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numinousmysteries · 5 months

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All the Seeds

@eightnightsofmulder

@today-in-fic

Eight Nights of Mulder Day Six: Dreidel [on Ao3]

December 1998

He almost kissed me in his hallway. He lets her call him Fox. He loves me. He loves me not. He came all the way to Antarctica to save my life. He ditched me with Gibson Praise to drive off with her in Phoenix. He loves me. He loves me not. He said he loved me when he was high on painkillers. He probably told her that countless times while sober. He loves me. He loves me not.

Being off the X-Files is bad for us. Running background checks on fertilizer purchases uses up too small a fraction of my brain power and frees up too much of my energy to think about other things…like what the fuck is going on in my partner’s head. He’s moody and more impatient than normal. His behavior borders on flirtatious at times but if I play along, he recoils.

When we worked on the X-Files together, Mulder and I were in sync. We rarely shared an opinion, but we had our routine well-established: Theory, countertheory, hunches, wild goose chases, and typically ending up just as clueless as when we started. It was a well-choreographed dance. We could do all the steps with our eyes closed.

Now, we’re stomping all over each other’s toes. Our rhythm is off. Sometimes it seems like we’re having two different conversations at the same time.

I don’t want to say it’s all Diana Fowley’s fault, but she sure as fuck isn’t helping. She tends to always have an excuse to call him down to the basement with a question about a case. She inevitably makes her way up to the bullpen around lunchtime to see if he wants to get something to eat. Mulder usually asks if I’d like to join, but I know it’s an empty invitation.

I’m not proud of it, but I do have a jealous streak. It isn’t even always romantic, either. I remember competing with my siblings for my father’s attention, and burning with anger if he seemed more impressed with one of them at any given moment. It was the same in school, from the time I was a child all the way through Quantico. I had such a desire to please my teachers and needed to be the favorite in every class.

Needless to say, being the subject of Mulder’s undivided attention—with the exception of the weekly cryptid or the occasional busty entomologist—for nearly six years felt good. Having to share him with Diana Fowley does not.

I know they have history. And I know she’s attractive. But it’s not even that. It’s the effect she has on him. The way he’ll believe anything she says without a scrap of evidence. The way she makes me feel like a nagging shrew. The way she gets to call him Fox.

He’s coming back from lunch now, striding across the bullpen towards me, and, is he…whistling? I sincerely hope all he had to eat was a sandwich.

“Hey, Scully,” he says, smiling. “It’s unseasonably warm out. What do you say we get out of here for a bit?”

“You’ve been gone for nearly an hour. Weren’t you at lunch with Agent Fowley?” I ask.

“Nah,” he says. “She got an urgent phone call before we made it out of the building, so I just went back to my apartment to pick up this book on cryptozoology that’s been on my mind.”

I notice he’s empty-handed. “But you didn’t find it?”

Mulder shakes his head. “I think it might still be in our old office. But I found something else.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small wooden top.

“A dreidel?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “This was mine when I was a kid. Ended up in the back of my bookcase somehow. Come on, I’ll teach you how to play. ‘Tis the season, after all, and I promise it’ll be more fun than running another background check. Although that isn’t saying much.”

I could use a break. This work is mind-numbingly dull and playing hooky for an afternoon with Mulder sounds much more intriguing. I return his smile and shrug on my coat.

As I’m following him through the bullpen, he calls out to me, a little too loudly, “I hope we’re not stuck on this stakeout the rest of the day, but knowing our perp I wouldn’t bet on making it back before sunset.”

“That’s too bad, Agent Mulder,” I reply, matching his volume and trying not to grin. “I was hoping to get ahead on all this paperwork.”

The elevator down to the lobby is crowded but he gives me a conspiratorial wink and I feel myself blushing. I’m pressed up close to him and can smell his musk and aftershave. We both can’t help but laugh once the lobby’s revolving door propels us onto the sidewalk. He’s right. It’s warm out for December and in the sun I barely need my coat.

We wander until we’re a safe distance from getting spotted and find ourselves a bench near the reflecting pool. Thanks to the temperate weather, the Mall is busy and we can easily blend in with the crowd of tourists and office workers.

“Ever played dreidel before, Scully?” he asks.

“I can’t say I have.”

“It’s easy.” He holds the top out to me in his palm.

“This is nun,” he explains, pointing to the side of the dreidel embossed with a character that looks like a backward letter C. “If your spin lands on nun, you do nothing, which is easy to remember. But nun looks deceptively similar to gimel”—he turns the top to a side with a nearly identical symbol, but this one has a little leg sticking out of the bottom, “and if you land on gimel, you get the whole pot.”

“What’s in our pot, Mulder?” I ask.

“Sam and I used to play with gelt but since we don’t have any, we can use these instead,” he says, pulling a bag of sunflower seeds out of his jacket pocket.

“If you land on shin,” he says, showing me a character that looks like a W, “you have to add a coin, or a seed in our case, to the pot. That leaves hey”—now he shows me the final side of the dreidel— “and that means you take half the pot.”

“I think I got it,” I say.

He starts divvying up a pile of seeds between the two of us. He brings one to his mouth, cracks open the shell with his teeth, and eats it. I’ve seen him do the same motion hundreds of times and it always makes me wonder what else his nimble mouth is capable of. I’m sure Diana has intimate knowledge of that.

“For good luck,” he says.

“Sure, Fox,” I say teasingly.

He cringes.

“Sorry,” I say, my eyes drifting to my pile of sunflower seeds. “That’s what Diana calls you.”

“Yes, and I hate it,” he says. “I’ve asked her not to, but it’s not a battle worth fighting. I think she does it just to irritate me.”

“I know you two were,” I pause. “Together.”

Why am I prying? He knows that I know. I know he’ll never say anything outwardly negative about her as much as I wish that he would. And I don’t want him to think that I’m fishing. But I can’t resist.

“A long time ago,” he says quietly.

“It must be nice to have her back, though” I say. “An old friend.”

He shrugs and plucks one seed from each of our piles to start the pot.

“You go first,” he says, handing me the dreidel.

I give it a flick with my fingers but my spin is too enthusiastic and the dreidel ends up falling off the bench.

“Easy there, tiger,” Mulder says with a laugh, leaning over to pick it up off the ground.

I try again more gently, and land on hey. “Nice, Scully,” he says, as I take one seed back from the pot.

We go back and forth like this for a while, our respective sunflower seed piles growing and shrinking.

“I never did this with Diana,” he says absentmindedly as he adds to the pot after landing on shin.

“You don’t need to tell me that, Mulder,” I say softly, once again avoiding his eyes.

“It’s true,” he says, bringing his fingertips to my chin, encouraging me to look up and face him. “I’m not going to lie to you. We were very close for a while and, at the time, I would’ve said she was the love of my life—”

I flinch and hope he doesn’t notice.

“—but that was before I met you.”

“Oh, please, Mulder,” I say, leaning back and away from him. “You were in a relationship with her. You lived together. You were…intimate. I’m just your partner.”

“I hope you don’t believe that, Scully,” he says sternly, and I realize he’s serious. “I thought I loved Diana because she was the first person to accept me for who I am, but it didn’t take long to realize that she didn’t really see me. She saw a version of me that she felt she could mold into someone she’d want to be with. When I didn’t want to go along with that, she picked up and left. But you see me, Scully. You really see me for who I am and you haven’t run away yet.”

He reaches across our sunflower seed piles to hold my hand. His touch is gentle yet firm, as if to reassure me. My lips are trembling and I feel tears welling up in my eyes. I’m scared to speak, not knowing what sounds will come out.

“And I see you,” he continues. “You’re so fucking loyal and honest and you fight for what you believe in. You’re principled and kind and even though you challenge me every day, there’s no one else I’d rather argue with. You give my life meaning.”

He squeezes my hand tighter. I try to hold back my tears but it’s no use. I blink and they’re streaming warm down my face. My heart and my mind are racing. Passersby are milling all around us but we’re frozen like statues.

“Mulder,” I gasp. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, smiling as he passes me the dreidel. “Just spin.”

Catching my breath, I give the dreidel one last spin on the bench.

“Gimel!” he shouts excitedly. “You get all the seeds, Scully. And all of me. Don’t forget that.”

“Too bad I don’t like sunflower seeds,” I say, smiling at him shyly.

“Well, I can take those off your hands,” he says, sweeping all three piles of seeds back towards him. “But you are stuck with me, unfortunately.”

We lock eyes. “I can live with that,” I say.

He returns the seeds to the plastic bag and tucks it back into his jacket pocket. As we walk back to the Hoover building, he drapes his arm around me. For the first time in months, we’re back in sync.

I think he just might love me.

#eightdaysofmulder #eightnightsofmulder #8dom #txf #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #msr

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kookieswan · 2 years

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Red Light - Twisted Hands

Nightmare!Hoseok x Psychologist!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre: Horror AU, Monster AU, Psychological horror, angsty, fluffy…? Kind of?

Warnings: Talk of sexual harassment toward MC including inappropriate touching, violence/aggression. Shit goes down. It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!

Summary: It’s time to face Hoseok again, and based on the terrible morning you’ve had, you already know it’s not going to go nearly as well as you hope.

Notes: Hoseok has returned! This takes place a few days after ‘Fair Warning’. It’ll have a sequel (pt. 2) and a prequel (pt. 0.5)!, let me know what you all think! ♥️

This is the 19th part of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You haven’t been doing as I said.” Your eye twitches almost violently, but you ignore it to the best of your ability as you enter the room. All of the stress from work is starting to slowly creep up on you, but you do what you do best; ignore, ignore, ignore. It’s your job to be here for these men in a professional manner, and so you will be even if you want to flick Hoseok’s forehead every time he speaks.

“Hello to you too Hoseok. No, I haven’t because it’s my job to collaborate with all the other doctors down here. I can’t just ignore them for no reason. You should be aware that it’s not that easy.” Glancing around, you take note of how different this room is from Hoseok’s usual cell. He sits behind actual metal bars, his hands tied up some way behind his back in his chair. Like usual, he seems to lack a shirt underneath his jumpsuit, chest on display. You’ll really have to ask him about that soon.

“So, tell me how you’ve been. Any concerns? Anything you wish to discuss? I know this isn’t usually how we meet but I hope it suffices.” He shakes his head slowly, looking around the room as if he’s never seen it before. You know it’s one used for different tests the doctors run, a slew of equipment scattered around the area. You’re not sure you want to know the exact uses of the machines.

“This is fine with me dearest doctor. There’s a new Nightmare down here. I’m curious about him.” Hoseok seems to look through you then, face passive as you adjust your position, clutching your notes tightly. He’s clearly mad about your decisions, but your hands are just as tied up as his seem to be, something he isn’t taking into account. Bitterness wells up in your chest without permission to match his.

“And I’m not going to say a word. It’s not my place to discuss him with anyone else, and discussing him won’t be beneficial to you most likely.” It comes out sharp, your voice a mix of unrest and anger. It doesn’t help that you’ve been worrying about this meeting since you left Hoseok’s room over a week ago. You still don’t know how he figured out your name, or how he seems to know so much. It’s odd. The Nightmares eyes widen fractionally as he leans forward, lips twitching between a frown and smile.

“My, my… Someone’s being rather snappy this morning. Why?” It actually makes you scoff, setting your notes in the table next to you and crossing your arms. You breath in and out slowly before speaking back up, trying to control a pending outburst. You’re not sure when the tables turned but you certainly don’t like it. Not a bit.

“No reason. Now, let’s-“ Hoseok cuts you off, voice serious, eyes dark. He slides forward in his chair, dragging it against the floor and making it screech. The sound irks you to no end, a shock of cold warmth taking over your body.

“You’re lying to me. You’re clearly very mad about something and I won’t talk to you until you let it out. So tell me _____, why are you-“ And that’s all it takes for you to explode. It’s not your fault that all of your coworkers treat you like less than, and it’s especially not your fault that Andrews is a gross pig. It’s only a matter of time before the rest follow.

