#I'm equally excited for the new gods as the flash

[badomensgoodomens]

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER 3

Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: really random smut. soz. not proofread! really random. definitely for the plot moment.

i hope you guys eat this up like you did with the teaser.

taglist at the bottom

It was nearing the end of the US tour, and honestly, my bones ached. We were all drained, even Jolly, who always kept a calm-ish composure, was antsy. It was our one day off, Matt dragged us to some shopping plaza. 

It was lowkey chill, just sitting in the food court talking about some post tour plans. I swear I saw a flash of red hair, it made me sit up a little straighter. But when I turned to look, there was nobody. God, I was so exhausted I was seeing shit now. Nick was chatting about how apparently a pretty girl moved in next door to the house he shared with his brother. About the time that kid got a girlfriend. 

Nicholas invited me to spend the break at his parents' ranch, which felt like home to me too—they were practically my second family. That was the bond Nicholas and I shared. Ruffilo had always been my best bud, Nick and Jolly coming in at a close second. I took Natasha there once, to meet my makeshift family. She didn’t show up. 

It was embarrassing on my behalf, I had boasted about her to Nicholas mom countless of times. She was excited for me, my career restricted my love life, yet there I was, hooking up with girls. 

I swear I saw her red hair again, the same red hair that we’d get into arguments about. Stupid arguments really, her hair kept staining my pillows, wondering how many other guys' pillows she stained. 

“Dude- are you even listening?” Matt leaned forward, waving his hand in my face. I rubbed my eyes with my palms. “I’m fucking wrecked.” I grumbled, taking a sip of the coke in front of me. Matt hummed, flicking through his work diary. “Got 6 months break, back on for 6 months, and off again.” I just nod, too exhausted to absorb any information. 

Back at the venue, I immediately seek refuge in between the grey sheets of my bunk, my mind a million words per minute. I fumbled with the cover of my notebook, scrambling down some notes. 

Why’s  this always gotta happen to me?

I should have known. 

I never fail to learn from mistakes, still throwing stones.

Blah blah blah….

I feel my focus fading away, i had high hopes

Running from the man I used to be, but I'm too slow. 

It was honestly the roughest of rough drafts, but I was itching to get back in the studio. Ideas were just piling up, emotions weaved within poem-like structures, they were all.. rough, and definitely needed fine tuning, but they were beginning to represent an album. 

Songwriting is not something that can be forced, it's an intricate, spread of emotion with an equally as unique and specific composition in the background. It was never good enough. Never, ever good enough. 

I had watched time and time again how the scrunched up failed drafts piled up, nothing ever feeling raw enough, or not too the fans liking. It didn’t help that Sumerian were so fucking picky on albums, or that ever since we released that song with poppy, we were obligated to tour with her. The rumours were digging my head in. 

Is this really what I want for my career? I ponder on that question too much. I should bring it up in therapy with Dr Tomson. Fuck. I was getting off track. Literally. Sumerian’s requirements for this album was a track that would hit the charts, and a minimum of 12 songs. Part of me regrets signing with them, but would I be this successful had I not? 

I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Matt had pointed that out when I woke up the next morning. I just hummed, brain on autopilot. “You know, we need an artist for the new album’s cover, considering booking times that's something we need to plan months in advance.” Matt spoke, flicking through his diary. Nick stood in the kitchen in grey sweats, brewing coffee. “I could find somebody,” he said, handing me a cup. 

I nodded, sitting on the bar stool. “Is Jolly up yet?” I asked, flicking through the pages of my notebook, briefly going over some of my rough, rough drafts. Nick shook his head, “Him and Nicholas got back late that night, something wrong with the wires and shit.” 

NEUTRAL POV

She was scribbling in her journal as the sun went down, propped up on her windowsill, once  again. Writing a poem about the bitterness and scars of her childhood, it always stuck out to her how Nevada was so quick to dance around what actually happened, yet she had no problem shouting it to the world. Whether it be from art, or journaling, it was easier to keep a manuscript, a direct display on what shaped her to be who she is today. 

It felt like all her knowledge and skills of painting were slipping through her fingers, but it hurt too much to resume again. Emotionally, and financially. Maybe this was just something she’d have to come to terms with, she couldn’t dwell on her past quite like this anymore, she wasn’t old enough to do that quite yet. 

“Let’s go out.” She said, her words rushed, standing in the doorway of Nevada's room. Nevada’s eyes were wide, she had begun to worry about her, and now she’s just popped up saying she wants to go out? 

Choose your battles I guess

Nevada and Y/n got ready together, something they used to do as rebellious teens. Good vibes and pregame drinks, music blasting through the house. All dolled up in sparkly dresses, with dawn the hype man, the two set off into the city. The city was illuminated with a series of advertisements and bustling nightclubs, everyone with the same objective; to get absolutely shit-faced. 

And so those two did, Dawn snuck Nevada away  to do.. stuff.. In the car, while she was grinding up against a particularly tall blonde boy. His voice was fuckin hot, like musky and sexy and every single adjective you could use to describe a man. And god, he smelt good, and his touch just made her melt. 

She hadn’t expected to run into her cousin and her husband, and his bandmates. But when she laid her eyes on that fine ass man standing- no. looming over the group of british boys. He introduced himself as Vessel, quite an uh- unique- name, but who was she to judge? She was horny, and there was a tall metal vocalist right in her grip. 

Everything about him was enticing, his defined, gorgeous abs, his absolute killers of canine teeth, and his voice. It made her unbelievably wet, she needed something. She’d gone without for so long, having thrown her vibrator out when she met noah. 

They snuck down the side alleyway, the booming stereo filtering through the constant revolving door around the corner. She was a fit of giggles as he hiked up her sparkly dress. Compliments rolling off his tongue, as he traced the curves of her ass. 

His fingers ran along the waistband of her panties, soft, dainty pink ones. “Yeah..? you want me to touch you?” She smiled up at him, her pearly whites making his jeans tighten. With a soft tug of the hips, she had her back to him as he fumbled with the button of his jeans. 

“Fuck… so wet.. already?” he groaned out, lining himself up. She let out a strangled moan as she sank down on his cock, overwhelmed at the size. Her fingers grasped around his wrists as he began to move, holding on for dear life. 

It was a quickie in a back alley way, but it didn’t stop the shame when she woke up in his bed the next morning. 

“I’m so fucking sorry oh my god my cousin is going to kill me-” she spouted off, pacing around this poor guys island bench. He sat at the barstool, eating bacon and eggs. 

“Stop stressing.” he huffed gruffly, a sleepy look on his face. 

“Dude- like.. Respectfully, youre a fucking stranger, i’m in your house, you’re in an anonymous band bro!!” She shouted, a little bit more than panicked. 

“It was a quickie, nothing more. We can be friends if you’re so worried about it.” he mumbled, eating his food. 

“Ugh…” she sat down on the barstool next to him, stealing his coffee cup. “So… what’s it like being a rockstar?” 

“Busy. Why do you ask?” he questioned, turning to face her. 

“Well… I dated- sorry, hooked up with a rockstar and never really asked him about it.” she shrugged, not caring if it was an overshare. 

“How come?’ he asked, a curious tone in his voice. 

“Didn’t necessarily stick around for me to ask. Was more of a ‘pump and dump’ guy.” she responded, toying with the keychains of her car keys.  

“Don’t ever say that again.” He cringed, resuming eating. “So why’d you hook up with him in the first place?” 

“He was hot.” 

“No shit Sherlock, other qualities.”

She sat for a moment, really questioning everything. Why. why, why? 

“He was carefree, wasn’t afraid to be himself, but was a bit afraid of commitment.” was the answer she scrounged up. He just hummed, “So who was it?”

She grimaced, awaiting this question. “I'd rather die than tell you because I think you guys at least have connections.”

“How’d you meet this douche anyways?” 

“I was studying art and design at a local uni, he was studying design briefly.” 

“You do graphic design?” Vessel asked, looking down at her quizzically. 

“Mostly art, but I want to turn it digital.” she responded, pulling out her phone to show him pictures. He studied each unique piece intricately, his face lighting up. A man who could appreciate real art. 

“How much would I have to pay you to design an album cover?” he asked, putting the phone down. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

 “What?” 

“I like your style, I'm offering you a chance to work with me.” he states bluntly, staring at her. “What the fu-” he cut her off, “we can get you head of the design team, i liked your work and i’m willing to pay however much.” 

“Don’t you have like.. bandmates to discuss this with?” 

“bandmate, others are tour personnel.” 

“Interesting- anyways, are you sure?” 

“Yes, Being on the design team also means you’re in charge of designing different things like merch, billboards and visuals. It sounds stressful, but the pay is good and you’ll have a chance to come on tour with us.” 

“Fuck man- take a girl out to dinner before telling her this” 

He chuckles, grabbing out a notepad. 

“I’ll write my details down, I can get you employed asap, if you want to do this.” 

“Do I have time?” she asked, rubbing her thighs anxiously. He nodded, Her phone rang and she fumbled to answer it, bringing the nearly dead phone to her ear. 

“Dude where the fuck are you-” 

It was her sister. 

“Hi, first off! I'm 23. I can be wherever I please, but can you please come pick me up?”

“Only you’d get a job opportunity out of hooking up with someone.” Nevada laughed, driving a ridiculously hungover Y/n home to their shared townhouse. “Hey- we are cool now! He’s a friend, and he said I could go on tour with him.” she retorts back.

“Are you trying to seek vengeance for noah?” Nevada asked, sipping shitty iced coffee. “Most definitely. That fucker thinks he can act like he didn’t tell me he loved me mid sex, he can suck it when im touring with his favourite band.” 

“Absolutely cold,” Nevada laughed, the hood was down of Dawn's convertible, the wind blowing through her wavy highlights. The air smelt of sea salt, the beach not being far from their house. She felt a little more free now, ultimately deciding to take up Vessel's offer, on both the album cover and design position. Although she would be leaving Nevada to manage the cafe on her own, Nevada knew she needed this. A push in the right direction, to make some new friends, and perhaps run into some old ones. 

Noahs POV 

Holy fucking shit maybe i wasn’t hallucinating. 

In the sea of fans you couldn’t miss her unmistakable red hair and plump lips. It seems as though she’s gotten even more botox from the last time he saw her. Why was she even here? What could she benefit from even being here? I had to peel my eyes away from her, trying to maintain the energy of the crowd. 

She was by herself, in a tight skirt and a bikini top. I saw her towards the back, but as I progressed through the store I noticed she was nowhere to be found. It was relieving and terrifying all at the same time.

We finished our set, sweat-drenched and exhausted, but riding the high of the music. Weaving between crew members, I entered the dressing room, boys in tow. 

“Hi” 

I jumped, turning around to face whoever was standing by the door. 

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled, stepping back as she stood forward. “Natasha, how did you get through?” Jolly stated, stepping closer to her. “I’m just here to see noah!” she smiled, veneers on full display, a coy smile across her red lips. “I don’t want to see you,” I sneered, arms crossed. 

“Come onnn noah! Lighten up!” A smile flashing over her face, she stepped forward, reaching for me. An all too familiar feeling pooling in my stomach. 

“Don’t.” Jolly said firmly, stepping between us. Anger rippled through me, not wanting to swing on a woman. My palms were sweaty, why does she want to talk? Nicholas appeared at the door. “Hey do you guys want to go- what the fuck?” 

Natasha stood between us, twirling strands of red hair. Nick fumbled with his phone to contact security, visibly looking stressed, I shot a look at Nicholas. “You know, I really miss you, Noah bear.” She smiles, her annoying voice hanging heavy in the air. “What the fu- Tash you fuckin cheated on him?” Nick piped up, putting his phone in his back pocket. I cringe at the nickname, rubbing a hand over my face. The tension was palpable, silence echoing through the corridor.

“Get out of here..” I grumble, thoroughly embarrassed. Her face feigns offence, “Noah, we were made for eachother!” Nicholas tensed in the doorway, each member uncomfortable with the old yet new presence.  “Get the fuck out of here Natasha.” He calls out, leaning against the doorframe, a pure look of disdain displayed on his face. 

“Boo! You guys all suck. Noah bear loves me, and he’ll come visit me at the Inn tonight!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. Beaming with some profound pride. “I don’t fuckin like you-” “stop denying it my love!!” she shouted, in the same moment, security burst through the door, grabbing her elbow roughly. 

She wriggled and shouted at them, her body thrashing about, not keen on being forcefully escorted out. I just sighed loudly, embarrassed. My tired body collapses down onto the leather couch. The commotion catches the attention of a few crew members, specifically matt. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. 

 “I still think she’s a porn star.”

TAGLIST: @emluvsuxo @lilcrazy011 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy @lma1986 @cheyyyyr @niicolelynn @looney-goose @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @supersquirrel1996

The next chapters are so not going to make sense. pray for me.

[villadiodatis]

Welcome to level 13, Bad Kids!

The stress of escaping Baron and the nightmare briefcase Mordred Manor has boosted the Bad Kids up to level 13! Let's take a look at what's new. (And if you're curious about what they did for levels 11 and 12, I've got you covered!)

Adaine: Wizard 13. She learns two new spells, which can now be 1st-7th level, and gets a 7th-level spell slot (in addition to the new spells she got in her downtime). We know one of these spells is Plane Shift! She has a bunch of options, and some of them are nasty, so I'm very excited to see what's in store. She can also now prepare 18 spells a day (previously 17).

Fabian: Fighter 6/Bard 7 (was Fighter 6/Bard 6). He learns a new spell, which can now be 1st-4th level, and gets a 4th-level spell slot. Options for him include Freedom of Movement, Dimension Door, Greater Invisibility, and Polymorph, among others.

Fig: Bard 10/Paladin 2/Warlock 1 (was Bard 9/Paladin 2/Warlock 1). She learns a new bard cantrip, gets a 6th-level spell slot, gains expertise (double proficiency bonus) in two skills, her Bardic Inspiration goes from a d8 to a d10, and she gains Magical Secrets--she can learn two spells (1st-6th level) from any class list!

Gorgug: Barbarian 6/Artificer 7 (was Barbarian 6/Artificer 6). He gets a third 2nd-level spell slot, as well as Flash of Genius, which lets him use a reaction to add his intelligence modifier (+3) to any ability check or saving throw made by him or by a creature within 30 feet of him. He can do this 3 times a day (equal to his intelligence modifier). We already saw him offer to use it this episode!

Kristen: Cleric 13. She gets a 7th-level spell slot and access to 7th level spells! These include Plane Shift (which we've already seen both her and Adaine use), Fire Storm, Resurrection, and Conjure Celestial, plus a few more. She can also now prepare 18 spells a day (previously 17).

Riz: Rogue 13. His sneak attack damage increases from 6d6 to 7d6, he gets two 3rd-level spell slots, and he can learn a new 1st-3rd level Enchantment or Illusion wizard spell. He also gains Versatile Trickster, which allows him to use a bonus action to distract a creature with his Mage Hand cantrip and gain advantage on attacks against them until the end of his turn.

Everyone's HP goes up and they get another hit die, but biggest at level 13 (total class level, not individual, so our multiclass kids aren't left out) is an increase to their proficiency bonus! Everyone's proficient skills, attack rolls, saving throws, and save DCs go up by one. For those of you enjoying Reliable Talent, this means Riz's minimum stealth roll is now a 25. My god.

Hope you enjoyed, see you next time, and as always please let me know if I’ve missed anything!

[fallingfor-fics]

Greed- Agatha Harkness x Reader

Im so excited for HOH!! here is a short angsty one inspired by a song, you get a virtual kiss if you guess it.

Warnings: none, angst

Word Count: 1k

Summary: You arent gonns stick around while Agatha fights Wanda.

“I don't think you are hearing what I am saying.” Agatha let out in a huff, shaking her head and looking away. You weren’t getting anywhere in this conversation and you were ready to just give up. 

“Fine. If you want to keep fucking with this town, and her be my guest but im getting the fuck out of here. I'm not going to sit and beg you any longer.” You scoffed and stood up from the couch, heading upstairs to collect your things.

“Y/n wait.” Agatha yelled after, following you up the stairs, but you didn't respond and just reached for your luggage. “I don't have a choice. I have to stop her.” she said with her voice slightly strained.

“But you aren't trying to stop her, Agatha!” You snapped, raising your voice slightly as you turned to look at her, “you are trying to take her power for yourself.” you shook your head and her brows furrowed as her upper lip twitched.

“What? I don't-'' she started but she quickly read your expression and sighed, “she wont know how to handle that power, but I do know how, i'm the only person that can do this.” You knew how powerful Agatha was, but you always believed you were somewhat equals, she was only a few hundred years older than you, but you had mastered your craft. 

You looked at her with displeasure and she sighed. “I didn't mean it like that Y/n.”

“I'm going. Find me if you make it out of this.” You sighed, turning to use a spell to finish your packing.

“Baby please just trust me.” Agatha came to stand closer, her hands resting on your waist, she turned you to face her, and she rested her forehead on yours. You closed your eyes and sighed, a knot forming in your throat. 

“I love you Agatha…but I have worked too hard and gone through too much shit, to die this way.” you stated and moved away from her to grab some other items. 

“God, Y/n I need you to fucking listen to me for once. It will be fine, no one will die, it won't change anything. I need you here by my side.” she begged and you could tell she was being genuine. However you knew she was wrong, things would be so different. 

“And I need you to learn to get over yourself” you let out softly but with a firm tone as you turned to look at her. She scoffed and crossed her arms, shaking her head as she looked at you, “You are obsessed with Wanda. You are upset that she was chosen to be the scarlet witch, and now you want the power for yourself. Because God forbid there be someone who is more powerful than you. Well news flash, there is a whole league of them nowadays. So quit trying to be someone you're not.” You finished, your face red and your lungs out of breath from your tangent. Agatha let out a cackle before stepping closer to you. 

“I could take out any one of those unitard-wearing, lab rat, mother fuckers, Y/n. Just like I can take out Wanda. Just like I could take out.. You.” she said with a harsh tone, her words started to come out fast and by the end of her response she had started to get more angry. Her words were fighting to get out as she clenched her fist and pointed a finger at you. Your jaw dropped slightly and you scoffed. 

“You know what Agatha, you better hope Wanda kills you. ‘Cause if you survive, and you let this power consume you, which we know you will, I will come and kill you myself just to prove you wrong.” You looked at her with cold eyes as the venomous words left your lips. You stepped back in realization of what you had said. Shock filled your veins but you were more alarmed by the fact you really meant what you had just said. Agatha just looked at you. You observed her face so hard, the face you had memorized, the face you had seen everyday for so many years. No matter how long you looked or how hard you searched for signs, you couldn't read her expression, you couldn't read her. 

After a few moments you felt your cheeks burn and a knot form in your throat. Agatha stood still, her eyes not leaving yours as she sat pondering, trying to decide what to do, what to say to convince you to stay. She didn't care that you had just said what you had said. She wasn't surprised by these reactions. What surprised her was the level of stubbornness you were showing. Agatha loved you for many reasons, but one of them was loving you for how much you loved her. She had you around her finger and she loved it because you loved it too. She loved being demanding and you loved obeying. People always wanted stuff from her and would never give back, but you, there wasn't anything you wouldn't do for her. 

Except this. 

“Y/n, Please. I need you to just try to understand, are you really going to throw our whole life away because I want something?” She stopped, getting closer to you and cupping your face, you instinctively relaxed your face into her hands. She pulled you in for a kiss and you didnt fight it. She kissed softly, her smooth lips moving against yours as you kissed back, unable to resist her. There was a soft and pure love in that kiss and when you realized you pulled away softly, looking down with a frown, her hands still on your cheeks. She shook her head with a laugh. 

“I mean everyone has something they want, baby.” she quipped as her voice grew louder. You felt tears finally fill your eyes and you let out a shaky sigh, looking at her with sad eyes as you backed away from her grasp. 

Choking through your dry throat you spoke softly as you looked at her with love and pity. “I just wanted you, Agatha.” Yousaid simply and turned to head downstairs, collecting your things and loading them into your car. You left before she could say another word, and watched your rearview as you drove away, waiting to see her but all you saw was the empty road.

--

slay that was fun to write

someone should take this idea and make a full fic for it and credit and tag me bc this plot would destroy me

[daimyosprincess]

PART I: FOREWORD

—PAIRING: Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—SERIES RATING: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—SUMMARY: When the new Mandalorian studies professor Boba Fett comes into the university library looking for help, you’re more than happy to be of assistance.

—WORD COUNT: 6.4k

—TAGS & WARNINGS: second person narration, no use of y/n, references to sexual themes, alternate universe, professor!Boba, age gap relationship between an older man and younger woman (reader is mid-twenties and Boba is late forties), bisexual reader, reader described as having hair, alcohol consumption by reader and others, GRATUITOUS flirting (like a ridiculous amount), use of pet names

—AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here it is, my first ever posted fic! I'm so excited to share this with y'all, it's been so much fun to write. Thank you for all your support for this series. Enjoy the Boba brainrot with me :)

Read on AO3 — Series Masterlist — Taglist

Part II>

The university library is dead—classes aren’t in session and things are slow. The afternoon summer sun streams through the building’s tall windows, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the golden light. The faint rustle of papers turning is the only sound filling the idle air other than you and your coworker’s chatting at the circulation desk. 

“No, I’m telling you there’s no good guys to date here. They’re all either emotionally unavailable or terrible in bed… or both,” your friend Selena gripes. She’s exasperated by the most recent of her flings ghosting her after their last hookup. 

Swirling your iced coffee, you roll your eyes. “Well maybe you need to expand your dating pool, there’s more out there than just twenty-something guys who spend all their time in the gym.” You grin knowingly at your friend—she definitely has a type.

She throws an elbow at you. “Hey! Not all of us are into girls and men old enough to be our dads! Speaking of which…” she cuts off, wiggling her perfect eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice calls from behind your back, “is there a librarian I can speak to about reserving my course materials?” The voice’s vowels lilt and come together like sand being molded by an ocean wave, powerful yet graceful—it’s a voice that could warm you in sunny, shallow waters or drown you in a raging storm.

All but choking on your coffee, you spin to face the front desk. Standing on the other side of the counter is the most handsome man you think you’ve ever seen: copper skin, white teeth, and dark eyes stand atop a crisp linen shirt rolled up to reveal thick, strong forearms. Pale, silvered scars crisscross his skin, glinting in the light, making him look equally dangerous and enticing, like a trap baited with everything you’ve ever wanted.

Shit, he could get me in a lot of trouble… and I’d let him. You clear your throat, doing your best to recover with at least some of your dignity intact��a difficult task when the absolute god of a man before you just heard that you’re definitely into men his age. 

Selena, however, beats you to an answer. “Yes, sir, that would be my coworker here,” she answers in a sing-song voice, “she’s more than happy to help you with anything you need.” You shoot her a dirty look as she flounces away back to her desk in the back, her attitude completely unapologetic.

Being the flirt you are, you did fully intend to hit on this handsome professor, but that’s not the point. Rallying your thoughts, you flash him a dazzling smile. “Yes, I certainly am,” you confirm. “What can I do for you, professor…?” Your voice trails off in anticipation of his response, and you catch the dark gleam in his coffee-colored eyes. 

“Fett, Boba Fett. Professor of Mandalorian studies,” he answers smoothly, his rich timbre confident and unphased by you and Selena’s antics.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, professor,” you respond, matching his blithe tone. You introduce yourself with your name and title as the research materials librarian.

He smirks, flicking his eyes over your frame in a casual, yet interested, way. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” When his eyes meet yours again, they flicker with amber fire, bright and tempting.

You let his compliment hang in the sunlit air between you for a moment, gauging whether he too felt the electric connection buzzing between you two. Judging by the glint in his eye and quirk of his lips, he did.

Game on. “Well, usually faculty submit their materials for purchase and reservation at the end of the previous school year or at the beginning of the summer session,” you inform him with an overly patronizing tone. “But I suppose I can make an exception for you since you’re being so polite.” You end your statement with a wink, inviting him in to test the waters.  

Taking your hint, he leans his muscled arms on the high lip of the desk, bringing himself closer into your space. “You’re too kind. Things have been a little difficult since I’m new to the school and wasn’t in the country until last week… and I’d really appreciate your help, princess.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like spiced honey, hot and sweet.

