#The Order imagine

[unholly-reader]

Missus Duke - Hamish Duke x fem!reader

A/N:

Welcome lovely people, here comes another piece about our favorite werewolf acolyte! Hope you enjoy <3

As always, bear in mind English is not my first language.

This one is a bit longer so be warned! Lots of emotional crap and fluffy bits with a teeny, tiny hint at some freaky action.

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Walking inside the den Beatrice wasn’t sure what to expect. The sole fact that her fiancé was a werewolf baffled her as to how he could have kept this a secret from her but then again she has been doing the same thing in regard to her being a member of the Order. Still, the trust they have established over the years they’ve been together began to falter as she entered the old house, where the Knights established their lair. She’s been there before, but briefly and still unaware of the werewolf company she has kept for the past few years. Entering the building now was more of a venture into the unknown rather than visiting an old friend. Righty of the bat she heard Randall and Lilith frantically discussing something but at first she wasn’t able to make out the exact words. Only when she entered the living room still unnoticed, she registered three words that made her freeze in place. 

- Hamish got hurt. 

Suddenly nothing else mattered as she quickly approached the two Knights, immediately grabbing their attention. 

- What do you mean “Hamish got hurt”? What happened? Was he attacked? 

Both Lilith and Randall turned around in a blink of an eye, the girl still holding her phone on speaker with Jack’s name clearly visible on the screen. The pair standing before seemingly lost their ability to speak and unsurprisingly the person to reply to her question was none other than mister Morton. 

- ��Is that Beatrice? What are you doing there?

- Apparently saving the day. You take care of your things, I got this covered. 

Before he could even answer, Beatrice hung up on him, focusing on the two standing in front of her, still unsure how to react. 

- Bea, what do you mean? And what are you doing here? Hamish is not here so… - started Randall but didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence as Beatrice interrupted him midsentence. 

- Cut the bullshit, Randall. I know you’re werewolves and I know Hamish is one too. I need to know what happened to him and where he is now?

Although Randall was utterly shocked hearing Bea’s words, Lilith was quicker to shoot back as she stood tall, raising her head a bit to look properly at the taller woman. 

- And how do you know about werewolves anyway, Beatrice? I don’t think they teach about lycanthropy in law school. 

As she realised there was no hiding the truth now, she rubbed her temple and gripped her hips staring the black-haired girl down. 

- You really are smarter than you look, miss Bathory. As you’re clearly implying, yes – I am a member of the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose, but right now that doesn’t matter. I need to know where Hamish is and how badly he got hurt. 

Lilith’s eyes glowed silver as her fangs revealed themselves. That was Timber acting up only fuelled by his champion’s hatred for the entire Order. 

- You don’t belong here. Your place is back with the Order, all of you psychotic lunatics. You want to know how he got hurt? One of your idiot disciples stabbed him in broad daylight. In human form. 

Before Beatrice could truly understand Lilith’s words, the doors opened wide and through then entered the universities mascot stumbling badly on its legs. The Timber Wolf took off its head and revealed a hurting Hamish beneath. 

-  A little help here? 

Immediately Lilith calmed down and all three of them rushed to Hamish. Bea was the first one to get to him, quickly grabbing his arm and swinging it over her shoulders. Randall came to his other side, mimicking Beatrice’ actions.

- Did you ditch them? – asked Lilith, leading her friend inside.

- For now. 

Hamish stared at the both of them and then took a second look as he realised the person holding his right arm was his fiancée who had no reason to be in the den. Most definitely she should not have seen him like that. 

- Bea? 

The brunette didn’t acknowledge his question as she and Randall led the hurt man to the couch where they gently laid him down. 

- Where did they get you? – asked Randall as he and Lilith both helped their leader out of the upper part of the wolf costume, while Beatrice stood back staring at the blood covering her fiancé’s shirt. 

They could have killed him.

- Right here – said Hamish, gasping out while lifting his shirt over his right side and revealing a nasty stab wound infested with greenish foam oozing out of the cut. Once the odour hit Lilith and Randall, they immediately felt heir breakfast coming back up their throats. 

- Jesus, this smells even worse than it looks – exclaimed Lilith, hiding her nose in her arm similarly to Randall who already presented with a gag reflex. 

- It’s like if vomit and sulphur had a baby – added Randall, covering his mouth with his hand. 

Beatrice quickly regained her focus as she concentrated on the still bleeding wound gaping in Hamish’s side. Carelessly she pushed Lilith away, taking her place next to the blonde and quietly examining the cut. The girl growled at the older woman, but she didn’t pay any attention to the protesting werewolf as she rolled up the sleeves of her dark green jacket and looked up to meet her lover’s stare. 

- It’s okay. I’ve got you now – whispered Beatrice gently with a hint of apology in her voice.

Bea reached inside her university bag and grabbed her engraved knife with confidence subsequently slicing her hand open. Hamish was baffled observing his fiancée’s every movement, too stunned and in too much pain to utter a single word. Bea carefully placed her uninjured palm over his wound and brought the bleeding one to her mouth as she muttered the correct incantation. 

- Restituattur. 

Suddenly, Hamish felt the pain disappear and all that was left of it was a nasty memory and blood covering his skin. He looked down at his side and there was no signs of his injury. Beatrice quietly retreated, standing up while throwing her knife back in her bag. All three Knights marvelled over her work as Randall poked at Hamish’s skin in the exact place where the stab wound gaped just seconds before. 

- Okay, but seriously, this is some cool shit, Trixie – said Randall amused and astounded at the same time, turning his head to Beatrice, who was wrapping the cut on her palm with some tissue she found in the pockets of her jacket. 

- Not all magic is bad, Randall. Sometimes it’s really helpful. 

Hamish looked up at her as he stood on his own two feet, still clad in the pants and boot sof the Timber Wolves mascot. There were so many thoughts running through his mind, but the one reoccurring over and over again was the lie. 

She lied to me.

He was painfully aware that those skills did not come to the members of the Order with ease so it was only logical to assume she’s been a practitioner for a longer period of time, which meant she has been lying to him for years. There were now words that came to him at that moment except what he actually wanted to say despite her deception. 

- You saved my life – he stated simply, staring at her without as much as a blink.

Beatrice felt the guilt running through her veins, still trying to remember he lied to her just as much, but the guilt trip was about something other than keeping their societies a secret for all those years. Her disciples attacked the love of her life. If she wasn’t there, Hamish might not have made it out alive. The sheer thought of losing him was the most terrifying thing she’s felt in a very long time. She gulped quietly, squeezing her still bleeding hand never taking her eyes off of Hamish’s blue orbs staring at her shamefully. 

- I couldn’t let you die – said Beatrice like it was the purest truth in the world. 

Silence fell over the room as the two Knights witnessing this unusual lover’s quarrel stood quietly waiting for the grand finale. That is until Lilith decided that her rage was more demanding than she could manage and so Timber took over the reins, growling at the intruder. 

- Yet it was your idiot wizard who almost killed him. 

- You have no idea what you’re talking about Lilith, so I suggest you stay out of this. 

- Why don’t I give you a taste of your own medicine, you bitch.

