#THE QUEEN OF PEACE ALWAYS DOES HER BEST TO PLEASE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hcrctic · 5 months

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HEADCANONS, WEDDING EDITION! —💍+ Scarlet Strange [as mildly requested by @musings-of-an-antari] (selectively accepting)

where they get married: in the middle of the woods, probably. stephen thinks is unpratical, wanda thinks is magical.

when they get married (ie what time of day, what month and season etc.): october! even though she wanted a spring wedding and he wanted a winter one, they decided october because.. duh, witches and sorcerers, halloween! it starts before sunset, ends up until dawn; also that October 31st had a full moon.

what traditions they include (do they get married under a chuppah and crush a glass, garter toss, ‘something borrowed, something blue,’ etc.): well, all of them, they ended up marrying in a non denominal wedding, but include most of the american traditions per wanda's request.

what their wedding cake looks like: like this, is red velvet, wanda's favorite flavor.

….who smashes cake into whose face: wanda at stephen, he glares at her but then attempts to do it to her, ends up with double of the amount of cake on his face.

who proposed to who first: stephen, cliche, but beautiful.

who walks down the aisle and who waits at the altar (or neither): he waits at the altar, wanda walks down the aisle.

what their wedding dress/suit look like: wanda's wedding dress, veil/cape, headpieces, stephen's suit.

what their wedding colour scheme is and what sort of decor they have: their theme is celestial, so golds, silvers, velvet dark blues, blacks, whites.

what flowers are in the bouquet (if applicable. bonus: what do the flowers mean?): no flowers, pearls, because a pearl necklace was the first thing he gave her.

what their vows are (eg poetry, traditional, improvised etc.): poetic, both of them plasm their feelings in an ethereal way.

if anyone’s late to the wedding: that is clint, tbh.

who’s in the bridal parties/groomsmen: wanda had natasha, pietro (in a dress, jk), and yelena. stephen had wong, stark, and peter.

what their bridal party/groomsmen are wearing: girls, guys.

who gives speeches at the reception (bonus: what do they say? recount a sweet memory or two between them? tell an embarrassing story?): wong and pietro, pietro's will include several threats to stephen, wong will make his way to embarrass him as much as he can; both will praise wanda and tell her she's a saint for marring him.

who catches the bouquet: yelena and kate fight for it.

what their wedding photos are like (are they sweet, with the couple holding hands or kissing or ~gazing into each others eyes~? are they silly, with a snapshot of the ‘cake-smash’ moment? or are they artistic, with one of them facing the sunset or holding their bouquets?): the official ones are sweet, romantic; the photo shoot also has artistic ones. the ones of the wedding are pure chaos.

what sort of food they have at the reception: they asked for people's favorite foods and decided to make a buffet.

who cries first during the ceremony: if stephen doesn't cry as she is walking down the aisle, he better run.

how wild their reception gets (who dances the best, who gets drunk first, etc.): tbh, everyone is in their best behavior before the drinks, then everyone goes wild, the first one to be drunk is wong, but gets followed by clint, then scott. also wong can dance and surprisingly well!

what their rings are like: engagement ring (was stephen's mom) wedding bands

what sort of favours they have (heart shaped sparklers, mini champagne bottles, personalised candy etc.): little moet bottles, sparklers, little bags with star shaped chocolates, and also small necklaces for the women, scented candles, and money clips for men.

where they go for their honeymoon: europe! london, paris, venice, greece... all the stops.

something memorable that happens during the party/ceremony (do they run out of ice and someone goes to get it in full formal wear on foot, does anyone fall asleep in the middle of the party, etc.): does a bonfire full of drunk barefoot people dancing count as a memorable thing?

who officiates the ceremony: wong! who better than him, also will add funny remarks as he officiates

what song their first dance is to: 'cherry' by lana del rey (but an orchestra's version) is her song to him, is her telling him she is devoted to him and only him.

who gives who away as they walk down the aisle: pietro, he will actually whisper that he'll kill stephen if he dares to make wanda cry.

#🌙 — now she’s going to play and sing and lock you in her heart | ships #🌙 — i was born in a big gray cloud screaming out a love song; what a place to come from | isms #🌙 — the queen of peace always does her best to please; is it any use? somebody's gotta lose | headcanon #🌙 — darling i fall to pieces when i'm with you | scarletstrange

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luwupercal · 1 year

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one thing i like about warhammer 40k is that i'll go several years not really thinking too much about a character and then consider them in a way that suddenly makes me really attached. anyway i've been really compelled by Erda recently

#oh the queen of peace / always does her best to please / but is it any use? / somebody's got to lose...#<- lyrics from florence+the machine's queen of peace #heresycore song. just so you know #i have a whole brain amv abt it #anyway my thoughts about erda started when i was researching her for the tnok au so you can like #imagine the level of pain i'm about to level at this poor woman

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lylngwalt · 2 years

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𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏,

𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔰

full name: ellaria martell. nickname(s): ella, ells, el. age: twenty four. gender identity: female. pronouns: she/her. sexual orientation: demisexual.

𝔭𝔥𝔶𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔶

height in feet: 5′3. eye color: brown. hair color: black. faceclaim: charithra chandran. right or left handed: can use both. style in fashion: typically in gowns, comfort but slightly above casual. sexual history: one partner. medical history: fractured her wrist at seven, fractured two ribs in her early teens. allergies: none. chronic illnesses: none. mental illnesses: insomnia, low-level social anxiety.

𝔣𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶 + 𝔩𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔶

lineage: martell sibling(s): three older brothers, allyria martell *older sister. birth order: youngest. marital status: unmarried. significant other: none. children: none. other relatives: nymella martell *sister in law. pets: none. language(s): common tongue. homeland: dorne. loyalty: martell.

𝔭𝔰𝔶𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔶

fears: her family being killed, house martell falling to another. secrets: soon to be learned. iq: slightly above average. sleeping habits: less than seven hours. eating habits: often snacking. groups or alone: alone. leader or follow: adjustable.

𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔰

compassion: 10/10. empathy: 9/10. creativity: 8/10. mental flexibility: 6/10. passion/motivation: 7/10. education: 10/10. stamina: 7/10. physical strength: 7/10. fitting skill: 6/10. initiative: 7/10. restraint: 10/10. agility: 6/10. strategy: 6/10. teamwork: 5/10.

𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶

mbti: infp. enneagram: type nine. four temperaments: phlegmatic. positives: compassionate, free spirited. negatives: manipulative, blunt. moral alignment: chaotic good. archetype: sage+innocent. aesthetics: fading light in a dark hallway, the distant sound of an oncoming storm, getting lost in the moonlight, listening to secret conversations, the feeling of falling and the smell of a fire. theme song: i’ll be good by jaymes young.

𝔟𝔦𝔬𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔭𝔥𝔶

youngest to the martell ruling line, ellaria often followed in the foot prints of her siblings. their parents were not soft but also not the worst, it left a place in her life in need of affection -- attention and proper praise, most often finding it from the other children though she learned quickly how to receive it from others. her years growing up she picked up many skills her siblings had as she spent the most time around them, it also was a way to keep some tie with them and receive looks of approval from their parents.

ellaria was nothing short of an attention seeker, not in a way to put others down or try to bring attention to herself in a talkative way- she simply enjoyed when she received it. so the princess often went out of her way to hold many talents, it was one of the easier ways to get what she wanted - having learned others loved the talented, smart, and kind. she could swing a sword, know what plant would be deadly and which could heal, she versed herself in the knowledge of etiquette and even learned low valyrian. it wasn’t as though she didn’t enjoy learning but always in the back of her mind she wanted to be ‘that’ girl - the one no one would expect to strike if she needed, the one simply there.

when her brother became the ruling head she was thrilled; she turned her own attention from teenage wants and younger need for others - to her family. ellaria spends her time being the ambassador of her family, keeping ill talk out of peoples mouths and being whatever her siblings need her to be.

𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰 + 𝔭𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔰

friends from dorne. personal guard / possible trainer. crush / could be unrequited. negative influence / possible ying yang relationship. lined up betrothal.

𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔰

⸺ visage ☪ muse ☪ aesthetic ☪ conversations ☪ others ⸺

#i wanna be a silk flower like i’m never gonna die. reflection #the queen of peace always does her best to please. musing #thrones.intro #sometimes silence is violent. aesthetic #we will carve our place into time and space. interactions #all we do is think about the feelings that we hide. others

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veganslut420 · 1 year

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#music #queen of peace always does her best to please #is it any use!!!!! somebody’s gotta lose!!!!!

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suroftheworld · 2 years

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'queen of peace' by f+tm was written about alicent hightower btw

#alicent hightower #house of the dragon #hotd #don't get me started on seven devils #queen of peace #'oh the queen of peace always does her best to please. is it any use? somebody's gotta lose' like???

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month

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Winter's King 17

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I have a house now. One more month until move in.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You leave the queen, stepping into the gales that whip around the outer flap of her tent. You reach to keep your cap from flying into the violent winds, the soldiers with their chins down as they lean against the force. Before you can gain your bearings, a shadow appears and calls your name, battling the weather to be heard.

“Eh, where is your cloak, silly mouse? You will blow away with the leaves,” Bryce approaches, latching onto your arm as the bluster swirls around you, nearly taking you off your feet.

