#i know this because i lived this now shhhhhh

[soaqrudyz]

i like to think another reason soap and ghost trusted each other so quickly is because they could smell the low income upbringing on each other.

ghost was a slum kid through and through, with shoes that felt perpetually too large and cigarette holes through his hand-me-down jackets. if his mum didn’t have time to cook, or if her hands shook too violently to handle silverware, he was the one to scrape together enough passable nutrients to feed tommy, and some nights himself. he was born into back alley business and when his time came, if the worms didn’t get him, the stray cats could feast on his carcass for the next two generations.

soap grew up in a full house. when his da left with that droopy-eyed, pale sack of infections he deemed more important than his wife of seven years and their five children, his mum and older sister were the sole providers in his life. he learned very early on to make do with what he had unless he couldn’t, splitting funds for so many people, along with bills and groceries and clothes and school supplies, was an enormous task that he couldn’t very well make more difficult like the rest of his sisters seemed to want to with a clean conscience.

they both see it instantly — soap, the way ghost refused to ask for anything; and ghost, the way soap only asked for the cheapest, weakest, most useless version of what he needed, still with a guilty bite to his bottom lip. the way they both (metaphorically) lick their plates clean, afraid to waste a single crumb; the way each of them preferred to mend instead of simply buying something new like gaz; the way they both opt for one practical and one frivolous gift each holiday for both useage and enjoyment.

it’s easy to relate to the anxious pinch of eyebrows at the till when you’ve been too involved in financial discussions your whole life, and even easier to remind each other that money wasn’t a problem anymore. soap could remind ghost that he didn’t have to conserve anymore, and ghost could remind soap that he didn’t have to buy scratchy clothes or food brands he didn’t like just because they were cheaper.

and even if ghost didn’t want to ask for something he wanted, soap would get it anyway. and even if soap made a fuss of how much they threw in their cart, ghost would throw more in anyway.

because they can. because no matter their financial worry, they have someone who will understand and make everything feel okay again.

#you can just see when one of your friends grew up stable #dickheads #i know this because i lived this now shhhhhh #call of duty #cod #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #soap cod #soapghost #ghostsoap #soap x ghost #ghoap #once again logan is ranting incoherently

[just-some-random-blogger]

Scale Soother

Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Cregan Stark x Reader

Summary: "Fine," the king quips, "tell me, then, how it is you managed to tame this dragon?" He looks off to the side and watches as the creature stares at him, as if unwilling to let him out of his sight. "The secret is, your grace," I shake my head, "I did not."

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, VERY alternate universe, very self-indulgent fic, made up lore, internet translated high valyrian/Astapori Valyrian, ye old misogyny, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: if you have any quarrels with my made up lore or my high/astapori valyrian, i'll tell you right now, youre right im wrong, so just roll with it ok. also i made a song for this fic cos im a music student and i well wanted to (very self-indulgent as i said) and YES my pronunciation in it is inconsistent and i missed some syllables but its fine shhhhhh roll w it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui

dārilaros se zaldrīzes

(princess and dragon)

konīr iksin iā zaldrīzes bona glaestan isse se guēsin (there was a dragon that lived in the forest) konīr iksin iā dārilaros bona vāettan iā gevie vāedar (there was a princess that sung a beautiful song) se lanta sia mēre isse Perzys Ānogār (and two were one in fire and blood) se mēre tubis kessi udrāzma se tegun (and one day they will rule the land)

I lick my lips as I blur the dark line on my paper. I look up and move to throw some mutton to the fox I was drawing, but perk up from my spot when I see that I would not be able to feed any beast, as I was now by myself.

Immediately, my instinct is to turn over my shoulder. I look behind me and roll my eyes at the man walking over to me, "sȳz syt doru gine." Good for nothing rat.

The tan skinned man shakes his head, making his longish, dark hair brush against his angular jaw, "ao ōdrio nyke." You wound me.

"Why are you even here?" I eye him, "you know nature despises you."

He sits down next to me on the ground and shrugs, "you know, just because the name of your house means 'red beast', doesn't mean you have to make it a point to draw foxes every single day," he eyes me and says the name of my house rather mockingly, "Milidyni."

I throw my head back and scoff, "this again?" I raise a brow at him, "you do know you are the worst perpetrator of living up to your name, Gael Valzȳrys," I stand and brush off my skirt, "and besides, I am helping my father as a beast scholar to catalog the creatures of the woods. You do nothing of the sort."

Gael watches me and I give him a look.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he frowns as his thick dark brows move close together.

I knit my own brows at his expression and look up at him as he stands and towers over me, "are you seriously pretending you don't 'wife up'--" I look away and begin to walk off, "or at least attempt to-- every woman you set your eyes upon--" I turn back to him and give him a look, wording sardonically, "Husband?"

Gael scoffs, "it's hardly my fault women are willing to give up their maidenhoods to me. It's not like I make myself look as though I would actually be their valzȳrys," husband.

I cringe as I begin to navigate through the forest on the path back home, "no you are too correct," I clutch my notebook and my skirt in hand, "belonging to house Valzȳrys was too generous a name of the gods to bestow upon you," I look over my shoulder and raise a hand, "you should have belonged to house Live." Whore.

"Asha," Gael exclaims and makes a face, "how original."

Gael and I walk through the forest, bickering over names as we did. I smack him in the shoulder for insulting the name Kotova.

"Kotova is a beautiful name!" I point a finger at him.

He looks at me as though he is actually pained, and I do hope he is, as he should. He rubs his arm, "ao brōstan zirȳla se ēlī run bona istan ezīmagon aōha bartos!" You named her the first thing that went into your head!

"Sīr?" I quip, "ao ydragho hae ao ȳdra daor qogralbar se ēlī run ao ūndegon."

So? You speak like you don't fuck the first thing you see.

Gael laughs and moves close, "I have yet to fuck you, my s--"

He does not get to finish as suddenly there is a loud shriek from overhead, followed by the sound of long strides of large wings.

Gael flinches as we both look skyward. I grin where he exclaims out to the Harpy for deliverance. I turn to Gael as he grabs onto my arm. I laugh at him, "serves you right, cretin."

"Fucking cock block."

The assembly hall smelled like oranges, for the king had been haughtily eating them in the middle of his meeting. He looked like he was paying more attention to peeling the skin of his citrus rather than the droning report of Otto Hightower. But then again, that would not have been too out of the ordinary; he never liked him. It's a wonder he's still on the council.

Daemon had his feet up as sucked on an orange bud, unsure if he appreciated the fact it was wholly sweet with no hint of tanginess. He let out a soft belch and turned to his side, "cupbearer."

Rhaenyra straightens and turns to his uncle.

"Mirri averilla, riñītsos," says the king. Some wine, little girl.

Daemon raises his cup to his niece as she walks over with an ewer of wine. He pulls his legs off the table and assesses his cupbearer's dress, the one he gifted her for her recent nameday just a few night ago.

"Se ēnka iksis sȳz va ao," the king utters in their shared tongue, the color is good on you.

Rhaenyra smiles at him, "kirimvose, ñuha dārys."

Thank you, my king.

Daemon smiles as Rhaenyra pulls away after pouring him some wine. His smile flattens when his sight catches the cunt-Lord turning from the other Targaryen to him with pursed lips.

"I don't remember asking you to stop your report, Hightower," he raises his brows and shakes his head expectantly.

Otto shifts from where he stood, "no, your majesty."

Daemon leans on his chair at the head of the table, downing a large gulp of wine. It's bitter and sour, just as he hoped, and it complimented his oranges exquisitely.

"And then there is a matter of a dragon, your grace," Otto says rather gravely, out of character even for his usually tedious demeanor.

The rest of the council members turn to him while Daemon looks out the window and thinks, 'ah, yes, I would so adore to ride off with Caraxes at this time'.

"Many of our trade partners from Essos have given consistent and wearisome accounts about the dragon in the area nicknamed Forest Fire."

"Huh," the king chuckles, turning back to Otto. He finally has Daemon's attention.

"How quaint."

"Yes," Otto speaks flatly, "the quaint abomination has burned down forests for sport and left a great many casualties in its stead, hindering trade and damaging goods, our trade goods"

Daemon puts his cup down and shrugs slightly, "so? There is a lose dragon in Essos. My business with the savages that live there are as far and few as my business with the dragon toying with them. We do not rely on Essos. Cease trade if you must."

Otto rolls his shoulders back and clutches his hands in front of him. He clenches his jaw and allows for the faintest of grins to pull on his lips. Daemon was actually unsure if it was a grin or if he was in pain.

"That would have been my own thoughts as solution, my king, had that dragon not had a rider."

Daemon blinks.

Otto relaxes his shoulders.

Rhaenyra from the side looks between her best friend's father and her uncle with a lowered jaw.

A chorus of utterances fall from the lips of the Lords at the table, things along the line of 'a rider?,' 'impossible,' and general grumbles of disbelief.

Daemon reaches his hand out to the marble sphere before him and tilts his head at Otto. He swirls his tongue on the roof of his mouth, savoring the remnants of snack, then tilts his head to the lord, "are you implying that someone from my family has adopted one too many mounts in their keep and has made a game of toying with some low lives in the east?"

"I am saying," Otto shifts on his leg, "that there is a dragon out there whose mount is not from your family."

Daemon stills.

Rhaenyra's mouth falls wider.

The lords lose their shit.

And for a moment, there is a continous streak of worried mumbles.

Lord Velaryon from across the table, in fact, adopted a deep line between his brows upon hearing this.

But then suddenly, the king laughs and silences everyone.

Daemon laughs so hard that he clutches his stomach as his amusement echoes around the room.

Rhaenyra is extremely agitated by the response of her uncle and how the council reacts to him.

Daemon lets out a sigh once he's satisfied himself and slumps on his chair, "my," he lets out a deep breath, "I do say I believe a thanks is in order, chum," he wipes a tear, "That is, in all honestly, the funniest you have ever been the entire time you've been at court," he straightens up, "or, methinks, your entire life," he chuckles.

Otto Hightower does not share the sentiment. He does not find himself particularly fond of being called chum by the king either. "I assure you, your grace," he shakes his head, "I do not jest."

Daemon's smirk does not falter.

"You would agree with me when I say I do not know how," the lord adds.

Otto sees no change or belief in the king's expression so, he instead turns to the king's hand, Lord Strong, "this issue has come to my attention less than week prior, and since then, I have been securing information about the so-called Forest Fire so that I could raise the matter to the king."

Lord Hand meant speak, but the King beats him to it, "and why did you not notify me of this the said week prior?"

Otto turns to the king.

Daemon is now hard and unamused. He leans on his elbows and raises his brows accusingly at him.

Otto narrows his eyes, "I did not wish to add to the flame of a mummer's farce, my king."

"Then humor me, Hightower," he raises his brows, "in detail," he leans on the table, "what do you know of this Forest Fire?"

"Kiba," I huffed as I entered my home through the back door, "I spied four horses come down the road on my way here. Did you-"

I halt in both my steps and my words when I am face to face with a tall man in a deep green coat. The scent of his oils and perfume are poke into my nostrils as though it was done with a stick.

I walk back and let out a breath, "skoros se qogralbar?" What the fuck?

"Five horses," someone mutters. I hear a laugh and turn to my side, "my, I see the lady has come just in time."

I move back at the sight of the devious looking man with alabaster hair and purple eyes. I clutch my skirt and turn away from him, finding my father holding cups and a pitcher, same with our servant.

Immediately, I rush over to the man and mutter in a low voice, "kiba, issi ao isse pelrar?" Father, are you in trouble?

My father hands me a cup and cocks his head to the side, quickly muttering, "daor, ñuha prūmia, issa ao qilōni iksis isse pelrar." No, my heart, it is you who is in trouble.

My eyes dart to the silver haired man muttering something to a silver haired girl. My father pours into the cup in my hand, then the one in his.

"King Daemon," my father says and offers the drink to him.

I wordlessly follow suit and offer the cup to the person beside King Daemon.

"Thank you," she says to me.

The man beside her raises a brow, "will you not greet the princess?"

I turn to the king then the princess, offering a curtsy, "princess..."

"Rhaenyra," he adds.

I turn to him and repeat, "Rhaenyra."

The king tilts his head. The high collar of his leathery black tunic was adorned with an eccentric ruby necklace and the fingers that were gripping the bronze cups we only used when we had guests were all clad with golden rings, "do you honestly expect me to believe you don't know who she is, who we are-- who I am?"

"Kepus," mutters Rhaenyra. Her dainty hand comes to the arm of her uncle. Her violet eyes and rosy cheeks move to his duller face in comparison. Her features are complimented by the deep velvet red of her dress and the intricate braids of her light hair.

I smooth out my orange corset and red skirt, "you are King Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen," I smile softly.

I can practically feel my father tense in anticipation of my next words.

"You are all guests to our humble abode."

Father lets out a soft breath.

"I am here for your Forest Fire," the king replies quickly.

I pull my head back and frown, "forest fire?"

King Daemon narrows his eyes and looks past me.

"We have reports-"

I turn and find the odorous man was speaking.

"-that a dragon has been going about burning through trees and people, thus the nickname, Forest Fire."

I suck in a breath and feel my breathing tighten at the insulting words of the man, "I assure you, ser," I knit my brows and frown, "I have no knowledge of this monster which you speak."

The tall man looks down upon me and tilts his head, "no?"

I hear my father call out my name lowly. I ignore his cautious tone, for he knows my words are true.

"Then tell me, Lady Milidyni," the man steps forward, "would you deny it still if I tell you your father has told all of us," he raises a hand, "that you came from the riverbank after riding upon the back of your dragon."

"I do not deny riding a dragon," I retort quickly, "but I say to you, whatever talk of forest fires you know of was not the doing of my mount."

"Pār emilā nyke pāsagon bona aōha zaldrīzes iksis rāpa se sȳz?"

I turn over my shoulder and find the raised brows of the king. He taps his finger on his cup and looks at me expectantly.

The princess watches me as I stare. She starts, "my uncle said, 'y--"

"Then you will have me believe that your dragon is soft and kind," I repeat the words perfectly. The silver haired princess presses her lips together.

"Nyke ȳdra daor gimigho skoros sȳz zaldrize emā isse Vesteros lo ao odabagho konir sagon skoros nyke nūmāzma," I retort.

I don't know what kind of dragons you have in Westeros if you think that is what I mean.

The king laughs through his nostrils then takes a sip of his wine. He pulls the cup away from his mouth and looks at it before saying, "you are amusing, little girl."

"I am not a little girl," I reply simply.

I hear my father call out my name. I turn over to him as he give me a look, "he is a king."

"Well, he's not our king."

"Beza tala kessa sagon se murgho yno," he sighs. This girl will be the death of me.

"Daor vasīr." Not yet, says the king, making me turn to him with a scowl. He hands my father his cup as he steps forward, "you will take us to your dragon at once."

I look up at him as he stands far too close to me for my liking. I raise my hand up to his chest and step back, "all of you?" I turn to the man in the green coat, the two armoured guards, the princess, then back to him, "my dragon is not used to seeing so many people."

He tilts his head and narrows his eyes, "ah, are you afraid he might hurt us?"

He turns to my hand when my palm connects with his sternum. I slightly push him back to prevent him from drawing any nearer, "I am afraid you might do something to taunt her."

"You think so-" he grabs my wrist, "-lowly of a king."

"No," I tilt my head up, "I assume what I know of your nature, Valyrian conqueror."

He seems to be pleased by that name. His lips curve into a lopsided smile, "then do not make me waste my time any further by stalling."

We stare at each other for a moment then I pull my hand away from him.

I turn about and gather my skirt, "lēda nyke." With me.

"Ñuhe kepe hobrenke usōvegon syt otāpagon bona ao lī daor shifang Valyrio Eglie," princess Rhaenyra offers as she walks up next to me.

I must apologize for thinking that you would not understand High Valyrian.

I turn to her as we walk over some branches on the ground.

"Gaomagon daor qubemagon aōla, dārilaros," the king mutters behind us, "ziry ȳdrā iā nādrēsy lūs hen īlva ēngos."

Do not lower yourself, princess. She speaks a bastard kind of our tongue.

"Kepus," she mutters, looking over to the king.

The king turns to me as I do the same. He raises his brows at me as he marches over a large rock, "iksin nyke pirta?" Am I wrong?

I ignore him and turn to the princess, "your uncle is correct. Astapori Valyrian is a branch of Bastard Valyrian languages. It has remnants of Old Ghiscari, which may be why you won't understand some of my words. I however I can understand you perfectly."

The man called Otto Hightower, as I was told, swats a bug flying over to him.

I turn to him and the two Kingsguard tailing after him just as the princess excitedly says, "that is so fascinating. I suppose that must be why your mount listens to you."

I chuckle at the words of the girl and push back a branch in our way, "my dragon does not merely listen to me because I speak Valyrian."

"Pray tell," the king steps between us, "do explain how why Forest Fire listens to a lowly wench like you."

I stop in my tracks and furrow my brows. He purses his lips and gives me a look.

"I wonder if you think I am inclined to give a courteous response to your crude words, Daemon Targaryen."

The corner of his lips twitch into a smirk, "King Daemon Targaryen."

"King," I repeat dryly. I turn away and walk off, releasing the branch, hoping it hits the man on his way.

Judging by his grunt, it does. I smile to myself.

"Insolent bitch, I ought to--" the clamors of the king are silenced by the shriek that causes a flock of birds to fly away.

I hasten my movements and secure my skirt in my hand, "I do suggest you calm yourself, king."

He does not respond as we all continue to the tread deeper into the thick, green forest. By the time I spot the flowing river, I turn to the king and mutter, "we're here."

I take the same route I always do, feeling the man follow closely behind me. He catches my arm when my shoe slips from a damp patch of soil and eyes me darkly as I turn to thank him out of instinct. I still thank him, but do so rather reluctantly.

"Do not do anything that will startle your ride," he mutters, releasing me.

"She is not extremely jittery like you, your grace."

Before he can respond, I am walking off.

"Iksan kesīr, Kotova," I call out as the familiar scent of dragon hits my nose, "eman sindita ragero lēda nyke."

I am here, Kotova. I have brought friends with me.

I turn to Daemon as he looks around. I cannot help but chuckle at the solemn look upon his face as he anticipates the dragon.

"She will not eat you," I hold back a smile, "I swear it."

"I am no fool," Daemon turns to me, "she does not have to eat me to kill me."

There is then a crescendo of crackling screeches. From the far off side, comes out then a largish, white winged beast, head cocking left and right as she slowly crawls out toward us. She was, in truth, only so much bigger than a carriage but her wings made her look larger than she really was.

I smile as I walk over to her while she lifts her head up and roars with jaws wide open.

"Asha," I exclaim and raise a hand to her.

The dragonling stops her cries and lowers her head a fraction, turning to me. She bleats gutturally and stretches out her wings, beating them rapidly, much like how she usually greets me. She then rolls her long neck over and under then settles down and inches near me.

She huffs and rests her wings beside her. Her snout comes me as reach out to her.

Daemon watches the pearly white creature submit to her rider. He sees the shine of her blistering white scales and the shape of her head. There was something about the creature that made him think she did not look right, something about her snout and the shape of her body. He was unsure if it had to do the ghastly lack of color her or the rather bird-like demeanor it had with the wing-flapping.

"Kotova," I speak as I caress the face of my dragon, "rytsuragon se dārys se dārilaros." Greet the king and princess.

Kotova pulls her head up and steps a few paces back. She then stretches both her wings, rather effectively blocking a good amount of sunshine and bares all her teeth as she screams at the Targaryens.

Rhaenyra's jaw parts into a small open mouthed smile as she brings her hands to her ears. Daemon steps one pace back and averts his gaze as the gush of hot dragon breath hits his face. He huffs and waves his hands by his nose.

I laugh as Kotova bleats once more for approval as she curls up and turns to me. I laugh and stroke her wiry scales, "olvie sȳz, ñuha jorrāelagon." Very good, my love.

Rhaenyra watches our exchange and pulls away her hands from her head, "her name is Kotova?"

I turn to the princess and smile. I nod "she is my Kotova."

"A quaint name for a dragon," she notes, lightheartedly.

I laugh and raise a hand to her direction, "it is the Astapori word for strong, princess," I turn to Rhaenyra then to Daemon, "I shall introduce you to her, your graces, yes?"

Rhaenyra turns to her king for approval. Daemon nods then motions for her to follow.

The moment the princess nears, Kotova instantly begins to stir with curiosity and heavily sniff the air.

"Asha, Kotova," I mutter as I take the hand of the princess, "ȳdra daor sagon tolī olvie." Hush, Kotova, don't be too much.

Kotova does her best to contain her excitement as I gently lead the girl's hand to the dragon's snout, "bisa iksis Rhaenyra." This is Rhaenyra.

"Rystas, Kotova," she greets hello with a breathy tone.

I catch Rhaenyra's smile as Kotova huffs and moves her head a bit in acknowledgement of the contact. I watch how Kotova turns her head in a telltale manner. I immediately stop her from continuing what I know she was planning to do.

"Daor, Kotova," I speak 'no' sternly.

She huffs in response.

Once I feel the dragonling calm, I release Rhaenyra's hand and allow her to touch as Kotova as much as she'd like. Her hair, strikingly like the tint of my dragon scales, blows back with the wind. She turns to me and smiles, moving towards me, "she is a sweet and kind thing."

"Indeed," I smile and nod, "she is precious to me."

Rhaenyra turns to the side, "uncle, it's your turn now."

Daemon looks as I circle around his niece and reach out to him.

He waits for a few seconds to pass before walking over to me, taking my hand in his. He confidently strides to my dragon and it makes her pull away from Rhaenyra. She then raises her head and tilts it to the side as looks down upon us. The spikes on her hair raise as she breathes in and huffs.

"Kotova," I warn.

Rhaenyra smartly backs away slowly.

I sense no agitation from Daemon, save for how he tightens his grip on me. I turn to him and inhale deeply, "it's because you smell like dragon," I mutter to Daemon as I raise hand, "gīda ilagon, Kotova." Calm down, Kotova.

He mutters without tearing his gaze away from Kotova, "I did not ride my dragon here."

"Didn't you?" I turn to her as Kotova cautiously lowers her head, "you must not have washed properly."

Rhaenyra chuckles from the side.

I continuously hush Kotova until she is comfortable enough to near us.

"Rysta, Kotova," Daemon says hello to the dragon.

I release a soft snort as I turn from the king to the head of the dragon. I bring our hands to her snout and "bisa iksis Daemon, Kotova." This is Daemon, Kotova.

Daemon is shocked by the coolness of the skin. He furrows his brows as Kotova huffs and leans into us.

I pull away from the king and allow him to touch her as much as he wants. I watch him as he scrutinizes the creature before him.

Kotova leans into Daemon's touch and shakes her head. I step away and withhold a smile, doing nothing to hold her back from what I know she's going to do next.

Kotova darts her tongue out and licks Daemon's arm, coating it in thick slober.

I instantly break into a laugh as Daemon curses and pulls back. He turns to me as Rhaenyra joins in with my giggles.

"Ah, so you meant for her to do this," Daemon dryly states, swatting his hand in my direction, making Kotova's saliva splash to my dress. He does not allow his niece to laugh with no repercussions either and baptizes her with dragon spit.

Rhaenyra is hit straight on the cheek, immediately halting her laughter. She growls at her uncle, "Daemon!"

Daemon shrugs, grabbing my skirt, pulling me into him, then wiping his arm there. I grip onto his shoulder as he bends down and dries his dripping arm off on my dress.

I grunt as I lean into him, falling a tad out of balance because of his yanking. I watch as Kotova examines us but makes no attempt to defend me. I nearly scoff at her passivity. She was normally did not take kindly to people touching me. I wonder if it's because she recognizes the dragon in him.

Once he is done wiping the dampness, he straightens himself up and looks down at me, "that was quite amusing."

I shove him away with my hips, "a honor to bemuse you, dear king."

Daemon's shoes dig into the dirt as he keeps himself upright. I move to the other side of Kotova's face, leaving him standing in front of Kotova by himself.

He startles when Kotova huffs as he leans into him.

This time, I hiss in displeasure, "daor, Kotova."

She huffs.

I repeat, "daor."

Kotova pulls back obediently. She tucks her legs in, proceeding to then curl into herself, around me, and rest her head on the ground.

Rhaenyra watches as the dragon's neck curls over to her tail. Kotova pushes me into her body, tucking me under her wing. I grunt as I am covered by the heavy thing, "Kotova!"

She does not respond as I push her wing up and escape the leathery prison.

Upon seeing how I carelessly lean into Kotova and step over her neck to get out of my spot, Daemon furrows his brows and wonders if he would ever to the same with his own dragon. He moves to the side of the glimmering white beast and stops when he sees her face, one eye looking back at him. He only now realized it blue and gold.

He turns to me with furrowed brows as I walk over.

"Fine," the king quips, "tell me, then, how it is you managed to tame this dragon?" He looks off to the side and watches as the creature stares at him, as if unwilling to let him out of his sight.

"The secret is, your grace," I shake my head, "I did not."

Daemon turns to me, an unimpressed expression on his features.

"Kotova, as much as she is dear to me," I raise my brows, "does not belong to me." I look at the dragon as she buries her head into her wing and sighs deeply.

