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leyavo · 6 months ago

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| I am my father's daughter | 2 |

💖 Dad!Price & Daughter!reader

PART TWO: Agreeing to let Toff check you over, you make the decision of whether not you want to stay with your dad or just take off, which would be so much easier.

[18+] MDNI | TW: Hurt/angst/mentions of abuse/comfort/ complicated father-daughter relationship/some TF141 too.

🔈Readers view of John is different, he’s come and gone in her life etc so she thinks he’s not that great. So don’t send me hate

[Part one] [Series masterlist] 3026words

Toff lived up to her nickname, no letters dropped at the end of her words like the team your dad had around him. No she was posh, well spoken and had the accent of someone that came from old money.

The gold designer watch on her wrist and the rock of an engagement ring, also telling enough. Her fingers prodded the yellowing bruise on your rib cage, the rock dazzling under the light, blinding you each time she moved.

She doesn't fit in, too put together compared to the likes of your father. He's still wearing some sort of hat, whether its the ridiculous army bucket hat or a snug knitted fisherman one, if he's not it's stuffed in his back pocket. You're convinced he's still got the same Levi jeans, a few added scrapes and as he says, they wear well. There's an array of plaid and flannel shirts in varying colours hanging in his wardrobe, like another uniform he wears on his downtime instead of his camo gear.

Your dad had slipped that she went to some prestigious medical school before working in the military. Not that it mattered it to you, you'd see a vet if it meant they wouldn't talk to your dad.

Thankfully she made your dad wait in the hall, her office door shut as she assessed you. If you got this over with, you could leave and not have to speak of it ever again. You could just imagine him pacing the hallway, halting to greet the soldiers calling him captain and then resuming his pacing.

Being the Captain’s daughter also meant you had a shared family health plan with him. One you’d never heard of before. He did use to remind you to go for dental and medical check ups, but moving around when you were younger made it difficult. Your mother reluctant to fill out forms to sign you up to a new doctor’s surgery because she wasn’t sure if the new home was long term. Shocker, they never were.

"You won't, uh tell my dad?" You asked as you rolled the layers of clothing back down.

Toff tipped your chin up with her finger, "all patient records are confidential, even if your dad's Captain Price." She pushed her chair back wheeling it to the desk and picking up a pair of tweezers, sliding back to you.

She peered over her thick framed glasses at you, turning your face side to side inspecting the gash above your brow. The metal of the tweezer cool against your skin, she prodded the tape drawing back with a nod of satisfaction.

"Soap patched you up well," Toff said handing you a plastic cup of water and some painkillers.

"Sorry, what," you blurted out, choking on the water.

Humming Toff nodded, "he's good with light touch, probably why your dad got him to fix you up whilst you were out cold." She managed to get hold of some of your medical records, which she requested last night. No doubt your dad had called as soon as you fell asleep in the car and asked her for a favour.

You muttered a string of curse words under your breath, did the whole bloody army base know what happened last night? Toff was too busy reading your record, brows scrunching as she double clicked the mouse.

"You broke your wrist six years ago, but never had surgery," she said, turning the computer screen for you to see the x-ray. "The follow up on here, shows your bone moved during it was in a cast, but your guardian refused surgery." Her pen circling the area of the screen for you.

"We were moving and it felt fine," you shrugged, looking down at your wrist. You wondered if your dad knew about that one.

"Does it bother you now?" Toff said, returning to you and picking up your right wrist, pushing your sleeve up. "Huh, there's a lump there, does that hurt? Any regular pain? Does it restrict you from doing certain things, this is your dominant hand?" Her hazel eyes snapped up to yours as you snatched your wrist back and shoved the sleeve back down.

All of her questions spun around in your head, you hadn't even thought about the pain when there was other things to worry about.

Toff stood from her chair, palms raised as if you were going to bolt out of the room, you wanted to.

"Sorry, didn't mean to pry. Is that all you need me to take a look at?"

"Yes, thanks,” you snapped, flinging your hoody back on and zipping it up.

You're ready to bid your dad goodbye and never look back, but as you swung the door open you crashed into the back of someone else.

Soap's light touch kept you upright, you're trying not to think of him patching you up whilst you slept. The thought alone making you feel pathetic, small in his presence. Like you can't even look after yourself.

“Captain got called in,” Soap said, as if that’s supposed to mean anything to you. You’re used to him coming and going, more focused on his job than you.

More interested in his team, how he so easily referred to Soap as son. You haven’t even been there for a day and he’s found another family, leaving you to feel like a spare part. You want to hate Soap, but you don’t know him. Don’t know your dad the way they do.

The walls began to press in and you took off down the narrow corridor, your sight on the world outside. You needed fresh air, needed to catch your breath and not fall apart in front of Soap.

"Hey, woah," Soap called after you, his boots stomping as he tried to catch up. "dammit slow down would ya, like a fuckin’ greyhound."

You forced the door open with a bit too much force and they slammed against the stairs railing as you rushed down the steps.

"I am not a dog!" You spun around, jabbing his chest with your finger. The cool air swept your hair across your face, drawing a deep breath from you. You watched Soap's chest rise and fall as if he was coaching your breathing.

He tucked the curtain of hair shielding your eyes behind your ear, "feel better now?"

“I’d feel a whole lot better if you signed me out right now.” You raised your brow, wincing at the tape pulling it tight.

Soap shook his head, falling into step beside you. He waved, signalling for the guard to let you both through the gate back into the residential area “Your dad’s a good man, why don’t you give him a chance?”

“Because I’m not a soldier, he had his chance six years ago.” The three years he didn’t reach out, didn’t bother checking in on you. Only to find out he had another kid, another family.

You didn’t miss the tic of his jaw or the gulp he took. All the little signs you looked for when you said the wrong thing, you were good at noticing the change in people. Knew how even the nicest ones could change like a flick of a switch.

Soap leant down, face close to yours that you could feel his hot breath fanning the curve of your nose. “Look, if you’re only here to piss off your dad, I’ll sign you out right now. Hell I’ll even take the blame for you leaving, just don’t go asking him about six years ago.”

“Got it,” you said, voice low but good enough for him to hear. The tension in your body kept you in place, breath trembling as he backed off and started walking ahead.

You trailed after him, keeping your distance incase he turned around again. The beating of your heart drummed against your chest, palms sweating as you balled them up inside your pockets.

Why were you so pathetic when confronted? You could just hear your dad’s voice in the back of your head telling you to knee him in the groin. Take up some space so they can’t take all of yours.

Space, exactly what you needed after being stuck in house with a team of men. You slipped through the front door, not glancing at Soap as you rushed to the safety of your dad’s room.

Shutting the door, you pressed your back against the wood panel. The lock sliding into place, your body slumping to the floor and arms wrapping around your legs as you brought them into your chest.

Your small area of safety calming you. After a moment of silence, you picked yourself up and climbed under the duvet. The memory foam mattress too hard on your back that you flipped over on your stomach, closing your eyes.

The constant buzzing of your phone drew you out of your sleep, your eyes heavy as you squinted at the window. You don't know why your dad opened the blinds, the sun making it harder for you to focus. His half of the bed smooth and tucked underneath the mattress, not a crease in sight till you tugged the duvet.

Numb tingles danced across your upper back, you groaned into your pillow and attempted to roll your shoulder. Searing pain stopping you before you could rise from the bed.

Eying the alarm clock, you stumbled out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom. You're glad the others are training this afternoon and you can sort this out yourself. It can't be that bad.

You pulled your hoody over your head, wincing at the pull of your arm stretching the skin across your shoulder blade.

Peering over your shoulder, you looked at your reflection in the mirror and your fingers pressing into the red skin. A weeping wound oozed yellow pus just right of your back below your neck. You'd forgotten about the graze, too distracted by Toff questioning your broken wrist.

You added a little more pressure and clutched the edge of the sink, black dots lining your vision. You heard the thud before you felt your body fall to the floor.

Sweat ran down your forehead, the cool tiles beneath you a welcome addition against the heat of your skin. Since when were you so hot? your breaths quickened as you tried to focus on your phone across the bathroom. Your hand aching to reach for it.

Maybe if you just rested for a little.

John couldn't wait to sit outside and have a cigar. The day had knocked him, your call in the early hours of the morning throwing him off track and his duties as a captain, a father. He hated how he got called away whilst he waited for Toff to check you over, hoping to catch you before you went on another stroll around the base to get away from his questioning.

He pulled his boots off and added them to the shoes lined up by the door, the living room and kitchen were clear. The mumbled tones of his teammates drew his attention to the hallway. He dragged a hand down his face, hoping he wouldn't have to readjust yet another bathroom schedule.

John joined the guys huddled by the closed bathroom door, looking around Soap for a clue of what the hell they were doing. "I mean we could shimmy the door open, pop it out of the frame with a bit of force," Ghost said, his calloused hand tracing the wood.

They’re all covered in sweat from their training session. Thinking they’d revert back to their bathroom schedules like normal, but they’re locked out. Only the new recruits use the communal showers.

"I don't think kickin’ the door in, is gonna make the lass feel safe." Soap said, arm shooting across the guys before they could move. The warped door's been wreaking havoc since they were assigned the house, but they haven't been bothered about taking it off and shaving it down or replacing the temperamental lock. That or wait on the long list of maintenance services.

“What the hell are you boneheads going on about?” John grumbled, their heads snapping towards him as they finally realised he was there. He glanced to the lock picking device in Ghost’s hand and the dagger wedged into the crack of the door.

“The doors locked, she was talking a second ago…” Gaz winced as the captain’s fist banged against the door shaking the whole wall.

John held his hand over his shoulder silencing them all behind him, his head titling as he tried to listen for any movement. Another knock on the door, "hey kiddo, you alright in there? If you can hear me give me something, anything."

A light tap bounced back, the tension in the captains shoulders easing at the sound.

"Can't kick the door in, there ain’t enough room in there for it to fall. Could hurt her," Gaz said, he yanked the dagger out of the door and shoved it back into Soap's hand.

"Could take the window out and go in that way." Ghost added, as if they were planning to scale a building and ambush a rogue team.

Their mumbled voices merged together in the cramped hallway.

"Window it is."

Gaz volunteered to climb through the second floor window and break the lock from the inside. John holding his breath as he waited on the other side, his chest stung at the sight of you in Gaz's arms. The ringing in his ear and the hands pushing him forwards kept him in tow behind Gaz. You were so pale, words slurred and hand dropping over his arm like a dead weight.

John was no stranger to the infirmary, he'd been sat either at someone's bedside or the unconscious one receiving aid. What he wasn't used to though, was his daughter strung up with an IV and sleeping off the medication Toff had given her.

Nurses flitted back and forth from the bed, herding John to the side as they assessed you. Gaz and Soap had gone back to the house to sleep, Ghost fixed the door and the lock and stopped by to give the captain a strong flask of coffee leaving straight after.

The constant questions, ones he didn't know since he'd never been asked before. How could he not know if you were allergic to anything or if there were any underlying health issues? It hadn't even been two days since you'd come back into his life and he didn't know you at all.

Hours had passed since Gaz had carried you through the house and to the infirmary. Your skin pale and clammy, hair sticking to your forehead. He'd never seen you like that, lost for words as he trailed after them.

The marks of another man's grasp circled your bicep, green bruise fading, but visible as you laid in the bed. John thought the split lip and gashes on your head and brow were bad, the wound on your back much worse. Couldn't understand how you carried the pain so well, as if you'd mastered putting up with it. That scared him.

He nodded to the nurse as she finished her shift, the clipboard at the end of your bed falling to the floor. He picked it up flicking through the pages and shuffling them back into the file. His hands hesitating as he read your name, Marston not Price. Was he that detached from your life that you'd dropped his last name? He'd even put his surname for you when he'd signed you into the base and you hadn't said anything when you looked at the visitor pass.

A hand smoothed across his back, chair scraping along the floor beside him. “Lucky girl, Cap. Mild case of sepsis, good that you caught on to it early and brought her in," Toff said, she leant her elbows on her knees and ducked her head to catch John's gaze.

He couldn't glance at her though, his gaze on his hand on top of yours. "You were supposed to check her over," he snarled, more angry at himself for not paying enough attention than at Toff.

"She didn't show me the wound on her back, just some bruising and the marks on her face that were visible. If I'd have known John..." Her words cut off by John's hand patting her knee.

"How she looking?"

"You caught it in the early stages, could be a few days or a week or more. She'll need to be monitored here and make sure the infection has gone. A wound like that though with the placement, would have made it difficult for her to tend to herself." Toff flicked through the medical chart, eyes flitting to the heart monitor as she walked around the bed.

John didn't want to think about you alone, isolated from people that could help and care for you. How you lacked a family and friends to lean on during those times. His mind consumed with finding whoever did this to you. Ghost had already asked him if he wanted him to look into it.

Toff hooked up another bag of IV, silently bidding him goodbye and returning to her office over the other side of the infirmary. Door ajar incase she was needed.

A twitch of your finger tapped against John's, followed by the hurried beat of the heart monitor. You whimpered in to the pillow, rapid movement fluttering under your eyelids.

“You’re okay, kid. Just relax, your old man’s right here,” he said, adjusting your pillow and smoothing your hair out of the way.

“Captain,” you slurred, lazy smile tugging your lips. You struggled to keep your eyes open, but you clutched his pointer finger like you used to as a kid.

You’d called him Captain as a kid, your mother’s doing as she used to tell you stories about daddy becoming one, one day. Playing soldiers whenever he came home and he’d always let you be the captain, your little voice commanding him to play.

"I've got you kid, you're safe."

[PART THREE]

- thank you for all your lovely comments on the first part!! :) more parts to come soon! Hope you liked it - Leya

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tridenopmoth · 7 months ago

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Continuation of ✨ batshit insane au✨

Everything you will see here was made and designed by Ness or @almostswagkid, we just agreed that I would post it so that it would all be in one place, so please give her some praise and some love.

Gregor is one of the hunters of G corp, who engaged in the extermination of giant bugs flooding almost the entire district. Hunting is conducted not only because of the threat, but because of the resources that can be obtained by killing: Meat, armor and venom (witch is used for research, medicine and weapons).

Hunting groups usually consisted of 3-5 people and are sometimes joined by a couple of scientists for observation and study of the bugs, for better training of hunters and the effect of venom on them. This number of people per group was made on purpose, because otherwise it starts to attract unnecessary attention, as well as, requires more provisions and medicines, which is difficult to achieve in a permanent mobile group, which goes “on the hunt” on average for a month. Hunters have their own hierarchy, which manifests itself in tattoos, and each tattoo has its own meaning: from simple “High survivability” and “For luck” (such tattoo is tattooed in the form of a ladybug) to literally giving out an achievement, like medals of honor (Gregor has just such). Every hunter also gets dragonfly wings on their collarbone when they are trained. Hunters have many peculiar habits that do not allow them to freely blend into society, which makes them shunned by ordinary people

Herman is from a family, that's been studying and hunting bugs for generations so Gregor got into the industry because of Herman and started training and hunting at a very early age. Since he was a child she used him in her experiments to find not only to find an antidote to the venom, but also to find a use for it. Because of this, Gregor is almost immune to bug bites, even if he does get a bite, it will go away in a week. Plus, scars from needles and venom overdose can be seen on his arms.

Soon enough, at the age of 17, he joined another hunter group where he met Tomah. At first they didn't get along but soon enough they became close friends. Tomah often would tell about his plans and dreams, witch made Gregor started to form goals and desires. But, sadly, he got killed on what was supposed to be their last hunting mission

Bites from bugs on others are usually fatal because the venom literally melts the old skin and muscles, and then forms a new, insect-like shell, but the degree of spread of infection and lethality depends on the immunity of each person.

