#but obviously if she's putting out two books a year she's on a pretty tight schedule and since her books are popular

[the-hype-dragon]

ok I am a hater but it would do a lot of people who make "literary criticism" content a lot of good not to have bad faith readings of every stupid little word an author puts on paper

like I remember reading a sporking/blow-by-blow of some cassie clare book here on tumblr years ago, this character was saying shit that you were obviously supposed to find objectionable--because he was a villain and he was saying it to his traumatized mother who felt like a bad mom already because of the crap her husband pulled on her in the backstory--but then the person writing this critique went off on this tangent talking about how oh no ladies you aren't a bad mom just because of this that and the other thing and I was sitting there like, are you for fucking real right now, like they were acting like cc was sitting here saying "oh yes, this obvious bad guy is totally parroting my own opinions about women and moms in particular" I felt like I was idk I felt like I was going kinda crazy

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

Azriel x Third-oldest-archeron-sibling!reader

a/n: I was in the mood for a writing a heated argument that turns into an even hotter make-out session, but then it got slightly depressing so…

warning: slight angst but not much because I can’t take that emotionally :’)

word count: 3,888

-Part 2[*]-

“How was she today?”

You fight the urge to clench your jaw. The harsh snapping of your book is the limit to how far you’ll allow the leash on your anger to slip. Jealousy? Frustration? Whatever complicated nonsense he’s gotten you tangled up in.

“No hello? What about a how are you today?” You ask tersely. So much for keeping your emotions on a tight leash. His brow narrows a little—you don’t usually bubble over when he asks how your older sister is doing. “You weren’t practically bed-ridden for months,” he replies slowly, gauging your response carefully.

Instantly, guilt weighs in the pit of your stomach, and you look away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you soothe hastily. Gods, why did you say that to him? You’re trying to gain his favour, not make him think you’re an ungrateful, self-absorbed sister. “She was fine. We did some baking—well, Elain did some baking, I was reading something. It’s a new book, actually! Because I finished the last one, which was actually pretty good, but this one I think is set in the last war and…” you trail off when you notice the patient smile he’s giving you.

Right. He’s not interested in what book you’re reading, or how you spent the day. He’s not interested in you full stop. He’s interested in Elain. You fight the way disappointment wants to twist the edges of your mouth, instead plastering on a smile that you hope he reads as oops, look at me! There I go again, haha.

“Well,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat, “she made some cupcakes—I think they were vanilla, and she put something that looked like jam inside. Really good. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to try one—if you ask,” you smile, adding in the details he wants to hear. For the Spymaster, he’s surprisingly open about his interest in Elain to you. But maybe that’s because you’re always so willing to answer any question you can for him.

“I’m glad,” he says, something glimmering in his hazel eyes. “And there were no silent spots? No abrupt changes?” You return your attention to the book in your hands, fingers running over the bound edges, “she was fine all the way. You never would have guessed everything she’s been through.” He hums, pleased with her progress. It’s a sound of contentment, from the back of his throat that you’re certain rumbles throughout his chest. It’s an effort to keep your attention on the book.

It’s been more than two years since the three of you were tossed into the Cauldron. Feyre and Rhysand are happy, Nesta’s made progress on healing herself and is now alarming in love with Cassian, Elain’s taking large steps in a good direction, too. You remember vividly the time when she would hardly utter a word for days, hardly shift her gaze from a strange spot in the middle-distance, how worried she made you and Nesta. And Feyre, obviously, but things were a little…strange at the time. They always had been.

You spent the first few months struggling to hold a meal down, often being wracked with spasms of anxiety and flushes of hot and cold. There was a time you would black out if you stood up too fast, and now you can hold down three meals a day without needing to run to the nearest latrine provided you don’t eat too quickly. You feel like yourself again, but fresher. You know you aren’t the same as you were, though. Not after the Cauldron, but you had no choice but to adapt. With eternity ahead of you, you couldn’t stand the thought of spending it weakened and frail—hardly capable of standing without feeling dizzy.

Maybe you are a little jealous that Elain’s getting all the attention. She’d always been the centre of Nesta’s attention, and while you were on fairly good terms with your oldest sister throughout your childhood, you were no competition for her sharp mind and sharper tongue. Feyre was the wild one, Elain the pretty one, Nesta the cunning one—then there was you.

What’s your place in your dysfunctional family?

“It’s good she seems to be steadily improving,” Azriel says, breaking you from your inner thoughts. You nod dutifully, agreeing with him. “She smiled for most of it, too,” you add, remembering how pleased she’d been when they came out how she wanted—after numerous attempts. “Though she was covered in flour—her hair was practically white!” You laugh fondly, covering your mouth with your hand.

A faint smile appears on his lips and, for just a moment, you let yourself pretend he’s smiling at the sound of your laugh.

But that’s all you have to report back to him, and even if you’ve pleased him, he’ll be finding an excuse to slip off now that he knows she’s been fine. You’ll admit, it’s difficult to remember she’s your sister when he so clearly would choose her over you. It’s not even a competition.

So you swallow your nerves, tuck your hands behind your back and peer up at him. “Hey, you read right?” You ask, keeping a pleasant smile on your lips—lest he think you’re too eager. He blinks out of whatever thought he was having, clearing his gaze as he looks down at you, then nods. “I’ve been known to pick up a book from time to time,” he answers. He’s in a good mood, it seems.

“Do you have a favourite?” You ask, tipping your head at a slight angle, appearing to look at the books stacked on the shelves. “I feel like I’ve been rereading the same story over and over again and want to try something else.”

“You’re asking me to pick just one?” He replies, quirking his brow. The smile that comes to your mouth isn’t as fake, or as controlled as you would like—it stretches your lips thin, showing the gaps either side of the top row of your teeth.

“Okay, give me a couple to have a nose at. So if one bores me to tears, I can pick up another,” you laugh gently, pulling the book tight to your chest, worried you’re showing too much. Does he know how your days often centre around whether he’ll seek you out? The too-short conversations that often revolve around your sister?

“Does Elain read?” He asks, tentatively, and it’s like a stone to your cheek. You clutch the book tighter to your chest, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “I can ask her? Subtly, of course,” you force a smile, fingers digging into the spine of the book. He shakes his head, “I’ll do it. I’d like to see how she’s doing for myself.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “to be fair, she might be sick of them for how long she was in here last year. They might be an eyesore by now,” you laugh softly. But instead he frowns disapprovingly, like you shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense. And suddenly that urge appears, the urge to confront him about his behaviour—why he never talks to you for you.

“Azriel…?” You say, the smile slipping from your lips, though your make sure your eyes still sparkle a little, keeping them partially crinkled. But then you bite the inside of your lip, and the rest of the mask fades, leaving you raw, and more than a bit scared. If you overthink it, it’ll never get done.

“Why do you…I don’t feel like you ever…like we ever talk. Us,” you say, then flush at the word—so intimate. Us. “What do you mean?” He asks, standing sturdy before you. A seed of frustration sprouts within, but you push the irritation away. “I just…You’re always asking me about Elain.” His brow narrows a bit, and you want to take the words back.

“What else?”

You look up at him, all beauty and classical grace, and such unearthly, ethereal lines and angles to him you wish you knew how to paint like Feyre. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” You ask, a little hurt.

“I mean, is there something else you want to talk about?” He asks, gently. Carefully.

My book would be nice. I’d like you to ask how I’m doing today, how I’m feeling, what I want to do.

“Something that doesn’t involve my sister, would be nice,” you laugh, giving him a smile that reads, can you really blame me for not wanting to talk about Elain all the time? He doesn’t smile like you’d hoped, but frowns. “Do you not like her?” He asks instead, “did something happen between you two?”

“No,” you say hurriedly. “No—nothing happened, we’re fine. Right as rain. It’s just…you always ask after her, and I feel like that’s the only reason you approach me.” You swallow, having begin to put the truth out there for him. “You seem fine talking about other things with Feyre and Nesta, but I can’t remember the last time we talked about something that wasn’t my sister, and I… I don’t really…” You trail off, watching him nervously.

His frown only deepens as he takes you in. “I’m asking out of concern for her well-being, you understand that, don’t you?” He asks.

“I know, I know, but…are you?” You reply, managing to reign in your wince at the blunt question. When he only looks at you without response, you push forward. “I mean, you…you like her, don’t you? That’s why you ask all these questions? Why you care more than the others do?” You say, fighting to keep your voice even as the words come out. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you quickly amend, “but, you know, it would be nice to talk to you for you. And you for me. And, you know, she does have a…mate, so, I just thought—”

“What did you think?”

You blink at the sharp tone, his eyes colder than before, more sealed off. Still, you square your shoulders, keeping the book tucked tight against your front. “Well, that, maybe, it would be better to try somewhere else? Instead of investing in someone who’s practically already taken?”

“She doesn’t love him.”

“I know she says that, but—”

“But nothing,” he says, brow narrowing. “The mating bond can’t force someone to fall in love. If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t have to have him.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet beneath his penetrating gaze. “Feyre and Rhys worked out,” you manage, eyes flitting away from his, focusing on the book in your hands. “And she didn’t love him at first.” The paper’s old and crisp—worn with age. “Then Nesta and Cassian also got together, too,” you add, the pads of your fingers dragging over the pages, “and you saw what Nesta was like. How badly she was struggling. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere but destruction, but—”

“Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?”

Again you blink at him, caught off guard by the ice in his tone. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to pursue her, Azriel,” you appease—try to. “I’m just saying maybe you could try looking…elsewhere, you know? Maybe try something with someone else? That won’t end badly?”

“You don’t know it will end badly,” he replies, all former warmth gone, no trace of it in his beautifully designed features. “It will for someone. Even if you and Elain do somehow end up together, what about Lucien? If it were Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cass, would you think it okay for someone to try and separate them? When they were chosen to be together?”

“Bad pairings happen. Rhys’ parents are a fine example.”

“Yes, but they’re rather suited for one another, don’t you think?” You ask, pushing forward, “Elain’s always excelled at social events. She easily settles into the flow of conversation—she knows what to say, and how to act to put people at ease around her. And Lucien does the same. He knows how to draw ties between people where there seem to be none, just like her. He knows how to keep conversation flowing without pushing it, how to keep things at the right pace, just like her.”

“While you…” you pause, and his jaw tightens.

“Go on,” he says icily, “tell me why think I’m undeserving of her.”

“I don’t think its a case of deserving, Azriel,” you say quickly. “But you…well, you try to blend into any corner you can when there are more than three people in the room.”

His brow narrows, “I didn’t realise you’d been keeping tabs on me.”

“Yes, well, you’re the only one I’m interested in, so.” Your voice is soft, bladed, honed. Resigned. You lips press into a thin line as your eyes flicker away from his, too embarrassed to look even in his general vicinity. You had never anticipated laying your heart to bare to be so…scary? Terrifying?

Anti-climactic.

Admitted in such a quiet, understated way. As if he isn’t the first one you’ve ever felt so strongly for. As if he isn’t the first one who’s given you a vague understanding of why some women were so happy to do whatever their husbands told them. Why they were so happy to live in subservience, and why that’s not what it was.

“You think you’re deserving of me?” He asks, coldly. Shame and embarrassment heat your features, but you manage to shoot back, “do you think you’re deserving of her?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to prevent yourself from being intimidated by his height, and muscle, and beauty, and overall damned attractiveness that makes you weak in the knees.

His upper lip twitches in a repressed snarl, anxiety spiking in your chest. “Answer my question,” he says, softly, an edge to his voice. You swallow, “answer mine.” You’ve never demanded something from someone before, but it’s out there now, and it feels surprisingly good to insist on something for yourself.

He regards you silently, and it takes a remarkable strength to stand still beneath his icy gaze—knowing that he’s judging what he’s seeing. Weighing if you’re worth his answer.

“I think I gave a hint of my interest for her,” he says, eyes glittering with something cold that you’re unaccustomed to have turned on yourself. “And she reciprocated with her own signs.” He stares you down, unyielding, and powerful, and you want to run and hide. “What about you?”

You purse your lips to keep them from trembling as heat crawls beneath your skin with humiliation. But—no. Get over it. Make it through. Survive something else. “I think I’m tired, and hurt from knowing that you only talk to me because you want to know how my sister is doing,” you confess, voice wobbling. “I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.”

There’s no bite to your words, and they come out softer and weaker than you had expected. You feel tired, and drained. Eyelids heavy and heart rate spiking every other beat, numerous crescent shaped indentations on the heel of your palms.

“Maybe you’d be better off turning your affections somewhere they’d be appreciated,” he says, icily. Your heart aches, and it takes a few humiliating moments for you to gather yourself enough that you won’t burst into tears when you again find your voice. “That’s all you have to say?” You manage, fingers trembling behind your back.

“Maybe if you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest,” he snarls softly, eyes glittering with cold rage.

It feels like a smack to the face, a punch to your stomach. Your eyes go wide, then blur, hot pressure building steadily. You dig your nails into the binding of your book, and move to walk past him—at least preserve what little dignity is still intact by refusing to let him see you cry. He already barely sees you as a woman, you won’t win any points with your blubbering. He wants a female, not a girl.

But he seems to realise what he’s said and turns, gripping your upper arm to keep you from leaving. You allow him to stop you, if only because demanding he let you go would show your tears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, and you can hear the pity in his voice. “I spoke in anger, I did not mean to upset—”

“Get those hands off me,” you snarl, turning on him with defensive ire blazing in your pupils. Rage fresh from the forges.

He recoils as if you burned him. Retreats a step.

“Not nice, is it? Targeting someone’s insecurity—rubbing salt into an open wound?” You snap, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm back to yourself. “Don’t come asking me for updates on Elain again. I don’t want to talk to you if your only interest is in getting between her legs.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you debate just running from the library—you can feel the storm in him brewing, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him. But he doesn’t wait for you to decide, because the storm breaks right then and there. “At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed,” he says softly, hazel piercing into you. “Can you say the same?”

Mortification flushes your skin, mouth parting in humiliation. “I—…This is inappropriate,” you hiss to hide your burning shame. Because no, it’s always been Elain and Nesta to be pursued. His eyes gleam, reading your thoughts clear as day in your expression. “Thought not.”

Pain twists viciously across your chest, heart strings being plucked within an inch of snapping—pulled taught around your throat. “If I’ve never taken a man to bed, it is not because I am unwanted. Rather that I would not waste my self nor my time on someone I was not sure about. That I did not want with everything I have,” you whisper hoarsely—the final layer stripped bare for him to slice and dissect.

But then he steps forward, and without thinking, you yield a step. He’s not perturbed, and takes another. “You admit you have no experience in bed, yet think you could handle me?” He snarls softly, wings flaring ever so slightly at his back, shadows thickening. “I don’t think it’s a matter of handling you, Azriel.” His name is a little more than a whisper from your mouth. One he tracks eagerly.

“No?” He asks, stepping forward again, slowly herding you. “Then what?” You swallow, trying to stand your ground, but the sense of him is so overpowering, he threatens to obliterate every ounce of your own self. “I think it would be a matter of learning. And if you think I’m unprepared, then Elain is definitely no better off, so that clearly isn’t your issue.”

“At least she’s shared the bed of a man before, at least she would know what to do.” You don’t correct him that you have, in fact, shared a bed with a male before. A few in fact, by this point. Nesta’s the bad influence. He steps forward again, and he’s towering over you, hazel glittering between his shadows. “At least she wouldn’t lose her head over the slightest touch.”

And then his hands have landed softly on your hips, and your head is silent. Only his touch on your body, his warmth on your skin, seeping into your clothes. Does he find your shape pleasing? Is he feeling this mind-numbing shock? The tingling at his fingertips where they’re pressing into you?

For a too-long moment you just stare at him, thoughts eddying about without a destination, floating throughout your conscious.

“Still in there?” He taunts quietly, pushing you back, turning you gently as he feels the heat radiating from your skin, the stiffness to your body beneath his touch. It’s only when a hard, wooden shelf digs into the base of your spine that you realise he’s pushed you against the case. You open your mouth—to say what, you don’t know. He beats you to it either way. “You want to prove you haven’t already lost your mind?” He says softly, voice like a lover’s touch. You can do nothing but stare at him, panting softly, completely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, or I’ll keep going. Say no, and it finishes,” he murmurs, keeping you pressed tight between his hips and the book case. “But I think you’ve already lost.”

You blink up at him, hardly a thought behind your eyes.

In the back of your mind, you’re struggling frantically to decode his words, translate them into something that makes sense. And then his challenge clicks, and you take a sudden, deep breath. You need to tell him to stop, to show him you’re still in control of yourself—that you haven’t lost your head over the slightest touch.

But then his mouth latches over yours, tongue prying your lips apart, and your efforts of rebellion are washed away. You go all warm, and soft, and pliable in his hands, melting like butter as you coat him. His piercing hazel eyes lock with yours as his mouth slants, one hand rising to the curve of your spine, pulling you against his front.

