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qwimblenorrisstan · 25 days ago

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Found | 141 & Reader

Summary: When you’re introduced to your new foster parents, a bear hybrid, harpy, werewolf and wraith, four big scary men, you’re not sure about how things are going to turn out. Your first day with them turns out more okay than you expected.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Warnings: lotta anxiety, reader is very quiet (sorta non-verbal?), descriptions of sharp teeth, scars, sharp claws, flashbacks (trauma), boundaries being put down (gently), BIG FAT SPIDER

A/N: so this happened…hope you enjoy this word vomit i spewed onto my google doc, and plsss keep the lovely requests coming, I love them<3

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

The front door shut, and the social worker left, leaving you alone with all these tall, strong men who now just stared at you. You stood near the door, backpack over your shoulder, tense as if ready to bolt at the slightest thing.

The men seemed to notice this, the bear hybrid and the harpy exchanging glances, before the former slowly approached you, taking note of how you kept your feet angled to the door, a sure sign you were ready to run. He didn’t blame you. The past children they had fostered had been the same at first, timid, shy, spooking easily. You just seemed to have a worse case of it.

He stopped about a foot in front of you, slowly getting on one of his knees to be almost at eye level with you. The air felt suffocatingly thick. You returned his level gaze with a wary, untrusting one, like a wild animal’s.

“I’m John,”

He spoke. His voice felt like a Sunday night bonfire, the whiskers of a cat, and warm ashes still flickering red. It was a bit comforting, and you wondered why until you saw the way his chest was shaking just a little bit.

He was purring.

You hadn’t even known bear hybrids could purr, but as soon as you realized that, you were back on edge. He knew that even if you were fully human, your body would still relax in response to most forms of purring. He was essentially using your body’s natural responses against you.

“And you are?”

He then asked, bright blue eyes watching you. Observing. All of them were, you could feel it. Especially the maybe-wraith, you could practically feel his eyes digging holes into you.

“Y/N.”

You replied. Your voice shook despite your best efforts to keep it level and calm despite the storm of emotions you were experiencing.

You watched as the werewolf almost lunged forward, stopped only by the wraith, who placed one hand on his shoulder, shaking his head, and the wolf let out a low sound that looked like a whine, ears flattening, but the wraith didn’t budge. Strange.

John nodded, getting back up off of his one knee, gesturing to each other members of the pack one by one, the harpy was first.

“This here is Kyle,”

Kyle gave a gentle smile, eyes full of what seemed like empathy for how uncomfortable he must know you are. They probably knew every single thing you were feeling, considering a hybrid’s insanely good sense of smell. His feathery wings puffed up, then resettled in a matter of seconds.

“Here’s Johnny, but we call ‘im Soap.”

The werewolf. You didn’t know why he was nicknamed ‘Soap’, and you didn’t want to know, either. He gave a sheepish smile, pearly whites gleaming.

“And we’ve got Simon, our Ghost.”

The wraith. He gave a small nod, which looking back, was more like a jerk of his head. His eyes were a dark chocolate brown.

You quickly decided that Kyle was your favorite, for now. John was a close second, and Johnny and Simon were on an equal level.

“Kyle, take ‘er to the room while me and the lads have a chat.”

John said, gesturing you over to Kyle, who waved you over, leading you out of the main living room area, and down a hallway to the right. You dragged your feet, curious to hear what John was having a ‘chat’ with the other boys about.

“…need to quit chompin’ at the bit, Soap, making the girl nervous.”

“Cannae help it, she’s so small—“

“You’d better help it, ‘fore I do for you, Johnny.”

The conversation continued, Kyle glancing back, noticing you lingering back, raising a brow with a little knowing smirk.

“C’mon, nosy. We spent a good few hours putting this room together for you.”

Cheeks heating slightly at being called out, you picked up the pace, beat-up sneakers padding against the wooden floor as you followed the large harpy, observing his feathers, most of them being long, a shade of honey brown fading into a warm blonde, shining under the light, shifting into different shades when you changed the angle you were looking at them from. The shorter feathers looked fluffier like they were just growing in.

You saw a pin feather on his right wing, sandwiched between other feathers.

Unable to resist the temptation, you reached for it, fingers gently enclosing on the crackly, thin casing around the feather, pulling, only for his wings to twitch as he whirled, startling both of you, as you held what had been of the pin feather in your hand.

Both of you stood still for a moment before he must’ve realized what happened, letting out a huff of laughter with an amused sigh. His hand reached out, giving you a little pat on the head.

“Thanks, kid. Just ask next time, yeah? My wings are sensitive.”

He said, and you nodded, shock wearing off right as a voice came from down the hallway.

“Everything alright?”

Sounded like John.

“Yup, just having a grooming session.”

Kyle called back, chuckling to himself as he led the way to a doorway, opening the door to reveal a decent-sized room with a bed, a dresser, and a little desk across from the bed. The walls were a light purple. The floor was wood, with a small circular fuzzy carpet in the room.

It looked comfortable.

Kyle stepped out of the way, gesturing for you to enter your room, and you hesitantly stepped in, eyes scanning every square inch. There was a window to the right of your bed, locked, probably.

After it passed whatever mental test you’d conjured up, you walked over to the bed, nose wrinkling in mild distaste at how the bed was set. The blankets were tucked tightly into the mattress, so you yanked them out, before taking the pillow, putting it on the floor, and kicking the absolute life out of it for a few minutes until it was placed back onto the bed.

You then proceeded to plop into the mess of blankets and sheets, pulling the blanket up over you. It was soft and fluffy but not fuzzy.

“She’s nesting-!”

You heard a voice squeak from the entryway, only to see Johnny grinning like a maniac, pushing Kyle out of the way to see into the room. John was behind him, giving an unimpressed flat stare to the excited Scottish man, and Simon was looming behind Kyle, tall enough to see over his wings.

“Humans don’t nest, Soap.”

Kyle said flatly, and Johnny threw him a glare.

“Well, she’s doing whatever the human equivalent to nesting is.”

He retorted, and Simon gave him a look that said he thought he was brain-dead.

“Making the bed?”

He said, and Johnny huffed, getting into it with Simon while you watched from your bed, listening to them argue, until you got sick of it and pulled the blanket over your head, hiding under it.

“How ain’t that nesting—?”

“I make my bed every mornin’. Don’t mean I’m nesting.”

“Can it, both of you.”

They both shut up after the verbal admonishment, John sighing, and a moment later a man approached the bed slowly, making sure you could hear the wood creaking beneath his feet. He didn’t want to surprise you. You made your mental bets between which one it was.

Johnny’s head popped up from under the blanket a few moments later.

“John says I’m not being very hospitable,”

He said, as if he was whining to you, giving a loud, dramatic sigh that you heard John, who seemed to be walking down the hallway now, grumble at. It almost made you laugh, and he must’ve seen the smile pulling at your lips because he grinned big and wide. Only his head remained under the blanket, the rest of his body kneeling beside the bed.

“How about we play a game, hm? Help ya learn the house a lil while Price and Gaz make dinner.”

You paused, before nodding. The house didn’t have too complicated of a layout, you thought. You’d seen what looked like a second floor, maybe there was a basement.

A hand slid under the blanket, calloused and rough, and you promptly ignored it, simply sliding the blanket off. You weren’t there yet, not with any of them. It would take a good while before you started willingly touching.

“How about…tag?”

You shook your head almost immediately at that one, and once he really thought about it, it made sense. No child would want to be chased around by a big hybrid in a place they don’t know.

“Hide n’ seek?”

You didn’t say anything at first, until nodding.

“You wanna hide or seek first?”

“Hide.”

Hiding was essentially the only part you were good at. You didn’t have the nose to sniff out hiders, but you did have plenty of practice hiding, for various reasons. Being a human wasn’t the easiest. You were prey, essentially, easy to be picked off when alone or vulnerable.

Johnny’s big hand tugged the blankets off, getting up off of his knees, gesturing to the doorway where Simon loomed, sharp eyes watching the werewolf, a slight narrowing of them when they both exchanged gazes, silently communicating.

Johnny turned to face the wall once you both got out into the hallway, the door clicking quietly shut while Simon watched.

“I’m gonna start counting, I’ll give ye a good…20, how’s that?”

He asked with a grin, and you nodded. You didn’t know this house other than the hallway, your room, and the main living room in the front, but you were determined to find a good hiding spot. It might’ve been years since you last played hide and seek with someone his age, but you were competitive.

“20, 19….”

You bolted.

Down the hallway, taking a right, seeing a staircase. You decided to go up.

“18, 17…”

A mini-hallway up the stairs. You took your hoodie off as quickly as possible, opening a door and randomly throwing it inside. The scent would probably throw him off.

“16, 15…”

You slid down the stairs, running down the same hallway, taking another turn, moving past the kitchen where John was stirring a pot and Kyle was cutting vegetables. They raised a brow but didn’t comment as you pulled one shoe off, tossing it around a corner.

“14, 13, 12…”

He was speeding up, the cheat.

You took the other shoe off, finding another door to open, this time being a closet, before throwing it in and shutting the door behind you.

“11, 10, 9…”

With three different things to throw the freakishly good nose most werewolves had off, you figured it was time to find a hiding spot. He was in the single digits now.

“8, 7, 6….”

You rounded a corner, finding a door with a different style handle than the others. It was golden and round, older, while the others were silver and slim. You opened it and were met with darkness and a staircase.

You hesitantly descended, the light switch not working.

“5, 4…”

You needed to find a spot. Now.

The scent of laundry detergents hit your nose when you finally reached the bottom, daylight from a small basement window providing the bare minimum of light to let you see. To the right of the stairs, there was a thin little room that was a laundry room.

All the scents would surely mask yours well, too.

“3, 2, 1…”

You heard his muffled voice grow more excited when he was finally close to being able to start his hunt.

You found a shelf next to the wall with a little crawl space underneath the different cleaners it was holding. Flattening your body to the floor, you squirmed under, struggling to breathe for the first few moments until you adjusted.

“Ready or not, here I come!”

He called out, and you heard the creaking of the floorboards under his feet as he stomped around the house, John calling something out you couldn’t hear from down here.

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you suddenly noticed a giant spider and her web only a foot from you. Your skin was suddenly crawling, your imagination running wild, and you heard doors opening and closing upstairs.

The first one.

The second.

The third, he must be getting close.

He’d gone through all your distractions. You heard his heavy panting from here, heard the footsteps coming down the rickety old stairs.

He didn’t even try to flick on the switch.

He wouldn’t have to, not with his built-in night vision. The huffing grew louder as you heard his mutt-like sniffing, deep and full. Your skin began to crawl for a different reason, limbs tensing unconsciously.

He was a predator. He had teeth that could shred you within seconds, claws that could rip you open. And then you weren’t under the shelf anymore.

The scent of wet hay and animals surrounded you as the itchy sawdust rubbed at your skin, leaving it red and irritated.

You heard him before your eyes adjusted enough to see him. The furry form, at least three times bigger than your small body, claws dragging against the walls of the wood, teeth gleaming in the full moonlight.

He wasn’t just finding you, he was enjoying this.

Enjoying being able to sniff out your terror, the scent of it soaking through your clothes without you even knowing.

He paused.

The hay crunched beneath his feet as he shifted, taking a deep whiff of the air, a sound coming out of him resembling a crow’s raspy caw, except it sounded like an imitation of laughter coming from his maw.

The hay crunched again. Closer.

You held your breath, silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

A tail swept by, as if he’d somehow not seen you, but then—

“Rah!”

The familiar Scottish lilt to his voice felt all too comforting compared to what you’d just remembered moments earlier. You think you screamed. Your mouth had opened, you just hadn’t heard the noise coming out.

You tried to make sense of it.

Key word, tried.

He must’ve seen how you sniffled, body shaking slightly and breathing unsteady. He noticed. His hand swiped the large spider, which had been crawling ever close while you hadn’t even noticed, away, his other hand going to lift the shelf for you to get out.

