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oleander-nin · 2 months

Note

I see that your requests are open- {at least I hope they are because I see that they're open in like- 3 places-}

Can I get a RoTTMNT Donnie x reader with these two prompts:

Stealing clothing

"One more chance. I'll give you one more chance."

It can just be a silly little fluff thing where they keep stealing each other's comfort clothing or something sifdhufiigejj I jsut like seeing 1 prompt that could be seen as angst then going like "how to turn FLUFF?" You don't have to make it fluff and sorry for talking so much in this paragraph I'm just. So far ufsuguu

What's Yours is Mine

A/N, not important: Aww, I liked that you wanted to turn it fluff and I tried my best to keep it that way. Sorry it took so long(this ask is back from SEPTEMBER). Sorry if Donnie's out of character, it's been a while. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me. -Ollie

CW: thievery, apologies, OOC Donnie

Words: 956

Summary: Donnie catches you stealing his hoodie.

The hoodie you were wearing was softer than most you’ve ever felt, the fabric so light and soothing you almost forgot it was on. You had to keep looking down before passing a window, making sure you hadn’t forgotten to put on a shirt so you don’t walk by with a bare chest. The earlier guilt from taking it had died down by now. No accusatory texts, no panicked calls. As far as you could tell, Donnie didn’t even know it was missing yet. Made sense, you thought. He never wore it that often. Not unless he was going out into the public eye.

The sense of safety you felt in the hoodie so far has caused you to grow careless, cocky even. You knew Donnie was popping in today. The time of which, you weren’t entirely sure. He could pop in at any moment, yet you were still in the stolen hoodie. You sigh, deciding not to push your luck. It would only tick off Donnie to know you stole his favorite(and only) hoodie. Not to mention he'd have probably lent it to you if you just asked either way.

You slip the hoodie off your shoulders, shaking it twice to get the imaginary dirt off before hanging it up in your closet. The thought, while feeling a bit silly at first, ended up being a good idea. Seconds after you close your closet and take a step back, Donnie raps his knuckles against your window. Shaking off the guilt and the embarrassment, you open the window to let him in.

“Greetings,” Donnie says, a self-satisfied grin on his face. It was later in the night, his back lit by the moon and his face by the lights of your room. It was nice to see him so relaxed, you realized. Having him content in your presence, his confidence showing through his eyes. You loved seeing him like this, and quietly vowed to never let that smile falter. You step out of the way to let him slip through the window, his battle shell sprouting spider-like appendages to assist him in balancing.

“Good to see you,” You say smoothly, walking across your room to grab the controllers and set up the console you weaseled into your room earlier in the day. You've already set up everything for you both to have your weekly game tournaments, with the stack of games selected now reaching up to your knees. Plenty of material to go through, and you could easily set up a movie or pull out the board games in your closet if either of you get bored of button mashing.

The sound of a door creaking open while your back is turned makes you jolt, your eyes widening as you realize that by opening your closet, he definitely had seen the stolen hoodie. You turn to look back at him, trying to push down the sheepish look and maintain your innocence as he pulls out the accumulation of your thievery.

"What do you have here," Donnie muses, holding up the hoodie to his plastron and looking down at it like he was trying it on in a store. You shift on your feet, unsure what to say to him now that you have definitely been caught. The crazed twinkle in his eye and the urge to maintain your dignity held firm, causing you to double down.

"New hoodie I just got. You like it?"

Donnie looks you up and down, completely unimpressed by your innocent facade. “Oh really? You just happened to come by a large purple hoodie with the back modified to fit over a shell and larger pockets to fit hands like mine?”

You stare blankly at him, pursing your lips. “Mhm.”

“I’ll give you one more chance to admit this one’s mine,” Donnie says curtly, his eyes twitching as he looks the hoodie up and down for any damages. “I mean, you could have just asked before you rifled through my belongings to find it.”

You slump forward slightly, giving in. “Yeah, it’s yours. I’m sorry I took it, I should’ve asked.”

Donnie grins at you again, smug. “Apology accepted. On one condition, of course.”

You grimace at the thought, sighing deeply. Conditions from Donnie usually meant trouble, or you becoming a new assistant/experiment for one of his inventions. “And that condition is?”

“I get to take one of your hoodies in exchange. And allow Papá to make the needed alterations to it.”

You chew on your cheek, trying to weigh the consequences of your actions. “Who gets to choose the hoodie?”

Donnie scoffs, shoving the problem hoodie into his battle shell as it opens up. He crosses his arms over his chest, giving you an incredulous look. “Me, obviously. You stole my hoodie.”

The point he made was fair on all accounts. You knew deep down Donnie likely wasn’t mad, more frustrated you had taken something without asking(again). However, knowing he’d almost definitely choose your favorite hoodie to alter sucked. There was a reason you didn’t wear Donnie’s hoodie outside and instead used it as loungewear. Mentally mourning your collection, you wave your hand towards your closet as a sign to let him have at it.

“Take what you want. Mi casa es tu casa.”

Donnie grins smugly once more, clearly having expected that answer. He turns back towards your closet and starts to dig through it, looking through your hoodies to find his perfect victim. The glee in which he did so had you suspecting he had set you up in some way, but you keep those thoughts to yourself. If he wanted, he could alter your whole closet to fit him and you wouldn’t say a word.

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay @lexiechr @ssak-i @rottmntsimp

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cieloclercs · 1 year

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grace , send me a trope + a character and i’ll write a short drabble from it

hii, can i please request best friends to lovers with ollie?

congrats on 1k btwww 🫶🫶

call me cupid — ollie bearman

pairing. ollie bearman x best friend!reader

word count. 2.7k (i swear i tried to make it short lmao)

warnings. kind of a weird fusion of fluff and angst ??? unrequited love vibes (that’s not actually unrequited but u get what i mean), pining ollie, pining reader, arthur lowkey is the mastermind, and is also sick of said pining, abrupt ending i’m sorry 😭

author’s note. hello anon! thank you so much for your request ☺️ i hope this is ok ! i know it cuts off quite abruptly, but i’d be open to writing a part 2 with the confession if you want one <3

read below the cut

He’s staring again.

It’s becoming a problem, but can anyone really blame him? You look nothing short of angelic under the strobe lights, your shimmering dress catching his eye every time you move. You’re dancing with a girl he doesn’t recognise, that beautiful smile he adores stretched across your crimson-painted lips. It makes him wonder what she’s saying to you to make you seem so content.

Best friends shouldn’t look at each other the way he’s looking at you now. Ollie knows that. Yet on days like today, he really can’t help it. This is your party, celebrating your third Formula 2 victory in a row. He’d watched from way back in P5 as you stormed through the field, fighting off every challenge your opponents tried to throw your way. There’s a reason the fans call you the Queen of Formula 2, after all. You’re practically untouchable. All it does is heighten his awareness of his own pounding heart whenever you’re around; turn his insides to velvet when you so much as smile his way. Yes, it’s becoming a problem — and Ollie isn’t sure there’s anything he can do to stop it.

“You know, I’ve just thought of something you should try.” A voice speaks up to his left, breaking him out of whatever trance you’ve unwittingly put him under. He turns. Arthur Leclerc stands like the devil on his shoulder, arms folded, expression unimpressed. When Ollie says nothing, he goes on, “It’s called talking to her. Works wonders, really, I’d highly recommend. It’s how I met Carla.”

The younger of the two rolls his eyes. Arthur is the only other living soul on earth who knows about his infatuation with you — officially, at least. In reality, almost everyone in the Ferrari Academy has long since figured it out. Everyone except you, ironically. But Ollie supposes it makes sense; why would someone like you ever even consider him as something more than just a friend?

“Can we not do this tonight?” Ollie sighs, exasperated, “I’m just trying to forget about…all of that for a moment.”

This time it’s Arthur who rolls his eyes. Ever since he first caught on to his friend’s crush on you a little over eight months ago, he’s been trying every method under the sun to try and make him see that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be so pessimistic about his chances. But the answer is always the same. Ollie remains convinced, like some poor, naïve, completely oblivious child, that you’d never so much as give him a second glance if he told you how he felt. It’s complete bullshit, of course. Arthur has seen the way your eyes search immediately for his after a race, be it a good result or even a bad one. He’s watched you brush off close friends (including him, many a time) even family members, to get to Ollie. But of course, Ollie himself doesn’t notice. No fool in love ever does.

