#there’s so many other things I can do that will bring me joy
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Jayce Talis as a Husband & Father | Headcanons
➸ ask: "hiii i was wondering if you could do post s2 arcane headcanons for Jayce?? like jayce x wife!reader that have a newborn baby??" ➸ pairing: jayce talis x wife!reader ➸ word count: 923 words ➸ tags: mdni! sfw, fluff, comfort, mentions of jayce’s trauma, pregnancy, headcanons, childbirth, parenthood, canon-divergent ending. ➸ notes: i went really poetic with this idk why. also this definitely heightened my already terrible baby fever……. please for the love of god send me more asks about girldad jayce, i am begging you. i love writing these.
When you met Jayce Talis, you fell madly in love with him almost instantly—as did he with you. Within the first six months of your relationship, he proposed to you with a ring that he’d smithed himself, adorned with a hextech gemstone that sparkled unlike anything you’d ever seen. Of course, you said yes… and moved in within that same week.
Living with Jayce Talis meant dealing with the aftershocks of what he’d gone through during his time in the arcane and subsequent war. With a permanently injured leg and mental wounds that left him cursed by night terrors, you were they by his side to help him overcome his past. You were the rock he hadn’t known he needed, the one who encouraged him to keep fixing what he’d broken (and not without his partner, Viktor.)
Although he’d gone through hell and back, he found joy and happiness in you again. No longer was he filled with anger and guilt for allowing his naivety to take control of what was right—all Jayce wanted was to be happy. With you.
When you found out you were pregnant, Jayce was over the moon, excited and horribly nervous. He constantly worried whether or not he’d be a good father, and the absence of his own in his life made him uncertain. He would spend countless evenings with his mother, asking her hundreds of questions about parenthood, which either made it better or worse depending on what he wanted to know.
However, the worry washed away when he held his little girl in his arms—weighing shy of six pounds and so tiny in his arms. It was a beautiful sight, a rugged man with messy hair, scarred arms, and calloused hands holding the love of his life.
Your daughter brings out a side of Jayce that Viktor told you is reminiscent of his life when they first met all those years ago: gentle, curious, nervous and much too excited.
Jayce is messy and clumsy in his parenting, learning as he goes, but he is so dedicated. He’s used to being covered in stains but no longer in oil and soot from his work. Now it’s spit-up and dried milk… among other things. And to you, he’s never looked sexier than when he’s a mess.
Even though he’s still a councillor and working with Viktor on restabilizing hextech, he makes time for his family. The days of late-night tinkering in the lab or long council meetings are in the past because there is nothing more important to him than you two.
He is a very overprotective dad, constantly worrying about the little things and often getting sleepless nights because he checks on her one too many times to make sure sleeping soundly in her crib. He baby-proofs your home with everything he can make��doorstops, locks for the cabinets and removing any of his work from his home to the lab so there are no accidents. It’s cute, but considering that your daughter is shy of two months old, the baby-proofing tends to get in the way, but you let him. ‘Father knows best’ is a term he coins and uses, much to your annoyance.
Jayce always splits the tasks of parenting between you two but is never opposed to taking on more than you if you need the rest. As you slowly transition to include bottle feeding in your routine, he takes on nightly shifts for you. You find him asleep a few times, sitting up against the crib with a blanket covered in spit-up draped over his shoulder and an empty bottle in his hand.
He is a sentimental man. He makes a locket that he wears as a necklace every day, tucked beneath his clothing, and shows it off to anyone that he can—a photo of you and your daughter inside it.
You swear you’ve never been more in love with Jayce than you are now. A loving father and husband who doesn’t let his new role as a parent overshadow his love for you.
He’s just as romantic as he was the first time he took you on a date. A month after you gave birth and were far too stir-crazy to be at home any longer, Ximena watched your daughter, and he took you out on a date that reminded you of simpler times. Showering you with gentle touches and kisses that set your heart on fire and reignited your passion.
Jayce noticed how your confidence dropped since the pregnancy. He finds you looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to love the body that grew your daughter, hands over your still-rounded stomach and tracing the stretchmarks. Changes that look so large in your eyes go unnoticed by him, and he makes sure to cherish your body as a reminder that his love for you hasn’t changed.
Every night in bed, he kisses your stomach, your hips, your thighs—peppering your body with kisses and massaging you as he worships your strength and beauty, silently thanking you for bringing your daughter into the world.
As with any relationship, there are good days and bad. Some days go so smoothly that you wonder if you both were naturally inclined to be the perfect parents. Then come the days when all you can do is argue, overcome with the stress, fears and worries of marriage and parenthood.
But you make it through because to be loved by Jayce Talis is to feel love unlike anything you have experienced before, and that is worth the hardships.
#jayce talis x reader#jayce x reader#jayce talis x you#jayce x you#jayce talis x y/n#jayce x y/n#jayce talis#jayce arcane#arcane x reader#arcane x you#arcane x y/n#arcane#arcane fic#jayce talis fic#wordsbyspatial#spatialanswers
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me just rambling about dragon age lore. spoilers for veilguard under the keep reading line.
i wish they had gone down the route of solas not telling the full truth of the evanuris. "they're tyrants and slave owners!" (paraphrase) but in actuality when they get released (ALL OF THEM BC I WANT TO SEE ALL OF THEM) it reveals that there are factions within. those who were actually awful tyrants, those who were lesser evils who never truly helped either side, those that were either secretly or openly helping solas in his rebellion. like imagine the idea of the evanuris that helped him willingly sacrificing themselves to create a stronger seal on the prison. or like the idea that they were genuinely betrayed and have a conflicting relationship with solas after being locked away for so long. i don't like that all the gods are just "tyrants and slave owners." give us variety. not everything should be so cut and dry. and yeah, i don't like that they're just all spirits :/ keep them mysterious immortal beings while solas is the spirit that is used and turned towards the conflict and war.
i also think taking the gods of a diaspora, especially one with clear influences, and making them all evil with no real moral ambiguity wasn't really the best way to go... i understand gods not being morally perfect because many gods within our religions aren't, but there are few that are just "evil" with nothing else to them.
i was going to talk about the reveal that elves are originally spirits that used the titans to become physical and the resulting war, but i got carried away and i think it might be it's own post lol. (it was more about the titans than elves)
i personally don't really like that idea that much because i don't think we need to be given explanations on how races are created. we don't fully know how dwarves came to be, only that dwarves lived with titans. we don't know the full story of qunari, we don't know the full story of humans. so why do we need to know the full story of elves?
i also don't like how the blight changed. i get why, because it can be used by ghilan'nain and elgar'nan, but it also just feels like a copout so they can use it more as a mechanic within the game. popping boils and making puzzles from the blight. taking away how it completely destroys land and taints every single being that comes into prolonged contact with it was not a good change in my opinion. the blight as it was and the taint adds pressure and consequences. they kind of did it with d'meta's crossing, but after that it "changed" more. show us ghouls, show us land actually dying. i loved walking around the western approach, seeing how the blight completely changed the land. i loved finding the silent plains concept art recently.
and to be honest, i don't know how i would have connected creation of the blight to a specific event so i'm not going to really talk about it.
oh and the old gods of tevinter. lame reveal that the dragons were just thralls of the evanuris. taking all these religions and connecting them to one group of people doesn't bring me joy. it makes the world smaller and it takes away the fun of fantasy. as an avid "let the gods being mysterious gods" person, i think the old gods of tevinter should be their own thing. have them be another enemy of the evanuris. you talked about multiple wars? there. another war. maybe it could even be the final wars that started while solas had his rebellion? and the forgotten ones are the old gods, locked away in the abyss (deep underground), while the evanuris are locked away in the sky (the black city / fade).
"how would the tevinter people worship them if they are locked away before humans are said to come to thedas?" easy. retcon. they already love doing that with little things. and honestly i feel like this would be a retcon that most people would not mind as much as other retcons. or, you know, expand on what yavana said in the silent grove about a time before the veil and high dragons in the sky.
was gonna say more but i don't know how to word it well so okie dokie i'm done rambling.
#just random thoughts#about paths that could've been taken#and lore in general#dragon age#dragon age veilguard#veilguard critical#i guess#dragon age the veilguard spoilers#dragon age veilguard spoilers
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Lol Joy you definitely did not fucking say that. This is the thing that you wish you said, or worse, what you somehow think she must be expected to understand without you saying so. Joy is trapped just like Evelyn is, and, similar to Evelyn, trapped by her own expectations as well as the ones placed upon her. She wants to be the badass lesbian, she wants to be the beloved daughter, she wants to be an American, she wants to be Chinese, and she is all of those things, but she can't make them into just Joy. She can't put all those things and just be all of them at once. Because it's hard! It fucking sucks!
I think part of what I love about this movie is the idea that we are all of us many things at once. This is the hard part. How do you be yourself, when yourself is only some mix of all these other people? How do I, as a person, hold everything that I am, that I'm expected to be? How do you integrate that into being a person? It's ahrd being a person. it's hard not reducing yourself down to handful of identities and labels, because I think it's so tempting to be like, 'No, I figured it out, I'm this! These people are just like me." but it's so much more complicated than that. I'm a Jew and a mother and a lesbian and a Montanan and ADHD and an American and all of these things are a part of me, but none of them ARE me. It's only in learning how to be all of them at once that we can bring ourselves together, and let ourselves expand. We have to hold that we can be more than we are, more than is easily underlined.
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rdj the (whitewashed) electric boogaloo
This is a reminder to everyone who's excited about RDJ's casting as Doctor Doom that this casting is whitewashing. Victor Von Doom is a Romani character and has been a Romani character since his introduction in the 1960s. (Fantastic Four Annual #2 [1964]) Not only that, but his Roma identity and the persecution he and his family faced due to it is integral to his character, it is what forms his identity. (Books of Doom by Ed Brubaker) Even if on the off chance this casting is meant to not be Victor but instead be some variant of Tony or whomever else becoming Doctor Doom, it is damaging to the character to rob him of that important cultural background. Doctor Doom does not exist without that history. Fans have been pushing hard to cast Doom as a Romani actor for years, especially since the MCU has whitewashed other Romani characters. (Wanda, Pietro, etc) This casting is not a celebration moment, it's fucking heartbreaking that the MCU repeatedly ignores the important and nuanced cultural backstories of characters.
I know I can't change anybody's mind on whether or not you want to be excited about RDJ's return to the MCU. But I do think at the very least you should be mad that the MCU is baiting us all and destroying nuanced and interesting characters for the sake of self-referential easter eggs and nostalgia bait. Because that's what it is. Feel how you'd like to feel about RDJ's return, but personally, this is soul-sucking. I had such a deep love for the MCU as a teenager, it was obviously something incredibly formative to me, especially Tony Stark. This isn't recreating what I fell in love with the MCU for. This is turning a well-planned and artistic storyline of adaptations into cheap cash grabs and fan service. Because, I think we're past the point of being able to call the MCU an adaptation of anything. They can use existing characters' names and powers, but to say they're being properly adapted is laughable.
This is not an adaptation of Doctor Doom. This is RDJ the Electric Boogaloo because Marvel's fear of losing the interest of dedicated MCU fans overrides their willingness to tell stories that are genuine to the characters. I don't know what there is to be excited about that. The MCU has lost its authenticity and aside from a few projects, feels heartless. Every movie is a copy of a copy. This announcement isn't something celebratory, it feels like a death knell of a cinematic universe that's so desperate to cling to relevancy it's resorting to nostalgia for a character/actor who hasn't even been dead for a decade. We're not getting anything new, we're just rinsing and repeating the same song and dance.
