#I could write an essay here with all the things I like so much about him but we have a tag limit so :))

[atlantis-area]

#HappyKeyDay 🥳🔑🦊

[somegrumpynerd]

HEY. POINTS FINGER… any thoughts on how everyone reacted when the other joined the team? as in how did killer react when dust came, how did he and dust react when horror came, how did they all react when cross came, etc. i love love LOVE your bad sanses thoughts way too much they make me so happy. if i write hurt you write comfort and it’s awesome. also how do you think they slowly started to get closer? just.. bah give me your thoughts on them!!!! any thoughts!!!!!!!!!

You fool!! You’ve given me a chance to ramble about my special little guys and now this post will stretch on forever!! Mwahahahahah >:3c

No but seriously this is probably gonna be wicked long cause I have 1 million thoughts about these guys joining and meeting each other so uh, readmore for everybody’s safety and sanity

(^ I wrote that in the document before I started typing out my actual thoughts and uh

yeah no kidding, this is like a fucking essay so proceed with caution)

OKAY SO

I’ve said before that Nightmare got Dust for two reasons; one being that Dream had just recently started working with Ink (and soon Blue) so he and Killer were no longer able to gang up on Dream. He wanted somebody else to bulk up their numbers and give Killer a little back up. He also was starting to realise that Killer didn’t handle being alone very well, since this was when he most often got worked up and broke things around the castle (and sometimes tipped over into stage 3). Dust would be a perfect fit since he had the same amount of lvl and fighting experience as Killer, and since they were so close in circumstance they would be practically like brothers right?

The irony that he thought this about a guy he was recruiting to help kill his brother was apparently lost on him.

They absolutely hated each other. Like, it was instant. Killer saw him as a replacement, why would boss go out and get another sans - one with almost the same backstory as me - when I’m right here? Does he think I’m not good enough? Am I disposable and this is the backup for when I die in combat? He didn’t take it well. He took it all out on Dust too, not cooperating in battle, trying to start fights in the castle, etc. He couldn’t outright kill him because Nightmare had given him strict orders not to, but Killer loves a loophole. If he roughed Dust up down to 1hp and something else happened to finish him off, technically he’d followed orders.

Dust just straight up didn’t want to be there. Nightmare just showing up and yoinking him had worked fine with Killer, but Dust had wanted to sit in his empty au and die, he had no intention of joining a team or doing work of any kind - good or bad. The only reason he didn’t just lie down and refuse the entire time was that he had to fight back against Killer, as much as he wanted to die he refused to give this ass the satisfaction or lvl. He didn’t intend to be any help out in the field either, but again, Killer was making sure he got fired at so he had to retaliate to stay alive.

Eventually it got bad enough that Nightmare had to pull Killer aside and demand answers. In the year or so of knowing him Killer had never willfully disobeyed orders before, so Nightmare needed to know what had gotten into him. He dispelled the replacement rumour right away, he still wasn’t quite softened up enough to be sappy about it but he made sure Killer understood what a good worker he was and that Nightmare had no intention of losing him. It didn’t help a lot, they still hated each other for other reasons, but it eased a little.

Killer still had pretty frequent dips into stage 3, except now he would go straight for Dust usually. Nightmare had tried to explain what he’d learned about it to Dust, but he didn’t really believe that it wasn’t just Killer deciding to try and kill him for funsies. He only accepted it after a particular episode where he attacked Nightmare instead, which Dust knew Killer wouldn’t try in his right mind.

After he came back to his senses he sought Dust out. The air around Killer was very different after a stage 3, sort of sombre and almost calm, so Dust let them sit together and Killer apologised for giving him such a hard time. They actually talked for the first time in months while Killer was still calm (or tolerable, as Dust describes it), and it didn’t magically fix everything but, things were a little better. They still fought and argued and bothered each other but it wasn’t as sharp, there was a lack of real murderous intent in it all, and sometimes after an episode they would talk a little bit. It was the best Nightmare was going to get for now, so he took it.

They were still completely incompetent about taking care of themselves though. Neither of them would eat unless prompted and Nightmare didn’t have good enough knowledge of mortals to know when that should be to stop them passing out from hunger on the job. Not to mention the stars were now a full team, and with the way Killer and Dust would sometimes rather target each other on the field he could do with more backup.

Horror was the first of the group to get a choice in joining. Nightmare had taken note of how much Dust didn’t want to be part of things, and while it was in his best interests in the long run given his situation, Horror’s au was still mostly intact - though a little in disrepair. Horror was also the first in the group to have a good (and ongoing) relationship with his brother, so Nightmare knew he couldn’t just pop in and steal him, he had to be a bit more diplomatic with this one and offer a deal.

He gave Horror some time to think on his proposal - he would set up regular deliveries of food to Horror’s au in exchange for him joining their team - and was quite surprised when Horror agreed, with some stipulations. Horror was equally surprised when Nightmare agreed so easily to his terms (that he didn’t want his brother to know what he’d be doing, and that he wouldn’t kill). A little down the line the terms were altered to add that he would also be left to visit his au every week or so.

Horror was not impressed meeting the other two. He didn’t need his power as judge anymore to sense the lvl coming off them both, and given who they were working for he was instantly distrustful of them both (the uh, brother situation did not help). He was also in a place that had an abundance of food for the first time in probably years, so he was doing a lot of going hog wild in the kitchen and then getting very sick as a result.

Dust didn’t particularly feel anything for him. This guy hated him, sure, but it wasn’t forward and slashy like with Killer, it was just quiet loathing which was fine. That’s how Dust felt about himself so, y’know, mood. He did kind of feel sorry for him though, not just because of the whole famine and everything, but also because he was watching this guy eat like his life depended on it and then get sick and undo it day after day. He was the one who suggested Horror getting his food in moderation to Nightmare, which did help but was an absolute ordeal to enforce. Y’know how some people get hangry? Imagine that but you haven’t had a proper meal in years and now these people give you tiny amounts of food and don’t let you eat more for hours. The hunger mood swings were a sight to behold, you would never have guessed in those days that Horror specified not wanting to kill.

When his ability to eat had evened out and he was in better shape, Horror made a point of apologising to Dust for being aggressive with him. Over time he’d kind of softened up on him from his initial impression, since he could see plainly how wracked with guilt Dust was over his situation. It was a little easier to imagine that whatever he’d done was truly out of desperation and not just for fun, as Horror had assumed at first sight. 

They also both retained that classic sans laziness, so it was easy for them to share a space while saying and doing nothing. It made Horror the first person that Dust willingly spent time around in the castle (and vice versa since Horror was still largely suspicious of Nightmare and Killer - the deal seemed too good to be true and the stage 3 episodes didn’t help). As time went on, Horror kind of became Dust’s emotional support skeleton in a way. Dust had become quite averse to touch in his solitude and Horror very slowly brought him back out with casual gentle touches, until not only did he no longer freeze or stiffen at being grabbed but Dust would seek him out to flop next to on the couch. Horror claimed it was just returning the favour for helping with his eating situation, but really it was nice to have something resembling a friend here.

Killer, for his part, was going through This is My Replacement 2: Electric Boogaloo. Not to the same degree as with Dust, since Horror was quite a bit different, but Killer was still wary of this new addition. He didn’t really instigate anything though since, to be honest, Horror had the intimidation factor. He was like a foot taller than both of them, he had a cracked skull and completely different magic and it seemed like every time Killer saw him he was eating bread like a wolf eats a deer. So while he was going through his food moderating, Killer mostly just stayed quiet and kept his distance.

Horror had not softened on him like he had with Dust, since Killer didn’t openly show remorse. He still watched him with distrust, especially after seeing the way he scrapped with Dust for seemingly no reason other than for violence’s sake. Killer was still mostly targeting Dust in his stage 3s, but Horror had to be careful to stay out of his way since he was still working with much lower hp than the other two. What did start to convince him was seeing how similar Killer and Dust were after a stage 3 episode. Once Killer was slightly more composed (ie stopped crying), he became so tired and quiet and blunt about things he normally joked his way around. It was a little startling, but also started to bring Horror around to the idea that Killer might regret his actions too, just buried under several layers of whatever the hell is also wrong with him at any given time.

Killer and Horror only really started interacting after talking about Dust. Killer was asking how he got Dust to like him since he seems to hate everyone and everything else, Horror told him very pointedly it was because he wasn’t trying to kill Dust. Killer admitted he wasn’t trying to kill Dust, at least not anymore, he just wanted to fight for fun. It opened up a better channel of understanding, knowing that Killer did not actually have murderous intent behind his swings (stage 3 notwithstanding). It made it easier for Horror to occasionally get involved in the roughhousing which Killer delighted in, knowing that the other two knew how to hold back enough to keep him from dusting.

Speaking of stage 3, it was around this time that Killer and Dust made a very important deal. After a particularly rough episode with a little too close of a call, Killer showed up in Dust’s room and begged him shakily to make a promise - that if he ever got too out of control during one of his stages, Dust would kill him. He’d been told over and over by Nightmare that it was impossible for Killer to hurt him since he was immortal, but now there were more people around him where that wasn’t the case, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he came out of a stage and found himself alone. Dust promised.

It’s also worth mentioning that, once they were all close enough to be on speaking terms, Horror started bullying the shit out of these two about eating. Now that Horror knew neither of them were going to kill him, he felt safe enough to pick them up by the scruff and set them at the table to say they weren’t leaving until they had at least a snack. He let them pick what they would eat - he wasn’t that cruel about it - but he had to see them eat at least 3 times a day or they would hear about it.

It was by no means perfect or regular, but after about half a year Nightmare finally had henchmen who ate food and worked together (mostly).

Now here’s the problem… I still haven’t really figured out how or why Cross joined the team. Like, obviously there’s some kind of point in the events of underverse where it splits off into an alternate timeline, but I haven’t really figured out where yet so. Leave that one with me just a little longer. Cross joins.

Nightmare really truly didn’t intend to take anyone else in. They were (mostly) getting along, they were pretty well matched to fight the stars, he had no need of more mortals.

…but he was also pretty soft at this point. Every one of them had taken a blow to his I’m immortal I’m an island I don’t get attached to others persona and he’d gotten pretty damn fond of them all. This was why when he felt the sheer weight of loneliness radiating off of Cross, he just couldn’t bring himself to leave him.

So Cross entered the castle. 

He did not particularly intend to stay or make friends, he was trying to get his world back and nothing more. He even revealed a little down the line that he outright refused to kill, and was quite surprised to find that Nightmare was fine with that. At the start he was polite but not friendly with the others and mostly kept to himself.

Dust, as is often the case, did not really have an opinion. Another new guy, this one was self sufficient and didn’t bother him so he had no reason to get involved. He was content to be in the same room as Cross but didn’t start up any conversations.

Horror felt the need to speak to Cross, since Dust would happily stay silent for years and Killer was, well, Killer. Horror was somehow the closest thing to normal they had, so he was the one that made small talk. Mostly asking what Cross would like for meals and encouraging him to pick something he liked when he got the answer of “anything is fine”. As Cross settled in a bit more and actually opened up, they bonded over being the only two to enjoy food. Horror made a point of adding chocolate to the stock they kept in the kitchen and making tacos here and there for Cross.

Horror was also the first Cross kind of warmed to, mostly because he was the one devoid of lvl and Nightmare had mentioned he’d also said he wouldn’t kill. Learning a little about his au’s situation only softened Cross to him more, especially seeing that he still cared a lot for his brother and was trying to protect his home (even if Cross found it unthinkable that he lived away from it). It was through Horror that he also got accustomed to Dust, how being quiet and distant was kind of his default and that he also felt deeply haunted by the loss of his world. They weren’t exactly friends, but it was comfortable enough.

So now boss had taken in another new person, someone who takes orders like a soldier and fights with knives and ruthless precision and aims to be his righthand man, and Killer was ecstatic. By now he’d mostly put his fears of being disposable behind him, Nightmare had gotten a bit less subtle in showing how important they all were to him and Killer felt confident he wouldn’t be replaced. Which was a little bit funny, because the only guy he didn’t feel threatened by was the one who absolutely competed for his spot.

Cross needed to prove he was useful, he had to feel like he earned his keep and that all the training and suffering he’d done was for a reason. When Nightmare sent them on missions, Cross aimed to be the fastest and the most efficient and to report to Nightmare without question. Horror and Dust looking on would have expected Killer to see this 100% as a threat to his position as (self proclaimed) Nightmare’s second in command, and to go for this guy’s throat when nobody else was around.

But Killer was fascinated. Cross was completely different from any of them, bar Nightmare whose au is a whole different kettle of fish, so he had a certain element of unpredictability to him. Horror and Dust were both based on classic sans just like him, so to a certain degree he knew how they would feel about most things and what they might say, the only differences being in what they had experienced through their own timelines. Cross was based on a swap sans and his au had taken wild twists and turns away from usual events, so Killer had to learn everything about him by poking and prodding for answers or observing from a distance, much like back when it was just him and Nightmare. Cross was something new to be studied and Killer loved taking notes.

Cross did not see this as friendly. He was competing with Killer for approval, not realising Killer was playing their contest like a game. When he saw Cross training he would jump in to spar for fun, but Cross saw his rival trying to get a jump on him and take him out of the running. When Killer would hang around and pester Cross in their off time with questions, it didn’t seem like someone taking interest, it seemed like someone being nosy and looking for weaknesses to exploit. When Horror mentioned that Killer was being surprisingly contained and friendly, Cross really thought he was fucking with him.

The first time Cross was willing to even consider this was the case was when his locket came loose on the field and Killer ran back to find it, since one of the notes he’d taken was how the locket wasn’t something Cross would play about (the same as Horror with food). It didn’t make sense for someone who was seriously competing to have him kicked out to just hand his necklace back, no ransoms or attempts to crush it to upset him, just some vague remark about “owing him one” and then right back to Nightmare for orders.

Cross had to give him something of a chance after that, Horror helped a lot by telling him “he doesn’t want to hurt you, he just doesn’t know how to be normal”. It was mostly a playful jab at Killer, but reframing their interactions changed it significantly for Cross. Now they were sparring playfully and having friendly competition on jobs. He wasn’t as put off when Killer went into stage 3 because he knew he could match him in combat and the others were always on hand to help restrain or distract him. Cross also took note of how Killer calmed down a lot for physical touch, not unlike how Dust had warmed up to Horror. It went a long way into not only making him a little less combative for attention every day, but it seemed to put longer stretches between his episodes (which Cross had also started tracking so they wouldn’t be caught out by them as much).

For his part, Killer has disobeyed instructions in the past to benefit Cross, usually ignoring the task to help him if he’s hurt. He’s also given Nightmare nudges towards praising him because he’s noted that that’s what Cross needs in the same way he needs touch (not that Nightmare doesn’t praise them normally, but when Cross is going through it and needs something). He also doesn’t particularly like chocolate but has made a point of not admitting this to Horror so he can give his chocolate to Cross.

(It’s also worth noting that Cross is the only one, besides Nightmare, that has been to Horror’s au. He offered to help out during the food delivery and got to meet Horror’s Papyrus (who he is a little intimidated by but ultimately friendly with, even though it’s a little weird since he’s a good bit different from his own Papyrus). Dust and Killer can’t really visit for a few reasons, mostly because everyone will notice their lvl immediately and know what they’ve done. Dust especially doesn’t know how he would react to having a Papyrus in front of him again and doesn’t want to put Horror's family at risk to find out. Whenever he visits, his Papyrus asks about Cross now and sometimes tries to make tacos for him (key word tries, he’s still a Papyrus after all). He may have joked that seeing Cross sometimes is “like having another brother but younger and less lazy” and when Horror told him this Cross may or may not have cried.)

And that’s where we are now!

They’re a very strange group who’ve been through some inexplicable events and have all changed each other in one way or another. And whether or not it can be admitted, they are a family c:

Now onto how Nightmare was made emotionally open by each of them!! In this essay I will no just kidding could you imagine this is already like 7 pages long

If you got to the end of this post please drink some water and get yourself a snack

[mobius-m-mobius]

I find it so funny that Owen's creative process really is just: 1. Be handed a sandbox, sometimes already good, sometimes subpar. 2. Say, I can make this little guy so much better. 2.5. Actor's prayer. 3. Ad-lib on set and blow everyone away. 4. Refuse to elaborate. 5. Leave. What do you mean he has to explain his """acting choices"""? They all come to him in a moment of brilliant improv, isn't that enough? Aren't you having fun? You should be! *bikes away*

Anon you've summed up his entire dynamic in a way that's about to make it impossible for the entire world not to fall desperately in love with him as we speak, but hopefully for his peace of mind and probably ours too things don't get that far 😂💖

Honestly his mind and approach to acting amaze me more and more each day and after becoming a fan and learning more about him I was genuinely shocked there isn't more general discussion about how naturally talented and hardworking he is?? Which probably has a lot to do with him being the type who doesn't like to call attention to himself or play the press game but I always find myself hoping he really does know how incredible he is since everyone who interacts with him on and off camera is left in awe of what he brings to a production and makes a point of mentioning his unique perspective is responsible for the best parts of everything he works on.

Also can I just add it's not only his improv in the moment that impresses me but how carefully he crafts a backstory for his characters?? This goes back to him constantly improving the sandbox and we don't get to hear as many details as I'd like but it's often mentioned he shows up with scripts noted with novels his characters could like/relate to, past jobs that suit them, literary passages relating to their state of mind, etc, and so on which is so cool and again not mentioned enough that he seriously puts time and effort into expanding the universes his characters live in simply because he loves telling stories and is one of the best to ever do so in my opinion 🥰

Then on top of all that he wraps then rides his bike into the sunset while the sound of radio silence echos until we inevitably see him weeks later picking flowers or grabbing a newspaper or some green juice in some random town like the example of living your best life that he is, truly couldn't ask for anyone better!

[fluxweeed]

hey. hope this message doesn't bother you. I love you. I love your work. you are one of my favorite fic authors, I am absolutely obsessed with everything you write. reread everything ten times over, drarry or not, fluffy or angsty - even when it absolutely shatters my heart (e.g. for lack of wanting, SUCH a great fic btw i'm so obsessed with it). the four doors? life changing. two to lie and one to listen? engraved into my brain for eternity. what's mine is yours? what a ride holy shit, im VERY normal about it. wrapped? my comfort read. and so it goes.

if I could aggressively smother you with kudos and love I WOULD!!!

awhile ago you said that there's no such thing as "big deals" in fandom and I 100% agree but at the same time you are a big deal TO ME!!! not in the sense of any kind of hierarchy but purely based on the fact that I think you are such a cool person and your writing is amazing and poignant and your presence in fandom makes it so much better. it's been a pleasure following you here on tumblr and just reading your tags and posts.

idk I just think you rule. that's it. thank you for hanging with us. MWAH 💛

ahhhh anon sorry for leaving this message sitting in my inbox for a couple of days but !! i have zero idea how to react to this!! you're so kind!! thank you!! please discard any and all inclinations u have that i am a cool person bc i can assure you i am NOT!!

[ocdhuacheng]

I have… lots of thoughts on milsiril and kabru and the commentary on mixed-race family/adoption, in particular white parents with children of color. I think it’s really cool kui incorporated this into the story because lots of (particularly white) people just think adoption is this pure altruistic thing and don’t think about the negative affects it has on kids (again, kids of color) to not have people of their own culture to grow up with.