“Jus’ a spider, nothin’ to worry about.”

He mumbled with a small chuckle, watching as you scrambled out from under the old shelf, walking over to the stairs without even needing him to lead you around. It seemed you were eager to get out of the dark.

He didn’t blame you.

The stairs creaked behind you as he headed up, swiping some dust that clung to your hair and clothes still. When you opened the basement door after fumbling for the handle for a moment, you were greeted with your shoes and jacket right near the entrance.

“Clever trick ye pulled, never had such a wee little bairn pull ‘at on me.”

He said with a warm chuckle. At least you’d tricked him a little bit. Even if he’d still found you depressingly fast.

You stepped into your shoes, shifting around until your feet were in properly, picking your jacket up and carrying it with you as you stepped to the side, meaning to let Johnny through, only for your back to hit a warm body as you let out a noise of surprise, whipping your body around as you flinched and jumped nearly a foot back.

It was Simon, who didn’t react much, other than a subtle tilt of his head. His eyes narrowed as he looked you over, looking as if he knew something was off.

Johnny raised a brow at the silent staring contest between you and the wraith, shutting the basement door behind him as Gaz’s voice called for them.

“Dinner!”

Simon gave you one last glance, before turning and walking to the table. Johnny flashed you a sympathetic grin.

“Don’ be scared of the brute, he’s really a sweetie underneath it all, just gotta get used to ye is all.”

He said, a bit quieter as if not wanting Simon to overhear. You watched him walk away, having a feeling he heard every word, and that he heard a lot more than he let on.

Johnny tried to place a hand on your back which you jerked away from, murmuring an apology as you followed him to the kitchen. The game of hide and seek helped you learn the layout of the house, but it would still take a while to fully memorize.

The smell of something delicious, namely potatoes and some form of meat and barbecue, reached your nose as Kyle pulled a chair out for you, setting his hat on the seat to your right to claim it, Johnny sitting across from you. Simon’s seat was on one end of the table, and you assumed Price’s seat was on the other end.

It was some form of pot roast, you quickly learned, bowls being passed around the table with napkins and silverware. A glass full of water was put near your plate. The rest of them settled for tea except Johnny. Kyle put a spoonful of sugar and a small container of cream in his tea, mixing it neatly in. Simon drank the tea black. John put half a container of cream in, mixing it in and taking a long drink.

Johnny settled for a can of orange soda the others called ‘pop’.

John put his hands together, bowing his head and closing his eyes in a gesture of prayer. Simon didn’t. Johnny poorly mimicked John, clearly more interested in his food. Kyle mumbled something under his breath on his own, digging into his food right after.

You’d been in houses with religion before. It wasn’t as surprising as it had been at first, with the different concepts of prayer and gods and everything that came with it. You just didn’t know exactly what to do.

You looked around the table, John praying, Kyle eating quickly but nearly, and Johnny quickly mumbling under his breath. Simon was the only one eating slowly, taking his time. Probably because of the scar that ran over his lips, leaving a bit of his canine exposed.

He didn’t get the chance to eat fast.

You accidentally locked eyes with him, unsure of what to do. It felt rude to stare, but you couldn’t just back down from the silent challenge in his brown eyes, seeming to dare you to keep looking, assuming you wouldn’t.

He’d watched your eyes dart around, a look he’d seen too many times before. You didn’t know what to do.

He paused, still not breaking eye contact as he slowly blinked, scarred fingers closing around his glass as he raised it to meet halfway between you two. It took you a few seconds to realize what he was doing, brows furrowed in confusion before releasing with realization as you picked your glass up, lifting it to clink against his.

The sound brought both Johns out of their prayers, John chuckling as he raised his glass, Johnny and Kyle soon to follow.

“To our new little bugger.”

Simon muttered, brown eyes glittering with mirth as he glanced down at you, lips twitching almost up.

And as the rest of them filled the space with chatter and words, you thought that maybe, even if it wasn’t always easy or comfortable at first, you could be happy here.

Maybe.

Next —>

Tags:

@thriving-n-jiving

@simonrileysown

@theartgremlin2

@theartgremlin

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yallthemwitches · 1 month ago

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Responsible Parties

McGonagall had seen a lot of things in her 103 years of Hogwarts, but her Head student’s making use of her desk was not one of them.

A silly, fluffy, flirty fic for @jilytoberfest day 4, Prompt: Starring McGonagall—Happy Bday to the OG jily stan.

AO3 link here! Rated T for sexual situations

Minerva had seen many things come and go through the halls of Hogwarts, but she had never imagined this.

There were many times she would have expected it. In 1953 the Head Boy, Cornell Ferguson, Hufflepuff, had been a right idiot. Then there was Katie Komisaro in 1961. She was a bright Head Girl, but always seemed to find trouble with the lads. Hell, even last year’s Alice and Frank would have been prime contenders if they both weren’t so bloody chaste about everything.

No, of course it was when two Gryffindor’s were Heads—-and of course it would be Potter.

When the rumors were spreading about their coupling, she had tried to ignore them. There was only so much melodrama an old witch could take when working with teenagers. But having it be about the Heads, and thus her responsibility, made it a lot harder to dismiss.

Obviously, she had seen the signs. Everybody knew the two had started going steady, they practically flaunted it. Even the professors would remark that there wasn’t a class period that passed where Lily Evans and James Potter weren’t attached to each other by the mouth the minute it was possible. Most of the time they at least made it outside to the corridor, but there were reports from professors that their antics were now encroaching into the class hours.

“Potter claimed he was just trying to find his lost quill—-I told him Evans’ skirt was probably not where he’d find it.”

“Well a week ago she was too busy whispering in his ear and playing with his hair to notice her cauldron catch fire—”

“—And they definitely have been using some of the unused charms classrooms—-I keep finding them smiling too much in my corridor. ”

She knew they were expecting her to say something—-but if it wasn’t affecting their work, did she really have to?

She would later bemoan wanting to ever go back for her copy of Transfiguration Travails, so close from skirting disaster. They had just finished a Prefect meeting, one that went perfectly normal without incident. If anything, the Head students were being better behaved—Potter hadn’t made any dopey comments about Evans’ wit and she in turn didn’t lose herself to absently stroking his forearm when they sat together. It seemed like progress, really. Character growth— perhaps they had made it to the end of the honeymoon period.

Ironically, that was what she had thought to herself as she turned all the way back around towards her office. The meeting couldn’t have let out longer than twenty minutes before and she half expected the room to be cleared, head students long gone to their respective classes.

Now, she sat with her two Head students, Transfiguration Travails completely forgotten and everyone’s schedules cleared for the near future. Her mind swam, trying and failing to erase the knowledge that the desk she was sitting at was the site of some very intense shagging just moments before.

It seemed like a good time to retire. Looking between a very disheveled Evans and a slightly flushed but smug Potter, she wondered what kind of severance pay she could wheedle out of Albus.

“It’s my fault professor.”

McGonnagall didn’t even look at her. “Miss Evans, you don’t need to lie—”

“No, I’m telling the truth.”

McGonagall watched as Potter’s face grew more smug. She always hated how he and Black were capable of smiling even when being given the harshest of punishments. She hated even more that, despite it all, she had a soft spot for him ever since first year—-at least Evans looked mortified.

“I would like to go on record and attest that she is not lying—she did start it.” Potter was too chuffed for his own good.

McGonagall sighed. They were her brightest students and yet didn’t think of using a simple locking charm?

She looked between the couple. Even embarrassed and waiting for judgment, their bodies angled towards the other, knees touching. Noticing the shade of Evans’ face and the slight quiver of her lip, Potter reached out to leave a comforting hand on her lower thigh, stroking slightly with his thumb.

Damn it.

“I won’t give you any real form of punishment,” she heard herself say before digesting what it meant, “—but this will not happen again. ”

“Of course, professor.” Evans squeaked out. Potter just nodded, knowing better to make promises he couldn’t keep.

At her ruling, Evans’ shoulder relaxed and her quivering stilled. She reached for James’ hand, but rather pushing it away like McGonagall expected, she threaded their fingers together in her lap.

McGonagall had seen many things at Hogwarts in her 103 years and love, albeit stupid, rule-breaking love, was still a special thing to witness.

In hindsight, she should have seen it coming, but then again Potter was not the most predictable of lads. Not even a few hours after she had dismissed them, she stepped back into her office and found a brand new desk, already filled with her parchments and books, still shining from the laquer on the mahogany wood. A note waited:

Don’t worry—-we didn’t christen it.

Her Head students were certainly something, but idiots didn’t begin to cover it.

#jily fanfic #james potter #jily #lily evans #marauders era #jily fanfiction #minerva mcgonagall #one day I’ll write something where jily isnt just forcing pda on people #james x lily #jilytober fest 2024

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bugstuff4ever · 5 months ago

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“And that bright star near the horizon is the arm of The Archer,” Legolas declared, leaning so close to Gimli that their cheeks practically touched, extending his elegant hand toward the night sky. Gimli nodded absently, not quite keeping up with the elf’s eager explanation of the constellations, instead finding himself distracted by the proximity of his companion.

For optimal star viewing, the pair had stolen away from the fire where the fellowship had gathered for the evening and discovered a more secluded place to set up. Gimli had made himself cozy atop a rock, and Legolas was perched on his knees beside him, bringing them eye to eye with one another. The dwarf smiled fondly as Legolas gushed on about the various constellations, shifting slightly as a warm sensation churned through his belly. Gimli was well aware of his crush on the Mirkwood Prince—he’d been smitten ever since the Council of Elrond—but he’d never had the chance to enjoy the finer details of the elf from such a close distance. He could feel his heartbeat begin to pick up as his eyes wandered freely over Legolas’s body. Gimli had never before noticed the sheen of his golden hair, the way it seemed to glow even in the dark of night. He’d never admired the definition of Legolas’s collarbone, which protruded ever so slightly from the deep neckline of his evening shirt. He hadn’t been given the chance to discover the pink hue of the elven lips, which looked particularly enticing bathed in the ethereal light of—

“Master Dwarf, are you listening to me?” Gimli jerked backward in surprise, blushing fiercely.

“My apologies, I s-seemed to have lost my focus,” he sputtered, painfully aware that his companion had most definitely noticed his staring. They gazed at each other wide-eyed and shy, uncertain of what would come next. The seconds stretched on into eternity. Legolas’s ears flushed a deep scarlet, and he took a shaky breath before uttering his next words so softly that Gimli had to strain to hear them.

“Do you like what you see?” The dwarf’s eyebrows shot up as a swooping sensation passed through him. Was the elf flirting with him? Gimli swallowed, summoning all the charisma and charm he could muster.

“There are many beautiful stars in the night sky tonight, but none more fair than you, my prince.” The blonde let out a surprised giggle, threading his fingers through his hair as he digested the implication of Gimli’s words. He parted his lips to speak, then closed them again, searching for the proper response. His eyes softened, and he leaned towards Gimli as though he were about to confess a secret.

“You make my heart thunder within my chest,” he whispered, his mouth near enough to the dwarf to send shivers down his spine. Unable to stop himself, Gimli’s focus shifted once again to the alluring pink lips that smiled so sweetly at him. Legolas watched him, eyes flicking between meeting his gaze and the dwarven mouth. Ever so slowly, they leaned in. When they were just a hair's width apart, Legolas froze and tensed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I must confess that I have never done this before,” he murmured so close to him that Gimli could taste his breath. “Will you teach me?”

Gimli's breath hitched at the elf's words, his heart pounding. Slowly, he raised a calloused hand to cup the side of the elf's face, his thumb gently brushing against the soft skin. Legolas leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering open to meet Gimli's gaze, filled with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.

"There's nothing to it, lad," Gimli whispered, his voice rough but tender. "Just follow your heart, and let it guide you."

With that, he closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a tentative, gentle kiss. Legolas responded hesitantly at first, but as the moments passed, he grew bolder, his lips moving against Gimli's with increasing confidence. The warmth of the elf's mouth, the softness of his lips, it was everything Gimli had imagined and more. The stars above seemed to shine brighter, the night air filled with an electric charge as they lost themselves in each other.