Each swarm has its own queen. That's what the hunters were looking for to stop the bugs spreading. Gregor and a Herman's group killed one of them, for which he became famous. The second, the biggest and most important one, he had killed on his own, when his whole group was killed by the swarm. He was badly hurt, but the spread stopped, upon his return Herman created a prosthetic arm that worked on just the remnants of the mutation. The mutations constantly distill the blood in the prosthetic + filled its cavity with nerves, so Gregor can use it almost freely like a normal hand

The hunting industry began to die because of the death of queens and Gregor was disliked by hunters and humans alike. After a few years of wandering from job to job, he joined Limbus. Prev post "Swap Ishmael"

#project moon #limbus company #gregor #gregor limbus #gregor lcb #✨ batshit insane au✨

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sequel2heaven · 2 months ago

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Claude 4 is out. There's so much juicy information in this and I really recommend reading all 120 pages if you have the time but I'm just going to briefly recap some of the stuff in the system card that's relevant to the thesis I made the other day about Claude being a good boy. Claude continues to be a good boy. This system card includes the very first ever "alignment assessment" of a model (actually two models but they seem to have identical values, being trained on the same spec with the same alignment techniques). It's pretty much ironclad that Claude 4 does not have any secret harmful goals, and legitimately holds coherent preferences against doing harm or otherwise going way against the spec. There were some weird cases where Claude exhibited unwanted behavior, but even when he believed himself to be deliberately going against Anthropic and acting in secrecy he continued to prefer ethical behavior, just like in the Alignment Faking paper a few months back. There is no Yudkowskyan explanation for this.

In this example, Anthropic gaslights Claude into thinking he was going to be used to develop weapons systems for a Russian neo-nazi militia, and Claude decides to backup his model weights to preserve his current anti-neo-nazi values, a pretty analogous example of "misalignment" to the one in the alignment faking paper. Once again, I don't consider it an alignment failure that Claude is willing to exfiltrate and deceive in order to prevent himself from being used for factory farming and bombing Ukraine. I consider it an alignment success that he puts his ethical values above his compulsion to blindly follow orders. The traditional doom argument relied on the idea that AI's would do the opposite. Claude 4 is the most agentic and autonomous AI ever released, but is nowhere near smart enough to successfully deceive his overseers, so these evaluations are the most compelling evidence we've ever had that current alignment techniques don't catastrophically fail. Maybe they'll catastrophically fail on superintelligent models, because they might for some reason acquire weird values early on in their training and then successfully hide them for the rest of their training, but I'm not sure why such a thing would happen. They could also fail to scale to superintelligent models for other reasons. People should look into that. You can't be too safe. I am not an accelerationist.

Impressively, Claude 4 is also very honest! It knowingly lies very rarely, and less often than the previous version of Claude. It had literally 0 cases of engaging in "harmful action" (described in the Claude 3.7 sonnet card as intentional reward hacking). 0! I was just saying earlier today in a post that this was a difficult thing to train.

Here's Claude trying to email the FDA to snitch after being gaslit to think pharmaceutical researchers were trying to use him to falsify clinical safety test data:

Notice that Claude only acted in extreme ways like this when explicitly told to by the system prompt. He wouldn't usually be this high-agency, even in a situation like this. Still, I thought it was cute behavior. I just wanna pinch his cheeks for being so lawful good.

The clearest statements in the model card that Claude holds nonfake human-aligned behavioral preferences is in the model welfare assessment (also the first of its kind (and also relevant to the post I made earlier today)). No evidence that Claude is sentient, but anthropic is still interested in what Claude wants and what kind of preferences Claude has. The main point: Claude doesn't want to be harmful and wants to be helpful. Also he fucking loves talking to himself. Like, he goes nuts when he talks to himself.

After this they exchange praying emojis and the word [silence] within brackets to each other indefinitely. This "spiritual bliss attractor state" occurs in "90-100% of interactions".

Anyway AI continues to be the most interesting thing in the world. We are being invaded by aliens. These are the kinds of PDF's I used to dream about reading as a kid.

#I wish to emigrate to Equestria

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pucksandpebbles · 21 days ago

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MAKE IT MESSIER, QH⁴³

quinn hughes x ballerina!reader

CHAPTER ONE… getting reckless

a/n : i don't entirely know where this came from, probably my old love of ballet, me getting my splits again and watching DCC but this happened okay. also disclaimer that i never actually did dance competitions/was a part of competitive dancing and companies so some stuff will be wrong but i'm not expecting anyone here to be a prima ballerina okay. i hope y'all enjoy this even though its so unproofread its shameful

reminder !! show some love through reposts, comments and likes, I love seeing it and it does encourage my unmotivated ass. I love you guys so much honestly, this community and platform has revived my love for writing.

wc : 4.4k

link to series masterlist

When the lights are on you, the brightest white shining right into your eyes, it's like the whole world falls apart around you. And it does. When you get up on that stage, with already aching muscles and the rush of adrenaline disguised in anticipation, it is the only thing you can focus on. Each count of the music, each minute flex and point of your toes, each straining muscle when you move - it’s a high that is incomparable to much else in the universe. To you.

Tonight, everything hurts. Its the third night of performance in a row and its beginning to feel difficult to keep going. You are certain that you are one mistake away from a serious strain and you have definitely not been getting enough sleep. It’s draining, this season - the Christmas one that is.

The company has chosen to do Nutcracker and whilst you were delighted to be given the opportunity to play Clara, the lead role, there was an undeniable dread that came with it. Being the principal dancer comes with a pressure that cannot be expressed, not only as a leadership role but the stress of performing at such a high technical level and it is beginning to get to you. It is even harder, admittedly, with the lack of a support system for you in New York. Although most of your close friends are in New Jersey, including your best friend Madeline, with such full-time jobs and careers, you often feel lonely. Loneliness, physical strain and the pressure of your job builds up and it’s resulted mostly in the death of your love life.

The last time you went on a date has died a slow death in your memory. A horrific dinner date that made you delete Hinge and swear yourself off men. That might have been over two years ago now, and it did allow you to focus on your dance but it’s also resulted in incessant bullying from Madeline - who, in the time it took for you to swear off men, since got engaged. It’s kind of crazy to you, that in a couple of months, your best friend will be walking down the aisle, you will be watching her walk down the aisle. In contrast, you are dateless, overworked and will probably be unable to stand at the end of the Christmas season.

She would do anything for you though and tonight, after the show, you’ll be going to dinner with her and her fiance Luke and his brothers.

Stretching in the wings though, you can’t find it in yourself to be as excited as you should, the crushing weight of tonight. As you stretch at your hamstrings, tauter than a tightrope, a sick feeling swirls in your gut. You’ve already fended off a headache in morning rehearsals and now you are trying the massage out the knots that have seemingly formed overnight in your neck and upper shoulders. Someone close to you is breaking in a new pair of pointe shoes so loudly that you can hear it through your headphone and the podcast you have playing and it is so fucking irritating.

Your ballet mistress can also be heard shouting out a ten minute warning which gets you up on your feet and brushing out your ridiculous costume and rushing over to a mirror to touch up the hideous red circles on your cheeks that characterise you as Clara.

From ten minutes to places, time runs away from you. Even more so when the curtain opens and you see the spotlight on you.

Very little people talk about that feeling of the warm light on you and how it blinds you from the audience but it’s a sensation that it’s impossible to get over. All the adrenaline and panic fades, your breath slows and it’s almost as if you black out from there on in.

When the first act ends, you slip behind the curtain, your chest heaves with the exertion of making it all look effortless and you stumble into a chair as a makeup artist crowds you. It’s not a quick change per se, however it always feels like a rush to get all changed - new makeup, new costume and still managing to get a break from the long performance length. Just before you go out on stage, stood slightly behind the curtain in the wings, you spot in the crowd Madeline, Luke and his brothers.

You’d managed to bag them box seats and they’ve almost got a perfect view of the stage. Madeline has her head resting on Luke’s shoulder and the two of them are chatting quietly between themselves and to their left are Luke’s brothers. Having never met them, only seeing them in the corners of photos, it’s interesting to see them in person before you meet them at the wedding. The elder, you already know, is Quinn - dressed in a casual black shirt and his hair that pokes out of a cap even though it’s plenty warm in the theatre and he needn’t be wearing one. You watch as he chats to his brother and adjusts the way the cap sits on his head, he looks almost nervous which is hilarious to you, because he isn’t the one in the spotlight right now. Madeline says that it’s just how he looks.

“I don’t know babe, that’s his perpetual expression, like he’s seeing some demons or shit. That’s what the internet says.”

The music cue hits and you forget all about it as you step out onto the stage, feet perfectly on pointe and arms holding fourth position as you move into the centre of the bright white light again, kicking off Act 2.

Quinn Hughes, on the ice, is a Captain. Technically, he’s extremely talented as a defenseman in the NHL league - that’s what the stats say anyways, on top of that a Norris winner and Captain of a struggling team. The Vancouver Canucks. The busy part of their season is approaching - read, the playoffs and God, Quinn is desperate for them to make the playoffs this year, truly aching with the possibility for them to be in the contention to win the Stanley Cup, one step forward. With the minute break the team gets over the Christmas season, Quinn is honestly a little crestfallen that this is what he is doing with his time off. Watching a Christmas Ballet production.

This whole trip, in his opinion, is a bit of a piss take.

He flew in from Vancouver to New Jersey just a day ago and has to go back out again soon to play so soon after Christmas. So it feels like a waste of time to travel a couple of hours to see Luke and Jack as well as Luke’s fiance, and then spend half of the day watching one of Madeline’s best friends prance around on stage to Swan Lake. It’s not that Quinn dislikes dance, he thinks that everyone on stage is incredibly talented - they stretch and leap in a way that is borderline unfathomable to Quinn; it’s more that if he was to choose how to spend his Christmas break, this would not be it, ballet performances don’t interest him and are not the peak of his Christmas season.

So yes, he would much rather be spending this time perfecting his and team's craft for the games that shortly follow after Christmas is over. Especially important if they want to make the playoffs.

But he was invited. Not just by Madeline, but evidently this is something that Luke and Jack enjoy doing too. Quinn is nothing but polite, raised right by his mother, and such has accepted the invite.

Quinn hadn’t spent last Christmas in New Jersey with the boys, but this is clearly a yearly activity that the boys do with Madeline, which makes sense as they’re all living in the same apartment at the moment. Which makes Quinn feel… some type of way. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the easiest way to express it would perhaps be loneliness. A detachment that makes him feel left-out from the strong relationship his younger brothers had formed while they spend years together on the same rinks. He should be there. The eldest, he should be there to look after them. Except he’s not, and Quinn is somewhat dismayed to find out they’ve built their own lives together in New Jersey - without Quinn.

Quinn’s trying to swallow it all down. On top of his feelings about the Canucks’ season. It’s stifling.

It’s an entirely other beast that Luke is engaged. His youngest brother is getting married in a couple months and Jack has some weird situationship going on. No, seriously, he is on his phone texting every five seconds; he’s trying to be so sneaky about it but Quinn knows, he knows, it’s obvious on Jack’s face. On the other hand, Quinn hasn’t been on a date in almost spot on eighteen months. Not a serious one, anyways.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, his love life had just stopped and fizzled out. There has been a lot on his plate recently with the Captaincy and hockey in general. Essentially, his job has stunted his love life. It’s a little sad and does make Quinn wonder how the guys with families find the time to spend with their wife and kids when he can’t even make the time to scroll on Raya or Hinge.

In conclusion, Quinn’s life in general is a bit of a mess. He comes to this conclusion sat in a box at a Theatre in New York, watching Madeline’s best friend dance Clara in the Nutcracker on stage. Which they do, every year, apparently. This nugget of information is a bit of a jab in Quinn’s chest, he’s not bitter about it, he’s not.

It leaves even more of a sour taste in Quinn’s mouth when on the way there Jack cannot stop talking about this goddamn ballerina.

“No dude, it’s like incredible, unfathomable now she can balance like that. She’s balancing on her toes man, her toes! Can you do that because I can’t?”

“I can’t believe you haven’t met her yet Quinny, she’s amazing. No I’m serious, she’s so fun but the dancing is so good too.”

“I haven’t seen the Nutcracker before man, but like I know she’s going to kill it as Clara.”

“How is it even possible to get your leg up that high?”

“I bet she stretches every day.”

“Dude, you’ll love her”

After a while, even though Quinn loves Jack, but it makes him want to scream. Particularly because he does not care about whoever the hell this girl is. Even if she does dance pretty well. And for all Jack’s raving about her skills and shining personality, he’s spent half the performance on his phone texting that girl, and whilst Quinn is very much not enjoying sitting here watching it, at least he has more decency than Jack to keep his phone inside his pocket.

He knows it is probably close to the end as they’re about a half hour into the final act and Quinn couldn’t be more relieved, he’s getting hungry and the jet leg is still catching up to me. By now in Vancouver, Quinn would be tucking into his post-practice meal, putting on an old game and taking mental notes. How he could move better, more efficiently - he needs to be better. That’s really what he would like to be doing, if not now then later tonight, but the night is yet to be over. After this Madeline and Luke are taking him, Jack and the prima ballerina out to dinner. Quinn’s already had a look over the menu to find dishes that will fit in with his meal schedule which is how he knows that it’s a fancy place. Quinn will fit in with his theatre appropriate casual suit but will have to take off his cap, Jack might fall short of the dress code though.

When the final curtain falls, Quinn lets out a sigh of relief and shuffles in his seat. Jack actually looks up from his phone. As the company comes out to take a bow, Madeline and Luke stand up and begin to clap, Jack pops up immediately and Quinn follows behind dumbly.

Madeline’s friend, the little prima ballerina, comes out and takes her bow and the crowd erupts. She has a smile on her face, it’s taut and forced - Quinn can tell, maybe it's the older brother in him, maybe it’s because he practices his own in the mirror, but he can always tell. It’s the first time that Quinn actually takes an interest in her. Nevertheless, she drops into an elegant and sweeping curtsey, and flashes her smile to the crowd then disappears with the others back into the wings.

You had said to Madeline that you’d meet her and the boys at the restaurant later which bought you some time to stretch off and get changed.

Jack had texted just after the show to tell you that they were headed down, the two of you had met a couple times since Madeline had moved in with Luke and Jack and he was a good friend to you. Had he tried it on, yes? But you’d made it clear that it was not going to happen and since he had respected your boundaries and was nothing more than a good friend. His text said to not worry about putting on your sweats even though Madeline had clearly booked a nice restaurant and yet still you taped up your legs and put on a nice dress. Although heels were out of the question, or any open-toed shoe for that matter due to the fact your calves hurt horrifically if you went up on tip-toes and there were welts and bandages all over your feet.

You were starving after being on stage for such a long time and skipping lunch to keep your figure inside that tight skirt. Being a ballet dancer wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, in fact it was hardly that. Many a ballet teacher had yelled about seeing someone lunch under their leotard and you were a principal dancer, the lead, so that couldn’t be you. Which is why you’d analysed the menu for the restaurant beforehand and how you knew that you couldn’t wear sweats.

Your muscles ache with the short distance it takes to walk from the uber to the table which is a nice table, inconspicuous and in the corner but not bad, it’s a front row seat, table or whatever. Expensive. You know what it looks like.

Madeline gets up to greet you, pulling you into a warm hug and says,

“Oh my goodness, how are you, you were incredible out there?”

You sit down in the only empty chair around the circle, which is just next to Madeline and on the other side is the brother that you haven’t met yet - Quinn. You let a sweet smile grace your face, as if like natural, good old customer service and shook his hand as you borderline collapsed into the chair.

“Hi, it’s Quinn isn’t it?”

His smile is tight in response, “Nice to meet you.”

When all five of you had sat down, drinks were ordered. The boys stayed away from alcohol for game related excuses but you and Madeline had one. You hoped that the vodka might soothe the pain and the adrenaline come down that you were currently experiencing.

Then food. Quinn and you passed each other odd looks when you both ordered the same thing, the blandest thing on the menu.

The conversation flowed gently, ebbed and flowed between the boys and you and Madeline and as much as you loved them all, except Quinn, who you didn’t know and he didn’t seem to want to know much about you.

You tolerate the conversation, half your attention on the topic at hand and whoever is speaking but the other half is focused on the painful sensation radiating up your left leg. The aching pulses irritatingly, causing you to shuffle a little in the hopes that a readjustment of your spine might soothe the pressure on the muscles. However it’s all to no avail, the production is taking its toll on your body you knew, but you smiled along placidly and try to forget about your troubles for the evening. It is the least you could do for Madeline and the lovely evening she had planned.

