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#i am so in love with six its not even funny
renren-006 · 10 months
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Poloroid |Sierra Six x Reader
Summery: When Six was given the Poloroid that Claire took of him he only had one person in mind to give it too. AS soon as he was done with the job he headed straight home to you.
Word Count: 466
Warning: fluffffff
A/N: hey hey!!! have not written anything for Six/Court in a bit and i thought this was a cute idea to do!! this is a very short little one shot!! hope you enjoy!!!
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Six got that polaroid not too long after Claire got out of the hospital. She placed the picture next to his computer. When Court looked up at the girl she gave him a big smile.
“You know i'm really smart for my age” she told him, “i've seen you take only one caller the entire time you've been here” Court glanced down at his phone to see your name pop up. He glanced back up at the girl before he tucked the photo in his pocket and rushed to answer your call.
“Hey hun” you spoke to him over the phone. Your voice was like music to his ears. You were only allowed one phone call a week, per Court telling you so. 
“Hey there doll” he said, the photo burning holes in his pants. “I got a surprise for you when i get home”
“Oh yea? Please tell me it's not another thing for the kitchen. I love you but you don't need to get something new for the house every time you leave for a mission out of the country” you told him, exclaiming loudly over the phone. Court laughed, making not only your heart swell but also Clairs who was sitting on the couch, an ipad in her lap on the lock screen but was content on watching Six on the phone. She'd never seen him this happy, but when she noticed him pull a special photo from his jacket and a lady's face was on it, she knew he wasn't so straight laced and sticked as he had to be on missions. Court got off the phone with you not long after that, promising to be home soon. 
Once the last week was over and he was home to you the photo was in your hands before his bags were even dropped at the door. When you looked down and saw a polaroid of Court you smiled. He looked down at you with loving eyes. 
“Clair took this?” You asked, knowing all about the girl he was looking after. 
“Yea, surprised me the first day with a camera but i didn't get it back till last week after she was out of the hospital” Court told you. When you flipped over the photo a little note was stuck to the back. When you opened the folded piece of paper, it was a letter Claire. 
Dear Six’s lover…I still don't know your name,
I think he loves you. Well, I have a feeling that you two have been together for a long time. It's cute. Please tell him that I will be keeping the gum I stole from him and I hope he doesn't forget about me. He looks like a happy puppy when he's on the phone with you. Don't let him go.
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axenno1211 · 2 years
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I have Sierra Six/Six/courtland gentry/court issues.....
To be more specific, Ryan gosling issues that I can't explain.
He makes me feel things.
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beeduoo · 20 hours
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originnssssss who remembers origins i Loved origins
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Lowkey i ate with rhis actually no i didn't i ate wirh rhat ENDER EYE Why is it so rendered Hello
IGNORW RHEIR UGLY UGLY DESIGNS This was before they switched to their iconic Skins past e didn't know......
#loosely based off of this old thing it's under the Cut#origins smp#beeduo#beeduo fanart#idk what other tags to put i cant put C because this isn't C this is O..... but like do people even check those tags idk#actually no im scared i heard theres been like three failed origins revivals i dont want to interfere with their character ecosystem i was#only there for the first one😅#i rewatched some origins streams a little while ago oh my god theyre SO FUNNY#DUDE DOES ANUONE REMMEBER THAT ONE STREAM I COUDLNT FIND RHIS ONE STREAM#IR EAS LIKE THE ONE WHERE TUBBO WAS SINGING SUGAR BY MAROON FIVE thats all i remmeber ANF ALSO RNE can i call you senpaaiiii bit thay shit h#ad me CRYING in 2021 Please i swear this happened imnot crazy but also they might have been separate streams actuallu i dont rememebr its#been wayyyyyyy too long#BUT IT HAPPENED I PROMISE Sorry i've been gone for a while ive been very busy lots of Things going on went to Six flags then jad a surprise#bday party then i had to buy shoes for prom then Go to prom and also i do figure skating and am out like every day idknt have Time im sorry☹#had a crepe yesterday it was sooooo goood im like learning to drive too that shit is boring as hell my dad kept gettign 😑 bc i couldn't stop#yawning DRIVING IS SO BORING its not my fault😭😭😭😭#ok what else ohhhh. y god i locked in SO HARD for this physics essay u guys dont even knowim getting ONE HUNDRED on that trust i just really#wanted to share ok i love you bge#WAIT ACTUALLT SORRU IM LIKE REMMEBERJNG THE ORIGINS STREAMS K WAYCHED#RANBOO WAS SO FUCKING FUNNT IN THOSE STREAMS TOO LIKE I REMEMBER NIKI WANTED TO SEE THEIR BASE and tubbo was like ooh maybe we can put like#water down here for you niki we need a water system and ranwas like Do we though?I WAD WAYCHING THAT .LIKE DAMMMNNNNNN OM LIKE GIGGLING WRIT#ING THIS RIGHT NOW I CAN HEARTHE CLIP HE DID NOTTT WANT HER IJNTHEIR BASE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#I NEED TO FIDN THAT STREAM WHERE IRS LIKE TOMMY AND JACK A D FHEHRE LOKE TALKING ABOUT DUOS AND THEN JACK SAYS THE MOST OUT OF POCKET SHIT I#VE EVER HEARD LKKE I LITERALLU HAD TK PAUSE. H PHONE AND BURST OUR LAUHJIMG MY JAW WAS ON THE FLOORRRRR DO U GUYS R EME ER WTF IM TLAKING AB#OUT IDK HOW TO FIND THESE STREAMS Oh my god u really Had to be there early 2021 that was liye the funniest era of mt life i wlild be#Tearing up from lauhjimg every day I MISS WAYCHING STREAMS LIVE CHAT WAS SO FUNNY I wishe it was archivedI WISH MORE STREAMERS KEPT CHAT ON#SCREEN i defiently understand why most didn't like Wyd when chats annouing ad hell but also Me 3 years later is interested in what the pub#lic had to say.... ok Now bye
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norrizzandpia · 9 months
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Reckless Driving (LN4)
Summary: When McLaren thinks its funny to put Y/n in a sports-car with her boyfriend and a set of question cards. Spoiler Alert: She doesn’t!
Warnings: Absolutely none. TOOTH. ROTTING. FLUFF. ⚠️⚠️ (but if I missed anything lmk)
"Hi, everyone! Today, I am out on the Silverstone Circuit with none other than my beautiful girlfriend, Y/n!" Lando's calming voice brought Y/n nothing but anxiety as she waved to the camera. To say she was nervous for their planned youtube video for Mclaren would be an understatement. She had lost sleep over this. Even though Lando had assured her he would keep her safe, she still couldn't shake off the weariness.
Lando smiled down at her pale face before continuing, "As requested, Y/n and I are going to be taking out onto the circuit a new Mclaren and while I drive, she will be asking me questions which I will answer." He flashed his charming smile at the lens of the camera facing them, "She may be nervous, but it's happening!" He smiled mischievously at her as he grabbed her hand and led them toward the car a few feet behind them.
When they reached the passenger seat and Lando gestured for her to get in, she froze. Standing there with her arms glued to her side and her eyes trained on the seat staring back at her, she felt Lando's presence come closer before his hands landed on her arms and his lips came to rest near her ear.
"Baby, it's going to be fun. Trust me, you know I wouldn't put you in any danger. When you get in that car, your wellbeing will be my responsibility and you know I won't jeopardize it." He whispered for only her to hear.
His words and grounding hands were able to soothe her rapidly beating heart as she took a step into the passenger side of the sports car. Looking back up at Lando, who was bent at the waist and resting his arm on the roof so he could meet her gaze, she found his big smile and a look that said he was proud of her. Leaning into the car more and crowding her space, he laid a kiss on her lips, something the crew were eager to pick up on the footage and give the fans what they wanted.
"Thank you, my love." He said against her lips, his breath fanning out around her face and making her feel warm on the inside.
He soon was pulling away and shutting her door, jogging around the car with rosy cheeks to get to his side. Once he was in, he met her eyes again and laid a hand on her thigh, giving the soft skin a firm squeeze. Before their intimate moment could go any further, Lando's assistant was knocking on Y/n's window and gesturing for them to lower it.
With the cracked window, she was handing Y/n the question cards and reminding the couple to keep it as PG-13 as possible.
"Lando, I'm looking at you. Our usual audience with you is young girls, so please don't pull what you did in the last video where you wouldn't shut up about Y/n's body." Charlotte's words made Y/n blush furiously and Lando laughed hysterically. That video had been filmed two weeks before this one and for some reason, as Carlos and Lando tried Japanese food, he couldn't stop talking about how hot he thought his girlfriend was. Carlos found it amusing as well, but the boys were scolded soon after for making the video risky to post with all the pre-teens who followed them. Nonetheless, the video went viral and everyone was fawning over how cute their favorite F1 couple was.
"I can't make any promises." His comment earned him a glare from Charlotte whose eyes alone could have sent him lying six feet under. "Okay, okay! I won't make any comments like that!" He exclaimed as he raised his hands in surrender, his palms beginning to sweat under her intense stare.
Finally, the couple was left alone to have a conversation while Lando went over 100 miles per hour. If she wasn't nervous before, Y/n was nervous now. She felt like she could puke all over the front of the car once the engine started and Lando's foot came to step on the pedal.
He started out slow, wanting to maneuver his way onto the track before fully stepping onto the gas. Once he made it to the entrance, he stole a glance at Y/n who was clearly alarmed by his hesitation.
Lando sighed as he leaned over the center console and planted a kiss on her shoulder, "We don't have to do this if you're too nervous, Y/n. Seriously, they have so many other youtube ideas to fill this one with. Darling, if you don't want to do this, we don't have to. No one's going to be upset with you."
She smiled at him as her head rested on the seat beneath her, "No, let's do it. I trust you and I know, with you, anything can be fun, even a death ride."
Lando laughed and nodded his head, retreating back to the steering wheel and putting the car in drive. Before he could give her time to go back on her answer, Lando was speeding off and reaching 80 miles per hour in seconds.
The first thing that came out of Y/n's mouth was not the questions she held in her hands, but an ear piercing scream that had Lando laughing hard.
"Y/N!" He exclaimed, "You can't scream like that!" He said through all his laughing as she braced one hand on the window and another on the roof of the car.
He heard her breathe loudly before muttering "Okay, okay" to herself and reading the first question, "What is your least favorite part about being an F1 driver?"
Lando didn't have to think twice about his answer as he rounded a corner and Y/n let out a strained, unidentifiable sound, "My least favorite part is how much it keeps me away from you. I'm always traveling and even though you can come with me sometimes, I'm still away from you more than I would like."
Even through her anxiety, Y/n's heart warmed at his words and she smiled to herself as she read the next question, "What was the first thing you noticed about me when we were first introduced to one another?"
As he went down a straight, Lando stole a suggestive glance at Y/n. The two knew exactly what his answer was considering they had talked about it multiple times over the few years they had been together. When they first met in a club with their mutual friend, Y/n had been wearing a tighter dress that showed more cleavage than she would have anticipated, and since Lando was taller than her, his first glance at her wasn't her face, but her boobs. His continuing glances throughout the night hadn't gone unnoticed by Y/n and if it wasn't for his charming personality, she would have been put off. Lando had since apologized profusely if he made her uncomfortable with his inappropriate eyes, but because of how much she loves him and the fact that he means well, she didn't take it seriously.
Meeting his gaze from the seat beside him, the couple let out a few giggles and when Lando was about to answer honestly, he remembered what Charlotte had warned him about earlier, "Your bod- um, I mean, your eyes?" His statement sounded more like a question which made Y/n keel over with laughter. However, her laughter was interrupted when Lando sped up and took a narrow left turn. With another scream and plea for Lando to slow down, Y/n asked the next question.
"What's been the best thing that came out of your F1 career?" She white-knuckled the handle on the door.
