coats made of sheep's skin), representing how cold the weather is. During these nine days, when the weather is violent, unpredictable and constantly-shifting, Baba Dochia will remove each of her coats, one per day - and the more coats the take off, the hotter the air becomes and the more snow melts. In fairytales, this "seasonal battle" usually has the spring season symbolized by the "prince Charming" figure.

This is the case of a specific Romanian fairytale that is an equivalent of the Grimm's "The three little men in the woods". In this fairytale the Baba Dochia is a wicked stepmother that sends her martyrized stepdaughter to a frozen stream, to wash black wool until it becomes white. The stepdaughter encounters a beautiful young man named Martisor (I am not adding the accents here because my keyboard is not equiped for it) who embodies spring: not only does he help the girl, he also gives her flowers (we are in winter). When the stepdaughter returns she manages to get her accused of cheating on her husband (because after all, you know, she accepted the flowers of a handsome stranger in the woods... It can look bad in an old countryside society) ; but these flowers will cause Dochia's downfall. She believes these flowers mean spring is here (when in fact it is still winter), as such she goes to the mountain with her sheeps as she does every spring... but she just ends up frozen to death there, and all her sheeps with her. This folktale is tied to the rocky landscape of several mountains - a type of mineral manifestation called "Babele" and which is supposed to be Baba Dochia and her sheeps, petrified into stone.

Baba Dochia also appeared in the works of Mihail Sadoveanu, but this author decided to reinvent the figure as a less wicked and more tragic character. In his own take on the story of Martisor, Dochia isn't the wickedness of a cruel season that needs to end ; but rather she suffers from the deep gap between the human world and the "otherworld". An Otherworld that Baba Dochia represents: she is a witch-like old woman with obscure powers and a shadowy domain, living all alone in a little cabin at the top of the mountain, isolated from all civilization. One day, she adopts a young orphan girl and she raises her with love - but away from all other human presence. The young girl, who is a plain human unlike the otherwordly Baba Dochia, cannot resist her roots and demands to be allowed to return into humans, in the light-filled world of the valley. Baba Dochia agrees to let her go there to see the humans - but in the valley, the girl falls in love with the titular Martisor and forgets to return to her adoptive mother. The old woman, alone and heartbroken, ends up freezing to death in the coldness of her little dark cabin.

This was all I could get from the article. To this I will add info from a little brief Internet research:

An alternate name of Baba Dochia in Bulgaria and Macedonia is Baba Marta, in reference to the spring celebrations of the first of March, Martenitsi, Bulgarian name of the Romanian Martisoare, from which the "prince" Martisor gets his name. Baba Dochia can also be found under this name in Moldavia. In English, a translation is "Old Dokia".

A variation of the "babele" name described above: the fifteen first days of March can be called the "zilele babei" (the days of the old woman) (babei/baba refering to the old woman, the herb-healer and the female witch)

There are actually many versions of the fairytale I described above:

First version: Baba Dochia had a son, Dragobete in Romanian, Dragomir in Bulgarian, who married a young girl against his mother's will. Dochia abuses her daughter-in-law and at the end of February sends her to fetch berries in the woods. She is helped by an old man, who is actually God in disguise and produces the berries by a miracle. When Baba Dochia/Marta sees the berries, she believes spring is here, puts on twelve sheep-skins as coats and goes to the mountain with her son and sheeps. But due to the rain her coats get soaked and heavy - so she removes them, but the frost suddenly arrives and freezes her to death, with her sheeps, and her son who was playing the flute.

Second variation: Pretty similar to the first, with a few details changed. There are only nine coats instead of twelve, and the Baba removes them due to the hot weather before the frost suddenly arrives. Her son doesn't go with her to the mountain. The girl isn't helped by God but by the Virgin Mary or a female saint. The girl is precisely asked to go fetch strawberries. And here the Baba and her sheeps don't just freeze to death, they are petrified into the "babele" stones found in the mountains.

Third version: The baba sends her daughter-in-law to the river in winter to clean a very dirty coat until it gets white and shining, but the girl fails to do so and cries. A mysterious man arrives and gives her a snowdrop flower which makes the coat white by magic. When the girl returns with the white coat and the flower in her hair, baba Dochia believes spring is here - and she ends up like in the previous tales, frozen/petrified on the mountain.