[will-o-wips]

It is 4 am. I'm staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, coincidentally having my phone right in my line of sight, and write this with the exasperation and intense focus that I probably won't ever have again. I'm about to attempt to make any sort of sense of the latest Hayao Miyazaki movie, The Boy and the Heron (or rather, How do you live? in Japanese), that I watched for the first time in theatres a day ago.

I cannot claim to be right, or to know everything about this movie. Actually acclaimed critics and people with obviously more braincells than me have probably better takes than I do. But I must speak, lest the insanity truly take over my brain, lest I really end up combusting because of how much I want to talk about this.

Prepare yourselves for the most incoherent train of thought and line of consciousness you will ever experience.

FILLED WITH SPOILERS READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND UNLESS YOU HAVE SEEN THE MOVIE.

Before I start with my actual thoughts, however, I'll state my personal feelings about the movie, because I feel that matters too, and this is my post anyway so! But I personally left the cinema feeling somewhat mellow. I was not insane about it yet. It was,,, "meh". The impression of the ride was great; I was giggling along with the funny and even sometimes not purposefully funny moments, I enjoyed the animation to the point I would genuinely flap my hands in excitement at how good it was, I understood the story in great lines by noticing small details and going "oh so does this mean x?". But I did not cry. Not a single tear during or after or before the movie. I did not waver with my opinion on it as I rambled about it to my friends online and irl, much to their annoyance. I did not hesitate when I put it in my silly little Studio Ghibli movie tierlist maker that I update whenever I watch another one of these films together with my friends, categorized (in)discreetly under "all vibes no plot but there's a witch/wizard". I still don't, in fact.

So, given all of this, you'd probably say that I disliked the movie. That I would not have so much to say about it, after doing my mandatory ramble and update. Wrong. I still have more to say, somehow.

Despite that, I didn't rewatch the movie itself. I read an entirety of one (1) review of it, together with one (1) random video essay of 8 or so minutes, covering the basics of it. I reblogged one (1) post about its protagonist on tumblr and otherwise kinda read through the rest of the posts on here. I did not re-experience or re-examine this movie again. I cannot (again) accurately reference anything besides that what I vaguely remember from watching it a day or two ago. It's not playing anywhere near me anymore/not out anywhere else yet, so really, I don't even know what possessed me to write about this, or even say anything. The most fascinating thing (to probably all of us here) is; what made me change my mind about it?

It might've been the review on IndieWire. David Ehrlich and his well-written review, bringing things into much needed context as to why this movie was created. It could've been the fact that I've actively processed the movie better, now a little bit of time has passed. [Honestly it deserves a second watch/view for something more concrete, but I'm repeating myself with this, you get it.]

But I don't even really understand it myself. I felt and still feel so detached from this movie in a sense. I appreciate the artistry that went into it, and I adore the way it simply tells the story and leaves it up to interpretation. It references every single film Hayao Miyazaki has ever made before, and elements of other Ghibli films can probably be found in there too, if you looked hard enough. The vibes were similar to those of Spirited Away, and Howl's Moving Castle, given how inexplicably fantastical the world was. It just existed and breathed, and we as the audience jumped straight into it. We never got more exposition than what was needed; honestly I have a feeling that the second half of the movie was the vaguest piece of media I have ever consumed in my life. But it also had this perfect balance of the more drama-focused Ghibli films. The Boy and the Heron, in my opinion, is like the golden middle between reality and fantasy, both in terms of its narrative as well as comparison between other Ghibli movies.

This might also be the reason why I felt confused. The lines between reality and fantasy were so effortlessly blurred, that you could only process a singular picture. And when things are vague to me, I constantly need to pick them apart and analyse them, simply to satisfy my own curiosity.

The moment before I stepped into the movie theatre, my friend who watched along with me told me they heard it was a film about grief. I nodded along and said "yeah, okay, that just means it's another one of many Hayao Miyazaki and Ghibli films. Most of them are about some kind of loss, and dealing with it, either way." I sat down together with them; row 9, chairs 17 and 18, with my two bottles of water (one carbonated, one stilled) and the bag of terribly sour packaged chocolate pretzels I bought at the theatre itself. Horribly overpriced for the quality, I must say. My friend held onto the popcorn, and we sat through the ads, talking and laughing, anticipating something that was supposed to blow us away.

I cannot speak for my friend, but I think they really liked the movie regardless. They didn't cry at it either, even though we both know of each other that we always cry at such things. Somehow this movie evoked a certain stillness in us both; a stalemate between emotions and confusion. Maybe delayed processing. Maybe something else entirely. We both, or at least I, hid it until later.

It was midnight, and right before we stepped on our train home, I was excitedly going on about the references and animation, the things I did appreciate. I bragged a bit about how I recognized Kenshi Yonezu's voice in the final credit song that we didn't get to listen to entirely, because it was so late and we had to rush to get home. They laughed at me and told me to take some time to actively formulate any coherent thoughts on it. I disagreed (lovingly and jokingly of course), and we left it at that.

In the train itself, the same high dimmed into a simmer, the excitement replaced with contemplation, and I kept talking.

I told them: "I believe that this truly is his last film. This felt like a goodbye." And in return, they replied: "It's crazy how this is the last time we'll ever get to live in such a moment. The release of the final Ghibli movie in theatres.

"I'm glad we got to go."

I was too.

I got home, rambled about the intrinsic way The Boy and the Heron referenced other Ghibli movies to my online friends who had yet to see it. Followed by a heated tangent about how When Marnie Was There truly could have had better direction in regards to the narrative, as well as how Only Yesterday was the most boring out of all Ghibli movies. It was a nice night. I didn't think about the movie again.

The following morning, I contacted other friends, who told me about how Robert Pattison voiced the Heron in the English dub, which I hadn't seen or heard at all. He did a great job, judging by the trailer. This led me to another opinion, namely the video essay (I will try to find it and put it in the notes later if you are curious), which claimed something similar to this (of course, paraphrased):

"This is a farewell. The one true movie to tie such an expansive career. It is another movie where you are allowed to explore the magical together with the main character, while sticking close to the processing of it all."

The review I read said it was a swan-song, that it was the question and title of the movie in Japanese, posed at us, after The Wind Rises left it open to interpretation at the end of its run. That this was a story about the legacy that Miyazaki is leaving behind, how reality and fantasy coexist together, possibly influencing each other (not explicitly said but what I interpreted that review saying, so no this is also not completely like this).

Other tumblr posts I've seen on here say it was a film most likely dedicated to his son, Goro Miyazaki. That it was a gentle "I'm sorry, the shadow I leave behind is huge. I know that you will try and fail to fill it. It's okay; you don't have to. You can leave it behind. It's alright if this legacy dies with me."

Some other sources I've seen compare the main protagonist to Miyazaki himself, trying to grapple with the ending.

Yet somehow, all of these interpretations seem to fail to explain the entirety of this movie. The bigger picture if you will. These themes and moments and interpretations are not wrong, but to me, they're not satisfying enough.

Because maybe I am the only one who actually was insane about this moment, but I will never forget the delivery room scene between Mahito and Natsuko. How Himi addresses the magic stone, pleading to let the two go, saying "Natsuko and the boy who is to be her son". (Again, paraphrased, I cannot remember the exact line.) Maybe I am the only one who witnessed the whimsical fire witch and the going back in time plots and the fact that a younger Kiriko and Himi were there, already part of an ecosystem. How we already know from the other grannies in the house that Mahito's mother disappeared once for a whole year into the tower, and then came back the same as before. How the pelicans were BROUGHT there, that they did not belong there, and yet were forgetting how to fly. How they ate the Warawara, these creatures that were rising above to be born in the upper world. How the Heron's weakness was his 7th tail feather (or something along those lines), and how the fish and the frogs chanted for Mahito to join them in the tower. That the great-great-uncle was hoping for Mahito to succeed him and build a new tower, yet the king of the parakeets butted in and haphazardly did the job, resulting in it immediately toppling over, as well as the stones getting cut.

I think about the final scene where the Heron says "It's best to forget. Do you have any keepsakes?" And Mahito shows not only older Kiriko's figure, but also a piece of the stone paths they walked upon in order to get to the centre, the beating heart, the magic stone and his great-great-uncle.

How this is taking place during a war, that the timeline goes from his mothers death that Mahito cannot get over, to the welcoming of his stepmother and his new younger sibling. Them moving back to Tokyo. The way the tower completely collapsed. Completely and utterly collapsed and perished; not even a trace of it left behind. The way that older Kiriko keeps yelling it is a trap to Mahito in the beginning, but that both he and the Heron know. That it is inevitable to tread this specific path. That he must see for himself, whether his mother is truly alive. The way she both was and wasn't; first a mirage of her older self disappearing into a puddle of water, and second a firey spirit of her younger self coming to help Mahito. The way that he reads and cries at the book she left him, the way he hits himself with a rock after his big fight with his classmates; the way Mahito in general drowns consistently in the beginning of the film. He drowns in the fire that he lost his mother in. He drowns in the mud and the dust when he tries to enter the tower at first. He drowns in his dreams, in his tears, drowns right into his quest to find Natsuko (straight through the floor, by behest of his great-great-uncle), drowns in pelicans trying to eat him, nearly drowns in the actual sea until younger Kiriko fishes him out.

Now these things may seem like me just randomly naming shit that happens in the movie. Hopefully in a slightly poetic way, possibly. I could go on and on about the imagery, truly. But my point is, this movie may have been Miyazaki's last movie, his way of closure, his way of speaking to his son about his legacy, his way of describing the grief of losing his mother (idk if this is autobiographical or not. It very well may have been), yet...

Even so, it doesn't really fit the entire picture. It feels incomplete. The analyses always focus on the true meaning behind this movie, what happens behind the scenes, this one key climactic moment between Mahito and his great-great-uncle. But that's as if you would ignore the rest of the movie in general. As if the fantastical aspects weren't there to abstractly tell a story besides just being a symbol of closure for the person that directed it.

Personally, this is a tale of rebirth. Of losing yourself, and then rediscovering yourself in a way. I associate it with my own personal loss of my grandfather; the family member I felt closest to out of everyone.

The way you look back at such a traumatic stage in your life, something that irrevocably changed you for good, something that you probably don't ever want to relive again, but also mustn't forget. The way you instinctively are afraid to learn about who the person you love and grieve was, before you were in their life.

To this day, I still cannot speak to my mother about whether my grandfather had a favourite song before me forcing him to sing along with my favourites. A favourite book before he read out bedtime stories to me tirelessly. Who the boy in him was, and what wisdom and life lessons he carried on, into his grave, into the hearts of his children.

This movie depicts so much more than just grief, it's so much more than just legacy, even. It directly reflects the way I know I would have felt had I dared to actually see things for myself. If I actually dared to go through my grandfather's old things; the books he wrote and dedicated to me, the books he read when he was young. This movie depicts not how to live, but how to live on.

And the only way to live on is to move forward. To look at the foundations upon which it was built, to evaluate whether you truly want to have this be your burden to carry for the rest of your life. Mahito's abstract grief in regards to his mother, and the solace he finds in the fact that he at least knew who she was; that he at least had her in his life as both his mother and the girl that his stepmother knew, that at the very least he knows his mother would do it all over again, if she could. That despite everything, she did not regret a thing, and that she was not afraid. That somewhere, in the past, she lives on, happily marching toward this fate, because she knows that Mahito will be there to meet her again in the future.

And Natsuko, god, she worries relentlessly about whether Mahito will accept her. She worries to the point she yells at him, telling him that she hates him and his existence, because he rejects her so coldly and yet still bothers to show up in front of her during her most vulnerable moments. That he only takes and takes and takes; he steals her cigarettes in order to learn how to sharpen a knife from one of the servants. He uses those techniques to create a bow and arrow, a weapon. He gets into fights at school, he gets gravely injured on the side of his head, leaving a lasting scar.

If I were in her shoes, I would be furious at him too. Especially if he walked straight into the delivery room, trying to drag me out of bed while I was doing my damn best to keep the other child in my belly alive.

That scene, that sheer rage, and the way it ALL FUCKING SUBSIDES the MOMENT Mahito accepts her and calls her mother. The moment Mahito understands that through the literal whirlwind of plasters, things used to tend to wounds, none of those pleasantries/guards will truly allow him to reach her. The way he tries to nurse his own wounds, as well as try to nurse hers, over the loss of their shared connection (Natsuko's older sister, Mahito's biological mother), will NEVER allow him to make a connection with her. By being careful, by being polite, he will never get to be her son.

And he realizes, in that moment, that he wants to.

The magic stone tries to stop this. The magic stone dislikes disruption; dislikes things changing, dislikes breaking traditions (the taboo of entering the delivery room). The parakeets in the tower flourish because they follow the magic stone's whims more or less. They agree to follow its rules, even if it means they are prone to its abuse, because it gives them an advantage, a place to stay. The pelicans have to eat the Warawara, because there is no other food available to them.

The way younger Kiriko says "you reek of death", and how they establish this place is mostly made up of death and dead people. Dead people, or dying people, creatures that are begging to survive another day. Creatures that are begging to be reborn. That want to change, that wish to fly once more.

My mother once gave me a poem dearest to her heart. We have always been a family filled with literature and stories, but my mother was always the best at both writing them and reciting them. She used to read them out to me, back when I was in a particularly bad spot mentally, to the point I could not get out of bed for weeks on end, to try and reach me. She read with the sincerest passion in her voice, a small plea to get me back to the girl I was before.

I cannot explain or remember the poem by heart, but once I was at my true rock bottom, she told me to look it up. A Serbian poem, written by Miroslav Antić (I will add the name of it later), that was about growing up and growing into your own person. It made me weep, for it had a phrase I think I can only translate to this:

"Run and don't look back."

Somehow, whenever I look at all of these birds and creatures in this fantasy world, trying to fly desperately, trying to get to the skies, trying to get to even live, and think about the fact that the only way they can is by leaving this place. That the only way they can fly and survive as themselves is by leaving this tower, this stone, this foundation. By leaving and being born, by leaving and being reborn.

And, after all of this. Somehow I'm not even done yet. I haven't talked about the great-great-uncle in depth, nor the king of the parakeets, nor the heron whatsoever. I have not yet even touched upon what I might think the magic stone is, and the sheer amount of like symbolism I picked apart in my brain because of my insanity.

I'm probably not the only one who noticed these things. But so far I haven't seen anyone actively share these things, so, I will do my best to continue and genuinely wrap it up as best as I can. So that this can also bring the same amount of closure as the movie does.

The magic stone is like a shooting star that came onto the earth. It realizes dreams and worlds of whoever dares to walk into it and claim to own it; like how Mahito's great-great-uncle got obsessed and built a tower around it, caging it, taming it. And yet he still had to play to its whims, consistently making sure his own tower of blocks did not fall, that all of his work did not amount to nothing. Personally, I do believe the great-great-uncle could represent Miyazaki himself. That Miyazaki is trying to express how he built Ghibli and that now it has been going on for so long, and it has become unmanageable to continue upholding it. That it is time to retire.

A thing I find interesting and remember pretty well is the conversation between the parakeet king and the great-great-uncle. How they talked about Mahito's transgression, breaking into the delivery room (side note: he broke in and broke through to Natsuko with his mother's spirit. Mahito became Natsuko's son with the blessing of his mother; with the sheer love she had for him being carried on and through), and how the great-great-uncle says something akin to this:

"It is why I wish for him [Mahito] to succeed me."

"I cannot overlook such a transgression."

I feel this is important. It is key to how the great-great-uncle views Mahito in this. Because Mahito was not sent out on this quest to find Natsuko out of pure selfishness. Sure, his uncle would have wanted him to succeed him, but the entire reason WHY he believed in Mahito to begin with, is the fact that this boy was able to break the foundation and the traditions in the first place. Mahito inherently disobeys from the chosen path. Mahito inherently does not believe the Heron when he says that all herons lie. Mahito doesn't waver when the heron flies straight at him, he doesn't sway when the frogs or the pelicans overwhelm him. Mahito stands firm in who he is, even if he is trying to deal with new circumstances. Mahito inherently goes to places he should not be in (his curiosity for the tower). Mahito has enough power on his own to create a new tower, but only by rebuilding it from scratch.

This ready acceptance that the great-great-uncle has towards Mahito's decision NOT to inherit his legacy, is what makes me believe this is what this movie is supposed to represent. Break away from the old, off into the new. Closure. Moving on.

This is also reflected in the sentiment that Mahito truly DOES move on. He goes back to his family, his father, school, he goes back with Natsuko as his mother and a new younger sibling to Tokyo. He returns there where he came from, but he is not the same anymore. He is reborn into a new Mahito.

And god I feel like I'm repeating myself to death here; I really should have thought about the structure of this, but give me some slack okay. It's like 6:30 am already and I'm still not done, despite continuously writing and labouring at this.

So, the tower that immediately falls apart by someone who always follows the whims of a dream (the parakeet king and the stone respectively). God it is just such a momentTM. Because in the end even this shows that the parakeets, too, even though they by far had it the best in that goddamn tower, had to leave. For they could not build something on their own without learning who they were outside of the already established. Outside of just following the rules and all.

They had to leave, my GODDDDD.

As I'm getting progressively more unhinged, we shall move onto the most unhinged character in this entire fucking movie. The Heron himself. God there's too much to unpack here, really, but the truth is, the Heron was supposed to be the guide to Mahito. The Heron was supposed to be Mahito's biggest, most aggressive enemy, the direct antagonist to Mahito's protagonist. The Heron doesn't want change. The Heron tries to bribe Mahito with the fact that his mother is still alive, that he need only enter the tower, and lose himself to illusions and dreams. That fantasizing about his mother being alive won't only drown him more, that it won't just let Mahito sink into the deepest pits of his despair and anguish about such a death, that losing yourself to the belief that something is there when it is not wouldn't only be counterproductive. The Heron masks himself consistently; he says that all herons lie. He says that he only has one weakness, his own feather, that allows the arrow to automatically target him. In essence, the Heron shot himself in the foot beak. He himself slipped up in his mirage world, and came out to be who he truly was, this weird little man with a huge nose and a conniving demeanour. He adamantly cannot disobey the dream, for then his true nature comes peaking out (a small detail I absolutely love is the fact that the Heron's feathers also disappear out of Mahito's hands when Mahito is called back to reality by the grannies. The grannies protect him in the dream world too, by being his tether and support system while he gets over himself and starts trusting Natsuko). The Heron doesn't WANT to be a guide, for in order to be a guide, you must tell the truth. You'd need to know some facts about the world around you and share this information with the ones seeking guidance. This is how I believe Mahito understood the Heron before we did.

It's not that all herons lie; it's just that this particular one does not want to face the truth/reality.

Another interesting detail: the whole reason why only Mahito was able to cover up the hole in the Heron's beak was reminiscent about how only those that called you out can really patch up your old image. Only those that have poked holes in your false narrative are able to fill them back up again, and even then it is not the same, and even then it will not always be comfortable/reliable.

Either way, the Heron, after this wings partially turn into hands, his true nature, is unable to fly all that well for a while. He relies on Mahito's corkscrew thing in order to relish in his comfort zone of lies again. But throughout the movie, the Heron slowly starts to ignore the corkscrew completely; simply opting to stay in his (frankly, freakish) half gremlin man half heron costume form. The Heron changes because Mahito inspired him to change. Even though his image used to be spotless before, and he tried to deceive Mahito, after a while, he stopped doing that. The mutual trust both Mahito and the Heron had grew. The Heron became a person, although his heron-ness would never go away.

The Heron thus warns Mahito that he should want to forget. That he will forget, either way. That this struggle of his to grapple with the reality of his situation, and the fantasy that he was delving into, will become a far-off memory that Mahito should not revisit. The Heron, I believe, is genuinely trying to look out for Mahito.