I get it. I love Tony Stark, his death destroyed me and I to this day, rue the ending he got in Endgame. It misunderstood his arc and it robbed him of a satisfying conclusion. But the solution to that isn't dragging the corpse out of the grave five years later to whitewash an existing character with rich and interesting nuance, just to forcibly tie his existence in the MCU to Tony. Whether he is a variant or not. Why would you want someone else's fave's legacy to be destroyed simply so your fave's legacy can go on? Hell, if we were really all so hellbent on the return of RDJ and/or Tony to the MCU, we have the multiverse for a reason. There were other ways to do it that didn't whitewash and ruin someone else. This just. Isn't something to be happy about.
#... we will not be addressing that i'm a dead blog#no one say a WORD about my inactivity for 4 years this isn't about that /lh#also if anyone tries to get smart about “romani isn't a race” i don't care and you can shut up.#it's an ethnic and cultural identity. and it should be portrayed correctly.#ESPECIALLY for a character like *victor von doom* of all people. like it is fundamental to him.#i would've included panels of the comics mentioned but most of them use the g-slur and i don't wish to encourage that here#like listen i don't think you need to be a comics fan to be an mcu fan. they're so divorced from each other atp#nor do i think the mcu owes complete comic accuracy. but i do think you should at *least* care when characters are whitewashed.#look. i really don't want this to be a debate on if rdj's return is good or not#i've been frankly baffled at how many old mutuals are excited but. whatever if you want him back i get it.#but it shouldn't be like this. not at the expense of a different character.#this whole thing made me realize i'm *far* more jaded and turned off to the mcu than most of you guys are.#which is fair you can still be an mcu fan. if it brings you joy i'm so happy for you#but how does this like. bring joy i don't get it.#this is soulless. it's uninspired. it's done purely for shock value.#i occasionally get asks to this blog about why i left and asking me to come back#and i get it. i *want* to come back.#but i don't *care* about the mcu anymore. this is not the franchise i fell in love with.#i don't recognize what once meant everything to me.#winteriron will always hold a special place in my heart (as will tony stark)#but like. i just don't have love for it. and it sucks that this bullshit from marvel actively kills the love i had.#this sours tony stark to me. i'm sorry but it does. because was it really worth this? is this what his legacy has become?#this does cheapen his legacy btw. like without question. it turns him into a cheap cameo reference. heart of the mcu my ass.#my fandom circles have *massively* changed#i'm now entirely surrounded by comics fans bc my primary fandom is dc comics. that's what i'm up to these days#and the difference was actually baffling to me. everyone i follow now is *pissed* about this. comics twitter is so mad.#and then i see ppl on here excited and i'm just genuinely surprised this is something you want. i don't get it.#i don't say that to be rude. i just don't get it. how is *this* actually something people *want*.#do i still care about marvel? eh.#i like winter soldier comics and i could give a comprehensive rec list. and i read some other characters i deeply enjoy.
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hi! this is my small, gentle reminder that you don’t have to be like other people. I know the best parts of other people are beautiful and exciting and just so cool, but you don’t need to be everything. it’s okay not to be as good at watercolor as your sister or not give good advice like your mom does and it’s okay to love qualities in other people. sometimes other people’s words or their idiosyncrasies or the way they part their hair is so wonderful that you want to join, you want to feel the way about yourself, about the not-as-great parts of yourself that you do about the best parts of them. and it’s okay if you start listening to The Killers because it’s your brother’s favorite band or if you decide you want to get red converse like the ones your best friend has. but it’s okay if you can’t “keep up” with their grades or will never be able to do eyeliner as well as they can or maybe it seems like they just love life more than you do. I just want you to know that there are unattainable parts of you too. you can like things about other people that you don’t have, and you don’t have to give a compliment thinking god I wish I was like that. you don’t have to be like that. it’s okay to just be the things you are. you don’t have to be everything.
#found this in my drafts from a couple years ago & thought it was still pretty relevant haha#this isn't at anyone other than myself but#sometimes i look at the people i love and think !!!!! this part about them is so wonderful!!!!!#i want to be wonderful in the same way!!!! because i love it in them and so i want to love it in me too#but you can't have every quality and you can't be good at everything#it's okay to be what you already are#not to say that you can't try to emulate your role models don't take pieces of your loved ones for yourself#we are collages of every person we've ever loved ever known#but you don't have to#you don't have to take everything you don't have to be everything#you don't have to be like someone you love#someone you know is loveable#to be loveable too.#you can. i started listening to the magnus archives because of my friends and i like to try my hand at aus i loved reading#and those things bring me a lot of joy!!! and i love them!!#but sometimes it can turn into. why isn't this as good as theirs why can't i look like them or have as cool clothes as them or whatever#'i'm so sick of myself / rather be rather be / anyone anyone else'#'i know their beauty's not my lack / i know their win is not my loss'#maybe this is a very selfish mindset. it feels like it and ha#i wish i wasn't as selfish a friend as my friends are#do you see how this works#hm. this probably doesn't make much sense.#i just. you don't have to be everything#you are already the things you are and that's already enough#fiona speaks#i just think comparison#comparison and shame are at the root of so many of our problems. they are one of the greatest enemies to us#take pieces but. ha a uquiz told me once that your fuel does not have to be shame#idk just. yeah. what other people have is not your lack#idk
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fuck
#like idk i never realized just how bad she hurt me. i didnt even rly realize she hurt me at all#bc there are so so so many ways she sldve reacted so much worse. but like i never thought someone cld just straight up ignore it.#like i get the way i told her was dumb and confusing. ok. i can understand that. whatever#but idk. she said she wished my sister had told her years earlier so that she cldve helped her back then#but then suddenly it's different when it's me. suddenly it's 'but youve always been my little girl' and 'oh i dont know that sounds dangerou#s' and 'are you sure?' and 'how long have you felt like this'#well it's been almost 5 fucking years now and it hasnt changed. i havent changed. fuck#i trusted her. i trusted her to be there for me and to support me and to accept me and she threw it back in my face and never even blinked#i can never ever trust her again and she doesnt care. she doesnt even know bc shes so wrapped up in all the fucking lies she tells herself#fuck. she did everything wrong. fuck. i can never fully trust anyone with this part of me again bc of her#and it's awful bc it's such an important part of me. it brings me so much joy and i think on it often and i love myself for it#but it's just simmering in my chest and every time i think of letting it hit air again i freeze bc i thought it was safe once and it WASNT.#i wanted to get my name changed before high school. i wanted to start the medical process. i wanted all the thing i thought shed do for me.#my wants and my understanding of my identity has changed now but it still hurts.#it hurts so bad to see other ppl my age get all of that and to have the support of their family and to not be afraid to put a name to it all#im happy for them. but it's so awful hearing her point those ppl out w no self awareness like oh thats so good for them isnt that sweet#I AM RIGHT HERE! YOU COULD BE DOING ALL OF THAT! I NEEDED YOU TO BE THAT FOR ME!#and every time she does acknowledge it she gets it completely wrong or it's just to bemoan how little she understands#'oh everyones changing their name now its so confusing' 'im really trying i dont know what else you want from me' NO YOURE NOT! YOURE NOT!#YOUVE NEVER BEEN WILLING TO TRY. NOT FOR ME.#you never fucking loved me you loved the idea of what you thought i would be and you cant fucking let it go even when the truth is staring#you dead in the face. fuck. you complain about how i 'hate you' or 'think youre stupid' well maybw treat me with an ounce of respect and act#like you understand the things youve EXPLICITLY BEEN TOLD. even a little.#but honestly it's too late. if she were to suddenly have a change of heart now i wouldnt give a damn.#the damage is done you dont get to have this part of me and act like youre such a good and supportive mother.#i cant even say i hate her. i love her but shes hurt me more than anyone else ever has and i can never trust her to actually love me or even#fucking see me or support anything about me that actually matters to me#i dont know. i dont know. thinking about it again.#ive thought abt telling my dad. not bc it wld do any good but bc ik he values honesty and maybe hed throw me a 'damn that sucks'#my sister said this is something i have to fight on but she doesnt get it. i have no ground to stand on as far as shes concerned
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Am gonna go both broad and also narrow cause wins really depend. It depends on what I want out of the sport, and what my expectations are vs what I’m actually getting. It also depends on overarching season narrative and whether am I watching an actual game.
With Pirates baseball I want to check in occasionally to see how they’re doing and my expectations are so low that the knowledge that we won is a pleasant surprise and the knowledge that we gave up 5 runs in an inning is met with lmao what else did I expect from this team. The bar is so low I’m excited when the clear it and when they inevitably limbo under it I’m just like lol, lmao. I do not follow baseball closely however so I don’t really get any narrative beyond what my sister shares with me from baseball twitter. Thus winning is a pleasant surprise but nothing I’m expecting and losing doesn’t ruin my mood. I also don’t watch games. I’ll tune in for an inning and tune out after that. The only time that really matters is the ninth inning and yeah if we get close and lose that sucks but again, what did I expect from this shitsburgh team.
With Steelers football I went into the last season knowing we had a baby QB and that we were at the start/middle of a rebuild and that playoffs were a pipe dream so I set my loftiest goals at Pickett starts at least one game and the team ends at .5 record. They did that for me. We got close to an even w/l record and Pickett started the back half of the season. I’m still getting used to watching football games and managing my expectations. I got into football via fantasy football and boy am I bad at it. I’ve been bottom of the bottom of my league 2 years in a row. It’s hard. I don’t like it. At certain points last fall it made me dread Sundays because I do not like the it. The thing is I’ve got a good group of people I like making memes and memories with so like idk the experience is worth it even if its been the source of the bad brain chemicals many a time. Quite literally in that league winning is the friends I made along the way because I am not doing any winning.
Pens I expect them to win. That’s the main thing. They are a good team and I expect them to win more than they lose. They aren’t going to win forever. There’s a reason it’s called hubris dot gif after all. Still I expect them to be able to win games. I expect them to make it to the playoffs. We could be one game from being mathematically eliminated from the playoffs (entering partytime for all my fellow blaseball fans) and I would still be like no we’re gonna make it. This season has tested that faith a lot. Losses hurt, because they go against what I know to be the core makeup of my team. You can say that I’m spoiled in that respect, but again it’s expectations vs what we’re actually getting and the reconciling of those two.
Watching games is fun. Watching games can eat up and afternoon and evening. Spending all that time only to see your team come close and fall short can be intensely disappointing. I enter most hockey games with “I think my team can win this” and so a loss is disappointing.Sometimes it’s meh or numbness sometimes it’s enough to get me spiraling most of the time though it’s the absence of the good brain chemical when I need a pick me up. I have different expectations with other sports so it’s a different experience watching game.
Wins feel good. I get the good serotonin from them. If I’m not gonna get the good serotonin is this worth my time? I turned off the rangers game on Sunday to instead watch John Wick 1 and had a much more pleasant evening than if I had sat there being frustrated and mad at the pens performance. I can follow a loosing team but watching losing games is something that is unfun and can actively be harmful for my mood. I promised myself in my teens when I quit glee that I wouldn’t hate watch things anymore — I can watch things that are low quality or where my purpose is making fun of it but if the only emotion I get from content is hatred or rage then I need to take a step back and quit. There have been pens games where all I felt in my heart was rage and I just wanted to quit. The worst of these was the oilers game I was physically present at where losing felt like adding insult to injury because I couldn’t just turn off the game and move on with my life. There are good things in a losing effort. Sometimes you gotta take the small wins of a milestone reached or it’s not a shutout. Some losses hurt less than others. Losing in general however doesn’t feel good.
