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woso-dreamzzz · 1 month

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Blood Sugar II

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

Summary: You go on Bake Off

"This time, on the Great Stand Up To Cancer Bake Off, it's Lioness time. Four of the England Lionesses brave the tent in the name of charity to tackle three challenges in the hope of securing, not the Euros trophy, but the star baker apron. This week's celebrities are: Leah Williamson, England captain and defender, Alessia Russo, goal scorer for England, Keira Walsh, England's midfield maestro and y/n l/n, England's youngest star."

You stand in front of your countertop, drumming your fingers against the wood as you look at all of the ingredients in front of you.

"Now, for your signature challenge, Paul and Prue would like you each to make a baker's dozen of sugar cookies," Noel Fielding says and you contemplate slamming your head onto the counter.

You knew agreeing to be on this was a bad idea.

"Each cookie must be hand-shaped," Alison Hammond continues," And made with love. You've got one hour. On your marks."

"Get set."

"Bake!"

"So," Leah says suddenly," Is this a good time to mention I don't know what a baker's dozen is?"

You've never really been a bigger baker. It wasn't really your speciality like a lot of other things like cooking your own meals and doing your own laundry.

There was also the added thing of the fact that no one in your family baked because you couldn't eat it. Well, you could, but it would send your sugar levels through the roof and you hated injecting more insulin than normal because it always stressed you out.

"Less!" You yell out," How much sugar is too much sugar?"

"I'm not helping you!" She yells back and you stick your tongue out at her.

"This is discrimination!" You declare as you start pouring your sugar in, hoping for the best.

The judges leave it ten minutes or so before they start walking around.

They got to Leah first, congratulating her on captaining the team to victory which she graciously waves off before getting way too competitive over a baking show.

Keira is next and it's hard not to be endeared by Keira, clearly the only sane person in the tent.

Alessia ends up accidentally breaking the electric mixer and tries to get everyone to ignore it by throwing a dish towel over it.

Then, it's your turn.

"So, y/n," Paul says," Do you have much experience with baking?"

"No," You reply.

"Did you prepare at all for this?"

"No."

"Do you have much hope you'll win?"

"What I'm hoping for is someone else does extremely badly so I don't come last."

Prue laughs. "Well that's honest of you. So, you have done no preparation at all?"

"I'm planning on just winging it," You admit," I'm diabetic so I don't really eat sugary things so I'm just hoping that they're edible."

"So you're not going to be tasting as you go?"

You eyes go wide. "Am I meant to do that?" You hand goes to cover your mouth. "No, are you joking? Am I meant to be doing that?"

The judges have a little laugh as they back away.

"Wait! Don't go! Am I meant to taste as I go?!"

Even though you don't taste as you go, you don't end up losing the challenge (not with plain tastebuds Leah Williamson in the running) but you don't win either.

Clearly, Keira's just good at everything.

The technical round is a disaster for everyone involved, even Keira and somehow, after burning her first set of fondant fancies, Alessia manages to win.

Leah continues to be the worst, which is what everyone expects so even though you don't taste anything, you're not the worst and, honestly, that's what you're aiming for.

You're here to provide the jokes and not to humiliate yourself on national tv and, you know, also to show that diabetics can bake too - not that you really knew that was a big issue until you signed up for this but apparently it is.

The only one that you actually practiced for was your showstopper.

'Your Biggest Triumph' was the theme and you'd had to practice for this one.

"Leah!" Keira shrieks suddenly and you whip your head around to see Leah with her hand in Keira's bowl of batter.

"I'm sorry Kei," Leah says, sounding not very sorry at all," But you're going to win if I don't sabotage you. I'm sure you understand."

You hold your breath as Keira's eyes dart towards Leah's bowl of unsupervised batter, leaping over the countertop to do the same.

"Wait, Kei! Keira, stop!"

Keira doesn't stop and you notice from the corner of your eyes Alessia moving as well.

You snatch your bowl up before she can grab it, sprinting to the other side of the tent.

Alessia follows you until you're backed up against the fridges.

"Less, Less!" You shriek, voice panicky as Leah and Keira wrestle at Leah's counter," Don't do this! You don't have to do this!"

"I'm sorry." Like Leah, Alessia doesn't sound sorry at all. "But it's for the greater good."

"Greater good! This is pure selfishness!"

"This is baking!"

"This is sabotage. Stay away from my bowl!"

"Come on. Don't make this hard than it needs to be."

An almighty crash sounds as Keira and Leah accidentally knock a mixer off the table and in the confusion, you manage to shove Alessia away to pour your batter into the pan.

The carnage continues throughout the time limit, only dampening when a truce is called so you can all decorate your cakes. Apart from that, it's a free-for-all as you find yourself standing on Leah's countertop, throwing wooden spoons at Keira and Alessia whenever they try to approach the pair of you.

"Alright, y/n," Prue says at the end of the time limit," Tell us about your greatest triumph."

"Okay." You point at the various decorations on your cake. "So this cake is a representation of my Dexcom. I know everyone else is choosing football stuff and all that but when I was six, I started feeling really bad. I couldn't focus and I was sweating and I couldn't really move well and I felt tired. It went on for a few days."

You point at one of the little marshmallow figures you made.

"I was playing in Alessia's garden with her and I threw up everywhere and she insisted on having her parents take me to the hospital. I'd developed DKA and was about an hour or so from going into a coma. The doctors ran tests and stuff and found that my pancreas had shut down. So, my biggest triumph was being diagnosed with diabetes."

You give a little shrug, pointing out the way you'd shaped your cake to look like your Dexcom and how on top you'd decorated it with marshmallow versions of you and Alessia and the doctor that you still went to get check-ups from.

"That's a lovely story, y/n," Paul says," But let's see if the actual cake tastes good. What kind is it?"

"Victoria Sponge because it's my mum's favourite."

Each judge takes a slice and you hold your breath.

Paul holds his hand out to you.

Your eyes go wide. "Are you serious?"

"Shake my hand."

You do that gleefully. Getting a Paul Hollywood handshakes means a lot.

"I mean, there's not much I can say," He says," The sponge is perfect. The filling is perfect. The flavours work well. The story to go with it is fantastic."

"And you never tasted any of it?" Prue asks and you shrug with a grin.

"I'm on a strict diet."

"Well...I mean if football doesn't work it then baking certainly will."

The Star Baker Apron you win at the end hangs up on your wall with your Euro's medal.

#woso x reader #england lionesses x reader #england lionesses #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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kierongillen · 2 months

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General Player Advice For RPGs

I published this in my newsletter here a while back, and discourse reminded me I wanted to put it more public. I probably should get around to actually doing a proper blog for this kind of stuff. You can sign up to the newsletter here.

One of the things which I’ve been chewing over since getting back into RPGs is that there’s so much advice for GMs and so little advice for players. I keep thinking over why - though the whys aren’t what I’m about to write about. However, some other folk think any worthwhile advice is system/genre specific.

This got me chewing over whether I agree with that. As the list below shows, I don’t.

The first four are ones where I think I succeeded, and as principles generally guide you towards better play no matter what game you’re playing. The last three are mainly applicable to games with a significant story component (the last especially). There’s a few more I played with, but they were more about being a good at the table generally – about being a better player in any game rather than specifically about role-playing games. I also avoided ones which were more GM-and-player advice rather than just player advice (if there’s a problem in game, communicate out of game, use appropriate safety tools, etc).

I also didn’t include “Buy The GM Stuff”.

Anyway – here they are. See what you think.

GENERAL PLAYER PRINCIPLES FOR BETTER PLAY

1) Make choices that support the table’s creative goals

If you’re playing a storygame, don’t treat it like a tactical wargame. If you’re playing a tactical wargame, don’t treat it like a storygame. If it’s bleak horror, don’t make jokes. If you’re in a camp cosy romp, don’t bring in horror. It also varies from moment to moment – if someone’s scene is sincere, don’t undercut it.

2) Be A Fan of The Other Characters

This is GM advice in almost all Powered By the Apocalypse games – for the GM to be a fan of the characters. It’s a good trait for a player to cultivate. Be actively excited and interested in the other characters’ triumphs and disasters. Cheer them on. Feel for them. Players being excited for other players always makes the game better. Players turning off until it’s their turn always makes it worse.

3) Be aware of the amount of spotlight time you’re taking

This is a hard one for fellow ADHD-ers, but have an awareness of who is speaking more and who is speaking less. A standard GM skill is moving spotlight time around to players who have had less time. Really good players do this too. Pass the ball.

4) Learn what rules apply to you, to smooth the game, not derail it.

To stress, this isn’t “come to the table knowing everything” but learning the rules that are relevant to your character along the way, especially if they are marginal (looking at you, Grappling and Alchemy rules). Doing otherwise adds to the facilitator’s cognitive load and hurts the game’s flow. The flip is being aware that knowing stuff isn’t an excuse to break the game’s flow with a rules debate either – that’s an extension of the third principle.

5) Make choices which support other characters’ reality

If someone’s playing a scary bastard, treat them like a scary bastard. If they’re meant to be the leader, have your character treat them like the leader , for better or worse. A fictional reality is shared, and you construct it together.

6) Ensure The Group Understands Who Your Character Is

This is the flip of the above – having a character conception that is clear enough that everyone gets who you are, what you want to do and how you want to do it. If you don’t, the table will be incapable of supporting your choices. This links to…

7) If asked a preference in a story game, a strong choice is almost always better than a middling choice.