“Because Hoseok, I’m stressed! I’ve got five Nightmares to look after and no one down here seems to think I’m smart enough to do it! Williams is constantly on my ass figuratively while Andrews has decided to take a more literal approach and-“ The Nightmares stops your rant before you can really get going, head tilted toward you, wings slowly starting to stretch out from his back from their relaxed state. It’s the first time you’ve noticed them today.

“What did he do?” You zip your lips, fully aware that you’ve just done something very, very bad. Hoseok looks livid before long, face twisting up in anger the longer he stares, the longer you stay quiet as events from this morning run through your head. You’re not even sure what to say to him without making him go on a tirade.

“What. Did. He. Do…?” It’s quiet this time. Level, but there’s enough sharpness in his voice to cut right through you, to let you know that he won’t let this go. Lying isn’t going to get you anywhere with him, so you speak out softly, trying to calm him even though it’s likely a lost cause.

“… He touched my behind but honestly Hoseok, I can handle it myself. I’m a big girl.” He nods, still looking extremely angry as he forces out a laugh. It’s void of any actual happiness, a hollow kind of sound that makes you shiver. You’ve messed up.

“No, a big girl would have listened to me and all the others that have warned her. It’s my turn to take care of things doctor. Call in the guards.” What? He wants you to call for the guards…? You stare at him, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“Excuse me…?” He raises an eyebrow, tugging loosely at his restraints before slowly standing. His wings a stretch out further, cracking slowly as some of the bones pop. They don’t seem very well kept now that you look closer, many of the feathers missing, much more than usual.

“You heard me. Call in the guards and let me handle this. I know exactly where that little slime ball is. It’ll only take a minute.” A disbelieving laugh leaves you as you gape at him, unsure of how serious he’s being. He can’t be serious, can he? He can’t actually think… It doesn’t matter how mad you are or how much you think Andrews should pay. You okay idly with the ring on your finger, twisting in over and over in panic.

“Hoseok, you can’t honestly believe that I’d condone you breaking out and harming a doctor, right?” A smile then. A cold smile, head moving side to side as he cracks his neck like he’s gearing up for something. Every warning light flashes in your head but you ignore it like you’re so good at doing.

“I don’t think you’d mind nearly as much as you say you will. So, will you call the guards in or will I have to?” Staying quiet, you can only stare back at him as he waits for your response. When he doesn’t get one, he nods, let’s out a low whistle, and turns around, his wings brushing against every corner of the small cell.

“Suit yourself…” He shrugs… And then he starts screaming, the sound nothing you’ve ever heard, certainly not human. He bangs on the wall, wings expanding out so far that they look like they’re being smashed as they crack and crack and crack. You watch in utter shock as the guards practically rip the door off it’s hinges, running right past you into what you can only assume is a trap. The metal of the bars start to give, bending outward from the force of the Nightmares wings.

“Hey! Stop fucking causing trouble!” They’ve come in to try and calm him maybe, to take him back to his cell, but it’s not working. The worst thing they could possibly do is unlock the door, and they do just that, trying to wrangle Hoseok in and stop the damage he’s causing. He’ll have none of it though, head butting one so hard in the face that he collapses while the other gets knocked out with a wing to the gut. It happens in less than ten seconds.

You watch all of this from your chair like it’s a movie, eyes wide and unable to look away. Hoseok flexes his arms then, and pulls until there’s a light snapping noise, the cuffs he had worn only moments ago falling to the ground. He walks past the crumpled up men, steps out of the cell, and approaches you in all his glory. There’s the lightest touch of a clawed hand on your shoulder, one you barely register.

“Don’t you worry a hair on your pretty little head. I’ll take care of this dear.” And then he’s gone. You blink once, twice, and then hurl yourself out of the chair, desperately trying to keep up with him. This isn’t going to end well, especially if Andrews dies, not for anyone.

“Hoseok…! Fuck.”

#red light ♥️#hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #Hoseok #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts x you #bts fluff #bts angst #bts horror au #bts monster au #bts

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astra90x · 2 years

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Flufftober Day 20 - Bedtime Stories

@flufftober

Fandom: Stardew Valley

Pairing: Sebastian x Reader

Word Count: 862

Reader Pronouns: She/Her

This is one chapter of an entire linear story! It can be read separately but is better when read as a whole. Enjoy!

❤❤❤❤❤♡♡♡

Usually, with how much work you do in a day, falling asleep is more than easy. You work your body to its limits to keep your farm going, and when your body gets the opportunity to rest, it embraces it gratefully. However, as you’ve gotten deeper into winter, and you’ve spent more and more time each day sitting inside or doing things outside that require little energy, you’ve found it increasingly harder every night to fall asleep.

Tonight has been the worst of it, so far. You’ve been in bed since midnight and it’s almost one o’clock now, but you still don’t feel any closer to falling asleep. Your eyelids want to do anything but close. Sighing, you roll over for the millionth time, trying to get comfy enough to become tired.

After another twenty minutes and still no luck, you eventually decide to just give up and grab your phone. If you’re going to be awake, you might as well do it scrolling mindlessly through social media.

However, when you pick up your phone, you realize that it’s opened onto a conversation you had with Sebastian—the one after your Solarian Chronicles game. You flick through the messages, a smile forming as you reread what was your first “real” text conversation with him. You’ve had a few since, but none as long at this one. It’s wonderful to read through your old messages and realize how far you’ve come.

You move your finger to the corner of the screen to exit your messages, but through your half-lidded eyes, you miss the button by a fraction of an inch and hit the one next to it instead.

The call button.

Oh no.

The phone starts ringing before you know what’s happening, and you frantically move to hang up, but your finger is hovering just over the button where you hear a low voice say, “...hello?”

“Um, hi,” you reply quietly. You’re a little afraid that Sebastian will be upset with you for interrupting his night, so you add, “I didn’t mean to call, sorry.”

“That’s alright, I wasn’t asleep yet.” Though you don’t doubt that Sebastian was up this late, the grogginess of his voice implies that he’s at least in bed. Your guilt doubles. “Why are you up so late, though?”

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping for days,” you groan. “Tonight’s been the worst of it, I don’t even feel tired yet.”

“I’d offer to sing you a lullaby if I thought that would help,” Sebastian chuckles. You resist the urge to blurt out that a lullaby from Sebastian would help. Anything to hear that singing voice again. “Is there anything I can do, though?”

“Mm, I don’t know,” you respond. You like the idea of Sebastian helping you to sleep, but over the phone, you don’t know what to suggest. Options are, unfortunately, limited.

“Would it help if I told you a story?”

The suggestion catches you a little off guard, but after considering it for a moment, you think that listening to Sebastian talk would relax you enough to help you sleep.

“If you have one to tell,” you reply. “And if you don’t mind, of course.”

Sebastian laughs. “Not like I’m doing anything else with my time. If it’ll help, I’d be more than happy to.”

You settle down into your covers as Sebastian’s end of the phone goes silent, but after a minute, he says, “Ah, okay, I know what to tell you. I hope you don’t mind nerd stuff.”

“Nerd stuff is great.” You can almost hear Sebastian’s smile as he launches into a story. It sounds like one of his Solarian Chronicles campaigns, with a storyline involving a kidnapped princess, a brave knight, and a dragon. Not only that, but he names the princess (Y/N), and the knight Sebastian. You figure he’s only doing it to add some extra personality to the story, but it makes your chest feel warm and fuzzy anyway.

