Bay Windows Appreciation Post. I Love Bay Windows

mehndi?

pairings: diluc, xiao, childe, neuvillette x gn!reader (separate)

content briefing: fluff, kissing, lowk jealous!xiao lol, cw//allusions to cheating in childe's (nothing happens lmao reader is just being a little silly), suggestive in childe's part, lovesick genshin men :( (neuvi omg)

a/n: idk why i got so carried away for childe... the melusines are sick and tired lmao. lowkey desi/arab coded reader but applies to any and all if you're open to the concept!

synopsis: as a sumerian diplomat to your partner's nation, times come where you have to return to your homeland when certain duties call. this time, the akademiya scribe and acting grand master (and more importantly your former classmate and good friend), had sent you a short letter requesting your presence in the city. al haitham, ever so meticulous, had noticed some inconsistencies in the liyue-sumeru trade reports and needed your assistance to rectify the issue.

your most recent visit was two months ago, when you returned with an auburn flower painted into the palm of your hand (courtesy of nilou), fascinating your boyfriend greatly. you'd forgotten about the scene, especially in your rush to pack…

so when he shyly asks if you’ll get it again…

if there’s anyone who understands the saying, “duty calls”, it's DILUC. 

that being said, it doesn’t mean he’ll miss you any less… 

his ears colour scarlet, looking away as he asks, ‘do you think you’d have time to do your mehendi this time?’

you grin, eyes crinkling fondly at the conscious effort he made to pronounce it correctly. ‘we’ll see, ‘luc.’ And that was enough consolation of your absence for him, because he’d do anything to see the enchanting art on your hands again. A compensation of sorts, he thinks to himself, miffed. Despite never having seen something like it before, it was so inexplicably you, a simple, dainty extension of your heritage that made him fall for you even more, if that was even possible. 

you open your palms to him, every space that could possibly be painted on is covered in intricate designs of mehndi. ‘there’s a surprise for you in there, if you can find it.’ he pulls off his right glove, tilting his head at you curiously. 

he holds your hands in his, with the care of handling handcrafted terracotta, and searches through the patterns, his index finger tracing along. ‘that tickles,’ you mutter, squirming as an involuntary smile pulls at your lips at his determined expression. he tightens his hold just a tad at your words. ‘is that better?’ he hums, smiling faintly as he continues in his ministrations. 

he stops in his tracks, his breath hitching, and if his cheeks burned anymore he was sure he’d burst into flames, rivalling his vision. there it is, his surprise, along the side of your left ring finger – his name, in beguiling cursive. you’re struck with the urge to kiss him, when he beams so brightly you’d think wedding bells are tinkling, and he buries his face in your palms, bashful. 

‘i love you,’ he says softly, voice muffled by your skin. your smile widens, endeared, leaning down to try and meet his eyes as he avoids you, pulling your hands further towards him. ‘i love you too, ‘luc.’ 

‘how long will you be gone?’ XIAO turns to look at you from his perch on the balcony, watching you pack after you’d denied his help, before dismally turning back to the moonlight. you stifle a giggle at his sulking demeanour – if he had cat ears, they’d be flat against the top of his head; wallowing in his melancholy. 

‘a week, maybe less. al haitham and i work efficiently well together so the work might be done quicker than i’m thinking,’ you answer with a small smile, absentmindedly rolling up your socks. he makes a face – a small scowl that you don’t see with his back turned to you – at the mention of the scribe. ‘why can he work with you but i can’t come with you?’ he mutters petulantly. 

‘you know how much i’d love your company, xiao,’ you tilt your head kindly, reasoning with your adorably envious boyfriend. ‘but you’re not my protector alone, you have the people of liyue to keep safe, dear adeptus.’ he huffs quietly at your point, before turning to face you again, shifting his body to sit against the rails. 

‘then…will you do something for me?’ ‘anything,’ you roll a tunic, glancing at him fondly.  

‘you know, the designs you returned with last time?’ he begins, eyes trained on your palm. ‘you mean mehndi, right? want me to get it done again?’ he nods quickly, neck turned to look away from you as it slowly flushes crimson, his ears burning. 

you return in less than a week, as promised, spending a day in leisure after your work was done to participate in recent festivities. 

‘xiao,’ you say his name, summoning him as you settle onto the edge of your shared bed at wangshu inn. he appears comically fast, looking dishevelled. ‘you’re back,’ he breathes, his smile small. 

you open your arms, and he falls into them easily, sitting beside you. ‘although, i did stay over a day longer,’ you tell him, apologetic. ‘but for good reason! different communities in sumeru celebrate their own kind of festival of lights at different times of the year. like the lantern rite in liyue.’ he perks up from the crook of your neck, curious as you continue. 

‘they were celebrating deepavali in gandharva ville, and tighnari invited me to come join them,’ you show him your hands, smiling at him. ‘as promised,’ you say gently.

his lips part, eyes trailing over every crevice of your palms and wrists, hesitantly reaching out a hand to touch, like they’d wipe away any moment. he looks up at you, wide-eyed, when he sees his name across your inner forearm, at the top of your wrist. 

‘so my protector could join me,’ you tease, grinning, before he sways forward, pressing his lips to yours before you can see his ruddy cheeks.

so when he seems so oddly happy to see you leave…

is he cheating on you?!

‘so when do you get back, milaya?’ CHILDE questions, following you around your apartment as you pack your things for your travels and stay - to him, this was normal behaviour; to you, it was his tenth question in the last three minutes. 

despite your annoyance because you're stressed, and he isn't really helping aside from tailing you like a shadow and probing you with his quizzing, your breath catches slightly at the nickname. (you could be dating for years and he'd still have that effect on you, but never to let him know because he'd never live it down.)

when you'd told childe about your sudden business trip, promising that it wouldn't take very long, you'd expected his usual lamenting and sorrow, not…him grinning at you in anticipation. does he want me to take long, you think to yourself in dismay, your inner conscience pulling a horrified face. 

‘be sure not to rush so you can take time to, you know, hang out with your friends! you must miss them – especially that girl you mentioned last time, the artist – ni-something? nilly?’ 

‘nilou.’

childe’s mind is elsewhere, for once not noting your slowly darkening mood (usually he has the countenance of a spy, mostly when it comes to your upset). the second you mentioned visiting sumeru, he remembers the last time you went, and returned with the prettiest little tattoo on your palm, refusing to let go of hour hand for hours as he traced the design.

‘is it permanent? the henna?’ he sounds adorably curious, occupied with pressing gentle kisses to the tips of your fingers. you fight back a smile, warming at the sight of his cerulean eyes on you. ‘temporary, unfortunately. i’m not that good at doing it on myself,’ and you let out the laugh you’d been holding back when he frowns, drooping visibly, before perking up when you comb your free hand through his hair, expression fond, and he flushes. 

‘maybe i could learn?’

he doesn’t know why he’s so captivated by it, but something about you being adorned in your culture was alluring. he’s going to miss you terribly, he knows, weeping and throwing himself over the chaise and wasting away his days despondently until you return, but it is a soothing comfort to wait knowing that you’ll come back with a gift, seen as such despite being adorned on you (which makes it all the more a present), so he kisses you goodbye as he sees you off at the harbour, trying not to be as dejected.

you worry your bottom lip between your teeth on the way back, a few days earlier than you’d told your boyfriend you’d return. your mind returns to how he didn’t even shed a tear at the pier – you’d expected your dramatic boyfriend to almost flood the port like last time (he really has a knack for raising your standards).

his few letters had mostly probed about your days in detail, asking what you were doing, who you met, but talking about his own few and far between, and your suspicion had only grown. you know your boyfriend is easy on the eyes, and his flirtation comes so effortlessly to him in a way that has the people of liyue swooning (he doesn’t even realise it with how engrossed he is with you). it would cause him no struggle to find someone…else – someone better?

when he meets you at the harbour to pick you up, he presses his lips to yours as fervently as he can without the millelith escorting him away for excessive pda, his hand at your nape. ‘missed you, milaya,’ he whispers into your mouth, ‘–so much.’ 

he pulls away, grinning at you, before flipping your palms in his hand, sulking when he finds them blank. he looks up to complain before his words stop in his throat, eyes falling to the nilotpala lotuses on your collarbone, extending its stems and leaves outward and down the collar of your shirt, and his gaze darkens. his hand wraps around your wrist (gentle, always so gentle), pulling you in the direction of your apartment as his free hand lifts your bags easily. 

he pulls you into your shared apartment, dropping your luggage as he locks the door, before caging you against the wall between his arms. he leans down to meet your wide eyes, and you back away a little as your stomach flips. 

he ghosts his lips over yours, peppering up your cheek before dragging down your neck, humming when he reaches your collar, tugging it down just a tad, the mehndi lotus petals curving into the dip of your skin. ‘did your friend do this one too?’ he asks absentmindedly, kissing the spot before nipping it lightly, soothing over it with a teasing grin when you tug at his hair in warning, your breathing shallow. ‘’ts pretty,’ he looks up at you, eyes hardened to cobalt and half-lidded, his lips pulled into a lazy half-smile. 

you exhale sharply – he wasn’t asking if you’d stay longer so he could meet with his paramour; he just wanted you to have time so he could see the art on you again! (he’s so obsessed with you it’s actually stupid that you’d think he could even look at anyone but you). your heart stutters at the realisation as you push his smirking face away timidly, before your mind clears. 

