#even though I have the entire book series
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His Sapphire Princess (IX)
After the night in the brothel Rhaenyra is married to Laenor Velayron to protect the birth of her child. who in the years to follow is the only one of Rhaenyra's children that is believed to be his, she is loved by all in the red keep, even queen Alicent adores the girl, so when Rhaenyra proposes a marriage between Aemond and Rhaenyra's daughter Visenya, Alicent happily agrees.
The children having been best friends in their youths are more than happy to be wed but when the incident at drift mark occurs things change, will it be for better or worse?
word count: 2,455
CW: angst? some fluff (like they reunite and don't hate each other and decide to start over), tensions, refrences of past SA, not proofread!
Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen
Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part
disclaimer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC
a/n i hate this, but it's kind of a filler chapter anyway
Aemond
Aemond had been both eager and nervous for her return.
Though counting down the days, planning on how he would greet you, he also was scared.
He know she felt ignored by him, betrayed by how he had just stopped replying to her letters. Ignored her name days, ignored her completely.
But that was not entirely true. He had wanted so badly to reply, writing letter upon letter, though some were just mindless scribbles. But not once did he find he wrote a letter worthy of her, worthy of the emotions he felt. He needed space and he had shown he needed it in the worse possible way.
He had hated how he knew some version of her, a guarded version. Her letters expressing less and less, over time just mere updates of her life before stopping altogether. And he hated that the version she knew of him was the scared little boy he had tried so hard to get ride of.
The version of Aemond he had gotten ride of, in all ways but with her. He wanted to be the old Aemond with her, but hated that he did. It was why he needed the space, the time to heal, the time to become the man he is today.
But as he stood in the training yard, staring at her as she talked to him, so ddiffernt, so cold.
He knew he made a mistake.
She was so different, she had changed, and not just her personality.
But her looks also. Gods she was the most stunning and beautiful woman he had ever seen, he had always thought it impossible for her to become more beautiful.
But her beauty was clouded by the look in her eyes, the anger, the hurt and the loneliness.
She looked so alone, even as she walked out the courtyard with her brothers, laughing. She same old melodic laugh that could capture a room. The loneliness ceased slightly when he looked into them, as if she was finally being seen.
He understood. There eyes always talked to each other, expressing their true emotions, it why he knew his eyes mirrored hers, but they also showed another emotion, regret.
Regret for reading your letters time and time again, annotating them as if they were quotes from his favourite novel. Regret from the stack of unsent letters he kept in his bedside draw.
Each filled with his thoughts. Most mindless scribbles, unfished letters ending with angry scribbled out words as words escaped him, as fear filled him.
He had tried to write of the events in his life even detailing his fights with Ser Criston, his rides with Vaghar, the books he read. And yet he could never send them, fear of her seeing his liefe and not understanding why he needed the space, or fear that he would see the darkest parts of his mind grew as the years went on. The sweet kind boy she had once new fading, and a cruel, vengeful man taking his place.
He had once longed to be a protector, her sworn sword, doing good in her name. now…now he revelled in fear. He loved how the woman would run at the sight of his sapphire eye, a sight he knew deep down she never would. He revelled in revenge, revenge by going to the brothel, the place of his hurt, and burning it.
It was ruthless, but the second he had done it, he felt free, healed.
And yet fear still gripped at him, fear of wheat you know thought of him.
Fear that she would not accept the new him, but as he had started at you he felt like the old sweet Aemond was still in there somewhere, but only for her, his Sapphire.
Watching her sway away he knew he had limited time, this week was the first week of their official courtship, but the week after they would begin the moon long celebrations for their wedding.
Celebrations were they would spend day after day, hour after hour together being the perfect couple.
And he didn’t want it to be an act.
He had returned to his rooms, opening his bedside draw, but instead of reaching for her letter he reached for his own, and realised what he wanted to do.
He waited, two days. Two days of agony.
He had somehow hoped those two days he would be able to approach her, talk to her. But now, all he could was watch her. Watch her spend day after day in someone else’s company
Whether it was one of the tens of ladies begging for her favour and chance at becoming her lady, or her brother Jace, or even Aegon.
Gods he had forgotten about Aegon’s obsession with her. He knew they wrote, Aegon often bragging about it. With Aegon telling him about her, their little jokes, their shared secrets.
Not that he was jealous, no. He was not jealous of how Aegon seemed to act as if they were betrothed to each other. For two days they seemed to walk everywhere together, sit with each other at dinners. Though her eyes were often searching for Aemond’s, Aegon’s eyes were always firmly planted on her. And whenever she wasn’t with him, he was like a lost pup, waiting for her to appear.
Those two days, though never alone they often found the other staring, their mouths would being to form words that they were never able to form. And so he finally built up the courage and sent her his letters.
Visenya
When she had received Aemond’s letters she did not know what to expect.
They had appeared on her dresser, all 112 of them. Though some were scrapes of paper with random thoughts scribbled across them. One just one word repeated, 110 times.
Her name written, again and again, in the same neat, perfect handwriting Aemond had always had.
She then realised what this was, an apology.
She found the first letter he wrote that was left unsent, and she felt her heart break.
Dearest Visenya,
I am so sorry, I can not say why it has taken so long for me to only now reply.
Prepahs it was the guilt.
I never should of come to Winterfell, You had been kind and sweet, but I fear your kindness is unwarranted. I do not desire pity, I regret coming that night, I regret allowing you to see me so weak and scared. My whole life I have sworn to be your protector, your sword. And that night as I cried in your arms I felt like a small child, I felt smaller than when I did when Lucerys tore out my eye. And I hated it.
I have tried to look past it, look at it in away where I do not come across a whiny little boy and I am nothing but ashamed.
I had hoped to write you, bragging of my successes and yet all I can do I wallow In self pity at how I acted that night.
It matters not that I bested ser Criston for the first time, or how often I ride Vaghar.
For all I can think about it the look of pity you gave me.I do not need nor want your pity, my sapphire.
You gave me a place to stay and a place to cry, but I shall make it clear to you that the Aemond you saw that night is long gone. And shall never return. He can never return, not for you not for anyone.
So sweet, I shall not answer your request to come to Winterfell, I need the space, the time and so do you.
I fear distance is what we need, though we may hate it, I need to become Prince Aemond, and not just scared little Aemond, the boy who lost is eye, the boy who cried in your arms.
Yours, whether I say it or not,
Aemond
Dearest Visneya,
It has been near six moons since I last wrote you, and you are writing less and less.
I have been cruel, I know. I have ignored you in the favour of bettering myself.
I do not deserve you, or your kindness even still.
You seem to be doing well, a fact I envy not too see. But I myself am not.
I miss you more and more each day, I find myself looking for you ate very turn. And yet it has been over a year since you were at the red keep.
So much has changed, Aegon and Heleana are to wed soon, I have started training with a real sword.
I no longer wake in sweats from that night.
So much has changed and yet I have so little words to say, I hate it!
I used to have all the words in the world for you, never once fearing how you viewed me. For I knew how you viewed me then.
And now I fear you will judge me.
Hate me.
Resent me.
I fear I have become a stranger, and yet I have a dozen unsent letters all addressed to you, read and read time and time again your own.
I know you, and I fear you.
Fear your opinion of me, how you view me.
I fear-
Most of his letters just ended, frustration finding him far to quickly, some were just mindless words and phrases.
Visenya,
I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you I miss you .
Some were hateful, words said in anger, at how she still cared.
Dear Visenya,
Stop writing me.
How long must I ignore you to realise I want not to know you as we once did.
How am I to become the man you desire we spend all our time writing each other, stuck in our silly little heads!
Then gossip filled the red keep, gossip that Cregan had asked for your hand.
Visneya,
please, my sapphire, I beg of you do not marry him!
Your mother bids it but I do not!
Please.
And then her letters had stopped and he left once last letter to her.
Visneya,
Please, don’t stop writing me!
I know I have not been a friend to you but a stranger but without your letters the world has stopped.
I now I am a hypocrite, a hypocrite who cannot find the words. Who never has been able to speak his feelings, but show them.
I know not of a gesture to prove I want you till, I crave you and I need you.
but please, I cannot live without you, knowing you, please.
Please!
forever your Aemond.
Gods, she thought, he had to been hurt. Though not by her, and she had resented him for it. Resented how he had opened up to her, and then abandoned her ignored her for so long.
She knew it was hard for, he was never one for words. Gestures yes, but words? They always frustrated him, he could never formulate his feelings and yet this, the scribbled erratic thoughts and letters, unedited and rushed. They showed so much but also so little.
She has spent the whole day reading those letters, seeing no one bar her maid delivering her meals. And had it not been for her mother coming to grab her for dinner, demanding her presence, she would have sat on her thoughts all day and night.