What happened next was an insane chain of events, one following the other and all in the matter of thirty seconds. Lilith launched herself at Beatrice who was completely defenceless without her knife as she watched the werewolf girl jump at her. Those few seconds when Hamish watched Lilith attack his fiancé felt like hours when he battled between his integrity and his love for Beatrice. There wasn’t much time to waste on logical thinking or reasons why he should do this or that, but in the end the heart won. Swiftly as the lightning hits the ground Hamish ran ahead, jumping in front of Beatrice and throwing Lilith into the couch he occupied just seconds before. His eyes glowed like silver strikes as he growled viciously at his wolf sister standing before Bea like a human shield. She barely noticed his actions as she awaited the impact but when she saw his back in front of her and his arms spread out in a protective manner a part of her felt some sort of relief. He was still her Hamish. 

- That’s enough, Lilith. Stand down. 

His voice was powerful and strong. He sounded like a leader should. Calm and collected but still firm. Beatrice peeked over his shoulders and saw Lilith slowly rising from the couch, eyes still shining with silver. The girl was clearly fuming with anger but the hide inside her heard his command and obeyed.

- She’s one of them Hamish. How can you defend her?

- She’s my fiancée. She has just saved my life. We have bigger concerns on our hands. We must deal with Kyle and his little death squad first. 

Bea furrowed her eyebrows shocked to hear Kyle’s name mentioned as the one leading the attack. 

- That moron? 

***

After Midnight returned to his locker following Kyle’s unfortunate death at the hands of Gabrielle Dupres, the Knights returned to the Den for the traditional après-kill drink. Hamish sipped on the red liquor swimming in his glass as his thoughts kept running back to his fiancée. Now that he knew the whole truth about Beatrice Stone a war has started between his heart and mind, both equally convincing and both screaming in his head. Even as they toasted their victory, he was clearly someplace else and his loss in thought did not go unnoticed by his comrades. 

- You okay, Hambone? – asked Randall. 

Hamish raised his eyes to the brown-haired boy nodding his head silently. Lilith glanced at Randall knowingly as they simultaneously grabbed one of his arms and slowly dragged him upstairs. Once they reached the couch the sat the man down, took the drink out of his hand despite his loud protest. 

- Excuse you, I need that glass. 

- You need to spill, Hamish. You’ve been staring into nothing like Grinch on Christmas Day – explained Randall, crossing his arms over his torso – Now talk, mister. 

- There is nothing to talk about, Randall. Now give me that drink – denied Hamish, reaching out for the crystal glass in his friend’s hand.

- Don’t bullshit us – intervened Lilith, taking the glass in her own hands and putting it back on the bar before turning to face him again – You were stabbed, almost died, found out your fiancée is a member of the Order and all of that in the span of what, two hours? 

- Wow, thank you for summing up this fiasco in one sentence. That really helps – said Hamish, huffing. 

- We just want to help you – replied strongly Randall, sitting next to his leader – We both know how much you love her. You literally talk about her every single day. What was it you said the other day after those negronis? “Bea is the butter to my bread, the breath to my life”. This is still the same woman, Hamish. 

- Yes, but this one has been lying to me for the better part of our relationship. Hell, she may have been lying to me from the very beginning. I’m not sure if I really know her or is it just the pretty picture she sold me over the years. Is her name really Beatrice? Does she really like cats better than dogs? Does she really like my drinks?

- Hold your horses there, my friend – said Randall calmly, patting his arm gently – We met her too. She was real. She is real. I think she may have even liked me. What I know for sure is that she loves you.  

Hamish turned his head to face Randall, suddenly so grateful for his goofy demeanour and never-ending positive attitude. 

- I really hope you’re right, dude. Because I know I am in love with her. I can’t even try to hate her, which is kind of frustrating. 

- You should go talk to her. 

This time it was Lilith still looking down at the heartbroken man. Hamish furrowed his eyebrows as he shot her a glance of surprise. 

- Weren’t you the one who tried to rip her throat out just today?

The black-haired girl shook her, rolling her eyes back. 

- I am still not a fan of the witch and her magic buddies, but she came through for you. She saved you and you didn’t hesitate to jump to her rescue. It’s clear as day you mean to each enough to look past your mistakes. 

Apparently, Lilith’s speech was all that Hamish needed to get up and run out without a second thought. He grabbed his phone and car keys on the way and quickly left the Den, leaving his two comrades grinning like idiots. 

- We should start a couple’s therapy clinic, cause we’re damn good at this shit – exclaimed Randall, downing the rest of his drink in one gulp.

***

The ride to their apartment in Norwich felt agonizingly slow as he drove past the red lights and other cars, impatient to get to the building. Upon arrival he didn’t even bother with parking his black BMW properly, instead just carelessly left the car in the middle of the private parking place and ran out to the door. As usual he was greeted with a polite “good evening, Mr Duke” but he was too busy running to the elevator to acknowledge the kind security guard. The elevator seemed to be taking forever to get down so instead he chose to sprint seven storeys up to get to their shared apartment, praying Beatrice was there. Without thinking twice, he pushed the door open and entered the dimly lit flat. 

- Beatrice? Are you here? 

The living room connected with the kitchen and the mini bar they had installed for his alcoholic beverage’s construction was quite dark except for two dim lamps on the underside of the kitchen cupboards, but the main source of light was their bedroom. It was also the room from which Hamish clearly heard hangers ruffling in the closet. Quickly he made his way to the bedroom and found Beatrice fishing out her clothes from the closet and chucking them inside the giant suitcase which laid open on the neatly made bed. Hamish felt a pin in his heart, seeing his fiancée moving out of their apartment and out of his life. 

- Bea, stop it – said Hamish firmly, grabbing the woman’s attention. 

Beatrice turned around with two hangers in her hands, tear stains covering her cheeks. She froze in place as she gripped the hangers in her palms. On one of them hung the satin red dress she wore to the dinner, when he proposed to her just a few months prior. Just seeing the dress brought a wave of memories to the both of them. Hamish looked into her glassy blue eyes, unsure of his own words and actions, but certain of his feelings. 

- I still remember how you took my breath away when I first saw you in that dress. I swore I could marry you right there and then.

His voice was just above whisper, but she heard him clearly. She swallowed her tears, feeling a corner of her mouth rise involuntarily. 

- I had to pinch your arm because you stood still like a deer in headlights – chuckled Beatrice, remembering the day as if they just lived it. 

Hamish smiled fondly at the memory, never taking his eyes of her blue orbs glossy with new coming tears. 

- I was certain you were the woman I would call mine for the rest of my life. 

- I knew you were the love of my life. 

Silence fell on the two lovers as they stared at each other unsure what comes next. They both lied to the person they love most. They both did it to protect the other. Was it reason enough to accept living a lie for four years?

- You can’t leave, Bea. I won’t let you – stated Hamish, slowly approaching his fiancée. 

- Hamish, I lied to you – said Beatrice with a shaky voice – I have been lying to you from the beginning. I have been doing the Order’s bidding, my sister’s bidding and now Coventry’s. I could basically become the new Temple Magus in Washington if I didn’t refuse it because I couldn’t leave you. I am so deep inside the Order sometimes the only thing keeping me sane in my life is you. I am a pathological liar, Hamish. 