Don’t equivocate. If asked “You’ve met this person before. How do you feel about him?” either “I love him” or “I hate him” is better than anything middling. The exception is if it’s something you’re really not interested in pursuing.

#rpg #rpg player advice #ttrpg #ttrpg player advice #ttrpg advice

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nayziiz · 5 months

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Winner | CS55

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader (she/her)

Warnings: Smut, fluff, praise kink, size kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

Carlos's heart pounded with adrenaline as he surged ahead, the roar of the engine drowning out the crowd's cheers. He had waited for this moment, trained for it relentlessly, and now, as he soared past the faltering leader, the taste of victory was tantalizingly close.

But even in the midst of his triumph, a small voice of caution whispered in his mind. He knew all too well the unpredictable nature of motorsport, the countless variables that could turn a seemingly certain win into bitter disappointment. It was this awareness, this ability to remain rational in the face of intense emotion, that had often set him apart on the track.

As he navigated the twists and turns of the circuit, his mind raced along with his car. He analyzed every corner, every potential pitfall, constantly adjusting his strategy to stay ahead of the competition. Despite his hot-headed nature, there was a methodical precision to his driving, a calculated aggression that made him a force to be reckoned with.

But then, just as victory seemed within his grasp, disaster struck. A sudden jolt, a grinding noise from the engine, and Carlos's heart sank. The mechanical gremlins that had plagued the previous leader had now found their way into his own car, threatening to derail his dreams.

In that moment, the fiery temper that lay dormant beneath Carlos's cool exterior flared to life. Frustration and anger bubbled up within him, threatening to consume his rationality. He pounded his fists against the steering wheel, cursing the cruel twist of fate that had robbed him of his chance at glory.

But even as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him, a calm resolve settled over Carlos. He knew that losing his temper now would only compound his misfortune. With steely determination, he forced himself to focus, to push aside the frustration and channel his energy into finding a solution.

With a series of quick adjustments and some expertly timed maneuvers, Carlos managed to nurse his ailing car across the finish line, clinching victory by the narrowest of margins. As he stepped out of the cockpit to the deafening roar of the crowd, there was no trace of the anger that had threatened to consume him moments before. Instead, there was only the triumphant smile of a racer who had faced adversity head-on and emerged victorious.

As she stood in the garage, eyes fixed on the screen displaying the unfolding drama on the track, a sense of déjà vu washed over her. It was as if time had folded back upon itself, transporting her to another moment, another race, another victory.

Singapore. The memory flooded her mind with vivid clarity. The thrill of watching Carlos tear through the night, the elation as he crossed the finish line first, the overwhelming rush of emotion that had followed. She could still feel the electricity in the air, the palpable excitement that had enveloped them all as they celebrated his triumph.

And now, as she watched him once again poised on the brink of victory, that same sense of anticipation crackled in the air. If this race unfolded as she hoped, if Carlos once again emerged triumphant, she would gladly join him in releasing that pent-up adrenaline, in reveling in the euphoria of success.

She could already imagine the scene: the champagne spraying, the cheers ringing out, the infectious joy radiating from Carlos as he basked in the glow of his accomplishment. And she would be right there beside him, sharing in his moment of glory, savoring every second of the celebration.

As the final moments of the race ticked away, her heart raced in time with the cars on the screen. Victory was tantalizingly close now, just within reach. And if history repeated itself, if Carlos crossed that finish line first once again, she would be ready to join him in letting loose the floodgates of exhilaration, to savor the sweet taste of success together.

As Carlos basked in the glow of his first win of the season, the atmosphere in the paddock crackled with excitement and jubilation. Cheers echoed through the air, champagne flowed freely, and the buzz of media activity filled every corner.

But amidst the celebrations and post-race obligations, Carlos couldn't shake the longing to find her, to share this moment of triumph with the one person who mattered most to him. After his fleeting moment on the podium, he sought her out, eager to revel in their victory together.

With the door securely locked behind them, Carlos felt the weight of anticipation settle in the air like a charged current. He stood for a moment, savoring the thrill of the moment, the hunger building within him like a predator poised to strike.

In the dim light of the driver's room, he could see her silhouette, a tantalizing figure bathed in the soft glow of victory. He could almost taste the adrenaline that lingered on her skin, mingling with the heady scent of his own cologne, sweat, and the remnants of champagne from their celebration.

She remained still, a silent beacon drawing him closer with each passing moment. There was a knowing in her stance, a silent invitation for him to take the lead, to guide their movements with a primal urgency that mirrored the intensity of their shared desire.

With a predatory grace, Carlos closed the distance between them, his movements deliberate and purposeful. There was no need for words in this moment, no need for hesitation. They both understood the silent language of desire, the unspoken connection that bound them together in this private sanctuary of intimacy.

As he reached her side, he allowed himself to drink in the sight of her, to revel in the magnetic pull that drew them together. And then, with a hunger that bordered on desperation, he claimed her neck in a searing kiss, igniting a firestorm of passion that consumed them both in its fierce embrace.

“Hands behind your back, baby,” Carlos directed her, his words laced with a raw intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

Without hesitation, she complied, clasping her hands behind her back as he had instructed. As she surrendered to his command, he couldn't help but feel a surge of power coursing through him. There was something undeniably intoxicating about the way she willingly relinquished control, placing her trust entirely in his hands.

He watched her closely, his gaze lingering on the sight of her bound wrists, a potent symbol of her submission to his desires. It was a rare and beautiful sight, seeing her yield so completely to him, allowing him to take the reins and guide their shared passion to new heights.

“You did so well, baby,” she murmured, her voice finally finding its way through the haze of desire that enveloped them.

“I know,” he replied with a cocky smirk, his confidence radiating like a palpable force. “Turn around, cariño.”

Without a moment's hesitation, she acquiesced, turning to face him with a mixture of anticipation and excitement. As she shifted, she felt the heat of his body pressing against hers, his hands finding purchase at her waist before trailing down to her hips, pulling her irresistibly closer to him.

With each breath, the air between them crackled with electricity, a potent mixture of desire and anticipation that seemed to hang in the air like a tangible force. She could feel the heat of his gaze boring into her, igniting a fierce firestorm of longing deep within her core.

As their bodies melded together, every touch, every caress sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her veins, setting her aflame with a need that bordered on desperation. In that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of them, locked in a passionate embrace that transcended time and space.

With a soft gasp, she leaned into him, her body arching against his in silent invitation. And as their lips met in a searing kiss, she knew with a certainty that bordered on certainty that this moment, this connection, was something truly special

“Keep your hands back there, okay?” Carlos reminded her, his voice low and commanding.

“Yes, baby,” she responded obediently, her breath hitching with anticipation.

With deliberate care, Carlos knelt before her, his movements slow and deliberate as he reached for the zipper of her black satin skirt. His touch was gentle, reverent almost, as he teased the fabric apart, inch by tantalizing inch.

Normally, in the heat of the moment, Carlos's passion could sometimes lead to clothing casualties—ripped zippers, broken buttons—but tonight was different. Tonight, he took his time, savoring the thrill of anticipation as he slowly undid the fastenings, each movement a delicious torment that left her trembling with desire.

As the fabric pooled at her feet, he looked up at her with a hunger that mirrored her own, his eyes dark with desire.

“You're going to be quiet, right, cariño?” Carlos's voice held a hint of playful warning, his gaze locking with hers.

“I'll try but I make no promises,” she replied, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. A smirk tugged at the corners of Carlos's lips as he heard her response.

“That's right, you love making noise for me, don't you?” He teased, his tone laced with a mixture of amusement and desire. Her breath caught in her throat at his words, a flush creeping up her cheeks as she nodded in agreement.

“Yes, baby,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breathless murmur.

“Then let's see just how quiet you can be, shall we?” Carlos leaned in closer, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered.

As her underwear slipped down her legs and pooled at her ankles, Carlos wasted no time in discarding them entirely, his focus solely on the woman before him. With a hunger that burned bright in his eyes, he trailed soft, featherlight kisses along the tender flesh of her thighs, each caress igniting a firestorm of sensation that raced through her veins.

The gentle touch of his lips against her skin was enough to elicit a shiver of pleasure, her breath hitching in her throat as she surrendered to the exquisite torture of his ministrations. Without conscious thought, she spread her legs ever so slightly, a silent invitation for him to explore further.

His hands, warm and possessive, roamed freely over the smooth expanse of her thighs, tracing delicate patterns that sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her body. A soft moan escaped her lips as she threw her head back, lost in the intoxicating sensation of his touch.

“You remember the safe word?” Carlos's voice was firm, tinged with concern as he sought reassurance.

“Yes, baby,” she replied, her tone steady and unwavering.

“And, you'll stop me if it gets too much,” he pressed, his gaze searching hers for any hint of hesitation.

“Yes, baby,” she affirmed, her voice carrying a note of confidence.

“Are you certain?” His question hung in the air, a final plea for confirmation.

“You know what I like and I know my limits,” she assured him, her conviction unwavering.

“What's the safe word, baby?” Carlos's voice softened slightly, a gentle reminder of the trust that bound them together.

“Chili,” she replied without hesitation, her voice steady and sure.

“Good girl,” Carlos murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to press a tender kiss against her thigh.

The subtle defiance in her backchat ignited a primal fire within Carlos, fueling his desire to possess her completely. With each playful exchange, his arousal surged, his cock growing harder with each passing moment.

