#I hope I can get my mother to get my father to not do this shit right before I have to go to sleep

[the-flaneur]

four-tune favours the bold (mv1)

pairing: max verstappen x alonso!reader [smau]

summary: having won his fourth world title, max finds no better time to tell your father that you're dating (and to maybe also get his blessing)

warnings: none (i think)

a/n: now that we finally have M4X (yipeeeeee), can we please get goatlonso back, preferably in the next few years (pls let the newey rocketship work)

[masterlist] [requests]

-> instagram

y/n_priv

liked by fatherofthree, blackdontcrack, inchident_no1 and others

y/n_priv reactions after max told me he had told dad about us (he lied)

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blackdontcrack max stop sending your girlfriend into a heart attack, she's already getting one from your kids

fatherofthree she learnt that one from you and roscoe 💀 blackdontcrack HEY. my son is very well behaved

notnowinsnomore I DONT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WONT JUST TELL HIM, IT'S NOT THAT HARD MAX

fatherofthree DO YOU WANT TO TELL HIM FOR ME 🤨🤨🤨 notnowinsnomore NO???? DO YOU THINK I WANT TO DIE??? notnowinsnomore IT'S ALSO YOUR RELATIONSHIP, NOT MINE

honeyhoney you've got to give him like 10 years to process that you're even in the same social sphere as his daughter...good luck man

fatherofthree thanks dan 😖 fatherofthree padel later? y/n_priv no? we have our date??? 😧😧😧 honeyhoney you beating up max now y/nnie? y/n_priv 😁👍

yourbff_priv babes ditch the men for me 😍

y/n_priv yes wifey 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 fatherofthree @/yourbff_priv stop stealing MY girlfriend yourbff_priv skill issue

fatherofthree

liked by y/n_priv, inchident_no1, notnowinsnomore and others

fatherofthree stopped her from becoming blonde and still got kisses xoxo

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notnowinsnomore that second picture is exactly is what's gonna put you on top of fernando's kill list

fatherofthree no it wont notnowinsnomore yes it will inchident_no1 yes it will blackdontcrack yes it will honeyhoney yes it will ima5starmichelin yes it will buzzlightyear yes it will y/n_priv yes it will fatherofthree ok maybe it will. but fernando doesn't need to know

inchident_no1 your rendition of my heart goes on is truly...

y/n_priv truly what CHARLES? say it with your pussy fatherofthree YEAH WHAT SHE SAID inchident_no1 rubbish 🙄 y/n_priv BOOOOOOO YOU'RE RUBBISH

y/n_priv

liked by fatherofthree, spicysugarbaby, inchident_no1 and others

y/n_priv PUTTING IT ALL ON BLACK! VIVA LAS VEGAS BABY 🤩 YOU ARE WELCOME TO JOIN US AT THE MGM UNTIL THURSDAY MORNING @/f1

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inchident_no1 should've bet on red 😉 wouldn't have lost you 100k

spicysugarbaby agreed 🤭 blackdontcrack well i SEVERELY disagree since we won 250k on the next spin on black so.... fatherofthree I LEAVE YOU ALONE WITH THEM FOR 10 MINUTES AND YOU'VE ALREADY BET 250K??? y/n_priv yeah but it's an investment babe 😘

antman can i join you guys? 🥺🥺🥺

y/n_priv not yet little kimi, in another three years (i think; i'll take you to the casino then myself ☺️) y/n_priv and yes you too @/we_are_barebears we_are_barebears YESSSSS 😌

f1 can i come over pls pls

y/n_priv of course admin ❤️ f1 yay 😁

-> messages

-> instagram

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, fernandoalo_oficial and others

yourusername feeling right at home here, dressed and betting on red

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user1 HOLY LORD MOTHER IS FINALLY BACK TO SERVE CUNT IN THE PADDOCK 🥵🥵🥵

user2 the sexy spanish alonso genes are real with this one yourusername i would hope so! 🥱 user3 istg ive never seen a spanish person look bad in red

user4 GOD REALLY GIVES US Y/N AS AN APOLOGY CAUSE HOW DOES SHE EXIST????

user5 she's literally a goddess on earth user6 the face economy is unreal with her 😍 yourusername cant just be a nepo baby, gotta make papa proud 😘

user7 super hyped for vegas now that you're here with us y/n 🤩

user8 hopefully we see another alonso top 10 (i can copium for a top 6) user9 he will literally dnf everyone if it means y/n gets to see him podium or win again (2023 was literally iconic) yourusername papa will be ready to make stroll do crashgate 😉 (but i've asked him to refrain for this weekend) user10 ya'll y/n's cooking 😌😌😌

user11 ERM ANYONE GONNA BRING UP PIC 3 CAUSE....

user12 YA'LL GIRLIE I WAS GONNA SAY THE SAME THING user13 who's that @/yourusername 🤨 user14 who's that @/yourusername 🤨 yourusername no comment 🥺👉👈 user15 whoever that is do be looking fine affff user16 also probably fearing for his life, considering she's got like ten godfathers and then over twenty drivers ready to bash a man for her 💀💀💀

user17 THE FERRARI AURA IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE 😆

fernandoalo_oficial who's that princessa

yourusername i will tell you soon papa 😁

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 suited up and ready to take on vegas. 💪 bring on the race 🎰

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user18 STILL COOKING WITH A SLIGHTLY COOKED CAR, LETS GET TITLE NUMBER 4 💪💪💪

user19 literally salivating over pic one, cause he's so fine 🥵

user20 waiting for "2024 fia f1 world champion is max verstappen"

user21 SIMPLY LOVELY PUTTING YOURSELF INTO A STRONG POSITION

user22 getting the ladies i see in pic two 🤣

user23 he knows what he wants, and what he's going to get afterwards 😏

user24 VIVA LAS VEGASSSSSS, GETTING READY TO RUMBLE

-> twitter

-> irl

as max stepped out of the cockpit of his red bull - his gloved hands trembling slightly - he could feel the relief coursing through him, palpable even under the thick layers of his racing suit and balaclava. the cold autumn air nipped at his damp skin, but he barely noticed, lost in the overwhelming rush of emotions.

after a very, very long season, filled with challenges both in and out of the car, he had finally done it…he had won his fourth world championship. 

as he stood there under the vegas lights, savoring this triumphant moment in front of the roaring crowd, his thoughts drifted to you.

throughout the year, your presence had always been a beacon amidst the chaos, a constant reminder of what truly mattered to him beyond the roar of engines and the glare of millions of fans. as he ran towards his team, his chest pounding and blood rushing in his ears, he thought of your earlier message, and his heart swelled with affection for you. he knew now was finally the perfect opportunity to share his love for you with the rest of the world.

as you watched max leap into the waiting arms of his jubilant crew, who slapped his back, clapping and cheering, chanting his name, you tried furiously to blink away the tears. your boyfriend had finally achieved his fourth world title, and he was making both of your wishes come true.

walking over to the other drivers, max felt the hand of another behind him. turning around, the butterflies in his stomach heaved once again, coming face to face with your father, fernando alonso. max's exuberant gaze locked onto the figure before him, and as their eyes met, max felt the familiar flutter of nervousness in his chest, a sensation he'd grown accustomed to whenever thinking of you and your father.

"max," fernando greeted him warmly, extending a strong hand. "congratulations. you've earned every bit of this championship." max clapped his hand firmly, trying to hide the slight tremble behind his grin. "thank you, fernando,”

max blushed for a second, as fernando leant up to pinch his cheeks, while also grinning widely at him. as fernando's gaze lingered on max, he thought for a second that he had found out about the two of you, and was instead ready to pull him by the cheek in for a very obvious threat and kick to the balls.

"i must say," fernando began, his tone sincere, "you've shown remarkable resilience this season. much like myself. i hope to see you continue working hard for many years," his words carried a hint of approval.

max swallowed hard, his mind racing, as he opened his mouth to speak.

“i-i’m dating your daughter,” max’s heart pounded in his chest, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them. fernando’s expression remained jubilant, but there was a glimmer of something unreadable in his eyes. the air between them seemed to crackle with tension.

“i…i didn’t know she was seeing someone,” fernando said slowly, his voice low and controlled, as he waved to the crowd, whilst pulling max towards the other drivers. there was no denying the facts now – fernando knew about their relationship. and while max couldn’t read the older man’s thoughts, he felt a surge of nervous energy course through him. would this revelation change things? between him and fernando?

as if sensing his turmoil, fernando turned back around abruptly, causing max to jump slightly.

fernando studied max intently, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "but i'm glad to hear that it's you max. my daughter deserves nothing less than the best."

with those words, fernando extended his hand once more, this time with a newfound warmth that spoke volumes. max grasped it firmly, sealing a silent pact between them. as they released their grip, fernando placed a hand on max's shoulder, pulling him in. "but listen closely mijo," he said, still grinning but his voice low and conspiratorial, "you mess with my daughter, and i will not hesitate to run you off the track or run you over. if you care for her, then show her that she's your number one priority, both on and off the track."

max felt a chill run down his spine at fernando's warning, but he also sensed a strange kind of respect behind it. this was a man who protected his family fiercely, and max wanted nothing more than to earn his place within that circle.

"yes, sir," he replied fervently, meeting fernando's intense stare head-on. "she is my priority, always. i promise you, i'll do whatever it takes to make her happy and keep her safe." fernando studied him for a long moment, searching for any sign of doubt. finally, he gave a curt nod, releasing max's shoulder.

"alright then," he said, "just remember what i told you. and welcome to the family, officially." as fernando walked away, max took a deep breath, his mind already racing. he glanced around at the celebrating crowd, their faces alight with joy and admiration, and couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within him.

but more than anything, max yearned to share this moment with you, to bask in the glow of his victory together and celebrate the love that had sustained him throughout the season. max scanned the bustling crowd, his eyes searching for a glimpse of your familiar features amidst the sea of faces. spotting you lingering nervously near the red bull personnel, he pushed through the throng of people, making a beeline directly for you. as he drew nearer, you couldn't help but notice the look of pure adoration etched across his handsome features. his dark hair was damp with sweat, his broad shoulders still trembling slightly from the exertion of the race. but his eyes shone brightly with triumph and something far warmer - his love for you.

"y/n!" he called out, his voice ringing above the din of the party. pulling you through the celebrating crowd, he wrapped you up in a crushing embrace, lifting you off your feet. you melted into his embrace, pouring every ounce of your joy, pride, and adoration into it.

your laughter mingled with the roar of the crowd as max set you back on your feet, his hands lingering on your waist. he gazed into your eyes, his own shimmering with unshed tears of happiness. in that moment, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a bubble of pure bliss.

"y/n," max whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "i did it. we did it." he pressed his forehead against yours, savoring the warmth of your skin and the closeness that came with sharing such an intimate moment.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer until your lips met in a searing kiss, pouring years of shared dreams and unspoken promises into that single, passionate gesture. the world around them melted away as max lost himself in the taste and feel of your lips, his body molding perfectly against yours. his hands roamed over your curves, tracing the contours he knew so well, as if mapping out the path to your heart.

when you finally broke apart, both panting for air, max rested his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with a mixture of triumph and tenderness. "i want to spend the rest of my life making you feel this way," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "i want to wake up every morning with you by my side and fall asleep every night in your arms."

he reached into his pocket, his fingers brushing against the small velvet box that had been burning a hole there since the day he decided to propose. max dropped to one knee, his heart pounding in his chest as he gazed up at you with a look of pure adoration. the crowd around them seemed to hold its collective breath, the anticipation palpable in the air.

with trembling hands, max opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring nestled within. the stone glittered under the bright lights of the track, casting glittering cascades of light across your face.

"y/n," max began, his voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through him, "from the moment we met, you've been the driving force behind everything i've achieved. your love, support, and unwavering belief in me have pushed me to become the best version of myself, both on and off the track."

he paused, swallowing hard as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes.

"marry me," max breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "become my wife. let's race through life together because i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and no one else, i love you,"

with a shaky nod, you sank to your knees before him, cupping his face in your hands as you peppered his cheeks with tender kisses. "yes," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "a thousand times yes."

max slid the ring onto your finger, and pulling you up with him to your feet. spinning you around once more, your laughter ringing out like the sweetest melody. the crowd surged forward, enveloping you both in a sea of congratulations and well-wishes, their excitement nearly tangible in the air.

as the celebrations continued around them, max pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss that left no doubt about the depth of his love and commitment. in that moment, surrounded by the people who mattered most, max knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of victories, both on and off the track.

