#carol x des | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-144444 · 2 months ago

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pointe shoes and racecars- o.piastri

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summary: you and oscar had grown up together, and grown apart. now you're teaching him ballet for a mclaren video. will you two reconnect?

pairing: oscar piastr x fem! ballerina! dancer

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Oscar Piastri was your best friend’s older brother, what could go wrong?

You’d moved to Melbourne when you were a kid with the rest of your family, and your brother quickly started karting at a local track. In comes the Piastri’s. You were sitting on the sidelines, bored out of your mind when a little girl a bit older than you came up to you with another girl, about your age, and another little girl, much younger than all three of you.

“Which one’s yours?” The eldest asked.

“The one in the red kart, my brother. You?”

“The one in the fluro yellow. He’s our brother,” she explained. “I’m Hattie, that’s Addie, and that’s Mae. Wanna be friends?”

You nodded. “Yeah! I’m Y/n.”

And since that day, you were. Turns out you and Addie ended up in the same class in school and became fast friends, then you ended up in the same ballet class, and it all snowballed from there. Playdates became hangouts and dolls became bitch-sessions, and soon enough you were all grown up. You were a constant in the Piastri family home, sleeping over most nights to carpool to early ballet, then school, then back to ballet, and then back to the Piastri home. You watched every race with the girls, growing up alongside Oscar and your brother from the beginning. You watched both of them in Formula Renault, Formula 3, Formula 2, and finally, Oscar’s second year Formula 1 was coming up, while you brother (Jack) was staying yet another year in F2. It was funny, whenever Oscar was home in recent years, you always seemed to miss him. You didn’t mind. Oscar and you weren’t all that close, you were closest to Addie, Hattie, Mae, and Nicole. Though, he texted you when he was away and you responded, apologising for missing him, he always told you that he’d ‘see you on the stage one day anyway’. He’d always supported you. You’d always supported him.

Sadly, your time living with the Piastri’s had come to an end. You had been given the chance of a lifetime in the form of a full scholarship to the Paris Opera Ballet School, and you weren’t going to turn it down, much to Nicole’s dismay. That was two years ago. Two full years of living in Paris, down.

Paris was amazing. You missed your family and you missed everyone back in Melbourne, but you loved it in Paris. Your new fellow dancers were so welcoming and nice, and you’d made fast friends with a group of them. You’d been doing French in school since you were a kid, and you loved getting to speak it with native speakers. You’d even been named an Etoile (star) in your first year. You’d helped the Paris Opera Ballet with their online presence and started a YouTube channel with some of your fellow dancers which had garnered over 4 million subscribers. Everything was brilliant.

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“Alright everyone, gather around!” Carole called. “We have been invited to the McLaren garage this weekend for the Monaco Gran Prix,” she explained. “We will be attempting to teach some of the staff some of Balcony Pas de deux from ‘Romeo and Juliet’, and also having a photo shoot with Vogue while we are there. Y/n and Hugo, I want those lifts as clean as possible! Chop chop!”

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The week went by and finally you were walking into the McLaren motorhome behind one of the staff members who was showing you around. In the end only 3 people from the company were required to go, Hugo (Romeo), Laura (one of the company's pianists), and you (Juliet). You walked around, keeping an eye out for Oscar, or the rest of the Piastri family who had all told you they’d be visiting.

You were quickly ushered into a makeshift filming studio and told to warm up while they gathered the people you’d be doing the video with you. You chatted and warmed up, trying a few of the lifts from the show and just generally practising your moves.

The door swung open and there he was. Oscar with a grim look on his face who hadn’t even recognised you.

“Do we really have to do this?” he not-so-subtly asked Lando beside him.

“Mate I don’t want to do it either-”

“Y/N!” Nicole’s voice cut through all the noise of the motorhome and the piano stopped. She ran and pulled you into a bone-crushing hug as you laughed.

“Hi Nicole,” you beamed, hugging her back. Hattie, Addie, and Mae weren’t far behind her, and joined in on the hug, emotions flowing as you all started to catch up.

“How are you? How’s work? How’s Paris?” Hattie asked immediately.

“How’s Paris? Is it amazing? Can I visit sometime?” Mae asked, speaking over her sister.

“How are you?!” Addie squealed, taking your hands.

“I’m great, so happy to see the four of you,” you smiled but it dampened as Hugo reminded you of the job at hand. “Sorry guys, we’ll need to catch up later, the fun police has just-”

“Quoi? Je ne suis pas la « police du plaisir » ! Nous avons un travail à faire !” (What? I am not the 'fun police'! We have a job to do!) He defended, but by then the girls had already cleared out, and you’d already turned your attention to Oscar and Lando.

“Hi,” you smiled at Oscar.

“Hi,” he smiled back, a hint of blush on his cheek. “I almost didn’t recognise you.”

“I could say the same for you,” you chuckled. “Became a Formula 1 driver and forgot about your friends, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Don’t even.”

“Ready for some ballet?” Hugo smiled at the two men, who both just grimaced.

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You started warming them up, learning quickly that while Lando was not flexible, Oscar was even worse.

“And go down further if you can,” you instructed, pushing down on Oscar’s shoulders.

“Bug, I can’t go any further,” he chuckled.

“Bug?” Hugo questioned.

“Childhood nickname,” you dismissed. “Don’t start using it.”

Hugo nodded, holding his hands up in surrender. “Noted.”

“Holy shit, you’re ‘Bug’?” Lando gasped. “He talks about you all the time!”

You chuckled as Oscar’s cheeks went a brilliant shade of pink. “Sure Lando, I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“Alright!” Hugo announced. “Let’s start on some variations!”

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The boys watched in horror as you and Hugo danced around the room. Balcony Pas de deux, your favourite number of the entire show. You did everything perfectly, Hugo did everything perfectly, but when you two danced, sometimes there was something missing. You usually thought that it was just a lack of romantic chemistry because you were such great friends, or maybe it was something else. Lando and Oscar applauded as you two finished your piece, then you turned to them, smiling.

“I have to lift him?!” Lando stressed. You laughed with Hugo.

“No, you’ll be lifting me,” you explained. “Hugo’s going to teach you the moves and you’ll just need to lift me. You don’t even have to go on pointe. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

The boys stayed unconvinced. You’d picked an easy enough professional routine and you were sure they'd get it eventually. You started with teaching them how to properly lift someone so they wouldn’t get hurt, and they wouldn’t drop you. Unsurprisingly, Oscar was very good at this, you remembered how Addie and you would force him to practice lifts with you in the confines of the Piastri family home, and shockingly, the muscle memory was still there after so many years. So, you moved onto teaching him the moves for the first 20ish seconds of the dance. And unsurprisingly, he was very good at the lifts, not so good at the dancing. He couldn’t get his back leg low enough, or he couldn’t extend his arm enough, but you barely noticed. You were having too much fun to notice. You realised you’d been missing fun when dancing with Hugo. Juliet was this spontaneous, youthful character who was full of love and a craving to be loved. Oscar brought out that fun side of you. He always had. You laughed and smiled as you both danced, laughing when he’d trip or almost drop you, but neither of you cared. You moved on and taught him up to about the one minute mark in the piece. There was a lot of repetition and not a lot of male dancing in the first 60 seconds, so he was practically in the clear, all he had to do was smile and lift you. And he did. There wasn’t a moment where either of you weren’t smiling. He looked a bit uncoordinated and you looked thousands of times better than him, but you two were both smiling like little kids.

His hand slipped and he almost dropped you to the floor, concern and shock plastering itself on his face as he scrambled to catch you. “Shit, are you alright?” he asked, somehow catching you by pulling you to his chest.

“I’m fine Osc, no bruised sternums here,” you chuckled. He laughed, reminded of a crash you had in karting as a child.

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As the session came to a close, you did the first minute of the dance with Oscar and with Lando and determined that while Oscar was better at the lifts, Lando wasn’t half-bad either.

“Alright everyone, thanks for tuning in and tell us if you want to see us attempt this again!” Lando smiled at the camera.

“I have no idea how you do that every night,” Oscar sighed, clearly tired and out of breath.

“Sometimes twice a night,” Hugo corrected. “And yes, it is tiring.”

“I don’t know how you sit in a boiling car going 300 kilometres per hour for ninety minutes every Sunday,” you smiled.

“It is tiring,” he shrugged, smiling. “Do you want to grab lunch?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” you nodded. “Let me just grab my stuff.”

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Catching up with Oscar felt great. You didn’t realise how much you two had in common. From movies, to books, and everything in between. You were even too busy laughing to hear Hugo call you to join him for the Vogue shoot.

“Y/n!” He repeated, gathering others' attention. “Come on! We are being timed here!”

“Coming!” you called back. “Sorry, I completely forgot about the time. Good luck in free practice today, please don't get yourself injured,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “Love you Osc!”

“Good luck!” He called after you. “Love you too Bug!”

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“Childhood crush?” Hugo asked as you two relaxed after the shoot, exhausted after your day.

“Nah, best friend’s brother,” you explained.

“Oh, so even more of a rom com then,” he chuckled.

You scoffed. “No. We’re friends, that’s it.”

“Friends? Friends don’t look at you like you’re the only person in the room, friends don’t somehow laugh their whole way through the first 60 seconds of Balcony Pas de deux, friends don’t make puppy dog eyes at you, and still call you by your childhood nickname!” He laughed. You groaned.

“We’re not like that! He’s just… he’s intense with his eye contact-!”

“He wasn’t intense like that for me!”

“I don’t know what to tell you!” You finally gave up. “Come on! There’s no way he-”

“Bug?” Oscar popped his head in the door, sweaty and smiling. “How’d it go?”

“All good,” you nodded. “How did Free Practice go?”

“Good,” he nodded, out of breath. “Went fastest in sector 2.”

“Very impressive!” Hugo smiled, pretending to know what that meant. You chuckled.

“I was wondering if you wanted to stay for the rest of the weekend,” Oscar offered. “Both of you, of course,” he gestured to you and Hugo. “I know you're busy but my mum would kill me if I didn't ask.”

You smiled. Someone else could cover Juliet for one weekend, right? “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“I’d better get back to Paris, but thank you for the kind offer,” Hugo smiled.

“Cool,” Oscar smiled at the both of you. “Addie has offered her room if you want to share with her, but there’s also my apartment, if you want your own bed.”

“My own bed please, Addie kicks in her sleep,” you chuckled. “Thanks Osc.”

“No problem.”

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You said your goodbyes to Hugo and followed the Piastri’s around Monaco for the rest of the day. You saw some of the sights, but eventually ended up in some fancy dinner with good food and good people around you. You were laughing at anyone’s jokes, telling stories, and genuinely just enjoying yourself. Paris had many things, but it didn’t have the Piastri’s. Sometimes you wished you could just shrink them and put them in your pocket to have them with you at all times.

“So, how’s Paris?” Oscar asked as the night died down. You two were on your way back to his apartment and you were a little bit wine-drunk, but neither of you cared.

“It’s amazing, but it doesn’t have you guys,” you patted his shoulder. “I miss you guys like crazy.”