How are you supposed to stand against him when he annihilates everything that you are with the softest brush of his fingers—fingers that are now tracing up the path of your spine, reaching that final notch as they tangle with delicious pressure in your hair. His gaze cuts into you as his tongue drags across your own, flicking at the roof of your mouth.

He’s utterly unruffled, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting into flame right there, setting him ablaze in the process.

But then you’re again subverting his expectations, your hands flying over his shoulders as you tilt your head to allow him deeper. The only sign of surprise he allows is a blink of his eyes, but you’re already lifting onto your tiptoes—the swell of your breasts dragging over his chest in a way you must’ve learned males like. But where would you have learned?

Your arms tighten, then your hips are pressing against him, and—you’re fighting back, he realises. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels excitement flare deep inside him as you stride to meet him. No matter that you aren’t Elain: he’s hungry, and you can make your own decisions. If you want him to stop, you need only say the word, and he’ll be off you. But if you don’t…well, he’s not going to be the one who backs out first.

He has a damn point to prove—that you have no idea what you’re getting into with him.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

[yournowheregirl]

Eddie used to be a pretty fearless person.

He ran red lights almost on the daily, provoked his bullies while his bruises from the last run-in were still healing and agreed to shady drug deals in the dead of night.

Having a kid changed all that.

As soon as Hayley was born, Eddie found himself riddled with anxiety every waking moment of the day. Scared to drop her, scared she’d get sick, scared she’d break something, scared that someone’d take her from the playground if he looked away for just one second. Even Wayne had to pry Hayley out of his arms when he had to go back to work and assure him that everything would be fine.

Lucky for Eddie, none of those fears ever came true. Until today.

They’d just gone through Hayley’s night time routine - reading a chapter of that Narnia book Jeff had gotten her, singing her good night song together, kissing her forehead and sharing I love you's - and Eddie’s about to close her bedroom door when Hayley’s squeaky voice suddenly speaks up.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, sweet pea?”

“I wanna join the soccer team.”

And just like that, with six little words, one of Eddie’s personal horrors suddenly becomes a reality.

His daughter is a jock.

“Uh, let’s… let’s talk about that in the morning, okay? Sleep tight!” Eddie says quickly and closes the door behind him.

As soon as he knows Hayley’s fast asleep, he dials one of the two numbers he knows by heart.

“Hello?"

“What have you done to my daughter?” Eddie seethes.

“Well, hi to you too, Eddie.” Chrissy says on the other side of the line. “What’s up?”

“Hayley wants to join the soccer team and it’s all your fault, Chris!” Eddie is pacing up and down his living room now, trying to calm himself down without reaching for his cigarettes - he quit when Hayley was born and this is not going to be the reason that’ll end his seven year streak.

“And how is that my fault, exactly?”

“You- you have poisoned her mind with your jock ways! Hayley isn’t a jock! She likes dragons and castles and fantasy worlds, as is her right as my daughter. I mean, her middle name is Arwen for fuck’s sake, being a nerd is in her goddamn DNA!”

“Okay, Eddie, breathe.” Chrissy says calmly. “Hayley’s always been a curious kid, it’s in her nature. She always wants to try new things and then move on to the next big thing. Remember how she wanted to become a drummer after she saw Gareth play? And then she abandoned the drum kit after two weeks?”

“Right.”

“Maybe this is just another phase, maybe she overheard some classmates and wanted to join in on the fun.” Chrissy says. “Just take her to try outs and see what happens, there’s always a chance she doesn’t like it.”

Eddie lets himself fall onto the couch. He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs in defeat. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“I’m always right, Eddie, how have you not learned this yet?” Chrissy giggles.

Which is how Eddie finds himself waking up at the crack of dawn that next Saturday. Well, he was supposed to sleep in for another thirty minutes or so but Hayley was so excited about try-outs that her high pitched screams and jumping on his bed woke him up regardless.

Hayley’s excitement carries on during breakfast and she barely keeps still as Eddie braids her hair. She’s even dead serious about the color of her hair ties, saying that they have to match the colors of the soccer team (aptly named the Purple Cobras, so obviously the hair ties have to be purple as well).

And any other morning, Eddie is trailing behind his daughter, making sure she hurries up so they’ll get to school on time, but not today. Now, she’s already got her coat on and bouncing from one foot to another in the hallway and calling him out instead.

“Dad, come on!” Hayley whines. “We’re gonna be late.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Eddie huffs as he puts on his trusty leather jacket - if he’s gonna freeze his balls off by being outside all morning, at least he’s gonna do it in style. He can’t help but laugh at Hayley, who’s now jumping up and down from excitement. “Geez, you better save some energy for the try-outs.”

“Can we go now?” Hayley sighs and scrunches her nose in annoyance and yeah, she really is his kid.

“One ride in the Munson Mobile, coming right up!”

Hayley doesn’t shut up about the intricacies of soccer the entire drive to the local soccer club, apparently Chrissy (the traitor) had helped her read up on the rules and now obviously Eddie had to know all about them as well.

Half of what Hayley’s saying flies over his head, partly because he’s never really cared for sports but mostly because he can feel his anxiety growing with every passing second.

What if Hayley gets injured? What if some tackles her and she breaks her leg? Or worse?

What if she is an amazing player and she needs all these fancy soccer supplies and training clinics and Eddie’s forced to get another job to just to keep them afloat?

What if she’s weak at sports, just like Eddie was while growing up, and all the other kids will make fun of her and laugh behind her back?

What if-

“Dad, look, we’re here!”

The van barely comes to a screeching halt and Hayley’s already halfway out the door when Eddie grabs her by the collar and pulls her back into her seat. This obviously annoys Hayley, judging by the furious look on her face. If Eddie was a weaker man, he would’ve cowered in fear, but he invented that look so he barely feels a thing.

“Sweet pea, listen to your dear old dad for a minute, alright?” Eddie says softly. “I know you really wanna be on the soccer team but it’s still okay if you don’t make the team, you know that right? I won’t love you any less if you don’t make it or you don’t like it, just try your best, okay?”

Hayley’s face turns serious, as if the words are slowly sinking in. “Okay.”

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asks, holding out his pinky finger. Within a split second, Hayley’s tiny finger links around him and she sends him a toothy smile.

“Pinky promise.”

“C’mon, let’s kick these kids’ butts!”

Hayley giggles. “You’re supposed to kick the ball, dad.”

“Oh, right, silly me.” Eddie grins and follows his daughter outside.

But right as his anxiety has died down, it comes flooding right back as soon as Eddie lays eyes on the soccer field. There are so many kids. So many balls being kicked at full speed, with no time to duck. So many sneering soccer moms who look at him like he’s the devil incarnate. So many dangers just waiting around the corner and Eddie just want to turn on his heel and run. Hayley’s inevitable temper tantrum be damned, at least she’ll be in one piece and-

“Hayley Arwen Munson?”

Both Eddie and Hayley whip their heads around at the same time, only to be greeted by one of the coaches and shit- Eddie’s suddenly very interested in soccer.

With a chiseled jaw, soft hazel eyes and broad shoulders, the coach looks like he belongs in a Calvin Klein ad rather than a little league soccer field. He’s wearing a wind breaker, white knee socks and bright purple shorts (that cling deliciously tight around his thighs), which shouldn’t work on him but it does and Eddie just can’t look away.

Hayley (thankfully) doesn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and instead happily waves at Hot Coach. “Over here!”

The coach writes something on the clipboard and walks towards them, crouching down in front of Hayley. “Hi Hayley, I’m coach Steve, nice to meet you. You here to try out for the soccer team?”

“Yes!” Hayley replies brightly.

“Well good, you can say hi to coach Robin and the other girls and I’ll be there in a sec, okay?”

“Okay.” Hayley nods and turns to Eddie. “Bye dad!”

“Hold up, hold up, hold up.” Eddie says quickly, once again grabbing the back of her t-shirt to keep her from running off. He kneels down in front of her, trying to look her in the eye. “Be careful, okay, baby? And if you don’t like it you can just yell and I come and get you, no questions asked. And if your laces get loose, you can yell too, literally if anything goes wrong you can-”

“Dad…” Hayley interrupts him and puts her tiny hand onto his shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Eddie laughs and ducks his head. God, this is like kindergarten all over again, when Hayley just skipped to Miss Coleman without a care in the world and Eddie was sobbing into Wayne’s shoulder as he watched her go.

“I know it will be, sweet pea.” Eddie says softly, pressing a kiss to Hayley’s forehead. She takes that as her cue to go, skipping across the field towards the gaggle of girls that surround another one of the coaches.

Eddie feels his heart burst as he sees Hayley smiling as she greets the other girls, she seems to fit right in. He sighs deeply and stands up, trying to keep his eyes on Hayley, when a voice suddenly speaks up.

“Arwen.”

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps because shit, he totally forgot that Coach Steve was still there as well. “Yeah, she’s named Arwen. What about it?"

Eddie wants to eat his foot as soon as he utters the words. He’s always been defensive when it comes to Hayley, being a single dad who doesn’t look like your standard suburban dad next door will do that to you. But to do it in front of a cute guy like that? It makes him want to kick himself. Repeatedly.

But much to his surprise, Steve doesn’t seem to mind all that much. In fact, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. “That’s from Lord of the Rings, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Eddie replies dumbly. He feels his walls lowering down - holy shit, this Steve guy is hot and he knows Lord of the Rings? If they weren’t around a bunch of kids right now, Eddie would’ve dropped to his knees already.

“Cute.” Steve chuckles and are Eddie’s eyes deceiving him or is Steve actually checking him out? Before he gets a chance to wrap his head around all that, Steve gestures back to the field. “Well, I gotta jet. Soccer waits for no one. See you around, Mr. Munson.”

“Ew, no. Mr. Munson is my dad.” Eddie winces, remembering all the times his neighbor growing up came by to help Wayne out and refuses to call him by his first name. “I’m Eddie.”

“Well then,” Steve smirks as he walks backwards. “see you around, Eddie.”

As Eddie tries to look like a normal human being instead of a total creep - which proves to be terribly difficult when Steve turns around and puts his ass on fully display in those damn shorts - he slowly begins to realize one thing.

Maybe Hayley’s decision to join the soccer team is the best idea she had in a long time.

[crepezinhos]

Kaeya’s and Diluc’s Magazine

KAEYA’S POV: You are Kaeya’s girlfriend and you two work together for the Knights of Favonius. You’ve recently sent into a mission without him and he’s missing you so much his brains gave him the perfect idea to satisfy his longing for it.

DILUC’S POV: You are Diluc’s wife and you two work together for the Dawn Winery. During an event at his home, Diluc felt a really weird Déjà vu when he saw you wearing a maid dress to fit the event and discovered through what it was.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is obviously a NSFW piece

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains mentions of people enjoying pornography

— Contains kinky topics such as: masturbation, strip-teasing, blow jobs and roleplaying

KAEYA ALBERICH:

Kaeya isn't the kind of guy to masturbate frequently at all since he would have sex with you whenever you both felt horny. But you've been on that stupid mission Jean sent you for almost a month and Kaeya was starting to become impatient. He's a little addicted in having sex, but not enough to cheat on you or do bad things just to feel the sensation. So, for now, his only option was to wait for you to come back.

Kaeya sighed as he sat down in his bed. It was late and he needed to sleep early, but he just wasn't feeling sleepy. He missed you sleeping by his side or on top of his chest, your smooches, your smile... but for some reason, his sexual desires were screaming way louder. Kaeya shook his head trying to replace the beautiful memories he had with you, with quick flashbacks of the last time you guys had sex, about a week before the mission started. It was a simple quickie against the wall in his room, but that surprisingly was enough to get him excited.

His crotch slightly pulsed, urging for more, and Kaeya obeyed his body's wishes and dug further in search of more memories of you two having sex.

The more he'd remember, the more his body wished, so Kaeya just wouldn't stop digging.

But the perfect idea came to his mind.

You know... Kaeya's flirty personality started to grow on him when he became a teenager and started to experience hormones. He was silly, perverted and annoying enough to keep joking with his big brother Diluc's crush at that time: Jean, telling him dirty thoughts between Diluc and her, knowing he was too shy and embarrassed to admit he had his desires. But the peak of his puberty was when he decided to shoplift a porn magazine from a store with the unintentional help of his brother, that fell on the trick for being too innocent. It wasn't THAT pornographic. The magazine only had pictures of women suggestively posing in kinky outfits with dick-shaped objects. It didn't have boobs, lower parts or too much skin exposed at all, but the directors obviously made it teasing so the men would wish more and more to see what was under those clothes and buy more and more of their magazines.

Where did Kaeya hide it, you ask? Right under his feet! He wasn't dumb enough to simply put it under his bed or mix with other books in a shelf, he put it under his floor! As soon as that memory ticked in his mind, he jumped out of the bed and crawled in his 4s, immediately starting to quickly run and click the planks with his hands, looking for the trembly one. Once he felt one go shake up and down way too much for a simple click, he hooked the plank and threw it to a corner behind him of the room. The magazine jumped and bounced as a result of being closed tight after so many years. And as he finally put his both hands into it and pulled it out vertically, his eyes shone and a hand of dust fell out of the magazine.

Oh... what a relief! It wasn't damaged at all! No foldings in the corners, no cuts or holes, only the colors were damaged by time and were now pretty vintage. But Kaeya is a fan of it, so a smirk appeared.

He didn't waste his time and jumped back to his spot on his bed. Legs already spread open and page 1 opened. His smirk widened in nostalgia as he saw the first women in that pair of pages, but a flashback of him seeing the bunny girl in page 45 for the first time and falling in love with her beauty immediately, unconsciously led him to open the magazine on that page, skipping all the other ones.

And there she was! A white woman with her back arched, butt and a smirky face facing the reader while holding on a strip pole. Kaeya closed his lips and eyes, imagining the same woman but as his lover, pulling his dick out of his pants and leaning down at the same time. You looked terrifically sexy, especially because he could imagine your buttocks slowly moving. He decided to go further and made your back arch more and more into his direction, making his vision of your pussy grow, alongside the speed of his hands.

He also started making you say a lot of dirty things he always wanted to hear from you to influence his hands to go faster.

"Do you like what you see, Kaeya?" You said, giving emphasis to his name as you leaned your ass closer to him to it's limit. Neither you or Kaeya knew that he loved when his name came out of your mouth when it's sexual. It was his first time "hearing" you do it. Now he could only see your brown buttocks, the black pantie area of the suit barely covering your pussy and a hole between it and your tights where he could easily slide his cock into.

"Hummm... yes..." He moaned and his head arched back in the pillow as he changed his hand shape to make it look like he was thrusting your tights. An "O" shape with his middle finger and thumb. "Oh Y/N... you look so glamorous..." He pressed the magazine with his other unoccupied hand against his chest.

"And what if I did this..?" Your image said as it turned to Kaeya and kneeled in front of him.

Your unconscious movements caught him by surprise and were perfectly copying the image of the woman in page 69. That was a special page because of its number where there were many images of girls in 69 position with objects simulating dicks. Kaeya opened his eyes, taking a look at his own strength working to make feel him pleasure before pulling back the magazine to his face and sliding some pages. He managed to stop right at the page, so he instantly met an image of a nurse licking a fat syringe nearby the "patient's" pelvis in 69 position. Oh Christ, that made him groan... only if he had you doing that to him on that costume at the moment...

But that wasn't what you were doing on his previous image. So Kaeya slides some pages back in search of an image that looked like you and stopped at page 17 accidentally. The page only had a single picture of a bunny girl supposedly moving her big boobs up and down with a strip pole in the middle of them, simulating what Kaeya was doing: masturbation. That was a trigger to immediately change the image of you to exactly what the woman in the picture was doing.

"What do you prefer, Kaeya?" You asked, still kneeling and no context, with your both hands sneaking between your tights, waiting impatiently for his answer.

"Mouth... use your mouth..." He groaned in exhaustion of repeating the same movement over and over quickly. Sweat was beginning to run down his face.

His eyes opened again, in search of an image to simulate what your image was about to do. He remembered that in page 18 the same woman was licking a carrot suggestively. He carefully slid a page there she was. He moaned loudly in surprise and his eyes shut down immediately. There you were, licking his dick like a toy. Kaeya was already beginning to get close to his climax, so as long as he was loving to touch his dick with an O-shaped hand, he had to undo it because of the extra energy it needed. Every single second had effort put into it, so your image wouldn't suddenly disfigure and change to anything else when he was in such a serious moment.

But unfortunately, that was about to end with the closure of his climax. He sat up, focusing more in the moment. He didn't know how would he prevent his cum from blowing all over his recently put white sheet. But honestly, he couldn't care less, that wouldn't stop him from doing it at all.