I smile at her catlike action and turn back to Daemon, violet eyes glued on me already. "She is free, king. I do not confine her, I do not stop her from flying far off without me; she is her own keeper.

"Between us, I think, is a bond of mutual respect and affection. I found her when she was no larger than an overgrown lizard and cared for her, thinking she would grow no larger than a small dog." I cross my arms and turn to Kotova.

Rhaenyra walks over to us. I look over to her and, in turn, catch sight the other three men with us, looking out from a far enough distance.

I turn back to Daemon as he says, "surely as the daughter of the Master of Beasts, you would know the difference between a lizard and a dragon."

I ignore his incredulous tone, "Kotova's wings barely resembled what they are now when she was a hatchling, and her skin was translucent," I give him a look, "trust me, king, you may think yourself a dragon expert, but you wouldn't have thought she was a dragon then either."

Daemon does not appreciate the way his title is said.

"I think she was rejected by her clutch, which was why she ended up here in the green lands."

King turns to Kotova, thinking it made sense, considering his own thoughts about her and how she did look like an odd-one-out.

"So, she is amicable," king Daemon utters, "but only borne out of your presence. It does not solve my concern with the forest fires, nor does it change the fact," he turns to me with raised brows, "you are a dragon rider outside of my blood."

I look at Daemon and he clutches his belt and scabbard. A gush of wind blows between us as I asses the man's face. His violet eyes looked almost clear because of the sunlight, and though his expression was blank, I knew better than to mistake it for something like kindness. I turn to Kotova and find myself thinking about how similar they appeared. Even now, the connection between Targaryen and dragon was uncanny.

I speak, "allow me to solve one of your problems then, Daemon."

Rhaenyra pulls her head back at the lack of use of king and looks at her uncle, who narrows his eyes at me.

I whistle then call, "Kotova."

Kotova ignores me.

I suck in a breath and walk over to her, pulling my skirt up, placing my sole on her body, shaking her with my leg, "b��, tala." Up, girl.

Kotova peaks through her wing then huffs, before giving a dramatic protest, throaty and loud.

"Asha," I hush, "rȳbagon," obey.

Kotova stands, and if she could, rolls her eyes as she did so. She stretches her wings out for effect, incidentally pushing both Targaryens in her side away as she did so.

Daemon and Rhaenyra grab each other and move back to the side as Kotova raises her head and flairs her short, stubbly, leathery horns. She gives a shrill squawk then shakes her head.

I call out her name and she rolls her eyes again.

I extend my arms out to the side and crane my neck up at her, commanding, "drakarys."

Daemon and Rhaenyra stiffen with wide eyes. Instinctively, Daemon reaches out for his niece and pushes her behind him as he too steps away, "are you mad?!"

Kotova lowers her head to me and shoves me back with her snout. I am nothing against her strength and nearly topple back. I shake my head and regain my footing as Kotova begins to walk past me slowly, absolutely done with my bullshit.

"Keligon, Kotova," I command 'halt' as I walk in front of her again, "rȳbagon," I mutter 'obey' again once in front of her.

Kotova twists her long neck and hisses.

I recoil when her spit splashes on my cheek. I wipe my face and then rip out a bunch of weeds from the ground and throw it in front of the dragon, "drakarys."

Kotova growls as I point to the weeds.

Daemon watches the dragon huff through her nostrils and shake her wings in annoyance. So, her point is to get herself killed and be done with it?

"Drakarys, Kotova!"

Kotova, after a loud cry that made everyone, including the lord and the two knights, step back at the shrillness of it, finally obeys. A great many flock of birds fly overhead as the dragon breathes onto the tiny strands of grass. She gives out all the air in her lungs, in turn making the weeds shoot off in various directions.

Her exhale is so aggressive, spit splutters out.

Air, spit and more spit, but no fire. No fire at all.

Once Kotova was done, she looks at me and screams.

I recoil at her ear piercing cry and cringe, raising my hands up to her, "krimvo, tala. Emā dohaertan nyke sȳrī." Thank you, girl. You have served me well.

I reach out to her face and she opens her mouth, threatening to nip at me. It was an empty threat I knew, but a threat no less. I pull back and give her a look, "asha," I drop the tone of my voice, "keligon." Hush. Halt.

Kotova shakes her head and wags her slender tail.

"Sȳz!" I wave her off, "Henujagon. Jikagon va." Fine! Leave. Go on.

Kotova gratefully yelps and rather quickly takes off. She makes sure to hover over me, and cause dust and dirt to fly all over my body, as well as my skirt and hair to whip all over, before ultimately ascending, up until she was so high you could barely make her out, especially with how white she was in the sky. She blended well in the clouds and the harsh sun light.

Once she was gone and all of us were reeling with the sand in our eyes and mouths and ears and folds, I turn to Daemon and find him spitting out dirt in between spitting out curses.

I walk over to him and wipe my face, "as you can see, Daemon, Kotova is incapable of breathing fire."

I glance to the face of the lord from the distance, "whatever you and your company know about this Forest Fire is not about my dragon," I turn back to Daemon, "and as for your other concern. Like I said, she is free creature," I shrug, "she barely answered to me, as you bore witness."

Daemon dusts himself off just as Rhaenyra did.

"Of course, you could always wed me-"

The two royals halt.

I raise my brows, "or kill me and my fireless friend."

The king stares at me for a moment. He watches as I brush off my corset and roll my shoulders back. He feels ire prick into his veins, "gaomagon ao mīvindigon nyke, asp?" Do you taunt me, bitch?

I pull my head back and chuckle, "se ānogar hen zaldrīzes dakogon qumblie. Sīr adere naejot zālagon." The blood of the dragon runs thick. So quick to burn.

Daemon struts over to me and leaves little space between us. "Gaomagon daor ȳdragon hen zaldrīzes ānogar naejot nyke," he quips between his teeth. Do not speak of dragon blood to me.

He leans into me, "daoruni gīmī hen drakarys."

"You know nothing of dragon fire?!" I repeat his incredulous words, "ñuha gierion issi se ñuqir hen aōha drakarys, zaldrīzes āzma." My people are the ash of your dragon fire, dragon born.

I shake my head, "Astapor knows more about dragon fire than you ever will."

Daemon chuckles dryly, "you excite me with such pretty notions."

"Then forgive me for putting ideas in your head," I retort, grabbing my skirt, then curtsying dismissively. I then curtsy to Rhaenyra, and look back to her uncle. I stare at him for a moment before walking off.

I hear him scoff and angrily march, catching my arm, "I did not dismiss you, impudent wench."

I turn to him and smile twistedly, "oh, apologies, your grace," I pull my arm away. He does not release me. I huff, "I had already given you solutions to your problems. I did not think it would make you so taken by me so quickly."

"OH HA!" someone calls from afar, making all of us turn to whom called rather carelessly.

The two knights are immediately alerted and unsheathe their weapons as Gael storms over to us.

"Unhand Lady Milidyni this instant," he barks, pointing a finger our way.

"Valzȳrys!" I quip as Daemon releases me and unsheathes his own sword.

Daemon does not hesitate to meet him and surely enough, Gael is quickly cornered at the tip of 3 swords.

"Ao doru-borto qogralbar," I grunt, you stupid fuck.

"If you want to keep your head on your shoulders, you will keep your mouth shut, peasant," Daemon bristles, both hands on his hilt, fully intent to strike.

Before Gael could speak, I bark and point, "shut up, Gael!"

Gael looks at me then Daemon.

Daemon watches as Gael clenches his jaw and raises his hand up in surrender. He scoffs, lips tilting into a smile, "good to know your mutt is obedient to you as well."

Gael turns to me, "skoros gaomas bisa timpa ōghar orvorta jaelagon lēda ao?" What does this white haired cunt want with you?

I roll my eyes at his attempt to speak freely.

Daemon laughs manically and presses closer to him, bringing his blade against Gael's cheek which then rips into his skin, "iderēbagon aōha hembar udra wisely, syt kostis sagon aōha mōrī." Choose your next words wisely, for they may be your last.

"King Daemon!" I call, running towards him, grabbing hold of his arm, "ignore the fool. He's good for nothing."

"Finally something we agree on," retorts the king, although he does not withdraw his weapon and instead shoves me away from him.

"My king," Rhaenyra calls, storming over to him, "please! That's enough."

"Yes," Daemon mutters, "I am king," he words firmly, "and I decide what happens and what does not."

Gael flinches when his ear is poked.

"I say, I might enjoy making your ear into a necklace," Daemon mutters, pressing his blade into the side of his head, making blood drip down his neck.

I curse under my breath.

"But for now, I use you as leverage," he mutters, turning to me, "if you want your dear husband to remain unmutilated, you will make no fuss and obey me. Understood?"

"Understood," I blurt quickly.

Gael lets out a shallow breath when the king pulls away his blade, prompting the knights to do the same.

He then takes my arm and eyes Gael as he drags me off.

"Well done, Hightower," Daemon says, as we pass the bearded man, "though your information is skewed, it seems you shall keep your head after all."

Rhaenyra watches her uncle drag me off then turns to Otto who sighs, "most generous of you, my king."

Gael looks out to the king and heaves, "where are you taking her?!"

"King's Landing," Daemon mutters, looking over his shoulder, "come on then, Rhaenyra."

"Rhaenyra!" Alicent calls the moment she spots her friend, undoubtedly walking this very corridor in order to speak with her.

When the two girls meet, they clutch each other's hands affectionately.

"I am most remorseful for not greeting you the day you arrived. My father was strict about making me finish my lessons on bookkeeping before releasing me."

Rhaenyra makes an amused face of disbelief, "and what exactly where the ledgers that took you three days to finish?"

"The Hightower logs."

The princess laughs, "lessons? My dear, I think you were duped into doing the work meant for Lord Hightower."

The Hightower raises a brow, "you think?"

The two share a laugh.

The princess and the lady immediately link arms and begin to walk off to nowhere in particular.

"So my father has returned with his head," the red haired girl speaks, making Rhaenyra look at her incredulously, "I wouldn't have let Daemon kill him, Alicent. It's why I joined the trip, if it wasn't already obvious."

The girls lean into each other as they walk leisurely.

Alicent releases a breath, "oh yes of course. It was not to see whether or not there was, in fact, a non-Targaryen dragon and a rider in Essos, no?"

Rhaenyra grins and leans into Alicent, "well of course, there's that too."

"I hear it was a woman who tamed the beast, and that she was at the back of the king's horse as you came home."

Rhaenyra presses her lips into a flat line, "a funny thing, Lady Milidyni-- her name. She said she never ridden the back of a horse before, and it both made a lot of sense and no sense at all."

Alicent thinks then shrugs, "perhaps she is accustomed to riding in a carriage."

"Or her dragon," Rhaenyra looks at Alicent's dark eyes with her lighter ones, "you know, her dragon is, perhaps, about as old as Syrax, and a ghastly shade of white."

She nods, "father told me the thing looked like a monster who fled the burn of winter for a taste of spring."

The princess pulls her head back, "Otto Hightower said that? He is quite the poet."

Alicent looks off and shakes her head, "he is not."

Rhaenyra laughs, shaking her blonde hair as she did.

"What does the king plan to do with Lady Milidyni?" Alicent turns to Rhaenyra, "wouldn't it have been easier to kill her to avoid any sort of trouble with the dragon?"

Rhaenyra sighs as she looks at the curve of her friend's cheek and the blush on her lips and cheek, "the day I understand the way my uncle's mind works is the day your father starts liking him."

Alicent holds back her laugh.

"Oh but did you know her name means red beast in Astapori Valyrian?" the princess says excitedly, "Mili is red, and dyni is beast," she smiles, "and the animal of her house is a fox! I think it's rather smart."

Alicent is more fixated over the fact her friend was telling her there was a variant of Valyrian being spoken in Essos.

At this point, there is a vague, far off sound of a gatekeeper announcing the entry of a Lord. It takes a moment for the princess to think of who could possibly be coming to King's Landing at this hour for a visit. Then she remembers.

Instantly, Rhaenyra grips her skirt and yanks Alicent along with her as she runs to the side of the entrance from the floor they were on.

She grins from ear to ear as Alicent hastily keeps up with her, unsure of why they were running and who they were going to see.

They look out the window and the two girls behold a large man with a broad build and dark hair. Rhaenyra gleefully looks down as the Lord with a pointed nose and a thin beard dismounts his equally massive mount.

Alicent looks at the handsome man and then finally notices the emblem on his horse. "Ah, that must be Cregan Stark."

Rhaenyra grins, leaning into her, though her eyes do not leave him "he is quite a looker."

Alicent turns from the man to her princess, watching as her lips curl in delight and her hair blow with the wind, same as hers, "quite."

The two girls turn to each other, "shall we greet him?"

Alicent turn back to the lord, "if it pleases her grace."

Rhaenyra grins and leans against the window, "Lord Stark!"

Everyone from below looks up to the caller, each of them paying dutiful regard to the princess. The Lord Stark himself lifts his eyes upon the two looking out to him, nodding his head when the red haired girl greets him as well.

"My young princess," he bows, "my young lady," he nods, then looks back up at them.

He takes kindly to the eager look upon the Targaryen's face as she asks, "did you bring one of your direwolves, my lord? I would so love to see them."

Cregan grins, lopsided and wolfish in his own right, "I did not, princess. I do not think any of my wolves would appreciate the balminess of your palace, especially at this season," he leans on his leg, "see, I, myself, am already quite fussed by the temperature."

Rhaenyra laughs, "well, I say. I do hope you do not find your stay here too uncomfortable."

He tilts his head, "with two fair maidens greeting me at my arrival? Impossible."

Rhaenyra gives a pleased grin. Alicent smiles softly.

"An honor most high, fair maidens," he bows, "I must now see to the king."

Cregan is directed to take a certain hall in order to where the king would be at the moment. He walks to the end of the corridor as he was told and stops before a door.

He promptly knocks and announces himself.

He listens for a moment, then clears his throat upon hearing the moan that seeps through the cracks.

He presses his lips and moves away from the door, eye twitching at the crashing sound that comes next, along with 'ah yes, more, fuck, yes-'

He clenches his jaw and walks down the corridor, deciding to wait there, leaning by the window.

Cregan pulls at his collar, feeling his sweat clump in the corners of his flesh. He wonders if it would be too improper to remove his coat. He decides it won't and feels better after a layer of clothing was now off his body.

His attention is commanded by the beastly cry from across the grounds. He looks out to the far off area, narrowing his eyes at the vague sight of what he could tell was a dragon. Even at this distance, it was a mighty sight to see. He thinks about what it would feel to see the thing face to face.

He wonders who the red creature's master was. Perhaps the king's? Or was it the princess's?

He then thinks of the rumors of a wayward dragon flying under the ward of a rider not of royal blood. Perhaps this was the very dragon, now captured and under the keep of the crown.

He wonders if one of the people surrounding the behemoth was the rogue rider, now also in the clutch of the king.

"Lord Stark?"

Cregan turns and sees a woman with tan skin, glistening with sweat, and brown hair, wild and unkempt, cascading down past her shoulders. It appears as though she was tying her laces from behind her, "is that you?"

"Yes. I am Lord Stark."

She smiles as she pulls on her laces, "the king says you may enter now."

Cregan nods, "thank you."

He watches as the woman walks off as she tightens her corset from behind.

He blinks and finds himself asking as she makes a strained sound, "do you require assistance?"

The woman looks at him from over her shoulder, lips curling into a smile, "that depends. Will you be undressing me as well, sire?"

Cregan licks his lips and thinks, "No. I don't think I will."

"Then best not keep the king waiting, milord," she says, turning away, walking off.

Cregan thus enters the room, finding the king sat at the end of a messy bed. Tables and chairs were disarray, things that should not be on the floor were, and the king, himself, was not with a shirt.

Though, in truth, he probably should not be looking at the lilac eyed man, and his scars, and his messy hair, both blown out and sticking to the sides of his face, still he does and thinks enviously about how he could freely let himself cool down at present.

He grips the coat he hung in his arm, "King Daemon."

"Wolf man," Daemon says as he drinks from a cup, "how do you do?"

Cregan knows he could not care less about how he does but he answered curtly nevertheless, "I am well, your grace."

Daemon downs his drink and then stands. He walks over to the table, out of place where it was, and pours himself another cup, "thirsty?"

"No, thank you."

Daemon empties the ewer in his cup then turns to Cregan, "Alina," he says andwalks off, grabbing his garb that was thrown on the bedside table, "a pretty little distraction, the whore, very good with her mouth," he puts on his top, "though greedy with coin," he slips one sleeve on, "but I doubt you'll have problems with that."

Cregan watches as the king clothes himself. A moment passes.

"I doubt you requested me to come down from the North to discuss your favorite whore, your majesty," the lord says.

The king chuckles, raising a brow, "just a whore," he adjusts his collar, "they're all the same after you've emptied your balls."

Cregan chuckles.

The king walks over to his drink and takes it, "though I will say we are to discuss something of a whore."

Daemon walks past Cregan. The man follows suit.

They walk down the hall silently while the king drinks and ignores everyone that greets him.

They then arrive to a room and Daemon opens the door to it, pulling his cup away, swallowing heavily. He walks in deeper and Cregan follows suit.

He is then certain the room is empty and chucks his cup to the side and screams, "SERVANT!"

Cregan watches the king as he storms to the door, just as a servant girl comes running over. Daemon seethes, "where is the Astapori bitch that I put here?"

"My king- I- I-"

"You mean you lost her?!" he grabs her face, "you let the cunt escape?"

The servant cannot respond.

Daemon shoves her away.

Caraxes screeches out, tongue flicking as he did, and my heart races at the sound. I clutch my chest as the dragon keeper orders him to heel.

The king's mount reluctantly follows, jowls dripping with slobber as he is continued to be inspected and groomed. I think about Kotova everytime I bask in the glory of the Blood Wyrm, suddenly realizing my dragonling was immensely kinder, more patient, and warmer than what I thought she was. Never have I seen such a bratty, dramatic, and spoiled creature such as Caraxes. Not only was he a picky eater, ten times that of Kotova, but he was a whiny thing, and threw tantrums at every moment he got.

There were times when I spectated that I even called out to him myself, unable to contain the command from my lips as he terrorized the keepers.

Of course, Caraxes could not care less about me, but there was a moment, I swear that he did heed to my call.

I clutch the paper in my hand and hurriedly sketch Caraxes' profile as he is lead on by the dragon keeper to one side of the pit.

Say what you will about him though, he, regardless, was a kingly steed. His blood red scales were vibrant and so reflective of the house Targaryen that even if its rider was not the king, you'd think it was. Though I found penchant to be excessive, it echoed the fact that he belonged to Daemon Targaryen.

I rip my paper into my chest and gasp when I hear a voice mutter right into my ear.

"You are overly comfortable with your stay here," the king quips. He then rips out the object in my clutch, making the charred pieces of wood I was using to draw with drop to the floor.

"Your grace, please-"

"I warned you not to leave your room again, did I not?" he says as he eyes me.

Caraxes makes a huffing noises upon recognizing his rider.

Daemon inspects my sketches as I make futile attempts to snatch them back. He chuckles, "very good."

I heave as he turns to me with a grin, then to his dragon, "Caraxes," he calls loudly, "māzigon valītsos!" Come boy!

Caraxes immediately pulls away from the dragon keeper, who nearly shoots off as he could not release his rein on the dragon quick enough, and comes to his master.

I freeze as Caraxes nears, both in great awe and fear of the creature.

"By the gods," a voice calls from behind, making me turn over my shoulder, finding a man with dark hair and wide eyes, stepping back in fear.

Daemon throws the paper off to the side and walks back, haphazardly pushing me along with him as he did so. He blurts, "drakarys,"

I yelp and jolt back, shielding my face with my arms when fire the shoots out of the jaws of the mighty creature.

I peak past the shoulder of the king, thinking Caraxes was overly dramatic for exhaling that much fire for a few measly pages of paper. It goes without saying, there is absolutely no remnants of my sketch at all.

I release a sigh as Caraxes ceases his fire and looks at his master who sings him quick praise.

"Bisa iksis skoros iā real zaldrīzes jurnegon hae," Daemon says as he turns to me with a soft but utterly pleased smile.

I scoff at his words. This is what a real dragon looks like.

"Was the slobber stain on your tunic not enough?" I retort, furrowing my brows, "Kotova is a dragon no less real than Caraxes."

Daemon takes his turn to scoff, but he does not get to retort for Caraxes, seemingly recognizing his name, moves close to us, huffing as he did.

"Keligon," stop, we both command with a hand raise, making Caraxes cease his pursuit and whine as he pulled his head back.

Daemon snaps at me, "I do not take kindly to you commanding my ride."

"I am merely trying to not be devoured by him," I snip back.

"Then maybe you shouldn't keep sneaking out of your room to draw beasts, fox cunt!"

"At least my pastimes are not uncouth like yours, dragon spit."

Daemon laughs, "dragon spit?" He looks at me like he was predator surveying his prey, "that's somehow disappointingly unoriginal of you."

"Your grace," the dark haired man interjects, seemingly disinclined for a brawl to spring up between us.

Daemon grinds his teeth the turns to him, "yes, wolf man," he says, "I've not forgotten you." He then grabs my arm and shoves me toward him, "meet the Astapori bitch-"

I topple over into large man because of the king's excessive use of force.

"-your bride."

The two of us turn to the white haired dimwit as he laughs and claps his hands, "congratulations, Stark."

The man, presumably Stark, helps me to stand upright, though his eyes are locked on his monarch, "your majesty?"

He giggles under his breath, not unlike a child that was found in the middle of a chaotic act meant to amuse him, "I do think it a happy pair, a wolf and a fox."

I brush myself off roughly and Stark stares blankly.

"Actually," Daemon shakes his head, "I could not care less not if you do not marry the wench. You may keep her as a plaything, or a slave," he waves his hands, "just keep her."

"I do not understand, your grace," he speaks, "you've summoned me to tell me-"

"To command you," Daemon raises a finger, "to keep this thing under your paw," he turns to me, "lest she thinks of doing something with her mount."

"Her mount?" he knits his dark brows.

"Yes," Daemon turns to him. He watches the man scrunch his nose in confusion. He makes a face, "oh you slow, slobbering pup. This is the dragon rider from Essos-"

Stark turns to me.

"-the scale soother herself," the king chuckles dryly, turning from me back to him, "why even now you witnessed how she tried to command my own mount, Caraxes, as though she had the blood of a Targaryen."

I glare at him, "what insult to compare your blood and mine."

The king gives one loud, exaggerated laugh, "agreed."

Stark blinks as Daemon slaps his arm and walks off, "I cannot keep her here, as you can tell. She grows more confident around my dragon by the day. Though I do not doubt his loyalty to me, I much more do not trust the mind of a plotting woman."

Caraxes makes a sound as Daemon nears him, "I trust you will invite me to your wedding feast, if you ever find her useful enough to marry," he gives a look to Stark, "and do inform me if she poses to be too difficult."

I look at the dark haired man as he looks at the floor.

In truth, I was shocked by the news as well, but then again, I was rather expecting to be kept in a prison cell for the rest of my days, and so this was a rather mellow note to conclude with. It sure beats being dragon food. I do wonder why he did not think of making me into a snack for his dragon.

I take in the man's pressed lips and large frame. I then wonder if this Stark fellow is much more unsavory than his Targaryen counterpart.

I decide not let myself believe this and to start with no ill feelings, "Lady Milidyni," I curtsy, as I tell him my first name.

He turns to me with knit brows, "you are a lady?"

I am partially confused and offended by his shock but I play it off. "We do have nobility in Essos, sire," I look at him then off to the king that was now cooing to his dragon. I scoff, "though I'm sure your king would make us all out to be barbarians with no wits and no governance."

The man finds himself letting out an unexpected laugh. I turn back to him as he chuckles. I watch as his lips curl upward. He is rather handsome like this.

"Cregan." He nods to me in regard, "Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell."

"My father is Lord of Woodway. He also the Master of Beasts."

Cregan slowly nods his head at the information.

I chuckle, recognizing his confusion, "he studies animals and catalogues them accordingly. I think he would be something like a maester here."

"Ahhh," he nods more surely, "I see. Is that were you get your love for animals and why you risked your life for a glimpse of this terror?"

I chuckle under my breath, "yes. I do think I get my love for animals from my father, but he says I get my insanity from my mother."

He chuckles again, covering his mouth as he did, "your mother reminds me of my own."

"Is she also dead?"

He lifts his head to me with a surprised look, "... aye."

"Then they indeed they are the same. May the gods rest both their souls."

I turn to Caraxes as Daemon dotes on him. At the very least I can respect they way he treats his magnificent ride, "he is not so much a terror, I think."

"The king?"

I scowl and shake my head, "Caraxes."

He lets out a breath as he surveys the said creature, "I will take your word for it."

I turn back to the man and offer a smile, "I would say it is good to meet you, but it really isn't and I would much have rather not meeting you at all."

Cregan chuckles again, though this time, it is much louder.

I purse my lips and give him a look.

Daemon, who was stroking Caraxes by the cheek turns upon hearing the sound. He makes a face at the sight of laughter across him.

"Are all the ladies in Essos as honest as you, my lady?"

