#stone hot tub frame

[teamodiyemeyenkiz]

Hot Tub Pool San Francisco Mid-sized transitional backyard custom-shaped and tile hot tub photo

[shunkoku]

Hot Tub - Craftsman Pool Mid-sized craftsman backyard hot tub design featuring kidney-shaped stones.

[8o8sims]

Water Slide Pool

[dennismcollage]

Exterior in Chicago

[viirinsims]

Atlanta Craftsman Pool Idea for a hot tub: a medium-sized craftsman-style backyard with kidney-shaped concrete pavers.

[mypixelstories]

Mediterranean Pool in Los Angeles

[deisegal]

Natural Stone Pavers - Front Yard

[blacksheeptown]

Contemporary Landscape in New York

[mrsoharaa]

˚₊ ‧ ꒰ა🤍 ໒꒱ ‧ ₊˚

Satoru has no concept of personal space or boundaries, so when he senses you taking a long, dark, candle lit bubble bath in his master bathroom, alone...best believe that man is thrashing through the door like a shameless, needy buffoon that he is.

The slick coat that covered your pretty skin, the flickering small light of the cackling flames from the candles peppering your soaked flesh with such beautiful colored hues complimenting your complexion almost rakes out every heavy breath panting from the gawking, white haired mans lungs. Completely sets down the bag of goodies he had stopped to get for you (since he knew you were on your period, he actually took the time after training his students to pick you up some supplies and your favorite snacks) onto the sink next to him.

His heart races fervently against his hefty chest, blinded sight practically searing through the thin binding covering his perfect, awe-struck vision.

He leisurely sits himself down next to you on the edge of the tub, one hand reaching for your soapy lathered leg and massaging the supple, smooth skin. Almost makes you melt under his wooing touch, leaning your head back against the back of the wide marbled tub as you feel your body coax perfectly with the hot, bubbly water basking into your tense skin and Satoru's generous soothing massage.

A soft, satisfied sigh leaves your lips, all worries and stress evaporating from your aching body. You glance over to the grinning, lanky man still massaging your relaxed limb, feeling his languid fingers gradually linger more further upward with enticing grazes.

You tilt your head lazily over onto your shoulder, lips curling into a tight smile, eyes focused intently on his slick maneuvering.

"Satoru" you finally murmur with a shrill threat dipping into your soft voice, he simply hums nonchalantly. As though he doesn't know what he is doing, also tilting his head as an act to his faulty innocence. His fingers continue to skim up along the pliable flesh of your legs to your mid thighs.

An electrical shiver crawls all through your lower body up to the arch of your spine from his not-so-subtle touches.

"I didn't start a bath just for you to seduce me, dummy" you twitch your leg a bit from him, but his grasp had already tighten, bringing it back to his gracious touches. He chuckles lightly, tracing soft shapes along the plush of your mid thighs with cooing strokes.

"Could've fooled me love" he remarks, laughing at the subtle splashes you made towards his slick retort, hitting nothing but his invisible shield (Infinity) blocking from staining into his clothes.

"Seriously Satoru, I just want to relax" you whine dramatically, leaning your head back against the marbled stone of the tubs back, untensing your shoulders and leg muscles.

"I'm here to help you with that baby...just let me help you, that's all I want to do" his crisp voice draws you in, glimpsing back at him wearing such a serious and intent look (so not like him, and that lets you know how serious he was actually being).

Your brows perch highly, adjusting your body as you lean forward closer towards your leering towering boyfriend, carefully removing your leg from his clasp. Your arms cross over one another amongst the side of the tub, resting your chin on your forearms as you gently poke and stroke at his pants against his knee. All while lazily starring up at him.

"No funny business though Satoru, my body is yelling at me and my uterus is already twisting in ways it shouldn't" you sigh in defeat, watching the excitement quickly sprawl all across the sorcerers flawless face, like a child getting permission to pick out their favorite toy from a store.

Doesn't take him long to fling off the restricting clothing confining his surprisingly bulked, well fit stature. Pooling the nuisance of cloth against the frame of the creaked door, carefully maneuvering into the tub behind you, and wrapping his prolong, burly arms around your smaller figure. Pulling you in close into his firm chest, with your back flushed perfectly against his welcoming skin.

You carefully lay your head back against his chest, listening to the steady heart beats and breathing rhythmically waft through his chest. The warmth and comfort of his beefy arms securing you closely into his enthralling embrace. Feeling ever so safe and adored by him. Entrapped by his weighing, soothing presence.

Your eyes slowly peek up to meet his closed ones, carefully studying, admiring the beautiful snowy curled lashes gently grazing his skin beneath his eyes. The scattered imprinted marks from his strenuous fight with Sukuna, decorating ever so breathtakingly along his luscious flesh. He was a beautifully decorated canvas that told lulling stories, a sheer work of art through your eyes that you didn't think you'd come to know and love. A pillar of pure enchantment and unyielding love.

Lost in your own wonderment and awe, you hadn't realize the growing smirk playfully tugging at the sorcerers lips, perking down at you. With one eye peered open, taking in your greedy admiration for the man, Satoru could only wallow away in the intent adoration and gawking you were bathing him in. Feeding into his attention hunger and ego.

"You know the more you stare, the harder it is for me to not to appreciate you more, myself baby" his smooth voice chuckles coyly, adoring the sudden fluster draw out along your face. His arms locking in more firmly around you from squirming out of his grasp, holding you close and steady against his built. His glossed lips meet the open span of your torrid cute cheek, placing a gentle, tender kiss upon the plush flesh.

"S-shut up Satoru...I was just...looking" you pout softly, whipping your head back forwardly as you adjust your body against his.

Finally finding a comfortable position for yourself, you could feel the heat of his breath fan against the shell of your right ear, his chin nestled ever so comfortably amongst your shoulder, arms still latched safely around you. Completely and utterly content.

"You're so cute, my cute little soon to be wifey" he toys subtly, gingerly nipping at your ear lobe, snickering at your jolt to his actions. Feels your shoulders nudge against him, smirking ever so smugly and childishly as he always does.

"Satoru, I will kick you out if you don't stop" you warn, face still hot from the steam of your bath to the growing flustering blooming throughout your entire body. He laughs carefully, detaching his teeth from your lobe as he settles back gently onto your shoulder, this time resting his cheek flatly against the supple skin. Humming, almost purring to the consoling touch of your skin masking with his.

His smooth lips brushes faintly against your neck, pressing delicate kisses upon the inviting space.

"Haha...I'm sorry sweetheart, here let me just...hold you...let me take care of you, my love" he sweetly croons into your neck.

"Let me tend to you...can I spoil you princess? I'll pamper you, make you dinner and everything...tonight is all about you, my heart, service and entirety is yours to command" he gives you another subtle kiss against your neck, feeling you tense up to the warm, fuzzy touch of his silky lips. Breathing ever so lightly to his every touch and pledges to you.

You hum to yourself, leaning your head a bit as you raise your right hand to cup his cheek and smile, glancing in his direction.

"Aren't you being such a sweet kiss up? but...of course 'Toru, tend to me tonight please...I missed you and your touch honestly" you mumble softly, melding deep into his endearing embrace, readjusting your body to face him directly as you cup both of your hands onto his cheeks. A honed smile gracious his face, leans into the warm invite of your palms, kissing delicately amongst your skin.

Big, round globes of brighten cerulean meets your generous gaze, his hands draping over the curves of your body.

"The feelings mutual baby...of course I'll tend to you, that's all I ever want to do...want to make you feel good, want to make you feel safe, loved and absolutely adored...I want to hand you the world and then more"

˚₊ ‧ ꒰ა 🤍 ໒꒱ ‧ ₊˚

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Very nice 1963 mid-century modern A-Frame in Rhododendron, OR. 2bds, 1ba, asking $649K.

Very nice. A-Frames usually have nice spiral stairs and cozy fireplaces. This one has a nice stone one. The living room is a pretty good size.

The fireplace has a nice heat insert.

Washer and dryer are tucked behind the stairs. Not an ideal situation, but I'd rather have them there than not at all.

The dining area is roomy and has a cute little heat stove in the corner plus doors to the patio and hot tub.

Nice, but small, kitchen along the wall. I like the shiny gray cabinets, but there's no dishwasher or exhaust over the stove.

For $649K I would like more of a kitchen.

The single bath is a shower room. Very standard sink.

On the 2nd level there's the primary bedroom. It's a fairly small room and for privacy it has curtains.

There's nice stone on the right and full-size stairs to a 3rd level.

They've got this room set up as a sitting room. A smaller set of stairs goes up to a 4th level.

They've got a mattress in there.

So, this would be the 2nd bedroom. It's cute.

With this sitting room, it's like a suite.

Looking down at the living room from the stairs.

There's a deck in front of the house.

And, a patio with a hot tub in the back.

There's also a large shed on the 4,791 sq ft lot. I'm not so sure that I would pay $649 for this.

https://www.redfin.com/OR/Rhododendron/25240-E-Tiger-Lily-Dr-97049/home/56832571

[cauldronblssd]

Watch It Glow

CH 1/5 | Read on AO3

For @elucienweekofficial Day 1 - Fated

Thank you to my wonderful betas, @climbthemountain2020 and @witch-and-her-witcher.

Iron bars greeted Elain as she opened her eyes. Everywhere she looked, she found it - iron bars on the windows to a yard gated by iron and stone walls, iron knobs on the door to her bedroom, and an iron ring, flanked with pearls, covering her finger. She’d tried to soften the effect with breezy yellow curtains and flowers by the window. She begrudgingly replaced them every few days, the room didn’t get enough sun to grow anything. 

The thick wool of a rug served as a barrier between her bare feet and the cold stone floor as she stepped out of bed. A tray with tea and her morning breakfast rested along the table in the corner. Elain wrapped a warm robe in her favorite shade of green around her body to fight against the chill. Despite all of the color she spread around the room, the gray stones of the walls seemed to leech any light and happiness from the space. Every step she took seemed to echo around her. Aside from a few servants, she would be alone in the manor for most of the day.

Elain squeezed a slice of lemon into her tea before lifting the mug, letting the steam waft into her face. This time in the morning was one of the few simple pleasures of the day she allowed herself to savor. She sat at the table, reading correspondence that had collected from the day before.  A few of the noble families had moved back to the village to rebuild, and the Asters had invited her to a ball they would be holding in a few weeks' time. She read three more letters in the same vein, each polite but mundane in nature. The letter she hoped for, from Feyre or Nesta, would not come by post, but would be spelled to her room directly. It had been a concession that Rhysand demanded, allowing her to stay in contact with her sisters, even if it must be discreet. At the time, she’d requested nothing for herself, allowing her family and her betrothed to make the negotiations on her behalf. Now, she felt grateful that Rhys had been so forceful in his requests.

