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nightdivinity · 1 year ago

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Drink Responsibly: Chapter 1

ABO!Vampire!Batfam x reader

Minors! Do! Not! Engage! +18 only!

Platonic!Alfred, Bruce x reader, Possessive! Batboys x reader

Warnings: Bad life choices, possessive behavior, a/b/o, they're vampires, loooong age gaps, no proofreading, reverse harem.

Writer's Note: I am so tired. I exist only because of caffeine and spite. So here you go, Chapter 2 is done as well. It will come out Friday hopefully.

Grey eyes stare into yours as you try your hardest to not squirm under the intensity. How did you get to be where you are? You have no clue. Honestly, there shouldn’t have been a callback. You should not have landed this opportunity for the second interview. The initial screening process should have weened you out in the first place.

From what you had gathered from the chatty chauffeur in the town car, (the town car! They knew you had no car to get to Wayne Manor, let alone to your job. Yet they still sent you someone to go pick you up from your ratty apartment.) This was all ordained by someone much higher than Mr. Pennyworth in front of you. The talk with the chauffeur had almost put you at ease until you looked out the window and saw the heavy iron gate open to Wayne Manor’s winding driveway. There’s no doubt in your mind. You shouldn’t be here. In more ways than one.

It made your bandages itch the more you thought about it. You couldn't scratch them like the feral animal you were deep down inside. At least, not when you're being as heavily scrutinized as you are now.

“I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into my dear.”, the butler says.

“I want this job.”

He sighs then and reaches for the cup of tea sitting on the table next to him. When you got to the Manor, Mr. Pennyworth had met you at the front step. He still ushered you through a side entrance and a winding set of narrow hallways until you reached the sitting room you were now in. Not that you were complaining about being treated like a servant when you were trying to like hell to land the job.

If ever there was an excellent place to kill someone, this was it. You find yourself thinking as you look away from him and study the art on the walls. The manor itself was far removed from society and the small windowless study with the ornate crackling fireplace was oppressive as much as it was impressive. No one would ever hear you scream.

“The issue is not a matter of want. The issue is a matter of need.”, he says.

You watch him take a sip as a bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck. It was getting too hot in here, and the bandage around your wrist was itching.

“I need it. No one wants to hire me”, You reply.

You’re not sure what you expect after you say that. Half of you were expecting him to start grilling you like he did during your interview two days ago. That one had taken place in daylight, in an ostentatious conference room at Wayne Enterprise's.

You were still waiting for him to pick you to the bone and say, “Why is that?”. The other half feels like the admittance makes you guilty. Guilty of going out that night. Guilty of getting caught in a crowd surge while blackout drunk. Guilty of the infected thralls that were unleashed by the Scarecrow goons. Guilty of killing the infected that had started ripping you to pieces. Not that you remember any of it, frustratingly enough. No one, not even the news, gave enough information on that night. Why was I there?

“How are you doing dear?” Pennyworth asks.

You blink. No one has asked that yet. Not by anyone that you feel genuinely wants to know the answer.

“Good. Sore, and I believe honesty is the best policy. I can’t dance like I used to.”, you joke.

It falls flat in the cramped space as you give him a tight grin. His grey eyes dart momentarily to the crutch that was resting next to the chair, and to the cast going slightly above your knee.

“Yes, honesty is such an important quality nowadays. Might I say, it is fortunate that you survived.”

“No one else thinks that. I’m just thankful that Duke was there. I was told he was the one that got me to the hospital. Now he’s gone and got me this interview.”

It’s funny. Time from that night seems disjointed. While you were black-out drunk, you do feel as though you were only in the club for five minutes. The attack happened at 12:45 am. You remember waking up in the hospital and finding your chart on your way to the bathroom. It said you were admitted at 2 am. The next time you managed to grab it, it had said 12:59 am. Not to mention your wounds were healing at a faster rate than most Omegas. Something was picking deep inside your skull.

“Luckily this job is not strenuous if you are up to the task.”

You nod at him. You need this.

“Well, there are rather strict rules. Breaking them is a breach of contract that will be handled severely. This isn’t like a regular job out there. Any problems that arise will not result in a simple firing.”, he pauses before continuing, “For example, personal electronic devices are prohibited in the Manor. Your bags will be thoroughly checked by me upon arrival. You will be allowed devices that are monitored by security.”

“I can’t just be cut off from my family”, you protest.

“We don’t want you to. You may make phone calls during your allotted time off. They will happen here, or in Master Bruce’s office with either him or me in the room. Your predecessor was fond of skirting her duties and we have found the need for such restrictions.”

“While excursions are discouraged, they are not prohibited. We will go over those security measures at a later time. You are to be readily available when called upon at any time they require something. While day workers are employed here, at no point are you allowed to interact with them.”

You can’t help the way your brows furrow. This was going to be a long year if you were to take this opportunity. With each rule, you wondered if this was why the position was empty for so long.

“I tend to the bedrooms, and at no point should you enter them unless invited by the occupant. You will be given a room as well, and I would appreciate cleanliness. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all served at the same time, tardiness is prohibited.”

“Will I be helping in the kitchen?”, you ask.

“No. Not unless you want to, if you are going to cook, please notify me accordingly.”

“So, wait. I’m confused. Just what is my job here?”

Alfred sighs and for the first time since you’ve met the prim and proper gentleman, he seems a bit haggard. Which did not make you feel good.

“It gets awful lonely here in the manor. As I’m sure you are aware, Alphas live for a long time. Particularly ones infected such as those in Wayne Manor. Now and then it is refreshing to have something that brings more life into such a place. The children have taken an interest in you, and that is enough for Master Bruce.”

“I’m not a toy.”

“No. You’re fortunately not. What you are being offered is room and board, all you have to do is adhere to the rules. In exchange, you have to be a friend. Surely you know how to do that”?

If he had asked your friend, he’d have been met with a resounding no. After that night you had found yourself crippled in the hospital with no friends to speak of. Your friend had been peeved, rightfully so, that you had just packed their wasted butt into a car with a stranger. You had been miffed because hello?? They weren’t the ones chomped on by a deranged rabid Beta. They had made it home in one piece, even getting past the front door and into their bed. Both of you had been wasted, so why act like it was all your fault? You were getting tired of the world treating you like you were the root cause of life’s issues.

“I won’t be doing any of that”, you ask.

Now he just looked downright uncomfortable. You were almost embarrassed, but the question needed to be asked. Being hired to be a friend to Alphas that were at least a century old likely resulted in you waking up in a bed that’s not yours.

“Only if you consent to it. You won’t be reprimanded for not doing it, or if you do find yourself in that position.”, he clears his throat, “Healthcare and dental is provided. Due to your circumstances as an Omega, blockers will be provided along with your daily vitamins. Your health and safety is paramount to us.”

You had nothing more to say. Silently you sat there, running through any alternative options, and yet you kept hitting a wall. There was no denying it, this was the best option you could be given. All you had to do was smile and nod and make it a year. By then you should be able to get your feet back underneath you and be able to reassess your situation. Who knows? You might just like it.

“I’m going to say, you have a deal”, you smile at him.

“Then please, call me Alfred.”

He gets up then and holds a hand out to you to help you out of your chair. His smile back is warm, creases folding up from his eyes, a drastic change from the cold persona that you had started becoming accustomed to.

“Shall I call for the town car Ms. (L/N)?”

This was the start of a beautiful friendship, you decided. You nod your head as he pulls you up and gives you a brisk but friendly pat on the shoulder.

“Duke, you don’t have to do this”, you protest.

It was the thirteen-hundredth time you’ve said it. When Alfred closed the interview, he had taken the time to walk you to the front door, pointing out so many rooms that it all went over your head. You almost made it to the front. Then Duke saw you and took over from there.

“No, no, and for the last time, stop. I want to do it”, Duke grins up at you.

He was on the floor, taping up the last of your boxes. You hate to admit it, but you’re not sorry in the slightest as he does all the heavy lifting. The best part about it was getting to see all the muscles in his back when he turned around. Yum. Hey, you were a red-blooded Omega. There were just some things you couldn’t fight.

“Be careful not to break that”, you warn.

“Right, because what will the world do without these little tchotchkes?”, Duke laughs.

Somehow, not surprisingly, he dodges the stray crutch that you toss half-heartedly in his direction. At this point, he was used to you trying to weaponize your “mobility aide”.

It all started when he helped you get back to your apartment, in a wheelchair that he bought. Then he abandoned said wheelchair and carried you bridal style up several flights of stairs. Citing that the elevator was too dangerous because it hadn’t been inspected in the past decade. Even ignoring you when you told him that it would be far more likely for both of you to fall to your death in the stairwell. This was all two weeks ago, and he still refuses to use the elevator.

He was on the floor now, humming and throwing your shit in boxes. You weren’t sure how he did it. When you agreed to the move, you had been internally wincing and panicking. Thinking it was just going to be you, hopping pitifully around the room. Probably taking breaks and reminiscing over the stray artifacts of your life. You would’ve needed at least three days max to get packed. Duke cut it down to two hours.

“Sooooooooo”, you draw out, “Tell me about the others.”

“There’s not much to say, not a lot that I can either way. What do you want to know?”

Your eyes narrow as he turns weirdly evasive. He always got a little cagey when you brought up his adoptive family. Never quite answering the question.

“What are they like? Are they nice?”, you ask.

He pauses and stands, turning his back to you so he can put a box on the trolley. We’re going to take the elevator. You thought with a smug sort of glee at the realization. That means you’ll be in your wheelchair. See, you’re slowly reclaiming your independence. Sort of.

“Um. Cass is really nice, but you won’t see her often. Same with Steph. They both kind of do their own thing and no one lives at home besides Alfred, Bruce, and me. Though that might change.”

He pauses again. You stick your tongue out at his back only for him to whirl around to face you. Quickly you snap it back in and try to appear innocent as you stare up. Ew. Popcorn ceiling. You wonder for a second if you could have asbestos in your lungs from that.

“Dick, I mean Grayson, he oversees the training of the Alpha taskforce in Bludhaven. Jason avoids Bruce like the plague while doing the most to get his attention, and I can't really get into what he does for a living. You don't want to know. Tim lives and breathes at Wayne Enterprise’s various global sectors, some of the time, he’s the hardest to track. Damian has been somewhere in Pakistan. Where? I don’t know. I would avoid him and Jason if at all possible. Not that you'll likely see them."

You had to smother your cry of relief. This was going to be a lot easier than you thought. There were only going to be three people that you had to worry about. Maybe you were going to finally complete a New Year’s resolution now that you had time. The world was looking up for you.

“I think that’s it, are you ready?”

His question breaks off your train of thought. You can’t help but groan when he gets near you, arms outstretched, ready for a hug and humiliating you. To make matters worse, he says the worst thing possible.

“Up you go!”, Duke crows.

“No! To the chair! Put me down you overgrown bat!”, you say.

Thankfully he does, gently plopping you down in the cushy seat and stooping to ruffle your hair. You were hissing mad. Not that he cared. Just to goad you further, he reached over to the handles behind your back and rang the obnoxious little bike bell he attached to it.

“Run”, you warn him.

He laughs while sprinting with the dolly all the way to the elevator as you try like hell to mow him down. Both of you completely missed the way his phone kept blowing up with notifications, the small dings being mistaken for a bike bell.

#abo batfam x reader #vamp!batfam #vamp!batfam x reader #batfam x reader #still tagging yandere #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #i've got four essays due by the end of this week #going to my corner to cry now

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minhosimthings · 1 year ago

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Agora Hills

Symphony Smut Series Day 14: Doja Cat's Agora Hills

Lyric - Suck a little dick in the bathroom

Pairings: bf!Chan × fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, thigh riding, dry humping, oral (m recieving), missionary, oral stimulation, dom!chan, sub!reader, dirty talk, no actual sex just fingering and oral, implied p in v at the end, semi-public sex, Hannah is a menace.

A/N: I am really sorry for the slow pace with the fics everyone! But classes have started again and I'm kinda getting busy nowadays but I promise I'll complete the other ones in no time!

THE SYMPHONY SMUT SERIES MASTERLIST

Australia. Hot and Humid.

Even hotter with your boyfriend grilling meat on the beach, clad in a white tanktop which fitted around his muscles perfectly, making you almost visibly drool.

"You good unnie?" Hannah sat down on the warm sand next to you, "You've been staring at my brother for like half an hour."

"Im fine babe." You smiled at her as he handed you your popsicle, "I'm just admiring him."

"Normally I would say 'ew love' but I've noticed you've been very dick ridden for a long time." Hannah giggled, "So I have a solution."

"A solution to what exactly?" You asked her, tearing your eyes away from Chan's arms.

"So your problem is the sound right? Cause our house isn't exactly a sound proof studio." Hannah nudged closer to you, an impish smile on her face, "But through my recent experiments I've found out that the storage locker right next to you guys' bedroom is actually sound proof."

"Isn't a sound proof storage locker kinda dangerous?" You raised your brow at her to which she brushed it off and kept talking.

"Babygirl all I'm telling you is that my parents will be out for the whole afternoon tomorrow. So get in that storage locker and have some fun! Moan as loud as you want, no one's gonna hear. Well atleast the friends I'm inviting tomorrow won't."

You laughed at Hannah's unseriousness and ate the delicious popsicle in your hand, going back to drooling over your boyfriend's arms.

It wasn't a great plan, but it was the only one you had to fulfill your aching cunt

The next day went quicker than you had anticipated and before you know it, you were in the storage locker, with you mouth near Chan's cock, and his hands on the top of your hair.

Giving him head really wasn't a great beginning but you wanted to convince him to fuck you in his parents' storage locker so it was for the best.

You start with gentle long, slow licks from top to bottom the base, you know you´re doing a good job, when you hear Chan letting out his moans. You tease him a little with your tongue and he immediately responds by pushing your head further to him, your nose hitting his lower belly.

You make eye contact with him, both of your faces are sharing the same lust, that is now the main emotion, anger can´t no longer be found. You hold him in your throat for a few second before pulling out for a air, but you want to show him you can do it, so you dive back in, making him moan louder this time. You hoped fervently that Hannah was right about the sound proofness of the room. You could hear her friends and her laughing raucously in her room.

You can feel him twitch inside your mouth, he is close. Your movements are now slower and everything is just messier, spit is coming down your chin, onto your tits, which makes Chan go feral.

"Fuck- just like that, baby." You moan against him, which sends shivers up and down his spine. "You´re doing so good, so fucking good."

You move closer to him, his dick hitting the back of your throat, your hands are slowly coming to his balls, playing with them which makes Chan cum righ away.

Keeping still so he can send his full load down your throat, you proudly swallow it whole, like the good girl you are. "Just like that, good, very good-" Chan says out of breath. You lick him clean, not letting a single drip of cum go to waste.

You look like a mess, but so does Chan. One of his fingers finds your chin and he wipes the little cum you had on your lower lip. Bringing the finger into his mouth and tasting himself. "Hm, I don´t blame you, why are you so addicted to my taste... I’m quite delicious." He makes you stand up. "Oh shit the floor." You can see that you´ve ruined the carpet, it´s completly drenched from your juices. "We can clean the floor later baby, I need your cunt first."

Chan gripped your hips tight and sat you down on his thigh, as he plopped into an old armchair, which was weirdly very pristine in its conditon.

"Take what you want, sweetheart." He whispered, hot breath brushing against your neck. A soft moan couldn't help but seep through the parting of your lips as Chan began to rock your hips against his leg - arousal pooling further in your panties.

"Chan," you groan when he cups your breasts, squeezing firmly but not too hard, just the way you love it, his fingers grazing over your nipples and pulling on them softly, dragging more sinful noises out of you. "I need you," you sigh out, lolling your head back as he starts to kiss down your jaw and along your neck, nibbling softly and smirking against yours skin at the feeling of your hips grinding against her harder, needing to ease the incessant throb between your legs, the intolerable heat that only he could help you with, "Please."