But as she was sat next to Aemond she realised she would have less time to think on what Aemond’s gesture meant and what it meant for them.
“Aemond” she greeted, flipping her hair to the side as she sat.
“Senya” he greeted in response, eyes firmly on her.
She squirmed in her seat, unsure on where to start. “Senya” he said again, capturing her attention, as they made eye contact some tension left her body.
“why?” she asked, its all she could think of, why?
He coughed awkwardly, clearly not expecting this conversation now, “I was never one for words, Visneya. But gestures, have always been something I excel at.” He moved his head closer to her, their conversation too private for prying eyes. “ I never should have ignored you, I know realise, it hurt us both, more than I ever thought” he shifted in his seat “seeing the look in your eyes when you arrived and realising I had made a mistake”
She nodded, urging him on, as she began to plate up her food.
“I focused solely on myself, I was selfish, but I won’t lie to you, my sapphire”
My sapphire, she liked that.
“I have become selfish and cruel, I have become a man who craves fear, but not from you, never from you”
“then what do you want from me?” she asked softly, before nervously looking to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation. “you did not want companionship from me, you ignored me for years on end, and yet by the end of the moon we will be wed!” she took a breath “if you have truly become selfish, and cruel, how do I know that it is for your betterment? And how will I know that you wont ever make me fear you?”
“because I became that person, so that I never have to feel fear again, feel the fear I felt at Driftmark, at that… at that brothel” she sighed, taking her hand in his “ I want to be your protector, it is all I have ever wanted, and how could I become that if I remained that scared, naïve little boy?”
Everything he was saying was true, but it also made her realize she did not know him anymore.
She breathed in “perhaps we should start over? Get to know one another again?”
He nodded, “I would like that”
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#aemond fanfiction#house of the dragon#aemond targeryen#aemond targaryen smut#hotd#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targeryen x oc#ewan nation#aemond targaryen x reader#house of the dragon aemond#his sapphire princess#aemond#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond smut#aemond x oc#aemond targaryen x you#dark aemond targaryen#aemond x original female character#aemond x reader#aemond x targaryen! reader#aemond x you#hotd aemond
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my long ass avery rant that might not make sense but i love her and needed to make this.
a huge rant about my love for avery (i swear im not hating on anyone (except for avery haters... sort of. i respect your opinion but...)) i think the end of my rant makes more sense than the beginning...
IVE MADE A POST ABOUT THIS BUT ILL SAY IT AGAIN. STOP OVERLOOKING AVERY'S TRAUMA. SHE IS SO UNDERRATED AND SUCH A COMPLEX CHARACTER AND I CAN'T STAND PEOPLE IGNORING HER. PEOPLE IN THIS FANDOM BARELY POST ABOUT HER AND IT'S UNBEARABLE (LIKE NO HATE CAUSE I LOVE ALL THE LYRA POSTS BUT HOW ARE PEOPLE POSTING MORE ABOUT A CHARACTER NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT AND NOT AVERY??? LIKE I SAID NOT HATE, I EAT THE LYRA POSTS UP).
she's literally the best character in the series. the brothers don't even come close to her. people who are mad at her for not picking grayson can actually just shove it up their ass bc gray and avery would've never worked out in the long run. avery is a queen and i see people hating on her for so many stupid reasons. not picking gray? giving away the money? being an emily 2.0????????????????????????????? don't even dare compare my queen, my love, my everything to that wretched beast who is now rotting in a coffin underground. some people making reviews on goodreads seriously need to get a life and touch some grass.
as im rereading the main trilogy, i'm writing down quotes from avery so i can make an in depth analysis of her character. it might suck and it will definitely be multiple parts but if no one is gonna acknowledge her trauma, i will. i'm sick and tired of people constantly ranting about grayson and other characters when avery is literally the main character. none of this series would exist if it weren't for avery. the fact that some people are willing to defend their favorite characters when they hurt avery is so so sad to me. like, i love jameson with my entire heart, but treating avery like a puzzle and messing with her self esteem was not cool of him. same goes for grayson and him treating avery like a shitty gold digger who 'hasn't struggled like he has'
i've made posts about this before but i feel the need to make another one. i've seen people defend grayson for treating avery like shit in the first book (some people do it as a joke which is fine but some people are actually serious and it confuses me??). i get that grayson was mad and disappointed that his grand father disinherited him after a lifetime of being told he was going to inherit. his feelings were 100% valid. did he have the right to take it out on avery though? no. not at all. this girl is even more confused that he is and has been nothing but kind to him. him invalidating her feelings and treating her like crap is just so shitty of him. don't get me wrong. he has redeemed himself and i do love him, but seeing people defending him (in a serious way) just gets on my nerves. would you like to be treated the way avery was in tig? i think not.
i'm not as mad about jameson bc 1. he apologized on 'screen' and 2. i don't see people defending him as much as grayson (i don't think i've ever seen a post defending him which is good). i love him too, and what he did was also horrible. i better not ever see a post defending him. his actions are explainable but that doesn't justify them. he really messed with avery's self-esteem, so much as to make her doubt his feelings towards her. the only reason i'm not as mad as with the grayson situation is bc i don't see people defending him as passionately (if at all).
i see this happen in so many fandoms. people gush over the male love interest or the male main character and completely ignore the fmc. the only fandom i don't see this happening in is the folk of the air fandom. jude is getting the attention she deserves which makes me so happy. people willingly ignore what the fmc goes through at the hands of their favorite male character just bc they love them and that is just so absurd to me.
anyways, avery has been through so much fucking trauma it would take me hours to go through it all. she grew up with almost no one by her side, learning how to take care of/protect herself, lost her mother at 15, her best friend moved away a few years before her mom died, her father treated her like dog shit and completely ignore her for her entire life until she inherited the money, she lived in her car, worked her ass off at school and at work to simply keep herself alive, had to deal with drake (although she wasn't his girlfriend, he clearly affected her if she was willing to move into her car bc of him), was almost killed by drake (and, indirectly, skye), sheffield, and eve (and kidnapped by sheffield), it was mentioned on tfg (i believe) that there were other attempts on her life in between thl and tfg, dealt with people constantly belittling her trauma (and her) and saying horrible things about her, she deals with horrible panic attacks after everything she's been through, also deals with crappy self esteem (that was made worse by some of the hawthornes), her privacy was constantly invaded, and, this one is more subtle, but there are instances where she thinks (or does) self harm (like the scene in thl where she's purposefully trying to hurt herself by punching the brick wall blocking off toby's wing. both oren and jameson had to step in to help her). all of these things clearly affected her but barely anyone talks about it? i'm probably missing some things but i just wish she got more attention. she is one of the most forgiving (literally too forgiving. she's willing to forgive people so easily bc she wants to be wanted (but doesn't want to want to be wanted) and have friends)
this girl is much stronger than anyone gives her credit for (the hawthornes would never survive in the 'asylum where they raised her' (whos afraid of little old me by avery is definitely her song)). this rant is probably all over the place and is really long (but definitely won't be the last). thank you for attending my ted talk.
#the inheritance games#jameson hawthorne#avery grambs#grayson hawthorne#nash hawthorne#xander hawthorne#libby grambs#averyjameson
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E12: Don’t be afraid, just start the tape:
So, first of all - what magnificent acting from everyone in this episode. Oh my! They’re all utterly wonderful! I’m going to point it out at certain points as I go, but oh my - they are all wondrous! And the language - every line of this episode mattered!
I found it interesting to reflect on vampire versus human perspective on both life and immortality in this episode - Daniel perceives immortality as an opportunity to seize existence eternally and truly LIVE life, while the vampires themselves dwell in existential malaise…. And is THIS that makes Daniel fascinating..?
Daniel ‘grabbing’ syntax - the bit where Louis refers to himself in the third person… now we have to rewatch the entire show with this in mind, to see when else Louis or Armand referred to themselves this way…?!
“Someone half in love with an easeful death” - How Louis refers to Armand’s victims when he can’t find an evildoer are the exact words Armand later says to Daniel
Louis has more of an ease with himself in San Francisco, while at the same time being the most lost we have ever seen him. He’s more at ease with his nature - in his posture; in killing… but not in all ways - clearly!
“Cocaine’s a fun boy’s drug. I’m not fun.” LOL @ Louis, the truther!
Louis: “Do you want to now?” To Dubai-Daniel. Audience: YES PLEASE! Off you GO!
Louis’ sheer check shirt is TOO GOOD. I love it. I want it.