Sebastian describes the adventure for almost half an hour, and though you’ve gotten incredibly invested in the story, you can feel your tiredness growing with each passing minute. First, you submit to closing your eyes, then you have to fight to keep your consciousness as sleep creeps its way in. Eventually, you’re unable to fight any longer, and you drift off to the lull of Sebastian’s voice.

~~~

Sebastian keeps talking for another few minutes before he realizes that you’re asleep. He quiets his voice down and slowly phases out his words so as to not stop abruptly and wake you up with the sudden silence. He listens to your rhythmic breathing for a moment and smiles softly to himself.

Though Sebastian isn’t feeling super tired himself yet, he gently sets his phone to the side and gets himself comfy within his bed, not doing anything except listening to you on the other end of the phone. He knows that he should probably hang up now that you’re asleep, but for some reason, he can’t bring himself to.

He sits silently for what must be at least twenty minutes, just enjoying your invisible presence, until he too falls asleep, the phone call still active.

❤❤❤❤❤♡♡♡

#flufftober2022 #day 20 #stardew valley #sdv sebastian #stardew valley sebastian #x reader

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dingoat · 1 year

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One more, because they really are all good words. PROTECT

[Wooo, this is one of a bunch of prompts that I've sat on for a good long while, and the 'must write something' urge hit me hard enough tonight to get it out! I never actually used the word directly here but the sentiment is definitely what drove me to put this together. Based on several conversations with @cinlat musing over the SIS/Republic side of things in the werewolf au, here's Crow and Fynta having a nice little chat post his Imperial defection. >.>]

---

“Fynta. Hey. Hey is that you?”

“Crow!?” Fynta’s voice, a little rough with static through the hacked comm, sounded even more incredulous than he’d been expecting. But that quickly switched to pure acid as she went on. “Crow, what the kriff do you think you’re doing, you son of a-”

“No time for pleasantries. Please. Listen to me.”

“Like hell I’m going to give you the time of day, traitor. How about you drop by HQ and tell me what you think I need to hear from behind bars?”

He could hear the snarl in her tone, and even though he understood the place of hurt it came from, there was nothing she could say that would make him double back on his choices. He was also reasonably sure that it was that hurt that would have her hang up on him sooner than any of the ferocious anger she clung to, so he decided to get to the point before she did. “Did you know they built a homing device into me?” Fynta’s momentary silence was telling. When she spoke again, her tone was heavily guarded. “A what?”

“Homing device. Return to sender. Override of my own damned body. Did you know that? That the SIS could flip a switch and my wings would fly me straight to ‘em if I just happened to come into range…”

Fynta snorted. “Sounds like a good insurance policy to me. So what, now you get to live the rest of your life just hoping you never drift in range of an SIS signal tower? Have fun with that. Look forward to seeing you again.”

“Fynta.”

“C’mon. Try ‘Captain’. Just once, once ever. Surely it won’t burn a hole through your tongue now that it doesn’t mean anything to you any more.”

“Fynta. Please.”

“Or was it just me?” Her tone continued to be goading, sneering, making Crow wonder if there wasn’t some part of her that wanted to hang onto any sort of conversation with him, even if it was through antagonistic stabs. Like she couldn’t dare let the conversation veer into a place that reminded her of the times they’d actually enjoyed one another’s company, but couldn’t quite bring herself to end it. “Didn’t ever like the way I talked about your pretty little ex, did you? Made you never want to show me even an inch of respect…”

Crow pressed his fingers into his forehead. “Fynta stop. The homing device is coming back to you. Dunno where exactly, but it’ll be soon, and I ain’t attached to it.”

He was gratified to hear silence from Fynta as she chewed on his words. “And you’d be telling me this exactly why?”

Crow puffed out a slow breath. “I’ll be slaughtered if they ever find out about this conversation.” Well, not me specifically. It’s Thirteen who’ll be ground up for mince meat on account of my little transgression, but there’s no kriffing way I’m telling you that. “It’s not like Intel was gonna find that tech and leave it on me. They stuck it on a probe droid. Rigged to the antennae with detonite. Whoever winds up dealing with it is gonna wind up disintegrated.”

There was a fractional pause, and Fynta’s tone was cold. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re risking Intel crashing down on you to let me know this. How do I know this isn’t some Intelligence gig, and they’re feeding you every word you tell me?”

It was Crow’s turn to pause, and consider the fact that it was entirely possible that Fynta never would trust another word to come out of his mouth for the rest of his life. He wasn’t sure how to describe the working relationship they’d had, at odds with one another as much as they’d been in sync, and yet undeniably in it together. But whatever it had been, he’d betrayed it completely.

He didn’t regret it, but a heavy sigh filled the silence before he spoke. “The Republic might be a lesser of two evils, but the SIS sure as hell ain’t what’s keepin’ it that way. I don’t give a flying feth about ninety-nine per cent of your colleagues. But who d’you reckon is the most likely person they’re gonna send out to retrieve what they figure is ‘me’? Who knows my specs better than anyone, and I’d go as far as to include me in that? Who d’you think would leap at the chance…?”

“Rivet,” Fynta said, her tone softening against her best efforts otherwise.

“Yeah. Rivet.” Crow’s tone was uncharacteristically solemn. The team’s mechanic, engineer, programmer, technician… name it, and she could work with it. Easily as important as a medic, as far as the team’s physical fitness was concerned, and far moreso in terms of their functional capacity as elite, specialised agents. A bright eyed squib with more optimism than one could ever expect to fit into such a diminutive body, Rivet had a knack with cybernetics that was well beyond uncanny. She and Crow had gotten on like a house on fire.

“Broke her heart when she realised you weren’t coming back.”

“She deserves better.”

“Not too late for you to come try to make good with her for never saying goodbye. If any of us has it in them to forgive you-”

“Nah, I mean she still deserves better. Even now. Better ‘n the life the SIS lets her have. Definitely better than walking head first into an Intel trap. All the rest of us might’ve been lost causes when we signed up, but not her. You see she’s taken care of, Fynta.”

Crow ended the call before he’d even voiced the final syllable. He’d done enough.

#one word drabbles #writing prompts #werewolf au #steel crow #fynta mecha-wolfe #fynta #au fynta

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drdelphinecormigay · 2 years

Note

Hi ☺️ I never really make requests, but I have been inspired by your asks

Maybe you can do a short hc on the scenario you just mentioned about Callie being gentle and sweet with Arizona but like also showing her badass side to other people? I’m not phrasing it right but I hope it’s comprehensible, and no pressure of course 💓

ps you’re one of my favorite authors 🤍

Hi!! So sorry for the slow reply on this one and thank you so much! Yes this is something I can definitely do:

- It is a well-known thing amongst the interns and residents that a case with Dr Torres can mean a wide variety of things, depending on the circumstances. If she’s operating by herself, it’s quite intense; she can be very forceful and domineering and likes to throw you in the deep end, and if you aren’t able to hold your own (without being a pretentious idiot), it’ll pretty easily turn kinda hairy. She’ll still teach you, but there’s no guarantee it’ll be a fun time, or will be asked back into her OR. Dr Torres respects those who are worthy of it, but has little time for those that aren’t. The same can be said for the majority of joint surgeries with other attendings; no matter how nice they are, you’ve got to earn Dr Torres’s respect or you’ll have a tough few hours in the OR.

However, if it’s a joint surgery with Dr Robbins, it’s a different story. The interns seem to trip over themselves to get on joint ortho/peads cases, because if you are willing to put up with the mindless chatter about what’s for dinner and weekend plans, it’s like a different side to Dr Torres. She’s still brilliant and creative and all the things that make her the leading ortho surgeon that she is, but she’s also just a little bit less scary. She’s never overbearing or babies Dr Robbins, but it seems just the presence of the other surgeon seems to mellow her a fraction. That, and that Dr Robbins wont take any meanness towards the interns (unless they deserve it). There is a secret ballot amongst the interns to get on ortho/peads cases. They think Dr Torres and Dr Robbins aren’t aware of it, but they totally are. And they think it’s hilarious.

- Arizona can very easily hold her own at work. Be it in a consultation, a disagreement with another surgeon, a difficult parent of a patient, an intern messing up the OR. And Callie knows this, and knows not to step on her toes in the name of defending her (no matter how hard it is). But there’s always a line, a limit, a point in which she cannot just stand there and let her girlfriend be spoken down to. And she can’t even begin to count the number of times she’s stepped up and phrases like ‘best surgeon your kid will ever have the privilege of being treated by’ and ‘do you even know who you’re talking to? have come out of her mouth. Arizona sometimes finds it frustrating because she can hold her own (most of the time. She doesn’t talk about the authority issues), but at the same time there is something kinda hot about Callie defending her honour

- Callie has absolutely no time for any of the ‘I’m so great and amazing’ shit that some of the male attendings like to pull (read: the documentary episode with Derek and Mark banging on about being ‘titans’ and Callie rolling her eyes at the camera). And she’ll tell them that to their faces (again read: Callie criticising Derek about how he thinks he’s the white hot centre of the universe). Sure, they’re good surgeons, and she respects them very much for that, but she hasn’t got time for big-headedness. A cocky surgeon is a dangerous surgeon. (And sure, she’s well aware of her own skill, but she’s not gonna let it make her into a daredevil).

However, she is 100% Arizona’s biggest cheerleader. The second she needs a pep talk, or there is any discussion about her skills (good or bad), Callie is there and Callie is bigging her up. According to her, Arizona is the best surgeon in the entire world and she will let anyone who is willing to listen know about it. Sometimes, Arizona has to tell her to cool it a bit in front of patients because, as much as she’s good, she’s no superwoman, and Callie will listen (because it’s Arizona) bur she doesn’t believe her, and it won’t stop her from doing it again the next time it comes up.

#calzona headcanons

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dinasilvertongue · 2 years

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When your baby girl is back w/o her check-engine light on (I’m almost sure it’ll pop back up soon enough because I can’t imagine a life w/o the check-engine light on, but it did not come back on during our short drive home)…. These are definitely my new guys—they’re very honest, hard-working as well as very friendly & professional, even though their shop is a total hole-in-the-wall 😆—but that’s what a mechanic shop *should* look like… ☝️ Look at that super-fantastic oil change deal they got—three oil changes for just a hundred bucks! (one single oil change—that’s synthetic, thank you very much—would have only been $55 on its own, which is actually less than Elvis started having to charge me after the prices went up)…. Now, I know those Eastern-European dudes only charge $35-40/hr for their labor, which is only a fraction of shop labor charges, and they do find extremely cheap parts (which isn’t always a good thing)—but there are clearly pros & cons (plus, they don’t give receipts for my ongoing tax schemes)—so I’m happy to make the adjustment…. Let’s hope those stalls do stop 🤞—but if they don’t, I’ll be back at Earl’s for further investigation…

#turns out that Tim guy was not our mechanic—#he was the guy ‘stuck behind the computers’#the dude who worked on my car is named Phil but I didn’t see him #everyone thinks it’s weird that my tires do *not* need rotation (which they were honest about)—but that is the case w/this new set as well #Elvis says it’s because it’s a hybrid—but no-one else seems to know about that feature

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mckeedinesen73 · 2 years

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lausen72brodersen · 2 years

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primofate · 3 years

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Breaking Up (Part 3-Final) Albedo x gn!reader

Scenario: Breaking up and getting back together again

Characters: gn! reader x Albedo

Warnings: This is the FLUFF part. Not proofread.

Categories: angst in Part 1, comfort in Part 2, Fluff in Part 3

Read: (Part 1) (Part 2)

You hummed a light tune as you walked around fields, gathering herbs from trees and shrubs. The sun was about to set, and it painted a slightly orange hue on the sky.

“Y/N,” You stand and turn, sunsettia gathered around your arms and other herbs in your backpack. Albedo is walking towards you with a soft smile, and you return it with a bigger one. “Albedo,” you pipe up and jog to meet him halfway. He thinks you’re a little bit like a puppy sometimes, it’s just not possible to resist the eyes that look up at him expectantly.

All his fears came crashing down on him once more and he half-panicked.

He wraps one arm around your waist and leans in for a quick kiss on the nose as a greeting, before pulling away and helping you with the sunsettias. “You lost track of time again,” he states and you just laugh sheepishly. “Ah...yeah, I get too into ingredient gathering sometimes...”

Albedo had gotten home and found a note on the table stating where you were. Just like he had requested. Weeks following the two of you getting back together there’d been an incident where he came home and found that you weren’t there yet again.

Had he done something wrong?

Did he say something bad?

Where were you?

Did you leave again?

Only to have you strolling into the house the next moment, smile on your face, saying that you went out to do some shopping. He swept you into a hug that confused you. He was beyond terrified that it might have happened again.

He’d go as far as to say that it was borderline PTSD.

“Can you kindly do me a favor and leave a note if you’ve gone out? It would really... make me feel better,”

And you understood. Perhaps you would’ve felt the same way. If you came home late at night and found that he wasn’t home yet. You’d tend to think that something happened to him, and so you complied to his request.