I snort and cross my arms as I turn to him, "no. Only me."

Cregan laughs. I chuckle under my breath, decidedly thinking he was far too easy to amuse.

He catches his breath and he turns to me to offer out his arm. I hesitate momentarily, in disbelief of his actions. I take his arm nonetheless, and he then leads me off.

He speaks my name softly, as if measuring the way it rolled off his tongue.

I says his name in return, though with less care and more inquiry.

"You are a scale soother?"

I roll my eyes, "your king mocks me with the title."

"Ah," Cregan nods, "that does seem to be a rather unbelievable skill to be had outside the royal lineage."

I let out a half-amused sound.

"Is it correct of me to assume that your dragon is being held here in the dragon pit?"

I watch as he raises a brow. I shake my head, "Kotova is not held anywhere. Her company is her own to keep."

He knit his brows, "I do not follow."

"Kotova," I explain, "the dragon I have bonded with, is not a dragon that I keep the way the Targaryens do. I do not ask of her to do anything for me, save, perhaps, to keep me company and to scare off some men, in exchange for venison or rabbit."

He chuckles and shakes his head, "I am in disbelief."

"Fortunately, I do not mind if you cannot believe me."

"No, I believe you," he says, "I merely think it is a tale you would tell a child," looking off as he pushed his chest, "a beautiful maiden, friends with a dragon."

"Asha," I snort, "I see you are no less insolent than your king."

Cregan holds back a laugh, "it will do you well not to speak of the king all together if you do not have anything well to say, vixen."

Well, he's not wrong.

"I wonder, then, why your dragon has not come to you here to save you from your captor?"

I shake my head, "Kotova sometimes leaves for months at a time. She may not have noticed my absence at all. I doubt she would even look for me, in all honesty."

"Well, how long have you been here?"

"A good four days, including this one."

Cregan nods, "then let us not wait for a fifth then and depart for the North after a meal."

I look at him as he turns to me, "I am loathe to stay in such weather for too long."

I raise a brow, "is the north very cold then?"

His eyes glisten, "worry not, I will not allow you to perish in the cold."

I am inclined to believe he means to protect me, that he means not to harm me, and those words of his were proof of it. But I do not allow myself to be deluded by his pretty smile. He is a man, and men rarely know how to do anything but harm.

Still, I smile back at him and nod, "of course, Lord Stark."

"Cregan," he corrects, "I wish you to call my name, as I wish to call yours."

I nod once more, "Cregan."

#daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #cregan x reader #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #cregan fanfic #cregan stark fanfic #cregan stark fluff #hotd fanfic

[vanrougemoons]

almost midnight break-in.

prompt: Person A breaking into Person B’s room through the window.

• Late Birthday Present for @seareefer ♥ • Word Count: 994

Perhaps this isn’t how you imagined your night going. Actually, it’s not something you wouldn’t expect but it absolutely is not something you imagined happening tonight.

. . .

You had been mindlessly scrolling through your magicam feed. You liked a post Cater made earlier, and oooh’d at a photoshoot preview Vil uploaded. Truly, you were living the best life instead of sleeping and being an example for other students to follow.

You snort and instantly DM a meme to the group chat you have with Ace and Deuce.

Then you hear a tap on your window. Common sense tells you to disregard it because you’re too dulled out from all the historical events you’ve lived through since finding yourself in this world. Common sense also decides that it might just be a tree or something.

You hear a tap again and look up from your phone- waiting for your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting so you can figure out what’s actually going on.

The window shakes, and sure it could just be the wind making your run-down windows shake, as they often do. But you swear that you saw a hand smack against the glass.

You grip your blanket closer to yourself as your window jiggles open and you spot the two beady eyes staring straight at your eyes. In the darkness of your room, you really can’t make out a face but… bright yellow and brown? There are only two answers as to who it could be, and you quite doubt that one of them would crawl into your room at midnight.

Actually, both would- but you don’t think one would do it unless absolutely necessary.

You reach over to the half working lamp next to your bed and turn it on with a click. In a flash, a grinning face stares back at you.

“Shrimpy!”

You sit up in disbelief, “Floyd- how did… actually,” you shake your head, “never mind. Why?”

You should probably know better than to ask this boy why he’s climbing up to your bedroom at eleven at night. But you asked anyways.

The eel-boy in question manages to push the window up enough that he can slide into your room easily. You’re suddenly grateful that Grim’s taking the couch tonight as you deadpan at him, “Floyd.”

He stands up to his full height while stretching upwards, “I was bored.” He replies as if it were the most normal thing ever, you narrow your eyes at him.

“Being bored doesn’t mean that you can scale your way up to a bedroom, y’know?” your voice muffled by your blanket. You’re used to his antics, in fact, you’re surprised at yourself for being surprised that he’s here.

Shaking your head, you resign yourself to your fate and decide that this will simply be an all-nighter as you now have to babysit a bored eel. “Never mind— Got something on your mind?” You pat the space on your bed next to you.

His grimace widens as he strides over to you and easily hangs himself off of you instead of sitting next to you like a normal person. His arms wrapping around your shoulders, his head easily resting on top of yours. “Mmmmmnoooope.”

Even with the extra weight on you, you find yourself comfy. Your phone lays nearby forgotten as you lean your own weight onto Floyd.

And it’s quiet, that’s rare. Very rare when it comes to him.

The wind blows a soft breeze through the open window, and you manage to pull the sheet over this boy on you. A yawn escapes you, and you think you can hear him snort.

He pulls back and stares down at your eyes mischievously, “mmm? Don’t tell me you’re already tired? I just got here- come onnnn. You gotta last a bit longer.”

“What are you even-“ you yawn again, “planning… Leech?”

He reaches for your discarded phone and stares at the time.

11:58p.m.

“Shhhhhh~ Trust me, just a bit more.”

You can’t believe the audacity of this eel-boy, boy-eel? You huff and make a grab for your phone; he laughs and easily pulls it out of your reach.

“Gimme my phone-“

“Nahhh, don’t feel like it.”

You groan and try to grab it again, “you stinky eel, I’ll fry you if you don’t give it here-“

Empty threats that make his laugh turn into cackles as he pulls it away from you again, except this time- He falls backwards with you in tow onto your bed.

His laughter doesn’t stop as you attempt to grab your small entertainment box to no avail. You’ve successfully amused the eel enough, congratulations!

You sigh in exasperation, “did you just come here to terrorize me? I’m gonna sick Jade on you- I swear-“

A wide grin spreads onto his face again, “nu-uh.”

Without missing a beat, you whip your head up to look at him straight in the eyes, “the fuck you mean nu-uh.”

Your phone lights up as it’s turned face-up in his hand.

12:00a.m.

He beams with joy and sits up so fast that he almost smacks his forehead against yours. You’re lucky you ducked to the side and rolled next to him, leaning back on your arms.

“FINALLY.”

You’re taken aback by his sudden, “wh-what?”

He’s practically shining, his grin spreading from ear to ear. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”

. . .

You’re laughing. He’s there grinning at you like a dumbass, and you’re there laughing.

“Is this why you’re here?”

He nods so fast that it reminds you of a bobble-head figure. He looks so proud, and you’re here wiping tears from your eyes from how much you’re laughing.

“I told you I was going to be the first one to say it!”

You feel his weight crash onto you again, and you can’t help but think how much you don’t mind this.

. . .

Your phone stays on the floor forgotten, dinging every couple of minutes with notifications.

#floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twst x reader #twst floyd #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #claude writes !

[bl0rbohandbag]

– some vampire the masquerade x changeling the lost concepts that will not leave me alone.

"but vtm and ctl are from different settings–" shhhhhh :)

before i begin: i have been dabbling in vampire the masquerade and changeling the lost content for a while, i am not a fan of changeling the dreaming and vampire the requiem is unfamiliar to me. anyway! buckle up, enjoy the ride, this is kind of long.

trigger warning for abuse/unhealthy parental relationships because vamps i guess.

first of all: i recently read vtm: bloodstained love. while it focus on the more romantic and sexual aspects of kindred relationships with a lot of references to obsessive/posessive behavior and grotesque acts of love, it also made me wonder how those would translate to platonic or familial relationships. add some changeling shenanigans to that and we have some interesting concepts to play with! and with that being said...

– you're a changeling. kidnapped into arcadia and trapped there for who knows how long. in your durance, you dream of going back home, of reuniting with your friends and family, escaping your keeper to finally, finally enjoy freedom in the world you were born in.

– and one day, you do escape. back into your world, never feeling completely safe with your keeper looking to get you back and huntsmen being a very real threat, but you're ready to rebuild your life and enjoy your newfound freedom.

– there are various mentions throughout the ctl books on how unsuspecting or heedless changelings might have their freedom stolen again, this time by kindred. so, as it turns out, you'll have to deal with creatures other than the true fae who are more than willing to keep you caged!

the angst potential in a changeling reuniting with ther parent(s) only to find out they've become something inhuman, and not all that different from their keeper is unmatched.

maybe you watch them from a distance first. maybe you excitedly seek them out. maybe you just randomly bump into your parent by complete chance, after presuming them dead or deciding to abandon your old life. maybe they find you.

but the point is: they're kindred. so different from when you last saw them, as a teenager, as a child, before you were taken. as if having huntsmen and your keeper after you wasn't trying enough, a vampire parent comes (back) into your life to make it even more complicated.

a ventrue dad will make his ghouls your bodyguards, following you day and night. it makes you insanely uncomfortable, as you liken them to changelings serving true fae back in arcadia. he says it's because of his own dangerous kindred affairs that might affect you, but after an unplesant encounter with the huntsmen he might just decide you shouldn't be out and about at all.

your parent is either a neonate or an ancilla by the time your return from arcadia. your fetch is dead for whatever reason, expired, after living a life in your stead, automatically making the vampire believe their child is dead– now imagine their surprise and confusion when they see you– real you, living and breathing. and maybe you're distraught, too, seeing that they haven't aged a day or should, depeding on how long you've been gone, be most definetly dead.

(this is absolutely NOT going to send the vampire parent into a mental breakdown and spiral into obsession upon discovering the child they have lost and buried was literally a soulless copy of their real child who got kidnapped by faeries. a clone made out of twigs and a cat's eyes that stole their child's place and they never noticed. everything is just fine. it does not them affect them mentally at all :3)

(bonus points if the fetch was killed by the vampire parent's enemies after being entagled in their mess. they feel like they are getting a second chance and will absolutely not screw it up! cue you, poor changeling, being locked away or put under heavy surveillance.)

on the other hand, a kindred parent who currently has a living fetch of their child just being EXTREMELY distraught when they keep spotting someone who looks exactly like their kid at random places they definetly shouldn't be at is very funny and kind of unsettling!

(a vampire mom just feeding on mortals at the club, socializing with other kindred, perhaps dealing with some unresolved issues with her sire, etc. Then she spots you, her real kid, unbeknownst to her, just chilling, among all those dangerous vampires, when you're supposed to be in your dorm room at least a thousand miles from there. she calls the fetch's phone, expecting you to pick up and start explaining yourself. your fetch answers the phone, talks to her, sleep-drunk and confused as to why she's calling so late, but the person she's looking at has made no motion at all. they're not talking. they have not picked up the phone. but that's her kid's face, she's sure. what the fuck?)

for low-humanity ancillae/elder kindred, having their child back might bring about long-forgotten mortal feelings of genuine parental love, although they might express in the very unorthodox way kindred would. they simply do not understand why their child does not want to be around them. they just want to bond with you and keep you safe where kindred and fae can't get to you, make up for lost time. what do you mean they're "just like your keeeper"?

i think a lot of kindred parents will leave you be, mostly brujah or gangrel, knowing you'll be safer if they keep you away from their world. provided there was no fetch to replace you, they think it's amazing enough you were found alive and well after years of being a missing person. you don't like talking about what happened in your... "durance"... fine, they'll keep the investigators off your back, too. they might not even know you're no longer human. but they are going to check on you once in a while, or keep tabs on you, or even have some of their people watch you from a distance. just to make sure.

(just don't let them catch wind of all the changeling shenanigans or huntsmen attacks on your person. that might just change their mind...)

kindred parents might believe you're safer away from their world, yes, but they can just as easily bring you into the mess of kindred society without a second thought.

not very fun being a fairest when your toreador mother insists you show your mien to impress her fellow clan mates and other kindred with your overwhelming beauty. she's always been a pageant mom, so this shouldn't surprise you. there's several layers of wrongness to this, from having your changeling identity exposed to multiple vampires to further your mother's social status to this very situation bringing back so many unpleasant memories from your durance, and it's bound to end badly.

(the toreador pageant mom could very easily be a nosferatu pageant mom, a cleopatra now living vicariously through your fae-given beauty.)

(she will realize how terrible a mistake that was when vampires start really paying attention to you. or not. who knows.)

(gifts that could easily have come from a true fae lord start pouring in. letters written in excessive passion, bouquets of bloody roses, dresses made out of human skin, all delivered by equally dazed-looking ghouls. perhaps your mother will know, then, she fucked up severely. or maybe she'll just tell you to be grateful for those wonderful gifts.)

on another hand, a nosferatu parent taking one look at their fairest child's mien and deciding "oh. no kindred can see you like. ever. stay away from toreador specifically". you don't know what a toreador is, but you'll try to heed the advice.

your ancilla mother meets your motley and proceeds to show them baby pictures of you, taken in the 1870s shortly before your abduction to Faerie. they are very well preserved and you look most proper in your little sailor outfit.

you have a beast/ogre seeming and your gangrel parent thinks you're pretty rad :) you go hunting together.

your tzimisce dad has living furniture made out of human skin, but it's nothing you haven't seen in arcadia before. he's a little disappointed by your lack of enthusiasm, and very offended when you tell him your keeper had better taste in couches. trying to evade a tzimisce dad after he's been made aware of your existence is a difficult task, and you will get caught and held captive at one point (for your safety, of course!). if there is a fetch currently living your life, they will be immediately killed or horribly tortured (read: vicissitude) for the crime of decieving the tzimisce and impersonating you, regardless of you already having decided to leave said fetch alone.

(tzimisce dad thinks you should be thankful. he dealt with the imposter. shouldn't you be happy?)

(if he’s got cash and has some land within his domain to spare, he might let you build a little home not too far from his own to give you a semblance of independence to try and settle you down. might.)

(on the other hand, you have the chance to become a really good escape artist. take your time in captivity with your tzimisce dad to practice your escaping and running away skills, after all, every good changeling needs it! you also get the bonus of reliving your childhood/teenagehood with all the sneaking out.)

(quick intermission: all of these concepts might result in low-clarity for the changeling?? i'm not too sure how clarity damage works yet.

update: it absolutely might!)

your malkavian mother thinks she's plagued with visions of her missing child, glimpses of what they might look nowadays, wherever they are. this is actually you, visiting her in her dreams through oneiromancy.

(everyone thought, back then, that it was just a scare. you wandered into the forest and for ten hours people searched for you, only to find you safe and sound, without a scratch in your body or a speck of dirt in your shoes hours later. but she knew better. she knew that wasn't really you. it haunted her for the rest of her life, and it haunts her unlife even now. she never made it to the hedge.)

you can't take your tremere parent ANYWHERE. you give in after endless nagging and take them to a goblin market, but their arrogance will get them roped into terrible deals if you don't keep your eyes on them full time. you do take this as an opportunity to show off your changeling capabilities. you're in your element.

(you also drop life-altering bits of Faerie lore at random or inappropriate times. it sends them spiraling. you just hope they won't share it with anyone...)

darkling changeling just chilling with their nosferatu dad in the sewers, sharing rats.

and that's all for today, folks.

#i put more effort into this than i should have #child in here is being used as a gender neutral term to daughter/son just to clarify #there is a lot that can be expanded upon like. how long does it take for the changeling to figure out their parent is a vampire? #how long does it take for the vampire to figure out their child is a changeling? #there is also a very real possibility of kindred trying to embrace/ghoul their changeling child not knowing how that is not going to work #we haven't even discussed court changelings. #and let's not get into changeling blood right now lmao #that's a whole can of worms we'll open at another time. #i had vtm in mind but if you want to interpret that as vtr please feel free!! #vtm #ctl #vampire the masquerade #changeling the lost #toreador #tzimisce #ventrue #gangrel #malkavian #long post. #wod #world of darkness #chronicles of darkness

[bit-dodgy-innit]

Seeing Double

Set in The Shape of Youniverse 

Summary: Your first ultrasound for Baby Number Two includes a surprise twist 

Pairing: Steven x afab!reader, Marc x afab!reader, and Jake x afab!reader. Reader is married to the system 

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: G (for once!!!!)

CW/TW: A dose of angst and anxiety, mentions of pregnancy and past trauma, heinous fudging of how medical technology works, plus lots of fluff and soft!moon boys 

A/N: HI HELLO ALL YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE SEE THE SHAPE OF YOUNIVERSE IS NOT OVER!!! 😅😅 This is the first of the asks that have been collecting dust in my inbox while I was filling celebration prompts and ~trying to live~ Cheers to the lovely nonnie who requested it! 

“Oh my days, that's wonderful!!”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Dr. Slater had been your OB/GYN for nearly ten years, and delivered Nyla, but this disparity between your and Steven’s reactions was the first time you’d ever rendered him speechless. “I, um…I’ll give you two a moment.”

You stared at the ultrasound machine’s screen in shock, while Steven gazed upon it in awe. The word kept ringing in your ears. Twins.

“Blimey, do you reckon they’re fraternal or identical? It’s a good thing we sprung for the larger place after all, innit…oh my goodness, just wait until we tell Nyla there are two babies in your tummy! Her little mind will be blown, right darling? Darling…”

You couldn’t imagine Nyla’s reaction to the news, because currently, it was your little mind that was blown. Twins. Two more mouths to feed, two more school tuitions, two more little bodies to push out of you. Simultaneously.

“You alright, darling?”

“We’re going to be outnumbered.”

“Nothing we can’t handle…hey,” Steven sat himself on the ledge of the examination bed and put his hand on your arm. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head back and forth, and when you spoke, your voice was thick with tears. “I don't think I can do this.”

Sobs promptly followed after your admission, and Steven gathered you into his arms right away.  “Hey, hey no…it’s going to be grand, okay? Awww sweetheart, seeing you like this is breaking my heart.”

“It’s just…it’s a lot to take in, and it’s not what we planned!! We have to double everything and it’s all going to be happening at once and what if–” you paused to heave and hyperventilate, pulling much-needed oxygen into your lungs, “ –what if I can’t handle it?”

“Shhhhhh, you’re going to be brilliant,” he assured you, then pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Besides this isn’t your first curveball now, is it? What with Nyla being a surprise, not to mention your ex-avatar husband having D.I.D and the like.”

“I’m juh…I’m just scared!” you wailed.

“It’s alright to be scared,” Steven didn’t hesitate in validating you. “But darling, you’re not going to be doing this alone.”

“I know, but I have to do the hard bit,” you pointed out plaintively, using Steven’s self-coined jaunty term for the burden of motherhood.

“That’s true, but even so, we’re all going to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible. You have us, and your parents – we wanted to ask them to come out earlier anyway pre-due date– then there’s Charlotte and Harry, Doctor Slater, we can even book Pippa again too so she'll start right away if you’re worried about latching. Everyone wants to help you, my love. ”

It was moments like this you remembered exactly why you married your husband. The sobs wracking your body prevented you from articulating your gratitude, so instead you burrowed into his chest, likely rubbing some of your makeup onto his shirt and definitely smearing ultrasound gel across his trousers.

“Esto es una bendición,” you heard Jake murmur, “We’ve both been through so much more, so much worse than this, nena. Today is a good day, and I won’t let you think any differently.”

“I’m processing, Jake.”

“Yo sé,” he acknowledged, “but I’m also not going to let you spiral, bien?”

“I don’t spiral.”

Jake snorted in disbelief. You pulled back to look him in the eye, a challenge. He met your questioning gaze with a single arched brow that told you he wasn't buying it.

“Well this is something that I’m allowed to spiral about,” you defended yourself, only to realize mid-argument, “oh God. I’m going to be huge.”

“You won’t have to lift a finger. I’ll carry you everywhere,” he offered. The impracticality of his solution made you giggle. Jake rejoiced at his ability to get a rise out of you, “Ay, ahí está ella.”

“Gracias Papi,” you could feel yourself drifting back down into the land of rational thought, until you remembered who was missing, and your stomach became a lead balloon.

“Que ocurre?”

“Is Marc…what’s he doing? God, if I’m freaking out then he must be completely–”

“We’ll figure it out,” your husband interrupted you in his midwest-tinged American accent. “We always do.”

“Do you regret trying for another?” you asked him.

“No baby,” Marc denied instantly, pulling you close to him again. “Do you?”

“No…but this is a lot. It’s a lot,” you confessed.

“I know, and thankfully, they’re not coming tomorrow. So we have time, okay? Honey, you’ve been my rock through so much, it’s time for you to let us be yours now, deal?”

You sniffled, then agreed, “Okay.”

Marc’s sure fingers began to stroke through your hair. You luxuriated in his touch, your heart rate finally descending to a somewhat normal pace.  

A knock on the door fractured the quiet moment you and your husband had found. You two sprang apart, Marc lunged for the counter to grab you a tissue, while you wiped your eyes and nose in a totally futile effort to hide the fact you’d been crying.

“Come in!” you called. Doctor Slater had seen worse, after all.

The doctor did just that, closed the door behind him, and only after he resumed his seat did he begin with “I owe you two an apology.”

Fuck, you thought. There was something wrong. You gripped Marc’s hand for dear life waiting for the ax to drop.

“I hope this isn’t too much of an inconvenience, but we need to do the ultrasound again. I just found out that this is broken,” he revealed, gesturing to the machine next to him, still broadcasting the image of your two unborn children. “There’s a lag on the image, which means I’m not so sure you’re having twins after all.”

Thank goddess you were already sitting down, because otherwise you would’ve fainted, straight up. You did swoon however, and both Marc and Doctor Slater reached for you.

“I am so unbelievably sorry for the bait-and-switch,” he apologized further, “your body is undergoing enough. I’m ninety-five percent sure there’s only one baby in there, so if you can swing it diary-wise, we’ll move next door and confirm it.”

You wanted to say “Sounds good, doc”, but what came out was “I’m going to throw up.”

Your declaration sent your husband scurrying to grab the little room waste bin for you.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. There’s going to be a firm talking-to between me and my staff once I’ve sent you home.”

“It’s okay,” you exhaled, unsure of who you were trying to comfort more, Doctor Slater or yourself. “It’s all good. When will the new room be ready?”

“It should be ready now,” he told you.

“Does she have to move?” your husband asked, his voice revealing that Steven was fronting again. “You’ve had quite the shock just now.”

“I’m okay honey, just help me up,” you assuaged him. You were barely ten weeks along which meant there was no bump to contend with yet, but given the emotional rollercoaster of the past twenty minutes, you wanted your husband to steady you.  

“You sure you’re alright?” Doctor Slater asked. “We can get you a wheelchair.”

You shook your head to dismiss the notion and arranged yourself to dismount from the examination table. “No need, but it’s times like these I’d give anything for a drink, you know?”

Both men burst out laughing at your admission and you proceeded next door to the functional ultrasound machine.  

*** On the ride home you asked Steven, “Are you disappointed there’s only one baby in there after all?”

“Not at all darling,” he instantly averred.

“I won’t be cross if you are. Even just a little.”

Your husband studied you to determine whether your question was a trap. After a long, careful pause, he at last spoke, “Maybe a little disappointed. But I’m over the moon either way.”

“I think it’s sweet how excited you were. You didn't miss a beat, while I went and had a proper meltdown,” you chuckled. “We’re going to have to start thinking of boy names.”

“Ooh yes,” Steven concurred, “I actually had an idea earlier, how do you like–”

“No names of famous anthropologists Steven,” you knew exactly where he was going with this.

He deflated a little, then tried again, “Alright what about–”

“Or archeologists, or anyone in the social sciences, okay?” If Steven had gotten his way with Nyla, your daughter would have been named Hortense or some other incredibly outdated name to honor a dead scholar. “The names have to be personal to both of us.”

Steven harrumphed and even though he didn’t say anything else, you knew this wasn't the end of the conversation.  

“I want to…I’d like to include Ro–um, Randall’s name somehow.”

You took Marc’s hand at once. “Baby yes, that’d be great. Definitely adding Randall to the list.”

“I am happy, you know, that we’re having another,” he told you softly.

Your cheeks burned with shame, “I know, I’m sorry I panicked -- I wasn’t thinking.”

“I’m not mad,” Marc clarified, “But I don’t want you taking on my…shit, okay?”

“Well, I’m your wife, I can’t help it,” you shrugged, “besides that’s the point of having me right? Of us? We help each other with our shit.”

Marc bristled, “I know but–”

“Not buts Marc, other than your fantastic one,” you cut him off. You knew “feelings” were tricky for your husband still, so sometimes it was best to diffuse with a bit of cheeky humor. “You’re stuck with me, and this baby boy confirms it.”

“Alright, fine,” he surrendered. “I know better than to argue with you.”

You took Marc’s hand in yours and kissed the world-weary skin on the back of it. “Smart man.”

