#bug enemies

[techdriveplay]

A Short Guide to Helldivers 2

Welcome to the action-packed world of Helldivers 2, where the battle for democracy spans across hostile exoplanets teeming with alien threats. At first glance, Helldivers 2 might seem like your typical co-op shooter: drop into enemy territory, unleash havoc on alien foes, and extract before the peril overwhelms you. Yet, delve a bit deeper, and you’ll discover a complex game ripe with strategies,…

[accidentally-drank-paintwater]

@buggachat I like to imagine he made it himself 😌 (he’s not very crafty)

[rithmeres]

the inherent catholicism of the firearm or whatever

[awesomecooperlove]

THE ONLY WAY TO END STUPIDITY IS TO WAKE UP HUMANITY

🦟🦗🦟

[edsbug]

Adrenalin

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

summary: you and eddie are rivals in the street racing underworld. as you navigate the world of street racing, sparks fly not just on the track but between you both. (wc: 2466)

cw: 18+ NSFW, mdni! enemies to lovers, street racing, author knows nothing about cars, max makes a cameo, alcohol consumption, eddie smokes, reader gives eddie a handjob in his car, includes the ‘stare and drive’ scene from 2 fast 2 furious.

authors note: i binge watched every fast and furious film over the weekend and came up with this. english is not my first language. this is my first fic ever. pls be kind<3

The roar of engines fills the night air as you roll up to the street race, your car’s headlights slicing through the darkness. The scene ahead is a chaotic blend of neon lights, the murmur of excited voices, and the unmistakable smell of burning rubber. Cars of every make and model are lined up along the street, their drivers and crews preparing for the night’s events.

You slowly navigate through the crowd, your yellow Mustang drawing a few admiring glances and murmurs of recognition.

You pull up to the starting line, the engine purring beneath you. As you step out of your car, the crowd's eyes follow you. You’ve built a reputation here, known for your skill behind the wheel. This was your domain, the place where you felt the most alive. You stood by the hood of your car, giving the engine a final look over, when you heard the familiar sound of heavy metal blasting out of a cars stereo.

Eddie Munson, with his wild hair and even wilder reputation. He was known for his reckless driving and his ability to charm his way out of any trouble. You’d clashed more times than you could count, both on and off the track. To say there was bad blood between you was an understatement.

You glanced over at him now, his figure fully illuminated by the street lights. He was leaning against his jet black Camaro parked on the starting line, his eyes hidden behind aviator sunglasses despite the nocturnal hour. His long wavy hair was dancing slightly in the cool wind and his black leather jacket hugged his figure just right. He pushed off the car and walked over, each step echoing with confidence.

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him distract you. But deep down, you can't deny the thrill of his attention, the way his gaze lingers on you.

"Well, well, well," Eddie drawls with a smirk, standing in front of you now. "Look who decided to show up."

You roll your eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm not missing a chance to wipe that smirk off your face."

He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down your spine. "You know, I almost admire your confidence sweetheart. Almost."

You cross your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "Keep talking, Eddie. We'll see who's laughing when I cross that finish line first."

Eddie steps closer, his voice dropping to a murmur only you can hear. "You know, there's something kinda hot about how determined you are. Maybe I should let you win, just this once."

You feel a flush rising to your cheeks, but you refuse to let him see you flustered. "Don't do me any favors, Eddie. I can win on my own."

His eyes sparkle with amusement. "Feisty. I like that."

For a moment, the noise of the crowd fades, and it's just the two of you, standing toe to toe. There's an intensity in Eddie's gaze that makes your breath catch, a challenge and something else — something softer, more vulnerable.

Before you had a chance to retort, the announcer's voice boomed over the crowd, calling for the racers to get in their cars. You shot Eddie a glare before climbing into your car.

A girl with fiery red hair, a familiar face at these events and known only as Max, steps forward with a bandana in hand. With a swift motion, she raises it high, signaling the impending start. “On my count!” she shouts, her voice slicing through the midnight air. The crowd presses closer, the tension almost unbearable.

“Three, two, one…”

You and Eddie exchange one last look, the tension between you almost electric. No matter what happens tonight, one thing is certain: this race is about to change everything.

“Go!”

The bandana fell, and you both launched forward, leaving the rest of the pack in your wake. Your tires screeched in protest against the asphalt, the scenery now a blur of neon lights, a kaleidoscope of urban chaos. The Mustang’s engine roared as you shifted gears, the car responding to your every command. The crowd's cheers became distant, lost in the sheer focus of the race.

Eddie’s Camaro was right beside you, keeping pace with ease. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, his focus unwavering, his hands steady on the wheel. The first corner came up fast, and you both drifted through it, your cars dancing dangerously close.

These streets were your racetrack, a twisting, turning maze of asphalt and danger. You both knew every shortcut, every hazard. You pushed your throttle, the engine growling as you accelerated out of a turn, trying to gain the upper hand.

Eddie was relentless, his Camaro a shadow that refused to be shaken. He edged closer, trying to force you into a mistake. You could feel the pressure, but you welcomed it, the challenge only fueling you.

Eddie took the turn wide, trying to use his Camaro’s power to overtake you on the straightaway. You saw your opportunity and floored the gas, your Mustang surging forward, the gap widening ever so slightly.

As you approached the final stretch, the finish line in sight, you felt a surge of exhilaration. You were going to win. But Eddie wasn’t done yet. He pulled up beside you, his Camaro matching your speed. The finish line was seconds away, and it was going to be close.

With one last burst of speed, you pushed your Mustang to its absolute limit, the engine roaring in protest. You crossed the finish line a split second before Eddie, the crowd erupting. You jumped out of your car, excitement coursing through you.

Eddie pulled up beside you, his expression a mix of frustration and something that looked suspiciously like respect. He got out of his car and walked over, his dark eyes behind his aviators meeting yours.

"Not bad," he said, his voice softer than before.

You raised an eyebrow. "That's it? 'Not bad'? I just beat you."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah, you did. Fair and square."

For a moment, you stood there, the rivalry between you shifting, evolving into something else. The tension was still there, but now it was mingled with curiosity and an unexpected connection. As the crowd celebrated around you, you realized that this was just the beginning of a new race—one that had nothing to do with cars and everything to do with the two of you.

As days seamlessly turn into weeks, you find yourself at the races every night, pushing harder, racing faster. And there, like a shadow cast by the neon lights, is Eddie — ever present, a persistent thorn in your side.

One night, after a particularly grueling race that left your nerves frayed and your car in serious need of attention, Eddie finds you tinkering with the engine, frustration etched on your face. "Need a hand?" he offers, surprising you with his sincerity.

You glance up, ready to snap at him, but something in his expression makes you pause. There’s a softness to his brown eyes. Reluctantly, you nod. "Fine. Just don't expect me to thank you."

He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves revealing a canvas of tattoos. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart,” he replies, his smirk tinged with a hint of mischief, as if he relishes in the challenge of breaking through your walls.

He works on the engine, his hands moving with practiced ease as he explains the intricate mechanics. As you work side by side, a strange camaraderie develops. Eddies knowledge on cars is impressive, and against your better judgement, you find yourself drawn to his company. Beyond his tough façade as a racer lies an unexpected kindness that surfaces in fleeting moments.

One night, as you sit on the hood of your car, eyes on the distant city lights, Eddie joins you, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He hands you a beer. "You've got talent, you know," he says, voice slightly muffled around the cigarette. "Why do you race?"

You take a sip, contemplating how much to reveal. "I love the rush, the competition. It's where I feel alive."

Eddie takes a quick drag from the cigarette as his expression softens. "I get that”, he murmured. “There's this allure, you know? The rush, the risk. It's addictive."

You nod, a comfortable silence settling between you. The rivalry that once defined your relationship has matured into something more complex, delving into emotions not spoken yet keenly felt.

Suddenly Eddie turns to you, a mischievous look in his deep brown eyes. "How about we make a bet?"

You raise an eyebrow. "What kind of bet?"

"Next race. If you win, I take you out on a date. If I win, you take me out."

You can't help but laugh. "You're assuming I'd want to go on a date with you?”

He leans closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "Oh, you'll want to. Trust me."

Against your better judgment, you find yourself nodding. "Deal."

Eddie stomps the cigarette butt out on the pavement, a smirk playing on his lips as he saunters off into the distance.

The next race is intense, the stakes higher than ever. You push your Mustang to its limits, determined to beat Eddie and win the bet. But as you cross the finish line, neck and neck with him, it's clear that it's a tie.

Eddie laughs, pulling up beside you. "Looks like we both win, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that tugs at your lips. "Fine. One date."

Eddie's idea of a date is a late-night drive in his Camaro. He's cruising at a steady speed, the sound of the engine a low hum in the background. Eddie looks over at you in the passenger seat, almost admiring you.

You catch him staring. "You might want to keep your eyes on the road, playboy."

"You think we're gonna crash?" he asks, still staring.

You ponder, "I haven't decided yet".

Eddie upshifts to a higher gear and slams the throttle, the gravity pushing you both back in your seats. Eddie shifts his focus entirely to you, his eyes fixed on yours as he maintains the high speed. The road stretches ahead, but Eddie doesn’t lose eye contact with you, his expression confident and playful. Suddenly, Eddie expertly stops the car at a red light, never once looking away from you.

"Not bad. But you’re not gonna keep this up the whole way, are you?" you ask, playfully.

Eddie chuckles softly, a soft pink taking over his cheeks.

You arrive at a secluded overlook, where the city lights spread out below like a sea of stars. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the city, and the only sound is the gentle hum of the engine.

You steal a glance at Eddie, the streetlights casting shadows across his features, accentuating the rugged lines of his jaw and the intensity in his dark eyes. He's so close, his presence filling the small space between you, igniting a fire deep within you that you struggle to contain.

"This view...it's breathtaking", you say, softly.

"Yeah, it's not bad. But it's got nothing on the view in here," Eddie smirks, his gaze intensifying further.

And then your lips collide in a fierce, desperate kiss, a mix of passion and longing that leaves you breathless. Eddie's hands are everywhere, exploring every inch of your body with a feverish urgency that sends shivers down your spine.

As the kiss deepens, you straddle his lap. Your palm teasing him through the fabric of his jeans. Eddie groans into your mouth, his hands grabbing your hips.

You melt into him, your hands tangling in his long curly hair as you lose yourself in the moment, forgetting everything but the heat of his touch and the taste of his lips against yours. It's like nothing you've ever experienced before, a rush of adrenaline that threatens to consume you both.

And then, without warning, Eddie's hand slips beneath your shirt, his touch sending sparks flying across your skin. You gasp, your body arching into his as he trails kisses down your neck. You moan softly, the sound lost in the darkness as you give yourself over to him completely.

"God, you drive me crazy," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

With careful, deliberate movements, you begin to undo his belt and zipper. Your hand slips inside his jeans, fingers wrapping around him. "Good," you whisper, stroking him slowly. "Because you drive me crazy too."

Eddie lets out a low groan, his head falling back against the headrest. "That's it, baby," he rasps, his voice heavy with desire. "Just like that."

You respond with a seductive smile, your own need driving you to push him closer to the edge. "You like that, huh?" you tease, your voice a sultry whisper against his ear.

Eddie's grip on your hips tighten, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you continue to stroke him. "God, yes," he groans, his hips instinctively bucking against your hand.

You watch as his breathing becomes more erratic. His hand grabs your thigh, his fingers digging into the skin as he struggles to maintain control. The sight of him like this, completely at your mercy, sends a thrill through you.

"Eddie," you whisper, leaning in to press your lips against his neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his skin. "You look so good like this”.

He responds with a deep, guttural moan, his free hand coming up to cup your face.

"Don't stop," he pleads, his voice a strained whisper. "Please." His deep brown eyes stare into yours.

