#the beard ladies and gentlemen

[uncivilcivilservice]

There's a poll going round with long defences as to why Armand is a DILF

I am sorry, Armand is in no way a DILF. A 17 year old can be a literal father, but they aren't a DILF. Armand might take on some paternal roles to a couple of people with mixed success, but he is not, under any circumstances, a DILF

[srslyblvck]

── secret santa,, james potter [part two]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1.1k

part one!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE GIFT EXCHANGE UNFOLDED in a whirlwind of laughter and surprise. Sirius, true to form, had been uncharacteristically secretive in the days leading up to the event. That alone had set off alarms, and when he strolled into the common room pushing a large object covered in a velvet cloth on a rickety old stroller, you and Marlene exchanged knowing looks.

“Any guesses?” Marlene whispered, elbowing you as Sirius dramatically cleared his throat.

“Do we even need to guess?” you muttered back, stifling a laugh.

Sirius clapped his hands together, commanding everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and Moony,” he said, smirking at Remus, “I present to you the pièce de résistance, the magnum opus, the most legendary Secret Santa gift in Hogwarts history!”

Remus raised an eyebrow, looking amused but wary. “I don’t know if I should be terrified or flattered.”

Sirius ignored him and grabbed the edge of the cloth. “I told them to make it bigger,” he lamented dramatically. “But they just didn’t have the time. Ah, well. Behold!”

With a flourish, he whipped the cloth away, revealing a giant chocolate wolf, standing on all fours and towering at least an inch taller than Sirius himself. The room erupted into cheers and laughter, but you and Marlene were nearly in tears, clutching each other as you tried to contain your giggles.

“Merlin’s beard,” Remus muttered, stepping closer to inspect the monstrosity. “This is... something.”

“It’s everything,” Sirius corrected, looking immensely pleased with himself. “Hand-crafted by the finest chocolatiers in Hogsmeade. The wingspan of those ears alone! Tell me it’s not perfection.”

Remus shook his head, a fond smile creeping onto his face. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously thoughtful, you mean,” Sirius replied, puffing out his chest.

The rest of the gifts followed in quick succession. Peter received a self-refilling candy jar from Dorcas, and Marlene was gifted a set of enchanted Quidditch gloves from Lily that could warm themselves in the cold. When it was your turn, Lily handed you a neatly wrapped box. Inside was a gorgeous hardcover book on advanced defensive spells, its gilded pages shimmering in the firelight.

“Lily, this is amazing,” you said, touched by the thoughtfulness of her gift.

“Well, I had some help,” Lily admitted with a smile, nodding toward James. “He said you mentioned wanting it.”

Your stomach fluttered, and you glanced over at James, who was currently distracted by Sirius poking the chocolate wolf.

After all the gifts had been opened and the wrapping paper lay scattered across the floor like confetti, someone suggested revealing the Secret Santas. Sirius, naturally, couldn’t wait to take credit for his masterpiece, and one by one, everyone admitted who they had been paired with. When it came to James, he stood and spun in place, scanning the room dramatically.

“It was you,” he declared, pointing directly at you.

The room went quiet as everyone turned to look at you, and your cheeks burned under the sudden attention. “Alright, alright,” you said, holding up your hands in surrender. “It was me.”

Before you could say anything else, James let out a whoop and launched himself across the room. You barely had time to brace yourself as he wrapped his arms around you in an exuberant hug, lifting you slightly off the ground.

“Thank you!” he said, grinning from ear to ear as he set you down. “This is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. I’ve got the best Secret Santa ever.”

You laughed nervously, your face aflame. “It’s just a notebook and a pin, James. Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it?” he repeated, looking scandalized. “You’ve clearly never received socks from Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius interjected, but James waved him off, still beaming at you.

In the days that followed, you noticed James with the notebook everywhere. He scribbled in it during class, carried it tucked under his arm in the corridors, and even brought it to breakfast. As for the pin, he flaunted it proudly, even showing it off to Professor McGonagall one morning.

“Very nice, Potter,” McGonagall said, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “But I suggest you focus more on your Transfiguration essay and less on your accessories.”

James nodded solemnly but winked at you as soon as McGonagall’s back was turned.

One evening, the common room was quieter than usual, the buzz of the day fading into the crackle of the fire and the occasional rustle of pages turning. You were curled up in your favorite armchair, a book resting in your lap, utterly lost in its pages. It was one of those rare moments of peace at Hogwarts, and you relished it, unaware of the pair of hazel eyes watching you from across the room.

James had been sitting there for some time, the notebook in hand, pretending to work on what looked like Quidditch plays. In reality, he’d been sketching you. His quill moved quickly, capturing the way your hair caught the firelight, the slight furrow in your brow as you read, and the way your lips curved ever so slightly, as though you were on the edge of a smile.

He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to draw you. Maybe it was the way you seemed to disappear into your own little world when you read, or maybe it was how your presence seemed to anchor the chaotic energy of the common room. Whatever it was, James found himself unable to look away.

Finally, when he was satisfied with the sketch, he cleared his throat softly. “Hey,” he said, his voice low so as not to startle you.

You looked up, blinking as though surfacing from a dream. “Oh, hi,” you said, setting your book down. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Long enough,” he replied with a teasing grin. He held out the notebook. “I’ve been working on something. Want to see?”

You took the notebook hesitantly, your brows furrowing in curiosity. As you turned it toward you, your breath caught.

On the page was a drawing of you, so lifelike it felt like looking into a mirror—or maybe something better. The firelight he’d captured gave the sketch a warm glow, and every detail was perfect, from the tilt of your head to the way your fingers rested lightly on the pages of your book.

“James…” you murmured, tracing the edges of the drawing with your fingertips. “This is beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as the real thing,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied smirk.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly, but you couldn’t stop the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “You’re insufferable.”

“True,” James said, “But at least now I’ve got a proper muse.”

James Potter was, without a doubt, impossible. But as you glanced up and caught him watching you again, you realized there was something about that impossibility that you didn’t mind one bit.

[ivystoryweaver]

Your Father’s Rival!Leto Atreides x Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Read the prequel (but this can be read alone) - Your Father's Rival!Leto Atreides x F!virgin!reader

BEAUTIFUL ART for this story

Word count: 3.9k

NSFW MDNI. AU in the sense that there's no mention of Lady Jessica or Paul Atreides. Not beta'd, angst, smut, p in v, creampie, fingering, choking-ish, angry sex, tiny bit of thigh fucking, nipple play, breeding kink, pregnant sex, Leto is possessive af

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Your husband’s heated breath falls warm and heavy on your neck. Broad hips push into you from behind, his cock sheathed in your slick, wet channel.

Hands grasping at you possessively, he cups your breast and spreads his other palm protectively over your growing abdomen. He groans, rutting into you faster, tracing the rounded shape of you.

The way he’s stretching you, filling you, sends your back arching, breathy moans steadily growing louder as he thrusts faster and deeper.

A delicious pressure builds deep in your center. Leto's thick fingers inch lower, strumming at your sensitive folds until your gasps of pleasure escalate into cries of ecstasy.

Your tired, swollen body seizes in pleasure, liquifying in his arms as he loses himself inside you, groaning on your ear.

As you come down together, his nose brushes along your jawline. He holds you against his chest, urging you to give into your exhaustion and rest.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

The next day, you are summoned to an official meeting. Your husband sits in the center of a large, stone conference table, with his advisors flanking him on the right and left. He greets you with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes, motioning for you to stand while everyone else takes an oddly intimidating seat.

"We have some questions for you, Duchess," Thufir Hawat, the head of Leto's security begins after clearing his throat.

"Questions?" Your gaze flies to Leto's, whose eyes flicker away. He strokes his beard pensively.

"Indeed," Hawat continues. "Some communications between you and your father have...raised concerns."

You shake your head. "What communications?" Attempting to catch your husband's gaze, to read anything about what is going on, your throat goes dry. He won't even look at you.

"Leto?"

"The Duke would like you to enlighten us as the nature of some of these messages."

Smoothing your hand over your abdomen instinctively, you bristle. "What messages? I haven't been in contact with my father."

The gentlemen at the table with your husband exchange glances, readjusting uncomfortably in their seats.

"We have a number of transmissions using your personal code," Hawat went on. "But you're claiming you haven't spoken to your father?"

"Leto, what is this?" You approach your husband boldly, placing both hands on the table top, which prompts Duncan Idaho, Leto's swordmaster, to his feet.

"Let's keep this formal," Hawat instructs, motioning for you to step back.

Your throat tightens, pulse racing as Duncan stares you down coldly.

He's...defending Leto. From you.

"For fuck's sake, stand down," Leto orders, his tone clipped. You aren't certain, at first, if he is more frustrated with you or with Duncan.

His eyes, dark and unreadable, land on you. "When did you last contact your father?"

Is this really happening? Leto is actually interrogating you.

"To give him our happy news," you desperately utter, both hands wrapped around your rounded belly. "Weeks and weeks ago. And nothing since, I swear it."

"Yes, we have that message here," Thufir Hawat confirms as Duncan takes his seat. "It reads, 'We can rejoice. It is done. I am with child.'" His eyes narrow pensively. "What did you mean by, 'it is done'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," you scoff, glancing between Hawat and your husband in disbelief. "My father knew Leto and I wanted a child and I let him know."

"'It is done' sounds more like a task: a chore, or an assignment," Hawat argues, "not like 'happy news'. Was this your goal all along? Marriage to House Atreides, to the Duke of Caladan, to carry an Atreides heir, to gain a foothold here? To report back to your father?"

"How dare you?" You hiss, eyes brimming with tears. "I have not been communicating with my father."

"I have the messages here - "

"They weren't sent by me," you insist. "I haven't spoken to him."

"But this is your personal code. Who else would have sent them?"

You glare at your accuser defiantly. "Now you're asking the right questions."

"Give us the room." The voice of your husband, smooth and steady, sends his trusted council scurrying as he stands. Fingertips pressing against the tabletop, he sighs, realizing Duncan hasn't left his side.

He pats the taller man on the shoulder and nods for him to leave. With a final glare your way, Duncan complies.

As soon as you are alone with your husband, you cover your mouth with one hand to try to stifle any more of an emotional display than you've already given. But it's too late since tears are streaking down your cheeks.

"Forgive me," Leto says quietly, fidgeting with his ducal ring before easing around the table to stand in front of you.

Wiping your eyes, you try to control the waver of your voice. "Did you really have your high council question me like a suspect or a criminal?"