I don’t need to win always and I don’t expect to always win. I want the Stanley Cup every year but I don’t expect to get it. My issues with the pens this year has mostly been my expectations for the team vs the reality that I’m getting.
I have a question for Sports Fans.
What does winning mean to you?
Because I cheer for majority underdog teams and I don't think winning to me means the same thing it does to others. So please if you have been rooting for a team that has been a winning team or at least good for longer than they haven't (Think NFL Patriots, NHL Penguins, NBA Golden State Warriors) what does a singular win mean. Not a Championship, or Playoff game just a normal regulation win in the regular season
#chit chat#love you ren#arch had a good answer too but I didn’t want to add on to that#but yeah I haven’t enjoyed watching games I know we’re gonna lose especially since we aren’t currently a defy the odds team#Sid and Geno may be attempting to get us into the postseason through sheer force if will but it’s not enjoyable#it’s not good content#if I’m not having a fun time what is the point of watching sports#there’s so many other things I can do that will bring me joy#it sucks when the main hyperfixation isn’t bringing me joy but I’m learning to let go rather than spiral
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#word vomit alert!!!!!#i love solo trips out bc i get to do whatever i like without having to make conversation with people but omg.......#this trip has evoked alarming levels of loneliness and melancholy for some reason#maybe it's got something to do with just seeing Too Many People at once... and seeing people live their lives and enjoy company#n then i see myself n while i see an independent carefree person who's at peace with herself there's also a tinge! of! melancholy n pining..#for companionship... for easy conversations... for connections!#i was also listening to Fourever while roaming around aimlessly and when Happy started playing i immediately teared up#i think i just have too many things on my mind djskfksmmdskkd i need to get back to journaling n meditating. too much anxious energy#also during dinner i sat next to a couple who seemed to be on their first date post dating app conversation. n it reminded me of my prev rs#dkfkfnmsfndnmdm i wouldn't call it ptsd bc they were good memories but personally i would most likely never use a dating app ever again.....#it's just too much pain having to talk through icebreakers n get to know each other with the topic of Dating already looming in the bg#n it's just a lot of Work for a first date you know??? anyway i'm tired of relationships. i would love organic platonic companionship tho#like i would love more friends. just not a Partner shdkfjdndndmd#but with that said !!!! it's sometimes lonely being single. but the thing is. there's no company that i'd prefer more than my own#i bring too much joy and peace to myself that i feel like it's almost impossible for anyone to meet those standards#it's very much like that tiktok where op said her app guy asked her who his competition was and she answered: Myself. your competition is me#and that was just the truest thing i've seen#also met an unkind worker at dinner. wasn't directed at me but the energy he gave off was just so Bad that it ruined my evening KDKDJSKDK#like . how can someone be so miserable n unkind n mean to the people around him??? as if they aren't deserving of respect... it boggles me#n so todays trip has been so . strange. i felt sad! witnessed unkindness! i felt a little lonely!#i unknowingly self-reflected a lot n probably spiralled into a rumination cycle! thought abt work n how it seemed like there was No Way Out#but !! it is what it is!!!
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Not to be a jingfu on main, but it's so cute that Jing Yuan thought of Fu Xuan with those jelly beans
#me: the Xianzhou characters are all just coworkers#also me whenever anyone is shown to be fond and have intimate knowledge of some other character: awwww#Like Fu Xuan and Jing Yuan playing starchess and teasing each other or making a reference to things they like#or Jing Yuan talking about young Yukong#Quingque apparently disliking Fu Xuan but obviously that not being the case‚ knowing what she likes and how she thinks#Fu Xuan hiding that she has a sweet tooth but Jing Yuan and Quingque knowing it and teasing her for it#I don't know. There are a lot of instances of these small intimate details in the middle of what looks like a coworker relationship#Good coworkers‚ but coworkers nonetheless#And ironically it moves me so much? Even more so than Belobog. I've been told several times that Belobog seemed more tight. And I agree#In Belobog people were friends or family or companions but linked by something closer than mere coworkers with Wildfire#Even Sampo in the Underworld was strangely 'theirs'. He had the magenta colour of Wildfire and he was trusted to some extent#The Luofu characters don't have that. And yet the fragments of intimacy scattered through their interactions move me a lot#These are people who have known each other for centuries. Jing Yuan knows of Yukong's youth‚ its joy and grief#He knows Fu Xuan has a sweet tooth and teases her about her height. Quingque does too#Fu Xuan chastises both of them for being lazy but she knows they're smart and good at their job. She plays starchess with Jing Yuan#Quingque mocks Fu Xuan for being a workaholic but is very aware of the weight she carries both in her position and ideas about destiny#I won't mention Yanqing and Bailu because there is obviously more than a coworker bound when it comes to them#But yes I love the moments of intimate knowledge scattered through the Xianzhou‚ so telling of the fact that these people have known#each other for longer than several human lifetimes‚ and that perhaps they don't necessarily regard each other as more than their coworker#But perhaps that's enough in order for them to care. Perhaps in a lifetime over one thousand years the intimacy gained with a coworker#through several centuries is something beyond what we could understand in our decades lifespan#But also‚ perhaps‚ I don't know. Also‚ perhaps‚ the do care beyond coworkers in that strange line between work and friendship#Perhaps it's strange for Xianzhou natives to tell apart that kind of relationship after so much intimacy and knowledge through the years#And perhaps‚ once again‚ as it often happens for them‚ they think they'll always have enough time to tell; until they run out of it#They play chess together. Quingque can lose time because Fu Xuan can't stay mad if she brings her sweets. Are they just coworkers?#We play chess. I know what tea and sweets you like best. I brought them today since you would indulge me and play starchess with me#Thanks for playing with me‚ I'm running out of book puzzles. You keep divining my moves but I'll invent a fake story to distract you#Are we coworkers or something more like friends? Where is the line after so many years?#I talk too much but I love this charged nothingness haha I find it ironically so true to how many relationships in real life develop#And I find it so moving‚ that representation of this endearing smallness of everyday life. Of these small things is life made
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list of possible netscapenavigaytor tags:
something kind of insane and only tangentially relevant
talking about fictional character
hopefully genuinely thoughtful insight and commentary to the post at hand
deeply baring my soul for the whole fucking world to see
"this is so fucking swag awesomesauce badass"
#error 0#honestly i dont think i could ever totally click with any social media type site that doesnt let me make tons of commentary#without it getting in the way of others' blogging#i have so many thoughts! i have so many things to say!#i dont know how anyone can just silently reblog posts; are there no words in your head or do you prefer to keep them to oneself?#i dont say this as a statement of judgement of course becasue everyone lives the ultimate bloging their own way#but i cant imagine being given what is basically a free ''put commentary that doesnt interrupt the post'' box on every post#and then NOT using it constantly all the time#of course there are pros and cons to this - it is nice to have a diary of my thoughts but also at the same time#many things i say are a tad embarrassing to look back on.#but i would rather they continue to exist. i deleted too much of the picture of myself when i was much younger and i regret it dearly#but i promised to myself i wont obliterate the me i was in the past anymore. even if i say something embarassing#oh look here it is again - me talking too long tangentially related baring my soul in the tags#i like to spin around and talk in public to no one in particular in a place where no reply is necessarily Expected!#where i will be perceived but no other expectations exist. i get shy about it sometimes but#there's a sort of joy i get out of just logging my thoughts and feelings into this silly little blog!#and while i suppose it does not matter too much if it doesnt since i do this for myself#i do hope my rambles bring some small joy or entertainment to my followers#i mean i certainly must imagine the tags must be what you follow me for if ur not one of my personal friends LMAO#given how themeless and arbitrary this blog is#actually im curious now - if you read this far and youre not following me Just because we're friends#then what DO you follow me for? very interested to know#ok i need to go eat something i post this now and stop talking until i eat.
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((NOTE: i was going to keep this in tags but decided not to :3) this was such a common word and thing in 2000s to 2010s fandom spaces, especially anime fandom spaces. like you could not go to a convention or open deviantart or even tumblr without seeing at least one mention of the word- ''glomp me'' signs and shirts everywhere, cosplayers and internet friends running up to each other just to hug on sight at meets, artists online drawing and animating their ocs doing this with their friends' ocs or making bases of anime screenshots of characters doing the exact thing, getting dms and replies and comments with just a simple *glomps u* thrown in there. you would see such a specific kind of closeness and joy in these people, and frankly it upsets me deeply knowing it as a phrase and term in fandom ...is almost completely gone :( so yknow what! im glad you discovered this word! bring back glomping or whatever yknw? lets have more fun in fandom spaces and be silly together okay? :D
I just....I just learned that there's a word in the English language...for when you run into someone to hug them with all the enthusiasm and strength you have....I learned that it's called glomp.
My God, English has so many words to describe physical intimacy, I'm in love
#as funny as it can be *at times* it really sucks that people on here give others shit for finding things others older than them-#-(or those who just happened to be at least vaguely around for this stuff) would have known/known about#we should be happy! let's let fandom spaces heal more man#its so boring here now and so much fighting and ''discourse'' n all that bs#can we plz just have fun here for a second lol#bring back that special and certain closeness old fandom had please please please#i miss being hugged at cons and being actually talked to and complimented and all those interactions#all others do now is wander and stick to the same few friends and people- buy shit- then leave. :/#even convention cosplay meets and fandom meets are a dying thing#its all so antisocial now even in a public space. lets be kinder to each other more :3#anyway op im so glad i saw this post because it unlocked so many memories you have NO idea#the level of joy this brought me makes me so damn happy so THANK YOUUU <3 *glomps u*#proxxtalx
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Working in the yarn shop on Sundays, I have a group of regulars who come in specifically then for my advice on their knitting projects and over the years I've gotten to know a lot about them - their ailments and their spouses and their children and their careers and their mothers are all things they find themselves telling me about over the course of trying to bring forth a knitted piece. Most of them are women, most of them are over 50, and most of them have been through a lot and are trying to reclaim something for themselves through the act of creation. A while back, one of these older women opened up to me about how when she first came to this country it was just her and her daughter and they were so happy until her husband joined them, when he promptly began making her miserable. Now, decades later, all her children live far away, she spends all her time taking the husband to dialysis, her sciatic is bad and she may need heart surgery (who will take care of her, I find myself wondering), and she comes to see me once a month or so to talk about a new project and tells me it is the only thing she does for herself.
Today she came in with a smile on her face and delightedly introduced me to her son, who will soon move closer to home with his family. Then she says, as if commenting on the weather, that on Friday her husband died, and tomorrow they will hold the funeral. For a second I had tonal whiplash from the conversation and then I realized, oh, you're unburdened now. Like the relief in her face and her body were palpable. The son shows a picture of a cardigan to me and asks if it can be knitted, and we pick out yarn and a pattern. She's so excited to make it for him. She beams when she looks at him; he is tall and handsome and polite, and wants to wear something she made for him. She is proud of this man she raised.
It just made me think of the many, many women who come from cultures where leaving a crappy spouse isn't an option so they shuttle along doing their best and trying to find some beauty and joy in whatever way they can. Kids may not visit often because their spouse isn't welcoming or there is bad blood, so they are lonely. I remind her, we have our social group. She hasn't come to it much before because she is always taking him to dialysis, but now she says she will come often and meet the other women. Many of them are like her, but in the craft they find companionship that has been absent for so much of their lives. I hope there will be renewal for this dear lady and that she can learn more about herself and what brings her joy.