He put the magazine aside, smashing it into the bed with his free and, that contributed as a support for his position. He didn't have energy to moan anymore, so his noises reduced to quick breathless hicks. And when he finally felt it, he leaned forward and put both his hands on top of his tip, preventing his cum from exploding everywhere.

His body collapsed in the bed after the feeling was over. Christ... that was exhausting.

After a very long sigh, he finally got up and walked to the bathroom to wash his hands. He also brushed his hair since it looked very unstable after that moment and finally returned to his bed.

He obviously felt tired but still not enough to sleep, somehow. So, before he actually tried sleeping, he decided to take a look at the entire magazine, for the nostalgia feeling after almost 20 years.

DILUC RAGVINDR:

Diluc is also not the type of guy to masturbate frequently. He isn't as sexually active as his brother, but still is a very kinky man when you two have sex. It's his ultimate dark secret, he doesn't even tell you the stuff he'd like to try for the sake of tradition. But, today, his instincts were screaming louder.

He's trying his best, he needs to finish those paperworks by tomorrow, but the images he was having were begging him to give hisself a break of work.

What happened? Well... today there was a festival in Mondstadt located at his winery and the female volunteers or participants had to wear a maid dress to fit the event. Technically, there really was nothing wrong with it, the dresses weren't inappropriate at all. But still, when Diluc saw his wife dressing it, he felt something... he couldn't describe it, but like a memory trying to break into his mind after many, MANY years. Most of the time, his eyes were staring at you, wondering what was so special on you wearing that dress. Until...

"Dude, you realize you've been staring at her this entire time, right?" The familiar voice of his brother scared him for a brief moment and he got angry at what Kaeya pointed out, but preferred to not answer.

"She kinda looks like-... actually, never mind." Kaeya suggested and Diluc was shocked to see Kaeya recognizing it faster than him.

"What? Tell me."

"Hum... I'm not really sure... it's kinda disres-"

"I don't care. Say it."

"Ok, ok! Do you remember that magazine we had when we were 16?" Diluc's eyes widened in shock and anger.

But... that's what Diluc has been looking for that entire time. The dresses really seemed identical, the pornographic ones were just way more slutty. Now... his problems start here. You and most of the maids were using brown leggings that censored most of the original color of your skin and he wondered if you were using a lingerie underneath that dress. He wanted to pull your dress up to see your pair of tights, but his brother was more worrying right now.

"How do you remember that..?" Diluc asked with a little bit of disgust.

"The maids were your favorite... I caught you simping for those maids MULTIPLE times." He answered truthfully but couldn't avoid the silly, low laughs.

Diluc's puzzle was finally completed. The image that he was looking for, came fresh just like it used to be when Diluc first read the magazine.

His favorite image. The one he'd always picture in his head when he was horny. The one he used to view Jean in.

It was a maid with her back arched and holding a broom as a support. There was a text above her "Punish me, master!" that perfectly matched her childishly teary face. There was also a man in the picture using a suit and with a single hand holding the girl's ass under her underwear, making it twice as teasing as the image was naturally. You couldn't see the man's face or neck as well, so the focus will be 100% focused on the maid.

You know who else also dresses elegantly just like the man in the image ever since he was a teenager? Diluc. That means, Diluc sees himself on the image more than anyone else. He has always been dressing suits and coexisted with maids. That doesn't mean he necessarily was dirty-minded to his maids, he actually never was dirty-minded at all. He'd only take looks at the magazine when Kaeya AND his father weren't home, just to make sure he'd be safe when he'd touch himself. Because only God knows how many times Kaeya caught him in the act.

Now, Diluc couldn't stop remembering the times he'd touch himself to that image and what did he imagine while doing so. Poor Jean was always the victim... but now, obviously all he could think of was you.

He could imagine you two against a wall, his clothed dick making contact with your buttocks while you said stuff he'd imagine as a child as well.

"I'm sorry for breaking your father's vase, my master~..." You moaned, taking a peak at him with your left eye.

Your face was red and teary just like the maid, hands gently touching the wall.

"I'm ready for my punishment..." You arched your back more and more, pushing and caging his dick between his pants and the vale between your buttocks.

His imaginary hand slides under your baby pink panties.

Why this color? Well... that was also the color the maid was using in the picture to make a contrast between the black and white palette (and attracting the reader's gaze).

He slowly pulled them off, making every single second of it painful to you. He didn't even bother taking it all off, he just left it hanging on your knees. You were already wet, favoring even more his job at the moment. And it didn't take seconds for him to completely get his dick inside you.

The real Diluc felt butterflies and accidentally grunted. Poor boy didn't even realize he had been rubbing his hand on his cock this entire time, still in his pants (surprisingly). He stopped everything to take a look at himself. The way his cock was THAT hard was embarrassing in his view. He’s supposed to be a classy and respectful man to everyone and especially his wife.

But his kinky self just couldn’t stay hidden in the back of his brain anymore.

Should he really do it? Right there? Right now?

...

...

...

"Ok..." He said to himself, closing the archive he was looking and pulling the picture he had of you closer to his gaze.

It was a beautiful picture of you and him in your marriage, the happiest moment of his life. He shouldn't use such a golden memory to picture you, but it didn't really matter anymore, he had already pulled his dick out and he'd do it for the sake of the pleasure he hasn't felt in years.

Back to the main part, there he was, thrusting you right in your weakest spots, very slowly, enjoying every single breathless moan coming out of you.

As the traditionalist Diluc was grown to be, he felt more pleasure being on top, and that was honestly his favorite position. He liked to make you tiptoe in order to make you extra vulnerable against him, and that was exactly what he was doing to your image right now. You already had your panties hanged and now, both your legs.

Diluc put his hand in his face in order to mute his moans from the outside. It would be too embarrassing for anyone to see such a grown and respectful man doing things like that, so he really wanted to prevent anybody from coming in. He knew the door of his office was unlocked, so his eyes would stare it like a predator, ready to change positions if anybody decided to come in.

But the more his door didn't move, the more he allowed himself to go faster and harsher in his own body.

"M-Master Diluc..!~" You screamed, multiple times.

He released one of his hands off your hips and smacked your ass once and hard.

"Quiet down. I don't want us to be heard." He growled in your ear, sort of messaging his real self at the same time.

He was becoming frustrated. He'd usually become frustrated when you two were having intimacy because it was the main way he could de-stress after his long, hard-working days.

"P-Please~..! I-I can't keep quiet~..! You're going too hard~..!" You moaned, trying to turn your head to him desperately.

Diluc stopped thrusting.

"If you can't keep up with my rules, you will suffer more punishment." Diluc mired your defenseless figure breathing heavily.

"Master, please..!" Your voice didn't sound too breathless or pleasurable. That annoyed him. You're supposed to be begging, moaning and whimpering for him.

Without any warning, Diluc released a hand of your waist again and put it on your hair, pulling it to his direction, thrusting you harsh at the same time. The scream that escaped was insanely high your back immediately arched to its maximum again.

"Then, I guess you’d rather show everybody how slutty you are under your cute little maid dress." He whispered, increasing his pace as his hand on your head did not move.

You weren't holding back any of your moans, which made Diluc angrier and angrier. He released his right hand from your waist as well and started smacking your ass repeatedly whenever he felt you moaned too loudly.

Your head was barely functioning, it was too many things to process for your considerably tiny body. You could only moan and hold your drool until you'd reach your very late orgasm.

The real Diluc was becoming unable to hide some of his pants and groans. Even if he was containing his moans, it wasn’t enough to contain his volume. When Diluc noticed that his dick was starting to slightly ache, his eyes widened in search of the tissues he had in the corner of his table. His nose isn't too resistant to cold and he'd keep those tissues there so he wouldn't make pointless pauses during his working sessions. But for the first time he'd use one of those to something like that. He even thought about cumming in your picture to visualize his dirty thoughts better, but it was too golden for such a disgusting thing like what he was doing.

The more Diluc fastened his movements, the closer his head got his table, eventually laying it down from exhaustion. That was also helpful to quiet down his noises and less exhausting than keeping his hands in the air and making it difficult for his blood circulation.

After some seconds in that position, Diluc finally blowed. His free hand was quick enough to put that tissue he grabbed on top of his dick before the actual thing. He hissed and grunted until the whole orgasm was done and threw himself in the chair.

He kept staring at the rooftop meanwhile his breath slowly went back to normal. He couldn't believe he had just masturbated for a fucking link that he got after reading a porn magazine he hasn't seen in years. His eyes closed in frustration at himself.

It seemed that doing that actually helped him.

He felt normal again. No more dirty thoughts, no more porn magazines… it’s just him again.

Diluc sighed in relief. No one had caught him.

He also wondered if he should ask you tonight if you two could try new things next time you guys would have sex, like the scenario he just thought about. But that kinda made him feel bad. You were such a wonderful woman. You controlled the chores in the house, you decided what was dinner going to be, you prepared parties, you made some businesses around and way more! He felt terrible of asking you to take another burden in one of the few moments where you two could express and take all that stress out of your bodies.

But doing it in missionary over and over was getting a little boring in Diluc’s mind, now that he had thought about doing it step by step against a wall.

Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Duty calls him and he needs to read through and sign those documents by tomorrow. So he breathed in and lifted his chest again, beginning to flip through the pages of the documents he was messing some minutes ago.

“I mean… the worst she could say is “No”, right? It’s a 50/50 thing, so… she could accept it… right?” Diluc wondered his final thought to hisself while looking for the page where he stopped at.

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

[qyxzun]

🕸️┆𝕻𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

╰┈➤ ❝𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘𝐘𝐘𝐘 𝐋𝐄𝐓'𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, my name is Y/N L/N. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, and for about two years, I've been the one and only spider woman. I'm pretty sure you know the rest.

Been fighting other bad guys, helping cats off trees, saving plains from crashing into buildings, you know—the basics.

I lost my best friends when I realized one of them was my nemesis.

but that didn't stop me from fighting for the better!

I just wish I wasn't alone. What if there was another universe where someone understood me?

whatever, probably just my imagination.❞

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝟗𝟐𝟔-𝐙, there was you, sleeping in bed so peacefully before your loud blaring alarm on your phone started to ring for the fifth time. You groaned when the sound disrupted your sleep before you finally picked up your phone to check what time it was. your eyes completely widened. You were late for school.

"Shit!" you cursed, pushing yourself off the bed and running to the bathroom to take the quickest bath you could. Taking off your clothes, dosing yourself with the shower's water, and quickly soaping up your entire body. As quickly as you entered, you almost tripped, going out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your soaked body. You ran back to your room, sloppily but quickly putting on your Brooklyn Visions Academy uniform. You still think that school is elitist, but you can't complain for now.

With no time to spare other than lacing up your shoes and taking your unzipped bag, you ran out of your dorm, forgetting to lock the door. You started to quickly jog your way to the school with your bag slung in front of you in an attempt to zip it closed with your papers and work securely inside. Traffic was booming like crazy, which made you groan impatiently. "My luck should really not be affecting my school," you grumbled.

The light finally turned red, letting pedestrians pass. You pushed past multiple people, apologizing when you ran through them as you continued to sprint to the school's entrance. When you finally stepped inside the school, you ran to your locker, put your bag and stuff away, and sprinted so fast to your class before the bell could ring. You arrived just in time, holding your textbooks by the door while a bead of sweat ran down your neck.

You panted, out of breath from running the entire morning, while your professor looked at you, unimpressed that you were late for how many times?

"Tardy again, Y/N. Keep up if you want to pass this year." She said, obviously hinting that you were someone who didn't care about education. Rude.

You nervously walked to your seat with your heavy books in hand while your classmates watched you sit down. Your professor passed by and gave you multiple papers stapled together as your exam. You skimmed through it, and the questions were almost a big blur for you when you saw how hard you should've studied instead of fighting other criminals on a daily basis. You held your mechanical pencil tight, wondering what to write while your other classmates were all silent and focused on the exams, unlike you, who had no idea. You wrote down what you knew, but you still felt anxious. You really didn't want to fail this exam; it could be your last before you would have to move to another school. You liked that option, but your parents worked too hard, climbing the ranks so you could have an easier life once you passed your exams. Since when was life decided by a piece of paper?

Minutes into the exam, suddenly, you heard a loud explosion near the back of your school. It was muffled through the thick walls, yet it was obvious something dangerous had happened. Your spider senses tingled, and you lifted your head abruptly while your class looked around, wondering what that could be while the teacher noticed their confused and worried expressions.

"Everyone calm down! Form a line and carefully leave the school through the front," your professor ordered, yet most students had already started running out of the classroom, ignoring her orders.

You quickly ran out too, pushing past the rest of the students while you navigated back to your locker. You grabbed your bag from inside and forgot to close it, prioritizing the situation at hand as you went to the bathroom.

"Guess I have to do my job again," you sighed while you quickly locked the toilet stall. You opened your bag, your spider suit folded neatly and tucked between your other textbooks inside. You took off your uniform, changing into the tight spider suit swiftly. You made sure to keep your mask securely on; protecting your identity was the most important part of it.

Finally dressed for battle and your bag slung on your back, you climbed out through the restroom's window, flicking multiple webs out of your fingertips. They swiftly stuck to one of the school's large pillars, and they allowed you to swing away quickly. You swung from building to building easily, reaching the back of the school to see seven vehicles crash together, causing a fire to spread throughout the school's background. Multiple police cars and ambulances were parked nearby, with the paramedics taking as many victims as they could on stretchers and transporting them to the ambulance crew.

You saw many policemen trying to save the injured under the rubble and from the fire as well. You knew they could get in the way of your job, so you created a diversion. You shot a web inside the policeman's car, the sticky string immediately reaching and pressing on the accelerator as it slowly moved forward, catching their attention.

"Woah—woah, woah—hey!!" one of them hollered, trying to reach the advancing car alongside his other colleagues. It gave you enough time to reach the exploded area with your webs.

"This is a whole mess," you mumbled to yourself under your mask as you reached another building's wall. You quickly climbed higher and swiftly shot individual webbing from your fingertips, each web reaching pieces of heavy debris on top of the injured. You held and wrapped all five webs around your palm, pulling the rubble off of the victims with your bare hand as your webs carried them to the side.

The concerned police officers ran to the injured with paramedics, yet the fire persisted, causing another explosion near the colliding cars. You were thinking of a plan to somehow save all of these people while you internally grew more anxious.

"What the hell is causing these explosions?" You grunted, frustrated. You loathed seeing people get injured while you tried to think of something. You jumped from the high wall, plunging down as you shot webs toward the heavily injured near the fire. You pulled them close, carrying more than three people while their blood smeared on your spider suit.

You quickly rested their bodies near where the ambulances could see them before you swung back to the high roof of the building. Your spider senses suddenly tingled before you turned around. On the building's edge, you saw the villain behind it all.

"Who the hell is this guy?" You said, looking down to the edge, and saw a lizard... or a goblin? You didn't know. You shot webs once more in its direction, propelling yourself up before you landed a harsh kick in its face. It let out a loud grunt as saliva was knocked out of his mouth. You sent him flying to another building's wall before he collapsed on the ground.

You walked over to it cautiously, a foot on his chest as you stepped on it harder. You glared down at him, looking down at a vile creature who hurt your people. It coughed, its vision blurry before it looked up to you, it started chuckling with your foot on his scales. "We meet again Peter," it said, smirking.

"Who the hell is Peter?" You retorted, raising an eyebrow behind your mask while it looked at you as if you were playing with his head.

"Oh, don't lie now, Peter... I know all about—" The vile lizard was about to continue, but it was cut off when it saw your features more clearly. You had more of a feminine body. Your muscles weren't as built, but you were strong enough to consider its enemy, like Peter. You had bigger hips and smaller shoulders than a man. Not to mention the obvious, your suit wasn't one it recognized. Its expression turned from smug to confused. You weren't the Peter it knew.

With rage blinding its confusion, it growled and grabbed your ankle with its large clawed hand, pulling your foot off its chest as it caused you to almost lose balance.

"Who are you?" It glared, looking at you with disdain and anger. You, on the other hand, were confused about why it didn't know you when you were literally the spider-woman.

"I'm spider-woman? The hero?" You rhetorically responded before it sneered and tossed you to the side of the building. You reacted quickly as you shot webs at its face, blinding it and pulling on the webs before you could hit the wall with its heavy weight. You adroitly landed on the floor again.

"Okay, dude—that's not nice," you pout under your mask while it growled in frustration when your webs blinded its field of vision. The creature almost tore off its eyes, in an attempt to take the sticky web off its face while it bled. The oversized lizard was raging mad before it charged toward you at full speed. You were about to swing burning wreckage to its face with your webs before a sudden brightness appeared from above.

You both looked up in confusion before you suddenly saw a red web hastily tie your green rival into scarlet webbing. It came out of what seemed to be a bright light formed with hexagons while it glitched. You haven't seen anything like it, thinking it could be another threat. "Argh!!!" The creature thundered before you saw what seemed to be another spider-man go through the portal. He promptly punched the lizard's head, blood coming out of its mouth, before it crashed into another building's wall.

