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peonierose · 3 months

Text

Moja Ruža

Book: Crimes of Passion

Pairing: Rose De Luca (F!MC) x Trystan Thorne (M!MC)

Words: 2,5k

Rating: General

TW: None

Summary: Trystan has a surprise in store for Rose on Valentine‘s Day.

A/N: Moja Ruža is a Bosnian term of endearment, and it means ”My Rose“ or even ”Rose of mine“. There will be other mentions of Bosnian culture so I hope you give this story a try.

Side note: I added some social media edits and some edits for cocktails inspired by this story. I am by no means a cocktail expert, so please let me know if you try any of the cocktails and if they’re good 🥰

Trystan

What do buy for a woman you love and for a woman who’s not exactly a Valentine‘s Day type of woman?

You go and ask her friends and colleagues for advice.

”Luke. How’s it going? I brought you some coffee and a cherry Danish.“

I placed a steaming cup of coffee and a freshly baked cherry Danish on his table.

Luke eyes both those things, before he looked at me. I smiled back innocently as if I had no care in the world.

”Yeah that innocent act isn’t going to work. What do you want?“ Luke asked as he bit into his cherry Danish.

”Well if you’re calling me out like that, I need a favor. It’s for Rose. As you know Valentine‘s Day is coming up and I wanted to plan something romantic for Rose.“

”Then go and do that.“ Luke shrugged.

”Well I don’t know what she likes or doesn’t like.“ I said pleading.

”Well then go and ask her.“

”I know I should’ve asked Ruby.“ I muttered.

”Asked me what?“ Ruby‘s voice came from behind me.

I turned as the door to the office opened and Ruby walked in. She was in her lab coat, her dark skin glowed beautifully in the dim light. Luke is a lucky guy to have found Ruby.

”Great, let's get everyone involved.“ Luke groaned and I sighed.

”Well I was asking Luke for some advice,“ I admitted.

”You thought asking Luke was a smart idea?“ Ruby asked while she chewed on a bite of cherry danish.

”Come on. I can be romantic.“ Luke exclaimed.

”Really? Remember last year on Valentine‘s Day?“ Ruby asked.

”That tech expo was fun, and we had some amazing dinner afterward.“

”You’re right, dinner was great.“ Ruby smiled and kissed his cheek, making Luke blush fiercely.

”You want some real advice?“ Ruby turned to me and asked.

”Desperately.“ I said and Ruby laughed. Luke turned to me and snickered, Ruby moved his head and turned it towards his computer screen shutting him up in turn.

I tried to hide my grin but failed.

”Look Trystan we both know that Rose isn’t into big romantic gestures. She loves romance, but that doesn’t mean she’d enjoy a romantic 12-course meal at some fancy restaurant. You know Rose. I’m sure you’ll find the perfect Valentine‘s Day gift or activity for her.“

I kissed Ruby on her cheek.

”You’re a lifesaver Ruby thank you.“

”Hey I helped too.“ Luke chimes in. I grinned and shook my head at him.

”You really didn’t. Enjoy your cherry danish.“ I said and noticed the cherry danish was eaten by Ruby.

”Oh man, my bribe.“ Luke said, getting sad eyes.

”Lucky for you. I brought another one.“ I said and handed him the Danish.

”You’re the man.“ Luke said and bit into his cherry Danish, a blissful look crossed his face.

I waves and left them in the office to go and plan a date for Rose.

My mind was made up, as I walked with purpose to the bar owned and operated by Rose‘s uncle Tommy.

As I entered the bar a few stragglers and regulars looked up from their drinks. When they noticed it’s just another bargoer, they returned to their drinks and conversations.

Tommy was wiping down the mahogany bar counter and he looked up when I entered and took a seat at the bar.

”Trystan what brings you by?“ He asked while he pulled out his top-shelf whiskey.

”Oh I’m not here for a drink.“ I said and Tommy placed the bottle back onto the shelf.

”Is the world ending?“ Tommy chuckled.

I grinned as I played with a wooden coaster.

”I truly hope not. Listen, I'm actually here to ask you for a favor.“ I said.

”Alright.“

”Valentine‘s Day is tomorrow and I was wondering if I could rent your bar for the night? I’ve been racking my brain about what to do for Rose and I thought something nice and intimate would be a good idea. So what do you say?“ I bit my lip, unsure if Rose‘s uncle will agree.

”Look, I'll set everything up. You don’t need to do anything,“ I tried to sell the idea even harder to Tommy.

”Trystan.“ Tommy said and I closed my mouth with a snap.

”Listen Trystan, Rose is my niece and I want her to be happy, and you make her happy. So you can have the bar for as long as you need.“ He said and smiled at me.

I leaned over the counter and gave him a kiss on his cheek, Tommy winced.

”Alright, enough with the gratitude. A simple thank you is enough.“ He put his right hand on his cheek and wiped away my cheek kiss.

”Oh, my dear Tommy. I don’t do simple. Mile grazie Tommy.“

”Yeah. Yeah.“ He grinned and I waved goodbye as I raced home to prepare everything.

Rose

God. I’m bone tired. Every case is difficult, but this one was hard on so many levels. I am so glad to finally be home.

Telling a woman her husband is cheating and bringing proof? Yeah, it’s heartbreaking.

Ms. Bukowski hired me two weeks ago because she had a hunch about her husband being unfaithful. We both wanted it to not be true, but sadly it was.

Now Mrs. Bukowski filed a divorce and is moving to her sister in New Jersey. Maybe a change of scenery and the company of her loved ones will help her to soothe some of the aches and pain.

I put the key into the lock and after a few turns I entered the apartment I shared with Trystan. The lights were out, and only the busy street lights of downtown New York shone into the apartment. Casting a bronze and golden glow.

I put my keys on the small dresser by the front door.

I walked further inside, and saw there’s a light pink envelope sitting on the kitchen table.

I turned it around and it said, »Otvori me« in Bosnian, then I saw an arrow pointing to turn the envelope around and I saw the English translation »Open me«.

I sighed and looked around the apartment we share.

”Trystan? This isn’t funny. If you are playing some weird cat-and-mouse game or hide-and-seek? It’s not funny.“

I noticed I’m alone at home. I pulled out my phone and speed-dialed Trystan’s number.

His deep timbre greeted me.

”Why hello Rosa. I assume you’re on your way?“ Trystan asked me.

I could hear glasses clink and wondered what he prepared this time.

”I found the letter just now.“ I said.

”Alright then I’ll let you read the letter and then you can call me back.“

With those words, he disconnected the call and I stared at my phone in disbelief.

”Alright I’ll read the letter.“ I sighed as I read the letter inside the envelope.

All it has is an address. An address I know very well. It’s the address to my uncle Tommy’s bar.

Then I read on.

»P.S. Wear the dress and shoes. You’ll find the outfit in our bedroom.«

Note in hand I followed the instructions only to find a light pink box on our bed, it’s the same color as the envelope.

When I opened the box I found a red satin dress. With spaghetti straps and a leg slit. As well as black strappy heels.

I sighed and smiled. This must’ve been Marguerite’s work. Trystan’s sister is a genius when it comes to fashion.

I’m not exactly the type for heels but I’ll wear them for tonight and only for Trystan.

As I hugged the dress I smiled because Trystan can always make me smile even on a bad day.

I took a quick shower in the adjoining bathroom. Put on the dress Trystan chose for me, the shoes, and some light make-up.

Deciding to leave my shoulder-length dark brown hair open and free. I put on some spritzers of my favorite perfume ”Black Opium“ and I’m ready to go. I give Trystan a call as I’m about to exit the building.

”I take it you’re ready Rosa?“

I smiled at the warmth in his tone.

”Yes I’m ready to go and I’ll be there in a bit.“

”Alright Rosa. I’ll be waiting.“ We hang up and I‘m on my way to see Trystan’s surprise.

Trystan

I put my phone on the counter and I got everything ready.

From the food, to the special cocktails, I’m going to mix. I figured I’d just make us a special drink.

I wanted tonight to be special, not because it’s Valentine’s Day, but because I wanted us to have a nice dinner and drinks. Without other people being there.

We’re not big on romance but from time to time we need to relax too.

I’m about to set the table when I hear the door opening and turn around.

And it’s like the first time we met. Rose still makes my heart beat faster and simply takes my breath away.

It’s the simplicity that drew me in. I walked closer to her.

”You look stunning, Rosa.“ I have started using that nickname and it stuck.

She smiled at me, her hazel eyes imbued with hints of green are lit from within with joy and I smiled back at her.

”Well you chose well. Give Marguerite my thanks.“

”What makes you think Marguerite had anything to do with choosing the dress? Maybe I chose it myself.“ I smirked.

”And did you?“ She asked as I scooted the chair back and she sat down.

”Well fine. Marguerite did help me. But I knew you’d look good in red which you do.“ I said.

”Thank you. So what’s all this? What are we celebrating?“ She asked as she discarded her coat and put it on an empty chair. Meanwhile, I went to the bar to get the food.

”Well I thought it would be nice if we had dinner. Just the two of us, and not just because it’s Valentine‘s Day. I thought something intimate would do the trick. I tried writing a poem but I suck at poems. I just couldn’t find the right words so that it actually rhymed.“ I admitted a flush of embarrassment staining my cheeks.

”That’s okay, I don’t need fancy poems or gestures. I just need you. That’s all.“ She smiled softly at me and I can see the sincerity in her eyes.

I smiled as I brought over two plates and cutlery.

Then I put down a pot of ”Bosanksi lonac“ it’s a slow-cooking Bosnian stew. It’s a hearty dish. Using beef, various vegetables among some of the main ingredients. And of course some freshly baked bread to dip into the stew.

”Oh my god this smells incredible.“ She closed her eyes and a look of pure bliss crossed her soft features.

”Wait until you try it.“ I said and put some on her plate.

We both dug in. And talked here and there in between the meals.

”I can’t remember the last time I’ve had such a good meal.“

I grinned, proud I made it. Well, I called the kitchen staff in Drakovia, and our head chef ”Alana“ guided me through the steps of making it.

But still, I made it myself. It’s my go-to dish for when I need something warm and nostalgic. Today I got to share it with Rose. Nothing beats that.

”I do have one more surprise.“ I said as I cleaned the dishes away.

”What else could there be?“ Rose asked and wanted to help me with the dishes but I waved her away.

”I made us some cocktails. Or well I gathered ingredients to make us some cocktails.“

She grinned and leaned on the bar counter.

”Really? This I got to see.“

I grinned and gathered all the ingredients to make it. Jasmine and rose gin, raspberry syrup, elderflower and rose tonic water, a dash of pink pepper and some rose petals for garnish

”It’s called ”Kiss from a Rose“. It has jasmine and rose gin, raspberry syrup, elderflower and rose tonic water, a dash of pink pepper and some rose petals for garnish.“ I said and Rose grinned widely at me.

I mixed everything up, shook it and poured it into coupe glasses.I handed her one glass and she took a sip.

”And?“ My voice had an impatient clip to it.

”Mhh. This is actually really good. It has a kick to it because of the pink pepper, but the sugarcane sugar cuts away some of the spice. It’s really nice. And you made this for me?“

I nodded and she smiled.

”Alright then let me return the favor.“

I put my head to the side not following her words.

”What do you mean?“

”Let me make you a cocktail?“ She said and I moved to the side.

”You know how to make cocktails?“

”Move over. And yes I do know how to make cocktails.“

I watched her take some ingredients, add liquor, mix it all up, and serve it up to me.

”Enjoy your cocktail.“

”Oh this looks nice. What’s the name of the cocktail?“ I stared at the drink.

”It’s called ”The Thorne.“ Rose grinned.

”My heart melts knowing you named a cocktail after me. Also since when do you know how to mix up cocktails? Do you have secret talents I know nothing about?“

”Really Trystan? My uncle owns this bar. But to answer your question it was usually when I was high-strung working a case. I found when I was stuck with a case, I tried mixing cocktails or baking. One of those two. It was helping me focus on something else besides the case I was working on.“ She leaned on the counter as I take another sip and finish up the drink.

”Just be warned I’ve had a lot of alcohol in my life. So I have high expectations.“

”No? Really? Drink up, Thorne.“ Her eyes went wide before they returned to their normal size.

”I love it when you boss me around.“ I gave her a kiss on her cheek.

”Stop stalling and drink the damn cocktail.“ She laughed.

I took a sip and I’m pleasantly surprised. Hints of orange add a nice contrast to the sharpness of the liquor. I’m guessing a smoky whiskey.

I put the glass down and looked at Rose.

”And?“ She asked.

”A little impatient are we? Let me savor the taste.“

”You’re impossible. Just tell me.“ Rose groaned, making me smile even wider.

I leaned over to her and kissed her deeply.

”I take that as a good sign?“ She says, biting her lip nervously. Wondering if I’ll like it.

”Oh yes. It packs quite a punch, but there are subtle notes that make me go back for more, like orange and something else I can’t name.“

”It’s cinnamon. And it’s just like you. You always make me want you more. So I’m glad the drink could represent that.“

”You know we could combine our cocktails. They’re both excellent.“

Rose grinned and pulled me closer for another kiss. Until we’re both chest to chest. Our hearts are beating in sync.

”Or we could combine one. And call it Thorns and Roses.“ She suggested.

I smiled against her soft lips.

”I just hope the cocktail will taste good if we combine it.“

“Oh, it will. Trust me.“ She put her hands against my chest and we reveled in the glow of our love.

They both grinned at each other. I extended my hand to Rose.

”May I have this dance?“

”There’s no music.“

I clicked on a button on my phone, and suddenly the first notes of Nora Jones ’ live song »Sunrise« play softly in the background.

”You put on my favorite song.“ She sighed as she took my hand and we slowly danced together in the dim light, while enclosed in our pink bubble of love and serenity.

Bonus:

#Moja Ruža #Rose De Luca (F!MC) x Trystan Thorne (M!MC)#Crimes of Passion #Valentine‘s Day #CFWC

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aces-and-angels · 28 days

Text

Title: Not My Birthday

A/N: what the hell is up, gang? i've been dying to share this one with y'all for weeks and now it's finally here 🎊🎊🎊 please enjoy the thing that's been plaguing my very being for hours on end 🖤 @choicesficwriterscreations

p.s. a big thank you to @noesapphic for helping me out with some of the spanish dialogue

Characters: Xiomara Calloway (oc: @a-cloud-for-dreams), Ryan Cortazar, Amalia de León (oc: @itlivesproject), Beau McGraw, Enid Mendoza, Cameron Rose, Tommy Rose, Gigi Sinclair, Martin Vanderweil, Wind Velez (oc: @oh-so-youre-a-nerd)

Pairing(s): Martin x Wind (not yet official), Gigi x Xiomara

Summary: Set sometime before Magnus gets hired; Wind does their best to get through another birthday.

Content Warning(s): brief mention of blood, language, childhood trauma

Word Count: 3.9K

read below cut or...

AO3 LINK

---

McGraw Byrne, morning…

It’s just a day. A set of numbers written in the margin. Zero three zero two. Yet Wind’s calendar remains flipped to February, its page marked with thick black lines crossing off each date. What they’d give to be able to take a sharpie to the day and scribble it out entirely. But they can’t- not for another 14 hours and 32 minutes. Not like they’re counting or anything.

Amalia saves them first.

“Mx. Velez, I know you’re busy with that case for Landon, but can you-”

“Yes,” they say all too quickly.

Amalia blinks, perplexed by their eagerness. “You don’t even know what I’m about to ask for yet.”

“Does that matter? You know I’d do anything for one of my favorite paralegals.” Their desperate need for distraction aside, the sentiment was sincere. Without Amalia, completing any case would be nearly impossible.

“Wasn’t fishing for compliments, but I’ll take it,” she breathes with a hint of a smirk tugging at her lip. “Hopefully, you’ll still hold that sentiment after this conversation.”

“Pretty sure I will. What can I help you with?”

“It’s a bit… Es una tontería, de verdad,” she warns, absently toying with the hem of her wine red blazer.

Noticing her nerves, Wind pushes their notebook aside. “Amalia, no te preocupes, puedes decirme lo que pasa.”

The warmth and reassurance in their tone do something to soothe her nerves, as her hand noticeably stills. “Mr. Vanderweil tasked me with redacting these documents yesterday. Simple, right?”

They nod along to her story. “I’d say so.”

“I thought so too, but then I had an issue with loading the PDFs on my computer, so I…” she pauses, sucking in a breath. “I took an alternative approach.”

“What kind of approach?”

“Converting all the files to Word docs so I could highlight all the info in black instead of contacting IT like I should have.” Her words fly out of her mouth faster than she can speak, jumbling into a mess of syllables they barely manage to catch. But they do- and oh, how their stomach plummets to the floor.

Panic cracks through the otherwise calm demeanor they’ve maintained thus far. “Amalia-”

“I know- I know,” she laments, rushing up to the foot of their desk. “Ryan already told me how wrong that was half an hour ago, which is why I haven’t uploaded anything yet.”

“Oh, thank God,” they sigh, visibly slumping into their chair. “This’ll be easy to fix then.”

“Except it won’t be because Mr. Vanderweil wanted this done before the partner meeting, and he’ll definitely chew me out when he learns that it isn’t.” Whatever nerves were kept at bay came rushing back in full force. Amalia began pacing, her heels scuffing up the floors beneath her with every anxious step. “This is the easiest thing to do, and I found a way to mess it up. It’s no question- I’m gonna get fired. And what respectable law school is going to accept someone who can’t even-”

Wind jumps from their seat to block her path. Their hands fly to her shoulders, stopping her in place with a firm grip. “Amalia,” they say gently, careful not to agitate her any further. Her dark brown eyes dart around the room, desperate to cling onto something- anything. Wind squeezes her once, steadying her frenzied gaze at them. “Inhala. Exhala.” So that’s what they do. They breathe.

In and out.

Inhala. Exhala.

Eventually, the dust settles and Wind’s arms fall back to their sides. “Better?”

She nods. “Better.”

“Good. Now, how much work do you have left?”

“I managed to fix around half of what Mr. Vanderweil sent me, but there’s still over a hundred pages left to deal with.”

The wheels in their head spin, formulating a plan. “Okay- here's what we'll do. Forward the files to me. I'll take the first 50 or so, you get the rest. Can Ryan pitch in? That would really speed things up.”

“He’s tied up with logging discovery for Ms. Tanaka. That’s why I came to you,” she grimaces.

“That's fine. We’ll manage on our own.”

“Are you sure? Even with help, it'll take some time.”

The honest answer was that they weren’t. Meetings at McGraw Byrne are notorious for being pushed up at the drop of a hat. There’s no guarantee Martin wouldn’t decide to do just that; he certainly flaunted his authority to do so around the office enough. But Wind knew one thing: they can’t cross today out, but they can redact a few dozen documents. And that was enough. “Positive. Hand the files over- we've got work to do.”

—

It’s a tricky thing- pretending to be fine. Until it isn’t. Their smile is a reflex. Their lies, sweet little things, mask the bitter truth buried deep inside them. It’s almost scary how easy it’s become.