Setting her empty teacup down with a pleasant clink, she headed to her adjoining bathing chamber to draw a hot bath. She could avoid her duties for a little longer, relishing this time before the sun had fully risen. Afterwards, Elain would be spending long hours running the manor. She’d lost two members of her staff in the recent months, and replacing them had been harder than she’d hoped. Despite their advertisements in local papers for their town and the next several over, the pay did not entice anyone to leave their current position.

Not to mention, so few people were willing to live so close to the place where the wall had once been. Neighboring towns murmured that it was cursed, that dark magic lingered. Others feared the new treaties would be impossible to enforce with no wall or wards to prevent faeries from coming to snatch humans away, as they had once done. While Elain would like to refute this particular fear, she couldn’t deny it, given that what happened to her own sister had launched the series of events that led to her being made fae.

Elain sank into the tub, letting her muscles relax as the hot water seeped into her body. She always felt cold, either due to the cold gray skies or her too thin frame. She draped her long hair down the back of the tub to keep it from getting wet as she submerged further, letting the water rise to her chin. 

Just thinking of the faeries in the neighboring court made her nervous. Her own secrets felt too precarious. Her hold on her magic felt shaky, and she worried that just the presence of other fae might trigger an unwanted release of her powers. Elain nervously felt the tips of her ears, reassuring herself that the glamour remained firmly in place. Even in her own chambers, she never let it slip. She couldn’t risk alerting the servants. Her marriage, too, depended on her willful denial of all things magic.

The truth of who she was, what happened to her, felt too painful to acknowledge. Most days, her old human body felt like a comfort. Other days, it felt like chains from which she couldn’t free herself. She hadn’t seen her own, true face, in years. It felt disorienting to forget the particulars of her own features, like a distant relative. Even her movements, she forced herself to alter. Elain had quickly adjusted to the easy, graceful gait of the fae. Upon her return to the human lands, she’d retrained herself into her old, clumsy posture, moving her hips more stiffly or stepping a hair too loudly.

Elain regretfully extricated herself from the bath, wrapping a towel around her body. She chose an elegant but simple day dress from her wardrobe, the same as what she wore most days when not expecting guests. She tightened the stays around her waist and breasts. Between her frail frame and her naturally small breasts, she doubted anyone would notice if she forwent the constricting garment, but propriety demanded it. 

Long before her engagement, before Feyre had ever hunted down the wolf, Elain had been regarded as beautiful. Her own mother dismissed her for it, seeing her as destined only for a marriage based on her beauty. Her husband, too, had often remarked on it. It had been one of the first things he spoke to her of when they danced at a ball. Glamoured to her old human self, something about her appearance never seemed quite right. Her features remained soft, her eyes a shade of warm brown. She meticulously cared for her loose curls, and they shone as any human woman’s might. It seemed dull to her now. 

Something shifted imperceptibly, it was her own face, but not. She wondered if Rhysand had not captured her human features completely when he’d glamoured her, or if she just had lost appreciation for her own face and body.

Elain inhaled deeply before gripping the iron door to her room and trudging down the hall. She walked down the stairs to the dining room, meeting the cook to review the menu for dinner that evening. The maids and kitchen staff offered her polite nods or small smiles as they passed by her. She longed to talk to them, befriend them, but had been scolded that it was not proper for the lady of the house to spend time with the staff. Who she was meant to interact with was less clear, given that there were no ladies to invite to tea, and she saw her own husband only for dinner before retiring to separate rooms.

The only lady of significance in the village lived just a few miles from her own home, but they did not see each other. Lord Nolan had gifted the property on the outskirts of the village to Queen Vassa in hopes of securing her favor once she returned to the throne. What a queen would want with such a plain and unwelcoming house, she didn’t know. Of all the places for a queen to reside, she certainly would never have chosen her own humble village.

After the war, when she had settled into her routine as the lady of the Manor and a married woman, she’d written on a few occasions to inquire after the queen to invite her to tea or simply to ask after her wellbeing. She’d never received a response, even to decline her offer. She suspected that the messages never truly made it to the fiery queen, but she could never prove it. Graysen often met with her on some official business or another, but she had never been invited to join him and he rebuffed any of the questions.

Once, she’d glimpsed the queen in her firebird form. Even with talons and flamed feathers, she still exuded royal grace as she sailed above. The queen had released a screech that she could have sworn had been directed at her. She didn’t know if a bird’s caw could have a tone, but she felt certain there was unspoken judgment in that sound. It was that memory that prevented Elain from pressing Graysen or Lord Nolan further to visit the queen. Perhaps he had delivered her messages, and only meant to spare her feelings that the queen did not want to see her.

If Vassa resented Elain’s place in the village, she supposed she couldn’t blame her. They had both had their human bodies and mortal lifespans stolen from them. But while the queen was forced to relinquish her womanly form each day to take to the skies, Elain remained comfortably hidden amongst the humans in secret. She’d never had another vision of the queen since the war ended. She suppressed her own powers through sheer force of will and a weekly dose of fae bane. Occasionally, she considered loosening her hold on her magic, just so she could see if she could summon another vision for Vassa. Perhaps if she did, the Queen might consider inviting her into her home.

Jurian, her general and living companion, was another matter. She had seen him, once or twice, reviewing some security measures with Graysen and Lord Nolan, pacing the fields of ash groves that lay behind the manor. It didn't seem entirely proper to live alone with the general. From what Elain knew, Vassa did not keep servants and did not have any other family or court members in her home. To live unmarried with a man would be scandalous by most standards, but she supposed royalty adhered to different rules than lords and ladies.

From what she knew of the queen, she eschewed tradition anyway, much to the Nolan’s chagrin. They believed that ladies, even queens, should follow the guidance of men, should speak only when spoken to. It was just another barrier to her friendship with the queen, Graysen did not permit her to spend time with anyone he considered unsuitable. More than her lack of courtly manners, Elain suspected that the reason that she was not permitted to speak with Vassa was the magic that touched her. Vassa was tied to an immortal God, after all. While still human in appearance, she might draw unnecessary attention to Elain and her own predicament.

She’d thought about asking in one of her letters to Feyre if she still hoped to break her curse, if anyone from the Night Court communicated with Vassa and might beseech on her behalf, but she knew that would invite too much involvement from her sister into her life. Feyre and Nesta never rebuked her outright for her choice to stay with Graysen. She had been so miserable in her time in Velaris, so unmoored by her visions and her loss of her true love, that they had been willing, though reluctant, to make arrangements for her to stay in the human lands.

She knew that Feyre wanted them to stay together. Nesta had fully joined the fold of her inner circle, training as a warrior and mating with Rhysand’s own brother. Elain considered returning to Velaris for Nesta’s mating ceremony, but ultimately decided against it. It had been a selfish choice, she knew. Feyre had assured her that they could winnow her to Prythian and return her that same night, if she’d wanted. Even Rhysand, whom she rarely spoke with, had written to encourage her to come, saying how much it would mean to both Feyre and Nesta to have her there for the day.

Graysen would never agree. Besides, she feared what it might draw out of her to be around so much magic and fae. Instead, she wrote her sister often, suggesting choices for flower arrangements and finding out everything about human wedding traditions she might incorporate into her own ceremony. She sent her little gifts, embroidered signs and hand calligraphed invitations, hoping that she could show her that she would help, offer her any amount of her time, from afar. 

Once a year, her sisters came to visit the manor on her birthday. They made arrangements with the Nolans to clear the house of servants so they could winnow directly into the home and see with their own eyes that she was well and cared for. Along with the letters, it had been one of the requirements of their marriage agreement. Even though she missed her sisters, she dreaded the visits. They looked at her with such concern and pity, she felt the need to overcompensate by acting overly cheerful and enthusiastic.

After their last visit, she felt so exhausted and frustrated, she kept to her rooms for two days, claiming a headache. She knew the staff whispered that it was her own reluctance to age or her sadness that another year passed where she had not born a child. That she did not age and would never bear a child with Graysen was something that she did not say. Someday, arrangements would have to be made for an heir to the Nolan line. Graysen would most likely take a lover, and Elain would raise the child as her own. They couldn’t risk a child born demifae. 

To hide her own powers required constant diligence, to mask the body and magic of a child seemed impossible. Could Graysen love a faerie born child? She doubted it. She tried to imagine her child running free on the property through a forest of ash and amongst the fae hating soldiers that guarded the gates. For love, she would face it, but she wouldn’t place that burden on her offspring.

Elain agreed to a plain dinner of venison and vegetables that the cook had suggested. Though the woman’s skills were considerable, the Nolan’s palettes remained unrefined and therefore their food unseasoned. The vegetables, bought at the market, tasted as much of dirt as anything else due to the unfavorable soil. She’d offered, once, to try growing some produce in the garden herself. Like all things, Lord Nolan deemed it unladylike and suggested she take up painting or an instrument instead. Elain did not have her sisters’ artistic or musical genes and hated both.

She practiced needlework and arranged bouquets of flowers. She filled odd hours practicing the languages of the continents and reading their history, hoping she might one day put her hosting skills to more work as a courtier and the lady of the manor. That, of course, required that any foreign guests deign to visit the human lands outside Prythian. Moreover, it also meant that Graysen allowed her to speak with them about more than the occasional comment on the weather or their preferred dance. Still, if she could not travel, she could at least read and educate herself.

After meeting with the staff, Elain took her parchment and tea to the garden behind the manor to set about returning a letter to the Asters about the ball. She planned to offer her assistance to Lady Lidia. She might find something new to busy herself with and make a friend in the process. She’d just finished pressing the wax seal to close the envelope when she heard a crunch in the gravel from behind her. The heavy steps told her it could only be Graysen’s father, Lord Nolan. The pace of his steps slowed as he approached her. Elain plastered a pleasant smile on her face, as she stood to curtsy a greeting to her father-in-law.

“Lady Elain, you look fine this morning.”

“Thank you, Lord.” She lowered her eyes demurely.

“To whom might you be writing?” No letter ever left the house without one of the two men she lived with approving it.

“Just a letter to Lady Lidia. Her family just returned to the old Aster estate a few miles over. They plan to throw a ball, and I offered her my assistance.”

He nodded his approval, responding gruffly. “Very nice. However, I must ask that you rescind the offer.”

“As you wish. Might I ask the reason?”

“Graysen planned to speak to you this evening, but we ask that you remain more closely at the manor for the next several days. Should any needs arise, please let Parsons know and he will have someone see to it.”

“Is there any danger, sir? Should I alert the servants?”

“The matter has already been addressed with the staff. I will notify you personally when the issue has been resolved.”

Without any further conversation, he inclined his head as a dismissal and turned to walk back towards the town. Elain hated that Graysen and Lord Nolan refused to provide her with any information about the dangers that plagued their days. That they bypassed her to speak to the servants directly snubbed her role as the Lady of the Manor, one of the only true responsibilities they allowed her.