“You’re not going to forget though, are you?” Arthur muses, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, “I know you, and I know you can’t stay away from her for that long. You’ll cave eventually.” he smirks. At the sight of Ollie’s pink cheeks, he knows he’s caught him out.

“Why don’t you go annoy someone else for a change?” the Brit grumbles. There’s the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Arthur could pick it out even in the pitch dark.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love me.” he teases.

Within moments he’s cowered behind Carla on the other side of the room, chased away by Ollie’s (half joking) threats to crash him out of the next race on purpose if he doesn’t shut his mouth. But Arthur’s words stick with him throughout the entire night. Somehow, they always do.

In truth, Ollie's been grappling with the idea of telling you for quite a while; to put him out of his own misery more than anything else. He's sick and tired of the 'best friends' label. It seems so trivial, so reductive to say that it hurts him, when in fact, every time you refer to him as such, he’s sure you must be ripping his heart out of his chest. But then he can’t help but feel melodramatic — at least he has you, even if only as a friend. Even if you don’t love him in the way he loves you, you’re still there. Close, though perhaps not quite close enough. Ollie has decided not to take that for granted. He knows how easily it can be snatched away from him.

In the end (just as he always seems to be) Arthur is right — it’s not even an hour before he finds himself gravitating towards you; unwittingly being pulled into your orbit from which he fears, if he’s not careful, he’ll never be able to escape. You’re hovering on the edge of a group of engineers now, sipping on a glass of sparkling water out of a straw. How you can appear drop dead gorgeous yet so damn adorable at the same time, he has no idea. Ollie feels he’ll be spending the rest of his life trying to figure you and your many layers out.

“Hi, Ol.” you greet him with a smile like the sun when he finally plucks up the courage to approach. He mutters something in reply, though as soon as the words have left his mouth he’s already forgotten them — he could have said something completely unintelligible for all he knows. That’s the effect you have on him.

“Having fun?” you prompt again, your soft smile spreading into a full-blown grin. Ollie glances briefly around the room. It’s absolutely packed full of Ferrari Academy members, both drivers and personnel. Normally, this kind of event would be his worst nightmare. Even if he’s known these people for years, the idea of having to socialise and look like he’s having fun makes him feel sick. But then he remembers all this is for you. It’s to celebrate your achievements in a male dominated field, which no woman has ever managed to do before. When he reminds himself of that, all his anxiety suddenly seems to melt away.

“Of course.” Ollie grins back. His heart soars to see you light up at his words, to see you giggle behind the rim of your glass and look at him as if he’s the only person in the world. At times like this he can truly believe that maybe Arthur is right — maybe, if he confesses, his world won’t come crashing down. Maybe you’ll light it up for the better.

“What happened to you at turn one? Nic told me you dropped out of the points." you go on, eyebrows furrowing with the remnants of confusion. Ollie had begun the feature race in P2 behind you, yet you'd find that the competition you'd so anticipated disappeared not even before the first lap had ended. The Brit sighs, shaking his head.

"I collided with Jack trying to defend." he tells you with a wince, "Damaged my sidepods."

Your expression twists into one of sympathy. There's almost no coming back from that, even for a driver as talented as Ollie. Still, you think, to climb back up to P5 after sustaining damage like that is no mean feat. You don't miss the way he flushes bashfully when you tell him as such.

"It was my own fault." he mumbles, trying desperately to cool the flames in his cheeks as you watch him, eyebrows raised. He always feels like he's been put under a microscope when you look at him like this. There's no escaping the calculation in your stare, the curious scrutiny. "I took too much of a risk."

You shake your head. There's the tiniest of knowing smiles on your lips. Ollie is always so hard on himself. It's something you both admire him for, and find yourself exasperated with; he never seems to be able to see how brilliant he really is -- or at least, how brilliant he is in your eyes.

"Well, whoever was at fault, it's a real shame." you dismiss with a wave of your hand, "I miss sharing the podium with you."

Ollie is sure he must be melting. He can't figure out if it's from your words alone, or from the tiny pout that's fallen on your lips, or even the soft glint in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Suddenly the proximity between the two of you seems to have all but diminished. He chuckles nervously.

"Next race will be ours." the Brit murmurs. Little by little you inch closer to him, your hand resting on the ledge you're leaning on, just ghosting over where his own lays flat. He breathes in sharply.

"Promise?" you whisper. The point of your heel bumps against his foot. Ollie glances down at it in a panic, before his head snaps up to meet your piercing gaze. He fears that if he rocks forwards only the slightest bit on the balls of his feet, he'll be close enough for his nose to bump yours. He's never felt so consumed, so intoxicated by another person in all his life. He can smell the honey scent of your hair, feel your warm breath tickling his cheek. His gaze flickers down for the briefest of moments to your lips - soft and pink, parted as if there's something else you want to say, but the words have gotten trapped in your throat.

"I promise." Ollie croaks.

Just one more step, you think. One more step, and he'll kiss you. He's so close, closer than he's ever been before, and suddenly you can see everything falling into place: all the nights spent crying on Arthur's shoulder, wondering whether Ollie is truly just scared as your friend says he is, or whether he simply doesn't feel the same. It will all fade into a distant, long-abandoned memory. Finally, you'll be able to call him something more than just your best friend.

But then he steps away.

You flinch, taken aback at his sudden movement. Ollie stares at you, wide-eyed, breathing heavily as if he's just run a marathon. He can't believe what's just happened — can't believe he was about to kiss you. How could he be so stupid?

"I —" he stammers. The look on your face is hard to decipher: shocked, confused, hurt. If Ollie looked a bit closer, he'd be able to see the last of those emotions, or the way your shock is mixed with a horrible sinking feeling of disappointment. But, of course, he doesn't see it that way. He's stuck on the same, poisonous idea that's been plaguing his mind ever since he first figured out his feelings — you don't feel the same way.

"I'm sorry." Ollie gasps. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and runs, leaving you stood alone, arms half outstretched as if to try and stop him. You're too late, of course. Within moments he's out of sight. Gone, just like your hope.

"Well that was a train wreck." a familiar voice speaks up from somewhere on your left. You spin around, groaning as you spot Arthur, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed in what you can only imagine is frustration.

"You don't say." you drawl bitterly, glaring down into your empty glass. Wordlessly, your friend passes you his own half-full one. You lean down to sniff at its contents, and pull away, nose scrunched in distaste — definitely not water. But you think, at this point, you're owed some kind of distraction.

"Why does he keep running away from me?" you grumble. It's been months of this cat and mouse game now. Tonight is the closest you've ever got; the first time you've seen with your own eyes that Ollie does reciprocate your feelings. Yet it feels like for that step forward, all you've gone and done is taken another two back.

"Because he's an idiot." Arthur answers plainly. The Monégasque watches as you take a gulp of his drink, pulling a face at the burn in your throat, and wordlessly reaches forwards to take the glass back from your hands. He's grateful that you don't complain.

"Well I wish he'd stop." you mutter. As much as you're willing to wait for Ollie for as long as he needs, it's painful, having to go on loving him from a distance like this. Every time you lock eyes, the longing grows more intense. You're not sure how much longer you can take it.

"You know, you're just as bad as he is." Arthur speaks up. Once again, your head snaps towards him, eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"You heard me." the Monégasque says with a sigh, "Look, I want to help you, I really do, but you could make all of this so much easier for yourself if you just tell him how you feel."

And there it is. You can’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. It sounds so simple coming from Arthur’s mouth — so easy. God knows you’ve tried, time and time again, to be honest with Ollie about your feelings, to rip off the plaster in the hopes the pain of it won’t be too great; that he might just tell you he’s been trying to say the same thing all this time. But whenever you feel as if you might be ready, the words catch in your throat. You just can’t stomach them. It’s a kind of vulnerability you’ve never shown to anyone before, let alone someone who already means so much to you. At the end of the day, you’re still young. No matter how much you love Ollie now, the chances of him being the one are low.