Legolas’s lips were like the softest velvet, tasting faintly of the sweet wine they had shared earlier. Gimli felt a rush of sensations he had never experienced before, a thrilling mix of nervous excitement and profound tenderness. The elf’s hands, delicate yet strong, found their way to the broad dwarven shoulders, pulling him closer as if afraid to let go. Gimli’s fingers threaded through the silky strands of Legolas’s hair, marveling at it’s smoothness. Time stood still as they melted into each other.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they shared a quiet moment of intimacy. Gimli could see the stars reflected in Legolas's eyes, and for the first time, he understood the elf's fascination with them. They were a beautiful, warm, and infinite, just like the bond that was beginning to grow between them.

#gigolas #legolas and gimli #gimleaf #legolas x gimli #legolas greenleaf #gimlas #gimli son of gloin #lotr #first kiss #i just love them so much #oneshot #they r so nervous

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brucewaynehater101 · 6 months ago

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AU: Alfred Pennyworth

TW: death, suicide mention, murder

Alfred is an extremely talented former SIS agent who used to use his theater performances as an alias for undercover work. After the death of his father, he follows the man's wishes to become a butler for the Wayne family. He prides himself on his decorum, trained skills for being a butler, and his weapons handling. His ability to rear a child was... lacking, but Alfred learned how to balance his responsibilities as guardian and employee.

If a few threats to Bruce growing up suddenly disappeared or stopped, surely Alfred would have no knowledge of why. He'd thank the spirits of Martha and Thomas Wayne for their intervention since the butler was too busy with [task] to have been the one to have dealt with it.

Alfred is pained by Bruce's decision to don a bat suit, but he, for the most part, doesn't interfere. He allows Bruce to throw himself into danger despite how it pains Alfred to watch that.

Then Master Bruce brings home a kid from the circus.

To say Alfred was nervous about Master Dick joining the Master Bruce on the streets was an understatement. Still, it was not Alfred's place to interfere.

Then Master Bruce brings home another young lad.

Master Jason joins his family in their fight against crime.

Then they lose him.

Alfred's grief and his refusal to lose his son are the only reasons he doesn't assemble his favored Remington and eradicate the moster who took his grandson. As much as it pained the older gentleman, Bruce needed Alfred to refrain. The butler could not add the dilemma of a family member murdering someone to the younger man's shoulders.

This time, when a young lad wears bright colors to save Gotham, it is not at the behest of Master Bruce. In fact, for the first handful of months, Master Tim continues in spite of Master Bruce's discouragement. This is what saves his son from the suicidal path he was keen on taking.

Alfred, once the family finally seemed to be on the mend, often contemplates whether it's time to finally put the clown down for good. Scared of rocking the boat too much, Alfred once again refrains.

Then Master Jason returns.

It's pure chaos for a bit as the family tries to navigate all of the pain they've caused each other and the tension of their circumstances. It's certainly not an easy task, particularly due to the constant upheavals. The continuous change of people in their life (those who arrive, those who return, and those who leave forever) certainly don't help. Even though the situation is not ideal, Alfred welcomes the new children of Wayne Manor.

Then Alfred loses his son.

The older man will admit he doesn't handle the situation as well as he should have. He knew, after rough patrols and missions, that it was a possibility that his son would leave before him. Still, a part of Alfred had always denied its plausibility. Surely, after the deaths of Martha and Thomas, the world would not be cruel enough to force Alfred to bury his son.

It was.

The remaining family fell into despair, clashed, and then splintered to differing corners of the world. Alfred could only hold onto two of his grandchildren. It was an adjustment, but they managed.

Then Master Tim, in a whirlwind of his own making, brought Bruce back to Alfred once more.

This is where Alfred's restraint crumbles. With all of his family home once more, the older man swears to maintain this status no matter what Master Bruce has to say about his methods.

It's been decades since Alfred was the renowned spy with a penchant for trouble. He maintained some of his contacts but otherwise faded to obscurity. His reputation, or at least his code name, is still whispered by newer and older recruits. He was terrifying, and his success rate was impossible. There's a reason he had to fight for his retirement and that the Royal family holds him in high regard.

Alfred may not be as spry as he once was, but every single limb of his will snap before any member of his family is taken again.

The older man is ready to strike the next threat that appears. While he lies in wait, he'll continue doting on his charges.

Or, I want more Alfred characterization of John Wick and Kingsman combined

#dc comics #dc universe #alfred pennyworth #alfred pennyworth angst #bamf alfred pennyworth #Hopefully this is good enough cause im not editing #let alfred be badass #inspired by that one comic panel where he rappels with a gas mask

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 8 months ago

Note

Dear Crowley, I heard this dashing and very intelligent fox beastman is looking for a job. He used to work as a manager at a popular theme park, so he probably has a ton of experience! Maybe he'd make a great addition to the staff?

The way I choked laughing when I read this interaction 🤡

I decided to structure this interaction like a job interview between Crowley and Fellow (facilitated, of course, by the Reader/Prefect's written recommendation). I thought it would be funnier this way! (Note: Fellow is definitely sugarcoating, glossing over, outright lying, and laying it on thick in some of his responses, but since this is framed mainly from Crowley's perspective, these inconsistencies are not pointed out.)

Enter; An Unkindness of Ravens.

This is the one recommended for the open teaching position?

Crowley eyed the man standing before him. He was beastman, as per the Prefect's description, with a pair of red fox ears and a fluffy tail.

A crimson-lined violet jacket, half a cape tossed over one shoulder, was secured over an olive vest and a snug waist. Golden embellishments and starry badges dangled from his lapels, and the same sparkles studded his top hat. Fun patterns cut into diamond windows raced up his dark green trousers. His long legs were crowned by knee-length spats, and he held an elegant cane topped with a fox in his gloved hands.

His look was professional yet playful.

The candidate was handsome—no doubt about that—and the keen gleam to his eyes implied a sharpness, a pointed wit, about him.

A horrible thought occurred to Crowley: He's not more dashing and intelligent than me, is he? No, no, it simply cannot be done! There’s no one fairer than I!

The headmaster brushed off his concerns, vanity placated, and cleared his throat.

"Let's see here... You are Fellow Honest, correct?" Crowley referred his provided resume. It was handwritten and contained a number of spelling and grammatical errors.

"That's my name! Don't wear it out," the beastman chirped with a wink and the twirl of his cane. "Fellow Honest, at your service."

“Please tell me about yourself, Mr. Honest.”

“Well! Not much to say, I’m afraid. I’m just a wanderer down on his luck, lookin’ to find his way in the world. I saw your job posting and thought I should shoot my shot.”

“I see on your resume that your last position was as a theme park manager…? Why the sudden shift in career, if I may ask?”

"You see, I've always been a lad of big hopes and dreams. I went into the entertainment industry wanting to spread that positivity to others.

"My park used to attract quite a few families and their children, so I came to know the kids quiiite well! They'd tell me stories of their school days, talk about the things they'd want to become in the future. So full of imagination and wonder. I realized I wanted to be a part of that process. Teaching them, guiding them... so they can be the best adults they can be!"

Fellow chuckled—it slid off his tongue easily, as though his laugh was slick with honey. "I thought I'd be the one inspiring them. Turns out, the kids were the ones to light a fire under my tail."

"My, what a stirring story!" Crowley cried out. "I can tell that your passion for working with children is true~

“Now then, why Night Raven College? There are any number of schools you could apply to if you wish to lend your assistance to the youth."

"It's true. I thought to start my own school before this," he confessed, "but Night Raven College called to me. Its graduates are influential, the school's reach immense, and the headmaster most magnanimous... I figured if I wanted to make an impact, this was the place to do that."

Fellow hesitated.

"... And, as one bright young boy once told me, Night Raven College is a place where everyone and anyone is welcome. Even someone from as humble a background as myself can fit in here."

Crowley found himself nodding along with his narrative. The shower of praise was making him feel flattered and floaty—and the more Fellow talked, the more the headmaster felt himself leaning into his words.

But the interview questions. They were not through yet.

The thought slowly sobered Crowley up. His resolution returned, duty and honor-bound to pick the most qualified candidate for the job.

No time for fun and games, not now.

"How would you describe your own magical capabilities? As you know, NRC is an establishment meant for training tomorrow's mages. To that end, many of our tenured professors boast a strong history of magic themselves."

"Ah, that." Fellow’s smile was wry, playing off the anxious little tug at his cravat. “That is…”

“Answer the question, Mr. Honest.”

“Dire, Dire, Dire—may I call you that?” He paused, but failed to grant enough time for a response. Fellow moved fast, talked fast—his cane spinning fast, fast, fast. “I’ll be the first to admit my magical might isn’t on the same level as that of your colleagues.”

Crowley frowned. “Then I’m afraid we cannot proceed with the interview. It would be rather challenging for the students to learn from a teacher who has yet to master magic themselves...”

Fellow’s face fell. “You’ve already made up your mind?”

“I apologize, but this discussion is over.”

“H-HOLD IT!!” he protested, his polite facade dropping. Anger and upset flared on Fellow’s vulpine features. “Where do you get off, cutting me out the very moment I mention…”

Crowley’s expression hardened, the grip on his staff tightening. “Oh dear, it looks as though this interview is headed south.”

Dark power roiled up from within him. The binds on his strength, snapping. Fellow whimpered like a fox backed into a corner by a larger predator.

“A-Ahahahah… Please forgive my outburst, sir~” he simpered, sinking back into his seat. “I-I’d still like the chance to explain myself, oh-so-generous headmaster!!”

“You may,” Crowley replied. His face was almost entirely shrouded by the shadow of his mask. His expression, unreadable.

“You’re right. I… I don’t have a lot of magic to spare. But…!! Even if that’s true about me, I don’t want the students to think like that, judging their own worth based on what an institution says is desired or not.” Fellow’s fingers curled into shaking fists in his lap. “In an ideal world… everyone can pursue their dreams without discrimination, without being told they’re not enough.”

“The final question for you,” Crowley announced grimly. “How do you plan to instruct if you cannot lead by example? How will you instill the lessons and values of Night Raven College?”

“Magic isn’t everything,” Fellow fired back passionately. “It doesn’t matter how much magic history they can recite or how many fancy spells they know.

“What’s most important to me… is that the students find enjoyment in what they learn and can make use of it. That’s how I’d teach them. Practically, and in a way that allows them to laugh and enjoy life for the fun that it’s supposed to be.”

“Hmmm.”

Crowley stared him carefully, like a crow nestled amid the tree branches. Watching, listening.

For the first time, he felt as though he was witnessing the true Fellow Honest.

His interviewee heaved a deep, dramatic sigh, a hand running through his hair. He barked out a bitter laugh.

“I get it, you bigwigs never want to hear what us little guys have to say. I’ll see myself out. It was a waste of my time to try this again. I knew I should have struck out on my own."

Fellow headed for the exit, stomping unhappily, his violet cape trailing behind him. From the other side of the door, a small cat boy in oversized clothes peered in.

“C’mon, Giddie,” Fellow snapped, “we’re done here.”

The child obediently followed. He stumbled in boots that were untied and far too large for him. Still, the concern in his young face did not waver.

Crowley’s eyes followed them until their figures vanished out of sight—but the applicant lingered in his mind. He returned to Fellow’s handwritten resume, mind wandering to the answers the beastman had offered. Different answers, but nonetheless ardent ones.

“… Interesting,” Crowley mused, his lips pulling back into a smile. “Most interesting.”

He's an applicant to consider.

