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tsireyasluvr · 11 months

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Hii I’m srry if your request are closed but can I request a Neteyam x female metkayina reader (it doesn’t have to be metkayina but it’s preferred) where Reader is in heat and neteyam is in rut at the same time?

In Synch

Neteyam x Metkayina fem!reader

Authors note: hi anon! you’re my first request, so i hope you enjoy this <3 i also do not think i did the heat/rut part justice, i can’t stay i know too much about it, but i hope you like it anyway!

Summary: as a heavy storm comes on, you find out your mate was in rut, naturally being eager to help him out.

Warnings: 18+!! minors, DNI!, everyone’s aged up ofc, smut, p in v, heat, rut, whining, hand job kinda?, choking, dirty talk, he totally gives y/n head in this

It was beginning to storm at the reefs, you knew dinner would be held indoors for most of the village today so you thought it’d be best to gather fruit for your family and the Sullys as a favour, before the thunder started. You were at it for about an hour or so before your basket got full, smiling proudly at your work as you walked back towards the beach and mauris.

“y/n!” You hear a high pitched voice call out your name, a pair of little legs running quickly towards you. Immediately you knew it was Tuk, grinning as you turn around to greet the girl. “Hi Tuk-Tuk!” you beamed at your boyfriends little sister, kneeling down to hug her with one arm as you held the basket against your hip with the other. “What are you doing out here, hm? is your brother watching you by chance?” You ask, looking around behind her. “Lo’ak is over there somewhere,” she waves her hand around carelessly “not Neteyam though. He’s sick today” your brows furrow in confusion. “Hm? I haven’t heard anything about that, where is he?” she gave you a concerned look “Mama said it’s a pretty serious sickness, and that we shouldn’t be around him. You probably should give him some space, y/n”

You stood back up, shaking your head a little as you looked down at the girl. “no, no, I need to go see him. He’s my mate, I’ll just drop off some fruit for him if he’s feeling sick.” you insisted, the worry for your boy beginning to grow. “Where is he, Tuk?” you ask gently, adjusting your grip on the basket. She sighs a little, before pointing towards the very far end of the village, to a pod that is usually left vacant. “Over there.”

when you finally come into the mauri your mate was in, you see a sight that makes your heart clench. Neteyam writhing against his mat, the pillows beneath his head pretty much flattened and the blanket bunched over his waist.

“‘Teyam? why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick?” you say, closing the pod doors and kneeling beside him, placing the basket of fruit you collected to the corner of his bed. As you got closer, you noticed just how sweaty he looked, how his braids were looking disheveled and like they’d need to be redone later.

he looks up at you with wide eyes, his usual amber colour appearing more green “y/n? fuck, w-what are you doing here?” He inhaled sharply at the touch of your hand against his forehead, relishing in the cool feeling of your skin, digging his fingers into the matt to restrain from touching you. That’s when you realize.

He was in rut.

Your brows furrow in concern, brushing his braids back and any loose hairs on his face, stroking his sweaty cheek with the back of your hand. “You’re in rut… why are you doing hiding from me?” you look at him in slight confusion, tilting your head as he sits up, taking your hands away from his face as gently as he could. “Because, I’ve never endured a rut with anyone else, I don’t-“ His voice strains a little, “I don’t want to hurt you, y/n. You should go” He grits out, clenching his fists to hold any bit of control.

“Neteyam, i’m your mate. It’s my job to help you, i want to help you.” you say, pouting at him slightly as you sit closer to him, gingerly reaching your hands out to rest against his chest. You look at him for a reaction, only to be met with his eyes staring straight at you, unmoving. You decide to become bolder, tossing the blanket that sat around his waist aside, and moving to sit in his lap instead, your legs straddling him.

His hands immediately come to wrap around your waist, groaning at the lightest touches. He grips your hips, digging his nails in as you leaned in to press your lips against his. Neteyam tries to be gentle, he really does. The thought of hurting you is something he can’t bare, but he feels his self restraint slipping further and further away as he shoves his tongue in your mouth, licking his way in. You hold him closer at this, sucking on his warm muscle before pulling away and kissing down his jaw, trailing to his neck.

As you near his scent glands, you feel a switch in you. A heat starts to creep up your insides, an itch forming in your womb. You whine, gripping onto him tightly and grinding your hips onto his, licking at the spot on his neck. Neteyam hisses at this, tightening his grip on you as he starts moving you against him at his own pace. “Shit, that’s so good, princess. You don’t know how badly I want to hold you down and fuck you, watch you cry underneath me again” He whispers, dry humping you through his loincloth.

You mewl at his words, feeling your own body start to move frantically against him, your legs tightening on either side of his waist as you subconsciously release your pheromones. “Do it! Do it, p-please” You beg, reaching for his loincloth. His eyes practically turn to slits, as he looks down at you in pure hunger, clearly wanting to devour you. “Are you in heat? Did this- Did I trigger your heat, my love?” He grins, his sharp fangs becoming more prominent as he leans in closer to you, kissing your wrist as he inhales your scent. “Fuck, you smell so good, pretty girl. Like yovo fruit, so sweet.”

As you frantically try to untie his loincloth, he takes your wrists in one hand and flips you over, with one arm wrapped around your back and hand cushioning your head as he laid you both down. “T-Teyam, take it off, please” you whine, your inky curly hair lying messily beneath you, the woven seashell top Neteyam made you feeling itchy against your chest as you desperately wanted every barrier between the two of you off.

He growls at your whining, licking and nipping at your skin as he trails his tongue down your body, stopping right before your clothed cunt. He spreads your legs harshly apart, barely looking up at you before tearing off your loincloth and taking a long, wet lick between your folds. His eyes flutter shut at your taste, inhaling more of your smell before eagerly licking at you, fucking his tongue into you. “Oh! Mmm shit! Shit! Tey!” You writhed beneath him, humping your hips into his face, gripping his braids.

He pinned you down with one arm, stilling your hips as he sucked on your clit harshly. “So fucking delicious, sweet girl. Just like the fruit.” he growled into your cunt, sending vibrations through your body. You gasp, pulling his hair tighter “Nete! I’m gonna- ngh! I’m g-gonna..” You squeal, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. He plunges a finger into you, still sucking your clit. “Come on, princess. Let me feel it, taste it, hm?” Your eyes roll back at his words, finally letting go with a gasp, cumming all over his tongue.

He eagerly slurps it all into his mouth, licking his finger off as he crawls back up your body, pressing his lips to yours as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Slender fingers made quick work to remove the top he made you off your chest, while you finally untied his loincloth, throwing it as far as possible from you. He hissed as his cock was freed, and you couldn’t help but stare, his tip an angry red as pre-cum oozed down his length. “Yawne, keep your legs spread for me, yeah?” He said, stroking his cock as he looked down at you, panting.

You do as he says, looking up at him with hazy eyes as your chest quickly rises and falls. “That’s a good girl” He grins, lining up his tip at your entrance, not giving you any time to adjust before slamming his entire length into you. “Oh, Eywa! More, more!” You gasp, rocking your hips into his. He snarls, wrapping a hand around your neck as he slams into you, fucking you hard and fast as he loses any last bit of control, only thinking about chasing his high.

You yelped as you felt him hit your g-spot, holding tightly onto the wrist of the hand that was wrapped around your throat, looking up at him all teary eyed. You felt like it was too much yet not enough at the same time, pleading him with your eyes. “Whats wrong, pretty girl?” He coos, pushing your jaw up with his thumb, the same hand still wrapped tightly around your throat as he brought his head down, his breath hot against your neck. He sucked and kissed around your scent glands, breathing you in, licking at your sweet spot. “Fuck, you taste so good, yawne. Everywhere, every bit of you. Your skin.. your lips.. your tight, wet cunt. Just can’t get enough of you, you know that?” He murmurs into your skin, covering your neck in his saliva.

You pant against him, feeling your vision get drowsy as your arousal grows and you moan helplessly against him. He finally takes his hand off your throat, instead running it through your hair as he grazes his teeth along your shoulder. “Nete.. Nete, I’m s-so close” You whimper, scratching your nails down his back. He grins at your whiney voice, loving the way you grasped onto him, the way your body trembled under him at every touch.

“mmm fuck, cum around my dick, princess. let me feel it, hm?” He sat up, grabbing your hips as he began rutting into you like an animal, violently fast and bringing his hand down to rub at your clit, abusing your cunt as he looked down at your twisted expression. Your jaw dropped in a silent gasp, gripping the pillows above you as your back arches, screaming out his name as you finally came undone.

“Fuck, such a good girl.” He groaned, bending down and holding you close to him as he fucked you deeper now, thrusting the entirety of his cock into you as he sunk his fangs straight into the crook of your neck. “Neteyam!” You squealed, throwing your head back in pleasure and crying out as you felt the pulsing of his cock inside of you. “‘m gonna cum, princess, fuck. you’re gonna make me cum” He whined, licking at the imprints of his sharp teeth in your neck.

“do it.. do it, in me, Teyam, please. Please” You beg, tugging lightly on his braids. He knows you’re not thinking straight, that it’s all just your heat talking. But he refuses to stop now, his own rut was clouding any bit of sense he had left in him as he nodded quickly at you. “you gonna take me, baby? all of me?” He moaned, caging your head with his arms as he kept looking down at you, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead. “yes! mhm!” you clench around him again, desperate to have him finish. He hisses at the tightness, moaning before finally spilling inside of you.

You hold him to your chest, your hands shaky as you pet his hair soothingly, relaxing from the feel of his weight on you. “I love you” you whispered in his ear, resting your cheek on top of his head. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around you as he pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam smut #neteyam x you #avatar smut

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barefoothighlander · 1 year

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could you do ghost being with someone on the team who’s just so innocent and naive it makes him wonder why they chose the job she has, like her callsign is angel, she puts her hair in braids when she’s allowed to, she puts little bows in her hair sometimes, she’s respectful etc

of course :) here's a quick little drabble I hope it fits what you had in mind

warnings: fluff, description of violence, mention of alcohol, mention of blood

The team got called in around midnight, everyone making their way to the base as quickly as possible, Ghost and you got there around 12:13, your appearances as a stark contrast to each other. He's drenched in black, face hidden from prying eyes behind the skull, looming and feared, you, on the other hand, showed up with your hair pulled back into french braids that ended in small buns behind your ears, a tank top covering your chest that had a small bow sitting between your breasts.

The two of you made your way into the conference room, Ghost finding his usual spot on the back wall while you greeted the team.

"G'mornin Angel" Soap greets, purposely avoiding Ghost's glare while he shamelessly eyes your form, "Little frilly for the field no?" He says pointing toward your top, you playfully push at his shoulder as you find your seats.

Price had given your mission assignments, a small hideout in the States was housing illegal weapons and you had to reclaim them.

You changed into your tactical gear and got into the plane, sitting between Ghost and Soap, fortunately, Soap liked to talk so the ride went quickly, the two of you chatting about your home life, Soap had recently gotten a dog and you were completely jealous, Simon designating your home pet free for the time being.

You landed and got started on the mission, following as Ghost took lead, clearing the building without a hitch while you followed behind, shooting down anyone in your sights. There were a few more enemies than you expected, having to use your knife on a few, effectively covering your gear in blood.

You completed the mission, boarding back onto the plane to return home, Ghost stares at you, the spatter of blood covering your soft cheek, it always confused him, why you decided to join the force, you were so soft, delicate when you were with him, he trusted your capability in the field, your skill saving his life a few times, but off the field, you wouldn't hurt a fly.

Touching down on base you decide to take a shower before going home, not wanting the dirt and blood on you to stain or transfer onto anything. You step out a few minutes later noticing Ghost sitting on one of the benches in the locker room.

"You know you can't be in here"

"Wanted to make sure you were okay"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He shrugs, turning and handing you a bag of clothes, you grab it and begin dressing yourself, brightly coloured sweats tugged onto your body before you cover your chest with a lace-trimmed tank top.

"That's why"

You furrow your brows in question.

"You're just very, innocent"

"Innocent?"

"I've seen you take out a room of men without breaking a sweat yet when we're home, everything is daisies and bows, it confuses me how you can be so kind and warm with a job like this"

You think about his words,

"It confuses me how somehow as nice as you would want to be with someone like me"

"Simon,"

You move forward to hold his face in your hands, a soft smile on your face, "My job is bloody and violent, and that's exactly why I am the way I am, it's nice to be - what'd you call it? Soft - it lets me forget about all the horrible things out in the world"

You reach down to kiss him, "And in regards to you, you aren't a dark person, you're thoughtful, generous, funny" You emphasize each word with a kiss.

"I just don't want them to take advantage of you," He says

"I doubt they'll even try when you're five feet away from me"

He huffs a laugh before the two of you make your way into the hall, greeted by the rest of the 141

"We're all going to the pub, care to join lovebirds"

Ghost grimaces at Soaps term,

"Of course," You say

You spend a few hours in the bar, the men all sipping on variations of whiskey while you sit with some fruity concoction between your hands.

