#this is also the chapter where they first get chickens. man i fucking love chickens

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won’t Let Go

No good deed goes unpunished

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 2.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Zombie apocalypse (I like how I lied to both myself and y’all that there was ever gonna be a chance of it being another type of apocalypse), both John and Love are a little crazy which is to be expected re: zombie!au, more nausea, more pregnancy related discourse, zombie world building and the ramifications/implications of being pregnant in the apocalypse, the author is currently having A Thing about pepperoncinis, strong hints to the events that lead to Love being abandoned, etc etc etc

First/Previous Chapter Here | Next Chapter

Captain John Price of the SAS, it seems, has decided to keep you.

As a child your neighbors had an Australian Cattle Dog.

He reminds you of that dog. Keyed in on your every move, herding you about as he sees fit throughout the day.

Gets irritated just like that dog used to, if he finds you somewhere he thinks you shouldn’t be.

Being alone with a man you do not know goes against everything you were taught growing up. You, however, are not exactly spoiled for choice where company is concerned and are in no position to bite the hand willing to feed you. Especially when the hand in question hasn’t done anything untoward.

John provides security and stability, even if he fusses at you incessantly.

“Need to be eating more than that.”

Objectively you know he’s correct, but there’s fuck all to be done about it.

“I can’t. I’ll throw up.”

You learn the nausea card will stay his hand, not that you’re even overplaying it. The child you’re carrying likes to alternate between sitting on your bladder and your stomach between bouts of playing soccer with your ribcage. Not exactly making it easy on you to get (or keep down) the food you need to grow a liver or a pair of lungs, or whatever it is that you’re cooking in the final stretch of your pregnancy.

For the most part he leaves you be about the food if he sees you picking at something over the duration of the day.

You circle each other cautiously; circumstance and loneliness making you unwilling to avoid him, but also still having the good sense to be aware you’re dealing with a stranger for less than a full day.

He’s brash, obviously used to getting his way. You don’t know a ton about the military and can only assume that it comes with the territory. He’s used to barking orders and commanding a space. You’re not exactly in a position to buck against his hand- and it’s not like you really want to, anyway.

He gives you first pick of the food, your cravings deciding your meal for you.

Cravings in an apocalypse blow, by the way. It’s not like you can get the tandoori chicken from your favorite Indian place at 2 am just because the mood strikes.

“I would kill for a jar of pepperoncinis,” you mumble, mostly to yourself one night as you pick at your dinner. God you could fuck a jar of them up with how your mouth is watering just at the thought of them.

In fact, had the world not gone to hell in a handbasket you’d probably be doing something cruel and inhumane to a pile of them. Like dipping them into nutella. Wasn’t one of the joys of pregnancy appeasing your cravings with absolutely abominable food combinations?

You’re not exactly in fight or flight at this exact moment, but you are in survival mode. No luxury of door dashing random items.

“How much longer do you think you’ve got?” The captain asks one night over dinner.

“I’m not sure. I think any day now at this point.”

You feel like you’re all belly, something that’s compounded by his follow up question of “Only got the one in there?” which is honestly fair.

“Yes. The midwife said he just has an Olympic sized swimming pool to float around in.”

“Midwife would be handy to have given your state.”

The question is buried between the lines. Why are you here and not with her?

“She’s dead.”

That’s what started this whole mess, isn’t it? It’s not your fault she’s dead but her absence was the catalyst of your group abandoning you.

He pauses his own meal, looking at you momentarily. “Sorry to hear that.”

You don’t know what to say in reply.

It feels disingenuous to pretend her death impacted you more than it actually did. While you two had spent more time together as your pregnancy progressed, the conversations had stayed staunchly about the baby and changes to your body.

You weren’t friends. But she was kind and compassionate and seemed knowledgeable about what was happening to you.

It does make you nervous, though. Women have had babies unassisted for millenium, but women have also died in childbirth since the dawn of time. Certain cultures regarded a successful birth in the same vein as warriors returning home from battle.

Since he asked- in a roundabout way- about your group, you feel bold enough to ask about his.

“How’d you get separated from your group?”

“Got caught with our trousers down by a herd wandering through this area. We were overwhelmed and I ended up going through a window. Did a number on my leg, that seems to finally be healing.”

Herds is such a funny way to describe a roaming group of the undead.

Herds usually contain deer, or horses, or sheep. Something soft and doe eyed that you can pet. Something that has teeth, yes, but typically not interested in hurting you.

Packs would be the better descriptor in your opinion- but then no one had asked you, had they?

“Do you think they’re still in the area?”

“Not if they’ve got any fucking sense,” he grouses. “There’s a group of survivors up north we’ve been taking care of. Safe zone so to speak- about as safe as anything can be, at least. Came down for supplies as the area looked clear, but the truck broke down. Herd came through and mucked everything up.”

The prospect of another community- a safe zone- enraptures you.

You’re not stupid, even if a lapse of judgment and a too long dry spell breaking has landed you in your current predicament. You understand that you’re a bit of a ticking time bomb.

You live in a world where safety is no longer a guarantee. That too much noise, and too much attention drawn can be a death sentence.

So having a baby is a far riskier move these days than it was in the past. There’s so much that can go wrong. You can’t tell a baby to be quiet because a herd is passing through and if any of them hear, then you’ve signed everyone’s death warrant.

And that’s if you and your child don’t die in labor.

So you were understandably devastated but yielded to the group consensus to leave you behind.

But a safe zone?

You’ve been floating around in limbo since parting from your group. Understanding that your death is written on the walls, but unwilling to lay down and die without trying.

You feel something akin to hope fluttering in your belly- that maybe you and your child will survive. That there’s not a blade waiting to descend on you when your water breaks.

“Can you take me there? Are you trying to go back?”

John regards you for a moment, and you try to not squirm in apprehension.

“Would be a whole lot easier if I had a working vehicle,” he states. “Between my leg and your,” he pauses, spearing a bite of his food and making a vague gesture at you as he chews, “current condition, walking that far isn’t a good idea.”

Right. Because you’re a ticking time bomb who might pop in the next hour, next week, or next day and there’s absolutely no way to know until it happens. Hence why you were trolling through a neighborhood looking for somewhere safe to bed down until you have your baby.

Talk about caught with your pants down if your water breaks trying to traverse a substantial distance. But then traveling with a newborn puts another target on your back, doesn’t it? How long until you’re comfortable with how fussy your baby is and you become confident you can read his cues? That’s a hell of a dice to roll.

“If I can find a working radio I can call my team. Or something I can drive.”

“I’m good with tech,” you volunteer. “Even if the radio doesn’t work- maybe I can make it work.”

You’ve always been someone who takes pride in your work, but working in tech in a post-collapse society has rendered your knowledge useless when traveling with a nomadic group just trying to make things work day by day.

So you’ve been feeling like a bit of a lame duck lately, even though you know logically that’s not being particularly fair to your circumstances. You’ve been forced to learn more pragmatic skills (at least, for the zombie apocalypse) but having to learn them on the fly with threats constantly looming over you doesn’t exactly provide a safe place to fail while you get over a learning curve.

Obviously close combat isn’t ideal in your situation. Guns draw too much attention with the noise. Maybe you can find a bow and practice with it.

So you jump at the opportunity to show that you might be able to pull your own weight. That you’re more than a fragile time bomb waiting for the counter to hit zero.

“I’ll keep that in mind if I find a broken one, then,” he appeases, although you can’t get enough of a read on him to know if he’s just placating you.

It’s a bit after dinner and the sun setting that John decides it’s time to herd you up to bed. “Right then, time to get you back upstairs.”

It’s only been two days now but it doesn’t take a genius to realize he’s got a thing about you and the stairs.

Someone like him is likely used to preparing for the worst case scenario in every situation. Lord knows what sort of horrors he’s thought up of you losing your balance going up or down, but he’d chewed on you pretty good earlier in the day when you’d tried to go up them without him to get something out of your bag.

Lesson learned- no traversing the stairs unattended.

Given that you are perpetually exhausted at this point, you can’t see the value in arguing that you don’t need your sleep schedule dictated to you. Left to your own devices you likely would have begun nodding off on the couch.

Even with your group, while there’d be assigned watch times, there wasn’t an enforced bedtime. Everyone’s adults- you were expected to handle your shit and be ready to move when it’s time to go.

So you nod along and let him guide you up.

John is magnanimous about the resources in the house, letting you be uncontested for the bathroom upstairs. You don’t understand how plumbing works but you can’t even bring yourself to complain about the cold water as you clean yourself.

There is a chair in “your” room, and the first night you placed it under the doorknob so that should John get any suspicious ideas, at least you’d be awake for your grizzy demise.

The doorknob never so much as turned, and you’ve been at his mercy long enough you decide if he was going to do anything unhinged, he’d have done it by now.

You are snuggled into your bed- which might as well be a luxurious thing with a 600 thread count for all you can care right now, even though it’s most assuredly not- and hear the sound of John’s door closing across the hall, and are out like a light before you can even process the noise and assume that he’s down for the count for tonight just like you are.

Come morning- after you’re finished in the bathroom and are greeted in the hall by John waiting for you- you realize that John was not squirreled away in his own room last night. He leads you down the stairs- insists on being between you and the bottom of the stairwell.

There’s a jar of pepperoncini peppers, a container of prenatal vitamins, and a pack of preggie pops which claims to be a pregnancy safe anti nausea candy.

The logical side of your brain should be floored that this veritable stranger has paid more attention to your needs (and yes you’re going to go ahead and count the pepperoncinis down as a need) in a day and a half than certain exes had during the entire run of your relationships with them.

A thank you would be appropriate given the situation.

Unfortunately, however, your hormone addled “I've been fending for myself after being abandoned, and I'm still emotionally fried” brain has been the one calling the shots lately, so instead what comes out is “You left me last night.”

[felikatze]

I'm obsessed with your shrek au. Can I ask for some more chrobin details from it-

(grima and rkc if its possible as well-)

i HAVE in fact answered stuff abt grima and rkc in a previous ask about this AU. (the fic referred to in that one is "if the prince is a dragon and the prince is a dragon and the princess is a dragon-" btw, which is the proto shrek au fic)

most details would come up in the fic itself but they really follow the shrek/fiona convention here. both of them loathe themselves as "monsters" but think the other one is pretty nifty so they for sure have that moment where fiona exposits her self doubts to donkey and shrek overhears it and feels bad where robin tells lissa shit and chrom hears it and feels bad

chrom in this AU is very very much a sopping wet cat of a man. he has been ALONE for three whole years with just his self doubts for company and it would have been more had owain not spooked him into leaving the swamp. this is how owain saved the timeline, by the way. by being a dumbass. peak butterfly effect.

i have INTENSE thoughts abt chrom/grima og timeline shit in this. in the og timeline, chrom never packs up n tries to leave, so he never meets lissa, so he stays in the swamp for several more years and gets progressively worse. in the meantime, robin got saved from the tower by somebody else, and did actually marry gangrel. some years later, gangrel disappeared under "mysterious circumstances" and robin ran off, eventually finding his way to the swamp.

THIS GOT LONG. the og timeline will either not come up much or only come up IF i actually pull thru all the way to shrek 2 so. here it is.

so this version of robin had basically no agency in any aspect of his life, and this chrom is desparate for literally anybody to stay by his side. they compliment each other in the worst possible way in the og timeline. robin is possessive. chrom wants to be possessed. it works. bad.

then, of course, validar has to fuck shit up. with the heart of grima out there in the world, he's gearing up to actually awaken his god. as per awakening, he drags robin back to plegia by force (chrom in tow.) i'm not certain whether to include the fire emblem in this AU, but there's really no reason for it. there's no reason to kill Emm either.

After Robin left the tower, nowi (taking the place of the dragon), also eventually left. when she was terrorizing the ylissean countryside, she met lissa, the first person to keep up with her. the two had a proper normal romance of well-adjusted dragon people. at some point, nowi convinces lissa to go back to ylisse, and emm accepts her chicken sister with open arms.

the two never find chrom. they dont know what happened to him. they can only speculate that he turned into a dragon the same way lissa did, but they never know for sure.

so, robin awakens to grima (aka The Curse) and in the kerfluffle both validar and chrom beef it. chrom is promptly resurrected as our dear rkc. lucina and morgan would be still kids at this point.

this AU's version of lucina is actually very fun for me because she did spend a good few years actually raised by grima and has a lot of his theatrics. you get to see that in chapter 3. she has an overall minor role in the fic itself but she's there and i love her.

at some point, lucina realizes that her parents are kind of fucked up, and that her dads are destroying the entire plegian peninsula, and they'll probably move on to ylisse at some point, so she heads east. she's accepted with open arms into the royal family cuz she has The Brand so they know she's chrom's kid.

she also has like. four eyes. demon horns. black wings. some scales. she is also a Dragon Creature the same way chrom and robin are in this. it explains a lot for the ylisse family.

it ends up being a dragon brawl of robin and chrom vs lissa and nowi and it is Disastrous. lots of legendary heroes trying to intervene. nobody's ever heard of dragon on dragon combat before. that's not supposed to happen.

long story short, lucina teams up with owain to hop back in time, though how to fix everything is a much more difficult question than in canon.

lucina's parents have been a total mess ever since she could remember, and owain never met them at all, so.

instead, lucina devoted herself to creating as many happily ever afters as possible (to parallel grima being the fairy godmother in this), while sending owain on fetch quests to locate her parents. she has a rough plan backed up by future knowledge and the seer powers assigned to her by the universe for her dope fucking appearance.

(god i wish i could draw her and chrom but chocobo lissa is all i can manage)

yah. so. that's the og timeline in a nutshell. the most toxic chrobin ever.

meanwhile awakening shrek timeline chrobin meet way earlier before they hit their depression arcs and manage to hash out their insecurities and fall head over heels in normal love. it all happens way earlier than both lucina and grima planned. what the fuck do you mean they're already happily married. nobody accounted for this.

my pal anakha summarized this as "the giant evil dragon got laid way before things got bad and this fixed the problem" which is. accurate.

[schrijverr]

I Dig You 6

Chapter 6 out of 8

Robin is tentatively excited for her first internship: an archaeological dig in the Netherlands, where she has been studying. However, when she gets there, Steve is there too. The dick of their uni that she now has to work with. Great. But being stuck digging for six weeks makes people bond and maybe he isn’t too bad. Maybe he can be her friend.

AKA an archaeology interns, modern, enemies-to-friends stobin au

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

Chapter 6: Town

Steve vetoes the bikes, claiming that if they want the true wandering experience, they’ll have to use their legs. It’s a jock statement, but Robin goes along with it for the vibes, grouching that the next time they have an adventure, they’re using bikes.

It’s not until Steve laughs: “Okay, Robs, next time we’ll bike,” that she realizes how presumptuous that was, though Steve doesn’t seem to mind, which relaxes her a little.

The camping is not too far, but also not too close to town, so they have to walk over a country road there. A country road here basically means no sidewalk, bike lanes on both sides and cars that drive a little too fast than is legally allowed. So, they’re walking in the ditch.

Robin keeps her head to the ground, a habit she has developed as an archaeologist, unable to stop herself from looking for finds. Steve seems to suffer from a similar predicament, since they nearly get hit by an angry biker when he spots a cool rock and goes to grab it.

Neither of them know what the man yells at them as he swerves, but they giggle about it when the shock wears off. Then Robin agrees with Steve that the rock is very cool and totally worth becoming roadkill over.

There are a lot of corn fields around, however, there are also cows, which Robin forces them to stop at, because she fucking loves cows. In her humble opinion, they are the coolest.

Steve sighs as they look over the grazing cows and says: “I miss home sometimes, even though it kinda sucked.”

“Yeah?” Robin asks, unsure if she is capable of having this conversation. “Had a lot of cows?”

“God yeah, cows and God that’s all we have there,” Steve laughs. “Truly fucking Bumfuck, America, you know?”

“Not really, didn’t grow up religious. We had a petting zoo we went to each year in primary school,” Robin says. “The pigs were huge, one girl nearly got crushed once. It was brutal.”

Steve snorts loudly at that and shakes his head fondly. “Pigs are mean bastards. They know malice. Cows don’t.”

“I know right!” Robin agrees excitedly. “Cows are unable to form thoughts and that makes them the best.”

“I like chickens more,” Steve says.

“Blasphemy,” Robin exclaims, clutching non-existent pearls, which makes Steve laugh again.

“Chickens are evil and stupid, which is the best combination for any animal, who can’t easily do a lot of damage. Like a cat. Forcefully contained rage.”

“That only makes them more scary,” Robin argues.

“No, that makes them perfect,” Steve rebuts.

“You’re a weirdo, Harrington,” Robin informs him. “I’ll keep an eye out for chickens on this road to hell you have us on.”

“It’s like a half an hour walk to town, you drama queen,” Steve says.

“That’s twenty-five minutes too long,” Robin replies, deliberately dramatic as they continue on, leaving the cows behind.

They don’t see any chickens, but they do see more corn and a lot more horses than should be reasonable for the town size. The two of them can agree that horses are just evil and cannot be trusted.

The town itself exists of a likely population of about 4.000 people and has two churches, one protestant and one catholic. There is one big road with local stores that is connected to the one square in town.

The square is also the place that holds the Albert Heijn, which they are more familiar with. Robin has noticed that there were a few places to eat there, but Steve insists they eat somewhere else than the one place they already know.

However, one look at Google Maps informs them that unless they plan to walk far out of town on the opposite side to the camping they’re staying on, there isn’t another place they can eat.

“We can go to the fries place and get to go,” Robin offers as a compromise when Steve starts to frown, obviously having his mind set on it.

“Yeah, that can work,” Steve says, brightening at her solution. “We should first pick where to eat it, so our food won’t get cold.”

“What happened to wandering?” Robin asks. “Isn’t a lack of planning part of wandering?”

“I didn’t say wandering, I said adventure. You can plan in an adventure. Plus, cold fries are disgusting,” Steve retorts, wrinkling his nose.

Robin is pretty sure the word ‘wander’ was used in Steve’s pitch, but she also doesn’t like cold fries and it was more to tease anyway, so she gives in pretty easily and zooms in on a random green spot on the map, declaring: “That place looks pretty good.”

“Then that place it is,” Steve declares.

Together they go over to the fries place where it becomes clear that the owner has never needed to speak a word of English in his life. He’s old with a red nose and a smoker’s voice, loudly talking with customers, who are likely regulars, since tourism doesn’t exist this far out.

He greets the two jovially when they enter and Robin knows a bit of Dutch, but this guy has the heaviest accent she has ever heard, though while she can guess that he likely asked what they wanted to order and some comment about the day, the weather or them, she has no clue what he actually said.

Steve gives him an apologetic smile, thankfully speaking for both of them as he says in a broken accent: “Ik spreek slecht Nederlands.”

The guy frowns and replies: “Wa’ zedde nou? Waar komme ge dan vandaan?”

“What?” Steve asks.

“Wat. Jij. Hier. Doen?” the guy asks.

“Oh, internships. Uhm, stage?” Steve answers.

One of the other guy yells something and the man behind the counter laughs as he replies. Robin is feeling a lot like a two headed sheep in a cabinet of curiosity, so she anxiously hovers behind Steve like some sort of shadow monster, content to not be a part of the interaction.

Steve gets the man’s attention again, before the whole local population can become a part of the conversation and add their two cents while they stand there awkwardly. “Kannen wij eten krijgen- kopen?”

“Ja, zegge maar wa’ ge wilt,” the guys says, before realizing he’s being incomprehensible for them again. He corrects himself with: “Oh, ik bedoel. Wat wil jij eten?” talking slowly, loudly and

“Twee keer friet,” Steve says then turns to Robin asking: “What snack do you want and do you want a sauce?”

“No sauce,” Robin says, they primarily offer mayo with fries here and she doesn’t like it. “And chicken nuggets if they have them.”

“Alrighty,” Steve says, then turns back to the guy adding: “One- een met mayo, een met niks. Een keer bitterballen and een keer kipnuggets?”

“Ik heb ‘t, ‘n keer friet, ‘n keer frietje met, bitterballen en kipnuggets,” the guy repeats. “Kom eraan. Hebbie contant of pinnen?”