#twst #twisted wonderland #Dire Crowley #Fellow Honest #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Two Ravens at the Writing Desk #stage in playful land spoilers #Ernesto Foulworth #Gino

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paladin-of-nerd-fandom65 · 2 months ago

Text

This Is Home

Welp since todays my birthday and I still am trying to work on an action pack fic featuring Dick and Bruce, I thought today might be my chance to showcase what I consider quality wise probably my worst fic I ever made; a blithering and shameful amount of family and adoptive family fluff and tooth rotting sugary sweetness that’ll make unicorns drool. I actually debated for years putting this one out in public because it’s not only fluffy as hell but it rather super weird so I best put up content warnings anyways for your sakes.

Thanks a lot to my buddy @confusedhummingbird for giving me the encouragement to put this one up and giving me the chance to edit it for making it less weird as heck

Constructive Criticisms are welcome and then some and I thank you for your considerations

Dedicated to my other mutuals @pin-crusher2000 @celaenaeiln @spider-jaysart @camo-wolf @lightdusk96 @moonundernostalgia @starlightbelle @adalineozie @wisegirlandseaweedbrainforever

Warnings: SFW Tickling, Family Fluff, Quasi Family Bonding

The moon shined brightly on the simple, brown painted trailer with few windows on it. It was a bright, cool and calm night all around. A few mud puddles from today’s earlier rain showers dotted some parts of grassy fields the tents and other temporary buildings are set on. The ambiance of owls hooting, hearty laughs from the roustabouts and even the chuckles from a variety of younger talents across the grounds are a true delight to hear for any visitor of this one area, let alone those who work and live their lives here. Cracking open the trailer door slowly, a woman with dark crimson follicles tied into a ponytail that reaches to her shoulders, clad in a simple black cotton t shirt with and gray sweatpants, takes one simple step out of the trailer doorway, closes her bright ocean blue eyes and inhales a nice whiff of that air through her nose. That old smell, whether from the decent sized cages of the animals or the burning embers of lighted juggling sticks, reaches in, bringing a satisfactory feeling. This is her home; this is her life; this is what Mary Elizabeth Lloyd-Grayson thought for what a nice evening looks like. Lo and behold, it truly was.

For about a good 20 something years by now, ever since an integrating of her family’s own carnival act with this place, Haly’s Circus always remains the one traveling show Mary finds herself being reminded that she’s a part of. She cannot be any more happier; ever since her childhood of practicing on the ropes and bars of the flying trapeze alongside her own mother and their relatives, Mary always dreamed of being part of the show, no matter her act’s place on the runtime, whether opening act or the grand finale. Here she was now; her family act being the grand finale thanks a combination of their truly amazing acrobatic talent, charisma and the fact the patriarch, her husband John, acts as second in command for this circus. Now while some might claim draconian bull on that last bit, it takes a brief history lesson in knowing the Graysons ever since their far back roots in the mid 1800s always played a role in making this circus operate and continue to entertain hundreds of thousands globally. John is simply the latest of them to inherit the legacy and the responsibilities placed on him. Or rather, the latest grown member of the Grayson bloodline to do so since through her love for him and their marital bond, there is one other Grayson.

“Hey! You get back here, Calvin!” speaking of whom.

Mary notes of the two bundles chasing each other right in front of the trailer door and can’t help but laugh sweetly. One young lad sporting a black mop of hair with her bright blue eyes, clad in a red tunic covering a green scaly leotard and on his feet green pixie boots, was her son Richard, or Dick for short. The eight year old was now in hot pursuit of a ten year old lad with sporting light brown hair with similarly brown eyes, clad in turn in a white t shirt with grey sweat pants and simple sandals on his feet. Both boys have a mischievous grin on their faces as they dart past Mary and make their way carefully scaling up the trailer’s walls up to the rooftops, no doubt their game of tag escalating once more.

As Calvin lightly tags Dick on their rooftop of the trailer and the two safely descend back to the ground before resuming the chase, Mary can’t help but sigh surprisingly sadly for the kid her son was hanging out with at this moment. Poor, poor Calvin; about two years ago, during their latest stop at Haly’s Circus’ home city of Gotham, the little guy approached their trailer door looking in more ways than one, pretty miserable. Not too long ago, the man who was his father locked the kid into a dog kennel for whatever bull reason. From what Calvin told them that man simply walked away and never came back, leaving the boy simply to live out the rest of his days in the cage with no chance for escape. Except beyond expectation and with some good luck, Calvin did escape. Noticing a small chink in the chain holding the kennel door in place, Calvin used a decent sized rock into pounding away that chink in a calm state before finally the chain collapsed. The kennel door swung open, allowing the then eight year old Calvin to make a run for it. The kid ran in the cold and desolate rain storm that poured over Gotham that night, far away from that damn cage until at one point, his legs can’t run anymore.

It was there Calvin came across the Flying Graysons’ trailer in the adjacent Gotham Memorial Park, as part of the circus preparing for their performances the upcoming weekend. Upon noticing the windows of the trailer with the lights on, indicating someone inside, Calvin at first was tempted to knock on their front door before realizing that maybe they won’t take him since he is for intents and purposes a complete stranger. So, he just lied next to the steps of the trailer door until the rain clears up. Or at least he was until suddenly the door opens, a six year old Dick Grayson peering his head outside the door and seeing the shivering, bloodied fisted and soaked Calvin Rose right in front of him. Now cracking the door slightly more open upon realizing who it was, Dick calls for his parents in a thick language Calvin doesn’t understand. Next thing he knows, the two parents almost immediately have Calvin walk in, Mary draping a thick warm blanket over his shoulders, John lightly telling him to sit at the nearby couch and Dick heating up a bowl of his mother’s chicken soup she made earlier just for him.

Ever since that night, Calvin became a very welcome addition to the greater family. Not only does he possess an amazing ability to escape from any trap and restraint on par with the great Harry Houdini, Dick had found a friend next to his age he can go to, someone who understands his own plights and words they way no grown-ups can. In a way, Dick had gotten a pseudo older brother that day. While Calvin’s escape act and the Flying Graysons’ trapeze have their own distinct places on the show time, those two are nearly inseparable.

A squeal belonging to Dick snapped Mary out of her thoughts. Looking to her right, she can see the two kids tussling with each other in the nearby mud puddle. She chuckles heartily as Calvin and Dick take turns pinning each other playfully, poking at each other’s ribcages and bellies and lightly slapping some mud on their faces. As the old saying goes, ‘boys will be boys’. Though, looking at her watch and taking of the time, it was indeed getting a bit late for the boys being boys. Wasting no time, Mary heads for her son’s bedroom, opening the dresser next to his bed, fetching out a clean black t shirt with grey sweat pants not unlike hers and his indoor sandals. Mary gets back to the door just as the two kids lay on their backs on the grassy field, panting heavily with smiles on their faces, covered head to toe in mud and just looking at each other before doing a fist bump. Taking it as her cue, Mary lightly knocks on the steel door of the trailer, drawing their attention.

“Alright you two, you should probably get to the showers. It’s almost 8 pm right now”

While Calvin might not speak lovari Romanes chib like Mrs. Grayson and Dickie can, he does understand it to get what they say.

“Really?” he asks.

“Uh huh”, Dick nods, “You better go first and…”

Mary lightly chuckles and presents the fresh clothes on her hand, “Actually Little Robin, while you two were having your brawl, I got these for you. No son of mine would wait for his chance to rinse off before his buddy does”

While Calvin was having a good laugh at the apparent blushing on Dick’s face, the latter almost shrugs it off and makes sure his hands are clean of mud before grabbing the clothes from his mother and makes his ways to the shower trailer. As Dick makes his way, Calvin gives a quick thumb up to Mary as he heads back to his own trailer to grab his own clean laundry. Or rather, right before he does so, he slows down his walking speed and has a pondering look on his face. Mary takes immediate note of it and walks over to him. The grass lightly brushes her bare feet as she reaches her right hand on Calvin’s right shoulder.

“Is there something on your mind, sweetie?” she asks with a tad bit of concern on her part. Being more or less a mother for him, of course she would.

Calvin brushes the toe of his sandal on the grass before having his brown eyes look up to Mrs. Grayson’s blue ones. “It’s nothing Mrs. Grayson, really just some thought about something but nah; don’t wanna bug you about it”

“Did you think about spending tonight with us, a sleepover?” Calvin’s eyes slightly widen a bit upon realizing Mrs. Grayson knew exactly what he was thinking. But before he can start trying to brush it off, Mary just gives him a warm smile and starts lightly ruffling his hair instead.

“Well,” Calvin asks before once more having a sincere look on his face as stares up to Mary, honestly expecting the worst, “can I?”

Mary almost wastes no time in giving an answer. ��John’s out to town with Mr. Haly for tonight and we have a day off from practice tomorrow. So pretty much….Yeah, you can”

Calvin leapt into the air in joy with a fist in the air and was about to hug Mary before realizing how mud covered he was, instead simply rubbing the back of his head with slightly embarrassment. “Just make sure you get your laundry ready for your turn in the showers after Dick rinses up and try not to tell him if you run into him. How about we keep it a surprise?” Mary whispers the last part to him with a wink of her eye. Apparently, she has a bit of mischievous side too. With his own eye wink and a thumb up, Calvin darts back to his trailer. Mary walks back to the door, wiping her bare soles on the front carpet before steeping back in.

About half an hour or so later, Dick entered the trailer door, clad in his clean clothes and his jet black hair moistened though not nearly as much before Dick dried most of it with his towel the showers had. Mary notices however, of Dick preparing to just simply walk in before she gestures to him a certain something. Pointing to her soles, Dick gets that his mother says to wipe the soles of his sandals before walking in or take them off since while he avoided the mud puddles on his way back, the grass wasn’t going to do favors for this family trailer’s carpet. Rather than what he usually does in which actually involves wiping said sandals, Dick just lets them slide off his otherwise bare feet before stepping into the trailer. Dick makes then his way to the kitchen, climbing up the countertop right underneath the cupboards where the plastic glasses are then upon grabbing one, back flipping off said countertop and opening up the fridge door behind him for the jug full of simple water. As her son pours some of the clear liquid into his cup, no doubt for a drink before and/or after getting some sleep, Mary suddenly picks up on a few knocks on their trailer door. The pattern of said knocks is familiar; she knows who’s waiting at the front. Her surprise had arrived.

“Dickie, can you please get the door? I think there’s someone waiting for us”

With a quick salute, Dick raced back to the front door, proceeding to lightly open it, being on his guard while showing a friendly face just in case. Mary simply has a soft smirk in her face without even looking behind her to the scene playing out as Dick lets out an excited gasp for their visitor. There was Calvin, his hair similarly wet and now clad in a clean set of fleece pajamas with sandals on his feet, having a small backpack with his night stuff on his right shoulder and smiling equally as excitedly due to the look on Dick’s face. As the young Rose takes off his sandals out of courtesy before stepping inside, the little Grayson was able to piece together that Calvin will be crashing in with them for the night; looking back to his mother and getting a silent yet all too happy nod from her only confirms such. Dick also remembers it was a day off from practice for tomorrow and a weekend on top of that meaning that Calvin and he have the night to themselves.

Over the next hour, Mary can hear all sorts of chatter and noise coming from Dick’s bedroom, most of them was the two playing on Dick’s game system trying to either outdo one another if playing against each other or give each other aid and instruction to help each other if paired as a team. In the middle of their fingers slamming the controller buttons or hoping on and off Dick’s bed on a moment of excitement, the two engage in small talk on a variety of things. Whether it is the how the elephants can use some free roam every once in a while in spite of what kind of trouble they can get into should said elephants stampede on accident, which of these ‘superheroes’ is better, being either this ‘Woman of Wonder’ that apparently travels the world or Metropolis’ ‘Superman’. Both conclude though one thing: there’s no way this ‘Batman’ in Gotham can be real. Maybe he’s just a bedtime story to get the kids over there to behave like the Court of Owls or something. At one point, Calvin and Dick thought that maybe they can try combing their respective acts into one. Like say, Calvin is in a straight jacket suspended about 30 to 40 ft in the air while Dick stands by at a nearby platform with a trapeze bar in hand. From there, once Calvin of course frees himself from the straight jacket within a few minutes, Dick swings over to him, does the triple or even the quadruple flip and right as Calvin slips out and begins to drop from the height. When Calvin starts dropping by a single inch, He reaches out with his arms for Dick to catch him and swing them both back to safety. ‘The Great Swinging Escape’ they call it as Dick and Calvin laugh it off. Mary chuckles to herself when hearing that from her own room next door, actually finding herself intrigued and maybe with some heavy practice and a safety net for even their actual performance that can work. Of course, all parties involved will need a good convincing to Mr. Haly for that to happen.