"Well, there are a few things," Another turn of the steering wheel, "Being able to work with amazing drivers has been surreal, fulfilling a lifelong dream, being able to do what I love for work, and, last but not least, meeting the people that introduced me to you."
With a quick glance, Y/n and Lando were smiling widely at each other, "Baby, you are so sweet." She said as he blushed at the pet name and praise.
At the next question, Y/n laughed, already knowing the answer to it, "Have you ever lied to get out of a work meeting or PR event or anything of that sort?"
Lando's jaw opened and closed, "Oh god, I'm going to get in so much trouble. Yes, I have." Y/n was about to speak when he beat her to it, "BUT, it was only because you were really sick and I didn't want to leave you bed-ridden for hours."
She remembered that week very vaguely considering she felt like she was knocking on death's door. She did, however, remember Lando coming into their bedroom in a full tuxedo rambling on about how he wasn't going to his event because he was too worried about her. She had been so out of it, she let him take off his suit jacket, tie, and shoes, so he could unbutton a few buttons on his white shirt and roll up his sleeves to get into bed with her. If she hadn't been so sick, she would have refused his help and sent him off to his event, but once he got under the covers and wrapped her in his arms, she couldn't allow herself to try and push him out of bed.
As he came up on the last straight, Y/n asked her last question, "If you could, what would you change about your life?"
"I would marry you." His answer came out quickly and Y/n had to make sure she heard him right as he came to a full stop in front of the crew.
Lando's nerves took over as he studied her blank expression, although they disappeared when her face broke out into that smile he loved so much.
"I would marry you too." Each of them stared at the other as they laid their heads on the back of the seat. The cameras around the car caught the couple's dazed, lovesick look, something the fans would obsess over in the coming weeks.
To be honest, neither of the two could have anticipated how viral the video would go after it was released. Millions of people viewed and shared the challenge which introduced more people to F1. The clip of Lando saying Y/n's body for what he noticed first about her was an ongoing meme that, thankfully, the fans didn't take too seriously, and the clip of Lando saying he would marry Y/n was posted by millions, saying how it called them single in multiple different languages.
The only con that came out of the video was that, because of its incredible popularity, Y/n was asked to drive in a sports car with Lando all over again.
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jorrāeliarzus (beloved) │ Chapter 1: Affliction
terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!
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Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3  (In Progress!)
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Synopsis: Daemon guides you on a journey of healing and self-discovery as you learn to raise your children and build a family of your own. You struggle.
Hello! Welcome back, all! This instalment is going to be a journey for Reader. A bunch of bad shit has happened in her life. It's about time she begins facing all that, you know? Not all of it will be heavy, but there will be some psychological fuckery and an opportunity to delve into the layers of the relationship I've spent time developing. My intention is to have this function similar to little slut, in that it's a series of one-shots set chronologically. Each will be a self-contained 'highlight' that is set during the six years Daemon is exiled on Dragonstone. This instalment will cover babies, healing, pregnancy, relationship development, funny hijinks, dragons and smut! Always smut.
EDIT: I am dumb-dumb and forgot to thank @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta-ing and giving this her necessary stamp of approval and being the bestest biffle EVA, as well as @spoolofblack for reassuring me that Daemon is NOT too OOC here and cheering me on through the AO3 tagging journey. Thanks be!
Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of post-partum depression, lite smut, lactation and lactation kink.
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“Thus was Prince Daemon banished from his brother the King’s city, and with him his niece and newborn heirs. Exile had long favoured the rogue, and this latest decree brought a period of quiet to the isle of Dragonstone, the years giving rise to further progeny to strengthen his House’s line. Together with the Princess Rhaenyra, Daemon and his wife presided over the Targaryen stronghold for several years before circumstances would take them once more to King’s Landing.”
- ‘Fire & Blood: Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros’ by Archmaester Gyldayn
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He is staring again.
You do your best to pay it no mind, though the weight of his eyes upon you is heavy, nonetheless. An onlooker may well assume his focus is on the scene in its entirety—upon the babes propped on pillows before you, their grasping fists skating across dragonscale as they grunt and babble, reptilian rumbles filling the void between sounds—but you know better. Your husband has not been the same since… since that night. You cannot blame him, though it vexes you so.
One of the dragons—the creature with scales of amethyst glittering even in low light—hisses in outrage as Aelys takes hold of his tail, curling around himself with teeth bared as if to warn your daughter of the fate that awaits her. No bite comes. Unbothered, she tries to tug her quarry to her face, and you can only presume the intent is to explore this new surface with gnashing gums.
“Let go, my lovely,” you tell her as your fingers work to free the beast of its skin-and-bone shackles. The babe’s grip is surprisingly firm. “Azorion has done naught to deserve such untoward treatment.”
“Did it not shit in the cradle this morning?” comes Daemon’s idle question from the desk.
When you glance over, you find he has made himself busy once more, appearing for all the world as though he is deep in his papers. You suspect otherwise.
“He is only small,” you say by way of response. Aelys’s face flushes with the threat of tears when her clasp is finally released, so you slip your own digits into hers to placate her. The other dragon, the long-limbed and sun-hued Valnissar, presses its snout against her neck as if to soothe her temper. “He cannot help it.”
Azorion scrabbles back to Rhaenar’s side, huffing indignantly even while burrowing into the boy’s side, leaching his body warmth. Rhaenar’s eyelids begin to droop, the comforting mass of his future mount an unwavering reassurance, while the steadiness of Valnissar’s even breaths along her flesh ease Aelys into a state of calm.
“If it can eat unaided, it can shit in a place that is not where my children sleep.”
The creature seems to rouse at the mention of his earlier mishap; you pat him reassuringly. “He will learn.”
Daemon grunts, summarily ending the conversation.
This is how most of your interactions proceed as of late: a vague, uninterested query, an overly polite response, a terse conclusion, and two evidently discontented persons not quite certain how to bridge the divide that has risen between them. And there is a divide, you are sure of it—why else does the man who is never without a word to spare suddenly bereft of speech in your presence?
The only thing that eases your mind is the knowledge that, for all his recalcitrance, there is no love lost. His hands still linger—on your back, your waist, thoughtless touches that settle hot and heavy and remind you of his solidness. He smiles still, amused by the sing-song lilt of your voice as you coo down at the twins, laughs when they babble back in mimicry of true dialogue. At night, his arms are encompassing, almost too tight, the clutch of one upon that which they fear to lose most. His body speaks the words his lips cannot, laying bare the desperate frustration—the fear, the anger, the worry—that he has carried since the night you had fallen under the spell of old magic, the night you had woken your children’s mounts from their eggshell prisons and called them forth with fire and blood.
Daemon is not the only one who ruminates upon it. You yourself remember it in pieces, flashes of memory that you cannot make whole. The heat of the hearth. A glow, orange, red, yellow. Stinging upon your hands, and the iron tang of blood upon the air. It is as though it occurred to another being—like you had watched rather than been part of it all. There is little wonder that the sight must have made him so uneasy.
You startle when your uncle abruptly stands, rolling his neck to dispel any latent discomfort from remaining in a static position for so long. He falters, appears to decide on something unknown to all but his own mind, then moves toward the rug where you have arranged your babes and their dragons.
Crouching down beside you, his hand reaches forth to cup the round softness of Rhaenar’s head as he murmurs, “I’ll be back later.”
“Before supper?” you ask just as quietly.
He makes a vague noise of assent, smiling absently when Aelys jams her fist in her mouth and babbles to herself, drooling all the while. Valnissar perks up at the sight of his second-favourite person in the world, chittering excitedly as he makes a concerted attempt at climbing up Daemon’s leg. Daemon hisses, extricating the spindly creature’s claws and placing him on his shoulder. Valnissar flaps his wings and promptly tries to weave his way into your uncle’s hair. Your nostrils flare in amusement.
Daemon does not look at you, but you do not mind; you understand the draw of the twins and their young mounts all too well.
“Where are you going?” you ask.
At that, he turns further into you, his gaze finally lifting to find your face. From the corner of your eye, you see the looming shadow that forms whenever he allows his thoughts to consume him. It casts his features into darkness, the heavy set of his brow wrinkling inward as disquietude metamorphoses him. But the tale enacted through his expression is mitigated by the press of his other hand against the small of your back, achingly tender even in its firmness.
“To the Dragonmont.”
You nod. “Ah.”
He will not tell you yet, but you suspect he is looking for answers. The last great repository of Old Valyria is bound to provide at least some insight, though part of you—a large part—is too afraid to seek them yourself. You worry what you will find if you should search through the ancient texts of your people, what they might say of those with the power to hold fire in their hands without fear of burning. It is not something you have ever heard of. If House Targaryen could claim such a feat, it would not be a secret. What does it mean? You know not.
And so, you make no protest when his thumb strokes against Aelys’s cheek in parting, when he unceremoniously drops her dragon to the floor beside her and ignores the protesting squawks to lean in and kiss your cheek, muttering his goodbyes as he rises to leave. You do not turn around, but you know his routine well enough by now.
A clatter by the bed, and Dark Sister is retrieved—scabbard and all—to be fastened at his waist. A scrape, the chair at the desk being pushed back in. A pause. He takes one final look at you all, wife and children and dragons laid about by the hearth in seeming bliss. You feel his stare as it rests on you and you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, footsteps echoing, then fading, fading. The imprint of his lips and his touch remains, an unsettling reminder of all that has been left unspoken.
You dispel such thoughts with a sigh. As worrying as Daemon’s behaviour has become, it is by no means your first priority now that you are a mother.
Looking down at them, you wonder if you will ever get used to the idea, to the fact that these two little beings grew in your belly until they were ready to come into the world, and now they are here and they are yours. ‘Mother’ means the woman through whom your very existence came to be, the name Aemma spoken in hushed whispers and always carrying with it the trace of unending grief. ‘Mother’ means Alicent, the girl-turned-Queen who birthed your brothers and sweet Helaena, who gave you little Daeron to love in place of all you had once been without. ‘Mother’ means Rhaenyra, your staunchly devoted sister who had in part raised you, who even now rears kind, intelligent sons who are more than deserving of the legacy she will one day leave them. You find it entirely strange that a word representing these women—such forces in your life, for good or otherwise—is a word that applies to you.
Motherhood is strange, foreign in a way you do not feel you can overcome by consulting dusty tomes in companionship with Ser Lysan, the manner in which you have familiarised yourself with all foreign things in summers past. This feeling has crept into the crevices of your mind in barely perceptible pulses, slow and unassuming with every new thing you learn about these wonderful, terrifying beings your body created, with every new feat they achieve as they grow and adapt to their environment. At times, when you are alone, you worry you will be no good at it. How can you possibly fare well at such a monumental task without a mother to guide you? What if you make a mistake?
What if your babes—who you know you love more than anything in the world, more than you ever thought anyone could ever feel in their beating hearts, so strong it is almost sickening—come to know of your inadequacy and loathe you for it?
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“What seems to be the issue, Princess?”
Gerardys’s hands are folded together before him, his expression as kind and reassuring as always. You wish you truly were reassured, or the too-hot, roiling sensation of your gut might not be quite so pronounced.
There are many responses you could give. The fact that your husband is ill at ease with you for reasons you cannot risk explaining, lest the entire Realm learn through whispers and tales of Valyrian blood magic and some concealed devilry that ought to be put to the sword. That your doubts about how suitable you are as a mother are rising with every second of every hour that you are left to tend your children, feelings that must be wholly unnatural to a woman or otherwise, would you not have heard of such a thing spoken in your many years among the ladies at court? Or perhaps that the woman whom you would prefer to speak to of this matter is in King’s Landing to fetch fresh supplies at this very moment, leaving you no alternative but to be in the maester’s solar instead.
No. None of the answers to his question that come immediately to mind are appropriate here, and nor are they the true reason for your visit. Thus, you brush them aside and take a deep breath.
“I… I have some—concerns.” At his encouraging nod, you add, “About my… supply. For the babes.”