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Lord give me energy today eueueue
#dora daily#sm things piling up but my brain says NO#I can’t even do basic things 😭#it’s genuinely so hard to talk to others#aaaaaaah#the reason is bc I’ve forced myself into contentment with the prospect of being alone cause there’s just so much I can do that would bring#me joy in solitude but#that’s what I’ve always been doing part of the reason I talk a lot is bc that’s how I am in my head#like things firing at 100miles per second bc that’s how I used to keep myself entertained when I was younger#when everyone would have buddies and I wouldn’t#and it works now bc everyone takes ten business days to reply that it’s completely made me genuinely grossed out of social interaction#but I can’t live in La La land forever#pls if only kaveh existed I wouldn’t need another means of socialisation eueeuue#everyone is so impossible to understand; coming from a girl who has always been called utterly INSANE for how hard she hyper focuses on#small cues and signals and detecting discomfort and whatnot. I turn my brain off for one second and yet again the same shit happens it’s so#unfair that everyone can be relaxed and I ought to be on high alert 24/7#I also find it hilarious and pathetic when people pretend to be people smart but they’re really not … it’s genuinely embarrassing#like bitch when you get to my level then we will talk istg …#Istg if this is the autism thing everyone’s been telling me im screwed cause#I don’t want yet another issue#but it’d make sense like how people seem to draw away despite there being nothing wrong with me#how people tend to agree with everything someone else says but the moment I do it it’s heinous#how I have physically had to learn social cues and trial and error#with the errors altering my brain chemistry#that unwavering sense of justice that makes me so very uncomfortable if not fulfilled that I shut up about so I can actually hold down#friends. God knows how every interaction I have with a person is so orchestrated so almost artificial and ‘yes-man’ core that I don’t even#believe said person likes ME bc idek who I am and bc if I don’t agree w#everything no matter how many times someone says I won’t get mad …. trust me they do they’re all liars and manipulators even if they don’t#intend to#the scary fascinations I’ve had when younger
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Children Once Again : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris
summary: when you’re invited to the f1 as an ambassador the last face you expect to see is that of your childhood best friend
˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
liked by mclaren, landonorris and 792,057 others
ynusername: such an honour to be in monza to watch the grand prix, thank you so much to mclaren for the awesome hospitality 🧡
68,472 comments
username1: no way you finally for to go to a race!
mclaren: it was an honour to welcome you and host you at your very first f1 race 🧡
username2: hope you had the best time ever yn ❤️
kendalljenner: told you that you’d absolutely love it 😂
ynusername: @/kendalljenner I should’ve listened to you!
username3: ngl she seemed to be really close with lando when they were around the paddock together!
oscarpiastri: thank you for being such an awesome guest to have with us this weekend!
username4: papaya really suits you btw yn 😉
username5: and you got to go to monza too, that’s one of the best races on the circuit!!!
landonorris: can’t believe we finally got to see each other again, let’s not leave it so long next time 😂
ynusername: @/landonorris you’re still just as annoying as ever 😂
username6: wait wtf is going on here…did they already know each other??
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˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*
liked by oscarpiastri, kendalljenner and 837,018 others
ynusername: never in a million years did I think I’d get reunited with this guy, nearly 14 years later and we’re back together again 🥹
71,950 comments
username7: wait so they were friends at school and reconnected? omg that’s adorable
username8: see the f1 really does change lives 😂
georgerussell63: how you managed to put up with him growing up is crazy to me!
ynusername: @/georgerussell63 it was hard work at times 😂
username9: I can just imagine them causing so much trouble when they were younger!!
landonorris: 14 years to make up for but the rest of our lives to be back together causing mischief again!!
username10: look at how happy lando looks to be back with her again
mclaren: we’re so pleased we could unknowingly bring the two of you back together again 🧡
ynusername: @/mclaren I owe you guys so much for inviting me in the first place
username11: this is just the sweetest story ever 😭
oscarpiastri: at least I don’t have to listen to you guys reminiscing anymore 🙄
username12: so happy they got to reunite together 🥺
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liked by danielricciardo, ynusername and 2,038,173 others
landonorris: a dream weekend with my childhood best friend, still feeling just like big kids and like we’ve never not been each other’s lives 🥹
73,067 comments
username13: and you’re sure she’s just a friend are you???
alex_albon: these photos suggest you’ve had more than just a dream weekend to me
username14: you can just tell how fond of her lando still is 😭
danielricciardo: yeah, sure “just” friends 😉
username15: who is buying a friend flowers that are that nice!?
ynusername: you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me so easily this time around!
landonorris: @/ynusername good because I don’t want you to go anywhere anyway 🥺
username16: I don’t want these two to go their separate ways again 💔
maxverstappen1: you’ve known me since we were kids and yet you don’t hug me like that 🤨
landonorris: @/maxverstappen1 stop reading so much into things 🙄
username17: you’re not kidding anyone norris 😂
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liked by oscarpiastri, georgerussell63 and 782,607 others
ynusername: the first photo was lando when I surprised him at the race, now compare that to the last one after spending four hours with me 😂🧡
73,058 comments
username18: they couldn’t even stay away from each other for more than a week!!
maxverstappen1: I can so see why you two were the best of friends after meeting you 😂
username19: just look at how excited he is to see her 🥺
danielricciardo: it was a joy to meet you here and hear so many childhood stories of lando’s!!
username20: ofc cause only a friend would do something like this right??
landonorris: stop lying to people, I really was happy to have you here for the whole time 😂
ynusername: @/landonorris that’s why you banished me to the paddock for most of the afternoon 👀
username21: it breaks my heart knowing they spent so long apart when they seem to get on so well…
carlossainz55: it was fun embarrassing lando with you for the whole weekend!!!!
ynusername: @/carlossainz55 I had no idea he was still as stupid as he was back in school 🤦🏻♀️
username22: he loves spending time with you really yn 😂
oscarpiastri: I’m sure I saw him shed a tear when you told him you had to go
landonorris: @/oscarpiastri definitely tears of joy!!
username23: we really missed out on this friendship for so many years!
alex_albon: still sticking with the friendship storyline I see…
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ynusername just posted two stories
replies
alex_albon: if you went out with one you’d be a true passenger princess!
ynusername: when do you plan on letting this go??
username24: can you two just hurry up and date already?
georgerussell63: look at how handsome he is yn, you can’t deny it 😂
username25: put us out of our misery please and just announce it!
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danielricciardo: why are you two kids holding hands!?
username26: I still refuse to accept that you two are just friends!
username27: are you playing us all by pretending to just be friends?
charles_leclerc: when will you two just wake up and see it??
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liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 2,492,613 others
landonorris: don’t tell her but I secretly loved her back in school all those years ago, and I guess it’s fair to say I still love her just as much now ❤️
203,362 comments
username28: finally they’ve given us what we wanted for so long 👏🏻
alex_albon: can’t believe you tried to convince me that you two weren’t dating 🙄
oscarpiastri: couldn’t be happier for the two of you 🥰
username29: these two are the perfect reason as to why you should believe in destiny 😭
danielricciardo: this might just be the worst kept secret in the world!!
carlossainz55: i feel like I’ve watched a movie watching your romance unfold 🥺
username30: the fact he’s always been in love with her melts me 🫠
charles_leclerc: well aren’t you guys just the cutest 😭
username31: please don’t ever lose contact with each other again!
georgerussell63: you guys are perfect for each other, so pleased you managed to find one another again
username32: all these years and yet none of us knew that he actually only ever had eyes for her…
mclaren: congratulations to you both, secretly we’re taking all the credit for this 🧡
landonorris: @/mclaren you guys can absolutely take credit, thank you for inviting yn all those weeks ago!
username33: this is the kinda romance that everyone dreams of, only this time it actually came true 🧡
ynusername: it was only ever you 💞
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#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris imagine#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula one#formula 1 x you#f1 reaction#formula one imagine#lando norris social media#lando norris smau#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando norris au#lando norris x reader#formula x reader#formula 1 social media#formula one x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 smau#formula one smau#f1 fluff#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#f1 x you
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“itadori, please respect his personal space—”
“kugisaki! stop hitting him—”
“megumi, don’t you dare bring that elephant out in my classroom—”
peace and quiet is short-lived whenever the first years are around.
you manage to quiet them down with the threat of assigning an essay, allowing you a moment’s respite to massage your temples and lean back in your seat, glancing at your phone to check just how many minutes you have left with them.
a notification pops up as you do, bringing on a whole new headache.
[satoru]: send nudes?
you quickly turn your phone over so it’s screen-down, face burning as you look around to make sure no one had seen.
peace and quiet is also short-lived whenever satoru calls out sick. because the strongest sorcerer of your time…currently has a cold.
he is, predictably, very dramatic whenever he’s sick. a mild fever means he puts himself on bedrest. a sore throat means he needs to be spoon fed a very specific homemade soup.
but the worst…oh, the worst is when he has a cold.
when satoru’s sinuses are clogged, he’s an absolute menace to deal with. his sneezes shake the apartment and his whines about sinus pressure are all you hear at the dinner table.
luckily, the students have resorted to quietly bothering each other, so you slowly turn your phone back around to deal with the man child who is likely littering the living room floor with tissues.
he’s stuck at home, which means he’s got nothing to do but annoy you.
[satoru]: haha jk
[satoru]: unless…?
huffing, you quickly type back a response.
[you]: NOT funny. i’m at work.
[satoru]: so what you’re saying is you’ll send them during lunch right ;)
“miss!” itadori shouts, his arm raised. “can fushiguro come to the arcade with us after class?”
“of course,” you say. “but please don’t forget to finish your essays on cursed technique origins. it’s due on monday.”
yuuji’s practically bouncing in his seat as he grabs megumi’s arm. hear that, fushiguro? you hear as you pick up your phone. your mom said yes!
megumi, who usually comes home on the weekends, still looks to you for approval. you assure him with a small nod and smile.
sometimes you just want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go. he may have been another couple’s blessing, but ultimately he’s yours and gojo’s pride and joy. possibly the only one you have left, as it stands.
thought you’re a little sad that he won’t be home for dinner tonight, you remind yourself that he’s growing up. for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a sort of lone wolf. but a lone wolf is still a wolf, and a wolf needs a pack.
he’s finally found friends he’s comfortable with, and it’s good that he wants to spend time with them and vice versa.
your phone buzzes insistently in your hand.
[satoru]: pleeeeeaaaase?
[satoru]: i think it’ll really help with my recovery…
[satoru]: if this cold kills me the last thing i want to see is a picture of you
oh, that’s actually kind of—
[satoru]: nude, preferably
maybe it’s a good thing megumi won’t be home tonight. you don’t need any witnesses to the crime you’re about to commit.
[you]: what’ll help with your recovery is a visit to the infirmary.
there’s a short pause, then you watch the little bubble appear and disappear about six times.
[satoru]: shit
[satoru]: is this a scene?
you roll your eyes, waving at the kids as they head out to catch the train.
[you]: i hate you
he doesn’t answer, so you get up to hurry over to your office, shutting and locking the door behind you.
you wait a moment, opening the camera on your phone as you do so.
once the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall disappears, you start unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt—
you scream when a loud sneeze startles you, satoru suddenly appearing at your side.
he doesn’t miss a beat, plucking a tissue from your desk and blowing his nose loudly. he throws it in the general direction of the bin before slapping his palm onto your desk.
you can tell he’s attempting to be some sort of seductive, but it’s dampened bu the way he sniffles loudly, his face a little red.
“hello, doctor,” he says, a lazy grin spread across his face. “i’m here for my physical.”
“honey,” you laugh, gently cupping the sides of his face. “you need to rest.”
“but ‘m not tired,” he pouts, leaning in to nose at your neck. his skin is warm against yours, much too warm for your liking.
you tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “since i’m your doctor, i’m prescribing a nap.”