By the time, an hour goes by; Mary can clearly hear her son and his friend apparently lacking any tiredness on their part. While they have the night to themselves, the two will have to start lying down for the night at some point. Those two are just full of such energy and stamina, only something than can tire them out can do the job. At least though, their energy finds itself expended on either their chatter with each other or Dick’s videogame.

Wait a minute….game, Mary thought to herself. She starts piecing something in her mind and thinking back to something. In particular, her childhood is what she thinks about…..hey yeah. She remembers that during her days as a Soaring Lloyd the way her own mother would tire her out. Her son’s maternal grandmother will play one type of game nearly every night up till her teenage years. It was a game of endurance and stamina. All needed were their family blankets, bits of string, a feather or two, their own hands, and a jar to place their bets, whether being money tips from their shows or necklace beads. One crux of this game though would mean someone who knows how to wrap blankets around a person that’s mostly inescapable. It cannot commence fully if the participant moves out of the way. Mary though of how her own mother trains the way she wraps her daughter in those blankets neatly and tightly enough to an extent Mary cannot simply run away should her endurance in this game fails but always felt as if she can just bail out if she wriggles enough for the blankets to loosen. To ensure the willing participant cannot escape one the flimsiest of movement and fully use their endurance, Mary will need someone who knows a thing or not about inescapable. What better choice than the Youngest Escape Artist in the World who just right now beaten Dick on their round on that videogame.

Mary calls out to the two after she can hear Dick’s game system turning off. “Alright you two, I think it be a smart idea to brush your teeth if I were you. You don’t wanna sleep with germs in your mouth tonight.”

“Aw, come on”, she can hear Calvin groan; “we really have to do it now? How about another hour? ”

“Well Rose, I didn’t say go to bed right away afterwards now did I?” Mary responds cheekily.

Calvin opened to reply only to realize on what he heard before she clarified herself. “Yeah, my bad Mrs. Grayson”, he says sheepishly and a soft chuckle.

Letting a chuckle of own in kind, Mary then calls to her son while in her room, looking through her necklace making kit for strong enough bits of string to use. “Richard, you go in first while your friend gets his toothbrush okay?”

“Sure thing, Momma” Dick replies happily before quickly turning to his friend, “I won’t take too long okay Cal?”

“Take your time, Dickie” Calvin says, “I can wait. I saw enough bad teeth around here that make my own teeth get cavities. Don’t wanna see you get it too” he remarks, making Dick laugh as the latter heads toward the trailer’s bathroom.

While Calvin looks through his travel backpack for that toothbrush, he notices Mary at the bedroom. Tellingly, she sports a bit of a smirk on her face. She recent has an idea, an idea for some mischief, and Calvin mostly has a role in it. At first, he sports a curious look on his face, thinking he’ll be the target for something. That immediately exits out of his thoughts as Mary approaches him regularly; no, what she has in mind is something completely different.

“Calvin, if you don’t mind at all, I need you help in something. It’s a little idea I have in mind for Dick but I’m sure you both are going to like this” Mary whispers excitedly to him, low enough in which Dick can’t hear them.

Calvin, now knowing that Dick will be the target instead of him, raises an eyebrow raised and a small smirk grows on his lips as well. “So, you do you have in mind Mrs. Grayson?”

“Well…” Mary says before almost muting her words via very softly stating them in his ear. As she explains her secret plan to Calvin in full detail, that smirk on his face grows into a more mischievous grin. Oh yeah, now that sounds like something he can do. As Calvin, nods his head, indicating a yes, Mary hands Calvin the piece of string she brought with her from her necklace set and begins loosening some of Dick’s blankets and bed sheets.

Around five minutes later, Dick finally steps out of the bathroom after rinsing off his teeth and makes his way back to bedroom. Along the way though, he can hears some whispered chatter between Calvin and his mother coming from there. He wonders what those two are up to since among the whispers, he can hear some light hearted laughter, meaning it was a plan alright. Most likely, it has him in the center of it. He might be only 8, but Dick’s not dumb. With a smirk on his face, he can try surprising his mother and his friend before they can do whatever they wish with him. Now stepping on his tip toes, Dick sneakily makes his way to the door to his room completely out of sight from his mother and Calvin, quietly standing next to the door out of sight. Should either his mother or Calvin start making their way out to check on him, he can unleash an ambush via a playful tackle and using his fingertips on their ticklish spots to pin them. As he spots Calvin making his way to the door after hearing his mother tell the former to check if he was doing okay, Dick snickers lightly, sticks to the shadows….

“Nice Try, Dickie!” happily exclaims Calvin while playfully grabbing Dick in a bear hug, causing the latter to squeal laughing, out of the shadows and onto his bedroom floor, trying to pin him. Of course having play wrestle him earlier tonight, Dick picks up on his friend’s pattern on how he pins him via pokes on his sensitive ribs. Not this time though as Dick cleverly slides out of Calvin’s reach and targets his own fingers on Calvin’s soles. Upon the first poke of that fingertip on his soft skin on his left foot’s arch, immediately Calvin yelps into a bubbling laugh of his own and topples face first onto the floor. Seizing the chance, Dick sits on his knees upon Calvin’s pinned legs, wraps his left arm around Calvin’s ankles, bringing these feet up to him and using his free hand, starts scribbling his fingers all across whatever spots on Calvin’s bare feet he can find.

While pinned and finding himself outmaneuvered by his younger counterpart, Calvin barely focuses on such a turn of events since those laughs are erupting out of his mouth like there’s no tomorrow. For good reason though, since out of all the places on his body he was sensitive, it was his bare feet. Now his friend goes all out with the velvet like skin on his soles, the pads of his ten toes and perhaps worst of all, the stems of said toes in which just tiny poke on them sets off a certifiable explosion of nerves being tickled all across Calvin’s body. Thankfully, before Dick’s free hand can make it to those stems on his toes, Mary cheekily tells her son to stop.

“Now, now Little Robin, let’s save tickling Calvin for a little later. We can’t have him pass out right now.”

Dick looks back to his mother with wide grin on his face before loosening his grip on Calvin’s ankles, letting his feet drop to the ground and giving the older boy a chance to breathe. It’s then though that Dick also notices his mother sitting on his own bed, more or less confirming what he had been hearing on his way back from the bathroom.

“So”, Dicks asks the two as they both smile mischievously picking up on the fact he’s onto them, “what do you to have in mind for right now?”

As Calvin grabs his toothbrush and makes his way to the bathroom for his own teeth brushing, Mary pats her hands on Dick’s bed, saving a seat for him. “Oh, nothing too big at all son; I just noticed both Calvin and you seem like you two can stay up all night if you want too, right?”

Dick nodded his head happily, “Yeah, Cal and I can stay up till the sun goes up Mom. There isn’t anything make us tired. No sir-ee.” That little boast more or less had Dick firmly in exactly where Mary wants him, easy prey for her little game. It was time to let the cat slip out of the bag for this one.

“Well, Little Robin, when I was your age, I thought the same thing on nights like this. So you would like to know what my mom did to me whenever I said I can stay up till to the sun came up?” she asks with a cheeky grin in her face.

“Nope, what was it?” Dick asks now genuinely curious.

Now for the bombshell, “Oh, Your grandma and I would bet something in a jar then she’ll have me wrapped up very tightly in the blankets.”

Dick asks, figuring out where this might be going, “Does the bet say something about how long you can last without getting too tired?”

Mary nods happily, as she fills in the blanks, “More or less, how long can you handle like say, your feet getting a good tickling until you either fall asleep or say you quit.”

Dick’s eyes widen with excitement upon hearing the answer but before he can act, Mary quickly slips her hand onto the soles of Dick’s right foot and begins lightly scratching it, ‘Like this!”

Almost immediately, a squealing laughter bubbles out of Dick’s mouth and he falls backward onto his bed, kicking his legs frantically to get his mother’s fingertips off his sensitive skin on that area. Quickly calming down and in-taking some air, Dick smiles happily towards his mother, now knowing the full picture of what Calvin and she have in mind. With that in mind, sure, he’s sensitive, the fact is Dick’s a Grayson through and through, he can handle soaring through the air on some ropes without a safety net below, and he can handle this for sure.

“So, want to give a try Little Robin?” Mary asks sweetly while cracking her fingers. “It’ll be perfectly fine with me if you don’t want…”

Rather than wait for her answer, Dick simply got underneath the blankets, place his head on the pillow on one end of the bed and stuck his two soft velvet soled bare feet out of the other end of the blankets where his mother was.

“Now just wait a minute Dickie” Mary says while playfully grabbing one of her son’s big toes lightly causing the latter to giggle lightly in turn, “I’d say we spice this up a bit by making it a game of who can last longer.”

Within the next minute, Calvin had stepped back into the bedroom out of his teeth brushing, noting almost immediately of Dick already in position. Now with his own smirk upon realizing what this means, he cracks his fingers and he too trudges unto the bed. Rather than go underneath the blankets, Calvin begins grabbing the ends of the bundle Dick is within and begins wrapping them up in a zigzag like pattern across the acrobat’s swaddled torso, arms and legs. Finally, after nearly two minutes of careful wrapping, he finishes off Dick’s fluffy restraints with a simply tucking in of a corner in his right side.

“Alright, Dick” Calvin says with his arms crossed and proud of his work, “try getting out of that.”

Sure enough, as Dick attempts doing so via wriggling around and trying to slide the blankets off him, nothing moved by a single inch. Indeed, Calvin’s restraining technique had worked, the little Grayson finds himself more or less completely trapped. All that Dick move at all were his head against his pillow and the toes of his two feet in which even then can only fan out or clench tightly, the latter of which he was doing now in anticipation for both his mother and his friend’s next move.

While Mary grabs a small empty nearby jar and placing it on top of Dick’s dresser, Calvin gets a small notepad and a pen to write down their bets. They are made rather quickly since let’s face it; they just want to get started already. Dick bets he can last for 1 hour of nonstop scribbling and poking on his feet, saying that should he lose, he owes his mother three straight nights in a row of doing the dishes after dinner and getting Calvin any ice cream next time they see a place to get some. Then the other shoe drops. “You have anything in mind you want to bet on for yourself, Calvin dear?” Mary asks. Cal’s face brightens up almost instantly since he knows he can participate as well. It was a chance he wasn’t going to back down on. Using a second small note paper, he write a bet of his own: Whereas Dick supposedly can last 1 hour, Calvin bets he can last 2 hours, should he lose, he owes the Graysons an entire dinner from a nearby take out joint one day and be the one getting ice cream for Dick instead.

Mary takes the two bets written in note paper, placing them that jar while Calvin hops onto the bed right next to Dick, getting his own set of blankets he brought with him to wrap himself in, and likewise poking his head out one end and his bare feet on the other. Mary tucks Calvin’s blankets around him tightly yet comfortably thanks to Calvin instructing her on the same technique he used to restrain Dick beforehand. Sure enough, like Dick, Calvin finds himself only capable of moving his head on his pillow and his ten toes, the latter only able to fan out or clench.