“Ah.” You are glad he seems to have interpreted your hedging correctly; he clears his throat. “I am a physician,” he reminds you, though his tone is by no means judgemental. For all Daemon’s dislike of him, such gentility is why you believe him to be one of the best practitioners in his field, and certainly preferable to Mellos. “While I—understand the indelicacy of the subject matter, I am afraid you are going to need to elaborate, your Highness.”
“Oh. Of course.” You glance away, discomfited. “I… wish to feed the twins myself. By myself. But I”—you gesture weakly to your chest—“my milk has not come in as much as I had hoped it would… by now…”
Rhaenyra has never had this problem, you think. You cannot help it. It was not so long ago that the merest mention of a babe had been enough to wet the fabrics of her gown, never mind that Joff had had the luxury of choice in his supply. Your sister had in fact bemoaned the stubbornness of her body in refusing to dry up—she never let her sons latch for longer than a moon’s turn after each birth, preferring to, as she said, “keep her tits from turning to suckling udders”, long-teated and all. Jealousy is the sin of the vain and impious, but your beating heart thrums with it even so.
Gerardys frowns. “Forgive me—but I was certain that a wet nurse had been requisitioned for them?”
“Yes. But I would—I would prefer to feed them on my own.”
It is not as though you dislike Freda. While she is certainly loud and bawdy and oft far too inappropriate for company, she cares a great deal for Rhaenar and Aelys. You see it in the readiness of her smiles at them, how she cradles them as if they are the most delicate beings in the universe, the way she praises them so effusively for the most base and vulgar of actions—“I’ve never seen a shit so splendid, your Highness, never did I once! A talented little fellow is our little prince, he is!”—but it is not the same. You are their mother, not she. Freda’s presence is not just expected, but required to ensure both your babes have full bellies. It does little to ease your lack of surety.
Though you can tell that Gerardys is perplexed by your insistence, he stares past you thoughtfully, his eyes squinting in his concentration.
“It is not uncommon,” he says slowly, “for a woman with two nursing babes to produce an insufficient volume to accommodate them both. ‘Tis why wet nurses are so popular!”
“I know. I would just… I want to do it.” You wonder if you sound as exposed as you feel. “I am their mother. I should feed them.”
Your words seem to matter not, for the maester is already muttering to himself and rifling through the cabinet by the door, low tones interspersed with the soft clinking of glass vials being shifted about.
“If you insist, Princess,” he says absently, humming under his breath as he balances on tiptoe to reach his higher shelving. After a moment of silence, a noise of muted triumph. “Ah—here it is.”
What he presses into your hands is not an ampoule of some sort, but a plain pouch of hemp and string. The contents within shift about readily, though it prickles when you squeeze too firmly, like dried herbs.
 “Thistle tea.” Gerardys watches as you inspect his offering. “Steep for half an hour, strain. Consume plain, no milk or honey. One cup a day, no more or less.”
“How long will it take to work?”
“You ought to begin seeing an increase in production within a sennight. If you can encourage the babes to latch more frequently, you’ll have better results.” At your enquiring look, he elaborates. “The more often the breast is drained, the quicker it refills and thus the more milk you will produce.”
You colour at his use of such a word, not entirely accustomed to speaking so plainly of something so long viewed as unseemly with another man. It is scarcely tolerable even with your ladies. “You have my thanks, Maester Gerardys.”
“Of course, Princess. But remember—do not exceed more than a cup a day!”
You take his advice to heart over the next few days, exhorting the serving staff to ensure you are delivered of a cup brewed to the maester’s specifications each morning. It tastes unremarkable, a leafy bitterness so often customary of herbal tinctures and tonics, though you think you might find it more palatable with the addition of such ingredients as the ones expressly forbidden to you. The very worst of the flavour collects at the bottom of the cup, forcing you to steel yourself to stomach the sharp-tasting dregs and cleanse your palate with fresh water. You bear it silently, praying that you will soon see the benefits promised to you.
But, after a sennight passes, there is no change.
At least, you think there is no change. Rhaenar is not one for fuss and fuddle, and the one time Aelys is not so is in the hours following feeding, her belly full and warm and leading to an easy, calm drowse—but after letting them latch for half an hour, neither babe is sufficiently serene to suggest that the tea has done its duty. Rhaenar kicks and grizzles, mouthing vainly at your nipple as though you are concealing some previously stored contents still within your breast, while Aelys progresses to full, drawn-out wails. Freda watches on, wringing her hands as the twins caterwaul. The front of her dress is stained, sympathetic leakage in response to the veracity of their cries.
Perhaps it is this fact that finally breaks you.
All at once, you no longer feel saddened or confused, concerned or unsure. You are angry. Why should she—a woman who had neither carried nor shared blood with them—get to give your boy and your girl the sustenance so essential to them? What does she possess that you do not? Why have the gods forsaken you? If they have built the womanly form to bear and nurse her children, then you ought to be able to carry out your duty as intended. Not Freda. Why are they taunting you with such a poisonous reminder of your own failure?
 “Your Highness—”
“No!” Your rebuke is sharp and swift, punctuated further by what you can only assume is a truly withering glare. “Leave us!”
“But the little pr—”
“I said get out!”
The shrillness of your voice only serves to further upset the babes. They both scream, red-faced and baying, and there is a strange sort of harmony to it that might even sound beautiful were it not so devastating. The noise is such that it sets off the panicked shrieking of Azorion and Valnissar, creating a truly chaotic calamity of sound that makes it terribly hard to think rationally. Or think at all.
You bar the room, refusing to allow Jeyne or Bethany entry. You do not need their aid. It is only morning, your thoughts whirl frenetically. Plenty of time to prove that the wet nurse is not necessary.
All manner of people come to your door as the moments—or maybe minutes, or perhaps hours, you cannot tell—pass, no doubt drawn by the crying and the screeching and your stubborn resistance to letting anyone assist you. Ser Lorent raps on the door, earnest calls of “Your Highness? Is everything well?” readily enough ignored and, when that fails, the kindly queries of the maester beseeching you to let him in “for fear there is something wrong, Princess, please let us help you” also dismissed, or rather more truthfully, not quite heard through the thicket of your growing panic. You do your best to disregard anything outside your chambers, your frantic focus centred wholly on giving Rhaenar and Aelys the care they need from their mother—and their mother alone.
But no matter the hymns you sing or the steadiness of your rocking, no matter how perfect your bouncing walk to soothe them or your murmured exhortations to please, please calm down, they will not be assuaged.
You forget what silence is like. Surely you have never been without the sound of bawling infants? The intensity of it reshapes memory, blocks out any sense of rationality or level-headedness. Your own despair rises the longer the babes sob, their sorrowful scrunched-up faces all but proclaiming aloud that you cannot do this.
Your mind rebels. What was I thinking? They hate me. They hate me. I’ve ruined them. I could not give them milk, and now I cannot even stop their tears. I am a terrible mother. A failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
The hatchling dragons, emblematic of their future riders’ dispositions as is the norm, only serve to intensify the battle between your spirit and your fear. They feel as Rhaenar and Aelys feel, only they have sharp claws and sharp teeth and the mobility fresh out of the egg to express their feelings in a way the twins cannot. You cannot fend off their snapping jaws and high-pitched snarls and tend to the twins at the same time. The situation quickly becomes untenable, though you have not the presence of mind nor good sense to discern this.
“Daor,” you snap as Valnissar nips at your exposed wrist. No.
At this age, the bite stings only a little, drawing a thin well of blood to the surface of your skin. You push the dragon away, doggedly continuing to try and force Aelys’s mouth to your breast. They feel heavier again, a sure sign that there is milk enough to quell the babes’ despondency. If only they would stop crying.
You sit upright on the bed, the curve of one foot pinning Azorion to the mattress below you. He hisses indignantly but makes no attempt to shift, resigned to being trapped for as long as you deem it necessary. Positioned perfectly against the cushion provided for precisely this purpose are your boy and girl, heads perfectly aligned to take to each breast, reclined so that their tiny bodies extend below each of your arms and your hands are free to cup their heads just right. Exactly how Ūlla taught you. So why—why—are they refusing to latch?
“Please,” you find yourself whimpering, the sound lost beneath the piercing howls. At this point, they have both become as distressed as each other, never looking more identical than they do with the same flushed flesh and misery-streaked cheeks, near to seizing with the force of their sobs. You try to bring their mouths to each nipple again, but all they do is cry and cry and cry, faces turning away. “Please, it’s right here. Mama has your milk right here, please please please…”
Valnissar tries to climb over your arm to sit on Aelys. You shrug the beast off, and he tumbles to the bed in a tangle of wings. He screeches, teeth bared, and you can just tell he is about to strike at you again.
You push him away.
“Leave me be!” you say, louder and steadily more overwhelmed, your attention wavering between creature and child. Pressing the babes to your breasts does nothing to persuade them to take from you, but what else can you do? “Please drink. For me? For Mama?”
More wailing. Their fists clench, their forms shuddering.
Useless. It is useless. I am useless.
“Why won’t you have your milk?” you ask, and you think you are calm and measured but really you are starting to sob yourself, a discordant symphony of despair. “Why won’t you just accept it? Please, please, I promise it’s good enough…”
Still, tears. And the dam breaks.
They hate me. They hate me. They hate me. It is like a metronome pulsing through your veins in time with the wrenching heaves of your chest, your lungs trying and failing to force in air. The babes cry, you cry, the dragons clamour, the room feels too full—of sound, of air, of heat—and you are so terribly close to screaming at everything to shut the fuck up because you cannot do this, you cannot do this, why did you ever think you could do—
The passageway at the opposite end of the chamber bursts open. You hear it, but you cannot see through the film of your own tears.
“What the fuck’s going on here?”
Normally, Daemon’s voice—even panicked as he is currently—is enough to reassure you. But it only makes you weep more. Here is your husband, arrived to see how poor a wife he has chosen, how poor a mama you make. Here is Rhaenar and Aelys’s father, arrived to see how enormous your incompetence is, how completely and utterly you have failed to do even the simplest of things. The shame of it is enough to send you spiralling.
You do not remember what follows very clearly.
Fingers fumbling to lace up the ties loosened on your bodice. Hands laid upon the babes, the span of palm large and rough enough to disturb their vocalisations, to ease them to a slightly duller caterwauling. You clutch them tighter to you, unable to even look up to see the owner of those hands, but you are not strong enough to resist the determined reach of those arms to pluck each infant in turn from you. A part of you is relieved. They are passed off with murmurs, man and woman’s voices exchanging in low tones. You vaguely recognise them through the fog of misery. The person before you stands, another taking their place. The steady touch of someone with skin that carries the scent of medicinal herbs feels your forehead, turns your head from side to side, presses clinically at the fullness of your chest. Then, the mattress rises, the weight dissipating, and you are alone.
It takes several long moments to realise that the noise—the babes and the dragons—has stopped entirely. That they are no longer present, no doubt escorted to safety far, far away from you. It ought to be enough to torment you to madness, the final step in this harrowing reprieve from reason, but your tears have fled too. All that is left is bone deep, heavy exhaustion and a full-bodied dispiritedness that makes you sink into the pillows behind you, slide down enough to turn to your side and ignore whoever is talking, shut your eyes and block everything out.
You let the darkness swallow you whole.
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Of course he is here when you awake.
You do not know if you really expected otherwise. He has dragged a chair from the table by the balcony next to the bed, and he ought to appear more comfortable—slouched carelessly as he is, leg slung over the other in the assured manner that all men who are confident in their right to take up such space are—but his expression suggests otherwise. Not angry, no, but certainly serious; a pensiveness that comes from prolonged periods of introspection. His eyes seem far away. In fact, his entire self seems far from where he sits, as though his body has travelled back to the Keep but his mind is still in the Dragonmont.
Where he has been for days and days, you think bitterly. Reading thousand-year-old texts instead of being here.
His hands are clasped and resting under his chin, his elbows on the armrests. He seems tired. You regret the ire of your thoughts. It is not as though he has gone out of his way to avoid you, truly. He is here when you need him.