‘you asshole if that bruises–’

so when you get a letter from his subjects…

as the iudex of fontaine, NEUVILLETTE is a busy man, and sometimes (most of the time) the work cut out for him rises to arduous levels. the only thing that made the wearying paperwork bearable was you. you, who would quietly bring a chair and organise his papers the way he likes it, sometimes filling it yourself methodically, perfectly, if it was within your scope of knowledge. you, who would bring him macarons and pastries at random, and pull him out of his office at meal times to eat together. 

you, who would brew tea to enjoy together at moments like this, when his head throbs from a headache as he presses his forehead to his desk, and he misses you terribly. 

the bushes outside the palais mermonia have grown ears, one would think. they’ve become the commonplace meeting spot for the melusines, the small creatures clustered together in shrubbery as they secretly discuss their worry, staring up at the heavy grey clouds, threatening downpour that had been continuous for the past two days.

that brings them to today, gathered once more as they draft a letter to you. 

‘dear partner of father,

we thought it would be fit to let you know that his state is very bleak and desolate, and he is concerningly not leaving his office very often. this is not meant to worry or rush you, but do you think you could return…as soon as possible? do you know how much longer your duties will take to complete?

p.s. we know father would never expect a present from you, but from our side we humbly ask of you to return with a treat, since we know how much he loves gifts from you. 

regards and sincerely,

the fontaine melusines’

you sigh heavily, ghosting your fingertips over the patterned paper, worrying your lip in concern for your boyfriend. 

reading the letter over your shoulder (nosy), al haitham huffs, a rare smile on his face. ‘we’re on the last report, i can finish it on my own,’ he turns to face the files once more, monotone voice taking on a teasing lilt as you narrow your eyes at him. ‘are you sure?’ 

‘go ahead early, so you can get that treat of yours.’ ‘haitham!’

two days later, a knock on the door brings neuvillette’s head up from where it is surrounded by piles of files, articles and reports. ‘come in,’ he calls, weary, expecting another melusine urging him to eat. 

instead of the small, long-eared souls he’d expected to see, the door opens to you. he stands abruptly, the stacks sliding to the floor and scattering loose leafs of paper onto the floorboards. 

‘mon cœur?’ he stares at you, wide-eyed in surprise, the tips of his pointed years carmine. if it were anyone else, you’d think they weren’t happy to see you. but this is your neuvillette, and the immediate stop of rainfall as the clouds give way to clear blue out the window, and the subsequent chirping of the birds on the sills speak volumes. 

he makes haste, meeting you in the middle of his office before hesitating, and you nod gently at him. he gathers you in his arms, soft and warm against the firm planes of his hold. he cups your face in his palms, kissing you deeply, a clear message of i missed you passed into your breath and into your heart. it beats rapidly against your sternum, swelling with promise to take good care and spoil your sweet, tenderhearted boyfriend. he parts from you reluctantly, breathing your scent in and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. ‘did you have a safe journey?’ 

‘i did, i apologise for taking so long–,’ he shakes his head quickly, and you laugh lightly. ‘and since you liked it so much last time,’ you push up your sleeves, showing him your forearms. he gasps quietly, azure gaze following the tawny trail of lumidouce bells, rainbow roses and romaritime flowers drawn into the skin of your forearms and the back of your hands with artful precision, vines connecting and curling around them beautifully. his heart warms at the thoughtful gift - sumerian culture imbued with his in mind.

a rainbow spreads through the sky outside, the melusines letting out a sigh of relief, patting each other on the back for a job well done. 

kryscent '24 do not repost, translate or crosspost

animated dividers are by @cafekitsune (ilovethem sm omg, its a blessing, tysm for making them)

Wanna Buy You A Drink

(Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: It's been five months since Bob's seen his wife, and aside from Natasha he had yet to mention her to his team. He calls it privacy, she jokes it's internalised possessiveness. But tonight, with Penny's help at the Hard Deck, more than one person is in for a surprise. After all, who doesn't love a good innuendo?

A/N- Hi y'all! No TWs I think, a good few innuendos and one joke about making babies but nothing actually happens. I've been trying to finish this one for a while and am very happy with how it turned out! P.S incase y'all didn't know the Thunderbirds are the US Air Force's professional flight team that does really amazing tricks and skills and the Blue Angels are the ones for the US Navy! Both groups are so amazing to see in person and I just wanted to make a little Navy Vs. Air Force rivalry joke about them!😊 Enjoy❤️

WC- 3.8k

Main Masterlist

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He didn't know you were coming.... or so soon at least.

The last time you had spoken to your husband was a few days ago while trying to find a flight to San Diego for next month. The two of you had texted of course, and you had even gotten a few awkwardly taken selfies of the man with the sunset behind him. Neither you nor your husband enjoyed having your photo taken, so seeing him take time to step out of his usual comfort zone was always touching. Besides, you would never tell him (nor would he tell you), but there was a growing album in your phone of sneakily taken photos, though blanket holes or around house walls when the other wasn't looking. These little albums you each had "hidden" helped the burden of the distance seem less harsh, especially in the times when Bob's job kept him farther way than usual.

Despite the top secret mission he had been sent on being completed, your husband was still assigned to say in the city for an undetermined amount of time. Evidently the higher ups decided they liked how well the crew had flown and wanted to keep them together. Tired of being alone and wanting to have a little fun in the Sunny City, you decided to make an early appearance. Luckily, you had already managed to find a job in the city that was just a different branch of where you worked before. They were also kind enough to give you a two weeks leave of your own to make the move and see your husband. Your husband knew you would to join at some point, only he thought you wouldn't be getting in until late next month. So he would be very surprised in a few hours when he found you at one of the navy's top aviator hangouts that night.

It was a bar called the Hard Deck. You remembered your husband mentioning it a few times through your communications, as where him and his fellow officers liked to go after a long day. A quick google search rendered a fruitful find, and ten minutes after getting your rental car, you were on your way. It barely 5:30 by the time your reached the bar, Aviators and Civilians alike had just begun to pour through the bar doors. But by 6:00 you were sure the place would be packed. So you quickly searched for a seat, always rubbing your right thumb over your left wrist to calm your nerves. 

In the centre of the building, a beautiful older beautiful woman moved around the main bar serving drinks with ease. 'Penny' you though to yourself, remembering Bob mentioning her a few times when the bar came up. Apparently in addition to running the bar she also had close connections to the the Top Gun program herself, namely with a certain Captain who helped lead the last Mission. You smiled to yourself as you saw the sign by the bar serving a warning to those who would disrespect women or the navy. Maybe this woman could help you with your fun. When it became your turn to order you smiled at Penny...

"Hi! I was actually hoping I could send a drink to someone else if that would be alright?"

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

Bob was tired. There was no particular reason why he was tired today, he just was. Training had gone smoothly and Hangman hadn't been too much of an pain either. All and All, today had actually been one of the least stressful days since he first arrived nearly five months ago. But for some reason Bob just felt off today, he chalked it up to having not spoken to you in a few days. Speaking to you always made him feel better, even when it was only for a few minutes. And having not seen you in person for five months made him long for something from you even more.

But these last few days had been busy, and then earlier today he had tried calling, but it hadn't gone through. This didn't worry him too much as he knew you occasionally turned your phone off during days when you really needed to focus on work. Though it was unusual for you to be working so late, seeing as your time zone was a few hours ahead of his and he called at 4:30 his time. Since the call didn't go though he decide that the "secret" photo album he had of you would have to suffice for now. Neither of you liked having your photo taken, but quick images taken half under the counter and while one slept always made the other smile.

He had been so busy looking at photos he almost didn't notice the group's nightly arrival to the Hard Deck until Phoenix nudged him. Giving him that half secret smile showing she knew what he was looking at. While the rest of the group (and even Maverick to a degree) thought Bob was incapable of talking to a woman without stuttering, Tasha knew otherwise. Bob hadn't even tried to hide it when she had asked why he seemed so fond of rubbing his right thumb over his sleeved left wrist night the group met. She had done it in private, of course, and only wondered if it was a nervous habit of her new WSO. And it was a habit....only not Bob's.

It was something you had always done even before you got married, a comforting repetitive habit that both you and your husband shared. But it also held a deeper meaning as it held the symbol your love. 

When the two of you first decided to get married a few years ago you hadn't gotten rings, or at least ones you'd wear on a daily basis. Both your jobs often required plenty of hands on work, and you had both been worried about losing the rings during the day. So instead, a cheaper pair of matching rings was bought and a new tradition was made. Each of you carried the other's ring in your wallet. That way, even when far apart you could have a piece of the other with you. And when the two of you met up face to face again you'd once more exchange rings. 

But even that wasn't all.

 The pair of you had wanted something more so you had decided to get matching tattoos. They were small and identical and despite almost breaking Bob's hand holding it while getting yours (from fear of needles) the small design was now one of your greatest comforts. On the inside of each of y'all's left wrist were two small stick figures holding hands on a paper airplane. At first glance it may have seems silly to any stranger passing by. But to you and Bob it was everything. 

Bob had been the one to draw stick "You" and you had drawn stick "Bob" with his little glasses. You had also drawn the paper airplane as stickmen were the extent of Bob's artistic skills. Besides, the paper plane you believed would be funny at the time. A memorial of how you two had first met in high school, when your paper plane had accidentally collided with his face instead of your friend's desk during class one day. You hadn't even known he wanted to be a pilot until months later, but when you did learn he was quick to comment how one day he'd be more than happy to take you up in a plane, as long as your weren't the one flying it again (he didn't think his face could take it). Years later you still found it funny and Bob would sometimes catch you laughing to yourself tracing the black lines on his wrist while lying in bed. A moment of peace before you two would have been parted again. Bob didn't regret what he did for a job, and neither did you, but that didn't stop you two from wishing to be together more. 

