#it seems like every time they hire someone for us to train in the mornings the person either quits or they just start getting schedules mids

[stevebabey]

somewhere only we know

a/n: i accidentally made this so long & ran with the request in whatever way my heart desired! hope this is enuf hurt/comfort for all ur needs <3 word count: 5.6k summary: You haven’t seen Steve in a few weeks, barely a couple phone-calls keeping your relationship beating. You assume the worst. Steve does his best to make it up to you. [hurt/comfort + miscommunication + established relationship]

It’s hard to not think he’s avoiding you.

Steve never seemed the type of boyfriend who would be foolish enough to ice you out without so much as a word about something being wrong. He wears his heart on his sleeve — more than anyone you know.

You’d also like to think you would know. That by now, all these months together, you’ve would’ve somewhat memorised the twists and turns of his emotions. But if he’s dropped any clues about being upset with you, you certainly hadn’t picked up on them.

You think you’d prefer his iciness to this odd avoidance.

It has to be that he’s upset, you reason. You would prefer he’s upset; that’s fixable, doable, and completely normal for a couple. The alternative is harsh, a cruel thread of insecure thoughts; perhaps Steve has suddenly decided he doesn’t have time for you.

And it’s a lot harder to pretend that thought doesn’t sting terribly.

And look, you pride yourself on being a logical person. You’re not jumping to conclusions and you aren’t overreacting — at least, you really hope you aren’t. The suspicions aren’t unfounded. It doesn’t stop you from feeling a bit too unstitched, like an obsessed girlfriend who keeps too close tabs on her boyfriend.

Maybe it only feels that way because Steve isn’t checking up on you as much as he used to. The healthy two-way road you both shared has suddenly become, agonizingly, one-way.

You’ve been trying not to count the days apart, nor note the shortness of the calls — just a couple weeks ago, he was talking your ear off and rounding up the phone bill, so what happened? It follows you around, a soft weight that presses your shoulders down, til it leaks in every second thought like a sleepy poison.

You don’t want to be jealous. You don’t want to be clingy.

It’s criminal how you don’t know that Steve would love nothing more.

When it gets to one week without seeing him, some of the worry transforms. You let it turn you away from him, some part deep inside that doesn’t want to get hurt putting up the defenses early, just in case, and you throw yourself into work. Worry about trivial things in your everyday life instead of about him. You give him his space.

One week becomes two. 

You’re not sure what mixture of feelings bubbles up when he calls on Tuesday morning. It feels like resentment, which you desperately shove down — combined with relief, with happiness, to be hearing his voice again. Even if it’s just down the phone line.

“Hi Stevie,” you say into the phone, the affectionate name slipping out, pure habit.

Your grin, an instant result of hearing his voice, fades a bit. You remind yourself to rein in it, an echo of thought that you’re too clingy forcing its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Hi, angel.” He coos back over the line, melting at the sound of your voice. It’s been too long since he’s seen you — he practically sags against the wall, gripping the phone tighter as if it’ll bring you closer to him.

It’s been hectic. He’s been training the new hire at work, since Robin back at school, all while hustling to get in his application for the local community college. On top of that, he’s trying to wrangle the moving details of the new apartment he finally managed to get his name down on.

Hectic feels like the understatement of the century to Steve.

He could tell you — and god, Steve really wants to. But a bigger part of him wants to see the surprise when you realise he’ll have a place that’s all his. No more sneaking through windows or quiet kisses interrupted by someone getting up in the night; an uninterrupted space for his love. Somewhere only the two of you get to know.

He ignores the part of his heart that wants to ask you, sometime in the future, not just yet, to come with him. To make his place yours as well.

For now, it’s all about the surprise. He’d planned it from the beginning, since the moment the keys to the apartment had been pressed into his palm. Steve wanted to treat you, to some swanky candlelit dinner for Friday date night, roses at the door, the whole nine yards, instead of a usual movie date.

The pet name softens you. Something inside eases and you wonder if have been being dramatic — he doesn’t seem different, seemingly unaware of the distance. Hearing his voice makes you miss him all that much more.

“How’s your morning been, huh?” He asks. He could ask how your last couple weeks have been considering how long it’s been since he’s found time to come to see you. He gnaws at his lip, trying to ignore the ache in his heart, and hopes it’ll be worth it.

“It’s been good! I mean as good as-“

A knock sounds at Steve’s front door and he curses, interrupting your reply. You pause, waiting to hear why he’s interrupted.

“Shit, I’m so sorry I’ve gotta— there’s someone at the door.”

Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you swallow it down, praying it won’t come out when you speak. Your voice is thankfully even when you say, “That’s alright. Go get it, just- just call me back later, yeah?”

“Later, definitely,” Steve promises, feeling terrible for having to hang up on the first conversation he’s had with you in too long. What kind of boyfriend is he? He has half a mind to ignore the door, just to keep talking to you — but the knock comes again, more insistent.

If it’s Henderson, Steve swears he’s gonna kick his ass.

“I love you.” His voice says down the line, voice sweet and it’s still enough to kick your heart into a flurry. You feel a bit more settled hearing it and grin, even though he can’t see it.

“I love you too.”

It’s not Dustin at the door— it’s Eddie, flaunting a grin and a gesture to his rust bucket of a van parked in Steve’s drive. Both are here at Steve’s request. Taking all his boxes in the beemer would ensure more than a dozen trips across town. And even with all his excitement to be out of the Harrington house, Steve’s sure it would take all but three trips to tire him out.

Eddie’s a bit early, a far cry from his usual tardiness, and Steve curses his sudden change of habit, today of all days. He tells Eddie as much as he tapes up the last of his open boxes.

Eddie, ever the charmer, let’s Steve direct what to grab and what to leave without much lip, much to Steve’s relief. They talk, a light banter thrown between them, and Eddie asks all the right questions; When’s the first party? What courses is he taking? What lewd favour does he have to do for Steve to let him host DnD there on occasion?

By the time the last box is in the car, Steve shoving Eddie for the mere suggestion — “you can host if you ask like a normal person, dude.” — the phone call is long forgotten.

It’s not his fault, not really. There’s a special frenzy in filling the hardwood floors of his cramped new kitchen with boxes of his stuff, a euphoric buzz that only comes with molding a new space into a home.

By the time he’s unpacked what little he owns into the space — the kitchen only has one pan, two mugs, both gifted to him by Dustin on separate Christmas’, and one or two plates he thought his parents wouldn’t notice missing — it’s late.

The only piece of furniture in the place is some shitty couch he and Robin had dragged off the sidewalk the day before. It’s a bit gross but not so much that he could refuse something free.

Steve sinks into it, drinking in the sight of the empty boxes strewn around his new apartment. Something in his heart glitters happily. For the first time since Eddie showed up at his door, Steve finally relaxes.

It’s 11.41pm and all he wishes is that you were with him.

The phonecall.

Just as quickly as it slipped his mind, Steve remembers it. The memory of it sinks into his stomach heavily and quickly, punching out a breath. His insides twist up with blackened regret as Steve thinks back to how many hours ago he’d promised to call you back. His eyes flash to the watch on his wrist.

He deflates a bit, seeing how late it is. Even though he would — he’d call you at 2am, hell, whenever you asked him to, just to talk — Steve won’t wake your whole family just to apologise.

Shit, he thinks softly and screws his eyes closed for a moment. There was no telling what reaction you’d have, given he’d accidentally blown you off like you were some one-time date, not his girlfriend — hot anger or maybe, icy silent treatment. Nancy had done that to him once; her jaw tight and narrowed eyes giving away her anger even though she insisted I’m fine, Steve, so just drop it.

It’s made all the worse considering he hasn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Regret feasts in his gut. All of a sudden, keeping all this moving a secret seems colossally dumb. Steve knows you would’ve jumped at the chance to help him move.

It’s an anguishing thought to imagine — the fact the two of you could’ve been unboxing this next chapter together. You’d work up a sweat from the exertion of moving boxes, random fly-aways sticking up and god, Steve would think you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then he would’ve coaxed you down to the couch with his kisses til he was sure you knew it too. 

If he wasn’t so set on surprising you, maybe instead you’d be here with him now, nestled in his arms.

Instead, Steve’s alone and you’re across town thinking god knows what about him.

A groan fights its way out of Steve’s throat, dozens of thoughts spinning off each other on how to fix this. How can he make it up to you and make sure you knew he was still thinking of always.

But sleep had to come first.

— 

You’d never admit out loud how long you waited for the phone to ring.

After a certain amount of silence, you’d slowly bled back into your jobs around the house, never straying too far from the phone. You’re not sure what it is that fizzes under your skin but the longer the phone stays quiet, the more it stings. The distance between you and Steve feels yawning.

It rings, only once, and you leap for it — only to get your heart gets washed down the drain at the voice of one of your mother’s friends.

It makes getting up for your Wednesday morning shift seems an impossible feat.

He likely got busy, you have to remind yourself painfully. The Steve you knew would never, never purposefully leave you hanging. You hate the thought that pings into your brain, wondering if there really was anyone at the door. That he told you so he could escape the conversation quicker because he was avoiding you.

That, perhaps, this wasn’t your Steve anymore.

You have to repeat he called you to yourself firmly, trying to drown out the self-doubt. It doesn’t work.

It feels like something final has been decided by Steve and you’ve been left in the dark, grasping at straws. You can’t help but believe that the worst has been confirmed, that Steve doesn’t have time for you anymore. You feel grossly over-attached to him now and know that if you have to pull away, each thread connecting you to him will pull and hurt.

His phone call, Wednesday afternoon, right when Steve knows you’ll be home, doesn’t ease you much.

“I‘m—” He sucks in a huge breath, loud enough you can hear it over the phone. “—so unbelievably sorry that I forgot to call you back. Honest, I promise I had a really good reason to get distracted. I’m so so sorry, It won’t happen again, I swear, scout’s honour.”

The rambling words, tinged with nervousness, manage to persuade a smile out of you. The relief that washes over you feels charged, a bit overwhelming, so much that you can’t keep your voice even when you respond. 

“That’s okay.” You say a little weaker than you intend.

It makes the regret in Steve’s gut twist up a little tighter. It’s gut-wrenching to consider another reaction, that maybe you’re not angry with him but upset. Steve thinks that this is decisively worse. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I—I’m really sorry.” He insists again, despair leaking into the words. He presses the phone closer. “Please let me make it up to you?”

“Sure.” You say, aiming for nonchalant but the word comes out too tight in your throat. Cursing yourself, you barrel on in hopes to keep Steve talking. You don’t really want to give away how much his distance has affected you. “What was it that distracted you, hm?”

“About that.” Steve chuckles light, beginning to feel his excitement wind up at the prospect of showing you the new place.

The original plan to wait til Friday, to do the proper date, is canned. The giddiness of his new place can’t be contained and there was no one he’d rather share it with than you. And fuck, he misses you.

It had been the last thing he had decided before drifting off to sleep, one of his last nights in his parents’ home. Rain or shine, whether you were angry or not, Steve needed to see you tomorrow.

“Are you free?” He asks, even though he knows you are. By Wednesday afternoon, you’re always free because he usually swings by and takes you out for shakes.

Eyes screwing shut, Steve holds in a wince at the realisation he’d missed that tradition with you for the last two weeks.

And you hadn’t mentioned a word to him.

His heart tears at the thought of you waiting on your doorstep like usual, while he’d been too preoccupied to even remember. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took you to realise he wasn’t coming.

“Can I come see you?” The words burst out before you’ve even answered his first question. It doesn’t matter — seeing you, feeling your touch again, and getting to deliver every kiss he’s saved over the past week takes top priority in his mind. “I promise I’ll—“

Steve thinks he might be cursed because this is the second time he’s been interrupted on the phone with you. This time, however, it’s a very specific hum of a car pulling in the drive; the engine sounding far too smooth to be Eddie’s.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Steve whips around to peer out at the drive. A stone drops into his stomach at the sight. Beside his BMW, his parent’s car is parked in the usually vacant spot. Fuck.

They had told him they’d be gone a whole extra week and Steve had wanted to be out before they returned — to have everything he needed at the new place before his father decided he needed a lecture and a friendly rough-around on the way out as well.

“Steve?” Your voice warbles out the phone, pulled back from his ear. Steve jumps to attention, remembering himself.

“Baby,” he breathes into the phone, suddenly broken from his prolonged silence. You’re a bit concerned at this point, between his sudden cut-off and now hurried voice. “I- fuck, I have to go. I swear this—”

He groans, pent-up frustration leaking in as he hears the lock enter the front door, announcing his parents’ arrival.

How can he explain all this in the five seconds of privacy before his parents burst his bubble? Steve’s parents didn’t even know about you; dating was strictly a business prospect in the Harrington House. Steve had known from the beginning they would’ve never approved of you.

“Um, okay.” You sound a bit stiff and too casual. “That’s- that’s fine.”

“Please believe me,” He rushes out, eyes fixed on the front door as it opens. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

It doesn’t matter if they grill them about who’s on the phone, Steve needs to say i love you. Needs to hear it back.

Silence. No response from you. He’s talking to the dial tone.

— 

Your head is a storm.

Conflict rages wildly, a heavy thunder that might be your heartbeat — your anxiety has kicked it up a couple beats — and flashes of lightning, striking terrible thoughts, all contained within your head.

The fact Steve was the one to call you is too weak to keep your head straight. It hurts pathetically, to think you’ve been forgotten. Neglected by someone you hold in the highest regard — and he hadn’t even been able to tell you why. Another phone call where he’s clearly got more important things on his hands.

You didn’t want to hang up on him, not before the usual i love you’s; but if you had waited, then he would have heard how watery it was. Heard the quiver in your voice. And he’d drop everything, all his obviously very important plans, to come see you.

You don’t want him to come over because he’s made you cry — you want him to come over because he wants to see you.

It’s such a simple ask. The fact you think he’d deny you it, too busy, feels heavier than you’d ever imagined. Your pillowcase becomes well acquainted with the taste of your tears as you bury yourself under covers, trying desperately to keep your heart intact.

What happened to your clingy, always touchy, forever wanting you around, boyfriend? It aches to think that that chapter of your relationship may have passed.

Tiredness overtakes your misery at some point, drifting you off into fitful sleep that doesn’t provide any rest.

You’re drawn out of it a few hours later, soft touches that feel like Steve because you’ve felt them dozens of times before, memorised without thought — but Steve is busy or avoiding you, or some third worse thing you don’t want to consider. You shiver off the ghosting pressure in your hair.

A murmur of your name.

The touch of his palm, pressed against your hairline, startles you a bit when you realise it’s real. Your eyes pop open in your surprise, taken aback to find Steve before you. He’s here. 

Crouched by the bed, his hand pushes the strands of your hair back from your face with a gentle touch. He looks as upset as you feel, brows scrunched together in the middle— a frown pulls his lips down, eyes glistening with hurt. He’s upset to see you upset.

“Hi.” He whispers, all soft.

It’s dark out now. Hazarding a guess, you’d say you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, aided by your exhaustion from crying. You can feel it, eyes stiff and nose still sniffly. It feels pathetic and so you roll in on yourself, tucking your face into your pillow for a moment.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, to gather words to speak to him without falling back to tears and asking outright why he doesn’t like you anymore. Steve’s hand, still stroking soft as ever, coaxes your face out of hiding, his thumb dipping to press warmth along your temple.

“What—“ It comes out too scratchy and you clear your throat. Steve’s hand still soothes your skin, thumb light and loving. “What’re you doing here?”

You don’t need to ask how he got in— Steve’s come in through the window enough times that the movements are all muscle memory. He chews his cheek in deliberation: where to start?

You’ve obviously been crying, a heart-wrenching fact that turns all the more foul considering Steve knows it’s because of him. Maybe even worse is remembering the conversations that had been clipped short, paired with his absence of the last couple weeks. He hasn’t been taking good care of you.

“Had to come see my girl, of course.” He says, low and sweet. His frown pulls up into a weak smile, fingers travelling down cup your face. His thumb catches the first tear that escapes, unbidden, and something alike to horror streams through his system.

“Sweetheart,” he dotes, emotion clinging tightly to his words — his thumb dutifully collects the next tear, as if it makes up the fact he’s caused them. “Wha—“

“Are we okay?”

You have to ask. You can’t handle another affection-soaked word out his lips if there’s still a possibility it may be the last time he’ll give them to you. Your heart aches unbearingly to ask, to even suggest the idea alone and tempt fate, but you have to know.

Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting and for a moment, he’s shocked into silence. It’s like each nerve alights in his body, a flush of physical pain at the mere suggestion you’re making.

You think the time apart is purposeful. Shame follows, scattered scolding thoughts at his carelessness for ever letting you think so. You won’t even look at him, eyes trained on the sheets. 

He faintly recalls being on the other end of this treatment; when Nancy had run around chasing monsters and left him to wonder why she’d decided to leave him out all of sudden. Like Steve, she’d had a perfectly good reason to do so — and yet seeing you like this still unravels the stitching of his heart which falls apart pitifully in his chest.

Every pet name soars to his mind but instead, he just says your name. 

You still don’t meet his eye. As gently as he can, Steve lets his fingers drift to your chin and coax your attention to him. Steve’s forever been about touch, he can think of a thousand different ways to apologise with a brush, a caress, a kiss — far better than he’s ever been at words. He leans in, slow and meaningful.

If you were upset normally Steve would wait, hover, and let you decide whether he’s allowed to steal a kiss. But right now you don’t need his hesitance, you need this; the sweet press of his lips that leaves no room for thinking anything else.

It’s weakening tender. You let the curve of his bottom lip come home to its place between yours.

He kisses you strong, so the fervor in his affection can’t be denied, to banish every thought that lead to your question of are we okay? All his pent-up kisses of the last weeks, all promised to you.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls back, still close enough to feel the heat of him. Steve watches your lashes flutter, eyes dance around his face, and settle on his own. “Please don’t ever think we aren’t.”

He kisses you once more and when you chase his mouth, he grants you another gladly, without thought. His lips graze up your face, a warm kiss to your cheek, to your nose, and a final one dropped onto your forehead.

“I’m sorry you thought we weren’t.” He murmurs into your hair. He’s all but encased you — nothing exists but the duvet and Steve before you, hands in your hair, lips on your skin, the scent of him curls comfortingly into your senses.

“I’ll forgive you if you come cuddle.” You grumble with a smile, happy to let yourself lean into his hand, soaking in the closeness. It’s not entirely true — you want answers, to know what has been eating up his time. But being in his arms, a hold you’ve missed for weeks now, will sate you if only for a bit.

Steve breaks into a smile at your words, eyes darting to your window momentarily. He licks his lips.

“Actually, I was hoping to show you something.” Steve suggests though it’s more a question than an insistence. “Show you what’s been keeping me from my girl.”

If you had said no, shook your head, or even just pulled back the duvet, Steve would’ve shucked off his jacket and had you bundled in his arms in an instant. He can see the ticking of your brain, eyes weighing up the tiredness alongside the curiosity of what’s kept your boyfriend from you.

Something in his poorly contained excitement, bottom lip cherry red from him he bites it, sways you.

“Okay.” You mumble, still softly spoken. You nod your head lightly, eyes scanning over his face to drink in the fondness you’ve craved for weeks. “Yeah, s’just wanna be with you right now.”

Your words manage to soften him even more, a ripple that melts through him. Torn between elation at the love and devastation that he’d been the one to keep you both apart for too long.

His thumb sweeps across your cheek once more, crowding back in to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring his next words into the skin. “Course, honey. C’mon, lemme show you. Promise it’s worth it.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, strong and sure. The small time apart seems to spur you both closer, giggles spilling as you both clamber back out your window, Steve’s hands never parting from yours. The grass is cool against your ankles as you scramble out, stumbling into his chest when you lose your balance — relishing in how it only makes him tug you in tighter.

Even as Steve starts up the car, golden headlights illuminating the empty road, he only untwists his fingers long enough to put the car into gear. There’s nothing but the grumble of the engine, streetlights flashing past, and the cool leather seat beneath you.

At each turn, Steve lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, soft and warm. You think he’s still apologising. His eyes seem to be asking for forgiveness, glittering in the dark.

When your hands land back on your lap, this time you’re the one to lift them and brush a kiss along his hand. I forgive you. His grip tightens in your hand.

You’re not sure where you’re heading, too focused on your boyfriend to take note of the route — and it still doesn’t click even when Steve parks outside one of the downtown apartment buildings.

It all feels so juvenile, like giddy teenagers sneaking out, letting Steve pull you across the empty night-time streets with a giggle. The wind wraps around your bare legs, crisp and cool. You hadn’t changed before you’d both left.

It’s only when he spins his key ring around deftly, searching for a specific key, does something slide into place in your mind. Your eyes stare up at the building ahead, then at the keys on Steve’s key ring; he seems to be watching you in his peripheral, waiting for the shoe to drop. He’s smiling.

“Did you...?” You gasp quietly.

Eyes wide, you stare up at Steve and can’t finish your sentence. Your heart trips over itself in its excitement as you finally figure it out. Steve’s grinning now, only taking his eyes off you to insert the lock in the door to the building; he can tell you’ve figured it out now.

The lock makes a clunk as he twists the key, unlocking it. It feels like so much more than opening a door — it feels something akin to unraveling a thousand potential futures, all with you and Steve together in them. Everything about his absence makes sense, a jarring shift in perspective as you realise what he’s been doing all this time.

“What floor?” You ask, sounding a bit breathless already in your excitement. Steve pushes the door to the lobby open, holding it for you to pass through. There’s an elevator but you book for the stairs, clutching his hand the whole time. The lobby door snicks shut behind you, unheard.

Your footsteps clatter loudly, likely waking a few residents, but you can’t find it within you to care. Your thighs burn by the time you reach the top of the first set of stairs and whip around, finding Steve’s adoring grin following you. His hair is a little mussed from the rush.

He nods to the next staircase, fingers squeezing yours excitedly. “One more.”

Steve’s never been happier to let you drag him around, your excitement palpable in the energy of your run. It’s a far cry from your sleepy state earlier.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Steve takes the lead and your flurry of laughter follows him all the way to his new door. The pair of you crowd against it, tangles of arms and lips because you’ve suddenly decided it’s criminal to not kiss him right now.

It’s messy and rushed. You’re back is pressed against the door and Steve kisses you til your knees are weak, hot and hard, even as he tries to wiggle the lock open.

The moment it’s open, you both tumble in a clatter. You kick off your shoes and leave them at the door, spinning to drink in his new place. It’s barren, just a couch, not even a coffee table. You decide it’s already your favourite in the world.

Steve lets you go, watching as you zoom around the space, sliding into the kitchen with a gleeful sound that is far too noisy for the hour.

You’re pulling at every cupboard, leaving a row of open cabinet doors — it doesn’t matter that the apartment isn’t anywhere new, each of them seems endlessly interesting to you. Steve decided he’s had enough of watching, toeing off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen.

His arms around your middle surprise you, some yelp of shock that immediately fizzles into more laughter when Steve picks you up. It’s a halfhearted spin, more to hold you than anything and before you can spin and kiss him like you so desperately want, he’s taking you both down the hall.

Positioning you both in front of a door, Steve pauses. You think you know what door this is. A kiss on your temple. Another on your shoulder, one on your neck. He leaves his face there, nuzzled in closer, and gestures to the door with a jerk of his chin.

“Open it.” He murmurs, between another round of scattered kisses. Like it’s your new bedroom, not his.

Like the rest of the apartment, it’s more empty than not. A poorly made-up mattress against the back wall, beneath the window, and a few bags of clothes scattered throughout the room. You can recognise the forest green duvet cover on the mattress, familiar sheets.

It still smells like Steve when you bury yourself in them, Steve falling down beside you not a moment later. You relish in it all, being surrounded by all things Steve. You’ve missed it all in the weeks apart.

“You’ve certainly been busy.” You mean it as a tease— the fact he’s managed to wrangle down an apartment along with his job and organising college, it’s no wonder he hadn’t found time to see you.

Seeing how his grin dims, eyes drooping, you have no doubt it’s been weighing on him too. “Again, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. That last phone call—“

He sighs, rolling away from you and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A groan rumbles out as he drags them down his face, remembering how you’d hung up on him just earlier today.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you hush him, dragging away his hands to cup his face with your own. His face still holds conflict, the tale of his day unwinding off his tongue before he can think.

“My parents came home early.” He admits, a bit weak. “I was trying to get everything out before they came back— you know how, uh, how they would’ve taken it.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched, just for a moment before he continues. “Eddie had just left to take the mattress over and I called you but that’s when… Well, that’s why we’re just on a mattress on the ground.”

Your light laughter hoists Steve’s mood upwards, feeling himself smile as he watches you beside him on the sheets. You shuffle closer, draping yourself across him so your cheek lays against his chest.

“We can get you a new bed frame.” You say like the prospect is more exciting than it is annoying. Steve adores how you say we — that you’ll come with him, pick things out for this next part of his life. Intertwine into the things he owns now, as well as in his heart. 

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier.” You breathe a little softer, and then as if it’s just delayed from the call, you say, “I love you.”

Some part of him that Steve can’t ever seem to shake sighs in relief. Today is not a bad day at all. You’re here, in his arms, in his new place and you love him still.