He smiled. “I miss you too.”

“How’s Monaco? It’s so funny that we’ve lived an hour plane ride away from each other and we still haven’t visited each other,” you chuckled.

“Monaco’s nice,” he nodded. “But it doesn’t have you here.”

Suddenly you were a lot more sober than you were 5 seconds ago. “Well, I’m here right now.”

“Exactly,” he smiled. “It’s really good to see you Bug.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you smiled. “Beetle.”

He laughed as you brought up his old nickname. Most people resorted to calling him ‘Osc’ or ‘Ozzy’ now that he’d grown up. He thinks his mum stopped calling him ‘Beetle’ when she visited him at school or races because you weren’t around to be ‘Bug’. Neither of you remembered why it had started, but you and Oscar were Bug and Beetle. It probably would’ve made more sense to have Addie as Beetle, with how much time you two spent together, but in reality it was just both your mums’ collective hopeful thinking that your friendship would turn into something much more. It might’ve, if you’d both stuck around long enough to see it through. Some part of him wondered how his life would’ve turned out if he’d stayed. Not that he didn’t love his life, he did. He was everything he’d ever dreamed of (well, not a Gran Prix winner yet so, not everything), well, everything but one thing. He didn’t realise it at the time, but in every single one of his visualisations of his future that he did as a child (something about a winner’s mentality? He didn’t understand it at the time), he’d imagined you being there with him. He never explicitly said it, but you were either his girlfriend or wife, or something other than a friend. It had always been a certain to him. You were his Bug. He was your Beetle. It just worked.

“What’re you thinking about?” you asked, leaning into him as the street lights illuminated his face. Since when was he so pretty?

“Us as kids,” he smiled. “Remember trying to teach you karting?”

“You mean bruising my sternum? Yes I remember the month of agony thank you very much,” you chuckled. “And I remember how stressed you were running over to me. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen you lose your cool.”

“Well I was about as stressed then as I was today when I almost dropped you,” he laughed.

“Well, you saved me this time,” you chuckled. “My knight in a shining papaya?”

He laughed. “Sounds about right.”

As you two came up to his apartment building, your conversation died down. You two went up to his apartment and he gave you the grand tour, finally showing you your bed for the nights. You said your ‘goodnights’ and then a problem plagued you. It was just meant to be a day trip to Monaco, you were meant to fly back earlier, and now here you were in Monaco with just your dance bag. What was in your dance bag? Your various shoes, a multitude of toe pads and things to stop the pain, three different water bottles, and some random leotards and a skirt.

“Osc?” you knocked on his door, hoping he wasn’t asleep already.

“Yeah?” he came to the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Of course, classic Oscar, asleep in seconds. “Everything alright?” He yawned.

No. Everything was very much not alright. He’d come to the door with no shirt on, and you really couldn’t focus on the problem at hand. “I have no clothes,” you blurted out.

He immediately opened his eyes and stared at you, then his brain processed fully what you said. “Oh, no pyjamas,” he nodded. “Sorry, I thought you meant- I’m actually just going to stop myself now.”

You chuckled. “Probably best.”

“Well I’ll give you a hoodie and some of my shorts?” he offered. “Just to sleep in, and then I can bring you to the shopping centre down the way. I think there’s a Zara there or something.”

“You really don’t need to bring me, I’m sure I can find it on my own. I’m sure you’re busy tomorrow-”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, handing over the clothes. “I have time for you.”

“Thanks Osc.”

You went to sleep with significantly more to think about, so did he.

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You woke up the next morning to the sound of a smoke alarm, a shouting Nicole, and a cursing Oscar. You quickly got up to witness the commotion.

“Y/n! Thank God you’re here!” She groaned and turned to Oscar. “I cannot believe you live on your own, you’re 23 and you can’t make eggs without almost burning your building down?!”

“It wasn;t my fault!” he defended. “You’re the one who came to the door!”

Nicole rolled her eyes as the girls laughed, watching this all unfold. Addie came over and stood beside you, smiling brightly at you.

“What?” you chuckled.

“Nothing,” she smirked. “Nice hoodie.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “I had no other clothes,” you explained as the arguing continued.

“Not a fan of sleeping in a leo?” she smirked.

“Shockingly no, and also, we have to go shopping for clothes now, since all of mine are in Paris.”

“Shopping! Yes!” Mae cheered. “Let’s go,” she said, immediately starting to drag you out of the apartment.

“I’m not even dressed-!” Your complaints were met with nothing but more pulling.”Alright, alright! Let me grab my phone and my wallet, then I’ll be back out to you, yeah?”

“Yay!” Mae cheered.

You went back into your room, tried your best to make the hoodie and men’s shorts combo look good (it didn’t) and grab your things, then came back out. Oscar was cleaning up the kitchen as Hattie talked to him about the free practice and quali today, and Mae jumped up the moment she saw you.

“Time to go!” she announced. “Bye Osc, good luck! See you at the track!” she called, already halfway out the door.

You chuckled, following behind her, Addie, and Nicole. “Bye Osc!”

He grabbed ahold of your hand and placed a key in your palm. “In case you want to come back and change,” he smiled.

“Thanks Osc,” you grinned. “Maybe leave the cooking to me tonight?”

“You don’t have to-”

“Osc, you’re letting me stay at your house, and you got me a paddock pass to see you. Let me make you dinner.”

He nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

His hand lingered for another few seconds before Mae called back to you, willing you to ‘come on!’.

“See you later,” you smiled.

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Shopping was fine, you bought some clothes and essential hygiene and makeup, then went back to Oscar’s apartment and got dressed just as FP3 started. You all rushed over to the track to watch, and it went well for Oscar, quali was probably going to be interesting, as per usual. Monaco was always a very special track and you really did enjoy looking around at the beautiful scenery. You noticed how the cameras followed you around, but you just put that down to being with his family.

“Y/n! Can I get a photo?!” a young girl asked. You smiled and knelt down to be at her level.

“Of course you can,” you smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Carlotá,” she nodded. “I do ballet! I love you, you’re so good. I want to be as good as you one day!”

“Well I can’t wait to see you on stage one day! Maybe we’ll even get to dance together,” you chuckled, heart warmed by her enthusiasm.

“I hope we do!” she smiled.

You quickly got a photo with her and then you were back on your way to the McLaren hospitality with Addie talking your ear off about her new college courses as you listened intently. Suddenly, Oscar was in front of you, sweaty but smiley.

Nicole immediately pulled him into a tight hug and you saw the weight lift off of her shoulders, if only for a short time. “All my kids are safe,” she sighed, and you knew you were a part of that. You’d always admired how much she cared and how deeply she cared about everyone in her life, it was incredible. Hattie hugged him next, then Addie, and lastly Mae. You smiled and gave him a pat on the back as Zak Brown ushered you further into the hospitality for a ‘family lunch’.

“So, I never knew Oscar had a girlfriend,” Zak smiled, turning to you.

Your face dropped. “Oh, um… he’s not my boyfriend. I’m just a family friend,” you explained. The air in the room had been sucked out and everything was a bit more awkward.

“Oh gosh! Sorry, I just thought because of the video- I really need to remember to not just believe YouTube comments,” he chuckled. He’d somehow charmed his way out the awkward moment, and you found yourself laughing too.

Oscar wasn’t laughing. He quite liked the idea that his boss thought you were his girlfriend. He was just as fond of the internet thinking you were his girlfriend. He’d made a devastating revelation last night. His mum had been right all those years when she told him that he’d end up with you. Well, not that you’d ended up together yet, he still had to do the ‘asking out’ part. Nicole watched as his frown deepened the more you laughed at the comments of the YouTube video of you teaching Lando and Oscar ballet with Hugo.

“Wow, I think you might need to post something to tell everyone you’re just friends,” Zak laughed, showing you some more comments.

You nodded. “I’ll post a baby picture or something,” You chuckled, turning to Oscar. “At least you’ve got the acting part of ballet down.”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

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As the day progressed, you watched with bated breath as quali went underway, and Oscar qualified P2. You were ecstatic, jumping up and down with Addie and Nicole as Hattie and Mae cried in the back. All five of you had never been good with toning it down during his races. You just loved him so much, NOT like that, obviously. But in the friendly, totally platonic, family friend way.

Nicole led the rest of you through the motorhome and you finally found him, sweaty and smiley once again.

“Osc!” Nicole cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Addie, Hattei, and Mae all joined their hug, and you weren’t sure if it was right for you to join too, so you stayed back, taking a few photos of the five of them hugging. A part of you wanted to make it your wallpaper, but suddenly Oscar was in front of you.

“Congratulations!” you smiled.

“Y/n, I’m tired and I really don’t want to beg for a hug, please?” He smiled. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck, his went around your waist, burying his face in your shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Well done Osc,” you smiled.

You didn’t catch the way Addie and Hattie smirked at each other, or the way Nicole gushed over the two of you, or the way Mae took a few photos of the two of you, immediately sending them to Oscar’s phone, knowing he’d want them.

You pulled back, a bright smile on your face, then turned to the girls. “Alright, I’m making dinner tonight, you guys ready to go?”

“Oh, we have a booking at this restaurant tonight,” Nicole sighed. “Another time?”

You nodded. “Of course, see you all later,” you smiled.

If you’d looked slightly more to your left, you would’ve seen Oscar silently beg them to not intrude on the date you didn’t know was a date. Of course, being the Y/noscar shippers they were, they obliged with as minimal smirking as possible, which was a lot. You hugged them goodbye then turned to Oscar.

“Alright, you go shower and then direct me to the nearest supermarket!” You instructed and he smiled.

“Sir, yessir,” he joked, saluting you. “You can wait in my driver’s room if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

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Your evening was wonderful, you spent the evening walking around Monaco and grabbing supplies for dinner, then the actual cooking was rather enjoyable (aka you cooked your famous chilli and he sat in the corner, chatting away to you) and finally, cozying up on the couch with your favourite childhood movie, Cars. Well, it was his favourite, yours was Ballerina. Anyways, as the film continued on, you found yourselves getting closer and closer to each other. First it was an arm around the back of the couch, then an arm around you, then you were leaning into his side, until you had your head on his chest and he had a satisfied smile on his face.

As the film came to a close, you got up and stretched, yawning.

“Y/n,” he spoke. “I’ve really enjoyed having you around these past few days,” he smiled.

“I’ve really enjoyed being around you,” you smiled back.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out. It wasn’t exactly the smooth delivery he’d imagined since he was a teenage boy stalking your instagram from thousands of kilometres away, but it would work. Hopefully.

“Pardon?” You stared at him shocked.

He let out a nervous breath. “I’m in love with you.”

You nodded. You didn’t exactly know what to make of it all. You loved him too, so why wouldn’t your mouth make the words? This was so stupid, just say it! Say it! Say-“I love you too,” you finally blurted out after a few seconds of buffering.

His nervous frown turned into a bright smile, and his hands landed on your waist, pulling you into him. He hugged you close for a moment, internally calming down. “Kept me waiting there,” he chuckled.

“Sorry,” you smiled. You pulled away a little bit, then pressed your lips to his. “Brain fart.”