“a nap does sound kind of nice…”
he gets up, taking your hand and dragging you over to the couch with him. he locks you within his embrace, sighing contentedly as he presses you to his chest.
“wait, satoru i have to supervise the second years’ training—”
it’s too late. he’s already asleep, snoring loudly in your ear.
so you take out your phone and text nanami, asking if he can cover for you this afternoon.
because a sick satoru is a needy satoru, and you won’t be leaving this couch for a while.
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𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄.
༺ cregan stark x fem!northern!reader.
SYNOPSIS: a longtime friend of cregan stark, you seek him out to train you with a longsword. though, a duel in the wolfswood leaves you with more of a desire for other things instead of swordplay.
anonymous request.
༺ FORMAT: one-shot — requested.
༺ WORD COUNT: 9.3K.
༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, sexual tension, mutual possessiveness, size difference / size kink, cregan is much bigger than the reader, dominant cregan, cregan is a big, brooding hunk, sexually-charged dueling, p in v sex (unprotected), multiple positions, all stark men have a breeding kink, neck biting / marking (biting in general), rough sex, cunnilingus / oral sex (fem!receiving), hair pulling, fingering, groping, light bruising, mild manhandling, soft ending & soft aftercare.
༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: You can tell that I’m inspired because I’m putting out fanfics at the pace of a madman. I absolutely loved this request, huge thanks to the anon who gave me this wonderful idea and allowed me to bring it to life! ❤️ I loved writing for Cregan and I definitely wouldn’t mind doing so again! Thank you to all the love & support, you all mean the world to me! Enjoy!
“𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 — 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫.”
Lord Cregan Stark’s usual stoicism held a vast amount of protectiveness, the desire to better you in the right way, the Northern way. You had been taught all about swordplay by your father, but through the years, as you grew into your place as Lady of Barrowton, your skills had declined.
Ladies of your station were admonished for possessing any inclination of violence — a woman could not hold a sword, she could only hold an embroidery needle. A woman could not rule, only guide the men that do, and a woman could not become tempestuous, for it meant that she was simply a bad product or undesirable.
Thankfully, Cregan defied all expectations and pledged to teach you, hone your skills again from the ground up, if necessary. You could not be anymore grateful to him for assuming that mantle when he didn’t have to.
Your longstanding relationship with the Warden of the North, Cregan Stark, was the byproduct of many childhood years spent together — it was often you, Cregan, and his late younger brother. A deadly trio, to be sure, running through the Wolfswood and terrorizing Winterfell with typical childish antics.
The joy of youth had begun to run dry — you were nine-and-ten now, Cregan one-and-twenty, ruling over the entirety of the North. Your father was Lord Roderick Dustin, Lord of Barrowton and an infamous fighter, bannerman to House Stark. Of course, his duties were often torn between Barrowton and Winterfell, and so you were left in the care of your uncle.
Learning to fight again as a man would involve many hours and countless sessions held within the Godswood behind the Great Keep. It was only a handful of times each week, provided that Cregan was able to attend despite the rest of his duties.
His closest advisors had beseeched him to abandon teaching you, to let it die and rest with those with more time on their hands. Cregan refused to leave you in the hands of a less capable swordsman — what good was that, letting you learn the wrong way?
A crow’s cry reverberated throughout the Wolfswood, the beat of a flock soaring through the heavily wooded hills. Your sessions inevitably relocated from the Godswood to here, to allow for the cover of privacy and a lack of wandering eyes.
Hardened earth had turned damp and muddy in the presence of a deluge days before, certainly not sturdy ground for true fighting, but it would prove to be a challenge for the both of you. Rain wasn’t common in the North, but it proved to be quite a nuisance whenever it fell — and it fell hard.
He was under great scrutiny for doing this anyway, and Cregan preferred to keep the lectures of old men at-bay for a time, if he could. The young Lord sat beneath the sprawling branches of a massive oak tree, his horse tethered several feet away.
Using a sharpening stone, he turned dull steel into razor-sharp weapons, abandoning the practice swords he often brought with him whenever he met with you. That happened to be another point of contention — meeting with a young maiden, alone in the woods, without any chaperone.
Cregan would never tarnish your honor or sully your dignity — betrothal was inevitable for a man of his station, but he wanted to forget about it. Things were easier when it was just the two of you, sparring in the woods — he did not feel so weighed-down by duty, by leadership.
He felt less like the Warden of the North and simply Cregan Stark.
The mantle of leadership had become heavier with the visit of Jacaerys Velaryon, Prince of Dragonstone, asking that he supply his mother’s armies with Northmen. House Stark was an honorable one — he wasn’t about to break vows of fealty sworn before the late King Viserys to make his daughter heir.
It meant that war was on the horizon, a war that would involve himself and his people, a war that held the potential to rip the realm asunder. Cregan had prepared himself for a time like this, when oaths and honor transcended old traditions. Whatever storm was approaching, he was prepared to face it head-on.
His head lifted from admiring polished steel, gray eyes searching for the dappled coat of your horse as it thundered through the Wolfswood. His heart felt lighter when his gaze found you, guiding your steed toward his own to tether it to a sturdy branch.
Love was a dangerous thing, just as perilous as any war fought by men — both on different fronts. Cregan had lost plenty in his life, and he feared losing you. This friendship you had, it almost seemed to take on a life of its own, abandoning the line of propriety and molding into something else, something affectionate.
Cregan didn’t know what he felt for you, but he knew that it wasn’t anything a friend should feel.
Despite the bitter chill of the North, the day was temperate enough, one where he didn’t feel the desire to wear a heavy cloak or layer himself in furs. The adrenaline of swordplay often got his blood rushing anyway, and he would be hot by the time this was all said and done.
The cheer and excitement you often felt was displayed so openly upon your face, lips curled into a bright smile. Cregan had teased you for being too amiable for a Northerner, but admittedly, he looked forward to seeing your sweet countenance and sparkling eyes. There was a warmth you possessed, a warmth hot enough to keep him comfortable when in your presence.
“Dour, as always,” You hummed, dismounting from your gelding with a look of mild amusement. You abandoned the lengthy silks and pretty dresses of a maiden whenever you came to train, outfitted with leather armor that seemed somewhat ill-fitting on you. “I wish to see you smile, Cregan.”
With a sardonic huff, a twinkle reached Cregan’s stormy-gray eyes as he looked to you, brows furrowing together. “I suppose you caught me on an odd day,” He replied, placing the sharpening stone upon the pillar of flat rock he sat atop. “Duties of the Warden of the North.” He sighed, turning his eyes toward the dismal skies.
You could detect his stress from where you stood, moving closer to him until you reached the smooth rock, taking a seat at his side. “Something is wrong,” You stated. Despite the constant banter you shared, you were still friends — Cregan wore his exhaustion on his sleeve in moments of vulnerability. “What is it?”
His shoulders rolled in a shrug, letting the blade of his longsword turn downward into the dirt, its weight resting against his thigh. “Winter is here,” Cregan murmured, countenance etched with a somber look. “War is brewing in the South. I am torn on two fronts.”
The conflict between Rhaenyra and King Aegon II — you knew of it. The realm was prepared to rip itself apart instead of seeing a woman’s ascension, something that you felt a great deal of sympathy for. “What will you do?” You inquired, able to see the furling of tension within his body, even beneath his sparring leathers.
“Uphold the oath made before King Viserys I, and before the realm,” Cregan replied, his eyes filled with something stern and solemn. He would never break an oath — it wasn’t something Northerners took lightly. “We swore to see the ascension of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and we shall fulfill it. I’ve pledged two-thousand greybeards to send South, when the time comes.”
The admiration you felt for Cregan only grew tenfold — it was the Cregan Stark that you had felt affection for, grown fond of. He was honorable, a gentle yet powerful man who wielded leadership with thoughtfulness and integrity. Your lips curled into a warm smile, as smoldering as a summer’s eve as you reached his arm.
“You’re a good man, Cregan.” It was all that needed to be said. There were plenty more sentiments conveyed in your softening stare alone — many things left unspoken, but some of it boiling beneath the surface.
A soft huff escaped him before he shook his head, dismissing your praise with a shrug of his shoulder. “I do what any honorable man would do,” He murmured, but the both of you knew it wasn’t true. Cregan showed great humility even when he didn’t need to. He moved to his feet, holding a longsword in each hand. “But we didn’t come here to speak of a grim future.”
The noticeable difference in stature was a point of teasing between the both of you, and one that Cregan took full advantage of. You stood across from him, head canting to one side. “The only grim future that I see is your face, my Lord.” You chimed, and he let out a mirthful scoff at your prodding and playful use of his title.
He stepped closer, offering you the glimmering blade of a longsword. Your surprise was noteworthy, and he very nearly made a comment, electing to hold his tongue. Cregan knew how to handle a blade — he was a talented swordsman, seasoned and experienced despite his age.
“These are real,” You stated, feeling the weight of the blade within your hand. You half expected the practice swords, but this was a welcome surprise. “Do you think that this is wise?” Admittedly, there was a pang of fear at the thought of swinging a real sword. What if you accidentally maimed him?
Cregan huffed, visage one of stoicism despite the amusement that crept into his stern, Northern timbre. “You’ll have to learn to leave the play-fighting behind, my Lady,” He murmured, watching as you white-knuckled the hilt. He was surprised that your hand didn’t rip apart. “Don’t hold it too tight.”
With a sharp exhale, you glanced at Cregan, whose gray eyes were akin to the onslaught of a winter storm, dark-chestnut tresses framing his face. He was beginning to grow a bit of scruff on his face, likely a byproduct of the stress of his duties.
He was handsome — Northern perfection made flesh and bone, a gentle mountain of a man. In your youth, you had always fancied Cregan to some degree, but his birthright often prevented you from acting on impulse. Then again, it was best left as a fantasy.
You froze when his hand wrapped around yours, calloused digits forcing your grip to loosen. “Don’t keep your hands together,” Cregan rumbled, repositioning your grip — one toward the top of the hilt, and the other closer to the pommel. “You’re acting as if this is day one.” He challenged, and that got your attention.
“It’s heavier,” You murmured, recoiling away with a disdainful expression. Cregan knew that he was beginning to get a rise out of you, lips twitching into the ghost of a smirk. “It’s not as easy to handle as the swords we used before.”
“Did you expect a longsword to weigh as much as a feather?” Cregan inquired, attempting to smother his amusement when you rolled your eyes at him. He prepared himself, squaring up into an attack formation, handling his ancestral blade with ease.
A scoff escaped you, and you mirrored his stance, holding the blade to the best of your ability. There was a burn in your arms from the newfound weight, but you pretended that it didn’t bother you. “I might throw this feather at you.” You grumbled, and at last, that earned you a brief chuckle from Cregan.
“Ready yourself,” He warned, circling you with steady steps. Cregan knew that he wouldn’t hold back for your sake — you were strong enough to take it. You insisted upon it many times before, even if he was initially reluctant to do so. “Don’t hold back.”
With a soft grunt, you brazenly charged at Cregan, hoping that it would catch him by surprise. He seemed to be expecting this, nimbly dodging your sloppy charge as he stepped to the side. You swiveled around, blades clanging together as they reverberated throughout the Wolfswood.
The silver of steel glinted within the pale rays of sunlight glistening through the canopy above. Cregan maintained a stalwart expression, though it began to crack at the seams as you swung again. He parried the blow, shuffling within the fallen leaves and damp earth.
“You’re swinging like a drunkard,” Cregan quipped, knowing that you were smarter than this. In one smooth stroke, he shoved you aside, grabbing the bicep of your sword arm. “Don’t fight like one.” He grunted, brows furrowing together as you struggled within his ironclad grasp.