Even years after the war, they spent much of their time reviewing their weaponry and meeting in secret. It is not the first time they’ve asked her not to leave the manor, though usually Graysen delivered the information himself. 

With a sigh, Elain sat back down and broke the seal on her letter. She would compose a new one, politely declining her invitation. Perhaps the threat would be lifted by the ball and she might write to her again to plead for a renewed offer. It hardly set the right tone for a new friendship, but she would supplicate herself to the woman. Even groveling, in the coy sense of a lady, would be preferable to the monotonous silence of the manor.

*****

Two days passed, and Graysen and Lord Nolan never returned to speak to her or tell her how long she might expect to be stuck in the manor. She caught the servants looking at her pityingly on a few occasions. Despite their distant relationship, she knew the servants favored sweet, mild-mannered Elain. Only their loyalty to her kept rumors of her marriage from making it to the town gossips. Personal matters often traveled from one house to another in this way. 

What might they think if they knew that lovely Elain, whose fiancé had been so smitten with her he promised to court her upon their first meeting, had spurned her already, never visiting their marriage bed. Blame would fall on her, as it always did on women. They would speculate that she was frigid or dull or some other odious trait that might lead a man to look for a mistress rather than find satisfaction with his wife.

Whether Graysen chose this, she wasn’t certain. He was gone often, but presumably spent much of that time in the company of his own father. She’d never scented another woman on him, never caught any glances exchanged between him and another lady in her social circle. This meant little, of course. Outside of the social gentry, one might have any number of affairs without making any promises to the woman involved. Graysen might choose such an opportunity, now that he’d secured a pretty wife to host his dinners and uphold his reputation as a respectable gentleman. Feyre had an affair of her own, when they had fallen poor. No one had looked twice when she snuck off, unsubtly, to take her pleasure in the barn with Isaac Hale.

Occasionally, Elain regretted that she had not chosen a man for herself during those years to enjoy herself and gain some experience. She had entered into her marriage with her purity intact. The silent and dispassionate exchanges she had in the dark of her bedroom with Graysen hardly fulfilled the fantasies she’d had in her youth. Elain had been a dreamer, imagining a great romance to sweep her off her feet. She’d expected that to include the kind of thrilling sex life she’d read about or now heard her sisters describe. While the first few times had been awkward, she’d felt sure with practice they might learn about each other’s bodies and find ways to pleasure each other. Graysen had no such interest, his efforts in sex as stilted as their conversations. Eventually, he stopped coming to her bed at all and she stopped asking. 

Elain’s shoulders ached from crouching over her embroidery hoop for too many hours to pass the time. Forbidden from gardening, she sewed flower after flower into pillows and handkerchiefs and napkins. She could only study history or languages for an hour or two at a time before her brain turned to mush. She looked out the window through the gaps in the iron bars to see that the sun shone brightly. She did not see any danger. 

The guards had not taken any extra preparations, they chatted amiably with each other out in the courtyard as they stood at their posts. They only engaged in such casual behavior when the Lord and his son were away. One guard, Bade, had a soft spot for her. She’d noticed his gaze lingering on her as she passed to and from the house on more than one occasion. He was not unusually handsome, but he was sweet and always offered her a greeting, which was more than her own husband could say.

Had Lord Nolan instructed them that she was not to leave the house? Most likely. However, Elain had spent her whole life charming her way into getting the answers she wanted. Perhaps if she acted casually enough and buttered up the guards a little, she might take a walk to the village for an hour or two. She could pick up a new book and stop by the market. If the villagers knew of any danger to the area, there would be talk of it.

Elain grabbed a basket and her cloak before donning her most innocent expression. She strolled through the front door, offering friendly greetings to the two guards stationed on either side. She walked as quickly as she dared without drawing attention. Better not to speak more than necessary so she wouldn’t be caught in a lie. When she reached the iron gates, she paused to address Bade and the other guard, Radcliff.

“Isn’t the sun just beautiful today?”

Both men looked at her warily, though a slight flush bloomed on Bade’s cheeks. She heard his pulse jump, pounding loudly in the silence of the courtyard.

“Indeed, my lady. I did not know that you planned an excursion for this afternoon.”

Elain just smiled sweetly, tilting her head to the side. “Not planned, necessarily. Aida mentioned that she was a bit short of greens for tonight’s stew. I offered to fetch it from the market for her so that I could enjoy the sun. I had need to stop at the seamstress, anyway.”

The guards exchanged glances.

“All this gloomy weather had left me feeling rather ill. I hoped fresh air might ensure my good health.” She was laying it on thick, she needed to slow down if she didn’t want to raise suspicions. She recalled, with amusement, a time when her father had told her that faeries couldn’t lie. These men, of course, did not know that she wasn’t human, but she hoped to call upon a bit of fae trickery to get them to believe her all the same.

Bade bowed respectfully. “Of course, my lady. Lord Graysen will be most pleased to see you looking so well when he returns.”

“You’re too kind, Bade. When does he plan to return?”

Radcliff cleared this throat, perhaps startled that she did not know when to expect her own husband. “Tomorrow evening, Lady Elain, if my information is accurate.”

She forced a smile. “Perfect, perhaps I will pick up something for him while I’m out. You’ve been most helpful. Thank you, gentleman.” She looked at them each in turn, standing at the gate expectantly. They pulled the gate open and Radcliff raised his hand for her to proceed.

The village was just a little too far away to walk comfortably, and Elain’s feet started to ache in her boots by the time she reached the market. She had not intended to buy anything, but now that she’d told the guards about the cook’s need of it, she couldn’t return empty handed. Elain meandered amongst the stands, hoping to look inconspicuous. Usually, the lady of a house would never deign to procure her own food at the market. She tried not to linger too long in any area so that she didn’t call attention to herself. She knew many of the people selling their goods from when she had been poor, when she had bartered anything they had in the cottage to secure food and clothing when she could.

Speaking to any of them now, it was as if those years never happened. In her heart, she wanted to be forgiving, they had all been forced to face many hard years in the best way they could. However, she couldn’t bring herself to truly forget the scornful glances they’d given her when her bones had poked out of her body in every direction from near starvation. Even less so could she forgive the way it humiliated Nesta, the wound to her pride that still lingers.

Keeping her head down, she hadn’t noticed the uneasy glances of many of the customers and merchants as they bustled about the market. One woman held to her purse so tightly as she walked about, her knuckles had turned white. Another man already begun to shut down his booth, despite it not being an hour past noon. Elain’s heart began to beat a quicker pulse in her chest. Discreetly, she looked at her hands. They looked human, normal. Her fae hands had been graceful, with slender wrists and long fingers. Her skin too, looked human. She could even see where a patch had grown rough from the cold spring weather. Her ears were hidden behind her hair, but she felt no difference.

She turned around, looking for any indication of a disturbance. Perhaps there was danger after all, and she should hurry home. She tried to remind herself that she was not a weak human any more. If true danger arose, she could run quickly or defend herself if need be. But that would raise questions she was not prepared to answer.

Still, the thought of another day of quiet in that house with nothing to do but stitch roses and lilies might be her undoing. She quickly purchased some celery and spinach from one of the new merchants to town before hustling towards the next street where the shops were located. An unnatural quiet hovered over the street that normally sang with commotion on a busy day. Faces turned northward where crowds separated with clumsy urgency. She looked towards the cause of the disturbance. A spot of red hovered over the crowd of onlookers.

She stood, transfixed, hoping that she might catch a glimpse of who held the attention of so many villagers. Elain began to turn the other direction when she saw the familiar dark hair and broad shoulders of Jurian walking through the crowds. He looked agitated, his jaw clenched and his hand gripping the pommel of his sword. Jurian was infamous, as a war hero, but surely not the cause of such a fuss?

Elain looked at the person walking behind him and dropped her basket in surprise. She let out a surprised gasp that caused a few people to look in her direction. Walking alongside Jurian, his ruby colored hair gleaming under the bright sun, was Lucien.

[thecouchsofa]

hi!! #14 & #90 for the trope mash-up if you want to? 👀♥︎

Fanfiction trope mashup - Bodyguard AU x Unexpected Virgin

I took this in a slightly different direction to what I was intending, but I quite like it!

Rating: M

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Malfoy slammed the door as he stomped in behind Harry, the rusty hinges squealing. “Do you have any idea–”

“Come off it, Malfoy, you pillock.” Harry rolled his eyes, delighting as the corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched. He sagged against the cool stone wall, trying to catch his breath for the first time in hours.

“I told you not to draw attention to yourself.” Malfoy tugged at his pale hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. He looked far older than his eighteen years, the seemingly endless months of war hanging heavy on his frame. He had lines now, between his arched brows and across his high forehead. They stood out when he hunched over a book as he read by candlelight, too nervous to cast a proper Lumos.

“I didn’t try to–”

Malfoy’s laugh was hollow. He fixed Harry with a look that displayed the fatigue and sadness lodged deep in his soul after so many losses. “You pulled your wand on Greyback. That–”

“I had to.” Harry’s words tripped over themselves. He clutched at the wall, breaths coming faster and faster, the echoes of the offensive spells fired at him and Malfoy still hot on the skin of his heels. “I couldn’t not, not after everything.”

“Then let me do it.” Malfoy’s voice was desperate, pleading. “I’m supposed to protect you. You can’t let me fail at this, Potter.”

“You don’t care about me,” Harry said, though he didn’t believe it. He saw how Malfoy looked at him now, had watched the fear and determination on his face when he threw himself between Harry and the oncoming spells.

“Sirius does.” Malfoy yanked at his jumper, tugging it over his head. There was no point in keeping it now, not in the state it was in; they’d have to burn it before nightfall. Before they moved on from there, to somewhere safer. Wherever that was. “And I can’t let him down, Potter. Not after everything he’s done for me.”

What about me? Harry wanted to ask. He ached to, needed to hear the answer out loud, that something that he felt from Malfoy every day, in each action he performed. What about what I’ve done? What about what you’ve done for me?

Malfoy’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. He looked at Harry then – really looked at him. “I’ve killed for you.”

“Yes,” Harry said. And I’d do the same for you.

Malfoy’s pale throat moved as he swallowed. “I’d do it again.”

“I know.”

“I would.” Malfoy’s gaze was heavy, his shoulders sagging. “But please don’t make me.”

And that was something that Harry couldn’t promise, no matter how much he wanted to. Malfoy knew that; Harry could see it in his face.

The rest of their clothes hit the floor, the threads of fabric standing on end, friction from the offensive spells caught in each strand.

Malfoy stared at the pile for a moment, jaw clenched tight. “We’ll have to burn them.”

“Not in the fireplace.”

“No. The bath.”