At least, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself. But a part of you knows already — there’s no one else on earth you’ll ever feel this way about. Young or not, it’s always going to be Ollie.

“I don’t know if I can take that risk, Arth.” you say quietly, “If Ollie and I — if we’re not meant to be together…isn’t it better just to have him, even as a friend, than risk losing him entirely?”

You’re honestly not sure which is the most painful: having to pretend that you don’t love him, or the idea of one day not having him at all. Yet, you still know which one you’d choose — even if it hurts like ripping your own heart out of your chest.

“Huh.” Arthur says, eyebrows furrowing again. There’s something different in his expression this time, though. It’s less frustration, more a spark. As if he’s realised something you and Ollie may not have just yet.

“What?” you ask. Suddenly, Arthur begins to smile. You watch him disbelievingly, none the wiser as to what on earth he has to be so happy about at the present moment. Then he’s laughing, shaking his head as if in mirthful despair.

“You really are soulmates.” the Monégasque snickers, watching almost gleefully as you grow even more confused.

“What?” you ask again. Part of you begins to wonder if Arthur has lost his mind — you wouldn’t blame him after the game he’s been playing: acting as some sort of secret go-between in the middle and your and Ollie’s back and forth self-doubts. But Arthur hasn’t lost the will to live with it all just yet. In fact, he thinks he’s finally figured out how to make the both of you see sense.

“He said the exact same thing to me.”

And with that, Arthur turns on his heel, leaving you stood alone, your mind racing. All this time you’ve been trying to play the long game; trying to anticipate what Ollie is thinking, when in reality, your thoughts are practically shared. You’re both afraid. More than you ever have been in your life. But for the first time you begin to think, perhaps fear doesn’t have to be the dividing factor.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” Carla Brocker asks her boyfriend as he retakes his familiar position at her side, still grinning like a child who’s just been told Christmas is coming early. Arthur says nothing, merely tilting his head in the direction of where you stand motionless. It only takes a few moments for Carla to catch on. She turns to face her boyfriend again, mouth hanging open.

“You think you’ve got through to her?” she whispers urgently.

Once again, Arthur Leclerc grins proudly.

“Just call me Cupid.”

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russellsppttemplates · 6 months

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Idk if you’re comfortable writing sth for Ollie? I know he’s a teenager but I just had an idea for a cute little fluff. How about him going for advice to someone on the grid cause he’s seeing this girl and wants to impress her and take her somewhere nice for a date?

Note: he's not underage so I think I feel okay about writing this blurb for him 😅 don't think I'll keep writing for him as this was just a moment thing, but it was fun!

He had just gotten a date with the communications intern he has been chatting up since before the season began. One would think that the hard part was over, but when one door closes, another opens and the one that stood wide open had a massive poster with "where the hell are you taking her then?" in bold letters.

It was his first time in the city and he didn't know many places around so the logical thing was to ask Charles, "hey! Is Carlos sick again?", the monegasque driver said a she spotted the young driver on the Ferrari garage.

"No, I don't think so, he's fine", Ollie offered, "I'm just here to asked you something actually", he said, hands fumbling with eachother.

"Sorry for the ambush - it's great to see you here! What's up?", Charles wondered.

"I need your advice on where to take someone out for dinner here", he gestured to the ground, "It's for tonight and I have no idea where I'm taking her", he mused.

"Here? Let me think", Charles said, running through the spots he remembered, "Oh, last year, me and Alexandra went to this restaurant near the hotel, I can look it up on the Maps app for you", he continued, retrieving his phone from his pocket so he could search for it, "so, dinner date without a restaurant first?", he teased.

"I had to work myself up to ask her on a date and then I actually forgot that I had to have a plan for it", Ollie led, "I was taking it one step at a time and forgot that this step was quite important", he said as they looked at the screen, Ollie typing the name of the restaurant on his phone.

"They also have a cute flower shop at the paddock entrance - if you are a gifting flowers in the first date type of guy -", Charles added as he saw panic on the younger driver's widened eyes, "not everyone does it, but it depends on the tone you want to set".

"What says the 'I've been wanting to take you out on a date for nearly a year and have chosen an away race out of all places to do it?' tone?", Ollie teased himself, "That's a lot of pressure to put on flowers", Charles chuckled alongside him.

"It's all going to be fine, don't worry! Just be yourself!", Charles advised as Ollie thanked him, walking back to the F2 paddock and seeing you working on your laptop, a smile on your lips followed by a little wave. Yeah, it was going to be fine.

(Thank you for submitting an ask ✨️)

#ollie bearman blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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sugakookie78 · 1 year

Text

Baker (Instagram AU)

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Baker!Reader

All pictures are from Instagram, Tumblr, or Pinterest

@/olliebearman I'm impatient... I just want the cookies

Tagged @/Y/NtheBaker

Liked by @/Y/NtheBaker, @/arthur_leclerc, and 26,391 others

Y/NtheBaker Yeah, and you ended up getting them

olliebearman And they were lovely. Thank you! <3

Y/NtheBaker <3

user1 Those look so good!

arthur_leclerc Can I have one?

Y/NtheBaker Sure, unless Ollie eats them all first

olliebearman I only ate a couple... but you better get them quick Arthur...

user2 Cute!

@/Y/NtheBaker Breakfast in bed for my bearman <3

Tagged @/olliebearman

Liked by @/olliebearman, @/paularon_, and 20,395 others

olliebearman Thank you, baby! I love you so much!

Y/NtheBaker Love you too!

user1 This is so cute :)

paularon_ Do you happen to have anymore? Asking for friends...

Y/NtheBaker No, unfortunately. But I can make more to bring to the race this weekend... for your friends

paularon_ @/dinobeganovic_ @/frederikvestiofficial

dinobeganovic_ Woo! Y/N's baking!

frederikvestiofficial Yay!

@/Y/NtheBaker The muse -> The art

Tagged @/olliebearman

Liked by @/olliebearman, @/yourbestfriend, and 19,846 others

olliebearman I'm glad to be your muse <3

Y/NtheBaker <3

user1 They are perfect together!

yourbestfriend You two are so adorable!

olliebearman Thank you

Y/NtheBaker Double date soon?

yourbestfriend Ooo, yeah...

@/olliebearman I tried baking with @/Y/NtheBaker. I think it turned out pretty well...

Tagged @/Y/NtheBaker

Liked by @/Y/NtheBaker, @/frederikvestiofficial, and 21,496 others

Y/NtheBaker All thank to me!

olliebearman I helped!

Y/NtheBaker Yeah... kind of. But I love you anyway... no matter how much you can't bake

olliebearman Love you too!

user1 Cooking video coming soon?

Y/NtheBaker That's a good idea!

frederikvestiofficial And they didn't taste terrible

olliebearman Thank you! @/Y/NtheBaker, we got one customer

Y/NtheBaker We have a bakery together? I thought I was the baker and you were the driver

olliebearman I could be both

frederikvestiofficial I don't think that would be the best idea...

#ollie bearman #oliver bearman #ollie bearman x reader #oliver bearman x reader #ollie bearman fanfiction #oliver bearman fanfiction #ollie bearman imagine #oliver bearman imagine #ollie bearman instagram au #oliver bearman instagram au #f2 #f2 x reader #f2 fanfiction #f2 imagines #f2 instagram au

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sweetteainthesummerx · 3 months

Text

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (15)

The penultimate chapter!!

series masterlist

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: back to reality

Ollie pushed her luggage to the side, his eyes tired behind a pair of blue light glasses. His hair was smushed a little from the drive over to the airport, but he looked handsome as always.

They were back in Italy, Ollie starting training again before the Canadian Grand Prix. Aubrey had to go back to New York, catch up on classes and deal with auditions and bookings.

“Don’t fall in love with some Manhattan fashion guy,” Ollie pouted, tugging her into him, cradling her head and waist.

“Don’t be dramatic, babe. I’ll see you in like, a week and a half.” She sniffed into his hoodie, but she felt her heart carving itself out of her chest and wedging into his already. Nearly two weeks with Ollie, all tanned, shirtless and happy…now back to the sweltering, bustling city without him. She wanted to cry a little. This sweet boy made her life so much more, so abundant. It felt like time, almost. She knew that he loved her, and she most definitely loved him. But he knew her and he wanted to take it slow so she wouldn’t be spooked. She adored him for it.