“I love you too.” Steve hums, arms pulling tighter around you. “And I’m sorry for making you worry.”

When you look up at him, really look, his eyes are shining. His shirt is rumpled, hair ruffled from your tangle onto the bed and he looks utterly beautiful. It just won’t do. You shift upwards and when you kiss him, it’s hard and fiercely loving. Too much saved affection coming out in one go.

Steve sighs happily against your lips, arms tightening and when you break apart, Steve nearly asks then and there. Come with me. Make this our bedroom instead of just mine. We’ll make this somewhere only we know.

It’s not the time. Instead, he whispers his i love you’s onto your lips and when he spills all his half-baked plans for dates and the endless possibilities of the new space, when he promises to never worry you like that again — you’ve got no choice but to believe him.

His endless kisses won’t let you believe anything else anyways.

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf​ @televisionboy

#blairshgo #do i love this? not completely #but we PERSIST #i think i only don't love it cos ive reread the draft a thousand times #but here we GO here it IS #this is for all the girlies that are worried ppl will get bored & leave them <3 stevie would never #steve give me kiss after all that torment #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve #harrington #steve x reader #steve fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve oneshot #stranger things #stranger things x reader #harrington x reader #stranger things fic

[sempersirens]

yes, chef | part three

a follow-up to this request from the lovely @cool-iguana

read part one and part two

summary: domestic bliss doesn't last long with a man who doesn't know how to regulate his emotions at the idea of losing someone he loves

pairing: no-outbreak!au, chef!joel x f!reader

content/warnings: lots of angst, swearing

a/n: omg as a brit writing stories set in the US i always forget how far states are from each other.... wym you can't just hop on the train from houston to new york?

In theory, you'd always wanted to be a morning person.

You envied the ease of Joel's body slipping out from the sheets each morning, never fighting with his eyelids for just five more minutes of rest.

The break of dawn was probably your favourite time of the day; you just preferred to soak it all in warm and semi-lucid from Joel's bed. The ambience of car engines on the street below slowly waking up mixed with Joel's coffee pot singing on the stove felt like a hymn sung only for you. You'd shut your eyes - only momentarily, before hearing the door creak open and the large white mug you'd claimed as your own being set down beside you on the nightstand.

Strategically, it was lucky that Joel always had to get to the restaurant hours before you. But each morning you wished you could pull him back under the duvet and sink yourself into his chest until it was impossible to decipher where you ended and he began.

Showering after spending a night with Joel felt like sacrilege. If it wasn't for the sweat and other fluids clinging to your skin, you would wear the remnants of his touch and scent on your body like an expensive French perfume.

The restaurant was always hectic, but now nearing the festive season everything seemed to intensify rapidly. However, screwing the boss did have its perks; you'd managed to sneak a couple of days off last week to visit a friend from culinary school in New York.

While you were there, she'd taken you to one of her favourite spots in the city, introducing you to the head chef who was a friend of hers. He'd asked about your current role and you told him everything about working for the Joel Miller - strategically omitting the parts where he has you pinned against the stove after hours.

You'd thought nothing of it after that, knowing it would mostly be inconvenient to hire someone halfway across the country when culinary grads were lurking on every corner in the city. You didn't want to leave Joel, either. You didn't plan on staying at his restaurant for the rest of your life - even he didn't, but things were good. You felt secure for the first time in your life.

Finally arriving at the restaurant, you sang a chirpy "Mooorning!" into the kitchen before dumping your things into your locker. As you tied your apron around your figure, Joel emerged from the office, eyes dark and trained on the floor.

"Good morning, chef." You cooed in a low tone, letting your voice rasp every so slightly.

He kept his eyes on the ground, grunting something inaudible vaguely in your direction before stalking into the kitchen.

Weird.

Whenever you and Joel got a moment alone he would always take advantage of your solitude, even if only for a couple of seconds. He'd seemed fine at the house this morning, you'd heard him singing along to The Supremes while making breakfast. Maybe the wrong amount of stock had been delivered; the tiniest of setbacks were often enough to dictate his mood for the entire day.

You pushed the encounter to the back of your mind, redirecting your attention to your prep for the day.

"Has anyone seen my boning knife?" You shouted over your shoulder after all but turning your station inside out.

Before you could turn your head, a heavy hand slammed the knife in front of you.

"Was on the floor when I got here this mornin'. Watch your shit and clean your station." Joel growled, loud enough for the rest of the kitchen to hear.

"Yes, chef." You bowed your head, cheeks turning pink with embarrassment.

You were more than familiar with his sharp tongue and short temper, but there was something about the way he spat his words at you that sent an unease through your body. He'd made you feel small. Why couldn't he have left the knife on your station for you when he found it? It seemed like such a petty thing for him to do.

Not wanting to let his mood rub off on you, you brushed it off and carried on with your tasks before service started.

The morning rushed past in a haze, and soon enough orders were coming through. Joel had remained eerily quiet for the majority of the morning, you almost wished he would shout at you to simply acknowledge your presence.

He hadn't found a single excuse to touch you, an act of affection he often employed while he made his rounds through the stations. You felt like you were a child being given the silent treatment by your mother, all of a sudden you were six again, tugging at the hem of her dress begging for her to look at you.

You were in the midst of prepping a monkfish and kohlrabi main with cauliflower and dates, almost ready for it to go to the pass, when you felt his presence behind you.

"Sauce ain't reduced enough."

"With respect, chef, it has two more minutes on heat."

He left before returning with a spoon, dipping it into your saucepan of monkfish stock.

"Needs lime."

"I'm going to add lime before it goes on the pass. As I said, it's not finished yet."

"Fuckin' useless." He muttered quietly under his breath, but you caught it.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"I said you're fuckin' useless. Slow, no attention to detail, don't know why you're still in my kitchen."

Your heart sank deep into the pit of your stomach, sweat coating your palms. All eyes were on you both, and the sizzle of your burning sauce on the stove was the least of your worries.

"How dare you speak to me like that?" You fought for your voice to not waiver.

Was this part of your act? Had he taken the game you both played too far? There was no softness in his eyes, no remorse or realisation that his words had stung you.

Before he could dismiss you from the kitchen, you untied your apron and threw it to the ground, letting your hard work char and spit on the stove.

You didn't say a word as you snatched your things, bustling through the back door without another glance.

"Where the fuck d'you think you're going? You don't get to walk out of here mid-service just because y'needed more damn lime." Joel called from behind you.

"This isn't about the fucking lime, Joel. How could you speak to me like that? I thought, I thought-"

"You need to get some thicker skin. They ain't gonna coddle you like I do in New York."

The words must've slipped out of his mouth judging by the way his eyes widened at the mention of New York.

"What are you talking about?"

"They called me this mornin' - for a reference. Told me how impressed they were meetin' you."

You wanted to reach out and touch him, to console him and tell him how this was all just a horrible misunderstanding. Then his words replayed in your head. Every time you looked into his big, angry eyes all you could hear was useless, fuckin' useless.

"Grow up, Joel. Maybe if you'd have talked to me about it like a fucking adult I could've told you it wasn't like that."

"Oh yeah, what was it like? You plan on fuckin' your way to the top there too, or that just with me?"

He was being unjustly cruel and he knew it. This wasn't a power play for you, and he knew that. Although you'd never said it, you loved him, and you were almost certain that he loved you too.

But this was too much - he had pushed you too far this time. There was no coming back from this.

"Fuck you, Joel."

taglist: @cool-iguana @skysmiller @lhymer1995 @brittmb115 @moonlightdivine @reallyidontcare @nana90azevedo @spookyanamurdock @lovely-ateez @spookyanamurdock @bbyanarchist @joeldjarin @nostalxgic @axshadows @jenispunk @noisynightmarepoetry @thoughtfulmoonchild911

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #my fic #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #dee writes #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader

[samkiszkasfacialhair]

Rollin’ and Tumblin’ Chapter 1

Rollin’ and Tumblin’ Chapter 1

Pairing: Jake Kiszka and Female Reader

Summary: You’ve lived a sheltered and privileged life, only learning what it truly means to live and love after meeting Jake, a young man of unusual western sorts who was hired to work on your father’s farm.

Warnings: Cowboy Jake, hunger in relation to unhealthy eating habits, knives.

Word Count: 3.1k

April 1903

It was the spring of your twenty third year. The day started off like any other day would. However, you were dreading the events that were scheduled for later in the day- a dinner party where you would be matched off with a wealthy man your father and mother had chosen for you to marry, William Drayton. His family, much like yours, did not care for anyone who did not live up to their standards of wealth and class. The Draytons had monopolized the oil business in the south and southwest portions of the nation, which guaranteed generations of wealth, something your father more than anyone was particularly keen on.

It was all politics. No one cared about true love or real happiness. You had never even met the man and you were expected to, from this night forward, spend the rest of your life with him. And you didn’t have any other choice. Most girls you knew were paired off with men between ages seventeen and nineteen. Not twenty three. Time was ticking and your parents were not allowing you to waste any more of it after years of you protesting marriage against their wishes.

All you’ve known your entire life is etiquette and poise. You were taught, or should we say trained to be meek and mild because men like that. To have thoughts and opinions of your own may as well be a sin, and even the thought of speaking up or out of turn would send you on a train with a one way ticket to Hell. Manners were shoved down your throat and you didn’t have a single memory of not looking and acting perfect every day of your life. You were a prisoner in your own body. But this was your life and there was no way out of it. 

The corset bounding your torso felt like a million pins sticking into you from every direction, pushing in harder each time you inhaled. The pink ribbon tying it together was pulled tight, keeping you painfully caged inside it, which seemed to be a physical representation of how you felt living your actual life. 

You sat in the parlor room of your home with your mother for breakfast. As you raised your glass to your lips, the familiar sound of your father’s voice began in the kitchen and echoed through the rest of the house. Along with his voice was another, a deeper, smooth voice that you couldn’t recognize. 

His footsteps along with the sound of another pair of feet got louder as he walked down the hallway and toward the parlor room to greet you. 

You turned your head as he appeared in the doorway and wished you a good morning.

“Good morning, Daddy,” you replied.

“I have someone to introduce to you both.”

With his words, came another man through the doorway. 

“This is Jacob. I’ve hired him as our farmhand. He’ll be in charge of things so you’ll see him around quite a lot,” he explained.

This wasn’t unusual. You were used to people around the house and on the land outside. You had your lady’s maids, cooks, house maids, and a few farmers who took care of your father’s pride and joy, the crops and cattle. 

But what was unusual, was Jacob himself. 

First of all, he was around your age, which was unlikely. Typically your father hired men well into middle age to be in charge of things related to the farm. Anyone your age, much like yourself, was typically treated as your father’s inferior. 

Second, he wasn’t the typical farmer you’d seen around before. He had more of a western look. Something you’d only ever seen in books or heard about through word of mouth. He wore a hat and a brown leather jacket which covered a blue denim shirt. His pants were denim as well, ripped and dirty, and you were surprised your father would let him into your home in that state. Lastly, the boots as well as the chaps he wore led to the conclusion that he dabbled in horse riding.

He took his hat off and held it over his chest to bow his head at you and Mother.

Upon taking it off, light brown wavy hair that was tangled and clumped together in every direction tumbled down to his shoulders. He had streaks of blonde in it, seemingly from being out in the sun. It was dirty and messy- yet incredibly fascinating. You had never seen that length of hair on a man. Ever. 

His face was that of someone you figured would only ever be a figment of your imagination. He had tanned skin and deep eyes that were a light shade of brown. His nose was prominent and strong. His lips naturally curved up into a smile with just a touch of facial hair surrounding them.

The only word that came to mind was handsome. And that didn’t even begin to cover it. 

You smiled at him and before you knew it, he was on his was out the door following close behind your father. The sound of their voices heading down the hallway were silenced with the shutting of the back door and you sat there for a minute just looking at the now empty doorway he once stood in. 

You pulled yourself out of your daydream to continue your breakfast and idle chat with your mother before finishing and heading to your room to get ready for the night’s festivities. 

The next few hours were spent in your room with your lady’s maids. Pulling at your hair to get it to curl perfectly, pushing and pinching at your face to color your lips and blush your cheeks, and the most dreaded of all but the expected, corset. 

Once in your gown for the night, you were accompanied downstairs where your home had transformed into a party that was already in full swing. You put on your best smile, a false one, but a smile nonetheless, and began the night. 

After just a bit of time, your father, dressed in his best tuxedo, found you, linked his arm in yours and led you to the dining area to meet your future husband. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach with dread as you followed him to your doom and could see exactly who he was leading you to at the head of the table. You wouldn’t say he was particularly ugly, so to speak. But he wasn’t exactly what you would deem to be good looking, or even average looking for that matter. 

“Daddy,” you whispered, “I really don’t want to do this.”

You could feel your eyebrows furrowing and your face dropping as nothing but anxiety and dread flowed through your blood.

He tugged on your arm with his, pulling you closer to him in a harsh manner. He smiled and spoke to you firmly through his teeth.

“You will do this and you will do it with a smile on your face. You are twenty three years old. Do you know how difficult it was for me to find someone even willing to marry you? You should be thankful his time in the army set him just as far back as you. His time at least was well spent. Now, I should not have to remind you how to act tonight. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, Sir,” you replied through a shaky breath, feeling absolutely defeated.

Before he could even reply, you were at arms distance with your future husband- meeting him, smiling, and sitting down next to him for dinner.

Dinner was a nightmare. The only topics discussed were politics, stocks, and money- none of which you understood a word of. You just smiled and nodded throughout dinner. Desperately wishing your corset would rip at the seams if you took a deep enough breath or ate enough food, both of which would be wildly inappropriate actions on your part. 

So you sat there, uncomfortable and on the verge of tears for the night, all hid under a smile which falsely showed your eagerness to be there and to be wed. 

After dessert, the women excused themselves to bed as the men began getting ready for rounds of cigars and brandy. Your father and now fiancé bid you goodnight with kisses to your hand. A hand with, much to your dismay, showed off a newly placed diamond on your ring finger. 

Your lady’s maids met you at the base of the stairs to return to your bedroom to undress for the night but you took a turn and headed for the kitchen. 

You walked through, grabbing an untouched piece of peach pie off a plate and headed out the backdoor. 

Darkness surrounded you as you walked through the fields and down to the swing you used to play on as a little girl. You picked up the piece of pie and brought it to your mouth, taking a massive bite. You continued eating, fully letting yourself enjoy food for once.

Once the feeling of hunger was satisfied within you, there was no stopping the tears that flooded your eyes. They had become two waterfalls, and your lap had become soaked with the tears that had fallen onto it.

Your future was being chosen for you. You’d tried to fight it for so long and now, you’d finally lost the fight. 

One by one, you watched your friends marry off into wealth and start families of their own to continue the toxic cycle, knowing eventually, it would have to be you. And now, the time had come. It was you. There was no escape from it. No way out. Not even a glimmer of hope. 

You looked down at your left hand to see the ring placed there against your will earlier that night and sobbed harder. 

You should be grateful. You should be happy. You were born into wealth and were guaranteed to have it for life. You knew there were so many people out there that had it worse. So many people that deserved everything you had just been handed. You were lucky. Yet, despite everything you had, you felt every terrible feeling one could ever feel. 

The sound of footsteps in the grass behind you caused you to sit up straight and wipe your eyes and mouth.

“You alright, Miss?” you heard a deep voice speak softly from behind you. 

You turned around to see Jacob there with a knapsack slung over his shoulder.

“I’m fine, thank you, Jacob,” you replied as you turned your head back to look down at your tear soaked dress.

It was silent for a moment. The sounds of crickets and cicadas filled their air until his voice broke through the sounds of them.

“Well,” he began, “have a good night then.”

You heard his boots crunch down on the grass underneath them as he began to walk away when all of sudden, the words tumbled out from your mouth without any hesitation.

“Do you ever just feel like you’re trapped? Like you’re on a train that is going full speed into a mountain with no tunnel to go through and if there was a tunnel, no light at the end of that tunnel to save you? Like, you’re going to crash and explode into flames and all you can do is sit there and wait for your inevitable death?” 

Instantly, a sense of relief washed over you as the words you’d been holding in for so long had finally been released.

However, the instant regret of revealing your feelings to a stranger who now wasn’t speaking had begun to bubble inside you.

“I think that corset may be a little too tight, Miss. S’messin’ with your brain,'' he laughed. His voice was deep and had the tiniest twang that held onto the ends of his words. Not a lot, but just enough.

You huffed out a laugh and turned around to him again to see him smiling, with his teeth, glowing bright in the moonlight.

You reached under your dress and behind your back for the ribbon that was keeping you painfully locked in.

“There’s this, this stupid bow that I can’t get undone on it,” you said as you bit your bottom lip in concentration.

“I, I could hel-help you. If you, uh, if that’s what you want?” he asked hesitantly.

“Would you? This thing is terrible uncomfortable.”

You took your arms out of the sleeves of your dress and pushed it down, exposing the laced up piece of undergarments to him. 

Was ripping the top of your dress off your arms in front of a man you hardly knew against everything you’d ever been taught was lady-like and proper? Absolutely. 

Was wearing a ring against your will to be wed to a man who you hardly knew against everything you’d ever wanted in life? Absolutely.

It had evened itself out in your head and that was good enough for you. 

You pulled your hair in front of you and turned your head back to face forward as he walked closer to you.

“Woah,” he whispered, “I don’t want to cause any harm or disrespect, Miss. But this, this is a job for someone who… isn’t me,” he said as his eyes grew wide at the sight of the ring on your finger. 

“If you’re talking about my…” you paused and closed your eyes, “fiancé,” you continued after choking out the word, “I’ve said more words to you tonight than I’ve ever even said to him. But if you wont help me, I’ll, I’ll just do it myself,” you huffed as you reached for the satin bow behind you. 

Your fingers toyed with it, as you struggled to get it to come loose when you felt the warmth of his hands on top of yours. 

You stilled your hands as his rested on top of yours for a minute. They were big, and rough and the feeling of them was completely foreign to you.

Defeat was a familiar feeling to you so what was one more round of it? You dropped your hands back down and rested them on your lap, letting him take the lead to free you.

He pulled and tugged at the strings for a while.

“Who the hell tied this thing?” he laughed.

“My lady’s maid, Katherine started it. But my mother finished it off.”

“Jesus,” he whispered as his fingers unsuccessfully fought against the light pink ribbon for release. 

He stopped for a moment and you turned your head again to get a good look at him.

He bent down and reached into his pocket, pulling out a knife and taking the cover off it to reveal a sharp, silver blade.

You swallowed hard at the sight of a knife just inches away from your body, and someone who was practically a stranger to you holding onto it.

“Now, don’t worry. I ain’t gonna hurtcha,” he said calmly as he brought the knife to the tie and began cutting his way through it.

The tearing of the satin fabric was music to your ears and with one tug of the now cut strings from Jacob behind you, you were free.

You breathed in and out hard now that you actually could and hunched over to relax your neck and back for the first time in hours. 

“Thank you,” you breathed out. 

After a few seconds of relaxing your once stiff muscles, you stood up from the swing and turned to face him.

“The pleasure was mine,” he replied, “And I’m, uh, sorry about the ribbon. I can pay your father to replace it,” he reasoned as he put the knife back in his pocket.

“No. No it’s fine I have dozens of others, Jacob.”

“Jake,” he said bluntly.

You stared at him for a second, confused, before he continued again, “M’names Jacob. But my friends call me Jake.” 

Jake. You liked the sound of that.

You nodded your head and peered past him to see your mother in the doorway, looking out at you. 

“Well, Jake, again, I thank you kindly for your help. But I believe it’s time that I bid you goodnight,” you said, smiling at him.

“Goodnight,” he replied, lifting your right hand and bringing it to his lips.

He held eye contact with you as he placed a soft kiss to the top of your hand. 

Instantly, you felt your body light up from the inside. Your heart began racing. Your stomach began fluttering with what felt like thousands of little butterflies inside it.

The feeling of a man's lips on your hand had been felt by you before-from your father and from William just minutes earlier. However, when they did it, you felt nothing but misery and disgust. But when Jake did it, you felt the complete opposite.

He lowered your hand a bit but held onto it as he continued speaking, “If you ever need any help again, you know where to find me,” he said, lifting his chin to gesture to the barn in the direction he had come from. 

A soft smile and nod were given to him in return before you walked past him and toward your house. 

You were but a few feet past him when you heard him call out your name. 

Your head turned around to see him biting his lip and holding back a smile.

“You might wanna,” he said as he gestured for you to put your dress back over your chest and arms, “before you go inside, back to your party.”

Immediately you felt all the blood in your body rush to your cheeks and you were thankful he wouldn’t be able to see the embarrassment on  your face in the darkness of the night. 

An involuntary giggle left your lips and he let out a laugh with you. 

You lifted your dress back up over the undone corset and back over your arms, turned to face your house, and walked quickly through the grass and back inside where you fought back a smile as you snuck upstairs.

A few moments later, you entered your bedroom and peeked out your window onto the gravel street below. Sitting tall on the back of a brown horse was Jake. 

He looked up to your window and you gave him a small wave. He tipped the brim of his hat at you before giving his horse a gentle kick underneath him and trotting off into the night. 

You watched him leave with a full smile on your face and a few more butterflies in your stomach. You turned around once he was out of sight only to be met with your mother standing in the doorway of your bedroom with a straight face, staring back at you. 

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[neopuff]

title: the fall of a sparrow (chap1: what a wounded name) word count: ~3700 characters: holiday, six, white knight summary: Providence was very different before Rex. chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/neopuff/721160769391181824/title-the-fall-of-a-sparrow-chap2-the-rest-is ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48147466

She didn't used to get migraines.

After almost two years working for Providence, Rebecca found that migraines came significantly more often than a decent-tasting meal or an opportunity to socialize with someone genuine. She'd started to get used to the constant pounding behind her eyes and she'd built up a sizable collection of over-the-counter pain medication.

She was always vigilant about not using too much. Always careful not to rely solely on the meds. But sometimes it was difficult. She was very, very tired. It was hard to pretend she didn't just want to drown herself in acetaminophen and go to sleep. 

But she couldn't. Beverly needed her. And Beverly's life depended entirely on Rebecca's continued diligence and loyalty. She refused to let her down.

Two years was a long time, though. She'd been loyal to Providence that entire time, no matter how much she hated it. And she hated so much about it - her peers constantly dismissing her, the soldiers constantly harassing her, everyone constantly ridiculing her for idealistically believing that things could be better. That there was a way to look at the state of their world that didn't rely on giving up.

She was perfectly aware of how people talked about her. No one seemed to care that she was a human being with feelings, just like they didn't care that many of these mutants - EVOs, if anyone would listen to her - used to be human, too. No one cared. They wanted the destruction or the paycheck or the glory. And all she wanted was to be able to hear her sister's voice again.

(Often, Rebecca would spend her free time reading up on other nanite research organizations. Before Beverly mutated and she had no other option, Holiday had been fielding job offers from a number of places. The US Department of Energy, the Center for Disease Control, the World Health Organization… Providence spent too much money on tanks and soldiers so she’d barely considered their offer until they had weapons trained on her sister’s unconscious body.)

And so, Rebecca stayed put. She collected her paltry salary in exchange for Beverly's life. She woke up every morning, zipped up her boots, and analyzed repetitive, pointless data for a sadistic man that loved to see her squirm. She ate two meals on a good day, drank way too much coffee, took a few painkillers and hoped the headaches would pass. She ignored the feeling of unfamiliar hands on her ass as groups of soldiers passed by, cheering about their latest kill. And she didn't protest as what was left of her family and friends pulled away from her and her intensely busy new life - leaving Rebecca alone and quite lonely.

Being lonely often led to bad decisions, which was how Rebecca found herself waking up in a bed that wasn't hers on the morning after an attempted date with a coworker. Well - coworker probably wasn't the right word, but saying she slept with a hired gun wouldn't make her feel any better about what had happened. She knew he wasn't really interested in what she had to say, but it was so nice that someone actually let her talk for once that she didn't care. And in a mistaken bout of gratitude, she'd slept with him.

It wasn't bad. It wasn't particularly good, either. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that Holiday was feeling so low about herself that she had traded sex for an uninterrupted hour of optimism and she needed to make sure to never do something like that again. 

Afterwards, soldiers started knocking on her door more often than ever with expectations that they could have a good time if they pretended to listen to her for an evening. Obviously Rebecca didn't want a reputation like that, but once it started there was no way to turn it off. It took several months of celibacy before things went back to the way they’d been before (which, compared to her life pre-Providence, still wasn’t great).

It was just another reminder that she didn't get along with soldiers. The hired guns were all the same to her. Even the one who thought himself too good for the Providence uniform - she'd never interacted with him but she'd noticed him staring at her from a distance several times - was no different. They treated the war like a game. They didn't care. Half of them knew someone personally who'd mutated and they still didn't care, because why should they care about monsters? Mutating was a betrayal and a death sentence and there was no coming back.

Despite all of the negativity and ridicule directed her way, Rebecca still talked to anyone who would listen about the research she wanted to do and her hopes for the future. She couldn't talk to her superiors without consequence, but she needed to tell someone her theories. Even if that someone just wanted to fuck her or laugh at her, maybe they'd retain a tiny piece of information that could make it to someone else and start a chain reaction of giving a shit. If she could get even one hired gun to stop referring to mutated children as spoiled meat, it would be worth it. Even if he just wanted to mock her or sleep with her or report her. She was still going to tell the truth since none of the other scientists bothered.