He laughed, then pressed his lips to yours again, in a perfect, Oscar, kiss. You could feel his hands on your waist, every brush of his brush against your forehead, every piece of skin on yours. You couldn’t get enough.

“You have a race in the morning,” you whispered, pulling back from the kiss just enough to remind him.

He nodded, connecting your lips again. His kisses were getting more and more heated, more and more consuming, more and more hungry. He was barely listening. He was kissing you. Everything little him had dreamt of.

“Oscar,” you pulled back, getting serious. “Wait until after the race, alright?”

He nodded, pressing his lips to your again, this time quicker and softer. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you smiled. “I would want to too, just… I don’t want to impair you’re-” you awkwardly tried to explain as he tried to hold back laughter. He failed and ended up laughing in your face, only making you laugh too.

“God I love you,” he smiled bashfully.

“I love you too.”

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The next morning, you woke up to Oscar beside you, his arms wrapped around you. You smiled. This felt right. He felt right.

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You walked into the paddock hand in hand and Nicole immediately gasped. “You’re finally together?!”

You laughed. “Yeah, we are,” you nodded. The four of them were a mix of cheering and crying, all ecstatic for you both.

“If you hurt her I’ll kill you!” Addie warned, pointing a finger in Oscar’s face.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiled, looking at you.

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You watched in awe as he crossed the finish line in P2, celebrating with his sisters and mum. You all ran to the Parc Fermé, ready to greet him. He ran over to you five, hugging his mum first, then running straight to you. He smiled then pulled you in for a kiss.

“Congratulations,” you smiled, pulling back.

“I have to watch you dance now,” he rushed out as Addie pulled him over for a hug. “I love you!” He shouted, being pulled away by Lando, knowing they were on a time crunch.

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2,830,623 likes liked by landonorris, y/nballet, and others oscarpiastri Bagged myself a dancer, and a second place trophy. Great weekend :)

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user83: WHAT THE FUCK MY WORLDS COLLIDING

user73: BRO HAS ULTIMATE RIZZ -> Hattiepiastri: INCORRECT BUZZER, they've been in love with each other since they could walk, they just didn't know it yet.

nicolepiastri: My babies ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

landonorris: NOW HE'LL STOP THIRSTING -> oscarpiastri: polly not...

y/nballet: my love ❤️

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7,830,725 likes liked by oscarpiastri, hugomarchand, nicole piastri and others

y/nballet: Bagged myself an Osc :)

oscarpiastri: I love you ❤️ -> y/nballet: No papaya heart? -> oscarpiastri: shut up please.

user73: WHAT IS GOING ON IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS??? -> user26: they've been friends forever and now they're dating :)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #mclaren #oscar piastri x fem!reader #f1 fluff

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fumikomiyasaki · 1 year ago

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And here is me making myself happy again by doing Carol ship content... illness wins again... but well I tried.

Carol x Tidus @the-trinket-witch (Hope you don't mind this I liked the idea I send you)

Carol x Des @thetwstwildcard

Carol x Keisuke (With Souta spying) @sakuramidnight15

Carol x Kaminari @vivaresmala

Carol x Rowan @forestwispocs

Carol x Kronos @silent-dragon

I will after some thing get soon to the school uniform updates

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland ocs #twst #disney twst #twst ocs #twistedwonderland #twistedwonderlandoc #Carol ann #carol x tidus #carol x des #carol x keisuke #carol x kaminari #carol x rowan #carol x kronos #carol x plant gang

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arabellasleopardcoat · 4 days ago

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The Brave (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: A collection of first times with Daemon.

Warnings: Bastard! Reader. Daddy issues. Corruption kink. Innocence kink. Age difference, power imbalance. Poorly translated HV. Angst. Enemies to lovers (Sort of?) Happy ending. Usual warnings for Daemon (Sexual thoughts, mature language, violence)

Requested: Yes! My first after Halloween, life has been crazy.

THE FISHERMEN SAIL too early for your liking. You know it has little to do with their personal preference, and more to do with the tides. It doesn’t mean you are happy about it, though.

Your job is to ensure all your ships are in good condition and ready to transport whatever those men bring home. Your mother had made a small fortune by expanding her father’s fleet, and after her passing, it was your turn to handle it. You preferred to oversee things personally, knowing that only an owner’s touch could ensure the quality of service you prided yourself in.

No one loved these ships more than you. Small and old they were, but they tied you to your mother. You lacked her knowledge, and sometimes, they made you far less money than you hoped for, but you insisted on keeping them. Your siblings had not shown such an interest, choosing other pursuits.

Allyn, much more practical, had preferred to learn the trade of a shipwright. He now worked under Lord Corlys. It embarrassed you to say it, but it was him and not you who was the breadwinner of your family. Some months, if not most, it was far more lucrative than your business with the ships.

Addam worked occasionally as a shipwright too, but he didn’t have a steady source of income. He was far too young to be hired anywhere, lacking the experience most lords wanted from those building their ships. Sometimes, he also helped you.

Today wasn’t one of those days. Otherwise, you would have forced him to come here in your stead. With a grumble, you jumped from the ship to the dock. Everything was as it should, so you had to move to the next one.

The sunrise makes Hull look even more beautiful, the city slowly beginning to rise under Driftmark’s watchful eyes. The white marble and ivory of the castle provide a backdrop for the goldens and pinks that color the scene. It would make you smile, were it not for the fact that the peaceful morning is ruined by every damn bell in the city tolling.

Visitors. Noble ones. By the amount of noise, they are announcing the visit of someone very high ranking.

The splash of cold water against your ankle makes you grumble more. You hated getting your shoes wet. Or your ankles. You fix your hair scarf, worried that the sea breeze will make it come loose.

You shouldn’t have bothered. A harsh gust of wind takes it fully off and nearly sends you caroling into the water. The dock shakes underneath you, the ships and water agitated by the same thing. You scream, as do the rest of the sailors who are near.

As you look up, you see him. A man, with silver hair and a smug look on his face, riding atop a dragon. He is showing off, ducking low, the dragon’s tail dipping in the water before springing back up again. It is what is causing the breeze. You marvel for a second, wondering how such a gigantic beast can be so nimble.

You had never seen a dragon up close before. You are not allowed to go near Driftmark, where the Princess and the Lord and Lady keep theirs.

The few captains and sailors that were on the docks alongside you have fled. But not you. Alone, silver hair in full display, you stand frozen in the same spot you had been before seeing him pass.

The man smiles. He winks at you.

You lower your eyes and do not stop running until you are safe at home.

DAEMON SEES YOU again when he least expects it. He has looked for you in every pleasure house on this island and has not been able to find you. The brave little maiden with silver hair, who had screamed bloody murder but stood her ground on the docks when she saw him approach.

You must be of Valyrian descent. There is no other explanation for your lack of fear. You were young and comely, so he had guessed that you must be a whore. It was what happened to girls who looked like you. Men loved pretending they were either a Princess or the daughter of some lord. And so close to Driftmark? They probably asked you to pretend you were little Laena Velaryon.

Daemon would have so enjoyed to play such a game himself. His future bride was far too young to do little more than court under her parents’ watchful eyes. If he could sneak a bit of a taste in advance, you wouldn’t catch him complaining about it.

When he had agreed to accompany Corlys to oversee the progress being made on the news ships for his fleet, the last thing he expected to encounter was you.

Your laughter was the first thing that caught his attention, a sound so girlish it seemed improper among the men carrying saws and woods for the ships. His head had turned instinctively towards the sound, and it was then that he saw you.

The dress you had on was a plain gray, as it was the headscarf you wore. But Daemon would know that face anywhere. He had sought everywhere for it. You were holding a small basket, next to some shipwright. The man looked older than you, already bald. You were all smiles and animated gestures, seemingly taken by him.

The man tickled your side, and you laughed again. You handed him the basket and kissed him on the cheek.

Daemon seethed. He hated sharing. With whores, it was to be expected, yet it didn’t make it anymore palatable. It was why he enjoyed taking maidenheads so much. Yet, he could ignore it if the woman was pretty or well-trained enough, like he did with Mysaria. To watch a whore with her lover, though, it was intolerable.

Whores were professional liars. You paid them to pretend to be someone they were not. But watching you with a man you truly loved would forever break the fantasy. There was no way he could believe the sweetest lies on your tongue, not when he knew what you looked like when truly in love.

Is it in bad taste to approach you when his future father-in-law is distracted by his sailors? Probably. But he cannot stop himself. Because the only thing Daemon can think of, the only thing that would make him feel better, is to bring you as low as he. Ruin your little fantasy as you had ruined his.

He marches towards where the man and you are, and gently cups your chin in his hand. The sudden interruption startles you, and you try taking a step back, but his sweet hold has turned into Valyrian Steel. There is no escape for little whores.

“I looked for you in the brothel, but you were not there.”

“I… Excuse me?” Your voice is shrill, more angered than panicked. “Do I know you?”

And oh, the nerve on you. The nerve to question him, as if he were just a passing man on the street and not a Prince of House Targaryen. The same nerve that drove you to stand your ground against Caraxes.

Begrudgingly, Daemon has to name the strange feeling taking place in his stomach. Awe. Admiration. You had fire in your belly, and steel on your spine. You were a truer Valyrian than many of his own family members.

They were weak. Soft. You were not. But you were still a mere peasant, and he couldn’t allow you to disrespect him such.

“You should be more careful on how you address your betters.”

You shove him, hard. And Daemon feels his rage bubbling up, and raises a hand to do something he will most likely regret… But before he can strike you, the man you had been smiling at steps in.

“Unhand her.” He says, voice firm. His expression doesn’t waver, the same steel you have mirrored in his brown eyes. Up close, he is much younger than Daemon expected, tall and muscular from what seems like a life of hard work. He tugs you behind him.

“And who are you? The husband? The brothel owner?” Daemon sneers, getting in his face. Your hand comes up in between them, fragile and unadorned. Yet, you hit with strength, palm flat against his chest. Daemon laughs and grabs it between his. You attempt to pull back, but his grip is much firmer. “Ah, cupping a feeling, sweetheart?”

“Daemon.” And really, things were just turning interesting. Why does Corlys have to interrupt at the worst time possible? “Unhand her immediately.”

At his appearance, both you and the boy turn an awful gray shade that matches your dress and headscarf. Fear of their liege, perhaps?

But the boy’s jaw ticks, and your dark eyes lower in a manner that they hadn’t when facing him. Something else is at play here.

“I was just…” Daemon slowly retracts his hand, studying the surrounding faces carefully. You, sullen, the boy enraged. Corlys’ cold as ice. Neither of you speak, yet it is clear you are not strangers.

“I do not care. Unhand her. We do things different in Driftmark.”

And the tone Corlys uses is strange, for a man unbothered by the costs of power. What are two peasants to the favor of a Prince? Why does he know them? He had never struck Daemon as someone concerned by his subjects.

And then, a piece of your hair falls out of your headscarf. Silver against a dark background. And it is then he knows it. You are no dragonseed. Nor is the boy with the shaved head.