"You're so impatient baby," he teases, sucking on part of your skin to leave a mark, his hands moving away from your chest to your ass, guiding you against his thigh once again, a groan leaving you at his slower pace. "You'll get what you want soon," Chan murmurs, tilting his head back up to meet your lips, claiming them briefly and messily before lowering his head to kiss along your collar bones, sucking another mark as he knew you loved it. His parents might question where those marks came from, but the mosquito population was quite high in Australia so it wasn't a stress for Chan.

Chan gripped your hips again and took you off of his thigh, swiftly ripping your panties off and disposing of them by the side.

"Bend against that counter for me darling." He commanded, leading you over to the marble counter, "let me fuck you from behind yeah?"

“Oh my g-god, Chan!” You loudly whined before he covered your mouth with his big palm, other hand pushing your hips a bit forward so he could probably bend your body however he pleased, making your ass perfectly stick out for him to fuck.

He groaned behind you as you felt his hand squeezing your hip, abdomen already slapping against your back while you choked on your sobs behind his hand.

“Oh f-fuck,” he dropped his forehead against the back of your head as the pace of his hips went up, making you roll your eyes into the back of your head.

"Oh fuck this." Chan growled, before pulling out and flipping you over with agression filling his veins. He hadn't fucked you for so long and he was relishing the noises you were making which was always his favourite song.

“Channie, please!” You begged in a whiny tone, making him chuckle, “Please what, little one? You have to tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” he kissed your shoulder blade before he focused his eyes on his two fingers and how they were rubbing your clit before he shoved them slowly into you, making your head fall forward.

“Oh no, no, no baby,” he laughed deeply, “you stay here while I play with you,” he harshly grabbed the roots of your hair and pulled your head back up, making you groan as he continued fingering your wet cunt.

Your toes curled and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt his thumb make contact with your clit, the nub already starting to stimulate just by the touch of his finger. You felt your clit throb against his fingers as he rubbed small circles on it, the rhythm in sync with the fingers he was pushing inside of you.

Your back flushed against his chest as you felt yourself getting closer to that sweet release of euphoria, your shaky breaths and whimpers getting muffled as you pressed the palm of your hand against your mouth. Just as you were approaching that all too familiar release, Chan pulled his hands away quickly.

"Channie!" You protested, reaching for his hands again, in your dumb doll state.

"Tch tch so impatient for me." Chan clicked his tongue, looking at you with dark eyes, "you'll get my cock darling don't worry."

"And I'll make sure everyone hears what sort of a needy cockdumb slut you are for me."

Taglist: @ramenoil @mynameisniya150 @demigodmahash + whoever wants to be tagged, send an ask my way!

#bang chan scenarios #chan smut scenarios #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan smut imagines #chan hard hours #chan hard thoughts #bang chan hard hours #bang chan hard thoughts #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids smut imagines #skz smut imagines #chan smut drabbles #chan smut oneshots #skz hard hours #skz hard thoughts #stray kids hard hours #bye bye now

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hazelwitch800 · 2 years ago

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I'm here for the ask gamee!! I wanna make sure how alike we are haha sooo 4, 19, 23, 29, and 39...Is that too many? It's way too many lol, feel free to choose between them

Lin!!! Omg you're an angel, thank you for giving me the opportunity to be so self indulgent! And I want to hear all of your responses to these questions in turn 😏

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Omg wow I found this so hard arrrrgh! I think I find this one hard because there's not a word in particular that I love, but I absolutely WILL go feral over a writer's word choice, especially when it's anything surprising or interesting or creative that just makes me think oh wow, what a great word! I do actually have a list of "good words" on my notes app though lol, so here is a selection of some of those: tranquil, raw, permeate, hollow, scorched, lethargy, deft (there were many others lol what a strange list 😅)

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

I only started properly writing at the beginning of 2022, but I really have been writing here and there all my life. I was a total bookworm as a kid, and was always writing stories. The first job I ever wanted was to be an author 😁 I have loads of old notebooks from my teenage years filled with snippets of prose and poems, but I never really finished anything or wrote anything cohesive. I feel like discovering the Internet was a major road block because it ruined my attention span and I barely read a book for years! Honestly, fanfiction was the intense hyperfixation I needed to get myself into gear - I've never had such a strong urge to create before!

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

Ooh I love this - the environment I write in feels super important to me. Okay, so, sometimes, it's at my desk at home during the working day (sssshhhh!), accompanied by the modern day working from home soundtrack: the ping of Teams messages. Other times, it's on the sofa, snuggled under my electric blanket turned up to the max. And when I can make it work, it's in my favourite place of all - my local library. It has a beautiful reading room panelled in old, dark wood, and there's a huge skylight up above. It's a wonderful, peaceful place to work. Maybe not so great for when I'm writing smut 😁

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

When I first started writing, I honestly felt like inspiration just threw itself at me from the void, lol. Nowadays, it's harder. Honestly, I think a lot of my inspiration comes via logical thinking, just trying to figure out what a certain character might do or say in a given situation and letting that guide me. Ooh, also, the act of writing in itself is SO important for me inspiration-wise - there is SO much that just comes to me as I'm writing. Like it just seems to appear in my mind. Which is annoying as it means outlining or plotting beforehand doesn't really work for me, I have to have a half idea and then see how it plays out on the page!

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

Honestly... Self discipline hahaha. That feels like such a sad thing to admit. But I'm the type of person who likes to see things through to the end. I rarely just WANT to write, but I make the time to and I keep at it. I am actually taking more breaks recently, though, and intend to take a longer break to fully recharge soon :)

#Ily Lin #U are the bestest #Here is my personal essay I hope u enjoy it

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6toru · 3 months ago

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𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄.

synopsis. gaining the title ‘duke’ not only came with the prestige, but came along the lonely days you spent yearning for your husband as he toggled the new duties and responsibilities he had to face. it was only a matter of time before you decided that you could only have so much patience, deciding that it wouldn’t hurt if you played around a little – watching as your husband who held himself in great temperance and sangfroid fall into pieces the more you attempt to break his composure.

pairing. nanami kento x fem!reader genre. dukedom & arranged marriage au + smut cw. mature content (mdni), breeding kink, rough sex , explicit language + dirty talk

word count. 4.2k

author's note. hehe a repost from an old writing blog of mine ! def one of my favourite pieces + something about someone who's usually so poised losing control of themselves... feral is what i am 😩

NANAMI KENTO, no doubt, was a powerful young man who earned himself the title Duke from the royal king after his contribution and victory in the most recent war. Of course, now that he was given the new title, he was given a whole lot of responsibilities and duties that he’s got to fulfill now that he had plenty more people to protect. Nowadays, the young duke would either be found training his lot of knights, hunting, or cooped up in his grand office busying himself with myriads of documents. Despite being incredibly proud of his achievements, you still couldn’t help but yearn for the affection of your beloved husband.

Many nights were spent alone, staring up at the tall dark ceiling while you silently counted sheep – hoping that once you had reached a hundred, he would arrive and join you in bed (he’d often fall asleep on the sofa in his office). And, many nights were spent with you fending for yourself when you longed for his touch, arching your back when you’d climax on your fingers – however, you never felt fully satisfied. Your fingers could never compare to his larger and thicker fingers, nor his…

You shake your head rapidly, feeling your cheeks growing redder by the lewd thoughts of your husband swimming through your mind. The last time you had intercourse with the male was when you both consummated the marriage, which was almost half a year ago, and then a month after that, the war happened – and two months later, he’d come back with a new title, Duke. Everything else after that was a blur. He was just within your reach — residing in the same manor and all, could almost reach for him but always got farther and farther away. You miss your husband, desperately.

You stroll through the hallways of the manor, taking small strides towards the familiar giant door with a board of your freshly baked bread balanced in your hands. You continue to hum a gentle tune as you got closer and closer to the door. Although, it may appear to other people that his wife was innocently barging into his office thus surprising him with baked goods made with love – However, unknowingly for them, you had other plans hidden up your sleeves.

“Kento,” your voice gentle as you call out his name, “I brought you something that I think you’d love!”

You open the door further, revealing your husband — as per usual — busying himself with his documents. Fatigue was plastered all across his face, though he tried his best to mask it, but the dark circles underneath his hazel eyes were of no help. You could tell that even his muscles had gotten sore from training and staying seated for long periods of time. You placed the bread tray in front of him, and you walked around the desk to stand next to your husband.

“Thank you, honey,” He quickly thanks you, sending you a quick nod of acknowledgement. Your husband was in pure autopilot mode, his hand continuously signing the documents despite him slowly losing focus — desperately trying to keep them open rather than succumbing to slumber.

“You should take a moment to relax, Kento.” You say. Just as he is about to come up with some type of excuse as to why he shouldn’t take a break, you lean in closer to his ear. “Let me help you.”

Your hands travel up to his back, and you applied some pressure on his shoulders while you massaged him. Your husband releases a low groan when you apply even more pressure on a stubborn muscle knot on his shoulders. You smile when he relaxes into your touch, closing his eyes while he leaned closer into you as you massaged into his sore muscles until those pesky knots disappeared. “How do you feel now?”

“I feel much better,” Kento sighs, humming pleasantly, “ Thank you for the bread, too. I’ll make sure to finish it while I continue working.”

“Can’t your break be a little longer?” You probe at him, pouting softly. “I missed you.”

A sudden wave of boldness and confidence overtook your consciousness, and you brought yourself down on his lap, your arms snaking around your husband’s muscular shoulders. Kento looks completely taken aback, and you eat that expression up as if it is candy.

“Kento,” you begin, “can’t you see that your cute and loving wife misses you?”

You press your lips against his ear, before whispering: “I’ve been thinking about you so much, putting a baby inside of me.”

Slowly, you thrust your hips against his thigh, watching your husband in pure amusement as he attempts to keep his composure; his hand tightening on his pen, knuckles white. Almost immediately, you can feel him hardening underneath you, and you grinned almost immediately. Something about his reaction swelled your heart with pride, knowing that despite being busy you still, somewhat, had an effect on him. Even more, Kento was taken aback, completely speechless (and undeniably turned on) from his wife’s bold ministrations.

“B-baby inside..?” His voice came out as a dry rasp, his eyes wide .

Before your husband could process anything else, he felt the weight on his lap disappearing, and he quickly stared up to watch you getting ready to leave. You fixed the wrinkles on the hem of your dress, trying to fight back the grin on your face after having just teased your usually stoic husband. He had always appeared so cool and composed, so watching him try so hard to keep his composure undeniably gave you some type of thrill.

“Y/N?” He called out your name, looking visibly confused. Your eyes traveled down to your husband’s trousers, smiling innocently as you caught sight of the large tent growing between his legs.

“I almost forgot to mention, but the marchioness invited me to her manor for a tea party.” You said, attempting to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat while your husband appeared flustered. “I won’t be back until tonight.”

You lean in to give him a quick kiss on his lips, not before licking his bottom lip as you pull away. You were being far too mean with your husband, but you couldn’t help it — watching him slowly crack beneath your manipulation sent a shock of arousal straight between your legs. “Until then, promise me that you’ll finish the bread and take breaks when you need it, okay?”

Before the man could even muster a single response, you walked out of his office. Only two could play at this game, you thought to yourself as you closed the office door behind you.

Hours had already passed and you finished catching up with the noble ladies, exchanging goodbyes and letters before parting ways. It had truly been a while since you had last caught up with your friends. Nevertheless, the time spent at your friend’s manor was enjoyable, listening to all the spicy gossip while enjoying desserts and tea.

The ride back home in the carriage is silent — the only sound present were the continuous patters from the horses’ steps. You stare outside the window, quietly watching the manor eventually disappearing as the carriage goes further away in distance. It is already a quarter past nine, perhaps the latest you have ever stayed out, and it is safe to assume that your beloved husband is probably resting on the sofa in his office again.

You lean your back against the seat, pressing the side of your head against the window as your eyes begin to grow heavy, the distant sounds of the horses’ steps gradually lulling you into a short slumber.

“My lady, we’ve arrived.”

“Oh my, we’re already here?” You ponder to yourself out loud, groggily opening your eyes. You place your hands atop the coachman’s guiding you down the carriage, and you stare at the tall manor before you. Once you enter inside, you are automatically greeted with your maids ushering you to the bathroom with a change of clothes. Undeniably, you felt a little disappointed, as you believe that your husband had unknowingly proved your point from earlier — you, at least, hoped that he’d stay awake a little longer. You sink lower into the tub, blowing bubbles as you scrunch your brows together, the water hiding pouting lips. The maid had left you alone earlier, telling you that she’d return with a towel soon, but it’s been moments.

You glance around the bathroom, trying to decipher the exact location of your nightgown. Ah, it was on the stool, next to the door. If anyone had walked in on you grabbing your nightgown from the stool, the only thing they’d see is your wet and bare body. It shouldn’t be too bad, though —after all, it’s always been your maids coming in. Slowly, you stand up from the large tub, and you immediately shiver from the wave of cold air rushing to you,, cool beads of water dripping down your body. With careful steps, you make your way across the room, your hand reaching out towards your nightgown.

You suddenly hear a knock on the door, and you instinctively grab the gown to cover the front of your body. It must be the maid, you think to yourself and you try to mimic that of a stern face — however, you can’t bring yourself to be too harsh on a new maid, after all. You watch the door open slowly, and you tap your fingers against your elbows. “Hana, where were you all this… Oh.”

Almost immediately, your face is sent aflame and you scurry away from the door, your failed attempt of a stern persona pathetically crumbling away as the space revealed no one other than your husband standing in front of the doorway with a towel in his hand. Hazel eyes travel up and down your frame, his jaw tensing at the sight of your bunched up nightgown barely covering your body — hell, it didn’t cover anything, he stares longingly at your left breast deciding to slip out of the covers. He steps into the room and closes the door shut immediately, his eyes still locked into your frame and he stays silent.

You press the nightgown against your body even more and you look away from his gaze, as if it could help hide your insecurities that are growing the more he stared and stayed silent. However, all that stops when you glance back at your husband and he gives you a come hither motion with his index finger. “Kento,” you say his name softly, “I thought you were asleep—”

“Come here,” is all he says to you, his voice low and baritone. You easily comply with his words, taking small strides to get closer to the male. “Hand me your nightgown.”

“I thought it was Hana that knocked,” you say quietly as you hand your husband your nightgown, further revealing your naked body. You can hear Kento’s breath hitch for a mere moment before he quickly regains his composure — however, it is already so fragile. He swiftly wraps the towel around your body before pulling you closer to him, his hands resting on your hips while he leans closer to your face with stern eyes. “You’re lucky that it was me, then. What were you thinking about going out of the bath like that? What if it wasn’t Hana or I that walked in?”

“I didn't want to stay in the bath anymore, and I genuinely believed that my maids would be the only ones to walk in. Because of that, I didn’t feel too worried.” You answer your husband softly, squeezing his shoulder ever so slightly. “Despite you giving me a bit of a surprise, I can’t say that I’d rather have Hana come here instead of you.”

“Is that so? That’s a relief, then. I did tell her that I’d take care of the rest and she could rest for the night.” He hummed, before lifting you up in his arms without any warning, immediately eliciting a surprised gasp from your lips.

“W-what are you doing?” You question your husband, stammering as you instinctively place your hand onto his chest.

“You know, after you played your little game earlier, I wasn’t able to do my work properly.” says Kento, opening the bathroom door. “I believe you should bear some sort of responsibility, no?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter under your breath, masking a soft grin as you nuzzle your face into your husband’s neck.

“Putting a baby inside you,” he says, a slight strain present in his baritone voice as he continues walking down the hall with your towel-covered body in his arms. The walk down to your shared bedroom feels like an eternity has passed, the sounds of his footsteps resonating across the quiet hall. You want to question him where the rest of maids and butlers had gone but you relented, your body tense under the man’s carnal gaze.

“If fucking a baby inside of you is what you want, then it’s what you’ll get. It’s what my sweet wife asked for, after all.”

“H-Honey, what are you—?”