"Don't dwell in what you have already overcome. Don't revisit the things you have already outgrown."

And this is where the movie more or less ends. Mahito still keeps that stone, and his mother's book, and he goes back to Tokyo; the only crucial difference is that he has overcome his own grief.

Now, I've said this like a billion times now, but this is the rebirth. This is what I think this movie stands for. What it means, at its core. This is what it means to live; to move on and to cut ties with that what has no place in your life anymore. Miyazaki, I think, is trying to give us closure, a final farewell to Ghibli altogether.

Now I don't know about any speculation that he might come back again, and personally, I don't think it really matters. If he does come back, good for him. I just don't know enough to say anything for sure, so I'll just say I cannot say.

Either way, I think, even though Miyazaki conveyed the need for a new start/a rebirth, he didn't really end on the complete abolishment of all that used to be. You are allowed to keep mementos of it; even though the Heron advises not to. Mahito is allowed to reflect upon this experience, to see it as another stone in his foundation/formation, to say that, yes, the spirit of this change will always stay with me, although it has passed.

Just like how Mahito's mom was someone who returned to the past without regrets. She never came back. She was a spirit that pushed Mahito forward, and he will always remember her, but it's better that she stay a memory than become a fantasy.

This is why I'm so impressed by this movie in general. I'm so thankful that I was able to witness this with a friend of mine. I'm glad that I was able to see this, even though my insanity knows no bounds, and the fact that I didn't even think about any of this until I really sat down to look through the options of interpretations.

I'm so glad I got to go. Now it's time to run towards the future, and never look back.

[cream-and-tea]

yknow i talk a lot of shit about pallas but i WILL say that everything they add to the character relationship web is absolute GOLD truly no one is doing it like them. mutual dependence and obsession and maybe even tenderness forming w their narrative foil/fellow protagonist until their character arcs become inextricably linked. hamlet n hortatio dynamic w their deadbestfriend. You’re Just Like Me For Real (derogatory) gayass rivalry constantly happening in the background. You’re Just Like Me For Real (affectionate) tragic attempted mentorship also happening the background. they have mommy issues from a character that isn’t even technically related to them.

[otrtbs]

I want your heavy detail... give it

I'll give mine first though

Since you haven't read the book I'm not gonna like hold that against the debate because YES this is a debate now all in good fun of course and I'll just like talk about the movie.

Jo and Laurie in my opinion are WAY to similar for a romantic relationship to work and MAYBE it's just me and how weird I am about best friends to lovers like friends to lovers I adore it but when there's like platonic soulmates for some reason I can't cross that barrier like they are friends and nothing else.

But Jo and Laurie are one in the same, right? And I think they would've killed each other for one. But also I think as much as a relationship is about compromise and supporting each other I think Jo needs a relationship where she's truly pushed to be better IF she's in one at all. Of course in a perfect world she would be marrying no one BUT we're not in that world. I think she needs someone just as ambitious as her someone who will respect her and view her as an equal. And as much as a love Laurie that's not him.

He wouldn't push her to do better he would praise her and that's all. He would treat her right. But he wouldn't be perfect for her. AMY however, yes we're getting into her pushes LAURIE to be better. She argues with him and kinda influences him to be better. And I don't think Jo would do that either, I think Jo would be too busy with her own things.

I think they work on paper. But in the end I think Jo and Laurie need MORE than each other, and I think they compliment each other a bit too much to be romantically involved.

AND also since we're here I want to add that in the 2019 movie it seems like Jo regrets not saying yes to Laurie, but that's just not what happens at all. Like she's missing her best friend and she's missing Beth and her childhood. She's not in love with him, she just misses whaat used to be and wants to go back. No matter if she has to give up all her dreams and become a trophy wife.

I don't even know if you wouldn't mentioned it but I had to because I hate when that's people's argument like they're just completely viewing the movie wrong, they don't get the point. Jo and Beth's relationship is much more important to me than any romantic one so I'm VERY passionate about it.

Um lastly I am VERY sorry that I just gave you an essay to read over I didn't mean to... but this is my favorite movie and I just love talking about it... a lot apparently.

okay wait!! i have read the book !! i have totally read the book!!! please!! (dare i say the book builds a stronger case for jolaurie?? hmm) im rambly under the cut!!

please you are always welcome to come in here and talk about little women things to me !! i love the movie and the book so much !!! i'm right there with you !

i think that the similarities are good in this relationship!! i think they work and compliment each other well!! as far as pushing each other to be better, i think i disagree. when jo submits her writing for the papers (in the novel), it's laurie who encourages her and believes in her and laurie is the first person she tells!! he encourages her to write, he encourages her 'boyish' mannerisms and he accepts her for who she is!! but he's always encouraged her and supported her pursuits. n turn, when laurie is hanging out in disreputable places w boys of ill repute, it is jo who encourages him to stop and be better and laurie listens (this is also in the novel) but movie scene imagine when laurie is like 'i gave up billiards ,, i'm happy i did' i think they are both slightly indulgent to each others follies, jo with her temper and laurie with his grandiose 'castle in the clouds' temperament, but when it really counts they push each other to be better and they accept each other for who they are!!

i do agree that in a perfect world she wouldn't marry at all though!! i also agree that beth and jo's relationship is more important, or even, jo's relationship to her family is paramount and really what the novel and movie is about!

i also want to say that the letter jo writes laurie is not in the book so im gonna not consider that for the sake of the argument but marrying laurie wouldn't make jo a trophy wife!! he has done nothing but encourage her to write and publish her works, he's never asked for her to change who she is, or anything. i think that while jo was yearning for the past, for a time when beth was alive and healthy and all her sisters were under one roof and together, and she and laurie were closer than ever, i think her love and regret for tuning laurie down is real, and can't all be attributed to an attempt to recreate the past.

i think jo has told herself her entire life that being a wife meant compromising yourself and giving up your autonomy and individuality, because that's what she saw in the world around her and that's not what she wanted. so she swore off marriage because she didn't want to change. but the thing is, laurie never wanted her to change and didn't ask her to change. it took a while for jo to realise this and it took loss and loneliness which gave way to growth and maturity and the realisation that laurie and jo could work in a way where she could still be herself. but by then it was too late. bc, yk, amy. which as established before, family is more important to jo than anything, so of course that put an end to it.

idk when i think about laurie who was often described as devoted to jo, supporting her and loving her unconditionally while encouraging her to become and author,, when jo makes him feel most comfortable and most like himself when he was a shy boy just back from europe and helps him with his relationship with his grandfather and his vices,,, they help each other grow and i think they would really work together!!

[carolinanadeau]

Embarrassing, ridiculous TMI under the readmore (not gross! just way too personal!)

I do not have PTSD and I don't want to be a part of the "flippantly using the word 'trigger'" problem at all, but I think I finally found a proper name for this harmful behavior I've wrestled with since at least high school, and it's called self-triggering.

Again, I don't have trauma... well, everybody has some trauma, but that's not the thing I'm triggering myself about here. And if I explained what I had actually been doing to myself (which may be obvious to someone who's reading between the lines but I don't want to talk about it for reasons I've stated before), it would sound laughably, mockably trivial. But the results are still an acute increase in depression and obsessive negative/angry thinking and distress and alienation from something that usually gives me joy... so it's still harmful to me, no matter how stupid and frivolous it sounds. Perhaps it's an OCD/depression self-triggering instead of a PTSD self-triggering.

I reiterate, what I'm discussing is not trauma, not EVER claiming it is, but:

In a similar vein, one set of case studies (De Young, 1984) conceptualized approaching situations reminiscent of the trauma as “counterphobic behavior” (i.e., an attempt to master anxiety by repeatedly approaching its source, resulting in a greater sense of control).  

I understand this, the "maybe if I keep looking I'll become desensitized", and "I need more information so I can better avoid this thing and people associated!" Or even "well maybe it wasn't really that bad, maybe I'm remembering it as worse than it was" (I'm not, if anything I've forgotten just how bad it was!)

Likewise, if trauma survivors perceive reexperiencing symptoms as inevitable, they may wish to decide the time and place of their occurrence, affording them a sense of control.

...is that the irrational "gotta get it over with" compulsion??  

Alarmingly, many users also report being unable to stop this behavior once they have begun despite the dysregulation and distress that it causes.

This is how it goes: I will read or even just skim through something that causes me serious emotional distress, whether that is a fanfiction with something horrible happening to characters I find comfort in, or a really nasty article full of harsh, baseless criticisms of something I love so much. (Again, these things sound laughable but to the way my mind works, it is not. Though I also do something similar with actual bad memories from my life [I think everyone does], well, you can't "reread" or refresh those. And I also have the power to delete/destroy any physical records I have of those.)

So, I will vow to never ever let this wretched thing enter my eyeballs again. I will ruminate about it and quietly seethe about the fact that it exists, and that some people even like/agree with it! I won't be able to get certain upsetting phrases out of my head and I will obsess and it will ruin my enjoyment of related things whenever I get reminded of it.

Maybe I will find ways to block or blacklist to lower my chances of seeing it. And I will be very vigilant about this for a long time and will successfully avoid it, even if I see reminders here and there that make me mad. Slowly, I'll only remember a few specific sentences from the thing, and even those may be unclear.

And then I'll suddenly develop the belief that I "have to" look at it again for some reason, and my heart will start pounding as I start bracing myself for this "inevitability".  And eventually the irrational, self-destructive side will win out and I'll do it, believing that it's like ripping a bandaid off for the greater good. Gotta get it over with, you see. I'll only glance over it, of course, because this time I already know how bad it is - I'll just read a few sentences here and there on my way to do something "sensible" like block the url or check who liked it so I know it wasn't my friends - but it will be enough to make me feel like absolute shit for days again, and now I have these fresh memories in my head to contend with and the cycle of trying to forget these bad bad thoughts and be able to freely enjoy the thing I love starts all over again.

and that's what you missed on Glee!

[nereidprinc3ss]

relax

in which spencer helps university student reader de-stress after a particularly exhausting assignment

18+ (smut) warnings: fingering, overstimulation, happy crying, lowkey softdom spencer, slight d/s dynamics, reader is referred to as a girl, ????idk i've never had to tag for smut before lols wc: 2624 a/n: been doing some insane literary cooking. lots of smut AND more fluff in the works (all uni reader... lol... ). idk if i love this but again need to fucking get it out of my word doc so here u go, PLEASE lmk if you like it!!

You don’t even realize the room has gone completely dark until Spencer comes in the front door and flicks on the light. 

“Why did you do that?” you snap immediately, looking up from your laptop screen for the first time in potentially hours, blinking hard as your eyes painfully adjust. Your boyfriend gives you an odd look. 

“Hello to you too...” 

“I’m sorry. Hi. How was dinner?” 

“It was good,” he says, crossing the room to the couch that has been your entire world for the past five hours. You sigh, releasing some of the tension in your shoulders when he leans down to kiss your head and set down a to-go box on the coffee table. “Have you moved since I left?” 

“...no,” you admit, moving your eyes dejectedly to the keyboard.  

“You made progress,” he appeases, leaning over you to angle the laptop upward. Immediately you wrench it away, holding it protectively against your chest. 

“Stop! I don’t want you to read it yet!” 

“I could help you with it though,” he pleads, bracing a hand on the arm of the couch. You look up into his hazel eyes, where he’s definitely playing up the puppy dog factor. His tie brushes your stomach, and he smells like lavender and clove and-- 

“You need to go away,” you realize, snapping back to reality and shrinking into the couch, away from him—trying to escape his all-encompassing sensory presence.  

“Wh- I just got back!” he scoffs, straightening. 

“You’re distracting me,” you accuse, throwing him a baleful look. 

“I’m literally offering to help you.” 

“And I’m respectfully declining because I care too much about your opinion to show you this essay until it’s less terrible. I really just need a couple more hours to finish it, please?” 

Spencer sighs, regarding your pitiful state before moving to sit down next to you. Automatically you move your legs out of the way before settling them in his lap and damn it he’s supposed to be going away. Your iron grip on the laptop involuntarily loosens a little as his hands begin to run back and forth over your legs. No—you must stay focused.  

“Spencer,” you whine, flopping your head back. You let the implied complaint hang in the air. 

“You’ve been writing all day. Your brain is exhausted, and your synapses aren’t firing at a rate that is intellectually productive.” 

“What is the point of having a brain if I can’t even use it half the time!” you almost-shout, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes until you see fireworks.  

The couch shifts and you feel the warm, robotic weight of the laptop unpin you as Spencer lifts it from your lap. “Don’t read it,” you beg, watching through parted fingers as he sets it on the coffee table, and relaxing slightly when he settles back into the couch.  

“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm. Too mentally exhausted to do anything but comply, you pull yourself up just enough to fall into him. Immediately he wraps his arms around you, one hand slipping under your shirt to rub your back in hypnotizing passes. “I think you burnt yourself out,” he mutters. 

You nod into his shoulder, surrendering yourself to his warmth, letting yourself sink into a lavender-clove fog, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into it. The darkness behind your eyes glows an inviting amber, threatening to pull you under...  

But the essay... 

“Stop thinking about the essay,” he demands. 

“But I have so much to do,” you sigh against his jacket, the words coming out muffled. 

“The best thing you can do now is give your brain a rest. I promise you you’re not making that paper any better if you’re exhausted.” 

“I am not exhausted,” you insist, although your eyes are still closed, “I’m just really stressed.”  

Spencer hums, continuing to rub your back.  

“Do you need me to help you relax?” he says innocently. 

Oh? 

One of your eyes opens to peer up at him suspiciously. He sweeps some of your hair out of your face. 

“Because I would be happy to.” A moment passes—him looking down at you fondly; you wondering if you’re picking up what he’s putting down. 

“And how would you go about doing that?” you ask suspiciously. 

“Orgasms reduce tension and stress and improve brain function.” 

Damn. Why did the nerdiest, most un-sexy pickup line ever just turn you on?

You groan, burying your face further into his shirt—mostly to hide any trace of a blush. 

“You know what else would reduce stress and improve brain functioning? Taking an Adderall and finishing my fucking essay.”  

“Angel, you're such a smart girl, and you are fully capable of doing whatever you set your mind to—but I will lock your laptop in my gun safe before I let you look at that essay again tonight.” He speaks so softly, and his fingers are still gently combing through your messy hair... all in all, you put up a good fight, right? Maybe you should just listen to him...

“... fine.” you say eventually, reluctant to give in too quickly even though the idea quickly has filled your stomach with butterflies. 

“Fine?” he says, pausing his motions as you turn your head just enough to look up at him. “Sounds like you don’t really want it, baby. Maybe we should just go to sleep. Or I could take you back to your-” 

“Spence,” you whine, gently grabbing the front of his shirt. Now he’s going to make you beg? As if it wasn’t his idea? Those puppy dog eyes of his are deceiving. 

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he sighs, hand moving from your hair to your outer thigh. 

“Please?” you whisper, dignity forgotten as you look up at him imploringly. 

“Lean back, sweet girl,” he says, helping you adjust your position til you’re lying against his chest, legs sprawled across the couch. Your head lolls on his shoulder, intoxicated by his close proximity. “Perfect. Such a good listener.” 

Normally, you’d be quick to make a defensive remark, but with the way he’s slowly hiking your shirt up, running his hands over your sides so lightly it gives you goosebumps—you're really in no position to argue. Your eyes flutter shut as his hands grow bolder in their explorations, crossing your stomach, fingers just slipping under the waistband of your shorts and skimming over your hipbones before coming back up. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs, and you nod lazily, apparently losing access to your language facilities after running them dry all day. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem good enough for your boyfriend. “Do you remember when the last time I touched you like this was?” 

Through the hazy blur of your exhaustion, you try to think back. Was it... two days ago? Three? More? 

“Almost a week ago,” he supplies the answer for you when you take too long. What? That can’t be right. 

But when you think about it harder... it is right. It was right before finals week started.  

An errant hand straying up your torso distracts you. “Do you remember what I did?” 

You flush. 

“You... yeah,” is the best you can offer, too flustered to say exactly what he did to your body. That stray hand moves over your breast. Your back arches just slightly at the stimulation through the thin fabric of your bra.  

Thankfully, he lets you off the hook.  

“I made you cum three times, right?” 

“Mhm,” you hum through closed lips, tense with anticipation as he finally slides both hands down to your shorts and wordlessly directs you to lift your hips so he can pull them all the way off along with your underwear. 

“You’ve been so busy lately, huh. Working so hard.” 

You unconsciously drop your bent legs open, brain too foggy to be insecure about how utterly bare you are—allowing him to slowly rub up and down your inner thigh. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good, honey. I don’t think three times was enough for such a stressful week.” 

You gasp when his fingers finally brush your clit, whimpering slightly when they just barely skim your entrance before tracing the wetness back up.  

“Give me your hand,” Spencer says, taking his own from between your legs and holding it up. You don’t even think about it, releasing your grip on the arm he now has wrapped around you and holding it out for him. At this point, you’d do anything he tells you to without hesitation.  

He takes the proffered hand, gently guiding it back between your legs. Your fingers meet slick, soft warmth. “Do you feel how wet you are?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, seeing how your fingers glisten when you pull them away. His remain, running slowly up and down your clit. Your brain seems to be vibrating in your skull as warmth spreads throughout your body. 

“Who’s that for?” 

“You, Spencer,” you whimper. He hums in approval before the room falls into silence as you both watch his teasing intently, your breath baited as you try to be patient. But your body isn’t with the program, you keep twisting slightly, your hips cant upward. “Please, please,” the words escape on a held exhalation as you finally break, arching your back against him as your search for more friction.  

Without warning, he sinks two fingers inside you. The slight stretch after not having taken anything in a week scratches an itch you didn’t even know you had, and you let out a broken moan. 

“I know, honey. You’re so good, I know.” Spencer kisses your head as he speaks over your cry, barely moving his fingers for a few moments while you get comfortable. 

Still you’re not ready for it when he withdraws and pushes back in. 

“Look at that,” he breathes. 

“Oh, fuck,” you choke, watching how your arousal completely coats his fingers as he slowly, slowly begins to fuck you with them. 

Again you feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs slightly—probably at your earlier insistence that you didn’t desperately want this. The laughter fades as you both become entranced by the sight of his fingers disappearing into you, and your stomach twists with pleasure. His pace remains languid, and he seems to delight in the filthy, wet sounds his hand is producing between your legs.  

“You okay, baby?” he asks after a moment, seemingly snapping out of some trance. 

“Uh huh,” you whimper. One particular drag of his fingers at just the right angle has you dizzy, and then he’s speeding up. Your jaw drops at the change in pace and your hips chase his hand, wanting even more. 

“So pretty,” he mutters as his other hand moves to spread you open.  

You attempt to shut your legs around his wrist, but instead he just ruts his fingers deeper into you, palm pressed against your clit. You attempt to twist away from the extreme stimulation, but he doesn’t allow it. 

“Too much,” you squeak, bucking your hips inadvertently. 

“No it’s not,” he states, like you’re talking about the weather. 

“Spencer, I really c- ah- can't!” 

“It feels like a lot, huh?” he asks soothingly, not letting up one bit. 

“Yes!” you cry, eyes stinging as tears begin to well. 

“You’re okay, angel. It’s just been a while.” 

You are so completely fucked. Each stroke of his hand feels like an electric jolt through your whole body. It is too much, but at the same time, pleasure is pooling deep in your stomach and at the base of your spine and you never want him to stop. You throw your head back onto Spencer’s shoulder, eyes screwed shut.  