He’d become a little better at managing his time. He figured Sucrose could handle more responsibilities and figured that he could also work a little bit at home. Readings and research did count as work, the only downside was that he had to borrow books from the library and bring it all the way back home, but he didn’t care much about that. You kept the house so warm and cozy that it was the perfect place to concentrate and be productive.

“Come,” Albedo beckoned you from the chair of his makeshift office at home. You tilt your head, as you were about to leave the tea on his table and leave him to work again but he’d grabbed your hand and tugged you towards him.

“Can I help you?” You asked with a slight grin to your question. He pulls you over to his lap, arms around your waist and has your back flush against his front. His head hovering above your shoulder as he continues his reading as if everything was normal, and as if you weren’t sitting on his lap. “Am I just going to stay here?” You giggle and tilt your head back to look up at him.

A small smile cracks on his face as he shushes you, “Shh, absolute concentration is needed during research, Y/N,” but he lets go of the papers he was holding and leans back into his chair, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “You’re required to stay until my energy levels are back to normal,”

“And what’s your energy levels now?” You play along with his little game, him starting to pepper kisses on your cheek. “I’m at zero, you’ve only just come in after all,”

Sometimes you wonder if he really gets any work done, but it looks as if he does, and is even more determined to keep researching certain things. Of course, there were still days where he was incredibly busy. But he’d made up for those days by being considerate and aware of the time he spent at work.

“I apologize... It got busy again this week...” he nearly sighs as he wraps his arms around your waist, the same nose kiss as a greeting. You’re a little more understanding of his predicament, but mostly because he communicated more. Where before he would come home and not say anything, now he would apologize and tell you about what was going wrong in his schedule.

And the next day he was free, you’d wake up without worrying about breakfast because he had prepared it--granted he wasn’t the best cook in the world but he knew some recipes--and he knew just how you wanted your coffee or your tea.

Turns out those little things did add up and made everything much easier.

“What’s for dinner today?” He asks as the two of you walk home. You put on a thinking face, “Maybe some cream stew?” the small talk the two of you engage in is peaceful and natural. “Would that be okay?” You glance at him, expecting an answer, but didn’t get any. You blink and turn your head to look at him, he’s lost in thought it looks like. “Albedo?” and he blinks back to turn and look at you. “Yes?”

“I was asking if cream stew was okay,” there’s a slight crease of worry on your eyebrows, but his smile takes it away. “Yes, that’d be nice,” he simply says and for some odd reason, he doesn’t talk about his day today. It’d almost felt like a routine now, how he would tell you what he and Sucrose had been working on, or maybe if Klee barged in again today, or maybe even Kaeya.

He was a little too quiet, and you kept stealing glances at him.

Even as the two of you arrive home and close the door behind you, immediately going towards the kitchen, it was a little tense and you weren’t quite sure why. He had this...frown on his face, but he didn’t look angry. “...Is there something on your mind?” you ask as you start prepping the ingredients.

He visibly stiffens up and just stands there. At this point you know that something is wrong. “Did something happen? Did I say something wrong?” You question as you’re about to wipe your hands on a kitchen towel. He suddenly shakes his head, “No, not at all. I--”

and he starts his story as you put on an apron.

“Kaeya came by today...He says that...” his eyes dart away from you. “That I should consider...getting a ring,” You stop tying the apron around your middle and focus your attention on him. Eyes going a fraction wider. “But I... That is to say... If you would like a ring then I will gladly get you one, Y/N,” you’re not sure where this is going but your heart is starting to patter louder in your chest. “But I just don’t think it would change a thing. A ring is not enough to really tell you how much I...” he pauses and his eyes finally find yours. “How much I adore you. A band around my finger or your finger...can never represent the gratitude,” he emphasizes his next words “the comfort, the love that I have for you,”

It’s starting to feel like there’s an elephant in your throat, and you start to blink a little faster because you don’t want to cry. You just thought it’d be a little silly.

“I just... I hope you’re aware, ring or no ring... My intentions are the same. I don’t plan on spending the rest of my lifetime with anyone else,” you secretly bite your lip, “...It’ll only be you,” and he scratches the back of his neck, tearing his eyes away from you once again, mumbling--and it’s so rare to see him in such a vulnerable state-- “Kaeya mentioned that if I don’t get you a ring... that you might leave... I’m aware he’s not the most trustworthy but... I just... wanted to make sure,”

And despite the few small happy tears that finally cascade down your cheeks you laugh a little, picturing the mischievous glint in Kaeya’s eyes as he tells this to Albedo.

Albedo smiles a little and brushes the few tears that managed to slip out, but you reply to him. “You know how Kaeya is, Bedo,” which translates to ‘don’t listen to him,’. Albedo knows. But when it came to you he wasn’t going to take chances. You contentedly wrap your arms around his middle and he hugs you back around your shoulders as he whispers into your hair. “But you know... Perhaps I should get you a ring, when the time comes,”

“Hm?” You merely murmur, asking about his sudden change in opinion.

“Just to let others know you’re taken,”

Another rumble of laughter lifts from your chest. This time, he joins you.

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#albedo x reader #albedo #genshin impact #genshin #albedo angst #albedo fluff #breaking up part 3 #primofate

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 2 years

Note

Frank Castle? Sign me tf up!!! Please could you write "Don't go on that date." "Why?" "You know why." "Say it." for my murder husband? Thank you!!

Thank you so much for the request anon! Even though I have a Frank fic queued up, this will be my first posted Frank piece! And I tried adding a little spin to the prompt, so I hope you like it!

Thanks to @babblydrabbly for the advice!

Alternate POV for this Drabble: Don’t Go On That Date (Alternate POV)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Frank leaned heavily against the wall as he watched you get dressed. He had managed to bite his tongue for this long, but as he watched you shimmy into your dress and try to zip it up, he reached his breaking point. “Don’t go on that date.”

You turned to him, confused. “Why?”

“You know why.” He grunted.

You took a few steps closer to him. “I want you to say it.”

“It’s not safe.”

You sighed. “Frank, we’ve talked about this. It’s just dinner. You’ll be right outside in the car and if anything happens, you can come to my rescue in seconds.”

“And what if that’s not fast enough? What if something happens before I can get to you?” His dark brown eyes bore into yours, silently pleading with you to reconsider your plan.

“That’s not going to happen.” You slid your arms around his waist. Without your heels, he had a good five or six inches on you, so you leaned your head into his chest. “You’re not going to let anyone hurt me. I know that. And besides, you taught me how to shoot and you taught me how to fight. I’ve got this, babe. If I can trick him into revealing even a fraction of what he knows, we’ll have enough evidence to shut down their whole organization by tomorrow. Legally. Isn’t that worth a little risk?”

“Not if that risk is you.” He brushed a stray piece of hair off your face. “I’ve lost every other person I’ve ever loved. I can’t lose you too.”

“And you won’t. Frank, I promise. I’ll be alright.” You hug him tighter as he returned your embrace, nearly doubling over as he folded his thick frame around you. You know he still blamed himself for what happened to his family, so even though it’s frustrating when he got overprotective like this, you completely understood where that fear was coming from.

When he finally released you, you turn your back to him. “We’re running late. Can you help zip me up the rest of the way? I can’t reach,” you said, gesturing to the zipper that was still a few inches from the top of your dress.

However, when Frank’s hand closed around the zipper he pulled it down, uncovering more of your back. His lips began lightly ghosting over the newly exposed skin, starting at your neck, and slowly trailing downward. Before you could object, his hands slid around to cup your breasts. A moan was dragged from your throat as your head fell back to rest on his shoulder. He continued to plant kisses all over your back as one hand began to slip lower–

“Stop!” You wrenched yourself away from his grasp, stumbling slightly as you tried to regain your composure. Turning to glare at him, you snapped, “I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work. I’m not missing this date. Now zip me up, we have to go.”

Reluctantly, Frank did what you ordered, though not without grumbling his objections once again. When he had finished, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Listen, it’ll all be over soon. Then I’m yours for the rest of the night.”

“Just tonight, huh?” He asked, raising one eyebrow.

You stood on your toes and placed a small kiss on his lips. “Tonight, and every night, for the rest of our lives.”

210 Prompt List

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Burnout

Pairing: Dream / Clay x gn!reader

Summary: Working nonstop leaves Clay officially exhausted. Too bad he doesn’t know when to call it quits. Luckily for him, you do.

Warnings: depictions of anxiety + exhaustion + burnout

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: this was inspired by some of my own personal experiences. please get some rest if you need it. i hope you enjoy!

Clay awoke to the sound of meowing in his ear and a paw prodding at his cheek.

Letting out a small groan, he shifted, vaguely aware that his cheek was pressed against something cold. He reached up in front of his face, his fingertips meeting soft fur. He blinked an eye open, his hand rubbing at his bleary vision. Little by little, the fogginess slowly parted to reveal Patches’ olive green eyes peering back at him. The moment his gaze met hers, she meowed, swiping at his face again.

“Stop,” he croaked, surprising himself by how dry his mouth was. Almost immediately, Patches took a step back, meowing once more at him before hopping off the table and vanishing from his line of sight.

He raised a hand to his throat, swallowing uncomfortably. Slowly, he lifted his head from the desk, taking in the sight of his desk set-up. While his monitor was dark, it was his laptop that was lighting up the cluttered mess that had become his studio. Off to his right sat his green water bottle.

Right. His water bottle had been empty for—

His eyes darted to the clock, squinting. The numbers 1:47 AM flashed back at him.

—six hours.

When did I knock out? he wondered to himself, rubbing at his temples. Two hours ago? He shook his head. Well, doesn’t matter, now. Gotta finish the new plug-in.

He reached over, nudging his mouse with his elbow. The moment his cursor moved, his monitor came to life, light flooding the dimness of his room. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the glaring brightness of the screen with the back of his hand.

His code was still open, the line having cut off in the middle, the open bracket hanging wide, waiting to be completed and closed.

He grimaced, the gears already whirring in his head as he stared at the ticking clock on his screen. He needed to have the plug-in coded by tomorrow—or, well, today—so he could send it off to George for their scheduled test run. Not to mention the video he was only halfway finished editing he wanted to upload in two days’ time.

He dragged a hand over his face, a low groan rumbling in his chest. Just then, there was another low growl, this time coming from his stomach. He glanced downward at his hoodie pocket, something sharp digging at his insides.

Well, first, it seemed like he would need some food.

He pushed back his chair and pushed himself onto his feet, wincing at the way his muscles ached. They were definitely sore from not having been used in god knows how long, now. With another sigh, he turned, pushing the door open to his studio before climbing the stairs.

It only took a few moments for him to find the kitchen. He fumbled with the light switch for a second before the room was suddenly flooded with light. He winced, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Oh god,” he muttered, his throat feeling raw, “it’s so bright.”

A few seconds later, he peeked through his fingers and lowered his hand, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. As soon as he could see clearly once more, he dragged himself over to the cabinet, pulling the door open to peer inside. Empty space stared back at him, and he frowned. We forgot to go grocery shopping.

A snack-size bag of chips and two cups of instant ramen stared back at him, almost tauntingly. After staring for another moment, he found himself pulling out one of the two cups, eyeing it dubiously before shrugging. It’ll do. Flipping open the kettle, he quickly filled it with some water before setting it to boil. As he waited, he grabbed a pair of chopsticks and tore open the cup cover, fishing out the flavour packet and tearing it open with his teeth. Just as he was pouring the flavour powder in, he heard a voice behind him.

“Clay?”

He froze, then felt something in his chest soften. He turned, mustering what energy he had to send you a smile. “Hi, [Y/N].” At the sight of your bleary eyes, his smile drooped. “You’re still awake?”

You yawned, holding a hand over your mouth. “Mhm. Hungry. I’m just grabbing a snack, that’s all.”

Behind him, the kettle whistled. He quickly removed the top, then turned back to send you a knowing look. “Me too.”

You strolled over to the cabinet he had looked through earlier, frowning as you let out a sigh. “I’ll go grocery shopping this weekend,” you murmured, reaching for the chips. “Anything you want?”

He cast a glance at the chips in your hand. “More chips?” he offered softly. “I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it.”

You bobbed your head and pulled the bag open, immediately sticking a chip in your mouth. Clay let the sound of chips crunching fill the air as he poured the boiling water into his noodle cup, stirring absentmindedly as you quickly finished the bag. After a few moments, he eagerly raised his chopsticks to his lips, a whirlwind of flavour filling his mouth. The noodles didn’t particularly help with the dryness of his mouth or his tiredness, but at least he wasn’t hungry anymore.

The two of you ate in silence for a while. At one point, you finished the chips and threw out the bag, but he wasn’t quite paying attention. He felt his toes curl beneath him as he shifted in an effort to keep himself awake, but he could still feel the exhaustion pulling at his ankles. He wished he was asleep, he really did.

Just then, you spoke up. “Are you okay?”

He blinked, snapping out of his tired daze. “Yeah,” he mumbled in between chews. “I’m just a bit tired.”

