#I want to make it so bad!!! but I need to finish this cow first

[tj-crochets]

Cow sewing time!

Pink with polka dots was not the most commonly picked option but my grandma really liked the idea of a pink polka dotted cow so that’s what I’m going with lol

[bunnis-monsters]

Sacrificial Heifer

Bull Hybrids x Cow Hybrid!Reader

Commissioned by: @yuriohoe04

WC: 1k

A/N: Only 2 more slots for my commissions rn! Make sure to get them while you can. Once my comms are closed I won’t be opening them again until all my comms are finished ^^

Warnings: dubcon, breeding, lactation, pregnancy, gangbang

🥛 🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛🥛

It had been a week since the farmer announced that you and your barn mates were ready to be bred for the first time.

At first, the lot of you were excited, some even ovulating and ready to breed. One of your friends had her tail lifted up, and it swayed softly as she sighed.

“Can’t you imagine it, being bred by a handsome bull? Do you think they’d want to settle and become mates?”

You rolled your eyes, swatting her thigh with your tail. “Not likely. Most bulls are just looking for a heifer to breed and toss aside for the next one. You’ll be lucky if they give you more than a few minutes of your time.”

An older cow had warned you many times that bulls liked to play with young heifers’ hearts, and that if you wanted to live a peaceful life on the farm, then you’d just breed and go about your day.

That’s what you told yourself out of fear of getting your heart broken… until the day finally came to breed.

All the other heifers were filling themselves up, brushing out their hair and tidying themselves up. The pheromones wafting through the barn were thick, almost stifling.

This all changed when the bulls walked in. They were big, bulky, and honestly? Terrifying.

They walked in with confidence, eyeing the new heifers with keen, sharp eyes that told you they were more than experienced when it came to breeding.

“Alright, who’s first?”

All the heifers shivered at the authoritative tone of voice. They had never been spoken to in such a way. The farmers they’ve had in the past had always been gentle, giving their bottoms hearty slaps as they herded them into the barn.

These bulls didn’t look like they even knew what the word gentle meant. They knew how to work with an inexperienced heifer, how to breed them into submission and stuff them full of cum.

You looked on with a mix of nervousness and curiosity. The bulls were definitely handsome, and despite their rough way of speaking, the way they tried their best to look a bit smaller told you that maybe they weren’t as bad as you had been told.

Before you could retreat to observe them from the back of the stall, you were shoved out into an open space, landing in the arms of one of the bulls.

“A volunteer. Cute one too.”

You yelped as your ass was groped, the bull squeezing it lightly before inspecting your face. “Little heifer, no need to be nervous. Gonna put a calf in you, alright?”

“Quite small, ain’t she?”

Another bull approached you from behind, lifting up your tail to get a better look at your fat ass. “Perfectly plump too. Got them child bearing hips… mmm…”

The feeling of a cock rubbing against your panties made your body freeze up. They both cooed at you, already able to sense your pheromones spiking. “Someone’s begging to be fucked silly, huh?”

One of the bulls traced circles over your clothed clit, laughing as you blubbered our half hearted pleas for them to let you go. “Hush, heifer. You’re soaking my hand, gotta breed that fat cunt of yours.”

Before long you were being hoisted up, a big fat cock pushing against your pussy. It was huge, and you were sure it would tear your body in two!

“Sure this little thing can take it?” another bull asked, this one playing with your clit as the other two bulls prepped your hole. “Smallest heifer in the herd I’ve seen so far…”

“She’ll take it.”

And with that, he rutted into you, stretching your fat pussy out as he bounced you on his cock. It was painful at first, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, but your body was built for this. You were made to be bred by bulls, to get pregnant and produce milk and calves.

You felt your pussy gush as he fucked into you, biting into your shoulder. “That’s it, baby. Cream on my cock, lemme hear you cry out for me.”

You were passed around by the bulls, feeling so full and happy. As you were bent over and groped by another bull, you let out the prettiest of moans.

“God, that’s it, that’s a good heifer. Take my load, fuck…”

A bull took one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling as another mounted and bred you thoroughly. Before you were a virgin, and now you were being fucked by so many different cocks that you could barely think.

They rolled you onto your tummy, lifting your ass into the air and eating the cum out of your pussy, wanting to give you a nice and fresh creampie and hoping their’s would be the load to impregnate your fertile womb.

All the other heifer’s watched in awe and jealousy as the bulls kept their attention on you, unable to spare a second glance to the others. You were so cute, a small, chubby little heifer that was perfect for beating calves. How the hell were they supposed to breed anyone else when you were bouncing on their cocks?

By the end of the breeding session, your belly was distended, stuffed full of cum. None of the other heifers were bred because the bulls were way too busy doting on you after they all got a turn.

Now, as your belly began to swell with a calf and your tits got heavy and full, the bulls couldn’t help but cum all over and in you. Your pretty mouth and pussy was always keeping someone’s cock nice and warm.

Drinking milk from your fat and heavy tits was the best part of their day. They had to test your milk to make sure it was high quality… and they also just wanted to suck on your nipples.

After all, you were their perfect little breeding cow. None of the other heifers compared to you, none as sweet and soft and pretty. If anyone had a problem, they could take it up with the bulls.

You sat on your bed, being fed strawberries as your belly was massaged.

Maybe that older cow was wrong, because these bulls adored you with their entire heart… and you were excited to be thoroughly bred again once you gave birth.

You were a cow hybrid after all, and needed to produce lots of milk and calves. Being a breeding cow was your job…

And you were damn good at it.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @buckoothecow @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143

[scarybabe]

Thank you so much for being open about your strong fat journey!! It looks amazing on you!!

Would you be open to sharing a sample week workout write up, or some other reference tips to create a routine? As a fellow gainer girl it would be great to have a reference that works for my body type, and I love your results!

Forgive me if you’ve already shared this, or stated that you don’t want to (if that’s the case just delete the ask)

You’re a wonderful voice in the community, thank you so much for doing all you do!!

Ahh thank you!! I do have a weightlifting coach, she makes my workout plans every day but I can share my nutrition plans + my usual mobility stretches - this makes a huge difference since I was starting from being a couch potato 💕

Nutrition- 3 meals with at least 30-40g of protein each meal and minimum 2,700 calories but more is good! I like the chocolate mutant mass protein powder and put unflavored collagen peptides in everything. At least 100oz of water every day

Mobility stretches (look these up) - 12 reps of Cat Cow, Superman Arm Sweeps. 10 reps of Dynamic Thread the Needle (on each side), Kneeling Hip CARS (each side), 90/90 Hip Shifts ** my mobility stretches change slightly depending on what area I’m working out

At the gym - 4 x 6-10 reps deadlift on smith machine, 3 x 6-12 dumbbell hammer curls, 3 x 8-12 dumbbell Romanian deadlifts (RDLs), 3 x 6-12 cable machine lat pulldown, 2 x 15 each side mini band standing glute hyperextension (one foot on a riser while the other leg extends), 2 x 20 hip abductions (usually there’s a machine for these)

If you’re new to lifting the first number is the number of sets - take a minute to rest between sets or even a bit longer if needed. Second number is the range of reps you do. When researching these I would look up the right tempo for eccentric/concentric muscle contractions because that can really maximize the efficacy. I usually do a practice set with as little weight as possible before the actual set of each new exercise to make sure my form is good, bad form can cause sprains, imbalances or soreness.