  Your brows arch up and you run your tongue over teeth behind your lips as you consider the handsome professor. Most men you meet are either too intimidated or too stupid to give you a fair fight, but this Boba Fett… he might just be the one. Without saying much, he’s said it all: true power doesn’t need to be defended because it speaks for itself. His innate confidence makes your stomach tighten and your blood run hot—this is going to be even more fun than you first thought. “Why don’t you come into my office and I can see what all I can do for you, Professor Fett,” you offer with a flirty smile.

“Please,” he entreats with a saccharine smile, “call me Boba.”

Leaning against your doorframe, Boba shoulders his leather satchel, his broad shoulders rippling under the material of his shirt. The muscles in his arms carve out valleys in his marked skin, making your mind race with the thought of how those arms would feel around you, lifting you up, or pinning you down beneath him. The way he totally fills up the space around him is enough to send heat between your legs, and the snatches of fantasy only heighten the desire simmering in your core. You’ve done everything you can to help the professor at the moment, but neither of you seem too keen on parting just yet, much to your satisfaction. 

“So how old are you, then?” he asks, eyeing you tilted back in your chair below him.

You’d teased him about his thesis date being long before your birth while you chatted as you submitted his materials requests. “Why, professor,” you taunt, looking up at him from heavy-lidded eyes, “are you trying to make sure I’m at least eighteen?”

He answers with a devil’s grin. “No, just trying to see whether or not I’m old enough to be your father.”

Yep, he definitely heard that earlier, you groan internally as heat pricks up your neck. Not one to be beaten so easily, however, you lazily trail your eyes down to his left hand braced on your door, a smirk splitting your face when you don’t find a ring. “As long as you’re single, I’m twenty-six.”

“And if I’m not?” he counters, cocking his head in pointed curiosity.

You pray to whoever might be listening that he is because you might not survive temptation much longer, not with the way he’s looking at you like you’re the sweetest dessert he’s ever seen. “Well then, I’d be twenty-six and disappointed.” 

He snorts, shaking his head with a deliciously low chuckle. “You really are something, aren’t you, little one?”

Your stomach flips at his continued use of the sweet names, but you swallow it down. Boba Fett is a test you intend on passing and that means you have to keep your wits about you.  “I have been told I can be quite the handful. Hope that's not a problem… don’t think it would be for you, though,” you reply, looking him up and down meaningfully and letting your eyes linger on the fabric stretched tight over his biceps. He’s built like a kriffing brick wall, thick and solid, and you want to climb him to the very top. 

The sultry look he gives you makes you think he’d let you, too. “After forty-seven years, princess, I don't think it would be.”

That same hum of charged energy of your initial meeting fills your office as your gaze falls into line with the intense depth of his own. You were wrong before, he’s not looking at you like you’re dessert. You’re prey, soft and open, and he’s the predator tracking you deeper and deeper in the forest, far away so no one would hear your shriek when sunk his teeth into your flesh. 

But did prey ever want to be torn apart by its hunter? You roll your lips together, squeezing your thighs against the embers of desire flickering to life between them. 

A few moments later, your computer chirps with an email notification and you blink back to reality, the tension fizzling out into the surrounding air. Probably for the best since I’m about ten seconds away from jumping this man's bones in my office. Straightening up in your seat, you clear your throat. “Same time tomorrow, then, professor?”

“If it’s not a problem,” he shrugs, his heated gaze betraying his nonchalance, “I know you’re a busy girl.”

He’s clearly enjoying calling you everything but your name and you, much to your surprise, are lapping it up. In an attempt to even the score, you push up from your chair, snatching up one of your business cards from your desk and scribbling your cell number on the back. Sauntering over to him stretched out in your door, you stop just a little closer than absolutely necessary. You slip the piece of paper into his front pocket, pleased with the way the muscle in his jaw twinges at the contact. “Oh, no, it’s no problem at all,” you practically purr, “At the university, we want to make sure our new faculty enjoy everything the library has to offer.” 

He huffs in amusement, not moving away. “Your efforts should be rewarded, then,” he notes, his voice like rich molasses, “You’ve been nothing but eager.”

Before you can stop the impish impulse, you rattle off your usual coffee order. The worst he can say is no, but something tells you he’s willing to indulge you just a bit more than most would.

He tilts his head to the side, his lips twitching into a smile in understanding a second later. “Size?”

“As much as you’re willing to give me,” you wink, flipping your pen between your fingers under your chin. You’d like to think he’d indulge you in that too, but you don’t want to get ahead of yourself.

“Don’t worry,” he assures, his voice like bittersweet woodsmoke, “I’ll make sure you get everything you deserve.” The promises laced through his words like invisible threads, weaving together images of love-bruised skin and rough hands pressed into soft flesh.  

You swallow thickly, and almost groan in embarrassment when his eyes track the bob of your throat with a smug look. “You could get a man into trouble, little one. A lot of trouble…” 

He shoves off the doorframe, his face swaying dangerously close to yours as he turns to leave. “See you tomorrow, princess.” He says the words like a promise rather than a casual expression.

“Oh, professor?” you call out after him. You can’t let this man come out of your office thinking he’s won your little game, your pride simply won’t allow it—and neither will the lurid desire bubbling up from somewhere deep within you. You want to push him, needle him until he snaps, poke the bear until he takes a swipe. Not very smart for someone who’s definitely the prey.

He turns to face you as if he had been hoping you’d stop him. “Yes?”

“You should know,” you bait, letting your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up in wicked pleasure, “I like trouble.”

Every day since your electrifying meeting has been an excuse to see him: hand delivering something that could have been interofficed, calling his office phone and inviting him to look over some course book in person, or volunteering to give him a tour of campus that happened to include lunch together. Boba’s like a burning sun and you’ve been ensnared in his orbit, your every phase and season given life by his heat.

When you couldn’t find an excuse to be around him, he found one; he came to make copies in the library because his department’s machine “never seems to work right,” the coffee shop gave him an extra pastry he “couldn’t possibly eat,” or the darn databases wouldn’t let him log in and you’re the “only one who can get them to work.” Even when your extensive partnership gathering his course materials came to an end, Boba was quick to offer you a spot in his office to work while last minute construction went on in the library before the start of the fall semester.

Boba’s office is tucked away at the end of a long hall in the gothic-style humanities building and quickly becomes your own personal sanctuary for the remainder of the summer. Its soaring ceiling and long, arched window gave a sense of lightness to the corner space, the natural light reflecting off the pale walls. Brass lamps with warm, golden light keep the room cozy when clouds roll in, along with the sumptuous oriental rug spread over the stone floor. Boba’s furniture is functional and comfortable; a large, sorrel leather couch sits perpendicular against the wall from his sturdy oak desk, accompanied by matching armchairs facing him for visitors. The walls are lined with bookshelves and cabinets housing his impressive personal library and mementos from his illustrious life.

It’s in this ivory tower oasis that your heart begins to grow into a softer shape and your mind settles into the rough-hewn grooves of the professor’s tides. The power of him both rouses and relieves, stirs and soothes; the shards of you are made into soft seaglass by the roll and drag of his waves against the sand. And oh, how you’re tempted to let him pull you under the glassy surface, to submit and let his current tow you to blissful paradise. You yearn to provoke his storms as well as seek his shelter from the harsh creatures of everyday life—you’re sure he’s going to be the end of you.

The week before classes start you’re slouched comfortably across the couch in his office. Sunlight dapples the room in a saffron glow through the forked leaves of ivy hugging the window as you’re half-heartedly responding to the numerous last minute item requests from harried professors. While most of them are smart enough to be polite, quite a few have decided to be rude, pain in the asses instead. 

You grumble loudly, throwing your head back against the cushion behind you. Your frustration is not helped by the fact Boba is extra good looking today, his white shirt is practically glowing against his sun-kissed skin and open a button lower than usual for the breezy weather—not that you noticed those kinds of things about him. Just like you definitely weren’t aching for his attention that’s currently wrapped up in class prep.

“Why do all these professors expect me to drop everything to attend to their specific requests like I have nothing better to do?” you huff, massaging your temples with your fingertips. “I do have an actual job besides course reserves.”

Looking over a pair of reading glasses, Boba leans back in his chair, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Must have seen you doing it for me, princess.”

You blow out a dismissive sound and roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, you’re different.” Snapping your laptop closed, you manage to keep the pleased smile from turning up your lips. You have Boba’s attention now, just like you really wanted.

“Mmm, different how?” he hums, his intense gaze now trained on your face.

The heat of his assured, teasing confidence makes your guts churn. While your mutual physical attraction to one another is surely evident to both of you, you’ve been doing your best to hide the fact that he holds your heart in his hands too. No use ruining the good thing you have going with the handsome professor by admitting you have an honest-to-god crush with feelings.

Rolling over on your side so you can prop your head up on your hand, you find Boba entirely too smug for your liking. Putting on your most innocent face, you blink up at him with wide doe eyes. “Oh, you know me, professor, always happy to help you older folks figure out all the complicated technology involved in getting your books.” Despite your efforts, you can’t help cracking a grin at the end of your sentence.

That sparks the fire you hoped it would in Boba, his eyes glittering and his posture shifting forward in response to your goading. “Watch it, princess. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Heaven help me, he looks so kriffing good, his shoulders alone make me want to risk it all. “Don’t worry,” you grin, “I’ve never had any trouble swallowing what’s in my mouth.”

“Well, well, well,” a rich female voice interjects from the door, making you jerk upright. “If it isn’t the new Mandalorian studies professor going at it with the pretty little librarian. I should’ve known that I couldn’t trust you around her, Fett.”

“Fennec!” you exclaim, relief dousing your prickling surprise: she knew you were a tease. You scramble off the lounge and throw your arms around your friend. “It’s Wednesday,” you state, perplexed, “I thought you wouldn’t be back from your trip until Friday?”

She wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a satisfying hug. “Missed you too much, kitten, had to come back a little early,” she answers with her usual flirtatiousness. You don’t miss the way she winks at Boba over your shoulder as her palms slide over the small of your back when she pulls away. You secretly hope it will make him a little jealous.

“Never met a beautiful girl you didn’t try to seduce, have you Shand?” Boba pipes up from behind you, his tone familiar.

Your heart rate spikes at his compliment but you tamp down the heat threatening to creep up your face. Stepping back, you swing your head back and forth between the two professors. “You two know each other?”

Flicking her long braid over her shoulder, Fennec smiles, throwing a puckish look at the man behind the desk. “Oh, Boba and I go way back, long before either of us cleaned up and joined academia. Who do you think got him a job here?” she quips, sinking her weight onto her hip with her usual air of unapologetic fortitude.

“I got myself a job here,” Boba cracks back, his grumbling making it obvious he’s accustomed to Fennec’s ribbing.

She shrugs, grinning. “Don’t discount the power of a good word on the inside.” Slinging an arm around your shoulder, she loudly whispers in your ear, “What’s a pretty thing like you doing with a man like him anyways, kitten? Thought I taught you better than that.”

“Kark off, Shand,” Boba huffs, and Fennec throws her hands up in front of her chest in a showy apology.

Letting his languid gaze slide over to you, Boba studies the curves and planes of your body, mapping out each. You can’t squash the tingling glow buzzing in your chest at his attention, and your eyes sink down under fluttering lashes, your resolve weakened. “She’s a smart girl, she knows what she wants,” he finally says, releasing you from his inspection to smirk at his colleague.

The heat in your lower belly flares hot and wanting at his passive claim over you. Shit. Sometimes you wish he’d just shove your clothes aside and bend you over the nearest flat surface to take you for himself. Dangerous thoughts like those keep you up at night, wishing it his fingers pumping in and out of your pussy instead of your own. 

You drop back down onto the couch to buy yourself a second to regroup. Kicking your feet up in an act of collected indifference, you drawl, “Aw, don't you two go fighting over me, there’s plenty to go around.”

“Yeah, but Boba doesn’t like to share,” Fennec snorts.

You grin up at the dark-haired woman and prop your computer back on your thighs. “Good thing we’re just friends then, Fenn.”

“Lucky him,” she chuckles. Straightening up and drawing a breath, her jovial expression settles into something more sincere. “Well, I’ve got plenty to do for classes next week, just wanted to stop by when I heard your voices. It’s good to see you again.”

Genuine affection spreads in your chest as you look up at your friend; for all her teasing and bluster, Fennec has a heart of gold. “Glad you made it back safe, Fenn, we’ll get coffee and catch up soon,” you promise with a candid smile.

“Sounds good, let me know if you ever want some better looking company.” She winks at you then tosses her head in Boba’s direction. “Always a pleasure to see you still in one piece, Fett.”

Despite his glowering expression, Boba’s voice is warm. “Same to you, Shand. Just remember to always watch your back.” The sound of the dark-haired woman’s throaty laugh echoes down the hallway as she heads towards her office. 

When you look back at Boba, his mahogany eyes are already on you. They’re watching, as they often are, like you’re some fascinating phenomenon that might disappear if he doesn’t recommit it to memory repeatedly. “So you and Fennec are friends,” he states simply, leaning forward on his elbows. There’s something expectant in his tone, his demeanor hinting at anticipation. It makes the cozy atmosphere of the office crackle with intent.

You learned rather quickly that there was little use in trying to figure out Boba when he didn’t want to be figured, so you relax back into the couch and play along. “Yeah, she’s one of the first people I met when I started at the university. She took me under her wing and helped me find my way around here, she’s a good friend.” Before you can think better of it, you add, “But she’s only ever been a friend, despite what she might hint at.”

A small smile chips through the stony set to his features that makes your heart skip a beat. “Well that’s good to hear. Raises my hopes for your answer to my next question.” The richness of his voice belies any nervousness, if a man like him even feels such a thing. He always seems so sure, always in total control. 

Was he jealous of Fennec? Your mouth goes dry and you force your easy smile to stay in place; Boba’s focus is zeroed in on you and you'd rather die than slip up in front of him—he'd enjoy it far too much. “Oh, do tell, professor. I'm all ears,” you urge, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your cool with passing success.

His lips twitch up, amused with your brashness. “You’ve been more than helpful these past four weeks, little one,” he begins, “I couldn't have gotten everything done for my classes or had the peace of mind to get properly settled here.”

“Really, it's no problem, I don't-”

Boba raises a hand for silence and your jaw clicks shut in quick obedience—much to your embarrassment and his obvious pleasure. “Whether you mind or not,” he continues, “or if you feel it's your job, I greatly appreciate all your efforts.” He studies you for a moment and it feels like he can see right through to your insides. “Can I take you to dinner at the Vineyard this Saturday, to thank you for all you've done?”

Genuine surprise releases a stream of words pouring from your lips before you can even register them. “The Vineyard? Downtown? It’s so fancy, you don't have to do that. I mean it's like $100 dinners and-”

“You deserve it, princess. I told you you'd get everything you deserve, remember?” Boba smiles, the corners of eyes crinkling in a fond expression. “Plus, I enjoy your company… and I think you enjoy mine, too.”

Your poor heart is beating so hard in your ribs you’re sure Boba's able to hear it. The safety of him and his space have disarmed your usual defenses, sanded down the spear of your tongue; it’s equal parts freeing and terrifying, uncharted territory ripe with possibilities and danger. You’re left unable to deny his assertion—or form any real words—so you opt to arch a brow instead. 

“Don’t play coy, little one,” he chastens, his firm words and velvet tone skating over your heated skin. “I know construction in the library finished last week, yet you're still spending all your days in my office.”

Biting your lip, you do your best to look surprised. “Oh, really? I must have, uh, missed the memo on that,” you try lamely, scratching at the back of your neck. It’s a weak defense but it’s all you can muster at the moment, only half your brain is available to cobble together a response; the other half is too busy fighting the urge to leap over his desk and into his lap.

Boba chuffs a laugh, his handsome face all too knowing and his deep eyes sparkling with amusement—and maybe something darker, more sensual if you could bear to look. His reaction does, however, kick-start your customary attitude. 

Crossing your arms over your chest, you fix him with the most sardonic look you can. “Well, I didn’t see you complaining, professor.” You tack on an eye roll for good measure as it never fails to get a reaction from him. And, oh, how you wanted to get one out of him, be the reason he’s loses his cool. Just the mere thought of it makes you ache.

Cocking his head to the side, he has the gall to look like he’s already won. “Why would I complain about getting what I want?” His face is drawn in a question, but his eyes flash with the answer.

“Well, you… you, er,” you stammer, suddenly unable to find a foothold. Boba had shaken the very earth beneath you with his admission, it has scattered your mind and rattled the bedrock of your resolve. The familiar nagging, forbidden desire to give in, to submit wells up in your throat; it would be easy, sinfully easy, to give up the fight and let Boba win. But easy’s never been my thing, has it?

Rolling back your shoulders, you mount your last stand. You let your head loll over to look at him directly, your eyes peeking out at him from under hooded lids. “And just what do you want, Boba Fett?” you answer, your voice husky and weighted.

The air itself thickens around you, dampening the outside world to something far away and unimportant as Boba contemplates his response. This is the impasse the two of you had been circling all along, choosing to precariously balance your brash determination against his indomitable will rather than risk tipping the scales. The only true solution is for one of you to give, but neither of you had yet been willing to break.

Finally, Boba’s lips part, a quick tongue darting out to wet the chapped skin. “I want,” he starts, low and deliberate, “to take you out to a nice dinner, have a good glass of wine… and have you all to myself.”

His words are etched in crystalline honesty and thus you have no choice but to respond in kind, even if it only skirts your shared quandary. “Then who am I to deny you, professor?”

The rest of the week might as well not have even happened as far as you're concerned—all that mattered was making it to Saturday. Boba had dangled the promise of sweet reward in front of you and seemed content to watch you flounder your way to it over the intervening days. It also didn’t help that Selena could not shut up about it, even now as she’s standing behind you, pinning and primping your hair to her liking.

“Ooo, I can’t believe it’s really happening!” she squeals, sliding another bobby pin into place against your scalp. “You and the hot professor, going on a date to a romantic restaurant all dressed up! I bet he’s going to invite you back to his place after. Do you think he has a big… you know?”

“If you never finish with my hair, I’ll never have to know,” you grumble. Now that the time has nearly come, you’re about sick to your stomach with all the overthinking you’ve done. You almost talked yourself out of going three times before Selena even came over to help you get ready.

“Hey, none of that sad shit,” she chides, pointing a hairbrush at you in the mirror. “You’ve been dying to go on this date all week, you’ve just got a little case of nerves. Totally normal.”

“But what if he doesn’t actually see this as a date? He never actually said it was. Or what if he really just wants to sleep with me and ditch me after this?” You groan, flopping back against your vanity chair miserably. Your earlier suspicions about his mutual feelings for you had soured—now you’re not even sure he likes you. 

Selena thwacks the back of the head. “Ow!” you yelp, glaring at her in your reflection.

“Pull yourself together. Anyone within a mile radius of you two can tell you’re crazy about each other. Now sit still so I can get these pieces even,” she orders, centering you in the mirror with her hands on your shoulders. You do as she says, focusing on the practiced movements of her hands as a distraction for the feeling in your gut.

By the time you pull on your dress and slip into your shoes, you’re beginning to come back around to your usual self, likely in part due to the shot of tequila Selena convinced you to take with her—not that you needed much convincing to begin with. 

She hypes you up as she fastens the clasp of your necklace around your throat. “Shit, girl, you look hot! I’m not sure he’s going to be able to take his eyes off you long enough to drive to the restaurant.” 

“I do look good don’t I?” You flash yourself a smile in the mirror. After a trip to the mall yesterday, you and Selena had decided on a simple black satin slip dress and matching strappy heels. The deep “V” of the neckline and snug fit around your hips gave the dress just enough sex appeal while still being elegant. Twisting around, you check the lines of the dress in the back. “It’s too bad no one can see these panties, they’re so cute.”

“Oh, someone’s going to be seeing them alright,” Selena giggles from her perch on the end of your bed.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the girlish grin turning up the corners of your mouth at her insinuation. Shit, I hope he rips them off me. “Only if I decide he deserves to.”

“There she is, there’s the girl we know and love. Give him hell!” 

Your phone dings on your bedside table and your friend snatches it up before you can get to it. “Hey! Give it!” you demand, grabbing at the device.

Sliding up the bed out of your reach, Selena hunches around your phone. “He’s here! And he sent a bunch of heart emojis.”

Your nerves tingle in cold-hot anticipation, your face going slack in disbelief. “He did?!”

Selena bursts into laughter. “No, I’m just messing with you, he just said he’s outside.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you groan, snatching away your phone. “Go ahead and see if I keep helping you come up with texts to send all your gym rat side pieces.”

She lays a hand on her chest, feigning shock. “You would never. Now get out there and blow his socks off, or you know, whatever else you want to blow.” She smirks suggestively, shooing you towards the door. “I’ll lock up, now out out out.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” Your heart hammers in your chest and you consider another shot of tequila before dismissing it—no need to set yourself up to be any hornier than you already are for the Mandalorian professor. Slinging your purse over your shoulder, you’re out the door.

Leaning against a sleek midnight black Audi is Boba Fett in all his glory, dressed in a well-fitted pressed shirt (with the sleeves rolled up, damn him) and gray slacks. His salt and pepper stubble and dark eyes make his already handsome face look even better. Catching your appearance in the doorway, he juts his chin up in greeting, his eyes sliding over you in obvious pleasure. “Evening, princess.”

He holds out an arm and you take it to step off the curb, testing his muscles underneath your fingers as you do; if Boba notices, thankfully he doesn’t say it. He opens the passenger door and you step in, settling down onto the supple leather of the lush interior. 

He doesn’t close the door right away, instead standing and clearly enjoying the view down your dress. You glare up at him in mock annoyance. “You gonna stare like a dirty old man or are you going to take me to dinner, professor?”

“You’re the one who got all dressed up for a dirty old man, sweetheart, I figured you'd want me to enjoy it,” he replies smoothly, his lips quirking into a smirk as he shuts the door before you can manage a response.

Yep, these panties don’t stand a chance.

“So, Fennec tells me you were some sort of deadly mercenary gun-for-hire before you settled down to teach the impressionable young minds of university students,” you smile cheekily over your glass of wine, swirling the sparkling contents around the cup’s curves. “That true?” Stars help me if it is, I don’t know if he can get any sexier.

The evening air is crisp and warm, a mild sea-breeze rustling the hem of your dress under the table. The scene laid out around you is so terribly romantic you have to pinch yourself a few times to make sure it’s not all part of the best dream you’ve ever had. Tables for two are scattered over a stone patio overlooking the sunsetted ocean, with glowing candles in their centerpieces and string lights criss-crossed overhead illuminating the space with soft light. 

Boba lets out an exasperated sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Of course she did. Don’t believe everything she says about me, she loves to tell a good story.”

“Avoiding the question, are we?”

“Sure you don’t want any dessert?”

“Aww, come on Boba, pleeease? Please tell me,” you whine playfully, sticking out your bottom lip for extra effect. He hadn’t denied you anything yet tonight—and you intend on keeping it that way. 

He sighs, resigned to his fate. “You’re going to be the death me, you know that, princess?” You squeal a pleased sound and lean in conspiratorially on both your elbows, eager to hear his answer. Tossing his napkin from his lap onto the table, he leans against the back of his chair and props his arm up, gazing at you over the candlelight. “I’ll tell you, but you have to answer a question of mine if I do. Deal?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you nod, blinking your eyes down to his crotch and back up to his face slowly so he’s sure to notice. “Yeah, we have a deal. Spill it.”

True to his word, Boba recounts what you’re sure is a heavily abridged version of his life before becoming a teacher. He was born on a rainy little island called Kamino and lost his father young. While his father was a Mandalorian, Boba himself didn’t necessarily consider himself to be one, hinting that he hadn’t felt the most welcome by his father’s people when he visited the island of Mandalore before it’d been nearly wiped off the face of the earth. 

Alone in the Mandalorian diaspora, Boba had turned to what he knew best to make his way in the world: fighting. Working protection gigs, “recovering property” (which no doubt was not entirely legal), and retrieving missing or abducted persons, he made a name for himself in that world as the best since his old man. It was also how he met Fennec, who apparently was one of the best espionage mercs money could buy, and why he had a ridiculous amount of money for a college professor.

“So why did you go into teaching then?” you ask, pushing your now empty glass aside. “Kind of an interesting choice considering your… previous profession.”

“Didn’t plan on it.” Boba drains the rest of his glass and sets it next to yours. “After one too many close calls, though, I knew I couldn't continue that life. All of that wasn’t-isn’t the legacy I want to leave behind. The death of my father and his heritage might have been out of my control, but I will not let it be in vain. So I took what I knew, learned what I didn’t, and started teaching in Mandalorian studies.”