You do not realise he has become aware of your return to consciousness until you hear your name softly spoken.
“Rūhossa zaldrīzessē mazumbillā ilzi. Pōnta biktomy kisittaksi,” is the first thing he says. The babes and dragons are in the nursery. They were fed by the wet nurse.
The silence, previously unnoticed, registers at the same time as your relief. They are safe. They are far away from you. It is likely for the best, even though your breasts feel uncomfortably full.
Daemon shifts from the seat to the bed, staring down at you with an unnameable emotion in his gaze. His movements are relaxed, almost calculated, as one who is wary of spooking an injured animal. You think that if he had failed to glean some sort of response from whomever followed him into the room earlier, he would not be quite so calm.
For a moment, you are half-convinced he is about to reprimand you—until he strokes your jaw, brushes a stray tendril of hair from your face. Your heart skips a beat. His touch is kind.
After an indeterminate period of silence, the question eventually comes.
“Skorion massitas?” What happened? His tone is low, measured.
You sit up, making room for yourself by wiggling back against the pillows. Really, you are stalling. How does one go about explaining that they had taken leave of their senses?
“Ūī ūndetā, gōntō daor?” you ultimately choose to say. You saw, did you not? It sounds dull and lifeless even to your ears. “Se avy qubykto massinoti biktys ivestretos.” And the wet nurse must have told you of earlier events.
His responding look is unimpressed. Normally, you would expect him to have yelled by this point. Whatever it is that he has been told—whatever it is that you must have looked like here, near to yelling at your own infant children and sobbing with your breasts bared to the room and two small dragons buzzing about like particularly persistent insects—it is enough to stay his temper for the time being. Still, you do not believe his patience will hold for long.
You sigh, shuddering out an unsteady breath.
Even though the spell of hysteria has broken, it takes a moment or two to gather yourself. Daemon grasps your arms, erring on the cusp of too-tight to be solely encouraging, but it grounds you enough to attempt to explain what it is he stumbled upon before.
Your jumbled thoughts stream out unorganised, and you are only really half-aware of what exactly it is you convey through hiccuped breaths and shaking shoulders. Failure. Disgrace. Cannot even feed my own children. Useless. Bit by bit, it comes forth, juddered and broken, and you cannot even tell what language you are speaking in, or if you are dipping in and out of your native tongue and your learned one without a presence of mind to control it. As you speak, Daemon’s face morphs, knitted brows relaxing and mouth easing from its hard line into the gentlest of frowns. And then, you are silent. You wait for the death knell of judgement.
It never comes.
His hands slide lower, capturing your own and lacing fingers with you. He stares down at this joining, turning your wrist over as though he is marvelling at the disparity in size, in smoothness.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” It is low, strangely hurt.
Your heart thuds uneasily. This is not how you expected him to react at all. “I—I don’t know.”
He swallows, and again you are unsure if he is holding back anger or if he genuinely has none. The calloused pad of his finger strokes a line down the centre of your palm, eliciting an instinctive shiver from you.
“Gerardys said you went to see him. That you were in low spirits. Irritable. Fixed on this idea of nursing the babes by yourself.” He glances up, his lips twitching like he is reluctant to voice his next words. “He says… sometimes there is an—affliction—of the mind. It happens to new mothers.”
“You think I’m mad?” You try to pull your hand away, but he holds on.
Scoffing lightly, he says, “Maegor was mad, you silly girl. You are young. Frightened. A great deal has happened to you since we wed.”
His jaw tenses, no doubt recollecting those memories. The wedding night. The fight. Laena. Driftmark. Larys. Alicent. Father.
He sighs. “And I… I have not helped.”
Your mouth parts in protest. “I am happy with you,” you say stubbornly. “If you had not protected me—”
“And where have I been since the eve you hatched the twins’ dragons?” He turns from you, resting his elbows on his knees to rake his hands through his hair. “Hiding in the fucking Dragonmont. Like a coward.”
“You aren’t a coward. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met.”
He laughs, short and sharp. It is an ugly sound. “Yes. So brave am I, I ran away and left my young wife alone to care for my children. I’m such a craven”—he lifts his head to look at you once more—“that I found it easier to let this happen instead of admitting how deeply that night unsettled me.”
An understatement, to be sure. You do not think ‘unsettled’ is sufficient enough to capture how either of you feel.
“It isn’t your fault,” you settle on telling him. “I should have just been able to nurse Rhaenar and Aelys without crying like a child—”
“You were overwhelmed. Worried. Thinking that not having enough milk means you’re somehow not fit to be their mother. What utter shit.”
“I cannot even feed them. How am I supposed to raise them?” Your voice is abnormally high and thready. You hear it, though it does not register as abnormal until Daemon’s expression stops you in your tracks. You shake your head, trying to stave off the tremble in your lower lip. “You don’t understand. I want—I need to be—enough for them.”
I don’t remember my mother, you want to say. I only remember ’Nyra and Alicent and Father. None of them were enough. None of them were able to make me feel less alone.
How am I supposed to stop Rhaenar and Aelys from being broken in the same way I was? Who do I turn to? What do I do? How can I protect them when I could not even protect myself?
When Daemon’s touch returns, it is unimaginably delicate, nearly tentative. He cups your cheek, tilts your head so your eyes can meet.
“You are enough,” he says. “How can you think otherwise? To love them is to be enough.”
A part of you wants to heed his words, to allow him to soothe your worries as he is so often able to do. Your thoughts, self-loathing as they are, continue to press against your will and shake the firmness of your resolve. “But—”
“Ah-ah. Remember our vows, sweetling.” His lip quirks, finding fondness in memory. “Did you not promise to obey me in all things?”
You nod tentatively.
He hums. “Obey me now, then. Cast those foolish notions from your mind and listen to your uncle, hm?”
You do not think you can agree so easily as he expects. This is a war in your head that he cannot help you wage through a simple command. But you want to believe that it could be as uncomplicated as he has made it.
“Alright,” you say. “I’ll try.”
His answering embrace feels like a port in the midst of a harrowing storm. When the world around you is careening wildly, uncontrolled and unstable, you know that he will bring you back to safe shores. He would fight those waves off himself if he could. You press your nose to his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him—smokeleatherspice—and, for a time, everything feels just a little less terrifying.
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“See? They’re fine,” Daemon says. “A night away has done no harm.”
The babes are well-settled in the nursery, placid and rested and bright-eyed. Rhaenar grips onto your thumb in welcome, while Aelys kicks her legs and squeals when she sees you above her. Though you are glad for it—glad that you had not ruined them in your desperate madness—there is a part of you that wishes they had not clearly been so manageable without you.
You eye the sleeping forms of Azorion and Valnissar, coiled faithfully by the sides of each of your children. The Keeper loiters near the window, watching on.
Freda nods hastily. “They have been fed and bathed, Princess, all ready for sleep. Nothing to concern yourself with.”
She clearly thinks this ought to ease your mind. If anything, it only serves to disappoint you. Not only had you missed out—you despise missing anything they do, any part of their life—but now there is no recourse for the ache in your chest. Even thinking of it is enough to make your nipples itch, your breasts throb. You pray that the front of your gown remains dry.
You turn toward the other occupant in the room. “And the dragons?”
The Keeper is here primarily for Tyraxes and Skyfrost, the respective future mounts of little Joff and Corwyn, given that the nurses brought in to care for the babes are not equipped to raise creatures so dangerous as the ones claimed by your House. Today, though, he is responsible for four of them. If the look upon his face and the sweat glistening on his brow is any indication, doubling his responsibilities has caused a great deal of stress, indeed.
“The elder two have been separated from the hatchlings,” he says, stepping forward jerkily. It is as though his limbs are fastened upon strings controlled by some higher being—a human marionette. The effect is startling. “The younger pair have been… spirited, though they are resting for the time being.”
Daemon snorts, shaking his head. “Of course they have. At least they don’t breathe fucking fire yet.”
“Fucky.”
Your husband’s head whips over to the rug by the table, where Corwyn and Joff happily toddle about on unsteady legs. Corwyn is looking straight towards Daemon, smiling and mashing his gums on what seems to be a wooden knight.
Like most of the children in your family, he appears to have developed a liking for the man. Mealtimes now often involve the boy stumbling to Daemon’s side to pass him whatever object he has deemed necessary to be kept in your uncle’s possession, wide amethyst eyes peering expectantly upward until the doll or block or carved figure is taken from his hands. Daemon will roll his eyes, thank him and pat him on his head of dark curls, the act inciting a squeal and babble before the child waddles back to his evening playtime.
At the abrupt cessation of conversation, Corwyn removes the figure from his mouth and speaks once again. “Fucky.”
“Shit,” Daemon murmurs.  You strike his arm reflexively, but it is too late.
Corwyn laughs as he wanders back to Joff. “Shit. Shit. Shit-it-it-it-it-it…”
“Daemon!” you hiss, torn between irritation and a bizarre sort of amusement.
He shrugs. “Oh well. Nothing can be done now. It could be worse, sweetling. He could have walked in on us fu—”
“Rhaenyra will want your head on a pike for this,” you say hastily, in part to avoid scandalised stares from the attending staff and also to prevent Corwyn from repeating what his cousin has accidentally taught him. No doubt your little nephew will learn it from his half-brother, too.
“Perhaps we’d best depart for the evening, then”—Daemon’s hand is insistent on your elbow, a leading force that beckons you to follow—“lest you lose your husband to your sister’s temper.”
“That would be your own fault,” you say absent-mindedly.
You are unable to tear yourself away from Rhaenar and Aelys just yet. They are calm, yes, but this is not where they sleep, where they belong. You do not know if you can bear the sight of the empty cradle in your chambers or the absence of the sounds they make together with their dragons.
“Must they remain here?” you ask, more a whisper than a genuine plea.
“They are safe here.” Daemon reaches forth to let Aelys grasp his finger, an involuntary action since the babe had fallen into a doze during your visit, no doubt lulled by the sound of your voices. She is the more difficult of the pair to settle; you know Rhaenar will follow easily enough. “You ought to take respite from each other, if only for a night.”
His words are gentle, but the expression on his face reminds you of earlier. Obey me now. Cast those foolish notions from your mind. Listen to your uncle. You hear it as though it has been spoken aloud once again. Even so, the pulsing discomfort in your breasts stays your obedience.
“If I could just—”
 “No. We’re leaving. You need to rest.” It is firmer this time, louder and more decisive. He is not persuading you—he is telling you.
With a sigh of defeat, you lean down and kiss each babe farewell, doing your best to quell the unreasonable instinct to cry at the thought of goodbye. Daemon offers his own departing caresses and steers you determinedly out of the room. The walk is silent, though the heat of his arm against your palm is comforting in its own way.
Your chest begins to truly ache, a sensation beyond simple fullness. The dress you wear feels too tight, too restrictive, and you are forced to concentrate on pushing each breath up and out to avoid friction between skin and fabric. The smallest degree of stimulation is enough to bring your milk forth.
The irony, you think in despair. No milk when the babes need it—and now, when they are full and slumbering, my supply is as bountiful as it ever has been. How cruel, the gods are!
When you are finally back in your chambers, you barely notice Jeyne and Bethany’s attempts at greeting, their offers of assistance, their gentle repositioning and the tugging of the laces at your back. All you are focused on as the gown loosens and spills to the ground is how you will relieve yourself of the weight in your breasts without bringing too much attention to yourself. Daemon is fascinated by the prospect, true, but given the strife you have caused… you know not how any complaint of it would be perceived. Perhaps he would finally be angered by your outburst? Perhaps he would be disappointed that you had been so juvenile that you could not even take control over your own body, decide that you did not need the milk and thus ought to have been able to will it away. You have been lucky thus far. It is not likely that fortune will continue to favour you today.
You resolve to dispose of the excess in the privy. It ought to be relatively simple—your uncle is hardly one to accompany you to such a place. ‘Tis certain that the notion of wasting it, especially when your goal is to increase its yield, is disheartening, but what else can you do?