You increase the pace of your movements, your hand gliding up and down his length with more urgency. Eddie's breathing becomes more ragged, his body tensing as he gets closer to the edge. The way his body reacts to your touch only spurs you on.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, Eddie reaches his climax, his release hot and overwhelming. He clings to you, his body trembling with the aftershocks. You hold him through it, your hand slowing its movements, offering comfort as much as pleasure.

“You're incredible,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

You smile, resting your head against his shoulder. “So are you.”

In the quiet aftermath, with the engine still purring softly, Eddie holds you, his breath warm against your ear. “I never saw this coming,” he admits, his voice tinged with vulnerability and a hint of awe.

You smile against his shoulder, your fingers tracing the curve of his neck. "Neither did I," you confess, feeling the undeniable pull of something more exhilarating than any race you've ever won.

taglist: @waywardrose, @brystiniercorner

divider credit: @strangergraphics

[blazeball]

ultrabugs..................

my opinions are correct

v1

this one is fully based off looks. and well. of course the mosquito aspect too. they're beautifully blue and annoying quick bloodsucking things. v1 has the soul of a mosquito. lets move on

gabriel

look at this beautiful thing... when gabriel's soul entered the world it should have been a wasp. but god said No. Be the most fucked up angel. anyway i think all the angels are bald faced hornets. living in a big buzzing colony that viciously defends what they consider to be their territory. gabriel is the prettiest bald faced hornet though

minos

ORCHID MANTIS! beautiful. regal. has that kind of color scheme going on. i really feel like this explains itself. it was between this and a butterfly, which like, could have worked? but i feel like the mantis is more dignified. does that make sense?

sisyphus

VELVET ANT!!!!!!!! FUCK YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! one of the harshest stings of any insect. a wingless wasp. i feel like these things embody sisyphus' deadly drive. plus they're fuzzy. and red

v2

BIGGER! BADDER! FASTER! STRONGER! elephant mosquitos (larva) prey on OTHER mosquitos! v2 wishes it could eat v1 and be proven the best

ferryman

kicks a rock across the ground... is a water strider too basic a pick for them... its pretty fitting... okay fine they can be a giant water bug

kitr

weevil 192

[weirdmarioenemies]



Name: Bug Catcher

Debut: Pokemon Red/Green

Hi Everyone :3 Mod Cat Flopter here. We’re continuing to make our way through the Pokedex with Pokemon #2: Bug Catcher!

Now, strangely, Youngster is not Pokemon #1. We’ll get back to Pokemon #1 later. My mistake! We really should have started with Bug Catcher! These classic bug types have not appeared in a national dex since Gen 4. Brilliant Diamond and Shining Pearl might be the last time they appear! Wouldn’t that be such a sad end?

Bug Catcher is anearly route bug type Pokemon that first appears in Viridian Forest, with common moves being Caterpie, Weedle, Kakuna, and Metapod! This is basically the most classic Bug Catcher moveset. Particularly high level Bug Catchers will also use moves like Butterfree, Beedrill, and Venonat. Bug catcher is often seen with a white shirt and net, with blues that highlight it.

Gen 2 actually solidifies this aesthetic, using the new power of the Gamegirl Colour to give him a blue stripe on his hat.

In this generation, their move pool expands, gaining some existing moves like Venomoth and Paras, but also new moves like Araidos and Pinsir!

Moving on, Gen 3 is actually an interesting case, since Hoenn has the first regional evolution of a Pokemon. The Bug Maniac!

Bug Maniacs have the Bug Catcher aesthetic on lock, with their nice blue dress shirts and blue rimmed nets but yellow khaki hats and pants as well as white socks and net. The gleam in their glasses is similar to bug eyes, which is a nice touch, and they of course use more powerful moves. As we all know, autistic little boys get more powerful when they become autistic young men.

Bug Catcher’s movepool is changed almost completely in this generation, using things like Nincada, Dustox, and Ninjask, while Bug Maniacs favor Sirskit, Masquren, and Beautifly! As we all know, autistic little boys become water dual typed when they become autistic young men.

Now, onto the fourth gen!

This is clearly the highest fidelity sprite of Bug Catchers and drops blue in favor of green in their design, which is very interesting. In the last iteration of the Bug Catcher, they decided to drop the water type foreshadowing altogether… which makes sense, because Bug Maniacs did not make the jump! In this generation, their move pool remains nearly the same as gen 3, but they also learn Kricketot at a fairly low level and Kricketune at a higher one. You could tell, though, that Bug Catcher had fallen out of favor with the devs- In Sinnoh, you can only catch them in two spots (Route 204 and Eterna Forest) compared to early Kanto, where you can catch them in Viridian Forest, Route 2, Route 3, Mt. Moon, and others!

It’s very sad that Bug Catcher has fallen by the wayside. Pokemon was originally inspired by bug catching, so the fact that Bug Catcher has been out of the series for almost 15 years is genuinely tragic to me, and having grown up on gen 3 and 4 games, it was a big part of what pokemon WAS to me, even more than other iconic characters like Youngster and Hiker.

I’ll miss its time in the regional dex, but much like its enigmatic bug type move “Venonat” I’m sure it’ll be in a new game someday. See you next time :3

[pigeonpeach]

Diluc be crushing

Summary: reader is Diona’s older sister and also the crush of Diluc Ragvindr who is not just the prime bachelor of Mondstadt but also the prime heating pad for Mondstadt’s cats. Diona is angy about it thou

Diluc didn’t know what to do. He’d been trying to court his crush for a while but strangely enough Diona seemed to be interfering. If he left flowers she’d destroy them. He wondered if chocolates were even a good idea. Eventually he settled on meeting them himself. Something Diona was also not happy with.

Fortunately his crush was pretty friendly. They even asked if he’d like a room to himself as the cats seemed to swarm him. As they put it “with his vision he’s essentially a walking heating pad so many cats will prefer him.” He took their offer and asked if they’d like to play some TCG, something he didn’t indulge in too much but decided it was appropriate to do so. They accepted and they ended up talking for awhile. Diona kept trying to interrupt however but his beloved simply locked the doors and reminded Diona she had a job to do. Aftersome time Diluc sat on the couch so he could properly cuddle with the kitties. His beloved said she’d bring some snacks. But oh the gentle purr of the kitties, the comfy couch… the soft furrs. It was so comfortable. He hadn’t slept well either… surely a little nap couldn’t hurt…

Coming back to the room they were surprised to see him asleep. They poked him a bit until confirming he was. They were about to leave when they realized the cats now eating, had left him alone. Their cat instincts couldn’t help but wonder if he was warm too… they curiously pressed themselves against him to find indeed.. he was warm.. and cozy.. no wonder the cats loved him. Warm like the sunlight on a patch of grass. In his sleep he ended up wrapping his arms around them and oh! That was nice. His arms were so strong, and warm too… it felt so safe in his hold, you couldn’t help but purr slightly. A very quiet purr as you leaned against him, getting comfortable in his lap as you ended up falling asleep.

When Diluc awoke he was shocked to find you cuddled against him, purring too.. as well as a bit worried he wouldn’t make it to his other arrangements today… but that’s a small price to pay considering how utterly adorable his beloved looks like this.

[thepenultimateword]

Skin Crawl Part Two

Part One

CW: bugs, shedding skin (the description has the possibility of grossing people out)

Hero pinched themselves hard in the thigh, managing to snap our of their gawking stupor.

Ok. This was real. Villain--their Villain--was here and a criminal and apparently in a relationship. Not that that mattered, it wasn't like they'd ever been anything anyway. It'd been 8 years, and Hero had gone on plenty of dates in that time too; it would be weirder if Villain hadn't, so smooth and beautiful and interesting as they were. And Hero was the one who cut contact, so they didn’t really care what Villain did or who with, though maybe they should be focusing more on the criminal part of things, namely the imminent danger they would be in if they were found out, not just as a member of the agency but as Hero.

"Y-you don't want to make an appearance?" Hero said, attempting composure. It was not their best work.

"And ruin all your hard work?" Villain said with a tsk. "Despite what you think, I'm not that ostentatious. Come."

Hero sauntered closer, uncomfortably aware of their longer gait. Shedding one's skin could do many things, but it could not alter height. Bones were stubborn, painful things to change. Most people didn't notice a few-inch difference, and slouching, heels, or any manner of things could hide it. A familiar face blinded even the closest of friends and family. After all, shapeshifting wasn’t exactly a go-to suspicion. But Villain knew. Eight years ago they'd gotten good at picking Hero out of a crowd. If anyone was to notice that Remy was too tall, it would be them.

They consciously shortened their steps.

Villain dropped into a seat behind their desk, tossing the moth wings to either side of them. Hero carefully stepped over the curling tails and hesitated behind the criminal's shoulder. They were even more breathtaking up close. Hero had to fight the urge to run their hand down the velvet stretch of one wing. When had they learned to extend their power this way? At least, Hero had to assume the new appendages were due to their power. Abilities tended to have more angles than expected when properly trained. Did that mean Villain had found a trainer? Hero couldn’t imagine it. Their old friend had been so sensitive about using their gifts in front of others, and they’d had no relevant career plans to motivate further development. Though obviously neither of those things were the case now with Villain a criminal and flaunting their buggy affiliation to the world. People could change a lot in 8 years. Maybe Hero just didn’t know them anymore.

Had they been standing here too long?

Lover, Hero! they snapped internally. You're their lover! Do something lovers would do!

Their insides twisted.

They had played lovers dozens of times in their career and all that role entailed. Stepping into another's skin was like stepping into another reality, completely separate from their own. It didn't matter what they did or said, it wasn't them. But suddenly the idea of touching Villain hitched their breath in their throat, and they knew that reaction didn’t come from being Remy.

They would not slip through the cracks in this mask.

Hero gently draped themselves across Villain's back, wrapping their arms tenderly around their neck and tucking their chin against their lean shoulder. Hopefully, Vilain couldn't feel their heart pounding violently into their leather duster.

The centipede on Villain's shoulder took the opportunity of a new nearby surface and skittered up Hero's cheek, tangling its long body between the strands of their hair.

"You can quit the act," Villain said, shrugging Hero off. "No one else is around."

Quit...

Hero's stomach dropped. Did Villain know? How long? When they touched them? Since they entered the room?

"I--"

"And yes, I've checked for cameras. I don't accept building rentals from your family without thoroughly looking it over first."

Hero blinked.

Wait.

No.

They weren't referring to Hero's act. They meant Remy's. Remy's act of affection. Because... Oh. Oh! The relationship was fake!

The relief was intense, unexpected, and quickly smothered. They had a job, and if Villain was a part of it, that was too bad, but it didn't change anything.

Hero hastily grasped for the little they knew of their cover's personality. They'd hosted this party, their family rented this building, and they looked great in a silver ribbon tie.

"Well,” they said sitting on the edge of the desk and crossing one leg cavalierly over the other. “You can never be too careful. Also bug." They tipped their head toward Villain. "Bug."

Villain sighed and parted Hero's hair with careful fingers, manicured nails just scraping their scalp, and plucked up the centipede by its squirming middle. Then, tipping their head way back, they swallowed the entire massive creature in one gulp.

“John Macias is here.” They held up a rose gold tablet to Hero’s face. The screen displayed several panels of camera footage taking place in and directly outside the building. “And Lottie Blake.”

Hero knew both those names. The first was a generous donor to the agency. His funds had bought them a new combat training gym and updated the medical wing. He'd hinted at making the donations more regular, so now he was invited to every banquet, award ceremony, and exclusive event the agency held; he had even been given an extensive inside tour of the facilities. The press and the higher-ups liked to make a big fuss over him, but somehow Hero had the impression he wasn't giving money out of the goodness of his heart. As for Lottie, she was an ex-hero turned celebrity. Hero had been a rookie when she stepped down from the role of team leader and agency posterchild and turned to modeling and influencing, so they'd never met personally. However, they had enough associates in common for Hero to know she had been well-loved.