-> instagram

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

yourusername I LOVE LAS VEGAS BABYYYYY 😘 but in all honesty, i'm so so so proud of you max (more than words or actions could ever express). seeing you grow throughout the past four years into the champion you are today, is more than any gift i could ever receive. there were far more battles and challenges from this season, but you rose above them every time. you are a champion, both on and off the racetrack and you will never be alone in this world, as long as i'm here. keep them coming baby. i love you, forever and always 🧡

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maxverstappen1 i love you very much schatje, thank you for always being there for me 😘

fernandoalo_oficial i am very happy for the both of you 😁👍

yourusername thank you papa ☺️ promise me you wont shunt into max next race? fernandoalo_oficial no promises sorry princessa 🤭

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, francolapinto, yourusername and others

maxverstappen1 four time world champion baby!!! a season full of challenges, but with the support, dedication and the effort of the team, this result would not have been possible 🙌 a huge thank you to all involved for this incredible achievement 👏

and i just want to say the biggest thank you to the love of my life, my girlfriend of four years, and now my fiancee, y/n alonso. i love you so much, and i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you (even if your dad wants to run me over now)

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yourusername i love you more than anything else in this world maxie 🧡

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© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[xetlynn]

Can I ask for claggor x a piltover reader? She was raised in piltover and is very smart but was never ignorant to the condition of zaun and always tried her best to advocate and help the suffering people. I can imagine she would have a strong sense of guilt for loving claggor because she doesn't really understand the struggles he went through but will always try to help. <33 thank youuuu

Of course, I think I made this a little more dramatic than I meant to😭 but I hope this is good!

Arcane Imagines- Claggor

Mysterious

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: In which reader is from Piltover and makes a friend in Zaun. Feeling guilty for liking him since she doesn't understand his struggles.

My feet achingly moved seemingly before me. My back hurt as I carried a box full of stuff from Piltover to give to a friend in the undercity.

When I was younger I was so fascinated by the people of Zaun. About the difficulties they’ve been through. My mother was always bitter about them. Going on tangents about how the people from the undercity should be more grateful since everything is better now. And whenever she does that I have to remind her of their struggles to get to this wonderful position they’ve been creating for themselves. Supporting them only pisses her off further than before. She asks what about Piltover’s struggles which is never the point of my argument. 

We’re privileged enough to never know what it’s like going without food, running water and a roof being over our heads. Most of Zaun could or still to this day can not say the same. It’s something I’ve written about in school essays, joining groups to learn more about the undercity. 

As a younger teen I snuck into Zaun, wanting to understand them better, know them rather than read about their history. Hear it from the people themselves. I won’t truly ever know their struggles but I still wish to help them. Advocate for their history and their growth as a community. Help them be one with Piltover eventually without there being discourse of if they deserve it. 

Everyone deserves happiness, love, and a life without ridiculous danger. They deserve peace as much as the next person.

I was reckless when going to Zaun. Sneaking out of my house as a teen and somehow to the undercity without being caught will forever blow my mind. The reason I kept doing it though was after I sat down in this bar. It’s called The Last Drop. I just needed a place to rest after walking for miles. 

Talking with the people there. Not really a scene a young teenager should be in but I didn’t care. I just wanted to listen to their stories. And they always enjoyed having me around. Seeing me as a niece of some sort.  Hearing the first one made me want to hear more. Hence why I kept coming back. And more recently there's a new reason.

I met a new friend. His name I still don’t know. He never properly introduced himself to me. Not by his birth given name but by the first letter. He wanted me to guess. 

It’s been 3 months and he has yet to tell me what it is. Or in his words I didn't guess good enough.

I guess his father was the owner, Vander is his name. I’ve met him a few times but I never sat up at the actual bar. Just in a corner keeping to myself before I went to adventure out into Zaun after hearing random stories.

When I met C he had started working more hours at the bar to help out since it was getting busier and busier after some time with people from the Uppercity decided the place was a hit. I guess he worked earlier shifts so that’s why we never crossed paths when I first started going there. 

C and I hit it off slowly in the beginning.  

It was a rough start since we both had different upcomings. I didn’t know what it was like to have to get my hands dirty and work for things I want or need. I’ve always just… had it. 

Talking about C’s childhood and things he went through as I had nothing bad to say except for the fact that my mother is a witch of a woman. It made me realize how weird I am for being so interested in others' lives. It made me realize I don’t have a life of my own. I want to fix people who don’t need to be fixed. They’re perfect the way they are, no matter what they went through. They don’t need me to stick up for them. I also figured out that I’m falling for a friend, who again… I don’t know the name of and we will never share a similar story. He deserves someone who understands the same livelihood he knows. Someone who can appreciate things more than I ever could.

“[Name]!” A voice shouts, shaking me from my thoughts. “C!” I grin, shimmying the box in my hands. “Is this everything?” He takes it from me with furrowed eyebrows, looking it over. “Mhm, every single thing you asked for.” I place my hands on the back of my hips, stretching to crack my back. Letting out a small sigh of relief afterwards. 

“You alright?” He asks with a chuckle, leading me into his apartment that he and his brother share. “Yeah, I definitely got my exercise in for the day.” I half-heartedly joke, shutting the door behind us and he places the box down on the counter. “What is the food for, exactly?”

When he first requested the stuff from me, he told me it was for an experiment. Not really saying much after that. A few foods and then things you can really only get in Topside. 

“To eat.” He grabs an apple and bites into it. My shoulders fall, not expecting that answer. For some reason I thought it was going to be something cooler. “Oh.” I let out a breathy laugh. “I was hungry when I was putting in that request.” He rubs his stomach sadly. 

I shake my head with a smile. “It’s okay. So can I know what this project is now?” I hop up on the barstool in his kitchen. “It’s a secret.” He says briefly, putting the food away in his counters. I frown. “Dang, keeping another thing from me, C?” I tilt my head. 

“Gotta keep you on your toes, by being a mysterious, interesting man. Don’t want you getting sick of me.” He quipped, now giving me his full attention after placing the box on the ground. I glanced down at it then back to him. “I’ll always find you interesting. Maybe even more if you just tell me your name.” I pout.

Have I mentioned that I don’t know his name? No? Yeah, don’t know it. 

“Soon.” He reaches over and messes up my hair. I smack his hand away. Attempting to fix what he did. “I hope so.” I cross my arms. 

“I wish you could guess it. You didn’t even try hard enough.” He exclaims, my jaw drops at his words. “I can’t think of anything else! It has to be some sort of crazy unique name!” I utter, throwing my hands in the air. He lets out a belly laugh, “It’s not super unique.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes, jokingly annoyed. “I told you my name.” I murmur. “That’s because you’re not mysterious like me.” He purses out his lips, doing a little peace sign. “I know almost everything else about you. You are not mysterious.” I point a finger at his chest. “Really? What’s my favorite color?” 

“You tell people it’s blue but it’s actually yellow. Like dandelion yellow.” I raise my brows, making a face that expresses that he should try me. “Okay, pssh, lucky guess. Favorite food?” 

“Halibut, but only when it’s fried because you’re weird.” I tease, his eyes seem to widen at my words. “See, not so mysterious, huh?” I cross my arms. “Two things. That’s all you answered.” He walks away over to the living room. Plopping down on the couch. I stand up, rushing over to him. Bouncing on the cushion beside him. My hands holding his shoulder as I shake him. “Then ask more questions. I have the answers~” I sang out, leaning back. 

“Fine, how old am I?” He raises a brow. I put a finger on my chin, pretending like I was thinking. “21.” I simply say. “Okay, I never told you that. How’d you get that?” He scrunches his nose in confusement. I laugh. “Honestly I truly guessed that time. I’m 21 and I always figured we were the same age.” I snicker. 

“Wow, okay. Next question, how many siblings do I have?” I think back to conversations we’ve had or the time I bumped into his brother Mylo. He always talks about a girl named Powder. I want to say there’s one more though. I just can’t remember…

“... three?” I estimate. “Or two.” I perk up my posture. “Hm, it’s three. You really do listen.” He hums out. “Yeah, it’s Mylo, Powder and I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got the last one’s name.” I press my lips together, trying to rack it in my head. “Violet. She passed away when we were younger.” He sighs, I look at him through my eyelashes not wanting to make full eye contact as my heart drops.. 

“I’m sorry.” I whisper. “It’s alright, [Name]. You didn’t know.” He gives me a smile. It goes silent between the both of us. “Um… can I ask how? If not I totally understand. I don’t want to push that topic.” I shake my hands at the thought of forcing him to say something he wasn’t comfortable with.

“We were doing a stupid thing in Piltover. Sneaking into someone’s house. Just trying to get a few things for our dad. Extra money in his pocket. Something exploded. The impact unfortunately killed Vi.” He seems spaced out as he tells the story. I reach out and grab his hand.

I remember when that incident happened. It was all anyone talked about for a while. An undercity child passes away in an explosion after breaking into a scientist’s home. My mom… was an ass about the situation. 

“Any more questions?” I make an effort to switch the conversation so he doesn’t get upset due to my questioning of his sister's death like the dumb idiot that I am.

He looks down at my hand that was on top of his. “Claggor.” He suddenly says. I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Claggor?” I question, was that something I had to answer? “My name.” He mutters out. 

My mouth goes into the shape of an 'o.' Claggor... An interesting name for an interesting man like him.

“Hm… cute. It fits you.” I squeeze his hand before letting go. I didn’t even notice the dusty rose color across his cheeks. He mutters out a small thanks before we continue the conversation of me knowing certain things about him.

The entire time I think back to his sister, my chest aching. They were only kids trying to help their father. Not knowing that one of them wasn’t going to make it back home. How devastating. 

“You okay, [Name]?” He sits up, turning his body to face me. I fake a smile, waving him off. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just thinking. Sorry.” How am I supposed to be his friend if I carry guilt that has nothing to do with me? How can I like him and not be able to understand him? It’s idiotic looking. It makes me look selfish, turning other people's problems into my own. “Thinking about?” 

“Your name. How I never guessed it.” I force out a chuckle that sounds like a high pitched animal making me wince in embarrassment afterwards. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks me again. 

“I’m fine, Claggor.” His name rolls off my tongue easily. Like it was meant to be said from my lips.

“I remembered I have somewhere I need to be. My mom will kill me if I’m late. See you later?” I ask him, blinking tears away as I abruptly get up. “Um, yeah. Tomorrow?” He gets up with me, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, I can’t. Family thing.” I lied. “Oh, maybe the next night? Mylo wants me to go to this party where his crush is djing. I do not want to go.” He laughs, walking me to his front door. My stomach flips, not knowing how to respond. “Maybe, I’ll let you know the day of.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Okay, okay. I don’t mean to cling. I just like spending time with you.” He smiles softly. I avoid eye contact. “Me too, Claggor.” I whisper before pulling him into an embrace. 

He lets out a small yelp of surprise before his hands slowly snake around my waist. “You’re a good friend, [Name].” He mumbles into my shoulder. Tears begin to threaten my eyes once again. “You’re a better one.” I pat his back before letting go. “See you.” I curtly wave before leaving. 

Man, I’m an idiot. 

It’s the day of the party, I haven’t left my bed since I came home after leaving Claggor’s house. My head racing with a million thoughts about how selfish and ridiculous I am. Cringing at all the conversations I’ve had with my friends about the Undercity. How incredibly obnoxious it always sounded. 

How strange I look just being this upset about everything. I wonder if Claggor thought the same about me. How strange it was that a girl was so wrapped up into his struggles. I would never want to tell him that either because I’m overthinking. I know I am. 

He’s my friend. He would tell me if I was being over the top.

Right? 

Right.

Stop it brain. 

A knock at my door echoes in my room. “Yes?” I call out, not bothering to get up. The door creaks open. “[Name] there’s someone here to see you.” A house worker tells me. I sit up, tilting my head confused on who would be here. “Um, tell them I’ll be right down.” I say, climbing out of bed. “Yes, ma’am.”

I grab my robe from my vanity, throwing it on over my pajamas. I slip my feet into my house slippers. I look like a mess but I don't care. It’s probably just a school mate to ask about some homework we have. 

I exit my room, heading down the stairs. I see Claggor and my body freezes in place. Staring down at him. Shit. I look like a mess! And that is not a school mate. 

He was looking around my home before his eyes locked with mine. His face erupts into a smile. “Just wake up or something?” He teases and my face flushes in response. “Uh- yeah, slept in.” I awkwardly chuckle, walking towards him. “How’d you know my address?” I asked him. “Also, why are you here?” 

“Well, first I bumped into one of your friends I met before. She told me you lived here. Second ouch, I can just leave if you want me to.” He points to the front door and I roll my eyes. “Sorry, sorry. I was just wondering, I was gonna come to you.” I cross my arms, and when I do his eyes flicker down to what I’m wearing.