Harry gathered up their things, shuddering at the remnants of hostile magic that brushed against his skin. Every atom seemed to scream They’re here. He’s here. Come and get them.

The light of the fire danced across Malfoy’s face as they stood next to the tub, watching as their clothes burned. The scent of it was cloying, magic mixed with ash and charred polyester. Malfoy shuddered, wrapping his arms around his bare torso. Harry glanced at him only once, eyes dropping lower, cheeks heating.

Malfoy cleared his throat, the sound harsh against the backdrop of crackling flames. If Harry closed his eyes and listened, he could almost believe he was camping somewhere in the countryside, innocent and safe.

“We need to wash the magic off.” Malfoy’s tone was rough, like shoes on gravel. “I…”

“Together,” Harry said, before he could stop himself. He couldn’t go back downstairs and wait, ears straining for any sign of someone having followed them to that crumbling lighthouse on the edge of the world.

Malfoy nodded curtly, turning away when Harry looked at him.

They couldn’t turn the water on, just as they couldn’t activate any of the lights. Instead, they took turns holding Malfoy’s wand up, keeping a finger on it to activate the Aguamenti. Malfoy shivered, stepping closer to Harry as water sluiced over the planes of his torso. It shimmered, magic running down their skin and collecting at their feet. Droplets of water clung to Malfoy’s pale lashes as he turned to face Harry, blinking slowly. He didn’t flinch when Harry reached for him, not as he had the last time, the only other time Harry had tried.

“Draco,” Harry whispered, and Malfoy finally touched him back. He slid a hand round the back of Harry’s neck and tugged him in close, kissing him firmly. Their knees bumped in the cramped space, Malfoy’s fingers tangling in Harry’s hair, his breath a whisper.

Malfoy gasped, tipping his head back, when Harry wrapped a hand around the length of him. His legs shook, fingers clutching for any part of Harry he could reach. “I can’t … Potter, I haven’t … not before. Not ever.”

Harry kissed the confession from his lips, swallowing each of Malfoy’s moans, keeping him quiet so they wouldn’t be found. His bicep bulged, muscles straining with the effort of keeping Malfoy’s wand raised above their heads. He didn’t protest, didn’t ask to swap. He touched Malfoy slowly as Malfoy looked his fill, ran his fingers over another body for the first time.

“Please,” Malfoy whispered, legs shaking. “Fuck, I need…”

“Hold on to me,” Harry directed, tightening his grip and speeding up his strokes.

Malfoy clutched onto him and gasped, mouthing Harry’s name again and again against his damp skin. He said it out loud as he crested, Harry’s given name passing his lips for the first time as the smell of their burning clothes filled the air.

“Sirius is going to kill me,” Malfoy muttered against Harry’s shoulder, later, after they’d Apparated to a damp forest in Cumbria.

Harry wrapped an arm around Malfoy’s shoulders, holding him close. “Not if I do it first.”

His words rang loud in the quiet, a joke that didn’t so much as fall flat, but seemed to predict something, a future that neither of them wanted.

“Maybe,” Malfoy said. He pressed his lips to Harry’s throat, parting them and swiping his tongue across Harry’s skin. “But not if I do it first.”

Send me two tropes and I'll mash them together

[lou-struck]

Hot Tub and Heavy

Kotaro Bokuto x reader

25 Days of Ficmas Day 1

WC:1.1k

~ The two of you are spending the last night at your mountaintop resort in the comfort and privacy of your villa’s Hot Tub. 

Warnings: A bit suggestive but nothing too bad, lots of affection, touching, and kissing, alcohol use mentioned.

“I can’t believe we are doing this.” you giggle, securing your grip on your boyfriend’s calloused hand as he drags you across the stone balcony of the private mountaintop Villa that has been your home for the last few days. Your other hand holds the fluffy white towel against your swimsuit-clad body. 

“It’s gonna be great.” he laughs as a sparse flurry of snowflakes begins to fall from the darkened sky around you, landing on your bare shoulders as you run. You may be chilly, but the Villa’s private hot tub is steaming and ready to warm the two of you up in its bubbling waters. 

You’ve had a bit to drink tonight and thought it would be fun to spend your last night of vacation in the hot tub to watch the snowfall. He steps into the water first and holds out a strong arm for you to use as you step in. “Here, I don’t want you to slip.”

“Thank you,” you beam, soul, touched by his consideration as you toss your towel under one of the little tables to keep it protected from the elements and allow your chilly feet to enter the warm water. The two drastically different temperatures your body is experiencing is quite a strange sensation. 

Your lower half stings a bit as it grows accustomed to the dubbing water, while your previously freezing upper half is heated by the hot tub’s steam but is still cold to the touch. 

“You sigh in relaxation as you settle in and allow the jets to soothe your sore muscles from the last few days on the slopes. “This feels amazing, you hum, lolling your head to the side to rest on his muscular frame. 

“No kidding, this is what the doctor ordered.” he sighs before looking at you with puppy dog eyes. “What if we just stayed here forever?”

“I wish we could, Kou.” you hum, intertwining your fingers with his much larger ones. 

“Why can’t we?” he laughs, wiggling his thick gray eyebrows in a way he thinks is seductive. But it’s just adorable.

“We’d go broke. You laugh, knowing that this trip was a gift from the owner of his professional volleyball team and not something either of you could afford year-round. “Besides, any day with you feels like a vacation.”

“So true,” he laughs boisterously. “But I sure am glad I got to take you with me,” he says, giving your hand a squeeze. You turn your head to look at his face, and you can’t tell if the blush on his cheeks is from the cold air, warm water, or the three cups of boozy cocoa he had downed inside.

A blissful smile grows on your face as you squeeze it back. “Me too Kou, it’s been a perfect trip.”

“Better than perfect,” he says before bursting out laughing at a joke he hasn’t even told yet. “Could you imagine what it would’ve been like if I had to bring along Tsum Tsum instead of you?”

You laugh along with him, imagining the two large men awkwardly sharing the Villia’s lone kingsized bed. Kotaro Bokuto has always been a cuddler, so even if they started the night on opposite sides, your boyfriend would eventually make his way across the mattress in his sleep and curl up to the poor setter. “Honestly, I would be a bit jealous if Miya was your little spoon on this trip instead of me.”

This sends him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter as he processes your little quip. “There’s a reason why no one wants to share a bed with me on away trips.” 

“Their loss.” you tease, moving in close to him. The steam and snow creates an almost magical curtain around the two of you as your gaze drops from his golden gaze to his tempting lips. 

He smiles playfully as he leans in closer to you and, with the suave directness of a high schooler on a movie date, asks. “Wanna make out?”

Putting aside the great delivery of his request, you are more than happy to oblige. 

You lean forward, shifting your weight through the water until you are practically chest to chest. You take his lips greedily, tasting the hints of peppermint creme liquor on his lips. His strong arms hold you steady as he lifts you onto his lap to deepen the kiss.

You don’t register the brief pause in the snowfall as he steals the air from your lungs. But the time you pull away, you look at his pink cheeks and smile. But before you can go back under, you notice his hair.

His two-toned hair is frosted over from the unique conditions, and his strands are striking out wildly, encased in a layer of ice and snow. You pull back a bit to take a better look at his now-frosty tips.

“Wait, babe. Why are you smiling like that?” he asks. “Do I have something on my face?”

You laugh. “Kou, look at your hair, it’s wild.” 

He looks a bit confused until he spots his reflection in the dark window across from the hot tub. His face lights up in amusement as he feels his frozen strands crunch under the pressure from his hands. “Woah, check me out. I’m like an ice guy or something.”

“The cutest icy guy.” you giggle, wiggling off his lap, trying to peer around his broad frame to catch a glimpse of your own reflection. Your hair looks almost as wild as his, not a single strand in place. You pose and show off the wildstyle with goofy confidence. “So, do you like my new look?” 

“You’re so cute,” he gushes gently, toying with some heavy strands on top of your head. 

You can tell he wants to try and play with his hair some more, so you wiggle your way off his lap and sink back into the warm water so he can dunk his hair under again, eager to see how his unruly hair is restyled by nature’s cold wind.

“Woah, check me out now.” he gawks, watching as his hair begins to freeze in an upright position, overly dramatic yet very similar to the look he used to have in high school. “My hair looks crazy. Could you imagine what it would be like if my hair looked like this all the time?”

Once again, Kotaro Bokuto is completely missing the irony of his words. It’s one of the many things you love about him. 

Your smile is full of warmth as you play along.” Yes, that would be something.”

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[velvet-paradox]

Heartstrings (Part Four)

Pairing: Vessel x Female reader

Length: Long

Warnings: NSFW, 18 + ONLY, reader discretion advised, in which Vessel tells you the truth.

Tagging: @synnersaintt @megangovier20 @thesoundresoundsecho @marmalademary

ENJOY!!!

It's quiet.

Everything is muffled, underwater.

Streaks of black stain and drip over the side of the tub like spiders legs. Vessel holds his breath under the water. It's surprisingly large enough to house his lithe frame, suspended in time, his mind reeling and with the weightless thoughts he's suddenly disrupted he nearly drowns. He opens his eyes under the murky water in time to see Sleep hanging over the shower curtain, red smoky paws propped under its' chin.

"Don't do that!" Vessel sputtered and wiped at his bare face, coughing up little hiccups of water.

"There's something you should know."

"Can't it wait? Jesus." Vessel huffed and sat up, splashing more water over onto the floor.

"I suppose it could but by then it will be too late."

"Too late for what?" Vessel pulled out the plug, the chain tickled his foot and he watched as the water disappeared revealing him in his glorious birthday suit. Sleep didn't care or couldn't be bothered to look away from his position, just watched with narrowed black eyes. "Do you mind?"

"Not at all, host."

Vessel sighed, and stood up, wrapping his waist with a fluffy, actually an extra fluffy towel. He secured it then gave his full attention to Sleep, even if he did huff and puff about it.

"Now, what is just so important?"

"He's a liar." Sleep spat, as if the words held venom and by the look on the little creatures' scrunched red face, it just might be.

"Who? Who are you talking about?"

"Who do you think, sir? Y/N's fiancé. He's a phony! I'm surprised she didn't see it, he practically reeks of it. Foul thing to lie to the one you're supposed to love. He must be dealt with."

Vessel frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"Oh I do not think it my dear, Vessel. Oh no. I know it! I know a trickster when I see one," Sleep scoffed and swayed around the top of the medicine cabinet, sitting as politely as an otherworldly cat with six black eyes can. "I overheard him this morning, his conversation sounded promising so I went into his room and all was revealed."

Vessel started to panic. That awful ache in his chest made his stomach hot and his mouth sour.

"Go on."

"Well you see my dear boy…"

….