"Ok, so what's next?” Hero said. The faster they figured out Villain's plan, the faster they could get out of this situation.

“Your favorite part," Villain said. "Shopping.”

***

Hero had been prepared for many things tonight, but they had not prepared to be kneeling on the floor of Lottie Blake’s walk-in closet, rapidly stuffing designer heels and dresses into a garbage sack.

"You take the upstairs, I’ll take the downstairs,” Villain had said once inside--a disconcertingly easy task since Miss Blake's security was with her at the gala. A few guards were posted at the door and around the perimeter of the glamorous building but none had thought it very important to look up.

Villain's wings were even more gorgeous unfurled, pitch black against the night except for a faint silver lining that caught the moonlight, creating a glimmering outline from underneath. If that wasn't enough, the things were enormous, even larger than Villain's armspan. Hero supposed they would have to be to get them into the air, especially holding Hero under the arms. Once again, Hero had feared exposure by the difference in weight, but Villain hadn't said anything.

Inside there had been cameras, but a swarm of ants could look an awful lot like static when they crawled right against the lenses.

Hero shoved one more pair of glittery heels into the sack and then crawled to the closet door, peeking out into the bedroom to ensure they were alone. Finding the room empty, they fished their earpiece out of their pocket and pressed the call button.

"Hero?" came Other Hero's voice.

"So I figured out the heist," Hero said. "It's a robbery. The gala is just a distraction for both Lottie Blake and John Macias while Villain breaks into their houses."

"Seems like a lot of work for something as simple as a robbery."

Hero shrugged but then realized that Other Hero couldn't see them. "Maybe. I'll keep you updated when I find out what Villain is stealing. They're downstairs." A sudden image of the other agency members bursting in flashed across Hero's mind. Shoving Villain down. Crumpling those long moth wings like tissue paper. Revealing themselves as Hero. They suddenly felt nauseous. "I should probably stay undercover for as long as I can. That way I can gather more info."

Other Hero paused. "If you're up to it, I won't complain. But we can't just let criminals rob prominent agency affiliates."

Not if they wanted to continue getting donations.

"I think we should allow at least one hit, so Villain doesn't get suspicious," Hero said. "But we're going to have to come up with a plausible reason to alert Macia's security. One that doesn't involved Villain getting arrested."

"Leave that to me," Other Hero said. "You work on keeping your cover."

The call cut off, leaving Hero in anxious silence on the closet floor.

"Remy."

Hero's stomach leaped and they peeked out of the closet a second time. Villain stood in the bedroom door, carrying nothing but an apple.

They took a large bite and jerked their head behind them. "Ready?"

Hero pushed themselves to their feet and swung the garbage sack over their shoulder."Yeah. Let's go."

Villain peered at the sack as they headed out onto the bedroom balcony. "Quite the haul this time."

"You said to take the upstairs, so I took the upstairs." Hero gave them another quick once over. "Did you get everything you wanted?"

Villain fished a sleek black thumbdrive out of their pocket, rolling it over their fingers with a smile. "You could say I'm satisfied."

Not just any robbery then. But what info could Lottie Blake have that a criminal wanted. She wasn't exactly secretive. In fact, she seemed to enjoy flaunting every little detail of her life. Perhaps it was bank account information? Or past hero records?

No, they shouldn't overthink, all in good time.

"Good," they said.

Villain shoved the drive back into their pocket and stepped up behind Hero, casually wrapping their arms around their middle. Hero held their breath.

Calm down, calm down. You are Remy. Remy is not in love with Villain. Are they?

Villain's chest pressed sturdy and warm against Hero's back as they unfurled their wings, and that second pair of arms, or legs, grabbed their hips, securing them completely as they took flight. Hero had been too focused on their weight the first time to notice just how much care Villain put into transporting them comfortably, no dangling lower-half or painful pressure on one point of their body. Villain had always been thoughtful that way, not that anyone back at school recognized it.

What would it have been like to do this back then? To be held as themself. Before the secrets. Before the fallout.

"Do you ever get tired of it?"

"What?" Villain said.

"Being able to fly. Is it just normal for you? Or is it always amazing?"

"I thought it made you sick?" Villain said.

Hero choked. "Right. It does. But objectively, flying is amazing. So I was just curious. Forget it."

Villain's wing movements were soundless. And along with the long pause, all Hero could hear was the breeze brushing past their ears. Great. They'd screwed up.

"It's always amazing," Villain said suddenly. "I'm not saying I don't take it for granted, but if I was to ever lose this... It would be unbearable."

Villian had always been trapped in their life. In more ways than one. By parents, by circumstances, by expectations. Even if Hero was tricking them right now, possibly leading them into another cage, they were happy that Villain had found some freedom. Is that what had turned him to crime? A search for freedom?

"Villain--"

"Crap." Villain pulled up higher into the sky. Blue and red lights bathed the entire street in flashing blue and red.

Hero cranked their neck back to look up into their frowning face.

"How did they figure out we were coming?"

"Do you think someone saw us at Lottie's house?"

"Maybe. But even so, I don't know how they would've figured out our next target."

"Coincidence? For all we know everyone was tipped off, not just Macias."

Villain didn't respond to that. They just sighed heavily. "Well, that's that ruined."

"What do we do now?" Hero asked tentatively. "Go back to the party?"

"No point. The heroes probably have set up a trap. Hotel?"

Hero's insides went electric. Did Villain not have their own place? What about Remy? Didn't they have a rich family? But the way he was asking made it sound like a plan, not spontaneity. Great, Hero really hadn't wanted to wear this skin overnight.

"Hotel." Hero agreed. "But when you say that, you mean two separate rooms, right? Because you know I need my space--"

"You have your room, Remy."

"Ok, ok, just making sure."

A few minutes later, Villain landed them in an alley. They walked the rest of the way to a hotel just up the block. Not too shabby, but nothing extravagant either.

"Give me your jacket," they demanded just before reaching the door.

"What?"

"Your jacket. Unless you want thrown out before we even check in. People don't always take kindly to a bugman walking through their door. Especially hotels."

"Right!" Hero quickly shrugged off their wool, black coat, and passed it over to Villain. Villain threw it gingerly over their shoulders. It was a bit small for them, so the woman at the desk stared at them a bit strangely, but Hero supposed it was better than moth wings and an extra pair of legs.

Rooms 203 and 204. They walked together up the flight of stairs, stopping just outside their doors.

"I'll check the drive tonight and let you know what I've found in the morning," Villain said.

Or Hero could find out now and report it to Other Hero before morning.

"I could help."

"Ha! No offense, Rems, but I don't trust you with my laptop. You've broken my technology one too many times."

"Ah, well, I offered. Don't complain that I didn't help tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Remy," Villain said, rolling their eyes.

Hero knew that Villain wasn't talking to them. Not really. But for a moment it was so reminiscent of their teenage years. Staying up late. Not wanting to go back to either home.

Their heart squeezed. "Goodnight."

They gently shut the door and let out a long breath as they trudged over to the bed, flopping down face first.

What a nightmare. They couldn't wait to be back in their own skin. They forced themselves off the bed and into the shower where the evidence would wash away quicker. They stripped out of their clothes and rolled their muscles gingerly feeling the skin loosen like wet plaster. It sloughed off in dead sheets, revealing a more freckled skin beneath. Within a few minutes they were back to themselves again, They grabbed a towel from the hook, leaving the water running to break up the shed skin and wash it down the drain.

As they exited the bathroom, Hero dragged the table chair to the vanity and surveyed their face in the mirror. They tugged gently at a stubborn piece of skin, half-peeled under their right eye.

Next, they rubbed at their throat ponderingly, weighing pros and cons. Eventually, they decided to leave the vocal cords intact. Their throat might feel weird and cottony in the morning but hacking up bloody tissue was the last thing they wanted to do right now. Not to mention they’d just be shifting right back tomorrow. Best not to put too much strain on them by overshifting

A loud rap on the door made them leap in their seat.

"Just--just a second!"

They looked rapidly around the room. Clothes…clothes… Where were their clothes?

Hero scrambled toward the bathroom, snatching up water dropped outfit, chasing as the fabric caught on their damp skin. After a lot of hopping and maybe also a bit of fabric stretching, they strode to the door.

They were already grabbing the handle when they remembered their face.

The bit back another curse, and their face exploded with prickles as the newly shed skin encased them once again. Just in time to meet Villain’s off-in-thought face.

Their expression snapped back to alertness with the creak of the door.

"Hey, Remy--"

They froze.

"What?" Hero said, heart pounding. Was the face wrong? They’d spent so long studying it today, surely it wasn’t wrong?

"You're bleeding."

Hero felt their face. Sure enough, a warm streak of blood smeared across their forehead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Oh, yeah. Just cut myself. You know...shaping my eyebrows."

"Right..."

Hero pressed their palm over the tear and with their other arm leaned casually against the frame. "Did you need something?"

Villain stared at them a moment. "Just curious if you wanted something from the vending machine. I'm asking the desk for an extra pillow and thought I'd grab some drinks or snacks or something on my way back."

"Uh, yeah, sure. Maybe a Coke?"

Villain smiled. “Sounds good. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” They paused. “I’ll bring back a bandaid too.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Sure.”

As they stepped away, Hero quickly shut the door. Had Villain reacted strangely? Were they overthinking because of their close call?

Hero sped to the mirror turning their head from side to side. Yep, still exactly like the picture, well except for the cut across her forehead.

There would have been no reason to question them, right? They probably didn’t need to call Other Hero and worry them over nothing.

Hero sat back on the bed, only vaguely annoyed that they’d need to rushed part of their body all over again. The annoyance was eclipsed by the gnawing worry inside of l them. They really hoped they hadn’t gotten anything wrong,

[oopsimbug]

in which… y/n is stubborn, and harry is still an asshole

a.k.a. regency harry pt. 2

a/n: gah… i literally dont know what to say… how about: oh my god i am so sorry for taking so long! school, two jobs, a lack of inspiration and literally hating my own writing made sure i was unable to post for an entire YEAR AND FIVE MONTHS!!!! i DEEPLY apologise. i hope this is alright? let me know what you think! and yes, there WILL be a third part, hopefully out before the earth is enveloped by the sun?

pairing: regency era! harry styles x reader, enemies to lovers

summary: again, think little women, but with you instead of jo and harry instead of laurie… but harry is an asshole… a RELENTLESS asshole

warnings: harry is still a GIANT ass, all enemies no lovers, lots of really mean things said to each other, they literally truly hate one another like i have my work cut out for me trying to redeem this couple :’)

word count: 10.8k (smaller than my first chapter, but god did i struggle getting over the 9k mark… i literally hate myself)

read part one here!!

Money…

It was what made the world spin around. 

Unfortunately, the L/ns did not have as much of it as they used to. 

This was why, when their mother needed money to visit their father, who fell very ill, Y/n set out to find a job.

Replacing her mother at her job in the nurse's office wasn’t going to work- she was horrible with sitting still for too long. Besides, her hands were far too shaky to hold silly little fiddly needles. No, there was no chance she would do that. 

She could try to get a job at a shop- a bakery possibly? But no, she had little patience for old people, who were always either very interesting and passionate, which she loved, or very snooty and cold, which she despised with every cell of her being- and unfortunately, the majority of customers were the elderly, who shopped when they had nothing else to do during the day, and they were predominantly of the latter kind. 

Y/n was positively puzzled- stupendously stumped and magnificently muddled. She knew she was talented, but what job would she fulfill that would be of use and make a substantial pay? She pondered that all morning as she completed her chores- tending to the animals and picking up more wood. Once inside, she stoked the fire, made two cups of tea and sat at the dining table. 