With one hand, Kento swiftly opens the bedroom door. You let out a small shriek when he throws you on the soft mattress of your king-sized bed, his large hands pinning your hands above your head. He has this carnal glint in his amber eyes as he stares deeply into yours, it was as if all his self-control was beginning to crumble right before your eyes — you’ve never seen him like this; a cool, composed and reserved man looking so disheveled above you—his dress shirt buttoned loosely, revealing his collarbones and the evident incarnadine flush radiating onto his cheeks. Truly, it is a delicious sight to behold, and the wetness dwelling between your legs only seems to grow the longer you stare at the man.

“What a lewd woman, you are.” He mutters, his grip on your wrists tightening while his other hand trails down your chest, slowly pulling the towel down. “Was my sweet wife having fun playing teatime after leaving me to take care of this?”

Before you can even utter a word, a sudden gasp leaves your lips when Kento grinds his hips against yours; the delightful friction of the erection growing in his trousers rubbing against your clit, your back arching in hopes to get more. “I missed you,” you say between heavy breaths, “I missed you so much—Ah! Y-You’ve been so cooped up in your o-office lately and ngh..”

Your words were cut abruptly by his lips, teeths clashed and tongues intertwined while his rough and calloused fingers trail up your torso, towards your bare chest in a teasingly slow pace. A muffled moan leaves your lips, only to be covered by your husband’s lips, as he teases your already erect nipples.

“Tell me more,” said your husband, his lips leaving yours.

With heavy eyes, you watch Kento’s lips trail to where his hands once rested. His tongue swirls around the mound before sucking on your skin harshly, and you rest your fingers tangled in his blond locks as he continues to elicit those cute sounds coming from your swollen lips.

“You’ve been so busy with your duties as the duke, and—Mhhm..!—I-I’ve been feeling so alone these many nights while I longed for you, so so desperately. I love you so much Kento—Ah!” You mewl out those words in unadulterated wanton, your voice all shakey, it almost sounds embarrassingly pathetic when your husband is doing nothing more than teasing your breasts rather than fucking you relentlessly in the mattress. You can barely care less about how you sound though, because his lips and touch alone are enough to send you into ecstasy. You want him to touch you more. The needy ache between your legs continuously grows more intense the longer he teases you.

“H-Honey, ‘want more. Please.” You beg your husband, your fingers desperately trying to unbutton his wrinkled dress shirt. “I need more of you.”

Kento doesn’t reply back, continuing his little ministrations on your neglected mound. It is adorable seeing him so focused on pleasuring you, but the heat you feel in your pussy feels too overwhelming. You push your husband’s head away from your mound, his lips leaving your skin with a soft ‘pop!’ He glances at you questioningly.

It was a bold and sudden decision that you had made on a whim out of sheer desperation, but his reaction made it all the more worth it. As soon as your fingers leave his half-buttoned dress shirt, you hook your arms underneath your knees and spread your legs open, revealing your cunt drenched in your desperate juices. “Kento, I mean it when I told you that I wanted you to put a baby in me.”

His mouth is left agape at your sudden boldness, his eyes fixated on the juices slowly dripping out of your hole — his breath gets stuck in his throat as he watches your small fingers spread your pussy lips apart. “Kento, touch me. Please.”

“Shit.”

It is almost as if the string has finally snapped inside of him, because before his mind can even start to think properly, his hands are on your thighs, keeping your legs spread apart as he begins the merciless assault on your dripping folds; his tongue lapping at all your wetness as if he was animal thirsty for water. Kento almost groans at the way his finger stretches your pussy, his finger sliding in almost immediately due to your juices. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath, “you’re so wet for me.”

He slides his index finger in and out before adding a second finger to the mix. He starts off slow, but his pace gradually quickens to that of which is considered merciless. The sounds of your wet cunt getting demolished by his fingers echoes in the grand room, along with your cries of pleasure. Your hips thrash against his fingers, and you can feel the sensation of pressure that was building up in your abdomen intensifying the more that he pleases you with his large fingers. Within less than a second, you cum intensely around his fingers, a loud moan erupting from your throat as your body slumps against Kento.

‘His fingers feel so much better compared to my fingers,’ you think to yourself as you try to recover from your first orgasm.

While you attempt to catch your breath, you glance back to Kento only to watch him undress with your mouth salivating. It’s already a given that your husband would be incredibly fit as he often trains with the knights and hunts (while not forgetting the night you had consummated with him in the dark the past few months ago — you felt every crevice of his muscles) — but now, seeing it up close and so clearly — he is truly a sight to behold. You reach your arm towards his chiseled abdomen, your fingers drawing hearts across his skin, and your eyes travel lower past his abdomen; staring intently at the huge tent growing beneath his underwear. You want to get fucked by this man already, so so bad.

“Kento,” you say his name softly, tracing your fingers along the outline of your husband’s clothed erection before trailing back up to the waistband, tugging it down slightly to expose more of his v-line. He tugs his boxers down completely, and your mouth immediately waters at the exquisite sight. He is a lot bigger than you had remembered.

When he slowly rubs the tip of his dick against your folds, shivers trickle down your spine as you raise your hips to meet his, attempting to get him inside.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles, his voice hoarse. “Look at you all spread open for me, desperate to get a taste of my cock.”

He slips his tip in, eliciting a sharp breath past your trembling lips, and then he pulls out. You whine out his name in a bated breath, your cheeks flushed in an incarnadine hue. Kento spares you a soft smile, almost as if it was mocking you, before he fills your hole up to the very brim — splitting your pussy open.

“Oh fuck—Kento!” A scream slips past your lips, your eyes scrunched shut as a huge wave of pleasure rushes through your veins, sending goosebumps on your skin. Your husband is relentless with his movements, your legs spread apart by his strong grip. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours along with cries of his name resonates across the bedroom, coupled with the intense squeaking from the mattress. “F-Feels so good—Ahn! Please—Please don’t stop—Oh!”

“You dirty woman,” Kento sneers, “we’ve just started and your pussy’s already so greedy for my cum by how tight you’re squeezing me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to get my sweet wife pregnant—filled with all my cum.”

With that, he spreads your legs even wider and leans his torso closer to yours; his face merely centimeters away from yours. “I can feel you getting tighter,” He says, his hot breath fanning against your skin, “you’re getting real close, hm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to properly reply though, as he trails his one hand down to your clit and rubs rough circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a silent scream—your mouth agape and eyes rolled back as you ride out your orgasm, arching your back against his chest.

You are barely given enough time to recover when Kento returns to work, his lips instantly connecting to yours while he thrusts his cock inside your sopping hole with a stuttering pace. His hands travel up to your breasts and gives them a harsh squeeze, the pace of his thrusts quickening. Your husband looks utterly delectable, his face scrunched up as he focuses on your pleasure, small beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Pleasure fills your veins, and your cries only increase in volume the closer you are to reaching your second orgasm.

Thoughts of you being all plumped up and pregnant play repeatedly in his mind, and it merely ignites his desire to pump all his cum into you. Breaths ragged, he stuffs his head into the crook of your neck, nails gripping into your hips as he continues to plummet into you. “K-Kento—!” You wantonly whine out his name, wrapping your legs tightly around your husband’s hips. “Cum inside me—please. Want your kids so bad.”

How can he not cum? Especially when the sight of his sweet wife being drunk on his dick is right before his eyes. With a groan (combined with a growl) of your name along with a string of curses leaving his lips, he stiffens up inside you; warm ropes of his cum coating your walls white.

Upon pulling out, he watches large beads of white leaking out of your hole and he sticks his finger inside, pushing his cum back inside. You released a soft sigh in pleasure, your legs slightly twitching at your husband’s touch.

“How are you feeling now?” Questions your husband, Kento. You reach your arm out to his face, your thumb tracing light circles on his cheekbones.

“I’m a happy, happy wife,” you reply to him, laughing softly before leaning into his lips, giving him a soft peck. Kento chuckles lightly into the kiss. “Was I too rough with you?” He asks you once more, and you shake your head immediately.

“I think I’ve realized just now how much I enjoy being manhandled by you,” you reply back to him, giggling. “Rather, I enjoy seeing this new side of you.”

Your giggles quickly gets replaced by a slight gasp when your husband suddenly adjusts your position, your face and chest now pressed against the mattress with your husband behind you, his hand lightly rubbing his erect cock. Swiftly, you turn your head to Kento, your mouth agape as you are just about to question him but the sting of his hand on your ass immediately erases all rational thoughts in your mind. Heat immediately rushes to your face once more at the foreign, yet pleasurable sensation.

“K-Kento,” you are able to utter your husband’s name, your arms already feeling weak from holding yourself up from the mattress. A shaky breath leaves your lips when he slowly rubs his cock against you from behind, your ears picking up a hoarse chuckle.

“I never said I was done with you,” Kento tells you, “not until I’m sure that you’ll get pregnant with all my cum."

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated !

#★ 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujustu kaisen fanfic

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

Text

Getting tall

Summary: Damian finally hits his growth spurts and the fam have opinions. Some damijon, timkon, jaytemis, and dickori mentioned.

Damian was an adorable tiny murder baby when he first showed up at the manor. Like a feral kitten. Short end of normal growth at 10 years old and thin too, Dr Leslie found. Make sure he eats 3 square meals and snacks when he wants and he’ll be just fine. Alfred had made it his mission, as he had done for both Jason and Tim, to put weight on Damian.

The first family member he outgrew was Cass. She reached over to ruffle his hair only to reach up above her head rather than below it. She didn’t mind. 5’4 isn’t very tall. She’d just have to remember that the next time they spar. Height wasn’t an important factor to her.

It was a few months later that Damian hit a massive growth spurt and grew 4 inches. He passed by 5’6 Stephanie.

“Hey little dude. What are they puttin in your food, miracle grow?” She asked when she noted how tall he was and how big his feet had gotten. Damian was a bit like the giant puppies all gangly. Alfred was adjusting the Robin costume monthly after Damian rushed to put it on for patrol one day and every time he raised his arms he felt his stomach show. Clothes were constantly being bought that met his newest height increase. The Kents were very appreciative of the barely worn clothing Jon got as Damian went through another pair.

“I’m perfectly normal in growth,” he said pulling on the hem of his shirt that was growing shorter by the day. Stephanie eyed him but left it. Tim hated the height jokes they would make when everyone started passing him in height. Nowadays Tim just rolled his eyes and deferred all short jokes to Bart who Damian was now taller than. Bart didn’t care at all because he was short but he was also at least top 3 faster people ever so who cares right?

For a very short time, Damian was taller than Jon. He liked that. Jon thought it was pretty funny.

“D, I’m going to be taller. My dad and mom are both taller than yours. I’ll be taller in the end,” Jon said with a grin before Damian pushed him off the roof. Jon giggled and stared at Damian with obvious heart eyes. The kid was definitely smitten.

Tim was half an inch taller. He didn’t acknowledge it in any way. But it wasn’t surprising. His mother was tiny, his father lower end of average, and Tim probably skipped too many meals with working during an important growth phase while he was becoming Robin. 5’8.5 is a perfectly normal height for a man. He had an easier time with stealth.

Bruce watched as his son grew more handsome and taller everyday. He recognized things he hadn’t taken the time to see with Dick or Jason and had missed completely with Tim. Aftershave, cologne, and deodorant budget went up exponentially and Damian was barred from bringing any of his shoes in the house and his Robin uniform had to double washed occasionally. He spent far longer in the bathroom doing his hair and agonizing over any spot on his face.

Bruce even once caught Damian do the lean on the doorframe while talking to someone they like when Jon visited once. He had to give the worst birds and bees talk of all time. Bruce also noted how Damian had Talia’s nose and his lip curled the same way hers did when he smiled. He stretched when walking to the breakfast table the same way Dick did.

Damian didn’t get another true growth spurt for 2 years. There was plenty of jokes that he jumped up to his height and didn’t move again. Jon was once again taller than Damian. Alfred was ready this time with the massive amount of food the 15 year old could put away and panels in his costume for easier adjustments.

Talia smiled proudly at her son as he grew taller than her. He was turning out handsome like his father but kept her feature and in her mind, that was the perfect combo. She never told Damian because she didn’t him to grow arrogant.

Dick didn’t notice it right away. He was so busy with Bludhaven and the Titans that he didn’t notice Damian had gotten a full inch taller than him. He only realized when him and Damian practiced a complex move that required a taller and shorter partner while training. They paired up as they always did and the maneuver completely fell apart. Dick was mentally putting together why it failed when Damian walked over and it clicked. Little D was not so little anymore.

“You’re taller than me,” he said brightly. Damian immediately grinned.

“So now you’re little D,” Damian said back. Dick laughed at that one.

“Don’t let it go to your head. I can throw you around like a tilt-a-whirl,” Dick warned. Of course, that’s exactly what happened the next time they sparred when Damian tried to use his height advantage.

“I can beat Jason so don’t think you can beat me just by being bigger,” Dick said standing over Damian who rolled his eyes.

Dick had no problem with Damian getting taller. It was his own height he had a complicated relationship with. See, Dick grew up as an acrobat. Being tall is a disadvantage. More weight to swing, more body to move. And his father had told him growing up that almost every Grayson man has been 5’8. It’s a legacy as strong as flying above the circus crowd.

And so when at 15, Dick was very distraught with the fact that he hadn’t stopped growing at 5’8. It felt like a part of his history and family legacy had died. He wasn’t one of the 5’8 Grayson men. He never told anyone beside Kori, late at night where she told him she loved him tall or small. She had already far outpaced Dick and was on her way to being 6’4.

Duke and Alfred and Damian were the same height for a short while. Duke would joke that he could just wear the Robin’s costume since they were the same size. Damian would threaten to disembowel him if he touched it and that made Duke laugh even more.

When he grew taller Duke once again joked with Damian calling him a not so jolly green giant and Alfred considered his nutrition attempt a complete success. Damian went from a tiny kid to a tall strong young man.

Damian and Jon were practically the same size for a while. Jon barely bent his neck to rest his chin on Damian’s shoulder as his partner worked on a complex mechanical part. Then Jon hit another growth spurt to end in his final height of 6’2, same as Bruce and his father. Damian enjoyed having a taller boyfriend for a while but would never say anything. High school dances were nice.

Bruce could see Damian getting taller and stronger and was practically grown. Dr Leslie warned Bruce that growth could continue until Damian was in his early 20s and he could end up a quite tall young man or stop tomorrow.

Jason liked being the tallest and biggest in the family. He had an entire inch in height on Bruce and was at least 20 lbs heavier. He was built like tank. When Jason had died at 15, he was terrifyingly thin. Alfred had tried his best but Jason had suffered malnutrition and hunger from practically birth. He was short and thin and Dr Leslie had told Bruce he probably always would be. And so when Jason came back to life a giant 6’3 and over 200 lbs, it was a shock. It took him forever to accept his size as anything more than an amour to create fear in his enemies. The first time he had accidentally scared a woman walking in the street at night, Jason had hated that he was so big. But within his family, it had become a source of pride. He was certainly taller than Dick and Alfred and even Bruce.

So when he visited Cass’s birthday party and Jason stood next to Damian and realized that the kid was taller than him, he was a little shocked. Damian had reached his final height of 6’4.

“When the hell did you get so big?” Jason asked while cake was being served. Dick nosed in the conversation.

“Little D is taller than you now,” he said with a teasing grin at Jason.

“And yet you insist on calling me Little D,” Damian said with an eye roll.

“I call him Big D,” Jon said with a smile. Dick blanched and Jason coughed out an awkward laugh.

“Good for you, bro,” he said patting Damian on the back. Jon blushed at the sudden understanding.

“No! I mean- he’s taller than me. I didn’t mean- uh,” Jon stuttered. Damian grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him away from his brothers who were laughing.

“It’s weird you know,” Jason admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“The fact that he is dating Jon?”

“No, they’ve been together forever. That he’s taller than me,” Jason said.

“Are you- does it bother you that you aren’t the tallest?” Dick asked with a gleeful smile.