- I lied too. I have been a Knight for the past eight years. I’ve led the Knights for the past six years. I’ve attacked and defended and did some thing I’m not proud either, even if I believe in the cause we serve. 

- Your pack literally hates my guts.

- The Order is hunting werewolves down. 

- I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt because the Order, Hamish. 

- I can’t imagine my life without you, Beatrice. 

The honesty in his tone was almost murderous. She felt his words crawling down her skin as she tried with all her will not to fall apart and into his arms the second he touched her. When he finally did place his hands on the hangers and took them out of her palms, she seemed to have lost her balance for a second. Carefully he placed her dresses back in the closet, brushing against her arm only to return to his previous spot standing before her and looking into her eyes. Beatrice tilted her head up as he was a bit taller, barely standing his intense gaze. 

- The Order is your enemy. Werewolves and practitioners are enemies.  

- Are you my enemy?

Beatrice sucked in her next breath as she felt his hand reach for her own gently intertwining their fingers. She couldn’t look away as if his gaze was a magnetic force and she couldn’t overpower it. With his free hand he slowly reached to her cheek wiping away the fresh tear that fell down her eyelashes. Her whole body was trembling beneath his touch just like she always did when he was this close. His scent was driving her crazy, muting her senses and blinding the reason she always followed. It was only after a few moments of undisturbed silence that she spoke up, giving up all her will power to the love she knew was stronger than anything she has ever witnessed in her life. 

- You own my heart and my soul, Hamish. I could never knowingly stand against you. 

Beatrice barely got to finish her sentence before Hamish crashed their lips together, habitually wrapping his arms tightly around her form and pushing her flush against him. An uncontrollable moan escaped her mouth as she melted right into his embrace, entangling her fingers in his silky hair. They were used to messy kisses, those filled with lust and passion and always ending in their bed or other less comfortable places in their apartment, but this was different. The urgency in their movement, hungry lips learning each other like it was the first time, greedy hands trailing invisible paths down their bodies. The act itself felt less like a physical form of dealing with the recent events, but like the final stage of accepting who they are as individuals and who they become as one body, one mind and one soul. When breath came to call they broke apart, but never left each other’s embrace, resting their foreheads against one another. Both were breathing heavily, chest heaving up and down at an astounding pace but all that didn’t matter when they knew they had each other despite everything that happened and will happen in the future. 

Hamish could hear Bea’s heart beating like a hummingbird locked in a golden cage. He felt the way she shifted in his arms, trying to get even closer than she already was. Suddenly everything was back to normal. She was his, he was hers. The Order didn’t matter. The Knights didn’t matter. In the silence they exchanged wordless vows promising to protect the love they found in the chaos of their lives. Truth was simple and in plain sight. There was no life for Hamish without Beatrice and there was no life for Beatrice without Hamish. Not even their allegiance to enemy societies could tear them apart. 

- We’re going to figure it out. I don’t know how or how long it will take but there’s one thing I am certain about. You are my life, Bea. I don’t care what anybody else says, you’re the one thing I can’t live my life without. 

Beatrice looked up, catching his longing gaze with her teary eyes. She could see all that he didn’t say but felt within. All the love, the adoration, the promise of life by her side. 

- And I can’t live without you. I can’t breathe without you. To hell with the Order, to hell with Coventry. If I have you, nothing else matters. I love you, Hamish. More than anything. More than life. 

The blonde man gently squeezed her sides, bringing her impossibly close as he pecked her lips quickly, but fiercely. He had this bewildered look on his face as if suddenly he swallowed all the energy in the world and was just ready to release it all back like a supernova. 

- You have no idea how happy I am that you said that. But all things aside, your magic? That was incredible! I can’t even wrap my head around it. You must teach me sometimes. 

Beatrice laughed out gleefully, wrapping her arms tightly around Hamish’s neck, gently nudging his nose with her own. 

- A Knight of Saint Christopher’s willingly asking to be taught magic? Dear God, a true miracle. 

Hamish smiled wildly, staring lovingly at the woman in his arms. All the emotions he felt flying through his mind, he could barely register them all. The happiness, the hope, the overwhelming joy, the relief all flooded him at once, buy unlike before he felt more at peace than ever. Instead of a hurricane he was standing in the soft rain in the middle of summer. Gently he released Beatrice from his grip, turning towards the bed, where the half-filled suitcase laid wide open. Without a word he reached for the clothes already inside and started unpacking it. 

- Since you’re not going anywhere, I believe these belong back in the closet. 

- But only if I am the one to put them away – agreed Beatrice, taking the clothes from her fiancé’s hands – If you start putting my clothes back in, I will never be able to find anything again, so move aside, Mister Duke. 

- If you say so, Missus Duke – replied Hamish cheekily, relinquishing his grip on the hangers. 

Beatrice turned rapidly to face him, almost dropping the dress she was hanging back in the closet. She raised her eyebrows at him bewildered by the name. 

- What did you say?

- If you say so, Missus Duke. 

The sheer tone of his voice, so sultry and alluring made her weak at the knees. Trying to shake off the effect he clearly had on her, Bea turned back to hang the dress she was holding, when she heard the suitcase gently hit the floor beside the bed. The next thing she knew Hamish had his arms around her middle, standing right behind her with his chest lightly touching her back. Every place his fingers touched her body felt like electricity running over her skin as he gently slid his palms beneath the white flowy shirt she was wearing, running invisible traces over her stomach and ribs. He felt her shaking under his hands and smiled wickedly, proud of how she reacted to his even smallest actions. 

- I don’t see a wedding ring in my left hand yet, Mister Duke – whispered Beatrice, leaning into Hamish as his hands roamed freely over her skin. 

- A small technical issue I will see to first thing tomorrow – purred Hamish, tracing her neckline with his nose – But right now we have more pressing matters to attend to. 

***

Beatrice heaved heavily as she laid her head over Hamish’s bare chest regaining her breath after the last few hours they spent in their bedroom. 

- Now I understand why you never got tired. Werewolf durability.

Hamish laughed heartily, wrapping hir arms around her body and kissing her temple gently. 

- Darling, believe me. The werewolf part is just a small particle of my endurance. Mostly it’s the fact that my future wife is the sexiest woman on planet Earth, and I can’t control myself around her. 

Bea raised her eyes, looking up at a very smug looking Hamish grinning like an idiot. She propped herself on her elbow, resting her free hand flat on his chest. 

- Say it again. 

- What?

Beatrice shook her head quickly pecking his lips. 

- You know what. 

Suddenly his gaze softened as he expertly tucked a rouge whisp of her chocolate hair behind her ear. For a moment he remained silenced as he admired her flushed cheeks and sparkling blue irises looking back at him with so much love and adoration he could burst. Gently, he cupped her face, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb never breaking eye contact. 

-  My future wife.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

New Chapter ~ H.D.