IS one of them the Zodiac killer though? We need to look at that victim list from earlier than 1973…
“You were lonely, Louis, you were floundering…”
Jacob’s acting - he’s so great in this episode, but I especially adored the way he eviscerates Lestat! Jacob is hilarious! And it’s funny, like it is in the books! So over the top… Louis leaning in to the tape like his words are weapons to lure Lestat towards him. It’s so redolent to what Lestat did in creating his Come to Me recording with Antoinette’s voice… except the opposite - Lestat created a loving thing, but used his lovers voice on the loving thing to anger Louis… Louis twists Lestat into the most spiteful thing and I absolutely love that they included the concept in the books that would hurt Lestat the most of all - when Louis says that his piano playing is emotionless. “He played without an iota of feeling.. with all the emotional acuity of a MONSTER!” Yeah Louis, THAT will draw Lestat out…
And while I’m on the note of music - how interesting the music in this episode… that single-note hypnotic piano pedal that keeps coming back over and over again - anticipatory…. The meagre, fractured strings… utterly unlike the music in this series outside this episode
And Louis, just wanting Daniel to agree… getting him high ought to make him more acquiescent… and yet, he gets more than he bargained for… Daniel still notices subtext in what Louis is saying and doing, and it intrigues Louis… for what do these eternal beings truly want, but to be entirely understood…?
Daniel pointing out Lestat was Louis’ first love, even amid Louis’ trash talk
Daniel “I’m with her…. Get off that bench, brother.”
Daniel’s confidence in his SELF when asking for the dark gift - the confidence of a truly young man. And How great is Luke - let’s say it now. He is SO Eric. His fear, his bravado, how scared for him you feel
The way Dubai-Daniel trusts Louis here, showing him the laptop
Armand: What if it was published? You don’t have enough to fear from Paris?
“You are so BORING. Colourless. Flavourless. Dull. Dull. Dull nights, dull weeks, dull months, dull as f… Suffocation by the world’s softest, beigest pillow… the ten hours I spent with that boy were more exciting than decades with you.” OK but tell us what you REALLY feel, Louis, LOLOLOLOLOL
Armand’s mocking impression of Louis “Oh, it’s so hard to be me!!!” And Louis retaliating. God, I LOVE their argument! A perfect mix of awful, painful… and hilarious!!! (Imagine Lestat laughing…)
The name unuttered in our home for 23 years
“She didn’t love you. Not like he did. Not like I have.” They’re going there with Claudia!
“Can you hear her? She’s calling me…”. Claudia’s ghost is clearly what calls Louis to going into the sun and I wonder if this is foreshadowing and if that image of Claudia in the sunlight could be Claudia’s ghost at the end of the series, but this time we can see her… again calling Louis…?
“The floor slants slightly North. The blood flowed that way.” This line is repeated a few times by Armand… and I didn’t understand why, but it felt important. Did anyone understand why.
Gosh the language in this episode is beautiful - poetic, play-like, and so much of Anne’s words.
“He’s fine. He’s just one.” Echoes of Armand telling Lestat how unharmed Nicki was….
“He confessed his innermost secrets to you” - the betrayal of emotional intimacy
“You’re going to teach me how to be fascinating.” OK… now is the moment. Love letter to Assad Zaman and to Armand. It is just heartbreaking the way he needs something from Daniel here. In this episode, Armand saves Louis’ life. He is a conduit for Louis’ true love’s voice. In fact, he does so much in love for Louis… And yet he is told he is boring.
The irony is that Armand IS special!!! He is absolutely the most complex vampire… he just doesn’t understand how to love or be loved… and Louis is NOT his "one"! But he is SO fascinating! And special. All of the edits to Radiohead's Creep PLEASE!!!!
I also find it WONDROUS in a show about vampires - where vampires are always a metaphor to The Outsider... yet... in art, The Outsider is often portrayed in in my opinion - an unrealistic way, as in "actually the outsider is infinitely special, really!", BUT IN ARMAND, the writers have given us a truly actually special character who truly feels like many outsiders do - that they are irrevocably flawed and there is something significant truly missing in them (us) - AND is told by the person he loves SO much he would literally be a pathway to their other love that he is boring and not special and not enough... THAT is relatable! (Even though nobody has told me this, as I am simply isolated, personally! Yet, still, I feel it!)
“A splinter of coldness in you. Is that what makes you fascinating?” “Even his transgressions are ordinary.”
The way Armand looks at Daniel when he says “Do you want to hear my story?” - “An eager black hole.” Armand seeking if it is how Daniel listens that makes him fascinating to Louis…
Armand communicating to Lestat “I won’t say a word.” What is Lestat telling Armand here about where he is?
Their feet in the stones
“All I talked about him was trash.” “Yes, you said that. But why? It’s not exactly how you’ve talked about him to me. Did I catch you in a fantasy?” A fantasy where Lestat reads Louis nasty embellishments and comes chasing after him again….
“This prison of empathy I’ve locked you in.” Gosh, I love the language
“I am your maker’s voice: Louis, mon Cher. You anted to say something to me? Why are you ill? What’s happened to you? I love you Louis. Tell him Armand.”
Armand really does this in such selfless love for Louis and of course Armand cannot bring himself to speak Lestat’s I love you to Louis. It is too much. Especially seeing as all Armand ever asked of Lestat was for Lestat to love *him*! Oh Armand! You deserve love!
A final act of service
“You left me for death.”
Louis, using Daniel’s “And then…”
I am the quiet you have been longing for after all the garishness of life. The way Armand eases Daniel into death. Sensual. Beautiful. Terrible. And Anne’s words.
Daniel saying how Armand redacted himself from his mind reminded me of Daniel saying “Disregard” to Armand’s input to the story at the start of the season
Armand did edit Louis and Daniel’s brains… but Louis was suicidal… so there was cause…
Louis’ anger at the end
Trial starting next episode…!
Assad: “Armand can’t ever relax with the truth”
Jacob in the post episode thing - saying he can’t think of a bigger betrayal than rewriting the history of a person you love and that it makes him angry… referring to what Armand does to Louis… when IN THIS SAME EPISODE, that’s literally what Louis does to Lestat, albeit not in Lestat’s mind… but still… there are similarities!! Haha
Lestat is my boy, and Sam IS Lestat… and everyone in this episode is so incredible - but ASSAD'S ARMAND. Armand was always my second favourite vampire, but Assad - I do not understand how you are making me love Armand even MORE! Be MORE evil, Armand. And more tragic. And more loving. Be every thing you are. I know you are fascinating!!!!! Every episode, I love Assad even more.
Finally: reviewers were wrong - this is ABSOLUTELY the foundation of The Devil’s Minion. From horror, grows love. Though this episode is mainly created, there is SO MUCH of Anne Rice in it and it feels 100% her. He words, her feelings. Her gothic romance. ADORE.
Oh and PS, it's both hilarious and totally tragic that sexy Loumand times can't truly happen until Armand has literally WIPED Lestat from Louis' mind, hahahahahaha! Poor Armand. Obviously he's monstrous in this episode. And I love you for every ounce of your monstrosity and all of the pain beneath it!!!
#iwtv e12#interview with the vampire#anne rice#amc interview with the vampire#assad zaman#iwtv louis#louis de pointe du lac#the vampire armand#Daniel molloy#the devils minion
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Some commentary on the first two Letters from Watson. These are thoughts I had the first time I read the books, and when I reread them later. Feel free to ignore me and my ramblings. Here we go.
The first hint of Holmes being a little bit like me. ADHD? Autistic? Hell if I know. But short concentrated bursts of hyperproductivity and then crashing from that high? Sounds familiar, no?
To be fair, I really want to know the results of his experiments. Holmes is my hero not because he is smart, but because he is just unhinged enough to do the things I am afraid to do because he does not give a damn about societal expectations. I stan one (1) legend.
Are you now, Watson? And what interests you about him? Kinda gay to be interested in your to-be flatmate you just met today.
Oh Watson, you poor innocent neurotypical man. Side note, this was when I realised that hoarding all sorts of information might not be normal.
Why though? He didn't really do or say something that might have made Watson feel uncomfortable with approaching him to ask him about his occupation??? It also made me wonder if I appeared closed off to my friends when I actually did want to be part of the group.
This felt important to me somehow. It might not be music-music, but it was something (not just noise, like BBC showed). For some reason, Sherlock sawing on the violin made me really uncomfortable. Because Holmes might not always be creating works of art, but he is making something and doing it solely based on his feelings. And that is something he rarely does, outside of music and later, Watson.
Holmes! Being! Considerate! Take notes. Another one of the instances that made me feel a deep connection with Holmes. Also this is one of the very few times I wanted to slap Watson. Does he really need to apologise for making music you don't like? What about when you write things he doesn't like, hmm? What then?
The final nail in the coffin, so to speak. This was where I lost myself. So many times I have tried to figure out why Sherlock Holmes feels smart. I think it's partly because he can clearly explain his line of thinking. I have thoughts like these too, and I arrive at conclusions like this. But it's really hard to remember how exactly I arrived there. This part made me go "Same Brain!" and I feel exactly the same, even now.