You pursed your lips, leaning back against the counter as you eyed him up and down. “You look more than just ‘a bit tired’, Clay.”

He swallowed, averting his gaze from yours as he focused on shoveling more noodles in his mouth. His eyelids burned, weighed down by bricks made of exhaustion. “You think so?”

You didn’t answer, only staring at him for a few moments longer as he finished the cup of ramen. He didn’t even have the strength to think about the tension pervading the air. As soon as he was finished, he set the cup down, ignoring how heavy his arm felt. He felt your eyes on his as he rinsed out the empty container before tossing it in the recycling bin. He turned, your gaze locking onto his. Irritation prickled up his spine at your expression.

“What?” he said, his tone coming out harsher than he intended. A flicker of guilt ran through him, but it quickly dissolved into weariness once more. Whatever. He was tired. It didn’t matter. Right?

To his surprise, you didn’t flinch like he thought you would. Instead, you took a small step toward him, your hand reaching up and forward tentatively. Your fingers brushed against his cheekbone, and the moment your palm met his skin, he nearly melted into your touch. How long had it been since his shoulders felt so loose? He couldn’t recall.

“Clay,” you murmured, your thumb brushing over his cheek, “will you come to bed with me?”

His breath hitched. Sleeping? Now? He couldn’t afford it—even a single lick of sleep would throw him off entirely. He needed to finish his code and finish editing that video for the day after. He couldn’t just sleep, now.

He sent you a smile, hoping it didn’t look as sad as it felt. “Sorry, love, but I have a bit more work I have left to do.”

You blinked, your lips curling downward. Your frown bit into him harder than he would have liked. Slowly, you pulled your hand back from his cheek, something disappointing flashing in your gaze. “Okay,” you said quietly, turning to walk out of the kitchen. “Please go to sleep soon, though, alright?”

He nodded, but the action didn’t fully register in his head as he watched you disappear from his line of sight. Already, he missed your warmth against his face, and he had half the mind to change his mind and go to bed with you right then and there.

But the deadline hanging over his head wrapped a fraction tighter around his throat, whispering into his ear like a menace. “You don’t have time.”

Indeed, he didn’t.

Shutting the kitchen lights off, he slipped back down the stairs once more, striding back into his studio. He collapsed into his chair with a grunt, shaking his mouse as his monitor came back to life. He cracked his knuckles once before settling his hands back on the keyboard, focusing his attention back on the open bracket once more.

He wasn’t sure how much time he spent typing, opening and closing Google as he ran into bug after bug. The longer he stared at the screen, the more his brain felt like it was slowly getting the life sucked out of it. He had only completed another dozen lines of code or two when something tore him out of his focus.

“Clay.”

His thoughts came to a jarring halt in his head. He turned, spotting you leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. A concerned expression was plastered to your face, and he nearly fell out of his chair. “[Y/N]? Why are you still up?” His eyebrows knit together. “I thought you went to bed.”

“I sent George a text,” you said abruptly, your eyes scanning his face with a wary look, “and he said he doesn’t mind doing the test run another day.”

Clay’s mouth fell open, a wave of shock rolling over him. You... what? Swallowing, he closed it, shaking his head slightly. Just because he didn’t need to finish the code didn’t mean he still didn’t have any work to do. “I still have to finish the video—”

“You can finish that another day, too,” you suddenly said, your eyes not leaving his. He saw your fingers curl into your pyjamas. “You know your fans will love it no matter when it comes out.”

Something welled up inside of him, something hard and cold that dug straight through his bones. “B-But...”

You simply tilted your head at him, a weary look crossing your face. “But what, Clay? Is there anything else?”

He paused for a moment, a pebble of shame dropping into his stomach as he shook his head. “No,” he admitted quietly. His heart burned uncomfortably between his lungs. “But I could always get a head start on—“

“Clay,” you said sharply, not missing the way he jumped, “don’t you see what you’re doing to yourself?” You lowered your arms and your voice grew quiet, something pained flitting across your features. “This is killing you.”

He stared at you, the light of his monitor making your face glow in the dimness of his studio. As much as he tried, he couldn’t think of another rational justification for staying up. He had no other immediate tasks, no other projects he needed to work on in this moment. He had no reason to stay awake any longer.

And yet, deep down, something anxious and angry thrashed in his gut. Sleeping now just felt wrong. It was almost as though it was a crime, as though he would somehow fail if he didn’t keep working. After all, if he didn’t keep working, then what kind of creator was he?

But the longer he stared at you, taking in the sight of your pleading eyes and worried frown, he felt something else overtake him entirely. A different kind of sinking feeling settled over his shoulders, and he swallowed.

“[Y/N],” he said honestly, suddenly feeling vulnerable and very, very sad, “I’m tired.”

Your gaze softened, and he almost wanted to cry. “I know,” you said, soft and sincere.

With quiet steps, you made your way over to him, stopping just in front of him. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against your stomach as he let out a shaky breath. You didn’t move, simply raising a hand to pat his head. For a few moments, he simply leaned against you, feeling his eyes sting and burn with a mixture of fatigue and sadness. Was he really that tired?

“You put too much responsibility on your own shoulders, Clay,” you murmured, your hand leaving his head. “You’re allowed to be your own person. You’re allowed to spend time to yourself. You’re allowed to take care of yourself—you need to.”

You pulled back slightly, and he raised his head. His lungs felt like they had tied themselves into a knot in his chest, but the moment his eyes met yours, he could suddenly breathe clearly again.

“Please,” you said, “come to bed with me.”

He blinked. Then, he nodded. “Okay.”

He didn’t miss the smile that stretched across your face as you reached over to save his code, turning off his monitor. As soon as the studio filled with darkness, you slipped your hand into his, tugging him out of his chair and up the stairs. He didn’t remember walking into the bathroom, but you were suddenly shoving his toothbrush in his hand.

“I’ll wait for you in our room,” you said, “okay?”

He nodded again, still too dazed to fully comprehend anything. He only half remembered brushing his teeth, spitting out the toothpaste as he rinsed out his mouth in the sink. Before he knew it, he was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, his eyelids already drooping. You were sitting on the bed, your legs curled beneath you and the blankets pulled back for him.

The moment he stepped inside, you lifted your chin, tilting your head at him. “You done?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but cut himself off with a yawn. Wiping at his blurring vision, he nodded. “Mhm.”

The pleased grin you sent him made his heart swell with affection. “Perfect.” You patted the space in front of you. “C’mere.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, he walked forward and climbed onto the bed, settling his head back against the pillow as you pulled the sheets up over him. After a few seconds of shifting, he finally settled down, his shoulders sagging as he let the tightness seep out of his body and into the bed.

“Comfy?” you asked softly, your voice washing over him like a soothing melody.

He shifted his head slightly, his legs curling further into the warm blankets. “Very.”

He could only imagine the soft smile on your face, a fond look filling your eyes. “When’s the last time you slept before four o’clock?”

He thought for a moment. If he had the energy, he would have shrugged. “Can’t remember. Must have been a month ago, or something.”

He could hear the frown in your voice. “That’s not healthy, Clay.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, feeling his lips curl slightly. “Probably.”

There was a slight pause, then he felt your hand in his hair. In an instant, he had melted into putty on the mattress, tilting his head slightly toward you. “You can only run on sheer passion for so long,” you murmured, dragging your fingers through his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. “People need rest. And good food. And warm hugs. And love.”

He blinked, slow and lazy. “Love?” he repeated.

You hummed. “Yeah.” Dipping your head, you pressed a kiss beside his ear, whispering, “Lots and lots of love.”

He nodded ever so subtly, his head sinking further and further into his pillow. “Love,” he whispered back, caught in a dreamlike haze.

Your fingers scratched against his scalp, and he let out a tiny sigh. “You still with me?”

“Mm,” he mumbled, “not really.”

Your hand stilled for a moment, then carried on. “Good. Go to sleep, Clay.” He could hear the soft smile in your voice. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He said something back, or at least he thought he did, but he had drifted too far to care at that point.

This was nice. He missed this.

That night, Clay fell asleep with your hands in his hair and a smile on his face—feeling warm, safe, and oh-so loved.

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

request for jack grealish one where he’s really upset over something and you’re there with him to comfort him, lots of physical contact being his love language and you being the only person he likes touching his hair ?

Comfort

You knew from the very second he walked through the door that annoyed would be an incredibly generous word to describe the emotions running through the Brummie boys head. You grimace to yourself, shoulder raising closer to your ears at the sound of the brand new front door slamming heavily behind him with a curse at the fact he couldn't get his shoes kicked off just right the first time he attempted it in the foyer.

The first game was a loss and just about all he'd gotten for the past few days was hate, stress, hate and some more fucking stress. He was exhausted. From Mykonos to Birmingham to get a bag full of clothes so he could meet Villa in London before eventually travelling to Manchester, his sleep schedule has been completely messed up and even when he did have bursts of time where he should have been sleeping, he had been laying awake scrolling through countless tweets criticising his every single move. Add to that the fact his body was exhausted from international duty and that he had wanted nothing more than to curl up by your side and let his worries melt away like he had last gotten to do nearly three whole months ago.

He doesn't know you're here. To the very best of Jack's knowledge, you were still home in Birmingham and he would probably have to broach the conversation of whether or not you'll be joining him up anytime soon, if ever. He lets out a frustrated grunt, but you know Jack better than anyone else and there's the thick sheen of his heart aching tears existing beneath his frustration.

"Hey baby."

His head snaps around to land his eyes on you the second your sweet voice meets his buzzing ears. The echos of Etihad still burn a bit of his hearing away for now, but he knows it'll return to normal by the end of the night. The tears that had previously been kept on his lash line, pushed back by his will not to breakdown for fear he might not be able to stop if he starts are now past the last line of defence, streaming over his cheeks as he crossed the floor at a pace that would send his fife rating into surefire question.

Your body makes an involuntary 'oof' as he crashes against you, his arms so tight around your body as he stops you from stumbling back with the force of his incoming hug. You don't think he's ever actually held you that tightly before, never with such dire necessity, with such urgency for you to be as close to him as he could get you.

The hair that's been allowed to fall loose from the band he'd earlier had it tied back in tickles the back of your neck as it dangles over the exposed skin. He mumbles something almost incoherent about how much he's missed you into your neck, pepping chaste kisses where his lips have landed against you in this hug. You wished you could enjoy that, but the dampening that has begun to occur over the shoulder that his head is above reminds you of the pain he must be in.

Leaving your childhood club is one thing, but leaving it when everybody else seems to think he's a monster for it is a whole different kind of agony. There were just too many emotions for people to see the kind of things Jack had given for the club and the huge opportunity he had left them with his legacy and with the money they copped for his record breaking sale.

"It's okay, Jacky." You coo, tightening your arms around you as he attempts one tighter squeeze to force the tears back into him. It's a futile attempt, his arms loosening but never dropping away from you as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets those sobs shake his body. "I got you, baby. I've got you."

There was such a mix of emotions running through him that made him feel like the world had just pushed him to the ground and taken the perfect opportunity to give his body a good kicking. First final for England in 55 years, then they lost in a penalty shootout he didn't even get to be a part of after a game he barely got to play in. Then a holiday he couldn't take with you because of work commitments and a sudden coworker needed sooner maternity leave meaning your holiday was completely eliminated. As if those things didn't dampen his spirit, all that transfer business had gone down and it was finally all hitting him.

His exhaustion had caught up, an inevitable burn out that could be messed only by the presence of you in his life. Some of this tears that stream down his cheeks and pool on the grey material of your t-shirt are ones of joy and relief for finally having you back in his arms again for the first time in far too long of a time. Jack vows he will never ever spend that amount of time without you again. Never will he let so much time pass before he gets to hold you, kiss you and tell you face to face how much he truly loves every single thing about you.

"You're my rockstar, you know." You announce, seemingly out of the blue ones his body wracking sobs had died to smaller sniffled and period tears streaking down onto you. "I've literally never been prouder of anyone in my life ever. Not only did you fucking smash the euros, but then you stayed so sweet and so amicable during such a difficult process. You handled everything so well, J. I'm so proud or you and I'm so, so happy for you." You promise, pushing him back so you can take his blotchy, tear streaked face in your head. The expanse of that face is coved in your kisses, pecked all over the surface until he's giggling like the Jack that you know so well, his laugh the most contagious sound you've ever been lucky enough to get to hear on a daily basis. "And I'm so lucky that you let me share this journey with you." You finish, landing your lips softly and perfectly onto his with a warmth and love he had been desperately missing out on for those last vital few weeks of his break.