"So what's with the bows," Soap asks, his words slurred

A small huh comes from you,

He gestures his hand in your direction, "Last week, you showed up with wee bows in your hair"

"Oh, um, I just thought they looked nice," You say suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

"They were cute lass"

A small smile creeps onto your face, "Well thank you"

"Can't have them in the field" Price says

"Of course Captain" You nod at him, trying to be serious but a small fit of giggles overtakes you, your laughter transferring to Soap and Gaz as they start laughing.

"I'm serious, your callsign might be Angel but you can't be skipping around on a mission"

You nod at him, feeling Ghost's hand on the small of your back while he leans into you,

"I think it's time we head home," He says, turning to look at the team now getting tired, you nod at him.

"We're gonna head out, see you all tomorrow" Your words are met with boos from Soap and Gaz,

"C'mon lass we've barely started"

"Johnny you're half asleep"

"Am not LT"

You giggle at the exchange, Ghost's arm snaking around your waist before pulling you out,

"G'night Angel!" Soap yells and Ghost lets a small grunt leave his mouth,

"Be nice Simon"

"I'll knock that stupid haircut off his head if he keeps flirting with you"

You laugh at his words, resting your head against his form while the two of you make your way home.

#simon riley #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost fluff #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #ghost mw2 #mw2022 #ghost x reader #reqs💌

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sunandsstars · 1 year

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YAWNETU

CHAPTER 2

Jake x Neytiri x Na’vi!Reader

Summary: One other mate was enough, but two? Unneeded. ___ was the outcast, the unwanted woman. Jake and Neytiri wouldn’t ever see her..right? Warnings: Angst, Injury, Mentions of non-con/Abandonment, Pregnancy Word count: 1.5k

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr @mooniequeen @berrybluez @bajadotcom @alwaysinwritersblock @pandoragalora @perfectprofessorloverapricot @lvrcpid @answer-the-sirens @phantomalex14 @neteyamforlife @bat1212 @sadforeversblog @ducks118 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @1800imgay @soushswag @honeybxes @lola-bunn1 @alldaysdreamers @doggodorime @theesexystallion @scarlettwch

___ awoke gradually, the soft breeze of the morning flowing through her braided hair. The creatures of Pandora were awake and chirping, singing their songs and melody’s to the lone Na’vi under the tree of souls.

The woman opened her eyes, she was still curled up beneath the sacred fauna, it’s long tendrils dropping down softly onto her skin. The grass beneath her glowed a soft bright blue, almost unseen due to the sun, but since she was so close she could make out the little flecks of colour.

___ sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in her body. Her ears dropped as she recalled the events of the previous night, Jake and Neytiri must have left her there, since she could not see or smell them in the area. She felt disgusted in her own skin. ‘I need to clean myself’

It was painful getting up onto her feet, her bones ached. But with Na’vi bodies it would not be long before they set into place again. She limped away from the place and towards the forest, now that it was day, hopefully it would be easier finding her way back to Hellsgate. If not she will call her ikran.

It did not take long for her to reach a clearing, a large waterfall rushed with life towards the right of her. She sighed and untied her tweng, letting it fall to the ground, doing the same for her top. She felt Jake’s spend from last night leak down her legs and whimpered, ears turned down. This was not how she expected her first mating to go.

___ dipped her foot into the water and after deeming it cool enough she stepped inside. Wading towards the waterfall and undoing her braids, throwing the beads towards her clothes. Hoping to find them later.

She grabbed different leaves and flowers on the way, standing under the fall and letting the water run down her body. She crushed the flowers and leaves, getting them wet and using them to clean her body, paying close attention to the dark marks on her lower back, hips, shoulders and arm.

She was sure the clan would be worried for her. Seeing her coming back alone and in such a state, or maybe they will not care, too busy getting used to their new home and leader.

She just hoped that she could go back in peace, not wanting any attention on her.

“What happened to you child” Mo’at questioned as she rubbed ointments into the purple bruising of ___’s delicate skin. The Tsahìk was confused as to why Neytiri and Jake showed up much earlier in the morning, without ___.

But when the missing woman showed up, braids undone and hair wet, body splotched in patches of darkness, the Tsahìk grew angry.

“It is nothing Mo’at”

“It is clearly not nothing. You are in pain ‘evenge” she stopped her ministrations and brushed the dark locks of hair away from her daughter in laws face, tucking it behind a pointed ear “you are my child now. I will look after you, but I can not help if you refuse to tell me”

___ felt her eyes water, memories rushing back quickly. Ones she refused to acknowledge all morning and kept hidden away. The Tsahìk noticed this and cooed, smooching her head and humming in comfort. Mo’at was always like a second mother to her growing up, being close friends with Sylwanin was what brought them closer.

“I- I cannot say. I do not want to” she weeped quietly, tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, shame coating her very being. The woman coddling her nodded, she would tell her in her own time. But for now the young lady needed to be comforted, whatever happened has shaken her.

Mo’at had a fleeting suspicion it was due to her daughter and son in law. No one else in the clan noticed them come back without ___, but she did.

A Tsahìk sees all.

Once ___’s cries died down and reduced to small sniffles, Mo’at informed her of the children she cared for, they were asking for her. Instantly the young woman’s ears perked, worried they have been alone for too long. The elder chuckled and urged her to go find them, knowing it would brighten everyone’s spirits.

“Tsmuke!!” a group of small Na’vi rushed up to her and collided with her legs, nuzzling into the blue skin. ___ chuckled and patted their heads, bending down to give kisses to each of their heads.

“Tsmuke! Tsmuke! Can I braid your hair?” One of the girls, Tsìkì asked her. Already thinking of the beads that she would put in, blue, green, brown, round and jagged. The little one practically bounced at the idea.

“Of course ‘evi” ___ held her hand out and got dragged to sit down by the unlit bonfire, Tsìkì gathering materials to place in her hair while the other children proceeded to chat and tell her stories of their morning.

“Tsmuke!” at the call of her title she turned around, seeing little Sray running towards them on quick feet, weaving between Na’vi legs and jumping over logs. “Zafpe says you are mated now!” the boy in mention choked on the fruit he was eating, not expecting to be brought into the limelight. ___ froze also, mind wandering off to her unfortunate night.

“Srane Sray. But we should not talk about that”

“Lumpe?”

“Because I want to hear about your new lessons”

Instantly all the children brightened up, mouths running with all the new things they have learnt with the humans. Eventually having little competitions between them on who was better at English, ___ laughed at them, all the while having her mating ritual at the back of her mind. Looming over the depts of her thoughts.

“We should tell her. Neytiri” Jake put his hand on top of her shoulder, watching as his wife was sat on the edge of their home, sharpening her knife.

“Why should we? She will find out with everyone else”

“Taweyka ngeyä sa’nok lu keftxo” Jake reasoned, not wanting to face Mo’at’s wrath of anger. He agreed that ___ could listen to the news with the rest of the clan, but it was better to let her know now rather than later.

Neytiri stood up and walked towards her bow, grabbing it and prepared to go hunting, looking towards Jake. “Fine, I will let her know. For the sake of my mother” she then walked out of the pod, climbing down the tree to find her old friend.

Jake just sighed and rubbed his temples, thinking back to earlier when Mo’at stared him down like she knew something he didn’t, like he was hiding something and she was figuring him out. It was unnerving, he’s only seen her look at him once, when hometree was destroyed and they found out his plans of betrayal to the Omaticaya.

He sat down on the edge of the hut and watched as Neytiri dragged ___ away from the children surrounding her, bringing her to somewhere with privacy.

“I am with child” Neytiri stated curtly, expression blank as she faced her supposed ‘mate’ “I have been since the war” she then turned her head up and looked towards their home where Jake was sat on the edge, watching them from much higher up.

“Oh, congratulations Neytiri” ___ did not know what to say, it was bound to happen sooner or later. The war was a few weeks ago and she knew they have mated not that long before that.

Soon ___ would have a child of her own child too, but it would take a few weeks to tell, the Na’vi process of pregnancy was long. It was one that she would usually be excited for but with her situation she was dreading the time it would come.

Neytiri looked towards ___’s own flat stomach, then her eyes made contact with hers “we are not going to be responsible for yours. It is not ours to care for” she turned to walk off, having enough of conversation and wanting some peace, tonight they would all have to share a hut and the warrior was not happy.

All ___ could do is whimper, it is their child, no? Even if they did not love her that does not mean they should hate an innocent being. She held her hand on top of her tummy, praying to Eywa for her future babe to be blessed with a family who cares for them, one who will love them unconditionally. Even if she herself did not get any of that love in return. Her eyes watered at the thought, she may not get any happiness but she would risk everything for her child’s.

She was unaware of Jake’s eyes still on her figure.

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#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yawnetu #avatar the way of water #x reader #atwow #avatar 2009 #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #angst #jake sully #neytiri #mo’at #poly #talk of babies #pregnancy

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theofficialpresidentofmars · 1 month

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did I ever tell you guys about how I would adapt (the tragedy of) Hamlet (prince of Denmark) if ever given the chance. because I have so many thoughts and I’m adding onto them all the time so here’s a post with all my ideas compiled.

- firstly, it would be an animated mini-series of five episodes, each one corresponding to an Act. I think Animation is a highly under-utilised and underappreciated medium that would suit this particular story well in terms of what it could achieve visually and also these are just a bunch of words to say I’m heavily biased towards animation and just love it so much.

- there are so many fun little character design tidbits i would implement. including but not limited to: Horatio being the shortest, Claudius/Hamlet Sr identical twins (and Claudius having a Scar reminiscent scar on his face for the drama… and also the eventual Act 5 Scene 2 parallels when Laertes wounds Hamlet with the rapier in an incidentally similar way), Laertes having a silly curly moustache, Horatio and Ophelia resembling the other, Hamlet looking tired, pale and ghostly at all times, character’s hair being used as a way to show passing of time (Hamlet having hair on the long side of short in Act 1, growing but in a little ponytail over Act 2, medium-length and unkempt in Acts 3 & 4, and cut shortly and neatly in Act 5. also Ophelia’s hair growing noticeably as well and being often neatly braided with little flowers in Acts 1-2, loosely braided without flowers in Act 3, but being down and wild in Act 4 etc), and so on so forth.

- I would shamelessly be including flashbacks to pre-tragedy memories of the castle/inhabitants. Baby R&G&H running through the castle halls and playing hide and seek. Hamlet actually, god forbid, practicing fencing. The Players entertaining at the castle in Hamlet’s youth. Ophelia and Hamlet sneaking out into the garden beneath the willows by the pond, Hamlet braiding flowers into her hair while they sit together. Yorick entertaining baby Hamlet. All coloured with the softest, goldenest glows that nostalgia can manage to contrast the desaturated depressive hues of the current day. I think a lot of the tragedy of *Hamlet* specifically lies in comparing what was to what ended up being, and since the play starts after Hamlet’s entered his mourning period, it’s hard to fully comprehend the true nature of such a fall.

- Each Act having a lovely stylised title card in its introduction with themes and motifs that are specifically prevalent throughout. Act 3 would have curtains, for example, given the play staging and Polonius’ later poor choice of hiding place. Act 5 introduces the classic skull we all know and love.

- Very purposeful dramatic lighting and colour throughout. Daylight lighting and then the switch to a lot of Hamlet’s soliloquies seeming to appear under more ‘spotlight’ lighting. Early evening during the play, sunset during the scene where Claudius prays (golden light tricking through beautiful stained-glass windows), nightfall when Hamlet yells at Gertrude. Lighting also being used to dramatise entrances perhaps, such as Claudius’s prayer being interrupted by the shift to ‘spotlight’ lighting before we even see Hamlet at the door.

- Same goes with music and motifs, interwoven character leitmotifs and themes that shift keys and qualities and work together to make larger pieces and show up to herald the arrival of a character, or turn sour to match their emotions.

- the visual humour of the play being upped, as well as the wordy humour being emphasised, in order to really contrast the shift in tone throughout the halves of the play. I’ve always been a tragicomedy truther when it comes to Hamlet, I think if done well it could be a really neat way to get the audience to invest more in the characters while also really highlighting how quickly everything goes south.

Probably add more on as I go

#hamlet #hamletposting #shakespeare

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riconas · 8 months

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Can I maybe prompt a glimpse of Aeon finally realizing he is loved? I am intrigued 👀 (and I thirst for hurt/comfort)

It happens gradually.

When Dew offers to rub his shoulders after his first ritual, because he knows exactly how heavy those Fantomens are, and he doesn't like the thought of Aeon waking up stiff for the next six weeks. Aeon goes a deep shade of maroon, and insists he's fine, but deep down, he's grateful. Dew's hands are warm and strong and far nicer than the stinging hot massage oil Aeon tries to apply by himself. His shoulders are quite sore, after all.