With a predatory gleam in his eyes, Carlos teased her with the lightest touch of his index finger, tracing delicate patterns along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. He reveled in the way her breath hitched in response, her body responding eagerly to his every touch.

Despite the lingering soreness from their passionate encounter the night before, she was still wet and ready for him, her arousal evident in the way her slickness coated his fingers. He savored the sensation, his cock throbbing with anticipation as he explored the depths of her desire.

“You'll stop me, cariño?” Carlos's voice held a note of urgency, his gaze locked with hers as he sought confirmation of her consent.

Though she struggled to find her voice amidst the onslaught of pleasure coursing through her, she made sure to meet his gaze with a firm nod, her eyes speaking volumes where words failed her.

Encouraged by her silent affirmation, Carlos continued his ministrations, teasing her entrance with his finger before pressing into her with deliberate intent. A soft, involuntary moan escaped her lips at the exquisite sensation of him filling her, her body responding eagerly to his touch.

Despite their previous escapades, she remained wonderfully tight, her arousal evident in the way she welcomed him with a fierce hunger that matched his own. With practiced skill, he found her clit with his thumb, the throbbing bundle of nerves already swollen and sensitive under his touch.

As he began to rub circles over her clit, her breath caught in her throat, her body arching instinctively towards him in silent plea for more. With each tantalizing stroke, he felt her arousal building, her desire spiraling higher and higher until she teetered on the edge of ecstasy, on the brink of surrendering herself entirely to the pleasure he offered.

Feeling her hands instinctively reaching out to him, Carlos paused his motions, a subtle reminder of the boundaries they had agreed upon. With a firm but gentle tone, he issued his command once more.

“Hands behind your back,” he instructed, his voice laced with authority as he sought to regain control of the situation.

Despite the surge of desire coursing through him, Carlos remained steadfast in his resolve, determined to honor the trust she had placed in him. He watched closely as she complied, her movements slow and deliberate as she obeyed his command.

As her hands found their place behind her back once more, he felt a surge of pride swell within him, a testament to the strength of their connection and the unwavering trust they shared. And with a renewed sense of purpose, Carlos resumed his motions, his touch igniting a fierce firestorm of pleasure that consumed them both in its fiery embrace.

As she gulped, a sense of frustration mingled with anticipation washed over her, the memory of her orders echoing in her mind. The desire to reach out and touch him, to feel his warmth beneath her fingertips, burned fiercely within her, but she knew that patience was key.

With each passing moment, the longing to feel his touch, to intertwine their bodies in a symphony of passion, intensified. But she held firm, reminding herself of the promise that lay just beyond her restraint.

She knew that eventually, he would grant her permission to touch him, to explore every inch of his skin with the same fervor that he showed her. And when that moment came, when she felt his hands upon her once more, she knew that it would all be worth it—the frustration, the restraint, the anticipation—everything would pale in comparison to the ecstasy of their shared embrace.

As Carlos continued his relentless assault on her clit, his movements alternating between teasing and pumping, she felt her arousal building to dizzying heights. With each stroke, each thrust of his fingers inside her, she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure, her body responding with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

Her thighs quivered with the intensity of her arousal, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she teetered on the edge of ecstasy. It wasn't long before she felt herself stretching to accommodate a second finger, the sensation pushing her even closer to the brink of release.

But even as pleasure threatened to overwhelm her, she couldn't shake the feeling of being overstimulated, of being pushed to her limits by the intensity of their encounter. It was as if something in the air, something in the very essence of Australia itself, had ignited a primal fire within them both, driving them to new heights of passion and desire.

As Carlos continued his relentless assault on her senses, her moans grew shallower, each breathy gasp a testament to the ecstasy that threatened to consume her entirely. She chased her high with single-minded determination, her body trembling with the intensity of her arousal.

“That's good, baby,” Carlos murmured, his voice a soothing presence amidst the whirlwind of sensation. “Keep your voice low.”

His words were a gentle reminder of the need for discretion, a silent agreement between them to keep their passion contained within the confines of their private sanctuary. And as she struggled to comply, to stifle the cries of pleasure threatening to spill from her lips, she felt a surge of arousal coursing through her veins, driving her ever closer to the brink of release.

Sensing her arousal reaching a fever pitch, Carlos knew that she was on the brink of release. With a mix of restraint and desire, he withdrew his fingers, a sudden absence of his touch leaving her gasping for more.

The abrupt lack of sensation sent a jolt of longing coursing through her body, her hips instinctively arching towards him in search of the pleasure she so desperately craved. She whimpered softly, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to cope with the sudden emptiness inside her.

“Baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a potent mix of desire and need.

With a reassuring smile, Carlos met her gaze, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

“Don't worry, cariño,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the ache of longing that pulsed through her veins. “I'm not done with you yet.”

As Carlos stood before her, shedding his race suit and fireproofs with deliberate precision, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of him. With each movement, his toned muscles flexed and rippled beneath his skin, his body a testament to the physical demands of their sport.

Her breath caught in her throat as his cock sprang free, solid and throbbing with arousal, the sight of him sending a jolt of desire coursing through her veins. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry with anticipation, knowing all too well the intensity of his desire to claim her.

This was what she had been expecting when he took the lead of the race—the raw, primal need that burned bright in his eyes, the insatiable hunger that drove him to seek out her touch with a desperation that bordered on madness.

With deliberate care, Carlos pulled her up onto the massage table, positioning himself between her legs with a primal hunger burning in his eyes. He kissed her with a tender urgency, savoring the taste of her lips against his own, before slowly entering her, inch by agonizing inch.

As he filled her, stretching her to accommodate his size, he could feel her walls clenching around him, her body instinctively adjusting to the intimate intrusion. Sensing her need for a moment to acclimate, he paused, his gaze locked with hers as he watched the myriad of emotions flicker across her face.

Her eyes were closed in blissful surrender, her lips parted in a silent plea for more. And in that moment, Carlos felt a surge of pride and desire swell within him, completely infatuated by the woman who had offered herself so completely to him.

With a smirk of satisfaction, he resumed his slow, steady thrusts, each movement driving them both closer to the edge of ecstasy. In this intimate dance of passion, there was no need for words—their bodies spoke a language of their own, a symphony of pleasure and desire that echoed through the dimly lit room.

“Carlos, baby, you need to move, please,” she pleaded, her voice laced with urgency as she yearned for the friction and rhythm only he could provide.

“So desperate for me, huh?” Carlos teased, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he reveled in the intensity of her need.

“I need it, baby. Please,” she implored, her words a desperate plea for release as her body thrummed with anticipation.

Carlos's breathy chuckle mingled with the symphony of their shared passion as he began to move, his movements slow and deliberate at first, building momentum with each thrust. He could feel her body responding eagerly to his touch, her moans growing louder with each passing moment.

As she fought to contain her urges, to resist the overwhelming need to grasp him and hold him close, Carlos felt a surge of arousal stir in his groin. The sound of her moans, the sight of her writhing beneath him in pleasure, ignited a primal fire within him, driving him to new heights of desire.

With each increase in speed, he felt himself completely filling her up, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony as they surrendered themselves to the ecstasy of the moment.

Feeling her hands being guided beneath her belly button, she opened her eyes, curiosity flickering in their depths as she glanced down to see what Carlos was doing. As he pressed her hands into her lower abdomen, she felt a slight movement beneath her fingertips, a sensation that sent a shiver of pleasure coursing through her body.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp as she adjusted to the feeling, her senses overwhelmed by the intimate connection between them.

“You feel that?” His words hung in the air between them, heavy with raw desire and a primal intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yeah,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, her body quivering with pleasure at the sensation of him deep inside her.

“That's me fucking deep inside you,” Carlos murmured, his voice thick with arousal as he reveled in the intimate connection they shared.

As Carlos positioned her hands on his shoulders, a surge of anticipation raced through her veins, her body trembling with the intensity of their shared desire. With a primal urgency, he began to thrust, each movement hard and rapid, driving her to the brink of ecstasy with each powerful motion.

Some of his thrusts caused her to flinch, the sensation of him filling her completely both thrilling and overwhelming. She could feel herself bruising all over again, the reminder of their previous night's passion adding to the intensity of the moment. Yet despite the ache, despite the slight sting of pain, it all felt too good to resist.

And then, as pleasure surged through her body like a tidal wave, she came undone, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of her release. Her body shook with the force of her climax, every nerve ending alight with ecstasy as she surrendered herself completely to the pleasure coursing through her veins.

Her hands searched for some grip on his skin, fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders as she held on for dear life, leaving scratches in her wake. And as she reached the peak of her pleasure, she felt Carlos tensing beneath her, his own release imminent.

With one final, primal cry, he came inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release as they rode out the waves of pleasure together.

As Carlos continued to thrust through her orgasm, a primal need drove him to push their pleasure to new heights. With a surge of determination, he pulled out and spun her around, his movements swift and purposeful as he positioned her upper body onto the massage table and spread her legs wide.

She clung to the table for support, her body trembling with a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation as Carlos resumed his thrusts. With each powerful motion, she fought to keep her legs steady, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their shared desire.

But as pleasure built once more, she began to feel a twinge of pain, a nagging ache that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. Unsure whether it was the position or if her body had reached its limits, she pushed through, determined to chase her pleasure to its ultimate climax.

And then, just as she felt a second orgasm approaching, Carlos hit a particular spot that sent a jolt of pain shooting through her body, causing her legs to wobble beneath her. In that moment, she realized that her body had reached its breaking point, her pleasure giving way to the sharp sting of discomfort.