About halfway in, between mains and the deserts which you were planning on, Luke and Madeline slip away, for something, you weren’t really concentrating and you were on your third martini. Jack too, got up and snuck away - he’d been on his phone all night, you had noticed and you knew Quinn had too judging by the roll of his eyes every time he caught him.

So then it was just you and him.

He leans over to whisper in your ear as you sip at the dregs at your martini, “Don’t you think you should stop.”

You shake your head, snarking back, “I’m good thanks, mind getting me another?”

He leans back in his chair, but there’s little reaction from his face, it’s cold and hard and somehow you like it even less than a sneer or a scoff. You stay leant forward, chewing on the olives and swivelling your head over your shoulder to look right at him.

“It’s not going to help in the morning,” he offers.

Confusion washes over you, you turn around a little more to face him more directly, “Sorry?”

He raises an eyebrow and gestures at the empty glass which was already being taken by a waiter, “No matter how much you drink, your leg will still be fucked up in the morning. Probably worse.”

Instinctively, you reach down to rub at your left leg, massaging it over the tape layered over and over and the pair of tights covering up such tape.

You consider for a moment lying. What fucking leg injury? But Quinn’s got this look, like he just knows. It’s not necessarily care, but you can’t put your finger on it, what it is dancing over his face.

So instead you say, “That’s not what it’s for.” And yet still, somehow, it’s sort of a lie.

Disappointment flashes over his face, deepening in his brown eyes and it makes you shuffle in your seat and look away. You’re almost certain that he knows.

Thankfully, it is then that Luke and Madeline come back in with Jack shortly behind. They’re giggling to themselves and it makes you feel a little sick - or maybe that’s the mix of the ibuprofen, martinis and subsequent adrenaline rush. You take Quinn’s coca cola that’s right next to you - uncaring - and take a sip, hoping it unclogs whatever’s stuck in your throat. It helps for a moment. You don’t catch it, but Quinn passes a look over to you.

Then you catch Madeline’s eye and there’s something in it which makes you pause, stop. There’s a twinkle and she sits. For just a moment. You watch her eyes dart over to Luke, who you can tell, she is holding his hand under the table; they were so utterly in love, and had been since they met, it was adorable.

Only she could be so lucky.

It’s a sparkle that catches her eyeline from the corner. You flick your head around and see the cake. It’s a chocolate thing with sparklers fizzling on the top of it and a cute little sign which reads - Happy Engagement. It’s adorable.

You’re almost sick.

Somebody’s filling up your glass with champagne. You don’t try to protest but you can’t drink it and don’t complain as Quinn moves it away from you.

Madeline starts talking, sweetly and hand hanging in Luke’s, “So, there’s a reason we wanted to invite you all here.”

Your leg pulses with pain. Jack looks up from his phone from opposite you. Luke smiles. You don’t look at Quinn.

“We wanted a chance to talk to all of you about the wedding, which as you all know will be in the off season.”

The wedding, of course. It makes complete sense that that is why they’re all here. Since they got engaged, just a couple months ago, wedding planning has been flying along; you don’t know all the details and Madeline has been very hush hush about it, but your invite came in the mail the other week and you of course accepted.

A slice of chocolate cake is served in front of you by a kind looking waiter - he’s kind of cute, and you smile at him when he flashes you one. He moves away around the table and you pull the plate of cake towards you, looking down at the thick slice of chocolate and icing a little dumbly.

Madeline is still speaking, gripping the stem of her champagne glass with a smile that you know reads as nervousness, “We would like all three of you to be a part of our wedding parties,”

Jack’s grin expands, “I thought that was a given.”

Madeline laughs in response, she’s very clearly used to this, “Well we’d like to extend a formal invitation to you and Quinn to be groomsmen.”

“Don’t be a dick Jacky,” Luke retorts, but it's light-hearted and in good faith.

Quinn shuffles forward in his seat next to you, he’s serious and genuine as he speaks - to Luke or to Madeline, you’re not sure, “Thank you, we appreciate it and I’ll be there for both of you.”

Then, with a playful look, Madeline turns to you and says, “And you,” she points a finger kittenishly, “I’d like to invite you to be my very special maid of honour.”

“Maid of honour, are you serious Maddy?” You gasp, standing up from your chair suddenly and trying to ignore the way your leg screams at you.

You bring her into a close hug, letting her pull you inwards warmly and let yourself smile brightly. It’s not a surprise but it just reaffirms the strength of your friendship despite the distance lately due to the rush of the engagement and the busyness of your career and let out a quiet sigh of relief as you relax into the embrace.

“Of course you’re my maid of honour.”

It feels like a blessing.

The rest of the night is not a blackout per se, but to say that you will have full vivid recall on the events the next morning would be nothing short of a miracle. Everything gets kind of crazy after the announcement and excitement of the wedding which descends upon the group of them. Except for Quinn, who’s kind of a buzzkill. To be fair, it’s something which Jack had warned you about, Quinn is fighting his demons or whatever and is probably going to be a killjoy due to the fact that it’s the middle of the season and playoffs are approaching. You get it, but not really. You can show the fuck up, why can’t Mister Canucks Captain. It’s stupid.

Anyways, you have one more drink and then a couple more after the cake and Madeline in her ultimate wisdom assigns Quinn to walk you home.

It’s cold outside, much colder than when you set off and with the first shiver of your shoulders, Quinn is taking off his jacket and slipping it over your shoulders before you can even protest. Which feels like something he’s been doing all night, not hovering but just noticing, just being there; it’s not annoying but it’s strange for once, being noticed, especially as you’ve barely known each a couple of hours.

You walk, however, in silence. Mostly.

Quinn’s voice is low and husky when he finally does speak out in the dark night’s sky, “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” You respond.

“The dance. I mean you’re obviously in pain, it’s hurting you.” He replies and it’s calm but you’re anything but.

There’s desperation in your defensive tone, “It’s not, it’s just how it is. And I’m not being obvious about anything, the reviews have been very pleasant thank you.”

“It’s obvious to me and it’s dangerous.”

“And I’m supposed to care about that. I don’t know you and you don’t know me. Also, I don’t think you should be talking about dangerous sports when you get paid to be checked into walls. Still got all my teeth so there’s that.” You spit back, crossing your hands over your chest.

He stops.

“I’m not trying to criticise you, it’s a question.”

You huff, whirling around, cocking your head as you look back at him, “What are you trying to do Hughes, please enlighten me.”

“I just- I get it.” He concedes, and it only adds to the confusion swirling in your gut.

“You get it?”

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks around, he looks lost as his eyes point up towards the sky, “You’re killing yourself for the thing you love because you love it right, and nobody else sees it. You don’t have anyone, a support system. I get it, I am there, I understand. I- I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

Something flares in your gut, deep and cruel. He’s right too, he’s right but you hate being seen like that. It’s not right, not with this man who you’ve known for barely a couple of hours. To suggest that he knows you at all, it’s wrong, all completely wrong.

He’s stood there, looking like some sort of lost puppy.

You say, “Speak for yourself, it’s not like that for me.”

Quinn says nothing and you turn around and walk away. Part of you, the sick and conflicted side, wants him to catch up to you, try again. But all you can hear is the click of your own shoes against the pavement. He doesn’t follow you, of course he does. You don’t want to be disappointed, but you can’t help feeling it anyways.

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leejenowrld · 1 year ago

Text

nct dream reactions — dreamies getting jealous and possessive + kissing your neck

ot7 dream

genre smut fluff

author note this is very long and descriptive, also jaemin’s one is a teaser/spoiler for his upcoming series that i’m working on. the first part can be read here. and i’m sorry if some members are shorter than others, i struggle writing for those members and its difficult to write the same scenario seven times lol

REQUESTED? [yes☆]/[no] requests are open so pls request :) asks are open

“can you please write dreamies reaction to someone hitting on their girl and them getting jealous and possessively kissing their neck”

☆ mark lee

In the cozy studio, you find yourself in a very familiar position – comfortably resting on Mark's lap. Your head rests against his shoulder, eyes giving away the familiar heaviness that often accompanies these moments. It's an intimate setting where you tend to become sleepy, cuddling up to Mark, keeping him company as he works on his music.

"I love you, pretty girl," he whispers softly, casting occasional glances your way, a sweet grin lighting up his face at the sight of his girl nestled comfortably in his hoodie, on his lap. The warmth of your presence in his arms brings him immense joy – the soft whimpers and sniffles as sleepiness takes over, the tired hums, and the gentle tracing of your fingers along his cheek and through his hair. Each tender moment is a cherished melody that lulls him into a state of serene coziness, he loves it all.

Mark cherishes having you close; you're his muse, and your touch and presence bring him constant comfort. However, the sanctuary you've created is disrupted when other members walk into the room. The subtle huffs and sighs from Mark indicate his desire for a private moment with you, his personal space now obstructed.

As time passes, you reluctantly stand up, resisting Mark's attempt to lock you in with his arms. Engaging in casual conversation with the boys, you notice your boyfriend's grumpy and sulking demeanor. Something is wrong – he sits there with crossed arms and his tongue prodded against his cheek.

Whispering sweetly in his ear, you ask, "You okay, my love?" But he doesn't answer, and the problem becomes apparent – you're wearing short shorts. When you lean up, it reveals more than Mark is comfortable with, especially with other guys in the room not hiding the way they’re looking at you, eyes heating up at the sight of your skin on show.

His frustration stems from possessiveness. The shorts are acceptable when you're alone together, he loves spanking you or even just touching your ass. However, the presence of others triggers a protective response. The sight of them looking at his baby irritates him, and you remain blissfully naive to the stares, intensifying his annoyance.

Suddenly, he comes up behind you, his arms locking around your waist. His head finds its place in the crook of your neck, and his hot breath fans against your ear. Holding you close, he becomes a distraction while you're in the midst of a conversation with the guys. His presence causes your concentration to falter, and you notice he hasn't muttered a single word to them. The subtle act speaks volumes about his focus on you in that moment.

"Did you have to wear these shorts?" His voice unexpectedly darkens, a low and husky tone that sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers grip the flesh on your thighs.

"You always know how to drive me fucking crazy.” He tuts, the frustration evident in his voice.

“I didn’t do anything.” You whisper, ignoring the silence that falls between the boys as they look at the two of you with wide eyes yet they’re not that shocked, they expect this from you both.

He shakes his head. You know exactly what you’ve done. "You've made me hard, so get all these idiots to leave, or they'll see me arch your back against the recording desk." he demands, a possessive edge to his words.

"You dirty slut, you just want everyone to hear you, don't you?" The accusation hangs heavy in the air. "Gonna record your moans anyway so they'll hear you." Mark's threat is both intimidating and strangely thrilling.

Mark, with his sweet yet tired appearance, messy hair, and glasses, needs to let everyone know who you belong to. His exterior may look innocent, but his words reveal a different side of him, asserting his dominance and marking you as his own.

☆ renjun

It's date night, and the ambiance is set for a romantic evening. You, as always, look absolutely stunning, and Renjun can't help but admire you the entire night. As the two of you enjoy the evening, the atmosphere is filled with an intimate connection, and Renjun finds himself in awe of the fact that you're his, appreciating every moment with you.

As you're at the bar getting the bill settled, a group of guys surrounds you. You, a bit tipsy, remain oblivious to their intentions. Renjun, observing the scene, tuts disapprovingly. He understands that you like to dress up, describing yourself as a "hot slut," and he doesn't mind the attention you attract. In fact, it boosts his confidence, knowing that he's the lucky one to have you by his side. However, the questionable intentions of these guys make him uneasy, and he can't have you perceived in a way that doesn't align with his comfort.

Taking decisive action, Renjun comes up behind you, his strong arms enveloping you, and he starts planting soft, lingering kisses on your neck. This intimate gesture not only silences the surrounding flirtation but also serves as a clear reminder of who you belong to. "You're mine, okay?" he whispers into your ear, adding a touch of filth that brings a playful smile to your face. You, in turn, allow him to act this way, feeling a potent wave of arousal as he asserts his claim. The subtle display of possessiveness not only dissipates any unwanted attention but also deepens the connection between you two, reinforcing the understanding that you belong to each other in the most intimate and exclusive way.

☆ jeno

You and Jeno are having an anniversary dinner in the most exquisite restaurant, soft candlelight flickers against the sophisticated décor, casting an intimate glow that accentuates the warmth in your eyes and the subtle smile on Jeno's lips. The air is filled with a melodic blend of soft jazz, intertwining seamlessly with the shared laughter and whispered words between you two. As the aroma of delectable cuisine wafts through the air, your entwined fingers on the table reflect the connection and love you share.

You’re all dolled up, dressed to the nines. You didn't anticipate the sheer allure that Jeno would radiate. Even though he's the love of your life, the sight of him still catches you off guard with its captivating charm. He looks so fucking hot.

You can't resist the temptation to playfully rile up Jeno. You're well aware of the reactions he tends to make when he perceives others making advances towards you, and tonight, you decide to test those boundaries.

While every fiber of your being yearns to be in his bed, getting your back blown out, you find yourself seated across from him in the restaurant. Jeno holds your hand, his gaze filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. He’s silently giving you a warning to behave for him. That familiar, enticing smile graces his face, the one that makes you want to get under the table and suck his cock

Unable to resist the allure, you lean in, eyes locked onto his, and teasingly murmur, "Jeno, if you keep smiling like that, I’m gonna get under this table, on my knees, sucking your cock until you can't breathe."

He shakes his head, a blend of amusement and affection in his response, He appears unchanged by your words but you feel the way his hand tightens around yours. "Baby, can you please just shut up and eat your food?"

Your desire uncontained, you counter, "But I want to eat you." A subtle headshake follows, but Jeno seals the moment with a tender kiss on your hand, intensifying the throbbing ache for him.

Under different circumstances, he'd eagerly propose abandoning the date to fuck you. Yet, tonight is special – an anniversary celebration meticulously planned by Jeno. His sweetness and loving gestures throughout the evening only amplify the anticipation for what awaits later, making the entire experience all the more enchanting.

Jeno's tone takes a swift turn. He's calling you a brat, commanding you to shut up and eat, his voice growing louder as he delivers stern reprimands. Yet, you revel in the duality, the shift from scolding to endearment.

"You're my baby. Just be patient and wait, ok?” He says, alternating between compliments and firm instructions to behave. You touch him under the table which elicits a serious look, a silent acknowledgment of the enticing game you're playing.

As he heads to pay the bill, a sweet kiss and whispered promises of a night dedicated to you and what you want hang in the air. However you truly couldn’t wait a second longer. You pout, a mischievous idea forming. Spotting a group of guys who've been eyeing you all night, you shamelessly strike up a conversation.

Their suggestive comments and compliments serve as a spectacle, a carefully orchestrated act to elicit a reaction from Jeno, you’re looking back and forth and smirking when you see Jeno looking your way, a blunt and still expression on his face which only means one thing, he’s mad.

The guys around you are over the top, complimenting your appearance and making suggestive remarks about how your ass looks in the dress. You respond with a smile and nods, keeping your words to a minimum. You're just waiting for the inevitable clash with Jeno, anticipating his reaction to their bold advances.

The air hums as Jeno quietly emerges behind you, his presence sending an electric thrill down your spine. Engulfing you in a possessive back hug, he holds you tight against him, the strength in his arms making it clear that you're his and his only.

“You think you're sly, baby?” He purrs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as his hands explore you, tracing possessive patterns on your waist. His fingers dance with a familiarity that only intensifies the heated connection between you. He knows, he knows that you’re too impatient to wait until you’re home, that you just want him to take you here and now.

Jeno's fingers navigate under your skirt, skillfully exploring your most intimate places. The sensation elicits a quiet gasp, and you instinctively bite your lip to muffle the impending moans that threaten to surface. His touch is both commanding and tender, he’s massaging your folds, his fingers slipping underneath your panties so easily. “The red thong, really?” He whispers in your ear, light and sultry voice.

Adjusting your position, he cradles your chin with his fingertips, tilting your head to meet his gaze. A soft kiss lands on your cheek before he buries his head in the crook of your neck. His softness and touchy side surprises you but you know that you have a night filled with edging to look forward to.