When Cirrus lets him sleep on her lap in the bus, because he's too exhausted to stay awake until their next rest stop. She gets down at the next convenience store and goes out of her way to buy him his favourite snacks, not wanting to disturb him by waking him up. Aeon stumbles over his words when he tries to thank her. (He still thinks Cirrus is too cool for him.) Cirrus just laughs and feeds him cola Haribo gummies for the rest of the ride.

When Rain comes barging into his room with an armful of spare duvets and throw blankets, because the first flecks of snow have begun to fall, and he doesn't want Aeon freezing into a solid when the cold starts to get inside. He makes Aeon sit in front of the fireplace after dinner every night, and plays with his horns while he snoozes on the rug. Aeon wakes up with tiny braids strewn throughout his hair, and a blanket thrown over him, and a pillow tucked underneath his head. Rain is still there.

When Cumulus leaves a little crochet bat plushie on his bed back at the abbey, and Aeon spends the whole day teary and emotional with his bat held to his chest. He can't thank her enough - he holds it until he's sure it's infused with all the quintessence seeping out of him. Cumulus lets him pick the colours for the matching bat she plans to make for Aurora, because Aeon knows Aurora best, and Cumulus wants to get it right. (One week later, Dew comes down with the flu, and Aeon lets him have the bat for a night. He's all better the next day.)

When Swiss finds him crying in his bunk after a particularly bad run, and climbs in without asking, lifting the blanket to tuck himself into the tiny space. He plasters himself to Aeon's back without saying a word, and he doesn't tell Aeon to shh when Aeon starts crying harder. He holds Aeon all night, and he's still there when Aeon wakes up puffy-eyed in the morning. Swiss smells a little like Aether, because of the quintessence he carries. That helps a lot.

When Mountain finds him in the kitchen one morning, burning a pancake to a crisp, and offers to teach him how not to set the smoke alarm off. Aeon, sheepish and more than a little embarrassed, accepts the help. He spends the next half hour with Mountain pressed to his back, chin propped on his shoulder as he explains what all the herbs on the windowsill are for. Whenever Aeon does something right, Mountain gives him a peck between the horns.

When Copia tells Aeon he's done a wonderful job, even though he missed three different cues in one show, and gives him a sweet little rub on the head. In his excitement, Aeon accidentally flicks Copia with his tail. Copia tells him it is very cute, and he will ask the Ministry if the ghouls can keep their tails unglamoured, for their comfort.

When Aurora misses their post-show hug one time, and spends the next three days stuck to his side like a limpet, to "make up for it." She personally evicts Rain from Aeon's hotel room so she can sleep with him instead, and though Aeon wakes up with a mouth full of blonde hair, he still finds a way to kiss her on the forehead. (He quite prefers rooming with Aurora, actually. She doesn't hog the blanket.) And if their hugs are a few seconds longer after that—well, Aeon isn't one to say.

But y'know. Gradually.

#rico writes #rico's ficlets #hmmm next slice of life fic when?#aeon ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost fanfiction #fluff

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ryuwonieebae · 9 months

Text

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒓

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𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐒 (에스쿱스), Imagines, One-shot

Genre : fluff, romance

Pairing : Dad!Seungcheol x fem!reader

Warning : use of pet names, Scoups is scared of y/n!

A/n : This fanfiction is purely based on my imagination only. It's totally fictional. I hope this is good enough to make you guys happy. I'm still learning to write creatively. Thank you for supporting me. It means a lot to me. Thanks to my besties too<3...

When you thought that your daughter is a soft girl but boy she proved you wrong...

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"Mommy! mommy!" your 5-year-old daughter came running excitedly while calling out to you. Her excitement made you curious. With her tiny steps, and her dimple smile which she inherited from her dad, she looked even more adorable.

"Slow down, sweetheart. You might fall" you said in your most calming tone, slowly crouching down to her height.

"It doesn't matter. But what matters now is that I punched a boy!" she stated while giving you an innocent smile while your jaw dropped.

"You did what!? Choi Seung-hee! It's not–"

"Before you scold me listen to the story. So, actually what happened was (a huge sigh). I-was-minding-my-own-business-when-that-kid-came-and-started-teasing-me-and-it-made-me-angry-an–"

"Okay okay enough, I got the point but still punching someone isn't a good deed, right"

Seunghee nodded

"What if he tells about it to his parents? You might get scolded, sweetheart" even though you were disappointed, you couldn't be mad at your daughter. After all, she's just 5.

"Don't worry, mommy. I blackmailed him by saying that I'll will smack him again and again if he told about it to anyone" that's when you realised who could be behind this drama.

"You know what? Go to your room, dear. I'll talk to you later" with a reassuring smile, you sent your daughter back to her bedroom.

[FLASHBACK]

"Yah! YOU! ASPARAGUSEU! How DARE you touch my book!?

"I just touched it! You shorty!"

"You touched it!" you hit his head so hard that he felt like the whole world started to spin. Anger took over 10-year-old Seungcheol as he pulled 8-year-old y/n's braid causing her to flinch. You roared and pulled his short hair back which ended up being a big fight for no reason.

The front door opened revealing excited Seungcheol with two bouquets, one larger than the other filled with colourful roses and chocolates while the other one was decorated with baby breaths and a cute teddy bear.

Seunghee ran towards him with a wide grin, showing off her dimple. Seungcheol dropped his things and carefully placed the bouquets on the ground while crouching as soon as he saw his adorable daughter heading towards him. He scooped his daughter and embraced her, placing kisses all over her face.

Seunghee giggled and whispered something in Seungcheol's ear which he responded by nodding his head. He carefully put his daughter as if she's fragile. He made a shushing sound cutely and tiptoed into the house like a pro thief with his daughter following her dad's act.

"CHOI SEUNGCHEOL... "

Seungcheol stopped in his tracks and turned around only to catch the sight of you shooting death glares at him. He was panicking but managed to form a fake smile.

"I need an explanation" shiver ran down his spine at your demanding tone. No one would've expected the most fearsome person to be scared of his wife. Seunghee sprinted away while Seungcheol went after his precious wife.

"Explain"

"Babe, Seunghee told me that a kid is teasing her. I don't want our daughter to be bullied so"

"So?"

"I'm the one who told her to punch the boy"

"Do know how problematic and spoiled she could become if you kept telling her to hit kids and spoiling her. I wonder if she has anger issues at this age"

"I know but don't you think she has to know how to protect herself and about her anger, I don't think you need an explanation. We're her parents after all"

"She's just a kid, Cheol. Plus, as her parents we should take proper action by telling to the teacher not influencing her to hit someone"

Seungcheol took hold of your hand and made you sit on the soft bed when he noticed how much you were getting stressed. He slowly caressed your hand leisurely and pestered a kiss on your temple, washing away all your stress.

"I'm sorry, okay? Don't forget that we also used to be like this when we were her age"

Seungcheol apologised sincerely and fondled your 7-month belly delicately.

"You shouldn't be stressed, remember? It's not good for our baby"

"Sometimes I indeed wanna punch your papa but I'm afraid that his charming visuals will be ruined. Life is cruel isn't it?" you questioned your unborn baby who had no idea what was going on.

"Look who's speaking about cruelty" Seungcheol rolled his eyes in a teasing way only to earn a hard smack from you.

"Okay okay calm down my raging wife" he uttered while patting your head, embracing you, and planting butterfly kisses on your neck and your belly. You tittered stroking Seungcheol's blonde hair knowing how your unborn baby will grow up having a big sister like Seunghee.

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clockwork-ashes · 3 months

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@sjmromanceweek

Summary: Gwyn and Az go on their first date.

Gwyn had been feeling remarkably brave lately.

Just a couple of months ago, Gwyn had started going on weekly outings with Nesta and Emerie in the city, simply because she felt like it. Just last week, she’d spent several days in Dawn studying some ancient scrolls with no one but Merrill and Ananke as company. Just yesterday, Gwyn had gone with Azriel, Nesta, and Cassian to a new bookshop-cafe overlooking the Sidra.

And just that morning, when Azriel had suggested they go for dessert – only the two of them – Gwyn had said yes without a moment’s hesitation.

Gwyn had, of course, run to Nesta with the news. Gwyn had found her friend curled up on the comfortable couch by one of the library windows, reading a new book. She had thrown herself at the seat, speaking quickly and without a care about having interrupted Nesta’s quiet reading.

“I have to tell Cassian,” Nesta had said, triumph in her blue-grey eyes, her book forgotten at her side. “I knew it, I’ve been telling Cass all week that Az was going to ask you on a date.”

Gwyn had hoped that was what Azriel had been intending, but she had not been entirely sure. All the same, when Nesta had offered to braid her hair and help her find a pretty dress, Gwyn had been quick to take her up on the offer.

Az had come to her dressed in all-black, looking as lovely as ever, and acting as though there was nothing happening that was out of the ordinary.

When Az had taken her hand in his much larger one to winnow them from the House of Wind onto the still-sunny streets of Velaris, Gwyn had brushed it off as a friendly gesture. When Az had not immediately let go, and then had proceeded to interlock their fingers as he led her down the busy, pedestrian-filled walkways, Gwyn still wondered if perhaps she was overthinking and simply assuming Azriel had any sort of romantic intentions.

Perhaps Nesta’s enthusiastic claim that Cassian now owed her for always being right about everything had given Gwyn the wrong impression and had unnecessarily raised her hopes.

Two slices of cake and three cups of coffee later, Gwyn could state with great confidence that Azriel had, in fact, asked her out on a date.

Azriel was holding her hand again as they left the quiet cafe, and Gwyn’s cheeks hurt from how much she’d been smiling. His shadows were trailing lazily behind them, more coming to follow now that the sun had gone down. Azriel held her hand as they walked along the city streets, undeniably so much lovelier at night, all the way back to the House of Wind.

“I don’t believe you.”

“And yet,” Azriel said, a smile in the tone of his voice.

“Black can’t be your favourite colour,” Gwyn shook her head, a few copper strands of hair freeing themselves from her intricate braid, “Too predictable.”

“I also like very, very dark shades of blue,” he replied, amusement lacing the words.

Gwyn’s laughter was loud, unguarded, as Azriel winnowed them right to her room, just outside her door.

“I had a really nice time,” Gwyn told him, hoping he felt the same. She placed her hand on the doorknob just in case Azriel had had an awful night and she needed to escape to her room and not have to face him until training.

“That’s a relief,” Az smiled, and Gwyn thought she had never seen anything lovelier. “Nesta threatened to gut me with a soup spoon if you came home unhappy.”

Gwyn laughed and one of Azriel’s shadows darted towards the fingers she still had lingering by the door.

“Goodnight, Gwyn.”

Gwyn was planning to wish Azriel a goodnight, maybe even be forward enough to suggest they do something like this again sometime soon.

The Gwyn of a few months ago would have done just that, but she was feeling a small pull, ever so gentle, towards Azriel. And, as Gwyn had noticed, she was feeling remarkably brave lately.

Azriel was standing so close, his wings making it seem as though only the space between them existed. Holding his wrist, careful to make it quick so she would not lose her courage, Gwyn got on the tips of her toes and kissed Azriel, only for a brief moment, on the lips. She felt her cheeks burning, her heart beating thunderously in her ears.

“Good night,” Gwyn breathed, rushing into her room to rather rudely slam the door shut. Despite her best efforts not to give Azriel one last look, she still managed to catch the surprised smile on his face.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #gwyneth berdara #azriel #gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #sjmromanceweek2024 #ashes writes sometimes

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elegantsplendour · 9 months

Text

Love is a Downfall Part II

Masterlist Part I

Summary

One girl, two dragons.

Bound to one, attached to an another.

Love is the most powerful form of magic.

Love is the fuel that leads to destruction.

Fear leads of anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x !Redwyne reader x Aegon ii Targaryen

Warnings / contains (in this part): fluff, angst, smut, dirty talk

Tag list: @marvelescvpe @snh96 @femmechaotic @heavenly1927

Friends: @purple-writer8 @vhagarswar @lovelykhaleesiii @boundlessfantasy @arcielee @amiraisgoingthruit @kaelatargaryen

“My Queen.”

She turned around and smiled at his approaching figure, slender and statuesque. It was rare for her prince to be dressed in such opulence, in the colour of his house, instead of his usual black leather suit, the attire of the protector.

She closed her eyes as his arms wrapped around her petite waist, restrained by the agonizingly exquisite wedding gown, adorned by jewelry and fine silk with a weight of its own. Aemond pressed a delicate kiss on the petal-like skin of her neck, a realm he had explored and worshipped boundless times, yet that kiss seemed like a sorrowful goodbye.

In two short hours, she would drift two gigantic steps away from him.

His brother’s wife.

The Queen of Seven Kingdoms.

