#oh another personal anecdote
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#oh another personal anecdote#i have been subbing at my other job for our voice teachers private lessons while shes on maternity leave#i was originally worried that her students wouldnt like me as much#i am now worried that her students might like me more than her#namely because two have outright told me as much (in kinder words)#and two more have implied that i give more helpful answers than the normal teacher#not only do i not want to take these classes from her because this is her whole thing there#but i cannot because i have my own job there thats gonna kick into high gear next semester#and shes so sweet i dont want her to feel bad so i think im gonna have to word my notes carefully to try to get all this across#without making it seem like two of them definitely want to switch to me teaching them#but im worried that theyre gonna be disappointed having to switch back to her#so idk what the hell im gonna do lmao#i could theoretically take the two that i think would want to switch but that would probably be it and even that would be pushing it
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Moments of Glory
Oscar Piastri x Brown!Reader
Summary: notoriously calm and collected Oscar meets his match in the outgoing and extroverted daughter of his boss
Note: this is not the maiden win any of us wanted for Oscar but that doesn’t make it any less deserved — McLaren’s ability to jumble strategy should not take away from his amazing drive
The McLaren Technology Centre hums with energy as Oscar steps through the sliding glass doors, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s his first visit since signing with the team, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on him. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.
As he walks further into the lobby, a burst of laughter catches his attention. Oscar turns to see a group of people gathered near the reception desk, centered around a vivacious young woman with a contagious smile. Your presence seems to light up the entire room.
“And then I told him, ‘Dad, if you don’t make some cuter merch, I’m going to have to support a different team!’” You exclaim, causing another round of laughter from the group.
Oscar finds himself drawn towards the commotion, his feet moving of their own accord. As he approaches, you notice him and your eyes lock. For a moment, the world seems to stand still.
“Well, hello there, stranger!” You call out, breaking the spell. “You must be our new golden boy. I’m Y/N Brown, resident troublemaker and daughter of the big boss.”
Oscar feels his cheeks flush as he stammers, “H-Hi, I’m Oscar. Oscar Piastri.”
You grin, stepping closer. “I know who you are, silly. I’ve been watching your career for years. Welcome to the family!”
Before Oscar can respond, you’ve wrapped him in a warm hug. He stiffens for a moment, unused to such casual physical contact, but then relaxes into the embrace.
As you pull away, you wink at him. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
Oscar’s eyes widen, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “I, uh ... I don’t ...”
You laugh, patting his shoulder. “Relax, I’m just teasing. Come on, let me show you around. I bet I know this place better than any of the official tour guides.”
As you lead Oscar through the facility, he finds himself captivated by your energy and enthusiasm. You point out various areas of interest, peppering your tour with amusing anecdotes and insider information.
“And this,” you say, gesturing dramatically to a seemingly ordinary hallway, “is where Lando once tried to skateboard down the stairs. Spoiler alert: it didn’t end well.”
Oscar chuckles, finding himself more at ease. “I can’t imagine that went over well with management.”
You lean in conspiratorially. “Oh, Dad was furious. But between you and me, I think he was more upset that Lando didn’t invite him to join in.”
As you continue the tour, Oscar finds himself opening up more. “So, how long have you been involved with McLaren?” He asks.
You grin, twirling around to face him as you walk backward. “Oh, pretty much since Dad got hired to run it back in 2016. But I’ve been working here officially for about two years now, in PR and social media.”
Oscar nods, impressed. “That must be exciting, being so close to the action.”
“It has its moments,” you agree. “But enough about me. Tell me, Oscar Piastri, what makes you tick? What drives you to risk life and limb hurtling around tracks at breakneck speeds?”
Oscar pauses, considering his words carefully. “I guess ... it’s the thrill of pushing myself to the limit. The constant challenge of improving, of finding that extra tenth of a second. And the teamwork aspect, knowing that every person plays a crucial role in our success.”
You smile softly, a hint of admiration in your eyes. “That’s beautiful, Oscar. I can see why Dad was so keen on signing you.”
As you reach the simulator room, Oscar’s eyes light up with excitement. You can’t help but chuckle at his reaction.
“Want to give it a go?” You ask, gesturing towards the state-of-the-art equipment.
Oscar nods eagerly. “Can I? I mean, I don’t want to overstep ...”
You wave off his concerns. “Please, you’re part of the team now. Besides, I want to see what you can do.”
As Oscar settles into the simulator, you lean against the doorframe, watching him with interest. He takes a deep breath, centering himself before starting the virtual lap.
You observe silently, impressed by his focus and skill. As he completes the lap, you let out a low whistle. “Not bad, Piastri. Not bad at all.”
Oscar grins, a hint of pride in his expression. “Thanks. It feels good to get a feel for the car, even if it’s just a simulation.”
You step closer, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Want to make it interesting? I bet I can beat your time.”
Oscar raises an eyebrow, a hint of competitiveness creeping into his voice. “Oh really? You’re on.”
For the next hour, you and Oscar take turns in the simulator, trading friendly jabs and encouragement. To Oscar’s surprise, you prove to be a formidable opponent, matching him lap for lap.
As you finish your final run, you jump up with a whoop of victory. “Ha! Beat you by two-tenths!”
Oscar shakes his head, laughing. “I can’t believe it. Where did you learn to drive like that?”
You shrug, a hint of vulnerability showing through your confident exterior. “Growing up around racing, I guess. But I never had the nerve to pursue it professionally. Too much pressure.”
Oscar nods understandingly. “I can’t blame you. It’s not an easy path.”
A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the hum of the equipment. Oscar finds himself studying your face, noticing the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and how animated you become when talking about something you love.
You catch him staring and smirk. “See something you like, Piastri?”
Oscar blushes furiously, stammering, “I, uh ... I was just ... you’re really ...”
You laugh, but there’s a softness to it. “You’re cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”
Oscar takes a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Listen, Y/N ... I know we just met, but I was wondering if maybe ... I mean, if you’re not busy ... would you like to ...”
Before he can finish, an alarm on your phone goes off. You check it and grimace. “Shoot, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Rain check on whatever you were about to say?”
Oscar nods, trying to hide his disappointment. “Yeah, of course. No problem.”
You start to leave but pause at the doorway. Turning back, you say, “Hey, Oscar? For what it’s worth, I hope you were about to ask me out. Because I’d say yes.”
With a wink and a wave, you’re gone, leaving Oscar standing in the simulator room, a mix of excitement and nerves swirling in his stomach. He takes a deep breath, a smile spreading across his face as he realizes that his journey with McLaren might be even more exciting than he initially thought.
***
The hot Qatar air shimmers around Oscar as he stands before the camera, sweat glistening on his brow. His race suit clings to his body, still damp from the grueling sprint race he’s just won. The interviewer leans in with her microphone.
“Oscar, what an incredible performance today! How does it feel to secure your first sprint victory in Formula 1?”
Oscar’s eyes shine with a mix of exhaustion and elation. “It’s ... it’s honestly surreal,” he says, his voice slightly breathless. “The team did an amazing job with the car, and everything just clicked out there. I can’t quite believe it yet.”
The interviewer nods encouragingly. “You showed remarkable pace throughout the race. Was there any point where you felt particularly challenged?”
Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but before he can say a word, a blur of motion catches his peripheral vision. Suddenly, you crash into him at full speed, nearly knocking both of you off balance.
“You did it! You actually did it!” You squeal, throwing your arms around Oscar’s neck and peppering his sweaty face with kisses.
Oscar’s eyes widen in shock, his cheeks flushing a deep red that has nothing to do with the desert heat. “Y/N! What are you-”
But you’re not listening. You’re too busy showering him with affection, right there in front of the rolling cameras and the stunned interviewer. “I’m so proud of you, you beautiful, talented man!” You exclaim between kisses.
The interviewer clears her throat, trying to regain control of the situation. “I ... um, it seems we have an unexpected guest. Miss, could you perhaps-”
You turn to face the camera, your arm still draped around Oscar’s shoulders. “Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just here to celebrate with the star of the show.” You plant another kiss on Oscar’s cheek for emphasis.
Oscar, for his part, looks like he’s torn between embarrassment and delight. He awkwardly pats your back, trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. “I’m sorry about this,” he says to the interviewer. “This is Y/N, she’s ... well, she’s ...”
“I’m his girlfriend,” you announce proudly, beaming at the camera. “And the daughter of the CEO, but that’s not important right now. What’s important is that this guy” — you ruffle Oscar’s hair — “just drove the race of his life!”
The interviewer, recovering from her initial shock, decides to roll with the unexpected turn of events. “Well, Y/N, since you’re here, what did you think of Oscar’s performance today?”
You launch into an enthusiastic analysis, gesticulating wildly. “It was absolutely brilliant! The way he managed those tires in the closing laps, fending off Verstappen ... I was on the edge of my seat the whole time!”
Oscar watches you with a mixture of amusement and affection. When you pause for breath, he gently interjects, “I think you might be a bit biased, love.”
You turn to him, eyes sparkling. “Biased? Me? Never! I’ll have you know I’m a highly objective observer of the sport.”
The interviewer, sensing an opportunity for a more personal angle, asks, “Oscar, how does it feel to have such passionate support from your girlfriend?”
Oscar’s expression softens as he looks at you. “It’s ... it’s incredible, honestly. Y/N’s been my biggest cheerleader since day one. Even on the tough days, she always believes in me.”
You lean your head on his shoulder, momentarily subdued by the sincerity in his voice. “That’s because I know how amazing you are, even when you don’t see it yourself.”
The interviewer smiles, clearly charmed by the display. “It’s wonderful to see such support. Y/N, did you have any doubts during the race?”
You straighten up, your energy returning full force. “Doubts? About Oscar? Never! Although,” you add with a mischievous grin, “I did consider commandeering a golf cart and driving onto the track myself when Verstappen started closing that gap in the final laps.”
Oscar chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m glad you restrained yourself. I don’t think that would’ve gone over well with the stewards.”
“Oh please,” you scoff playfully. “I would’ve told them I was delivering a vital message about tire strategy. They would’ve believed me.”
The interviewer laughs along with you. “I have to say, this is one of the most entertaining post-race interviews I’ve ever conducted. Oscar, how do you keep up with such a vibrant personality?”
Oscar grins, his earlier embarrassment fading. “Honestly, I’m still trying to figure that out. Y/N keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You beam at him, then stage-whisper to the interviewer, “He loves it, really. I add much-needed excitement to his life.”
“As if driving a Formula 1 car at over 300 kilometers per hour isn’t exciting enough,” Oscar retorts good-naturedly.
You wave a dismissive hand. “Details, details. Now, are we done here? Because I have plans for celebrating this victory, and they involve a lot less talking and a lot more-”
Oscar quickly cuts you off, his cheeks reddening again. “And on that note, I think we should wrap this up. Thank you for the interview,” he says to the journalist, who’s trying hard to stifle her laughter.
As Oscar begins to lead you away, the interviewer calls out one last question. “Oscar, any final words for your fans watching at home?”
Oscar pauses, considering for a moment. “Just ... thank you for all the support. It means the world to me. And to the team, of course. We couldn’t do this without you all.”
You can’t resist adding your own message. “And remember, kids: if you work hard and believe in yourself, one day you too could have an incredibly attractive partner tackling you with kisses on live television!”
With that, you pull Oscar away from the cameras, both of you laughing as you disappear into the paddock.
Once you’re out of sight of the media, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. “I can’t believe you did that,” he says, shaking his head.
You grin unrepentantly. “Oh come on, it was fun! And admit it, you loved it.”
Oscar tries to maintain a stern face, but his lips twitch upwards. “It was certainly ... unexpected.”
“Unexpected is my middle name,” you declare proudly.
“I thought your middle name was Trouble,” Oscar quips.
You gasp in mock offense. “Oscar Piastri, are you sassing me? I’ll have you know that Trouble is my first name. Y/N is just a cover.”
Oscar laughs, pulling you close despite the sweat still clinging to his race suit. “Well, Trouble, what do you say we get out of here and start that celebration you were talking about?”
Your eyes light up. “Now you’re talking! But first ...” You lean in, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I believe I was interrupted earlier when I was showering the race winner with well-deserved affection.”
Oscar’s breath catches as you close the distance between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that’s far more heated than the ones shared on camera. When you finally pull apart, you’re both a little breathless.
“Wow,” Oscar murmurs. “If that’s how you react to a sprint win, I can’t wait to see what happens when I win a Grand Prix.”
You wink at him. “Keep driving like that, and you’ll find out soon enough. Now come on, hero. Let’s go find somewhere more private before my dad shows up and ruins all our fun.”
As if on cue, Zak’s voice echoes down the paddock. “Oscar! There you are! Hell of a drive out there, kid!”
You groan dramatically. “Speak of the devil. Quick, hide me in your helmet!”
Oscar chuckles, keeping an arm around your waist as Zak approaches. “I don’t think you’d fit, babe. Besides, I’m pretty sure he already knows you’re here. The whole world probably knows after that interview.”
You shrug, unabashed. “What can I say? When I’m proud of my man, I want everyone to know it.”
Zak reaches you, clapping Oscar on the shoulder. “That was some fantastic racing out there, Oscar. You should be proud.”
Oscar nods, a shy smile on his face. “Thank you. The car felt great, and the team’s strategy was spot on.”