I finish my weightlifting with some cooldown stretches - today it’s 60 secof wide leg oblique stretching, 60 sec childs pose lat stretch, 60 sec prone cross over leg glute stretch

~~~~~

Monday - Friday I rotate through different muscle groups so I just shared my Monday routine (pull day!) and my coach tailors it to my personal goals as well. There’s a lot of good weightlifting programs online for free! I don’t do an ounce of cardio either, only strength training.

Thank you for your kind words, I hope this sparks interest in anyone else who may wanna try getting strong. I have a membership to a cheap 24/7 local gym because when I first started I was kinda shy to be watched as I figured out my form and all that 🤣 places like that are good for beginners

[maevebabyy]

i would like manon gf thoughts next please ☝️☝️

MANON AS UR GF

a/n - i can’t believe it took me so long to write for manon…..

gf! manon who’s love language is words of affirmation. she never fails to shower you with sweet compliments and messages, always reminding you how perfect you are.

gf! manon who leaves you little notes in your bag or on the bathroom mirror because she has an early schedule, telling you how much she loves you and how much she hates that she can’t stay longer.

gf! manon who takes time to celebrate little wins, whether its acing a test or finishing a project, always cheering you on and making you feel special.

gf! manon who enjoys late-night drives, blasting your favourite playlists while being the best passenger princess there is.

“and finally you put me first!” manon sings out excitedly, her head bobbing along to beyoncé, her left hand intertwined with yours as you kept one hand on the wheel. “baby, it’s you!” she turns to look at you, her eyes sparkling, belting her heart out to the chorus, “you’re the one i love! you’re the one i need!”

gf! manon who appreciates the small things, like holding your hand during walks or stealing quick kisses when no one is looking.

gf! manon who wants to being you back to switzerland so bad with her because she loves enjoying the outdoors with you.

“just think about it,” she says softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “the mountains back in switzerland are so pretty. plus, think of all the cute cows!”

gf! manon who enjoys planning surprise dates, whether its a cozy night in playing board games or a trip to a local music café.

gf! manon who has an album dedicated specifically for the both of you saved in her photo gallery. often switching out her lockscreen wallpaper to a photo within the album to keep those memories close.

gf! manon who has a knack for making you laugh, whether it’s her goofy impressions or stupid dad jokes, always knowing how to brighten up your day.

“you know i’m basically a comedian, right?” she’ll tease, grinning.

gf! manon who loves when you play with her hair while you relax together, all cuddled up on her bed.

gf! manon who enjoys reflecting on your relationship. thinking fondly of how far you two have come and how grateful she is for every moment you two spend together.

[thedevilsoftruth]

Y'all saw this coming. Strap in your seat belts, you sexy people. Daddies back in action. Im sorry if this comes as a shock to people who follow me and dont enjoy NSFW content. It's just what i do here. This is the first nsfw post of Shane on here. Im also sorry to my Moon Knight girlies, Marc will be back again in a while. And remember, if you don't like it...

... don't read it. :))

Nsfw Shane Hcs for the soul ♡

He's a nervous little guy when you ask him for it. He just gets all flustered and will bottom out on you halfway through.

When he's the one asking for it... oh boy.

He's 100% not pressuring about it. He beats around the bush a lot. " I don't know, am I trying to get into your pants? Oh geez, why would I ever want to do that.... " As he's hugging from behind, pushing you into the counter and attacking your neck with sloppy kisses.

He'll deny his intentions on clearly trying to have sex with you as a way to tease you, and then when he gets in bed with you... well... the rest is history.

He runs out of stamina easily, so he likes to start off with foreplay or oral as a way to, as he says, " get the juices flowing " but really just to make sure you're comfortable, and he doesn't hurt you when he actually bangs you.

Horrible, terrible, down bad, filthy, outrageous, uncontrollable breeding kink. Always uses protection, but when the question is brought up of having kids, Lord have mercy, that man is ON HIS KNEES. His ears are PERKED up like a cartoon character. He likes finishing in you, but the idea of raising children with you is something he's always thought about. It's the least thing he can do to contribute to his family; keep the bloodline going.

Not the best performance when he's drunk. Towards the end, he'll get a bit faster, but he will be bottomed out half the time.

I know I'm talking about him bottoming out a lot, but he is a classic, slow, vanilla, missonary kinda guy. Bdsm freaks him the fuck out.

He just really doesn't want to hurt you. He's down for something rougher if that's what you want, but it's only if that what you want. He will always put YOU and YOUR safety before his.

" Am I hurting you? " He will slow down in the middle of your session to check up on you and make sure you're okay and comfortable. " Do you need me to stop? " etc.

And he's funny too. That man is hilarious in bed. He his making references to old movies in bed with you, he's singing songs, he's just being a dork. " You could say I'm rather.. cocky " as he's whipping it out. Really, bad, bad, horrible jokes, but that's the point of it. He just wants to make it more light-hearted for you so that you're happy and content with him.

Sometimes he'll play music. Marvin Gaye is a go-to.

And when he's done, he always gives you a nice massage and cleans you up. On his good days, he'll give you a bath. But his favorite thing is giving you a massage. He's experienced, too, with massaging the cows.

He lets you sleep on his chest when you're both done for the night. The next morning, he feels so. Fucking. Guilty.

" Baby, are you sore? Is there anything I can do? " is all he's able to ask you. He cares about you a lot, and he doesn't want to hurt you. He knows your hips have to hurt, especially with having to do your farm work in the morning. He'll ask you to stay in bed with him, and if you refuse, he'll make you dinner and then watch a movie with you and give you another massage.

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hello everyone it’s another Wednesday ✨ Thanks for the tag @hircines-hunter loved seeing blorbo children and I’m also bringing blorbo children 🥰

Tagging: @lucien-lachance @dirty-bosmer (know you’re v busy so tagging you so you can have a laugh 🤭) @firefly-factory @pocket-vvardvark @ladytanithia @umbracirrus

@bougainvillea-and-saltwater @captain-of-silvenar @changelingsandothernonsense @thequeenofthewinter @scholarlyhermit (if you’d like to join in ☺️)

This week I’m working on finishing the second part of a fic I put out in November called You Didn’t Say Your Parents Were… in which Theodora’s daughter brings home her new boyfriend from the CoW to meet her family. This snippet is over dinner while Theo is sharing some of her Skyrim stories, particularly how she wound up in Cidhna Mine and her eldest is being a bit of a shit disturber 😛

“Oddly comforting to hear Markarth has not changed.” Theodora and Ondolemar share a knowing look before he leaves the room.

“Some things never change, love.” Looking back at him, she provides the truth. “The first time I went to Markarth, I cannot remember what brought me there now, but I ended up investigating corruption within the city. There’s more corruption than there is city, truthfully. That investigation got me thrown in the prison, Cidhna Mine, a dreadful place where supposedly you earn your freedom mining silver. Not that anyone has gained freedom, let us not be mistaken. Only prison in Skyrim to be privately owned. It was there I met the Forsworn leader, the King in Rags Madanach and aided him in escaping. He managed to escape and just when I thought I’d be hauled back to prison, the Jarl’s guards told me my name was clear. Apologized for arresting the Dragonborn and the Silver-Blood family, Markarth’s elite who own half the city, even held a celebration for me. A way for them to cover themselves, arresting the Dovahkiin is not a good look and I was also newly joined the Legion. They did not need the Empire looking too closely at them.” She sighs deeply. “But I did not defeat Madanach, I was sympathetic to their cause but honestly I was more concerned with not rotting underground for the rest of my life.”

There had been much, much more to the story than Ralos anticipated, but how intriguing was it to learn that the truth was far stranger than the rumours made it seem. Heroism was complex as he was learning, rather rapidly, over dinner of all things.

“I’m so sorry to hear that Mrs. Vi-” He stops himself, falling into old habits. “Theodora, that sounds terrifying. Ceri has mentioned wanting to visit Markarth but now I know it is best to avoid it entirely.”

“You’re very sweet Ralos, but I would not worry. I think you two should visit, we own property there, Vindral Hall, you two would be more than welcomed there.” He gives her a puzzled look. “Though Markarth has a bad reputation, my experience being on the worse end, I have plenty of wonderful memories there. Beautiful architecture you will not find in another city, waterfalls, a very good alchemist at the time. And it was at that celebration that I met the children’s father for the first time.” Ondolemar returns at the tailend of this, new bottle of wine in hand. By Mephala these people can drink it seemed the wine was never ending. The Altmer refills her goblet yet again.

“That is true, we met that night. Though I did not know of your extent of your treatment there at the time, it was completely unacceptable.”

“You would have taken issue with it, even then?”

“Of course.” He responds. A faint snicker is heard from beside him, Arthano noticing there has been peace for too long.

“That’s doubtful.” Ondolemar makes the rounds refilling goblets, conveniently between Ricardo and the older one at the moment.

“We always encourage you to share your thoughts, speak.” Addressing his mother, he does share his thoughts on the matter. Sharing a bit of the messiness Ralos expected earlier.

“Well, and I say this will all due respect, Ata. Nothing but respect for you.” Reaching his arm out, he offers his father a reassuring look. “But wasn’t he awful when you first met? Or rather less awful and more…” He pauses, thinking hard for the right word.” “Stereotypical? Yes, that’s the nicest way to put it.”

“How kind my son is to me.”

If you asked the Dunmer if he enjoyed gossip, he would firmly say no. That he found no pleasure in the personal lives of others, no matter how juicy the details. Affairs, bribery, secret children. No, no when his aunt discussed those matters with her friends he ignored everything. Certainly never listened in, shocked by the hidden lives of the population of Narsis. Even further, he only listened a little when the other students would gossip, they conversed loudly in front of him, it was hard to not hear. And of course Ceri would tell him things but, he was listening to his girlfriend. That’s all, making sure she was heard and understood. Which is what he is doing now, making sure he is attentive to her family and if he happens to learn more inadvertently than, so be it. A very annoyed sigh is heard as Ondolemar begrudgingly gives his son more drink.

“That is between your mother and I, how do you even learn that?”

“Blame Aunt Phy, she tells me things! Also told me mother had a whole arena career I didn’t know about until I wanted to join.” Theodora laughs.

“Your aunt would say that, both those things. Do not hold your father’s past transgressions against him.” It is a quick comment, low and vaguely hushed.

“That woman let’s me have no dignity.” Their mother continues her point.

“It was a very different phase of life, for both of us. Clearly everything turned out as it was meant to. Is it not enough to torture your siblings, you must do so your father as well.” Returning to his seat, their father makes one more remark in response to Arthano.

“Should you ever consider a career change, your quick wit would serve you well as a jester. You could inquire as early as tomorrow.” The whole table snickers and even he laughs.

“Well played Ata, perhaps I deserved that.”

“Perhaps indeed.”

[writing-rat]

Lorraine's Secret

Pairing: Lorraine Day x Reader

Content: 18+ content, semi-public sex(?), Dominant Lorraine, biting, groping, G!P Lorraine Day

Summary: Lorraine is needy and she knows she wants you so she decides to invite you inside.

You were working for the Day’s farm as one of their animal carers. You also were their daughter’s secret lover due to homophobia being prominent in the town. You were currently in the pig pen, cleaning up their muck as you were humming a random tune under your breath while throwing the muck in the bin, jumping when you felt the broomstick hit your back. “Boss, hey,” you spoke quickly turning around, then was shocked to see Lorraine. “Oh, hey Rainy. How are ya?” you asked with a soft smile on your face.

“I’m doing alright. Daddy wanted me to tell you that he would be at the Farmer’s Market all day so when you’re done to stay and protect me as Mother is going with him,” she informed to which you nodded, and glanced her up and down. She had on her red jeans and that multicoloured shirt which fitted her body rather well. 

“I see, well thank you for informing me. I have the cows, horses and chickens then I’ll be done babe,” you smiled out.

“You better be ready to ride me,” she spoke before walking away before you could respond. You were flustered, trying not to think about what would happen after you did your duties.

It took close to 2 hours to finish before you stretched and took a quick shower in the outside shower. Every worker was required to do that before they went into the house for any reason. Of course, there was a curtain for privacy. Afterwards, you grabbed some clean clothes and went inside after changing, expecting Lorraine to be in a bedroom. Once you you closed the door however you were pinned down face-first while Lorraine was grinding against you. “Hi baby,” she teased, rubbing your breasts through your shirt. You were gasping and moaning as you opened your legs a little bit, ready for her. She was panting. “I’ve had the worst 2 hours waiting for you,” she growled out before stripping off your shirt, leaving you in a bra and trousers. You blushed hard, leaning into her touches as you felt your underwear being soaked. She had excited you that much already. 

Soon enough she yanked your trousers and underwear down, her need taking over as she pushed into you as quickly as she had stripped you. “You’re still so tight baby,” she moaned out loudly. You nodded, eager for her to move and it was clear with how you bucked your hips a little bit against her. “Ah ah, you need to adjust baby. You know that,” she grunted out and held you still before she slowly and gently thrusted into you. She was teasing you for being impatient, you knew that after a few thrusts when she stopped. 

“Daddy, please,” you moaned out loud, wanting Lorraine to just use you. You were her slut to use after all and she knew how much you craved her dick. “You want it so bad, don’t you? Wanna be used by me? Wanna give birth to my kids?” she asked cockily before doing a sudden, harsh thrust inside of you. 

“Yes daddy, please. I need your cock. I want you to touch me all over and I want you to impregnate me, make me your toy,” you whined out.

Just as fast as you had begged she quickly held your sides and was going as rough and fast as possible inside you. You proceeded to moan out loudly, shocked by how sudden she was. Even that was new. She was holding your sides in a bruising grip before one moved to your breast and rubbed your nipple. A sudden gasp came out of your throat before you arched your back against her own chest as she had you in a hold that was strong. Every inch of your skin was being touched in some way. You whimpered gently before she rubbed at your clit and groped your breast. “I’m already so close,” you moaned out. Lorraine smirked against your neck before she bit hard but not too hard it bled.  It would just bruise. You, meanwhile, came all over her dick as she picked you up and started to walk towards her bedroom. 