And that's it. You are all free to ignore this and move on, but I get the feeling that this is how my posts are going to be for quite some time. Ta! See you when the next letter arrives.
#sherlock holmes#acd sherlock holmes#john watson#acd holmes#neurodivergent#meta analysis#letters from watson#my thoughts#random thoughts#ramblings#acd watson#i cant wait for the next one#even though I have the entire book series#oh well#such is life#acd canon
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like ready to be proven wrong, but I don't think that Cadsuane is necessarily gonna appear any earlier than she did in the books. I think they're just setting her up better than in the books (ie not introducing her as an important player like right before she shows up and expecting us to be impressed by that)
#this isnt something specific to Cadsuane#this happens a lot especially with the Forsaken and whatnot#but Cadsuane is like a big moment where RJ clearly didn't have her laid out when he started the series (which is fine)#and we were just expected to accept that she's been very important this entire time even though she was never brought up once#in all the time we spent in the White Tower#so it just kinda felt weird#and you can claim 'well the characters didn't know about her either'#but like I absolutely don't buy that as an excuse#especially as mentioned before#we spent a lot of time in the White Tower and among Aes Sedai#if she's been this important the entire time she should have come up before now#which i think the show sees and is correcting#wheel of time#cadsuane melaidhrin#wot on prime#wot show spoilers#wot book spoilers
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i figure they’ll drop it in a few eps like they have with everything else but it would be a little funny if after all the barchie vs varchie shit that they just made beronica endgame
#like...idt i would like it bc honestly once it became all varchie/bughead all the time the friendships really suffered#though i guess it might've been a little better in seasons 5 and 6#and i do love beronica and all it's what got me watching the show even while the internet was yelling queerbaiting#though i didn't stay loving it AS much especially as they got less interaction and i grew to love barchie more#but yeah like their relationship just became way less significant than it seemed to be at the start of the show#obvs ya know. the 50s is a brand new storyline and everything so the relationships are too#so at least they've given beronica a decent amount of focus so far#but also...people saying they're not gonna leave the 50s which is bad for many reasons#but specifically if it's gonna be the kind of thing where it's like the first six seasons didn't happen#i hate that shit soooooo much#that's what the vampire diaries books did and i was infuriated#basically what endgame did too#it's like what have i gone through this entire series for if you're just gonna be like AND NONE OF IT MATTERED#so yeah like i have been having fun with this season but i'm wary of everything#riverdale#riverdale 7x14#riverdale spoilers
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why do you hate how to train your dragon my dear fellow squelcher
tell us
hello cuties @boobooslimpshart because i read the books as a kid and was EXTREMELY excited to see the movie because i loved the books so much. unfortunately the only similarity between the books and the movies was the names of the characters. they literally changed the entire story and then slapped how to train your dragon's name on it. the movie is also a great story but idk why they didn't just make their own characters.
#kid me was SO FUCKING MAD#i still have the whole series on my bookshelf to this day btw ♥️ the art and story are extremely endearing#toothless is about the size of a cat and none of the dragons in the book are really big enough to ride#the story goes that the viking children are sent into a dragon cave as a rite of passage and their potential is kind of ranked by#how hard it was to capture their dragon#hiccup is kind of the runty kid even though he's the son of the chief and he has big expectations put on him#and hes really nervous so he runs into the cave and plucks out the tiniest runty little dragon#and from there it's kind of an ash and pikachu situation they bond and learn to like each other#and then a giant sea monster is beached on their coast and threatens to devour the entire village#and hiccup and toothless manage to kill it! it's really such a cute and endearing story and i would love to have seen that version#as the movie#instead of what they made#tbh still mad about it 😔
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1, 6 and 16?
.1. fave book?
MEAN why did you ask me that when it was one of the options, hard question. My default answer is Aron Ralston's autobiography, Between a Rock and a Hard Place (what the movie 127 Hours is based on). I've read it quite a few times and Twin gave me a signed copy for Christmas one year. Idk, reading about a man's mental and physical survival journey to cutting off his own arm (and all his adventures before this moment) hits me in the right spot. Books I've read recently, as I'm getting back into the whole reading thing, I supremely enjoyed Six of Crows and The Goblin Emperor.
6. fave trope?
Another hard one. For this I'll say... main character denying that they're Special as they figure out they're Special. I'm listening to The Way of Kings at work and the few chapters it took for Kal to realize something was up, making excuses for why x or y happened, was delightful.
16. fave day?
Fan of Thursdays. Something about it being over the hump of the week, get to look forward to the fact that tomorrow is Friday and then the weekend. It's nice.
faves ask game
#i appreciated the goblin emperor for how straight forward it was#loved the main character and you were absolutely rewarded as a reader for paying attention and predicting things#and then obviously six of crows - kaz is a blorbo and that heist is french chef's kiss#this is now just books i enjoyed and gideon and harrow the ninths both get mentions here#gideon was just a great ride and then harrow had the *best* twist. the pov reveal i had to pause and walk around for a minute#it was So Good#and i've been enjoying Way of Kings!#my friend sent me the audio book because she and another friend are obsessed with it#so i report to them as i get to different parts and have thoughts about what's happening#fun for everyone#kaladin has the worst fucking time guy can't catch a fucking break#i have a whole prediction for where he ends up but i dont know the pacing of this series for what happens when in what book#or even what the necessary overarching plot is of the entire series#the war obviously and uniting the kingdom i suppose - and the return of the knights radiant and the implications of that#but again idk the pacing of it - i'm almost done with book 1 and Kal is still having a terrible time with bridge four#and my prediction is that he's obvi gotta get out of there and end up in a place of prominence in the army#probably with dalinar because he's not a sack of dicks - and get a shard blade#(even though he doesn't want one I know - so it has More Implications when he does accept one)#my pet theory is he gets Dal's#but - again - first he has to get out of being a bridgeman#which assume will be a terrible time for him yet again and all his fellow bridgemen will die on their escape attempt#ah fuck and then however Shallan fits the fuck into all of this what is she even doing#any way if anyone else has read way of kings/stormlight archives enjoy my probably very wrong predictions#please do not spoil it for me i'm having a great time listening and guessing#ANYWAY thank you for the ask lizzie lol#ask game response#ask response
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finally finished my sisters grimm reread...ough.
#musings#council of mirrors was definitely the best book. the plot was really good.#even in the best book we did not escape brief ableism but. i was actually expecting worse so? win i guess???#uhm. but no council of mirrors was really good. sabrina matured a lot and had more character growth in one book than in the entire series!#i feel like daphne kind of got pushed to the side though? she only needed the coven once and she didn't have a huge impact on the plot#which i was disappointed by. i like daphne. pinocchis character development was really good. so was reds.#i forgot about the epilogues and they were okay. though i think sabrina would've told her kids earlier about being grimms & such.#overall. good ending to an okay childrens book series!
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Went on a fun little mall run cause I haven't done that in like months, and I've now just arrived back home with a fun little haul. Bought a movie and a couple of cds, but only a couple are worth actually showing off lol.
The first of which are the two new children I bought for my ever expanding collection of dragons 🥺
But by far my most exciting purchase (and the one that actually had me gasping out loud and nearly screaming) was this stupid little game
I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN COMBING USED GAME STORES FOR ALMOST TEN YEARS NOW AND IT'S FINALLY MINE!!!!