You two sit in silence for a while, watching the tide roll in under the silver gleam of the moon. “Thank you for sharing.” Your voice is almost a whisper, “I’m sorry to hear about your dad. He would've been so proud to see the person you’ve become, I’m sure of it.”

Boba tilts his head to the side, studying you as if you’ve said the most interesting thing the world has ever heard. “Thank you… that’s kind of you to say,” he answers quietly, as if he doesn’t quite believe you himself. The careful look in his eye makes you wonder what other secret burdens the handsome professor bears in silence. Even more so, it makes you want to shoulder some of it, or at least provide him some sort of relief.

The table off to your right bursts into hoots of laughter and the dusky spell between you is broken. You blink the haze out of your eyes and Boba clears his throat. 

“Time to pay up, sweetheart. It’s my turn to ask you a question,” he smiles, his white teeth catching the flickering candlelight. The faraway solemnity in his eyes is replaced with dark heat.

“Go right ahead, I’m all yours,” you grin back, “ask away.”

Signaling your server for the check with two fingers, Boba leans forward, taking your hand in his large one. “Tell me, little princess, am I dropping you back at yours after this, or are you coming home with me?” 

—Endnotes: I don’t know anything about cars, I just know that Audi is a fancy car brand, at least in the US. Don’t judge me 😭. Also I guess this is a coastal university. I don't have a name for the school yet though, what do y'all think?

Part II>

[vampireimiko]

omg could you a write a steve harrington x reader where the kids meet her not knowing that she’s dating steve (maybe set when he’s working at scoops with robin) and they find out they’re dating and are basically like “how did yall start dating, she’s wayyy too cool for you” and they’re like straight clowning him

Girlfriend ?!

warnings, none!

note, this was so fun to write oh my god 😭 it's been finished for a few days but i started slacking up on formatting these to post 😓

“Oof, excuse me!” you said, surprised, as you bumped into someone while navigating the crowded mall.

“It’s okay, we’re good,” Dustin responded, trying to sound nonchalant despite the fact that he had nearly tripped over his own feet.

“Yeah, it’s cool!” Lucas added quickly, giving you a brief, awkward smile.You flashed them a warm smile in return, not noticing the way Dustin’s and Lucas’s eyes widened slightly.

“Sorry about that! Busy day, huh?” you said, your tone light and friendly.

“Uh, yeah,” Dustin stammered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “No worries.”

As you continued on your way, they exchanged a look, still processing the encounter. Lucas was the first to recover, nudging Dustin. “Dude, was that Y/N?”

Dustin blinked, his brain catching up to what just happened. “No way,” he muttered, more to himself than to Lucas. “That was Y/N?”

“I think so,” Lucas replied, his voice laced with a mix of awe and disbelief. “She was, like, the coolest girl in Hawkins High, What’s she doing here?”

“I don’t know, man, but that was definitely her,” Dustin said, still trying to wrap his head around it. “And she just talked to us. Like, it was no big deal.”

They stood there for a moment, staring in the direction you had gone, when Lucas suddenly noticed where you were headed. “Wait... is she going to Scoops Ahoy?”

Dustin turned to look, his eyes narrowing as he saw you approaching the ice cream shop. “Why would she be—” His words trailed off as realization dawned on him. “No way.”

They watched in stunned silence as you walked up to the counter, where Steve Harrington was busy serving customers. You leaned over the counter with a bright smile, and Steve’s face lit up the moment he saw you. He quickly handed off his task to Robin and stepped out to greet you.

“Dude, are you seeing this?” Lucas whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"I'll see you later, hot stuff!" Steve exclaimed, a playful grin lighting up his face as he leaned in to kiss you goodbye. His lips brushed yours briefly, but the warmth lingered long after he pulled away. With a final wink, he adjusted the Scoops Ahoy hat perched on his head and headed back into the ice cream shop.

"Have a good day, I love you!" you called after him, giggling as you watched him disappear through the door. You turned, still smiling, and started down the bustling mall corridor. You had a list of things to buy for your date night with Steve, and you were excited to surprise him with his favorite snacks and a new mixtape.

As you strolled through the busy mall, unbeknownst to you, a pair of wide eyes followed your every move.

From behind a row of potted plants, Dustin peered out, his jaw practically on the floor. "Lucas, I'm telling you there's no way she's with Steve!" he cried out in utter disbelief. He ducked back down quickly, glancing at Lucas, who was crouched beside him, equally stunned. "There’s no way someone as cool and as hot as her is dating The Steve Harrington."

Lucas rolled his eyes, barely suppressing a laugh. "Well, why the hell did they just kiss, Dustin?!" he hissed, giving Dustin a sharp flick on the forehead for emphasis.

"Shit! What'd you do that for?" Dustin grumbled, rubbing his forehead. He peeked over the plant again, watching as you turned a corner, still looking completely at ease. "Okay, maybe they did kiss. But that doesn't mean they're dating," he insisted, though his voice held a note of doubt.

Lucas shook his head in exasperation. "What else do you think it means? A farewell ritual? You’re in denial."

Before Dustin could argue further, they heard a familiar voice behind them, tinged with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. "What are you guys doing?"

"SHHHH!" Both Dustin and Lucas said in unison, shushing Mike. "Quick, get down!" Dustin whispered urgently, waving his hands to usher Mike to the ground beside them. Mike hesitated, his brows knitting together in confusion, but he eventually crouched down.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" Mike questioned starting to get annoyed with how sudden this all was.

"You see that girl over there? In the food mart," Lucas said, nodding subtly in your direction. You were busy picking out Steve’s favorite chips, blissfully unaware of the commotion you were causing.

"Yeah what about her?" Mike asked with a bemused expression.

"That's Steve's girlfriend," Dustin whispered dramatically, as if revealing a state secret.

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Steve's girlfriend? Like, Steve Steve? Harrington? Since when does he have a girlfriend? And how do you guys know?"

"We just saw them kiss!" Lucas explained, his voice hushed but excited. "She’s way out of his league, man."

Mike glanced back at you, then at his friends. "I mean... good for Steve, I guess?" He shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, but there was a flicker of interest in his eyes. "So, why are we hiding behind a plant?"

"Because it’s weird!" Dustin whispered back, a touch of exasperation in his voice. "I mean, come on, Steve Harrington dating someone who’s actually, like, awesome? We gotta figure out what’s going on."

"I say we go ask Steve about her." Lucas said, clearly just wanting to be nosy.

Mike snorted. "How would you even approach Steve about something like this? 'Hey, Steve, we were spying on you and saw you kissing your super cool girlfriend. Care to explain?'"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "We don’t have to be that blunt. We can just... you know, casually bring it up."

"Yeah, because we’re so good at being casual," Mike said sarcastically.

"What's going on?" A familiar ginger behind them said, accompanied by Eleven and Will.

"SHHHHHH!" The 3 said all the while still crouched.

"What are you doing?" Max asked, looking down at the three boys crouching behind the potted plants. Her tone was more curious than annoyed, but there was a definite hint of impatience in her voice.

"We’re investigating," Dustin whispered back, gesturing for Max, Eleven, and Will to get down and join them. "Come on, join the stakeout."

Max raised an eyebrow but crouched down anyway, exchanging a glance with Eleven and Will, who were both clearly intrigued. "Investigating what?" Will asked, looking over at the food mart where you were still shopping.

"Steve’s new girlfriend," Lucas said, as if it should have been obvious. "We saw them kiss."

Max smirked. "Wow, Steve actually landed someone? Good for him."

"Yeah, but that’s not the weird part," Dustin added quickly. "She’s, like, really cool. Like, way cooler than Steve. It doesn’t make sense."

"Wait, holy shit, is that The Y/N? Steve's dating her?" Max asked genuinely surprised, in her eyes you could most definitely do better than Steve.

"Yeah, that’s her," Dustin confirmed, his voice still tinged with disbelief. "Can you believe it? Steve freaking Harrington, dating her."

Max leaned in closer, trying to get a better look at you through the aisles of the food mart. "I mean, Steve’s okay, but Y/N? She’s, like, the coolest person in Hawkins. How did he pull that off?"

Lucas shrugged. "Maybe she likes his hair. Or maybe she’s never heard about all his terrible date stories."

"Or she has and thinks they're funny," Will suggested, grinning. "Steve does have a way of growing on people."

Eleven, who had been quietly watching, tilted her head, a thoughtful look on her face. "She looks happy," she observed. "Steve makes her smile."

"Okay sure but, can we stop spying on her like creeps and just go ask Steve about her?" Max asked hastily, really wanting to know how this rarepair came about.

"Yeah, seriously," Mike added, finally standing up and brushing off his shorts. "This is getting weird."

Dustin sighed, but nodded in agreement. "Fine, let’s go talk to him. But we need to be cool about it."

"Right, because we’re always so good at being cool," Lucas said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he got to his feet.

Max smirked as she watched them. "Good luck with that," she teased before leading the group out of their hiding spot.

As they made their way toward Scoops Ahoy, you were just finishing up at the food mart, blissfully unaware of the mini-stakeout that had just taken place. When you stepped back into the mall, you noticed the group approaching Steve’s workplace. You smiled, thinking it was sweet how much Steve's friends cared about him.

The kids walked into Scoops Ahoy with a mix of determination and awkwardness, and Steve looked up from behind the counter, raising an eyebrow at their sudden appearance. "Hey, what’s up, guys?" he asked casually.

Dustin exchanged a quick glance with the others before stepping forward. "Uh, hey, Steve. We, uh, saw you earlier, with... someone."

Steve's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

"With who? There's tons of customers that come here everyday dude."

Dustin shifted on his feet, glancing at Lucas and the others for support. "Yeah, but... we saw you with Y/N."

Steve’s expression softened, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, you mean my girlfriend?"

"Bullshit! No way your with someone as nice and cool as her." Lucas said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration.

Steve raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Why’s that so hard to believe? Just because I’m a goofball doesn’t mean I can’t date someone amazing."

Will hesitated, then asked, "So, how did this happen? What’s the story?"

Steve shrugged casually. "We just hit it off. She’s great, and she makes me better. It’s really as simple as that."

A soft voice interrupted the conversation.

"Steve? Your shift almost over?"

Steve looked up, his face lighting up as he saw you approaching the counter. “Hey, Y/N! Just about—” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “—a few more minutes.”

You smiled at Steve and then noticed the group of kids standing around. “Oh, hi there,” you said, giving them a friendly wave. "I saw you guys walk in a few minutes ago. It's nice to finally formally meet all of you! Steve talks about you guys all the time."

The kids exchanged surprised glances, their previous astonishment now mixed with curiosity.

“Hi, again” Dustin said, attempting to sound casual. “I’m Dustin, and this is Lucas, Will, Eleven, and Max.”

Max, now more relaxed, offered a smile. “Nice to meet you. Steve’s told us a lot about you, too.” She says coming up with a quick lie for him.

"Yep!" The rest said quickly agreeing, not wanting to embarrass Steve for the first time ever.

You laughed softly. “That’s sweet of him. He’s pretty great himself."

additional note ! this is probably my top 10 favorite works i've written bye, also requests are currently open!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[sinswithpleasure]

Caught In 4K—[Chapter One]

----------

You do not know how long I've been waiting to put this out. I've been excited about this for so long.

Collaboration with the wonderful @worldsover! None of this would have fruitioned without his writing, editing, and input.

Enjoy the story, all!

----------

“Hihi, dearies!”

The blinking red of the camera flashes repeatedly. Im Yeojin smiles into the lens, waving with both hands. A new night, a new time to clock in for her side job. On her second screen, she monitors her playback and the chat. Her eyes flick to the steadily rising number of viewers on her screen, and she smiles brightly as comments start flooding in. 

fordauto765: hello froggie

girls-are-hot: omg froggie you're live

capncock6969: squirt

mrcuntlicker420: my fav hoodie on u!

Yeojin grins at the comments and greets her loyal viewers as they pop up one by one. She fiddles with the zipper on her hoodie, casually conversing with the ever-increasing number of viewers. 

"Hello, hello!" She scrolls down the live chat. "Ah, username johnnyhancock says 'What're you wearing underneath that hoodie?' Wouldn't you like to know, hm?" She laughs, tilting the camera down to expose her bare thighs. "A little sneak peek for you all."

Tonight, her camera captures not only her but most of her room. At the back, curtains cover a large window, obscuring any clues to her location. Behind her, a heap of plushies is set up semi-neatly around her dual pillows, her blanket folded atop one of the pillows. Beside her bed, an alarm clock and a few figurines of anime characters stand atop a counter, with three inbuilt drawers. Her room is immaculate.

Pings begin to ring from her speakers. Yeojin waves at more newcomers while she reads a few more comments.

"I look pretty today? Aw, thank you! I'm about to look even prettier though." Wink. 

"Take it off and fuck yourself for us? Wow, someone's ready to go today."

"'Oooh, that's a new plushie on the bed.' That's right, I got a new frog plushie! Isn't he cute? I've been hugging it to sleep for the past few days. He's really soft!"

Yeojin smiles when she sees a regular name pop up. They've been there for the past six months, almost the entire length of her camming "career".

"Hihi, hyunwoo430!"

Thoughts of her best-friend-slash-crush of the same name come to the forefront of her mind. She lets herself wonder if this “hyunwoo430” and the same Hyunwoo-oppa she glomps every day are the same person. She shakes her head mentally—no way her cute, innocent Hyunwoo-oppa visits camgirls at all. If Hyunwoo-oppa found out she did camming as a side job, she'd have to quit school, move to another part of the world, and get a whole new identity. 

hyunwoo430: hi, froggie. how's your day been?

"It's been good, really good. The entire week's been good too. I bought myself some ice cream today, and I've been riding that high since."

hyunwoo430: that's so good to hear, froggie.

However, as horrified as she would be at the possibility of his viewership, an equal amount of warm tingles rushes down to her core. Yeojin brushes it aside—there's a show to give, after all. 

"Shall we begin, my dearies?"

A wall of "Yes!" floods the chat. Yeojin slips into her sultrier persona when she spreads open her legs to expose her pink panties to the lens. 

"I've been waiting so long for this, gosh." She slides a hand down over her thighs, gliding across the expanse of bare skin. 

"I've wanted to touch myself the whole day, and now, I get to show it to all of you. Don't you wanna see me fuck myself?" Her hands slide over her pussy, over the cloth, and she gasps softly, rubbing herself in circles. 

"Look at your cute froggie, dearies. God, it feels so good, mmph~"

Yeojin spots a comment that says 'Take the hoodie off”, and she grins, pulling the zipper down bit by bit. Soft whines escape her as she rubs her clit and bites her lips. She lets go of the zipper when it exposes most of her cleavage—enough to show more skin than normally acceptable, but still retaining what was left of her modesty, if one ignored what she was doing below. 

"Show more, show everything?" Yeojin bites back a moan as she slides her hand under the waistband of her panties, sliding two fingers into herself. A dark spot exposes how aroused she is to her viewers. 

jungshiwoon40: Fuck, this is so hot

froggieluvr32: im so hard rn

girls-are-hot: god, baby, i'd pay to see you naked

Yeojin stares at the pop-up on the side of her screen. True to their word, a fifty-dollar donation from user “girls-are-hot” with the message “strip it all off, baby” appears. Yeojin grins while she pulls her zipper open to expose her bare chest. Finally, she lets her viewers see her newly pierced nipples for the first time, and her chat goes wild, with more and more donations being added to her bank account. She then pushes her panties off her hips and spreads her labia open to show her soaked slit which drips slick onto her chair. 

"Do you like what you see, my dears?" Yeojin tugs at her nipples, moaning at the pleasure she derives from it. She reads the chat as she reinserts her fingers into herself. Her fingers strike at her G-spot while she stimulates her clit with her palm.

"Ah, fuck, so good, fuck… Thank you for the donations, dears… oh!" Yeojin gasps. A particularly strong thrust of her fingers causes her hips to buck involuntarily, a choked moan escaping her lips. "Can Froggie cum? Froggie's close, please let Froggie cum?"

Another wall of approval floods her chat, and another fifty-dollar donation pops up, once again from user "girls-are-hot", reading "cum, i wanna watch you cum."

"Fuck!" With a sharp cry, Yeojin cums around her fingers, squirting. Her squirt runs through her fingers, streams of pleasure made tangible. Liquid ecstasy soaks the towels laid around her seat, her petite body trembling at the pleasure. 

Take her fingers out of her pussy. Lick the strings of slick that still coat her digits. Yeojin pants, smiling into the lens. Her chat flies by, words almost illegible with how quick they flash on her screen. She somehow manages to note hyunwoo430's request, worded politely as always. 

hyunwoo430: froggie, can I request for you to use your dildo tonight, please?

Yeojin grins as she gets up from her chair to throw her hoodie onto her chair. She pulls out the largest dildo she owns, seeking a stretch tonight. Her first orgasm leaves her wanting more, and she knows this will definitely push her to the extremes tonight. After all, what better toy could do the job other than her huge, clear glass dildo the size of her forearm? In addition, it'd make the performance even more intimate, of sorts—the viewers can watch Yeojin gape her pussy thoroughly anyway.

"Is this what you want, hyunwoo430? Do you want Froggie to gape herself for you?"

Immediately, she sees a "Yes", followed by an "i wanna watch you cum so fucking hard" from hyunwoo430. Yeojin blushes hard thinking about the actual Hyunwoo-oppa saying these words to her. It is with these thoughts that she drives the large phallic toy into herself, gutturally groaning as she stretches the tight walls of her pussy over the sex toy. 

Yeojin spreads her legs atop the armrests of her chair. Her gaped pussy and puckered asshole are fully on display now, and she tugs at her nipples as she continues to force the dildo into herself. 

"F-Fuck! So… big, fuck! Ah!" With a hard push, Yeojin chokes on a gasp as she buries the dildo into her body. The withdrawal of said dildo is not soft either—she pulls it out halfway, then forces it back into herself to the hilt. 

"Oh- fuck, fuck, fuck! My pussy, yes, stretch me out, fuck, it's so big, so thick, fuck!" Yeojin pulls her nipples again, twisting them with the aid of the metal bar pierced through her flesh. A hundred-dollar donation from "froggieluvr32" grabs her attention:

"get ur vibe, max it, and wreck your clit. don't turn it off until you've fucking squirted everywhere."

Yeojin grabs the vibrator from a drawer, turning it to the max as per the instructions given. When the toy hits her clit, she squeals, her hand thrusting the dildo harder and faster into her dripping hole. Slick coats the dildo, strands of it sticking to its sides on every withdrawal. The pace that Yeojin sets for herself is unforgiving. Within minutes, Yeojin barrels over the edge to her second orgasm. She yanks the dildo out of her cunt as squirt forcibly fires out of her, the hiss picked up by the microphone setup she has on the side. Without relenting, she rams the dildo back into herself, the vibrator back on her clit as she bucks and convulses on her chair, the oversensitivity pushing her to a third squirt. The dildo fires out of her hands, clattering on the floor, and Yeojin pulls the vibrator out of the way just as she explodes, squirt firing in staccato bursts. 

Yeojin's cunt clenches on nothing as she squirts, her screams accompanying the hiss of fluid firing out of her used pussy. Yeojin's fingers replace the dildo, the vibrator back on her clit as she fucks herself again, addicted to the high of orgasms. She fucks herself senseless for the camera and her viewers, disregarding how sensitive she is, how messy she makes the place, and how sore she'll feel tomorrow morning. 

"Ah, ah, fuck, Froggie's squirting again, Froggie's squirting again!"

A ten dollar donation from "hyunwoo430" reads "squirt for me", and it is with thoughts of Yeojin's own Hyunwoo-oppa fucking her relentlessly that Yeojin squirts for the final time. Her hips buck as a long, violent stream of squirt sprays out of her petite body, back arched, mouth open, screams of pleasure and oversensitivity accompanying the hiss of pleasure made physical, testing the limits of the towels under Yeojin. In her head, Yeojin can't help but scream for her Hyunwoo-oppa, imagining his seed firing deep into her clenching cunt, milking his balls for all it can offer. 

When she finally is released from her high, Yeojin grins at the camera. The chat starts to die down, but she catches a few snippets of what her viewers are saying. 

froggieluvr32: fuck i came so hard

fordauto765: that was so good holy fuck

mrcuntlicker420: god if only i was there to drink all that squirt

girls-are-hot ($100 donation): thank you for another wonderful stream, froggie!

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

You close the laptop, throw away your tissues, and wipe a bead of sweat from your brow as you sigh. The mind-clearing lightness doesn't stop you from watching Yeojin do little more than stare at her screen and click and type, even if she's already cleaned up and put her hoodie on. She waves goodbye to the last few people still watching the mundane stream.

hyunwoo430 exited the chat.

You shuffle to your bathroom to wash your hands, drying them off on your shorts before sinking back onto the chair in front of your laptop. Your face sinks into your palms as a sense of shame washes over you. Even now, after months of watching your cute Peanut Yeojin get off live on cam, you still dimly regret having ever found her. Somehow, it feels like an invasion of privacy, even when the privacy in question has been blown out of the window long before. Yeojin has her entire room, her entire body streamed online, with no modesty retained. How could it be an invasion of privacy? 

You retire to bed, simultaneously dreading yet cheering the fact that you knew you'd end up seeing your dear Peanut again. She brightened your days with her bright smile and cheerful disposition, and you look forward to seeing her every day. What you dread though, are the dirty thoughts you have of her—knowing how she looks under those clothes is both a curse and a blessing. 

It is with these thoughts that you fall into a deep sleep. 

-----

"Oppa!"

There she is. 

You smile as Yeojin barrels into you, wrapping you into a big hug. Every morning, the ritual is the same—sit and wait at the entrance, hear Yeojin, and then get wrapped by the peanut in a bear hug. It never gets tiring, because the hug never fails to energize you. 

Here's the issue: the knowledge you hold about her secret job is always at the forefront of your mind. You know very intimately about how she looks underneath all her layers. You know about the heart tattoo with wings she has inked at her pelvis, just above her privates. You know about the "Per Audacia Ad Astra" tattoo she has on her right side, the quote ending just under her petite chest. You know about her birthmark on her tummy, just left of her belly button. Hell, you even know about the moles on her back when she showed it on cam once. Armed with all this knowledge, and the image of her cumming burned forever in the recesses of your mind, you can never think innocently about your dear best friend. 

Today, Yeojin is dressed in a white tee, a pink button-up over her shoulders, jeans, and sneakers. Strapped over her shoulders is her usual gray backpack, and she completes the look with white sneakers. She looks absolutely adorable with her short hair tied back into a little sprout. The hairstyle makes her cheeks pop out, and you're melting inside at the roundness of her face. You want to squish her cheeks.

"Oppa, Oppa, I got you this!" Yeojin pushes a grande-sized cup of coffee your way. You know how expensive it is, and you never want Yeojin to spend that much on you, regardless of how much she earns. 

"No, Yeojin… It's so expensive! You don't need to do this!" 

"It's fine! I have money to spare, just let me~" Yeojin whines and pushes the cup into your hands insistently. She smiles when you relent, and cheers erupt from her when you take a sip. Grabbing your hand, she pulls you with her to class. 

Her hand fits in yours perfectly. 

If Yeojin is bothered by both of you holding hands, she doesn't show it. In fact, it seems like business as usual for her. You stare at your physical connection while your heart pounds at how wonderful it feels to have her leading you by the hand, platonic or not. You wish, with all your will, that Yeojin doesn't hear or feel how hard your heart beats, how nervousness courses through your body. She can't know—not now, not ever. 

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

Yeojin panics in her class when she settles down. She stares at her hand, the same hand that held her Oppa's earlier, and she knocks herself on the head. How could she just grab Oppa's hand like that? What if he finds out about how she feels? What if he can't accept her feelings and leaves, taking years of friendship with him? 

"Nooo~, fuck…" Yeojin rests her head on her balled fists, cheeks squished on each fist. She sighs, her face burns red, and a dopey grin paints her face when she mentally replays how nice it was to hold hands with her Hyunwoo-oppa.

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

Tonight, you lie on your bed, unable to sleep. You stare at your hand, feeling a little stupid. For the entire day, you have not been able to get rid of any thoughts of Yeojin, innocent or sinful, though mostly innocent. The feel of her hand in yours still lingers, as much as it is impossible. 