As she whispered the safe word, “Chili,” her voice barely above a breathless murmur, Carlos's movements faltered, a flicker of concern crossing his features. But with the intensity of their passion clouding his senses, her words went unheard as he continued thrusting, lost in the heat of the moment.

“Chili, chili,” she repeated, her voice growing slightly louder in a desperate plea for him to stop.

Sensing her distress, Carlos's instincts kicked in, and almost immediately, he ceased his movements and pulled out, his expression shifting from desire to concern. With the cum oozing out of her, a silent testament to their shared pleasure, Carlos turned her around and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to steady her trembling form.

“Are you okay, cariño?” Carlos's voice was filled with concern as he held her close, his arms a comforting presence around her trembling form.

She didn't answer immediately, her mind still reeling from the shock of having to use the safe word for the first time. She had never asked him to stop before, but the pain had become too much to bear.

“I'm fine, it just hurt a bit,” she finally replied, her voice soft and slightly strained as she tried to downplay the discomfort she was feeling.

Carlos's expression softened with understanding as he held her tighter, his heart aching at the thought of causing her any pain. With gentle hands, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch a silent apology for pushing her beyond her limits.

“I'm sorry, cariño,” he murmured, his voice filled with regret. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Carlos fetched a towel and gently cleaned her up, his heart weighed heavy with guilt for pushing her past her limits. With each tender touch, he was careful not to overstimulate her further, his movements slow and deliberate as he wiped away the remnants of their passion.

Once she was cleaned up, he helped her back onto the massage table, his touch gentle and reassuring as he helped her put her panties and skirt back on. She was exhausted from the episode, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of their encounter, and he could see the fatigue etched into her features.

With a pang of remorse, Carlos watched as she lay down, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she tried to regain her composure. He knew that she needed time to rest and recuperate, to recover from the intensity of their shared experience.

He cleaned himself up and changed into his casual clothes and kept stealing glances at her, his heart heavy with worry. But with each reassuring word she spoke, each gentle touch she offered, he felt a small measure of relief wash over him.

She was fine. She reassured him of that fact time and time again. And as he settled down beside her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close, he knew that he was the one person she trusted more than anyone else in the world.

Carlos kissed her gently, his touch a soothing balm against the ache of her body and soul, she felt a sense of safety and comfort wash over her. In his arms, she found solace from the storm of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm her, her fears and doubts melting away beneath the warmth of his love.

With each caress of her cheek, each tender gesture, Carlos reaffirmed his devotion to her, his love a beacon of light in the darkness of their shared struggles. She knew that despite the momentary pain, she was safe with him, cherished and adored beyond measure.

Wrapped in his embrace, she felt a sense of peace settle over her, a quiet calm that whispered of better days to come. For in his arms, she found not only love, but strength—the strength to face whatever challenges lay ahead, knowing that together, they could overcome anything.

She was and always would be addicted to him, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. But she also knew her limits, understood the importance of self-care and self-preservation. And as she nestled closer to him, surrendering herself to the warmth of his embrace, she knew that no matter what trials they faced, they would face them together, bound by a love that knew no bounds.

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nottsbitch · 19 days

Text

Right Here, Right Now - T.N.

Based on that one high school musical 3 scene

✩✩✩✩

As Theo Nott touched down on the pitch, the roar of the Slytherin crowd was deafening. The victory was complete: Slytherin had won the House Cup. Theo’s teammates surged towards him, lifting him high into the air in celebration. The thrill of triumph and the smell of victory filled the crisp evening air.

Hours later, the excitement had shifted from the Quidditch pitch to the Nott residence, where the grand celebration was in full swing. Music and laughter echoed through the opulent halls as students, family, and friends gathered to honor the win. The house was alive with the energy of the Slytherin spirit, with food, drinks, and a great deal of revelry.

Meanwhile, Theo and Matteo were nowhere to be seen. The two friends had found themselves in a less glamorous situation: Theo’s truck had broken down on their way to the party. The situation had quickly escalated from a minor inconvenience to a near disaster, as the truck stubbornly refused to start.

“Keep pushing. You better be pushing!” Theo yelled, his breath visible in the chilly night air as he strained against the vehicle.

“I’m pushing!” Matteo shouted back, his frustration evident. Theo’s truck was heavy and unwieldy, and the prospect of missing out on the party was adding to his exasperation.

“Push harder!” Theo urged, his voice a mix of determination and amusement. They were almost there, just a few more steps from the Nott residence.

Finally, with one last effort, they managed to roll the truck to the edge of the driveway. Theo leaned against the truck, panting and smiling with relief. “Home sweet home,” he said, grinning as he glanced at Matteo.

Matteo gave him a flat look, clearly annoyed. “I’m saving for a new one,” Theo said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh-huh, save faster,” Matteo muttered before turning on his heel and heading towards the house, eager to join the festivities.

Theo watched as Matteo disappeared into the party, and with a resigned sigh, he trudged towards the entrance. The contrast between the chaotic scene outside and the lively celebration inside couldn’t have been starker. As he walked in, he was greeted by cheers and claps on the back from his friends and family.

Despite the rough start, the party was as vibrant as expected. Theo joined the crowd, accepting congratulations and high-fives. His friends, including Enzo and others, were animatedly discussing the match and their victory.

As Theo navigated through the party, searching for you amidst the sea of well-wishers, he was momentarily lost in the whirlwind of congratulations. He stopped briefly to exchange pleasantries and thank the well-meaning crowd, but his focus remained on finding you.

When he finally spotted you on the dance floor with Pansy Parkinson, he felt a surge of relief. He made his way over, a genuine smile spreading across his face. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"Hey," Theo greeted, his voice filled with a mix of joy and exhaustion. "Congratulations, Mr. MVP."

You grinned up at him. "Thanks! Can I fix you a plate?" Even in the midst of the celebration, Theo's thoughtfulness shone through.

"I'll take one of everything" You smiled

"What are we celebrating something?" Theo chuckled, the warmth of your smile making the stress of the day seem almost worth it. Before he could say more, Adrian Pucey swooped in, grabbing Theo's arm.

"What's up, dude? Back-to-back champions, baby!" Pucey exclaimed, his excitement mirroring Theo's earlier exuberance.

Theo was about to respond when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. His father had arrived, ushering him towards a distinguished-looking man who introduced himself as a scout for a professional Quidditch team.

"Let me tell you, that teamwork I saw tonight and the dedication from you, Nott—that's the kind of player I’m looking for," the scout said, his tone sincere.

Theo thanked the man, his mind racing with the possibilities as he tried to process the unexpected opportunity. He turned to find you again, but the crowd had shifted, and he was momentarily disoriented.

Just as he was about to resume his search for you, Pucey stopped him once more, this time with a curious look. “Hey man, great house,” he said, then paused. “Your room? Wicked cool.”

Theo blinked, slightly taken aback. “Oh, thanks, man. Wait, you were in my room?”

"Well yeah I just took a picture... I'm doing mine the same way" He smiled like it was completely normal before pulling out his camera and taking a picture with Theo. The flash confusing him even more then he already was.

Before he could respond Pucey was talking again "Dude we should hang out tonight, Get to know each other"

"yeah sure, I just have to grab the house cup I left it in my truck." Theo thought quickly of a way that he could get away from Pucey.

"Oh dude don't worry I'm on it" And with that he ran off, leaving Theo alone once again and brininging him back to his search.

✩✩✩✩

Theo’s treehouse, tucked away in the branches of an old oak tree, was a nostalgic retreat from the bustling party below. The evening sky was awash with twilight hues, casting a gentle glow over the scene. Theo led you up the wooden ladder with a mix of excitement and nervousness, keen to share this personal space with someone special.

As you reached the top and stepped into the cozy, somewhat cluttered room, you were greeted by the familiar smell of pine and the faint scent of old books. The space was adorned with old Quidditch memorabilia, photographs, and sketches—evidence of the countless hours Theo had spent up here as a child.

“So, another top-secret hiding place,” you said, slipping your hand into his and looking around with interest.

Theo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a mix of pride and nostalgia. “You’re the second girl I’ve ever brought up here,” he said, his voice softening as he met your gaze.

You raised an eyebrow playfully. “The first?”

“The first was my mom,” he said, pausing to see your reaction. When you elbowed him gently, he continued, “And she only climbed up here to get me down when I got stuck.”

Both of you burst into laughter, the sound echoing softly in the quiet, serene space.

“Well, I’m honored,” you said, taking in the view of the Nott estate. “This place is so cool.”

“Yeah, my dad and I built it together,” Theo said, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “It’s been a special place for me.”

You nodded, glancing over at him. “Is that the coach from the pro team who he hasn't stopped talking about in weeks?”

“The very same,” Theo said, a note of amazement in his voice. “He’s here at my house tonight. It’s surreal.”

“I bet he’s already got your name on a jersey,” you teased.

“That’s always been my dad’s dream,” Theo said, his tone filled with warmth. “He’s been so supportive and I know he's proud .”

“I’m proud of you too,” you added softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Theo’s expression grew contemplative. “The thing about going pro is…”

He was cut off by you both speaking at once. “I’ll be 1,000 miles away.”

Theo stopped, his gaze fixed on you. “It feels like this year is flying by.”

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh, “I wish it would slow down, at least for a little while.”

Theo took a deep breath, looking around the treehouse as if trying to hold on to the moment. “Well, at least we have right now.”

“That’s true,” you agreed, leaning closer.