Again Tasha nudged him, breaking Bob out of his reverie before the pair headed into the crowded bar. It was just after 6:15 and already packed. Bob knew he'd rather head home and try calling you again, but he had also promised Fanboy one more pool rematch, since Hangman had busted into their last one. Luckily, even though the bar itself was crowded, the pool tables were open.

A few minutes into the game, Hangman and Coyote went to order a round of drinks and came back talking. Apparently there was some "Gorgeous Doll" (Jake's words) sitting at the bar and the pair of aviators were arguing over who'd get the chance to "woo" her first. 

Bob wasn't paying too much attention to their conversation or very interested in finding out more about this mystery woman. As far was he was concerned not even Dolly Parton could top your beauty and Bob would openly admit that he'd had a minor(ish) crush on the country singer since he was a kid. It had even become a running joke between your families, the battle for Bob's heart between you and Dolly. 

When he'd gotten his wisdom teeth out at 17, his mother told him someone had come to see him. Poor Bob about cried upon realising it was you instead of Mrs. Parton, his "Angel Voiced Beloved". Oh how you wish his brother still had that video tape, but unfortunately it had "mysteriously vanished" after Bob had overheard his sisters mention trying to get it for the wedding video. But more fortunately, the drugs wore off and soo enough he'd come back to his senses, and since that one night you'd been the only one for him. And luckily for him, he'd been the only one for you. 

So even if he was slightly curious to see which of his friends would attempt their flirtations, or which ones would fail, for now he didn't put too much thought into it. The quicker he won the game the quicker he could try calling you again. 

Soon enough Hangman was called back over to the bar to retrieve the group's drinks and they once again settled in to continue the game. Bob was once again winning, and Javy sat aside beginning to wish he hadn't placed such a bet tonight while Tasha and Callie were already making plans in their heads for what to do with their prize money. The only ball Bob had left to hit was the eight ball, and thanks to a lucky slip on Fanboy's part, it was a shot as perfect as it was easy. 

Javy cursed under his breath while Tasha and Callie high-fived, and Rooster cheered raising his glass up almost dumping his drink on Jake's head. Fanboy hung his head in defeat while Bob just grinned. Bob wasn't a bragging man but he still did like to win...a lot. The Squad may have thought of Bob as the quiet and passive WSO, but they had yet to see how competitive he could be when challenged. They had seen plenty of dog fights in the sky, but nothing compared to the vicious chaos between the Floyd family when it came to the annual gingerbread house competition. Under that sweet smile and those large glasses hid an overly excited man-child basking in his victory. Ok... so maybe it had been a good idea to come tonight. Bob couldn't wait to call his wife and tell her about his achievement. After all she was the one who taught him to play.

A few minutes later the group of aviators had settled down again and a new game started. This time Rooster was up against Maverick himself, which always proved to be a good show, full of sneaky cheating and playful jibes. Bob was sitting by Callie and Tasha taking his share of the winnings. It was only 6:30 now and he knew his night owl of a wife wouldn't be asleep for a few more hours so he decided to watch a few more games between his friends before calling a cab home. 

Hangman and Coyote were still debating over whose turn it was to talk to the new woman at the bar. Evidently, they'd noticed her reoccurring glances towards the squad during the first game and were sure she was interested in one of them two. And to drive their beliefs further, the glances had been accompanied by a playful smirk "directed" to the two men who'd placed themselves behind an oblivious Bob as them game went on. 

It was a few minutes later Penny walk up to the Aviators carrying a drink in her hand and smirk on her face. 

"Someone sent over a drink for one you lot," she said, at once turning the entire groups' attention towards her. After all who didn't like a free drink? Usually the drinks in question were for sent for Tasha or Callie, the only two women in the whole squad, but occasionally one of the other aviators would be the recipient. No one would forget the time Ruben got a drink from a 60 something year old women in a sparkly dress. And it appeared this would be one of those times. 

With a smirk on her face she turned, setting the colorful drink down saying,

"Lieutenant Bob Floyd someone wants you to have sex on the beach."

Aside from quite humming of ice machine and the clatter of Maverick's pool stick it seemed as if all the sound has been sucked out of the Hard Deck. As if Penny's words has been some wicked spell freezing, all the group's inhabitants where stood still. A little ways away from the group, a woman sat with a growing grin on her face as she watched everything unfold. Just as Bob opened his mouth, his face now a red as his wife's lipstick, Penny delivered the final 'blow'. 

"It's double strong too, so I'd say someone really wants you to have it."

Bob looked like a fish. A really cute six foot tall fish with military issued glasses but still a fish. His eyes were wide and his mouth kept opening slightly before closing as if the words in his head were fully composed of silent letters. If one were to look into Bob's head and read his mind they'd be able read the flurry of responses and polite refusals streaming through his brain. It wasn't the first time he'd been sent a drink, but that never stopped him from going speechless when it happened. Now Bob was a married man. A very happily married man, but he still had an awful habit of getting flustered anytime showed interest in him. It was something that Y/N took special pleasure in, and there were times they went out with friends when she'd pretend she didn't know him just so she could relentlessly flirt and turn him red. To be fair he'd also done it to her a few times, but she had a habit of taking any flirting he did as a challenge. And then, while their friends fake gagged and smirked behind their backs, the night would be filled with flirty winks and innuendos until someone gave in and "agreed" to take the other to "their place".....wait a mi....

"I hope you don't mind I took the liberty of getting you a refreshment. Thought you might have deserved it after that wonderful win." 

Bob was grinning like an idiot before he even finished turning his head to the approaching voice. He didn't get out of his seat though as his head fell back to the ceiling with a hand over his face as the last of the embarrassment left him. Turning his head back to the women he smiled again as he began to laugh. He turned his body more towards her and noticed the dress she was wearing. Damn he loved that dress. It was the one she wore when they had gotten engaged. Looking at her lips she appeared to have the same lipstick on too.

"I hate you."

Words said without malice, quite the oppose actually, brought another laugh to Y/N's lips as after months apart she finally got to stand in-front of her husband. Eyes never leaving her husband's, she places a hand over her heart and gave a dramatic gasp.

"Well that is the most heartbreaking news I've ever heard darling. You see I was so impressed with your skills earlier, I was ALL set to propose. See I even got you a ring," and with that Y/N pulled her left hand back from her chest and revealed Bob's ring which had been sitting in her wallet for months now. Well, aside from almost every day when she'd fidget with it in her hands while on the phone with him or just because she missed him. And a little farther up from her palm was a small tattoo of two tiny stick people holding hands on a paper plane. In the back ground, Phoenix let out a small sound of joy of her own as she finally understood what was happening. Quickly she leaned over and explained to Callie, who also started to laugh. The rest of the aviators still stood in shock, not sure what was going on. They only knew that for some reason Bob "Blushes at the word boobies" Floyd was getting the attention of one very pretty women, apparently because he could play pool. 

Bob only stared at her hand for a moment longer before he finally stood from his chair and wrapped the woman in front of him in his arms. Spinning her around once before kissing her cheek he pulled back.

"Well, I guess I'll have to rethink my words then ma'am. In fact, I think I got a ring right here that may fit your style," he replied grinning as he pulled Y/N's ring out of his own pocket and wallet with a practiced ease done many times before. "You'll have to forgive me for not kneeling to do it now, I'll get my ass chewed out if I dirty this uniform," he joked looking down to the woman in his arms smiling back.

"It may not be typical or proper, but I certainly wouldn't want anything to happen to that lovely ass of yours....so I guess I'll accept," Y/N joked back, drawing out a few words for added affect, not really caring about the propriety of it just ecstatic to be with her other half again.

"PROPER?! I haven't seen you in five months and the first think you do is send someone to tell me you really want me to have sex on the beach. How's that's proper for ya! Not even a hello first," Bob laughed. As surprised as he was initially, he really did miss this little game of y'all's. It brought out a cheekier side of him his friends usually didn't see.

"Alrighty then," stepping back and picking up the drink in question with a smirk, Y/N raised it to her husband's eyesight, "Hello, Lieutenant Bob Floyd would you like to have sex on the beach?"

"Well I just don't know if that's something I can answer in public Mrs Floyd," he replied cheekily, still starting at his wife.

"MRS.FLOYD"

That was the collective statement from the remaining aviators as the couple was finally brought out of their own little world. Turing to face the company Bob stood with his arm around Y/N's waist proudly like a child at Christmas.

"Yeah, Mrs. Floyd. Been that way since I became the luckiest man on earth."

"And since I became the luckiest women. But all ah y'all are welcome to call me Y/N. Or you know... Mrs. Baby on Board. Though I guess we haven't gotten to that part yet, but, it has been five months after all."

Tasha followed, closely by Callie, was the first to approach as Rooster's pool stick fell to the table and Maverick started wacking a sputtering Jake on the back, after the latter choked on his drink with the final sentence. 

"Hi, I'm Natasha and this is Callie, callsigns Phoenix and Halo. I'm your husband's ..."

Before Natasha could even finish she was wrapped in a hug by Y/N.

"Ohh I know you!! Bobbie talks about you all the time! You're Black Widow! It's so nice to meet you!!"

"Black Widow," someone asked from the side, while Bob began to chuckle under his breath.

"Ohh right, sorry. I have a hard time with remembering names, so I like to make up helpful nicknames with Bob to remind me of who is who. Like Natasha is Black Widow because of Natasha Romanoff; and Callie is Catwoman because of Callico Cats; and there's also a Rocket Raccoon for whoever's Bradley; and I have a Peter Pan beca...."