“YOU DO THINGS different here, for certain.” Prince Daemon says, appearing at your window while you knead bread. His presence is as unexpected as it is unwelcome. It is the first time you are home alone after the incident, not Addam nor Allyn willing to risk this stranger attempting anything worse than he already has. Three days had passed, and they had considered it enough. If the man had not approached you during that time, it meant he wouldn’t, right? Clearly no. He had just been bidding his time, waiting for both of your brothers to go. “Corlys's little secret.”

Your hands shake. You wished Allyn wasn’t so set on teaching Addam his craft, and hadn’t gone out today. Being home alone with a strange man around didn’t spell anything good for you.

A quick glance at the door reassures you that it is still barred. You take a not so subtle step back from the window.

The prince lip’s quirk upwards, not quite a smile, but betraying his amusement. Does he find your fear funny?

“I won’t hurt you, my lady. I didn’t mean to scare you, either.” His voice is gentle, as if dealing with a spooked animal. The title makes you scoff. No one has ever called you a lady, much less a Prince.

As a child, you used to watch Laena Velaryon and pretend you were her. Wondering what life would have been like if you didn’t have to hide, if your father acknowledged you. Wondering what it would feel, to be a Lady and never go to bed hungry, to be surrounded by beauty all day.

You are no lady. You are a bastard girl, and you have gone to bed nearly starving more times than you could count.

As if sensing your thoughts, Prince Daemon lifts one of his hands. He holds up a package, wrapped in bright white silk. Both he and his gift look deeply out of place here, near your window. In his fine clothes, in brighter colors than you can afford, he sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Any child of mine, even if natural-born, would never have to go hungry. Your father should be doing more for you, not hiding you three like a shameful secret.”

You do not take the parcel. You merely look at him and fight an overwhelming urge to cry.

“Here.” Prince Daemon pushes the parcel through the window. “Consider this my apology for my behavior. Rather uncouth, huh?”

You open it carefully. Two smaller parcels fall from it, both as carefully wrapped.

“You can wear the silk.” He tells you, gesturing to your hair. “And the rest…”

Curious, you peer into one of the parcels. It’s full of cured meat.it would have cost him a pretty penny, having it already preserved for you. It is a luxury Addam, Allyn and you never get to have. Not since your mother passed.

With rushed hands, you open the other parcel. A small sack of flour, lemons, and pages torn from a book. They are all expensive things, nothing like the flour you buy at the market to make bread or the bruised fruit you get when Addam craves something sweet. You squint at the pages, puzzled by their presence.

“Mix one cup of flour with… Is this..?” You ask him, astonished. A small smile begins to form on your face.

“The recipe for lemon cakes. For your baking.” He smiles back. He then gestures to your hands, still covered in flour. “I hear you enjoy it. Just… Save me a piece.”

“Thank you.” You beam at him. He gives you a bow, and leaves. You find yourself smiling like a fool the rest of the afternoon.

You cannot believe it. Prince Daemon has just given you the recipe for lemon cakes. As far apologies go, this is a great one.

Addam and Allyn go to bed with full stomachs. You go to bed with yours full of butterflies. No one has ever ensured such for the three of you.

“IS IT CLOSE enough?” You bite your lower lip, watching Daemon chew a piece of cake. His brows furrow a bit, and he lets out a small, throaty moan.

“Close enough. A tad more lemony than the one at Driftmark, but I like it.” He smiles. You fight the urge to beam. He has been coming almost daily after bringing you the lemons, but it is the first time you allow him to taste your creation.

He says it is because he enjoys the walk. You are not entirely sold, but thinking it is to see you seems a bit conceited.

“I got excited.” You scratch the back of your neck, sheepish. The batter had smelt and tasted so heavenly, you had just kept adding more.

Daemon laughs. He uses his now free hand to tug you towards his side. You love when he does that. The gesture feels very protective. He never lets you walk too far from him, or on the side next to the ocean, so you never stumble or get soaked by an errant wave.

It’s peaceful here. He often says he cares not for the ocean, but the two of you always walk the same route. From your home, towards your ships, then back.

“Wouldn’t you like to go somewhere else?” You ask him, watching the waves lap at the shore. Then, feeling stupid for asking, you lower your eyes. As much as you feign blindness, you are not blind. He is probably ashamed to be seen with the likes of you. Even your father is. Why wouldn’t a Prince?

Your eyes feel warm, and your vision blurs. Gods, you hate crying. You try to focus on something else. Your scuffed shoes. His boots. The sand under your feet. The urge to run away, and scream, and die from the humiliation of even asking.

Daemon sighs. He sits down on the sand, patting the space on his side. His clothes, despite their simple design, are very fine.

“Your clothes…” You mumble, without sitting.

“Bah, I have three other cloaks like this one.” As if proving a point, he takes it off, laying it down for you to sit. You feel even sillier at his patience. “Come. Sit down, jorrāeliarzys.”

You obey him because there is little else to do. You have already messed up, you don’t wish to make any other mistake. His company has become precious to you, a welcome respite from your brothers. Living with two boys, you are never alone. But every so often, you wish for more engaging conversation.

“I am not ashamed of being seen in your company. I just… I thought you preferred it here.” Daemon explains, softly tucking a stray curl behind your ear. “Would you like for us to meet in the city, instead?”

You think of meeting him in the city’s market. Of the rumors that would sure follow, of the names you would be called. Of your father finding out. You know what it would look like to him. That you are making the same mistake as your mother did.

You are not dumb. Daemon is not here to simply plan an alliance. Alliances are always sealed in blood, and your half sister is barely old enough to be considered.

Your mother and you are different. She didn’t know your father was using her. You know Daemon is using you. And you intend to use him right back, milk him for all of his worth.

So why does it hurt like this, why does it feel like something inside you is breaking?

You take the parcels he gives you without any shame. That night, as the three of you are eating a generous serving of venison, Allyn scowls.

“I don’t like it. Can’t you see what he wants?”

Addam’s fork freezes midway to his mouth. He looks down at his plate, as if he is truly seeing the meat he is being served for the first time.

“I am not mother.” You say, icily. The venison tastes bitter on your tongue, but stubbornly, you keep eating. Allyn is just angry that it is not longer him who is putting the meals on the table. “I know what highborn men are like.”

What your father is like, too. How they use women as if they were little more than things, how they produce children and leave them to their fates.

“All the more reason not to allow him to take your maidenhead.”

“Do you listen to yourself?” You scoff, getting up. “Maidenheads, as if I were some great lady. I can handle it. Handle him.”

Allyn looks at you, eyes full of pity. You cannot bear it. Your eyes sting again. You hurry out of the table.

“Where are you going?” Addam reaches forward, as if to grab you.

“To my room. The two of you have ruined my appetite.” But it wasn’t the two of them, not really. Daemon is ashamed of you, the voice in your head whispers. Ashamed of you, just like your father was. He only wants to use you, and once he has had his fill, he will discard you. Just like your father did to your mother.

Alone, in your room, you tear the headscarf he had given you to shreds. You squeeze the rests on your palm, you make a ball, you throw it against the wall.

The next morning, you have sobbed your throat raw. You still go to meet him in the afternoon.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Daemon can tell when he picks you up that day. Your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and your complexion an awful gray. The headscarf he had given you is nowhere to be seen, and you are back to your severe gray one.

Like a bad case of heartburn, the lie he had told you comes back to him, leaving an acrid taste in his mouth.

Daemon is not ashamed of you, but doesn't want to be seen with you either. The consequences for you would be too great. He had learned his lesson with Mysaria. The double stain would have made you a pariah, both because of your birth and because of whom you were bedding.

Because it was all that people would think about when they found out. No one would believe Daemon had yet to touch you.

He was unsure if he ever would.

You were an extraordinary girl, yet still a bastard. There was nothing to be done about it. All you could be was friends and lovers, and nothing more.

Yet, your dark eyes were so kind, your face full of such happiness, Daemon dared not to sully you. Something in you screamed at his instincts to protect, something tugged at his heartstrings when he saw your face scrunched up towards the sun, and told him to gather you in his arms and never let anything touch you.

Daemon had been like you, once. When younger. He, too, felt a lack of acknowledgement by those around you, and an urge to prove himself. His father had passed when he was still young, and Viserys had received all laurels. It would have never bothered him because he loved his brother, but Viserys had left him behind. Married Aemma. Had children. Gained the love of his people, found new friends.

Never once Viserys had looked at Daemon. No matter how hard he tried to reach for him, his brother always evaded his hand. Daemon had been left there. He, too, had stood on the shadows and feigned indifference, burning up with secret resentment.

The idea of you growing up to be like him was both appealing and horrifying. There was a sweetness to you, a naïveté that he had lacked even in his younger years. He wanted to preserve it. Shield you from the world.

Bedding you would ruin you. Daemon enjoyed playing the role of mentor, teaching you new things, helping you gain experiences you would never get as a bastard girl. Yet, you had such a tempting figure, with a mouth made for sin, and a body that begged for worship. You were a little girl, but you had all the self-possession and looks of a grown woman.

You would taste exquisite on his tongue, crumbling from his caresses. Your cunt would feel like wet velvet around him, and you would sound your sweetest when he was spearing you open on his cock.

And how would you smile, joyous and fierce, his brave girl. Some maidens cried, but not you. You were made of sterner stuff, a heart that burned brighter and stronger than the Fourteen Flames. You had stood your ground, terrified but unbowed, in front of Caraxes himself.

Such a face you had, all Valyrian empress. A sovereign nose, the fleeting shadow of your eyelashes, and a slippery laugh that always gave you an air of mischief. A face not made for sadness. It is what prompts him to do what will become either the greatest mistake of his life, or his greatest triumph.

“I was thinking…” Daemon says, watching your expression closely. “We could go to a tavern tonight.”

“A tavern?” The surprising offering shakes you out of your sadness. Your face changes from a sad little frown into a curious one.

“Have you ever gone to one?” Daemon tugs the hair scarf from your hair, softly. The silver curls fall free, in a lovely mess. You scowl, trying to get it back, but he holds it just out of your reach. It’s a lovely thing, to watch you give little jumps on your tiptoes, curls bouncing with the motion. “Ah! None of that, now. Answer my question first.”

“No, I haven’t. Addam and Allyn go from time to time, but it sounds too rowdy for my liking.” You cross your arms over your chest.

“It’s rowdy, but in a good sense.” Daemon cannot help it. Your curls are a bit mussed, from wearing the ugly headscarf for too long. He fixes them, fluffing them up slightly at the roots in the way he has seen handmaidens do for Laena. He then tosses the damn thing into the sea, for good measure, ignoring your outraged cry. “Drinks, music, people, greasy food. You will love it.”

“I hate drinking.” You wrinkle your nose, cutely. He fights the urge to bite you. The face you make is too sweet, too tempting.

“Because you have only drunk swill. I’ll teach you to drink real wine.” He tugs you into his side, and begins walking back into the city.

The walk to the city is awkward. Not because the two of you have nothing to talk about, but rather, because of the stares. Your silver hair, despite your simple clothing, commands attention. So does Daemon’s presence, and the arm he has around your shoulders.