A/N: I’m not sure why when I got this ask I instantly was like “reader (me) would freak” but even with the angst, I hope I was able to give everyone a good dose of loving daddy!Steven and the rest of the boys too! 

Translations:

Esto es una bendición - This is a blessing 

nena - babe 

Yo sé - I know

bien - okay 

Ay, ahí está ella - Hey, there she is 

Gracias Papi - Thanks Daddy 

Que ocurre - What’s wrong? 

Taglist: @twwcs​, @rmoonstoner​, @hot-mess-express1​, @murdickdocked, @toracainz​, @saahmi, @unspokenmoon​, @winterbiipp​, @avatarofseshat​ @ilikeoldermenhelp, @losers-club6​, @harrys-tittie​, @ninebluehearts​, @lucianadraven32​, @dawnsutopia​, @strawberry1042-blog @nikitawolfxo​, @weirdo125 @damnzelsoul​ @missmarmaladeth​ @welcometostayingawake​ @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction​

#moon knight #moon knight smut #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant x reader #steven grant x female reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfiction #marc spector x reader #marc spector x female reader #marc spector x you #jake lockely x female reader #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #marc spector fanfiction #jake lockley fanfiction #oscar isaac #oscar issac x reader #oscar isaac x you #oscar isaac fanfiction

[catindabag]

TBOSAS on Crack short take (55)

Prof.Click: Alright! Settle down, my children! Let’s communicate~!

Felix: Professor, are you perhaps drunk right now?

Prof.Click: President Ravinstill?

Felix: No, I’m Felix-

Prof.Click: Sir, why are you in my class and not running the country?

Felix: Yup. She’s drunk.

Coryo: Ugh. Who gave her a bottle of posca before class?

Diana: Wasn’t she drinking two gallons of water at the cafeteria earlier?

Festus: Are you sure about the water part?

Diana: No. Not really.

Prof.Click: Shhhhhh~! Quiet, my children. We are about to start a brand new session!

Festus: A new session?

Prof.Click: Yes! Our first official ✨group therapy✨ session!

Juno: I thought our school can’t afford a real therapist?

Prof.Click: That’s correct! We can’t! That’s why I’m being forced by our fantastic Dean Highbottom to do the “therapy” part.

Festus: But you’re not even a licensed therapist-

Prof.Click: I’m your communications professor, boy! I’m the closest thing to a therapist! I can even communicate with squirrels!

Felix: *sighs* This is why drinking posca and whiskey should be banned in the workplace.

Coryo: Class Pres, why can’t the school afford a real therapist? I thought ✨The Academy✨ was pretty well off-

Felix: Unfortunately, our school is currently facing bankruptcy due to the infamous Heavensbee Hall Flooding Incident. So-

Coryo: It’s our fault.

Felix: Yeah.😑

Coryo: Well, that explains why Dean Highbottom is still forcing us to go to every ✨Late Night Live Shows with Lucky and Jubilee✨.

Felix: True. Our crazy interviews are financially helping the school buy more booze.

Coryo: You mean books, right?

Felix: Sure. Whatever you say, bro.

Coryo: More sponsors, more money, I guess?

Prof.Click: Hey, stop talking to President Ravinstill, Snow! Our first group therapy session is starting!

Coryo: But-

Prof.Click: First question! How did you guys survived the war?

Festus: Professor, I think that’s too personal-

Prof.Click: Mr. Creed, fire away.

Festus: No.

Prof.Click: Answer my question.

Festus: I refuse-

Prof.Click: Detention will be given to those who defy me and my dumb questions!

Festus: That doesn’t even make sense!

Prof.Click: Your odds don’t make sense!

Festus: Fine! But don’t share this information or I’ll sue you.

Prof.Click: Lol. No promises.

Festus: I- Um- I survived the war because my crazy mama forced me to hide and live in a rat infested dumpster for 2 years when the rebels infiltrated our home!😭

Coryo: Festus, are your okay?

Prof.Click: That’s rough, buddy. Who’s next?☺️

Coryo: Professor, are we not going to address the fact that Creed’s mother just left him to rot in a rat infested dumpster for 2 years?!

Festus: It’s fine, Coryo. Don’t feel too sorry for me. My crazy mama even forced my germaphobe dad to do it too.😞

Lysistrata: Well, that explains why Creed’s favorite hobby is dumpster diving for food coupons.

Prof.Click: Enough chitchat! Monty, you’re next!

Palmyra: The war? What war? I don’t remember any war~.😊

Iphigenia: Why is Monty acting like the Dark Days never happened?

Coryo: Sadly, that’s just Monty’s way of coping with her war trauma.

Iphigenia: So why is she smiling like that?

Coryo: You do know about the infamous Rebel Pie Incident, right?

Iphigenia: No. Not really.

Coryo: Oh, you sweet summer child.

Iphigenia: Why? What happened?

Coryo: Ask Florus. He knows more about that incident than I do.

Iphigenia: *turns to Florus*

Florus: No! You can’t make me talk!

Iphigenia: Florus, tell us about the Rebel Pie Incident.

Florus: Never!!

Iphigenia: I’ll ban you and your family from my grocery store if you don’t tell us~.☺️

Florus: Ughhh! Fine! But don’t blame me for ruining your day!

Arachne: Just spit it out already, Flory!

Florus: *sighs* The only reason why Palmyra’s crazy family survived the war is because her unhinged mama fed the rebels her notoriously deadly apple pies when they broke into Monty’s mansion.

Iphigenia: So the rebels died from accidental food poisoning?!

Coryo: That wasn’t an accident, Moss. That was a premeditated murder in the form of self-defense.

Florus: Yup. I was there when it happened. And yes, I still have nightmares. And- *is having war flashbacks*

Coryo: Florus, are you okay?

Clemensia: Florus, do you need us to call the medics?

Florus: Those rebels didn’t just die peacefully, Clemmie!! They (censored)! They freaking (censored) in front of my eyes!😭

Coryo: Florus, please stop saying (censored)!😩

Florus: Coryo, they really (censored) in front of me!!😭

Coryo: Florus, please-

Florus: I can’t believe those poor bastards really (censored) and died horribly when they ate Monty’s accursed pies!!

Iphigenia: Can a grown man really (censored) from eating expired pies?!

Coryo: But seriously, guys, please stop saying (censored)!

Festus: (censored).

Diana: Don’t say it again, Creed. You’re scaring poor Coryo and Clemensia!

Festus: (censored).

Apollo: He said it again!

Felix: Stop saying (censored), Creed!

Festus: You’re saying (censored) too, Class Pres.

Clemensia: I’m going home!😫

Palmyra: Well, it’s what they get for breaking into my mama’s mansion without an invitation~.😊

Prof.Click: Sorrows and prayers. Who’s next?😀

Lysistrata: Coryo, you go.

Coryo: Fine. The only reason why I survived the war is because my family and I illegally traded and bartered all of our expensive belongings for food.

Lysistrata: Oh, that’s not so bad-

Coryo: I also had to fight off a crazy cannibal who wanted to eat me.

Persephone: Don’t look at me. It wasn’t me!

Coryo: And I also had to wrestle my pesky neighbors for stealing my precious cabbages.

Prof.Click: Cool.

Coryo: There was also that time where I had to punch a former congressman who wanted to trade me for 10 cans of lima beans.

Festus: Trade you?!

Coryo: Oh, and one time, I had to fight a pack of rabid dogs for some garbage.

Prof.Click: Lol. Is that all?

Coryo: Nope. That’s just the half of it.

Lysistrata: Coryo, are you okay?

Coryo: No. I’m traumatized for life, ✨Bestie✨~!🥰

Arachne: Well, that explains why Coryo is now willing to marry and become Sejanus Plinth’s little housewife~.

Coryo: At least I’m going to be fabulously richer than you, Crane.

Prof.Click: See! I told you that this group therapy session was helpful-

Felix: For reminding us of our war traumas!!

Prof.Click: To be fair, Mr. President, we already lost our marbles even before the war ended.

Felix: *sighs* Maybe everyone’s right. Maybe we should just change our school into a mental asylum.😞

Coryo: And I thought our school was already a mental asylum for the rich and me.😑

Prof.Click: Hilarius, you share!

Hilarius: Um- I-

Prof.Click: Don’t be shy, Heavensbee. We’re all here to support you.😊

Hilarius: I don’t believe you.

Prof.Click: Do you want a demerit?

Hilarius: *sighs* I survived the war because my creepy old man hid me inside his super secret basement when the rebels destroyed my family’s gold encrusted mansion.

Arachne: What’s inside the basement?

Hilarius: You don’t want to know.

Arachne: Tell us, Hilari.

Hilarius: No.

Prof.Click: Demerit and detention-

Hilarius: Fine! The basement was filled to the brim with Crassus Snow’s cute candid photos!

Coryo: What the actual f*ck, Heavensbee!

Felix: Well, that’s another restraining order for Mr. Heavensbee Sr.

Hilarius: This is why we don’t share our war traumas with each other!😭

Festus: By the way, where’s Sejanus?

Coryo: Yeah. Where’s my sugar daddy- I mean, boyfriend?

Urban: Don’t be mad-

Coryo: Urban, where’s my fiancé?

Urban: I think I accidentally locked him inside Highbottom’s broom closet earlier-

Coryo: You what?!

Urban: We should better go and check on him.

Prof.Click: No! You can’t leave! Our first group therapy session isn’t over yet!

Felix: Professor, please stop this madness! You already made Florus and Hilarius cry!

Prof.Click: They can cry harder!

Felix: That is it! I’m calling Highbottom to suspend you!

Prof.Click: Joke’s on you, Sir! I’m also Highbottom’s therapist!

Coryo: That just explains why Highbottom’s drunk all the time!

*Meanwhile, with Sejanus*

Sejanus: *is still locked inside the broom closet* Guys? Hey, guys! Is anyone there? Hello? Hello~?! Coryo?! Clemmie?! Festus?! Class Pres?! Can somebody help me?! Hello?! I have money!! Please call my boyfriend! I’m scared!! Get me out of here!😭

#tbosas #crack #crack post #crackship #coriolanus snow #president snow #sejanus plinth #lucy gray baird #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #the hunger games #suzanne collins #thg #thg fic #thg incorrect quotes #tbosas incorrect quotes #tbosas fic #felix ravinstill #festus creed #arachne crane #clemensia dovecote #palmyra monty #lysistrata vickers #hilarius heavensbee #snowplinth #coriolanus x sejanus #thg fanfiction #casca highbottom #snowjanus

[spine-buster]

Lost in the Memory | Ryan O'Reilly | Volume III

gif credit @/heddy

A/N: This is just porn, basically.

“It’s gonna be good to be fuckin’ home, I can tell you that much.”

A delay at the airport meant that Ryan and the boys didn’t land in Toronto until the middle of the night.  Factoring in the drive from the airport to Summerhill, he didn’t walk through the door until almost 2:30 in the morning.  He walked in to the low hum of the TV, an old episode of Law and Order: SVU playing.  Whitney was asleep on the couch, clearly having tried to wait up for him, but failing.  She looked cozy under the blanket, and so peaceful that Ryan almost didn’t want to disturb her.

Though he had been living in the house since being traded, for what felt like the first time since he moved, he took a long look around the main floor.  It had been Whitney’s and Whitney’s alone for the past ten days.  Truthfully, it had been Whitney’s and Whitney’s alone since he bought it for her.  When he bought it, he did so because when he and Whitney saw it, she fell in love with it.  It reminded her of the house she grew up in, just that it was in a city, and Ryan wanted her to have it.  During the restoration and renovation, and over the years, she had truly put her mark on it.  Her stamp was everywhere, and that’s what he loved most about it.  It was a home for her, and it was a home for him, too, because wherever Whitney was, was home. 

Ryan bent down so he could be near eye contact with her, taking in her features.  Her beautiful long lashes she’d had since they were kids.  The littlest scar on her chin from when Owen accidentally hit her with a ministick.  Her perfectly shaped lips he loved to kiss whenever he could.  Her long, beautiful hair he loved to run his hands through.  He did just that, as softly as he could, to wake her up.  “Whitney…sweetness…” he cooed.  She didn’t wake up at first.  “Sweetness…” he was slightly louder.

Her eyes fluttered open, looking almost in disbelief that he was in front of her.  “Snook…” she mumbled.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said.

“I tried to stay up, Snook—”

“—Don’t apologize, sweetness.  It’s okay.  Let’s just go to bed.  C’mon,” he said, grabbing at her arms and wrapping them around his neck.  He proceeded to pick her up bridal style and carry her up the stairs to her bedroom.  Their bedroom.

Whitney was smart and had already changed into her pajamas.  After he laid her in bed, Ryan stripped out of his clothes quickly, leaving only his boxers on before her crawled into bed and pulled the sheets and comforter over their bodies.  “D’you want me to make you some French toast tomorrow morning?” she asked.

“Shhhhhh,” he cooed, snuggling up behind her as the big spoon.  She had work tomorrow, so he didn’t even know why she was offering.  Well, that was a lie…he did know: because she was Whitney.  And they always looked after one another.  But he wasn’t going to be that person – waking her up at 2am only to agree for her to wake up early to make him breakfast.  What was he, a chauvinist?  “Go to sleep, sweetness.  Don’t worry about tomorrow morning.”

He heard a little sigh leave her.  “I’m so happy you’re finally home, Snook.”

“Me too.  Me too.”

***

When Whitney got home from work that Monday, Ryan was making dinner.  She walked into the house smelling like homemade chicken soup, which she loved.  It reminded her of growing up.  And though she was grown up now, she was always nostalgic for her past; she thought most people were, especially if they enjoyed their childhoods.

“Welcome home,” Ryan was already looking over his shoulder at her as she made her way into the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” she smiled.  “Damn Snook, I could get used to this.”

He smiled.  “Smells good?”

“When you’re my husband I hope the house smells like this all the time.”

Whitney didn’t realize exactly which words were leaving her mouth when she opened it.  But when they finally came out, she couldn’t believe her mind strung the sentence together.  It was as if her innermost thoughts were starting to overpower her conscience.  She watched as Ryan chuckled slightly.  “I have some good news,” he immediately changed the subject.

Whitney gulped, pushing everything down.  “What’s that?”

“I get my cast off soon,” he revealed.

Whitney smiled wide.  “You can finally put that hand back to good use.”

“You mean, like, by scoring goals?”

“Obviously.  It’s not like it’s useful for much else.”

Whitney yelped as Ryan grabbed hold of her and pulled her towards his body, wrapping his arms around her midsection so she couldn’t escape.  “You take that back right now,” he grumbled playfully.  “These hands have probably done more to pleasure you than your own hands.”

“You severely underestimate how I often I masturbate to the thought of you fucking me,” she kept playing her game.

“You’re a sexual deviant.”

“You started it,” she winked.

Ryan peppered her face with kisses.  “I’m so happy to be home with you, sweetness.  How was work?”

I’d rather be taking care of our kids right now.  “It was fine.  Same old.  Can we cuddle on the couch tonight while watching episodes of SVU?”

Ryan smiled.  “I don’t want to do anything else.”

After eating their chicken soup and cleaning up the kitchen, Ryan queued up episodes of Law and Order while Whitney washed her makeup off and changed into something more comfortable.  When she emerged from the bedroom, Ryan was already on the couch and ready with a blanket.  She was wearing a pair of bike shorts and one of Ryan’s newest Leafs workout shirts.  While it was no doubt big on her, it was tight around her chest, making it very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra and very obvious she’d appreciate the warmth of his body and the blanket.  The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed dramatically when he saw her.  Without even trying, she was so incredibly sexy to him. 

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded.  “C’mere, sweetness,” he opened up the blanket, allowing her to crawl in and snuggle up next to him, draping her legs over his.  After placing one of his hands in between her thighs, he pressed play. 

It was about halfway through the first episode they watched that Ryan’s hand began massaging between Whitney’s thighs.  She didn’t think much of it – he massaged her thighs all the time when they were cuddling like this – but then ever so slowly it began to move up.  By the time the second episode started, his hand was right near her core.  She looked over at him at one point, a small smile playing on her face.  “You can put your hand down my shorts, Snook.  It’s been ten years – you don’t have to ask for permission.”

“Yes I do,” he said quickly, moving his hand quickly so it slipped underneath the waistband of her shorts and back down to between her thighs.  He cupped her core briefly before his fingers played with her lips.  Slowly.  Painstakingly slowly.  As they watched the next episode, he teased her pussy much longer than Whitney was anticipating, though she wasn’t complaining.  Eventually, she almost couldn’t focus between her hero Olivia Benson and what Ryan was doing.  She’d close her eyes to focus on the feeling, then open them to focus on the show, rotating back and forth.

“Snook?”

“Sweetness?”

“You coming to Toronto was the best thing to ever happen,” she sighed out, her eyes closed.

He giggled at her words.  “Oh yeah?”

She let out another sign.  “Can we…” she began before trailing off.

“Tell me sweetness.  What do you want?”

“D’you remember when I came to visit you in St. Louis the first time after you won the Cup and we—we were cuddling on your couch watching TV and we—we—”

“Lie down,” he whispered, knowing exactly what she was referencing.  “Get comfortable, sweetness.”

His hand left her hot core as she lay down on the couch how she wanted.  Ryan got right behind her, his body flush against hers, mimicking every curve before he pulled his sweatpants down to free his cock.  He stroked himself quickly a few times before pulling her shorts down enough that he could slip his cock between her thighs and slowly into her core to cockwarm.  Whitney let out a satisfied sigh at the feeling, and Ryan could feel her body fully relax into his.

The sigh she let out was long and cathartic, as if all the strains and stresses of the day were released with it and she was finally at peace.  “That feels so nice,” she whispered.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” he commented, combing some of her hair back with his fingers. 

“I know.  Does it feel nice for you too?”

“Of course,” he replied.

“You’re so good to me, Snook.”

Ryan kissed her temple before draping his arm over her body, queuing the next episode of SVU to start.  They lay on the couch together in that position for at least two more episodes, making light conversation or commentary on the episode every so often.  Every time she moved slightly, Whitney was reminded of how good it felt to have Ryan inside her so intimately, even if it wasn’t sexual.  While she knew it was probably going to end with them making love eventually (at least it did last time), she truly valued just being like this with him.

While Benson and Stabler were trying to solve a case, Whitney could feel Ryan begin to slip his hand under her (his) shirt.  His hand eventually cupped one of her breasts, taking his time to knead it softly before he began to pinch her nipple.  Ryan could feel her chest rise and fall, little sighs escaping her.  Then, he began to kiss the exposed skin between her neck and shoulders, and there were more little sighs coming out of her that he could feel made his cock harden.  Eventually, neither were preoccupied with the crime Benson and Stabler were trying to solve; they were only preoccupied with each other.

“Snook?”

“Sweetness?”

“Make love to me, Snook.  Nice and slow.”

Ryan peppered her exposed skin with more kisses before he began to move his hips so he could pump his cock in and out of her in their spooning position.  He took it nice and slow, just like she wanted, because her sighs were driving him absolutely insane.  To him, they were worthy of the finest orchestras in the world.  “S’at good, baby?”

“Yeah, Ry.  It’s so good.”

“You need it like this?” he asked.  Whitney nodded her head.  “Tell me why.”

“Because I’m at work all day and all I can think about is wanting to be with you,” she said.  “And when it’s like this it’s so nice because it’s so…soft.”

Ryan couldn’t help but smile, kissing her again, making sure he didn’t get too far ahead of himself and go any faster than she wanted.  She felt incredible as always, and he was going to take advantage of being inside of her for as long as possible.  “Reminds me of the first time it happened on a couch,” Ryan whispered in her ear.  “Remember?  My parents were at a show here, Shannon was at a sleepover, and we were doing our best to watch that movie we can’t even remember.”

Whitney smiled.  “I remember.  I ended up on your lap within the first ten minutes.”

“That’s right,” Ryan chuckled.  “Couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

“If my memory serves me right, I’d say it was the other way around,” Whitney said.  “You were the one unzipping my shorts.”

“Those itty bitty jean shorts you used to wear?  Can you blame me?  Your ass looked great in those.  Come to think of it, they barely covered it.”

“That was the first time I let you fuck me without a condom, too,” Whitney mentioned.  “Remember?”

He did.  They’d been having sex and Ryan was using a condom religiously, and Whitney said the only way they could have sex without one was if they both got tested for STIs.  That’s what her parents taught her if she was going to become sexually active, and she was sticking to it.  Ryan didn’t put up a fuss about it at all.  He went to his doctor, got the required test, and showed Whitney.  Whitney did the same, even though Ryan knew she was fine since she had only ever had sex with him.  “Of course,” Ryan breathed out.  “How could I forget?”

Ryan continued to move in and out of her, his hand moving down her body and to her clit where he began to rub lazy circles, causing Whitney to squirm and let out some more sighs.  Though they were taking it nice and slow, Whitney could feel her orgasm building just as slowly, her body feeling hot after so much time of being engulfed in one another’s bodies.  She put her hand over Ryan’s, still rubbing circles on her clit.  “You take care of me in every way, Snook.  I hope you know that.”

She was met by silence from Ryan.  And in that silence, her mind began to wander.  Why wasn’t he answering?  Why hadn’t he said anything in return?  All he did was continue his movements to make her feel good, which was always nice, but…why didn’t he say anything?  Does he not believe it?  “I’m close, Ry.”

“Yeah?” he finally responded.

“Yeah.  I can’t wait to feel you come inside me.”

Eventually, when Ryan felt her entire body shiver, he knew her orgasm was running through her.  Only then did he allow himself to come too, letting all his pent-up energy release inside of her.  He made sure to continue rubbing her clit to make her orgasm last longer, until he felt her hand that was over his squeeze it to get him to stop.  “Goooddd, Snook,” she sighed out.  “That was so good.  So nice.”

“I know,” he nodded.  His cock slipped out of her but was immediately replaced with his hand, feeling her wetness on his fingers before Whitney switched positions so she was facing him instead of having her back towards him.  He brought his hand up and sucked on his fingers, tasting her like he wanted.  She kissed him immediately after.  “You’re so sweet,” his voice was barely above a whisper, considering they were so close physically.

“Will you kiss me, Snook?”

Their lips met and they continued kissing for so, so long, completely lost in each other as the hum of the TV played in the background, Benson and Stabler starting to solve yet another case.

***

Whitney looked at herself in the mirror of her ensuite bathroom, wearing another one of Ryan’s Leafs shirts – this time in white – her jersey with his name on it draped over the door.  She was wearing a pair of black lace underwear that made her ass look extra cheeky.  Her nipples were already poking through the material of the shirt, but she knew she could do better.  She looked towards the shower and thought, well, that’ll be pretty hot.  She wet the t-shirt with the shower head, so much that it clung to her body, showing every curve.  She went back in front of the mirror and began to pose, taking pictures of herself for Ryan.

She was going to tease him within an inch of his life.  Why?  Because she wanted to.  Because she was still thinking about how he didn’t respond to her when they were having sex on the couch and she said, “You take care of me in every way, Snook.  I hope you know that.”  All she could think about for the past few days was how he didn’t respond.  Did he not think that he took care of her?  Did he not want to?  Did he not want to anymore?  When Ryan said he’d always take care of her, did that mean marriage?  Did that mean children?  Did that mean a life together?  He didn’t answer, so maybe it didn’t.  Maybe it did.  She didn’t know anymore.  It was all so confusing.  What she did know was this: she was going to take care of him and his ego tonight, that was for sure.  Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do, and maybe she should approach it in a different way; maybe it wasn’t mature and maybe it wouldn’t do anything in the grand scheme of things, but God damn it, this was how she was going to do it. 

Ryan had already left for the arena for the game against the Panthers, and she would be making her way down in about an hour.  She would be meeting Bee and Aryne before the game for some dinner and was mostly ready, except for the fact that she was taking pictures of herself as if she were competing in a wet t-shirt contest.  When she was done with the wet t-shirt contest, she tossed it in the shower and put on his jersey instead.  It was oversized, but she still knew she could make it look sexy.  She made sure her underwear was visible as she made her ass was front and centre since not much else could be seen.

When Whitney was actually ready – in her clothes she had planned to wear to the game, and not the clothes she had planned to tease Ryan in – she texted Bee that she was leaving her place and on her way to Chotto Matte, the Japanese-Peruvian restaurant that the boys had apparently been frequenting as of late.  When Bee realized that Whitney’s office was only a few blocks away from hers, she resolved that they get together more often, starting with dinner before the game with Aryne and Aberdeen.  Whitney and Bee were the same age, only three days apart – Whitney born August 28th and Bee born on August 31st – and so Bee made a conscious effort to be friends with her, and Whitney appreciated the effort because she liked Bee (and all the other women) since the day she met them.

Before she lost the WiFi service at the station, Whitney took out her phone from her purse and opened the conversation she was keeping with Ryan.

Just on my way to dinner with Bee, Aryne, and Aberdeen.  Can I show you my outfit?  I don’t know if it’s too fancy.  Have you been to Chotto Matte before?

He responded right away, letting her know that he wasn’t doing anything important.  At least not yet. 

Of course.  And no, I haven’t been.