Dr. Fell was a closed-minded, hard-hearted asshole. He treated her like a burden while simultaneously making her do as much work for him as possible. Rebecca let him do and say whatever he wanted because he could fire her at any moment and then Beverly would be dead and the years she’d wasted at Providence would’ve been for nothing. But it was hard going day after day without correcting his misinformation or pointing out the errors in his equations or trying to make him understand that repeating the same molecular dissection over and over and over again wasn’t going to yield different results. It was the textbook definition of insanity and she had no choice but to sit there and participate.

There was a certain point in their working relationship when Holiday let a complaint slip - not to an HR representative because why would Providence care about the wellbeing of their employees? - but to someone she'd thought was a neutral party. Instead, the complaint found its way to Fell, who decided to start focusing their dissection efforts on large arachnoid mutants.

He didn’t point it out and she didn’t comment, but the threat was very clear.

When Fell started inviting soldiers to watch dissections like it was a show, Holiday got even worse at holding her tongue. How was she meant to sit idly by while these men would watch the total irreversible destruction of living beings? They treated it like entertainment and she was being forced to perform. It was impossible not to say something, even when their esteemed guests just mocked her.

She was so, so tired. Tired of soldiers. Tired of sadists. Tired of having to remind grunts that her sister had to be fed daily, not just when they felt like it.

Rebecca sat on the edge of her bed every night and wondered if any of this would be worth it in the end. But with the way things were going, she wasn't sure if there even would be an end.

x

Providence wasn't of any interest to him.

Six was used to working in a more…freelance environment. Occasionally partnering with a trusted friend he'd made several years earlier, but never staying in one place for too long. He liked to be on the move - that made it much harder for anyone to track him.

But after The Nanite Event, things changed. The worldwide mutations had put a temporary hold on his industry - very temporary, but it was a noticeable gap between jobs - and he needed both an outlet for his anxious adrenaline and a new source of income.

Knight had informed Six about Providence early on - he was among the first group of soldiers itching for an opportunity to join the fight against their mutating brethren. He'd thought Six would enjoy the challenge, since he'd expressed boredom towards his career path once or twice in the past. Six rejected the offer initially, but after a few months (and after his master's transformation), he decided to give it a shot.

Six had never fought with large groups before. The only thing that made his new position tolerable was getting to work in groups of two or three at a time, and the fact that he was just contracted for the time being. He didn't get healthcare or benefits, but he was making plenty of money. Providence had a surprising amount of money at their disposal, which Knight claimed came from exorbitantly wealthy investors.

He didn't really care about the details, nor did he care why Knight knew so much about it. As One's condition got worse and worse, Six found himself caring about anything other than his master less and less. He didn't enjoy fighting or killing anymore. He lost interest in sex and he lost interest in food. Nothing brought him pleasure anymore.

It made things a bit awkward with Knight, sometimes. Knight had gotten a new spice for life thanks to the mutation crisis - something about being able to participate on the noble side of a war that made him feel like a hero. But Six didn't feel like a hero. He felt worthless. And the people around him were clearly picking that up from his attitude. He couldn't help it, though. Killing or capturing every mutant they met was a pointless, aimless task. It seemed to him that eventually, every human and every animal would mutate. They couldn't cage the entire world. So where did it all lead?

Would he someday have to capture or kill One?

Six didn't think he could do that. He didn't want to. He wanted One to go back to normal and for his life to go back to the way it used to be. He was never a very happy person, but at least back then he could find small joys in life. He used to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and no one could force him otherwise. Not even his master. And that was a life he'd enjoyed. He’d never appreciated it enough when he’d had it.

Taking a full-time position at Providence - after six months of contract work - was the point where Six realized he was starting to give up on One. It was accepting that the life he used to live was done. It was putting his number on an employee registry. It was affiliating his name with a group other than the one he’d given his entire life to. 

But hey - they gave him a decent-sized room with a surprisingly comfortable bed and his own bathroom. Three meals a day, if he felt like eating. Unlimited access to weapons. And all he had to do was whatever Knight told him to and take down mutants before they could hurt anyone.

Before they could hurt any of the remaining real humans, Knight would specify. He'd go on and on about how people who mutated were weak or deserved it and the truly worthwhile and strong would stay human forever.

One was proof that Knight was completely wrong, but Six never felt the urge to argue. His friend only knew One by reputation and certainly didn't know about One's condition. That wasn’t any of his business, after all, and the Numbers had done everything they could to keep it private.

There were days at Providence that Six wanted to leave. He’d stopped pretending to be invested in their operation not long after becoming full-time, but it was only when he heard from the other Numbers about One or about them struggling to continue their lifestyle that he thought about walking away. He didn’t need to be there.

Knight certainly didn’t need him - he was extremely friendly with the other soldiers at Providence, and even some of the scientists. He was so social these days that Six often wondered if he was the same mercenary he’d befriended so many years ago. The White Knight he knew was an ideal mercenary - excited for every hunt and every kill - but he was secretive and paranoid. He was bitter at the world and he didn’t like other people.

The new Knight, Providence Knight - he was cheery. He whistled, he smiled, he spoke highly about his peers. He was always on top of the world. And Six could not understand how.

As Knight grew more social, Six became more and more reclusive. He’d talk to as few people as possible, kill or capture all the mutants that he could, and only bother with meals he could eat while walking back to his room. It was a quiet way to live, but he didn’t want anything else.

There were a lot of things he used to enjoy that he couldn’t anymore. One of which he found himself thinking of every time he heard from Five - but he wasn’t going back to her. What they’d had together hadn’t been good for either of them, but now that he was slumming it in Providence Headquarters, the options for available women were limited.

That thought process occasionally brought him to one woman that had caught his eye. She was a doctor that worked for Knight’s friend, Dr. Fell. And she was fantastically beautiful. Though Six had no intention of ever seducing her or even talking to her, he did find himself occasionally thinking of her when he needed to relax. She was barely a person to him, just a token or a reminder that there were still good things in the world.

(He’d overheard a lot of rumors that attempted to crush the image of perfection he’d created for her in his tired, depressed mind. Six ignored them and chose to believe what he wanted. It wasn’t like he’d ever get to know her. She was just a pretty face to keep his mind off the constant stench of death coating his hands.)

Thoughts of her weren’t enough to prevent him from isolating further - Six couldn’t stop himself. Without One’s guidance; without One’s presence, he was completely lost.

About two years into working for Providence, Six noticed that his partner was paying him a lot of extra attention. As if he’d finally noticed how little joy Six got out of anything in his life. It would’ve been nice if he weren’t so constantly agitated by Knight’s peppy attitude. But Knight didn’t care - he just paid compliment after compliment, making sure Six knew how much he was appreciated. How much he was needed. How much he was helping to keep the human race safe.

Six didn’t care about any of that. He was just tired. He just wanted the war to end and for everything to go back to normal. That was all he wanted.

x

He enjoyed being a mercenary.

White Knight had spent the better part of twenty years hunting and killing for money. He was good at it, thanks to his handful of years in Special OPS. And he had all the connections a guy like him needed to keep it up for a long, long time.

But sometimes, occasionally, rarely…he missed out on some of his favorite parts of being in the army. He missed the camaraderie, he missed the opportunity to command, he missed the glory, and he missed being a hero. As much as he enjoyed killing, it was the opportunity to save innocents by killing others that made his blood really flow. Ending one life to save thousands of others was never a question for him - it was simply the only choice that one could make.

When the mutations started, Knight didn’t know what to think. Every news outlet was spouting different theories of what the cause could be and every scientific giant on the planet was trying to get their name on the first vaccine.

Personally, he thought it was pointless. What mattered was exactly what they could see - people were transforming into giant, hideous, uncontrollable monsters. And there was no turning back.

Providence started making waves just two months after the mutations began. White Knight heard about it from some army buddies that knew he was enjoying his life in the private sector. They’d all enlisted with Providence in the hopes that it’d give them the same high they used to get while fighting covert missions overseas.

He didn’t hesitate for a second before joining. Of course, Knight offered the job to his partner, but Six had never been military. The biggest team he’d ever worked with was six people and from what he’d been told, any more than three of them usually led to disaster. Nonetheless, he knew Six would have a lot to offer Providence if he’d give it a chance. They’d always been good at working together, and it’d be fun to see Six in a new environment, but his friend didn’t seem interested.

Knight, on the other hand, was not going to miss an opportunity to kill hideous monsters and save countless lives. It would be nice to feel like a hero again.

Though he was pushing 40, working with all the soldiers at Providence made him feel like a 22-year-old again. A 22-year-old with a lot more authority and an army of strong, excitable soldiers ready to ask "how high?" when he gave an order.

His age and experience (and the quick employee turnaround due to high mortality) led to Knight becoming one of the most well-known and well-liked soldiers at Providence within just a few months. It was true that Providence wasn't quite military, they didn't bother with titles like General or Captain. Knight didn't love that and mentioned to his teams time and time again the benefits of a proper chain of command on the battlefield. But he did love being able to talk strategy amongst not just soldiers, but scientists, too.

Some of the mutants didn't need to be killed right away. Studying them was the best way to know how to destroy them, after all. And many of them possessed abilities that could be utilized by the human side. Dr. Fell was a brilliant man who kept his priorities straight, and Knight was proud to work alongside him. He even leveraged his friendship with Dr. Fell to convince Six to come on-board, and it worked surprisingly well.

Six had always been reclusive. Even when he drank and smoked and womanized, he’d still keep to himself as much as he could. Knight had always considered himself honored to be able to get a glimpse of the man behind the sunglasses, even just one small piece at a time. But he always felt that Six wasn’t reaching his full potential. He was a tremendously amazing fighter, but he never seemed to derive joy from it the way he should’ve.

Killing humans was repetitive. It was understandable that he’d lost interest over the years and just saw it as a job. But killing monsters was new, and unique, and dangerous. Knight knew Providence was just the thing to reignite the fire under Six’s ass, so getting him more involved was a victory in itself.

Everything about Providence had felt like a victory to him. He had respect and power and he was able to protect the human race from the foreign machines that were turning weak men and children into mutants. He was excited to be on the right side of history - when the survivors of this war wrote about Providence in their history books, the name White Knight would stand out as a leader and a savior.

So when Six finally moved from being a temp to taking a full-time position with Providence, Knight was very excited for his friend. He was ready to really work together again and take down the monsters that other soldiers couldn’t.

But his friend didn’t seem to see it that way. Instead of getting more invested in his work, Six got quieter and more reserved. He became somehow even less social than he used to be, and after a few months on the job, White wouldn’t have hesitated to call him whiny.

Because Six started complaining. Half the things he’d say were complaints about the way Providence ran things, and it really pissed Knight off. He’d done so much work at Providence, making it safe and secure. They were the leading organization in mutant capture and study and Six spent his free time muttering about it being pointless.

Knight was concerned, obviously. He’d gone out of his way to build a comfortable life for his friend, and the thanks he got was…that. Against his better judgment, he reached out to one of Six’s long-time associates to see if there was anything he could do to fix things.

“Bit of a lost cause, but…well. His birthday’s comin’ up. Get ‘im somethin’ nice.”

Six would’ve killed him if he knew he’d contacted any of his old team, but Knight was excited for an opportunity to cheer his friend up without it coming across as pity. He’d give him a nice gift and show him exactly how much progress Providence scientists were making on the spoiled meat they’d been caging up. If Six felt like capturing mutants was pointless, he just needed to see what they were being used for.

If only his friend understood that by destroying a few, they were saving everyone else. It was an honorable, worthwhile cause. And just because certain loudmouth, shrieking, annoying scientists couldn’t see the merit of their own work, that didn’t mean Six needed to fall into that same self-destructive mindset.

#generator rex #rebecca holiday #agent six #white knight #carrofics #chap2 is coming in a second and its so fucking long

[shveris]

jar of sins

rias knew he was a foul man but shu knew better

tags: assasin!rias, sniper!shu, strangers to lovers, self-indulgent, (rias is in an agency and his field of work is assassinations), (box is his supervisor)

rias was very upset when his boss told him he will be working with someone outside the company — very upset.

the agent grit his teeth in annoyance: “this has to be a bad joke, how can we even trust-“

“rias, dear, do me a favor and shut your pretty mouth. you’re here to do a job, aren’t you.” the way the white haired glared at him, eyes piercing blue and making the brunette halt in his protest. he’d have to deal with a complete stranger for months, trying to overcome his trust issues while attempting to spy on their target.

it wasn’t like box didn’t know rias had his problems, the agent was sure at this point the whole company knew about it — the way rias would never accept missions with someone else; always going solo like the lone wolf fox everyone saw him as; he would always eat by himself in the cafeteria as well; train alone; never participate in group bounding activities.

but rias liked it that way — how could he not, after being used to it for all his life —, he liked not getting bothered during his missions, taking his time (but never too much), focusing on what was important and without dead weight possibly ruining the whole thing for him.

it’s been roughly three months since that, said hired sniper was none other than shu yamino — a young man with hair way too colorful for rias’ taste as it could easily draw unwanted attention at them — and eyes too attentive to his liking.

their mission was quite complicated, only a handful people even knowing about it; the dragon sisters had saved his life a handful of times, he was fine with them; eki eviland was beyond skilled with every type of weapon, having him as backup was only a logical conclusion (although rias didn’t like the toxic smiles he would get from him); luca kanekuro was blunt and came in like a wrecking ball, no matter the location or situation, save to say box and rias agreed on kuro being their last straw if something should go beyond south.

their current location was ███, the warm summer sun melting shu’s ice cream as he walked along the shore, footprints in the sand getting washed away with every new wave of salty water; it was like shu never existed at this beach and the agent didn’t know what to think of that.

rias was holding onto two pairs of shoes as he watched the sniper in front of him, the ravenette happily humming a tune the killer’s never heard before, yet found himself swimming in comfort like they did yesterday evening in the hidden bay next to their apartment.

this was so wrong.

███ the ███ of ███ should not look like a summer vacation, even if it was an undercover mission and a tiring long process. the tiny apartment they lived in together got cozier and cozier by the day, the orange morning sun softly embracing the sleeping sniper whenever rias checked up on him before going on a morning run (patrol).

shu would look like a heaven-sent angel, golden rays hugging him soft, painting him with what seemed like honey; the sniper looked sweet and innocent, as if he hadn’t killed more men than rias. he asked himself how an ethereal looking creature like shu yamino could ever do harm to anyone or anything.

rias didn’t like it, how warm the apartment felt compared to the rest of the world; how he felt the need to stop time when shu was just minding his own business in the living room, cleaning his beloved rifle while humming the same strange tune again, giving him the need to ask what song it was so they could both hum it together.

he didn’t even know what was going on inside his own head anymore, all he wanted to think about was how pretty the sniper looked in the dim evening lights.

“shu.” the ravenette turned his head and looked at the broad man in the doorway, eyes blinking in surprise. rias had never called him by his first name, it was only ever yamino this, sniper boy that, but never shu.

“y-yeah?”, he mustered up some of his courage, “everything alright, mysta?” the assassin needed some time to process what just happened.

it has been decades since someone used his birth name; a name and person he associated with weakness and vulnerability, two things he absolutely hated about humans. it made them stupid and naive — but the second it rolled over shu’s tongue, so soft and graceful, he wanted to be weak and vulnerable, to be human, to be with the ravenette, feeling everything he never felt in his life ever, simply because he didn’t allow himself to. rias always thought being weak was bad but shu had taught him different; shu had taught him that being fragile wasn’t a bad thing, that it was okay to have someone to hold you up if you yourself couldn’t anymore.

he slowly walked towards the sniper, an expression on his face shu has never seen before.

“it’s… nothing”, the brunette sat down next to him before pulling shu’s smaller framed body into his lap, “i just wanted to say your name.” shu understood, he always managed to, and rias stopped questioning how he did it (“is that man a sorcerer?”).

“okay”, shu only whispered, a heart he learned to treasure beating against his back, warmth making him feel cozy and sleepy, the arms around his waist and the chin on his shoulder fit so perfect into every nook on his body, he didn’t even realize how many butterflies were forming inside himself.

shu got lost in an unfamiliar aura, his senses slowly pausing as he fell asleep — he didn’t even know he was this tired.

the next week was packed with curious touches, unsure words and unfamiliar feelings of… something — rias was a bit scared of it and shu tried to understand.

their first kiss was warm and nervous, a shy peck on the lips, and rias felt his chest swell at the red petals blooming across shu’s cheeks as he laughed in joy. they repeated the action, over and over, again and again; never once did they go too wild, too empty, just soft and loving gestures.

it became a lucid routine for shu to fall asleep on rias’ chest every evening (or just for naps in the afternoon, when they filled up some energy for late night outings, manly for their missions, sometimes when shu managed to persuade rias for a date), his cheek pressed against his favorite sound in the world (rias’ heartbeat) and scarred arms wrapped around his waist oh so perfectly, it was almost ridiculous to the assassin, how their bodies fit together like long lost puzzle pieces.

but he didn’t dare complain; he didn’t dare get upset over shu’s hands fitting into his like they were made to be; he didn’t dare be mad when shu nuzzled his face into his neck; he didn’t dare complain whenever shu decided to invade his personal space.

“what are you doing?” shu raised his head at the question, amethyst eyes looking like stars rias wanted to hold onto forever and maybe longer.

“i’m making stars”, he smiled and- oh, rias thought, a star making stars, how fitting.

his teal eyes wandered down to purple pained nails and delicate hands, paper strips on the wooden table and a jar of colorful little stars almost filling all of the glass. the assassin didn’t question how shu managed to fit that into his tiny suitcase.

rias sat himself down next to the sniper, watching him fold the bits into stars, chin resting in the palm of his scarred hand. the silence of their soft breathing and heartbeats became rias’ favorite sound and it never failed to make his body relax.

“every star”, shu whispered, “is for someone i killed.”

after another month they finally got the opportunity — the opportunity to strike. but it also meant leaving their new found home, their new found love and new found memories they had made together in that apartment they learned to find their never existing comfort in.

“don’t worry”, shu only told the agent. but both of them worried anyways. it was more than dangerous to date in their area of work, not to mention being partners for the same mission. rias had expressed his thoughts of quitting after this, he was tired anyway, his body and mind too exhausted to keep up with killing disgusting people off the face of earth-thing.

shu had only nodded and understood, promised to support him in whatever situation he will end up being. rias had learned that the sniper picked up on the job simply because be liked it — the thrill, the adrenaline after the first shot before running to the next spot, the heavy gun in his arms.

their mission went smooth, a little too smooth to rias’ liking. his killer instincts screamed for survival for once, screaming for shu’s safety. the assassin became hyperaware as they ran through dark alleyways-

a loud beeping sound made rias groan in agony.

his back found the wall of a building; he could hear his ribs breaking, head spinning, trying to sort his thoughts-

“SHU!” he couldn’t even properly understand his own yell, the explosion temporarily erasing his hearing. everything was covered in debris, dust, smoke, but where was his sniper.

he could barely get himself up again, adrenalin making him do things out of humanities understanding sometimes. he didn’t care, all he cared about was shu — his warmth, his comfort, his home, his love. his first love he couldn’t spend enough time with just yet. he knew life never treated him well or fair but this made all his strings snap.

rias didn’t realize how busy it suddenly got around him, eki screaming something at him and the assassin didn’t even question where his coworker came from. or kanekuro, who was clearly too furious about the chaos.

rias’ heart dropped to his stomach as his tired eyes found the still body of his boyfriend surrounded by more debris and blood — so much blood. rias could feel his body run cold, his chest tighten even more (as if his lungs didn’t hurt enough at this point). the world was lucky that day because shu was, in fact and for scientifically unexplainable reasons, still breathing.

box didn’t question the hefty hospital bill he found at his office desk three weeks later. he also didn’t question the short letter rias had written him; “i’m quitting. if you’re in trouble you know how to find me”. the white haired man smiled fondly, sipping his coffee.

i love me domestic boyfriends with a hint of violence, angst and ptsd.

the fic on ao3 and my twitter

#ao3 crosspost #shussy #rias

[valentineforlemonandcherry]

Foxtail & Wolfsbane Part 27

Summary: Your lifelong obsession to hunt down the Nine-Tailed Fox has not gone as expected, and seventeen years later, you find yourself coming back to the place where it all started: Hogwarts. However, with Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and Headmaster Dumbledore’s hire of a certain Professor R. J. Lupin, you suddenly find yourself intertwined in the fates of those with whom you thought you had parted ways with long ago.

[Multi-Post Story] [Rowan Scamander x Reader] [Remus Lupin x Reader] [Young Sirius Black x Reader] [Tristan Graves x Reader] [Severus Snape x Reader]

[Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.] [Warning: Rough Sex.] [Warning: Possessiveness.] [Warning: Degradation.] [Warning: Humiliation.] [Warning: Nonconsent.] [Warning: Light Spanking.] 

*Note: Rowan Scamander, Tristan Graves, Susana Holmes, Cas Carneirus, Henrietta Weiss, and Thomas Picquery are OC characters.

*Note: While the depicted sexual acts are consensual, there are explicit nonconsent aspects interspersed throughout this part. Please make sure to take care of yourself and do not read if, for any reason, you are uncomfortable with this type of content. 

*Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

☾ Click Here for Foxtail & Wolfsbane Home Page (All Chapter Links) ☾

When you and Rowan got off the train stop, a newspaper seller was frantically waving newspapers in the air and shouting, “Extra! Extra! Sirius Black escapes again – from right under the Minister’s nose! Read all about it!”

“What?” In total disbelief, you grabbed a newspaper out of the seller’s hand.

Sure enough, the front news read: SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES THE NOOSE AGAIN! FUDGE HUMILIATED. “WE HAD HIM CORNERED,” FUDGE SWEARS.

“How in Merlin’s name is this possible?” you growled. “We saw Black, didn’t we? He was practically dead when we came across him on the shores of the Great Lake.”

Rowan frowned deep enough that his handsome face creased. “How could Cas have failed? She never makes a mistake.”

A terrible thought struck you. “Oh no, what if it’s my fault? What if it’s because I ran away so quickly?”

“Well, you wouldn’t have been of any help to us if you’d let the Fox eat your soul,” Rowan pointed out. “And I had to be there to help you.”

“Still…” you whispered, suddenly frightened.

Rowan shook his head at the newspaper. “I can’t believe Black managed to slip through everyone’s fingers again.”

“Should we go back?” you wondered. “What if Harry’s not safe?”

“I’m sure Dumbledore’s keeping a close watch on Potter,” Rowan said grimly, as he stashed away the newspaper.

Looking up at you, Rowan noticed that fluffy white fox ears had popped up on your ears again. He reached over and pulled your hood up. “Seems like I’ve got to keep an eye on you.”

“What?”

“Your fox ears are back.”

“Already?” You reached up and felt the top of your head. Sure enough, there they were. “But we just made love. Damn it! What if we have to do it again?”

Rowan shot you a look. “Thanks, love. Exactly what every man wants to hear.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Knowing that the ship scanner might pick up the Fox’s presence within you again, you decided to travel to Japan via a Portkey. It was quite a good thing that you had Rowan with you. Since he and his father were famous as travelling Magizoologists, Rowan was able to acquire a license quite easily.

When the booth worker saw Rowan’s name on his identification papers, she transformed into someone who was very bright. Holding out the two tickets as if she were giving Rowan some sort of prize, she beamed at him. “The Portkey will be waiting for you tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you,” Rowan said quietly.

“Any time! You’re welcome to come back any time.”

Rowan turned away from the booth.

As you followed him, you murmured, “Merlin, I almost feel like you should come back.”

“What?”

You nodded your head back towards the booth. “She was trying very hard to catch your attention.”

Ignoring you, Rowan started to walk forward.

You hurriedly caught up to him. Sticking your head out to see his expression, you aloud, “Didn’t you see how into you she was? And she was very cute, in my humble opinion.”

Rowan pushed your face away. “Stop talking rubbish,” he remarked briskly. “Now, let’s go find an inn.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

As soon as Rowan told the innkeeper his name, the innkeeper immediately became more attentive. “Oh, yes, sir, right away, I can show you to your room. Please follow me. Right this way!”

The innkeeper led the two of you to a huge room, stocked with all sorts of fancy items.

“I didn’t pay for an exclusive room,” Rowan said quietly. “I only paid for a regular.”

“Oh nonsense, this is just mere courtesy! It’s on the house, sir,” the innkeeper assured him.

The innkeeper didn’t notice Rowan sigh, but you did, because you were standing right next to him.

“Fine.” Rowan’s voice sounded weary. “Thank you.”

The innkeeper bowed before he left.

Rowan pulled off his cloak and tossed it aside before falling back on the bed. “People are exhausting,” he breathed out.  

You took off your own cloak. “People shouldn’t feel exhausting to you, Rowan. Not when they’re tripping over their feet to make you comfortable.”

Rowan barked out a short, bitter laugh. “Comfortable?” He pulled roughly at the top buttons of his shirt, which were pressing up against his throat.

You folded up Rowan’s cloak neatly before walking over to the bed. You sat down on the bed next to Rowan and you slapped his hands away from his shirt.