All preparations done, Mary finds herself staring at quite a sight indeed: before her blue eyes was what seems being a massive of well woven cotton and fabric sheets with two tousled heads poking out of one end and four perfectly formed feet out of the other. One pair of those feet was only a mere centimeter bigger than the other, with a tiny bit of callus on the balls and heels but otherwise was perfectly normal with their smooth curving arches and soft texture everywhere else for a growing lad like Calvin Rose. For the other pair, while slightly if at all smaller, the soles, arches and stems of the toes uniquely had a lighter skin tone in comparison to the tops, and with slightly longer toes in comparison to Calvin’s in which while not stubby, they had less space to poke those stems of said toes. Otherwise, Dick’s own feet, usually well maintained via applying skin lotion on them every other few nights before bed, had the same features as Calvin’s had. Overall, the two pairs of feet poking out of the mass of blankets before her made them all the enticing Mary’s mind to give in to them a nice motherly rub and then some. Frankly, with the addition of all twenty toes wriggling, fanning out and clenched in anticipation, really it was just those four feet saying ‘hey, give us your best shot, we dare you’ right to her. So, with her two hands descending on those four lovely feet, her left set upon Calvin’s and her right on Dick’s, Mary was indeed giving it her best.

She starts slow and methodical; running her index fingertips on the smooth soles of Calvin’s left foot and Dick’s right foot. The toes on each respective one clenched down followed by fanning outward and from there repeat slowly. Already, soft and bubbling giggles erupt from both boys, Calvin even clenching his mouth shut to prevent those precious giggles from escaping completely. Dick fared slightly worse with an ability in holding back the giggles already bubbling out of his mouth. Of course, though, Mary was just merely warming up. Next thing, the speed and number of her fingertips rubbing against the soles of all four feet grow per minute, leaving both Calvin and Dick now laughing slightly louder and far less ability to control it.

There was practically no spot on those soles, heels, or the balls of their feet left untouched by Mary’s darting fingertips. No matter how clenched or fanned out those four feet were, she continues onward. By now, the laughing from the two boys was at a consistent yet loud enough level that said laughter starts blending in a synchronized manner. From the looks of it to further this whole thing, neither showed any sign of fatigue so far. Mary does have to give Calvin and her son credit, about twenty minutes in, they have no quit in them. So now, it was time to escalate things a tad bit.

“Calvin, dear”, the mother asks while calming the frequency of her fingertips, softening a bit of the immense tickling and allowing the two to breathe a bit while still laughing their heads off, “do still have that string from earlier?”

“On…the…drawer….behind you…” Calvin was barely able to say in between his laughing, bopping his head to his right slightly to point Mrs. Grayson in that direction. Sure enough, there was the necklace just sitting on the corner of the piece of wooden furniture, perfectly intact. Originally, the string would find use for one person’s pair of bare feet on this occasion but now that they’re two, Mary decides to very quickly grab another one from her necklace in her room, giving the boys a chance to catch their breath. Not easy considering that scratching from Mary’s fingertips left phantom tickles they can still feel, causing them to still giggle intensely.

Calvin turns his head slightly to Dick’s direction, breathing out some giggles while having a slight smirk on his face. “Ready….to quit….Dickie?”

“…Nope…Cal….I…can still…last longer”, Dick responds with a small smirk of his own while also breathing through giggles

“I don’t know, Little Robin”, Mary hums happily as she re-enters the bedroom with two strings in her hands; “this next part will test you alright.”

Gently taking the two big toes of her son’s feet in her fingers, Mary carefully takes one of the string pieces and proceeds to wrap it around the toes. After as much loops as it can do, Mary toes the string in a nifty little knot. Now suddenly, Dick can barely clench his toes at all, leaving the stems completely vulnerable and practically defenseless. In a quick few seconds, Calvin too has a string piece wrapped and tied around his two big toes so now he too can barely clench his toes at all and now his stems are defenseless.

Sure enough, Mary cracks his fingers and presses a loving kiss on each of the boys’ temples before having a mischievous grin on her face as she goes face to face with four bare feet sticking out of the tightly wrapped blankets. Enter Mary’s fingertips as they begin lightly scratching within the toe stems of Dick and Calvin. To say the laughter came back with a vengeance, a tad bit louder than before and most sincerely full of energy would be a gigantic understatement.

Once more as before, no spot of those twenty toe stems and the toes themselves are untouched by Mary’s loving scratches and pokes. Both of the boys’ heads are now tossing and turning all over their soft pillows with little tears forming in their eyes. No matter hard the two Circus youths try holding it in by closing their mouths shut, their laughter still escaped. They are determined however; there is no way either of them will have to pay for the other one’s ice cream just because they lost a tickling game nor do all those dishes nor stand in line at next Red Robin restaurant they come across. As such, in spite of the utter expending of their energy and possibly their sanity, Calvin and Dick still do not quit.

About the forty-five minute mark of this whole thing, Mary still cannot help but admire the sheer amount of willpower the two boys have in the face of their bare feet receiving the treatment they get. So, once more, it was time to escalate things to basic all out war. The mischievous grin on her face going slightly bigger since now comes in that feather. Both Calvin and Dick are able to peeking through their otherwise shut eyes and suddenly their laughter changed it note slightly.

“Oh….no…” Calvin laughed out in somewhat dread.

“Oh yes” Mary proudly stated as the feather descends upon Dick’s right foot and Calvin’s left foot at the same time. Very lightly, the feather begins rubbing on the two pale feet. Already, the laughing is beginning to build up in volume. Sure enough, Mary strokes the feather slightly faster and accordingly, the laughter from the two reaches another decibel. From there, about fifty minutes in, the feather now strikes at random on both pairs of bare feet. If the feather stroke on the ball of Dick’s left foot, his laugh rises. If it strikes, Calvin right heel, his does. The tips of their toes prove being no exception since one glide across all twenty toes was enough to crank the laughter’s volume up a tad bit. As hard they try, neither Dick nor Calvin can clench their stout toes completely thanks to the strings tying their big ones. This happens while Mary’s fingertips dart around on spots the feather isn’t hitting.

Now at one hour and fifteen minutes, the nuclear option finally comes in, the feather now placed in the toe stems of both boys’ exposed feet. A simple stroke going rightward and back, rightward and back, up and down the stems, circling around the pads of the toes before coming back to the stems, rightward and…

“OK! OK!” screeches Calvin between his exhausted laughter, “I QUIT! I QUIT!”

Dick yelps happily in spite of his immobility in joy.

“I won! I actually won!” He yells, exhaustively yet ecstatically in his native tongue.

Mary has bubbling laughter of her own as she finally puts away the feather and loosens the strings on the boys’ big toes, finally giving their feet to move around more freely again. She leans over the winner’s tousled head and plants a few victory kisses on him, much to Dick’s slight embarrassment and Calvin’s light snickering.

Other than all that, both boys are just flat out exhausted. The scribbling, poking and feather stroking was apparently too much for their stamina to bear as Dick and Calvin both pant heavily and have small tears leak from their eyes onto the soft pillows they lie on. In between their panting, were still giggles since once more phantom tickles persist on their bare feet. Nonetheless those lingering nerves of theirs were fading out fast once they have a chance to be left be, yet so was the ability for the boys’ to stay awake as Mary can tell as she puts away the stings and jar containing their bets. Their panting had softened to deep and relaxed breathing as her ears can attest, just like how she felt once her mother stopped.

Remembering Calvin’s instructions on the blankets from earlier, Mary finds the one flap on both Dick and Calvin’s restraining bundles and gently tugs away, undoing all the tightening in one swift motion. Now the blankets are simply draped over each of the two, allowing their arms and legs underneath both the move freely. Not that they can though, given that one look on their faces, the two circus lads are starting to drift into deep and relaxing sleep.

“Looks…like (yawn)…I…owe…you…” With those words, Calvin was the first for sleep to claim as his eyes close, his breathing evens and his head tilts to the side with a peaceful smile on his face.

One quick kiss on Calvin’s temple and Mary pulls the folded part of his blanket to the bridge of his nose, doing so making the now asleep Calvin moan happily before shifting so that the blanket covers his entire face. Now, he was out cold. It looks like Dick was next.

Even though his eyes flutter to a slow close, Dick had a slight giggle as his mother drapes the blanket up and ruffles his black hair.

“I love you, Momma” Dick yawns dreamily “Good Night”

With a happy and proud sniffle upon hearing those words, Mary leans to give Dick one more kiss on the temple. “Good Night My Little Robin. Sweet Dreams”

Thusly, Dick eyes close completely and finally he falls into a deep and happy sleep as Mary covers his face with the blanket like Calvin has.

About five seconds later, then comes the soft snoring. Yep, both were completely dead asleep. Her game had worked.

Mary finally stands to get a good look at the two sleeping boys, completely covered by their respective blankets, the exceptions being only their crowns of their hair and most tellingly their bare feet on the other end. Normally, any other mother at this point would leave well enough alone, head to their own bed and close for the night. Mary certainly would do just that given her own tiredness kicking in. However, she always has a way to leave her mark on those she tickles. So there was just one tiny thing left to do.

She quietly and excitedly makes her way to her bedroom’s nightstand and after a good few seconds, finds what she was looking for. In her hands were a black marker pen and two cardboard tags with strings attached. Long story incredibly short, while her mother’s side of the family was filled with acrobats and circus folks, on her father’s side, their jobs were a tad bit…morbid. Medical examiners, surgeons, morticians, EMTs, funeral directors or in the case of Dick’s maternal grandfather and perhaps most frightening of all….a dentist; these were Mary’s cousins, aunts and uncles on that side of the family tree and while ultimately deviating from that career, she develops a sense of humor heavily inspired by it. So now both her more-or-less nephew Calvin and her son Dick were ‘dead asleep’ as evidenced by their light snores coming from underneath the blankets covering them, right? Well, as she writes down their ‘details’ on those two tags with strings, why not have them play the first part?

Mary finishes Calvin’s tag first and such with its attached string; she lightly as to not accidentally tickle him awake places it on the big toe of Calvin’s right foot. As to the question of where exactly Mary got such things, it was during a tour in London, during a day off, John and her out of morbid curiosity visited the nearby mortuary, and got the tags as souvenirs in the gift shop. It reads as such:

ATTACH TO TOE

NAME: Rose, Calvin

AGE: 10

GENDER: Male

ETHNICITY: White

WEIGHT: 45 lbs

HEIGHT: 4’ 11’’

FOOT SIZE: 5

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Brown

DATE OF BIRTH: 9/XX/90

PLACE OF DEATH: Bedroom DATE OF DEATH: N/A

CAUSE OF DEATH: Tickling Induced Sleepiness

MEDICAL EXAMINER: Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson

FUNERAL DIRECTOR: John Fredrick Grayson

COMMENTS: Do Not Disturb.

Calvin himself only let out a tiny giggle as the tag brushed very lightly on the sole of his bare foot but otherwise remained in deep sleep.

Sure enough, with that done, Dick too had a written on cardboard tag attached on his right foot’s big toe. While gently settling the string on the toe, Mary very lightly gave a tiny, playful brush to Dick’s sole, causing the acrobat to giggle lightly and very briefly clench his toes before they once more are still as if nothing happened. On his tag, it reads.

ATTACH TO TOE

NAME: Grayson, Richard John

AGE: 8

GENDER: Male

ETHNICITY: Romani

WEIGHT: 35 lbs

HEIGHT: 4’ 5’’

FOOT SIZE: 4.5

HAIR: Black

EYES: Blue

DATE OF BIRTH: 3/21/92

PLACE OF DEATH: Bedroom DATE OF DEATH: N/A

CAUSE OF DEATH: Exhaustion induced Slumber

MEDICAL EXAMINER: Mary Elizabeth Lloyd Grayson

FUNERAL DIRECTOR: John Fredrick Grayson

COMMENTS: Sleep Well, Little Robin. Momma Loves You.

Her work done, Mary caps the pen close and finally makes her way to her bed. Catching a last glimpse of the two sleeping boys with their bare feet poking out of the blankets, snoring away in their dreams and toe tags attached, she gently closes the door. The bright moonlight shines through the bedroom window on the two blanket covered boys while they sleep. This is their home, this is their life, and this is truly, what a nice evening looks like.