“And right here, right now,” Theo said, his voice soft and earnest, “I’m looking at you, and my heart loves the view.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of affection. “That was pretty cheesy.”

“I know,” Theo said, grinning sheepishly. “But I meant every word.”

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of contentment and connection in the quiet intimacy of the treehouse. The party below seemed like a distant memory, replaced by the shared moment between the two of you.

Theo leaned in, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lantern hanging above. “I’m glad we could share this moment together.”

“Me too,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as you leaned in closer. “It’s been a night to remember.”

As you two leaned in and shared a slow kiss the winning fireworks were set off in the back. Perfect timing.

As the party below carried on, the sounds of celebration drifting up to the treehouse, Theo and you were content in the knowledge that, despite the uncertainties of the future, you had each other and a memory that would last long after the night was over.

✩✩✩✩

This was kind of hard to write at the end because I didn't want them breaking out into song.

#harry potter #theo nott #matteo riddle #slytherin boys #tom riddle #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #slytherin #hp universe #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott fic #theo nott x y/n #Spotify

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myladysapphire · 2 months

Text

The Dragon and the Wolf

Epilouge

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 2,212

CW: MDI, 18+, refrences to pregenacy, miscariges stillbirths and death, happy ending! lots of fluff (all the bad tags where small and lead to a very fluff, not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part |

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: this epilouge is largely based of cregan starks wiki page, thats why they have a hell of a lot of kids. find it here.

Cregan Stark had been many things, the lord of Winterfell, warden of the north, hand of the king. But most importantly he had been your husband. Married for 66 years before your death in 200 AC,

Your marriage with filled with tragedy and triumphs, but most importantly love.

A love that inspired songs, poems and stories.

Though you and he had your ups and downs, he stayed by your side during your worst and your best times.

And even after years of struggling, years of sadness and tears as your moons blood came, you and he ended with ten children to call your own.

First there had been Rickon, followed by Saera, Alys and Rhaeya, then Mariah, Jacearys, Edric, Lyanna, Lucerys and finally Brandon.

The birth of each of your children had filled your halls and your heart, the ache you had felt after the war had finally been filled, and you had felt whole once more.

You had found the happiness you had been chasing and felt contentment and happiness more and more each and every day.

Your love for each other continued to bloom and grow, love so deep that Cregan himself passed only moons after you, your son Jaceaerys, know as Jace ‘one eye’, becoming the lord of Winterfell after his death, though it was your youngest son Brandon that the stark line continued from.

Your legacy was one that would be remembered even a hundred years after your death, songs were still sung in your honour, halls and castle erected in your name, there was even a castle built in your honour on the wall, after your help in the victory against Sylas the grim.

But where your legacy blossomed still was within the walls of Winterfell, where your kin ruled to this day.

“we have Targaryen ancestry, or one ancestor to be precise” Ned Stark spoke to his children, as he walked them down the crypts of Winterfell.

He speak your name, bowing in respect as he approached your statue, your stood beside your husband Cregan Stark, your hands adjoined in a symbol of your love, a love that had become famous amongst the pages of history.

“she was the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Veleryon, the last rider of Silverwing and the last dragon rider in history. “

Sansa seemed giddy as she looked at her, her ancestor a Targaryen princess.

“did she fight in the dance of the dragons?” Jon asked, looking at his ancestors, noting the similarity in your features with his.

“aye, though she played the role of a diplomat more than a fighter, but she is too thank for several victories, even after the war she helped defend the north against wildings”

His children gasped in surprise, eagerly listening to their father recount the tales of you and your legacy.

“did any of her children have dragons?” Jon asked eagerly.

“aye, each child was given an egg, though only two hatched” he looked to the left towards were your children statues stood, “the ones belonging to Lord Jacearys and Lucerys, named after her brothers” he looked down to Jon, the most egar to here of his ancestors, “though it was said they died and grew no larger than cats“

A sound of disappointment left Jon at the news.

“is it true they were so in love that he died of a broken heart after her death?” Sansa asked.

Ned chuckled, “it was said he did, aye”

Sansa let out a small squealed, “imagine being so in love you can’t bare to live in a world without them” she gushed.

“aye, there love is famous” he said looking up at his ancestors.

“can any of you tell me about their children?

Robb raised his hand enthusiastically, “they had ten in total, though it was their second son Jaceaerys, named after her brother who died in the dance who succeeded Cregan…he then died with no children and was succeeded by Lucerys also named after one of her brothers whose death started the dance of dragons”

“very good Robb…but who succeeded Lucerys?”

“there youngest child, Brandon, who we are descended from” Arya spoke up, as she gazed at the sword at your hip. “was she trained with a sword?” she asked eagerly.

“most likely, she was a fighter, a warrior though most accounts was due to her fighting on the back of silver wing, it was said she killed several men who insulted her brother, King Aegon III and was known to have fought several who questioned her mother, Rhaenyra being a legitimate queen.”

Arya seemed very please with this response, as did Robb and Jon as they admired their 4x great grandmother.

At the feet of their statues laid 3 dragon eggs, long turned to stone, and though neither of them noticed at first, as Ned light the lights surrounding their statues, behind them sat the skull of Silverwing.

A reminder of house Targaryen, and their power even now years after they had been defeated and banished.

And though you had become a stark you were forever remembered in house Targaryen, with your named reused countless times, a holdfast in the red keep named after you, and gardens throughout Westeros grew a rose named after you.

But whilst you had grown a legacy and left an indent on the history of Westeros, you had not lived to do so.

Your life had been one you had ended up devoting to your family, to love and happiness, no care if your section of the history books was a long one or not.

The first five years of your marriage where the one filled with the most hurdles to cross, with fertility issues and you suffering from depression, it truly tested your marriage but the day your eldest Rickon was born, was the day your life truly became filled with Joy.

Your pregnancy had been spent bed bound to nervous to venture out of it for fear of another miscarriage.

Cregan had moved his office to your shared chambers, insisting on spending every moment you would allow with him. His days spent with you, his meals shared with you in bed, he only left when necessary and even then, he was racing back to be with you.

The birth had scared him, his mind remembering the last birth, how you had laboured for hours knowing full well the babe was already dead.

But this time the babe was perfect, a healthy boy you named Rickon after his father.

You watched him grow and as the years passed more children followed, each and every one of them filling your life with more and more love.

You and Cregan grew inseparable, your duties becoming one as you both ruled Winterfell together.

And after fifteen years of marriage, and the birth of you first five children, Rickon, Saera and Alys, Rhaeya and Mariah, your brothers came to Winterfell on their tour of Westeros.

Aegon and Viserys both married with children of their own were more than happy to see you again, years of letters making up for little of how much you missed your brothers.

“Aegon, Viserys” you greeted as you they rode into Winterfell with the pride and fancy house Targaryen always brought.

“sister” they greeted, coming straight towards you, their boyish looks still in full effect despite being adults in their own right, “I have missed you”

“no more than I have missed you” you replied before introducing your family and household to your brothers.

Your sons and daughters presenting themselves proudly, with your daughter Saera pointing out the similarities between herself and her cousin Daena, they could practically be twins. In both looks and nature.

They caused many a problem during their time in Winterfell, with many pranks and havocked caused as they spent their days freeing horses or practicing with Sareas crossbow, shooting apples above servants heads.

Your eldest Rickon spent most of his time with Daeron, many time spent in the courtyard, sparring or exploring the dragon nest Silverwing had left upon her most recent return from Winterfell.

You watched as your children created bonds with their cousins, bonds that would stick even after the tour. Letters exchanged and your sons Jacearys and Lucerys being sent to ward in Kings Landing.

And whilst they were here your sons Jacearys and Lucerys eggs hatched, small dragons, the first dragons born in near ten years.

Jace’s dragon, a soft shade of white shade, easily blending into the snow. He had named the dragon sōna, the Valyrian word for snow. And though the history books would mark him to be as big as a small housecat, he in truth grew to be the size of a dire wolf, and though not big enough to take a rider on his back, he was known to fly the walls of Winterfell before his death, after falling victim to a stray arrow during one of house starks monthly hunts.

Lukes’s dragon had been named icefyre, he had claimed it was who he was, a merge of ice a fire and so was his dragon. With silver scales and a blue flame, similar to the blue flame of your uncle Daeron’s dragon Tesserion. He too grew to the size of a dire wolf, before accompany Luke south to Kingslanding, ending up on Dragonstone where she was killed by the now wild dragon, Sunfyre.

And though when the tour ended, after being extended moons, with neither side wanting to part from the other, the sadness and regret you felt before when leaving your brothers was no longer, as you where more than happy with the family you had in Winterfell. No longer did you dream of the ghosts of your family, wishing them alive, but now you saw them reborn as each of your children.

In Rickon you saw Jace, he was noble and kind, the perfect future lord. And you saw even more of Jace in him as he died fighting alongside his cousin Daeron, after he had been named king and set to conquer Dorne. Dying before his time, a hero’s death.

In Saera, you saw your mother, Rhaenyra. A fierce and defiant girl, egar and pride. She was smart and quick and though as time passed and you began to forget the faces of those you lost, however you looked at Sarea, you saw your mother.

In Alys you saw Joffrey, shy and kind but egar to prove herself. Going out of her way to prove her loyalty and her devotion to house Stark.