"A criminal?" One of Leto's dark eyebrows arches wryly. "Duncan would not have behaved himself if you were a criminal."

"Nice to know," you spat. "You couldn't have asked me yourself? Was that really necessary? It was humiliating. And frightening."

"I apologize, truly, my love," Leto softly insists. "The communications were brought to my attention, and yes, I could have asked you myself, but a brief, formal questioning quickly showed everyone that there is nothing to hide."

"I do have nothing to hide," you insist. "I've spoken with my father maybe three times since I arrived here."

"There are at least a dozen messages transmitted with your code," Leto reiterates. "Talking with you is the first step in what will need to be an investigation."

Moving into your personal space, he peers deeply into your eyes and gathers your hands in his. "If you say you didn't send the messages, I believe you, but you're right. We need to find out who did."

"I swear to you Leto," you tell him, meeting his gaze openly. "I'm not spying for my father. Or sending him anything."

He nods, but the wrinkle on his forehead deepens. "But...he asked you to. Didn't he?"

You swallow hard, wondering how your marriage could possibly benefit, or even survive your father's initial directive: to seduce the Duke and provide him with an heir. But spying was never part of it.

"I just thought...after what I admitted to you," Leto went on, "How I wanted you for myself, to take you away from you father - I thought maybe he'd shared a similar idea. Hatched a plot, for you to come here and undermine my position."

You could lie now. Deny everything, swear utter loyalty to Leto - let him believe you were an innocent, doe eyed virgin, who had fallen for his trap. He likely preferred to think of you that way. Most men would.

But the thing of it was - you truly loved him. And after he'd confessed to you, you found yourself unsure of how to live with anything other than honesty with him, when he was directly questioning you.

"It was the same for me, at first," you slowly admit. "My father encouraged me to...show interest in you. To entice you to warm to me."

Leto's jaw clenches, his face stiff as his starched uniform. "So I am a part of your father's game. His play for power."

"That's what he wanted when he arrived here, but after that gala, and especially after the first time in the garden, I knew it would be the easiest thing in the world to fall in love with you."

Reaching for his cheek, you rake your fingers through his beard. "But he never asked me to spy on you, I swear it. Even if he did, I would've said no because I truly love you." Squeezing your joined hand, you kiss his knuckles. "My sweet husband. I could never hurt you." Your gaze locks with his. "I haven't sent any new messages."

His jaw shifts pensively as he wrestles with doubt. "Why didn't you tell me the truth before, when I confessed to you? You made me feel like I did this wretched thing, but you did the same thing to me. Why didn't you admit it?"

"Because you would've sent me away," you emphatically insist. "And it was too late because I was already in love with you. I couldn't let my father's stupid rivalry poison any more of my life, or take away the one good thing in my life."

"But you've admitted that you were sent here for a reason, and now these messages we've found... Thufir won't let this go easily. You should've told me."

"We both played a rival's game, Leto, but we won it," you say with conviction, pushing his hand over your swollen abdomen. "You, most of all, because you have my devotion and my loyalty. I am Atreides. This child is Atreides."

He nods, his eyes softening with understanding, but you see doubt lingering there. "You are your father's daughter. Nothing can change that. You love him. You love your home."

"This is my home," you utter wholeheartedly as his forehead drops to yours. "You are my family."

"I am unsure I deserve to be," Leto murmurs against your cheek. "You are not mistaken about the rivalry with your father and myself. And both of us used you like a game piece."

"But you didn't," you refute, locking your arms behind his neck. "You told me the truth before we married. I could have walked away. I wanted to stay. It's true, I wanted to please my father, because that's the way I've had to survive. Caladan has given me a way out of that life. I would never betray it. Especially not now."

Leto embraces you and you melt against the warmth of his chest, grateful, praying he believes you.

Only, a moment later, Thufir Hawat appears.

"Are you satisfied?" Leto asks the older man, who nods once, and retreats.

Tears burn your eyes as you back away, horrified. "You were still interrogating me? A-are they all listening?"

"I promised them you would be questioned fairly and thoroughly, to clear your name," Leto explains, "So that they would be sure to see you the way I see you."

"Those words were meant for your ears, Leto," you cry, shaking your head, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Duncan appears and Leto grants another infuriatingly calm nod. "Escort my wife to her chambers. Guard her with your life."

Your face crumples, heart dropping to your stomach as you're ushered away to what feels like house arrest. You adore Leto, but if he wants to exert the control your father is famous for, you're going to put up a fight.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Your husband comes to your chambers after lunch, dismissing your staff with a wave of his hand.

You glare at him before bowing deeply. "Your Grace."

He smirks. "Duchess. I trust you are comfortable."

"As comfortable as any caged bird ever was, I suppose."

"You are angry. I understand."

"How perceptive, Your Grace. It is no wonder the Emperor favors you so."

"Are you finished?" He snaps, dark eyes flashing. "You can be angry with me if you wish, but there is protocol to be followed here. The evidence against you carries the penalty of death for treason. Do you understand that?"

"I understand that something is terribly wrong here. Someone has accessed or stolen my personal code and transmitted messages in my name - messages I know nothing about. And instead of protecting me, you're interrogating me."

"I came here to check on you and the baby," he says sincerely.

"Your heir and his mother are healthy and functioning properly in their assigned roles, I assure you."

Leto’s nostrils flare, his lips pulling into a thin line. “You’ll want to remember who your allies are, my lady. You’re a stranger in a foreign land.”

With a glare as cold as ice, he traces the shape of your cheek with his fingertips.

You flinch almost imperceptibly, swallowing thickly as you realize your own husband has all but threatened you.

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

The ice in your veins seeps into the halls of Castle Caladan, sending servants scurrying with whispers of intrigue and espionage.

You expect your husband to leave you in your rooms, locked away and guarded by Duncan, but he joins you later, after you've washed and readied yourself for bed.

Without a moment's hesitation, and acting as if you are in his chambers, where you normally both sleep, he undresses, washes up and climbs into bed with you.

Your body tenses as his arm slips around your waist, his breath ghosting the back of your neck as he presses his chest against your back.

"Sleep well, my Duchess," he murmurs, palm spreading protectively over your abdomen.

Jaw clenching in fury, you shrug him off. "Perhaps Your Grace has failed to realize these are my chambers, and not your own."

"All of this castle belongs to me, as do you, my lady," he breathes lowly on your neck, teeth nipping at your flesh as he slips his fingers under your silky gown, running both hands over your thighs and stomach possessively.

"I am not your property," you hiss, squirming in his hold. Your backside rubs against his cock, alerting you the the fact that he is completely naked, hard and leaking already.

He groans, rutting against the round curve of your ass, hands tracing over your rounded shape to cup your heavy, swollen breasts. A breathy moan rushes out of you as he teases your tender nipples, pausing for a moment to tug your gown over your head and toss it aside.

His tongue swirls in your ear as one hand slides down to the wet, weeping core of you. You almost hate your body for responding to him so eagerly.

"Remember the first time I slipped my finger inside you?" He goads, stroking your clit with a featherlight tease. "You were so tight I could barely get my knuckle into you."

He plunges two fingers inside, swirling them into the spongy softness he feels there.

Despite your worry and anger over the day's events, your hips find a familiar rhythm rocking against your husbands dextrous digits, coaxing you toward mind-shattering release.

"I couldn't believe you let me touch you like that," he grunts, working his hand in and out of you faster. "I thought you were so innocent. So sweet." His thumb finds your clit and your back arches as you moan out his name.

He cinches you closer, back against his bare chest, one hand working you open, furiously fingerfucking you while using his hold on your breast to pinch your nipple punishingly. He keeps you there, stroke after stroke, for several quiet moments, rubbing his cock against you hungrily.

"But it was all an act," he growls, hand moving so fast, your body starts to vibrate with an all-encompassing bliss.

"You were on your father's errand," he spits, rutting into you, his cock slipping between your spread thighs. He moans as your slick drips down and coats him as he thrusts faster and faster. "And I've been nothing but a fool."

With that admission, he yanks his fingers away from you, leaving you teetering on the edge of a life changing orgasm. You cry out at the loss of stimulation, clawing through a haze of lust to determine why he's rolled away from you completely.

"L-Leto," you pant, blindly reaching for him, emboldened, rather than deterred as he shrugs you off.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you push yourself up into a sitting position so you can peer down at him. Still panting, you trace the shape of his muscled arm, if only to see if he'll flinch and withdraw from your touch.

He does not.

So you trace over the lines and planes of his beautiful body, fingers dancing temptingly along his inner thigh until you wrap around his length and tug.

He swallows hard, desperate for your touch, but his eyes flash with the betrayal from the secret you've kept.

"You know," you begin, climbing over him, which takes some doing with your distended belly, "I think I've been in love with you my whole life."

With arms braced on either side of his head, you plant your knees beside his hips, lowering your dripping cunt to tease the tip of his cock. With a shift of your hips, forward and back, you let him glide through your folds, lowering yourself a little more with each pass.

"I wanted you since I was old enough to want a man," you tell him, rubbing your folds up and down his full length, gasping as he tilts his hips to meet your thrusts.

"You're the first man - the only man I ever fantasized about, when I touched myself, alone at night."

He groans as you line yourself up with his fat tip and slowly sink down seating yourself on him, taking him deep inside you. "Once I was a proper age, I would try to find the most discreet ways to ask my father when we could visit Caladan again. Just for a glimpse of you. So I could see the thickness of your beard, hear the deep cadence of your voice. So I could renew my fantasies of ever being with a man like you."

Leto's hands grip your hips, pushing and pulling you, moving you faster. He's panting now, sweat beading on his noble brow, licking his lips at the sight of your breasts, ripe and round, bouncing deliciously as you ride him.

"It's a nice story," he grounds out, thumbs digging into your hip bones bruisingly as his hips meet your thrusts. "I think you flatter me too much, Duchess."

"It's true," you growl, boldly wrapping one hand around his throat. Although you've never initiated a dominating move like this with your husband, something in you wants to make him snap - so he'll stop you or claim you or something. So he'll listen.

You squeeze gently. "Every word I've ever spoken to you has been the truth." Your grip tightens and you hear a sound from him that makes your pussy quiver and clamp down on him. "I'm yours. This body is yours. My heart is yours. My devotion, my life..." Your voice fades away, replaced by a long, breathy moan of ecstasy as you come, cunt fluttering and gripping and soaking his cock as he spurts inside you, erupting and filling you with his warmth.