The subway rolled into the station.  Whitney chose the first of the photos she favourited from the array she took, the least risqué of the night.  A photo of her just posing in his t-shirt, her nipples poking through the fabric, a hint of the black lace of her panties showing.  She got on the subway and took a seat, and as the subway began moving towards Rosedale station, her phone buzzed. 

Looks like you’ll be cold.  I think it needs a jacket.

She chuckled.  So he was going to be a cheeky bastard.  Fine.

By the time she made her way to Bay and Front Street, Bee and Aryne were waiting in the vestibule of the restaurant.  Within five minutes Aberdeen arrived and they were seated at their table, ordering drinks and food – Whitney ordered the black cod aji miso on the behest of Aryne.  The girls chatted up Whitney like they were old friends, and not like they’d just met merely a month ago.  Whitney ignored the incoming texts from Ryan throughout dinner and had fun with her newfound friends.

Let me see your real outfit

What are you wearing?

Are you at the restaurant already?  Are the girls there?

Go to the bathroom and show me how sexy you look in your outfit

Whit come on

I’m desperate here

You can’t just send a pic like that and then go silent

He was right.  It was so incredibly rude of her to go silent after she sent him such a picture.  So, as the waiter took their dinner plates away, she quickly got on her phone and sent him a second picture.  It was a picture of her in the same outfit except this time, she had her hand down the front of the black lace panties.  She locked her screen quickly, not giving it a second thought.  Within seconds, a reply flashed on her screen.

What the fuck, sweetness

The girls paid the bill and made their way to the arena on foot, taking the elevator to the family lounge where a few of the other girls were already hanging out.  When she had a moment to herself, she took out her phone and sent another picture, unsolicited: one where she was looking over her shoulder, pulling the t-shirt forward so her ass was in full view of the mirror.

Whitney

After some small talk with a few of the other women present, another: one where her t-shirt was wet and clung to her body, especially her breasts.

WHITNEY

After the Canadian and American national anthems were played, another one: a close up of her biting her lip, her nipples poking through the wet fabric of the shirt.

There’s a lot of guys in here with me

You gotta stop

As the first period went on, another: the wet t-shirt with her hand down her panties again.

Whit I mean it

Right after the buzzer at the end of the period, another: one of her in his jersey, ass in full view.

Holy fuck

She giggled slightly.  At the end of intermission, when she knew all the men he was with would be back, another: her seated on the floor, her legs spread wide, his jersey barely covering up the visual. 

I should come down to the family lounge and fuck you senseless in the bathroom.

Patience is a virtue, Snook

Stop teasing sweetness

That’s going to get you in trouble

If I’m trouble, then maybe you should roll up your sleeves, bend me over you knee, and spank me

Ryan never responded.  Whitney didn’t push it.  She knew she had him exactly where she wanted him and left it at that.  She enjoyed the rest of the game, the rest of the banter and conversation with the girls.  She finished her glass of wine and cheered on during overtime, though the Leafs lost.

When Ryan emerged from the locker room, he barely made eye contact with Whitney.  He greeted all the other women very politely and made conversation with them as they asked him about his finger and what life was like in the press box.  He milked the conversations for as long as he could, until a couple more of the guys emerged, until he finally looked at Whitney.  “D’you want a ride home?”

“That’d be nice.  Thanks,” she smiled.

She and Ryan got into the elevator to take them down to the parking garage.  He hadn’t said a word to her.  She couldn’t help the smile that was making its way onto her face after each passing silent moment.  “How’d you like the game?” she asked.  Silence.  She bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing.  Ryan didn’t even look at her.  “You look great in that suit, by the way.  Very sexy,” she offered.

Only then did Ryan give her a look, and even then – the look sent a shiver down her spine.  She was wholly unprepared for it, and after the shiver came the heat.  She knew she was in for it.  She was anxious and excited all at once.  When they walked off the elevator and started towards his Range Rover, his strides were so long and determined that Whitney almost felt like skipping to stay on pace with him.

Once they got to his car, Whitney decided to strike again.  “Are you mad at me or something?”

They were lucky a lot of cars were parked, because Ryan pulled her in between them and pushed her up against his, pinning her between the car and his body.  “You think you can just send me pictures like that and not have me go crazy?” he muttered, his lips so close to hers she could feel his breath on her skin.

“No, I knew exactly what I was doing,” she said in a hushed tone. 

“You’re a little tease, sweetness.”

“Did you have to go beat one off in the bathroom because you got a little too excited?”

“Oh no no nooo,” he cooed before giving her a hard kiss that took her breath away.  “I’m saving everything for when we get home.”

Whitney smiled from ear to ear.  “Then what are we waiting for?”

“Oh good, their car is still here!” they both her Morgan’s voice yell through the parking garage.  Ryan and Whitney separated at lightning speed.  “You just couldn’t see them because you’re short, bumblebee.”

Whitney and Ryan both emerged from in between the cars casually.  Bee was still a bit far from them, but close enough to not have to yell.  “I just wanted to remind you to text me for dates next week when you’re available for lunch,” she said.

“Of course!” Whitney was chipper.  “I’ll look at my schedule tomorrow at work.” 

Bee nodded as she watched Ryan open the passenger side door for Whitney.  “Drive safe,” she waved.

“You too!” Whitney said before getting in.  Ryan waved to Bee and Morgan before walking around the car and getting into the driver’s seat.

***

“I was not supposed to see that.  I was not supposed to see that.  I was not supposed to see that,” Bee repeated to herself over and over as she sat in the passenger seat, eyes wide but staring at nothing, waiting for Morgan to get into the car.  “I was not supposed to see that.  I was not supposed to see that.  I was not supposed to—”

“What weren’t you supposed to see?” Morgan’s voice suddenly interrupted her.

It was as if he had just magically appeared in the driver’s seat.  Bee didn’t even hear him get in.  She was too preoccupied with the scene replaying over and over in her mind: seeing Ryan and Whitney kissing in between cars when they thought no-one was watching.  And it wasn’t just some innocent kiss, either.  There was meaning behind it.  History behind it.

“Nothing,” Bee shook her head.  “Drop it.”

“Bumblebee—”

“Nothing.”

***

Ryan and Whitney rushed inside, their bodies ready to go before they even touched either other.  Ryan pinned her against the wall and kissed her forcefully, greedily, because she let him and because he could and because he’d been waiting hours to show her what he really thought of those pictures.  His knee was between her legs.  “Y’looked so fuckin’ hot in those pictures, sweetness,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Which ones were your favourites?  Wet t-shirt or jersey?”

He huffed.  “How could I choose?” he asked, and he meant it.  He picked her up in one swift movement and carried her up the stairs to their bedroom, setting her back down on her feet.  He grabbed handfuls of her ass with his hands, causing her to make a little noise at how his fingers dug into her skin.

“You wanted to fuck me so bad after seeing them, didn’t you?” she asked.

Ryan didn’t answer.  Instead, he pinned her up against the wall again, except this time, he wasn’t kissing her.  He was looking directly into her eyes as his chest rose and fell with the intensity of his breaths.  “Don’t think I forgot about your teasing that easily,” he warned, his voice low.  He could see the fire in Whitney’s eyes at her tone.  He stopped pinning her against the wall, but she didn’t move.  “You’re in a lot of fucking trouble, sweetness.”

Whitney watched as Ryan backed up further, until he was sitting in his dress shirt and suit pants on the edge of the bed, legs spread so she could see his growing bulge.  “D’you want me to s—”

“You do what I tell you to do,” his said sternly as he unbuttoned the cuffs on his shirt.  “Understood?”

Whitney nodded excitedly, biting her bottom lip.  “Yes.”

“Are you wearing the panties in the pictures?”

“Yes.”

He paused for a moment, licking his lips.  “Show me.  Nice and slow.”

Whitney knew what that meant.  She giggled slightly before she began to untuck the rest of her shirt – whatever Ryan didn’t get to downstairs – from the jeans she was wearing.  She watched as Ryan began to cuff the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, and she swore she could have come right then and there.  She took off her top to reveal a lacy black bra, one that pushed her boobs up perfectly.  “You like what you see, Snook?”

“Take off your pants, sweetness.”

She unbuttoned them slowly, swaying her hips, before unzipping them.  Before she pulled them down, she took the few steps over to Ryan, just as he was finishing cuffing his other sleeve.  She turned around so her ass was facing him and arched her back so it was in his face, pulling down her jeans slowly to reveal the lacy underwear that drove him crazy.  She kicked her jeans off to the side and before she knew it, Ryan had pulled her on to his lap, wrapping a strong arm around her body so she couldn’t move.  “You think you’re cute sending me those pictures even after I told you there were other people around, huh,” he whispered into her ear, his free hand snaking down to her panties.

“I had a lot of favourites,” she couldn’t help but smile as she felt his hand cup her pussy.

“You’re so fucking bad, sweetness.”

She felt his hand push her panties aside, two fingers teasing her pussy already.  She writhed in his lap, closing her eyes.  “I meant what I said in the text, Snook,” she said.

Ryan paused, as did his fingers.  Using the name Snook said it all.  “Are you sure, Whit?”

She nodded her head.  “Yes.  Please.”

He kissed her shoulder tenderly.  Then he asked a question.  “Do bad girls get what they want?  Or are they going to have to beg?”

It was practically automatic, the way Whitney’s body heat up at what Ryan said.  She closed her eyes again.  “Please Ry, bend me over your knee.”

His arm’s grip on her loosened and he helped move her into the position she wanted to be in, over his lap with her ass exposed and ready.  His fingers went right back to her pussy, teasing her lips only momentarily before he shoved them in.  She let out a gasp at the intrusion, her body tensing in his lap.  “Ry—”

“You’re so fucking needy and desperate sweetness.”

“I am.”

“For what?  Tell me.”

She could feel his fingers curl inside of her, hitting a place that he didn’t normally hit and giving her a feeling she’d never felt before.  For a moment, she almost forgot what all this was for.  “I—I—”

“For what?”

“For you to spank me,” she finally let out.  “For you to make me feel good.”

“What about my fingers, huh?” he asked, curling them in her again, causing her to squirm in his lap and moan loudly.  “They aren’t good enough for you?”

“I want—I want more.”

“More what?”

Whitney was getting more turned on by the second.  She loved putting her pleasure completely in Ryan’s hands, because he was the only one who knew exactly what to do to her, who knew exactly what to say to get her riled up.  Besides, he put his pleasure completely in her hands, too.  “I want more—more—”

“More?  You think you’ve been a good girl who can get what she wants?”

“No,” she shook her head.  “I’ve been bad and I need to be spanked.”

Ryan looked at her ass in full view for him, his fingers leaving her pussy.  He hesitated for a moment, because he wanted to give her what she wanted, but he also didn’t want to hurt her.  They hadn’t done this before, in all the times they’d been together.  Toronto must have really been something special if this is what they were getting up to now that they lived together in the same city.  He brought the fingers that were in her pussy up to his mouth to taste her before he resolved to go for it.  He took one last glance at the excited anticipation on her face before bringing his hand up, then down.  Smack!

Whitney let out a yelp, writhing in his lap.  “Oh fuck,” she breathed out.

“Did that hurt?”

“No no no, it felt so good,” she assured him.  “Do it again, baby.  Please.”

Smack!

Another yelp, her knees coming together as she crossed her ankles.  He wasn’t spanking her particularly hard, but they’d never done this before.  “Fuck!” she screamed out in pleasure. 

“Feels good?”

“Feels so fucking good Ry, oh my God,” she couldn’t believe it.  “Keep going.”

Smack!

Ryan caught sight of her pussy again, wet and slick from before and from what he was doing.  He spanked her again and could practically see it throb in pleasure.  He brought his hand back to her pussy, sticking his fingers in with ease since she was so wet, and she cried out at the sensation.  This time, though, he quickened his pace and curled his fingers more often.  Whitney had stopped being quiet a long time ago, but as he did so, she really wasn’t quiet.  It was only after he’d had his fingers back in her for a while that he even realized she was trying to say something.

“B…b…”

“What is it, sweetness?  You need a break?”

“Both.”

He was confused for only a second before understanding what she meant.  “Look at me,” he grabbed her jaw with his free hand, which wouldn’t be so free after this if she meant what he thought she meant.  He forced her to look at him.  Her cheeks were so flushed red.  “You want both?” he asked.

She nodded.  “I want both, Ry.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he released her jaw.  “You gotta tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“It won’t be.  I want it so bad Ry.  I’m gonna come so hard.  I want—I want it so bad.”

Ryan could never say no to her.  The only mode he knew was to indulge Whitney, and that was exactly what he was going to do.  He took a lick of his fingers before sticking them back in her pussy, using his other hand to give her another smack that made her cry out in pleasure.  Her body couldn’t help the movements it was making from the pleasure he was giving her, and Whitney couldn’t control them, either.  Every spank and every curl of his fingers brought her closer to a place where she and Ryan had never been before – an entirely new plane of pleasure they were capable of giving only each other.  “Mmmmm, ohmygod, Ry,” Whitney breathed out before cursing for the umpteenth time.  A new curl of his fingers hit the same spot from earlier, and she was desperate to feel it again.  “Right there, Ry.  Just like that.”

Another curl right on the spot.  Another cry.  Another smack.  Another curl.  Whitney felt like she was losing her breath, repeating his name over and over with every curl and ever smack.  She gripped the comforter for dear life, right before Ryan smacked her and curled his fingers at the same time, sending her entire body through an earth-shattering orgasm.  She’d never felt anything like it before, and she was as loud as can be.  She heard Ryan swear before the rhythm of his fingers changed slightly, slowing down before adopting a new rhythm.  The orgasm lasted longer than so many others, and when most of it finally passed, her hips lowered back down to his lap.

“Sweetness—”

It felt weird.  She couldn’t make it out at first – it was supposed to be Ryan’s dress pants, of course – but they felt different.  Had she really sweat that much?  Had he?  The feeling was different than what she was used to.  “Ry—”

“Holy fucking shit, Whit,” Ryan breathed out.

“Your pants—why do they feel wet?”

“Whit, I think you squirted.”

Whitney’s jaw dropped as she screamed in shock.  Ryan began to giggle, almost nervously and definitely uncontrollably, not believing what had just happened.  He could see Whitney’s eyes, nervous and uncontrollably delirious as his, smiling on their own above her hands that had cupped her dropped jaw and mouth.  “Are you serious Ry?”

He giggled some more.  “Oh my God-d-d-d,” he shook his head.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Whitney shook her head.  She wiggled off his lap and onto the bed as they continued giggling in disbelief.  She looked onto his lap to see the stain on his pants.  “Oh my God.  I didn’t even know I could do that.”

“I wasn’t expec—that was so fucking hot, sweetness.”

Whitney lay down on her side on the bed, shaking her head and covering her face with her hands.  “I’m so embarrassed.”

“What?!  Why?” Ryan demanded, moving so he could hover over her.  He tried to get her hands out of her face, but she kept shaking her head.  “Whit, there’s no way you should be embarrassed.  That was so fucking hot.  Are you kidding me?  I’m gonna be fucking dreaming of that for the rest of my damn life.”

Her chest was still heaving up and down as Ryan finally got her hands out of her face.   “You see what you do to me?” she asked.  “Only you can do that to my body, Ry.  Nobody else.  And you know what’s even better?”

So she wasn’t done.  Ryan bit his bottom lip.  “What’s that?”

“Only you get to do that to my body,” she said.  “You know why?”

“Because you’re all mine,” he huffed, his voice possessive as he stood up at the foot of the bed, facing Whitney as she lay there.  The visual of him towering over her, still with his dress shirt sleeves rolled up and suit pants on almost made Whitney come again.  “All fuckin’ mine.”

“That’s riiiiight,” she cooed.

“You ready to do what I tell you?” he asked, playing with his sleeves near his elbows.

“Yes Ry.”

“Spread your legs for me,” he said.  Whitney did as she was told.  Ryan licked his lips as he untucked his shirt.  “Look at that pretty pussy.  Fuck.  You’re so beautiful, sweetness.  So perfect.”

“You’re not so bad either,” she smiled.

“Touch yourself for me,” he ordered, beginning to unbutton his shirt.  Slow enough to tease her, but fast enough because he couldn’t wait, his hard cock straining his pants.

He watched as Whitney did as she was told, one hand going to her pussy while the other cupped her breast, pinching her nipple.  “I don’t want your hands anymore, Ry.  I want you inside me.  I want you to fill me with your cum.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he undid his belt.  Whitney almost mewled at the sight of him doing it topless.  “I’ll give you want you want.  What you need.”

“I need it so bad, Ry.  So so so bad.”

Ryan eventually got into bed and grabbed Whitney’s legs, pushing them straight up and grabbing her ankles to rest them on his shoulders.  “I fuckin’ love you Whit.”

“I love you too, Snook.  Ever since we were kids.”

“Ever since we were kids,” he repeated, nodding and kissing her inner ankle.  “You ready to take my cock?”

“Yes, God yes.”

Ryan used his hand to position himself and he slid into her so easily, her pussy still wet from their previous activities.  Like always, she felt like heaven, her pussy hot and completely taking his cock.  “S’at feel good?”

Whitney nodded her head.  “Fuck me, baby.  Take care of me.”

Ryan grabbed her ankles, developing a strong rhythm and thrusting deep inside her as he made her cry out in pleasure.  His own grunts fuelled Whitney too, who couldn’t help but reach out to Ryan’s body, just so she could feel it.  He squeezed her ankles, ensuring they were secure on his shoulders.  “You keep them there.  Got it?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward, his body and her legs getting hooked against her body.  “Oh fuck,” Whitney breathed out.  “Oh God Ry, it’s so fucking deep like this.”

“Gimme your hands.”

Even before she could free them, he grabbed them and pinned them above her head, holding them down with pressure so she couldn’t move them.  His thrusts became even harder, his movements rough but passionate.  She wanted a good fucking and she was going to get it – Ryan always made sure of that.  Whatever her need was, he could fulfil it.  Only him.  “Jeeeeesus Ry, fu—fuck me good, baby.  I need it so bad.”

Ryan didn’t know how he managed to last as long as he did.  Between the little strip show and the fingering and the spanking and the squirting, to now as his cock was buried deep in her pussy as they looked into each other’s eyes and whispered dirty talk to each other, his body was sweaty and practically as wet as his dress pants by the time he felt his orgasm build inside of him.  Whitney hadn’t been silent since he entered her, her voice becoming strained for how long he’d been fucking her and how long she’d been moaning and mewling and crying out and telling Ryan how good he was fucking her and how much she liked it. 

“Baby—baby I’m so close,” Whitney whispered.  “I want it harder.  Go deeper.”  Ryan pushed the final bit towards her body, hooking their bodies even closer together.  She closed her eyes to enjoy the pleasure.  “That’s it, Ry, that’s it.”

“Look at me,” he demanded, and she opened her eyes on the command.  “You love it when I fuck you like this?”

Whitney nodded.  “Always.”

“Tell me how much you love me fucking you.”

“Ever since the first time,” she assured him.  “The first time you touched me, Ry – I knew nobody else could make me feel like you do.  You were made to take care of me.”

“That’s fuckin’ right,” his voice was gravelly.

“Cum inside me, Ry.  Fill me up.  Fill me up,” Whitney begged.  “I know you want to.  And I want it so bad.”

“You want it bad, huh?”

“I need it, Ry.”

Within seconds, Whitney could feel his hot cum explode inside her, filling her up just how she wanted, another intense orgasm flowing through her entire body, from the hairs on her head down to her toes.  Her entire body shook and flushed red.  Ryan was moaning out loudly as he spilled every single drop he had into her, eventually stopping his movements in and out of her.  He loosened his push on her body so she could unhook her legs, and positioned her ankles back on his shoulders.  “Atta girl,” he gave a light smack to where her thighs met her ass.

Whitney couldn’t help but smirk and giggle.  Ryan let go of her ankles before collapsing on to her body and moving so they were laying on their sides, entangled with another.  Whitney was still catching her breath when Ryan slipped out of her.  “That was so good, Snook,” she whispered.

“God Whit, I love you so fucking much,” he kissed her.

“I love you too, Snook.  I always have.”

They didn’t say much else besides other sweet murmurs to each other, and as Ryan ran his hands through Whitney’s hair, she lulled into a deep sleep, thinking about how good Ryan was to her.  As Ryan drifted off to sleep, he kept thinking about how there was no place he’d rather be.

***

Hockey Night in Canada was a tradition in many households, and growing up, Whitney’s was one of them.  She remembered it being on virtually every Saturday night, Owen and Gareth glued to the TV to watch the Leafs and whoever they were facing.  Oftentimes the O’Reillys and Napiers would get together at each other’s houses on Saturday night, order some pizza, and make some popcorn for all the kids while they watched.  Whitney remembers always sitting in between Ryan and Gareth, and eventually Shannon, with the O’Reilly foster kids all around them starting Go Leafs Go chants.

Tonight, she was in attendance for a Hockey Night in Canada for Ryan, who was playing on the Toronto Maple Leafs.  She couldn’t believe it.

Whitney wore Ryan’s jersey and stood beside Bee, who held Axton up against the glass beside Jace, being held by Aryne on her hip.  John came around to fist bump, the biggest smile on his face as he saw his boys.  Jake McCabe came around too, waving at his kids who were excited to see their dad on the ice.  Jeska Schenn even got a picture of her boys posing with Luke, who gave them a puck from the ice.  Whitney could only hope that this would be her someday soon, bringing hers and Ryan’s children down to the glass to see their dad.

As this was the Leafs’ last home game, there was extra energy in the building.  When the women got back to their section and settled into their seats, they could feel it.  Mitch opened the scoring, and John scored about five minutes later, with a secondary assist from Ryan.  Aryne and Whitney hugged, jumping in unison.  In the second period, when William Nylander scored with another assist from Ryan, Whitney screamed even louder, Aberdeen screaming with her as they hugged too.  In the third period, on John’s second goal, Ryan got his third assist, and Whitney was elated.  The boys played so well, earning a 7-1 win against the Montreal Canadiens in their last home game of the season.  With the team saluting the raucous crowd, the girls clapped and cheered.

“Come to SoHo House with us,” Aberdeen whispered to Whitney as the girls began filing out of the family lounge.

“SoHo House?  Isn’t that members only?”

“Between myself and Bee, we can all get in as guests,” Aberdeen winked.  “And we need to celebrate, don’t we?”

Whitney smiled.  “Of course we do.”

Before Whitney, Aberdeen, and the rest of the girls were able to travel towards the locker room, they were stopped by a familiar voice – at least to Whitney.  “Whitney?  Is that you?”

Whitney turned her head to see a familiar face – Rachael, the girlfriend of Joel Edmundson, who played with Ryan on the Blues when they won the Stanley Cup.  She and Rachael weren’t exactly friends, but they tried to be friendly, though Rachael always had an iciness to her that Whitney couldn’t crack.  She didn’t know if it was just her personality or if Rachael didn’t like her.  In any case, Whitney completely forgot Joel was on the Montreal Canadiens, so it was very unexpected to see her at Scotiabank Arena.  Considering her personality, Whitney was slightly shocked Rachael was even getting her attention to say hi.  “Oh, Rachael!  Hey!” she greeted, smiling.  “You go ahead, I’ll catch up with you,” she said quickly to Aberdeen before re-routing herself towards Rachael.  “It’s nice to see you, Rachael.”

“Nice to see you too,” she said, though she didn’t outstretch her arms for a hug.

“It’s good that you were able to make the game here.  Your sister is studying here, right?” Whitney asked.

“Can’t believe you remember that,” Rachael commented.  “But yeah.  A couple of the girls and I came for the game, but I’m staying to spend some time with my sister.  What are you doing here?”

Whitney thought it was obvious.  She was wearing Ryan’s jersey, after all, which gave it away.  She pointed to the ‘90’ patch on her arm, giggling slightly.  “Ryan got traded here at the trade deadline, and I’m here, you know, supporting him.”

“No, Whitney…I mean, what are you doing here?” Rachael asked again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can’t believe you’re still waiting around for him,” Rachael said.

Whitney froze slightly, her eyebrows furrowing at the comment.  “What?”

Rachael rolled her eyes playfully.  “Listen, all I’m saying is…you’re hot, Whitney.  And if it were you, I’d be flirting with Auston Matthews or something, not waiting for Ryan like you always have been.”

“I’ve never been waiting for Ryan—”

“—Yes you have.  We’ve all seen it.  Every time you came to visit St. Louis, Joel and I would always see it, always talk about it.  And I just can’t believe it’s still going on,” Rachael lamented, not bothering to cover the contemptuous pity in her voice.  “I feel bad for you.  If I was waiting this long, I’d want someone to tell me how desperate I looked.  You should have taken that opportunity with Binner when you had the chance.”

Whitney could feel her cheeks flush red.  “How could you even say that?  Binner was so inappropriate with me.  There’s no way I would have even considered it – then or now.”

Rachael wasn’t letting up.  Clearly, she started this conversation with a purpose.  Were these things she wanted to tell Whitney back then and only had the opportunity to do so now, when they were alone, because Whitney trusted this conversation to be a fucking normal one?  “You have to move on and accept the fact that Ryan isn’t going to want you,” she said, her words as cold as ice.  “Move on, Whit.  He’s never going to be with you.”