You roll your eyes affectionately. “Always so modest. Dad, tell him how amazing he was!”
Zak laughs. “I think you’ve done enough of that for all of us, sweetheart. I saw that interview, by the way. Quite a show you two put on.”
You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was merely congratulating our star driver on his well-deserved victory.”
“Uh-huh,” Zak says, clearly not buying it. “Well, try to keep the congratulations a bit more PG in the future, alright? We do have sponsors to think about.”
Oscar looks mortified, but you just grin. “No promises. But I’ll try to restrain myself to just one tackle per race weekend.”
Zak shakes his head, a mixture of exasperation and fondness on his face. “What am I going to do with you two? Oscar, I hope you know what you’ve signed up for with this one.”
Oscar glances at you, his expression softening. “I think I have a pretty good idea. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
You feel your heart swell at his words. “Aww, babe. That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said. Well, second sweetest. The sweetest was when you told me my driving in the simulator was ‘not bad.’”
Oscar groans. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Nope!” you say cheerfully. “I plan to remind you of it at least once a week for the rest of our lives.”
Zak watches your banter with amusement. “Alright, you two. Oscar, the team wants to debrief before you head out. Y/N, try not to cause any international incidents while I’m gone, okay?”
You salute dramatically. “Yes, sir, Team Principal, sir! I shall endeavor to be on my very best behavior.”
As Zak walks away, shaking his head and muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “God help us all,” you turn back to Oscar.
“So, hotshot,” you say, running a finger down his chest. “How long do you think this debrief will take? Because I have some very important plans that involve you, me, and a bottle of champagne I may or may not have ‘borrowed’ from the hospitality area.”
Oscar raises an eyebrow. “Borrowed, huh? You know, as a representative of the team, I should probably discourage such behavior.”
You lean in close, your lips barely brushing his ear. “And as my boyfriend, what do you think?”
Oscar’s arms tighten around you. “I think,” he murmurs, “that I’m the luckiest guy in the world. And that I’ll try to make this the quickest debrief in F1 history.”
You pull back with a triumphant grin. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go, be brilliant, and hurry back to me. I’ll be waiting.”
As Oscar jogs off towards the team garage, you watch him go with a soft smile. Your eyes linger on the PIASTRI emblazoned across his back, and you feel a surge of pride and affection.
“That’s my guy,” you murmur to yourself. “My brilliant, amazing, race-winning guy.”
And as you head off to prepare for your celebration, you can’t help but think that while Oscar might have won the sprint race today, you’re the one who truly hit the jackpot.
***
The Hungaroring erupts in cheers as Oscar crosses the finish line, securing his maiden Grand Prix victory. The McLaren garage explodes with jubilation, team members hugging each other and pumping their fists in the air.
As Oscar completes his cool-down lap, his voice crackles over the team radio, breathless with excitement. “We did it! We actually did it! Thank you, thank you to everyone. I can’t believe it!”
His race engineer responds, emotion evident in his voice. “Fantastic job, Oscar. You drove brilliantly. Enjoy this moment, mate. You’ve earned it.”
Meanwhile, in the paddock, you’re practically vibrating with excitement. You’ve been pacing back and forth, unable to contain your energy as you watched the final laps unfold on the screens. As soon as Oscar crosses the line, you sprint towards parc fermé, determined to be there when he gets out of the car.
You weave through the crowd, your McLaren bomber jacket with Oscar’s number emblazoned across the back drawing curious glances. As you reach the barriers, you see Oscar’s car pull up, the Australian already unclipping his helmet.
“Oscar!” You shout, waving frantically. “Over here!”
Oscar’s eyes scan the crowd, lighting up when he spots you. He clambers out of the car, his legs a bit shaky from the adrenaline and physical exertion. As he makes his way towards you, his gaze locks onto the jacket you’re wearing, and his steps falter.
You notice his reaction and grin mischievously, doing a little twirl to show off the jacket. “Like what you see, champ?”
Oscar’s eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape. “That’s ... wow. Is that my number?”
You nod, beaming. “Sure is. Thought I’d support my favorite driver in style. Although,” you add with a wink, “I have to say, it will look much better on the ground next to your bed.”
Oscar’s face flushes red, and he glances around nervously. “Y/N! We’re in public!”
You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his sweat-damp hair. “Oh, relax. Everyone’s too busy celebrating your win to pay attention to us. Speaking of which ...” You grab the front of his race suit and pull him close, planting a passionate kiss on his lips.
When you finally break apart, Oscar looks dazed but happy. “I could get used to that kind of celebration,” he murmurs.
“Well, keep winning races like that, and you’ll have plenty more where that came from,” you tease. “Now go, do your podium thing. I’ll be waiting to continue this ... discussion ... later.”
As Oscar heads off for the podium ceremony, you turn to make your way back to the paddock. That’s when you spot Lando chatting with some engineers. Your eyes narrow as you remember how a McLaren strategy mistake had allowed Lando to undercut Oscar, nearly costing him the win. Even though it wasn’t really Lando’s fault, you can’t help feeling annoyed at him.
You’re about to march over and give Lando a piece of your mind when you spot something that makes you pause — Fernando Alonso’s unattended scooter, parked just a few feet away. A mischievous grin spreads across your face as an idea forms.
Glancing around to make sure no one’s watching, you casually stroll over to the scooter and hop on. You rev the engine, drawing Lando’s attention.
“Hey, Y/N!” Lando calls out, waving. “Congrats on Oscar’s win! Some race, huh?”
You smile sweetly, maneuvering the scooter towards him. “Oh, it sure was, Lando. Especially that bit where you refused to give the lead back to Oscar until the last minute. That was ... interesting.”
Lando’s smile falters slightly. “Come on. You know it wasn’t my fault. The team made the strategy call.”
“Oh, I know,” you say, inching the scooter closer. “I just thought I’d give you a little reminder about team spirit and timeliness.”
Before Lando can react, you accelerate the scooter, aiming straight for his foot. There’s a yelp of pain as the wheel rolls over Lando’s toes, followed by a string of colorful expletives.
“Oops!” You exclaim with faux innocence. “So sorry, Lando. These things are just so hard to control, you know?”
Lando hops on one foot, glaring at you. “What the hell? That bloody hurt!”
You shrug, still perched on the scooter. “Funny, that’s probably how Oscar felt when you wouldn’t let him by. Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?”
As Lando opens his mouth to retort, a stern voice cuts through the air. “Y/N Brown! What on earth do you think you’re doing?”
You wince, recognizing your father’s voice. Zak strides towards you, his expression a mix of exasperation and disbelief.
“Hi, Dad,” you say sheepishly. “I was just ... congratulating Lando on his race?”
Zak pinches the bridge of his nose. “By running over his foot with Alonso’s scooter? Jesus, Y/N. I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”
You hop off the scooter, trying your best to look contrite. “In my defense, it was a very gentle running over. Barely a love tap, really.”
Lando snorts, still rubbing his foot. “Love tap my arse. I think you broke my toe!”
Zak sighs heavily. “Lando, go get that checked out by the medics. Y/N, you’re coming with me. We need to have a serious talk about appropriate behavior in the paddock.”
As your father leads you away, you can’t help but call back over your shoulder, “Hey Lando! Next time, maybe think about giving the position back sooner, yeah?”
Zak groans. “Y/N, please. You know Lando was put in a tough spot. You’re not helping your case here.”
You follow your father to a quiet corner of the McLaren garage, trying to suppress your grin. Despite the impending lecture, you can’t bring yourself to regret your actions. Nobody messes with your Oscar and gets away with it.
Zak turns to face you, his expression serious. “Y/N, I know you’re excited about Oscar’s win, and believe me, I am too. But you can’t go around assaulting our drivers, even if it’s just with a scooter.”
You nod, attempting to look suitably chastised. “I know. I got carried away. It won’t happen again.”
Zak raises an eyebrow. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”
Before you can respond, there’s a commotion at the garage entrance. Oscar bursts in, his face flushed with excitement.
“Y/N!” He calls out, spotting you. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
You turn to him, your face lighting up. “Oscar! Congrats, babe! I know I already said it, but you were amazing out there!”
Oscar sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around. As he sets you down, his eyes once again lock onto your jacket. “God, you look incredible in that,” he murmurs, his voice low.
You smirk, running a hand down his chest. “Oh yeah? Maybe I should wear it more often then.”
Zak clears his throat loudly, reminding you both of his presence. “While I’m thrilled about the win, could you two maybe tone down the PDA a notch? We are still in a professional environment.”
Oscar steps back, looking sheepish. “Sorry. I got a bit carried away.”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Oh, come on, Dad. Let the man celebrate! It’s his first win, after all.”
Zak sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Fine, fine. But try to keep it family-friendly, alright? And Y/N, we’re not done talking about the scooter incident.”
Oscar looks between you and your father, confusion evident on his face. “Scooter incident?”
You wave a dismissive hand. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a little misunderstanding with Lando. Nothing to worry about.”
Oscar’s brow furrows. “What kind of misunderstanding involves a scooter?”
Before you can answer, Lando limps into the garage, his foot wrapped in a bandage. “The kind where your girlfriend tries to maim me, apparently,” he grumbles.
Oscar’s eyes widen. “Y/N, you didn’t ...”
You shrug, trying to look innocent. “It was an accident! Besides, he had it coming after that stunt he pulled during the race.”
Oscar runs a hand through his hair, looking exasperated but also slightly amused. “Y/N, you can’t just go around running people over because you’re unhappy with their racing.”
“Watch me,” you mutter under your breath.
Zak throws his hands up in defeat. “I give up. Oscar, congratulations again on the win. Y/N, try not to cause any more chaos for at least the next hour, okay? I need to go do damage control with the press.”
As your father walks away, Oscar turns to you, his expression a mix of fondness and exasperation. “What am I going to do with you?”
You grin, stepping closer to him. “I have a few ideas. Most of them involve you, me, and licking champagne off each other’s skin.”
Oscar’s breath hitches, his eyes darkening. “Y/N,” he warns, but there’s no real heat in his voice.
You lean in, your lips brushing his ear. “What do you say we get out of here, champ? I think it’s time for your real celebration.”
Oscar doesn’t need to be told twice. He grabs your hand, leading you towards the exit. As you pass Lando, you call out, “No hard feelings, right, Lando? Maybe next time you’ll think twice before playing dirty on track.”
Lando rolls his eyes but can’t help cracking a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just keep her on a leash, will you, Oscar?”
Oscar chuckles. “I don’t think anyone could keep Y/N on a leash if they tried.”
As you leave the garage, the sounds of celebration still echoing through the paddock, you can’t help but feel on top of the world. Oscar’s first win, your successful (if slightly unorthodox) defense of his honor, and the promise of a private celebration to come — it’s been a perfect day.
You squeeze Oscar’s hand, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, hero, ready to show me just how much you like this jacket?”
Oscar grins, pulling you closer. “More than ready. But maybe we should wait until we’re somewhere more private. I don’t fancy giving the entire paddock a show.”
You laugh, the sound bright and carefree. “Spoilsport. But fine, I suppose I can be patient. For now.”
As you walk hand in hand towards the team motorhome, you can’t help but think that while Oscar may have won the race today, you’re both winners in the game of love. And that’s the best victory of all.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#oscar piastri#op81#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri x y/n#mclaren#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri drabble
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Aegon Targaryen - The King's Obsession
Summary - She is the singular focus of his attention, the only person who matters to him and she knows it. One night, she expertly uses her charms and his infatuation to orchestrate an encounter that ends in pure bliss for her, fully exploiting his devotion to her advantage.
Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader
Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)
Word count - 2393
Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.
Aegon Targaryen was a man marked by jealousy, a trait I noticed long before our marriage. A trait I found rather alluring.
The intensity of his possessiveness was thrilling and intoxicating. The idea of having someone so desperately and undeniably focused on me, unwilling to share even a sliver of my attention with another, stirred something profound within me.
There was a pull in knowing that I held such a significant place in his world, especially when that world was ruled by the king of the Seven Kingdoms himself.
To be the object of such unrelenting desire, the singular focus of a man who wielded immense power, was phenomenal. It was as if I were a rare jewel, coveted and cherished in a way that few could ever experience.
His neediness made me feel singularly important, a queen in the truest sense of the word, celebrated and adored by the very ruler of the realm.
One evening at a grand dinner, I chose to deliberately test the limits of Aegon's jealousy. The feast was resplendent, the hall filled with the chatter of nobles and the clinking of silverware.
I positioned myself next to Lord Halford, a man known for his charm and vivacity. From the outset, I engaged him with a warm, inviting smile, letting my laughter ring out more freely than usual.
Lord Halford, ever the gentleman, leaned in slightly, his voice a soft murmur as he said, "It's been far too long since we last conversed. How have you been, your grace?"
"Oh, you must know," I replied, my eyes twinkling with feigned innocence, "life in the court is ever so busy but I've found it quite entertaining tonight, thanks to your delightful company."
Our conversation flowed easily. I allowed myself to bask in the pleasure of his attention, laughing at his stories and adding my own anecdotes with a touch more enthusiasm than usual.
As I leaned in closer, my hand occasionally brushing his arm, I could feel Aegon's gaze burning into the back of my neck.
I glanced briefly at Aegon, catching the edge of his stormy expression. His eyes, usually warm and soft, were now darkened with an intensity that made my heart race. His posture had become rigid, his jaw set tight as though he were struggling to keep his composure.