Robin has no clue what the guy is saying and she can see that Steve doesn’t either. However, the last part they understand; money. Steve holds up his card and repeats: “Pinnen.”

“Ga je gang,” the man says, gesturing to the little machine on the counter.

Steve holds his card up to it and it beeps, Robin doesn’t think that either of them knows how much he has paid until the man hands him the receipt and tells them something that likely means wait, since he naturally can’t magically have their food already.

What follows next are a few of the most awkward minutes of Robin’s life as the local population tries to talk to these new curiosities (namely them), while neither of them really speak each other’s language.

Robin has never been good at this and all of her language knowledge is from books and Duolingo, who didn’t have accents. She can make out one word out of every ten.

Steve, however, seems more at ease under the scrutiny, trying to talk with his hands and feet as much as he can to have some semblance of communication while they wait. He also seems to have a good enough grasp on the language to catch more than Robin does, something that surprises her, despite having noted it before. She wonders what that is about.

Then the guy calls out to them, yelling: “Oi, toeristen, eten!” two words Robin does understand, because they’re pretty simple, tourists and food, pretty good description, if she’s honest.

They go to get their food and the guy waves at them as they leave. They say goodbye and get a: “Houdoe!” back, a locality Robin guesses, since it’s completely unfamiliar.

The town isn’t big, so the park isn’t far despite not being near the square, relatively speaking. So, they make their way down the back street, looking at the shops there. There is naturally a hairdresser, a few bigger brand stores as well as some local ones. There is a fancier looking restaurant with a coffeeshop next to it and a doctor’s office next to that.

Robin can’t help but point it out to Steve, saying: “Look, you can eat, get high, make a dumb decision and then go to the doctor for it.”

Steve follows her finger and snorts: “Don’t remind me. Do you know how long it took me before I realized coffeeshops don’t sell coffee?”

That makes Robin laugh, she herself never went out looking for weed – it isn’t her thing and she doesn’t want to do it alone, so she never did. She learned what coffeeshops here meant, because a fellow student shared an awkward experience of trying to order coffee at one of them.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Steve squawks, though he’s laughing too. “I asked a very nice looking old lady about where to find a coffeeshop and she looked scandalized. I got a whole lecture and a bible from her. I don’t even know why she carried a bible with her.”

His explanation only makes Robin laugh more and she calls him a dingus. It’s nice to joke around with someone and she suddenly remembers the sad thoughts she had actually managed to forget for a second.

In an attempt to banish them as quickly as they came, she asks: “Did you ever smoke weed?”

“A few times with Tommy, but the charm wore off after a while. He gets familiar when high and it’s uncomfortable,” Steve says, wrinkling his nose.

Robin has the distinct displeasure of meeting Tommy a few times – though mostly seeing him from a distance – so she can imagine. “That sucks,” she sympathizes, because getting unwanted attention sucks. As a lesbian she kinda knows about that.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, though with a shrug, like it wasn’t that big a deal. Robin doesn’t want to pry and isn’t sure how to ask about it, so she stays quiet. Steve breaks the quiet by asking: “And what about you? Ever smoked?”

“Nah, that’s bad for you, like with your lungs. If you develop a more permanent cough, you can see that on your ribs and that’s for forever,” Robin says, sounding anxious about it. She has always been someone who thinks of the worst case scenarios.

“Valid. Pot brownies are way nicer anyways. And pot cookies. Julia makes great ones, she got the recipe from her grandma apparently,” Steve says.

“Her grandma?” Robin repeats incredulously.

“Yeah, she says that her grandma was a hippie, used weed before it was even legal here,” Steve tells her.

“That is wild.”

“I know right,” Steve agrees. “But that is a no to buying weed?”

“No, unless they sell cookies. They don’t sell those, do they?” Robin asks, sounding horribly naive to her own ears, though Steve isn’t a judgmental person. If it hadn’t been him, she’d have faked her way through this whole conversation.

“Nah, though there is a bakery thingy that does, I think. I haven’t really looked into it,” Steve shrugs. “I think we have to go left up there.”

“Alright,” Robin says, trusting him blindly. He hasn’t gotten them lost so far. “So, what are bitterballen anyway?” she asks.

“You haven’t had one? How long have you been here? They’re on every terrace!” Steve exclaims, practically scandalized.

“Do I look like I go to terraces?” Robin shoots back, not even ashamed about it to get her dunk in.

“Fair enough,” Steve says, though it’s not mean. “I just can’t believe it. They’re so good. Want to try one?”

“First tell me what the fuck they are, dingus,” Robin says, it’s easier to ask that knowing that Steve is a picky eater too.

“It’s basically a croquette, but then a little ball. So a ball of shredded meat in bread crumbs that’s fried,” Steve explains. “I was skeptical about them, but they’re very nice.”

“I might try one,” Robin says tentatively.

“Yay,” Steve cheers as they round yet another corner, finally arriving to their destination.

The green spot on the map turns out to be a playground. It has two soccer goals, a seesaw, slide merry-go-round and a couple of swings as well as picnic table and a zip line.

Spotting the goals, Robin says: “I played soccer as a kid. We had this goalie on the team, Beth Wildfire, this other girl slid into her leg and the bone came out of her knee. Six inches or something. It was insane.”

“Jikes,” Steve winces. “No soccer for you.”

“It wasn’t me!” Robin protests, following Steve to the picnic tables and taking a seat across from him. “I was totally fine. I never played much anyway, I was always too busy with the flowers that bloomed on the field. My mom hoped I’d be a star player, but my dad loved that I was a free spirit in tune with nature, but I stopped soccer anyway. Wasn’t for me. Especially when we got older, at some point the changing room becomes more uncomfortable.”

“That sucks,” Steve sympathizes and this time it is her turn to shrug. It did kind of suck, but she got used to being hyper-aware when changing with other girls around. Life of a lesbian, you know?

They pull out their fries and attack, both of them hungry after the day of manual labor. Robin wrinkles her nose at the mayo on Steve’s fries, they’re absolutely lathered in it and she doesn’t know how he’s not gagging.

It’s the fact that he’s willingly eating that, that makes her cautious about the bitterbal he offers for her to try.

However, in the end she is curious and they look harmless. She doesn’t mind fried stuff, nor bread crumbs and the inside doesn’t look slimy, which are all wins. So, she trades a chicken nugget for a bitterbal and is pleasantly surprised that it is good, like Steve had claimed.

“I don’t lie,” he says smugly when she informs him of that.

“Don’t get a big head, Harrington. Your hair is too big already, if it gets any bigger to match your new big head, you’d be ridiculous,” Robin snarks.

“My hair is perfect,” Steve pouts, running his hand through it.

“Yeah, unnecessarily perfect. We’re digging all day, I don’t know how it’s not a sweaty mess at the end of every day,” Robin complains.

“It’s because it’s full of secrets,” Steve tells her with a smirk.

“Was that Mean Girls? Did you just quote Mean Girls at me?” Robin asks, disbelieving.

“What? Like it’s hard,” Steve smirks back.

“And that’s Legally Blonde!” Robin exclaims.

“Robin, I fucking love teen girl movies, how have you not realized this?” Steve asks.

“Because you’re continuously surrounded by assholes like Tommy, who wears toxic masculinity like it’s some sort of battle armor a girls like Carol, who would unironically say that a man telling her ‘I love you’ is gay, or a priss like Nancy,” Robin explodes, because she doesn’t know how else to express feeling guilty for all the assumptions she made.

“I’ve kind of stopped hanging around most of them,” Steve shrugs. “But that is a recent development. Those movies were kinda guilty pleasures, but I’m starting to embrace them.”

“As you should, they’re masterpieces,” Robin says. “And it’s kinda not my place and I didn’t know them, but good for you for stopping hanging out with them. They always looked mean and not very good friends.”

“They weren’t, just all I had, until I got here,” Steve shrugs, popping a fry into his mouth. Then he randomly asks: “Wanna go of the zip line with me when you’re done?”

“Of course I wanna go of the zip line, who do you take me for? Someone who doesn’t know how to have fun?” Robin replies immediately.

Steve lights up and he looks a little surprised, like he’d expected her to shut him down. Robin doesn’t get what about her made him think she wouldn’t want to, but then again, a lot of people shoot down her ideas, even when they’re good and not weird, so she gets it too.

“Hell yeah,” he cheers and starts eating quicker, something Robin mirrors immediately, now also excited for the zip line. Maybe they can see how high they go. She hasn’t been on a swing in forever.

~~

A/N:

Cows and chickens are my two favorite animals. I fucking love farm animals (but that may be due to the fact that I love farming, lmao (no im not really a farmer I just study it and grew up around it))

I put a lot of work into writing the fries guy’s accent, even though a lot of people reading this don’t even speak Dutch, so wouldn’t even notice if it was normal Dutch, but I am a perfectionist weirdo like that xp

Personally, I don’t fuck with drugs (which is also why I won’t be embarrassing myself in an attempt to write them being high lmao), but my sister does and she indeed has the recipe for weed cookies from my grandma, shout out <3

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 4.3

I think my main takeaway from the first part of this chapter is that other people lead very different lives from me. I mean, I don't doubt that teenage parties where everyone is making out and drinking and getting stoned exist, but I've literally never heard of one. Even in college we just sat around and ate chicken nuggets and watched bad anime.

This was scary.  It was scary in the same way John in that abandoned house had been scary.  A person as a force of nature, angry and violent and detached from humanity enough that he was willing to hurt her.  Smoke rolled out around her.

The John thing was scary to me partially because it was more mundane. Not a curse or magic taking effect, just physical violence that is supernaturally hard to fight. Also a good reminder that without tools and preparations, none of them are really capable of fighting against an above-average person.

Avery’s eyes flashed, the mist sweeping over them, in a way that made the outline and darkness of the irises stand out in even dimly lit gloom.  Verona’s eyes turned purple.

I really like the different ways people's Sight manifests.

“I might’ve lied to my mom.  Tanked my karma, tanked the connection breaking stuff I laid on my bag.”

did not catch this, going back to look at the chapter to see what it could have been.

ah.

“Love you!” her mom called out, as Verona climbed out. “Yeah. You too,” Verona replied, giving her mom a tight smile, before closing the door.

fuck.

Verona turned a wide eyed look to Lucy, like she’d been stung.  Wary, alarmed. Verona winced, and nodded.

This chapter is really highlighting how much Verona cues off of Lucy's emotional state.

This Faerie duel thing is very neat. Not sure how I feel about how much time Lucy's been spending with Guilhelme, but I love the whole thing (drawing out the weapon, naming terms, building an arena, making a formal challenge) too much to be appropriately wary.

“We should take her to see Nicolette,” Avery said, from the far end of the fading arena.

Part of the Kennet Trio's whole deal is being more concerned with the people in their jurisdiction (and beyond) than I think the average practitioner is. With Nicolette, it's clear she didn't mean to cause harm to bystanders with her spying, but also clear that she didn't think about the unintended consequences of her actions.

And when you didn’t need us as much, with keen talent for practice, aggressive outreach to other practitioners, and a knack for investigation…

They are very good at this!

I would say you’re getting your own control. And to some, even myself to a small degree, that feels like you’re sliding into a position where you have control over us.

Basically what I was saying a bit ago, that a lot of the Others of Kennet would have preferred puppet practitioners, even if they weren't as useful.

“Miss noted him, as one of five or six considerations, to replace you three if you couldn’t see this through.”

man were they just going to work through the entire middle school. Fucked up that the backup considerations were also kids. Looks like "controllable" was an important qualification. I wonder who the others were? There's a few other classes to draw on, but based on the characters we've met, and that "outsider" seems to be important, I'd guess Pam and Gabe?

“I want you to say what you’re feeling because you look mad and I can’t take it.”

oh big mood. Just get it over with instead of letting the tension sit

I wonder if part of the reason this is hitting Verona so hard is that Lucy is maybe the only person whose good opinion she really cares about? I mean, she likes Avery, she gets along with various Others and wants to learn well, but we don't see her looking for approval from any adults/authority figures. I think in a lot of ways Lucy is who Verona bases her sense of morality and responsibility off of.

“I don’t want you to deal, I want you to be happy and good.  Talk, vent.  Hurt me if it means getting it off your chest.  Please.”

Mixed feelings on this one. On the hand, there's "You don't have to hold back your own emotions to protect my feelings". On the other, there's "Hurt me for my mistakes if it will make you feel better". Not really sure which one this is. Don't think Verona knows either.

“I wanted to get the stuff back and get back to normal because I wanted you to be able to go back to that cabin where you were with Wallace and Mia and the others, and kiss a boy and make other friends because that’s what I really wanted out of tonight,” Verona said.

oh. 🥹

Verona’s sandals were strappy, and it looked like the edges of the straps had rubbed Verona’s feet raw, to the point there was blood. All that running around. Trying to fix things.

oh

So. I don't think I could pick between the three girls. But as of now, Lucy and Verona's friendship is winning as my favorite.

[marshiestars]

Tag 9 People You Want To Get To Know Better

thank you @scrawnytreedemon for tagging!! let’s begin, shall we? :3c

Three Ships: ughhhhh this is real hard because I JUST invented the most horrible, wonderful “why does it work” crackship a few weeks ago, but if I want to include it, I have to ignore one of my three big zelda ships :C

1. Ghiralink. because of course. I feel like it’s illegal to leave this one out or put it any lower. it’s the good food. it’s well-established. I can afford to be picky with my content. it’s great :D

2. Astlink! sorry Kohlink, but Astlink is less likely to scare half my audience away 😔.

tbh I’m still VERY surprised that Astor and Link aren’t paired together nearly as often as Zelast (Astor / Zelda). don’t get me wrong, both are rare pairs, but somehow Astlink is even *rarer* shksjhdjhsshs, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why. either way, it's 'moody goth bitch rejected by society (or maybe he rejected society first, it's a chicken or egg situation tbh) with the perfect golden person that everyone admires who secretly has their own issues'!! and it's about how they're on the complete opposite sides of this huge conflict and yet they find unexpected parallels in each other! and having everything fall apart but deciding to be a better person, even when the rest of the world says it's too late, because that one person believes in you and is willing to give you a chance! darkness and light! it's GOOD FOOD

(...man, I really gotta finish chapter 3 of swordsman and the seer.)

3. ...fuck it. scrawny, I hereby challenge you for the title of Weirdest Fucking Crossover Ship. Ghirahim x Godrick? Sephiroth x the Hollow Knight? I'm intrigued, but not crumbling to ash at the thought.

and so I give you this in place of gushing about Kohlink, which is unbelievably rare, but damn it, at least they're from the same source material! besides, I wasn't the first person to pair them by a long shot, no, no, no.

but there’s a special, lonely sort of pride in knowing you’re probably the first of 8 billion people in the world to ever even think of a pairing. ready? here it is:

R*x D*ng*rv*st x S*np*i from FNF.

(censored their names like that because if this shows up in the tags I’m gonna jump out a window)

yeah, man. I don't even know either.

I mean, I do know, somewhere, and my original train of thought is buried in the memory slush of a few months ago, gone forever. so now we're here. fuck. kill me. why am I writing shit for these two. girl what the hell is this

everyone who reads this post, I want a brick emoji in my inbox to simulate getting one through my window

First Ever Ship: ANYWAY, fuck, I don’t even remember at this point, I've been in greater fandom for so long. wait... oh, son of a bitch, nevermind, I do.

*sigh*

it was Billdip.

DO NOT COME AFTER ME, I DON’T SHIP IT ANYMORE. haven’t for years. I was 12. but I loved Bill Cipher (still do, he's my funny meow meow blorbo <3) and was very upset when the finale happened even though I knew that was how it had to be. but every time Billdip art came across my screen, I saw cool art where he: # 1. was still around and # 2. was more often than not a pretty human / humanoid (this was at the height of his sexymanification). hell, I didn't even give a shit about Dipper honestly, I just wanted more Bill content. and again, being literally 12, I didn’t really stop to think abt any moral implications. but yeah.

(also nowadays I hc Bill as ace sooo)

Last Song: 'She Had The World' by Panic! very nice to sing to, it's right in my range <3

Last Movie: does ‘My Little Pony: A Very Minty Christmas’ count? it’s a childhood film and practically tradition for me to watch it every year for christmas lol. although this year I’ve been replaying it for... research purposes. yeah. totally not for a lethally cursed fanfic, no sir.

if that doesn’t count, then ‘The Lego Movie’!

Currently Reading: nothing atm!! even as my 'to read' pile gets taller by the day, hhhh

Currently Watching: Minty Christmas, again, but definitely not so I can copy the dialogue verbatim to use as the base for a coked-up christmas crack fic

Currently Consuming: soup <3

Currently Craving: instant ramen, good god, especially if it’s spicy. they have cups for sale in vending machines around campus but they’re all beef and chicken flavour :C

I won't tag anyone else in this because nine people is a lot; far too many to bother with this wall of personal nonsense shdhdj but thanks anyway for tagging me scrawny, my beloved mutual!!! <3

[glaivenoct]

( fanfic writer ask game ) ✏️ , 🎧 , 🔬 , ✍🏽 , 🌾 ?

Thank you so much for sending some in! ;u; (Fanfic Writer Asks Here)

✏️ The first fanfiction you ever wrote? (doesn’t have to be a posted fic)

Heh.. back in 2005, a show aired on Discovery Kids that became my favorite show in the history of ever. Wee 9 year old Brina did not understand or even know of the concept of Fandom or Fanfiction - but this show is what I consider my first Fandom ever.

Did any fellow millennials ever watch Flight 29 Down on Discovery Kids (2005-2007)? Man, I loved that show so fucking much. I wrote silly little fics for it in my spare spiral college ruled notebooks! AUs before I even know what an AU was lmao. My favorite was one I called "Agents in Action" where I pretended all the characters in the show were recruited as Secret Agents after being rescued lmao.

I also wrote fics for my favorite ship in the show. Again, I didn't really know what the word ship was, but I knew I liked two characters enough to write fics of them getting together and referring to them with a pairing name. I shipped Jackson/Taylor aka Jaylor! Jackson was the Tall-Quiet-Mysterious foster kid with a questionable past and a sense of being an outsider among his peers, and Taylor was the seemingly shallow rich Mean Girl, who turns out not to be as mean or shallow once you get to know her a little more and she learns some more empathy/self-awareness.

When I wrote these fics, I had no idea what fic even was. But man oh man was it such a happy place for me to write them at the time. I wish I still had them, but I don't know where they went. I used to draw pictures at the back of every page and everything. Good times, good times ;u;

🎧 A certain song you listened to while writing a fic?

MUSIC, YAASS. So! Rare is it for me to make a playlist for just a one-shot, but for my NyxNoct Masquerade Fic I really needed a decent chunk of songs that captured the right vibe to help me write it, if ya know what I mean!

Young and Beautiful is the star of that playlist. I not only imagined Nyx and Noct dancing to the song in the fic, but the playlist also features two different instrumental versions of it too! It was such a big help with that fic uwu.

🔬The fic you had to make the most research for?

Hmm.. there's honestly 3 contenders for this, and the Masquerade fic is definitely one of them - but that was research in the sense of looking up a lot of visuals for inspiration. Outfits/ballrooms/mask designs and things like that

The second has to be cagefighter AU because of the fight scenes. I looked up articles about boxing rings/MMA tournaments/different styles of martial arts and things like that. I think I put at some point in the fic that Nyx leans more towards a boxing style while Noct kinda knows a mix of things thanks to Cor. Come the next time I need to write a fight scene, I'll probably be looking up martial arts/self defense videos again. Which is usually fun for me!

The third would have to be my old and Very Incomplete NyxNoct Wings AU that only has one chapter and no proper plot to this day ;u; Researching wing anatomy and all that. Visual references for different wing designs too.

✍🏽 How much do you plan your fics beforehand?

If we're talking about outlines, never have I ever in my fic life done a proper outline ^^; I'm very "I have all the backstory in my head, the rest of the details of the actual plot will unfold as I go" :'D

🌾 A fic you really want to write but you haven’t (yet)?

So Many ;u; but right now, the main things on my radar after I finish the current WIP are: -An assassination attempt prompt that's been sitting in my inbox for too long -A new possibly probably definitely spicy NyxNoct fic ideally for Valentine's Day. Buuut there's a good chance I chicken out of that one and try writing the next chapter of Cagefighter AU instead.