She looked really pretty today. Her grin in the morning when you begrudgingly accepted your favorite coffee flashes across your mind. Another image of her appears: Yeojin eating messily at lunch, rice grains stuck to her lips, waving her hands and feet in joy at the delicious food. You hug your pillow tighter and smile at the memory. 

Yeojin has been your friend for years. Your years in high school were made rather eventful when you were paired up with Yeojin as seatmates. Ever since then, both of you grew close—where one was, the other was sure to follow. Considering Yeojin's extroverted nature, you were usually the one being taken for a ride through whatever she wanted to do. 

You smile at a memory of Yeojin staring blankly at you with a leg already over the school wall, planning to skip before the morning began. Sure enough, within minutes, you were climbing over the same wall with her. The detention that both of you got after getting caught was worth it—You already had fun at the arcade and spent a whole day together, so the punishment of even more time with each other was no punishment at all.

The question of how and when she became someone you valued more than a friend is something you can't really answer. Originally, she was just a bright, bubbly girl who introduced herself as the "Super-Ultra-Cute-and-Sweet YeoJinnie" on Day 1, but this same girl ended up becoming someone with whom you wanted something more. Somehow, more and more nights were spent with Yeojin at the forefront of your mind—specifically about how you definitely wanted to feel her cuddled up against you, and her lips on yours for years and years to come. Wishful thinking, sure, but a man can hope, can't he?

And… now. Yeojin has definitely grown and matured. Gone is the cute young teenager, replaced with a young woman that… well, still looks like the same old cutie from before, but has matured a lot. Doodles on her notebooks from school have become ink permanently tattooed on her skin. Her arms, then skinny, now are a little rounder, fuller, and more toned. Her height still remains the same though, and a bit of a sore spot for her. 

A jolt of warmth fires down between your legs when you think of the little peanut as a camgirl once more. Not again, you mentally groan. This is not the first time, and neither will it be the last.

Thoughts of Yeojin's petite naked body flood your brain, and your member reacts accordingly, hardening in your shorts. Yeojin's furrowed brows as she rubs her clit over her panties. Yeojin's fingers inside her as she curls them, her head thrown back, deep voice going deeper in arousal. The ripples of Yeojin's tight ass as she slaps it, vibrator running within her cunt. It doesn't take long before you pull your shorts down and stroke your shaft as you imagine Yeojin straddling you, riding you hard and fast. 

"Hyunwoo-oppa~"

It is with thoughts of Yeojin moaning your name, her body convulsing as she cums on your cock, her juices spraying all over your crotch, that you bring yourself to orgasm. You hurriedly grab three tissues from the table beside your bed, then sit up in preparation.

"Fuck, Yeojin, Yeojin, Yeojin, I'm gonna cum, fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With two more strokes, your balls tense and your cock pulses shots of semen. Each shot of it fires into the tight pussy of petite Yeojin and she joins in your moans as you fill her up—all in your imagination, yet it prolongs your orgasm regardless. When your orgasm subsides, you throw the tissues away, then pull up your shorts. You wash your hands before you return to bed and lie back down in shame. 

You can’t keep thinking of her like this.

Sleep claims you.

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

Yeojin is live again.

Today, you're present right at the beginning of the stream. Both you and Yeojin had a grueling presentation today, with the most hardass of professors in your years. Hence, you're in desperate need of some stress relief, and you know Yeojin definitely needs it as well. 

Yeojin waves at the camera once more. Her glasses sit atop her nose, giving her a bit more of a nerdy look, but she rocks it exceptionally well. Her white blouse is tucked into grey dress pants, her blazer hanging on the backrest of her chair. Her hair is untied, silky locks falling down to her shoulders.

You love and hate presentation days the most: Love them, because Yeojin is in formal wear—Hate them, also because Yeojin is in formal wear. Yeojin already looks sinful in a casual outfit, and in formal clothing, she only looks a million times hotter. Every time she wears formal anything, all you can think about is bending her over a desk, rocking her body with how hard you fuck into her, each thrust ripping out a cry of pleasure from deep within her. 

Needless to say, every presentation day, you're plagued by sinful thoughts of Yeojin that can only be removed by shamefully jerking off to her. Today is no different. 

"Hihi, dearies!"

Once again, you type your greeting, and Yeojin perks up. 

hyunwoo430: hi froggieee

"Ah, hyunwoo! Here you are!"

Yeojin smiles at the camera, tilting her head to the left. She fiddles with the cloth of her shirt, her saccharine voice kicking off her show for the night. 

"Shall we begin?"

Yeojin's hands run across her clothed chest, kneading her curves atop the cloth. She leans back, her breaths deeper. 

"I've been very stressed today, and I'm gonna need a few good orgasms tonight. Make sure to keep your eyes on me, okay?"

Buttons slowly pop open as Yeojin deftly undoes her shirt. More and more of her fair skin is exposed, her cleavage becoming increasingly apparent with each undone button. Yeojin pulls open her shirt, exposing her braless chest to the unblinking lens. 

On your end, you're in a somewhat similar state of undress. Your shirt is open, but your pants are undone. You slowly stroke your shaft at the sight of Yeojin's delicious body, groaning when she exposes herself. 

Wait… did she even wear a bra to school? 

You gasp, the random thought halting your actions. Yeojin never took off her blazer the entire day, and with how petite she is, she probably could pull it off without anyone noticing. You groan at the intrusive thought of Yeojin in the same formal wear, bent over a desk, her pants brought down to her thighs, shirt open to expose her chest, and her pussy plugged with your cock. You stroke harder, keeping your eyes locked on the screen of your laptop, on the sinful display Yeojin delivers. 

Yeojin now has her pants undone, but instead of taking them off, she has her hand underneath the layers of cloth. A soft moan escapes her lips as her wrist pushes against the cloth, the volume increasing as her fingers thrust in and out of herself. 

"I'm so wet, my dears, oh! Fuck, my pussy feels so good, shit…"

Yeojin pinches her nipples, tugging at them as she hisses in pleasure. She raises her legs and spreads them open, each thigh on the armrest of her chair. Her hand causes the cloth to tent repeatedly as she fucks herself with her fingers. Yeojin moans, her brows furrowed as she grabs one of her breasts for a knead. 

"Do you like it? Do you like watching this naughty girl fuck herself?"

You rush to type in a "Yes", which gets buried with all the others in the chat. The regular chime of donations seems to say the same. 

"Oh, you wanna watch me squirt? Fuck, I'll make sure I drench everything for you."

"Oh, fuck, fuck, my pussy's so fucking tight around my fingers, fuck… God, it feels so good, oh my god, fuck! I hope you're all jerking off well, my dears, because I want you all to cum with me."

Yeojin reaches for a tiny egg vibrator, putting it down her pants. She moans when she pushes it into herself, then turns it on with the remote. Whimpers escape her lips as she focuses on her clit with her fingers, the muted whirr of the vibrator stimulating her walls mixed together into an erotic score being delivered through your headset. A few more pushes of the buttons, and Yeojin moans loudly in reaction. 

"Oh, oh fuck, yes, that's it, that's it, fuck, my pussy feels so good, so fucking good, oh my God…"

Yeojin tugs at her nipples, shaky breaths escaping her lips. Her chest rises and falls erratically, her legs trembling in pleasure. 

"Oh my… fuck, I'm gonna cum really soon, I'm gonna cum really soon, watch me cum, watch me fucking cum in my pants, fuck!"

You stroke yourself harder. On your screen, Yeojin appears to stick her fingers into herself, even as the vibrator runs. 

"Fuck, I'm so close, I'm so fucking close, watch your Froggie squirt, watch me squirt all over my pants, fuck, fuck, cum with me, cum with me, I'm cumming, I'm cumming, fuck, I'm fucking cumming!"

Yeojin squeals, and a wet spot appears on her pants. The wet spot explodes over the gray cloth, darkening it to a deeper shade with her release. Her squirt leaks out of the cloth, flowing onto the chair and dripping onto the floor as she cries out in pleasure, fingers aggressively rubbing her clit. Yeojin squirts hard—the wet spot even goes to about mid-thigh, though most of it overflows, forming puddles below her.

When Yeojin's orgasm subsides, she turns off the vibrator, spreading her legs wide open to show the stains on her dress pants to the camera. 

"Did you like it, my dears? I see some of you in chat wanting to see me squirt more… Don't worry, I definitely won't stop until you guys leave me a fucked out mess, okay?"

The jolts of pleasure at the filth Yeojin says make you nearly blow your load. You rip your hand away, your cock twitching hard as you edge yourself. 

"Oh, froggieluvr32, you want me to squirt even more? Alright, let me get naked and I'll make sure to drench all of you in my cum."

Fuck, it's going to be a long night.

—---

Yeojin definitely kept her promise. 

Your cock aches hard—you've edged yourself for a solid hour or so now to Yeojin's stream. Her tousled hair falls all over her teary eyes, and streaks of her tears stain her cheeks. Drool leaks from her open mouth as she moans, uncaring of her image anymore. Her Hitachi wand is held against her clit and her trusty glass dildo gapes her hole once again. 

"Look at me, look, I'm such a slut, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna squirt again!"

Yeojin cries out in pleasure as her pussy gushes another spray of squirt all over her thighs. Her body convulses as her eyes roll back, almost as if she was possessed. The chat eggs her on though, fueled by intense lust and the desire to see the petite girl destroy herself with wanton pleasure. Squirt covers every inch of Yeojin's skin on her bottom half, and sweat runs down her top half. Her white dress shirt is almost transparent at this point, drenched through with sweat and squirt as it clings to her like a second skin. 

"Those of you who've been edging for me, and I know there are, I want you guys to cum too, okay?"

Yeojin flashes a tired grin from her chair, her cheeks puffed up to intensify her cuteness. 

"I want all my Oppas and Unnies to think about cumming on me, on your cute little Froggie."

She giggles.

"Or maybe in me, inside my cute little fuckhole."

Yeojin lowers the vibrator onto her clit again while the dildo teasing her drenched pussy parts her walls once more. Yeojin whimpers loudly at the overstimulation, but she pumps her dildo hard into her tight pussy, her walls clinging tightly to the fucktoy.

You're unable to resist anymore—the thought of Yeojin taking your load into her womb takes you straight to the edge. Your hands do not obey your mind—you want to hold on until Yeojin cums, but with two more strokes…

"Fuck!"

Thick white ropes of semen erupt from your hard cock, shooting high into the air. Cum splatters all over your table, your thighs, your chest, and your stomach as you jerk yourself furiously through your release. Shot after shot of cum explodes from your cock with every pump of your fist, and you get more and more lightheaded as you finally achieve the sexual release you've worked towards for the past hour. You lose count somewhere at ten as you willingly submit to the intense pleasure your orgasm brings.

On your screen, Yeojin's moans get whinier and whinier, her words slurring together as she gets closer and closer to her final orgasm.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, I'mgonnacum, I'msoclose, fuck, fuck—ah, shit—watchme, watchme, I'mgonnafucking—!"

A scream rips through Yeojin's body as her vibrator is flung out of her hands and clatters noisily on the floor. The dildo in her hands being forced out of her pussy is the last thing you can see before a deluge of Yeojin's squirt sprays all over the camera lens. Burst after burst of Yeojin's juices spray across your screen, her hips bucking and muscles clenching with each spray of her orgasm.

"Oh fuck, Yeojin, fuck!"

At the same time, you curse loudly again as another load of semen erupts from your cock—you didn't stop jerking even after your orgasm, and Yeojin's lewd display brings you to another release of your own. Six more pulses of semen splatter onto your chest and torso, and you sink deeper into your chair when your orgasm subsides, your tense body deflating with a long sigh of exhaustion. Yeojin is in the same state on-screen, fucked out and drenched in the remnants of her pleasure. 

"Thank you all for today, Oppas, Unnies…"

You fall into a sound sleep after your shower. 

—-------

You love Thursdays. While it doesn't beat the end of the week, Thursdays offer you a simple joy—you share classes with Yeojin. For two hours every week, you get to have your favorite girl next to you, happily chattering away and working closely with you on the content being taught.

"Oppa, I'm confused about this part…"

"Me too, Yeojin. I wanna go up and ask the prof later."

You carry on typing whatever notes you can, and Yeojin taps away at the keyboard on her own notes. You're only semi-focused though—Yeojin smells really really really nice today, and you'd be lying if you weren't a little distracted. 

"Okay class, let's have a short break!"

After the professor calls for a ten-minute break after the marathon of Powerpoint slides, you go up to ask questions. Unfortunately, there’s already a line of students there. You sigh and join the queue.

—--

Perfect. Yeojin knows just how meticulous the teacher can be with answering questions, giving her plenty of time to mess with Hyunwoo-oppa’s computer. It’s funny (and really cute) when he finds out and whines about it to her, so she’ll keep doing it to bother him. Besides that, she also gets to snoop around and figure out little things about him.

Imagine the horror Yeojin feels when, in an idle bout of curiosity, she reaches over to look at his laptop, opens another browser window, then sees that dreaded website link: “OnlyCams - ImFroggie”.  Yeojin has approximately a billion thoughts racing through her mind, yet has no time to process anything since he’s already done asking the professor his questions, so he walks back to his seat. Predominantly, as she stumbles about trying to close the window, buried in the depths of her anxiety is hope, tainted by lust. She twirls a pen, trying her best to keep cool.

He clears his throat. “I saw that.”

“You what!”

Hyunwoo-oppa returns from the professor's podium with the answers in record time. He can't help but grin.

“Tsk. Trying to copy my notes.” At least, that’s all he noticed. He would be feeling a similar horror if he found out about Yeojin finding out. “You can just ask, you know? Or better yet pay attention.”

Yeojin plays up her pouting and harrumphing. “W-well. Meanie.” She can’t help but gulp.

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits,  but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

[shitty-marvel-fan732]

Hi can I request a peter parker x barnes-Rogers reader (steve and Bucky's daughter) and me and Peter find out I'm pregnant with Peter's baby and we try to keep it a secret but everyone is suspicious of us cause I've been really poorly lately and Peter is being overprotective and one day Peter accidentally says "don't do that it could hurt the baby" or "and everyone freaks out and me, Peter and my dads have a long talk but everything is fine thanks xx

Unexpected

Pairing: Peter Parker x Barnes-Rogers! Reader

Requested?: Yes!

Word count: Almost 7k

Warnings: Pregnancy, some angst but thats it I think?

Author's Note: Yessssss this was so fun to write! Very excited to be back to posting on this page again. Thank you so much for the request! Hope to start adding in more content soon, so if yall have any requests feel free to send them in! And if you have requests sent in already, know that I love you and I will be getting to clearing out my inbox here pretty soon 🥰

Taglist: @just-that-bi-girl , @winterfrostsarmy

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In retrospect, the entire team should have realized what was going on with you a lot sooner. To their credit, most of them had noticed that something was different about you, but other than Nat and Wanda none of them had a guess as to what exactly that was. 

The men appeared completely clueless in respect to the cause of the recent changes in you. Even Clint, a married father of three, hadn't caught on even after he'd seen you leaving the bathroom having clearly just thrown up. Tony had been the closest to figuring it out of the all men, having noticed your odd mood swings and crying fits as they became more and more frequent. He noted the same behavioral pattern as he'd found himself stuck in after the Battle of New York, and secretly worried for your mental well-being. He hadn't felt comfortable enough to broach the topic with you just yet though, instead opting to watch you from a distance for the time being. 

The women, however, seemed to understand almost instantly what was going on. Nat had figured things out once she realized that you had been skipping training lately and noticed that you and Peter barely appeared to leave one another's sides for even a moment. Wanda based her guess almost solely upon the fact that she could just feel that something was different about you; your entire energy had changed in the last few weeks and she noted it even before Peter had. Both women had their suspicions, but had seemingly agreed to keep their thoughts to themselves until you were ready to tell the team what was going on. 

Your dads were a different story altogether. 

It took Steve and Bucky much longer to notice something had changed with their daughter, Steve longest of all. Either you'd done a great job of avoiding your Pops or he'd been incredibly unobservant (or more likely both), but he hadn't seen anything that he would've considered out of the ordinary for you. 

That is, until today. 

"AAAAUUUUUUGGGGH"

Steve was on his feet in an instant, sprinting into the kitchen at the sound of your enraged scream. He skidded to a stop and surveyed the room with a trained look for the source of danger, but found none. In fact, you and Sam were the only two in the space as far as he could tell. Sam's back was pressed snugly against the furthermore countertop as you practically cornered him, the older man clearly caught off guard by your sudden burst of rage. You flung your hands around wildly as you yelled, one gripping a box so tightly that your knuckles were beginning to turn a concerning shade of white.

Completely bewildered, Steve watched in stunned silence for moment as you fumed and screamed expletives at the slightly-terrified looking Sam, without any clear indication as to what had happened. 

"I CANNOT FUCKING BELIEVE YOU, YOU GODDAMNED ASSHO-"

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" Steve scolded you finally, momentarily stopping your verbal assault. "What in God's name is going on here?" 

Your eyes turned to your Pops' briefly before flickering back to glare in Sam's direction. 

"Pigeon-brain ate the last of my oreos," you seethed, walking forward and jabbing an accusatory finger to Sam's chest, his hands instantly flying upwards in surrender.

 Steve felt his jaw drop in utter disbelief.

“You-,” 

“What’s with all the commotion in here?” Bucky interrupted, striding into the kitchen much as Steve had moments ago and joining his husband's side with a confused look on his face. Steve crossed his arms and frowned at their daughter. 

“Apparently our daughter is screaming at Sam because he ate her cookies.” your Pops explained tersely.

“Not cookies, oreos,” you muttered, glare never wavering from Sam. You furiously threw the offending empty package roughly at his still bewildered face in lieu of another expletive. Sam was evidently so bewildered, in fact, that he didn't even flinch as the box hit his head and bounced pathetically to the floor. 

Bucky raised his eyebrow. 

“And that’s why you’ve been screaming like that?” he confirmed. You nodded, arms crossing your chest stubbornly. 

Bucky shrugged, looking towards his husband with a look of indifference. “Makes sense.”

“No, it absolutely does not make sense,” Steve lightly scolded, glancing at Bucky with a pointed look before returning his gaze to you. “Y/N you’re completely overreacting. Apologise to Sam right now.”

Your mouth dropped open, and you gaped at your dads with an expression that was equal parts betrayal and rage. 

“No.”

“No?” Steve repeated incredulously. He stared at you with disbelief, looking between you and Bucky like he was hoping he’d somehow misheard you. You met his glance with an equally stubborn look as you planted your feet solidly beneath you and tightened the cross of your arms. “What do you mean, no?”

“You heard me,” you spat, unwavering. 

Sam merely looked confused as he watched the two of you argue, if albeit still a bit scared, but Bucky was sure his shock was evident on his face. You never back-sassed your Pops, not even when you were really angry, and Bucky only felt his disbelief grow at the prospect that your attitude was all due to a few cookies. 

"Y/N, you don't get to tell me no," Steve ground out carefully, voice stern with a rare sort of parental authority he seldom had to use with you. In fact, Bucky was pretty sure he hadn't actually heard him use this particular tone since way back when you were a toddler testing the limits of your dads' patience. But unlike your three-year-old self, you didn't back down at your Pops' disapproving tone; in fact, you met his intense stare with a flippant roll of your eyes, deepening your dad's shock at your abrupt behavioral shift. 

"He fucking knows what he did, everyone knows those oreos are mine," you snapped, eyes alight with a kind of fury the likes of which your dads had never seen from you before. 

"Language!" Steve gasped at his daughter, his authoritative tone giving way to a spluttering one of complete disbelief. 

"FUCK OFF!" you shouted instantly. 

"HEY!"

Bucky had officially had enough. Irritation blossomed deep within his chest at the hurt he saw wash through his husband's eyes at your vulgar screech. Teenaged angst was one thing, but it was entirely another to blatantly disrespect Steve like you were. He still didn't know what was really causing you to act like this--because no way in hell could this be all over some oreos-- but he'd definitely passed the point where he even cared. 

"Doll, that’s enough. Clearly you're upset, but you cannot speak to your Pops like that," he practically growled. You turned your attention to your dad with the same kind of indignant irritation in your eyes, a flash of fresh anger rolling across your face at the sight of Bucky's equally irate expression. 

"You can fuck off too," you spat.

 Bucky's jaw clenched dangerously, the muscle in his cheek jumping and twitching as he took in his daughter's crass retort. Sam had long since left the scene, the nearly suffocating tension officially too much for him to take. Steve's eyes went wide for what felt like the millionth time since he'd first walked into the kitchen. If he hadn't known something was wrong before, he undoubtedly did now. 

You may not disobey him often, but you never snapped at Bucky. 

Steve had long since accepted that, though you loved the two of them the same, you'd always liked Bucky more. A daddy's girl from birth, you and Bucky had always been inseparable-- so for you to now scream and curse at him like this was like a flaming-red flag in Steve's mind. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

"Excuse me?" Bucky hissed. The two of you faced one another, arms crossed and expressions grim. You planted your feet even more solidly underneath you, staring your dad down with a fury so intense it was almost palpable. If it weren't for the overall tension of the situation, Steve might've teased the two of you for your near-mirrored positions. 

"Y/N? What's going on, I thought I heard yelling?" Peter asked as he practically skidded into the kitchen. He immediately joined you, face morphing into a look of utter concern at the sight of yours and Bucky's standoff. Steve braced himself, mentally apologizing to Peter for the verbal assault that was surely coming his way. 

But it never came. 

It was as if all the unwarranted anger was sucked from your body in a rush as soon as you caught sight of your boyfriend. Your face crumpled into an anguished expression, and Steve could see how the tears welled up in your eyes instantaneously. Peter clicked his tongue in pity and you thrust yourself instantly into his awaiting arms. He gripped you tightly, and you eagerly buried yourself further into his embrace. Face smashed tightly against his chest, you began to sob uncontrollably.

Your dads gaped at the scene, wide-eyed. 

"S-sam ate my oreos a-and now everyone's mad at me, and I j-just wanted my snack!" you all but wailed, voice muffled by Peter's body. 

Bucky blinked once as he turned to his husband, total confusion written all over his features. Steve just gaped in response, unable to formulate a semi-coherent thought, let alone words. 

"Oh angel, it's okay," Peter cooed softly into your hair, hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly as you continued to cry. "I can go and get you more oreos; don't cry Y/N/N, I'll just run down to the store right now to get you some."

Lifting your head from his chest, you seemed slightly placated and hopeful as you sniffled and looked up at him. 

"C-can I come with you?" you asked him shyly, tear-stained cheeks turning a slight shade of pink at your childish request. Peter smiled fondly down at you, clearly happy to see that you were feeling better. 

"Of course, it'll be nice to walk with you," he smiled sweetly at you and lightly kissed your nose. You giggled as you removed yourself from his embrace before walking over to your dads. 

"M'sorry I shouted daddys. Love you guys!" you apologized in a chipper voice before kissing both of the men's bewildered cheeks. 

The two supersoldiers both stood in stunned silence as they watched you leave hand in hand with Peter, who briefly shot them an apologetic look before the pair were gone. Steve thought he heard Peter mumbling something to Y/N as they left, but the only words he could pick out were "not good to get so worked up", which only confused him further. 

"What in the hell was that?" Bucky grumbled, face still crinkled with bewilderment. Steve simply shook his head. 

"I have absolutely no idea. I've never seen her behave like that, have you?"

"Nothing like that, but she was acting funny the other day too," he frowned, recalling the scene he'd walked in on just a few days prior. "She was full out sobbing on the couch a few days ago over a toilet paper commercial."

Steve gaped at his husband. 

"Sh-she...what?"

"Doll have you seen your Pops? I can't find him any-"

Bucky's question died in his throat as soon as he hit the threshold of the TV room. You were curled up on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees as sobs racked through you. Peter sat next to you with his eyes crinkled in concern and hands rubbing gently at your shoulders as you cried. 

"Y/N what's wrong, why are you crying?" Bucky asked. Feeling his protective instincts kick in instantly,  he couldn't help but search the room with his eyes in search of any danger. Finding nothing, he narrowed his eyes at your boyfriend.

"Did he do something?" Bucky demanded. "Parker I swear to God if you hurt her I-" 

"What? N-no I didn't do anything Mr. Bucky I swear!" Peter spluttered, eyes widening in fear at the terrifying look in your dad's eyes. 

"Bullshit, then why's she crying like that? Of course you did someth-"

"N-no it's not P-peter dad!" you interrupted tearfully. "There was an ad on TV that just made me emotional okay? You know, the one with the boy crying in the bathroom and his dad offers him toilet paper for his tears?"