A/n: Finally getting more requests out!! Six left :)

Request: “Hamish falling for the reader (male, if thats okay?) who has just been chosen by one of the pelts, and being terrified of losing him because of what happened with Cassie?? Maybe Randall pushes him into confessing by threatening to ask him out himself? (I love a chaotic good wingman )” by anon

MASTERLIST

It had been a long time coming.

Hamish knew what was going on with him. He knew what that feeling in his chest was when he looked at Y/n. He knew why his fingers twitched when Y/n had a hair out of place, or something smeared on his face. He knew why he tended to lean into Y/n, like he was magnetic, and why he protected him more than anyone else. Why he listened to Y/n talk about things that Hamish otherwise found incredibly dull and a waste of time. Why he let Y/n invade his space and do things he’d murder any of the others for doing - like making drinks with his special cups. He knew what it meant when Y/n stole a random shirt and it happened to be Hamish’s and when he wore it around, it made the poor TA unable to move or breathe or think.

If any of that wasn’t obvious enough, he gave himself away with his thoughts. The ones that took him through a day distracted because he was thinking about what Y/n was wearing, or his smile or voice or laugh or touch. The ones that excitedly counted down the seconds until Hamish could see him again. The ones that had him waking up gasping from dreams he did not want to think about... the ones that followed him in the daytime too, dreaming even with his eyes open and smiling to himself at the fantasies his stupid little mind came up and tortured him with.

Hamish knew he was in love with Y/n.

That wasn’t the problem.

Y/n was another TA, and worked for one of the math teachers - physics. They had initially bonded over people thinking their subject boring and hard and ridiculous and unnecessary. The men had exchanged so many jokes about it they’d started to wonder if the other would be able to understand their subject. So they’d done lesson plans together, and then... kept doing that, because it was a lot easier and more pleasant to do it with someone else.

Now they were friends...

But Hamish wasn’t human. Not really. He was a Knight, a wolf. He was caught in a war of magic and moral greyness. One that held either death or misery for everyone who was apart of it. He couldn’t have a relationship in this world - he had tried once, and it had failed. Now more than ever, he was surrounded with failing relationships that reminded even more that it just wouldn’t work.

And even if it did, how could he ever subject Y/n to this world? He was already stressed, even if he did talk about having adventures and becoming a hero. Even if he did like fantasy books and studied mythology lore. Even if he dreamed of more... he didn’t actually understand what he was asking for. While Y/n was busy dreaming of magic, Hamish wished he could join him. Wished he didn’t know. That he had never even looked at or touched or smelled any of it.

And yet, he’s in love with him.

So really it was inevitable.

In one way or another, Hamish expected Y/n to learn what was going on. Learn about the secrets Hamish had been hiding from him. If not the shifty behavior, perhaps the actual magical battle that happened on the porch of the den, or the fear eating demon that went around, or the wolves who had lost their memories freaking out when they heard magic, or the hundreds and hundreds of memory altering spells that began rolling in as magic got closer and closer to being exposed.

He had accounted for everything.

Except for this.

Because how could it go any other way. Right?

Hamish tried to calm his breathing. Tried to clear his mind. Tried to steady his heartbeat. He hadn’t known what to expect when today had gone oh so wrong. Alyssa’s funeral had been today, and Lilith was still trying to get back into hell as they tried to figure out what exactly to do about the whole situation. And... then there was Y/n.

He had come to the funeral mostly to support Hamish. Y/n had only met her once, and it had been brief. She was in his class and had missed a day a while back when she caught the flu. Of course, it had actually been because she was losing sleep trying to come up with a memory dust that would actually wipe the wolves’ minds so they wouldn’t be killed - but details, details right?

The point was, Y/n shouldn’t have even been there. Maybe at the funeral, but not after. Not when the wolves and magicians all gathered around the trunk a way aways from the crowd that had been dispersing. Everyone was going home, and even if they did look over they’d see a bunch of people who had been close to Alyssa gathered together over a trunk. Hamish wondered, looking back, if that was what Y/n had seen. Maybe a trunk of Alyssa’s things, being discussed over.

Whatever he saw, it worried him enough to approach. None of them noticed - they were too distracted by the way the trunk bucked, jerking as if something inside was trying to get out.

They all knew what that meant.

Unfortunately, that made no damn sense. Everyone currently in the group was already wolfed up, except Vera whose face was twisted with horror as she feared that she was about to be chosen by not just any wolf pelt, but Alpha.

It wasn’t Vera.

The chest fell onto its side, stilling for a second.

“Is everything okay over here, guys?”

Hamish watched his life turn into a horror movie in slow motion. Of all the terrible things he’d faced, watching in bullet time as the trunk exploded open and the pelt launched out from inside, swallowing a wide eyed Y/n whole - that was the worst thing Hamish had ever seen or experienced. Nothing could top this.

Thankfully most of the people were gone and Jack acted quickly, rushing Y/n into the woods and even further away from anyone who might see anything. Y/n didn’t seem to be on the attack for anyone specific, but when any of the other wolves went to stop him, Y/n would growl and his teeth would bare and they all felt a pull to obey. To kneel. To listen.

Not even Hamish had seen anyone take to Alpha so well as Y/n.

The next few days had been hectic. Catching Y/n up on the reality of life had been a lot, and with the new emotions of Alpha driving him, his usual placid nature was becoming aggravated. The more they tried to teach or place Y/n in a situation he felt out of control in, the more agitated he seem to become, reactions arranging anywhere from verbally retaliating to literally trying to bite someone’s head off.

The turn for the better had kicked off when Lilith had tried to claw her way back to Hell yet again an Y/n had been able to stop her. She may be a demon, but she had been a wolf first, and as Timber still lived on inside of her, he answered to Alpha before anything else.

It was what seemed to have pushed Alpha to find a host. Timber was trapped in Lilith until she died and if she was a demon, it meant she’d be nearly if not completely immortal. Which meant Timber would be lost forever. The wolves may not totally care about their hosts but they did care about each other - first and foremost.

A weird relationship formed between Y/n and all the other wolves because of this.

Not only did Lilith, a demon, listen to him despite all her best efforts, so did Randall. Even with his dumbest ideas and impulses were satiated by a strong word or look from Y/n. Jack’s craziest plans were paused, and with some pressure they all finally slowed down - which meant they made better plans, but no one was happy about it. Gabrielle tried to flirt to get out from under Y/n’s gaze, which seemed to sear deeply into all of their souls, but even she found her eyes averting when Y/n pressed issues and shut her attitude down, or stopped her when she was lashing out or treating someone badly.

Hamish was weak to Y/n, but the other wolves knew that wasn’t because of Alpha.

The real tragedy was that Y/n wasn’t doing it on purpose. He tried so hard all the time to not to, in fact, and cringed every time he shut down Jack or Randall, or silenced Gabrielle or brought Lilith to a stand still. He recoiled physically when Hamish would stop dead in the middle of a sentence, or how he backed down far too quickly from his team leader role the second Y/n was in the room.