You collapse against him, exhausted as the day's tension drains out of you. Leto rolls you gently to the side, allowing your heavy limbs to rest against the soft bed.

Curled up beside you as you lay on your back, he strokes the side of your breast, the swell of your tummy, the round shape of your hip, up and back again.

After a moment he feels your breath stutter. Reaching for your face, he finds your cheek wet.

"Will you try to send me away?" You brokenly whisper. "After the baby is born? Will you try to take him from me?"

"Oh my love," he breathes, easing over you gently, hand cupping your jaw as he gazes down at you. "As if I could tear you away from our child. I don't think any force in this universe could."

You tearfully smile as he presses a kiss to your cheek. "My pride is wounded by your secret plot. But you are my wife. I could not bear to be without you."

"Because of our child?" You question, your voice sounding small.

"Because you are mine."

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

The tension of what you admitted to your husband - that you initially followed your father's directive to seduce him - slowly fades away over the next few days. And any...frustrations Leto seems to feel are released privately as he bites and presses and fucks them into your body each night.

Quiet whispers reveal lingering doubts and fears, confessed between lovers in the still of the night. His favorite thing to hear you say when he's inside you has become, "I am Atreides, this child is Atreides."

Leto decides to throw a ball for your father again. It's been about a year since the last one and he declares that it could be a tradition of sorts - a sign of peace between your two worlds. So instead of secrets and plots, with each of you seducing the other, he intends to show the galaxy that your love and your union have truly united bitter rivals at long last.

The planning of the gala will hopefully bring to light who is sending the messages, or at least if communications are still being sent to your father. Leto begs your indulgence as he temporarily has you guarded.

You argue that your people - your new people, here on Caladan won't trust you if they see you guarded like a spy - if they see Leto's doubt of you. But he makes sure that it is made clear that threats have been made against his Duchess and she is well protected.

You agree to the terms, only until your father arrives for the gala. The concessions you make win back the council's trust, for now, at least. You are given a new security code to transmit personal messages. Leto sends a formal invitation from House Atreides to invite your father's household to the gala.

Leto asks for your indulgence in one final detail. He wishes to oversee the construction of the gown you will wear. It will bear the deep greens and blacks of House Atreides. Your gown will be fitted to show off the swell of your abdomen and ample breasts, accented by a handcrafted House Atreides hawk emblem necklace.

"You will be the jewel of all Caladan - their true Duchess," he declares. You find you have no objection to his claiming of you in this way. You love your father, but you're weary of the rivalry with Caladan and House Atreides, and your heart is now and forever with Leto, and your unborn son.

The night of the gala arrives and you are dressed, perfumed and adorned like an Empress. Your gown is a stunning statement of Leto's ownership over you. Your pregnant body is a banner of his accomplishment in winning his rival's most cherished prize.

He almost finds himself relieved that he is not a young man - that he has a modicum of control over his urges, and can resist, at least for a little while, the desire to tear the dress from your ripe body and claim you in a dark corridor before the gala even begins.

You feel proud and so in love with Leto. You truly have adored him your entire life, and once you were of age, your feelings for him began to deepen and mature into more than a childish crush. It was no chore at all to fall in love with him.

Tonight there will be no doubt in your father's mind that you are Atreides.

Your husband will be proud. Your mission is accomplished. And it cost you nothing. Because you have the love and family your father used against you your entire life.

part 3? completely up to you, i could go either way, kinda like the symmetry of this ending

✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧ ˚ · .✧

Leto Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐏*𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: has anyone else noticed how his facial hair is a tad bit lighter? /j

warnings: sexual innuendos, twitter environment, cussing

requested: yes | no

saint’s team radio 🎀: y’all just have fun with this one lol. thank you for the request anon!

tags: @non-stop-imagines @alika-4466 @lorarri @httpsserene @yeea-nah @purplelewlew @goldenalbon

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lewishamilton

liked by spinzbeatinc, zendaya and 2,938,848 others

lewishamilton big difference

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yourusername and you’re wearing the grills 🫦

lewishamilton all for you, sweetie

user I’M GONNA THROW UP THEYRE SO CUTE

mercedesamgf1 should we step out of the room or?

yourusername that would be greatly appreciated

georgerussell mate…😟

carmenmmundt write down notes instead of being petrified

user YOOOO 😭

charles_leclerc wait i don’t get it

yourusername i’ve got a special serum for his beard 🫶🏽

charles_leclerc oh that’s cool! where could i get one?

carlossainz55 mate you don’t want to know

charles_leclerc yes i do 🤨

lewishamilton it’s for me and me only, i’m her seat

charles_leclerc oh! oh 😟

spinzbeatinc you guys are so nasty, GET A ROOM

lewishamilton we’re in a room right now

fencer THAT’S THAT NOISE?

user okay everyone, time to leave these two alone 😃

user she’s so sexy, i’m so jealous

user when will i get a chance? 💔

saint speaks: hope y’all enjoy and i hope it’s not too short! onto the next one 🤭

[kleftiko]

Hi! Idk if your request is opened or not but if it is, I'd like to request a headcanon for Knb if that's alright?

My request is : How would GOM + Kagami react when their s/o walk in on them taking a shower naked and just casually invite themselves taking a shower with the boys?

❦ SHOWER TIME

cw: this is fluff, but language and nudity [ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP]

—kuroko

in a strange turn of events, you end up startling your boyfriend. the bathroom door is slightly open, the sound of running water and slight humming floats through the apartment. you decide that you should probably get clean too as you step into the steamy room. tetsuya doesn’t hear you undressing, or stepping into the shower. it’s only when your cold hands wrap around his waist that he shrieks and spins around—nearly slipping—eyes wide and startled for a split second until he realizes it’s you. then his expression falls into his signature calm smile.

“hi, sweetheart.”

—kagami

you go in the bathroom to pee, and as soon as you make a noise, taiga peers around the curtain with a judgemental look.

“what are you doing?” he asks, shampoo comically in his hair.

you blink. “using the bathroom.”

he sends you a stink eye before closing the curtains and going back to what he was doing. you know he likes his alone time in the shower, but the apartment only had one bathroom, and you like to annoy him (with love). so when you strip down and attempt to join him in the shower you need to wrestle the curtain away from him because he’s using it to cover himself lol.

—murasakibara

he likes when you sit in the bathroom while he showers. you can tell him about your day and he can poke his head out for you to feed him a little snack. it’s not often that you shower with him because the logistics of the shower head and the height difference was always a hassle. until you renovated your shower to a ceiling head, now when he’s finished his himemaru, you can just join him under the water and he can pull you close and prevent you from moving cause “you’re so cute and cuddly, y/n-chin.”

and you stay like that until your body feels like two different temperatures.

—aomine

you enter the bathroom.

“fuck, daiki, it stinks in here.”

“i had to shit, you’re the one that interrupted my shower.”

despite that, you strip down and pull the curtain dramatically to announce that you intend to join him. and this motherfucker is under the water, head tilted back to rinse out his shampoo, eyes looking down at you with a smirk as he says, “just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

so turn the water to cold so he shrieks :)

bonus fem!reader: soapy tits are his weakness. if you ever want anything from him, hop in the shower and ask lol his eyes don’t leave your chest but he’s nodding along to whatever you’re saying. you could ask for a yacht and he’d agree

—kise

doesn’t want to shower without you tbh. he’s usually inviting you to join him, but not in a sexual way. he’s one of those people who blasts music while in the bathroom and likes to perform concerts, so he needs his back up singer. he’ll shampoo his hair into spikes and start screaming punk, it’s your responsibility to play air guitar and ad lib. on the rare occasions that he’s showering by himself and you decide to join him halfway through, his smile is wide, and his introduction goes, “ladies and gentlemen, my backup guitarists!”

—akashi

literally love him. if you open the bathroom door while he’s showering he assumes something is wrong.

“darling? are you alright?” his soft voice just makes you melt, but you assure him that you just want to join him. and he is delighted! in fact, he proposes a bath after you two wash up. he loves having you between his legs, back against his chest while you’re surrounded by bubbles. he’s one of those people that loves non sexual intimacy, so if you turn around and give him a bubble beard, he’ll just watch you with hearts in his eyes.

—midorima

locks the door so you can’t get in. if you’re persistent—knocking, calling his name, etc.—he’ll step out of the shower, towel around his waist, and open the door with an annoyed scowl. you just smile sweetly and hop under the running water. he’s muttering under his breathe at how much of a handful you are, but he’s washing your body carefully and making sure soap doesn’t get in your eyes <3

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (3)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, shitty boyfriend, the reader doesn’t take shit from no one, tension, sexy mobsters, slow burn (kinda), talk about sex, horny mobsters, possessive mobsters

A/N: This is a shorter, interlude chapter. I wanted to go straight for the smut but decided against it because...I'm a tease :)

Indecent Proposal (2)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

In your youth, when you made a scrapbook for your future self, you never imagined ending up despising someone so much that you wished they were dead. It wasn’t in your plans that you end up between two mafia bosses who are about to kill your boyfriend.

“Do you want us to do it fast or slow?” Bucky nuzzles your cheek. He purrs your name, his intentions clear. “Name it, and we will do it.”

“I want him out of my life,” you sniff, and drop your gaze, “but…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be responsible for his death. I can’t live knowing you killed him because of me.”

“Scott Lang will never come back to this town, and you’ll never hear from him,” Steve casually says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to make people disappear. “If you don’t want us to kill him, he’ll live.”

You look away when Steve drags your now ex-boyfriend out of the room. Scott screams your name, begging you to take your words back.  You choke out a sob but don’t stop the mobster. Scott sold you to the mobsters without a second thought.

“He’ll never bug you again.”

“I don’t want him dead,” you lift your gaze to look at Bucky. “For tonight, I want to go home and…” You shake your head. “I can’t just…this is not how this will go. If you want me, you have to earn it. I’m not going to be a breeder.”

“You’re a lady after all,” you can hear the smirk in Bucky’s voice. It’s hard to ignore his piercing blue eyes, and the darkness in them. “I understand that you want to get to know us better before you go on your knees for me.”

You gasp at his crudeness. No man ever talked to you like this. “Maybe I want you to go on your knees for me first. I like me who can lick my pussy good.”

He flashes you a smirk and gives you a wink. You know better than falling for his charms and playfulness. Bucky is still one of the men holding your life in his hands.

“Aw, baby doll. Stevie and I can eat cunt for hours. If you are a good girl,” he says and cups your face with his metal hand, making you gasp, “I’ll let you ride my face one day.”