If I add anything else, I'll be getting too ahead of myself and overwhelmed lol. To anyone who's sent me prompts in the last several months: bear with me please I swear. I either get them done sorta quick or... Not Quick.

Thank you again for indulging me with these! ;u; <3

[gutscenes]

mdzs vol. 1 chapter 2: the intractable-- first readthrough thoughts

“He could swear there was not a single wandering ghost in this world who was more decent and honest than he!” I believe you!!! Wei Wuxian NG+ run, nerfed build, unlocked romanceable NPC

I seriously feel for poor Mo Xuanyu, probably more than intended by MXTX lol. I’d be surprised if this wasn’t a common sentiment in the fandom, though. “What kind of hellish life was he fucking living?” indeed. Thank you for dying so that Wei Wuxian can get a second chance, Mo Xuanyu!! (weeps for fictional side character who dies basically page 1)

“If he delayed seeking food any longer, he might just become the first malicious ghost in history to die of hunger immediately after being summoned.” This chapter is full of hysterical lines and this was such a funny detail. WWX was so worried about his unrecovered spiritual power or whatever but it turned out he was just really fucking hungry. Like yeah that’s so real that happens to me every Sunday.

“Truly, out of the mountains a tiger can be bullied by a dog, in shallow waters a dragon can be mocked by a shrimp, and a plucked phoenix is lower than a chicken.” I just love this line.

“Everyone knows I like men. Even if he has no shame, I know not to make myself suspicious…I don’t care if you don’t care about your reputation, but I still care about mine!! I STILL GOTTA FIND A GOOD MAN!!!” Smiling beatifically.

“When it came to outrageous behavior, Wei Wuxian was an expert.” No kidding

I love Jingyi and Sizhui’s dynamic. Sizhui is calm and unfailingly kind, while Jingyi is instantly getting riled up by WWX’s antics. Looking forward to seeing more of these juniors.

“Wei Wuxian had swiftly finished inspecting the spirit-attraction flag. The drawn patterns were correct, and none of the spells were missing either. There were no mistakes, so no mishaps would occur if the flags were used.” He’s a good boy your honor

“This was a good sprout very worthy of encouragement, and Wei Wuxian mentally gave him a nod of approval…Wei Wuxian wondered who among that terrifying group full of uptight sticks-in-the-mud known as the Lan Clan had managed to raise such a junior.” Your future husband

The Supreme Evil Lord gets fucking resurrected and then just instantly starts selflessly trying to save everyone. Like this is your bad guy, cultivation world???? You sure?????

That being said, WWX’s utter control over the most evil of spirits is such a sexy trait like I get it Lan Zhan I really do

aaaand WWX’s gashes heal, revenge fulfilled. Crazy how if Mo Xuanyu stayed alive uhhhhh one more day the trash would’ve taken itself out for him. (Unless I’m mistaken??)

“Wei Wuxian was just about to let loose the whistle he held under his tongue when—right then—two strums from a guqin sounded in the far distance.” Let’s fucking gooooo!

“This time, the note was higher pitched, piercing through the sky like the austere harshness of winter’s first approach.” So lovely, so ethereal. As expected of ice prince Lan Zhan. Also the Seven Seas version has the most beautiful artwork of Lan Wangji and his guqin in this chapter! I wasn’t expecting it!

“Of all people who could have come, it had to be the Lan family; of all people to come, it just had to be Lan Wangji!” Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, etc. (Fleabag voice) This is a love story.

This is going down pretty similarly to how I remember it in The Untamed, except for Wei Wuxian doubling down on the cutsleeve thing, obviously. Eager to see where else things diverge…I'm having a fucking blast WWX is a delight

[paristheonewhoreads]

Little Bunny | Raider!Joel x F!reader

warnings: 18+ only, Dark!joel, dom!joel, age gap (Joel is 46, reader is 19), non-con, daddy kink, virgin!reader, sub!reader, innocents kink, oral sex (f!receiving), just the tip fucking?, thigh fucking??, indirect creampie???, somnophilia, pet names (sweetheart, bunny, peach, princess, etc.) toxic femininity, misogyny, groping, mentions of death, murder, slight gore and talks of needing to move a body. Joel is very talkative (calls us a bitch but idk if that’s a tw), and kinda filthy so be warned lol.

Synopsis: Your father leaves before you wake and in his place Joel is the man of the house. You try to get to know the mysterious stranger though he seems to want to do much more than just talk to you.

A/n: SMUT. (Finally huh?) Please if you are of any age younger than eighteen, DO NOT READ. Also, quick FYI this story takes place about ten years after the outbreak so things are relatively better than they would be if it were twenty years instead. That being said, enjoy!

P.s In my mind I’m writing about game Joel (because to me he’s just…better. No hate to Pedro I love him) having said that, it’s obviously up to you who you imagine when reading :)

Word count: 9.5k 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 (that was an accident)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Chapter Two

The soft mellow breeze of spring flutters into your bedroom as you stir awake. Birds chirping outside welcoming you from your slumber. You sit up in bed with a yawn, and stretch your arms and back out after being curled up all night. It’s not as cold as it was during winter now that spring is here and the sun is a much more constant friend again, so sleeping with your window open is always a treat in the early mornings.

You push your soft pink floral bedsheets aside and slip your feet into your fuzzy slippers. The house is quiet. Strange, your father would be up by now either making breakfast or feeding the chickens out back. Either way, you make your way out of your room and into the kitchen. You stop before going in at your fathers door. Pressing your ear up against it to see if you hear him.

With no sound coming from the other side you decide to give a light knock on the wooden door, “Dad? Are you in there?” you ask just loud enough for him to have heard you on the other side.

There’s no response.

At this your brows furrow slightly, and you go to turn and open the bedroom door.

“He’s not here princess.” a honeyed voice calls behind you.

Turning back, you see Mr.Miller is standing at the end of the hallway, cup of coffee in hand.

“Hope you don’t mind, made myself a cup. Been a long time since I’ve had my morning fix.” he raises the mug up slightly.

You shake your head, “not at all, good morning.” you say anxiously. You don’t know why, but everytime-which haven’t been that many considering you’ve only interacted with him a handful of times, you body spikes in nervousness.

He makes you jittery. That being said it’s honestly a little silly, he doesn’t even speak or do much to make you feel this way. So you try to push that feeling deep down. Ignoring it.

With your hand off the doorknob, and being fully turned to him, you’re brought back to why your out in the hall in the first place.

“You said my fathers not here?” you recall, head tilting slightly, hands meeting at your front as they start to nervously fittle.

He doesn’t answer right away, just takes a look at you up and down. He takes in how you look in the mornings. Your hair is down, cascading down over your shoulders, not as neat as it had been last night, but not at all any less winsome. Your wearing a silk pink nightgown, white lace running along the neckline and helm. It had white bows too, two on either side of where the straps met the neckline and one right where the slit on your thigh began. A semi matching silk robe over it, given the slight chill in the morning air.

Your cute little fuzzy slippers on your feet. You look absolutely ravishing.

Fuck. And she’s only in her fucking pajamas? Joel thought to himself.

He clears his through and nods his head before taking a sip from his mug, “He and his men left at dawn, one of ‘em said they saw another group just west of here. I sent some of my men along with them too.” he explains.

You frown at this, pout prominent. He left? Without saying anything? That’s not like your father, he’d have woken you up or..maybe he left a-

“He wrote you a little something before he left.” Joel pipes up before making his way to you, he passes you by making his way into the living room and picking up a letter left on the coffe table.

He hands it to you, and you immediately feel yourself relax a little as you see his writing on the envelope.

A letter.

Is all it says, he’s never been one for writing. You carefully rip open the paper and pull out the letter, unfolding it.

Dear honey,

I’ll be gone by the time you wake up tomorrow and read this. I’ve been told that there is another group of men out west. Not as big as Joel’s, but they were seen with heavy arms and even a couple of horses. Not all of Joel’s men are in condition to go out there again, Joel included. So he and the ones who can’t will be staying behind to keep an eye on things here. Make sure he feels as welcome as he can. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Might take a couple of days, no more than a week. Take care of yourself and remember to feed the chickens when you wake up.

I’ll love you always,

dad.

You both ease up and tense as you read your thatchers words. His explanation for why he’s left is brief, but still you understand. His final farewell at the end of his note has you smile slightly. You sigh as you finish, putting the letter back in the envelope.

Looking up, you find Joel is still there, eyeing you almost expectingly.

“He give a good reason for why I stayed back?” he surprises you with a sly smile, and a light chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. As if he was the one who was nervous.

You blink at him for a moment, not saying anything before you snap back into it, “he said you were in no condition to go and help.” The sentence, although not intentionally, comes out with a sharp tone.

Joel’s gaze hardens for a moment, jaw clenching, his hands curl into fists at his side. A look of spite flashes across his face, however, as quickly as it appears it vanishes.

“That how you talk to all your guests?” he nags.

Your eyes drop to the floor at his tone. He sounds as if he was your father scolding you. Looking down at the letter in your hands you recall what your father had told you.

“…Make sure he feels as welcome as he can…”

With a defeated sigh, your shoulders slump slightly.

Once again you meet his gaze with your own, “I’m sorry Mr.Miller, I guess I’m just…he’s never left so often in such little time before. And,well, he’s not exactly at his prime anymore…” you trail off.

Why would you even tell him that? He doesn’t care. Much less need to know why you’re being so rude.

His eyes softened at that, “I’m sure your old man will be just fine sweetheart.”

Him calling you sweetheart makes the nest of butterflies in your stomach flutter slightly.

You clear your throat, and that seems to relieve the tension and awkwardness in the room, “Have you had breakfast yet?” you mellow, slippers flip-flopping with each step you take as you make your way to the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

“No.” He says as he leans on the opposite side of the counter, just looking at you, “Not much of a breakfast person. Cup of coffee’s all I really need.”

Trying to be a good hostess you try to persuade him into eating, “well just coffee is no good. Especially since…“ you pause.

Why had Joel stayed behind? He seems perfectly fine. He walks okay, no limp. Doesn’t look bruised or beaten at all. Even looks rather energized from the nights rest he’d gotten.

The unsettling feeling you’d pushed down earlier rises and settles back in you gut as you see he really is in the condition to go out there again.

He gives you a quizzical look, lifting a brow at you. If he had taken it

“um, since you’re not well. My father said you’re not in a good condition.” you try not to let your suspicions glances be obvious as you turn around to rummage through the pantry.

You decide you’ll make eggs with potatoes and sausage. Last harvest the whole town had been quite overwhelmed with how many potatoes were had. So you figured you’d just have to try and sneak them into your meals until the hefty supply in potatoes went down.

“Well I’m starving.” you chirp, trying to change the subject again. Given the ugly look he’d given you in the living room, you didn’t want to grill him for answers just yet.

“How’s about I make us breakfast. Nothing too fancy, but definitely yummy.” You say placing all the ingredients on the counter.

He watches you move around the kitchen pulling out seasonings, pans, plates, all so smoothly. You work your way around, and in Les than thirty minutes you’ve got eggs and sausage cooked and plated. Potatoes still cooking on a pan, the sound of them frying filling the house along with the smell of the sausage.

You place a plate in front of him, handing him a fork and a glass of water.

You yourself sip on a green juice you drink every morning as you stir the potatoes once more.

Joel doesn’t dig in just yet, just observes you as if what you’re doing is so enchanting. Staring at your ass everytime you turn your back to him. He feels himself stiffen in the worn sweats your father had lended him. Trying to distract himself he looks at the clear glass in your hand, “what’s that your drinking?” He asks.

You look from the pan to him, and then to the glass half full in your hand. “Oh, um, this is a green juice I drink in the mornings. It’s supposed to help with digestion and make my skin look healthier.” as you say it, it sounds a little weird.

You’d always taken yourself very seriously in regards to your health. Always making sure you have enough protein and vitamins. Always drinking plenty of water. You suppose it’s because of how you’d lost your mother. She’d given her life to give light to you. Why shouldn’t you take care of yourself?

Maybe a bit dramatic, sure, but really there wasn’t at all anything bad with it. You wouldn’t call yourself high maintenance for your looks, more just your wellbeing.

“Um, you wanna try it?” you ask him after a beat of silence. Offering him the glass he looks at it for a moment, seemingly not really interested in it, but curiosity gets the better of him as he takes the cup from you.

His fingers brush against yours for a split second. You don’t seem to take much notice in it, but fuck if doesn’t feel the spark on his skin when in contact with yours.

You’re just that sweet, aren’t you bunny?

You give him a nod of encouragement to take a sip from the drink. To him you’d just nodded to the question he’d asked you in his head. Christ, if he didn’t want to just pounce on you.

He takes a sip of your mysterious green beverage, it’s not the most delightful think he’s tasted, but also not the most horrible.

“And you say you drink this every..?” he asks you even though he knows what you’d said before. Anything to hear you talk to him.

“Every morning.” You answer with a smile. He takes another sip, tasting it again, before shaking his head, “not for me. Don’t know how you drink that.” He exaggerates.

This makes you laugh, your giggle filling the kitchen. At the sound of your laughter Joel feels his hand twitch. The urge to calm his stuffing cock in his pants. God he needs you. If he doesn’t get his hands on you soon he’ll have to just take you whichever way it fits best.

You move back to the pan, potatoes ready now after one final stir, oblivious of the man across from you’s thoughts. You pick it up and move over to where he’s sitting, giving him two big spoonfuls on his plate before serving yourself some.

“It’s not that bad. Besides they pay off don’t they?” You joke as you gesture to your face, moving your head side to side in order to show off your glowing skin.

Joel admires you as you do so, and even when you go to fork at your food he still doesn’t break his gaze from looking at you.

“Yeah, guess they do.” is all he responds with before he’s digging into his own plate.

Breakfast goes by quickly as you both eat in silence. Once finished Joel excuses himself and wander to his room. You wash up before heading to your bedroom as well. After a nice shower, you change into a white lace babydoll top, some old light wash jean shorts, and your old white converses.You let your hair down so that it can air dry, and put on your gold heart locket.

After almost forgetting to feed the chickens, you go out into the backyard, grabbing a scoop full of dried corn you pour it into a small woven basket. Placing it on your hip, you begin to toss some of it on the ground, the chicks and their mothers rushing to you to get as much as they can.

Once they’ve been fed, you decide to stay outside and enjoy the warm breeze now that it’s noon. You head inside to get a something to read from the book shelf in the living room. You pick a random one you don’t believe you’ve read yet, and as you’re walking back you notice your fathers letter on the coffe table.

You swiftly pick it up and take it to your room. You’ve just finished stuffing it into your other small stack of journals and papers you’ve saved, when you hear a knock on the front door.

Knowing that it couldn’t have been your dad because of the knock itself, you wonder who it could be. Your halfway to the door when there’s another insistant knock.

You open the door to find another man you’ve never met before.

He’s got a raven mane on top his head, with a just as equally dark mustache and thick scuff growing along his jaw. Beauty marks pepper his face, and as you meet his dark eyes, he’s looking back at you with a gaze so deep you could get lost in them.

“Um,” you look around and behind him but he seems to be alone, “Can I help you…” you trail off.

“Tommy. Tommy Miller, a pleasure.” He introduces himself and extends a hand for you to shake. Tommy Miller?

Miller?

“You’re Joel’s..” you wait for him to answer you as you shake his hand. Unlike the other Miller he doesn’t squeeze as hard.

“Brother. I actually came here to speak to him. He in by any chance?” His heavy accent rings.

“Oh, um, yes. Yes he is. Come inside and I’ll go get him.” You push the front door open wider as the miller brother passes you and walks into the living room.

You don’t even need to go and get Joel because he’s already walking down the hall to the two of you. He’s changed into a dark green flannel and some worn jeans, boots heavy on his feet.

“Tommy.” He greets his brother.

You look between the two men, both of whom stand taller than yourself. You do see the similarities, their height, their eyes, thick southern accents, but other than that they’re both completely different from one another.

“Joel.” Tommy nods, “Came to talk to you ‘bout something.” he says with a look you can’t quite place your finger on.

Joel seems to know what it is, shakes his head

then looks to you, “mind given us a moment here princess?” he gestures between him and his brother.

At the pet name Tommy smirks, raising a brow at you. That makes your cheeks flare up, and your skin becomes warm. Joel notices, but his expression doesn’t change.

At the attention on both millers you become flustered, “Um,y-yeah. Sure.” You stammer, as you go to pick up your book. With a small smile you give Tommy in goodbye, you make your way out into the backyard again. You walk over to the swing chair that hangs from the big tree out back. It covers you in shade and you swing slightly on it as you read.

You’re only able to focus on your book for so long. Your mind wandering over to the two men inside. His brother just happened to stay too? I’d of thought he’d had sent him too. Tommy didn’t look mal for wear. If enything it seems the two brother would’ve been in perfect shape to go help your father.

Did Joel even answer my question on why he’d stayed?

Joel was a..peculiar man. The first interaction with him had been weird. Borderline creepy. How he’d squeezed your hand. He hasn’t said anything then. It took him until dinner when you were alone to finally talk to you.

You’re rarely put in situations where you need to be introduced yourself in your small town, but surely you’re supposed to say something. Not just stand there with a stoney look on your face.

After a couple moments you try to shake of your thoughts. You wouldn’t need to deal with him alone for long. Dad would be home by dinner tonight and once they’re settled in, he’ll find Joel and his men somewhere else to sleep and he’ll be out of your house. At a distance.

Thirty minutes later, and you’re so engrossed into the book your reading that you don’t notice when Joel steps outside, eyes squinting slightly from the brightness of the suns warmth. He spots you a little ways away and walks on over.

Once at the tree he leans against it, facing you, “Book good?” he asks.

You look up at him, giving him a small smile, “yeah it’s not bad. I’ve never read it before but it’s actually pretty good.” you explain.

“Yeah bet you know plenty about pretty things don’t you? Pretty girl.”

You heat up suddenly at his pet name for you, eyesight immediately moving down to the book in your hands as you become shy, “I-i guess so.” You talk to the book more rather than him.

“Why do you always do that?” his tone serious now.

Oh?

Looking back up at him, you give him a look, and he straightens up again, his features softening as well as his voice, he shrugs his shoulders, “ I’m just saying. Usually you’d at least say thank you when someone compliments you.” he all but scolds.

Panicked,your eyes widen, “oh- I’m sorry. I didn’t-I don’t-.” you scold yourself in your head.

Was that rude of me?

Taking breath, “I just don’t,” you start,”it’s not often I get told things like that.”

I don’t get told things like this by men like you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. Thank you. It’s very sweet of you.” you say sheepishly with a tight lipped smile.

It’s embarrassing really, him having to tell you it wasn’t polite to not say thank you.

He makes a noise of understanding, nodding his head, “Well now, when I compliment you it’d be nice to here that from you. Let me know you like it.”

Do you like it?

A warmth settles into your tummy, “okay. I will from now on Mr.Miller. I didn't mean to be rude,” you try to reason “I guess I just don’t really talk to any new people really.”

“Well people say things like that all the time,” he pushes himself off the tree and steps in front of you. You crank your neck up to be able to see him, “especially to pretty girls like you.” his hand reaches out to run the back of his fingers down your cheek until he can hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

He smiles at you, but there’s something else behind it you just don’t-

Stop it. He’s being kind. He’s trying to be nice.

“Thank you.” you say blink up at him, voice meek, butterflies fluttering in your stomach again as you try to push away the unsettling feeling you’ve been getting since his arrival.

He caresses your jaw lightly with his thumb and takes a step back, letting go, “You’re welcome, princess.”

The encounter with Joel doesn’t leave your mind as the rest of the day goes by. All you can do is replay the scene over and over and over again in your head. Analyzing everything about it.

From the way he spoke to you once you’d said thank you.

“…Princess…”

Princess.

You feel yourself blush and you bit your lip in order to suppress the stupid smile that wants to plaster itself on your face, that insufferable feeling of something bubbling in your stomach intensifying.

To the way he’d touched you. His hands had felt rough when you’d shook them upon your first interaction. You never knew they could be so soft however. When it came to caressing your face they’d been so gentle.