“I love you,” the grip of his skin on hers grew tighter, Aemond savoured the touch of her body, a reminder that she was real and with him. The weeks of anticipation, whispers of joy among both the highborn and commoners around the city, and excessive spending on opulent goods appeared to the One-Eyed Prince like a cruel and ironic preparation of his own funeral, a mocking celebration of his own inescapable fate.

The second prince.

The second choice.

Always and forever.

But not to her.

“I know,” she leaned into his kiss, arching her neck backwards, locking eyes with her sweet prince, “I love you too,” she whispered with adoration while kissing his thin lips with a passion like the candles in the Grand Sept of her soon to be wedding. While the realm followed the Faith of the Seven, Aemond Targaryen was her faith, her dreams, her beyond.

As the hour of the royal union approached with an agonizing pace, the prince departed his lips from hers and extended his arms, “Shall we?”

She gracefully held onto his arms and nodded, “We shall.”

Just as the two were about to exit her chamber, she ceased their advance, “Aemond,” she reached to touch his cheek, “Nothing changes. We’ll still be together, the two of us. Just like what we three promised a fortnight ago.”

He smiled faintly, “I know,” pressing one last kiss on her lips, “My Queen, but it doesn’t make it hurt less.”

Her hands on his cheekbones quivered at his admission, with a pearl streaming down her left eye.

Aemond enclosed their distance, kissing away and savouring her bittersweet tear, “Don’t cry,” his long fingers stroked her meticulously braided hair, “It would ruin your regal appearance.”

“I don’t care about my regal appearance,” her breaths quickened with sobs, “I care about you.”

“But he does.”

“Aegon? Not in a million years,” she chuckled yet choked with emotions, “He cares not if I was embellished like a gigantic doll or drunken after a night of indulgence. He knows every inch of me.”

She bit her tongue and clenched her fists in regret as she caught a glimpse of the heartache in Aemond’s eye.

“I am glad,” he smiled with melancholy, “That he can give you what I cannot. Don’t apologize for it, my love.”

Every fibre in his being screamed:

If only.

If only it had been him born on the same day as her and not Aegon.

A moment later, the crowd of lords and ladies, including Queen Alicent herself, cheered as Prince Aemond escorted Lady Redwyne, the queen to be crowned, to the carriage.

The way to the Dragonpit was quiet for her. However, Alicent recounted relentlessly her overwhelming memories of Aegon and her youth, how he became more responsible for her, how they were meant for each other, and how glad and proud she was of herself succeeding in to marry children for love.

“Thank you, mother. I love you,” she smiled.

It was the first time she had called Alicent that name.

“What did you call me, child?” Alicent’s voice quivered.

She placed her hand on top of the queen’s, “Just the figure you’ve always been to me,’ she squeezed her hand, declaring genuinely, “I mean it, Mother.”

She gazed into the woman she grew to love with a slight giggle as she realized that Alicent was overwhelmed by emotions and was finding the right words to say.

“You know,” Alicent spoke with a light chortle, “Rhaenyra had never forgiven Erya for leaving you to my care. And it’s part of the reason why things between our houses turned out the way they did.”

She frowned momentarily, a distaste rising in her stomach at the name of the woman who had asked for her and Aemond’s torture, “Rhaenyra and my mother were close?”

Alicent nodded hesitantly, “More than close, we three shared a…” She lowered her head with a bitter smile, “Special connection. Especially Rhaenyra and Erya. Of course, that was before duty to our houses tore us to different paths.”

Alicent squeezed her hand with a rare display of authentic contentment, “Which is why you and Aegon…” the queen wiped away her tears of excitement, “You know, my dear child, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but building a union for my children built on love… it’s the greatest thing I’ve accomplished.”

Alicent reached out her arms and held her in an embrace, sharing her daughter’s bliss and rejoicing in the fruit of her decisions that led to this day.

As the carriage reached Dragonpit, the mass awaited with anticipation as the dutiful, regal and commanding figure of Prince Aemond awaited for the bride.

“My queen,” he nodded courteously, yet his tone devoid of emotions, avoiding her eyes, “The king awaits.”

With a refined smile, she held her head high and held onto the prince’s extending arm.

Awe was painted on the assemblage, royalty, nobility, and even the commoners.

Aemond counted a hundred steps and fifty-three steps from the gate of the Dragonpit, crossing the path carved out by the solemn ceremonial guards, to the podium of the dome, to Aegon’s side.

The escort of the future queen was a great honour. Every pace he took symbolized the distance between himself and everything he desired, power, glory, recognition, legacy, her. Yet, the tormenting reminder was an unprecedented honour, a very one that his brother granted.

“My king,” Aemond lowered his head cordially as he gave her hand to the king-to-be.

She looked at Aegon with a mixture of pride, trust and love.

“What, my sweet love?” Aegon whispered in her ears as he led her to kneel beside him, awaiting the coronation, with a teasing chuckle, “Too smitten by how handsome I look today?”

She rolled her eyes, containing her laughter with efforts and whispered back, “Even being the king can’t make you less insufferable, but your appearance does tempt me to bite you tonight.”

Ser Cole and Otto Hightower frowned deeply at the playful exchange between the king and queen-to-be, yet the dowager queen seemed to be amused.

Within minutes, the Conqueror’s Crown was placed on Aegon while a platinum crown forged by the rarest of silver and diamond landed on her.

“All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, Rhoynars and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

“My king, my queen,” Ser Cole bowed, followed by the rest of the court and eventually, the rest of the mass.

As the cheering and applause gradually erupted among the commoners, the king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms raised in all of their might and glory. Blackfyre, the legendary Valyrian sword of the Conqueror, now was now drawn by his descendant’s hand, conveying the unquestionable order of succession.

With a gasp from the highborn, a few commoners threw joyfully bouquets into the king and queen’s hands.

She giggled uncontrollably and exulted in the sweet scent of the flowers, for it represented the genuine love from the people they have sworn to protect on govern.

The courtiers exchanged amused whispers at the scene, for the mass’ reaction wasn’t entirely surprising. The tales of the rebellious young prince and his beautiful and destined betrothed were etched in the memories of the old and the youth.

Suddenly, her vision swirled as Aegon pulled her into a breathless kiss, a bold testament to their union.

While the Septons and maesters looked at each widened eyes of disapproval and astonishment. Roars of cheers thundered in the Dragonpit.

She returned with an equal fever. Her hands pulling her king so close as if their bodies melted together.

At that moment, no one else existed, not the judging eyes of the Seven, not the courtiers, not even Aemond, just her and her husband, the person she mumbled her first word to, cuddled within the nursery, stole lemon cakes from the kitchen, cried and bullied together in the garden, blushed for the first time and explored the realm of pleasure together.

The king held her tighter, his tongue still dancing, exploring the depth of her mouth. The ebony of the Conqueror’s Crown and the silvery white diamond tiara glimmered through the solemnity.

All eyes but one mesmerized the scene that would later unfold into a fabled tale. Aemond fixated his gaze on the gray walls of the Dragonpit and relived the bitter memories of the mockery of lack of dragon he had endured in the hands of his brother and nephews.

But above all, the memories of her, the enlightening memories of her smile, the touch of her hands as she whispered her faith in his strength, the conviction in her voice when she encouraged him to claim Vhagar.

A part of her is his, his only; Aemond repeated it repeatedly like a spell of a curse that plagued his mind as he forced himself to meet the reality, her bond with his brother that he would never share.

The rest of the day ended in exhaustion for the entire royal family, especially the royal couple. As everyone in court had anticipated, the bedding ceremony was out of the question. Despite whispers of the young king’s liking for thrill being no secret, his taste could never extend at the well-being of his “sweet love.” Not to mention the intimidating presence of Prince Aemond, the protective brotherly figure (as everyone presumed) threatened to murder any person who dared speak such a proposal.

As the final toast to the royal couple came to an end. The room yelped as the queen fell into the king’s arms. It must have been the effect of wine. Everyone murmured.

The guests looked at each other with surprise as they saw Prince Aemond’s calmness at the scene. Little did they know that it was because the prince knew his brother and his queen to the core…

“They’re all gone?” She whispered mischievously in Aegon’s chest as he carried her supposedly drunken body through the halls of the Red Keep to their marital chamber.

“Gone like how your annoying gown will be in minutes,” Aegon grinned as he practically ran into their freshly decorated wedding chamber.

She hopped off her husband’s arms and buried her face in the bed, “Finally…” she nestled in the softness of the pillows as she gazed at Aegon, amused and desiring, “This is perfect.”

He chuckled and joined her instantly by jumping on the bed and tickling her sides, making her laugh and protest.

“Stop it! I’m serious!” She playfully bit his arm, writhing in his embrace.

“Ouch, my sweet,” Aegon whined teasingly while sinking his lips in the fragile skin of her neck, “You really were serious about biting me earlier today, huh?”

Giggling tantalizingly, she rolled herself on top of him as swiftly as a viper, “Just make me yours already.”

“Gods,” the beast under her groaned as he sat up to undo her intricate laces, “But you have already been mine,” he smirked, “Over and over again.”

“Just rip it off,” she pouted impatiently.

With a growl, he tore the exquisite wedding gown off her body and feasted on her skin ferociously.

“I feel as if being strangled by that stupid dress,” she gasped for air as she wrapped her arms around Aegon and dragged him down on top of her.

They looked at each other deeply in silence for a moment.

They are husband and wife.

They’ve known that this moment had been their destiny since they came into the world together.

“Lord husband,” she purred, tracing her fingers on his chubby yet devilishly handsome cheek.

“Seven Hells,” Aegon grumbled as he felt his bulge growing hard in his trousers, “You’ll be the death of me, my sweet lady wife.”

“What?!” She gasped as Aegon lift her up to sit on his thighs.

“Ride me, little one,” the king bit her earlobe while caressing the scar on her thigh.

With a frown, she unbuckled his pants with her inexperienced hands and pouted, “You lazy dragon. It is your wedding night and you leave all the work to your lady wife.”

As soon she saw the smug and satisfied look on her husband’s face, the way he laid indolently on his arms behind his head, her breath hitched with annoyance and desire, “What would all the court think if they knew? That the queen has to take matters into her own hands to make an heir?”

Fuck that smirk on his face.

She cursed.

Aegon chuckled as she placed his hands on her round cheeks of her bottom, her body arched and leaned down, an obvious feigned innocence painted on face.

“If you cannot fulfill your marital duty, your grace, I would have to seek help from Prince Aemond,” she whispered, her words chosen very intentionally, “Since his cock works much more ferociously than yours.”

Oh those words awoke the dragon…

“On your hands and knees,” Aegon flipped her down on her stomach, watching his little creature obey his command with unconfined giggles.

“That’s more like it,” she purred while arching her back, tempting the most powerful man of Westeros, “I hear this is how they take whores on the Street of Silk,” she grinned looking back at him, wriggling her hips, in invitation, “Aegon, are you going to treat me like a whore?”

With a deep chuckle, the king delivered a form smack on her backside, “Yes, I am,” his hands gripped her hips tightly, pressing his hard length against her before thrusting into her roughly, “I will treat you like the most desirable whore in all of Westeros.”

She pushed back eagerly to meet his every stroke, occasionally looking back at him with teasing and provocative eyes, perfectly aware of their effect on the beast pounding into her.

“Spoiled little queen, always asking for punishment,” Aegon growled, thrusting hard and spanking her sharply as she tormented him again with her pretense of naivety, “But your king will spoil you rotten just like you deserve.”

“Yes… Spoil… me,” she moaned loudly in gasping breaths.

He hovered over her back and stuffed a pillow under her stomach, “Tell me what you feel, my sweet. Tell me everything.”

She couldn’t answer but moan at the exquisite sensation he was delivering, “Gods… I see Seven Heavens. You… you are so big.”

He grinned and met her hips with his with more force, “And your little cunny is doing so well, so good, tightening around for my cock.”

She whined at his crude language. Clenching onto the sheets, she responded in equal obscenity, “I love the sound of you slamming into me.”

Breath hitched. He took a strand of her hair and pulled it back with just the right amount of force, exposing her porcelain neck.

“Are you sure you’re not the one slamming into me right now, hmm?” He whispered wickedly, his hand still tangling in her hair, “So desperate. So eager to be pleased, so eager to please.”

She couldn’t do anything but to moan at her husband’s teasing met with the sinful slapping of their skins. Biting her lips almost violently, she demanded, “Harder, faster. Give me all of you,” she tilted her head back playfully, “I dare you.”

His immediate response was wordless.

Another sharp smack on her bottom before pulling her hips up and digging his fingers into her flesh once more, “Oh I will. I am going to fuck you until you can’t think straight,” he squeezed her backside, “My spoiled, sweet little brat.”

For what endured like an eternity, they were lost in each other.

Each moan, thrust and growl exacerbated the mind-blowing waves of pleasure washing them over and over again.