Fourth version: Again, Dragobete marries a woman against his mother's will, so the baba Dochia abuses her, and notably sends her wash black wool in a stream until it becomes white (an impossible task). The baba specifically forbids her from returning until the wool is white, and since the girl can only freeze her hands in the cold water she cries about losing her husband (that she loves very much). Jesus then appears and offers her a red flower which makes the wool white. When the girl returns Baba Dochia believes springtime came since a man could pick up a flower - and you know the rest, she goes to the mountain with her nine coats, due to the weather she drops them one by one, and when she gets rid of the last everything suddenly turns cold and she freezes to death. (There's a fifth version which is just this story but with twelve coats instead of nine)

Outside of pure fairytales, if we go more into the folklore and myths, scholars debate the possible origins of the Baba Dochia/Baba Marta. Some believe she might be a character born of the old name of Dacia (Dakia in Latin and medieval Greek, close to "Dochia/Dokia"). Others believe she might have evolved from a Byzantine celebration Eudoxia/Eudokia's martyr on the 1st of March. A third theory is that she is the leftover of an ancient Thracian goddess common to the Romanian and Bulgarian territories, a deity of agriculture, fertility, renewal... But all in all the Baba Dochia/Marta was seen as a weather spirit with a quickly-changing mind, an unstable temper, and as a result needed to be appeased with offerings. Only by these gifts will she make sure winter doesn't last too long and spring returns ( in fairytales it turned into the Dochia's death causing the triumph of spring). A folkloric ritual consists of leaving the offerings by fruit-trees or under rocks, and if they are left under rocks, people then look which kind of insect lives or takes refuge there. Depending on whether it is a millipede, a spider, a cockroach or any other thing, it will form an omen about how the year to come will unfold, turning the Dochia-offering into a divination ritual.

But as I said before, the baba Dochia was mostly seen as a negative entity - it was said she was a spirit of the bad weather who during the nine "babele" (the nine first days of March during which she removes her nine coats) brought snowstorms and cold winds. Another divination ritual had a woman choose randomly one of the nine babele-days: if the day turns out to be good weather, she is promised to stay fair and nice in her old days ; if the day has bad weather, it means she will age into a bitter hag. There's a lot of proverbs and sayings tied to the weather and Dochia - which makes her similar to the German Frau Holle. Of course when people say "Baba Dochia removes one of her coats", it means the weather is very warm ; but when it snows people also say "Baba Dochia is shaking her coat".

The Baba Dochia also appears in a little story that is told all the way across Europe (I know this because just a few days ago I read a variation of it among fairytales of Bretagne). The story always goes the same: there is an arrogant or wicked old woman/shepherdess who for a reason or another mocks or threatens the month of March (here a sentient entity) at the beginning of the year. March, in revenge steals some days from February so that he can come earlier to punish the old lady. In Romania, this old lady is Baba Dochia.

There is also a very WEIRD pseudo-historical legend which tries to explain Baba Dochia as having been a person from the Antique history of the land... According to this tale, Dochia was related to the last Dacian king, Decebalus (she was his sister for some, his daughter for others). When the Roman emperor Trajan conquered the Dacians, Dochia fled into the Carpathian mountains because Trajan wanted to marry her. She disguised herself as a shepherd, and all her servants and followers disguised themselves as sheep. But Trajan kept pursuing her and sending his forces after her, so in despair she prayed to the Dacian god Zalmoxis, who turned her and her fake-sheeps into the Babele stones we can still see today. Quite a strange story, heh?

There's also a Christianized, benevolent version of the Baba Dochia - because of course, Christianity is VERY strong in Romania and gets its hands onto every folkloric character it can (this is why in the Baba Dochia fairytales the Martisor-Prince Spring figure gets so often replaced by Jesus). In this sanitized, Christianized version, baba Dochia was a pious old woman whose prayers for winter to end brought spring... Quite a far move from the wicked stepmother.

As a last note: Baba Dochia's son, Dragobete, also plays a part in the "weather symbolism/calendar meaning" of the fairytale. Because while Martisor is the beginning of spring and Baba Dochia the end of winter, Dragobete is actually an old Romanian god of love (often called the Romanian Eros/Cupid) who is celebrated during the "Dragobetele" celebrations on the 14th of February... The Romanian Saint Valentine's day. Dragobete was called in old pagan traditions "he who bets on love" and "the godfather of animals", because he protected and blessed all couples upon his day - as such, you had a sort of human "Saint Valentine" celebration on his feast-day, but you also had an homage to what was believed to be the "engagement of birds". There's a whole set of traditions and legends surrounding this, which I will not expand upon here, but it makes sense that this spirit of the love-day of February is symbolized as the loving husband of the heroine and the son of the hag of the end of February...

[fibula-rasa]

Lost, but Not Forgotten: What Price Beauty? (1925)

Direction: Thomas Buckingham

Scenario & Story: Natacha Rambova

Titles: Malcolm Stuart Boylan

Production Manager: S. George Ullman

Camera: J. D. Jennings

Art Direction: Natacha Rambova 

Production Design: William Cameron Menzies

Costume Design: Adrian

Studio: Circle Films (Production) & Pathé Exchange (Distribution)

Performers: Nita Naldi, Pierre Gendron, Virginia Pearson, Dolores Johnson, Myrna Loy, Sally Winters, La Supervia, Marilyn Newkirk, Victor Potel, Spike Rankin, Rosalind Byrne, Templar Saxe, Leo White Maybe: John Steppling, Paulette Duval, Dorothy Dwan, and Sally Long

Premiere: None, general release: January 22, 1928

Status: Presumed entirely lost.