“I am fine, sir, I only need find a blanket,” you stumble against him as another willful gust pushes you around.

“That isn’t what I asked. What has happened to it? You’ve lost it?”

“The queen was cold, sir,” you answer and cling to him, shivering as the tempest swirls around you.

“The queen... greedy...” his voice trails off as her sneers towards the tent.

“Sir,” you touch his arm gently to calm him, “she needs it more than I. She is expecting the king’s child.”

He looks at you and juts out his jaw, “aye, s’pose you’re right, even if you’re too kind for yer own good.”

He turns you and grips you tightly, shielding you as best he can against the wind. Your progress is slow and stunted by the sudden ebbs and flows. He grunts as you stagger and steadies you, at times almost lifting you off your feet.

“Sir Bryce,” a deep voice slices through the whistle of the winds, “a storm approaches.”

The king nears, his sword gripped by the pommel as he leans it against hit shoulder. His golden eyes flick towards you, as if he had not seen you in the shadow of your escort. He raises his chin and returns his attention to the soldier. He angles his blade to the ground and the tip buries in the dirt.

“Aye, it surely does,” Bryce agrees, “I’ve seen a worst tempest in my years.”

“Sir,” Geralt holds out his hands and a glisten appears on his sleeve. You lean in without a thought, curious, then feel a cold speck on your nose. You look up and see the white flakes drifting down. “It will not remain so peaceful. It comes from the north and will deepen by morning.”

“Shall we wake the camp?” Bryce asks and you sway with the wind. Once more, the king’s attention strays to you, he frowns.

“Not as yet. Let the horses rest a little longer. They will be able to handle a dusting,” he affirms. “but I will harry the men to prepare for our departure.”

“As will I. I’ll be certain the carts are covered and weighted.”

“Sir, ever wise,” King Geralt praises and scowls at you. He shakes his head and huffs, “why does the maid wear no cloak? She will not survive in this, summer soul, she is.”

“Aye, yes, I was only just telling her as much. Seems her heart is too big for her thin hide,” Bryce tuts, “we were only off to find her a blanket before she sleeps.”

“Blanket, eh,” the king lets go of his blade, letting it stand in the ground. He unbuckles his collar and sweeps his cloak from around his shoulder, “I have my hunting cloak and I don’t mind the snow so much.”

Before you can react, the king lays his heavy cloak over your shoulders. It is longer than your height requires and it smells of sweat and iron. You lower your head at the warmth clinging to the lined wool.

“Your highness, many thanks, but I might find a blanket--”

“Do not defy your king,” Bryce rebukes, “mouse, you would do well to accept his grace. You will certainly need it if these winds do not pass.”

“Apologies,” you utter, “sir, your highness, you are both generous.”

King Geralt grumbles and nods, looking once more to the sky as he grabs his sword.

“The Ridge, Vulture’s Peak... it isn’t far. The castle will do, eh?”

“Not far at all, your highness,” Bryce agrees. “It would do you well to let your wife rest. Many congratulations, my king.”

“Congratulations? For what? Smelling a storm?” the king furrows his brow.

“Oi, I think I’ve said too much,” Bryce glances at you.

“Say more,” the king commands. The soldier sighs and sheepishly shows his teeth.

“Please, maid, would ya...” He mutters.

“Your highness, the queen said she is with child,” you swallow, “I only just came from her tent. I believed you were aware. I did not mean to gossip.”

“Child,” his eyes sink and close. He hums and heaves a deep breath, “yes, she would need to be still a time.”

“Your highness, again, you have my apologies--”

“No matter,” the king waves his hand. “Take the maid, I shall see to my wife.”

The king resumes his path onward, sword in hand. He hardly shares in Jazlene’s cheer for the news. Perhaps it is only the threat of the storm that has him unhappy.

You bring your hands to the dark fur along the collar of the cloak and draw it snug. You chatter and Bryce clucks. He nudges you and you walk forward in step.

“So the snows have come,” Bryce declares, “along with the heir. I sense many storms brewing, mouse. Best keep our eyes on the horizon.”

⚔️

You don’t sleep for long, if at all. Only the shallow dregs of your anticipation. You watch the snow fall from beneath the canopy and as the horses are roused and fed before dawn, a carpet coats the ground.

You peer down at the powder. You wonder what it feels like. Cold and wet, Bryce says, but don’t dirty your soles, you’ll be soaked. He remains, as ever, cynical.

“Be off soon,” he says as he brings Daisy around, a thick coat over her back and haunches.

“To Vulture’s Peak?” You ask.

“Aye, so we will,” he pets Daisy’s snout as she sniffs him. “though our host may not be so fond to have us.”

“Host? It is not the king’s castle?”

“Ha, no, no,” Bryce laughs heartily, “a king can’t live on a desolate bluff. By fealty, a lord must break bread and offer a roof to his king. It might be his company which has him facing a cold welcome.”

“Oh,” you frown.

“Ah, even this old coot won’t deny us in the coming storm. He has sense of these better than any,” Bryce shrugs. “Don’t worry your head. You stay in your cart and Daisy will do the rest. She’s a fine climber--”

“Out of my way!” The curdling snarl interrupts the soldier and you both look to see the source. “Move, by gods, I am the queen, be away from me.”

You get to your knees, leaning on the edge of the wagon to see out from under the canopy. A scatter of bodies split apart as Queen Jazlene struts through, the fur cloak rippling from her shoulders and the hood set back on her head as her curls spill out. She sneers at the snow beneath her slippers.

“Ah, I did hear there was a cart around here—ugh, out,” she points as she marches up to the cart, “by royal right, I am seizing this cart.”

“Eh,” Bryce moves closer, “your highness, the king--”

“I cannot sit a horse, sir,” she rests her gloved hand over her stomach. “Or would you murder the future prince with your selfishness. All for a--” she pauses and glowers over at you, rolling her eyes. “A maid?”

You rise and snatch up the cloak you’d used as a blanket. You keep bent under the low canopy and climb out with the cushion under your arm.

“Sir, the queen is right, she should have the cart, I will sit with the luggage.”

He huffs and sends a grimace to the sky, unable to direct his malice towards its source, “if she must...”

“I must!” The queen snaps and yanks the pillow from your hands, “I will need this, certainly.”

You stand aside, staring at the pillow dolefully, and buckle the top of your cloak. The queen pauses as she faces you. She looks you up and down.

“Where did you find this then?” She touches the collar of the cloak.

“It is my spare cloak,” Bryce insists before you can answer, “what else do you require, your highness? Shall we bring a lamb to sacrifice?”

“Hm, is that how you northerners worship?” She sneers, missing his irony.

He blinks dully and says nothing.

“Well, secure the horse, I will need to be drawn.”

“It is my horse,” Bryce insists, “you may bridle your own.”

“You dare deny me?” She snarls at him as the soldiers with her stand on either side of the cart.

“You may take it up with your husband. This is my steed, she carried me to war and she will carry me henceforth,” he snips.

Bryce and Jazlene glare at each other. You look between them nervously. You don’t know who King Geralt might choose in this battle should he be called.

“Fine, fetch the stinky thing,” Jazlene demands of one of the soldiers, “and blankets, another pillow, perhaps something to eat.”

The cast of the sky shifts with the first light of the sun and Bryce grabs both horses and leads them aside. He whistles for you to follow. You come to him as Chestnut and Daisy cluelessly puff into the cold air.

“You will ride. I will not have that... queen seizing my horse,” he sniffs, “I will show you how once I’ve saddled the mare.”

“Oh, yes, sir.” You look up at the horses back. It seems very high.

“You will want to be aback anyhow,” he shrugs, “you’ll not want to miss the mountain. It is very beautiful, especially in the snow.”

⚔️

The party continues onward, treacherously. As the snow falls, the train diverts away from the flats and onto the narrow paths speckled with broken trunks and towering trees. The smell of pine tickles your nose as you ascend, bit by bit.

It takes some time to grow used to the motion of the horse. Daisy’s hooves are certain and she does not slip on even the most precarious spots. Bryce rides behind you, booming about each nook and cranny, pointing out the white rabbits and the wilted fauna. His enthusiasm is unexpected but endearing.

You ride until the moon replaces the sun and dismount along the side of the great cliff. There is no room here to pitch a tent and only a few fires burn along the ridge. Your hips ache as the soldier grunts about his back.

“I should see to the queen,” you suggest as you rub your hands together.

“She must have many fawning over her,” Bryce spits out a wad of leaves and squashes it under his feet.

“I am her maid--”

“And we are on a long road. She might go without you minding her temper,” he snarls.

You frown, “I am not upset. She needs the cart more than me.”

“It isn’t that which sees me chagrined,” he growls. “It’s those deeds you will not admit of that traitor’s daughter which make me prickle.”

You’re quiet. You look away, your eyes wandering up into the sky, watching the snow swirl down, following it down to the ground far below. The heaps are immaculate in the moonlight and the trim of white along the ridge gleams.

“I am a maid.”

“I know little of your summer people but if that is how they treat those who serve them, perhaps this alliance was not so wise,” he grumbles as he steps up beside you, “perhaps it would’ve been better to submit such cruel nobles.”