If only Daemon was less observant.
“You’ve been far too quiet,” he says after your ladies exit, tossing his shirt rather carelessly over the desk and the papers covering it. His eyes trail you assessingly, and for a moment you are worried that he can tell. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” You try to avoid glancing down at your chest. It would not do to give anything away. “I just—I need to use the privy.”
“No, you don’t.” He kicks his boots to the side, fingers working at the ties of his breeches. “It’s not shameful enough to explain the look on your face. Try again.”
“I’m not ashamed!” you say hotly, spine straightening in your affront.
It is the wrong move. Your nipples brush against the weave of your shift, the sensitivity amplified near to pain. You wince, shoulders curling inward and cringing away from the clothing you wear. As a warrior trained to spot the smallest of discrepancies, Daemon’s gaze falls down.
And there—he has it. You know he knows.
“Ah.” His nostrils flare, visage contorting slyly. “Uncomfortable, talītsos?”
Your breath hitches. It would be barely perceptible to any other, but not him. His gaze drifts between your line of sight and the curve of your breasts beneath the thin layer that separates your flesh from the cool air of the room, almost as though he cannot resist the temptation to look.
“I—they did not feed,” you say quietly, resisting the desire to squirm uncomfortably at the intensity directed straight toward you. “If I get rid of it before it overflows, I’ll make even more. That’s what Gerardys says. I should—”
“You should take off that shift.” Daemon’s breeches drop to the floor, discarded easily as he kneels upon the mattress and shuffles into his desired position, reclining like a king against the pillows. He bares himself proudly, arrogantly, the rosy flush of his cock not quite pronounced enough for arousal. His hand extends in invitation, mocking little smirk gracing the line of his lips at the hesitation he can so clearly read. “You’ll not be wasting such a bounty on a hole built to shit in.”
You sway, dubiously convinced. “It’s for the babes, though.”
“The babes are sleeping. Your husband is not—and he is ravenous, sweet girl.” A shiver travels up your spine from the gravelled timbre of his voice, the shadowed fire in his stare. His fingers flex in your direction, beckoning. “Come here.”
The pause you take before you heed his directive to tug open the ties at your neck and shrug the shapeless sleepwear off your form is not borne of any insecurity. You are not unhappy with your body. Naturally, there have been changes: wider hips, softer belly, skin etched with silvery webs across your middle, your thighs, the tops of your breasts. Though you cannot see it, you are sure that the opening from which your children were birthed has been altered irrevocably, too. You are proud of these differences. They mark the finality of your girlhood and the beginning of life as a woman. They are reminders of the lives you have brought into the world. And, like the burns that mottle much of your uncle’s upper body, they proclaim to all who see them that you too are a victor of glorious battle, all the more unique in that the war you had waged was one of life, not death.
No. You pause because you know Daemon, know what he is like. His appetites. His perversions. In any other state—at any other time—you would happily indulge his lusts. But not only is your body not ready to accept him, you do not even think you are capable of experiencing desire at present.
Even so, you step forward, bear the manner in which he leers, take his hand, and allow him to do with you as he will. There is comfort in giving yourself up.
He lays you out next to him, propping himself on his side so that he looms over you. The ends of his hair tickle against your cheek, bringing forth an immediate smile. It is matched by his own answering grin as he dips down to kiss you, and this you have missed. What surprises you is that it is not a kiss of need, but one of softness, fragile as the wings of a butterfly. You exchange breaths as you exchange yourselves in the union of lips.
“Let me help you,” he murmurs against you, the words passed forth to collect on the tip of your tongue. “Let me make it better.”
You nod, tipping your chin back as he presses his mouth to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, sensual in his languorousness. It is like he carries no purpose other than to let you feel your own body again through his touch. The imprints of cooling damp left behind ground you, remind you of how it felt when you had first come alive under him, around him. When he reaches his target, you expect a shift in his demeanour—but he continues just as gently to take your right nipple between his lips and suckle as weakly as any infant might.
One, two, three pulls, and the relief is near instant. Daemon makes a low noise as your milk lets down, melting to your contours as his arms clasp you tightly against him. The sound of him taking sustenance from you is one of the few things you can hear in the relative silence of evening, carrying with it a peace of its own.
He is able to tell when to switch before even you, shifting swiftly and easily to your left to repeat the slow, tender drags that ease the discomfort and loosen the tight, full sensation weighing you down. The only attempt he makes at receiving his own satisfaction is to rut lightly against your thigh, aimless and lethargic, a base urge to self-soothe in moments of calm. You close your eyes, cradling his head to your chest and mindlessly dragging the tangles from his hair.
In seconds, minutes, hours—you know not—his movements come to a gradual halt. His cock remains hard against your skin, though he allows himself to deliver one final, lush glide of tongue along the fount from which he had supped before pillowing his head on the emptied swell of your breast. Together, you indulge in the serenity.
Eventually, you are driven to speak, though you are loath to disturb the mood that has befallen the room.
“Thank you,” you whisper.
His palms are warm pressed to the dip above your rear, tightening there as his ears register your voice. Otherwise, he does not move.
“I should be thanking you, sweetling,” he says, each word spoken with a gravity that conveys more than just the simplicity of the statement itself.
Vulnerability is difficult for your uncle, and you have learned all the ways in which he reveals the parts of himself too damaged by the world to readily expose. It is second nature to understand what he means to tell you, what he means to thank you for. Your children. Your life here. You. It is gratefulness, protection, apology, love all rolled into one.
You smile.
‘Tis true that nothing has been resolved. You have not succeeded in nursing the babes by yourself. You have not banished the sickening feeling that churns in the pit of your stomach, a constant reminder of the doubts that plague you. You have not spoken properly of the fire and blood of Azorion and Valnissar’s hatching.
But you have begun on the necessary paths to each. Every journey, however great or small, must start somewhere, after all. And—perhaps most importantly—there is not a single ailment that cannot be eased, at least for a time, by the strength of Daemon’s devotion to you.
As you crane your neck to proffer a kiss of your own to the top of your husband’s head, you know that whatever future awaits you is one you can face.
I can do this. I can do this. For the first time in days, you believe it.
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drvscarlett · 1 month
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Let Him Cook pt5
Charles Leclerc x MasterChef! reader
A/N: I'm really so happy with all the love that you have given to this fic. I enjoy writing about it, let me know if you have any blurbs or scenarios that you wanna see. This series will continue on and on
Let Him Cook Series: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
taglist: @bookstore-of-dreams @barcelonaloverf1life @ririyulife @minseok-smaus @mehrmonga @sltwins @charlesgirl16 @six-call @spideybv28 @casperlikej @weekendlusting @janeholt3 @evie-119 @leilanixx @randomgirlnumber-13 @itsjustkhaos
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lec lerc challenge
"As you all know by now, Charles is planning to launch his own ice cream store"you started talking to the camera "And you know what funny story, he didn't even tell me"
Charles, who was by your side, was laughing like a hyena. He actually wanted it to be discovered on the the first day of April so everyone might think its a prank but then he will announce that he is very serious about it. It was an elaborate prank on top of prank. However, the news sites got a hold of it earlier.
"That's another story time. We have to get down to business" Charles reeled the topic back to the video that you two are making.
"Okay so in order to test Charlie's knowledge about ice cream, I have here ice creams that I made myself" you explained.
In front of the two of you were 10 paper cups. They have been covered on top so that Charles won't get a hint about the color.
"So my main task is to identify what's the flavor of the ice cream"Charles confirms "Easy"
"I made some unconventional flavors to throw you off" you informed him.
You can't help but giggle as you remember how you made some weird flavors for the ice cream. But hey, this was supposed to be a challenge to see if Charles' taste buds are working so it doesn't necessarily have to be a delicious ice cream.
"Okay, I am ready to scream for ice cream"
The first five cups were easy peasy. It's common flavors such as chocolate, vanilla, cookies and cream, caramel, and pistachio.
"I'm good at this mon amour"
Charles is pretty confident now. Time to throw the curveballs.
"I'm excited for you to try this"you excitedly give him the cup.
Since Charles is blindfolded as he does this challenge, the first thing he does is smell it. He is usually confident upon spelling but the frown lines forming on his face suggest that he might be confused about the flavor profile.
"This feels strange. I smelled this before but I can't put my name on it"Charles notes.
He takes a scoop from the cup and tasted it. It was evident to his face that he didn't enjoy this ice cream a lot.
"That's so sour, mon amour there are definitely strawberries in that"Charles complained.
"Strawberries and?"
There was a string of italian and french word from Charles as he tries his best to identify it. Finally, he had a lightbulb moment where he remembered the taste of it.
"BALSAMICO" Charles screamed "That is not a flavor I will put in my store, definitely"
Y/NCooks posted a photo.
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Y/NCooks turns out Charles is pretty good with his taste buds. Watch me test Charles with his ice cream skills [link]
User1 Atleast we know that Charles is committed to being an ice cream man
User2 Charles_Leclerc you should definitely try the bourbon and corn flakes in the menu
User 3 Highly agree, I would love to try that User4 were all acting like were so close to milan. Babes we live across the world.
LandoNorris do you have some plain ice cream left for me
Y/NCooks i have some but its good to try other flavors every now and then Lan LandoNorris mmm, i'll try that black sesame one. that seems like a good flavor Y/NCooks brilliant. message me when i can see you Charles_Leclerc im amazed how Y/N managed to convince you of different food choices
MasterChefAU is this Charles' entry to master chef blind taste test challenge?
Charles_Leclerc MasterChef Monaco soon??? User4 I'm laughing at the number of sidequest Charles has. SIR you are an f1 driver!!!
Charles the baker
Charles_Leclerc posted a photo.
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Charles_Leclerc okay i did all the measurements right. WHY DID THEY EXPAND
User1 I can hear Charles screaming with the caption
User2 Charles is such a mood when I try to bake things
User3 But is it edible tho?
Charles_Leclerc it is but its not as pretty User4 this is an internet highlight wherein Charles is sulking and asking the internet where he went wrong
maxverstappen1 recipe reveal?
Charles_Leclerc no ✨✨ maxverstappen1 don't want it anyways. i just wanted to know what you did so i won't end up like that User5 MAX!!!!! User6 your honor we love the lestappen crumbs
Y/NCooks honey maybe you should consider giving it some space, bread do expand when they get baked.
Charles_Leclerc they do?? Y/NCooks Yes they do. But in all honesty they look so cute, its alright honey Charles_Leclerc love you mon amour!
SebastianVettel maybe we should have a baking session one of these days, I can teach you a lot about baking breads
Charles_Leclerc sounds good, miss you already Seb User7 oh to be Charles Leclerc having the Sebastian Vettel teaching him bread and MasterChef Y/N encouraging him
tiktok pasta challenge
It was a fairly simple tiktok viral recipe and in your mind its something that Charles will be able to follow instructions with. So you set up your camera and told Charles about a cooking challenge that he has to do.
"Today's challenge, Charles will be using his listening skills. Lets see how well he listens to me"you greeted the camera "Are you ready mon amour?"
"More than ever, I look good in an apron"
You stayed behind the camera as Charles stayed in front of the kitchen counter. He was tying up his apron and grabbing your chef hat from one of the drawers.
"First of all, I need you to quarter an onion"you instructed.
Charles was immediately grabbing the onion and you immediately face palmed yourself when Charles started quartering the onion without even peeling it.
"Honey, you are supposed to peel it" you sigh
"Honey, you didn't say anything about peeling it. We have three cameras set up and editors should replay that you said quarter it and not peel it" Charles argued
You raised your hand in defeat, you should have been more clearer.
"Okay, I'm not gonna be vague. I'll make it clear"
The whole cooking went along smoothly until its time for Charles to cook the pasta. He has been heavily stressing to get the texture right this time or else it will further the allegations that he can't cook pasta.