“No,” Jason said abruptly.

“It could be like how I learned my little brother was bigger than me,” Dick teased. “All of a sudden you were just massive. My tiny little brother was this big dude. Good thing I’m comfortable with my masculinity.”

“Your girlfriend is like 6 inches taller than you. If that isn’t emasculating then there’s nothing I could do,” Jason answered.

“Yeah, she’s always been taller than me,” Dick said with a fond smile. “You can’t talk with the Amazon you’ve been hanging with.” He pushed Jason’s shoulder with a grin.

“We’re just friends-I guess,” Jason said uncomfortable. “That’s not the same-“

“Well at least Tim will always be our little brother,” Dick changed the subject but mentally noted Jason’s reaction to the mention of Artemis.

“Yeah, he’ll always be a shrimp,” Jason agreed.

“Honestly fuck you both,” Tim said from across the room. With Kon standing next to him he certainly looked tiny.

“Hey, it’s my birthday and I am the shortest and I can still kick all of your butts,” Cassandra reminded them both and they laughed but neither corrected her because they knew she was right.

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zixzs-ajk · 3 years ago

Photo

"It was terrifying. But not for the reasons you probably think."

---

What are Chimeras...? Is that a loaded question? Am I supposed to call them people? Or monsters? Hell, some people think they're demons. Can't say I blame them. Truth is, they're all those things. Was a time where I might lean more towards "monsters." Not sure if I'm more or less for that nowadays.

Chimeras are... let's call them a kind of person. Looks like any usual Joe or Tom you'd pass on the street. Could be a dog, fox, bat, bird, whatever. Species doesn't matter. You couldn't pick 'em out with anything less than a microscope. That's when they're calm, at least. Heard some of those science-types call them "dormant," when they're not freaking out or ripping people apart. Media loves that word.

As for what gets them riled up... that's been debated for the better half of the past decade. Some people think there's no rhyme or reason, that the Chimera gets unleashed whenever it damn well feels like it. Other people have said there's a pattern, that the Chimera part lets loose when they're about to die, as if it's some fight-or-flight response. That seems more plausible, in my experience. When a Chimera goes off, it's anything but pretty. Describing it... it'd be difficult to say what happens even if it was consistent. The only consistency seems to be pain and death. You might call that dramatic, but if anything, I'm underselling it.

They always get bigger, for one. Their hide tends to rip like cloth, shredding apart as their bodies go into overdrive. It's like something else is pushing out from inside of them. Limbs sometimes double up, whether it's more tails or arms or even heads. Half the time those extras aren't even functional. Teeth go wild, eyes bulge out from their skulls, claws get bigger than their hands themselves. Reason we call 'em "Chimeras" is, there's no telling what kind of parts or characteristics they get. I've seen anything from a dog with wings to a snake with a stinger. Their bodies just snap, going haywire as if they can't figure out what kind of species they're supposed to be.

Then they go feral, killing anyone unfortunate enough to share the same city block as them. All that pain and suffering sure as hell doesn't keep them calm. It's not even like they revert to any base instincts; it's like... like there's an intent behind their killing. They'd be scary enough if they were just mindless beasts when that Chimera is let out, but sometimes... there's still intelligence there. Psychotic, lethal intelligence, even if they can't always speak with their jaw split in half. Not always the case, but I've seen it. Putting down a Chimera is easier said than done. All those mutations make them damn near bulletproof, and what wounds you can even manage hardly last a minute. The only proven way to take one down is through some kind of chemical incapacitation... or decapitation.

I wish I didn't have to know all this, but it seems pertinent with this latest job. Whatever this Samson character is doing, it seems to be tied with the recent Chimera cases, which would be cause enough for concern on its own. The damn cardinal doesn't know what he's doing. Chimeras didn't fade because people forgot about them; we called them urban legends because that's what we wanted them to be.

#coldbloods #owens #blood #writing #wolf #mutant #scary #thereisareasonowensissodurable

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pissjesus · 3 years ago

Note

question: what about murdoc made you go so feral? i am equally as unhinged, and i find it interesting how over the years the Murdoc in my brain is nearly a different murdoc we tend to get in canon nowadays.

Short answer: to quote my favorite US President, Jessica Rabbit— he makes me laugh. I think bass is the sexiest instrument. He’s bisexual, and I’m bisexual.

Long answer: he just seems to tick all the boxes when it comes to my favorite character archetypes: dubious parental figures, crusty old men, mansluts, vampiric in nature, wet and pathetic like a newborn deer, mean, bisexual, short kings—you know? I had a major Beatles phase when I was younger and he looks like a rejected Beatle so it’s probably also a Pavlovian response. He has a strange sexual allure and yet he’s so pathetic and it only makes him more compelling. Not only does he wear capes without a doubt in his mind that it makes him cool, but he only started doing it in phase 2, when he was pushing 40. At his big age he decided he’s gonna wear a cape. He’s a disgusting womanizer but in a masochistic way that somehow makes him non-threatening. He’s angry and horrible but with just enough tragedy in his backstory that I can project all my angst onto him. I could fix him but I like him better as a wretch. Here’s some images of him that I like:

To answer the second half: The discrepancy between Murdoc in our brains and Murdoc in canon is probably in part due to like, we idealize our favorite fictional men, but also the way they write him now is so neutered compared to the way he started out. We don’t even get to see his ass, he doesn’t make fun of celebrities by name, he’s supposed to be nice now but instead of actual writing or anything he just cries. You know, the usual gripes

#asks #anonymous #murdoc niccals #gorillaz #kinda funny that when I first got into them 2d was briefly my favorite #I know the tag and the actual content is so oversauturated with him #but i’m not complaining

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trashboatprince · 2 years ago

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Hello, will you draw new Bendy content? What do you think about the new game?

Oh, I'm very much going to be drawing new Bendy content soon, but right now I'm holding off on it because I'm waiting for my best friends to finish playing the game first (I went ahead and am watching a full let's play to learn about the game, while they're playing it without any prior knowledge (with me watching alongside them and not spoiling anything)). I don't want to post anything until they've finished so that I'm not spoiling anything for them.

And what I think, so far, still got a chapter and a half left to watch, is that I freaking love it! I love how it looks, I love how big it is, I love Audrey and Baby Benders and a bunch of the cool new things in it. And the lore! Holy shit! I don't like the stealth aspect though, but I saw that coming a mile away, it's becoming very common in games like this nowadays so I knew that it'd be in there.

Other than that, I adore this game, though BATIM is still the favored of the four Bendy games out now.

Also, if something my friend Spottie said is true that matches Ink Spots, I'm gonna go feral.

#john's commentary

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chromsai · 3 years ago

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I GOT THE ROBIN CHROM FATED DUO UNIT ON THE FIRST DRAW AND I KNEW I HAD TO TELL YOU LET'S GOOOOOOO (Every time you mention Chrom I feel like the buff handshake meme and it's me/(CHROM)\you )

yOOOOOOO ANON I AM SO FUCKING SORRY HOW LATE I AM WITH ANSWERING I HAVE BEEN HELLA BUSY RAISING A CHILD SO I BARELY HAVE TIME FOR THINGS NOWADAYS

BUT OH MY GOD PLEASE SEND ME YOUR LUCK AND WELL WISHES I HAVE BEEN TRYING FOR OVER 40 PULLS AND GODS KNOW HOW MANY WASTED FUCKIN ORBS AND I STILL HAVE NO CHROBINS OR FROBINS I’M GONNA GO INSANE PLEASE PLEASE BLESS ME PLEASE I AM DESPERATE I AM CLOSE TO GIVING INTO TEMPTATION FOR CHROM AND HIS TWINK LIL “FrIeNd” AND AM CONSIDERING FEH PASS AGAIN JUST FOR THE EXTRA ORBS BUT I DONT WANNA STOOP SO LOW BECAUSE I AM TRYING TO RAISE MONEY TO BUY A HOUSE FOR ME & MY CHILD LIKE THE RESPONSIBLE TAX-PAYING ADULT I /SHOULD/ BE (THAT I TOTALLY AM I SWEAR)

OKAY ANYWAYS I ALSO APOLOGIZE FOR THE ALL CAPS I AM SLEEP DEPRIVED (YOU KNOW, DUE TO MY CHILD) AND I AM WAY PAST MY BEDTIME SO I CAN ONLY GO FERAL AT THESE HOURS. ANYWAY CHROMGRATS ON YOUR CHROBINS PLEASE SEND ME PRAYERS I NEED MY MANS AND I ONLY GOT 1 DAY LEFT AGDJKFKG

PS THANK U FOR YOUR PATIENCE IN MY RESPONSE HERE HAVE A PICTURE OF MY CHILD HE IS 4 AND A HALF MONTHS OLD AND IS A CRIMINAL

#anon #ask #reply #nobody cares Sai #I WANT CHROBINS BUT I CAN ONLY DO SO MUCH WHEN THERE IS A LITERAL DEVIL RUNNING MY HOUSE CURRENTLY I AM PREOCUPIED WITH RAISING

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visions-indestructible-head · 3 years ago

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saw Multiverse of Madness again and here's another 2 cents:

Elizabeth Olsen seriously needs to get out of the MCU, this woman steals every single goddamn scene she's in and while i hope Disney pays well, her acting is honestly kinda wasted on this particular brand of film. don't get me wrong i am beyond ecstatic about the limelight she got in this movie but it still was kinda a step down from what she was given in WandaVision, from range alone. she honestly can do so much more and you saw it in that scene where she's introduced. just those 5 seconds of Wanda waking up from her dream and coming to terms with the reality she lives in was insane to watch and one of the top 3 scenes of the entire thing and it was purely her. no co-stars, no set, not even score. just her acting.

Stephen's personal journey was much more palatable on the second time watching the movie and i am pleased to say i actually really loved it. he really grew on me as a character and it reminded me of a lot of things i liked about him in the first solo movie that kind of got lost in translation in the big ensembles during Endgame and Infinity War

the third eye thing as a symbol for Stephen overcoming his fear of real change and accepting the "uglier" parts of himself? Real slick move, enjoyed that a lot when it finally clicked

narrative foils America and Wanda are great but also the reason Stephen felt a bit out of place in his own movie imo?

personally i loved feral Wanda and her covered in blood alternate universe self but yeah, i get now why so many people were really dissatisfied with that choice

honestly props to the actors of the twins, especially the kid that plays Billy. he looked shitting-his-pants-terrified in that scene near the end, very impressive

ive had America Chavez for a day and a half but if anything happened to her i would kill everyone in this room and then myself. i have such a complicated relationship with marvel nowadays but if the current phase is doing anything right it's how they introduce their new characters because her, Yelena and Kate all wandered into my heart within the first 15 minutes of seeing them on screen

#multiverse of madness #mom spoilers #multiverse of madness spoilers #wanda maximoff #stephen strange #america chavez #probably not my last post about this bc the film struck such a cord with me im being sucked back into marvel

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fallen-gravity · 4 years ago

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awaken the stars, ‘cause they’re all around you

Stanford Pines never really believed in soulmates.

He can't imagine the idea that there's one person out there for him in the multiverse who would stop at nothing to love him for who he is, despite everything he is and everything he's done. He can't imagine that someone out there is meant for him, someone who will stand by his side until the end of time.

Or maybe he'd just been looking at it from the wrong angle.

Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @stariousfalls!!!!! I can't believe we've been friends for upwards of five years now?? You've been a huge inspiration of mine from my first day in the gravity falls fandom back in late 2014, and now you're one of my closest friends. I've been spending the last week and a half working on this behind your back, because I wanted to surprise you with a gift I thought you'd love!!

7.5k words of fluff was....not my original plan, but fluff brain wanted to go feral for you, I guess.

Huge, huge shoutout to @ariasofelegance for helping me keep my mouth shut about this, I absolutely would've internally combusted without your help & support

AO3

Ford never saw the appeal of romantic relationships.

One night when he and Stan were kids, they snuck downstairs in the middle of the night after their parents were asleep to dig through Pa’s “Secret stash” of movies he thought he was good at keeping a secret. They’d thought for sure they’d be coming across bootleg cuts of action movies that were still playing in theaters, or documentaries about how all of the politicians in power were secretly aliens.

What they actually found was much more…sensual. They were both horrified, to say the least, but each time Ford had to turn away to prevent himself from gagging, he’d hear Stan beside him struggling not to laugh.

For years, Ford was convinced coming across those tapes before he was old enough to fully comprehend what was happening in them is what had turned him off to relationships altogether. It certainly didn’t help that he was never able to experience romantic relationships firsthand, as every time he tried asking someone out in high school he’d just be laughed at or called a freak.

Though college was another story entirely, his feelings towards romantic relationships never seemed to change. He went out with a girl from his dungeons, dungeons, and more dungeons club for a few weeks, a guy from his advanced physics class for almost two months, and even tried going out with Fiddleford for upwards of nine months, but he never felt that deeper connection with any of them, no matter how much he wanted to feel that connection.

It’d be forty more years before he learned the term aromantic, but when he was still in college he would brush off his parents’ questions about his relationship status by telling them he was too busy working on his thesis, which technically wasn’t all that far from the truth anyway.

Still, the faint sense of yearning never seemed to leave him be. Whenever he found gaps in his schedule, he would spend hours in his university library reading up on the science of relationships and their place in society. Though he no longer remembers most of the papers he read, one scientific study that’s always stuck with him was a dissertation written entirely on the concept of soulmates.

Everyone has a soulmate, the paper claimed. Though it may be decades until you properly meet, your path always leads to the moment that you and your soulmate are finally united. Once finally together, not a single force on earth can tear you apart. Even if you are apart physically, the stars will always align to bring you together. Weirdest of all, the paper mentioned soulmarks, which were described as “the phenomenon that a person’s very soul is marked with a piece that belongs to their soulmate, which may appear as a physical anomaly on a person’s body, such as an oddly-shaped birthmark”.

Ford had thought for sure that somebody must’ve moved a romance novel into the sociology section of the library as a joke. The only sort of anomaly he had going for him was his polydactyly, and thinking too much about how that could connect him to a single person who was destined to love him gave him a headache.

Nowadays, though, Ford tries not to give it much thought. He’s perfectly happy right where he is, watching the sunrise from the deck of the Stan O’ War II through the steam visibly rising from his coffee mug.

He sighs contently.

“Mornin’” Stan’s voice sounds beside him, gruff with sleep. When Ford turns to look at him, he’s rubbing at his eyes with one hand while he holds a steaming cup of coffee in his other. He’s already donning one of the sweaters Mabel mailed to him, a deep blue with a tropical island and a treasure chest stitched across the chest.

Ford smirks. “You’re up early”

Stan cocks an eyebrow as he sips from his coffee. “A’course I am. I always get up early when we’re docking to see the kids”

Ford blinks, the teasing smirk on his face melting into a gentle smile. “That’s today?”

“Haven’t you checked the calendar lately?” Stan tosses a second handmade sweater at Ford. This one’s the same shade of maroon as his journal covers, and pictures an angry cycloptopus squirting ink towards the bottom left corner of the sweater. “The kids are on spring break. They talked to their parents about letting us have ‘em all week”

Ford is quick to pull the warm sweater over his head. “All week?”

He can’t help sounding like a broken record, but it’s been months since the last time he saw the kids face to face. Sure, they talk over video at least once a week, but nothing beats seeing their smiling faces and having them nearly tackle him to the ground in a hug in-person.

“Heh, you miss em too, Sixer?”

As little as two years ago, Ford would’ve flinched at the nickname. But Bill is gone for good, and Ford knows that Bill is gone for good, and Stan made a promise to do anything in his power to help him reclaim the nickname. He brings his mug close to his face without taking a sip, allowing himself to take in the warmth in his hands and the steam in his face.

“Not as much as you, clearly” Ford smirks, and Stan crosses his arms over his chest.

“You bet I missed them more than you. I’d been taking care of them all summer before you showed up and fell in love with them in half that time”

Ford smirks as he finishes up his coffee and heads into the navigation room to set their course. “By that logic, wouldn’t that mean that I miss them more, since I had less time with them?”