Finally, Aegon spilled inside her as she screamed his name.

“I love you, my sweet love,” Aegon whispered with adoration as he immediately pulled her into his arms, his arms enveloping her steadily.

She smiled and instinctively longed to return the affection.

Yet the words were choked in her throat.

I love you.

The words from the thin lips of her prince spread in her heart like a sweet poison.

She loved Aegon.

She loved both.

Why?

Then why was it so hard to say it back?

“I love you too,” she bit her lips and nestled in her husband’s chest.

It was an answer from the mind yet not from the heart.

Her hands clenched around the skin of Aegon’s chest while a drop of bitter and confusing liquid formed in her eyes.

Aegon, seemed to have noticed the storm within her, but her earlobe and asked, “Are you thinking of him?”

She nestled closer to his neck and whimpered, “He’s not like us. He’s hurting.”

Aegon sighed as he caressed her cheeks, “I know. He’s my little brother. I hate to see him suffer.”

She wiped away her tears and gazed into his eyes, “I just wish he could be happy with our arrangement,” she squeezed her eyes again and sobbed, “I just want him to be happy.”

“My sweet,” Aegon spoke again with a heavy heart after a moment of silence, “There is something you need to know.”

“A moon ago, Aemond asked me to send him to fight the recent Dornish invasions,” Aegon confessed, holding her hand tightly, “He specifically asked me hold his request from you.”

“Does…” her lips trembled with hurt, “The idea of seeing us together truly pains him so much that he would rather fight a war and risk his life?”

“No,” Aegon patted her shoulders with assurance, “A part of it, perhaps. But, you know Aemond, he wants to leave a legacy.”

She opened her mouth to speak, the shock evident in her voice, “He… He wishes to be the one who conquers Dorne.”

She grasped the truth nervously.

Vhagar… Visenya…

Of course.

Aemond desired more than what he was handed to him.

He will never be satisfied.

He would not be himself without his thirst for the world.

“I guess if we truly love someone,” she smiled faintly, “We accept and embrace who they are.”

“When is he leaving?” She asked softly.

Aegon hesitated before answering, “In three days.”

She buried her face in her hands before jumping off the bed and directing to the window, bathing her her body under the moonlight.

The world seemed to shake as the news sank in her heart. That familiar yet distant burning and aching sensation consumed her again, like the night he had claimed Vhagar.

She had never told anyone about it, not even Aemond himself.

She held her hand against her heart, as the mere possibility of losing him, or even a new scar etching on his skin incited a sharp pain in her spirit as if a merciless falcon was feasting on her body.

“He is the rider of the largest dragon in the world,” Aegon’s voice slowly soothed her anxiety as he wrapped his arms around her waist, “And soon, he will be the wielder of Dark Sister,” his lips teased her cheek, “News from Dragonstone have it that our old uncle has been infested with a mysterious contagious disease. He won’t have long.”

The corners of her lips rose slightly at the news of the Rogue Prince’s soon demise, “That’s good to hear…”

She turned to face the loving face of her king again and smiled, “Let’s go to sleep. Everything can wait til morrow.”

With that, she led her husband into the bed and fell into a deep slumber.

Although the worries, confusion and longing still flawed her heart, Aegon’s arms, the embrace of the man was a part of her, always had the inexplicably magical effect of soothing the deepest of her turmoils.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Your Graces,” Aemond nodded coolly at the freshly attired and newly wed, royal couple.

Without reservation, she embraced him boldly, ignorant of the widened eyes of the passing servants.

She whispered, “If you ever call me ‘your grace’ again in private, I swear I will scream.”

The prince couldn’t help but to chuckle at her comment while the king smirked in approval.

“I’ve heard that you intend to ride to suppress the Dornish assaults on the borders,” she gripped Aemond’s cold hand, the desperation in her voice well concealed, “I simply hoped you did not feel the obligation to keep it from me. I would stand by you through anything, you know that.”

Aemond shivered at her touch.

She knows.

Selfless she had always been.

He could see in her eyes the depth of her anguish.

I will stand by you through anything.

He chose his path of legacy over her, over being there for the birth of her first child, his brother’s child.

Once he embarks on this journey, he shall not return for a year.

“Pardon me, your grace,” he addressed Aegon, avoiding her gaze and stepping away from both of them hastily.

Three.

Two.

One.

Since that abrupt meeting the morning of post the wedding night, Aemond was nowhere to be found except in the war council.

It was the night before his departure, the hour of the eel.

The queen stood still before the massive balcony of her private chamber. It was the first night Aegon and she had spent separately.

She never had to explain herself.

Aegon knew.

Every alteration of her heartbeat, every tremble of her hand, every worry in her mind, he knew.

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t have to face him to recognize his presence.

“I did not mean to cause you pain,” the slender fingers entwined with hers.

She stayed in silence, her face stoic, still angry at his negligence, although her hands betrayed her.

“I hate you,” she nuzzled against his nose before pushing him away, muffling her sobs with her hands, “For a year I will suffer your absence, the possibility of losing you. And you shunned me out-“

Aemond silenced her with a kiss, tasting bittersweet mixture of her lips and wistful tears.

He lifted her body to the wooden table on which they’d made love many times before.

“We can’t,” she whimpered, “The first child must be Aegon’s.”

The ardour in the prince’s movements promptly cooled down as if being drowned in a bucket of ice water.

“Right,” Aemond took a stride back, his one eye gazing at her tears-stricken fragile figure with an intensity that could match the very dragon flame that had forged the Iron Throne.

“Did you know that you will wield Dark Sister soon?” She caressed his cheek, attempting to mask her sorrow with pride.

“What will they call me, my queen?” Aemond teased, “The second Rogue Prince or Visenya reincarnated?”

“Neither,” she brushed her finger in his nose playfully, “You will be remembered as Aemond Targaryen, the first of his name, the Conqueror of Dorne. I have faith in you. I always have.”

Aemond tightened his grip on her waist, his voice low and cracking, “You’ve always been with me.”

“Always, even if I cannot be there with you,” she gently wrapped her legs around his waist.

Suddenly, an idea birthed in her head. She hopped of the desk, grabbing the prince’s confused hands and led him to the vanity table.

“Sit,” she pressed Aemond’s shoulders mischievously, “Your queen is about to tend you a royal braiding.”

A bright red crept on the prince’s pale skin as she bent down, pressing a kiss filled with adoration on his cheek, “I will miss you, and Vhagar too.”

“She wishes to fly with you again,” Aemond confessed, “The dragon loves you as much as her rider.”

“I shall,” she chuckled as her fingers moved into his exquisite silver lock, “My aunt Bryana taught me the art of braiding. In the Reach, having your hair braided by a lover's hand is believed to bring good luck, though I do not think you need any.”

Aemond relished the sensation of her hands buried in his hair, her soft chuckles and jests.

Selfless, caring, gentle, pure.

That was who she was.

Since that fateful night on Driftmark, a profound resentment toward physical touches had grown within the One-Eyed Prince.

It was perhaps one of the reasons why he revelled and excelled in the art of the sword.

The proximity of the opponents, their vigilant posture, the mixture of fear and viciousness reminded him of the horror both she and he suffered under the hands of the Strongs.

While others’ closeness risked to trigger his monstrosity, hers awakened warmth and serenity.

As her fingers explored the depth of his head with delicacy, he could feel her hot breath on his lost eye.

The memories invaded.

His lost eye continued to flow streams of blood while the other was forced to watch Jacaerys’ training in swordsmanship overpowering her advantage in height, her being chocked helplessly on the cold ground.

Their eyes locked.

She looked at him with despair.

Sorry. Her eyes told him. I am sorry that I couldn’t protect you.

“I love you,” Aemond seized her hands as the last strand of his lock was weaved, “I swear to you, I will return victorious.”

Slowly pacing to his side to sit on his laps, she blinked, “And when you come back to me, I want to carry your little dragons.”

“Aegon does not object?” He asked while caressing that agonizingly beautiful scar on her thigh.

She rolled her eyes teasingly, “Of course, he doesn’t. That’s the least the king could do when his little brother fights a war for him.”

As the first ray of sunlight bathed the Red Keep in a golden glow, Aemond Targaryen and Criston Cole began their march southward, setting in motion a war that scholars and scribes from across the realm would pore over the tale.

As centuries passed, the Dornish historians recounted the bloodiest battles that shook the realm during the decades-long War of Westerosi Conquest. Among them, none rivalled the ferocity and chaos each time the One-Eyed monster returned from King's Landing, his silver locks intertwined with an elegance and grace that only the skilled hands of the Westerosi queen could bestow.

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yanaromanov · 26 days

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close to your heart

- rosie betzler x daughter reader

summary: rosie comforts her daughter, hesitant about leaving for her training weekend, and gives her a gift to always remember her by.

warning(s): WWII era, mentions of nazis and hitler etc., war talk, slight mention of bullying, tiny bit of angst but mostly just fluff and comfort, reader is jojo’s twin sister (age 10)

authors note: there are barely any rosie fics out there and that’s criminal so i wrote one. ps, i need her to give me a hug rn.

3.2K words

The face that stares back at you in the mirror isn’t one you quite recognise. It seems to have fallen that way over the last year, fading away to a person you didn’t entirely know. Perhaps it was added to by the attire you now adorned, the tan blazer and black skirt sitting oddly against your skin, the white shirt underneath itching at the nape of your neck. You missed the summer dresses your mother often dressed you in, the cardigans patterned with embroidered flowers or the blouses in beautiful pale colours. Now it was all stripped away to a dull uniform, your girly flowers replaced by the red jungvolk symbol stitched into the arm of your coat. It was the image of everything your twin brother loved, and everything you were so unsure about.

“Do you have everything ready, my love?”

The voice startles you from your thoughts, your head spinning from your reflection where you stood previously examining your outfit. But when you spy the owner of the voice, your tensed shoulders loosen, greeted by a soft and familiar face.

“Ja, mama,” your reply, smiling back as the blonde-haired woman walks further into your room. Her eyes glance over you, then to the desk to your left.

“Do I need to check there are more than just books in that satchel or can I trust you this time?”

Your eyes follow to the brown satchel that sits upon the wooden desk, previously packed the night before for your expedition that weekend. Despite your brother having been packed for weeks, it had taken you longer to get round to it, your excitement barren compared to his. Still now, you push a smile on to your face, looking up at your mother.

“There are more than just books. I promise.”

She looks down on you with a playfully suspicious eye, a giggle stifling itself in your throat. “Alright, I’ll believe you this time.”

As a smile creeps on to her lips, her delicate fingers find the rolled neckerchief around your collar, adjusting the woven woggle until it sits perfectly straight against your shirt. She picks an invisible piece of dust from your shoulder before her hands land atop of them, eyes glinting down on you. “Come, I’ll do your hair for you.”

Her head nods in the direction of her bedroom, just across the hall from yours, as she turns away. Guided by a hand grasping hers, you follow your mother until the pair of you stand inside her room, your eyes momentarily fluttering over the comforting patterns and colours the decorations held. In front of the mirror, you take a seat on the small cushioned stool, looking over your shoulder as your mother reaches into the drawer you know she keeps all of her beauty supplies. It’s off limits to you for now but she says she’ll teach you everything there is to know about makeup and being a woman once you’re old enough, something you can only hope comes sooner rather than later.

When your mom returns with the hair brush in her hand, you swivel back around in your spot. You watch in the reflection as she begins to pull the bristles through your hair, humming a nonsensical tune as she frees you from any knots. “Your hair is getting so long, huh?” she muses from behind as she pulls your hair back from your face, intertwining strands to form two long braids down your back. You simply watch in a peaceful silence as she continues to hum to herself, just as much concentrated on your mother’s face as the work of her fingers. No matter what, it always seemed like she was able to appear put together, perpetually beautiful even doing the most mundane of tasks.

When your braids are completed, neatly running over your shoulders, your mother reaches across to the dresser. Atop, sit two small ribbons which she pulls between her fingers, previously unnoticed by your eye. From behind, she lifts up one braid at a time, tying the ribbon around the bottom until she places them both at the front, two perfect little bows in place. The blonde’s head comes to rest upon yours, both of your eyes meeting in the reflection of the mirror. She smiles widely as she looks back at you. “Beautiful.”

A small kiss is placed on the crown of your head before your mother turns away, returning to her dresser and the secret beauty drawer it holds. While she tidies away, your eyes remain fixed on your reflection. For a moment, your fingers reach up to touch the small ribbons in your hair, the material soft and silky against your skin. Then they drop to your lap, a small sigh exiting your lips. The distraction of your mother’s soft touch has now gone, your mind fading back to the small distress it found looking at yourself just ten minutes before.

It seems with your sigh, you show more expression that you intended, and with it, you cause your mother to turn in her spot. Her eye meets you again in the mirror, her smile quickly dropping into a perturbed frown. “Why such a long face, hm?” she asks, closing the gap between you both as she comes to stand behind you. “You don’t think I did a good job?”