“Sir,” you say, shocked and peer over at his profile. His beard has grown to meet his cloak, his hair coiling down to his shoulders.

“I serve my king, as I ever will, but I will not bend the knees to a snake,” he hisses and crosses his arms.

“We are united, aren’t we? Summer and Winter,” you reach to touch his thick hide mitt.

“Aye, yes, I do not seek another battle,” he exhales. “I am only wary of those who may.”

You squint. Your mind returns to Lord Dustan and what he said to his daughter. The heir is their prize, an affirmation of the bounty earned by their betrayal, but also a chain to that very act. To the man they forsook their name for. A man they speak as kindly on as they had their former allies.

“Might I walk?” You draw your hand from his. “My legs are sore.”

“Not too far. And keep your eyes open,” he girds, “and your hands in your cloak. You needn’t frostbite.”

You nod and he turns to you. He pulls up the hood of your cloak and pats your shoulder.

“Tarry too long and I’ll look for you,” he warns.

“Sir,” you shift slowly and step past him.

You trod higher up the incline as you marvel over the edge. Bodies huddles together beneath cloaks and blankets, nestling for warmth against the wall of the cliff. You carry on and stop near a luggage cart, close to the drop. You hold out your hand, letting snow gather in your palm. It is cold, bitterly and painfully cold, but so beautiful. You bring it closer and watch it slowly melt as your hand numbs.

“Do you remember...” the king’s voice drawls over you as his soft steps approach. “What I told you of this place?”

You look at him. He is lit by the moonlight, his golden eyes like stars, and his jaw is bristly with thickening stubble. You bow your head, “your highness, are the bears already asleep in their caves?”

He chuckles, “you do recall,” he praises, “not yet, though they do not come this high.”

“And the wolves? Are they near?”

“They are always prowling,” he says, shifting closer, his arm pressing to yours. He bends slightly to peer straight down, “the elk will be in the forests.” He points to the snowcapped tips of the distant trees, “here, the vultures have their nests. Their eggs,” he curves his hands to show the size, “I made a writ, years ago. It is forbidden to eat the eggs. I always found it quite tragic to desecrate the majestic creatures before they can even be borne. Before they can fly even.”

“Vultures? I’ve never seen one? They are... birds?”

“Yes, birds,” he confirms.

He is silent as he considers his kingdom below. His breath is gritty as it rises and falls. He has much to think on. A child, a wife, and his homecoming delayed by a storm.

“One thing has changed here, in these lands of winter,” he says lowly and you feel a ripple in your cloak. He presses his hand firmly to your back, sliding it along your side to grasp your hip. He moves to stand behind you and brings you close. He wraps his arms around you and rests his chin on your crown, “I said before, there is no summer here,” he holds you, pulling his cloak around you, concealing you within it as he drapes himself around you, “summer is here. With me. Warm and gentle.”

You go rigid as he holds you, your heart beating at the unexpected embrace, at the unseemly contact between you. He hums as he stands with you in the shadows of the cart, so brazenly covert. Anyone might happen upon you and yet they all hide away from the storm.

“Your highness,” you stammer and quiver against him.

“Treasure,” he purrs, “my treasure. The one good thing I’ve brought home...”

You can’t breathe or think. Is he drunk? Confused? What does he mean?

“I--” he begins but the kick of a rock quiets him, the stone bouncing off the cart’s wheel.

A shadow stalks down the precipice towards you and the king detaches, uncovering you from his cloak. He faces the figure as the tramp up the incline. You hear the king shudder as he tickles your back.

“There’s the mouse,” Bryce says as he comes into the moonlight, his brow and jaw set, though he doesn’t look at you. He looks at the king, almost defiant. “You shouldn't be out so long in the cold. Exposed,” he grits, “come, I’ve sparked us a fire.”

King Geralt clears his throat, “thank you, sir.”

“My king,” Bryce says as he beckons to you, “I will keep the maid safe. As you bid.”

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

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lokiisdaddyblog · 2 months

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𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞 |

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐋𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦.

*Probably will make this a multi part thing but idk I’ll see how it goes🙃*

You finished plaiting the last braid in your hair before continuing your peaceful stroll along the rushing river in the queens gardens.

You had been welcomed most warmly that dawn by the king and queen of Asgard, but as the princes were on a mission fighting in another realm, you were still yet to meet them.

As a light elf, you had the most radiant spirit and connected deeply with nature. You were a princess, yes, but that wasn’t always what you prioritised. You generally never dressed like one and you never cared for the politics of it all. One of the main reasons you were here now, on Asgard.

After your mother's passing, your father believed that if you spent time around this royal family, that ‘perhaps you’ll learn the proper manners of a princess’, as he had said.

You scoff at the memory. It may have only be recent, but, life hasn't been the same since your mother died. Your father is cold and distant. Life is lonely and dull.

Hour pass as you remain in the gardens, surrounded by animals and natural beauty. So lost in your own train of thought, you don’t even notice that someone has entered your presence.

“I do not believe that maids are allowed unaccompanied in the queens gardens.” The smooth voice snaps your from your trance and you turn to look over your shoulder.

You recognise the man standing before you immediately. Maid...really? Prince Loki; tall, dark, and handsome as ever. Does he really not realise who you are?

You cock your head to the side. “Oh, right. My apologies…my prince.” You bow your head slightly and he raises a brow as you stifle a giggle and run off back to the palace entrance. You decide to reside in your room reading, until dinner time.

----

"My boys. You both look rather dashing." Frigga's soft voice floats throughout the currently empty dining hall.

"Why thank you, mother." Thor replies as Loki smiles silently in response.

"So where is this.. princess.. that is going to be staying with us?" Loki asks, trying his best to hide his intrigue. His current thoughts were solely that of the princess and mysterious 'maid' he had found in the garden earlier that day that he had never seen before.

"Coming right now, and be nice to her, please. She has just lost her mother. She is delicate." Her voice is soft and there's a sadness to it. Your mother was, after all, one of Frigga's closest friends.

The guards open the doors to the dining hall. Meekly, you walk in and bow in front of the royal family before you.

"Rise, child." Odin's voice booms and you flinch slightly.

Frigga smiles fondly and gestures for you to come over. You slowly approach, curls in your hair bouncing slightly as you hold your beautiful, long, flowing dress.

"How are you, my dear?" Frigga asks as she holds your hands in hers.

You hesitate. "I'm okay, your highness."

"Good. And please, call me Frigga." She chuckles. "Here, meet my sons. Thor, and Loki." She smiles proudly.

As you reach a hand out to shake, you realise you shouldn't. Your father would whip your hand if you did that. Not that he's there, but you won't risk it this time. You settle on a curtsy.

"Welcome to Asgard, princess. We are more than happy to have you." Thor shouts kindly. You smile in return, feeling an odd sense of comfort from the large man.

You look over, making eye contact with Loki. He stares back at you, stunned, eyeing you up and down with a curious smirk. You blush and try not to laugh.

"It would seem that Prince Loki and I have actually met already."

---

The room bustled with people, eating their various foods and chatting about nothing. Small talk this, small talk that. Empty conversations will be the death of you.

"So, princess Y/n. How is your father faring?" A rough voice from beside you asks.

You groan internally.

"Quite well. Thank you." You reply through gritted teeth. You smile and silently stand there in hopes that unfamiliar man will leave. But, he doesn't.

"And how is life on Asgard treating you?" Another question you can roll your eyes at.

"Well considering I've been here barely a day, how about I get back to you on that one another time." You throw him a sour smile, handing him your drink before walking away curtly.

You find yourself standing alone in the corner as the night pursues. It seems that gossip travels rather fast here on Asgard as people were already whispering and casting judging glances. Perhaps you were too unnecessarily rude to the man. Well, who cares, maybe it means you can go home quicker.

"You do not care for dancing?" A husky voice asks from behind you.

"You do not care for approaching people like a normal person?" You don't need to turn around to know who it is.

He shrugs, no standing beside you. "I am not a normal person. It is simply part of my charm."

"Well that I sure do not care for." You cross your arms. How much longer until this is over.

"Ouch. You itch so badly to get out of here." He says quietly as he looks out onto the sea of people, who are starting to stare even more so now that you're talking to their prince.

"Don't you?" You scoff. "Look. I've been here a day and already all these people hate me."

"They do not hate you. They simply...misunderstand you, I suppose. Take your honesty as hostility." He shrugs.

"I said one thing! Just the one!" You raise one finger to emphasise and he chuckles in amusement.

"You will get over it, and I assure you, they will too." He tells you, as if he has experienced this before too.

Your eyes widen as you come to a shocking realisation. "If this news gets back to my father he is going to kill me."

Loki scoffs. "Please, with something this tame? I doubt it, princess."

His use of the words princess makes your stomach flip but you ignore the feeling and mumble incoherently back to him.

"I need to shower and organise my room with all my stuff." You say, changing the subject as you anxiously bite your nails, counting down the seconds till you can leave already.

"You do know there is maids for that, right?" He replies smugly, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Yes.. but you do know I'm not one of them, right?"

----

#loki #loki x reader #marvel #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki oneshot #loki laufesyon x reader #loki fluff #loki smut #loki angst #loki x y/n #loki x princess reader #loki story

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leavemeslowly · 2 months

Text

III. queen of peace

Pairing: Susie Glass x Edward Horniman

TV show: The Gentlemen (2024)

word count: 1472

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, not-super-graphic smut, love/hate? relationship

„The queen of peace

Always does her best to please

Is it any use?