"S' our journey," Jack mumbles in response against your lips, pulling back every so slightly so he can get a proper good look at the face he had missed so much in person. Your cute quirked eyebrows and confusion tainted eyes make him smile before he elaborates. "Not my journey, it's our journey together. All of this, just the two of us."

His words make your heart sore, flying up onto the space above you in pure glee. You had to admit there was a mild element of fear wondering if he would want you here or if he'd maybe be wanting fresh start, but that was certainly not the case for Jack.

"I love you," he says as you feel him tuck you right back into his chest with a content hum. "I love you too, but you need a wash."

Jack's laughter bellows loudly from his chest beneath your ear at your lightly playful and yet very truthful statement.

"I ran you a bubble bath for you. Bathroom's huuuuge." Your eyes are full of wonder like he thought they might be when he would get the opportunity to bring you out to his temporary Manchester abode. This is you would both stay until he could find a house to place some money down on so he can truly start to settle out the fact he's going to have the next six years of his life here in this area with this club. It makes him more than happy, being here. But something that tickles him in thought as he follows you up the stairs is that he'll get to experience all of this newness with you. You’ll get to explore the new area together, find nee places, making it home together. You had both known Soulihull like the back of your hand, now you could find new places to just be together. He can go house hunting with you. He'll let you drag him through the houses he probably wouldn't otherwise look so much into, talking about what room could be which and silly little things he wouldn't even have noticed.

He could pick a house with you that would have enough room to start a family in together within the next year or so, like you had been hoping to do depending on what the club and transfer season had brought. This brought stability, a team that would function well without a reliance on him if there were some things he had to sit out in order to build this family.

It had been, unbeknownst to you, such a pivotal part of discussions with the Manchester City agents. Jack made it clear he was looking for stability and trophies. He had done so much for Villa and now it was time for him to invest energy in bigger fights with bigger clubs that don't face relegation so constantly. He made it clear to the managers also that the was looking to be in the business of starting a family sometime soon. He was welcomed with open arms still. A club who wanted him desperately and would probably have caved to many more demands from him, not having a fraction of an issue with negotiated paternity pay and leave.

He couldn't wait to find a house and settle down here with you for the foreseeable future, even if things didn't look exactly as he thought they might've looked when you first got together as merely young adults.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, eh?" You ask softly, running your fingers gently through his tangled and sweaty hair as he stands there in the middle of the large bathroom. Jack shrugs. There's so much in there today, not really like usual where he could sort through those thoughts and keep his head clear for every day and every game he faces.

"Just stressed," he huffs, allowing you to help him out of the brand new away strip he had been given at the beginning of the day today for his first first game with the new team.

His muscles are achy and tight, body still stiff from the cold that the rain had battered into his limbs as you easily hook off his boxers and tug them down his legs so he can step over the bathtub into the perfect temperature bubble filled water that makes him heave out a heavy sigh of relief the second it meets his skin.

"Talk to me, baby?"

And talk to you he did after he sat down in that bath with you.

He leaned back against you, allowing you to lather shampoo into the hair he trusted very few people with multiple times to massage the ache out of his skull from the previous days tension headaches. He talks about all those messages from so many unhappy people, some even City fans who didn't even want to entertain the idea of him being there. He talks about his worry of sitting on the bench season after season, telling you he was hoping to god those tweets wouldn't be further from the truth. He confided in you some of his greatest pains; the concept that he'd let his Villa teammates down and maybe even made his family unhappy despite the fact they had given him nothing but their full support and unsurprising pride just like everybody else in his immediate circle.

You massage muscle relaxing soap into all of the muscles in his body as he just talks, letting the weight of the world off of his shoulders to dissipate like the steam in the air from the bath. Only once he has everything off his chest and the waters gone cold do you both leave the bathroom, wrapped in towels then into pyjamas where he wraps you up in his arms like he's been desperate to do since the moment he touched off for International duty months ago, and he talks again.

This time, he talks to you instead of just talking out every worry and fear he's ever had.

Jack uses probably the most amount of words he's ever used in such sensible succession in order to paint you a perfect mental picture of a house just outside the city with a huge garden, fenced in for dogs and kids with a pool and enough room for all three of those future kids to have their own room, even though they'll share at first just for fun. He paints a picture of you at his games with two sons and a daughter, his name on each shirt along your back. The kids will call Foden uncle Phil and they’ll love him just like you both do. They'll get to play with the teams kids on the pitch after the games no matter how tired the guys are even if they've been thrashed in a loss. He depicts the kind of life you had both wanted for so long, somehow always deterred by something until right this moment, the time feeling like it had rolled perfectly into place for both of you.

And Jack tells you about how you'll poke fun at him when he starts to get those salt and pepper strands of hair and he'll love you no matter how you look. Your kids will learn what love is from their parents, they'll pick it up and they'll emulate it in their own lives sometime in the future. They'll stamp out hate with the hearts full of love that you will both allow those kids to grow into.

You both fall asleep together that night, wrapped in each others arms drifting off into dreams of kids that don't exist yet in a house you haven't even looked for with a future that each of you wants nothing more than to grab onto with both hands.

Jack's heart hurts for the changes he's made this week. He doubts the pain will ever fully leave him and he hopes that one day his club will welcome him back to end his career on a high note with them. However, until then the pain will be dulled by the prospect of his new future here.

One he can't wait to get stuck right into.

#jack grealish imagines #jack grealish imagine #jack grealish x reader #england national team #england national team imagine #football fics #footballer fics #footie fics

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monstersandmaw · 2 years

Text

Male werewolf (Rollo) x female character - Part Two (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere.

Here’s the third out of my batch of five commissions for you! I hope you enjoy it. It features my commissioner’s feisty girl Frost, and our gruff but sweet werewolf boy Rollo.

Contents: There’s a healthy dose of pining and idiots in love, with a bit of minor aggression from another party towards Frost, who handles it pretty easily, and some nsfw to finish, featuring knotting and claiming. Wordcount: 7048

Part One, in which they rescue a Lord Blackthorn’s prize stallion, and Frost makes a reluctant friend in doing so, can be found here (3rd person, sfw)

I had so much fun with this one, so thank you for letting me borrow your OC again, dear commissioner, who wished to remain anonymous again.

“How long will you be away this time?” Livia asked with surprising clarity of diction, given the choke-hold in which Frost currently had her. “Gods dammit!” she laughed, tapping out. “How do you always get me in a head-lock so quickly?”

Frost snorted, glanced up, smirked, and with a calculated shove, released the nobleman’s daughter, sending her reeling across the dusty yard. Livia screeched and windmilled her arms in a vain attempt to avoid planting face-first in the dirt, but her staggering fall was broken by the quick reactions and strong arms of the russet werewolf whom Frost had seen coming over, and Livia had not.

The blush on her friend and pupil’s cheeks was almost better than the way Levi’s ears swivelled back shyly and he set his employer’s daughter back on her feet with a mumbled apology and a dirty look at Frost.

Frost cackled unapologetically, and cracked the tension from her neck. Across the other side of the yard, a grey-pelted werewolf was watching her with steady, golden eyes, and as their gazes met, he smiled a fraction and shook his head slowly. Even from that distance, she could tell that Rollo was amused by her antics, and was also trying not to show it.

“Please try not to dump the lady in the dirt,” Levi said flatly.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Livia chuckled, patting her father’s guard on his huge bicep and making his tail wag inadvertently.

He stopped when he caught Frost’s eyes on it, and growled a fleeting warning to her as he stalked off to talk to his brother on the far side of the yard.

Oblivious, Livia turned to Frost and asked, “So? How long will this trip be? Your last job took you away for a month. Levi refused to help me with my training, and you said when you got back that I was worse than when we started!”

This time Frost’s playful mood softened and she folded her arms, cocking a hip. “You know I only said that to tease you, right? You’re doing fine, Livia. Better than fine. I mean, you won’t be joining me to protect Miriam’s shipment this time, but you’re stronger and fitter than you were when all you were doing was needlework and wistfully staring at Levi’s broad shoulders and chest…”

Livia yipped and lunged at Frost, clapping her hand over the other young woman’s mouth and glaring at her. “Shut up!” she laughed. “By the Gods, don’t embarrass me any more today, alright? You’ve already made him have to catch me, for goodness’ sake.”

“Well, you are quite the catch, darling,” Frost purred, and Livia rolled her eyes. “And he loved it. Why do you think he had to leave so suddenly.”

“To talk to Rollo?”

Frost raised an eyebrow.

“Stop deflecting,” Livia grumbled. “How long will you be gone?”

Frost shrugged. “It’s, what, a four day ride by horse and cart to Harrow Ridge?”

The young noblewoman gave a nod and started to brush down the smart riding trousers she wore whenever Frost was giving her a self-defence lesson.

“So just over a week then, at a guess. Miriam’s paying me enough to stay the night in town after we’ve delivered her lace shipment, so once the horses have rested, I’ll come straight home. It’ll be a piece of cake, and you’ll barely miss me.”

Livia grinned, and they headed inside the main house for some refreshments.

Of course, the best laid plans, and all that…

Rollo, in his usual werewolf form, had seen her off after walking with her in companionable silence to the drider’s lace workshop. Their friendship had been slowly developing since the successful return of Lord Blackthorn’s prize stallion, Silver Shadow, but Rollo was still gruff and silent most of the time. Of course, after their adventures together, Frost knew that he wasn’t being actively hostile — that was just how he was. There was a steadying pull to his silent presence, and she found almost any excuse just to be near him these days, even if he was as hard to read as he ever had been. Still, he hadn’t sent her away, so she supposed that was a good sign.

With the two valuable crates of lace securely fastened to the small cart, and the two mules harnessed and ready, Frost swung up onto the back to sit with the cargo, and grinned at the driver to set off. Dangling her legs over the edge like a child, she waved at Rollo before he nodded once and turned away, his storm-grey tail dragging through the dust as he headed back to Lord Blackthorn’s fancy townhouse, and she left Linden Corner for the wide open countryside and the market town beyond.

The driver didn’t say a word to her as they rumbled along the well-kept Queen’s Road to Harrow Ridge. Frost thought the small, wiry, taciturn faun was named ‘Sage’, but she had only met them once in all the weeks she’d been at the town, despite the fact that she’d been employed as an extra pair of hands by almost everyone at one point or another.

They had dyed their long, curly hair a pale, lichen-green, and the entire length of both cervine ears were pierced with a series of gold rings, with another through their septum, and they had the most startlingly dark green eyes Frost had ever seen, but what their voice sounded like, she hardly knew. After the four days it took to reach the bustling town though, she finally worked out that they were simply extremely shy, which manifested in an awkward exterior, and a solitary career as a wagon driver for the village.

None of that bothered Frost, and she left them to their own devices while they travelled, though she quietly hoped the space would let them adjust to her presence. The weather held, the bandits stayed away, and she spent most of the ride staring up at the open autumn sky above, with the rattle of harness, the rumble of wheels, and the soft snorts of the mules for company.

It was only once she reached the town that things went a little downhill.

Frost should have heard the footsteps coming up behind her, and she should have reacted sooner, but she and Sage had finally managed to have an actual conversation as they made their way from the adjoined stables round to the inn, and she was tired and distracted.

A gang of three surprised her and Sage, emerging from the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Two of them took Sage by the arms and dragged them back into the dark like a spider down a tunnel.

“Where’s that fat sack of coin we saw you pocket earlier then?” a third man growled as he grabbed her and looped his thick forearm around her neck.

A moment of blind panic shot through her before she made her body go limp and awkward and heavy until her boots hit the stone again, at which point she jabbed her elbow into his ribs and used her shoulder to flip the surprised and winded assailant over her shoulder onto the ground. He knocked himself out on the cobbles as he landed, and she sprang away, drawing her knives from her belt instead of her sword since the alley was narrow.

The scrap didn’t last long, and it ended with one of the thugs bleeding from a cut on the thigh, crying for his mother with Frost’s blade at his quivering throat, and the other trussed up in their own scarf. Sage darted away to fetch the City Watch, and before too long they were explaining what had happened to a Watch Captain in plate armour.