Suddenly I’m extremely aware of how I look. My hair a mess, face puffy, and wearing a fancy robe with slippers. Weird combination. 

“I felt like when you left yesterday it was a bit… off? You seemed like you were about to cry so I thought I’d come here and maybe talk to you about that.” He fidgets with his hands, I observe his demeanor. He seemed extremely anxious. “Oh, I told you I was fine. Might’ve had something in my eye.” I shrug lying straight out of my teeth. 

“You know how I said you are not mysterious like me?” He asks. “Vaguely.” I smile but not understanding why he’s saying that. “It’s because you aren’t a mystery at all. Maybe I’m not either since you seem to know quite a bit about me. Anyways, not the point.” He lets out a heavy breath. “You don’t hide your emotions well. You’re an open book just by looking at you.” He chuckles and I tense up, feeling a little offended. He notices and sighs.

“What I mean is, when I first met you I knew you were a very empathetic person. Your emotions are what drives you to be who you are. I really enjoy that about you. I never thought someone could cry over a bug they killed until I met you.” He laughs at the memory of when we were hanging out one day at the bar and a bug was on the floor by my foot. I stomped on it and immediately felt bad. Thinking about the fact that it could’ve had a family. 

“You care so deeply for people you’ve never met. Wanting them to succeed even if it means you are risking your own happiness to do so.” He says softer than all his other words. “I hope you know that you have never upset me by asking your questions.” His eyes find mine and I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He read me like a book. He practically studied me. I don’t even know how to respond. 

“I know that’s why you got upset. My sister passing away. I don’t mind that you asked. It happened as unfortunate as it is. You didn’t know and you wanted to. Because you care.” He places a hand on my shoulder. I look down at his arm then back to his face. “Please don’t feel bad for caring.” 

My eyes begin to water and I pull him into a hug. “I don’t deserve your friendship.” I mumble into his chest. “I think you do.” He disagrees. 

“I like you, Claggor.” I told him. “Like a lot. I care for you more than anyone else I’ve ever met. I’m scared that I can’t be what you need. I want to be. Everything and more.” I confess, pulling away from him. “Did you know that? Was I not hiding that emotion well either?” I try to uplift the mood. 

“I didn’t have a clue actually.” He grins. “I like you as well. Like a lot. You are everything I need and more. I promise you that.” He pulls me back into his arms, looking down at me as I look up at him. 

He closes the distance between us, his lips landing on mine. It was a short, soft kiss but it was something I never felt before. Shivers sent down my spine. I flutter my eyelids open, both of us smiling ear to ear like giddy little kids. Taking in the moment for a few seconds.

“Does that mean you’re going to join me at this party that I’m soooo excited about?” He sarcastically asks and I giggle in response. “I guess so. I definitely need to clean myself up first though.” I motion to my hot mess of a state that I’m in. “I think you look beautiful in this. Don’t even need to worry about changing.” He jokes and I lightly hit his arm. 

“What a liar.” I fold my arms. “Hm, maybe a little. Want me to come back to pick you up?” 

“You could hang out in my room while I get ready. Maybe choose my outfit?” I propose and his eyes light up. “Yeah, let’s go.” He happily responds. 

[miupow]

CRAVE。⧼ PROLOGUE ⧽ ─── 투모로우바이투게더

stay away from the woods。

★ pairing。txt ot5 x fem!reader‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ fantasy , romance , comedy , angst , eventual smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。descriptions of personal injury and blood ・animal attacks ・mentions of illness and death ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎wc。2. 1 k | to library。

★ includes。。。heeseung from enhypen

notes from lia。finally!! happy thanksgiving everyone, i'm thankful for every single one of my amazing readers!! i hope you enjoy the prologue to my very much anticipated crave series!! look out for the first chapter in the beginning of december!!

all your life, you had been told to never step foot into the woods. that there were monsters lurking just below its dark canopy, hiding just out of sight and patiently waiting to strike. and yet the whistling of the pines has never been this entrancing. the trees taunt you from your safe little cabin, their outstretched branches waving and creaking in the wind as if they were beckoning you closer and closer.

you can see them just as perfectly from the bakery as you can from your bedroom window. they feel inescapable.

the shrill, tinny ringing of a bell snaps your attention away from the open window, your thoughts having consumed you as you laid out fresh loaves of bread to cool in the frosty air. you brush your floury hands off on your apron and turn to welcome your customer, your polite smile growing into a warm grin when you recognize the lanky boy standing by your workbench.

“that’s an awful lot to be doing all on your own.” he comments with a sideways smile, running his fingers through his auburn hair.

“i open the shop by myself every morning, hee.” you reply pointedly, rising to your tip toes to give him a quick hug before brushing past him towards the towering stone oven. “you know mother can’t work this early anymore.”

“couldn’t you ask one of your siblings to help?”

“they’re too young to use the oven or mill the wheat, they’d be no help at all. it’s not even that much work, really, just baking and cleaning. i don’t want to burden them with all of this on top of everything else.”

nothing has been the same since your father fell ill. the bakery was his and your mother’s, a humble way to support their family and their quaint little village for decades. you were never particularly wealthy, but you had enough to get by. consumption, the village doctor had called it. it was a truly fitting word for the disease that slowly consumed your poor, frail father whole. nothing was left, not even the bones. a mere shadow laid in bed all day, a ghost whose coughs have began to sound like rattling chains. none of the medicines the doctor prescribed ever worked, they only seemed to be making him sicker. he said that there was a hospital in the royal city, but your village was days away by carriage, and you and your mother had nowhere near the means to fund the trip. part of you were certain he wouldn’t survive the journey either way.

your mother now spends her days caring for him, an apothecary’s daughter clinging on to the last shreds of hope that her remedies will ward off the hands of death. you desperately wish you could feel the same, but you’ve already begun grieving… until recently.”

“mother said she’d stop by to help this afternoon.” you assert, leaving no more room for discussion. you can feel his eyes on your back, watching you as you stoke the firewood and slide trays of dough into the oven. “you worry about me too much! i’m not a little girl anymore.”

“i worried about you then and i’ll worry about you now.” heeseung chuckles endearingly, erupting a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “you’ve always been a little too brave.”

his words remind you of your mulling thoughts, pulling your gaze back to the window. “heeseung, have you ever known someone who went into the woods?”

heeseung is quiet for a worryingly long time. “the blackwoods? not anyone who made it back… why?”

your mind is screaming at you to keep your mouth shut, but you just can’t keep it all bottled up inside anymore. you’ve never hidden a single thing from your best friend, except this. “i was reading my mothers books the other day.” you admit softly, unable to look him in the eye. “in one of them it said there is a plant that grows in the blackwoods, a type of flower. it can cure any illness, save people from the brink of death…”

“y/n.” heeseung warns, his face dropping. “you’re not seriously considering going in there, are you?”

you hesitate for a second too long— he cuts you off with a scoff, stepping forward to grip your shoulders with his rough carpenter’s hands. “there’s no way that flower is even real, y/n. don’t be childish. just some fairytale out of one of your mother’s quack medicine books.”

“it was my grandfather’s.” you defend softly, finally looking up into heeseung’s eyes— the coldness you find in them frighten you.

“he was a quack too.” heeseung retorts, releasing your shoulders to turn and swiftly slam the bakery window shut. your loaves shake from the force. “there’s no magical flower that is going to save your father, especially not in the blackwoods. i love you, y/n, seriously, but you can’t keep believing in fairytales— and you wonder why i worry about you so much! promise me, you won’t go in those woods. please. one step inside and you’ll never come out. i can’t afford to lose you— your family can’t afford to lose you.”

“okay.” you relent, just loud enough for heeseung to hear. “you’re right, i was being ignorant. i won’t go into the woods.”

“say you promise.”

“i… i promise…”

standing at the edge of the forest, your cold clammy fingers wrapped tightly around the strap of your satchel, you’re caught frozen in place. you just can’t seem to get your feet to step forward, your psyche screaming at you to turn back and run home. heeseung’s words circle your thoughts, so all-consuming that you swear you can hear them in the howling wind— you haven’t told a lie since you were very young, and never to heeseung of all people. the guilt nags at you to the point of nausea.

but you had made up your mind long before you had spoken to heeseung earlier that morning. he’s a simple woodworker, he doesn’t understand a single thing about the healing magic that hides in nature… but your grandfather did. he wrote those books himself, a man who would risk his life in the pursuit of knowledge, just to help others. you wanted nothing more than to continue his legacy, save your father and prove to your close-minded little village that he was anything but the insane, rambling idiot that they all viewed him as. before and after his death. you’ve been preparing for weeks, reading as much as you can about the dangers of the blackwoods, packing whatever you possibly could think of to help you on the journey. you might have overpacked, to be honest, your weathered leather satchel hanging heavy on your shoulder. if everything went as you planned, you would be back home before anyone would notice that you were gone.

your breath fogs in front of your face, reminding you of the hearth smoke billowing from your cabin’s chimney. you can still see it, just beyond the hill, its straw hatch roof just visible over the tall grass waving in the wind. you could turn back now, put all your things away and fall asleep in the safety of your bedroom. you could forget about all of this and wake up tomorrow morning as if you had never planned anything at all.

you will yourself to move your feet, frozen in your boots like the frost on the leaves, and you enter the ominous pitch-black dark of the blackwoods.

the tree canopy is so thick that the moonlight barely breaches it, everything swathed in darkness as you walk farther and farther away from home. the flickering candle in your lantern does little to illuminate much except what was right in front of you. you focus on what you can see, the dead fallen leaves and frosty underbrush that crunch loudly underneath your feet as you venture deeper. it’s deafening in your ears, the forest eerily silent all around you, not even the distant call of an owl, the scattering of a chipmunk— you’re certain that any creatures hiding in the trees or in the brush knew of your presence.

including the monsters.

in none of the books you read would they ever describe them more than just that; monsters that use the night as camouflage, that kill livestock in their pens and steal children from their beds. any intruder in their own territory will certainly be made short work out of. you’ve always believed that they were nothing but scary stories to keep children well behaved, a tall tale your mother would use to get you to come inside for bed.

distantly, cutting sharply through the silence, you hear the howling of a wolf. it sounded a safe distance away, yet it still sent you jumping. the sudden movement causes your lantern to extinguish, plummeting you into complete and total darkness. your heart dropping, you curse, placing it on the forest floor against a mossy tree before opening the flap of your satchel and rummaging blindly through the contents for your matchbox. you try to steady your breathing, heart rattling against your ribcage, matchbox just beyond your grasp as you struggle in the dark.

you hear the rustling of leaves just to your right. desperately, you tell yourself that you’re just hearing things.

finally, you wrap your fingers around the familiar shape of your matchbox, pulling it out to fumble with its contents before you pick back up your lantern. with a strike of the match against the rough bark of the tree, you’re illuminated once again, carefully lighting the candle before putting out the match with a shake of your hand. triumphantly, you turn to continue to venture farther into the woods, before stopping cold. your breath knocks out of you all at once, leaving you gasping in the cold air.

farther up on the oak tree, carved crudely into the bark, are three sharp claw marks you’re almost certain weren’t there before.

but they had to have been, because there was simply no way that something could have snuck up so close to you without you noticing. these woods were driving you mad, you feared, still trying to steady your breathing as you turn and step forward.

as you continue deeper into the forest, you swear you hear another pair of footsteps following your own. you stop abruptly to catch them, but you hear nothing— another thing you must be imagining… yet you set onward a little faster than before.

maybe it was that wolf you had heard, you entertained as you examine the dark twisted trees. it sounded rather far away, but you couldn’t be one to discount the creature’s speed. maybe it was just watching you to make sure you weren’t a threat, and it would leave you shortly…

a growl, deep and barely audible, rumbles from between the bushes. you break out into a wild sprint, gasping and panting, running deep into the unknown. the creature chases you with frightening speed, no longer trying to hide its footsteps as it weaves through the forest floor. you had no idea where you were or where you were going, but this beast… this was his home. the hunt was on.

low hanging branches scratch and tear at your skin and clothing as you run, blood running down your face, legs and arms— you couldn’t feel the pain, the adrenaline numbing everything except for the terror in your heart. now you were just easier to track, you agonized, but you couldn’t do anything but keep running, dropping your satchel and lantern to lighten your load as much as you could. alas, you barely ran any faster… you were starting to slow down, exhaustion was starting to creep up on you, your chest aching and desperate for breath, your legs screaming in pain as you stumble and stagger through the labyrinth of trees. you couldn’t see a single thing in front of you, completely lost in the darkness, your arms outstretched to feel around as you ran.

the creature was advancing, it’s footsteps thunderous right behind you, its snarls and growls growing closer and closer. in a desperate attempt to escape, you sharply turn to the right to run in a different direction.

just as you move to step forward, your boot wedges itself underneath an exposed tree root, and you are sent tumbling to the mossy ground. you try to break your fall with your hands, but you react far too late— you slam your head against a jagged rock, blinding white light flashing behind your eyelids before your world goes black.

the last thing you feel is pain, and the last thing you see are two bright, bloody red eyes staring at you through the darkness.