He hated it. Every second that passed seemed to linger a little too long, set the pace and tone for the dinner. Vessel was never uncertain about Sleep and what the red deity was completely capable of, always took his advice since the incident, had followed along its' path and yet he didn't have a single reason not to trust, right?

But as he sat, albeit uncomfortably beside you at some swanky restaurant in an industrial area of the city, he couldn't help but wonder if Sleep was playing tricks. Although he'd mentioned time and time again, much like old Louie had, that you two were destined to be together. Vessel could never say for sure but he hadn't been led astray so far and whether you knew it or not, the truth was in stone or so Sleep would mumble.

Breakable stones, apparently.

This guy, this Zeke guy, your fiancé was your soulmate. Not Vessel.

He poked around at the roasted vegetables on his plate, adorning everyone's features in this low lighting, the glimmer of your engagement ring. He clutched the necklace when III nearly fell out of his chair with his dramatic story, something new he'd learned about Elephants was very exciting to him.

You grabbed onto him and nearly toppled yourself over as well if it weren't for Vessel's turbo reflexes. He'd just grabbed the crook of your elbow, a mysterious white hot jab to his palm made him jolt. III settled down but when you looked at him, really looked at him, he felt as if you could see his whole life story (including the absent three year hiatus), a collection of thoughts and memories and the unknowns of the future.

"Are you really okay? You were so quiet at dinner." You asked, walking back to the hotel behind the others. Zeke was flowery in his own storytelling, II was eating it up like a fresh baked pie but IV had been skeptical. Looking over his shoulder and pretending to hang himself out of boredom.

"Yeah yeah I'm fine. Just tired you know. Jetlag and all." He said with a shrug. His palm still pulsed a bit.

"I'm glad you came. I don't what I would've done if you didn't." You admitted.

"You would still be getting married." That words filled his mouth dirt. He looked down when he felt your arm hook around his.

"I don't know. I feel like I need your approval for some reason. You wouldn't lead me astray."

Vessel didn't know what to say so he kept his mouth shut, patting your hand until you made back to the hotel and your respected rooms.

….

"She's gotta' know by now right?" IV asked the next afternoon, tapping his chin as he paced the room. "Sleep wouldn't just lie about something like that, would he?"

Vessel shrugged. All the blood rushing to his head as laid upside down on one of the stiff and scratchy recliners. III looked incredibly spindly from this angle, he thought.

"Oh shit! Is it here? Is Sleep in here, listening?" IV rolled off the bed and circled himself around, eyes frantic through the peep holes of his mask. If he didn't stop soon he'd be dizzy and sick and no one needed any of that mess, including housekeeping.

Vessel remained silent. Truth was Sleep never left his side. Well not exactly his side, he wasn't attached to the creature, not bodily, but Vessel would get little glimpses of those piercing, watchful inky eyes, wisps of crimson out of the corner of his eye. A few times Vessel had seen Sleep resting, unnoticed on one of their shoulders or at their feet.

"Well we gotta' tell her, right? We can't let this go on like this! She'll be absolutely heartbroken."

"Or worse." II chimed in.

"How do you mean?"

II sighed and slouched even further into the other recliner. "She could think were trying to ruin her big day. Alright so, say we do tell her 'hey Y/N by the way this chump is lying to you and isn't your true forever mate but because he see's how much of a catch you are and how lucky he'd be to lock you away, he's been pretending so.' Yeah, that sounds HORRIBLE. Or that we might be jealous. Ves should be the one to feel that shock, not that poser."

Blood pounded in Vessel's ears at II's words. Yes it would be terrible to hear something like that from close friends about your supposedly sacred mate. But… the shock part. Vessel squinted and sat up, shivering as he got a rush.

"What kind of shock?"

II snorted and crossed his hands over his belly. "Oh come now, you know. Didn't you pay attention in any of your classes?"

II cleared his throat and pretended to straighten some invisible tie before reciting the following:

Once one finds their mate,

Everything becomes white and clear,

For the shock of fate,

Makes them let go of fear

"Sheesh, you think you of all people would remember that!"

….

He hadn't. He must've forgotten it. Flashbacks of sitting in the back of his classes, doodling and filling the wide ruled pages of his notebooks with everything but lasting information. Back in the days of his "jester" make up, his happiness, reeking of coffee beans and tricks played. Eating SpaghettiO's cold, right out of the can as you and him would swing in gentle unison.

Zeke didn't come off as jealous as he sat with the guys, you'd banged on their hotel room door begging them to come out. You were desperate for a dance, like old times. Vessel even broke a smile as he watched III twirl you down the carpeted hallway.

You and III hadn't lost your rhythm or chemistry on the dance floor, the music of the club was smooth and easy enough to tap his feet to. Vessel looked over to see Zeke checking out some other girl in a low cut top adjust her cleavage. A wandering eye and a liar. Fucks sake.

IV and II noticed too, keeping their eyes on the new prey.

"Nice rack, right?" II's voice broke through the silence.

Zeke beamed like she'd actually flashed them, nodding with his bottom lip his teeth. IV grunted next to Vessel, he silently agreed.

"Not bad. I've seen better."

Vessel wanted to throw his drink in Zeke's face, cause a scene, expose him for all to see. But he didn't. You didn't need that. He instead slammed it in case he got the urge to follow through with whatever the man before him came up with.

"Y/N's are great, don't me wrong boys but… there's nothing like a fresh pair. The lead up to it, the adreanaline, the rush. She hates when I got to strip clubs, why get worked up to not fuck a stripper when I could just do her instead?"

As vulgar as Zeke made his plight, Vessel did quietly agree. Even if he did a piss poor mock of your voice. If he had a beautiful woman (and not just any woman but his fucking mate!) at home who would do what he liked, why waste time and money?

Zeke sat back, confidently, a little too confidently by Vessel's standards really. "That's why I don't tell her anymore."

Thankfully the glass in Vessel's hand was plastic as it would've been in shards on the floor.

"You lie to her?" IV asked.

"A little white lie here and there never hurt anyone."

"But you just said--"

"I know what I said! Sorry. I uh, no harm no foul. What she doesn't know and I do expect you lot to keep those mouths of yours shut, won't kill her. You wouldn't want to ruin her big, beautiful day now would you? Didn't think so. I trust you guys know better than that so… I'm gonna' go get another drink and grind up on my fiancé. Excuse me, lads."

Zeke got up, patted Vessel's shoulder smugly and left the table.

"I'm gonna' get him." II growled and stood, only for Vessel to grab his wrist and drag him back down.

"Don't."

"Ves--"

"I know. I know. We'll tell her, I promise."

"Yeah when? The wedding is three days, man!"

Vessel knew that. He swallowed hard and saw you spinning with III, a take on Jack and Rose in Titanic. Though it looked incredibly strange for this long legged man to be twirling so quickly with a girl two heads shorter.

He'd be the one to break it to you. It would only be fair.

Right?

….

Vessel paced the long hallway the next night. Up and down, touch the elevator doors then walk back to the bay window and touch the cool glass that overlooked the pool. You swam lap after lap, languid and gentle as falling snow. Vessel paced the hall one more time. Two more times. Poor guy was trying to hype himself up to deliver the news.

"What are you doing up?"

Your voice alerted through the quiet of the hall.

Vessel turned to see you by the elevator bank he'd just left, standing there like a vision in black. You wore a sheer and lacy swimsuit cover up, your flip flops squished with water from the pool.

He should have just gone down there, he thought. What if you screamed, what if you cried, what if you wailed like a banshee in the night at the truth of Zeke's betrayal? Would you wake the whole hotel, cause rife and chaos, break out in fight?

Vessel panicked but let you walk up on him, allowed you and only you to touch his mask, cup his cheek, pinch his painted chin. To his surprise another hot jolt of electricity hit him in the gut.

"What's wrong?" You asked, lingering there and smelling of chlorine and whatever it was your wore or maybe it was just you he was smelling. Mates could scent each other after all.

"I uh, I um… can we talk?"

"Of course," you said instantly, taking his wrist and walked further down the hallway. "Zeke said he was gonna' stay out a bit longer, hang with his boys before the wedding."

Vessel bit his tongue, last nights' unscrupulous conversations sans your ears made him instantly picture your fiancé at a strip club, face deep in oiled tits. It made him hot.

"So, what you do wanna' talk about?" You asked once inside your room, the smell of your perfume or lotion or scrub or something Vessel wasn't even aware of reeked, in a good way of course. Just a bit more overpowering. Hints and wisps of Zeke wafted from the double sink vanity in the bathroom. You settled down your things and stood facing your former best friend.

"Zeke--"

"I knew it! You don't like him do you? Vessel he's my person; he knew my phrase, the zing thing. I was really hoping you'd approve." You sounded so sad as you moved away from him, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Vessel hadn't even said anything and you were already distraught.

"It's not that its just… he's not right. The things he's doing, the lies, the betrayal, his attitude is just all sorts of wrong. I know love is sometimes blind but, you've got to see things as they are."

"Lies? Betrayal?" You gave him a quizzical glare and marched back to him. Your scent growing even stronger. "What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath before unleashing all his knowledge about the situation. He didn't know how you'd take it. What your reaction might be.

It certainly wasn't a slap to his face.

Vessel didn't taste blood but he checked just the same, wiping his mouth, adjusting his mask.

"Get out."

"I'm sorry Y/N. But I'm not the one you should be made at."

"I said: GET OUT!" You shouted again, shoving him towards the door with tears welling up in your eyes, your face scrunched as you sobbed for air.

"If you don't believe me," Vessel took off the necklace, held it out in his palm as he stood out in the hallway then. "Game."

"I don't want it!"

"Take it," Vessel held back his own tears, thankful for the crafted mesh eyes, you couldn't see them pregnantly well up. "It's your turn."

You reluctantly took the necklace and shut the door in his face, making his cape billow with the force of it. He touched the door when he heard you start to sob behind it. He pictured you sliding down its' length, covering your face in your hands. Would you lock Zeke out? Would you confront him straight away? Would you--

"You did the right thing, Vessel." Sleep announced, coiling around his feet.

"Did I? She's a mess right now because of me." He sniffled, gripping his keycard.

"Ah ah, not because of you, because of what you told her. That's a big difference, my boy. You're surely bright enough to know that," Sleep leapt up onto Vessel's shoulder, even gave him a little pat on the cheek with his paw. "There there, host. Let her breathe. She'll understand."

….

None of them seemed to understand how you were going through with all of this. The rehearsal dinner goes on as scheduled, only difference is your lack of enthusiasm. You greeted the guys and everyone who was invited but you just looked at Vessel, he could tell you'd been crying still.

But he did see that you wore the necklace.

He moved II out of the way at the little buffet line, plating up food he knew he wouldn't be able to stomach.

"Game."

"What?" You whispered back to him, pouring gravy over some mashed potatoes.