Lord Halford, catching sight of Aegon's darkened expression, instinctively pulled back slightly. His previous eagerness faded, replaced by a more cautious demeanour.
"It seems the King is rather absorbed in his thoughts this evening," he said, his tone now more reserved. "Perhaps we should let him enjoy his own reflections."
Undeterred, I maintained my warm and engaging demeanour.
"Absolutely," I replied, my gaze drifting back to Aegon with a hint of deliberate sweetness. "Though I must admit, tonight's intrigue feels unusually personal."
Lord Halford nodded, clearly uncomfortable under the weight of Aegon's gaze.
"Indeed," he said with a polite but hasty smile, "personal intrigue can be most... compelling. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
With that, he made a polite, if somewhat hasty, retreat from our conversation. I could see the relief in his step as he distanced himself from the brooding presence of the King.
As Lord Halford moved away, I turned my full attention back to Aegon.
His eyes were locked on the retreating figure, his expression a storm of irritation and concentrated jealousy. His fingers drummed impatiently on the table, each rhythmic tap a testament to his struggle to maintain his composure.
The more animated I was with Lord Halford, the more Aegon's agitation seemed to intensify. The subtle power play between us unfolded like an intricate dance, each movement and gesture meticulously designed to provoke him.
I felt a thrill in being so deeply desired that even the smallest shift in my attention could elicit such a strong reaction from him.
The excitement of being the centre of his turmoil, knowing it stemmed from his profound longing for me, was intoxicating. My heart raced as I saw the storm of jealousy clouding his demeanour.
Without a word, I rose from my seat, the silk of my gown brushing against my legs as I stood. I glanced at Aegon with a look that was both inviting and commanding, a silent invitation to follow.
His eyes, dark and fierce with a mixture of frustration and desire, locked onto me immediately.
Without hesitation, he rose and followed me, his steps quick and purposeful, as if he were a hound obeying a command.
We left the feast behind, the noise of the revelry fading as we made our way through the corridors. There was an urgency in his stride, his focus was entirely on me, his frustration at the dinner transforming into a determined drive as he followed my lead.
Entering our chambers, I moved with deliberate grace, the silence of the room embracing me as I crossed to my dressing area. With a practised ease, I changed into my nightgown, a delicate, flowing garment that hugged my figure softly, its silk whispering against my skin.
Once dressed, I made my way to the edge of the bed, my movements slow and intentional. As I settled there with my legs crossed, the soft glow of the chamber's candlelight played across the curves of my figure, casting a warm, intimate light that accentuated the serene anticipation in my posture.
Aegon entered the room behind me, his eyes quickly taking in the scene. The contrast between his tense, urgent demeanour and my calm elegance was striking. His posture was taut with a mixture of frustration and desire, his earlier agitation from the dinner giving way to a palpable eagerness.
As I awaited him on the edge of the bed, my expression remained composed yet hinted at the promise of what was to come.
The night was now ours, and the thrill of our interplay, with its blend of desire and dominance, set the stage for a new kind of intimacy.
Without hesitation, he moved towards me, his eyes pleading. "Please," he murmured, his voice a low, ragged whisper.
I tilted my head slightly, a hint of a smile playing on my lips as I regarded him.
"What do you want, Aegon?" I asked, my voice soft but steady, revelling in the power I held in that moment.
His response was immediate and heartfelt, stripped of any pretence. "You," he said simply, his eyes locked onto mine with an almost pleading fervour.
It was clear that he was consumed by his need for me, and his words carried a weight of both desperation and adoration.
As he took a step closer, I leaned back slightly, the glint in my eyes revealing a challenge. With a deliberate motion, I lifted my foot and placed it gently on his chest, stopping him in his tracks.
The gesture was both commanding and teasing, a way to assert control while simultaneously heightening the tension between us.
Aegon's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as he gazed up at me from his halted position.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice tinged with awe. "I can't take my eyes off you."
I allowed a smile to play on my lips, savouring the power I wielded in that moment. "Is that so?" I responded softly, my tone both teasing and indulgent.
His vulnerability was evident, a mixture of reverence and urgency. Reaching up, he gently grasped my foot, his fingers warm and trembling against my skin.
Slowly, he began to kiss his way up my leg, each kiss a soft, worshipful press of his lips against my skin.
The sensation of his kisses was electrifying, contrasting with the cool silk of my nightgown. I shivered with pleasure, my breath hitching as he continued his tender exploration.
"You're making me crazy," he breathed between kisses, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're all I can think about."
I tilted my head slightly, enjoying the effect I had on him. "And how does it make you feel, knowing you can't have me just yet?" I teased, my voice low and seductive.
He responded with a mix of reverence and urgency.
"It's maddening," he admitted, his eyes burning with desire as he kissed higher along my leg. "But it's also the most incredible feeling. I want you so badly."
Suddenly, I pulled my leg back, breaking the intimate connection we had been building. Aegon's face fell into a look of utter desperation, his eyes wide and pleading. The shift in dynamic was immediate, his body tense with longing.
I leaned back further on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows, my body a tempting curve of invitation.
Slowly, deliberately, I let one hand glide down my body, the soft silk of my nightgown barely concealing the skin beneath. My fingers trailed over my stomach, brushing the fabric aside as I traced a teasing path lower.
Aegon's eyes followed every movement, he took a step closer, but I shook my head, a soft smile playing on my lips.
"Not yet," I murmured, my voice a velvet whisper. "Watch me first."
His eyes widened, the desperation in his expression intensifying as I let my hand drift lower, slipping beneath the hem of my nightgown. The anticipation hung heavy in the air each breath he took growing more uneven as he watched me with rapt attention.
I allowed my fingers to brush lightly against myself, a soft gasp escaping my lips as I arched my back slightly, savoring the sensation. The sight of me touching myself, the pleasure that flickered across my face, was almost too much for him to bear.
His hands clenched at his sides, his restraint hanging by a thread.
"Is this what you want, Aegon?" I whispered, my voice a sultry tease. "Do you want to see me lose myself like this, knowing you can't have me just yet?"
He swallowed hard, his voice strained as he replied, "More than anything."
My smile deepened, and I continued to tease him, my fingers moving with agonizing slowness, drawing out every moment of anticipation. His breath hitched with every subtle movement, his frustration mounting as he watched me with an intensity that bordered on worship.
"Please," he finally whispered, his voice breaking with need. "I can't take it anymore. I need you."
Satisfied that I had pushed him to the brink, I finally relented. I removed my hand, leaving him staring hungrily at the spot where my fingers had just been.
Slowly, I crawled back up the bed, positioning myself in the center, my legs parted in a way that was both inviting and commanding.
"Then come and get me," I whispered, my voice a seductive challenge.
Without a moment's hesitation, he began to pull off his clothes with a hurried urgency. The crisp rustle of fabric falling to the floor contrasted with the charged stillness of the room, each discarded garment a testament to his growing anticipation.
As he rushed towards me, his movements were a blend of frantic eagerness and focused determination. His desire was unmistakable, a tangible force that seemed to propel him forward.
His fingers, trembling with anticipation, gently traced the curves of my body before he positioned himself between my legs. The heat between us was undeniable, a magnetic pull that had been building throughout the evening.
I leaned back slightly on the bed, my body arching in anticipation as I gazed at him with tenderness. His eyes, a mixture of longing and urgency, locked onto mine.
"Are you ready?" I whispered, my voice a seductive murmur.
With a deep breath, he guided himself inside me, his movement slow and deliberate at first. The initial contact was a wave of warmth and intensity that made me gasp softly. As he began to move, the rhythm of his thrusts was measured, a blend of tenderness and passion.
Each thrust was deep and deliberate, drawing out a series of soft, gasping breaths from me.
"You feel incredible," Aegon murmured, his voice rough with pleasure. "So perfect. I can't get enough of you."
The sensation of him filling me completely was both thrilling and intimate, a profound connection that went beyond mere physicality. His movements grew more fervent as the pleasure built, each thrust driving us closer to the edge of ecstasy.
The bed creaked softly beneath us, a rhythmic accompaniment to the growing tempo of our lovemaking. The tension and heat that had simmered throughout the evening now erupted in a series of intense, shared moments.
With each thrust, he seemed to lose himself more in the sensation, his breath coming in ragged, passionate bursts.
"It's like you're everything I've ever wanted" he gasped, his hands gripping my hips firmly.
My own responses were a mix of soft moans and whispered encouragement.
"Tell me how much you want me," I urged my voice a breathy whisper filled with pleasure.
His hands guided our movements, his touch both firm and tender. "I want you more than anything," he breathed, his voice strained with desire. "You drive me wild. I need you so much."
The pleasure was overwhelming, a crescendo of sensations that seemed to build and build, pushing us both toward a shared climax. Our breathing grew more erratic, our movements more urgent, as we approached the peak of our passion.
Finally, as the intensity reached its zenith, our bodies entwined in a moment of perfect release. The culmination of our lovemaking was a wave of ecstasy that left us both breathless, our hearts pounding in unison.
"You're amazing," Aegon whispered, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction. "I never want this to end."
The room seemed to shimmer with the afterglow of our shared experience, the connection between us deepened by the raw intensity of the moment. As we lay together, our bodies still intertwined, I looked up at him with a satisfied smile.
The thrill of our interplay lingered in the air, a testament to the powerful connection we had forged.
My whisper, soft and teasing, broke the silence between us. "Remind me to make you jealous more often," I said, the playful challenge in my voice a promise of the exciting dynamic that lay ahead.
Aegon's eyes sparkled with a mix of affection and mischief, he pulled me close pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.
The warmth of his embrace and the shared satisfaction of the evening wrapped around us, a perfect end to a perfect night.
A/n - Jealousy might be the green-eyed monster, but in these chambers, it's just foreplay
#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd#hotd x reader#house of the dragon x reader#hotd one shot#hotd season 2#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aegon ii targaryen#aegon x reader#aegon targaryen x reader#team green#aegon the second#aegon targaryen#king aegon#hotd aegon
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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Missing
Synopsis: You went suddenly missing, and your knight, Ser Aemond, was beside himself-- completely desperate to find you once more. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Reader becoming closer, ¿infatuation?, Aemond Overly Concerned, Fluff PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: ngl, i rlly like this one.
“I was gone for just a moment… how the fuck did you lose the princess?!” Aemond roared at his fellow knight, who had just recently recovered from his fever. You and your family were still staying by the seaside palace, and Aemond had only recently adapted to your new routine when your days were spent in your summer home, but it was suddenly disrupted by your disappearance. Ser Adam turned his head to the side and had a sneezing fit once more, making Aemond roll his eye. “I—I had only excused myself for a quick moment to relieve myself, and the princess swore she would stay put! I had no idea that she would escape!”
“You imbecile! What kind of guard are you? Leaving the princess alone! You had a station in the castle longer than I— you must know of her tendencies to run off!” Aemond spat, stomping furiously as he searched for you through the halls, Ser Adam in tow. “I thought she had outgrown such habits! Ever since you came to be her guard, she never once escaped.” Ser Adam tried to defend himself. “Because I never let her out of my sight!” Aemond resisted his desire to punch his fellow knight as he gave him a sheepish look, and an ‘oh’ left his lips. “Go! Alert the other guards; the princess must be found quickly. If she is found harmed due to your negligence, I swear to you I’ll be the one to put your head upon a spike personally.” Aemond quickly sprinted through the halls, unable to see Ser Adam's reaction to his rather… bold and overly passionate statement.
Aemond ran up the stairs, battling through the pit in his stomach and ache in his lungs to reach your chambers that were placed upon the highest tower of the seaside keep. When Aemond opened the doors of your circular chambers, naught a soul was to be found beside your pet cat who leisurely laid on your bed. “Princess!” Aemond called, going through the various rooms in your chambers in search of you. When he heard footsteps approaching, Aemond quickly exited the wet room, hoping it was you, but it was only your brother. The prince rested by the doorframe, catching his breath as he ran up the endless steps that led to your chambers. “Where…. Where is— she?” He panted, resting his hands on his knees as he felt winded. Aemond could not reply, only assisting the prince onto a chair. “I do not know if the tightening in my chest is because my sister is missing or because I ran up those wretched stairs! Whose idea was it to place her chambers in the highest tower?” He started to ramble on.
“I believe she said that it was yours, my prince,” Aemond answered, remembering one of your anecdotes from the day before. “Ah, yes, so she could not climb out the window.” The prince ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. “How, in the name of the seven, did she even escape?! You never take your eye off her! I find it impossible to believe that she slipped through your fingers!” The prince exclaimed, exasperated as he was once again subjected to the fear of your disappearance. He felt a kind of anxiousness he had not felt in a while due to the attention your sworn protector placed upon you; he had not worried about you escaping and wandering off ever since Ser Aemond came to your care. “I was summoned by the king, and I left the princess on the watch of Ser Adam. He tells me he took a short moment to relieve himself, and when he returned to the gardens, the princess had already disappeared.”