“Did you get started without me?” Steve walks back inside the room, as you try to find your voice. These men truly know how to make a woman nervous. “Just you know, my beard and face make a perfect throne for you, doll.”

“Stevie, she wants to get to know us before we go down and dirty,” Bucky whispers as runs his thumb over your cheek. The cool metal against your skin is a stark contrast to his fiery gaze. “Do we want to give her the chance to get to know us or do we want to have our way with her right here and now?”

“We are gentlemen, my love,” Steve runs his hand over Bucky’s back, making the mobster shudder. “Maybe she likes to watch.” The blonde flashes you a smile. “What do you say? Do you want to watch me taking Bucky apart? He makes the most beautiful noises for me.”

“I—”  You lick your dry lips. This must be a dream. The most beautiful men you ever saw fight for your attention and want to breed you. Even though you have to admit, that they are both scary as shit you can’t help but feel attracted to these men.

“Stevie don’t overwhelm her,” Bucky tuts. He brings you into his arms, shamelessly roaming your body with his hands. “Hmm…so soft and warm. I will love marking your body as mine.”

“Ours,” the blonde corrects. “We can’t let you go home, doll. You’ll only overthink things. How about you sleep in our guestroom? I promise nothing you don’t want will happen.”

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. If you don’t stand up for yourself tonight, they will rule your life completely. “No,” you confidently say. “I will go home and think about everything happening tonight in the morning.”

“Doll,” Steve warns.

“You are allowed to drive me home, though,” you flash Steve a smile. “Gentlemen always make sure that their date comes home safely. Right?”

“Steve,” Bucky looks at his husband. Steve’s cheek twitches, just like his hands. He had other plans and now you want to go home. “It’s a great opportunity to have a look at her home. We can check on security and stuff.”

“Hmm…no good.” Steve pokes your window with his finger. “I could break into this death trap within two minutes or less.”

“Steve,” Bucky tries to stop his husband from throwing you over his shoulder to run away with you. For months, they have been watching you. Now that they finally got you in their clutches, Steve cannot wait to make you theirs completely. “Be nice.”

“Uh-the landlord just repaired the window, and I got a new lock,” you point out. The men are not convinced. Your small apartment cannot compare with their mansion, you know that. But watching them inspect your home makes you feel uneasy. “I know it’s not much, but it’s mine.”

“No, no, doll,” Steve turns his attention toward you, and away from the lock. “It’s a nice apartment. We know Scott didn’t help you pay for shit.”

“While you are here, we should talk about a few rules,” you try to sound confident. “No talking about Scott. Not now, not ever.”

“Noted, doll,” Bucky calls from inside your bedroom. He got bold and opened your drawer to look at your underwear. “Hmm…silk, cotton…oh…woo-hoo…”

“Hey! That’s…” You gasp as Bucky twirls an open-back lace panty around his finger. “I found the naughty stuff, Stevie. She will look so good wearing these only for us. I bet,” he licks his sinful lips as he throws the panties at his husband, “she’ll look even better wearing these while full of cock.”

“Buck, relax,” Steve laughs as he can see the prominent erection strain against Bucky’s pants. “Y/N wants to take things slow.”

“I want to know if I’m only going to be a body you can use or part of your life. If you want me to carry your child, give me more than dick…”

Tags in reblog.

[juullllssss]

Knightorder 141 x f!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Thank you, for telling me about the original! If you have not read it i really recommend it, it was the inspiration for this. :) btw. if someone could tell me how i can link the first part into the post? that would be really kind.

The Inspiration

The Sound of the Lance on the wood railing brings you back to reality. You shot a glance to your sister, her seeming just as shocked as you.

You stand wringing your hands nervously, looking over the railing you see one of the handsome knights meeting your gaze. His helmet is open, showing his adorable smug grin when you come into view. Without a word be brings the lance closer to you, a plea in his blue eyes that makes it clear what he wants. The flutter in your chest and stomach takes you back, never would you have thought you could feel so much with just one glance. Taking your embroidered handkerchief you carefully tie it around the lower part of his lance.

"It is an honor my lady, will bring me luck today, ey?" With another grin and a amused light in his eyes he brings his horse back to the rest of his unit. The light blue of your handkerchief blending nearly perfect into the color of his lance. It seems like they were already waiting for him, eyes eager for him to get back. But it could also be a trick of your mind.

The rest of the tournament goes by in a blur, not even the chattering of your sister reaching you. The only thing in your eye are the handsome Knight and the rest of his unit. They all prove to be excellent rider, not even getting one scratch will their opponents end up on the dirt ground, some more wounded then other. In the last round it is the turn of the masked knight again. His helmet being as black as the rest of his armour. You should be concerned but you can bring yourself to fear him or find him intimidating. Nobody is surprised when his opponent ends up on the ground, his lance brocken of and probably with a nasty headwound. His victory is declared and you notice how he seems to be searching your gaze. When you look in his direction you can see his piercing stare, dark eyes seemingly trying to get some kind of message across. When the King announces the winner is it one of the knights of the unit. He is a little older then the others, with a beard that seem well taken care of and a smile that makes the ladies around you sigh in adornment.

Your sister nudges you hard in the shoulder, "look i think he is looking over here!" and really his baby blue eyes are crossing your own, his charming smile directed at you as he lifts a hand in greeting. You blink in confusion, luckily your manners dictated that you respond quickly with a nod and smile of your own. At this point you are utterly confused, their intentions escaping you. Why would they pay so much attention to you? Shifting in your seat again you simply let yourself be delusional for a moment. Allowing yourself to think that they try to get your attention, want your amazement at their skills, want to impress you. Do they know you? Do they know what people say about you and your luck in finding a partner?

As you and your family are leaving the festival you can't help but look back a couple of times. Hoping you would see them again. You were able to get their names from the other women around you. You could not really believe that you would meet them again, thinking in your mind that this was just a one time encounter, in which they were simply Gentlemen to a lonely women, with a reputation for being undesirable. But you could not lie to yourself fully, knowing you would probably dream about them, about the 141 Knightorder...

[iloverocks]

I DID IT, HOLLY FUCK I DID IT. Ladies and gentlemen, non-binary and other's genders...NORMAN REEDUS PORTRET BY MEEEE. God it took me soooo long, too long, like two years because im a lazy bum and it was my first time drawing realism (also my tablet is a piece of shit. God i really don't belive i did it and FUCK NORMAN'S FINGERS AND BEARD it was a FUCKING NIGHTMARE to draw it with every little detail but i did it! Im hungry, im tired and im happy, god damn it im so proud of my self

[christinesficrecs]

I love Stiles interacting with the drag queens. Are there stories with more focus on those interactions? Or more memorable moments together? Whether they are in on the supernatural or not.

Maybe these ones.

To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar by FaeryQueen07 | 5.2K | Explicit

It’s the summer before senior year and Stiles is doing just fine. Right up until he gets shitfaced and tells a room full of drag queens that he’s attracted to an alpha werewolf and that oh, yeah, he’s been wondering about whether or not they have knots. It all goes downhill from there, but in a good way.

The Curly Fries Show with Stiles Stilinski by greenleaf | 15.6K

Five times Stiles interviewed celebrities for his popular YouTube show, ‘The Curly Fries Show with Stiles Stilinski’, and one time he was the one interviewed.

A drag queen and a cop walk into an apartment building... by DropsOfAddiction | 16.4K | Explicit

Stiles tries not to whimper as Derek gets closer. Stiles had forgotten just how intense space invader Derek could be.

If Derek was boner inducing when Stiles knew him before, equal parts terrifying and sexy, back at the age of twenty four, well... it’s not a patch on what thirty year old Derek’s got going for him.

Derek’s still got a stupid leather jacket and his black hair is slightly longer than Stiles remembers. The stubble is longer too, not quite a beard but still neatly shaped in a way that makes his cheekbones stand out.

And the eyes, shit, the eyes. He’s staring at Stiles with this stormy mix of grey, blue and about a thousand other colours thrown in and Stiles couldn’t break eye contact if he wanted to.

Derek fucking Hale, ladies and gentlemen.

Dress You Up by sffan | 5K | Explicit

Stiles is spending a lot of time with the queens at The Jungle. He goes out with them on Halloween and bumps into Derek. Sex happens.

Stiles Stilinski: Actual Disney Princess by LadySlytherin | 20.2K | Mature

Halloween + Drag queen friends = Crossdressing!Stiles fic! Throw in a miscast spell that has woodland creatures and our resident weres trailing behind Stiles a-la-fairytale-logic and you’ve got a recipe for disaster...and love.

[gerbfukc]

Crack au with the Dangerous Ladies

Consider this: instead of Ba Sing Se, it is the White Lotus that Azula decides they should infiltrate instead.

This is crack, so evidently this shall involve fake identities, white hair dye, and for reasons, terrifyingly realistic facial hair. Ty Lee opts for a gorgeous mustache look she saw the other day that had fun loops to it while Mai stylizes her specific beard to be an exaggerated version of her father's to indirectly mock him. Azula's look? Iroh's iconic beard of course, to prove that she wears it better than he ever did and ever will.

They do whatever it is that people do to get in the society (play interesting pai sho strategies? complain of war? accidentally take credit for ending an extremely violent skirmish between some bandits and soldiers in sight of an infamous deserter whose name starts with J? who knows!).

After they get in, they get introduced to some members. Only some because most are far away (Pakku, Kanna, Iroh, etc.) and can only send letters. One of the members they meet is the infamous Aunt Wu, who Ty Lee instantly has beef with. Aunt Wu too has beef with this other mystical, uppity newcomer. This, unintentionally, helps reduce any suspicion and animosity against them.

Not that there's much left after the super duper tragic backstory Azula gave to everybody ("Me and my two...partners were found guilty of violating a sacred law of the Fire Nation. So we had to flee from our home with our families turning against us and our friends abandoning our calls for help. It took everything we had to survive. It was difficult, but it was most fortunate that we had one another"). Azula pats herself on the back for being intentionally vague. Sometimes less is more (and other times, it gets everybody else thinking that these three distinguished gentlemen are in a poly relationship). Azula is oblivious to all the implications of her words.

Mai is stunned to find she's having the time of her life here in this undercover mission. No one cares if she's silent or talking or being broody or caustic. Because old people are also equally fucked up in their own ways, so no one really scrutinizes Mai too deeply. Eventually, a couple of members seek her out to ask how she keeps her beard so voluminous and pristine. Mai secretly relishes in this because even her purposefully hideous beard has received far more praise than she's ever heard her father's receive. It is a glorious moment.