There was a beat of silence. 

"Doll, you really mean to tell me that you're sobbing over a toilet paper ad?" Bucky asked, brows furrowed in disbelief. You sniffled as you nodded, and fresh tears began to pick your eyes once more. 

"Yes! I mean it's just so inspiring," you blubbered. "I mean how often do you actually get to see a teenaged boy cry on TV? Never, cause toxic masculinity standards in this stupid patriarchal society we all live in say otherwise! And not only does the dad accept that his son is crying and is allowed to feel real emotions, he sits down to talk with him about them! I just got so happy thinking about all the little boys who will see this ad and feel the validation that they're normal for feeling sad every once in a while!"

Bucky just stared at his daughter with a blank look for a moment; he looked like he was unable to formulate a single response to the information he'd just been given. 

"Well that's...uh….that's great I gue-"

"I can't believe you would just assume that me crying just had to be because of something Peter did," you interrupted, angrily brushing the leftover tears from your face. "It's so unfair, you always blame him for everything!"

"I-uh," Bucky stammered, flustered by the sudden change in your emotions. You scoffed and stood quickly from your spot in Peter's embrace, crossing your arms petulantly. 

"It's true dad, you're always looking for something to yell at him for! It's so biased and unfair," you practically yelled. "Honestly it's such prejudiced bullshit. Some kind of outdated 'lock up your daughters' rhetoric that I can't believe yo…"

At some point during your impassioned speech you began stomping away from both your dad and Peter while still ranting. As your shouts became fainter and fainter Bucky found himself directing his dumbfounded expression at Peter instead. In a rare show of solidarity with your boyfriend, Bucky silently begged for an explanation as to what on earth had just happened. 

Despite the way his heart was hammering wildly in his chest Peter remained silent. He offered only a passive shrug to your dad before he clambered to his feet and began following after you. If Bucky hadn't been caught so off guard he surely would've been suspicious at the visible sweat that was beading on Peter's forehead and the way the young boy's hands trembled as he quickly left the room, the question of what was causing your mood swings laying thickly unanswered in the air. 

"What the fu-"

"She...a toilet paper ad? Really?"

"Yep, a friggin' toilet paper commercial," Bucky nodded solemnly. Steve blinked once, shaking his head. 

"So what did you do?" he asked incredulously. 

"Nothin'," Bucky shrugged. "She was so damned worked up that I figured she needed some space, and by the time I went to talk to her she'd already seemed completely fine. Thought it wasn't worth upsetting her all over again."

Steve snorted. 

"Yeah right, you were just too scared you would make her mad again," he chuckled. 

"Hell yeah I was," Bucky admitted freely, crossing his arms and shooting his husband a defiant expression. "You've seen her, you know how terrifying she can be when she's pissed!"

Steve chuckled once more, shaking his head fondly. 

"Mmmm, and I wonder where she got that from."

Bucky narrowed his eyes and scowled at the implication, a surly look overtaking his features. Steve couldn't help but laugh outright at the expression on his husband's face; it was the exact same face you always made when you were annoyed, right down to the little pout in your lip. 

"For the last time Stevie, she doesn't get that from me," he grumbled. 

"Sure Buck, whatever you say," Steve laughed. 

Though your odd behavior and mood swings were at least now on both your dads' radar, neither had any clue as to the actual reason for your sudden changes. The pair of them chalked up the incidents to little more than teenaged angst, however they had no idea how wrong they were nor just how soon they were about to find out what was really going on. 

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

"I don't understand Y/N," Steve stated carefully. "Why exactly don't you want to go with the team?"

You shifted your weight from foot to foot anxiously, huffing out a breath in mock annoyance and very real frustration. 

You'd been in the training room, lightly working out with Nat and Wanda when your Pops and Tony had walked in to announce that there was an urgent mission that apparently would require the entire team. Internally cursing your timing, you'd tried to sneak out of the room unnoticed, but as your luck would have it, your dad caught you. Now you were stuck arguing with your dads, the attention and curiosity of everyone in the gym directed at you. 

Your heart was thrumming wildly in your chest as you furiously racked your brain for some way, any way, out of this assignment and this conversation without an actual reason. 

Well, a reason you were actually willing to give, that is.

"Why does it even matter?" you snapped, hoping that no one clocked the tremor in your voice. "It's not like you guys even need me anyways."

"Doll, you always jump at the chance to come with us," your dad interjected. "So what's so different about today?"

"I just don't want to," you whined, lying through your teeth. "I'm tired and I don't feel good."

"But you were literally just training?" Sam pointed out. You narrowed your eyes at him, irritation bubbling under the surface of your anxiety at the contradiction. The older man shrank back a bit under your firey gaze, the previous incident in the kitchen clearly prominent in his mind as he stepped behind Wanda. 

Clint snorted. 

"If you could even call that training," he mumbled under his breath. Your jaw dropped. 

"What is this, gang up on Y/N day?!" you sassed as your arms flew to cross your chest defensively. Your Pops shook his head. 

"We're just worried Y/N/N," he reassured, brows furrowed with concern. "You've been behaving very strangely lately, and this is just one more thing."

"Yeah doll," Bucky nodded, agreeing with his husband. "So what gives?"

Your pulse sped up once more at the direct question, a sickening feeling rising in your throat like bile at the realization of just how suspicious your dads were. Unable to think clearly through your panic, you did the only thing you could think of. 

You scoffed in fake disbelief, rolled your eyes, and began stomping out of the room. 

"Y/N Barnes-Rodgers!" your dad shouted in an indignant and angered tone. "We are not done talking about this!" 

Damn. 

"What?!" you whirled around, stomping your foot like a child. "I just don't want to go this time okay?"

Bucky's face turned red at your open defiance, but Steve interrupted before he could even open his mouth to snap back at you. 

"No Y/N it's absolutely not okay," he scolded. You felt the burn of unshed tears prick your eyes as they searched desperately around the room, mind racing to think of an excuse that would get you out of this situation. 

"But-"

"No, no buts Y/N," your dad barked, clearly having composed himself enough to speak once more. His arms were crossed as he glared at you, and the stubbornly annoyed look on his face was enough to make the tears in your eyes begin to fall. A feeling of utter entrapment and fear settled in your chest like a suffocating weight as you felt the hot, fresh tears stream down your cheeks. 

"Doll, are you crying?" your Pops questioned incredulously. "What on earth is going on with you?"

"Nothing! I just can't go today," you blubbered, past the point of being able to hold back your sobs. 

"You can't go, or you won't go?" Bucky asked pointedly, evidently not swayed by your tears. 

"It doesn't matter," you cried desperately. Your dad's eyes bored into yours directly as if he was searching your brain to find out what you were holding back from him. 

"It clearly does matter, otherwise you wouldn't be acting like this," he continued harshly. "I'm not sure what it is you aren't telling us, but I don't even care at this point. Stark said he needs everyone and your Pops told you to go, so you need to get yourself together and go and get ready."

The tears were now cascading down your face in giant streams and your face was growing warmer by the second. You darted your gaze back and forth between the other team members' faces, still searching for some kind of last minute way out of this situation. Finding only curious or concerned expressions, you turned back to your dads with wide eyes. You felt your mouth go dry as your lips open and closed wordlessly, the severity of your current predicament weighing you down more and more by the second. 

"I-"

"No. I don't want to hear another word from you Y/N," your dad snapped. "Go and get ready for the mission now."

"But she can't go!"

Time stopped for a split second as the entire room's heads snapped towards the desperate shout.

Peter had only just entered the training room, wondering where everyone was, when he caught the tail end of your dad's order. He couldn't help but blurt the first thing that'd come to mind, the implication of which only dawned on him afterwards. As he rushed to your side he shot you a sheepish look, and you internally cringed a bit at his slip. 

Even though you were certain Peter's involvement would only further reduce your already slim chances of getting out of this mission without a full confession of what was really going on, you couldn't help but feel an inkling of relief as his eyes locked with yours. His hand immediately intertwined itself with yours once he'd reached you, and your belly fluttered with a warm tinge of comfort with the simple touch.

True, things were probably about to go sideways for the both of you, but at least Peter was here to go through it by your side. 

"Excuse me Parker?" your dad spat incredulously, eyes blazing with anger at your boyfriend's outburst. "I don't recall asking you for your opinion on my daughter or what she can or can't do."

Peter stood a little taller as he looked Bucky straight in the eyes with an unprecedented amount of determination. 

"She can't go." he practically growled, eyes stern and unyielding as he openly defied your dad. He was standing a half-step in front of you, tense back partially shielding you from the rest of the team as he spoke.

 Even with his face turned the opposite direction you could see from his profile the way his brows were furrowed and how dark his normally chocolate brown eyes had gotten. You felt a slight shiver run up your spine at the fiercely protective energy Peter was radiating, and your heart felt a bit lighter at the way he stood up to your dad on your behalf. You squeezed his hand in an effort to ground him, and he softened marginally as he glanced back at you.

Your dad however looked as if he might combust soon based on the way his eyes bulged out and his face turned a concerning shade of red. 

"What's that supposed to mean Peter?" Steve interjected carefully, his hand reaching up to rest comfortingly on his husband's shoulder. 

"It means exactly what we said," Peter said firmly. "Y/N cannot go on this mission today."

The team watched the interaction between you, Peter, and your dads with their heads bouncing back and forth between the four of you like they were watching a tennis match. Not a word had been uttered from a single one of them, and yet they stood completely transfixed as they waited patiently to see the outcome of the argument. 

"And why, pray tell, is that Parker?" your dad hissed, scowl etched across his features. 

Peter's eyes traveled to yours, irises swimming with a silent question. Realizing that there was no way out, you took a steadying breath as you nodded softly and squeezed his hand once more in reassurance. Peter smiled at you fondly before dropping his smile and turning back to your parents. 

"She can't go because...it could be bad for the baby."

You could've heard a pin drop in the training room. No one made a sound, no one even dared to breathe. The shock in the room was palpable, but you couldn't be bothered to even glance at anyone other than your dads, their reactions the only two that mattered to you in this moment. 

Though you'd expected a rather explosive reaction from your parents (especially from your dad), you were met instead with blank stares. Your dads were simply staring at you and Peter in stunned silence, and their lack of a response actually frightened you more than the screaming you'd been anticipating for weeks now. The beat of silence seemed to stretch on eternally, though in reality it was probably no more than thirty seconds. You watched nervously, your hand becoming sweaty in Peter's as you waited. Finally, your Pops blinked and opened his mouth cautiously. 

"Bad for the wha-"

"I SWEAR TO GOD PARKER THAT'D BETTER BE SOME KIND OF DISGUSTING PET NAME FOR MY DAUGHTER."

Ahhh. There it was. 

Your dad had clearly broken through his frozen thoughts enough to respond, and you would've laughed if you weren't so terrified. He looked positively furious; his eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them and his face had darkened from red to an almost purple color that looked painful to say the least. His murderous gaze was hyper-fixated on Peter, and you couldn't help but step in front of your poor boyfriend in an effort to take some of the heat off him. 

Peter, evidently, was having none of that, and he frowned before pulling you backwards and tucking you into his side tightly. If you hadn't been so focused on your dad right now you might've rolled your eyes at his over-protectiveness. Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of his embrace as you took a steadying breath. 

"It's not," you responded as calmly as you could manage while your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your throat. "I'm pregnant."

Silence enveloped the room once more, and you could've sworn it was even more awkward than the first time. It must've been, because you could see Nat and Wanda ushering the rest of the team out of the gym out of the corner of your eye. You weren't quite sure if you were grateful for the privacy or more scared of how your dads would react now that you were alone.

Your dads stared at you and Peter with wildly different expressions. Steve was staring off into space and looking as if he was either going to throw up or pass out soon, and Bucky still looked as if he was about a half a second away from murdering Peter with his bare hands. To his credit, Peter was still standing by your side with the same look of determination as before despite this, but you could feel the way his pulse was hammering through his veins as he too carefully surveyed your dads' reactions.

You stood quietly, trying to be patient as you watched them, but the suspense and anticipation quickly became overwhelming and you couldn't help but blurt,

"Say something!"

Though both their gazes snapped up to your face with your plea, yet neither your dad nor you Pops said anything. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to explain yourself. 

"I know that you're probably in shock or angry or maybe both- and honestly that's completely fair!" You rambled breathlessly. "I know we're still only eighteen, but I really think everything's gonna be okay? Really, I do. And I'm so sorry about today, believe me this isn't how we planned on telling you at all bu-"

"You're not coming on the mission," Steve interrupted, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Nor is Peter. Your dad and I will be back later, and we're all going to have a long discussion."

It felt like all the air was sucked out of your body as you watched your Pops pull your dad towards the training room exit. You hadn't been fully sure of just how you were going to tell them, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine that it would come out like this. Tears once more welling up in your eyes, your heart sank as you realized just how disappointed and angry they were. 

"I love you," your voice cracked as you called to their retreating forms, unable to bear the sight of them leaving without reminding them. They both paused in the doorway, and without turning back both muttered that they loved you too before they were gone. 

As soon as they left you immediately twisted yourself and thrust your face into Peter's chest, the tears flowing steadily as you sobbed. He wrapped his arms tightly around your shaking form, lips finding the crown of your head and hands rubbing soothingly across your back. 

"Th-they hate me now," you whispered brokenly into Peter's soft hoodie in between sobs. "They hate me Pete, they're n-never going to forgive me for this!"

Peter shushed you quietly, gentle lips kissing your hair as he began to sway you back and forth slowly. 

"They don't hate you angel," he soothed. "They're just surprised. Disappointed in the timing maybe, but they'll get over it. I promise."

"I never wanted it to go like this," you cried as you pulled your head from his chest slightly. Peter's hands left your back for a moment to come and rest on either of your cheeks. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead before retreating upwards to look deep into your eyes. 

"I know you didn't sweet girl, but it did," he said gently as he brushed away some of your tears with the pads of his thumbs. "It did and it's going to be okay. We'll talk to your dads when they get back and clear everything up. And no matter what, you and I are going to get through this together, okay?"

You sniffled softly, nodding sadly. Peter's eyes were swimming with guilt and dejection at the sight of the empty expression on your face. He didn't know how to comfort you in this situation, but it was like every molecule in his body was demanding he do so. He leaned down once more to press a loving kiss to your forehead, then your cheeks, your nose, and finally your lips. 

You sighed, head retreating back to his chest once your lips disconnected. Sadness was still swirling in your stomach and you just longed for the feeling that being in Peter's arms brought. He seemed to understand perfectly- as he always did- pressing his cheek to the top of your head and wrapping his arms tightly around you without a word. The two of you stood there for a while, bodies entangled as you continued lightly swaying back and forth. Peter's hands continued to roam up and down your spine and your tears began to slow and dry. 

Eventually you hummed, stepping back and up on your toes to press an appreciative kiss to Peter's face. He smiled as a faint pink tinted his cheeks at your display of affection. You giggled, slightly amazed that even after everything you two had done, something as simple as a peck on the cheek could still make him blush.

"Thank you," you said quietly, looking up into his eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at you in confusion. 

"For staying with me through all that. I mean it's you, so I wasn't really worried...but my dad can be really frightening. So thanks," you half joked. 

Peter chuckled lightly as he pulled you back into his arms once more. 

"Of course angel. Told you, I'm never going to leave you. Even if your dad is super scary. You two are stuck with me now. I'm never ever going to leave you or our baby," he vowed quietly into your hair as his hands reached down to rub the small but growing bump in your tummy lovingly. "We're gonna get through this all together, as a family."

You felt tears well up in your eyes once more, but this time out of sheer love and happiness.

 Damned hormones. 

"You're gonna be such a good daddy Peter," you whispered gratefully. Hearing the slight crack in your voice, Peter pulled you away from his chest gently to wipe your tear stained cheeks once more. 

"Hey now, no more tears today," he scolded playfully as he tugged you across the room. "When's the last time you ate something? We have the whole kitchen to ourselves now, and I bet my babies are hungry!"

You chuckled lightly as you allowed him to pull you along with him towards the kitchen. All the while, he chattered happily about the new article he'd just read about the specific nutritional needs pregnant women have, and your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were still apprehensive about the upcoming conversation with your dads, but you were definitely feeling better. As much as their approval and involvement would mean to you, you'd come to the conclusion that as long as you had Peter by your side everything would work out alright. 

Somehow.

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

"Petey, are you sure you don't need any-"

"No! Nope. I've got this," your boyfriend interrupted stubbornly. You signed, hand absentmindedly rubbing across your swollen stomach as you watched him struggle with the latch on the new crib the two of you were setting up. 

Well, the crib that Peter was setting up. 

It'd been a few months since the team had found out about the newest upcoming addition to the Tower, and you'd decided that it was time to begin decorating the nursery. Tony, of course, had offered to have someone come in to do all the heavy lifting, but Peter was insistent that he be the one to set everything up. His protectiveness over you and the rapidly growing child you were carrying had only increased as the months went on, so much so that you were lucky now if he'd even let you stand for long enough to watch him put the baby's furniture together. It was endearing, really, how much he cared for the two of you, but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't becoming a little frustrated with how little you could do to help. 

"Really Peter, I can help," you grumbled, annoyed. "I'm pregnant, not disabled."

"Of course you could help angel, but I don't need help," he grunted, eyes never leaving the mass of parts around him. "You already have to do all the work of growing and housing our baby, the least I can do is build the crib!"

"Housing?" you teased, quirking an eyebrow.

"You know what I meant," he grumbled, and you couldn't help but chuckle at his growing frustration. 

Peter was clearly losing his grip just a bit as he struggled to make sense of the instructions that had been provided with the pieces. He sighed, throwing the pamphlet down on the ground before trudging over to where you stood, leaning against the changing table that he'd put together a few days ago. 

"I've engineered web-fluid from absolutely nothing, re-built computers from scratch and yet I can't even manage to put this stupid bed together," he whined as he dropped his head down onto your shoulder in defeat. "M'gonna be a terrible father."

"Ohhh bubs," you cooed sympathetically, smile falling quickly and heart lurching at the tone of pure dejection in his voice. 

You wrapped your arms around him, one snaking around his back and the other cradling his head. Your fingers began instantly carding through his chocolate-brown locks as he nuzzled his nose lightly into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His hands wound their way around your waist too- or as well as they could with your round tummy in the way- and his own hands began absentmindedly tracing patterns over your bump.

"Peter you have to know that isn't true," you soothed, kissing his cheek softly. "You're going to be an amazing dad."

He hummed non-commitally. 

"You think you're not?" you challenged, fingers halting their dance against his scalp. "Do the thing."

He raised his head from your shoulder, brows furrowed in confusion. 

"What does that have to do with-"

"Do the thing," you interrupted sternly. He sighed and knelt down, grumbling inaudible complaints as he went. Once he was face to face with your bump he placed his hands on either side, thumbs rubbing soft circles into your stretched-out skin.

"Hi baby, it's me, your daddy," he spoke softly into your stomach, lips so close that you shivered with each breath that ghosted over your clothed belly. "I love you so much."

The baby responded instantly at the sound of Peter's voice, feet jabbing out and kicking excitedly from within just underneath where his hands lay. You felt your heart skip a beat at both the feeling the movement in your belly and the sight of the dopey smile that lit up Peter's handsome face as he felt his child's kicks. You rubbed over his hands lovingly and smiled down at him.

"See bubs? He starts throwing a party in there every time you do that. He loves you so much already, that's not gonna change," you reassured him softly. Peter's smile dropped just a little. 

"But the crib-"

"Fuck the crib," you responded stubbornly. "You are the most caring, sweetest, and most thoughtful person I know Peter. You're going to be the world's best dad."

"Whoa whoa, believe we're the ones with the mugs that claim that title," a voice chuckled from the doorway. 

You smiled fondly, eyes darting to find the sight of your Pops leaning casually against the frame of the door with your dad standing just behind him. Both had amused smiles on their faces, and you grinned widely. Even Peter smiled as he rose to his feet and wrapped one of his arms around your back to pull you into his side. 

"Okay, third best dad in the world then," you amended, grinning. 

"That's better," your dad piped up, smiling. "Now what's this I hear about a faulty crib? Sam said he can hear Peter cursing all the way from his room."

Peter groaned, tilting his head backwards in exasperation as you laughed out loud. 

"It isn't faulty, I'm just an idiot," Peter grumbled. Everyone but him chuckled, and your dad walked further into the room. He clapped a hand on Peter's back as he grinned at the younger man. 

"Normally I'd agree with you, but I know if I do Steve will bring up how Y/N had to sleep in the bassinet for like 6 months because we couldn't figure out how to put her crib together."

"You mean you couldn't figure it out," your Pops snorted from his place in the doorway. "As I recall, I was not allowed to help with the furniture because you were determined to figure it out on your own."

Bucky shrugged, seemingly indifferent to his husband's insinuation. 

"Whatever. Point is, I wanted to see if you wanted some help putting it together. Thought I might be able to give you some tips," your dad continued. Peter's smile widened, and he nodded eagerly before your dad knelt down to help try and make sense of the directions.

The discussion after the incident in the training room had gone much better than you would've ever imagined. Both your dads had been relatively calm once they'd returned from their mission, and surprisingly there had been no screaming, no crying, and no threats towards Peter from Bucky like you'd been picturing. The four of you had sat down together and had a long, mature discussion of what your plans were in terms of raising and caring for your child, and by the end your dads had even seemed enthusiastic about the prospect of being grandparents. Their involvement and excitement had only grown in the following months to the point now that you felt silly for ever having been frightened to tell them. 

And now as you stood watching your boyfriend and dad work together to put your child's room together, tears began collecting in your eyes and you felt your chest warm with feelings of overwhelming love. Steve, noticing your tears, moved to wrap his arms around you and you leaned your head against his shoulder. Rubbing your belly lovingly, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for the men in your life and love for the little one that you'd all be meeting soon. 

[luvlyrv]

Our Songs | pt. 6 | Wendy x F!Reader SM!AU

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I hope the word count marginally makes up for the fact this series has been on a three month hiatus lol, don't worry though it'll finish soon!

Date: 6/10/21

Series Masterlist

Ever since you and Wendy exchanged numbers you find your hand unconsciously reaching out to your phone throughout the day. You hope to find a notification from her when you turn it on. Thankfully she always seemed to respond back, but even when she didn't you'd put your phone down to repeat the loop. You tried your best to make sure it didn't interfere with your work, but still, your day was marked by Wendy. Although she wasn't there physically your conversations always carried through day and night.

You've known her to be a warm person, always friendly and comforting. You hope you're not reading into things too much, but sometimes you read her messages and your heart skips a beat. The way she would talk about you would make you flustered. It would force you to put your phone down for a second, unable to comprehend the positivity. Then the thought that maybe she was flirting would creep into your head.

The idea that you're just imagining things always comes back to fight it though.

Shaking your head you decide not to contemplate the idea further. After all she was going to come over soon and you needed to focus on finishing your songs. Thinking about any possible romantic feelings was the last thing you wanted to do. Especially with her in front of you.

Luckily the thoughts dissipate as you zone into the work in front of you, scrutinizing every detail you possibly could. You let yourself sink into the feeling of the songs, letting it help guide your decisions in mixing. As quickly as you get focused though, you're broken out of your zone when you hear knocking on the door. Before answering you run to the mirror and take a quick look while trying to make sure you look presentable. When you rush up to the door to open it you act like nothing happened.

"H-hello! Welcome again to my humble abode!" You say it with a smile, trying to suppress the sudden fluttering feeling in your stomach.

"Hey!" She says while looking up and down at you. "Looks like we're accidentally matching today, huh?" Wendy walks past the door and you close it behind her. You take a moment to look at her outfit and then at yours. The both of you had a very blue color palette.

"Well, way to steal the spotlight. You look way cuter than me." You don't sound as confident as you'd like, your voice bordering on the softer and quieter side. You realize you haven't felt this nervous in a while.

"As if that could ever be possible!" Wendy turns her head back at you as she walks towards your room. She rolls her eyes and sticks her tongue at you, only to quickly smile at your remark. "Now stop being silly and let's work."

You follow her into your bedroom and sit down in front of your computer. She sits on a familiar stool and the two of you immediately start working. You share what you have so far, all you do is record some more vocals, including harmonies and adlibs. You polish things with Wendy by your side to help make some stylistic choices. It took a few hours that only felt like mere minutes.

The sun is still out, unlike the first time the two of you had worked together. This leads you to ask Wendy something before she would leave.