“You are such a good girl, let’s have another round, hm sweetheart?” she asked. You nodded, panting. “Get your back on the bed and your legs wide open,” she demanded. You nodded as you were put down. You stumbled over to the bed before opening your legs up. She immediately launched onto you as she was groping at your breasts hard before thrusting into you, the speed fast and the pace rough already. She was rubbing, pinching and flicking at your nipples too. This caused more pain in your body but you loved it, trusting Lorraine with your life and your pleasure. She just grinned as she was moaning herself, using you just like she would with a sex toy if she owned one. 

“Mine,” Lorraine growled out before she was marking all over your neck and shoulder (while keeping them in discreet areas). You just moaned as her other hand went and rubbed your clit, her one hand on your breast now keeping her up.

“Yours,” you moaned out in return, agreeing as you almost threw your head back against her pillow. That’s when you came without warning, Lorraine following your actions. She came inside you, however, but you didn’t care.

That’s when you both heard the door while cuddling a few minutes after you finished your second round and were about to start the third round. The both of you immediately got up and put your clothes on (which Lorraine had brought up somehow but you decided to not question it). One thing that was missing however was your bra and you were mentally panicking. There was soon a knock on the door, panicking you just threw your shirt on and opened the door. Lorraine meanwhile was in her bathroom, acting like she had gone to pee. “Howdy, boss. How was your market?” you spoke, opening the door and hoping he wouldn’t see your erect nipples… until you saw what he was holding.

Your bra.

“I am so sorry sir,” you immediately went to apologise.

“No,” he interrupted. “You’re a good girl for my daughter. She needs someone. You are perfect for her, and anyway… you weren’t the most secretive. I mean that time in the lake… I saw your clothes including your underwear and immediately knew what you were doing. Just… be careful, please. And anyway, do you think anyone would want her when she has a dick? No, a special person wouldn’t mind. Now… I’ll get going so you can change. Want some dinner?” he added on. You could hear the begging in his voice while he talked about you being careful. You nodded. “I promise to be careful. I will protect your daughter no matter what. And if you don’t mind…” you respond. He nodded.

“It’ll be good to meet you officially as family and also… say some rules for when you want to have sex,” he spoke awkwardly. You blushed and nodded.

“We can clean it up now?” you offered. He nodded with a smile.

“If you don’t mind,” he spoke then walked off. You closed the door, embarrassed as Lorraine just chuckled before she went up and kissed you.

“I love you,” she spoke and kissed you. “I love you too babe, now let’s clean up once I have my bra on,” you responded and Lorraine laughed with a nod.

[heavywithourbabies]

8 months with as much bed rest as possible. The sentence went through my head over and over again and I couldn’t help but smile like the cat that caught the canary. I pulled the car into our driveway and stopped the engine. 8 months. As much bed rest as possible. That didn’t mean total bed rest. It didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything physical. Just a limited amount of activities. I got out of the car and stretched and noted how much you wish you could probably do the same. Even the simple pleasure of driving and then freely stretching your limbs and back after. I went around to the back of the car and started to unload the massive amount of groceries that had put a serious dent in my wallet. Not that I cared all that much. Growing a baby took a toll and you needed the calories. Even if your tastes shot around wildly at a moment’s notice. Savory. Sweet. Salty. Healthy. Loaded with fat. I didn’t mind the ridiculous amount or cost. If this was the price to keep you this way I would happily pay a thousand times over. “Daddies home” I thought and laughed to myself. It was almost impossible to dampen my spirits these days. 8 months. And AS much bed rest AS possible. I walked through the front door and cheerily called out “Babe I’m home!” The only answer was a low moan coming from the bedroom upstairs. I sauntered in and started to unload the food. I knew it was a bit cruel but I couldn’t help but ask “Hey are you here?” I was grinning ear to ear waiting for the answer.

“You know EXACTLY where I am.” Came a cranky voice from upstairs.

I finished putting away the food and sighed deeply. I knew from the first date it was supposed to be you. We made each other laugh and connected on so many levels but for me it was your body. It was a shallow thing but it couldn’t be denied. The extreme curves, the thick thighs and dainty ankles, the pillowy soft breasts ready to fill, the ample rear���.. and the hips. God, I couldn’t get enough of your beautiful wide hips. So perfect in every way. the first time I saw you naked I could hear your body screaming what it wanted. Take me. Fill me. Make me more womanly. Place your seed in my empty womb and let me do what I was meant to do. ….How could I say no? How could I resist something turning you into the perfect vessel for my children. It was if you had been hand crafted to grow heavy with child and I couldn’t deny it…. I just didn’t know just how well you were designed to grow heavy with my babies.

I felt the usual pangs of guilt and the remorse over the career you had to “place on hold”. You claimed you never wanted this but your whole body certainly took to the process easily enough. And the wedding. What a sordid affair that was. I was over the moon but I could see the threat of tears in your eyes all night in that huge dress you found. Barely able to stand for the length of the ceremony as we rushed through it. I knew you were miserable but this was everything I wanted. You were mine, completely. And the whole world could see just what my seed had done to you. What you were helpless to stop. I pushed the thoughts away as I made my way up the stairs. It wasn’t such a bad deal after all. I had money. You and the baby (and all the ones to come later) would be well taken care of. So what if it wasn’t you calling the shots for your own life anymore? It was your fertile body and I working together. We just needed you to get with the program. Maybe today was the day to finally tell you that going back to work wasn’t going to happen.

I gently opened the door and smiled when our eyes met. “Hey sweetie. You look amazing.” I purred. “No, I don’t.” You sigh as you try to heave your heavy body up. I watch you struggle into a comfortable position and I have to force myself from getting rock hard. Your belly and massive breasts dominating your poor body steals all the focus in the room. “I look like a cow whose belly is an inch in diameter away from making me look like a whale.” You say with a bit of a snarl and I hear the annoyance and fatigue in your voice “ And these tits…. Jesus, look at what you did my tits. They’re so heavy and won’t stop aching. I look like a fucking water balloon.”

It broke my heart that you couldn’t see how beautiful you really were. Somehow I needed to get that through to you. You would be spending most of your time like this anyways so better to learn to love it. “True, you may be as big as a house, possibly a Mcmansion, but you’re my McMansion and I think you are the sexiest thing on the planet.” I saw you glare at me and I gently smiled. Poor thing. She thinks this is temporary. I made my way to the bed and sat down next to you, all smiles like the kid who got exactly what he wanted on Christmas. “Wanna foot rub while you tell me all the reasons why being massively pregnant sucks?”

“I can’t believe you think it’s even cute or nice to call your extremely pregnant and uncomfortable wife something like that.” You snap. “So, you want me to tell you all about why being this pregnant sucks? Even though I’ve been doing nothing but laying here in bed, feeling every little movement and growth, being uncomfortable, with my insatiable appetite, eating non-stop like a pig? Are YOU serious right now?”

I liked it when you were a bit angry but I would have to tread carefully. As much as the hormones running rampant in your body were working well for me they could also kill the mood at a moment’s notice. “ok, poor choice of words. I admit it. I know this sucks. And I know you hate it. But 8 months is a hell of a lot closer to the finish line than 4 or 6.” I gently grab one of your swollen feet and pull it into my lap. Even moving this little makes you groan a little. I set to work massaging it, hoping your body and I can work together to course correct the situation.

“I do hate it. I just want to give birth so this can be over and done with. Then I can go back to work.” You said in a huff.

“You just gotta hold on a little while longer.” I press my thumb deeply into the arch of your foot and try to hit the pressure points. When would I tell you going back to work was a pipe dream? Now? While I made you cum later when you were begging me to make you feel good? There wasn’t a great option for it. You let out a painful groan as our son twists and moves in your achingly full womb. I took one of my hands off your poor foot and place it on your heaving belly. I never really get used to how dense it feels. Your skin is hot to my touch as I try to soothe you and our baby.

You moan a little at the slight bit of relief and say "Why can’t we just schedule the C-section? The faster he’s out of here, the easier it will be for me to get back to work. My friend just texted me about a position that’s going to open up in a few months, because someone just put in their notice, but will stay until they train their replacement.”

I sighed. Better to give up the ghost now I suppose. I leaned in close and kissed your massive swell. “Because you’re not going back to work babe. You’re never going back to that job or any other besides this.” I smiled warmly at you as you looked at me with confusion. Was there panic in that stare? “This is your life now.” I said softly. “I’m sorry but it is what it is. You were meant for this and this is only the start.”

You pull your foot back from my hand, trying to also move away from my other hand and lips which are both on your giant maternal swell. But with my baby weighing you down it’s difficult to move quickly. “I’m sorry that you think that’s how it’s going to be, but once this baby is born, we’re hiring a nanny. I’m going back to work. And I’m getting my tubes tied.” You said point blank trying to take control back in the situation.

“No, you’re not” I say simply enough as I start to kiss your gravid belly. “In fact, as soon as you’re ready I’m going to make sure there’s more of my babies in your womb.” My kisses start to go lower and I can almost feel the heat coming off between your legs. I smile. You say one thing. Your body says another. “That’s why I made sure you got pregnant in the first place. I need you to understand your place in all of this.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean you got me in pregnant in the first place? You did this on purpose?” You ask, raising your voice. “You don’t get a say on whether or not I tie my tubes. The doctor will do whatever I ask them to.”

“Maybe” I say as I start to kiss the underside of your swell. My hands now roaming your perfectly vast belly and wonderful hips. Your struggling making me hard. The weight of my child pinning you down. “Or maybe you’ll finally realize what I know and what your body knows. You were meant for this. Anything else is trivial.” I pull the blankets back to expose you. I know you don’t even bother with pants or underwear anymore unless we have to try and heave you out of bed for an appointment. “You’re meant to be full of babies. ” I smile at you as I part your thicker and softer thighs. I can feel you strain against me but it’s barely a struggle. I look down between your legs at the thicket of hair that has grown wild as you try to buck and heave away from me. “Doesn’t this feel right?” I ask as I lower my head between your legs and start kissing gently up your inner thighs.

“No…” you say, your breathing growing shallower as I kiss your supple skin. “Leave me alone, you know I never wanted this and you forced this baby on me.” I know you’re trying to deny me now but then why are you moaning that way? How can I suddenly smell your want in the room?

“ Forced him on you?” I ask as my kisses inch further up your soft thighs. “I’ll admit to trying to get you pregnant on purpose but I certainly didn’t force your body to take to it so quickly.” I was right near your sex then, I could feel the heat coming off of you in waves. Like the rest of you, it had also swollen over the months and the once cute little pussy had been turned into a heavy mound with thick full lips. I gently licked the space between and despite your protests you whimpered. You desperately tried to grab at my head, my hair, anything to pull me away but you can’t get a good grip with your expanse of a belly in the way. “ It’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you… your wide hips, your large breasts, the fact your body took to my seed so well…..you were meant for this….” Just as you begin more protests and I feel you getting ready to try and kick me away I gently drive in with my tongue. Strands of your juices cling to your hefty lips as I part them. Your body and I are in synch again. “You were meant to be a mother.” I say before I eagerly set to work.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

all I did was what I had to - part two

all I did was what I had to miniseries

part two: this world is not made for you

series masterlist | part one | part two | part three

dark!raider/hunter!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a near-death experience, you thank Joel on your knees in an abandoned Burger King. (This takes place before parts one and three but is best read in this order.)

Warnings: dark, dub-con, dark!Joel Miller, raider/hunter!Joel Miller, muddled themes of captivity, attempted sexual assault (not by Joel), canon-typical violence, dead dove do not eat, watersports, piss drinking, oral (m receiving), d/s dynamics if you squint, humiliation, punishment

Inspired by this prompt list from @absurdthirst. I did not come up with raider/hunter!Joel or dark!Joel and many great writers have built in this sandbox before me

also on ao3

“What's got you all riled up, huh?” Joel asks as you’re drying your face off on the back of his shirt. He had done the same with yours, given that it was essentially the only unsoiled spot on either of your outfits.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh yeah? You haven’t kept your eyes off me all afternoon. What would I find if I checked your panties?”

“M’not wearing any.”

He should know, he provides all of your clothes.

Joel laughs, turning around and grabbing you by the bicep. “That’s right.”

He pushes you down, but you go willingly. He wasn’t wrong. You’d been buzzing with unspent adrenaline, the image of him haunting you. The blood on his shirt and arms is still wet from when you encountered the first man at the edge of the woods. Joel, with wild curls and wilder eyes, had crept up behind him, wrapped an arm around his chest, and slit his throat.

From your knees on the muddy, chipped tile, you can see blood splatter under his chin, barely visible in his beard. It probably shouldn't be making you wetter.

The men's bathroom of an abandoned Burger King is as gross as it sounds, but the windows of the restaurant were busted out, and you needed a place to breathe after the fight.

Well, he needed a place to breathe after the fight. You needed a place to breathe after, well. After.

He looked down at you and shook his head. “Bein’ good now ain’t gonna save ya from being in trouble.”