[violetmuses]

Don’t Go Screamin’ - R. Reigns🖤

Fandom: WWE 

Character: Roman Reigns

Love Interest: Female Reader

This Idea 💜

@episodes-ff @expert-texpert @persethegawd @adriennegabriella @fearlesschimera @secretlifeoofmarpessa @mytribalnightmare @adoresmiles @blackgurlnhermoods @babybratzmaraj @luvrsluxe 🏷

====

During this special episode of “Smackdown,” timing lined up their annual “Women's Money In Bank Ladder Match” and thousands cheered as the winner raved on screen, grateful to hold this accomplishment. 

In the middle of this deserved celebration, spotlights changed out of nowhere and music switched, thundering beats to cut off everyone. 

“Wait a minute. No! It can’t be.” Commentators scrambled through countless emotions as professionals observed behind the alert table. We’ve heard so many rumors, but it’s finally happening! She’s here. She’s cashing in!” 

Clutching the well-known briefcase, you sprinted down this large ramp and darkened both eyes, ready for war. 

“Take down the winner. Go! You have one chance here. Just go!” Announcers nearly cross-talked over and awaited your possible victory. Even fans yelped back, nearly shrieking in this place. 

“Cover. 1-2-3!” The counting bell rattled out loud and you can’t hear thoughts while falling backwards against this mat. “Holy hell! Meet our new champion, ladies and gentlemen.” 

“I’m here! Who can stop me now?” Standing up once more, you grabbed the championship belt and cheered skyward, feeling invincible.  

“Congratulations to our newest champion! Thank you so much for watching this program. Good night and we’ll return next time.” Announcers pulled one last update to end the broadcast. 

******

For another weekly episode, heroically ominous music pulled various emotions as The Tribal Chief Roman Reigns stood tall, flagged by talented cousins Jimmy and Jey Uso. “Ones” lifted up high as fans elevated greatness on live television. There’s no turning back whatsoever. 

“The Tribal Chief will always exude power..” Announcers welcomed this dynasty with each passing moment. 

Out of nowhere, lighting dropped around the ring and sneaky laughter echoed from shadows with new rhythms, cuing another entrance. 

Once lights brightened again, you appeared ringside in silence, turning everyone’s night upside down. 

“What the hell?” Announcers pulled flabbergasted expressions to heighten this upcoming moment. “Oh my. Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for chaos. She’s back!” 

Sliding into this ring once more, you watched members of The OG Bloodline, noticing when Jimmy and Jey Uso traded glances first. 

Wiseman Paul Heyman covered his mouth in shock, almost terrified that you pulled audacity this evening. 

Soon enough, Tribal Chief Roman Reigns stepped forward, prompting an outright frenzy of screams during this moment. 

Almost towering beyond height, Reigns sported this graphic t-shirt and clothed pants. Sneakers moved along once more. Styling dark hair with a bun, this greying beard welcomed his chiseled face. 

“Be careful, Champ. Roman doesn’t share spotlights.” Commentators pulled their warnings to you again. 

Nearly sizing you up, Roman bit his lip. Even Jimmy and Jey can’t believe what’s going on right now. 

“Before we get to the good stuff, do you even know who I am?” Pulling his Southern accent forward, Reigns almost chuckled through one strong and deep voice. 

“Uh-oh! Our Tribal Chief has spoken. What will you do about it, Champ?” Despite measuring Reigns, commentators still wanted you to help you out and fans offered encouragement. 

“Cat got your tongue, Sweetheart?” Teasing this moment with chances to flirt, Roman went further. 

“Don’t fall for Roman’s charm!” Announcers scrambled once more and thousands of people lost their minds. 

“I saw everything. We saw everything. Gesturing around, Roman still addressed you and this audience cheered even louder. “Last week pulled one of the biggest nights in history.” 

“That’s right. She’s the champion!” Commentary pulled another chance to scope your newest title. 

“Remember that I’m The Tribal Chief.” Roman almost lowered his voice. “Join us.” 

The crowd gasped, waiting for your response. 

“No.” You stood your ground, declining. 

Supportive cheering reached otherworldly decibels. Even when you dropped that microphone down, your music picked back up and spotlights flickered, ending another chapter of this saga. 

*****

“I’lll keep watching her. It was crazy, Uce!” Jimmy Uso huddled with his cell phone and watched your championship match during this new segment. 

“You think Ro likes her?” Jey pulled another question about you and Reigns. Curiosity nagged beyond words. 

“I don’t think so. Flirting’s okay, but Roman acts too selfish.” Jimmy shook his head. 

“Good point. He barely puts up with us.” Jey shrugged, quickly watching your footage once more. 

Moments later, Roman entered the space and welcomed his chance to sit down, joined by Paul Heyman as usual. Fans still cheered through the walls. 

“You good?” Jimmy questioned Reigns. 

“Turn it off.” Roman gestured by Jimmy’s phone. 

Members of the audience booed when Jim’s phone turned silent, but there was no other choice at this time. 

“What’s up?” Jimmy waited. Even his twin brother Jey still looked on. 

“There’s another match. We should go.” Roman faced his cousins, ready to watch your part of the episode tonight. 

“Hold on. No way! We can’t interfere, man.” Jimmy spoke up first. 

“I’m not saying interfere.” Roman corrected his statement. 

“Then what’s going on?” Jimmy scrunched up his face. 

“We just…watch…” Roman almost shrugged. 

“Nah. We run this show, but don’t take the spotlight away from her.” Jimmy looked out for you regardless, especially this time around. 

Jimmy walked off before Roman could respond, closing this segment. 

________

“There it is! Another highlight for the Champ.” Announcers welcomed your ongoing victory streak. “Enjoy your celebration.” 

“She’s here!” Fans pulled your slogan once more. 

“USO!” Upbeat yet almost rattling music spiraled thousands out of nowhere and you immediately glanced over. 

Dynamic pair Jimmy and Jey Uso walked down this ramp. Big-time cheering would turn even louder. 

“What’s wrong?” You questioned your “brothers” when this crowd settled. 

“The Tribal Chief’s looking for you.” Jimmy offered the truth. 

“I won’t join your faction. I’ve already refused.” You declined this chance once more. 

“We’re not talking about The Bloodline.” Jimmy explained further. 

“Roman Reigns?! Where did he come from?” Before you could ask more questions, cheering heightened around the venue as commentators expressed shock. 

Towering his muscular build, Roman locked eye contact with you and shadowed power near edges of the crowd. 

“I’m not asking anymore.” His strong voice woke up everyone. 

Joining this ring, Roman passed that microphone elsewhere and sized you up, walking closer until your bodies almost met. 

His famously brown eyes pierced into your soul. 

“The Tribal Chief could plot so much tonight.” Announcers played up fear. 

“You won’t join our team, but I have another idea…” Reigns didn’t even laugh. 

“What?” You’ve asked. 

“Go out with me.” Roman dropped this bombshell. 

“Oh my goodness! What kind of question is that?” Commentators pulled astonishment right back out. 

“Why didn’t you just ask before?” You laugh. Even Jimmy and Jey listened for Roman’s upcoming answer. 

“Never thought I’d say this, but you make me nervous.” For once, this quick smile would brighten Roman’s face as he offered your compliment. 

The crowd swooned everywhere. 

“Why?” You grinned, waiting. 

“Where should I start, y’all?” Roman turned by the audience while still encouraging your presence. Cheering picked right back up. 

“Be careful! We’re still on live television.” Announcers warned Roman no matter what could happen next. 

“You’re talented, badass, and beautiful. Maybe we could…” Reigns trailed, biting his lip once more. 

“Help the family, then we’ll talk.” You understood that power might fall if Roman didn’t stand true on his word. 

Jimmy and Jey saluted, watching you leave this episode on the greatest cliffhanger of all. 

[woodswallow]

Hallo! I loved your Ramm-fashion related posts and was wondering if you could share your thoughts on some of these outfits🥰 personally I like them or find them interesting:)

Hallo :)

This post was sitting in my inbox for some time, sorry for that! But now I finally come to answer it, I was looking forward to it the whole time :D

First off, thank you so much - so nice to hear you enjoyed the RammFashion-related posts! Now off to the Paul-pictures:

Honestly, this is probably my least favourite outfit from this ask. I'm not a big fan of these military-patterns - in my opinion it's just not cool or fashionable to wear these types of prints in times like these with wars and (military) violence everywhere. I thought differently in my late teens and early twens...but nowadays it just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. So, not a fan of this outfit, although I like the hat, jewellery and of course the fact, that he's layering his clothes again :)

This one is cool and somehow funny at the same time - when I first saw this picture, he reminded me of the Blues Brothers :D But you can never go wrong with all black. The sunglasses and the hat are stylish as hell and I also rally like that coat. Very classy, very cool!

This one's pretty small unfortunately, but I have seldomly seen him in this red-orange colour! The combo of red and black is a classic (his guitar-buddy knows best!), so I really like this longsleeve. I'm also a fan of how often Paul wears hats/beanies and scarfs, just like here. The black pants and the biker boots are very nice as well. All in all: A little surprising outfit, but nice :)

Here as well - nothing fancy, nothing flashy ...but damn, do I like this outfit :D Black hat/beanie (I think), white T-Shirt, big watch, black pants and brown boots. What's not to love about this. Same goes for the black tank top he wore during that Fly Rig interview. I just really like seeing his arms and neck a bit more :) Nice outfit, down to earth, love it!

I really like this picture, him hiking in the woods with that flowering heath. You can see that this is probably not a spontaneous hike, because he's wearing hiking shoes with that black rubber cap protecting the shoe tip from wear and tear. The blue socks are sweet, I'm also someone who likes to wear silly/flashy socks :D His clothes look less fashionable, more functional: The pants being tight around the ankles, the shoes, the socks. In fact I used this picture as an inspiration to my fanfiction "Dreadlocks und Vokuhila".

Yesss - classic rockstar, ladies and gentlemen :D The clothes, the pose, the attitude. All black, leather, heavy boots, silver jewellery. Again, can never go wrong with black, but this time it's the "rockstar"-edition :)

Now this outfit was a surprise. This is a picture from the "Zeit"-release party I think, where the whole band wore white suits. I think the suit sits quite nicely, especially around the shoulders. I think it's so nice that he combined it with this red neckerchief, it gives the outfit a colourful and also quite cheeky touch. Somehow, he looks so different here - I think it's because the white parts of his beard (right and left of his chin) are accentuated here. Quite formal outfit, but with a nice personal (Paul-) touch!