Immediately, you shake your head, forcing a smile onto your face. “No, you did, mama.”

But this isn’t any old person you’re trying to fool. Your mother knows you like the back of her own hands, and sees straight through your forced happiness. “Then why do you look so sad?”

With her words, your expression drops once more. Your eyebrows dip as your lips fall into a pout, your gaze dropping to your lap and the pair of anxious hands that rest there. “I don’t want to go, mama.”

The words ring out familiar, something you’d not only already told your mother, but also yourself a hundred times over. The training weekend was supposed to be a great trip for the jungvolk, a chance to learn real skills surrounded by professional soldiers, but the entire idea of it made you feel rather sick to your stomach. Going to school alone made you feel a slight homesickness, longing to return back home with each hour you spent away, so the concept of an entire weekend spent out in the forest sounded almost unbearable. Perhaps it was just the idea of being away from your mother for so long that made your stomach churn, a longing attachment to her lingering around your head ever since you’d been a small child, something the other girls at school hadn’t missed out on and found opportunity to pick on you for. The entire thing wasn’t helped by the fact your brother was a complete fanatic, entirely devoted to the jungvolk and non-stop going on about the weekend and how much fun it was going to be. You, on the other hand, just couldn’t wait to be back home.

A small sigh escapes your mother’s lips as your statement befalls her ears. You feel her move beside you, then in your peripheral see her kneeling down on the carpet in front of you. “I know, darling,” she says, voice gentle. “But you have to. Who else is going to look after your brother, hm?”

You scoff as you raise your eyes to meet hers, scowling slightly as you look at her gently smiling face. “Jojo will just be with his stupid friends the whole time. And he says I can’t hang out with them because I’m a girl.”

Your mother clicks her tongue. “Ah, yes. Well, boys are stupid. A sad fact us smart girls have to learn.”

You know she’s trying to joke, trying to make you smile, but this morning it’s not in your heart. It hurts a little to ignoring her playfully smirking face, one that always has you creasing at the corners of your eyes, but still your eyes fall back to your lap, your expression returning to the sad frown the planned expedition has caused.

You hear your mother let out a small sigh, adjusting herself where she sits as a hand reaches out for one of yours, grasping and squeezing ever so gently with silken soft skin. “Maybe this weekend you can make a friend of your own, hm? Finally find someone to talk to besides your books?”

You know your mother’s words are coming from a place of warmth but still they manage to twist the knife in your gut. You’d always struggled to make friends, the girls at school never quite accepting you and always finding a reason to holler a mean comment your way. “Maybe,” you mutter under your breath, knowing that the likelihood of her proposition was next to none. The fact all the girls from your school were also attending the training weekend was just another reason for your hesitation to go. Now trying to fight back small tears that pool at the corners of your eyes, you look back up from your lap. “Why can’t I just stay here with you, mama?”

Rosie gives you that motherly look she so often does, soft but assertive. “Darling, we talked about this,” she says, head tilting, the previously spoken conversation seemingly translating through her eyes. “Besides, I have things to do while you’re away.”

You frown. “What things?”

“Mama things,” she replies, eyebrows raising.

Her response only seems to deepen your troubled expression. “You’re always doing mama things.”

Rosie sighs, adjusting herself where she kneels on the floor. “Well I have to do mama and papa things now, hm,” she hums, trying to meet your gaze that has fallen away from her face. “It’s not so easy keeping you and your brother fed, especially since he’s decided he’s the man of the house and should eat as such.”

Another joke, another one of your mother’s attempts to make you laugh. The memory of your brother’s demands surfaces in your mind, dictating that as a ‘man’ he should get a bigger portion than you because you were just a ‘little girl’. An argument had of course ensued over the fact he was only fourteen minutes older than you and that he wasn’t a man, just a little boy too. The memory of it all is one you know your mom has brought up to make you laugh, but your mind instead sticks to the previous comment befallen from her lips.

It’s been almost three years since your father had been conscripted for the war, and over two years since you’d received your last letter from him. Your mama told you constantly he was doing what he could, fighting to end the war so he could come home to all of you. But every day his absence seemed to hurt a little more, like a thousand needles poking at your little aching heart.

“I miss papa.”

The words are uttered to your lap, the tears threatening to fall off the cusp of your waterline. There’s a sound from your mother that echoes out, almost a gasp but somehow gentler. Then another, a sigh, as you hear her stand to her feet. A pair of hands reach out for yours, pulling gently and tugging you to your feet. As you stand, long arms envelope you in an embrace, one of your mother’s hands coming to rest on the back of your head. You bury yourself into her warmth as she sways gently, holding you close. “Me too, little cub,” she whispers softly. “Me too.”

For a moment, you simply bask in the comfort of her touch, hidden away in her arms from a world you didn’t want to face. “He’ll be home soon, right?”

You're pulled away from the hug, your mother holding on to your shoulders as she smiles down at you. "Very soon, my darling." Her words are meant as a comfort but you're old enough now to know they're not strong in truth, the same promise uttered to you over more months than you could care to count. Still, you take this moment to pretend to yourself that this time it is true, that very soon your family will be reunited once more.

It seems your mother must notice your still solace expression as her hands move to your own. She grabs hold gently as she turns you, guiding you towards her bed. "Here, sit," she says. You follow her instructions, sitting yourself on the edge of the mattress, watching as your mother crosses the room. You try your best to see around her as she rakes through a drawer in her desk, moments later returning with something hidden in her hand. "I was going to save this for your birthday but I think now might be a better time for you to have it." You watch intently as she kneels next to you, eyes focused on her clasped hand and whatever it may be concealing. "Plus, I think it might give you some strength for this weekend."

Curiously, you watch as her hand extends out to you, her fingers unfurling to reveal whatever gift she may have. When you spy what it is, a soft gasp elicits from your throat, eyes trained on the alluring glint radiated by the golden metal sat in your mother's open palm. You notice her smile from the corner of your eye as she reads your face. "You remember this?" she asks and you nod quickly.

A small hand reaches out to touch the piece of jewelry bundled up in her hand, fingers tracing along the chain and then the shape of the metal. "Your old locket," you reply, voice barely above a whisper as you admire the necklace, the golden centrepiece delicately inlaid with intricate swirls and patterns. There was a time your mother wore it every day, up until your father had bought her a new one for their anniversary.

Rosie hums happily at your recognition, her smile deepening. "Open it up," she says, face awaiting your reaction.

You do as she says, carefully reaching out for the necklace and taking it in your hands. With attentive fingers, you click open the clasp, opening up the locket's two halves and letting them sit delicately against your palm. A smile immediately appears on your face as you see the images printed inside, a warmth bubbling up inside your chest. On one half is your father, the other half your mother, both smiling back at you in their Sunday best. They are the same images contained within your family portrait down stairs, only this time they are hidden away in a small locket meant just for you.

"Do you like it?" Rosie asks, her face waiting in front of you. You meet her eyes with a glint, smiling wide from ear to ear.

"I love it."

The smile on your mother's face deepens as she laughs gently. "Here," she says, standing to her feet. "Let me put it on for you." You follow her to your feet, moving to stand in front of the mirror as she takes the necklace from your hand. Watching the reflection, you seen her unclasp the locket before moving it around your neck. She fastens it back up, allowing it to rest against your shirt. Quickly, she pulls your hair out from the chain, making sure it is perfectly secured around your neck before meeting your eye in the reflection. You smile widely up at her as your fingers find the locket, playing with the metal and once again tracing its engraved details. "It's beautiful, mama."

Rosie smiles, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Almost as beautiful as you." She reaches out gently for your shoulders as she turns you around to face her, bending ever so slightly at the knee to reach the same height as you. "Now," she says. "You wear this and me and papa will always be with you." Her hand reaches out towards your chest, resting to cover the locket. "Right here. Close to your heart, okay?"

You nod, feeling the warmth in your chest not only from her touch but from the sentiment of your new found gift. "Ja, mama."

Just then, the serenity of your moment is suddenly shattered as you hear a scream radiating through your house. Both you and your mother turn your head towards the door as the yells from down stairs travel through the house and to your ears. It's your brother's voice, most likely from his bedroom, screaming the same words over and over, a salute to your country's ruler. His voice gets louder as you hear him run through the house, eventually throwing the front door open and simply howling out to the outside world. As you hear it dim away, guessing he's moved away from the house and most likely down the street, you turn back to look at your mother. Her expression is rather amusing, looking quite confused but, in a way, also entirely used to your brother's odd antics. "That boy has too much energy for his own good, you know that?" she says, meeting your gaze. You laugh at her comment, imagining your brother running down the streets of town like he so often did. Just then, your mother smiles back at you, her expression immediately softening. Her fingers reach to hold your cheek, grasping so gently at your skin. "There's my beautiful smiling girl."

Her words can't help but deepen your smile, looking up her eyes so full of love and comfort. You two bask in the moment until she turns away, reaching for the small black beret that sits upon the edge of the bed. "Here," Rosie says, placing the hat upon your head and adjusting it so it sits just right. She bends at the knee, looking at you with a warm expression. "You are going to be just fine this weekend, I promise." Her hands find your shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "And when you come back, I'll give you the biggest mama lion hug in the whole world and we can eat chocolate by the fire while you tell me how annoying your brother was all trip. How does that sound?"

You meet her playful glance with a lighthearted smile of your own. "Sounds good, mama."

Rosie winks, clicking her tongue in unison, a trick that always brings a smile to both you and your brother's face. "That's my girl," she says, holding on to your chin for just a moment before she straightens up once more. She brushes away invisible dust on her trousers then smiles down at you. "Now let’s get some breakfast packed up for you and your brother. You can catch up with him and both eat it on the way, hm?"

You nod, content in the idea. "Okay, mama."

But before she can turn to leave the room, you're reaching out for one final touch, your arms wrapping around her waist and face burying into her chest. She holds you back, placing gentle kisses to the top of your head. "I love you so much, my darling cub," she says, voice as gentle as the summer breeze. And in her warmth you smile, because no matter how frightening the world may seem, how apprehensive you are to venture out there, she would always be there as a shining light to guide you back home.

"I love you so much too, mama."

#rosie betzler #rosie betzler x reader #rosie betzler x daughter #rosie betzler x daughter reader #jojo rabbit #jojo rabbit fanfiction #jojo rabbit fic #rosie betlzer x child reader #scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x daughter reader

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storiesofsvu · 4 months

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Solace in Solitude Ch 7

Eventual Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, alcohol, nicotine and weed consumption, mentions of trauma/death, nightmares & anxiety. Yup!! She is back y'all!! Let's just say I got very bored of writing for bingo, things are not very Christmasey around here so I decided to try and finish this entire thing by New Year's. Now, i doubt that'll happen, but i'm still aiming for a chapter per day meaning 4-5 more chapters by NYE which honestly is just under what I have planned for this series. I wanted this one to be better, I can't lie, but in the new year we will move on to a new series and it will be wonderful! Happy Holidays!!

Emily kept her braids in until the next time her hair needed to be washed, if you had said anything she would say it was purely out of convenience and nothing else. But she knew that she actually liked it, she felt as if a new style was something that would help her move on to a new phase of life, not to mention you were a wizard when it came to braiding her slowly growing bangs into the braids and keeping them off her face. A new, different look was her way of leaning into Valerie, making herself more comfortable with the idea of everything and sticking around Paris while she waited for it to all come to an end.

She finally had enough energy to get out of the apartment, making it down the block to the corner store to pick up a few things. You’d been working later and longer hours, mentioning something about picking up a new research project in passing one day (that or you were hiding at the hospital, she wasn’t entirely sure). Thanks to that, things around the apartment had started to get a little on the lacking side when it came to chores. Emily didn’t mind, she spent most of the time in her room anyway and she could always get food delivered. But she did feel a bit bad if she wasn’t contributing at all, especially considering the last time she washed her hair you wordlessly braided it without her even having to ask.

So she’d began using her daily out of the house walks to not only get some more energy and strength back, but to pick up a few things for the apartment. Some days it was food, others coffee and she’d taken up the habit of replacing the flowers in the living room whenever they started to wilt. It was another small change in her routine that was helping her feel more human once again and she was finally starting to get comfortable being outside and not being completely on edge the entire time. She used the time to start upping her profiling skills again, the city streets of Paris the perfect place to grab a cup of coffee and people watch. She didn’t really care if she was correct with her hypothesises, it got her brain working again and she felt bad whenever she caught herself profiling you at home.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t tell that you were getting more tired with each day that went by, mentally drained by living the life you hadn’t chosen. She knew that one all too well at this point. So she did her best to keep the apartment in order without overworking herself and keeping out of your way, which in the long run was benefitting her too.