“Relax,” he mutters, carefully bearing down the pressure across your waist with his arm to try and keep you from squirming. 

A rhythmic whine breaks through the barrier of your sealed lips as you focus all your energy into taking it, when the all-consuming need to kiss him hits you. You twist your neck to look up at him, observing the furrow of his brow and the way he’s tucked his bottom lip into a bite. Thankfully he notices your movement—his eyes dart from your own half-lidded gaze to your lips and he understands what you want. 

The kiss is messy and the angle is awkward and you’re moaning into his mouth half the time anyway, but it feels so good to have his lips moving on yours that you don’t care about any of it.  

“I—ah,” you cry into him, unable to form a coherent thought as your stomach drops like you’re mounting the peak of a roller coaster. 

His fingers again change their angle and he finds the spot inside you that makes your legs spasm. Attempting to hold in whatever noises you were making is now futile—the whimpers and pants turn to full-fledged keening moans interspersed with taut silences as you fail to breathe properly.  

Your wrench your gaze and lips away from Spencer to watch through a blurry haze the rapid movement of his hand between your bare legs, the way your hips buck and twist and the way your leg bends as he hooks his free hand under your knee and hoists it toward your chest. 

“You’re doing so well, honey. Being so good for me.” 

Moisture spills over from your eyes, tracing down your cheeks and down your neck as you begin to come with no warning and a desperate, broken cry. 

A string of praise from Spencer underscores your pleading moans, but you can’t focus on anything other than the buzzing warmth emanating from your core, the bright, pulsing white that blinds you and the feeling of stardust flowing through your veins. 

Your boyfriend continues pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you for a blissful few moments, before sensing the tail-end of your orgasm and bringing his fingers up to rub lazy circles over your clit. Aftershocks resonate from the hypersensitive area and make you clamp your legs shut around his hand as your toes curl and you attempt to squirm out of his grip. 

“Done! I’m done,” you squeak, rocking your hips back and forth to try and escape his toying. 

“Okay, okay,” he soothes, relieving the pressure of his hand between your legs and moving it to run over your stomach as you come down. 

You lie in silence for a minute, enjoying the liquid sensation weighing down your muscles and basking in the warm afterglow of your orgasm.  

“Shit,” you breathe shakily after a moment. Spencer chuckles. You manage to turn yourself over, laying your cheek on his shoulder and slipping your arms under his waist. He looks down at you as he moves on to massaging your back and bare hips, eyes full of warm adoration.  

“Feel better?” 

You hum an affirmation, wiping your eyes on his shirt. 

“Oh, honey, did I make you cry?” 

You laugh into his chest and nod, a few stray tears leaking from your shut eyes. “It’s okay. Not sad tears.” 

“What kind of tears?” 

“Orgasm tears,” you mumble, a tidal wave of exhaustion you’d been fighting all day finally washing over you. 

“That makes sense. Orgasms can be cathartic or even therapeutic depending on your head space. Major losses and life changes are often associated with sexual dysfunction but the opposite is actually just as if not more common. A spike in libido can—” 

Spencer pauses, looking down to see that you’re either asleep or close to it, and smiles to himself. You’ll probably be mad about it when you wake up, but he had to get you to stop thinking about that paper somehow. 

[wreckofawriter]

Only If You Catch Me

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pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar. 

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy” 

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles. 

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed. 

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last. 

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued. 

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated. 

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison. 

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles. 

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled,  “He reckons it’ll be his gut.” 

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team. 

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.” 

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”. 

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer. 

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you. 

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother. 

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm. 

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced. 

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?” 

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently. 

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!” 

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.” 

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.” 

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred. 

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.” 

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy  who was now standing to leave the pub. 

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped. 

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked. 

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth. 

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely. 

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.” 

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled. 

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out. 

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped. 

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.” 

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.” 

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.” 

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.” 

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered. 

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him.  Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber. 

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready. 

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.” 

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused. 

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring. 

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously. 

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles. 

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?” 

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle. 

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him. 

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”  

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately. 

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation. 

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly. 

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so. 

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you. 

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt. 

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two. 

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes. 

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms. 

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions. 

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open. 

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused. 

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground. 

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face. 

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded. 

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!” 

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.” 

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”  

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?” 

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair. 

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes. 

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again. 

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air. 

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life. 

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were. 

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face. 

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red. 

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!” 

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice. 

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.” 

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles. 

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling. 

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner. 

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was. 

  Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch. 

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room. 

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles . 

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia. 

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away. 

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.” 

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly. 

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.” 

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?” 

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.” 

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman. 

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form. 

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly. 

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away. 

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?” 

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.” 

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead. 

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused. 

“For what?” 

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully. 

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.” 

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.” 

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy. 

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.” 

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still. 

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky. 

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face. 

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps. 

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own. 

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time. 

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence. 

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust. 

 “Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.” 

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race. 

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

taglist: @accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-dood13 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @sarcasticallywitty @rosieweasley @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys @evyiione

m.list

[katkit14]

What's its like being a female in all the Dorms

So I was making characters from my last idea and then it came to me. Headcanons for being the only female in each dorm!

Prompt : So rundown, you are the only female student in the whole school. You were an a talented young woman who was reached out to, as a great opportunity for NRC to open their doors to both females and males alike. (in reality Crowley just thinks girls on campus would be less rowdy then all boys. Means less work for him. Or maybe it's cause RSA started to, and Crowley is offended. Either way you are here now!)

Warnings : Reader isn't yuu/Mc. Reader is born female. mentions of sexism and harrsement. A little cussing to. Mentions of Periods and Bras.

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

Heartslabyul

Riddle would be just as hard on you as the other freshmen. He sees you no differently. Male, female? Doesn't matter, you are still a student. You must obey all the rules to a Tea (get it?). If you don't then it's off with your head just like everyone else. Which if your sorted into this dorm there is good chance you are okay with that. I could see you being more a stickler for rules but even if your not at least riddle is fair.

If you're more chaotic and less strict then Riddle would treat you like Ace. Don't think you are getting away with things just because you act all innocent. He will make you write a 100-page essay on what you did wrong and why you won't do it again. That's if it's after his overblot. If not then it's "OFF WITH YOUR HEADU".

Though if you were forced into a bedroom with boys, Riddle might raise a fuss saying it's improper and get you your own bedroom. He will make the mistake of going through Crowley though.

Trey wouldn't act any different either. He'd also just see you as another freshmen. Carter though, he would avoid you. Like oh no, he has sisters. He "knows" what girls are like. He will warm up to you though.

Ace will flirt so much with you it's unreal. Cheesy pick up lines, smooth one liners, etc. He'll become annoying with it. Like get a spray bottle kind of annoying. Deuce is the opposite. He is super respectful and always a gentleman to you. He may become less stern if you befriend him but he'll always be a bit soft around you. If you ask, he'll beat ace up.

Now the rest or heartslabyul really doesn't react to you, you're kinda just another student. No one looks out for you but no one in the dorm harrases you. Now when it comes to female stuff, everyone in this dorm gets real awkward about it. On your period and are Bleeding through your WHITE dorm uniform? Everyone swet drops but only a few people speak up. If you do end up having to share a dorm room (even with riddle throwing a fit) the other boys in the room would be respectful and change in a bathroom instead of the room. They also would allow you access to the bathroom first ( unless it's ace. Then he pushes you out the way saying "Ladies first my ass" ).

Anyone who harrases you will face Riddles wrath though. Oh and the one brain cell duo. Riddle will be more proper by lecturing them but if the One brain cell duo gets ahold of them, then lights out.

Savanaclaw

Leona let's you off easier then the other students. Mostly cause he is mildly intimidated by you. He knows you aren't a beastman, but it's still ingrained into him to respect females. So if you just stand up to him and be like "yeah no" he won't really fight you. If you are on the softer side, he'd slowly but surely start to have a soft spot for you. He'd still respect you, even if you weren't a fighter. He'd just be more of an asshole if you didn't scare him as much.

If you were forced to share a room, it wouldn't be long before you had your own room since there are a lot of drop outs. Leona would put in the hardwork of making ruggie clear you out a room to yourself.

Ruggie's mostly the same way, he mostly respects you and your stuff. He won't take your stuff either just because of that slight fear. If you befriend him, he'll be more likely to share his food with you then with a guy.

Jack mostly treats you as an equal. No more, no less. Though he can be kinda awkward at first, once you befriend him he's a lot more chill.

Now the rest of Savanaclaw is spilt into two. Seeing you are the mom of Savanaclaw or being sexiest against you. If you are a fighter then you can easily put the sexiest ones in their place. If not, Jack can do it for you. Mostly the ones who see you as mom, would go to war for you. Like you are highly respected. Now if you accept the title then it's a whole lot of caring for dumbass's after fights, and making sure everyone hydrates after work outs. If you don't accept it, it doesn't matter cause they aren't dropping it. But you can kick their ass if they get to annoying.

During sports you have a whole line of bestmen and humans alike cheering for you! Like personal cheerleaders. And during school hours you have a bunch of guys coming through checking up on you, seeing if you are okay. They gotta take care of their dorm mom.

If you get your period, the whole dorm knows. Fun fact, period blood doesn't smell like fresh blood so they know it's your period to. Expect to find a basket of chocolate at your door, with a note saying " please accept this, in return don't kill us."

Octavinelle

Azul has a different opinion depending on what you are like.

I imagine if you got sorted into this dorm then you are more like a shady capitalist. If that's the case then he constantly feels threatened by you and has the Twins keep an eye on you.

If you are more Naive or more sweet then he is a lot less afraid and he puts you to work at the Lounge. Like as a hostess or a waitress, in order to lure more costumers.

If you were forced to share a room with boys he'd arrange another room for you...for a price. Man has no chill.

Jade doesn't really treat you any differently. More or less isn't fazed. He will still beat you up if he has to, and it won't make him go softer on you.

Floyd also doesn't care. He treats you the same as well. Honesty I could see him forgetting you are a girl. If you are a bit curvier he will squish you more. If you are the skinny side he likes to shake you. He swears you raddle. He will base his nickname off your personality, rather then your gender.

As far as the other students? Well everyone tries to budy up with you just purely based on business. It's an opportunity to get you to do stuff for them. If you're at negotiation then you'd be sitting pretty on favors, thaumbucks, and stuff.

Now if you choose not take Azul up on his deal and you are forced to share a room, they will be respectful and not change in front of you but other then that? You are on your own unless they owe you. Need pads/ tampons? Sams shop isn't to far away and you have working legs. It can be kinda hard to make friends in this dorm, with everyone being so shady and always wanting something from you. There really isn't anyone to help if you get harrassed either (unless you befriend the twins, then big scary dog previlige), though if you complain to Azul enough he will step in. You have to be pretty independent to be in this dorm.

Scarabia

Kalim and you are besties. It doesn't matter if agreed to it, he just thinks you are so cool! He treats you like his little sister...so basically like all the other students. He is always inviting to parties and he will take you out on magic carpet rides! He may come off strong but he just wants you to feel comfortable. He does put a lot of stress on jamil though with this...well even more stress.

I feel like if you had to share a room with boys and said you weren't comfortable with that then he would build a whole new just for you! Oh come on, it's the least you he could do to make you comfortable.

Jamil takes a lot longer to be cozy with you. He treats you with respect but doesn't really interact with you more then he has to which he has to a lot thanks to Kalim. Unless you befriend him somehow, then he slowly becomes more protective over you.

Kalim tries his best but doesn't understand female problems. Jamil on the other hand is the one to call if you have really bad cramps that wont go away or need help getting pads/tampons. Just take it easy on him, he's already got a lot to deal with.

The rest of the dorm is pretty nice to you. Most of them try to be helpful where they can, and it's really easy to befriend guys your age. Not a lot of harassment happens here but when it does Jamil will handle it unless you take care of it yourself. Even if he doesn't like you that much, he still doesn't believe in acting that way to girls just cause his little sister.

if you refused to let Kalim build you a room then some of the boys would move in with each other to let you have a room to yourself.

Pomefoire

Vil is even harder on you then he is on other students. He doesn't want you to get away with stuff and not put your best in just because you are female. He will push and push to do your best. From skin care regimens and diets, to work outs and class's on etiquette (depends on what you need according to him.) you would be his secret favorite but he would never tell anyone. Best believe though you will have your own room, and bathroom. He'll get you to chat with him. Tell him who you like, who bothers you. I can just see him judging whoever you like so hard. especially if it was another Dormleader like " Really? Couldn't you do a little better?"

Rook is a little more flirty to you, but not to much that anyone notices. I think flirty is just his personality. Anyways he is a real gentleman, still does as Vil says but gently. He also seems to get a bit protective over you, often getting people when they make you uncomfortable, even if you can handle it yourself.

He thought you were just a girly guy like him at first. Once he finds out your a girl, Epel thinks he has to look out for you. But makes a bunch of off hand comments that make Vil smack him. He is one of those "you can't hit a girl" kind of dudes.

As for the rest Pomefiore, they don't even notice you are a girl. Even if you very curvy. They just think it's drag or something. If your Skinner they just think your a normal student. Unless you tell anyone you are a girl they won't know. If you do tell them they don't care. I can't really see anyone in the dorm messing with you. If not from pure "I don't care enough" then it's the fear of Vil and Rook.

Vil refuses to let you share a dorm room, even if you are fine with it. Unlike Riddle he won't try to go through Crowley. He'll just do it. If there aren't any other rooms then you can stay with him. He if that does happen, he will be very respectful but you won't be able to escape his nagging.

I can see Vil kind of catering to your needs. Like he keeps tampons and pads in the dorms bathroom and giving you ways to get blood out of your clothes. He wants you to feel comfortable.

Ignihyde

Idia, talking to someone? Let alone a girl? Yeah no. He maybe talked to you once or twice because Ortho made him. He stays as far away from you as possible.

Ortho and you are friends. He is just so adorable how could you not? Even if you are shy, it's fine cause he's not. Once you are friends he constantly trying to get his brother and you to interact, but that works as well as trying to introduce water and oil.

Don't worry about sharing a room either cause if you have to, your dorm mates are never there. They refuse to interact with anyone. Hell, I can imagine a student making a wall divider just so no one doesn't have to talk.

It's safe to say no one is gonna harass you. They would feel scared being around you. I guarantee you that they have never talked to a real girl, and they don't plan to. That does mean you are on your own, about everything. It can also be hard to make friends but not impossible. Just hard. But hey you have the best wifi in the whole school! I imagine if you are in this dorm you are probably more antisocial yourself so you are probably fine with no one talking to you. But if you aren't, probably look for friends outside of your dorm.

I'm sorry this one is shorter, there isn't a lot to say on this dorm.

Diasomnia

Malleus is more then welcoming. Though he will keep his distance if you are scared of him. If you aren't then you will quickly become friends with him. He doesn't really see you differently then other students, but he does understand you may find some challenges that other students won't and he tries his best to accommodate to that.

If you share a dorm room, and you aren't comfortable he will get you another room to yourself. Very easily to. If you are fine with it or don't say anything then he won't know to so speak up. Feel free to complain to him. I don't know why but I see him being a softer dorm leader.

Lilia has to adopted you, sorry. Sebek and Silver both betray you, and point to you whenever Lilia asks who wants to try his cooking....if you survived feel free to punch them.

Speaking of Sebek and Silver, Sebek dislikes you. Or at least at first. He thinks your far to close to Malleus, but also you should worship him? Can't have your cake and eat it to. But after awhile he accepts you but barely.

Silver likes you just fine. I can see really anyone getting along with him. The only thing really wrong about him is sleepyness but he can't help that. So you two will probably become friends no matter your personality.

As far as the rest of dorm goes (is there other students? But nah really) most people leave you be. Not really talking to you or paying attention to you. I don't really see anyone fucking with you here, but if they do lilia will see to it if you don't handle it yourself. If Malleus finds out though, boy do they get the hell out of NRC. Malleus doesn't believe in sexism. Really none of the Diasomnia boys do but Malleus and Lilia have the power to do something about it.

Lilia and Silver is a lot more understanding of Female problems then Malleus and Sebek. Silver is a very understanding kind of guy, and Lilia's old has experience. I imagine fae also have periods but they are different. So lilia might not understand entirely but knows the basics. Malleus is clueless though he tries to understand. He will ask questions on everything if you allow him to, if not Lilia will explain. He just wants to know, so he can help. Sebek though just refuses to learn or care. He doesn't see you any different from anyone else really. So he treats you like he does all the other first year's (your poor eardrums). None other then Malleus ( if you've befriended him) are that protective of you. With most viewing you can take care of yourself just fine.

If you do end up sharing a room though, I feel like it'd probably be with Sebek. Who doesn't care whether you are Female or not. He won't change in front of you or try to peep at you. He will leave your stuff alone to. But sharing a room with him comes with it's own challenges.

He will still keep up his shrine to Malleus. He will hog the bathroom half the morning. He will be very loud in the morning and at night. Great seven forbid you stay up past 9pm.

I don't really see you sharing a room with other dorm members but if you do, then they mostly leave you alone. They won't change in front of you but that's it. Not really much to say there.

Bonus

If you leave Bras around your room in ignihyde, One of the boys will faint.

If you're in Pomefiore, you will be one Crewels favorite students.

In Heartslabyul, if you leave a little pad station in the bathroom, some of the first year boys will start using them as badaides.

The Savanaclaw boys use Hair ties and Srunchies as a weapon so if you have long hair, good luck.

If you are in Diasomonia, and rooming with Sebek. If you leave blood on the toilet seat, he will freak out asking in a very tsundere way if you are okay, once it's explained...Lilia will not let him live it down like ever.

If you are in Octavinille, don't ever leave a bra or undergarment in the open. Floyd will use it as a sling shot. (ace would to)

In Scarabia, Kalim forgets you are girl sometimes. Like" hey you want to go swimming with me? I had a pool put in yesterday! Everyone was getting way to hot!" "sorry I can't im on my period" "What?". Jamil faceplamed, cause Kalim knows what a period is, he just forgot you get them.

[sierrale8ne]

paige bueckers x black!fwb!oc part one part two

nsfw // 3.9k words, dom!paige, sub!oc, oral (p is a munch #munchmadness), strap-on sex, praise, spit play, stomach bulge, hair pulling, breeding kink, dirty talk (this is a given atp), they’re a lil mean i’m ngl, fluff.

The sun barely even begun to rise yet, just shyly peeking out from behind the horizon when Venus began to shift in and out of sleep. Her head softly pressed against the silk pillowcase, a hand pressed against her cheek as she turned towards Paige.

The blonde was yet to have fallen asleep, she’d been up for hours, thinking about the pair’s admission of feelings on the couch.

It didn’t go further than soft kisses after that. Venus didn’t say it again, and neither did Paige. But she wanted to. So bad. The moment didn’t feel real, and with how fast Venus fell asleep in her arms, she thought she must have dreamed it. Paige thought it had to have been the heat of the moment or maybe even the chocolates. When Paige dropped the bomb, she meant it. But for whatever reason, her mind wouldn’t allow her to believe that Venus meant it too.

The soft shine of sunlight bounced off of Venus’s brown skin, the glow of her skin was mesmerizing, Paige couldn’t believe that this was how she got to spend her morning. Simply admiring the girl in all her glory.

She reached out to tug on the scarf around Venus’s head, pulling it forward to avoid hearing her yell about it slipping off, when she woke up. The action caused Venus to stir a little bit more, blinking sleep out of her eyes and seeing Paige practically stare at her.