“Saf!” she called to her sister upstairs. “Bring your packet and come to the table- it’s 9:30!”

At the age of 13, girls were forced to graduate school. Ma and Y/n, who didn’t believe this was enough of an education, devised a plan- once graduated, the L/n girls would do tutoring sessions with Y/n, who was passionate and proficient in all areas of English, which was what the girls would require the most to function in the world. She would also help with arithmetic- though it was not her strong point, she was confident in the skills they would probably need. Safia was under the tutoring of Y/n, as would Ula the next year. 

As she waited for the pitter-patter of Saf’s feet down the stairs, she thought to herself. Unfortunately, all natural thoughts seemed to lead in the same direction lately- all pertaining to a certain tall and lanky individual with brown hair. She was not moping, that was for sure- Y/n did not mope. She was not even upset about him choosing a different woman over her- that was a fleeting insecure thought held only in the heat of the moment that night. No, she was mad. Furious, in fact. How dare he- how dare he?! He strung her along, purposefully got her hopes up for the mere sake of making fun of her- he embarrassed her and then had the utter gall to smirk and wink about it afterwards! Y/n always had a temper, but this was anger on a whole different level. This was searing, hot, burning, blood-red vexation. Her hands began to ball into fists- she wanted to hit something, break something, hurt him and only him. 

However, before she could fantasise about all the ways she would cause him pain, she felt a soft arm on her shoulder. She must’ve been caught in a trance, unable to hear her sister come down the stairs and call her name once she reached the bottom and found Y/n unresponsive, as Safia’s face held deep concern, eyebrows knit together as she repeated her question. 

“Are you okay, Y/n?” her tentative and soft voice carefully asked, placing a hand on her forehead to check her temperature, ever the sweetheart. “You’re not feeling ill, are you? I know Liz was rid of her sickness a few weeks ago, but it may have lingered around the house.”

She smiled up at her younger sister, who moved her hand to feel her cheek, after finding no suspiciously hot temperature on her forehead. She shook her head and let out a small laugh, all of the rage for him leaving her thoughts. 

“I’m okay Saf… just thinking…” she replied honestly. She was just thinking… thinking of how she would pelt that damned boy with logs of firewood. Or maybe she should let Flynn at him- she had already told the Clydesdale of what had happened. Maybe he could stomp him down till he quivered and shook with fear, begging both of them for forgiv-

“Thinking about what?” Her sister’s voice pulled her out of her reverie once again.

Y/n looked up at her face, smiled brightly, pulled out the adjacent chair and patted it lovingly, before replying with a jolly tone.

“Nothing that you should worry about… Now, are you ready to venture into the world of Hedda Gabler?”

Her sister smiled sweetly before sitting down, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Of course I am!”

“Great! Because today, we are going to be analysing gender and how it influences power within our passage!” Y/n was always so excited to teach her about the books, poems and plays that she liked- there was no way she would teach her sister boring and dull theory, or pieces that only reflected a man’s perspective. No, she had an opportunity to open her sister’s mind and hopefully make a lasting impact on it- one that encouraged her to pursue her dreams without needing the opinion or permission from a man. And she wasn’t going to waste it. 

“Now, open to our bookmarked page, and let’s begin…”

*****

After finishing classes, Y/n got dressed and ran out the door before her sisters could follow her, unable to take all of them to the village on Flynn, and not wanting to upset anyone. She buckled the saddle into place and hopped on before riding the path all the way to town. After tying Flynn up with hay and water, she straightened out her dress and apron and began walking, dodging men who gave her glances of annoyance for her slightly messy loose hair, mussed on the fast journey on the Clydesdale. She had bigger things to worry about, despite what Liz would say…

She was picking up some lemons from the market, which Ula insisted on getting, convinced that they were necessary to her social status in her school, where pickled lemons were the talk of the town. While the need for lemons didn’t sound dire to Y/n, Liz benevolently gifted her extra loose change, justifying it with something about “knowing what it was like to not fit with others at school”. And while Y/n didn’t believe money like five whole dollars should go to waste on lemons, she still searched the shelves intently, looking for some that weren’t too costly. While leaning forward, she walked through an aisle, scouring the lowest shelf for them, unaware of the person she was about to bump into. Curse her clumsiness! 

She walked right into the unsuspecting person before standing to full height, apologies spilling out of her rapidly as she helped the older lady regain balance. Y/n had never seen her before- an older woman, around her own mother’s age, with brown hair that was greying from the roots and forest green eyes that twinkled, reminding her all too much of a certain boy, but she pushed those thoughts away. She also looked of money, with her elegant dress, shoes and shiny jewels.

Y/n began spilling out apologies as it was her own fault for the collision, and the kind lady forgave her each time with a “That’s all right, my dear”, with calming energy radiating from her. Once the two women had settled they let out breathy chuckles at the incident. Beginning to move back to her search for cheap citrus was halted, however, when Y/n noticed the woman seemingly struggling to find what she was looking for. Y/n observed covertly as the lady would gingerly pick up a bottle of what looked to be cologne, look at the label for a few seconds, squint as if to make out what it was saying, before putting it back nervously and repeating with the next. 

Y/n noted that when she would “read”, her eyes didn’t stop to comprehend the words. She needed help, and Y/n was not one to shy away from that fact. 

“Hello,” Y/n began. 

The lady smiled sweetly as she replied, her green eyes twinkling with curiosity.

“Hello, love.” she gently replied. 

Y/n wanted to help without seeming patronising, so she was careful with her words. “So, what brings you here, Ma’am?”

She looks around, then down at the glass bottle in her hand before looking back at Y/n. She fumbles and hesitates as she answers.

“Oh- well- I am looking for this shoe polish, but… I seem to be having a bit of trouble…”. She went beet red before she whispered in a meek and quiet squeak only fairies could hear. Fairies or those who had experience with shy sweethearts as Y/n had with her Saf. 

“You-“ she slightly huffed a bitter laugh through her nose. “You probably can already tell, but… I can’t read…” she confessed, thoroughly embarrassed.

If Y/n wanted to help the woman before, her holding cologne that would most certainly tarnish leather while shopping for shoe polish convinced her utterly and completely. She did not hesitate- not even for a beat, determined to show that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all! 

“I can help you! I never use shoe polish- my shoes are always getting muddy anyways, and it would only be a pain to scrub them for nothing, so I don’t have any suggestions in mind, but if you have an idea of the type of polish you wanted, I could help you out!” She dropped personal anecdotes into the conversation, as she often did when conversing with strangers, finding it easier to comfort others to relax around her when they knew she was an open book.

“Oh thank you, my darling! I am looking for a dark brown and black coloured polish that would work best for making leather loafers shiny.” 

And with that, Y/n began her search, starting with going to the correct section, before beginning to scan the tiers of the shelves carefully, looking for what the lady wanted. The woman followed her and began a friendly conversation with her as she searched. 

“My nephew needs new polish for his shoes. I would have told him to do it himself, but he’s out of town, you see. Went out of town, about a week’s trip away. I couldn’t send my maid either- I wished for her to take some time off while there were less people in the house, you see. So here I arrived, figuring I could just find it myself. Ah, how foolish.” She then sighed once more after simmering in laughter for a bit, looking wistfully at another tin she could not decipher the contents of. 

Y/n found the two tins of shoe polish, holding them out to her while responding firmly. “Ma’am, you are not foolish at all. At least you tried! And look, here you are helping your nephew who’s out of town, after letting your helpers take a break! That’s not foolish, that’s compassionate,”.

The lady smiled warmly, the wrinkles next to her eyes crinkling and creasing beautifully as she did. “Oh, darling, you are very sweet for using your gift to help those who cannot. Thank you!” She lightly squeezed Y/n’s cheek playfully before walking to the counter, Y/n following after her before placing the tins on the table for the cashier to process. 

“You are very welcome Ma’am.” The lady began to pull open the small embroidered coin purse she had in her slightly wrinkled yet sturdy hands, fishing for a coin before dropping it into Y/n’s palm and winking. 

Y/n’s eyes went wide as she attempted to hand the coin back. 

“Ma’am, I couldn’t possibly. I was just trying to be of service, truly. Please take your money.” 

But the woman was not having a lick of it. Her face grew stern, her eyes fiery as she quickly snapped back. “Don’t you dare try to give that back, it’s yours!”

Y/n reluctantly smiled and nodded gratefully before walking back to the shelves to continue her search for lemons as the gentle tinkle of the doorbell indicated the sweet lady’s exit. She could not stop thinking about her, however. Why was it that men were taught to read and write and build and farm, but women were only taught how to be good mothers and wives? That woman could learn to read- anyone could, really. All she needed was a teacher… 

Suddenly, Y/n had an idea. One that caused her to drop everything she was doing and run out the door to look for the woman. Teaching! Y/n could teach the woman and in return, get a bit of money! After looking around, she found her walking down the cobbled street, seconds from entering a very expensive and fancy carriage. 

“WAIT MA’AM!” Y/n cried, weaving past the people and carts on the busy street as she ran to her. The lady’s ears perked and she looked back, locked eyes with Y/n and froze with concern, allowing the younger girl to catch up. 

“Yes, my dear?” She asked, once Y/n had caught up and was attempting to catch her breath. After a few deep, embarrassingly wheezy breaths, Y/n finally calmed herself down enough to respond. 

“Icouldteachyou-”, she said exasperated all in one sentence before punctuating it with a heaving breath. After taking a lungful or two of air, she clarified to the poor confused woman.

“Ma’am, I could teach you how to read! If you would like!”

The woman’s eyes opened wider in astonishment before her face brightened with a radiant smile. “You would teach me?” She asked, almost flabbergasted.

“Yes, of course!” Y/n responds, enthusiastically. “I am currently teaching my sisters how to read, so I know how to do it! I could help you too if you would like!”

The woman’s warm and grateful smile shone brighter than the sun. And Y/n’s heart stuttered with excitement when she asked to exchange addresses for further communication. 

This was it… she was finally going to help her family.

******

It was four days later when the L/n residence received two letters, both with express stamps on them, signaling their importance. One was a letter from their father, which the girls were keen to read immediately, but waited for their mother to come home so they could unveil it together. The other, however, was mysteriously addressed to and only to Y/n. How peculiar! 

“Y/n you must open it in front of us- what if it is a secret admirer hoping to eagerly profess their love to you!” Ula whined. Liz shook her head and looked at the youngest girl. 

“If Y/n wants to keep this to herself, she exercises her right to do so”. Liz’ eyes drift to Y/n’s slowly as she continues. “…However…”, before finally running and springing onto her. “You MUST tell us if it is!” 

Y/n rolled her eyes at her sisters, despite Liz’s best attempts to put an end to the “unladylike” and “brash” behaviour. “Come on, there is no way it will be a boy… have you ever even seen me with one? I would run circles around them in every sense before their tiny minds could even get a singular word out!” 

Y/n, though thoroughly believing in her statement that yes, she probably could outshine any boy in the town, also- in the back of her mind- registered that yes, maybe she was overcompensating and exaggerating just the smallest bit in order to shield her heart, still sore from the events of Tilly Hughes’ ball and that wicked boy. Her sisters chuckled at her musing as she made herself comfortable on the sofa chair next to the fire, all three of her sisters huddling behind her in order to get a good view of the elegantly folded and wax-sealed letter that Y/n began to tear open. Once the pristine paper was unfolded, she stood up and began to pace as she read- her sisters giggling and breathing over her shoulder was doing no good, and she needed to focus. It read:

Before Y/n could process the words written on the paper, Liz narrated the letter to Saf and Ula- the latter began to squeal mercilessly, while Liz grinned from ear to ear, pores radiating with pride for her sister. 