He had not been wrong. This would cost you. A cost too steep for someone he sought to keep safe.

Still, you face it all bravely, as you had that morning at the docks. The two of you manage to get a cozy table in one tavern that Daemon had visited before. He calls for wine to be served, an expensive barrel from the Arbor he is sure they had kept around for years before anyone had the coin to buy it.

It’s delicious. But when he serves you a goblet, you take a big sip and begin to splutter.

“Mittys hunes iksā.” Daemon tuts. His silly bunny. “You are not meant to drink it such. You ought to savor it.”

“Savor?” You arch an eyebrow. “Tastes like dragonfire.”

And perhaps it's the choice of words, or the glint of your silver hair under the low light emanating from the torches, but something about you reminds him of the way he had loved Rhaenyra and admired Laena, the other Valyrian beauties in his life. They are not here, he cannot reach them. But you are.

“Come here, hunes.” His own voice sounds strange to him, low and demanding. When he calls you bunny, he is not exaggerating. Does the fox feel as wrong as he feels when becoming over his prey? Does his gums ache like Daemon’s do, with the urge to bite, to tear apart, to wound? Does he mourn the little bunny whose innocence he is about to shatter? “There is something I wish to show you.”

You eye him warily, but get up from your chair and move until you are standing in front of him. It's not enough for Daemon. It never is. He always wants you closer, closer to hold, to protect, to own.

He tugs you between his parted legs.

“Do you trust me?”

There is a slight furrow of your brow. The barest hint of hesitation. Yet, your voice is firm when you answer him.

“Yes.”

His girl. His precious girl. If you had been his, he would have never hurt you like Corlys had. Never allowed to become easy prey for men like him. You shouldn’t trust him.

Daemon shouldn’t be doing this, either. It is a good thing he has never claimed to be a good man.

He takes a sip of his wine, and leans towards you, capturing your mouth in his. At first, you fight him, the suddenness startling you. It’s only when he gives your lower lip a sharp nip, that you melt into the kiss. When your mouth parts slightly, he passes you the wine.

You splutter, but Daemon holds you down, arms held by your side. He forces you to take and take some more, chasing the tart taste of the wine into the honeyed one of your mouth.

Your obedience and compliance only makes him wilder, drives him to grasp at your hips, pull you closer. Just when you begin to lean into Daemon, dutifully swallowing the wine, someone jerks you out of his grip.

“I did not think it to be true.” A woman��s voice, one he knows too well, says. Rhaenys. Her face is a mask of absolute rage. She gives you a shove that sends you stumbling before Daemon can even get out of his chair. “You have much nerve.”

Your face turns ashen. You look like you are about to cry, or worse, flee. Daemon jumps up, and gets between Rhaenys and you.

“You were always a whore!” She screams, her index finger digging into his chest. You let out a sob, quietly. Daemon’s heart feels like it is being wrenched from his chest. At this point, the screams have attracted all the tavern's attention. Daemon doesn’t doubt that by this time tomorrow, the whole island will know.

You will be shunned. Just as he had feared.

“I am talking to you!” Rhaenys insists. You cower behind him. It only makes Rhaenys angrier. “No, not you, you stupid girl. You, Daemon.”

Daemon feels utterly stunned. Never in a million years he would have thought Rhaenys was referring to him.

“Are you calling me a whore?”

He feels the slap before he even sees her move. His head gets forcefully turned to the side, and he hears you whimper. His cheek stings. Daemon has to blink back tears, Rhaenys has hit him that hard.

He wasn’t even aware that a woman could land such a blow.

“You dare! You toyed with my daughter and this girl as you saw fit.” And Daemon cannot even get a word in because she is too angry. He feels his cheeks reddening, and its unsure if he is feeling embarrassment at being scolded like a child, or rage at her words. “But worry not. I will make this right.”

Rhaenys has a manic gleam in her eyes. For a frightening second, Daemon thinks he sees in her the famous Targaryen madness.

Instead of setting you both on fire, she lunges, avoiding Daemon, and grabbing you hands in hers.

“I shall not allow you to make the same mistake your mother did.” Rhaenys says, and she is gone before Daemon can answer anything.

THIS IS YOUR greatest triumph. Why, then, does it taste like ashes on your tongue?

You are wearing the finest dress you have ever owned, gifted to you by Daemon. Princess Rhaenys has forced both him and your father into complacency, and even forced King Viserys to allow your betrothal. Still, you feel adrift. Even betrayed.

What Daemon had done to you had seemed purposeful. You had not realized when he had stolen the kiss from you, giving you your first taste of fine wine, but you understood it now. Had Princess Rhaenys not been there, or had she been any less merciful, a much different fate would have awaited you.

The stink of shame that followed you around, the whispers of dishonor and the looks of distaste, would have been even more intense. You would have been ruined, known as little more than a whore. And your family no longer had the money that had shielded your mother during her pregnancies.

You had not known it. But Daemon must have. He had a reputation for taking maidenheads as he saw fit, Addam had informed you. You were a fool for not knowing, and a fool for believing he wanted something else from you.

The royal decree is read by a Maester, in front of all the Lords of near castles, the smallfolk of Driftmark and the Velaryons. Even in the first beautiful dress you own, you feel small. Out of place. The looks your half siblings are shooting you do not help you feel better.

Once the bill is read, Lord Corlys steps forward.

“Daughter.” He says, grasping your hands in his. He is cold. He is cold, and it makes your skin crawl, even when it is all you wanted as a little girl. It’s the first time he acknowledges you, and he is not at all like the man you imagined, when dreaming as a child of what it would be like for him to look at you. Because even a glance would have been enough back then. “It’s a pleasure to finally have you join the family.”

Addam and Allyn are still in the crowd, unacknowledged. They are your family, not this man who is grasping your hands with a calculating gleam in his eyes. Wondering, as all highborn do, how he might use you. How you might serve to further his own ends.

Your brothers could not be recognized as you were. You had shyly asked Princess Rhaenys, and if she thought you dimwitted before, she had probably confirmed her suspicions. They were men, she had explained, and a threat to Laenor’s rights once your father passed. You, instead, were nothing but a girl who had sullied herself, whose honor had been compromised so thoroughly you had turned even less important in the great scheme of things.

She was helping you because you had been taken advantage of by Daemon, Princess Rhaenys had said, but also to spare her daughter from your fate. Wife to a husband that would most likely betray you and sire bastards.

Lord Corlys was just happy to have another pawn to marry off and forge alliances. Freeing his daughter from a disloyal husband was an added bonus.

Every time you heard them, your hands turned into fist, and you could barely fight the rage from clouding your expression. You had not done the thing everyone was accusing you of, and yet were being judged for it all the same. Daemon, too, did nothing to correct them. Not even when the most scandalous rumors surfaced, saying you would wed him with a child already in your belly.

You had not let him touch you like that. You were not as stupid as everyone thought. As a daughter to a single mother, you knew all about scorn and loneliness. You would never doom a child to your same fate.

The day doesn’t pick up from there. The feast to follow feels just as empty, and you turn down an insincere offer from your father to be housed here. You cannot wait to run back to your brothers.

It would be impolite to leave so soon, though. Lord Corlys has thrown this feast in your honor and is making the lords and members of his household present you with gifts. You admit it is a clever strategy, to avoid having to spend money in your trousseau. Hence, you need to stay a little bit longer.

You get handed new quills and parchments, alongside a new seal for your correspondence by Laena.

“I figured you wouldn’t have one of these.” Her smile is strained as she reaches for your hands. “Since you weren’t raised the proper way.” It says a lot about the company you are in that it is the most polite greeting you receive all afternoon.

When it all begins to become a bit much, and your eyes are stinging after a lady said you had no grace and no manners, you decide you need to run. But when you are stepping a foot outside the hall, Daemon appears by your side.

“Rather improper, isn’t it?” He asks, grabbing your hand in his. You try to jerk away, but he merely interlaces your fingers together. “A lady cannot quite run around unescorted as you used to.”

“Leave me alone, Daemon.” You say, still trying to free yourself. The last thing you want today is to deal with him.

“I do not think I will.” Daemon cups your cheek in his hand, hands gentle despite the calluses on them. It was one of the things you had first liked about him. His hands were artisan’s hands, like the ones of your brothers, despite being highborn. He had seemed so different from the rest of the men you knew, back then. “Not when my betrothed is nearly weeping in her own feast.”

“You heard all those people. I do not belong here.” You look up at him, fighting your tears. You feel like such a whiny child. What happened to you is something that only happens in fairytales, it's the stuff songs are written about. No bastard girl gets acknowledged by her father and marries a Prince.

“Who cares what those cunts think?” Daemon scoffs. “You are above them. You always were.”

You bloom under his praise. There is no other word for it. It warms you, from head to toe, and your stomach fills with butterflies. A small smile forms, even through the tears that threaten to fall.

“There she is.” Daemon brushes his thumb over your cheek. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. There is nothing you would like more.

“I never wanted to be a Lady.” You lower your eyes, embarrassed at the admission. You feel ungrateful for saying it, but it’s the truth. You had never imagined a home away from your siblings. The marriage will mean you will be taken away from them, and only see them if Daemon feels like it.

You do not own a dragon, after all. And you aren’t too sure Allyn and him will be the best good brothers.

He grabs you by the waist and gives a little tug.

“Be mine instead.” Daemon whispers, and when you nod, he kisses your forehead.

MARRYING YOU HAD never been in his plans. Yet, when he saw you walk down the aisle, dressed in Velaryon blue and looking awkward, Daemon was sure you were the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You were not a lady or a princess, yet you and him were alike. Birds of the same feather. For the first time, Daemon could say there was someone who understood him.

Daemon had never been poor, nor had he been born a bastard, but he too, had lost his parents while young. He, too, was considered too wild by his brother. And he knew all about of trying to fulfill an impossible task while honoring the legacy of his ancestors.

Laena was a mere child by your side. Her innocence and Valyrian looks had appealed to him once, but after meeting you, Daemon knew no other woman could compare. There was an edge to you, beneath all the innocence and beauty. A fire that burned bright in your belly, and could not be quenched. An anger that both amazed him and scared him, and drew him in like a moth to a flame.

You would have been great if you had been born into his house. Great but terrible.

Or perhaps you wouldn’t have. Perhaps, if you had grown acknowledged by your father, you would have not been the lost little girl who dreamed of recognition and slept lulled by the sea. You wouldn’t have grown into the woman who got the recognition and understood she did not need it at all.

A shame that recognition had come at a price so steep. Recognition in exchange for rumors of dishonor, whispers of the shame of your existence and the shame you had brought on yourself. These cunts did not see you for what you were. Not some malicious creature, some silver tongued temptress. No. You were determined and fierce, brave and true. You honored your house’s words. Your ancestors would have been proud.

Yes, Daemon decided. He would marry you and take you away from here, from this horrible little island where people behaved like they were above you. The cunts should be honored that you were even looking their way.

The distance might even help those stubborn brothers of yours to forget all about the way Daemon had become part of their family. When the grudge was forgotten, he would bring you back, less the eldest skewered him alive.