Somebody’s gotta lose"

Susie and Eddie become partners, tell each other some dark truths and well… Susie listens to him against her better judgement.

Susie and Eddie stumbled into his office, laughing about something that Freddie shouted after them when they left the party happening in the living room.

Eddie closed the doors behind them and moved to the front of his desk where he hid a certain document. He handed Susie a blue fountain pen and asked her to sign. Naturally, not with her real signature because that could prove their professional relationship to the authorities. She signed with a doodle of a gun. He then drew a middle finger next to it. Their deal was done. They were in business, together.

„So, now we are equals?”, Eddie asked after he put the document inside of a safe hidden behind one of many paintings purchased by his father. Susie smiled enigmatically.

„Ta, I suppose we are. I will miss giving you orders."

"I am sure you will continue giving them anyway.” Eddie moved to a mini bar and poured them drinks. She smiled at him, thinking that he was probably right. Susie also knew that he will be more than happy to take them.

“Any plans what you want to do first?” She asked when he gave her a full glass.

“No”, She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean I do, but not today. Anyone ever told you, you are a workaholic?”

That is why she appreciated his companionship. He wasn’t afraid to challenge her and say it as it was.

“No.” Her expression changed to a more serious one. "Everyone else is too scared to tell me the truth."

“I am not afraid of you.” He searched for her eyes and his voice softened as if there was another dimension to his words. „I know what you are capable of when I pushed you. I have learnt my lesson.”

Susie sat in an armchair behind his desk and looked very pleased with herself taking his place.

„When I told Gospel the truth about his brother what led to his visit on your estate, I did it because you lied to me. I was angry at you, Eddie. It was personal. Don’t betray me again.”

Eddie nodded and moved closer to her. He leaned on his desk when looking down on her and not knowing how to respond to her confession. Admittedly, he was surprised by it. She sounded hurt rather than angry but he didn’t pointed that out aloud.

„I told Johnston, back when I still considered his support that I do not want any of your family members hurt. Of course, you too, Susie.” He paused to catch her eye and ensure she understands. „I don’t want to fight.” She looked up and met his eyes with openness he wasn’t prepared for.

„Is there anything you want then?”

„You know I want a lot of things.” He answered vaguely but not without understanding the hints she was dropping. „And it is all your fault.”

„Oh, really? I don’t think it is, Edward. I think you have always wanted it all. Military, this whole protector of your family act were meant to conceal your ambition. You don’t have to hide from me. We have already showed each other our darkest colours.”

Eddie was blindsided by her words that caused all of his pretences to tumble and crush into pieces. She stripped him of his defences with few punctuated words. Susie knew it and couldn’t contain her smirk of satisfaction.

“Always so smug, aren’t you?” Eddie countered gracelessly. She rolled her eyes and raised from her seat. Her words were the first loud declaration of his deepest and most sinister thoughts. “You don’t what to hear what I have to say?”

“No, not particularly.”

Eddie knew better so raised to his height and looked down on her. Her perfume lingered around him and the truth was he was under her spell not other way around. Nevertheless, he will try to even out the odds.

“You have it all, right? You are immaculate in protecting your empire but not for yourself, not really. For your brother, your father. You have a fucked up notion of obligation from which you can’t free yourself. You should want something just for you, Susie. Something substantial because I know you are not easily satisfied. Is there anything you would want? Anything I can give you, perhaps?”

Susie’s expression changed but she still was almost rigid. She had her head slightly tilted so she could gaze on his face. Finally, she slowly leaned in. Her hand landed on his lapel.

“You have no idea what you are asking for.”

He inched closer to her face and slowly, testing the waters, placed his hand on her cheek. Susie shivered at his touch, probably because of a coldness of his signet. Her eyelashes fluttered when she felt his breath on her lips. Eddie wanted to ruin her perfectly painted red lipstick which tempted him so many times before. He knew it will happen but the wait was crushing.

“Come on, Susie, tell me. What is that you want?” He caressed her cheek trying to encourage her to relax. “Should I give you an idea?”

He noticed the way her throat bobbed trying to mute any unwanted sounds. It was satisfying, going exactly in the direction he imagined.

“You should just kiss me, Edward, and stop teasing. For your own good.” Susie regained her old self and an ounce of self-composure.

Her words were like a sound of a gun being fired. Eddie crushed his lips to her. She immediately responded with need he didn’t anticipate. Still, her taste, her small noises were like magic. Until this moment, he didn’t realise how much he missed closeness and simplicity of a touch. This need was pathetic. He called out Susie on her weaknesses but he wasn’t better when he turned them around and pinned her to his desk and manoeuvred her to sit on it.

„You do justice to your family name, Eddie” Susie mumbled between their kisses. If he could, he would roll his eyes but just laughed, too busy kissing down her throat. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging it and he could not contain his moan. „So you like it like that? Not so tough anymore."

„You are talking too much, Susan.” Eddie raised his gaze to her stormy eyes. She slowly smiled but could not conceal desire looming there.

Her fingers slowly circled his tie and pulled it forcing him to kiss her again, but slower, according to her own want. She took it off and untucked first buttons of his shirt. Eddie's hands roamed over her back, then down her things and back up under he vest. Suddenly, she almost sobbed into his mouth. He discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under it so his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin.

Her jacket dropped to the floor next. Before she could react, Eddie was moving her to stand in front of him and brace her palms on the desk. He wanted to evaporate her thoughts, end her worries and let her finally relax. He pressed himself to her back and she moaned feeling him tall and unyielding.

It was right how she fitted between his arms, almost a head lower and staring up into his eyes. Her own were glazed with pure want that if necessary would send Eddie to another war. He touched her jaw to draw her to him and kiss her thoroughly while his other hand embraced hers. Their fingers intertwined and she gasped when his hand slid down her throat to slowly embrace her breast and pleasure her with his touch. He observed her opened mouth and small cries she let out.

„Eddie, it is too much.”

„So do you know now what you want?” He was teasing but he needed her to voice her desires. Perhaps, it was not strictly necessary knowing his own desperate craving but he wanted her to have it burned in her memory. That it was her own decision to fuck him and let him close enough to see her vulnerability. He did not want regrets and another cause for war.

„Eddie...” She didn’t want to admit it aloud. Still, she tried to express it when he forced her to look at him and saw her eyelids half closed and felt her slow grinding against him.

„Say it, Susie, God, please say it.” He was slowly losing a fight he began when she on the other hand was regaining control. It was her turn to foreshadow all the things she could do to him. Against his better judgement, he clutched her thigh and finally pushed into her ass. Not expecting that, she abruptly tilted her head back onto his arm and thrusted back with more fierceness.

„Yes, Eddie, yes, do your worst."

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yawntu · 1 year

Note

Not a request (unless you want it to be)! but imagine avatar!reader showing neytiri a little girl on girl action (scissoring) cause Jake's been too busy with the whole clan leader thing to please her 🫣

this had to get its own little moment

a/n: I love her I had to write this when I got it something about her makes me swoon. She has so many layers and she is my queen. I finally formatted it. Not proofread yet oop

pairing(s): Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite x f!Reader, extremely brief Jake Sully x f!Reader

word count: ~2k

warnings: NSFW / MDNI Caught, Scissoring / Tribbing, Switch x switch couple, Pregnant Neytiri bc she’s a milf it’s more so a plot point then focused on, Praise kink (receiving), Neytiri doesn’t really know what she’s doing but your enthusiasm makes up for it

Neytiri could not bring herself to understand why she was sitting here complaining to you. Her life had finally found some semblance of peace. She knows that she should be thankful for the way her people have risen from ashes; for having such a strong competent mate and a mother who knew what was best for her people. She was thankful still had a family to support her and her beautiful planet that was in the very least safe for now.

She should be at ease but she’s not. She’s frustrated and antsy. Maybe it was because she was pregnant enough to be left behind in things she felt needed her attention- or maybe she did not actually care about all of that and the sun was just too hot. She was no sure what it was but she couldn’t shake all the bitter moments that had accumulated throughout the week and led her to this very moment. Sat lounged out by a stream not so far from the village enjoying lunch with her best friend. Though she loved your daily walks, even your company did not soothe the bubbling anger she ultimately has concluded boiled down to Jake.

“All he does is work!” She snaps at you plopping a round berry in her mouth.

For a second you flinch as if you’re the one she’s scolding for neglect. You’re thankful you’re not at the receiving end of her sour mood as she rants about how annoying her day has been.

“Well, he’s dealing with a lot of guilt I’m sure. Men think too much and get stuck in their own brains.” You shrug as you finish peeling her fruit for her, trying to ease her foul mood while not throwing the friend you greatly admired under the bus.

She thinks it’s sweet how you’re always looking to help her, and how loyal you have been. Almost to a fault.

Jake had given you the order to look out for her and you did the most to make sure you met his expectations- like the good little ex-SEAL you were. She thought it was cute that you were so eager to please. Listened to orders so well.

“I’m dealing with the weight of his tsawl txìm ‘evi,”

Big ass kid. Her joking comment makes you bark out a laugh and throw your head back as you swat at one of her sore legs that lay across your own lap and legs.