He really couldn’t help it though. Not only because Alpha didn’t hesitate a second to flex his authority over everyone else in the group, but because Y/n was a very assertive person. Never in an overbearing way, but more in a mom friend way. When he spoke, people listened. When his students goofed around or did something stupid all he needed to do was shoot them a look and they’d usually calm down. It wasn’t new that Y/n walked into a room and held authority - it was a problem that he hadn’t earned the authority he had with the Knights. It’s was even by choice - Alpha’s wolf magic or whatever the fuck was forcing the other wolves to listen to Y/n, and it made him the most uncomfortable - even more uncomfortable than Gabby and Lilith who constantly bit that this was incredibly sexist.

The second turn for the better came full circle when Y/n seemed to get his impulses under control.

At first he avoided speaking or eye contact, still radiating that aura of power but containing it as best he could. This is when Hamish would take over again, working with Vera to help the rest of the group.

After that, it was that he could speak, or make eye contact, but not at the same time without triggering some Alpha power. Very quickly he learned how to do both and still not inflict his will on other people.

Then Y/n became a much better leader, making suggestions and letting his own charisma and good ideas influence others rather than influencing everyone via force. He earned his spot the right way, eventually reaching a place where he and Hamish were sort of co-leaders.

Y/n was struggling though. Even with his powers slowly getting under control, Y/n constantly beat himself up and felt horribly guilty when Lilith would freak out and Y/n was forced to use his abilities to stop her from escaping. Then kept her in a demon circle in the basement, trapped for now but ready to escape at any second.

Even with powers aside, Y/n was struggling with this new world he now had to face. He was curious, and asked lots of questions and generally seemed to enjoy it, but... that joy seemed to drain a little, more and more as bad things started to happen. Y/n had thought magic was cool until someone used it for evil, or until the ringing made him shift and kill people, or some seriously fucked up shit started to bubble up.

He struggled to wrap his head around it as they all did in the beginning, and as he battled with his dreams coming true versus realizing those dreams had only been half of the story and that there was actually a darkness to this life he had once wanted, Hamish suffered more and more. His relationships had been hopeless before, but now that was gone. Now it was so much worse, because not only was Y/n’s suffering greater and his view of the world darkened, but Hamish desperately yearned for him.

That was the thing about Y/n. He might have lost some of his vigor, but at his core he still believed that people were more inclined to be good than evil. That those who made bad decisions were just lost, and usually searching for something else entirely but had been convinced that their current way was the only way to get what they really wanted. The vampire wasn’t a sadistic killer, they just needed to eat. The Order wasn’t cruel and power hungry, they were hiding who they really were in a world they feared would reject and attack them. They felt out of control and ultimately scared - being brought to your knees wasn’t for everyone.

His compassion and mercy only made him so much more amazing in Hamish’s eyes. Y/n was a great leader, and even better when he worked closely at Hamish’s side. Randall began to joke that the two men were the Den Mother and Father, which didn’t help Hamish’s poor heart.

As things heated up and the pack got closer and closer, Randall cornered Hamish. “Okay all chaos and shit hitting the fan aside, what is wrong with you?”

Hamish blinked, looking down at the shorter man. “I’m... not sure what you mean.” He knew exactly what Randall meant. Since even before Y/n had been a wolf, Randall had been pushing Hamish to act on his feelings. This pushing had turned to shoving since Y/n had bonded with Alpha, and then escalated into full body tackling when things had regulated and turned into what it was now.

Randall rolled his eyes. “You two are perfect for each other. Why work you do anything?”

“Why won’t he?” Hamish snapped. “Why is it up to me?”

Randall immediately knew that they were getting somewhere. “He tries! He doesn’t flirt or anything, but if he even tries to joke with you, or do anything that normal friends do - if it’s not leading the pack together or doing something school related you shut down. You keep your distance like he’s trying to kill you or something.”

Hamish didn’t have anything to say to that. He just shrugged. When Randall rose an eyebrow, Hamish sighed. “Everything’s really complicated right now. Lilith is finally acting like her old self, and warming up to Y/n. I’m trying to not make it any more complicated than it is.”

Randall scoffed. “It’s always complicated, Hamish. Jack and Alyssa are the best of example that there’s no good time to do this kind of thing, and that sometimes it fails even when you try everything. I mean, look at Nicole and Lilith even, or-“ he cut off for a second, holding something back.

Hamish’s lips twitched just a little. “You and Jack?”

Suddenly Randall looked less confident. It had been a long time coming between them. After Jack had gotten his memories back, his relationship with Alyssa hadn’t been the same. It quickly seemed like he was growing more and more platonic with her, and stopped chasing her altogether. When she died, he had been heartbroken - not for his lost love, but for his lost friend. He had cared about her very differently to the day they’d met and the relationship they’d had after that. Along with that, Jack and Randall had been getting closer and closer, and Hamish was pretty sure there was something going on there.

Hamish was also sure that was why Randall wanted Y/n and Hamish to get together. Not just because he wanted to see the people he cared about happy, but because if they worked out, it meant some hope for Jack and Randall too.

It had been unfair to point out though, and they both knew it. “Feelings are hard and people are complicated, and this weird dynamic between the Order and the Knights isn’t going to get much easier - at least not in our time line. Even if we work together better eventually, there’s still too much history. Even more so with demons in the mix, and these rogue magic users trying to end the world with their pride.” He rolled his eyes, ever trying to ease tension with soft teasing and a joke or two. “It’s never going to be the right time. The right time doesn’t exist - even for normal people. Life is complicated and hard and against everyone.”

Shrugging again, Hamish brushed off the rather good argument. “It’s hard for normal people. And it’s even worse for us. More complicated, and more dangerous, and way more pointless. Don’t we have enough to worry about?”

“Don’t we have enough suffering?” Randall argued. “Haven’t we lost enough? Told ourselves no? Fought our feelings and forgiven people we didn’t want to? Why can’t you let yourself be happy? Adding more suffering into your plate by refusing to allow yourself this is just another goddamn thing that life gets over you. You’re miserable!”

A scoff shot from Hamish. They were both getting agitated, voices rising just a little as they got heated. “Haven’t we lost enough?” Hamish mocked. Not that it had been a dumb question, but that Randall had said the exact reason Hamish was so hesitant to do anything about his feelings and still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Couldn’t see the simple truth staring him directly in the face.

Before, Randall genuinely hadn’t understood what the big hold up was. As he looked at Hamish now though, it clicked. He softened. “This is about Cassie.”

Cassie.

Did Randall have to say her name? In this conversation that hit hard and cut deep, couldn’t they spare the TA and not force him to relive everything in blinding vibrance? As if the situation itself wasn’t enough. Randall sighed, frowning.

“Every once in a while, I forget.” Randall’s voice was soft. Hamish looked up at him; Randall looked back steadily. “You play cup pong to solve problems and rant about shit so nerdy I can’t even begin to wrap my brain around it. You mix drinks and have all these traditions. You seem... so unphased, by everything. Older too. You’re only a year or so older than me, but you’re just constantly oriented.” He smiled fondly, chuckling. “I always admired your ability to keep it together. To have an open mind and keep going, even when you’re so tired and done and sometimes I think you’re finally going to stop. Give up in some small way or another. And then you don’t.”

For a moment, Hamish can’t look at Randall anymore. He shakes his head. “What’s you’re point?”