In Rhaeya, you saw your grandmother, Rhaneys. Though she was named in honour of bother her mother and grandmother, her grandmothers laugh, and smile shined through in your girl. She was always riding, though a horse not a dragon, she was a warrior in her own right, fighting in the conquest of Dorne, though she eventually chooses to sheath her sword after she found love in the son of Benjicot Blackwood.

Then there was Mariah, sweet Mariah reminded you of Rhaena, though alive and well with six daughters of her own, she reminded you in every way of your sister. With a fierce heart, hidden behind a sweet temperament.

Jace, who had become Jace one eye at the age of six and ten after an arrow pierced his eye during the conquest of Dorne, he reminded you of you uncle Aemond, before the cruelty took over him. He was determined and fierce, though hidden behind a shy demeaner.

Edric, was the very image of Daemon. Though Stark in looks he was the rouge of her stepfather, careless and wanton, so much so he died before all of his siblings after fighting and loosing a duel against the man who would later marry his sister Lyanna, Lynol Tyrell.

Lyanna, Was you. You looked at her and saw yourself, a girl born out of love, a girl desiring love more than anything in the world. A girl who would fight for what she believed in, no matter the cost.

Lucerys, of cause reminded you of Luke in every way he was your sweet younger brother. In looks and nature he was Luke reborn.

The Brandon, your youngest child, a big age gap, born near ten years after Luke. He seemed to be the image of your husband, fierce and wise, a good lord. Though often driven my lust.

Your legacy was fierce, your blood spread through Westeros as you were remembered in the page of history books for all to read.

“the dance of the dragons” Daenerys read, as she was gifted a book of the history of her family.

“not just the dance, Princess” spoke Ilyrio Mopatis. “this book tells the story of your Ancestor” he spoke your name, and printed out the portrait of you that covered the first page inside.

“A whole book dedicated to one ancestor?” Viserys scoffed, “what was she a conqueror?”

“in some ways” Ilyrio started, “she was a key player in the dance, without her diplomacy the war could have been much longer than it had been”

“Really?” Viserys asked sceptically.

“indeed, read for yourself My prince”

And so they read your tale, and you where once more brough back to life.

taglist

@aleemendoza2425-blog @apollonshootafar @zillahvathek @flrboyd @theanxietyqueen17 @leavesmealobe @dark-night-sky-99 @deeeeexx @valyriantargaryenblood-blog @winter-soldier-101 @bunbunblogsblog @clobobo @raynetargaryen2 @justbelljust @sukunassfinger

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to be added to taglist for my other works

#house of the dragon #hotd #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark imagine #cregan stark x reader #cregan fanfiction #cregan x you #house stark

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oneshotnewbie · 3 months

Text

𝐆𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫

𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑥 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐴𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 "𝐺𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟". 𝐷𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑢𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑢𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ♥

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛 𝐹𝐵𝐼 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑗𝑜𝑏 𝑏𝑦 𝑖𝑡𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑑𝑚𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑟. 𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This chapter includes the topic of stalking and some swearing. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Your head was already hurting the morning before you got on the jet back to Quantico. Throbbing pressure in your temples and stiffness in your neck after a strenuous mission was common. Nevertheless, the failure and the resulting frustration largely gnawed at you and increased the additional pain.

You could not believe such a wrong game had been played with the entire crew. As soon as you arrived in Michigan and the encounter of the local police, they lusted after a dying gazelle like a horde of scavengers. The chief police commissioner was only out for triumph in making headlines, rather than catching the perpetrator, focusing on the victim and their survival.

All the information and files created were unsorted and a sheer disaster, taking you numerous hours to rummage through and filter out the most important points for Spencer and you. Forensics had not photographed the body from every angle and even moved it beforehand, so there was no original picture showing the woman in the position where she was found. All the evidence was flawed and incomplete.

Nevertheless, you managed to create a profile that was most suitable and customized for the murderer. Based on your profiling and the plots of the murders, it was quickly determined that notorious serial killer Jacob Sykes was involved.

For the past five years, the FBI has been frantically searching for him after he went into hiding. Sykes had seventeen women between the ages of 20 and 35 on his conscience, with whom he always acted the same way. Raping and killing them with short, straight cuts on both sides of the neck at the main arteries before dumping the bodies near children´s playgrounds.

The number of reporters at each crime scene was exceptional and nothing you had ever seen before. They ignored the distance behind the tape and disrupted the collection of evidence with screams or angry shouts. The press did not hold back on comment, leaving a bitter smack of tasteless speculations and insults directed at the BAU.

It took an immense amount of self-restraint for you to get the press to walk away without getting physical.

"Hey, how is your head?" lost in thought, you were startled by the suddenly appearing voice. Looking up from your paperwork with slight irritation, you launched a half-hearted smile at the figure, who has flopped down in the seat across from you and held out a water to you.

You hid yourself in the back corner of the plane on purpose, making yourself small to isolate yourself from the rest of the group. You just wanted your peace so as not to transfer a bad mood on your team but your best friend did not let herself be shaken off. Never.

Emily knew you were particularly struggling with the case. Five months after joining the BAU, you first heard about it from Rossi and have been obsessed with solving it ever since. Why was uncertain, but disgust was written all over your face every time his name came up.

"As if someone had taken my brain out and replaced it with jagged rocks"

"What do you think of pizza at my place after we call it a day? Would probably do you some good," she grinned at you while you gratefully accepted the water and the painkiller, which she also held out to you.

Actually, it was clear to you that you wanted to crawl into your own bed after the harsh days and sleep until you woke up on your own. But you could not refuse anything that she wanted from you and so you agreed.

"I am in, but please give me a moment alone," the black-haired agent nodded and locked her eyes with yours, silently and dreamy before caressing your cheek tenderly and getting up to go back to her seat.

"Y/n," she managed let a tentatively whisper past her lips. You carefully turned your head back in her direction, letting your chin rest on the palm of your hand while waiting for what she had to say. "We will land in a few minutes. Make sure to take everything with you"

ᕚ---ᕘ

While the whole team walked through the hallways of the BAU to the elevators, you hurriedly ran up the stairs to the second floor, where your shared office was. You hated elevators. They were too narrow and it was understandable that you did not trusted the squeaky mechanism of the cables. Also, you felt uncomfortable between the metallic walls of the cabin.

You were always faster than everyone else when you took the stairs anyway.

Two other agents opened the big glass doors before you entered the office; all emotion draining from your face. You stopped strictly in the middle of the office and ran a hand through your hair in confusion. You stared at your desk in silence, not quite sure how to react to that.

"What´s that crap?" you barked your question to Morgan and Reid, whose footsteps and chatter you could already hear behind you, irritated. They, who entered the office´s right behind you with the girls shortly after, were slightly startled by your angry voice. Everyone looked at you questioningly before you pushed aside and allowed them to look at your workspace, which was covered with flowers and chocolates. "Did one of you pranksters order this before we left? That is not funny"

"Seems you have a secret admirer," your work colleague proudly walked over to you in amusement and laughed as he gave you a slight punch on the shoulder. Morgan lifted the bouquet of bright red roses up while JJ grabbed the box of heart shaped pralines and disappeared to her desk.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and buried your arms under your chest. You watched intently as Derek looked at each rose from all sides and tugged at one to pull a white envelope from the thorny stems. "Someone left you a note. Read it!"

"Can you guys stop meddling in private things?"

"They can not, Em. It is their damn job," fed up with today, you snatched the little card out of Spencer´s hand, which he was holding out to you and fiddled at the little heart sticker that kept the whole thing locked. Before you got the little piece of paper out it´s packaging, you looked intently at the two boys who were standing at Emily´s desk, grinning. "If that is a shitty joke by either of you, I will kill you."

As your gaze got lost in the individual letters and the maze of scrambled words spiraled into a text, your jaw dropped to the floor. Disgusted and confused, you felt your heartbeat spread through your body. Blood pounded in your ears and your mouth went dry.

In a haze, you turned your head vigorously in every possible direction. The world spun around you, scanning the entire office for suspicious people who might be looking at you, wanting to catch the moment of a first reaction to their message.

"Y/n, is everything okay?"

Your gaze quickly wandered in the direction of the black haired. "No," you answered shakily and she was able to filter the strange tone of anxiety and fear out of your voice immediately. Emily´s eyes were fixed squarely on you, her eyebrows raised high while her lips pressed into a thin line.

Approaching you, she lowered her glance to the card you were squeezing tightly in your fist. With her fingers, she pinched the last corner that was sticking out and genly pulled it out of your palm so as not to accidentely cut you.

It was to be expected that she would read the letter aloud in front of your team. As she did so, you drew closer to her private space, no longer feeling secure. You nervously stroked the goosebumps on your bare arm and followed every movement that happened around you while racking your brain for a clue as to who this might have been but came up short.

"One study found out that in random samples, the lifetime prevalance of being a victim of stalking is 11.6% and rising. Women are affected up to 6% more than men," the words flowed from Spencer´s mouth. A small voice in his head rebuked him, but he resolutely brushed it aside.

Sooner or later, you would be faced with another gift from the unknown person so it did not help to wrap you in cotton wool.

"Does not help, Reid!" as suspected, none of the teammates standing around you were happy with this fact, but more like fire and flame. You were the youngest on the team and automatically unleashed a protective instinct in every single person.

"I will tell Hotch," JJ immediately tossed the chocolates in the trash can, glad she had not began to eat any of them yet. Maybe they were poisoned or laced with some deadly substance meant to hit you. With a quick walk, she disappeared up the stairs and walked straight to Aaron Hotchner´s office to inform him of the incident in great detail.