“Better hope he doesn’t have his father's big ass head,”

You make her laugh as you point to your skull to annunciate the comment. She likes that she doesn’t have to act properly around you. She didn’t have to be nice. She felt she could act her age. Act like she wasn’t Tsakarem. That you were not an alien who had lived a whole over life before you chose this. That her non-native mate wasn’t tasked with rebuilding the world around her with the help of her mother while Neytiri was forced to focus on being pregnant.

She thought that preparing for motherhood would leave her in isolation and drive her into a solitary pit of despair, lost in her own thoughts- but yet here you were. Like her little shadow. Always there to keep her from feeling so alone. You were a good listener too. You didn’t talk much- would just let her ramble about however she felt so she didn’t have to keep it in and go insane with grief. It’s why she trusted you so much.

“I’ll never have another child again,” She rolls her eyes as she wiggles her sore calf over your lap again,

“Please; continue.”

You smile softly at her, returning to rubbing her swollen calf and thigh that you had previously neglected to peel a particularly rough citrus-like fruit for her.

She can talk about anything to you, and you’ll nod and joke along because ultimately she’s your best friend. The best friend you’ve ever had. You think she’s interesting and you care about the way she feels. That’s probably why she likes you so much right now. Your attentive hands on her anyways.

She tries to occupy herself with the citrus that dances across her tongue but all she can feel is the pad of your thumb massaging her swollen thigh.

“Let me sit up so I can get your other leg and hips.”

Her tail flicks as you move past your leg to sit on your knees. She doesn’t mean to seem so annoyed in her actions. She is not mad at you. She really just hates Jake right now. For how tired he is. How busy he is.

He always makes it up to her but had he not been so busy she wouldn’t have been so enticed by the swift movement of your hands against her sapphire skin.

She can swear you’re teasing her on purpose. The way you prop yourself on your knees and annunciate the pretty dip of your hips. Neytiri can’t help but shift and open her legs a bit more. To give you more room between her. She’d say she was getting comfortable but she isn’t stupid. She knows you know it too. You’re terrible at controlling your body language. It’s almost rude how quickly your tail twisting behind you and the way your ears are pointed right towards her.

Your nose crinkles in concentration as you move her leg to rest on your full hips while your thumb instantly moves to push a firm long stroke up the side of her thigh. The feeling shoots across her nerves and she sighs at the alleviation of pain in her hips. It almost makes her forget how much you had turned her on.

“You are so blessed,” She’s shocked at how quickly your palms pressed running across her sore muscles has begun to ease her tight hips and her sour mood, “You’re doing so well,”

She’s thankful you’re so easily appeased. Tail swishing behind you as you rub where her leg met her hip. She’d encourage you the rest of the day if it meant you didn’t stop.

“I have one order, gotta keep you from killin’ Jake during the day,” a giggle falls from your lips.

You lose good girl points at the mention of Jakes name and for the fact that you tease her for her temper. It is Jakes fault she was so irritated today. You knew that. It was obvious how needy she was for intimacy. Jake was as perfect as he could be to her- he was just so busy. You know she didn’t have the heart to complain to her mate that she was horny and lonely when he was carrying such a burden. You could chalk her well-hidden desperation up to her being pregnant but your face flushes at the thought that maybe she just liked you a little bit. You can’t stop your silly smile at the fact that her hips relax even more when you switch over to her opposite leg. One leg lay lazily on the ground while your knead your hands against her flesh.

“Am I helping the pain a little?”

And though you’re asking her a question you’re not looking up at her from your position between her legs. Too busy watching your hands paw at her swollen hips and thighs.

You’re sweet to her. It’s why she controls the motion of her tail snapping up off the ground to smack right up against what she hopes is just as needy and wet as she is.

You yelp and it makes her laugh and though you’ve been half purposely touching her in the hope she’d recuperate your touches you’re almost shocked at the outcome.

“Why are you wet, huh?”

She hopes her words work you up but the fact that your eyes shoot to hers for only a second before looking down to her core ignites her own needy breath.

“I- uh… I dunno I haven’t had sex since I’ve been on earth… like seven years ago.” It sounded like a long time- five years and some months of those if those years were actually getting to Pandora- and it felt like a nap to you. You still miss it obviously- a little too much as she reaches her fingers to caress your wrist and it has you humming.

She laughs at you of course. Making fun of you even though she knew only the rudimental outside of Jake.

“You’re also very pretty,” your quick addition accompanies a charming smile.

She can tell you admire Jake so much at this moment. You match his same entranced pretty smile. Wide eyes looking all too eagerly up at her.

“You’re very pretty too,”

Your thumb runs under the lining of her tweng as she compliments you back and you practically purr at the soft and wet feeling her lips greet you with.

“Does it hurt here too?” You ask her, and though it’s half in jest she nods.

“Terribly. You’ll have to help me.”

You’re a bit nervous when she reaches her hand down to untie her bottoms. it’s not until her other hand touches your hip that you snap out of your own thoughts.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit clueless though,”

There’s that pretty charming quip in her voice that reminds you she is a princess and it makes your legs clench but ultimately calms you down over the fact that she cannot really judge your performance without comparison.

“I can show you,” you didn’t know why she made you nervous; “It’ll feel good for both of us,”

She just grins and pulls at one of the strings of your bottoms that you’re cursing for being as intricately worn as they are.

She can’t help but dance her hands down your exposed skin and admire how excited you seemed to be at the prospect of relief.

She’s not even all that pregnant yet and you’re still so gentle as to carefully position your leg to avoid her.

You sit against her a little too quickly, plopping down flush against her own swollen slit out of pure excitement before jolting back up slightly. Just allowing your swollen clits to touch.

It’s not that Neytiri didn’t figure this is how women who mated with other women slept together- but no one ever talked about it. She had heard whispers of women preoccupying themselves during heats, but she was clueless as to how it actually happened or how it could possibly feel satisfying.

Then, however, you started rocking your hips forward a little. She finally got the appeal of the feather light weight you started with. How enthusiastically and quickly you rub yourself against her is hypnotizing. She feels bad for being so into the way your dragging across the wetness between your bodies considering she has Jake but she can’t ignore how nice this is. She wonders which one of you is responsible for the mess- she can believe it’s her- it wouldn’t shock her in the least- but she hopes it’s you. Even though your eyes have already started to close as you nestled your face into her leg you used to balance yourself and your hip's movements stutter and messily ruin the steady build towards both of your orgasms every time you feel too close to cumming.

The feeling of you gliding your warm cunt against her swollen clit has her sighing in lenience. If your careful hands rubbing at her hips and thighs didn’t alleviate the pain she felt before then the way you forced her to focus on the desire to cum has cured it.

“Mmm. You’re doing so good for me- ya you’re right- fe’els good.“ she choked on her own pant as she tries to sit up slightly so she can touch your tail, “Go faster please,”

One hand plays with your nipple as the other uses her outstretched legs as an anchor to grind yourself down onto her at the speeds she requests.

The fact that you turn to look at her but instead get distracted by the oscillation of her full breasts has her hips rolling up to meet you.

“Oh-ohhhh,” and she feels your fall forward at her intrusion as to brace yourself onto your hands. She’s so thankful you were so flexible. So easy for you to loosen your hips open a little more and fuck yourself down onto her.

She felt so good. So much better than what you thought dragging your clit against hers would feel like. You get why Jake folded and betrayed everyone so easily. Her nails running across your thigh or back haphazardly in conjunction with the way you feel your clit slot up against hers makes you shutter.

You really hope you aren’t setting a bad example. You hope she’s feeling just as good as you are, it’s hard for you to turn your head to face her so you focus your energy on making sure your grind down accurately.

You try not to be sloppy- you do the best you can even though she whines and makes you want cum before she could.

You thank Eywa when you feel her nails dig into your hips and the gush of her pussy against yours.

Your, “Oh fuck- fucking hell,” is less ceremonious then her moans but you can’t help it when the added slickness of her orgasm makes it all too easy to trib yourself down against her and chase your own high.

You thank divine timing for finishing just in time for your heart to drop into your stomach at the sound of someone crossing the tree line,

“Huh, woulda’ get a load of this,”

It is a gruff masculine voice that you now vividly recall giving you the order to watch out for his wife- not scissor yourself between her thighs and fuck her.

#neytiri x reader #neytiri smut #neytiri imagine #avatar (2009)#avatar x reader #avatar fandom #avatar smut #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 11 months

Note

PLEASE I need more punknoir headcanons if you have any I LOVE these I LOVE those two <333

(If youre comfortable with it any first kiss HCs?? I would LOVE to see your thoughts)

Oh I HAVE SO MANY SO MANY CUTESY STUFF and also I do have a First Kiss HC!! But this is long as hell so I'll probably post that set of HC next!

Thanks for this :) !