“Damned stairs!” A third voice suddenly boomed, catching the attention of the prince and the knight. “My king,” Ser Aemond quickly bowed, and your brother abruptly stood. “Where is your sister?” He questioned sharply, another person who got accustomed to your shift of habits as you had not once escaped when under the protection of Ser Aemond. “She escaped her guard,” Your brother sighed, making the king point his heated gaze to Ser Aemond. “Not Ser Aemond; you summoned him, and sister was under the protection of another.” Your brother quickly defended. “Oh, yes, of course,” The king said, already forgetting that he had spoken to Ser Aemond just a few moments ago. “Then what are you two doing in her chambers? Find her! For heaven’s sake, I thought we were past this!” The king said, holding the same exasperation as his son. “Of course, father.” The prince gave a curt nod. “And for the love of god, move her chambers to the east wing! These stairs would cause anyone apoplexy!” The king exclaimed from a distance.
“I had told Ser Adam to order the knight to patrol and search the beach,” Aemond spoke, and your brother nodded. “The shore is stretched for miles. Hopefully, she had not threaded far.” The prince said in thought as he tried to recall where you had escaped to the past times. “Unless…” He trailed. “Unless what?” Aemond questioned. “Unless she found a horse— I gave strict orders to the stableboy not to lend her one, but she always manages to bribe them.” Aemond’s grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. “If she had managed to mount a horse, where would she run off to my prince? I only ask because I am still quite unfamiliar here,”
“Oh gods,” Your brother suddenly paled, “She could reach town.” Dread spread to his stomach as his sister could be defenseless, squished amongst the crowd of smallfolk who would not hesitate to take advantage of her. “Or worse… she could reach the Mootons.” Aemond frowned, “Lord Tristan’s house?” He gritted, the gnawing feeling in his gut evermore persistent, and it only multiplied as your brother nodded. “I was told they left the capitol shortly after we had.” Your brother covered his mouth in deep thought. “I shall ride to Mooton, my prince.” Ser Aemond announced, ready to step out of the door, but the prince hindered him.
“No, you are unfamiliar with this place. I shall ride to Moonton and search for my sister there. In the meantime, order the guards in town to keep an eye on her, and you must continue to search this castle.” The prince decided, and Aemond nodded with understanding. Both men quickly descend the endless stairs to search for you. No guard nor tracking dog had found you by the shore nor the town— not even in the near lordship. When the night was coming, the king had ordered to expand the search into the sea, searching for you far and wide when, in truth, you were just a few yards away from them.
Aemond was growing frantic in his search for you, leaving no hall nor room unchecked. The moon was nearing its peak, and most of the guards had grown tired in their search, but not your knight who searched the castle like a madman. “Princess!” He yelled for the hundredth time of the day, still hoping that you would eventually answer his call. “You must rest, Ser Aemond… we will start fresh in the morning.” Ser Adam said cautiously, seeking out your sword protector, who returned to the gardens in search of you. “Rest?” Aemond spat. “We would not be in this situation if it weren’t for your incompetence!” He seethed, “As of now, the princess is alone and helpless in the night! And you are thinking of rest?! She— she had not eaten or… or drank anything for hours! She could have been taken or harmed! The princess of the realm is missing, and you think of rest?!” Aemond was ready to pounce on the knight, but he abruptly froze as a structure caught the side of his eye.
Aemond turned to his right, his gaze enclosed on the towering shrubs of the maze, and only then did it occur to him that no one had searched there. He pushed away his fellow knight, took the lamp in his hand, and ran towards the maze. Aemond turned endless corners and was constantly met by block pathways until he finally found you. Aemond wanted to fall on his knees in relief as he saw you seated on the grass, a pout on your lips as you boredly picked at the grass you sat upon. “Princess,” Aemond breathed out, rushing to you and knelt by your side to check if you were at all harmed. “They changed the maze,” Was the first thing you said. “I got lost.”
You looked upon your knight, his tired face filled with relief that slowly turned into anger with each moment you looked upon him through the light of the moon. “What were you thinking escaping your guard?!” Aemond roared, the dread in his stomach turning into a rage as you had subjected him to such emotions of anxiety and fear the whole day. You shrugged, having no reason or defense to escape Ser Adam. In truth, you had just wanted a moment alone— a moment without your knights’ constant presence or gaze. You did not intend to set a panic. You sighed as Ser Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel faint; I have not eaten since the morning,” You said weakly, unaccustomed to hunger and lack of sustenance, even if it was just for a few hours. And with you venturing through the maze in the summer heat as you tried to find the way out, it had left you completely tired.
“Why had you not cried and yelled for help? Do you know the panic you had set? The King is furious; your brother is wrapped in fear, and The Queen—“ Aemond abruptly stopped speaking as he had not sensed any fear nor anxiety in the queen during your disappearance. Your mother was quite used to your escapes and no longer found care as she was certain that it was just a cry for attention on your part. “I did! I had been calling for you since the morning, but you never heard me!” You frowned, a pout returning to your lips. Ser Aemond had always answered your call, even if it were the measliest of matters, but when you needed him the most, it would seem he had not heard you.
Aemond sighed once more as you crossed your arms across your chest, a furrow in your brow that was a telltale sign of your irritation due to your hunger. Your knight reached into his pocket and retrieved a pastry wrapped in cloth that he had been carrying the whole day, knowing that you would undoubtedly be peckish when he eventually found you. The sour look on your face instantly disappeared as you were presented with the pastry Ser Aemond had brought for you.
Aemond bit his tongue as the pout on your lips quickly bloomed into a smile as you gratefully took the pastry from his hand and ate it, Aemond moving to sit by your side as the adrenaline had worn off and his tiredness quickly weighed him down. “I’m sorry,” You say as your knight rests his head upon the tall bush, a long, tired sigh leaving his lips. Aemond hummed, not wanting to believe you, but it was difficult as sincerity and remorse were heavy in your tone. “I truly am. I… I just wanted a few moments alone; I did not mean to alarm anyone.” You said softly, offering half of the pasty to your knight, who you were certain had no time of reprieve the whole day. Aemond did not have it in him to deny your offer to take a piece of the pastry to sedate his stomach. “Whatever intentions you have, you must know of the consequences of it, princess.” He said.
“I was only gone for a few hours— none of you needed to panic as you did. It’s quite an overreaction.” Aemond scoffed. “You dare blame us?” He questioned. “Now, it is our fault that we care?” You rolled your eyes at your knight. “Seeing how often I do this… it is an overreaction! You need not fret that much,” Aemond shook his head. “Are you aware of how well-loved you are? Not only by your family but as well as this whole entire kingdom?” Aemond questioned. “No guard ceased in finding you— some did not even wait for a boat to search for you in the sea; they readily swam. I passed the kitchens endless of times, and each time, I saw the cooks and maids praying for you to be found. Even your cat joined in on the search, accompanying Ser Adam as he searched for you in each room. It is not an overreaction, princess; it is an action brought out of adoration.”
Your gaze went to your lap. You bit your lip harshly as Ser Aemond waited for your reply, but he was only met with a stifled sniffle. “Princess?” He asked, trying to meet your gaze, but you would not let him. “Why are you crying? Does something hurt?” He asked, quickly springing up from his lax position and taking hold of your arm. “You made me feel guilty!” You cried, Aemond pursing his lips to hinder an amused smile that was twitching on his lips. Aemond froze as you suddenly buried your face onto his chest as you sobbed. Aemond sat there completely still, unknowing what to do, until he eventually cautiously wrapped his arms around your tremoring frame. He could not recall the last time he had embraced another person. He would think it was when he left home, his mother embracing him goodbye, but even he was uncertain. All he was certain was that though it was quite inappropriate to embrace the princess of the realm, it felt… nice.
“Do you… do you think they will hate me now?” You sobbed, and Aemond ran his hand through your hair, taking the moment that you both were away from any prying eyes. “No.” He said with conviction. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better!” You cried. Aemond breathed in deeply, “Princess, I don’t think anything you would do would make anyone hate you.” You raised your gaze to see if your knight was sincere or if he was saying such a thing so your tears would cease.
“I tried to, but I couldn’t,” Aemond confessed, unable to restrain himself as the words left his lips. “Oh,” You say, “Why did you want to hate me?” You asked, but Ser Aemond shrugged, moving the two of you to stand. “Come now, we must return, so they must cease their search.” You could only nod, deciding to let go of the matter for the moment and focus on being grateful that your knight had found you.
Taglist: anukulee ladyriverasafespace rebeccawinters
#aemond fanfiction#house of the dragon#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd aemond#aemond modern au#prince aemond#prince aemond x reader#prince aemond fic#prince aemond targaryen#prince aemond x you#hotd fandom#aemond targaryen smut#aemond smut#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#hotd fic#house of the dragon fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#knight x princess#aemond the kinslayer#ewan nation#hotd season 2#knight aemond
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𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕 𝕐𝕠𝕦
Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Prompt: Inspired by the quote “I love you in every timeline”, but with a twist Words: ~870 Genre: Eventual fluff Notice: Spoilers of Zayne’s ‘Tower of Secrets’ myth & ‘Still in Dark’ anecdote
[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]
Throughout his entire existence, Zayne believed that Astra’s punishment condemned him to eternal separation from his true love; forced to either sacrifice himself or spiral out of control upon her death.
But was this truly his punishment, or merely an obstacle? A cruel way to derail him from finding the one.
Thus, when he managed to save his childhood friend without any further complications—without having to give up or lose himself because she survived—he should have felt relieved.
Felt a sense of completeness that he had dreamt for so long.
Instead, the hollowness, the whisper of something just out of reach remained.
“What more do you want from me?” he cursed Astra. Cursing His sick, twisted game.
And so, as he ventured back through his memories, aside from the occasional encounters with others, there was always one person who inexplicably found him.
You.
You, who managed to pick up his broken pieces as he lamented.
You, who brought a sense of comfort like no other.
You, who always mysteriously disappeared in the end, forgotten by him.
“Zayne?” a surprise gasp left your lips.
His fingers remained wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from walking out of his life for the umpteenth time.
The setting sun accentuated your silhouette, as if emphasising the answer he had blindly missed in every other timeline.
“Am I Astra's punishment for you?”
And you, condemned to stay by his side, an unattainable man whose eyes and life were always set on another woman.
“What exactly is His punishment to you?” he pleaded, begging to understand.
He would be damned if he let you vanish again this time, not when he had finally found the one he was destined to be with.
A pang of remorse washed over him as he heard your answer: “To be the fleeting pillar for the man who never looks my way, destined to forget me eventually.”
Just like him, you bore different personas in every alternate universe.
While everyone had forgotten the Foreseer and the Tower of Thorns, they had also forgotten about you—the only other person who had befriended the Foreseer and kept him company in his loneliness.
It was your laughter that thawed the icy hallways of the tower, just to be silenced once a woman intent on stealing the Creatio Protocore arrived.
He then remembered the surviving nurse, living in the same decaying city as Dawnbreaker, patching him up after every chaotic fight with the Abomination and Wanderers, and comforting him as he washed away Georgie's blood from his hands.
“Every time she appears, your memory of me will fade,” you whispered, eyes searching his in disbelief. “How have you not forgotten about me now?”
Oh, how bittersweet it was to continually forget the one who first taught your heart to love.
Unable to resist any longer, Zayne tugged you into his embrace, fearing that you might slip away.
In his arms, you fit perfectly, like the last chapter of a series, completing him.
“How could you remain so kind, when all I ever did was take, and take, and take from you?” The growing lump in his throat nearly choked him.
“If anyone needs a shoulder to lean on, it's you, Zayne. I've never regretted being there for you.” With a gentle touch, your palm came to rest on his heart. “There must be a reason I'm meant to stay by your side, even if it’s momentary.”
For the first time, he felt warm. A different kind of warmth that spread through him like a soft flame kindling deep within his heart.
“All my life, I've always set my sight on the wrong woman. My punishment is to be separated from you, not her.” Gazing at your eyes, bright with unshed tears, was like a punch to his sternum. “I wish you hated me now.”
“Why?” you murmured.
Lifting your chin, he lowered his gaze to your lips, closing the distance between you slowly. “Because then you’ll push me away, knowing that I am unworthy of this.”
And as your eyes fluttered closed instead, mouth already anticipating his, every fibre of restraint shattered.
Both of your lips locked without hesitation, releasing pure longing that had been confined for so long, now unleashed in a wave of intense emotions.
The world dissolved into the intoxicating sensation of lips moulding together. One of his arms pulled at your waist, fingers gripping your curve, drawing you even nearer.
He realised right then and there that he would never have enough of your taste.
“Do you think this is Astra’s wicked scheme? That you still remember me after all this time, yet impending misfortune awaits us?” Traces of doubt were evident in your hushed whisper, lips lightly brushing with his still.
“Astra be damned.” The condemning words rumbled deeply from his chest, causing you to look at him in surprise.
“He may test me, but he’ll not take you away from me. Never again.” Strong hands cradled your face, trailing gentle kisses from your forehead, down to your nose, and finally to your lips. “As long as I draw breath, I'll spend every moment fighting for you.”
In every possible timeline, he had loved you first, and in this moment, his love for you remained unwavering.
⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST
#ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐱𝐞𝐩𝐡'𝐬 writing nook#love and deepspace#lads#l&ds#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace x y/n#love and deepspace x you#zayne#zayne x reader#zayne x y/n#zayne x you#fluff
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NOPE
NO
NO THANK YOU
I don't like the way those are lining up AT ALL.