Almost.

Gigi nearly crushes them next.

It starts with a playful hip check by the break room counter. Nothing more than a soft bump that Wind returns as a greeting. “You avoiding me, Velez?”

“Of course not,” they reply automatically. Not on purpose.

“Then why is this the first time I've seen you all day?”

The corners of Wind’s mouth pull upwards. “You’re exaggerating. Our offices are across from each other, glass windows and all.”

Gigi scoffs, a fond yet exasperated look on her face. “You know what I mean. How much work did Martin stick you with?”

Actually, he didn't. I asked for more. And I would've stayed in my office, but I physically can’t ignore the gurgling in my stomach with paperwork anymore. “Not much, really. Guess it’s just been one of those days.” There’s a part of them- the smallest, stupidest part- that wishes she, or anyone, could see through their cheery disposition. Lift the mask they’ve clutched onto for years.

It’s a hollow victory when she doesn’t.

“Tell me about it. Linda roped me into working on this painfully boring property dispute,” she complains.

“Think of it this way: maybe the land is haunted.” They wiggle their fingers spookily, throwing in a few ‘oo’s and ah’s’ for good measure.

“That would explain the urge to blow my brains out anytime I redraft these contracts.”

“Poor little Millie. She’s just trying to protect her property from the grave.”

Gigi stifles a laugh. “Millie?”

“Judging me only angers her spirit,” they retort, their own bout of laughter bubbling to the surface. A moment of silence passes between them before they both lose their resolve, dissolving into a fit of giggles.

“Whew, I needed that,” Gigi says, still chuckling.

They take a bow. “I’ll be here all week.”

“Perfect- just enough time for you to join me for lunch.”

“You’re shameless.” Despite their light ribbing, they still take a seat at the nearest table and begin to unpack their own lunch. A small break can’t hurt, right?

“I just prefer to have some entertainment with my lasagna,” she corrects in a light, teasing voice.

“You made lasagna?”

“Xo made lasagna. She's been cooking a lot more since her show wrapped.” The glow on her face at the mere mention of her wife is undeniable.

“Seems like you’re enjoying a lot more than her cooking lately,” they grin suggestively.

Her daze sharpens into a challenging glint in her eye, her smirk unwavering. “So what if I am?”

They raise their hands in surrender. “Then good for you, boo.”

“Mm, that’s what I thought,” she hums triumphantly as she walks over to the fridge. “Seriously, you’ve got to try some. It’s- oh damn it.”

“What is it?”

Gigi pulls out a large pink box and sets it on the table, slightly miffed. “Beau’s leftover birthday cake knocked over my containers. I told him no one but him likes coconut.”

Wind’s pulse quickened. It’s fine. You’re fine. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“How would you know? You couldn’t eat any because you’re allergic to coconut.”

They shrug. “It looked pretty.”

“Last time I let a man plan an event. I don’t care if it’s his birthday,” she mutters, more to herself than at them- too occupied with reconstructing her toppled lasagna with a pair of plastic forks. Wind turns their attention to their own lunch, a heaping portion of arroz con pollo, hoping to swallow down their bout of birthday-induced anxiety with each savory bite. It almost works.

They’re mid-bite when Gigi unknowingly moves in for the kill.

“I’ve decided,” she announces, sliding into the seat across from them.

“Hm?” It’s all they can manage to say with a mouthful of rice.

“I’m putting myself in charge of all birthday parties at the firm from here on out. Who better to plan a party than a party-lover like moi?” She cuts a piece of her lasagna with the side of her fork, still talking animatedly. “Ooh, I can start a group chat to organize any after-work festivities-”

“Mhm,” they hum along, trying to ignore the lump forming in their throat. It’s fine. You’re fine. Their eyes fixate on the grains of rice stuck to their spoon. Three on the front. Two on the back. Three on the front. Two on the back. Three on-

“Wind? You still with me, boo?”

Their head snaps up, only realizing now that they had tuned out their friend. “Sorry- can you repeat that? I zoned out.”

Another smile. Another lie. But it’s enough.

“I asked what kind of cake you like,” Gigi repeats.

“Oh- uh… I’m fine with anything, really. As long as it’s not coconut for obvious reasons.”

“C’mon, everyone has a favorite. Lemmie guess, you’re a cheesecake girl, aren’t you? No wait- red velvet.”

They force out a chuckle. “You got me. I love a good red velvet.”

Gigi’s eyes narrow, assessing them like she would a witness on trial. “You’re just being nice, aren’t you?”

“I-I’m not! I really love red velvet,” they reassure her, but to no avail. She only shakes her head, leaning back into her chair.

“I’ll figure you out eventually, Velez. Cake preference is a science. And I just so happen to be a mad scientist.”

“You really don’t have to put that much effort into this, Gi.”

“The hell I don’t! There’s no way I’m going to plan a subpar birthday party for one of my best friends. When is your birthday anyways? Before you judge me for not knowing, I did try. I just couldn’t find it listed on any of your socials.”

Her determination in any other context would flood their chest with a friendly warmth. But now it pierces through their ribcage, sending their heart into an unwanted frenzy- its beat pounding in their ears.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

It’s fine. You’re-

It’s-

They stand abruptly, the chair behind them screeching against the floorboards. “I need to go.”

Gigi glances down, concern etching onto her features. “But you’ve barely eaten anything.”

“There’s a call I’m expecting from one of my clients. Can’t miss it,” they explain, hastily packing away their food. “Let’s catch up later, yeah?”

Another smile. Another lie. But this time, they don’t stick around long enough to know if it’s enough.

—

Calm. They need to stay calm. Yet the air grows thinner and thinner until Wind is gasping, pulling at their collar in a feeble attempt to ease the tightness coiling around their throat. Everything is too loud. Too bright. Too exposed.

On their first day at McGraw Byrne, Wind marveled at the grandness of it all. How its name glimmered as rays of golden light shone through the floor to ceiling windows, hitting the platinum just right. How every hallway felt like a brand new world waiting to be explored. But now? Now there is no glimmer. No hallways left to be discovered. Only a crushing weight resting atop their chest.

Forget calm. They need to hide.

Wind shuts the door behind them, then the blinds to their windows. It’s a small shield, so they strengthen their armor. Soft, pillowy cushions cover their ears, silencing the wars raging outside. A dark quiet descends over them. Not quite calm, but numb. Numb lets them breathe. Slow their tired, weary heart from running rampant. Here, underneath a cherry wood desk, they can rest.

—

The thing about a closed door is that it can always be opened.

So Martin does just that.

He strides in without any warning, preoccupied with typing out a quick response to yet another email, all while hoping to find a certain report waiting in his inbox. “Velez, I need an update on Landon.” Three more notifications- nothing of any true significance, but it gains his attention nonetheless.

Eyes glued to the screen, Martin doesn’t register the empty office chair in front of him. “I don’t have all day,” he huffs out, already bracing himself for whatever teasing remark Wind has in store for him. But none come. To his surprise, instead of a toothy grin, he sees a pair of pink heels carelessly kicked off to the side.

Martin pockets his phone and takes a cautious step forward. “Velez?”

A pitiful sniffle, amplified by the stillness of the room, hits his ears, freezing him in place. Part of him weighs the merits behind turning around. Then he hears it again- that sorrowful hitch in Wind’s breath- and before he even realizes it, he is by their side.

Months of working alongside each other allowed Martin to experience the many sides of Wind. Infuriatingly righteous. Overly-energetic. Perplexingly kind. Wind got under his skin- crept inside and made it impossible to stay away. None of that prepared him to witness them like this- curled up underneath their desk, unwilling to even look at him.

At a loss, he simply asks, “What are you doing down there?”

A few harrowing seconds pass before they mumble a reply. “Hiding.”

“From whom?”

“Just… from today.”

Martin hums in acknowledgement, unsure how to take that answer. “How long have you been hiding?” They give a weak shrug. “Can you at least tell me why?” He waits, more than he should’ve, then sighs. “Go home, Velez.”

Wind snaps their head up. “W-what?”

“I said go home.”

“Y-you… you can’t do that!”

“I can and I am. Clearly, you’re incapable of-”

“-I’m plenty capable-”

“-You’re under a table.” He chooses not to mention the redness in their eyes or how they shine with unshed tears.

“I- I can…” Wind sputters, their voice no higher than a whisper, “I can do it.”

“I’d have an easier time believing that if you weren’t mid-cower.”

“I’m not-” Martin cocks his eyebrow, effectively killing their argument. “This isn’t any of your concern. So just leave me be.”

“Not my concern?” he scoffs, almost in disbelief. “As your supervisor, I’d have to firmly disagree. I’m responsible for your successes and your screw ups. And I work very hard to mitigate the latter. So, I’m asking you again. What’s this about?”

“It’s… personal.” Martin folds his arms, indicating them to elaborate. But much to his dismay, they don’t. He peers down at them, searching for something. The infuriatingly righteous. The overly-energetic. The perplexingly kind. Something he can work with. It’s surprisingly disappointing when his search comes up as empty as Wind’s chair.

“Send whatever you have on Landon to Aislinn. She’ll be taking point for the remainder of this case.”

“But-”

“Save your breath, Velez. You can sort out whatever it is you’re dealing with now or never. I don’t care. You just can’t be here.”

—

Wind trods through the city past several storefronts and food carts, crestfallen. Their aimless journey eventually leads them to a random dive bar- the perfect location to get good and drunk. Its unassuming exterior paled in comparison to its rich interior. Spacious, yet cozy.

An unoccupied podium greets them at the entrance. “Hello?” Their voice travels beyond the stacked chairs and strings of exposed lightbulbs casting a golden glow over the room. A few minutes go by before they try calling out again. “Hi, are y’all open?”

They venture further inside, ignoring the big, bold letters indicating patrons to ‘please wait to be seated.’ A plethora of memories line its walls. Polaroids of patrons captured in various states of inebriation- all in good fun, they figure. Along with those are news clippings throughout the years, most of which feature the NYPD in some capacity.

“I bought every copy of that issue.” Wind yelps, coming face to face with an older man. The faint lines on his bronze skin deepen as his face stretches into a friendly smile. He points at one of the officers pictured. “This one’s my niece, Cameron.”

They take a closer look at the photo. Despite its grainy quality, Wind can see the resemblance between the two. Same brown eyes. Same round nose. Her skin, however, is about three shades darker than her uncle’s. Youthful. “She looks beautiful.”

“I like to think so,” he says, pride beaming from his features. “She’s always begging me to take this one down, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Ya only graduate from the academy once, y’know?”

They nod politely. “Sorry for walkin’ in like this.”

“The sign’s flipped to open, even if we don’t look like it,” he chuckles. “Grab a seat, I’ll be right with ya.” Wind slides into an empty bar stool while he makes his way behind the counter. After rummaging through a few drawers, he pulls out a menu. “Ha! I knew I kept a few back here.”

“Thank you.” They skim through the appetizers, not retaining much.

“I promise, if ya catch us during our peak hours, we’re more lively. Anyways, welcome to The Drunk Tank. I’m Tommy- owner, bartender, and your server for today. Most of our food items won’t be available till our cook arrives, but I can try to whip up something simple if you’d like.”

“That’s alright. I only came in for a drink.”

“Perfect. What’s your poison?”

“Whatever’s strongest. Neat,” they answer flatly.

Understanding flashes through Tommy’s face. He works with silent precision, pouring a long stream of amber liquor into a glass. “Here ya go. Spirits to lift the spirit.”

Wind raises their drink to him before throwing it back in one gulp. The burn is immediate, slithering down to their chest and warming them from within. “Hah,” they wince, wiping the stray droplets from their chin. “I’ll have another.”

Tommy’s eyebrows jump, unable to conceal his shock, but he complies and slides over another shot. It goes down just as quickly. This process repeats two more times before he finally pulls the plug. “Why don’t we pace ourselves for a bit? Happy hour doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. Save yourself a few bucks.”

“Money’s not an issue,” they say, their words slightly slurred.

“Alright, I’ll level with ya. I’m not as concerned about your wallet as I am about any ‘accidents’ I may need to clean up.”

They huff out a hollow laugh. “I can hold my liquor, promise.”

“Just indulge me and drink some water.”

“Fine,” they grumble, taking a tentative sip from a much taller glass.

“Ya wanna talk about it?”

“Huh?”

“Ya wanna talk?”

“About what?”

“Anything. The weather- the Yankees- oh, I can show ya my collection of wine corks.”

“That’s… okay.” They gulp down the rest of their water, casting a hopeful glance at him, then at their empty shot glass.

He purses their lips, thinking. “Tell ya what- I’ll pour another shot if ya tell me one thing about yourself.”

Their eyes narrow at his deal, but his face remains steady. Fine, they can play along for now. “My name’s Wind.”

A quiet grin spreads on his face. “I was hoping to hear about a hobby or something.”

“A deal’s a deal.”

Tommy raises his hands in surrender. “That it is.” He serves another shot, which doesn’t last very long. “I like baseball, if ya couldn’t tell,” he jokes, gesturing to the several pieces of baseball memorabilia displayed.

“You play?”

His belly shakes with laughter. “Not well, I’m afraid. My ol’ man still put me in Little League, though, right next to my brother. I was one hell of a benchwarmer.”

“How ‘bout your brother?”

“Oh, that asshole? He was a mini prodigy. Bastard went on to play varsity. Won the state championship and everything.” Despite his light, jovial tone, Wind notices the distant look in his eyes.

“... And now?”

There’s a brief pause before he answers. “He doesn't play much of anything anymore.”

“What happened?”

His lip twitches upward with a smile that’s not all there. Dimmer than the one he first met them with. “I’ll need a few drinks before ya pull that story outta me.”

“Sorry,” they apologize quickly, “I didn’t-”

“No- you’re fine. Just felt like talking ‘s all.” He busies himself by wiping down the bar with a towel. “Ya don’t need to tell me anything, but a word to the wise: it feels a helluva lot better when you finally let it all out.”

Wind stares at him, their thoughts- all the pain, anger, and confusion threatening to spill out of them like a faucet. Kind brown eyes stare back with a patience that says, ‘Everything’s gonna be alright,’ without uttering a word. “Well, I-”

“Pop some champagne, Tito. I just got promoted!” They both startle in place. A woman strolls up to the bar, carrying a faint scent of ginger and citrus as she approaches. Wind’s eyes immediately flick to the golden snake adorning her neck, drawn by its intimidating beauty.

“Nini! That’s wonderful,” Tommy rejoices, clapping her on the shoulder like an old friend.

“I know. Now, where’s that champagne?”

“Hold on, I’ve got some in the back.” He moves to grab a bottle, but stops in his tracks when he sees them. “Oh- I’m sorry, Wind. You were about to say something.”

They shake their head. “No- actually, I should head out.”

“Stay for the toast at least.”

“Are you serious?” the woman complains.

“Yes,” Tommy hisses at her underneath his breath, which to Wind’s surprise, is all it takes for her to stand down.

“Alright,” she concedes, peering at them through her curled lashes. “Enjoy it, blondie. I’m usually not this generous, but today is a celebration. Consider it an early birthday gift.”

Their body seizes up. “What?”

“Or a late one. Not like I’d know the difference anyway. It’s no cake, but it’ll do.”

Glass shatters. A cacophony of shrieks and curses follows. Wind registers nothing- lost to fragments from the past. Their senses recall the piercing sound of their baby brother’s inconsolable wails. The desperation in their father’s pleas. They remember the cool tile on their knees- how sticky their tiny fingers became with pink frosting as they tried to push chunks of uneaten cake back together, ignoring the shards of fine china mixed throughout. All the while, their mother’s broken voice pounds within their ears. A haunting chant they can never forget.

“No puedo más- no puedo más- no puedo más-”

“Ya alright, pal?” Tommy’s worry warbles through their nightmarish haze.

“This fucking idiot got glass everywhere.”

“Ay, Nini- just grab the broom. It’s in the back. Oh- and the first aid kit.”

First aid kit? They glance down- mortified by the crimson stains on their sleeves. “Oh God-”

“Hey, take it easy-”

“NO-” Their sudden outburst sends them back several feet. “I- I need to- I need to go.”

“Hold on-”

Tommy’s words fall on deaf ears, or rather, no ears. They’re gone in a flash. No warning. No goodbye.

Just like Mamá.

---

tag list: @choicesmc, @win-chan, @brycesgirl, @stars-are-within-me, @inlocusmads

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minivirgo · 3 months

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j'ai enfin décidé quel sera mon prochain projet de tricot (à commencer après cette 2e chaussette) : mon premier cardigan

#et il sera rose je crois bien #extra doux avec un brin de mohair #je suis plus difficile sur les cardigans que sur les sweaters mais j'ai déjà plusieurs sweaters et aucun cardigan #alors je vais prendre mon courage à deux mains et espérer le réussir #j'ai envoyé genre. 20 messages incluant des vocaux à mon toro pour lui en parler #ma passion ma passion

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vscabarca · 22 days

Note

how about a gavi fic where they’ve been dating for a long time but long distance so the whole relationship is basically a secret and the public finds out and the internet sort of breaks and keeps commenting on how gavi is so different with her. if you do end up liking this and writing this please tag me <33

sant jordi - pablo gavi

summary: you visit your long-distance boyfriend Gavi and he accidentally hard launches your relationship.

genre: fluff!

a/n: @weekendlusting that request was so cute, thank you for your patience!🫶🏼 Also, i was listening to this song while writing, check it out for the full experience;)

———

Exhausted, you placed your school bag onto the floor of your hallway, walking towards the darkly lit living room. Just as you sat down, your phone buzzed and Pablo appeared on the screen.

With an immediate smile, you pressed the green button, accepting his call.

„Hello my love.“ He chimed, already laying in bed with his hood up.

„Hey amor.“ You tiredly answered, now also kicking your feet upon the couch.

„How was your day?“

„Exhausing but I wrote my last exam today.“ A feeling of relief washed over your body when you realized you‘d have now two weeks of pure relaxation, without having to do any schoolwork. But this feeling of relief was over quickly. Being in another country, several hours away from your boyfriend was hard. Especially if you had now so much freetime, you would love to spend it with Pablo.

„I‘m proud of you. Any plans for the upcoming days?“ Your boyfriend asked while playing with his hair.

„Not much. I wish I could spend them with you, I miss you.“ You pouted, feeling sad for only seeing him through the screen.

„Fly to Barcelona. I‘m having a few days off and I wanna see my gorgeous girl again.“

That’s how you ended up on a plane on a Tuesday, flying two hours to visit your long distance boyfriend for the next week.

The reunion was more than sweet. Pablo surprised you with flowers as he waited in his Audi for you. You two were over four months together, but still kept the relationship from the public. You wouldn’t actively try to keep it a secret, but also didn’t have the need to show everyone you two were together. After all, Pablo was Spain‘s teenage heartthrob and you were just a normal girl going to university.

He drove to his house first, giving you time to freshen up and put down your luggage. As it was the 23rd of April, also known as Diada de Sant Jordi, a catalan holiday, the city was decorated in red roses and Catalan flags.