Could a man like Joel miller be gentle?

They had been. So gentle. You couldn’t get over how his eyes had scanned your face as you’d looked up at him. His eyes lingering on your lips.

Did he like your lips? Were they as pretty as he’d said you were?

Would he have kissed you?

You shake your head as you dismiss the thought.

No that’s stupid.

Was it stupid though? So stupid that you’re currently trying to put more effort into your looks for dinner?

You sit at your vanity, starring at the girl looking back at you through the mirror. You’ve done up your hair is half up half down. You’d put in some old hair rollers that had given your hair some soft curls as they cascaded down your back. You’d added some lipstick to your cheeks as blush.

Not having much to work with in terms of makeup seen as most of it was over ten years old and more than likely long since experienced. All you can really do is just add some color to your cheeks,lips, and a little bit to the lid of your eyes.

You’d picked out another dress similar to yesterdays, a white knee length dress. It sits nicely on your body, or so the women of the town had said, whatever that may mean. It feels comfortable, so you go with it.

Dinner wouldn’t be much, just some vegetables, rice and some roasted rabbit your dad had in the slaughterhouse out back. You never went in there. Ever. When you’d been six your father had been working on the garden and you’d been playing and wondered into it.

Never again.

You’d screamed so loud people nearby had run up the hill to your home to see what was wrong.

You shiver and wiggle your body at the thought. Gross.

Joel had gone in there per your request. When you’d explained why you just couldn’t go in there he’d laughed at you.

You’d shoved him slightly with your shoulder, “hey it’s not funny! It was really scared. Left me traumatized even.” you smile as he chuckles.

“Don’t worry pretty girl, don’t gotta go in there anytime soon.” he’d said as he passed you after patting your head.

That’s another reason for you putting more effort into yourself tonight. You’d cooked the rice and chopped up the vegetables already. All that was left was the rabbit but you’d but that to cook about thirsty minutes ago so it’d be done in about fifteen more.

A once over as you fix your hair has you overthinking.

Is it too much? This is stupid. One compliment and your getting ready for…what? Him?

Before you can make up your mind on wether just taking this dress off along with the makeup there’s a knock on your door.

You stumble slightly on your bare feet, as you bad towards the door nervously, cracking it open so that only your head pops out.

Joel stands there still dressed in his same jeans he’d worn earlier only thing that’s different is he’s also bearfoot, and he’s wearing a white t-shirt that looks comfy. It hugs his upper body so…well.

You can see his broad shoulders, toned chest, even the muscles of his arms, which seem to be just about bursting through the seams.

At seeing you poke you’re head out of the door he raises a brow, “Dinners ready. Made sure it was cooked.” He says

“Oh you didn’t have to do that, I was just about to go and check on it.” You frown

“Well then how’s ‘bout you come on out of there then darlin’.”

“Well I would-I mean I will just-um.” you try to make something up to stay in a little longer. “just,I’ll be out in a second.” shutting the door softly you press your forehead to the door, eyes squeezing shut as you take a breath. You hear Joel start walking down the hall, footsteps heavy.

You’re already dressed you might as well just go out. No point in taking it off now that’s it’s on.

After a moment you force yourself to yank the door open and walk to the kitchen, you see Joel there, serving up two portions, table set.

He’s cutting up some of the rabbit. The dim lights in the kitchen cascading him in a low glow. He looks so..nice. Yeah, he looks nice. This is nice. Your nerves start to simmer down.

He looks up once he hears your soft steps along the hardwood floor, faltering once he takes you in.

Christ.

You’re standing there, looking like an absolute doll. Your hair is done up, he can see there’s more defined coils in your locks as they fall over your shoulders, framing your face.

Your dress isn’t necessarily anything special, but fuck if you don’t look gorgeous. It meets just above your knees, feet bare. You’re beautiful, look more..flushed. You have a tint to your cheeks and lips. He stares more at your lips. He can tell you put more effort in your appearance than you usually do.

You fiddle with your hands as you feel him take you in.

Did he like it?

Did he like you?

He sets the carving knife and meat fork down, not taking his eyes off you as he goes around the counter until he’s standing right infront of you again.

Neither of your gazes leave one another as he approaches you, “Look at you, princess. All dolled up.” He reaches out for you placing a hand on the curve of your waist, pulling you to fun slightly

His other hand goes to cup your face, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“This all for me?” he tilts his head.

You feel yourself becoming warm and bubbly again, giving him a shy nod and small smile, “I thought maybe you’d, um,” you shrug, feeling embarrassed at admitting why you’d tried harder tonight.

“Don’t shy away now baby, tell me.” Joel urges you, hand on your waist sliding back and down to your lower back.

“I thought, maybe you’d..like it. Call me pretty again.” The words make you feel so much more embarrassed it’s practically mortifying.

“I don’t know it was dumb. I know you said I was, and-but I didn’t-“ your nervous rambling is cut short as Joel presses the hand on your lower back, hauling you forward until your pressed up against him.

You hand fly up to his strong chest, ruffling up the white shirt slightly. His touch alone making you feel dizzy.

“Of course I like it darling. I love it. You getting all dressed up for me. You look stunning n’ your lil’ white dress.” He cups your face, giving you a reassuring smile.

He loves it?

You look stunning.

He likes it.

You mirror his smile, feeling like you’d done a good job at making yourself look your best for him.

“I’m glad you like it Mr. Miller.” you giggle.

Joel hum, his yes looking over the features of your face until they land on your lips.

Oh god..

You bit your bottom lip and look up at him, his eyes snapping back to yours as they glimmer in the soft dim lighting of the kitchen.

He moves his face closer to yours, nose brushing against your own as he nudges you head to the side and up.

He’s going to kiss me. You thing dreamily.

He’s going to kiss me. You realize.

Eyes widening in a panic, you pull back, your hand pressing against his chest to halt him.

Joel’s eyebrows knit in confusion, but his hands tighten around you harder as he looks at you.

Frustratingly, his look of concern starts to simmer into one of annoyance and anger, “What’s wrong sweetheart? Thought you said you liked me. Ain’t this why you got all pretty for me?”

Your panic spikes more at his tone, he sounds a bit offended that you didn’t accept his kiss. Like he’d just given you a prize and you’d rejected it.

I didn’t mean to.

“I’ve never kissed anybody.” your nerves have you blurting out, cheeks flaring up.

There’s a beat of silence, but that only makes you feel more ashamed. You’d always felt a sort of shame at your own inexperience with these kind of..things. Although it’d never really matter to you enough to pursue anyone or do anything like kiss someone. It would feel embarrassing when all the older women in town would tease you.

“At this rate you’ll never find yourself a nice man to settle down with.”

“Men don’t take much a liking to girls as shy as you honey.”

“Can’t believe a young girl like you hasn’t been whisked away yet.”

“At your age I was already at least engaged.”

“Now how are you going to get yourself a husband like that, hm?”

That’s all the women would ever agree on when it came to you. They’d all agree when it came to your looks, and polite manners, but god forbid you not have a man yet. You’d tried, once. Really tried, but the boy you’d been talking to just wasn’t very pleasant to be around.

You didn’t exactly know why he hadn’t appealed to you. He was funny, not bad looking, just a year and a half older than you. Perhaps it was the way he’d been too touchy at first, or how he’d make ‘jokes’ about you and your body. Saying all the vulgar things he’d liked to do to you. It’d completely driven you away from ever interacting with anyone like that again.

And now you’ve denied a kiss from the only man besides your father that you’d wanted one from.

You sigh, eyes closing shut, your head drooping forward in shame, as you rest your forehead on his right peck. The urge to apologize for your lack of knowledge is strong. However the weight of embarrassment is stronger as it pulls down on your resolve to say anything.

Joel remains silent, and that only eats at you more. You feel like a complete and utter idiot.

Why did you even put on this stupid dress on for? A dumb compliment?

You’re a joke.

He untangles himself from you, stepping back, “Sit. I’ll serve you dinner.” is all he grunts out. Moving back to where he’d been cutting up the meat.

You feel yourself deflate, shoulders drooping. Not saying anything, you do what you’re told. Sitting there looking at nothing in particular.

Joel comes back with two plates in hand, along with a glass of water. He sets down a plate and the glass of water in front of you, and surprises you when he sits in what would typically be your fathers place.

He doesn’t look at you as he begins to pick food up with his fork, but all you can do is look at him. Silently pleading him to say something.

Did he not like you now that he knows you haven’t even kissed anyone yet?

He probably thinks you’re pathetic. Just like the women said.

You stare at him for a moment more, before deciding you’d rather just get dinner over with and lock yourself in your bedroom. Not really feeling hungry anymore, you just drink your water.

About fall glass in Joel speaks up, “I think it’s cute you haven’t kissed anyone before.” between a mouthful of food.

You bring the glass down from your mouth, setting it down on the table, “you think it’s..cute?” you say, baffled.

He just nods again, “You’re a special girl. A special girl needs her special first.” is all he says, still not looking up from his plate.

“When do you know who’s the special first?” you ask, hoping for an answer to the age long question.

Why can’t i seem to just find someone?

Joel stops chewing, meeting you eyes with his, “y’just do. Start getting all flushed. Your body is first to know. Then your head. Makes you want to talk to them, get to know em’. Then your body starts to get all hot, itching to touch.” He sees you look back down at your plate at that, and smirks.

You don’t look up from the food you’ve barely touched. It feels as if you took into his eyes again after what he’d just said, that he’ll know. He’ll know you feel that way about him.

So you don’t look up, even as he continues, “start to ache between your legs. Getting all tingly, you’re body knows what you want even if your brain doesn’t.”

Is that why you’ve been feeling that way?

Does your body know it wants him?

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, s’just natural. We all react the same way, our bodies..in a sense.” He chuckles the last works.

Nothing is spoken the rest of dinner, it doesn’t even last more than thirty minutes because you suddenly begin to feel your head pounding, mouth dry. You raise you hand up to your forehead to try and somehow calm the ache.

Joel sees this, “y’alright there sugar?” his voice sounds far away.

“Y-yeah. I-i just- need to, go to bed.” is all you can utter. You go to stand up, only for your legs to wobble before they give out beneath you.

Arms grasp yours for support, your vision becoming blurry, sounds muffled.

“J-Joel?” your say, before you go limp, world going dark.

He’d thought the pills would’ve taken more than a damn half hour to kick in.

You’d practically guzzled the whole glass.

He can’t blame you, poor thing. Nervous beyond belief, all fidgety. You never were very still, always moving, always doing something. He'd had a fantasy about taking you in your bed, in your bedroom, when he’d first glanced into it as your father had taken him to his room.

Walls a light pink, all white furniture that had surprisingly been kept in remarkable condition given the circumstances of the world. Warm pink sheets, white fluffy pillows, white curtains that didn’t do much to obscure the view of inside from the other side of the window.

You had some stuffed animals on your bed too, an old small stuffed bunny.

That’d been how he got your nickname.

His little bunny.

Your bedroom had been the embodiment of you.

He steps into your room, the soft light from your bedside table lamp illuminates the space, fairy lights around the archway of your closet, does the rest. Your vanity still has some of the things you’d used to get yourself ready scattered on top.

Walking to your bed, he lays you down, your hair splaying out around you like a halo.

You’re out cold. Don’t even move as the bed dips, with the weight of his body on it. Joel can’t stop looking at you, more specifically your tits.

He was always more of a tits man over an ass. Though he could appreciate the presence of both.

They’ve been pushing up against the low neckline of the dress all evening. Not bursting out, but definitely needing to be left out. Spreading your legs, he runs his calloused hands from the sides of your knees up your thighs, dress becoming bunched up as they slip under the fabric.

Shit, your so fucking soft everywhere. Your hands, your face, your voice, legs, body, all of you. It makes him want to squeeze you so tight he’s worried he’d break you.

Maybe he will, but certainly not yet. No. He’d have his fun with you. Break you down bit by bit till you yourself collapse with no other option but to have him build you back up.

His hands reach your panties, he feels at them, the texture seeming to be lace, as he imagines the intricate details, they toy with the band, and he pulls at it, stretching it out till it can’t anymore.

He lets it go, and it snaps back into place. Smacking your skin as it does. He glances up at your face, you don’t even flinch.

“Worked like a fuckin charm didn’t they baby?” he coos at you.

As if you’d answer.

He thinks to himself. Grinning like it’s funny. He moves his hand once again, this time up the sides of your stomach up your ribs. Feeling the goosebumps he leaves in the wake of his touch. They stop once they feel the wire of your bra, letting only his thumb feel the smooth material of it, over where your nipples would be.

Sliding them behind you, he expertly unclasps the hooks behind your back, seeing your breasts lose the support of it as they settle naturally on your chest.

“God your so fucking pretty, bunny. Such a good girl, hm? Getting all pretty for me just to catch my attention.” he doesn’t care that you won’t respond, might even prefer it.

Pulling his hands back from under your dress, he gropes your breasts, feeling them up as they fill his palms. Squeezing till he can see, your skin pale at the pressure, then releasing to see the imprints of his fingers begin to redden. His cock strains, begs, to be let out as it presses against his jeans, but he pursues.

Tracing the neckline of your dress up to the thin straps he pulls them down along with your bra, slipping them through your arms and throwing the bra aside on the bed as he pulls the dress completely off of down and off your body.

He could bust in his pants just by looking at you.

Tits bare, in nothing more than some white lace panties, with matching bows. If he had his fucking phone, he’d take so many pictures of you, save them for later use when he needs to blow one and you’re not there.

He relishes in the view. Committing every detail of you to memory. The way your chest rises and falls with each instinctual breath, the way your hair framed your peaceful angelic face. He can’t take it any longer, as he immediately falls on top of you, hands flying to your breasts as he needs them, mouth kissing and sucking lightly at the pillowy flesh.

Can’t mark you just yet baby.

“Have to wait.” He mumbles against your breast, beard a rough, striking, contrast from your softness. Just like him. His mouth connects with your hard nipple, sucking and licking at it like he’d actually get something to come out.

The sounds of him are obscene as the echo through the room. He’s sure your father could hear it from his room if he was still alive to be here.

Joel switches from one nipple to the other, basking in the warmth of your skin. This continues for a while, swirling his touch around your nubs before he’s skimming one hand down the length of your torso, until they meet the fabric of your panties again.

Not wasting any time he slips a hand in, running a finger down to your clit, rubbing lazy circles softly.

This, you do stir at. Your head falling to the side, as your legs twitch inward slightly, breathing patter changing, “feels good doesn’t it sweetheart? Yeah, it does. Pretty pussy hasn’t been touched the way it deserves has it?”

Slipping a finger through your fold he groans against your skin, “fuck your a mess. Little bitch, I haven’t even touched you yet, baby.”. Once he gets his fill from your breasts, he kisses down past the curve of your boob, onto your stomach until his face reaches your panties.

Kneeling in between your legs Joel doesn’t even think twice before he buries his face into your clothed pussy, inhaling your musky sent. You smell perfect, he’s practically itching to rip your underwear off.

He resists however, wanting this to last a little longer before he takes what he wants from you. He won’t fuck you tonight, no. He wants to hear all the noises you’ll make once he’s balls deep in you, tearing you in half as you try to accommodate him in you. Wants to feel you scratch and claw at his back from how hard he’s pounding into your tight hole.

This time when his cock twitches he listens to it, practically ripping his belt off, and pulling at the zipper on his crotch. He gets harder as the cool spring air make contact with his skin.

Leaning back on his knees he spreads your legs more, until he has a perfect view of the wet spot that’s soaked through the thin material of your underwear.

“Need to taste you first bunny.” he grumbles, and hurries to hook his fingers onto the waistband of them before sliding them down your legs, carefully placing them next to you.

Laying down now as he comes to settle between your thighs, hands feeling the skin there too.

“You don’t understand how badly I’ve wanted to touch you like this, bunny. From the moment I saw you I wanted you just like this.” He kisses up the inside of your thigh, alternating between your two legs until he places a single kiss onto your folds, nose nudging your clit.

He languidly flattens his tongue, the puffy walls of your pussy opening up to let him skim your slit with it. He looks up at you for any reaction, all he gets is your eyebrows furrowing and a whimper that doesn’t quite make it out as you once again turn your head to the opposite side.

Joel smiles into your pussy, and dives in completely. He licks at your slit before he’s latched onto your clit. Swirling his tongue round-around and then flattening it again. Trying to get even deeper, he shakes his head as he presses into you.

“Fuck you taste so sweet princess.” He whispers into you, one hand going up to group your left tit while he continues to eat you out. Horrendously filthy noises filling your pretty pink bedroom as he abuses your cunt.

His other hand comes to rub the sensitive nub between your legs as he slips his tounge into you, fucking you with it. It doesn’t take long before your pussy is nice and puffy. Shades of red and pink glistening with your wetness and his saliva.

He feels you clench on his finger and hums, “yeah baby? You like that? Like when daddy fucks you’re tight little hole him?”

You’ve started to whimper in your drug induced sleep, hands subconsciously tightening and bunching up your pillow and sheets. Legs threatening to close around Joel’s head so much he has to use the hand on your breast to keep you open for him.

The one rubbing your clit moves down to your slit, lightly prodding at your hole, “gonna have to be a big girl and take it baby” is all the warning he gives you, before he begins to slip his finger inside.

You’re whole body twitches, he can see your stomach tighten at the intrusion, your breath is heavy now, you’re practically panting. None of that matters however, because you suck in his digit in until he’s knuckle deep.

“Thaats it baby, fuck. Look at you, taking it so well sweetheart.” he begins to move his finger in and out, the mixture of wetness making it slip through with ease.

His mouth latches back onto your clit, and something in him snaps with his desire for you that he bites down on it. Not too hard, but just enough to where you’re moaning out loud in your sleep. Legs kicking lightly as you squirm to try and get away. His free hand holds you in place, once again running his tounch over to soothe the pain.

It doesn’t take long before another finger is joining the first. He feels more resistance than he did with the first one, your walls a bit harder to push by, but he makes it fit. He’s pumping them into you roughly and faster now.

Feels you begin to tighten more and more the longer he goes on, “that’s right bunny, come for me. Come for daddy, baby. That’s it, fuck, that’s it baby yeahh.” you mewl in response to your bodies release as you cream around Joel’s fingers. Legs instinctively clamping shut, squeezing his hand I between.

He lets you ride it out as you feverishly hump up into his hand. Slowly dragging them out, he doesn’t waste time as he sucks at them, savoring the taste of your essence, then dives back into the main source, drinking it up like it’s the sweetest nectar there is.

Once he’s got you all cleaned up, pussy stretched and looking absolutely ready to be fucked, he takes his cock in hand. Using your wetness to lube himself up as he jerks himself a couple of times.

“Maybe we could just put the tip in hm baby? Would you like that? Get a taste of daddy’s cock in your pussy? Yeah, I think you’d like that you little whore.” He grunts out.

He scoots closer to you knees meeting the curve of your as, thighs prest against the back of yours as he lines himself up, “juust the tip honey. Just a little bit.” he reassures himself.

He meets resistance as his engorged, angrily red tip tries to squeeze in, “shit your so fucking tight. Won’t even let me in without having to hurt you sugar. Bet you like it like this, like it to hurt. Dirty girl.”

He hunches forward, using one arm to hold himself up so that he doesn’t crush you, applying more pressure until he pops right in, your pussy squelching.

He groans loudly you can hear it from anywhere in the house, “fuck! That’s it you little bitch, take what I fucking give you baby. Shit you feel so good.”

You moan loudly as he groans, legs once again trying to close, only to be met with his torso between them. Joel only fucks you for a small while, savoring being inside you, before he’s pulling out.

He hears you whimper at the lost of contact and chuckles, “yeah? You miss it baby? Little slut hasn’t even had the whole thing and she wants more. We’ll get there honey don’t you worry.” His cock lays on your pulsing pussy, slapping it on your wet folds.

“Shit I can feel your heart beat from here, I promise I’ll give you more soon baby. S’long as you don’t make it too hard for me.” Even asleep you look so beautiful. A thin layer of sweat sheens your body, making you shine as the light from your bedroom reflects of you.

“Blissfully fucked out already,” he laughs, “and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He says as he takes both your legs, cock nestled between your thighs.