Not because Daemon feared Allyn. Of course not. But because killing him would be such a nuisance, and you would cry, and… Ugh. He couldn’t stand to see you cry.

You were about to burst into tears right now. He could tell. Daemon grabbed your hands in his, uncaring he was breaking protocol, and pressed his forehead against yours.

“We can still marry on the beach, with only Caraxes as witness.” He whispers, gently. “Hells, I would prefer it. We can run still. The Septon has not spoken.”

You laugh, a bit watery.

“Addam and Allyn would drop dead, thinking we will not be wed.”

“Allyn looks like he would attempt murder.”

“Attempt?”

“I doubt he would succeed.”

“I would protect you.” You say, and it warms something inside Daemon he wasn’t even aware that he had. “If only because killing a Prince is a crime worthy of the ax, and I wish to have nephews.”

Daemon's mouth opens and closes.

“You little..!”

You laugh, but before he can lunge and throw you over his shoulder, the Septon clears his throat.

“If the two of you are done..?”

“Just get to the part where you handfast us.” Daemon says, giving him his best lecherous expression. “I have many things I wish to show my new bride.”

And there were. He had taken many of your firsts already, he wasn’t about to stop now.

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fire-gift · 4 months ago

Text

carolcutshall: The bodice of Lestat’s King Raj costume was a custom men’s corset

Melanie’s masterpiece @/laceembrace

Check out her post on this meticulous piece

I was inspired by men’s corsets, Victorian fan lacing, straight jackets and institutional restraints

Our fabric came from Artee Fabrics and Home and Promenade Fine Fabrics @/promenadefabrics

So many images and thoughts exchanged that led us to this finished product. It needed to have both masculine and feminine energy. Lestat was everything to everyone.

#interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #sam reid #carol cutshall #iwtv bts #iwtv costume design #x #1x07

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thegreatestsandwich · 2 years ago

Note

hi! I noticed you were looking for Xavier requests. I come with some ideas instead! (a) jealous or overprotective Xavier

(b) reader gets hurt either by the Hyde or somewhere in the fight at the end of the season

and that’s all my little pea brain can think of! Hope this helped you bc we need more Xavier fics!

Look at this forsaken mess you made me (Xavier Thorpe x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x f!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Xavier has five moods when it comes to you, happy, in love, jealous, overprotective and worried...It really is an interesting combination

Warning: fluffiness and Xavier is my baby, deal with it, you will have a lot of him coming up soon

A/N: It took me YEARS to be able to learn how to write jealous :D

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

It wasn’t supposed to happened like that. You were supposed to be away this weekend. Jesus, your parents even made the trip to get you, he was there, he helped you and even cried a little when you waved him goodbye from the back window of your dad’s car.

Today, of all of the days…

Why were you here?

Xavier couldn’t think as he grabbed your face and force you to look at him, he didn’t know if he was screaming, maybe he was, his chest felt tight, like a force was forcing his breaths out of his body and you didn’t killed him, he didn't felt bad or at the edge from death for touching you, something was wrong. His hands were red and he painted your face with that color, that color wasn’t supposed to be on your face, on your body. You don’t look good in red.

“Look at me.” He force himself to speak. But there you were, staring at him blinking slowly. “Don’t you dare looking away, you hear me?”

Someone tried to pull him away from you but he didn’t let them, he would not let you go.

“Listen to me,” He cradled your body in his arms. “You listen to me, you hear me? Don’t you dare to close your eyes (Y/N).”

Your name in his mouth sounded so dirty, like it didn’t belong there. Arms surrounded his shoulders and managed to get him away from you, he began screaming and trashing, trying to get himself free and return to your side. He could see you being pulled on a gurney.

“Don’t touch her!” He screamed. “Stop!”

“Pull yourself together man.” Ajax hold him tight. “They’re taking her to the hospital, you’ll see her there.”

Xavier breathed heavily as he watched the -now clear- ambulance drive away. He nodded wordlessly and Ajax helped him get up.

“C’mon, if we go now the faster you’ll see them again.”

Xavier pushed the hospital’s door opened, crashing against the reception’s counter. “(Y/N) (L/N) was brought here minutes ago, is she alright? Can I go see her?” He spoke quickly.

The recepcionist stared boringly at him before slowly typing your name on her computer. She popped her gum ball before speaking. “What’s your relationship with her?”

Xavier bit her cheek, breathing heavily. “I’m her boyfriend.”

She hummed, watching how a group of teenagers stand next to him, she frowned before realizing where they came from. “Sorry sweetheart but only immediate family can ask about her.”

He huffed, he was getting angrier. “Look, I need to see her.”

“Yeah, but can’t do anything to help you, maybe you should all sit there like good kids and wait for your parents, okey?”

Xavier was about to strangle the lady when Wednesday carefully put a hand on his arm, moving him to de side as she stared at the receptionist. “We want to know how she is doing.”

The receptionist stared at Wednesday, “As I said to your friend, only immediate family can ask about her, kid.”

“Wait for me in the cafeteria.” Wednesday’s eyes didn’t left the receptionist as she told the others. Her eyes slowly drifted downwards to her name tag. “Carol and I will come to an agreement, isn’t that right Carol?”

Xavier couldn’t stop moving, he needed to do it, his stress was making him nervous and no matter how hard Enid or Ajax tried to calm him down but it wasn’t helpful. Footsteps made him turn to the cafeteria’s door and he saw Wednesday entering calmly, he quickly walked to her.

“How’s she?!” He exclaimed.

Wednesday stared at him before giving him a paper. “Room 204, take the elevator and turn right.” Xavier stared at her, taking the paper before nodding and running to the elevator.

The number 204 stared at him, but he froze, endless questions began appearing on his head, but he entered anyway. You were lying on the bed completely frozen, several tubes were surrounded you and he almost cried at the image. He made his way to you and almost grabbed your hand but saw that you weren’t wearing gloves.

He quickly took off a pair of them (the same pair he bought after your day at the fair) and put them on, grabbing your hand, he kissed his own hand, imagining kissing yours. “You need to wake up (Y/N), you hear me?” He whispered. “I can’t…I can’t do this without you.”

Xavier didn’t know how long he was sleep, it was uncomfortable, yes. But when the tiny movement of sheets woke him up. He blinked for a moment before your hand carefully grabbing his. “Thank God.” He grasped it tightly. Closing his eyes as tears began forming. “Thank God you’re okey.”

“What…?” You rasped, trying to sit but hissing when the pain caught your body.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He gently pushed you back to the bed. “It’s okey, I’ll explain everything, I swear.”

A knock startled him and he quickly glanced at the door, he was preparing to fight whoever force him to leave. It opened and Wednesday made her way inside, she couldn’t look at you.

“Hey.” You gently greeted her and Xavier gave her a nod.

“Hey.” She responded, “Thank you for coming to help.” She whispered.

You smiled, “We’re friends, aren’t we?” You squeezed Xavier’s hand. “I’m happy I could help.”

Wednesday nodded, “The others are downstairs, they want to come up but if you want a few more minutes of your own, I don’t mind holding them out.”

“Please.” Xavier said, “An hour if you can.” Wednesday nodded before leaving, not before looking at you once again. “She asked you to come back?”

You nodded, “Enid send me a text that Wednesday needed help.”

Xavier closed his eyes, finally feeling al the stress going out. “Are you mad?!” He pushed away from you, began pacing. “Do you have any idea what you did?!”

“I help?” You were confused.

“You almost die! You were bleeding, you understand? I held you on my arms and you almost died!”

“Xavier…”

“No! No.” He tugged at his hair. “You can’t do this, you hear me?”

“Xavier…” You tried again.

“I can’t…I can’t…” He turned, not daring to look at you. “I can’t (Y/N), I can’t.”

“Xavier.” You exclaimed, managing to catch his attention, he was tearing up. You raised your hand and he quickly grabbed it. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t go through that again (Y/N), I can’t lose you.”

#xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe blurb #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thrope fanfic #xavier thrope imagine #xavier thrope x you #xavier thrope fluff #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe angst #wednesday adams imagine #wednesday adams fic #wednesday netflix

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misguidedasgardian · 4 months ago

Text

Wildcats (Part XVII)

XVII. Home

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your “tried”, and in doing so, you had come oblivious to the danger from within

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, mentions of domestic violence, a fist fight, imprisonment, talks about slitting throats, kissing, longing, angst, fluff, might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: ALRIGHTTTT!!! these dorks are finally… “a punta de caramelo” JAJAJA ready to party, I think, enough build up… Alright…the timing in this chapter might be a little flimsy, but what’s important are those dorks so… let’s do this!

You waved Daryl and Aaron goodbye as they went through the gates and out of Alexandria, you wanted to be optimistic, but still, you still felt a bit sad that Daryl had left you here, you didn’t even trip once! Has it been so bad for him? you had such a good time. It had been a lovely day. But still, he had been right about the run the day before, so, if he said it, he must have a reason.

The dead had been buried, and even though your family had taken a big hit, you needed to keep going, this is what the new world looked like, you mourn your dead by keeping living, and that is how you needed to proceed.

Real or not you had a mission now that Rick had put on you, search for an alternative, a plan B, some houses to go to if Alexandria goes poorly.

Your meetings with Reg about “development” had been canceled indefinitely, of course, he was mourning his son, so now that Daryl was gone you had to keep your hands busy.

You had become comfortable in the days you had been here, and today, you were determined, you went to see a person that was going to help you get the skills that you needed to become stronger to approach the new mission.

“Espinoza”, you called with a wide smile on your face, she was already smiling when she turned, you found her by the trucks that needed fixing.

“... I just realized I don’t know your last name”, she said with a frown

“Well, it’s very native, ANYWAYS”, you said with a wide smile, “I wanted to ask you something…”

“Tell me”, she said

“Well… I can’t think of anyone better to help me improve my upper body strength”, you said softly, “I’m fairly good with guns, and my ax, but the other day back in Atlanta I could barely keep out a walker who fell on top of me, and neither the second one when he fell in top of the other…”

“Say less”, she said with a big smile, “I need to practice some new skills as well”

“You’ll help me? I want to be able to fight too, people, you know? fists”

“It’ll be fun”, she said with a soft smile.

You bit the dust like twenty times in the morning, until Carol managed to scrap you off the floor and into the house for a quick lunch, and then you spend the whole afternoon helping Rosita fix cars. Or at least those who didn’t have computers, those where your favorites to try and fix.

“So this, can be easily fix with a simple wielding, don’t let the shape fool you”, she said as you held up the broken hood of the car for her

“I always though radiators where a pain in the ass”, you said

“They are, they are easy to break, but easy to fix”, she said with a soft smile

“Great, you know what I was thinking? to install a good thick bumper in front of that truck… so we can run over walkers more easily”

“You know? i was thinking the same thing, but I’m worried about the weight, we would need to make sure to weld it good to the…”, the sounds of what must have been a window breaking interrupted you, followed by the sounds of screams and yelling. You both started running towards the commotion just in time to see Rick punching Jesse’s husband into the road.