“Hey!” Stan groans as he follows him into the room. “It does not. It means that you don’t know them like I know them, genius. Everyone knows that it’s all about how much time you’ve spent with a person that determines how close you are with them”

Ford laughs as he enters the coordinates they need to get to the seaport they were meeting the young twins at. From the looks of it, it’d be three hours before they arrived.

“Mm, and who put that study together? Was it you?”

Stan doesn’t reply with words, just a noise that sounds halfway between disgruntled and baffled. It makes Ford laugh even harder, and he wipes at his eyes with a wrist. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Stan’s overdramatic pout melt away until he’s laughing too.

The sight of it makes the smile on Ford’s face widen. It’d been decades since the two of them were able to just be like this. It’d been so long since the last time Ford heard Stan’s genuine laugh that he’d gone and forgotten what it sounded like altogether. When he was still traveling the multiverse, he searched far and wide for a shred of hope, something to keep his anxieties and nightmares from catching up to him.

What a fool he’d been to ignore his childhood memories of home.

The trip is a quiet but familiar one. Ford can’t talk much when he’s steering because he needs to be on constant lookout, but Stan remains in the room to talk at him and keep him company anyway. The sun is well over the horizon by the time they reach the seaport, and call it instincts, intuition, or something else entirely, because Ford spots the kids sitting on a bench in the near distance the moment he and Stan step foot onto the dock.

They’re squished closely together, watching a video on Mabel’s phone. Whether they’re aware of it or not, they’re swaying their legs back and forth underneath the bench in perfect unison. On the ground beside them are their backpacks, overstuffed with so many things that both of them are popping open.

Most importantly, neither of them have noticed that Ford and Stan are approaching them.

Ford exchanges an amused glance with Stan, and clears his throat to catch their attention.

The phone nearly stumbles out of their hands in shock when they look up and meet their eyes.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel squeals, standing to sprint past Ford to knock Stan off of his feet. Ford chuckles at the sight, but not quickly enough to hear Dipper’s “Great Uncle Ford!”, and before he knows it he’s hitting the floor too. The young twins are laughing messes, and stumble over each other as they try to stand to their feet and help their Grunkles up.

Mabel spits out the hair that stuck to her mouth, and pulls a hair tie seemingly out of thin air to tie her hair up into a ponytail. It’s only now that Ford realizes that she and Dipper are also both wearing sweaters, and if Ford had to guess, it looks like Mabel made both of these sweaters as well. Mabel’s is a galaxy print with actual twinkling stars, and Ford makes a mental note to ask her later what she did to make it glow like that. Dipper’s is also space themed, though his pictures the big dipper splotched across a black night sky with a bright orange meteor shooting through the center.

“You have to tell us about everything you’ve encountered”, Dipper beams, once Stan finishes brushing himself off.

Stan cocks an eyebrow. “Two years’ worth is a lot to get through, kiddo”

“Exactly!” Mabel beams, turning to pick up her backpack and put it on. “Which is exactly why you can tell us on the way to the hotel!”

“Hotel?” Ford and Stan ask in unison.

“Surprise?” Dipper giggles. “Our parents rented us a hotel room for the week cause they figured you’d appreciate some time away from the boat”

“It’ll be like our summer in Gravity Falls all over again!” Mabel grins. “But in reverse! You’re in our territory now”

Stan laughs. “You’re the boss, kiddo”

“You bet I am!” She beams, and hands Dipper his backpack. “Now c’mon! If you tell us all of the horrors you’ve encountered out at sea, we’ll tell you about all the horrors we’ve encountered in high school!”

“I...think I remember those horrors pretty well already, thank you” Ford smiles sheepishly, adjusting his glasses. “But we’d be more than glad to tell you some of our own stories”

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, but Ford honestly wouldn’t mind if they walked all the way to the hotel on foot if it meant an extra half an hour with the kids. They’re just as eccentric as he remembers, attached at the hip but still wildly different people all on their own. Dipper’s still hanging on to every word he’s saying, and Mabel’s still skipping along like she’s in her own world.

Once they reach the hotel and check in, Dipper collapses face first onto one of the beds the moment he steps into the room, groaning.

Stan smiles. “Something bothering you, kiddo?”

He turns on his side to look Stan in the eye, his face smushing into the pillow. “Mabel didn’t let me get any sleep last night. She insisted on getting to the seaport three whole hours early because she insisted that she had this gut feeling that you guys would have the same idea and we’d magically show up at the same time”

Mabel pouts, and sits on the bed besides him. “Well it’s not my fault you stayed up late reading that dumb book of yours. Plus, would you rather have kept them waiting for three hours?”

Dipper removes his hat and places it on the table beside him, exposing just enough of his forehead through his hair to reveal his birthmark. It has the same faint glow to it as Mabel’s sweater, and Ford wonders how the two could possibly reflect off of each other.

“Their boat has beds and a fully stocked kitchen, Mabel. They can afford to wait. All we had were those strawberry pop tarts that you ate five minutes after we got there”

Ford can’t help but smile softly at their banter. He missed them so, so, much more than he could’ve ever imagined. He’s got half a mind to stow them away on the boat at the end of the week and homeschool them both himself so he never has to be apart from them again.

Apart. The word still feels like a knife twisted into his chest. There’s nothing he regrets more than trying to separate the young twins from each other two summers ago because he’d been so caught up in projecting his own fears onto the pair. He’d tried apologizing to Mabel over the whole ordeal, but she stopped him before he could even start to tell him he had nothing to worry about.

He only wishes he could learn to forgive himself as easily as she did.

“...Can we, Grunkle Ford?”

He blushes. Had he just said all of that out loud?

“Can we...what?”

“Take the boat out! Not right now, since Dips is being a grumpy-grump and insists on wasting precious time with a nap, but we’ve been talking about it all week”

From across the room, Stan snorts. “Let me get this straight,” he takes his jacket off and hangs it up in the closet. At this point Ford swears his eyes must be playing tricks on him, because Stan’s old burn scar is glowing just as Mabel’s sweater and Dipper’s birthmark are. “All the time you spent groaning and complaining about fishing every time I took you in Gravity Falls, and now you’re asking to go fishing?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of a joy ride,” Dipper yawns from under the covers. “But if agreeing to go fishing is what gets you to say yes, then sure”

He’s smirking under the covers, Ford can tell, because he inherited that expression from Stan.

Stan’s about to bite back, but Dipper must not have been exaggerating about how long he and Mabel were waiting for them at the dock, because he’s already out cold. Stan smiles at him, gently ruffling up his hair before he takes a seat on the adjacent bed, kicking his shoes off so he can kick his feet up on the bed and relax. Ford sits beside Stan, and Stan slings his arms behind him to support his head in his hands as he glances over at Ford.

“They make you wanna retire the whole ‘treasure hunting’ thing and move into the city to be closer to ‘em too?”

Ford chuckles. “I’ve already considered hiding them away on the boat twice today already.” He taps at his chin. “Though I suppose that moving in with them would go over better with their parents then taking them away to live on a boat”

“Hmm…” Stan taps at his chin as well. “Being stuck in the same stuffy high school for four years, or living on a boat traveling all over the world whenever they feel like it? I dunno about you, Sixer, but I have a pretty good idea on what the kids would prefer”

“Grunkle Stan? Grunkle Ford?” Mabel’s voice suddenly chimes in, and Ford blushes, wondering how much of that she just heard.

“What’s on your mind, pumpkin?” Stan asks.

“Well, uh, Dipper was right about us only eating once really early this morning, and I was wondering if you’d be willing to, uh” She twirls her hair between her fingers. “Cook something for us? For old time’s sake?”

Okay, it’s settled, Ford’s never letting these kids go again.

“Sure, kiddo. Soon as your brother’s up we’ll head right back up, okay?”

“Okay!” she beams, and crawls back into her side of the bed, staring at Dipper like she can will him into waking up on command.

Though Ford would’ve been okay if they’d had to wait hours for him, it’s really only about twenty minutes before Dipper opens his eyes again and nearly shrieks in surprise at Mabel’s face hovering three inches from his own. He smacks his hand into her face to shove her away, and she giggles as she rolls off the bed and onto the floor.

Beside Ford, Stan smirks. “Better get up before we leave without you and all our food goes to Mabel, kiddo. You’ve got plenty of time to crash in Ford’s bed on the ship, since he never seems to use it anyway”

Dipper yawns, rubbing at his eyes as he kicks the covers off. “I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep”

“I didn’t realize you were even capable of sleep, bro-bro” Mabel punches him in the shoulder as she walks past him to put her shoes on. He glares at her wordlessly, and Ford has to cover up his snicker with a fake cough.

This time, the bus ride and the walk back to the ship are a quiet one. Ford never really lets himself let his guard down and relax for an extended period of the time, so he cherishes any moment he can get where he finally feels like he doesn’t constantly feel the need to check over his shoulder for signs of danger. Most of the time, if you asked him about his heightened senses, he’d call them a curse. But on days like these, when he can hear the birds chirping and the waves smacking gently against the boats in the seaport, he’d almost go as far as calling it a blessing.

The kids take a seat at the dining table as soon as they enter the kitchen, and Stan grins at them from over his shoulder as he clicks the stove on. “Whaddya say, Stancakes?”

Dipper and Mabel grimace in unison. “Ewwww, Grunkle Stan, you promised lunch!” Mabel scrunches her nose, and Stan’s grin only widens.

“Ah, ah, you said like old times. That means I get to decide what to make, and you have to eat it because I’m your legal guardian”.

“Well I wasn’t even awake when you were talking about old times, so I’d say that cancels out” Dipper crosses his arms over his chest, and Ford can’t help but smile warmly at the three of them as he reaches into the cupboard for his favorite coffee mug. The younger twins clearly had just gotten two copies of the same mug, but crossed both of them out so they’d say #1 GRUNKLES on them instead of #1 UNCLE. Stan has the other one, of course, but he keeps it on his bedside to hold small treasures and keepsakes because it’s, in his own words, “Too special to waste on something as ordinary as coffee”.

Ford sits himself in the seat between the younger twins at their okay, and after some back and forth banter between the four of them, they end up settling for burgers. Truth be told, this is the first time Ford’s eaten a meal in a group larger than two since the last time he and Stan visited the young twins in the winter, and he can’t help but smile into his food at the thought. The closest he’d come even remotely close to eating with others in his research years was his very, very brief time at the truck stop diner, and the experience had soured his view of...well, other people for near decades.

Now, though, he’d burn his own research dozens of times over before he’d even consider eating alone.

Stan’s chair scraping across the floor as he stands pops Ford out of his bubble of serenity.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” Stan cracks his knuckles, smiling mischievously at Dipper and Mabel. “I think I remember a couple of kiddos finally promising their Grunkle Stan he could take them fishing”

“Promise is a strong word-” Dipper starts as he stands to place his plate in the sink, but Stan’s already placing a fishing hat on his head before he can finish his sentence.

“Course you did! You wanna take our baby for a joyride, you gotta earn it first”

Dipper turns to Ford, like he’s expecting him to back him up.

Ford chuckles. “I don’t know, Dipper. That sounds perfectly reasonable to me”.

Dipper scoffs, sitting back down at the table. Mabel laughs.

“Aww, C’mon, Dipper! Aren’t you all about the supernatural? For all we know, Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford could be harboring magical glowing bait that only attracts, like, magical talking fish men, or something!”

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just receive a bottle message from Mermando last week?”

“Exactly!” Mabel flashes a grin. “That must mean that he’s in the area!”

Stan laughs. “You tellin’ me you only agreed to go fishing so you could kiss and make-up with your long-distance fish boyfriend?”

“Grunkle Stan, what kind of person do you take me for?” she gasps. “He’s married! You know I would never want to break apart such a loving couple!”

Ford’s smile only warms. Where else could he partake in such a conversation that doesn’t turn heads and result in judgmental whispers? Where else can he just be like this, surrounded by loved ones who are just as weird, just as out of the ordinary as himself? In his younger years he thought for sure his place would be among the monsters and cryptids everyone in his childhood made him out to be, but even in the weirdness capital of the country he felt more alone than ever.

“...Don’t think you’re immune, Sixer” Stan’s voice cuts into his thoughts, and before Ford can ask what he means Stan is smacking a homemade fishing cap on his head. “It may ruin your badass image when we’re monster hunting, or whatever, but we’re fishing with the kids.” Stan gestures to them with his thumb. They’re already outside, leaning over the railing to look out at the water in a perfect mirror of each other. “If they have to embarrass themselves by humoring me for a few hours, so do you”

Ford waits for Stan to join the kids outside before he takes his hat off to admire the stitch work. It’s not perfect, and nowhere near the fancy embroidery he and Stan have found in various markets across their world travels. But it’s personalized, and Ford knows it comes from a place in Stan’s mind that’s been stuck behind lock and key since he was seventeen.

Ford runs his hands along each individual letter, which reads POINDEXTER, before placing it back on his head to join the others outside.

Stan has, miraculously, already pulled out his joke book. Stan’s laughing too hard at his own joke for Ford to really make out what the punchline is, but the younger twins’ collective groans is all he needs to know about it. When Mabel notices him stepping out of the doorway, though, her expression shifts entirely.

“So…” she draws out, stepping towards him. “Is there a trick for attracting merpeople to your boat? I mean, asides from being super cute, obviously”

Ford chuckles, taking a glance behind her to make sure that Stan is out of earshot. “Stan’ll kill me if I tell you this, but they’re really attracted towards shiny things. If you tied one of his gold necklaces around a fishing pole and dangled it into the water, the boat’ll be surrounded in minutes”

Mabel offers up her pinkie finger. “I won’t tell him if you won’t”

Ford interlocks his pinkie with hers, smiling. “I think he’ll notice when a whole family of merpeople show up”

“Hmmm…” Mabel taps at her chin with her free hand, visibly mouthing a plan to herself. “Oh! I know! Come with me,” she beams, and before Ford can even open his mouth to respond she’s already dragging him back into the kitchen. She kneels down on the floor and opens the cupboard below the sink. “Got any empty bottles I can use?”

Ford blinks. “Empty....bottles”

“Yeah!” Mabel pulls a neatly folded piece of paper out of her skirt. “If I can send out my response letter the same time we throw Stan’s necklace over, he’ll never be able to tell the difference!”

“Wait, wait” Ford shakes his head. “You really are dating a merperson?”

“Listening skills, Grunkle Ford” she taps at her forehead, folding the letter back into her pocket as she continues to dig through the cupboards. “Used to date. We met at the Gravity Falls Public Pool, where he was stuck, but then I drove him to the lake in a golf cart I stole from the pool grounds because he really missed his family, and then he was my first kiss, and then we were in a long-distance relationship for like, two months, and I kept every single bottle he sent me, but then we had to break up because he was arranged to marry to prevent a big undersea war.” She picks up a bottle, shakes it, and puts it back when it’s too full for her liking. “I know it sounds, like, super complicated, but it’s all okay, because we’re still pen pals!”

Ford laughs, shaking his head. “No, Mabel, I had to ask because I, uh…” his cheeks warm, and he clears his throat. “Before I...came to term with my orientation, I...dated a merperson too”

The bottles in the cupboard rattle as Mabel’s head smacks against the doorframe. She’s rubbing the spot where her head hit, but there are stars in her eyes. “Really?”

Ford’s cheeks burn even hotter. “Yes,” he whispers, and takes a knee so he can get at her eye level. “Technically he was a siren, but yes, we dated for about a month. He promised me he wouldn’t entice anyone else while we were together, but I guess there wasn’t anything...there.” He turns to help her shuffle through the cupboard, and finds a near-empty bottle of olive oil that’s definitely been sitting down there for at least a year. He hands it off to Mabel, smiling. “I’m glad that things worked out with you, though”

To his surprise, Mabel drops the bottle and throws her arms around him in a hug. “I can’t wait to introduce you! He’s gonna love you”

Ford huffs a quiet laugh, and pulls her close as he winds his arms around her as well. The hug only lasts for a few brief moments, but it feels to Ford in those moments that time itself had stopped. Mabel stands, taking the bottle in one hand and offering to help Ford up in her other.