“How’s ’bout we finish this and go to sleep huh baby? Old man starting to smell over there in the other room. Gonna have to get rid of him once I’m done with you.”. Then he’s fucking your thighs like there is no tomorrow.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, your bed creaking with each thrust, his balls slapping against your ass, “FUCK! I can’t wait to fuck you, can’t wait to feel your warm pussy squeeze me till I cum in ‘ya. Get you nice and full of me till your dripping.”

Your tits bounce up and down as his manic thrusts don’t stop, the sounds of your slick making his dick slide between your thighs.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to feel his own release creeping up on him, “Fuck I’m gonna come baby, gonna paint you all white and pretty. SHIT! Ohh fuckfuck FUCK! that’s right you bitch take it. Fucking-take it.” His balls tighten as he begins to come, shot after shot landing on your stomach, so much that it fills your belly button up.

Joel allows himself to collapse onto you, breath heavily and hot against your ear as he pants like a damn dog.

He stays like that with you for a little while.

“Y’did so well for me sweetheart. So good for your daddy.” he whispers into your ear, placing a kiss just under it goodbye as he lifts himself back up.

“Can’t have none of it going to waste now can we?” He asks you scooping his cum off your belly with his finger and sliding it down, pushing it into your pussy. He repeats this until he’s got most of himself in you. Smearing the rest onto your puffy outer lips.

Satisfied and sated he tucks his softened cock back into his pants, zipping himself back up. He pats your pussy, before he’s putting your panties back on, along with your dress, not caring much about the bra.

He tucks you into your bed, giving you a kiss on the forehead.

He’d wait until you were awake to give you a real kiss.

Shutting the door behind him, he goes to the front door of the house. He pulls it open and outside by the tree near the fence that surrounds your home, Tommy stands there, smoking cigarettes as he leans against the tall wood.

Once he sees Joel he makes his way over, “The hell did you get that?” Joel asks, snatching it from his brothers lips.

“Ay, now. Watch it, I got it from one of the old hags husband, had a whole drawer full of ‘em.” Tommy tries to snatch it back.

Joel keeps it out of reach, before bringing it to his lips and taking a couple puffs, then dropping it.

Tommy sighs, stepping on it for him “so, heard you having some fun with the little lady. She as good as you’d wanted her to be?” he smirks.

“Ain’t none of your business now ain’t it little brother.” Joel turns back into the house, Tommy stepping in behind him.

“Just want to know my big brother can still get it up. Y’a Old dog.” he says, chuckling.

Said older brother doesn’t answer, just keeps on walking through the house, down the hall until he reaches your fathers bedroom door.

“Y’know, it’s pretty sick how you can go on and fuck the man’s daughter while he’s rotting not even 20 feet away.” the younger miller says, noticing the small pink flowers painted on the door across the one he’s about to go into

“She in there? Mind if I take a look see?” Hinting towards your door.

“Y’help me move the old fucker outta here and maybe I’ll grace you with a peek. And I ain’t fuck her yet.” Joel opens the door.

Tommy doesn’t get a chance to ask more as the reeking stench of death and decay wafts into his face.

The younger man’s nose wrinkles at the grim smell, “well shit, the fact you can’t smell him from outside is just about any godsend you get these days.” he gets to work on wrapping the body up in the worn quilt it lay on.

Your father had been a foolish man. Gullible. It didn’t take much to have the old man take pity on Joel and his men when he’d found them. Even when the rest of your fathers men were reluctant to help.

He’d invited them into your town, gave Joel of all people a place to stay at his own home. Old man was too trusting for his own good. Now he’d paid the price.

His face hadn’t changed from when Joel had last seen him. It had been the night of Joel’s arrival, after you’d gone to sleep that the two men had talked about leading a party of men out seeing as there had been ‘another group’ spotted.

No doubt the rest of Joel’s crew. Joel had suggested they leave at dawn, before you’d wake up. Then given your father a lame ass excuse on why he couldn’t accompany them but reassured your father he would tell some of his boys to go with them.

Your father had written you the letter and placed it on the living room coffe table. It was only then that Joel struck, swinging the metal baseball bat he’d found tucked away in the closet of his own bedroom.

The grotesque sound of his skull cracking, accompanied by the splat of blood that came from the old man’s head as his body fell face first on his bed was all there was to be heard.

Surprisingly the old fucker hadn’t died, only started moving once Joel had moved his limp body to lay completely on the bed, “y’know I’d really hoped that you’d have made this easier.” as he grabbed the pillow from beside the bleeding man’s head.

He pressed it into his face, and naturally the body beneath him started to thrash and kick. His hands clawing at anything they could grab, trying to fight for the a breath of air as the weight on top of him only increased. Joel suffocated the life out of him, eventually going still.

It didn’t pain Joel to do this, he’d done worst. He will do worst if he needs to.

He’d snuck into your room that night too. Just moments after killing your father in the room right across from yours. You were sound asleep, not a clue in the world that you’d just lost everything.

He’d smiled down at you as he ran his fingers down your cheek, “little bunny, you’ll forgive me one day baby. I promise.” he’d whispered, giving you a small kiss on the corner of your lip.

Now standing here, twenty-four hours later, your father is starting to smell. Opening the window to both your and his room had only done so much. It was time to move the bastard out of the house, dump him a couple miles into the woods.

Both millers carried him out through the front door, down into an old bin, “I’ll make sure to go and drop him off at dawn.” Tommy said.

Nodding, “You do that, little brother.” Joel says. Patting the other on the shoulder, turning back towards the house.

Turning back, to you.

[tsukidrama]

would you write about reader being sad about losing her little brothers and Annie comforting her about it?

scattered like seeds

off the beaten path (a trnt side story)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢѕ: discussion of grief / dead little kids

setting: the cottage, sometime after chapter 2

ao3 | the road not taken | cottagecanon

← previous | next →

author’s note: accidentally hurt myself real bad with this one... definitely going to be writing a happy fic about the little brothers in the future. poor reader gotta be equally as repressed as Annie to explain how much that bitch compartmentalizes

word count: 1.9k

Chickens cluck at your ankles, bobbing their heads up and down as they run around the fenced-in enclosure You throw another handful of feed amongst the grass. Predictably, a swarm of chickens mobs the area immediately. 

It brings a nostalgic smile to your face. Animals are what you’d been missing – not only does it give you something to focus on, but it reminds you of better days. You think back to your childhood when you’d help out around your grandparents’ farm. 

You’d fed the chickens back then, too. Another handful of seeds scatters amongst the chickens. 

“They’re so loud…” Annie mutters distastefully. The birds don’t even come up to her knees, but she flinches every time one of them moves a little too quickly. She startles at the slightest bawk or the flap of a wing. 

You suppress a giggle. “Well yeah, they’re chickens. But it’s too quiet out here anyway.” 

She crosse her arms and huffs. “Hmm,” she grumbles, “That’s why I liked it.” 

More than anything, her moodiness is endearing. “You’ll get used to them soon enough,” you assure her playfully. 

Another grimace. “Do I want that, though?” 

The animals are one thing that you’re not going to budge on. Alright, you’re out in bumfuck nowhere. Her dad lives here too? Fine. But you ARE taking care of farm animals and you are NOT going to eat them. They will be your pets and it starts with the chickens. 

But in the spirit of keeping the peace, you decide to appeal to her ethos instead. 

“It reminds me of home,” you say simply. 

It works like a charm. 

Finally, Annie smiles. The grumpiness fades away as her face softens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“I’ll get used to it,” she confirms, nodding, before she sucks air in through her teeth again, “but right now, I really want to go back inside. Are we almost done?”

You can’t pinpoint whether it’s her words, or the intonation in which she says them, or maybe the all-too-familiar way she cringes away from the chickens, that triggers your deja vu. But you’ve seen this before… In your mind’s eye, you can see a little boy saying those exact same words. 

“I wanna go back inside,” he’d pouted, “Are we almost done?” 

You don’t remember what you had said in return. Had he usually come with you to feed the chickens, or was that time special? You can only come up blank. What’s more distressing than anything is the fact that the memories seem to be slipping away. You stop what you’re doing and focus entirely on retrieving the memory. 

In the process, you wall yourself up without even realizing it. Annie is still talking to you, you’re watching her mouth move, but you have no clue what she’s saying. Her words go in one ear and out the other. 

“Don’t let them peck me!” Annie cries out, shrieking. 

It’s the only sentence that cuts through the haze, and it unintentionally triggers the rest of the memory. Something inside of you freezes up as you’re is flooded by recollection. 

You’re nine years old again, carrying a basket of eggs you’d gathered for your grandparents. Two little boys are inside the coops with you shrieking and running in circles. 

“Don’t let them peck me!” your youngest brother shouts. He screams and slaps at the birds helplessly in an attempt to shoo them. His grubby little hands don’t actually hit the chickens, but he effectively scares them away. “Noooo! Save me!” 

You hold back giggles as you lean down with your arms outstretched. “Jump up here. I’ve got you, Joey.” 

He’s small enough that he can still fit on your hip if you hoist him up and young enough that he still clings to you without resentment. He squeals as he holds his feet out of reach. 

Another boy a few years older than the first guffaws across the coop. He laughs up until it causes the swarm of chickens to turn on him. 

He shrieks. “Nooo! Don’t let them come over hewe, I’m out of food! My bucket’s empty.” As they bump into him he lets out a scream.  

“Run away!” shouts Joseph from your arms. “Run, Sam!”

“Come here!” you encourage, reaching out your one free hand. Samuel cackles joyfully as he runs along the fence of the coop. He succeeds in outrunning the chickens until he reaches where you and the little one are standing. 

He manages to dash behind you. Immediately he clutches your waist, trying to push you in front of him as a human shield. You hold back your own giggles as you let him. The chickens swarm harmlessly below, doing nothing more than bumping against your legs. Your feet are pecked, but they’re harmless taps of exploration, not aggression.  

Both of the boys giggle as the lack of real danger becomes clear. You smile warmly and nuzzle into Joseph’s head. 

Since your hands are full, Samuel opens the gate of the chicken coop while you block the chicken with your leg. Even back then you were the one responsible for making sure none of the birds escape from the open door. 

You set Joey down as you re-fasten the latch on the coop door. He goes to rattle at the fence, laughing when the chickens curiously gobble through the chainlink in return. 

Suddenly, he yanks his hand away with a shout. “Ow!” he shouts, “It bit me!” 

Again Sam laughs at him. 

“Hey!” you protest. Not really even to fuss at him, but to stop Joseph from getting too upset about it.

It’s too late, though, and there are already tears welling up in his eyes. 

The three-year-old stomps his foot in defiance and sticks out his tongue. You hand off the basket of eggs to the older of the boys as you kneel down. 

“You’re alright, see?” you remind Joseph. You gently take hold of his chubby little wrist and kiss his finger to make it feel better. He smiles despite the fat tears still rolling down his cheeks. 

“Sowwy Joey,” Samuel adds bashfully after a few seconds. 

The littlest one sniffles, but moves on quickly. “S’okay Sam… but can I be the one who carries the basket?”

You giggle at how quick his turnaround was, and at how the frown is wiped from his face as the basket is handed over. 

Joseph holds your hand without you even having to ask. Sam, on the other hand, pretends to ignore you when you’d reached for his. However, after you clear your throat he gives in. 

You remember the smile on your face and the joy you felt in that moment when the three of you walked back up to the house together hand in hand. 

How could you ever have forgotten? Had you really forgotten, though? Or had you just buried it so deeply that you didn’t even realize those memories had floated away from you? Immediately, you clutch your chest as an old and familiar ache comes out. 

Annie notices your reaction and approaches you gently. “Uh, are you okay?” she asks, looking both nervous and confused. 

For a moment you stay completely frozen up. Tears well in your eyes and flow down your cheeks, seemingly out of nowhere. For a second you genuinely don’t know how to react. All you can manage to do is stare at Annie hopelessly and terrified. 

“Hey…” she mutters. All at once the seriousness of the situation seems to hit her. She crosses the distance between you to put her hands on your shoulders. Instead of forcing you to make eye contact, she just snakes arounds you to offer a quiet comfort. You try to move but you can only stumble, so you lean against the outer fence of the coop. 

Now you stare down at the chickens again. You’re finally able to get a few strained words out. “Being out here with them makes me think about my brothers.” 

Annie’s face falls. She can recall the amount of times that you’ve talked about them on one hand easily, and most of those times she had been encased in Titan crystal. At the time, it had seemed like a blessing to be able to sit there passively listening. She had no clue what to say back then, because after all, what do you say about somebody’s dead siblings? 

Now that she was seeing you upset about it for the first time, it felt much more like a curse. She regrets not thinking about it more, or not coming up with a plan to deal with your reaction. Her hands shake as her embrace on you tightens. 

“I’m sorry – I didn’t realize,” she stutters, and presses her forehead to your shoulder. “I feel stupid. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You shake your head. “It’s not really your fault, and it’s not a bad thing, either,” you insist, although there’s a notice crack in your voice, “uh, I think. It’s lot, you know? I just — I don’t know. I miss them.”

Once again, you start to cry as more memories resurface. Little but significant things like the smell of the top of Joey’s head, or the way Sam used to hold your hand far too tightly (not that you’d ever complained). The sound of their voices, their favorite holidays and times of year. 

“Oh shit,” Annie mutters, starting to sweat a little bit, “hey, come here.” She pulls you closer to her and wipes your tears with the back of her hand. 

You cry for a little while longer while she holds you, though you’re tying to suck it up the whole time. There’s no rush or pressure, but you’re embarrassed of how it came out of nowhere. Maybe you just want to be perceived as being more put-together than you actually are. 

“Do you think it would help to talk about it?” Annie asks after a few minutes. She seems hesitant to bring the topic up again. 

You shrug as you consider it, but in the end you decide against it. The memory was top unexpected, and honestly, it hurts too much to process right now. You’re starting to calm down at long last. 

How was it that even just by remembering, it felt like someone had reached into your chest and squeezed your heart into a mangled pulp? 

Eventually, you shake your head. “For now do you think you could just… help me feed them?” 

Annie nods earnestly, all hints of hesitancy and sarcasm gone. She lets go of your shoulders and takes the bucket from your hands. 

And though she doesn’t look particularly excited about it, she even reaches into the bucket to scatter a handful of feed amidst the birds. She isn’t looking, and throws it directly on top of one of the hens, who screams like it’s being murdered and dashes into the covered coop. 

It’s enough to break the heaviness of the moment. You laugh, much to the blonde’s embarrasmmnet. Pink floods her cheeks and she pushes the bucket back towards you. 

“Your turn,” she encourages, but you know her well enough to know that with this kind of blush, what she actually means is: “Take it away now.” 

So you take it back as she loops her arm in yours. Annie leans her head on your shoulder while you scatter another handful of seeds. This time, it doesn’t land on a chicken. 

You watch them bob around, pecking and clucking between the grass. The throbbing in your chest dulls to a nostalgic ache. Finally, you let your guard down enough to let yourself rest. 

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[stanknotstark]

Masterlist

Chaptered Works:

-Astral (Loki x Reader) (WIP):You’re soulmates with Loki. You discover this when you experience something traumatizing and astral project to Loki. This is the journey from being a normal girl in NY to one of the most powerful beings in the universe.  Pt.1, Pt. 2, Pt. 2.1, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5, Pt. 6, Pt. 7, Pt. 8, Pt. 8.1, Pt. 9, Pt. 9.1, Pt. 10, Pt. 10.1, Pt. 11, Pt. 11.1, Pt. 12, Pt. 12.1, Pt. 13, Pt. 14.1, Pt. 15, Pt. 15.1, Pt. 16, Pt. 16.1 Pt. 17, 

Easy Aim (Is Only Exciting Once or Twice) (Loki x Reader) (COMPLETE): Everyone loves body switching AUs, right? I do. So experience what it’s like to be in a man’s, not just any man, Loki’s body while helping Loki truly experience a woman’s body in the process. Inspired by the peeing scene in Jumanji Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5, Pt. 6, Pt. 7, Pt. 8

Odinson M.D. (Loki x Reader) (WIP): Y’all wanted a House AU so here it is. Loki is a doctor who keeps most people at bay with his sharp wit and sarcasm. He doesn’t understand the need for romantic ploys and casual human discussion. He thrives in the hospital, trying to figure out the unknown, even if his methods turn a bit morally ambiguous at times. That’s why he has Thor and Frigga to keep him in line although he would argue he has no need for it. You just happen to be a doctor on tenure under Loki’s tutelage along with Steve Rogers and Peter Parker. Can you convince the jaded doctor you’re just what he needs to keep him on his toes? Pt. 1, 

Pulse (Loki x Reader) (COMPLETE): Your pulse calms Loki down. Multiple scenarios where Loki finds solace in your pulse. Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Pizza Delivery Man, Not Boy (Loki x Reader) (WIP): Loki is going to do great things in life as a historian, first he must survive as a pizza delivery boy before he meets you. You’re the Dean of History and put out a scholarship worth $10,000. Loki wasn’t going to apply, but you convince him too. He also doesn’t know you’re the Dean, just a really suspicious woman. Pt.1, Pt. 2

Tales of a (Prom) King (Loki x Reader): Prom is a month away and Loki has done nothing to prepare to ask you because, honestly, why would you, a popular jock, want to go to prom with Loki? Loki is a textbook definition nerd. Pt. 1, Pt. 2

President Loki: PURE SMUT. “You little minx,” Loki breathes out. He pushes up against your body with his and you swallow when you feel his hard length push into your hip. “You could not handle me. I am not like your pathetic, little Loki. I do not make love. I fuck. I would ruin you.” Pt. 1

Tabloid Junky (Bucky x Reader): Jaimee is an aspiring, young reporter, excited to tell people’s stories, working for Jed & Stone Corp. One man in particular catches her attention, Bucky Barnes. She wants the world to know his story, even if she only works for an unreliable tabloid company. Bucky just so happens to be interested in her story as well. Pt. 1 

Actions Speak Louder Than Words: Inspired by this tiktok. Loki falls in love with your laugh, just can’t get enough of it but all good things come to an end, including your laughter. When something traumatic happens to you you get selective mutism which stops all laughter but not only that, you don’t speak anymore. Until one day, Loki manages to get a laugh out of you and, through the road of recovery, you even begin to speak again. Pt. 1, 

The (Tiny) Adventures of A Chick Named Gilfred: Inspired by a request, A Snitch in Slumber, we watch Loki and reader’s love unfold through the eyes of a chicken. Yes, you read that right, a chicken. Pt. 1, 

One-shots/drabbles:

Truth Serum: When you clean a mess in Tony’s lab you accidentally touch a foreign liquid. Loki helps the best he can.

Trust: Loki has a hard time believing you truly trust him. 

Glitter and Gold: After telling Loki you look better in silver jewelry you decide to wear all gold. Loki definitely notices. 

 Laundry Day: Tony catches you taking your suit to be washed. He has a field day when he tells you it’s not necessary. 

Pizza or Loki?: Loki can’t fathom why you would pick pizza over him. Little does he know you have some doubts he placates with a really, not so simple, question.

Mischief, Magic, and Machines: Studying magic all night with Loki, you’re late coming home, like it’s-morning-already late. Tony, your dad, is concerned and stops you as you enter the common area. Things escalate and you’re forced to play a hidden card that didn’t even actually happen (as much as you wish it did).

Least of His Worries: You catch your boyfriend cheating and when you go find a room to cry in Loki finds you and reacts in a way you weren’t expecting. 

Coming Out (Tony Edition): You come out to Tony, your father.

Cuddle Bug: When you’re cuddling Loki one day he leaves and comes back to your cuddles and you don’t even realize. 

I’m So Alone: Angsty as the title suggest. You, after losing Loki, also lose the Avengers and Shield and became a dangerous operative on the field because you have nothing left to lose. Loki comes back just in time. 

Nails n’ Spa: Loki teaches you how to say no in an unceremonious way.

Chosen: Tony brings up a question of your loyalty when he claims you care about Loki more than the team. He’s not wrong.

Ballistic: Loki comes home furious and you’re scared. With your powers you turn invisible until his rage is settled.