“Goddamnit,” Randall sighs. “I can’t imagine what it was like to lose her. You changed so much after that... but you shouldn’t stop yourself from being happy every again.” A pause. “But hell, if you really are decided to lose him, don’t let me stop you. In fact, please give me the sign that it’s cool to make a move. The man is...” Randall tilted his head, smirking, looking off I RK the distance a bit, like he was admiring a memory instead of anything around him. “If you don’t ask him out, I’ll be happy to do it instead.”

Hamish rolled his eyes. They both knew Randall was full of shit. No matter how attractive he found Y/n, his heart was set on someone else. That didn’t stop Hamish from finding himself suddenly very willing to talk to Y/n about his feelings. The real fear had always been losing Y/n, and now a different kind of loss occurred to him.

In all his agony, Hamish had never considered losing Y/n to someone else. Not death or magic or depression or the pressure of their new life or even Alpha. Not to school or students or time or graduation or when they eventually moved onto the next thing. Hamish could lose him, right here, right now, to a pretty smile and shimmering eyes.

Just someone else.

Kicked into gear, Hamish didn’t even give Randall a response. He just shot him a glare and then huffed, turning and pulling out his phone as he began to walk toward the school. He called Y/n. “Hey are you available right now?”

“Like, right at this very second?” Y/n asked. “Um. I’m grading. But I could take a break,” Y/n added hastily. “If you needed something.” He’d been trying to leave things open ended so it was less a shit down or a command and more of a conversation. It made Hamish smile.

“Maybe not need.” Hamish knew he was stalling. That didn’t stop him from doing it though, pretending that he was considering leaving Y/n to his work even as he quickly made his way to Y/n’s form. “If you’re too busy.”

“Never too busy for you,” Y/n answered with a slight chuckle. He got a lot softer when talking to Hamish, a little lighter too. Like the sun was coming out after a cold night, or weight was being lifted off of his shoulders. Like just talking to Hamish was enough to make the burden of life a little easier to bard.

Oh boy.

Please have mercy, he silently begged, more than sure that he was about to get anything but.

“Quick, meet me at your dorm. I do need something, but if we keep it fast you can get back to it.”

Really, Y/n was almost done. He wasn’t stressed about it. He was tired from all the things he’d been keeping track of though, so he didn’t mind keeping the option to keep the hang out short in case he ran out of a social battery completely. So he didn’t tell Hamish that. “Okay, I’ll be down soon.”

Something sharp started to turn in Hamish’s stomach as he tried to not let his brain talk him out of meeting Y/n and going through with what he was about to do. The second he got to the form and saw Y/n’s smile, he thought about bolting... but then he thought about Y/n smiling at someone else. At Randall or maybe even Gabby or someone else entirely. Someone other than him. Suddenly it wasn’t hard to stay in place and approach the other TA.

They both walked toward each other, meeting in the middle. Y/n seemed a little concerned at the intense look on Hamish’s face. “You okay?” He asked gently. A part of him worried there was some horrible news once again, but he got the feeling it would have been a meeting at the Den, or a discussion for when they got together and did their grading if it had to do with the Knights of school.

“Unlikely,” Hamish joked. It fell a little flat and he shook his head, deciding to simply going for it. “Y/n, I...” he looked away, swallowing. Maybe it would have been better if Y/n ended up with someone else... and then something clicked in Hamish’s head. “Our lives are so fucking complicated. Between teaching classes and fighting the forces of evil, I feel like we can never catch a break.” Y/n chuckled and Hamish actually smiled. “But then I’m with you, and you make it all a little bit easier. It’s not complicated with you, and you help me with everything else. With anyone, for either of us, it’s going to be harder. You get what it’s like to be a TA. You know what it’s like to be a college student. What it’s like to be in on this world of magic. What it’s like to be a Knight when there’s the Order, or tourist magic users. What it’s like to be the leader of a team of idiots.” They both laughed again, but this time they were both blushing. “I was so scared to lose you. But... I am. By not acting on my feelings, by letting you pass me by. I’m losing everything - and I’d rather lose you after I’ve gotten to experience what it’s like to have you. Really have you, as mine. And me as yours. We all lose each other eventually, but maybe we can get a few years first.

Voice gone, Y/n could only stare at Hamish. His eyes were full of tears but he was smiling, his lips pressed together as he tried to hold himself together. When Hamish didn’t say anything for a while though, it was obvious that he was waiting for a response though so Y/n tried to manage it. “Are you saying that you want to try something more than what we have? Because if this is one of those ridiculously cheesy love confessions, theoretically, I would say - in this situation - that I’d maybe like to step back for a second. Maybe we could start with a date and then go from there.

Whatever fears had been holding Hamish back before disappeared and he laughed. “I would love to start with a date. Just the two of us.” He tilted his head, suddenly feeling sheepish and silly. “What did you have in mind?”

Y/n smiled. “I was about to finish my grading.” He didn’t want to go back to that nonsense now. This was so much better. “Come inside and I’ll make dinner. Maybe we could make it together, and then play a gam for watch something. Or just talk.”

Nodding, Hamish stapled closer and brushed his knuckles along Y/n’s. They both let a breath of relief out as Y/n intertwined their fingers. It seemed they had a lot to talk about after all. Hamish couldn’t wait.

“Lead the way.”

-

Male reader: @stuckoutsideofthebox @sortzz

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smut Prompt 56, with male reader and Randall please 🤩

Randall Carpio x Male!reader

The one downfall to living in a house with all of your best friends was that it gave you very little privacy when it came to your… personal activities.

You guys were walking in on each other all the damn time but while the rest of the knights could get away to their significant others homes for alone time you and Randall didn't have those kinds of options.

In desperate times you've had to resort to going out and hooking up in the woods though you have been stumbled upon a few times by joggers who thought all those noises were coming from someone being attacked by a wild animal.

You and Randall hadn't had a moment to yourselves in over three weeks and he was losing his mind, sure you were just as frustrated as he was but Randall's sex drive is so high he would literally have sex five times a day if you let him.

It's friday night and Jack insisted everyone come over for a game night so you, Randall, Hamish, Lilith, Nicole, Gabrielle, Vera and Alyssa were scattered around the living room playing games for a few hours now.

Normally Randall would be enthusiastically spearheading the games but instead he had been giving you looks all night, wanting so badly to sneak off and do anything but play games.

"I think we're out of beer," you announce in the middle of a game, "Randall, you want to help me get some more from the fridge down in the basement?"

"Sure thing babe," Randall nods, throwing his cards down on the table and hopping up to follow you to the basement.

"They're going down there to hook up right?" Jack questions as soon as you're gone.

"Oh definitely," Hamish smirks.

"They at least better bring more beer back when they're done," Lilith huffs, finishing the last of her bottle, she did in fact want another beer but she was not going to get one herself and risk seeing you two fooling around after the incident a few months ago when she walked in on you riding Randall who was handcuffed to the bed.

Down in the basement you have Randall pinned to the wobbly table you guys use as a makeshift ping pong table, lips connected as your hands eagerly wander each other's bodies.