The mysterious man stood up once he apprehended the green goblin with his webs. He tied it with his webs effortlessly while you approached him, his head slightly turning to look at you.

"So, like, who are you?" You asked, putting a hand on your hip before he turned around to fully face you.

"Classified," He spoke with a low tone, keeping it short and cold. You hummed, thinking of who he could be.

"You Peter? That green, uh, creature was looking after Peter or something. I don't know," you shrugged while the man was still silent, like he was judging you secretly with that glare.

You cleared your throat, a bit uncomfortable that he wasn't responding to your question. "Well, anyway, gotta deal with the fire and stuff. Gotta go blue panther." You were about to walk to the fire, mostly to save more victims before he stepped in front of you.

"It's alright, kid. I'll take it from here." He responded, his tone still cold, while his hand was slightly raised, telling you to stand down. Your spider senses tingled after he said that. You looked up behind him as you saw the green goblin manage to escape his webbing and cause more havoc behind the tall, muscular spider-man. In a fit of rage, the creature threw a burning truck in your direction.

"Oh, shit—look out!" You yelled, shooting a web at the spider-man's chest before pulling him away from the landing truck. You quickly moved away as well, but suddenly hissed in pain and fell near the fire. You groaned when you saw your burned forearm and noticed that your spider-suit was covered in cinders after smelling something burning.

"Puta madre--!" the spider-man growled before claws started to grow out of his hands. With animalistic ferocity, he chased after the goblin, shooting a web on his way to get to him faster. His speed never slowed down as his legs ran faster and faster, almost like a car on a highway.

Meanwhile, you winced when you pushed yourself up before your senses started to go haywire again. You turned around and saw more people in the burning debris while firefighters arrived and started to put out the flames. You hastily followed the spider-man from before by crawling up on top of a very tall building. Your eyes quickly scanned the area, searching for him. You spotted the lizard causing more trouble as it climbed up the building in front of you. His claws dug into the wall, causing more debris to fall, almost hitting more pedestrians. The other spider-man turned his head around, watching as the debris started to rain down on the citizens. He was so conflicted; he was so close to catching the goblin, yet the civilians were in danger.

"Fuck!" The man cursed, shooting a web to catch the debris, yet he failed. He grunted, turning his attention back to his target. He continued to chase the green goblin. You, on the other hand, thought fast and jumped down while shooting multiple webs to make a gigantic spider web to catch all the falling debris. Your webbing was strong enough to carry the heavy rubble and the burning damage before it could hit the others. Once you were sure it was holding everything in place, you shot another web, swinging yourself to the injured, who couldn't move. You picked them up— two on your back and one in your arms. They were barely alive when you gently laid them down somewhere more safe.

Your head lifted when you heard a cry. "M-Mama! Please! Help!!" A child screamed while you put all the victims away near the policemen. You turned your head back, realizing one of them was still stuck in the fire. You didn't hesitate to run back, propelling yourself into the air to see where the kid could be. You then saw her crawling up into a ball, a toy in her arms, while she looked around with tears in her eyes, afraid of the fire. She coughed profusely, almost running out of oxygen, while tears prickled her eyes. Even with the burnt forearm, you quickly and nimbly landed in front of her, picking her up easily while she didn't know what was happening. Yet she held onto you tighter than her toy. You shot another web at a building, pulling the two of you up before swinging away to where it was safe.

When you slowly descended to the ground with the child hugging your neck tightly, you saw a weeping woman on the ground with multiple injuries. Your eyes softened, worried behind your mask. You looked back at the kid, noticing she looked like she could be her child. You approached her. "Ma'am," you called out to her, getting her attention before you put down the kid in front of her. She gasped and brought her into her arms, pulling her into a very tight hug while they both wept.

"Thank you," the woman whimpered before looking up at your masked face. "Thank you for saving all of us." She smiled while sobbing, looking around at the people you saved. Even though they were injured, you managed to save all of them. You nodded your head, smiling behind your mask as you flashed her a thumbs-up.

You heard a thump behind you, hinting that the tall spider-man was behind you before you turned around to see him holding the green lizard with his red webs. "Hey," you said, looking up to him. "Caught the lizard?" As you chuckled, you noticed that he still had that unfazed look on his face. It seemed like he was trying to put up a brave front in front of the crowd. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat before responding.

"Follow me," he ordered with a reserved tone as he shot a web and pulled himself up to a very tall skyscraper. You followed behind him, the wind blowing into your face before you landed gracefully on top of the skyscraper.

There, you saw him tap on something on his wrist before another portal opened, the same bright orange hexagons forming the strange entrance while they rotated slowly. Your eyes squinted from how bright it was, while he still had the same expression as before. He got ready to throw the lizard into the portal, while it struggled and squirmed under his tight webs. "This is not the last time you'll see me, Peter!" It yelled, glaring daggers at you and the tall spider-man, until he was thrown into the portal. It created a short blast before the portal returned to normal.

You were quiet for a bit, not knowing what to say. He then turned around to face you, the portal closing very slowly while he approached you. "I'm from another dimension," he admitted while you gasped dramatically, knowing the obvious.

"You are.?! Woahhhhh.." Your eyes were wide behind your mask. He glared at your sarcasm, crossing his arms as it showed his muscles behind the tight suit.

"Take this seriously, chiquilla," he monotonously replied before clearing his throat and looking away. There was a small pause before he spoke. "You showed great abilities when you saved all those people." As soon as you received the compliment, his eyes shifted back to you while yours lit up with joy. It felt like you were a kid again, basking in the glory of a teacher's praise for acing a test.

He didn't say anything else. He looked down at his hand and slowly formed a fist. You watched him, wondering what he'd be doing. You tilted your head to the side, trying to see what was in his palm when it slowly opened. After a few more moments, he opened his fist.

"A watch?" You looked confusedly before he tossed it to you; you easily caught it, observing it. "What the hell is this for?" You asked, looking back at him. You finally noticed that it was the same watch he had on his wrist.

"You'll feel more at home," he responded stoically. He took the watch and helped you put it on properly. "... and we can use the help," he said.

"Who's we?" You asked, bewildered, becoming more baffled than ever. You'll feel more at home, he said. What did that even mean? You took off your mask, getting a clearer view of him, as you had a concerned face. "Who even are you?" You replied like you were annoyed for not knowing the entire truth.

His mask slowly distorted into pixels as it showed his face. "Miguel O'hara." He simply responded, looking down at you with his intimidating, tired brown eyes. He then slowly turned around, walking to the portal that hadn't been closed yet. You watched him enter the bright hexagons before you watched him disappear in front of your eyes.

You gripped the watch tightly.

𝕾𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄.

[smolhoneybat]

hi! i've been a fan for quite a while. i really admire how you seem to articulate, i found myself becoming more introspective with every video. also it's really nice to see someone talking about games and series i really love. aside from that, i wanted to ask if you had any recommendations like games, books, shows, movies?

hi hi!! thank you so much, pinning the words down is hard but worth it haha 💛

Ooh I have so many... obviously there's the games and shows I've talked about on my channel but standouts would have to be Darkwood, Nier Automata and Arcane but ALSO

Games: -A Space for the Unbound: chill fetch quests in a small town in rural Indonesia, finish your summer bucket list with your gf, pet cats, dive into the subconsciousnesses of your neighbours!

-Ender Lilies: metroidvania platformer with some tight controls like Hollow Knight, gorgeous artwork and music, you play as Lily, a young amnesiac priestess trying to purify the spirits of the dead and stop the plague ridden rain that won't stop falling, you're small and weak but you recruit different spirits to fight with you but it never feels overwhelming or bloated, really enjoyed it

-Signalis: survival horror as an android looking for her gf, she made a promise and she's going. to. fulfil. it. Dystopian future in space with lots of good old rusty machine body horror, strange senses of time and memory and there's some puzzles in there too.

-Sunless Sea: Victorian London was moved underground by bats. Don't worry about it. Go sail the seas and try and turn a profit without losing your mind from the Horrors ^.^ (deceptively a lot of reading in this, plays like a management sim meets VN)

-Omori: 4 years ago Something happened. Omori dreams his days away in his room, carefully not thinking about that Something. Some of the game is in his colourful dream worlds and some out in the real world. Fights are always tinged with emotional rock paper scissors as how you, your friends and enemies feel will affect the fight! He's about to move house and an old friend comes knocking on the door...

(-alsoPathologicisgoodyesI'moneofthoseyoutubers)

Books: -Va11-Hall-A: I...don't know whether to put a VN under games or books so I'm putting it between the two. You're a barista in a cyberpunk kinda world, you listen to patrons while making them drinks and chat. (It's chill but sometimes gets pretty heavy and has a lot of mature topics in it for the record.) -Deathless by Cathrynne M. Valente: an alternate history book that has one foot in the Russian Revolution and the other in fairytale. Marya Morevna marries Koschei the Deathless, and goes back to his kingdom. She makes friends with various folklore creatures, checks in on her sisters who all married birds and her old and new lives begin to collide.

-The Locked Tomb trilogy by Tamsyn Muir: sci-fi necromancers vie to become the next right bony hand of God, first book is a murder mystery, second is a grim tale by a survivor of the first but something is Wrong and you know it is, third is an oddly domestic political tragedy and I loved them all so much, cannot recommend the audiobooks in particular enough (as the first is a murder mystery, all the voices the narrator does are both incredibly well done but let me pinpoint exactly who was speaking even when I couldn't remember their names, also she voiced Daniella in Haunting Ground!)

-The Gentleman Bastards series by Scott Lynch: small orphan becomes a conman in fantasy Italy. Ends up being drawn into some political intrigue and fucks around finds out, frequently!

-Children of Time: Spiders! Once upon a time an arrogant scientist decided to infect monkey with a virus that would encourage rapid evolution within cooperative species but...it reaches jumping spiders. They have their own form of sign language with vibrational tappy patterns against the ground and wiggling their palps! Scientist's consciousness has melded with an AI and is waiting for her monkeys to become intelligent enough to contact her

Misc: -Dungeon Meshi: do you want to learn about the ecosystem of a dungeon while also figuring out how to cook the creatures inside and watch a guy with a monster special interest live his absolute best life? Yeah you do! (I'm really enjoying this rn so ye)

-Mabel: podcast about a home health carer for an old lady who's only living relative, Mabel, is missing. Anna, the nurse, starts leaving her voicemails like a diary and slowly gets drawn into family secrets, fairy logic and goes exploring places she shouldn't (this one does not shy away from heavy topics including serious child abuse and its effects so if that's not for you then leave this one be)

[erinhime83]

I LIED, there was actually one more design I needed to do, but I wasn’t sure if I would actually do it or not, or if the character was even going to be in the story.  She doesn’t need to be, but I’ve also developed a bit of plot around her, so I figure what the hell.

So…this one has a bit of a weird backstory to it.  See, my family has really gotten into Build-a-Bear in the past year, and one of the times I was in there, I decided to make myself a cat.  Now, with all of my bears, I’ve chosen celestial names for them, and upon looking for one for the cat, I came across Asta, which I decided to use.  And then I was amusing myself afterwards thinking about the fact that Astra is simple to Nova.

(I already had one I had made years and years ago named Nova, which, funnily enough, is a dog.)

But somehow, that kicked off my muse thinking about a character that was opposite of Nova who was named Astra.  And this is pretty much the end result of those thoughts, lol.

So Astra is a new superhero who really did gain her powers from the explosion Cosmic Star created prior to the book, which is why no one had heard of her before.  Flying superheroes are incredibly rare, with only three known before Astra turned up.  (I was going to give her the star blasts as well, with the idea that she has simple powers to Cosmic Star, before deciding to just stick her with the one power.)  She’s a bit arrogant thanks to her unique power, and she and Cosmic Star clash a lot because she’s inexperienced.

For her looks, I obviously wanted her to be the opposite of Nova, but the opposite of Nova happens to be Gabe, so I gave her green eyes to sort of make her not look like Gabe?  But also, since Nova’s style is comfy causal, I modeled Astra after all the girls I see in my store who wear extremely tight leggings and shirts that are too short to be worn with leggings.  (In other words, a modern style.)  And somehow, it works for her?

As for her superhero design, I wanted to mimic Cosmic Star a little, but her bodysuit is skin tight, whereas Cosmic Star’s is supposed to be loose.  (This is, by the way, where I got the idea of giving Cosmic Star the belt, since I didn’t think it was fair that the two other characters had belts and looked awesome and Cosmic Star did not have one.)  I gave her inverted colors from Cosmic Star as well, although the yellow was originally more of a light brown, but I didn’t like that as much.  I also like the way her name mimics Cosmic Star’s as well.  I had a hard time coming up with a similar ward to star before realizing astra means star, and thus, aster.  And I have a habit of punning their superhero names off their real names, so…yeah.

I do like how she turned out, and I hope I can portray her right (or at all) in the story.

The other design is just me not wanting to put up only one picture on Tumblr.  It’s nothing really special – just the forms of Nova prior to Division.  The first one is a redesigned very first outfit of Cosmic Star, and I really like it!  It turned out so cute!  I like the idea that Nova had bangs when she was 15/16, making her current look even more dramatic.  I also liked the idea that she just used the pants and the over shirt for Swift Star, making it all different enough so its not immediately obvious it’s the name costume should anyone actually remember this version of Cosmic Star.

And then when she gets her new shirt, she adds the old belt just to have something from the old uniform still on her.  Or something like that.

Basically, since I updated Swift Star and Cosmic Star’s design, I just wanted a way to show the other ways she looked.  ^^;

[sweetyyhippyy]

Birthday Gift. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader *FLUFF*

(NOT MY GIF)

Summary: It’s Eddie’s birthday and his girlfriend’s family does something special for his day.

TW: Very small mention of blood (nobody in the fic is bleeding). Eddie having the parents he deserves.

Word count: 911

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

She couldn’t help but smile as she watched from the kitchen with her mom, at Eddie and her dad bonding over her dad’s record collection. Both of them discussing which Led Zeppelin album was the best one.

As scared to death she was 2 years ago when she first brought Eddie home to meet her parents, the outcome couldn’t have been better.  

Her mom thought Eddie was the cutest thing ever, thought his hair was a little too long, but she still treated him like one of her own kids. The love that her mom had for Eddie only deepened when she learned that Eddie came from a less than ideal homelife/childhood.

The real test was her dad. Her dad hated every other boy she had ever dated going through her teen years. They were always “never good enough”, “douchebags”, and “losers”. But Eddie had won him over pretty quickly. They bonded over music, her dad loving rock music from the 60s and 70s, Eddie obviously loving rock music too, even if his was more so heavy metal. Her dad saw something in Eddie that the other boyfriend’s didn’t have.

She walks into the room both of them were in, laughing to herself as she saw both of them playing air guitar together. She leans over the back of the couch, wrapping her arms around Eddie’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to his cheek.  “You two boys having fun?”

Eddie smiles, turning his face to look at her with hearts in his eyes, nodding his head.

“Okay, Eddie, we got you a surprise for your birthday.” Her mom cheers, holding a box in her hands, Christmas wrapping paper around the box. “Also, this is the only wrapping paper we had, so I’m sorry.” She laughs, handing him the box.

Eddie looks at both of her parents, his soft eyes reading surprised. “Wait, you guys got me something?”

“Of course! It’s your birthday!” Her mom says, patting his knee. “Go ahead and open it, honey.”

Eddie smiles widely, taking the top of the box off, putting it down on the couch cushion next to him. He pulls out a small velvet red and black bag with drawstrings. He pulls the bag open, cupping his hand to catch new D&D dice. They were metal with red paint splatter that resembled blood splatter. “These are bada-, awesome.” He catches himself before he curses in front of her mom.

Her heart swelled as she watched him go back into the box to pull the other item out, a book that read “Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Master Guide.”

“We hope you really like your gift, honey.”

Eddie looked up at her mom, a little twinkle in his eye as he really tried to not get teary eyed. “I love all of it. The dinner, the gift, everything. Thank you guys. You really made today special and not suck like my other birthdays.” He gets up and gives her mom a tight hug, followed by him sticking his hand out to shake hands with her dad, but her dad ends up getting up and giving him a hug as well.

He couldn’t be more thankful to have parental figures in his life that cared about him enough to include him in their family.

Eddie sneaks up on his girlfriend, snaking his arms around her waist. “Hi.” He kisses her cheek twice.

“Hi handsome. You having a good time?”

“The best time. I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what, babe?” She asks, turning around to look at him.

“For giving your parents the idea for my present. It was really sweet.”

“I didn’t give them the idea. I didn’t even know they were giving you a present until it happened. I was saving your present for when we got back to your place.”

Eddie’s ears perk up, taken off guard at what she said. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah! I mean my mom asked me what the game you played that had to do with dragons was, and I told her, but that was it. Everything else she did on her own.”