[gamercookies]

Giving thanks for..

Genre: smut, enemies to lovers.

Word count:2.8k+

Warnings: rough!ni-ki, shy!y/n, fingering “under the table”, worshipping, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, praising, throat-fucking, hate-fuck.  Note: I love making these stories idk why but they peak my interest so much!! I know it’s not thanksgiving yet but imma be busy on those days I’m off, but plz enjoy :3 and take care of urself 💕🙏🏼

You’ve been enemies for a really long time. Ni-ki, which you couldn't stand him, had been teasing and humiliating you throughout school. But then, out of the blue, he invited you to his family's Thanksgiving dinner. Sure, there would be the usual “I‘m grateful for…” moments, so you figured nothing too surprising would unfold, right?

Today you were just chilling at home alone while your parents were at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving dinner, you felt bored, alone. Of course you didn’t want to go because you didn’t feel like it. But once you finished an hour call with them, you stared up at the ceiling from the bed. 

You sigh in boredom, sitting back up from the bed. “What am I gonna do, I’m all alone.. I guess I can make dinner for myself and watch some Netflix or something.” Suddenly you receive a notification from your phone, you assume “oh! Maybe my parents sent a picture of themselves!” You check but your excited expression turns into shock and confusion.. it says: “Hey y/n, sorry to annoy you as always lol 😂, but anyways I was wondering if you’re interested in coming over to my house for thanksgiving I have no one to enjoy besides my parents.” 

“What?! Ni-ki.. he seriously invited you to his thanksgiving dinner, seriously?” You tell yourself blankly staring at the message for minutes. You roll your eyes and reply: 

“Fine. 😒Only because I also have nothing to do, fine I’ll come over. What time?” 

He types back: “Around 6PM, it will just be a normal thanksgiving, nothing out of the ordinary. 😊” 

… 

It’s 6PM and you’ve just arrived in front of his home, and you ring the doorbell. You stand there waiting for him or someone to open. You know you look stunning in that red dress, which perfectly highlights your curves without being overly short. Then Niki opens the door, “Hey y/n, come on in, I’ll introduce you to my parents.” As he gestured you to walk in. “Thank you.” You say, as he shuts the front door leading you to the dining table. You see a neatly organized dinning table, with a candle in the middle.  

Ni-ki clears this throat and speaks, “Mom, dad. This is y/n, a “friend” of mine I invited, I hope you guys don’t mind her.” His mom replies, “N-no we don’t mind! Hello, y/n. Please I don’t mind you inviting her over, please sit down and join us for dinner today.” You look at his mother and smile politely, as you take your seat. “Hello, Mrs. It’s nice to meet you, it’s kind enough of your son to invite me over, since my parents are at their hometown enjoying thanksgiving.” His father speaks behalf, “Oh no worries! That’s very nice of our son to do that, inviting someone like you over, you seem a very well polite girl so there’s no harm in that.” Ni-ki then sits down next to you, “Yeah, I felt like that’s a nice thing to do behalf that it’s thanksgiving, we should be kind to each other, right y/n?” As he says that sarcastically. 

You feel a bit nervous about meeting his parents, but you manage to smile and nod. “Of course, it's a good thing to invite friends over." You say softly, trying not to show how anxious you really feel. To pass the time waiting for the dinner his parents and especially you talk about how you’ve been, your parents, mostly about your life. But then his father asks, “Do you have a boyfriend yet, young lady?” 

You blush slightly, feeling a little embarrassed by the question. "Well, I haven't found anyone who really catches my interest yet," you admit shyly.

"Maybe one day soon though!" You add quickly, hoping to change the subject before things get too awkward. 

But it gets interrupted as soon as the food arrives. You smell all of the delicious aromas wafting from the dishes. "Wow... everything looks amazing!" You exclaim enthusiastically, trying to cover up your earlier blunder. “Who’s cutting the turkey today?” 

Niki looks around, his parents and you seem to be waiting for someone to cut into the turkey. He takes a deep breath and stands up. "I'll do it," he announces confidently. "After all, it's Thanksgiving.” With that said, he walks over to where the turkey is sitting and grabs a knife. He gives it one swift stroke, carving off a piece of meat before placing it onto a plate. You can’t help but deny the way he looks in that suit, the way he picks up that knife, it’s like you wanna touch him.

But you then take a bite of some turkey and gravy - it's even better than it smells! As you all savor the meal throughout the evening, saying what you’re grateful for, besides Niki.. and of course, remembering to keep dinner etiquette in mind, everything was smooth. But soon enough you feel ni-ki leaning against you, his hot breath in your ear. “You look damn good in this dress.. I can’t help but notice it so much.” You blush deeply at his compliment, your heart pounding in your chest. You're not used to receiving compliments like this, especially not from someone as attractive as him. “T-thanks.. I mean I have to look presentable to your parents..” After you finish your food, you place your fork down gently and lean back in your chair. You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Was the food good, sweetie? I made it this morning.” His mother smiles softly at you. 

Before you could respond, you feel a hand sliding up and down your thigh making you gasp quietly. “What the..” you mutter to yourself, as Ni-ki continues doing that under the table. You try to play it cool despite losing focus on the conversation. 

"O-oh, your food was amazing!", you respond sincerely, doing your best to ignore Ni-ki’s wandering hand. "I've never had such delicious mashed potatoes before..." He then leans over you and whispers with a small smirk, “I didn’t invite you just for a normal thanksgiving, I also wanted something else.. to tease and make you feel humiliated in front of my parents.” But then, Ni-ki’s mother speaks trying to get your attention, “Sweetie? You okay..? I was asking you where do you plan to go for vacation next month with your parents?” Ni-ki then slides your panties aside and inserts 2 fingers inside you without warning.

“O-oh! I was thinking maybe Thailand-ah!” You say making you blush in embarrassment, “Sorry about that.. it’s just something accidentally hit me. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, doing your best to keep a neutral expression. 

“Thailand sounds lovely! It’s a wonderful place to travel.. when I was young..” she continues talking while you continue trying to hold your moans infront of them two. “Ni-ki.. stop that.. it’s embarrassing..” you whisper to him. “Come on~ your pussy deserves my fingers in you now, you make me crave you so much in that dress.” He says in a low, sultry voice. 

His mother notices the blush on your face and the discomfort in your voice, but assumes it's due to the heat of the room or perhaps nervousness from being in new surroundings.

"Oh dear, I apologize if we're making you uncomfortable. We just love sharing stories about our travels!", she says reassuringly. 

“N-no Mrs.. it’s not your fault it’s just it’s a bit hot right now.”, as you manage to choke out between stifled moans. Ni-Ki’s father then speaks, “We’ll clean up the mess, why don’t you show her your room.” 

Ni-Ki inserts a third finger, making you moan quietly. “Yes of course father, I’ll kindly show her my room.” And with that both of his parents head to the kitchen with the dirty plates, and utensils. You finally pull his hand away from your pussy, “What was that for Ni-ki!? You can’t just do that while I’m talking to them.. that’s embarrassing. I nearly came all over your hand.”  He winks, “Oh really? because I really wanted that pussy of yours.. I couldn’t resist.” “Now come on, let’s head to my room, shall we~?” He takes your hand to make you stand up so you can follow Ni-ki upstairs to his room. Once the door is closed behind you, he pins you against it.

"You know," he murmurs seductively, "Your little moans were music to my ears..." Before you can respond, he silences you with a passionate kiss. His tongue explores your mouth while his hands roam freely over your body. “I should worship your pussy.. eating you out, making you moan..~” 

You quickly responded blushing deep red. “N-no that’s a bad idea.. especially right now..” Hearing your protests, Ni-ki pulls away with a playful grin. "What's the fun in all this if we don't take risks?" He teases, pressing himself closer against you. “No im going home, I’m not doing your kinky ideas with you.”  Ni-ki seeing you attempt to leave, grabs your wrist tightly. "Running away so soon?" He chuckles darkly, pulling you back towards him. Without warning, he kisses you passionately once more. His other hand reaches down to cup your breast roughly through the fabric of your dress. 

“Mmph! F-fine I want it! But this is a one-time thing, we are still enemies.” You stumble to say, as he releases your wrist and moves to unzip your dress hastily. "Just remember..." he whispers into your ear, "This doesn't change anything between us..." And with that, he pushes you onto his bed and begins undressing you fully, and he kneels in front of you. “Let me worship your pussy.. I can tell it’s already wet from my fingers, naughty girl..” 

"F-fine! Go ahead," you finally relent, biting your lip nervously. “But only this once."  His tongue laps at your clit with expert precision, causing waves of pleasure to ripple through your body.

"Mmm...so tasty..." he murmurs against you before continuing his relentless assault on your sensitive nub. “Ah~! Fuck.. k-keep going..” you moan but you quickly cover your mouth making sure no one hears you. Ni-ki increases the pressure of his tongue on your clit. His hands grip your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devours you and makes your legs tremble, "Oh God...I'm close!", you gasp out, writhing beneath him. Noticing your impending climax, Ni-ki slows his pace slightly, prolonging your torture. He looks up at you with a devilish grin.

"Not so fast, sweetheart..." he purrs, "I haven't finished yet." You whine desperately, “N-no please I’m close! I need to cum..”

"Oh, is that so?" he teases, trailing his tongue along your inner thigh. "That's the point isn't it?" he teases again, "To feel pleasure so intense that you can barely stand it?" “N-Niki!" you cry out, clenching the sheets beneath. "Please...don't tease me like this! I really need to cum.. come on.” Niki chuckles darkly, his eyes filled with mischief as he watches you squirm underneath him. He knew how to push your buttons, knew exactly what to say and do to get a rise out of you. “What's wrong, sweetness?" he purrs mockingly, "Can't handle a little teasing?" You whine again and looks at him with pleading eyes, “No! I mean yes! Just shut up and let me cum! You asshole! Please.. I need to cum so badly..!”

Niki laughs, his hot breath tickling your skin as he leans in closer. 

He takes a moment to savor the desperation lacing your words. "Fine," he concedes, sliding a finger inside of you. "But only because I want to see those pretty eyes roll back into your head." “Yes please..! I’m gonna.. fuck! Gonna..”, You quickly grab a pillow to cover your moans as you cum onto his face. Niki licks up every last drop of your sweet release, savoring the taste of you on his tongue. He pulls back slowly, standing up to look down at you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, I might just fuck you right now while we at it, how about you ride me?” 

"No way I’m not riding you! You’re an asshole!” As you stand up from his bed. “Plus your parents are washing dishes, we can’t just do that..they might hear us!” He smirks pushing you back onto the bed, “Oh come on.. we could make some noise, who cares about them..” He tries to persuade you. “You might like it when you’re handcuffed, I have them.” 

You roll your eyes and scoff at him, “Ugh.. whatever I’ll ride you while I’m handcuffed…” “Really?” Niki asks surprised, “Well alright then.” He goes to his drawer and takes out a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.” “Alright.”, you say as you hold out your wrists for him to cuff you. Once he locks them, he smirks, “Fuck, you look sexy like this, handcuffed.. I can easily do anything to you.” He reaches down and unzips his pants, freeing his thick member. It throbs slightly as it bobs free from its confines.  "Here," he says, offering you his shaft. "Why don't you start by sucking on this?"

“Alright, I’ll please you..” You say as you lean down taking his cock in your mouth. You bob your head slowly licking his tip before sliding down further, taking half of his dick in your mouth. Without warning, he thrusts deeper into your mouth. His cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him. “Mmph!~Too big and deep.!” You manage to say while he doesn't stop though; instead, he continues to fuck your face ruthlessly.

You tease him back by saying, “I’ll pull my mouth out-” “No you won’t,” he says. “Or else I will kick you outta of my house and make sure you never return.” Then he forces his way inside your mouth again, his member hitting the back of your throat, forcing another round of gags from you. As he keeps fucking your throat, you slap his leg hard, trying to signal him to stop. Ignoring your weak attempt to resist, Niki continues to thrust into your mouth. He can feel the familiar tingling at the base of his spine, signaling his imminent release.

"That's it..." he groans, "I'm gonna cum..."

Before long, he explodes inside your mouth. His hot seed fills your mouth and spills onto your chin as he rides out his orgasm.  "There..." he pants, "That wasn't so bad was it? Now why don't you get those pretty legs of yours moving and ride me like a good girl." “O-okay..” You stutter out as you position yourself to sit on his cock despite being handcuffed. With a single thrust, he buries himself deep within you. 