It doesn't take long for Randall to get a boner, he's practically had one 24/7 for the last three weeks and boy is he ready to finally get off to something besides his own hand, you may not have had any time lately to have sex but he certainly could always find the time to jerk off.

Randall groans as you drop to your knees in front of him, haphazardly unbuckling his pants and freeing his hard cock.

"Try to stay quiet understand?" You say looking up at him and he nods again, biting his lip to stifle the moans he wants to make as you gently kiss along his shaft.

Wasting no time you take him in your mouth, you figured your friends probably knew what you were really doing down here but you didn't want them to interrupt the one moment of privacy you finally get to have with Randall complaining about your boyfriend being too loud which has happened many times before.

Randall is biting down so hard on his bottom lip he tastes a slight tinge of blood but he ignores it as you expertly bob your head along his cock.

Fuck he could cum right now just from the way you're sucking him off but he really needs you inside him.

"Y/N, I need you to fuck me," he pleas.

You release him from your lips and get back to your feet, turning him around and quickly shrugging down your pants, Randall gasping the moment he feels your cock press against his ass.

You bend Randall over the table that you hope is stable enough to handle the weight and slip your cock inside, Randall clasping his hand over his mouth to prevent a loud moan from escaping.

There's no time for foreplay, literally and figuratively speaking as your friends are waiting for new drinks and neither you or Randall can wait any longer for an orgasm so you find a steady pace, thrusting into Randall with the intentions of cumming as fast as you could.

You'd make it up to him by taking your time and eating his ass for an hour or two some other day.

Muffled grunts are coming from Randall as you pound into him and with his free hand he reaches down to stroke himself.

In just a couple minutes he's cumming, spurting out all over the floor.

"Oh fuck," he groans and with a few more thrusts you hit your own climax, pulling out of Randall to let your cum join his on the floor.

"Fuck that felt good," you chuckle, looking for something to clean up the mess you two made.

Randall finds an old towel, dropping it to the ground and using his foot to move it around to wipe up the mess, "I've been so horny Y/N, I jerked off four times this week… or was it five… no it was definitely six."

"Well maybe if you're lucky everyone will be too buzzed after another round of beers to notice us sneak upstairs," you grin, kissing him chastely.

"Better yet, let's convince Hamish to break out his expensive whisky to make sure they get drunk," he suggests when you hear the basement door opening.

"Are you guys done banging out your sexual frustration yet we need more beer!" Gabrielle yells from the top of the stairs.

"We were not having sex!" Randall yells back thinking he could cover your tracks.

"We could hear the ping pong table hitting the wall genius you're not that sneaky," she quips.

"Hamish! Where do you keep the tequila?!" Randall states already needing to get away from your friends.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"

just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible

[egophiliac]

doylist explanation for why Gidel is only in Fellow's non-idle lesson animations: probably something about space constraints and making sure two sprites in one seat aren't covering anyone else when they're not in focus

watsonian explanation for why Gidel is only in Fellow's non-idle lesson animations: he snuck in and is hiding from the teachers, don't give him away 🤫

(I've reached my limit of unsuccessful attempts at pulling them before I need to save keys for Halloween, so I've been living vicariously through youtube videos...but the fact that Gidel just pops up from under the desk to wave his arms around happily is really testing my resolve. D: I'm gonna die when they finally get to do alchemy...)

[hinamie]

9 / 266

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[swampybogg]

[splatloafbud]

acht.... why are u like this,,, i wanna put them in a salad spinner

[stealingpotatoes]

in another universe, cal kestis and caleb dume/kanan jarrus would’ve been best friends. and everyday i mourn what star wars took from us

YES!!! and one of those universes is my rebel survivor au which you've given me a wonderful excuse to draw more of:

(commission info // kofi support!)

[bleekay]

doodles from today cause i had a thought: water tribe dragon-blood boy who despite every attempt could not hide his true nature, and fire nation dragon-blood boy who despite every attempt could never take full dragon form

sokka maims himself in an attempt to look more human, breaking off his own horns, cutting his ears, picking at his scales, but everyone sees what he really is. the dragons were responsible for so much death and destruction and he hates being their kind, and so he runs. meanwhile, being able to embrace the dragon in him is all zuko ever wanted, his royal bloodline expecting it of him, but he fails and he fails and is humiliated, tortured, and cast out for his weakness.

on the shores they meet.

or something! :)

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

So About That ~ J.M.

A/n: Aaaaaand that leaves one request left 👀 Opening requests soon!

Request: “...jack morton x Vera son reader ( bring back the only reader I can see jack with 😂) we’re veras son knows magic but doesn’t join the order because he’s a better witch by himself ( learned that from his mom) and he started to date jack but Vera does not know and jack does not know until the reader wants to introduce jack to his mom over dinner.” By anon

MASTERLIST

Y/n really hadn’t meant to keep it all a secret. He was a pretty blunt and straight forward person, something he’d gotten from his mom. He hadn’t gotten much from her, so his fire Cracker determination, self respect, and power were things he had always been proud of.

The fact that his mom was Vera Stone just hadn’t come up with his boyfriend, the same way that Jack Morton being his boyfriend had never come up with his mom.

It wasn’t even like either of them talked about the other all that often. Vera and Jack had always had an unspoken respect for each other, and refused to accept that they also had a bit of a soft spot for the other person as well. Getting close at all, or talking, would have required them to acknowledge said unspoken soft spot, and neither of them were willing. So they didn’t even talk to other people about it.

Y/n held onto that as a reason that this wasn’t his fault.

When he’d organized a dinner for his boyfriend and mom to meet, he hadn’t known that they had all that much between them. When they’d both shown up and seen each other though, from the reactions Y/n had gotten, there was obviously some tension there. For a split second Y/n had been terrified that Vera and Jack were maybe sleeping together or something. The way they reacted, with awkwardness and avoidance, gave this very weird energy - and his mom had mentioned that she had been seeing someone. Someone younger; one of the new Knight of Saint Christopher that had joined the Order. She hadn’t wanted to talk about who though, and Y/n was completely sure that Jack would never cheat on him so he hadn’t thought for a second it even could have been possible. In that moment, he’d doubted.

But then Jack had spoken. “I thought you only had a daughter. In the memories, with the Sons of Prometheus, how did I not-?”

“Because I made sure not to think of him,” Vera responded sharply. “I didn’t want you anywhere near him.”

Y/n raised his eyebrows. “More likely you didn’t want the Sons of Prometheus anywhere near me,” he remarked, and only then did Jack and Vera remember he was still there. “My sister did die, yeah, but I didn’t. My mom doesn’t often talk about me; she has a lot of enemies and as I’m not associated with any specific society, I’m more vulnerable than most people.”

Jack seemed surprised. “So I didn’t just miss you - you’re not apart of the Order.” They were both magic users, and after running into the wolves, Y/n knew about the Knights too. Y/n had spoken to Jack about the Order first, so Jack had assumed he knew someone in it other than him. Every time he’d asked, Y/n had been vague. Now it made sense - Vera could get in trouble if it got out that her son was free lance.