Eddie looks over at her mom in the other room with her dad as they watch TV together. A healthy marriage was something he never witnessed himself. He smiled as he thought about how he never had to truly fight to fit into her family, he was just accepted for who he was right off the bat.

“They truly love you, you know? They wouldn’t have done any of this if they didn’t like you.” She rubs her hands up his leather jacket that covers his arms. “They love you just as much as I do.” She stretches up to kiss him quickly, not wanting her parents to catch them making out in the kitchen. “Well maybe I love you a little more, and for different reasons but,” She jokes.

“I love you too.” Eddie kisses her nose. “And your family for making me feel a part of the family before I’m actually part of your family for real.”

“Oh? A part of the family for real? And what would that look like?” Throwing her arms around his neck as she raises an eyebrow at him.

“You know exactly what I mean, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs in her ear. “That’ll happen soon I promise. But then you’ll officially be a Munson.”

She shrugs, a wide smile on her face. “Being a Munson doesn’t sound so bad.”

[ssaalexblake]

Honestly I think with a couple of weeks distance from eve of the daleks, the most absurd take from corners of fandom is Still ‘why would Dan think 13′s gay’ because like, i’ll be nice and not use her outfit as evidence because while it’s telling it’s not conclusive, either, and say that Dan met two women who live together in a space ship and are obviously very close, and they’re all on 13′s ship for a short amount of time before they somehow end up in the crimea and Dan finds himself back home during an invasion. 

13 actually comes back for him and asks him if he wants to come join her in a dangerous situation that is obviously a trap to save Yaz. He’s already witnessed ride or die behaviour in episode Two. 

When they do spring the trap (and they are very much aware that’s what they’re doing), when 13 sees Yaz stuck up on that pedestal she Blatantly panics and runs full speed to her, it is also obvious from context that these weird crystal creeps are deliberately taunting 13 with Yaz. That’s the oldest trick in the book for bad guy behaviour lbr, kidnapping the significant other to lure in the hero of the hour and then harming them? 

Nothing has given Dan any indication that they are Not an item. Do I think that he thought they were together at this point? Honestly, no, but the point is that once he looks back upon all this he’ll go ‘...ohhh’. 

The next thing Dan knows after this is being pulled into the time stream because 13 measured the odds in half a second and decided saving Yaz was worth risking both Their lives as well. (ilu Vinder but Yaz was absolutely the pulling factor here). 

We hit episode four and 13 runs off and Yaz is obviously a bit put out by this, and they get got by angels and a ton of stuff happens and they run into the division between their era and the 60′s and they see the doctor get cornered and taken. He has to physically restrain Yaz from accidentally killing herself because she was trying to get to 13 and forgot the barrier was a killer. 

And then they have the years in the past with Yaz and that hologram. And okay, he’s Said what he got from Yaz from that, but the other side of it is that he sees 13 Also express all those emotions towards Yaz, express her care. He knows that 13 was worried and took the time to record a message just in case and leave it with Yaz. My point being, Yaz wasn’t the only one playing her hand here. 

Then, when they do get back and 13 appears before them she Literally Throws Herself In Yaz’s Arms. Yaz literally almost gets pushed over with the force of it, she wobbles. 13′s clinging on tight, and she’s just reunited with a lot of people and Dan knows that because she says so but it’s Yaz she throws herself at. He couldn’t see 13′s face but he could see Yaz’s look of utter relief from his angle. 

My point being... By the time Dan might have had a passing thought of ‘oh... They’re actually together, they really love each other’ everything he’d seen Before then would have actually bolstered that thought and in no way negated it. If i were him, by that point, pretty sure i’d have considered them both an item and that’s not even going into him walking in on them looking like they were about to kiss in the vanquishers.  

Must have been a SHock for him when he twigged they aren’t, actually, together. Might even have been a bit of a shock that Yaz was in denial about it. He clearly has twigged that 13′s deliberately not noticing it, but i think Yaz not being willing to acknowledge it may have been the only part to that that Was a surprise to him. 

point being... Dan has seen More than enough to draw some detailed conclusions and it’s not just from Yaz’s end, either. 13 played her hand to him and she’s barely really interacted with him. Basically, he had Every reason to believe this was requited. Just because we’ve seen yaz and 13 manage to avoid this for two whole seasons doesn’t mean he has, he just has the information from Flux to fill him in and no previous experience to colour his interpretations of it. And what he saw was pretty clear... From both of them. 

[dreamingofaizawa]

Potent

Alpha! Hanta Sero x Fem! Omega! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18 please vacate the premises.

Warnings: A/B/O, smut, knotting, marking, breeding kink (sorta? idk it comes with the A/B/O territory), a hint of pregnancy kink, a bit of blood

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author's Note: Ohhhhkaayyy so this has been sitting in my google doc for AGES. I think I started this in...October of last year? It's been sitting there for months and I've lacked the motivation to finish and post it but then I sent in an anon ask to @reinawritesbnha and, being the absolute queen she is, she became the little push I needed to do it. I DID IT FOR REINA!!

Also, this is some of my earliest writing and I only skimmed and edited a little bit of it so if there's a little bit of weird pacing or a strange cutoff where the writing styles clash it's because I haven't touched this piece in months.

Anywho, enjoy~

*

*

*

It had to happen when you were surrounded by alphas.

Your suppressants flaked out, again, and your scent wafted through the air on the street. Normally It’d be fine for an omega to let their scent float freely around them. But your scent is particularly...potent, even when you weren’t in heat. Not only that, but you weren’t mated yet, your scent glands still bare, and you still didn’t have a pack. To make matters worse, you’re quirkless.

You hadn’t realised what was happening until your path was blocked by an especially large male alpha. You turned around, and there were two more behind you. Fuck. This isn’t good. You took in your surroundings and searched for an exit, but you couldn’t find a way out. There's no way you’d be able to outrun the three very large male alphas.

Probably the worst part is that more alphas are turning their head toward you, taking notice of your lavender honey and rain scent that slowly began turning to a sour swamp. You dared to hope that change would ward off the three cornering you, but they’d already got a whiff of you. Several distressed chirps sounded from your chest, voicing your discomfort, and you glared pointedly at the three alphas as they edged closer to you.

You hate when this happened. Why’d you have to be cursed like this? Your growls only grew, baring your little omega fangs. There’s no way in hell you’d let some stranger scent you, let alone one of these creeps. They wouldn’t take the damn hint and just crept closer to you, calling out to the ‘pretty little omega’ to ‘come have some fun’.

You’re scared now, the involuntary chirps in your chest coming more frequently. None of the other alphas or betas on the street were big enough to face the three, making you a sitting duck and a ragdoll if they wanted you to be. Your claws are small, nowhere near ideal for this situation, but you’d use them if you needed to. With a final low defiant growl you dropped your bag against the wall behind you and readied yourself for a fight.

Suddenly a large body dropped in front of you, his back to you. His scent alone hit you like a freight train, orange zest, mint, tree bark and something earthy. It had your head spinning, nearly sending you into an early heat. He growled, low and powerful, the sound rattling in your chest and making you sink further into the wall behind you. The other three alpha’s scents together were still overpowered by the new alpha before you, and they vanished faster than they appeared.

He turned around and stepped away from you, giving you space to breathe. He kneeled down enough so he was eye level with you, his hands reaching out clearly in an attempt to comfort you, but kept from touching you.

“Are you okay?” The question barely registered, still delirious from his scent, and you’re having a hard time recovering. Large hands grip your shoulders and shake you lightly, your mind beginning to clear with the soothing pheromones he’s releasing.

“Omega.” The command snapped you to attention, your gaze fixated on his own dark irises.

“Are you okay, omega?” You blink, swallow down the lump in your throat, take a deep breath.

“Yeah...I’m okay. Thank you, alpha.” But you’re not quite okay. You need to get home. Fast. The alpha seemed to catch on, probably by your scent that still hadn’t returned to normal. He stands and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping you in his scent. It’s a comforting gesture.

“Let’s get you home.” With a nod you set off, the man walking next to you with a strong, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“What’s your name?” You introduce yourself, and he does the same. His name is Sero Hanta, and now that you’re calm again, you take in just how handsome he is.

Raven hair is pulled back into a small bun, showing off his undercut and strong, sharp jawline. Onyx eyes shine with kindness and playful mischief, and a beaming grin reveals pearly white teeth. He’s incredibly toned, his muscles calmly rippling under the t-shirt that stretched over his chest. You vaguely noticed the strange shape of his elbows, but disregarded it as his quirk. The omega in you is howling, begging for this alpha, his scent invading your senses. But you suppress it quickly, reminding yourself you’d only just met this man.

As you reach your apartment you exchange phone numbers, and he tells you to keep the jacket and use it when you go out to ward off any unwanted attention. You thank him again for helping you earlier, and he waves to you as he walks down the hall and enters the elevator, the doors closing in front of his handsome smiling face.

Despite meeting him only ten minutes earlier your instincts trust the alpha, and you hold the jacket close to your face, breathing in his scent. It’s wonderful, and your inner omega is in love. You find yourself wondering when you’d see him again.

The next few days are riddled with work and calls to your doctor about the strength of your suppressants. You work from home as a secretary for a small company. It’s a miracle you’d found it, too. Nobody wants an omega, let alone a potent one. It’s an alpha’s world, you guess. When this job opening popped up you were ecstatic, so you took it and have been working from home with decent pay for the last five years.

The calls to your doctor were not going as smoothly as your job, though. You leave a message every four hours until she finally calls you back. She was concerned since the suppressants she’d prescribed are the strongest out there, and if your scent was overpowering them they were either defective or your scent glands were overproducing. It wasn’t an immediate threat to your health, it only meant you’d be drawing more attention than you wanted to. Still, it’s annoying and makes life so much harder than it needs to be.

After she prescribed twice the amount, she said she’d look over your tests from the latest visit before she hung up the phone. You groaned once the call ended. You seriously needed a break from your second gender. Taking the prescribed double dose of suppressants, you got ready to go out to the corner cafe to read and drink coffee. Hopefully the new amount will keep steady. You really don’t want to deal with any more aggressive alphas this week. For good measure you pull on Sero’s jacket, allowing his scent to cover you, then grab your keys, phone, wallet and a book and begin the walk.

When you arrive at the cafe you order a hot mocha, curl into the small corner booth and crack open the book. You got lost in the ink and your mind floated along the adventure, putting yourself in the shoes of the main character and leading the mission to take down the corrupt queen who’d framed you for killing the prince of a neighboring kingdom. You were ripped from the fantasy world when a bright, enthusiastic blonde came up and tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. His smile was as bright as his hair.

“Sorry to scare you cutie, but I couldn’t help but notice that jacket of yours smells an awful lot like my friend Sero!” You smile softly at the blonde.

“Well if we’re talking about the same Sero Hanta, then your nose would be correct. This is his jacket.” His eyes widen as he nods.

“Oh my gosh you must be the omega he keeps talk-” The blonde’s words became muffled by a large hand. A hand that belonged to the very man you were talking about. Sero smiles apologetically down at you as he shoves the blonde back to where you assume they’re sitting.

“Sorry about Kami, he’s… extroverted.” You smile back at him, mostly because you’re happy to see him again.

“It’s no problem at all. He recognized your scent on me.” He looked down and only then realized you’re wearing his jacket, and he beams at you. Then he takes a glance at the booth you’re sitting all alone at, his smile falling just a bit.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” You take a moment to think about the offer, then agree with a nod. Your omega couldn’t pass up more time with him.

As you approach the booth you notice there are more people with Sero than you anticipated. There were four other people sitting there. Sero introduced all of them from left to right. Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Ashido Mina, and the happy blonde from earlier is Kaminari Denki. You introduce yourself and when Sero slid into the booth, you followed after him.

These five are a tight pack, and you learn they all met in high school. Bakugo’s brash personality made you wary at first, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s just like that with everyone. He makes a bit of a snippy remark, which you easily counter, and he smirks while the rest smile or snicker. It would seem they like you.

You can’t tell what their second genders are, and you mentally kick yourself for even wondering in the first place. Their genders are none of your concern, but you can’t blame yourself when you’re constantly alert because of your own stupid second gender. As it turns out, you don’t need to wait very long to find out.

This time you smell your own scent as it permeates the air around you. You swear under your breath at the stupid suppressants that obviously can’t so their job, and the others snap their gazes to you. You sigh.

“Yeah, that scent is me. My suppressants flaked again. Sorry about that.” They all nodded, seemingly understanding. Sero must have told them about the other day. Of course, it would soon repeat. It didn’t take long for an alpha to take notice of your scent. The man -- why is it always the largest males??? -- strides up to the booth with a cocksure grin and leans down to inhale your scent. You duck away from him, into Sero, and let out an albeit small warning growl that was drowned in Sero and Kirishima’s. He ignored them all the same.

“Hey there little omega, you smell real nice. You wanna come hang with me instead? We can have some fun together with my buddies, what do you say?” The others stayed quiet. They’re going to let you defend yourself before they do anything in case they end up escalating the situation. You turn your head and lift your shoulder, hiding your scent gland.

“I’m not interested, thank you. Please leave me alone.” You hoped to whatever deity watched over you that the man would leave. Before anyone could react the alpha grabbed your wrist in a vice grip, yanking you roughly from your seat. You chirp, your scent turning sour and the entire pack abruptly stands, baring their fangs at the man. It barely registered in your head that Kirishima and Bakugo are alphas, Mina is a beta, and Kaminari is an omega, their fangs giving them away.

The man tightens his grip on your wrist and you cry out, your bones creaking under the pressure. With no other options you did the one thing that would get him to let go, and sank your fangs into his wrist. You jump back into Sero, who wraps an arm around you protectively.

“You bit me, you bitch!” He raises an arm, clearly about to try and hit you, but a large hand grabs his wrist. Surprisingly enough it’s Bakugo, and his growl is laced into his words.

“Leave now, or you lose a hand.” Sero speaks up from above you.

“You might wanna listen, amigo. That’s Dynamight.” The alpha rips his arm from Bakugo’s hold and looks down at you, and you growl at him as he scoffs and walks away, apparently not ready to fight the #2 pro hero over an omega.

You all sit back down and you pull up the sleeve of the jacket to inspect the already forming bruise on your wrist. Your nose wrinkles with a half-angry half-pained snarl. Tenderly, Sero takes your wrist and lightly squeezes the sides of your forearm, against your bones, and your lack of reaction tells him nothing’s broken. Still, he growls at the offending bruise.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You shake your head and put a hand over his.

“It’s not worth it Sero. He’s probably long gone.” You turn to the rest of the pack.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Kirishima is the first to speak.

“Of course! That dude was a jerk. I just hope he doesn’t go around doing that to other omegas.” Bakugo, surprisingly, spoke next.

“Obviously we’d protect you. You’re a potent omega and quirkless, so you attract unwanted attention without even knowing or wanting to. Besides, if you’re gonna be Sero’s omega there’s no way in hell we’d let some extra handle you like that.” The implications make your face burn, and Kirishima smacks the blonde’s arm with a ‘Don’t just say that kind of thing, Katsuki.’

After an hour or two of talking, and shockingly no other aggressive alphas, they all walk you home to your apartment. Sero wanted to check on your wrist again, so you invited them all in, but they all had something else to do, so you were left alone with Sero. The fact that the one alpha you desperately wanted to be around is alone with you in your apartment is both great and terrible. Thankfully, you have self-control and his own suppressants are working perfectly fine.

He inspected the darkening bruise on your wrist, his large hands gripping your arm tenderly and turning it gently as he prods at the skin. It doesn’t hurt too bad, so you assure him you’ll be perfectly fine. Eventually he leaves with a hug and you sigh once the door is closed, relieved that you were able to keep your omega at bay and your hands to yourself.

A couple days later you get a text from him and the two of you text often, asking how each other’s day went, if anything interesting had happened. You didn’t leave your apartment unless you needed to, since your suppressants clearly weren’t working, so you made sure to cut grocery trips short and keep away from any alphas that seemed a bit aggressive. Sero invited you to hang out with the pack at their house, and you obliged.

They lived in a huge house all together. Most of the rooms were sealed so no scents or sounds could go in or out for ruts and heats, and there were several spare rooms that were empty and waiting for more pack members. It was a fun hangout, filled with video games and good conversation, and even better food which Bakugo cooked. Sero had an arm around you whenever he was close, and you definitely didn’t mind. Your suppressants flaked in the middle, again, and Sero insisted he walk you home. With him walking you home there weren’t any alphas trying to get you this time. You ended up going over to hang out with them a lot when you weren’t working, and eventually Sero began to court you.

Obviously, you accepted, and after a few months of dating and scenting, your overactive scent glands seemed to mellow out, Sero’s scent mixing with it. Your suppressants are lasting much longer now, which is a good sign. Now that you’re Sero’s omega, he often helped you with your heats and you’d help him with his ruts, and he was strong-willed enough that he hadn’t marked or knotted you in the middle of things.