“What?” Rowan grumbled slightly. “What’re you slapping at me for?”

“You’ll ruin your shirt if you undo your buttons like that,” you told him. “Now just calm down. I’ll do it for you.”

You tugged at his buttons gently, letting the small circles slip through the little slits on his handsome shirt, one by one.

Rowan stared at you, as if he was trying to figure you out. “You’re a lot more caring than before. Why is that?”

It’s because I spent so much time trying to figure out how to be there for Remus.

“Grew up,” you replied shortly. “High time, don’t you think?”

“Are you putting on an act right now?” A rather sharp edge appeared in Rowan’s voice. “Now that you’ve seen the way others treat me, d’you reckon you better jump in, too?”

You stared down at Rowan with confusion written across your face. “What…?”

“I reckon the only reason you ever wanted me when we were younger was because my father was a famous Magizoologist and you thought I might be able to help you.” Rowan stared up at you coldly, not responding at all to the hurt beginning to appear in your expression. “Isn’t that right?” His voice dropped to a low, almost seductive whisper, as he murmured, “You can tell me if it’s true. I won’t be angry. I’ll only be angry if you lie to me.”

“Rowan, I didn’t like you because of your father,” you replied. “And, please, let’s be honest – you weren’t much help to me because you wanted to be a general Magizoologist, and I only - ”

“ – Cared for the Nine-Tailed Fox,” Rowan finished for you.

You nodded.

“But then, why did you put up with me?” Rowan wondered.

Starting to get annoyed, you responded gruffly, “I didn’t ‘put up’ with you. I was glad whenever you came and found me. You were my best friend.”

Slowly, the coldness in Rowan’s eyes and the tautness in his jaw melted away. He reached up and touched your face.

You were still confused as to what was going on, but you felt that Rowan was at the edge of something. You let him gently caress your face and you hoped he would calm down.

Well, Rowan both did and didn’t calm down. He was no longer angry, but he pulled you down so that you were lying on top of him. He hugged you tightly, so tightly he was squeezing you in his arms.

“Ah, Rowan…” you breathed out. “What’s – What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rowan murmured, gently tracing your throat with jaw with his nose and lips.

You tried very hard to free your hands, but the best you could do was manage to squeeze your hand up onto his chest. You grabbed onto the front of his shirt, panting a little from the strange exercise.

“Do you really have to hug me so hard?” you complained.

“Yes, I do.”

“But why?”

“Because otherwise, you’ll slip away, nymph.”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” you countered.

“Still, you never know. Might just be a part of your spell that you lure me into a false sense of security.”

You scoffed.

Rowan looked down at you, amused. “You scoff like that, but remember, the only reason you let me tag along with you was because I went after you. You would have left me behind, just like everyone else.”

You sighed. “Are you teasing me? Because if you are, this is a strange way to do it.”

Rowan rolled over on the bed. He was still holding you, so that now, you were not only being hugged by him, but you were also pinned under him.

“Ah…” Your breath was gently pushed out of you as Rowan pressed against you.

“So you’ve caught on, have you?” Rowan murmured. “I am teasing you, to make up for all of the times I wanted to, but didn’t when we were still at school together.”

Your reply was a simple mutter of, “Christ, you’re heavy.”

“‘M all grown up now, too,” Rowan told you, with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Strong enough to hold you wherever I want you now and tease you for as long as I want.”

You stared at Rowan dubiously.

Rowan broke into a soft laugh at your expression. “You don’t like being teased, do you?”

“No,” you said, rather sourly. “I’ve never liked it.”

Rowan abruptly understood why your expression was so sour. She was always teased in school.

“No, don’t misunderstand.” A note of seriousness entered Rowan’s voice. “I’m the only one allowed to tease you now, and that’s only because you can feel safe with me. If anyone else ever tried to make fun of you ever again, I wouldn’t let them.”

You blinked up at Rowan. “You wouldn’t let them…?”

Rowan paused. You could sense a heaviness settling in his soul and you could tell that he was deciding whether or not to tell you something.

“What?” you pressed, unable to be as patient as you’d like to be. “What is it you want to say?”

Rowan started to speak, in a very slow and thoughtful voice. “I wanted you to be safe. I always wanted to play the ‘good guy’ role in front of you. What I mean by that is - I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. Because you didn’t – and you still don’t. I wasn’t doing anything special. Those other kids were just being jerks to you.”

“Well, that’s exactly what you did,” you replied softly. “You always protected me, but you shrugged it off, like it wasn’t much. Even though you were the only one that ever did that for me. And then I understood – you would have stuck up for anyone in my position. It wasn’t personal. I know that. I’ve always known that.”

Speaking slightly more quickly, Rowan murmured, “That’s what I wanted you to think.”

Your brow furrowed. “You keep saying that. What do you mean?”

Rowan looked away from you, as he confessed, “The truth is that when the other kids were mean to you, I tried to act like it didn’t bother me, as if the only important thing was to be mature – to tell them off and then get you out of there. Still, every time it happened, I also wanted to make them eat their words, I wanted them to hurt as much as they hurt you and more, and then I wanted to take you away somewhere and have you all to myself.”

A deep growl began to present itself in Rowan’s voice, and you could feel it rumble through his chest as he spoke.  

You slowly began to realize, Rowan’s very possessive, isn’t he? Other people might use teasing to try to act possessive, but Rowan is genuinely possessive and he pretends to tease to make it all feel lighter.

Rowan blinked, as if suddenly remembering where he was. He glanced down at you. In that moment, seeing the hesitation clouding your expression, Rowan let his guard down. He buried his face against your neck and whispered, in a soft voice that you’d never heard him use before, “I always wanted you to be safe… I still feel that for you. But it would be a lie to say that that was all I wanted. It’s just that I thought you’d distance yourself from me if I confessed this to you – but I always hoped that, someday, you’d declare yourself as mine.”

You knew you were supposed to say something, but the right words weren’t rising in your mind. You didn’t understand what was going on in Rowan’s mind right now. I feel like Rowan needs me right now. But surely he knows how independent I’ve always been. I can’t promise all of myself to him. That would be a promise I could never keep.

Meanwhile, Rowan was thinking, Oh no, she’s silent. Have I really scared her off? He finally mustered up the courage to lift his head. Putting one hand out, he hovered over you and gazed down at you.

You immediately started to turn your head away, but Rowan pressed his hand against your face, making you look up at him. He murmured quietly, “I didn’t want you to see this side of me that – that so badly wants something of my own. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

You forced yourself to speak – to say something, while praying that you wouldn’t say something foolish. “But what do you mean by that, Rowan? Do you still want me that way? Or are you just talking about past feelings?” You shook your head a little as you reminded him, “I thought you said you didn’t believe in love anymore.”

“It’s true,” Rowan confirmed. “I don’t believe in love. I don’t see how that could possibly exist in our world. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel for you. Besides, all I know right now is that… I want you. I know for a fact that a part of me has always wanted you.” He smiled ruefully. “I didn’t realize that it would take so many years for these childish feelings to play themselves out. I guess I miscounted for that.”

Your head was buzzing with further questions, but at the very least, Rowan had told you straightforwardly that he wanted you. You had to admit to yourself that it felt good to have someone who clearly wanted you as theirs, who wasn’t always playing some balancing game. With Severus, Tristan, and Remus – there was always something being held back, some form of separation that remained undiscovered, some intimacy that was out-of-bounds.

With Rowan, no matter what, that challenge didn’t exist. Perhaps it was because it was your second chance together or because both of you had secretly given up on any pure concept of love, but now, there was no distinction between the two of you. You felt that when Rowan said, “mine,” he meant it – it was an act of possession, a kind of want so strong it wasn’t necessarily a soft, gentle thing, the way you had always imagined love to be, but all-encompassing. Before Rowan, even the Fox and you melded together because he didn’t care to distinguish. It was simple: If the fox was yours, it was his, too.

You reached out and curiously touched Rowan’s face. All those nights I spent missing him… Before I met - Your heart ached, and you shut off your thoughts, deciding, Well, what does it matter? Rowan’s here with me now. And I don’t want to be caught up in the past anymore.

You felt a soft moonlit shadow move around in your soul, and you knew the Fox was signaling her approval at your choice to move on.

Rowan was still waiting for your reply. Your hand slipped from his face, down his throat, to his chest. You pressed your hand against his chest, over his heart. How much of you is a stranger to me now? How much of you has always been a stranger to me? I guess neither of us knew each other as well as we thought we did. Or else, both of us have changed a lot. But we’re here together now… And we still feel for each other. That much is undeniable. But I wonder where that will lead us, and whether it will be enough to heal the hurts we seem to be holding in our hearts.

Rowan glanced down at your hand. He wondered what you were expecting to find in his heartbeat.

You finally spoke. In a slightly hoarse, yet teasing voice, you whispered, “Well, make me yours, if that’s what you really want.”

A soft smirk broke through Rowan’s serious demeanor, as his own mischievousness rose remarkably quickly to meet yours. “Is that a challenge, little fox?”

You smiled rather mysteriously. For a moment, Rowan saw the light swishing of the Fox’s tails in your eyes. And there it was, a message written in your eyes, saying: Kiss me.

Pressing you down into the bed, Rowan shifted forward as he bent down to kiss you. Sliding his hands up your wrists and slipping his fingers in-between through yours, he gripped your hands tightly. You felt his palms push against yours, effectively pinning your hands down against the bed. The sheets started to cave in around both of your hands, as they sank into the bed.

You lifted your head, trying to kiss Rowan back. Feeling you move under him, Rowan growled and pushed his mouth against you harder. Meanwhile, his hips were pressing down against yours. Sinking into the bed the way you were, you felt as though you were slowly sinking a cloud. On a cloud… Such a silly thought. Such a childish, foolish thought. As foolish as a first love…

Although everything seemed soft in this strange, muted atmosphere, in truth, you and Rowan were having a little wrestling match against each other. You wanted to bury your hands in his hair and give him some bites on his throat. Then, you wanted to yank off his pants and wrap your hands around his cock. Only, Rowan was determined to keep you under him, and to continue holding your hands in his.

You tried to slip your hands out, but Rowan merely gripped your hands harder. As he did, his lips curved into a smile. You could feel him smirking as he whispered against your lips, “Told you – you’d sneak away in a second if I wasn’t holding onto you.”

“I was only going to pull you closer,” you retorted. “I – ah!”

While you were protesting, Rowan had teasingly bit down on your lower lip.

You growled softly.

Rowan laughed lightly. Keeping his lips still softly pressed to yours, he murmured, “What a tough little growl you have. I’m surprised you haven’t scared away that Nine-Tailed Fox of yours all by yourself yet.”

As if, the Fox thought. Puny human.

Excuse you, you growled at her in your head.

Just then, Rowan grinded his hips against yours. You could feel his bulge, threatening to stretch out the front of his pants, pushing up against you, just between your legs…

Mm, the Fox hummed happily. He doesn’t hold back, does he?

“Ah…” you breathed out. “Rowan…”

“What?” he said gruffly.

How does he know? you wondered. I say his name so much when we’re together like this. How can he tell the difference when I’m just moaning his name versus when I want something from him?

Somehow, he knows what I’m asking for before I’ve even asked it.

It was that confidence in your and Rowan’s relationship that enabled you to be much more straightforward with him than you would be with anyone else. So, you confessed, “Want you,” without even trying to mask your need for him one bit.

“Beg for me,” Rowan told you.

Your soft, lovely eyes suddenly narrowed and you gave Rowan another one of your dubious looks.

“Just a little,” he hastily amended.

You sighed. “Fine. Um…” You cleared your throat, and then you said, rather neutrally, “Please.”

Rowan shrugged. “Sure, that’ll do for now.”

With that, Rowan pressed another kiss to your lips before he drew back slightly to take a look at you. Honestly, a part of Rowan wanted to make you wait, simply because you were so cute when you were like this – all warm and wanting, squirming ever so slightly under him. You didn’t seem to realize it, but in contrast to your uninterested begging, you had already locked your legs around him and were rubbing yourself back against his hips and his cock.

How does she expect me to take her pants off of her, when’s she got her legs around me? Rowan wondered briefly. But it was only a brief thought because, quite quickly, Rowan found an amendable solution. Only, to do so, he had to let go of your hands.

As he did, Rowan warned you, “You keep your hands right there.”

You didn’t listen, of course. As soon as he finished giving you such a command, you’d already happily buried your hands in his hair.

Rowan sighed, but he carried on. Reaching down, he suddenly ripped open a hole in your pants.

You gasped, and you clutched at his hair in surprise, as you felt yourself exposed, with your pants ripped neatly down the middle, revealing your panties and your bare thighs.

“Mm.” Rowan took a moment to squeeze your thigh in his hand. “All soft, little one.”

He wanted to slide down and bury his face between your legs and to give you bites all over your soft thighs, but you weren’t letting him go. Rather determinedly, you had your fingers knotted in his hair and you were kissing his face and throat all over.

Though he could easily break your grasp, Rowan was loathe to draw away from you when you were so busily kissing him. He sighed a little, though, as he remarked, “Someday, I’ll have you lie down bare for me, and I’ll bite and suck you all over. I want to cover you with my marks, and you’ll be so embarrassed that you’ll have to wear long pants and turtlenecks all year…”

Rowan paused, wondering if he was saying something that was too strange, too possessive, too much…

Instead, your eyes glimmered brightly and you returned excitedly, “Can we take turns?”

Rowan chuckled softly. “I guess so. Can’t deprive a fox girl of a chance to give some bites, can we - ? Ow!”

Rowan gasped, as you suddenly yanked his shirt up, snuggled down on the bed, and then, lifting your head up, gave his nipple a hard bite.

“Fuck!” Rowan growled. He grabbed you by your shoulders and yanked you back up. “The hell was that for?”

You cocked your head up at him. One of your little fox ears flopped sideways as you suggested, “Er - A head start?”

Rowan groaned. “I meant soft bites, you numbskull.”

“Oh.” You fell back on your elbows. You watched as Rowan’s hands traced your body, leaving trails of warmth down your sides. As you gazed at him, you mused, “Y’know, I agree with you on how long it took for us to finally admit we had feelings for each other, but I have to say - I never thought we’d get back together so quickly.”

“Me neither,” Rowan agreed. Then, in the same breath, he muttered hurriedly, “C’mon, lift your hips. I need these off of you – rip - ”

You felt your breath catch a little when your panties tugged against your hips for a moment, before they ripped off and fell apart into mere shreds.

“Oh, Rowan.”

“Sorry.”

“Can’t you treat my panties more nicely? I mean, there was nothing soft about that.”

Rowan meant to give you a look of annoyance. But then he caught a glimpse of you, lying there on the bed with your legs spread and your panties ripped open perfectly for Rowan to fuck you. Your cute little hole was already all glistening, already waiting for him.

“Mm.” Rowan reached out and rubbed his thumb over your little hole. “Seems like your pussy is begging to be treated nicely, too.”

Crossing your legs, you used your foot to gently push his hand away. “Don’t say it like that. It sounds weird.”

Rowan smirked, knowing that you only reacted that way because he was right. “I’ll take good care of you, sweetheart. Just lay back and let me fill up this needy little pussy of yours.” With that, he hastily tugged his own pants and briefs off.

You watched him, and your breath caught when you saw how strong and broad his hips and thighs were. Your pussy clenched for a moment, as you imagined the way Rowan would thrust into you.

But, keeping your legs crossed pertly so that your feet covered your ripped pants and your pussy from view, you merely commented, “Hm, I always thought you were more of a boxers type.”

“What?”

Clink. A metallic sound rang out as Rowan tossed his belt and pants carelessly to the side.

“You know. Boxers, as opposed to briefs.”

“The hell are you on about? What are you implying, you little nymph?”

You smiled. “Nothing. Just that you’re a little more uptight than I thought you were. But, well…” You shrugged to yourself as you realized, “I guess you already let me in on that secret, when you confessed that you didn’t want anyone teasing me but you.”

“That’s right,” Rowan responded. With that, he grasped your legs and firmly yanked them apart. Before you could so much as gasp, he caught your mouth in a hard, needy kiss, pushing you back down on the bed. He grabbed your wrists and pressed your hands back down on the bed. He clutched your hands tightly again, tight enough that his fingernails dug into the back of your hands.

“What did I say about keeping your hands up here?” Rowan reminded you. His voice was darker than you’d expected.

You blinked.

Rowan pushed his hips between your thighs. Then, reaching down with one hand, he rubbed the tip of his cock against your pussyhole before slowly and tantalizingly dragging the length of his cock, from the tip all the way to the base, over your clit.

You let out a heavy moan. “Rowan!”

“What?” he growled. He slowly drew back his hips, making you feel the weight of his cock sliding across your clit.

Fuck, it’s making me so wet, you thought. Such a thick, handsome cock. Mm…  

“Please,” you breathed out.

“Please what?”

“Just – p-please…”

Rowan paused, resting the tip of his cock against your ready, aching pussyhole.

“Look who’s getting better at begging,” he whispered into your ear.

You wanted to retort, but you thought he was about to push into you, so you let it go and started to let out a breath of relief- only Rowan pushed his hips forward so that his cock slid past your pussyhole and up over your clit again.

You groaned out pitifully and whispered scathingly, “You fucking tease.”

Rowan grinned. “‘S not my fault your pussy’s so wet I can’t even get my cock inside you. You’re so wet down there, baby. My cock’s already covered with your cum and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

“Well, are you ever going to?” you retorted, nearly biting your own cheek out of impatience. Your pussyhole throbbed, desperate and impatient. Your growls died down instantly, as you suddenly whimpered, in the same breath, “Rowan, c’mon, please, give it to me. I – I’m aching so bad…”

“I know,” Rowan murmured. “I can feel your pussy throbbing and I’m not even inside you yet.”

“Nngh…” You gripped his hands back tightly, too. He’s right. He’s not even inside me, and yet he’s got me panting and moaning. Rowan Scamander, what are you doing to me?

You finally bleated out feebly, “If you don’t – If you don’t make love to me right now, I’m – I’m - ”

“You’re going to what?” Rowan lifted an eyebrow at you.

“S-Slip away, just like you said,” you huffed out.

Empty threat, the Fox thought wryly.

Shut up!

Rowan’s eyes glimmered with laughter. “That Fox is telling me you’re lying.”

“You can tell?” you said, surprised.

“Yeah, I can tell.” Rowan’s voice dropped into a lazy drawl as he recounted, “All those years you spent droning on about the Nine-Tailed Fox is finally paying off. I sat there, watching you, admiring you, and all you cared about was the damned Fox. I thought I was going to die from want of attention for you. But now…” His lips curved up into a cheeky, almost arrogant smile. “… it’s all to my benefit now.”

“I wasn’t – I never thought it would – turn into t-this,” you stuttered out.

Rowan pushed against you, but again, he didn’t actually enter you.

You moaned, nearly crying from want.

Rowan whispered huskily, “All I’m saying is - I know everything about you, sweetheart.”

“I would beg to differ,” you countered. “Knowing about the – uh – the – the fox…”

Rowan chuckled when you stuttered badly over your words, but you fought through it and finished, “… isn’t the same as knowing me.”

“Fine,” Rowan conceded. “But what I do know is how badly you want to be fucked.”

At the end of his sentence, Rowan leaned down. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against yours. Then, he gritted his teeth and his abs tensed as he pushed his hips forward and – he finally pushed into you.

“Ah!” you gasped softly. Immediately, he was stretching you out so much. It’s s-so deep, and he keeps – nngh – keeps going – ah! Your pussy got tighter and tighter the deeper in Rowan went, but he kept pushing – very gently, but continuously.

“A-Ah… Ahh… Ah!” Your moan grew in intensity as his cock sank deeper and deeper inside of your wet, tight little hole.

“Sh,” Rowan whispered warmly. “You’re doing so well, letting me stretch you out like this. Fuck, it’s so warm inside you, love…”

“Ah!” you gasped, thrashing a little underneath him as he kept pushing inside of you deeper and deeper. “Rowan, it’s so tight!”

“Yes, I know it is,” Rowan agreed. “Such a tight little cunt between your legs, huh? And yet, your pussy keeps opening up for me, squeezing my cock so well…” Rowan groaned heavily. He could feel your tummy pressing up against his stomach as you gasped for breath, your hips and thighs squirming as you were overwhelmed by how deep inside of you he was going with just one slow, steady, and deep push, and how your pussy walls were spasming around his cock – clenching, squeezing, pushing. It felt heavenly to him.

“Rowan!” you cried out. Your pussy throbbed incessantly on his cock, still burrowing deeper inside of you. Your hips buckled and you fell back completely onto the bed, sinking further into the soft mattress. Meanwhile, your nails dug into the back of his hands.

Rowan let out a soft growl. “Shush,” he murmured. “I don’t care if you lose your mind over how good it feels – your tight little pussy’s going to take all of me, as many times as I want tonight.”

You whimpered.

“Does it feel good?” Rowan asked you, wanting to make sure it was still pleasurable for you and not painful.

“Yes, but it’s… Rowan, you’re so deep inside of me,” you moaned. “Am I imagining it or – or are you taking me harder than you did on the train?”

“Well,” Rowan replied patiently, “the first time we made love on the train, I was much younger - ”

“Not what I – I meant,” you huffed out.

“Oh, you meant when we were on our way here?”

You nodded.

“I didn’t go inside of you all the way, love,” Rowan reminded you. “But as for how harder I’ll take you – well, that remains to be seen. We haven’t even started tonight.”  

Your eyes widened.

“Pft.” Rowan laughed at your expression. “It can’t be that much of a shock. I haven’t even thrust once.”

You scowled a little. “I know that. I wasn’t objecting to that.”

“I know, I know,” Rowan said quickly, not wanting you to actually feel upset. “We haven’t even started and you’re already taken me in nearly all the way. I’m already pressing into your tummy, aren’t I?”

You nodded desperately.

“And your little pussy’s clenching all over my cock, right?”

You nodded again.

Rowan noticed the way your cheeks were becoming increasingly flushed as you answered in the affirmative. “You’re such a good girl,” he praised you. “Taking me so well - I’m almost all the way inside you already.”

“C-Can’t believe you’re not a-all the way inside me yet,” you whispered in a rather raspy voice. You sounded like you were barely holding on.

Rowan noticed how soft, misty tears were starting to sparkle at the corners of your eyes. He checked again, “You sure I’m not hurting you, am I, sweetheart? I can pull out now.”

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” you said honestly. “It’s just – It’s so much, Rowan - ” and then, suddenly, you broke and you started to cry - not because it hurt, but because you were so full of him and it made you feel very, very tight, as if the slightest bit of movement would set you off, and it was too much for your tight little cunt to take. He wasn’t merely inside of you; he was spreading you out to the point where you could barely comprehend how he had fit inside of you in the first place. With how thick he was, you could feel every inch of him pushing against your walls, making your thighs shiver and your head go fuzzy… and then it was deep, too, and you didn’t know what to do anymore…

“Do you want me to push in or pull out right now? It’s your call, love,” Rowan told you reassuringly.

You swallowed hard. You whispered, “In.” As you soon as you gave your command, you frantically gulped in air and made to hold your breath.

“Good girl,” Rowan whispered back. He listened to you. His shoulders and hips tensed tightly and he pushed in.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as Rowan finally pressed inside of you all the way, his balls pressed flush to your pussyhole.

Because of the way Rowan was pressed up against you – not just pressing his hips forward until his cock was completely filling you up, but also in that his stomach was pressing lightly against your tummy and his chest was against your chest – Rowan could feel how quickly your heart was thumping along. “Your heart’s racing. You okay?”

“I’m – ah - I’m fine.”

Rowan slipped his hand onto your face and for a moment, he pushed his thumb gently into your mouth. “Mm,” he breathed out. “Sweetheart, if I had known this is what you’re like when we make love, I would have kept you quite busy at school.”

You mumbled around his thumb, “But you were a prefect…”

Rowan smiled. “Those things came to me. I didn’t really care for them, you know.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” you pointed out.

Rowan’s smile deepened into a handsome smirk. “All right, insult me all you want. In the meantime…” He lifted your right leg, pushing your thigh up until you took the hint and hooked it around his waist. With his cock still buried inside of you, Rowan reached down and pushed his fingers against your clit.

When you squirmed, Rowan grinned and whispered tauntingly, “Shall we see how much your little heart can take?”

Just then, you accidentally bit down on Rowan’s fingers.

“Ow,” Rowan grimaced. Taking his fingers out of your mouth, he gave you a light, little slap on your cheek.

You blinked.

“You’ll pay for that bite,” Rowan told you.

You lifted your eyebrow at him and said staunchly, “I think I just did, Rowan.” 

“Well, fine. Next time, you can slap me and I’ll bite you,” Rowan returned.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Sure, sure... You know, you can be so petty.”

“Shut up,” Rowan murmured back, “and let me fuck you.” 

Ever demanding, Rowan chose that moment to move. He grinded his hips against you, pushing you down into the bed hard enough that your right leg immediately slipped off of his waist and your legs flopped open on either side of his hips as Rowan buried his cock in your pussy–

“Nngh!” An intense groan left your lips. You held onto Rowan so hard you feared you would break him – but of course you didn’t. In fact, it was you who was in danger of being broken, with how deep he was filling you up, pushing you open all the way to your cervix.