Damn. You knew he was still mad.

When he had finished carving up the fourth and last hunter, still in the throes of bloodlust, he had rounded on you.

“This is why I didn’t want to bring you out here. I told you it wasn’t fuckin’ safe.” He shook the blade at you like a teacher waggling a finger at a pupil.

“I’m sorry,” you had whispered. But you weren’t as meek as you should be, not as cowed. Because he had killed them all for you. “Maybe if I could—”

He stalked up, grabbing your (his) shirt in one fist, the bloody knife still clutched in the other. “If you could what, huh? If you could pay attention to your fucking surroundings? If you could stop wanderin’ off?”

“I wasn’t wandering! I was just trying to give you a little privacy; I only went around the corner.” You tried to look at him, but all you could see was the knife. And the blood on his forearm by your face.

He shook his head. “I told you to stay close. You wanted to go out so bad. Ain’t any bathrooms outside, sweetheart. What did you fuckin’ expect?”

“If I could just have a-a knife or a—”

“Shut up. You know you ain’t gettin’ a gun or a knife. Jesus.”

“You could teach me, I could do it.”

“I said shut up.” He shakes you by the fist in your shirt, and you purse your lips shut, eyes infuriatingly wet.

He let go, letting you stumble back. “Good girl. Now let’s get going.”

Neither of you spoke until you reached the Burger King.

Now, you wait patiently for his cock, with your mouth open, tongue out, just like he liked, hands clasped behind your back. “M’not trying to get out of trouble.”

“Oh yeah? Just need my dick in your throat?”

You nod.

He grabs your head and starts to unbuckle his belt, and you can’t help it; you jerk and scramble backward, catching yourself on your hands.

He’s so surprised that he lets go. You’ve never once tried to pull away, never refused him anything. Sure, you’ve hesitated for a moment, or flinched, but he’s not a monster, he didn't count those against you.

He puts his hands up, belt hanging loose, but you don’t see. You’re tensing every muscle, eyelids squeezed tight.

“Hey,” he says.

You startle and look up at him, and start to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise, I’ll be good.”

He finds he likes your tears a lot less when he hasn't caused them. He crouches down in front of you. The blood dried in your hair and soaking your shirt is enough of a reminder of what must have happened right before he found you. “Shit, sweetheart, I didn’t think about it. C’mere.” He pulls you in, and you let him wrap his arms around you while you cry.

Later, you’ll look back on moments like that and what comes after, and wonder why you don’t care more. Why it’s okay when it’s Joel. Why it didn’t even occur to you to try to take his gun when it’s just the two of you out here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no one around to avenge him.

It’s not a hard question to answer, but it’s a hard answer to admit.

When you’ve calmed a little, he stands back up. He’s scowling, brow furrowed. It’s not a good omen, but there’s nothing to do but settle back onto your knees and wait.

He shakes his head. “I think we gotta do it, sweetheart. Gotta erase it from your mind. Should only be me you think about when you’re down there.”

It’s not a surprise, really. You had known, when he found you at the hunter’s mercy, that you’d pay for it somehow. For getting yourself in that situation after everything he does to protect you.

So, even though a few more tears slip free, you open your mouth, tongue out, and wait.

“Knew you were still my good girl,” he says, and grabs you. He gets his cock out and holds you there, two inches from the thick, drooling tip.

It's hard not to fight, at first. You have to take tattered breaths through your open mouth. But it helps, somehow, that he doesn't take his eyes off you.

You hate that he’s right. You hate that the longer you kneel here, forced to relive this morning, that you feel better. You’re not scared. It’s Joel. And he didn’t let that man hurt you, wouldn’t let him keep hurting you in your mind.

After a few more minutes, your traitorous brain sees nothing more than his hand around his cock and how the same hand had been wrapped around the knife, had slit the hunter's throat. You’re desperate for it. You beg, and he grins.

“See? Nice ‘n easy. Alright, go ahead.” He lets go completely. For now, at least. He usually likes to fuck your face to finish, no matter how it starts.

You swallow him down, pushing until you choke and struggling to stay there. You give him your gratitude the best way you know how, the way he’s trained you to. You only pull off for a moment to ask permission to use your hands, which he grants you.

You wrap one around his thigh for leverage, pulling yourself closer and holding tight. You roll his balls with the other, squeezing gently and caressing. It’s wet and noisy, but you’ve long since shed any embarrassment about sucking him off.

He was mean, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t humiliate you about the things he wanted you to do with fervor. And he liked you begging and desperate for his cock.

He only holds you down at the end, when he cums down your throat. When he lets go, he steps back and looks at you.

“If somethin’ like that ever happens again, if anyone else tries to touch you, you bite ‘em.” He wipes spilled cum from the corner of your lip with his thumb and pushes it inside your mouth. “You bite their fuckin’ prick off if you can. They’ll make enough noise that I’ll be able to find you.”

He withdraws his thumb, and his face turns to stone. “Not that it’ll happen, ‘cause you’re never leaving the goddamn house again.”

Your face falls, but you nod.

“Speaking of which, sweetheart. You have somethin' to make up to me still. Now, I don’t want to punish you. You’ve had a hard day.”

The pause is bait, but you don’t fall for it. You don’t whine or thank him, not yet. The glint in his eye tells you he’s not really sparing you.

“I think, instead, you need to learn a lesson.”

There it is. Lessons and punishments weren’t very distinguishable—to you, at least, since they usually ended up with you crying.

“What lesson do you think you need to learn, sweetheart?”

“I shouldn’t wander off.” You keep your voice quiet, head lowered, and hold still. If he thinks you’re already halfway there, he might go easy on you.

Or not.

“And why’d you wander off?”

“Because I—you were—”

“Spit it out, sweetheart.”

“Because you were, y’know, using the bathroom.”

“You mean takin’ a piss out in the open.”

“Yeah.”

“You scared of seeing a little piss? ‘Cause I know ya ain’t scared of my dick.”

“It’s private, I just—”

“No such thing with you and me, honey. You kissed that goodbye a long time ago. You’re just spoiled at home.”

Oh no. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault, sweetheart. I spoiled ya. We’re just gonna have to get you used to it.”

You can tell when he decides what to do. His lips curl at the corner, and he strokes your cheek, so you know you’re in for it.

“Tell ya what. We can do it right now. Seems like the perfect place.”

You can’t say you’d ever have called a Burger King bathroom the perfect place for anything, even peeing. But he seems very pleased with the irony.

“Where do you want it, sweetheart? In your cunt?” He’s watching you too intently. “On your tits? In your mouth?”

You try to stop it, but you press your lips together sharply, stomach clenching.

“Bingo. You got it, sweetheart.”

You think about begging, but nauseatingly, it’s the best of the choices he gave you. The other two would leave you soaked all the way home.

He taps your lips. “Open up.”

You take a deep breath and force yourself to obey. Your muscles fight you, some part of you still sane enough to scream out against his treatment, but you win in the end.

Or, at least, Joel wins.

You look up at him. He’s full-out smirking now, not bothering to hide his excitement. You wonder if he’s actually turned on by pissing in you or if it’s just the power and humiliation.

Your bet’s on the second, otherwise, he’d have done it by now.

You know you're right when the next order comes.

“Touch your clit.”

“What?”

“Don’t talk back. Do as you’re fuckin’ told. I want you to rub your little clit while you drink my piss.”

You choke back a small sob and slide your hand down your sweatpants. Nausea swirls, and you start to breathe rapid and shallow.

He cups your cheek in his broad, rough palm, pleased when you obey. He pulls his cock back out and sets the tip on your extended tongue, leaving it there for a moment to watch your eyes widen, and your muscles tremble with the effort of holding still.

You’re still working at your clit, fingers rubbing hard as you try to concentrate on the pleasure. He rewards you by pushing his cock further into your mouth before he fills it, saving you the effort of struggling to swallow and sparing you from the strongest of the taste.

When he pulls back out, you sob freely. He crouches down and removes your hand from your cunt to replace it with his own. You’re wet enough that he dips three fingers right into you and grinds the heel of his hand against your clit.

“I got you, sweetheart. It’s okay. You did good. Go ahead and cum.”

And you do. You deny Joel nothing. And when you’re pleasantly dizzy after three orgasms, he pulls his hand out and sucks your juices off his fingers, groaning.

He stands up before reaching a hand to you to pull you up.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ home. I ain’t fuckin’ you on the floor here.”

We didn’t even find any books, you sulk in the privacy of your brain.

Except Joel was right. You have no privacy. When he glances at you, he knows. “Whatever you’re thinkin’, I suggest ya stop thinkin’ it real quick.”

The next time he returns from a raid, he tosses you a beat-up copy of “The Hobbit.”

*title from "Run Boy Run" by Woodkid, which I listened to on repeat while writing this, if you're looking for an authentic experience lol

[blueishspace]

Third Life but with divine domains

Part 3: Session 3 and 4.

Session 3

Session 3 is another session that is *mostly* untouched, people work on bases and do trades that largely resemble the ones from canon...

Pizza is found early by Grian since in this timeline he has an ability to highlight entities...which also means Scott can't lie to Grian about his cow being dead because Grian will know...And do Scott and Jimmy still steal the cow in the first place? Yes, in this timeline they have an even easier time as they are so so so close.

Grian just steals Scott's and Jimmy's cow since It's easier which really damages relations.

Talking about Flower Husbands, they still get married, I don't see why not... I want to say BigB is included but it feels out of character for him... Also BigB finally finishes building his base.

Scar walks in the desert without looking and falls and... nothing, one of the passive powers he gets from his origin is permanent feather falling... Which also means It's going to delay chaos for a while.

Tango still makes dare to flare because, like, why wouldn't he? I'm sure that won't cause anything bad to happen in the future.

Fandom.

I have to thank @easily-distracted-by-fandom for the suggestions. First of all they brought up a good point, that Bdubs falling from the sky would generate a lot of Icarus imaginery in the fandom, also that animatics of Skizz singing the Wither and Decay song from Tangled would be a thing...and like, I want to see one damn. Also also, Flower Husbands would probably be called something different... Taiga husbands? Frosted Forest? Iced tree?

...she mentioned that all the X life connections means that X-life plotlines might continue into the life series...whicg I can see happening meaning that X-life becomes defacto part of the life series as a prequel much like how Evo is.

Also need to mention @shortystack75 suggestion, that BigB allying with the X life people could be interpreted as him weaving the servers together... I really like this for some reason, I appreciate the BigB recognition.

Session 4

The first half of session 4 remains basically the same... except for Jimmy and Scott since they base somewhere entirely different... This is probably the last majorly unchanged session.

Joel tries Dare to Flare... It doesn't go well and he falls to yellow... The same for Jimmy, I checked where dare to flare was and it was in one one the very few non-forest places so...no bonus for Jimmy so he still dies.

Scar might not be red but Grian has still every reason to trap Dogwarts so does he still tnt rigs the enchanter? Yep, It was Grians idea after all, not Scar's.

You know how this goes, Jimmy triggers it and goes boom with Ren and Skizz...but Ren shield blocked the first explosion and he was the farthest away from it which means he just barely died... and in this timeline the has permanent Resistance I... So I really don't think Ren dies here.

Fandom p.2

I have nothing to add, just begging for ideas as I'm biased and wouldn't be able to predict fandom...

Previous part

Next part

First part

[forwhump]

a/n; some belated robin backstory 🥲 for doughnut, who I promised this to months ago & then FORGOT IM SO SORRY IM JUST AN AIRHEAD I WASNT INTENTIONALLY BEING A DOUCHE I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING (I remembered out of nowhere within like ten minutes of finding out liam died so that’s why it took even longer)(I loved 1d 💔)(& bleach finally animated my WORST CHARACTER DEATH so I’ve had a really hard week)(if I was still 13 I’d be institutionalized)

word count: 4k (I only feel like I need to add a word count when these are especially long so idk why everything I’ve posted recently has been especially long that’s my bad 😔)

tw/cw: kidnapping, captivity, implied rape/noncon, drug use, misgendering, transphobia, dehumanization, medical torture, lobotomies, mentions of the military, passing threats of violence against pregnant women, implied human experiments

When Robin’s a kid, just a couple weeks after his dad dies, his mom brings home a new baby. A girl.

She’s really little but she shrieks at a pitch so loud and so shrill that sometimes it gives him headaches. Other times, it puts him in such a bad mood he has to rip all the sheets off his bed or all the posters down from his walls. She doesn’t really do anything but scream or sleep and still, his mother dotes on her, treats her like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

Robin doesn’t get it. He doesn’t even really like her. He’d wanted a brother, anyway.

The baby’s first word is mama, which Robin doesn’t think is all that impressive. Her second word, however, is Rob, and he doesn’t know until he gets home from school and she squeals so loudly it makes his ears ring, clapping her little hands together.

“Rob!” She squeals. “Rob!”

“She’s been waiting all day for you,” his mother says with a smile.

He drops his backpack so he can pick her up, and she squeals again as she clings to him. “Rob!”

He doesn’t even try not to cry because he doesn’t realize he’s started crying until his mother wipes away his tears. After, of course, she takes a picture that she later has framed. A picture that he takes down and hides.

When Robin’s old enough, care of the farm falls pretty solely on his shoulders. He’d been expecting it — man of the house, all that. His sister’s very much a girl, all blonde and giggly, pink and frills, and their mother gets her into pageants when she’s still really small and pageantry comes with a pretty intense base level of maintenance. When mom washes her hair, it’s a whole day event. It’s kind of absurd.

When she first starts trying to follow him out onto the farm, he thinks it’s just to bother him. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s chosen to do something for the sake of being annoying. She asks, then she begs, then she just puts on her boots and tries to follow. When he ends up locking her in the basement to keep her inside, she tries tantrums, then she stomps to their mother and pouts.

“Take your sister with you,” she chastises.

Robin groans loudly. “She’s just gonna get in the way!”

She stomps a small foot and cries, “I can help!”

“No, you can’t!” Robin tells her. “You’re just a baby! And you’re scared of the horses!”