This outfit somehow gives me very cosy and private-Paul-vibes. I personally am not a big fan of this tartan pattern (which is why I didn't go for these looks while searching for my personal RammFashion-items), but he really seems to like it. I think he wore this pullover on several occasions and I think I've also seen another one. It fits him and I really like this particular picture.

One of my favourite Paul-versions! :) Comfortable, but also cool and stylish with leather jacket, beanie and (as I think) his signature-scarf :) Only the Red Bull is really not my taste :D

I'm pretty sure the next two pictures show the same pullover - I LOVE this look!! Again, layered clothes with a shirt underneath, beanie, heavy jewellery. I really was torn between this pullover and that one with the sandy-beige colour...I found a match of both of them on a secondhand clothes website and I decided for the sandy-beige coloured one...but I'm very tempted to buy the match for this one here as well because, again: It fits very nicely but loose, looks cosy and nice but not overly styled...love!

I think these pictures were taken by a fan who met him on Hiddensee - and his outfit indeed does give some holiday-relaxed-summer vibes. Nothing flashy, but white does look good on him :)

Thank you so much @bianca-mii for sending this ask in my direction, I had fun answering it!! :D

Thanks for reading!

[up-the-bracket]

The Killing Time, Unwillingly Mine: Chapter 1 Notes

The first chapter is up! If you haven't read it, I'd recommend doing that before reading this, but there are no spoilers here. I just want to delve a little into the some of the thoughts surrounding the historical I had while writing.

Victorian London was famously dirty, I fear. And incredibly stinky. Lee Jackson writes:

“Thoroughfares were swamped with black mud, composed principally of horse dung, forming a tenacious, glutinous paste; the air was peppered with soot, flakes of filth tumbling to the ground. […] The worst types of filth, solely in terms of volume, were human excrement; mud on the streets; and ‘dust’ (cinders and ash from coal fires)”

This was in part due to a rapidly increasing population (during the 1800s alone London grew from a city with one million inhabitants to six million) and an ever-growing industrialisation. And yes, livestock were kept and slaughtered within the city. Imagine the amount animal waste this produced. Waste production simply multiplied due to the increased production necessary to sustain the urbanisation.

It was pretty hard for the Victorians to reconcile that London was so incredibly filthy – considering the Victorians invented sanitary science. Metropolitan dirt was seen as a harbinger on moral decay; filth implied social disorder and festered immoral habits.

Often when we see Victorian London on TV it’s always high society and pretty. I promise you, even the upper-class ladies and gentlemen had to walk through the muck and mire.

The city of London spent a good deal of the latter half of 1800s dedicated to finding ways to clean its streets.

Source: Dirty Old London: The Victorian Fight Against Filth, by Lee Jackson.

During the 1890s male fashion eased slightly. Coordinating three-piece suits (also called ditto suits) were worn widely throughout society. Shirts were stiffened with starch, sporting high standing collars. Neckwear ranged from cravats and narrow bow ties to ‘modern’ ties. Bushy beards and sideburns fell out of favour and men started sporting close-clipped, short beards (which is why I gave Jayce his beard).

Women's fashion loosened as well. Gone were the big bustles and ultra-stiff stays, Women opted for skirts that fell naturally from the waist but big skirts, leg-o-mutton sleeves, and high-collared shirts were still popular. Women often wore shirts and skirts for day wear, and of course more elaborate evening dresses.

Source: Fashion and Family History: Interpreting How Your Ancestors Dressed, by Jayne Shrimpton

For Lest, I was partially inspired by the clothing of the character Trixie in the TV series Deadwood, which is set in the 1870s – in particular her black-and-white striped socks.

I really dug up my uni notes from four years ago for this:

Love between two men wasn’t illegal, per se. The ’crime of sodomy’ was abolished in 1861 and within the upper-classes at least, there seemed to be a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy when it came to relationships between men.

But really, it was more so an understanding that sex outside of marriage was illegal. All sex outside of marriage was deemed pathological and sick; even the term heterosexual was used for men who had a ‘sickly desire’ for sex without reproductive purposes. Equally, many sex acts we see as ‘normal’ today were seen as unreasonable; oral sex was for example deemed a purely homosexual act. Illegal were acts that were understood as immoral and as a ‘perversion of human nature’; i.e.  the Christian notion that the ‘seed’ (ew) of life should not be wasted.

The 1800s in general was a time where sex and sexuality were being defined and categorised for the first time. Terms like hetero- and homosexual weren’t used as identities either (like we do today); it was used as a way to describe the act of sex. The term homosexuality itself didn’t really come into circulation until 1890. Men who liked men likely described themselves as ‘inverts’ and the term ‘Uranian’ was used and spread by a group of British and American poets who advocated for the naturalness of male companionship and intimate friendship by using various allusions and themes from ancient Greece.

“I am the love that dare not speak it’s name” is from one such poet – Lord Alfred Douglas – and is from his poem Two Loves. Yes, Viktor & Jayce flirt by reciting homoerotic poetry at one another. I don’t make the rules.

If you've read this far: thank you! I hope this was entertaining and a little interesting, as well.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Thoughts on religion in the wizarding world? I'm guessing there would be sects of existing religions as well as their own. Maybe they think their magic is divinely given and muggles are heathens? Or they're supposed to 'enlighten' or 'watch over' the muggles like some angel complex?

there was definitely people worshipping harry potter. And/or voldy like there's already religious overtones why not make it in universe?

Hi 👋,

Kinda mentioned what I think about religion in the wizarding world here and here. since the Statute of Secrecy was introduced so late (1692) it means most wizarding communities would be practicing some magical variant of the local muggle religion. In the case of Britain — that would be Christianity.

The fact wizards are buried in Christian muggle graveyards, that Bill and Fleur's wedding is a Christian wedding with a little magical flare, that they celebrate Christmas, and that they have godparents — are all facts that indicate the UK wizarding world is predominantly Christian.

As for more personal fanatical worship we see with Harry and Voldemort, that's something that could just happen in any community, regardless of whether they are religious or not. Ideologies can become fanatical religious worship of the ideology and its leader even without any religion or gods present, so I don't think it has much to do with it. Completely atheist groups and organizations have become fanatical to the point of religious faith in the past, I don't see why wizards would then be different and need religion/god/gods to worship someone/something.

I think there could be some wizards who believe they are better than muggles due to religious reasons, but we don't really see evidence of that in the UK. The beliefs most Death Eaters spew don't seem to have a religious basis but be more similar to eugenics, considering how much they talk about blood and purity (like the Nazis, who were very anti-religion, btw. Like, I don't know how aware you are, but the Nazi party prosecuted Christians in Germany, they believed the state and its leader should be the religion and not god). It's about blood more than about religion in my opinion.

What I do think is interesting is how certain ancient wizards (like Merlin and the founders) are treated somewhat like religious figures, like saints ("Merlin's beard" and such). So, it kinda makes me want to headcanon Merlin and the founders are considered saints in the Magical Church or whatever it's called. That they have a whole additional set of legends and saints built atop the muggle Christian faith (or any other religion wherever those wizards are).

I wonder if there are wizards in the Vatican? If there really is a strain of Christianity that's like "The Church of Magic" or whatever. I mean, Harry describes there is a wizard priest who presides over Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding. He needed to get this priesthood somewhere.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said a slightly singsong voice, and with a slight shock, Harry saw the same small, tufty-haired wizard who had presided at Dumbledore’s funeral, now standing in front of bill and Fleur.

(DH, 127)

The above "small, tufty-haired wizard" is a wizard priest.

It also means there are wizards of any other muggle religion based on their location with some magical flares added (Jewish wizards, Muslim wizards, Hindu wizards, you name it). Probably different wizarding communities (different countries or areas) have slightly different variations of said religious practices, just like we see with irl semi-secluded cultures. Like, the magical church of France is likely a little different from the magical church of England (I wonder if the magical church of England is Anglican or if it's an older institute and therefore catholic and remained so through Herny VIII's reforms, which happened before the Statute of Secrecy. I assume some wizards are catholic and some are protestant in the UK regardless, again depending on where they are from).

[celtigxr]

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 20 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: The Lord and Lady of Claw Isle return from Dragonstone only to learn of the horrible whispers that are being said about Valeana. King's Landing prepares for Maiden's Day and the Maiden's Day Ball, and Aemond's black heart slowly gains some colour. Word Count: 4242 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Angst

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: Chapter 21 will come earlier than scheduled, since this one is short, and I'm ahead on schedule. So, probably monday?

Bartimos cradled his head in his hands, fingers rubbing the thin skin at his temples in hard, languid circles.

“I have been gone for a sennight,” he said in a pained low tone. “Less than a sennight. And I return… to this.” He gestures around the solar and looks up at everyone in the room with me. “This headache. Fabricated by the hands of my own daughter… That I thought I taught so well.” 

Valeana suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at her father’s dramatics. Instead, she chanced a glance at her brother, but he appeared just as disappointed, if not a little more reserved and intimidating. Clement stood rooted in the center of the solar, broad arms crossed over his chest, lips tight under the fringe of his short beard. He was glaring at the floor, not directly at her at least. 

“We are very, very disappointed in you, my girl,” Ursula spoke from her arm chair. She had been cradling the side of her head on the tips of her fingers, elbow propped on the armrest. When Velaena turned to her, she was shaking her head. 

Heat pooled at her cheeks as she shrunk under the reprimand of the three of them. No one here was on her side. She was sure that Floris likely had her ear planted on the door, drinking in every word like the elixir of life. The mere thought of it pushes Val’s shame aside to make room for irritation.

“There is already court gossip about your conduct. About your virtue,” Ursula cried into her palm. “Valeana, I did not believe you, of all people, are capable of such scandals.” 

“And what are those scandals, exactly?” Val’s patience was growing thin, knowing well enough it was Floris who poured poison into her parents' ears the moment they stepped foot back into the Red Keep. It would fail to surprise her that the court gossip was birthed from her step sister’s very own rancid gullet. 

Her father straightened up, and raised his hand to count each crime with a terribly controlled irate volume. 

“Public drunkenness!”

Fine, Val thought bitterly, I’ll give him that one.

“Coercing two noble ladies into it as well!” 

“Ah, no!” She sat up, “We bonded over drink and it got excessive, father. It was a group effort,” Her eyes shifted over to Clement, who raised an eyebrow at her. “And, honestly, I do not regret it, because it brought me close to two women I’d otherwise never know.”