"Fuck..." he groans, "So tight..." As he begins to move beneath you, bucking his hips upwards to meet each of your downward thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as they make love roughy. "Ride me baby," he growls, "Show me how much of an asshole you think I am." “Fuck.. you..! Ah~!” , you moan out quietly. “J-just don’t thrust up more..” “Oh, is that what you want?" He teases, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep things gentle for you." Despite his promise, he continues to thrust up into you ruthlessly. His large member filling you over and over again until both of you are panting heavily. "You like that?" he growls quietly, "You like being fucked by an asshole like me?" 

“I hate you so much! Ahh~” you continue to moan out as you start to ride him faster, grinding your clit against him as you ride him. Niki groans deeply as you grind against him, his hands gripping your hips tightly. He can feel the heat building up within him again.

"Fucking hell..." he mutters, "You're such a naughty girl..." With one final thrust, he buries himself deep inside of you. His hot seed spurts inside of you as he releases inside of you. “Fuck.. I’m cumming too..!” Niki grunts as he feels you tighten around him, your own climax rippling through your body. He can feel every spasm and twitch of your pussy as you cum. "Good girl," he murmurs, "That was quite the show." As he uncuff and removes the handcuffs from your wrists, “There.. am I still an asshole to you, y/n? Despite panting you responded, “n-no.. you were good, I give you that. I guess we aren’t really enemies anymore.” 

Suddenly you both hear a knock, his father was yelling from the door while Ni-ki’s mother was standing next to him, “Ni-ki, y/n, Are you okay? I hear some noise and wanted to make sure you guys were okay!” 

Niki sighs as he hears his parent's voices, realizing that they've been too loud. He quickly pulls up his pants and straightens out his shirt. "Yeah dad, we're fine," he calls out, "Just having a little fun." He looks at you with a smirk, "Guess we better clean up real quick."

You smirk and laugh at him, “I told you this could’ve happened.” He laughs softly, "Yeah, you did." Niki gives you a playful wink, "Maybe next time we should try to be quieter especially you, y/n." As he listens to his parent's footsteps fade away, he relaxes again. Turning back to you, he grins mischievously. “One last thing.., I’m grateful today for eating your pussy, y/n.” 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

interaction with mama or papa leech (or both) please!

yuu was walking down the hallway along with jade and floyd, exchanging stories of recent happenings before it was interrupted by the sound of someone calling out to them.

"jade! floyd!"

by the looks of the twins' excited expressions and the occasion of family day, they connected the dots that it must be their parents and swiftly hid behind one of the brothers before the person came into view, trying to remove their own presence. although jade had clarified that they had a normal family business, they can't help but get nervous and perhaps a bit frightened, especially with how the leech's definition of "normal" is quite... questionable. maybe if they're lucky, they can make a run for it before they start to take notice...

(i hope i did this right!)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Mother and father.”

“Mom!! Pops!!”

You hesitantly peered out from behind the twins. Two lanky figures towered over you, as imposing as skyscrapers.

Mr. Leech was stone-faced, skin slightly grooved like a rock carved by the crashing waves, teal hair streaked with black slicked back with gel. His eyes were like beacons of light searching in the night--sharp, discerning. He wore a smart pinstriped suit, polished shoes, and gloves, reminding you of an older Jade.

Mrs. Leech's lithe form was wrapped in an off-the-shoulder sun dress, the slit of it riding halfway up her thigh, skirt spilling into a waterfall of gathered tulle. A string of creamy pearls--simple, understated--drapes across her collar. Her wide brim hat shaded her face, but you could still admire how she had expertly painted her lips and eyes, how her hair fell in a loose wave over one shoulder. She was like Floyd, mixing an impeccable fashion sense with a slight hint of danger.

When Mrs. Leech spotted her sons, she charged at them at a speed that was shocking for a woman in high heels. She threw her arms around Jade and Floyd, pulling them in for a tight hug.

"My babies!! I've missed you so much, darlings," she gushed. "How are classes? How are clubs? You must tell me everything...!"

“It’s wonderful to see you as well. We have much to catch up on.”

“Ehehehe~ Mom? you’re squeezin’ me so hard! Watch out, cuz I’ll get’cha back!!”

Mr. Leech cleared his throat. "Pardon the interruption, but..." His eyes cut to you—no longer concealed by the twins—and you froze, pinned in place by his stern gaze. “It seems we have a stranger in our midst. Jade and Floyd's... friendly acquaintance, I presume."

Mrs. Leech released her children. “Just a moment, dear!!”

The giantess appeared before you, her shadow larger than life. You managed a single shaky step backwards before her claw-like nails dug into you.

“Ah, mom went right to work,” Floyd said in a singsong.

“Do stay still,” Jade advised you. “It will make the process go by much more quickly.”

J-Just what is going to happen to me?!

Mrs. Leech’s hands ran the length of your body and its crevices. She never lingered in one spot. Pat, pat, pat, then onto the next area.

A full body pat-down?!

“All clear,” Mrs. Leech called to her husband.

“Excellent. That is a relief." Mr. Leech adjusted his tie and offered a wane smile. "Excuse us. We're in the habit of running through a series of safety protocols before receiving guests. Unfortunately, it's terribly inefficient to carry out in a public setting." He paused. "... How do you feel about signing nondisclosure agreements?"

"N-Nondisclosure agreements?!"

"Honey, you're going to terrify the poor thing," Mrs. Leech tutted--but she was giggling faintly as though she had just heard a witty joke. "Don't worry. My husband can be a very gentle man."

D-Don't that imply he also has the capacity to be very ungentle?!

"E-Erm..." You worriedly glanced at the twins, who were smirking (but, you had noticed, not actually intervening).

"What does your family do, anyway?" you once asked Jade.

He had taped a finger to his lips and mysteriously answered, "They simply run an independent business that dabbles in a bit of everything. Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you."

"Some help here, guys?" you whimpered.

"Sorry, not much we can do," Floyd responded with a (very unhelpful) shrug. "Dad's got his stuffy processes. No one can get in the way of those."

"I-I'm not going to be roped into making as blood pact, am I?!"

"Blood pact? My, what an active imagination you have." Jade chuckled. "I believe I have informed you before that our family business is nothing out of the ordinary."

"Frankly, I'm not sure I believe you anymore!"

"Oh my~ Did you hear that, dear?" Mrs. Leech grabbed her husband by the arm. "It sounds as though Jade and Floyd's friend doesn't trust us."

"Indeed." He was smiling, but it did not fully reach his eyes. "It would be a shame if we allowed them to walk away with the wrong impression of our happy little family."

"Fufufu... We'll have to correct that, won't we?"

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

here is part 5! it's not a long as the others, but hopefully this will tide you over till the dinner scene!

(as i said in prev post that won't be posted till latest sunday/monday)

the post/thread that started this whole au

dinner scene: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

there's a masterlist now!

*the next morning*

*in telemachus’ room*

telemachus: *having got up early due to his excitement for later tonight*

telemachus: *looking down at something on his table* i hope he likes this, i can’t believe i spotted it in the market!

athena: *from behind telemachus* who likes what?

athena: *trying to peer over telemachus to see what he’s looking at* what do you have there, little wolf?

telemachus: *jumps in shock, not expecting athena to be there*

telemachus: *quickly wraps something in a silk cloth*

telemachus: *turns to face her* athena!- oh this? it’s a gift!

athena: *owl-like wide eyes and head tilted* a gift? for who?

telemachus: *scratches the back of head with nervous laughter*

telemachus: w-well after you left yesterday, i decided to head to the palace library to look up some more information on the gods

telemachus: i know i said it was other people’s words… but i still wanted to know a little more about lord poseidon, before we met again.

athena: oh-

telemachus: -and! and then i headed down to the market, and i spotted something i thought… i thought he might like it.

telemachus: *looks down at his feet* i know he’s a powerful god and a gift seems like a silly idea… but he’s also fathers’ friend so i just thought-

athena: *smiling and putting her hand under telemachus’ chin to lift it up*

athena: telemachus, you don’t have to be nervous or explain it all to me

athena: my uncle may be very powerful, but i’m sure he’ll appreciate you getting him something.

athena: *internally to herself* and if he doesn’t, i’m positive one look from odysseus will change his mind

athena: *ruffles telemachus’ hair* so there! no need to worry!

telemachus: *smiles*

athena: *putting her hand down and looking back over telemachus’ shoulder*

athena: so, what did you get him?

telemachus: oh! here let me show you!

telemachus: *turns around and moves to the side so athena can come next to him*

telemachus: *moves the silk cloth*

telemachus: what do you think?

athena: *realises what it is* i think… i honestly think he’ll love it

telemachus: *looks at her and smiles again*

*telemachus wraps the item back in the silk cloth and both him athena leave his room*

telemachus: how come you’re here so early anyway?

telemachus: not that i mind! but dinner isn’t till this evening?

athena: what just because its family dinner tonight, i can’t have family breakfast?

telemachus: *laughs*

telemachus: i wonder if mother and father are up yet…

athena: if they’re not, please let me wake your father up

telemachus: um sure? how come though?

athena: *thinks back to when she did early morning training with odysseus*

athena: *remembers the horror on odysseus’ face every time she ‘woke’ him & dragged him out of bed*

athena: oh no reason really

*both head to odysseus’ and penelope’s room*

[sloanesallow]

Mama's Potatoes

Sebastian doesn't know how to cook. Good thing the Niffler does. Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (Siobhan Sloane) Tags: Domestic life, Peter the Niffler, pregnancy, potatoes. 1.8k words A/N: I wrote this while grieving the loss of my cat, Peter. Sloane's Niffler has always been named after him, so this was just another way for me to honor him. Thank you for reading. He loved potatoes, too. [Ao3] | [Wattpad] | [Tumblr Masterlist]

Sebastian doesn't know what he's doing.

It's a rare feeling. He's not stupid—he wouldn't be the youngest curse-breaker at the Ministry if he were—and usually knows how to handle a daunting situation. Crazed Inferi, dangerous artifacts, unusual hexes, you name it. But this...this is a new level of difficulty.

He's been standing in the kitchen since sunrise, flipping through old cookbooks and Sloane's recipe journals, looking for something—anything—within his skillset. Despite his wife's numerous demonstrations and seemingly limitless patience, he has never quite gotten the hang of cooking. If his father-in-law were there, he'd scold Sebastian. What self-respecting man can't cook for his pregnant, bedridden wife?

He hates this, hates that he isn't good at something so simple.

It should, in theory, be akin to potions, which he excels at. But alchemy isn't the same as cuisine—you can't just throw everything in a pot and hope for the best—not if you want it to taste good. Cooking is science, not magic, regardless of how easy Sloane makes it look. Maybe that's why she's so good at it, because she insists on doing it without spells. She's a natural, and Sebastian...

Well, it's a good thing he provides in other ways.

With the birth of their child imminent, however, she's resigned to the bed, on strict orders from the nurses at St. Mungos to keep off her feet. This leaves Sebastian in charge of the meals, which he knows are lackluster, even if Sloane never complains. If they were still in London, he'd pop out and grab something from the local shops, or hire one of the house elves in their old building as a cook. But they moved to the countryside in preparation for Little Sallow's arrival, settling down where he'll need to be self-sufficient.

What he wants is to prepare something hearty and healthy, something warm to lift her spirits before the baby comes. Sebastian allows himself five more minutes of wallowing in self-pity before opening another worn journal, hoping he'll see something he's helped Sloane make before. These recipes aren't in her familiar script, but he quickly finds something promising—Beef Stew.

Except...half the instructions are in Irish.

Sebastian grumbles to himself—just another thing he hasn't mastered. He's learned a few languages in his lifetime, largely due to the thirst for knowledge and travel associated with his work, but Irish isn't one of them. And while his wife is of Irish descent, she speaks it so infrequently that he never caught on.

"This must be her mum's," he says aloud, discouraged. He continues to read over the old parchment and the idea of surprising Sloane with one of her mother's recipes is too enticing to shake.

Sebastian is nothing if not ambitious.

The best-case scenario is that he manages to cook a delicious meal. Worst case, he blows up their kitchen. It wouldn't be the first time.

Emboldened, he gets to work, rolling up his sleeves and clearing off the counter so he has space to prep. Instructions in hand, he grabs everything he needs—or thinks he needs—pots and pans and cutlery, and lights the stove with the flick of his wand. Before he can do anything else, it is yanked out of his hand and he whirls around to find Peter, Sloane's beloved Niffler, already stashing the wand away in his pouch.

"Merp!"