Her head was resting in the palm of her hand, an elbow propped on the head to keep her upright. Strands from her bun falling in messy pieces across her face. The sports bra Paige wore was more than enough to highlight the hickeys on her neckline.

“Were you watching me sleep?” The groggy morning voice made Paige briefly shut here eyes.

“No.”

“You lying?” Venus questioned. Her lips were slightly swollen from sleep and her eyes were nearly shut. A sight Paige found all too attractive at 5:45 in the morning. How could she look so beautiful fresh out of sleep?

“You’re a pretty sleeper, I got mesmerized.”

“Quit that.” Venus blushed, her hand covered her face as she nuzzled her head back into her pillow. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I was just thinking about shit. Don’t worry about it, V.” Paige shook her head. “Go back to sleep, I know you’re tired.”

“Oh, you know?”

Paige nods, thinking back to the night they had before, the sound of their moans ringing in her ears, the feeling of Venus’s touch on the most sensitive parts of her body. She knew her like nobody else did, studied Paige like she was a piece of literature. Venus could write a whole multi-page essay on everything about the girl.

She scooted closer, brushing the hair out of Paige’s face. She looked ethereal with the small rays of sun on her face. “Baby?”

“Did I tell you how much I love it when you call me that?” The blonde responded, a soft blush forming on her face.

“What were you thinking about?”

In the back of her mind, Venus already knew what Paige was thinking about. Paige was not a fan of love, one specific girl who lead her on for months was to blame for that. And Venus was victim to something similar. It’s what made this casual sex relationship easy, they didn’t have to worry about falling in love, because they weren’t searching for it.

But here they were, just hours after admitting to the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen, that should’ve never happened, and now neither one of them knew how to move forward.

Paige chewed on her bottom lip, a nervous habit that Venus found adorable. “I-uh. Did you mean it? What you said last night?”

“Did you?” Venus rebutted. She didn’t know how to go about this conversation. Paige was a sweetheart and she knew that, but God was it hard not to think that she was going to leave her for dead after this conversation.

Paige nodded slowly, knowing that if the words were to leave her mouth again that everything would become real. The feelings she felt would be real, the possibility of her getting hurt again would be real. And she didn’t want that. Not with Venus.

“You have to say it, Paige. I need to hear you say it.”

The silence in the room was deafening. It was hard for Paige to do that, Venus knew it probably better than anyone else. But she needed that for herself, she needed to know that the person she was the most intimate with, the person who was the most important to her felt the same way she did.

Paige leaned closer, cupping Venus’s cheek in her hand. The atmosphere became more tense and neither of them wanted to move, to scared of breaking down the other. So Venus was the one to make the move, pressing her soft lips to Paige’s with a touch that resembled a feather before pulling back.

“Venus.”

She waited, eagerly for her to say something else. Then was surprised by Paige leaning back in for another kiss.

It did hurt a part of her to not get that verbal confirmation, but as soon as Paige’s lips met hers again, as soon as her large, soft hands met her waist and laid her on her back, Venus pushed it all to the back of her mind.

“You drive me crazy.” Paige mumbled against her lips, pulling on the hem of the black Nike Basketball t-shirt Venus sported. Her lips moved like they had a mind of their own, blending with Venus’s as her tongue parted them and slipped inside her mouth—morning breath seemingly the least of her concerns. She pulled the shirt up more, feeling the warmth of her thighs and letting out a soft groan.

Venus’s hand crept towards the band of Paige’s boxers, snapping the elastic against the ivory skin of her hip bones.

“Slow down.” Paige muttered, her kisses soothing in nature, “we got all morning. All day if you let me.”

Venus would. Without a doubt she would let her do whatever she pleased. Paige could ask her to jump and she’d ask how high. It’s why, even despite the slight pain in her chest, she still let the blonde touch her like this and speak to her like this. Venus’s hands left Paige’s hips, reaching to wrap her arms around her neck and pull the athlete closer.

“Stop it.” Venus begged, not sure what she meant. To stop holding back, maybe to stop teasing, she definitely didn’t want Paige to stop kissing her and the athlete didn’t stop. “Please.”

Paige pulled back, not a single word leaving her lips as she pulled the shirt over Venus’s head and tossed it off the bed. “You’re so beautiful, V.” Those soft pink lips found her neck, kissing the bruised skin there with an incredible tenderness. “Most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Paige.” Her name left Venus’s throat as a strangled moan.

Paige’s kisses traveled slowly, at first to her collarbone where she kissed the bible scripture tattoo marked there. Isaiah 60:22. Paige remembered the very first time she saw it, the very deep conversation it invoked.

She then kissed her shoulder, at the Dahlia’s inked into her skin. The girl’s favorite flower, the ones Paige bought for her every time they fought, every time Venus had given her weed for free, every time the girl crossed her mind in a way that was more than purely sexual.

Her lips met the valley of Venus’s breasts, then over to the supple skin where she pulled a nipple into her mouth. “You should get these pierced, you know?” Paige spoke into her chest. “They’d look even more perfect.”

Venus simply nodded, arching her back into the blonde some more. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Whatever you want.” Venus moaned, eyes fluttering open to see Paige already staring back at her. Bright sky blue eyes drinking in her entire being, pink tongue swirling around her swollen nipple, sucking on it like a woman starved. “Just wanna make you happy, P.”

“I know you do.” She nodded, moving to show some attention to Venus’s other tit. “That’s why you let me touch you like this, right?” Paige asked. Her lips kept sliding down Venus’s decorated body, passing by each scar, each drop of ink, each bruise and love bite.

“That’s why you always forgive me, even when I piss you off so bad? You just wanna make me happy?” Venus’s breath hitched when she felt Paige speak against her hipbone, “tell me again. Tell me you love me.”

“You’re so fuckin’ mean. Can’t even say it to me first, and now you wanna hear me say it again? Fuck you.” Venus breathed, slightly pushing back at the blondes shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” Paige apologized. Her long fingers reached up to hold onto Venus’s hand interlacing their fingers together, the other creeping to the hem of the girl’s panties. White lace with an innocent small white bow. “You know how I feel about you, baby.” She added, kissing right above her clit through the cloth.

Paige’s tongue darted out to lick a stripe up Venus’s clothed clit, collecting her essence on her tongue.

“So wet. I do that, V?”

“Fuck. You.”

“I will. I promise, but you gotta say something for me first.” Paige teased, continuing with slow licks to her most prized possession. Venus could feel the saliva seeping though running past her folds from Paige’s actions, she was giving in. As desperately as she wanted to stand her ground, not let Paige break what was left of her confidence, it was so fucking hard.

“I hate you.” Venus said. Her voice attempted to be stern but it came out as a slight whimper. “Yes. You get me this wet, P.” Venus admitted.

The blonde dipped under the thick comforter and began pulling the lace down Venus’s long, toned legs. Her eyes immediately falling towards her dripping center and her head completely diving into it before there was even a chance to fully take her underwear off. The fabric clinging to Venus’s lower thighs.

Venus’s taste was addictive, that was evident in the way Paige’s tongue instantly traveled to her hole, torturously fucking her with her tongue and groaning loudly. She could die like this.

“More. Please, gimme more.” Venus moaned, her head craning down towards her lover. She let go of Paige’s hand, moving to hold the comforter to get a better look.

“I love how you taste.” Paige admitted. Her tongue swirling around Venus’s swollen clit, eyes looking up at her body. “I love how pretty you look like this.” Her choice of words was purposeful, telling Venus everything she loved about her as if it would excuse her inability to say those three words in the right order.

“Paige, shut the fuck up.” Venus whined. Her free hand forced her head deeper into her pussy, scratching at her scalp and tugging her roots roughly. “Just make me feel good, baby.” She drawled, slowing her eyes to close.

Paige moved her head side to side, practically at Venus’s mercy with the way she guided the blonde’s head. Her tongue dived into the deepest parts it could reach as Venus desperately pushed her in deeper. Paige let out a moan at the aggression and the arousal on her tongue.

Venus eventually let go, her body tingling as she pulled both hands away and gripped onto her sheets the thick blanker falling onto the blonde and Venus’s head falling back into her pillow.

She would never understand how each time they did this Paige would get even better than before. She found ways to garner reactions that Venus never experienced before. Her chest was heaving at the moment, hips raising off the bed and Paige had to hold her back down, nails digging into her skin.

“Fuck, it’s so good. Make me cum, daddy.” She moaned, grinding against the girl’s lips as best as she could until Paige sat up slowly, detaching herself from Venus’s pussy with a few kisses. She rose from under the sheets, giving a soft peck to Venus’s lips before licking her own clean.

She moved off the bed, much to Venus’s displeasure because her head fell back frustratingly. Navigated through the closet, she looked for and found the long purple strap-on that they had used more times than Paige could count on both hands. Venus watched as she discarded her boxers and fit it on.

“I love how much of a slut you are for me.” Paige finally spoke again, tapping the tip of the silicone onto Venus’s cunt, the sound echoing loudly through the room. The strap slowly broke into Venus’s pussy, the moan that left her mouth would ring in Paige’s ears for a lifetime. “Daddy’s pretty little slut.”

Her strokes were slow, giving Venus’s time to adjust to the length of her cock quite literally breaking her apart and the feeling of it against her g-spot. Then as soon as Venus reached to pull her closer, it was over. Paige’s thrusts sped up, her eyes glued to where they connected.

“I love strechin’ you out. Making you keep it open for me.” She spoke, holding Venus’s hip with one hand while the other held her leg to the side. Paige was so enamored with this view. She wanted it permanently engraved in her brain, burned into the back of her eyelids so she could see it whenever she closed her eyes.

“So big—” Venus moaned, scratching at Paige’s waist. The blonde leaned in close, pressing her lips to her neck where she sucked on the sensitive skin. Her palm moved to rest beside Venus’s head. Venus’s jaw fell slack, her arms wrapped snugly around Paige’s neck. “‘M so fuckin’ full, P.”

“Aww I know. But you take it so well.” Paige praised. Her lethal thrusts finally slowed down again, she rolled her hips so deep Venus saw stars. “Takin’ my cock so deep. You’re doin’ so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

She was right: it was so deep. The bulge very evident in Venus’s lower stomach. Paige nearly drooled at how tight Venus was against the strap, she swore she could feel it, making her clit throb as she grinded her hips against the back of the harness.

“Oh my God.” Venus whimpered, her hand pulling at Paige’s bra straps while Paige pushed down at her abdomen and fucked her hard. The combination of her deep stroke, the rough pace, and Paige’s large hand made Venus’s orgasm approach like a freight train. “Right there, yeah there. Fuck, yes!”

“You feel that? That’s all me.” Paige spoke cockily. She peered down briefly at where her cock moved in and out of Venus’s cunt, the sloppy mess she was making around the purple length. She wanted to taste it again, so bad. “Such a messy girl.” She teased before pulling out slowly.

“No, Paige. Stop fucking teasing me.” She whined, bucking her hips upward towards what she wanted most.

Paige ignored her, situating herself near the edge of the bed again and licking through Venus’s folds once again. Her eyes rolled at her lover’s taste, nose prodding at her pretty clit in a way that Venus could only describe as euphoric. “You gonna let me do what I want. You know why?” Paige mumbled into her cunt, feeding on the moans that left Venus and how those made her own cunt drip.

“Because you fuckin’ love me.”

Her plump pink lips wrapped around Venus’s clit, two fingers running through her slick as her other hand ran up her body and gripped her breast harshly. Paige slipped those two fingers inside, immediately curling them to the spot she had learned so well. “You love my voice, you love my tongue on this pussy.”

“Paige, I’m— gonna cum, shit!” Venus moaned, her legs slowly giving in around Paige’s head but the blonde didn’t seem to care, Venus’s pleasure more important.

She drove her fingers in deeper, twisting them and finding a new angle that made Venus mewl and writhe in her bed. Paige sucked harder, drawing Venus’s juices into her mouth before pulling away and spitting them back into her cunt until she was glistening. Her tongue lolled out to collect it again, eating Venus so well just as she had promised the night before.

I wanna eat you ‘til you’re begging me to stop. She promised she would. And she was.

Paige was so dedicated she didn’t even notice when Venus came with a cry of her name, she kept feasting on the girl’s over sensitive cunt and toying with her painfully hardened nipples and breaking her fingers in and out.

“Fuck! P-Paige!” Venus’s hand trailed to push her head away, her clit felt like it had a pulse of its own, an Paige knew she should stop, but Venus was just so wet and her moans were just so pretty. She didn’t even need to look at her face because Paige had seen the view so many times. She could nearly paint the picture of Venus’s back arched and eyebrows furrowed tight. The pout she would have on her face by now, combined with the sliver of drool that fell from the corner of her lip. Paige knew Venus like the back of her hand.

“Stop, fuck! I can’t take it, P!” Venus pushed a little harder and Paige sat up with the inevitable pop of her lips echoing off the walls.

She had never been so obsessed with the view of Venus desperately trying to catch her breath. It was so fucking hot. Venus was so fucking hot. She’d be a fool to let the girl go, especially now with her feelings growing to the size of a boulder in her chest.

Paige’s free hand held her cheeks together, forcing her mouth open as she allowed her spit to fall off her tongue and into Venus’s mouth before doing it a second time. Venus swallowed, keeping as much eye contact as she could through her lidded eyes.

Her lips puckered and Paige met them, their teeth clashing in the heated exchange. No words left their lips, just the occasional drunken smile and pornographic moan.

“Mmm turn over.” Paige instructed when she pulled away. Her fingers entering her mouth to lick the rest of Venus’s mess off of them before the soft fingertips tapped against Venus’s hip, assisting her in turning over and pressing a hand to the girls back to arch her the way she wanted.

The tip of the purple strap met her pussy again, teasing from her clit up to her hole which clenched and unclenched expectantly. “Say please.” The blonde joked.

“You’re such a bitch, Paige.” Venus breathed out, almost laughing but she didn’t find her joke funny in the slightest. She pushed her hips back, desperate for any type of connection. Paige’s eyes were glued to her, eating up the sight of her strap easing into Venus’s dripping cunt.

Paige’s lip found its way between her teeth as she drew her hips back, she let out a low whistle at the cream that covered the silicone before pushing back in. The rhythm the blonde found was fueled by that perfect arch in front of her and Venus’s sexy piercings in her lower back.

She was drunk off of it. Drunk on the girl’s moans, her ass rippling against her pelvis with each stroke. Her hands held onto Venus’s hips, pulling her back slightly to match her movements.

“Just like that, P. Mmm, fuck.” She groaned with her hands gripping at the sheets.

The athlete reached forward for Venus’s hair, the braids once neatly wrapped with her silk scarf now falling perfectly down her shoulders. Paige wrapped her hand around it in a makeshift ponytail before tugging, a cry of her name leaving Venus’s throat. Her large hand landed possessively on her ass once, twice, three times before griping the flesh softly.

“All I gotta do to get rid of that attitude is fuck you? You actin’ right now? Or am I still a bitch?” She murmured, and Venus could do nothing but moan. The multitude of sensations was too much to process at once.

Paige bottomed out, going deeper if possible. Her own clit was throbbing at the stimulation from the harness but she wanted to hold her own until Venus reached that peak again.

The tattooed girl couldn’t answer. Her eyes sinking to the back of her head as she repeatedly let out different variations of the same sounds.

“Fucking you stupid. Can’t even answer me, huh?” Paige coos, and Venus screams at how good it feels. “It’s still fuck me?”

“Oh, Paige. You feel so fuckin’ good.” Venus moaned while Paige’s pace stayed consistent, fucking her just right to get her close, keeping her on that edge. “I’m gonna cum. Wanna cum on your cock. Please, please.”

She practically manhandled her at that, tugging harder on Venus’s hair until her back met the flush of Paige’s chest. She held her there and dropped a hand to circle at her clit and Venus let out a gasp.

“Nah, hold it. Tell me what I wanna hear.” Paige said into her ear. Her lips met Venus’s neck kissing it softly as she pounded Venus’s life away, the strap nudging her g-spot with an insane amount of pressure. Just the way she needed it to. “Who do you love, ma?”

Venus attempted to avoid the question, wanting to stand her ground on the subject that led to Paige splitting into her like this in the first place. A “fuck!” escaping her mouth when Paige added more pressure to her clit, her juices leaking down her legs and the blonde’s doing the same thing.

“I wanna make you cum.” Paige started. Her face buried in Venus’s neck. Their bodies stuck together by the atmosphere of their sloppy morning indulgences. “Wanna feel you cum around my cock, Baby. Gonna fill you up so fucking deep. Make you a pretty mama. Just say it, and it’s all yours, V.”

It was manipulative. The way she babbled into Venus’s ears, not only fucking her to her release, but desperately searching for her own. Paige’s voice broke off into sinful moans, the hand once in Venus’s hair now clawing at the girl’s hips.

“Say that shit. Tell me you love me. Tell me it’s just me, I’m it for you.”

“I— fuck— I love you. I love you. Paige, I can’t anymore. Please.” Venus gave in, letting her head fall against the blonde’s shoulder as she accepted her fate.

“You can be louder than that.”

“I love you!”

The phrase scratched a certain itch in Paige’s brain. Making her nod into Venus’s neck groaning as she felt her own orgasm sneak behind her. “That’s what I thought. I love you more, mama. Cum, baby.”

The words run a thousand miles a minute in Venus’s head, turning her brain and body to mush and she screams as she comes. She can feel the smirk Paige leaves burned into her skin as she does so as well, covering the back of the strap in her own sinful substance. Venus collapses down onto the bed, thighs slightly shaking while Paige helps her ride it out.

“Stop.” She begs, or attempts to, pushing the girl’s hand away from her cunt. Paige curses lowly, saying something more to herself as she slips out of Venus’s sopping wet canal. Her orgasm covering the silicone in a sheer white that Paige moaned at again.

“You’re— a freak.” Venus tells her, a deep breath taken in between her words. Paige just laughs, disposing of the soiled strap on the edge of the bed and lying next to her. She can’t even think of how many hours must have passed because the sky was brighter than when they started and her phone was suddenly dinging with notifications.

The marks across Venus’s body are downright dirty, a painful painting of the love Paige had felt for her for months finally coming together alongside her other ink storylines. Hickeys decorated her neck and chest and hips and thighs. Wherever Paige could leave a mark she did; clearly.

She turned her head slightly falling in love with the way Paige looked looking at her. Eyes softer than she’s ever seen them. Her tanned skin flushed, with hairs framing her sculpted face. Pink lips full and swollen from biting them. She sported matching hickeys across her skin, some new and red, and others a deep purple from the night before.

“Hi.” Paige was the first to speak up.

“Hi, baby.” Venus grinned softly, her voice hoarse and throat aching.

She puckered her lips as she approached Venus, giving her forehead a short kiss and letting her lips rest there, “I love you. You hear me? You don’t get to leave now.” Her tone of voice was in a joking manner but Venus knew it was a genuine concern. To catch feelings for someone was one thing, but to open up to Venus like this was different. She didn’t want to get hurt again.

“I won’t. You’re mine and I’m yours.” Venus responded. Her decorated arms wrapped around Paige’s body, snuggling into her side and Paige cuddled her with a smile she couldn’t fight off even if she tried. “I love you.” The words were so foreign she felt no other choice but to repeat them until they stuck forever.