"Yep I think they get it darling. No need to divulge all our secrets." Bob interrupted nervously, not quite wanting his team to know all his secrets yet. He'd also NEVER tell them that when you first learned about his job you'd compared him to the Thunderbirds. I mean the audacity of it all! Everyone knew the Blue Angles were superior! Those were some fighting words Bob assured you at the time. Callie and Tasha burst into grins, liking this more and more, while Y/N looked back a her husband with a fake look of innocence in her eyes. Meanwhile Penny, still with the group, wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes as Maverick gaped and Rooster got into a debate with Mickey if he was hotter than Bradley Cooper. Soon the laughter died down and Maverick stepped forward sticking out his hand.

"Well it sounds like you seem very good at giving callsigns of your own. Maybe we'll have to put you in charge of naming the new recruits Y/N. My callsign's Maverick but I'm guessing you know me as Peter Pan."

"Pleasure to meet you Maverick. I might just have to take you up in that offer. Heard a lot about you too. All of you in fact. I'm sorry for interrupting your game earlier, I've been waiting to do that for a long time. Your friend Penny was a brilliant help too." Y/N smiled and shook his hand. He had a welcoming smile that reminded her of her own father. She also sent a smile towards Penny who returned it with her own and took a step closer to Maverick. 

"No problem at all, it always nice to see couple's meeting again. I must admit the drink was a nice touch. Never seen an idea that creative yet." 

Stepping back towards her husband who put his waist around her once again, "Why thank you captain, I do suppose it's nice someone appreciates a good innuendo." Bob gave a small groan, but smiled as he buried his head into his wife's shoulder whispering how he did appreciate it and would show her how much later. Out of the corner of her eye Y/N caught a few more aviators still staring, though they seemed much less confused, now slowly settling in to of their quiet friend being married. "Though I believe there's a few more introduction left as well," She mentioned as she stepped towards the remaining group and shot a mischievous grin towards her husband, asking him a question without words.

"Oh just do it, they're gonna know eventually I guess," Bob laughed and looked at his wife with an equally mischievous look, finally taking a sip of his drink. After all, she'd probably let the names slip one day. This was going to be great. Hearing her next words, Jake choked on his drink again.

"Alrighty then. Which one of y'all boys is Statefarm?"

I can’t explain what blue eye samurai makes me feel…….its a typical revenge story, a man sets out on his hero’s journey to kill the four men who have wronged him. A lone ronin, wide brimmed hat and sword in hand, roaming Edo Japan on his vendetta. But he’s not a man. He’s a woman. And how has he been wronged? What’s she getting revenge on?

On the fact that she exists. She wants revenge on the four white men that could possibly have conceived her. Who got her Japanese mother pregnant with a blue-eyed child. And not just any blue-eyed child, but a girl child. How is she possibly supposed to live in the world like that? For the wrong of being conceived, for the wrong of being born, for the wrong of being birthed into a world that will never love or accept her, she will kill her father.

I don’t know what level of convoluted self hate that is. Is she a child of rape? Or a child of a whore? Halfway through I realise what she told herself at the start couldn’t possibly be true - it’s not really for her mother. Her mother wasn’t the root of her vendetta, she wasn’t really doing it for her. When she leaves that farm and leaves the chance to live a simple, legitimate life as a woman, she goes right back to hunting down the men. Those men personally wronged her.

And then there’s so much to be discussed surrounding the way she grew up, because as a boy child and a man she can afford so much more than life has dealt her. Her swordfather who took her in out of the love and care in his heart had no shame in teaching a mixed man his art. The face of a ‘demon’ is fine. But not the identity of a woman. Shh. Don’t say it. Don’t confess. He knows and doesn’t want to hear it.

And because she’s lived that way her entire life for safety and security, she’s so completely alienated from being a woman, perhaps she really is he. But not really by choice. Or is it? The thing she does best is the art of killing, the art of men. Gender is a prison and gender is a performance and she has to choose which to perform. The times cannot reconcile hatred and violence with a woman. So she lives as a man.

So she can get revenge on her father, for revenge on herself.

Best Man

Dick didn’t know what to expect when he arrived at the Manor, but it certainly wasn’t a flustered, obviously swooning Damian.

He’d came to check on him after another one of his balls with other royal families. This one being the first to be held in a place called the Infinite Realms with family’s from other dimensions and universes.

It was stressful for everyone, letting the packs youngest omega leave and go to other countries–and now other dimensions–to mingle and chat up princes and princesses like himself.

Unfortunately he would be the only one besides Alfred to talk with Damian when he first gets back. Tim and Bruce were stuck head first into a bombing, Jason was tracking down the guy who killed three of his workers, and the girls were away for a well-deserved vacation.

That left him to walk in and immediately be hit with the scent of maple syrup, sweet and earthy in a way Damian’s scent had never been before. Damian made a beeline for him from where he was sitting, obviously waiting. “Richard!” Damian smiled, “We must speak! At once!”

He let himself be pulled to Damian’s room, his mind turning. What could have happened to make Damian Al Ghul-Wayne smile, let alone flustered? Why was he so happy, because he was obviously, very openly, happy?

Damian pulled him into his room, locked the door, then pushed him onto the bed and began pacing. “I will first explain to you the way I, and by proxy every other heir in attendance of this ball, communicate.” Dick let him speak, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted.

“First and foremost, every little thing matters. From the way you position your hands to the tilt of you head, where you look, and even the position of your feet, every little thing means a completely different thing. This means that there are over a million–billion, really–things that you can say and express without a word.”

Damian looked to him for confirmation that he understood, then continued. “Not only that, but in the ballroom setting the order of which you introduce oneself to those in attendance is equally, if not more, important. As one could expect you go from those you deem most important to least. The shape of which you do these introductions also showcases this, moving past one party to another of higher standing.”

Here he paused, flushed again, and began fanning himself. “So, as you can imagine, a straight line means that you are the most important person in the room to this man.” “‘This man’?” He asked, some prices falling into place.

“Yes!” Damian said, turning towards him with a love struck, dazed expression, cupping his face and swooning. “Oh Richard, I met an alpha! The most wonderful, handsome, benevolent alpha in the world!” Dick couldn’t help himself; he squealed and hugged Damian, squeezing tight before setting him down next to him. “That’s amazing, Dami! Tell me everything—start from the beginning.” His little brother found someone! Someone who made him this happy—It was a miracle! Damian seemed very pleased with his reaction and grabbed his pillow as he began again.

“As I said, a straight line means you are the most important person. But what you do while you cross the room matters as well. Where you look, where you stop, how quickly you go, understand?” At his nod Damian flushed again, squeezing the pillow. “So, a straight line, with no stops, never looking away, and coming to me from the other side of the ballroom in less than a minute?”

“That means your very important to him.” Dick couldn’t help his high tone, Damian’s happiness seemed to be affecting him. Not like he minded; this was the first time one of his sibling came to him practically bursting with excitement about a potential relationship. This was a moment he would cherish forever.

“Yes!” Damian said, his tone matching Dicks own. “But that’s not all! The first meeting is also incredibly important, for so many reasons I don’t have time to name them all. But the first handshake can say a million things just like everything else. And since he was the first person I talked to–and in accordance to his standing-I gave a half bow to show I respected him but that I was also of high standing as an Al Ghul, dipped my head since he is a king and I am a prince and held out my hand waist high as an invitation.”

“And what he did in return?” Damian’s voice dipped into an excited whisper as he clutched the pillow and leaned in. “He did a full bow, bent his right knee and put his right foot behind his left with the heel raised, his left arm behind his back, took my hand with his right and kissed it long and deeply, all while maintaining eye contact!”

Damian pushed his face into the pillow for a second, then looked up. “And the meaning of that? The kiss? The eye contact?” Dick leaned forward, “What dose it mean?” Damian flushed again, his scent growing sweeter. “All of that combined means ‘there are no words in the languages we speak to describe your beauty’.” “Oh. My. God!”

“I know!” Damian voice was muffled as he screamed into his pillow. “And that was only the introduction, Richard! The introduction! Oh, and everything after was a dream.” He raised his head and grinned—a real, genuine smile. It warmed Dicks heart to see his usually stoic brother so happy.

“All while we were talking he wanted to know me. Not the Al Ghul heir, not the son of the bat, me! He asked about my interests, my favorite things—Richard, he called me Damian! You almost always refer to a heir by their last name because that’s what’s important to you. But he called me only Damian! I was important to him!”

Dick couldn’t help but laugh as he asked, “You called him by his name, right? Oh! His name! What’s his name? And you said he was a king, what’s he the king of?” Damian blushed–blushed!–and nodded. “Yes, it was only appropriate. His name is Daniel Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms, the afterlife dimension. Simply put, every afterlife that exists is located in this dimension.”

“Oooo, do you think there’s a queen? If the seats open~” Damian blushed at the implication, pushing his face into his pillow again and taking slow breaths. He was a little concerned about the whole ‘king of the afterlife’ thing–and wait, wasn’t the ball held in the Infinite Realms? Does that mean Damian was in the afterlife?–but if the Percy Jackson books have taught him anything it’s that the specifics matter. King of the afterlife is different from king of the dead or death itself.

“No, there is no queen. Daniel was only recently crowned after defeating Pariah Dark, the previous king and tyrant. Oh, I almost forgot to mention! You remember how the JLD marked Amity Park, Illinois an area of concern and in less that 72 hours lifted the warning without doing anything?” “Yeah, drove B crazy cus’ they wouldn’t say why or how or what happened.” “It was Daniel and Pariah Dark fighting for the throne!”

“What? Back up a bit,” Dick asked, confused. “What do you mean ‘it was him’?” Damian’s eyes shined as he explained. “Apparently, the entirety of Amity Park–Daniels home town–was dragged into the Infinite Realms due to Pariah Dark waking up and attacking! Daniel had to fight Pariah Dark to stop him from continuing his assault of this earth and the surrounding dimensions and universes, which is why he was trapped in the forever sleep.”