Length: Variously reported as 5000 and 4000 feet (more commonly listed as 4000) or 5 reels

Synopsis (synthesized from magazine summaries of the plot):

Mary, a.k.a. “Miss Simplicity” (Dolores Johnson) is a starry-eyed, country-to-city transplant. She works at a beauty shop operated by a glamorous matron (Virginia Pearson) and owned by the young and handsome Clay (Pierre Gendron). 

Mary is in love with Clay, but doesn’t have the nerve or feminine wiles to woo him. The uber-sophisticated Rita (Nita Naldi), however, is chock full of nerves and wile. Rita’s fancy clothes and perfumes and advanced flirting skills leave Mary feeling destined to fail at winning Clay’s amorous attention. 

These feelings sublimate into an expressionistic dream for Mary, where she finds herself transformed into a sophisticate like Rita. Her boss is seen as a magnificent wizard, converting her clients into archetypes of glamour: exotic types, flappers, and sirens. Her competition, Rita, is seen as a bewitching spider.

In the end, surprising Mary, it turns out that her fresh-faced, unassuming charm is more appealing to Clay than Rita’s more practiced charm.

Additional sequence(s) featured in the film (but I’m not sure where they fit in the continuity):

Scene of the trials and tribulations of a fat woman trying to “reduce”

Points of Interest:

Only one quarter of Nita Naldi’s Hollywood films have survived (7 extant titles/21 lost or mostly lost titles).

——— ——— ———

What Price Beauty? was the first and only film produced under Natacha Rambova’s own company. Coordinating production for the film was the business manager for Rambova and her husband Rudolph Valentino, S. George Ullman. The couple met Ullman when he was working for Mineralava beauty products, the sponsor of their 1922-3 dancing tour. 

When Rudolph Valentino entered into a contract with United Artists, said contract reportedly stipulated that Valentino-Rambova were not a package deal. Therefore, Rambova could not collaborate with Valentino on his productions for United. Possibly as consolation, Ullman funded a production for Rambova while Valentino worked on The Eagle (1925, extant).

For Rambova, What Price Beauty? was meant to be a proving ground for her idea that an artistic film could be made on a modest budget. She also wished to remind people that she was a skilled artist in her own right.

In an interview in Picture Play Magazine from August 1925, Rambova asserts:

“…I do not want the production in any sense to be referred to as high-brow or ‘arty’. My reputation for being ‘arty’ is one of the things that I have to live down, and I hope by this picture, which is a comedy—even to the extent of gags and hokum—to overcome that idea. “A woman who marries a celebrity is bound to find herself in a more or less equivocal position, it seems, and her difficulties are only increased when she happens to have had some artistic ambitions of her own before her marriage. I am afraid that those who have accused me of meddling in my husband’s affairs forget that I enjoyed a certain reputation and a very good remuneration for my work as well before I became Mrs. Valentino.”

“What I desire personally is simply to be known for the work which I have always done, and that has brought me a reputation entirely independent of my marriage.”

There isn’t a vast amount of information on what exactly prevented WPB from gaining release in a timely fashion. If the film was truly nothing more than a ploy to separate Rambova from Valentino, that would be an absurd waste of time, money (~$80,000 in 1925 USD), and talent—Rambova employed soon-to-be famous designer Adrian for costumes and William Cameron Menzies for set decoration. Not to mention that, in front of the camera, Nita Naldi was still a popular star and the Rambova discovery, Myrna Loy, made her quickly hyped debut. 

When Pathé finally purchased WPB for distribution in 1928, they did very little to promote the film. Naldi had moved on from the film industry—as had Rambova. And, while Loy hadn’t become the huge star we know today by January of 1928, Warner Brothers had already given her top billing in a number of films. Pathé barely mentions Loy’s role in the little promotion they did do.

To put WPB’s release in the context of Rambova’s personal/professional biography (which you can read more about here):

June/July 1925 – WPB is completed, Rambova and Valentino separate (in July according to Rambova’s mother as quoted in Rambova’s book Rudy)

August 1925 – Rambova leaves Hollywood for New York City, reportedly to negotiate distribution for WPB. She and Valentino would see each other in person for the last time. Rambova leaves NYC for Europe.

September 1925 – Valentino draws up a new will disinheriting Rambova

November 1925 – Rambova returns to the US to act in a film, When Love Grows Cold (1926, presumed lost), a title which Rambova objected to

December 1925 – Rambova files for divorce

August 1926 – Valentino dies 

January 1928 – WPB is finally released with no fanfare by Pathé

In my research for my Rambova cosplay, the suspicious production/release history for this film stood out to me. I hoped that I might find some reliable evidence of whether WPB was a consolation prize and/or a scheme to keep Rambova and Valentino apart. Honestly and unfortunately, circumstantial evidence does support it!