*******

The house was astonishing. It was grand, it was elegant, it was pristine.

Above all, it was capital!

The trek down the natural and lush path of trees and fields was all a ruse- Y/n knew Ms Ophelia was a rich woman, but she but any preconceived notion of what her house may look like while trekking the trail was completely, utterly, jaw droppingly decimated. Once reaching the end of the driveway (walking ever so slowly to take the majesty in), Y/n and Flynn were met with pristine hedges that bordered the entire property. Two large white marble columns with oil lamps attached signaled the beginning of the courtyard. In between them, was a large opening where Y/n could see the greenest grass she had ever witnessed, a center hedge path, and behind it, Ms Ophelia’s grand home. Y/n’s mouth was hung open as she approached the large, stark white building, with its covered entrance, wide expanse and huge windows. 

It was a stretch for it to even be called a house. It was a mansion- a manor. Y/n resolved that there must be a plethora of family members that justified the sheer volume of space there was to occupy. She stepped off of Flynn, held the end of his reign, and walked through the grassy courtyard and to the front door. She would have taken Flynn to the stables, not wanting her first introduction to her well-paying student to be interrupted by the attention-hungry Clydesdale, however, the house was so grand she could not even begin to wonder where the hell the stables could be. Instead, she smoothed the light wrinkles out of the frock that Ula picked for her, slightly disgruntled when remembered the lack of a waistcoat she had on. She attempted to fix and flattened the now slightly frizzy hair that Liz had spent almost an entire hour to style, mussed a tad due to the breeze created while riding Flynn, before taking a deep breath in... and rang the doorbell.

She heard some muffled clattering, before hurried footsteps approached, growing louder and louder before they reached the mahogany door, pulled open to reveal a positively ecstatic Ms Ophelia- her brown hair pulled back with a hair pin, but similar in frizziness to Y/n. Her eyes squinting with her warm closed lip smile, the green irises truly dazzling with excitement. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant green and white silk dress, her chest adorned with a single thin gold necklace threaded through a small locket. 

"Y/n!!! So nice to see you!” The lady took Y/n and Flynn in with a charming smile, cooing at the latter before stepping forward to give the Clydesdale a stroke down his white blaze and a scratch on his chin, causing him to preen, closing his eyes a soft huff of pleasure. She then looked to Y/n. “Please, my farmhand Thomas will take this handsome boy to the stables out back."

She looked past Y/n to the front garden and called to the man Y/n hadn't noticed had been planting flowers. He had shiny blonde hair, short from the sides while the top was long and messy, slightly damp with sweat. He pushed the golden mess out of his face and smoothed it back, revealing a bit of dirt on the sun-kissed skin of his forehead. Descending down, there were thick eyebrows, hazel brown eyes squinting in the glare of the sun, a strong nose, and full lips that were pursed and curved into a sweet and friendly smile. He stood, brushed himself off, approached Y/n, and wordlessly took Flynn with a charming smile, nodding to her before walking around to the side of the house. After losing sight of him, Y/n looked back to Ms Ophelia, who opened the door and gestured Y/n in. 

"Please do come in!" As Y/n stepped through the threshold of the house, Ms Ophelia continued. 

"I was just about to make myself a cup of tea- I warmed up enough water for the both of us. How do you take it?" The older woman began walking, Y/n trailing behind her as they entered the beautiful eggshell white kitchen with purple accents.

"Oh, well if it isn't a bother, I take one sugar and only a bit of milk" Y/n watched as the woman poured the boiling tea into the two mugs. 

"Huh!" Ms O looked at Y/n funny, before looking down at the cups she was working on. "Me too! Just enough milk to make it a very dark brown?"

Y/n’s eyes begin to light up incredulously. "Yeah! That's right! My sisters all think that I never put enough in!" 

"My nephew does too!" 

The women looked at each other and smiled- they both knew there was some sort of connection that brought the two of them together, and that they would be kindred spirits. 

*******

The lesson went swimmingly, as agreed by both Y/n and Ms Ophelia (sorry- just Ophelia, the older woman had been very adamant about that). They had sat and begun with the alphabet, and while Ophelia was quite bashful when Y/n corrected her, they knew that with time, they would become more comfortable. Eventually, despite her consistent imploring that she stay for dinner, Y/n insisted she must go home. 

"But my nephew will be home soon! He is such a charming, well articulated boy! Loves reading and the such- You two would get along so delightfully!" She clapped her hands eagerly at the thought, however, Y/n, softly stroking a saddled Flynn- thanks to Thomas, who wordlessly passed her the reins before walking off- looked at her new student and friend with a soft smile. 

"I'm sure anyone who grew up around you would be a wonderful friend, Ophelia, however I really must get home. My family will be expecting me soon."

Once goodbyes had been exchanged, they agreed to meet once again in a few days. And with that, Y/n mounted Flynn and began to ride the now dusky ride home. She may have dawdled a little- the sun was still so warm, and the breeze was beautiful. Flynn moved at a comfy pace as she appreciated the beauty of the world around her. 

However, that beauty was soon not in her focus when Y/n noticed someone riding towards her in the distance. She continued her pace, and as the figure approached, ready to return a polite nod if they were to greet her. As the figure continued on further, she squinted and began to make out a mop of brown hair, and a black blob of a coat, before all too quickly she recognised those sharp green eyes and the nose and those stupidly plush lips as he trotted closer and closer and god- oh no…

Y/n began to feel her stomach drop.

"Well well well! Look who it is!" That snide voice, that blasted smirk that taunted her. 

It was her arch nemesis.

His horse slowed down while she did nothing to stop Flynn, walking completely past him without even acknowledging him- her eyes forward and steely. She thought she had escaped him but she heard footsteps coming closer, however, and soon, Y/n was walking side by side with none other than Harry Styles. 

"What's with the cold shoulder, sweetheart? Have I done something to upset you?" He taunted in a teasing tone. 

"I am not your sweetheart, and don't you have a party to crash, loverboy?" She rolled her eyes and kept moving forward, him keeping an identical pace beside her.

"Ooft, take it easy darling, you’re going to hurt my. Large. Throbbing. Swollen. Red. Hot. Heart!" He punctuated each word with a beat, and Y/n's face became hot; she began to scrunch the sweaty leather reigns harder into her palms at the obvious innuendo. Harry saw this and grinned wickedly for getting to her, a malicious giggle even seeping out of him- he enjoyed this. He enjoyed relishing in her awkwardness. Once his giggles calmed, he shook his head and continued. "What are you doing out so late anyways? Meeting up with a secret lover?" 

Y/n couldn't even dignify that with a response, and merely scoffed and rolled her eyes again at the preposterous accusation. He noticed and continued.

"Hey, you scoff at that now, but who knows. It seems to be the quiet, pure ones that surprise me the most. The most proper girls always turn out to be the dirtiest. So, no- I don't think it's out of this world for a little thing like you to be getting your hands or mouth sullen for a bit of pleasure. Did you see the way you trembled for me the night we met? And the way you cried when I was paying attention to that little French girl? Don't lie, you were charmed, and seeing me with someone else broke your fragile. Little. Heart." 

He was unbelievable for bringing that up again… Y/n felt her rage boiling now. She responded bitterly and slowly. "Please, you are so full of yourself…. And of course you would know all about women and their sexuality, now wouldn't you"

"Hard to scorn someone for being likeable, isn't it, Grumpy?"

Y/n had to stop her horse fully and glare at the idiot. She looked deep into his eyes, calmed down and began to smile. She was in complete and utter disbelief. She shook her head and giggled a peal of bitter laughter. Harry’s face darkened in irritation. 

“What’s so funny, huh?”

Y/n’s smile didn’t reach her eyes as her giggles quelled. "It's funny that you think you are likable, Harry. You see, there is a difference between being desirable, and being easy. And it’s only the thoughtless ones like you who seem to be incapable at telling the difference. Not a thought behind those eyes, is there?... I wouldn't be surprised if you'd thought with your cock so much that your brain had atrophied due to the lack of use. You're not likeable, Harry Styles... you're just a plaything for widows and repressed virgins who wish to piss off their fathers to use and discard. And I cannot help but feel sorry for you for being the only one who cannot see that."

If she was not mistaken, Y/n believed she saw a bit of surprise and possibly even hurt in his eyes before they hardened, their playfulness completely drained. She did not think she was going to say that at all, and in any other situation, she would have thought that to be such a mean thing to say... But she had been sitting on that for far too long, and he had pushed her over with the teasing and the cockiness. She had had enough. Harry Styles needed to be brought down a peg or two.

They stared each other down fiercely, neither wanting to stand down. Then, he quickly shot at her. "You are nothing but a poor virgin with a gabby mouth that you wish was stuffed with my cock." he spat with nothing but poisoned malice.

Ouch… He was trying to catch her off guard, an attempt to garner some pride back, and while it immediately hurt Y/n, the wound of embarrassment growing in her heart, she knew she could not let him win. She quickly locked and loaded, before pulling the trigger without thinking. 

"And you are nothing but a dirty harlot who wastes his privilege of manhood on being a tart to women who don't even want him." she spat back at him. 

Targets acquired and shots fired, the two needed to go home and lick their wounds, crudely bandage their bullet holes and hope the sharp pain of the words spoken were only a temporary detriment to their own health, but an everlasting hellscape to each other. Both wanted to see the other in pain. Both wanted to win.

So with that, Harry made a big show about rearing his ashy grey horse up and around, before both of them spurred their horses forward into a gallop and away from the other- both carrying furrowed eyebrows, slightly hurt feelings (that they would never admit to), and a newfound degree of ire for each other…

He won’t get away with this.

********

Once tacking up Flynn, Y/n stomped her way to the house, still unbelievably enraged by the verbal warfare engaged with that brunette ass. She knew she wanted some alone time to calm down, but once entering her cosy home, she was bombarded with questions from her sisters- mainly Ula.

“Was the house big?!”

“What kind of dress was Ophelia wearing?!”

“How many servants did she have?!”

“Did she have lots of paintings on the walls?!”

“Any handsome sons?!”

“Did she tell you if she’s been to any exotic places like France or Switzerland?!”

“How was your day, Y/n?”

The last question was asked, of course, by her angelic sister Safia. Y/n lovingly rolled her eyes at the incessant questions from Ula and answered Saf’s tenderly. “My day was alright Saf, thank you for asking.”

“That’s good- I wished hard on all the dandelions I could find outside that you would come home safe and sound.” Y/n’s heart melted- she walked over to the younger girl and kissed her forehead with so much love and passion.

Ula observed the tenderness of the exchange and rolled her eyes. “Safia is perfect”, she taunted with a roll of her eyes before returning to her previous exercise of pulling up on the septum of her apparently “hideous” small aquiline nose to shape it into a more button nose, which she believed to be more elegant. Y/n looked back at Saf and whispered lovingly in her ear.

“Never stop wishing for the people you love the most, okay Saf?” Y/n gave her one more kiss before moving to the youngest sister with the most spunk besides Y/n herself. She gently swatted her hand away from her nose before lovingly stroking the bridge as she pulled Ula in for a hug from behind.

“And you, little missy! Stop trifling with the features your parents so lovingly passed to you. That nose isn’t a curse, it’s a gift. Treat it as one.” She kissed Ula’s head too before heading further into the house to greet her older sister and her mother. But as they had dinner, Y/n could not stop thinking about how much she hated Harry… little did she know, however, that her older sister Liz observed her suspiciously throughout the night.

Once in their room, hair and teeth brushed, dressed in their respective pyjamas- Liz’s a dainty white nightgown akin to the one Harry so scandalously described, and Y/n’s a mismatched patchwork buttoned set that Ma had made out of Y/n’s old clothes that she was too big to fit into, yet could bear to part with. Tucked into their beds, Liz turned to face Y/n and began.