Commanding Loki (Just kind of happens): The Avengers are in awe and shock when you begin giving Loki commands in front of them. Loki is unimpressed but follows your commands anyways seeing as he’s head over heels for you. 

My Eyes Are Up Here, Loki: Inspired by a tiktok. Loki tells you he can make you scream with only two fingers. Your reply is anything but sexy.

Wisdom Starts with A T: You wake up in central park, your head resting in Loki’s lap. Loki was supposed to take you to get your wisdom teeth out and back to the tower. Loki fills you in on what happened in between. 

When Venom Meets Poison: Inspired by a tiktok. You and Steve have a rocky relationship. When he states he’d poison your drink if you were his wife well, he kinda deserves the response he gets in return.

5 Times Loki Held Your Hand and One Time You Held His: What the title says!

Caught in the Act: One day you catch Loki masturbating. In the living room of all places. His living room, but the living room nonetheless. Then he makes it weird and moans your name. 

Toxic + Toxic = Healthy: You and Loki break up. Both of you deal with it uncharacteristically. Loki sleeps with girls that look like you and you mess around with Thor in retaliation. It’s all very healthy stuff here.

Serinakakers As Proof: You’re dating Loki but keeping it a secret as per Loki’s request. The team starts to question if you’re lying about your ‘lover’ and Loki has to save you because Thor has really bad timing.

Perfect Couple: Based off a scene from Big Bang Theory. After a battle you’re all eating and a little irritated. Tony picks a bone with Loki, pulling your relationship into it. Loki ends up in the right and with the final word, as usual.

5 Times You Shared a Bed with Loki and 1 Time You Made an Excuse to Share a Bed: Title explains.

Coming Out (Loki Edition): As requested. You’re dating Loki and want to come out as bisexual. While you know he won’t judge you that doesn’t mean you’re not still nervous. Everything ends just fine though. 

Friends?: Loki is told he’ll never have friends and you step in to say you’re Loki’s friend, standing up for him. This causes Loki to become infatuated with you and fall for you. Little does his know that you do as well. (Inspired by tiktok but longer so i consider it a drabble)

Curse Her (No Really): Amora curses you so you can’t wear gold anymore, the metal being Loki’s favorite type of jewelry to gift you and see you wear with pride. You don’t want to tell him because you’re strong and independent and can figure this out without him, right?

Was That So Hard?: After a fantastic morning of sex with the God of Mischief, you have trouble getting around because your legs are shaking. Loki revels in it, letting it boost his ego.

Violet Sunkiss: What started out as a thought of “What if you had a sun burn and begged Loki to change you into a vampire so it didn’t hurt anymore” turned into something completely different...I’m not complaining but apparently I can’t write crack 😂

Run Like Roller Coaster: (High school AU?) You really didn’t want to come to the amusement park with your group of friends but they had insisted, stating it wouldn’t be fun without you so you agreed. What you hadn’t told them is that you’re deathly afraid of roller coasters. Like full on, start sobbing and screaming, scared. 

Small Steps: Based off a post that says 25% is better than 0%. Trying a little is better than not trying at all. So, I have Loki come in and help you take small steps towards feeling better. Basically an excuse for fluff.

5 times Loki caught you and 1 time you caught him: You let out an airy laugh. “As thanks for catching me all the time I’d like to say it’s now time I catch you.” Loki gets an adorable, confused look on his face. “Pardon?” “You’re falling for me and it’s about time I catch you, Loki.” You explain.

One Word, Seven Letters: Based off a post. From Tony’s POV. Loki knows he’s going to die so he tells you he loves you as goodbye. Tony can’t just accept that, it’s not right.

Raiders of the Lost Jotun: Summary: Based of this post. Indy is so suave so I made Loki Indiana Jones. Very short and sweet.

Magic ‘n Ruin: Masturbating to Loki is enough to make you feel guilty. He is your best friend, he isn’t looking to have anything to do with you romantically or physically because he obviously would have hinted at it. That’s why you feel guilty for masturbating to the thought of him, you reason in your mind. !Smut!

Struck Through The Heart (You Give Love A Good Name): 6 times Thor reacted with lightning and in between maybe he fell in love with you too. (Thor x Reader)

(Sol)ace: “When I had bad days, my mother would comfort me with physical touches. We could be doing our own thing but just having her physically there was enough to console me.” You sit there quietly. Your heart tries to burst from your chest a few times but you herd it back into your rib cage with steeled resolve. “This is your attempt at making me feel better?” You whisper across his clothed chest.

Best Friends? Forever: Based off, “Best friends?” “Forever.” Loki is your best friend through life, and you are his unmalleable support just until you’re not.

Judas: Inspired by a tiktok. When you and Loki spar, things get a bit...out of hand. 

Imagine: 

Imagine Loki making a habit of checking in on you. He asks if you’re taking your meds.

Imagine the floor is lava game but with the Avengers.

Imagine you bottle everything up and always act happy. One day you explode and Loki witnesses it. 

Imagine begging Loki, “Please don’t say ‘I told you so.’” He promises he won’t. Instead, he just finds various creative ways to say it.

Imagine Loki as a vampire and you hit him with your car because you do not see him in the mirrors.

Imagine you’re upset ask Loki to take you home. He takes you to your apartment and you’re like “No, home.” Meaning Loki’s condo.

Prompts:

“Are you satisfied now...” “Do you even know what love feels like?”

“Why are you blinking like that with your eyes? Is everything ok?” “That was supposed to be a wink!”

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” “Yes. Is it working?”

“What made you change sides?” “I suppose I just saw the error of my ways.” “...It was Person C, wasn’t it?” “It was Person C.” 

“So, if you could kidnap me really publicly that would be great.” “...why?” “I kinda forgot about this research essay due tomorrow? And like, my prof knows I’m a hero- I even brought my laptop so I can write it in your cell. Is the wifi password still the same?”

“i knew you wouldn't bring a jacket, so i made sure to color co-ordinate with you so you could wear mine on the way home.”

"I got you flowers. but, if you have allergies, i also got fake flowers! Just in case.” NOW WITH AN EPILOGUE. Pt.2

“Sure. Blame the guy who’s a huge idiot who causes a lot of problems, again!” (Loki & Thor)

“But Loki I want to be the Spock to your Kirk!” You plead. When Loki frowns at you, confused, you sigh. “The Anakin Skywalker to your Obi-Wan?” (Loki x Reader)

Tiktok Made Me Do It:

Pt.1 (Loki x Reader)

Pt.2 (Loki x Reader)

Pt.3 (Loki x Reader)

Simon Says...: Loki cannot tell you why you will do anything, anyone commands if they put Simon says before their command but he comes to like using it on you, and liking you as well.

Requests:

How to Stump a Trickster God: You have powers like Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure where you can tell what someone is going to say before they say it. It pisses Loki off that he can’t figure out what kind of power you have but in the end he comes to accept the unknown and even comes out with you as his courted.

SPF Loki: Jotun!Loki helping reader with a sunburn.

Too Late, Too Soon: “You have dilated cardiomyopathy, I’m sorry.” You look at the doctor and sigh. “I’m assuming you can’t...fix it?” The doctor fights a grimace and shakes his head. “Normally, yes, but considering you’re already being treated for heart failure... it’s going to kill you.” (Follow up story here)

A Snitch in Slumber: You have insecurities about your sleep talking, considering you’ve been teased about it in the past. Loki is there to assure you nothing is wrong about it.

A Little Pain (And A Lil Glory): Loki helps with your migraine.

Devil In The Details: Loki hates the sand and after a nasty prank you decide to exploit this small detail.

Sleeping Demons: Loki wakes up to the reader crying in their sleep, like when you have dreams where you cry in the dream and you wake up with your face all wet and all the emotions. Just Soft Loki fluff fic..

Unfinished Works: 

One Date, Best Date: You want Loki to be yours. So you give him a deal: If he goes on a date with you and enjoys it he must switch sides, join the Avengers. 

Enemies to Lovers: It’s a beloved trope, enemies to lovers.

Crave You: So I had this idea very early into creating this blog that you wrote the dates of milestones with Loki and lyrics to go with the dates.

Little Stresses: Number 20 from your prompt list "a hand written note" combined with 25 "falling asleep in their arms" for our beloved Loki 💕 and an anxious female reader that possibly freaks out about her upcoming final, final, final exams?? 

A Stranger In NYC: Loki seeing you, a stranger, crying and reluctantly (not really) going over to help?

Interactive Fics:

Choose Your Daddy: You speak German one day and just assume no one can understand you especially Thor and Loki. They let you speak your thoughts without revealing their All-speak until one day Loki lets the secret out. You get to choose who you end up with! Loki. Thor. Tony.

I will be adding onto this as I post more so check back to find new stories!

[sapphicauntie]

I hope you don't mind if I choose all three Wachowski brothers for the Send Me A Character thing, I love them all equally

this got lost in all my notes, sorry anon! So let’s do all three Wachowski sibs, starting with Sonic

First impression: is that fucking Dewey Duck in a Sonic costume?

Impression now: I would die for you

Favourite moment: it starts and ends with ‘d’, and also the beach scene in the second movie I thought was a really good display of how much Sonic has grown as both a character and his own person.

Idea for a story: I have several, it’s called Birds of a Feather j/k I have an idea for a Sonic chapter but I need to iron it out a bit before I write it

Unpopular opinion: the memes and flossing can go

Favourite relationship: definitely how father-son he’s gotten with Tom (HEAR ME YOU SICKOS??? THEY’RE A FATHER AND SON YOU IDIOTS), but I also look forward to seeing what he’s like with his new brothers in the Knuckles series if they touch on that in it

Favourite headcanon: Wachowski can and will kill a man which entirely sets him apart from the other Sonics in the continuity. and I’m also a fan of the living chaos emerald theory

Tails

First impression: baby boy. fluffy baby boy

Impression now: baby boy. fluffy baby

Favourite moment: definitely mowing Knuckles down with the cop car is top tier entertainment, also Siberia dance off

Idea for a story: as above. I also have a couple more Tails ideas in the works for future Birds of a Feather chapters. one will be Tails having to leave post it notes on things he’s tampered with.

Unpopular opinion: I don’t think I have any unpopular Tails opinions other than they really should’ve shown a small flashback to his home world. we got one with Knuckles and Sonic, and I think it would’ve driven home his panic attack when the Siberians started calling him and Sonic freaks

Favourite relationship: I look forward to a lot of Tails with his new fam, especially Ozzie and Maddie and his big bros, and maybe Wade

Favourite headcanon: he’s taken over Tom’s shed where Tom found Sonic in the first movie. Tom is never getting it back

Knuckles

First impression: *INCOHERENT SCREAMING* and ‘oh gods I hope they don’t mess him up’

Impression now: I absolutely adore this iteration of Knuckles right down to his Draxxness

Favourite moment: too many but honorable mentions go to ‘oh they are stairs’, ‘YOU DARE MOCK ME IN MY HOUR OF DEFEAT’ and ofc ‘I HAVE JUST BEEN TOLD THEY HAVE SPRINKLES’

Idea for a story: Ohana was basically meant to be him getting used to the family life but since I wrote that when we didn’t know anything about what he’d be like or his role, I’d like to carry some of it over into Birds of a Feather. I also saw someone point out that Knuckles would be more inclined to call Maddie ‘mother’ than Sonic would or that Sonic would rather call Tom ‘dad’ than vice versa. I’d like to explore that.

Unpopular opinion: I honestly don’t think there’s any shipping material between him and Sonic in the movie verse. As much as I was gung ho for it before I do acknowledge that they are brothers in a sense now more so than in past versions. Though I am still gonna write that au at some point.

Favourite relationship: KNUCKLES AND MADDIE KNUCKLES AND MADDIE KNUCKLES AND MADDIEEEE. SHE OUTRIGHT SAID HE WAS HER FAVOURITE AND I SCREAMED BC MAMA’S BOYYYYY

Favourite headcanon: he might have a bed and roof over his head but Knuckles comes and goes as he pleases from the Wachowski home. He’s like a college student that goes away for a semester and then comes back. However he does leave notes, despite nobody being able to read his chicken scratch of Ekidnian.

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 8}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Cassian didn’t have to go into the bar until noon, so until Viviane arrived for her first day at 11:30, it was just him and Nyx.

The sun was out, and Cassian intended to take full advantage of it. Nyx was in his stroller and Cassian was jogging down the side of the Sidra. He’d only had him for the last half hour.

After Cassian’s breakdown last night, Nesta had apparently decided to let Cassian sleep in. Before Nyx could even cry, Nesta had gotten him up, ready, and fed before she left for work that morning.

He was mortified that she’d had to see that, that he’d broken down in front of her like that. But there was so much of Rhys looking at him, all the time and he’d been holding it in for so long. And knowing that he hadn’t been able to figure out what Nyx needed was the final straw last night.

After Nesta had hugged him, he’d finally gotten the strength to pull himself together, and he pulled from her grasp. He’d noticed the dress she wore to go out then, showing just as much skin as that damn towel had, and had made an excuse about being exhausted. He’d shut himself in his room, staring at the ceiling until he fell asleep around two or three in the morning.

He wasn’t surprised she had barely wanted to see him this morning. She probably thought he was an irresponsible mess, probably figured she was better off taking care of Nyx on her own.

And maybe she was.

Nesta had some natural motherly instinct, just like Feyre and Elain had. It was an Archeron trait, Cassian had no doubt.

And although the Archeron sisters certainly hadn’t had a perfect upbringing, the three of them had always had each other.

Cassian couldn’t say the same.

His mom died young.

He’d never had a father.

Or siblings.

Or any other extended family.

He’d just had Rhysand and Azriel, and although fatherhood had come decently easy to both of them, Cassian couldn’t say the same for himself. He was the goofy, unpredictable uncle of the group, he was good in that role.

Not the ideal father figure.

Cassian picked up his speed.

Nyx giggled and threw his hands in the air. 

Regardless of his mood, he couldn’t help but smile down at him.

He loved this kid, and he knew that this kid loved him. He may not be his father, but he would do his damndest to make sure he knew how much he was loved. Every damn day.

*

Cassian had just gotten out of the shower and gotten dressed when he heard the doorbell chime.

Nyx was standing in his playpen, holding onto the padded railing when Cassian rushed to the door, throwing it open.

“Viviane, hey,” he said, opening it wide enough for her to step through. She gave him a polite smile and he shut the door behind her. “Okay, so Nyx is over there, Nesta left a note on the fridge with our cell numbers, the number for her restaurant, my bar, uh, his pediatrician-.”

Viviane laughed quietly and headed for the playpen. “I’ll call you if I need anything, but I’m sure this little dude is going to be an angel.”

She reached down and scooped him up and Nyx did nothing but beam up at her.

“He’s in good hands,” Viviane went on when she saw the worry in Cassian’s eyes.

“I know,” he smiled, although hesitantly. “Nesta will be home at four-thirty.”

“We’re going to have fun,” Viviane promised, and Nyx giggled.

Cassian took that as cue to leave and hurried out the door. It was stressful, leaving him for the first time, alone with someone they had only just met.

He found himself wondering if Rhysand or Feyre would approve.

He prayed they did.

When he got to the bar, Kallias was already there, making sure everything was ready for opening.

“You’re two minutes late, boss,” he teased.

Cassian snorted. “New nanny. Had a hard time leaving.”

Kallias raised a brow. “Hot nanny?” 

Cassian grinned as he came behind the bar. “Just your type, actually.” 

Before the conversation could deepen, Cassian seeing the intrigue in Kal’s eye, he was heading to the store room, grabbing a few bottles to keep within reaching distance when they undoubtedly got a little busy over lunch.

“I like hot nannies,” Kallias hollered. “It would be nice of you to share.”

Cassian snorted, heading back up towards the bar. He didn’t reply, shaking his head as he glanced at his friend, and he set about cutting and readying the garnishes for drinks.

With a dramatic sigh, far louder than it needed to be for Cass to hear him, Kallias began turning on the televisions around the room, two on different sports broadcasts and one on a local music channel.

Maybe he would set Kallias up with Viviane.

Even he had to admit…they’d make a pretty damn cute couple.

*

It was just before 4:30 when Nesta pushed open the front door, prepared to find the house thrown into chaos.

But, it was spotless, Nyx was sleeping, and Viviane was on the couch, reading a book. She looked up at Nesta and smiled.

“You’re home,” she whispered, even though Nyx wasn’t in the room. “He’s been down for about forty-five minutes. We played hard today. I think he’s worn out.”

Nesta blinked, carefully stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “He was good?”

“Oh, he was great,” Viviane promised, standing up and closing her book with a bookmark placed neatly between it’s pages. “Although, his diaper rash is getting pretty bad. I changed him more often to try and keep him as dry and rash-creamed as possible. But, you may want to keep an eye out. I’ve seen worse, but you still may want to get a prescription from his doctor to help clear it up.”

Nesta hadn’t even noticed that Nyx had had a rash and chastised herself. “Yes. Absolutely, I’ll make him an appointment as soon as I can.”

Viviane smiled again, stopping to grab her purse where it sat by the floor of the couch and dropped her book inside. It was well loved, Nesta could tell, and for a moment, she considered asking what the pretty, young woman was reading.

And then she remembered who she’d been here alone with that morning.

Her eyes popped open. “Oh, gods, I hope Cassian was okay this morning. He’s not…always on his best behavior.”

Viviane brows bunched towards each other, confusion on her face. “I don’t follow?”

“I hope he didn’t say anything too inappropriate,” she rushed out. “He can be a bit much in the mornings, and-.”

“Oh, no, no,” Viviane interrupted, her crystalline eyes going wide. “No, he was an absolute gentleman. On good behavior.” She then added, “And please, don’t mistake my enthusiasm for this job, Nesta, I’m not interested in your husband or anything like-.”

It was Nesta’s turn to interrupt. “Husband?! No, no, Cassian isn’t my husband. Cauldron, no we just have to live together. He’s not even my boyfriend. I can barely stand the guy.”

Viviane hesitated. “Oh, I’m sorry, I just assumed-.”

“It’s alright,” Nesta said, and knew her cheeks were red. “I could see how it would be easy to make that assumption.”

Viviane nodded and rocked back on her heels, uncomfortably. “Right, well...I’ll see you all tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” Nesta said, trying her best to give a convincing smile.

She knew she was failing.

Convincing smiles weren’t her specialty.

But, husband? As if she would ever marry a man like Cassian. They may have had a moment where they didn’t absolutely loathe each other the night before, but that’s only because he was having a complete mental breakdown.

Nesta may be a bitch, but she wouldn’t kick a man when he’s already down.

Well, at least not in that situation. In a different set of circumstances, perhaps she would. 

Viviane let herself out and Nesta said her goodbyes, and shook her head.

Husband.

Oh, fuck no.

After a quick call to Nyx’s pediatrician, and an appointment made for the following afternoon, Nesta set out to make dinner. Nothing too crazy, just a new recipe she’d been toying with at the restaurant and she needed an unbiased opinion - one from someone whom she didn’t employ - to give her an honest opinion. She knew Cassian would be at the bar until eight-thirty or nine, but the chicken salad would be better chilled anyways.

Or she thought it was. She’d have to ask what he thought about that.

She was halfway through chopping up the roast chicken she’d spiced and marinated all day when the monitor to her left let out a lonely cry. Washing her hands, Nesta was hurrying up the stairs and found Nyx standing in his crib. He immediately reached for her, those blue eyes still drowsy with sleep, but Nesta knew he needed to be changed as soon as she got within sniffing distance. Hopefully he’d be sleepy enough that he wouldn’t fight her on the diaper change.

“What did Cassian feed you for lunch, kiddo?” She asked, scrunching her nose as she unsnapped the onesie he wore, and swapped out his diaper for a clean one.

True to Viviane’s word, Nyx had developed a splotchy, red rash on his bottom. After setting Nyx up in a swing by the door, Nesta took a few minutes to Google what a normal case of diaper rash looked like. Afterwards, she had wiped her search history and was thankful she’d gone ahead and called the pediatrician’s office, especially considering they were now closed until the following morning.

She also had to figure out a way to thank Viviane for her suggestion. Nesta almost felt like she owed the girl an apology for her initial reaction to her, based on her assumptions of Cassian. Not that she had any idea how Nesta had felt, but she still felt bad.