"Broken free of the shackles of natural law"
We've heard/seen Zayne be referenced as "shackled" at least 3 times before at this point. By Raymond, by the 'Narrator' ("remains shackled to time"), and in reference to the Foreseer myth. This makes the 4th. I genuinely hurt every single time the story so heavy handidly reminds me that Zayne really is a dog on a chain. The Foreseer robes even have a LITERAL collar of thorns over the neck of it ffs. It's painful to watch at this point and it breaks my heart.
"Why persuade Zayne? What he really needs is a pair of hands. Ones that can carry out God's mission and allow for God's descent."
Between this, and the one below of-
"At least he has another option. His last one"
I'm torn on which one is referencing Astra. On one hand, Astra really could be a modern made "God". An elevated man of great power, someone Zayne turned to in his 11th hour to try and save MC (though we all know how that turned out, unfortunately). It would seem that Xander Sciences is playing at God, and if we know anything about the sci-fi scene, it's that human experimentation ALWAYS ends up going ~soooo well~ and nothing ever goes wrong there 👀
On the other hand, the "last option" really gets my gut feeling going. My theorist brain is telling me Zayne is gonna go full Warlock pact and make a deal with an entity in exchange for MC's life. Only it's gonna go tits up and be a Fey pact, and because we all know how MC and he end up, clearly Zayne did NOT read the fine print (or more likely, Zayne thought he could out maneuver the rules). Ever since I read the Mt Eternal anecdote and realized the Tower and Mt Eternal are in the same location, I could not shake the feeling that Zayne already has made contact with whatever "Astra" is. Be it a very powerful person, an actual God, or someone else entirely different (like another time traveler, such as Xavier and the backtrackers). We know he's traveling back there multiple times by himself, conducting research of an unknown variety, that only he and Dr. Noah are privy to. I'm just saying if ever there was a cover up for having contact with a supernatural being/aliens/a God, that's a really fucking good one.
Whatever it is, this new lore drop has really really spelled out in big bold letters, that Zayne is thought of as a tool by a LOT of people. Xander Sciences, Astra, even the Dean of the medical academy had a moment there. My poor man even thinks of himself as a tool, one that is meant to save MC (from himself he even says at one point 😭😭😭 like oh my God Zayne stoppppp). He literally considers himself expendable so long as he saves her. Once he's done his job and secured her future, even if that means passing on the ability to save her to someone else, he's fine laying down his life for that.
And that's seriously the saddest part of this whole fucking game imo.
#lnds#love and deepspace#zayne#lads#l&ds#love & deepspace#zayne love and deepspace#love and deepspace zayne#lore and theories#i'll revisit this tomorrow but it's 4 am and my brain is buzzing with way too much information#i need to re-read everything 10× to make sure im understanding it all ACK
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a short patch timeline on reverse 1999
So I've been going back and forth for almost a year now on comprehending and helping people comprehend the timeline in Reverse: 1999 because oh my god, it's so, so convoluted that it's still taking a long time for me to even write down the information without overexplaining it. And that's just the main story.
However, I've been able to piece together the timeline events by patch and chapter to make things easier for everyone. (...unless you want me to even include the anecdotes, which is another can of worms I'd like to not open.)
However, since 2.0 forwards will be taking place after 1.9, I won't be including the patch names. But, I will put their placements in the timeline without making specific notes to avoid spoilers.
I'd like to first note that 1.6 (Notes on Shuori) has no definite placement on the timeline. The reason why is that 1.6 is personally considered a timeline anomaly; there are plot holes and information that made it difficult to deduce when it took place. (i.e. Yenisei's origins, Getian's character story, Bessmert's* presence) For now, I will leave this out.
Additionally, a lot of the character stories take place between the past and the future. Thus, the character story that chronologically takes place the earliest by far is Lucy's while the latest would be Ezra's.
—
First of all, we start with 1.8 (Farewell, Rayashki) in its entirety. From Windsong's past, to her arrival in Rayashki, to when the second "Storm" took place, and Vila and the kids needed to adjust to this new normal.
Next is Chapter 3 (Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien) and Chapter 5's interchapter. (The Star) Both the story of Vertin's becoming of the Timekeeper, and Greta Hofmann's experience with the Apeiron group are both aligned. Greta even mentions Vertin in her log after returning to the Foundation.
Afterwards we skip to 4 years later, and we're now in 1966. (Post First "Storm") Three events occur here. First, 1.1, (Theft of the Rimet Cup) then 1.3, (Journey to Mor Pankh) and then finally, the Prologue of our story. (This is Tomorrow)
Its then quite straightforward afterwards. We immediately follow up with the first 4 Chapters taking us through 1929 to late 1913. Then afterwards, we have Chapters 5-7 taking place within the first 3 weeks of January 1914, and then we're immediately taken to August 1990 at the end of Chapter 7.
I'd like to also add that within those 3 chapters, both rougelikes (Echoes in the Mountains and Series of Dusks) took place within the same time. Although, Series of Dusks ends before Chapter 7 due to Semmelweis and Lorelei leaving with the Foundation right before the "Storm" hit.
Now, in 1990, we start with 1.2 (Nightmare at Green Lake) followed by patches 2.0-2.2, all of which take place in immediate succession. And then for now, we end with 1.5. (Revival! Of the Uluru Games)
So if I put all of these in one list, it looks like this:
Notes on Shuori (1.6) - Undetermined placement
Farewell, Rayashki (1.8) - 1999+1 (1996) -> 1999+2 (1985)
Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien + The Star (Ch. 3 and Ch. 5 Interchapter) - 1999+4 (1987)
Theft of the Rimet Cup (1.1) - March 1966
Journey to Mor Pankh (1.3) - April-May 1966
This is Tomorrow (Prologue) - Jun. 3 1966 -> Feb. 14 1929
In Our Time (Ch. 1) - Feb. 14 1929
Tender is the Night (Ch. 2) - Feb. 15 1929 -> Aug. 1913
Nouvelles et Textes pour Rien (Ch. 3 - Present Time) - Aug. 25 1913
El Oro de Los Tigres (Ch. 4) - Aug. 26 -> Oct. 10 1913
Prisoner in The Cave (Ch. 5) - Dec. 24 - Jan. 4 1914
The Star (Ch. 5 - Interchapter) - Jan. 4 1914
Echoes in the Mountain (Rougelike 1) - Undetermined time, before Jan. 8 1914
E lucevan le Stelle (Ch. 6) - Jan. 6-12 1914
Series of Dusks (Rougelike 2) - Jan. 8-13 1914
Vereinsamt (Ch. 7) - Jan. 12-13 1914 -> Aug. 1990
Nightmare of Green Lake (1.2) - Sept. - Oct. 1990
Patches 2.0 - 2.2 - Sept. - Nov. 1990
Revival! Of the Uluru Games (1.5) - Jan 1991
The story can only get even more convoluted from here. As of the moment, I've been sort of working on a larger timeline to piece the entire story together, especially since we've yet to finish it before the story ends. New stories and information continuously flows in the meantime.
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Not really adding anything to this post by putting another personal anecdote on it, so link.
This is the Sense of Impending Doom post again, and Joy adds in an excellent description of that feeling. Thank goodness for smart people because I sure as hell wouldn't be able to describe it myself.
-
So, when I had the Sense of Impending Doom I started begging to go to the ER (too out of it already to think to just call an ambulance the first time he refused).
When I finally got there three days later (it's a feeling of "It's Coming" not "It's Here", oddly enough, and now I understand how cats know when to go find a quiet place to die), I calmly told the lady at the desk that I thought I was septic, she took one look at me standing there and then had someone come and get me immediately. As far as I know, That Guy gave her my info. I don't remember saying anything to her other than my name and the single word "sepsis".
Then the other nurse asked me if I needed a wheelchair. It took me a bit to process what I was being asked. I could barely think at that point.
I slowly walked to the exam room, laid down, the doctor came in and I calmly told her what I was going through, how long I'd had a fever, that I hadn't eaten or drank much in a week, that I thought it was a uterine infection and why. She immediately put me on IV antibiotics and fluids and rushed me to a CT scan, found the kidney infection and stones, etc. etc.
The whole time I was Very Calm. The whole time, as far as I knew, I was already dead and I was determined to stay on my feet until I couldn't anymore for some reason. That's just kind of how I've always been, I guess.
I knew for certain I was not going home that night, one way or the other.
Even then That Guy wouldn't listen to me and take Son home. He was still waiting in the ER expecting they'd give me a pat on the head and send me home.
Either way, my point is that I didn't really think about how deadpan calm I was until Joy mentioned it, likely because I'm ALWAYS like that during an emergency and then have a panic attack later. I did not have a panic attack, though. I had meds.
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Just Right
And here we are, at the end of Jamil’s Goldilocks journey (yes I've been waiting to make that joke ever since I figured out what the title for this last part should be). You can find the earlier parts here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.
It was still early morning, yet Jamil was awake, watching you sleep next to him. A soft smile pulled on his lips - no matter how many times he saw you like this, Jamil couldn’t help the way the sight tugged at his heartstrings.
You, in the bed you shared with Jamil. Comfortable, vulnerable - as natural as could be.
It was still hard for Jamil to shake the mortification when he thought of those early days with you. The way he had fought against it every step of the way, as if he could’ve somehow escaped his feelings just by denying them.
Yet, here he was.
By your side, sharing his life with you.
And all those things Jamil had not even allowed himself to think of back then now freely filled his mind.
Jamil still felt like he could drown in your eyes, when you looked at him with that particular fondness. Yet he basked in it, too, reveling in the warmth of your affection whenever he could. A sweet distraction, pulling him from the daily humdrum to the honeyed cocoon of just the two of you.
Though, to be fair, he did have a similar effect on you. Jamil’s smile widened, thinking of how you'd hide your face against his chest, too flustered and overwhelmed by your emotions to be face to face with him.
It really was too adorable. Too sweet.
So powerful.
Of course, there were so many other versions of you that he adored. The confident one, the happy one, the playful one, the one who looked at him with vulnerable surprise… Oh, Jamil loved it when he could catch you off-guard, whether it was with his affection or a bit of mischief.
All those different parts of you, firmly imprinted on him.
Indeed, ever since those early days you had carved out a corner for yourself in Jamil’s mind, in his heart, until eventually you’d taken residence in every part of him. Jamil hardly dared to think of just how much he would lose if he were to lose you, so tightly was his life intertwined with yours.
So was it really any wonder that thoughts of you were just another part of the background noise of his mind? All those mundane things: preparing breakfast in that particular way you liked, you being the first person he thought of sharing any news or anecdotes with, picking something up from the shops just because he knew you would like it - all these thoughts, the consideration for you, inseparably weaving in with his own wants and plans. Not in a suffocating, demanding way, but simply because you belonged to the forefront of his mind.
Of course, it was not only his mind that regarded you as a self-evident part of his life. His hands sought you whenever you were within reach, the warmth of your body against his always a balm. Your touches, your kisses… Sometimes inconvenient, Jamil had to admit, but never unwelcome. The physical contact was just so natural, just another facet of your shared existence. Fleeting touches in the busy hours of the day, melting into each other when you had the time to just be - or simply carving out that time when either of you needed it.
The closeness of bodies and hearts, making itself known time and again.
Indeed, all those fantasies Jamil had had, full of flutter and yearning, really could not compare to the depth and breadth of the real thing. There were so many small - and big - things he hadn’t even known to anticipate. Yet now there was a whole collection of them, picked up over the years, so many things that would not hold any meaning to anyone else but you two. Full meanings conveyed in half-words - or, sometimes, just in wordless noises or meaningful glances, all calling back to shared memories or the understanding you'd built.
It was not like Jamil would ever be done learning of you, finding out all those depths within you. Yet, he was certain he knew you, on such a deep level - and the way you knew him in turn, anticipating his next move, reading his mind, sometimes nearly frightened him. It almost felt like you had your personal spotlight on Jamil, always watching him, and there was a part of him, clinging to old habits, that sometimes simply wished to fade back into the background instead of being fully exposed to you.
Not that Jamil ever truly wanted to stray from your warmth, even as you pulled out those parts of him that he himself hadn’t seen - or didn’t want to see. After all, you weren’t above speaking your mind when you felt the need - yet, oddly enough, even in disagreements you seemed so invested in Jamil.
And that was what set Jamil’s heart aflutter more than anything else, the weight of it nearly suffocating when he thought of it. How you were all in for him, for you two together. How much you had given, how much you had fought… Oh, he could hardly breathe, thinking of it.
And here you were, still. The most desirable thing in this world, fast asleep by his side.
In those early days Jamil’s want for you had been such a turbulent, tempestuous thing. Nowadays, he couldn’t say he wanted you any less - in any sense of the word. The feelings had simply morphed, turning into a deeper, steadier current - but one still with the power to overwhelm him and drag him to the depths.
However, finally, Jamil had learned how to withstand those currents. Fighting them, denying your pull… It truly had been a fool’s errand. Riding with the waves, steering his course was the only way he could make it - but only once he allowed himself to be carried by the flow.
The sound of you stirring brought Jamil back from his musings.
Your eyes barely opened - indeed, you seemed to be at least half-asleep still. Jamil couldn’t help his smile at the sight.
“Isn’t it early?” you mumbled, turning around to sluggishly throw an arm around Jamil.