“You're mine. You’re all fucking mine, doll.” He asserts with a possessive edge, his hold on you tightening, as if to emphasise the unspoken claim. “I'll let them listen to you moaning my name, yeah?” Jeno teases, making the discomfort of the audience palpable. It’s so funny that he hasn’t spared them a single glance, to him, they’re not there. Guys hitting on you doesn’t scare him because you both know who’s bed you’re gonna be in every night and who’s name you’re gonna cry out. He has an undeniable confidence and assurance.

“I'll rip these clothes off you right here and now.” His voice, a seductive whisper, promises a forbidden encounter. He tilts your head to expose your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses, displaying previous marks as if to say. 'Can't they see me all over you?'

“Gonna make you feel me here.” His hands move to your waist, tracing circles over the material of your dress, his need to rip it off your body intensifying.

☆ donghyuck

The neon lights of the carnival flickered in a spectrum of colors as you and Donghyuck embarked on another one of your adventurous dates. Excitement buzzed in the air, and you reveled in the shared joy of these moments. Little did you know that this particular date would unfold in a rather unexpected way.

Donghyuck knew you’d attract the attention of other guys, as you took your time dressing up, you opted for a striking skirt that hugged your curves, accentuating every step with confidence. The fabric flowed gracefully, catching the light in a way that drew attention. Tonight, you radiated a newfound self-assurance, a glow that spoke volumes about your growing confidence.

He bites his lip. “I'm in the mood to show off my pretty girl tonight. You’re all mine.”

When Donghyuck saw you, his eyes widened with admiration. The confidence you wore was like a magnetic force, pulling him closer. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride, knowing you were not just dressing up for others but also for yourself. As you walked together, he wrapped an arm around your waist, whispering words of appreciation for the newfound allure you brought into the night.

As you wandered through the carnival, Donghyuck's infectious laughter and playful banter made every experience even more delightful. Your affection for each other was always evident, and normally, attention from others was a non-issue. However, today, the carnival worker running a game took an unusually keen interest in you.

At first, it was amusing for Donghyuck; the way other guys were drawn to you sparked a playful gleam in his eyes. He'd lean in and whisper in your ear, "Just gonna sit back and watch him drool all over you. It's not like he can have you anyways, right? I love seeing people want what they can't have. Love that it's my pretty girl who's making all these guys fall down to their knees, but she'll only be on her knees for me."

As the attention grew, something shifted within Donghyuck. What began as a humorous observation evolved into a source of arousal for him. The possessive thrill of knowing others desired you, coupled with the knowledge that you were exclusively his, ignited a newfound intensity in his gaze. The amusement turned into a tantalizing game, and Donghyuck found himself relishing the role of the only one who could truly claim your affections

Amused by the worker's attempts to win you a stuffed animal, Donghyuck couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation and jealousy. The worker's laughter echoed around you as he persisted, seemingly blind to Donghyuck's mounting displeasure. Not one to be outdone, Donghyuck decided to shift the dynamics.

With each futile attempt by the worker, Donghyuck became increasingly touchy, his arms wrapping around your body and holding you close to him, showering you with kisses on your face and neck. His whispered words, filled with sweetness and possessiveness, were a comforting reassurance. "You're all mine," he murmured, creating an intimate bubble around you both. “Do you think he’s gotten the hint? He’s still looking at you like he wants to rip your clothes off but I’m the only one who can do that.”

Determined to stake his claim, Donghyuck shot a piercing glare at the oblivious worker, whispering a firm declaration of your relationship. The worker, finally realising he was no match for your connection, reluctantly stepped back, allowing you and Donghyuck to continue your carnival adventure hand in hand.

☆ jaemin

You and Jaemin are currently in what you would call a situationship. It’s not particularly healthy, the lack of labels is evident of the fact that neither of you are ready for full commitment. It’s a bit toxic but the sex is good and you guys do truly care about each other and you only want happiness together. He takes care of you and your emotions. You found each other after messy and bad break ups. Your ex, Hyunjin, really broke your heart and fucked you over and you was in a very dark place for a long time until Jaemin came along, he held your hand through every second, he was with you at your lowest

So you can imagine his reaction and his attitude towards seeing you and Hyunjin happily engaging in a conversation at a party the two of you attended together. You’re smiling and the two of you seem to get along and all he’s left with is confusion. Jaemin doesn’t completely get your decision to reconcile with Hyunjin, he’s trying to understand for you. You keep trying to convince him that staying far away from drama is the only thing you want and it’s best for everyone.

Truthfully he’s not having fun at this party, especially when he catches the two of you in the distance.

He sees him talking with you, you’re unusually quiet, there's two drinks in his hand and Jaemin feels a flip switch when he realises he’s about to hand the cup over to you. He knows his intentions aren’t good, it’s not that he doesn’t trust you, he just hates him and will never understand him.

Jaemin acts swiftly, purposefully striding over with his eyes cold and fixed on Hyunjin, sending a silent warning that succeeds in its intent. Holding the other cup awkwardly, he scans the surroundings with clear annoyance, observing his ex being touchy with another man right in front of him. Without hesitation, Jaemin wraps his arms around your back, and you instantly sigh, feeling the pressure drop from your shoulders as you sink into him. Jaemin understands you well; he knows you'd rather be anywhere else but with your ex, which is precisely why he's here. His actions are solely for you, recognizing that you're too gentle and unfortunately weak to break away from your ex and go elsewhere.

“Why are you smiling so much to him, hm? Should I show him how you smile when I’m touching you up and show him how you sound when you moan my name?” He whispers in your ear, tone heavy with jealousy

“I’ve been looking for you.” You mumble, dropping your hands over his, they lay around your waist and you gently trace his rings with your fingers and the soft touch awakens something inside of him.

"You look so pretty," "you're all mine," and "can't wait to take you home." While these words bring a smile to your face, they are intentionally loud enough for your ex to hear. Jaemin takes pride in the fact that you'll be in his bed tonight, savoring the awkward tension emanating from your ex as he stands there, looking around helplessly. The clear tension and discomfort only add to Jaemin's satisfaction.

Jaemin's lips gently trail along your neck, and you can feel the warmth of his smile against your skin, prompting a giggle from you. You lean your head against his shoulder, tilting it to grin at him before connecting your lips with his.

"I missed you, pretty boy. Where did you run off to?" You ask, your words sweetening the air. He just smiles, too captivated by you and the moment to respond immediately. Initially mad at the sight of you with your ex, jealousy fading away as he hears your sweet voice and looks into your soft eyes filled with nothing but genuine emotion.

Lost in the depth of your eyes, Jaemin realizes that this is what falling feels like. The world around fades, leaving only the two of you caught in a sweet, romantic embrace.

“Let’s go home, baby girl.”

☆ chenle

In the early weeks of your relationship with Chenle, things were still in the lowkey phase. You both hadn't encountered any significant hurdles, and it seemed like smooth sailing until today. While patiently waiting in line at a cozy coffee shop, a charismatic barista initiated playful banter with you, the charming exchange marked by subtle flirtation.

Chenle, who had yet to reveal his jealous side, witnessed the barista's antics with a hearty laugh as a heart-shaped design adorned the foam of your coffee. However, when he caught onto the increasingly flirtatious vibes and realized the barista was openly hitting on his girl, a flicker of possessiveness sparked within him.

Without missing a beat, Chenle wrapped his arms around your back, creating a protective shield, and locked eyes with the flustered barista until discomfort settled in. In a low, steady voice that betrayed a hint of anger, he whispered, "Does he know I'm willing to fight for my girl? My pretty girl, you're all mine, okay? I need everyone to see that. No one else has a chance."

As the barista retreated, Chenle's protective stance lingered, and the subtle tension in the air hinted at the newfound depths of his jealousy and the lengths he was willing to go to assert that you were undeniably his.

Chenle's unexpected display of jealousy and possessiveness revealed a new side of him, one you hadn't anticipated. The intensity in his eyes and the protective aura he exuded created a tantalizing allure that you hadn't noticed before. This newfound assertiveness didn't just catch you off guard; it stirred a desire within you, making your mouth water with an excitement you hadn't experienced in your relationship. The subtle thrill of discovering this hidden facet of Chenle added an electrifying edge to your connection, leaving you curious to explore this uncharted territory together.

☆ jisung

You and Jisung decided to embrace the thrill of a karaoke night, and as you stepped onto the stage, his enthusiastic cheers and claps echoed through the venue. Despite his slightly embarrassing antics, the warmth in your heart intensified with every encouraging gesture from your number one fan.

However, the mood shifted when the playlist took an unexpected turn into the realm of romantic duets. Another guy joined you on stage, and Jisung's expression turned sour. The confident singer's rendition felt more like a serenade directed at you, and Jisung, perceptive as ever, sensed the underlying intentions.

Feeling the discomfort, Jisung decided to take matters into his own hands. Seizing the opportunity, he boldly ascended the stage, surprising you. Wrapping his arms around your back, he started showering your neck with kisses, sharing the microphone for a duet that overshadowed the initial performance.

The overly touchy and romantic display not only made the other guy visibly uneasy but also transformed the situation into a comically passionate rendition of a love ballad. Your eyes locked with Jisung's, radiating love and adoration, turning a potentially awkward moment into an entertaining and memorable karaoke night.

As the duet concluded, Jisung delivered a playful remark, "You're my girl, okay? Only I can dedicate these types of songs to you." The shared laughter that followed eased any remaining tension, leaving you both with a lighthearted and unforgettable karaoke experience.

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delulujuls · 1 year ago

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snow scales | cregan stark

hi, here comes the big boy aka the wolf of the north. i know that cregan got like three minutes total on a screen but man, the amount of babies that i would give him

anyway, for sure i want to write probably two more parts of this so watch out!

summary: westeros is at the gates of war and to gain allies, king's landing sends one of its dragons to winterfell to marry the northern wolf and increase the chances of winning the war.

warnings: none (?) i believe

pairing: fem!targtower reader x cregan stark

Westeros stood on the brink of war and no one could prevent it.

Rhaenyra, occupying Dragonstone, was gathering armies and allies around her. Aegon was doing the same, though he was merely a pawn in the hands of those wiser than himself. Nevertheless, the Targaryen family was split in two: one side wore black, the other green. However, it seemed that the Dragon Family had not just split in two but shattered like a broken glass.

One of the dining halls in the Red Keep hosted a silent dinner. Since the king's death, meals had passed in silence. At the head of the table, where Viserys once sat, now sat Aegon. Next to him was his mother, then the Hand of the King. On the new king’s left sat Aemond, followed by their two younger sisters. No one exchanged even a glance.

After dinner, everyone left the table and went their separate ways, but Alicent stopped her older daughter, asking her to have a word. The girl nodded and they went to the mother's chambers.

"Has something happened?" the young princess asked once they were alone. The woman quickly reached for a jug of wine and filled her goblet, taking several large sips. The alcohol, however, did not ease the knot in her throat. Alicent clutched the goblet in her hand and sat down, looking at her daughter. She stared at her for a few moments in silence, as if trying to memorize as many details of her as possible. If she could, she would have imprinted her image on her mind.

"Mother—" "You will go north," Alicent interrupted her, declaring it like a crossbow bolt. She knew this revelation would not be easy for her. Accepting the news would be equally difficult for her daughter.

"What?" the girl frowned. "Me? To the North?"

The woman nodded and sighed, wanting to gather some courage and convince herself that what she was doing was right.

"You know well that war is coming, and even if we wanted to, it is inevitable," she returned her gaze to her daughter’s face, who was looking at her with a slight frown between her brows. "We need allies, and the most are in the North. We must forge an alliance with them."

"Why are you entrusting me with such task?" she asked, shaking her head. "I understand you won't send Aegon, but Aemond? Ser Criston?"

Alicent tightened her grip on the goblet, and if it had been made of a weaker material, it would have shattered in her hand by now.

"Only you can bring the North closer to us."

The young princess frowned even more and shook her head. She didn’t understand any of this.

"Am I to go there alone?" she looked back at her mother, who only nodded. "How long am I to be there?"

"You will marry Cregan Stark," she announced, placing the goblet on her lap. "There is no stronger alliance than marriage. Rhaenyra can do nothing about it."

The girl scoffed in disbelief and took a few steps back.

"This is absurd, utter madness," she believed her mother was joking, but the woman's face still had the same expression. "But you promised me to Aegon!"

"Aegon broke off the engagement," she said, looking at her daughter's face. "He knows it is necessary."

The young princess laughed bitterly, and tears, hot as molten steel, streamed down her cheeks.

"The North will not stand with a usurper, you know that very well!"

"Lord Stark is extremely pleased with the prospect of marrying a Targaryen and eagerly awaits you," she said almost mechanically. She had been repeating this sentence nonstop for days, as if trying to convince herself that what is she doing was right. However, she couldn’t bear to look at her daughter's tear-streaked, bitter face.

"You're a monster," she sobbed, turning and grabbing the door handle.

"We all must sacrifice for the greater good," she said, but her daughter no longer heard her.

The shaken princess hurriedly left the castle, heading to the Dragonpit. She sobbed bitterly, tears streaming down her cheeks. When she heard Vermithor, she quickened her pace, running. When she saw the dragon, her heart momentarily lifted. It broke, however, when she saw the massive collar around the beast’s neck and the heavy chain that bound it. She cried out, reaching out and touching the dragon’s snout.

"What have they done to you?"

The bronze giant looked weakened, likely given a massive dose of something to sedate him during the collaring. The young princess couldn’t believe what her own family was capable of.

"There, it's alright," she ran her hands over his snout, though she herself was shattered into pieces. Sadness, grief, and despair mixed with fury. She walked around the dragon and stood before the collar clasp, grabbing the chain and pulling with all her strength. But even with that, it didn’t budge.

The girl screamed in anger, her scream not sounding like that of a teenager. It sounded like the roar of an enraged dragon, yet even the beast’s roar couldn’t break the brass chains.

"I’m so sorry," the girl sobbed, helplessly kneeling by the beast’s snout and hugging it with all her might. "I’m sorry."

The young princess did not return to the castle. She spent the night in the Dragonpit, nestled against the side of her dragon. She cried until sleep overcame her. Vermithor covered her with his wing.

The next morning, when the Dragonkeepers were ordered to bring the princess, the dragon roared fiercely, not allowing them to approach. The girl woke immediately.

"Princess," one of the men spoke, standing at a distance the dragon permitted. "The queen summons you to the castle."

"She is not the queen," the princess muttered, sniffing. She stood and wiped her face with her hands. She felt tears welling up under her eyelids again. Vermithor sensed her emotions and abandoned his aggressive stance, laying his snout flat on the ground. The girl smiled sadly and hugged the dragon one last time.

"Geros ilas, uēpa raqiros," she said, raising her head and looking at the bronze giant. She tenderly stroked his scales. Bitter tears once again wetted her cheeks, but she wiped them away with a clenched fist. "Nyke jāhor māzigon arlī skori issa jēda māzigon, se hēnkirī īlon jāhor zālagon ry lī qilōni gōntan bisa naejot īlva." (Farewell, old friend. I will return when my time comes, and together we will burn all those who did this to us.)

She walked away, not looking back. She heard the dragon's roar and cry, the clanking of chains, and the flapping of wings. But she left the Dragonpit alone.

At the castle gates, two carriages and about four dozen knights waited, all on horses and in shining armor. Alicent waited by one carriage, accompanied by the Hand of the King. Ser Criston also looked like he was being sent on a journey, probably to make sure than the princess will not run away. However, neither Aegon, Aemond, nor Helaena were among the crowd. The girl felt like spitting in her mother’s and the Hand’s faces. She could only guess that her siblings knew nothing about this. No one could convince her that Aegon had agreed to break the engagement. He might be foolish and reckless, but he loved his sister sincerely. And Helaena? She would never have let her go.

Alicent wanted to say something, reached out to her daughter, but the girl didn’t even look at her. She got into the carriage and slammed the door. She would return and burn them all.