#Like i dont think you guys realize how excited i was when i saw it in that case of gba games#Like i flung my hand over my mouth in a gasp so fast that i cut my lip with my teeth#And it was worth it#Will i ever play this version of tales of phantasia?#Oh hell no#This was a terrible terrible port and if i ever want to replay it ill just play my english patch psx version#...until i learn enough japanese that i can fumble my way through the far better untranslated psp remaster that is lol#But this is my favourite game in the series and i just had to own it anyways#Plus this means that the only na release of a tales game in missing is the tales of destiny 2#Aka tales of eternia#For the ps1#The dragons are so fucking cute obvs and i love them#But i had intended to leave the store with one anyways so thay treat was always planned#The game though would have made the entire trip to the mall worth it even if i never bought anything else#And for those curious#The movie i bought was a bluray copy of american psycho for like $12 cause ive been wanting to check it out for a while#And two lacuna coil cds i found in the used music store#All in all a very successful trip imo#Only way it could have been better was if i found cds for the other bands i was looking for#Or if the used bookstore carried the books/manga ive been trying to find to complete the series
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the thing is tlhod could literally be THE hbo prestige adaptation limited series. cast a young semi-established critical darling as genly and boom your emmy campaign is set tbh. it's giving sharp objects starring amy adams
#ik this is a very mercenary way of looking at it but COME ON it makes sense#the thing i've come to realize is that because a perfectly faithful adaptation is impossible#it almost matters more to me that it be made to be taken seriously and have its themes engaged with#by critics and audiences#in the hopes that it gets more people to pick up the books#the things that make it difficult to adapt in limited series form —other than arguably its politics—#are probably the high concept-ness (in terms of the work needed in production design costumes etc)#and semi-related the presence of language bc i have NO idea how you'd do karhidish and orgota#would you create the whole orgota language and have a couple episodes entirely subtitled?#i mean probably you'd have a lot more conversations in karhidish/english than in the book but even so#you could do a subjective camera thing where there's like an establishing line in one language#then cut to the character's perspective who understands the language#also i think you would have genly speak a terran language other than english#so he could speak it occasionally with less confusion for the audience#anyway fun to think about!#my top choices for genly are lakeith stanfield though he feels almost like an obvious choice#so i also like ashton sanders or possibly yahya abdul-mateen though he's older than book genly#tlhod#my posts
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Went to the thrift store to look for a book I saw last time I went there (the book was gone but they had the rest of the series sooo… I bought those) but I saw a bunch of books from my teens there and was like “oh, that’s nostalgic” but then I realized that the people who donated were probably the same age as me (or close) and I thought that they probably donated all these because they were getting rid of their childhood books and I don’t know what the feeling I had was but it was weird
#emma posts#also. there were enough old Star Trek books to fill one of those big plastic storage containers and I’m like#did the owner die or something?#that’s a big collection to all get rid of#sure it might be more than one person#and it probably was#but something gave the impression that most was from one person#and a collection that extensive and spanning that wide a time span… it feels like something a person would have a hard time parting with#it’s weird when you see entire collections of certain things#because either the owner stopped being interested#or someone died#and you go in there knowing some was from families of deceased people#i know some of my grandma’s stuff got donated#but it’s a similar feeling to antique stores except antiques tend to have gone through multiple hands#I enjoy going to those places. but the objects have longer stories than something I get at Walmart#there is something about seeing a collection though that feels different#you know they were almost certainly loved#the book series I bought didn’t quite feel the same just because it was relatively popular and there were several copies of each book#it’s a different feeling than what family heirlooms have because even if you didn’t know them personally you know who had them before you#stores though have an air of mystery and emotions you can’t quite grasp#the Star Trek books reminded me of my dad’s huge collection of Star Wars books from before my brother’s and I were born#it’s something a person has to really be into to have that big a collection
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bodyguard!simon riley who takes a bullet for you —
words: 2.9k
rating: e
warnings: nightmares, guns/shooting, gunshot wound, hospitals, smut, creampie, cunnilingus, mentions of threats against reader, threat against reader, lowercase writing — please let me know if i missed any!
notes: 18+ content, minors dni. warnings have been provided.
he's been assigned to you for two-ish years now. you weren't thrilled at first, and neither was he — but he didn't make it as obvious as you did.
"i don't need a babysitter," you had damn-near hissed when he was introduced.
"i wasn't hired to be one," he counters coolly, which only serves to irritate you further.
actively ignoring his presence — as much as you could when your company moved him into your apartment — even though you begrudgingly made room in the counters and fridge for his things, even going as far as investing into a better kettle so he could make his tea and clearing out an entire cabinet for all his tea, sugar, and steeper.
he trails you quietly as he was hired to; keeping close enough to always have you in his sights but far enough away that people wouldn't be able to clock his association to you — or so he thought.
six months into his contract with you — an unknown amount of time left, as price never answered and soon he stopped asking — he wakes in the middle of the night from a scream he never thought would come from you.
he rushes into your bedroom, gun in hand with his finger resting on the side and not the trigger. the front door is locked as he had left it, windows unbroken. he almost thinks he might've associated it with one of his own nightmares, until he sees you.
curled in on yourself, face tucked into your knees, fingers threaded through your hair as you struggle to breathe properly, hiccups and sobs breaking between your stuttered breaths.
he knocks gently on your door, not wanting to startle you. you jump just a little, regardless, but lift your head to look at him.
"'m sorry," you mumble, voice rough, "i didn't mean to wake you."
and you hadn't. you thought you were done with these awful nightmares, the ones gnawing at the edges of your mind during the day.
"'s'alright," he replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his sleep shorts, walking carefully towards your bed. "you okay?"
the look he receives damn near breaks his heart.
he learns, that night, that an attempt had been made on your life before. more than once.
they never got close enough to do any harm, you say, but then swallow thickly and clutch your bicep where simon sees a scar that he never took notice of previously. they didn't get close enough to do anything worse, you amend, chancing a look at him.
"i had security then, too," you explain, wiping your tears with your hand, playing with the blanket. "it didn't change anything."
something shifts after that.
he starts cooking for you — with you, when there's time — and you bring him a cup of tea each morning. the bookshelf in the living room, previously only half-filled, collects simon's books. you give him the login to all your streaming services, and ignore the pointed look he gives you when he sees some trashy reality tv show in your "continue to watch" queue.
he doesn't complain much when he stands behind you during an episode, arms crossed, asking a question here and there. you sigh, exasperated at having to explain everything, telling him to sit down and you start the series from the beginning.
nine months into his contract, your nightmares become more frequent, and worse. you don't understand why. you were getting better, you cry in simon's arms after a particularly rough night.
"sometimes these things happen," he tells you softly, gently carding his fingers through your hair, tucking you under his chin.
"make them stop, please," you beg, even though you know he can't. he wishes he could.
he starts sleeping in your bed.
he's so warm, your cheek pressed into his chest, feeling more secure than you have in months when the weight of his thick, tattooed arm slings around your waist. he presses a kiss to your forehead at night, and you burrow into his side.
he starts taking the balaclava off at night.
a morning where you blessedly don't have to be up early, grey clouds hang in the sky, the promise of a storm later.
"g'mornin'," he says, voice rough with sleep, feeling him flex and stretch beneath you, groaning as his body relaxes. a flash of heat snaps through you.
"morning," you reply, only half-awake, tilting your head up to drag your lips across his jaw, prickling with stubble.
his fingers are in your hair, thick and comforting, tilting you back until his mouth slants over yours. he cradles the back of your head as his tongue slips into your mouth, hot and heavy.
the sheets rustle as he moves to lay over you, free arm resting by your head as your legs hook on his hips, trying to draw him closer to you.
he nips at your bottom lip as he rolls his hips, the heat of his cock through his boxers frazzling your brain. you mewl, his tongue back in your mouth, moving his hand to grip your waist and drag you up against him, moaning low in his throat when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties.
"fuck," you breathe out as his mouth moves over your cheek, down your jaw, kissing the sensitive skin behind your ear.
"say please," he rumbles.
"simon, please," you whine, fingers curling at the base of his skull and scratching, and he snarls against your skin, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck as he tears your panties off, pushing his boxers down enough to free his cock.
you're so wet for him, slick coating your thighs as he drags his cock through your folds.
he usually takes his time — using his fingers and tongue to open them up first, wanting to feel the wet heat of their cunt and the spurt of their release to know they're relaxed and ready for him. he eats pussy like he'll die if he doesn't, will happily spend hours between your legs if you let him.
but you? he feels feral with need.
"it's big, sweet thing," he rasps into your skin, right above the mark he sucked into your skin, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. he's not trying to brag, it's just a fact.
you claw at him, the sting of open scratches burning his skin so pleasantly.
"it's okay, don't care," you pant, gripping him hard enough to leave deep crescent marks in his skin, angling your hips up to draw him into your cunt yourself.
he grips your hips with both hands, slowly pushing his thick length into you, nails digging even deeper the more he pushes in.
"feels so fucking good," he says, tongue laving over your throat to collect the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin. "could fuck you forever," he groans, your breath hitching.
you make a strangled noise low in your throat. it's been awhile since you've fucked anyone, and you've never fucked anyone as big as him before.
the stretch feels so good, though. your cunt clenches around him as he sinks in deeper, mind glazing over as you focus only on him.
"fuck," he whines when he finally seats himself fully into you, nuzzling into your neck, overwhelmed by the heat and slick, "good fucking girl, taking me so well."
he swallows thickly, waiting a couple heartbeats to enjoy this — it's been awhile for him, too.
"think you can take it, love?" and his fucking voice. you would agree to do anything as long as you could hear that rough accent along your throat, teeth skimming your skin.
"yes," you breathe out harshly, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, needing him close, close, closer.
for a man of few words, simon has a filthy mouth as he fucks into you, accompanied by groans and growls into your collar.