"Hey!" Sebastian shouts before clenching his jaw, glancing toward the hallway that leads to where Sloane is still sleeping. He looks back at Peter in annoyance. The two tolerate each other, but mostly bicker about who Sloane loves more. "Give that back, Peter. I need it—"

"Merp!" he interrupts, batting Sebastian's hand away when he tries to touch his fur.

Sebastian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't have time for this."

Peter makes a series of noises that sound very much like the Niffler is mocking him as he stares at the tattered journal in Sebastian's hands.

"What?" he sarcastically laughs. "Are you going to help me?"

For a Niffler, Peter is incredibly expressive, furrowing his brow and blinking his beady little eyes. "Merp."

Sebastian can't believe he's about to have a Niffler be his sous-chef. "Fine."

"It's beef stew, at least I hope it is," he continues, reading over the recipe again. "Sloane must have it memorized because I've never seen her use this."

Peter chitters.

"Right," he mumbles, moving to the cold box where they keep their perishables. "At least this is in English. Two pounds of roast, cut into small cubes."

Sebastian places the parchment-wrapped meat on the counter before scratching at his chin. "One point of...what is...prátaí?" He frowns, reluctantly looking at Peter for guidance.

The Niffler huffs and carefully scales down the side of the counter before scurrying toward the garden door. He pushed through the little flap Sloane installed, poking his head back in a moment later to glare.

"MERP!"

Sebastian follows after the little beast until they are in the middle of Sloane's vegetable garden. There's a little bit of everything, and even though they have the space (and magic) to grow whatever her heart desires, she's kept a modest size. Peter digs at the soft soil, right beneath a small plot marker that reads Mama's Potatoes.

"Oh," Sebastian hums, feeling dumber than before. He grabs a nearby basket before crouching down to take the unearthed potatoes from Peter. "Since when do you know Irish?"

"Merp," Peter answers, as if to say 'I'm smarter than you, Sallow'.

The Niffler continues to roam the garden, bringing Sebastian the vegetables and herbs he needs for the meal. When the basket is full, the two head back inside where Peter monitors the prep work with an intimidating aura that rivals Papa Sloane.

Sebastian follows the instructions the best he can, relying on memory and Peter's so-called translations. He tenses every time routinely grabs his wrist to correct his movements, wondering if he should hand over the knife to let Peter cut the vegetables but figures. Then again, the last thing he needs right now is a knife-wielding Niffler.

He cooks the meat in a hot skillet until the cut pieces are lightly browned, before moving on to the vegetables—sauteing the diced onion, garlic, rosemary, and bay leaves until they are soft. Peter pushes over the bottle of red wine, and Sebastian carefully pours the liquid into the pan, stirring until Peter gestures to add the beef broth. Once everything is combined, he adds back in the meat and secures the lid before placing it into the hot oven.

"Should be ready in..." he reads over Mama Sloane's instructions.

"Merp," Peter chirps, tapping the counter three times.

"Three hours," Sebastian nods.

He takes some time to tidy up and quietly sneaks down the hall to see his wife still fast asleep. Too nervous to leave the food unattended again, he makes himself comfortable on the floor in front of the oven and starts counting the minutes as they pass by. Peter joins him for a little while but eventually disappears, only returning when it's time to add in the rest of the vegetables.

An hour later, Sebastian holds his breath, protective mitts trembling as he pulls the steaming pot from the oven. He prays to Merlin, and maybe a few other deities, before slowly lifting the lid to inspect the final product. Peter climbs back onto the counter to peer inside, his bill opening slightly as he sniffs the air.

"Want some?" Sebastian quips, scooping a hefty portion into a bowl.

Peter shakes his tiny head. "Merp."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Sebastian mutters, taking a bite for himself. It's not bad, though he isn't sure if that means it's good, either. It certainly tastes just about the same as when Sloane makes it, but doubt swirls in his mind. "I hope she likes it."

If he hoped for some semblance of encouragement from Peter, he doesn't receive it. Instead, the Niffler huffs and leaps from the counter before scampering away. Sebastian reminds himself to find the little troublemaker later so he can get his wand back. Good thing Peter can't perform magic—right?

Sebastian places the bowl onto a tray, along with a spoon and a cloth napkin. He tears off some bread from the loaf he (barely managed) to bake the day before and runs back out to the garden to pluck a few flowers for good measure. After steadying his nerves the best he can, he ventures back down the hall to the bedroom.

Sloane is awake now, reclining in their bed, eyes closed as she smooths her hands across her rounded belly. She glances up as Sebastian crosses the threshold, surprise lighting up her expression when she spots the tray in his hands.

"You cooked?" she asks, struggling to sit up. Sebastian quickly sets the food down on the nightstand so he can help her, softly laughing at the way she's too focused on the steam rising from the bowl to cooperate. She sniffs the air. "Is that...my mother's stew?"

He falters when he notices the shine of tears in her eyes, making sure she's comfortably leaning against the pile of pillows. Her emotions have been heightened, to put it mildly, throughout the pregnancy, but he still didn't anticipate tears.

"Hey, hey," he coos, brushing back her hair and swiping his thumbs across her cheeks. "It's alright, sweetheart. I just wanted to make sure you don't starve."

"Well I am starving," she whines and he holds back his amusement, kissing away her pout.

"Here," he says, making sure Sloane has a good handle on the bowl before leaning back. "I uhh...hope it turned out right."

Sloane takes a moment to take in the aromas, smiling at him with glossy eyes as she stirs the bowl. "Thank you."

Sebastian can't respond, not when he's still terrified that he's done something wrong. He watches her, unblinking, as she finally takes a taste. As soon as the spoon is in her mouth, her eyes go wide and she goes still. He panics, leaning forward to grasp her shoulders and tug the spoon from her hand and mouth.

"Sloane? What is it—oh fuck—" he curses, heart racing, clumsily placing the food back on the tray before fussing over her again. "Did I poison you? Are you dying?"

Sloane snaps out of the trance to shake her head, her mouth twitching into a shaky smile. She grabs one of Sebastian's hands and presses it to her enlarged abdomen. His chest tightens for a completely different reason when she finally speaks.

"I think the baby's coming."

Reblogs, comments and likes are appreciated. 💛

[dangermousie]

I am MTL reading the novel and oh good lord I hope they keep this scene!

They are at a meal with his toad parents and his dad is all "why aren't you knocked up yet?" and "you look stupid you will look great on my campaign" etc etc and she's despairing and all nobody is ever gonna rescue me but then:

The throat seemed to be blocked, and a long-lost feeling of suffocation came over her. Sure enough, this world is not a friendly place that will save other people's lives. Only by relying on yourself can you save yourself. She closed her eyes, exhaled slowly, and gradually strengthened her determination. "I will inform you of the national tour schedule. You may have to stay in the car for a long time. If you plan to get pregnant, try to avoid my campaign period. Campaigns are not ordinary high-intensity labor…" Just then, the chair made a harsh dragging sound. The mother-in-law frowned immediately. Turning her head, she saw Bai Siyan standing up. "Child, you haven't eaten yet, why are you up?" "I'm leaving." "What?" "Something happened." Xizhu also looked at him with wide eyes. "Since my father treats me as a stud, there is no need for me to show any etiquette." "What, what?" "How can a stud have time to eat? It's not enough to be busy with that." "……!" The red-faced mother-in-law slammed the table. "Bai Siyan!" At the same time, Hee Joo's body shook. Bai Siyan pulled her chair away with force. She was curled up in a ball and left the table all of a sudden. "Get up." Hee Joo looked at him in panic. "Not getting up?" She stood there in a daze, and her expression like a dead fish made Bai Siyan frown. Finally, the man grabbed Hee Joo's arm and forcibly pulled her up. Until then, Hee Joo was still at a loss. "Hee Joo, don't sit in your father's truck." "What?" "You have to stand by my side, not by his side." 21. Bai Siyan is a person who is extremely indifferent to everything except himself. Even when signing the marriage contract, and even in countless activities, he never took the initiative to care about Hee Joo. Even when he was engaged to Sister In-ya, he was an indifferent person who only cared about drinking water. "My wife has her own voice that needs to be translated." He grabbed Hee Joo's hand with a gloomy face. "If you want to run for president, you should at least understand the social atmosphere before speaking." "What?" "If I were your advisor, I would have told you to shut up long ago." "You…!" "If you don't have an outspoken assistant, you are wasting money now." "…" "Then, the stud will do what the stud should do now." Hee-joo was pulled by him and almost dragged away. This was the first time she left the seat before her parents-in-law after getting married.

[heartfullofleeches]

What are Remmy/Sammy/Liu/Carnis/Clem/Aspen/Blacksmith doing for thanksgiving?

Also happy thanksgiving! I hope you’re feeling better and in less pain!

Remmy:

Prior to the date, he's insisting to his folks they don't need to drop by for a visit. They're both so busy with their own lives, and there's a certain someone he'd like to spend at least one Thanksgiving alone with to enjoy that quiet, domestic bliss before his family bombards them with a million questions about their future together.

"My parents couldn't come out this year... You wanna maybe stop by? I'll prepare something just for the two of us and if things feels a little lonely we can set the table with family.. Other family, I mean. The dolls... Does that sound too silly?"

Sammy:

Would sooner hole himself up for another sleepless night in the funeral home than spend the holiday with his family, but they always managed to wear him down- Possibly due to the venue being closed, but who's to say. He might be able to skip this years festivities if he has already made plans with someone else. His father would still be the grumpy hard ass he is, but any signs of wedding bells in the future and his mother will send him in your direction with a pie in hand.

Liu:

On holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving, Liu celebrates by donating their time to local food kitchens. They have nobody else to spend the day with before meeting their darling, and if they're completely alone on those days it puts them in a bad headspace. Giving back and helping out their community is another thing that grounds Liu with their humanity as their species typically cares only for themselves/the family it creates.

If their darling is in the picture, Liu halfs their day so they can spend the rest of the night with them warming up the feast they prepared in preparation.

Carnis:

"I'm t-thankful for sweets, and a warm place to sleep, and...and hot baths, and... you... Y-you're at the top of the list,but I t-thought that'd be pretty obvious... by now.."

Carnis has never heard of Thanksgiving- They don't know much about any celebrations beyond their birthday, but that technically can't be called a holiday - not until they meet you anyway. What better way to show their gratitude than to offer their meat- No? Then at least them set the table. They aren't the greatest chef right off the bat, but there must be something they can help you with. They'll get pouty if you attempt to do household chores in their stead.

They get like that any other day too, but how are they supposed to show their appreciation if you take over from them?

Clementine:

"Dinner will be ready in approximately one hundred and twenty... Correction, make that one hundred and fourty five seconds... You would like me to sit you?.. Strange."

Keeps to herself and for a period, actively seems to avoid you. She has lot to do in the kitchen afterall- Certainly isn't grappling with an bothersome emotions over not being your true family whether platonically or romantically. That would be ridiculous.

Aspen:

It's not a holiday he would celebrate on his own, but he with take whatever excuse he can muster to prepare a big meal for his spouse. Prods his darling for cherished memories of events past. While his own remains a secret, Aspen lives for the remnants of darling's life before they became one.

There are some traditional Thanksgiving foods that he does not fancy, but he will make for darling if he is a fan. Scolds them if they dare bring anything store bought into his kitchen, but if darling is sneaky enough later that evening they'll find him scarfing down a can of cranberry sauce.

Blacksmith:

"You required one of these feathery creatures, did you not? I can remove its head if the stare of its soulless eyes offends you."

Gods in their time held their own traditions, but even then Blacksmith rarely had the grace to be apart of the festivities. It's a great honor for you to share this holiday with them, and he will do everything in his power to be the model guest. It will try to be on their best behavior for you, but there are no guarantees.