"While we're here we should just record the collab video, yeah?" Wendy's eyes light up in recollection of your previous conversation.

"That sounds good, how about we do the Q&A type video today? I can just message Yeri for some questions."

"Sure, I'll ask Seulgi to make up some interesting things for us to answer too."

The two of you didn't have to wait long as both of your friends replied fast, excited to help out and excited to have some questions answered. You situate yourself next to Wendy in a comfortable position and get the camera ready. After getting the camera in position you take the time to fix the lighting in your room, making sure to have a soft and natural feeling with the lights.

Finally, the red light begins to blink on your camera and you wave. Wendy follows along and flashes the camera a friendly look. You give a quick introduction for the video.

"Hey everybody! I'm here with Wendy today to do a little Q&A type video for you guys! We've both gotten some questions from our friends and it's just to share a little about us, how we feel about our collaboration, behind the scenes type of stuff, you know?" Wendy tilts her head and looks at you as you talk, nodding to your words.

"I really can't wait to answer these questions with you." She says with a smile. She looks back at the camera as she pulls her phone out and looks at her messages with Yeri. "Neither of us have prepared any script or anything. We've barely even looked at the questions they've sent us!" You nudge Wendy with your elbow and laugh at a thought.

"What if they sent us something inappropriate?"

"Oh god, Yeri totally would." You both giggle before Wendy prompts you to start reading questions first.

"Alright we'll stop wasting our audience's precious time now. My dear Seulgi's first question is… "what were your first impressions?" Wendy doesn't hesitate to answer the question as soon as it was asked.

"Oh! Whenever Y/N entered the café we were meeting in I was kind of surprised! She doesn't post a lot of pics of herself so to see someone as talented as her in real life was an honor. She's really cute, right?" She reaches out to pinch the cheek of your so-called cute face. You strain a smile of embarrassment at her antics.

"Yeah yeah, I don't record myself a lot." When she stops her assault on your face you follow-up with your opinion. "For Wendy… I was also really surprised… I think I'm really lucky. You guys should know that a camera really doesn't do her justice! When I first met her she certainly gave off a very approachable demeanor too."

"Why do you think that?"

"I don't know? I was really nervous meeting you, yet when I saw you and when we got to talk the atmosphere turned into something really comfortable fast. Let's just move on to the next question." You take a look at your phone again to see Seulgi's question. "What's your favorite thing about the other? Well, Wendy has always been so sweet, it's been wonderful working with her. I appreciate the care and dedication to her work that she has shown me. Her musicality really helped pull everything together, and when I was stuck she was always there to give me a fresh perspective."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you." Wendy says with a blush on her face, her hand covering her face as she laughs a bit. "It's strange to be talking to you like this, I feel like. I think you're a really straightforward person but we haven't really talked about our opinions to this extent! Especially to a camera. Ah… well I think I could really say everything the same for Y/N." Wendy nods a bit in thought before continuing on. "To add to it though, I think Y/N has just always been so considerate to me. Like, beyond being a great musician she has been a good person to me. I think if you've seen some of our interactions on Twitter you'll know that she ended up cooking a wonderful meal for me on our first meeting. I think that if she wasn't as nice as she is, we wouldn't have had this much fun together… wait, this has been fun for you too, right?"

"Oh my god, yes it has. How could you doubt that?" You punch her arm with a fake upset face. You turn back to the camera. "Guys, we've hung out and have talked soooo much outside of our collab. I literally don't understand how she can have a single doubt in her mind about us having fun."

"It doesn't hurt to clarify! Anyways, next question now! And stop punching so hard!"

"Oh hush, it wasn't that hard. Oh hmm, to go along with that Seulgi wonders what our least favorite thing about each other is."

"That's an easy one!" Wendy says all too excitedly. You make a shocked expression, worry flooding your system as Wendy points at you with a smile. "I hate how you're absolutely brimming with talent! Your work is impeccable! Musical genius!"

You groan as your body crumples. "You nearly gave me a heart attack…" Your voice is muffled between your knees.

"It's true though!" Wendy says in a sing-song voice, her face smug in satisfaction to see your scared reaction. "Otherwise there's nothing I can really say."

You gather the strength to get back up and face the camera, then Wendy. Your face is still filled with disappointment but you take your time to stare at Wendy. As you stare at her she seems to come undone as she nervously looks away.

"What are you doing?" A red color subtly creeps up her neck.

"I'm just thinking. I'm thinking that… You also have nothing wrong with you." Wendy can't help but to roll her eyes at your comment. "Except for being awfully cheesy. It makes me wanna go bury myself in a ditch so I won't have to hear your stupid cheesiness again."

"Whatever, whatever. It's my turn to read the questions. Now… this is a good one, "what has the work process been like?"

"Well that's obvious, I do all the work and Wendy leeches off of me like a parasite."

"Hey! Just because it's true doesn't mean you have to say it to the world!" Her response throws you into a fit of laughter, turning you into a mess.

"Oh my, no no! It's really not like that. I would say we have an equal workload, or a workload that makes sense between our respective positions." Wendy shakes her head in disagreement.

"I don't feel so. I feel like Y/N always does so much work, and she does it so quickly too. It makes me feel kind of bad when I sit beside her and see her work her magic. When she's focused and working so hard it's quite amazing."

"Ah geez." You shyly scratch the back of your neck. "Wendy's always like this, complimenting me. Like I said earlier though, she really helps bring me new perspective when I'm stuck and her musicality is like nothing else. She always takes the time to sit next to me and monitor things too. It's not like she's a third party to the process. Not only that," You take the time to send Wendy a smile in an attempt to reassure her that you're not burdened with work. You want her to know that you appreciate her part of the creative process, "but nothing really feels like hard work when I'm with you."

Wendy has a hard time processing your words, so instead of addressing it she decides to just further elaborate her answer to the question.

"Well, I'll just lay down the process for everyone. Obviously, Y/N produces and I sing. Although after enough convincing from me you'll hear her singing on the tracks as well, so say thank you! It all started when Y/N took the time to reach out to me, which I was really excited about by the way, and then we both agreed to meet up at a local place. We just talked about concepts and our availability. We both ended up writing songs and worked together on what we wanted to keep or change. Everything productive happens here," Wendy opens her arms to gesture to the area around her, "at Y/N's place. Even though I have audio equipment at my place too we just record things here."

"Yeah, everything she said is true. I have a little set-up here in my room. I don't think I've ever really shown you guys it? I mean, I've shown my guitar collection before but not all my other equipment yet. I'll film that another time though. Next question?"

"Oh this is kind of interesting to think about, "what do you think the reception of your mini-album will be?" The both of you take a moment to think about it. Recalling many of the things you've read on social media you decided to speak first.

"Well, I think it'll be extremely beneficial to the both of us in multiple ways. I mean first off, I guess by our genre of music we have a lot of overlap between fans. There's been an overwhelming amount of support from fans who are excited to see the both of us collaborate and interact. I have no doubt that it'll do well since it's so highly anticipated by our fans. It'll be even better if you guys manage to stream and share it!" Throughout your explanation you begin to give Wendy shy glances. "I think that even if we drop our music and it doesn't meet much success, I would've gained a lot. I think working together with Wendy has helped me grow as a musician and anything that I learn here I will utilize in the future."

At your last comment Wendy seemed to get excited and she quickly added on.

"Exactly! If anything the most important part about all of this is the fact that I have gained skills as a musician and gained a friend. That greatly outweighs any potential of success." Wendy has a bright smile on her face, happy to be able to call you a friend.

"That doesn't mean we don't want you guys to go ahead and share our music by the way." You joke light-heartedly. "It would mean a lot if you did."

"Now final question for this video! We've been talking too much." Wendy looks at her phone, unlike before she takes a couple seconds before reading the question aloud. "Uh, I think this should be fun to answer. "What do you want to do in the future together?" I think that obvious answer is to make more music!"

You chuckle at her answer before responding as well. "Going to each other's places to have a jam session doesn't sound bad, but hanging out in general is good. We'll definitely continue being friends, and if the reception for our collab is really good we might do another one? That is, of course, if Wendy is okay with that."

"I would be more than happy to do that. I was also thinking of forcing you to binge watch more shows and movies with me."

"Only if you stop hogging the popcorn. Anyways, I think this should be the end of our video. I highly encourage all of you to check-out Wendy's channel in a couple days. The day right before release we're going to be dropping one more video together! Bye-bye!" You wave a goodbye to the camera with a smile. Wendy joins you in your outro.

"See you guys soon!"

You go to turn your camera off as Wendy goes to gather her things. After turning off your lights you go to sit back down on your seat, importing the recently filmed footage to your computer. Wendy takes this moment to sit down next to you again.

"Again, thank you for your hard work!" She says it with a smile as she brings her hand on your arm. "I'm always amazed with the quality of your work and how quickly you can do it."

"No problem, I'll send the songs to you later for your feedback. We'll be able to post everything soon." You smile back at her and give her hand a comforting squeeze. A part of you wishes you could keep your hand there forever.

"Alright, well see you at my place soon!"

When you finally hear the click of your door closing you let out a sigh. You don't want to think about it. You don't want to face it.

You don't want to face the possibility that you've fallen.

[griff-us]

Title: Being So Normal Part: One Pairing: Black!Reader/Bucky Barnes Summary: Neither of them are very good at being normal. Good thing the spectrum of normalcy these days is anything but the definition of the word. In other words: two broken people mend together. Warnings: typical canon level violence, mentions of past abuse both physical and emotional, alcohol abuse and mentions of, drug abuse and mentions of.

Chapter Theme: Being So Normal, Peach Pit

Notes: Just a little self-indulgent series that's been sitting in the back of my brain that I have finally decided to work on after kinda scraping the previous one.

Sort of a Neighbors's AU mixed with a Coffee Shop Au. Lots of character introspection for the reader, and Bucky, and some fun and drama along the way. This will no doubt be a slow slow burn.

Hope yall enjoy and feel free to leave any comments or hit me with questions! Oh, mood board slapped together by me! Also, no Beta. Tbh I'm lazy and impatient so excuse any mistakes.

Saturday: 11:30pm

Sam was the one who convinced him to come---or maybe forced would be the better word. Life has been returning to somewhat normal for the two of them; Sam shouldering his mantle as Captain America, and James slowly easing into his role as Sergeant Barnes rather than The Winter Soldier. But, it’s not all easy, at least not for James. Normalcy is not his strong suit, not when the urgency of survival had been drilled into his skull for the past hundred years or so. Sure, he was comfortable, but not necessarily happy. James is lost, and no one can tell that more than Sam.

And that is how he’s found himself in this crowded club with flashing lights and a bass beat that he can feel in the pit of his stomach. It’s not that the environment is too much---it’s just that he feels so...odd out. After all, Jame’s idea of a night out used to be something more akin to a jazz bar and dancing. Not whatever gyrations and wiggling around the kids called dancing was these days.

God, he really is old.

“You gotta loosen up man, you’re killing my vibe.” Sam, as if on cue, shoulders into him. James scowls, making sure to keep a tight grip on his beer---if you could even call it that. The brewery it was from managed to pack so many damn spices and fruit in it that it tasted more like a cocktail than any beer he’s come to like.

“You’ve got a weird vibe then, Sam.” the other man laughs, elbows resting against the bar top behind them while he scopes out the scene. It’s a typical New York club; fashion being the forefront of it all, the entire reason anyone is out right now is to be seen and admired. Among other things.

“That cutie over there keeps tossing you looks, you should go say hi.” James follows Sam’s gaze across the bar. A gaggle of young women crowds around a booth, all of them eyeing them and whispering to one another. He rolls his eyes and takes a long swig of his beer.

“I think you mean they’re looking at you, Sam.” The super soldier turns back toward the bar to push his empty glass to the bartender who only nods his way and produces a refill without another word.

“Eyes up, Sergeant, they’re coming over.”

James doesn’t pay any mind to the coming onslaught; it’s always the same really. Sam is descended on by a group of gals excited to meet the new Captain America and even more enthralled when they realize he’s pretty damn charming. Not that he’s jealous in any way. Annoyed? Sure. See, he just isn’t one for new people---especially the kind that Sam tends to attract sometimes. The airheads, the young ones just waiting to hook up and never talk again. He just can’t vibe with it, can’t grasp it. Maybe he is too old for this modern age of love and romance.

James just turns his attention to the muted TV over the bar, his back facing the chatty group of women behind him while they flock to Sam like vultures starving for a meal. The news flashes between stories from all over; follow-ups on the last of the Flag Smashers, some weird disturbances in a tiny town somewhere far off, and a local story on a stray cat that is just “too cute to not have a home.” He snorts, lips smacking from the twang of his beer.

“Sorry about them.” The tiny voice from his left nearly makes him jump, and James can only blame the blaring music for his lack of attention.

“Huh?” He peers down to see an average height woman; with big brown eyes and skin a deep tan and sunkissed. By all accounts, she is stunning---and looks nearly as out of place in this massive club as he does.

“My friends---” her head jerks towards the group of women still fawning over Sam, who no doubt is loving all of the attention. “I tried to explain to them that you guys are just normal people too," she thinks they're normal? "but the alcohol made them all braver than they normally are.” The woman rolls her eyes but by the soft smile she wears he can tell she means no malice.

“And what about you?” James leans his full weight on the bar top now all the while inching closer to the woman. He can read the confusion on her face. “Are you feeling braver than normal?” she flushes at his clarification, and an easy shrug rolls from the shoulder.

“I’m just the mom friend trying to make sure my friends don’t end up dead, in jail, or worse.” James can’t help but laugh at that.

“A mom friend, huh?” gloved fingers pluck the pint glass from the bar and neither of them breaks eye contact while he swallows nearly half the glass.

“Yeah, kind of how I’ve always been; just an eighty-year-old woman at heart I guess.” James gives her a crooked grin: he could understand that.

“You’re too young to talk like that.” he elbows her gently, suddenly so comfortable with her presence that he can feel himself loosening up a bit.

“Then what’s your excuse?”

Brows cock high, that twisted little grin never once wavering from his face. He likes her---the idle and quiet wit, the way she matches his quips with equal stride.

“What’s your---” but before he can finish the group of girls are flagging her down, yanking her arm in one direction while they all gossip about how someone managed to snag Captain America’s number. James watches while she shoots him an apologetic smile while she is all but dragged back to their booth across the dance floor. Before he knows it, her face is lost in a sea of people.

“You would pick up the prettiest one.” Sam’s voice yanks James from his thoughts, and he looks up with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think I didn’t see that little flirt session. You get her number?”

“I’m going home.” James slaps a crisp bill on the bar top and Sam laughs, all loud and boisterous.

“You didn’t even get her name, did you, man?”

“Good night, Sam!” with hands shoved deep in his pockets, James turns heels and heads home.

Sunday: 8:am

The mornings were his favorite time to jog. Consider it a coping mechanism---not that he necessarily needed to go for mile-long runs or work out, what with the serum, but it was the only time his mind was truly quiet. So, James kept to a strict schedule of an hour or so run every morning followed up by a tall dark roast. Only today, he is late by nearly an hour to get to his usual coffee spot; which wouldn’t be terrible but James lives for routines. Without one, his entire day is skewed.

It’s eight in the morning when he strolls into the coffee shop, a tiny little place sat precariously on the corner of two streets only a couple blocks from his apartment. Clad in joggers and a simple black t-shirt, he strides up to the counter; eyes glued to the menu board for any new sweets that may catch his eye.

“Well hi again.” brows grow taught at their center---he knows that voice. James looks down to see the same woman from the night before. Black hair is piled high on her head and rather than the slim little dress from the night before she sports simple leggings and a graphic shirt of which the reference he is utterly lost on.

“Oh. Hi...uh....” blue eyes look for a name tag, and he finds none. Damn it.

“Y/N” she smiles wide at him, much like she had in the club only this time, with better lighting, he can make out the dimples that crease each of her cheeks.

“Y/N.” he repeats her name back slowly. “Uh, nice to meet you, or see you again. I guess.” he points to himself, “I’m Bucky.” said so lamely, so simply, he really can’t blame her for laughing at him.

“I know. What can I get for you, James?”

James.

That throws him; tosses him so off-kilter the man can hardly remember his order. Sure a couple people call him James, well really only his mother and his therapist when he’s in deep shit but…. To hear a name nearly forgotten to himself, and from her? Well, it turns his brain to static.

“Just a large black coffee and one of those brownies please.” She nods and starts to prep his order, all the while he stands there like an idiot with a ten-dollar bill in his hand and his heart in his throat. Finally, he finds a safe landing back on earth.

“How was the rest of your night with your friends?” Y/N groans while she pours him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Catty. I finally got the last one home around three in the morning. Got home just in time for a nap before I came in here.”

“That sounds---awful.” James trades her the coffee for the ten, and watches while she works the register.

“Wasn’t so bad. I don’t sleep much these days anyway.” Y/N offers the change back to James but only nods his head toward the tip jar.

“Sounds like you earned it. Did you just start working here?" he's never seen her working here before, and per his routine, James is here around this time at least five times a week.

"Covering for a friend, I usually work the closing shift if I'm not teaching." Teaching? James would assume she'd be on the younger side to teach.

"I'll have to come more often around that time then." he watches while round cheeks twitch, and flush.

“Deal. I’ll uh...see you around, James?”

“Y-yeah. See you around, Y/N”

[ben-solo98]

I can’t believe anyone at Warner Bros thought it was a good idea to release the theatrical version of JUSTICE LEAGUE when this version exists. I’m glad Zack was allowed to come back and show us his true vision. It could just be the 4 hour runtime, but it feels like an epic from the classic days of Hollywood. I really like Zack Snyder, I think he's a visionary director. I also think he's overpraised and overhated at the same time. He has a very vocal and passionate fanbase who think he's a god of cinema and then there's an equally vocal group of people who think he's one of the worst things to ever happen to movies. I like him a reasonable amount. Even if I don't always love his movies in their entirety, he's puts some of the most beautiful visuals on screen that I've ever seen, especially in the comic book movie genre. He also made me appreciate Superman, I've loved superheroes my entire life, but I was mostly into Marvel when I was a kid and when I did venture over to DC it was primarily for Batman, couldn't care less about Superman. Boring. Until I sat in a packed theater in June of 2013 to watch MAN OF STEEL in IMAX 3D and Zack Snyder (and everyone else involved) blew my mind and finally made me understand/appreciate the character of Superman. I'll even defend that Kevin Costner death scene, I don't care. Supes is only a small part of this film, but all of the scenes featuring him and/or the supporting characters from his solo ouing were some of my favorites, because of what Zack and the cast (especially Henry Cavill) had set up in the previous two films, but also because it was usually underlined by Hans Zimmer's amazing Superman theme.

On paper, the story is very similar to the theatrical version, but it feels like a completely different film. I didn't hate the theatrical cut when it first came out, but it definitely felt like it was nowhere near what it could have been and the more time that has passed and more we've learned about the controversies behind the scenes of those reshoots, the more problems I've found myself having with it. There's a different tone to this cut and while it's still not a perfect film, it's executed 1,000 times better. There's only about 4 or 5 scenes that I think are exactly the same and obviously since this movie is twice as long it's mostly new footage. My two favorite scenes from the theatrical version were Wonder Woman's entrance and the History of the Mother Boxes. Both scenes were still present here, but they were extended, more brutal and all around more awesome. Which just proves you gotta let Zack complete his vision, he knows what he's doing. It also proves that most of what was likable about the last one was because of Zack. Ray Fisher as Cyborg was a big highlight for me the last time around. Another character I didn't really care about until I saw his portrayal of him, which really says something about how great of an actor he is because he's been very vocal about how he was mistreated making that version of the movie, plus his role wasn't nearly as significant, but he still came out as one of the only really great things about that film. He's even better here, we get some much needed backstory on his character and next to Superman, he's kind of the heart and soul of the movie, it all falls apart without him. And it's refreshing to see a black character like this portrayed in such a positive way, I'm certainly not an expert on the subject, but I couldn't help but think that we don't really get to see black men cry much on screen. I really hope this isn't the last time we see him take on this role.

Ezra Miller as the Flash is a big step up as well, I didn't hate their interpretation in the last film, but the Flash was definitely my least favorite character. Wasn't ever excited about the character's upcoming solo film until now, my mind has been changed. Ezra Miller is a very solid Barry Allen and brings some much needed humor to the table. His powers are also fully utilized here, that's the thing about this cut of the movie, every character gets their moment to shine. I still think this film was lacking in the Aquaman department, there's some continuity issues between this movie and his stand alone feature. Mainly that we're introduced to two supporting players from his film and they feel like completely different characters. All of my Aquaman problems happen in the first half, I still thought Jason Momoa did a great job. I'm one of the few people (maybe the only person) who's been a Batfleck fan since the day they announced Ben was cast in the role, it's a shame we'll never get to see him in any Batman solo movies, I was really looking forward to that. J.K. Simmons is only in two scenes as Commissioner Gordon, but I want like 5 Batman films with him reprising his role. There's actually a few big actors who were in the first one and I didn't know why they agreed to do it and they don't get much more screen time here, but they actually feel crucial to the story. Also Jeremy Irons is an underrated Alfred, I think Jeremy Irons is just underrated period.

Steppenwolf is definitely a worthy villain this time around. I don't know why Joss Whedon decided to change his design or his motives/backstory, or why you'd completely cut out Darkseid, but that sucked, this was good. Occasionally he'd say something that made him sound like a bad guy from an 80s cartoon or old video game, but overall it was good.

Tom Holkenborg's score is phenomenal. Danny Elfman did it for the other one, I usually like him, but Tom's works a lot better. And some of Danny's comments make it seem like he has a really big ego and Tom's have made me feel the opposite. Almost everytime Wonder Woman came on screen this female warrior cry/siren song (I don't know how else to describe it) would play, at first I thought it was cool, but after 4 hours it got old. That's my only criticism about the score. There were a few "strange" music choices, Zack is known for those, sometimes I think he just does it because he likes to troll the haters, I respect it regardless. But, the last film had two covers recorded for it I really liked: "Everybody Knows" by Sigrid and "Come Together" by Gary Clarke Jr. (Which I've been on record saying it's "better than the Beatles' version"). I missed those songs a little, but also, not a big deal, ultimately.

I thought the 4 hour runtime would be way too long, but honestly, it worked. Nothing felt unnecessary, the story flowed at a reasonable pace. Sure, you could have probably cut out the last twenty minutes because it gives the film 3 or 4 different endings that just set up future films that will probably never happen now (I hope I'm proven wrong), but as a fan, I loved those scenes. I'm looking forward to see what happens and if anything good in the realm of DC films comes of releasing this. 8.6/10.

[heisalonetonight]

hi - anon from before - pls excuse me bc i'm absolutely /sobbing/ at your response bruh. thank /you/ for answering so openly (just like Adrien! :0 ) I'm shook at the fact you started publishing from 14 to now, that's incredible!! can i ask what you published? :0 Also wow @ that characterization of Adrien towards the end, it really makes a lot of sense!! is there a difference between Adrien and Chat? Or are they similar but just show different amounts of certain feelings? :0

Oh, just poems and stories! I don’t want to show off lol they were achievements for sure but I’m sure you have something better to do than read about them :P And thank you, I have a lot of opinions about who Adrien is and how he does it. Onto Chat vs Adrien - I think inherently they are the same person, obviously, but Chat Noir lives without the same sort of ... suffocation, I guess? Being Adrien Agreste is work. That’s something that he carries with him every minute of every day - being an Agreste means that there are always cameras somewhere, and his every move is scrutinised. As much as Adrien likes to kick back and relax with his friends, and really does love and trust them very deeply (and god, he loves being called ‘dude’!), the role his friends play in Adrien’s life is actually very minor, by necessity (not by choice: he would always choose to hang out with those guys, sans the nights his father promises he’ll make it to dinner this time - this time). He is working. He has expectations to manage and a phone which is waiting to call him home at the drop of a hat when his father hasn’t quite managed to make this meeting, could he please stand in, or Adrien, there’s a charity event you need to attend, or Adrien, please turn another 13 degrees to the left so the cameras can get your smile properly while you talk to your friends. Adrien’s got a lot of very high expectations put on him which are inherently expectations, rather than goals - they are things he can fall short of or meet, but they are so high it is impossible to exceed them, so his options are disappointing his father or .... not disappointing him. 