The centaur staring down at her with a stern expression nodded. She told her and Sage to be more careful, and then dragged the big man on the floor away by the scruff of his shirt, his back scraping on the flagstones of the street as she hauled him off to the clink with an orc and a minotaur handling the others.

“You alright?” she asked Sage as the pair stepped shakily into the inn, and the faun nodded shyly.

Word had apparently spread of the assault and of its outcome, because they were heralded as something akin to conquering heroes by the entire common room of the inn, much to Sage’s embarrassment and Frost’s amusement.

“You should hear about the time I had to rescue a harpy from three rampaging boars, with nothing but a pot of honey and a small zither…” she muttered to Sage as they collected their free drinks and headed for a table in the corner. Sage’s eyebrows sailed high, but they grinned, and Frost realised she had made another friend from Linden Corner.

It wasn’t until much later that the previously unseen bruise blossomed fully around Frost’s eye, and when she came down to breakfast the next morning, Sage gasped. She hadn’t known the wiry faun had it in them to fuss so spectacularly, but somehow they managed it. They didn’t let up until Frost informed them that she’d received far worse by accident from her rough-and-tumble, adoptive gnoll family.

Still, Sage did let her ride up beside them on the way home, and when Miriam insisted she keep a little more coin than they’d agreed on for the inconvenience of the black eye and split lip, Frost didn’t argue. “My money was well spent on you, clearly,” the older drider said in a motherly tone that reminded Frost of her own adoptive mother’s.

“Thank you,” she said, and pocketed the extra gold without further protestation.

With the extra coin to spend, she could have gone to the inn, but Lord Blackthorn had let her keep a cot above the stables, in the section of the hayloft next to Rollo’s room, and she fancied a quiet, private evening to herself. She went to wash up in the kitchens of the townhouse first though, praying she wouldn’t see Livia just yet and have to explain to her pupil how her self-defence teacher got surprised in an alleyway by three common footpads.

Combined with the contents of the small lock box under her bed, she also now had more money in her possession than she’d ever had in one go in her life, and thoughts of her family nagged at her.

“I’ve got to go back and see them,” she muttered to herself as she left the kitchen by the side door after her bath, wet hair plaited and dangling down her front, while dusk pooled in the corners of the courtyard beyond and torches were just beginning to be lit in the town beyond.

Her plans to be stealthy, naturally, were foiled when Rollo emerged from the stable block and stopped dead at the sight of her. As usual, he was in full shift, with his smoky grey fur rippling softly in the evening breezes. The little white highlights at the tips of his ears and the flashes of scarring over his muzzle and cheek were picked out like lines of lightning in the twilight. He stalked over like another of the shadows in the courtyard, looking relaxed and happy to see her again, but when he joined her, his lip curled and he growled, reaching for her face with his paw-like hand. His black claws pricked her skin and made it tingle.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Rollo,” she snorted, pulling her face back however reluctantly. “Don’t get your tail in a twist.”

“Who did this to you?” he growled. “Who hurt you?”

The protective rumble in his voice went right through her, but Frost had to laugh. She waved her hand dismissively at him and rolled her eyes. “Some losers in Harrow Ridge who thought they could help themselves to Miriam’s coin,” she said. “Don’t worry, they’re all in irons now, and I doubt they’ll get off lightly. Gods, you should have seen the muscles on the centaur who dragged them away after I wrapped them up for her like Yule gifts.” A slight exaggeration of events, but still; she’d won.

His soft growling filled the air again and looked up at him. The gruff wolf’s shoulders dropped and his growl turned into a pathetic little whine. “You're really alright?” he asked in a low rasp.

Taking pity on him, she stepped close and boldly put her hand on his cheek. “Yes,” she breathed, letting him nuzzle her palm. He closed his bright gold eyes and his tail swept once across the dirt behind him in a quiet, relieved movement.

“Good,” he rumbled. “That’s good.”

“You’re sweet to worry about me, Rollo.”

He stared at her for a long moment and went sad once more. “You’re not sticking around are you? You’re heading out again.”

She nodded. “Yeah. My family gave me everything when they took me in as a child, and I owe it to them to share my good luck with them,” she said, patting the coin purse on her belt.

Thoughtfully, he nodded. “I’ll go with you. I’ll have to clear it with his Lordship, but —”

“— no, Rollo. It’s fine. You could keep training Livia for me though.”

He raised his lip at that. “I’m not a nursemaid.”

“Good thing she’s not a child,” she fired back, laughing. “She doesn’t need to become the next leader of the Queensguard, Rollo. She just wants to feel like she’s not completely helpless. Plus, she wants to impress your brother a bit, and we all know he’s got a crush a mile wide on her. Help a pair of hopeless lovers out for me while I’m gone, would you?”

Something flashed in his eyes but he looked away before she could tell what it was. She thought he was going to argue more with her, but instead, he fell silent and subdued, nodded, and stalked off without a word, the tip of his tail dragging in the dirt of the stable yard.

She didn’t see him again before she left.

Lord Blackthorn lent her one of his rangy old mares from the stables for the journey, but Rollo was nowhere to be seen when she went to collect the horse. She rubbed Silver Shadow’s nose as she passed, leading the bay mare out towards the sunny courtyard, and the stallion whickered at her, hoping for an apple. “Sorry, you spoilt little brat,” she laughed at him. “Any treats I’ve got are for Moss here.”

Moss, the scrawny bay mare, swished her tail and pretended like she wasn’t the least bit interested in any apples Frost may have had, but by lunchtime, the mare was reluctantly eating out of her hand, and Frost had made another friend.

She spent a fortnight with her family, and definitely picked up a few more black eyes and bruises as she sparred and scrapped with her five brothers, though each blow dealt was accidental and was hardly serious.

“Tell me about him, this werewolf ‘friend’ of yours,” her adoptive mother smiled one evening as she raked her clawed fingers through Frost’s hair while her daughter rested her head on her scarred thigh and stared into the flickering campfire flames in front of them. Her mother’s ears were ragged from her years of fighting to maintain her territory, and her muzzle bore more bite marks than almost the rest of the clan put together, but it had never hardened her heart. She listened while Frost reluctantly spilled her growing feelings for Rollo, speaking of their adventure through the woods to rescue the stallion, and when her younger brother — sitting cross-legged nearby and whittling a new amulet — heard her tale, he flicked an ear and listened too.

She’d expected playful teasing from the gnolls about falling for a werewolf, but in the end, her family told her that if he was a good soul, then she should muster the courage to tell him how she felt. “If only it were that easy,” she muttered.

Two weeks later, she hopped back onto the rangy mare and prepared to head back to Linden Corner.

“Frosty, wait!” At the sound of her younger brother’s friendly yip, she rolled her eyes and turned in the saddle to look at him.

“I hate that name and you know it,” she groused but he just giggled and bared his teeth at her in a shy smile.

“I’ve got something for you,” he said, holding out a necklace in his paw. A delicately-carved, birchwood pendant dangled on a long leather cord, and as she leaned down to take it and turned it over in her fingers, she saw that it showed a pine tree with a stylised moon behind it. He’d carefully singed the wood black to make it stand out against the unmarred moon, and he’d found some green ink to dye the tree before sealing it and stringing it.

She turned it over and over, and then looked down at him from the horse’s back with blurred vision. “You’re really good you know?” she croaked, and his big, round ears swivelled back against his head and he wagged his stumpy tail.

“I wanted you to have it. To… To give to your werewolf,” he said shyly. “As a courting gift. Blessing from the family and all that…” he added in a mumble.

Frost choked softly and hopped down from the saddle, flinging her arms around his neck. “Love you, you big softie,” she said into his fluffy mane.

His arms closed around her and he held her tightly. “Love you too, sis,” he grinned. “Take care out there, alright?”

She nodded, mounted the horse for a second time, earning a soft snort and a flick of her tail in admonition, and with a final glance back over her shoulder to wave at her gathered family, she set out for Linden Corner again.

This time when she rode into the stable yard after a long journey, it was bustling with people.

Savi, the gnollish guard she’d first encountered on duty out the front of the house with Aster the enormous minotaur, let out a long, low whoop when she saw her, and it made something tug inside her at the family she’d just left behind. Rollo was nowhere to be seen, but his brother was training what looked like a new recruit in how to use a sword, and to her surprise, Livia stood beside him, following along with her own wooden practice sword.

“Those two finally figure things out?” she asked in a whisper as Savi joined her and took the mare’s reins from her.

Savi rolled her eyes and then giggled so loudly she had to clap her hand over her muzzle to shut herself up.

“Took them long enough,” Frost smiled.

Livia looked up halfway through one of the patterns and screeched with delight. Letting her practice sword fall to the earth with a clatter, she left the small class and raced over. She slammed into Frost, nearly knocking her over and ignoring Levi’s yelled ‘oi!’ to get her to come back. “We missed you!” she said, pulling back. “Welcome home.”

“I hear you had something to take your mind off my absence though,” she snorted pointedly, and Livia blushed a deep crimson as she shot Levi a look over her shoulder. His gaze was very deliberately not directed at her.

“How can you have heard already?”

Frost nodded at Savi’s retreating back as the gnoll led Moss away to the stables for her.

“She’s probably still annoyed that she didn’t win the betting pool on which one of us would make a move first. Well, I suppose she’s still in with a chance to win the one on you and Rollo, but —” her eyes went wide and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my goodness, I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that!”

Frost halted. “Does Rollo know about it?” she asked first. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d take something like that too well.”

“Don’t think so,” Livia said.

Levi came up behind her a moment later and casually put his hands on Livia’s shoulders. She leaned into him and Frost grinned. “Welcome back, Frost,” he said, and the conversation slid away from bets and wagers. “How was your family?”

“Well, thank you,” she smiled, looking around the yard and finding the absence of a certain dark grey werewolf disconcerting. “Your brother around?”

“He’s moping in the hayloft,” Levi grinned. “If you head up now, you might catch him before he goes for his usual evening run. He’s been going further and further each time.”

There was a note to the older werewolf’s voice that sent a quiet chill through her. “Levi, is he alright?”

Levi huffed a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. He’s been moping around since you left; trying to tell himself he’s not worried about you out there in the world, all on your own…”

Frost rolled her eyes. “I arrived at this town on my own. How does he think I got here?”

“Not through your nice manners and pretty needlework,” Livia grinned and Frost lunged for her.

To her pleasant surprise, Livia fought back well, though she was quickly overwhelmed. Right before she yielded though, Levi grabbed frost by the belt and yanked her back like a pup by the scruff of her neck. “Go find my brother and pull him out of his funk, and leave Livia alone.”

With a playful scowl, Frost nodded, but ducked into the stables first to check that Moss had been made comfortable. Savi was rubbing her nose and the mare was tolerating it politely. “Ah, you love it really, girl,” Frost grinned at the mare, who tossed her head but certainly didn’t object to the continuing attention.

By contrast, Silver Shadow whickered warmly at her as Frost passed his stall, and she paused to scratch him between the eyes the way he liked. “Good boy,” she smiled, kissing his velvety muzzle. “I’ll see you later. Got other hellos to make first.”

The smooth rungs of the wooden ladder up to the hayloft felt familiar under her hands as she climbed, but instead of turning left to her own, small, partitioned-off section, she went right and knocked on the rustic door. The wall was hardly more than a series of vertical planks nailed to the beams above and the floor below, but it afforded a hint of privacy, and it was warm enough for a werewolf up here. Come full winter, she’d need more insulation, but for now, it was fine.

“Rollo?” she called and pushed the door open.

Curled on his bed, fast asleep with his nose under his tail, was Rollo. She drew up short, not ready at all for how sweet he looked, but she couldn’t help noticing the slant of his ears and the slight pinch to his brows. He didn’t look relaxed, even in sleep.

His right ear twitched and he jerked his head up with a snarl, lifting his lip until he saw who was standing there and, rather comedically, froze. “Frost?” he breathed, getting up and swinging his legs off the bed before pausing with his hands on either side of his thighs. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I… uh… I just arrived. Listen,” no point beating about the bush, “I’ve got something for you… From my family. Well, from me, but my little brother carved it. I…” and with that, she marched over to the bed and tugged the leather cord off over her head, thrusting it out to him. The pendant dangled at the end of it, swinging back and forth, and for a long moment, Rollo just stared at it.

Carefully, he took the warm pendant in clawed fingers that trembled slightly, and he turned it over to see the moon and pine tree.

“I told them all about rescuing Silver Shadow from those bandits,” she mumbled, cheeks heating with awkward embarrassment. “I think it inspired him.”

It became apparent that he couldn’t wear it when he was a werewolf — the continuous length of cord wouldn’t fit over his head, let alone around his neck — so he nosed it once and then hung it reverently over the wooden post of his bed frame. “I’ll wear it when I’m human,” he said, though that was as rare as a blue moon, “And it can live there while I’m a wolf.”

She smiled. “Glad you like it. Listen, I should… I should go. I… I need to grab my things from Moss’ stall. I left my saddlebags with her stuff, and I should clean the tack, and I need a bath because I’ve been on the road for days and I literally slept in a bush last night, so… yeah. Anyway.”

“I’m glad you’re back safely,” he said once she’d stopped herself rambling, with his steady gaze locked on her face. “I’m glad you came back.”