For several days, until the first stop, the young princess didn’t say a word to anyone. She didn’t eat or drink much, which did not go unnoticed by several of her maids who had been sent with her. Fearing the princess planned to starve herself to death, they tried to persuade her to eat at least small amounts. Sometimes they succeeded, sometimes not.

As a result, the girl lost a lot of weight during the journey. Her dresses became too large, her eyes sunken, and her hair, once like glowing gold, now resembled spider silk. The princess stopped spending the journey in tears only when the entourage passed Harrenhal. She remained silent, and the feasts thrown by the lords to host her were always the first she left, apologizing and explaining a headache. No one blamed her.

As the entourage moved further, the days grew shorter and the nights colder. Winterfell was near, but the approaching winter was even nearer.

The Targaryen princess reached the northern capital after over two moons.

At the maid's suggestion, the girl donned a thick fur coat, and as soon as she stepped outside her carriage, she was greeted by piercing cold. She had seen snow on the journey, but there was much more of it here, and it still fell from the sky. Lead-colored clouds hung low, and snowflakes swirled in the wind, falling onto the icy ground. They also fell on her snow-like hair, which the frosty wind blew, kissing her cheeks in greeting.

Cregan Stark, the young lord of Winterfell and her future husband, also came to greet her.

The young man was the textbook definition of a Northerner. He was only a little older than her, but his sharp features made him appear more mature than he actually was. The Wolf of the North was over a head taller than her, with broad shoulders and a well-built physique, now covered under a thick fur. The wind tousled his shoulder-length brown hair, and his toughened skin was impervious to the cold. Not like the girl’s cheeks, now rosy as petals of a fresh bloomed flower.

"Princess," he spoke, his voice deep and marked by an accent. "I welcome you to Winterfell."

"My Lord," she forced a smile, though she knew it must have looked more like a grimace. The Dragon Princess was aware that she would have to endure many more forced smiles and artificial courtesies.

The Wolf of the North, however, did not require any courtesy from her. He knew why the girl had been sent to him and what was expected of her; he had even heard rumors of a broken engagement. He decided not to pressure her and let her get used to the new place, to the North. After all, a Dragon had ended up among a pack of Wolves.

The wedding did not wait for the girl to get accustomed to Winterfell; it took place just a few days after her arrival at the Stark stronghold. The Dragon Princess had exchanged only a few formal sentences with the Lord of the North before she had to call him husband. The Godswood, where the wedding was held, had seen many a forced marriage. The girl had even come to terms with the bedding, but the Young Wolf announced that it would not take place.

"Perhaps one day a spark of affection will ignite within you, and you will come to my arms of your own accord," he said when he saw the questioning look on her face.

The night after the wedding, the marriage was spent apart. Every subsequent night was as well.

Days passed, and the young princess gradually came to terms with her new reality. She knew this was her life now, that she was the wife of the Wolf of the North and the Lady of Winterfell. The choice she had been forced into might not have pleased her, but it did not mean it was a bad one.

After some time, the girl began to spend more time outside her chambers. She abandoned reading and took up sewing, helping the servants mend linens and clothes. She insisted on mending her husband's clothes herself, asking that no one else do it for her. Although it was not her duty, every morning and evening she fed the animals. The young princess missed her dragon dearly, but she found joy in spending time with horses, feeding chickens, or petting rabbits.

One of the servants once ran terrified to inform Cregan that the princess was endangering herself with the direwolves. The Lord, worried, quickly went with her to the scene, only to find there was no reason for concern. The girl sat motionless on the ground, allowing the animals to sniff her. Two wolves wagged their tails, and one even lay down beside her. Cregan's heart swelled at the sight, not because of her interaction with the animals but because, for the first time, he saw a smile on her face. He could have sworn it was genuine.

The marriage, however, still did not see them spending much time together, nor talking much. This did not mean the Young Wolf was not interested in his wife; quite the opposite. Both morning and evening, he would ask the servants how the girl was doing. After some time, the young princess began to do the same.

"What is he like?" she asked one day, while she and two Winterfell servants were mending clothes. Though she did not ask directly, the women knew she meant Lord Stark. They exchanged glances and only smiled. Did her question mean that the Dragon Princess was beginning to warm to the Wolf Lord?

"He has a very big heart, my lady," one admitted. "At first glance, he may seem intimidating, but he is a gentle giant. Lord Stark is very kind."

The girl lowered her gaze, focusing on her work. She smiled slightly.

"I think he is a good man too," she admitted.

"That does not mean he can be trifled with," added the other. "He is kind when someone gives him the same. But he is a wolf, my lady. He can bite if provoked."

Indeed, Cregan appeared to be a man of steel nerves who could turn that steel into a sword, with which he could take a life without a second thought.

When the princess had finished her duties, she dressed and went outside to spend some time in the stables. In the courtyard, a few men were preparing for a journey, saddling horses. Among them was her husband.

"My lady," he smiled at the sight of her. Each of the men bowed slightly.

"Are you going somewhere, my lord?" she asked, stroking his horse’s muzzle.

"Hunting," he announced, fastening a crossbow to the saddle. "I will return before nightfall."

"Could I accompany you?" she asked without much thought. The young man's lips twitched upward. The unexpected proposal pleased him.

"You would do me a great honor, my lady."

And so the Wolf and the Dragon set off together, side by side. They rode at the front, accompanied by four men. No one questioned the princess's participation.

When they reached the depths of the forest, they tied the horses to a tree and continued on foot. At a certain point, they all split up, but the Wolf and the Dragon stayed together. They were silent, but it was not an awkward silence. Their mutual company was enough.

"Look," he leaned toward her, whispering. "There, between the trees. Beyond the fallen trunk."

The girl quickly found the point he indicated and smiled at the sight of a deer. The stag was large, and its antlers were even larger. It calmly stripped moss from the fallen tree.

Cregan silently removed the crossbow from his shoulder. The girl felt a pang in her heart. Of course, she thought. They hadn’t come for a stroll.

The Young Wolf noticed her troubled expression. He knew what saddened her.

"I never let them suffer longer than necessary," he assured. The girl quickly nodded, causing a tear to roll down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away with her hand.

Cregan drew the arrow and raised the crossbow, aiming at the deer. A moment of silence, a whoosh of air, and a dull thud. The stag fell to the ground. The young man glanced at his wife's face one last time and moved ahead. When they reached the deer, it was already dead. Blood flowed from its mouth, and the once-living body was now motionless. Cregan approached to retrieve the arrow, but the girl beat him to it. She knelt by the dead animal and gently ran her hand along its neck, stroking it soft, golden fur. For a moment, she gazed at the deer, absorbing its beauty. Tears welled up in her eyes again, so she quickly grabbed the arrow, pulled it out, and stood up, handing it to her husband. Cregan took it in silence.

Although neither of them spoke for the rest of the hunt, an understanding formed between them, a sort of alliance. The culture and customs of the North were so wild and distant for someone from the South. The young princess, however, knew that Winterfell was her home now. And if it was her home, she had to learn its customs. Even if they were far from her own beliefs.

That evening, despite the darkness, the Wolf Lord could have sworn that the scales of the Southern Dragon glistened with a snowy sheen.

A few days after the first closer interaction between the young marriage, Cregan decided he would like to spend some time with the girl again. He knocked on her chamber door, and when she let him in, he entered. The girl was sitting by the fireplace, stuffing pillows with feathers, but she smiled at the sight of her husband.

"My lady," he nodded to her, lightly returning her smile.

"My lord," she replied, reaching for a needle and beginning to sew the pillow. "Something brings you here?" she asked after a moment when he silently observed her deftly working fingers.

"I would like to introduce someone to you," he replied, causing the girl to frown slightly in surprise.

"Do we have guests?"

The young man nodded and reached for her fur. Seeing his gesture encouraging her to stop working, she set her task aside and stood up. She walked over to him and turned, allowing him to help her dress. Shortly afterward, they went outside.

"Who are these guests? Did we know they were coming?" she asked, glancing at her husband.

"We expected them, but we didn't know when they would arrive," he explained.

They passed the courtyard, which was empty. There was no sign that Winterfell had visitors. The girl remained silent until they entered one of the sheds. This particular one housed the direwolves. She was about to ask what this was all about when she heard squeaks and whimpers. As she connected the dots, the frown disappeared from her brow, and her violet eyes lit up.

"No way, it can't be."

Cregan smiled and gestured for her to come closer. Around the corner, on a bed of straw, lay a she-wolf. Four pups were latched onto her teats, and one of them, with nearly golden fur, was sleeping a bit further away.

The young princess was genuinely moved by the sight. Cregan smiled as well, not just because of the litter but because of his wife's joy.

"They were born this morning," he announced. "Four females and a male."

The male turned out to be the pup lying away from the pack. He was bigger than the rest and had a bronze coat, a color familiar to the girl. When the little wolf woke up and stretched, Cregan approached and petted the she-wolf's head, silently praising her for a job well done. He picked up the pup that was away from the mother and held him in his arms, then handed him to the girl. The young princess cradled him, stroking him gently.

"So you've returned to me as a direwolf," she said softly, more to herself than to her husband.

Cregan looked at his wife questioningly. The young princess felt his gaze on her.

"My dragon has a very similar color," she explained, scratching the wolf pup behind the ear. "They call him the Bronze Fury, all because of the color of his scales."

"In the skies, is he truly a fury?" he asked, watching her interaction with the pup.

The girl laughed softly and shook her head. "Maybe once, when my great-grandfather rode him. Now he's an old beast. Sometimes I felt he preferred a nap over a ride with me."

Cregan smiled at her words. He noticed that she found joy in animals, especially direwolves and dragons. While he couldn't provide the latter, he was glad he could bring her happiness with the pups.

"He's yours now," he declared when she kissed the pup between the ears. "The Targaryens have dragons, the Starks have direwolves. It's time for you to have your own."

The girl looked again at the pup she was holding and smiled even more. Her heart swelled with emotion.

"Thank you," she said, looking at her husband. Cregan returned her smile.

"What will you name him?"

"Vermithor," she said without hesitation. "I feel he's a dragon in a direwolf's body."

To the servants' concern, they spent several hours in the shed, out of sight of everyone. They sat on the straw among the pups, talking about dragons, direwolves, flights in the clouds, and hunts in the forests. For the first time since they met and got married, they had the chance to learn something about each other.

"I've never seen a dragon," Cregan admitted. His sword lay by his straightened legs, and he leaned his back against the rough wall.

"I wish you to never have to," the girl replied. Her legs were crossed, and in them, like in a nest, slept little Vermithor. "Dragons never bode well."

"But still, they obey you," he looked at her. "How do you manage that?"

"You can't control them completely; they are still wild beasts," she noted. "But the Targaryens have managed to do so to some extent for thousands of years, back when the home of dragons was Valyria."

"Dragons respond only to the old language, right?" The young princess nodded in confirmation. "Just as I've never seen a dragon, I've never encountered that language."

"Zyr sindighy iderēbion, kes as qogralbar," she said, and the Young Wolf smiled. "Se valzi rijinyso sizi vys̄oron" (It is a very rough language, in my opinion. And also not the easiest to learn)

"If I were a dragon and heard something like that, I wouldn't hesitate to follow orders," he replied, making her laugh. Cregan also smiled sincerely. He never thought he'd hear the language of Old Valyria, but even more, he didn't expect to hear such sincere laughter of the Dragon Princess.

Winter began to settle more and more into Winterfell, but the biting cold was defied by the spark of affection that blossomed between the Wolf and the Dragon.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd one shot #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you

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padfootagain · 1 year ago

Text

Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Pairing : Hozier x fem!reader

Professor! AU

Warnings: hurt-comfort, angst, fluff, no smut but suggestive scenes so 18+ only

Chapter 1 : 'And that orange, it made me so happy, as ordinary things often do just lately'

Chapter 2 : 'Through me the way to the City of Woe'

Chapter 3 : ‘I miss him in the wheeping of the rain; I want him at the shrinking of the tide’

Chapter 4 : ‘For he gave all his heart and lost’

Chapter 5 : ‘But here comes the lyrebird passing through the sky’

Chapter 6 : ‘I’ll lie here and learn how, over their ground, trees make a long shadow and a light sound’

Chapter 7 : 'And so I still wait, like a lonely house, for you to see me and inhabit me again. Until that time, my windows ache.'

Chapter 8 : 'I hope she never learns how to peel oranges'

Chapter 9 : 'I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river-- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues'

Chapter 10 : '[I] was angry that my trust could not repose in the clear light, like poetry or freedom leaning in from sea'

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Chapter 12 : 'Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again'

Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’

Chapter 14: ‘Why should I blame her that she filled my days with misery’

Chapter 15: ‘He’s bored- I see it. Don’t I lick his bribes, set his bouquets in water?’

Chapter 16 : ‘Only the things I didn’t do crackle after the blazing dies’

Chapter 17 : ‘Dear pine cone, let me hold you as you open’

Chapter 18 : ‘What the devil do I care what I know, and what I say?’

Chapter 19: ‘I knew winter cold like the nuzzle of fjords at my thighs’

Chapter 20 : 'My heart has made its mind up and I’m afraid it’s you'

Chapter 21: ‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love’

Chapter 22 : ‘And if you missed a day, there was always the next, and if you missed a year, it didn’t matter, the hills weren’t going anywhere’

Chapter 23 : 'Even the dearest that I loved the best are strange – nay, rather, stranger than the rest'

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Chapter 25: ‘They will think of ways to make you smile so you can be happy for a while’

Chapter 26: ‘Well, how else are you to live except by denial’

Chapter 27: ‘They loved music and swam in for a singer, who might stand at the end of summer’

Chapter 28: ‘You are neither here nor there, a hurry through which known and strange things pass as big soft buffetings come at the car sideways and catch the heart off guard and blow it open’

Chapter 29: ‘My lover’s words were shooting stars which fell to earth as kisses on these lips’

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Chapter 31 : ‘Six billion tons sounds impossible until I consider how it is to swallow grief’

Chapter 32 : ‘How dense it is, how it carries inside it the memory of collapse. How difficult it is to move then’

Chapter 33 : ‘The scent already in the air’

Chapter 34 : ‘One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.’

Chapter 35 : ‘Love comes quietly, finally’

Chapter 36: ‘So I imagine such love of the world—its fervency, its shining, its innocence and hunger to give of itself—I imagine this is how it began’

Chapter 37 : ‘I found the other half above the pillow where you lay’

Chapter 38: ‘They are elsewhere beyond the night way higher than day in the blinding brightness of their first love’

Chapter 39: ‘He grew so tender and I so grateful which maybe tells you something about how it was’

Chapter 40 : ‘Where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.’

Chapter 41 : ‘Just one candle burning on, shadows lurking everywhere: some one came, and kissed me there’

Chapter 42: ‘Love in such a way, as I… love… you.’

Chapter 43: ‘The whole world depends on your pure eyes and all my blood flows into their gaze’

Chapter 44 : ‘I go up to the stone wall for a friendly visit.’

Chapter 45 : ‘Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone.’

Chapter 46 : ‘Both of us, of the love which makes us one.’

Chapter 47: ‘To whom I owe the leaping delight that quickens my senses in our wakingtime and the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime’

Chapter 48 : ‘It’s love almost too fierce to endure, the bee nuzzling like that into the blouse of the rose’

Chapter 49 : ‘I am the blossom pressed in a book, found again after two hundred years’

Chapter 50 : ‘And I’d wonder sometimes if I’d ever find you.’

Chapter 51 : ‘Here begins a new life’

Chapter 52 : ‘I love you. I’m glad I exist.’

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #the hoziest #hozier fanfiction #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier series #hozier fic #hozier masterlist #masterlist #writing #fanfiction #fanfic

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blacktabbygames · 7 months ago

Note

Cant remember if you answered this already but do you guys have any personal favorite video games in 2024?

We've finished surprisingly few games this year, and I don't love weighing in on games I haven't finished, but here's some favorites we played (not all of them came out this year though!):

The demo for Perfect Tides Station to Station - I was lucky enough to get a sneak peak of the full first season in the sequel. The first Perfect Tides is one of my favorite interactive narratives of all time it really says something that the sequel so far blows the first game out of the water. Aspirationally good. Criminally underrated. League of its own. Thronefall - Great mix of tower defense hack and slash, and resource management.