He must’ve felt her tense because he pressed quiet kisses into the crown of her head, smoothing her hair away from her face.

“I can’t wait to win in your home country. Promise you’ll text me when you land?” He pressed one more kiss into her temple tenderly.

“Okay, I will.”

With one more squeeze, she rubbed her eyes and entered into the terminal, waving once more at Ollie.

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang SO AMERICAN MUSIC VIDEO! It was an honour to direct my first music video for my girl @oliviarodrigo ❤️

Even though I hate being mistaken as american, this song was too good to pass up 💋

GO WATCH NOW 🇺🇸🦅🗽

liked by oliviarodrigo, olliebearman, and 111,092 others

view all comments

user1 OH SO SHES SERVING SERVING HUH

livieelove OMG THE ULTIMATE COLLAB

aubreyyangcontent liv and Aubrey (successful gorgeous asian queens) 🤝 their golden retriever tall white bfs

-- olliebearmansgf CRYING BECAUSE THIS IS THEIR SHARED EXPERIENCEE

logansargeant we welcome you to America anytime 🤠

-- aubreyollie4eva YO STAY IN UR OWN LANE BRUV

olliebearman real ones know the Vancouver lore :)

-- aubreyyang downtown day when?

-- user2 MOM AND DAD PLSSS

MESSAGES

ollie

just watched the music video

it was so good

aubrey

well what can I say I relate to it hehe

ollie

really?

aubrey

well duh

I mean ig im from canada but ur from england

ollie

oh wow

aubrey

idk I kinda like having a muse for directing

it feels more personal

sorry did I make it weird?

ollie

no of course not love

come to the next gp with me

aubrey

ollie what

ollie

no im serious im having my Aubrey withdrawals

I really want you here

aubrey

okay

okay ill come to you

aubberieyaang posted

aubberieyaang highkey in love with my best friend 🤪

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alexandrasaintmleux I KNEW IT THATS WHY HES ALL RED AND GIGGLY

-- aubberieyaang wait really hehe

leosdad please just tell him this hurts my soul

-- aubberieyaang SOON I PROMISE

celine_diorr fine hes better than any of ur exes and he has my blessing

-- aubberieyaang TY BAE

chuck_bushes Ay he better watch his hands

-- aubberieyaang love u my honorary big bro

f1wagupdates posted

slide one: ollie and aubrey walking through the paddock; he is wearing a Ferrari polo and a backwards hat with jeans and sneakers, she is wearing a vintage Ferrari tank top with her dark hair loose around her shoulders. Her mini skirt is a light denim, and she has a pair of low doc Martens and scrunch white socks. A pair of sunglasses (as seen in her previous posts) pushes her hair back from her face. The picture is slightly blurry, but she is walking in front as he follows suit behind her, one hand on the small of her back. A black Prada handbag is in his hand, presumably Aubrey's.

slide two: a video of David Bearman and Aubrey Yang in the Ferrari garage as they stand side by side, both wearing red earmuffs as they stare enraptured at the screen. Someone moving boxes passes by, and David moves Aubrey behind him in a very fatherly way. She says something that makes him laugh, and he pats her shoulder as they focus back on the screen. The tags on the live TV shows David Bearman, Oliver Bearman's dad, and Aubrey Yang, Oliver Bearman's Partner.

f1wagupdate Aubrey Yang is once again seen in the paddock, this time in Montreal. She is seen with Ollie Bearman's father and Ollie before and during the race.

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aubreyyangfanpage THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF FERRARI RAHHH the first pic is so cute

-- user1 THEYRE BOTH WEARING MERCH AND LOOKING GORGEOUS HOLY MOLY

user2 aww her and his dad are so sweet (when is it my turn PLEASE)

-- f1funnies00 shes so daughter in law coded I SWEAR THEYRE TOGETHER EVEN THE TAG HARD LAUNCHED THEM BROO

premababies hes holding her bag (gonna sleep on the highway tonight hehe)

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik @yla-aira @motorsportloverf1 @gigigreens

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copperbadge · 4 months

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I went to the library this afternoon, intending to get a study room and do some work on the novel, but I got distracted and ended up spending the two hours working on a short story instead.

Georgie has said that Michaelis hired her after she rescued his friend's child from a kidnapping, and it was suggested to me recently that the friend could be Oliver McAllister, Michaelis's old school mate from Pirates of the Riviera. I was skeptical because the timing didn't quite work out, but I couldn't stop thinking about the idea, so I decided to try making it work.

And let me tell you, these messy bitches.

In 2015, Michaelis is deep in his Kingbot 3000 phase so he doesn't have to Have Feelings, and Gregory has coerced him into taking a vacation by threatening a coup. Meanwhile, Olly is fresh from his second divorce, from a woman who just tried to kidnap their child. Georgie is the most together person in the room and she's an unemployed twentysomething who just beat three men unconscious to prevent said kidnapping.

And the most amusing part to me is that because of how I set it up, Michaelis is just trying to be friendly but inadvertently keeps coming across like he's trying to seduce Georgie. Which also makes Georgie joking about trying to marry him for his money in Royals/Ramblers even funnier.

"Ma'am, the police would like to take a statement," Lael said to Georgie.

"I can have Lael find you a lawyer if you want," Michaelis added. She gave him a sardonic look.

"All right, let's get it over with," she sighed. "There goes my visit to the Musee D'Orsay."

"We'll give you the room. Olly, why don't you go in with your boy, so the police can speak with you if needed. Lael and I will be at the cafe next door when you've finished."

Georgie nodded, but he stopped as he passed her and put a hand on her arm.

"Come see us when you're done," he said quietly, ducking his head so the police at the doorway couldn't see their faces. "And cancel your job interview in London."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Stay in Paris. You can see the museum this weekend. The palace will cover your lodging and food."

"I...don't want to offend," she said slowly, "but I'm not -- "

"I'm not flirting with you," he said, realizing belatedly how it might seem to her, and taking his hand from her arm. She looked faintly relieved. "I'm going to spend the time you're giving a statement assembling a job offer for you with my security office. Any young woman who can spot a kidnapping before it happens and soundly beat three grown men should not be leaving Askazer-Shivadlakia to do a job she hates in London. Now, regardless of that, and I say this as a concerned friend, not as king or employer: be honest and helpful with the police, but...economical."

"Just the facts?" she asked.

"Exactly." He gave her an approving nod and followed Lael out. They were silent in the hallway and lobby, until they stepped out into the street and Lael exhaled.

"That was impressive," he said. "Young lady has a great right hook."

"She's certainly very alert," Michaelis agreed.

"It's been a long time since I've seen someone throw a punch like that."

"Say it and you're fired," Michaelis said good-naturedly. He'd known Lael since the head of security had been a young palace aide during Michaelis's first days as king -- if still years older than the king himself -- and he knew what was coming.

"Not since our last trip to Galia," Lael said, voice full of relish. "That time a young hothead punched Duke Tomas in the face."

"Utterly fired. I've found your replacement. I'm putting you out to pasture with no pension."

"You think she'd make a good successor to me?" Lael asked. He was joking but, simultaneously, he was not -- they were both getting older, and Lael was as aware as Michaelis that when a new king was elected in a few years, whoever it was, they would need someone younger, someone who could more easily keep up with them.

"You tell me," Michaelis said. "You're the expert."

"Oh, I've been fired, clearly my opinion isn't wanted," Lael said, as they settled into a table at the cafe, Lael with his back to the wall, eyes always scanning behind Michaelis. There had never, at least as far as Michaelis knew, been an attempt on his life, but he'd become used to never getting direct eye contact in public from the man whose job it was, after all, to watch his back.

"Fine, I withdraw your firing. I suspect purely on her ability to sass me, she is your equal if not your better," he added, as the waitress approached. He ordered coffee and pastries briskly, then turned back to Lael.

"Well, it's difficult to tell on two minutes' acquaintance," Lael replied, "but actions do speak louder than words."