“I love you.” Paige replied, letting sleep finally take over her.

author’s note omg who wrote this… (ovulation week was hitting y’all idk what came over me here) this is the official final part for this short series, but i’m not opposed to writing more for venus and paige if you would like to see it! send me requests and thank you so much for all the love this past week, im feeling very appreciative! 😌

[felinecyan]

When The Night Calls

[Izuku Midoriya x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Your best friend leaving the hero course was enough to make you lose your mind. Especially when he’s suddenly standing across from you with nothing but a tired smile.

WC: 2978

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Vigilante!Deku

Please give this one extra love!! Somehow Midoriya is also very suspiciously difficult to write 👀 (Also, that 3rd-degree burn I gave my hand today is making me want to cry and throw myself in a river. Damn you, AO3 curse!! )

『••✎••』

Seeing that letter taped on your door broke you in more ways than one.

He had been gone for almost a week, but his note left behind made you realize just how long it'd been. How long he had left you with nothing more than a simple explanation of his departure and how it felt like he was never coming back.

The entire class had been on edge ever since. The note even threw Bakugo for a loop, as much as he would deny it. It had everyone wondering where he was and if he was okay.

It hurt you the most, though. He was the closest friend you had and the only one who truly understood your feelings.

But now he was gone.

Aizawa still continued teaching, but with Midoriya absent, the class just couldn't focus. He wasn't as good at making things seem less depressing or stressful, and his lectures were just boring without a green bush to lighten the mood. Or at least, you thought so.

You haven't been paying much attention lately, and you're too busy thinking of your missing friend. Your grades had been slipping, but it wasn't like anyone could blame you. Even if your friends could, they didn't say anything.

They had tried talking to you, but all you could do was give them a half-hearted smile, shake your head, and tell them, "I'm fine."

You weren't fine, and you knew that. But what were you supposed to do? Cry about it? It’s not like he’d come back if you did that.

Ironically, he did technically come back.

That day, Aizawa decided to keep the pain everyone felt about Midoriya buried beneath the surface, so he assigned you all a ten-page essay about the history of quirks.

So, here you were, writing a half-assed essay close to two in the morning. Kaminari was blowing up the group chat with memes and random jokes, but no one seemed to care or even respond.

Well, that was until Bakugo started yelling at him to stop texting because he was trying to sleep.

That went on for about a solid ten minutes, with everyone getting annoyed at the two idiots, but eventually, it died down.

You took a glance at the clock, which now read 2:12 a.m.

Sleep just couldn't come to you. Not now, not when your brain was filled with thoughts of the broccoli boi.

Then, there was a tiny patter against your window, almost like a knock. If it hadn’t been so quiet, you might not have heard it.

You ignored it at first, of course, but it continued, the knocks getting louder and more urgent.

Finally, you stood from your chair, deciding to investigate, but then, the knocking stopped.

You paused, confused, but shrugged, figuring you must have been hearing things.

Yeah, right, because hearing knocks on your dorm window at 2 a.m. is normal.

It turned out to be a good thing you got up because when you turned back around, a figure was directly behind you.

You jumped back in fear, letting out a short shriek before slapping your hands over your mouth. The side eye glance to your window, now open and curtain rustling in the slight wind, had you regretting not locking the damn thing.

The figure let out a small chuckle, his shoulders shaking a bit, and your heart rate sped up.

You could see the person a lot better now that they weren't in the shadows, but the moonlight still kept their face hidden.

All you could see was the curly mess of green hair and a large hoodie with a black mask pulled over the bottom half of their face.

But you didn’t have to see his eyes to know exactly who it was.

Your hands fell limply to your sides as the boy stepped closer. His hand reached the hood of his suit, slowly pulling it off, and his bright, emerald green eyes were staring straight into yours.

The only thing you could do was stare, dumbfounded.

"You did lock it, by the way," the boy's voice said. It sounded hoarse and scratchy as if he hadn't spoken in days. He probably hadn't.

Still, his intuition never failed.

You continued to stare, eyes wide and unblinking.

Midoriya's brow furrowed, a look of worry replacing his smile.

"They really should put more difficult locks on these things. I mean, honestly, all I had to do was twist it, and it opened. If I were a villain, then— hmph!"

Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly, cutting him off. His eyes widened, surprised, but eventually, he relaxed, wrapping his own arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

"I was so worried," you said. You could feel your body starting to tremble, tears pricking your eyes. "Everyone was."

His arms tightened, his chin resting on your shoulder.

"I know. I'm sorry," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. "I couldn't think of any other way."

You leaned back a bit enough to look him in the eyes. His tired, determined eyes.

"Wait, if you’re here… does that mean...?"

"I need my notebook." He kept his frown, and a sigh escaped his lips. "You have my old notes, right? I need those."

Oh.

That was it.

That was why he was back.

"Oh," You failed to hide the disappointment in your tone. "Right, uh, hold on…"

You pulled away, your eyes looking away from his. You could feel his eyes burning into the back of your head as you walked over to the desk, rummaging through the drawer.

Speaking of, your desk was an absolute disaster. If allowing students in your dorm room wasn't against the rules, Iida would have broken down your door a long time ago, screaming at the top of his lungs about how your room was in utter chaos.

Eventually, you found it. It was covered in sticky notes, and some of the pages were folded. Makes sense, considering the fact that you'd spent the last week reading it, studying, and hoping to find some kind of clue about his whereabouts and the league itself.

But even if it was in your hands, screaming for its owner, you hesitated. He was going to leave again, wasn't he? He wasn't going to stay.

But common sense hit you. You couldn’t force him to stay. It would be selfish of you to even ask.

You turned, walking back over to him. He was staring intently at the ground, his eyes narrowed in concentration, and he had a small frown on his face.

When you were a couple of feet away, he finally looked up, his hand reaching out for the book.

"Here," you said, trying not to let the sadness seep into your words. "Don’t mind the added stickies. Simpler terms, easier to understand, you know?"

"Right, thanks," he murmured, his eyes darting over the cover before flipping through the pages. His brows were scrunched together, and his fingers fiddled with the pages, flipping through them with a practiced speed.

He was so concentrated on the notebook that he didn't see your frown, and he didn't see the sadness in your eyes.

But then, he froze.

His eyes scanned over one of the pages, his fingers tightening around the spine of the book, and his breath hitched.

His eyes flickered up to yours, and his lips were set in a tight line.

"You read this?"

"Huh?" You blinked, taken aback. "Was I… not supposed to read it all?"

"What? No, no, I meant this page."

He flipped the book around, opening it to a certain page, and held it up for you to see.

Oh, yeah, his page. The one where he wrote about himself. Which, proudly, you knew most of what was written in it, anyway. Some things caught you off guard, but not many.

"Oh, yeah, I skimmed over it," you admitted.

"And... how much did you skim over?"

"Um... all of it? I mean, I'm in your hero notes, too. I took a lot more of my time on the page dedicated to me, I have to admit, but uh… What's the big deal?"

Midoriya looked at you, and his gaze was intense. "Did you… miss me that much that you would study my hero notes that closely?"

"Well, I wouldn’t say closely—"

He tilted his head in an almost sarcastic manner, and his eyes narrowed as he leaned over to point at a section in his notes.

A bright pink sticky note, covered in stars, was stuck onto the paper.

It was a small part, a very short paragraph, and you had given your analysis of him and not of his quirk either. It was a list of his attributes, his personality, and the type of hero he was.

To someone else, it would be pretty informative about what kind of person he was and what kind of hero he would be, but you both knew the true meaning behind the note.

Because it was all the things you missed about him.

"… oh, " was all you could say.

The air around you two suddenly became awkward, the silence becoming heavy.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But, as expected, Midoriya broke the silence.

"I figured since you’re still awake, it must mean that you're working on homework or studying, and you wouldn’t do that at night if I weren’t gone," he began. "I thought that maybe it would be too soon to come back, or even that I should have stayed away, but, well, I really needed my notes, and, honestly, I wanted to see you, and—!"

He was rambling again. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, his brain spitting out more words than his mouth could.

At least he was still himself, you thought.

You decided to cut him off, placing your hand on his arm, and he jolted at the sudden contact, his head snapping back up to yours.

"I’m sorry," you said, looking down.

He looked confused, tilting his head. "What for? You have nothing to be sorry for; you didn't do anything wrong."

"No, I—" You cut yourself off, biting your lip, and looked away. You took a deep breath before speaking.

"I'm sorry," you started. "For not stopping you. For not coming with you. For not helping you. I had no idea what you were going through, and I was too worried about myself, and I didn't—"

"Hey, hey, stop," Midoriya said, placing his hand on your shoulder. You hadn't realized you were shaking. "This is my fight, okay? It's not yours, and I was the one who didn’t want to bring anyone else into this mess. This isn’t your fault, so please don’t beat yourself up about it."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." You looked back up at him, tears blurring your vision. "I don’t know how to help."

He was silent for a moment, but then, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you once again, and you buried your head in his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

"It's okay," he said. "I don’t expect you to know how to help, and I didn’t come here for your help. Well, technically, I did since you had my notebook, but I’m speaking on a—"

“I know, I know," you mumbled.

Another moment of silence, and then, he sighed, a puff of air brushing your ear.

"I'm not sure when I'll be back, if I ever will, but I promise," he whispered, his breath tickling your ear and his words making your heart skip a beat. "I promise we will be fine. We all will. Me, you, everyone else. It might take a while, but we will be okay."

You nodded, your grip on his hoodie tightening. This was the sound of a goodbye, and the finality of it terrified you.

"It’s just…" you mumbled, and his brow furrowed.

"Just what?"

You hesitated, a lump forming in your throat.

"What?" He repeated, pulling back to look you in the eye. "Please tell me."

You took a deep breath, swallowed the lump, and looked him in the eye.

"It's just that... You’re my not-alone buddy, remember?”

Midoriya froze, his eyes widening.

It was a little game you two had back when things weren’t so complicated. Back when you were just normal students.

You both struggled to make friends, so you made a pact. Obviously, that thought disbanded when everyone else got close, and now you all were pretty good friends, but the friendship between him and you was different. It was a bond between you two that was just special.

Not even ‘Kacchan’ could ruin that, as close as he and Midoriya grew.

You never called him Deku, even after Bakugo and the rest of the class started calling him by the nickname. Sure, it was his hero name, and you could call him that, but you just never felt comfortable.

Todoroki didn’t either, but then again, Todoroki didn't call anyone by their nicknames.

But, back to the point.

"We made a pact, and... that was one of the things I wrote on the sticky notes." You gestured to the book. "It was during my angry denial phase, so I’m not that proud of it, but… it was still true."

"You were angry?" He asked, confused. "Why?"

"Well, first of all, I was worried sick. I knew you were going to go do something stupid, and obviously, I was right.”

He winced at that.

"But I was angry because you didn’t trust me, and I felt like you were leaving me, too," you said, biting your lip. "I know that sounds stupid and selfish, and I get that this was your battle, not mine, and I can't change that, but... I guess I was just scared. You didn’t even tell me before you left, and the note was just..."

You trailed off, a lump forming in your throat again, and your eyes burned with tears.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, so you buried your face in his chest again, and his grip tightened around you.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

You shook your head. "Don’t apologize. It's not like you're changing your mind."

He was quiet for a moment, his head lowering and his lips resting on your forehead.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Your breath hitched. "Izuku, please don't say it."

He pulled back, and his face was unreadable. He looked determined, his eyes burning with passion, and it hurt. It hurt to know that, despite everything, he still had his mind made up.

"I have to go," he said, and his voice was quiet. "I don’t want to leave you alone. I really don’t, but I have to, and you need to stay safe. Me being here isn't doing anything good, and I can't keep coming back and putting you in danger. So, for now, at least until the Shigaraki is dealt with, please just be safe. Don’t try and find me, and please don't let anyone else know I was here."

He paused, his eyes glancing towards the window.

"Actually, I might come back just to get rid of that lock. I mean, seriously, I barely even touched it, and it came right off. You could easily replace it with something stronger, maybe one of those new locks that only respond to fingerprints! But, then it can be traced back to you, and they can use you to— oh, man, I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

You didn't bother to respond. Instead, you leaned up, pressing your lips against his cheek.

Midoriya's entire face went bright red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

You could feel your face burning, but it was worth it to see his reaction.

"Be careful," you said. "Please, Izu, don’t be stupid."

"R-Right."

He stumbled a bit, his hand coming up to touch the spot where your lips were. His eyes flickered back to you, and you swore you saw him blushing, but then he turned, heading towards the window.

"Oh, uhm, b-by the way," he said, reaching the window. He placed his hand on the frame, glancing back at you. "For Aizawa's essay, you have to also analyze the strengths and weaknesses, not just the evolution of quirks. Make sure to read the whole paragraph in that book he gave us at the beginning of the semester."

He gave you one last smile, pulling the mask over his mouth and the hood over his head. You looked in befuddlement as he stepped out onto the roof, and your hands were wrapped around the edges of the open window.

"How did you—"

"It's Aizawa," His mask was muffling his voice, so he lifted it up a bit, and his eyes twinkled. "What else do you expect from him?"

And then he jumped.

He let the mask drop back down and became just another shadow in the night, with his green lightning trailing behind him.

You didn’t have the energy to laugh, and you didn't have the heart.

You leaned against the windowsill, letting the cool night air wash over your face. You sighed, watching the clouds drift in the sky.

"You're still an idiot," you whispered, closing your eyes.

When the sun rises, this encounter will only be a distant memory.

But for now, the cold night was enough to convince you otherwise. For now, his green eyes were staring up at the same night sky, and he was thinking of you, too.

That kiss on the cheek, as tame as it was, was still enough to make his head spin. You were still his friend, his not-alone buddy, and nothing was going to change that.

And you both were okay with that.

[bellaveux]

BETWEEN THE PAGES | wanda maximoff x fem!reader

genre: college au! fluff, smut

summary: professor maximoff asks you out on a date.

content warnings: MINORS DNI! fluff, smut, college au!, unspecified age gap, professor!wanda, student!reader, bit of alcohol consumption, smut; service top!wanda, power bottom!reader kinda, making out, marking, fingering and oral (r! receiving), overstimulation, little bit of a praise kink

word count: 9.5k

note: i’ve been meaning to write another professor!wanda and black cat!reader fic so wrote this as kind of a prequel to AFTER CLASS but it’s long overdue lol. i hope u like it!

You always came to class early. That was the first thing she noticed about you. But, there was something about the way you entered her lecture hall for the first time, sitting just a few rows away from her desk, close enough for her to see you without anyone getting in the way. It was something about you that was so endearing. She just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was about you that made her stomach flutter and her heart beat faster than it typically does. Usually dressed in a skirt that gracefully swayed with each step and a cozy sweater that hugged your figure, you never failed to greet her with a shy smile each day you entered the room, and each time she swooned. Too cute. It was like that for the first few months: watching the door patiently to see when you would walk in, stealing glances your way when you were seated in front of her as she taught, or occasionally looking over the book she was reading while you were taking a test, reading a book, or working on notes. She couldn’t help it. It also didn’t help that you were not only beautiful but smart, too. Every test, assignment, and project she had given out, you nailed them with ease, almost like you'd already mastered the subject prior to her teachings. Perfect was what you were. She thought about it every day.

As each day passed, Wanda always looked forward to the days when you would enter her class. And she wasn’t trying to be a creep about it in any way, but she couldn’t help but look… and wonder. She wondered about what you were like outside of her class, if you were just as reserved and quiet as you were in here or if you were bubbly and talked a lot, and what your voice sounded like. You were quiet. And it wasn’t a quality that she didn’t like at all; in fact, it only made her more intrigued, like you were a mystery that she wanted to solve. In the quiet moments, when the world slowed down, her thoughts would invariably drift to you—your earnest gaze, your subtle smiles, the way your eyes seemed to light up the room.

But despite the elation of her thoughts of you, she makes sure to remind herself why you were here in the first place: you were her student. And for your professor to have such thoughts about one of her students, it was wrong. She knew this from the beginning. But try as she might to suppress her emotions, Wanda found herself captivated by your presence anyway.

And she really tried, to be fair. She tried to ignore her thoughts of you in her head, but she could only do so much. In the end, she couldn’t resist asking you to meet her after class during her office hours. She’d try multiple times to find the most credible excuse to get you to stay, and usually, she’d opt for subjects regarding your work and even ask you if you were interested in being a teacher’s assistant. Who in their right mind would decline that offer? You’d get paid on top of being alone in the same room with your favorite professor—the, despite her intimidating looks, easygoing professor that you had been fond of since day one. In fact, everyone liked her. Most of the students thought she was hot anyway, which you had to agree on as well.

The work she had you do was simple, for the most part. Grading papers and organizing paperwork and files for her were the most common tasks she gave you. Eventually she had you read a few essays and reports, asking you to judge how well they were written. Wanda thought of it as a learning experience—to read, collect your thoughts, elaborate, and then discuss with you on that same subject. It was a little nerve-racking, to say the least, but really, you enjoyed every second you spent with this professor. Especially since she was so nice to you.

And you’d be lying if you said you had never noticed her lingering eyes on you on several occasions. Sometimes she stands behind your seat and leans over to see your assignments, and you can smell her sweet perfume and feel her breath against the top of your head. Then, you’d be lying a second time if you said it didn’t make your stomach flutter each time she got close to you.

Of course, with the quiet moments you shared together each week, you began to notice some things you'd never noticed before: how she's unable to get to work without a hot cup of tea using that old, faded, and chipped mug that the university gave her a couple years ago, how she spends an extra few minutes in her office at the end of each day because she always misplaces her ID card, or how she constantly has her nose stuck in a book—a poetry book you’d often see, when she wasn’t reading those one of those meaty, mind-bending volumes.

And as time went by, you also began to notice more and more the way she would look at you. It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to her stares. You could see clearly when her eyes would linger a little longer than necessary, occasionally catching the flicker of a smile that your professor seemed to suppress. It was as if you had developed a sixth sense for each time her demeanor shifted or her eyes would trace over you, just as she was doing now.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" You say, your voice coming out smoothly, cutting through the quietness that filled the room.

"Yes, I’m fine." Wanda cleared her throat and turned away from you, her eyes darting back to the book she was supposedly reading. "It’s, um... I’m just lost in my thoughts."

"Lost in your thoughts or lost in trying not to stare too obviously?"

Your professor’s eyebrows twitched upwards, your question pinking her cheeks as she turned the page of her book mindlessly while attempting to hide her smile. "I assure you, (Y/n). This book is… intense."

"Intense?" You rolled your eyes, not entirely convinced by her excuse, as your eyes traced the cover of her book. "Hmmm, The Book of Nature… William Wordsworth?"

Wanda skimmed through the pages of her book and cleared her throat for the second time, "It's a deep exploration of... um, philosophical concepts. Quite thought-provoking, really."

"Philosophical concepts?" You repeated with a sly smile playing lightly at your lips. "Are you sure that’s what it’s about? If I remember correctly, Wordsworth is a poet, right? And you look pretty relaxed for someone who’s reading about some intense philosophical poetry."

"Well, I think philosophical debates can be strangely soothing sometimes," she told you with a chuckle, slowly making her way out of the nervous state she was in just a moment ago.

"Really? I mean, I love poetry, but that’s quite the intellectual balance you’ve got there."

"Yeah," she breathed, her confidence seemingly flowing from her body right in front of your eyes as she used a finger to adjust the collar of her button-up. "And speaking of balance, how do you manage to keep your work in check while being so captivatingly distracting?"