"You heard me. Are you game?"

"Vessel please-"

"If you really love him you'll play."

With a huff you looked at him, holding up the line.

"I'm still pissed at you."

"I know." Vessel hushed his voice down and gave you a little nudge to keep it moving. "I promise I'm not trying to hurt you. I only want you to be safe, cared for. Don't you know that?"

"No, Ves I don't." Your voice paused, watery and once again on the verge of tears but you saved face and stared up at the popcorn ceiling of the venue before finding your table. "I don't know anything anymore."

That hurt more than intended.

You were lost. All those years ago ihe'd been the one to be lost, didn't know which end was up, if he was on an even path of destrcution or pleasure. You'd been there to guide him along the way. You were there for him when he needed it most and Vessel was damn sure he'd serve you the same dish.

The sudden slam of a SpaghettiO's can on the tablecloth made everyone jump.

Your eyes were wild when they met Vessel's.

III looked at II who looked at Vessel then to you. All their blue eyes were focused on you.

"The hells' that for?" Zeke asked through a mouthful of food.

You stared silently at the can.

"Honey? What is that?" He asked again, bumping your arm.

"Game?"

You straightened and reached for the can, another stinger to Vessel's fingertips this time when you touched. You locked eyes and slid the can towards you, looking at it fondly.

"Game."

"What?"

"It's her favorite thing, but of course you know that don't you Zeke? Being Y/N's mate and all o' that. Keeps them neatly tucked away in all corners," Vessel mused, remembering that one time you'd so conveniently stashed two cans of the quick meal above your stove like a trying-to-quit-one-more-time smoker. There just in case of an emergency. "Probably brought some with her."

"Is that a joke?"

II choked on his Redbull, knowing full well that ALL mates know their partners specialties of choice. Vessel tilted his head as you looked at Zeke. He should know that answer.

"You know I eat them all the time."

"Yeah and it's fucking weird but you're weird so I didn't think of it. I didn't know they were your favorite all time but I mean, I know what you like otherwise."

"I'm weird?"

"In a good way."

You scoffed and started to spin the can on the table. "Tell me then, what's my favorite dessert?"

The people at the table tried to pry, tried to listen in on "happy" couple as tension grew like vines.

Sleep poked his little head out from between the crook of your elbow, it winked one full side of eyes at Vessel the turned its' head upside down like an owl and peered up at you thoughtfully.

"Carrot cake. Duh."

You blinked at Zeke.

"What? Or is it German Chocolate…"

"I don't like dessert."

"What? Of course you do babe, I've seen you eat chocolate every month."

"Only for a week."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"Babe come on it's not that--"

"What was my first car?"

Zeke was in a visible panic, Sleep was now totally invested and showing bleach white fangs in glee, III and IV had their hands on their glasses but stilled them in thin air.

"I don't-"

"You don't know?" As if Vessel was tuned into you like an AM radio, he could hear the wavering in your voice, the realization, the coming to terms that maybe just maybe he was right. He hated the defeated look on your painted up face. Hopefully your mascara was waterproof.

You shot him a watery look then across the table.

"Excuse me."

You abruptly got up, screeched back your chair and stomped towards the exit. The wedding party just stared and murmured what a shame Zeke couldn't remember his mates' particulars. Things that should come rushing to the surface. They went back to eating and chatting, while Zeke shifted and looked uncomfortable but not amused, Vessel noticed that the can of SpaghettiO's was missing from the table.

He found you by the pool.

Swaying your feet in the cool water, the can of food tipped towards your mouth.

"Hey."

You pulled the can away, a ring of sweet red sauce around your bottom lip. You swallowed and gave him a sad little wave.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For ruining your night. Well… nights', plural that is." Vessel crouched down next to you.

"I should be the one apologizing to you. For three years ago, for reaching out after all this time. For slapping you when clearly you knew more than me. For thinking… I don't even know what I was thinking," you sniffed and looked down into the half eaten/drunk can of pasta rings. "I just missed you. The first thing I thought of when Zeke proposed was you. I wanted to share something major in my life, something eccentric was happening to me and I wanted you there. I needed you there."

Vessel touched your shoulder eventually. "I'll always be there."

"I am really sorry for dragging you into this."

"You didn't drag me into anything. You know you can't make me do anything I don't want to do."

You looked over at him with half a smile and an offer of what was left in the can.

"That's not true."

Your eeyes shone bright when Vessel wiped the corner of your mouth. You jerked and opened your mouth but thought against whatever it was you were going to say. Instead you got up, told him you had to go.

He watched you leave, shaking your head and mumbling to yourself. Of course you needed time to process your next move. Vessel's shoulders sagged when he saw you stop at the doors, look back at him one last time then disappeared into the hotel.

[cloverthebarbearian]

Secret Meetings (P.1)

Uktar x GN!Tav 3,380 words (Suggestive not explicit) (P.2, P.3)

Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine. "I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed. "You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin. "What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh. "Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together.

Dusk was fast approaching, threatening storm clouds of grey and blue rolling across the horizon. The evening air was welcome in the busy streets of Wyrm's Crossing. That crisp and haunting chill of promised rain tickling Tav's skin as they approached Sharess' Caress. The familiar warmth of the brothel greeted them when they opened the front door, heady incense wafting through the air.

"Hello, Darling!" Mamzell Amira strolled elegantly from behind her workspace to give Tav a friendly hug, kissing both cheeks in greeting, "How was the trek today?"

"Nothing special, Mam," Tav removed the cloak draped across their shoulders and handed the Mamzell their outerwear to check in behind the counter, "Looks like a storms approaching. Lots of travelers needing rooms tonight, good for business I bet?"

Amira tutted playfully, "And what better way to shield from a storm than the warm embrace of a beautiful stranger, hm?"

She practically floated as she moved about the lobby, "Same room as always, dear?" she called to Tav while working through the Caress' room keys.

"Yes, Mam," Tav replied, "Everything cleaned and prepped I take it?"

"Of course, darling," Mamzell Amira handed them their room key. Just as Tav was about to take it, the Mamzell yanked it back, eyeing their patron playfully, "You know, I'm rather curious who this mysterious little client of yours is."

Tav rolled their eyes with a grin, "I'm sure you are Mamzell, but I've made it very clear they've requested discretion. You know how many powerful individuals come around here requiring silence, often times for our own safety."

Mamzell Amira pouted, "Oh, I know darling. But I can't help that my mind wanders. They're so mysterious! No one's even caught a glimpse of them, the way they manage to sneak in and out with such ease," she sighed, glancing at Tav again before handing them their key in earnest, "Well, I suppose as long as you feel safe and I get paid, that's all that matters," she waved Tav off nonchalantly, "Have fun, dear."

Tav took the key with a smile, a light blush creeping across their cheeks, "I always do, Mam."

Tav locked the bedroom door after checking the room thoroughly. All their standard requests were abided, as usual. Fresh water, sweet wine, and a small fruit and bread platter set up on the tea table. The inset stone bath was full and warm, their closet stocked with clean robes, fresh clothes, and warm towels. A few simple toys and tools by the bedside, in case the mood struck them.

No poison in the wine, no assassins hiding in any unlit corners. Old habits die hard.

They took a deep breath and unlocked the door to the balcony, leaving it open a crack and placing a small wedge of wood in the frame as a stopper. The wind of the incoming storm brought in a bit of mist and drizzle, and Tav shivered. They turned to the bath and began discarding their clothes, submerging their tired feet into the hot water with a sigh. They walked to the center of the large tub and sat down, curling their knees to their chest and closing their eyes as the hot water soaked into their aching bones.

And now they wait.

The waiting was always hardest. They never knew when he'd arrive. He's never missed a date so far, though there have been times he hadn't shown until the morning sun was already teasing the horizon. Tav's only knowledge he had even come at all from feeling him slip into bed to hold them as they slept, and a note left behind by their pillow when they finally woke.

They watched the steam rise from the tub as they listened to the rain. It was coming down steadier now. Rolling thunder echoed in the distance. They began wondering if he'd show up at all tonight, what with an impending storm fast approaching. This was supposed to be casual, and technically all just business. But they'd be lying if they said their heart didn't sink at the idea of a night without him.

They tipped their head back, submerging themselves completely in the heated pool. Their hair wisped around them as they gazed at the ceiling through the haze of water. The rhythmic thumping of their pulse in their ears acting as a metronome, counting seconds as they waited. Seconds that felt like minutes as they held their breath.

A muffled bump shook them from their trance, bolting upright and cresting the water with a deep breath of cool air. They stared at the balcony door, eyes wide and body crouched as if ready to pounce before registering who was causing the racket.

Uktar stood drenched in the open doorway, the earlier drizzles having turned into torrential downpour. Sheets of rain crashed like waves as he fought with the door against the wind. A comparative silence followed the slamming wood as he stood with his back against the door, chest heaving, head low. He finally glanced up and saw Tav, their head resting on folded arms against the edge of the bath, an amused smile across their face.

The masked man gestured to the door, "Couldn't help me with this then?"

Tav suck into the water, running their fingers along the surface, "I was a bit occupied," they said as they took in the sight of him, stifling a laugh, "Looks like you managed a bath before arriving for a change! I appreciate that."

"Ah Ha. Ha Ha Ha. You're hilarious," his head tilted with a mocking laugh as he shook his hands and removed his boots. He walked to the wardrobe, grabbing a change of clothes and moving behind a divider to change out of his now soaking wet attire. Tav watched with an anxious curiosity as he removed his mask and placed it on a table beside the wardrobe, straining to peak between the cracks of the divider's wooden panels. All in vain, they were already certain, but it didn't stop them from trying.

"You actually showed up fairly early tonight," Tav commented, "Usually I'm here at least an hour before you arrive… Thought you'd choose to wait out the storm or something," they bit their lip as they watched his silhouette.

Uktar draped his wet clothes over the divider, toweling himself off as he spoke, "I knew the rain was coming. Managed to talk my way out of any deals going on too late. Scared folks into thinking the sewers may flood. Gave me plenty of time to haul ass over here," he threw his towel over the divider and it landed on the floor within Tav's reach, "Didn't think I'd get caught in the storm though."

Tav picked up the towel and wrapped it around themselves as they begrudgingly left the warmth of the pool. Uktar was busy tying his hair back up and pulling on a fresh pair of underclothes as Tav approached. They glanced at his mask left laying on the side table, gingerly running their fingers along the cool, glossy porcelain. Still spattered with rain, it seemed like it were made of crystal with the way it twinkled.

They heard Uktar clear his throat loudly from behind them, and Tav swiftly turned their back to the divider. Carefully, they picked the mask up and held it out behind them until they felt it leave their grasp.

"Thank you," his low voice replied. His cadence still perpetually annoyed, but Tav could hear the shame tinged below it all. They gave him a few beats to shroud himself, rocking gently on their heels before glancing over their shoulder.