Currently Emily was out on the balcony, her usual home for the time in the evenings when you overlapped and her second favourite place to people watch from. The sun had already began its decent, the sky painted with colours of teal and purple when she heard the door open and shut inside the apartment. Her eyes flicked to the cigarette in her hand, wondering if she should stub it out before you saw it but figured she was already ratted out by the scent wafting through the air, not to mention the half pack of butts in the ash tray. She took another drag of it, watching a family of three on the street below her, the girl in between her parents, a hand holding each of them as she skipped her way down the sidewalk and her lips curved up into a brief grin. The thought of setting out on a nice family adventure on a Friday night, her imagination took hold, ideas flowing through her brain about the multitude of places they could be headed.

She was broken out of the daydream by the sound of you quite literally kicking off your shoes and throwing your bag into your room. The tell tale sign of what she first thought was the fridge opening, the sound of ice cubes being dumped into a glass proving her wrong, that you’d gone for the freezer instead, the glug of the high end bourbon you’d stashed in the pantry flowing into her ears next. She thought the next sound would be the closing of your bedroom door as you disappeared for the night and nearly jumped when you stepped out onto the balcony beside her, swiping the back of cigarettes from the small table. It happened so fast she couldn’t even let out a noise of objection before you spoke, snagging the lit cigarette from practically between her lips.

“Give me that.” You muttered.

“I- hey!” She groaned, her brow furrowing when she looked up at you to find you using her smoke to light your own, the pack already back on the table.

Before she could fully process what was going on her cigarette was back between her fingers and you were dropping into the empty chair, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you sunk even deeper into it. She let silence overtake the balcony so you could use the time to decompress, shift from your doctor self into your home self and no doubt relax a little bit. She finished her smoke, stubbing it out in the ash tray not long after you’d lit yours. She debated going back inside but felt like her skin was still itching, desperate for more nicotine so without even glancing in your direction she picked up the pack, pulling the lighter from her pocket to light a second one while she prepared for the nagging she was about to receive. Instead you simply took another drag, shoulders sagging as smoke slipped from your lips into the cooling night air.

“Nothing, really?” She couldn’t help herself, nearly laughing as she pocketed the lighter, “I thought you of all people would be coming out here to lecture me about the dangers of smoking.”

You let out a scoff of a laugh, “it’s fucking France, everyone smokes.” Your eyes flicked down to the ash tray and your lips curved into a frown, “I won’t lecture you but you might wanna slow down on how many you have per day.”

“Not exactly like I have much else to do.”

“Yeah well, find a hobby or something.” You took another drag, “there’s a bakery two streets over with the best stuff in the city. You could make your walks longer.”

“Hmm.” Emily replied, the acknowledgement that she had been leaving the house and helping out was all either of you needed to discuss on the matter. You weren’t in the mood to be the rule maker right now, that was very clear.

Silence took over the balcony once more and as much as she didn’t mean to, Emily’s eyes flickered over to you, examining your body language, her profiler gears turning. You looked even more mentally tired than you had the last time she’d seen you, not that there were bags under your eyes, but the look of utmost defeat within them. You sunk down so deep into the chair, pulling your legs up into it, curling around yourself as if to protect yourself from the outside world. Your gaze lingered on the skyline, not daring to dart down to the street where people occasionally milled below and every drag of the cigarette between your fingers was long, deep, like someone who desperately needed a more intense vice they hadn’t indulged in in years.

“Rough day?” She finally asked, her voice soft, quiet enough you could ignore it if you wanted to.

“Yeah.” You replied, flicking the ash off your smoke while you glanced down, sighing heavily. “Lost a patient.” Emily watched as your staring contest with the sky ended and your eyes flitted through the street beneath you, “little girl, couldn’t have been more than eight. Came in ‘cause she fell off her bike, complaining of arm pain, admitting doctor said she was wearing a helmet and the initial exam was clear. She was alert, talkative, just the cutest fucking thing, reminded me a lot of my sister at that age. We figured it was a broken arm and were waiting for the x-ray line up to clear up to confirm.” You took a heavy breath, a long drag of your smoke and Emily knew the twist was coming, “turned out the Dad was lying to Mom about the helmet, he didn’t want to get in trouble for not enforcing the rules, thought it didn’t matter that the poor girl bonked her head. We didn’t catch the brain bleed in time…” You trailed off, your eyes glassy as they returned to the sky.

“I’m so sorry…” Emily whispered and you shook your head,

“A family doesn’t come back from that. Guilt’ll eat you alive, Mom’ll likely never forgive Dad, he’ll go insane trying to right a wrong he can’t fix.”

“Can only hope he takes it out on himself and not someone else.” She muttered, shaking her own head and she instantly felt your eyes on her.

“You see a lot of that in your line of work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” She sighed, “something like today would be a stressor, it builds up higher and higher, fucks with your brain until you can’t take it anymore and it just sparks an explosion. He’s never gonna be able to look at another little girl on a bike again. He’ll see parents who let their kids ride without helmets as unfit, villains, could start lashing out towards them, likely verbally at first before a trigger hits. Could be divorce papers, could be the family ostracizing him, one month, six month, one year anniversary of her death, then he loses it…”

“Mmm.” In any other situation you would have been impressed by the way her brain worked, but right now all you were consumed by was grief, a weak laugh escaping through your lips as you should your head, “god we’re depressing.”

“At least you don’t have to sleep during the day.” She muttered and you let out a small laugh.

“We can adjust your meds again.” You replied before you glanced down to your smoke, your head titling before you looked up at Emily, “though there is something else we haven’t tried…. I mean, we’re already smoking.”

It took a moment for the realization to wash over her, her eyes widening when she realized what you were talking about, “is that legal here?” She whipped her phone out, hastily typing before she nearly shot you a glare, “no! It is not.”

“Oh don’t be a fucking narc,” you rolled your eyes, your voice quieting to not be overheard, “you’re not a fucking fed right now, and it’s fine if it’s medical.”

“That’s gotta be some kind of illegal abuse of your medical licence.”

“Yeah well… I wasn’t the one who shot some guy’s ear off for a threat.” You deadpanned and Emily choked on her words, grimacing as she settled back in her chair instead of trying to stop you as you stood, “a couple of puffs now, we’ll eat a late dinner, finish the joint and go to bed. If it helps you sleep, I’ll get you a prescription.”

“Fine.” She grumbled, willing to try anything at this point to get her back to a normal schedule, knowing that one day she was going to have to work through the day and sleep through the night again. She couldn’t keep this up forever.

You’d been the first to tap out, the exhaustion of a full work day on top of the glass of bourbon and weed, once your stomach was full, you were down for the count, saying goodnight and quickly heading to your bedroom. Emily felt fine, a little cloudy but relaxed, comforted almost and she knew it was probably not the greatest idea but she sipped on a glass of wine after you went to bed, feeling the night sink into the city. She thought nothing of it as she went through her normal nighttime routine, even though it was hours earlier, her eyes were drooping, it was at least time for a nap. She locked the balcony door behind her, washed the couple of dishes in the sink, filled up a glass of water and made sure the alarm was set. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and took whatever meds she normally did before bed and curled up under the blankets, letting out a soft sigh as she did so, sleep taking over much quicker than normal.

The major conflict being that Emily’s body was used to the new sleep schedule she’d implemented, the one that started at dawn and went ‘til dusk. Meaning it had been roughly twelve hours, not twenty four since she’d last taken her meds and even with the added weed, she’d only been awake four hours by the time you got home, there was no way it was actually bedtime for her. She could practically feel herself tossing and turning, her mind racing as images began to plague her dreams.

Though this time it wasn’t just Ian, they were at the villa, there was a weird haze over the entire thing but she was playing with Declan, wide smile on her face as he laughed while she chased him around. At first she looked like Lauren; Declan was as small as she remembered until Ian showed up and a darkness enveloped the room. She could feel her heart pounding, a gasp escaping her lips as she frantically looked around for the boy who was suddenly nowhere to be seen. Unlike the last nightmare this time it was as if she was having an out of body experience, watching the entire thing like it was a movie. She watched the fear spread across her own face as her hair darkened, became straighter, bruises started to purple up on her skin as Ian laughed at her.

“You’ll never find him. You’ll never be able to protect him.” He jeered, “he’s my boy after all. You gave up that chance, didn’t you?”

Blood started to stain her shirt, forming a circle on her lower abdomen before she let out a groan, hands shooting to the wound, trying to hold it together as red streaks began to drip down her clothing. She couldn’t help but collapse to her knees, choking on her own breath as she tried to speak, desperate to find the boy before he did.

“Declan….” She cried out.

Instead of his perfect blue eyes popping up from behind the couch, Ian’s hand wrapped around her throat, forcing her face up to his.

“He is my son.” He spat, “and nothing, not even you, will keep me from him.”

“Please!”

“Em!” A voice rang out, a hand closed around her shoulder and she could see it, the bodyless limb in her nightmare as she continued to sob. She felt like she was going to throw up, “Emily!” It repeated, this time louder, “hey! Wake up!” Her vision began to spin, blurring as the scene in front of her slowly vanished and suddenly she was jolted into her Parisian bedroom, the nightstand light on, casting a glow though the room and she realized it was your voice that was soothing her. “Hey… I’m here.. it’s okay.” You assured her, watching the way she slowly blinked to life, her chest heaving as her eyes darted around the room and she instantly shot up, shuffling back on the bed as if she was about to be hit.

“I-“ she struggled to find the words, her eyes flicking from each spot of the room that was a little too dark for comfort to the window, making sure it was shut before she felt your hand on hers, your thumb soothing across the back of it.

“You’re okay.” You repeated, “he doesn’t know where you are. You’re safe, I promise.”

She took a moment, calming her heavy breaths, not even bothering to wipe the tears away as she fought against every instinct in her to run out of the room right then. Grounding herself by the warmth of your hand on hers, the weight of your body next to her on the bed, knowing that this was reality, not the scene in her head moments prior. Once you could tell she was back on earth your free hand reached out to the nightstand, flicking through her pill bottles until you found the anti anxiety, twisting it open to hand her one.

“Here.” She took it from you, popping it under her tongue and waiting for it to dissolve. “You’ll feel better in a bit, get some rest.” You began to shift from the bed, knowing how much she hated when you even attempted to coddle her and she let out an uncharacteristic whimper, her hand instantly tightening in yours.

“Wait!” You were halfway standing when you turned back to her, frowning at the tears blurring in her eyes, “stay… please? Just for now.”

“Okay.” You shot her a weak smile, shifting back onto the bed, your heart sinking at the way the tears were still leaking over her cheeks, the way her body would occasionally shake in fear. Whatever tonight’s nightmare had been about was clearly affecting her more than the last one. You adjusted the blankets, making sure they were wrapped around her, and covering you enough you wouldn’t get cold and you were taken aback at the way she nearly collapsed against you, holding onto you as if you were the only thing keeping her from slipping back into another nightmare. “Hey…” you squeezed at her softly, “talk to me… please.”

“Thought you weren’t a shrink.” She bit back and you let out a huff.

“I know the basics, and you need to talk. You need someone right now and I’m the one that’s here, so let me be what you need, even if you hate it.” You felt the vibration of her grumble against you, your free hand soothing up and down her back, “wanna maybe start with who Declan is?”

Emily tensed in your arms, unaware that you’d heard that much, wondering just how much she was willing to share tonight before she let out a shuddering breath, “Doyle’s son.”

“Just… his…?” You asked cautiously and she let out another wavery huff.

“Yes.” Her hand reached up to wipe away a stray tear, “my job was to seduce him, but I mean, I was careful. I even slept with him and I don’t do that.”

“Well even I know sleeping with an international terrorist isn’t likely a good idea.” You muttered back.

“I meant men.” She replied and you almost stiffened beside her.

“Oh…”

Silence filled the room once again as she continued to try to calm her thudding heart, the medicine you’d given her slowly coursing through her veins.

“My job was to keep Declan safe, even afterwards. That’s why I moved to D.C, not because of the BAU, but because it was close to him. I thought I was safe for so long after Doyle was arrested, that things were fine, that he’d never find us again but I was wrong. If he managed to break out of prison, find me and completely destroy me… again… what’s stopping him now?” She took a shuddering breath and your arms tightened around her.

“He thinks you’re dead.” You whispered softly, “even if he hacks into Boston hospital records, that’s what he’ll find.”

“I just want to feel safe.” She sniffled again and you held back the instinct to wipe the new tear away, not wanting to end this chapter of her feeling comfortable talking to you, feeling vulnerable with you. “I knew he wanted to kill me, that he wanted me dead and I had the upper hand and didn’t take it. I died. I actually died in the ambulance and all I felt was… cold.. and darkness… that can’t be it.” Her hand clutched at your shirt again, “that can’t be the end…”

“It wasn’t.” You assured her softy, your hand slowly rubbing up and down her back, “and it won’t be. You deserve so much more than that, okay?”