"never had a cunt this perfect." "fuckin' made for me." "can't wait to get my tongue in you, feel you cum on my face." "no one else can have you." "you're mine."
and you, normally far more verbal than him, are reduced to nothing more than mewls and pleas and moans for more.
you mouth and nip at his jaw when you can, wanting to mark him just as much as he's marking you. you'll be his forever if he lets you, but you'll be damned if anyone else gets to have him either.
"simon — " is the only warning you give before you cum on his cock, head thrown back as you moan through the waves of pleasure, release coating his legnth and thighs.
"that's it, baby, good girl, give it to me," he says, blunt nails digging into your waist as he grinds himself deep into you. you feel so warm and pliant, the pleasure numbing your mind as he rocks himself into you.
"wanna feel you give me one more, angel," he bites at your throat on the other side, wanting to give you matching marks. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, fucking into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your toes curling.
you grip at him again, clawing as he fucks into you, the sound of your wet cunt taking each thrust creating a symphony with his groans and your cries. he feels so fucking good, splitting you open and making you whole, desperate for him to cum inside.
the way your nails dig into his shoulder is the sign that you're getting close, and he thrusts just a little harder, a little meaner, your cute whines growing more desperate as you walk the precipice of another orgasm.
no one's ever made you cum more than once — sometimes, not even once — and you've never been able to do it yourself either.
but simon? fucks a second orgasm out of you like it's his life mission, ankles tightening around his neck as pleasure lines your veins, shaking as he continues to hit that spot inside you as you cum, prolonging it as much as he can.
"baby — " he chokes out, sharp teeth on your shoulder, thrusts getting sloppy. the slick of your two releases sounds so loud in your bedroom, feeling the desperation as he thrusts, deeper, harder.
"cum inside," you mumble against his cheek, nails scratching at the base of his skull as he thrusts once, twice, three times — the warmth of his release flooding your cunt.
he fists the sheets in one hand, nails dragging down your thigh as he pumps deep into you, your slick and his release seeping out of your hole, dripping down his balls and your asshole.
you stay like that, lips brushing, breathing in each other's air as you slowly come down from the high.
simon gently — so gently — lowers your legs, carefully watching your face for any signs of discomfort, settling them on his hips, hands moving up and down your thighs. "y'alright?" he asks. you swallow thickly and nod, both hands now at the base of his skull, affectionately scratching at the nape of his neck.
he slowly pulls out, and you miss the stretch and the warmth immediately. you push up on your elbows, watching as the mixture of your pleasure leaks out of you, biting you lip.
"fuckin' beautiful," he says almost reverently, mesmerized.
he spends the next hour cleaning you up, and you think your nails create permanent marks on his shoulders.
time bleeds together.
his contract renews on the twelfth month.
he heard rumors that price might switch him out for another guard.
you're at the meeting — it's your bodyguard, after all, they figure you should get some input. price has two separate folders prepared. a sharp look from simon is all price needed to know about how he feels. the tongue lashing you give your higher ups has price raising his eyebrows, and simon sits forward a little more should he need to haul you out over his shoulder.
he wouldn't mind that too much, he thinks, but he'd rather not.
ten minutes later and you're angrily signing his renewal papers, a blotch of ink at the start of your name as you didn't even read the contract before signing, lungs burning from your rant about personal safety and what the fuck are you thinking and i didn't just buy an entirely new tea set for nothing.
you grip his wrist as soon as he signs himself, dragging him to the nearest bathroom.
his hand covers your mouth as he fucks you deep and slow.
"don't worry, darling, 'm not going anywhere."
eighteen months into his contract, and he's never felt so little control before in his life.
he's meticulous, prepared, tactile.
there's a gun in his holster for distance threats and a knife in his sheath for those who dare get too close.
he makes sure to memorize the exists before you even get to the venue, now making no effort to conceal himself.
he's like a shadow, or a guard dog.
you've never felt more secure. more protected.
until —
he doesn't know how it slipped past him.
he let his eyes linger a little too long on the curve of your neck, where a new diamond pendant lay with his initial engraved on the back. he admires the dip of the dress you wear, open-back that shows the enticing expanse of your back, the dress covering you above the curve of your ass. you look back at him briefly while whomever you're with speaks, eyes sparkling in the bright light of the room, a smile reserved just for him.
he hears the cock of a hammer and his eyes snap to a gentleman who brandishes a gun like he's never held one before in his life. his eyes, though. his eyes are like fire, black with rage, staring at you with such hatred.
you look one second too late.
simon is on you right after the click of the trigger, pushing you to the floor and caging you with his body.
"stay down and don't fucking move," he growls as he reaches for his own weapon, up in a flash.
you can't hear anything except white noise and screams that sound muffled, heart pounding and making it hard to breathe. two shots ring out, in tandem, and there's the telltale sign of a body hitting the floor.
simon is by your side, eyes scanning, frantic, looking for any signs of harm.
"you okay?" he asks, carefully outstretching his hands to let you stop him from touching you should you want. you don't.
"fine," your voice cracks, and you can't stop shaking.
"you're okay, you're okay," he says, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping under your eyes. "i'm so fucking sorry," he adds, guilt heavy in his chest.
you grab his wrists lightly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look him over. you gasp, unable to catch a real breath, unable to look away from his stomach.
"simon — " you say, horror laced in your voice.
he looks down, seeing the red seep through his shirt.
fuck.
at least it wasn't you, he tells himself.
nineteen months into his contract, and he isn't dead.
while he's been shot before — a fact he tells you, assuming it would comfort you, but only got him a venomous glare in return — it's been awhile.
the hospital, the stitches, the gauze and needles. he hated it then and he hates it now.
price comes to you in the hospital — they're keeping simon for a little, to make sure there's no complications with his healing — offering another guard in the interim while simon recovers.
you've never shot down a proposal so quickly in your life. the nerve.
twenty-two months into his contract, and the last of the moving boxes are taped shut and labeled. some of them in your writing, the others in his. the keys to your new house are tucked into his pocket, alongside a black velvet box.
"why do we have so much shit," you whine when packing, only two boxes deep and so many rooms left to go. you're too busy stuffing a manatee shaped steeper into a box — mana-tea, you giggled when he opened it, him rolling his eyes fondly in reply — and don't see him pause, looking at you softer, never hearing "we" before like that. never dreaming he could hear it like that.
a lot of stalling on your part and encouragement on his, and the last box is packed and placed in the back of the truck.
he laces your fingers together as you drive to the new house, a bottle of champagne already chilled.
twenty four months into his contract, and you come home with something hidden behind your back.
you smile like you have a secret, which would be a first.
it's awkward to bring around from your back, but there's a large german shepard puppy wiggling in your grip, tail wagging furiously.
he feels his heart stop for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, and then the band that's sitting around your finger. he touches his own subconsciously.
you set the ball of fur down, who immediately launches at simon, whining and wiggling and trying to give him kisses.
there's a collar and tag already there, and you watch with your heart beating faster than ever, unable to stop the smile on your lips, as he wrangles the pup enough to read it.
riley.
#ink by bambi#simon riley/reader#simon riley x reader#ghost/reader#ghost x reader#simon riley/you#simon riley x you#modern warfare imagine#modern warfare fanfic#simon riley imagine#simon riley smut#mondern warfare smut
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look I read twilight in the second grade I can't be blamed for what happened to my brain
#even though it's bad it's still so good#rmembwring all the slumber parties watching it in the living room w sleeping bags w my buddies#the slew of vampire books geared at kids like me that i read for years#the unfortunate twilight cake ive been photographed with as a youngling#i bought the entire series on 2 cds last last christmas bc it was $12 no ragrets#u just cant get beLLA where have u been loCa anywhere else#anyways she should have chosen Jacob bc he sucked less alternatively Alice should have broken up with Jaspers#confederate soldier ass and eloped w Bella thats my ideal romantic plotline#yellow wallpaper#twilight
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Sooooo I learned a valuable lesson last night. Which is not to draft things in tumblr. Because I wrote almost all of this in drafts, was like 15 minutes from posting. And then the app glitched when I changed the song I was listening to and lost everything.
I’m not entirely sure I wrote this version half as well as the original, which is maddening. But please enjoy this next part to the Mister(s) Steal Your Girl (poly 141) series.
Content:Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy
You honestly didn’t expect to speak to Kyle again after the bookshop encounter. Sure, you exchanged numbers and he seemed so sincere, but your faith in reading people has been a bit shaken as of late.
That said, you wouldn’t have held it against him if you didn’t. You’d had a wonderful time meeting someone new, even if just for a moment. He seemed like a busy man in a high-stress job, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he looked at your open-relationship-with-a-fiance situation and decided it was too much drama.
But the very next day after meeting him, he sends you a text. Repeating that he had a great time and asking if you’ve already started any of the books you bought.