Mabel places the bottle in the sink and turns the water on to rinse it out before she turns back towards Ford, stretching her arms up in the air as if she were warming up for an exercise. “Alright, here’s the plan. You tell me where Grunkle Stan keeps all of his jewelry, and I’ll sneak in and take his necklace while you distract him. Got it?”

Ford smiles. “Got it”.

As Mabel splits away for Stan’s bedroom, Ford heads back out to the deck. Dipper’s leaning over the side of the boat pointing at something jumping out of the water, rambling excitedly to Stan beside him. He’s holding his fishing hat in his hand to stop it from blowing into the water, and his hair is bouncing in the breeze. It’s just enough for the edge of his birthmark to poke through his bangs, and even in broad daylight it seems to be emitting a faint glow.

“I found it!” Mabel cheers, bounding up from behind him. She’s wearing the chain around her neck, and for some reason the gold seems much dimmer in contrast to her sweater. She takes it off and hands it to him. “You wanna do the honors while I go and throw this overboard?”

Ford smiles, ruffling her hair. “Sure thing.” He walks over to where Stan and Dipper are chatting and picks up one of the extra fishing rods. Making sure that Stan’s too engrossed with his conversation to notice, Ford starts wrapping the chain along the line, and at the signal from Mabel, he tosses his line as far from the boat as he can manage.

Five minutes pass before Mabel squeals so loud that Ford’s afraid his glasses might shatter. He reaches for the gun he knows he’s got stashed in his pants pocket, but when he turns to run to her aid she’s leaning halfway over the boat wrapping her arms around a young merman in a tight hug.

“...so good to see you again!” She’s beaming. “I didn’t think you’d be able to find us so quickly!”

“Yes, well, you were easy to track down after we figured out the coordinates to the seaport” the young man says in a thick Spanish accent. “It is good to see you too! My family was so excited to meet you”

“Your family?” she gasps. “Did they all come with you?”

“Of course!” he grins. “We merpeople are very family oriented. Wherever we go, we go together”

Ford winces at the uncanny familiarity of the statement. Mabel must recognize the statement too, because she responds with “Oh, that reminds me! There’s someone I want you guys to meet! Wait right here,” she says, and comes bouncing back over to Ford. Taking his hand in her own, she starts to drag him back to where she’d just been leaning. “C’mon! He’s the one I was just talking about!”

Three more merpeople emerge from the water when she gently knocks on the side of the boat again. “Grunkle Ford, this is Mermando!” she grins, gesturing to the young merman she’d just been conversing with. “He’s the one I helped reunite with his family after they were separated by tragic circumstances.” She wraps her arms around Ford in a side-hug. “Mermando, this is my Grunkle Ford! He was also separated from his family by tragic circumstances, but I helped with that too!”

Mermando laughs. “Even when you think it’s the end, family always finds its way, doesn’t it?”

Ford laughs, shaking his hand. “It always seems that way to me”

“Awwww!” Mabel squeals. “I knew you’d get along!” She grins, and turns her attention back towards Mermando. “Before I forget, though, did you see where Grunkle Ford threw that gold necklace? If I don’t get it back my Grunkle Stan’s gonna kill me”

Mermando laughs again. “I was wondering if that belonged to any of you!” He takes off his shell necklace to reveal that he’d put Stan’s necklace on around his neck. He takes that off, too, and offers it to Ford. “I much prefer this one, anyway” he clicks his shell necklace open, revealing it to be a locket with a picture of his family inside.

Ford takes the gold necklace back, and he means to thank him, but a bell ringing from elsewhere in the port interrupts him before he can open his mouth. Mermando turns to Mabel, taking her hands in his own. “We must go. I’m so sorry we have to leave so soon, but we merpeople recognize the sounds of fishing boats very easily. We’ll try to come back later this week” He opens his arms for her once more, and Mabel wraps his arms around him in a quick hug before she watches him and his family swim away.

“I am so glad that all you were doing was hugging,” Dipper shudders as he and Stan approach Ford and Mabel. “I’m not sure my stomach could handle witnessing you two kissing a second time”

“Awww,” Mabel punches him playfully in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous that I had a boyfriend before you did!”

Dipper cringes. “If you having a boyfriend before I do means I didn’t have to be the one dating a fish, then I’m glad you were the one who got stuck with him first” He punches her back, and gestures at Stan over his shoulder with his thumb. “But anyways, I came over here because Grunkle Stan says he wants to get out on the open water before everyone else gets the idea, or something”.

Ford pockets Stan’s necklace and makes a mental note to put it away sometime later tonight when Stan is too distracted to notice. “Tell Stan I’m going to untie the rope from the edge of the dock, and when he sees me back on board we’re all set to go.”

Nodding, Dipper bounds off towards the navigation room where Stan must be waiting, and Ford steps off of the boat to take care of everything else. On the way to the bow, he traces a hand along the white painted STAN O’ WAR II, and a feeling of warmth sprouts in his chest. Once back on board, he waves to Stan as he passes besides the navigation room once more, and takes a seat on one of the beach chairs they liked to keep aboard.

Most days, Ford prefers to be the one at the wheel. But every once in a while he just wants to be. All he wants to do is lean back in one of their beach chairs and let the sun warm his face. It’s a good kind of warm, the same way spending time with the kids and heavy rain hitting his bedroom window and planning new escapades with Stan feel warm. After so, so long of only knowing unbearable burns, it feels indescribable to have a constant back in his life that heals, rather than hurts.

“Mind if we join you?” Dipper asks, and Ford glances over to see both of the young twins dragging a chair behind them.

Speaking of healing constants.

“Sure,” Ford says, and can’t help the warmth spilling through his tone. They pull their chairs up on either side of him, and curl up to enjoy the warm breeze. Dipper places his hat on his lap to let the wind blow through his hair, and Mabel stretches her arms out behind her head to act as her own pillow. Ford chuckles silently at the pair, and closes his eyes to let himself relax.

All is quiet when Stan finally finds them a spot out on the open water without a single other boat in sight. The water is nearly still, save for the occasional small wave that gently sways the boat. The sun is at its afternoon high, turning the water beautiful shades of teal and aqua. Fishing is tedious, but it’s careful work, and gives Ford something to put all of his focus into. Two whole hours pass before any of them catch a thing, and Stan laughs himself to tears when it’s Dipper who pulls up a single sardine.

Typically Ford prefers much more immersive activities, but right now there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. The sun is starting to set before they realize they aren’t going to have much luck catching anything, and instead decide to take the boat for another ride around the harbor to look for a better place to eventually watch the stars.

“...Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper approaches him shyly once they’ve anchored the boat.

“Yes?”

He tugs shyly at the edge of his sweater. “I…” he starts. “I know you’ve told me that the multiverse was dangerous, and all, but...was there ever anything you enjoyed about it?” He pauses. “What were the sunsets like?”

Ford chuckles, patting at the seat beside him, and Dipper’s eyes light up as he sits down.

“You’re right,” Ford starts, folding his hands together. “I wouldn’t wish what I went through on even my worst enemies, Dipper. It was practically impossible to get any decent amount of sleep and even harder to find food digestible by human kind. I lost some of my best years to the multiverse when I could’ve gone on to become the most renowned scientist in the world.” Ford turns his gaze away from the sun setting on the horizon to meet Dipper’s eyes, but he’s frowning, eyes cast downwards towards the deck of the ship.

“But,” Ford adds before the poor kid can get too lost in his own head, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It definitely had its perks.” He smiles. “The sun in Dimension 18.2 would emit a sound that mimicked a lullaby every night as it set. Dimension 47’23 had three moons that would shift phases before your very eyes. I haven’t told Mabel because I’m afraid she’ll try activating a portal of her own and run away, but in Dimension 25-12, everyone and everything looks like a watercolor painting. There’s danger in the multiverse, but there’s beauty in equal measure”

“Do you ever miss it?” Dipper fiddles with his hands, like he’s trying real hard not to say the wrong thing. “I mean, I know you don’t miss being lost, or having no idea if you’re ever going to see home again, but...is there any dimension...where you could’ve seen yourself staying, if you thought you couldn’t make it back?”

Ford shifts in his chair so he doesn’t have to twist his neck so much to look directly at his nephew. “Occasionally,” he muses. “I met the most friendly faces in Dimension 52, so my mind does tend to wander there from time to time” he smiles. “But rest assured, there is something in this dimension that makes it my favorite”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper’s eyes light up. “Over every other dimension you’ve passed through? What is it?”

Ford gently nudges Dipper’s shoulder. “You and your sister”

Dipper’s cheeks turn bright red, and he looks as though he’s struggling not to bury his face into the collar of his sweater and disappear. “Really?” his voice squeaks.

Ford nods. “Everything I had in those other dimensions were fleeting, Dipper. At a moment’s notice everything I grew to love could disappear in the blink of an eye. The very thing happened to me in Dimension 52. When I fell asleep, I woke up in a new dimension I didn’t recognize. Things may have been more advanced, and there may have been dimensions crafted to give you your greatest desires, but in the end nothing ever lasted.”

Now it’s Ford’s turn to divert Dipper’s eyes, gaze casting towards the floor. “Stan was cut from my life completely in the dimension that claimed to be a perfect world. I had nobody. Even in dimensions that actively worked towards my happiness, I was all alone” Ford shakes his head, and turns his gaze once more out on the horizon. The sun is still touching the horizon, but it’s dipped just low enough that some of the stars are beginning to show in the sky.

“But...here, at home, everything is consistent. I don’t have to worry about waking up in the morning to find that everyone I love is gone. I can keep everyone in arm’s lengths, even when Stan and I can only communicate with you and your sister over a video call. I’m…” Ford gently squeezes his hands to reassure himself that this is real and now. “...happy. Happier than I’ve been in decades”

Beside him, Dipper yawns, and when Ford spares a glance over at him he’s smiling at him sleepily. “We’re really happy you’re here too, Grunkle Ford” he murmurs, and his eyes slip closed. Ford’s cheeks flush pink, and he has to choke back a laugh because that’s one of the first times Dipper’s felt comfortable enough to call him Grunkle.

Ford stands, so as not to wake Dipper from his nap. A small glance to his right and he catches a glimpse of Stan and Mabel leaning against the side of the boat watching the sunset just outside of earshot of his current conversation with Dipper.

“You finally bore him to sleep with all your nerdy science talk?” Stan asks as he approaches, sparing a glance behind him at Dipper. “Was starting to think that the poor kid would never get a nap in”

“Yes, well,” Ford smirks. “I’m sure it helped plenty that you bored him to death by taking him fishing first”

Stan gasps in mock offense, and slugs him in the shoulder. “Hey, at least I’m engaging them in something they can actually interact with, unlike your kooky alien stories, or whatever”

Ford can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “Bold statement coming from the man who dedicated thirty years of his life rescuing me from said kooky aliens” he says, returning with a punch of his own. Stan opens his mouth to argue back, realizes he has nothing to say, and closes his mouth. The sight of it makes Ford laugh even harder, keeling over and slapping a hand on Stan’s shoulder to support himself. It must be contagious, because it’s not long before Stan is laughing too.

Ford removes his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes, and cleans off the lenses with the edge of his sweater. Once his eyes adjust after he puts them back on, his throat nearly catches in his throat when he glances back out towards the water. He’s just able to catch a shooting star before it disappears over the horizon, and the boat’s just far out enough on the water that there isn’t an ounce of light pollution obscuring the rest of the stars in the sky. He takes a few steps back so he can look up and admire more of them at once, and if he looks close enough he can see them twinkling.

Before he can ask the others if they’re seeing the same thing, a bright flash of light coming from somewhere on the boat cuts into his thoughts. He turns, to make sure that none of the lights in any of the rooms are on, but no, they’d turned those off when they’d started fishing. Scratching at his head, he turns to Stan and Mabel to ask if they have any idea where the light is coming from, but that question catches in its throat as quickly as it formulated.

They’re the ones emitting light.

Or, rather, Mabel’s sweater and Stan’s shoulder, approximately where his burn scar should be. Those are emitting light.

...Surely it must just be the reflection of the starlight on the water, right? That same bright light must have woken Dipper from his nap, yes?

He turns heel to ask Dipper the same question, but freezes in his tracks before he can take a single step forward. Dipper’s forehead is glowing too, the same way it has since he and Stan docked the boat this morning.

It...It can’t be, can it?

Gripping his forehead, Ford takes a number of steps backwards until his back hits the wall. Maybe...maybe he just needs to call it a night. He’s been awake since sunrise, maybe his vision is just blurring because he needs to lie down?

He waves his hands in front of his face, but no, those don’t look any different. He squints, to make sure his hands aren’t shaking, but no, they’re perfectly still.

He squints at Stan and Mabel, just to try and see if his eyes are watering, and-

He gasps.

Mabel’s sweater, Dipper’s forehead, Stan’s shoulder; they’re not glowing; they’re twinkling like the stars. It was hard to tell in broad daylight, but now that they’re surrounded by a thousand shining stars, the resemblance is unmistakable.

But...that’s not possible. If he can see them twinkling, but none of them have said anything about it, that could only be if those were…

...soulmarks.

Ford suddenly feels like he’s going to pass out.

He slides to the floor.

Is...Is that even possible? Ford thought for sure that study he read years ago was nothing but a joke. Someone...who does everything in their power to bring you two together, no matter the cost? Someone who, even though you may not meet for decades, will feel as though you’ve known each other their entire lives? Someone who will do anything for you, no matter the personal expense?

Someone...someone like Stan, who spent a painstaking thirty years teaching himself quantum physics to rescue someone that anyone else would assume dead? The man who sacrificed his very mind, his very life, so he could be spared physical torture?

Or...someone like Mabel, the first friendly face he saw after emerging from the portal? The one who forgave him so easily after he tried to separate her from her brother? The one who insists on calling him a good person, despite all of those he knows he hurt?

Or...Dipper? His kindred spirit in all things supernatural? The one who, alongside his sister, sacrificed himself as bait for the most dangerous being in the entire multiverse? Who saw memories of him at his very worst, and apologized to him for snooping?

After everything he’s been through...could things really work out that well in his favor? To not have one soulmate but three, and the guarantee that they’ll never leave, because they’ve already expressed how they love him so?

There’s a tear streaming down his cheek at the thought, but he’s too distracted by a fourth light suddenly emitting from...himself to really notice.

He spares a cautious glance downward, and notices a pulsing light emerging from his chest in perfect time with his heartbeat. If he looks closely, he notices that the light travels down his arms and ties itself into a translucent bow around his fingers. If he looks closer still, the light looks as though it’s slinking faintly across the deck of the boat and reaching towards the gentle twinkling of Stan and Mabel’s marks.

Ford places a hand to his forehead, throws his head back, and laughs his throat dry, paying no mind to the tears pouring down his face.

#gravity falls #my writing #syd #cool kid squad 2.0 #ILYSM FRIEND

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typicalmidnightsoul · 5 years ago

Text

𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖇𝖑𝖚𝖊 - Chapter 4

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

*NSFW*

When Nesta and Cassian fuck in the prefects bathroom.

chapter 1 2 3 <- here

Nesta looked stunning to say the least.

Cassian’s breath was caught in his throat when he saw her, she was-

Exquisite.

She went straight to the front to her grandmother who embraced her tightly, a smile replacing the scowl that was there mere seconds ago. He turned to Feyre and Elain,

“Why does your grandmother not like you, again?”

“Because Feyre fought to come to Hogwarts, I took her side, she does like us, just mildly disappointed, and I think she’s softer now that Nesta is coming here too.”

He had to remind himself over and over again that Nesta Archeron transferred her from Durmstrang, that that school had changed her, and that she was different before it.

“She shows off Nesta like she’s a prize,” Feyre said.