“You can’t tell me what I can’t do!” She shrieks. “I can help!”

“You can’t help!”

“Stop screaming,” their mother says, “both of you.”

“I can help, mama,” she whines.

“She’ll break a nail and throw a fit,” Robin groans.

“I don’t care!”

“You’d better care,” Mom says. “Be careful.”

She brightens, immediately done crying. “So I can go?”

“No,” Robin says, and her face falls again.

“I can help,” she whines. “Let me show you!”

“Let her show you,” Mom says.

Robin groans the whole way out. She skips beside him.

He eats his words, in the end. Even if it’s just to prove Robin wrong, she ends up being a big help. Not with the horses, not at all, but with almost everything else.

Turns out it’s because her motives aren’t to prove Robin wrong at all — she just wanted to get out to the cows. As soon as she’s finished, once Robin’s back is turned, he’s saying something like, “I can’t believe you weren’t totally useless,” and he looks back around and she’s gone, out to pasture. He finds her frolicking with the cows, laughing delightedly.

It’s like that for a few months. She follows him out, helps with actual farm work as quickly as she can, then disappears out to pasture to hang out with the cows. For the rest of their lives there together, in their childhood home, their jobs change; she tends to her cows, and Robin does everything else. It isn’t exactly fair, but Robin had grown up fully expecting to have to do all of it himself.

They settle into their routine, and they stick to it for years.

As soon as Robin’s eighteen, he enlists. He doesn’t hesitate. He’d always known he was going to.

His mom knows. She’s proud of him. He doesn’t tell his sister, because she won’t be.

When she finds out, she throws every plate in the house at him. Breaks every one.

The moon hangs low above the farm, casting everything in watery silver light. She sits on the fence in her boots and a pageant dress, this one so white and sparkly it kind of glows in the moonlight and it makes her look, frankly, like a ghost. She’d taken the pins out of her hair and it looks spectral, a cloud around her.

They’ve been passing a series of increasingly potent celebratory joints back and forth — she’d won a world title tonight, something that warranted a series of increasingly potent celebratory joints back and forth — and her ghost is really starting to crack him up.

“You’re being a dick,” she says, but she’s giggling helplessly. “I look so beautiful.”

“I can’t even look at you,” Robin says, and he isn’t lying, turned away as he laughs. “It’s making me mourn.”

She laughs so loudly she almost falls backwards off the fence, and that sets Robin off again.

He leaves next week. Six days exactly, the day after his very last high school exam. He hasn’t told her yet, and he doesn’t want to, especially not now, but he’s running out of time. He can’t leave without saying something, anything, but he’s tempted.

It’s almost like she’s read his mind. “Can I talk to you about something?” She asks carefully, and something in her tone makes Robin’s shoulders tense.

“If you’re pregnant you’re getting thrown down the stairs, girl,” he says. She snorts. “Mom’s gonna be pissed.”

“I’m not pregnant,” she says.

“I’m leaving on Friday,” Robin responds. He doesn’t mean to.

Uncomfortably quick, her face goes blank. “What?”

“Fuck,” Robin says. “I didn’t mean to tell you that.”

“What do you mean, you leave next week?” She asks slowly.

Robin looks away, out at her cows. “I fly out,” he says, “after exams.”

“Fly where?” She asks, now completely flat.

He doesn’t look at her, but he tries to smile. “My first tour.”

She doesn’t say anything for such a long time that he finally turns again, he looks at her.

She swings, and her fist gets him hard between the eyes. She doesn’t say another word to him as she leaves, and she doesn’t say goodbye to him before he goes. After that, he didn’t really expect her to.

War is hell.

Men are monsters.

The first time Robin gets to come home, it’s so good to be home. It’s the most unbelievably light thing he’s ever experienced, like taking his first, clean breath. He almost starts to understand the military appeal; the comedown after is the high.

When he gets home, his sister is trying not to be weird around him but she is, very blatantly. He thinks it’s because of how they left things; he’s wrong.

“Can we talk?” She asks, and there’s something so severe in her face that he thinks she’s probably cutting contact with him. It’s kind of a low blow. It stings.

He sits across from her, anyway. Waits.

For a long time, she doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t look at him. She doesn’t lift her head.

“Okay, what’s going on?” He asks finally. “Are you okay?”

She exhales loudly, but her voice is so small he can barely hear her when she says, “yes.”

“Then what’s up?” He probes. “What’s going on? You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“No,” she says into her hands, “I’m not always pregnant,” and takes another deep breath. Robin waits. He gives her the time she needs, watches the way her shoulders move as she takes deep breaths, watches the way her hands tremble, hiding her face. Robin keeps his voice level and his hands steady and he waits, but he’s waiting for the worst. He isn’t sure exactly what he’s expecting, but he’s expecting it to be bad. He isn’t expecting, “I’m trans, Rob.”

She still doesn’t look at him. She still doesn’t lift her head. Robin says, “what?”

“I’m trans,” she tells her hands.

“Trans what?” Robin asks, and she does lift her head, then.

“What?” She says, like she can’t tell if he’s serious. “Gender?”

“What?” Robin repeats.

“Oh my god,” she says. “I’m a boy, Robin.”

“What?” He says, because he still doesn’t get it. Then, “oh.”

“Yeah,” she says, and — well, he says, actually. He says it, and he drops his head again, covering his face with his hands and the sheet of his hair. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“What?” Robin repeats. He’s gotten himself stuck in a weird loop. He’s thinking faster and a lot more than he usually does. “What’s — why are you sorry?”

“I don’t know,” she says. He says. He’ll get better at that. He’s an adaptable guy.

“Gonna have to stop overthinking,” Robin tells him. “Guys don’t do that.”

His back stiffens. He doesn’t lift his head. “What?”

“It’s why we sleep better,” he explains.

Reluctantly, he lifts his head. He’s always had a deceptively sweet face, kind of doe eyed, but when he looks at Robin he looks so scared, genuinely scared, that it kind of hurts Robin’s feelings. “Rob,” he croaks.

“Can’t doubt yourself like that,” Robin tells him, trying to shrug off the tension, and when he still can’t quite meet his eye Robin stretches a foot out across the carpet to kick him in the ankle. “Guys don’t do that.”

He barely looks at him from beneath his eyelashes, but he looks at him, and that’s progress. “This isn’t a joke,” he says.

“I know,” Robin agrees.

“I’m serious,” he says. “I’m seriously coming out to you right now.”

“I know,” Robin agrees again.

She covers her face again, and — he covers his face again, and it isn’t until Robin really looks that he realizes his shoulders are shaking. That he realizes — “do you have a…name? A new one?”

He hesitates for a long time before finally pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. With a sniffle, he says, “Wren, I think.”

“Wren,” Robin considers. He looks across their mother’s favourite gaudy rug at Wren, tries it on for size. “It suits you,” he decides, and Wren chokes out a sound that’s obviously a sob but that he had tried hard enough to hide that Robin lets it go. “All the names in the world, though,” he says. “You still picked a bird.”

He sniffles again. “We still had to match.”

Robin feels that really low in his chest, a lot warmer than he would’ve expected. “I’ve always wanted a brother,” he says.

When he finally comes home for good, none of the colours are as bright as he remembers them being.

Wren had moved out while he’d been away, and the house is a lot bigger than he remembers it being. It’s too quiet. He can hear too much when it’s quiet.

Wren comes to stay for a few nights, to welcome Robin home, and he brings his girlfriend with him, introduces her. Julie. She’d probably be very beautiful if Robin’s type were outrageously scary people.

All tattoos, everywhere, and piercings studded with diamonds that catch the light whenever she moves. Her hair is like ink and all her tattoos are thick, black, and she looks a lot like Wren’s opposite in a way that’s endearing for a long time. He likes Julie in the beginning; she’s cordial to him.

She’s less cordial over time, slowly but surely. Then comes a time she’s rude, that she’ll snatch Wren’s phone out of his hands to tell Robin to get fucked on the other end. Once, Wren shows up in the middle of the night to post his bail and take him home. He spends that night, then the next few on their couch, and Julie doesn’t say a word to him once. Doesn’t even look at him.

It comes to a head at his mom’s house. He’s there because Wren is supposed to be there, but he never even gets to see him; he only sees his bitch girlfriend, sneering down the doorstep at him.

“I don’t think you like me very much,” he accuses.

“I don’t,” she says.

“Oh.” He already lnew she didn’t, so he doesn’t know why he’s surprised. That she’s so fuckin’ blunt about it, maybe. “Fuck you, too.”

“You’re a loser,” she tells him, and folds her arms. Robin’s quite a bit bigger than she is, but it doesn’t feel like it then. She’s an imposing little thing. “What’s there to like?”

“Okay,” he says tightly, “you suck, and —“

“You’re a cancer,” she says, “and I want you to leave Wren alone.”

That one hits Robin like a punch in the chest. He almost takes a step back, then pivots, because who the fuck does she think she is? Why should Robin cower? “Fuck you,” he says again. She just raises her eyebrows, smirks, and it’s so smug that it actually makes Robin hot all over. “Fuck you. He’s my brother.”

“Yeah?” She asks, and he doesn’t like her fuckin’ tone. “Because, from where I’m standing, it really seems like that didn’t matter to you all that much until Wren started making a lot of money.”

It makes all the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You have no idea —“

“Did he tell you we had to move?” She asks.

He’s still fuming and it crackles in his ears. “What?”

“Do you remember his apartment?” Julie says. “How excited he was? How much he loved it? But we had to move,” she tells him, “because we couldn’t keep up with it anymore, because such a substantial chunk of your brother’s income goes to funding his junkie brother’s crack habit.”

He tenses his jaw so tightly his teeth click. “You’re a bitch.”

“I’m not kidding,” she says, “and I’m telling you as gently as I think you deserve. You’re ruining his life. Leave him alone.”

Robin tries.

Really, he tries. He does what’s best for everyone and clears out his mother’s purse before making a home for himself in the gutter. He sleeps in the street and sits in the sun during the day, usually high. High if he can help it, anyway.

He sustains it for as long as it takes Wren to find him. He isn’t quite sure how long that is. He thinks he might have lost a lot of time.

Wren looks different. This Wren still has his Wren’s hair, his Wren’s abnormally large eyes. He’s still a pretty boy, but he’s a pretty boy, right? His jaw is a bit more defined. He’s got more angles, sharper angles, less softness and curve. He wouldn’t look out of place in an eighties hair band. How long has Robin been gone? How long has he been sleeping?

“You look good,” he says.

“You look like shit,” Wren tells him blandly.

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, scratching his neck. He accidentally opens a sore he didn’t know was there and scratches a little harder. “Where’s Julie?”

“Left me,” Wren answers.

“Oh,” Robin says, and stops scratching. “Why?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Why do you think?”

He flinches. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Well, y’know,” he says, scratching his forearm, “there’s other fish in the sea.”

Wren’s face falls. Sighing, he looks away, half hidden by his hair. Robin has half a mind to wonder if that’s why he hasn’t cut it. “I can’t do this shit with you anymore,” he says.

“What shit?” Robin says.

“All of this,” he says, but he turns back to reach out towards Robin and forcefully pry his hands away from the sides of his face. “And stop fuckin’ pickin’ your face.”

Contrarily, Robin’s skin doesn’t stop itching so he doesn’t stop scratching.

Wren doesn’t stop taking care of him, either.

For a while, Robin has a really good thing going, honestly, and there’s something comforting about being at home again with his mom and his brother. He doesn’t notice, for a long time, how much it eats away at Wren, because it eats away at him so slowly. He gets quieter.

Five months after Wren decides he’s done taking care of him — and takes care of him, still — Robin clears all of the big bills out of his wallet before he wanders out onto the farm to grovel and ask to borrow a measly fifty bucks. He never quite makes it that far.

The cows are out, so it isn’t hard to track Wren down, but Robin never quite makes it over to him. He’s sitting in the grass, back against a fence post. Daisy has her head in his lap, and he’s got a hand between her ears, but it’s still. He’s staring off into nothing. It looks like he might be crying.

And that makes Robin so dreadfully uncomfortable he turns right back around and goes inside. Because that’s probably a little bit his fault, right?

He doesn’t leave then, but he notices it more. Wren stares off into space a lot. Cries when he doesn’t think anybody else is around. Never mentions to Robin all the money that vanished from his wallet.

Robin leaves a week later.

It takes Wren three months, this time, to track him down.

Robin’s been sleeping on the floor of an abandoned apartment building, and it’s kind of surreal, waking up to Wren, cross legged on the floor with him. It’s a relief to see him. “Can I b-borrow a c-couple bucks?”

The way Wren looks at him makes him miserable. He tells Wren it’s their mother, it’s the way mom looks at him, and it is, to a degree. His mother still looks at him like she’s proud of him, her son the soldier, her son the patriot, but the way Wren looks at him is worse. Wren’s disappointed in him, and that could almost make him throw up.

He’s trying to get Robin to come home, to get clean, and Robin’s trying to get some money out of him. He’s having a hard time focusing, he’s shivering, but not with cold, with a sort of fever that makes his skin crawl too tightly over his restless bones. When the door explodes open, Robin registers it a second after it’s already happened. The soldiers he doesn’t even see until they’ve already swarmed the room, covered every exit, pulled Robin to his knees by his arms and his hair. They knock his blanket loose, and he shivers until one of them grabs Wren by his braided hair, wrenches his head back, points his gun.

Not everything comes into focus, but it tries. This is really happening and this is really bad.

Their captain is a big guy that looks more like the Hollywood movie version of a soldier than a soldier. He has an arrogance to him that puts Robin on edge, that he’s only ever seen in very dangerous, very powerful men. The way he looks at Wren makes Robin sick.

When he knocks Wren unconscious, it’s with a wet cloth and a gloved hand over his mouth.

Robin begs. He hasn’t been above begging for a long time. The way the captain is looking at Wren — he’s seen what happens to people who get looked at like that.

And this is Robin’s fault.

This is all his fault.

It makes him think of Julie. He can’t remember the last time he saw her, or even the last time he really thought about her, but he thinks of her now. You’re ruining his life, she’d told him once.

She was right.

For a long time, he’d been ruining. Now, it’s in ruins at his feet. And it’s all Robin’s fault.

They try to make him watch, but he struggles and vomits himself into unconsciousness.

They take him to a weird, grey place tens of minutes below ground. They give him weird, grey clothes and they throw him into a weird, grey prison.

Wren isn’t there.