Adrien really, really cares about his father. I think it’s underestimated, the turmoil that he goes through in Chat Blanc - since the disappearance of his mother his father really, truly changed, and Adrien really believes that that’s because Gabriel is trying to hold things together. He thinks his father has, essentially, fallen apart, and when has it ever been like Adrien to hold somebody’s turmoil and fear and sickness against them? His father is sick. He’s afraid of going outside, he’s afraid for Adrien so hard that it’s sometimes suffocating, and Adrien wants him to get better. Before he met Ladybug, Adrien Agreste needed to find something - some relationship - to anchor himself into, to strap himself onto and not let go of, and for him that relationship was his father’s. To Adrien, he and Gabriel are a team. The same sort of team Ladybug and Chat Noir are, the same sort of inherent and unbreakable bond that they have: he is inseperable from his father. Whatever this terrible grief is, whatever it has stolen from Gabriel, they are in it together. They are in it together and it is just Adrien’s turn to be the part of the team who does more work, and that is because Gabriel is self-destructing, and Adrien aches for his father to be better, more than he aches to be wanted. And besides, Adrien doesn’t do love like that (here’s a link to the fic exactly on that subject!). He doesn’t do it like his father needs to earn it, he has been loved like that before - like he could be loved if only he was good enough - and he would not wish that on his worst enemy, much less the people he loves. Gabriel does not owe him anything, to earn Adrien’s love. If the only way to express it - their partnership - is through the avenues of work that Gabriel opens up to him, asks him to do, then that’s what Adrien will do. He considers them a team. 

Chat Noir, meanwhile, has a different partner - a teammate who will play the game with him in equal parts, who often overtakes him because she is just amazing and dynamic and beautiful, who soars past him on gilded wings and takes his breath away. And then she turns back to offer him her hand, to pull him onward, because she loves him, and it has never in her entire life ever been a problem for Ladybug that she did not feel loved, that she did not know how to show people that they were wanted. She has never even hesitated to smile for people - especially Chat - or to support him when he’s down. She has been wildly, miraculously, crazily kind to him, and been open about her emotions, and accessible, and responsive, and amazing, and his best friend (sorry Nino) he’s ever had, the best friend he’s ever been lucky enough to meet. And you know his luck! She takes his breath away not just because she is kind and gentle and soft, where everybody else in his life has always been hard, but because she is basically a genius and she knows it, and she’s ridiculously impressive, and Adrien Agreste, my friends, is 100% the sort of guy who is turned on by girls who can kick his butt, that is the sort of thing he loves, not least because they don’t need him to be doing anything - they don’t need him in the charity event, they don’t need him to be on call, they don’t need him - but they want him. Ladybug wants him. And if she does need him, it’s only in equal parts to how often and how badly he needs her. She is so.... Anyway. Let’s not go on a long rant about what he loves about Ladybug, I do need to finish this response conceivably within the next several years. The key difference between Chat Noir and Adrien Agreste is that the people who they tie themselves into the world with either love him or they don’t, and Adrien feels like he must be doing something wrong (not being able to reach his father properly - he thinks he just hasn’t found the right path - he thinks they are a team and it is his job to reach him, and he hasn’t done it, yet, and it make him a bad teammate), though he is very quiet about his confusion, and he does what he is asked to do because he has very little alternative. Ladybug’s team... being on Ladybug’s team comes as easily as breathing. It makes him happy. It teaches him everything he needs to be taught about the world, about how love works, about what it is like when you are just - well - happy, and you don’t care if anybody is watching. That same thing can be said, increasingly, more and more often, of Adrien’s time he spends with his friends - Marinette and Kagami and Nino and Alya and Max and everybody - and in fact we have seen the influence of people who really love him leaking into his behaviour, as he is slowly departing from doing every single thing his father ever asks from him, as he sneaks off to London (from which he was, I remind you, once banned, even though he could have gone to his uncle’s funeral) with nary a glance behind him, with this breathy little exhilaration which is only cemented by his friends’ acceptance and excitement rather than disgust and disappointment. He hosts his party. He finds ways to live when he still can, he finds ways to breathe these stolen gasps of air when he’s got the time to do it, and it just would not have occurred to him to even try, before this series started. Before he met someone (in this case, Plagg) who offered him an out. 

There’s a lot to write about Chloe here as well, but I am already several paragraphs deep into this. Chloe’s role as his only friend is important and he really does like her a lot, she is one of his closest and is literally his oldest friend, and there’s a lot to be said for how he defends her and tries for her and believes in her. They are genuinely, really friends. But we’re not getting into it. 

As Adrien prioritises his partnership - his team - with Ladybug more and more, he is growing to learn what a real team looks like. Chat is loose and easy and relaxed and he relishes that, and he loves being with her more than he loves anything else in the entire world, because he has her back and he really believes she has his, and the whole rest of the world really doesn’t matter. I’ve written about this before - he has long-held beliefs about the world, absolute truths that he feels he can dig and dig and dig and dig and he will never come out the other side, they’re just true. They’re just true. 

But it costs Adrien something, to believe that he is a team with his father, and it does not cost him anything to believe the same of his best friend. Still, he will not ever let one of his absolute truths go easily (which is why he struggles with Kagami so much - one of his truths is that he is in love with Ladybug; and why he struggles with Chat Blanc, letting his father go, even though he knew that’s what he had to do), and that is why ... he is a sad boy. It is because he is fighting to find out where the truth is. He knows it has to be there somewhere. He knows it has to be buried somewhere under these swathes of work and isolation and barely-acceptable-son-but-thanks-for-trying behaviour. He just isn’t looking hard enough, there is want, somewhere under there. Gabriel wants him, somewhere there. It does not help that Gabriel throws out occasionally flashes of love, a hug here, concern for him there, a conversation once a month. It doesn’t help that he is being strung along. 

(As a spoiler, Adrien is wasting his time.) 

Anyway, the differences between Adrien and Chat are really just how much of Adrien is actually welcome, at any one time. Adrien mostly just works for his father, has always mostly just done work, he has a packed schedule - and nobody cares who Adrien is, they care what the young Monsieur Agreste can do for them. Chat is always welcome. Chat is always wanted. Chat always feels wanted, and she finds new ways to make him feel it almost every time he sees her. He craves that, and flourishes in it. I guess that’s the main difference. 

[realitykeeper]

the path to tomorrow

01 ｜ Dracula

an mha / bnha fanfiction

Quirkless: a very uncommon term in today’s world. 80% of the population lived with these abilities deemed quirks, a word riddled with disgusting impurity. They had taught Asuka this, trained her to one day destroy quirks and lead them on the path to tomorrow.

Asuka was quirkless, and to exist without a quirk was to be a freak. Asuka was a freak.

And they couldn’t have been more proud.

　　Asuka numbly steps through the Yūei entryway, the larger-than-life school casting a shadow over her already dark mood. She glares at the shiny windows, glares at the chattering students, glares at the perfect trees and perfect sky and perfect concrete.

　　It'd been easy to pass the exam — disgustingly so in Asuka's judgement. She'd expected better from the illustrious Yūei High. And now she was here, something she wasn't pleased about. Just being in the presence of these wannabe heroes sets a crawling itch under her skin, one she needs to claw out and string up to dry as the blood stains—

　　Asuka pins her gaze on cracks in the wall, swears they crack even more under her angry stare.

　　She focuses on her plan, on her purpose. Asuka has to learn anything and everything about her future enemies. She has to examine this generation and their quirks; the powerhouses and the dark horses. Any quirk used well was dangerous, a threat she had to get rid of, plucking the bud before it bloomed.

　　Asuka focuses on keeping her thrashing blood at a normal rate. The girl can hear her over-stimulated veins working in her ears, the sound jostling her composure and releasing images of the surrounding students covered in blood.

　　Someone mimics the pounding, echoing off the walls with equal anger and causing the students to part like the red sea.

　　She no longer holds back her thoughts as Asuka's crimson eyes stare at a marching Bakugo Katsuki. Images of digging out his sweat glands with her scalpel filling her mind, delighted at the thought of destroying the disgusting quirk he was so enamoured by.

　　She giggles. And her red eyes meet equally red, equally angry, eyes.

　　"What the fuck are you giggling at!?"

　　Asuka tilts her head, her black hair spilling over her pale face, a tantamount image to her quaking anger against her calm facade. They hold each other's eyes; red against red, Asuka's still with curiosity and Katsuki's twitching with irritation.

　　Katsuki's lack of patience becomes clear to the girl immediately. "Well!? What the fuck, you damn Dracula!?"

　　The ravenette closes her eyes, sifting through the images in her mind that call to her– plead for her to make them a reality. She hums softly and deflates, then continues walking, ignoring the boy's outbursts and taunts. Asuka assumes Katsuki will run after her and try to start a fight — a fight that she will gladly accept — but when she finds nothing thrown her way, she considers that she may have judged him incorrectly—

　　An explosion to her left proves Asuka's first theory correct.

　　"Who the fuck do you think you are!? I won't let you run away!"

　　The ravenette stares blankly in front of her, grip tightening around her bag strap as Katsuki stomps towards her. She feels his breath on the back of her shirt, hotter and a lot closer than it should be.

　　The images rush to her. A blinding slideshow of bone white and blood red and she has to stop herself from slicing Katsuki's throat and revelling in the way his life essence will cascade down his broad and, sadly, unmarked throat.

　　"Heh, not so damn smart now hey, Dracula," Katsuki jeers, all gritted teeth and hot breath.

　　She can feel his smirk burning a hole into the back of her skull, she can practically see and smell the burning charcoal camouflaged in her black hair. Her nails dig into her palm and it tethers her to the disgustingly stark and blood free corridors. She feels eyes everywhere but knows none of the surrounding students are paying any mind to her losing her goddamn mind.

　　She pivots on her heels and meets his eyes again. A deep breath through her nose sends her head spinning, and she realises she hadn't been breathing and the smell of disinfectant and perfume — and is that sweat? — was making her nauseous. Asuka takes another breath before speaking. "If I'm Dracula, then you're Explodo-Boy." The girl hears the blond choke at the name but she's already continuing. "Also, did you forget to wash this morning? You reek of sweat."

　　The silence that appears seems like a pause in time and Asuka doesn't know whether or not she should feel relieved that she can hear the chattering of students instead of her own thoughts. Then the growl that escapes vice-like teeth snaps them back in time, makes Asuka focus on the veins trying to escape Katsuki's red neck, makes her think of the delicious things she can do to that neck. And Asuka is back at square one, trying to black out the red, but it was so hard when Katsuki's fury filled crimson met hers.

　　"You bitch... It's a part of my quirk... Just 'cause you're fuckin' older doesn't mean you get to treat me like shit!"

　　Asuka blinks, genuine confusion escaping from her dark mind and replacing the slight amount of intelligence she held. "Older? But I'm– I'm the same age as you..."

　　Katsuki stills, his gaze shifting from Asuka's eyes to the top of her forehead and she realises with a start she's been looking down at the boy this entire time, her height standing over his. It makes a genuine giggle rise from her, a mixture of amusement and cocky glee somehow squirming around her anger.

　　But then Katsuki's entire face fills with that exquisite red and that excited anger is back with a vengeance. The buried childlike side of her likens him to a tomato with blond vines — an amusing sight, truly — smoke wafting from his obnoxiously large hands as splutters of broken speech spill from his forever gritted teeth. "Y-you... You fuckin'–!"

　　Asuka breathes, holds onto that amusement and drowns her anger in it and sighs as the images sink into a murky depth. "You effing Dracula, right?"

　　"What? Too good to curse?" Katsuki sneers, tilting his head back as if to glare down at her, his blazing crimson trying to stoke her dwindling red.

　　The girl smirks with dead eyes, her voice silk on the tense air. "Hardly."

　　Katsuki narrows his eyes at Asuka's retreating form. He notices the lack of swaying in her stride, her entire figure keeping its straight posture. The ravenette looks unnatural amongst the carefree composure's of the surrounding teens, deftly swerving around the babbling groups without them batting an eye as if they don't notice her.

　　The blond squeezes his lips together into a grimace. He doesn't like her. She's all glowing skin and sparkling teeth and malicious intent. It oozes out her entire being like invisible tar, all-encompassing and suffocating. He can't help but to compare her to a snake with its shiny scales camouflaging its danger.

　　He considers that maybe Dracula wasn't the right name to give her. But it's stuck now, and Katsuki wouldn't allow himself to look like a fucking idiot because of a damn nickname.

　　The blond lets her walk off with that lifeless smirk still plastered on her pale face. He didn't like the way she makes his fight-or-flight response jump at her every word, it made him want to blast at her face and run.

　　And Katsuki doesn't like running.

　　Katsuki doesn't like Asuka.

　　The muted clacking of Asuka's shoes becomes her clock against the internal concert of screaming thoughts. She holds onto it with a vice-like grip, allows it to shackle her to reality as she tries to busy herself in the free time she begins to dread.

　　35... 36...

　　The girl had occupied her mind by memorising all the many, many, hallways in Yūei's vast building and the routes to all her classrooms. Next she planned the best escape routes for each moment in her daily schedule in-case she was ever caught — not that she believes that will happen.

　　49... 50...

　　Despite her barely there sanity, Asuka feels confident she knows the school's layout as she meanders to her homeroom, her hold on the clack-clacking becoming desperate without a distraction.

　　60... And 1—

　　A single step into her classroom and she walks into someone, her height not saving her nose from the paralysing sting of knocking into someone's head straight on.

　　Asuka curses and holds her nose as her eyes close instinctively, her clock and thoughts hiding behind the haze of pain that spreads through her whole face, as nose injuries disgustingly do. She silently damns the culprit — why the hell did they stand in the door!?

　　"I knew you fucking cursed, Dracula."

　　Asuka stills, narrowing her eyes against the pain. The tops of her hands becoming the new subject of her glare. The thoughts steamroll back and if Asuka thought the god's hated her before, oh she was damn sure of it now. That didn't stop the girl from hoping and praying. There was no way she was in Katsuki's class, no way—

　　And there he is, sitting at a desk she assumes is now his, his feet crossed on said desk in a way that can only spell arrogance with that violent grin on his face.

　　"And I'm sure my response was 'hardly', or are your ears numb from all those explosions," Asuka drawls, finally pulling her hand away from her face. She straightens herself to her full height and pulls a blank stare onto her face as she steps towards his desk.

　　Her indifference pushes one of Katsuki's many, always pressed, buttons. "You—!" He plants his feet on the floor, ready to stand and start round two—

　　"Ah! That curly hair!"

　　Katsuki and Asuka blink a brief show of flashing red, then they both turn their gazes to the voice. A short girl stands where Asuka was just before, peppy and bright as she looks at the nose-knocker in happiness.

　　Uraraka Ochako, Asuka is sure that's the girl's name, she had an interesting gravity nullifying quirk. Asuka has to admit she felt disgustingly impressed.

　　"The plain-looking boy!" Ochako gushes, babbling on about how he got in and other things Asuka tunes out. She focuses more on the 'plain-looking boy' instead, or as she has dubbed him, Nose-Knocker.

　　Midoriya Izuku, a real pain in the ass already. He'd gotten quite a few glares during the exam briefing for being a muttering mess, but those glares quickly grew to praises after the exam. When Asuka arrived at the Academy's entrance on her way out, all she heard was his name and about his amazing quirk! It disgusted her, especially so when she couldn't find any information on his quirk whatsoever! It's like he never recorded it, which is illegal!

　　Not that the girl ever cared about things being illegal, but that wasn't the point.

　　"If you're here to socialise, then get out."

　　Asuka feels her already shot nerves run from each other and she almost jumps out of her own skin at the sudden voice. The girl turns to stare at the perpetrator, presenting a blank face, pushing down the glare that was begging to come up, and the images that go with it.

　　And oh she was glad she didn't glare. Asuka may not care about much, but even she understood glaring at your homeroom teacher on the first day wasn't a good idea, especially when he's the pro-hero Eraserhead.

　　Though, the sleeping bag he cocooned himself in on the floor wasn't doing him any favours, intimidation wise.

　　Asuka's judgemental thoughts immediately shut up when Aizawa stands up and looms over her as the girl realises that her teacher is taller. She growls a subdued, "Disgusting."

　　"It took eight seconds for you to quiet down," He drawls, sliding out of his cocoon. "Time is a precious resource. You lot aren't very rational, are you?"

　　Asuka slouches, pinning her eyes to her shoes. If she wasn't on the receiving end of Aizawa's comments, she was sure she'd get along with him.

　　"I am your homeroom teacher, Aizawa Shota. Pleased to meet you." He gives no time for introductions as he shoves a gym uniform in Izuku's direction. "Quickly now. Change into your gym clothes and head out onto the grounds."

　　Everyone quickly works up a fuss as Aizawa explains what they were doing: A test of everyone's quirks. Asuka would admit it was a smart move on their teacher's part if it didn't disgust her as much as it did — of course it was all about quirks!

　　Ochako quickly speaks up, "What about the entrance ceremony?! Or guidance sessions?!" She bunches her hands to her chest and her eyes stare wide and glittering.

　　Asuka scoffs, real cute.

　　Aizawa cuts off her cute act just as quickly. "No time to waste on that stuff if you want to become heroes. Yūei is known for its 'freestyle' educational system." — He gives the class a sideways glance — "That applies to us teachers as well."

　　He lists off the standard gym tests they all would have done in middle school and the supposed "ridiculous" banning of their quirks in said tests, and as he keeps talking Asuka feels herself sink into a pit. She can practically see her classmates standing at the edge, staring down and jeering as she drowns in the dark earth. Too much dirt, too much dust!

　　Asuka grits her teeth and focuses on the shuttering sound the action makes. She was so different from them all. The girl hadn't done the tests since she was 'home-schooled' and she didn't have a disgusting quirk. She expected to feel ostracised from the other students, she knew Yūei hasn't prepared themselves for their first quirkless student, but she didn't realise how disgusting that would make her feel — she wasn't the disgusting one, they were!

　　She didn't know whether to ask if she would receive different treatment. She desperately hoped the answer was no. Just because she felt different didn't mean she wanted to be treated different, she didn't want to feel weak.

　　Asuka would prove quirks weren't the be-all and end-all.

　　"Bakugo. How far could you throw in middle school?" — right, the test, focus on the test.

　　Asuka snickers for show as Katsuki instantly rattles off 'sixty-seven metres' not surprised he has that information stored at the forefront of his mind.

　　Aizawa throws a ball to Katsuki. "Great," he drawls, "Now try it with your quirk. Do whatever you need to, just don't leave the circle."

　　Katsuki keeps Aizawa's gaze for a moment, then stretches his arms with a shrug, looking pleased to show off in pure Explodo-Boy flashy style. He gives a savage grin at Aizawa's prompt and stands ready to throw.

　　His throw is as violent as him. Vicious as a yelled "Die!" rips from him. Asuka has to admit the throw was impressive as it breaks the sound barrier and causes the surrounding air to whip around them. She ignores the chatters of awe around her with rolled eyes.

　　A device in Aizawa's hand beeps and the class turn to him expectantly. "It's important for us to know our limits. That's the first rational step to figuring out what kind of heroes you'll be."

　　He turns the device to them, a daunting '705.2m' glaring at them.

　　Asuka huffs as everyone squeaks about how awesome this will be. Muttering a quiet "Disgusting," to herself.

　　"Awesome... You say?"

　　Everyone freezes at their teacher's voice, holding their breaths at his tone. Asuka stands still. She knew that tone, had heard it plenty of times when she treated her training as a game. They were about to be in a world of trouble.

　　And Asuka knows she's right when suddenly Aizawa's presence alone looms over them more than his height. "You're hoping to become heroes after three years here... And you think it'll be all fun and games?"

　　There's silence as everyone is unsure how to respond. But he never gave them the chance.

　　"Right." Aizawa starts, a terrifying tone of finality in his voice. "The one with the lowest score across all eight events will be judged hopeless... And be expelled."

　　Asuka hears the yelling of her classmates, but she can't make out what they're saying. It all strings together a messy consonance she can't make sense of. Asuka can only hear the voice of reason in the back of her head that told her she was quirkless, and there was no way she'd be able to beat their scores. She clenches her fists, stuck between asking for special consideration and flipping off the voice.

　　There was too many noises, too many thoughts, too many reasons to plead weak or stay strong. It was too much! — please make it stop!

　　Aizawa's depraved smile cuts through their yelling and sends them reeling. "Your fates are in our hands."

　　Asuka can hear her instructors demanding she takes the weak route, whispering in her ear to do the utmost basics to get through all this, ask for as much help as possible, lower their guards until she gets what she wants. She can feel their disapproving glares at her want to prove herself, shivers as it simmers into her being like a branding iron. It causes a wire to tie around her gut and squeeze until all she wants to do is plead and yell and submit —make it stop!

　　"Welcome. This is the hero course at Yūei High!"

　　Asuka steels herself. Blocks out the surrounding noise, the eyes and the hands on her skin. Stares at the sun until her eyes water to blind out the images in her mind — MAKE IT STOP!

　　Asuka has to choose quickly.

　　Her pride or her purpose.

PREVIOUS <

[daimyosprincess]

Announcement 🎉

I'm excited to announce that I'll be posting my first ever fic, Ex Libris, next Friday, May 5!!

A multi-part AU set in our world, Ex Libris begins when you, a librarian in the university library, meet the new Mandalorian studies professor, Boba Fett. Sparks fly and passions soar, but just what all does Professor Fett have in store for you?

Check out a preview of Part I: Foreword below the cut, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Comments and feedback are appreciated and welcome, and if you would like to be tagged in future updates, please fill out my taglist form.

Many thanks to the WONDERFUL @rexxdjarin and @choaticninjawitch for all your support and encouragement in my writing journey 💖 so many talented creators have inspired me with their amazing works and I'm honored to be able to join them. Please support creators, foster fandom and create the community we want with comments and reblogs.

EX LIBRIS

—Professor!Boba Fett x F!Librarian!Reader

—Summary: You want to add your story to Professor Boba Fett’s personal collection.

—Rating: Explicit, 18+ only — MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

—Series Tags & Warnings: [chapter-specific tags will have additional warnings] second person narration, no use of y/n, explicit sexual content, age gap (reader is mid-twenties, Boba is late forties), dom/sub power dynamics, bdsm elements, reader described as having hair, alcohol consumption by reader and others

The university library is dead—classes aren’t in session and things are slow. The afternoon summer sun streams through the building’s tall windows, illuminating the dust motes that dance in the golden light. The faint rustle of papers turning is the only sound filling the idle air other than you and your coworker’s chatting at the circulation desk. 

“No, I’m telling you there’s no good guys to date here. They’re all either emotionally unavailable or terrible in bed… or both,” your friend Selena gripes. She’s exasperated by the most recent of her flings ghosting her after their last hookup. 

Swirling your iced coffee, you roll your eyes. “Well maybe you need to expand your dating pool, there’s more out there than just twenty-something guys who spend all their time in the gym.” You grin knowingly at your friend—she definitely has a type.

She throws an elbow at you. “Hey! Not all of us are into girls and men old enough to be our dads! Speaking of which…” she cuts off, wiggling her perfect eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice calls from behind your back, “is there a librarian I can speak to about reserving my course materials?” The voice’s vowels lilt and come together like sand being molded by an ocean wave, powerful yet graceful—it’s a voice that could warm you in sunny, shallow waters or drown you in a raging storm.

All but choking on your coffee, you spin to face the front desk. Standing on the other side of the counter is the most handsome man you think you’ve ever seen: copper skin, white teeth, and dark eyes stand atop a crisp linen shirt rolled up to reveal thick, strong forearms. Pale, silvered scars crisscross his skin, glinting in the light, making him look equally dangerous and enticing, like a trap baited with everything you’ve ever wanted.

Shit, he could get me in a lot of trouble… and I’d let him. You clear your throat, doing your best to recover with at least some of your dignity intact—a difficult task when the absolute god of a man before you just heard that you’re definitely into men his age. 

Selena, however, beats you to an answer. “Yes, sir, that would be my coworker here,” she answers in a sing-song voice, “she’s more than happy to help you with anything you need.” You shoot her a dirty look as she flounces away back to her desk in the back, her attitude completely unapologetic.

Being the flirt you are, you did fully intend to hit on this handsome professor, but that’s not the point. Rallying your thoughts, you flash him a dazzling smile. “Yes, I certainly am,” you confirm. “What can I do for you, professor…?” Your voice trails off in anticipation of his response, and you catch the dark gleam in his coffee-colored eyes. 