Whitney narrowed her eyes at Rachael.  It took everything within her not to cry or scream in her face.  Whitney knew there were some…well, characters among the partners of NHL players, but Rachael was playing a dirty game that Whitney didn’t like, that Whitney never considered playing herself.  “Is this why you got my attention?  To tell me how desperate I am?  To make me feel awful?”

“I’m trying to save you a lot of heartache.  Trust me,” she said.  “Auston Matthews is right there.”

Whitney looked directly into her eyes.  “Go fuck yourself, Rachael.”

Whitney turned on the balls of her heels and walked away, disappearing quickly behind a door Rachael wasn’t allowed access through.  Instead of going directly to where Aberdeen and the rest of the women were, she escaped into the washroom, if only to make sure that the tears welling in her eyes and the redness in her cheeks wouldn’t be visible when she saw them all again.

Rachael’s words ruminated in Whitney’s mind and made her stomach bubble as looked at herself in the mirror.  “Stop waiting for Ryan.  I feel bad for you.  Move on.  He’s never going to be with you.”  She wasn’t right.  Whitney knew Ryan loved her, yet for some reason, he didn’t want to be with her.  Ryan adored her, but couldn’t be with her.  Ryan was her forever, and she was Ryan’s forever, but something was stopping him from putting a label on that forever.  She’d cheated on her boyfriends with him.  She broke guys’ hearts because of him, so desperate to be with her that they would have walked barefoot on lava.  But Ryan was her beginning, end, and everything in between, and she wasn’t interested in men willing to walk on lava when she had Ryan willing to do anything for her.

Except be with her.

Except call her his girlfriend.

Except make her his wife.

She burst out of the washroom, walking down the flight of stairs to see Aberdeen and an array of the other girls waiting for the boys.  “All good?” Aberdeen asked.

“Mhm,” she nodded quickly, burying her feelings within her.  “I’m ready to drink.”

***

Ryan noticed something off about Whitney the moment they got into the car.  Something was off.  She assured him that everything was fine, that she’d just heard a fan say something stupid about him in the stands and it had made her angry, but he knew she was lying.  Stuff like that never bothered Whitney before, so why was it bothering her now?  The drive to SoHo House wasn’t long, but he tried to get the truth out of her with no success.  He resolved to get to the bottom of it by the end of the night, even if he had to pry it out of her.

Whitney immediately approached the bar, ordering a margarita and finishing it within the first ten minutes.  SoHo House wasn’t that kind of scene, of course, but Whitney didn’t care – if she was going to have to drink her feelings away, she would.  Upon ordering her second, she felt Ryan behind her.  “Will you tell me what happened, please?”

“I said it’s nothing,” she said. 

“Then slow down,” he said, watching as the bartender handed her the second margarita.  “I wish you would just be honest with me.”

He’s never going to be with you.  “I am being honest,” she said.  “Please, Snook.  I just want to have a fun night out with the girls.  You’re gone all next week and I’m going to miss you.  I don’t want to start thinking about it now.”

Ryan digressed, because he always did.  He knew how much Whitney missed him when he was gone – he got to see it now when he came home to her.  When they were separated for months, it was even worse.  So he let her be with the girls and he hung out with the guys, and he noticed her get a third margarita, except this time it was after a while and a few glasses of water.  He kept his eye on her, her animated face lighting up at the stories she’d tell or listen to, her laugh loud and rambunctious.

“There’s nothing going on between you two, right?” William Nylander asked as he watched Aberdeen interact with Whitney. 

“Nah.  Why?”

William knew Ryan was lying.  William knew Ryan was lying because William had something to hide once too, and Ryan wasn’t nearly as good or meticulous as he was in hiding it.  Besides, Aberdeen had said she didn’t think Ryan and Whitney were just friends, and William trusted her judgement.  “You’ve been eyeing her all night.  Just want to make sure you look around the room a bit.”

Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle.  “I’m good, Will.  Seems like she and Aberdeen get along great though.”

“Aberdeen loves her.  She’s wondering why it’s taking you so long to make Whitney your girlfriend.”

***

It was about 1:30 in the morning when everybody decided to leave.  Ryan only had one drink at the beginning of the night and water the rest of the time through, so he was good to drive.  When they arrived home, they walked in without a word to each other.  Both ended up in the kitchen, with Whitney getting glasses and pouring them some ice-cold water to have. 

“I wish you would be honest with me about what was bothering you tonight,” he said, still wanting to address the situation.  He knew it probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do, but he needed the truth from Whitney.

He doesn’t want you.  I feel bad for you.  “I could say the same,” she whispered before taking another sip of water.

It may have been a whisper, but Ryan definitely heard.  “When have I not been honest with you?”

Move on, Whitney.  “You tell me.”

“Whitney,” his voice was serious.  “What the hell are you talking about?  I’ve always been honest with you.  Now will you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Whitney finished her glass of water, wishing it was some sort of hard liquor that would give her liquid confidence.  “Rachael was at the game tonight.”

“Who’s Rachael?”

“You remember Joel’s girlfriend?”

“…Okay,” Ryan said.  “Did you guys see each other?  Did she say something?”

Whitney paused.  It was now or never.  She knew that every thought she ever had about this would come rushing out of her after she started talking, so she tried to compose herself ahead of time.  She didn’t want things to get messy.  “She said she couldn’t believe I was still waiting for you like I’ve always been,” she began.  “She said she felt bad for me, that I should have taken the opportunity to be with Binner when I had the chance.  She told me to move on because you’re never going to be with me.”

Ryan was silent.  The words hung between them as silence filled the air.  ‘”So do you?” Whitney asked out of the blue.  “Do you want to be with me?”

“You—you don’t want to be with me, Whit.”

Whitney couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  “Excuse me?  I cheated on my boyfriends with you, Snook.  And you think that?  You actually say that out loud?”

“Listen, Whit— I’d do anything for you.  You know that.”

“No you wouldn’t.  Stop lying to me,” her voice was getting angrier each passing second.  This was the moment.  This was it. 

“I’m not lying to you—”

“You won’t marry me.  You won’t even call me your girlfriend.  We’ve been doing this song and dance for ten years and you still won’t even call me your girlfriend.”

The words hung in the air again.  Ryan’s heart was almost beating out of his chest.  “You’re right, Whit.  I won’t marry you.”

Whitney could feel her cheeks flushing red.  She’d been rejected plenty of times before – but not by Ryan.  And, of course, never for something so big.  The way he said it made it sound so definitive.  “Why won’t you be with me, Snook?” her voice quivered.

“Sweetness…”

“What is it?  What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing!  Whit—Whit—my god—” Ryan’s voice was frantic.  “Why would you think you did anything wrong?”

“How could I not?” she demanded back.  “Is it because you don’t love me?”

“No!  I love you more than anyone else.  I’ve always loved you Whit.  You know that.  How—how could you say that?”

Whitney began shaking her head.  She didn’t understand why he was saying such things to her.  He wasn’t making any sense.  He loved her, but he couldn’t be with her.  She didn’t do anything wrong, but he didn’t want to be with her.  It was cutting deep; every word that came out of his mouth carving deeper and deeper into her.  She bolted from the kitchen and ran upstairs, Ryan following behind her calling her name.  “What’s wrong with me?  What’s wrong with me that you won’t be with me?” she demanded of him once they were in their bedroom.

“Nothing is wrong with you.  Not a thing.  You’re perfect.”

“Then why!!!” she began to cry.  “Then why, Snook?  We tell each other all the time how much we love each other.  We tell each other all the time that we’re the only ones for each other.  I mean it when I say it, Snook.  Do you?  I want to marry you.  I want to be your wife.  I want to have a family with you, Ry – only you.  I’m not having a family if it’s not with you.  Don’t you want that too?  With me?  Why don’t—why don’t you want that too?”

“I do.”

“You’re not making any sense!” she yelled, trying to wipe away her tears with the back of her hand.  “Why don’t you love me?”

“I love you more than anybody else Whit.  That’s—that’s why I can’t.”

“Why don’t you love me?” she asked again.  She wanted an honest answer out of him.

Ryan’s face was flushed now, too.  “I can’t marry you because of me, sweetness.  It has nothing to with you.  It never has and it never will.”

Whitney paused.  Was he seriously giving her the “it’s not you; it’s me” excuse during the most significant and momentous argument they’d ever had?  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’d ruin your life, Whit.”

Okay, now he truly wasn’t making any sense.  Nothing coming out of his mouth made sense.  “How could you possibly ruin my life when you are my life?” she asked.

Those words hit Ryan hard.  Hard.  Because he knew how true they were.  And for as long as their lives have been intertwined, she had been his life too.  “Whit…” his voice began trembling too now.  “Whit, you don’t understand.  I can’t—I can’t—”

“Ryan, you’re being—”

“—No, Whit, let me—”

“—You’re being irrational—”

“—No I’m not.  It’s not—I’ve thought about this.”

“No you haven’t.”

“Yes I have.  I can’t be with you.  I can’t marry you.”

“Yes you can.”

“No I can’t.  I—I—” he stuttered, not even bring able to bring himself to say the words out loud.  “I’ll hurt you.  Like I did before.”

There was silence between the two as the words hung in the air.  “What?” Whitney’s voice was much calmer than before.  “When did you ever hurt me?”

Ryan looked away.  He bit his lip, chest heaving up and down at how emotional he was getting.  He couldn’t even bear to think about it, let alone say it out loud.  The memories still paralyzed him.  They brought back so much hurt, so much pain.  “The accident, Whit,” he whispered.

“What accident?”

“Tim Horton’s.”

More silence.  The gears were trying to shift in Whitney’s mind, but they were stuck.  “You didn’t hurt me, Snook.”

Ryan finally looked at her again.  “How could you say that?  Of course I did,” he said through gritted teeth, the pain of remembering overcoming him.  “You called me that night to pick you up and I was supposed to keep you safe.  I gave you a concussion, Whitney.  I—you weren’t the same for months, and it was because of me.  I did that to you.”

Whitney began shaking her head, watching him as he sat down on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.  “Snook, no—”

“I don’t know how I even live with myself after hurting you.”

“Snook, no.  Listen to me—” she got down on her knees in front of him, trying to cradle his face in her hands, but he nodded them away.  He wasn’t deserving of it.  He believed he wasn’t deserving of such affection. He wasn’t worthy. 

“And I promised him,” Ryan whispered, tears falling down his face and evident even in his voice now.  “I promised Gareth I’d take care of you.  And I didn’t.  I did that to you.  I couldn’t—I didn’t—I—”

“—Snook—”

“—He was dead in the casket, Whit, and I p—I promised him—”

“—Snook please—”

“—I didn’t keep my promise, and what if—what if I hurt you again?  What if—”

“—You won’t—”

“—I love you more than anyone, Whit.  If I hurt you?  I can’t hurt you, and if we—there’s too much risk.  Because of me and how stupid I was.  I could hurt you again and—”

“—You won’t, you won’t, you won’t,” Whitney repeated desperately, hoping it would get through to him somehow.  “Snook, that’s in the past.  It’s okay.”

Ryan shook his head.  “It’s always with me that I did that to you.”

“C’mere,” she urged, and without another word she hugged tightly, his head in the crook of her neck as he cried.  She felt his tears on her skin there as she tried to calm him down by running her fingers through his hair or rubbing his back, but there was no use.  This was something that Ryan had been carrying deep, deep within him for years now, and she had no clue.  The revelation of it being the reason keeping them apart was enlightening, painful, and heartbreaking all at once.  “Let’s pretend it never happened, Ry.”

“I’ve tried.  I can’t.  Every time I try to erase the memory, I get lost in it.  All I can picture is you passed out beside me in the truck, or you in the hospital bed crying.  I hate myself for doing that to you.  I never got over it. I hate—I hate mys—”

“Shhhhh,” she cooed.  “Snook, there’s nobody else for me out there but you.”

“I know.  And I feel the same.  But I don’t deserve you after what I did.  I can’t take care of you.”

“Yes you do,” Whitney said.  “And yes you can.  You’re the only man in this world that can take care of me.”

“No.  No.  No,” he shook his head vigorously.  “I can’t take care of you if I hurt you.”

“Yes you can Snook, please,” she urged, tearing up again.  “Don’t do this to me.  Don’t make me live a life without you.  I can’t live a life without you, Snook.” 

They cried together.  It was the only thing they could do after the catharsis, after the truth had been revealed for both of them.  Ryan pulled her up and into his lap.  Whitney could feel Ryan gripping onto her, his cries still coming.  “I don’t want to live a life without you,” Ryan mumbled, “but I don’t know how I can live a life where I can take care of you how I want to…how I’m supposed to.  Up to my standards.  I promised Gareth.  I didn’t—I didn’t live up to it early on.  What if I never can?”

“I’m telling you that you can.  I’m telling you that you’re the only one,” Whitney said.  “You bought us this house, Snook.  This house is for us, right?”

“Yes.  For you, but for us.  I know it is.”

“Think about the memories we already have here.  And think about the memories we can make here,” she whispered, finally cradling his face in her hands as she stared directly into his eyes.  “The smell of your chicken soup.  The feel of your body against mine in our bed.  Think about it, Snook.  Think about our kids sliding across these hardwood floors.  Movie nights where we’re all cuddled on the sofa together under blankets.  Carting the kids around to hockey practice.  Bringing them up to Bluewater Beach to swim like we did when we were kids.  I want that with you, Snook.  D’you want that with me?”

His breath hitched in his throat at the thought of children – their children, with all their personality quirks and mops of hair and sandy toes from the beach.  “I want that more than anything.”

She made sure to kiss him quickly – a peck so small it almost didn’t register as a kiss.  “Then what’s stopping us?  Why can’t we do it?  Because you don’t feel like you can take care of me even though you have since I was seventeen?  You’ve taken care of me, Snook.  All this time.  You’ve taken care of my body.  You’re the only one that’s taken care of my body.   And more importantly, you’ve taken care of my mind, my soul.”

“I’ve taken care of you because I love you,” he whispered.

“Have I taken care of you?” Whitney asked.

Ryan nodded his head immediately.  “You always have.  Just by being you.  By being there for me.  By being my sweetness.”

“Then let’s do it.  You and me.  Because we love each other.  Because we’ve loved each other since we were kids.  Because we take care of each other.  Right?”

“Right.”

“If I take care of you, will you take care of me?”

Whitney waited.  She waited and she waited and she waited, looking into Ryan’s big blue eyes for a response.  The same blue eyes she fell in love with as a kid.  The same blue eyes that brought her so much comfort and love.  The same blue eyes she could find her own soul in.

Finally, he spoke.  “Yes.”

Whitney had waited a long time to hear those words.  She wanted to make sure she wasn’t hearing things.  She needed to confirm.  “Yes?”

He nodded.  “Yes.”

More confirmation was needed.  “We’ll get married, Snook?”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.  I’ve just been scared, sweetness.  We’ll get married,” he confirmed.  “I’ll give you everything.  I’ll take care of you.  I love, you Whit.”

She kissed him again, much more passionately this time.  “I love you, Snook,” she said against his lips.  “I can’t wait to be your wife.  We’re going to spend the rest of our lives taking care of each other, right?”

“Yes.  Yes,” he affirmed, kissing her again. 

Ryan held her tight onto his body as he moved back on to the bed.  They continued to kiss for a long time, long enough that Whitney’s lips got red and puffy, with Ryan whispering “I love you, I love you so much” over and over again like he was reciting a prayer.  To have Ryan be hers was all Whitney ever wanted, and she couldn’t believe they had finally gotten to this point.  After ten years and countless secrets, grief and elation and success, Ryan was able to overcome his fear.  Whitney was able to help him.  They would be able to live their lives now as they always wanted to; no longer in secret.  They could hold hands in front of their parents.  They could give each other quick kisses on the backyard deck.  They could wrap their arms around each other in front of friends.  Nobody would have to second-guess or question their love for one another.  They could just be how they were with each other in front of other people.  Whitney anticipated it to be the most liberating feeling in the world, to be able to proclaim that she loved Ryan O’Reilly, and Ryan O’Reilly loved her, and that they were going to build a life together.  A life they wanted.  A life they deserved together.

“Make love to me Snook,” she whispered in his hear as her hand played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Ryan took his time, kissing along her jawline before moving down to her neck and clavicle, covering every inch of her skin with his kisses.  He helped her get out of her shirt and bra before she helped tug his own shirt off.  Whitney quickly leaned back so Ryan could take her pants and underwear off – same with him – before she got back into his lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders so they were physically close.

“I love you, Snook.”

“I love you too, sweetness.”

“You need to know you’ve never hurt me before in my life,” she stressed.  “Not even the accident.  Never, okay Snook?”

Ryan nodded his head.  “Let me kiss you.”

Their lips crashed together again, their tongues stuck down each other’s throats.  Whitney made sure to run her fingers through his hair, because she knew he liked that.  Ryan made sure to drag his hands down to her hips, squeezing at the flesh there and making her grind into his lap before moving his hands onto her ass.  “You need to know something too,” he said, his voice low.

“What’s that?”

“It’s always been you, Whit.  Since we were kids.  I’ll take care of you until the day I die.”

Those were words Whitney had wanted to hear for a long time, considering he was saying them now in the context of her being his wife.  She felt so elated and so happy that it was almost as if the ten years of waiting was worth it.  “Make love to me, Snook.  Like you love to do.”

One of his hands snuck between their bodies so he could position his hard cock at her entrance.  He took the opportunity to tease her only for a few seconds before pushing it in.  Whitney grinded her hips in his lap, getting him all the way inside her.  She paused, her mouth open against Ryan’s.  She didn’t care how many times it happened; every time he was inside of her, Whitney swore she saw stars.  “You’re so big, Snook.  So perfect for me.”

“Love you so fucking much, Whit,” he whispered in her ear.  His hands moved back to her hips, helping guide them as she moved in his lap.

“God you feel so good,” she whispered, leaning back slightly and exposing more of her neck and decolletage to Ryan.  He took the opportunity to kiss her everywhere, leaving some love bits on the way as he licked and sucked at her skin.  Eventually, he made his way down to her breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, causing her to sigh in pleasure.  Her nails were digging into his back; she was holding on to him for dear life.  “Keep doing that, Snook.”

He kept up with his kissing and love bites between her breasts, eventually moving to the other and taking the other nipple in his mouth too.  Whitney continued her movements in his lap, and he could tell that she was trying to make this last.  Good.  If it were up to him, it would last all night.  He’d test the limits of what was physically possible.  “You’re so beautiful, Whit.  I could kiss every inch of you.”

“You’re lucky you have,” she couldn’t help but smile.  “And you’re going to get to the rest of your life.”

They looked deep into each other’s eyes then, the heat of their bodies radiating between them.  “I can’t wait for you to be the mother of my children.”

Whitney smiled widely this time, unable to contain it.  “I can’t wait, either.”

“Don’t think I didn’t ever want that with you.  I did.  I always did.  I was just scared—”

“—It’s okay, Snook,” she put her index finger on his lips.  “You don’t have to be scared of hurting me anymore.”

He kissed her, unable to say anything else.  Whitney began running her hands through his hair.  They kissed again for a while, until both could feel their orgasms building.  “I love you, Snook.  Will you come inside me?”

Ryan nodded quickly.  “Always,” he said.  “I’m the only one.”

“That’s right.  You’re the only one that gets to come inside me.”

After some more kissing, both Ryan and Whitney felt their orgasms rush through their bodies at the same time.  Whitney held him close, gripping on to Ryan for dear life, their heads on each other’s shoulders as they cried out in ecstasy.  They let it last as long as possible, riding it out for as much as they could before their breath started to come back to them and they sunk into each other’s arms. 

Whitney was the first to pull back slightly, only to have her lips meet with Ryan’s again in a series of small, slow, lazy pecks.  She could rest her lips on him all night if she could.  “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“Will you hold me in your arms as we sleep?”

Ryan couldn’t help but smile.  “You never have to ask me that.  I’ll always hold you.”

They shifted positions, Ryan pulling the covers off the bed and Whitney getting under them.  She snuggled into his body as he draped the covers over them, and he wrapped his arms around her when he was done, making sure she was comfortable.  “Hey Whit?”

“Yeah Snook?”

“I’m sorry you were waiting for me.”

Whitney couldn’t help but smile slightly to herself.  There was no reason for him to feel guilty.  It took a while, yes, but this was their story.  And it would always be their story now.  “Don’t apologize,” she said.  “I have you.  That’s all I need.”

#ryan o'reilly #ryan o'reilly imagine #ryan o'reilly fic #ryan o'reilly fan fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #toronto maple leafs fan fic #ryan o'reilly blurb #toronto maple leafs blurb #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fan fic #nhl blurb #hockey #hockey imagine #hockey fic #hockey fan fic #hockey blurb #lost in the memory series

[forabeatofadrum]

The Class Menagerie

Summary: Kurt is a pre-school teacher at a school that has a huge variety of animals to care for. Unfortunately, one day, Kurt finds out that ten of them have escaped their cages. Luckily, a new trainee teacher named Blaine, offers to help him out.

Notes: Hello, hello, welcome to The Class Menagerie, my fic for the Klaine Back-To-School challenge, hosted by @the-lima-bean. There are animals!

The title was given to me by an anon on Tumblr, so anon, if you're reading this, thank you!!!!

Also, also, don't try to wrap your head around why this random pre-school in New York has this variety of animals. It is my fic and I get to decide the reality of the situation!

I hope you enjoy.

AO3 | S&C

--

Kurt is about to lose his mind. He has no idea where it has gone wrong, but it has gone wrong.

"Fuck," he yells, because he's fucked. He is so totally fucked. It's his third year as a pre-school teacher and this has never happened before.

He needs to reel in the swearing before the kids arrive. He also needs to fix this mess before the kids arrive.

They will be devastated if they find out that ten of the classroom pets have gone missing.

"Fuck!" Kurt says again. How did this happen? These animals are all specially cared for. They live here in special cages. This classroom is reserved for them. Kids come here to see the animals, not the other way around.

Suddenly, Kurt hears a voice.

"Everything all right in here?" he hears, "I heard swearing."

Blaine Anderson is leaning in the doorframe and he has no right looking that good while doing so. Kurt knows of him. Blaine joined this pre-school’s staff as a trainee teacher a week ago. He mostly helps out in Mercedes’s class, so Kurt hasn’t gotten a chance to properly talk to him yet. Sure, they’ve exchanged some words, but Kurt would love to get to know him more properly.

Unfortunately for him, Blaine just happened to walk into an awkward situation.

Then he realises that the animals might be in the room.

“Close the door!” he frantically yells towards Blaine.

Blaine is shocked, but he manages to do so.

“What’s going on?” he asks, looking alarmed.

“We lost ten animals,” Kurt gestures around. Blaine takes in his surroundings and he sees the empty cages. His eyes widen when the realisation hits him.

“How did this happen?” Blaine asks frantically.

“I don’t know!” Kurt answers, sounding equally frantic, “I came in around eight, since my class will visit the fur babies first, and this is what I found. I don’t know how long they’ve been out. Or how they got out in the first place.”

Blaine checks his watch and Kurt sees the realisation sink in. They need to find these animals fast, otherwise they will have to deal with a lot of upset and potentially crying pre-schoolers.

“Check every corner, now!” Blaine yells.

It doesn’t have to be said twice.

Both Kurt and Blaine sprint towards the corners, but to no avail. Kurt’s about to tear his hair out, which is saying something cause usually nothing would allow Kurt to mess up his hair.

Then he hears it.

“Shhhh!” he shushes Blaine.

“What?”

“Shhhhhh!”

It is dead silent and that’s when Kurt can hear it more clearly. It’s a squeaking noise. It’s the sound of a little hamster. Kurt and Blaine follow the sound.

“Let me check,” Blaine says and the next thing Kurt knows, Blaine’s on the floor. He’s trying to see if he can spot the hamster underneath the furniture.

Kurt looks at Blaine and he reminds himself that he’s at work.

“I think there is an animal there!”

“Toffee?”

“Toffee?” Blaine asks.

“The hamster is named Toffee,” Kurt says.

Blaine slowly gets up and Kurt holds out his hand to help him. Blaine takes it and once Blaine’s up, he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t seem to notice. Should Kurt comment on it?

“Who are we missing, apart from Toffee?” Blaine asks and Kurt reminds himself to stay focused.

“Uh…”

“Kurt?”

“Right!” Kurt snaps out of it and he gets out of Blaine’s grip. Kurt sees that Blaine quickly looks down to his hand, but he also doesn’t comment on it and Kurt turns away to check the cages.

Kurt quickly makes a list of all the missing animals and his frustration only grows. He knows that ten are missing, but now that he knows who are missing, it becomes more real. They’ve already found Toffee, but they need to find two baby rabbits, a baby ferret, a baby meerkat, one guinea pig, a chinchilla, a rat, a hedgehog and a mouse. Usually, Kurt is proud of this school’s boastful collection, but now he wishes that they weren’t known for this.

“Kurt, help!” he hears and when Kurt turns around, he sees that Blaine is stuck.

“What happened?”

“I tried to reach Toffee, to no avail! I tried to reach through this gap between the cabinet and the wall,” Blaine says, “Could you help me move this cabinet?”

“Oh Blaine,” Kurt laughs, “This cabinet has wheels!”

“… Oh.”