As you two strolled aimlessly around a more quiet part of the city, Pablo never let go of your hand. To be not recognized too often, he wore his sunglasses and a cap, looking as handsome as ever.

The touch of his hand made you blush and the smile never left your face.

Suddenly, Pablo walked towards a little shop at the end of the street. It was so small you wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren’t for your boyfriend. Outside, there was a shelf filled with second-hand books and roses. Like the tradition says, Pablo grabbed a book with the most romantic title and went inside to pay. He stood in front of you, his signature smile plastered across his face as he gave you the book and the red rose.

„Feliz dia de Sant Jordi mi amor.“ You couldn’t help but blush, your face turning red from the charm of your boyfriend.

„Muchas gracias Pablito.“ You mused and stepped closer to press a gentle but yet passionate kiss onto his lips.

After you two enjoyed a fun day in Barcelona, you headed back home to cook dinner and have a relaxing night together.

During cooking and occasionally dancing to the music playing in the background, your phone started buzzing almost every two seconds. At first you dismissed it, thinking it was your friend filling you in on one of her hookup stories, but even Pablo turned his head in curiosity after the buzzing wouldn’t stop several minutes later.

„Don’t you think it’s important? It won’t stop.“ He asked with furrowed eyebrows, just as confused as you were. Your phone screen was flooded with people you barely knew asking about Gavi. Gavi here Gavi there, things like „you’re really together?“ or „could you ask him to sign me something?.“

It was so confusing until one of your family members told you to check Pablo‘s instagram.

You opened the app, seeing your boyfriend posted a story. Clicking on it, you saw a picture of you, holding the rose and book in your hands. Written was next to it „Feliz dia de sant jordi mi amor💞“

The blood froze in your veins. Did Pablo realize he just hard launched you?

„PABLO! why did you post me on your instagram account?“ You asked, eyes wide while he just shrugged his shoulders.

„I always do that. I thought you were okay with me posting you on my private account. You know only my family and close friends follow that account.“

Now it dawned on you. Pablo mistakenly posted the picture on his official account, the one with sixteen million followers instead of his private one with only twenty-seven.

„Baby… Of course I‘m okay with that, but you posted it on your main one. The one with sixteen million followers.“ You started laughing in despair, finding the situation oddly funny, even though whole Spain now knew about your relationship with the famous footballer.

Pablo grew red, standing in front of you in horror as he took a look himself.

„Fuck… I‘m so sorry. I swear I didn’t want to post that on there.“

„It‘s fine. I bet there are picture of us anyway from today.“ You said and assured him it was alright. He embraced you in a hug, kissing your head softly.

„At least I don’t have to hide you anymore.“

———

footy.gossip: teenage heartthrob Pablo Gavi is not on the love market anymore ladies!💔

He was seen spending the romantic holiday Sant Jordi with a mysterious girl by his side, buying her roses and a book. What a true gentleman!

view all comments:

user1: she’s really living the Y/N lifestyle…

user2: Gavi is for sure such a sucker for his girlfriend

->user3: I mean you can even see the heart eyes behind the sunglasses😭

pedri: yn finally you came to visit… he wouldn’t shut his mouth

->pablogavi: how could I not

->user4: HE‘S NOT EVEN DENYING IT??

user5: not pedri exposing gavi😭😭

user6: WE WANT A GF REVEAL!!

user7: I just know she dresses him

->user8: fr, the change from skinny jeans to this is a blessing

->user9: pedri step up your game

user10: don’t know who the girl is but… mamá y papá.

author: wish that was you huh?🫵🏻🤨

———

pablogavi: whoops accidental hard launch… anyway yn te amoo🫶🏼

comments are turned off

#pablo gavi #pablo gavi x reader #gavi x reader #gavi #football x reader #gavi one shot #football one shot #fc barcelona #football imagine #football fanfic #barça

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olee · 4 months

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Contigo | Enzo Vogrincic

(Spanglish)

The city of Madrid was enveloped in a quiet stillness as the sun began to rise on a Sunday morning. You had been in a relationship with Enzo for nearly a year now, but lately, his busy schedule of conferences and interviews had left you feeling disconnected and unmotivated. Sensing the need to break out of this monotony, you decided to embark on a solo adventure and take the metro to El Rastro, a bustling open-air market that had always piqued your curiosity. With a sense of anticipation, you stepped onto the train and began your journey to the vibrant market, hoping to find some inspiration in the lively atmosphere.

Upon checking your WhatsApp, you saw a message from Enzo that greeted you with "Buenos días". You replied with a smiley face, and he responded by asking, "estás bn?". In response, you expressed your longing by typing "nada, te extraño".

After exploring the famous open-air market, El Rastro, you made your way back to your apartment for a well-deserved rest. You decided to take a long nap to recharge your energy and prepare for the rest of your day.

At 11 pm, when you were just about to call it a day, you heard a sudden knock on your apartment door. Curiosity piqued, you made your way to the door and peered through the peephole to see who it was. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw Enzo, your boyfriend, standing outside with a bucket overflowing with beautiful roses. You couldn't resist the urge to open the door immediately and bask in the sight of his charming smile and the sweet fragrance of the roses.

He embraces your entire being, lifting you up against the wall. His lips caress your nose, then move to your soft lips, then to your delicate neck, and finally back to your lips once more. You feel his touch all over your body, sending shivers down your spine.

You find yourself sitting on the couch of your apartment with Enzo. After exchanging some kisses, he gently runs his fingers through your hair and places soft kisses on your cheeks. As you gaze into his beautiful honey-colored eyes, you suggest taking a stroll through the lively streets of Madrid to breathe in some fresh air. Enzo readily agrees, and you both set out to explore the vibrant city together.

As you walk hand-in-hand through the enchanting streets of Madrid, the city's vibrant energy surrounds you. Enzo breaks the serene atmosphere with a gentle inquiry: "¿Está todo bien?" You respond with a sigh, your emotions spilling out. "Es que... llevo meses sin verte y lo único que hago es trabajar, comer, y dormir. No es que tenga amistades; es que... a veces siento que te necesito, y odio sentir eso."

Unexpectedly, Enzo opens up, revealing his own struggles. "Sabes… me he estado sintiendo igual. Vos entendés que todo ha sido complicado. Mill(ch)ones de entrevistas y ahora con un nuevo papel—” Your curiosity peaks, and you interrupt, “Espera… ¿cómo que un nuevo papel? Joder Enzo, pero, ¿por qué no me lo has dicho? Joderrr… Felicidades!”

In a burst of pride for his upcoming film, you embrace Enzo tightly and shower him with kisses under the warm glow of a streetlamp in a romantic corner of Madrid. As he reciprocates the affection, he gazes intensely into your eyes. You playfully kiss the tip of his nose and delicately trace your fingers over his eyebrows, savoring the moment. Softly, you express your pride, whispering words of admiration, and seal the sentiment with another tender kiss.

Enzo, caught in the embrace of your pride and affection, responds with a tender smile. The soft glow of the streetlamp accentuates the warmth in his eyes as he holds you close. In a voice filled with love and gratitude, he whispers, "Gracias, mi amor. Having you by my side makes every achievement sweeter." As he gazes into your eyes, a silent understanding and a shared passion for each other's successes deepen the romantic connection between you two.

#enzo vogrincic #la sociedad de la nieve #society of the snow #fanfic #spanish #spain #uruguay #enzo x reader #latina #x reader #enzo vogrincic x reader #enzo vogrincic x you #my writing #argentina #enzo vogrincic fic #me enamoré de un uruguayo

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humanpurposes · 8 months

Text

De Facto

She can't afford to fantasize over Aemond Targaryen, he's her boss and the Prime Minister... but stopping is easier said than done // Main Masterlist

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of SA, questionable power dynamics, politics (putting my degree to good use), unnecessary world building

Words: 7700

A/n: Thanks for the inspo @ewanmitchellcrumbs, sorry it's not Dishy Rishi tho :(

Throughout the whole train journey into Central King’s Landing, she’s sure she’s dreaming. Her body feels strangely light, her hands are restless and her heart is beating steadily in her chest.

She flows effortlessly with the stream of commuters, along the platform, through the station’s glass atrium, then left towards Conquest Street. She knows her way around this part of the city already, and though she’s never been inside, she’s walked past Hightower House countless times.

This time is different. Now she walks up to the iron gates, pressing her thumbnail into her index finger, because the armed guards are making her nervous.

She tells them her name and one of them mutters into a radio.

Her eyes run along the gold crest that marks the gate, a shield divided into seven, a sun for Dorne, a rose for The Reach, a stag for The Stormlands, a Trout for The Riverlands, a Falcon for The Vale, a Kraken for The Iron Islands, a wolf for The North, and at its heart is the symbol that unites them, the three headed dragon (although strictly speaking, Westeros abolished its monarchy centuries ago).

Suddenly one of the guards catches her attention. He opens the gate for her, and says she’ll be given a security pass and instructions to use the staff entrance following her official induction.

Hightower House stands proudly before her, an ornate facade of balustrades and columns, order and symmetry, an obvious juxtaposition of the medieval majesty of the Red Keep, just down the road.

It all feels very daunting, but the last five years have led her to this moment, the entirety of her adult life. She keeps telling herself that she deserves to be here, after all, she was the one who made it through the first round of applications, who made it to the shortlist and the final interviews, and she was the only one of hundreds of applicants who received the phone call, offering her a position as a personal advisor to the Prime Minister.

The contract only lasts two years, but it is the most effective stepping stone into a career in politics that she could ever ask for.

The entire morning is spent working out formalities. First she meets the deputy chief of staff, a handsome man named Criston Cole, who she’ll directly report to. He shows her through mountains of paperwork and gives her a brief overview of her role. Essentially, she is to assist the Prime Minister on whatever he deems necessary, policy aims, speeches, media coverage, political rhetoric, public image.

“You’re a glorified assistant,” Cole says as she reads and signs page after page of her employment contract, “but with a salary to reflect it, so don’t feel discouraged. There will be some admin work which can get tedious, but you’ve been selected for your expertise and your passion for the party.”

That’s the crucial part of the job. Everything she does will be to benefit Mr Targayren as head of the Green Party, still running off the high of their victory at the last general election, just under a year ago.

She signs her last signature triumphantly, despite the ache in her wrist, and hands the pen back to Cole with a smile. “All done?” she asks hopefully.

Cole grimaces sympathetically. “Not quite.”

There are four people to meet before she’s officially in. She takes a deep breath to soothe herself. It’s all just more formalities, which she can understand, given the weight of this job.

The first is the Prime Minister's private secretary, a glamorous woman with black hair and piercing green eyes, named Alys Rivers. She greets her warmly, having already spoken over the phone with her several times. She also knows her CV off by heart. It’s a little strange having someone know almost everything about her education and employment history when her face is unfamiliar.

The next is a young woman named Maris, the other of Mr Targaryen’s personal advisors. She has dark hair and a look of determination in her grey eyes. She explains that there are always two personal advisors, but hired on alternating years. She was hired at the start of Mr Targaryen’s premiership, and has a year left of her contract.

There are a thousand questions she wants to ask Maris, but before she can even scratch the surface, Cole’s checking his watch and dragging her off to another office.

Otto Hightower is the chief of staff. He’s thin and wiry, but incredibly intimidating. He has tired, sunken eyes that seem to glare right through her, and a passive but severe expression on his face, as though he’s scrutinising, having already decided she’s a waste of his time.

It’s not a great feeling, being looked at like that by a man she’s idolised for years. She knows his career timeline by heart. He earned his bachelors in Politics and Economics from Oldtown, before doing a masters in International Relations at King’s Landing, where he met and befriended Viserys Targaryen. He worked his way to becoming an MP and soon into Viserys’ cabinet when be became Prime Minister.

But things changed when Otto’s daughter married Viserys. No one really knows the whole truth, but Otto resigned from the Black Party, and took over from his own brother as leader of the opposition.

Now he works in the background, the mastermind behind his grandson’s remarkable successes.

Cole explains that Mr Hightower had the final say in the shortlist and determining which applicant would be given the final job offer.

“You had an impressive application,” he says, briefly looking up from a document. “I’m sure you’ll do well with us.”

“Thank you, Mr Hightower,” she says through the slight tremble in her jaw.

Other than that, the interaction is brief, and soon Cole is ushering her out of the room, back to Alys’ office, as richly decorated as the rest of the building. Maris is sitting at another desk, typing away furiously on a laptop.

“Tea? Coffee? Water?” Cole offers her, gesturing for her to take a seat on a green leather sofa.

“Water would be lovely,” she says.

“Maris,” he calls.

She glares up from her laptop. “That’s not my job.”

“No, but it’s courtesy,” he says.

Alys’ slight smirk doesn’t escape her attention.

Maris purses her lips, but she closes her laptop, pointedly slams her hands against the arms of her chair, and marches out of the room, her shiny black heels clicking against the dark wood floor.

“She’s nice really,” Cole says, “just a bit… direct at times.”

“Direct,” Alys groans to herself.

She feels her brow flicker into a frown but stops herself.

“She’s good at her job,” Criston says like he might say something else, but he doesn’t.

When Maris returns, she seems a little less on edge.

She takes the glass of water with a cautious hand, Maris’ eyes lingering on her maroon painted nails.

“I like your top,” Maris says.

She glances down. It’s nothing special, black and long-sleeved, to go with her long blue and green patterned skirt.

“Thank you,” she says.

Maris hums to herself before she goes back to her desk.

“Do you often work in here?” she asks.

Maris shrugs. “It depends.” She doesn’t care to explain further.

Alys is smirking again.

“Mr Targaryen was in a meeting with the cabinet this morning,” Cole says, then checks his watch. “He has a few phone calls to make, but he should be ready to see you at about 4pm. Maris?”

“Yes?”

“Will you show her in around then?”

“Yeah,” she says, flatly, “of course.”

Cole shakes her hand before he leaves. “Alys will show you out when you leave. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

She continues to wait on the sofa, restless in the silence that follows once the door has shut. Alys and Maris are both typing, their nails clicking against their keyboards. She starts to bounce her leg and stops herself.

Her mind is racing. The day seems to have gone well so far, but what if she meets Mr Targaryen and it all falls apart? What if he decides he doesn’t like her and sends her packing?

She’s too lost in her own head to notice the flash of Alys’ emerald green dress as she stands in front of her. That is, until she’s leaning down and waving a bar of chocolate in front of her. “Get a bit of sugar in you,” she says, “and breathe slowly.”

She smiles as she takes the bar and places a single cube on her tongue. She lets it melt, savouring the sweetness and the slight bitterness of its taste.

You can do this, she thinks to herself with every inhale. And then she exhales. You are here for a reason.

The phone on Alys’ desk rings. She checks her own phone. It’s exactly 3:59.

“Yes, sir, Maris will show her in now.”

Aemond Targaryen is on the other end of the line. Her heart drops at the thought.

As the second son of Viserys, it seems like he was always destined for the family business. He differs from his father and grandfather in that he did Politics and Philosophy at Sunspear, before going on to do his masters in History at Oldtown, and then another masters in International Relations at King’s Landing. By all accounts, he is fiercely intelligent, mature beyond his years, with the right balance of intimidating and charismatic to command the support he needed to get in as MP for Rosby, then as party leader.

In fact, it had been his first campaign that inspired her to apply for a degree in politics in the first place. She loved how he spoke, how he managed to strike a balance between grace and passion, and how deeply he cared for his policies. He was poised and perfect, but driven by a genuine want for improvement.

He perfected his craft within a matter of years. With the mess Rhaenyra Targaryen had made of the country, it was all too easy for him to win a majority with a few winning speeches, a hand running through his silver hair, that lazy half-smirk and the intense look in his eyes that just made you want to fall at his feet. And people do. The press adore him, his party worships him, foreign dignitaries often remark on his charm but also his capabilities as a negotiator and a leader.

Maris leads her out of the office, along a quiet corridor. She stops outside a door with gold lettering: Office of A. Targaryen, Prime Minister

Seeing it in front of her, strangely, seems to subdue her nerves. Her chest flutters, but the anxiety is more manageable than before.

Maris taps her knuckles against the door three times.

From the other side of the door she hears a gentle but chilling voice. “Enter.”

She follows Maris inside.

He’s perched against his desk, his long, silver hair falling around his shoulders as he looks over a few pieces of paper. He wears a white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks and brown leather shoes.

He looks up slowly, the light of the early Autumn evening beaming through the windows, over the sharp features of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his neck.

His eyes find hers, unashamed and curious.

Suddenly she can feel her heart in her throat.

Maris introduces her. “I’m sure Alys already debriefed you, but she’s here for her induction. Cole said you wanted to meet her as a formality and–”

It feels awfully like she’s talking for the sake of it.

“That will be all, Maris,” Mr Targaryen says softly. She can’t help but watch the way his lips move when he speaks.

“Oh, are you sure, sir?” she asks. Her face is twisted into a slight frown but her eyes are wide. “I just thought, for her sake, it might be useful if I’m here to explain everything.”

“I’m sure, thank you.”

She stands with her hands clasped in front of her skirt as she listens to Maris’ footsteps move towards the door. It opens and closes, and now all she can hear are her own breaths, gently flowing through her nose.

She doesn’t know where to look. At the patterned carpet on the floor? No, it would be rude of her to hang her head. At the portraits that line the wall? At the bookshelves? At the desk? No, that all seems too intrusive. Out the window? No, that might seem like she’s not paying attention.

So her eyes settle on him.

He hasn’t moved from his position, but he’s placed the paper on the desk behind him, leaning with his palms at the edge. His eyes glance over her once, up and down.

Fuck, he’s so much better looking in person.

Then he stands to his full height, and picks up a clipboard from the desk. He flicks through a few of the pages and hums softly to himself.

“You had an impressive application,” he says.

She swallows through the slightly dry feeling in her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“And an excellently written cover letter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You did your masters in Comparative Politics at Sunspear. Oberyen Martell is still head of faculty there, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He taught one of my modules, Security Studies.”

“He’s an interesting character,” he muses, smiling to himself. “He was my supervisor for my undergrad dissertation.”

She already knew that. Dr Martell loved to go on about his star student. She would too if she taught the future Prime Minister.

He flicks to another page. She watches as his eyes skim over the words in front of him. “And you came with glowing reviews from Tyland Lannister.”

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to respond to that– it makes her sound more like a product than a person– so she just smiles, as delicately as she can, making sure not to squint her eyes too much.

She had spent the last year as Mr Lannister’s Parliamentary Assistant, at his office in the Red Keep, starting just as he had been appointed as Foreign Secretary.

“How was he as a boss?” Mr Targayren asks.

Straightforward, she thinks. He took his job seriously and was decidedly not a fan of smalltalk. His office often worked in silence, and even when he was stressed he was efficient.

“No complaints,” she says.

“I’m sure you were all kept busy, cleaning up Corlys Velaryon’s mess after the Stepstones.”

A minor military excursion to defend a few key trading routes, or at least that’s how it had started. Within a matter of months the Stepstones had spiralled beyond control, costing Corlys Velaryon his seat and the Blacks their majority in Parliament.

“If I remember right, it was Daemon Targaryen pushing that particular policy,” she says.