#dick grayson #calvin rose #mary grayson #sfw tickle fluff #sfw #family fluff #adoptive family #de facto family #haly circus #content warning #quasi family #mother and son #family bonding #nightwing #talon #dc comics

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cherimoyatea · 23 days ago

Text

The LaDs Men healing your inner child...

...they accidentally evoke your insecurities and comfort you.

❧ Part II - Rafayel - Tears & Tenderness

Pairing: Rafayel x You Synopsis: A playful banter goes wrong when Rafayel chooses the wrong words. Word Count: 820 Tags: rafayel doesn't want to snacked, banter gone wrong, bullying, tears, fluff, romance, comfort Side Notes: Part II of the mini-series! This time, we carry the trauma of having faced bullying, but we also find plenty of comfort in our beloved fishy. Similar to last time, I refrained from going into too much detail on the subject and instead provided hints to avoid any potential triggers. Oh and I bet he does taste yummy, but that's a plot for another day! Anyway enjoy! 🩷✨ Coming next: Part III - Zayne - Healing Hearts ❧ Part I - Xavier

"Excuse you, Miss Hunter!" Rafayel quickens his pace as you playfully pinch his cheek, turning his head to the other side to escape your teasing. "Oh, come on, Raf, just a little bite—I’m staaarving!" You easily catch up to him and tug at his sleeve, admiring his flushed face, which you find so endearing.

It’s been hours since you took a wrong turn during your trip, and now you’re trying to find your way back to the hotel while walking through the picturesque landscape. Rafayel grimaces as your stomach growls again, still horrified by the suggestion you made earlier. ''No, MC! You can't munch on me! Even if you ask a hundred more times, the answer is always NO!''

Pretending to pout, you stifle a laugh at his reaction. Of course, you don’t actually intend to do that, but getting a flustered response from your boyfriend is too much fun. You let go of his arm and continue walking beside him, an amused glint in your eyes. ''Fine, forget that! I bet you don’t taste as good as your fish friends anyway.''

The merman scoffs at your words, raising an eyebrow as he tries to ignore your teasing gaze. He knows you’re just trying to get a reaction out of him, so he decides to play along.

''Oh, yeah? Maybe I should just return to the ocean where I’m not being bullied then!'' He responds, his cheeks and ears turning a shade pinker as he walks. ''Is that what you want? For me to pretend you don’t exist, just like those losers did?''

He turns his head to see your reaction, and his grin immediately falters when he notices the frown that has appeared on your face, suddenly aware of his mistake.

Ouch. That hurt.

''Why would you say that?'' You glance at your partner as a tiny knot forms in your throat, questioning his words. He had just casually thrown them at you without a second thought and now he is taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. Rafayel's heart aches at the sight of the tears slowly welling up in the bright eyes he loves so much, and he immediately regrets his poor choice of words. He should have known better.

''You know how much this triggers me, Raf. How could you say something like that?" You hear your voice tremble slightly as you try to maintain your composure, your steps slowing until you come to a halt. No. Rafayel would never intentionally hurt you, but his words have stirred up memories within you—memories you thought you had left behind.

Now, they come crashing over you painfully, and that familiar feeling of helplessness threatens to overwhelm your senses.

The artist straightens his back, his gaze locked on you with growing concern, reflected in his pink-blue eyes. He had no idea that the simple remark he made teasingly would get under your skin, and he feels terrible for it. How could he have missed that you were still hurting even after all these years?

"I'm sorry, Cutie. Hey... please look at me.''

He gently turns you toward him, his hands resting on your shoulders. He can’t help but notice the hurt in your expression and silently curses himself for being the cause of it. "I'm a fool for saying that... please... don't you ever think for a second that I would want that, Sweetheart."

Tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you try to form coherent words from your trembling lips. The memories spin cruel, vibrant images in your mind and you try to shake them off somehow. Just moments ago, the mood was so light, and now you feel guilty for ruining it. "It’s not your fault, Rafayel... I just... it hurts...''

Rafayel nods understandingly as you struggle for words, his eyes watching you intently.

He has waited so long to meet you, his beloved bride. All he wants is your happiness, and the mere thought of you being distressed devastates him. He would do anything to ease your pain, erase your painful memories—even ignite his flames and set himself on fire if it could bring light and warmth during your darkest times.

''I know and it’s not fair, but what happened to you wasn’t your fault—none of it. You’ve always been nothing but perfect, and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.'' Rafayel's hands move from your trembling shoulders to your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his slender fingers as his expression softens. "And I will burn anyone to ashes who dares to say otherwise, alright?"

The beautiful Lemurian looks at you as if you are the only precious thing in this vast, ruthless world, and his tender eyes seem to seep into the cracks of your hurting soul.

"Please, can I see your smile? Let me see that beautiful smile of yours, so I can engrave it on the canvas of my eyes."

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

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the-fiction-witch · 8 months ago

Text

Protecting

Media Star Wars Original Trilogy

Character Luke Skywalker (Original Trilogy Luke)

Couple Luke X Reader

Rating Flirty

“Everything is so quiet, I don't like it” Luke senses danger and takes his lightsaber to protect her as they walk across the planet in search of the map piece,

"ohh will you put that thing away? Seriously you’re like a child with a stick with that thing" y/n rolls her eyes,

"what do you mean? I'm just protecting you," looks confused and a little annoyed,

"you've known me since we were six, you think I need protecting?"

He lets a slight smile crack across his lips, "I know you don't need it but I can't help doing it because I care about you,"

She rolled her eyes again and continued on through the trees in her grey jumpsuit but she kissed his cheek as she passed him, "Very cute Luke,"

He turns bright red, surprised but pleased and chuckles a bit, "Now who is acting like the child,"

"Says the one who just turned as red as a eaterlin," She laughed,

"shut up," turns his head away but is still smiling and his face is still a little red,

"come on I wanna find this map piece before it gets dark. As much as I enjoy your company Luke I am not in the mood for an impromptu camping sleepover,"

"all right, all right,” He chuckled, "wait wait. I think I heard something," he looked to his left and sensed a disturbance,

"Probably your own ego following behind you," she chuckled,

"don't joke around. I sense something and it's big," he said,

"ohh do you now," she smirked resting a hand on her hip and raising an eyebrow at him,

"I'm being serious. Something bad is about to happen and we aren't prepared.” He moves closer putting his arm around her protectively, "it's probably the Empire," he whispered,

"mhm" she glared a little, "oohh noo it's so scary and dangerous, won't you hold me close and protect me luke!" She playfully whined pressing her body to his chest and sliding her hands down him as she pouted her lips

his face turns bright red again and laughs "oh shut up it's not that. It's just that this whole planet sucks and the Empire is all over, They probably heard about us and are going to arrest us!" he keeps protecting you and looks around,

"for what?" She laughed as she keeps walking,

"you don't know? We are fugitives, remember" he says following behind her,

"I've been a fugitive since I was born. I'm still here aren't I?"

"yeah, that's true. but that doesn't change the fact that we are fugitives and the Empire hates us. If we get caught who knows what the hell they will do to us,"

"we'll be fine you have your Lazer sword" she joked

“My what?” He glared,

“You're big. Green. Lazer sword.” she joked,

“I am not even going to dignify that with a response,”

“Aren’t you? Cause it kinda sounds like you were responding there,”

"Well! What do you have?"

"pistol. Wit. And if all else fails these have got me out of a fair few Jams" she says zipping her jumpsuit a little to reveal more cleavage she holds her chest a moment jiggling them before she continues to walk,

He rolls his eyes and mutters, "If you are not careful you are going to cause some poor lad a heart attack."

"is the poor lad you?"

"maybe" he blushes and smiles while keeping his eyes on the surroundings but peeks and looks at her every now and again while blushing,

She chuckled and gave his cheek another kiss before continuing through the woods,

"Could you please stop doing that?" his face is red and he's still blushing,

"why? You do not want my kisses?"

"I don't mean that, they are just making me flustered," looks directly at you and his face is still bright red and he's blushing,

“Alright, come on skywalker lets find this thing before I end up opening you up and sleeping in you like a tauntaun,” she warns,

#starwars #star wars #star wars original trilogy #luke skywalker #lukeskywalker #youngluke #originalseriesluke #lukeskywalker x reader #luke skywalker x reader

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florencetypemaniacs · 8 months ago

Note

How would the Ro's react if someone was flirting with Mc?

(In crushing and dating stage)

I already did the crushing stage right here.

RELATIONSHIP STAGE: COUPLE

💛 Marcel

It would depend; he trusts you completely, so Marcel wouldn't be bothered, but as soon as the other person gets too close or you look uncomfortable, he is by your side.

"Excuse us, I need to see my girlfriend/partner/boyfriend for a moment."

Marcel's voice was tight but still quite friendly, even as his smile was almost tiger-like as he stared at the person who instinctively backed away a little. Marcel doesn't even wait for a response from the person, as he takes you by the arm gently until both of you are in private.

"Are you okay, darling?" He touched your cheek. "They didn't bother you too much; I can go out and talk to them for you. Make them leave you alone."

🧡 Margaret

It would take some intense flirting for her to notice, not because she isn't paying attention but because she wouldn't realize that the other person was flirting with you, but once she does, she is jittery, like she drank five cups of expresso due to her nerves.

Oh, poor Margaret, she would awkwardly stand between you, hating how jealous she is feeling but just watching the conversation like a tennis match.

She would place her hand in yours under the counter, worrying if you were going to leave her.

If you were to flirt back, that would absolutely break her; she would have to excuse herself and go break down in the other room

❤️ Owen

Owen would just put his arm around you, which would be surprising. Owen isn't the PDA type, but he would be that day.

The person looking at Owen's size and muscles backed away a little, but if they were to continue talking to you, he would just stare the person down as he kissed your cheek, hugging you from behind, and whispering in your ear.

Every so often, he would say little jabs at the person, not overly aggressive but enough to make the person get the hint to hit the road before Owen hit their face.

If you were to give him a worried or confused look, Owen would just raise an eyebrow at you as if acting this way was completely natural.

When the person finally leaves, Owen would go back to normal, leaning against the counter. If you were to question him about it, his only response would be

"I don't know what you're talking about, Lass/Duck/Lad."

💙 Rosemary

If Rosemary and you are a couple, then she has gotten over her relationship truma, has complete trust in you, and doesn't feel the need to be the center of your attention, even if it bugs her just a smidge. So unless the person is making you uncomfortable or bothering you, she wouldn't do anything besides glare at the person flirting with you.

When she saw a sign that you needed help, Rosemary would tell that person to get out.

"Alright, sweetheart, I think it's time for you to go." Rosemary said, her voice dripping with something dangerous as the person backed away a little.

"What? I just got here. Plus, me and this lovely-"

Rosemary squeezed your cheek, interrupting the person. "Ah, they are sweeter than sugar, aren't they, but as they are MY lover, I say you should take rejection like a champ and get the hell out before I take you out by the ear like a kid." Rosemary said brightly, watching as soon as the person ran out of the shop.

The next thing you know, Rosemary pulls you into a deep kiss. "Now that that is over, why don't we have a nice cup of tea?"

🩵 Tai

Yeah no. That's not happening. Tai would be so jealous, like smoke coming out of ears jealous.

Insults and berating about whatever the person was talking about would fly out of his mouth in such a way that it would leave you even amazed. Tai would have that classic, stoic look on his face before he drove the person away with his comments.

If you were to question him about it, he would blush a bright red. "They were flirting with you as if I weren't standing right here; what did you expect me to do?"

Tai would mumble about the person under his breath for the next hour about anything really—all negative comments, of course.

💚 Zane

Honestly? It is likely the same as the crushing stage, where he tries to kill the person flirting with you.

Although one thing is different, Zane isn't waiting for you to turn around before he gets in a person's face.

"Get out." Zane hissed like a snake.

The person looked taken aback. "Excuse me? Dude, you can't just..."

The white in Zane's eyes disappeared, replaced with black that matched the iris, making the person cower and jump back in surprise before running out of the store.

Zane then put you on the counter, placing himself in the middle of your legs before pulling you into a deep kiss then.......dragging you to the bedroom.