[r1vrgreene]

I may not live to see our glory (I may not live to see our glory) But I've seen wonders great and small (I've seen wonders great and small) 'Cause if the tomcat can get married (If Alexander can get married) There's hope for our ass, after all

Raise a glass to freedom (hey!) Something you will never see again No matter what she tells you Let's have another round tonight Raise a glass to the four of us (ho!) To the newly not poor of us (woo-hoo!) We'll tell the story of tonight Let's have another round

Well, if it isn't Aaron Burr (Sir!) I didn't think that you would make it To be sure (Burr) I came to say congratulations Spit a verse, Burr I see the whole gang is here You are the worst, Burr

Ignore them Congrats to you, Lieutenant Colonel I wish I had your command instead of manning George's journal No, you don't Yes, I do Now, be sensible From what I hear, you've made yourself indispensable

Well, well, I heard You've got a special someone on the side, Burr Is that so? What are you tryin' to hide, Burr? I should go No, these guys should go What? No! Leave us alone Man

It's alright, Burr I wish you'd brought this girl with you tonight, Burr You're very kind, but I'm afraid it's unlawful, sir What do you mean? She's married I see She's married to a British officer Oh, shit

Congrats again, Alexander Smile more I'll see you on the other side of the war I will never understand you If you love this woman, go get her What are you waiting for? I'll see you on the other side of the war I'll see you on the other side of the war

Theodosia writes me a letter ev'ry day. I'm keeping her bed warm while her husband is away. He's on the British side in Georgia. He's tryin' to keep the colonies in line. But he can keep all of Georgia. Theodosia, she's mine. Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners And the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway. We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes. And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it. I'm willing to wait for it. My grandfather Was a fire and brimstone preacher, Preacher, preacher, preacher But there are things that the homilies and hymns Won't teach ya. Teach ya, teach ya, teach ya My mother was a genius, Genius My father commanded respect. Respect, respect When they died they left no instructions. Just a legacy to protect. Death doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway. We rise and we fall and we break And we make our mistakes. And if there's a reason I'm still alive When everyone who loves me has died I'm willing to wait for it. I'm willing to wait for it. Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it I am the one thing in life I can control Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it I am inimitable I am an original Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it I'm not falling behind or running late Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it Wait for it I'm not standing still I am lying in wait Wait Wait Wait Hamilton faces an endless uphill climb Climb Climb Climb He has something to prove he has nothing to lose Lose Lose Lose Lose Hamilton's pace is relentless He wastes no time Time Time Time What is it like in his shoes? Hamilton doesn't hesitate. He exhibits no restraint. He takes and he takes and he takes And he keeps winning anyway. He changes the game. He plays and he raises the stakes. And if there's a reason He seems to thrive when so few survive Then Goddamnit I'm willing to wait for it. I'm willing to wait for it... I'm willing to wait for it... Life doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes. And we keep living anyway We rise and we fall and we break We fall and we make our mistakes. And if there's a reason I'm still alive When so many have died Then I'm willin' to- then I'm willin' to- Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait for it... Wait...

Stay alive

Stay alive

I have never seen the General so despondent I have taken over writing all his correspondence Congress writes, "George, attack the British forces" I shoot back, we have resorted to eating our horses Local merchants deny us equipment, assistance They only take British money, so sing a song of sixpence

The cavalry's not coming

But, sir

Alex, listen There's only one way for us to win this Provoke outrage, outright

That's right

Don't engage, strike by night Remain relentless 'til their troops take flight

Make it impossible to justify the cost of the fight

Outrun

Outrun

Outlast

Outlast

Hit 'em quick, get out fast

Chick-a-plao

Stay alive 'til this horror show is past We're gonna fly a lot of flags half-mast

Raise a glass

I go back to New York and my apprenticeship

I ask for French aid, I pray that France has sent a ship

I stay at work with Hamilton We write essays against slavery And every day's a test of our camaraderie And bravery

We cut supply lines, we steal contraband We pick and choose our battles and places to take a stand And ev'ry day Sir, entrust me with a command And ev'ry day

No

He dismisses me out of hand

Instead of me (stay alive) He promotes Charles Lee Makes him second-in-command

I'm a General Whee

Yeah He's not the choice I would have gone with

He shits the bed at the Battle of Monmouth

Ev'ryone attack

Retreat

Attack

Retreat

What are you doing, Lee? Get back on your feet

But there's so many of them

I'm sorry, is this not your speed? Hamilton

Ready, sir Have Lafayette take the lead

Yes, sir

A thousand soldiers die in a hundred degree heat

As we snatch a stalemate from the jaws of defeat

Charles Lee was left behind Without a pot to piss in He started sayin' this to anybody who would listen

Washington cannot be left alone to his devices Indecisive, from crisis to crisis The best thing he can do for the revolution Is turn n' go back to plantin' tobacco in Mount Vernon

Ooh

Don't do a thing History will prove him wrong

But, sir

We have a war to fight, let's move along

Strong words from Lee, someone oughta hold him to it

I can't disobey direct orders

Then I'll do it Alexander, you're the closest friend I've got

Laurens, do not throw away your shot

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

It's the ten duel commandments It's the ten duel commandments

Number one!

The challenge: demand satisfaction If they apologize, no need for further action

Number two!

If they don't, grab a friend, that's your second Your Lieutenant, when there's reckoning to be reckoned

Number three!

Have your seconds meet face to face Negotiate a peace Or negotiate a time and place

This is commonplace, specially 'tween recruits Most disputes die and no one shoots

Number four!

If they don't reach a peace, that's alright Time to get some pistols and a doctor on site

You pay him in advance, you treat him with civility You have him turn around, so he can have deniability

Five!

Duel before the sun is in the sky Pick a place to die where it's high and dry

Number six!

Leave a note for your next of kin Tell 'em where you been Pray that Hell or Heaven lets you in

Seven!

Confess your sins Ready for the moment of adrenaline When you finally face your opponent

Number eight!

Your last chance to negotiate Send in your seconds See if they can set the record straight

Alexander

Aaron Burr, sir

Can we agree that duels are dumb and immature?

Sure But your man has to answer for his words, Burr

With his life? We both know that's absurd, sir

Hang on, how many men died because Lee was inexperienced and ruinous?

Okay, so we're doing this

Number nine!

Look him in the eye, aim no higher Summon all the courage you require Then count

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine Number (Ten paces!) Fire!

Lee, do you yield?

You shot him in the side Yes, he yields

I'm satisfied

Yo, we gotta clear the field

Go We won

Here comes the general

This should be fun What is the meaning of this? Mr. Burr, get a medic for the general

Yes, sir

Lee, you will never agree with me But believe me, these young men don't speak for me Thank you for your service

Let's ride

Hamilton

Sir

Meet me inside

Meet him inside Meet him inside Meet him inside, meet him, meet him inside

Son

Don't call me son

This war is hard enough Without infighting

Lee called you out We called his bluff

You solve nothing, you aggravate our allies to the south You're absolutely right, John should have shot him in the mouth That would've shut him up

Son

I'm notcha son

Watch your tone I am not a maiden in need of defending, I am grown

Charles Lee, Thomas Conway These men take your name and they rake it Through the mud

My name's been through a lot, I can take it

Well, I don't have your name I don't have your titles I don't have your land But, if you

No

If you gave me command of a battalion, a group of men to lead I could fly above my station after the war

Or you could die and we need you alive

I'm more than willing to die

Your wife needs you alive, son, I need you alive

Call me son one more time

Go home, Alexander That's an order from your commander

Sir

Go home

Look around, look around at how lucky we are To be alive right now Look around, look around

How long have you known? A month or so Eliza, you should have told me I wrote to the General a month ago, no I begged him to send you home You should have told me

I'm not sorry I knew you'd fight until the war was won (the war's not done) But you deserve a chance to meet your son Look around, look around At how lucky we are to be alive right now

Will you relish being a poor man's wife Unable to provide for your life? I relish being your wife

Look around, look around Look at where you are Look at where you started The fact that you're alive is a miracle Just stay alive, that would be enough

And if this child Shares a fraction of your smile Or a fragment of your mind Look out world That would be enough

I don't pretend to know The challenges you're facing The worlds you keep erasing and creating in your mind But I'm not afraid I know who I married So long as you come home at the end of the day That would be enough

We don't need a legacy We don't need money If I could grant you peace of mind If you could let me inside your heart Oh, let me be a part of the narrative In the story, they will write someday Let this moment be the first chapter Where you decide to stay

And I could be enough And we could be enough That would be enough

How does a ragtag volunteer army, in need of a shower Somehow defeat a global superpower? How do we emerge victorious from the quagmire? Leave the battlefield waving Betsy Ross's flag higher?

Yo, turns out we have a secret weapon An immigrant you know and love who's unafraid to step in He's constantly confusing, confounding the British henchmen Everyone give it up for America's favourite fighting Frenchman

Lafayette!

I'm taking this horse by the reins Making redcoats redder with bloodstains

Lafayette!

And I'm never gonna stop until I make 'em drop And burn 'em up and scatter the remains I'm—Lafayette!

Watch me engaging 'em, escaping 'em, enraging 'em, ow

Lafayette!

I go to France for more funds

Lafayette!

I come back with more guns

And ships And so the balance shifts We rendezvous with Rochambeau

Consolidate their gifts We can end this war at Yorktown, cut them off at sea, but

For this to succeed, there is someone else we need I know (Hamilton!)

Sir, he knows what to do in the trench

Ingenuitive and fluent in French

I mean (Hamilton!) Sir, you're going to have to use him eventually What's he going to do on the bench

I mean (Hamilton!)

No one has more resilience Or matches my practical, tactical brilliance (Hamilton!) You want to fight for your land back? (Hamilton!) I need my right hand man back (Hamilton!) (Ah, uh, ) get your right hand man back (Hamilton!) (You know you gotta get ya) right hand man back(Hamilton!) I mean, you gotta put some thought into the letter (Ha- Ha-) (Hamilton, Hamilton) But the sooner the better To get your right hand man back (Ha- Ha-) Alexander Hamilton Troops are waiting in the field for you If you join us right now, together we can turn the tide Oh, Alexander Hamilton I have soldiers that will yield for you If we manage to get this right They'll surrender by early light The world will never be the same Alexander

I was younger than you are now When I was given my first command I led my men straight into a massacre I witnessed their deaths firsthand I made every mistake And felt the shame rise in me And even now I lie awake

[Washington (Laurens/Mulligan):] Knowing history has its eyes on me (Whoa oh oh…) (Whoa…) (Whoa…) (Yeah)

[Hamilton/Washington (Company):] History has its eyes on me (Whoa oh oh…) (Whoa…) (Whoa…) (Yeah)

[Washington:] Let me tell you what I wish I'd known When I was young and dreamed of glory You have no control

[Washington And Company:] Who lives, who dies, who tells your story

[Washington:] I know that we can win I know that greatness lies in you But remember from here on in

[Washington/Hamilton and men (Ensemble):] History has its eyes on you (Whoa oh oh…) (Whoa…) (Whoa…)

[Full Company:] History has its eyes on you

The battle of Yorktown, 1781 Monsieur Hamilton Monsieur Lafayette In command where you belong

How you say, no sweat Finally on the field, we've had quite a run Immigrants, we get the job done

So what happens if we win? I go back to France I bring freedom to my people If I'm given the chance

We'll be with you when you do Go lead your men I see you on the other side 'Til we meet again, let's go!

I am not throwin' away my shot! I am not throwin' away my shot! Hey yo, I'm just like my country I'm young scrappy and hungry And I'm not throwin' away my shot! I am not throwin' away my shot! 'Til the world turns upside down 'Til the world turns upside down!

I imagine death so much, it feels more like a memory This is where it gets me, on my feet the enemy ahead of me If this is the end of me, at least I have a friend with me Weapon in my hand, a command, and my men with me Then I remember my Eliza's expecting me Not only that, my Eliza's expecting We gotta go, gotta get the job done Gotta start a new nation, gotta meet my son!

Take the bullets out your gun! (What?) The bullets out your gun! (What?) We move undercover and we move as one Through the night, we have one shot to live Another day We cannot let a stray gunshot give us away

We will fight up close, seize the moment and stay in it It's either that or meet the business end of a bayonet The code word is "Rochambeau", dig me? (Rochambeau!) You have your orders now, go, man, go!

And so the American experiment begins With my friends all scattered to the winds Laurens is in South Carolina, redefining bravery We'll never be free until we end slavery! When we finally drive the British away Lafayette is there waiting in Chesapeake Bay! How did we know that this plan would work? We had a spy on the inside, that's right

Hercules Mulligan! A tailor spyin' on the British government! I take their measurements, information and then I smuggle it! (Up) To my brother's revolutionary covenant I'm runnin' with the Sons of Liberty and I am lovin' it! See, that's what happens when you up against the ruffians We in the shit now, somebody gotta shovel it! Hercules Mulligan, I need no introduction When you knock me down I get the fuck back up again!

Left! Right! Hold! Go! What! What! What!

After a week of fighting, a young man in a red coat stands on a parapet We lower our guns as he frantically waves a white handkerchief And just like that, it's over, we tend to our wounded, we count our dead Black and white soldiers wonder alike if this really means freedom Not yet

We negotiate the terms of surrender I see George Washington smile We escort their men out of Yorktown They stagger home single file Tens of thousands of people flood the streets There are screams and church bells ringing And as our fallen foes retreat I hear the drinking song they're singing

The world turned upside down The world turned upside down The world turned upside down The world turned upside down Down, down, down, down

Freedom for America, freedom for France! Down, down, down Gotta start a new nation, gotta meet my son Down, down, down

We won! We won! We won! We won! The world turned upside down!