“If Ms Ophelia was so very nice, what is the problem?”

Y/n turned to face her with furrowed brows. “What problem? There is no problem”

Liz rolled her eyes and shot back. “Yeah yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, Y/n. You can fool Ula- which isn’t saying much, but you can't fool me, so why don't we pretend like I tirelessly needled it out of you and you skip to the bit where you tell me what’s wrong”

Y/n sighed a long, hard, tired and frustrated sigh, before ultimately giving in. “I ran into a sworn enemy on the ride back home today…”

Liz shot up, eyes wide and mouth agape.“Who?!?”

“Harry Styles.”

Elizabeth stared incredulously at her sister, propped her pillows so she was sitting up, and began needling Y/n for more information. “What did he say? What did he do? Why is he your enemy?”

Y/n sighed. There was no way she was going to get to sleep until she told Liz everything. So she began…“You know of his reputation, yes?”

Y/n’s older sister gasped again. “Y/n… don’t tell me… he… with you?”

Y/n immediately understood what she was insinuating. “NO! No way! Never! Not in a million years! You know I hate everything to do with boys. I cannot believe you would think that of me!”

Liz sighed and sunk into herself in relief. “Thank god! I didn’t think you would but… unfortunately his reputation is quite… damning to say the least. Why, it was only last week he was with Amelie… did you see the way he returned her to the group? He didn’t even bother to wipe her lipstick from his lips! What a brute!”

Y/n brought her blanket up even closer to her face until only her eyes were visible, and mumbled her confession. “I know… I told him exactly so today…”

The older sister slowly started at her, tone changing completely to one low and testing. “What...That he is a brute?”

“Yes of course!” Y/n immediately shot back, exasperated.

Her sister stared at her with her mouth agape and eyebrows intensely furrowed. “...WHY?! Haven’t you heard of his family?!?” At Y/n’s confused face and shaking head, Liz took a deep breath and began. His father lives all the way in New York… Ma told me it was because he was absolutely dreadful to his wife and Harry all the time. Kept money from them, abused them, hit them- so much so that eventually they had to run away from him when he was only 10. They fled to a safe place- some cottage in the middle of nowhere? But get this- once there, his mother contracted scarlet fever and passed away. He had to walk all by himself to the nearest village to call for help- by the time medical assistance arrived, his mother was long gone. And with no other relatives bar his wicked father, he was left in the care of his devilishly deviant, yet disgustingly rich aunt.”

Y/n went completely silent. She didn’t know any of this… Of course this was deeply traumatic and saddening- but Y/n could not help it- her stubbornness was a curse, not a gift. And the curse would not allow even a tale so sorrowful allow Harry a free pass. 

“Liz- of course this is deeply tragic and traumatic- however, circumstances can only explain actions. They don’t justify them. What has happened to Harry should mean that he spends his time helping women, not putting them down… which, I guess he does by pleasuring them, but God I wish he wasn’t so smug and pompous about it… He was so- well, not nice, but normal and cheeky and charming, when we first met- it was like a switch flicked in his head and that man no longer exists”

“Of course- if he is as cruel as you say, I 100% agree. Although he has a right to hold trauma, it does not change the fact that he is but a wicked man”

The girls sit in silence for a second, contemplating. Then, ever the know it all, Liz jumped right back into her Styles Family History Lesson, giving Y/n the run down. 

“But anyways, his aunt is apparently a very influential figure! She’s rich beyond belief, and could probably control this entire town with the pulling of some strings and some money, which she most definitely has! Do not fool around with them, Y/n… especially not Harry…” Elizabeth brought her hands up to her temples to sate her sudden headache, a frequent occurrence when having to feel stressed for Y/n whenever she inevitably threw herself into apparently unacceptable situations, such as whistling in public or not wearing gloves, and had no apparent regard for the consequences. 

“What am I to do then?! He is my sworn enemy- if I see him in my general vicinity, my whole body and soul tells me to rip him to shreds! How am I supposed to see him at balls, and on random walks back home, and NOT rip my hair out of my head?!” Y/n complained with a whiny tone.

“Avoid him! Completely and utterly avoid him”

Y/n harrumphed. “...Fine…”

“Good idea- I know… plus… you know what they say.” A lilt of cheekiness entered the previously stern tone. 

“What?”

A wide smile grew on Y/n’s older sister’s face, unable to hide her amusement. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Who knows- maybe he just fancies you? You know… like likes you” 

Y/n immediately threw a spare pillow at her sister’s head and groaned, before burying her hot face under the covers, completely and utterly embarrassed. Elizabeth dodged the stray pillow as she laughed raucously at how annoyed her sister became. 

Y/n shook her head vehemently. “Never in a million years, Liz…”

Never in a million years…

*********

“Make sure you avoid making the “Z” look like the number “three”. Remember, small angled curl, then draaaaaag down to make a bigger and longer angled curl. Other than that, Ophelia, I must inform you that unfortunately my work may as well be over… because these have to be some of the best cursive letters I have ever seen- I know that I have only ever taught my younger sisters, but I am nothing short of confident that you are the fastest learner I have ever had, ever!” 

Ophelia put her hand up to her chest and let out an exasperated breathy laugh that combined a giggle and a sigh of relief. “Stop it Y/n… you nearly gave me a heart attack! Anyways, it’s not that great.” She emphatically waved her hand as if to physically shoo the thought away. “I believe that as long as I am able to write and read, who cares about the blasted handwriting. As long as it is- at the very least- legible, I don't mind a thing.”

Y/n could not emphasise this enough: she loved Ophelia. She was sweet, funny, sarcastic, naughty and brash enough to understand all of Y/n’s jokes as simply that- jokes with no malice. Y/n admired her face thoroughly in amazed silence. Ophelia glanced at her and continued. “Now, would you like a cup of tea before you go?”

Y/n was shaken out of her trance and began to pack up her books as she responded. “No, thank you. I'm okay- I really should get going though. The wind is picking up and as much as I would love to stay and chat, I don’t really think being cold and wet is how my mother wants me to return home!”

Y/n bids Ophelia farewell from inside the house before going out back to meet Flynn at the stables. However, she sees another figure tending to him, and as she arrives closer, she notices not Thomas’ blonde messy hair- but instead a soft brown colour. 

Jesus Christ, this guy will just not leave her alone, will he?!

Y/n is about three feet away when the figure finally turns, and she is once again met with the cheeky smirk of Mr Harlot Styles. He looks her up and down carefully, making her insides all squirmy under his inspection- she hated the way he made her feel so uncomfortable in her own skin. Once finding her eyes, he began. 

“Grumpy…”

“Harlot… Leave Flynn alone. He doesn’t like jaded asses.” Y/n crossed her hands over her chest and stood with a cold hard stare.

“Flynn? Pretty name.” Harry looked at Flynn and continued. “Does the angry little lady dump her frivolous complaints and girly problems onto your poor back, my friend?” Harry looked back to Y/n and continued. “ And hey, he might hate jaded asses, but apparently, he loves temper tantrum-throwing toddlers if he’s your horse.” 

If she didn’t know how horrible of a person he was, she would classify the way he was scratching Flynn’s chin as lovingly- but Harry wasn’t loving, and he certainly wasn’t capable of loving. He was a beast. Just another man who thought Y/n spent her hours with her equine companion complaining as if juvenile… and what the hell are “girly problems”?! 

Harry chimed in again, breaking her out of her frustrated train of thought. “Huh! Would you look at that, Grumpy- your jaded ass-hating “noble” steed’s loyalty can unfortunately be bought by absolute strangers!”

He smirks up at her as he pulls a sugar cube from his pocket and holds it out to Flynn, who eagerly licks it up, jutting his snout into Harry’s hand to spur some more pats out of him. Y/n let out an angry huff. “Greedy traitor…” she mumbled under her breath to her horse, before taking a deep breath and got straight to the main issue, not wanting to spend any longer talking to him than she had to. 

“What are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

“God, I was just wondering when I would be in your lovely company again- you know- should I call a doctor for your hysteria? Because it is you, girly, who is consistently following me. I would be surprised due to your incessant reminders that you hate me, but I’m not. Your infatuation with me seeps through your shoddy disguise completely. Face it, Grumpy… you’re obsessed with me.” 

Y/n wanted to slap him so hard. Or at least shoot back some equally damning response, but Liz’s words echo in her ears to simply ignore him. So she simply comes closer, walking to the opposite side of Flynn and begins strapping her bag to Flynn’s side saddle pouch. 

“Your silence is deafening, Grumpy… Is this it? Are you finally admitting that you have been just another precious little schoolgirl obsessed with me this whole time? I bet you would look out your window and pray to every shooting star that floated by that you would see me again. Did you giggle with your little friends while braiding each other's hair about how much you want me? I bet you squirm under your covers in a little pure white virginal nightgown dreaming about my fingers and my tongue and my cock. I bet you're stupidly in love with me, huh Grumpy?”

Y/n hated the way he would describe typically feminine stereotypes with such condescension. She hated being treated like a little girl. Throwing Liz’s advice completely out the window, she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath- just a little something to hurt him. “What would you know about love, Daddy’s boy?…” 

If Y/n looked up from the saddle pouch she was working on, she would see Harry’s eyes blown wide with surprise. He looked so vulnerable- almost childlike- as if her comment transported him back to his father’s house. Before she noticed his silence, though, he schooled his face and began to round the horse, his eyes darkening. “And what would you know about anything? You’re just a pathetic little girl. You act as if you have experience with the world, as if you will be anything more than a boring old housewife, but you never will be…”

Y/n stared daggers into Harry as he stalked closer and closer until he was less than a foot away from her, their outerwear brushing against each other. If he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, their bodies would be flush against one another completely. Y/n had never felt so degraded. She was just another girl to him. She was just another girl to all other men. Her biggest fear was being forgotten- for her loving family- her creative sisters and amazing mother- to be forgotten… For all of the amazing women that she encountered at balls to be forgotten. To be married off and treated as property. 

Harry continues on his poisonous tirade in an unwavering cold and calm voice, striking the deepest of Y/n’s insecurities and fears with pinpoint accuracy. “You look down on my hobby of pleasuring married women, but what you don’t understand is that when you are unhappily married off within the next few years, you will be writing letters to me, begging me to relieve you. You will wish I wanted you… You will wish your husband wanted you… You will wish any man wanted you… You will wish you were special… But you're not.”

Y/n held her breath as his hands raised up from his sides, ringed fingers lightly trailing over her skirts, her waist, her arms, her shoulders. Higher and higher, they softly glided over the fabric of her puff sleeves, before reaching her face, and cupping her cheeks. Harry’s eyes slowly flitted back and forth between Y/n’s eyes and her lips. His brows furrowed and his mouth slightly opened, before lifting his right thumb to slowly pull down at her bottom lip... 

…then release the pressure created with his hold, watching- almost studying, its fullness intensely as it bounced back into place. Voice now barely above a whisper, rumbly and deep, he continues.

“You’re just another silly little girl who will be nothing but a wife someday.”

Harry’s hands moved from her cheeks to her neck, cupping her head, thumbs delicately tracing circles on the skin behind her ears, sending shivers up her spine. 

What was this? And why was it sending Y/n’s knees wobbly? She needs to snap out of it- remember her anger for him. All of her interactions with him, even this one, were merely strategies to throw her off- to dominate her. And she would not allow that.

So as Harry moved his hand to cup her neck, leaning in closer, she opened her mouth, ready to dismiss all logic and decimate the animal standing before her, attempting to kiss her just to intimidate her. Fuck everything- fuck him, fuck Liz’s advice, fuck men and their incessant need for girls to be prim and proper. Fuck all of them.