Kurt takes the brake of the wheels and Blaine uses his free hand to push the cabinet aside and Kurt has to stop himself from laughing. Blaine looks so bewildered.

“Well, Toffee is accounted for,” Kurt says as he reaches down to pick up Toffee, “Although I am afraid it’s not going to be as easy to find the others.”

Blaine checks his watch.

“What are we going to do?”

“Let me send a message to Rachel,” Kurt says, “She can welcome my class.”

Rachel isn’t a full-time teacher. She sometimes gives music classes to the kids, but Kurt happens to know that she doesn’t have a class this morning and she’s at school. She likes to get here early to prepare.

Kurt quickly sends her a message, explaining the situation.

Meanwhile, Blaine is listening attentively for more sounds. He’s following something.

“Kurt, I think I found something,” he whispers.

Kurt presses send and he hopes Rachel sees it in time, otherwise they’ll be in big trouble.

Blaine’s crouched down in front of a bookcase. The bookcase is filled with informative children’s books about all the animals in the classroom, including the one who is currently sleeping behind the bookcase.

It’s Waffle, the chinchilla.

“Waffle!” Kurt whispers excitedly.

“Did you all name them after food?”

“I didn’t name them,” Kurt answers, “Some kids named them and they aren’t all named after food. Most are, though.”

“What name would you give to your pet?”

Kurt stops and think. He doesn’t really know. He’s never thought about it, since his landlord doesn’t allow pets and even if they did, Kurt wouldn’t have the space.

“I don’t know. You?” he casts the question back.

“Mimi,” Blaine answers.

“Mimi,” Kurt repeats, “I like the sound of that.”

“Thanks, I’ll tell her.”

“You have a pet?”

Blaine nods happily.

“Yes, wanna see a photo of her?”

Kurt would love to, but just at that moment, Waffle chooses to wake up. Kurt and Blaine’s heads jerk back towards the bookcase. They can hear Waffle making noises. It seems like the chinchilla hasn’t moved yet, so now is their chance.

The bookcase doesn’t have wheels, though, so Kurt carefully stars taking books off the lowest shelf. He hopes that Waffle won’t be scared. Blaine is in position to grab Waffle.

It works and Blaine carefully puts Waffle back in the cage. Two down, eight to go.

“This is a nightmare,” Kurt groans out.

“At least we’re together,” Blaine laughs.

“Huh?”

“I mean, the two of us. Here. Two is better than one. We’re faster!” Blaine says quickly.

“Exactly,” Kurt says.

“So, uh, do you want to see a photo of Mimi?”

“Absolutely.”

Blaine whips out his phone and his background is a photo of Mimi wearing a rainbow bandana, so he doesn’t have to sift through photos. Mimi is a cute light brown cavalier king Charles spaniel. Kurt focuses on the bandana.

“Oh, yeah, she wore this for Pride.”

Kurt already heard through others that Blaine is gay, but this confirms it for him.

“Very stylish,” Kurt says back.

“How about this? Let’s have some fun!”

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“For every animal we find, I show you a Mimi photo.”

Kurt lets out a laugh. Blaine is adorable.

“Deal.”

The two of them continue to search the classroom and Kurt thinks he can hear some stomping coming from one corner. He moves the furniture so that he can get a better view.

“Oh!”

“What?” Blaine asks from the other side.

“You should see this for yourself.”

Blaine moves to stand next to Kurt and his eyes also widen. Then he looks amused.

“This is why they call it breeding like rabbits,” he says.

“Do we… interrupt them?” Kurt asks.

“Maybe we’ll come back to these later. At least we know where they are now.”

Kurt moves the furniture back, now in a way to prevent them from easily running away from that spot, and Kurt and Blaine continue their search.

They find Noodle the hedgehog in the open cupboard with all the food. Kurt carefully wraps him in a towel so that Kurt won’t get hurt. Blaine cleans up the bag of food that Noodle demolished.

Afterwards, Blaine shows Kurt a photo of Mimi wearing a raincoat.

Blaine then has the idea to use the leftover food to potentially lure an animal out of hiding. He places it on the ground and he and Kurt move behind the cages. Lo and behold, Crumpet the guinea pig crawls out of a box with toys.

Even though Blaine is the one who came up the plan, Kurt still feels like he’s being rewarded when Blaine shows him a photo of Mimi sleeping with her head tucked between her paws.

“It’s so dark in here,” Kurt says, “Maybe some additional light will help the search.”

Kurt then draws the curtains open and Nathaniel the rat jumps on him from the windowsill. Kurt shrieks in shock and Nathaniel jumps off him and runs away.

“Bad girl!”

Blaine runs after her and dives to the floor in order to prevent her from hiding in another tight spot.

“I got her!” Blaine yells, “I got- Ouch! She bit me!”

Luckily, instead of hiding in that tight spot, Nathaniel zooms across the classroom. Kurt tries to catch her. He feels a bit bad for her, because she is clearly stressed, so Kurt makes a mental note to tell the kids to give her an extra treat later.

“Nathaniel, please just work with us!”

“She’s named Nathaniel?”

“Yes! Again, kids named these animals!”

Eventually, both Kurt and Blaine push her towards a corner. Luckily, she doesn’t jump on Kurt again, or Blaine, so they manage to carefully pick her up. Blaine places her back into her cage and Kurt’s left behind to clean up the poops, because Nathaniel pooped in fear.

By the time everything is clean, the bunnies have also finished their business, so Kurt and Blaine put them back in their cages as well. Luckily, they were too tired to run away. Besides, Kurt suspects that they don’t mind being in the cage as long as they’re together.

“That calls for 3 Mimi photos!” Blaine says.

“We fucking need it,” Kurt says back.

“Language, Mr. Hummel!” Blaine laughs.

“The kids aren’t here yet. Let me have this.”

“You can have this instead,” Blaine holds out his phone to show him a photo of Mimi running in the grass. Then he swipes to one of Mimi chewing a toy, and then to one of Mimi with a squirrel.

“That’s Watson,” Blaine explains, “He lives in Central Park and he’s Mimi’s best friend.”

Kurt coos. Of course Mimi has made a friend in the park.

“Alright, three left,” Kurt says and he quickly checks his phone. Rachel has sent him a thumbs up emoji and Kurt lets out a sigh of relief. He’ll deal with the repercussions of all of this later, but first he and Blaine have three more animals left to catch.

“Where the hell could they be?” Blaine ponders out loud.

He has a point. Kurt feels like he’s scoured every nook and cranny of this classroom, but he is still missing something. The windows have been closed this entire time, and apart from the moment Blaine came in, the same goes for the door. They must be somewhere.

There are some more cabinets with closed doors. They never checked that, because how the hell would these animals get in there?

Still, it doesn’t hurt to look.

Kurt and Blaine go through all the cabinets and indeed, they find Cookie the ferret sleeping between some blankets.

“How did this even happen?” Kurt asks.

“I have no clue,” Blaine says, as he carefully lifts Cookie out of the cabinet.

“These blankets do seem more comfortable than the cages,” Kurt says.

Blaine puts Cookie safely away and then shows a video of Mimi. She’s singing along with Blaine, who is playing some simple piano melodies and Kurt’s heart swells at the sight of Blaine. And Mimi. Mimi, too, of course.

Luckily, watching the video has an added benefit. Bear the mouse reacts to the sound by peeping. Kurt and Blaine follow the sound and find Bear in another closed cabinet. It’s an old one, so Kurt can see that Bear ate part of the door to make an entrance.

“Bear the mouse?” Blaine asks.

“Again, kids!” Kurt says as he puts Bear in the cage, “Someone thought it was funny to name a small animal after a big one.”

“I wouldn’t call Mimi Hedgehog or something.”

“You’re no fun,” Kurt teases.

Mimi is indeed a small dog. The photo of her standing next to a big tree illustrates that.

“One more!” Blaine says cheerfully.

Kurt smiles. His eyes fall on the clock. School has started, but it’s alright. Rachel will keep his kids entertained and all things considered, they’re doing this fairly quickly.

Right?

Twenty minutes later, Kurt realises he was mistaken.

They cannot find Sebastian the meerkat.

Meanwhile, Rachel is trying to message him, asking for how long it’s going to take. She obviously has to be discreet, since she cannot be on her phone while teaching the kids, but it makes it all a bit more complicated, since they can’t just call.

Blaine’s bowtie is untied and he looks stressed. Kurt’s certain he also looks messy. They’ve uprooted so many pieces of furniture in these past twenty minutes and that is exhausting.

“Can I go on the record and say that I fucking hate Sebastian,” Blaine says.

“Who’s swearing now?” Kurt says with mock horror.

“You were right. It is necessary.”

“Where could he be, though?” Kurt sighs.

“Maybe we need to change our approach,” Blaine says.

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“What do you suggest?”

“Maybe we need to startle him, so that he comes out of hiding. We can make a loud noise.”

“Hm. That’s an idea.”

“There’s one downside, though.”

“Hm?”

“We will disturb the other animals, and I don’t know if I can handle that. Emotionally.”

Kurt looks around and he also doesn’t like the idea. Cookie is still sleeping peacefully and Nathaniel has finally calmed down.

“I don’t think I can handle it either, but what choice do we have?”

“Yeah…” Blaine nods solemnly.

“What noise do we make, though?” Kurt asks, “We also can’t make too much of a mess, because it might scare the kids.

“I have a whistle.”

“Why do you… carry a whistle?” Kurt asks.

“It’s to remember my marching band days,” Blaine says and he reaches for something in his pockets. It’s his key ring and there is indeed a small silver whistle attached to it.

“I didn’t know you marched!” Kurt exclaims.

“I mean, we haven’t really gotten the time to get to know each other yet,” Blaine points out.

It’s true. There’s a lot that’s left to discover and Kurt likes the idea of that. He wonders how Blaine will react when he finds out that Kurt was on the football team for a short while and that he was a cheerleader for a little bit longer.

“Maybe after all of this, we can hang out more,” Kurt suggests.

“You can come and meet my dog!” Blaine immediately says.

“I’d love to!” Kurt beams.

“How about this? If we find this meerkat, you can meet Mimi in the flesh!”

“How will that work? Is she here at the school?”

Blaine turns a bit red.

“Erm. Uh. I meant you could come over to my place after work.”

“Oh.”

“I- You don’t have to, if you have plans! Or whatever reason! You don’t have to justify a no if it’s a no-”

“Blaine, it isn’t a no!” Kurt quickly says.

“Ah,” Blaine looks relieved, “Good.”

“We better find this meerkat, then, if me meeting Mimi is the pay-off.”

Blaine nods and he blows his whistle. As expected, a lot of the animals react and Kurt feels like a terrible person, but it has the desired effect. Sebastian the meerkat shows up from God knows where and starts running around the classroom, jumping on furniture, throwing off things, and creating chaos in general. It doesn’t help that Kurt and Blaine are frantically chasing him.

“Fuck!” Blaine yells as he trips over something and goes down.

Since Kurt was running right behind him, he, in turn, trips over Blaine and lands right on him.

“Ouch!” Kurt says.

“At least you landed on me,” Blaine groans.

“Are you hurt?” Kurt asks.

“Nothing is wrong. I managed to catch myself. I just lost some of my dignity.”

Kurt rolls off Blaine. Blaine also rolls on his back, and to Kurt’s surprise, Blaine starts laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Kurt asks, aghast.

“Just… You know…” Blaine laughs some more.

“What?”

“This is the weirdest things that has happened here at work,” Blaine says through his laughter, “And we work at a pre-school, Kurt. Kids do crazy shit.”

“Like naming a mouse Bear,” Kurt says and he also starts to feel a bit giddy. This is ridiculous.

“Exactly!”

The two of them lie on the ground, just laughing. They can’t wait to tell the others in the staff room. Kurt turns his head to Blaine and he’s surprised to see Blaine staring back. Kurt wants to say something else, but he doesn’t know what. The laughter has been replaced by a comfortable silence.

Kurt wants to reach out. He’s no longer on top of Blaine, since that’s the appropriate response, but he realises he misses it. That’s weird.

But before Kurt can even make up his mind about it, he feels something on his legs.

He looks at his leg and he sees Sebastian the meerkat crawling around.

“Uh.”

“Stay still,” Blaine says and he slowly gets up.

Sebastian the meerkat walks up towards Kurt’s face. By now, Blaine’s crouching next to Kurt, waiting to grab this damned animal.

Unfortunately, the meerkat must have crazy reflexes, because the moment Blaine tries to reach, he jumps off Kurt and runs away. Blaine loses his balance and falls face down on Kurt.

“Fuck this meerkat!” Blaine yells against Kurt’s chest.

“This meerkat seems to have a secret agenda to have us fall on each other,” Kurt jokes, “Now you’ve landed on me.”

“There are worse things to land on, I guess,” Blaine says and he lies there.

“Uh. Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

“We should get up and find Sebastian.”

“Right!” Blaine says as he gets up. He holds out his hand to also help Kurt up.

Sebastian is once again nowhere to be seen, so Kurt and Blaine look around, but he’s gone. Or so it seems. Where the hell can a meerkat be?

Blaine takes out his whistle.

“I can do this again…” he trails off. He doesn’t want to and Kurt understands. It was a last resort and it scares the other animals.

Maybe they need to give up. Kurt can explain to the principal what happened and all ‘animal care’ lessons have to be put on hold.

Kurt sighs and he checks the other animals to see if they’re alright. He pets everyone, apart from Noodle, because the spikes would hurt him. He gives Nathaniel an extra treat. He chuckles when he sees that the rabbits are cosied up together. He says hi to Sebastian. He is happy to see that Cookie is still asleep. He-

Wait a second.

He backtracks.

He stops in front of Sebastian the meerkat’s cage.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kurt hears Blaine from behind. Kurt can understand the sentiment. Sebastian is in his cage. They couldn’t find him the second time around, since Sebastian straight up moved back on his own.

Kurt quickly closes the cage door.

“Well… At least all animals are accounted for.”

“Oh my God,” Blaine says.

“Does this still count for the Mimi photo requirement?” Kurt asks to lift the mood. It has its desired effect because Blaine loves the photos and the photo of him and Mimi on the beach does not disappoint.

And just like that, it’s over. Kurt quickly fixes his hair and Blaine also ties his bowtie. They have places to go. Kurt has a group of pre-schoolers to look after and Blaine also has to prepare some stuff for work. They’ve already lost valuable time, so they need to get going, but a part of Kurt doesn’t want to. As wacky as this was, it was also kind of fun.

Blaine coughs.

“Anyway. See you later? We can meet up in the staff room, or I can send you the address.”

“What?”

“For the Mimi meeting.”

“Oh, of course!”

Blaine opens the door. He waves and then walks out of the classroom. There’s nothing left for Kurt to do, so he leaves as well.

When he arrives at his own classroom, the relief on Rachel’s face is evident. They play it off in front of the kids and they don’t ask a lot of questions. It’s time to get to work.

--

Blaine’s apartment is very small, but Kurt likes it. The best part is that Mimi immediately runs towards them.

“Did you miss me?” Blaine coos as Mimi jumps against him and Kurt’s heart swells, “I missed you too!”

Kurt crouches down and Mimi tilts her head.

“This is Kurt, he’s a friend, and we had quite an adventure today,” Blaine tells her.

Kurt holds out his hand for Mimi to sniff it. He passes the test, because Mimi licks it.

“She likes you,” Blaine says.

“I like her too!” Kurt says and he’s beaming. Mimi is very playful and Kurt pets her. She revels in it. At one point, he scratches her head and her head tilts back and she squints her eyes. Kurt’s about to burst.

He looks up and he sees Blaine looking down with adoration written across his face. Kurt gets it. He’s only known Mimi for a few seconds and he’s already willing to go to war for her. Kurt’s certain he has the same smitten look on his face.

“You can carry her, if she wants you to,” Blaine says.

“How do I know?”

Blaine kneels down next to Kurt and Mimi.

“Just kneel in front of her and stretch your arms. If she’s willing, she’ll jump into your arms, so you must catch her.”

Kurt tries it and Mimi is eager to be loved, so she leaps into his arms.

“Look!” Kurt turns to Blaine, with Mimi pressed against his chest.

“I’ve never seen her warm up to someone this quickly,” Blaine sounds a bit amazed.

Blaine helps Kurt get up and Kurt carries Mimi to the living room. Blaine gives him a small tour of his place and he asks if Kurt wants coffee. Kurt can’t say no to that!

Kurt cuddles Mimi and Blaine talks from his kitchen. He tells Kurt how he adopted Mimi. A friend of his had a dog who unexpectedly got pregnant, so Blaine and his friends adopted all of the babies. They still have reunions with Mimi’s mom and siblings.

“I have pictures!”

“Please show them!”

Blaine returns with coffee and the two of them spend the remainder of their time together looking at pictures of adorable dogs. It starts with Mimi and Mimi’s family, but then Kurt learns that Blaine also volunteers at a shelter when he has the time and he has many pictures of animals there.

“That’s partially why I hoped to do my traineeship at our pre-school,” Blaine explains, “I like that this particular pre-school has the animals. I want to become a teacher because I love working with kids, so it’s a win-win.”

“Well, it’s important to learn kids from a young age how to care for other life.”

“Exactly!”

“My three-year-old niece once wanted to pet a friend’s rabbit, but she just started slamming that poor animal’s back. Luckily, my sister-in-law stopped her.”

“That sounds unfortunate.”

“How did you get into teaching?” Blaine asks.

Kurt lets out a sigh. It isn’t a big marvellous story. Teaching wasn’t his dream growing up, but that is fine. Sometimes you work hard on something, only to realise that it isn’t what you want after all. That’s what happened to Kurt. He was enrolled in a drama school, but he wasn’t feeling it. This only stressed him out, because he’d worked hard to be accepted into the school. He thought that acting on stage was his dream, so it really messed him up when he realised that it wasn’t true.

Still, he saw no way out. He was committed to finishing his degree. Then in his second year he had to do an internship and he did it at a school. He helped out in a drama department and it was as if the clouds in his head parted. He realised that he was still young and that he had his life ahead of him, so he made the big decision to quit drama school to learn to become a teacher.

During that time, he realised he preferred the pre-school age.

“And here I am,” Kurt wraps up his story.

“Here you are!” Blaine laughs and it’s a nice laugh.

“I’m glad I ended up at this school, even though our principal makes, uh, questionable decisions sometimes,” Kurt says, “But don’t tell principal Sylvester I said that!”

“My lips are sealed,” Blaine pretends to zip his mouth shut, but then he immediately says: “I am also glad I ended up there, even if I am just a trainee. It’s a great place, with amazing extracurriculars and other extra ‘classes’.”

Kurt hums in agreement.

“And, uh, I met you.”

Kurt looks up in surprise. Blaine is staring back, looking a bit nervous. Is he trying to flirt?

“I’m glad you joined our team too!” Kurt says, just to be safe, but then he adds: “I’m even glad that the two of us had our little adventure this morning.”

“Yes, although I will forever detest Sebastian.”

Kurt shrugs.

“I don’t. Because of him, we had more time together.”

Kurt really, really hopes he isn’t overstepping and that he understood Blaine correctly.

“Yeah, that is one way to look at it,” Blaine says back with a smile.

Kurt wants to say something more, but then his phone beeps. He knows what it is. He set an alarm for himself. He’s meeting up with some other people, but he so desperately wanted to meet Mimi and see Blaine, so he added this to his already busy day.

“Ah. I… have to go.”

Kurt puts his empty coffee cup down and he lets Mimi jump off his lap. He already misses her warmth.

“Okay.”

“But thanks for having me.”

“Always. Mimi loves you.”

“And I love her,” Kurt says and on a cue, Mimi barks.

Blaine walks Kurt to his front door and Kurt realises he really doesn’t want to leave, and that he wants to stay here with Blaine and Mimi, but he’s made these plans with the others weeks ago so he really cannot bail.

“Will I see you again?” Kurt asks as he puts on his coat.

Blaine has an amused look on his face.

“We will see each other tomorrow at work, remember?” he says.

Kurt lets out a small laugh. He knows that, but that’s not what he meant.

“Outside of work, dummy,” Kurt clarifies and Blaine turns red, either from embarrassment or something else.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“With Mimi?”

Kurt thinks about that. He loves Mimi and he’d love to see her again, but the idea of just going somewhere with Blaine sounds appealing as well. He tells Blaine that. Blaine turns even redder and Kurt’s pretty certain he must look the same.

“Are you, uh, asking me on a date?” Blaine asks.

“Yes,” Kurt says, “Interested?”

Blaine nods eagerly.

“Definitely. I’ve been meaning to get to you know me ever since I first saw you!”

“Ah well, as I said, maybe it’s a good thing that 10 animals escaped this morning,” Kurt says.

His phone beeps again. Shit, he really needs to go if he wants to catch his train.

“I’ll text you, okay?” Kurt asks.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

And with that last eloquent word, he leaves Blaine’s apartment.

--

They have their first date the weekend after. It’s nothing glamorous. They have coffee at a local place and then pick up Mimi to go for a walk.

It’s absolutely perfect.

Blaine’s also picked up a picnic blanket and the three of them bask in the sun in the park. There’s a fenced off area for dogs, so Mimi can roam free and Kurt and Blaine take a lot of photos, because they can.

But all good things come to an end.

Blaine’s rolling up the picnic blanket and Kurt’s holding Mimi and scratching her behind her ear.

“See you on Monday, huh?” Kurt says.

“Yup.”

Kurt holds out Mimi so Blaine can take her. It’s time to go.

And Blaine does want to take her, because Kurt’s pretty sure he wouldn’t get away with kidnapping Mimi. Kurt moves closer so that he can put Mimi in his arms.

Once Mimi’s settled, she nestles herself in Blaine’s embrace and Kurt’s heart melts. He wishes he could just kiss Blaine.

And then Kurt realises that maybe he can.

He can’t help it. Blaine’s so close and Kurt leans in.

Blaine realises what Kurt’s aiming for and he doesn’t seem opposed to it, which is a win.

Kurt presses a kiss on Blaine’s lips as a goodbye. Blaine kisses back. Mimi lets out a bark, which makes Blaine laugh. It’s a bit awkward, because there is still some distance between them, since they don’t want to squash Mimi.

So Blaine puts Mimi down, much to her annoyance, but Kurt sees that as an invite to pull Blaine closer and he kisses him again.

--

That Monday, Kurt and Blaine see each other at the pre-school again. On their way to the staff lounge, they pass the classroom with animals.

“We should thanks them,” Blaine says, which makes Kurt adore him even more.

He’s right. They should.

Kurt opens the door so that the two of them can take a peek inside. For a split second, Kurt’s worried that some of them have gotten out again, but once he looks inside, he sees that all the animals are peacefully in their cages.

“Thanks guys,” Kurt whispers.

“Yeah, thanks! Even you, Sebastian!”

Kurt closes the door and the two walk to the staff room, hand-in-hand.

--

End notes: I hope you enjoyed. And that you love Mimi as much as I do. You can check my meme tag for memes about her, because I am me. And a shout out to @cerriddwenluna for naming Bear the mouse (kinda, she suggested naming a small animal after a big one) and @raenestee for naming Noodle the hedgehog and Nathaniel the rat.

#klaineb2schallenge2023 #holy fuck I wrote #2023 #glee #klaine #one shot

[bytheangell]

Happiest Season

(Read on AO3)

“I cannot believe you’ve never seen a Hallmark Christmas movie,” Clary says from behind Isabelle, who is waiting dutifully on the sofa per Clary’s instruction. Meanwhile, Clary is bouncing around behind her with more energy and excitement than Izzy’s ever seen her have. This is particularly impressive because that means this Clary rivals post-coffee Clary.

“Just sit down and relax, Clary!” “I will relax once we have everything we need. The atmosphere needs to be perfect,” Clary insists.

The weather outside is doing half the work for her - it’s snowing outside, those giant, puffy flakes that melt the second they land, but look beautiful as they fall outside the window. Clary has four giant pillows and the fuzziest blankets on the sofa, and a moment later a steaming mug of hot cocoa is placed on the coaster next to Isabelle, topped with a small mountain of whipped cream and marshmallows.

“Okay. Now we’re ready to watch,” Clary declares, sliding into place next to Isabelle on the sofa and tossing a blanket over each of their legs

“I didn’t realize there were so many rules,” Izzy laughs.

“Not rules… just… ideal circumstances,” Clary insists before repeating her previous statement. “It has to be perfect.”

Isabelle bites back an instinctive cheesy reply about how it already is perfect. The overly sweet holiday sentimentality is supposed to be Clary’s deal. Izzy is here solely as the reluctant humbug in need of convincing.

“It’s just a movie, Clary. The only thing it needs to be is on a screen,” Izzy points out.

“Shhhhhh,” Clary says, just as the screen comes to life with a montage of the first snow in some sleepy little town with a population of roughly 10 people from the looks of it. “It’s starting.”

Isabelle does her best to focus on the movie, but it’s difficult when Clary is tucked up against her side so closely that the smell of her strawberry shampoo mixes with the rich chocolate of the cocoa. She’s thankful for the warmth from the drink to mask the flush on her face when Clary’s hand moves to rest over Izzy’s leg.

It’s fine. This is fine. She’s been closer to Clary during training and out in the field a dozen times, she can handle sitting close to her on a sofa for two hours.