The corner of his mouth curls upward. It could be a smile but she’s not entirely sure.

“Sir,” she adds, hoping to soften the blow of her unintentional insult; what idiot tries to correct the Prime Minister on their first day on the job? She does, clearly.

He doesn’t seem irritated or angry, more amused. A cryptic “hmm” sounds in his throat as he flicks back to the first document. “And before that you were a campaign manager for the party, yes?”

“Yes,” she says brightly, grateful for the change of subject. “I was working in the Stormlands in the lead up to the general election.” The region was formerly a Black stronghold, but turned Green thanks in part to her efforts.

“Excellent work,” he says.

The smooth, seductive tone of his voice seems to come so naturally to him. She bites her tongue at the image it prompts in her head, of his lips brushing over her ear, his hands resting on her waist, she can almost feel it–

No. That’s wrong. So wrong.

Fantasising about the Prime Minister of Westeros is not a habit she can afford to keep up, not when she’s supposed to be working with him in such close proximity.

But that’s easier said than done.

Cole enters his office, bright and early on Monday morning, before the rest of Hightower House is awake.

Aemond’s routine is the same every day. Up at 5am, run a few laps of the expansive gardens or spend an hour going through his meticulously planned gym routine. He showers, shaves, applies his skincare and haircare products, dabs some perfume on his wrists, dresses, and takes breakfast and a black coffee in his office. By 7:30am he’s ready to work.

He needs the routines and the outlets. They help keep him sane.

He’d seen how this position twisted his father into a tired, irritable and irrational man, how it got to Rhaenyra’s head until she became a liability to herself. He won’t be like them. He has a reputation to uphold, a legacy to claim.

Cole places a folder on his desk. “The background check you ordered, sir.”

He thanks him, quietly and sincerely, and waits until he’s left the room to open the folder.

His new personal advisor intrigues him. He’d made the request for the background check as soon as their meeting had ended on Friday.

She has no criminal record, which is unsurprising, that definitely would have come up sooner if she had one.

He browses through her education history, a star student at Storm’s End Grammar School, a bachelor’s in history from Rainwood, a masters from Suspear, where she was head of Debate Soc and Amnesty International, while working various internships and retail jobs in between.

The next page is full of articles from student publications, The Importance of Integrity in Politics for the Rainwood Student Journal, Sovereignty in the Stepstones for Red Sun Rising. He reads through them both. Her writing is immaculate, concise and convincing.

The final page is more personal, social media profiles. It’s nothing scandalous, but she clearly has a certain image she wants to project. Her Instagram is full of art and history museums, coffee shops and preppy outfits. She has a few pictures on her LinkedIn of her at the Green Party conference last year, pictured with a group of girls her age and a caption that talks about the importance of representation in politics, with links to various charities and initiatives. In the photo she’s wearing a white silk shirt, open just enough to show off a dainty gold necklace and a hint of the swell of her chest.

She seems perfect. Too perfect for his own good.

The first months go smoothly enough.

Maris is a practical person. She’s good with numbers, good for bouncing off ideas for economic policies and analysing data for him, even if she is a little overbearing at times.

But she fills the gaps perfectly. He secretly looks forward to their meetings and debriefings, when he asks her to write or edit speeches for him, or run through questions with him before a press conference. Politics is never easy, but she has a remarkable talent for keeping a level head. He likes that she’s always calm and composed. He likes her soft, reassuring smiles and the sharp look in her eyes.

They just click. She’s always switched on, always knows the right things to say and do, always knows what he needs.

Every moment they are alone feels monumental; the settled quiet of his office when she first walks in and takes a seat on the other side of his desk; when they make an exchange, debriefing papers for an empty coffee cup, and their fingers will brush over each other; when he stands over her shoulder to read the document she’s working on, close enough to smell her perfume and feel a heat simmering under his skin. It’s starting to become unbearable, and yet he craves that feeling.

And then, one morning, he gets a phone call from the Crownlands Messenger. They’re about to publish a story. His brother has been accused of inappropriate conduct by no less than three women.

Fucking Aegon.

The entire country is in an uproar. How can anyone trust their Parliamentary representatives when they do shit like this? Is Aegon an outlier or is this just scratching the surface? What will his punishment be? What else are the Greens hiding?

There are hundreds of emergency meetings with his grandfather, tense phone calls, bearating headlines, and onslaughts of outrage online. There’s no question about it, Aegon has to resign as an MP, but the damage is done. The polls are turning Black instead of Green. People don’t trust the ruling party, or its leader.

It’s late. Aemond paces his office while a headache pulses in his head. He’s long ditched the coffee for whisky, swirling it about in his glass. He sent Maris home hours ago. He doesn’t have the patience for anyone at the moment. Except for the woman leaning against his desk, flicking through news articles and the pages of notes she’s prepared for him.

Tomorrow is PMQs. No doubt there’s only one topic the Blacks will be asking about. He can already see Rhaenyra and Daemon’s smug faces, the delight they’ll take in watching him fall apart. There’s just no way he’s getting out of this easily.

He feels so restless. His hands are trembling and his lips won’t seem to stop moving, so he places himself against the wall, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes another generous sip.

From the desk he hears a heavy sigh that hums slightly in her throat. “Is there anything else you want to go over, sir?” she asks.

“No, I think we’ve exhausted the hypotheticals,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. He resists the urge to pull at the roots, to take his frustration out on something. “It’s just– fuck’s sake, I’ve been saying Aegon’s a liability for years. But no, Otto always wanted to keep pushing for him. Said it was good for the family’s image.”

She places her phone and the document behind her, and takes a few steps towards him.

He glances down at her, at the way the low light of the lamps and the fireplace glows against her skin, the contented sort of look in her eyes.

Her eyes flicker down at his now empty glass. “Refill, sir?” Her lips stay slightly parted once she stops speaking.

Then he realises he’s staring.

“No, thank you,” he mutters, tapping his finger against the glass. “I should probably stop now.”

She takes the glass from him with her middle finger and thumb, avoiding touching his hand before she takes it away. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to his head but his heart sinks at the lack of contact.

What is he doing? It must be after 9pm now and he’s still keeping her here without a real reason.

She’s standing by the drinks cabinet, carefully placing the crystal bottle of whisky away and setting the empty glass out for housekeeping to clean up in the morning.

Instead of thinking about her, the way her hair looks, the way her skirt hugs her waist and the curve of her backside and thighs, he tries to think about how much he hates Aegon. This only makes him more agitated.

He closes his eyes and throws his head against the wall. His heart is racing and there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s craving something, not another drink, not a smoke (he quit once he was first elected as an MP). He wants something else, something dangerous and damning.

The heels of her shoes tap softly against the floor, until she’s standing in front of him.

He opens his eyes.

She frowns slightly before lifting her hand and delicately placing it on his shoulder. “You need to relax, sir,” she says.

He lets out a low “hmm,” as he weighs out his options. This seems like a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

“That’s not going to happen with you here,” he says.

Her calm, somewhat smug expression falls. She looks so innocent now, so sweet. “What does that mean?” she says.

He leans in closer to her, until the tip of his nose barely brushes against hers. “I think you know what it means, darling.”

She hesitates, before her mouth spreads into an eager smile that shows off her teeth.

Her hands find his, ensnaring him under a soft but commanding grip. She leads him away from the wall, to the sofa by the fireplace.

He settles on it, leaning against the arm as she comes to her knees before him, spreading his legs apart to make room for herself.

She palms her hand over the hardness that’s been straining painfully against his trousers for hours now. She feels along his clothed cock, pressing her cheek against it and gazing up at him with a look of teasing innocence.

Aemond knows he is done for, jaw slack, chest rising and falling as he breathes. He would have never presumed he would find himself in this kind of position, not after all the work’s he’s had to do cleaning up the mess of Aegon’s fuck ups, not after working this hard to get where he is, and least of all because he believes himself to be a decent man.

But he doesn’t stop her as her fingers undo the button and the zip on his trousers, and he doesn’t make any kind of protest as she takes his freed cock in her hand and teasingly strokes along it.

He keeps his hands firmly on the sofa, digging his fingertips and his nails into the leather, as if he hasn’t been dreaming of having her like this for weeks, as if he hasn’t fucked his own hand countless times pretending it was her.

He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. He looks down, his jaw slack, barely containing his strained breaths, and there she is, doe-eyed and eager as she places a delicate kiss to his flushed tip. Her lips barely brush against him before she pulls away, keeping a hold at the base.

His arousal stains her mouth and she fucking grins.

“Enjoying yourself?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she says, sweetly, earnestly.

He runs his hand against her hair, gently, as if trying to soothe her. It seems to take her by surprise which only serves to excite him further.

She leans into his touch, lips parting, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

Until he grips his fist and pulls. He tilts her head up. It shouldn’t hurt, but it’s enough to bring her attention back to him.

He decides he won’t tell her what to do, not directly, but she’s a smart girl, she knows what he wants.

With her eyes wide again, she opens her mouth and inches his cock past her lips. The tightness in his gut starts to burn as she works up and down his length, slowly– excruciatingly slowly. It’s not in anyway relaxing, he thinks, but it’s a nice kind of torture.

He loses himself to the warmth and the wetness of her mouth, her tongue running over the underside of his cock, her lips teasing over the tip before she moves back down, using her hands where her mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out a throaty “fuck,” knowing there’s a security guard outside the door, and probably a few of the staff still lingering about.

But she looks so beautiful like this, her brow furrowed in determination as she tries to take him deeper and deeper, desperate to please him, happy to make him suffer for it. And the little noises she makes, the gags and the moans. He imagines that she likes this, that she’s been wanting this for as long as he has, and if he pulled her onto his lap and slid his fingers under her skirt, he’d find her drenched.

She starts to up the pace until he brings his hand to the side of her face again, his hand large enough that he can rest his palm against her cheek and tease his fingers through her hair. Her eyes dart up to his, wide and teary.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “nice and slow, just like that.”

She whimpers around him, breathing desperately through her nose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he coos, “you started this, didn’t you? Wanted to taste me? Wanted to feel my cock in your mouth?”

She hums in agreement.

“Just fucking take it then,” he says with a clenched jaw, gripping her hair to bob her head up and down, keeping that torturous pace.

The pleasure builds slowly, running hotly through his body, but he fights the urge to clamp both hands around her head and buck his hips up to fuck her throat.

He comes harder than he thinks he ever has before, keeping himself sheathed within her as he paints the inside of her mouth, and pulls her head away to see the last few drops spill against her lips.

She gazes up at him with dazed and glassy eyes. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath. Her forehead glistens with sweat, mascara runs down her face and his spend drips over her chin.

He wipes some of the mess away with his thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. “Swallow,” he orders.

Her mouth closes and her throat bobs. He can already feel the tension in his gut tightening again.

If only he could keep her like this forever.

She makes it to Hightower House at the usual time of 8am, despite leaving work so late last night. Despite the hours she spent consumed by thoughts of Aemond Targaryen as she rode the train and dragged herself into her bed. Despite the aching arousal that went unfulfilled. Despite the marks on her knees and the stiffness in her jaw.

When she walks into Alys’ office to sign in, she’s already there, perfectly poised and typing away on her laptop.

“Morning,” she says brightly.

Alys looks up from the screen. The white light shining from below makes her face look a little eerie. “Morning,” she says with a smug look on her face.

She ignores it, scrawling down the time and her signature beside her name.

“You were working rather late last night,” Alys says.

“Yeah, I was,” she mutters, placing the pen down and straightening her spine.

Alys is staring at her. Her eyes are unnervingly bright. “He never asks Maris to work late.”

Her heart drops.

It’s like she can feel the weight of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue.

“I bet he’s just realised I’m more of a people pleaser,” she says.

Alys hums and smiles. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t have time for this. She hangs up her coat and her bag, and picks up two black coffees from the coffee machine in the kitchenette down the hall.

Aemond is in his office, leaning back in his chair with his mobile pressed to his ear. He doesn’t react much when he sees her, he just watches her as she sets one of the cups in front of him. He raises his eyebrows in thanks and brings it to his lips.

She imagines the person on the other end of the call is starting to bore him.

“Yeah… yeah… I know… well there’s not much to be done now but get it over with.”

She takes a few sips from her own cup, wiping the corners of her mouth. Aemond follows her fingers as she does.

“I’ll speak to you after. Yes, thank you, grandfather.” He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto a stack of papers on the desk. “Seven fucking Hells.”

“How did that go?” she asks.

Aemond rolls his eyes and huffs a tired laugh. “He wants to talk through candidates for the by-election in Duskendale. I said I’ll think about it if I survive PMQs.”

She sets her coffee cup down. “What are you most worried about? You’ve prepared for this. What’s worrying you?”

Aemond taps his fingers against the desk. She tries not to ignore the thrill it sends through her belly.

“I’ve never had to deal with something like this. I’ve never been this worried about the party’s image, but that’s usually because I do everything right.”

The whole Aegon situation is beyond his control, and yet he’ll be getting the scrutiny for it.

“People need to be able to trust you,” she says.

Aemond looks up at her expectantly.

“Is Aegon still a party member?” she asks.

Aemond’s expression darkens. “That was discussed. Otto wants him to remain an official member.”

“You’re the Prime Minister. Put your foot down.”

“I can’t,” he says, standing and fixing the rolled up sleeves and undone buttons on his shirt before he reaches for his tie.

“You can’t afford not to. If you go easy on Aegon, Rhaenyra’s going to play to some kind of ‘the Greens are anti woman card.’ Your voters need to know you’re taking this seriously.”

“And throw my own brother under the bus?” he says, sternly.

But she can tell he’s still nervous. His hands are shaking as he ties the tie around his neck.

She pauses, wondering where the line is here. Aegon Targaryen will be fine. He’ll be put under investigation and keep getting bad press for a while, but he can live off daddy’s money in the meantime, and in a few years the whole scandal will be forgotten.

She takes a few steps towards him and comes close enough to smell the dark, boozy smell of his perfume, and shoos his hands away.

“What would be better for the country,” she asks, tilting her head and keeping her eyes focused as she fastens his tie, “presenting yourself as a leader who is committed to integrity and respect, or leaving yourself open to further criticism?”

She pushes the knot up tightly against his collar for emphasis.

Aemond just smirks. “You’re very persuasive,” he says.

“That’s my job, sir.”

She gasps as his hand grabs her hip and pulls her against him. His breath runs hotly over her face as he tilts her chin up to look at him. His throat hums as he breathes.

She could fall apart then and there.

Until a knock on the door has her practically shoving him away.

Aemond chuckles and shrugs on his suit jacket. “Enter,” he calls.

She turns her back to the door to hide the flustered look on her face, pretending to look through a bookshelf that she’s never really looked at properly before.

“Car for you, sir,” Alys says from the doorway.

Aemond calls for her by her surname. Fuck– she was supposed to pack his briefcase before he left. She takes a breath and goes about collecting all the pages of notes and briefings he’ll need.

She brings it to him, and notices Maris standing in the hallway behind Alys. Maris usually goes with him to the Red Keep for PMQs, but today he requests that she accompany him. She supposes it makes sense, she’s been the one helping him prepare after all.

Maris’ face is a storm. Alys looks down at her feet and tries to stifle a giggle.

The next few hours are a blur. She trails after Aemond through the ornate corridors, keeping her eyes on his silver hair, flowing down the back of his black suit jacket. Somewhere along the way, Cole and the head of security, a man Aemond greets as “Mr Westerling”, joins them.

They leave through the front entrance, into the sharp September air and into a black car. The hum of the engine and the smell of leather makes her nauseous, but they’re only in the car for a matter of minutes before the door swings open and she’s been ushered towards the Red Keep.

Once a seat of Kings, now the red stone castle seems a little out of place with the rest of the city. This is where Parliament gathers.

As they walk through its halls, Aemond tells her to throw a few questions at him. She has them all memorised in her head, able to recite a few without really thinking about it. Aemond mutters the answers they’ve rehearsed under his breath, smiling politely and waving as they pass by civil servants, MPs, Green and Black party members alike. They even pass Cregan Stark, leader of the Northern Independence party. He whispers all of their names in her ear.

There’s a small room where Aemond waits in before he enters the Great Hall. She can hear the noise and the chatter on the other side of the double doors, engraved with the same crest that marks the gates to Hightower House.

He won’t stop moving, adjusting his tie and his cuffs, tutting and pursing his lips.

She makes sure Cole and Westerling are muttering to each other before she leans into Aemond, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she whispers, “don’t see it as a chance for them to criticise you, see it as an opportunity for you to reassure everyone else of how brilliant you are.”

Aemond turns his head towards her. He’s not touching her but she feels the proximity.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” he says.

She smiles. “It’s all perspective.”

Before Aemond is called into the hall, Cole directs her to the gallery, above the benches where the MPs sit.

She and Aemond meet eyes before she leaves. She stops herself from reaching for him, not wanting to leave his side.

“Good luck,” she says.

As if he needs it. She watches everything unfold from the gallery, the MPs sat below her like she’s watching a play in a theatre.

Aemond starts off with an amazing opening speech which, at her recommendation, doesn’t shy away from the issue of the whole Aegon scandal. He affirms his commitment to ensuring that central government is a safe and inclusive working environment, which is when he announces Aegon’s resignation as an MP, as well as his removal from the Green Party.

The chamber in an uproar. A few members of the Green Party make a bit of a fuss, but mostly Aemond’s announcement is applauded, even by a good number of Black Party members.

Rhaenyra, Aemond’s sister and predecessor, is at a loss for words, as is her deputy, Daemon.

Aemond seems to get a boost of confidence from this and takes every question in his stride, using elements from the answers she had rehearsed with him and even throwing in a few one liners which has half the room cheering him.

And he’s fucking hot when he’s cocky.

While he speaks all she can think of is how he sounded while she was between his legs. “Good girl… just fucking take it…” she has to clench her fists and her jaw at the wave of arousal that rises within her.

Afterwards she walks with him to the car. A whole host of Green Party members crowd him as they walk through the hallways, praising him, commending him. He smiles graciously, looking over his shoulder every so often to look at her, to make sure she’s not fallen behind.

The silence of the car is unbearable with Cole and Westerling in the front, and Aemond beside her, drumming his fingers against his thigh and running his other hand through his hair.

She presses her thighs at the obvious arousal pooling at her centre.

Seven hells, she’s acting like she’s in heat.

She follows Aemond back through Hightower House, past Alys’ office, to his own office. When he closes the door behind them, he locks it.

She leans against the desk, keeping her hands on the wood behind her.

Aemond turns back to her with a ravenous look in his pale blue eyes. He reaches into his pocket, effortlessly pulling his hair into a low bun, as he usually does in informal company.

She can’t take her eye off him as he tosses his jacket over the sofa, and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Then he stalks towards her, his chin tilted down and his lips in a tight line, until he’s close enough to paw at her waist.

“I suppose I should thank you for your help,” he says, eyes fixed on his hands as they tease over the fabric of the red mini skirt she had picked out this morning, the way she squirms underneath him.