“I just want to forget him.”

“I know.”

________________

@daddy-heather-dunbar @mandy-asimp @leftoverenvy @dextur @supercriminalbean @daffodil-heart @its-soph-xx @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @hopelesslyfallenninlove @peanutbutterprincess @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @s1ut4nat @scorpsik @happenstnces @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @pagetboobstarcomments @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @desperate-gay @amypoehlfey @overtrred28 @theclassicgaycousin @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @niyizh @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @romanoffsho @ratsnestinmyhair @assgardangod @originalbrunettecharacter @hopedoesntknow @dj-bynum3718 @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @nachofriess @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx

#emily prentiss #criminal minds #emily prentiss x reader #solace in solitude #lauren reynolds #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss series

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roseandpeaches · 1 year

Text

Girl Dad Gyu - Hair

No warnings, just pure fluff. Mingyu is a stay-at-home dad and an amazing girl dad.

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Mingyu sat on the floor, surrounded by an array of hair accessories - clips, bows, and hair ties. He looked at his daughter, who was sitting in front of him, babbling happily and grabbing at the colourful items.

"Alright, Minju, let's see what we can do with this hair of yours," he said with a smile, reaching for a hairbrush.

Minju was barely a year, but boy, could she grow a lion's mane. He wasn't sure if it was something she had inherited from his wife or him, but he knew he had to do something about it. "Just get her a haircut honey," the mother of his child said. He had told her how he didn't want to take it the easy way. He'll need to learn how to handle their daughter's hair in the future anyway - the mere thought of his chubby baby growing got him choked up, but he continued strategising his mission.

Mingyu had taken it upon himself to buy all the hair accessories for Minju. He had even picked up a nice baby friendly hairbrush though his wife had already gotten one when they were preparing for their daughter's arrival, 'All good things comes in two,' he had rationalised to himself. It's fine. Surely, his wife can't be mad for having one extra comb. Right?

As he brushed her soft hair, he realized that he had no idea what he was doing. He had never been the best at styling his own hair, let alone someone else's. But he was determined to figure it out for his daughter. He refuses to find an easy way out. Minju hated going to the salons. Every time the hairdresser approached her delicate head, she'd show off her great set of lungs. Who knew a cute chubby thing like her could let out a mighty cry, loud enough for everyone in Seoul to hear?

Mingyu started with a simple ponytail, using a pink hair tie to hold it in place. He stepped back to admire his work, only to see that the ponytail was lopsided and messy. He groaned, "The tutorial says to do it this way, Minju-ya, why isn't it working?" His daughter, who was oblivious of her struggling appa, was preoccupied with sorting out the colourful hair bands between her chubby legs. At least that's what Mingyu thought she was doing.

He sighed and tried again, this time with a clip. But as soon as he let go of her hair, the clip fell out, and Minju grabbed it, putting it straight in her mouth. Mingyu chuckled at the sight, realizing that this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. He gently pried the clip off her mouth, she had protested but she hadn't protested too hard. It didn't taste as good as it seemed anyway. It was hard even. Minju frowned, her bottom lips stuck out mirroring her appa.

Mingyu had tried different hairstyles - braids, pigtails, and even attempted a messy bun - but nothing seemed to be working. He had gone through millions of tutorials at this point. "Your eomma does it so effortlessly. Surely I can do it too, right, Minju?" Minju just blankly looked at her father. She shoved a bunch of butterfly clips to him instead.

After several failed attempts, Mingyu decided to take a break and sit with his daughter, who was now playing with the hairbrush. As he watched her, he realized that it didn't matter if her hair was styled perfectly or not. She was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He picked her up and held her close, smiling as she giggled and babbled in his ear. Mingyu knew that there were more important things than being good at styling hair, like being there for his daughter and making her feel loved and supported.

As he put Minju down to play, he looked at the mess of hair accessories and laughed. "Maybe we'll just stick with the messy look for now," he said to himself.

Mingyu may not have been a hairstyling expert, but he was a loving father who would do anything for his daughter - even if it meant embracing her messy hair.

Later that day, his wife got home and trimmed their daughter's hair herself. Her mother, being an angel and her salvation, Minju had complied easily. In fact, she had stayed put in Mingyu's hold. "Told you this would be easier," chided his wife. He could only pout.

Author's Note: I might start a series of shorts like this based on Mingyu being a girl dad. I have a few in my drafts just waiting for an edit.

#kim mingyu #mingyu fanfic #mingyu fluff #mingyu #mingyu scenarios #girl dad mingyu #stay at home dad mingyu #husband mingyu #parent mingyu #kim minju #mingyu svt #mingyu seventeen #mingyu imagines

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echooefrost · 3 months

Text

More Designs!

Jasper - Ok, I know he looks weird - he's just a happy boi! pls don't look too closely at the hands. So, I gave him big (and really badly drawn) calves becasue he's basically always doing some sort of exercise/work and Sage once said that he's the strongest, and we never really see his legs so I felt like showcasing those details here. Now his shoes, yet another thing that might look random, however I assure you, that these are what medieval workers use to wear. I kept his design relatively similar to his canon one, although I did have to give him a different hat.

Rachel - out of all the designs, Rachel's is the most historically accurate. it's a common misconception that women were shunned for showing their forearms/ankles but it was actually quite normal! married medieval women would wear veils and other elaborate headwear, however women who were not would either wear their hair loose or in a braid. Rachel isn't married so she wears it loose, I added a little braid that she puts flowers and decorative items in, to make her design a little bit more interesting. (and becasue its pretty)

Frankenstein - Frankenstein is really fun to draw! I don't exactly know why but she just is! She has this big fluffy pelt thing going on, it's made of a lot of fur and owl feathers, why owl feathers? because she reminds me of an owl, that's why. she also has big ol' snowboots because it snows in the swiss mountains and because I think it looks cute. you can't see her gloves but they are dark brown (fyi). she has these vials attached to her belt but they can also serve as an emergencey crystal ball - you know, just in case you have to conjure up some evil spirits, as one does.

Papa Lanyon - I think Papa Lanyon sounds way funnier than Lanyon sr. and it contrasts his serious face. I anticipated that he was going to be really hard to draw, but It was surprisingly easy. I liked his design until I had to colour him, I really don't know what happened there, I'm slightly annoyed because I wanted him to appear very cool and dapper, yet he really looks like a generic king. So this doesn't have to be his official design, he just wears fancy king clothes (it's not that important anyway because we don't see him all that much) he is wearing metal soldier-like boots, solely because I searched up outfit references and they all had soldier boot things.

Now that I've done this, I have no more excuses to procrastinate doing work for the other things in the au. Anyway I hope everyone likes these. have a nice day/moring/afternoon/night!

*just realised I forgot to colour their eyes, I'll add later!

#the glass scientists au #the glass scientists #tgs #tgs au #echo's au's #tgs jasper #tgs rachel #tgs frankenstein #jasper kaylock #rachel pidgley #victoria frankenstein #tgs medieval au

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visionofvoid · 1 year

Text

Limelight - LS18

Summary: “you’ll get your flowers my dear.”

Warnings: some shameless flirting, a cocky oc

Pairings: lance stroll x oc

Word Count: 1311

She recalled the first time she ever encountered the Stroll family.

It was at a joint gala to raise money for children with terminal illnesses and her parents, who were incredibly notable in the car collection and curating community, wished to donate a 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429 in a cherry red colour. It was one of the most expensive items up for grabs and had all its original interior in pristine condition. It gained quite a number of public attention, for a good reason, and all donations were given to the foundation they were sponsoring. It was that night that a young Piper Broadstone had encountered a young Lance Stroll, the boy in his late teens and too cool to speak to girls.

It wasn’t until years later that the two families attended yet another high profile event, this time with Piper placing a bet and winning a one-on-one date and drive with Lance Stroll himself. She wasn’t too sure on how she would organise this one-on-one date as she found herself drinking too much champagne and dancing with her mother and friends. She honestly could have approached Lance but instead chose to admire from a distance, sneaking a look whenever she could.

Piper had honestly forgotten about the auction until she received a message request in her private messages on her Instagram.

lance_ stroll: you know, if you really wanted to come for a cruise or a date you could have just messaged me on this

and its free too

Piper admired his cheeky flirting and it seemed that he was also somewhat eager to see what the date had to offer. Of course it was all up to Lance to provide the date and to showcase his driving skills, all Piper had to do was dress the part and just show up.

itspiperbroadstone: i did it for the kids, mr stroll, don’t let it get to your head

kind of silly that you had to ask for an auction to get me to go on a date with you. you could have messaged me on this

lance_stroll: bold of you to assume i want a date with you

itspiperbroadstone: why else would you message me at nine at night out of nowhere?

lance_stroll: touche

tomorrow at 11am, casual, braided hair may be best (car purposes only)

do you prefer lunch or dinner for the date?

itspiperbroadstone: we love a dominant king

lets do food after the drive tomorrow, you know, make sure it’s all in one day otherwise you might fall in love with me

lance_stroll: im certain you’ll be falling for me

our parents will love the combined fortune

itspiperbroadstone: old money nepo babies

pick me up in the vantage xoxo

i want flowers too

i paid 50k i should at least get some flowers

lance_stroll: you’ll get your flowers my dear

Casual to someone like Piper was a lot different to someone that didn’t live in an expensive penthouse in Canada. Of course Piper understood that casual was just a term to dress a lot more relaxed but she still needed to dress to impress. She followed the latest trends and embarrassingly fed into fast fashion so she was dressed all in just a pair of jeans with a baggy graphic shirt to pair. It was a nice sunny day so she neglected to bring a jacket as she walked out of her apartment complex, bidding her doorman a farewell and towards the Aston Martin Vantage she could only guess was Lance’s.

He was leaning against his car, also in a rather casual outfit in a pair of jeans, brown boots and an all grey shirt. In his hands he held a bouquet of flowers, a mix of daisies, babies breath, camellias and a few other variations. He wore a large smile on his face as Piper approached, embracing the girl in a quick and gentle hug, a kiss to the cheek and then pulled away gracefully.

“I wasn’t too sure what flowers you liked so I got a bit of everything.” Lance confessed, though he had secretly looked through all of her social media to find some sort of hint. It was in her highlights.

“Thank you, Lance. They’re beautiful.” Piper hated to admit that she was blushing and instead hid her face in the flowers, disguising the action by sniffing the flowers. They smelled incredibly fresh. There was nothing like the smell of fresh flowers. “So, what have you got planned for us today?” Lance opened her door like a gentleman and held her flowers as she strapped herself in before closing the door when she was settled. He ran to the other side, climbing into the passenger seat and started his car, one of his prized possessions.

“Well, I have a couple of cars for me to drive you around in at the track and then I’ll see how you go-”

“Driving one? You're letting me drive a Formula One car?” Lance chuckled in response, pulling into the lane and heading towards the Montreal track.

“No, you can’t operate one of those. I’ve got a couple of other cars, much safer cars to take you in and for you to drive.” Lance’s eyes remained on the road for the most part as they drove through town. His car was enough to get some stairs and rightfully so; it was a beautiful car, anyone could appreciate that, and it was the biggest flex of all. Not many people owned a car such as the vantage, not even Piper of her family, though they did own a few Aston Martins. She looked out at the window, admiring the city she was born and raised in. The two settled into a peaceful silence as they continued to the track. It was not awkward, at least from Piper’s perspective.

The 'Date’ was great PR for not only Piper and Lance but for their families, for the charity in which the money from the bid was going to and for Formula One itself. There were film crews at the ready, organised photographers to capture the two in and out of the cars, cameras and microphones set up inside the cars to capture the reactions of the two.

Piper was genuinely enjoying herself, even though her braided hair was becoming a mess and she laughed rather obnoxiously in front of Lance.

Lance was also having a great time. He never really got to show off his skills in older modelled cars let alone with a pretty girl beside him. He liked to glance over as he drifted around a corner, watching her absolutely lose herself into the atmosphere. It was something he found himself wanting to see more, yearning to see more. So, he hated it when their drive had ended and it was Piper’s turn to drive.

She got into the first car, the pair strapping themselves in. She quickly posed for a camera pointing towards them and then turned on the ignition.

“You can drive stick?” Lance questioned, Piper only nodding in response before taking off. She had devised a plan, starting off slow to get Lance to think she was nervous. She took it easy around the corners before she found herself approaching the hairpin after turn nine. She started accelerating, going faster and faster by the second before drifting the car almost expertly around the hairpin and turn ten. She couldn’t wait to see the footage once it was released of Lance's reaction. She finished the circuit, stopping at the pit in front of the cameras and getting out, throwing her hands in the air almost as if she was a racer herself.

“Where did you learn to drive like that?” Lance questioned once the two of them were finally helmet free.

“My parents are car collectors and curators, you learn a thing or two.”

#f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x oc #formula one smut #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #formula one #formula 1

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