Izzy’s fully prepared to pretend to care about the characters of whatever predictable romance is about to unfold, and while Izzy isn’t entirely wrong about the plot she finds herself surprisingly sucked into the character’s lives.

“Why won’t they just talk?!” Izzy asks out loud an hour into the movie.

“Because then we wouldn’t have such delicious miscommunication,” Clary smirks.

“But they like each other! This is so stupid, just TELL HER!” Izzy turns her frustration to the screen in front of them, trying to ignore the self-satisfied smile on Clary’s face at how invested Izzy has become.

Izzy, meanwhile, finds her own face pulling tight, her thoughts turning from the frustration of the characters in the movie to her personal frustration. Just tell her, Izzy thinks to herself with a brief eye roll. As if it’s that easy.

“Everything alright?” Clary asks beside her, catching Isabelle’s shift in mood almost immediately. Clary’s always so good at reading her. Clary knows her so well. Clary… Clary… “Isabelle?”

“This is so stupid,” Izzy mutters to herself.

“I mean, I know it isn’t the best, but-” “No, not the movie. The ‘not talking’,” Izzy tries again.

“Well, yeah, but that’s half the movie-” “Not the movie,” Izzy sighs, shifting on the sofa to face Clary fully. “Me. Not telling you… that I like you.”

Isabelle is almost afraid to meet Clary’s gaze after the confession, but she does, only to see Clary smiling softly back at her.

  “About time,” Clary says.

Izzy’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, I didn’t know for sure, but I hoped… you were willing to watch this with me, after all,” Clary points out.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” Isabelle asks.

Clary shrugs. “Why didn’t you?”

“The delicious miscommunication?” Isabelle offers with the slightest smirk of her own.

Clary laughs, loud and with a touch of relief. “Touche.”

“So… now what?” Izzy asks, and this time her question is no longer laced with the bad kind of nervous anticipation, but with the best, electric, skin-tingling kind in the universe. The uncertainty is gone, and she knows what lies ahead is going to be nothing short of, well, magical.

“Well,” Clary starts slowly, leaning in as she speaks. “We haven’t gotten to this bit of the movie yet, but I think this is the part where we finally kiss.”

Maybe there’s something to all these budding winter romances after all.

“My favorite part,” Isabelle says as she leans in to meet her.

#clary fray #isabelle lightwood #clizzy #shadowhunters #tmi #christmas fluff #i haven't written in ages #but i wanted to gift my spouse a little sapphic fluff so here we are

[scrambleseggy]

I think something wild about being an afab going on T at almost 30 and also being someone who’s lived an overall queer experience under a somewhat tedious labeling process is that I have MET toxic masculine trans men. For the record, I very much appear as a cis woman to people, and most people I meet just kinda sum me up as “some sorta lesbian.”

TW from some harsher personal experiences.

Back in my early 20’s, one of my FTM franchise managers sexually harassed me at a company party very inappropriately. Within the same time frame, one of my now ex-friends and on-site manager was dating a trans men who fit ALL the stereotypes of toxic masculinity: disregard for others, pavement princess giant truck, constantly talking over others or using his strength as a source of intimidation (and I would say a source of overcompensation as well lets be real here lol). At a certain point he made this ex-friend cry so much, I had to ban him from my house and tell him I’d try to get a restraining order if he came back.

So it does really annoy me that there seems to be an ignorant group of people who form online when trans women speak about transmisogyny within the community. Because there are trans men out there who act like complete douchebags and assholes to validate themselves in their identity or they’re just plainly assholes, and this is something I would see a lot at gay clubs as opposed to tight knit groups or niche online circles. Trans women and others are trying to tell ya’ll that this is a problem that happens and some of you are childishly sticking your fingers in your ears and going “LALALA TRANSANDROPHOBIA SHHHHHH” and it’s like… Ya’ll, you don’t have to turn a blind eye to this shit because quite frankly it’s embarrassing and very misinformed.

I will say however that as someone who is thinking about transition now, I can empathize with the knee-jerk reaction as well. It’s really scary to have people tell you the negative things you could become or ways you could hurt people. It can actually in my experience be a whole driving force in continuing to remain dysphoric through your life because it’s better to do that than feel like you may end up being completely alienated from everyone, especially if all women are a very important part to you in your life.

The whole “T is poison” thing runs deep. I always had this fear that the moment I’d start it would be the moment I would become the very thing I’m made to be afraid of even if it’s what I want to be. It’s such a difficult ball of yarn to unravel. What if I did get male privilege, but even in my gender euphoria, I end up hating myself anyway? What if I don’t get male privilege or “pass” but people in the “community” (such a loose and confusing word imo) also hate me and then I have no one? If straight women treat me bad after or before “passing”, if lesbian women see me in ways I don’t want to be seen, if cis straight men think I’m a freak and gay men think I’m an intruder… Where does that place me in the world? And who really am I? Will people believe me less or more when I’m hurt by others?

I think it’s atleast something for people to consider because as someone who’s dealing with really bad dysphoria right now, these are the kinds of thoughts that have been running through my head.

It’s also good to remember that online is online and real life is real life. Yes sometimes they reflect each other, but oftentimes, people lie on the internet (GASP!) and speak in exaggerations.

This is why it’s always good to try and strive for local connects to maintain your own sanity. At the end of the day, I know my own friends who still see me as the same person. And getting to know my own family of queer people of all kinds who I love dearly and they love me back does make the world feel like a more understanding place and less like a cruel and divisive one. I guess it’s just something to keep in mind.

#trans men #transgender #lgbtq+

[crisispider]

♣ + spideydevil :)

[ ◉¯] ✧˖° → @blindbastard + send me ♣ + a ship and i’ll tell you…

✧˖° → WHO IS THE BETTER DANCER? Everyone knows Peter can't dance. It's just common knowledge, sure he will say that he can and he will give it his best WHITE GUY go of it but like at the end of the day if there is to be a better dancer it isn't Peter.

✧˖° → WHO LIKES THE OUTDOORS MORE AND WHO LIKES THE INDOORS MORE? See the thing is they are both new york boys, and like I would argue that they both like being outside in their city a fair and maybe equal amount, maybe Peter a little more than Matt if that's not exactly his full thing.

Now if we are talking full on camping/hiking/fishing/sports that sort of thing? See that's hard to say. Peter is very much a city boy he had no interest in any of that ans is very much an indoor boy.

✧˖° → WHO'S A CAT PERSON AND WHO'S A DOG PERSON? I feel like they are both definitely CAT BOYS, because like I mean... look at them. So clearly what I am hearing is that they need to adopt a kitten together.

✧˖° → WHO'S MORE SOCIAL? Mhmmm going off what I know of Matt (and I could be wrong so tell me if I am!) I would imagine that Peter is the more social one of the two of them. Peter loves making friends and is all about community when he isn't in a depression spiral.

✧˖° → WHO MAKES THE BED EVERY MORNING? Matt would have to do a whole lot of SWEET TALKING if he wants Peter to make any bed, he thinks it's the silliest thing in the world... buuuut sometimes you can convince him to do it.

✧˖° → WHO LIKES TO KEEP THE HOUSE COLD AND WHO LIKES TO KEEP THE HOUSE WARM? Peter struggles with temperature regulation to the point that it can even effect his mood, so he tries to keep it at a really comfortable temp a little chilly but not too chilly. He is occasionally a time to put up with Matt.

✧˖° → WHO TAKES LONGER GETTING READY? See the thing is they are both heroes and needing to be able to get in and out of costumes and lightening speed but Peter is also full of ADHD so when he isn't trying to race off to fight crime or avoid getting caught in his costume it takes him forever to get out the door and he is often late to pretty much everything even when it isn't because of superheroing.

✧˖° → WHO LIKES SCARY MOVIES AND WHO LIKES FUNNY ONES?

Okay so here is the thing. Peter is just an all around movies person. He loves pretty much any genre of film too. He loves the adrenaline rush from a really good scary movie. (Or the giggle of all the outrageously bad ones.) He loves romances and comedies and dramas that make him cry. So it would all depend on if Matt happens to have a favorite genre that he prefers.

✧˖° → WHO SCREAMS WHEN THEY SEE A BUG AND WHO IS KILLING IT?

I mean... one of them kinda IS a bug. (yes we know that spiders are not bugs but shhhhhh) So I can't really imagine either one of them are the type to really scream about a bug in the house, and Peter tends to live a pretty big 'capture & release' policy for pretty much all living creatures.

✧˖° → WHO IS THE MORE TECHNOLOGY CHALLENGED?

See.. here is the thing, I would argue it's technically Matt, but only because Peter is a genius who literally builds his own web shooters and gear more often than he doesn't.

✧˖° → WHO WOULD BE MORE LIKELY TO BURN SOMETHING IN THE OVEN?

Have you met Peter B. Parker? Obviously it's him.

✧˖° → WHO TALKS IN THEIR SLEEP?

I would make an argument for either one of them, they both have a lot of unresolved trauma and need therapy. Nightmares happen. But I feel like they both have cute ways to help comfort the other when it happens.

✧˖° → WHO LEAVES THE CAP OFF THE TOOTHPASTE?

Peter is the living embodiment of ADHD most days. It's obviously him, but it's never done on purpose, he is just... forgetful.

✧˖° → WHO LIKES GETTING DRESSED UP MORE?

I would say... Matt? I don't know if I would say he LIKES it, but he is a lawyer and there is so much suit wearing happening on a daily basis, as to where Peter would like to actively avoid suits at all cost.

✧˖° → WHO'S BETTER AT TYING TIES?

Matt. He does tie one every day after all, but Peter is desperately trying to learn to do it better so he can do it for Matt in the morning. ( I have a million and one headcanons about how helping your partner get dressed in the morning or for bed and having established domestic routines like that is just Peter's jam.)

✧˖° → WHO RECORDED THE ANSWERING MESSAGE ON THE HOUSE PHONE?

It's both of them, because if Matt isn't involved the message is absolutely going to be the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever heard. Peter can't do anything at a CHILL level.

✧˖° → WHO'S BETTER AT PLANNING ROMANTIC THINGS?

I would say... Peter. He is a hopeless romantic, and when he tries? Oooo that boy can be so smooth. (In an awkward dorky kind of way.) He loves, love. He loves being in love? and he loves Matt. This isin't to say he doesn't mess up, because we all know that he does. He misses important dates, and he is always late, but I think because both of them are superheros they would find this lovely little balance that could be so cute and sweet? Thing of the patrolling dates!

✧˖° → WHO TAKES UP MORE SPACE IN THE CLOSET?

Peter. He has a lot nerdy shirts. Don't judge him.

✧˖° → WHO HAS MORE OF A SWEET TOOTH?

Peter. Peter has such a fucking sweet tooth that sometimes you really should be treating him like a child.

✧˖° → WHO DRINKS MORE OFTEN?

It's hard to say, I wouldn't really classify either of them as really drinkers persay... but I do know that Peter is way more of a stoner and prefers a high to a drunk any day.

✧˖° → WHO IS THE MOST LIKELY TO LAUGH DURING A SERIOUS SITUATION?

Again I say, have you met Peter Benjamin Parker? He finds ways to make jokes in literally EVERY situation. It's what he does.

#[ ◉¯] ✧˖° ♡ → And just say the word.. We'll take on the world.. [ Matt || Blindbastard ] #blindbastard #[ ◉¯] ✧˖° → I handled it like a champion. [ Inbox Interactions ] #I tried my best!! #I just think they would be really cute

[crypticcodexcreations]

More random thoughts because I'm thinking a lot about how writers dissuade themselves from writing stories

"My idea is just x!"

Listen to me, listen to me carefully. I joke about Vincent being William's evil shadow self because I literally started with the same concept for both of them. William just focused on some parts more while Vincent focused on other parts more. Fucked up scientist studying the supernatural as he's become obsessed. They diverged incredibly quickly. Vincent exists because as much as I love William, I missed the Villain Vibes that got lost.

"But that's different!" I hear you cry in my notes, but shhhhhh, I'm not done yet.

Reapers is literally just me looking at Black Butler's system for Reapers and going "hmmmmm, but what if it was voluntary instead?" Do you see where I'm going with this?

Listen to me carefully. If you see a thing and go "I have ideas to write based off this but that's copying!" That is the devil talking to you and squashing your fun. Take your inner devil by the throat and explain to them this: You are not going to write the same story if you're doing it because it's fun. Because just copying down a story word for word isn't fun.

You're going to get in that sandbox and start building your sandcastle and realize that you want to do this or that differently and before you know it you're going to look at your sand castle and realize that while you used a lot of the same sand, that original person has a beautiful standard European castle and yours looks like the evil queen lives there. Or maybe it'll be more like the palaces of a completely different culture. Hell, maybe you thought you were making a castle and now you've ended up with a Greek temple! Oops how did that happen!

But the changes will be enough that no one thinks they're the same castle. Because the things you change are the fun part. And maybe they are both European castles, but they still don't look the same because of course they won't! The little differences add up! So who cares if your story is "x but this different thing happens" if you set out to have fun with it with the intent of making a different thing, it WILL be different. Build your sandcastle, because it will be yours.

#Cryptic Rambling

[stormyoceans]

I'm sorry cause I have no idea if you already talked about it or if you'd even like to but I'm so in love obsessed with your 100 shows for js and I'm just back from watching titanic so please tell me there's a titanic au anywhere in there cause palakdjufcyhfudjsnapsifhvuvhsk I need it. Jimmy as the rich heir that has to board a ship so he may inherit his father's millions and marry a stranger. who feels trapped and hopeless and sea (I mean come in the NAME ALONE -) who's on the ship by sheer dumb luck with maybe 2 pennies to his name and charcoal on his fingertips and shows Jimmy what it means to be alive and 2 days into the journey the ship fucking sinks. IM INSANE ABOUT IT

(maybe mostly as an excuse to put sea into the white shirt and suspenders look this time around but shhhhhh no one has to know)

I DO NOT HAVE A TITANIC AU IN MY 100 JIMMYSEA SERIES LIST (YET) BUT MAYBE I ACTUALLY NEED TO COME UP WITH AN IDEA FOR IT BECAUSE YOU DO MAKE SOME VERY COMPELLING ARGUMENTS

i've also really been wanting to have a story featuring sea as a painter, so this could fit quite nicely!!!! my only concern about this is that i don't want to just replicate the exact same plot as the movie, i want to try to put a different spin on it, which in this particular case probably means changing the ending because i simply cannot do tragedies IM SORRY OKAY I REALLY AM BUT WE ONLY DO HAPPY ENDINGS IN THIS HOUSE

and i might have an idea for this, but im afraid it's possibly way too overdramatic and kinda soap oper-y, so im gonna need you to be brutally honest and tell me what you think about it

the premise is pretty much the same: it's around the 1920s, and as an only son, jimmy is supposed to inherit the family’s land and marry well, so his father arranges a marriage between him and the daughter of a wealthy english man for trade purposes or something like that. after the wedding the pairing is supposed to live in thailand, so the families agree to travel together to england before the ceremony to.. idk experience both cultures? let the daughter see her country one last time and say goodbye to it? let's say both. on the ship board jimmy, both of his parents with a couple of servants, the woman he's supposed to marry, her brother, and her father

neither jimmy or his future wife are particularly happy about the arrangement, but jimmy is willing to do it because of his sense of duty. it's not like he believes in love, anyway. enter sea, a broke artist who decides to try his luck in england after winning a ticket for the ship. the story does follow the movie from here on out, although i can't see jimmy and sea meeting in the way rose and jack do, just because im imagining a different dynamic between them (as in, i think that they would dislike each other at first and that they would bicker a lot because of their different worldviews, but that's what keeps pulling them in)

ANYWAY. the point is: they meet, they eventually fall in love (it's a long journey from thailand to england, so let's say the sinking doesn't happen after only two days), the brother of the woman jimmy is supposed to marry realizes that there's something between them and tries to frame sea for theft, the ship hits.. SOMETHING (is there a place where there could be icebergs in that route idk), the ship sinks, jimmy comes out of it convinced that sea is dead so he goes on with the marriage, mostly out of guilt because jimmy's father also died

EXCEPT!!!!!!! some years later, after jimmy and her wife finally have a daughter, as a present for the newborn one of their friends hires one of thailand most famous artists to paint a portrait of the family, AND GUESS WHO THAT IS!!!!!!!!! that's right, it's sea!!!!!! he actually survived and did try to find jimmy after recovering, but jimmy was already married by then and the wife's brother saw him and convinced him to let jimmy go for jimmy's own good

so now it's a big mess because jimmy resents sea (first because he thinks sea didn't try to find him, then because sea made the choice for him), and sea resents jimmy (for marrying anyway even if it was all fake), and they're both pretending they have moved on when it's very much not true. and in my head there's also a whole thing about the wife's brother inheriting the family's fortune and splurging it all, so he's actually living on his sister and jimmy's money, which is why he needs them to be together (but his sister is also maybe in love with her handmaid)

ALL THIS TO SAY THAT THE STORY ENDS WITH JIMMYSEA + JIMMY'S WIFE AND HER HANDMAIDEN TOGETHER AND THE FOUR OF THEM BECOMING A BIG FAMILY AND RAISING THE CHILD WHILE THE BROTHER ROTS IN JAIL OKAY BYE

#DOES ANY OF THIS MAKE SENSE #IS IT TOO DRAMATIC AND MESSY #IS IT TOO SIMILAR TO TITANIC + IFYLITA #IDK I TRIED ;;;;;;;;; #ANYWAY. thank you sosososo much for liking my silly jimmysea series ideas and for letting me know!!!!!! #that was very sweet of you and it really means a lot 🥺 #also i LOVE the titanic idea (even if maybe i need to work on it a little more ;;;;;;;) #and it kinda got way too long so i left out some stuff like #👀 SEA IN SUSPENDERS 👀 SEA DRAWING JIMMY NAKED 👀 WHAT HAPPENS IN THAT CAR 👀 #but um yeah anyway #im sorry this entire answer is such a mess #but i hope you know i appreciated your message and had a lot of fun with your idea!!!!!! #wishing you the most wonderful day!!!!!! 💜💜💜 #jimmysea #byallaccountsitdoesntmakesense #m: ask

[sn1ckie]

okay because people wanted me to talk more about the motifs in each family in DNDADS, so let’s start easy with the stamper family, and then stepping up

major spoilers for all of dndads s1-s2/atmod

Starting with my main man. the one and only. the love of my life, Stud Stampler. He willingly gave up his dreams of perusing an acting career to raise his nephew willy. Stud was across the country and had no reason to claim sole responsibility over willy, other than familial ties. stud put his dreams on pause to get a real job to support a kid that doesn’t even like him. he then lost said job by stepping up and protecting “the little guy” on set. he stepped up and banished the doodler despite him going insane.

next willy. willy isn’t directly obvious. he’s the outlier, the only downright abusive parent in the stampler family (other than willy’s own father. i can’t remember if he was ever abusive or just an alcoholic). after death, willy was offered a way to live forever and stepped up. he brought together the omega daddies and presumably made the plan to get the s1 kids. he doesn’t cleanly fit into this motif, but i wanted to add this in.

now ron, the stepdad who STEPPED UP. even when Terry jr. resented Ron, Ron wanted to protect him throughout the adventure. because of Ron’s past and history of abuse, he does not communicate his feelings and emotions effectively to terry jr, creating a huge divide between stepdad and stepson. even with Terry's meanness and outright hostility, ron still tries to be there for him (even though he’s a little emotionally detached). Ron may not be the step day terry wanted, but he’s the one he got. Ron probably knows deep down that he will never replace the void left by terry sr in both terry he and Samantha, but he will definitely step up and try. We can even infer that by hints left in season 2, that D.a.d.d.i.e.s was either rons idea or ron taking a leading role in the company. after the sky turned red and the doodler was released, ron stepped up and created a whole new company to capture and detain the doodlers alkylates. ron was even in the original d.a.d.d.i.e.s introduction tape.

similar to Ron, Terry Jr (I'm just going to call him TJ) became a step dad to a less than willing stepchild. even though he can relate to what scary is feeling and going through, he never once disregarded any of her boundaries. when TJ asked what scary wanted, and she said for him to go away, he did without hesitation. even though he wanted to talk to his stepdaughter (for what could have been the very last time) he respected that she didn’t and left. and after the s1 dads disappearance/death, TJ (and the other kids but shhhhhh) stepped up to be the leaders of a whole secret company.

now scary. she doesn’t fit this motif just quite yet. to be fair, it’s still early in the season, but scary seems to reject the idea of stepping up. she’s rebellious and actively rejects any leadership roles that present themselves to scary. her patron is also willy, the only other stampler that doesn’t fit cleanly into this motif. by embracing willy’s power she completely opposes TJ and the rest of the stamper family. willy is everything the rest of the stamplers are not. and by drawing power from willy she rejects the idea of her being a stampler, for even a second. maybe later in her arc and story, she allows herself to be brave and step up

#long post #this is probably not very smart #sorry for the people who wanted a good analysis #but it’s just me yelling into the void #dndads #dndads atmod #at the mountains of dadness #stud stampler #willy stampler #dungeons and daddies #dndads s2 #ron stampler #terry junior #terry jr #scary marlowe

[tokillamockingbird427]

I figured it out!!! Her name is delta and her dog is bones. Bones is a fluffy Belgian Malinois who’s pure black with a white spot on his face that looks like a skull. Hence the name (we’ll ignore that Delta is almost a self-insert for me. Shhhhhh) idk if bones’s colors are genetically possible but I don’t care I LOVE HIM.

Delta is so done with Logan’s idiocy. She just sighs and sips a monster energy. “I don’t know that guy. Nah he ain’t my brother.” Yes, she’s adopted. Sue her

-⚕️

Live Laugh Love Bones <3 what a damn cutie pie. And Delta is a cool name, that just her call sign or legit her legal name? Cus if it's the latter that's kinda funny. Who tf names their kid Delta? /J

(Looking it up; Appears that white spots are very possible, just not "breed standard" so Bones won't be winning doggie pageants but he's won our hearts so who's the real winner here? Bones is.) (And all Oc's are self inserts, it comes free with their creation. I got like six of them bitches. Shhhhhhh.)

Delta is just every sibling ever. Telling them "Don't do the thing" doesn't work because the only change will be that they now do the thing with a shit eating grin. Emotionally he's disowned, legally? Still working on it.

#call of duty #call of duty ghosts #logan walker #delta walker (asclepius's oc) #bones (asclepius's oc) #beloved anon #⚕️ anon

[michi-beans]

My possessed brain at 4:00 AM coming up with a Star Wars OC:

☆ Lore down below:

》 Juno, force sensitive human mandalorian. Born in 14 BBY on Mandalore, 5 years before the start of the Empire. His buir took him out of the planet when the heat between the New Mandalorians and Death Watch got too dangerous for her to raise him considering not much of the True Mandalorians were left after the Battle of Korda Six. They lived fine for a year until until the Empire fully began. One thing led to another, his buir was killed, Vader and Nasty Man got their hands on him. They decided to keep him as Vader's apprentice in secret in order to have someone to use and keep Mandalore in their hands later on. Although, this didn't really last because the Night of a Thousand Years happened that very same year. So they didn't really need him anymore, but still kept him anyways. Palpatine didn't have much patience for him due to the boy being stubborn and refusing to be something other than a Mandalorian. Which is why he never truly fell to the dark side and doesn't have the yellow eyes. He's Mandalorain before anything else. So you know, trauma ensues, scars were made after the years from punishment. As much as he fought it, he ended up learning well from being forcibly trained by Vader. I want to say he escaped two or three years before the events of the original trilogy. For some reason they allowed him to keep his buir's armor so he had something to take, plus a large amount of beskar ingots he stole. Unfortunately, Vader caught up to him and the two had one last duel. The Sith Lord decided to "test" him and see if Juno deserved to be free. Like true Skywalker fashion, Vader cut off both his arms and left him for dead. Surprise, he didn't die and fortunately the planet he was on had a mod-parlor, so he got himself some cybernetics. Later he would use the beskar he stole to create neskar versions complete with the gauntlets. Years would pass, kept to himself in order to avoid being caught again by the Empire, which luckily not many knew of his existence anyways. He would later come to save Naro and Kesh from a slavers mines. They wouldn't leave him be so he has companions now. Empire fell, time went on and next thing he know he not only got adopted by the togruta and zabrack he saved, but also by the tried old man that is apparently Tatooine's Daimyo.

》 Yes essentially this is just my excuse for Boba to also have a force sensitive ad and Din to be omg we have two now so now Clan Fett-Djarin has two children and grogu has a big bro who wouldn't hesitate to murder anyone who dares to hurt him just like mama Din and papa Boba, probably a little more murderous considering he was trained by a Sith but shhhhhh we don't talk about that.

》 He used to wear a force nulling collar but came to terms with being force sensitive thanks to Naro and Kesh and later from his new aliit. Not used as often but still on occasions. He may be like eww no I don't want to be a Jedi/Sith, yet he still kept his lightsabers. He will probably end up building one for his vod, Grogu deserves one too. He was also really proud when he learned Grogu chose Din over training with Luke. Kriffing jetii and their attachment issues.

#star wars #star wars oc #juno sw #naroi kio #keshtaa #michiart