“Fett, Boba Fett. Professor of Mandalorian studies,” he answers smoothly, his rich timbre confident and unphased by you and Selena’s antics.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, professor,” you respond, matching his blithe tone. You introduce yourself with your name and title as the research materials librarian.

He smirks, flicking his eyes over your frame in a casual, yet interested, way. “I assure you, the pleasure is all mine.” When his eyes meet yours again, they flicker with amber fire, bright and tempting.

You let his compliment hang in the sunlit air between you for a moment, gauging whether he too felt the electric connection buzzing between you two. Judging by the glint in his eye and quirk of his lips, he did.

Game on. “Well, usually faculty submit their materials for purchase and reservation at the end of the previous school year or at the beginning of the summer session,” you inform him with an overly patronizing tone. “But I suppose I can make an exception for you since you’re being so polite.” You end your statement with a wink, inviting him in to test the waters.  

Taking your hint, he leans his muscled arms on the high lip of the desk, bringing himself closer into your space. “You’re too kind. Things have been a little difficult since I’m new to the school and wasn’t in the country until last week… and I’d really appreciate your help, princess.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like spiced honey, hot and sweet.

Your brows arch up and you run your tongue over teeth behind your lips as you consider the handsome professor. Most men you meet are either too intimidated or too stupid to give you a fair fight, but this Boba Fett… he might just be the one. Without saying much, he’s said it all: true power doesn’t need to be defended because it speaks for itself. His innate confidence makes your stomach tighten and your blood run hot—this is going to be even more fun than you first thought. “Why don’t you come into my office and I can see what all I can do for you, Professor Fett,” you offer with a flirty smile.

“Please,” he entreats with a saccharine smile, “call me Boba.”

[mrandmrsvex]

Chapters: 3/? Relationships: Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Basically all the tropes, Critmas, Christmas

Summary:

„Could you repeat that, please?“ „“You heard what I said, Percy.“ „I did. I'd still like you to repeat it, simply to make sure my mind isn't playing tricks on me. Because this sounds like something from your brother's mind, not yours.“ „All I asked was if you wanted to spend Christmas with me at my father's place, and make him think that you... that we're... that I have a boyfriend.“

Chapter 1: Driving Home for Christmas

„Could you repeat that, please?“

„“You heard what I said, Percy.“

„I did. I'd still like you to repeat it, simply to make sure my mind isn't playing tricks on me. Because this sounds like something from your brother's mind, not yours.“

Vex sighed and stirred her coffee. They were sitting in the most non-descript Starbucks she'd ever seen – oh, there were many nicer and more familiar little coffee shops dotted through town, but in any of them, they'd stand a chance to be met by someone of their surprisingly large group of friends. And having to awkwardly explain why she was having coffee alone with the newest addition to that group would be bad enough – if any of them overheard her proposition, it would be even worse.

„All I asked was if you wanted to spend Christmas with me at my father's place, and make him think that you... that we're... that I have a boyfriend.“

Percy only sipped on his coffee – he was most definitely used to better – and looked at her over the rim of his cup, one eyebrow raised high even above his glasses. At any other time, Vex would have had to admit that this pensive look of his was annoyingly attractive, especially focussed on her – right now it was only making her nervous in a bad way. She needed to make this deal. She hadn't expected him to be quite so indifferent.

„I mean, you told me that you're not doing anything for Christmas, really, with your sister staying at university with her friends. And you're pretty much the only one of our group who knows his way around an estate. And the only one sly enough to keep our story up without mistakes.“

Two little stabs against him, followed by a bit of flattery. She'd learned that it usually worked with Percy, and it seemed to work now – he leaned back in his chair, still looking at her, but far less tense than before.

„And why do you need a fake boyfriend for your christmas with Dad? From what I remember, it's usually you and your brother that team up to give him the finger at any occasion where you have to deal with him.“

„Yes. Usually.“ Vex stirred her coffee once again – her cup was twice as full as his was at this point, and getting cold. But she hadn't invited him here to drink coffee, really. „Except this year, because my brother's managed to find an actually reliable excuse with Keyleth on why he can't follow up on our father's invite.“

„I would've thought your father would want to meet this new girlfriend of Vax's. Did she not get invited?“

„Oh, she did. But her father has decided to give her her christmas gift early, and it turns out to be a double ticket for a trip all across the country, and they've suspiciously decided to cash it in right now, so they're probably going to be... somewhere, in the wilderness, during christmas.“

It was a brilliant excuse, and Vex had a hard time admitting that her brother was lucky to use it. She was more busy with being angry at him for leaving her to deal with it all alone.

„I understand that you don't want to go alone, but why fake an entire relationship? Take Zahra with you, and watch your father's head explode trying not to say anything inappropriate to your on-again off-again girlfriend.“

„I thought of that.“ She hadn't. To be fair, she hadn't thought of Zahra for quite a while. That nagging image of the beautiful white-haired lady in her head during lonely moments had been replaced by someone with equally white hair, but so far, she'd refused to think of it more clearly. „I really can't take Zahra. Not after last year's debacle with Vax and Gilmore. I mean, I do want to annoy my father, but I also kind of want to enjoy christmas for a little bit and not spend it fighting all the time.“

„Stay home, then. Make up a fake boyfriend here in town, and that you're invited to his family's this year, and tell your dad how rude it would be to decline their lovely invite in favour of his cynical one. That way you get out of the whole situation and get to enjoy christmas however you like it.“

However I like it, she thought. The way she liked it was most definitely not sitting at home with Trinket, while her brother was away with his new lady and all her friends had someone to celebrate with except for her. She'd even rather face her father alone instead of that – but she simply couldn't. She really needed this deal with Percy, but there was no apparent getting forward.

„Ok, alright, fine. I guess I'll have to be completely honest here, goddamnit. You really know how to push my buttons.“ She sighed and rubbed across her eyes, not noticing the soft smile that flashed across his face for a second.

„I can't do anything else, no matter what you or I or anyone else thinks of doing that's more reasonable. I wanted to call my father to tell him I'm not coming without Vax, but I got his wife instead. And, god, she's just so nice. So happy to have me visit for the holiday. So I panicked and couldn't think of another excuse and I thought, if I asked to bring a random guy they've never heard of, even she would say no, but she didn't. It got her even more excited to meet my new boyfriend who I made up on the spot.“

It all rushed out in an angry rant against herself, but she was still conscious enough to omit the part where she had immediately thought of him as the new boyfriend to bring – it was only, she convinced herself, because Percy was exactly the kind of guy her father would both like and hate to see as her partner. Wealthy and of a good position, able to better his delinquent daughter's status on one side. Actually wealthier and of a far better status than himself on the other side. And vindictive enough to jab back at any comment her father could make that would only make her rage. She'd seen Percy tear into strangers in the politest way possible when they were too quick to judge his new friends. She could imagine him do it just as perfectly against her father. She kind of wanted to see it, actually.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Percy's laugh. It wasn't loud, all-out laughter, more an amused giggle that slightly grew larger, but it was definitely more than what she was used to from him. She could count the moments of him laughing on one hand, and he definitely never did more than a short snort or grin if they were in larger company. She tried everything she could to make him laugh, but there was no time to cherish it now. He'd already stopped and leaned forward, a wicked smile on his face.

„Vex, if you'd just started with the truth of you getting yourself into situations you didn't assess properly because of your hotheadedness, I would've said yes right away.“ He emptied his cup and his smile turned softer, yet still wicked. „Alright, I'll come with you for christmas. It might actually be enjoyable to watch the chaos unfold.“

„Thank you for driving, as well.“

The 4 hour drive had been surprisingly pleasant. She already knew that Percy could be a decent conversational partner if only his mind was focussed on something else as well, so he couldn't constantly overthink everything he said. And focussing on driving safely through the more and more snow-filled countryside seemed to work.

„Well, I thought if you wanted to make a grand entrance for shock as I expect from you, we probably shouldn't show up in the heap of rust and ducttape that was once your VW beetle.“

He was the only one allowed to talk about her car derisively - if only because she could hear the hint of affection in his voice. Ever since they'd met a year ago, he had been working on her car at least once a month, fixing little hitches and larger problems. It was by now more of a project of his than a car of hers.

„Besides, I wouldn't want to drive in anything that unsafe through this snow.“

He shifted to slow down a bit, and Vex remembered the old newspaper clipping that Pike had quietly told her about. The one detailling the story of how the most influental business man of the area had crashed his car in a snowstorm. How the car behind him, equally filled with family, wasn't able to break quickly enough. How the only ones the Emergency Services could save hours later were a young boy and his little sister. She suddenly realised that Percy offering to drive them both was far more than just a small gesture.

A quiet rustling sound behind them snapped her back to the present. Trinket had gotten up in the backseat and was sniffing around Percy's headrest. Luckily she managed to push the large dog back before he could lick across his ear.

„Trinket, down!“ She turned to Percy, who seemed unfaced by it all. It had happened about 4 times during the drive so far, after all. „And I'm really sorry about Trinket shedding all over the backseat. I promise I'll clean it when we get back home. I just couldn't... the kennel is really expensive.“ That, and she really hoped for a calming pile of fur to cuddle at night after facing her father.

„It's fine, Vex. I've transported worse with this car.“ His mind flashed back to the one and only time he'd offered to play designated driver while on a night out with Grog and Pike and shuddered. „We should be arriving pretty soon, anyway.“

Trinket gave a short, dissatisfied snort before turning to the bag of gifts next to him. Vex reached back even further to shoo him away. She hadn't bought much – not like her father would be interested in it anyway – but showing up empty-handed had been out of the question, and even Vax had left her a small gift for their younger sister. She was far more surprised that Percy had brought his own little bag of neatly wrapped boxes.

„It's very sweet of you to get something for Velora, by the way. She'll love you for it, and so will her mum.“

„Well, I assumed that the rest of the gifts would be from 'us', so to speak.“ They hadn't really talked any further about their fabricated relationship, and Vex wondered if maybe they should've set some guidelines, but assumed that Percy would play along well enough.

„Yes, obviously. But then who's the rest of your boxes for?“ She couldn't help but grin, but he only answered it with his own smirk.

„You wouldn't expect me to forget Trinket, would you?“

„They're here! She's here! It's Vex'ahlia!“

She could hear Velora's happy shouting even through closed car doors as they parked next to her father's ridiculous top-of-the-line sportscar – Vex relished the far more polished look of Percy's well-kept Oldtimer standing out against the showboating of the modern car.

The little girl standing at the front door was excitedly jumping up and down, waving at them until Vex waved back, then ducking inside shouting again for her parents.

The whole trip was probably worth it just for Velora's big smile.

„So this is your father's estate. Quite something for an ambassador.“

Percy was politely understating and they both knew it. Syldor had not been happy with his contract until they included the most modern, painful architecture of a house as possible, and a garden to match it.

Vex remembered her teenage years in this house and thought back the beautiful, historic Whitestone mansion that Percy had brought her and their friends back to once, after a trip together, casually mentioning that he had a 'place to stay' halfway back into town when it was getting dark. Compared to her father's stark grey, minimalist house, Whitestone seemed like a fairytale castle to her.

Percy's mind seemed to work over the same thing.

„I can't really tell just from the front – is it about the size of Whitestone? It might be a bit larger, even. What a place for such a little family.“

„It's always about size with you men, isn't it.“ She snickered, especially when Percy playfully swatted at her arm.

„I was just wondering how your boyfriend's home measured up to your father's. I am here to make him feel inferior, right? That's part of the plan, even if you won't admit it.“

It was easy enough to avoid an answer by picking their luggage out of the trunk, but Vex had quietly assumed that he'd seen through all of her plan the moment she'd asked for his help anyway. Percy, meanwhile, opened the backdoor to a flurry of brown fur jumping and running down the gravel walk to the front door before Vex could say anything to stop him.

„Lord, that- DOG!“ was the first thing they heard of the deep, stoic voice of Syldor, followed by a delighted „Trinket!“ from Velora and a lot of slobbery noises and giggling. Her father stood in the door by now, looking them both up and down as they walked up to him.

„We expected you a bit sooner. I'm afraid lunch is already over.“

„There was an awful lot of snow on the roads. Better safe than sorry, right? But don't worry, we stopped at a lovely place two towns over to eat something.“

It could have been a perfectly normal chat if it weren't for the biting tone in both their voices. Vex had already pushed past him into the hallway, quickly followed by Percy, who almost stumbled over Trinket's wagging tail while Velora scratched the dog's ears. Her mother Devana had arrived right behind her by now.

She greeted Vex with a genuinely happy „Welcome home, my dear!“ and a hug before turning to Percy. „Oh, and you're the young man she told us about!“

„I don't recall the name, unfortunately.“ Syldor chimed in from the side, but before Vex could react, she saw a perfectly fake smile appear on Percy's face.

„I'm terribly sorry about that. We really should have met sooner, at any rate.“ He offered her father his hand. „Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third.“

Vex heard Velora below her quietly gasp as she stared up at the tall man, who now bent down slightly towards her after shaking Syldor and Devana's hands. „You can call me Percy, though, that's far easier to remember.“

Vex didn't take in much for the next few minutes. It was friendly chatter, basic questions about their drive and the weather and how wonderful it was to have snow for christmas, and how used to it Percy must be, coming from the North, and how nice it was to finally meet him. She was much more focussed on watching her father instead, his face shifting ever so slightly from the usually detached mask to a furrowed brow. All Percy had to do was give him his name, she thought, to make him feel bad already.

Luckily she noticed Devana turning to her and shared a quick smile with her.

„I figure you want to put your bags down and maybe rest a bit. Let me show you to the guesthouse – we had it made ready for you this morning!“ „Guesthouse.“ She echoed.

„Yes. We built it only this year after far too many visitors to accomodate in the main.“ Syldor's smile was not even half as friendly as his wife's. „It's just past the patio.“

Not even ten minutes, and she was already shooed out of the house like... well, like an unwelcome relative, Vex thought, when she suddenly felt a hand in hers, squeezing ever so slightly, and looked up at Percy.

„That sounds rather nice, doesn't it, Vex? We'll have some privacy from time to time.“

She wasn't sure what she enjoyed more – her father's brow furrowing even further at the edge of her vision, Devana's short chuckle, or the strange twinkle in Percy's eyes.

„It actually is quite a nice guesthouse.“ Percy sounded as surprised as Vex was once they'd gotten inside and Devana had left them alone.

It was more of a bungalow than a house, definitely a bit further away from the mansion than 'just past the patio', not that she cared. A small living room with a kitchenette – good coffee, Percy would be happy about that – and a bathroom with an actual tub. And a cozy bedroom, she deducted as she opened the last door to carry her luggage inside and stopped still at the sight of the large bed in front of her.

„Oh. Well.“ Percy had followed right behind her, it seemed, as she heard his voice directly into her ear. „The couch looks large enough.“

„Don't be ridiculous.“ Vex turned around a bit too fast, hitting him in the chest with her shoulder before he could step back. „It's a large enough bed, and it's only for a few nights. I've shared with Vax a thousand times, and he's never complained. I'm not a bad bed partner, apparently.“

„He's your brother.“

„Well then I've shared a bed with Grog or Gilmore on some trips as well, and they haven't complained either.“

„It's really not about-“ Percy sighed. His face was hard to read at times, but Vex wondered if she wasn't detecting a hint of very strong embarassment before he shifted back to his usual demeanor. „Alright. Fine. I hope you don't hog the covers, though.“

„Don't worry. It doesn't get nearly as cold as in Whitestone around here.“

He mumbled something she couldn't really make out before setting down his own bag on a chair at the end of the room and began to unpack. She watched him for a minute, almost absent-mindedly – his movements were still so new to her, and she couldn't resist the urge to study them. She could tell all of her friends from quite a distance simply based on their moving, a habit she developed for far worse things when she and Vax were younger. It was better to notice shifty behaviour or dangerous people from a distance rather than up close. But they were in a better place now, and her talent was worth not much more than being able to order their friend's drink long before they'd even found them in the pub and surprise them with it.

Still, she wanted to put Percy's to memory as well. He was slow in a very careful way, and precise. No movement seemed unecessary, everything was calculated. Vex wondered if he ever did or said anything without thinking it through at least three times. Then again, he seemed less decided and cock-sure whenever he was faced with the wit of the twins... or her alone.

„I wonder how long it'll take before we can make your father's head implode from sheer frowning.“ He turned to her with a grin, and she was glad her eyes shifted up quickly enough to not be noticed.

„If you keep flashing your title and flirting with his daughter right in front of him, probably just a few hours.“

„You just let me know if I take it too far. Preferably with a hard kick against the shin under the table, anything else I probably won't notice. We haven't really talked about this fake relationship beforehand.“

„Don't worry, darling. I don't think you could ever take it too far.“

She'd vanished towards the kitchen before he could stammer out a reply.

Her father's christmas dinner was smaller than usual – a few select and actually polite guests, rather than the party he used to throw when the twins were younger. Vex watched Devana sitting next to Velora, who happily turned her potatoes into mashed ones with her fork while the adults held conversations above her head, and wondered just how much they both had changed her father.

He was still more than enough of a pretentious idiot, though. Percy had been introduced as simply „Percy, Vex'ahlia's boyfriend“ - and kept repeating his full name almost in defiance while Vex grinned at the guest's various reactions to it and her father's face turning more and more sour.

Other than that, neither she nor Percy had much to fight against. Her father had decidedly seated them as far away from him as possible, it seemed, to avoid any discussions. Conversation with others at their table was light, and people seemed more interested in Percy's family business than his relationships.

Except for the traditionally eccentric and loud aunt that every family seemed to have – even one as cold and distant as Syldor's.

„So, now, you lovebirds!“ Aunt Sidiah sounded as if she'd had at least 2 more glasses of wine than anyone else. „Tell me, tell me more! Tell me everything!“

„I think everything might be a bit too much.“

„Oh, don't be like that, Vex! It's just such a rare thing for you to show interest in a boy, let alone bring him home! Not like your brother.“

Percy couldn't help but grin – he'd only just become a part of their friend group when Vax had decided to bring Gilmore to easter brunch at Dad's, but he had heard the only slightly exaggerated tale at their own brunch afterwards. Apparently Gilmore's glorious attire and behaviour didn't mesh well with Syngorn's high society, which was surprising, considering how much class the man could show if he wanted to – but maybe he and Vax hadn't wanted to.

„So tell me! How did you meet? When?“

„I'm afraid it's a rather boring story.“ Percy was quicker on the draw than Vex. „We were at the same New Years party last year – shared friends, you know – and both without a date, so I guess we were sort of left alone together. I don't know how much of it was on purpose.“ He winked at Vex, who was surprisingly quick to look down at her food. „We met for coffee a week later, and it just went on from there.“

It wasn't a lie, she thought. He didn't know the part where she'd annoyed her brother for a week that she had no New Years date to kiss at midnight while Vax had two, and maybe he hadn't noticed the wide grin on Keyleth's face when she'd introduced them to each other at the party. And he was simply polite enough to omit the bit where she'd drunkenly plastered a fat smooch on him at midnight. She remembered his bright red face and his flustered stammer, and the tiny smile that crept up before Grog with his novelty glasses smashed them both together in a bear hug.

Coffee a week later was more of a group tradition, anyway. He'd kept a chair for her when she was late, with his big bright coat.

„So it's almost your anniversary, then!“ Aunt Sidiah clapped her hands together. „Are you planning anything special?“ A wink. „Maybe a ring?“

Now Vex was faster. „I'd say a year is maybe a bit too early for that. I think fun at a regular NYE party will be enough for us.“

„And a gift.“ Percy smiled, and it didn't seem as fake as it had for the rest of the evening.

„If you want, darling.“

„Oh, always."

[kierancfthehunt]

kierarktina's wedding? (lmao i'm not thirsty for content at allll)

(I have absolutely no idea how polyamorous weddings work so I made up the whole dynamic. Hope you like it!)

Julian asked him if he was nervous. Then Emma. Then Helen. Even Tavvy asked him if he was nervous. All he replied to everyone was “Isn’t everyone nervous on their wedding day?

But to say that is an understatement. He is fucking terrified. 

The day Kieran had finally proposed, he had panicked. He had panicked so bad he had turn without saying a word and ran out of their room at the institute (where, at the age of 25, they still lived in), and had gone to hide in the training room.

Cristina had found him a few minutes later, looking stern and amused at the same time.

“You should not have done that,” she said. “Kieran can’t figure out what he did wrong. He thinks maybe you didn’t want to say yes.”

Mark looked up from his feet, feeling a new wave of panic and guilt. “I didn’t– That’s not–”

Cristina smiled, stepping closer and taking his hands. Mark still marveled at how fine yet strong they were, her dark fingers a sharp contrast against his very pale ones. “I know,” she said. Mark met her brown eyes, and noticed they twinkled. She was excited, happy about this, he realized. She wanted this. 

Mark gulped. “Are you going to say yes?” He asked in a whisper. Cristina’s smile grew even wider. 

“I am,” she said. “But only if you say yes, too.”

Mark looked at her, at her dark lashes that shadowed her equally-dark eyes, shadowing her smooth, brown skin. He put a hand to her cheek. “I will always say yes,” he said, and Cristina beamed.

When they went back to the room and Mark apologized to Kieran for running away, they all sat on the bed, leaning against the wall. Cristina was in the middle, holding Kieran’s hand with one of her own, and Mark’s with the other. 

“They’re all going to freak out,” Cristina said, looking ahead of her. Mark and Kieran made noises of agreement. Cristina took a deep breath. “The clave…”

Kieran spoke then, as calm as he always did. Today, Mark noted, his hair was a lighter shade of blue than it usually was. He was happy. “They have no rules against it,” he turned his head to look at Mark and Cristina. “I looked in the books in your library. There is no law that prohibits a union like ours. They cannot prevent it with any justification.”

Cristina smiled at him, then lifted up his hand to kiss his knuckles. She turned to look at Mark.

“We’re really doing this?” she asked, her eyes dancing between hope and nervousness. 

Kieran’s eyes found Mark’s, and they smiled at each other, then looked down at Cristina at the same time. 

“We are.”

***

“You’ll be okay,” Emma says for the thousandth time, tugging on his bowtie. “You’re all going to be a lot more than okay.”

She steps back to admire her handy work, and wipes away a fake tear. “You look so handsome I could cry.” 

Mark looks up at her, flashes her a tight smile. Emma’s eyes soften and she puts a stray lock of his hair back in place. “Mark. Look at me. Really, it’s gonna be fine. God, if you’d only heard Cristina. She talked about it all night. I can’t know which one of you three is more excited about this, honestly.”

“Emma,” he says, serious. Emma stops her rambling and looks up at him. “Is this the right thing to do, Emma? Do you think I can make them both equally happy?”

Emma’s eyes widen in understanding. She takes her hand and squeezes it tightly. “Mark, oh, Mark. You’re their life, don’t you see that? They love you more than anything in the world! I have never seen such a weird dynamic before, but I can tell you that the three of you will be happier than most of us can ever aspire to be.”

Mark fights the burning behind his eyelids, present both because of Emma’s words and because he has never, ever felt so insecure in his life. He takes a deep, shaky breath, closes his eyes, and nods. He doesn’t know if it’s more to Emma or to himself. 

When he opens his eyes, Emma is smiling in that mischievous way she has.

“Plus,” she says, wriggling her eyebrows. “Just think about the wedding night.”

Mark can feel himself pale all the way up to his scalp.

***

Mark and Kieran are looking at each other across the altar. Mark doesn’t think he has ever seen Kieran look so happy before, smile so widely. He can’t blame him– there’s a smile just as wide plastered on his own face. Mark winks at Kieran, and secretly enjoys how the tip of his pointy ears turns red.

When the music start, his heart gives a little jump in his chest, and he and Kieran turn to look at the aisle, at the end of which Cristina appears, clinging at his father’s arm. 

She is all dressed in gold, shadowhunters wedding gold. Her dress is long-sleeved, but cut low on the back. Her skirt is simple and cascades delicately past her hips, swiping the floor slightly behind her. She has little synthetic roses threaded through her hair, which is up in some complex thread Emma probably did. She looks so beautiful it nearly cuts Mark’s breath. 

He glances sideways at Kieran, who’s looking at Cristina with the same mix of respect and awe he did all those years ago in the Seelie court, only now it’s tinged with adoration. Mark thinks he looks at her in a very similar way.

When she’s close enough, Cristina looks at Kieran, then at him, and flashes them a bright smile. Mark can already hear Emma sniffling behind him. 

Yes, he thinks, this is going to work.