Rowan grabbed your chin rather roughly and kissed you hard. As he did, he murmured against your mouth, “Making such sweet sounds, my little fox, mmm… Makes me want to fucking use this pussy of yours until all you can do is whimper for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Getting fucked dumb and used like a perfect little slut…”

You swallowed hard as Rowan aggressively bit and sucked at your jaw and throat. I don’t know if he realizes it, but there’s something so intense about the way he talks when we’re together like this.

With his mouth pressed hungrily to your chest, Rowan’s light brown eyes flickered up to meet yours. Sure enough, just as it was present in his voice, there was something so intense about his gaze, despite the fact that his eyes weren’t dark in color and rather open in shape, plus there was a spray of friendly freckles over the bridge of his nose, just under his eyes…

“What?” he questioned you. “You want me to tease you again?”

“No teasing,” you told him, almost berating him in advance.

Rowan smirked and, grabbing either side of your buttoned-down shirt, he ripped your shirt open. Rowan leaned over, curving his back so that he could stay sheathed inside of you while kissing the tops of your breasts that were just visible above your bra. Reaching down, he yanked your bra down impatiently. He pressed his tongue against your nipple. When you moaned for him, he murmured, “You like it when I kiss your breasts like this? What about this?”

Rowan reached over and pinched at your other nipple meanly, making you cry out.

He grinned. As he groped both of your breasts in his hands, Rowan felt your pussy clench on his cock. He taunted you, “I touch your breasts just for a few seconds, and your pussy’s squeezing all over me already, like you’re a little slut. Tell me. Are you a slut?”

“No,” you replied – but it was quickly followed by a breathless “ah!” as Rowan pushed his hips ever so gently against you, at the same time as he caught both of your nipples in his fingers again and pinched at them.

Rowan laughed lowly at the marked contrast between your firm denial and your breathy gasp. “You can tell me if you are, baby. It’ll stay just between you and me. And I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of. I’ll touch your body so much that you’ll forget that you exist separately from me. I’ll make sure you choke on cock day and night. I’ll keep this little pussy of yours stuffed full every chance I get. I’ll bend you over whenever I want, whenever you want, and I’ll fuck you like you deserve, my good little girl, hm?”

With that, Rowan suddenly slapped at your breasts, making them bounce.

“Ah!” you gasped.

“Mm, look how pink your breasts are getting,” Rowan murmured. “Almost as pink as your pussy…”

You huffed out, “You’re – You’re -”

“I’m what?”

“You’re mean in bed. I was just teasing you before, but you really are.”

Rowan laughed softly. “I s’pse I am. Do you hate me for it?”

“Well, no...”

“Of course not. You know what I’ve noticed? Whenever I tease you like this, your pussy clenches on my cock and you get even wetter, slut.” With that, Rowan finally thrust inside of you.

“AH!” Your whole body went all tight. A second passed, and then, as if a cold wind had suddenly infiltrated your room, you abruptly trembled all over.

Rowan groaned. She’s squeezing me so much, all from that one little thrust.

Just as your body was trembling, your mind felt dizzy, too. Not just because Rowan was inside of you like this, and touching you all over as though you belonged to him, but also because of the oscillating dynamic between the two of you. It gave you whiplash – how quickly you and Rowan flipped from one dynamic to the other. One moment, you were bickering and nitpicking at each other; the next, you were shamelessly confessing how badly you wanted to fuck each other. 

And yet, it made perfect sense that the two of you fell into these different dynamics so easily. Because Rowan was both your childhood best friend and your (apparently, very adult) lover. He was also a perfect gentleman, basically a celebrity, to the outside world, and yet, when you were alone with him, you found him to be the most unexpected and intense person you had ever met. Besides that, he was your self-designated protector… and your self-proclaimed bully.

The question had to be asked – who were you when you were with him? You didn’t know, and it made you confused to try to think about it – and frankly, it became impossible to have any thoughts at all when Rowan was touching you like this.

Rowan had noticed that you had gone off into your own thoughts and he tried to wait for you, but your tight little cunt was still squeezing him so hard and his cock was throbbing painfully as he kept still for you. Finally, he broke.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, in a rather choked voice, “I have to move, all right? Else I’m gonna cum in you before I’ve – uh – given that Fox of yours anything.”

In that moment, you realized that it wasn’t just that you were overwhelmed – for all bravado, Rowan, in his own way, felt like he was losing control, too.

You lifted both of your legs and wrapped them around Rowan’s hips. “Okay,” you whispered, giving him your permission.

Rowan closed his eyes. After taking a deep breath, focusing on keeping himself together for you, he proceeded to give you slow, deep, hard-hitting thrusts.

You moaned softly, physically overwhelmed by the soft burning sensation flaring up in your tummy as he stretched you open and emotionally overwhelmed by the cloud of messy thoughts filling up your mind regarding your relationship with this handsome, charming, and somewhat dangerous young man.

A steady rhythm of thump, thump, thump sounded out as with every thrust, the headboard of the bed bounced off the wall.

You honestly loved the way that Rowan made love to you. He used your pussy so well, savoring the feeling of pushing his stiff cock into your warm, wet, throbbing little cunt. And, from Rowan’s perspective, he found that your sweet little walls got so very tight, right at the end, encouraging him to fuck you as deep as he could with every thrust, so he could hit that perfect spot inside of you.

With every thump, a concentrated, yet half-broken gasp left your lips and floated off in the air. You had your eyes closed tightly in concentration, as you were trying to be graceful in receiving Rowan’s love, trying not to fall apart too quickly.

But it was very difficult when he was hitting your deepest sweet spot so incessantly, over and over and over again. And with the length of his hard cock running up and down your warm, wet pussy walls… You bit down hard on your lower lip, and your half-broken gasps became muffled whimpers as you fought to stay grounded.

It’s a losing battle, you finally admitted to yourself, as you felt your tummy starting to tighten from Rowan’s cock thrusting into your core.

Even as your mind wandered off into that strange, hazy place of utmost pleasure and complete loss of thought, you tried to physically stay with Rowan, attempting to keep your legs around him, but the way Rowan was working himself into you – in steady, unrelenting, and deep thrusts - meant that he was pushing you down into the mattress every time he pushed his hips forward. His thighs kept hitting against yours, pushing them open little by little, until your legs finally slipped loose from around Rowan’s hips and fell open on the bed.

When your legs dropped back onto the bed, Rowan felt that your hips were no longer flush to his, and he gave an impatient growl. “Where d’you think you’re going? You bring that tight little cunt of yours back right now. I’m not even close to finished with fucking you.”

“But you’re – you’re moving too much,” you panted out. “I can’t hold onto you.”

“I’m not,” Rowan said shortly. “I’m moving so slowly for you.”

“Also, the mattress is too soft,” you pointed out. “It’s hard to hold onto you when I keep sinking into this thing.”

With an acquiescing sigh, Rowan murmured, “Fine, you brat, I’ll hold you up, then.”

You felt Rowan’s hands slip down your body. Placing his hands under your plush little ass, Rowan lifted your hips up. You felt your back and tummy curve, as he dragged you up until he could bury himself inside of you as deep as possible again.

You moaned pitifully. “Nngh, Merlin! Are you trying to break me, Rowan?”

“Only a little bit.”

Then, holding you in the perfect position to take his cock, Rowan thrust.

“Uhn!” A deep moan exploded out of you as you felt Rowan’s cock ram into your cervix.

Rowan moaned, too, and he cursed, “Fuck, that’s tight.”

He gripped your hips, hard enough to leave marks on you. You were extremely tight, so much so that he was struggling to keep it together, to not cum too fast. A deep growl ripped from Rowan’s throat. Shit, I can’t cum already. I haven’t even done anything to her yet. But I feel so - so tense – nngh! For a moment, he held you up with just one hand, and with his other hand, he lifted his hand and then brought it down to give your pussy a sharp, punishing slap!

“Ah!” you gasped loudly. “O-Ow!” 

At once, your pussy flushed pink from the slap.

“Rowan, you bully!” you huffed out accusingly. “What was that for?”

“Sorry – ah - sweetheart,” Rowan panted back at you. “Had to distract myself. Didn’t want to cum too early.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. “You were going to cum already?”

“You shush,” Rowan told you. “And don’t you worry – I’m past that point now.”

True to his word, over fifteen minutes later, Rowan was still fucking you roughly into the mattress. His chest was pressing into your soft breasts; his tight abs were pushing hard against your tummy and you could feel how hard he was working himself for you; his thick thighs were now not only pushing at your thighs, but also pinning them down; and you both were already sporting bruises on your hips as he pounded into your pussy.

And, far from showing any signs of finishing, Rowan took you more and more fervently. Since the mattress was too damn soft, he dragged you to the edge of the bed and positioned you so that your hips were on the wooden bed frame. Then pinning you down on the frame, he started to fuck you in earnest. With nowhere to go, your pussy simply had to take it, and Rowan didn’t let up one bit. As your pussy became sore and tender, you felt even more sensitive, but Rowan kept going.  As a result, while your first orgasm took a while to build up to, after the first, they just keep coming and coming.

Each time you climaxed, Rowan would let you have your moment. He loved the way your orgasm jolted down through your body: first, your mouth would fall open and you would moan tellingly, then, your breasts would start to rise and fall quickly as your breathing picked up, your tummy would tighten beautifully, your hips would start shaking, your pussy would clench and then, by the time Rowan felt your warm, sweet cum drenching his cock, your toes would be curled up tightly.

Rowan praised you heavily, telling you how good you looked, all fucked-out and cumming so much for him. He teased you, too. He would run his hand down your tummy and then push his thumb against your clit, making you cry out in a half-strangled gasp, as he whispered tauntingly, “Only sluts cum like this, I’ll have you know.”

You couldn’t find it in you to speak out your protest, but you turned your head and tried to bite at his jaw.

With a light laugh, Rowan jerked his head back before catching your mouth in a deep kiss.

You managed to choke out, in a heavily muffled voice, “T-Tease.”

In reply, Rowan bit down and pulled lightly at your lower lip, lengthening out your last moan.

“Uhh…!”

Then, with a simple, appreciative comment of, “Mm, so wet now, baby,” Rowan thrust back inside of you.

“Ah!” you gasped yet again. Feeling overly sensitive from how intensely you were being taken and how many times you’d cum in quick succession, your back arched dramatically and your hips slipped back up the bed and sank into the mattress again.

Rowan hoisted your hips and thighs back up again. “Keep your hips steady on mine,” he reminded you. “I want to feel myself fucking into your tummy every time, love. I won’t be satisfied with anything less.”

“Rowan, a-at this rate – nngh – you’re gonna cum in me,” you warned him.

Rowan’s eyes flashed. I won’t deny I’ve dreamt of cumming over and over again in her tight little cunt, not letting her clean herself up so I can admire the way her pussy and thighs look coated with my cum… but, it doesn’t look like she’s into that.

“I won’t,” he promised you sincerely. “I would never, unless you asked for it. But in the meantime…” He pushed himself back inside of you. “… A man can dream…”

You moaned, “Ah…”

Hearing your soft, pleased moan, Rowan looked down at you. He could just barely make out the outline of his cock moving inside of you, and the sight of you taking him like this, taking him so well, made his cock throb.

“Fuck,” Rowan whispered, almost to himself, “such a tight little body… Mmm… I would love to fuck a baby in you.”

“W-What?”

You hadn’t caught what Rowan had said, but it didn’t matter – he was already back to fucking your sweet little cunt, stretching you out over and over again on his thick, long cock.

It wasn’t just how deep Rowan was inside of you that drove you crazy; it was also the way he handled your body as he fucked you – the way his strong hands grasped your hips so unforgivingly, pulling you towards him to make sure your hips bounced back against his to meet his every thrust until your thighs and pussy were sore from taking him, even though he was doing all the work, and how, this entire time, Rowan was so steady, never hesitating to make use of your cunt like this, but always making sure to pleasure you and make you feel safe, and getting you to the point where you wanted to be fucked roughly by him…

Somewhere along the line, perhaps during your years apart, your childhood best friend had grown up into someone quite strong, demanding, and rough, especially when it came to being intimate. A part of you didn’t know what to do with this aspect of Rowan; but another part of you loved it, and the more you experienced it, the more you craved it. In terms of spirit and ambition, he was your match – or maybe even beyond you. You treasured that. With Rowan, finally, you didn’t have to hide your competitive side or try to always be patient – you could just be you.

A rush of adoration flooded your heart as you realized how free you felt with Rowan. You made to hug Rowan harder. Your arms slipped around his shoulders and gathered around his neck. However, you inadvertently pulled Rowan down, until he was in a perfect position for you to kiss him.

Oh… you thought, a bit dazedly, as you suddenly saw his warm, intense eyes looking straight into yours. You took in the sight of his lovely eyes. Then – you lifted your head and you kissed him.

Rowan fell on top of you in the bed. Feeling that something was different – significant, even – about this kiss, he forgot about everything except how much he wanted to be with you.

There was something about the way Rowan melted for you, just like that – though he made sure to keep himself buried deep inside of you, and you whimpered accordingly when the tip of his cock pressed hard against your cervix – that made you understand that Rowan meant it when he promised to protect you.

For your part, you fervently wished that you could protect him, too. While you weren’t entirely sure what was going on, you knew that Rowan was struggling with an inner demon, and you would give anything to help him through this.

And so, the two of you were now kissing and hugging fervently, suddenly getting all tangled up in the sheets and in each other. Instead of just outright fucking, you were busy truly touching each other and getting acquainted with the smaller, sweeter parts of each other’s bodies – Rowan kissed the crook of your neck, and you returned the favor by sucking on his stomach and hips hard enough to leave a row of love marks on his body, just above his pelvis. Then, Rowan’s hands gathered at the small of your back and he pressed you to him in a way that made you breathless in a different way. Your hands came up and rested on his arms, and you slowly became aware of the shape of the defined muscles on Rowan’s arms…  At some point, your kisses weren’t just kisses; rather, they had slowly but surely opened up into trading unspoken promises.

In this way, both of you relaxed and it became natural for the two of you to move your hips together in perfect unison - in a way that made you cry out for mercy and made Rowan groan lovingly against your lips and try to kiss you in an effort to grant you that mercy.  

However, while you and Rowan were sharing this emotional reunion and reaching a different kind of high, your body was starting to give out. Your panting was becoming raspier and you had slumped back on the mattress.

In an effort to hold you up, Rowan resumed his grasp on your hips, keeping an iron grip on you as he kept fucking your little cunt to his heart’s desire. Sharing this emotional high with Rowan had not made him gentler, only more passionate. He now used his hips much more, taking your already tight and tender little cunt as deeply as he could, thrust by thrust. Finally, your hands, which had been pressing up against Rowan’s thighs, to remind him not to thrust too hard into you, fell away in defeat as you accepted that Rowan was a passionate lover and that, in fact, it felt so good to have him take you like this. Your hands came to rest on either side of your head and that was when you finally noticed – “I – ah – I think my f-fox ears are gone, Rowan.”

“So?” Rowan asked, not pausing in the slightest.

“Huh?”

Rowan followed up, rather brusquely, “Are you telling me that you want to slip away from me now that I’ve gotten rid of your ears for you? Hm?”

‘Oh…” You blinked hazily up at him. You’d forgotten that sex wasn’t just about satiating the Fox and preserving your human form.

Rowan stared at you for a long moment – taking in the sight of your flushed, embarrassed face. Actually, Rowan had noticed your fox ears disappearing quite some time ago, during your first climax, but he had only continued to take you even more roughly after that.

Finally, you offered up weakly, “Um, no, it was just an – an interesting observation?”

She said she slept with other men, Rowan remembered. Looks like it was only ever to appease this Fox within her. But I’m different. She should know that by now.

Rowan reached down and gave you a little spank on your ass. In his mind, he berated you, How long will you doubt me for?

He started to roughly finger your little asshole, making you shiver with anticipation in his arms.

Surprised, you quickly reached up and grabbed onto his hands – well, you tried to, but he was too busy touching you, so you had to grasp onto his wrists.

“That’s right,” Rowan whispered, his voice quite husky. “You just hold onto me, little one. Just like that. Fox ears or not, every little bit of you is mine right now.”

“Wait, did you – did you touch me like that just so I’d reach for you?” you asked indignantly.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed. “Merlin. You really don’t trust me, do you? You think I’d fuck you here - ” he pressed his finger gently against your asshole – “without your permission? What kind of a sick bastard would do that?”

“Oh.”

“That being said, I think I’m going to have to take you even harder, to get it through to your slow little brain that I don’t intend on ever letting you go again,” Rowan told you, and you could tell he was dead serious. Rowan muttered, then, under his breath, “I’ve had enough of this damn mattress. You keep sinking down into it, and it’s annoying me. I want to fuck your pussy harder, love. I know you can take me deeper.”

It’s impossible to keep up with him, you thought. And you had barely thought that, when Rowan abruptly picked you up and carried you over to the bathroom, where he plunked you down on the marble counter.

“What -? Ah, it’s cold!” you complained.

“It’ll be worth it,” he promised you. “And it won’t be so cold in just a second.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” As he spoke, Rowan guided your feet so that they were resting up on the edge of the counter, on either side of you – essentially, so that your thighs wouldn’t get in the way of his fucking your little pussy.

Snaking his arms around your waist, he dragged you quite close to the edge of the counter.

“Finally,” Rowan murmured, as he positioned himself in front of you. Now, he was finally able to push up inside of you as he liked.

“O-Oh my G-God,” you stuttered out at once. Your chest immediately rose as you struggled to breathe. Fuck, can I really take him all the way? I feel like – like he’s going to split me open. I can’t – nngh – I can’t even think straight when he’s inside me like this – ah! Uhnn… He just moved a little and – and – oh, God!

Rowan moved much more purposefully now. He was taking you without restraint, using every bit of his cut abs and strong thighs to fuck your tight cunt open at a much faster pace and with much harder thrusts than before.

F-fuck – I don’t think I can - ah…! you cried out in your mind. Ah! Ah, ah, ah!

Everything floated away – there was only Rowan, and, tied to him, that tight, almost unbearable sensation of burning pleasure flaring up between your legs – growing, growing, growing until it spread all over your body. Rowan had kept his promise – you weren’t cold anymore.

Besides, there were too many new sensations. Your chest felt constricted even though you weren’t being choked, your abs were burning even though you were just sitting up, your pussy was so tight and hot even though you’d cummed enough times to make you much more wet than usual… And you were exhausted. You could never have imagined that simply taking a man would push you to your limits like this.

Rowan, seeing you start to get tired, decided to tease you a little to perk you back up. “God, you’re so wet,” he told you. And it was true - the wet, smacking sounds sounding out from your pussy as his cock slammed into you repeatedly was quite loud and quite lewd.

Rowan reached down with one hand and played with your clit, meaning that as he spoke to you like this, his fingers were slipping in and out of your wet, pink folds, making it impossible for you to deny his next words: “Don’t you feel ashamed of yourself, dripping all over me, hm? And you just accepted the way I propped you up on here, with your thighs wide open, putting your dripping little cunt on display like this, just so I can fuck it good and hard again… You aren’t even a little ashamed of what a slut you are?” Rowan had to pause, to draw breath himself, and he moaned lowly “Uhn…” because he was getting close, too. Feeling how wet you were on his fingers while burying his cock inside of your warm, tight cunt would honestly be enough for any man to break, Rowan thought, and god damn it, he was a man like any other man.

You chose that moment to glare at him. “Shut up, y-you made me like this.”

Rowan reached up and grabbed your chin. There was no mercy in his voice as he replied, “Yes, I did. And don’t you ever forget that.”

Knowing that he was close to finishing, Rowan slipped his arms under yours and then put both his hands down on the counter behind you, giving him a steady position that caged you in his arms. Leaning forward, Rowan thrust his hips forward, ensuring that the tip of his cock crashed into your sweet, tight core.

A soundless gasp left you – you fell back – Rowan quickly caught the back of your head before your head hit the mirror behind you. He kept fucking you, however, pistoning his hips back and forth, and slowly, his hand slipped from the back of your head to the front of your neck, until he was holding you up by your neck. You were glad you weren’t facing the mirror. You couldn’t imagine what you looked like in this position, with your legs still propped up on the edge of the counter, pussy plainly laid out for Rowan to fuck you as hard as you could take it, your soft breasts bouncing in time to Rowan’s thrusting into you, your back slumped towards the cold counter, and being held up in mid-air only because Rowan’s hand somehow slotted perfectly in-between your chin and the base of your neck…

“Ro – wan,” you choked out. “U-Uhhh…!”

“Sh,” he hissed back. “I’m fucking close.”

Rowan shut his eyes. Squeezing your neck in his hand, he chased his pleasure through you, pounding into your desperate, weeping little cunt for all he was worth.

A series of strangled, desperate cries left you – your hands flew up and pressed against Rowan’s stomach, but he didn’t even seem to notice – your hands then fell down onto your tummy as the tension inside of you became so heightened that you felt you were going to snap and break - but then, as the merciless pounding kept going, your hands slipped off of your tummy – one of them somehow hit the nearby faucet - you could hear running water – but all you could feel was the growing tightness and warmth in your pussy, deep in your pussy, making you ache, making you crave release more than ever before – and that strong hold on your neck reminded you that it was Rowan doing this to you, driving you to such a desperate point, using you so roughly and yet teaching you to love it because you did – it just felt so fucking good and so freeing - !

“Hah… Ah… Ah!” Your moans were becoming breathier and higher pitched with every passing second.

“Nngh, fuck!” Rowan spat out. “I’m gonna -!” He suddenly cut off and pulled out of you. It was just in time. Thick, hot, white ropes of cum spurted out from his cock and coated your tummy.

At the same time, your mouth fell open and you watched in shock as you squirted all over the counter.

!!! Your head was still ringing dizzily, but the sense of relief of having cum so hard was flooding your body right now, and all you could feel was an intense, perfect satisfaction. My God, so sex can be like this…

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for you, when Rowan saw your mouth drop open like that, his mind immediately realized that he was wasting an opportunity with you.

“On your knees!” Rowan barked out harshly. “Now!” He grabbed you and yanked you off the counter and immediately pushed you down onto your knees.

You blinked in surprise as you suddenly found yourself grabbing blindly onto his thighs for support and then, you gasped when his warm, thick cum hit your face. You shut your eyes as Rowan, who had reached down and pumped his cock in his fist as he finished cumming, came heavily all over your face. It was an impressive amount of cum that spattered your face, given how much he’d already cum all over your tummy.

Rowan, breathing heavily, managed to murmur, “Shame you l-lost your fox ears. I think I would’ve – hah…. Rather liked seeing my – my cum on those cute little things…”

You blindly groped around for a towel.

Rowan couldn’t help but smile a little when he saw you like that.

“Here, I’ve got you.” Rowan lifted you easily and set you on your feet. He grabbed a towel and wiped your face for you. “I didn’t hurt you anywhere, did I? Your knees or anything?”

You cracked open one eye and glared at him. “Just my pride, Rowan Jacob Scamander.”

Rowan laughed, both at your wit and because he was relieved. I have to remember to hold back with her, he told himself sternly. My possessiveness over her doesn’t give me the right to do anything to her.

Rowan hesitated, chewing on his lower lip, before deciding to say, “Hey, you know it’s all talk, don’t you? Everything I say… It’s just teasing. I don’t want you to be alarmed.”

You had been cleaning yourself up, but when you heard Rowan say that, you stopped. The towel dropped from your hands, even though Rowan’s cum was still dripping down your stomach and thighs. You stepped closer to Rowan and you gave him a hard stare, as though you meant to examine his very soul.

Rowan found himself swallowing hard. But he remained still and he refused to look away from your penetrating gaze.

Finally, you said, in a knowing voice, “It’s not just talk. It’s not just teasing. You know that. And I know that. So, don’t pretend otherwise. Especially not to me. But…” You reached up and put your hand on his cheek. Your thumb smoothed over his boyish freckles. “That’s all right, Rowan. I trust you. Besides, it makes sense to me. We’re making up for so many years of wanting each other… Why wouldn’t you get a little possessive? We all want our past back.”

Rowan stared at you, stunned.

“But just know,” you continued, and now, a sharp edge entered your voice, “that I’ve changed since then and there are parts of me that you can never claim.”

You gazed at Rowan with sharp eyes for a beat longer. Then, you leaned forward and kissed Rowan on the cheek before walking away.

Rowan watched you go, mesmerized by the way you’d handled that – the way you’d handled him, and by how stunning you looked walking away from him like that, with your strong, yet soft thighs still glistening with his cum and your ass bearing his handprints…

Fuck, Rowan thought blearily. I got too cocky. I forgot – it was her who used to run circles around me, wasn’t it?

Damn, he cursed in his head. But he couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his lips as he bent down to pick up the towel you’d left behind.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Remus Lupin stared forlornly out of the rain-streaked window. His parents owned a little cottage on the moors, where they often vacationed during the summer. They were unaware that their son lived here during the colder months, only to quietly slip away when summer arrived.