"Agreed. Perhaps a contingent offer? She has a law degree; she could likely earn more than we could offer her for a job like yours, but I think she's looking for the right job, not the right pay. Say three months of probation with guaranteed six months of pay to ensure she takes it, and a firm permanent offer at the end if you approve? Conditions non-negotiable but a bit of wiggle room in the salary, I think."

Lael considered it, then nodded. "I suppose it's paranoia to imagine she might have arranged all this to get into the Palace employ."

"As what, a spy? I love a thriller novel, Lael, but they are fiction," Michaelis replied, amused.

#shivadhverse

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corpsebasil · 6 months

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hiiii ? miss me?

Modern Nikolai parte tres

For some reason you aren’t very surprised when His Royal Highness, Prince Oliver Lantsov, arrives on your door randomly one morning, stopping you on the way out of your apartment with a broad grin and wide splayed arms.

“My Everlasting Delight!” He greets you, formulating a dramatic expression as he peers at you over the frames of his sunglasses. “I missed you, darling.”

“Thought you were in Milan.” You say, staring him down with an empty grocery bag in hand. He shifts on his feet for a moment.

“I uh, was. But then Vivianne…” Olly makes a vague gesture and grimaces. “You know how models are.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Well anyways,” the prince smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders, jovially tugging you down the walkway and towards the street. Cars drive by, busy in the heart of a bustling city. “I just wanted to let you know that my birthday party is coming up. We’re going to Switzerland obviously, and you must come.”

Your stomach twists and you cringe at your friend, the leather of his jacket cool against your arms as you walk. You shrug away from him, the scent of expensive cologne chasing your senses and blending with the crispy breeze of the outdoors.

“I’m not going this year.” You say, giving him a ‘duh’ look.

“Why?” His head actually cocks to the side.

“You know why.”

“‘You-Know-Who’?”

“He isn’t Voldemort.” You sigh, rolling your eyes even as your heart begins to weigh heavily against your ribcage, the too full organ seeming to be longing for a way out. “Yeah. Nik.” You sigh again, louder. “It’d be weird and he’d be there and I’d just—I don’t know, have to hang out on the sidelines at a lot of points and I just don’t think—”

“You’re my friend too, you know. If I want you there than he can be mature for once and behave himself, yeah? He’d do that.”

“This isn’t about him behaving, it’s—” you pause, running a hand through your hair in frustration. What do you mean? Sure, some part of you—more than you wanted to admit—longed to see him. To see the way his eyes lit up when he laughed, see the hidden grin he’d give you when he thought someone in a room was being ridiculous, the way he’d find an excuse to touch you no matter who was around, the way—

“Y/N?”

You look at Olly. The prince’s eyebrows are furrowed, an unspoken question on his lips. You force a faint smile and loop an arm through his, resting your head on the boy’s shoulder for a beat.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” You lie, squeezing his arm for emphasis. He nods but a gleam of suspicion lights up those familiar brown eyes. “Seriously. Now what are you doing here?”

Olly watches for another beat before shrugging, relenting to your change of subject.

“Shopping.” He muses, then smiles deviously. “Join me. I have my mother’s card.”

—

The days leading up to the annual ski-trip were filling you with anxiety.

On one hand, somehow Olly had forced you—against all odds—to attend the weekend outing. An overnight flight to Switzerland later and you’re standing in a large hotel room, the view of snow-clad mountains and trees meeting your stare.

When a knock hits your door you turn, opening it hesitantly. The entire hotel smells like expensive vanilla and hints of smoke from the fireplaces, undercut with natural cleaners from the ridiculously efficient housekeepers. The figure standing outside the door gives you a hesitant smile, his freshly cut blond hair short and shiny in the light.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greets, voice laced with nerves, and your heart stops.

Nikolai.

Hello

#nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #wattpad #fluff #knight nikolai lantsov #six of crows #modern nikolai lantsov #modern nikolai

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lover-cook · 5 months

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Sometimes I forget how evident it is the types of characters I gravitate towards f/o wise like. Romantic, Platonic, Familial, no matter what their are certain characters I tend to feel that connection with that tend to have a visualization or connection to one of four things You've got The Sun/Day - Sun, Gojo, Jackie, Nemona, Astrid, Luffy, Shanks, Wukong, Mari The Moon/Night/Stars - Moondrop, Cassandra, Howl, Stardust Cookie, Moonlight Cookie, Stardust Cookie, Luna, Nebula, Carol, Jim, Arvin, Silver, Giovanni, Mihawk The Fire - Sanji, Red Son, Axel, Capsaicin Cookie, Ember, Mei, Ace, Toriel, Asgore The Neurodiverce - Axel, N, Metal Sonic, Thistle Whistle, Link, Robin, Hifumi, Penny, Tails, Sunny/Omori, Mihawk

Like. I can't complain but it's kind of funny how frequently these kinds of characters are ones I look at and have interest in sknglkndsk

#ollie musings #☀️sunnyside up.rom #🌥️a world of our creation.rom #🍫smile so much our cheeks hurt.rom #🌕moon and stars.rom #💎all i need is you.rom #🌟looking for you in every universe.rom #💫all that glitters.rom #🌙dream a little dream of me.rom #🌕i fell in love with the mare in the moon.rom #🚀the equation of love.rom #🎆you're something out of a dream.rom #🥘a dish made with love.rom #🔥spice of life.rom #❤️i've got you memorized.rom #❤️‍🔥eternal flame baby💀#🌺you set my heart ablaze🧡#🎡you’re as strange as me.rom #💙jumpstart my heart.rom #🪁you make me a little bit braver.rom #platonic #🏆battle buddies #🎇unmapped stars #🥪come on now we found every herba mystica we can do anything!#🐉dragon horse bestie #💣besties through time #🌷 for the record i trust you #🖊️my go to muse #📱more in common than you'd think #familial

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oleander-nin · 10 months

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The Coldest Heart(Yandere Future Rise Donatello x Reader)

A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Apocalypse, kidnapping, freezing, dark themes, yandere themes.

Words: 1291

Summary: Donnie cuts off the heat

Winters were always frigid in the apocalypse, the broken terrain and weather making the places that have never seen a snowflake now completely frozen over. The “snow” that covered the barren wasteland outside the base’s doors was a poisonous brown, bubbling when it touched the ground instead of sticking. It may be frozen, but it was nothing like the fluffy white snow you held dear in your memories. You shiver under the blankets you were given, your body curled up in a weak attempt to preserve the heat trapped under the blankets with you. You were exhausted, sleep pulling at your eyes and trying to coax you under, but the cold biting at your fingers and toes was unrelenting. Your ears and nose burned, keeping you alert as you try to keep out the frigid air. The small amount of heat Donnie allowed in his lab was gone, the furnace broken and vents turned off. Cold had seeped into every crack and was now trying its best to choke you out as well.

You turn your head towards Donnie as he types onto a monitor projected by his ninpo, sticking your face into the bitter cold. His outfit amazed you, the mutant only being dressed in a thin sweater made to stretch over his battle shell and sweats that were a size too small. You look at him in envy, not understanding how he could withstand the freezing temperature in the thin clothing he had. Donnie turns his head at the feeling of your boring gaze, his eyes meeting yours and his tridactyl hands leaving his keyboard which causes it to falter, then disappear. For the first time in the months since he had stuck you in his lab in claims of protecting you, you don’t break your gaze. Whether it was from exhaustion or the cold, you no longer cared about such a simple thing as keeping your eyes off the man you hated most. If he was truly upset with your staring, he could come and close your eyes himself.

“You’re shivering.” Donnie muses, his voice teasing and airy as if the frostbite creeping over your nose was a mere tasteless joke. You scowl, burying yourself back into the plethora of blankets that covered the cot Donnie had you share with him. You hear him chuckle at your childish display, driving in the belittled feeling he had sunk into your heart.

“Fix the heat then.” You grumble at your captor, not caring for niceties. You can hear his chair shift and you look back at him through a crack in the blankets, seeing his eyes averted downwards as he chews on his cheek. His knuckles are now digging into his teeth, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he seems to be debating himself over something. His shoulders are more hunched, like he was a little kid who got caught stealing cookies late at night.