"And I will take this to forensics. Maybe they can salvage some fingerprint so we can catch the bastard and I can-" Morgan kept his remarks extra vague so as not to completely upset you. But it was already too late for that.

You were beyond insecure.

The answer from the unit chief about further actions was not long in coming and appeared a few minutes later in form of a briefing. The message to the team was very short, telling everyone that they would have to wait for the forensic evaluation, but that you still needed to be kept under surveillance.

"We can not just ditch it and wait," Derek shrugged in frustration as he complained about the lack of action. His arms were tightly crossed behind his head, staring intently at Hotch. When it came to you, he tended to be quite protective, almost like a big brother, and the unit chief understood him, really. You were his responsibility. "The guy is talking about her perfume in detail. He is around"

Unfortunately, Aaron could not contradict the statement, but it annoyed him not to know what else he could do. He had no traces. Nothing of any importance. The only thing that promised a little beginning was the shop from which the flowers had been sent by courier, which might offer a promising clue.

"Prentiss, Morgan. Drive to Achara Florist on Richmond Highway, the flowers were ordered from there. See if you can find out anything about whoever placed the order," both nodded in agreement and slid back with their chair to get up. The individual documtens that they had placed in front of them until recently, were stacked in the middle of the table before they left the room. "Hotch, what can I do?"

"You are staying. As long as we do not know in which direction this is going, you are safest here,"

"But that is my.. whatever. I should be there. After all, I am the only one who this stuff is dedicated to!" you scolded while helping JJ sort the papers into a file and put the chairs back at the table. You knew Aaron was just as concerned as anyone and preferred a safe option; you were in no good constitution to talk him into changing his plan now.

It was useless.

He gave you a warning look that silenced you. Snorting, you handed the last papers to the blonde and looked demonstratively back in his direction. It was not a comfortable silence that stood beween you, but better than bickering with your chief.

Without a word, you turned away and left the conference room. The case was nerve-wracking enough and dealing with a weird guy who seemed to have been watching you for a long time was pushing your limits so you used the path to your desk trying to cool yourself off.

ᕚ---ᕘ

A gentle dance of two fingers on your shoulders snapped you out of your daydreams and made you startle in your chair. You had been absorbed in the case of Jacob Sykes for hours. Well, actually you only pretended to work hard on it.

You had been shuffling files, moving them from pile to pile and made some drawing that had absolutely nothing to do with the case. Totally bored, tired and with your thoughts somewhere else, you were ready to just go home and forget the days events.

But you had to wait until you could mark the day as over.

"Nice doodle. Desk work is no fun, huh?" Morgan asked, snatching the piece of paper away from you all while walking through the aisle of your individual desks to his. "No, but do you like my drawing? The thing should represent you" you asked back and he gave you a confused but smirking look as he lowered down on his chair.

"Hm," he said, staring at you until you averted your gaze and looked at the raven haired. Her leather jacket was slightly soaked, her straightened hair had turned into loose, frizzy curls, although the weather forecast had predicted a sunny day.

This was a welcome change as there had been an uninterrupted heat build-up since Monday last week, making it impossible for you to concentrate on any work. Not that you did not like the sun, but you liked rain a lot more.

"Did you find out anything?" you leaned back in the chair and tilted your head, resting the back of your head on her midsection. The addressed just shook her head and gently brushed a lost strand of hair from your forehead. "The shop was already closed when we arrived. We left out contacts there, hopefully we will get an answer tomorrow"

You closed your eyes with a sigh. Your frustration was clearly visible on your face. Emily waited for a few seconds but you did not reply to her answer. She knew you wanted to mumble something back and curse.

"You can all go home," you looked around, slightly frightened, and tried to find the voice of the male figure in the much too large office until you got stuck on the railing of the first floor. Aaron Hotchner stood alone on the narrow balcony-like platform and looked down at his team. "There is nothing more we can do today"

It had not surprised him in the least that you did tried to get out of the FBI building the quickest and that you did succeeded in the end. You did not need to be told twice. Jumping out of your seat, you packed up your stuff swiftly and almost ran out the office, but not without giving JJ a hastily big hug.

Laughter broke out and Emily had closed her eyes, shook her head and obviously resisted the urge to roll her eyes before trying to catch up to you. Aaron did not mind, he already noticed the tiredness and tension on your face this afternoon, which had worsened with the passage of time.

ᕚ---ᕘ

"Hey Serg," you greeted the black cat, who jumped off the scratching post and reared up in front of you with expectant eyes as only cats can and made the appropriate noises, showing you that he was happy. Even before you stepped into the hallways behind the young agent, he snuggled up to your lower leg and made you smile. "Aw, did you miss me?"

While Emily disappeared into the bedroom to get rid of her wet clothes, you sat cross-legged on the floor and dealt with the young cat, who meanwhile began to purr loudly under your touch. He enjoyed the closeness and absorbed any negative feelings you felt that day.

As if in a small bubble, you forgot everything around you and only noticed the vibrating of his small body under your palm and the gentle tapping of his paws on your jeans. His fur was fluffier and softer than usual as he snuggled up to your outstretched hand, gently scratching behind his ear. "Unbelieveable!"

You heard the black haired bleating and looked up at her as she almost jealousy leaned against the door frame. She was now dressed in sweatpants and a simple black top, which subtly emphasized the muscles in her upper arms. These were locked tightly under her chest, her lips curled into a soft pout. "He gets more attention from you than me. And he is a cat!"

You giggled and shook your head before you took him in your arms and stood up carefully. Sergio mewed softly as you cradled him in one of your arms like a baby and nudged his nose in amusement. Slowly taking your shoes off with your heels, you walked over to Emily while being busy scratching the cat´s white belly.

You glanced at the taller woman as you invaded her personal space and watched her get visibly more tense and nervous. A mischievous grin spread across your lips, carefully hiking your eyebrows. "Purr for me like a kitten and you will get all the attention you want," you winked at her, smirking widely.

She swallowed hard as the blush rose in her cheeks. Uneasy, she closed her eyes to steady her rapidly beating heart, slowly licking her lips as she felt your warm breath brushing her thin skin. How she would like to just grab you and kiss you, but she tried to keep her composure. The cold that hits her skin shortly after you crept past her made her shudder and left her with a gentle tingle in the pit of her stomach. It snapped her out of her thoughts and brought her back to the cold reality. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself away from the wall she was standing against and walked over to you where you already sat on the couch with a slice of pizza and a glass of wine.

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snapghoul · 1 month

Text

Why Twisters is an amazing movie

Brought to you by snapghoul and their film degree

I really love analyzing films and I need to talk about this movie so badly. Get cozy, grab a nice drink because this is a long one.

Spoilers below

[ Part 2 ]

1) Disaster film - Human vs Nature

Disasters films are one of the most difficult movies to write and shoot because it’s human vs nature and people can only do so much. They are to remind us that we are very fragile, nature very dangerous, and a visual metaphor for the illusion of control. Making a film like this also requires a lot of CGI or a balanced mix of practical effects which in most films today is not as common due to budget.

When looking at films like San Andres (2015) or Day After Tomorrow (2004), both films are more action based. San Andres is written worse to worse before it gets better which is externally common in films like these, the earth quakes that lead to a tsunami and so on. The film also ends with the hopeful “we won” with the American flag and everyone recovering.

What makes Twisters stand out is the presence of the disasters are there but they aren’t what drive the characters solely, the tornadoes themselves are actually a subplot. It’s not tragedy after tragedy, like there’s an ungodly amount of tornadoes at once and people are dying left and right. And when people died it wasn’t graphic, I appreciated that very much that it was only people being swept away and not bloody. The tornadoes themselves only take up about 30 minutes of the 2 hour movie, which is very little compared to other storm films.

The main story is Kate working to overcome her trauma and relearning how to love chasing and being in the field again. They are an obstacle that do end being the “antagonist” towards the end of the film where Kate drives into the EF5 to stop it. Twisters is more written in a way to respect nature, to see the beauty and the power of the earth. Twisters also ends more ambiguous, there is the moment of triumph but it’s very short lived before the resolution of Javi, Kate and Tyler at the airport.

2) Kate’s Character & Relationships

Kate is one of the best written female protagonists I’ve seen in a very long time. Through the film she is struggling to over come a lot of trauma while also trying to juggle her crumbled friendship with Javi and her disconnection with her mother. Her struggles are very real, they weren’t played down or exaggerated, she had realistic response to being in a tornado again after the death of her friends. They also show her reliving that event many times, in the beginning we see a “ghost” of Jeb telling she’s okay, the moment she sees a tornado with Javi up close, she stumbles back and the voices of Jeb as they’re riding out the storm in the pool and how she grabs Tyler’s hand for a second to see if he was still there.

I personally loved that she refused to acknowledge her fear when around others because that is a very human thing, many people do it which makes her very dimensional and relatable. How she didn’t give Ben her last name, how she told Riggs she wasn’t scared. It’s such a real things that it makes me froth at the mouth because it such good writing.

As many people are upset that Kate and Tyler didn’t kiss, I actually agree on why they cut it out, it’s not about their budding romance. In movies there are many different subplots, in Twisters, Kate and Tyler are I would say around subplot C. Which I LOVED, i loved that they didn’t have all her problems fixed by a love interest or how his character downplayed her intelligence. In fact he elevated her character, Tyler is there to remind her the passion and fun of their field, he is also a blank slate with Kate, he has no preconceptions about her or history which allows her to open up and reignite her passion she had before.