“So you do not regret being dragged around the bloody castle by Prince Aemond One-Eye, of all damnable people?!” 

Valeana sucked in her lips under her teeth to suppress her groan.

“Multiple guards saw him carrying you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes! My daughter, the drunkard of Claw Isle! What would your dear late mother say about the girl you grew up to be?”

She bit her tongue, I wouldn’t know, father.

With great, great effort, she defended Aemond, “Prince Aemond relieved me from Ser Erryk, who had his hands full with Lady Ellyn and Lady Wylla. He was a perfect…” and she said through her teeth, “Gentlemen. And I…Ugn… regret that I made his efforts difficult to do so.”

Valeana had to mentally convince herself she was defending Aemond to conserve speculation over her virtue. Aemond wasn’t Aegon, he did not have the same reputation of sexual deviances. However, given their history, some may be inclined something untoward might have happened during that night. They were right, of course, but she did not need her parents and Clement to know that. 

Trying to calm himself, Bartimos sighed at length through his nose. He moved over to the back of his wife’s armchair to grip the ends of the backrest to contain his anger. 

“You are lucky… That the Hand of the King handled the whispers, effectively convincing everyone that the lass Aemond was seen with was not you. Which leads me to the next problem. Showing up to Otto Hightower’s family gathering uninvited!”

“I was invited. We were invited, by Prince Aegon,” Valeana gestured to the closed door. “Shyla was with me, and we were not the only intruder that night.”

“Oh!” Bartimos chortled a fake laugh, “Oh yes, Lady Maris. Yes, I heard all about that. Lord Borros relayed to me himself how distraught his daughter was after being insulted in front of the Hand of the King, and his entire bleeding family!”

“I insulted her?!” Valeana’s fingers curled into claws hovering around the side of her cheeks, utterly flabbergasted at this. “She insulted me! She called me frivolous… I merely corrected her stupidity.” 

Ursula rolled her eyes, “Valeana, darling, you are a lady, not a barbarian. As a lady, you take insults on the chin and do not react. If you wish to get back at this Maris, you speak ill of her behind her back like a civilized woman of your age.” 

Valeana shot Clement an exasperated expression, as if to say “are you hearing this?”, and in response he rubbed his fingers in the edges of his eyes. 

“Why was Maris Baratheon there in the first place?” Clement asked, breaking his silence. 

“Aemond invited her, the sod,” Valeana replied bitterly, practically spitting the response, the venom behind those five words not lost to those who heard it. The three looked at her in unison. When she realized, her eyes darted around the room, “What?”

“Veleana–” Clement was about to ask her what they were all thinking – fearing, really. That she still harboured feelings for Aemond Targaryen. But Bartimos did not want to hear the answer, because subconsciously he knew. Even if she said otherwise a hundred times, he knew. 

“Forget Prince One-Eye,” Barty practically barked. “As surprising as it is, he is not my biggest concern.” When her father narrowed his eyes, Valeana felt herself shrink under it. “I have heard some curious whispers about you and Prince Aegon, dove.” 

Clement stared at her with a knit in his brow, “Aegon?” 

Val flushed at the scrutiny of both of the most important men in her life. Her arms that were confidently placed on her hips now swung shyly behind her back. 

“They are not all good whispers,” Bartimos drummed his fingers on the chair, “But because you are my daughter, I will give you your time to enlighten me about what is actually going on.” 

Ursula straightened in her seat. She, like Clement, had no idea about this. “What’s this about you and Prince Aegon?” 

Avoiding the question, Valeana asked, “What did you hear?” 

“I would like to hear your tale before I share with you the ones I have heard,” her father was being calculated, she surmised. He did not want her to think of excuses and lies around what she was being accused of. 

Stalling, Valeana cleared her throat. “Prince Aegon and I… have grown close, though nothing untowards. He has shown interest, and wishes to…court me. And… I am giving him a chance.” 

Bartimos’ shut his eyes before he let his head hang against his chest; Ursula gasped, though it was more like a pleasant surprise, rather than shock. Clement, however, did not take the news well.

“Absolutely not,” Clement strode to close the distance between them, arms firmly over his chest as he towered over his sister, his only full blood. “Aegon is a known whoremonger; he has sired countless bastards with prostitutes all over the Street of Silk.”

Val bit her tongue again, suppressing the urge to accuse him of the same accusation, in Pentos, where bodily pleasures weren’t seen as deplorable as they do in Westeros. 

Clement continued, circling around his sister to get to his father, “He has a vile reputation, one that even his grandsire has difficulty hiding. Not to mention the cruelty he inflicted on not just you, but our sisters, Valeana! Aegon insulted all three of you for the length of your childhood. Father, Aegon is not fit for my sister’s hand, tell her this! Bring some sense to her!” 

Bartimos lifted up his head, the weight of fatherhood weighing on his shoulders and mind as he regarded his first two children. He rested his violet eyes onto Valeana, and asked softly, contradicting the tone he was using earlier. 

“Valeana, your brother has a point… Why would you agree to court a man who teased you relentlessly and ruthlessly as a child?”

“We talked about that,” Val responded, in truth this time. “He apologized for it, sincerely, and… did me a selfless favour to earn my forgiveness. Princess Helaena could vouch for him, father, if that eases your doubts.” 

Clement’s jaw stiffened as he and Bartimos shared a look; the former still heated with disapproval, silently urging his father not to relent. The latter looked conflicted. Finally, the silence was broken by Ursula’s placating hand on her husband’s arm. 

“Dear, mayhaps now is the time to tell her.” 

“Tell me what?” 

Bartimos hesitated before answering, looking between her, his wife, and son. He righted himself, and slowly walked around the armchair, making his way over to Valeana. 

“My dove,” Val’s eyes narrowed at the nickname, for being suspiciously used after the lectures she had to endure seconds ago. “I do not want you to court Prince Aegon.”

“Thank you father! I knew you–” Clement threw his hands in the air, but Barty held up a hand for him to be quiet. 

“Because I already arranged a courtship between you and Jacaerys Valeryon.” 

A chorus of a unified “What?!” rang throughout the room. Not just from Valeana, or Clement, but also from Floris who flew into the room like a bat out of the Seven Hells. 

She was an image of fury as she rushed to the center of the room, leaving the door wide open to expose her co-eavesdroppers, Arthor and Shyla.

“Father, you simply cannot be serious,” her hands clutched her skirts, marching up to meet him almost toe to toe. “Valeana has been nothing but a problem for our family, and you reward her by arranging a bloody courtship with the heir to the bloody Throne?!” 

“Heir to the heir,” Arthor corrected from the sidelines. 

Floris shot him a venomous glare.

“Floris, eavesdropping again?”

Floris ignored her mother, “This will not stand, father. She should be shipped back home for all the grief she has caused me these last few days!”

Valeana scoffed, “Grief. Floris, you have spent the entirety of our stay doing nothing but spreading lies about me! Your own sister!”

At this Bartimos froze in his spot, eyes widely staring at his step daughter, “Is that true, Floris? Are you the reason why I come back to these… Whispers about how your sister has debased herself?” 

Floris’ face went beat red, “They are all true!”

“It does not matter! We could have handled this privately, but you robbed us of that dignity by allowing your jealousy to get the better of you! You are as much at fault for this family’s fallen reputation, not just your sister!”

Bristled and inflamed with outrage, Floris practically vibrated on the spot from her nerves. She turned to Valeana, brown eyes bugging out of her head and fists so tightly wound in her palms, her nails likely bit crescent shapes into the skin. 

Then Valeana stuck out her tongue, and Floris let out a screech of frustration before stomping out of the room, up the stairs that lead to her own bedchamber. She slammed the door so loudly, it was likely heard out in the hall. 

With a growl, Bartimos marched over to the main entrance, pulled it open and snapped his fingers at the two other eavesdroppers that still lingered just outside the main solar, “Out, you two. Go busy yourself with some frivolous distraction.” 

Shyla was the first to shuffle out, minutely glancing at Valeana on her way. Arthor strode through the threshold, not meeting anyone’s gaze. Though once the door slammed shut after him, the corner of his lip curled upward. 

Once it was just the three of them again, Valeana turned to her father. He was back to massaging his temples. 

“Father, I do not want to be betrothed to Jacaerys Valeryon,” Her tone was neutral, testing the waters in case her father might explode again.

“You should be so lucky that I even managed to get his mother to even entertain the idea. He is her heir, Valeana. You could be Queen.”

“I do not wish to be Queen!” Her arms extended outward, “I just want a life of contentment.” 

“And you think you can find that with Aegon?!” Clement asked incredulously.

She ignored him, “Jacaerys was just as cruel to me, Floris and Shyla. He and his brother. And unlike Aegon, he has not apologized for it.”

“My dear,” Ursula finally ascended from her seat and floated over to her husband, grasping his arms so he could look at her. “Barty listen to me. Your daughter has caught the attention of Viserys’ eldest son. A prince of the Realm. And–” she casted a look at Val over her shoulder, “if the other, albeit more subtle gossip has any merit, Prince Aemond as well.”

Bartimos and Clement groaned and scoffed at the same time. 

Valeana buttoned her lips. 

Ursula rolled her eyes, and continued, “I must remind you again why we are here. King Viserys wishes this to be a season of love matches among the Realm, not a means to stroke your ambitions. Nothing is committed, not until the end of the Conclave. Princess Rhaenyra herself even specified she wished to allow her son to make the decision for himself, and we shall do the same for Valeana.” 

“Fine,” Barty relented, to the chagrin of his son. “I will allow you to continue with… with courting Prince Aegon, but there shall be conditions. One, you are not to be alone with him. Be it one of your brothers, sisters, guard, or handmaid, I do not want you alone with him, you understand?”

Valeana nodded, as there was no room to argue. 

“Secondly, you must try with Jacaerys. I do not want to hear anymore protests about it! You would be foolish not to entertain the idea.” 

She ran her hands over her face, knowing that things have gotten more complicated. Now she had to juggle three princes of the Realm, balancing precariously on the possibility of her becoming Queen consort. She will not be popular among the ladies of court, particularly the ones hoping they could claim the attentions of the three princes she currently hoarded. 

Over a moon ago, the only attention a man has ever given her was the stablehand asking if she needed a hand to get on her horse. Now she held the regard of the three most eligible bachelors in the Seven Kingdoms. How in the Seven Hells did her life end up like this? 