The clock struck, indicating that it was four in the morning. Remus sighed.  He wished he could go to sleep, but his mind refused to let him rest. He was depressed because he had had to resign from his post at Hogwarts. He was heartbroken over the fact that Harry looked exactly like James’, only with Lily’s eyes, but Harry himself could never fully realize how much he took after his parents. He was somber because you had left Hogwarts and left him without so much as a goodbye, and apparently, Rowan Scamander had taken up his place besides you once more. He was worried to death about Sirius and whether he had been caught after his escape from Hogwarts…

Scritch, scritch, scritch!

Remus started. What was that? I swear it came from the back door.

Scritch, scritch, scritch!

Remus hurried towards the back of the cottage. Holding his wand behind his back, he called out nervously, “Who’s - Who’s there?”

“Arf! Arf, arf!”

Remus grasped the handle of the back door and yanked it open.

A huge, black dog leapt in, almost barreling into Remus.

“Padfoot!”

The dog bounded into the corner of the room where he transformed – into Sirius.

“Moons, good to see you. Listen, I’m all for having a proper reunion, but I have to warn you, there’s a hippogriff outside.”

Remus’ eyes bulged. “Right now? But this is a Muggle neighborhood!”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Remus dashed outside. Sure enough, there was Buckbeak, neighing unhappily in the rainstorm.

Heart pounding in his chest, Remus hurriedly performed the ‘greeting’ ritual of bowing before Buckbeak. As soon as Buckbeak showed signs of bowing back, Remus dashed forward and not-so-gently pushed Buckbeak forward.

Buckbeak did not quite fit into the doorway, and he lost a lot of feathers squeezing through. By the time he’d made it into Remus’ living room, he was not happy.

Remus closed the door and locked it. Then, he turned around, intending to have a word with Sirius when -

“Watch it!” Sirius yelled.

Remus let out a shout and tripped backwards as Buckbeak lunged for him.

Sirius jumped forward and grabbed Buckbeak. “He only did it to keep you safe! Sorry, Beaky! But it had to be done.”

Buckbeak glared at Sirius and snorted angrily at Remus, but he backed off and made to sit atop the sofa, immediately crunching it into a flat shape as he tried to sit on it.

Remus, soaked through with rain and heart going a hundred miles per hour, said faintly, “Merlin, Sirius. Some warning might have been nice.”

Sirius flashed a grin. “A warning? And since when did a Marauder ever give a warning?” He strode over to Remus and clapped Remus’ shoulder hard enough to make Remus’ knees buckle. “You’ve gotten rusty, Moons. But not to worry, I’m here to remind you of our old ways. ‘I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.’ You remember that one, don’t you? You came up with it.”

Remus stared at Sirius for a minute before he croaked out, in complete honesty, “It was only a saying… until you came along.”  

Sirius beamed, taking it as a compliment. Remus crumped against the wall in silent defeat, realizing that even twelve years in Azkaban had failed to take away his best friend’s brash and self-congratulatory nature.

Tagged Users: @areomalfoy @saltstacks

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #rowan scamander #rowan scamander x reader #rowan scamander smut #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #foxtail and wolfsbane

[lgcdanbi]

solo : #lgcuniversity, class (03) performing arts

word count : 654

she has no idea what the fuck she’s doing right now. just last week, she was searching up ‘jobs that will hire you with only a high school degrees’, and now, she’s on the train to the city of seoul itself - for an audition. at an entertainment company of all places, too.

she can’t sit still - her hands stay fidgeting, and her ankles find themselves crossing and un-crossing every five minutes. the passing sights on the journey from countryside to capital are less calming, and more concerning than anything. she just can’t believe what she’s doing right now; mom would have an absolute field day if she was still alive around to hear about this.

(god, she wishes mom was still here. maybe all of this wouldn’t feel as scary if she was. maybe, danbi wouldn’t be as guilty as she much as she is right now. someone would have been waiting for her, packing her lunch and wishing her good luck when she walked out the door this morning; she could’ve left feeling confident, not so goddamn remorseful.)

three hours, turns to two hours, turns to one, and by the time they arrive at the station, danbi’s done nothing but bitten her fingernails down to mere nubs and probably broken the world record for ‘longest hold breath’.

from there, it’s a blur. she can’t exactly remember the walk from the train to the company; any other day, she’d stop and stare and speculate on when was the last time she was in seoul, but today, she was rather static. 

her mind was both a blank and riddled with worries - she barely recalls signing in, getting a name tag, and finding her spot in line when it seems like she’s finally come to. like, this is really happening right now, isn’t it?

she’s back to fretting now. her fingers have swiftly acquainted themselves with the ends of her hair - while danbi’s internally cursing herself for running out of fingernails to chew on. the sounds of names being called and the shuffle of feet into what she presumes is the main audition room, only leave her more on edge than not - so much so that she’s barely paying attention to the girl speaking beside her.

“—hey! are you even listening to me?”

cue danbi’s head finally perking up and focusing on the source of the sound - a younger girl with cute bangs and fierce eyes. she’s never met this girl before in her life, and yet, danbi still nods.

in response, the girl groans and rolls her eyes. “i said~ that you’re really pretty - and you better have been listening then ‘cause i’m not going to compliment you for a third time. not when we’re competition, you know?”

again, danbi nods, but before she can make an audible reply, there’s a creak from the door opening, with that same woman with a clipboard standing in the doorway. next up are candidates #312 throught #317!

“that’s us,” the girl exclaims whilst hastily standing up from her seat. danbi’s slow in following; something’s distracting her. “good luck in there, and maybe we’ll see each other on the other side.”

not a moment is spared as their audition group rushes inside, with danbi unconsciously trailing behind at the back of the group - something’s bothering her, what did that girl say again? 

“candidate #312, please state your name for the camera and briefly explain what you’ll be doing for your audition today before beginning.”

that she’s pretty? 

“... candidate #312?”

and she meant is a genuine compliment?

“miss, err, geum danbi-ssi? can you hear us?”

...

when was the last time she was ever complimented?

“geum danbi-ssi, this is your last chance—”

fuck.

“my apologies,” danbi says as she scurries to the center of the room. 

“my name is geum danbi. i’m nineteen years old, and i currently live in daejeon.”

#lgc:lgcuniversity #SOLO (TAG) #writing abt young danbi makes me emotional :')

[firefallvaruna]

FFXV Fic: The Winding Road

So this is the road trip fic I've been toying with. It's kind of a self-gratifying thing, but I've gotten into some really fun road trip shenanigans with my found family over the years. I decided to paint a few of them onto the Older!Chocobros and Lunafreya.

NGL, the holidays are poor mental health months for me and this year my found family is out of the country on long-awaited vacations. (First time since the Covid Nation Attacked)

Majorly afraid this is boring, but it's fun for me to roll around in fun memories.

Excerpt:

“I also can’t help but feel,” she stumbled over how she wanted to word the next concern. They’d promised each other honesty. No more trying to hide suffering or pain to spare the other. She wanted to marry this man. Desperately. She awkwardly offered, “The focus on the wedding is misplaced?” Noctis had the infuriating audacity to chuckle faintly, but what he said next gave her pause, “Specs and I had that conversation. He suggested it’s an escape to fantasy and gives people hope.” She supposed she knew that subconsciously, but it felt somewhat like a revelation all the same. It didn’t help her feelings of entrapment, however, “But what about us?” “We try my idea for the dessert table?” Noctis then playfully blew a wet raspberry on her neck, making her involuntarily yelp and giggle like a young girl. He’d been feeding off Ignis’s sense of humor lately, so she knew he’d find a bad pun for anything she said to that statement. She refused to take the bait. “Incorrigible! That’s what you are!” “Well, you’ll have to corrige me. Wait, is that a word?” A rare laugh as she pressed a palm to her face, followed by a nearly purred, “Or maybe that’s encourage ?” She rolled her eyes, despite being inwardly amused. Someone had to play the foil when the bad jokes and puns began.

The Dawn: The Winding Road

Chapter 1: Fishbowl Living

Noctis Lucis Caelum — King of Lucis, periodic adventurer, occasional hunter, and groom-to-be — dropped onto his couch with a grateful sigh. 

He was done for the day. As in, well done. Stick a fork in him. But at least the couch he was trying to become one with belonged to him and Luna, located in their apartment in a building they owned. It was a good feeling on a regular day, and it was doubly so on a busy day like today. He still had reports to go through and a few papers to sign before he could call himself genuinely done for the day, but all that work could be completed from his couch.

With a heavy sigh, he concluded Thursdays shouldn’t be allowed to be this obscenely busy.

Though, frankly, he had barely been released from the hospital before the demands of the crown had come knocking. The guys were absorbing and deflecting as much as they could, but what they couldn’t was still overwhelming. His mornings seemed to start earlier each day.

Lunafreya needed to meet Iris every morning for their training sessions. He wasn’t fully recovered and able to walk on his own when Gladio decided he couldn’t cover two active monarchs. (At least not with his sanity intact.) So he broke with Amicitia tradition and named Iris the first female Shield in recorded history. The Queen and Queen’s Shield needed time to get to know each other and learn how to work together.

After seeing her off, Noctis dove into a virtual meeting with Prompto and the team of experts he’d hired to survey the crater formerly known as The Crown City of Insomnia.

The news, predictably, wasn’t great. It was going to take decades to clean up and rebuild. Prompto’s photographs left nothing to the imagination: Insomnia had all but been wiped off the map. The crater was just the city’s cadaver and the Citadel ruins was its grave marker.

To begin, there was just one bridge in and out of Insomnia, and it badly needed repairs. Considering the city’s former function, having few gates to protect made perfect sense from a strategic standpoint. However, it was an absolute logistical nightmare. It made the already remote corner of the continent even more. The long-destroyed Keycatrich Bridge and Boral Bay Bridge would need to be rebuilt, followed by the seaports.

Then, before even the work of clearing the debris could begin, Crestholm Channels would need to be repaired or rebuilt. Much of Insomnia was technically at or slightly below sea level. Rain threatened to drown the Crown City every spring and fall, and Crestholm was built to control that flooding. However, it had taken heavy damage from Teraflare. And, due to damaged structural and mechanical systems, there was a not-so-remote chance that a good storm might cause a sewage overflow right into the channels and reservoirs that served not only the Crown City but much of Leide too.

Which led straight into his next meeting: Making Lestallum the new, official capital of Lucis.

It made far more sense, especially since Insomnia’s original purpose no longer existed. Lestallum was centrally located on the continent, more or less equal distance from the rest of the Lucian outlands. The walled industrial city had grown larger and denser with each year of darkness, encircling almost the entire meteor crater. Now that the Long Night was finally over, there was no shortage of interest in the former Aracheole Stronghold area.

As for the power plant itself, Teraflare seemed to have done something good. Initially, the Meteor of the Six and its many shards had been the source of Lestallum’s power. Now, it seemed a geothermal “hot spot” had formed deep under Lestallum’s water-filled crater. With a permanent, renewable solution at hand, the power plant could be gradually converted to an actual geothermal power plant well before it ran out of meteor shards.

Everything considered Lestallum had everything necessary to function as the new capital.

From there, Noctis posited that each province would require its own regional government plus representatives for his new council.

He knew it would be controversial and expected it to be a bit polarizing. He may have been profoundly immature back then, but he distinctly remembered how adverse to change and mired in tradition people had been during his father’s reign. He mentally prepared and told himself repeatedly that any adverse reaction would be strictly knee-jerk. They couldn’t wait decades for Insomnia to be rebuilt. He rehearsed statements such as, “You wouldn’t drive a car exclusively looking in your rearview mirror!”

To his shock and amazement, the opposite occurred. His proposal had not only been well-received but was proving to be popular. He had been ready to desperately expound, not at all believing what he was seeing, but Ignis’s hand on his arm had stayed his tongue.

While it was a pleasant surprise, it hadn’t been the outcome he’d expected. He was left feeling agitated and uneasy from the pent-up stress. He felt distinctly out of touch. Ten years in the Crystal and he didn’t know his own kingdom anymore. He felt like he was waiting for the next shoe to fall, but, that particular “shoe” didn’t exist to fall. He’d desperately needed the next few hours of therapy and training with Gladio to blow off that nervous energy.

Then in the early afternoon, he ducked out of another meeting regarding material shortages in Tenebrae early to pick up Prompto’s daughter, Calanthe, from school. Now “Uncle Noct” and “Aunt Luna” were on-duty until Prompto got home. Which added “child care” to today’s long adventure.

Calanthe was a good kid, but even good kids could be a handful sometimes. She was the definition of ‘rambunctious.’ She had a scream that Noct swore could melt solid steel. At times willful and frustratingly insistent on her independence; at others, she was clingy and needy. Situational incompetence and overblown emotional outbursts were typical. She often acted younger than her age – apparently, all symptoms of trauma and stress.

Which was something Noctis understood all too well.

The girl had been born shortly after he entered into Reflection and had grown up in a world without sunlight. A place of high walls and confined spaces. At the tender age of eight, she was kidnapped with her family, orphaned, and soon after, infections claimed her arms from the elbows down. Immediately upon her recovery, she’d begun preparations for an eventual set of Magitek prostheses.

Then she’d lived in protective custody as a ward of the Kingsglaive, and her world contracted even further to the strict confines of a safe house. It was no way for a child to live, but not knowing if she was still in danger, there was little choice.

Fast on the heels of her adoption, the completed Magitek prostheses were fitted and activated. The prostheses were designed to be unobtrusive, mimicking the size and shape of her natural arms as much as possible, and lovingly painted to blend in with her skin, complete with freckles. And then, she had to begin physiotherapy all over again as she learned how to function with her new, artificial arms. He had no doubt she dealt with pain and discomfort; he recognized the signs.

It was little wonder why she was often so bratty. That would have been a lot for even an adult to go through. Though even if he could relate, it was, frankly, exhausting.

He had her settled to work on her homework on the coffee table beside him while he went over the reports Ignis had dropped off for review. While he had always appreciated what Ignis did for him, having to do the same for Prompto’s daughter, even for a day, gave him a new perspective. It was hard keeping her focused and on-task.

Noctis’s phone buzzed and pinged with the incoming text message tone; from the kitchen, Luna’s did the same. He only spared the screen a glance. It was from Cor, using Kingsglaive security euphemisms.

All he could do was inwardly groan. Probably another paparazzi was finding out his security detail still meant business, even if security outwardly seemed lax. He only received the alerts if they felt he needed to be made aware.

For a saving grace, he had decided during his recovery that they needed a place of their own. He frankly had missed his old apartment and the freedom and privacy it offered.

The first hitch in his plans was that there were some serious security considerations regarding where the King and Queen of Lucis could live. His initial choices had been vetoed on those grounds alone. The second was that Lestallum was old. Not as old as some of the towns and cities across Eos, but nothing aside from the power plant had been built with any degree of security in mind. Most of the industrial city had been built hurriedly to accommodate the various population booms over the years, often without much regard for planning.

The solution came when word reached him that the leaders of the Accordo Protectorate were returning to Altissia. During the Long Night, Accordo had acquired several buildings in Lestallum as temporary government seats and housing. One of those was a small, four-story apartment building with a security checkpoint on the ground floor. Rumor was they planned to sell it.

Deciding luck favored the bold, he had approached First Secretary Claustra during one of their meetings. They eventually agreed that Lucis would pledge their full support towards the rebuilding of Altissia, and Accordo would likewise assist Lucis, including the new royal residence. (Of course, she made an obvious point to remind him they were still hosting his wedding. There was an unspoken implication he probably owed her for that too.) 

To keep his advisors and Cor happy, he hired a former Royal Guardsman and semi-retired Kingsglaive, Vesper Decimus, to be his building’s security. Even in his sixties, Ves was a force to be reckoned with. To further sweeten the deal, Noctis offered the veteran a free apartment. All Ves needed to do was walk downstairs, and he was at work.

So Noct and Luna had their own place, and it was secure enough to keep everyone happy. It also allowed Noctis to get Prompto and Calanthe out of that crappy studio apartment and into something much nicer.

Ves responded that he was “looking for work.” Another euphemism. The phrase actually meant, “searching for additional threats.” If Ves was responding, that meant it happened downstairs. Whether he wanted to or not, he needed to find out what was up.

He realized Calanthe was looking up at him, her eyebrows raised.

Noct looked into those earnest violet eyes and smiled. She was a clone just like Prompto, though she only possessed roughly sixty percent of his DNA. Those genes were dominant, however, and the resemblance was always a bit uncanny for him. Her facial shape and eyes were subtly different, but the expression was straight out of his memories when Prompto was her age.

“Do me a big favor?” He whispered conspiratorially. “Can you check on your Aunt for me while I make a call?”

— — — ⌖ — — —

Lunafreya had had a long and emotional day. 

She was feeling drained, but every time she slowed down too much, her emotions got the better of her. So she was distracting herself in the kitchen, cleaning and taking inventory of their pantry. Despite her fatigue, the act of cleaning was surprisingly soothing. If not for Noctis and Calanthe needing to focus and concentrate, she probably would have spiraled out into the other rooms.

It still seemed a bit surreal to need to manage her own living space. The luxurious lifestyle of her gilded cage was a thing of the past. Their apartment was modest, but kempt. They had no servants, cleaning staff, or even a personal chef. Ignis came over frequently enough their kitchen bore his distinct organizational style and they kept accessible cooking tools for his use, but his presence wasn’t constant.

For the freedom and the way the space didn’t feel like a prison, she was willing to accept the changes.

If there was anything she truly yearned for, it was the days she could find ingredients to make her favorite tarts easily. But even for a King and Queen, food was still rationed, and fresh fruit in the amounts necessary for the tarts was prohibitively expensive. If nothing else, she craved something sweet, and they didn’t even have chocolate.

Her day had started early, as it always did now. First was training with Iris, recently appointed as her Shield. Immediately after training, she and Iris walked Calanthe to school. After a brief pause to shower and dress, they were onward to a whirlwind of meetings regarding the wedding and specifically for the bride. Much of it had been planned ahead of time, but so many things had changed in the intervening decade to complicate the logistics.

For example, the dress patterns and notes had been located, but then there were the specific fabrics, notions, and embellishments that would need to be sourced. Then there were the undergarments to ensure it all laid correctly and her shoes. And then extensive fittings at each step because no matter what, her body was different than it was ten years prior.

Calanthe stepped into the kitchen, her snack plate and empty glass in hand. She started to put them in the sink. “Dishwasher, if you would, please,” Lunafreya mildly directed.

In the grand scheme of things and compared to everything she had been through, she realized all these things were only a minor inconvenience, but at that moment, it felt monumental. 

She could fight daemons and mutated beasts, but she couldn’t fight a planet that had been brought to the brink of death. She couldn’t give everyone enough to eat with a speech. Couldn’t perform a ritual to restore people’s homes. The many new diseases brought on by ten years of darkness combined with dense living conditions couldn’t be cleansed with magic of the Oracle. 

And she was fretting over a wedding.

Through abruptly hot, damp eyes, she idly wondered how Ravus would have solved these issues. Had the Empire not torn her family apart, how would he have dealt with all this? What would her mother have done?

“Aunt Luna?” Calanthe asked, the child’s voice catching in her throat. “Are you okay?”

Lunafreya wasn’t expecting her heart to leap like it did at being addressed as “Aunt.” Calanthe wasn’t even reliably calling Prompto “dad” yet, although she was slipping more often. He still partially held the role of a “grown-up friend” who was “kind of like a dad.”

Prosthetic arms, advanced civilian models similar to the military issue arm Ravus had come to wear after his attempt to command the Ring of the Lucii, wrapped around her. It was still a bit like watching an old stop-motion animation, the motions still slightly uncanny and mechanical. Her brain was still unused to the interface between her real nerves and the artificial ones in her prosthetics. 

Had Ravus experienced this when he started wearing his arm? He hadn’t really spoken of his injury in the time he was secretly aiding her. His arm had been burnt to ash, surely he must have experienced some of these side effects and would have known how to cope.

She gratefully returned the embrace, holding her tightly. She stroked the girl’s hair and absently tucked an errant lock that had escaped the braids she had made that morning back into place.

Calanthe released her and asked once more, “Are you okay?”

Luna wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to force her voice to behave, “I’m fine. I had a long day. It’s quite all right to cry during times of stress, I assure —“

“Uncle Noct!” The blonde girl bayed in a voice like nails down a chalkboard, “Aunt Luna is crying!”

“Oh, Callie,” Luna murmured under her breath before she could stop herself, caught at an odd intersection of amusement and exasperation.

Noctis, of course, immediately got to his feet and crossed the living room. “Keep me posted,” he said into the phone and hung up without waiting. His priorities shifted as though with the flip of a switch.

“Luna’s crying,” Calanthe repeated unnecessarily when he drew close, though thankfully at a much lower volume.

“Thanks, I’ll take it from here,” Noctis replied with an easy smile and a hand on the child’s upper back. “Why don’t you take a break from homework? Play a game for a bit?”

Prompto’s daughter obeyed, leaving them alone in the kitchen. (Though Luna didn’t miss the lingering look back at her.) 

She heaved a sigh as his arms encircled her from behind, his lips pressing softly into the nape of her neck just the way she liked.

“What’s wrong? Thinking about Ravus again?” His breath caressed her ear, warm and sweet in his sincerity.

“If only it were just the memories of my family haunting me,” Luna sighed again, closing her eyes and leaning against him. “But yes, and my mother too,” and then she hesitated. Worried her lips, unsure of how to express how trapped she felt. 

She was the Oracle, Princess of Tenebrae, and soon-to-be the Queen of Lucis. She answered to no one. Her voice was powerful, and if it wasn’t powerful enough, Noctis was quick to elevate her. Her agency was armor-clad. She had resources few others possessed.

However with the wedding date less than a year away, the world had rediscovered its appetite for royal gossip.

As royalty, they were no strangers to media attention. There had always been a fascination bordering on obsession with their lives. What they wore, who they had been seen with, dating, sex, politics — it had always been on the menu. Even Lunafreya, despite living in what was essentially an opulent prison, had not been spared. Though that had been heavily focused on her duties as the beloved Oracle.

However, even after an apocalypse, the Lucian media was relentless and often took it to the extreme. An extreme she was struggling with.

Theirs was a very physical relationship and not just from a sexual perspective. Trauma had a tendency to linger. Ten years of deprivation of all stimuli save magic had left its mark on Noctis. Thus, they both found themselves needing physical contact and reassurance to stave off bouts of intense anxiety. Luckily, they had each other, and Noctis’s “brothers” all understood they were still recovering. But it was yet another item for gossip: They can’t keep their hands off each other!

Even their recent trip to a toy store to buy a present for Calanthe’s upcoming tenth birthday had been covered exhaustively. The speculation of why the Royal Couple were seen at a toy store had run rampant. Could it mean an heir before the wedding?

A catchy, upbeat song began to play from the living room punctuated by cheery sound effects. Dissonant to the turmoil she was feeling.

“I feel trapped,” she finally admitted in scarcely a whisper, the words brittle and wavering. “Like we’re specimens on display.”

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed, swaying slightly with her still held in his arms. “Same here. Can’t decide if we’re living in a fishbowl or petri dish.”

Lunafreya nodded her agreement. 

“I also can’t help but feel,” she stumbled over how she wanted to word the next concern. They’d promised each other honesty. No more trying to hide suffering or pain to spare the other. She wanted to marry this man. Desperately. She awkwardly offered, “The focus on the wedding is misplaced?”

Noctis had the infuriating audacity to chuckle faintly, but what he said next gave her pause, “Specs and I had that conversation. He suggested it’s an escape to fantasy and gives people hope.”

She supposed she knew that subconsciously, but it felt somewhat like a revelation all the same. It didn’t help her feelings of entrapment, however, “But what about us?”

“We try my idea for the dessert table?” Noctis then playfully blew a wet raspberry on her neck, making her involuntarily yelp and giggle like a young girl.

He’d been feeding off Ignis’s sense of humor lately, so she knew he’d find a bad pun for anything she said to that statement. She refused to take the bait. “Incorrigible! That’s what you are!”

“Well, you’ll have to corrige me. Wait, is that a word?” A rare laugh as she pressed a palm to her face, followed by a nearly purred, “Or maybe that’s encourage?”

She rolled her eyes, despite being inwardly amused. Someone had to play the foil when the bad jokes and puns began.

Acting on an impulse, Luna lifted her smartphone once more and brought up the weather app. She could feel her fiancé lean further into her to gaze over her shoulder.

Typical autumn rain and thunderstorms were on the way for Lestallum for the weekend. Full days of rain in Lestallum meant sustained high humidity. But Leide was going to have absolutely gorgeous weather for the next few days. No humidity. No overwhelming heat and blazing sunlight that would make her skin feel like it was actively cooking.

Noctis would be happy being a hermit for the weekend. Lunafreya, however, felt as though the walls were closing in.

The idea they should leave for a few days and take a break in Leide was intoxicating. Get away from the “fishbowl,” as Noctis had put it. Shake off the paparazzi, gossip, and their constant royal escorts. Just the two of them, alone, in the tranquil desert and prairies. 

Those weeks she’d spent traveling alone across the Lucian continent to forge the Covenants had been the freest she’d felt in twelve years. Oh, how she had loved those limitless blue skies.

“We should try to get away. Just us.” The suggestion tumbled over her lips like an avalanche, “Go on holiday like a normal couple.”

“Ignis will kill us, and Gladio will help hide our bodies,” Noct muttered into her hair.