About a year and a half into the relationship you realize you really love him. Sure you had arguments, but everything was settled through calmed discussions over coffee or tea, and you came to understand each other well enough that arguments became few and far between.

You’re happy with Sero, so when your heat came around early and he was there to help, you were going to let him know just how much you loved him.

You texted him once you felt it starting. He was there within half an hour, and you pounced on him once the font door closed, smothering him in hot, wet kisses, eager to feel him inside you. He carries you to the bedroom, and you two are quick in shedding all of your clothes. He lays you on your back with a hand on your throat as he growls into your ear, making a hot shudder roll down your spine.

“Are you ready for me omega?” You whine and nod, your slick already dripping down your folds. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Please alpha, I need your cock.” He growls again, satisfied with your answer, and he presses into you, bottoming out with one firm thrust. You chant his name like a mantra as he set a bruising pace, rutting into you recklessly, wet skin slapping on skin the only other sound beside your whimpers and his growls. His teeth nip at your shoulder, sharp fangs testing your skin and claws digging into the fat of your hips. His cock is so deep, hot swollen tip kissing your cervix with every full-bodied thrust and sending you into a euphoric haze. Your own claws are sinking into his back, leaving little trails of red and blood beading down the lines. It drives him wild every time.

“That’s right, little omega. Mark me up, I’m all yours. Fuck you’re so pretty underneath me like this.” His hands grip behind your knees and press them into your chest, folding you nearly in half as he plows into you further. The angle knocks the breath from your lungs and your eyes roll back. You can feel his knot beginning to swell, feel how his thrusts are getting more controlled and his grip on your thighs tighten from the sheer concentration it’s taking for him not to breed you. You have other plans. Between wheezed breaths you squeak out.

“H-hantaaa~” He slows to a near snail’s pace, grinding his slowly growing cock into your sweet spot, a smirk stretching across his face as you splutter from the sudden change. He’s enjoying making you squirm.

“What is it, sweetness? Tell your alpha what you need.” You pant, chest heaving as much as the position will allow.

“Want your mark, want your knot~ Wanna be bred Hanta! I want your pups!” He stills completely, claws digging into the fat of your thighs with enough force to have drops of blood falling to the sheets beneath you. You’d never said anything like that in the heat of the moment. He can’t have heard you correctly...right?

“Princesa, do you know what you just said?” The seriousness in his tone has you sobering, but even before you knew exactly what you were saying. You nod frantically, wiggling your hips to get him to move again.

“Yes! I know alpha! Please, give me your knot~” His growl makes your bones shake, and with no warning he drops your legs around his waist and leans down so his face is buried in your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna trust you with this baby girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His fangs sink into your scent gland just as he picks up his brutal pace, and the euphoria makes you cum hard, your whole body locking up and mouth falling open in a silent scream. He plows into you as you regain your breath, and you bite down on his own scent gland as hard as you can, tearing into his skin with every intention of leaving a pretty scar for the world to see.

His knot swells more, and he’s pushing it into you with every ounce of power he can generate with that gorgeous body of his. With one final snap of his hips he locks his body to yours and cums hard, ropes of hot seed filling you to the brim. He collapses on top of you and laps at the wound on your neck and you do the same. After a few minutes he leans back and cups your face in his hand, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Are you alright?” You nod, nuzzling into his palm.

“I’m sorry. I was gonna talk to you about it, but my heat came early.” He kisses your forehead gently, brushing the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s okay, pretty thing. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him.

“Of course I do. I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you too.” You lay there, tangled in each other’s arms until his knot goes down. You whine at the loss when his cock slips out of you, clawing at him to come back because you’re still in heat. His hand gently wraps around your neck, a low chuckle on his lips.

“Relax, we’re far from done.” His already hard erection rubs up and down your glistening folds, barely stimulating your clit, teasing you until tears prick your eyes and you’re beggin him to fuck you again.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna breed you so well, You’re gonna look so pretty all big and round with my pups.” He groans at the image he’d conjured in his head and you squeal as he slams his hips into you.

You’re in for a wonderfully long night.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he���s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[the-atlas-sister]

The First Date (Damian Wayne X Reader)

So in this, you are the daughter of Green Arrow, Oliver Queen (NOT THE ARROW VERSION!! THE ANIMATED AND COMIC VERSION), and Black Canary, Dinah Lance. Also in this Dinah is dead and you have taken on the role of Black Canary

"Done!" Abby (moi!!!) exclaimed, tying the hair tie in my hair. "Aw, you look so good!" She backed up, admiring her work.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smiling slightly. "I mean, I usually look beautiful but now I look even more beautiful," I joked.

"I know," Abby said, making me chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Six on the dot," Abby said, looking impressed. "Wow."

"It is Damian," I shrugged before my eyes widened. "I'm going on a date with Damian Wayne."

"Chill," y/b/f said, noticing my panic. "You asked him out, remember?"

"But-"

"Hey Damian," y/b/f said from the living room.

I looked at Abby, a panicked expression on my face. "You're okay," she whispered before leading me out of the bathroom.

Damian looked at me before mumbling something in Arabic. I was rusty when it came to other languages but I thought I caught "Beautiful..." which was enough to make my entire face turn red.

"Hey," I said, putting on a confident face. "You look good." My eyes scanned him. He wore a pair of nice black jeans and a matching skin-tight turtle-neck.

"You look..." His eyes scanned me.

"Gorgeous? Beautiful? Sexy?" I guessed, smirking at Damian blushed.

"Yes," Damian said, making me blush.

"Okay... well," Abby said, pushing me forward. "You two have fun," she said as I slipped on my shoes. "But not too much fun." She eyeballed Damian in a very best friend way. "And have her back by 10."

"And be safe!" Myloh added.

"Bye guys," I said, quickly ushering Damian out the door before closing it. "Sorry."

"I had a similar conversation with my brothers before I left," Damian said before cringing slightly. "Although it was a bit more-"

"I don't want to know," I said, shaking my head. "So, what do you have planned, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, walking down the apartment hallway.

"That's a surprise," Damian said with a stoic face.

"Not a huge fan of surprises," I said as we reached the elevator.

"You'll like this one," Damian stated matter-of-factly, pressing the button to the last level.

"Is that a fact?" I challenged as the elevator lowered.

"Yes," Damian stated, making me tilt my head. "I did some research and I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"I don't know if that was meant to be sweet but it came off as creepy," I chuckled, leaning on the elevator wall.

"I just meant- I asked Abby what you're interested in," Damian explained, slowly going pink.

"What'd she say?" I asked, both worried and curious.

"She explained your love of movies, books, the stars, and food," Damian stated as the doors slid open.

"So, which did you choose?" I questioned, walking backward out of the elevator.

"Still a surprise," Damian smirked, following me.

"Mhm, game on Mr. Wayne," I said, turning around and walking out the apartment building's front doors. My eyes widened a bit as I saw Damian's motorcycle parked in front of the building. "Seriously?" I asked, looking at him as he stood next to me.

"Complaining?" he asked, looking at me sideways.

"Not as long as I get to drive," I chuckled, approaching the motorcycle.

"No," Damian said, standing next to me. He grabbed one of the helmets before handing me the second one.

"I know how," I frowned.

"No," Damian repeated before blinking. "Strange, that felt familiar." He then shook his head before getting on the bike. "Come on," he said looking at me. I rolled my eyes but climbed on the bike behind him. "Hold on," he said before putting on his helmet.

"You sure you don't want to drive as a way to get me to hold on to you?" I teased, resting my head on Damian's shoulder. Damian tensed up, making me chuckle. "I was kidding," I reassured him, putting on the helmet and grabbing his shoulders.

Damian cleared his throat. "I-I respect you, but for your own safety, I suggest you put your arms around my waist."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Damian started the bike and drove out of his parking spot. My grip tightened as Damian sped up and we reached the highway. I grinned under the helmet as the adrenaline rushed through me due to the speed.

***

"You have to take me on your motorcycle more often," I said, letting out a breathy laugh and taking off my helmet.

"It's not really mine," Damian corrected, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike.

"But with Promythous-" I furrowed my brows, placing the helmet on the bike's seat.

"That was Robin's bike," Damian explained, leading me to the secret destination. He had parked a block away from the surprise place, just to keep the secrecy. "Damian Wayne does not have a motorcycle."

"Who's-" I continued, getting into pace next to Damian.

"My brother's," he shrugged with a small smug smile.

"You stole your brother's motorcycle?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"He told me, women love men with motorcycles," Damian said. "So I took that as an invitation for me to 'borrow' his." He smirked to himself at the thought. "Also, my other brother said I should. I'm not one to listen to him but, I did enjoy the idea of stealing Jason's bike." I smiled at his mini-rant. He seemed to notice. "I'm sorry for oversharing," he said, his face returning to it's neutral state.

"No, it's fine," I reassured him as we turned a corner. "It's nice hearing you talk more."

Damian blinked, obviously surprised by my answer. "What... would you like to talk about?" he asked slowly.

"You," I said. "I don't know much about you."

"O-oh," Damian stuttered, which was a rare sound. "I grew up with the League of Assassins."

"The group your father trained with?" I asked, interested to learn more. "Lead by Ra AlGugl?"

"My grandfather," Damian confirmed. "When my father was training, he met my mother. She- she tricked him into having... intercourse with her. That's how I was created. My father left before I was born and I was raised by my grandfather and mother. I was trained from birth to be the master assassin. I was supposed to be the best. There was no room for error."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," I said.

"I suppose not," Damian hummed. "I loved my grandfather very much, or more admired him. He told me we would destroy the world and rebuild it in our own image." He scanned our surroundings, almost as if he was imagining how he could make each detail superior.

"That's still partly your mindset isn't it?" I asked, making Damian's gaze turn to me. "You see the world and people and just imagine how you can make them better." Damian blinked. "You even yourself believe you're better than everyone. You think you'll be a better Batman, a better hero."

"I don't-"

"I'm not critiquing, just observing," I stated. I blushed under Damian's intense stare. "I-I interrupted, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"

"She's dead," Damian said.

"Oh," I said.

"She wasn't a mother anyway," Damian continued. "Last I saw her she tried to create an adult 'perfect' clone of me and killed him."

"And I thought my dad was hardcore," I mumbled. "How did she...?"

"Helicopter crashed after trying to kill me, my father, and Grayson," Damian said almost casually.

My eyes widened. "You didn't deserve it," I said as we turned yet another corner. Damian turned to me. "You deserved a loving childhood. Not one with a group of assassins and Batman."

Damian's eyes softened. "I did get, what you call, a loving childhood with my father," he said. "He would set up movie nights. And my brothers are... overly loving, at least Grayson."

"He's Nightwing, right?" I asked, grinning a bit. Damian nodded. "I've met him. He has a bit of an older brother feel. And I'm sure he understands how hard it is to grow up with someone like Bruce."

"He has made it very clear he does," Damian scoffed. "As had Todd." I gave him a questioning look. "Red Hood."

"Oh, never met him," I mumbled.

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

"Here," Damian said, stopping in front of a small and quaint ice cream shop.

"Ice cream?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "On Friday."

"You said you and your mother used to always had ice cream on Fridays," Damian said shyly.

I let out a small laugh. "You- this is really sweet," I said, a bit surprised. I remembered when I told him that detail about my childhood.

***Flashback***

"Tell me more about your mother," Damian said after a while of silence. "I assume she's where you got your power?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "She was- awesome. She was the first Black Canary. Trained in thousands of martial art styles."

"You're telling me things I already know," Damian stated, making me look at him.

"She was a pretty cool mom," I chuckled, crossing my legs on the bed. "She couldn't cook though. That was something she wasn't taught. She'd always make time for us to have an ice cream night. Every Friday." I smiled at the memory. "Sometimes she'd come back from patrol at midnight then wake me up, just so we could still eat ice cream."

"Do you still do it?" Damian questioned, turning to face me fully. "With your father?"

"Not usually," I stated, trying not to sound bitter. "He's usually busy with the Justice League and his company."

"How did she die?" Damian asked softly, making me go stiff.

"I was thirteen," I recited. "She and my dad went to face Prometheus. It was just in the early stages of my training-at least for the Canary cry, so I wasn't allowed to go. I- I remember my dad calling the house. He told me he'd be home soon, but something happened to Mom. Apparently, Prometheus slit her throat. She didn't want anyone to find out her identity so she insisted that only Martian Manhunter or Batman operated on her."

"But it was too late," Damian assumed. I nodded.

"Dad and I hardly even spoke after that," I sighed. "It hit us both- hard, but after a year, we got through it. He's still protective though."

"What about your powers?"

"I don't use them," I stated. "My mom died before we got far in training."

"Why don't you continue?" Damian asked. "I assume the league would be open to help or your friends."

"I can't," I sighed. "My vocal cords are too old."

"That sounds like an excuse," Damian stated. "I was unaware you were a quitter, Queen."

***End of flashback***

"I just figured you'd enjoy it," Damian shrugged, turning his head to the side to hide his smile.

"I do," I chuckled. "Although this is very cliche."

"I have seen as such in many of the movies Grayson forced me to watch," Damian admitted.

"Thank you, Damian," I smiled before rushing towards the outside counter, Damian following. "Hello!" I said to the person at the counter.

"Hello," the person said. She was a pretty girl, seemingly teen age with flawless makeup. She looked like she belonged at Dutch Brothers.

"I would like two scoops of y/f/i.c (your favirote ice cream) in a cup, please," I said before turning to Damian.

"Awesome," the girl said. "And you?"

Damian glanced at me. "None for me," he answered.

"You're not going to get anything?" I asked.

"I've never had ice cream," Damian admitted.

"Never?" I asked in shock.

"No," Damian said, his face showing me he didn't understand the problem. I scanned his face before turning to the girl.

"He'll have one scoop of almond in a cup," I stated.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Be right with you."

"I said I didn't want any," Damian said, looking at me.

"You've never had it and you can't just sit there watching me eat," I protested. "Plus, I think you'll like it."

"Why is that?" Damian challenged.

"I'm an observer of people and you seem like an almond guy," I summarized.

"Explain your thinking Miss Queen," Damian said.

"Well, almond is more of a traditional Arabic ice cream flavor (please correct me if I'm wrong, I got this off the internet), and knowing you, you prefer salty and savory over sweet," I explained before leaning back and spreading my hands like I was presenting an amazing discovery.

"We shall see," Damian just said.

"Here," the girl chimed in, interrupting our discussion. She handed us our ice cream.

"Thank you," I said. I placed my ice cream on the counter before pulling out my wallet, but Damian had already paid. "I was going to pay," I said as he handed me my ice cream.

"It's proper etiquette for the man to pay," Damian said, leading me away from the ice cream shop.

"But it's not required," I chuckled. "Besides, we're both the children of billionaires." Damian didn't answer as he led me to a small park beside the shop. "I'll just pay next time."

"Next time?" Damian asked, stopping in front of a blanket with a projector on it.

"Yeah," I smirked. "If I haven't scared you away."

"Not at all," Damian said, sitting on the blanket. He motioned for me to sit down and I obliged.

"Try the ice cream," I said excitedly. Damian glanced at the tan-colored ice cream before taking a scoop and eating it. I stared at him, waiting for some type of reaction. His eyes widened before he took another scoop. "I told you!" I smirked.

"Coincidence," Damian scoffed but took more bites.

"Mhm," I hummed, leaning back on my free hand. I looked around, noticing a screen across from the projector. "You set this up?"

"Pennyworth did," Damian corrected. "Although I choose the film."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What'd you choose?"

"y/f/a/m (your favirote animated movie)," Damian stated. My face lit up. "Abby told me it was your favorite. Although I don't understand how or why a film made for children would be your favorite."

"You've never seen it have you?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "Then you'll figure out that it's not really a children's film. And you'll discover the superior soundtrack."

[sandbees]

A few about the Great Seven interacting with Twisted Wonderland characters VIA Yuu. 👀 I only have one word summary; Chaos.

Who would meet the Great Seven first? Obviously the first years (along with Ortho and Grim). They’re Yuu’s best friends after all.

Actually, it was Friday, the last day of the week. And coincidentally, that night would be a special night at the House of Mouse. Ariel and her sisters would be performing that night.

Mickey told Yuu that that they could invite anyone to watch the performance. So Yuu went to get special permission to take their friends along with them.

After kidnapping Ortho After Yuu gathers everyone, they explain that they’re going out to see a special performance at their workplace.

Keep in mind that no one knows exactly what Yuu’s new job was except Grim and Crowley. So naturally everyone was in on it and curious. (Only Grim knows about Yuu meeting the Great Seven though)

Ace: So where do you work at?

Yuu: I work at a club.

Epel: ...As in a strip club or a book club?