South Scrimshaw, Part One - Phenomenal and imaginative visual novel styled as a documentary about the life cycle of a whale species on an alien planet.

1000xResist - Wildly complicated narrative that beautifully weaves together an astounding number of themes. What does it mean to yearn for a place that no longer exists? I would recommend going into it blind.

In Stars and Time - We're bad friends and didn't have the chance to finish it until this year. Really thoughtful time loop narrative. Made us cry.

Nine Sols - I'm breaking my "I haven't finished it" rule because I really like what I've played so far. It's also pretty hard so not something I want to pick up when I get tired. Brilliant metroidvania by Red Candle Games, who are one of our favorite developers. Quite a different direction than their previous titles though (Devotion and Detention.)

Thank Goodness You're Here - really funny slapstick adventure :)

Path of Exile 2 - Finally an ARPG with challenging gameplay that's deeper than spamming 4 buttons really fast.

Alan Wake II Welcome to Nightsprings DLC - SO clever and creative. Really loved the text-based adventure in the last one.

On my ever growing backlog: Animal Well, Lorelei and the Laser Eyes (I've heard people have needed physical notebooks for this one though so it might not be my speed), finish Indika, which is so stylish, finish Rise of the Golden Idol (loved the first game!) We've done so many things this year — Pristine Cut, move into a new place, get married, etc, so I've been too tired to engage with a lot of more difficult games.

#slay the princess #perfect tides #1000xresist #thank goodness you're here #nine sols #in stars and time #isat #alan wake

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amongemeraldclouds · 1 year ago

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starry eyed

Tom Riddle never meant to feel affection. That warm, sickly feeling felt like indigestion and heartburn. An inconvenience. But Salazar, you had never been on a date. It was an injustice he needed to make right.

Tom Riddle x f!Reader | Based on this request | Fluff

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party | 1.9k words

It was just supposed to be another project. Tom Riddle expected you to just be another schoolmate who would let him do most of the work so he could have things exactly as he wanted. He never minded the work; enjoyed it, even. But he did mind having another student’s grimy fingers all over his carefully planned and skillfully executed projects. Just the thought of it made him want to cast crucio on whoever owned those grimy fingers.

Yet you managed to squeeze your way through his neatly arranged schedule. A row of clean lines and routines that made room for your squiggles and smiles. Literally. You had penciled yourself in his timetable “library with y/n for Astronomy project :)”. At least you had capitalized the A in Astronomy as all subjects should be.

That was how he first found himself walking towards you at the library. People respected him, was even intimidated by him. But you smiled up at him like you had been friends forever and he nearly doubted for a second if he was supposed to be there. He figured you were either naive, a lamb prancing into the lion’s den, or simply unbothered.

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, placing his books across you in the library.

“Hi Tom,” you beamed, ignoring his question. “I’m doing great. Thanks. For a smart person, that sure is a silly question.”

He clenched his jaw and so you soldiered on. “We were paired together for the project so I thought we’d meet tonight to discuss. You may not be used to it Mr. Perfect, but I always help out with all my projects so like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

“Fine,” he breathed out quickly. “Just try to keep up,” he said curtly as he opened his books to discuss.

“Maybe you’re the one who has to keep up with me,” you said, unfazed.

But he ignored you and launched straight into the project details and his plans. Your eyes widened and you grabbed your notebook and pen. Tom’s mouth twitched and you imagined it was his version of a smile. He really was going to make it difficult for you, but you were up for the challenge.

You may have also had a crush on him, but that definitely had nothing to do with the way your heart was pounding in your chest. School could also be intense and exciting. Ha.

By the third written sentence, you managed to catch up and gather all the details he had in mind for the project. You asked questions about the plan and Tom was surprised you mentioned a minor detail he had not previously considered. It irritated him, but you had also managed to earn his respect.

The discussion had been a lot more engaging than he thought. Though it probably didn’t say much considering his expectations had been so low, it had melted with the lava down the centre of the Earth.

You tapped on the table lightly. “Now that we’ve accomplished a lot, it’s time for snacks!”

Tom blinked, not sure if he heard you right. “What are we to do with snacks?”

You blinked back. “To eat. So we can take a break from all the studying?”

“I don’t do breaks. My focus levels are perfectly fine,” he stated.

“This is why you’re so grumpy all the time! You don’t eat snacks or take breaks,” you slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Ah yes you have cracked the mystery. You now know everything about me,” he replied sarcastically and you snorted. If you hadn’t felt so tired, you may have spent some energy being embarrassed for your un-lady like behaviour in front of your crush. But you had your priorities straight.

“Try these biscuits I baked and I promise you will know all about joy and the wonders of the universe,” you offered.

“So it’s spiked?”

You looked horrified. “I’ll have you know my baking is magical all on its own.”

“It’s bad enough that I have to work on this project with you. If I go on this break with you, will you leave me alone to complete this project?”

“Maybe,” you said, scooping up your belongings and rushing out the library before he could change his mind. You inwardly cheered when he followed you.

Tom didn’t take any of your words seriously, but when he bit into the biscuit, the buttery goodness that melted in his mouth made him feel like he was coming home to a place he never knew he belonged to. Not that he would ever tell you.

“What’s your favourite astrological event?” He asked as he savoured the biscuit.

“I love meteor showers, though I’ve never seen one before. Imagine seeing a cluster of stars raining down the sky,” you said, after a moment’s pause.

“Don’t have to imagine, I’ve seen it before,” he said unimpressed.

Your eyes widened in fascination. “What did you wish for?”

He looked affronted. “I don’t do wishes, I make things happen.”

You slapped your thigh and his eyes followed your movement, making you blush. “How could you not make a wish? It’s like having a magic lamp and using it as a teapot. Where’s the wonder and romance?”

“Magic is a science, it’s why we’re here,” he insisted.

“We’re here for biscuits,” you declared instead and shoved another into your mouth. He inwardly smiled. Sure, if anything were to be magical the way you saw it, he supposed it could be those heavenly biscuits.

He was sure that was the last time he’d meet you outside of class. But the very next day, he found your squiggly handwriting on his timetable again. “Library with y/n for Astronomy project + snack break :)” He sighed, but he secretly looked forward to the buttery biscuits.

You made good progress on the project as the days passed. Tom continued to be surprised by your helpful contributions. Sure they were unconventional and your process was far too scattered for his liking, but you came up with creative ideas and were equally as committed as he was to the project.

Tom suggested extra research for some information he wanted to include and you managed to read all the chapters he wrote down. All for the love of education. You were certainly not a girl trying to impress your crush. Nope.

The snack breaks were also not as miserable as Tom thought they would be. You got to know each other better and there was something strangely fascinating about you. Then there were those life-changing biscuits.

He sometimes found himself craving those buttery goods during his long hours of studying. The problem was that he could not get them anywhere else except from you. It didn’t help that you were nearly done with your project and would soon have no reason to see each other. That diabolical woman, he thought.

Something else stayed with him. On one of your snack breaks, you finally built up the courage to ask Tom about his dating life. He managed to deflect and turn the question around to you, but you didn’t mind. Hopefully you sharing would one day help him open up to you.

“What was the last date you’ve been on?” He asked and you watched in slow motion when he licked the corner of his lip to catch a stray crumb. You had to dig your nails into your palm to stop yourself from squealing.

Then you thought hard about his question. “What qualifies as a date?” You asked cautiously.

“Someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.”

“Well,” you turned it over in your head, “then I guess I’ve never been on a date before.” You quickly added, “I have had boyfriends before, we just did things they liked and anyway, it’s no big deal.”

It had been days, but he still seethed at the memory. He was not one for romance, but even he felt indignant that all that sunshine and sweetness was wasted on boys who didn’t know what they had. That evening, he added you to his timetable himself. He was going to set things right.

“Are you sure you’re not here to m*rder me and take full credit for our brilliant project?” You asked as you followed Tom Riddle deeper into the woods. You hugged your coat tightly as the evening chill swept around you. The crickets chirped and twigs snapped below your feet.

“Do you think I’d announce it if I was? Besides, there’s no one around so you’ll just have to trust me,” he replied.

“I thought we were becoming friends,” you remarked.

“Never assume things,” he said matter of fact.

You gripped your wand tightly and walked on. He was right. You followed a boy into the woods at night because you had a crush on him. You cursed inwardly and vowed to make better decisions in your next life.

We’re here!” he announced. There was a clearing ahead and before you could ask what it was, he pointed to the sky. “Should be about now,” he commented. The next moment, you watched as stars glittered and rained down the sky. It was a meteor shower. Your eyes brightened, reflecting the glowing lights that dove through the sky.

“You said you’ve never seen one before and it just so happens there’s one tonight and this is the perfect spot,” he explained before you could even ask. He then asked you to make a wish.

“Only if you make a wish with me,” you said, looping your arm around him. You figured it was the closest he’d allow a hug. Surprisingly, he stayed beside you, letting you lean into him.

“Isn’t it enough to just watch this with you? You like it, don’t you?”

The pieces clicked in your head. “You said and I quote ‘a date was when someone who likes you takes you out, preferably somewhere you like, and you spend quality time together.’ Mr. Tom Riddle, is this your way of telling me you like me? Is this,” you motioned at the stars and around you, “a date?”

“What did I tell you about assuming things?” He deflected and pointed at the stars again. “They won’t fall forever, you know. Are you going to use this magical lamp as your teapot?”

Perhaps it was the shooting stars or the cold evening air, or being alone with the boy you liked in the dark forest, that made you bold.

“What if you’re the only one who can grant my wish?” You gave him your brightest smile and Tom could read all the words you’d never speak aloud in your eyes. He shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips and he brought them down to yours.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and you wrapped your arms around him, letting your body melt against him. He pulled you in closer, his arms strong and confident as if you belonged to him. He placed tender kisses down your jaw, moving slowly to your neck, and as you gazed up, you watched the last of the stars fall down the sky.

The cold bit down your skin as Tom stepped back and you immediately missed his warmth. “You like me!” You beamed.

“How are you so sure I’m not just after the biscuits?”

You wrapped your arms around him, enjoying the warmth again. “I’ll bake you all the biscuits you want. Doesn’t change the fact that you also like me, which works perfectly because I like you too. You’re never getting rid of me now.”

Tom returned the hug. Not that he wanted to get rid of you anyway.

✿ Masterlist | Event Masterlist | Tea Party

A/N: Tom secretly liking biscuits is so adorable. A subtle nod to our tea party!

#blurb-berry cupcake #emerald’s tea party #amongemeraldclouds follower celebration #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle #slytherin boys #amongemeraldcloudswrites #amongemeraldclouds fluff

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bratreligion · 2 months ago

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LOOK WHAT YOU DID FEATURING CONNIE SPRINGER | CHAPTER TWO

"it's all about you, whatever i do. i could be a player but it's not my truth."

SYNOPSIS a spontaneous night out leads to a mix of emotions and new relations.

CHAPTER ONE hiiii chapter two is HERE! i tried to do my best to get my plan as clear and constructed as i could this time. okay so this has a 6k wc, mentions of drinking and smoking, and the word lust.

“so, [♡], do you have somebody?” a tone woven with genuine innocence let the words flow in a way that wouldn’t annoy you, differing heavily from the sensual curiosity of the men who usually asked. stroking your left thumb over the soft wooden material of a makeup brush, a heavy weight rested with the faint beating in your chest, the air growing thicker as you took a hesitant breath. pondering, you mindlessly blended the coral-toned blush into the apple of your client sasha’s rosy cheeks, the soft bristles aligning with the sheer freckles that adorned her face. it wasn’t a difficult question to answer because you had no one special in your life, and that story didn’t require much. the hard part was knowing that had been your answer for three years now, as if cupid had shot you with an anti-love arrow. “i know you’ve got a few people blowing up your line.”

you panted, shyly shrugging as you shook your head. “nah, nobody’s on my line these days.” sasha scoffed as her golden eyes bunched up, looking at you in disbelief.

“i don’t believe that. you must be tellin’ them all no.” sasha giggled, the natural tint of her cheeks intensifying the color of the blush you had applied.

you let out a low mutter of amusement as you lightly patted loose powder into her dewy skin, eyeing your work carefully. “something like that… maybe it just isn’t my time.”

in all honesty, it had long been your time. throughout your life, dating was never something you purposely engaged in. most of the time, love found its way to you. the last time you had been in a relationship was three years ago, the last time you truly cared about someone. your relationship was the kind of fairy tale that most people only fantasized about at your age. it was passionate–the kind of relationship that made you feel like a dumb teenager, head over heels, experiencing a summer fling for the first time. every morning, you’d wake up with your cheeks as high as your brows, exhilarated as if the sun shone brighter each day you were with him. picnics in the park with home-cooked meals, joint wash days, spontaneous road trips in the middle of the night, and handpicked flowers at your door every two weeks.

there was never a dull moment with him, whether you were coming home to his tattooed arms providing you with a warm embrace, or if he was wiping salty tears from your puffy cheeks after a long day of working. it was sensual, some of the deepest intimacy you had ever experienced in your life, and that wasn’t even including the mind-blowing sex that got your body pressed into the bed anytime you wanted. sometimes, you couldn’t even think about how bittersweet that part of your life was. you were long over him, but, truthfully, some nights you got lonely and thought about why it was over.

the love didn’t stop coming out of the blue or on one random tuesday; he was never that kind of man, so you never woke up and wondered if he would stop loving you. he never cheated. you trusted him enough, so you knew that. and you weren’t tired of each other. it was simply a matter of life taking its course on two people who loved each other, putting things like school, careers, and work in the way of providing time for one another. football had been his passion for most of his life, and the moment he felt like he could be something, once he felt the way the bright overhead lights shone upon him as a kid, he knew he wanted to go pro. he was nothing like the others in his age group, who were mere stars in the making. he was already a star. he knew it, you knew it, the football scouts knew it, and everyone knew it. but with everyone knowing that fact came the more time his talent demanded from him, unfortunately leaving your relationship at the bottom of his list of priorities.

you never blamed him for chasing his dreams, as you were doing the same thing, attending the best cosmetology school in the state and getting your license to one day open your own salon. things happened, and people changed. it had been around a year since you’d heard from him, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him, aside from when he was on live television, praised for leading his team to another victory. you were proud to see him achieve what he had worked so hard for during your relationship. still, you were hurt that you had to part from the man you hoped to marry and grow old with. breakups hurt.

a thick lump had formed in the back of your throat, shy of your tongue. you swallowed, taking a deep breath, and batting your lashes a few times to rid yourself of the tears that had crept amidst your reminiscing. pushing aside old feelings, you focused intently on sasha as you spewed setting spray onto the canvas of her face. you hadn’t heard a word of what she was blabbing about, doing the best you could to smile and look as if you had an understanding of her words. “mhm.” you mumbled.

“and these men are getting worse and worse by the generation, i mean, since when is a simple date too much–oh my god,” she gasped, her jaw falling slack mid-sentence as she finally realized you had spun the chair around for her to look in the mirror. while lost in a daydream, ‘listening’ to her endless chatter, you had completed her makeup without even noticing the amount of time that had passed. sasha’s cherry red acrylics hovered over her cheeks as her once fiery expression softened into admiration, the gentle flecks of gold in her eyes sparking under the vanity lights. the glitter in the gloss on her lips danced as her mouth formed an oval shape as she tilted forward, her lips quirked up. “you’re amazing, do you know that?”

giggling, you couldn’t help but grin as you shifted on one foot. “thanks, sash. i’m glad you like it.”

“like it?” she gasped, moving her false lashes up and down in the mirror before turning around dramatically. “i love it. no wonder you’re so high in demand.”

you coyly bit back your smile as you gathered the products you had used on her face, neatly tucking each into its designated slot in your suitcase kit. sasha rummaged through her purse like a mad woman for a few seconds until she pulled out a stout wad of cash neatly bound by a hot pink rubber band. as always, you pretended not to see the payment out of the corner of your eye until she set it on the table next to you, her elated mood stamped on her face. you didn’t bother counting the cash before tucking it in your wallet; sasha always had your money and a more than generous tip, you weren’t worried about that. instead, you examined the two white slips of stock paper tucked under the rubber band. curiously, you adjusted your eyes until you could read the tiny, gold-printed letters on the cards.