“Oh,” she breathes. One of his hands trails up, untucking her blouse from her skirt and brushing his fingertips against the bare skin underneath. “Just… doing my job, sir.”

He hums to himself as his hand works its way round to her backside, squeezing gently. “Do you like calling me ‘sir’?”

She can’t help but nod, dazed at the feeling of his hands tracing the shape of her body.

“Yeah, I think you do,” he says, leaning in to press a slow, firm kiss to her neck.

Her resolve is shattered. She throws her hands around his neck, pulling herself into him, desperate to feel him against her, to stay close to him.

She almost whines when he moves away, much to his amusement, feeling her mouth fall into a pout.

“Don’t tell me I’ve got a brat,” he says, taking her chin in his hand. “Are you going to be good for me, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” she utters.

“See? You don’t even need to be told,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to turn around and lean over the desk.”

She follows his instructions without missing a beat, bracing herself on her forearms, against the surface. She feels her skirt being pushed up over her hips, her tights and panties pulled down in one go, fingertips trailing over her thighs. Then she feels his breath against the wetness of her bare pussy.

She can’t help but let out a quiet moan, pressing her nails into the wood in anticipation.

“Haven’t even fucking touched you yet, are you that desperate for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, trying to look over her shoulder.

Aemond’s hand finds its way against her head, pressing her down. And he doesn’t let go.

His fingers drag through her folds, teasing her entrance and her clit before he slides in a single digit. It feels so different from her own, longer and thicker, pressing into her at an unfamiliar angle. She feels utterly weightless, the obscene sound of him moving in and out of her only adding to her arousal.

Aemond’s voice is dark and husky, as it was last night. “Good girl,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?”

When she doesn’t reply, he withdraws and lands a stinging slap against her cheek, before he pushes into her again. “Answer me,” he says, clearly and firmly.

“Yes, sir,” she says, frantically trying to nod against his hold of her head. “Feels so fucking good.”

He increases his speed, pumping in and out of her until her climax washes over her. It happens gradually, building and building before a pleasant numbness washes through her, to every corner of her body.

While she comes down from her high, her attention is caught by the sound of a belt buckle and rustling fabric.

The tip of his cock presses into her without warning. He inches further and further in until he bottoms out, the material of his trousers pressing against her skin– the cunt hasn’t even bothered to take off his clothes.

He finally relents his hold of her head, grabbing at her waist as he ruts into her. It’s fast and primal, adrenaline pumping through her blood, Aemond’s fingers digging into her flesh, her breath coming out in moans, his belt buckle hitting the desk with every harsh thrust.

“Knew you were a little slut,” he grits out, grabbing at her cheeks and spreading them out to watch his cock moving in and out of her. ��Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She covers her mouth with her hand to hold back the wanton noises threatening to slip past her lips.

Suddenly a hand comes to her shoulder, pulling her up against his chest. One hand kneads at her breasts through her blouse and her bra, while the other slips between her legs, tracing quick circles over her clit.

“I wanna feel you come,” he rasps into her ear, “wanna feel my good girl clench around my cock.”

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She clings to his arms and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She can feel herself hurtling towards her climax, if only he would move his fingers a little faster.

“Please,” she whispers.

“What was that, pet?” Aemond asks, brushing his lips over her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come!” she whines. “Fuck– please… please, I just want to come, sir.”

She feels him smiling against her as his fingers rub faster over her clit. She can feel how deep he is inside her, how his cock bullies against that sensitive spot, over and over again, until her orgasm tears through her.

She tries to keep her mouth shut but she can’t help the pleading groan that hums in her throat. Aemond holds her as she falls apart, fucking her thoroughly through it all.

Until finally, he reaches his end, hissing through his teeth and pulling out to spill himself onto her pussy. She feels the warmth, how it drips through her folds, for now uncaring of the mess they’ve surely made.

Aemond keeps holding her against his chest. His forehead falls against the back of her head and his hot breath echoes over her neck. “I really appreciate the work you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly. “I think you and I make quite a pair, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewls, letting her head fall against his arm.

Aemond hums a laugh to himself, it rumbles in his chest and against her back. “So pretty and polite,” he coos, “how did I ever manage without you until now, pet?”

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @targaryenrealnessdarling

A/n: I might do a part 2 to this so let me know if you would liked to be tagged :)

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hotvintagepoll · 2 months

Text

Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Maureen O’Hara (The Parent Trap, The Quiet Man)—They called her the Queen of Technicolor. That right there should help introduce people to the fiery, wonderful, stunning Maureen O’Hara. She was from Ireland, born in 1920, and started in theater at the age of ten. At 15, she was winning drama awards, including one for her performance as Portia in the Merchant of Venice. At 16, she was the youngest pupil to graduate from the Guildhall School of Music. By 18, she transitioned to film, starting off with a bang alongside Charles Laughton in Hitchcock’s Jamaica Inn, and proceeded to work steadily up through the early 1970s. She was in adventures and comedies and romances, spent a lot of time in westerns giving merry hell to John Wayne (and less merry hell to the indomitable John Ford — she held her own even when he was verbally abusive and demeaning to her). She was in The Quiet Man, which was the first American-made film entirely filmed in a foreign country. She helped make American Christmas what it is with Miracle on 34th Street. She played a lineup of headstrong, forthright women second only, perhaps, to Katharine Hepburn. She was married three times, lived for a while with a boyfriend in Mexico, sued for custody of her daughter in the 1950s, AND sued a magazine for libel in the same era. After mostly retiring from acting, she edited a magazine. She eventually sold the magazine to spend more time with her grandson, but even then ran a ladies fashion store. She was an outspoken, brilliant, passionate lady, with amazing red hair, a career to envy, and — well — that face!

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Maureen O'Hara:

I thought she was one of the most beautiful women in the world when I was a kid and I have yet to really change my mind. Always loved her temper and her red hair. Plus she was kind of a MILF in The Parent Trap

Haughty, red hair, hot.

I would have to give up my passport if I didn't submit Maureen O'Hara but also have you seen her? Not only did she look like that (she was called the Queen of Technicolor, though she wasn't a big fan of that sobriquet), she was also very funny and tough as nails. She faced off against Walt Disney in a contract dispute and the legend goes that when someone mentioned her at his deathbed, he sat up and said 'That bitch!'. Her comment on that story is "At least he didn't think of me and say, 'That wimp'." She struggled to get serious roles for a time, saying ""Hollywood would never allow my talent to triumph over my face," so she plays the sexy princess/pirate/harem girl in a LOT of early movies that she referred to as "Tits and Sand" films, she being the tits in question. She also turned down so many leading men and studio bosses (Errol Flynn and Howard Hughes are among her rejects) that there were rumours spread that she was a lesbian. Many egos were battered it seems. I'm including the infamous Lady Godiva scene in the photo propaganda for the sheer Moment of it [link] . It was a bit of a flop critically, but it was one of Clint Eastwood's first film appearances and she said he told her later that he was very glad of the money at the time.

She was a very proud Irish woman and when she went for her American citizenship they insisted on referring to her as British (the timeline of Irish independence is a bit wibbly wobbly, we won't get into it here). She refused to accept American citizenship under that condition and argued her way through every level of US immigration she could find, supposedly saying "I'm not responsible for your antiquated records here in Washington", until a judge finally gave up and said "Give her what she wants, just get her out of here". This made her the first ever person seeking US citizenship to be proclaimed Irish on the record!

The hair. The accent. The figure. The acting chops. The perfection.

#maureen o'hara #maría félix #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 2

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yuna542 · 1 year

Text

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 5 <-

Part 6

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, under 18 DNI!, Smut, Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Fingering, Dry humping, mentions of sex, pet names

Word Count: 3k

Note: Yea… What can I say? Lee Know was my first Kpop Crush, so I really put my soul into this. So hear me out: I thought since your feedback is incredible, I wanted to give you something back. If you want to you can write suggestions/requests in the comments or dm me about what you'd like to read in the parts. If I like it I will think of something and include it in the story! So feel free to tell me your dirty (or sweet) little fantasies xD

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

"I finally want to see you dance live!", grumbled Lee Know as you emailed him his schedule for the day in the practice room.

"Maybe someday", you muttered as you skimmed over your messages.

“Stupid JYP with those stupid rules”, he sighed and you had to grin. You'd love to dance and maybe even do a livestream with Minho but the company probably wouldn't allow it. The Stream with Hyunjin was a spontaneous idea and you were sincerely happy that yet nobody from JYP had talked about it to you. You didn’t even know if they maybe had a talk with Hyunjin and you were sure, that he definitely wouldn’t tell you to protect you.

However one of the most important meetings was scheduled for this afternoon.

A meeting with a potential new sponsor and at the same time producer for the first music video of the comeback. So one of the most important meetings ever.

The first video had to work the way the guys imagined it and it was your job to make it work. It was essential that the new sponsor was on board.

To say you're nervous would be a massive understatement.

It was the first big meeting that you would have to do alone with Chan. Seungmin would also accompany you, which took some of the pressure off your shoulders. This was one thing you just couldn't mess up.

You just wanted to send Lee Know his appointments for today and skim them quick with him. The tasks consisted the meeting with a new choreographer and then discussing with DanceRacha whether their ideas for the choreography for the big video could be done as they wanted it or if they needed to work on it even more.

Hyunjin and Felix had both already written in your group chat that they were here at any moment and Jeongin was with them. As you walked into the room, Minho seemed to have been dancing all morning.

There were fine drops of sweat on his forehead and yet his skin was just glowing with freshness. Just like perfectly worked marble.

"The choreographer's name is Chun De-Jeong. His application was the most impressive and he has very good references. He sounded nice on the phone, too. But if you don't like something about him, just let me know and we'll find someone new”, you explained expertly and he smiled slightly.

"You really are the best manager we've ever had."

"I try my best", you replied, and that's when he sat down next to you on the sofa.

With that, you finished discussing his schedule as well.

"I've never seen you in a dress like that before...", he mused aloud, and right away you were tugging at the hem of the white fabric on your thigh.

"Is it too much? Do you think it would be better if I change?"

Concerned, you stroke the fine roses printed on the fabric. Directly, Lee Know shook his head, regretting his words.

"No. It's perfect. You are... It looks very cute. You look very beautiful", he said quickly, stumbling over his own words.

Actually, he couldn't take his eyes off the thin fabric the whole time, where it perfectly hugged your curves and sat firmly against your waist. Exploring your profile, Minho noticed from the moment you came in that you seemed tense and restless today.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Quickly nodding, you shove your Ipad into your handbag next to the sofa.

"Yeah... Everything's fine. I'm just a little nervous about the meeting today."

"With that spoiled ass sponsor?"

You nodded again, kneading your hands restlessly in your lap. Carefully he puts one hand on yours and managed to cover both of your cramped hands with his.

Instead of a joke or a mean comment that you would have expected, his voice softened and he squeezed your hands reassuringly.

"You don't have to be nervous. Business people like that are often strange and not exactly sociable. They are assholes, but you're so adorable that he surely won’t refuse any of your wishes."

A worried sigh wrings itself from your throat and you finally managed to look him in the eye. Only now did he recognize the great concern on your face and moved instantly closer to you.

"What if I don't? What if I mess up and you lose a major sponsor because of me? They will fire me..."

His chocolate brown eyes seemed protective, eyeing you with such confidence that you wanted to snuggle up to him. He placed his other hand on your thigh and gently stroked it.

"You won't mess up. And even if it won't work out, we'll find another sponsor."

A soft laugh escaped you as he quoted you, and he too smiled in relief when he saw that energetic sparkle in your eyes again.

Minho was suddenly so gentle and caring in a way you had never witnessed. In front of the others, he always tried to appear tough and untouchable, always had a cheeky comment on his lips and seemed to let nothing upset him.

But right now his other side appeared. His touches were careful on your skin, as if he feared to break you and he was full of care. It’s a side of him that he reserved just for you.

You intertwined your hand with his and squeezed it gently. As you did so, your thighs were tight against each other and he gave you endless confidence with just that. He believed in you and that alone was such a big ego boost.

Your heart began to melt and your eyes were automatically on his engaging lips.

"Thank you Lino. That really helped. I didn’t know you could be so soft.”

Suddenly his facial expression changed. He looked confused, as if he had woken up from a dream, and quickly smiled again in amusement.

"That being said, you have Chan with you. He's gotten each of us out of trouble several times."

There he was again. The tough Lee Know, and he wondered to himself why he had suddenly gone so soft. It was your mere presence that made him protective. He enjoyed feeling your warm skin and seeing the happy twinkle in your beautiful eyes.

In fact, he managed to make you laugh again and it sounded better than music to his ears.

"Don't worry too much. We definitely won't give you back, kitten."

His hand squeezed your own protectively and it touched you that he dropped his walls in front of you. Without thinking, you leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

You just could not have expressed your gratitude with words.

However, he froze completely and before you could pull away, he grabbed your face rougher than he wanted to. Firmly, he pulled you closer and it took you a few seconds to realise that his lips were already on yours.

Overwhelmed, you clenched your hands until you could feel his pleasant grip on your hip. The other hand was on your cheek and when you finally understood, you put all the desire and concern into the kiss.

At first he was slow, savoring every second until he took your lower lip between his teeth and let his tongue brush over it. As soon as you opened your lips a little, he pushed his tongue into your mouth and deepened the kiss with his whole body.

He seemed like an addict who couldn't get enough and became more and more impetuous. He tasted like a heady mix of sweet strawberries and spicy mint.

Finally he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you onto his lap, where he didn't stop licking his tongue into your mouth. Your hands went into his hair and tugged on his strands. His hands went on a ramble, pushing your dress up until he could firmly grip your ass.

A small squeak of pain escaped you as he squeezed tightly and you felt the corners of his mouth lift at your lips despite your eyes being closed.

"You even purr like a little kitten", he growled and you were completely caught in a trance of arousal and passion as he began to spread wet kisses on your collarbone. He sucked on your skin and pushed you demanding against his lap.

The little sighs and your tensed face made the blood rush between his legs and he wanted to fuck you right there against the couch. But he also loved to tease you until you would whimper and beg him to fuck you senseless. That made the painful erection in his pants much more worth it. His hand lightly brushed your thigh dangerously close to your core.

His tongue licked along your collarbone, down to your cleavage, where he slowly pulled the fabric down and worked on your soft skin so intensely with his mouth that you feared just coming from it on his lap.

The bruises Hyunjin had sucked into your skin were almost gone and Minho wanted to make sure, to mark you again so that the other members would see it. He wanted them to know that you were already his little toy and that they had to make a great effort, to get to him.

Overwhelmed, you felt his bulge feel frighteningly large beneath you and immediately you wanted to see if it was really as immense as it felt on your covered pussy. The straps of your white dress fell off your shoulders and Minho's hands kneaded the flesh on your ass so hard that you would definitely get bruises. But that only fueled the arousal in your whole body.

"Admit it, Kitten! You only put on that cute slutty dress to drive me crazy!", he murmured against your skin, and everything about him made you dizzy. A hard hiss escaped him and he looked up at you with an exited bliss in his eyes.

“Damn didn’t thought you’re so fucking needy, Baby.”

With questioning eyes you let your fingers go trough his soft hair.

“What?”

“You’re grinding on me”, he explained and kissed the heated skin of your almost bare tits.

Suddenly, you became aware of your own body, feeling him underneath you and trying to feel as much of him as you can. You feel pleasant heat spread through your body, pooling together between your legs where you were far too effected by the feeling of his erection beneath you and somehow you still couldn’t make yourself stop, even though he looked at you with a teasing smile.

“Oh god. I’m sorry”, you murmured against his neck, but then, you felt his hands wrap around your hips further, fingers digging into the side of your ass, and you realised he’s helping you guide your hips.

He smelled so good that you just couldn’t stop rolling your hips against his.

“No need to apologise. That’s so fucking hot”, he growled and pulled your chin back, to kiss you deeply, while he pushed you even further against his hard bulge.

”That’s it, there you go“, he said softly as you moan into his mouth and started to move your hips against his length and you couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering, when the only thing between your clit and his dick was the thin fabric of your clothes.

Suddenly his voice is right by your ear and snaps you out of your aroused trance, so close it sends shivers down your spine:

”You should have told me you like dry humping my dick this much. Fuck, it makes me so hard, can you feel that, kitten?“

You could just nod and get flustered by his words.

Your behaviour was so messy and desperate, even Minho started to lose himself and he kissed you as if he’s never kissed before. It’s more tongue and teeth than needed, tasting you and moaning into your mouth when your tongue meets his. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. Someone could come in an catch you, how you pounce on each other like heated teenagers, but the hurried kisses make your head feel like it’s spinning.

It hasn’t been long, you know that, but you’re already started to get close. Like with Hyunjin, you felt things that you never had experienced before. There was something about these boys that made you go crazy and they definitely knew what they were doing.

Even though your underwear and his sweatpants were seperating you from feeling him, there was something so intense about this and about Minho that it hardly mattered, and you knew it won’t be long until he would get you making a mess in your panties.

Unable to keep up with how good it felt, luckily Minho still had a hold on you, and when he noticed that it’s getting more difficult for you to keep composed, he gripped your flesh even harder.

Embarrassed you hid your face in the crook of his neck as he guided you by the hips harder and harder against his hard dick. With one hand he pulled you back by the nape of the neck so that you had to look at him while you dry humped him like a kitty in heat.

"No hiding! I wanna see every adorable flustered expression you make!”, he demanded with a harsh tone, both of you trying to pull the other closer for more stimulation. Your hands still groped and scratched at eachothers skin as you desperately grinded on eachother.

He slipped one hand to your throbbing cunt and started to circle your clit, while you tried to get more friction. He was so hard by now that your mere movements on his dick almost made him come. But he did force himself to calm down because he just wanted to work you to an orgasm and see your beautiful face tensed with desire just for him.

”Don’t stop!“, he ordered and his harsh tone made you whimper.

”I want you to be good and cum for me like this, okay? Can you do that, kitten?“

As soon as he hit the sensitive part of your clit directly with his fingers, a naughty moan escaped you and you started to ride your cunt so hard against his cock that you had to claw your fingernails into his back.

“Fuck… Minho”, you cried and couldn’t think of something else than your high which was announced by the tremendous heat in your lower abdomen.

"Aw, you like that, baby?", he chirped with a growl and guided your hips so that he would still hit all your sweet spots through the fabric. You nodded, unable to speak, rocking your hips even harder against him and his fingers.

He pushed his fingers against your clit and noticed how your body tensed. Directly he accelerated the intensity and held your face tightly again with one hand in front of his so he could look at your teary eyes, swollen lips and aroused expression as he worked you to your orgasm with just the snapping of his hips and his hand. You wanted him as close as possibly and somehow this, his mouth mere millimeters from yours, swallowing your breath, wasn’t enough.

“I’m gonna cum…”, you whimpered and he hold your face even rougher, digging his fingernails into your soft cheeks.

“Look how easy it is to turn you into the neediest, sluttiest mess, kitten”, he growled and pressed you firmly onto his throbbing dick. The wet spot on his pants was already as big as a hand, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oh I can’t wait to fuck that soaked little cunt till you cry my name all night!“

Your hands clawed for some type of, literally any, support on his shoulders while he grabbed your ass harsh.