“It is,” Jamil murmured softly and brushed his lips against your temple. “Get some more sleep, ya qamar.”
You made a soft sound, already drifting back to sleep - safe and sound in Jamil’s arms.
Just as you should be.
Hope y’all enjoy the heaping of fluff - and that you have liked the whole series, too 😊 Also fun fact: I basically went through the earlier parts, pulling out Jamil’s unfinished thoughts and other poignant bits, and built this on top of those. Like sure this went through edits and it's not just one on one on those, but still. Was a kinda fun way of constructing this chapter. Also also: I’m kinda tempted to ramble about my thought process behind this whole series, so if that’s of interest, let me know! ETA: thought process rambles can be found here. With all these water themes this really could have the makings of a jamiazu fic as well, huh? Want to get tagged for my future works? Just let me know and I'd be happy to do so.
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The Affair - Chapter 2 (Larissa/Reader)
Hello everyone, here's the second installment to this little fic. Writing has been slow-going but the kind comments I got on chapter 1 both here and on AO3 were a great motivation to put in the work when I had the time and brainpower to do so. Hope you enjoy!
Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature Tags: Alcohol consumption, Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Seduction, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader, Power Imbalance.
AO3 link in title below
< Previous Chapter - Next Chapter (tbc)
Chapter 2 - Private Booth
“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.” She murmured in your ear and you heard a breathy laugh exiting your mouth, feeling as if it came from miles away.
You weren’t sure how the evening had evolved to this point, if you had to be perfectly honest. You were sure you both had been the picture of professionality at the start of your dinner together, sitting primly at the table in the private booth, ordering a light meal and talking about lesson plans and your previous work experiences.
You had been nervous, but except for the unusual setting, it hadn’t been that different from countless other meetings you’d had with principals. And, you mused as you took a bite of your salad, to be honest you appreciated having this conversation over food for once instead than in a stuffy office.
Was it some sort of cultural difference that outcasts had? Or was it a peculiarity of the woman sitting in front of you? She seemed like someone who was more than able to disregard rules if she wanted to.
You found yourself liking that, despite your usual aversion for rule breaking.
Then…then Larissa (she had asked you to call her Larissa at some point, you were sure of that) Larissa had offered to share a bottle of wine “to toast together at a fruitful collaboration” and you had had half a mind to turn the offer down, but found yourself agreeing. Why the hell not? It had been ages since you drank some good wine, and your principal looked like the kind of woman who’d only choose good alcohol.
“You have great taste,” you had commented, sipping on your first glass, and it had been at that moment that you had felt the energy in the booth starting to shift. She had dabbed her mouth on her napkin, and let her eyes roam over your figure for a handful of seconds more than it was polite to do before replying, “Oh of course. I very rarely lose my time when it’s not worth it.” Her lips had curved up in a smirk and you had had to take another sip of that wine to give time to your suddenly galloping heart to slow down a bit. Surely she was still talking about the wine, wasn’t she?
But then the conversation had moved on and you thought you had imagined the flirty undertone. Surely she wouldn’t be the type to do something like that, would she? Even if you hadn’t actively sought out gossip, surely you would have heard if Nevermore’s principal was a serial seducer, right?
Larissa had been an extremely pleasant conversationalist, and often you found yourself invested in the latest anecdote from one of her travels, or her opinion on one subject or another. You laughed at her recounting of the antics of her students, and were amazed at the lavish traditions of Nevermore that she insisted on educating you on.
You could have listened to her talk all night long, looking at how her face danced with emotions, how the passion she had for her job and her loyalty to her school shone in her voice as well as her eyes. And the way she ran her tongue against her teeth every now and then had you completely mesmerized. You were hanging on her lips and had given up feeling self conscious about it. You wanted to know more about this mysterious lady. You wanted to know all that she’d be willing to tell you.
And you were acutely aware that you still hadn’t discovered what exactly had happened that had left her for several months on sick leave. The students talked of an attack of undead to the school but you were sure those were exaggerations, and that there was a less…fanciful explanation. Teenagers are known for making a big deal out of small mundanities. Even taking that into account, it seemed like mysteries surrounded this woman, wrapping around her like the subtle yet lingering scent of her perfume.
“You smell amazing.” You had blurted out, and almost clapped a hand over your own mouth, horrified at your sudden boldness. That was not something to say to your boss who apparently still had the power to fire you if she somehow found you lacking!
But she hadn’t bristled, nor had she seemed in any way angry or offended. She had simply chuckled lightly, and busied herself with swirling wine inside her glass with slow, hypnotic movements.
“Thank you, dear. It’s Ambre Nuit, by Dior, obviously.”
“...Obviously.” You had parroted back, even though you knew nothing about perfumes and even less about Dior. Your eyes were glued to her hand, still cradling the bowl of the wine glass. You had not noticed until now just how long and tapered and beautiful her fingers were. How effortlessly they curled on the glass shoulder to loosely swirl its contents. A part of you wondered how those hands would feel on your body.
“You know? You could smell it even better if you came to sit beside me…there’s plenty of space on this bench…” her voice had trailed off, and it might have been the wine coursing in your system, but this time you felt like you could almost taste the promises in her voice.
And that’s how you had found yourself squeezed besides her on the bench, your thigh pressed against hers, the fabric of her dress and of your trousers the only thing separating your skin from making contact with hers. You were acutely aware of how dimmed the lights had been in the private booth, and how the waiters had stopped coming around after they had delivered your desserts.
A perfect setup, suggested the romantic part of your brain, a part that was often overlooked and laid dormant in the day to day routine.
A perfect trap, countered the more cynical part, who couldn't help but wonder how many times had the beautiful woman beside you put on this show for her latest prey.
It just all seemed so effortless for her. She mixed her flirting (it had to be flirting by now, right?) with more easygoing topics, she kept topping your glass off with that lovely wine, as well as drinking just as much herself. One part red flag, one part irresistible temptation.
And it was at that point that she had leaned over, and you had felt her breath hot on your ear, and you were sure you had drank way too much wine because just that little puff of air made your skin erupt in goosebumps and your head spin.
“I must admit this is highly unprofessional of me, but I cannot help but find you incredibly alluring, darling.”
“I must be dreaming” you said before your common sense could stop you, the tingling of your giggle still in your throat.
But not even in your wildest dreams could you have imagined how her hand felt as it fell on your thigh, light as a feather, but making your skin burn white hot even through the fabric..
“Well I suppose I’ll have to pinch you then.”
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Want more? Here's my fanfiction masterlist
Taglist: @barbarasstar @peggycarter3 @aemilia19
#dianneking writes#dianneking fanfiction#dragonmist fanfiction#larissa weems fanfiction#gwendoline christie fanfiction#larissa weems#gwendoline christie#larissa weems x you#larissa weems x reader#larissa weems fanfic#larissa weems x y/n#netflix wednesday
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October Sun
summary: Wally had had no idea what he'd been looking at. Had barely had a reaction to it apart from subtle feelings of anxiety. In fact, it hadn't inspired anything more than a shrug and the thought of, "Neat. It's a tree."
pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader
warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.
bon reading, frens
___________________________💀
OCTOBER SUN pt.16
Group adjourned with Mr. Martin's instruction to pick anything but Rudy for tomorrow's Movie Night. Maddie split almost immediately; in pursuit of another lead or to stalk Mr. Anderson, Wally wasn't sure, but once he heard the door click behind her, he sagged in relief.
Too soon, he realized. When he looked up he saw Rhonda bolt from her seat and cut through the center of the circle like a shark through water, Charley on her heels.
"What was that?" She challenged, sizing the length of Wally up with a wave of her bare lollipop stem.
"What was what?"
Charley squinted at him, quickly scanned about before he leaned in and furtively said, "Oh, I don't know. How about that monstrosity of a performance you just forced us to participate in?"
Wally gulped, "I—"
"Spare us the crap, puppycat," Rhonda snipped, "We've seen each other's transcripts."
"I saw him misspell fundraiser," Charley added in a mockery of an anecdote Wally had shared during the session. And then, accusingly, "I know you know what a pun looks like."
Wally found himself on the back foot, mind going blank as he groped for an explanation that hedged the truth enough to get him out of Charley and Rhonda's crosshairs, but that didn't expose that he'd already known about the phone call and Mr. Anderson and the hush money.
"I was just...Uh..."
Unfortunately, Charley and Rhonda were too damn smart and your skill of inventing plausible excuses on the spot hadn't yet rubbed off on him. Inwardly, he reinforced his defenses and prepared for the Spanish Inquisition (nobody expects it).
"Wally," Rhonda said, blade-sharp, and Wally winced at her use of his actual name, "I know you think it's sweet to play clueless meathead in front of your crush—"
Oh. Okay. Sure. "That's—"
"—but, trust me, it doesn't work. Don't dumb yourself down just to get her to like you." Rhonda finished with a long-suffering roll of her eyes. An action that translated to mother-hen affection in a normal person.
"Besides," Charley said, a slack hint of sass to his syllables, "I think she just wants to figure things out. Not play tonsil hockey with a ghost who probably shared biology with the teacher that murdered her."
Wally tried to make his face react appropriately, had no idea if he pulled it off, but Charley and Rhonda didn't comment so he assumed it couldn't have been too bad.
"I don't think Mr. A is that old," Wally mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "But...thanks, guys."
He had to acknowledge that it was nice that his friends cared about him. That they saw him as more than the overexcited golden retriever they often criticized him of being and wanted to make sure he wasn't trying to people-please his way into someone's heart.
Charley's expression mollified, "Anytime, big guy."
In feigned bitterness, "Well, I've done my good deed for the day," Rhonda announced, pushing past Wally to head for the door, "Let's go."
Wally turned as if to follow her, however, he caught Ajay's eye before he could commit to the action. He remembered then what Ajay had told him in the teacher's lounge about showing Wally something he 'needed to see'.
"I'll catch up in a bit," He called after Charley and Rhonda, backstepping toward Ajay to make his intentions obvious.
Charley shot Wally a lazy salute, "We'll be in the library for a while," and then turned on his heel to trail after Rhonda.
After decades of being in each other's pockets, it wasn't uncommon for members of their haunt to seek time one-on-one with each other. Everyone respected the unspoken exclusivity without comment and was especially understanding toward Wally, who had been the only teenage guy amongst them until 1992.
Bernie and Katelynn greeted Wally as he approached Ajay, though soon took their leave, Katelynn with a small and bashful, "See ya, Wally."
"Bye Katy-Cat." He said through a charming smile, ruffling her hair when she came into reach.
Katelynn shoved his arm away playfully, blowing Wally a raspberry before she continued over to the empty circle, immediately setting to work helping Mr. Martin and Bernie stack the chairs.
Wally turned back to Ajay, "Alright, my guy, where to?"
They exited through the side door, sunlight temporarily blinding Wally after having spent an hour sitting in the poorly lit assembly hall. Not giving Wally's eyes a chance to adjust, Ajay took him by the elbow and physically maneuvered him in the right direction.
"It won't seem like much," Ajay said as if in warning, "so you need to trust me." He released Wally's elbow when Wally began to move under his own power, and hurried his stride.
"I do trust you," Wally replied, voice bouncing as he picked up his pace to match Ajay's. "Whatever you're gonna show me, it's gotta be important."
Ajay's ears reddened. "Thank you."
They were headed toward the tree line along the backside of the school, the field spread out to Wally's right. Down the steps, along the path, picnic tables and chainlink fence. Cheerleaders practiced their pyramid and the junior gym class played kickball.
Anxiety began to creep over Wally as they neared the boundary line, a slow and subtle discharge of fear frequency transmitting across his brain in a cold flush.
"Heeey, are you sure this is the right way?" Wally had to ask, his skin starting to feel clammy and too tight on the bones of his fingers. He began to slow his steps, afraid of being circus-canoned back to the 5-yard line, but Ajay plowed ahead without concern. "Dude?"
Wally almost rammed into him for how abruptly Ajay stopped, the toes of Ajay's shoes so close to the invisible line it gave Wally heart palpitations.
"There." Ajay said, pointing at a tree that stood approximately two meters beyond the school grounds.
The tree wasn't anything special. Tall, leafy, burled in various places up its trunk, and roots weaved and whorled around its base, some thick enough to sit on comfortably. Carved initials and numbers and heart shapes by students who'd wanted to immortalize their memory in its bark. It was the kind of thing one would expect from a tree in a private area near a building full of teenagers, really.
"What am I looking at?" Wally asked.
"I don't know what it means, so don't ask me," Ajay stated, clearly preempting that Wally would have questions after whatever Ajay was preparing to demonstrate. Ajay crouched to gather a stone from the ground, "Watch this."
He tossed the stone. It smacked the tree, dislodging a piece of loose bark from the center of a crooked heart—bullseye—and fell without fanfare into a nest of roots, a thin poof of dirt raised on impact.
Wally waited for something to happen. And waited. A n d waited.
"I don't get it." He said after a few uneventful beats. "Was something supposed to happen?"
"It did happen." Ajay insisted, bending to pick up another stone.
That one, he handed to Wally and motioned for him to throw it at the tree. It hit, denting the bark, but again, that was the end of it. Wally peered up at the leaves—unruffled—then down at the roots—inert—and finally back at Ajay who pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Watch this." He commanded, scooping up another stone as he marched a few feet away. "Are you paying attention?" He asked, not unkindly; an earnest bid for Wally's focus.