He meets Hal, and he meets June, and he begs them, too. They have to know something, anything. Maybe they heard one of the soldiers say something, even in passing.

They look at him like he’s crazy. They don’t even believe him.

Robin spends his first week in his weird, grey prison completely hysterical. Then a couple of men, dressed almost liked orderlies but masked, all in black, come to haul him away, kicking and screaming. They drag him through this weird, grey hellscape to a surgical room from a nightmare, entirely black. They strap him down to a black surgical table. The surgeons that hover around him wear black masks and caps and gloves.

One of them takes a long, black needle. He holds it up, into Robin’s field of vision, before he turns the point into the inner corner of his eye. “This will probably hurt,” he explains, “but you won’t think to complain.”

“What the fuck?” Robin shouts. He thrashes, but he’s restrained to that table so tightly he can’t turn his face away, not even an inch. “What the fuck! Get the fuck away from me!”

“This will make your development easier,” another says. He speaks with the slow, flat voice of an old movie mad scientist and Robin’s heart physically aches in his chest. Never, not once in his life, has he been so scared it’s made his heart ache. “It’s in your best interest.”

“Get the fuck away from me!” Robin screams.

But he’s still. He tries to thrash, to turn away, and he can’t. He can only watch that needle close in on his eye, and scream as it pierces it.

He screams until he can’t.

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

A Fight Well Fought 

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: when Hogwarts is being faced by a surge of bullies, Remus Lupin finds himself at the brunt of it. As a prefect, and a victim, he has to bring in extreme measures to get this surge under control.

And you, the knight in shining armour and self-proclaimed bully buster, are the extreme measures.

Inspired by the bully x student council member trope. I read some really great ffs with like the student council x delinquent trope and I feel so bad because I can't remember their titles for the life of me TT but my heart goes out to the authors of those books <3

Reader's house and gender is ambiguous!

—---------------------------------

“You-Know-Who is an incel.”

You sweatdropped almost immediately after you said it. Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say to Bellatrix Black and her gang of future death eaters, but on the other hand, you didn’t really care. Someone needed to put that daft cow in her place, and boy, had you been lined up for a long time.

The mass of curly hair that was once hovering over a sobbing first year snapped in your direction. Bellatrix’s right eye twitched as she made her way toward you, stopping inches away from your face.

“What did you just say?” she wasted no time in brandishing her wand at your throat. A shadow was cast on her face. “How dare you. You foul little no-life! How dare you speak of the Dark Lord in that manner!” You narrowed your eyes at the tip of her wand before spitting out your reply. “You heard me. He’s an incel. A loser. A joke!”

You expected her to curse you on the spot, but instead she let out a high-pitched laugh as she bent down closer to you, her breath hot on your ear. “Oh, how amusing. You really think you know anything about the Dark Lord? You really think you can - ?”

You don’t give her the chance to finish her prolonged monologue. You leaned back, curling your fingers into fists, and whirled forward, causing your knuckles to make full contact with her face.

The punch sent Bellatrix flying backwards. Her head slammed into the wall of the corridor with a loud strike, accompanied by the gasps of the portraits surrounding you. You glared at her with a deep scowl, watching as blood slowly began to seep out of her nose. You flexed your fingers, ignoring the stinging sensation that was blistering out from your hand.

Adrenaline coursed through your body. You basically thrived from it, your love for fights and conflict often resulted in an overdose of the hormone. You grinned a malevolent smile, wiping the back of your blood-stained hand over your lips; you were pretty sure you now had a streak of red painted across your face.

Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix’s husband-to-be, rushed to her side, blubbering panicked words of comfort to her. You had no idea where the other members had run off to.

Listening to their quiet whimpers (well, Rodolphus’s whimpers, Bellatrix was still quite motionless), your expression falls flat into a look of deep annoyance. “It’s funny how just one punch can take you down so easily.”

Now, it was you who took out your wand. You pointed it at the couple, with a derisive taunt. “Let’s see how your precious master reacts to this. Stupef- ! ”

You were cut off by a rush of frantic footsteps headed in your direction. “A-ah! (Y/n) (L/n), right?”

You turn your head to face the new voice, still keeping your wand poised at the centre of Bellatrix’s forehead. 

Oh. Remus Lupin.

You appraised him with furrowed brows. Remus Lupin was a member of the notorious boy-band squad “the Marauders”, but from what you had gathered, he was the most tame of the group. Your eyes dropped to the shiny red prefect badge on his chest. Yep. A goody-two-shoes indeed. 

Remus skidded to a halt several steps next to your posse of four, if that’s what you would call this exchange. He was completely out of breath, steadying himself by placing his hands on his knees as he hunched over. 

Now, just what did Remus Lupin want? He was in your year-level, and in quite a few of your classes, yet you couldn’t say you were well-acquainted with him - or any of his friends, for that matter. 

Remus, rather unimpressively in your opinion, sucked in a final breath of air before standing up straight. He ran his hand through his brown head of hair and made his way next to you. 

“Black and Lestrange,” he started, his voice now enforced with authority, a stark contrast from the huffing boy you had witnessed literally seconds prior. “Harassing younger year level students, let alone any students at all, is a clear violation of the student code of conduct at Hogwarts! For that, I will be speaking with your Head of House to ensure you receive the proper punishment.” 

Wow, you thought. That sounded really scripted.

Remus paused, and added as an afterthought, “20 points from Slytherin, each.”

Rodolphus, the only one conscious between the two, twisted his ugly mug into a snarl, evidently severely displeased with Remus. “You filthy half-breed! Do we need to remind you of your place, again?” 

You internally raised an eyebrow at this. Had the Remus Lupin gotten into a fight with the ‘slytherin gang’, as the school lovely christened the huddle of death-eaters-to-be.

Rodolphus suddenly stretched his arm out, presumably to drag the other boy close to attack him. His fingers circled around Remus’s collar, ready to seize and-

Rodolphus’s head was slammed back into the wall, narrowly dodging the bombarda curse you’d just fired. He blinked rapidly, as if just remembering your presence. Your lips twitched as you saw the tremors in the hand that was holding onto the front of Bellatrix’s robes. Someone needed to put the fear of Merlin in him. Asshole. 

You sneered at him. “You and your girlfriend better get out of my sight, because I assure you that the next time I see you, I won’t miss.”

With that, Rodolphus grabbed Bellatrix and scrambled away.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, watching the pair run away with a sense of amusement. As the supposed leaders of ‘the Slytherin gang’, you would’ve thought they’d put up more of a fight. Maybe they weren’t on the tops of their games today, you’d heard complaints that they usually do much worse. Well, whatever. It’d do you good to keep your guard up for the next few days anyways, in case they decided to jump you in the middle of the night.

The first year student, who you’d totally forgotten about during the tussle, suddenly stood up, tear stains trailing down his cheeks. He didn’t stop to acknowledge you or Remus in his haste to get the hell out of your corridor.  You rolled your eyes and sighed. Kids.  Realising that it was just you and Remus left now, you began to follow the first year boy’s cue to leave, still scowling and fiddling with the wand in your robe pockets. 

“(L/n)!” said Remus, snapping his head away from the notebook he held in his hands - when the hell did he get a notebook - and toward you. 

“You’re (Y/n) (L/n), aren’t you?” he asked, repeating his previous question.

You eyed him from your spot near the end of the hallway. “...why do you care?”

He gave you a soft smile. “I’m Remus Lupin. We’re in the same year level. I don’t think we’ve met before.” You stayed silent, blinking lazily at his tall figure.

He gave a nervous laugh. “Anyways,” he said, scratching his cheek. “I just wanted to say thanks for helping out. Bullying has gotten completely out of hand and even though we’ve been trying to catch people, it's been really difficult to get everyone. So, I just wanted to say thanks! It’s really nice of you to step in for that first year boy.”

He has a lot of scars, you noticed, staring at his face. Gazing at him, you realised that he was still staring at you expectantly. “I wasn’t doing it for him, or for you. Black and Lestrange annoy me. I wasn’t trying to help out anyone,” you answered shortly.

“Well, regardless, thank you!” he gave you a cheesy thumbs up, causing you to roll your eyes.

An abrupt thought crossed your mind. 

Remus had to have been there the whole time, right? 

The corridor you’d been in was one of the most secluded in the school. From what you knew, prefects were given small sections to patrol each night plus the fact that the confrontation between the Slytherins and the first year boy had been going on for quite a while before you stepped in. There was no way that such a loud fight (especially when one of the three was screaming at the top of her lungs) would go unnoticed by him. Hell, if you were able to hear it from the next corridor over, then there was almost no evidence that Remus wouldn’t have known about it before.

You let your gaze settle on Remus. Just what has you so scared that you can’t step in first? The question sat at the tip of your tongue. The most plausible reason was that he was afraid of being harassed by those Slytherins (not to mention that sketchy line Lestrange had shouted before. ‘Again’? Did they usually gang up to teach Remus a lesson?)

Huh. Maybe that’s why he has so many scars.

Regardless, your eyes swept Remus up and down once more before you spun around and stalked out of the corridor. It doesn’t concern me anyways.

—---------------------------------

The next time you bump into Remus, you realise that your theory-conspiracy skills were surprisingly on point.

A midnight stroll, stemming from you raiding the kitchens, had led you to a dark, dingy little room in the corner of the dungeons as well as a front row seat to what looked like a Slytherin, pure-blood ritual with Remus Lupin as the sacrifice.

One, two, you started to count in your head, three, four. 

You could make out Wilkes (from his foul stench) and Avery’s scrawny physique in the weird circle they’d formed but you had no clue who the other two were.

Wilkes had been muttering something into Remus’s ear, his hand firmly gripping the ends of his chocolate coloured hair. Remus looked quite dazed, and you realised with a start that his left eye was darkened and deeply bruised. 

Wilkes sneered and he suddenly reared back, only to bash Remus’s head into the floor. What followed was one of the loudest cracks you had ever heard, as well as the ugly cackles of the four Slytherin lackeys.

Forcing his head up, Remus raised his gaze to the roof, revealing the wound on his forehead that was beginning to drip with blood.

What happened next was quite unclear to you. 

One moment you were glaring down the group with your hand coiling around the base of your wand, and then, the next were occupied by the groaning sounds and creaking limbs of four students who’d been ungracefully tossed into a heap. 

You stood next to Wilkes, staring intensely at before raising your foot and ramming it into his face. Good Merlin, did you hope that the heel of your shoe had dug into one of his eyes. He let out a howl and he brought his hands to his face to assess the damage. But before his hands could contact his skin, your foot harshly slammed down onto his fingers once again. 

Irritation was flooding through your veins, pounding like an alarm, as you glowered down at him and his lackeys. You held out your wand, your dominant hand busted from the force of your punches, as you intended to use reducto on them (or at the very least turn him into a chicken) when a hasty thud caught your attention.

Remus had fallen over trying to stand up, his mind clearly still blurry from when the Slytherin brutes had struck his head into the ground. You watched silently as he staggered over to you, placing his hand on your shoulder in an attempt to both placate you as well as regain his balance. 

He offered you one of his small smiles. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Your eyebrow twitched as you raked your eyes up and down his lanky figure. Aside from the wounds on his face and the slight tears on his robes, he seemed to be relatively functioning. 

You turned your gaze away from him and toward the Slytherins convulsing on the floor. “How long have they been giving you shit like this for?” From the corner of your periphery, you saw his smile falter. He didn’t answer your question, and from that you could presume that it had been going on for quite a while. 

Taking in his sullen expression, a fresh wave of anger coursed through you as you bent down to grab the hair of one of the Slytherins moping on the ground. With a satisfying ‘thwack!’, you threw a punch that left a lovely, blooming purple bruise just underneath their eye. 

Before you could crack his skull into the floor, similar to the way they had done to Remus, the said boy spoke up. “(Y/n).”

His eyes pleading with you to stop, for some Merlin-forsaken reason. Though you wanted to say that you were an independent person who took no crap from anyone, it was enough for you to drop the Slytherin’s head and stand back up.

You glanced at Remus, your eyes dropping to his busted lip. Huh. When did that happen? 

“You said there was a bullying problem,” you spoke suddenly, diverting your gaze. You scuffed the floor with your foot, where a dark red liquid was stained across the ground. 

Remus blinked, surprised that you were initiating the conversation. “Yeah. Heh. Maybe I should’ve mentioned that I knew that from first-hand experience…”

You pocketed your wand and raised your eyes to meet his. The tips of your ears burned slightly. “I’ll help. I’ll take care of it.”

And for the second time, in the span of a few days, you stalked out of the room, plotting murder in your mind and leaving Remus to his own devices.

—---------------------------------

The next time Remus bumped into you, there was at least a dozen thoughts running through his head - the loudest one of all being “what the fuck.”

There were, if he had to estimate, about twelve students dangling above you, strung up like some gruesome chain of fairy lights. It didn’t help that their eyes were shiny with tears, reminiscent of little flickering bulbs. 

You were sitting under your halo of bruised and bloodied students, apathetically scanning your nails. You only looked up when you heard him approaching.

“Lupin,” you acknowledged dryly, looking vaguely unperturbed about having beat up members of the Hogwart delinquent squad that were at least double your size.

“(Y/n),” he meekly responded, dipping his head in greeting. His eyes were fixed on the students dangling above you, swaying whenever a soft zephyr passed by. The handiwork of levicorpus, he supposed.

You frowned at the concern etched on his face. How could he still have sympathy for punks like these, when he knew first-hand the damage they'd done to the students of Hogwarts. “I took care of it.”