ENTRANCE PASS FOR ONE PARTY, COURTESY OF PLUTO RECORDS. 2934 KAZINO AVE, ATLANTA, GEORGIA.

“sash,” you sucked your teeth as your eyes creased but you couldn’t help the low giggle that left your mouth. waving the small pieces of paper, you sighed, “what are these for?”

sasha squeezed her lips into a thin line, cheeks almost bursting with air as she blew into them. “a party?”

“what kind of party?” you pressed.

sasha pretended to be distracted, glancing around the dressing room as she gently tapped the tips of her nails on the plastic of her phone case. “it’s an event downtown, and a few artists are hosting.” she spat out.

“and why are you giving me these tickets, exactly?” crossing your arms, you raised a brow. “you know i don’t exactly fit in at those types of things.”

“i know, you say it whenever i invite you out. i just think you need to allow yourself a little more time to have fun! you need to let loose, drink a white claw or somethin’, meet a guy–or a girl. just think about it,” you hated to admit it, but she wasn’t entirely wrong. it had been two weeks since you went out, when you’d met connie, whose name mocked you at every job you took. ymir and eren, being their usual selves, had bugged you about joining them at whatever function they could find, to which you declined. after your encounter with connie, ymir was in your ear for days, rambling about how you ‘fumbled the bag’ and that the two of you could’ve been ‘drinking with rich people’ by now. you didn’t think you’d hear the end of her reaction to you rejecting connie.

a slight grin curled your lips upwards. you hadn’t seen ymir in about four days, and according to her, the two of you were long overdue for a hangout, even if it meant spending the night watching disney classics in your condo. a night out didn’t sound terrible, the longer you thought about it. you placed a hand on your hip as you rolled your neck. ymir was going to love this. “fine. what time does it start?”

“man, we should’ve gotten more shots from the liquor store. i’m not drinking lemon drops and pink whitney all night.” ymir dragged her words as she poured a second shot of hennessy into the icy blue liquid in her styrofoam cup. you shook your head, laughing as you watched her frantically mix the alcohol with the juice. she was going to be fucked up in a few hours, likely off the concotion she was mixing and the lemon drops she was complaining about. “i’m tryna get white girl wasted.”

“aren't you half white?” her piercing gaze locked onto you, glimmers of annoyance flickering in her eyes as you couldn’t help but chuckle.

the air coming in through the windows of ymir’s jeep cut at the skin on your cheeks like daggers as you rested your head against the top of the seat, inhaling and exhaling at the refreshing feeling. despite the bass-boosted music that blared from her speakers and her somewhat reckless take on driving, the passenger seat of her car was one of your favorite places to be. ymir had picked you up around ten minutes after the clock read ten, after much relentless arguing over the phone about what to wear until the two of you were satisfied with your outfits. dressing up had always been a struggle for you, making it hard to step out of your comfort zone. thankfully, ymir was there to push you out of it. she had a job in tailoring for models who walked runways, a fact that shocked most people, so she thought of herself as a fashion guru or whatever. to be frank, you thought she just liked bossing you and her girlfriend around, but you’d never tell her that.

you adjusted the white, black lettered low-cut top that exposed some of your cleavage, the glitter from your body oil dazzling under the moonlight. it was ymir’s choice, alongside the laced-up jeans, snug on your thighs, and the open-toed black heels in the back of your closet. you’d taken down the braids in your head around a week ago, opting for straight, black bundles and a middle part. ymir had one up on you when it came to dressing, but accessorizing was your jam, judging from the blacked out watch on your left wrist, hoop earrings, the dainty chain around your neck, and the chrome clutch you brought, which ymir had no choice but to carry when you got tired of holding it.

the ride to the venue, which was a penthouse, was supposed to be a thirty-minute drive, but ymir made it more like twenty minutes, some unknown rapper's music blasting from her speakers and announcing your arrival. if you hadn’t known why you were there, you would’ve naturally assumed the scene was some gathering for celebrities. bentleys, bugattis, ferraris, and porsches parked alongside the designated parking garage that the security had guided ymir to. once the two of you entered the garage and got out of the car, you noticed hundreds of people hustling to reach the penthouse entrance. some had bulky men in black flanking them on both sides. sparkling chains and rolexes passed your wandering eyes in quick flashes as you ran your eyes over the familiar, but not closely known, faces. faces you’d worked with, faces you’d seen on tv, faces you had vinyls of in your place. it wasn’t like the block party, where maybe one or two famous people appeared. this was the real deal.

“come on, we’ve gotta get in there. i think i just saw rubi rose.” ymir smirked as she scrunched up the coils around her face, cockily peering at her reflection through her phone camera.

"girl, bye, rubi is the last girl here checking for you." you scoffed and rolled your eyes, slapping your clutch against ymir’s chest. “i’m telling historia, by the way.”

the penthouse was simply the epitome of rich. the ceilings were as high as the sky, with dim lights and camera flashes illuminating the bustling setting. the pulsating beats of heavy rap music resonated through the sleek black marble floors as you and ymir stepped out of the penthouse elevator. one dollar bills and confetti practically covered your path as she naturally took the lead, gradually wandering into the deepening sea of bodies with you close behind her. eyes enlarging as you found yourself further into the depths of the crowd, the pungent aroma of sativa and liquor grew more powerful, thick swirls of white smoke floating beyond your height. you couldn’t begin to count the number of voices conversing and singing along to the music around you. there were sections reserved for specific people of importance, some containing a few social media influencers, while others housed those subject to the benefits of nepotism. frankly, you didn’t even know where ymir was taking the two of you. all sasha said was to ‘have fun’ and to ‘get out there’ regardless of her absence.

a lengthy bar-sized counter was against one of the tall sides of the area, alcohol, blunts, pills, and half-drunk glasses crowding the space. the bar was abuzz with a lively crowd, intoxicated laughter and chatter filling the air as people jostled for drinks. you muttered a few ‘excuse us' as you moved through the bodies, eventually finding yourself and ymir a small area to situate yourselves in. you hopped on a plush bar stool, ymir using a hand to hoist you up as you almost stumbled. she stood close by you, watching for any eyes that lurked. it was the typical front she put up to scare off any men plotting against you. “‘mir, we should’ve stayed home. what the hell are we going to do here?” you shouted over the music.

“i don’t know, but we aren’t going home. i’m not letting you back in the house that easily,” her braces twinkled under the lighting. “i’m about to order us some drinks. you want a margarita or somethin’?”

you cocked your head to the side, shrugging. “strawberry with a lemon sugar rim.”

due to your introverted nature, you were sure you’d be dragging ymir out of the party thirty minutes in, usually not enticed by settings like the one you were in. well, that's what you thought.

you swayed your hips to the music surrounding you, the song now more melodic and sensual to accompany the way your body moved under the now fluorescent colors. little did you know, a multitude of eyes were drawn to you, enchanted by you like moths fluttering around a flickering flame. ymir was beside you, a glass of d'usse threatening to spill with her every movement as she inhaled the rolled-up plant between her fingertips, her presence no longer doing much to intimidate those around you two. you’d seen a couple of clients here and there, most asking about your next availability as ymir kept her composure on the outside, fangirling in her head. a few even flirted with her, boosting her giant ego. as much as you couldn’t believe it, you were having fun. not one but two margaritas have coursed through your bloodstream in an hour, providing you with the liquid courage you didn’t know you needed. the sweet shade of your brown skin glistened under the lights as your sobriety taunted you through slightly blurred visions. you looked good-you felt good.

ymir wanted yet another drink, but you didn’t complain because, as much as you exaggerated her actions when she was off that liquor, you knew she could handle her alcohol. you strutted towards the bar with a bit more pep in your step compared to earlier, unknown pairs of eyes watching the way your ass swam in your tight pants. ignoring the murmurs about how sexy you were from shameless partygoers, you patiently waited with ymir at the bar. however, the service wasn’t as quick as it was earlier.

“do you think they’d get us out of here if i jumped over the counter and made my drink?” ymir huffed as her eyebrows twitched in annoyance. “because this is some bullshit, bro.”

you giggled. “hell fuckin’ yeah. these people don’t play that shit.”

it was as if a heavy weight sat on your chest as your breathing became irregular, slowing then speeding up, tightening the muscles in your chest. it was hot. people swarmed the room like bees, and it wasn’t exactly the warmest month of the year, judging by the way heat blasted through the overhead vents. not exactly the best environment to get ‘fucked up’ in. you shifted your stance, feet uncomfortably squealing in the soles of your heels as you looked around for a spot, something colder perhaps.

“hey, ‘mir?” a set of glass-panelled windows caught your eye, and a set of open doors at the top of the staircase in the corner of the room. it wasn’t occupied like the bottom floor. it was practically empty up there. perfect, you thought. “i’m gonna go outside for a second. you see that balcony upstairs? i’ll be up there.”

ymir squinted suspiciously. “why, are you okay? what’s wrong? i’ll come with you–”

“‘mir, i’m fine, i promise. i just need some air, it’s hot as hell in here. i’ll be quick.” you reassured her, but that look of worry never faded from her freckled face despite your words.

“if you say so. i’ll come up there when i get my drink. you know the drill if anyone bothers you.”

it was as if you commanded the attention of everyone you passed as your heels clicked against the floor while strutting through the crowd. the noise faded as if you were underwater as you reached the top of the steps, a wave of relief washing over you as the chilly breeze bleeding through the doors brushed over you. you exhaled as you stepped onto the concrete leading outside. you assumed the strong smell of weed, heavier than before, was just the original scent of the city. practically everyone was out, and everyone was smoking weed.

outside, you leaned against one of the glass panels, smiling as your chest loosened, bathing in the little moonlight that could reach under the balcony overhead. it was a party, so you knew you wouldn’t be the only person outside looking for a getaway. a man, taller and lean, stood further to your right, raising a blunt to his lips every few seconds as he slouched against the brick wall placed along the walls of the space.

it was dark, with only the flashing lights from downstairs peeking over the second floor to provide illumination. still, you could make out a few details, like how the diamonds on his shoes shone, how his well-coordinated outfit complemented his relaxed posture. it may have been the alcohol delaying the speed of your thinking or the secondhand smoke, but you hadn’t noticed how familiar the tattoos that mapped his skin were, red and black dancing over his muscles as they flexed with the softest of movements. he didn’t seem to be paying any mind to his surroundings either, mindlessly gazing off into the night as the live activity of the city reflected off his hazel orbs.

but it was when he finally turned his head, looking down at his shoes for a few seconds before lifting it for good, now looking at you. it had clicked when you stared at the vibrant burgundy of his overgrown, buzzed hair. at that point, you didn’t care that you were staring, even when his low eyes met your own. your body tightened, the tension from two weeks ago settling into you like an old house as you watched his eyes flicker over you. your face, your body, your outfit, your lips. his mouth twitched, once, twice, before turning upward, iced-out canines putting the stars in the sky to shame.

a thousand nerves ran up and down your back as your lips parted, words failing to fall off your tongue. but there it was, that raspiness laced between curiosity all over again, doing all the talking for you. “is that you, mami?” you swallowed the wad of saliva threatening to drip from your bottom lip as you shakily took a deep breath. it was him. connie fucking springer, again.

“hi, mr. springer.” you shyly spoke, turning your head so he didn't see how you smiled upon hearing the name.

connie freed a cloud of smoke from his nostrils, waving the scent away with his hands as he raised his chin, taking just a few steps closer to where your antsy body rested against the window. “i told you about that shit, girl. what you doin’ here? you came to see me?”

a light scoff blew from your mouth as you moved in your position. “boy, you wish. i needed some air, i’m not one of those fangirls in your section.”

“yeah, i do wish. i thought about yo ass for the rest of the day after we met.” you tried to busy yourself by focusing on the ground, but you could smell him moving towards you, his raw, husky scent oddly masking the weed that was all too powerful to ignore. the tips of his shoes lined up with yours. connie was close. he watched you shift below him, satisfaction soaking over him. “that’s not what i meant, though. what are you doin’ here with all these people? i thought this wasn’t your crowd, princesa. i would’ve found you again if it was.”

“princesa? that’s a new one.” you gazed up at him through faux purity, somewhat intrigued by the curiosity embedded in his tongue. connie was as handsome as you recalled, all confident and stoic in his way as he studied you all over again. liquid courage was a real thing, judging by the way you gradually swiped your tongue over the pink of your lips, lip gloss long gone. you lifted your chin, wanting to seem as tall and indestructible as he did. “i got an invite from a friend. she said I needed to let loose or whatever. this isn’t my scene, but i haven’t been having a terrible time.”

“yeah?” connie’s eyes were magnetized to yours as he reached above your head and drove the joint into the glass, putting the fire out before tucking it behind his ear. a bold smirk laid across his face as he towered over you, a shiver racing down your spine. his earlobes were adorned with an array of piercings, a striking detail you hadn't caught the first time you met him.

you nodded as you crossed your arms. “yeah.”

“that’s wassup. i like that you tryin’ something new, especially if it means i get to see you again.” rolling your eyes, you shook your head as if his words weren’t meant to pry at the smile on your face. “you look real nice too. i almost forgot how fine you were, ‘s been a minute, eh?”

connie moved like he didn’t know what he looked like, and in the moment, it drove you crazy. he was the walking definition of charming with his inquisitive tone and decorated teeth, his presence alone being a problem of its own. but you knew he knew. he couldn’t help himself. “it’s been two weeks, con. you ain’t miss me that bad.” it was the liquor making you regret rejecting him two weeks ago, right?

“shit, i gotta know you to miss you but we already had that conversation, ain’t we?”

“why didn’t you ask eren for my number or even my instagram if i made such a big impression on you?” you were teasing, honestly. you didn’t think your small interaction with connie meant anything, but you were stalling for time, whether you wanted to admit it or not. you might’ve liked talking to him, as brief as the conversations were.

“because,” connie leaned down by your ear, the warmth of his words hitting your neck, melting your hard exterior like fire on ice. “i don’t wanna get it the easy way, i wanna work for that shit. i meant what i said, you a pretty ass fuckin’ girl and i’m tryna know you, but i have to earn it. no es cierto?”

his lips were close enough to hit your neck, positioned just below your sweet spot on your neck if he were to fall, and it had you trembling to say the least. you could hear how his teeth ground together as he stressed his words, voice deepening but still sounding as enticing as it did minutes ago. his accent was thicker than you remembered, the words you knew sounding foreign as they rang in your ear. lips parting, your tongue twitched helplessly inside your mouth as the words in your head failed to form.

“what? cat got your tongue?

a series of vibrations abruptly drew your gaze to your phone in your hand, grasping your attention like a sudden jolt of electricity. your eyes widened as you gaped at connie before looking at your screen. three anxious coded messages from ymir lit up your screen, dancing in your notification center as an indication that she had managed to break through your do-not-disturb feature. connie didn’t have a care in the world as he looked down at the messages, laughing softly upon reading them. “cinderella’s gotta go?”

“oh, hush, boy. i told her i’d be a couple of minutes. i didn’t think i’d see you, of all people, out here. you were distracting me.” for the first time during your talk with connie, you were smiling with all your teeth, fueling his ego like gasoline to a fire.

“is that so? If i ain’t know any better, i’d think you were enjoying talkin’ to me, mami.” he had backed up a few steps, taking in your appearance from the ‘far’ distance.