The blush that paints your cheeks presents itself much more quickly than you could’ve imagined. It was adorable. Managing to turn away from her this time, you avoid her eyes as yours land back down on the papers that were set in front of you, completely forgotten while being under your professor’s gaze. You could practically feel the smile on her face as she watched your every movement. Wanda pulled her office chair closer to yours, where you had brought an extra chair up to her desk as you worked. She set her book down softly, mindlessly leaning in closer and closer to your face as her eyes kept darting between your eyes and those delicious-looking lips of yours. Her tongue dragged itself along the bottom of her lip subconsciously as she stared at you, not even hiding her intentions this time.

"You make it awfully hard to concentrate, (Y/n)," she continued as her eyes traced over the contours of your face, down to the skin of your neck as it strained slightly underneath the collar of your sweater. "I find it rather difficult to stay focused when you’re sitting in front of me."

"Um, Professor… I think we should…" With a flustered smile and stern eyes, you motioned over to the clock right by the door, notifying her that her time with you was nearly up.

Wanda only smiled before speaking again, nodding her head as she leaned back slowly to glance over to check the time, "Of course. Do carry on with your student duties, Miss (L/n)."

To be honest, it’s the first time she has heard you talk so much. Your voice was delicate and smooth, a voice that she wanted to keep hearing over and over again. Talking to you was something she wanted more of. She was quite smug, thinking about how all the rest of the students who admired you for your intelligence and work ethic didn’t get to talk with you as much as she did or spend time with you as much as she did.

A triumphant warmth spread through Wanda's chest as she turned back to read her book. Successfully making you flustered had ignited a sense of giddiness she hadn't felt in a while. But, a calm smile played on her lips, a facade she effortlessly maintained to match your demeanor, masking the happiness that bubbled within her. It’s evident throughout the days, where fragments of her infatuation for you are sprinkled into every moment you spend together. In those moments, she loved everything about you—from the way you worked and focused on your tasks, to the way your voice sounded despite not talking all that much, to the way you furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes stumbled upon something that confused you, or when your lips would curve into that pretty smile she loved to see so much.

Eventually, Wanda came to terms with her feelings rather quickly, but made no move to pursue them just yet. For you to be her lover was something that was not allowed, especially in her profession. She’d also still have to tackle the subject of whether or not you harbored even the slightest similarity about whether you had the same interest as she did for you. During moments where she would sit alone in her office or at home, she’d often let her mind drift off to the thought of you and how she would treat you if she were able to call you hers. Gifts like flowers, books, or jewelry would gladly be given as attempts to make you happy. She’d give you flowers every day if it allowed her to see that smile of yours for even just one second.

The two of you spend the rest of the semester filled with mindless flirting and grading essays, projects, and assignments, all while Wanda reads most of the time, and by reading, you mean she skims over a couple pages and spends the next few minutes admiring the beauty that is you before her. And sometimes, she lets her mind wander just as her eyes do, down to the skin of your thighs underneath those black tights, wondering how it would feel to have her hands all over your legs. She wonders how you would sound, moaning her name as you give her the sweet taste of heaven. If you hadn't been so engrossed in the activity your mind was occupied with, you'd see how her eyes latch to your frame and the way her mouth waters at the sight. It takes everything in her to keep her composure and not pull you into her private office and have her way with you.

She wants to do this correctly, of course. She wants you to want it, too. Though, it may seem like you return her advances and all the rest of her flirty remarks, she wants to make sure it’s something you are sure of.

So, she asks. And she starts by giving you a gift.

"Shakespeare?" You questioned curiously, running a finger along the spine of the book as a shy smile slowly etched its way onto your face. "I didn’t really take you for a romantic, Professor."

She had given you a gift before you were able to step away so soon from her and her class room. The book—The Sonnets by William Shakespeare—rested neatly in the palm of your hand as Wanda watched you inspect it with eager curiosity. You had mentioned your love of poetry once, and with her own collection sitting in the comfort of her own home, she decided to give you one of the books that she loved so much. It was romantic and a tad bit cliché, she’d have to admit, but to make you happy just as you did for her was the only thing she wanted from this.

Wanda brought a hand up to scratch the back of her neck, her eyes darting down to the book in your hand, "Well, I-I appreciate the beauty in romance, yes."

"Thank you for this. I’ll make sure to read it over break," you say, holding the book tightly between your chest and your arm before turning to make your way out of the door. "See you next semester."

Wanda had pondered it, thinking how long the two weeks of winter break would feel with you away from her. The weekends already felt like too long of a wait before Monday came around—the first day of each week when you stepped foot in her class. She looked forward to every day because of you and loved thinking about you on the weekends, then she’d repeat it all over again. But, two weeks. Two whole weeks without seeing that pretty face of yours or hearing that quiet, pretty voice of yours—it sounded dreadful.

"(Y/n)?" She called out to you before you could step out of her empty lecture hall. "Can you stay for a bit? I have something to ask."

She asked you out to dinner in the next few minutes after going on a quite adorable ramble about her being so enamored by you that she couldn’t help but ignore her own boundaries as your professor and ask you out on a date. She was confident but, at the same time, so anxious to hear what you had to say about it. The stare you gave her after her little speech was enough to make her want to dig a hole so deep into the earth and crawl into it so that she’d never be able to see the light of embarrassment. Wanda watched as you clutched the book she gave you tightly in your arms. By this point, she was so sure you’d turn her down given how long you were taking to answer.

Of course, when you answered, she couldn’t process it correctly for the first few seconds, but as soon as she did, her eyes lit up just as brightly as the sun on a clear day. The smile she was biting back was contagious, making you roll your eyes and smile back as she fought the urge to wrap her arms around you. And for a moment, you even thought as if you could imagine a tail wagging back and forth behind her in excitement. You both agreed on next Friday night at eight in the evening, when she would pick you up, take you out to a nice restaurant, and treat you like a queen. You deserved a lovely evening out, and Wanda couldn’t wait to share it with you.

As she went about her daily tasks leading up to that Friday, an uncontainable excitement welled up within her, and she couldn't help but steal moments to envision the evening ahead, leaning back in her office chair to imagine the upcoming night with a dreamy smile on her face, the prospect of sharing dinner and conversation with you filling her mind. Her heart raced with anticipation, wondering what you’d wear on that night, wondering how even prettier you would seem so close next to her, wondering how your hand would fit in hers, and wondering if you’d let her steal a kiss or two, or maybe, if she was lucky, even more. And god, she prayed for all of the luck to be on her side for even just one night.

When Friday came, Wanda rushed home from her office at the university to get ready before she would drive to pick you up at the address you had emailed her—she forgot to ask where you lived, but before she could ask, you had emailed her your address a couple hours earlier. She smiled at the thought, being so excited for the date that she forgot to ask one of the most important questions. Wanda settled on wearing an all-black suit, one of her favorites, and made sure to smooth out every wrinkle with a precise touch, each movement revealing the anticipation bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She knew that your choice of attire was a mystery, and her all-black ensemble was a versatile canvas, ready to complement whatever you had in mind.

But, fuck, when she saw you—God, she was just in pure awe at the sight of you.

Wanda arrived a little bit early, the anticipation of your dinner date bubbling within her. She parked her car outside of your apartment building and leaned against it, one foot casually crossing over the other. She glanced at her watch, checking the time, but her heart raced with a different kind of countdown. As the moments passed, Wanda’s excitement only grew. But when you finally emerged from the building, the sight that greeted Wanda left her speechless. The dress you wore wrapped around your frame perfectly, the silky fabric resting on your soft curves, along with a daring slit that ran up your thigh, revealing a glimpse of your leg with each step you took, and it drove her absolutely crazy. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as she gazed at you; the sight of your shy smile made her heart race even faster.

Fuck, she wanted to say. And for a moment, she struggled to find her words, but not less than a second later, she managed to regain her composure, a smitten grin forming on her lips, "You look beautiful, (Y/n)."

"Thank you, Professor," you replied, smiling innocently up into her eyes in a way that drove her insane. "You’re looking pretty amazing as well."

Wanda couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement at your compliment, but she was still spellbound by the stunning vision before her. She offered her arm to you and walked with you towards the car, opening the car door for you. But, she couldn't shake the image of that tantalizing slit in your dress; the glimpse of your leg driving her senses into overdrive.

Throughout the night, Wanda found it nearly impossible to tear her gaze away from that slit in your dress. The subtle but alluring glimpse of your skin had cast a spell on her, igniting a fire of desire and fascination that she struggled to contain. Each moment she spent with you, Wanda's mind wandered, and she’d stumble on her words as she spoke, all because of her thoughts returning again and again to the sight that had driven her senses wild earlier. She couldn't help but steal glances at that tantalizing slit in your dress whenever you shifted or crossed your legs, her heart racing each time her eyes traced the path upward. And every now and then, you would catch Wanda's lingering gaze, a knowing smile playing on your lips. You seemed to relish the effect your attire had on your professor, your confidence growing as the evening progressed.

The date was going splendidly, with you and Wanda engaging in lively conversations, sharing stories, and relishing each other's company. You laughed together, savored delicious meals, and exchanged meaningful glances that hinted at your growing connection. Both of you were having a great time, enjoying the chemistry and camaraderie that seemed to come so naturally. However, your dress, still with its tantalizing slit, had become a magnetic force that Wanda found impossible to resist. It was as if her mind had been spellbound, repeatedly drawn back to that alluring detail with every glance in your direction. While you spoke passionately about your love for literature and your dreams, Wanda tried her best to maintain eye contact and stay engaged in the conversation. But time and again, her gaze would wander, trailing along the path of that tempting slit.

She stared all night, wondering what it would feel like to run her fingertips against your soft skin, wondering how you’d look when you slip out of your dress slowly, wondering how you’d sound—and the precious imagery alone caused all higher brain function to abandon her.

As the night continued, Wanda couldn't help but feel overwhelming happiness. Your presence was intoxicating, and your smile was a beacon that lit up the evening. It was a feeling she had longed for—the joy of being in the company of someone who not only understood her intellectually but also stirred something deeper within her. You were perfect. So perfect. She wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wanda was proud to have even come this far with you and wondered if you’d allow her the chance to take you out for a second time. She would be glad, too. God, she prayed you’d want to.

Dinner ended sooner than both of you would have liked. Wanda found herself lost in the sight of you the whole night, wishing she could linger in the moment a little while longer. And the idea of taking you home felt like an interruption to a masterpiece still in progress. She held your hand as she walked with you slowly down the path back to her car, which was parked a few ways away for this very reason.

But there was one thing Wanda couldn’t get off of her mind as she led you inside her car and started the drive back to your apartment—your lips. She wanted so badly, more than anything, to kiss you. Those lips that had been speaking to her for the entire night—she wanted to taste them and feel them against hers. With every passing streetlight, the desire to lean over and capture your lips at every red light only grew stronger. Her heart raced, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel every time she thought about it. The desire to taste the sweetness of your lips was undeniable. Yet, she hesitated. The night had been so perfect, and she didn't want to rush things.

"Thank you for tonight, Professor," you softly as soon as the car came to a slow stop in front of your building. "I had a wonderful time."

"Well, it’s not every day I get to have dinner with someone as beautiful as you," Wanda said, turning her head to face you as her hand gripped the steering wheel.

"You really know how to lay it on thick, don't you, Professor?" You rolled your eyes, trying to fight back the laugh that almost spilled from your mouth.

Wanda grinned from ear to ear and glanced at the street in front of her for only a moment, "I mean, only when it’s the truth—"

Mid-sentence, just as Wanda spoke, you leaned in and planted a soft, sweet kiss on her cheek, maybe a tad bit close to the corner of her lips. It was a sudden, tender gesture that caught Wanda completely off guard, making her grip tighten around the gear shift of the car. Then, you gently place your soft hand on top of hers, causing her vision to go hazy with clouds of lust, devotion, and affection. You don’t miss the way her ears turned red as you pulled away from her face.

Eventually, Wanda found her voice, though it was tinged with surprise as she stammered out, "Well, that was... unexpected."

In her mind, truthfully, she wanted to ask you to do it again and again and again. Maybe she’d ask for you to kiss her lips next time, but she’d never let you go off to do anything else.

"I think you’re too much of a flatterer," you chuckled softly, your fingers gently tracing the outline of Wanda's hand on the center console. "Do you say that to all of your students, Professor?"

Still slightly stunned from the tiny kiss, Wanda turned to face you. Her usual composure had been momentarily shattered by the feeling of your lips against her skin, and she met your eyes with a genuine, heartfelt sincerity, "No… just you."

The words slipped out of her mouth, unfiltered and genuine, carrying with them the depth of her feelings. In that moment, Wanda realized that her attraction to you was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. It wasn't just casual flirting with someone who she thought was pretty, as she did in the beginning; it was something deeper, something that had taken her by surprise the longer she had gotten to know you. Wanda's heart continued to race as she watched your playful expression soften, replaced by a warm and genuine smile.

"Do you want to come in, Professor?"

Wanda, still feeling the electrifying effects of the way your lips felt, faltered once more. The idea of spending more time with you was undeniably tempting, but she knew that if she continued this evening further, it would require every ounce of her self-control. Her hands ached to touch you, to run them along your waist and hips, and she longed to press her lips against yours over and over again. The dress you wore was not much help either; her eyes were always glancing down to that slit that showed off the soft skin of your leg. In her mind, a hundred affirmations echoed, each one urging her to say yes. So, she did.

You led her towards your apartment, hand in hand, walking down the softly lit halls of the building in a happy, expectant silence. Although she tried to hide it, Wanda could feel her own excitement building to an almost unbearable level. Her heart raced, and her breaths came a touch quicker as you led her to your place, the feeling of your hand in hers setting her skin on fire. When you reached the door, you fumbled for your keys with one hand, your other still firmly clasped with Wanda's. Your movements were deliberate, yet there was an undeniable excitement radiating from you, a subtle telltale sign that you, too, were looking forward to what lay ahead.

A sense of comfort washed over Wanda as she stepped inside, the atmosphere of your warm apartment enveloping her as she followed you in. She watched your hips as you walked in front of her, her cheeks and ears reddening at the sight once more. Your space was also thoughtfully decorated, exuding a lived-in charm that made it feel like home.

"I’m sorry about the mess. It’s usually tidier, I promise," you tell her, placing your bag gently on the counter in the kitchen before turning back to look at her. "I honestly wasn’t planning on inviting you in yet, but… I don’t know; I guess I couldn’t help myself."

Wanda, however, didn't seem the least bit bothered. Her warm smile remained unwavering, and she looked around with genuine appreciation. She swallowed the lump in her throat, her hands now stuffed into the pockets of her pants, coolly leaning against the wall, "No, I don’t mind it. And it’s not messy at all. It’s a lovely home."

Her eyes roamed over your cozy living room with its soft, inviting couch, adorned with a few well-placed cushions. The warm glow of dimmed lamps bathed the room in a soft, comforting light. Bookshelves lined one wall, their shelves cradling an eclectic collection of literature, each book seeming to hold a story of its own. The scent of a vanilla-scented candle lingered in the air. It was a cozy, lived-in scent that made Wanda feel instantly at ease—a reflection of you and everything you loved. And on your coffee table, amidst your own collection of books, she saw the one she had given you. It lay there, open and well-loved, with pages slightly ruffled and a bookmark placed near the end. In no way would Wanda have minded the mess at all, not when she was surrounded by the tokens of you and your life.

"I’m almost done with it," Wanda heard you say as she looked around your apartment. "The sonnets are really beautiful. I think I’m enjoying it better than his plays."

The professor raised an eyebrow at your claim, "Bold statement, (Y/n)… But I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

You smiled at her as you moved to get two glasses and a bottle of wine that you’ve been saving for special occasions, and this was definitely one of them. But when you turned to look back at Wanda, her gaze, once warm and affectionate, had intensified with desire and lust as she watched you pour the wine into the glasses. Her eyes held an unmistakable hunger, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world, and it didn't go unnoticed. Wanda's stare was so intense and filled with longing that it seemed to sear through you like a fiery caress. It made your heart race, and your breaths quickened as you tried to maintain your composure. With that look in your eye, you knew this night was about to get even more special.

"What are you thinking so hard about over there, Professor?" You asked with a smirk that made Wanda weak in her knees.

Wanda shook her head and bit her lip, her cheeks reddening at the topic of her own thoughts. She made her way towards you as you slowly lifted the wine glass to your lips. And although you were occasionally flustered by her intense gaze, you had a reputation for your own brand of composed charm. Wanda approached the counter where the wine glasses were placed, her fingers lightly caressing the stem of a glass as she lifted it herself. Her movements were fluid and sensual, drawing your attention like a moth to a flame. But this time, when she turned to face you, she found herself locked in a gaze that mirrored her own desire. Your eyes held a magnetic allure, an intensity that matched Wanda's in every way—your look was a silent challenge, a dare to see who would break first.

You brought the wineglass to your lips, and the woman in front of you watched with a heightened sense of awareness, her gaze locked onto the way your lips delicately touched the rim of the glass. Your soft and inviting lips seemed to beckon Wanda like an irresistible temptation. They glistened with the remnants of the wine, and a thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to taste those lips and feel their softness against her own. She wondered how your lips would feel, how they would respond to her touch, and how you’d moan into her mouth. And she couldn’t get her mind off of it.

"Professor," you spoke, setting your glass down on the counter before stepping close in front of her. "I think… you’re thinking too much."

Wanda’s anticipation was palpable, and she held her breath as you closed the distance between the two of you, her heart pounding in her chest. As you stood so close, your breaths nearly mingling, you sensed that she was still overthinking the moment. And finally, in a bold move, your hands reached out, gently tugging on her suit jacket, pulling her even closer. The touch was electrifying, sending a shiver down her spine as your lips met hers in a deep kiss. Wanda's breath caught in her throat as your lips met hers, and she melted into the kiss with a soft groan, moaning at the sweetness of your lips that she had been waiting all night to feel.

You led her to your bedroom with your lips never leaving hers and your arm around her neck while your other hand pulled her jacket roughly off her shoulders. A laugh bubbles against your mouth as you trip over the rug on the way to your room, but Wanda catches you with a chuckle, her hands at your waist holding you against her. Your lips fit so perfectly against hers, and the taste of you on her tongue unlocked all of the desires she had been trying to keep at bay. All she could think about was you. Mere seconds have gone by when your back finally meets the soft comfort of your bed, all while Wanda explores your mouth with her tongue. She indulges herself in the taste of you and tugs desperately at your dress, just as you tried to undo her belt, albeit poorly. The gasp you let out when Wanda moved her head down to your neck, sucking, licking, and nipping at your sensitive skin, distracted you from your current task, leaving her belt loosely unbuckled.

"Mmh, Professor…" Your bedroom was painted with your needy moans and Wanda’s soft grunts as she pressed herself against you, your body pressed in between her and the mattress.

"Wanda," she murmured into your neck, leaving marks on your skin as her mouth explored. "You can call me Wanda… Please."

You smiled and ran your hand through her hair, urging her to look at you and bring her face close to yours just for you to say her name in the sultriest way that made the woman in front of you physically stutter, "Wanda."

Wanda swallows the lump in her throat, dazed as she watches your lips as you spoke out her name. She parted her lips, unaware of the hazy look in her eyes as she stared at you. Dragging her tongue over her bottom lip, she subconsciously leaned in to press another kiss to your sweet mouth, but you cupped her face with a soft yet commanding touch before she could close the distance. Wanda's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing as your gentle fingers caressed her skin. She felt a shiver run down her spine as your touch lingered, trailing slowly from her face, down her neck, and over her collarbone. Your hands moved with deliberate tenderness, unbuttoning the rest of her shirt one button at a time.