They say The price of my war's not a price that they are willing to pay Insane You cheat with the French Now I'm fighting with France and with Spain

I'm so blue I thought that we made an arrangement when you went away You were mine to subdue When even despite our estrangement I've got a small query for you

What comes next? You've been freed Do you know how hard it is to lead? You're on your own Awesome, wow! Do you have a clue what happens now?

Oceans rise Empires fall It's much harder when it's all your call All alone, across the sea When your people say they hate you Don't come crawling back to me

Da da da dat da dat da da da ya da Da da dat da da ya da! You're on your own

Dear Theodosia, what to say to you? You have my eyes, you have your mother's name When you came into the world, you cried And it broke my heart

I'm dedicating every day to you Domestic life was never quite my style When you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart And to thought I was so smart

You will come of age with our young nation We'll bleed and fight for you We'll make it right for you If we lay a strong enough foundation We'll pass it on to you, we'll give the world to you And you'll blow us all away Someday, someday Yeah, you'll blow us all away Someday, someday

Oh, Philip, when you smile I am undone My son, look at my son Pride is not the word I'm looking for There is so much more inside me now Oh, Philip, you outshine the morning sun My son When you smile, I fall apart And I thought I was so smart

My father wasn't around (my father wasn't around) I swear that I'll be around for you I'll do whatever it takes (I'll make a million mistakes) I'll make the world safe and sound for you

Will come of age with our young nation We'll bleed and fight for you We'll make it right for you If we lay a strong enough foundation We'll pass it on to you, we'll give the world to you And you'll blow us all away Someday, someday

Yeah, you'll blow us all away Someday, someday

After the war I went back to New York

A-After the war I went back to New York

I finished up my studies and I practiced law

I practiced law, Burr worked next door

Even though we started at the very same time Alexander Hamilton began to climb How to account for his rise to the top? Man, the man is Non-stop!

Gentlemen of the jury, I'm curious, bear with me Are you aware that we're making history? This is the first murder trial of our brand-new nation The liberty behind deliberation Non-stop!

I am meant to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt With my assistant counsel—

Co-counsel. Hamilton, sit down Our client Levi Weeks is innocent, call your first witness That's all you had to say

Okay, one more thing—

Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom

Aww!

Why do you write like you're running out of time? Write day and night like you're running out of time Every day you fight like you're running out of time

Keep on fighting, in the meantime Non-stop!

Corruption's such an old song that we can sing along in harmony And nowhere is it stronger than in Albany This colony's economy's increasingly stalling And honestly, that's why (He's just) Public service seems to be (non-stop!) calling me

I practiced the law, practic'ly perfected it I've seen injustice in the world and I've corrected it Now for a strong central democracy If not, then I'll be Socrates Throwing verbal rocks at these mediocrities (Awww!)

Hamilton at the Constitutional Convention

I was chosen for the Constitutional Convention!

There as a New York junior delegate

Now what I'm gonna say may sound indelicate... (Awww!)

Goes and proposes his own form of government What?

His own plan for a new form of government What?

Talks for six hours, the convention is listless

Bright young man! Yo, who the eff is this?

Why do you always say what you believe? Why do you always say what you believe?

Every proclamation guarantees Free ammunition for your enemies (Awww!)

Why do you write like it's going out of style (goin out of style, hey) Write day and night like it's going out of style (goin out of style, hey) Every day you fight like it's going out of style Do you what you do

Alexander?

Aaron Burr, sir

Well, it's the middle of the night

Can we confer, sir?

Is this a legal matter?

Yes, and it's important to me

What do you need?

Burr, you're a better lawyer than me

Okay?

I know I talk too much, I'm abrasive You're incredible in court, you're succinct, persuasive My client needs a strong defence, you're the solution

Who's your client?

The new U.S. Constitution?

No

Hear me out—

No way!

A series of essays anonymously published Defending the document to the public

No one'll read it

I disagree!

And if it fails?

Burr, that's why we need it

The constitution's a mess!

So it needs amendments

It's full of contradictions!

So is independence We have to start somewhere

No, no, no, no, no, no way

You're making a mistake

Good night!

Hey! What are you waiting for? What do you stall for?

What?

We won the war, what was it all for? Do you support this constitution?

Of course

Then defend it!

And what if you're backing the wrong horse?

Burr, we studied and we fought and we killed For the notion of a nation we now get to build For once in your life take a stand with pride I don't understand how you stand to the side

I don't keep all my plans close to my chest

Wait for it, wait for it, wait

I won't wait here and see which

Way the wind will blow I'm taking my time watching the afterbirth of a nation Watching the tension grow

I am sailing off to London I am accompanied by someone who always pays I have found a wealthy husband Who will keep me in comfort for all my days He is not a lot of fun but There's no one who can match you for turn of phrase My Alexander—

Angelica

Don't forget to write

Look at where you are Look at where you started The fact that you're alive is a miracle Just stay alive, that would be enough And if your wife could share a fraction of your time If I could grant you peace of mind Would that be enough?

Alexander joins forces with James Madison and John Jay to write a series of essays Defending the new United States Constitution, entitled The Federalist Papers The plan was to write a total of twenty-five essays The work divided evenly among the three men In the end, they wrote eighty-five essays in the span of six months John Jay got sick after writing five James Madison wrote twenty-nine Hamilton wrote the other FIFTY-ONE!

How do you write like you're

Running out time Write day and night like you're

Running out time

Every day you fight like you're

Running out time

Like you're

Running out time

Are you running out time?

How do you write like tomorrow won't arrive? How do you write like you need it to survive? How do you write every second you're alive Every second you're alive Every second you're alive

They're asking me to lead I'm doing the best I can To get the people that I need I'm asking you to be my right hand man

Treasury or State?

I know it's a lot to ask—

Treasury or State?

To leave behind the world you know—

Sir, do you want me to run the Treasury or State Department?

Treasury

Let's go

Alexander!

I have to leave

Alexander!

Look around, look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now

Helpless

They are asking me to lead

Look around, isn't this enough?

He will never be satisfied

Would it be enough?

He will never be satisfied

Satisfied, satisfied, satisfied

History has it's eyes on you

Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room?

Look around, look around

Non-stop!

He will never be satisfied, satisfied, satisfied

Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude may be your doom

Isn't this enough? Would it be enough?

History has it's eyes on you

Why do you write like you're running out of time?

Non-stop!

Why do you write like—

History has it's eyes on you!

I am not throwing away my shot!

Just you wait

I am not throwing away my shot!

Just you wait

I am Alexander Hamilton

Hamilton Just you wait

I am not throwing away my shot!

END OF ACT 1 YyAYAYAYA

ADD ME BACK ON ROBLOX YOU COWARD

IM WATCHING FALSETTOS LEAVE ME ALONE

[ef-1]

🍷<3

[xskyll]

Page 15, for the second time! Apologies to those that saw the version I posted last night with the typo. My days lately have been busy, so sometimes I feel a bit brain foggy. A couple of people left comments on either here or Twitter and it killed me to delete everything. ;_;

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[ccbatman]

actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.

[shorthaltsjester]

begging twitter to stop showing me tweets of people with no reading comprehension misrepresenting things I said but since i was going to make this more in-depth post Anyway .

when i say imogen is better read as a metaphor for generational trauma than she is a metaphor for queerness or chronic pain, i’m not talking about legitimate traits she has as a character. obviously she is queer. obviously she experiences some form of chronic pain (though i would argue her magic better suits chronic illness not pain because she states that it’s Not always painful, but it does always influence how she lives her life).

when i talk about how well she’s understood as a metaphor, i’m talking about when i’m looking at her as a part of a story, as an arc that i am witnessing rather than in the more typical fandom way of this is a fictional person who interacts with exandria as real people do. and that is a fun way to interact with characters, i enjoy it a lot! but when i say imogen (to me, as i for some reason have to clarify on my own blog which implies that these are my own opinions and not absolute fact that needs to be accepted by people on the internet with different experience and opinions than me) is best read as a metaphor for generational trauma, it isn’t a dismissal of her queerness or her illness, it’s just me thinking looking at her from that angle is more compelling.

imogen has been one of my favourite characters and least favourite characters in campaign 3 because i tend to analyse her through a lens of generational trauma and she ends up looking extremely familiar to me as someone with a family that carries their’s heavily which is as comforting as it is frustrating.

for me the main thing that looking at imogen through a queer lens of literary analysis fails to account for is harm. on the one hand - the harm that imogen experiences, not because of how people treat her for who she is, but that exists simply as a factor of her being ruidusborn. on the other hand a the harm that imogen causes. not to say that she is some malicious villain waiting for her chance to harm others, but that there are things about being ruidusborn that very much do incline her towards violence in a way that she might not otherwise be - i think about the conversation after she went nuclear and chet brought up people being scared of her connecting that to her father keeping distance. the only harm that queerness provides comes from society, and that isn’t the case in exandria. even metaphorically, the thing that society fears in ruidusborn people (while it has certainly been exacerbated by centuries of superstition and practices like we saw in zephrah) is a tangible threat. imogen’s magic when not controlled can wipe out a city block, but queerness poses no threat.

that’s why i’m not compelled by imogen’s backstory as a queer metaphor. not because i’m some imodna anti (i very emphatically am not but this fandom kinda makes me wish i was sometimes) or because i think exandria’s lack of homophobia/transphobia means that characters can’t be viewed through a queer lens or that critical role doesn’t contain some of the most compelling queer metaphor i’ve encountered. imogen just isn’t one of those characters, not because she isn’t queer, or because i think her story shouldn’t resonate with queer people, just because i find the generational trauma angle more consistent.

it’s similar with the chronic illness angle, which i will refer to as illness but you’re welcome to emphasise pain, we all have different vocabularies for the experiences we face. but just to give context i’m running off laura’s comparison of imogen’s powers to her own sensory issues and anxiety which while often Lead to pain, fall more into chronic illness in imogen’s context to me. and i do think there’s substantial comparison for imogen’s story as a metaphor for chronic illness, but i think that was much more true earlier in the campaign than it is looking at her from the current context. her beginning motivation being her search for knowledge about her powers really resonated with me as similar to someone experiencing symptoms of chronic illness but who could neither figure out how to treat them or what they were caused by.

but then imogen got more information, specifically about her mother, and her priority became not understanding her powers but understanding her current state as a person - how had she become the person she is, inclusive of her powers but very much emphasising her lack of a mother who became more and more present in the unweaving web of ruidusborn lore. that’s when i was less compelled by the chronic illness reading and more compelled by viewing her as a metaphor for generational trauma. had that not been enough on its own, imogen’s visit to relvin and her recent thoughts on her mother would be enough to convince me.

the part that makes me hesitant about this post is that generational trauma is so intensely linked to the contexts under which it is created and perpetuated. so i can’t really point to specific scenes as evidence of specific things that prove generational trauma is the most compelling and i don’t really want to unload that much of my own experience to clarify my thoughts on a character. but vaguely, i will say that imogen’s relationship with her parents is obviously the clearest source for my reading her as a metaphor for generational trauma. the fact that relvin, the only person in her family without the thing that draws society’s ire, is also the person that she has the most willing anger at is also indicative of this to me. in general, imogen’s rage that so easily transitions into sadness and vice versa comes out a lot in conversations about parents. most recently, i think about ashton’s lovely speech about found family and his distrust about parents and how as they were speaking, laura seemed to be playing imogen as sadly in thought versus months ago when fearnes parents showed up with striking similarities to liliana and imogen’s words of wisdom were let’s hurt them all.

and like. to me that angersadnessvengeancegrief is particularly evocative of the feelings that arise when you are in a family with generational trauma, especially when you are aware of it. because imogen can and has followed the logical steps that have led her and her family to where they are. early on when recounting her relationship with her dad she seemed wistful but understanding of the distance between them. in nearly every encountered with a parental figure imogen seems to be some level of distrusting for the most part, but she’s still holding out hope that her mother will see the good side. and further, there’s the complication of how dire her losing her powers seems to be, and how inextricable her powers are from every aspect of her life. she’s also southern and from a blue collar family. this means nothing except it also means a whole lot.

this is messy and not well organised but if you want a good essay you’re gonna have to pay me money for it but tldr: i say things i believe on my This Is My Opinion Blog and i don’t think i need to explain my thoughts to strangers on the internet but this was already half written in my drafts and if people are gonna shit on my opinions please at least do it in good faith and shit on my actual opinions not the ones you’ve decided i have.

[indifferentenkephalin]

My father has just brought up a theory I hadn't considered that, perhaps, my ASPD symptoms are not (primarily,) the result to my mother's abuse, but actually something I've gotten from him genetically.

... It'd make sense, but fuck, fuck I don't want it to