„Be a good little slut and come for me!“, he demanded and his words twisted your mind.

Eventually you got so caught up in the moment you won’t even were able to stay focused on talking, and he started thrusting up, meeting your hips so you didn’t have to do any work. It’s this that finally does it for you, his hands holding you and his hips meeting yours and you automatically imagine how he would fuck you like this. You wanted more and more, caught up in his scent, his words and his body and finally your orgasm crashed over you.

He helped you to ride your high out and gently brushed his hand over your back.

"Feel better now?", he asked and kissed each corner of your mouth.

„Yes… Thank you, Minho.“

A little huff escaped your lips, while you still rubbed your overstimulated pussy against his length. The friction felt too good to stop, even though your soaked cunt was now extremely sensitive. He laughed lightly and ran his hands through your hair as you let your lips brush over his neck

„Greedy but polite. I like that“, he teased and kneaded your ass again. He couldn’t get enough of the perfect curves and the softness of your skin against his fingertips.

„I want you to fuck me, Minho“, you mumbled against his skin and kissed the sensitive spot on his neck beneath his ear. He instantly got goosebumps and in response he moved your hips again more firmly against his now painful hard length.

He would not and could not wait any longer. He longed to sink into your wet core and fuck you so hard until you begged him to stop. Therefore, he reached for his waistband and pulled it down. With a liberated gasp, his boner popped out and you had to bite your lower lip when you realized that it was even bigger than it had felt through the fabric. He would split you open, but you didn't care. Impatiently he pushed your panties aside and as he slipped into your aching core with just the tip, you already felt, how he stretched you out. Slowly you grinded your hips against his, gasping as only his tip filled you painfully good.

You were so dizzy that you almost didn't notice how the door to the practice room were opened and Hyunjin, Jeongin, and Felix walked in.

It wasn't until Minho glanced over your shoulder in annoyance. Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the boys staring at you over your shoulder.

Hyunjin looked at you with a amused, yet unsurprised grin. Felix stared open-mouthed at your naked ass with the white thong on that Minho still had a firm grip on, and Jeongin looked perplexed but definitely aroused by the way you ass was wiggling and grinding against his friends dick.

In fact, the three were more than grateful to have burst into this situation.

"Can't you knock?", Minho spat at them, leaning his forehead against the crook of your neck to breathe in your sweet scent once more. His tip was already in your cunt and he considered, if he should just don‘t give a fuck about the others and push himself all the way into you. If he did that, he'd probably fuck you in front of them too. He already had to fight against his desire but your shocked face made him weak.

Hectically, you tugged your dress back down and adjusted the straps on your shoulders, while he slowly slipped out of you and tugged his dick into his pants.

"We've been knocking, calling and messaging", Felix said meekly, unable to get the image of Minho's hands all over you out of his head and immediately imagining what it would be like to have you sitting on his lap like that, riding his dick and moaning his name.

He cleared his throat and stared at the floor, trying not to get a boner in front of everyone like a needy little schoolboy.

"Yeah... but you seem to have been too busy. Obviously…”, Hyunjin said and his smile was breathtaking.

Minho let you off his lap only after a short resistance and cursed his members quietly. Jeongin was still frozen, looking at you as if you had just flown from heaven to earth.

Embarrassed, you fixed your hair, not resisting Hyunjin's intense gaze. To Felix, you almost wanted to apologize as his head glowed so much you could barely distinguish it from the red walls.

"You guys have to fuck everything up", Lee Know grumbled, leaning forward so they couldn't see the wet spot and the huge bulge in his sweatpants directly.

"We're really sorry, but we need you, Lino. We need to finally start working the choreography out."

Even though Hyunjin's eyes continued to rest on your boobs, he spoke normally to Minho. Gradually, your heartbeat calmed down and you tried to ignore what just happened. They almost caught you, fucking in the practice room. Anyone could have come in but Minho didn’t seem to care at all.

"You look stunning by the way, Jagi", Hyunjin said then and pulled you close to his chest. With his hands lingering on your back, he kissed you quickly. He just couldn’t resist you. The kiss was short but intense and you returned his smile with rosy cheeks.

"Yes. The dress is beautiful on you", Felix agreed and his cuteness sent butterflies in your stomach.

"Thank you. You guys are really sweet."

Jeongin still couldn't get a word out and shoved his hands into his pockets. Suddenly, you remembered something.

Panicking, you searched your phone in your bag and almost had a second heart attack as you read first the time and then Chan's messages where he asked when you guys are going to meet to prepare for the meeting.

"Shit!" you cursed, gathering your things. Along the way, you slipped on your Converse Chucks that you had left by the sofa.

"I have to go see Chan right now. Do you know where he is?"

Hyunjin shrugged and connected his phone to the stereo.

"He was still here this morning", Lee Know said from behind you.

Felix nodded and Hyunjin glanced over his shoulder briefly and replied:

"Yes, but left again around 10 o'clock."

Then Jeongin said:

"He was just at the dorm."

„Okay, Well shit. I'll go there then. We have the meeting in an hour. Fucking hell..."

As you storm out, a few more not so ladylike curses slipped out, due to the stress. The guys looked after you and Hyunjin sighed loudly.

"Is it just me, or is she even outrageously hot when she curses like a sailor?"

Lee Know snorted in amusement and the other two could only agree. Then Hyunjin looked back at Lee Know with a knowing grin.

Still irritated, he snapped at him:

"What?"

Hyunjin pouted his lips and shook his head defensively.

"Nothing. Just wondering why you decided to fuck her in the practice room, in the middle of the day, where anyone could have come in.“

„Thanks to you I didn't even get to fuck her yet“, he said sourly and the boys knew, that Lee Know would go hard on them today. He almost were able to fuck the hottest girl he ever met, and of course his stupid members had to screw it up.

"The choreographer is here“, Felix said, glancing at his phone.

"Do you want me to bring him in? He's been waiting for a while", Jeongin asked, to which Lee Know stood up, his hands in front of the big tent in his pants.

"Tell him he'll have to wait a few more minutes if he doesn't want to blow me."

Felix pressed his lips together and Jeongin looked at him in amazement, while Hyunjin laughed. As the door slammed shut behind Lee Know, Jeongin said monotonously:

"I definitely won't tell him that."

-> Part 7

——————————————————————-

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onlyonetifosi · 11 months

Text

2 part to: The engineer

It was a sunny morning in Monaco, and Yn Leclerc sat at the breakfast table with her family. Her mother, Pascale, had just finished serving them a delicious meal, and now they were engaging in light conversation before Yn's graduation ceremony.

"Je suis tellement fière de toi, ma chérie," Pascale said, placing a hand on Yn's arm. "You've worked so hard for this day."

Yn smiled gratefully at her mother. "Merci, Maman. I couldn't have done it without your support."

Her brothers, Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, nodded in agreement. They knew how dedicated Yn had been throughout her engineering studies, juggling her academic responsibilities and her part-time job.

Lorenzo spoke up, his voice filled with admiration. "Yn, tu es vraiment la plus intelligente d'entre nous. We're lucky to have you as our sister."

Yn's heart warmed at her brothers' words. She had always been proud of their achievements in motorsports, but sometimes, she couldn't help feeling a pang of insecurity. Being the only sibling pursuing higher education, she had often felt left out of their racing world.

"Merci, Lorenzo," Yn replied, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I'm proud of all of you too, but sometimes I wish I could have been a part of the racing journey as well."

Charles, who had become an established Formula 1 driver, reached across the table and grasped Yn's hand. "Yn, we love and support you in everything you do. Racing might be our passion, but we know how hard you've worked for your degree."

Arthur chimed in, his tone sincere. "Exactly! We wouldn't be where we are without your unwavering support and encouragement. You're an integral part of our success."

Yn's eyes welled up with tears, and she squeezed Charles and Arthur's hands. "Thank you, both of you. I'm so lucky to have such amazing brothers."

Pascale, ever the nurturing mother, rose from her seat. "Enough of the mushy talk, mes enfants! We have a graduation to prepare for."

The family spent the next few hours together, helping Yn get ready for her big day. Pascale, a talented hairdresser, skillfully styled Yn's hair, creating an elegant updo. She then applied subtle makeup to enhance Yn's natural beauty.

As Yn looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a sense of confidence radiating from within. She was ready to face the world, armed with her education and the unwavering support of her family.

The graduation ceremony took place in a grand auditorium, with friends, faculty, and fellow students gathered to celebrate their achievements.

"Y/N Leclerc, s'il vous plaît, venez sur scène" Y/N's name was called, a sense of accomplishment washed over her. She gracefully walked across the stage, accepting her degree with honors from her professor, Madame Moreau. The audience erupted in applause, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards her family, especially her late father, who had instilled in her a passion for knowledge.

Y/N took a deep breath and made her way to the stage. Applause filled the room as she accepted her diploma with a radiant smile. In that moment, all her hard work and sacrifices felt worth it.

After the graduates received their diplomas, Y/N was invited to give a speech on behalf of her class. Standing at the podium, she felt a surge of confidence.

"Mesdames et messieurs, aujourd'hui, nous célébrons nos réalisations en tant qu'ingénieurs. Je tiens à remercier ma famille pour leur amour et leur soutien sans faille. Nous sommes tous ici grâce aux sacrifices de ceux qui nous ont précédé. En premier lieu, je tiens à remercier ma famille pour m'avoir soutenue tout au long de ce parcours. Votre amour inconditionnel m'a donné la force de poursuivre mes rêves. Aujourd'hui, je suis fière de dire que j'ai obtenu mon diplôme d'ingénieur avec mention." (Ladies and gentlemen, today we celebrate our achievements as engineers. I would like to thank my family for their unwavering love and support. We are all here because of the sacrifices of those who came before us. First I would like to thank my family for supporting me throughout this journey. Your unconditional love has given me the strength to pursue my dreams. Today, I am proud to say that I have graduated with honors as an engineer)

Her voice resonated through the auditorium, carrying her message of gratitude and determination. She acknowledged the challenges they had overcome and the dreams they now pursued.

"Nous sommes la preuve vivante que peu importe d'où nous venons, nous pouvons atteindre nos objectifs avec passion et détermination. Ne laissez jamais les obstacles vous décourager, et souvenez-vous que vous n'êtes jamais seuls. Aujourd'hui, nous sommes ici ensemble, en tant qu'une famille d'ingénieurs" (We are living proof that no matter where we come from, we can achieve our goals with passion and determination. Never let obstacles get in the way of you, and remember that you are never alone. Today, we are here together, as a family of engineers)

As Y/N concluded her speech, the room erupted into applause. The pride on her family's faces was immeasurable. Y/N had not only graduated with honors, but she had also inspired her peers.

Her family erupted into applause, their cheers blending with the thunderous applause of the crowd. Yn could see familiar faces in the audience, including some F1 drivers who had become friends with the little Leclerc because of Charles such as Max Verstappen, with his signature grin lighting up his face, stood up and clapped enthusiastically, Lando Norris and Pierre Gasly joined in the applause, their support evident.

Yn's heart swelled with gratitude. She had found her place, not on the racetrack but among these incredible individuals who recognized her dedication and achievements.

After the ceremony, the Leclerc family gathered for a joyous celebration. Laughter filled the air as they toasted to Yn's success. The F1 drivers joined in, sharing stories and lighthearted banter.

"Merci d'être toujours là pour moi. Je vous aime tous. (Thank you for always being there for me. I love you all)” yn said raising her glass, and the room was filled with cheers, laughter, and heartfelt conversations.

As the evening wore on, Yn found herself in a quiet corner of the room, reflecting on the day's events. She could feel her father's presence with them, despite his absence. He had instilled in them the values of love, unity, and unwavering support.

Charles approached Yn, a soft smile gracing his face. "You did it, Yn. Dad would have been so proud."

Yn nodded, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes. "I know, Charles. Today, I felt his love surrounding us."

The Leclerc siblings shared a warm embrace, a moment of connection and understanding that surpassed words. In that moment, they knew that their father's spirit lived on within each of them, binding them together through their shared experiences and unwavering support.

And so, the Leclerc family celebrated into the night, cherishing the triumphs, overcoming the challenges, and reaffirming their unbreakable bond. Together, they stood as a testament to the power of love, support, and the pursuit of dreams.

#f1 imagine #charles leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x sister!reader #arthur leclerc x sister!reader #leclerc!reader #f2 imagine #f1 drivers x reader #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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mysteryshoptls · 4 days

Text

R Rook Hunt - Suitor Suit Voice Lines

Summon Line: Those who would fight for love are all beautiful!

Groooovy!!: I am a hunter. And thus, I am good at capturing hearts.

Home: What do think? Do I seem princely?

Home Idle 1: Marriage, hm... For someone as fickle as me whose eyes and heart can be taken in by any and all beauty I see, it may still be too early to even consider.

Home Idle 2: When someone runs, it makes me want to chase after them! It seems like love and hunting have similar aspects.

Home Idle 3: Things that are beautiful are so precious to me. However, looks alone is not what determines that.

Home Idle - Login: What form of love language makes your heart race? Please, let me know!

Home Tap 1: I love crafting poems. But there aren't ever enough words to convey my feelings... Ahh, how frustrating!

Home Tap 2: Ace-kun seems to hold such passion in his heart. When I complimented as such, he denied it... But still, it is all so très bien!

Home Tap 3: I selected a tuxedo similar in color to my dorm uniform. I thought it the best choice to honor our fallen Vil...

Home Tap 4: Look at how Roi des Roses is so sharp and intense! It looks as though Riddle-kun completely embodies a crimson rose with prickly thorns!

Home Tap 5: You've such energy. If I were to be with you every day, there's no doubt that it would be a grand time.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #rook hunt #twst rook #twst translation #twst ghost marriage #mention: ace #mention: vil #mention: riddle

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fashionbooksmilano · 4 months

Text

La passion des Roses

Sylvie Girard - Lagorce

Photographies de Christian Sarramon

Stylisme de Nello Renault

Flammarion, Paris 2000, 168 pages, 21,8x28,3cm, ISBN 978-2082019705

euro 40,00

email if you want to buy [email protected]

Célèbre la beauté de la rose, ses couleurs, ses parfums, son éclat, de la simple haie de jardin aux somptueuses roses anglaises, sans oublier l'eau de rose, les roses en soie, de porcelaine ou de sucre.

La rose... Fleur mythique, fleur mystique, sa beauté a été consacrée par les plus grands artistes. Peintres, sculpteurs, écrivains de tous temps lui ont dédié leurs plus beaux chefs-d'œuvre, car la rose suscite l'inspiration créatrice des plus grands. De la Rome antique à l'ère contemporaine, elle n'a cessé de fasciner les jardiniers les plus illustres qui ont à chaque fois tenté de sublimer sa beauté en créant des variétés aux senteurs et aux couleurs incomparables. Du rose au rouge en passant par le jaune et l'orange, la robe de la rose se décline en plusieurs couleurs aux significations les plus exquises. Si la véritable vocation de la rose est d'embaumer et d'embellir nos jardins, il n'en reste pas moins qu'elle a peu à peu envahi nos maisons et nos vies. La rose décore nos murs, s'invite dans nos assiettes, parfume nos corps et nos âmes et ravit nos sens jusqu'aux confins de l'art culinaire. Laissez-vous emporter par son parfum et sa magie inscrits dans chaque ligne de cet ouvrage qui lui est entièrement consacré.

21/01/24

#passion des roses #flowers books #fleur mytique #fleur mystique #peintures #tissus #inspiration créatrice #fashionbooksmilano

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peonierose · 8 months

Text

Masterlist

Open Heart

Set after OH ended

Pink Lemonade ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary:

Las hijas de Luna ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: It’s time for Luna and Bryce to welcome their twins into the world. Will there be any complications? Or will the birth go without a hitch?

Don‘t call me Angel ☁️ | - Characters involved: Luna Auclair (F!OC - OH), Bryce Lahela (M!MC - OH), Tobias Carrick (M!MC - OH, Maxwell Beaumont (M!MC - TRR) and Bertrand Beaumont (M!MC - TRR)

Summary: Luna helps Tobias to polish his image. Will she be successful?

Losing Game (4/4) 📚 🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce and Luna have worked things out. But there is still one visit to make before Bryce and Luna find closure.

Losing Game (3/4) 📚 🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce visited his dad in prison and now he and Luna are oceans apart, but after a scare during his surgery he can only think of one person to call.

Losing Game (2/4) 📚 🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce comes back from visiting his father in prison. Though he didn’t tell Luna. Will things work out between them? Or will they drift further apart?

Losing Game (1/4) 📚 🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce visits his dad in prison. How will that go? Will they reunite or will they stay apart forever?

Summer‘s Kiss ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Luna and Bryce enjoy a bit of alone time together by Manoa Falls.

I‘m a Sucker for You ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela

Summary: Bryce and Luna spend some time on Valentine‘s Day (even though they’re not the biggest Valentine’s Day fans). With one or two presents in between.

Rosé all Day ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Keiki Lahela (F!MC), Evie Auclair (F!OC), Soraya Auclair (F!OC), Meilani Leahi (F!OC) and Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: It’s Maxines birthday on February 14th, but Luna knows that Maxine doesn’t like Valentine‘s day. So she and the girls spend some quality time together. Drinking eating, and playing some games.

Looks like Pizza to me ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Soraya Auclair (F!OC), Evie Auclair (FOC), Skyler Auclair (M!OC)

Summary: Luna, her cousins Soraya, Evie and Sky make pizza and debate if pineapple belong on pizza or not. Who will win the debate?

Cake by the Ocean ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Before Bryce and Luna get a special surprise before their cake testing. Are they ready for this next step in their relationship?

A Pinch of Pink and Blue...This one's for you ☁️🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce and Luna have the talk about trying for kids. Are they ready for that yet?

Go Blonder ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce makes a bet with Jackie. What happens if he loses?

I Do ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Hayley. Valentine-Ramsey (F!MC)

Summary: Bryce, Luna and their friends and family were invited to attend Ethan and Hayley‘s wedding.

My Love won't let you down ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Soraya Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Skyler Auclair (M!OC) and Evie Auclair (F!OC)

Summary: Soraya is heartbroken. Luna, Bryce and Luna's cousin Sky and Evie help her go through it.

Paint Wars ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce and Luna turn painting into an afternoon of fun.

A new Chapter ☁️ 🎭 📱 | - Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Keiki Lahela (F!MC), Luna Auclair (F!OC) and Dylan Yu (M!OC)

Summary: It’s prom night for Keiki, but it’s not exactly how she pictured it would go.

'How were we ever strangers...' ☁️ 🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Luna wants to ask Bryce to marry her, not knowing Bryce wants to ask her too. Will they get a chance to ask each other?

By a Landslide ☁️ 🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce and Luna take a trip to Hawaii, though they have a tough decision to make.

'I'll love you through the Madness, babe' ☁️ 🎭 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: It’s Henry's anniversary, Bryce's best friend. Someone at work made some nasty comments and Bryce got into a fight. Luna tries to cheer him up a bit.