“You know I can’t.” Donnie says, like he was trying to be firm but his voice falters. He still refuses to meet your eyes, only staring at the floor as he chews on his knuckles. Your eyes narrow, your knees pulled closer to your chest as another cold burst breaks through the blanket barrier.

“You’ve already fixed it.” You accuse, the chattering of your teeth breaking up the sentence and making it sound more pathetic than you hoped. Donnie finally pulls his fist away from his mouth as he stares back at you, crossing his arms and protesting with a loud, “indignant scoff.” If you could feel your feet, you would run over there and strangle him.

“If you’re cold,” Donnie starts, his voice tight as he dodges your accusation to try and quell your thoughts, but ends up confirming it instead. “You can grab a blanket and come sit with me. I’ll keep you warm.”

You sneer, diving back under the blanket den you had created around yourself. Even if you wanted to cuddle up to the person who was holding you hostage in the name of ‘safety’, you couldn’t. Your feet were so frozen you couldn’t feel them more than a dull pain, and your fingers couldn’t close around the thin material of the blankets anymore. Silence stretches through the lab, and you’re sure Donnie had given up and turned back around.

A quick padding of socked feet breaks the silence and two arms wrap around your covered self, lifting you from the cot and into Donnie’s arms. He mumbles a swift apology as you flail and curse, quickly moving back to his chair and depositing you in his lap. He shifts the blankets around, helping you pop your head out so you could see. Donnie cups your cheek with one hand, the other still firm around your lower back so you couldn’t squirm away from him and escape. The feeling of his hand on your face is one you always hated, but the burning head of his warmth makes you hiss in pain rather than disgust. He was an oven, his hand slowly heating your cheeks and bringing color back to your face. You melt into him after a minute, nearly crying when his warm hand leaves your cheek to cup your ears.

“You are cold.” He mutters, mostly to himself. He continues to try and warm you himself for a small while, attempting to bring your body temperature up from the dangerous levels it had fallen to. He eventually signs and gives up, summoning a projected screen with numerous switches and buttons. He clicks a few things before closing the screen and pulling you closer, easing open the blankets you clung to so he could pull your whole body against him and try to warm you up.

You hear the vents above slowly whirr to life, the room slowly being filled with a strong heat that makes your head spin. You blink at Donnie, your limbs unstiffening as you try not to cry.

“You fixed it…” You mumble, letting your head hit the dull point of his plastron. Donnie nods, rubbing your back beneath the blankets. Anger pools in your chest for only a moment, the relief of the heat taking over and the exhaustion pushing through once more.

“I fixed it within minutes of its breaking. I wasn’t going to let the base freeze.” Donnie pulls you closer, kissing your temple with a smug smile. “You, however, weren’t letting me touch you, so I turned off the heat to try and convince you to let me touch you more, but that seems to have backfired.”

You scowl, hitting his shoulder with your forehead. You wanted to scream, to bite him, to do anything to make him suffer like he had you for the past few days, but you don’t. You were terrified he would turn the heat back off. His lab was obviously able to be isolated from the other parts of the base, which horrified you. For all you knew, he could leave and seal the doors before shutting the oxygen off for a couple minutes, just to let you suffer.

Donnie continues to rub your back, his quiet humming not showing any bit of remorse for the torment he had put you through. He seemed happy with the outcome, and you figured he was. Here you were in his arms, just as he wanted. Maybe once you could feel your fingers again, you’d try and fight him, but for now, you had given up. The heat was too much of a reward for you to risk losing it now. Even Donnie’s arms were a price you were willing to pay to not freeze. His plan had worked, and now nothing would stop him from doing it again.

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cordyce · 2 years

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hello ollie ollie…i picked “stop saying i’m jealous. i’m not— i just. i don’t like having to share” from the prompt list and im thinking with either jake or joel !!! yiu can choose from the two kisses ur wrinkly brain

containing your–excitement? giddiness? thrill of finally having dirt that will weigh in your favor on a scuffed up scale? the specifics aren't important–is not easy. you're just catching your breath from dancing, something joel has opted out of doing in favor of playing a game of poker with his brother and a few others. so, really, if anything he's the reason for his own demise.

"a little birdie just dropped a message in my pretty little hands," you muse as you plop yourself across his lap. and he doesn't hesitate to snatch his arm around your waist so you don't fall backwards, but he doesn't look up from his cards.

a tell, if you've ever seen one.

"grimy, more like," he huffs, and it earns him a few chuckles around the table. not in the notion of poking fun at you, but because they, much like yourself, can see through his little puckered up facade.

(you bet it's because they've already gotten a grumbled out earful of it before you made your way over here. in fact, you'd put money on it. maybe the boys would let you borrow a few of their poker chips.)

"rude. anyways," you move right along, fingernails making work of scratching at the nape of your lover's neck. something like his achilles' heel per se. though you'd argue you're the entirety of his heel alone, regardless. "a little birdie told me you've got your panties in a wad over me. maybe stirred yourself a little bit jealous?"

this time, it's tommy who snorts out a laugh, placing his cards on the table and looking over to await his brother's response. joel's jaw ticks, the permanent crease between his brow deepening. you fight the urge to lean forward and kiss it.

"y'tell ellie to mind her own," he differs, placing his own cards down and sliding a single chip to the middle of the table, "and i ain't jealous."

"aht aht, i said birdie, not ellie. i won't incriminate my source," and out of the corner of your eye you can see said source listening in from the edge of the dancefloor herself. "and it's okay to be a little jealous. it just goes to show how much you love me."

he clenches his teeth. "i'm not."

"you sure are, and that's okay. i mean, jealousy is a totally normal feeling when seeing someone else dance with your partner. especially when it's someone like marcus. he's so good on his feet. did you see? the spin move he did with me? yeah, i'd probably be jealous too. in fact, i think i'd be so jealous that–"

"stop it," joel interjects, low voice cutting through in a way that sends shivers all the right places. you've done it; poked the bear until he roared. how uncouth of you. and joel wonders where ellie gets it. "stop saying i'm jealous. i’m not— i just.."

he takes a breath, tightens his grip on your waist and slides his free hand up and over your thighs that are draped over his legs. he levels you with a stern look, but it isn't mean, or callous, or overtly commandeering. it's grounding.

"i don’t like having to share."

and somebody else, a lesser person maybe, might find it hard not to shrink under his stare. but not you. no, you simply wind your arms a little tighter around his neck, lean in real close. you test the waters like you have no fear of drowning. and maybe you don't—not in the deep abyss that is joel.

"you wouldn't have to share me if you would simply come and dance."

honestly, it's meant to be just another tease. so maybe that's why a yelp squeaks out of you as joel stands up from his seat with zero hesitation, your weight being nothing to the arm he still has secured around you.

there's hoots and hollers from the poker table as joel whisks you off to the (previously forsworn and abhorred) dance floor, and ellie bubbles up a laugh and shout of her own as joel side steps a little awkwardly to the song they have playing. and you, well. you find that jealously is ironically a bit cute coating his worn and dejected features.

#ohhhh he makes me sick #blurb #joel miller x reader #joel miller blurb

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winniemaywebber · 2 months

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stop - muse a holds muse b back from walking back out into the fray

courting - muse a rests one hand on muse b’s back and holds out the other for muse b to hold to help them climb up/down something

for whichever of your girls you feel inspired for today, please!

-lestweforget5

hiiiii friend! thanks so much for this. I loved writing this one (from this prompt list, feel free to drop them in my ask box if one seems to pique your interest!) I wrote for Olive and Dougie 🥰

She is a little miffed. The effects of being apart from her best friend Valencia were beginning to take hold, despite her traveling back to Brooklyn only two days ago. Val and Ev had made the journey to Michigan with Olive, the pair of them staunchly certain on making sure their girl got there safely.

courting: muse a rests one hand on muse b's back and holds out the other for muse b to hold to help them climb up/down something.

Olive awakens with a sigh, patting the empty space next to her. She had hoped that Dougie would still be sound asleep next to her, whimpering slightly as he dreamt before curling himself around her when he feels she's shuffled closer to him. Alas, he is nowhere to be found, his side of the bed cooled off making it obvious that he'd been up for quite some time.