Damian swooned again, hugging his pillow as he sighed, “He saved not only earth but the surrounding multiverse, and confined in me that he didn’t even know he would become king! He said that the only thing that mattered to him was keeping everybody safe! Isn’t it heroic?” Dick expressed his agreement, making a mental note to tell all this to Bruce. He’d want to know about a kid Damian’s age who’s saved the multiverse seemingly all by himself.

Which reminded him, “How old is he?” Didn’t want another Midnighter situation. Damian’s advances on his first crush were hell to handle. “He’s one year my elder, and oh Grayson I was not exaggerating when I said he is gorgeous. He—well, hm.”

Damian paused and then pulled out his phone. “Please allow me a moment to acquire the correct knowledge of the colors blue, white, green and black so I can accurately portray to you just how otherworldly beautiful Daniel is.” Dick let him pursue the internet for a while, mentally filling out the start of a report form for Bruce. He returned his attention to Damian when he was ready.

“Now fully educated I can describe him in the detail he deserves. His skin is colored light blue grey and his face, possibly his whole body, is covered in freckles that take the shape of constellations colored passport blue. His hair is a dancing flame pulled back into a ponytail colored Mint cream, a greenish shade of white. His eyes are Lazarus colored, as is his tongue and blood. His teeth are sharp canines, piercing skin easily.”

A little worried how he knew that, but Dick would ask later. “His crown, the Crown of Fire, is a halo of Vantablack ice. The other piece showcasing his status is the Ring of Rage, colored same shade of black with a gemstone colored Carmine red.”

Damian sighed dreamily. “He was dressed elegantly, a Lazarus green suit vest over a vantablack button up and tie. His cape was clasped around his shoulders with a gold chain, pure white on the outside but a galaxy on the inside. It moved, Richard. He told me it changed galaxies and that at the moment it was showing the galaxy of dimension 62V-K.”

“Richard,” Damian said softly, his face flushed and eyes shining. “When he took my hand….I shivered. At first I thought nothing of it, but the longer I stood by his side it became harder and harder to deny it. His scent was….attractive. Like hickory and rain, maple and lightning. He smelled like a rolling thunderstorm, a summer morning.”

“I wanted to be closer, to drown in his scent. But it wasn’t just me.” Dick was certain he was about to die. It wasn’t just him? Oh no. “Were there others?” Dick asked worryingly. Damian blushed more, shaking his head then pushing his face into his pillow. When he raised his head he looked dazed. “It wasn’t just me, Richard. He...My scent…we were in the garden when he brought it up.”

“He’d wanted to show me the animals in the sanctuary, star seals and pomerantulas. We were sitting under a wysteria tree watching them roam. We were….I guess you would call it ‘cuddling’. Just…leaning against and holding each other. His arm was wrapped around my waist while his other held my hand.”

Damian blushed again and pushed his face back into the pillow as Dick ‘aww’ed. He raised his head once more and continued. “He turned to me and told me he couldn’t contain his desire any longer. When I asked what he meant…..” Damian took deep breath.

“He asked to smell my scent gland.” Dick blue screened for a moment. “He WHAT!?” He leaned forward, thinking he had misheard. Asking to smell a scent gland was more than a big deal. It was practically a mini proposal! “Did–what did you say?” Damian smiled again. “I said yes. He pulled my hand and put his lips to my wrist gland. He inhaled deeply and shivered. Richard, he growled.”

“He kissed my gland and told me it was taking all his strength and willpower not to mark me as his mate right that second. I…I didn’t know how to respond, and without thinking I told him he could scent me if I could scent him.” Dick gaped at him. Damian was very particular about physical contact, even more so about scenting. For him to ask an alpha to scent him, to ask if he could scent him—Damian was more than interested.

“He immediately agreed, and then….” Damian paused and Dick thought his head was going to explode from how red it was. “Theeeen??” Dick inquired. “Oh Richard, he pulled me onto his lap and against his chest.” Damian fell back into the bed, still clutching his pillow. “He began scenting and kissing my neck, telling me he wanted me in ways he didn’t know how to describe.”

Damian sighed dreamily. “He told me he wanted to court me, to make me feel like the most special and important person in the multiverse because that’s was I was to him. That he wanted to spread every waking and resting moment with me. Richard, he asked my opinion on children.”

“Oh and scenting him was heaven,” Damian swooned again, “to claim him as my alpha, even in the smallest ways, made my head spin. Richard….I began kissing his neck.” Dicks jaw was so open it was practically in the batcave. “You kissed him?? His scent gland?? Did he like it? What did you say to him???”

Damian nodded, eyes blown wide with a smile on his face. “I told him I accept his advances and that I wanted to mate as soon as possible. I told him I’d never wanted anyone–anything–more than I wanted to be his omega. That I wanted him to be my alpha. And then…. Oh it was so foolish and irresponsible of me to do, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” Damian put a hand over his heart.

“I kissed him.” Dick gasped. “Wh–did he kiss back?” “Yes!” Damian said, sitting up. “He kissed me back! It was so….soft at first, but then—oh it’s embarrassing to say.” Dick clasped his hands together. “ please please pleaseeeeee tell meeeee. You can’t leave me on a cliffhanger!” Damian laughed a little, laughing louder when Dick pulled him into a hug, still pleading.

“Ok, ok, I will tell you!” He giggled, allowing Dick to keep hugging him, which said a lot about how happy he was. “We–well, I don’t really know how, but one moment we were sitting up and the next he had me pinned to the ground.” Dick choked. Damian only laughed again. “Yes, I was surprised as well. He—we were…” Damian cleared his throat.

“….I believe it’s called ‘French kissing.’” Damian his his face in his hands at Dicks scandalized gasp. “It…was so warm. He tasted wonderful, and I wanted it to continue forever. I….I’ve never been more impulsive than I was in that moment. I put my hands in his hair–and I’m surprised it didn’t burn me–but anyways, I pulled him closer to me. But it wasn’t enough.”

Damian laughed a little, peeking through his fingers. “I…ha…I flipped us. So I was–dear lord Richard, I was sitting on his lap! I was straddling him!” Dick gasped again. “My baby brother, straddling someone? Oh pinch me, I think I’m dreaming!” He teased, smiling as Damian pinched him. “It certainly felt like a dream.” Damian sighed.

“Did he like it?” Damian hid his face again. “Yes, very much. I could smell and….feel him, if you understand.” Oh my god. Dick ‘ooo’ed and Damian laughed airily. “He obviously liked it, but did you?” Dick laughed as Damian squeaked, gasping again at his small nod. “Ooohhhh my little brother is growing uuupp,” he cried, hugging him again. “He has a boyfriend, he’s being courted, pretty soon you’ll be mated; it’s too much! Just yesterday you were eight!”

Damian didn’t try to push him away, leaning into him instead. “You are ok with this?” He asked hopefully, “You will allow him to court me?” Dick pulled back so he could look at Damian fully. “Damian, I’ve never seen you more happy than you are now. If this alpha can make you smile and laugh like this just after the first meeting, he has more than my blessing. He should be more worried about what I’ll do to him if he doesn’t court you.”

Damian laughed happily, hugging him. “I am very glad. I was worried you’d be against it, for I know Father will be.” He had a good point. Bruce went over-protectively ballistic when he found out Roy and Kori were courting Jason. When he finds out Daniel is the fucking King of the afterlife? It’ll take every super to hold him back from going to the Infinite Realms and interrogating it’s king.

“After a few minutes of, um….kissing, he pulled back rather quickly, so quickly in fact that I believed I’d done something wrong. Thankfully that was not the case.” Damian said, continuing after a moment. “I’d asked him and he quickly told me that I’d done nothing wrong, and that—that I was perfect. He said that he was having trouble controlling himself, and that if we continued…”

“Oh my god.” Dick whispered. “Damian, show me your neck right now.” Damian gasped and almost shrieked a scandalized ‘RICHARD!’ as Dick pulled at his shirt. Thankfully, there were no marks, some light bruises, but that was normal with kissing. He allowed Damian to smack his arm after. “How irresponsible do you believe me to be?! I tell you I do something without thinking once and suddenly you treat me like a harlot!?” Dick laughed as he apologized, conceding that it had been a little rude. Damian took a moment to collect himself before continuing.

“It is embarrassing to say, but while we were, ahem….busy, his sister appeared to inform us the ball would soon be over and Daniel had to give his closing speech as the host.” Dick laughed at Damian’s expression. He knew the mortifying feeling of a sibling walking in while you were making out with someone, and was glad Damian got to experience it.

“Her name is Jasmine, and I do hope you do not meet. I know your history with tall redheads.” He laughed again at Damians expression. “But more importantly, after Daniels speech he gave me a courting gift.” Dick gasped and watched as Damian quickly went to his dresser and dug under everything to bring out a small black box.

Damian came back and sat down next to him, opening it to reveal a ring. It was a green gemstone with a black band. The band was carved into a blooming flower with the gem in the center with leafs coming out the sides slightly. The gemstone wasn’t one of this world, or dimension most likely. The color changed shades of green depending on the light, the cut changing with it. To the left it was zigzags, to the rights it was a jagged bismuth, and when Damian pulled it back Dick saw it change to liquid.

Damian pulled it out and put it on his left ring finger, and Dick watched as it changed shape to fit his finger. Damian sighed dreamily as he turned his hand this way and that, tracing the gem with his other thumb. “He told me this was his mothers wedding ring, and that she had given her engagement ring to his sister and her wedding ring to him. Apparently his father created this jewel for his mother and carved the band, and he said he’d do the same for my wedding band.”