Go with the Flow ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce gets Luna to try out surfing. It doesn't go as planned.

Always & Forever ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Luna decides to get a tattoo. But she's scared to get one alone so Bryce goes with her.

Only Love ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce shows Luna how to french braid, since she can't do it.

Cinnamon Sugar ☁️ | - Maxine Moore (F!OC) x Adam Sinclair (M!OC)

Summary: Maxine go out on their first date. How will it go? Will sparks fly or will it be a flop?

Bittersweet Symphony ☁️ | - Maxine Moore (F!OC) x Adam Sinclair (M!OC)

Summary: Maxine’s & Adams relationship goes a step further. Will they become official? Or will it take them more time?

Kintsugi ☁️ 🎭 Ⓜ️ | - Maxine Moore (F!OC) x Adam Sinclair (M!OC)

Summary: Maxine has trouble with anxiety and depression. Adam shows up to help her through it. As well as her best friend Luna.

Wildflower ☁️ | - Keiki Lahela (F!MC) x Koa Haulani (M!OC)

Summary: Keiki who still struggles with trusting guys and entering a new relationship after Dylan broke her heart. That's when she meets Koa. Will she give him a chance or will she let her fear of getting hurt win and therefore miss out on a great connection with Koa?

Dear John ☁️ | - Keiki Lahela (F!MC) x Koa Haulani (M!OC)

Summary: Keiki and Koa find love letters on the beach and try to find who they belong to. Meanwhile they are exploring where they're relationship and feelings lie.

Mona Lisa ☁️ 📱| - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Luna and Bryce have a fun tex t exchange between them, involving coffee.

Nightmare before Christmas ☁️ 📱 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Bryce and Luna have a debate if Nightmare before Christmas is a Halloween or Christmas movie.

Hau’oli la Heleui ☁️ 📱- Luna Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Keiki Lahela (F!MC) and more

Summary: Luna, Bryce and their friends and family celebrate Halloween.

Viva Las Vegas ☁️ 📱 🌈 | - Soraya Auclair (F!OC) x Meilani Leihi (F!OC)

Summary: Two beautiful people are getting married and start a new chapter in their lives.

Pumpkin Spice ☁️ 📱 | - Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Luna Auclair (F!OC) and more

Summary: It’s fall time meaning Luna and Bryce celebrate Halloween with their friends and family.

Pink Champagne - Part 2 ☁️ 📱 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC) and more

Pink Champagne - Part 1 ☁️ 📱 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC) and more

Summary: Luna and her friends celebrate her birthday and her bachelorette party. Going away on a trip to Greece.

Best asked question ☁️ 📱 | - Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Keiki Lahela (F!MC), Luna Auclair (F!OC), Maxine Moore (F!OC), Evie Auclair (F!OC), Soraya Auclair (F!OC)

Summary: Bryce and Luna have very important questions to ask.

My number One ☁️ 📱 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Keiki Lahela (F!MC)

Summary: If Luna and Bryce were a Disney couple which one would they be?

Sunshine ☀️ - ☁️ 📱 | - Luna Auclair, Bryce Lahela, Keiki Lahela, Maxine Moore, Grace Auclair, Skylar Auclair, Soraya Auclair, Evie Auclair

Summary: Luna, Bryce, their family and friends celebrate Brian, Luna's dad's birthday.

Mother's Day - 📱| - Luna Auclair, Bryce Lahela, Keiki Lahela, Maxine Moore, Grace Auclair, Skylar Auclair, Soraya Auclair, Evie Auclair and more

Summary: Just a few picta edits for Mother‘s Day 💐 Enjoy 😊

Homecoming Part 2 📱 | - Luna Auclair, Bryce Lahela, Keiki Lahela and more

Summary: It’s Bryce’s Birthday. Meaning celebrating and opening presents.

Homecoming Part 1 - ☁️ 📱 | - Luna Auclair, Bryce Lahela, Keiki Lahela and more

Summary: It’s not only Bryce and Luna moving back to Hawaii…it’s also Bryce’s Birthday on April, 16th (Yes, I took my own birthday and used it for Bryce’s as well)

Shamrock Kisses - ☁️ 📱 | - Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Luna Auclair (F!OC), Maxine Moore (F!OC), Keiki Lahela (F!MC) and Hayley Valentine (F!MC)

Summary: It’s Saint Patrick’s Day and the group‘s celebrating 🥳

L-O-V-E - ☁️ 📱 | - Luna Auclair (F!OC), Bryce Lahela (M!MC), Keiki Lahela (F!MC)

Summary: Bryce, Luna, Keiki and their friends celebrate valentines day.

Let them eat...healthy? 📱 | - Characters involved: Bryce Lahela, Luna Auclair, Keiki Lahela, Maxine, Dylan Yu.

Summary: Bryce tries to motivate everyone to eat more healthy.

❗️On Hiatus ❗️

Nightbound vs. Hänsel & Gretel

Introduction Ⓜ️ | -Gretel van Andresen (F!OC) and Hänsel van Andresen (M!OC)

Chapter 1: Wake up Little Susie Ⓜ️ | - Gretel van Andresen (F!OC) and Hänsel van Andresen (M!OC)

Summary: Hänsel and Gretel two amazing supernatural hunters are working on a new case that leads them to New Orleans and to old friends. So let the good times roll.

Chapter 2: Strange Encounters Ⓜ️ | - Gretel van Andresen (F!OC), Hänsel van Andresen (M!OC), Nik (M!MC), Katherine (F!MC) and Garros (M!MC)

Summary: Hänsel and Gretel arrive in New Orleans and meet some old friends. Will they be able to help them with the case?

Chapter 3: Unexpected Ⓜ️ | - Gretel van Andresen (F!OC), Hänsel van Andresen (M!OC), Grey (M!OC), Vi (F!OC) and Vine (

Summary: Hänsel and Gretel are now in New Orleans. Looking for clues. They’ll encounter someone new. Friend or Foe?

Once TNA & OH Crossover

Sam Dalton (M!MC), Addison Dalton (F!MC), Ethan Ramsey (M!MC) and Robin Flores (M!MC)

Summary: Addison has stage four ovarian cancer. So Sam and Addi seek a consultation with Dr. Ethan Ramsey at Edenbrook. Will they make it in time?

Part (1/5) Ⓜ️ 🎭 | - Sam Dalton (M!MC) x Addison Dalton (F!MC)

Part (2/5) Ⓜ️ 🎭 | - Sam Dalton (M!MC) x Addison Dalton (F!MC)

Part (3/5) Ⓜ️ 🎭 | - Sam Dalton (M!MC), Addison Dalton (F!MC) and Ethan Ramsey (M!MC)

Part (4/5) Ⓜ️ 🎭 | - Sam Dalton (M!MC), Robin Flores (M!MC), Ethan Ramsey (M!MC)

Part (5/5) Ⓜ️ 🎭 | - Sam Dalton (M!MC), and Addison Dalton (F!MC)

Girls Night

Sam Dalton (M!MC), Emma Anderson (F!MC) and more

Summary: The girls have a fun night together, but things don’t go as planned.

Chapter 1 - What's the Secret password - Ⓜ️ | - Emma Anderson (F!MC), Addison Dalton (F!MC) and more

Part 2 - Party like you mean it - Ⓜ️ | - Emma Anderson (F!MC), Addison Dalton (F!MC) and more

Part 3 - Streaking past your neighbors house Ⓜ️ | - Emma Anderson (F!MC), Addison Dalton (F!MC) and more

Part 4 - Epilogue - You & I Ⓜ️ | - Addison Dalton (F!MC) x Robin Flores (M!MC)

The Tell-All

Robin Flores (M!MC)

Summary: Robins Tell-All interview with Serena Knight. Told from his point of view.

Part 1 - Ⓜ️

Part 2 - Ⓜ️

Thankful

Summary: Robin spends thanksgiving with Sam, Emma, Jenny and Addison.

Green Green Mystery Machine | Rose De Luca (F!MC) x Trystan Thorne (M!MC)

Moja Ruža - ☁️ | Rose De Luca (F!MC) x Trystan Thorne (M!MC)

Summary:

Peppermint Kisses | Rose De Luca (F!MC) x Trystan Thorne (M!MC)

Summary: It’s Christmas time and Rose and Trystan spend some time with their family and friends, when their quality time gets interrupted by a pickpocket. Can Rose and Trystan solve the case?

Week 1: All Smiles and Giggles - Luna Auclair (F!OC - Open Heart)

Week 2: Picture this - Hänsel & Gretel (OC‘s - Nightbound)

Week 3: Kala Kala - Luna Auclair (F!OC - Open Heart)

Under Construction 🚧

Other Fics

Both are good 🌈 | - Bryce Lahela (M!MC) x Raleigh Carrera (M!MC)

Colab with @aallotarenunelma

Aallotar's A/N: This project started exactly a month ago, as my great friend Peonie and I were complaining about the lack of fictions about friendship. We discussed and chose a great pair of friends across the Choices universe. Since then, everything has fallen into place, so this fiction is an entry for the Let's Hear it for the Boys event by @choicesficwriterscreations , as well as for the Bi Awareness Week hosted by @choicespride ! This is a labour of love and a lot of fun. Hopefully you'll enjoy it! 💛

Peonie's A/N: I’ve worked on this project with one of my favorite friends, they’ve become one of my closest friends and this is our project. Hope you’ll enjoy this story as much fun as we had writing it 😍💚😚

Set after Open Heart ended

Under the Mistletoe ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Luna and Bryce spend some time with their friends Ethan and Hayley and the open heart gang in Boston.

Neon Lights ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Luna, Bryce and the Open Heart gang go mini golfing. Who will win?

Home is where the heart is ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: It’s Christmas time. Luna and Bryce get visited by Ethan & Hayley. But it looks like Luna gets to fangirl a little first.

Last Christmas...I gave you my heart ☁️ | - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Summary: Luna and Bryce spend their first Christmas together.

Chapter 1 - It's getting...green and merry in here

Chapter 2 - Underneath the Christmas tree

Chapter 3 - Unwrapping Presents

Luna Auclair & Bryce Lahela

On the dance floor - Luna Auclair (F!OC) x Bryce Lahela (M!MC)

Asks about Luna Auclair (F!OC)

Luna‘s guilty pleasures

Auclair Family

Auclair Family Tree

My OC - Luna Auclair (F!OC) - @choicesficwriterscreations

Auclair Triplets

Gifts from friends - Edits & Art work

Secret Santa by @ladylamrian

Grey (M!OC - NB) @bayleedraws

April 16th (Another great birthday gift) - @annieruok94

Birthday Gift by @cariantha

Maxine & Adam by @loveliemadness

Luna Auclair 💚 Bryce Lahela by @cariantha and @bayleedraws-sometimesx

Bryce & Luna by @messprongs

Making Waves - @cariantha

My little artsy Luna Auclair (F!OC) - @inlocusmads

Beautiful Beige - by Linds

A beautiful birthday gift by my amazing friend @mysticalgalaxysstuff

Bryce Lahela (M!MC) - @weetlebeetle

#masterlist #open heart #Bryce & Luna #Auclair Family #Maxine Moore #Maxine Moore & Adam Sinclair #Keiki Lahela & Koa Haulani #Nightbound #Grey #Hänsel & Gretel #The Nanny Affair #Sam Dalton & Emma Anderson #Robin Flores and Addison Dalton #Crimes Of Passion #Rose De Luca x Trystan Thorne

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writers-potion · 3 months

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Plant Symbolisms 🌱🌿🪴

Flora have a special corner in literature.

Starting from the Greco-Roman period when certain plants were representative of gods (like olive trees for Athena), plants have meant more than just a source of food or pleasure.

Lotus - Symbol of creation, rebirth, and the sun. The blue lotus represents spiritual enlightenment, while the white lotus symbolizes purity.

Papyrus - Represents prosperity, growth, and regeneration, often associated with the Nile River and the goddess Isis.

Mandrake - Associated with love, fertility, and aphrodisiac properties.

Poppy - Symbol of sleep, healing, and regeneration, often associated with the god of sleep, Hypnos.

Rose - Represents love, beauty, and the goddess Aphrodite.

Jasmine - Symbol of sensuality, love, and spiritual growth.

Palm - Represents victory, triumph, and eternal life, often associated with the god Osiris.

Acacia - Symbolizes resurrection and the afterlife, linked to the god Osiris and the Tree of Life.

Cornflower - Represents fertility, abundance, and regeneration.

Anemone - Symbol of protection, healing, and renewal.

Anemone, garden: Forsaken.

Almond, flowering: Hope.

Balm: Sympathy.

Bamboo: The emblem of Buddha. The seven-knotted bamboo denotes the seven degrees of initiation and invocation in Buddhism.

Bay leaf: I change but in death.

Bell flower, white: Gratitude.

Bluebell: Constancy.

Broken flower: A life terminated, mortality.

Buttercup: Cheerfulness.

Calla lily: Symbolises marriage.

Campanula: Gratitude.

Carnation, red: Beauty always new

Chrysanthemum: I love.

Clover, white: Think of me.

Clover, four-leaved: Be mine.

Cinquefoil: maternal affection, beloved daughter.

Convolvulus, major: Extinguished hopes or eternal sleep.

Coreopsis, Arkansa: Love at first sight.

Crocus: Youthful gladness.

Cuckoo Pint: Ardour.

Cypress tree: Designates hope.

Daffodil: Death of youth, desire, art, grace, beauty, deep regard.

Daisy: Innocence of child, Jesus the Infant, youth, the Son righteousness, gentleness, purity of thought.

Daisy, garden: I share your sentiment.

Dead leaves: Sadness, melancholy.

Dogwood: Christianity, divine sacrifice, triumph of eternal life, resurrection.

Fern: Sincerity, sorrow.

Figs, Pineapples: Prosperity, eternal life.

Fleur-de-lis: Flame, passion, ardour, mother.

Flower: frailty of life.

Forget-me-not: Remembrance / true love.

Furze or Gorse: Enduring affection.

Grapes: represent Christ.

Grapes and leaves: Christian faith.

Harebell: Grief.

Hawthorn: Hope, merriness, springtime.

Heartsease or Pansy: I am always thinking of you.

Holly: Foresight.

Honeysuckle: Bonds of love, generosity and devoted affection.

Honesty: Sincerity.

Ivy: Memory, immortality, friendship, fidelity, faithfulness, undying affection, eternal life, marriage.

Jonquil: “I hope for a return of affection.”

Lalla: Beauty, marriage.

Laurel leaves: Special achievement, distinction, success, triumph.

Marigold: Grief or despair.

Morning glory: Resurrection, mourning, youth, farewell, brevity of life, departure, mortality.

Mystic rose: Mother.

*some of these flower symbols have Greek or Roman origins but were also used in ancient Egyptian culture.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

🖱️References

https://www.proflowers.com/blog/plant-symbolism-guide

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/396668679699365428/

https://lilysflorist.com/blog/the-symbolism-of-flowers-in-literature-and-poetry-a-look-at-the-hidden-meanings-of-blooms-in-classic-texts/#:~:text=Rose%20%2D%20Represents%20love%2C%20beauty%2C,and%20the%20Tree%20of%20Life.

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erosyrup · 3 months

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7/7: Enjolras (Les Misérables)

“he was serious, it did not seem as though he were aware there was on earth a thing called woman. He had but one passion--the right; but one thought--to overthrow the obstacle. [...] He hardly saw the roses, he ignored spring, he did not hear the carolling of the birds; the bare throat of Evadne would have moved him no more than it would have moved Aristogeiton; he, like Harmodius, thought flowers good for nothing except to conceal the sword. [...] If any grisette of the Place Cambrai or the Rue Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais, seeing that face of a youth escaped from college, that page's mien, those long, golden lashes, those blue eyes, that hair billowing in the wind, those rosy cheeks, those fresh lips, those exquisite teeth, had conceived an appetite for that complete aurora, and had tried her beauty on Enjolras, an astounding and terrible glance would have promptly shown her the abyss, and would have taught her not to confound the mighty cherub of Ezekiel with the gallant Cherubino of Beaumarchais.” — Les Misérables

—

Staring a mini series of aro-coded characters for Aromantic Awareness Week! Some are canonically coded as Aro, some are just my projections. Either way, I hope you like them :)

#all art in this series will be under:#syrup aro week 2024 #the man the myth the aroace legend #he is the Aro-est of them all and that is why i saved him for last <3 #les mis #les mis fanart #enjolras #enjolras fanart #aromantic #aromantic awareness week #syrup art tag

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scribblingapparition · 1 year

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El Dios de la Brisa (K'uk'ulkan x Reader) (2)

Summary: You are a passionate Marine Biologist who has lived in the Yucatan Peninsula for some time now. After an encountered with a fabled god more information is learned about your past. The discoveries you make continue to unravel the world around you. This is only the beginning.

[Word count: 4,937]

☀

For the past couple of nights you were having the same recurring dream.

Jumbled fragmented memories tried their best to depict a clear enough picture that you could make sense of. All you could remember from your dreams was that you were awakened by the sound of a haunting song that put you in a trance; the melody led you to the beach where the villagers stood like statues, unaffected by the song, watching as you walked into the sea covered in heads peeking out of the water. They covered the entire bay. There seemed to be more eyes watching you from the water than there were people in Mérida.

You tried and tried but you could not remember what happened before it led you to such a scene or what happened after you walked into the ocean and the water rose over your head leading you into the darkness.

You did remember, however, that before the waves took a hold of you completely you looked up to see the mighty shadow of the king that flew imposingly overhead. His features were covered in darkness but he was outlined by the moon. In his hand was his spear, glistening with power. Though you could not see his expression you could read his satisfaction as the waves claimed you as their own.

Correction, as he claimed you for himself.

K'uk'ulkan.

It was no surprise to see him in your dreams. He had easily conquered your thoughts even during the day.

There were those that claimed dreams held meanings. You were never one to buy into it too much given that most of your dreams normally didn’t make any sense and it was logical that someone like him spent so much time in your thoughts that he could pop up in a dream or two. But you were not one to have the same dream over and over. Especially not the same exact dream, while only being able to remember the same exact things despite the fact your gut feeling told you there was a lot happening before and after the scene you could remember.

☀

“¿Crees que los sueños tienen significado?”

(Do you believe dreams have meaning?)

You had been invited by a friend you had made in the village, Clara and her husband Jorge, to a fishing trip. It felt so nice to leave the bay and enjoy the open ocean while someone else was manning the boat. Together, you and Clara worked on preparing the nets you would be fishing with. They had been one of the first to approach you when you had arrived at the village and though you felt familiar to their culture thanks to your mentor sharing it with you they were the two you learned from the most.

The Maya had never disappeared despite what the history books liked to say. Their descendants were still living in their ancestral lands proudly keeping their traditions alive among the strong colonial and Spanish influence left behind. You had seen this long before you met the god their pyramid was dedicated to and you felt unbelievably fortunate to learn directly from them.