She may know a few things about Cassian Nazari, but she knew nothing about Viviane, not yet. Nesta should really give her the benefit of the doubt.

Even though such a thing was not her specialty.

The second they walked into the kitchen, Nyx was crying and reaching toward the fridge. Nesta put him in his high chair, letting him cry it out as she fixed him supper.

In the meantime, she dumped a pile of strawberry puffs on his tray.

He was immediately stuffing them into his mouth.

“You know, I’ve tasted those and they’re not all that great,” Nesta said, preparing him a small bowl of sweet potatoes.

Nyx looked at her and held up a star-shaped puff. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, but thank you for the offer.”

Nesta finished her salad and put the rest in the fridge for Cassian to eat once he got home. After taking a seat, and placing her salad and Nyx’s potatoes on the table, she dug in.

It was, obviously, delicious.

Nyx even seemed to be enjoying his sweet potatoes, though, as always more ended up on his high chair’s tray than in his mouth.

“You have an art for making a mess, buddy,” she said, shaking her head as she lifted another spoonful of the sweet potatoes to his mouth.

He took the bite into his mouth, and sprayed most of it back out in a raspberry.

She raised an eyebrow, setting the bowl down in front of her. “You’re just playing at this point, aren’t you?”

To say yes, in fact, he was, Nyx smacked a chubby hand into the mushed up mix of puffs and sweet potato on his tray.

“That means it’s bath time and then bed time,” she mused, wiping as much of him down as she could. She decided to go ahead and ditch his smeared onesie in the laundry room, and carried a diapered Nyx up to the bathroom.

A mostly uneventful bath later, she discovered Viviane must have been telling the truth about playing hard today. Nyx had been asleep before she’d made it through the second page of his favorite book, his pacifier falling out of his full, little lips.

She gently laid him down in the crib, and tiptoed downstairs to flip through bad reality TV until Cassian got home.

She hated how much she had thought about Cassian throughout the day. For once, it wasn’t about his body. Instead, it was about the fact that he had spent five minutes in her arms the night before, sobbing. She wasn’t sure what to think.

Cassian had a rough exterior. 

He was known for his good looks and how many women those looks attracted. Since Nesta met him five years prior, there were only a handful of things she could say about Cassian.

He was beautiful, but that much was obvious.

He knew how to make beautiful instruments, which meant he was good with his hands.

Nesta would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about just how good he was with those hands.

Lastly, Cassian was cocky as hell. He was hot. He knew he was hot. And he had to convince everyone who didn’t think he was hot that he was hot.

But, one thing that Nesta hadn’t known about Cassian until the night before?

He cared.

He really, really cared.

And he was scared.

She had been willing to put aside their differences for Nyx. They’d come to that agreement when he’d begun to depend on them. But now, she wanted to make things work…for him. He was terrified of letting Rhys down, something she understood. Every time she thought of something she may have done wrong, all she could think about was how disappointed Feyre would be in her.

Except…she knew that wasn’t true. Just like she knew that Rhys would never be disappointed in Cassian. The fact that he’d stepped up, had been willing to care for Rhys and Feyre’s only child…

She just had to make sure Cassian believed it.

Nesta was half asleep on the couch when the door unlocked and opened, Cassian walking through. He blinked once upon seeing her, clearly not having expected her to be downstairs when he got home.

“Hey,” she said, stretching. “How was your day?”

He tossed his keys on the table by the door, looking around, pointedly not looking at her. “It was good. Where’s Nyx?”

“He’s been down since seven-thirty or so, Viviane did great today,” she said, watching him as he walked into the kitchen. “I owe you an apology. You were right, she’s good.”

She heard a grunt of acknowledgment as the fridge opened. He came back into the living room, shaking up a bottled protein shake and cracking it open.

“I made a roasted chicken salad,” she said. “I put leftovers in the fridge for you.” “That’s okay,” he said, voice low. “You can take it to work with you tomorrow. Don’t want to take your food.”

Nesta blinked. “I put it in the fridge for you-.”

“I’m tired,” he said, heading toward the stairs. “Night.”

Nesta’s mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Cassian stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked over his shoulder. “What?”

I made you dinner. I stayed up to make sure you were alright. “Nothing. Just didn’t realize you were so insistent on being an asshole this evening.”

“An asshole?” he repeated. “I just got home, I’m tired, and now I’m an asshole?” 

Nesta just shook her head, falling back on the couch. “Nevermind. Goodnight.” 

Cassian just stood there, looking half like he wanted to go upstairs and half like he wanted to chuck the half-empty bottle at the back of her head. He’d already had a long, horrible day full of shitty, rude customers. He hadn’t even realized it was nearing Spring Break until the underage kids with shitty, fake ID’s had descended on the bar today. The amount of customers he had to turn away since they were practically children possibly outweighed the actual customers he and Kal had served.

He’d also had Nesta on his mind all day, on the pity she had to feel for him after he lost it the night before. The fact that she made him dinner was just proof of it, that he was right.

“You didn’t need to make me dinner,” he said, staring at the wall behind her head. “I can take care of myself, alright?”

Nesta’s eyes were closed, her arms crossed as she laid back on the couch. “I didn’t say that you couldn’t.”

“Just because I lost it for a minute last night, doesn’t mean that I’m helpless,” Cassian went on. “I’m just as capable of taking care of Nyx, of being a grown ass adult, as you are.”

Nesta’s eyes opened, then, and she slowly looked over to him. “Is that right?”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, simply.

“Really?” Nesta asked. “Because you’re acting like a gods damned child right now.”

Cassian snorted as he shook his head. “I don’t have the patience for you tonight. Goodnight.”

“You’re a real dick, you know that?” Nesta snapped.

“It’s all you think I’m good for, so I guess I may as well act like it, too,” he called out, not turning back to look at her.

The words struck her, made her feel two feet tall, especially considering how she’d begun to regard him instead. But she wasn’t able to stop the bite of her words as she snapped, “Oh, fuck you.”

Cassian didn’t say a word as he topped the stairs and headed down the hall.

She almost wished he’d slammed the door, almost wished he’d made a spectacle of being angry and shutting her out again, after what she’d thought may have been progress the night before. 

It was almost that much worse that his door shut with a soft click.

[italiangothicwriteblr]

Hi Joy!

For the soup asks, Clam Chowder, Chicken Noodle Soup, and Split Pea Soup, please! <3

~Morri🗡 (@memento-morri-writes)

Hi Morri! Thanks for the ask!

Clam Chowder: A scene that has special meaning to you

A lot of Nova's internal monologue scenes mean a lot to me, because I base them heavily off of my own feelings/struggles. I also really, really love my first chapter, because it was the first thing I wrote that I liked/was proud of.

Chicken Noodle Soup: Your favorite hurt/comfort scene

I haven't written it yet, but the scene in The King and the Fool where Niccolo scoops Enrico off the palace floor and comforts him about the whole "started a war" thing. It's just great because this character who is so principled and rule following is making an exception for the man he loves.

Split Pea Soup: The scene you found hardest to write

The fight scene between Enrico and Giacomo in Chapter 5. I tried to come up with something for Giacomo to do that would both warrant a punch, but not make him completely irredeemable. But the other concern was that, once Giacomo's full story is revealed, people would hate Enrico for the beating. The goal was to balance it out--I want the audience to still be able to like both of them after it.

I still don't know if I like it, but here it is--

He took an extended swig of drink, from a flask that he’d brought with him. Novellia didn’t know a person could consume that much alcohol at one time, but she felt a flash of awe that he clearly did not trust whatever Vecellio and Gallo were serving up. 

Gallo was in the corner of the room, and his eyes narrowed when he saw Enrico. He walked up to him, mocking smirk on his face, and said:

“Really, Enrico? Getting drunk in enemy territory? Do we want a repeat of what happened last time?”

Enrico looked momentarily haunted, and then his face twisted up in a hard sneer.

“Fuck off, Giacomo. Vecellio’s lap dog really thinks he has any moral high ground? You act superior, but don’t think anyone’s forgotten how you got dumped and it snowballed from there.”

“You killed your best friends, man. Not much is worse than that.”

The heat rose from Enrico’s heart to his flushed face. It wasn’t true. Arnoldo and Leandro died because of Giacomo Gallo. Enrico was not exactly innocent, but he wasn’t culpable like they all thought. Gallo’s taunts were all the more cruel because they were lies. A more articulate man might have said these things. But Enrico was not an articulate man, especially when drunk. 

Instead, Enrico snapped. His fist hit Gallo’s nose with a satisfying crack, and he was just getting started. When Gallo swung back, Enrico grabbed a silver candlestick from a nearby table and connected squarely with the top of Gallo’s skull. Gallo hit the ground and curled up, covering his face in a defensive posture. Enrico pulled the crown off his own head and pummeled Gallo’s back and shoulders.

He was like a tornado. The remala nobles stood witness in horrified shock, but not one of them was willing to jump in or interfere. 

Lombardo made an impotent attempt to pull Enrico off, but got an elbow in the throat for his trouble.

Gallo unsteadily rose to his knees and tried to crawl away, only for Enrico to kick and shove him toward the large, stone fountain at the center of the room. Water mixed with blood as he fell, the water ran pink  and Enrico screamed:

“You DO NOT mention them!” he roared, “you are not fit to say their names! Their blood is on your hands, and now it’s all over this room. They are gone because of you! You killed them!” 

Gallo shakily stood up, and with a smarmy, toothless, bloody smirk said:  

“You helped.”

Before Enrico could swing again, he and Gallo were pulled apart by two nobles who saw the break in the action as an opportunity to end the melee. 

The party soon died a natural death after that and Novellia decided that, no matter what the stories said, Imperatore Enrico was awesome and very likely innocent. 

[djarinbarnes]

me olvidarás - eight

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Warnings for the chapter: jealously, angst, smoking, talk about STD’s, cursing, bad coping mechanisms, 18+ smut, grinding, brief oral, fingering, vaginal sex, Javi’s dirty talk, biting, choking, two idiots.

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: hi. i hope you like this chapter. it was.... kinda hard to write, so I hope you like it!! as always, thank you to @mcngata​ for aiding me with the whole spanish thing. I love u boo!

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“¿Y qué tenemos aquí?”

You don’t know how to react to the woman standing in front of you. She’s just a little shorter than you, her tan skin slightly glistening from the heat outside. The swells of her breasts are bared, and her stomach is visible where her top doesn’t meet her short skirt. 

You pull your cardigan tighter around your body as she shoots daggers into you with her eyes. You gulp, holding the door as closed as you can to shield yourself from her prying eyes.

“Um… Excuse me?” You manage to croak out, and she lets out a laugh before she’s raising an eyebrow at you. You did understand some from the telenovelas you watched at home, but it was sparse and limited. She’s chewing on a piece of gum, and you watch as her red lips part slightly with every chew.

“¿Cómo te llamas?” She nods at you, and you chew on your lip, finally getting a hang on what she’s saying as she slows down. You tell her your name, and she lets out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest. “¿Y dónde ha recogido Javi a alguien como tú?”

You don’t know how to answer her, or if you even want to answer her, so you don’t. You shrug your shoulders, and you just know she’s enjoying your obliviousness. To protect yourself a little more you close the door a little further, shielding more of you from her. “Can I take a message?” You offer, and you watch as she laughs, her laugh full of viciousness and venom.

“Puedes decirle a Javi… ¿Que cuando deje de jugar con mojigatas, sabra donde encontrar una mujer de verdad?” You know exactly what she’s saying, but you also know that it probably isn’t the best idea to say anything at that moment, so you play dumb. She can see the confusion on your face, and she laughs at your expression. You didn’t like this woman one bit. You still wondered what she could possibly want with Javi.

“You tell Javi,” her voice is also overly sensual in English, her thick Spanish accent lingering in the words, making your heart pick up the pace. “That Helena is looking for him. I need to talk to him. He has my number,” she grins, popping a small bubble with the gum in her mouth before she turns on her heel with a wink, leaving you dumbfounded in the entryway of Javi’s apartment.

You spend the next few hours wondering who this Helena woman was, and how she knew Javi. You knew it probably wasn’t any of your business, yet you couldn’t help yourself. She was beautiful, a pretty little thing and you were sure everything was sitting right on her. Just looking at her for those short minutes, and with the confidence she carried, you were sure they had slept together. And more than once.

You stuff a full, cold enchilada into your mouth, not caring about the way you’re eating since you’re alone. You’re savoring the juicy chicken, holding the back of your hand against your mouth as you chew. You don’t know what’s come over you as you swallow everything down.

You had no idea why you felt this way about an encounter you’d had with this woman. Maybe you were just feeling possessive over Javi, which you had no reason for. It wasn’t like you were dating. You sigh and rub your hands over your face, resisting the urge to sob and cry out.

Glancing up at the clock you realize it’s nearing dinner time, and even though Javi hadn’t asked you to make dinner and even though you’re somewhat mad at him, you make your way to the kitchen to pull out a few pots and pans to make something for when he returns from the office.

You had no idea how long it took to file a report, but you figured it could easily be a drawn-out affair. You decided to leave at 8 if he weren’t home by then, to save you the trouble of coming face to face with him, after your flurry of thoughts and the internal struggle you’d had for the past hours.

You cast a look to into one of the cabinets from where you’ve seen Javi pick out a pack of cigarettes, and you give into the temptation of smoking one. You feel like the whole situation with Helena has made your heart pick up the pace so erratically, you need something to calm yourself down with, even though nicotine probably wasn’t the best antidote. With shaky hands you pull out one of the cigarettes before placing it between your lips, shortly after coming up with a lighter, holding the flame to the tip of it.

You know the first inhale is the worst, so you settle on just a short puff, drawing the smoke into your mouth and inhaling just the slightest of the fumes. With an exhale you realize it isn’t the worst taste or feeling in the world, so you bring the cigarette back to your lips, drawing in a bigger intake of the smoke. You feel it this time, and you cough just a bit at the burn in your lungs.

The taste isn’t the same as when you’ve tasted it on Javi’s tongue. It’s much stronger and harsh in your own mouth, especially since the filter is doing nothing for the tobacco. You look through his fridge and drawers, coming up with enough ingredients to make some chicken with veggies. The cigarette between your lips is disappearing quicker than you would’ve liked, but you figure you just must live with it.

With a sigh you stub out the butt into the ashtray, before you start making dinner. The chicken in browning on the pan, and you’re chopping up some carrots when you hear the door being pushed open, and you sigh in relief when you hear the heavy puff of air leaving Javi as he steps into the threshold. Casting a look at the clock, you find the time to be 7:43pm. Saved by the bell…

“Hey,” you say over your shoulder as you hear him put away his keys and jacket before he’s kicking off his shoes by the door. Then you hear his belt buckle coming undone before he discards it against the floor as well. You feel his arms come around your middle and you feel him tense up – and you know he can smell the nicotine on you, even though he smokes himself.

You decide on not mentioning it if he doesn’t initiate the conversation. “Could get used to this.” he breathes into your neck before he leaves a kiss on your shoulder, letting go of you to set the table. “It isn’t every day I eat a home cooked meal.”

“Was it alright at the office?” you decide to try and make small talk, Helena still nagging at the back of your mind. You weren’t going to bombard him with questions at the first given moment, mainly because you were hungry, but you figured it might be a sensitive topic to him. And on top of that, you didn’t even know what the two of you were, and ultimately, it wasn’t your business.

“It was… like it usually was. Boring and the director was yelling my ear off for the documents being incorrectly filed…” He sighs as he recalls the way he pushed the files off the table to ravage you on his desk like a horny teenage boy. “I managed to sort it all and file the report, though.”

“Oh. That’s good.” You keep it at that, and Javi realizes you’re acting very differently from when he left that very morning. He figured you were acting differently the moment he entered the apartment, since you didn’t come to greet him at the door, like he’d hoped you would have. He’d imagined so many things while at work, and every thought had alighted something inside him.

The first thought had roamed his thoughts as he’d gotten into his car, the way you’d straddled him in the very seat he was now sitting in, and he felt the blood rush to his lower regions. Then he’d somehow heard the sounds you’d let out that very morning when he’d both fucked you and eaten you out right after.

God damn, he wanted to go back into his apartment and take you on every surface, but he knew the odds weren’t in his favor. It was both the world and the director of the DEA that was on and against his ass, even though he was still technically on leave. The problem with the director was, that when she asked you to jump you didn’t say yes or no, but how high.

He even had to excuse himself and act on his arousal a few hours into the paperwork, feeling like a teenage guy yet again as he jerked himself off in the stall to the thought of you. He didn’t know what’d come over him – he just felt the arousal clouding his mind at every moment he was awake, and especially when you were around him.

Yet now it felt off. He didn’t even know why you were acting so differently, since everything seemed to be so comfortable and enthralling when he left. Where he earlier felt like you looked at him like he was the only man in the world, it now felt like the two of you were in the last stage of a relationship, just before parting ways.

Like Javi hadn’t faced a situation like that before. Falling out of love was never easy no matter who it was with and how long it had been. He hadn’t even made his own mind up yet, about the whole situation with you. Everything was moving along so quickly; he had a hard time keeping up. Especially every time he reconsidered your age.

You heard him say your name and you turned off the stove, before turning your head to look at him for the first time since he entered the apartment. “What’s going on?” his voice is full of something you can’t place, and you really do contemplate on either lashing out or doing it in a calm way. You know that no matter what he says, you’re going to overthink it.

“Helena came by.” The moment the words and her name leave your mouth you see his Adams apple bop as he swallows past a sudden lump that has formed in his throat. “She was very intent on you finding a real woman, possibly her, when you were done screwing around with a prude like me.”

You watch as his brows furrow, and you feel your eyes fill with tears. You turn around immediately, not wanting to show him just  how much her words hurt you. You hear him breathe out your name along with a hermosa, and you let out a sob. You really didn’t want to admit how much of an impact her words had had on you.

“Helena?” her name falls from his lips reluctantly, like he can’t believe what you’re telling him. “Helena was here?” You can her the anger in his voice, and you nod while wiping your eyes. You hear him come closer to you, and you flinch when he reaches out to touch you. “Did she say anything else than that?”

“She just asked how I knew you.” You sniff, and you feel his arms come around you again, pulling you into his warm embrace. You know you should probably give in and wrap your arms around him, but you just can’t bring yourself to do it. What if he was seeing his Helena woman as well? What if he was having sex with someone else, while he was having sex with you?

You suddenly feel dirty. It dawns on you that you and Javi haven’t used protection at all while you’ve been having sex, and you feel your head going through every emotion all at once. Fear of you contracting something from him. Anger of him leading you on. Disgust with the thought of him having sex with someone else.

Sadness from the mean words Helena has spoken to you. And sadness in the form of you trusting Javi, and him proving that you probably shouldn’t have. You have a hard time focusing on anything at the moment, and you know your body is protecting you from a possible anxiety attack. You know the signs by now, and with the rapid rise and fall of your chest and the blackening before your eyes, you know it’s close.

“I haven’t seen Helena in months, not since…” He trails off, and even though you should probably believe him, you have a hard time doing so. You don’t know what to think at this point. “Come on, I’ll explain it to you.” He takes a hold of your hand and leads you to the couch, where he pushes you down on the soft cushions of the leather couch. He sits down beside you, with a few inches separating you. You appreciate the gesture.

“She’s one of my informants at the embassy,” he starts, and you immediately imagine a hundred things in your mind at once. Informant? Informing him about what? “DEA stands for Drug Enforcement Administration. We’re working towards catching some of the more… hardheaded drug lords in this country.”

It doesn’t catch up to you before now. The bullet wound to his shoulder – your thought about him chasing bad guys… It all clicks right at that moment. The man in front of you chases dangerous criminals for a living. “If you want to know things about them…” He sighs deeply before revealing the next part to you. “I figured you have to hang around the same people they do.” He’s reluctant to add the last part, but when he does you don’t feel much better. “The same women they do.”

“So, she’s a whore?” you hate the word, but you also hate the woman who was at Javi’s door a few hours ago, so you have no problem calling her the profanity. You watch as he nods, his teeth tugging his bottom lip in between them. “Are you…” you have a hard time asking him, but you know you must, considering you haven’t exactly been safe with him. “Clean?”