After poring over what few contemporary sources cover WPB, there seemed to be no plan in place for distribution as the film was in production. United Artists, at whose lot the film was shot, claimed to have nothing to do with its release. Ullman had a news item placed about negotiating the distribution rights in the East. However, in Ullman’s own memoir, he admits that when he travelled to New York with Rambova, it was in a personal, not professional capacity—navigating the couple’s separation. (Ullman’s book contains many disprovable claims and misrepresentations, so anything cited from it should be taken with a grain of salt.) That said, Ullman’s failure to secure even a modest distribution deal for WPB in a reasonable timeframe speaks to how ill-founded Valentino’s and Rambova’s trust in his business acumen was.

WPB cost $80,000 to produce, which converts to $1.4 million in 2023 USD. While that wasn’t an outrageous budget for a Hollywood feature film at the time, especially one with such advanced production value, it’s certainly an absurd cost if the goal was only to separate a bankable star from his wife and collaborator.

A close friend and employee of Valentino and Rambova, Lou Mahoney, recalled in Michael Morris’ Madam Valentino:

“The picture was previewed at a theater on the east side of Pasadena, and Mahoney remembered the audience reaction as positive, but, thereafter, What Price Beauty? was consigned to oblivion. Mahoney knew why: ‘No help came from anyone, no thoughts of trying to get this picture properly released. No help came from Ullman, Schenck, or anybody else. Their whole thought was that if the picture were a success, Mrs. Valentino would be a success. She would then start producing under the Rudolph Valentino Production Company. But this nobody wanted—except herself, and Mr. Valentino.’”

——— ——— ———

The few reviews from 1928 that I was able to find are not very complimentary of WPB. The critics seem thrown by the film’s tone or genre—reading it as a drama. (Part of that is Pathé’s fault as they listed it as one.) But, according to sources contemporary to WPB’s production, it was intended to be a farcical satire of the beauty industry and social expectations of feminine beauty. Given the simple story, the intentional typage of characters (“The Sport,” “The Sissy,” and “Miss Simplicity”), and the over-the-top-but-on-a-budget art design of WPB, all signs point to high camp. In 1925 as well as 1928, the stodgier side of the critical spectrum would likely fail to see its appeal.

It’s a true shame we can’t find out for ourselves how good, bad, or campy WPB was as of yet, but here’s hoping the film resurfaces!

More about Rambova

GIFs of some of her design work on film

☕Appreciate my work? Buy me a coffee! ☕

Transcribed Sources & Annotations over on the WMM Blog!

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Jumping on the pro-Castlereagh propaganda bandwagon from earlier (apologies for the long post but gotta help my boy out): 

There are far too many contemporaries talking about how good-looking he was. Even his detractors agree he was pretty but here are some of my fave quotes: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “He was above six feet high and had a remarkably fine commanding figure, very fine dark eyes, rather a high nose and a mouth whose smile was sweeter than it is possible to describe. It was impossible to look at him & see the benevolent and amiable expression of his countenance without a disposition to like him, and over his whole person was spread an air or dignity & nobleness such as I have never seen in any other person… He was excessively agreeable, a great favourite amongst women & used occasionally to excite Ly Londonderry’s jealousy; but he was the kindest and most affectionate of husbands”

Lady Bughersh: “You never saw such a beauty as Lord Castlereagh has become. He is as brown as a berry, with a fine bronzed colour, and wears a fur cap with gold, and is really quite charming. There never was anybody so looked up to as he is here.”

John Wilson Croker: “Londonderry goes on as usual, and to continue my similes, like Mont Blanc continues to gather all the sunshine upon his icy head…. It is a splendid summit of bright and polished frost which, like the travellers in Switzerland, we all admire.”

During a state visit to Ireland, the unpopular Castlereagh joked the crowds cheered for him solely due to his personal beauty

I kid you not but he was the hottest person at George IV’s coronation! How attractive must you be to accidentally outshine the monarch at their own goddamn coronation with many other sexymen present - if you don’t believe me: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “his dress was beautiful, his hat bound round with the most splendid diamonds & he looked handsomer than I ever saw him; the people echoed his name from one to the other the whole length of the platform & received him with repeated cheers. It was unanimously voted that he was the handsomest man in the procession” 

Walter Scott: “If you ask me to distinguish who bore him best, and appeared most to sustain the character we annex to the assistants in such a solemnity, I have no hesitation to name Lord Londonderry, who, in the magnificent robes of the Garter… and by his fine face and majestic person formed an adequate representative of the order of Edward III, the costume of which was worn by his Lordship deserving the baton, which was never grasped by so worthy a hand.”