You try (and probably fail) not to giggle like a schoolgirl every time he texts you. He’s as sweet through the phone as he was in person. Throughout the week, he checks on you (more messages than you’ve gotten from your fiance in a month) asking after your days and nights and generally chatting.
On Thursday at lunch, you ask if he’d like to meet up again, heart clenching anxiously. Nearly throw your phone across the break room when his name pops up as an incoming call.
When you answer, he doesn’t even waste time on a greeting.
“I’d like to take you on a date, luv,” he specifies, voice silky and amused in your ear.
Date one is a nice dinner. He shows up at the door with flowers. You have to take a second to blink away the mist in your eyes.
“Sorry, sorry,” you hurry to say, summoning a smile. “Just no one’s ever bought me flowers. Thank you, they’re wonderful.”
And then you realize that probably sounds pathetic and quickly turn away to deposit them in a vase. (Miss the baffled and almost offended frown on Kyle’s face as that processes.)
At dinner, the two of you toast by tapping your appetizers together. He feeds you bites of his meal from his own fork, and you let him try your wine, giggling at the faces he makes.
The night ends (after dessert, a walk in the park, and a nightcap at a quiet bar) at your front door. Kyle fits a big, warm hand on your waist, pulls you in… and drops a chaste kiss to your cheek.
You try not to let your disappointment show, but he must catch it because he chuckles and gently nudges your face back into position. Graces you with another kiss at the corner of your mouth.
“I want to, darling,” he admits, so close you’re sharing air. “Trust me, I want to. But I need you to know I’m doing this for the right reasons too.”
Touched and a little choked up, you hug him tight, cheek pressed to his chest. His breath stutters. And then his strong arms are curling around you, tucking you in, his whole body becoming a warm haven.
“Can we… can we do this again?” you ask hopefully.
“Darling, I’d take you out tomorrow if you’d let me.”
Date two is bowling, which you find Kyle is actually terrible at, despite being a sniper. You laugh and joke through three games, trouncing him each time. He doesn’t seem to mind losing in the slightest, and even takes you out for a victory ice cream afterwards. You hold hands while you lick at the cone.
Date three, you invite him to a wine and paint night. He seems willing, though unsure. By the end, though, the two of you are giggling and tipsy, paint on your hands and faces. He kisses you against the passenger door of his car, lips soft and gentle. Moans when the tip of his tongue skims your bottom lip.
On date four, you sing to the radio in the car. Blush when you catch him sneaking glances at you, but also notice that he goes around the same block twice. Tease that you’re going to be late if he keeps stalling.
At the end of the night, he sweeps you in close on the dance floor.
“Come home with me?” he asks in your ear.
Your heart stumbles as you nod, cheeks hot.
He barely gets you in the door before pressing you back against it. Fingers in your hair, body one firm line pressed flush to yours. Kissing earnest but not rough, flicking at your bottom lip until you open for him with a soft sigh. He tastes like heaven, like the drinks you shared before this. Your fingers curl into his Henley, tugging him closer, arching your back.
The desire he’s been steadily building in your gut bursts into an inferno. You’re burning all over, can barely breathe. Dizzy with his cologne.
You break the kiss with a squeak when he scoops up beneath the thighs.
“I-I’m too heavy!” you gasp, clinging tight.
“Like hell you are,” he scoffs. “Come back here, I’m not done kissing you.”
You hesitate, taking stock. But he doesn’t feel like he’s straining; didn’t even make that mortifying grunt noise. Feel secure enough to lean back just a bit to check his expression.
There’s not an ounce of effort there. Just liquid dark eyes focused on your swollen lips, tilting his chin to coax you back. You go with a little thrill in your stomach, messier this time, teeth scraping.
He bumps you against the wall on his way to the bedroom. It doesn’t hurt but it makes you laugh against his cheek.
“Love your laugh,” he murmurs into your neck. “Could listen to it all day.”
Somehow that makes you flush more than the hard bulge pressing against your ass. So you shove your tongue in his mouth again to shut him up, breathless at his tongue curling against yours.
You squeal when he drops you on the bed with a little bounce, a brilliant, cheeky smile your reward. Then he tugs his shirt off and your mind goes utterly blank.
He’s a monument of strength and discipline, power in every plane of hard-earned muscle. There are glossy scars peppering his skin, and you’re fascinated as much as you are sad for his pain. He looks like a young god. You’ve seen marble statues half as beautiful as him.
“You’re bloody gorgeous,” you whisper, crawling to the edge of the bed.
He shivers and leans into your palms as they explore up his toned stomach, across the defined lines of his chest and shoulders, down his arms. Leave open-mouthed kisses against long-healed wounds and patches of smooth skin alike, appreciating every part of him.
He uses your interlocked fingers to draw you away, bending to meet you halfway. Speckles kisses over your cheeks and jaw, down to a tender spot beneath your ear that makes you hum. You could melt into him and just float.
He pauses there, breathes you in. “Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at your shirt. You hesitate, just for a beat — but it’s enough to have Kyle pulling back a little.
“We can stop here,” he offers. “Or we can just keep doing this. Whatever you want, luv, I’m not fussed.”
You duck your head, but he doesn’t let you escape for long, gently guiding your gaze up by the chin.
“Talk to me?” he asks.
“I-I want to keep going,” you say, “I’m just… and you’re so…”
He shakes his head, kisses you quiet. “I’m not anything but a man that wants to make his girl happy. In whatever way she’s okay with, yeah?”
You have to blink away another sting of inopportune tears. Then reach for your shirt and pull it off yourself.
“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, eyes going big.
You flush as he nudges you back, spread out amongst the neat sheets and pillows. His eyes trace every inch of you over and over, hands quick to follow. The contrast of his rough palms on your skin makes you squirm and sigh. He touches you like you’re something special, like he wants to savor you.
He nibbles kisses into your collarbones, lavishes your breasts with tongue and gentle teeth. Works his way down your stomach and stops again.
“Can I take the rest off?” he asks.
You don’t hesitate this time, shifting to give him access to the zipper. His hands fumble a bit when he notices the embarrassing wet patch on your underwear, thumbing at your slit through the fabric.
“Please let me eat you out,” he breathes.
You press your thighs together, nervous. “Y-you don’t have to…”
“I want to, luv,” he answers, eyes barely flickering away. “Fuck do I want to.”
Words desert you, so all you can manage is a jerky nod. For the first time, his patience seems to fray as he tugs your underwear off. Barely gets them down to one ankle before diving between your legs.
He laces sweet kisses along your thighs and hips, slowing as he gets closer and closer to where you want him most. His tongue dips into your slit, just skims your throbbing and sensitive clit. You moan softly. The next swipe of his tongue is bolder, curling at your soaked entrance. He groans into you, deep and animal from his chest and makes you shudder.
“That’s it, baby,” he whispers. “Just enjoy.”
It’s impossible not to when he pampers your cunt so thoroughly. Never rough, never too fast. Like he could spend all night between your thighs. Sucking gently at your clit, thrusting his tongue inside, lapping in perfect, even strokes. You didn’t think you enjoyed oral from the few times you’ve experienced it — but Kyle makes it heavenly.
One of his hands, squeezing absently at your hip, travels down. He presses a finger at your entrance, playing in your slick but not going further. Waiting. You murmur a soft “please” that nearly has him growling.
Even just one finger feels like so much. His hands are bigger than yours. And so deliciously clever. It’s not long before you’re babbling for another, crying out softly when he provides. Two fingers curling and rubbing against your slick, sensitive walls and his tongue swirling around your needy clit — it’s so much. Overwhelming and perfect.
“K-Kyle, ‘m gonna…” you keen, shocked by how quickly it’s building.
Then he hums an encouragement and that little extra bit of stimulation sends you hurtling over the edge. You clench around his hand, hips twitching, grinding against his willing mouth through wave after wave. Not even aware of the noises you’re making until they fade off into soft whimpers of overstimulation.
Kyle eases his fingers from you, drops one last kiss to your hip. The lower half of his face is glistening. If you weren’t still somewhere in the stratosphere, you’d be embarrassed. But right now all you can manage is a quiet, needy noise, reaching for him.
He smiles and crawls over you, the warmth of his body soothing your shivery muscles, easing you through aftershocks. You wipe absently at his chin as you exchange lazy, sloppy kisses. Surprised to find that you don’t mind the taste of yourself; not much different than jizz.
“Give me… another second…” you mumble, head falling back as you catch your breath. “I’ll return the favor.”
Against your leg, you can feel him twitch through his jeans. He feels big. Your stomach clenches with want.
“That sounds bloody amazing, don’t get me wrong,” he answers, voice husky in your ear. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to feel you cumming ‘round my cock.”
You gasp, not sure if you’re scandalized or even more turned on than before. Both?