“Man, Daniel knows how to make a move!” Dick whistled as he took Damian’s hand to see the ring better. “I’ve seen some amazing courting gifts in my day, but his mothers wedding ring as the first gift? You said his dad made this gem for his mom? Does that mean he’s going to make the same gem for you?” Damian blushed as Dick admired the ring.

“I believe so, since according to Daniel this gem is currently the only one in existence, making my wedding ring the second.” Damian stopped for a second, making Dick pause too. Damian was still and silent for about thirty seconds before he exclaimed “My god, it’s a tradition!” Dick blinked. “..what?” “It’s a family tradition! It’s something his father did, he’ll do, and our children will do as well! It’s generational!”

Damian was fanning himself and blushing again, and Dick couldn’t help but laugh. Of course thats what does it. A tradition. And probably also the fact that Daniel was already talking about their wedding. Damian was also going on and on about the wedding, who would be there and what type of flowers and what he would wear.

“Father and Mother will walk me down the aisle, of course, and Jon will be groomsman as well as Colin, Jason, Tim, and Duke.” Dick raised an eyebrow. “What about me?” Damian smiled at him. “You’ll be my best man, of course.”

❤︎‬ first comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage... ❤︎‬ jericho ichabod x fem reader ‪ ❤︎‬ wc: 5k ❤︎‬ content warning(s): nsfw, breeding/lots of explicit mentions of pregnancy ❤︎‬ jericho ichabod is from the kid at the back being developed by fantasia-kitt ❤︎‬ mdni banner by cafekitsune

“what do you see yourself doing in the future?”

you blink, the distant twinkling light of the stars wavering as your vision refocuses. you crane your neck to the side, and you find your best friend, jericho “crowe” ichabod, peering back at you. he looks so beautiful, with his long hair loose and gazing at you as if you had hung the stars in the night sky. you almost feel a little shy from the eye contact. no matter how long you’ve been by his side, you can’t seem to properly adjust to just how sweet and effortlessly charismatic he could be. 

“the future…,” you mumble over the words as if chewing them over, “well, i’d like to save my family farm, for starters. but you knew that already.”

a devious idea pops into your head, and a grin sneaks onto your face as you turn to look back into crowe’s deep blue eyes. “and once i’ve done that, i’d like to marry my best friend someday. except he’s just so awfully shy that it’ll probably take us a while to get there.”

his eyes widen before he lets out a sheepish laugh, turning away from you to poorly hide his warming cheeks. he waves his hand as if trying to create some space, but he doesn’t make any real effort to move away from you or anything. “i’m being serious here!”

“who said i wasn’t being serious?” you quickly quip. you puff your cheeks out in a display of mock frustration. “quit beating around the bush and make me an ichabod already, crowe! once we’ve done that, i think it’d be nice to have a family too. would i be being too greedy if i said i wanted three kids?”

you can tell it’s taking everything in your usually well-composed friend to keep his calm facade. he can’t quite meet your expectant gaze, and you can see the hint of a barely repressed smile threatening to overtake his countenance. his normally collected voice trembles a little when he responds to you. “you’re not being greedy so long as you’re ready to bear the responsibility of being a parent. what kind of kids are you hoping for, my starlight?”

you pause to think about it slightly. in all honesty, you’d be happy with any family you could have with crowe, kids or not. just the thought of being able to have crowe by your side like this for the rest of your life has your face feeling tingly and your heart doing cartwheels. still, it’s not like you haven’t daydreamed about this before. if you close your eyes, you can basically imagine the scene in front of you. 

boughs of golden wheat bounce back and forth in the gentle breeze. the dimming sun slowly crawls across the horizon towards its resting place for the night. the persistent song of cicadas and grasshoppers fill your ears, signalling the classic symphony of summer nights you’ve always grown up with. crowe looks a little bit older in your daydream—there’s an air of refined maturity around him, but his eyes hold the same fondness towards you they’ve always had. you can hear the excited squeals of young children as they play a few feet away from you, mud smeared over their tiny hands as they try to catch the tiny bugs that flit around in the air. 

“i want a cute baby. one that looks just like you,” you answer after a few moments worth of deliberation, grinning to yourself at your idyllic daydream. “what about you? if i said that i wanted kids with you, would you want them too?”

“i want anything that you want,” he smoothly entertains your idea. your happiness is contagious, another mischievous grin creeps up the corners of his mouth until he can barely hide the giggles threatening to overtake him “except i think i’d like our children to look more like you.”

he stops to let out a dreamy sigh, as if the vision of your future happiness that you painted aligns perfectly with his. it does. “my hope for my future is just about the same as yours. as long as we can stay together… i’d be happy no matter what we do.”

…

…

…

you should know by now not to joke around with crowe. 

as patient and as understanding as the young man is, he’s the type of man to take your teasing and return it tenfold. he’s repaying your tantalizing words with spades, but you’re too fucked out to make heads or tails of it all.

all you care about right now is how good his body feels. you’re sitting perfectly on his lap, his thick cock in between your shaking thighs and stuffed into your drooling cunt. his pretty hands are all over your chest, and you let out a pathetic whimper as he slowly gropes at your tits, big palms massaging the soft flesh. you feel so weak against his bigger form, molded perfectly to where he wants you to be. you’re in the palm of his hand, moving exactly to how he wants you to.

“hush, starlight,”  he whispers. you can hear the satisfaction in his voice. “i’m here to take care of you. you were the one that wanted this so badly. you were the one that brought this up first.”

truth is truly stranger than fiction. one moment crowe was offering to walk you home after keeping you at the park so late, and next thing you know, your mouth is on his and the two of you are stumbling into your dingy apartment. your clothes are scattered all over the floor, and your cheap mattress creaks from your combined weight with his. every time you or crowe moves slightly, it lets out a whine in protest, but you’re too preoccupied with the fact that you have his dick inside of you. 

you let out another desperate cry when crowe shifts his hips slightly, rolling his length into you and grinding up into your velvety walls once he bottoms out into you. fuck—he isn’t doing anything that extreme to you, and your mind is going blank. his thrusts are so slow and sensual, not even enough to set a steady pace and more akin to cockwarming than anything else, but it feels so stupidly good to have his cock stuffed into your needy hole and stretching your pussy out. has his dick always felt this good? or are you so drunk off of your emotions that your body is betraying you this quickly?

“you were talking such a big game earlier,” his voice echoes around your ears again. “telling me that you wanted me to marry you and give you children. don’t you have me right where you want me? oh, my love… don’t tell me that you can’t take it.”

“you’re being unfair-,” you manage out weakly. “you- you feel too good inside me…! every time you rub against me, i can’t think!”

he only chuckles under his breath. “you make it so easy for me to love you… if you’re losing your mind with me only doing this much, you’re going to make me waver too… i really wanted to take my time breaking you down, but if you’re begging for it, then you really leave me no choice.”

your breath audibly hitches when his fingers roll over your hardened nipples, and you whine like a bitch in heat when he pinches at your nipples carefully, tugging ever so slightly at your tits. heat flutters up your chest and your stomach, and pleasure flashes somewhere deep in your brain. your cunt coils around his twitching length, squeezing him even more than you already were. 

“don’t play with my boobs like that, i’ll go crazy!” you sob. it’s too good. you’re so in love with him that everything he does to you goes straight to your cunt. everything he does to your body feels so good that you feel like you can’t breathe. 

his fingers hesitate, just hovering above your sensitive nipples. you choke down a frantic gasp, momentarily thinking that he was finally being nice enough to listen to you. but when you feel his fingertips trace down the silhouette of your body before resting in between your thighs. you grit your teeth when he starts to toy with your clit. his thrusts slow down before he keeps you grounded all the way to the hilt, stuffed straight into your cunt. 

“you’re right. apologies for being so careless, my dear,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. jolts of red-hot, electric pleasure grip at your stomach. he rubs slow, sticky circles against your sensitive nub, moving just the way you like it. “how could i forget? if i really want my cum to take… i ought to make you cum a few times first. make sure you open your womb up to me…”

you can’t think. you feel like you have to physically remind yourself to breathe. inhale, exhale, while crowe pinches and presses his fingertips against your clit. it feels so good to speared open on his swollen cock, but when he’s not moving and only playing with your clit, the arousal is almost too much for you to handle. you want him to fuck you, to be true to his word and make you cum your brains out and fill you up with his babies. 

“d-don’t just play with my clit…!” you eke out, desperate to feel anything. no matter how much you try to grind down on his cock and try to get some movement, crowe stays steadfast in making sure you don’t feel any excess pleasure. 

you feel like you’re melting against his body. you swear you can feel his weeping tip prodding against the entrance of your womb, and you’re overwhelmed with just how much you want his cum inside you. but once crowe has his mind set on something, he isn’t the kind of person to give up. 

and he thinks you’re so adorable, shuddering and falling apart the more he plays with your poor clit. the heat in your core keeps mounting relentlessly, thrashing and swirling deep in your belly as if it's a caged beast demanding to be released.

god, you’re falling apart so quickly. you’re letting out desperate, incoherent cries, stumbling over your words as you moan nonstop. “ah- feels good- you’re being so mean to me- playing with just my clit when i want- when i want you to fuck me with your cock instead…!”

crowe knows how to rip apart your seams. he’s the only man in the world that could make you cum this fast. you can feel him whispering sweet nothings to you with his characteristic amused lilt in his voice, but all of it goes straight to your pulsing cunt. you’re drooling all around him, wet walls making a mess out of his twitching cock. you’re milking him, fluttering around him so sweetly, and he wants nothing more than to give in and fuck your brains out while breeding you.

but crowe is nothing if not a gentleman. and a gentleman must be patient. you’re already at your limit, so it’s really just a matter of time before you crumble completely and crowe can move in for the sweetest kill. 