In a brief stroke of genius, you smacked Cregan’s side with the pommel of your longsword, causing him to loosen his hold as you shimmied away. He let out a grunt, watching as you quickly made distance. It was a dirty fighting tactic — he most certainly didn’t teach you that.
The flash of a triumphant smile crept onto your features, but not before the King in the North charged forth, the both of you bringing your swords up. Something blossomed between the both of you, a strange tension fueled by unspoken feelings. Cregan bared his weight down upon you, causing you to maneuver to the side in order to evade him.
There was a fire within his eyes whenever he fought, a spark that turned into a bright flame. Adrenaline made his blood run hot, and the more the two of you brought your swords together, moving about as if it were a dance, the more enticed and invigorated he became.
Cregan found you beautiful, strands of hair sticking to your shimmering temples, framing your creased brow. The concentration written upon your visage was enough to make him pause, admire the intricacies and commit them to memory. Even when you wore men’s garb to spar, you were still enchanting.
You were perfect when fighting, pouring all of your efforts into beating him, if that were a possibility. Cregan didn’t want to doubt you, knowing that you possessed a raging inner fire, a quiet strength that grew with the tenacity of a wolf whenever you were provoked.
Steel ripped against steel, the duel commencing deep within the heart of the Wolfswood. His heart hammered with excitement, breath hot and labored as he parried another one of your quick, flourishing strikes.
He pressed his advance, barreling forward as he began to back you toward the rock underneath a sprawling tree of reddish leaves. Cregan noticed the panicked look in your eyes, the way in which you tried every move he’d taught you to gain distance.
“The wolf descends, my Lady. Think hard,” Cregan rumbled, wanting you to try and get out of this situation. “The enemy will not wait — they will strike, and you will end up here.” You were intelligent, a quick thinker — he wanted you to be smarter than this.
In what you considered to be another dirty tactic, you kicked a mound of damp dirt in his direction, providing enough of a distraction for you to hop the gap. Again, it only seemed to corral you into a corner. You attempted to swing down with an overhead strike, but Cregan very nearly knocked you into the ground.
“Never strike like that again, unless you want a blade through your belly,” He grunted, watching with mild awe as you brought it down to the side instead, forcing him to parry. Both of your blades locked at the side, struggling to maintain your balance. “Good.”
The dance continued, becoming a game of wit — outthinking and outmaneuvering the other, blades clashing again and again. He pressed you back into a corner as he had before, the distance slim. Cregan didn’t want you to yield — he knew that you wouldn’t.
Anticipation grew, and you found yourself weighing the odds. Perhaps you were simply too prideful to surrender to Cregan, even if all of this was a learning moment. Either way, you continued to fend him off with quick slashes of your blade, to no avail.
The rock became dangerously close, nearly brushing against your back as Cregan pressed his advantage. In a stroke of what you deemed as desperate thinking, you lashed out with a mule kick to his sword hand, loosening his grip enough to knock it away.
You shoved him with all of your strength, and much to your own surprise, he fell right into the dirt. Your heart hammered within your chest, and seeing the King of the North strewn across the ground made you feel some sense of victory.
Cregan huffed, brows knitting together as he stared at you from below, quickly recuperating. “I didn’t teach you to fight like a sellsword.” He grunted, but he had to admit, it was good thinking on your end — even if it was dirty and unsportsmanlike.
A smile fluttered across your features as you wiped the sweat from your brow, preparing to assail Cregan with whatever witty blows you could think of. “It wouldn’t hurt you to learn a thing or two.” You mused, canting your head to one side.
With a stoic grunt, Cregan decided to employ a dirty tactic of his own. It was a playful move, acted out without any malice and instead, wanting to hear the end of your teasing. He lashed out with his boot, sweeping your legs right out from underneath you.
Cregan smirked, watching as you buckled and toppled over, though he never intended for you to unceremoniously land right on top of him. You dropped your longsword somewhere along the way, forehead narrowly avoiding smacking into the hard earth. Cregan caught you before that could happen.
With labored breaths, you immediately hit his chest with a light punch, not enough to ever cause any real harm. “What was that for?” You grumbled, realizing how close the both of you were. He was a large man, warm and muscular beneath you.
“I’ve learned a thing or two, my Lady.” Cregan corrected, a twinkle within his stormy-gray eyes. When he fully noticed the compromising position the both of you were in, his breath hitched slightly. There was nothing stopping him from grabbing your hips and kissing you then and there.
Before fantasy could become reality, you hastily rolled off of him, feeling a light sting of arousal growing between your thighs. You wanted to avoid such a disaster — Cregan was your friend, he was the King in the North. To ascend all bonds of propriety and try for something more would be improper.
He stayed on the ground for a moment longer, moving into a sitting position as he shook his head. “Throwing dirt, pommel-striking, and kicking,” Cregan remarked, planting a palm atop his knee. “Have you been training without me?”
“Never,” You wouldn’t dare seek out another swordsman — there were none like Cregan Stark. “I wouldn’t dream of having another teacher,” You hesitated, lips twitching into a bemused smile. “Though, if I am not mistaken, you do sound jealous.”
Cregan happened to stand before you did, outstretching a gloved hand for you to take. You did, murmuring your gratitude as he hauled you up and right into the expanse of his chest, emblazoned with the direwolf of House Stark. There was something indiscernible within his eyes, steely yet softening in sight of you.
The unusual tension had crackled from mere sparks to an open flame, your throat becoming tight as Cregan’s gaze bored into you. His shadow swallowed you whole, wisps of dark, chestnut hair sticking to his face, perspiration glittering across his temples. You still held his hand, watching as his jaw tensed.
“I sound jealous, my Lady?” Cregan rumbled, timbre gentle and thick with his Northern accent. The closer he pressed, the more the reality of the situation dawned upon you, keeping you grounded. You were afraid of resorting to action, afraid that something would happen to tear you both apart.
It was easy to tear down your teasing, playful side to nothing more than a smitten maiden when Cregan huskily addressed you that way. His eyes momentarily flickered across your beautiful features, particularly the soft curve of your mouth, and what little of your neck had been exposed to him.
You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, lips parting as a soft exhale escaped you. “You do,” You whispered, searching his countenance for any sign of discomfort or hesitation. When you found none, you began to lean up, rocking closer than ever before. “Quite jealous.”
Cregan silenced you with a kiss, one that could melt even the hardiest of ice. It was blazing and passionate, yet slow enough to savor the moment. You reciprocated, palms flat atop his chest as he wrapped a thick, bulky arm around your hips, hauling you in until no sliver of space remained.
You kissed him fervently, allowing your many months of smothered affection to boil over. Despite Cregan’s indomitable, intimidating appearance, he was as gentle as they came. He handled you with respect, his other hand coming to seize your waist, kneading into your curves through your sparring leathers.
Tension boiled over, fueling the fire that had been stoked between the both of you for some time. Ravenous was a mere understatement — you wanted Cregan then and there, if he would indulge you. The ground was muddy and certainly no place to bed.
He bit at your lower lip with a grunt, brows furrowed together in concentration. He hunched in on you, bringing you flush against his body, heat replacing the bitter sting of the Northern chill. Cregan was rough, but inherently passionate with how he treated you — no malice, simply a wolf’s hunger.
“Cregan,” You huffed, mouth agape as you attempted to regain your composure. Whatever restraint you had was hanging on by a mere thread, prepared to snap. “I …” Admittedly, you were at a loss for words, still reeling from the shock of having your affections reciprocated.
His mouth pressed against your jaw as he buried his scruffy visage into the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Seems you’re cold, my Lady.” Cregan grunted, feeling the onslaught of gooseflesh that had permeated your skin, continuing to prickle along your spine.
With a brief chuckle, you reached for his chestnut tresses, tugging on his hair in order to bring him closer. “Fortunately, I have the King in the North to keep me warm,” You hummed, gasping when he brazenly groped at your haunch, strong hands kneading into you. “I want you, if you’ll have me.”
“Here?” Cregan uttered, timbre deliciously thick and husky with desire. Even if he wanted to claim you for himself, he would’ve taken you somewhere warmer, somewhere comfortable. “You’re no animal, my Lady. I wouldn’t fuck you into the dirt like one.” He rumbled, able to taste your yearning.
Honorable and gallant — you only wanted him more after that. As much as you desired to rip your armor off and let him have his way with you upon the rock, the mud and grime afterward wouldn’t have been pleasant. “Your chambers, then?” You mumbled, feeling his warm lips clamor from your jaw to your mouth.
“If that’s what you want,” Cregan murmured, a playful smirk toying at either corner of his mouth. It shattered his stoic countenance, melting away all of those dour inclinations he held before. “You might change your mind, and I wouldn’t fault you for it.”
A huff escaped you, brows furrowing together as you shook your head. Cregan thoroughly enjoyed that you spoke bluntly and plainly — he wanted you more than you realized, keeping his composure for the sake of propriety. There was no telling what could happen once you reached Winterfell.
“I will meet you at Winterfell.” Your answer was clear, solidified in stone. You appreciated that Cregan had given you an out, but that was the last thing you wanted. He gave you another kiss, teeth nicking your lower lip before you retrieved your longsword and mounted your horse.
Cregan watched you ride off from the Wolfswood — the new Lady of Winterfell.
A cold dusk cast its looming shadow over Winterfell, and with it, bringing the sting of ice and a light snowfall. Clouds made their presence known, gray and ominous, covering up the stars until none remained. Snowfalls in the North often ranged between fleeting and treacherous, and tonight seemed to be somewhere in the middle.
Following your dance in the Wolfswood with Cregan, the ride back to Winterfell gave you plenty to consider. You found his hesitation to be noble, but you had made your mind up some time ago. The moment where friendship now transcended into something else had come, and you knew what you wanted.
Perhaps you had kept him in suspense on purpose, waiting until the rest of the Great Keep was silenced before you made the tenuous trek to Cregan’s chambers. You had cleaned up perfectly well, clad in thick, furred robes, ones that left little to the imagination. You assumed that you wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight at all, if Cregan were still intending to follow through.
The doors to his chambers were heavy, embossed wood carved from the thick trunks of Wolfswood oak, the handles resembling the heads of wolves. There was no guard posted outside — there never was.
If anyone knew Cregan at all, it was his staunch independence and his desire for privacy. He was one of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms, and no guard would change such a thing. You stood outside, steeling yourself for what was to come.
Your hand hovered above the wood, palm pressing against it before you knocked thrice, breath hitching slightly at the sound of footsteps from the inside. Nervousness suddenly gripped you — none of this felt real at all, and you were prepared to wake up in some distant dream.
For the longest time, part of you had silently yearned from afar for Cregan, knowing that he would someday take a wife, and it wouldn’t be you. You were just friends, and you were cursed to admire him for all eternity with nothing coming to fruition. You had come to terms with it, but now?
Everything had changed.
He kissed you with a fervor in the Wolfswood, a kiss reserved for lovers — had he felt the same way, as you did? Was it simply the desire to have someone he trusted warm his bed? You were uncertain, and you wanted clarification.
The groan of oak reverberated throughout the stone corridors as Cregan opened the door, standing there, tall and indomitable, a tunic clinging to his chest. You could see so much more of him without the chain-and-leather armor, without the obstruction of a thick hide cloak. His broad shoulders seemed to relax in your presence.
Gods, you looked beautiful — Cregan had seen you dressed up on a handful of occasions, but they all paled in comparison to how you looked now, clad in the pelts of wolves, visage free of dirt. His grip tightened along the edge of the door, an effort to restrain himself from devouring you then and there.