And she could only watch; her eyes locked onto your hands as if they were the most mesmerizing thing in the world. Your movements were slow, each button releasing its hold on the fabric with a soft, tantalizing pop. Wanda, lost in the sensations of your touch, was in a daze once again. Her eyes remained fixed on your hands, watching as they worked their way down, unbuttoning her shirt one by one. Your fingers brushed against her skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. With the last button undone, you gently slid Wanda's shirt off her shoulders, and it slipped down her arms, a whisper of fabric gliding to the floor. You couldn’t help but smile at her, hovering over you with a black bra on, her pants unbuckled, and her hair tousled from all of the making out. God, was she beautiful.

And Wanda thought the same thing about you, if not more. You still had your dress on, and the way you spread your legs a bit so she could settle comfortably on top of you did nothing but make her feral. Wanda’s mouth practically watered at the sight of your exposed skin. With a gentle and curious hand, her fingers danced along the skin of your leg, slipping under that same tantalizing slit that had been teasing her the whole night. She kissed your chest as she did so, but with the way you were squirming underneath her, Wanda couldn’t get the thought of your hot, naked, trampling body out of her head. And she could feel it—fuck, that lacy underwear you were wearing—as if you had planned this all along. It was driving her absolutely insane.

"You can take my clothes off for me," you whispered lowly into her ear, and for a moment, Wanda froze at your words.

Soon enough, her hands started pulling roughly at every piece of fabric she could get her hands on. She needed to see you. She was going to lose it if she didn’t see you. And despite how rough her hands were, Wanda carefully slipped the dress off of your body, undoing its zipper in a way you almost didn’t notice. But all caution was thrown out the window when Wanda finally laid eyes on your half-naked body. It was black lace underwear that you were sporting, and all she could think about was how stunning you looked. She sat there for a while, frozen and heated, her eyes raking over every inch of your body. To think that you were wearing this underneath that goddamn dress this whole time, god, it makes her absolutely exasperated with desire.

"I’m getting a bit cold here, Professor," you smirk, your fingers trailing up her pants, finally meeting her undone belt once again. "Warm me up a little?"

"Yes ma’am," Wanda breathed out and nodded, her hand ghosting over your skin once more as you opened your arms and urged her to come closer—the sight causing her to melt and a question she didn’t even think twice about spilling from her mouth. "Can I fuck you? Please?"

Almost immediately, Wanda leaned down and pressed her face against your body, littering soft and hot kisses along your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, your collarbones, and to your neck. She would lick, suck, and kiss all over again, marking your skin with the prettiest bruises. You almost forget to answer her question when she starts kissing you, but she pleaded once more. To let her do whatever she wanted, just say the word, and she’ll make sure to make you feel so fucking good.

"Please," she begged you, whining only slightly as she kissed your neck. "Please, (Y/n). Please—I'll do anything, I—"

"Touch me there," you said, slipping your hand into hers to lead it down to your warm, clothed center. "Right there, Wanda."

You let her fingers press against the fabric, feeling how undeniably soaked you were. Without a second thought, Wanda immediately circles your clothed pussy with the pads of her fingers, just getting lost in the feeling of your wet heat. Her jaw slowly drops as she watches her own fingers play with your cunt. She pressed even harder the moment she finds your clit underneath the thin fabric and when you moaned, arching your back slightly in the process, she lost all self-control. You don’t even get a second to catch your breath as Wanda immediately starts clawing at your underwear, pulling your bra off of your chest in the quickest way possible. And, when she moved her hands back to your panties to uncover the very treasure she was yearning for, you suddenly heard an unmistakable sound—the sound of fabric tearing.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as Wanda stared at the torn piece of underwear in her hands, "Did you just—"

"I’m sorry." Then she kissed you to give you something else to think about other than the fact that she just ripped your precious, laced underwear.

"You ripped—"

She kissed you again, murmuring against your lips, "I’m sorry, baby."

"That was expensive, you know. I just got it last week," you said, rolling your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck as she continued to kiss your skin all over again. And it was working—when you felt her lips kissing you and sucking on you, you could barely think about anything else.

The corner of Wanda’s lips turned upward at the thought of you buying lingerie just for her, "I said, I’m sorry. I’ll get you another one, I promise… But, right now, I really want to fuck you. I want to fuck you until you can't move. Let me make you feel better, baby? Please."

Wanda's plea hung in the air, her voice a desperate whisper filled with desire. When she turned to look back at you, she did so with an intensity that made your heart race even faster. Already blushing from the heat of the moment, you felt your cheeks grow even hotter and hotter. Your gaze locked onto Wanda's lidded eyes, and you could see clear as day the raw need inside of them.

Your lips parted, and a deep, crimson blush spread across your cheeks. With a soft voice, almost breathless, you finally gave in, "You’re lucky I like you, Professor."

You were going to say more, but you couldn’t help the gasp that fell from your lips when Wanda dips two fingers into your pussy without any warning. She could feel you tense up around her waist, and your hands moved to grip her biceps as she started pumping into you at a slow pace, easing her way up to a faster one. Wanda’s jaw dropped once again, moaning as she felt just how tight, warm, and wet you were around her fingers. She could feel every sliver of you, your spongy walls wrapping around her digits, and you gasping right into her ear. God, it was so perfect. You are so perfect. She could fuck you like this forever.

"Does that feel good?" she asked, looking up at you with lidded eyes while her fingers continued to make their way in and out, in and out.

"Yes, right there," you nod quickly, moaning in her ear as your grip on her arms got tighter, trying to hold on for dear life as Wanda gradually got faster and faster. "You feel so good inside of me, Wanda. So good—ah!"

The woman reveled in your praise, unable to hold back her own moans as she watched her fingers, glistening with your slick, sink deeper and deeper.

"You’re sucking my fingers in, baby." And you truly were. Her fingers are buried deep in your pussy, and almost immediately, she finds that weak, spongy spot inside of you and begins to torture that button. With your moans getting pounder and louder, she penetrates deep against it, groaning into your neck as she listens to the music of your moans and whimpers.

After a moment of getting lost in the heavenly sounds that were spilling from your mouth, Wanda pulls your leg over to your chest, pumping her fingers in and out at a much faster pace than before. With her digits accelerating in speed, your body jolts and your moans go up an octave as Wanda continued to fuck her fingers into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, feeling her press against that sweet spot inside your pussy over and over again, building up to the climax she had been working diligently to witness. And finally, the band holding you together finally breaks, your body succumbing to one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life. Wetness pools all over her hand, and your pussy clenches tightly around her fingers. Wanda melts at the sight of your trembling body and shaky legs as your hands grip onto her biceps even harder, trying to hold on as she helped you ride out your climax.

When you calmed down, legs trembling against her, Wanda carefully pulled her fingers out of you with a squelch. She stared down in awe at your wetness, glistening all over her fingers and dripping down her hand. With her lips parted and eyes glued, you could not help but smile as you were catching your breath, still a bit hazy from the orgasm she had just given you. When you felt like the professor was taking a bit longer than expected, you reached down and gently brought her hand close to your face, her eyes following as you did so. And when you opened your mouth, you dragged your tongue slowly over the length of her fingers, and all Wanda had the strength to do was watch.

"Fuck," Wanda breathed out as you licked her hand clean of your essence.

You pulled Wanda in by the neck to kiss her, and she groaned into your mouth when she tasted your juices on your tongue—the taste of how good she made you feel. After pulling away to catch your breath once more, Wanda made her way back down again, leaving kisses along your skin as she traveled to the heavenly space between your gorgeous legs. And with mere inches away, she could smell you, smell the taste of you, and it lingered on her tongue, only making her yearn for more. The scent of you floods her senses, and she leans in with lidded eyes, lost in the thought of having you come right into her mouth. God, she wanted it—she needed it.

She was so close—her mouth was so close. You were right there, all ready in her mind for the grand meal she was about to indulge herself in. And with a soft but firm hand holding her head back by her hair, you stopped her.

"Not yet," you told her, shaking your head slightly as your fingers threaded through her hair.

"What?" Wanda gives you another dazed look, confused and almost frustrated with the fact that you interrupted her on her way to a heavenly meal.

"Not yet," you repeated once again, louder and clearer, with a more demanding tone. "I want you to watch me."

With her eyebrows raising in surprise, Wanda wondered what it was you had in store for her, "Watch you?"

With a teasing smile, you took your hand off of Wanda’s head, slowly dragging your fingers against the inside of your thigh, then in between, the soft pads of your fingers meeting your clit. There was nothing else Wanda could keep her eyes on except the way you pressed softly onto your clit, with another moan slipping out. Your clit was wet and slippery, coated with your juices. You could feel her heavy breath against your pussy, just centimeters away from her face, and all Wanda could do was stare. The sound of your quiet whimpers filled her ears, and it took everything inside Wanda not to dive in, face first, into your heavenly heat.

You must’ve known. You must’ve known what you were doing; keeping her desperate and begging while also checking if she’d be good and obey. And although it was hard to keep away, Wanda followed your orders and watched. With her eyes stuck to that precious button you were torturing all by yourself, she couldn’t help but pant slightly, like an obedient dog waiting for its signal to start eating.

Soon, you were getting close all over again, and Wanda was disappointed that it was not her doing. Although your moans and whimpers were more than enough to fuel her desires, waiting to touch you almost became unbearable, but she remained still, her eyes still glued to your pretty pussy as you touched yourself.

"Let me—Let me touch you," Wanda pleaded, unable to take her eyes off of the way you were rubbing your fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. "Please, let me help."

"N-Not yet," you said again, your body writhing more and more as each second passed.

With a groan, Wanda dropped her head down against the plush, inside part of your thighs, holding you down as you chased your own high. She kept watching with her mouth open as she resisted each and every urge in her body that told her to ignore your order and just jump right in, but she held herself back. She didn’t even know how, but she knew that once you allowed her, you’d reward her with the best meal and orgasm you could ever give her.

And just as you were about to hit your peak, you let one word slip, "Now."

Wanda finally opened her mouth and let her tongue fall. Her jaw drops as she lets her tongue travel from the bottom to the top, dragging it through your folds and swirling it messily around your clit. The taste of you was as blissful as angels singing in her mouth, as if her tastebuds had been blessed by the gods themselves. Your cries and moans rested well on Wanda’s ears, doing nothing to stop her from eating you out so fervently. A pleasured groan fell from Wanda’s muffled mouth as you tugged harshly at her hair, Her breath was hot, and your pussy had you squirming beneath her. It was heaven for Wanda. God, she’d give everything if it meant being able to live the rest of her days down here, with her head between your legs and your pussy in her mouth. She’d be set for life.

Your poor clit was already so sensitive, and Wanda was lapping at you like a thirsty dog. Your precious brain couldn’t even focus anymore, and all you could think about was Wanda’s tongue. And because of how close you were just before she started, your orgasm started to build higher and higher in a matter of seconds. Her mouth showed no remorse, and the lewd noises only made you flush deeper. With her thighs squeezing her head between your thighs, Wanda devoured you, holding you still with ease despite your constant squirming. Then, she wrapped her mouth around your clit, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, and sucked, until she had you screaming her name into the air as you came inside of her mouth.

And yet, she doesn’t stop.

"W-Wanda, I—"

"Not yet," she said, voice muffled as she continued to fuck you through your orgasm, her tongue swirling and licking every crevice in and out of your sex.

Your words die in your mouth, and you let out a squeal as she buries her tongue right into your pussy all over again, licking and swirling it inside of you as you whined about how it was too much for you to handle. But, she kept going anyway. And fuck, you felt incredible wrapped around her tongue; it drove Wanda insane. Your body was hot, trembling at the mercy of her touch, screaming out as Wanda continued to overstimulate you. She was now far from being gentle. How could she? When you had been teasing her all through the night with that slit in your dress and those eyes that were begging her to do something? Occasionally, she’d open her eyes to see you arching your back, screaming into the pillow, and it made Wanda moan against your pussy, the vibrations doing more to stimulate you.

With her eyes glued to your body as your legs tensed around her head and your stomach clenched as you moaned, Wanda whined and pushed herself further into you. Her hands were now spreading your folds open as she dragged her tongue up and down your fold before wrapping around your clit once more. Even when you finally gushed inside her mouth, she kept going, even with your entire body enveloped in shivers, as she savored each and every drop of your essence.

"I think–It’s too much—" you tried to say.

But, she just hit you with the same words all over again, "Not yet."

And she’d make you come a third time, then a fourth, then a fifth—until you couldn’t take it anymore. By the end of all of it, Wanda goes back up to your face, her heart racing faster as she sees your tear-stained cheeks and a lazy smile on your face as you try to look at her. She wipes them clean with her thumb and kisses them with her lips, using her other hand to calm your trembling body by running it along your quivering legs.

You reach out for her with a whimper, trying to grab hold of her, begging for her care as she soothes your body. Wanda smiles and re-kisses each bruise she left on you, all the way up until she makes it to your mouth. She kisses you softly and gently, and you can taste yourself right on her tongue. Nuzzling your face into her neck, Wanda pulls your body to lay on top of her, securing a tight and comforting hold on you as you began your drift to sleep.

It’s everything Wanda could have ever wanted—to be with you. It was perfect. You were perfect.

"You did so good, Wanda," you said sleepily into her skin, muffled as you spoke. "So good for me."

"I think I should be the one saying that, (Y/n)," she replied with a proud smile as she ran her hand through your hair. Eventually, her hand rested on your cheek, soothing her thumb over your skin as you began to let your eyes flutter closed at her soothing touch. "You are… so beautiful, darling… So perfect."

You almost fall asleep after a few seconds. Her touches, the feeling of her breathing, and the way her skin felt was everything you ever wanted and more. Wanda laid there with the same thought in her head, her heart filled with an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. As she gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, she couldn't imagine a more perfect moment.

“I have something for you,” you say, voice rasp and groggy as you moved reach something from the drawer of your side table. “It’s nothing special… it’s just… you keep losing your card, so..”

You couldn't help but feel a touch of nervousness. You had spent hours searching for the perfect gift, wanting to express you affection for Wanda in a meaningful way. Yet, when you were finally about to give it to her, you couldn't help but feel a bit shy about its simplicity.

But then, Wanda's eyes lit up with curiosity as she accepted the small box and carefully opened it. Inside, she found a cute red lanyard with a playful pattern, and her heart swelled with affection. She held it delicately in her hands, her fingers gently tracing the tiny pattern that adorned the fabric. It was a simple yet thoughtful gift, and she couldn't help but feel a rush of affection for you for choosing it.

Your shyness melted away, replaced by a radiant smile, as you watched Wanda’s joy. You couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth, knowing that your gift had brought a smile to the professor’s face.

Wanda turned towards you, her eyes soft with emotion and her heart full. She reached out and gently cupped your cheek with her hand, her thumb tenderly brushing against your skin. With a sweet and sincere smile, Wanda leaned in slowly, her lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. Your lips met like two puzzle pieces finally fitting together, and for that moment, the world seemed to fade away.

“It’s perfect,” Wanda says, unable to suppress the way her lips curved upward. “Thank you.”

Then, each day as you arrived for class, your heart couldn't help but skip a beat when you saw Wanda. What caught your attention immediately was the sight of the red lanyard that Wanda wore around her neck. It didn't matter if Wanda's outfit matched the lanyard or not; it was always there, a constant presence, and a sweet reminder of the thoughtful gift you had given her. On some days, it stood out vividly against Wanda's attire, a burst of color that added charm to her ensemble. On others, it contrasted playfully, a delightful pop of red against more subdued colors. But in any case, it was always there.

Over the next few weeks, You and Wanda found yourselves in a whirlwind of newfound affection and stolen moments. In the classroom, your glances became a language of your own. Wanda would catch your eye from across the room, and a playful yet affectionate smile would curve both yours and her lips. It was as if you shared an inside joke, one that no one else in the class could comprehend. As the days went by, their desire for each other grew. They were days off of stolen kisses, lingering glances, and shared smiles that only you could fully understand.

One day, in the middle of a lecture, Wanda couldn't resist the urge any longer. She discreetly slipped out of her seat and gently tugged at your hand, pulling you slightly behind and into a closet at the back of the room, out of sight from her classmates' curious eyes. With a mischievous smile and a twinkle in her eye, Wanda leaned in and pressed her lips against yours. It was soft and tender, a tantalizing taste of their affection that left both of you breathless. The classroom continued with the lecture, seemingly oblivious to the hidden exchange.

Yet, for Wanda, those stolen kisses were like sweet secrets shared only between the two of you.

— navigation!

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Hiding the rest of this HUGE comic behind a readmore for ur sanity

Hes got the keenest eye for these things!

Now that this is hiding behind a readmore i can justify writing an essay in here. Nothing big tho i am just very chatty :)!

Postgame where Peppino still gets visits every now and again from the bosses of the tower. I already drew one for the noise (lmao) but i wanted to draw each of the main four interacting with him in some way.

Pepperman is a refined and well renowned artist. His art is highly sought after and his advice is not taken lightly. He has many MANY fortunes to pull from to make his visions a reality and to influence anyone to do anything. Except for Peppino.

From the very first fight, Pepperman is immediately, overwhelmingly obsessed with this stout little brawler. He is much much more than what meets the eyes. He is initially extremely offput and annoyed that a human so boldly decided to waltz into his domain, and he expects to be able to steamroll and bully this…beast…out of his place of work. He is refined when he wants to be, but he is quick to use his brute strength to get what he wants if only bc he knows he can do it

And so when he decides to fully charge and thrash this little trembling human, expecting him to skitter away the second he gets struck, he is completely unprepared for when he gets launched to the other end of this room. The human looks so incredibly PISSED, like a bull seeing red, and suddenly this little altercation suddenly became a real actual ‘knock your teeth out’ brawl. This human is only like half his height, but his punches and bashes fucking knock the wind out of him.

And like ! To add insult to injury!!! After he wins the fight! He visibly deflates, the adrenaline seemingly wearing off. Hes just this trembling fuckin whelp again !!! Whimpering as he fucking runs back out through the portal to do god knows what. And Pepperman could not be any more fucking intrigued. Like this no name came in, whooped his fuckin ass, and went about his day. Its unreal

While Peppino is running around climbing the tower, Pepperman is in his room losing his mind. Hes obsessed. No one has challenged him in this way. No one has fought him and WON. He is ALWAYS able to bully people into submission either through brute force or with money, and he got his ass handed to him !! He needs to know more. Its quite literally consuming him.

Cut to the final fight, set up for a rematch; and he knows he is going to get steamrolled again but it is SO exhilarating to get another chance to see this humans form up close again. This time he can try to commit everything to memory. Its all such a blur though, and in a quarter of the time it took to end their first fight, its over. He gets to watch the human fight the gunslinger with his bare hands, no gun necessary, and he doesnt even bat an eye at what looks to be a clone of himself. He is a force of nature tearing through every single defense, and when Pepperman watches the actual final fight with the bizarre little pizza man, its like hes caught in a movie. The rain, the storm, the atmosphere. He wishes he could burn the entire scene into his mind.

So when everything returns to normal, he takes the time to travel for days to come and find this little human named Peppino. The memory is still strong and vivid but eventually, details will start to slip his mind. He needs to find this human, convince him to sit and do some still life sessions with him to help cement the humans appearance in his head. He hasnt had to resort to…asking for permission for anything in a loooong time…he bullies people into doing what he wants but Peppino is not your average person, and if he wants something from this man, he’ll have to meet him at his level.

He...can make an exception for Peppino...he supposes.