Apparently multiple folks commented he looked so regal in his Garter robes that one might mistake him for the sovereign

Also as reference - this is what he looked like on the day of the coronation (can you believe this man was 52??)

Was also hella competent - he was known for his work ethic and attention to detail but he literally helped establish the idea of the European balance of power (aka the thing that prevented conflict on the scale of the Napoleonic Wars from occurring for the next 100 years) 

Just some fun anecdotes: 

According to the Austrian police reports, while in Vienna he and his wife went to every shop, asked to be shown every item in the shop… and bought absolutely nothing

He fought a duel in 1809 because George Canning tried to kick him out of Cabinet and half of their colleagues (incl. Castlereagh’s own uncle) kept Canning’s insistent demands/threats a secret from Castlereagh for ~6 months. His opponent never had shot a pistol prior to this (his second had to help load the gun as he didn’t trust the guy to do it correctly) while Castlereagh was known as a good shot. Add in the fact that 3 Wellesleys were tangentially involved - this entire event was bonkers

After an author read aloud some of her novel to him, he was so impressed that he arranged a meeting with the publisher in his own study. The author recalls how Castlereagh was standing there while she signed the new agreement with the publisher 

He had a strange hobby - Castlereagh said he has "not thought of anything of late but of sheep farming” and his wife joked that he “shall soon bleat and be covered with wool.’’ He even won an award for his wool!

Despite being in a non-dangerous occupation, he was quite badass: 

At age 17, Castlereagh saved a classmate from drowning by keeping him afloat in a cold lake for more than an hour after their boat capsized

During a stormy voyage to Dublin, he jumped on the chains that supported the mast to rescue a man who fell overboard - especially daring when out of the 5 ships sailing out of the departing port, 3 sank (all onboard died) bc of the storm

3 men tried to rob him - I say tried bc he just shot one of them in the neck with a pistol, was able to subdue the second with the help of a bystander, and the last guy simply fled

He was just a nice person? Castlereagh contributed to various charities and there’s a story that the day following his death, one of his servants was asked if they observed any change in him. The response? “One day he spoke sharply to me!”

Even one of his greatest political rivals admitted if you “put all their other men together in one scale, and poor Castlereagh in the other—single, he plainly weighed them down... Also, he was a gentleman, and the only one amongst them.” 

Ngl, surprised that you didn’t use this lovely portrait of him: 

But also this bust and coin tho: 

Bonus: Good looks seem to run in the family (go check out the portrait of his brother Charles by Thomas Lawerence)

.

[cetaitlaverite]

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

masterlist is here <3

30. One Day

The hotel receptionist was craning her neck to check for wedding rings before Freddie and Rosie had even reached the desk. They walked over side by side, each holding their overnight bags - Rosie resented having to make Freddie carry her own but his arm was still very much broken - and the receptionist, likely used to young, unmarried couples staying in the hotel while on leave in the city, was immediately sceptical.

“Hello,” Freddie chirped once they were standing in front of the desk. It was ornate, wooden and intricate and elegant, much like the rest of the lobby. Freddie wondered how much it was going to cost them to stay here.

Rosie’s smile was somewhat more subtle than Freddie’s. “We, uh, we’ve got a reservation. Under Rosenthal.”

The receptionist could not have looked more suspicious as she checked in the book on the desk in front of her for the name. “Ah,” she declared once she found it, sliding her finger along the line to read the rest of the information Rosie had given over the phone. “A double room. You’re on your honeymoon, you said?”

This detail was news to Freddie, but she grinned back at the middle aged woman with nothing short of newlywed joy. Setting her suitcase down at her feet, she proudly lifted her left hand to display the fake wedding ring on her ring finger. “We just got married yesterday!” she cheered, then flipped her hand to let the woman ogle the ring if she wanted to, the way she thought she might do if she really had just gotten married. “Isn’t it such a beautiful ring? Robert picked it out!”

The woman, happily appeased, nodded as she gushed over Freddie’s ring. Rosie had bought it second hand from a pawn shop, he’d told her. It couldn’t have been real gold but it looked the part, at least.

“Beautiful,” the receptionist assured Freddie, giving her back her hand. “You both make such a handsome couple! When did you meet?”

“Just over a year ago, now,” Freddie replied, wrapping her arms around Rosie’s good arm and resting her temple on his bicep. “He’s a pilot at the airfield I’ve been working at for a long time. Came right in and swept me off my feet, as I’m sure you can imagine.” She shared a knowing smirk with the woman who had obviously already acknowledged Rosie’s handsomeness, as women tended to.