Wally gave him a tight smile, "Yup," and a thumbs up, taking a few steps closer to prove the point.
Ajay flung the stone. Except, this time, it ricocheted back as soon as it pierced the barrier. Disappeared for a blink and then spat back out, flying in the reverse direction. Ajay threw his arms up and protected his face a split-second before the stone struck him, bouncing off his forearm to land with a thud at his feet.
Wally's jaw dropped, "What the shit?"
"Do you get it now?" Ajay questioned, dusting off his hands as he strolled back to Wally.
With a frown, "Sort of?" Wally reached for the barrier, not quite touching for fear of what could happen and where he'd end up, but just enough to feel its presence warm the palm of his hand. "I guess it would be too easy if we could go through, huh?"
"I attempted it a couple of times," Ajay shook his head, "Either way, the barrier is definitely weakest here. And," He paused, building suspense, "At four other points around the school."
Eyes fixed on the tree, Wally hypothesized, "If we figure out how to weaken it more at any of these points, we might be able to get out of here..."
"We just might," Ajay concurred, "I tried finding information in the library and the computer lab, but—" It was a Christian school board, he didn't have to say, and occult topics were heavily vetted.
There weren't likely to be any useful books available and the online network was limited, browsers blocking sites the school didn't want its students to visit. Wally's knowledge of the latter was an embarrassing smear on his reputation that he'd had to beg Charley to keep secret.
He shoved the memory back in its box and once more buried it in the darkest recesses of his mind.
Never again...
"You think my girl would know how to handle this?" Wally asked despite having already determined he was going to tell you about the barrier's weak points. He just wanted to make sure Ajay was aware and on board.
Ajay shrugged, "She certainly has access to more resources than we do. Couldn't hurt to mention it."
It was settled. Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine, Wally broke his scrutiny of the tree and turned to Ajay.
"Alright, then, show me what we're working with."
💀___________________________
PART FIFTEEN - PART SEVENTEEN
also available on AO3!
MASTERLIST
#Milo Manheim#Wally Clark#Wally Clark x Reader#fem!reader#Wally Clark smut#Wally Clark fanfiction#Milo Manheim fanfiction#School Spirits#zed necrodopolis#Disney Zombies#October Sun
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Ok no I'm not done being weird yet, here's another idea for the marriage canon event stuff
Miguel and other Spiders are getting on your ass about, "oh, how old are you now? Why aren't you looking for a husband yet? Why are you spending so much time here?" And are, you know, your friends who love you and for your own good are trying to get you to complete your canon so you, you know, LIVE, but the way you see it is, being forced to do something like that and sacrifice yourself like that isn't living. You're not going to actively pursue and seek out a relationship, you want one to happen naturally, and nothing has felt natural to you and you're afraid of being hurt like that, of being rejected, of opening yourself up to someone and not being good enough, but, O'Hara and the Society don't really want to hear that. It's escalating over time. Little comments here and there, people randomly interjecting their personal anecdotes about their family and their kids into the conversation, "oh this is just like when me and Mary Jane--" "oh my kid loves this flavor, she gets so excited, I like to be naughty and get her these as a treat"
So you reach the point where you're fed up. This is so massively fucking inappropriate of them. There's no "set age" for this kind of thing so why are they harassing you like this, acting like, oh, you gotta hurry and pursue shit right now, it's for your own good? It's just pissing you off and pushing you away. You love traveling to different dimensions and exploring new places and experiencing things that are literally out of this world but if the trade-off for that is constantly being badgered with this stupid narrative of having to sacrifice yourself, you'll happily go home and break canon and die, because at least you'll be truly living and making a choice
So anyways to get to the meat of this post: you've decided you're leaving the Spider Society and you're not going to talk to any of these bitches anymore, just haven't fully decided on when, but like, you're literally thinking within the next week, but you're still, there. And one day you're in the lobby, trying to stand around because you're supposed to go on some sort of stupid assignment, Peter B and Jess with you, the parents talking about baby stuff as you roll your eyes and Peter suspiciously needs you to keep holding Mayday until you're literally refusing, "just put her on the ground or something, you let her climb on walls and shit anyways"
And because you're in the lobby, this big open space with tons of people passing through, suddenly in walks Miguel with. Another Miguel, completely unrelated to the mission you and the others are about to do, kind of just bumping into each other as they pass through. Miguel2 just got scouted by his counterpart that he met during chasing an anomaly, and they're getting to know each other, and at some point Miguel2 is like "can my wife come too 🥺👉👈 she's also a Spider and I can't be here without her" and everyone is a little confused because there's supposed to be the whole only 'one Spider per dimension' rule besides like family, like Peter and Mayday, and you'll just never guess whose alternate universe variant is his wife :) another you comes bounding in wearing casual baggy clothes but looks so radiant and happy, all "hubby 🥰" as she kisses her husband, you're just awkwardly sending glances to 'your' Miguel as you two are, understandably feeling awkward because, you're, coworkers, and here are two people who look exactly like you being all lovey dovey "princesa 🥰" "guapito 🥰"
This other you just seems so, VIBRANT and she's introducing herself and shaking hands and she sees Peter B, "oh my god you have a baby, I'm so happy for you, she's so cute!" And she's hugging him, and you watch Peter B's eyes go kind of wide and he looks down, "OH, you're like--" and Other You just kind of laughs and parts her coat, showing off her rounded tummy, "haha yeah, there's a baby in there! Number 3, we're so excited! 🥰" and you're just. Simultaneously feeling some sort of fucked up combination of the most visceral and extreme discomfort you've ever felt in your entire life and also some kind of. Envy. Because she has everything you thought you didn't want and she seems so, SO fucking happy, with a husband who loves her, she clearly loves her babies, and she's being accepted by all of your friends instantly, like they're all gathered around talking as you're just, basically on the outside of the circle, actively putting up distance, only standing around because, uh hey guys weren't we supposed to be doing something--
Your skin is crawling as Other You uses her own watch from her husband to zip back to her own dimension and comes back with her babies on each hip, twins that she's just so happy to introduce to her new friends, who are SUPPOSED to be YOUR friends, "THIS one is Gabriella, and this one is Gabriel. Aren't they so cute? 🥰 theyre both so chunky they almost killed me but it was SO worth it" And once she realizes you're you, or, you're her, she wants to immediately chat you up and be buddy-buddy and goes to hand one of her babies to you and you. Refuse. Absolutely refuse. Suddenly you're the pariah of the group, both Miguels are sending you looks. Why are you being so fucking rude? Just put your arms out??? But you won't. You're just, soul-suckingly disgusted by this entire scenario. Not only is it putting an unspoken pressure onto you, but, seeing this other you be so fucking happy AND accomplishing all the things your "friends" have been badgering you about makes you feel SO indescribably insecure
Fine. Let it be like a revolving door. Another you enters Spider Society, one of you leaves. But you're so bitter and hurt you can't help but get in a jab at her, wanting to tarnish her "fake" happiness, feeling so personally hurt and offended by her very presence and existence in the room. "Hey so wouldn't your babies also be Spiders and have to suffer through the canon events too? And since you don't have any other family members, your kids' canon events might be YOU or Miguel dying? Aren't you glad you gave birth to your kids only to die and leave them without a mom and dad and forever doom them to a narrative where they can never make their own choices and are cosmically destined to be unhappy just because YOU wanted a cute baby? Sorry I guess I'm just built different. Hey remember how when we were little girls and we used to feel like mom only gave birth to us because she wanted someone who would love her and we resented her for bringing us into the world to have such a harsh life, aren't you so happy that's EXACTLY how your kids are going to feel about YOU?"
Mom!You is instantly bursting into tears and holding her little belly for comfort as her husband looks ready to tear you to ribbons, FURIOUS, all the healthy people in the room understandably disappointed and upset with you, like what the FUCK girl, meanwhile you're opening up a portal to your home dimension and just chucking your watch straight into the floor. "Keep this. I won't be coming back" while everyone is kind of dismissive of how truly upset you are, kind of just like "come on, don't be like this 🙄" like you're throwing a tantrum when in actuality you're going home and are seriously considering selling Osborne or Doc Ock all of your radioactive eggs. You'll always be YOU before you're a Spider, and if they want to force you to put The Job above yourself your entire life, they're dead wrong.
Meanwhile after you leave, pulling each other aside for privacy, Miguel2 is asking your Miguel why he's risking breaking his own canon by not wife-ing you up yet and comparing notes from all of the other dimensions where you and him are together as your Miguel is shocked by the sheer number of same occurrences. Miguel is all on about, "what does this even mean, we're from entirely different dimensions", and Miguel2 over here just unapologetically, "so? My wife is also from another dimension, I just took her, she got used to it, it's totally fine bro, it's canon, just do it, just do whatever you want. it's fine bro I'M TELLING YOU--" and maybe even Mom!You is so, sucked into her own "it's ok I was initially forced into this because I'm happy now" world that she's even advocating, "oh gosh if I was her I'd be SO lonely, hearing how you two aren't even that close, especially not anymore, and you've all been avoiding her, and she doesn't even have a baby to care for and give her love 🥺 most 'me's are at least dating right now, so, i bet she's feeling so much pain, she NEEDS YOU right now 🥺"
Peter B is sent to give you another watch and tell you, it's ok, you can come back, they promise they're not gonna bug you about dating and stuff anymore, and you're just all "nah, I'm ok! :) you can keep it :) I've had enough of you guys :) dont let the door hit your ass on the way out :)" meanwhile Miguel 1 and 2 are comparing strategies, "see, when MY wife was refusing to come back to me, what I did was..."
#yandere spiderverse#yandere miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#like maybe hes always felt drawn to you and was holding himself back and then he learns youre canon and like?#hes like Oh Ok so theres a reason im like this. its totally normal and ok i feel this way :) and its like nah dude youre a lil crazy...
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Moral
I'M BACK
Yandere!Chuuya x Reader
English is not my mother tongue, sorry for the mistakes
summary: Chuuya is not a good person, and neither are you.
tw: angst¿, mention of murders, toxic relationship, low self-esteem, reader is not the best person
Day 4.
Night began to fall, and you saw yourself reflected in the windows of your favorite convenience store. To say you looked dead would be too kind. Your hair was in disarray, as if you had never combed it before, not to mention your dark circles and vacant eyes. If you were mistaken for a homeless person, you would understand.
This time with Chuuya was…. Well, difficult. Now you feel like a bit of an idiot for letting yourself be fooled, you should have been more careful. You're not oblivious to the bad people in the world, you just didn't think Chuuya would be one of them.
You were dating a mafia executive! And you didn't even know it. You only found out recently, when you saw those blood stains on the shirt you were going to wash. You wished it had all been a misunderstanding, that you were exaggerating and it had all remained an anecdote to laugh about in the future. You wished you hadn't trusted this bastard so much, but now look at you, half a year of your life down the drain. No home, no job, no money.
And you still miss him. God, you feel pathetic. You shouldn't have moved in with him soon after you started your relationship, nor should you have quit your job because he could support you. You try not to be hard on yourself either because, come on, the man “of your dreams” had offered you a life of luxury for literally nothing, you didn't even have to do housework because he was willing to do it so you could live like royalty.
Oh god, how you miss him.
You get out of the store before you get kicked out of there and go back to your friend's house, who you were stealing practically all the money from.
Day 7.
After your long day of looking for a job in all the existing stores, and having no luck in any of them, you arrive at your friend's house to find several policemen at the door. You fear the worst, and it is the worst.
Your friend is dead, or rather murdered. You are told that the scene appears to be the work of the Port Mafia and your blood runs cold.
After half an hour, the police call you because the Armed Detective Agency wants to talk to you, but you're already in a bar, and you don't want to talk to anyone. You hang up directly, even though it could get you in trouble.
Do you feel sad for your friend? Not really. You didn't have much of a relationship, he was a good person who had to get involved in your misfortune. Do you feel guilty? Hell yes, of course.
You know about Chuuya's questionable attitudes, you noticed them from the first moment. You weren't blind. As soon as someone flirted or even hinted a modicum of interest in you with your boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend, you remind yourself) present, you never heard from that person again. You always ignored him, what's more, you were flattered because, if he was that possessive of you, that meant he really loved you, right?
And who else would love you the way you are.
It was a bad idea to leave Chuuya, it was a horrible idea. You should have foreseen this situation, you didn't know specifically that it killed people around you, but that doesn't exclude you from your responsibility. Innocent people died for getting close to you.
If you had talked to Chuuya from the first day you noticed his behavior, maybe things would have been different.
You have another drink to take your mind off that part of you, hidden in the darkest corners of your head, that keeps feeling flattered by him. You'd like to say that thought is small and because of the alcohol, but you'd be lying to yourself.
Chuuya, the man you've loved the most, has killed for you. Sounds like the characteristic that any teenager with hormones going through the roof would wish for when thinking of my ideal boyfriend or girlfriend. Someone who will kill and die for you.
Chuuya would do it, without thinking about it.
No one has loved you like the redhead did. No one has treated you like royalty, nor cared as much about you, nor treated you with as much delicacy and love as he has.
Do you really care about the innocent lives he takes, or are you just faking concern to make yourself feel better?
Day 10.
It's foggy and cold. Perfect weather for the occasion.