A LONG-ASS LIST OF FLUFFY-ASS PUNKNOIR HEADCANONS

Peter is actually REALLY good at rubix cubes now, especially after Gwen introduced him to speed-solving. He does it as a (slightly-nervous) habit now

Since the rubix cube was invented in 1974 - and Hobie is from 1978 canonically - he is ALWAYS picking up new ones and new designs from his universe to give to Peter

Peter loves them a lot and always keeps one on him, just for boredoms sake

Hobie always chuckles when he hears the sound of Peter clicking away on his rubix cube in the next room

They're both HARDCORE night owls

It's never really 'sunny' in either of their universes, because - one is noir and the other is London

But even then, they like to stay sleep in when they can, and Hobie will keep Peter in bed as long as possible, panda-hugging him like a sloth in the mornings

Their love language is sharing things - it's like words of encouragement, acts of service, and receiving gifts all in one

Hobie and Noir aren't the type to buy many things, or need anything to be brand-new, so books become their way of being with each other always

Noir likes to scribble neat notes in the margin in grey pencil, while Hobie covers his in bright post-its covered in sharpie and hi-lighter.

They've read each of each other's favorites, and always treat each other's books with care. Hobie introduces Peter to so many newer publications his world doesn't have yet, meanwhile Peter finds Hobie the best out-of-print or even non-destroyed books, copies that were destroyed in facist book-burnings in Hobie's world.

They kinda have an anarchist collection and archive at Peter's place

Being with Noir is one of the only times Hobie is super quiet

Hobie loves to listen to the rain at Peter's place, or listening to the scratchy 30's radio playing in the next room. He loves closing his eyes to the crackle of Noir's vinyls, or the sound of Peter typing away on his typewriter as Hobie lays on the couch

Even when Noir is at his place, it's a peaceful kinda quiet

Hobie lives on a canal-boat, so no rent, and no landlord, which Peter loves. And on foggier London nights, he and Peter can float the boat out on the river, sitting in the fog together

Hobie introduces Peter to a lot of new music

His favorite in Hobie's collection is Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, and any other operatic, classical style rock.

They're pretty low-key about their relationship. They're not hiding it, they're just not that big on PDA outside of hand-holding and cheek kisses

But they're still very intimate in public in a different way. Hobie and Peter always asks each other for their opinion in front of others. Peter is always acting chivalrous towards Hobie, and Hobie always speaks highly of Peter.

They may not be making out in public, but their own version of PDA could be just as subtle and sweet, even down to Peter adjusting Hobie's pins, making sure the words are facing up

Or Hobie flicking a piece of colored lint off of Noir, or leaving small bright, collage-style origami for him

It take's Gwen maybe a couple weeks to catch on

She can tell Peter and Hobie are like IN SYNC, like spot on with each other. And that they crash at each others places a lot, but she figures maybe they're just planning some anarchist stuff together

Besides, Noir isn't all that romantic - especially compared to other Peters. He and Felicia don't have that complicated history, and MJ is a friend (i think). So it doesn't really occur to her

Until one day her, Hobie, and Noir are hanging out at Hobie's place and she notices Noir already knows where everything is

Noir knows exactly how Hobie likes his records to be put back, or how much sugar Hobie likes in his coffee and tea

And she's like 'lol u guys are like soulmates'

and Hobie just goes 'glad u noticed.'

and Gwens like 'WAIT'

Peter unironically calls Hobie his 'lover'

Hobie ironically and teasingly calls Peter his 'lover' (he usually sticks with partner, but often goes with boyfriend if he knows it'll get a reaction *ahem* Miguel *ahem*)

They bond over the mutal feeling of 'what the fuck is this technology bullshit' A LOT

Neither one has a proper smartphone (ever since they learned about Siri they call phones wiretaps)

Noir only uses a typewriter and says screens hurt his eyes and the most technologically advanced thing Hobie with entertain is an arcade cabinet or MAYBE a Playstation 1.

But Peter also likes having Hobie explain things to him

Simple things even. SO many times people tell Peter what happens in WW2 in their worlds. It's..not fun to say the least

He likes sitting around, listening to Hobie explain things like the best movies from the 60's, or the best color TV shows

They have a date-night tradition where they try out something 'modern' (aka 1970-2023) and rate it, then write it down somewhere

So far, they both really like the Exorcist. Watching to together for the first time was one of the best dates they've had

(Imagine being from 1933 and watching the Exorcist with no prior context wouldn't that be wild)

Their apartments look SO COOL now that they're together!!

Noir's black and white apartment, covered in shadows and bright pop art posters. Hobie's bedroom half desaturated, half covered in zines and supplies for protests

You know how in old cartoons there's the trope of a dude in a trench-coat and when he opens it it's full of watches as stuff - Noir's coat is like that, but with patches

And Hobie will take newpaper clippings from Peter's Bugle and use them in art and collages because Peter's writing inspires him a lot

He'll use slogans from Peter's writings in his protest art, and use Peter's melodramatic sayings in his song lyrics

------

(once again not proofread because my brain dont do that sorry for typos i do be like that sometimes)

if you made it this far - thxs and i hope you have a rad day

#noirpunk #punknoir #spider punk #spiderpunk #spidernoir #spider noir #peter parker #hobie brown #hobie brown x peter parker #peter parker x hobie brown #noir!peter parker #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spider man #atsv shipping #shipping #headcanons #marvel headcanons

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normatural · 2 years

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Summary: Reader is Aemond’s best friend and different from most of his family, she’s always by his side. Past, present and future. Warning(s): description of injury, otherwise none (if you find something triggering, please let me know) A/N: Aemond is ten years old and the reader is nine in the first part of the story before a time-lapse of nine years in the following part. This is a multi-chapter story.

PART I

[ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE]

The chamber was cast in a warm glow, engulfed in a silence so thick you could hear the fire cracking. and droplets hitting the ground outside, as you just as quietly walked inside, feeling as if you were holding your heart in your hands after all the side whispers you had heard after leaving the princess room, each word clanging to the walls of your head like black mould. Deformed. Blind. Scarred. Stabbed. All of them said the prince was ruined. Some that his face was cut in half. The doer, his youngest nephew, Lucerys Velaryon.

Queen Alicent was sitting by a chair pulled to the side of her son’s bed, watching with distant eyes his dull frame as she chewed on her nail, looking like anything but the queen figure of Westeros.

“My Queen” You bowed as you walked closer, still keeping your distance from the bed as you feared you weren’t ready to be faced with the truth, offering the mother a sympathetic timid smile “Princess Helaena is sleeping and I thought I... I can stay with him if you want. Should something happen, I immediately call for Your Majesty and the Maester. I promise.”

She looked at you with wide glimmering eyes, silent for a moment before she wiped her cheeks and got up, stopping in front of you.

You were sent to the castle to be princess Helaena’s lady in waiting but not so long after your arrival you had become more than simply that. You were a friend to her children, Aemond and the princess herself, even for Aegon at times, with no second intentions but your care and joy for their presence. You allowed some peace in her heart, knowing that Aemond at least had someone beside her who wouldn’t mock his shy being, someone who didn’t care if his Dragon’s egg had hatched already or not. Your care for them came from a pure and kind heart, which reminded her a lot of how she used to be before she had to become the Queen.

“I’d appreciate that” She took both your hands in hers, squeezing them before turning her head to cast a glance at the boy “He could use a friend at the moment, my dear... Though I must say, he hasn’t spoken much since.”

You took a deep breath at the sound of the door closing, smoothing your dress skirt before walking to the side of his bed, pulling the furs up his chest before you dared to face the result of whatever happened after the funeral of Laena. He will be just fine, you thought to yourself before moving your gaze to the swollen and reddish side of his face, where a deep cut started on his forehead and crossed down his eye to end on his cheek, both the slash and his eyes already stitched.

“Hi...” You whispered as Aemond opened his good eye, as well as the mix of herbs the, drank earlier to numb the pain allowed him to, sit down on the chair before reaching for his hand, holding it just like your mother used to with you whenever you were afraid or got hurt, hoping it helps him as much as it did for you “Does... Does it hurt too much?”

It took the boy a single moment to understand it was really you standing there and not his imagination, his heart beating fast at the warmth of your hand on his convinced him that it was truly you. He assumed you’d wish to keep your distance from the disgraceful sight he had become but there you were, looking at him with brows furrowed not in disgust or pity but fear and worry.

“No, not too much” He lied, looking away from the way the glow of the flames danced on your face that somehow made you even prettier in his eyes to glance at the stone wall on the other side of the room. Even if he wished for your presence, he didn’t want you to see him so freshly wounded. He wished you couldn’t see him at all. How could he, one day, ask for your hand? Someone like you shouldn’t be betrothed to a one-eyed, scarred man even if he was in the prince.

“I heard that...” You look to the doors as if someone would step in at any moment before leaning forward to whisper like you were saying the most secret of all secrets and he couldn’t help but gazes at you again, the best he could without moving his aching head “They said you stole the biggest dragon of the Earth and that you flew really, really, high with them!”

You were enamoured with the dragons since the first time you caught glimpse of one on the high sky and had secretly sneaked into the Dragon pit with Aemond the night before, even though you insisted it wasn't a good idea... but you were just as curious as him and what kind of friend would leave him alone?

“It was a fair exchange” Aemond lied once more when he noticed the sparkle in your eyes as you talked about the dragon, squeezing his hand just slightly tighter before you blinked, letting go of it.

“I’m sorry, My Prince. I should let you rest” You smoothed the skirt of your dress, feeling your cheeks burning as you remember you had promised the Queen you would take care of him and talking his ear off in such a state was extremely rude of yours “I’ll be quiet, so quiet like a statue from now on.”