“A whirlwind romance,” the receptionist said with a smile. “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”

“If there’s one thing wars seem to be good for, it's true love,” Freddie agreed. “Many of my friends have also found their soulmates while doing war work. But my husband’s plane went down a couple of weeks ago, hence the broken arm, and it shook us both so badly we decided we absolutely had to get married this instant.” She winked at the receptionist as she added, “And with a handsome face like my husband’s I thought it would be wise to snap him right up before someone else does. He’s stuck with me forever now.”

The receptionist was grinning at Freddie’s performance, thoroughly charmed. “Well, I wish you both years and years of happiness.”

“Thank you,” Freddie said, while Rosie mumbled the same. Shooting him a sly look out of the corner of her eye, Freddie continued, “Are you married, ma’am?”

“I am,” answered the receptionist.

Freddie smiled. She, too, could spy for wedding rings. “Might I ask you a question? I’m new at this marriage business, obviously, and my mum’s in Oxford so I can’t ask her just now.”

The woman tutted apologetically, a sad smile on her face as she tilted her head. “Of course, dear.”

Freddie could see Rosie’s face and the confusion written across it out of the corner of her eye as he watched her, waiting for what she was about to ask. But she paid him no heed, focusing all of her attention on the woman before her, once so severe and serious and now utterly maternal. 

“Do you think,” Freddie began, “that I should be worried if my husband has been aware for a long while now that one of our mutual friends has been cheating on his wife back home but hasn’t said anything about it? I don’t want a husband who condones cheating, after all.”

Now the woman’s tut was disapproving. “Now, what way is that to start a marriage?” she asked Rosie. “No secrets are to be kept between husbands and wives, even those you think aren’t important.”

“So you do think I should be worried!” Freddie deduced, triumphant. She’d already had this debate with Rosie, of course.

“Well,” the woman said, and Freddie could tell that she was about to lose the debate after all, “just because his friend cheated doesn’t mean he will. And just because he kept mum about it doesn’t mean he supports it. Men’s relationships to each other are different to women’s, Mrs Rosenthal, and you have to remember that.”

Freddie considered this. “I see your point,” she conceded finally.

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” the receptionist went on, “I should think he’s still obliged to do some hefty grovelling, and what better time than a honeymoon? But I wouldn’t be too hard on your fella. He looks like a good sort to me.”

Freddie smiled, pressing herself closer to Rosie’s arm for a moment. “I’d have to agree with you there.”

The receptionist smiled and retrieved their room key for them, then wished them a happy honeymoon and gave them the address to a nice restaurant and sent them on their way.

They didn’t speak all the way up to their room on the second floor, but once Rosie shut the door behind him he turned to Freddie with a frown.

Freddie only grinned at him. “Oh, my sweet, sweet love,” she crooned, crossing the floor to him and taking his cheeks into her hands. “Don’t be upset with me for seeking a third opinion. She doesn’t know us, nor does she know Croz, so it doesn’t do any harm.”

“Why do you need a third opinion on a conversation between the two of us?” Rosie grumbled, eyebrows furrowed.

Freddie smiled adoringly, using her hands to squish his cheeks together. “Because you’re so perfect I find it impossibly tempting to try to seek out flaws every now and again. Communication isn’t necessarily one of your strong suits just yet, sweetness, but we’re working on it, aren’t we?”

Rosie huffed. “Fred, don’t make me argue with you.”

“On our honeymoon?” Freddie asked with a mock gasp. “Never! They gave us a fancy room with a bed with rose petals, so arguing is strictly forbidden.”

Rosie rolled his eyes. “So stop provoking me.”

“Are you upset with me?” Freddie asked sincerely, letting her hands fall to rest on his shoulders. “I’m only playing. The whole thing with Croz did bother me, yes, but I’m inclined to agree with the receptionist that I shouldn’t take it to heart. I’d just prefer if you’d tell me things.”

“Do you tell me all the details of Mils and Jem’s lives?” Rosie challenged.

Freddie thought about Jem and Paddy and the sworn secrecy of that situation. An embarrassed heat filled her cheeks. “Well, no.” But that was a different situation. Wasn’t it?

Yes, Freddie decided, it was.

Rosie raised his eyebrows at Freddie, as if to say, there you go. And there was absolutely nothing she could say to defend herself.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Your point is taken. I just feel so dirty about the whole thing. But anyway.” She shook her head and her shoulders, trying to rid herself of the preoccupation she’d had with this whole situation ever since she’d first confronted Croz about it. “I don’t want to talk about Croz anymore. He’s had his warning about doing it again, as has he had his backside firmly handed to him for doing it in the first place. So let’s not talk about him. I want to talk about us.”

“What about us?” Rosie asked. He looked suspicious, as though preparing himself for another argument, but let Freddie take the hand which wasn’t in a sling and slowly walk him with her to the king sized bed in the centre of the room.