"May I?" they asked, their eyes still trained on his legs.

"You may, Highness," he said with a tease and an exaggerated bow. Giggling, Tav turned around to face him. He leaned back up, adjusting to finish tying his robe as they looked at him.

Tav walked slow, still wrapped in their towel, running their hands under his arms and around his waist, looking up into the eyes of his mask.

"Hi," they said, coy smile betrayed by the blush on their cheeks.

"Hello, Sweetness," he responded, caressing their head in his hand, stroking down their cheek and pulling them close to his chest. The smell of rose oil and ivory soap from their bath still lingering.

Uktar could feel Tav's damp skin seeping through his fresh clothes, "Could we get you properly toweled off?" He quickly ran his arms up and down their shoulders as he pulled away, turning to grab them another towel.

He draped the fresh towel over their head, running the ends up and over their face, down their cheeks, watching the way they seemed to melt against his touch.

"We need to get you dressed," Uktar muttered as he dried their hair.

"What's the point if I'll be taking it all off in a moment?" Tav teased, loosening the towel tied around their torso, letting it fall to their ankles. They stood damp and bare as Uktar continued to dry their hair, pretending he hadn't even noticed his partner's playful advances.

He took the towel off their head and held it against the small of their back, pulling their naked body into him, "The point's in how much fun it'll be to get you out of them myself."

Tav felt their cheeks flush. They reached their hands up to his neck and pulled him down to meet them. They kissed the cold lips of his mask as if they were truly his, before moving down to his chin and neck. Their skin still warm from the bath, they made sure to hold their lips against him long enough to share their heat.

Uktar dropped the towel he had been using to hold Tav against him and wrapped his hands around their bare back. He relished the softness of their skin, squishing the plush spot where their hips met their thighs, running his fingers down the curves of their ass while they kissed him.

He tasted like he had actually bathed before coming, outside of being caught in the storm. There was a taste of earth from the rainwater, but beneath it was a musk of soap and… aftershave?

Tav pulled back and glanced up at him, "Are you… wearing cologne?" They smiled as their eyebrows twisted, once again trying to stop themselves from laughing.

Uktar gently pushed Tav away from him, "You get mad when I come in smelling like the sewers, are you really gonna give me shit for trying to clean up for a change?" Tav covered their mouth as to not be rude, hiding their smile.

After the first few times they teased him, Uktar had either bathed before arriving or bathed at the Caress when coming straight from the Guild. But this was the first time he seemed to have put on some sort of fragrance oil, and it had caught Tav by surprise.

"No, no, you're right," they tried to calm their giggling, "Its sweet. And preferable. Thank you," They pulled him back into a hug, kissing the exposed skin on his chest that his shirt and robe didn't quite cover. Tav turned and made their way to the wardrobe as Uktar sat in a plush armchair. He took the opportunity of Tav standing behind the divider to lift his mask and expose his lips, picking off grapes and sipping wine as he waited for his partner to dress.

"What would you like me to wear?" Tav called out to him, lilt in their voice sounding coy and seductive.

"Whatever you want, Sweetness," Uktar replied nonchalant, popping another grape in his mouth. Tav groaned. It was so hard getting him to play along sometimes. They threw on undergarments, and settled on a thin, billowing shirt. It reminded them of something Astarion might've worn, though a bit see-through with the light weight fabric.

Seeing no point in wasting time with too much clothing, they cleared their throat before coming out from behind the screen. Uktar took one large sip of wine before lowering his mask again, and Tav gradually slipped their body out into the open.

They ran their finger along the edge of the wooden divider, looking up at the man sitting a few feet away as they took their time approaching. They saw Uktar shift in his seat, gripping the arms of his chair. They could practically feel the way his hungry eyes devoured them, hidden behind his porcelain guise.

Tav reached out for their own glass of wine and drank readily, letting one hand run up Uktar's thigh as they placed their goblet back onto the table.

Immediately, Uktar had their wrist in his hand. Pulling them down to him, he wrapped his arm around their back and practically threw them up onto his lap. Tav laughed at the way he tossed them around, letting their hands settle on his chest as he ran his own hands down their back.

"Sooo… what's on your mind tonight?" Tav asked teasingly. The man beneath them let his grip squeeze into their hips as he subtly rocked himself against them. Tav's mouth opened in a silent moan, smiling and running their hands up to his neck.

"Same as always, gorgeous," Uktar's thumbs pushed into the dips of Tav's hips, where their thighs curved in towards their core, "Let's just see what gets us there."

They let their fingers trace along his neck, the tips of their nails ever so delicately gliding across his skin. He sighed, letting his head rest back against the plush arm chair. He watched as Tav took the opportunity to plant kisses on his neck, running their hands down under the tops of his robes. His chest rose, taking in deep breaths under their touch. Tav could feel the warm air building under his porcelain mask - his breath smelling of wine, mint, and molasses. His hands ran up and down their sides, hips gently pushing up into them. They rolled their own body in response, tracing their tongue along the risen veins against his skin.

Uktar's hand knotted into their hair, holding them steady and forcing them slightly away from him. Not enough to stop their touch, but far enough to make them really have to work to keep their lips and tongue against his skin. They smiled and laughed wantonly, pulling at the collar of his clothes.

They felt the strength of his raw desire in his touch, and the ever stiffening length between his legs. Tav's tongue ran down his exposed skin as far as his clothes allowed, before trailing kisses back up his neck, nibbling his ear as he ran his hand from their hair down their spine.

"I wish I could kiss you," Tav sighed.

"You know why you can't," Uktar muttered in response, wrapping his hands around the small of their back, pulling them closer. They felt his hands creep under their top, warm and welcome against their bare skin.

"What if I promised to keep my eyes closed," they teased, nuzzling their nose against him. He let out a gentle laugh.

"Not good enough, Sweetness," Uktar ran his hand up their spine, reveling in the touch of their bodies together. It was short lived, however, as Tav groaned and pulled back, hands resting on his chest as they propped themselves atop him.

They toyed with the edge of his robes, untying the clasps and running their hands over his plain undershirt. Uktar watched them from beneath his refined veneer. Their hands weakly attempting to undress him, their expression seemingly disinterested now. Or rather... distracted. A slew of emotions were obvious across their face, now clearly frustrated and discouraged.

He removed his hands from Tav's back and ran them over his chest, meeting theirs and resting his hands atop their own. He brought their knuckles up to his masked lips, making Tav smile at his attempted thoughtfulness. He took their hands and moved them again. Letting each of Tav's hands rest on either side of his neck, directing their thumbs under the very edge of his covering.

Tav's heart fluttered, gazing into the doll-like eyes of Uktar's mask. At times, they swear they could see his true eyes peaking beneath, watching them wistfully. Swirls of grey and green. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, of a day they could gaze into his eyes in truth.

He nodded as Tav paused, a small gesture allowing them to continue. They let their thumbs travel the length of his jaw, stilling by his chin. His hands held their wrists loosely, allowing them the freedom to move them as they wished. Tav hesitantly ran their thumb over his chin and across his bottom lip, concealed beneath his veil. Their breathing shuddered in tandem at the tenderness of Tav's soft finger against his dry lips, shocked to feel a ring pierced through the center. Uktar went to lick them instinctively, grazing Tav's thumb in the process, causing them to release a breathy moan.

They dropped their forehead against his own cold ceramic disguise, cupping his head in their hands and kissing his porcelain lips with fervor. Short lived - their kisses slowed to a halt, and Tav's chest eventually started heaving.

They didn't cry. Gods, they couldn't cry in front of him. But the ache in their gut was all consuming. They held their forehead against his, praying he couldn't see the tears building up within them from behind his covered eyes. They managed to turn their growing sorrow into a weak laugh.

"This is torture, you know," they pushed themselves from his chest and off his lap, pacing around the room.

Uktar ran his hands over his mask and slumped into the armchair, "Gods, Tav, not this again."

"No, it's not fair, Uktar! We've been seeing each other for months. We're both involved with the guild now - If I found out you're hiding some sort of 'secret identity' and ratted you out, I'd be killed…"

"And we can't have that," Uktar interjected sarcastically. Tav shot him an annoyed glare, and he responded with an exasperated shrug before pushing himself to his feet, "What do you want me to say, Tav? We've been over this! I just…!" He gestured to himself, frustrated, "I just can't, okay? Can we leave it be?"

Tav folded their arms across their chest, looking away from him to hide the tears they felt creeping up on them once more.

"I'm not going to judge you, you know," they said, quietly, "I wouldn't do that. I wouldn't think you were…" they bit their tongue, careful not to inadvertently say something hurtful, "I wouldn't be scared of you."

The air went silent in the room above the caress. They heard Uktar's heavy footfalls approach cautiously until his presence could be felt behind them. Their breath faltering as they felt his hands running over their shoulders, down their arms, slowly enveloping their folded limbs in his own. They felt the rise and fall of his chest pressed against them as they stood together.

"I know you think that, Tav," he murmured, his chin resting on their shoulder.

"I don't just think that," Tav snapped back in defense, "I'm not heartless. I'm not some kid scared of a boogie-man. Need I remind you what my teammates looked like after eating Ilithid worms? On purpose? Hells, I honestly thought Gale looked better for it," Uktar scoffed as he tried to hide his laughter. Tav leaned their head against his, a hand snaking up around the back of his neck, "Besides… as much as I would love to see you, that's not even what I'm asking," they nudged into the exposed skin at the crook of his neck, "I just… I want to feel you, Uktar."

They felt his body tense at their words, gripping them tighter, humming to himself. Time slowed as he gently rocked his body with theirs, eventually relaxing, running his hands along their arms before releasing them slowly.

"Perhaps," he spoke at first with a small hint of unease. But after a pause, he continued, his tone shifting into something more alluring, shrouded in excitement. Tav turned to look at him curiously.

"Perhaps, we can… compromise."

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

What Else Ought There Be?

Summary: In which Gawain is one, if not the only true, silver lining in a never-ending cesspool of bodies, ale, and coin.

Pairing: Sir Gawain x prostitute!afab!Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Content Warnings: PWP 18+!, Recurring Angst, Gawain Being Needy And Touch Starved, Body Worship, Oral (F Receiving), Hair Tugging, A Little Oral Fixation, Tongue Fucking, Slight Power Dynamics

A/N: Bouncing off the walls in my enclosure over him.

Tagging: @ohlookapan @ipetite69

Hold, hold my hand, dear love

Hold, hold my hand

Cold, cold the night has grown

No coin to ease my wandering

- Blome Swete Lilie Flour By Daniel Hart

A faint shriek bounced off the cold stonewalls down the hallway, followed by laughter and the creaking of an old well-used bed frame, before you closed the thick wooden door to save yourself a modicum of privacy. One might think that the whorehouses would be more empty around the sacred days of the coming of Christ, men spending their time with their actual families instead of wasting their coin and health for naked skin and ale, but that wasn’t even close to the reality of things.