“May I?” You asked, wringing your hands together in order to alleviate some of the tension. Cregan stepped aside, stormy-gray hues transfixed upon you as you crossed the threshold into his chambers. Your heart hammered within your chest as he shut the door, crossing the room to tend to the fire.
“I must know what this is, before we go any further.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, strained and desperate for an answer. “What have years of friendship come to, in your mind?” The question was direct, demanding that he state his intentions.
Cregan appeared perplexed, stepping toward you with a hooded expression. “Was that kiss in the Wolfswood not clear enough, my Lady?” He rumbled, hooking an arm around your hips. “I am a man of honor, and I wouldn’t dare tarnish your own. I am still your friend,” Cregan uttered, reaching up to cup your face, “And I am your lover.”
“If I wanted you to tarnish my honor?” You murmured, watching his countenance contort into a look of desire, as if you were invoking a challenge. Heat radiated from him in waves, sinking into your bones, making residence there. He was comfortable, a mountain of a man who held you so gently.
A brief huff escaped him, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, yet it did not come to fruition. “I would do as my lady commands.” He grunted, pressing a kiss against your jaw. You tasted perfect, if that were even an accurate description.
His honeyed, husky words excited you — his commitment to you was laid bare before you, and you felt a familiar surge of arousal deep within your bones. “No one else?” Possessiveness swelled within you — you wanted Cregan for yourself. If this were to become something serious, you would make it clear.
“I am yours,” Cregan murmured, chestnut brows furrowing together as he made his pledge to you. “And you are mine. I would not have it any other way.” He assured you, calloused hand kneading into the swell of your hip through the thick layer of fur that concealed your body. He wished to see it all for himself.
Your foreheads touched for a moment, and despite the charged, tenuous element of sexuality floating about, you quite enjoyed the tenderness of it. “I am yours, and you are mine.” The pledge was soft-spoken through you lips, prompting Cregan to press a kiss against the top of your head.
Without hesitation, your fingers curled into the coarse fabric of his tunic, gripping tightly as you pulled yourself up for a kiss, but Cregan met you halfway in a frenzy. His kiss was ravenous, filled with a rapturous hunger that did not appear subtle at all.
Gone was the chill of winter, replaced by the burning fire that smoldered between the both of you. He kissed you hard, teeth raking across your lower lip as he hauled you close, until there was no sliver of space left between. There was no shortage of desire or passion either, as Cregan’s hand pushed against the leather ties of your robe, wanting to feel your soft skin underneath.
“Cregan.” You exhaled, shivering when you heard that growl reverberate within his throat. Your hands joined him in their lascivious crusade, untethering the rough leather strings of your gown, loosening it up until it sagged upon your body. You nodded to him, a subtle signal that he could have whatever he wanted.
He pushed the thick material aside, watching as it fell around your feet, softly thudding against the stone. You wore nothing at all underneath, supple and beautiful, skin as soft as silk, all belonging to him. “Expecting something from me, were you?” Cregan murmured, pushing your tresses aside, exposing the expanse of your pretty neck to him.
A soft groan tore past your parted lips, belly filling with a fire that demanded to be extinguished. He pressed a hot trail of kisses along your face, starting there as he began to move downward. “Perhaps.” You huffed, listening to his chest vibrate with a brief bout of laughter. The sound was like music to your ears.
“You’re so beautiful.” He mumbled his praises into your flesh like a prayer. His roughened palm moved to clasp against the nape of your neck, digits reaching for your hair as he brought his mouth to your jaw, teeth and lips working in-tandem.
Cregan shivered when your colder fingertips hitched beneath his tunic, feeling the thick, corded muscle of his torso, the few scars here and there. Your digits toyed with the leather waist of his trousers, skimming upward to flatten your palm against his abdomen.
You moaned when he bit into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, but delicate enough not to break through your skin. He felt along the soft dips and bends of your curves, traveling wherever he pleased until he sank his hands sank your haunches, unable to keep from touching you.
Everything about you invited him in, intentionally or unintentionally. The scent of various herbs and perfumes clung to you, intertwined with that of leather. Each embrace of his mouth was purposeful, burying into the hollow between your shoulder and throat, seeking to make his mark, imprint himself upon you.
He moved enough for you to remove his tunic, assisting in maneuvering the garment off and away from his body. You let it drop to the floor, kicking aside your robes to form a growing pile of garments.
Cregan was perfect — a true Northman, with a hardened body to prove it. He was all thick muscle and strength, sturdy and broad-shouldered. It was refreshing to see a man that didn’t lack in fortitude, and you reached forward, caressing your fingers over the plane of his musculature. He shuddered at your embrace, lips parting slightly.
He kissed you again, devouring your mouth with an unrestrained desire. Even if lust had taken hold, Cregan preferred displays of rough passion instead, wanting to show you just how much you meant to him, the things you did.
A growl stirred within his chest, hands grabbing your hips as he steered you toward the furs in front of the hearth. You reached for his head, tugging on his chestnut tresses as you reciprocated each kiss with one of your own, one that echoed his own fervor.
“Lay down.” He rumbled, gaze simmering with ardor as he watched you descend onto the furs, pelts of direwolves that enveloped you perfectly. Cregan towered over you, lowering himself onto his knees as he pushed your legs aside, bullying himself between them.
You shivered when he kissed your collarbone, roughened palm kneading into the pliant flesh of your thigh. He wanted to savor all of you first, taste you upon his tongue, let your scent linger. Cregan’s mouth was domineering and rough, biting wherever he could, listening to your satisfied whimpers.
“I want to taste you.” Cregan murmured, his voice a husky timbre that sent shockwaves throughout your body, striking at the pit of your stomach. It filled you with a sense of desire, goosebumps cascading along your spine. His inquiry was masked as a statement, but he awaited your approval.
Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded, feeling a lick of excitement trail down until it settled between your thighs. “Please.” It was all you really needed to say, your incendiary gaze alone inciting a rapturous hunger inside of him.
His descent was slow, ensuring that you felt every nip of his teeth, every kiss emblazoning itself upon your flesh. You sighed with passion, meeting his tempestuous, gray-eyed stare, one that smoldered with desire. You reached for his face, fingers sweeping around his jaw, and you watched as he kissed your palm.
The gesture was brief yet sweet, a break in the swelling tide of carnality and wanton need. Cregan pressed a kiss against your collarbone before he continued his downward venture, lips drifting over both of your breasts, hungrily making his mark against your sensitive skin.
A low grunt escaped him when your digits threaded themselves into his tresses instead, finding their purchase at the base of his skull. The warmth of his mouth drifted over your stomach, feeling Cregan bite at your hips, inhaling a gust of your saccharine scent. It drove him wild, the desire to claim you seeping into his bones.
Cregan wasn’t much of a talker during acts of sensuality — he preferred to show you through action, instead. When he made it to the apex of your thighs, he settled against the furs, orange firelight dancing across the taut, thick muscle of his shoulders. He pushed your legs apart, letting them rest across his back, rough hands kneading along your legs.
Your breath hitched within your throat, stomach churning with excitable butterflies and arousal. The slick warmth that had coagulated between your thighs was a welcome sight to Cregan, who felt a twinge of smugness knowing that you’d gotten wet already.
He listened to the tremor within your exhale, the squirming of your body atop the furs, the subtle twitch of your thigh when he bit into the sensitive flesh. You were endlessly soft — velveteen beneath his fingertips. The contrast between his rough palms and your smoothness was a perfect duality.
The gray intensity of his stare left you breathless, and he did not break eye contact as he kissed your slit, prompting you to shiver. His tongue raked hot embers across your aching cunt, deliberate and intentional, driving you to an agonizing madness.
Cregan pulled you closer, a growl ringing within the depths of his throat as he sought your cunt, greedily lapping over your slit. He split past your folds, ravenous for whatever you would give him. It made you moan, hand gripping his hair, hips absentmindedly jolting into the vigor of his mouth.
He seemed so herculean, even now as he rested between your legs, broad shoulders etched with a slight tension. His brow was creased in concentration, a low hum escaping him as he devoured your cunt. Cregan did not have any qualms about staying there, head buried between your thighs.
That taut heat within your stomach had been wound so tight, like a coil threatening to snap in two. His mouth was voracious, lapping and kissing wherever he pleased, with the enthusiasm of a man starved. He was passionate and somewhat rough, occasionally turning to bite into the pliant flesh of your thighs.
“Cregan,” You moaned, writhing beneath him, feeling his strong hands clamp down upon your legs, locking you into place. It was pure bliss and agony all rolled into one, your other hand fisting the thick furs beneath you. “Don’t stop,” A whine tore past your mouth, with the wolf more than willing to oblige. “Don’t stop.”
A huff escaped him, one that filled his belly with a raging fire. His cock throbbed within his leather breeches, aching with want for you. He wasn’t about to let you buck and move at your leisure — he wanted you all to himself. His tongue continued to lap at your cunt with heavy strokes, stoking the flame of your arousal.
You tasted sweet upon his tongue, honey-thick and a feast to sate his appetite. If he would choose his fate, it would be in between your legs, listening to the myriad of moans and throaty whimpers leave you. It was satisfying to know how much you enjoyed this; derived pleasure from it.
A tremor gripped your legs, little spasms of delight making their way throughout your body. Cregan’s mouth forged a blazing path from the hood of your cunt to your entrance, tongue greedy and hot, before he went back up again.
The sound of your soft, pleading voice calling his name made him grunt, digits digging into your thighs, hard enough to leave faint bruises. You enjoyed the display of strength, his desire to mark you, claim you for his own. The wolf festered within him, and you were prepared to submit to him.
Cregan was stoic and dominant, yet those storm-colored hues softened whenever they flickered toward your visage, the image of grace and beauty. You had always been pretty, yet your perfection reared its head fully when you opened yourself up to him. He was enthralled, reduced to a mere pup in your presence.
His mouth pursed around the pearl of your cunt, stimulating that sensitive clutch of nerves. You gasped, the sensation sudden yet blissful, causing your thighs to squeeze his head slightly. Cregan grunted, forcing you apart again, nose grazing your folds.
The growing shadow of his coarse beard scratched against your thighs, providing you with a brief sting — a delicious sting, at that. You had often teased Cregan for being baby-faced, but he had elected to grow out a bit of scruff, and for that, you were grateful.
He wanted to stay there, rooted between your legs, mouth consuming your cunt as if it were his last meal. Cregan favored it, thoroughly reveling in the way your body reacted to him, visceral and ecstatic. He gingerly suckled on your clit, feeling your fingers tighten within his chestnut locks, grip him tight.
The warmth from the hearth danced across your body, illuminating your soft curves and silky skin. Inklings of perspiration began to shimmer against your chest, the fire’s intensity combined with Cregan’s constant body heat. He ran hot, hot-blooded like any Northerner.
His mouth didn’t relent, continuing to suck and kiss at your clit, tongue flicking against your slick entrance. He let one hand drop from your thigh, yet the other still kept you pinned into place. The first stroke of his thick digits against your core made your head spin in a delirium of desire.
Your hips lurched forward, attempting to gain any shred of friction, despite Cregan keeping you locked into place. You felt as if you were going to explode, seeing stars within your vision as his teeth grazed your clit. The sudden sensation made you shiver, hand fisting into his hair.
Cregan teased your entrance, searching your face for any signs of discomfort as his digits worked their way inside of you. You were tight, slick and warm around him as he sluggishly pumped them in and out of you. “That’s it,” He rumbled, grunting when you pulled on his tresses again. “Easy, my lady.” His tone held a playful remnant to it.