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv fanfic #ff15 fanfiction #lunoct #noctis x luna #lunafreya nox fleuret #noctis lucis caelum #cross posted on ao3 #ao3 fanfic

[pinkchaosstories]

Blood and Thorns - Chapter Eight (Part 2)

Chapter 8 (Part Two): Dances and Burglaries (Read Chapter 1 (part one) here) - (See here for a complete list of chapters)

   It was a strange thing for Razi to be put on the overnight shift, but a nice change of pace. The late-night kitchen space made prepping the next morning’s bread a wonderfully peaceful experience. She even snagged some one-on-one with Frigga once or twice when the woman had a rough time sleeping, and Razi began to bring her a night-time tea before bed. Their afternoon walks had become less frequent these days, so the nighttime tea made up for some of the missed strolls.   But something still nagged at the back of her mind; when Sapphire had summoned her, the lady was more curt than usual. She was never chipper, but Razi sensed a particular vibe that made her skin goose bump. She couldn’t think of any reason other than her relationship with Frigga that would cause such a terse manner, but how would the old woman have found out? Aside of their walks, there wasn’t much to see, and very few people had even hinted at knowing what was going on. Gertrude wasn’t likely to blab, and Razi didn’t think Doris would gossip to Lady Sapphire unless she was sure of the rumour’s truth. But it was possible the gossips on staff were making assumptions, and Razi’s love of pretty girls wasn’t exactly a secret amongst personnel, so…one plus one equals two, right? But it was mostly just rumours, and it seemed unlikely Lady Sapphire would change Razi’s schedule out of pettiness; wasn’t her style.

  A week after Razi was called into her boss’s office was a perfectly normal day, unremarkable in every way. Frigga and Razi went out on their walk, Sapphire was dealing with some coven interpersonal issues, and Leland was starting his magical training. His aunt had hired a cousin of the Rynauld family to teach him the most basic principles, and he took to them well enough. The day passed and everything was peachy.   Razi took Frigga her evening tea, and maybe they had snuck a kiss or two, though who could say? If Razi had spent a full twenty-minutes in her room, it would have been just so she didn’t have to make a second trip to retrieve Frigga’s tea tray. No other reason, honest, she always wore lip glass these days.   The rest of the staff went home for the day, and Razi returned to the kitchen. She looked at the bulletin board to see the notes for the following day: the Honeywood family’s employee was going to drop off a new shipment, so Razi was to rotate the cupboard. Easy enough. Razi thought to use up some of the honey they already had. Honeyed bread was always a hit, and if she remembered correctly, didn’t Frigga say it was one of her favourites? Or maybe it was Lelands? Or both? Regardless, it would make someone happy and would free up some space for the folks the next morning. Less to rotate and more bread was a win-win in her opinion.   When the kitchen’s clock struck midnight, Razi was elbows-deep in her dough and her front was covered in flour. The usual. She was the only soul awake, unless one of the magical siblings was having sleeping issues that night. With the rising stress of the looming wedding and heirdom ceremony, Frigga was having more nightmares recently so maybe the witch would be down sometime.   While she pondered that lovely fantasy, Razi heard a creaking sound from the floor above, the unmistakeable pat pat pat of young feet. Sounded like Leland was sleepwalking again; the kitchen was directly beneath the family’s private chambers, and there were a few squeaky floorboards that were strategically left unrepaired for such occasions. She took up a torch and set off to look for the young boy. After climbing the main staircase, Razi peered down the hall where the bedrooms were and sure enough, his door was ajar. She shook her head with a small smile and turned to find him. Couldn’t have gone far. The rest of the doors down that hallway were closed so Razi set off towards the office and library, the only other rooms on the floor. She looked down the second hallway to see the library door ajar. Why was it open? The office door was open too for no apparent reason, which meant Leland could have gone into either room.   When she peered into the library, her heart stopped. Razi wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t a small boy she’d found. A pair of larger figures, probably men, were hunched over the small, locking cabinet in the far corner of the room by the door joining the library to the office. That hutch contained some old documents and was off limits to anyone except the family. The arcane information there was sensitive and exclusive, and the magic contained within was developed by some of the Thorneheart family’s founding members. If there was a book someone was going to break in for, it’d be in that vault.   Holding her breath, Razi slid back out of sight of the library’s door and quietly put her torch in a nearby sconce. She wasn’t sure what the game plan was, but she had to act quickly. Razi took a deep, calming breath, trying to slow her heart’s pounding pulse and refocus. Leland was the priority, the burglars were secondary. She snuck past to the office’s door to see if he was there, but found the room empty. It meant he was likely in the library with those thugs.   She would try to capture them, hopefully loud enough to wake Leland. What if these guys already got to him? She looked down the hall and saw there was an unlit torch in the sconce next to the one she had brought. Very carefully, Razi grabbed it and snuck into the library using the shelves as cover. Because the door was already open, her entry did not grab the men’s attention; they seemed incredibly involved in their search.   Razi crept around the library’s perimeter, her eyes sweeping through the aisles. No Leland, had he just disappeared into thin air? As she circled the room, she came up to a shelf that was near to the intruders, and saw a window with a rope draped over it. That’s how they got in, pretty simple. These guys seemed kind of bad at their job, though. New to the gig, perhaps? She also heard them quietly arguing about what they would be taking and to hurry it up. From here Razi saw that the door to Sapphire’s office from the library was open too. So that wasn’t great. They had either already been through the office or would hit it next.   She crept a bit closer, the two robbers stopped arguing and started replacing documents into the hutch, their backs turned her way. Perfect target, and really not great at their job if they weren’t looking out for each other.   Luckily, Razi was a good shot.   She flung the torch, and it bashed into one of the robber’s heads, knocking him out cold. It crashed and clanged to the floor, and the other robber whipped around to see where the attack had come from. Seeing Razi, he sprung to his feet, grabbed a dagger from his boot, and sized Razi up.   “If ya needed t’ return a book,” Razi yelled, “y’coulda just waited till the mornin’. Would’ve waived the late fee an everything!” Hopefully the yelling would wake Leland, wherever the fuck he was. Razi’s eyes still flitted around the room in search of him but only for a half-heartbeat at a time, she couldn’t let this guy out of her sight.   The thief looked like he was about to run when a rustling sounded from behind him in the office. Without hesitation, the burglar launched his dagger in that direction, and Razi’s blood ran cold.   A shriek, louder than any she had ever heard. Leland had been stabbed by the knife.   Razi rushed forward, the thief bolted out the way he’d come, leaving the accomplice. But fuck that guy, she rushed to the young boy’s side. He had been stabbed in the shoulder and was squirting blood. The boy was screaming in pain and shock, and the dagger fell to the floor. This was exactly what Razi had feared would happen, and now it had. She held Leland and grabbed a nearby blanket to apply pressure to the gushing wound. She prayed it wasn’t an artery, but the was so much that it could have been.   Footsteps rapidly approached from the hallway and then another scream, this time from Frigga who was first to arrive.   The witch rushed to her brother’s side. “Leland, oh my gods! Raz, what’s going on?”   “There was a break in, Leland startled them.” Razi’s voice was strained from putting as much pressure on the wound as she could. “Th’ guy fuckin’ threw ‘is knife without even lookin."   Frigga placed her pale, shaking hands over Razi’s and channeled her magic through the blanket. “Oh my gods, that’s deep,” she gasped. Her blue haze intensified until it was a beacon, lighting the office up like a lighthouse, and the witch strained with effort.   More people joined them, and Razi tried to explain while Frigga acted as life support. More screaming, more explaining, and as soon as Frigga had managed to slow the bleeding, Leland was taken to the infirmary; the poor boy had fainted and was incredibly weak. Frigga stayed with her brother as he was taken into the room, but was shooed out when a doctor arrived.   The local guard was summoned, and Razi was detained for questioning. She was released quickly because it was abundantly clear she had saved Leland’s life that night. She told the guards as much as possible, though honestly there wasn’t a lot to say, she was so shaken up that events had blurred over in her memory. She would never forget that scream though, the scream of an eight-year-old kid. It would haunt her in her nightmares, she was sure.   The man Razi had knocked out was apprehended; he was a man from town who had been down on his luck lately. He was hesitant to share details at first, but when Sapphire began threatening him with all sorts of creative magical tortures, his lips unlocked readily. She wasn’t just well-known as a powerful with, she was the powerful witch. Some rumours in town said that the coven leader was brought in when law enforcement needed assistance with tight-lipped prisoners, so it wasn’t hard to convince the man he’d be better off in prison than in the hands of the witch he’d wronged.   For the rest of the night, the family remained awake and Gertrude brewed everyone cups of calming tea. Sapphire and Frigga stayed together in a small sitting room near the infirmary, waiting to hear more news about Leland, and Razi returned to her room after being questioned. Once the thief was carted away, the authorities began combing through the library and office for more evidence. It was pretty cut and dry: they were hired muscle, as Razi had suspected, and were looking for something specific. However, there was no hard evidence to prove who’d hired them, and the arrested man claimed he didn’t know exactly who it was; he’d always received his orders through a magical communication book that he’d been ordered to burn before the operation that night, so any instructions that had been given were long gone.

  The rest of Frigga’s night was a blur. She stayed up for news about her brother and the news came at 4:00 am: the boy was safe and healing, but he would be weak for a while. Had Razi not been there, he would likely have died. Frigga and Sapphire had both cried in their relief, but were denied access to Leland for the night as he needed to rest.   Frigga made her way to the kitchen after receiving the news. She would absolutely be unable to sleep without some assistance, and didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to thank Razi, to make sure her love was alright. The woman had been rightfully terrified, and Frigga hadn’t seen her since the guard captain had taken her to a different room for questioning.   When she got to the kitchen, Gertrude greeted her. The woman was also visibly upset, but was being strong for the family. “How can I help you, Miss?”   She took a seat on one of the stools near the kitchen island. “I was hoping for some morning tea Gertrude. I don’t think I’ll be getting more sleep.”   The housekeeper nodded and turned to the kettle to fill it up. “Of course, Miss. I’ll get that for you now, would you like it in your room?”   Frigga decided she would do exactly the wrong thing. “No, please bring it to Razi’s room. I wanted to check in and thank her.”   Gertrude’s hands faltered. “Miss Frigga?” she questioned, disapproval saturating the words.   Frigga wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, and her tone was prickly, “Yes, Gertrude?”   She sighed dejectedly. “I’ll bring it to Miss Wood’s room,” she said as if about to promise her firstborn child to the fae. “Do you know where it is?”   But Frigga ignored the woman’s obvious misgivings. She stood, answered with a curt, “Yes, thank you,” and left the kitchen.   She ghosted down the corridor, still in her night dress and silky house coat, and tried to remember which way was which. It was a long, stone hallway lined with doors that lead to private rooms reserved for members of staff who either worked very early or very late. There weren’t many private rooms down here, and most of them were unoccupied, but each door helpfully had a wooden plaque displaying the resident’s name. It wasn’t too long before she stood in front of Razi’s, knocking softly on it.   Razi opened, a bit faster than Frigga had anticipated, and she was clearly surprised to see the heiress on her doorstep in her nightgown. She blinked sluggishly before stuttering, “Frigg, hi.”   Frigga peered around the larger woman into the room. “Can I come in? I have Gertrude coming with some breakfast tea in a few minutes.”   Leaning on the door somewhat, Razi let her in and shut it behind them. “Leland gon’ be alright?”   Frigga stood by the nearby bed, resting her hand on the wooden bed frame’s foot. “Yes, the doctor told us about half an hour ago. He lost a lot of blood, but he should fully recover.”   Razi sank to her bed and flopped down on her back, and Frigga was suddenly aware of the tart scent on her love. “I’m so glad, I thought… thought he was hurt so much worse.”   “The doctor said you saved his life, Raz.”   Razi looked from Frigga to her nightstand where her half-finished brandy sat. “Tea sounds great, Frigg,” she noted, “but ‘ve been int’ somethin’ a bit stronger already.” Frigga saw the drink and decided to take a turn. She plucked the drink off the side table, took a sip, grimaced, and then passed it back to Razi who sat back up. She drained the glass but didn’t put it down. “I thought he was dying, I thought I was gonna see him die. Fuck.”   Frigga grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and sat on the bed next to her love. They were doing this, she supposed, and poured another drink. “Are you alright, Raz?”   The woman laughed and buried her face in her free hand. “Nah.” She drank half the glass and then surrendered it to the witch. “I’m glad he’s gon’ be fine. Anything out of th’ shitty hire?”   Frigga shook her head. “He said he’ll cooperate, but apparently he doesn’t know much.” She placed a hand on Razi’s back to lightly rub it and Razi placed a hand on Frigga’s knee.   They sat together, taking turns sipping at the drink, interrupted only by Gertrude bringing tea. Neither said much, they barely even looked at each other, and both were shellshocked from the whole event. They merely sat together hand in hand, their presence comforting one another and making the event more bearable. The brandy put them to sleep as the lovers held each other close.   

#writing community #original fiction #hurt/comfort #dark academia #queer romance #writblr #writeblr #witch #queer fiction #lesbian #sapphic #writers on tumblr #fluffy #bookblr #queer fantasy #lgbt fiction #lgbt romance #lgbt fantasy #wlw #sapphic romance #Blood and Thorns #Frigga Thorneheart #Razi Wood #chapter 8 #part 2 #8.2 #my writing

[ciyapaofficial]

Tips on How To Motivate Yourself For a Regular Gym Routine

Numerous individuals intend to start exercising regularly each January. However, forming a new lifestyle habit might seem like an overwhelming task, mainly when it requires time and financial commitment. Additionally, even if you have managed to make it work and are attending a couple of times per week—congrats, that is fantastic!

At times you can feel uneasy, especially when you first start working out at an unknown fitness centre or gym and are unsure of what to expect. It may take some time before you truly feel at home in this unfamiliar setting. These crucial tips can help you bring yourself to the gym, even when it's the last thing you want to do, whether you've taken a break from the gym and are searching for a method to get back into the swing of things or have strayed from your regular gym routine. 

Dress Appropriately 

In many ways, getting dressed in a slim-fit T-shirt or a pair of yoga pants is more significant while leaving for the gym. According to research, our brains are capable of "enclothed cognition," which is a fancy way of saying that dressing the part might increase your motivation to finish a specific activity. You're much more likely to leave the house if you're dressed for exercise, and find yourself something like a t-shirt combo for men. 

Commit To An Action With A Friend

Planning to work out with a friend since having a partner helps keep track can be beneficial. It will be less likely that you will skip the session if you feel like someone else is depending on you to be there. The best part is that you may push each other to work harder by encouraging each other when your friend succeeds—whether it be by lifting more weight or by doing more lunges. 

Create a PLAN

There's nothing wrong with going to a gym and spending time on whatever workout equipment or activity you find appealing if you're just trying to get active. The drawback of those pointless trips, however, is that missing them doesn't feel like you're slowing down your progress. After a break-in period, it's helpful to visualise a goal—weight loss, increased energy, muscle gain, or a combination of all three—and direct your efforts toward achieving it. 

Leave Early for the Gym 

You can effectively avoid the eight to ten hours you invest in thinking about going to the gym by getting up early and going there before you start your day. If you wait, you could feel too exhausted to go. Exercise can be stimulating, making it the perfect morning routine. The first few mornings may be difficult to get out of bed, but once you find a routine, you'll be glad you did. 

Modify Your Exercise Regime Timely

Repeating the same activities again might get boring, even if you follow certain habits. Try switching up the order of the exercises or using an alternative—a flat bench press, for instance—to prevent getting bored. You'll keep your body and mind engaged in the sport by mixing things up. (Plus, you can always go back to your normal schedule afterwards.) 

Remove Any Kind of Obstacles

Your trip to the gym can be hindered by something. Is the broken coffee maker depriving you of the essential caffeine boost you need before exercising? Do you dislike your gym's setting or have issues with certain equipment? Don't wait until you can use obstacles as an excuse for skipping a session. Take action to solve the issue so you may go on with no obstacles. 

Find a Trainer

Although hiring a certified fitness instructor can increase the price of your workout, they can also bring a lot of real value. A professional may create a programme based on your objectives, train you how to use the equipment, and offer nutritional advice. Even though you might not require their help for very long, having them there when you first begin may encourage you to persist with it. 

Take Your Time To Recharge

You could believe that going to the gym every day removes any room for self-indulgence. Your body's need for rest will eventually triumph over your strong will, and you might find that you can go for days or even weeks without getting tired. It's best to schedule some downtime for recovery, whether it entails doing nothing or simply reducing your level of activity for a while. You won't be too exhausted to handle your next session if you do it that way. 

It is suggested that we change the way we think of our health to one of the individual opportunities to make a healthy choice rather than an overall, ongoing effort that we must actively monitor. Get started with your routine in combo tshirts for men to get your much-needed confidence. 

Original Source: https://www.ciyapa.com/blog/post/tips-on-how-to-motivate-yourself-for-a-regular-gym-routine

#ciyapa #best combo tshirts for men #gym tshirt combo #buy cool tshirts online #cotton tshirts for women

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog(258): Tue 29th Nov 2022

I don't think I can go through with my overtime plan. At the start of November when they told us that there would be unlimited overtime available I saw an opportunity to make some big dolla. My plan was to work every day bar the one day off I get every week and then by the time 2023 came around I would have close to £10,000 in my account. However the lack of time I've gotten to myself is starting to play with my mind and make the days seem meaningless now. I normally get in at 7 in the evening and by the time 10 comes around I feel myself falling asleep so I hardly have any time to myself. Also when I wake up at 7 the next morning (on days where the dog hasn't woken me up at 5:30 by puking all over the place) it feels like I have only been asleep for a few minutes so at the moment I am very much living to work rather than working to live which isn't ideal even if I am getting paid boatloads of money.

I need at least one day day off to relax and do my own thing and at present the one day off I am getting is spent looking after Luna which I love but it's hardly relaxing). At the moment I've got nearly £4500 in my account and the holiday is going to cost about £1700 so after I've gotten that paid off and all my Xmas presents sorted I should still have a good amount in there. Plus we're still required to do one mandatory extra day in the run up to Christmas which is time and a half so I should still make a small profit by the time the year is up. The reason I've been obsessed with saving is because my contract is listed as a temporary one that is due to end in February but everyone I've spoken to seems to be of the opinion that it will get extended and since I'm now trained in stow, warehouse and packing, I hope it wont be too braggadocios of me to say that I've become something of an asset to them in the six months I've been there. It would be against their best interest to hire someone else and train them up to do all three of these processes when they have someone who can do them already. So now that I'm fairly confident that I am going to be kept on and won't end up on the dole I'm a little less obsessed with saving every penny. Plus if things ever got really bad financially I would have the money Grandad left me to bail me out. Maybe I'll start taking overtime once every two weeks and then every other week have my usual three days off just to try and keep what little sanity I have left intact. The problem of feeling as though there aren't enough hours in the day could be completely solved if they just let me listen to music, podcasts / audiobooks on a headphone at work. If they let me do this I could do a hard days work and be entertained / possibly learn new things at the same time but they don't seem to be budging on that front. I've explained to multiple people that if we were listening to our own music on ONE headphone we would still have ONE ear free to hear the fire alarm but clearly the woman at health and safety must have been raped by someone wearing a headset at some point and this has made them not want to see anyone wearing headsets so they've outlawed them and given this poxy fire alarm excuse to justify it. Maybe I'll stop doing overtime and if one of the managers offers me some I'll say that I would volunteer for it every week if I was allowed to listen to my own music but because I'm forced to listen to theirs I don't want to take advantage of their overtime offers. Hopefully if I explain the stupidity of the no headphones policy to the right person they will get it changed and then I will happily do overtime all the time and end up being loaded.

[sluttyten]

so I took like a 4 hour nap earlier so even though I have to be awake in 4.5 hours from now I’m like not even tired, but also I’m dreading going into work in the morning just because this week has been exhausting and we’re constantly short staffed even though we’ve been getting busier, and I just remembered that I have to help train someone knew tomorrow and I am simply just not feeling it 😭

#but also like the person I’m training is getting there around the time that I might normally go on break #and then the person that’s taking over my position so I can slide into a different one and so they’ll also be taking over training literally #gets there half an hour after the person I’m supposed to be training gets there? #so like that doesn’t make any sense at all #but that does mean I guess that I won’t really hardly have to train this person after all #and I feel like it’s not likely that this person is gonna stay #it seems like every time they hire someone for us to train in the mornings the person either quits or they just start getting schedules mids #or closing instead of opening which like …. we may be a bit clique-y in the mornings but that’s because it’s always the same 4 people and we #have been doing this together for 3 years now (at least 3 of us have been for 3 years the other one has been like a year and a half) but #like obviously it’s gonna be difficult for someone brand new to the company to come in and try to join in something like that right away #but also people don’t want to work mornings anyway especially not when that means getting to work at 5am #I should probably go to sleep rn honestly but i just keep rambling in the tags #I was just queuing some stuff too to post tomorrow and I started rambling in the tags there too #also 😫 I know I should sleep now but I just started getting hungry and I won’t have time to eat tomorrow until I get to go on break #and I’ve had a headache for like 12 hours now that my nap didn’t help so I’m probably about to start my period to make all of these things #even worse (which would explain the impatient attitude I’ve had the last few days as well as me taking a nap every single day this week so #far but I have also been working longer shifts and it’s just been busy and stressful)

[justsomegalwhoshere]

Daddy’s Small Hero

Note: I’m back with another dad Bakugou fic bitches 😎 this time it’s Baku with an absolute chonk of a baby. Again, this entire thing was inspired by @hanji-is-life and the people who sent the amazing asks there. I can’t stop, they’re so good 😩 also idk how fast a baby’s development is. My little sister was a baby but that’s was 11 years ago- Criticism is welcome as always.

Warnings: cursing cuz bakugou, but just fluff overall. Not prof read

‘Had to go to the hospital quickly for an appointment! Katsumi and Sakura are at school already. Take Katsuo with you to the agency please!

-Y/N <3’

Bakugou sighed as he put down the note and headed to the living room where his son was. He woke up and was surprised to see you weren’t there in bed with him, and was only even more surprised he saw his son was awake in his playpen doing his thing. After finding the note tacked on the fridge however, he understood the situation.

Bakugou looked into the playpen and smiled. His son Katsuo. He looked exactly like his dad, ash blonde hair, red eyes, and an absolute monster of a baby. It’s not that he cried a lot, in fact he hardly cried at all. He was just extremely chunky. He was in 6 month clothes at 3 months old. He was a chunky baby, a chubby tummy and rolls on his arms and legs. Hell, he even had rolls for knees! He was currently in toddler clothes at 10 months old and was trying to shove his fat fist in his mouth. He took notice of his dad and started making grabby hands up at him.

Bakugou chuckled. “Hey squirt, ready to start the day?” His son gurgled.

Bakugou lifted his son up with a soft grunt. “Jesus, did you grow overnight? You get heavier every day.” His baby slapped a drool covered hand on bakugou’s cheek. “..I deserved that.”

After strapping on the baby carrier and putting Katsuo in front of chest, he began making breakfast. Starting with Katsuo’s. Sure, it was time consuming making breakfast for his infant son, but he refused to let him eat that processed shit from the store. Bakugou placed a strawberry and a banana on the counter. He wasn’t sure why he did this, but he let his son choose what fruit he wanted in his breakfast. He read somewhere it was good for development. “K, choose one brat,” he said softly. Katsuo stared before grabbing at the strawberry. “Good choice,” Bakugou responded before dropping a few strawberries in the blender and starting his breakfast. The entire time, he stirred up conversation with Katsuo.

“So what did you dream about last night?”

“Da!”

“You fought Endeavour himself and won?”

“Ba-da-ba!”

“No shit, what did you do after?”

“Baaab.”

“Nice. I’ll make note of that the next time I train then.”

…

After a quick breakfast and a diaper change, Katsuki made his way to the agency, baby bag in hand. It should be ok to take Katsuo today. All he had was paperwork and an interview. Katsuki didn’t want just ANYONE working for him. He needed to make sure those who were hired were reliable people. Bakugou stopped in front of the building and addressed his son in the harness, “this is where daddy works. He runs his own agency. Isn’t that cool?” Katsuo blew a little raspberry.

Almost all eyes were on Bakugou as he entered the building. They went from neutral to confused seeing a drooly baby harnessed on the pro hero’s chest, and even more confused seeing a baby bag in hand.

Ignoring all the prying eyes, Bakugou approached Kirishima, who also was gawking at the baby in the harness.

“What? It’s not a fucking alien, get a hold of yourself.” Kirishima’s eyes snapped back up and looked at Bakugou. He put a hand behind his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to seeing you with your son that often.”

“Hah!? Are you calling me a terrible dad?” Bakugou questioned as his eyebrows furrowed more.

“No! Just drop it, look the candidate for receptionist is already with the interviewer. Just make it quick, ok? And don’t send them running away in tears!” Kirishima called out as Bakugou grunted and walked towards his office. Bakugou stopped in front of his office door and addressed his son once again,

“This is daddy’s office. You excited to step inside?”

“Aa!”

“Well, today I am too.” Bakugou opened the door and saw some interviewer extra behind his desk and a female sitting across from it.