Noticing how he was now staring into the widened eyes of Rosier, who was hanging pleasantly upside down, you helpfully added “I know it's not all of them, but I’m working on it.”

Remus’s shoulders shook slightly as he attempted to muffle his laugh. 

“Oh,” you said, “I almost forgot.” 

You waved your wand and about 4 of the students were sent crashing down. They groaned, clutching their heads. The sudden transition from hanging upside down into foetal position must have been unsettling, but you held little sympathy for their plights.

You nudged one of them in the back (more like kicked) and they all scrambled into a bow at Remus’s feet. 

“Lupin!” it was the four Slytherins who had jumped him the other day. They spoke in almost precise synchronisation, like they’d been forced to rehearse it several times over. “We’re sorry for attacking you! We promise to never do it again! Never!”

Remus, charmingly surprised at their sudden revelation, looked over at you. You were frowning again, and you shot off a spell at Wilkes, who let out a whimper. “Lupin!” he cried out. “I’m worse than worse! A monster among men! Please accept my sincerest apologi- !“

His apology speech ended shortly as he paused to hack out blood. You death-stared him, plotting only Merlin knows what, to force him to continue his apology to Remus.

Sweat-dropping, Remus bent down and placed a hand on his shoulder. On any other day, Wilkes would have spat in his face and called him a disgusting half-breed for touching him; but this was not like any other day. Wilkes’s teary eyes met Remus’s own as he mouthed out ‘help me.’

“W-well,” Remus flashed Wilkes one of his gentle smiles - you fought the urge to ram the Slytherin bully’s skull into the portrait of Sir Ewarn the Fifth (who had been watching the scene with a vague horror in his painted eyes). “I accept all of your apologies. Just, preferably, don’t do it again. Please?”

He stood up. Some of the people you had strung up weren’t even the traditional, pureblood supremacist Slytherins, he realised. Jeez. This bullying problem had spread to all the houses. His lips twitched when he caught you scowling at Zacharias Smith (senior), a fourth year Hufflepuff notorious for stealing people’s homework assignments and hiding them in the abandoned girls’ lavatory.

You watched as the Slytherins you had released began to scramble away, and with a sigh, you let down the remaining students. Before they sprinted away, though, you stared intensely at them, reminding them to promise Remus never to torment anyone again.

Once they were all gone, you turned to Remus with an almost cheery demeanour - or at least the cheeriest he’d seen on your face so far. “I don’t think you’ll be hearing any complaints about them anytime soon!”

Remus, bless his pure soul, cracked a weak grin at you. His golden eyes furrowed as he took your hands in his. “Everytime I see you, your knuckles are always split open. Do you not get them treated?” Your somewhat happy expression had returned to its typical deadpan. “I used to go to the Hospital Wing, but after a while Madam Pomfrey got wary of how many times I would show up. Eventually, I just stopped showing up altogether.”

Wow, thought Remus, absentmindedly glancing down at your hands. (Y/n) is just a fighting spirit through and through, huh? Of course, he had his own reasons for his perpetual presence in the Hospital Wing, but that was a story for another time.

He grabbed your hand and began tugging you softly to follow along with him. 

You weren’t entirely sure if he was aware of the extensive hand holding he was doing, and it made your ears burn with embarrassment. The two of you stopped in front of a broom closet, where he leaned in to grab a roll of bandages. 

“Sorry,” he said, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he gazed upon you gingerly. “I’m not really that great with healing spells and I don’t want to use you as my guinea pig just yet.”

Merlin, you thought angrily. He needs to stop smiling like that.

Remus kneeled down in front of you. He began unravelling the roll to wrap the bandages around your knuckles in a firm, yet delicate??, way. A way, you thought, glancing off to the side as you felt your face heating up, that felt oddly specific to Remus. 

When you felt his warm touch leave yours, you glanced back down, your face starting to cool down. You flexed your fingers experimentally, pleased to see that you could still curl them into fists easily enough.

“Hey, Remus,” you said, surprising both yourself and him with the use of his first name. 

You bent down to peer closely at his face.

He made eye contact with you, and you could hear his breath hitching as he realised the distance, or lack thereof, that was between the both of you. You reached your hand out, cupping his jaw and brushing your thumb against his cheek. You could feel his face heating up at your touch.

Just as Remus’s emerald eyes began to flutter shut, you pulled back abruptly. Your ears were warm as you too took notice how close the two of you were. You quickly showed him your thumb, where a single strand of brown lay.

“Eyelash.”

—---------------------------------

“Oi! (L/n)! Sit with us!”

You spun around to face the voice who had called out for you. You were greeted by the grinning face of James Potter (who was standing way too disturbingly close to you). 

“(L/n),” he repeated. “You’re friends with Moony, yeah? You should sit with us.”

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you over to the spot at the table where the infamous Marauders had claimed for today. You opened your mouth to protest (you and Remus weren’t really friends, more like partners in crime or something along those lines), but you decided to leave it. 

You took a seat next to your (favourite) marauder, who gave you one of his insufferable, pure, tender smiles. You forced your lips into a straight line, praying to whatever higher power watching over you that no one could feel the heat radiating from your face. 

You glanced around hoping that by the time you have to look back at Remus, your face would have cooled down. Lily Evans, Marlene Mckinnon, Mary Macdonald and Alice Fortescue were seated on your other side, deeply engrossed in whatever conversation they were having. Lily Evans was sitting unusually close to the Marauders today, especially considering how much she allegedly hated them (or did, at least, before her falling out with Snape which kind of neutralised her hate for them. Slightly).

Lily caught you staring and offered you a smile and a giggle, You froze awkwardly and blinked at her greeting.

“So, (L/n),” began Sirius Black, the resident Hogwarts heartthrob. He was grinning cheekily at you. “How are you on this mighty fine day?” You deadpanned at his wack attempt at a Texan accent. “Good.” “Ah, good, good.” he sweatdropped at your lack-luster answer. “Yep. It’s great to be good.” 

You raised an eyebrow at him before glancing at Remus, who smiled sheepishly at you.

“I- we noticed how you usually sit alone during mealtimes,” he said, shoulder brushing ever so closely to yours. “I thought it would be nice if you could join us.” 

Merlin, you could feel your ears burning again.

Remus continued on, seemingly taking no notice of your internal (and external) struggles. “We’re friends now, so you’re more than welcome to sit with us if you want.” 

He finished with one of his dazzling smiles and - jeez, you had to stop getting flustered over his smallest gestures.

“I’m James Potter, in case ya didn’t know before!” James Potter announced helpfully.

“Right, and I’m Sirius Black,” he said, grinning at you. “It's siriusly great to meet’cha!”

James and Remus chuckled at the joke. You blinked awkwardly at them before swivelling your head to look at the final boy. 

“I-I’m Peter Pettigrew,” he said, smiling nervously (though his smile wasn’t nearly as cute as Rem- wait, what on earth were you thinking?!)

They all looked at you expectantly. 

“Oh.” you began ever so eloquently. “I know who all of you are. We’re in the same year level. We take most of the same classes as each other?” Seeing them stare blankly at you, you sighed. 

“Well, whatever,” said Sirius, leaning forward, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We heard, from our dear pal Moony here, that thanks to your solo vigilante efforts, Snape, Wilkes, Rosier - the entire little death-eater wannabe squad were basically prostrating on the floor, begging for forgiveness!”

“They piss me off-,” you began, wanting to repeat the same speech you had given Remus when the two of you had first met - that you didn’t care about honour, or revenge for the ickle first years who had fallen victim to their wrath - but Lily Evans suddenly cut you off.

“That was you?” she said, eyes wide. You didn’t even know she was listening to the conversation. “Like, you’re the person they’ve been talking about?”

James was practically bouncing up and down in his seat. “Tell us, Evans- the rumours!” Lily ignored him (for the most part), but she did in fact tell you the rumours. “They say that there’s been a monster of sorts attacking wandering students in the dead of night! But they only target the ones who no one really likes.” 

Marlene gasped, bringing her hands to her face. “So, you’re telling me that the other day, when I saw Lucius Malfoy sporting a black eye, that was you?”

Everyone in a five-seat radius of you was looking at you with new-found admiration. To top it all off, Remus patted your shoulder and announced “bullying at Hogwarts is at an all time low, thanks to (Y/n)!”

With that single touch, you basically combusted.

For all of your years here at Hogwarts, you’d remained fairly asocial. You’d sit by yourself during mealtimes, be the last to be partnered during group projects and stuff like that. The only socialising you ever got was when you beat the crap out of your enemies. 

How were you supposed to know that your enemies also happened to be everyone else’s enemies?

But still, it had all unfurled to where you were now.

And so, surrounded by Remus and the rest of your new friends, you found your lips twitching into the smallest of smiles.

—---------------------------------

It had been a few months now, since that first time you had run into Remus. And it was now, that we would be witnessing your final fight.

You were standing behind Remus, hands stuffed in pockets as per usual, whilst the boy gave his usual lecture on why not to bully others (well, ignoring the fact that you were essentially a bully now too pretty much).

Remus waved off the fifth year student you had cornered prior before turning to face you with a great smile.

Remus hadn’t been touched for the last few months either. Not with you, basically standing around as his bodyguard. Even a wrong glance at the boy would result in your death-stare gracing the halls of Hogwarts. 

“That was it,” you began, your voice quiet and hoarse.

Remus blinked at you.

You coughed. “I mean, that was the last one. There are no more delinquents left.”

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

He exhaled, seeming to work up the courage to do something. Then, he leaned forward, taking your hands into his and smiling earnestly at you. “Well, then. Thanks, (Y/n), for putting up with me and being my partner in crime for so long. It’s been really great having you with me, a-and I’m glad we could work together.”

He laughed his little nervous laugh, the one that he usually did, and you were pretty sure that your heart rate had tripled.

Yeah, you wanted to say, but the words died coming out of your throat. Me too. We make a great pair.

Your final fight wasn’t one you were expecting. It wasn’t one that involved you beating anyone up or stringing them upside down. Instead-

You took a shaky breath, cursing yourself for getting so flustered over Remus’s words. Your fingers furled into their typical fist shapes, but rather than them swinging back (like they typically would), you rested them softly on his chest.

Ah. So your heart wasn't the only one having palpitations right now.

“(L/n)...?” Your hands gripped the front of his robes as you shut your eyes and pressed your lips to his. You can basically feel him falter against you at your action, but almost just as quickly his own lips begin to move. 

His kiss was gentle, and very, very unsure. You move your hands to the back of his neck, to press him impossibly closer to you. You don’t know what’s going on, but all you know is Remus. Remus, Remus, Remus your heart is quite literally singing.

That revelation - the one where you realise that the only reason your heart was beating was because of him - literally shoots spikes of warmth through your body. The tips of your ears are red-hot, and you were pretty sure that you were seconds away from overheating. You glance to the side, trying to hide your face from Remus.

Nevermind. Your eyes flickered back toward him. He looked dazed, and he brought his hand to brush softly against his lips. He met your gaze and you could see the blush rising to his face. He cupped his cheeks, darting away from you as you had previously done. 

You, laughing - yes, laughing - took his hands in yours once more and allowed your lips to finally reunite. 

A fight well fought, indeed.

[nyaightlight]

Prongsfoot Week 2024

Day 7 - Write/Draw/anything for this ship

Rated T, 846 words

James is in search of a spouse, and the perfect candidate has just arrived

Fic under the cut, or you can read on AO3

James would rather he not be here, in Malfoy Manor, on display as a prospective match for some sorry sod who hadn’t bagged a marriage yet.

The only things buffering him from an onslaught of slimy suitors were his friends, posing as his menservants. Remus, who was only of average height and terribly lanky, and Peter, who was the equivalent size of a mouse, were hardly bodyguard material, but James had to make do with what he had.

“Can’t you just speak to one? At least?” Remus had grown increasingly pale over the night, but James can’t fathom why. He’s not the one under scrutiny or under the pressure of a forced match.

James’ parents would never sell him off, but they were starting to threaten him with blind dates. To, as they said, ‘expand his horizons.’

James would rather his horizon stay exactly where it is, thank you very much, but he knew his parents meant well. And if he didn’t make a name for himself soon, high society would be only too eager to judge the Potters even more harshly.

Still, that didn’t mean he was going to roll over and accept the first offer thrown his way.

“No. Now both of you stay close to me. I’m trying to make it through the night without any weirdos talking to me.”

Remus makes a noise James would compare to that of a dying whale, but he doesn’t offer a rebuttal, so it’s James’ win.

They stick to their corner of the room for a good amount of time, until Mulciber, who’d been eyeing James since he arrived, finally gets off his ass and looks like he’ll start heading over.

James doesn’t want to talk to the guy, and starts looking for something to use if he needs to beat him back, when the main entrance swings open, and everyone in the room goes silent.

A man strides in, handsome and wearing the most expensive suit James is sure he’s ever seen. His eyes survey the room, and James swears they’ve landed on him when he says, “Don’t stop on my account, now.”

The Lord and Lady of the house flitter over to the new arrival’s side, and though conversation resumes, it’s plain to see that everyone keeps glancing their way.

“Who is that?”

“How should we know?” Peter scoffs. “You’re our source of gossip.”

“You also have other things to worry about,” Remus tilts his head towards James’ other side, and James follows the motion.

Mulicber is walking their way.

Fuck.

“Potter,” the man calls out. James cringes.

Before Mulciber can get too close, broad shoulders block James’ view.

“Thank you for providing me with a name,” the mystery guest nods at Mulciber.

Up close he’s even more beautiful than James had thought. His eyes are a bright silver, and dark hair falls in artful waves down to just above his shoulders, past a jawline that could cut glass.

“Potter?” he turns his shimmering eyes to James, and then moves into a deep bow. “I’m Sirius Black. It’s lovely to meet you.”

James bows in return. “James Potter, sir. Likewise.”