A brief huff escaped you, one of mild amusement. The sweetness that ebbed between the both of you soon dissipated into an air of seriousness once again, with Cregan tormenting you, mouth on your clit. He drew each sound out of you with a vengeance, feeling your legs tremble on either side of him.
A comfortable silence filled the gap between you, intermingled with the sounds of your pleasured cries and Cregan’s sonorous grunts. That heated coil within your stomach began to unfurl, bringing an onslaught of arousal with it as you bucked into his mouth.
“Cregan,” You moaned, grabbing his hair so tightly that you feared you might rip it from his scalp. The roughness of it only spurred him on, enjoying your ironclad grasp as he assailed your cunt with careful laps and thrusts of his fingers. “Gods, I’m close!” You huffed, back arching off of the furs.
He wanted to do it to you again — again and again, make your body submit to him. Lust and passion swelled within him, blossoming through his chest, coupled with the possessiveness he felt over you. You belonged to him, now — his Lady of Winterfell, his.
Cregan didn’t intensify his pace or slow down, and instead, continued his ministrations with a sense of fervor and duty. His fingers and mouth worked in a blissful tandem, nose occasionally bumping into the hood of your clit, tongue dancing across your slit. He felt you shudder beneath him.
A flood of sheer ecstasy consumed you, flesh prickling with an overwhelming warmth as you shivered, reaching your climax in a white-hot crescendo. Your back arched completely, head tossed back against the furs, hands wrangling with Cregan’s tresses.
The buzz you felt afterwards was a pleasant feeling, and as you rode out your peak, you sank back into the mounds of wolf’s fur beneath you. Your grip began to slack on Cregan, enough for him to lift his head, gaze hooded and affectionate.
He pressed a series of sweet kisses along the inside of your thigh, reaching up to the bend of your knee. Perspiration glittered along his temples, but he was far from over — his hunger still prevailed. “You’ve got a grip like steel.” He grunted, moving forward to rest his head against your stomach.
A brazen, lascivious thought passed through him — your belly swollen with his child, an heir to Winterfell, a child of House Stark. It was reckless and wild to think of something so bold, but he couldn’t get it out of his head.
“Sorry,” You mumbled, somewhat flustered at your capability to nearly rip Cregan’s tresses right from their roots. He shook his head, his steely-eyed gaze flickering toward you. “I was quite consumed by the moment.” You confessed.
Cregan crawled forward, pressing a kiss against your mouth. You could taste yourself upon his tongue, evoking a whimper from between your lips. “Never apologize.” He rumbled, briefly nudging his forehead against yours. You observed him in silence, gaze swimming with affection as he rolled off of you.
He immediately stooped down to scoop you right off of the furs, hooking his bulky arms underneath you. You laughed, palms flat against the warm expanse of his chest, foreheads pressed together yet again. You didn’t need to say anything — you knew what came next.
Cregan gently deposited you onto his bed, his shadow eclipsing the glow of the firelight. He seemed massive at this angle, but his gentleness was notable with how he handled you. He unlaced the leather ties of his breeches, stepping out of them.
You happened to swallow at the sight of him — a mountain of a man, truly. A pang of nervousness struck at your gut, afraid that he wouldn’t fully fit inside of you, but it was fleeting. You knew that he would make sure that you were comfortable above all else.
His countenance, often laced with an unapproachable stoicism, softened at the sight of you — it wasn’t something commonplace. You had certainly eased the tension, his shoulders no longer weighted with stress or the burden of leadership.
A brief ghost of a smile tugged at his mouth — if you blinked, you might’ve missed it. “Are you smiling?” You whispered, doe-eyed and enamored with your Northman. Your hands trailed across the honed muscle of his shoulders, nails tracing across his back, and then to his chest.
Admittedly, it was difficult to keep a stony face around you, especially now, with your vibrant, exuberant smile and smitten gaze. Though, in the spirit of playfulness, he let out a rumbling hum, joining you atop his bed. The frame beneath groaned slightly in protest. “Perhaps.” He murmured.
He covered you with his burly physique, chestnut tresses framing his face, gray eyes drinking you in with a hint of tenderness. For as rough and rugged as he could be, Cregan became gentler for you — it wasn’t something he was used to.
Chest to chest, you craned forward, lips seeking his own as you kissed him. It was sickly-sweet, as gentle as a maiden, and Cregan found himself wanting you all over again. A low grunt of approval emerged from his throat, brows furrowing together as he reciprocated.
You reached for his bicep, palm unable to grip around the bulk of his muscle. It made you realize how much smaller you really were than him, in all senses of the word — stature and muscle mass. He had all the advantages on you, but you quite enjoyed the amusing contrast of sizes.
To Cregan, it thoroughly aroused him, seeing your silky digits attempt to wrap around his arm, only to fail miserably. He treated you like a prized jewel, afraid to harm you, afraid to drop you — it made his cock twitch against your thigh, and he heard the hitch within your throat.
“I’ll be gentle.” Cregan assured you, calloused palm gliding along the length of your thigh in an attempt to ease your worrying. You feared that he would split you in half with his cock — not that it was a terrible way to go, but you did want to walk on the morrow.
He lowered his head to your chest, peppering kisses all along your breasts and collarbone, the ridge of his nose brushing over your sternum. The tip of his hardened length slid across your slick entrance, prompting you to shiver with anticipation.
With a shove of his hips, the head of his cock pushed into your cunt, his girth and size something you needed to adjust to. A strangled whine left you, lips agape and slack, hands clawing at his biceps as he gingerly made his way inside of you, inch by agonizing inch.
The discomforting pang of being stretched made your body crawl, attempting to get comfortable beneath him. Cregan noticed the twinge of pain that fluttered across your countenance, and he soothed you with a kiss against your brow, palm still caressing your thigh.
It felt incredible — certainly an adjustment, but pleasurable nonetheless. The girth of his cock filled you completely in ways you hadn’t felt before, and you knew that he would be the only one you would ever want. Discomfort inevitably dissipated into bliss as Cregan gave you time to grow used to him.
“Need you to move,” You whimpered, noticing the fire burning within his eyes, like smoldering embers come to life. Those stormy-gray hues drank you in with the hunger of a starving wolf, and he moved your back up enough to place a feather pillow beneath your hips. “Cregan.”
The newfound angle made you reel from ecstasy, feeling the way in which his cock hit that spot of pleasure for you. He shuddered when you moaned his name, and it activated something salacious inside of him. He thought of you, the Lady of Winterfell, Lady Stark, full and round with his child, his heir.
He moved, then.
His hips snapped forward as he attempted to restrain himself from fucking you into a stupor, executing a great amount of gentleness, fueled with an amorous intensity. Cregan was passionate, cock rutting into you, hitting new depths as he began to show you just how much he wanted you.
A grunt left him when your knees bumped into his hips, occasionally squeezing him like a vice, but the bulk of his musculature kept you properly spread apart. Your mouth clamored for his, lips meeting in a tangle of tongue and teeth. Your nails dug into the thick muscle of his bicep, other hand reaching for the nape of his neck.
You felt him reach for your hand, roughened digits intertwining with yours as he placed it beside your head, pounding into you with a gentle fervor. Cregan was tempered and measured about his movements, sheathing his cock inside of you fully with each thrust.
A myriad of needy moans and whimpers left you, and you did little to conceal the height of their volume. You groaned into Cregan’s mouth when he snapped forward again, and you felt as if he might break you in half — in the best way possible, of course.
His cock was akin to the force of a battering ram in slow motion, ensuring that every thrust drove you to madness, your walls tight around him. The friction between your bodies only contributed to the tension, your chest snug against his, lips tangled together, his roughened digits groping at your thigh.
Your nails raked faint trails of red across the thick muscle of his bicep, prompting him to growl into your mouth, kissing you as if it would be his very last time. There was a subtle desperation to Cregan, coupled with that innate instinct to breed, fill you with his seed and let you carry his child.
The Northern winds began to howl outside, bringing with it an onslaught of snow, and yet you had never been warmer, happily trapped beneath the herculean mass of Cregan Stark. Your foreheads touched on occasion, each kiss building with want until it had exploded into something hot and messy.
Perspiration lingered upon both of your bodies, as his chambers became increasingly hot, like that of a fever pitch. Cregan used some of his body as leverage, pushing himself inside of you again, cock sheathed within you completely until he pulled back, and thrust again. The action became increasingly intense, yet he kept himself in-check.
Your body was perfect, a sight for him alone, made by the Old Gods — he couldn’t thank them enough. Cregan gave you another blistering kiss, letting you linger upon his tongue before he withdrew, mouth lowering towards your chest once more. He was hellbent on pleasing you while chasing after his own release.
As he took one of your breasts into his maw, he felt the sly return of your digits tangling within his hair, and he couldn’t help but briefly smirk into your flesh. He reveled in the way you manhandled him so brazenly, gripping him tightly as your leg hitched around his hips.
Cregan didn’t relent, cock driving into you with a needy force, aching and throbbing inside of you. Your thighs twitched and trembled, and he continued to trace his hand across it before grabbing at your haunch, pliant flesh filling his palm.
Grunts and low rumbles escaped him, colliding with your own symphony of moans and whimpers, desperate for him to come undone. You rolled your hips forward whenever you could, friction creating another delicious wave of heat between the both of you.
He gently bit at your chest, face nestled there as his pace became a touch quicker, cock battering into you, kissing your slick cunt over and over again. Those tantalizing fantasties of filling you with his seed tormented him, driving him into a frenzy.
He hit that spot between your legs that seemed to make you writhe, grabbing at his chestnut tresses, back arching slightly as he turned your senses into mush. Cregan groaned, the sound heavy and husky in your ear as he came, spilling himself deep inside of you. He continued to thrust into you afterwards, the motions considerably softer and less invigorated.
A huff escaped him, a quick breath to regain his composure. His stamina was rather impressive, and if you asked it of him, he would’ve continued on well into the night, but your countenance seemed etched with mild exhaustion.
You whimpered when he stayed inside of you, head bowing towards yours as he pressed a kiss against your forehead, and then to your lips. The gesture was inherently tender despite his rough demeanor, enough for you to loosely drape your arms around his shoulders.
Cregan rolled over to lay next to you, his large form taking up a sizable portion of his bed. He coaxed you close, thick arm snaking around you as he tugged you into the warm expanse of his chest, propped up against the pillows.
The silence was a comforting one, a blissful aftermath of affectionate sentiments and declarations of adoration. He made sure that you were comfortable, shrouding you in the blanket of wolf pelts, showering you in gentle kisses. His grasp was inherently protective, as if he were shielding you from some invisible force.
“Are you alright, my Lady?” Cregan uttered, checking to see if you were unwell. He sometimes got carried away in the moment, and you weren’t exactly tall and stocky like himself. He needed to accommodate you, and that sometimes included being gentler.
With a smitten smile, you nodded, peering up at him through your lashes. Your thighs continued to scream with a dull ache, cunt throbbing and sticky with his seed and your arousal. “Very much so.” You replied, head resting atop his chest as you traced patterns against his abdomen. “If I weren’t so spent, I would ask you to do it again.”
A brief huff of amusement left Cregan, who held you close, reaching for your hand as he cradled it within his own, his other hand firmly situated atop the swell of your hip. “I cannot promise that I would not ravage you the second the opportunity arose.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of your head.
“If that’s what I wanted?” You challenged, noticing the way his expression contorted into a look of desire, but above all, pure devotion. Cregan enjoyed your flirtatious remarks and subtle challenges, chest vibrating with a hum of approval.
“Then you are in for a long night, Lady Stark.”
copyright @ swordgrace ; please do not copy/steal or translate my works onto other platforms or claim it as your own.
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