“Well,” Freddie started, tilting her head to the side with a coquettish smile, “this is the first time we’ve ever been properly, entirely alone. No mechanics who might be working on the planes in the middle of the night, no bunkmates to walk in, no parents to stay quiet for. A big bed like this and a room to ourselves. What ever shall we do with it?”

Finally, Rosie started to smile back at her as she came to sit on the edge of the bed. “I can think of a few ideas.”

“Mm,” Freddie hummed, “and it is our honeymoon, after all. And I think you and I both know what happens on honeymoons.”

Rosie laughed, kneeling down on the floor in front of her to get himself down to her eye level. “I’ve got an idea, yeah.”

“Good,” Freddie replied, grinning. “I’d hate for a fancy bed like this to go to waste.”

They didn’t make it out to dinner that night. Instead, Rosie forced himself back into his uniform so he could head out and bring something back for them, then promptly undressed again at Freddie’s insistence so they could eat together in their underwear on the floor in their room. 

They left the curtains open and the blackout blinds up to let the muffled noises from the street below in, so they could watch as a gentle rain knocked at the window and begged to be let into the fairytale world they’d created for themselves inside, where everything was warm and happy and safe.

Freddie sat herself in Rosie’s lap as soon as they’d finished eating, nuzzling into his neck and sighing contentedly as he wrapped his good arm all the way around her, making up for the present immobility of the other one.

“I’m so happy right now,” she confessed with a smile, curling her own arms around Rosie’s back. She started to draw pictures with her fingertips, grazing her freshly painted nails lightly over his skin like paintbrushes on a canvas.

Rosie hummed in reply to her. “Me too, sweetheart. Couldn’t be happier.”

The rest of Freddie’s life could be like this, she thought. She could spend every evening and every weekend wrapped up in this beautiful man, eating late into the night because they’d been so preoccupied making love, never straying too far apart for too long.

“Are there any good music schools in New York?” she asked after a short pause.

She felt Rosie go still beneath her. When he leaned back to try to get a look at her face she sat back herself to let him, wide-eyed and shy.

Rosie cupped her cheek in his hand, a question in his eyes.

Freddie nodded, blinking doe eyes up at him as she waited for his response.

Slowly, enchantingly, a big smile spread itself across his lips. “You want to come to New York?” he breathed.

Bashful, Freddie shrugged. “I thought it might be nice. If you still want me.”

“Oh, Fred, I want you more than anything,” Rosie vowed to her, gathering her up against his chest. “There’s an amazing music school in Manhattan. Juilliard, if you’ve heard of it. It’s exclusively for classical musicians.”

Freddie sat up straight, her interest piqued. “It is?”

Rosie started grinning. “It’s one of the best music schools in the world. Tons of famous concert pianists and composers trained there.”

Freddie’s eyes were all lit up with stars. “Do you think they’d take me?”

“In a heartbeat,” Rosie assured her, his eyes similarly shining with joy. “They’d snap you up as soon as you played a note.”

“I wonder if they’d take my dad on as a professor,” Freddie ventured carefully. “He has a good reputation in Europe and a lot of experience at prestigious institutions.”

Rosie was still grinning even as he furrowed his eyebrows. “Have you asked your parents if they’d wanna come?”

Freddie’s answering smile was sheepish. “Well,” she hedged, “not yet, but I’m sure they would. I’m their only child and all my grandparents are either dead or in Vienna, so it’s not as though they have loyalties elsewhere in England. It would be a big upheaval -” Here, Freddie sighed out a laugh, as full of relief as it was anxiety, “- but if my parents and the dogs could all come then I think New York with you would be a dream.”

“I’ll buy you the prettiest house, Fred,” Rosie declared, smiling big and bright. “With a yard full of flowers just like you want. And I’ll buy you a beautiful piano to put in the living room so you can practise for school.”

Freddie’s smile was equally as wide. “I want to have lights up at Christmas,” she informed him. “We haven’t gotten to do that in so long because of the blackout. And a big bed like this one in our bedroom.”

Rosie laughed. “I’ll buy you roses everyday so you can sprinkle the petals on the sheets.”

“And I’ll buy you hundreds of books to fill an entire room with. We can make it into an office for your lawyer stuff. Oh! And a record player for the living room so we can dance.”

“I’ve already got a record player, honey,” Rosie told her, kissing the tip of her nose. “But if you wanna get a new one we can get a new one.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Freddie reassured him with a quiet laugh. “I forget you’ve moved out already. Your stuff’s not all collecting dust in your flat, is it?”

“My ma goes in to clean pretty often,” Rosie replied. “When my sisters want space they go to stay there, too, so it’s still being used.”

“Do you think your sisters will like me?”

Grinning, Rosie stroked Freddie’s cheek and pushed some of her hair behind her ear. “They’ll love you,” he asserted. “They’ll probably make you teach them the piano.”