“Claro que si. Todos los sueños tienen significado, incluso los que crees que no. Mi gente cree firmemente en el hecho que los sueños son algo que tu alma puede ver venir.” She said kindly, moving from working on the net to preparing the bait that would be used. “Has tenido algo en mente por días, me di cuenta. De niños, los mayores siempre nos animaban a hablar de nuestros sueños. Nos ayudaron a interpretarlos.”

(I sure do. All dreams have meaning, even the ones you think don't. My people strongly believe in the fact that dreams are something that your soul can see coming. You've had something on your mind for days, I could tell. As kids we are always encouraged by the elders to talk about our dreams. They helped us interpret them.)

You took a look at Jorge before turning to her, putting your net down and leaning your elbows on your knees. “¿Puedes ayudarme a interpretar el mío?”

(Could you help me interpret mine?)

You felt nervous talking about it.

You knew she could tell.

Growing up without anyone meant not trusting those around you with anything you considered personal. You had never had a sibling to talk about your dreams and aspirations to. You didn’t have a mother or a father to go to for comfort after a nightmare. It had taken you decades to find a friend you could fully trust and she was gone. You kept your personal life a secret from everyone, even the friends you were with now did not know much about who you truly were. You talked to everyone in the village; they knew you were a hard worker, they knew you loved the ocean, they knew you to be a respectful yet stubborn individual, they knew you to be closed off.

Yet they still welcomed you like Altagracia had.

Perhaps they all shared that gift of being able to look further beyond what they simply saw in front of them.

It wasn’t only talking about yourself that made you nervous, it was also the subject. You had given him your word that you would not reveal his existence to anyone. Ever. He had been generous, trusting you enough to take your word as truth and allowed you once again to step into his oceans. And now you were going to speak about him in his waters. You feared betraying him especially when it wasn’t your intention. Some secrets that were better off staying as secrets. You knew this.

But you were having trouble processing all of this alone.

“Agradezco su confianza en mí. Si me lo permite, sería un honor escucharlo.”

(I appreciate your trust in me. If you would allow me, I would be honored to listen.)

You trusted your instincts. Clara had never once given you a reason to doubt her.

Framing it as a dream and only a dream, you began to explain what you could remember.

Her hands moved purposefully as she separated the bait and prepared the hooks, eyes meeting yours to confirm that she was listening as she worked yet keeping them away to help calm your nervousness. It was not the first time that outsiders were enchanted by the ocean. The gods of her people were present, they had always been, and those who sought after them with hate in their hearts were struck down by their fury. You had not appeared to have come to their village with any of those intentions. You had come here to heal even if you had not known it at the time.

But it seemed that there was more at work here than healing.

You felt better after you were done though your hands gripped onto the net tightly. The ocean did not change around you. The sun continued to shine brightly, the ocean continued to be fairly calm and docile, the wind had not gotten any stronger in anger. You had described the king as a serpent rather than a man; detailing the colorful feathers of his headpiece to be the feathers covering the body of the winding beast that slithered through the air as if it were creating the ocean breeze itself.

Clara placed the last of the hooks in their bin and took a moment to think before facing you. There was a change in her kind eyes; the softness was still there but there was also apprehension. The serpent god was many things; a bringer of peace and founder of Chichen Itza, the one who was there at the beginning of time and put forth order when helping create all things, the one who fiercely protected those who inhabited the lands and dwelled in the depths of the ocean. His powers over creation also allowed him to destroy anything he pleased as there was nothing in the world that wouldn’t submit to his might.

“Es recurrente.” You spoke to fill the silence more than anything, her dark eyes pierced your own and it pushed you to speak without meaning to. “Cada noche…nada cambia. ¿Deberia estar preocupada?”

(It's recurring. Every night nothing about it…changes. Should I be worried?)

She took your hand in hers. “Tu alma siempre ha pertenecido al océano. No debes temerlo en sueños o incluso ahora. El dios que estás viendo es poderoso. Creo que este sueño es una representación de ti alcanzando un nuevo capítulo en tu vida. El agua es el elemento del cambio y K'uk'ulkan representa tu vida llevándote al océano para ser renovada. Le k'áak'náabo' a k'aaba'.”

(Your soul has always belonged to the ocean. You shouldn't fear it in dreams or even now. The god you are seeing is powerful. I believe this dream is a representation of you reaching a new chapter in your life. Water is the element of change and K'uk'ulkan represents your life leading you to the ocean to be made new. The sea calls to you.)

The moment she was done speaking, after speaking in her native tongue, the boat jumped, hitting a rather rough wave causing everything to be thrown around. You quickly moved to grab the hooks to distract yourself from how fast your heart was beating. You heard Clara ask her husband what had happened and he quickly replied that it was nothing but a wave and that he could see the other boats lowering their anchors. You thanked her quickly and nodded when she smiled and moved to help her husband but you could not forget the cloud of darkness over her eyes when you mentioned seeing the serpent god.

You trusted Clara but now you weren’t sure if her thoughts on your dream were true or if she had spun it into a positive tale for your sake.

Your soul belonged to the ocean and your life was changing. That had been her interpretation. In your dream, you had felt his satisfaction in him luring you into the water. What did it mean? Why did you feel it in your bones that this was more important than just any dream?

“¿Lista para pescar?” Jorge grinned as he clapped his hands moving to help you arrange the nets. He was the most energetic man you had ever met, always smiling and joking, radiating pure eagerness no matter what he was doing. “Es diferente a lo que estás acostumbrada. ¿Estás segura de que estás lista?”

(Ready to fish? It’s different from what you’re used to. Are you sure you’re ready?)

“¿Lista? Estuve lista toda la mañana!” You grinned, focusing on the task at hand and leaving your dream omens for another time.

(Ready? I’ve been ready all morning!)

“¡Entonces vamos! ¡Tu primera lección de pesca como lo hace mi gente!”

(Then let’s go! Your first lesson on fishing, how my people do it!)

☀

You couldn’t sleep.

Despite the long day out at sea fishing among the villagers, suffering the glare of the sun and feeling the exhaustion after a long day of work, the comfort of your bed offered no help to silence your thoughts.

The bottom of your dress brushed atop the sand as you wandered forward. You had been walking for quite some time. It didn’t worry you that it was after midnight and that you were walking along a new path away from the bay because above the treetops proudly stood a pyramid that would always serve as a beacon home.

Home.

You still weren’t used to that word. You don’t think you’ve said it out loud in a really long time despite feeling it in your heart. It just never felt right. When would it feel right? When you followed your dream and followed an unknown and powerful god into the water? That would never happen. You would never really have a home and that was okay. Not everyone needed one. Nomads existed in every culture, across all of time, as proof that not everyone felt the same desire to lay down their roots and stay in one place forever.

Because that was your desire, right? You didn’t want to stay. Or did you?

The frustration inside of you came from never allowing yourself to stay in one place for too long and now that you have you began to doubt everything. That much you knew. But then there was the unknown element of the absolutely alluring and dangerous man you had met that asked the same questions that made you run your entire life.

Answers to those questions only ever led to paths filled with pain.

That’s why you had to run.

That’s why you were taught to run.

Heading out from between the trees, you walked towards a new section of the beach you haven't been to before. This one was rocky. There were multiple different rock formations alongside the water and it created perfect pools for little creatures to live in. You immediately headed over to see if you could find a hermit crab or a starfish. You loved those little guys.

“I really should’ve brought a flashlight,” You muttered as you looked around the ponds, lifting your dress so it wouldn’t get too wet. “I gotta come back in the daytime and take some notes.”

A noise from behind you caught your attention.

Your eyes narrowed as you turned around and scanned the area. It was a bird. It had to be a bird. But after midnight? That wasn’t common. Yet there was no denying what you were hearing, the consistently singular note chirping of a bird that you could not see. Stepping down from an elevated rock pool, you turned a bit towards the moonlight and that’s when you saw it.

A Resplendent Quetzal.

A smile formed on your lips as you watched the brightly colored bird fly overhead, circling you as it called out into the night, filling the silence and joining the sounds of the waves. It was beautiful! They were known for their stunning green, red, and blue feathers that looked iridescent in the light.

The resplendent quetzal was sacred to the Maya.

Venerated as the god of the air, symbol of goodness and light, it was their feathers and colors that were attributed to…

K'uk'ulkan.

Green, red, and blue feathers adorned the body of the great serpent as it glided through the air; a god of the wind, sharing its glory and beauty just as this bird was doing with you. Another one of his symbols appeared before you. Was this a message? No way was it a coincidence.

You moved closer to the beach keeping your eyes focused on the bird until something else caught your eye.

Being pushed into the sand by the waves was your mask.

Your diving mask.

The one you had lost when he left you inside the pyramid. It was as if the ocean was presenting it to you. Immediately, you looked towards the ocean. There was nothing out of place in the dark water but you did not let that fool you. You continued to look out as you moved to grab the mask from the sand. A part of you was beyond delighted to have it back! Diving had not been the same without it and you had not enjoyed having to go back to using oxygen tanks that limited your time in the water. Another part of you was apprehensive, not worried per say, just wondering why you kept being the target of the feathered serpent’s generosity.

The mask had been modified.

The edges were lined with a green stone (or was it a gem?). Jade, maybe? Jade held a huge significance in Mayan culture, it was more important than gold; often being associated with water, the stone symbolized life and death. You remember Altagracia once explaining this to you on a trip in China, as the stone held a great importance in their culture too. There were pearls scattered along it as well, different sizes and shapes. The inside remained the same, mostly, aside from it now having a mouth piece that was meant to cover the area from your nose to your chin. You had no idea what it was made of or what it was meant to do but the shock had not worn off yet.

You had your mask back.

He’d given it back to you.

“A satal. Ba'ale' le k'áak'náabo' a k'aaba'.”

(You are lost. But the sea calls to you.)

His appearance did not surprise you. All of the elements leading to him making his presence known were there. Your eyes stayed attached to your mask, running your fingers along the new designs as he landed on the soft sand in front of you. When your eyes did look up you took the opportunity to really see the being before you.

He was beautiful.

The water that ran down his neck and shoulders enhanced the rich color of his skin. He was in his element; iridescent as the feathers of the quetzal, sacred. There was not a man more confident than the king before you who’s dark eyes held yours with a yearning to discover the secrets in you. His neck was adorned with gold and pearls and there was what seemed to be armor on his arms and legs made of the same things. He was enchanting as a siren. It didn’t need to be said and according to your subconscious that had created your dreams, you had associated him with one.

“Tech le k'áak'náabo'.” You replied quickly after he raised a brow at your staring, which didn’t do much to save you from embarrassment but you could see that your response surprised him.

(You are the sea.)

He had not been expecting you to answer him back in his language much less understand what he was saying but you were a quick study. Not only that those had been the exact same words Clara had told you about your dreams. Had he heard that conversation?

“Tene' tuukulo'oba' le k'áak'náabo' bey iik', ba'ale' ma' ya'ab ba'ax a u taasik waye'.”

(I am both the sea and the air but I am not what has brought you here.)

“That’s when you lost me. I’m not fluent in your language. Nowhere near it, actually.”

“I am surprised you know what little you do.”

“I tend to learn quickly, given if the subject interests me.” You don’t know why you said it like that and to save yourself from any further embarrassment, you kept talking. “I didn’t expect to see this again. The mask. I thought I had dropped it last time we met, well, not last time exactly. The time before that. After the cave. Oh! The turtle is doing really well, by the way. There’s a small facility in Izamal and they’ve been doing a great job. They don’t have many animals currently so she’s been the star of the show.”

He extended out his hand and instinctively you placed whatever you had in your hands into his. He examined your mask for a moment before removing the mouth piece that had been attached by his people and held it up for you.

“Should the hard surface ever be compromised, this will allow you to breathe underneath the water until you are able to reach the surface.” He explained before he placed it back inside and it seemed to readily attach itself. “I am glad to hear that the creature is recovering.”

“I was wondering what that was for. Thank you.”

“The markings around it will give you safe passage should you be at depths where my people may see you.”

“That is very generous. Truly. Dios bo’otik.”

(Thank you)

You had nothing to give and even if you did you doubt that there was anything you could find that would please a man like him. He had given away too much information about his kingdom, aside from that fact that it did exist and it was as vast as the oceans, but just by how he looks you knew that there was little he could want.

The oceans had always held riches and they were all his.

Perhaps that is why you gestured to the place beside you on the beach where you sat. You did not have riches or great knowledge to share but you could guess that a man who took care of an entire empire rarely got a moment of peace. You had the sense that you were right when he wordlessly took his place next to you.

He glanced at the oceans sparkling in delight at having his attention while you looked around for a moment, noticing the silence signaling the bird’s departure. For a moment you did consider if you had even truly seen it. He made no mention of it.

“There are not many that inhabit this area. The closest village still sits a good distance away from the pyramid’s beaches.” He observed.

“My, um, mentor had a research cabin built not far from the bay. That’s where I spend my time. The locals are cautious enough to build away. I’m sure it would make storm season just that more difficult to deal with if they were this close to the water.”

They were cautious but not only because of the storms. There were many stories that this beach held. Stories written by the Spanish of a demon that came from the water and cursed the land as hellfire rained down and destroyed what they had built. Stories from the villagers of an angry god that protected the area, that flew above the waters and feared nothing.

“Do you not fear the storms?”

“There are other things to worry about.” You surprised yourself with your honestly and made a point to evade his gaze when he turned to look at you.

“What do you fear?”

You kept your expression neutral, a mask you wore that was well practiced. It concealed your thoughts well enough. You were sure that he was not one of them; he clearly wasn’t from your world but there was nothing guaranteeing that it was safe to speak to him. You didn’t know him well enough. You didn’t know him at all.

He read you easily.

“My people were from these lands. They also did not fear the storms. They worshiped the god of the rain knowing that prosperity and new life would come after each strike of the clouds that would produce the rain and the thunder.”

“They were brave.”

“To put your trust in something unknown to you is a symbol of bravery.” His eyes met yours this time and though his tone was purely conversational, the meaning did not go over your head. “This world has forced many to hide who they are. It has taken their identities from them, made them ashamed of who they are. My people were freed of that fate. We were given something much greater this land.”

“I can only imagine what it looks like.” Your smile was soft but full of wonder. “I used to dream of finding Atlantis as a kid. In one of the homes I was in I found a map of the world in the basement. I spent so many days that summer reading all I could about it at the library and then running home and circling where I thought it was. A world away from this one? What I wouldn’t have given to just…disappear.”

“My city is called Talokan.”

“Talokan.” You carefully copied his pronunciation and felt proud when he nodded, pleased. “Do you spend a lot of time up here? For someone who lives at the bottom of the ocean you seem to have a pretty good understanding of what happens on the land.”

“It would be unwise of me not to know the ways your world changes. Many things tend to stay the same from my experience. It is key to notice what developments there are.” He continued. “I am from the sea as I am from here. My mother was from the surface world. These lands were hers. The god of rain had spoken to our shaman and through his blessing we were able to discover a way to live within the water. I was the first child born to my people. I am a mutant.”

Your reaction had given him just what he wanted.

It was a confirmation of what he had theorized from the moment he began to understand your connection to his world.

“Don’t say that!” Your words were harsh and your eyes were wide, standing to look around you as if you had forgotten it was the middle of the night and no one but the god shared the beach with you.

Everything told you to run.

You had not said, thought, or even acknowledged the existence of that word in years when you thought you had finally gotten away from it. You had outrun it. You had traveled the world, hopping from place to place, leaving few tracks and enjoying the safety of the oceans for years.

So many years.

Anger and fear had kept you alive for a long time.

You were not going to consider how your actions were disrespectful. It didn’t matter. He had been kind only to take advantage of your curiosity. You could handle the questioning, you could handle the looks of suspicion, all of that you could remain neutral to but that word, that damned word, would always find you.

He stood and watched as you walked closer to the water and threw the mask into the waves. He could see how angry you were at your own reaction, at the fact you left your emotions slip. You were choosing to stand your ground and defend your reaction. He could see that when you turned to him, eyes raging, dress caught in the breeze, moonlight forming a halo around you; you were a sight to behold.

“You can take your mask and stay the hell away from me.” Your eyes were watering and that only added to your fury.

“They have made you run for so long.”

He took a step closer to you.

He was being cautious not because he feared he would be harmed but because there was something growing inside of him from the first time he met you. He couldn’t explain what it was. It went beyond you being a mutant. That wasn’t important. He wanted you to understand that you did not have to live in that fear that others forced you to feel because you were different.

Something deep within him was answering to the pull that brought him to you.

You held a hand in front of you. “Stay away from me!”

The king stood still as the once gentle waves rushed forward. It wasn’t an attack and he would not label it as one but the water had moved forward aggressively only to pool at his feet before sinking into the sand and retreating. You seemed shocked by this too; quickly lowering your hand and turning to look at the pools you had been exploring that were now filled to the brim with water.

A little crab had been displaced from his pool by the wave and was making his way back.

He did not move as you quickly made your way back to the tree line and disappeared. Your expression had gone from anger, to shock, to fear at the mention of a single word. There was no more proof needed. It had not been a coincidence that night and it had not been your instincts either. The water did not only call to you but it answered your own call for protection, even if it was just a gentle push back; it had answered your call against him.

Your mask lay at his feet. Once again brought back to the shore.

He took it in his hands and admired the craftsmanship of his people. He knew you had liked it too, he had seen you admiring it. The inscription on the side held a message. He doubted you understood it. Perhaps one day he would tell you or your curiosity would lead you to the answer.

☀

The beach was soon left empty.

It’s two inhabitants returning to their homes each with a chest filled with swirling emotions.

The god bowed his head in greeting to his people as he walked into his hut and laid the siibil (gift) he had made for you on the table that sat in the middle of the room. He had enjoyed the moment of peace at your side. But there was no time to focus on what was but rather on what will be. Tomorrow’s sun will rise and there is no guarantee you would be seen again. But there was a change in the wind and something told him, deep down, that you would be in Zama for many more sunrises.

He took the shell that had his paints and turned to the wall behind him.

This was only the beginning.

☀

(Author's Note: I did take inspiration from the movie and I've been doing quite a bit of research to try and be as respectful as possible! I had the reader wandering to water as Queen Ramonda expressed that's how she found peace (I thought it would be interesting to have the reader find the opposite of peace doing the same thing), Zama is where the pyramid is located (which is modern day Tulum outside of the MCU), and the Maya did use nets to fish and you could see the Talokanil using nets a lot in that glorious scene where Shuri got a tour in the movie. Next Chapter should be up in a week! Thank you for all your support and for reading!)

{Taglist: @lockleysgrl @violet-19999 @kawaiikibi @lilyevans1 @rando-norse @lwqfhp @bookfrog242 @cypherpt5fttaehyung @tahiraseoti @damnzelsoul @user12875671}

(A/N: Also, someone had asked me why I use the sun as my little dividers! The Maya saw the sun as a symbol of a new age; K'uk'ulkan brought the sun to his people, signaling that new age! Thought it would be nice to include it in!)

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #namor fanfiction #black panther wakanda forever #tenoch huerta #marvel cinematic universe #L'iik'ik Talokan #El Dios de la Brisa #mcu fanfiction #Talokan

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