“think ‘m gonna cum-,” your voice wavers so beautifully as you throw your head back. your hips lurch unconsciously, not sure whether or not to chase the overwhelming pleasure of his ministrations. “fuck- gonna cum…! gonna cum from having my clit played with-!! you’re the worst-!”

“now, my starlight, surely you don’t mean that?” he chuckles. he pinches your clit in retaliation, and he’s rewarded with such a lovely anguished cry from you. “i told you already. i’m merely preparing you for what’s to come.”

you’re clenching and unclenching all around his cock, your gummy walls clinging onto every inch of his thick length. your hands grab at whatever you can hold onto. your toes curl, and the edges of your vision are going blurry. crowe can feel his hand muscles aching, but he doesn’t want to stop, not when you’re this close to cumming.

you clench your eyes shut, jerking up against crowe’s body. “cumming- fuck- ah…! it’s too much- can’t take it- please…! i’m cumming, i’m cumming, fuck, fuck-!”

your orgasm grips you from the inside out. something deep in your tummy explodes, and heat consumes you whole. you let out a strangled cry, your voice wavering and breaking as pleasure overrides every one of your senses. your walls clamp down on his cock, and your poor cunt spasms all around him. it’s so dumb and it’s so good, just the thought of being spread open and fucked out and going dumb just from being penetrated by crowe’s cock. 

ever the sweetheart, crowe keeps playing with your clit through your orgasm, jolts of electricity pooling in your stomach. even though you’re still wading senselessly through the most gripping high of your climax, crowe needs to see more from you. he’s not satisfied with plunging you into these depths once. 

you push weakly at crowe’s hands when you can muster the strength to do so, your clit numb and tingling from how much crowe’s abused it. “i-i just came…! don’t keep playing with it- too much-”

somewhere deep in your mind, you can feel the dull thrums of arousal starting to awaken again. just cumming from having your clit played isn’t enough—you need more. your body’s still reeling from the electric shockwaves of your first orgasm, but at the same time, you want him to make you cum on his cock. you want him to hold your legs open and fuck load after load of his cum into you, only stopping when you both know that he’s fucked a sweet little baby into you.

just the thought has your stomach doing flips. you keep squeezing around him, subconsciously clenching and drooling all over his length. it drives him crazy to know that you’re still raring to go. you two really can’t resist each other.

“forgive me, love.” you know he’s not actually asking for forgiveness, not when you can tell that he’s far too pleased with himself. “it just feels so good when you cum around my cock…”

you whine. “you’re awful, crowe!”

his movements falter. you tense up when you feel his dick twitch inside of you. something in the air visibly shifts, and you let out a gasp when crowe’s deft fingers glide upwards across your stomach. you gasp when his sticky fingers grab at your face, and his fingertips press into your cheeks. he cranes your face slightly, exposing the side of your neck to him completely.

“crowe?” he repeats the nickname you called out. “oh, you’re breaking my heart. and here i thought that you’d at least have the decency to moan my real name…”

he presses his lips to the side of your neck, showering your sensitive skin with a flurry of sickly sweet kisses. you can feel your heart flutter as his light touches spread over your neck, the affection making you melt in his embrace.

“i want everyone to know that i’m the one who got my hands all over you,” he murmurs against your skin. “that i’m the one that made you feel this good. that i’m the one who got you pregnant. you know my name, dear. or do i have to give you a more thorough reminder?”

a chill runs down your back when you feel crowe shift his hips, and a moan lodges itself in the back of your throat as he slowly slides his cock out of you. you almost instinctively brace yourself when you can only feel his tip buried into your warmth, pussy practically leaking from how much you want to get fucked.

he thrusts. hard. one full motion to wedge his entire length back into your walls.

“jericho.” his hold on you is firm. “that’s my name. moan my name, starlight.”

he thrusts again, and you whimper when you can feel every inch of him spreading your walls out. he wiggles his hips slightly before fucking into you over and over, and you stumble over your breathing as heat claws at the inside of your tummy.

“oh- ah- jericho!” you cry out. your pussy flutters around him as you moan his name. some sick part of you is thoroughly enjoying being claimed and fucked into mindless oblivion. you’re his. all his.

pleasure shoots straight into your core like a bullet. fuck—fuck, this was all you wanted. you don’t even get a proper chance to collect your thoughts before crowe is fucking into you with a vigor you’ve never seen before, pumping his whole cock in and out of you as if he’s determined to break your cunt. your mind immediately goes blank as pleasure and heat shoot throughout your veins like a kind of poison, and his hand slides down to grip at your neck possessively. 

he isn’t actively choking you, but he’s very clearly staking his claim over your body. your pleasure—and now, even your breathing—are all dependent on how merciful he’s feeling. you can feel your stomach tie itself into knots at the thought. he’s so kind and yet so demanding at times, and just thinking about being tied down to him forever has your cunt tightening up with need.

he laughs softly. you can feel some of his long hair brush up against you when he leans forward to press another kiss to your throat. “there we go. much better, isn’t it? say my name again.”

even though he isn’t moving particularly fast, he’s moving deep and hard. each full-bodied stroke has you seeing stars. you’re gasping for air whenever his tip presses up deep inside of you, just ghosting over that one spot jericho knows you love so much.

“jericho! jericho- fuck!” your mind’s getting all scrambled up. “wh-what more do you want from me?”

“you said it yourself earlier. you want a baby with me.” his hold on your neck shifts slightly, and his teeth ghost over your neck. your walls contort around him. a chilling plunge of pleasure creeps down your spine at the thought of him biting you. your mind spins as you envision yourself, all fucked out and babbling, as jericho sinks his fangs into your skin and marks you both inside and out. 

you brace yourself when you hear him suck in an inhale. with a well-timed thrust, he bites down on your neck. pain momentarily shoots through your body, but you let out a loud moan as it dissolves into a kind of mind numbing pleasure. you can feel him applying just enough pressure to leave a mark, wanting everyone to see who it was that laid their hands all over you. it makes your insides stir.

“jericho, you- you’re so…!” you can’t bring yourself to finish your statement. you’re bouncing shamelessly on his lap, unable to get enough of the addictive rush shooting through your body. his tongue lovingly laps over the bite marks on your neck, and another shiver runs down your spine.

“i know, my dear, i know…i want to make you mine. through and through,” he whispers against his handiwork. his hands are moving all over you now: caressing your sides, pressing against your stomach, tracing the outline of your thighs. “you understand, don’t you? i can feel you tightening up around me… you like this as much as i do, don’t you?”

you don’t have anything to say to him. you let out another round of incoherent cries as he fucks you over and over on his cock, your hips lewdly moving up and down in a feverish need to take as much of him as you can. jericho knows how to read you to filth, and even now, as he fucks you open on his cock, all you can think of is how he’s the only one that could ever make you feel this good. he’s stuffing you full, and the promise of having your womb filled with his sticky cum makes your mind spin. 

you’re going insane. your cunt offers no resistance, your juices only making it that much easier for him to slide his entire length in and out, in and out of you. the pressure in your stomach only grows and grows. the heat in your body twists and slinks around under your skin, and the overstimulation makes your mind go blank. you need it, you want it, but god, it makes it feel like your body’s being set on fire. 

“ah! if you- if you fuck me with your whole cock after you’ve made me cum, i’ll actually lose my mind!” you protest weakly. that stupid jericho! he knows your body too well, and he’s using every scrap of knowledge against you. he’s making you feel so good that you think you’ll go crazy, and he looks as unfazed as ever.

his voice is laced with a kind of lovesickness as he bounces you on his lap, wet sounds of skin on skin echoing all the room. “so tight- so tight and wet… perfect for my cock, perfect to be bred… you’re taking me so well. it makes me so happy to know that you wanted this as much as i did.”

his hands go to cup your chest, and he’s back to unapologetically groping your tits while bouncing you on his cock. you grit your teeth as he deftly teases your nipples, tugging on them just the slightest bit. your senses are fried to hell and back, overwhelmed with everything he’s doing to you. your previous orgasm only accentuates the pleasure, your clit tingling as his heavy balls slap up against it with each calculated stroke.

“so pretty… doing so good for me…” even his praise feels like teasing, especially when his tip is bullying your cervix. his thrusts are faster, deeper now, focused entirely on maximizing how good you feel so that he can fill you up. his palms squeeze at your tits greedily. “i can’t wait to see how pretty you’ll be with my baby inside of you. swollen and glowing, all because of me… can’t wait for your pretty chest to be filled with milk too… leaking with milk to feed our babies…”

your cunt clenches around him. his words are going straight to your pussy. his hips shift, and you think you’re going to cum. you can’t take it anymore, everything has been boiling up inside of you. just thinking about how much you’ve longed for him, longed for a future with him, makes your heart swell up. you really must be nothing more than a lovestruck pervert, getting off this much to the thought of your first love marrying you and fucking a baby into you.

“‘m gonna cum!” you whine. “if you talk like that- fuck me like that- i’ll cum!”

“that’s what i’m here for,” he grunts. his balls twitch against your entrance when he hears you whimpering about cumming, and you know he’s getting close to his limit too. his once sharp thrusts are getting more and more sloppy, and his breathing is also growing more shallow and ragged. “it’s alright… cum as much as you want. are you close?”