She was, not a prize maybe, but a female of deep preciousness. He would show her off too, if she was his.

“Oh and don’t forget the fact of me being in Hufflepuff as an added disappointment.” Elain added, “Even Feyre’s house is deemed adequate to her. Nesta’s house unsurprisingly made her proud.”

“Why?” Azriel asked.

“We’re a pure-blood family, Az, even though Nonna couldn’t care less about our blood she does care about tradition and family, and in our family we prize intellect over being a warrior. Most of the people in our family are either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, with a small group of Gryffindors.”

Cassian shook his head, “But Nesta loves you, Elain, deeply.”

“That’s probably my only shield from Nonna’s wrath when she finds out I’m excelling in Divination.”

“And what about your aunt?” Rhysand asked.

“Like our mother, our aunt loves Nesta to heaven and back, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her. She loves us all and she doesn’t really give a shit about houses even though she was ecstatic when she found out that Nesta was in hers and mother’s old house, but she is particularly partial to Nesta and twice as protective.”

Cassian stood up, not being able to control it anymore, he had to talk to her, and he had to touch her. He walked up to her where she was pouring herself a drink.

He slowed; admiring her, the sequin fabric in shade of dark rose clung to her hour glass figure with flowers embroidered around her bust, a cloak of the same material hung down around her trailing after her.

“Nesta.” He said.

“Cassian,” she greeted, she was pleasant to say the least. It felt wrong, like there was another reason to a change on her behaviour.

“No biting today?”

She scoffed, “Not in the mood to ruin everyone’s day today.”

“You don’t, ruin everyone’s day that is. People are too in awe of you.”

“Hm. I-“a crash in the distance. Nesta groaned “I had advised that Nonna not let the first years come. Excuse me”

Cassian shook his head following her figure; he turned to make himself a drink when he saw another figure in front. It was Romella Donahue. Nesta’s aunt.

“Ms Donahue, I’m Cass-“

“I know who you are.” She looked him up and down, “I came to tell you that I don’t know what you want from Nesta but stay away from her.”

“With all due respect, why would I do that?”

“Because I know men like you.”

“Oh and what do you mean by men like me?” He furrowed his brows fully facing her.

“Men, who play with a girl’s feelings, don’t think I don’t know what goes on between you and Morrigan. Nesta doesn’t need a fuck boy showing her that she is not worth the effort of a man.”

“Fuck boy-“

“Don’t act stupid, I’m glad Nesta has Eris because he at least cares for her and shows her, her true self-worth.”

“Auntie Ella?” Nesta had come back, her eyes confused, “What is-“

Cassian walked away, out of the fundraiser and into the halls. He closed the doors behind him sending everyone the message that he didn’t want to be followed.

He decided that he needed to cool down; he needed a bath so he made his way to the prefects’ bathroom on the fifth floor to use his privilege as quidditch captain.

He sat in the bath for 10 minutes before someone knocked on the door.

“Whoever it is, I want to be alone.”

“Um, it’s Nesta,” she said, “Uh but I understand if-“

He hastily picked up his wand on the side with his robes and opened the door.

Nesta took the ajar door as an invitation and stepped inside.

“Um, I wanted to talk to you but you’re busy so I’ll-just,” Was he imagining this? Nesta Archeron flustered and stammering, any other day he would think it was because of him being shirtless but- no it wasn’t that, he could tell something was on her mind.

He moved the bath supplies on the side back, “Talk.” He ordered.

Yes something was definitely wrong because instead of snarling at him Nesta just sat down.

She took off her cloak hanging it on the side, Cassian kept his eyes on the stained glass picture of the mermaid in front of him in order to keep his eyes from deceiving him and travelling around her exposed skin.

He dragged his wet hair back, not even daring to glance at Nesta.

“I am sorry for what Aunt Romella was saying, it was totally out of order- she shouldn’t have,”

“I don’t blame her. She was trying to protect you and she wasn’t wrong.” She turned to look at him

“Calling you a fuck boy was wrong.”

“I don’t care what she thinks, but you,” He moved bracing his arms on each side of her and pulling himself on his arms and holding himself there, his nose skimmed the skin in her back.

“Where are you nowadays? Why is it that whenever I see you, your fire seems to have died out.”

Her breath hitched, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course,” His hands skimmed down her waist, “I’d pull you in but I don’t want to ruin this dress because it looks awfully gorgeous on you. So off.”

Nesta breathed, “What are we doing Cassian?”

“Why, I am being your distraction. Is there a problem?”

“Distraction. Right.”

He chuckled, “We are going to pretend that this is a mere distraction. Calm down.”

She ignored him until he said, “Dress off.” The pure dominance in his voice

She did as she was told glad to have a distraction; she stripped down to her undergarments and stepped in the pool. Cassian’s hands came around her instantly, pushing her against him,

She moaned as his chest pressed against her,

“Do you need an invitation to take it all off?”

Nesta whimpered as his hands came around her and undid the clasp of her bra.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked.

She shook her head, “No.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, Cassian taking the moment to grasp her breasts so roughly that she mewled in surprise; she glared at him, “Rough.”

“Should’ve gone to the Hufflepuff quidditch captain if you wanted sweetness.”

Nesta gasped again as he leaned down, biting down on her neck, leaving a mark.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t.”

“Is it now?” He said his mouth now replacing where his hands had been on her breast, “Why is that?” he said against her nipple making her writhe.

Nesta in her heat strung together, “Because I don’t like soft men.”

Cassian’s eyes took on a feral look and his free hand dipped down in between her legs, her black lace underwear was wet as fuck with her arousal, he pressed his thumb to her.

She cried out her head tipping back, she wasn’t one to beg but this time she would probably have too and Cassian- well he had every intention to make her beg till her voice goes sore.

He kept pushing around her nerves, watching the pained expressions of need taking over her face.

“Cassian-“

“Yes?” He asked pushing his thumb against the fabric while pinching her nipple at the same time.

She whined, panting his name again and again.

Enough, she decided, she had enough of him teasing her. She grabbed his face and pulled it down on hers, his tongue slid hungrily inside her, God she could die of this, she realized, she could die from wanting him like this.

He angrily pulled away, turning her around and pushing her against the wall of the tub. He pressed the impression of his cock against her ass, grinding against her,

“No,” he growled in her ear, “you don’t get all the fun when you made me wait so long to get you in this position.”

Nesta tried to turn but the hold on her waist was unbreakable. She moaned as he pushed even more against her, trapping her there in eternal torture.

She whined, “Cassian please.”

He smiled against her neck, “there are those missing manners. Hmm… should i?”

His hands slid up her front so possessively, that she whimpered.

His hands went on her breasts massaging them harshly, making all kinds of noises spill from her mouth.

“Say it Nesta, you know what you need to say.”

“I’m yours Cassian. All yours.” He stopped everything.

“Is that something you’re just saying because you want me inside you?”

She shook her head, incapable of voicing words and in the reflection of the floor tiles he could see sincerity in her eyes. He turned her around and picked her up placing her on the tiles of the edge of the bath tub, he hooked a finger in her panties and slid them off saying,

“I guess then I’ll have to grant your wish,” He dipped his head between her legs his tongues pushing against her the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs, he slipped two digits into her slippery cunt sliding in and out, that’s when her symphony of moans and mewls started all over again.

His thrust were shallow and fast as Nesta said, “Cassian, Cassian, Cassian.”

He pressed his thumb sharply making circles and she went utterly still, her hands in his hair pressing in. She let out a half moan-half scream as proof of her orgasm ran down Cassian’s hand. But he wasn’t done, not yet. He slid out of the pool, making Nesta shuffle back and press her thighs together, not because she was scared but because she had no idea what he was going to do.

He grinned at her maliciously, sliding his hands up her thigh forcing them to part.

“If you think we’re done, you’re not as smart as I thought you were, Unless you want us to be?”

She shook her head profusely, urging him to continue. He stood up, motioning for her too as well.

And the second she did, he grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her mouth against his, her hands were everywhere pressing against his figure, tracing his physique wondering how the hell someone could be this hot. His hands were now focussed on her ass as he squeezed it loving how it writhed against his greedy hands, he only came to this fundraiser because he knew Nesta would look like a super-model but never did he think that this was the night he would fulfil his fantasies.

Nesta pulled away for a bit, “What happened to us being friends?” He remembered that rough talk he had when he’d told her they should try being friends

He pulled her closer, his hands on her ass, her breasts pressed against his chest and said,

“You and I aren’t really the type to be friends.” Nesta’s face took on a lustful look,

“Cassian,” she wined, “I want you now.”

“Thought you’d never ask, “He said a feline smile spreading over his face. He tugged her to him. His dick brushing against her stomach, she gasped hotly closing her eyes. Cassian took that chance to grab her and push her against the wall, They stopped when they heard noises of clattering feet outside. Cassian grabbed his wand and recited,

“Muffliato,” then immediately after, “Colloportus.” Locking the door.

She grinned at him, “I didn’t know you could do those spells. I thought they were beyond your potential.”

He growled, “Keep chatting shit and I’ll find another way to keep that mouth busy that will only delay you from getting what you want.”

She shut her mouth but the smirk remained on her face, Good god what would he do with this woman. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pouting her lips and bucking her hips urging him to move on. He growled at her taking her breast in his hand and playing roughly as he slid his cock in inch by inch. He groaned, half roaring as he slid in, Nesta gasping and panting form the fullness in her. She rolled her eyes back tipping her head against the wall.

“Cassian, baby please.”

“Say my name like that again and we’ll be in this bathroom till morning.”

“I wouldn’t be complaining.”

He slid out then in again, and she mewled,

“Ah, I’m so close,” he was too but he wouldn’t not yet, he had waited for this for far too long and he’d-

Nesta’s walls tightened around him she bucked her hips at the same time,

“Come with me.”

He growled against the skin under her ear,

“You’re doing this on purpose you little minx.”

She smiled whining into his ear, “Please Cass.”

He spilled himself inside her the same moment she did. Their orgasm so powerful she saw stars, he roared as he came over the edge. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I do not regret coming after you.”

“Hm.” He grunted, still unable to make out words.

“We should go before Filch catches us out of bed at night.”

“Are you going to pretend that tomorrow nothing happened between us?” He growled.

“No, but I think it would be best that we-“

“Keep it between ourselves? Why?”

“You know there is something going on, with me and my friends and Nonna-“

“Are you gonna tell me what it is.”

She smiled, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“Will you be in harm?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Fine. But after whatever it is going on with you is finished, I’m kissing you in front of the entire school to let them know you’re mine.”

She smiled shaking her head at him, “Fine.”

Without another word they dressed and hours later in his bed Cassian could still feel the taste of her on his lips, in his mouth and he made himself a promise. He’d find out what was going on and goddamn him if he wouldn’t help her.

#nessian fanfic #nessian #feyre #rhysand #cassian #nesta archerom #prythian

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patron-saint-of-emesis · 4 years ago

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thinking about how i keep on doing stuff WAY above my pay grade at work and i kinda want to physically fight the owner bc i know i am not getting a raise anytime soon

[[MORE]]

i’m a waitress so like, my job is serving my tables and my side-work. that’s it. i get paid $4 an hour, which admittedly is nearly twice server min wage but. $4 an hour. and i am not gonna lie, i know i’m not the best at my job, but it feels like i’m the only one who works and puts effort in and its being aknowledged in every aspect except monitarily/verbally. my managers are ACKNOWLEDGING im progressing and doing way more shit than others but they will never say that to my face and they do not want to give me a raise rn bc they dislike what i’m like outside work. i make the most out of any waitress there in tips and i finish all my work with ample time to do everyone elses work too, cause no one else really gives a shit. and its. not recognized. all they do is put me in charge MORE OFTEN without any thanks or aknowledgement

im literally frothing at the mouth. like. im rattling the bars of my cage

all my friends work there and the pay is good so i’m reluctant to quit but jesus christ im literally handling all my tables, handling half of everyone elses bc theyre all new hires who were NOT trained so i gotta help them with the computer system/our menu/bringing out food/running checks, ALL the side-work bc again no ones trained properly or they just dont do it, literally half my shifts a manager tells me “im going in the back, you’re in charge, here’s my card if you need any discounts, you’re the only one allowed in the regester” LIKE. AT THAT POINT GIVE ME MY OWN CARD. LET ME IN THE REGISTER ALL THE TIME. i dont even want to be a manager but if they’re gonna fucking give me all this responsibilty at LEAST make me a head server/shift leader or be like “hey! good job!” every once in a while.

fuckin. all the new hires have been coming up to me for advice or questions. literally i’ve had them come up to me and tell me the kitchen’s being shitty so i had to go back and tell the kitchen off. MULTIPLE TIMES. i’ve even had to tell the kitchen how to do shit! i’ve had SO many people ask me to use “my manager password” for authorizing stuff and i always tell them and whoever else is in ear shot that i’m not a manager, i don’t have a password, i just have all the goddamn responsibility of a shift lead and none of the money or title to show for it. if you have half your staff coming to ME for management questions or work advice or how we should run things that shift, maybe thats a sign i’m doing too much managing or the managers are doing jack shit! literally most of my tables lately have been tipping me extra and telling me its cause i’m always sprinting around and busy, and i wanna just. course im always sprinting around and busy! bc im doing EVERYONE ELSES job! i’ve even had tables tip me 50%+ and tell me to please not quit cause the place would suck without me!

i’m just... i love this place and thats WHY i put all my energy into it, i adore this restaraunt and all my coworkers but i feel so taken for granted and it. sucks. id quit but if i go anywhere else its gonna be a big pay cut and no guarantee that anywhere else would be better. i wanna sit down my boss and managers and be like, hey, i’ve been busting my ass for yall since day 1 and i’ve gotten one raise in two years and absolutely no official moving up the ranks, but they don’t like me :) cause i started dating a former manager (after he quit) and they think i’m an alcoholic (which ??? hello?? its been months since my last drink tyvm and i’ve been v open about my sobriety nowadays). the problem is they can’t keep out of work shit out of work and i wanna call them out on it SO bad but there’s no scenario where that doesn’t end in me snapping at my shitty bosses and me getting fired

ill be FINE but if i dont get some kind of recognition im gonna smash something. preferably a full tray of food in the dining room. im going feral yall

#SORRY IF THE READMORE DOESNT WORK #IM GOING FERAL WORK HS ME JUST #BARK BARK BARK RJALH GROWN RAHHHH #im gonna copy/paste this and send it to my fucking boss #god i wish

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 5 years ago

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Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Seventeen

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

Roman walked outside, watching Damien and another man circle each other. Roman couldn’t see the man’s face, but he figured it was Virgil after their conversation this morning. Damien looked up and saw Roman, and Roman smiled. Damien paused and stared, and in a flash the other man had slammed Damien roughly into the ground. “You must focus, Your Highness, or else you’ll die in battle faster than you can say ‘oops,’” the man said.

“You’re right, Virgil,” Damien gasped, “But how can I stay focused when I see such a beautiful smile as the one I just saw?”

Roman laughed as he walked over, and Virgil’s eyes widened, before smirking. “Well, I think that concludes our lesson for this afternoon,” he snickered. “If you need me, Your Highness, I will be working with the guards. I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

Damien nodded and waved Virgil away as he stood, smiling softly at Roman. “How are you?” he asked softly. “Is your mother driving you up the wall?”

“Only a little,” Roman laughed. “It’s better knowing that you accept me, at least.”

Damien offered Roman a genuine grin, and Roman smiled back, a little shy but still happy. “I’m glad to hear that I can make everything a little more bearable,” Damien said.

“How are you?” Roman asked. “Patton said you weren’t leaving your room this morning.”