About to fire her biggest blow, all while he leaned closer and closer, his lips ever so close to touching hers, they were suddenly halted in their tracks by someone calling her name.

“Y/n!...” the voice was urgent but far away. Both Harry and Y/n looked out of the stable to see Ophelia running towards them. Y/n and Harry looked at each other and took a big step away from their close proximity as Ophelia finally reached the stables and held her hand on a wooden panel as she caught her breath, panting heavily. 

“Th-Thank-” A wheezy heave interjected her sentence. “GOD”. Another heave. “You hadn’t left yet!” She stood up straight and wiped the light sweat from her forehead with her wrist before straightening her back and walking closer to her. She raised her right hand, which held a small handkerchief, tied into a lovely little package. 

“I packed some hedgehog slice for you in case you get a little hungry on the way home!” She sighed exasperated, before looking between Y/n and Harry. 

Y/n’s heart melted a little- she came bounding all the way down just to give her a little snack? She was the sweetest woman in the world! And now Y/n was going to see her in action against the intruder to her property that was Harry Styles… Y/n was ready to see some ire and some spit hurled at him once she explained exactly what Harry had said about her and all womankind, really.

But that is not what happened.

Not at all.

Ophelia smiled warmly at Harry before looking at Y/n. “Ahh, I see you have already met my nephew, Harry!”

What. The. Hell?

Harry looked smug as anything as Ophelia continued. “He is the lovely, well articulated bookworm I was telling you about the other day!” 

Y/n gritted out a very hesitant “Nice to meet you…” as he looked at her, full of ego.

Harry then opened his mouth, presumably to tell his aunt about the intrusion that was Y/n’s presence on their land, but Ophelia quickly shut him up too. 

“And Harry, this is the bright and wonderful tutor and friend I was telling you about! Y/n is teaching me how to read and write!” 

Harry’s mouth shut immediately. It was Y/n’s turn to smirk smugly as he gritted out an “A pleasure to meet you” back. The two stared at each other steely, as if they were in a stand-off of the mind, all while Ophelia unknowingly watched on with a large smile. 

“I am sure you too will be fast friends! Don’t you agree?” Ophelia had so much hope in her voice. The two grit their teeth, not wanting to make a scene or displease the sweet Ophelia-

“Certainly…”, they manage to comment, in unison.

And after Ophelia hugs Y/n goodbye one more time, before turning and leaving, Harry tails after her, but not before giving a final glance back to Y/n. He smirked, the smile filled with boyish playfulness, but Y/n saw his eyes- those blasted green eyes clouded with taunt. He was challenging her. To what exactly- she didn’t know. To see who could hurt each other the most? To see who would win in the overall war between the two? Or was it just a smirk at her begrudging fate? That she would have to put up with him now because although Ophelia is a sweet woman, Y/n’s connection to her will never trump Harry’s- he’s her nephew. 

As Y/n saddled her was going to have to do what she wanted to the least in order to maintain both a professional and personal relationship with Ophelia, who she admired both as a student and as a friend…

She was going to have to be civil with Harry.

**********

Y/n believed wholeheartedly that it was punishment enough; that she was forced into both proximity and (at least) faux politeness with her sworn enemy- but evidently, fate had more to give. And damn, could it pack a punch!

It was almost silly that she hadn’t thought the universe had been through with her… When Y/n made the one-hour trip to Ophelia’s house, she just had to not bring her large, rainproof jacket. She just had to decide not to put Flynn’s horseshoes on, which would prevent him from slipping and sliding in the wet mud… Why would she do any of that?! It was perfectly sunny, and even a little bit warm on that Friday morning…

But no… of course, the moment she begins to wrap up her lesson with Ophelia and ride home- where she would tuck into a well-deserved late lunch and spend some time with sisters- of course it is only two days after she has discovered that her student raised and lived with her sworn enemy- it is then and only then that she finds herself stuck at their house, as a giant thunderstorm magically appears and begins raining hellish hail and pouring water from the sky. 

“Y/n, there is no way I am letting you ride home in this weather! That simply will not happen under my roof. I will send an urgent telegram to your mother to let her know you are safe and warm, but you are staying over for the night and that is final.”

There was no arguing with Ophelia. So no more than five minutes later, Y/n was being escorted through the maze that was her student’s mansion, and to a guest room she would be occupying for the night. She was sprawled on the giant, fluffy bed when she felt her skin crawl at a particular thought- though he had not appeared during her lesson, Y/n knew that Harry was somewhere in the house- Ophelia said so herself, as they walked to her room. What if they bumped into one another? 

“Harry is somewhere around here- I am sure that you two will be the bestest of friends- you have so much in common!”

Y/n had to awkwardly laugh and smile at that, agreeing as politely as possible so as to not arouse any suspicion- however, Ophelia seemed to take this for genuine interest though and began doubling down. 

“Hey, why wait until dinner- I can call him now!? Maybe Harry can give you a tour of the house- the gardens, the gallery, the library! Give me two seconds and let me go fetch him-” 

Y/n had never had such a visceral reaction in her life when she shouted a clear and desperate “NO!”... It took her a few seconds to recollect her thoughts before she attempted to save face; she halfheartedly dismissed the idea with a feeble excuse that she didn’t want to impose, and that she and Harry would have plenty of time to chat at dinner. Despite the suspicious glint in Ophelia’s eye, she did not press any further and left her to rest and unpack as she went to have a bath and take a relaxing nap before supper. 

Thus bringing us back to Y/n- sprawled on her bed, deciding that she would not leave the room until supper. There was no way she would risk bumping into Harry while wandering around his house. What if he had another sultry guest for the evening?! What if he shooed her off as if she was nothing but a fly?! Heaven knows he had done all of that before- and all on the same night! She began rummaging through her bag to retrieve her book, content on sitting down and reading as she waited for dinner, but as she rummaged, it dawned on her… 

Her novels, her personal pens and paper? All of them were either at home or in Flynn’s side saddle pouch, hanging in the stables- she had been carrying her personal books and papers for the past few lessons but found the weight quite heavy, and all for very little payoff- she rarely got a moment to read when she was in the middle of a very interactive, collaborative lesson. The reality of her situation collapsed on her as she brought her hands up to her face and let a frustrated groan into them- she was going to be stuck here in this room with no entertainment for the next four hours - Ophelia was occupied, her books and pens were with Flynn, and there were no reading materials in the beautiful yet empty chest of drawers and side tables of the elegant guest room.

There was no way she could sit quietly like this… She began to get cabin feverish already. She needed to get out… 

Harry wouldn’t be strolling about his own house, right? It was 2:30 pm on a Friday- surely there must be some work he had to complete? Y/n resolved that there was no way she would be able to continue to live if she didn’t have something to stimulate her mind, and the thought of passing up an opportunity to explore the various forms of entertainment in Ophelia’s vast house seems daft, even verging on sinful… 

So, with a deep breath, Y/n stretched her arms above her head, took a deep breath, and lifted herself off of the plush linen-covered mattress. She ever so slowly opened the heavy, beautifully intricate mahogany door and peeked out of the minuscule crack she created. 

Left, right, left again, right again. 

The coast seemed to be clear- she opened the door wider so that she could stick her whole head out of it. She looked left, right, left again, right again. You could say that she was maybe overreacting by being so very cautious, but she would rather not run into Harry and be forced to return to her room before she had acquired some entertainment and had a good look around the place.

Once she was completely sure that the coast was clear, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and, with her hands behind her back, began to stroll the hallways curiously. Soon, her fascination with the grandeur of the mansion quelled her alertness and she found herself enamoured by the architecture as she walked down the hallways. 

She wished she could dip her head into every room she saw, but she wasn’t that daft- that would be one surefire way to overstep her welcome, especially when she was essentially stuck until the storm cleared up. 

She continued slinking around in a manner similar to Fennec’s- she took a right, and found herself walking down a hallway she would guess was near the back of the house, as the large windows to her left illuminated her pathway and showcased a beautiful array of pruned trees along a cobblestone path, with steps that led down to a beautiful, large pond filled with greenery. There was a small path that also winded around the pond and ventured into a beautiful, lush green forest. The rain pattered so beautifully onto the glass, creating beautiful shadows on the otherwise dim hallway. The house truly was magnificent. 

Once reaching the end of the hallway, Y/n was greeted with two very tall and wide arched wooden doors. She hoped and prayed she wasn’t about to walk into a personal room, before pushing in to peek at the contents. 

A large expanse of beautiful oak shelves befell her- filled to the brim with books. Books upon books upon books! Nestled so tenderly, they were wrapped in beautiful leather casings. 

Bingo! The infamous library!

Though there was a main seating area in the middle of the room- with comfy juniper green couches that looked a dream to rest upon, there were also many bay windows and little reading nooks to curl up in. Tucked into the corner was a desk, a chair and a reading lamp. In fact, there were lamps all around the room, however, most of the light came from the warm roaring fire that blazed in the fireplace. Y/n could imagine sitting in front of the fire on a pillow, a soft throw around her and a mug of tea between her crossed legs as she read Dickens. 

Y/n wove through each shelf, looking at all the amazing titles there were. There was everything here! Shakespeare and Dickens were classics, to be expected in most regal libraries, but looking closer, Y/n found Bronte and Austen too! Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Hans Christen Anderson’s fairy tales. This place had every book Y/n had ever read or wished to read! 

But something lingered in the back of Y/n’s mind…

If Ophelia cannot read, whose library is this? Who has so tenderly placed every book in alphabetical order, as well as sorted them by genre? Who has spent their time tediously gluing library cards to the inside of the back cover of seemingly every book, and has jotted down when they have been borrowed? Why would anyone ever do that, considering that most of them are read by assumedly the same person, judging by the ever so similar font and pen used to log the date of when the book was picked up and when it was finished?

Before she could finish her thought, the door suddenly opened. Y/n immediately cringed at the situation she was in- she could be caught snooping by Ophelia, oh how mortifying! As the heavy footsteps walked closer and closer to where she was, she weaved through shelves, attempting to find a spot to hide. She tiptoed through before flattening herself against a shelf at the end of the room, far from where the footsteps were heard. The unknown person’s gait was too heavy to be Ophelia’s and- 

Damn! 

If it was not Ophelia, there was only one other person it could be… 

She took a deep, silent breath before creeping her way to the edge of the bookshelf. She went to take a peek and see where the British bastard was, however, when she took one more step and stuck her head out, she was met with his body no more than five inches from hers. 

“AHH!”

“Shit!”

The pair jumped and shrieked for a quick second, not expecting the other to be so damn close. Y/n looked up to see Harry looked down at her with surprise and confusion. Her gaze panned down to his hands, noticing him carrying a brown leather bound book- it was smaller and very worn in. It looked beaten and bruised, like it had been read thousands of times. She couldn't see a title at all, but it wouldn’t matter- the moment he followed her eyes, Harry shoved the book behind his back. Her gaze snapped back up quickly enough to watch vulnerability flash in his eyes, before they set in his usual hardened gaze, infected with scorn.

He barked. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

This wasn’t nonchalant Harry- this wasn't a Harry that was prepared for her attacks. This wasn’t the Harry that used his suave and unaffected demeanour to torment Y/n as he coolly fired shot after shot at her soul. No, this was a more frantic Harry- a more aggressive, threatened Harry. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here!” Y/n explained, her brows furrowing and taking on a defensive tone, hands flying emphatically. 

Harry did not reply at all. The pair stared at each other sharply. It was as if they were having a battle telepathically, staring deep into one another’s unwavering, unblinking eyes, lips pressed shut into little frowns, brows knit, each daring the other to say something more. To poke the bear more. To continue the fight. They stared and they stared until Harry looked her up and down, shaking his head and scoffing, before walking further into the library. 

He seceded first! HA! She won! 