“Wait, but I already…”
“I know, I was there,” he teases, kissing your temple. “But I wanna see it again. Feel it proper this time.”
You pause, blinking up at him as you trace your fingers along his ribs. “But isn’t that… I dunno, unfair?”
“Fuck no,” he answers. “I’d spend all night just making you cum if you let me.”
You huff and swat at him. “I think you’d kill me.”
“What a way to go, though, eh?” he chuckles, arching his eyebrows.
You groan, but there’s no hiding your grin. He brushes hair back from your face, cups your cheek.
“What do you say, baby? Let me fuck you good and proper.”
You snort, turn to nip his thumb in relation, but chirp, “yes, please!”
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Masterlist
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#poly 141#misters steal your girl#open relationship trope
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Hooked On A Feeling
Chapter One - Olivia Ricciardo
Daniel is a Formula One driver, but, more importantly, he was a single dad to a wonderful little girl. He wants her to be a normal little girl, to have a normal social life, so he sends her to daycare. That was where she met Milo, her future best friend.
Milo's mother was incredibly stressed. She worked so hard to provide a good life for her son. But then he makes a new friend, a friend who has a hot dad (ofc they fall in love)
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Single Dad!Daniel x Single Mum!Reader
Series Masterlist
Olivia Ricciardo came running out of daycare with a wide grin on her face. Her grandparents just wished her dad could have been there to see it as she ran into their arms. It wasn’t his fault; even once his little girl was born, he still had a job to do.
Daniel was there for half of the week at least. But for the rest of the week, his parents took care of her, feeding her, letting her sleep in the bedroom she had in their house, and transporting her to and from daycare. Every time her dad would leave, Olivia would scream and cry for at least a couple of hours. At least until her grandparents had her facetiming her father and Daniel could talk to his little girl.
This time, when Olivia came running out to her grandparents car, she immediately asked if she could call her daddy. “I wanna tell him about the new friend I made!” she said through a wide grin as she bounced in her seat.
As her grandma drove, her grandpa pulled out his phone, calling Daniel. He kept a hold of the phone until his son picked up. After saying hello to him, he passed the phone back to Olivia. “Hi daddy!” She called, but Daniel could hardly see her from how much she was moving the phone around.
“Hi, Livvy!” Daniel grinned at his daughter. He’d missed her so much this week. His short break the year before, before he had been placed in the AlphaTauri, he’d spent the entire time with Olivia. He’d only gone to the races on the weekends, and since Olivia only went to daycare on Tuesday to Friday, she went with him.
But now that Daniel was driving again, he left Olivia with his parents. He didn’t want to take her out of daycare to be at his races; that was how she socialized. And this was proof of that.
“Daddy, I made a new friend!” Olivia shouted.
Daniel couldn’t stop his grin from becoming wider at that. “That’s great news Livvy!” He shouted, telling the news to whoever was near him.
Suddenly the phone moved away from her dad. Olivia watched as somebody else grabbed hold of the phone, holding it in front of his face. “Hi, Livia!” Said her Uncle Max as he held the phone up in front of his face. As usual, he wore his Redbull hat. This one had a number One on it. Olivia had several Redbull hats. She had several with her dad’s number and one of Max’s old ones, with the thirty-three on it. “Your dad tells me you made a new friend!”
“Yeah, uncle Max. His name is Milo and he shared his crayons with me so that I could do my colouring book.”
"That's great, Livia!" Max said.
He said his goodbyes and passed the phone back to Daniel, who was only too happy to be talking to his daughter again. "Maybe you could invite Milo round for a playdate when you're back from your mums house, Jelly Bean," he said and the smile dropped from Olivias face.
It was so secret who Olivias favourite parents was. Even though she rarely got to see him, she loved her dad more than anything. Daniel didn't know what happened at his ex's place in what made Olivia hate it so much, but he had no right to stop it.
If he tried, his ex could easily pull up the fact that Daniel was never there and his parents saw Olivia more than he did. If Olivia would tell him why she hated it, maybe he could do something that would stop her from having to spend every other week with her mother.
"But, daddy, I want to be there when you get home," Olivia said, wearing a pout.
Daniel hated seeing his little girl like that. He loved her more than anything and never wanted to see the smile drop from her face. His Olivia, he'd go to the ends of the earth for her.
The people surrounding him indicated that it was time to go, but Daniel kept smiling as he looked at the phone. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay, Jelly Bean?"
"Okay," she said and passed the phone back to her grandfather without saying goodbye.
Daniel smile turned sad as he looked at his father. "Make sure she has snuffles before she goes," he said sadly before saying goodbye to his parents. They knew what to do by now, they'd been sending her to her mother’s house for the last five years.
“What’re we having for dinner tonight, Livvy?” Her grandma asked as they pulled into the driveway.
The scowl dropped from Oliva’s face and she started bouncing in her seat, chanting ‘turkey dinosaurs!’ over and over again.
Turkey dinosaurs it was.
***
“Milo, honey, can you feed the cat please!” Y/N shouted, pulling the phone away from her ear as she turned back to the stove.
Milo came running down the stairs, already in his dinosaur pyjamas and dinosaur slippers. He ran to the front door, where the cat bowl was, and used the tiny, novelty shovel to scoop the cat food into the bowl. It was a little too much, but Poppy (the cat) wouldn’t mind.
“Wash your hands for dinner!” She shouted and placed the phone back between her shoulder and her ear.
“Mum, I don’t need your money,” she said as she plated up the Italian dish she had made. Well, it was spaghetti with carbonara, with turkey dinosaurs on the side to get Milo to eat it.
She heard her mother sigh down the phone. “Well, if you won’t take our money, your father and I are going to visit,” she said and hung up, without saying so much as a goodbye.
Placing her phone down, Y/N put the plates on the table and waited for Milo to come running in. He jumped into his chair and picked up his knives and fork. “I made a new friend today, momma!” Called Milo as he put down his knife and fork and picked up the turkey tyrannosaurus. He bit the head off and roared with the food still in his mouth, leading his mother to scold him.
“Tell me about your new friend, Mi,” she said as she ate her own dinner (like Milo, Y/N had a turkey dinosaur on her plate. It was the triceratops, Milo’s least favourite).
So, Milo told his mother all about his new friend, Olivia Ricciardo. He boasted about how he shared his pencils and Miss Green didn’t even have to ask him. Olivia sat beside him as they coloured, telling him all about her dad who drove race cars.
“Yeah, momma! Her dad is a famous race car driver! How cool is that?”
“Very cool, Milo,” Y/N answered as she picked up his plate to clear up. Of course, she didn’t believe that Milo’s new friend’s father was a famous race car driver. That was the sort of things kids said to impress each other. Just six months before Milo had told some boys that his father was a famous football player.
Milo stayed sat at the kitchen table, kicking his feet. “I can’t wait for daycare,” he said to himself as he knocked his fist against the table in time to the music.
Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning as Milo continued talking about daycare. It hadn’t had an easy time making friends, but now he had one and she couldn’t be happier.
As soon as she was finished with the washing up, Y/N ruffled his hair with her soapy hands. “Bedtime, little man,” she said, and Milo jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs.
He ran into his bedroom and dove under the covers. He grabbed a hold of Rexy, his tyrannosaurus teddy bear, and Spike, his Stegosaurus teddy bear, and held them close. He watched as his mum walked in and pulled a book from his shelf. “How do we feel about the magician’s nephew?” She asked as she pulled the little book from the shelf.
“Yay, Narnia!” Milo called as Y/N sat on the end of the bed and cracked open the book. Just a few months ago Milo had been complaining about picture books, since one of the boys in his class had started reading actual books. So, Y/N was working with him so that he could read ordinary books on his own.
“Momma,” Milo began, interrupting her as she read. “Can Olivia come round for a playdate?”
Y/N placed a dinosaur bookmark between the pages. “Only if Olivia’s mummy and daddy say it’s okay,” she said as she put the book back and switched on his dinosaur night light.
“Olivia doesn’t like her mummy,” Milo replied as she turned on his side, still holding Spike and Rexy.
Y/N walked over and kissed the top of his head as she tucked him in. “Well, I’ll just have to speak to her daddy then, won’t I,” she said and stood up straight. “Goodnight, Munchkin,” she said as Milo turned towards the wall, his eyes shut.
“Goodnight, momma.”
Y/N walked out of the room, leaving the door open just a little. As she left Poppy the cat ran in and jumped on his bed (a dinosaur blanket, of course), curling up by his feet.
With Milo now asleep, Y/N went back downstairs. She sat at the kitchen table, pulled out her laptop and, like she did every night, began writing.
Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye
#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo smut#daniel ricciardo x reader smut#daniel ricciardo x you#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#dr3#dr3 imagine#dr3 x reader
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