The colder the winds outside grew, the more every knight and every squire bootlicking their way through the king’s high halls for a meager token of his gratitude sought warmth between an easy maiden's legs. All of them but one, a certain Sir Gawain straying from your sight for over an entire week by now, highly unlike him, the one always seeking you out for comfort and companionship at the next best opportunity opening up to him. He wouldn’t just leave you sitting here, tugging at the cloak around your shoulders to contain the fleeting warmth emitting from your skin. Not without good reason would he let you simmer in the nagging uncertainty of his whereabouts. Throughout the past nights, the landscape of your emotions had changed from confusion to anger fueled by worry and to render stuck in the valley of hollowing longing eventually.

Albeit him staying away, you weren’t lonely in the very sense of it, busy with earning your coin in the means to survive, spending your nights laying with whomever wanted to spend their time with you; relationshipless interactions, gold, and silver for bare skin and a faked climax. All these other men didn’t make you feel like he did when he was with you, not even remotely and you built up a wall of indifference to keep them out and away from your heart of hearts, to their loveless touch that searched to only satisfy them - not you. You were naught but a piece of meat for them to pass around, to each have their go at your body before you spent hours scrubbing their dirt from your thighs and tits and everywhere else they had decided they wanted to see you soiled.

A cold shiver ran down your spine as you thought about it, thought about going back out there into the fire pit and candle-lit tavern to entertain men you could hardly care any less about, passing time in the throes of alcohol, smoke, and the stench of sweat. Maybe you simply wouldn't tonight, perchance this ought to be the Christmas present from yourself to yourself, to take a night and recover, pour a big, hot tub and feel the warmth creep into every last nook and cranny and ravel in the-

You startled, back thudding against the harshly cut stones, as the door to your darkened room pushed open, the seam of a brightly mustard-colored tunic peaking through the gap before tufts of raven curls followed.

“Merry….Christmas?” The familiar voice quipped and you struggled to decide whether to pounce him to tear his eyes out or to kiss him, equal drive for both making you wince under your breath.

“Now, look what the cat dragged in.” The words slithered over your tongue in a sharp whisper, keeping Gawain to stop in the door frame for a brief moment, hesitating and quietly assessing how much damage his unprompted disappearance left in its wake.

The tall man bit down on his bottom lip, the scruff of his beard scratching along the delicate skin just like his teeth did before he eventually stepped into the damp and musty chamber, an aura of guilt following his every move.

“Would you hear me out and let me explain myself?” Dark eyes searched for yours as he stepped closer to the bed, arms crossed behind his back and brows slightly arched into an apologetic expression.

“It better be good, Gawain, or you can pay someone else to be your fool.” The way in which you had worded that stung both of you like the sharp prick of a sewing needle breaking through the first layers of skin; uncomfortable for sure, however, not severe enough to tear a wound.

At that, his shoulders dropped in defeat, the creaking of the closing door almost deafeningly shrill and distorted.

“Be assured that I did not know that I was to be sent out of town, else I would have told you, I promise.”, It rolled over his tongue in a sincere apology, “And I haven't come empty-handed, mylady.”

To finally see eye to eye with you, Gawain dropped to his knees entirely undemanded, right between your legs dangling off the bed frame, the gesture leaving you smitten, open to possible reconciliation if he kept this demeanor.

“Oh?” You couldn’t withhold a sly smile any longer for it tugged at the corners of your mouth quite restlessly.

“Dare I repeat myself? Merry Christmas.”, From crossed arms behind his back, Gawain unveiled a little package kept together by knotted cloth, keeping its contents safely stacked on top of itself, “I recall a little birdy tweeting and chirping all about mylady being particularly fond of a certain…treat.”

You exhaled heavily, eyes wanting to roll into the far back of your skull because he was so devastatingly charming that it was almost impossible to be actually mad with him for long.

“Is that so?”, You accepted his little gift, taking from his hand gently upholding the parcel for you, “Let's see.”

The very second his fingers weren't occupied with presenting the little pile of cloth and its curiosity-evoking contents, they darted out to palm at your calves first, his thumbs caressing along the muscle underneath your garments. Of course he did, always the one in unquenchable need to feel your skin close to his as soon as possible to the extent you sometimes wondered about it bordering on compulsion.

“Oh.” It jumped from your lips in positive surprise upon unwrapping the parcel, the cloth uncovering a delicate pile of pastries; green ribbons of leek in between puffy baked dough and crumbles of cheese.

That was indeed one way to apologize; culinary seduction before you could catch up to what nimble and slender fingers were doing to your legs, wandering up under layers of fabric until his palms warmed the insides of your thighs, having your breath hitching behind the root of your tongue.

“You are such a little weasel.”, He looked up with widened eyes and thick, knit-together brows, “Thinking that you can bribe me with pastry? Gawain…”

You could see it on his face, how his heart had dropped for a moment, the tender grasp at your thighs turning more intense as the worry of you just standing up and leaving had flitted through his ribcage before it all got shut down by your fingers reaching out to teasingly tug at his beard, raising his chin up high enough for him to look nowhere else than right at you.

“Just leaving me here without so much as a word? That's not nice, is it?” You led your thumb to trace the curve of his plush lips before carefully pushing past, his tongue meeting the pad of your thumb immediately as his mouth dropped agape to offer you entrance.

Gawain shook his head, agreeing with you before he tried to articulate another apology but you held his tongue down against the bottom of his jaw.

“No, no, no more words. You have to try harder than that, understand?” The question was met with a nod and a small whine rumbling free from his throat as you pulled your finger from his mouth and wiped the saliva-dampened tip on his cheek.

Without his slightly glazed-over eyes ever breaking from your gaze, Gawain bunched up the layers of your garments to reside draped around your waist before his lips started leaving a trail of kisses starting from your knee leading up your thigh.

You sensed the heat surging into your face with every new touch of his mouth against increasingly sensitive skin and your heart ached in unison; the certainty of having missed him enough to forgive him whatever had led him to stay away with the second he'd walked through that door didn't sit easy with you. He'd become important to you, perhaps too much so for this world didn't allow such a thing as permanence, especially not to someone like you.

Your breaths gradually flattened in anticipation as he inched closer with each tender peck and cheeky nip at your thigh, the immediate rise of warmly tingling arousal helping you to shush your reeling thoughts until it all went blank; the sensation of Gawain's tongue darting out to lap at your weeping cunt drowning everything else out radically.

Like a man starved from human touch for too long a time, the tender nudges of his tongue quickly turned into him burying his face amidst your legs, the bridge of his nose rubbing at your swollen clit as he pushed deeper, the dense muscle slithering inside, exploring you as if he hadn’t done it uncountable times before. It made you quiver, the way his fingers clawed into your flesh, unwilling to let you loose anytime soon.

Although he hardly admitted it out loud, Gawain needed you as much as you needed him. Both of you making each other feel less lost in a world wedged between gray-clouded skies and sopping wet hay on muddy streets.

A breathy sigh slipped from your mouth as you let your hand roam back, digging into his thick curls where your fingertips scraped over his scalp gently, coaxing a moan to spill from his chest and hum right through you.

“Don’t you ever do that again, Gawain, you hear me?” Only seconds after you’d uttered the words, you felt like biting down onto the tip of your tongue as if that would’ve made them unsaid again.

Quietly, you cursed yourself for being so helplessly fond of him but more so for showing it to him, making yourself needlessly vulnerable in a society in which you stood as an outcast already. There’d be no happy ending to this grand folly of yours for Gawain was meant to be a knight and you to end up dead in a disease-ridden ditch during a freezing cold winter's night, maybe 5 or perhaps 10 years down the road if you were lucky.

“Don’t you ever just leave again.” The words came coarse and with a sharp prickling of tears gathering at your lower lashline, emotions betraying, overwhelming as you grasped a fistful of his curls, tugging him impossibly closer to you.

Unable to properly vocalize an answer, Gawain palmed at your thighs all the harder, handling your knees onto his shoulders in a devout notion that you were in control; if you wanted to squeeze his face between your thighs, you simply could.

The thought didn’t linger too far off for a whim, a surge of anger proposing to hurt him to an equivalent his sudden absence had pained you, however, it wouldn’t have made any change for the better in the long run, quite the opposite, really. There wouldn’t be any satisfactory retribution hidden in senseless acts of violence.

Instead, you let your head loll back against the wall of stone towering behind you, eyes fluttering shut to gain back control over the threatening gush of hot tears waiting to spill free from your tear ducts. You didn’t want to cry, not right now and not in front of him either for it would only render everything even more complicated than it had gotten already.

It would’ve been ridiculous to cry now, Gawain set your whole body awash with pleasure, tongue prodding and curling inside of you as his nose caressed over your throbbing clit with each dip of his face amidst your legs; emotional dread and physical ecstasy dancing through you hand in hand, coming together to form a truly malevolent concoction.

“Don’t stop.” You mouthed into the darkened room, feeling how your lower abdomen grew more taut by the second, your insides clenching down around the nimbly moving muscle in increasingly more violent contractions.

Little embers of pleasure quickly set off an entire wildfire of blossoming bliss in the pit of your stomach, a rush of warmth rippling through your body, and you forced back a guttural whine, not wanting anybody to hear you in here because you refused to become just another voice in the never-ending cacophony of pretentious moans and play-pretend orgasms for someone else to get off to.

Gawain slowly halted in his ministrations, tongue tenderly guiding you through your release whilst lapping up the gush of wetness he’d pulled from your body. You heard him breathing heavily after he broke from you, a thoroughly dampened cheek resting against your thigh and nearly black eyes darting up at you. You squinted down at him in a half-lidded gaze, ribcage heaving heavily with a fading high.

“Oh, behold, a Christmas miracle?” You frowned at him whilst watching him roam around beneath his tunic, a little brown leather pouch emerging inside his palm moments later.

“Gawain?” You cocked your head to the side, eyeing the small thing, “What is that?”

“That’s for you but it mayhaps comes with a wee plea from yours truly.” He placed the pouch on the ruffles of your bunched-up dress, the soft yet distinct clinking of coin making your head shake immediately.

“No, no, no, no. I can’t take this. No way, Gawain.” Before you could push the pouch off your lap again, his hands darted up to cradle yours.

“I beg of you. Take it. It’s about a week's worth. Take it, please, take it and come with me for that week.”, With his spine back upright, he scooted closer, knees scruffing over the unforgiving floor until the wooden frame of the bed pushed into his torso, “I want to get away from here, with you, even if it’s just for a few days. You deserve it, we do.”

“Gawain…”

“Please. I beg of you.”