“Ah, you’re here Mr. Bakugou! Please, take a seat!” The interviewer chirped. Bakugou sat down in a chair on the side of the desk and unclasped the harness. He set Katsuo on a sitting position on the desk and dumped some toys there for his son. Katsuo took a chunky plastic block and immediately began to chew on it.

The female blinked. “Umm… is the baby staying here the entire time?”

Bakugou growled lowly. “He has a fucking name. It’s Katsuo. And yes, he is. That a fucking problem?”

“N-no, im sorry sir,” she replied as Katsuo cooed.

“Let’s get this started. What’s your name?” Bakugou said, calming down.

The female cleared her throat. “Akane, sir.”

The interview went along fairly smoothly, Akane answered the questions well and seemed reliable enough to work here, Bakugou noted as he played a bit with Katsuo. Still, Bakugou needed more convincing. He didn’t need another receptionist crying into his coffee cup in the mornings. The more the interview progressed, the more impatient Bakugou became.

“Can we hurry this shit up? It’s almost tummy time for Katsuo!” Bakugou barked. Both Akane and the interviewer jumped at the sudden outburst.

“Sorry Dynamight sir, just one more question and we’ll be done here.”

Bakugou huffed and put Katsuo on his lap, who was trying to shove the block in Bakugou’s face. He chuckled. “Stop that shit, that’s fucking gross, wasn’t it in your mouth?” Katsuo gurgled in response, still shoving the drool covered block in his dad’s face. Akane was distracted at this display. Dynamight, the number 2 pro hero, softening for someone? She didn’t think it was possible. Bakugou looked back up, scowling as he realized no one was talking. “The fuck are you looking at?” He growled at Akane.

Akane yelped and cleared her throat. “N-nothing! Just- just looking around” she said hurriedly as she straightened herself.

Bakugou squinted his eyes and looked down at his son. “What do you think of her, Katsuo?”

Katsuo was currently transfixed on shoving two chubby fingers in his own mouth. Once he finally did babble again, he slapped his thighs while bouncing up and down, making “da” sounds over and over. Akane thought the display was cute before Bakugou spoke up again.

“My son says you’re a terrible liar and that you’re on thin fucking ice.”

Akane shivered a bit. She was going to be here a while longer, wasn’t she?

…

A few more exchanges like that back and forth (Katsuo cooing and bakugou interpreting as a a threat), the interview finally ended.

Akane slumped on the wall outside the door and slowly sat herself down. God, that went terribly! She kept getting distracted by the baby! There was no way she was getting this job! She blew it-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched laugh. Akane registered it was coming from the office. Silently, she got up and peered through the door, which was slightly ajar.

Bakugou was blowing raspberries on his baby’s stomach while Katsuo laughed hysterically. Akane stood there dumbfounded. She never thought Bakugou was the fatherly type. Bakugou kept doing this and laughed along with the baby until he put them down in a sitting position. “Alright brat, it’s tummy time,” he grumbled as he spread a blanket on the desk and laid his son down on the blanket, back facing the ceiling. His son thrashed his limbs around a bit before calming down. Bakugou chuckled and pulled a couple toys out of his bag and settled them around Katsuo. His son tried moving around to grab the toys, cooing all the while.

Akane left before she was noticed. She was confused by this secret side of Bakugou.

…

Despite her doubtful thoughts earlier, Akane managed to land the job as the receptionist at Bakugou’s agency. She liked talking to the people she met everyday, and even met his wife a couple times.

Akane was typing away and noticed someone approaching from the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Mrs. Bakugou! How are you?”

You looked at Akane and smiled, carrying your son. “I’m just fine, thank you! I’m just wondering where Katsuki is!”

“Right here,” a gruff voice responded. Both females turned around and saw the hero approaching both of them.

You gave your husband a kiss and handed him Katsuo and a box wrapped in cloth.

“You forgot your lunch again, I’m starting to believe you’re doing it on purpose” you scolded.

Bakugou laughed and pecked your cheek. “I might start doing it intentionally if I get to see my beautiful wife and son more often at work.”

Akane observed this exchange before Katsuo turned his head towards her, looking at her with wide red eyes and made grabby hands that Bakugou paid no kind to. Akane, however, shivered and turned back towards the computer, typing more feverishly. Those red eyes that looked exactly like his father’s creeped her out ever since that interview. Sure, Katsuo was adorable, but what came out of his mouth was scary.

#bakugou #mha x reader #dad bakugou #fluff #domestic dad bakugou #domestic bakugou #not really but still #chubby baby #mha #bakugou is a little shit #but we love him #idk how to tag help

[yandere-daydreams]

Diluc knows how hard it can be to find good help.

In Mondstadt, especially, where carelessness tends to be indulged well beyond the point of reason and civilians are taught to rely on the Knights of Favonius for every little thing, often to their own detriment. He might be absent caretaker, when it comes to the Dawn Winery's upkeep, but he rarely allows himself to be neglectful, and as much as Adelinde protests, he tries to take on as much responsibility as he can, conducting interviews and keeping an eye on new hires and cutting off loose ends, if any of the people he brings in prove to be less useful than he'd hoped.

He doesn't want to be cruel, but he needs to be careful. Not everyone has the patience and the diligence to work in an industry that requires so much attention to detail, that requires so much dedication. Not everyone's cut out for it.

Not everyone can be like you.

You were Adelinde's pick, admittedly. An assistant, a secretory, someone to organize his paperwork and scan through contracts and deem what's worth him time and what's not, considering how little he has to spare. You're careful, and meticulous, and you have more of mind for it than he does, more of a willingness to spend hours at a time pouring over budgets and vetting proposals made by foreign distributors eager to sell his wine for half of what it's worth inside the city's walls. You willing to rise at dawn to receive guests, to stay in his office until the small hours of the morning, discussing the merits of a new, experimental recipe or lending the Dawn Winery's name to a up-and-coming tavern in Liyue. You're willing to do whatever you have to, whatever he asks you to, as long as you're compensated for your time.

You're willing to let him keep you in that cramped, isolated office for a few more hours, too, to let him shove the paperwork you've spent so much time perfecting onto the floor and bend you over his desk, the desk you seem to admire so much, the desk you look so stunning pressed up against, panting and disheveled, too worn down to care about your oh-so-precious professionality, anymore.

You used to fight him, claw at his wrists, scream when he caught you by the wrist and thrash until you were too exhausted to put up a proper fight, but you're more docile, now, more compliant, and you're smart enough to get on your knees when you feel his hand on your shoulder, to open your mouth before he has to threaten to dock your wages. You still don't enjoy it, kneeling on unforgiving wood, his cock in your mouth, his hand smoothing over your hair, but you tolerate it, and you don't pull away every few minutes, anymore, gasping for air, swearing that another second would've killed you. He's more responsible, than that, more assiduous. He knows how to train away what he doesn't like.

He's still working on your nails, the way you claw at his chest whenever he doesn't bother with restraints, and your teeth, not sharp enough to do any real harm, but prone to snapping at his neck in a way he can hardly call 'romantic'. You're coming along, but its slow progress, painstaking work, and you're still too stubborn to admit its happening at all, to let him treat you as anything more or anything less than his assistant, his secretary, his hired hand. You're lucky that he's so patient, so diligent, and he can only be thankful that you're a quick learner, obedience coming to you too naturally to be staved off by avoidance and self-preservation alone.

You're a sweet little thing, even if you're not ready to admit it, just yet. He knows you'll come around, eventually, with enough encouragement. You've always been such a good employee, after all, such a good worker.

And he knows you can be good for him, too. With enough guidance from your loving, doting master.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere drabbles #genshin x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #yandere diluc x reader #diluc x reader #yandere diluc #yanderecore #yancore

[lily-drake]

Fantasy/Twin AU

Sorry for being late and not posting for a bit. Was a bit burnt out and had writer block. I will go back to write the other days soon though. Also, sorry, I suck at writing wing aus, this is my first time doing it.

Earth J-236, an earth full of mystical life.  An earth where everyone is born with wings.  Your wings represented who you are; well not really, but that’s what people believed.  If your wings were bright and colorful then you were obviously an amazing person, but if your wings were darker or had little color, then you have great evil in your soul.  Marinette was born seconds after her twin, Damian.  It takes a few years before your wings fully grow in, usually to about 6.  But with the accelerated growth serums used in their artificial wombs, it took them till they were three for their feathers to sprout.  Damian’s were black like their father’s with subtle hints of red like their mothers.  Marinette’s were pure black, devoid of any color, and her mother was so proud of that.  She was the League’s charm, for it’s believed that anyone with pure black wings was pure evil.  Her only purpose being to protect her brother, nothing else was more important than her brother’s safety.  She would die for him, because if he died she might as well have died as well as her only purpose for living would be gone.

Damian glared at his sister, his wings ruffling in annoyance.  She was hovering close to him again, and she never said anything to him ever unless she was completely sure they were alone.  He did not believe that his sister was or could ever be, “pure evil” just because of her wings.  In fact, her mannerisms are the exact opposite of what people believed.  She, in her own ways, is caring, sweet, and protective.  He had seen, and helped, her nurse a baby bird that had fallen from its nest back to health.  She would often place little things around the base for only him to find such as some extra baklava, a throwing knife, a drawing of someone, beads, or other random objects.  Grandfather had always been extra hard on her, making sure she wouldn’t betray them, she wouldn’t become “evil enough to lose herself”.  Sometimes she would sneak into his room at night, and it tore him apart to see silent tears run down his little sister's face as small black raven feathers fell onto the floor from her days worth of training.  He had been learning how to fly, her wings had been clipped every two or three months so she could not leave the base.  She had learned long ago to control her facial and wing expressions, but he could always see the droop in them and the sad shine in her eyes as she stood on the ground while he was in the air.

________

Marinette looked up and watched as the fiery Phoenix flew through the air setting Nada Parabat aflame.  She didn’t feel much as she watched her grandfather get blown up.  She only felt great anxiety and fear as she could not find her brother.  She loved her brother, and if her job was to cause chaos, she would make sure she could prevent it from hurting him.  Grandfather had told her about how cursed she was, it’s why they had to be extra tough on her, and she understood that.  They couldn’t have her hurting anyone they needed, only the people they wanted gone.  She was angry at grandfather yesterday for taking some of her feathers for failing a task, this must have been her fault.  She didn’t want to hurt her brother, her wings had only proven nothing but destruction.  She had to leave now, then she could go where no one else was, and she wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else.  So like a coward, like the disgrace she was, she ran.  She kept her wings tight against her back making sure that no one could grab them as she ran.  An arrow hit one of them, but she didn’t have time to think about the burning pain as she ran and ran and ran farther and farther and farther away.  Tears ran down her cheeks as she silently prayed that her brother would be okay.

She didn’t know how long she ran, but she knew it must have been a really long time as she had just collapsed from exhaustion in the woods.  She looked back at her wings and slowly and carefully spread them out and hissed in pain from where the arrow had pierced her left wing.  Drops of red slowly dripped down her feathers and dropped on the ground.  She quickly closed them and made sure they were as small and put away as possible.  She looked up at the trees made of brass with different colored jade leaves.  Pearl-like apples growing on a few.  She watched a baby griffon follow it’s mother in the distance, turtle ducks waddling to a pond somewhere nearby, deer nibbling on plants, she could hear the rustling of leaves and branches from unseen creatures and everything was getting more blurry and dark.  She was cold, it felt very cold.  She slowly unwound her wings from around herself and closed them tightly around her, but that didn’t stop the chill that went deep down to her bones.  She was a failure, a mistake, she would only cause harm.  Here she wouldn’t be able to do that, and if she died here, then no one would be hurt by her again, and wasn’t that such a nice thought.

________

Tom and Sabine had finally been able to hire some trusted employees and explore places in Tibet.  They had made lots of money over the years with their successful bakery, and they thought now was a better time than ever to go on a real honeymoon as they hadn’t been able to afford it before when the bakery had first started.  It was during one of these forest explorations when they saw a trail of little drops of blood and felt they needed to follow it.  What they discovered broke their hearts.  There lying on the cold forest floor was what appeared to be a child hugging their very black wings around them.  They knew of the rumors and myths of black winged people, but they did not care.  They believed that their wings were not what made them evil, but rather situations put into their lives.  Sabine quickly checked for a pulse, and though it was slow she sighed in relief when she felt it.  She quickly handed the small unconscious girl to Tom and they both quickly went to the nearest hospital.  How could someone leave such a small child all alone to die like that?  It looked as if she had been injured if the dried blood on the small fragile wings said anything.  And worst of all, upon closer examination, they had been clipped, recently too.

As soon as they arrived they carried the small girl to the front and demanded that they take her in.  They waited until the doctors were done and gave them permission to visit claiming to be the girl’s adopted parents.  It wasn’t technically a lie, they would be soon even if Sabine had to force it to happen.

When Marinette woke up she knew something was off.  She was under a blanket, she’s never been given a blanket before.  The sent of bleach and chemicals were everywhere and it hurt her nose.  There was a beeping noise next to her that was giving her a headache.  She didn’t know where she was, and that was bad.  She opened her eyes a small fraction so nobody could see she was awake and looked around as much as she could.  The entire room was white and there were bright lights.  There were two strange people waiting in chairs near where she was laying.  She wondered if they were the ones who brought her here.  Slowly she opened them up all the way and silently sat up.  It’s best to make no noise, then she wouldn’t disturb anyone.

“Oh sweety, I’m so glad you’re awake.”

The woman said in a cheery and relieved manner, but she just continued to watch and study them silently.  Her wings felt stiff against her back, though she made sure they didn’t move or give anything away.

“How are you feeling dear?”

Silence greeted them, and her face remained as impassive as ever.  They wanted something, why else would they save a freak like her?  What were they aiming for here?

“Did your parents hurt you?  If so, we can take you away from them.”

Marinette’s eyes widened only a fraction.  These were randoms, innocents if you will.  They obviously had no idea who she was, and they seemed unafraid of her and her wings.  Did they not know how dangerous she was, didn’t they know that black wings meant she was cursed?  The man and the woman looked at eachother and spread their wings.  Marinette was shocked, but she wouldn’t show it.

The large man had light brown eagle wings while the small woman had white and black woodpecker wings.  She wanted to reach out and touch the feathers, but then something bad would happen to them, so she held her hands together.

“We don’t care what your wing color is.  Your wings don’t define who you are, it’s what you do with your life that does.  Can we please help you?”

The woman said sincerely as she gripped the man’s hand in hers.  She felt a pull to them, something telling her to accept.  She didn’t want to hurt them though.  But maybe she could protect them?  Maybe she could find a way around her curse and make sure they don’t get hurt?  Slowly she nodded and they both looked so happy when she did.  She hoped that she wouldn’t hurt them, they didn’t deserve to be cursed.  Maybe if she didn’t touch them things would be ok.  If she didn’t let them touch her then it wouldn’t spread.  She could do this!

________

Apparently she couldn’t do it because this is a very affectionate family, and the first thing that happened before they let her sleep on their —super fluffy, pure Heaven— bed was give her a hug.  She had made sure that her wings were tucked under her clothes and tight against her back the entire time though.  So they didn’t touch her wings, so maybe that meant they wouldn’t be cursed.

It was strange, because the next morning they went to a courthouse, and she was adopted.  She hadn’t said anything throughout the entire event, she just watched and observed what people did.  They stayed in Tibet for another few days before they flew to Paris, France.  This was supposed to be her new home.  The city of light and love.  Maybe here, it would stop her curse.  It was so bright that it had to block out her darkness.  She still always carried one of her knives with her, she felt naked without one.  Tom and Sabine seemed to understand somehow, and said that it was her business and that was enough for them till she was ready to talk about it.  It was strange not to be interrogated for now wanting to tell someone something.

Marinette had lived with the Dupain-Chengs for about a year now.  It was strange really, they were honest business people and their joy was always sincere.  They didn’t question much of what she did even though it was probably weird to them.  They didn’t punish her for messing up like the league did, and they never went near her wings without permission.  They never plucked her feathers, and they would often ask if they could preen her wings.  She would refuse every time, but she would often wonder what it would be like to have someone else touch them.  Think of what it would be like if she weren’t cursed.  When it was time for school she would always wrap them around herself then tape them so no one would see or be able to touch them.  Things were finally going well, she couldn’t risk it now!

There was a blonde brat that liked to act like she was above her, and because her wings were always hidden with no explanation she made sure everyone knew that she was “wingless”.  She didn’t care though, being wingless was better than being evil winged.  She never really said anything in class or to other students, she never gave much reaction keeping her stoic face up.  The brat left her alone soon after for being a, “ridiculous!  Utterly ridiculous freak.”  And nobody was the wiser.

Being Lady Chaos was….the best thing that ever happened to her if she was being honest.  Even with pure black wings, people still thought she was a hero.  She never flew, she was scared she’d fall and die.  She was never allowed to fly before, and even if she technically can do so now, it’s not worth the risk.  Her partner though, Mr. Bug has gold, red, and black wings.  He can fly through the air with ease she wished she desperately had.  Sometimes after patrol she would go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower and just stretch her wings out as far out as she could.  She would close her eyes as the wind blew past her and ruffled her feathers and pretend that she was soaring through the air.

________

Year three of living with Tom and Sabine she was comfortable talking to them more, and with Plagg there to control her chaos she finally let them touch her wings.  It was strange really, she never took care of her wings, never cared enough to.  When she first felt the hands on her feathers she had to will herself not to draw them back for fear of them plucking or ripped out.  But Sabine’s hands were so gentle and smooth that they seemed to move on their own and go closer to her touch.  Sabine would smile and hum as she gently preened the dark raven feathers that were soft and smooth.  Maybe she could finally tell the class that she wasn’t wingless soon, and maybe they would be okay with it.

No, they would not as she learned from listening to her classmates talk to the new student, Lila Rossi.  To them Lady Chaos was the only good black winged person because she was chasing after Mr. Bug to earn his affections.  Lady Chaos was obviously evil before she met Mr. Bug and she would always be evil no matter what she did.  Marinette felt nauseous that she ever thought about telling them the truth.  She had never felt more betrayed than she felt now, because she had given them her trust, and they broke it without even knowing it.  After that day, she made extra sure that her wings were hidden and wore a bit thicker clothing just in case.  Tom and Sabine are a little worried about it, but she calmed them pretty quickly.  She was fine, it wasn’t like they were all great friends to begin with.  That’s probably why everyone sides with Lila and decides that she’s a terrible person.

She had tried leaving her past behind, pretending that she didn’t hurt and kill people.  Pretend that she wasn’t a weapon.  She tried to push it far away, but it wasn’t enough.  It was never enough.  She had abandoned her brother.  She betrayed the league.  She did unspeakable things to please someone who would never care about her, just her use.  The city of lights seems duller than usual, it was probably her fault Hawkmoth came to be in the first place, afterall she was cursed to bring ruin everywhere she went.

________

Lila and Chloe thought it would be a great idea to bring everybody to the Crime Capital of the World for their senior trip.  Probably to watch people flounder and worry when things go wrong, which they definitely would.  She had stopped Hawkmoth a month before the trip, but Mr. Bug took all the credit for it. The arrogant self centered bas*.  Adrien kept giving her side glances that always made her feel uncomfortable and slightly disgusted.  During school he would try to touch her with every chance he’d get.  He almost discovered her wings at one point.  She couldn’t do anything about it before because of the stupid your-rich-so-do-whatever-the-heck-you-want treatment.  Now that Adrien’s family fortune is gone, and people don’t trust him because of what his dad did, so he has to be more careful.  He now kept some distance, which she was extremely grateful for.

She would have broken his hand, she had imagined it plus other things more than once.  But then Tom and Sabine would get in trouble by Gabriel for her actions.  They didn’t deserve that, they had been nothing but good to her since they found her abandoned in that forest.

She would be fine though, as long as Lila had a grip on his arm and she was in the back, away from him.  She listened to their tour guide, Richard Grayson, talk about the history and importance of WE.  The architecture was brilliant really, and you couldn’t blame her for having to draw and sketch it.  She often thought of Damian when she sketched.  She used to leave drawings for him around the base, little things that expressed her adoration for him without getting too close.  She wondered if he was still with the league, had he escaped, did he die?  She hoped that wasn’t the case, she hoped that he would be alive and well.  Bright orange and white wings nearly slapped her in the face if she hadn’t stopped right before the movement had occurred.

“Oh my gosh!  I’m so sorry Marinette!  Sometimes my wings just spasm out of control like that!  I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Marinette just silently rolled her eyes and took a few steps backward and watched the class glare at her waiting for her to comfort the liar.  She would never lower herself to do that.  She was still an Al Ghul afterall, even if she did leave it behind when she fled.  She was thankful when lunch came, she waited far away from the line and watched silently from a dark corner to make sure no one would hurt her.  Then she felt it, a hand touching her back feeling for something.  She quickly and instinctively grabbed the arm and twisted it behind them pinning it behind their back at a painful angle.

“Ukhti, let go.”

Marinette knew that voice.  She remembered that name and she could feel her heart stop.  The lunchroom was silent as they watched the small bluenette silently and quickly release the “Ice Prince”. Everyone watched with bated breaths to see what would happen next.  The boy’s wings were ruffled in agitation and fear.

“Where are they?”

He demanded.  Marinette knew what he was talking about, she simply wrapped her arms around herself and turned her head away definitely.

“Why are you hiding them, Malak?  Please.”

Marinette could feel her wings moving in defiance to what her brain was saying.  They wanted to be shown, they wanted to be touched by her brother again.  She looked down and slowly uncrossed her arms from her body.  Damian gently took her hands in his and looked directly into her eyes.

“Everything will be ok, Taw'ami.”

She slowly nodded and with shaky fingers reached under her hoodie and began to slowly unwrap the tape that kept her wings confined.  When all the tape was in her hands she hesitantly removed her hoodie and let her wings unfold from around herself and into the open.  She had made shirts that let her wings slip through slits in the back that were tailored to her wings specifically and were most comfortable.  Damian marveled at how big her raven wings had grown and how shiny they were.  He reached out a hand slowly and gently ran his fingers down the inky black that was her wings.

Shouts of fear and accusations were thrown at her, mostly from her class.  She didn’t listen though, she just observed.  The tour guide was coming over now, probably to kick her out.  He had such lovely wings though,  they were a deep navy blue that looked similar to black with dark red and light blue running through them.  They looked so well kept and soft.

“Damian, what’s happening?  Who is this?”

“Grayson, meet my twin sister, Marinette.”

“You have a twin?!”

Richard exclaimed loudly, drawing even more attention.  The insults and jeers stopped after that.  She looked over at the class and smirked when she saw their shock and confusion.

“Yes, keep up.”

Damian said brusquely.  They must know each other well then.

“Come, we must take her away from these imbeciles and take her to father.”

Damian grabbed her wrist and tugged, her quickly falling into line like she used to when he did this.

“Now tell me Ukhti, have you been taking care of yourself?”

She nodded as they came to an elevator and walked into it with Richard right behind them.  Marinette felt her feathers fluff up nervously.  She wasn’t in control of them right now, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Damian ran a hand gently down her right wing trying to smooth it down.

“Things will be fine Marinette.  Just watch, father will be glad to meet you.”

She looked him in the eyes and squeezed her hands together.

“No, I have not told him about you.  Things will be fine though.”

He seemed to understand her weird way of communicating, she still didn’t understand how he did.  Richard cleared his throat and both turned to look at him.

“Sorry to interrupt, but um…I’m Dick, I’m Damian’s, and yours I guess, oldest brother.  It’s nice to meet you.”

He spread his wings in a welcoming way that meant and showed safety and peace. Her wings involuntarily rose up as well to reciprocate his greeting.  When the door to the elevator opened again she quickly forced her wings to hide on her back trying desperately to keep them from sight.  Damian didn’t seem to like it, but he just grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a large office room.  The plaque on the door read “CEO Bruce Wayne”.  Their father was Bruce Wayne?!  She couldn’t go in there, she couldn’t curse him and ruin his life.  No, she had already messed up at the league, and she was just barely not messing up with Tom and Sabine, she would definitely ruin Bruce Wayne’s life, and she would not allow that to happen.  She tugged at his grip desperately trying to get away.

“Marinette, stop.  Your wings are not cursed, that was a lie.”

Marinette shook her head and kept trying to escape the iron-like grip.

“Do you not trust me anymore?”

She froze at that and quickly shook her head.  Of course she trusted him, it was her that shouldn’t be trusted.

“Good, because we’re going in now.”

And that was that, because the door was now open and she was being dragged into the office room where their father and another boy with large bags under his eyes stared at them.  Damian puffed up his chest and feathers letting his strong, big, and brilliant wings rise into the air.

“Father, this is your daughter, my twin, Marinette Erebus Al Ghul-Wayne.”

They both stared at her in shock and Marinette slowly and cautiously raised her despicable black wings into the air.  Both stared at them in awe before looking back at her, but she didn’t meet their eyes.  She didn’t want to see the disgust and hatred in their eyes.

After a few moments she looked up and saw their wings greeting hers like Dick’s had.  Their father’s wings were a mix of black and dark grey alternating the color in each row of feathers.  The other boy’s were black at the top and slowly turned to red at the bottom.  But they were welcoming her openly, so that must mean something!  Well, it was time to get to know her father, she guessed.

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