This victory wasn't savoured for long, however- she soon realised how foolish she would look just standing there in Harry’s dust. She didn’t look back to see which way he went and she didn't care- she kicked her body into motion and strode out the front door. Once she was out, however, she pathetically scurried her way back to her room, mortified. Once through the door, she slammed it shut and laid back against the cool wood. She took a couple deep breaths in the safety of the guest room. Now alone, she was able to regain her ability to think.

Harry was holding a book in his hands, before shoving it behind his back? Was he… bashful? What book would have made Harry feel embarrassed?

Further, if it wasn’t Ophelia’s library, there realistically is only one other person it could belong to…

Y/n shook the idea from her head immediately. It definitely couldn’t be Harry’s- not only was he too brutish to read for leisure, but also, the books there were too beautiful, too tenderly cared for- many filled with little annotations. No, Harry could not treat a human decently, let alone a book. He wouldn’t know how! The one in his hand, however. Her heart just couldn’t let that go… 

Maybe that was his? The small, beaten and bruised book. What kind of text would prompt Harry to read it over and over and over again. What words moved him so much that he felt embarrassed to show Y/n. Ofcourse, this was probably for the best- realistically, the pair should both provide as little information of their identities to each other as possible. Less ammunition that way. 

But Y/n, head against the downy pillow filled to the brim with the softest stuffing, lulled by the gentle nose of the lavender oil spritzed on top of the sheets, could not help but innocently wonder if Harry had a favourite book. She always wanted someone to share her love of reading- a simple friend that she could rant and rave to other than her sisters who, despite not possessing the same fire and passion as Y/n when it came to literature, attempted their hardest to understand her speeches and monologues of theory. 

It was not a question- Harry could never be that friend to Y/n…

But God, did Y/n wish that stopped her from imagining a version of him that could be.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

saw some western aus and wanted to throw my proverbial hat in the ring. well. toss it gently. place it down on the edge-

actually no fuck that, slamming down the hat i have Thoughts:

first off, if anything this au should be the silliest looney toons bullshit.

~ of all the revolvers are unloaded. so gunfights are just people saying "bang" at each other and then throwing the nearest thing at their opponent in place of a bullet

~ Wally is the town sheriff, and he's hilariously incompetent. he also has a habit of shoplifting apples from Howdy's saloon / general store fusion. his cowboy hat has a card with an apple on it tucked in the band, but he doesn't wear it, so at nearly all times one of his hands is occupied with holding the hat. also he doesn't wear his badge ever

~ Barnaby is the town deputy, and he's marginally more competent than Wally. however, he doesn't take his job seriously and is usually napping in his chair on the sheriff office porch. sometimes he wears Wally's badge along with his own for funsies

~ also when Howdy catches Wally stealing, he'll call Barnaby over. Barnaby will proceed to arrest and lock up Wally in his own jail until Barnaby feels too bad for leaving him in there and lets him out

~ there is only one horse in town, and its Eddie's so that he can do his delivery runs and get mail from the town over - he has a lil wagon too. Sally has a running gag where she tries to steal the horse, but it completely ignores her and won't budge an inch.

~ on that note, Wally has one of those stick horses. when he needs to chase someone down, he hops on it and Barnaby lifts him by the scruff and runs, gently shaking him up and down to simulate natural horse riding movements. somehow it always works. no one can escape this tactical move

~ the only role i can see for Sally is overly-theatrical outlaw, just as incompetent as Wally. she never succeeds in stealing anything but also never gets caught because, again, Wally is terrible at his job. everyone usually comes outside to watch their wacky "fights" and do nothing about it, including Barnaby. also Julie helps her sometimes

~ Julie i think would be the town banker. she's unusually strict about it and can get kind of scary about technicalities. however the town doesn't really use currency, so they have a point system that they keep careful track of. it would be stickers, but those dont exist. actually fuck that these are puppets, stickers exist and the board is like the gold stars in that one spongebob episode

~ Frank is an entomologist that decided to brave the untamed west to see what new bugs he might discover. what he discovered was dust, scorpions, and an inability to leave the town due to no monies anywhere. he finds entertainment in keeping track of the local ant colonies' wars & affairs, and also complaining at Howdy at the bar

~ everyone complains to Howdy. he has someone at his bar at any given time and he's taken to being incredibly passive aggressive about it. they still have to pay with jokes or favors or whatever they can think of that he'll accept

~ Poppy runs the hotel, where pretty much everyone lives. Julie lives there, Frank lives there, Sally lives there, Wally lives there. Barnaby prefers to sleep in the sheriffs office, as he doesn't want to make the "across the street" commute. Howdy also stays in his saloon/store, and Eddie sleeps in his post office - as canon intended.

~ Home is the mayor. don't ask me if he's a person, an object head, or just a building - i do not know. he's probably still a building. no one can understand what he says

~ oh also Frank is incredibly pressed over the fact that the town's lawfolk suck at their job. he swears he has an aneurysm every time Wally chases Sally down the street on a stick horse, or when blatant crime is happening right in front of a very asleep Barnaby. he is tempted to take over as sheriff, but alas, there are scorpions to be stung by

~ and finally: apple chaps. thats all thanks good day

[cordycepsbian]

can you believe they added leif bug fables to flight rising

[pizza-feverdream]

I spent more time editing the gif than the actual artwork lol

Here's the Boys. They're just some Totally Not Screwed Up Guys

[bonefall]

How do you feel about "character joins bloodclan" aus? Im curious about ur thoughts since youre really in tune with the themes of the series but personally i just hate them bc its ALWAYS aimed at 'unfortunate' characters and always ALWAYS ignores the fact that bloodclan is a horrible place in-canon and that they're just reflavoring the abuse and trauma the characters qent through to be more emo or goth themed.

Ravenpaw is ALWAYS a prime target for this and its like. Great. You took the character being abused by their mentor figure and is being harmed from the violent culture the clan has generated... and giving them an EMO mentor figure who will inevitably abuse them and harm them as a result of the violent culture the emo clan has generated. Sasha is another one I've noticed- you've put the woman who lost her kit and is struggling to survive with the others while being controlled and abused by someone who sees her as an outsider (aka alone and easy to isolate), and are gonna put her in a faction who specifically separates kin from one another to easily control them and who have canonically tried murdering those who stick with their family. What was gained here.

Like i know bloodclan is revamped in ur au (thank god for it) but in canon bloodclan is HORRIBLE. People ignore that in favor of putting their favs into bloodclan bc bloodclan is cool and killed tigerstar that one time bc of revenge. Ravenpaw becomes Scourge AUS are SO SO SO much worse bc of this too- sure you manage to point out how scourge and raven has roughly similar stories in their youth but you could also do something interesting and make an au where raven and scourge are FOILS and do a firestar/scourge thing, while pointing this comparison out!! Instead you just went "Ravenpaw emo now and is sad about beating up Firestar his friend" and basically kept everything the same.

Sorry im basically venting here but i just dont like how people forget that scourge in canon does NOT look out for the 'little guy', he's a murderer and abuser who wants to keep his subjects afraid and separated so that he alone has power over them. Bloodclan is not the cool strong goth group, its the group where two cats slaughter eachother over a piece of twoleg scraps, only for the survivor to die bc the food was poisonous to cats and no one knew bc theres no cohesive group that can pass that knowledge around. its a fucking horrible place to live. Im not saying that you cant do interesting "character in bloodclan" aus (a Rusty who lives in bloodclan who STILL wants to do good but is shaped by the horrid reality of bloodclan would be fun imo) but its so often used with already traumatized characters as a 'solution' or 'fix-it with some emotional issues involved' that i just foam at the mouth and howl like a rabid animal on principle at this point.

Hmm... I think for me, it doesn't tend to read that way for me when the fandom makes AUs for it. I'm coming at BloodClan from a point of really deep critique and frustration.

BloodClan's not a REAL place, and what that means is, every speck of how horrible it was is a choice the writers made to justify its treatment. It was something they actively decided, because, BloodClan was a tool to suddenly invalidate the previous 5 books of TPB so that the series could comfortably conclude there was no need to upset the status quo.

If you haven't read it before, I recommend this post I made on how Darkest Hour Is A Personal Disappointment, but anyway;

We spend a whole series on how Fireheart challenges a broken society, because he is different. Their xenophobia, how isolationism and glory get people killed, the way that Tigerstar's greatest asset is how respected he is... these are bad things. They're things that Fireheart fights for several books.

But then, in the LAST book, in the 11th inning, they introduce BloodClan. They're just evil. They have no nuance. The narrative bends over backwards to stress that this group of evil foreigners LOVES murder, hates friendship, and doesn't believe in our good god.

Suddenly, the Clan cats have to be EXTRA xenophobic and glorious to kill these filthy, murderous foreign hordes. Clan cat belief in their good god makes them stronger than the bloodthirsty barbarians. Firestar kills Scourge and we can feel happy and triumphant about it, when Tigerstar was killed a few chapters ago and given a tragic sendoff.

So, I encourage you to step back from an emotional response to how Filthy and Murderous this group was portrayed, and look at it as a writing choice.

When Tigerstar, known cat-racist and murderer of mixed-race people, is killed by Scourge in self-defense, he is grieved by Firestar and commended for his "good qualities". (and then they retconned in that it was actually secretly revenge all along, not just self defense, so this killing is extra evil)

When Scourge is killed, Firestar just thinks about how it's cool he's not going to heaven, and how all of the previously ferocious BloodClan warriors look so inferior to the forest Clans.

And so, with all that said,

I'm 100% in favor of how the fandom widely looks at this, says, "fuck that" and just makes them the Cool Goth Group. I'd argue pretty strongly that the least nuanced idea of that is still infinitely better than canon.

There was nothing there. It was literally just Xenophobia-Is-JustifiedClan. They literally hated love and friendship and banned families so that Clan cats would look good in comparison. Banned families. You don't get this level of stupid evil from anything else but an 80s cartoon.

Maybe I just don't see the AUs you tend to see (I curate my Tumblr experience very well and generally hang out in more adult-oriented spaces, I can imagine a place like Amino being mostly kids who tend to be immature. Edgelord Angstpiddle is just a normal part of growing up), but every project I see that gives me a glimpse of BloodClan Ravenpaws and Sashas come with such tweaks already assumed.

Like, these are examples I've seen,

They'll have Raven be involved with the formation of BloodClan

Scourge will actually be a character with some pity and mercy, like how he was in Rise of Scourge when his abusive siblings begged him for food, and he fed them before sending them away.

no ban on love and friendship. Lol. Lmao, even.

More of the social structure will be based around acquiring food for people in a 'harsh' environment, leading to that battle, instead of just Evil Foreign Greed (which canon!scourge only had after being almost killed by tigerstar, because he said "actually, in light of new information that you are a murderer, i need to reconsider our deal.")

BloodClan will be overhauled completely. I've seen this a few ways. Connecting them to SkyClan, or the Oakstar raids on Chelford, or even as a positive entity; a surprise ally. (VERY common with BloodClan Ravenpaw AUs I've seen).

Anyways... (Shrug), I dunno dude, it doesn't bother me that much.

[theratshaveinvaded]

Random doodles are fun.

Also the comic strip with Glados popping off Wheatley’s head, DO NOT WORRY HE IS NOT HURT! His android head is easily detachable! However Glados didn’t know that at the time and she was actually just trying to rip his head off in the hopes he would shut up (He did stop talking, unfortunately he just started screaming instead).

Potential Chell design below???

[fuzzylilteagoblin]

They’re all just silly little lads who deserve to do their silly little lad things in peace 🐞🐛🪲🐜 (except for mosquitoes, I hate those fuckers) (edit for all those concerned: I do understand and respect the fact mosquitoes are an integral part of the eco system, i am in no way suggesting they should all die. I do however have light hearted beef with the frequency that they choose me as their lunch.)