Freddie smiled, taking hold of his wrist to guide his hand back to her cheek and then resting her face in it. “I’d be delighted to teach them.”

“Would you teach me?” Rosie laughed as he spoke. “I gotta warn you that I’ve got no musical talent.”

“I’ll make a star student out of you, darling,” Freddie declared. “You’re already very dedicated to your German studies.” His accent was terrible but he was working so hard on his pronunciation, and he was always so eager to repeat phrases she’d taught him after he’d gone away to practise that it made her heart melt.

“Ich liebe dich,” Rosie said, because that was his favourite German phrase of all. “Und ich bin glücklich, dass - dass -”

“It’s a hard one,” Freddie soothed him when he struggled to form the rest of the sentence. “What are you trying to say? You’re happy that…”

He was blushing, clearly frustrated with his own lack of skill with the language. “Nevermind. I’ll work on it.”

Freddie smiled softly and reached to cup both of his cheeks. “Tell me in English. What makes you happy, my darling love?”

“The thought of getting to live with you after the war.” His smile was soft and warm and affectionate. Freddie’s favourite smile. “We could spend every night like this.”

Freddie smiled wide, because she’d thought the same thing a little while ago herself. “We could,” she agreed. “We will.”

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re the happiest woman in the world, Fred,” Rosie promised. “There ain’t a single thing you’d want for, I promise.”

“Getting to be with you would make me the happiest woman in the world in itself,” Freddie assured him softly. “You don’t need to go spending loads of money and buying loads of things to keep me happy, honey. I know I’m spoilt -” she rolled her eyes as Rosie laughed, “- but I’m not so hard to please. You’ve never struggled, at least, and we don’t have much in the way of presents to give each other while the world is still at war.”

“Well, I’ll start with the house,” Rosie conceded, laughing along with Freddie. Their eyes were so fond as they gazed at each other, warm and in love.

“That does seem like a good place to start,” Freddie agreed.

They spent the rest of the night in much the same way they’d spent it before eating dinner and woke up late the following morning. They didn’t have to be out of the hotel until one o’clock in the afternoon, so they took advantage of getting to lay in and made love by the light of late morning.

Then finally, reluctantly, they dragged themselves out of bed to get ready to leave the hotel and head out into the city. Back on went their uniforms, a stark reminder of the war still very much raging on outside the walls of the hotel, and Rosie sat on the bed and watched Freddie do her makeup at the desk in the corner with an adoring smile. He sat quietly in the same chair afterwards and didn’t utter a word as he let Freddie do his hair for him, since she’d been asking for months and months by now, and she was so proud of her work and so sweet about her compliments for him afterward that he kissed her again and again.

They were late heading down to the hotel lobby to check out but the same receptionist was on duty this morning as had been last night and she didn’t mind. She wore a knowing smile as she accepted their room key from them and as Rosie paid for the room, then took their bags to store them safely until they needed to take the train back to East Anglia.

“Five free hours and nowhere to be,” Freddie said as they stepped out into the late summer sunshine hand in hand. “The world is our oyster.”

“Lunch first?” Rosie suggested as they started aimlessly down the street.

Freddie hummed. “Yes. I’m starving.” They’d skipped breakfast and were almost regretting it now, though neither of them could entirely bring themselves to resent the decision to stay in bed instead.

The hours passed them by rapidly. Lunch and shopping and sitting in Regents Park, walking along the Thames and trying not to linger outside of bombed out houses. London was both lively and dead at the same time, full of people struggling their way through a war which had gone on far too long and plagued by the ghosts of people who would never see the end of it.

Nonetheless, it was with heavy hearts that Freddie and Rosie boarded their train back to Thorpe Abbotts later that evening. It had been such a blissful escape. But all good things had to come to an end and they couldn’t pretend the war was finished forever, not when there were still bombs to drop and German fighter pilots to manipulate, populations on the mainland which needed freeing. It was a long fight, this one, much longer than Freddie had anticipated when she’d dropped out of university to follow Daniel to an airfield up north, and it didn’t really feel like it would ever end.

Freddie sighed once they were sitting in a train carriage, resting her head against Rosie’s shoulder and shutting her eyes. The blackout blinds on the train windows were down. There was nothing to look at anyway.

“I wish every weekend was like this one,” Freddie mumbled, taking the hand of his unbroken arm and holding it in her lap.

Rosie kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”

“One day,” she whispered, snuggling further into him. The tiredness from being up all night was catching up with her now - and with Rosie, too, judging by the way he started to slouch into his seat.

“One day,” he agreed softly.

Freddie fell asleep into dreams of brownstone houses, pianos in living rooms and flowers in gardens, a room full of books and a man waiting for her in a king size bed. It had been a long time by now since she’d dreamed of a future beyond the war. Now, even with no end in sight, it felt closer than it ought to. So close she let herself believe it might come soon.