Once he’s upright again, James watches as Mulciber spins on his heel and sulks off to a different group of guests. Thank the heavens.

James is feeling quite bold when he says, “You’ve saved me, sir. That cow Mulciber has been trying to entice me all night by winking every other second. Pity for him, but it only made him look like he had a bad twitch.”

Sirius laughs. “Oh, dear. Like this?”

The way Sirius winks is nothing at all like Mulciber’s. It’s flawless, and paired with the debonair grin that hasn’t left Sirius’ lips once, it sends butterflies aflight in James’ stomach (and decidedly lower as well).

“You put Mulciber to shame, sir.”

Sirius’ canines glint in the chandelier light. “I should hope so.”

James hears Peter start choking on something behind him, which reminds him that his friends are still with him.

“Ah,” James twirls around and waves a hand to catch their attention. As soon as Remus is finished whacking Peter on the back, James tells them, “You both may continue enjoying the hors d'oeuvres. Mister Black is keeping me plenty of company.”

“Bu-” Remus starts.

James turns back to Sirius. “Would you like to fill up my dance card, sir?”

Sirius offers his arm immediately. “I’d be delighted to.”

James’ feet will be sore tomorrow, but it’s all worth it.

He and Sirius danced until even the musicians had to leave, and now they’re alone in the foyer.

They are alone, so nobody sees this. Nobody sees Sirius Black open James Potter’s mouth with a kiss, and press a goodbye against his tongue.

This moment is just for them, and James is giddy at the thought. He’ll think of this night until he can see Sirius again, and even then he’ll remember it. This is only the beginning of their story, after all. James wants wedding bells in their future.

(He doesn’t know this, but Sirius wants them too.)

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 745: At the window seat

Pag 1

1: The last

2 / 3: 200m!!

Pag 2

1: 150m!!

2: Sugimoto is still ahead!! Danchiku is behind!!

6: There are

Pag 3

1: 100m left!!

Pag 4

1: Issa.... are you watching, Issa

2: I've always been timid

3: I always pushed your back with all my strength

4: And then watched you being all frolic

5: I was satisfied

Hahaha!

Piece of cake!

Pag 5

1: When I was little, during school trips, on the bus

2: I won the window sit

I got it!!

3: I enjoyed looking at how the scenery changed outside the window

Oh, there are cows!!

4: The window seat is super nice!

But I was pushed by my friend

Neh, Danchiku, let's swap seats! Come on, Danchiku

6: Okay

Thanks!!

I gave up my seat

7: In the end

Amazing! What's that tower?

8: our seats stayed like the whole time

9: People also often cut the line in front of me

Sorry, Danchiku!

No, but the line....

Ah, you're so nice, Danchiku, so nice!!

Pag 6

1: After that, the girls scolded me, too

You're too nice, Danchiku!

Yes, yes

Well....

At times like that, you need to flat-out reject them!

Yeah, you're a guy after all

Yeah... you're right... indeed....

2: It bothers us, you know

Is it... my fault...?

3: Is it me....

4: I also yielded with bicycles

Move, slowpoke!!

5: “Move”.....

Ye... yes

Pag 7

1: If you don't want to win, then don't run in races!!

3: Riding was fun, so I started running with bikes, but

4: Indeed....

Want to win.... huh

5: I'm nervous....

I was even late for the start the other day

And I couldn't move forward.....

6: I guess I'll cancel my entry on the next race, then....

I thought I should stop

Pag 8

1: Oi, you

2: At that time....

Ah- ah

My bad....

3: I was thinking while walking... and since the street is narrow

You want me to give way!?

4: Even though I was just walking on the side of the road

5: No

6: You don't have to give up anything

Pag 9

1: Huh

2: You said “my bad”, but you're not at fault

3: I heard there's a guy who goes to the same school as me and who ride bicycles

A guy who runs seriously and practices properly!!

4: I'm looking for that guy

Looking for....

5: He called out to me so self-importantly

Pag 10

1: That guy was Kaburagi Issa!!

Team up with me, and let's become the best in Japan!!

2: The strongest local club team here is called “Team SS”

First, let's join it and train!!

Pag 11

1: That guy was saying things that made no sense, but he had said the two things I wanted to hear the most at that time

2: “You don't have to give up anything”....

“You're not at fault”......

3: So, too suddenly and without really understanding, I said yes

Huh.... yes

Alright, it's decided

4: Danchiku!? It's an unusual name, and that's important!!

It's important?

'cause it sounds kinda cool!!

Huh

5: I still think it wasn't a mistake

What a weird guy....

6: Because Issa never stole my window seat

7: And didn't cut the line in front of me

Waa Danchiku, I'm so behind you!

Haha

Lucky you, dammit

Pag 12

1: And with an overwhelming accuracy, he gave me instructions to move forward!!

Here, Danchiku, move forward!!

Yeah!!

Pag 13

1: It's SS!!

Kaburagi from SS is jumping forward!!

Danchiku is pulling him, that's bad!!

2: Let's win this race!!

Yeah!!

5: That's why I always dreamed of making you “frolic”

Hahaha

6: I pulled you, and you took the finish line

7: That was enough for me

Pag 14

1: But then, after he joined Sohoku, Issa started to say those things

2: Now!! You're next!! Get stronger!!

3: I had no confidence

….. yeah

I wasn't selected for the Inter High during our first year

4: And even when I was chosen for the “Minegayama” race during fall

5: Don't worry, you can win

6: Even though Issa cheered for me, I doubted myself

Yeah

7: Practiced hard, I ran on Minegayama, and somehow I won

Pag 15

1: But right after that, my condition got bad

3: As expected..... right....

Alone, I convinced myself I didn't have what it takes

4: I didn't rely on my heart

It was probably small enough to fit in the palm of my hand

5: I read so many books, trying to make it bigger

Pag 16

1: You can do it, don't worry, you have me with you

I can't wait for the Inter High...!!

You're making so many grains of rice fly around

2: Hahaha

3: When the training camp started, Touji-san gave me a new bike

4: And I became your buddy

5: There's something I noticed

Let's make a special technique

You can do it now!!

7: Ah....

Pag 17

1: I remember something I read in a book

2: “Four things necessary for a person who wants to build up self-confidence”

3: “Find the amazing within you”

“Praise yourself for it”

“Don't deny it”

“Keep polishing it”

4: These are ideals... there's no way anyone can do it

6: I want to meet someone like that, bring them to me...

I thought so, and so that time I put down the book

7: But

Pag 18

1: He was there, right in front of my eyes!!

Pag 19

1: It's been right in front of my eyes the whole time!!

2: The guy who finds the “amazing” in himself, who praises himself for it, and never denies it!!

3: I realized I've been with him for many years!!

4: So I feel like I'm starting to see the process to gain confidence in myself, Issa!!

Pag 20

1: Please look at me, Issa

I'll go to the Inter High!!

2: To prove that my heart is getting bigger, little by little

3: And to make you, who believed in me, even more frolic!!

5: Danchiku is shouting!!

6: He accelerated again!!

7: I'll become much stronger!!

Pag 21

1: Garuaaa!!

2: 50m left!!

They're neck and neck!!

(Thank you @monkeyingaround for beta-ing this chapter!! <33)

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Heart Killers episode 3!!!! Woot woot!!!

Well hello there Pepper... rocking the sexy glasses look, I see.

And JJ! Wait...what is happening?! Did they just have a moment?

Ok, I did suspect this was Mother.

Well this is quite the loaded line...

Because 1) it's telling us that Bison believes he is killing "bad" people, but with the double meaning that 2) he is also being naive about Mother herself, not to mention 3) the deception that is happening with Kant and Style. Layers baby!

I am getting the vibe that Fadel does actually have an idea of how dangerous Mother is, and that may be part of why he's such a hardass.

Also Parn looks frickin' gorgeous in that pantsuit. Rock it, lady!

Not Pepper wanting to murder people too, lol. Interesting career advancement path at this company.

Not the leopard print!!

For the predator seeking his prey, lolol. Costume designers, I love you.

Oh we know, Fadel. We all watched it last week.

Ok, this has to be on purpose.

Lol, Fadel's face. He is so thinking dirty thoughts.

A heavy metal concert where you can hold a conversation? This is requiring the largest suspension of disbelief so far.

Show, please don't murder me in the first 10 minutes.

Agreed Style, Fadel looks hella sexy tonight.

Always with the naked except for the socks with this boy.

I could watch First and Khaotung flirt endlessly.

Lol, add another bitey boy to the list!

Not the titty squeeze! Style!

Ha, Fadel, we all know you're lyyyyyiiiing.

Literally every line from Style at this point!

There's actually some cleverness in this too, as we know that Fadel is thinking of Style sexually, so that the fact that Style's dialogue has ramped up the innuendo is a way to also make the audience more keyed in to Fadel's inner struggle.

That Auntie is the most patient woman alive. Style must have really sold her a sweet love story.

The sign is clearly just a way for Dunk to show off his arms some more, and I am here for it. Also the burger outfit and the cow pants, I'm dying.

Style literally being the center of a sandwich because Fadel wants to consume him... this is wild.

Ahhhh, the lap-sitting!!

Going straight from sweet to spicy!

Considering he hasn't been in a relationship before, Bison is doing pretty good with communicating his needs.

Haha, Fadel is gonna break, y'all!

Fadel, he's not gonna guess assassin! No one would guess assassin!

Heh, I don't think Bison is used to people being like, "hey, slap me now!". He may like sadism, but he's still a soft squishy boy in a lot of ways.

I've seen some people complain about sound in this show, but my only complaint is why are the burger-chewing noises always so loud?!

Ohhh, Fadel thought someone else was going to help him once, and he was let down... oh my poor baby.

Penguin for the safe word? Is Kant watching Caged Again too?

Omg, it does describe Junior (and also Bison, I know)

Did y'all, ever in your life, think you'd be sitting and watching Khaotung nipple clamp First? I sure didn't!

On noooooo! Worst family member walk-in moment ever!

Fadel threatening Kant should not be this hot.

Perfect description for Joong's face

Lol, Bison nailing it with the "this woman doesn't like cuties" prediction.

Omg, don't tell me this is the one time Style is actually going to find Fadel by accident.

Also, not that I'm not loving the Fadel dancing, but when and where did he pick up this skillset?!

I...am officially deceased. This man has finished me.

Also love that Style is getting a little taste of his own medicine back.

Dude, the implication that not only does Fadel watch Magic Mike, but practices the dancing in his free time!!!

Hehe, you can totally see the "mark me down as scared and horny!" in Style.

Kant, this would be a good time to tell your best friend the truth.

I don't know if this was just at translation thing, but doesn't Kant saying he just needs to get into their house and then they can stop make his story about wanting to date Bison kinda sus?

Oh nooooo, not the tragic love backstory!

I don't know if getting you both plastered is the best strategy, Kant.

I want to be mad at Style for invading a support group, but his story is making me laugh, dammit.

But also, Fadel, if you did murder him, I would understand.

Oh Style, you are so in trouble.

Fadel has a lot more practice closing himself off emotionally, Style is not ready for this.

These brothers - I just have to laugh that Fadel practiced stripper moves, and Bison had his BDSM gear already set up in his room, despite the fact they had no reason to think anything would happen with any of it. These poor horny boys.

Also - kiddos, please practice BDSM safely! Don't just do it based on what you see in movies & tv!

First is doing a really good job at playing drunk, horny, and scared.

Hmm, Fadel, what are we up to?

This show is so unhinged, and so damn fun.

[theotherbuckley]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

tagged by @nmcggg @underwaterninja13 @saybiwithme @your-catfish-friend @jesuisici33 @cal-daisies-and-briars @perfectlysunny02 @hippolotamus @wikiangela @smilingbuckley @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @tizniz

How many works do you have on ao3?

18

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

92,593 !

3. What fandoms do you write for?

9-1-1 currently (previously criminal minds and lucifer)

4. Top 5 fics by kudos:

1. Because You're Exhausting 10K words (917 kudos) 2. Pancakes, kisses, and a little bit of TLC 4.8K words bucktommy (890 kudos) 3. I'll Take Care of You 5.1K words | buddie (879 kudos) 4. Cow Eyes 2.2K words | buddie (720 kudos) 5. Tripped and Fell 5.8K | buddie | E (464 kudos)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes💜 i try to respond to them all but sometimes i forget and then i feel bad because i get another comment and i cant respond to it because i didn't respond to the previous one but by then an extend period of time has passed and i feel weird about replying to the previous comment so i stop responding... oops.. also that time i go a few hate comments and it made me stop responding to comments on that fic

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Because You're Exhausting - uhhhh this is depression in 10K words its so fucking sad and you will need tissues and most of the comments on this fic are people telling me they cried so... yeah sorry about this (read the tags please for the love of god read the notes there's a lot of trigger warnings)

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

There are quite a few with good happy endings but I'm especially fond of Cow Eyes i think its silly and cute

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yeah kinda - Because You're Exhausting has got a few mostly about the ending which i to an extent can understand but if you're going to be triggered by something please for the love of god READ THE WARNINGS IN THE NOTES - i don't wanna spoil everything but the tags on its own should have been enough to go hey maybe i should read the notes too asjkdaj so yeah a few hate comments on that

9. Do you write smut?

Yes! didn't for the longest time but yes yes I do :)

10. Craziest crossover?

I don't write crossovers

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope i think if i ever did id be so honoured I'd cry

13. Have you co-written a fic before?

currently writing one with @diazsdimples <3

14. All time favorite ship?

Buddie!!! (but I am really enjoying bucktommy atm)

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Healing fic is killing me rn - I may write a lot lot of angst but seeing buck so happy on my screen is making me struggle to write depressed buck but I will write it but also uni is killing me rn. this fic is over 17K so far with no end in sight so is by far my longest which I think is why its so hard

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I'm good at writing depressing shit

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Like the rest? Idk I struggle with dialogue tags and switching from dialogue to prose I think

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love it but too scared to do it because I just speak English. But I love pet names etc in other languages.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

I think Sherlock bbc on wattpad when I was a kid and then Lucifer first on ao3. Looking back these are pretty trash idk what I was thinking but we all start somewhere.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Hmmm good question. Even though Because You're Exhausting is so sad I really do like it. Also running from myself (and the memories of you) (12K) which is also depressed!Buck but it's lighter and has a happy ending. Also both my chronic pain!Buck fics make me happy. Idk this is hard I can't choose.

I won't tag anyone since most people have done it but if you wanna do it then consider this your tag!