From the doorway, she paused and looked at him. He’d actually doubted that she would return at all, she realised with a sudden crushing sensation in her chest. “Yeah,” she said, voice unexpectedly rough. “Me too.”

Three days later, her frustration with herself for not coming out with her true feelings for Rollo started to get the better of her.

She snapped at Levi when he quipped in passing that she had been going easy on Livia’s training. “Alright then, tough-nuts,” she snarled, balling her fists and bristling. “Come on.”

He’d agreed to spar with her readily enough, but when she started to get too serious, his ears flattened and his eyes sharpened. His claws dug into the dirt of the stable yard and he had her on her back, winded, in under a minute.

“Again!” she called, shoving herself upright and raising her fists. “Come on, Levi. Stop holding back.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re done, Frost. Go clean up.”

“What? Afraid I’ll make you eat a muzzle full of dirt this time?”

He rolled his eyes and darted at her, grabbing her around the middle and depositing her inelegantly onto her backside again. She sprang back to her feet immediately and swung wildly at him with a fist and a yell. This only gave him ample opportunity to grab her by her punching arm and simply tug her off her feet, using her own momentum against her. She fell face-first into the dirt with a disgruntled, bitten-off screech, but she knew she was bested.

With another inarticulate snarl, she got up and slouched off across the yard, pausing by the water pump to clean herself up. She took a deep breath and then meandered more calmly into the stables to find Silver Shadow looking at her quizzically from his stall. He whickered gently, and she softened, heading over. He exhaled his warm, hay-sweet breath over her palms and then nodded his head when she moved up to stroke the whorl between his eyes, lifting his silvery forelock to one side.

“I’m an idiot, Shadow,” she sighed.

They stayed there a long time before he twitched back, ears flat, and eyes rolling. He gnashed his teeth and nickered a warning, and Frost laughed quietly. “There’s only one person he hates that much,” she said, turning to find Rollo standing well out of range of the stallion’s pincer-sharp teeth.

“Mmhmm,” he agreed. He wasn’t looking at the horse though. “You alright?”

Exasperated, she rolled her eyes, folded her arms, and turned to lean her backside against the stable door, using Shadow for cover to keep Rollo out of range. Coward, she scolded herself. “Yeah.”

Rollo’s wolfy brows rose and she made another grunt of disgust. “Fine. Levi wouldn’t spar with me properly. I needed to blow off some steam, he was holding back, I goaded him into going more full-on, and he just tipped me into the dust. I got exactly what I deserved, but I just… I was annoyed with him for going easy on me to start with.”

“You do realise how strong a shifted werewolf is, don’t you?”

“I grew up with a whole clan of gnolls, Rollo. I’m not an idiot.”

“And yet you goaded a werewolf in full shift to fight you?”

“Shut up,” she snorted, unable to stop the good-natured laughter creeping into her voice.

Rollo moved a pace closer, but Shadow wasn’t having any of it. The stallion lunged over the stable door at him, teeth bared and snapping, and Rollo snarled right back at him.

“Stop it, both of you,” she said, stepping forwards and grabbing Rollo by the arm to pull him out of the stables. Over her shoulder, she pointed her finger at Shadow and said, “That was rude. No more treats for you.”

The horse looked unrepentant and glared at Rollo.

“C’mon,” Rollo chuckled. “Walk with me?”

However much of a mess she was feeling, emotionally, she was unwilling to pass up the chance to spend time alone with Rollo, so she nodded and they headed through the back of the stable yard and out into a small copse that bordered the fields where the horses would be turned out during the day. Almost all the fiery autumn leaves had been whisked away by the strengthening winter winds, and the branches stood starkly against the deep blue of the evening sky like delicate, black lacework.

“I know…” Rollo began uncertainly as they wound leisurely down a path between the trees, “…I know you don’t seem to set much stock in your own wellbeing…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she laughed.

He shrugged. “You’re not afraid of anything, it seems,” he said. His tone was somewhere between awestruck and anguished. “But you…” he sighed heavily and stopped walking. “Frost, it scared the shit out of me when you came back with that black eye.”

“Rollo, it was just a bruise. You should have seen the other guy!”

“What if he’d had a knife? What if —”

“Then I would have changed my fighting style. I’m not an idiot. I know how to handle myself.”

Rollo let out another rough exhale. “I know you do. I just…” He turned his smoky grey muzzle away. With his ears and tail down, and his hands clasped behind his back, he looked the picture of misery.

“Rollo?” she murmured, stepping close to him and touching the soft pelt on his chest. It drifted through her fingers like campfire smoke and she splayed them wide, enjoying the warmth radiating off him in the chilly evening. Rollo gave a low rumble and she looked up to find his eyes closed. “Rollo?”

“Frost, I’ve… I’ve grown… fond of you. I’m not good at expressing myself, but… I don’t think I could bear it if something happened to you, and seeing you hurt — even a little bit — it spooked me. Left me… shaken.” And with that, he did look at her again. Somehow, despite being much taller than her, he managed to look at her through his lashes, and her heart swooped.

“Rollo, what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying I care about you. A lot. More than I ever thought I would care for a human — for anyone. And the idea of something more serious happening to you… scares me. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

She slid her hand up through his fur to his face and cupped his jaw in her rough hand. Wolves obviously didn’t purr, but he rumbled something quiet and gentle and closed his eyes again, leaning into her touch like a cat all the same. He let out another shaky breath and didn’t open his eyes.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me, Rollo,” she said. “Savi’s going to have a field day. She’s got a betting pool on how long we’re going to keep dancing around each other or something.”

“You’re kidding?” he laughed, letting his eyes fall open and finding her face. “I’m going to have her running drills for a month for that.”

“I knew you’d hate it.”

“How come you knew about it and I didn't?” he chuckled, his shoulders dropping and the tension dissolving from his muscles.

Frost grinned gnollishly and Rollo just stared at her.

“You’re so fierce,” he whispered at last. “Gods, you’re so beautiful, and so fierce. Frost, I’d… I’d like to court you, but —”

She shook her head and his ears swivelled back so quickly she was surprised they didn’t fall off. “No, Rollo. I know what I want.” She paused, and stepped right up to him, gazing into his face while he stared down at her with his jaw slack with disbelief and his hands soft at his sides. “I want you.”

With that, he leaned down in a rush and scented her, rubbing his cheek against her neck and face with his soft fur, his hands going to her hips while he whimpered quietly and keened her name. “I’m yours,” he whispered, drawing back a little. “Come on,” he added, with an eye to the fading light and the way their breath fogged between them in the deepening dusk. “Let’s get back.”

He led her by the hand back to the grounds of the townhouse, and he followed her up the ladder and into his secluded part of the hayloft without a word. He closed the door behind them with a soft click and stared down at her, waiting like a hunter for a signal to move.

She smiled up at him and crossed to his bed, undoing her belt as she went and slowly turning back to look at him. “Gods, look at you. You’re gorgeous, Rollo,” she laughed as she stared at him. “You could be quite intimidating you know? Standing in the doorway all menacing like that…”

A long, low, rumbling growl rippled across the room from him and she grinned at him.

“Oh, I love that sound,” she smiled, eyes flashing. She lifted her top over her head, her long plait swinging down her back, and undid the simple bindings that held her chest during the day. Only after she began to unlace her green buckskin leggings and lever off her boots did Rollo move.

He dropped to all fours and paced across the bare floorboards to her, and as she let the very last of her smallclothes hit the ground, he took her hips in his hands and nosed between her legs. His tongue laved over her sex and she bucked, shivering. “Rollo,” she breathed, hardly daring to believe it was finally happening after all those months of looking and wondering and fantasising…

After tasting her again with the tip of his tongue just once more, Rollo reared up to his full height again, hands still on her hips.

For a long moment, he just stared at her, pupils blown huge, tongue just beginning to loll, shiny with drool as he started to pant, and she glanced down his body to see the red tip of his cock starting to show through the soft fur. “I want you,” he growled, still waiting for her cue.

“I’m yours,” she echoed back at him and he finally acted on it.

He began to scent mark her neck and collarbones and cheek again, first slowly and then with growing urgency until he was rocking his cock against her hips as well. Then he began to snarl and mouth at her neck, raking his teeth across her pulse and laving his tongue along her throat. She shuddered and went slack in his grip, letting him hold her up in his arms, her spine bending backwards like a willow towards the river.

Rollo couldn’t stop growling, the vibrations of it rumbling through her as he moved his cold nose and hot mouth to her breasts and began to curl his tongue around her budding nipples, finally taking them between his front teeth and tweaking her hard enough to make her jerk and gasp against him.

“Rollo, please…” she grunted. He still had hold of her hips, so she simply lifted her legs and latched them around his waist, just above his tail. At that, he snapped his teeth with a groan and laid her down on the bed behind her. She did not unclasp her legs from around him.

He locked his jaws right around her throat, pinning her in place for a moment. Her hands scrabbled at his chest as she gasped in pleasure, and Rollo loomed over her with his tail high behind, his hips still rocking against her. His slick, hot tip nudged against her entrance and she moaned, spreading her legs further for him. “Yes…”

“You’re so wet,” he grunted, pushing back and putting his palms on her thighs to stare openly at her. “So beautiful. Can I use my mouth on you?”

Mutely, she nodded, and nearly passed out at the sight of him disappearing between her legs and licking his tongue in a searing hot strip across her sensitive, wet folds, upper teeth resting on her mound. She felt almost devoured by him. Now, he took his time with her clit, working her into a shaking, shivering, begging mess until she arched her back and almost screamed his name in frustration. “Rollo please, I need… I need you… All of you.”

His lips lifted into a beautiful snarl, and then he finally — blissfully, tantalisingly — lined himself up with her. And then the bastard halted again. “Are you sure?”

“Gods yes,” she yowled. “Rollo, if I don’t have you inside me right now, I swear I’ll —”

He didn't give her the chance to finish that, sheathing himself inside her with a slow but unyielding thrust.

Frost had never felt so full, and she grabbed onto his shoulders, breathing hard while he let her adjust to the sheer size of him all the way inside her. “Alright?” he asked, his voice making him sound wrecked already. He was shaking all over from the effort of holding himself back.

“Yes,” she said, relaxing and looking up at him. “Gods yes…” she said with a smile when she met his eyes. “Look at you… I’m good. You can move. Please move?”

He laughed softly and then rocked his hips and she let out a long, broken mewl.

“Gods you’re so tight, Frost,” he said, leaning forward after a few long, deep strokes to brace his weight on his left hand and letting the other close around her exposed breast. His claws pricked her skin and she bucked, clenching around him until he growled again and didn’t stop. His teeth closed on her collarbone as he picked up his pace, drool sliding down his tongue and over her skin as he marked her, snarling his pleasure as he fucked into her over and over without releasing his jaws from her shoulder.

“Gods, Rollo,” she panted as he sped up, thrusting deep inside her with calculated force. “I’m close. I’m going to come.”

The werewolf didn’t have words any more, and she felt what was unmistakably his knot swelling inside her. He wasn’t able to pull all the way out any longer with each stroke, and he began to whine behind the continuous growling.

“Shh, I want it,” she crooned, stroking his fur and making him whimper and shake. “I want you to knot me. Gods that’s big,” she grunted. “You’re so big. You feel so good…. that feels so good. Your knot feels so good…” she babbled senselessly.

Heat crescendoed in her muscles as he swelled, her core tightening to a white hot furnace, and she began to lose track of herself as she bucked upwards into him, taking his knot as deep as she could. The bed rocked beneath them as he still tried to thrust, but he was tied to her now.

Without warning, his relentless rhythm faltered and he flung his head back, arching his spine and emptying himself into her with a howl that no one would ever let them live down. In that moment though, tied to him as he filled her, he then claimed her as his own with his cock buried inside her and his teeth around her neck, gripping her tightly without breaking the skin.

Her vision whited out as she came around his huge knot while he was still coming inside her, and he shook with the intense pleasure of it all until finally he collapsed on top of her, breathing hard. When she grunted, a little sore and almost mindlessly full, he rolled sideways and dragged her with him, holding her carefully.

He opened his eyes at last and his gaze drifted down to the marks he’d left all over her neck and shoulders. He looked horrified for a long moment until she laughed and brought her fingers weakly up to run them over the tender bruises.

“Yours,” she smiled dazedly up at him.

“Yours,” he mirrored, licking the tip of his tongue sweetly over them. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t plan to knot you… I haven’t… had one in a—”

She shook her head and kissed the tip of his scarred nose to silence him before she burrowed into the paler fur of his chest. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It was perfect. I won’t be able to walk properly for a week, but I don’t mind right now.”

With a soft, doting chuckle, he tugged her somehow even closer and cradled the back of her head with one paw-like hand. “I probably should have been in my human form for our first time,” he mused.

“When have I ever gone about things the easy way, Rollo?”

“True,” he said and nuzzled his nose into her hair. “Gods I love you.”

She squeezed his ribs until he wheezed, and then, just because she could and she was curious, she clenched her inner muscles around his over-sensitive knot and he whined, snapping his jaws in a gentle rebuke.

“You're courting trouble with that, Frost,” he growled without bite.

Naturally, she did it again.

___

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