“Ah,” Damien said. “I spent most of the morning before I was rulely dragged out of my room by Logan considering what you said last night. And if you truly feel that your identity doesn’t suit you, I sincerely apologize for trying to force you into a mold the same as your mother was doing—”

“Damien, no!” Roman rushed to say. “No. Not only are you not my mother, I was lying last night. Just to placate my mother. I still think I’m a man. I know I’m a man. You were right. We’re still going to have to pretend you weren’t in front of my mother but—”

“—I can lie to your mother,” Damien finished for him. “My dear, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that. To be uncertain in your identity is not a pleasant feeling. I, for one, am relieved that you are still sure, even if it does cause you pain in the meantime.”

Roman was more than a little taken aback. “You were genuinely worried for me,” he said, sounding somewhat mystified.

“I...yes,” Damien said, brows furrowing. “Darling, I care greatly about you.”

“I mean...yeah, I know that,” Roman said, crossing his arms and cringing when he could feel his breasts. “That doesn’t mean that everyone who cares about me does what you do.”

“In my opinion, my dear, anyone who doesn’t care about your wellbeing or your identity simply does not care about you,” Damien said firmly. “Believe me when I say that you deserve better.”

Roman’s lips quirked upward. “Aw, you’re protective of me, how cute.”

“Shut up,” Damien said with a scowl, but with no heat behind his words. “Wanting you to be treated properly is something any decent human being would want from those around you.”

“Still, I don’t have a lot of decent human beings around me. Or I didn’t, until I moved here,” Roman said with a shrug. “Did your parents really have a talk with you last night?”

“I...yes, they did,” Damien said, glancing behind Roman. “Let’s move away from prying eyes and ears, however, before we get into that.”

Roman’s heart leapt into his throat but he nodded, and Damien led him further away from the castle, towards a small-sized garden at the edge of the top of the mountain that ran a considerable way down the steep hill, covered entirely in flowers. “I was never allowed to run around the garden when I was younger,” Damien said with a laugh. “With my track record for balance, my mother was worried I’d split my head open falling halfway down the hill. But it’s good for privacy nowadays.” Damien gestured to a bench by the edge of the flowers. “By all means, please, sit.”

Roman did so and Damien joined him. “My parents did have a talk with me,” he began. “It wasn’t as bad as what your mother was probably led to believe, however. They mostly spoke about endangering your safety, and that I needed to keep quiet about your being trans in order to maintain your status as a guest here. I argued a little, saying that if your mother could just understand where you were coming from, this whole ordeal might be a little more manageable. But my parents were adamant that the risk didn’t outweigh the reward.”

“Your mother might have reconsidered,” Roman said. “She tried to get my mother to listen to my side of the story today.”

“Did she?” Damien asked, perking up. “How did it go?”

Roman laughed awkwardly. “Believe me when I say you don’t want to know.”

Damien’s face fell, before his eyes moved from Roman’s eyes to a spot on his cheek. “You’re cut,” he said, reaching out a hand to gently run over Roman’s cheekbone. “How did that happen?”

“Ah...” Roman paused. He hadn’t even realized he might have gotten cut by his mother’s hand. “I imagine it was...uh...my mother’s ring.”

Damien’s face turned completely impassive in half a second. “She...slapped you?”

“Only once,” Roman said, cringing because he knew how pathetic that was. “But yes.”

“I’m going. To kill her. Consequences be damned, I will kill her!” Damien growled.

Roman grabbed Damien’s hands and pleaded, “Your Highness, I know this looks bad, and yeah, it is a little, but I can’t have you killing her yet. I need her in order to get out from under her and my father’s grasp. Please.”

“I never said it would be immediate,” Damien said, a feral fire alight in his eyes. “But I will kill them both. Ruthlessly. Efficiently. I would even go so far as to say I might enjoy it.”

Roman swallowed. “Damien, you’re scaring me.”

Damien closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “My apologies, my dear. That was not my intention. I merely want to make sure that you are safe. And your parents are not conducive to that.”

“I know,” Roman said, swallowing. “I wish it weren’t true, but unfortunately, I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. I’m in danger whenever I try to be myself around them.”

“Fortunately, you won’t be around them much longer,” Damien said. “But four days still feels like entirely too long a time.”

“I know,” Roman said. “It’s far too long to get to safety, and far too short to plan the wedding itself.”

“Indeed,” Damien hummed. “Now, I do believe we will probably need to return to the castle in the next few moments, unless we want a feral Logan chasing us around the grounds. He told me he was going to be monitoring our dance practice this afternoon.”

Roman sighed. “Yeah, I bet he will be. Will our mothers?”

“I don’t know,” Damien admitted. “That probably depends on whether or not your mother was incensed enough this morning to require a talk alone with my mother.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” Roman admitted quietly. “And I hate to say that, but it’s true.”

Damien tutted and stood, and Roman stood with him. “Well, the one perk of her going toe-to-toe with my mother is that we won’t need to worry about her being in the room, so I don’t have to deadname you.”

“True,” Roman said with a tiny smile. “That is a plus.”

“So, aside from assaulting you, what did your mother do this morning?”

“She demanded I convince you I was wrong about being transgender,” Roman said. “And honestly, she might interrogate you to figure out whatever I said. And I have no idea how to plan for that.”

“I do,” Damien said. “I would simply tell her it was a personal, private matter that I’m not comfortable sharing with her without your explicit permission.”

“Ooh, that’s good,” Roman said. “It’s not demeaning anyone, it’s diplomatic, and it means I can give any details I want to at a later date without anyone calling bullshit.”

Damien looked rather pleased with himself. “I’m glad you think it’s effective,” he said. “It’s my go-to whenever I don’t have the time to corroborate lies with anyone else.”

Roman laughed. “My whole life at the moment is one huge lie. I don’t think we have time to corroborate that entire thing. Maybe just enough for vows, but everything would take quite a while.”

“Oh, God, the vows,” Damien laughed, opening the door to the side of the castle and letting Roman inside. “I really don’t want to think about the vows right now, my dear.”

“You have four days, you have to address it at some point,” Roman pointed out.

“True, but right now I’d rather address the fact that you consider your entire life a lie,” Damien said. “That, in my mind, is more concerning.”

Roman groaned. “Oh, do we have to do this?” he sighed. “I’m trans and in the closet. Of course my entire life will be a lie.”

“I...my dear, I know I am not trans myself, so I may be wrong, but I was under the impression that is not the case. You still enjoy art, and you have fun with me when we dance or get up to shenanigans. That is not a lie, is it?”

“Of course not!” Roman scoffed. “I do enjoy my time with you. And I like getting to create. But my name, my pronouns, a majority of my opinions? They’re all lies, just part of this performance I’ve concocted in order to feel a little better about myself and distance myself from the deadnaming and the misgendering. Really...I can only be so much of my authentic self even with you, because other people may overhear.”

“My dear...that is...” Damien struggled for words, if the furrowing of his brows was anything to go by as they walked through the halls. “That is incredibly depressing.”

Roman sighed. “I know. And this morning I did something incredibly stupid, and I tried to be myself around my mother. The actual confidence, the fed-up-ness about everything she’s been doing to me, and all. And it felt good to be myself, somewhat, but it was offset by the fact that I couldn’t very well be my full authentic self without being sent home. And the deadnaming didn’t help either.”

Damien hummed. “Roman, I have a question for you.”

“Yeah?” Roman asked, heart skipping a beat.

“Would you be your authentic self if your mother weren’t around? And by that I mean if she weren’t a threat? If she couldn’t take you away, would you feel free to be yourself? You wouldn’t lie about who you are?”

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” Roman said with a shrug. “It wouldn’t be easy, and there might be some false starts as I try and figure out who I really am, but I would want to be my authentic self if at all possible, you know?”

“Indeed,” Damien said. “And that’s what I thought in the first place. But I wanted to make sure that was actually the case before I started what I want to do to remedy this problem.”

“Oh? And what would that be?” Roman said.

Damien glanced around the halls before murmuring, “I’m going to try and keep your mother away every spare moment we have so I can get to know the real you better.”

Roman laughed. “You severely doubt how pervasive my mother can be.”

Damien shrugged. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s simply that you doubt how much you can get away with if you know how to spin it right.”

“Well, you have the unfair advantage in that my mother can’t read your tells,” Roman said with an eye-roll. “She can tell I’m lying when it comes to everything except my happiness. And I think that’s more willful ignorance than anything else.”

Damien shook his head as the two of them walked into the ballroom. “My dear, I really hate your mother.”

“Everyone does,” Roman said with a bitter smile.

Damien looked around. “Did we beat Logan to the classroom for once?” he asked.

“No, you did not, Your Highness,” a voice said from behind them, and Roman turned to see Logan standing there with a small stereo. “I’ve been here, I was merely grabbing something to allow the both of you to hear the music.”

Damien tutted. “Shame. I was actually hoping that perhaps I had finally beaten you at your own game.”

Logan smirked. “Your Highness, you could never beat me.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Roman said with a grin.

“One which I would lose,” Damien sighed.

“Oh, who cares if you’d lose, half the fun is in trying, anyway,” Roman said. “Remus would absolutely love the chance to beat a professor at his own game.”

“Remus being...?” Logan asked.

“My brother,” Roman filled in. “You might get to talk to him during the wedding. I think the two of you would get on, in that sort of ‘instant rivals’ kind of way.”

“Oh, what a visual,” Damien laughed. “Logan? Rivals with anyone?”

“I do have some capacity for rivalry,” Logan said with a shrug. “While emotions are somewhat...annoying, I do appreciate a rivalry, as it pushes both parties to better themselves. It is only when that rivalry borders obsession that it becomes a problem.”

“True,” Roman said. “But I still think you two would get on.”

“Will he be at the wedding?” Logan asked.

Roman blinked. “Duh? He’s my brother!”

“Then you can find out at the wedding. For now, the two of you must practice dancing again,” Logan said.

“Oh, that’s no fun!” Roman complained, but he laughed as Damien pulled him close and started to dance all the same.

“So, what do you imagine Logan and Remus would do? Out of curiosity,” Damien asked.

“Well, I imagine the very first thing that would happen is a prolonged staring contest,” Roman said. “Remus scrutinizing Logan, while Logan just kinda...stands there and lets Remus look him over? One of them says something snarky, the other cracks a grin or rolls their eyes, and they start to talk. Probably. Seems in character for both of them, at the very least.”

“Based on what I’ve heard of Remus Ayer, I imagine he is quite the handful,” Damien said, mischief in his eyes.

“Wait. Remus Ayer?” Logan asked. “How did I not connect the dots? He asked for a tutor a year or so ago. I declined because I was moving here to work with Damien full-time, but he had a very promising application!”

“Oh, you could teach Remus a thing or two!” Roman said, eyes lighting up as he turned to look at Logan. “I’m sure he’d love to know any sort of gruesome fact about the human body. Sharing gritty knowledge is practically how he flirts.”

“Noted,” Logan said. “I will refrain from the macabre when he is around to prevent him thinking I am trying to woo him.”

Roman cackled and Damien was snickering. “I’d love to see the two of you go head-to-head,” Damien said. “If Remus is anything like Roman, that would be a sight to see.”

“It really would be,” Roman agreed, and they continued to dance, Damien twirling Roman for a brief second, causing Roman to squeak and laugh. “You are the worst!” he exclaimed, taking one of his hands to whack Damien in the chest.

“Oh, come on! You know you love me!” Damien said, a teasing smile at his lips.

“I will...I will kill you,” Roman said, his face deathly serious. “You, sir, do not get to say things like that when we’re about to be married!”

“When else am I supposed to say it?” Damien asked, biting back his grin.

“How about when we actually fall in love?” Roman shot back.

Damien paused in the dance and Roman’s face turned horrified as he realized what he said. “That seems a bit presumptuous, doesn’t it?” Damien asked, voice sounding somewhat strained.

Oh, god. Roman realized with a sinking feeling that Damien must not feel the same way. His voice said it all. He was uncomfortable with that implication. “Sorry,” Roman said. “That did not come out the way it was supposed to...”

“Clearly,” Damien said, looking like he had just swallowed a frog.

Tears were coming to Roman’s eyes as their hands dropped and Roman shrank in on himself. “I really didn’t mean for that to come out that way,” he choked out. “I...I meant like, if we were to ever fall in love. I didn’t mean it as a definite thing...”

“I would assume not,” Damien said. “One never wants to tell someone else where their attraction lies, especially without proof.”

Roman was scarlet and crying by this point, and Damien refused to look him in the eye. “I’m really, really sorry,” Roman whispered.

“I know,” Damien said. “And...my reaction was not exactly...stellar.”

“You’re well within your rights to be uncomfortable, I really didn’t mean for it to sound like that.”

“Uncomfortable?” Damien repeated dumbly. “My dear, I—”

Roman shook his head and Damien grew quiet. “No, it’s fine, Damien, you don’t have to try and make me feel better. That was uncalled for, and I know it. I won’t bring it up again, we can just forget about it.”

“If that’s what you wish,” Damien said, brows furrowed and a slight frown on his face.

“That would be preferable,” Roman agreed. “Let’s just dance, shall we?”

Damien nodded and they started dancing again. Roman stumbled several times, and he couldn’t shake Logan’s stare at the two of them for the rest of the circle around the ballroom. Roman’s face was on fire and a few tears were still falling intermittently. When they had stopped dancing, Damien used the pad of his thumb to swipe away Roman’s tears. “Roman, there’s no need for tears,” he said. “It was a simple slip of the tongue. I’m not offended.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Roman half-laughed, voice thick with his tears.

“You’re not,” Damien said. “You simply made a joke. That’s what it was supposed to be, yes? Just a little bit of banter?”

“Yeah,” Roman said, even as he felt a part of him die inside. He wanted it to be a love confession. He wanted Damien to like him back. But no. Damien clearly wasn’t interested in him like that.

And why would he be? Sure, Roman was a man, and Damien had said as much. But Roman’s body was undeniably “female.” What gay man would want him? His body would betray him for the rest of time. Even with hormones, even with surgery, there would be parts of him that simply weren’t...masculine. And he couldn’t understand how anyone could get past that.

And so his tears kept falling. Damien lightly hugged him and Roman hugged him back desperately, wishing for the contact to never end. Because then maybe he could fool himself into hoping. Hoping that Damien could one day see past his body. That Damien could love him. Or at least, tolerate him. But if Roman made jokes about them falling in love, how could Damien ever feel comfortable around him again, let alone fall in love with him?

They broke the hug as Logan cleared his throat. “You two need to practice your dancing more,” he said simply.

Roman sniffled and nodded. “All right,” he said, getting into position and letting Damien fall into line with him.

They resumed dancing, and Damien turned to Logan, asking, “Can you put the song on the stereo?”

Logan nodded and pressed a few buttons, and their first dance filled the space of the ballroom. Damien sang softly, but with just as much heart as he had the first time they danced. Roman laughed. Despite it all, Damien could charm him into forgetting about everything he had just done. Or, not forgetting...but not worrying. No matter what, love or not, Damien would be one of Roman’s friends. And if friends were the closest they ever got, well, Roman could live with that. He would settle for friends.

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13@sanders-sides-crofters@blushy-gigglee-mess@wannacrymetoo@kaytikitty@magicalspacepanunicorn@bootsinthesun@pricklyfish777@flowersanddinosaurs@leiasolo77@birdybabybird@enby-phoenix@luna–28@justagaygoose@the-prince-and-the-emo@fandomsandanythingelse@randommuffinyt@snekky-boi@thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot@twilight-trix@abby5577@escalatingtoofast@friendlyfacestabbing@remus-is-stinky@foggybanditdreampeanut@ghostskull300@sprinklestheditty@canvas-the-florist@askthesnake@samuel-the-gay@determination-saved@juicy-cashew@demidork84@why-should-i-tell-youu2@nerd-in-space@aphriteblack@loganpatton@lilbeanblr@kittyboof8@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch@sanders-trash-4ever@hamilspntrash@swords-and-kittens@phantomfander@narniasfinestavengingsociopath @rjmeta@ambersky0319@anni-cat-flower@idosanderssidespromptssometimes@nafsbluebery@redisawerewolf23@voidvirgil@msu82@angstyfanfiction

#roceit #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #royal growing pains #our creations

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