“N-no. I... I like your voice” It was Aemond’s turn to have his cheeks blushing, holding himself from reaching out to your hand again “You can talk, I’m just tired.”

Your eyes searched around the room as an idea came to your mind and you walk to the shelve of books, grabbing one on the lower shelve that didn’t seem to be in old valyrian, smiling to yourself as you notice it was one about the tales about King Aegon the Conqueror, going back to your spot.

“I could read you some of the adventures of Aegon I until you fall asleep... but you must promise me you’ll be alright.”

“Why are you here?” The words blurted from his lips as he looked at the moon disappearing outside before shifting his attention to your small figure.

“What?” You put the book down on your lap, furrowing your brows at his eye blurred with tears and the angry tone of his voice. Did you do something wrong? You knew you should’ve been quieter.

“No one else is here so why are you here, Y/N?” He clenched his fist at his sides, the wave of anger making him snap at you as he seemed to only now realize what happened. How his father did not care about his lost eye, screaming at him even when his son was in such pain because all he wanted was to protect his beloved daughter and his bastards' grandchildren, the very same ones who were responsible for his eye. Where was his older brother when he needed him? His family, except for his mother, didn’t care for him so what were you, an outsider, doing by his side?

“Because I’m your friend and friends must always be there for each other, whatever they need.”

Always there for each other... Aemond thought this was what family was meant to be when he was younger. That’s what he wanted his family to be like. He couldn’t still understand why you cared for him so deeply but it brought warmth to his heart and at that moment, he promised himself he wouldn’t treat you any less than how you treated him. He would show you the same care he wished his family members to share.

The young Targaryen didn’t say anything for the rest of the night, his thoughts getting blurred the more the herbal medicine worked on his system and soon, your voice lulled him to sleep in the middle of the tale about the Dark Sister.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen fanfic

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hcrctic · 1 year

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hc | 80′s st verse wanda is a fan of the cure, the smiths, also kate bush.

#tbh love song is my favorite ship song ever #babooshka makes me sad #and lets not talk at theres a light that never goes out #🌙 — the queen of peace always does her best to please; is it any use? somebody's gotta lose | headcanon

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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Criston cole x alicent daughter reader maybe aemonds sister and it be like when the dinner happens or something idk I just sadly love him

I SADLY LOVE INCEL KNIGHT TOO HE JUST— UGHGNGGNGNGBGNG ANGST

Immaculate - Ser Criston Cole

Ratings: Mature

Tags: Fantasies from Criston (no actual touch), his hateful internal monologue, anxiety attacks, weird pseudo Incest moments w Step daddy Cole, star crossed lovers type beat, Mentions of self-harm. This is just kinda angsty and strange

Criston waited outside the doors after the King was escorted away in a coughing fit, his disease taking over again. He was on guard for the Queen, always, as was his duty as sworn shield. Once the maesters were secured with the wasting king he had returned. Alicent had let royal guards stay on the inside of the room as his appearance may ‘unnerve’ some.

He knew what she meant. The cunt and her bastard seed. It made his chest swell with anger, bitterness, and that residual hurt he would never disclose to another. Just her whore he was. Years hadn’t quelled the ache when the knight thought back on it. So he tried not to.

Instead Criston spent the time attempting to overcome that eternal shame and stain on his once pristine white cloak and take care of the true born Targaryens, strange as they could be. He loved them all in their own way. An unsettled feeling sat in his gut from the ongoing dinner. There had been peace for too long and Viserys wasn’t there to hold up that invisible wall between the two clans.

As predicted, the dinner erupted into chaos. Criston entered from the back as Daemon was glaring down Aemond who simply swaggered off. Otto and Helaena stood awkwardly as the youngest princess watched with wide eyes. Rhaenyra and the rogue prince left immediately. Criston eyed Aegon who ambled back over to finish his cup.

The heir giggled at his sisters, “Wasn’t that grand?”

Otto sniped, “Extremely distasteful, shoving the lad’s head into the table and acting like children.”

Aegon, tongue rendered loose and bitter when he was in his cups began to argue with his grandsire. Criston locked eyes with Alicent, her own brimming with emotion. She ordered, “Take her to bed please.” He nodded dutifully and offered an arm to the second-born daughter, the poor thing grabbing him like a lifeline.

She would get overwhelmed quickly, not a good trait to have for a Targaryen. Alicent mused about sending her to be a Septa for years. Until the matter of the succession loomed ever closer. Septa had upgraded to a political pawn for whoever could offer gold and an army. Although the process had been stagnant. Criston didn’t mind that, much as he couldn’t speak of it, she was his favorite.

“There’s a war coming,” she warbled, doe eyes wide.

“Not yet sweetling, it may come to pass,” he hummed, squeezing her arm with his other hand as they passed through long halls. She shook blonde locks and pressed on, “No, no, I know it, look how we hate one another. That was dreadful. Mother’s going to sell me to a Lannister and make me take Gharion into battle.”

She whimpered at the end of her sentence, steps stumbling a bit. Criston looked down in concern, brows furrowing at his distressed princess. He wasn’t the best with comforting…still he would try. Rubbing her slim arm again he shushed, “Shh, hush now, you’re going to drive yourself up a wall thinking of things that haven’t occurred.”

Arriving at her chambers, he tried to dislodge her tight grip gently. The princess held on with a death grip, lilac eyes feverish as she begged, “Please don’t leave me alone, please Ser Cole.” He frowned, chest flipping and clenching at her cracking voice. The knight knew better, he just needed to get her to bed and leave. Last time he stepped foot in a Targaryen princess’ bedchambers it did not end well.

“I can’t sweetling, I’ll be out and about on patrol, not far away,” he said softly.

More tears leaked from gorgeous eyes. Criston was going to lose his already cracked willpower, he knew that much. “Please, please, I don’t want to be alone,” she wept, beginning to shake. He grimaced at her face going ashen and the tremors becoming worse, breath thinning into heaves. “Oh princess,” he sighed and picked the slip of a thing up.

She was having another fit, something the maesters said was due to ‘a hysterical temperament’. Shaking and crying and sucking in breaths until she received a couple drops of diluted poppy milk. He hated seeing them, made him want to coddle and pet her. Then he’d feel disgusting afterwards, emotions all twisted for the princess about less than half his age. The Seven cursed him for that.

“Where’s the poppy milk,” the brunette asked, laying her down on the impossibly huge bed. She managed to point a shaky finger at the large wardrobe. In two strides Criston opened it up and found the little glass bottle, swirling it around. Coming to perch on the bed he held the dropper out for the Princess, leaving two upon her tongue.

She relaxed soon after, but little hands were back tight in his cloak, twisted up. Criston clenched his jaw, unsure of how to navigate this. The princess asked sleepily, “Ser Criston, you’ll escort me to Casterly Rock right? And stay a bit? What if Lord Lannister is mean and awful to me?”

Criston would gladly rip the idiot’s throat out and present it to court if he put a hand on his sweetling. In the calmest voice possible Cole responded, “Yes I’m sure there will be Kingsguard present, knowing the Queen I’ll be there on watch for a bit.” She sighed softly, seeming more relaxed.

Silence enveloped the pair for a long time, Criston lost in his hateful thoughts. He needed to repent later. Drawing his sick blood would suffice. Shuffling and covers moving sounded from behind. The knight stiffened when she put her chin on his pauldron, hands finding his own. The princess murmured in a slight slur, “I love you Ser Criston. You always take good care of me.”

He wanted to cry but the brunette held her soft hands and hummed, “I love you too dear girl, don’t fret, I’ll protect you as long as I can.” She nuzzled into his dark hair, making no further moves, breathing in his scent. Scenes of stretching her pretty cunt flitted past his mind, her heaving pale body, melodic voice raw from crying his name. Dragging his cock along her innocent folds, the maiden incarnate.

Criston blinked and realized he needed to get out of here, very fast. He rasped to the princess, “I need to get on duty now sweet girl. I’ll be back later I promise.” She looked unhappy, begging a couple more times as Criston laced up and put on his helmet. He shook his head and shrugged her off, heart cracking in his chest.

“Ser please,” she whined, lilac eyes watery and so so achingly pure. Criston shook his head and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She gasped and stared, hands dropping. “You promise you’ll come back?,” she warbled. He nodded resolutely, beginning to shut the door. Criston wanted to beat himself black and blue doing his rounds.

The Seven constantly testing him by sending these abominable Targaryens, so impure yet there she was. He was weak and already failed once, he couldn’t fail again. Criston still came back to her chambers after the hour of the Wolf, exhausted. He sat down in a chair and watched her ethereal face, the moonlight casting a glow on perfect features.

Hatred boiling and churning in his chest Criston began to pull at his lower armor, what she wouldn’t know wouldn’t hurt. He’d take that pain for the girl fifty times over. That’s what Criston was here for anyways. Pain. Tarnish everything that may have once been good on his body.

#hotd fanfic #criston cole x reader #targ princess!reader

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calisources · 3 months

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𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄.