“You don't have to, Ernest,” she had protested after they'd been told the price of three train tickets to Lansing. “I can make it myself!”

“No,” he had replied sternly, his eyes darting towards his fiancee, Val. “We are coming with you.”

“Too right,” the Brooklyn native had interjected, her hand going to grab Olive’s and their fingers intertwining. “Besides,” she sighs. “If he doesn't see his guy, he'll be upset. Think he's having withdrawal symptoms.”

“Hey!” he teases, hand comically on his heart. “How did you guess?”

The girls had, of course, spoken on the phone the very second Val and Everett had arrived back in Val's hometown, the pair of them chuckling down the phone receiver. It was a strange feeling, sharing the same sleeping and living space, the same air and body heat for almost two years to now being apart like this. The pair of them feel as if a part of them is missing, and it's a part they both need in order to function. At this realization, Olive feels her chest tighten as tears stream down her cheeks, wiping them away quickly when she hears the creak of the wooden stairs as someone climbs up them. There is a soft rap on the door, before the golden door knob rattles as it opens.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Dougie greets softly, retrieving a tray and closing the door by kicking it closed with his leg. “Thought you might be hungry,” he says, gesturing towards the tray that he puts down on the blanket. She looks down and sees toast, coffee, a bowl of fruit and a delicate pink daisy he'd stuck in a small jam jar. Before she can help it, she feels a sob rise up from her chest to her throat once again, two fat tears dropping into the coffee.

“Hey, sugar,” he soothes, moving closer to her to wipe his thumb under her eyes in order to dry them. “What's up?”

“It's so silly,” she sniffs. “This is just all so different and I don't do well with change. I'm still used to waking up with Val in the hut and now–ugh, I'm sorry. I'm happy to be here with you, truly I am. It's just…”

“Strange?” he asks, finishing the sentence for her. “You've had a lot of changes all at once, Ollie. I get it, honey.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, wiping her nose quickly. “You got up early. I thought you'd still be asleep.”

“Well,” he shrugs, his hand on top of hers. “I had a feeling you'd be a little sad today, so I did something for the two of us and thought we could go out.”

“Oh, Dougie,” she cries. “I don't think I'm feeling good enough to even go beyond the backyard.”

“Then that's where we'll go. Saves on gas,” he jokes, leaning over and kissing her forehead. “No rush, okay? Eat, relax, come down when you're ready.”

“Okay,” she breathes, biting into her toast and sipping the coffee. “Perfect.”

—

Eventually venturing down the wooden stairs, Olive takes one last look in the mirror that hangs on a wall at the bottom of the stairs, smoothing her dress of a final few wrinkles.

“Hey,” she smiles, as Dougie turns around to greet her. His eyes soften the moment he sees her. “I know we're only going in the backyard but I thought I'd feel better if I made myself pretty.”

“You look beautiful, sweetheart. As always.”

“Thank you, darling,” she replies, her cheeks turning a sweet shade of pink. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles at him, that dimple he's crazy about showing itself as she grins. He takes the two steps that separate them and kisses her deeply, her arms winding around his neck while his fall to her waist, momentarily running his hands over the soft material of her dress as he pulls her even closer.

“Come on,” he says. “Everything is set.”

—

A simple, large gingham blanket lays on the slightly overgrown lawn under three large trees, the blossoms just beginning to bloom at the turn of the season. They sit with their faces toward the sun, the soft warmth of it already making Olive feel a little less alien in her surroundings. Right above them is a tree house, the wood creaking in the gentle breeze of the day.

“Is this a picnic?” she asks, eyes narrowing playfully at him.

“Sure is, Ol. Do you like it?”

“I love it, James. This is gorgeous.”

“Phew,” he breathes out, comically wiping his brow. “I'm still trying to figure out what we both like to do together. So much of our time used to be taken up that we never really discussed it.”

“War tends to do that, my love,” she laughs, kissing his cheek as he sits beside her. “Thank you,” she murmurs, nesting into him.

“Anything for you, doll. Here,” he says, rummaging in a picnic basket. “Made your favorite.”

“PB and J?” she asks keenly, unwrapping it right away. “And how did you cut it? Crank’s way or Gale's?”

They both laugh, reminiscing on Olive's first PB and J where the whole gang had convened in the Mess Hall kitchen to give British Olive the true American experience of her first peanut butter and jelly sandwich. All had helped, including Croz spreading the peanut butter, Val spreading the jelly, Helen finding a plate. Ev even cut the crusts off before handing it to Egan, who, instead of making himself useful, took what he called a “tester bite,” all while Charles and Gale debated whether it tastes better cut into rectangles or triangles. Crank had won the toss, Olive presented with two neat white triangles on a small plate.

“Crank's way - the only way,” Dougie says, taking a bite of his own. “I'll never forget the moment I saw your life change after taking your first bite.”

“Yep,” she giggles, the bread sticking to her teeth a little. “Been my favorite ever since; but only if you make it.”

“Why?”

“Tastes better that way.”

Olive turns her head up slightly to shade her eyes from the glowing afternoon sun, finding a wooden board on top of a few conjoined tree branches.

“What's up there?” she asks, pointing to what she's just seen.

“Oh, that?” he asks as he looks up. “My old treehouse. Dad and I built it one summer.”

She stands, wiping her hands on her skirt and finds a small set of stairs leading up to a doorway.

“Can I go inside?”

“Nuh-uh,” he says, shaking his head. “Read the sign, please.”

“No Girls Allowed,” she reels off. “James Douglass, you are–”

“I know. And there's proof that I've always been this way. Cheeky and insufferable.”

“Let me in, meanie.”

“Only because it's you,” he winks, leaving the blanket and joining her at the stairs. He goes up first, making sure the old, rotting wood would hold the pair of them. When he is sure, he places one hand on the small of her back and pushes a little, allowing his free hand to grip on to hers to help her up a little.

“This is adorable, James,” she squeals, taking practically tiptoe like steps to avoid the wood creaking or anything falling. “So cute.”

“Don't let Mom catch you up here with me,” he laughs, once again nodding towards the sign.

“Insufferable,” she sighs, shaking her head.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But you love me.”

“I do,” she smiles, taking his hand in her own and stroking the back of it with her thumb. “Gimme a smooch,” she giggles, pulling him towards her. “No-one's around to see you break your own rule.”

#honeysuckle rose #oc: olive lewis #james douglass #Olive x Dougie #james douglass x oc #masters of the air #masters of the air fic #masters of the air x oc #mota #writing prompt #ask answered #winnie writes

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cyberphuck · 1 year

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Assassin’s Apprentice Abridged: Part One

EDIT: Tumblr randomly swallowed like 500 words in the middle of this, so I've added that back in.

I am finally embarking on my long-threatened project to summarize all of the Farseer Trilogy for my friend Razz so they can understand my shitposts about it but don’t actually have to read it. I started with this post about the cast of characters in the first book.

This is being broken up into sections because the trilogy and AA in particular (as well as Royal Assassin... whew, that one’s gonna be hard) is so insanely long and complex.

And now, Ladies and Gentlequeers, AA Abridged: Part One.

We open on the narrator musing both about writing a history of the Six Duchies (but being unable to because every time he tries it turns into a salty rant about everything bad that's ever happened to him) and also about how very old and decrepit he is. He is hunched over his writing desk, his fingers gnarled and knuckly, literally crumbling away like a Thanos-snapped MCU character as he sorrowfully attempts to make some record of the long and storied life he's lived before he lapses into the sweet void of death.

Fitz is 35.

"I bet you're wondering how I got here," Fitz writes. "It all began when I was born. Neither of my parents bothered to show up."

Actually, the curtain opens on Fitz as a six year old, being hauled up to the front doors of a fort by a cranky older man. "Surely you must have memories of your childhood before six," someone in the audience asks, but Fitz replies "No, I definitely don't, I never did and I'm tired of you asking me that." It never really becomes super important what he was doing before he was six, unless you count the time where he was traveling from the King-In-Waiting's ballsack to the sweet hot vagina of Some Lady He Never Spoke To Again.