Yuu: Wtf Epel? It’s like a club but no alcohol. It’s technically a restaurant but they have live shows and put on a lot of performances so-

Deuce: Oh! That’s cool, we get to see it together!

Yuu: Actually I’m not going to be with you guys. I’m on duty that day so I’ll be waiting tables. But I’ll join during break.

Ace: Really? Bummer.

Ortho: Aw, I wanted to hang out with you too! But it will be fun nonetheless. :D

Yuu tells them to wait downstairs as they go upstairs to get everything ready.

They are low-key nervous, because the House of Mouse isn’t...exactly normal by Twisted Wonderland standards.

Meanwhile, Grim was telling the first years about Yuu’s experiences there.

Grim: You know, the House of Mouse is really popular, I’ve heard about a lot of customers Yuu has met.

Deuce: This job must have been hard...I’m glad Yuu got it though!

Grim: Yeah, they pay them 5,000 madol! Isn’t that great?!

Sebek: 5,000 madol?! That’s a lot more than being a waiter.

Ace: In a week? I mean having a salary of 5,000 is pretty impressive.

Grim: Hehe, it’s actually 5,000 a day.

First Years: WHAT?!

Jack: To be able to pay that much...the owner must be wealthy.

Epel: Yuu lucked out!

When Yuu comes down, the first years are asking a billion questions.

How did you find a job with such a high pay??? Is the work good?? Is your boss nice to you?? Explain everything-

Yuu assured them that their job is just waiting a bunch of tables, and that they’re payed well because the place is very popular.

Anyways, Yuu tells them that they’re going now and leads them upstairs.

“Shouldn’t we be going to the hall of mirrors-?” “It won’t work.”

The group kind of loses their mind as Yuu casually pushes Ace into their mirror, Grim follows behind.

“Come on, or do I have to push you through the mirror like I did with Ace?”

Safe to say is that they go through the mirror and are greeted with a very lavish dressing room.

“Wait woah this isn’t Mickey’s dressing room.”

Yuu finds a note and read it out loud. Apparently Mickey moved the mirror to a new room so they could have privacy. Anything in the room is for their use.

“I’m going to cry. He’s so nICE I DON’T DESERVE THIS-“

Yuu is pretty happy with this arrangement, actually. They also begin to explain the club’s shtick to their friends.

“So this is basically a club for entertainment with live shows and also cartoons on the screen. Oh, and sometimes a cat named Pete tries to sabotage the show so he can kick everyone out and make this his club.” “Isn’t that illegal-“ “Not if there’s no police.”

So anyways Yuu leads them outside and they run into Goofy.

Sebek: Is that-?

Yuu: Hi Goofy, I’m bringing my friends to a table for the show-

Goofy: Yuu! There you are! You’re needed at table 14.

Yuu: What? But my shift hasn’t started-

Goofy: Reservations from Hades himself.

Yuu: Oh shit, ok yeah I’ll be there as soon as possible-

Ortho: Hades? As in the God of the Underworld?

Yuu: Yes, I’ll explain later, more importantly let’s go find you a table.

Ace: I think not telling us you actually met one of the GREAT SEVEN!

Yuu: I did tell you; and you didn’t believe me.

Everyone is vibrating in nervousness and excitement. Especially Ortho. I mean, this is the GREAT SEVEN we’re talking about!

Yuu decides to introduce them to Hades. But surprise surprise, it’s all of the Great Seven!

Yuu’s first year friends are going to pass out from shock. Oof.

With some inquiry, Yuu explains to the Great Seven that the friends they brought were from Twisted Wonderland.

Let’s just say that the First Years got invited to sit at their table. (Sebek is quaking at the idea of sitting with the Witch of Thorns)

So while Yuu leaves to start work (not after taking all of their orders first, of course), the Great Seven begin asking the first years + Grim questions.

The first years are expectantly tense, but they loosen up.

Ursula and Jafar are a little disappointed that no one from their dorm is present, but they seem to easily forget that after Yuu tells them that they know people from their respective dorms anyways.

Yuu also gives them a little more information they found about their respective dorms, so that they don’t feel...left out? (Satisfied is a better word for it)

Ursula pets Grim and Jafar feeds him crackers. Grim does not complain, he’s fine. He becomes more compliant as his tuna arrives.

And some of the other’s thoughts? Well...

The Queen of Hearts almost blew up in anger at Ace and Deuce. They are idiots that do nOT KNOW THE PROPER WAY TO SPEAK TO THEIR SUPERIORS AND THEY HAVE BROKEN AT LEAST 359 RULES ALREADY-

But somehow, the Queen of Hearts warms up to the idiotic duo. She sees them as...annoying children she has to babysit but they’re also really adorable that she can’t stay mad at them forever. Plus, Deuce is trying and Ace has these wonderful card tricks that would make her Jester cry.

So at first, she does not approve, but as the night progresses she does. 8/10 would meet the ADeuce combo again.

Scar and Jack...hm. Well, I don’t think they’d get along of Scar’s sense of morality and justice of the past was brought up. However, the villains all agreed to not bring up their villainous past because they didn’t want to scare away Yuu/make them wary and distrustful of them. Same goes for the first years.

Anyways, Scar is impressed at how buff Jack is. He isn’t surprised though - he expected residents of his dorm to be powerful. Scar lays down some well deserved praise and Jack eats it up with a tail wag. Jack also talks about his dorm and what the dorm represents. Scar’s ego rises 100x and Scar becomes somewhat...egotistical. Well, maybe not like in a “I’m shoving my ego in your face” type of ego but in a “This pleases me and I will treat you kinder” ego.

Basically, Scar opens up a little more to Jack as the night progresses. Like a mentor/student bond.

The Evil Queen and Epel...well, the Evil Queen was quite picky with how Epel was acting. Yes, he had the proper posture but really, he was using the wrong forks to eat that particular kind of food. She expected better from someone who came from her dorm. So she ended up chastising him and scolding him for being “improper”. Like Vil.

She was shocked to say when Epel accidentally snapped back at her, before returning to his more “princely” persona. Ah, so the child had more than meets the eye. She tried a different approach, as in trying to ease Epel into talking to her. Certainly, Epel was much more headstrong and willful than that naive Snow White.

So, the Evil Queen and Epel have a rocky start, but by the end of the show.

Hades and Ortho...well, that’s a combo you never see everyday. But I think Hades would basically adopt Ortho. As in suddenly he gets father vibes from the kid. He’s also particularly interested in his own dorm, and asks Ortho about it. Ortho’s pretty chatty with Hades, and is happy to tell Hades about his dorm! He also asks a few questions himself; which Hades happily obliged to.

...and then it turns into Ortho talking about Idia and how wonderful he is. And Hades is like, “damn, this kid has a wonderful big brother. How come my younger siblings act like shit to me-“

So Hades silently swore to the River of Styx to keep this child safe, and Ortho had a fun time interacting with Hades!

Sebek and Maleficent...well, it could have been worse.

Poor Sebek was tense and tight lipped for most of the night. He really wanted to make a good impression on Malleus’ grandmother. (I don’t think Sebek has met Maleficent yet so-)

Maleficent was patient, however. She knew Fae kind were raised to think of Maleficent as a high authority figure that should be treated with upmost respect. Unlike the other kingdoms; the Valley of Thorns praised Maleficent like a goddess. She didn’t blame Sebek for acting like he was.

So she started with baby steps. Talking about how wonderful it was to meet her grandson’s bodyguard, how Malleus must have grown to be a strong magician, how she wished she had stayed to know more about her grandson.

Actually, the breaking point between the tense atmosphere between the two was Malleus. Sebek opens up a little more as he continues to talk to Maleficent.

At the end of the night, they’ve only talked about Malleus, but Maleficent was content with that. After all, keeping up with what her grandson was doing was more than enough.

By the end of the night, the First Years enjoyed the special performance and their time with the Great Seven. Things went well especially when Yuu came to join during their break.

So when it was time to go, everyone had happily said their goodbyes as they were ready to return.

“Oh, before I forget...Yuu, I have almost completed the portals for the others so do expect one of us to pop in soon.” “Oh, ok!” “...THEY MIGHT VISIT US?!”

Everyone is low key excited to meet again though.

So, the first years go through the mirror and stay at Ramshackle, chatting away at their time at the House of Mouse.

_=_

Yeah, this was a looonngg write, I’m actually going to do the rest of the TW cast in another post. I hope you enjoyed this one! :)

[prof-peach]

if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 30 - Epilogue [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Omg here it is my loves, the final chapter! ❤ Thank you so much for your wonderful support throughout the series, you made me so happy and I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did! ❤❤ I love you! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions of sex and drinking.

Word Count: 4100

                                              3 Years Later

The deep comfort of sleep surrounding you as you snuggled deeper into the covers slowly disappeared as you felt yourself being pulled back, a smile curling your lips. You heaved a sigh as you felt soft kisses on your neck, making you giggle.

Both of you had gone to sleep quite late thanks to your…late night activities, and you were nowhere near ready to face the day, but this was a nice way to wake up.

“Hi,” you said without opening your eyes and felt his breathy laugh warming your neck.

“Hi.”

You whined into your pillow as his arms tightened around you and he buried his face to the crook of your neck while you ran your fingertips over his arm.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, professor.”

“Who says I can’t finish?” Spencer murmured into your skin and you opened your eyes to turn your head.

You were one hundred percent sure that you would never get tired of this view. Spencer’s hair was a mess, quite literally the meaning of bedhead while he watched you with a smile on his lips, his hazel eyes gleaming with mischief.

“I can think of two people who might disagree with you,” you said and as if on cue, you heard the pitter-patter of little feet along with some gleeful squeals echoing through the hall. Spencer let out a chuckle, dropping his head to your shoulder and you grinned.

“In three, two…”

“Mowning!”

“Open? Open?” you heard the sweet babbling overlapping with each other and you grabbed your dressing gown off the floor, then put it on and went to open the door but as soon as you did, a little figure wheezed past you to climb to the bed while the other one clutched to your leg, looking up at you with bright, shining eyes.

“Hi Daisy!” you cooed and bent down to pick her up while she held her plushie tightly and you turned to see Spencer lifting Laura in the air, making her let out a screech which turned into a giggle.

“Whoa, did you get bigger in a night?!” Spencer asked Laura who nodded fervently, babbling something with only a couple of words clear. You approached the bed to drop Daisy on the soft fluffy covers, making her laugh happily before she scrambled to give Spencer a big kiss on his cheek.

“Where did my kiss go?” you wondered out loud and in a second, you were attacked by two overly enthusiastic toddlers. You burst into laughter and pressed a kiss on top of their heads, then stood up again.

“Okay, who wants to come downstairs with me?”

“Me!” Laura jumped in bed while Daisy bit on the ear of her plushie before she shifted closer to Spencer, obviously still sleepy.

“Daisy?”

She shook her head and rubbed at her eye with her small fist, and Spencer reached out to push back a curl falling over her eyes as she yawned.

Your mother had a point, even if they looked almost identical, their personalities were way too different. Daisy was quite possibly the calmest toddler you had ever seen, she barely cried when she was focused on something, and especially when you put one of her picture books in front of her for her to color them. Spencer had said she most probably took after him.

But Laura? Laura definitely took after you, and your mother and Mina swore by it.

She was a tiny hurricane, completely unstoppable once she had decided to cause chaos. She had even started walking two months before Daisy, and you could barely take her eyes off of her without her sneaking off to somewhere to hide and “scare” you.

But even if they couldn’t be more different, there was one thing for sure. You loved both of them so much that it surprised you how full your heart felt whenever you looked at them.

“Alright then,” you hoisted Laura up, “Let’s go, little monkey!”

“Go!” she repeated, her voice full of excitement and you made your way downstairs, walking past Spencer’s study, then your study before you reached the huge living room with the open kitchen. You put Laura down, then opened the fridge.

“Okay Lulu, which one do we want today, milk or juice?” you asked but met with silence. You frowned, then closed the fridge door to look around, but she was nowhere to be found.

“I looked away for one second,” you muttered to yourself, then peeked your head around the doorframe to see the flash of a familiar mop of curly hair disappear into your study in full speed.

“No no, that’s mommy’s work, that’s mommy’s work!” you rushed to the study and lifted her up before she could touch the board, standing on her tiptoes. She let out a whine, still trying to reach the board and you shook your head.

“Nope, we are not messing up this seating chart, it took me days to complete it,” you said and turned around with her in your arms, then pointed at the two pieces of sample napkins on your table, “Want to help me?”

Laura nodded fervently, “Yes!”

“Which one is pretty?”

Laura looked at you, then looked at the napkins before she pointed at the one on the right.

“This.”

“Oh the pink one?”

“Pink one.” she repeated and looked up at you, “Good job!”

You let out a laugh,

“Yes baby, good job!” you said and walked out of your study with her, closing the door behind you just in case, then entered the kitchen again to find Spencer putting Daisy in her seat. Daisy gave you a big smile, letting you see her baby teeth and you blew her a kiss, then sat Laura down next to her.

“Was she in your study?” Spencer asked as he pulled you closer and you nodded.

“I’m telling you, she can teleport.”

“I doubt that’s the case,” he laughed, handing you a cup of coffee before sipping his own and you inhaled the scent of the coffee as you checked your e-mails.

“Oh babe, dinner tonight at my mom’s place,” you looked up from your phone, “You didn’t forget, right?”

Spencer shook his head, nuzzling into your neck. “Nope. At 8.”

You giggled, running your fingers through his curls, “You’re going to be late for work, professor.”

He heaved a sigh and nodded before he pulled back almost hesitantly and pointed at the twins with his thumb, “Do you want me to drop them off?”

“I got it, no worries.” You stood on your tiptoes to peck him on the lips, “Go. Don’t be late tonight!”

“Cross my heart,” he smiled at you before he kissed both Daisy and Laura, “Hey, you two behave for mommy, deal?”

“Hm?” Laura asked, blinking up at him as she grabbed Daisy’s toy from her and he let out a laugh before he grabbed his satchel.

“See you later!”

“Bye time!” Daisy waved her hand and Laura’s head shot up,

“Bye bye!”

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together as Spencer closed the door behind him, “We will have breakfast, then we will go and see grandma, how does that sound?”

                                                  ***

The best part of having your own company was that you could pick and choose your own clients while letting the rest of the clients to the others. Especially after the twins, that had made things so much easier.

Your business was flourishing and you got to choose your working hours and the couples you wanted to work with.

“I know you guys said you wanted something small,” you said as you walked through the doors to the wedding venue, “But I wanted to make sure you know you have other options.”

There was no answer for a moment and you looked over your shoulder to look at the couple.

“Garcia?” you said and Luke let out a whistle.

“I mean it looks… it looks good.”

“It looks like something out of a fairytale.” Garcia whispered and turned to you, “But Y/N-“

“I know, you have a budget.” You snapped your fingers, “The thing is, the owner of the venue is a good friend of mine, so I’ll talk him into lowering the price a lot. Besides, he owes me one after I got him so many weddings.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Garcia stared at you, “We could have this venue?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I have four other venues to show you, but if you want this one after seeing those, yes. Oh and, before I forget—“ you grabbed your phone and tossed it to Luke, “How would you feel about this car for the wedding?”

He looked at the screen and blinked a couple of times. “You’re joking.”

“Not really.”

“Let me see,” she said and took a look at the screen, then turned to you, “Whose car is this?”

You shifted your weight, “Uh- mine.”

“No it’s not, your car is outside. I know that because Luke stood there and watched it for a whole minute.”

“Well,” you cleared your throat, “Nolan bought twins ponies the other day and I guess while he was at it, he decided to throw in a car for me. But I’m not much of a bright red car person, I prefer mine in black. So?”

“Penny?” Luke turned to Garcia, “Please?”

She held up her hands, “I don’t care about the car, I care about the venue.”

“Yes!” Luke pumped a fist in the air and turned to you, “You sure about this?”

“It’s just there in the garage man, I’m more than happy to let you drive it whenever you want.”

Luke pulled you into a tight hug, making you let out a laugh and he pulled back when his phone started ringing.

“Sorry, it’s Emily.”

“Oh tell her I said hi!” Garcia said and he pecked her on the lips, then answered the phone and walked out of the hall.

“I’ll never get tired of being right,” you motioned at her, “Told you.”

“I know, I know…” she let out a squeal, “This is so pretty though, Y/N! I mean I knew you were good at your job, I just didn’t know you were this good.”

You fixed your hair in an exaggerated smug manner and winked at her.

“Seating chart is ready too,” you said, “Laura almost crashed it today, but…”

Her smile widened, “Aw, how are my Lulu and Daze?” she asked, “You should’ve brought them with you!”

“Trust me, we wouldn’t get anything done,” you said with a laugh, “I can’t really focus on anything else while they’re around. And you know how they get when they see you.”