All sentences are taken from different books from Phillipa Gregory, specially her series about the historical fiction setting of the war of roses and the tudors era. Change names, locations, pronouns and nouns as you see fit for your own liking. Some of these have slight foul language or involve insuation of sexual situations. Please beware. This is part one.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

If it means something, take it to heart. If it means nothing, it's nothing. Let it go.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

At night I dream of him, all day I wait to see him, and when I do see him my heart turns over and I think I will faint with desire.

A man will always promise to do more than he can do to a woman he cannot understand.

I would know you anywhere for my true love.

Whoever I was and whoever you were, I would know you at once for my true love.

When a woman thinks her husband is a fool, her marriage is over.

The world hasn't changed that much; men still rule.

If you go on flirting with the king with those sickly little smiles, one of us Boleyns is going to scratch your eyes out

What a pair we shall be! What man can resist us?

You have to choose the best, every day, without compromise...guided by your own virtue and highest ambition.

I never thought it would end like this. I never thought he would leave me without saying goodbye.

But I don't forget and I don't forgive.

A woman has to change her nature if she is to be a wife.

To be a good wife is to be a woman with a will of iron that you yourself have forged into a bridle to curb your own abilities.

But I am above these judgments, I am a Queen.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

I was born to be your rival.

Know your rights.

When they see us dance. When they see how you look at me. When they see how I smile at you.

I have learned the power of surviving.

I was a woman who was capable of passion and who had a great need and a great desire for love.

Good god what men can do to their brains when their cocks are hard.

They are a house which has to have blood, and they will shed their own if they have no other enemy.

I want to take you for pleasure, and hold you in my arms for desire.

I want you to know that it is your kiss that I want, not another heir to the throne.

You can know that I love you, quite for yourself, when I come to your bed, and not as the York’s broodmare.

You think to bed me for love and not for children? Isn’t that sin?

I shall make sure that it feels richly sinful.

Some women attract desire. Others do not.

Every woman has to have something which singles her out, which catches the eyes, which makes her the center of attention.

If it has to be done at all, it must be done with grace.

She was speaking out for the women of the country, for the good wives who should not be put aside just because their husbands had taken a fancy to another.

Because all books are forbidden when a country turns to terror.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you are a woman, and a courtier.

War does not answer war, war does not finish war. The only ending is peace.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Yes, but either way, shamed or not, I shall be Queen of England, and this is the last time you will sit in my presence.

I am not a yard of ribbon. I am not a leg of ham. I am not for sale to anyone.

We have to be more royal than royalty itself or nobody will believe us.

I betrayed as a daughter will betray her mother and yet, never stop loving her.

I am an object of beauty. He has never loved me as a woman.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

And I wanted to give myself to him: not for advantage, but for desire.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for his touch.

It is luck to love someone who is free to love you in return.

Just decide that you are not going to be a fearful woman and when you come to something that makes you apprehensive, you face it and walk towards it

This was my destiny: to put my son on the throne of England.

This is a woman whose belly is filled with pride.

She has been eating nothing but her own ambition for nearly thirty years.

Plainly, she is quite besotted by him,... a girl, a young girl, and she is falling in love for the first time in her life.

And – I think you know, don’t you? – that I love you, Anne.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

You don't need to struggle, your baby is coming.

You give birth, you don't force birth or besiege it. It's not a battle, it's an act of love. You give birth to your child and you can do it gently.

But young hearts mend easily.

Either you have me or not at all. Either you love me or not at all. Either I am all yours or I am nobody’s. I will have no half-measures with you.

Men die in battle; women die in childbirth.

shall put a curse on their house that they will have no first born son to inherit.

Have you ever wondered, Anne, in your untiring dance of seduction, whether you might not be dancing to Henry's tune instead of your own?

I am a Queen. It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

My honour and my pride are in my heart, and not in what the world says.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

But I warn you that a woman who seeks great power and wealth has to pay a great price.

Every woman is a mad ugly bad old witch somewhere in her heart.

My own mother told my lady governess that if the baby and I were in danger then they should save the baby.

She has a smile that grows slowly and then shines, like an angel’s smile.

Jane would be the next queen and her children, when she had them, would be the next princes or princesses.

I am mad for you.

You're not cursed daughter, you are the finest and rarest of all my children, the most beautiful, the most beloved.

One’s lover is one’s partner in observing and understanding the world.

Marriage is a place where joint narratives are composed. If the lover is a liar then all your joint observations are unreliable.

If it was not in your interests to betray me then you would have been loyal.

I am marrying the finest man I have ever known.

You can have my glove, my favour.

Nobody gets to be Queen of England by being loveable. You will have to play your cards right.

Thomas More once told me: lion or king, never show fear or you are a dead man.

When I marry you, everything I have becomes yours.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #royal scheme #royal concept #phillipa gregory book quotes

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frankcastleonlyfans · 2 years

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𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

pairing: aemond targaryen x daemon's daughter!oc (dad!daemon x mom!reader au)

summary: alyssa does not know how babies are made. fortunately, cousin aemond is always there for her <3

warnings: allusions to sex, mentions of pregnancy, slight corruption kink (?), aemond getting a boner

author's note: should i write smut? i noticed i have never done an actual sexual thing in this series, so i'm wondering if i should. is it something you guys want to see or should i keep it family friendly? 😏

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

dad!daemon x mom!reader masterlist

gif by @useraelin

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

Recently, Alyssa received the news she is to become an aunt. Cerelle and Rhaegon are expecting a child.

But then she wondered, how did that happened?

Cerelle and Rhaegon have been married for three years now, and this is their first child.

And Helaena and Aegon already have the twins, but she is pregnant again.

Alyssa knew that a woman needed to be married to create a baby, but why it took her brother and sister-in-law so long? And how did they actually did it?

Alyssa tried asking her Septa, but the old lady said the same thing she always says when it comes about pregnancy; "You will find out when you marry some lord."

But would she? Alyssa was becoming too old to marry, and no lord could ask for her hand.

Because when she was 15, the King announced her betrothal to Aemond, to seal the peace between his brother and the Queen, and also between the Eye Ripper Lady and the One Eyed-Prince.

The marriage that never happened, the smallfolk so called.

But Daemon forbade the wedding to go on, and Viserys did not let the princess be free to marry someone other than his son.

And the Rogue Prince said; "So we will wait for you to die, brother."

Daemon thought his brother did not have much time forward, so he chose to wait patiently for the King to perish, than let his beloved daughter marry his fucked up nephew.

And technically, that makes Alyssa still betrothed to Aemond.

And fearing she would never have the answer for her questions in the proper way, she decided to ask her cousin and sister-in-law.

The girls were enjoying tea inside the Women's Hall, and Alyssa made use of the short moment that neither her mom, nor the Queen, nor their septas were in the room.

"How does a lady come to be with child?" Alyssa asked, directly.

Cerelle gasped, almost choking on her tea.

Helaena frowned, her eyes leaving her embroidery to look at her cousin.

"Alyssa, what a question!" Cerelle scolded, "That is a subject only for married women."

"I know, but why took you so long to get pregnant?" Alyssa was genuinely curious, and that amused Helaena.

"Books are knowledge's best friend. But not always the answer can be found in them. The library is the books' best friend." Helaena said, in riddles, like always.

Alyssa sighed defeated. She left the Women's Hall and went to the library. But not to look for her answer, again, but to find distraction so, she could free her mind from that unceasing curiosity.

And she found him there.

Aemond being in the library at the very same time as her was starting to get under her skin. But in a good way.

He said he has been going there for years, and yet they have never crossed each other, until these past months, which now they have been doing often.

They kept a friendly relationship ever since they apologized to each other, but neither of them mentions the kiss.

"I hope you're not reading about dragons again." Alyssa murmured to get his attention.

The prince closed the book he held in one hand, and his eye met hers, "I hope you are not losing your sleep again, it is noon yet."

"I'm just annoyed, thought I could find some distraction here." She smirked, hopping on top of the huge table in the middle of the room.

Aemond left the armchair he sat, and stood next to her, leaning himself over a bookshelf.

"What happened?"

"You can't help me. Apparently it is a matter for married people only." Alyssa shrugged, balancing her legs in the air.

Aemond chuckled, "I am a very vivid man, cousin. Maybe I can have your answer."

"Do you know how does a lady come to be with child?"

Aemond felt the air vanish from his lungs. He was expecting anything but that.

"Cerelle and Helaena won't tell me, there is no book about pregnancy here, my Septa, who apparently is supposed to teach me everything, will not, and something is telling me not to ask my parents about it." The girl whined.

Aemond smirked. The idea of corrupting that feisty little thing crossed his mind, and he felt his pants getting tighter to that thought.

"The answer to your question is quite indecent. Do you really want to know?"

"Yes!" Alyssa grabbed his shoulders excitedly.

Aemond almost groaned to her touch.

"First, a man and a woman need to have sex. Then, the man will spill his seed inside of her. His seed grows a baby inside the woman's womb." Aemond licked his lips, watching the girl almost crashing to so much information.

"Wait! They need to do what? What kind of seed? How does a seed become a human being? You're not making any sense, Aemond!" Alyssa frowned.

Aemond placed his hand on her thigh, caressing it softly with his thumb.

"Would you like me to show it to you?"

#aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen x reader #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader headcanons #dad!daemon targaryen x mom!reader au #dad!daemon targaryen au

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