Javi’s eyebrows furrow at your question, the whole change of subject unsettling him for a second before he catches up. “Yeah.” It’s nothing more than that, so you raise your eyebrows at him. “I usually… use protection with the… informants.” You almost wish he would just say the word, as it if would make you feel better. It kind of feels like he’s sparing himself from the reality of the occupation the women have, and it makes you even sadder.

“Good.” You leave it at that before you rise, walking back over to the stove to reheat the food you were making when he came home. You can’t stop thinking about the information he’s just shared with you, but you also just want to forget she was ever there and that you could just go back to the happy little bubble you and Javi were in that morning.

“You don’t wanna hear the rest of the story? Why she’s coming here, knocking on my door?” Javi speaks to your back, and it really does feel like he’s just talking to a wall. It’s like his words peel off of you, like water on a brick wall. You feel sort of… emotionless about the situation.

“Maybe later.” It’s all you can muster at the moment, not really wanting to sympathize with the whore. Somehow, you just know Javi is and always will be a womanizer. His look, his attitude, the whole way he carries himself. It’s a match made in heaven.

You finish the dinner with your back to Javi, sensing the heavy smell of nicotine lingering in the air from where Javi is still sitting on the couch, puffing at a cigarette. You move the pots and pans to the table before you walk over to where Javi is sitting, his hands rubbing at his forehead while the lit cigarette is resting in the ashtray in front of him.

You lift it to your lips and take the last drag, before stubbing it out right in front of him. “Dinner is ready.” You tell him, your exhale full of smoke before you turn on your heel, grabbing two beers from his fridge. You watch as he rises from the couch, his eyes on you as you open the two beers before sitting down opposite of where he’s still standing.

No words are spoken between the two of you as you eat, and for the first time, the silence between the two of you is deafening. The space between the two of you is filled with uncertainty and unspoken words as you both fill your mouths. Javi rises in the middle of dinner to retrieve two additional beers from the fridge, and you hear the clinking of the bottles as he removes the caps.

He stands beside you as he sets the newly opened beer beside your empty bottle before the hand previously containing the bottle rests against the expanse of your shoulder. You draw both your lips into your mouth and close your eyes as you feel the warmth of his palm seeps into your skin from on top of your clothes.

“Hermosa.” You feel as his hands move, and when you open your eyes, he’s placed himself on the seat beside you. “You need to know.” You turn your body slightly, urging him to try his luck. “Helena…” you the sound of her name spilling from his lips makes your heart pound faster in your chest.

The emotions encapsulated in his brown eyes are unlike anything you’ve ever seen on him before. You can see the internal struggle he’s fighting at the moment, and something tells you it’s not easy for him to… tell you what he’s about to tell you.

“A few weeks ago, Helena was… kidnapped. And what they did to her, the men…” It’s like the whole incident replays before his eyes as he tries to find the right words to phrase anything. “It wasn’t good. I found her there, naked, molested by those men.”

Javi bites the inside of his cheek as he, again, searches for words. “Since… then, she’s been seeking me out frequently. Whereas it was previously me that sought her out, it was like the tables had turned. She got… obsessed with me. I don’t know why.” Your eyes shoot down as you sense movement, and you watch as he reaches for your hand. Reluctantly, you let him.

“Listen, I don’t know what I’m going to do about it. She obviously doesn’t understand a no.” You bite your lip, still not wanting to look at him, just to keep him at an arm’s length. “Hermosa, I swear I…” With everything Javi has just told you, you still don’t know how to feel about it. On one hand, you want to slap him, even though it’s not his fault.

A few minutes pass in silence, where neither of you make the moves to neither move nor speak. You let your tongue clean the outside of your teeth, contemplating on whether to take another sip of your beer or actually talk to Javi. You let out a breath before looking back up at him. His eyes are trained on you, watching you like you were the most important thing in the world at that moment.

“Sounds like you’ve got some serious lady troubles, Javi.” The sound he lets out is something between a snort and a laugh. You can barely contain your own laughter as Javi practically doubles over on top of you in a fit of tears and laughter. All the anger you’d held in for the previous hours had disappeared and had simply been replaced with… or gone back to affection.

When he pulls back, his eyes are full of tears from the laughter he’d just let out. You lick your lips and smile when he finally stops laughing. “Please forgive… whatever that was. Forgive me.” You nod before he leans into your personal space, nudging your chin up with his nose before leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

You pull him closer by the neck, nuzzling your fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck as you slide your lips over his. It feels good to have your lips back on his. No matter how much you’d wanted to punch him in the face not more than an hour ago, that had all dispersed when he’d actually opened his mouth.

“You’re not…” he sighs. “Mad. Are you?” he breathes against your lips, and you suppress a small smile playing on your lips. You shake your head slightly, before you breathe a soft no against his lips. Without saying anything, his lips find yours again, more eagerly this time.

With a fall of his hands to your hips, he’s swiftly getting on his knees before you, pulling your loose-fitted pants down your legs swiftly, his arms quickly spreading your legs on either side of his hips before pulling you close to him and into his lap. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling slightly at the strands, drawing a moan from his lips and into your mouth.

You feel every thought you’ve been overthinking during the day go out the window when he grinds himself up into you, letting you feel his hardened cock. Every common sense within you is telling you to stop, telling you to leave while you still can, yet your body isn’t complying at all. That, and your own mind is fighting itself as his lips move down your throat.

You throw your head back to give him more access, whimpering as his mustache and lips grazes against your sensitive pulse point. You feel heat bloom in your core, spreading from your abdomen and throughout your body. Your toes are tingling by the time his lips reach your collarbones, your fingers trembling as you hold onto the back of his neck.

His hands move on their own accord as he pushes your cardigan off your shoulders before he’s detaching his lips from your skin, swiftly pulling off your shirt before reattaching them to the bared skin of the swell of your breast. His fingers are soft as they trail up the expanse of your spine before he snaps the clasp of your bra open before pulling it off your arms.

He grunts against your skin as he ruts his hips up into yours, one hand grasping the back of your neck gently while the other holds your hip tightly. He places a constellation of kisses against your bare breasts, twirling his tongue around the perked bud, drawing a moan from your lips.

“Come, turn around.” His voice is hoarse from arousal as he speaks before he rises on his knees slightly. You get off his lap and turn on your knees, and you lay your chest against the chair you were previously sitting on with a push of his hand to your shoulder.

You brace yourself against the seat of the chair, feeling as the fabric of your panties are slid down your hips. You hold in a breath as you feel his exhale on the globes of your ass, your exhale shaky as your feel his tongue gently slides in between the lips of your pussy.

You have no idea how something so carnal can feel so good, but you’re not going to be the one to complain. You whimper as his warm hands spread your cheeks apart to give him more access to your pussy before he delves further into your folds, burying his tongue within your heat.

“You taste so damn good.” You hear him speak between his tongue flicking at your clit and fucking you with it. You whimper as he pushes a finger into your slick heat, curling it downwards to the front of your cunt. With every thrust of his finger and every moan spilling from your lips, he grins against your skin as he moves his lips to the globe of your butt cheeks.

You feel his teeth sink into your skin before he kisses his way up the back of your ass, all the way up to between your shoulders. His fingers retract themselves from your heat and you feel him shift behind you, you hear his groan from behind you and you assume he’s cleaning his fingers with his mouth all while pushing his pants down.

There’s something about seeing you bent over a chair like this that ignites something inside him. Seeing you so bared and vulnerable and spread out – just for him. His cock twitches at the sight of your clenching pussy in front of his eyes.

“Please…” He grips your hips as you push back against him, urging him to get on with what you’re expecting him to do. You hear his low grunt in your ear as he pushes against your opening, causing you to let out a whimper. You grind your hips back again, whimpering as the head of his cock fills you just the slightest.

Not even a second passes until he’s burying himself to the hilt within you, causing you to let out a throaty whine. His hand comes around to grasp your throat, his fingers tightening just the slightest around the column of your neck.

“More, move please, Javi.” You whimper, his grip cutting off your air supply gently as he starts thrusting his hips into yours rapidly. His pace is unrelenting as he ruts his hips into yours, your whimpers and moans begging him for more.

“Te gusta eso, eh?” his voice is low in your ear mixed with his grunts and the feel of his teeth sink into your shoulder. You whimper at the many feelings coming over you all at once, mixed with the deep voice, full of arousal. “Sí… Sí, lo haces…”

“Javi…” you whimper, your hand coming up to grasp the back of his neck as the other clings to the leg of the chair. You felt as the hand on your hip slid to the front of your body, his fingers sliding through the wetness practically dripping from your core and onto the floor.

Javi coaxed at your nub while still withholding the pace he had set, swiftly pinching your clit to feel you clench around him. The hand on your throat made its way into your hair, fingers tightening in it, turning it into a makeshift ponytail before pulling your head back harshly.

Your back is pulled roughly against his front, his hips still driving in and out of you as his fingers continue their assault on your bundle of nerves. Your slick is just about dripping down the insides of your thighs and your chest is heaving violently at the inability to even put together a sentence.

“Estas tan caliente por mi, goteando por todo mi jodido piso…” his lips are right at your ear as he speaks, and he grunts as you clench around him. His thrusts become erratic as he pushes his fingers against you faster, quicker, almost demanding you to cum with his actions.

You want to cum desperately, you need to cum on his cock, just as much as he needs you to explode around him like you did that very morning. Just the thought of the events of the day brings something out in Javi – something that makes him even more keen on drawing you to the edge.

Maybe it’s anger, or maybe it’s just possessiveness overcoming him as he feels you soak his cock even more. You let out a scream, your walls clutching his cock ever so tightly everything blackens before his eyes. He sinks his teeth deep into your shoulder as he empties himself into your begging heat.

You go slack against him as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolls over you, yet the feel of his arms around you makes the violent trembling in your body seem like the most amazing thing in the world. His chest is warm and sweaty against your back, and his breaths come out as deep puffs against your skin.

You turn slightly and push your lips against his, feeling a drop of sweat from his forehead land against your cheek as he kisses you with relentlessness. “Didn’t…” you breathe, his arms wrapping tighter around your middle. “think of you…” he’s intent in his kisses by now, not wanting to be separated from you at that moment.

“As the possessive type.” You finally manage to breathe, and you feel how he tenses up against you. You let out a short laugh as he pulls out and away from you, huffing as he pulls his pants back up from around his knees. You raise your eyebrow at him as he grunts while standing, his hand resting just above his knee as he stretches his legs.

“I’m not possessive.” He huffs again, licking and biting his lips as he watches you shift on the floor. He can see the mixture of your cum pooling on his floor as you continue sitting on your knees, your legs spread slightly. You let out another laugh before standing, pulling him close by the neck boldly.

“Yeah you are. But you’re also afraid.” You turn and pick all of your discarded clothes off the floor before putting them on. You know he’s watching you, you can almost feel the holes his eyes are burning into your body as he gulps.

“Afraid of what?” he tries softly, and you barely hear it. You turn to him as you pull your cardigan on before crossing your arms over your chest. You watch as he mimics your stance – crossing his arms over his chest as he raises his eyebrow at you.

Ever since he shared the details of… whatever had happened with Helena, you’d known instantly. There was not much to say to it though, because with the knowledge you’d gained from reading your novels… That much you knew. You knew the signs, and they were clearly visible in the man standing right in front of you.

“You’re afraid of love.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

next chapter

[onlydreamofmysoul]

The new (and last 😭)sweater weather chapter put this situation in my head and I don’t have the talent to make it real:

How would Remus react after he learns he can be a player on the team? and how does the rest of the team react? and how does the media react? and what does Sirius say? and what is his first game like? And what does Jules and his family think? AND AND AND ????

Of course u don’t have to do anything and I adore your writing just thought I would share some of my frantic ramblings.

I’m getting lots of ones like these! My brain has been spinning with so many ideas but one that stuck with me were Remus’ old superstitions.

Characters and their wonderful world by @lumosinlove

Half Sheer Dumb Luck

Calf stretches before thigh

Remus just stared at coach Weasley.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’d like to offer you a place on the team.”

Remus wasn’t sure he could trust himself to blink, never mind talk. “Is this a joke?”

Arthur stepped forward, his face calm and reassuring. “Remus, no, of course not. I’m your friend. I wouldn’t do that to you. We, all of us, the organisation, the team, we’ve reviewed your tapes. We’ve seen you play. And we want you on the team.”

“The team knows.” It was a statement, not a question. 

Arthur nodded.

“Sirius knows.”

He nodded again.

“This is real?”

Arthur smiled as he nodded this time. “As real as me standing here right now.”

“I’ll have to be ready.” Remus’ hands were shaking. “There’s so much to do.”

Coach stepped forward and placed his hand on Remus’ shoulder. “Yeah, there is. But I don’t think there’s a better man up for the job.”

“Oh my god.” Remus thought his knees were going to give way.

Arthur grinned and pushed Remus away from him lightly. “Now go talk to your boy. Not being able to tell you has been killing him.”

Remus nodded and walked away in a daze. Sirius was right where he left him, chatting to Thomas and Noelle. He smiled when he saw Remus.

“He… he wants me to join the team?”

Thomas let out a whoop. “Loops knows!”

The tent went up in cheers but Remus could only see Sirius.

“Is.. Would that be okay for you?”

Sirius frowned, pulling Remus right up against his chest. “Would that be okay? Oh my love, there’s nothing in the world that I would love more.”

Remus laughed, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “I’m going to be on the Lions.”

Sirius kissed him, slow and filled with love. “You already are.”

“I’m going to have to train non-stop.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You’ll train over the summer?” Remus asked disbelievingly. Sirius kissed his forehead, then his nose and finally his lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”

The rest of the team then decided they had enough waiting and piled on, a massive group hug in the middle of the wedding reception, Remus right in the centre.

Two bottles of water on the bench.

“Mom, I have some news.” Remus said over the video call, his voice shaking. He could practically see his mother looking at his hand to see if there was a ring.

“It’s not that mom jeez, can you grab dad and Jules too?”

Remus waited until they were all together for him to speak again.

“So, the Lions organisation found my old tapes.” He began, “They started looking after they saw me play at family skate.”

Jules was just listening, bouncing in his seat waiting for Remus to get to the point. His mother looked concerned, but his father looked, almost knowing.

Remus swallowed, wishing he could tell them in person - he and Sirius were visiting next week but Remus needed to tell them in order for it to feel real. He was glad he was sitting on the couch at home, he needed some sense of normality.

“I’ve been asked to join the Lions.”

“I don’t understand. You already work with the Lions?”

“No mom, not as staff. I’ve been asked to join. As a player.”

Julian let out a whoop so loud Remus might have heard it without a phone. “Re, did you say yes? You had to say yes, please tell me you said yes!”

Remus laughed, nodding his head. “Of course I said yes.”

Hope promptly burst into tears and there was a definite pool forming in his dad’s eyes.

“Oh Re,” His mother breathed, “Oh my darling this is so, so wonderful.”

“No one deserves this more than you.” His dad was saying. “I am so proud.”

“Re does that mean I get to come to all of your games! Oh my god, you’ll be famous! I mean, you’re already famous, but you’ll be more famous! Re! You’ll be rich!”

Remus burst out laughing, looking around at the ridiculously large house he was in already, “I don’t think I need the money Jules.” While his mother rolled her eyes.

Julian gasped as another thought flew into his head. “Remus! I need to get your jersey!”

Sirius walked into the room, and perked up, “Oui! We need your jersey Re!”

Remus covered his face with his hands. “I don’t even have a jersey.”

“Yet.” Sirius corrected, curling up next to him and kissing his cheek. “You don’t have a jersey yet.”

Right foot first to step onto the ice.

“Es-tu prêt?” Sirius asked as they stood outside the locker room. Remus took a deep breath in.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The clamour of the locker room was deafening, but Remus wouldn't have it any other way.. He nearly cried laughing when he saw that Nado and Kuny had decorated his new stall with pictures of Sirius, all copied and printed from social media with edits of Sirius shirtless and captions and endless heart-eyed emojis. He hugged Leo who was in the stall next to him and when he sat down to lace up his skates, he relished the feeling that he was part of the team. Because he was part of the team now, really and truly.

He met the new PT - Dorcas, with whom he knew he’d become fast friends. He also set about telling her all the ins and outs of working with the boys, their little superstitions, their tells when they were lying about their injuries. She just smiled and thanked him and told him to kindly fuck off and enjoy his first day, he could tell her all this another time.

The boys made a big show of letting Remus be the first out onto the ice (After you my good man) and while Remus rolled his eyes and smacked the back of a few heads playfully (Finn, Thomas and James), this was the moment he had waited for all of his life.

Right foot first, he stepped onto the ice.

Pasta and marinara before home games,

“Loops, what are you doing? I told you I would cook before your first game!”

Remus smiled and tilted his head up to kiss his boyfriend, placing both hands on his chest. “Baby, I love you, but you can cook precisely three dishes, and this isn’t one of them.”

Sirius pouted. “Your mom is teaching me.”

Remus nodded, “I know, that’s the only reason you can make those three dishes.”

Sirius shook his head smiling but he kissed Remus, nipping his bottom lip playfully.

“Are you nervous?”

“Terrified.”

“You’ll be incredible.”

“And if I’m not.”

Sirius kissed him. “If you’re not well then,” Sirius shrugged with one shoulder, “Then you try again next time. What was it a wise man once said? You always have more than one shot.”

Remus scrunched his nose. “That makes me sound like an old man.”

“A sexy old man.” Sirius commented and Remus just groaned. “Oh my god get out of here.”

Chicken and broccoli before away.

“Ha!” Sirius exclaimed when Remus walked into the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of his boyfriend cooking. “Je prépare le dîner ce soir.”

“... You don’t know how to make this one.”

Sirius put a hand to his chest in a wounded gesture. “You think I would give you food that is not good on a game day? Mon loup, how little faith you have.”

Remus felt a smile playing on his lips. “So you’ve magically learned how to cook?”

Sirius shook his head. “Non, that wouldn’t be magic, that would be a miracle. I have however, been taking lessons from your mother. Secret face-time lessons, when you’re out. I’m getting quite good.”

“You’ve been taking secret fact-time cooking lessons from my mother?”

Sirius nodded and held out a spoon for Remus to try. Remus dodged the spoon and kissed him instead. “I love you.”

Eggs morning of, pancakes after a win

“So,” Remus said, stepping into the locker room. “Who’s up for some pancakes?”

The roaring affirmative made Remus laugh before a warm weight barrelled into him.

“Hi Jules!”

Jules had taken to wearing both Remus and Sirius’ jersey at the same time to games, because he apparently couldn’t choose a favourite. He alternated between which one he wore on the outside. Today, it was Remus’, with LUPIN splashed across the back, the number 6 bold in the centre.

“Can I come get pancakes too?”

Sirius appeared behind Julian and threw him up into the air before setting him back on his feet, Jules giggling the whole time. 

“We could never get pancakes without my favourite Lupin!”

“Hey!” Remus protested, but he looked at Julian’s set of jerseys and smiled. 

“I suppose you can have two favourites.”

Finn, walking by, cupped his hands to his mouth. “Preach!”

Drag the puck around the crease twelve times.

“Hey Loops, are you coming to stretch?”

Remus smiled at James. “I’ll be over in a second Pots, I just have to do something first.”

James nodded and went to skate away before pausing. “Wait!” He looked at Remus sheepishly. “Blue?”

Remus shook his head fondly. “You’re so lucky I knew you’d ask for that.” He said ducking to grab a bottle of blue Gatorade he had taken from the kitchen for exactly this purpose. “Love you Fruit Loop!”

“Not as much as me, I hope.” Sirius commented as he stepped out onto the ice. “You coming?”

Remus shook his head. “Just gotta, you know.”

“Skate around the crease twelve times.” Sirius smirked. “I thought you weren’t superstitious.”

Remus flushed a dark red. “I’m not! But I’m not going to risk it either!” He laughed when he realised Sirius was teasing him and pushed him away lightly.

“Oh shove off, you can’t say anything.”

Sirius just continued to smirk at him as he skated backwards. “Love you too.”

Remus looked around the packed stadium as the anthem played and he pressed his star necklace to his lips. Looks like he had another tradition.