"Calm down Charlie"
"I am very very very calm, I'm just checking" he lifted the lid for the fifth time "They have to be perfect"
"Charles is very honored to be taught by Gordon on a 1 on 1 session"you informed the camera.
The two have exchanged numbers and Charles will often ask his culinary questions to Gordon when you were not available to answer them right away. Gordon seems to enjoy the new friendship with the driver since he often send Charles link for cooking recipe to try.
"I don't wanna be an idiot sandwhich" Charles muttered, stirring the pot of pasta.
Charles got a perfect al dente to his pasta. He pulls out the baked feta and tomatoes out of the oven then mixed it with the pasta. It seems as if the dish looks pretty especially with the garnishes that Charles insisted.
"Plating is also everything"he says to the camera as he grates some lemon zest to the plate "Whatever this taste like, just remember that Y/N was instructing me so if there is anyone to blame then its Y/N"
"Way to throw me under the bus Charles"
Y/NCooks just posted a photo
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Y/NCooks The dish vs the chef. I think they are equally yummy [link]
User1 CHARLES CAN COOK!!!!
User2 alternative title charles stressing 10 minutes straight if the pasta is al dente or not
User3 The girlfriend effect on Charles is that he is now able to cook pasta
User4 I really want to try that pasta
Arthur_Leclerc i hope you never get tired of the pasta, its the only thing he will cook from now on
Charles_Leclerc i mean she loves it!!!! Y/NCooks its pretty good arthur, you should try it!! Arthur_Leclerc next family dinner? Charles_Leclerc im on it! User24 oh to be a fly at the Leclerc family dinner
User5 I think everyone ignored the caption, miss maam thirsting over her boyfriend
User6 if i was Y/N i would too Y/NCooks facts only!!! User6 Mother replied to us!!!
scuderiaferrari so charles is approved for a cooking challenge in the channel soon?
Y/NCooks he is born ready User8 kind of missed the c2 cooking challenges
everything i cooked
Charles_Leclerc posted a reel
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here is everything that I did to celebrate Y/N's birthday. This isn't a common day, its really special so I have to run at 5 to get the flowers I ordered for her. Then next I cooked up breakfast which is some pancakes, thank you Carlos for the recipe. And then I surprised her with a little bit of breakfast in bed
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and then I started making our lunch after clearing the table. Y/N had been craving butter chicken and I purposely did not take her so I could make some at home. Its a fairly easy recipe, I just had to mix some spices, cook the onions then you have the tomato paste and then cream. thanks Gordon I owe you one. She loved it so much.
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and then I started early on the dessert for dinner. I didn't do the ladyfingers from scratch, I don't have a lot of time so yes here we are. The tiramisu is in the fridge. And then since Y/N loved the Lady and the Tramp spaghetti meatballs scene. I did my own take on it. Needless to say she loved it. So yes happy birthday once more mon amour, I love you so so much.
User10 I know we have been making fun of Charles but the man can actually cook.
User11 My boyfriend be forgetting my birthday but Charles here is slaving in the kitchen for Y/N's birthday
User12 CHARLES IS THE STANDARD!!! User14 Imagine cooking a whole breakfast, lunch, dinner, with a birthday dessert???!!! GOD I SEE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE FOR OTHERS
MasterChefAU Im glad to hear you are treating our girl well, happy birthday Y/NCooks
User13 OUR GIRL??!!!! Y/NCooks he is treating me well, thank you for all the greetings
Gordongram That's a beautiful dish and effort Charles!
Charles_Leclerc Thank you !!! Y/NCooks he is screaming btw Gordongram
PierreGasly when will you cook for me
CarlosSainz55 and me?? i think there is some former teammate privileges out here LewisHamilton the current teammate is also wondering SebastianVettel you boys are not Y/N. Y/N is special. Charles_Leclerc what seb said!!!
Y/NCooks one of the sweetest gesture anyone did for me. Thank you honey for making this day extra special. I don't need any five star restaurants when I have you in the kitchen.
Charles_Leclerc I love you. You deserve the world User21 Them your honor. User22 Happy Birthday Y/N, you two are excellent for each other
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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months
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HELLO! If you are taking requests can you do a Dazai Osamu! Reader with Alastor, Lucifer and Husk? Both romantic and platonic please. If you are uncomfy with it its perfectly fine!
Hehe! Okay. I actually haven’t gotten Lucifer or Husk yet and I like both of ‘em! I’ve written about this character before, Dazai Osamu but since it’s different, I’ll try it but i am sorry, I can’t manage over six over six-to-seven headcanons for the three boys in both platonic and romantic so just romantic it is! I hope that’s okay!
Alastor
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Romantic
Alastor feels like he has to have you on a leash 24/7 and whilst it’s annoying, he wouldn’t mind being near you all the time. You’re a cunning and sophisticated person but you’re also quite suicidal and lazy at times so he has to have a eye on you all the time to ensure he won’t walk into you trying to make a joke, out of stabbing yourself
Alastor is quite protective. You’re a suicidal maniac and you even openly say to him you want to properly die with him, die with a handsome man and he is repulsed by this idea so he has to always cling you onto him to control your very bad habits and bad mannerisms. He will get you over them eventually, as your boyfriend, he cares about your health and he is thankful that you reciprocate
Alastor is glad when you’re more into your funny, caring state. When you’re more of an approachable and good person. Because then, it’s a golden opportunity to bond with you and not act as your damn suicide prevention police. He much prefers when you’re not fantasising and being picky about how you get erased then fail to complete these processes
Alastor’s quite impressed by your skills. You’re the strongest and youngest mafia leader back in your human life and your current sinner life so you have the passion you act you don’t and you’re more mature then you behave as. He is proud when he can watch you take charge and lead around the Hotel with your own knowledgeable being the main guide
Lucifer
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Romantic
Lucifer is a goofy sweetheart so you bet your ass that he is very good at keeping you passive and giggling, away from your dark mind. You’re always smiling and joking around with the King of Hell since he can handle you very well. He is as caring but he treats you like you’re made of glass. Something he won’t stop doing until your obsession over suicide dies out
Lucifer likes how mysterious you can be. You’re not entirely open, which he understands whilst being immensely open himself. He will just have to win your trust and your ability to express yourself over time as your new partner. You’re dark and enigmatic, if not the opposite of Lucifer and it’s a wonder why he likes you so much and he could write a book about why he likes you
Lucifer loves how committed and willing you are. You’ll do even the most shady things for him and he always feels both extreme pride and the extreme desire to scoop you up in his mighty six wings to kiss your face off. You’re so loyal and you do so much for him, it’s not a surprise that he sticks to you like he’s glued onto your hip
Lucifer is actually quite protective to you. He doesn’t want you touching even the smallest weapon, even if you’re an adult as well but because of your mental issues and how suicide trigger-happy you are. At least, you do have a good sense of humour and have a fun-loving side through how much you tease people, it’s adorable! Lucifer does like them, it, for some reason, soothes him hearing you play around more genuinely
Husk
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Romantic
Husk is a grumpy, quiet but yet patient and considerate man. He may be older but he is still caring and makes a wonderful partner. Especially for this carefree and relaxed soul, one who expresses their suicidal tendencies quite a lot. Husk knows about your suicidal desires and for that, he has such a sharp’s tiger eye on you
Husk(in reality, of these three boys) is the most healthy to date. He is gruff and emotionless on the outside but compassionate and gentle on the inside, he is a Tsundere at best and he doesn’t mind being stern with you when you’re falling down a rabbit hole or trying to harm yourself like it’s some comedy show. You’re life is beautiful and you need to see that
Husk relates to you a lot, on deep levels. You’re both lonely, you’re both lazy, you’re both basically done with everything but you have each other, you both hide your real selves and your genuine personality under a armour of behaviours, so Husk acts as the proper one for you two. He tries to encourage you to join him whenever-wherever and to try put your wits and intellect to good use. He’d feel so proud of you if you did
Husk always sticks around you. He never leaves you alone, he doesn’t want you hurt so he takes you to bed with him, he cuddles you to his side whenever you’re both walking, he even comes into the bathroom with you. He does it for many reasons, mainly because he feels so comfortable with you
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astonmartinii · 11 months
Note
love love love these social media aus. i am obsessed. would love to see a soft launch with carlos maybe of him showing her spain and his home? carlos just screams old money european vibes and i love it
old money | carlos sainz social media au
pairing: carlos sainz x reader a class in soft launching 101
carlossainz55
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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 301,671 others
carlossainz55: some much needed time at home
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username WHOMST?
landonorris so i see my invite was lost in the mail?
carlossainz55 i thought you were tired of third-wheeling?
landonorris touche
username was deluding myself that it was maybe his sister but the third-wheeling comment just slapped me in the face
charles_leclerc ahhhh my favourite sainz
carlossainz55 thanks mate you're my favourite leclerc too charles_leclerc i meant the dog mate arthurleclerc that's not what you said to me at imola sainz
yourusername
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liked by carlossainzz5, yourbff1 and 21,761 others
yourusername: let's go explorin'
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username i'd eat her last when we eat the rich
username what i'd do to be her friend? assistant at least?
username i saw her in madrid the other day and omg she's even more graceful in person
username her posture is insane i need it bad
username while she looks great and you're all right - are we ignoring that a MAN is driving the car?
username i am ignoring it because i don't want to think about it username she can't be the coolest person in the world and be in a relationship it's not fair
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carlossainz55
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liked by yourusername, landonorris and 359,561 others
carlossainz55: blood is thicker than water
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username my favourite pastime is watching the old money aesthetic overtake carlos' entire being as soon as he sets foot back in spain
landonorris oh he's getting braver
carlossainz55 you gonna be bitter under all my posts cabron? landonorris until i'm wifed again, yes.
username so like why is y/n here?
username is that defo her? username i was referring to her liking the post but now you say it, the girl on the horse does look suspiciously similar
charles_leclerc mommas boy
carlossainz55 didn't know it was a crime to love my mum
username so yall be yelling about y/n but not telling us who she is and why she matters
username y/n y/ln is a spanish socialite whose family own a lot of the high end restaurants in madrid but she's most known for her poetry and style username so do we hate or love her? username i like her, and a lot of people do, just usual dislike for being grossly rich but from what i've seen she's pretty down to earth
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yourusername
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liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 29,871 others
yourusername: keeping the operation smooth
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username THIS ISN'T FUNNY
username stop playing with us please
username i feel like this is all the confirmation we'll get
username y'all i know he's an f1 driver and everything but we all know he's PUNCHING
username i need her haircare routine STAT
f1wagsupdates
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liked by username, username and 1,249 others
f1wagsupdates: it's all but confirmed!! after a pretty solid soft launch from both carlos and his new lover y/n y/ln, her latest post was captioned "keeping the operation smooth", playing on carlos' iconic theme song. our sources state that the driver and socialite poet have been together for as long as six months but after other relationships and relative platforms, both were determined to take it slow. what do you think?
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username they're very cute and i can't wait to see her paddock looks
username bestie i fear you'll be waiting a while she's notoriously private when it comes to event appearances - really only going out for her family or her own events
username they're annoyingly sexy like save some for the rest of us
username this soft launch feels like its been going for about seven years
username f1 drivers defo have a type
carlossainz55
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liked by landonorris, yourusername and 720,778 others
tagged: yourusername
carlossainz55: mi hermosa
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username AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
yourusername you live in my heart
carlossainz55 and i never want to leave landonorris free real estate yourusername my favourite third-wheel carlossainz55 stay out of grown people's business landito
username they're so lana del ray coded
yourusername
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liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55 and 71,230 others
tagged: carlossainz55
yourusername: life with you feels like poetry in motion
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username NOOOOOOO WE LOST HER
username but does this mean new poetry ??
carlossainz55 you make me crazy baby
yourusername crazy in love
username when will it happen to me?
landonorris finally i can interact without having a year long argument with carlos
lando.jpeg
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liked by carlossainz55, yourusername and 301,285 others
lando.jpeg: a study in third wheeling, a six month project by yours truly
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username i'm obsessed with this couple actually
carlossainz55 as much as you are annoying landito, thank you for these ❤️
yourusername we love you landito landonorris so i can use the boat yourusername i don't love anyone that much carlossainz55 eh? yourusername other than you obviously
username lando just starts domestics in these comments and i love that for him
note: sorry this one is a bit short, but i hope you enjoyed anyway!!