And her hair symbolism! How we see it slowly gets more brown and less bright beach blonde that we see in New York.

Kate and Javi’s relationship I would also place at subplot B, Javi trying to get Kate back in the field but doing it in a not so right way. They have some unresolved issues between them regarding the trauma they share and it rears its head multiple times. The line “three of my best friends died while you were trying to land a big fat grant.” Was a real nail in the coffin for them but also it opened Javi’s character development up for the end of the film. Not only that but they and audience known that he agreed to getting the money at the beginning. So them splitting up was good because neither of them could get what they wanted or process anything when they were together. And in the end the come back together when they grow and change.

Also have to mention Kate and her mom, because it’s more growth for Kate, her mom comes in as the mentor character type, she refused to let Kate throw anything away and pushed her and Tyler together because she saw what he was doing.

3) Tyler Owens & The Wranglers

Of course I have to talk about our favorite tornado cowboy. His character is so interesting, he adds so much to each character, like a said above he only lifted Kate up.

But what I loved most about him was the infectious enthusiasm and passion he just oozed about weather. Even with the cocky YouTube personality he was having fun which was a contrast to Javi and Kate who were there on business. He is also very bright, instead of having a self taught chaser he had a degree, he knows what he’s doing and how to be safe while doing stupid stuff. The scenes where we see him showing her science side were some of my favorites, seeing him geek out over the storms and setting up models just showed he’s as much as a nerd and Kate.

His character is also very compassionate as well as the wranglers. We learn they sell merch so they can provide free food and water to survivors, that Tyler and Boone spent a while looking for a dog and that Lilly offered Kate food before she left. We see Tyler put himself in danger for the safety of others many times but not in a hero archetype way, he’s not a hero in any way, he’s a man who deeply cares, understands tragedy and knows how important friends and family are.

4) Music & Sound

Oh my god, the music in the film is phenomenal. Sound makes up a good majority of a movie, without good sound a film can flop. What I loved most about it was a lot of the music was diegetic: taking place in the world and can be heard by the characters. Seen(or heard) Ain’t No Love In Oklahoma playing through the speakers as the wranglers roll up, accompanied by a shot of the loud speakers on the motor home and the audio editing to make it sound like it’s coming from said speakers. (Ghost) Riders in the Sky blasting while they go to shoot fireworks, seeing Tyler whipping the truck through the field very recklessly also sets up that these characters are wild and obnoxious. Boone singing along to Dead End Road while loading flares, it adds another element of fun for them to interact with the music instead of it there so let for aesthetics.

If there was music for the action scenes, it wasn’t overpowering, in fact i barely noticed it until my third watch through.

The soundtrack is also really good, I’m not a huge country fan but my god did I by that OST vinyl so fast.

5) The Trucks

This is an honorable mention, but the red sped up dually ram was a character in its self. Once again showing the rugged and fun loving wranglers when put next to StormPAR’s pristine white trucks which is also a metaphor for Javi that we see it gets dirtier and dirtier as the film progresses and his character changes. But also how the red ram represents Tyler, he’s very safety oriented and the truck is a part of him and protects Kate during the final storm. She puts her trust in it and lets nature run it course instead of fighting it, something Tyler was trying to teach her. Not to run from it but to ride it.

But also Tyler ripping that rig through fields going 75mph is also just so funny to me.

I love symbolism.

I’m gonna stop it here before I write a whole essay about this which I might. But if you haven’t seen this movie I highly recommend it, it’s PG-13 so I suggest being careful watching this with little ones if you have them, the CGI storms can get a little freaky.

(Please let me know if you want more, I will gladly talk more)

#twisters #daisy edgar jones #anthony ramos #twisters movie #glen powell #glen powell tyler owens #tyler owens #daisy edgar jones kate carter #kate carter #boone twisters #the wranglers twisters #javi twisters

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novaursa · 15 days

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Can you please create a story about Cregan catching a spy? that he had set a trap for his men She was going to kill them but Cregan stops her by saving them. Then when they wanted revenge, Cregan laughed at them because they fell silent in front of a girl. tried to convince her to join them

Fox in Wolves Den

- Summary: You were instructed by Larys Strong to spy the northerners, to thin their ranks. But today you faced the Warden of the North himself.

- Paring: reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top, and there is the link to the second one.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The dense fog of the Wolfswood clings to your skin like the cold mist of a graveyard, thick and suffocating. You crouch low behind the twisted roots of an ancient oak, your breath shallow as you wait. The trap is set. The Green council has long whispered of Lord Cregan Stark’s men growing too bold, venturing too far south, seeking alliances that could tip the balance of power. Larys Strong tasked you with thinning their ranks, and you have done so with ruthless precision. But tonight is different. Tonight, the Warden of the North himself rides with them.

Your fingers twitch against the hilt of your dagger, your eyes trained on the narrow path that cuts through the forest like a scar. The rustling of horses’ hooves and the clank of steel echo faintly in the distance, a slow rhythm that sends a chill of anticipation racing down your spine. You’ve watched them for days, learning their patterns, their weaknesses. Tonight, they’ll ride into an ambush—your ambush—and bleed out on the frozen ground.

As the first shadowy figure emerges through the mist, you make no sound. The men are oblivious, lulled into a false sense of security by the quiet of the forest. They don’t know this land the way you do, don’t feel the danger lurking in the air.

You flick your wrist, a signal to the men hiding deeper in the woods. A few heartbeats later, a harsh twang breaks the silence as arrows fly through the air, striking the first few riders. Chaos erupts. Screams, the frantic neighing of horses, and the sudden clash of steel ring out.

For a moment, you believe the night is yours. The soldiers stumble and fall, caught off guard, as your hired killers descend upon them. Your heart pounds in your chest, but it is not fear that quickens your pulse. It is triumph. The greens will be pleased.

But then, something shifts. From the midst of the chaos, a deep voice cuts through the din. “Hold your line!”

Cregan Stark.

The Lord of Winterfell rides forward, his massive form cutting through the fog like an ancient god of war. His grey eyes gleam under the moonlight as he shouts commands, rallying his men with a calm yet fierce authority. Your pulse quickens again—but this time, it's not from triumph.

The Northern soldiers regroup, forming a wall of shields as Cregan wades into the fray with his greatsword in hand. With a single swing, he cuts down two of your men as if they were nothing more than straw dummies. You clench your teeth, realizing too late that the Warden of the North is not just a name. He’s a force.

You slink deeper into the shadows, eyes fixed on the towering figure of Stark as he moves with a lethal grace. His men rally behind him, the trap that should have killed them now turning on you. The hired blades you brought fall one by one beneath Stark’s sword and the renewed ferocity of his soldiers.

And then—disaster. A branch snaps beneath your feet, loud enough to betray your position.

"Over there!" a Northern voice shouts.

You bolt, darting through the underbrush with a speed that has saved you more times than you can count. But the Northerners are hunters, and their lord is no fool. You hear the thud of hooves behind you, the sound of a rider closing in fast.

Before you can reach the safety of the trees, a rough hand catches the back of your cloak, yanking you off balance. You stumble, crashing to the ground, your breath knocked from your lungs. A shadow falls over you as Cregan dismounts, his sword gleaming like the edge of a winter storm.

You roll onto your back, the sharp edge of your blade in hand, but before you can strike, he’s there—his hand clamping down on your wrist with crushing force. His face hovers inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin, smelling of steel and leather and cold northern air.

"Easy, little fox," he growls, eyes narrowing in amusement. "You've made quite the mess tonight."

Your chest heaves with ragged breaths as you meet his gaze, defiance burning in your veins. But Stark only chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seems to echo through the forest. His men approach, panting and bloodied, but alive. He looks at them, then back at you.

"This girl almost bested you lot," Cregan says, his tone light, mocking. "If I hadn't been here, she'd have left your corpses for the crows."

The men glance at each other, sheepish but relieved, and you feel the heat of humiliation burn your cheeks. You want to fight, to spit some venomous retort, but you’re pinned beneath his weight, your body betraying you.

Cregan’s gaze sweeps over you, lingering a moment longer than it should. There's a gleam of something in his eyes—something that isn’t quite anger or mockery. Amusement, yes, but curiosity as well. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a rough whisper only you can hear.

"Who sent you?"

You remain silent, your jaw clenched, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. His grip tightens just slightly, enough to make your wrist ache but not enough to break it.

"Stubborn," he murmurs. Then he smiles, the expression more wolf than man. "I like that."

With a swift movement, he hauls you to your feet, not releasing your wrist as he turns to his men. "Tie her up. We’ll take her with us. I want to know what game she's playing."

Two soldiers step forward, but before they can bind you, Cregan raises a hand, stopping them. He studies you, his gaze piercing, as if weighing something in his mind.

"Or..." His voice softens, though the command behind it is unmistakable. "You could join us. The North doesn’t mind a fox, as long as she knows where her loyalties lie."

Your heart skips a beat, the implications of his offer crashing over you like a wave. Betray the Greens? Betray Larys Strong? The thought is unthinkable, but standing there, caught in Cregan Stark’s grip, you find yourself staring into the cold eyes of a wolf—and you wonder if, perhaps, your loyalty is worth less than your life.

You say nothing, but Cregan's smile widens, as if he's already decided your fate.

"You don’t have to answer now," he says, his voice lowering to a dangerous purr. "But you will. One way or another."

And with that, you are dragged into the night, your future hanging in the balance between wolves and men.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #cregan x y/n #hotd cregan #cregan x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark

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