She pressed a hand on her chest, “I swear, you and Reid made the cutest babies I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

You grinned at her as Luke walked into the hall again, flipping the phone in his hand.

“There’s a case,” he said almost apologetically and Garcia nodded.

“Go, I’ll handle this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” she said and kissed him, “I won’t decide on anything without you, I promise.”

“I fixed a pre cake tasting for you guys at this new pastry shop but she can try them first,” you told Luke and he let out a whine.

“You know, in times like these I get why Reid quit.”

“Right, because he quit over pastries,” you deadpanned and he heaved a sigh.

“I’ll see you two later.”

“Be careful!” Garcia called out and he nodded, then walked out of the hall. You threw an arm over Garcia’s shoulder, then turned to her,

“So, cake tasting?”

“God yes.”

                                                     ***

You unbuckled your seatbelt as Spencer pulled over in front of your mother’s house, then turned to you to peck you on the lips.

“See, told you we could make it.”

“We’re half an hour late,” you giggled as you ran your fingertips over his stubble and he tilted his head.

“That’s not completely my fault.”

“Oh it isn’t?”

“You were the one who joined me in the shower,” he reminded you, and you shrugged your shoulders, playing coy.

“Still doesn’t make it my fault,” you stated, “And if my mother asks, you were—“

“Grading papers,” he finished your sentence for you and stole a kiss from you again, “Got it.”

You opened the car door, then got out of the car and climbed up the marble stairs with him until you reached the front door. You rang the doorbell and soon enough the maid opened it, the cheerful laughter and squealing reaching you. You and Spencer stepped in, and Daisy and Laura rushed to you as Spencer crouched down to hug them both.

“Finally!” your mother walked into the hallway as you pressed a kiss on top of Daisy and Laura’s heads, then straightened up to hug her, “You’re late honey!”

“Spencer was gradi—” you were cut off as Daisy came to hug your leg again, tugging at your sleeve, “Daze, baby-“

“Lulu!” she corrected you, pointing at herself and you let out a laugh, then hoisted her up.

“Aw, I’m sorry!” you said as you set her on your hip, and made your way to the dining room.

“Spencer was grading papers,” you told your mother as you entered the room and put Laura down, then she and Daisy ran to Lily who was sitting in their playground but as soon as she saw you, a smile warmed her face.

“Hi!”

“Hi there bug!”

“I’m teaching them animals, see!” she said as Daisy and Laura sat down and she opened the big book, pointing at a page.

“What is this?”

“Coo!”

“Cow, yes! What does the cow say?”

“Moo!” Daisy said before Laura could, looking up at Lily and she nodded.

“Exactly!”

“Good job!” Laura said quickly and Daisy nodded, clapping her hands together as if clapping herself. You could swear your heart melted and you smiled softly, keeping your eyes on them.

Soon enough, the dinner was ready and the nanny took the twins and Lily to the play room because they had already eaten and insisted they wanted to play there. Your mother had renovated the house around the time they were born so now they had a huge room filled with toys and games which the twins loved.

“So is everyone okay for Venice?” your mother asked as you sipped your wine, “It will be beautiful, we already made the arrangements.”

“Next month works for me,” you held up a hand, “Spencer?”

“Sure thing, it works for me too.”

“Kenz?” you asked and she bit on her lip, stealing a look at Mina and you tilted your head.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m good with next month,” Kenzie said quickly, “But um…”

“I might not be.” Mina said and your mother groaned.

“Mina, come on. Even you need a vacation.”

“It might not be the best idea at this time,” Mina said and you turned to Kenzie,

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not saying anything, it’s her news.”

“Mina?” Nolan said, “Is everything okay at work? Do you want me to make a call?”

“No no,” Mina shook her head, “It’s good- great, actually. I just didn’t want to tell you guys on the phone the other day, I was waiting for this dinner.”

You raised your brows and she entwined her fingers with Kenzie, shooting her an excited look.

“Two days ago, I was called into a meeting,” she said, “With Bradley and Paul. They…. They want me to be a partner.”

“Oh my God!” you covered your mouth, then pushed your chair back to rush to hug her. She hugged you back tight, a giddy laugh escaping from her lips.

“Honey!” your mother said, joining you “Finally!”

“You deserve it, Mina.” Nolan said, “Ditch the wine glasses everyone, we’re opening the champagne!”

“Congratulations!”

“You traitor, why didn’t you tell me?” you pointed at Kenzie who held up her hands,

“She bribed me.”

“She’s your wife!”

“Exactly, she knows what to bribe me with!” Kenzie exclaimed and you went to sit beside Spencer, still smiling as your mother took her seat as well.

“Did you know?” you turned to Spencer and he shrugged, grinning.

“I knew they were hiding something.”

Kenzie gasped, “Spencer!”

“I’m sorry Kenz but you have a terrible poker face.”

“He does have a point, babe.” Mina said as Kenzie pouted.

“Whatever.”

“So,” Spencer cleared his throat and turned to your mother and Nolan, “Speaking of people with terrible poker faces and something to say…”

You sat up straighter, “Wait, what is happening?”

“What is he talking about?”

“Spencer?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Spencer said, a look of mischief crossing his face, “They might, though.”

Your mother tilted her head, “When did you notice?”

“When I walked in.”

“Told you,” Nolan said, and your mother smiled slightly, pointing at Spencer.

“You, young man, are dangerous around announcements.”

“What is it with everyone betraying me tonight?” you asked, looking between them, “What’s going on?”

“So, Mina isn’t the only one who didn’t want to give big news over the phone,” your mother said as Nolan held her hand and squeezed it, and it dawned on you.

“Wait a minute…”

Your mother let out a laugh and held up her hand so that you could see the huge diamond ring on her finger, “We’re getting married!”

Instantly, there was an uproar. Spencer cheered while Kenzie let out a small scream, Mina lunged out of her seat to rush to them and you gawked at them, your jaw hanging.

“Jesus Christ,” you said as you made your way to your mother while one of the maids brought the champagne and your mother squealed like an excited girl and pulled you into a hug, making you laugh.

“Congratulations, you crazy kids,” you said as you pulled back “You deserve to be happy. And you-“ you pointed at Nolan, then smiled and hugged him, “The original deal still stands.”

“Wouldn’t dream of anything different,” he pressed a kiss into your hair and grabbed the champagne before he opened it with a loud pop, making everyone cheer. He quickly filled your glasses and you made your way to Spencer who wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer.

“I wanted to ask sooner,” Nolan announced, “But you know, you two got married, and then the twins…”

“We figured we would need to find a time you weren’t as busy,” your mother pointed at you, “To plan the wedding and all.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Well unfortunately, my client list is-“

“Not full!”

“Lies!” Kenzie and Spencer said at the same time and you let out a laugh, then raised your glass slightly.

“I was going to say available,” you winked at them, “I’ll send you the plans tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” your mother asked and you grinned.

“I’ve been planning your wedding for the last three years,” you said, making her gasp and Nolan laugh, “You guys seriously didn’t think I’d let someone else do it, did you?”

                                                     ***

By the time you got back home, the twins were way too sleepy. You and Spencer put them to bed as silently as possible, then you went to check the plans in your study while Spencer changed his clothes. You ran a hand through your hair and left your study to make your way to the living room before you put some music on and walked to the window to take a look outside.

The city was really beautiful at night.

“Thinking about the plans?” Spencer’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked over your shoulder, then a smile warmed your face.

“Something like that,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “You know it’s gonna be chaos, right? That wedding?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said and caressed your hair, “You got this, though.”

“Do me a favor,” you said, “Remind me that a lot in the future, at least until we send them off to their honeymoon.”

He let out a small chuckle, but before he could say anything, you felt small footsteps coming closer and you looked around his arm to see Laura peeking around the doorframe with a look of excitement.

“We have a fugitive!” Spencer said, making her squeal and run back to the hallway.

“I’ll be right back,” Spencer pecked you on the lips, making you laugh and you watched him leave the living room, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw a mop of curly brown hair behind the couch, along with a giggle.

“Oh well, I’m sure Daisy is sleeping!” you said loudly, walking around the living room, “She wouldn’t be here, would she?”

The giggles got louder and you found yourself smiling,

“Or is she….here?” you checked behind the curtain, and put your hands on your hips, “Not behind the curtain. Hmm, I wonder where she is?”

“Hewe!” Daisy jumped from behind the kitchen, and let out a gleeful scream when you lifted her up.

“Here she is!” you said, “What are you doing up baby? It’s sleepy time.”

“Lulu hewe too!”

“And she’s going to sleep too,” you tickled her stomach to make her giggle.

“Mommy, love you!” she said and you could feel your heart skipping a beat before you smiled at her brightly.

“I love you too baby,” you kissed her cheek, “Now let’s go to bed, hm?”

“Mkay!” she said and rested her head on your shoulder as you made your way to their bedroom.

“Hey, I was wondering where she was,” Spencer whispered as you put Daisy to bed while Laura hugged her teddy bear tighter. You pressed a kiss on Daisy’s head, then went to Laura’s bed and kissed her head too.

“I love you,” you said, “Now sleepy time, okay?”

“Love you mommy!” they both said and Spencer turned their nightlights on before he switched the light off, and both of you left their room to go to the living room, where the music was still playing. Spencer went to kitchen to get two glasses of wine and you pulled the curtain a little to look outside.

“I swear they get more energetic every day.”

“It’s normal,” Spencer said, handing you your glass and you took a sip as he wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling to your neck. “You know your mom will make them flower girls, right?”

“You say that as if I don’t already have their dresses in mind.” You mused, making him chuckle.

“Of course you do.”

“I’m telling you, that trip to Venice will be a nice break from the future chaos,” you said, “That is if you are ready to listen to my ranting about the wedding venues on a holiday too. Are you sure you want to go there with me?”

A small smile pulled at his lips and after all this time, it still managed to make your stomach flip pleasantly,

“I’d go anywhere with you,” he said, “With or without you talking about what color the napkins will be.”

“I’m torn between ivory and pearl,” you told him “Knowing my mom, she will want to put seashell into those options and spend a month trying to decide.”

“Should be a fun month,” he said, “Do you want me to tell her the percentages of those shades used in weddings? It could help.”

You scoffed a laugh and turned around in his arms so that you could look up at him.

“What does it say about me if I said I find that incredibly romantic?”

He clicked his tongue, pretending to be deep in thought, “That you have a strange understanding of romance?”

“Maybe. But you still love me,” you tilted your head, “In fact, one could say…”

“That I have a lot of oxytocin for you,” he finished your sentence, making you giggle.

“Very romantic, professor,” you said, and heaved a sigh as his fingertips caressed over your neck.

“You know I’m so in love with you, right?” you asked him, making him smile and nod before you stood on your tiptoes and brushed your lips against his, wrapping your arms around his neck, the warmth spreading through you.

This, right here.

This was happiness.

                                         The End.

[zi-i-think]

Emotional Support Himbo

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1200+

Warnings: none

Request: yes, @wist-elia

Prompt: Gen Z

23. “Will you be my emotional support himbo?”

AN: JSKINFINFS So almost a year later I have finally posted this. I'm sorry. I don't really have any excuse other than I've been busy and kinda forgot about them. I hope you like it nonetheless. It was basically halfway finished when I got back to it. I think this is the last request I had for the batch I got months ago so I might open the requests again in a bit.

*not my gif

Okay, let’s be completely honest here. Y/n was nervous as hell. When she found out that her mom got a job in the Ministry of Magic in London, she was happy for her, excited even. But transferring from Ivermorny to Hogwarts turned out to be the most nerve-wracking part of it.

It was her sixth year and the school was more curious about the TriWizard Tournament than the new girl. She was thankful for it, there weren’t as many people asking her questions. But it was certainly annoying when people completely forgot she was new and picked on her for not knowing the way around. They were in a castle where stairs changed every couple of minutes, she figured people would at least be a bit more understanding.

As the weeks went by, things got better, for sure, but y/n was still struggling to fit in. She had some friends that she met from her House and classes, but none of them were close and she still occasionally got lost. Originally, she relied on Quidditch to find her place in the big school, but with the tournament, they were canceled for the year. So without strong friends or a hobby, she was basically alone.

That was until one sunny afternoon.

Transfiguration had just ended, marking the end of the school day and the beginning of the weekend. But y/n had to stay behind for a bit discussing a not-so-great grade in her last paper. McGonagall was not lenient on grades, but the best she could do was give her tips and points for the next time.

And once the discussion ended Y/n was eager to leave the class and go back to her dorm where she could take a nap or read a book. But once the door shut behind her and she stood out in the cold hallway, the realization settled in. She still wasn’t sure how to get to the Hufflepuff basement. She looked both left and right, down the long, daunting hallways wishing she paid more attention when walking back to the dorms with her roommates.

She took a chance and turned left, walked down some stairs, then up some again, then down, and with the complete wonder of how she got there, Y/n found herself in the lively courtyard. It was warm out and the sun was inviting, making it perfect for students to hang out and have some downtime.

And while the environment seemed like a great time, all the unfamiliar faces were scary to the new girl. She just wanted to get to her dorm. Spotting a small group of students wearing the same black and yellow tie she wore, Y/n pushed aside her fear for the moment and walked over.

“Excuse me?” She asked with a cheerful smile, getting the attention of one girl with brown hair and glasses. “Could you tell me how to get to the Hufflepuff basement?” She kept it simple, that way there'd be less room to say something wrong.

The other girl smiled and her head tilted to the side a bit in amusement.

“You’re the new girl, aren’t you.” She asked. But not in a friendly or curious manner, but in a taunting, humored way.

“Well, yeah,” Y/n answered with a shrug.

“And you don’t know where the Hufflepuff basement is?” She started the chuckle, her friends following along. “Honey, it’s been weeks, figure it out.”

And with that, she turned her head and kept giggling. Her friends chuckled along lightly, but largely just ignored that y/n was standing right there.

Y/n stood there dumbfolded for a moment. But each passing moment that she was standing there, her embarrassment grew and she took a few steps backward to leave the courtyard. She kept her head low to hide any tears that were threatening to spill out of her eyes. Her chest felt heavy and her throat tight.

It felt like everyone in the courtyard was now staring. Like on her first day where she was put with all the first years to be sorted. Like a black sheep. But now it felt like they were judging her.

Still, y/n felt too embarrassed to look up and ground herself back into reality. To see that no one was actually paying attention to her. Well except for one particularly bored Gryffindor. Fred Weasley sat up against one of the columns with an apple in hand when he noticed the new Hufflepuff loosely composing herself.

He noted two things about her. One, she was pretty. Definitely his type. And two, she was nervous. He didn’t recognize her from his previous years. There was no way she was in her first year, but she was also in Hogwarts uniform, so she wasn’t from Beubaxton.

He bit into the apple just enough to hold it in his mouth and pushed off the column he was on. Y/n had turned from the courtyard into the corridor of the school figuring that it was better to walk anywhere than wandering the yard aimlessly, walking towards the Weasley. He bit into the apple and right before she passed and then started walking right beside her.

“Apple?” He offered the half-eaten fruit to her.

Y/n jumped a little. She didn’t even see him approach her. She looked at him and then the apple. Her brows furrowed in confusion and her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. It was obviously a trick to make her feel even worse about herself.

“Are you offering me an apple that has basically been eaten already?” She asked in annoyance.

Fred then just realized how insensitive the gesture was, so he tossed the apple into his other hand and chuckled at himself.

“I suppose I was. But, we can always go to the Great Hall for another one if you’d like.”

“Honestly, the only place I want to go to is the Hufflepuff common room.” She huffed, wishing this boy would just go away.

Fred’s face twisted in confusion then looked around the hall they were walking down. “You do realize you’re walking the wrong way.” He found himself laughing.

Y/n stopped on her tracks. That was it. She was embarrassed and alone, and on top of that, a Gryffindor was laughing at her. Tears were finally starting to drip down her cheek. “I knew that.” She lied through gritted teeth and turned around the other way.

Finally noticing that he might have done something wrong and that this girl had no clue where she was going, Fred stopped laughing and turned around as well to walk with her.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were upset.” He said. Y/n was now wiping her tears with the sleeves of her cloak. “The kitchens are in the same hall as the Hufflepuff common room. I know that much. How about, I walk you to the kitchens and you should find your house from there.”

Y/n looked up at him with slightly puffed eyes. “You’re actually being sincere?” She asked.

“Don’t get used to it, I’m not usually.” He chuckled. Y/n couldn’t help it this time. His laugh was infectious.

“Alright, I won’t.” She grinned and then stuck her hand out to shake. “Y/n L/n.”

“Fred Weasley.” He took the girl’s hand and kissed her knuckle rather than shaking it.

“You’re odd.” Y/n laughed at the strange gesture. “Will you be my emotional support himbo?”

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed and his lips were pressed tightly together as he thought. “Not completely sure what that means.” He admitted. “But yes.”

“Wonderful.” She smiled.