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renren-006 · 9 months
Note
hello there! i absolutely adore your writing and saw that requests were open so i decided to send one in :) could you perhaps write a sierra six x reader where six has been acting kind of strange all day and the reader is confused. he’s just been avoiding eye contact and shyer so the reader teases him. from the reader’s teasing one thing leads to another and there’s eventual smut. but while they have sex he’s still acting all shy and stuff. sorry if this is kinda confusing hahaha. thank you!
Shy Boy | Sierra Six x Reader
warning: smut (female dominance) , court gentry being a very shy boy. word count: 653 A/n: hey hey!! i hope you enjoy this!! shy shy court gentry is very sweet to write! lmk if you have any other shy court request!! I also really love that you enjoy my writing! thank you so much for requesting something!
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How were you supposed to know what goes through the Court's mind? He had always been distant about the thoughts that swirled in his head but today, today was different. The man wouldn't look at you and when he did he would just blush and return his focus to the last thing he was doing. It aggravates you, the man you love was ignoring you, or more so was so shy and flustered he couldn't look at you. You didn't know which one was worse; being ignored or your lover being shy towards you. 
This went on for about a few hours. You decided to take things into your own hands and tease him relentlessly. It was easy to tease Court on a normal day but because he had been so shy and distant lately you knew your boldness would catch him more off guard than normal. 
“Hey baby” you said, in a little bit of a huskier tone than normal. Court looked up from the book he was reading on the couch to see you above him. His cheeks reddened and he blushed. 
“Hey…” he said, drawing out his sentence. “What are you um, up to?” 
“Oh me, not much just wondering what you're doing” you said to him, you slowly sat down in his lap letting your hands run over his shirt. His book ended up on the floor and his hands found your waist. 
“Baby?” he asked shyly. You knew your mission like you knew the map of him. You unbuttoned his shirt slowly keeping your eyes on his. He never broke eye contact, even when his shirt found the floor. 
“Still shy?” you asked, and the little nod he gave you helped you know that tonight, you were in control of everything, “Okay baby” 
That night it was you in controle, it was your turn to dictate what happens. Normally you would want him to control it, want him to make you beg, but tonight it was enticing wanting to hear the begging come from him. The bed was warm from the afternoon sun on it and the almost sunset light gave Court a new glow. 
He was still shy under you, still glowing in that light while you rode him and was still so shy about making a sound while you gave him pleasure. Your hips rocked back and forth on top of him sending waves into you and his soft whimpers from under you made you rock harder on top of him. The slight bounces broke Court from his shy trance and once the moans from both of you filled the room the man that you loved with came back to you all shyness gone. He took over letting you fall on top of him, kissing your neck while he pounded into you, making you feel breathless. His hips satisfied you, and satisfied the shy boy under you. 
He laid next to you. Skin exposed to the now pink and orange sky. You turned towards him, the apartment windows letting all the sunset light, pinks oranges and blues just cascaded over the room and the two of you. “Why all the shyness Court?” you asked, breaking silence.
“I…didn't know how to talk about what I wanted” he said, a little shy but not as shy as before. 
“What did you want?” you asked, concerned letting yourself sit up to face him. 
“You, in control” he told you, your smile broke the awkwardness making Court sigh in relaxation. 
“If you want me in controle, ask, i'll do it again” You told the man you loved and Court took you in his arms, the heat and sweat not bothering you as he hugged you. The two of you fell asleep to the setting sun and the comfort of the two of you.
"I love you y/n" he whispered before you both fell into a comfortable and relaxing sleep.
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axenno1211 · 2 years
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strangersmunsons · 2 months
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💖 Eddie Munson x Reader Fic Recs 💖
I just wanna show some appreciation for a few of my all-time favorite Eddie fics! Here’s a handful of the series & oneshots that have really stuck out to me in all the time I've been reading - there's A TON of great writers on here who have posted really stellar work :^)
List under the cut!
june baby by @luveline - luveline jade u are a celebrity to me. this was the first Eddie story I ever read and it is so beautiful. it's tender. it's melancholy. it's realistic. it's gorgeous. it honestly makes me feel something I've never felt reading any other fanfiction.
oh, baby by @inknopewetrust - another one of my first Eddie fics! the feeling that this series invoked in me is what I aspire to invoke in others for my own writing someday. it's just so sweet and funny and made me nostalgic, in the same way that watching '80s teen films do, except it's even better because Eddie is in this one. I wanted so badly to just dive into the story and really experience it for myself.
hoping I'll find [a glimpse of us] by @inknopewetrust - this smashed my heart into 1000 pieces, and then promptly glued it very sloppily back together and I've reread it like six times just to reinflict the pain. I love rockstar!Eddie stories that maintain some realism about what that type of relationship would look like, and this fic does that SO perfectly. masterclass in angst right here.
dancing with myself by @ambrossart - this one hits close to home! and even though it hurts along the way, there's a happy ending that it builds so nicely towards! it's beautifully paced & the reader is very funny. you can just tell that the her backstory & relationship w/ Eddie was so carefully thought out, it really feels like this was written with so much love! and I LOVE that it doesn't paint Chrissy as a villain.
10 things I hate about you by @spideyanakin - so glad that we all collectively agree that Patrick is Eddie-coded. and in this fic the parallels are there, without Eddie sacrificing his own unique character - that part is handled really beautifully! and the ST characters are worked into the original movie's narrative so well. it's the perfect mix of fluff and drama!
freaky friday by @jo-harrington - I adore this series! I love this version of Eddie so much I could cry, he is so sweet and selfless, I want to give him the entire world. and an Eddie & Steve body swap? 10/10. lindsay and jamie lee, eat your hearts out.
to know you're mine by @blueywrites - oooohboy. I almost didn’t read this one (just because I would normally avoid swinging/cheating in a fic) but I'm so glad I did, because it was like being on the homer's odyssey of 18+ ST fanfiction. it’s wild. bluey girl u were insane for this. and i mean that as an extremely high compliment. i was so damn invested!
i will wait by @abibliophobiaa, @blueywrites, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, @fracturedarkness - there's three chapters, it's on hiatus, I don't care, I will literally keep reading these three chapters over and over again and just fill in the blanks myself if I must. it's that good. you guys are amazing. I am totally enthralled.
rumor by @msgexymunson - this is what turned me on to older!Eddie. I love him, and I desire him carnally, and specifically this version of him. when I daydream about Eddie sweeping me off my feet, I think about Eddie in this series. he's everything to me. I even wrote my own older neighbor Eddie fic because of this!
trapped under ice by @munson-blurbs - the iron grip this fic had me in...I'm still going back and re-reading my favorite parts. it's beautifully developed. this version of Eddie is so real and believable. Harris is my favorite kid he's ever been given. an all-time, truly, I can't sing its praises enough.
siren!eddie by @parkermunson - a monster-ish Eddie fic! I'm a sucker for anything that incorporates mermaids and sirens and the like, so I really love this concept. it's a great story, I love our protective, doting fishboy, and hope to see more of him!
use me by @reysorigins - simultaneously the nastiest and sweetest fic ever. smut, but it's interspersed with these moments of such deep-seated love and yearning between Eddie and the reader that it made me want to cry! incredible piece.
mine and yours by @muertawrites - ahhhh this one is so so sweet! dating is so fucking hard, I think we could all use a comforting, reassuring moment with a sweetheart like Eddie, who is especially kind to us in this fic. I love the way he’s written here.
our patron saint of the arts by @storiesbyrhi - I love an artsy, crafty reader! I feel like Eddie would be sooo into someone who’s creatively-minded like him. this is the dream relationship, basically, these two are adorable together! (and Eddie in a dress! 😗)
And this is just a sample of what’s out there! Some of these are fics that I read very early on, even before I started this blog. I was more shy then, too, so I feel like I never showed them the appreciation I should have! You guys are all so talented, these works are very inspiring to me.
To readers: I encourage you to let the writers know how much you enjoy their work! Reblog! Leave a comment, even if it’s just in the tags! Write a reply, or send them a message, even if it’s on anon! I’m trying to get better at doing these things myself, too 💖
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potato-lord-but-not · 2 months
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“There’s something aesthetically pleasing about the word noon. Its palindromic spelling feels appropriate for the middle of the day, when the sun is directly overhead and the hands on the clock are pointed upward in a straight line. It’s even spelled with letters found more or less in the middle of the alphabet.” (“What Time Is…” par. 1)
Perhaps unfortunately for my argument, this article goes on to explain how the word ‘noon’ originally referred to the ninth hour of the day, that of course being 3 o’clock; because the sun and with it the people rose at six. It is derived from the Latin word for ‘ninth’, ‘nonus’. The word’s meaning apparently shifted during the twelfth century, because of the prayers of monastic orders. The second of three daily prayers would occur at noon, and the time of this prayer eventually became earlier, landing at twelve. This is believed to have been so the monks could break their fast sooner. Of course, this is not universally agreed upon and other theories include shifts in seasonal daylit hours, and European Medieval people’s struggles to have accurate timekeeping.
None of my sources suggest that three o’clock was considered the middle of the day at any point in time, therefore I would like to argue that the word noon did not originally refer to the middle of the day, but eventually, when it was given to the time that is more deserving of that title, came to do so. I believe that the denotation “middle of the day” is something that is both scientifically and culturally awarded, and that for whatever reason the people (however unknowingly) creating the Old/Middle English language believed twelve o’clock to be so. If you wish to create your own cultural norms, by all means go ahead, just remember that the word culture refers to a group, so you’ll need to find some people who agree with you. (Which, hey, maybe you already have, maybe most people agree with you and I’m just being pedantic.)
Anyways um hi, sorry about this, I did in fact make a tumblr account solely to send you this, because the idea of doing so was too funny to me to not.  Also, I just discovered that the Oxford English Dictionary website has a pay wall these days and I am DEVASTATED I tell you, devastated. But yeah, I’ll stop, have a good weekend, I love you, I hope your morning spent on public transit hasn’t been too boring.
Works Cited
“Culture Definition & Meaning.” Merriam-Webster, Merriam-Webster, www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/culture. Accessed 2 Mar. 2024.
“Noon (n.).” Online Etymology Dictionary, www.etymonline.com/word/noon. Accessed 2 Mar. 2024.
“What Time Is ‘Noon’?” Merriam-Webster, Merriam-Webster, www.merriam-webster.com/wordplay/noon-history-ninth-prayer-hour-nones. Accessed 2 Mar. 2024.
OFC you’re leaving citations on A TUMBLR ASK OH MY GODDD anyway I do believe I’m starting a cultural shift because everyone I’ve asked so far has NOT said mid-day is noon they’ve ranged from 11-1 to 1-2 (albeit a bit earlier than my 2-3 answer but STILL)
Yknow what fuck it let’s do a poll bb
anyywayyyy everyone say hi to my girlfrienddd give them a nice warm welcome to tumblr <3
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payasita · 7 months
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Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D
thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.
like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)
diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.
and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?
so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.
the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.
so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me
it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.
he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.
he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here
he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.
"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.
anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription
all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.
the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.
so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT
anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.
and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.
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lowkeyremi · 5 months
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Hello Maya! Before I start my request, I just wanna say, I love your writing!!! I've been reading your things for a few weeks now (I'm new to tumbler) and I'm hooked!!