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buckychristwrites · 1 year ago

Text

This Night | OS | r.k.

Pairing: Roy Kent x F!Reader

Summary: It's a beautiful day for a youth football match, where you are the brand new coach. And what better way to start it than meet the infamous uncle of one of your players?

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: It's just fluff, lads. Roy Kent with a toddler. Reader is a mom

A/N: Took a break from Could This Be to write this. First time writing for Roy as the main! I hope you all enjoy! :)

Masterlist | Main Blog

“Alright, first match as a coach.”

You stared in the mirror, adjusting your cap for a second time. The nerves were eating you alive, and you had to pretend you weren’t completely nauseous, due to the fact that if you focused on it too much, you would, indeed, throw up.

“You can do this!” You told your reflection, pulling at the hem of your jacket. This had been how the last ten minutes had gone; mantras and adjusting your clothing. At this rate, you were never going to leave the house, let alone coach the game.

A tiny figure appeared in the mirror behind you, running up and pressing her tiny, pudgy fingers into the glass.

“You got this!” She squealed, throwing her head back to look at you before giving you a wide smile. It was hard to argue with that face, and hard to resist smiling back. Putting your hands under the toddler’s armpits, you hoisted her up at top speed, met with a loud giggle.

“Alright Eebee,” You told her. “Let’s get going.”

The walk to the pitch was a short one, luckily, as you had not one but two people who you had to ensure the arrival of. Evie was sat in the pram, facing forwards, with a small assortment of snacks to keep her occupied. She was making her little sounds, as she always did, and every time, it made you wonder what went on in her head. She was old enough to speak, but not enough to where she was completely understandable, at her crisp 2 years of age.

The sun was out in full swing, not a cloud in the sky, the perfect evening for a game of footie, and the pitch itself was in pristine condition when you arrived. The balls were left out in a box for you, as they usually were. Stopping at the edge of the field, you released Evie and let her run around the pitch while you watched. The hope was that she would tire herself out enough that she’ll nap during the match. You weren’t too confident in the plan, as she rarely followed the script you made in your head, but it didn’t hurt to try.

As players and their parents began to arrive, you were sitting in the grass, watching Evie kick the ball around the field.

“Hello, Evie!”

A flash of blonde ran past you and onto the pitch. When the toddler noticed her friend arriving, she squealed with joy before running as fast as she could to hug Phoebe. Standing up, you watched the two of them.

“God, seeing them together makes me want to have another,” Rachel said as she appeared in your peripheral. You smiled at her before turning back towards the two. Phoebe was holding Evie’s hand, bringing it up in the air and waving, but not at you or Rachel.

“Uncle Roy! This is Evie!”

Turning, you saw a tall, muscular man in a black t-shirt and jeans. His arms were crossed over his chest, and the only response he gave to his niece was a curt nod. It didn’t appear to bother her, as a bright smile filled her cheeks before she turned back to your daughter.

“So I finally get to put a face to the infamous Uncle Roy,” You remarked, glancing back at Rachel before your gaze found him again. You didn’t realize how long you had been staring until he met your eye, the look of disdain never faltering. Jumping in surprise, you immediately turned forward again.

“You don’t know him?” Rachel asked, sounding surprised. You looked at her, fighting the urge to sneak another glance at him.

“Should I?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Phoebe yelling, “Headers, Uncle Roy!” The other kids had started arriving at this point, and when they realized what she was saying, they all ran to line up behind her. Roy looked mildly inconvenienced by the question, but still stepped onto the forward and grabbed one of the balls.

“Alright, one at a time,” He said. It was so uniform, every child going one at a time without fighting, that you wondered how many times he did this with them.

“They seem to really love him,” You remarked to Rachel. She nodded.

“They all idolize him,” She said. “Especially Phoebe. Just can’t get enough of her Uncle Roy.”

“Oh I know,” You said with a laugh. “Can’t get through a single practice without her bringing him up at least once.” A beat passed. “It’s not as nice when she says she misses him being her coach though.” Rachel scrunched up her nose, her expression screaming with embarrassment.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” She said quietly. “She just loves him so much.”

It wasn’t hard to see why. He was so gentle with the kids as he threw the ball for each of them them, giving them a fatherly compliment with every single hit.

“Beautiful.”

“Lovely.”

“Great job.”

“I love that!”

He didn’t come off as a person who smiled often, making you feel like you were seeing some rarity in the wild as he laughed with the children. It almost felt invasive. A big secret that you were now in on.

The beating in your chest seized when Evie appeared at the front of the line, begging for her turn. Slowly, Roy kneeled down to her level.

“Alright, love,” He said gently. “Can you take a few steps forward?” She obliged, skipping a few steps until Roy beckoned for her to stop. She was bouncing up and down, waiting excitedly to have her turn, just like the big kids. He counted 1, 2, 3, before softly tossing the ball against her head. When it bounced off, she looked surprised for a brief moment before letting out a loud squeal. She ran up to Roy and threw her arms around his neck. He froze for only a second before wrapping his arms around her.

Your heart soared.

Roy approached you and his sister, Evie hanging off his neck like a monkey, and his one hand supporting her bum. Both of them looked completely nonchalant at this, as if it had been occurring forever.

“Does this belong to you?” His voice was raspy and low, and you wondered if it hurt his throat to talk like that all the time. Raising your hands, you reached out to the toddler, who, quite unusually, wrapped her arms tighter around the stranger.

“She does,” You said, your eyebrows knitting together. “Although, she seems quite fond of you.”

“Yeah,” He said. “Fuckin’ annoyin’, innit?”

At first, you were taken aback by his comment. But then, you saw it. The flash of humor in his eyes, and you realized that he was making a joke. A smile crossed your cheeks, and you were surprised when his mirrored yours.

“This is my brother, Roy Kent,” Rachel said, before adding “Don’t worry. He is the complete arsehole you think he is.” As she was introducing you to him, you found that you were asking yourself just one question: Do I think he’s a complete arsehole, though?

“Fuck you,” He said sharply, voice loud. A few parents glanced over, but none of them dared to say anything.

“Pleasure to meet you,” You said simply, watching as Evie swung her legs up and was now sitting on his shoulders like he was a climbing frame. You brought a hand to your forehead in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about her. She hasn’t learned her manners just yet, has she?” Your daughter gave you a mischievous look, as if she understood what you were saying.

He waved you off. “She’s fine. No trouble at all.” Giving him another look, you turned to Rachel.

“I was actually going to ask if you wouldn’t mind watching her during the game?” You smiled hopefully. “I couldn’t get a babysitter and… well…” Rachel stopped you with a hand to your forearm.

“Roy and I will take good care of her, won’t we, Roy?” She nudged her brother, giving him a look that you couldn’t quite decipher. He cleared his throat before. nodding.

“Yeah, yeah,” He said. “If she dies in my care, though, it’s your fault. Since I’m a stranger and all.” You playfully wrinkled your nose.

“Then I’d be forced to kill you.”

“And how would you do that?”

You leaned forward before whispering, “With my bare hands.”

He stared at you for a moment, as if assessing your ability to do that, when a few of the boys ran by, screaming, “Roy Kent! Roy Kent! He’s here! He’s there! He’s every-fuckin’-where!”

“Oi!” You shouted at them. “No cussing!” You eyed Roy, who’s cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. “What was that?” He gave a look to his sister before looking back at you.

“You…you don’t know?”

“Is there a reason I should already know you?” You asked, a little more demanding than when you had asked Rachel previously. “Unless you mean… I do know you’re Phoebe’s uncle, she talks about you all the time.”

He was looking at you, but in a way that was making you uncomfortable. It was like he had been enlightened to you somehow, like he was seeing you for the first time. The referee blew his whistle, making both of you turn away.

“You ready, Coach?”

“Yes,” Came out of your mouth, but it also came out of Roy’s. When you and the referee looked at him, he blanched.

“A bit below your pay grade, ain’t it, Coach?” The referee said, patting Roy’s arm before walking away. Roy appeared annoyed by this comment, but said nothing to confirm that.

You wanted to question it further, but Roy was faster as he nodded towards the pitch.

“Get goin’, Coach,” He said, taking Evie’s hands in his and having her wave at you as he slowly backed away. She giggled the whole time.

Watching a bunch of 8 year olds play football isn’t as exciting as one may think it is, but you were thankful that the halves were only 20 minutes each as opposed to the professional length of 45 minutes. Though you tried hard not to, you often found yourself looking behind you to see what Evie was up to. More often than not, she was with Roy, either being chased around by him, chasing him as he kicked around one of the spare balls, or actually watching the match while on his shoulders. Throughout the first half of the match, she was constantly heard laughing.

It was weird, seeing Evie so comfortable with a person who wasn’t you. After all, it has just been you and her for the last just over two years, and you had certainly never brought her around any men. And yet here she was, treating this man as if they'd known each other her whole life.

At the end of the first half, the score was 2-2, and your players were tired.

“You guys are playing so well,” You told them, applauding as they crowded around you. “Whatever happens, you all did amazing things on this pitch today.” Without looking over, you straightened up. “Coach Roy!” When you did turn. he was eyeing you curiously, forgetting to kick the ball from Evie so she couldn’t take it from him, which she quickly did. “Any words for these players?”

He approached, stopping right next to you with his arms crossed over his chest. A firm, hard look was passed across the players.

“Fuckin’ kill them.”

All of the kids screamed their heads off in agreement before running back onto the field. You looked at Roy in shock.

“You can’t say that!” You exclaimed. He shrugged.

“You asked.” You still had the same stunned expression when you watched him turn and scoop Evie up in his arms, her laugh echoing through the whole field.

His words of wisdom worked, for by the time the game ended, your team had won 7-2. And it only resulted in one bloody nose and two yellow cards (You talked the referee out of the red card for the bloody nose). You gathered the balls and put them in the box, leaving them out for the next set of teams who were due to play in an hour.

“Good game, guys,” You told your players. “Monica’s mum has snacks for everyone. You’ve all earned it.” Raising your hand up, all the players smacked your palm as hard as they could. The only exception being Phoebe, who instead tapped your hand with her forehead. When you gave her a questioning look, she smiled at you.

“Uncle Roy’s best friend taught me that,” She informed you before skipping off to her mum. You decided not to question it.

“See you guys for practice,” You called to Rachel and Phoebe, who both gave you a wave before walking off. It took you a moment to realize that Roy was not with them, meaning neither was Evie. You began to spin around in search of them, and were relieved when you saw him on the other side of the pitch, your toddler curled up in his arms. Her head laid on his shoulder, his hand running up and down her back in comfort. For someone who, you assumed, didn’t have children of his own, he sure handled them incredibly well.

It was very attractive, not that you’d ever admit that to him.

“How long has she been asleep?” You called to him as he made his way to you. He lifted his free arm in a shrug.

“‘Bout a minute into the second half.”

Shaking your head, you put your hands on your hips while staring at the sleeping baby.

“Thank you for watching her,” You said. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine,” He said. “Definitely more fun than watchin’ the match. Fuckin’ painful.” He pointed at Evie. “She’s gonna be a football star. Best player here today. Don’t tell Phoebe.” Laughing, you grabbed the pram and pulled it over. Though you offered to take her from him, he shook his head before carefully placing her in himself. Watching him be so tender with her made you feel some type of way. When he straightened up again, you looked down at the ground before looking back at him. His eyes never left you.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Roy Kent,” You said. He tilted his head slightly.

“You too.”

“Come on, Uncle Roy!” Phoebe yelled from the car park, Rachel grabbing her and smiling apologetically as she dragged her towards the car.

You bit back a smile as he mumbled, “Fuckin’ prick.”

“See you around?” You asked him, curling your fingers around the handles of the pram. He looked down at the toddler, then back at you before nodding.

“Yeah,” He said quietly. “You will.”

And as you walked away, the breeze hitting your cheeks in just the right way, as they were burning deeply, you found yourself hoping that you would.