“I see.” Jack’s comment was the last to be said for a few minutes. The awkwardness was suddenly so thick and choking that even Y/n didn’t know what to do to combat it. Usually he had a way of calming intensities and grounding people. Directing things in a functional way that leaned experienced more pleasantly.

He was at a loss now.

“So,” Y/n eased awkwardly, sheepishly smiling. “Nice macaroni, hm?” He took a large bit of his Mac N’ Cheese, nodding to his boyfriend and mother to do the same.

Vera and Jack looked at each other as if to say, This guy... Then they both smiled, unable to pretend that Y/n wasn’t the most beloved person to both of them. And when they realized they had that in common, that they both dearly loved Y/n, the tension eased.

Maybe this wouldn’t be totally terrible... just maybe.

-

Male reader tag: @stuckoutsideofthebox @sortzz

[demonic0angel]

Story Idea

Story idea where the Batfamily stumbles upon a painting that was kept away because it's considered haunted and take it home. It has reportedly caused hallucinations, dizziness, headaches and nosebleeds, unnaturally unlucky incidents, “accidental” deaths, and much, much more, whenever one is kept in someone’s home. It's one of the Team Phantom members, but I like to think it's Jazz because she's a good introduction to the ghost craziness.

However, at night, they discover why the painting is called haunted. When night falls, the painting talks and has conversation with people, just like a regular person. At first, only Jason could see it and he thought he was going crazy until Jazz was eventually able to chat with all of the Batfamily members and says that she’s actually part of a collection. A collection of 7 paintings that were all created by her little brother for their family, which also included his portrait, and they have to collect them all or the paintings will continue to wreck havoc on the mental and psychological health of everybody around them. (The only reason the Batfamily is safe is because Jazz is a less haunted painting than the others and the Batfamily are already halfway insane).

Cue ghost and spy shenanigans as the Batfamily all have to search for the 7 paintings created by D. P. Fenton, a mysterious individual who created 7 works of art and trapped his loved ones’ spirits inside of them.

Sketches of the paintings

[eulaties]

YUSHI HUANG SAVING PEI MING (BOOK 5) illustration by @/anteikovich from the official TGCF russian edition

[zephyrchama]

Resting with Belphegor

You're laying on the couch, face up with Belphegor draped over you like a weighted blanket. His breathing is steady and slow. His arms are wrapped loosely around your shoulders. His face is snuggled into your chest. It's warm and it's comfortable and it's peaceful as you scroll your D.D.D. The house is quiet. You absentmindedly run a hand up Belphegor's back while searching for new content.

Thunk.

Oops.

Belphegor stirs with a snort, inhaling a little too fast in surprise. You scramble to pick up your fallen D.D.D. and hide it between the cushions. His forehead is already turning a light shade of red, but you know demons are hardy. He'll be fine, physically speaking.

Hands grip your shoulders. Two dark and narrow slits glare at you from inches away. They would be threatening if Belphegor didn't look so pouty, his cheeks almost puffing up with anger.

"Sorry." You try not to smile while apologizing. It's a difficult task when he looks more cute than scary. "It won't happen again."

Belphegor huffs. His chin digs into your sternum but his grip on your shoulders turns weak. "You said that the last three times. I should curse you."

"But I really didn't mean to!" you insist. "I said sorry."

"Aahh, it hurts so bad." The red dot where your phone made contact with his head is hardly even visible. "Ow, I'm so badly injured. Look what you did to me."

Belphegor's acting skills have really degraded since he came out of the attic. Or maybe he's too lazy to put actual effort into it anymore.

"You want a bandage?" There might be some in the kitchen. It wouldn't do anything, though, and he would have to get up for you to treat him. You wonder if his head alone could crack your D.D.D.

"No, but I think a kiss will make it feel better."

[killakalx]

17+ content, blank blogs dnf

overstim (again. oops), begging (again! oops), light impact play, dumbification if you squint, mating press, dickie boy’s a lil mean

dick grayson is always pushing you to your limits. he says it’s his job, as your amazing and supportive boyfriend, yk? telling you how good you’re doing, how proud he is, how honored he is to call such a strong and determined woman his girlfriend. in his eyes, it’s only right that he keeps pushing you. even when you’re tired and overstimulated, feeling like you couldn’t possibly give him anything more, and he still pulls it out of you like it should be nothing.

“mm… dick,” you pout, legs trembling and barely able to remain wrapped around his torso. you keep him close, hands curled deep into his hair and whining into his ear with each agonizingly deep thrust. he pants into the shimmering skin of your neck with a hm, as if he doesn’t know he’s got you near tears. “dick- i can’t…”

“don’t be like that, baby,” he huffs, positioning a leg over his shoulder to get his cock deeper in your weeping cunt. the cry you let out has him writhing, moaning with you as another orgasm is forced out of you. his pace refuses to falter, though- and his mouth is on yours before you can beg for any mercy. “look at that, sweetheart- you can.” you’re both sticky with sweat and the sheets are disgustingly soaked, yet he’s convinced his stamina as an acrobatic vigilante should speak for your stamina as well. you’ve yet to distinguish this between a punishment or a reward, and he probably hasn’t either.

the begging, the way you cling to him- he feels needed. relied on. he can’t get enough of it. hence why he’d rather watch your sore and aching pussy continue to suck him in, all puffy and creamed out with his cum. dick grayson, fucking you into his mattress and folding you like a lawn chair. strong grip on a handful of your hair just to force your chin to your chest, making you watch as your cunt squelches around the girth of his cock; cooing at you, telling you how pretty you look, drawing out all those cute noises- and he wouldn't have you looking any other way, just for him.

and just to embarrass you, he's waiting on you to string together words other than your pathetic pleas of his name. "what is it, doll? just talk to me," he teases, "c’mon- look at me while i fuck you, baby." he knows damn well you're fucked beyond words and comprehension and he uses it like the evil motherfuker he is, leaning until his chest meets yours and pulling out another one of those pretty whines. fixing your gaze to look up at him is the last thing on your mind, and your cries for him hardly suffice. “you hear me, sweetheart?”

“dick- oh my god, dick, please…” you’re babbling now, bleary-eyes losing focus as you give up on clinging to him and you aren’t even sure what you’re begging for. his poor girl, so fucked out on his cock and he doesn’t even consider being nicer.

“don’t even know what you want,” dick grunts, little slaps against your cheek seemingly meant to bring you back. they’re gentle but firm, making your eyes shoot back open when his hand grabs your face before you drift back off. “d’you even know what i said? tell me.” and all you can give him is a slurred cry of his name.

if you weren’t stuck between operational and fucked into unconsciousness, you’d tell him you’re done, that you can’t take anymore. mascara running, legs sore and trembling, arms limp behind your head rather than holding onto him. it’s at this point that you figure he just wants a pretty little sex toy to use over and over- and the realization is evident when dick flips you over without pulling out, holding your ass up and letting your upper body rest against the mattress as a courtesy.

“I can go for one more,” he assures, as if his exhaustion was the issue. if only you could give him a piece of your mind and let him know he’s getting an earful when you wake up- since there’s no doubt in either of your minds that you’re near passing out. “my poor girl, fucked all dumb on my dick. let me know when you need a break, mkay?” ❧