Fitz is scooped up and brought inside the fort, and presented to Prince Verity. You'd think Verity would be at least a little upset that his older brother has muddied the line of succession with his long-ago nut, but Verity acts as if Fitz's existence is the funniest thing he's ever seen. "Yep, looks just like him," Verity confirms, then instructs a soldier to bring Fitz to Burrich.

That's right, the cranky old man hammers on the front door, waits for someone to open it, says "this is Prince Chivalry's kid and I'm tired of dealing with him," and then walks off. Despite this, Fitz never develops any abandonment issues and only has healthy and honest relationships with people for the rest of his life.

"Those are all the memories I have of that fort," Fitz writes, "except for that one night that Prince Verity, Burrich, and Prince Regal stood and looked in on me in the stall and Regal complained that I was muddying the line of succession."

Burrich does not think this situation is as funny as Verity did.

But he's honest and loyal, so he sighs and says "C'mon, Lil Accident, I'll find a place for you to sleep." That place is in a horse stall with Vixen, the hound dog, and Nosy, her pup. Burrich looks down at all of them, mutters "Patience is gonna have a fucking aneurysm" and then walks off.

After a couple of weeks, Burrich puts Lil Accident on a horse behind him and they ride away from Moonseye and towards Buckkeep. During this time, offstage, Fitz's father Chivalry gets word of his appearance and does the only sensible and logical thing, which is to ollie out the window while flipping everyone off and yelling "GOOD LUCK FIGURING THIS ONE OUT, LOSERS!" He abdicates and retires to a farm with his weirdo wife, which pisses off basically everyone.

Burrich and Fitz arrive at Buckkeep, the capital of the Six Duchies, a tall castle on a hill overlooking the ocean. Burrich is the stablemaster, in charge of all the critters large and small at the keep. He'd also been Chivalry's right hand man until he'd jumped in front of a boar to keep it from killing the Prince and fucked up his leg. Burrich comes home to Buckkeep with a bad leg and a six year old bastard to find that his bestie has just fucking peaced out without saying anything to him. He's kind of having a bad day. He hands Fitz off to stableboy Cobb, who leads him and pup Nosy to the kitchens to get something to eat.

Cobb sits FItz-and-Nosy just outside the kitchens and goes inside for delicious pie. A burly man walks by Fitz, does a double-take, then points and yells, "Hey everyone! It's Chivalry's Bastard!"

Fitz shrinks down.

"I heard you don't even have a name!" Burly man hollers, then gets right up in Fitz's face. "Is that true, tiny and defenseless six year old boy that I'm accosting? You don't have a name?"

Fitz yells "NOOOOOO" and, like a tiny, dirty Jedi master, force-shoves the man onto his ass. The crowd, assuming that the dude was just a coward who couldn't handle being yelled at by a toddler, has a laugh and carries on with their tasks. Fitz gets up and he and Nosy run away and spend all day hiding in a hole.

Burrich does eventually find him, and with a hearty "what the fuck you can't just burrow underneath the shed, get out of there," returns him to the stables, where his new home is Burrich's little bachelor pad above the stalls. In the days and weeks that follow, Fitz wakes up, eats breakfast, and immediately escapes the keep to go down to the town and run around with a bunch of street kids.

Fitz doesn't say much but he's game for anything and he has a dog, so he's accepted into the gang as "Newboy." He and his new friends generally just run around making trouble, stealing food, and bothering people. One of the notables in the bunch is Molly Nosebleed, called that because she always looks like someone just got done beating the shit out of her. Wholesome!

One sunny day, Fitz, Molly and Nosy are on the rocks near the beach looking for sheel to eat. I have no idea what sheel is and neither does Google. Then Molly's dad shows up to hit her with a stick to teach her a lesson about having a drunk, violent dad.

Alarmed, Fitz force-shoves Molly's dad into the sand. Molly immediately freaks out and struggles to get dad back on his feet to stagger back to their candle-making shop (or chandlery if you're feeling fancy). Fitz is confused at the intricacies of abusive relationships, but relieved that no one yet knows that he has force-shoving powers.

Aside from his brief encounter with childhood trauma, everything is going great for Fitz. Then one day, while he and his fellow urchins (and Nosy) are running from a dude whose sausages they just stole, Fitz runs right the fuck into Burrich.

"You get your butt right back up to the castle, young man," Burrich says, dragging Fitz along by his ear. "And if I EVER find out you've been down in town hanging out with someone again, I will personally have sex with them a bunch of times," he added foreshadowingly.

"I don't have to do what you say," Fitz barks.

"Bark," says Nosy.

Burrich's eyes narrow. "How many fingers am I holding up?" he asks.

"I don't really know numbers," says Fitz.

"Bark," says Nosy.

"Nosy says that's three," Fitz translates.

"Alrighty then, no more puppy for you, the puppy is going to live on a farm upstate," Burrich says. He drags the puppy outside.

Presumably something cool happens to it.

So now instead of slumming around Buckkeep Town, Fitz spends his days following Burrich around and being taught how to manage horses and dogs but not birds because birds apparently hate bastards. Fitz is careful not to let Burrich see him being friendly with any animals.

One day, Fitz is sitting underneath a table in the Great Hall, being friendly with a bunch of puppies. It's the morning after a party and there's plenty of leftover food to be had, and he's happily stuffing pies down his shirt and sharing pieces with the pups. Then he hears footsteps and who should show up but KING SHREWD!

Shrewd is technically Fitz's grandfather but has never really spoken to him. He's walking along with Prince Regal (*crowd boos*) and the king's new fool, a weirdo albino child who's just cartwheeling along behind them.

Fitz goes "hmm, time to bounce" and crawls out from under the table. Shrewd stops to look at him. "Ah, the Little Accident," he says. "If you leave weapons laying around, someone will eventually pick them up and stab you with them."

"What?" says Regal.

"What?" says Fitz.

"I am not going to leave you laying around for someone else to kill me with," Shrewd says. "Lil Accident, take this pin. I am going to to feed you, train you, house you and clothe you. If anyone's got shit to say about it, show them this pin. It means you belong to me."

"...Okay, sure," Fitz shrugs. He puts the pin into the collar of his shirt. Shrewd nods magnanimously and walks on. Regal flips him off. The Fool cartwheels out the door as they leave.

That night, Fitz goes home to Burrich's bachelor pad, but Burrich turns him right back around. "You done gone and did it now," he says. "King Shrewd noticed you and now you're gonna have to go live inside the castle like a fancy lad. Go on."

"But despite my fear and resentment of you, I see you as a protector and father figure," Fitz says.

"Oh little boy who blew up my life, I love and resent you too," Burrich assures him. "If you get lonely, you can come back down here and I'll murder another puppy for you."

Fitz trudges up to the castle. He has a room of his own. There's a fucking weird tapestry on the wall of the ancient King Wisdom consorting with... what is that thing? Slenderman? It's creepy.

Weeks go by. Fitz is kept busy with new lessons in reading and writing and 'rithmetic, as well as swordery. Once in a very long while, he makes the trip back down to the town to visit his buddies, but those trips become fewer and farther between.

It's the middle of the night.

Fitz wakes up to a draft and a light in his face. There's an old man at the foot of his bed, holding up a lantern. "Come with me," the old man says.

"Oh," Fitz yawns, getting out of bed. "It's the call to adventure."

The old man leads Fitz to a doorway in the wall that hadn't been there before. This is where the draft was coming from-- a steep staircase leading up between walls. Old man leads Fitz up a maze of passageways and then finally to a huge hidden room with all the amenities a crazy old wall-man could want, like a fireplace and comfy chairs and a big bed and a library and a science lab.

Also, the old looks like he took a hot frying pan to the face. Like he really looks like hell.

"Wrow," Fitz says.

"Wrow indeed, boy," the old man agrees. "My name is Chade. I bet I look familiar to you. Well it's because I'm King Shrewd's brother and I blah blah blah I have a weasel named Slink. Next you're going to ask what the fuck happened to my face. I can tell everything you're thinking, because I'm a master spy and assassin and-- now this part you should take to heart-- I am always right about everything. Never doubt me."

"Okay," Fitz says.

"Good. That out of the way, let's train you to kill people."

#rote #robin hobb #farseer trilogy #fitzchivalry farseer #aa abridged #farseer trilogy abridged

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