While Bartimos, his wife and son arrived at King’s Landing that morning, the King and Queen hadn’t. The raven that did however, explained of their return in two days' time, which signaled for the hasty preparations for Maiden’s Day, and the Maiden’s Day Ball that would follow shortly after the holiday’s tradition. It would be that event that would officially kick off the Royal Conclave, now that all gently bred singletons can mingle in the grand expanse of the Great Hall. 

It was midday, and the Red Keep was surprisingly quiet in the midst of chaotic preparations. Servants were milling through the corridors much more frequently, whilst the city’s guests and castle’s occupants milled through town in search of fabrics, shoes, and other accessories for the events ahead of them. Aemond, Aegon, and Daeron spent a couple hours of the morning being fitted for their attire for Maiden’s Day. Together. 

It was painful. 

Aegon and Aemond’s backs were turned to each other as the tailors measured their legs and shoulders, and with Daeron in the middle, he yapped away about finally getting to see father and mother, and about his morning meal he had with the young Floris Baratheon. 

“She is meeker in person, I must say,” Daeron went on, arms extended as the measuring tape was pulled around his chest. “Beautiful, but not much of a talker. Shyla Celtigar on the other hand,” he made a sound by sucking against his teeth. “Not as beautiful, but she sure knows how to make a man feel wanted.” 

A poorly concealed snort came from Aegon, which reminded Aemond of Shyla’s previous infatuation with him. How lucky he was that Shyla had moved on before Aegon’s intentions with Valeana became known last night at the Hightower dinner. Such a pathetic little ploy, when already Aemond deduced how utterly phony it was.  

“You have kept a long correspondence with Lady Floris, Daeron,” Aemond found himself saying, while the tailor matches tones of white against his colour pallet. “You developed a bond, a friendship that most do not have prior to their wedding day. It would benefit you to remain loyal to young Floris.”

“Ah, but sometimes new is always better,” Aegon quipped. “I saw how much Shyla was on you last night. If Floris does not show that level of attentiveness to you, my baby brother, then mayhaps Shyla is the woman for you.” 

Daeron hummed in thought, then shook his head, “It is still early in these days. Mayhaps my heart’s pendulum will swing differently after the Maiden’s Day Ball.”

One by one the princes departed from their fittings, going their respective ways. Daeron went to go spar in the training yard with their cousins, Aegon likely went to go find his entourage of lickspittles (or whatever the hells he does during the day), and Aemond busied himself in the library, pouring over the last volumes of his family’s lineage. 

Ultimately, he found no evidence of a Celtigar and Targaryen union, not even through the baseborn lineages. With his plan coming up short, Aemond had to think of another means to convince his father to not arrange a betrothal between his children and Bartimos’. Perhaps he can find a credible reason to present to the King on why the Celtigars aren’t worthy enough for them – they freely dilute their Valyrian blood as it is. 

With eyes tired of reading script, Aemond exited the library in pursuit of his chambers to have a meal. Perhaps he may summon Ser Criston to converse with, relaying his ideas and goals in exchange for wisdom and advice. However, the sight of his brother down the corridor caused his stride to falter and his plans were momentarily forgotten. Aegon was sitting on a bench near a dead end, the stained glass of the window in the corner caused a mosaic of colours along the floor. It appeared as if Aegon was in a deep conversation with someone, but the edge of a wall was in the way from this distance. So Aemond crept closer, keeping his form behind a pillar. As he pressed his body against it, he could make out the woman’s hand in Aegon’s, and for a moment a surge of panic shot through him like an arrow… Until the woman leaned in to give Aegon a peck on the cheek, and it was revealed to be none other than Shyla Celtigar. 

Aemond’s muscles relaxed, a subtle smirk played at the end of his mouth as he turned sharply and walked away. That had confirmed all he needed to know. 

Resuming his trek towards his siblings’ shared apartments, he only bounded up the first flight of stairs shortly after his interception with Aegon and Shyla when something else made him stop walking. She was walking slowly against the wall of windows that faced Blackwater Rush beyond the mote and castle. Her delicate fingers moved along the ledges one by one, while the other was being assaulted by the nervous bites of her teeth. 

Valeana was in a deep thought, of what he could not imagine, but it must have been important enough for her to forget her surroundings. She didn’t even hear him stride in her direction. Aemond intended to pass her without an acknowledgement, as if she were just another faceless body in the corridors. That would have been the wisest thing to do, but the fact that she did not even know he was there bothered him. He seeked a reaction from her from his mere presence. He found that he needed it.

“If you are waiting for Aegon, he is otherwise preoccupied with your sister, Shyla,” Aemond spoke, striding past her until he slowed and turned on his heel to face her. 

She wretched her eyes away from the window, blinking rapidly as she was pulled back to earth. When it registered who had interrupted her dissociative reverie, her brow creased in annoyance. 

“Alright,” she shook her head, “Why are you telling me?” 

“I am showing you a courtesy,” Aemond responds, his voice light and neutral. He eyed her, trying to inspect her reaction. “Since you two are courting, and Shyla is your sister, I thought you ought to know.”

Her eyes narrowed at him and then her arms crossed under her chest, incidentally pushing up her bosom. Her cleavage deepened, and his eye immediately dropped to it. 

“Your concern is appreciated, my Prince,” her formality and smirk brought his eye back to her face. The tips of his ears burned as he realized he had been caught staring, but otherwise he remained stoic and impassive. “I will be supping with Aegon this evening, so I will ask him about it then,” she sounded unbothered, which was emphasized by how she leaned back against the wall, her right leg crossing over the left one coolly. “How is Lady Maris? She looked unwell at the end of supper last night, I was worried about her health.” 

Aemond pursed his lips to stop himself from smiling at her sly way of bringing up the absolute evisceration of Maris’ pride at Valeana’s hands the night before. He bowed his head so he could level his eye with her, as short as she was. 

“Lady Maris is doing quite well, she was only tired last night after spending long hours with me prior to supper,” Her eyes narrowed even more at his well placed insinuation. “I was just on my way to join her for afternoon tea, to discuss some matters.”

Aemond caught her throat bob when she swallowed, however subtle as it was. There was a mere two seconds of silence, but it was long enough to be noticeable, long enough to taste the change around her aura. Finally, Valeana hummed in response, and pulled her body off from the wall. For a moment, his body stiffened, believing she was about to close the distance between them to meet him nose-to-nose in challenge. 

Instead she walked around him, “I wish you and Lady Maris well… Have a good rest of your day, Prince Aemond.”

But Aemond wasn’t done with this interaction. He wasn’t done with her. Suddenly overcome with a hunger for her attention, he impulsively turned around before she could get far, his hand moments away from reaching out to grab her wrist to stop her. Only he didn’t. Instead, he asked in a desperate attempt to keep her there with him, even for a minute longer. 

“When did you learn High Valyrian?” When her steps slowed down to a halt, he added, “You did not attend any lessons that I knew of. You would have told me, if you did.” 

Her silence was rather deafening. It irked him that her back stared at him, giving him no window into seeing what she might be thinking… What she might be feeling. Then her head tilts back a bit, almost like she was contemplating if she should indulge him in answering his question. Finally, with slumped shoulders, she turned around, and he was caught off guard by a rueful expression that he has never seen on her before. 

Her mouth opened, wanting to ask why he cared to know, but instead the answer, the real answer tumbled from her lips. 

“I started to learn it the day after my father told me about our betrothal. It was one of the things I wanted to surprise you with; I wanted to say our vows in High Valyrian, in the tradition of our ancestors.” 

The honest admittance caught him completely off guard. It was uncharacteristically melancholy to the new barbed-tongued, belligerent Valeana he thought he understood. If he understood her at all. His jaw slacked, parting his lips, the only reaction of surprise his face would ever allow him to give. His entire body was frozen, however. Frozen and rooted on the spot as the base of his nose burned and a ball of ice formed in his throat. 

The ends of her lips tightened, deepening that rueful smile before she bowed her head and accepted his silence as his only response. 

“Good day, my Prince,” and with that she turned around and walked away from him. 

Aemond watched her, speechless and ashamed of himself. His eye blinked rapidly as the tingle in his nose increased. 

Gods, he inhaled deeply. He’s never seen such sad eyes before.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE SNEAK PEAK “What were you and Shyla speaking about earlier?” She prodded him. Despite her initial uncaring reaction to it, it did bother her For some reason.   Aegon lifted his head, appearing as if he was caught with his hand in the biscuit jar. Then his lips stretched into an impish grin, “Why? Jealous, are we?”

Notes: And just like the Grinch, Aemond's heart grew a little bit. A Christmas Halloween Miracle.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

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Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

[kimoi-00]

✨ WH SHOWMAN AU ✨

LORE/PLOT

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Children of All ages! Come to The Darling and Barnum Circus! Hear the music, Laugh at the clowns, Be thrilled by the perilous leaps of the acrobats, marvel at everything the performers do! "Let Your Imagination Run Wild!"

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It's somewhat same with the plot of The greatest showman, although I have to change a bit of it because of the characters but the gist of it is there.

Instead of P.T Barnum (Aka Wally) being married (like from the original plot), he will inherit the circus from his father who came before him who was the original Ring Master/Owner of the Circus. So it was passed down to him.

Everything start in his childhood, as he sees how his father handles the circus. His other friends are actually the sons and daughters of the original cast ( the original circus performers ) As they all grow up they will be the one managing the circus, once it's their turn and their parents retire as performers.

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Here are the rest of the roles of the members/performers!

Wally Darling as P.T Barnum the Ring Master (Renamed as Wally D. Barnum son of Wallace D. Barnum his father)

(OC)Marie Sincere as Lenny Lind (The Singer)

Julie Joyful and Sally Starlet as the Albino Twins (Renamed as The Cheerful Twins)

Frank Frankly as Anne Wheeler The Trapeze Girl (Renamed as Frank DareDevil the Trapeze Artist)

Eddie Dear as Phillip Carlyle (The Upper Class Boi)

Poppy Partridge as Lettie Lutz The Bearded Lady (Renamed as the Feathered Lady)

Howdy Pillar as Frank Lentini the 3 legged man (Renamed as Howdy Pillar the Multiple Limbed Man)

Barnaby B. Beagle as The Lord of Leeds the Largest Man in the world (Renamed Barnaby the Giant Dog)

(I UPDATED IT! I ADDED MORE DETAILS AND ALSO THE ROLES OF THE OTHER WELCOME HOME CHARACTERS!)