Anywho- I was listening to "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift and it gave me the idea of fem!reader meeting Satoru at some big event for sorcerers and falling hopelessly in love with him
heyyyyyy thank you for reading my stuff and i'm really happy you made a request, i've been hoping someone would bc i want to write ideas other than my own. i'm not huge on taylor swift so i had to listen to this song lol its pretty good :) you ask and i shall provide!! also i'm sorry if this isn't what you had in mind :')
Enchanted S. Gojo x fem!reader
wc: 1.1k
content: fluff, meeting and getting together
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The night hadn't been going so well. You spilled some of your drink on your dress. That was borrowed from your friend might you add. Three guys that showed any potential interest were already with someone and their dates angrily pulled them away from you.
There are whispers about the oh so famous Satoru Gojo, and how he's finally made an appearance with his long time friend Nanami.
You've heard plenty about him, he's the famous sorcerer from Jujutsu High that has six eyes. He can solve any problem and he's said to be very hot. Honestly you're kind of a hater, you think people are gassing him up for no reason.
You've never personally met him but his description makes it hard to miss him if you see him; white hair blue eyes, but he'll likely be wearing an eye mask.
A sigh escapes your lips as you walk toward the bar for another drink, you would have invited your best friend but she's not a sorcerer and would not get it at all. "Hi, sorry for being back so soon, but could I get a strawberry margarita?" The woman behind the bar nods.
Before she can walk off though, a silky, carefree voice makes a request with your order, "Me too! Never tried strawberry margarita. Sounds pretty fruity." This day is already bad so you turn your head to see who just made it even worse-
A pretty white haired man stands by your side, piercing blue eyes peaking through sunglasses that look down right ridiculous at such a formal event. "Why are you wearing sunglasses indoors??" Is the first thing you ask, no 'Hi how are you?' or 'why are you ordering drinks on my tab?'
"Cuz I could make everyone faint with my pretty blue eyes." He smirks, confidence evident in every word.
You look confused and he finds it cute. A foreign feeling stirs in your stomach. "Just kidding. I'd waste my power if my glasses were off. Actually, I was advised not to wear them, but I didn't wanna wear my mask for this event. I have it in my pocket just in case though." He's so light and bubbly you almost forget what you were fuming about.
"You're Gojo right?" He smiles and gives a quick nod.
"And you must be 'girl with a stain on her dress', huh?" You fight the urge to roll your eyes.
"Woo that was a good one, almost made my stomach hurt from laughter." You counter sarcastically; the moodiness coming back to you.
"Haha, my bad. Anyway when we get drinks I'll find us somewhere to sit and I'll make you laugh for real." That confidence is still there. You love funny people, they're exciting to be around.
"I'm holding you to that. I need a good laugh." His smile consists of all his pearly whites and is enough to make you, or anyone around you melt.
He goes to pay for your drink, and even hands it to you. "I have to say you are way less selfish than people make you out to be."
The man in question shrugs and smirks at you, "I am very selfish about certain things, childish even. It's only the first date though so pretend you don't know about that." He waves his hand dismissively. You couldn't even care about the fact he admitted to selfishness, you're stuck up on the part where he said this is a date.
"Who said this is a date?" He notices you're trying to play it cool, but he can see right through you.
"I did. I mean if you want, we can think of it more as a blind date since it wasn't planned." Something about him doesn't rub you the wrong way or make you angry at all. He's definitely an odd ball, but he's able to make you feel something in your gut that you haven't felt in a very long time, maybe not ever, actually.
"I- what- you can't just-" You cut yourself off, lost for words, trying to comprehend what he'd just said.
He intertwines his fingers with yours. They're cold to the touch, long and slender. He does that thing where you rub your thumb across all the other fingers. On top of that he gives you that love struck gaze. You're all kinds of confused because why is someone like him trying to flirt with you??? He could literally have any other pretty sorcerer but he's walking you over to a fancy table to sit and talk.
"Ugh, you're supposed to have warm hands to contrast my cold ones." He complains, and if you weren't already stunned then you definitely were now. He's swinging his arm back in forth, with you mirroring it because he's holding your hand.
"I can't help my hands being cold, maybe you should be the one with the warm hands." He shrugs at your response. The swinging stops when you two reach a table big enough for four and pulls out your chair for you.
"I normally don't do this but you're definitely worth it." a lopsided grin covers his face.
As nice as all of this is you look around for cameras. Your mind is telling you he means no harm, but you can never be too sure.
"Okay, is this some kind of joke or show?? Where are the cameras because this can't be real." The white haired six foot something giant's face contorts into something very (ugly) funny. His face scrunches up at your words.
"I can't believe you'd suggest something like that! I'm serious, I just want to be a normal guy and have a normal encounter with someone. So, can you just pretend I'm a normal date and not Gojo Satoru?" He's telling the truth and for the first time tonight you fully relax.
"Okay, hi normal guy. What do you like to do?" You ask playfully feeling enchanted by his charismatic presence. He makes you feel a sense of freedom like you never have before.
The rest of the night the two of you goof off and talk about all kinds of things. Eventually he's being dragged out by Nanami because of how drunk he is. He'd given you his number, "Call me!!!" He whines loudly while being led to the car he arrived in.
"Okay! When I do, don't forget everything from tonight." You yell back to him.
"Like hell I will!" And he was telling the truth because about two hours later when you were winding down for bed you get a call from an unknown number. Usually you wouldn't pick up but you have a feeling that the person on the other side was none other than Gojo normal guy.
"Hello?" You don't get a response for a few seconds, your stomach drops thinking you had miscalculated...
"I miss you already, when can I see you again?" He asks sleepily.
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shuttershocky · 2 months
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So what are your thoughts on the second AK x R6 Collab? Do you look forward to it?
Personally, I'm a little sad my boys Wamai, Jager, Glaz, etc didn't make the cut, nor any of the Nighthaven crew like Osa and Kali. This makes sense (HG's approach is basically isekaing the Rainbow crew into Arknights and passing them off as funny aliens in a world of animal people rather than using any Rainbow Six storylines, which is probably for the better), I'm just a little sad that among the new batch the only character I actually play often enough to call a main is Fuze.
That being said, I'm looking forward to it. Originium Dust was one of my favorite AK events, and I really liked how HG translated the R6 characters into its tower defense gameplay, they showed some real creativity along with a weirdly specific understanding of Siege memes (such as the Rainbow ops calling Tachanka, Lord Tachanka, which is not something that's canon to R6S that's an in-joke the players have because Tachanka is a terribly weak but beloved and fun character).
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What makes me confident they'll bring that same creativity to translating their FPS gameplay into Arknights is that they made Doc an Instructor Guard. Like, holy shit, it takes a great understanding of Siege to see a medic character whose special skill is that he heals people and then NOT make him a Medic in AK.
Do you know why Doc's an Instructor Guard despite being a medic? Because when you actually see a Doc in a match of R6 Siege, they don't sit behind their allies pumping them with heals every time they take damage. You only have limited healing darts, and you can heal people at full HP to overheal. No. When you're fighting a Doc, you see him grab a partner (usually Rook), jamming them full of heals while their health is full to overdose on their HP, then healing HIMSELF to overdose his HP, and then both of them run out of cover guns blazing to kill as many Attackers as they can before they are blown to hell.
HG understands that well enough that instead of making him a medic, they make him the Guard class that sits behind another unit, buffing them but also meant to do DPS. That's fantastic, I am completely sure someone at HG remains a dedicated Siege player to this day.
Plus, I do love that the Free units on both R6S events are notoriously terrible but fan-favorite characters. Before his rework in R6S, Tachanka sucked ass, and after his rework he still wasn't picked competitively all that much, but he HAD to be the star of the event because he's Lord Tachanka with an LMG that rips through everything and is incredibly satisfying to use. In the same vein, Fuze is infamous for LOSING more games for his team than winning, since his gadgets are bouncing cluster bombs that often kill his teammates, the hostage they're rescuing, or even himself sometimes while completely missing actual enemies. You pick this guy and it's halfway to a loss already, so you're either a god on Fuze, a madman, maybe both, and that's absolutely why he's the next free unit. Now all of AK can get to experience griefing themselves with Fuze RNG. Fuck yeah.
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bengiyo · 3 months
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We are headed into our final Drama Shower show of the season. How do you rank the shows we got this season and how are you feeling about the direction of the project?
What is Drama Shower and Why Does It Matter?
Before we get into rating these shows, I want to do a breakdown of what this is. To give you a sense of how big a deal Drama Shower is, fans are regularly updating a Wikipedia page for it with relevant links to follow the project. Also, there is a dedicated MDL page for it.
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Drama Shower is a dedicated half-hour programming block on MBS, a Japanese broadcaster that is over 70 years old, in conjunction with Kadokawa, a Japanese publisher and holding group, that plays BL content at 1:30 am on Fridays. The project's main producer is Kaoru Azuma, who is a self-described long-time BL fan. He wants to show that BL can do a variety of stories in genre, and has recently stated that he wants to produce original content through the project as well.
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We originally had six shows air through year one: Mr. Unlucky Has No Choice But to Kiss!, Senpai, This Can't Be Love!, Takara-kun to Amagi-kun, Eternal Yesterday, Candy Color Paradox, and Jack o' Frost.
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I originally reviewed these shows as overall a mixed bag, but showing great promise. I liked that they got more comfortable with depictions of m/m intimacy over time. I thought Mr. Unlucky was legitimately funny (9), Senpai never found its footing (6), Takara and Amagi mildly squandered their premise (8), Eternal Yesterday was extremely poignant (10), Candy Color Paradox had ambitions that exceeded its talent pool (7), and Jack o' Frost was a really strong finish (9.5).
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MBS seemed to enjoy the performance of this project enough to continue it for another year.
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For me, I think it's very significant to give BL itself a time slot to see how audiences are responding to BL as a concept compared to the pitch of individual shows. I'm really encouraged by MBS doing this. Even if you don't care about the name MBS, you have interacted with their content, because they are also behind Full Metal Alchemist and Haikyuu! anime adaptations.
Rating Year 2
I actually liked the way year 2 started, even if I'm a bit mixed on the end. I really loved opening with Tokyo in April is... I liked that they had BL trying to be topical. I think the show unfortunately conflates some things it shouldn't, but I loved TIAI and I loved Ren and Ryunosuke's experience being gay men. I liked the changes they made to the source material. This show was dark in a way that it owned, and I really like that. I gave it a 9.
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We then moved to My Personal Weatherman, and that went over well for the people who like to see really hot people go at it with each other. I actually enjoyed how much Yoh and Segasaki actively misunderstood each other even as they were speaking to each other. I don't know that they exactly completed their story, and I suspect that there may be a future outing for this show. Despite enjoying it, I think it didn't get all of its pieces together fully and gave it an 8.5.
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We then crossed over into uncertain territory with One Room Angel. Despite enjoying a lot of what was going on in this show, I don't actually think it's a romance. It's my understanding that the angel character is a lot younger in the source material, and so they may have been a little shy about how much they did with these characters on screen. I also don't think the storytelling was balanced between the leads. However, because I am susceptible to complex stories about grief, I gave this show an 8.
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Now, we have Sahara-sensei to Toki-kun. I hated this show so much. I think it makes the unfortunate mistake of asking me to care about how homophobia and public perceptions impacts people through its flashback drama, but then does nothing with that in the front. It sucked so hard, and I'm really disappointed because I thought this show had some of the most potential, and I thought Toki was one of the most watchable characters Drama Shower had produced. I ended up giving it a 4.
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Our next and final show (I think) for this outing is called My Strawberry Film. This one will also be in a high school, but I know little about it, other than we may have a GL plot in it.
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So, overall I'd give Drama Shower an 8. I think fans of BL, and especially Japanese BL, should continue to show up and support it. The fact that we have a dedicated programming block is important. The fact that none of these shows has felt like a retread so far is super important. Drama Shower is varied. There is something in here for almost everyone. Drama Shower is the biggest commitment to BL we've had from a distributor other than GMMTV's ongoing BL slate. Taiwan has Vidol doing is four projects, but Drama Shower is the first time I know of that a Japanese distributor has focused on BL in a meaningful, ongoing way. We should stick with it.
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