“STOP IT PLEASE!”, screamed Jesse, trying to separate them as her husband was the one choking Rick into the grounds, but he pushed her away, making her fall. You ran towards her and helped her up and away from the fighting men.

“Dad! stop!”, Rick had the upper hand now and now it was Carl being pushed. Who was grabbed by Rosita.

“RICK!”, you called angrily, but he didn’t hear you, but he did hear Deanna as she came angrily.

“STOP IT RIGHT NOW!”, you hugged onto Jesse softly, as she grabbed onto you. She was crying, and in distress, you didn’t understand what’s going on, but you could take a pretty good guess.

“Hey, hey, everything will be fine”, you said softly, she barely nodded, “we are here for you, you’re gonna be fine”, you echoed

“You touch them again and I will kill you”, Rick threatened Pete, that’s his name. Jesse whimpered behind you

“Damn it, Rick! I said stop!”, demanded Deanna, only then Rick stopped pounding into that sorry bastard

“Or what? You gonna kick me out?”, he asked, there they were, those crazy eyes again. It was odd, Rick was wearing the constable uniform, his beard was trimmed and his hair combed back, but, his eyes, it was the same as that night, with the claimers. You didn’t even notice he had pulled out a gun until everybody gasped and stood back, at least, the Alexandrians did. You were so used to it by now it scared you.

“Put that gun down, Rick”, said Deanna, her hands in the air trying to calm him down.

A million thoughts ran through your mind, where did he get the gun? why?

“You still don't get it. None of you do!”, he said, waving the gun aimlessly, “We know what needs to be done and we do it. We're the ones who live. You, you just sit and plan and hesitate. You pretend like you know when you don't. You wish things weren't what they are. Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Your way of doing things is done. Things don't get better because you… you want them to. Starting right now, we have to live in the real world. We have to control who lives here”, his speech told you this was coming for a while, it made you tremble in your spot, you looked over at Rosita as she was as impressed as you, telling you she didn't know anything either.

“That's never been more clear to me than it is right now”, sentenced Deanna, uf, you better rush that search for a home, soon.

“Me? Me? You…”, he chuckled in a way that it was so dark it made you tremble, “You mean me? Your way is gonna destroy this place”, he said, his face was bloodied, so were his knuckles, “It's gonna get people killed! It's already gotten people killed! And I'm not gonna stand by…”, you didn’t even see her coming, Michonne had clocked him so hard in the back of the head that Rick collapsed into the ground.

An awkward silence befell all of those who were watching, Abraham came out of nowhere as you could only look at Rick, as your dreams collapsed around you.

“Please, place him in the basement of the apartments”, said Deanna gently, “until he can cool down, take the gun…”, she started giving directions while you could only follow Abraham and Michonne who had grabbed Rick and were taking him to the place directed by Deanna, also, Rosita and Carl followed you.

As you walked, you catched a glimpse of all those scared faces staring at you, at your group, like you were the worst criminals they had seen.

It was done, here it was, the crash, the collapse.

They were never gonna let you all stay, or worse, they were going to make you spell Rick

And if he was expelled, you were going to go with him.

Abraham left him in a small room, and Rosita brought things to patch him up, as she did while he was still unconscious.

Glenn came running

“Maggie will calm Deanna down”, he said softly, you looked at him with a frown.

“Does anybody know what is going on?”, you asked angrily, looking around the room, but nobody said anything

“This took me by surprise as well”, said Michonne

“What happened with that guy?”, Carol appeared in that second, looking angrily at everybody. “If all of us are here, it's going to look like we are cahooting”, you said

“Nobody saw me coming”, she said, “Pete had been abusing Jesse, and the children, I told Rick yesterday”, there was an awful silence.

“And where did he get the gun?”, you asked her, she shook her head

“I don’t know”

“...Nobody was doing anything?”, asked Glenn, “About Jesse and Pete?”

“No, he is a doctor”, Carol said, with a dark tone in her voice. You sighed, rubbing your face. Eventually, you all went away, leaving only Carl and Michonne with Rick.

Rick had taken his role seriously, he had beat up a guy who was beating his wife, and probably the children, the bastard deserved it, the tricky part was now…

The fucking gun.

You passed by the house where the armory was, and now, two Alexandrians stood by the door, one of them was Tobin, one of their toughest guys.

Well… shit.

You needed to think, so, you went to keep an eye on Tara, the calming environment of the infirmary was just what you needed right now. The night already falling over Alexandria.

. . .

He was so thankful he didn’t bring you along this time.

First, Aaron and him found a woman all torn out, tied to a tree, and an unknown man dismembered on the ground next to it. It was a horrific sight and even though you had probably seen worse, this was best.

They had to spend the night out there, in the car. They preferred it so, because they had advanced a lot, and at night, they had seen the man with the red poncho, and had better chances of finding him if he lit a fire again.

But the next day, they keep following the trail, and they had found something that look promising

But now? He was going to die, most likely.

He took a long drag of the cigarette he found, as he watched those ugly, decomposing faces, scratching the glass, trying to get to them.

It had been an obvious setup, (now that he thought about it), and now he was trapped in a car with Aaron, surrounded by walkers, and to get matters worse, an unknown group of deranged maniacs were coming his way, most likely, those who had been carving people, and their foreheads with a W

He was going to be the one to try to fight it off, as he looked at Aaron from the corner of his eye, Aaron was a good person, he had taken them to Alexandria, he had a husband, a home, he was a decent man, he deserved to be the one to live, Daryl was here to protect him.

But as he took another drag, he thought about his family.

Rick, Carol, Carl, baby Judith…

He thought of you.

Of your face, of your smile, of your arms around him yesterday when he took you for a ride, about the excitement he felt when he heard your voice whispering in his ear, about yours cent wrapped around him, he thought about how badly he wanted to be around you, with you… he thought about how much he wanted to kiss you, to hold you, and now… with how things were looking…

He was never going to get to.

He was proven to be right, in not taking you here, if you would have been here, things maybe could be worse, you could have been attacked, bitten or worse.

It was better this way.

Now he was never gonna know what it would be like, to be with you, to hold you in his arms, to kiss you. He liked you, and he just had come to realize it.

He looked down

“I’ll go, I’ll distract them while you make a run f’it”, he mumbled, “just let me finish my smoke first”

Maybe he could make it. He promised you he was going to come back to you, he promised, perhaps with one arm less, but he was gonna make it, he had to. He had to tell you.

Would you still want him with only one arm? hell, did you want him at all?

He had to find out.

He felt silly, thinking those things in a time like this, what did you do to him?

“No”, said Aaron, looking at him decisively, “this was nobody’s fault, we’ll do it together”, he nodded, Aaron wanted to get home as bad as he did, and they were gonna do it together.

And then, one of the walker’s heads was crushed by what looked like a wooden stick.

. . .

The very next morning, you woke up a bit startled, with everything that happened with Rick, you had forgotten about the archer. You ran downstairs, only to find Maggie making breakfast

“Hey, good morning”, she smiled at you softly

“Good morning”, you whispered, “Is Daryl back?”, she looked at you with a glint in her eye

“He didn’t”, she said, “but he and Aaron reported they were going to stay out there one night, so don’t you worry”, she said softly.

“Alright”, you said, but the fact that they gave notice, didn’t soothe your nerves.

“He is going to be fine”, she said softly, “but we need to focus on keeping the place they are going to return to”, she said, and you nodded

“I’ll go see Rick”, you whispered

“I will go and talk to Deanna”, she said, and exited the house.

You walked quickly, you needed to figure this out and the only one who could answer all your questions was Rick.

entered the room where Rick was, with Glenn, Carol, and Abraham, you needed answers, you needed to know what was going on. SOme of them acknowledge you, not all of them, but Abraham closed the door behind you

“Where’d you get the gun?”, asked Michonne

“You took it, right? From the armory? That was stupid. Why did you do it?”, grilled Carol, Rick’s face said it all, so you looked at the gray haired woman with suspicion, she was in on it, you realized as you looked back at Rick wide-eyed.

“Just in case”, said Rick, not taking his eyes off of Carol, but then he looked at you, and he seemed surprised to see your angry face.

“Deanna's planning to have a meeting tonight. For anyone who wants to…”, started Glenn

“To kick Rick out?”, asked Abraham, you didn’t say a thing you just looked around.

“To try”, said Carol

“We don't know that”, you said, finally

“Maggie's with Deanna right now. She's gonna find out what it is”, assured Glenn

“At the meeting, you say you were worried about someone being abused and no one was doing anything about it. You say you took a gun just to be sure that Jessie was safe from a man who wound up attacking you. You say you'll do whatever you want them to. Just tell them a story that they want to hear. It's what I've been doing since I got here”, said Carol, and you chuckled, you knew she was lying front the second she stepped through those gates.

“Why?”, asked Glenn

“Because these people are children and children like stories”, she said

“What happens after all the nice words and they still try to kick him out? They're guarding the armory now”, muttered Glenn, as you thought he was the one who was taking the same side as you, the concerned side

“We still have knives. That's all we'll need against them”, said Carol

“Well, tonight at the meeting, if it looks like it's going bad, I whistle. Carol grabs Deanna, I take Spencer, you grab Reg, Glenn and Abraham cover us, watch the crowd”, muttered Rick, and then his eyes landed on you.

“This is “trying” for you Rick?”, you asked him angrily

“We can talk to them”, said Michonne, “there is no need…”

“Yeah, we will. If we can't get through, we take the three of them and say we'll slit their throats”, said Rick as it would have been easy, “we did try, (y/n)” he said gently, “we tried, but this people don’t understand how things are now”

“Like at Terminus?”, asked Glenn, “where’re gonna slit their throats like they’re cattle?”

“No, we just tell 'em. They give us the armory and it's over”, said RIck, like he had everything figured out

“Did you want this?”, you asked him, “just making us try our best just in case so you didn’t feel bad about this?”, Abraham placed his hand on your shoulder and then you noticed how riled up you had become, taking a step forward, your voice rising. Anger taking a hold on you.

“No”, said Rick, looking straight at you, “I hit my limit. I-- I screwed up. And here we are”, he said, “I want you to stay here, that mission will have to wait, now, if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna sleep some more”, he said, dismissing the lot of you.

How could you become so short sighted?

As you were trying your ebay and play house, your family was collapsing around you, Rick had crazy eyes, Carol was scheming right along with him, you had lost Noah, and Tara was in the hospital… Sasha was turning into a sniper, she spent all the time in the watchtower, and people had become actually scared of the lot of you, because of your aggressiveness. This was bananas, as Maggie, Abraham and Tyresse had actually reached a position of power in the matters of days.

But that part relieved you, actually, you wanted your people in power, because they knew what they were doing, not because they were gonna threaten to cut people’s throats out.

This was a whole mess

Were they going to expel Rick? were you going to go with him?.

You found a map of the state of Virginia, you opened it in the dining room table, and you began planning.

You could take a good guess where you were, and then there was Washington… you wanted to go to Washington, if they do expel you from here, that was your safer bet, to find a building and spend a couple of days there until you found something more permanent.