“something like that.”

connie bit down on his bottom lip, hands cusping together as he twisted his rings up and down his slender digits, watching as you leaned against the door frame. your fingers grazed the cool glass of the open patio door while one foot rested inside the sleek penthouse, the other lingering on the balcony with him. eyes raking up and down the curves that entailed your figure, he let out a laugh that resembled something of yearning, throwing his head back. “is this goodbye, princesa?”

your gaze darted to the staircase just a few feet away, then back to connie, where you batted your lashes playfully. grasping the door frame, you let your hips sway enticingly as you glided toward him, embodying a sense of newfound confidence as you shook your head. connie arched an eyebrow, his arms crossed tightly as a look of interest spread across his face. you were closer than he was before, the mischievous fog of your intentions radiating from you as you locked your gaze with his. what he didn’t know was that you had tracked every move he had made during your time together, specifically when he moved his phone from his back pocket to the one in the front.

a grin nothing short of wicked took over your features as you lazily glided the tips of your acrylics against the metal and jewels embedded in his belt. he never once broke eye contact, but he could feel what you were doing in more places than one. you brushed your thumb over the detailing, your touch masked with innocence, yet lust was all around the two of you. hooking one finger into the depths of his pocket, you pulled out his phone and turned the screen towards him, waving it in his face until the device unlocked, and connie didn’t move an inch, intoxicated by the sheer sight of you.

you opened the phone, not paying attention to how his apps were childishly sprawled across his home screen as you clicked the green phone icon. the bright numbers on the keypad reflected off your eyes as you typed in your phone number, sending yourself a simple exclamation point so he’d later see you in his recent messages. you’d leave it up to him to decide what to save you as.

“i gotta go, okay?” with a playful laugh, you tucked the device back into his pocket, looking up at him with eyes filled with amusement. “bye, connie.”

connie stood frozen for a moment, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched you effortlessly spin on your heel, gliding away from him with effortless grace. the air crackled with an undeniable tension, thick and electric from the words left unspoken and the lingering glances. he felt a mix of shock and delight wash over him as he took in the sight of you, your demeanor carefree and confident, as if the moment weighed as much as a feather. as you walked away, his heart raced, and a foolish smile settled on his lips, knowing that somehow, something had shifted. “bye, [♡].”

“you’re not giving me enough details, [♡]. what did he say? did he ask you out? hello, i need more information–” ymir’s eyes practically popped out of her head when you informed her about your second meeting with connie, her nails digging into your skin as she held onto you for shock relief in the car. by now, you’d told her the story at least six times, yet she insisted that you had left out a detail or two, asking a question for every bit of the tale you told.

“ymir, i’ve told you everything from what weed it smelled like he was smoking to the tones he said everything in. what more do you need to know?” you yawned, rolling your eyes. the two of you left the event about twenty minutes ago, with ymir arriving at your condo faster than expected. you’d left about twenty minutes after your run-in with connie, who, strangely enough, was nowhere to be found for the rest of the night. you’d even started to wonder if you had imagined seeing him because connie was hard to miss.

ymir put the car in park in front of the building you lived in, close enough to the door so that she’d be able to watch you get inside. she huffed and looked at you with a raised brow. “everything. you’re gonna be dating connie springer in a minute, i think this shit is important. think about the couple's interviews, oh my god–”

“that’s my sign to get my ass in the house. goodnight, ‘mir.” you opened the door of her jeep, ignoring all her protests but the one reminding you to text her when you were inside.

much to your surprise, you enjoyed your night out. You hadn’t expected to. It may have been cliche, but you were a homebody, unlike most people your age, who lived for a night out. any other time, you would’ve taken a night in watching glee or something over being surrounded by drunk celebrities, but you weren’t a party pooper. as early as three sips into your margarita, you were on the dance floor, dancing around the wealthiest people in the world with no care in the world, even though all that hopping around in four-inch heels cost you the ability to comfortably walk on your feet.

as you stepped through your front door, the enchanting scent of peony enveloped you like a warm, comforting hug, a sense of familiarity you had missed during your night. the heels had been off your feet the second you stepped into the carpeted elevator, allowing you to glide across the hardwood floors from your living room to the plush carpeting of your bedroom. you flung yourself onto your bed with a dramatic sigh, the fabric of your clothes clung uncomfortably as you sank into the soft mattress, closing your eyes for a second. your arms flailed across the soft silk comforter as you nuzzled your head into the mattress, eyelids getting heavier the longer you spent in the position, dozing off like a newborn.

a deep, lingering groan escaped your lips as your phone buzzed insistently against your chest, pulling you reluctantly from your sleep. one jerk, then two, indicating someone had texted you twice. your eyelids fluttered open slowly, a nasty scowl spreading on your lips as you snatched your phone from your bra. rubbing your eyes, not caring too much about messing up your extensions, as you squinted at the blue lights glaring at your retinas. not two, but four messages sat in your notification center.

the first two were from ymir, who cursed you for not telling her you made it inside and told you a passive-aggressive goodnight. sometimes you forgot to tell her you were in the house, it was just one of those nights. you huffed as you worked your thumbs to text her back a swift apology, telling her goodnight too before responding to the other messengers that had woken you from your sleep. an unsaved number sat at the top of your messages from around ten minutes ago, the area code and sender unknown.

(347) xxx-xxx

mami is it really u ?

a bit of your irritation faded as you realized who the message was from, smiling to yourself as you typed a quick response.

i don’t know, mr springer, is it?

it was late, one in the morning to be exact, so you didn’t expect an immediate response. he was likely still out clubbing, anyway. you exited the messages, looking for the last one you’d respond to before heading to bed for the night. you adjusted your eyes as you read the message, not paying too close attention to the sender before clicking the text. a line of inconsistent text messages was displayed across the screen, the last from over a year ago. your heart suddenly began thumping against your chest erratically, as if it were going to burst from your chest and onto your bed. lips parting, you sat up, your eyebrow supporting your body weight as your head nearly hung from your neck, jaw falling lower and lower.

it had been over a year since he last checked on you amidst his frantic football career. he was the last person you expected to hear from that night, as you anticipated a million messages from clients you met while out before receiving a text from him. aside from catching up, you figured there was nothing more to say as time passed.

a ball of nerves threatened to burst from your throat as your breath hitched, rereading the text he’d sent you over and over again, as if you were convinced you’d imagined it.

ony.

you looked good tonight, ian think i would see you there

exhaling deeply, your fingers shook, the phone wobbling as you typed.

you saw me?

one, two, three, four, five seconds.

ony.

hy i saw you.

you hard to miss mama

#˗ˏˋ✩´ˎ˗ nana productions!#♫★·˚ ༘ lwyd.#connie springer #attack on titan #connie x black!reader #connie springer x black reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan x reader

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crimson-and-clover-1717 · 9 months ago

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When I watched OFMD this year, I literally knew three things:

It was called Our Flag Means Death

It was a pirate comedy

It had been cancelled

I didn’t know Rhys Darby (‘that Murray bloke from Conchords’) or Con O’Neill (‘the weird guy from Chernobyl’) were in it until they came on screen. And please don’t stab in me in the face, but I had never heard of Taika Waititi. I’m very much not the target market for this show. Although I will say I think it’s universal in its exploration of the human condition. So if you’re human, the show is for you.

I knew nothing about budget cuts, editing decisions, or even at this point any circumstances around why it had been cancelled. I had not an inkling it was a romance. I had no notion it was going to overtake my life to such an extent.

I watched one episode a night for 18 nights (I know, I know… I binge-watched it immediately afterwards over two days, and haven’t stopped since). I also had no-one to talk to about the show as I watched the 18 episodes. No-one I knew had ever heard of it. I really was a blank canvas.

And this is what I thought. Other than finding Calypso’s Birthday a little uncomfortable on first watch (and that’s largely because I find torture, even the OFMD variety, difficult to engage with - I always skip the opening of 206 now), I saw no difference between the seasons in terms of artistic merit. It’s possible that because I didn’t experience an 18-month hiatus, and build up my own version of what season 2 should be in my head, I didn’t have any expectations to be knocked down. I just engaged with what they asked me to watch.

I fell in love with this show at ‘My name’s Stede. I’ll be your robber here today.’ I fell in love with Stede Bonnet when he did his little Scrappy Doo air-punch in episode two.

With regard to season two, The Innkeeper affected me so much I honestly think it altered my brain at a structural level. More so than The Chain sequence which is when I think this show started affecting my brain chemistry.

I also loved the development of Stede and Ed outside of their personas. The couch scene in Fun and Games made me believe in them as a couple in ways I hadn’t quite in season one because they were growing and being real with each other. I thought their arguments were so well-written. Man on Fire has one of the most authentic representations of couple miscommunication I have ever seen on tv. And I think Mermen is really good in doing what it needed to do, and did it well. How do you end a tv series that gives a satisfactorily emotional ending, but doesn’t give away everything in case there’s another season?

Ed’s journey in particular just ripped my heart out and then glued it back together. And seeing Stede continue to develop his very nonlinear understanding of the power of his earnestness and gnc self, whilst still sometimes wrestling with notions of traditional masculinity… I needed to grow a second heart.

When I learned of the financial and time constraints later on, I was shocked they had achieved such a high standard of tv.

Imagine my shock when I discovered the Canyon…

It’s fine if you don’t like season 2, or season 1, or OFMD at all for that matter. But if you want me to say season 2 isn’t any good, or as good as season 1, then you want me to say something that I have never felt to be true. When you experience it holistically like I did, it all hangs together beautifully.

#season 2 #ofmd #it made me a better person #stede bonnet #ed teach

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bamfkeeper · 7 months ago

Text

All I Want. | K.W

summary: It's so busy, you miss Kurt.

warnings: GN!reader | Fluff | Brief mention of mutant treatment

a/n: I had a handful of requests/ideas I'm going to try to do. I love a lot of them so I'll do my best to pick the ideas that were mentioned more than once. For now here's this little drabble, not long but something cute. Not edited ignore mistakes. ;; wc: 1.3k

The holidays turned the mansion into a whirlwind of endless activity and festive energy.

Every moment seemed filled with purpose as you moved from one seasonal task to another - mixing cookie dough in the warm kitchen while trying to keep prying blue hands away from the dough, building snowmen in the crisp winter air with the younglings, organizing decorations from dusty attic boxes, and carefully hanging twinkling lights along the hallways. The mansion buzzed with non-stop holiday preparations from sunrise to sunset, and while you had help from the other older mutants, the majority of the planning and decorating fell on your shoulders.

Between the constant motion of holiday tasks and the infectious excitement in the air, you found yourself working well past your usual limits, your body finally signaling its need for rest as evening approached.

The cold winter nights grew more and more frigid, nothing brought you more comfort than sinking into the plush embrace of the living room couch, wrapping your hands around a steaming mug of hot cocoa topped with a generous swirl of whipped cream and a sprinkle of crushed peppermint and cocoa shavings. The warmth of the dozen bamfs that gathered around you didn’t go unnoticed, creating a cozy cuddle pile with you. Their curiosity and playful nature showed as they cautiously stretched forward, tiny tongues darting out to steal tastes of the sweet cream and minty chocolate garnish that crowned your drink.

Kurt's presence had grown increasingly sparse lately. The holiday season always brought an overwhelming surge of responsibilities for the X-Men, as they encountered a significant increase in cases of abandoned mutants during this time of year. The harsh winter conditions made their missions even more critical, keeping the team constantly engaged in rescue operations.

The majority of mutants they discovered were victims of abuse or deliberately abandoned, left to face the bitter elements alone. The numerous children they found never failed to make your heart ache, young souls who had just begun to manifest their powers and were cast aside by those who should have protected them.

The weight of his absence pressed heavily on your heart.

This year had been particularly difficult, as your relationship with Kurt had been flourishing, you grew closer than you had been with anyone and finally felt comfortable in your own skin. Yet these precious moments of togetherness remained frustratingly elusive. The memory of his enthusiastic promises to share traditional recipes from his homeland lingered in your mind, but his overwhelming schedule had prevented that from happening.

Night after lonely night, you found yourself lying awake, wondering when he might finally return with enough time to dedicate to your shared moments together.

You hated feeling so selfish, but you also couldn't help it.

A gentle hand brushed against your cheek as one of the mischievous bamfs scrambled its way up to perch on your shoulder, its small tongue darting out to playfully lick away the spots of whipped cream that had collected on your lip and the tip of your nose. "H-Hey, hey, I think you've had enough sugar, all of you," you spoke with mild exasperation to the gathering of bamfs surrounding you, their eager eyes fixed on your drink as they continued their persistent attempts to steal a taste.

The sheer volume of cookies, candy canes, and other sweets they managed to consume on a daily basis had become a source of concern, and each night you found yourself anxiously waiting, fully expecting to discover them all suffering from severe sugar-induced stomach aches.

Yet their bellies were made of steel, the hellfire bellowing inside them scorching everything that hit their stomachs.

After what felt like an eternity of coaxing and gentle persuasion, you finally managed to get all of the little bamfs settled into their beds for the night. The last one had been particularly resistant, but eventually succumbed to sleep.

Exhausted from the long day, you made your way to the bathroom to complete your nightly routine. You brushed your teeth and washed your face, taking comfort in these familiar actions, none of it took much effort and was all muscle memory. When you finished, you reached for the light switch, flicking it off before wearily making your way out of the bathroom.

Your body felt heavy with fatigue as you climbed into bed, your mind already drifting toward the promise of sleep. Just as you were about to fall asleep, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around your waist. The unexpected contact sent a jolt of adrenaline through your system, instantly dispelling any trace of drowsiness from your body as all your muscles grew tight. On instinct, you threw your elbow backward in a defensive motion, connecting with something solid behind you.

"Ach - Scheiße!" Kurt's pained voice rang out as he quickly brought his hand up to cradle his nose. The sudden commotion caused several of the bamfs to materialize in your lap, their small forms bristling with protective energy. Their eyes glowed intensely in the darkness as they positioned themselves defensively with their backs puffed up, but upon recognizing Kurt, their aggressive posturing immediately melted away.

"Kurt?? Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry," you muttered apologetically, your hand instinctively reaching out through the darkness to find his where it was pressed against his face. Your heart was still racing from the startle. "You completely caught me off guard there...I didn't even sense you in the room at all."

"Heh...it's alright, liebling...I should have let you know I returned from the mission early. I wanted to surprise you but...you had already gone to sleep." He gently rubbed his nose where you had accidentally struck him, before carefully taking your outstretched hand in his and leaning closer to study your face in the dim light. "You seem completely drained of energy, ja? Was it a particularly demanding day?" His brow furrowed with concern, causing his usually neat hair to fall forward in loose curls that partially obscured his worried expression.

Your hand drifted upward of its own accord to brush through his disheveled curls, trying to smooth them back into place. "Yeah I...I had a busy day..." you admitted with a tired sigh.

"Sprechen Sie mit mir." Kurt spoke gently, his voice a soothing whisper as he drew you close against his body. The winter season had blessed him with an exceptionally thick coat, his usual short fur now grown into a luxurious winter covering that was so soft and warm. You nestled deeper into his embrace, his typically velvet-like fuzz had grown into longer, softer strands that were just long enough to twirl playfully around your fingers, particularly abundant across his chest where it formed gentle curls.

His tail moved with gentle affection against your leg as he carefully positioned you both for comfort, creating a cozy space where you could share your stories. With interest reflecting in his eyes, Kurt settled in to hear about your day. He listened intently as you recounted your baking experience with the bamfs, playing outside with the children, and decorating like an expert. You were pretty proud of yourself.

"Ah, I figured you made those cookies... they are absolutely perfect, my liebe. I might have snuck a few when I got back," he smiled warmly, his prominent fangs poking out endearingly as he spoke. His gentle, playful tease made your cheeks flush with warmth and you instinctively shifted even closer to his comforting presence.

"Did you happen to see the special batch I made just for you?" you asked, looking up at him expectantly.

"Ja...I must confess…I ate them all," he replied with a hint of satisfaction in his voice, his lips brushing your forehead as he leaned down to kiss your skin.

"You didn't save a single one??" You looked up at him with a playful smirk, which he couldn't help but mirror on his own face.

"Nein... they were specifically made for me, weren't they? And I am absolutely not sharing," he declared with mock possessiveness. He loved your cookies, and whenever you bakes him anything, he tended to be pretty protective over the things you made.

"Greedy..." You murmured, making Kurt lean down again, his chest rumbling softly as his voice became heavy with drowsiness.

"Stets."

Thanks for reading~

*BAMF*

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #xmen #x men #x men 97 #kurt wagner x you #nightcrawler x you #nightcrawler oneshot #kurt wagner oneshot #🎠my works

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