“yes-,” you choke out. your vision is growing hazy, blurring around the edges. you’re not sure how to comprehend all of the stimuli racking up on your body, but you want more of it. you love being stretched out jericho’s cock, love being fucked stupid, love it when he uses your body the way he wants to. “so close- wanna cum so badly…!”

“tell me you love me,” he pants out. something in your stomach lurches. your cunt keeps milking his cock, desperate to be painted white with his cum, and it’s driving him just as crazy. “it takes two people in love to make a baby… tell me you love me, and then- and then, i’ll let you cum as much as you want.”

your heart stirs inside of your chest. that’s so like jericho to believe in something like that. you don’t doubt your emotions towards the princely young man. your attraction, your trust, and your connection to him all has to stem from that simple four letter word that has you acting simultaneously like a maniac and a fiend for another taste of his attention. there’s no other word that can be used to describe why your body reacts this much to his touches, why you keen and crumble under every one of his kisses, why it always feels like heaven when you give into his disarming advances.

“i love you! i love you, jericho!” you moan out. you feel so full, so giddy, so drunk off of everything he makes you feel. his cock stutters inside of you as jericho takes a second to soak up your confession, the slightly possessive edge he tries so hard not to show flickering somewhere underneath his demeanor. 

“i love you too, my starlight. i love you. i love you.” he fucks harder into you, and if it weren’t for his tight grip on you, you might have collapsed entirely against his chest by now. “let’s be together forever.”

his hips stutter against yours, and he grabs at your hips, yanking you down as far as you can take him. you let out a strangled cry, your voice tinged with need, as you feel him push into you until he bottoms out inside of your cunt. you instinctively brace yourself. you just need a little more. just a little push, and all the pressure building up in your core could come loose.

“ah-!” 

you feel his cock twitch and throb dangerously inside you, and something deep inside your stomach explodes. ropes of sticky cum flood your womb, and you can’t take it anymore. jericho shifts his hips against yours, grinding up against your pussy, and you’re cumming your brains out with a cry of his name. the knot in your stomach snaps, and you’re gushing around him, your juices mixing together with his. you can feel his semen seep deeper and deeper into you, settling somewhere so deep inside you that you think you can feel it take almost immediately.

your head feels heavy, overrun with the ecstasy of something bordering between love and submission. you came from being creampied, from having a baby fucked into your cunt. you can feel jericho’s soft pants fan out against the back of your neck as he buries his face where your shoulder meets your throat, lips glossing over your sweaty skin. he lets you ride out your high, and you swallow thickly, much needed air filling your strained lungs. he keeps you firmly planted on his lap, using his cock to keep all of his cum plugged up inside of your cunt. 

“i came-,” you breathe. your voice sounds so weak and soft. “i came from getting creampied…!”

“you did well. that’s my darling.” jericho presses another flurry of sweet kisses to your body, and you can’t help but feel a little shy when his hand ghosts over your lower stomach again, right where his cum is settling inside of you. his fingertips trace the shape of a small heart. “you’re going to look so, so beautiful with my children. you’ll be glowing. i’m sure of it. i’ll take such good care of you. i promise i will.”

heat rushes to your face at the thought of being fawned over even further than jericho already does over you. you can feel his half-soft-half-hard cock stir inside of you at the thought of you pregnant, and you bite back a small laugh. for someone so gentle and so thoughtful about his every action and word, he really just couldn’t control himself around you. his palm presses up against your stomach carefully, and you sigh when you can feel his cum sloshing around inside of your belly. your head still feels a little fuzzy from the electric aftershocks of your back-to-back orgasms, but with jericho’s cock buried snugly inside you and keeping you plugged up and full with his semen, you can’t help but want another taste of the divine bliss. 

“someone looks like they could go for another round.” you crane your neck and raise your hand to comb your fingers through jericho’s silky hair. “already getting hard again?”

“we can take a break if you want.” his lips stretch out into an angelic grin, and he moves into your calming touch. “but… i want to make sure it takes properly. wouldn’t hurt to keep going just a little more… i’ll make sure you feel good the entire time, my starlight. that’s my job, after all.”

it’s your turn to smile at him. you’d be lying if the thought of getting fucked senseless in all sorts of positions all night until you have no choice but to get knocked up didn’t turn you on. you know that you’re the reason jericho’s this insatiable, and having given him the okay only made it that much easier for him to drag you into the depths of his infatuation.

“tell me you love me first,” you mimic his words from not too long ago. “then i’ll let you go at it.”

surprise flickers across his pretty face, but it quickly melts away into a fondness in his eyes that he reserves solely for you. your heart swells with affection as he moves in to kiss your face, his lips fluttering all over your jaw and cheeks before landing on the corners of your lips. 

“i love you. i promise to love you forever. let’s spend the rest of your lives together, okay?” he asks tenderly before capturing you into a deep kiss. you reciprocate, letting him kiss you over and over again until you can feel your skin tingle dangerously again. 

“of course. i love you too, jericho.”

élisabeth vigée le brun: marie antoinette and her children

Class 1-A x Reader

- I got inspiration off of Lady Tamayo from Demon Slayer for the reader's quirk. Also, this is my first ever one-shot, so if you happen to have any constructive criticism let me know!

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"So, what's your quirk?"

For a few weeks now, the students of Class 1-A had been anticipating the new American transfer student, all of their conversations leading to what they thought they would be like one way or another.

But what they didn't expect was for you to walk through those classroom doors.

You had an air of elegance that followed you as you walked gracefully to the front of the classroom to introduce yourself.

Your eyes were captivating, the shade of [Eye Color] was magnificent, and they seemed so calm, yet oddly mysterious; almost as if they were filled with intricate handwritten poetry that no one could understand without looking close enough.

You were one of the most stunning people to grace their eyes, a walking goddess. Your name, [First Name] [Last Name], had some of the students mentally bowing at your feet.

A green haired boy to the side of the classroom had asked the question, a curious glint in his eyes.

You turned your head to him, the eye contact causing his face to explode into a bright blush, and you could've sworn you saw steam come out of his ears. You smiled softly, and to everyone it felt as if the temperature in the room had been bumped up a few degrees. Your smile was soft and serene; almost delicate. It was so alluring.

"My quirk is called 'Illusion'. It's pretty simple; it allows me to make illusions so long as I can imagine them up in my mind. I can make the illusions touchable, too. That's what allows me to do damage and make attacks."

God, your voice! It was so pleasant to listen to; the soft sound of it resonating through the room making everyone relax into their seats. It was almost seductively smooth; your words dripping to the floor and slowly filling the room with the sweet flavor of honey.

"Could you demonstrate it?"

A hand had shot up, belonging to a bubble-gum pink girl with yellow horns peeking out from her fluffy pink hair. Her eyes were strange; the whites of them being black and her irises being a lovely shade of gold.

You looked towards your new teacher for confirmation, only to find that he was in a bright yellow sleeping bag on the floor. He looked up and gave you a grunt and a nod before promptly flopping back down to resume his nap.

You looked back towards the class, slipping your eyes shut and bowing your head slightly. It was silent for a few moments, the class leaning forward in their seats in anticipation.

Just as an ash blond-haired boy was about to speak up (probably to exclaim that you couldn't even activate your quirk and that you were "just another extra"), a large gust of wind blew past his face. Then, several more strong gusts of wind heading in all different directions flew across the classroom; the students ducking their heads and some even exclaiming in surprise. Even Aizawa had been yanked from his slumber, shielding his head and eyes.

After it had all calmed down, the students all slowly raised their heads, cautious of what they might find when they glanced up.

But nothing had prepared them for what they saw when they opened their eyes.

Giant floating trails of intricate flower patterns in hues of purple, orange, yellow, pink, and even blue had been streaked around the classroom; strings of liquid gold weaving their way through each trail. The trails were all slowly flowing in different directions, but they all lead back to you. The trails emitted a soft yet ethreal glow, making the outside world seem darker.

The class was silent in awe and admiration. Some students even reached there hands up to touch the patterns, only for them to phase through their hands as if they weren't even real. Well, they weren't, but it felt as if they were; simply out of reach to their physical forms.

Aizawa had sat up at this point, looking around with shock. That shock quickly evolved into awe and he relaxed. He was told of your quirk before you entered the classroom, but he wasn't aware that it could be this beautiful and serene. Just for a moment, his nearly constant state of stress had subsided into something more pleasing.

That was when the class had decided as a whole; this school year is about to get much, much more interesting.

Okay so Danny gets adopted by Bruce. Yeah? Yeah.

And they don't know about his powers? Obviously. We know this part of the story.

BUT. On a casual trip out for food or whatever, Danny and some of the bat sibs get cornerd by reporters and paparazzi. There panicking bec danny JUST got here and they haven't had time to breif him on how to interact with the media and he's totally gonna flounder and they need to help him before he totally flubs it!

Exept, he doesn't. He smiles, nice and bright, into the camra. He waits patiently for each reporter to ask their questions and then answers confidently, giving them something walst acctually answering nothing. "Where are you from?" "A small town, I'm sure you wouldn't know it but, really, it's about where I am now."How did you come to be adopted by bruce?"Well, I look quite a bit like my new brothers, don't you think? Haha. I like to think it was meant to be."

And on and on he gose, dancing around them, shareing professionally worded jokes and calmly addressing eatch person as they viyed for his attention, controlling the flow of conversation.

The bat kids all look at eatchother.

This kids been media trained.

canada won world juniors so here’s some sketches for something I’m working on with hockey player!deku

Im just poor

We know that Facebook is brainscorching your parents and tiktok is brainscorching your cousins, but some of you refuse to admit that you got your brain scorched here. However unlike those sites there isn't an algorithm here you just make bad choices.