You're on your way to Chuuya's house, all dressed in black. You have just left your friend's funeral. You still can't understand why his family invited you.
Your feet are heavy, and you feel that at any moment you will vomit up the nothingness in your stomach. The subject of barely having enough to eat because you spend most of your money at the motel where you are staying is not pleasant. You feel weaker and thinner, you remind yourself to weigh yourself on the scale in the bathroom at Chuuya when you arrive.
You miss the comforts your boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, for now) offered you. You put morals aside, you were never the best person anyway. The people who pointed you out as someone who is selfish and only cares about himself were right, they were so right.
You should have realized your nature earlier, instead of trying to focus on grief and guilt.
Sooner than you thought, you were planted in front of your man's door. You didn't want your hand to shake so much when you ring the doorbell, but it does.
Not even 10 seconds pass before you finally see Chuuya. As perfect as ever, with that captivating gaze that managed to distract you from any subject in just seconds. You regret not dressing up more for him.
He also has slight dark circles under his beautiful eyes. You feel relieved to know that you weren't the only one suffering from the breakup.
“Y/N?! How come you're here, I-” He interrupts himself with his own words, and you can't help but smile at the scene.
His hands want to touch you, to hug you and know that you're real, but he seems to regret it before he even touches you. Oh, if only he knew that you have the same desire to feel his hands again.
Chuuya gives a sigh and nervously averts her gaze, then returns it, her expression more serious and determined.
“Look, I'm really sorry for everything. I should have been honest with you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and you don't know how much I missed you, and-” You wonder if he's practiced his speech. Before he can continue, you pounce against his body to kiss him with your mouth open.
Chuuya doesn't take long to keep up with you, to trap you in his arms. It's clear to him, he won't let you go again, no matter what he has to do to stop you.
Oh, how you had missed him.
I thought about it ending up in something nsfw, but my asexual ass was afraid of success.
#bsd x reader#bsd x you#yandere bsd#yandere chuuya#chuuya x you#chuuya x reader#bsd chuuya#chuuya nakahara#yandere bungou stray dogs
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wtf was hamilton actually like
yet another long rant about how little i really know about hamilton! this is in regards to his personality because i can't get him down. i can't figure out what he would've been like in everyday life.
for any historical figure, we take explicitly documented traits and build off of them. even if it's clumsy, i'd be confident "predicting" how washington & jefferson usually act, etc. but for some reason, ham's characterization is all over the place. his recorded personality traits, also mixed with his political attitudes, often conflict and authors end up leaning into certain parts. for instance: there's flirty & flamboyant ham. there's prideful, arrogant, standoffish ham. there's bumbling politics ham, obtuse and belligerent 24/7 - aka musical ham, but that was an intentional choice. there's even kind and warm ham, which definitely seems accurate for his family and close friends least.
was he loud and intense 24/7? or was that just him during work, since we also know that he had a habit of mumbling to himself and looking like a daydreamer to spectators?
some people said that his general countenance was serious and austere, but we also know that he could be a charmer in social spaces. he was described as feminine but also as "martial". some have written that there's an "simplicity" in his manners, and a clear openness, but we also speculate that he closed off some part of his emotions after laurens' death. he was constantly worried about his loved ones' health, like him tucking in judge ford, but we also know that he could ghost people mercilessly. was he guarded or was he not?
i guess i can pinpoint how he might have interacted with select people, like eliza, his children, washington. but i don't know which side of him was shown in the majority of his interactions - what the "real" him, or at least common him, would've been.
one of my fav descriptions of him notes how even his speech fluctuated:
“His language is not always equal; sometimes didactic like Bolingbroke’s; at other times light and tripping, like Sterne’s. His eloquence is not so defusive as to trifle with the senses, but he rambles just enough to strike and keep up the attention...His manners are tinctured with stiffness and sometimes with a degree of vanity that is highly disagreeable. “
and i recall another anecdote about how he was serious and made intelligent conversation at dinner, but became more of the flirty charming persona afterwards while socializing.
like all human beings he was multifaceted, but damn. i really can't confidently say "oh if you ran into hamilton in the street he would be really polite/reserved/kind/charming."
i guess all of this goes to say that this guy was insanely complex and i'm not sure if anyone, let alone himself, really figured it out. that's definitely why i'm interested in him as a figure, but ugh. frustrating when i'm writing and can feel myself slipping into a common ham archetype that i don't think is 100% accurate. and we didn't even get into how much of that is "real" or - adams' version.
#alexander hamilton#historical hamilton#amrev#maybe experienced writers or people who have researched a lot about him can help me out here#amrev fandom#historical alexander hamilton
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"Eternal Attachment" Post Zayne Birthday Event Review + Delulu
Note: Please take this with a grain of salt as I cry myself for this one. This is personal opinion and delulu brain working so no need to go violent at me as none of this was confirmed beside the cannon events connected to his birthday. MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. YOU ARE WARNED!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT FOR NSFW CONTENTS
First Things first. Please stop comparing Rafayel's and Zayne's Birthday Event because they are special in their own way. Plus I trust that the dev knows what they are doing. In my opinion, they are basing the stories on the boys personalities and overall impact to the main stories. True we ain't able to give him a kiss on his birthday but we marked him on Misty invasion. All is fair guys! And if the dev give us same plots, then what are we going t look forward to?
Zayne's birthday event left us with warm feeling and overall stronger bond with him. His character development and relationship development is awesome and the fact the he easily smiles now gives me satisfaction. I love him so much.
The most memorable part of this event for me is the recording of Zayne's video message to his parents and him holding our hands in front of everyone. When he mentioned that "they already know you" it means he talks about us to his parents. This is again something so intimate yet so wholesome. He did really love us. And the holding hands is showing that he is taking claim on us. Yes, Zayne! I belong to you!
Zayne and M/C had s3x after the cake scene. Ok this is the delulu me, but M/C subtly offer her self to Zayne when she says "the birthday boy is allowed to be greedier than usual" and Zayne mentioning "my appetite is perfect for handling anything from you", "perhaps, it's because I already taste something sweeter" this might be just my imagination but remember that In the previous Banner he tasted "us" solidifying the fact that we are indeed and not just in a relationship with him but we are already intimate.
Dawn breaker is present in Zayne's body during this event/ This is yet a again a mix of canon and delulu. Canon because in Zayne's anecdote, Dawnbreaker was there during M/C singing happy birthday. Delulu because I feel like Dawnbreaker never left he is the one delivering the line "I wish that in the years to come, I won't have to imagine spending everyday of my life with someone". Think about it his way, Why would Dr. Zayne imagine that he is with us, when he is actually and physically with us? And the more deluded part of my brain tells me he is there as well when we are being intimate with Zayne and Zayne is actually aware of Dawnbreaker.
From here on will be the dark and sad side of the delulu I'm in due to this card. When I mention that Dr. Zayne was aware of Dawnbreaker being present in him, it is because he mention in the Daily Task Episode that "he just stops being afraid in the monster the lurks in them" (his dreams). Perhaps he don't view them as dreams anymore and he as aware that he have another presence/persona in a different time.
That being said, Dr. Zayne might also be aware of Foreseer and Master of Fate causing him to almost always speaks so formally and in 3rd person speech.
Dr. Zayne might also be aware of the killing Dawnbreaker needs to do to people that turns to wanderers. And this might also explain his needs to always save lives not just M/C. Dr. Zayne might be trying to save lives to compensate to the life lost on Dawnbreaker's hands. Oh no I am so so sad about this.
And the finally, Dr. Zayne might also be aware that Dawnbreaker does not have his version of M/C in his timeline. Since (delulu) he comes to terms that they are the same person on a different timeline, he is willing to share his happiness to his other self. And that happiness is M/C. This might also explain the touchiness and neediness from Zayne, cause they are 2 people longing for her.
Final Thoughts. It must really be twisted to have them at the same time. No pun intended. But if Dr. Zayne and Dawnbreaker is indeed present at that exact time, I really don't mind. I'll take any version of Zayne anytime. He have done so much for us and if I'm making him more happy by celebrating the day with both of them, I will gladly do so. Might it be Dr. Zayne or Dawnbreaker, they deserve all the happiness in the world.
#love and deepspace#zayne#zayne love and deepspace#zayne lads#lnds zayne#zayne l&ds#dr zayne#dawnbreaker
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Clement Novalak (Mathiesen) - So Poetic
Requested: yes by DeliF1 on wattpad
Prompts: 7) "She is my other half as the poets would say"
Warnings: you may turn into a Clem girly
Another day, another Screaming Meals podcast. Today, the trio had found themselves with a rather special guest; Y/n Y/l/n, the motorsport journalist found herself on the sofa next to her boyfriend. As Marcus scrolled through questions on Instagram, the four joked around as the camera and microphones recorded their interactions; from the pouring of their wine, to the innapropriate jokes being made and it would be edited accordingly.
"Oh, I've got a good question." Marcus said, looking to the couple across from him. "You said before on the podcast, that you're scared of your girlfriend. In what way are you scared of her?" Marcus asks. "Is she into some-"
"I am going to stop you right there!" Clement interjected, making the room erupt into laughter. "I need more wine." Y/n joked, pouring more Pinot into her glass. "No!" Clem said, lunging forward to grab the bottle. "We talked about this." Y/n laughed. "You're making me sound like an alcoholic!" She managed to get out in between the laughs. "I have never felt like such a third wheel." Marcus said. "Is this how you felt when Lissie was on the podcast?" James nodded. "Now it's just me that has to sort out a girlfriend appearance." He joked. "But back to the question, why are you scared of Y/n?" Marcus asked. Clem sighed. "See, I'm not scared of her. I don't think she's capable of hurting me. I think I'm just scared of her determination." Y/n looked at him confused. "What?" She asked.
"I'll give you an example. For the 24 hours of Le Mans, she had to write up a report for the day it finished up. So she stayed up the whole 24 hours and wrote her report as it happened. And spent the few hours after that correcting bits and bobs. Then!" He paused. "Then she went to a bloody pirates class, like who does that?!" Marcus looked at her, jaw hanging in disbelief. "No way." Y/n nodded. "It's my job. I take it seriously. As Clem said, I'm determined in it and I am dedicated." She smiled. "Well I'm happy you took up journalism and not world domination." The four laughed again. "She could take the place over if she wanted, Jesus."
Marcus leaned in, grinning, "Now Clem, this isn't a fan question but more of a me question but what does Y/n mean to you? I know you've struggled eith women before." Y/n shook her head, laughing quietly. "That's so rude." Clem said to Y/n as she laughed to herself. "No, its- just answer the question!" Clem chuckled, glancing at Y/n with a twinkle in his eyes. "I don't usually get so romantic like this but I suppose she's my other half, as the poets say." Y/n placed her hand on her chest and looked over at him adoringly. "Does she feel the same? She seems very fond of that wine there, mate." Clem laughed and put the wine down. "I don't care if she doesn't feel the same. It's unconditional love, isn't it? You have to love them even if there comes a day they don't love you back." Y/n looked over. "There is no way you just quotes Taylor Swift." The room erupted in laughter, but Clem's gaze never wavered from Y/n. "No, seriously. Y/n completes me in ways I never thought anyone could ever. Like it's crazy how I managed to even wake up in the morning before I met her. Its maddening for me to think about."
Y/n blushed, playfully nudging Clem. "I didn't know he could get this sentimental, my goodness. This is the kind of stuff you'd see in movies." Marcus grinned. "That's true love, right there." Y/n nodded. "He got very sappy." James joked. "This man used to be so fun on nights out and now he's all responsible." Y/n covered her face, laughing whilst Clem tried to defend himself. It just all got too funny to be honest. The conversation flowed effortlessly, mixing personal anecdotes with motorsport banter. As jokes and laughter echoed through the podcast, Marcus and James couldn't help but notice the genuine connection between Clem and Y/n. They felt like they were third wheeling.
Towards the end, Marcus raised his eyebrows. "So, any plans for the future, you two?" Clem exchanged a knowing look with Y/n. "Well, maybe a pit stop at the wedding chapel?" James teased, "Will it be a fast wedding, or will you take it slow?" Clem shrugged his shoulders. "Not sure yet. I assume we'll be stopping off at that wedding chapel I Vegas." Y/n joked. "Oh, can we actually?" Clem asked. "No!" Marcus and James laughed as the concluded up the podcast. "Half your soul? You got awfully poetic, love." Y/n remarked. "He always talks about you like this. Don't mind him." James said, picking up the empty wine glasses. "Oh really?" She asked amusingly as Clem turned more and more red. "What? I love my girlfriend? Is that a crime?" Y/ threw her arms around him and placed a kiss onto his cheek. "You're the sweetest person I have ever met."
"Now look that you've done, guys." Clem said annoyed. "Oh shut up. Let me have a cute boyfriend." He chuckled and hugged her back, kissing her cheek too. "You can have a cute boyfriend
I'll help you look for him." Marcus said. "Oh fuck you, mate!" The three others sat laughing at the annoyed Clement whilst he held his girlfriend in his arms.
#f1 blurb#f1 imagine#f1 oneshot#f1 oneshots#clement novalak x reader#clement novalak x you#clement novalak imagine#clement novalak oneshot#clement novalak blurb#screaming meals#clement novlak oneshot#clement novlak imagine#clement novlak x y/n#clement novlak x reader#clement novlak
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