The map was pretty detailed, and you noticed groups of buildings near you.

“Is that a factory?”, you whispered, looking at the squared looking buildings in the map, that had been taken by a satellite a couple of years back. you certainly didn’t want to go there. DC was still the safest bet, especially if they evacuated most of the people.

But Rick won’t go

Rick wanted to stay here no matter what, he wanted to take the place.

And even if you weren’t comfortable with that, you were not going to fight it, to fight him, or Michonne or Glenn, or Abraham

Maggie and Glenn were building Rick’s defense, so you had to stay put, and try to stay calm.

It will not come to this, it will not come to that, to slitting people’s throats.

But if it did… Did that make you the bad guys? certainly not better than those psychos from Terminus.

You thought again about Daryl, about what he might think about all of this, was he in on it? It was weird that Rick was planning something and not including him. Was he in on it? You really hoped he wasn’t.

You watched the sunset through the windows, you didn’t even know where the whole day went, you had spent hours and hours over that freaking map, walking around the house, thinking about scenarios and possibilities, and freaking out.

Was Daryl going to spend the entire night out again? Was that alright? On top of everything else, you felt so nervous, he was gone… What was going to happen when he came back? Was he going to go onto the plan of threatening them? You had seen what he could do, he was quick with his crossbow and he was fiercely loyal to Rick.

Whatever it was, you needed to stand by your family, even though you didn’t agree to the plan, you had to see it through and see to it that nobody was going to get hurt.

You needed to go to the thing, what were they calling it? you didn’t remember. But you didn’t move a muscle, not a single one, you were afraid of what is going to become. They were not going to kick him out, the group was not going to allow it, instead they were going to take the place.

The decision had been made.

You were not consulted on it, and yet, you were expected to support it.

But you needed to go, and prevent the hostile takeover, you could, you only needed to be truthful. You were on your way out, when you heard the rumble of a motorcycle outside. You smiled at the thought of the archer. So you got out of the house in a hurry.

“Hey you’re home!”, you said happily when you saw him cross the porch to the house. You were so relieved, not only because you were worried for him, but because of everything that happened with Rick… But he didn’t even mind anything else. He came straight for you, he seemed driven, pushed by invisible motivations.

He encased your face with one of his hands, everything was so fast you barely had time to react, and he leaned in, and trapped your lips with his in a chaste kiss

You smiled into the kiss, grabbing his shirt.

This was happening, this was really happening and you wanted to make it last as much as you could, his hand traveled to the back of your head, to hold you steady.

All your thoughts and worries went away as easily as that. Everything was going to be alright, and he felt heavenly. He felt the same, kissing your lips was the best thing he had felt in a long while. He separated from you, even though he didn’t want to, you didn’t want to. But still, he needed to see your reaction.

“M’sorry”, he whispered against your lips, “I wanted to do that:”

“Took you long enough Dixon”, you said against his, and this time, you grabbed onto his shirt and you pulled him towards you, you kissed him again. This time, it was more intense, you actually heard him whimper against your lips, as you both took a deep breath into each other. Grabbing each other more tightly. You didn’t know how you were ever gonna stop it.

But of course a gunshot rang through the air, making you split up like the other was on fire.

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ddamm · 5 months ago

Text

‘Goodbye’ | What if Y/N died? - Daryl Dixon x reader - TWD imagine fic

(Image found in Pinterest, so, credits to rightful owner)

Warnings: angst definitely, death of a loved one, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, mild Daryl swearing, might cry so have some tissues at hand

Word counts: 1399 words (I think it´s the shortest I´ve done for now)

Era: at least after S3 Prison era, but no era in particular

A/N: Sincerely I'm not sure how or why I came up with this. I made a draft of this after my evening prayer session. I stayed on the ground for like half an hour after singing worship and crying and then this song came to me… and all I could picture was this very sad moment of the death of a loved one, and Daryl… Somehow I always end up crying when I listen to this song. It has something so emotional about it, something that feels like a goodbye… well, enjoy it and try not to cry haha.

Song: Je te laisserai des most - Patrick Watson

(listen during the whole thing over and over again 👍🏿)

Original banner (without the ‘goodbye’ phrase) from @kimjiho1, in this post

Daryl promised himself he would not shed more tears after Merle's death, but how would he not if she was now the one vanishing in his arms?

Y/N was the love of his life and had become his motive to live. But now, because of them, time was ticking for her, and she'd depart for somewhere he couldn't reach. Somewhere, he couldn't follow her.

Daryl cursed beneath his breath, angry at the situation before him and at the helplessness he felt. His face went pale in fright as he scanned the multiple bite and tear marks bleeding out over her torso and body.

“Shit, shit, shit… Huh… Y-ya dun have to worry, angel. I'll take ya to the doc and they'll… they'll fix ya up. We'll find a way,” he said, trying to stay positive and evading the cruel reality.

“Is everyone— safe?” Daryl's throat dried, and he found it difficult to speak, but he replied.

“Ye... Ye, everyone's… safe, thanks to ya,” he nodded his head slowly as he held Y/N close, parting her messy and scattered hair out of your face.

“I'm– sorry, Dar Dar… I'm always– giving you trouble, am I not?” Her breathing was difficult and slow, and this was scaring the man further as he tried to laugh out what she said.

“Ya ain't gotta be sorry 'bout nuthin', angel... C'mon, we gotta fix yer mess before ya start stinkin' like a skunk.” Daryl tried picking her up from the dusty ground, but she couldn't even feel your legs anymore.

He halted his actions when he felt her grasp on his shirt. Her trembling, blood-stained hand was holding onto him with the few strengths she had left. “I can't… this is it, Daryl,” she said, knowing it was too late for her, but he hushed her words.

“Dun say that. Yer gonna be jus' fine,” he insisted, wishing to remain in his delusion.

“Daryl, please... Take care of Allie...” she had solicited as her last wish.

“I can't.” “Yes, you can; I know you can.” “Y'all can do tha' when ya recover.” He kept bickering. “Dary, you're not liste—” “She's gonna need her mama, I ain't no good with 'em kids; she'll—”

“DARYL DIXON!” She exclaimed, making the man at her side hush.

“It has to be you. You're the—cough, cough, cough.” She spluttered blood over her chin, staining Daryl's face too. But he could only care about her, and with all the care in the world, he wiped her stained face for her.

Once she stabilised her breathing, she resumed. “You're the only one. The only one I can trust this to.” Daryl shook his head, going against her statement. “I-I can't... I wun be able to do tha' stuff on ma own... Being a parent, tha' stuff ain't somethin' someone fucked up like me can do.” His hands trembled in hers while he explained his twisted reasoning on why he wasn't the right person to fulfil her last request, taking care of her baby.

“Daryl, you won't be alone... You've got Rick, Michonne, Carol—” “Ain't the same damn thing,” he replied with a stern, upset voice.

Just a few weeks ago, you successfully gave birth to your precious daughter, Alison, and now, you were vanishing in his arms? Daryl couldn't accept it.

“Yer... different. Different from 'em, different from all, dammit,” he cursed under his breath, frustrated about not being able to word out how he felt about her.

“Yer... ma damn reason to survive! I can't— I can't do nothin' without ya. She needs ya here; she needs her mama. What in tarnation am I gonna tell her when she's old enough to bother my ass with questions 'bout her old hag?” He questioned her with a hint of dread. “You tell her the truth.” “That I let her mama get killed 'cause I was dilly-dallyin' too dang long?” he pressed on a little aggressively.

“Daryl.” She called his name with a serious stare, not liking that he was already blaming himself, but her gaze softened when she saw the look on his face. “I've lost too much stuff, too many folks... I can't lose ya too; I... I need ya, Y/N...”

She quieted down for a while as thoughts invaded her mind, and Y/N felt bad for passing on her role, her responsibility to Daryl as a burden on his shoulders.

He always took care of her (in his own Dixon way). Back in the quarry camp, Daryl had defended her and her late husband many times (more like her) when Shane and Carol's husband crossed the line. She still remembers how his arrow saved her, just in time, from getting bitten by a walker the night before they left.

She remembered how he had comforted her (tried) after the CDC Lab incident and even when they discovered what happened to Sofia. He was the most upset about that, yet he still came to apologise to her too for not trying well enough, because he knew Sofia and she had a great relationship (just like you and Carol).

Now that she thought of it, the number of times Daryl silently protected, shielded, or cared for her without her full acknowledgement was overwhelming. He had constantly been there for her for so long, always stepping in to save or defend her, even before her husband turned. He became twice as protective of her when he learned there was a new life growing inside her.

All that evidence... Yet she continued to deny any attraction to the lone archer, even if deep down she knew exactly what she felt. Her late husband was long lost and gone, but why could she never seem to leave the sense of guilt away? Why did she feel it was wrong to correspond to Daryl's ways of affection?

If she could have, she would have sighed, pitting herself and her way of disrespecting him and his feelings. But nothing can be done now.

“I know you are afraid... Afraid of parenting alone... Afraid of hurting her... But Daryl, that girl adores you already... Even just as a baby, you're the only person she doesn't cry with besides me. The only one I could leave her with when I needed to rest.”

Y/N stretched her weakened hand to meet his cheek, gently caressing his skin, and he placed his on top of hers as his tears and sniffs became more prominent.

“I'm sorry, I can't stay... I have to rest forever now,” she chuckled, trying to ease him, but seeing her faking strength only hurt him more. “You are awesome, Daryl. The fact that you always took care of me proves it. And she knows that you cared for her mama and that you'll do the same for her. That's why she smiles the most when you're around.”

His sobs became more audible. Your words of support and cheering burned in his skin like fire on a wood chunk. And he looked away in shame, not wanting your last vision of him to be his pathetic sadness, proof of his inner weakness.

“Can you, please, care for her while I'm gone?” She asked him one last time. Despite his sorrow, he nodded in silence, granting her peace of mind, as she knew she didn't have to worry no more.

“Thank you, Dar Dar...” “No need for tha', angel.” She assented, agreeing with his comment. She sought his gaze, wishing to speak her mind but found herself troubled, struggling to find the right terms and considering twice whether to fully express them before she eventually resolved to say her final words to him.

“Oh, and Daryl?” He hummed, asking what she wanted. “I love you,” she professed. And that was his breaking point.

His heart was filled with regret for not being there in time, for not staying by her side, for not being truthful with his feelings and telling her how much she meant to him whenever he could...

“I... I love ya too, Y/N,” he replied, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

A final smile came to her lips as her eyes closed and her hand dropped to her side, signifying the end.

Daryl held her body against his, weeping the death of his beloved, as the third time someone he cared for died in his presence, without him being able to stop it.

“Goodbye, angel...”

star divider found in @anitalenia pink dividers post

A/N: So, here comes this that I had been planning for some time but never found enough time to finish (my laptop wasn't cooperating). I don't really have much to say about it but I think I don't like it as much. Maybe I need to re-listen to the song to see if I feel the same way as when I wrote down the idea but idk, it doesn't look good (not satisfied with the ending).

But anws, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

Take care and God bless!~

𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

support divider from @cafekitsune, in this post

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