#which sounded almost like here is what you legally should not do to get high

[lostcherise]

Overcome

Summary: In which Jesse accepts the money Walt gives him and decides he deserves a second chance in life, but only if he gets to have it with you.

Warnings: mentions of drug overdose, mentions of future miscarriage, angst with fluff, this is post s5e8 (gliding over all) but the nazis never happened

Word count: 5,397

A/N: this is loosely inspired by one of my favorite songs from my favorite band and some lyrics used throughout the story will be written in italics. Hope you enjoy!!

Whoever was at your front door sure seemed to be persistent. Persistent enough to wake you from your peaceful slumber at - you glanced over at your digital alarm clock - 3:38 A.M. Great, just fucking great. With a grunt, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor cold against your bare feet. You narrowed your eyes at the metal baseball bat that rested next to your bedside table. For a second, you thought about not taking it with you, but no intruder would be polite enough to knock before they came barging in. But then again, given the crazy life you've had this past year, it was better being safe than sorry.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

With heavy steps, you trudged down the stairs as the banging grew louder and more frantic, feeling somewhat grateful your aunt was working the graveyard shift at the hospital that night, and you were alone. You swiftly unlocked the door, positioning your bad high above your head, ready to bust heads open, and opened the door.

"Jesse?" you were stunned, to say the least. He hadn't spoken to you in almost two months, and now he was standing at your front door, at the crack ass of dawn. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Come with me." his voice was pleading and frantic at the same time.

"Co- go where?" you raised your voice. He had basically dropped off the face of Earth for the hundredth time and as always he expected you'd come running after him. Because that's what you did.

"I don't know." he sounded frustrated but it seemed to be directed mores so to himself rather you. "Anywhere!"

"Jesse, why don't we backtrack a little, okay? Come in, let's discuss this inside."

"No, no." he shook his head, his eyes were wide. Although he was acting strange, he didn't seem high, a state you had seen him in multiple times. Something else seemed to be bothering him, but you refused to go anywhere without any explanation.

"For fuck's sake! Look, I don't wanna fight, my money's in a bag in the back for you." he motioned at his parked car on the side of the sidewalk. "Let's go, now." this time he sounded defeated, almost like a lost child, and your heart ached for him. To deny all the hurt he'd been through would be a blatant lie.

"What money, Jesse?" you warily asked and hugged yourself. It was March and you were in a flimsy tattered t-shirt, and sweatpants, barefoot at that.

"Look, if you come, I'll explain on the way. You comin' or not?" he was growing impatient at your lack of cooperativeness.

"Jesse, I can't just up and leave! I have responsibilities." you countered.

"Oh, like what? Working at a strip club?" that was a low remark, even he knew that. You saw it in the way he grimaced, as instant regret kicked in, but you knew better than to get angry at him, he was kind of right.

"It's what's going to get me through nursing school, you of all people should know that." you shook your head, even if you couldn't get mad at him, you couldn't help but still be disappointed.

The first time your paths crossed were four years ago, you were fresh-faced and straight out of high school. Just barely legal. You had just moved to Albuquerque from Roswell at the first chance you got. The relationship with your parents was strained, so you could bet on the $300 in your pocket - that was all you had on you at that time - that your parents were on cloud nine the moment you had stepped foot out of the house. Thank God for your beloved aunt that had taken you in, or else you would've ended up living in a tent on the side of the street, addicted to the crystal. Not that landing a job as a stripper at 18 was the brightest idea, but old men loved spending the entirety of their pension on you, so the cash flow was good. Plus, you had a roof over your head at all times. So, in your mind that counted as doing okay.

Jesse had come in on your third day with his group of friends. Initially, you thought he was going to be just another sleazebag, which he was to an extent. However, he wouldn't bother you the same way the other patrons did, with you he seemed more reserved, which was very odd given how he was with the other girls. He would come in twice a week, just to see you, admire you on the pole. Then came the private dances, and after five ones, you guys would end up talking halfway through. After that, he would offer to buy you drinks in attempts to keep talking to you, and it worked. That was when the lines between customer and client started to blur and you entered the danger zone. From client, he became your dealer. You were the one who had approached him on the matter, just needed to get your hands on some weed to wind down. Then, came the crystal. Although, you ultimately decided that was not your thing, you hated how paranoid and anxious it made you, so you stuck with the occasional joint here and then. After that, from dealer he got upgraded to friend, and from friend you somehow ended up to now - whatever the hell now was.

See, you knew you cared for Jesse as more than just a friend and you liked to think that he did too. But you knew better than to go tredging that path, ultimately there was no happy ending for the two of you on the horizon, and that's what pained you the most.

"I'm sorry, it was out of line." Jesse looked sheepish. "But I have more than enough money to get you through nursing school and build a new life together a-"

"Why me?" you interrupted.

"What?"

"I mean, why with me?" you asked nonchalantly trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach.

"You know I can't do this without you. You and me, 'till the end of the line. Ride or die." Jesse's pleading eyes searched your own and you hated yourself for even considering his offer. Just like always, you were so willing to go after him, even if that meant him dragging you into the hellfire with him.

"I'll let you know by tomorrow, morning. Get some rest, Jesse." you sighed, closing the door and you went back up to bed. You tossed, and you turned on your bed for what seemed like eternity, as you tried to fight off the thoughts that kept you awake, finally giving up when you saw the sun creeping through your thick curtains. With a frustrated scream, you kicked the covers off of you and preactically leaped off your bed, You walked over to the small walk in closet opposite your bed. A small part of you was screaming at you, that this was wrong, the wrong thing to do.

Yes. Yes, it was.

But leaving Jesse on his own? That was something your love for him wouldn't allow you to do. Maybe, this was finally your way out and what if you were too blind to see? It was better to live with the consequences of bad choices, rather than the constant regret of not giving it a try, being plagued by the constant what ifs and could've beens.

You grabbed a large duffel bag on the top shelf and started mindlessly shoving in whatever article of clothing first came in your line of vision. Taking a step back, you took in the sight of your now half empty closet. It scared you how willing you were to pack up and leave everything behind. It's not like you were a first timer at this thing, you had done this before and you ended up okay.

The sound of the front door unlocking brought you back to reality. Shit, you had to tell your aunt.

"Hey, you're home." you greeted your aunt with a hug.

"Sweetie, why are you awake? Is everything okay?"

"Yes." she gave you a pointed look. "Well, not really." you admitted.

"Uh, how do I break this to you." you struggled to get the correct words out. "Jesse and I are leaving town." you exhaled, a small weight was lifted of your shoulders already. Still there was so much weighing you down, but she shouldn't know.

"Wha- when? Where are you going?" she couldn't mask the sadness in her voice. She never had children, but she loved you like her own and to leave so suddenly was a lot to take in for your aunt.

"We're thinking of, uh, road tripping across the West Coast." the lie came easy. "Take in new sceneries, you know youngster stuff." you tried to laugh off the tears that were beginning to brim your eyes.

Your aunt stood silent in front of you, she wasn't stupid by any means, she had suspected things about the kind of life Jesse was leading; she had tried to talk some sense into you when he had first came into the picture, but to no avail. So, she let you be, you were a big girl and you were going to learn on your own. And if there was one thing she knew best about you, is that once you had made up your mind, nothing was changing it back.

"Okay..." she trailed off, accepting your decision defeatedly. "Please be careful, that's all I ask." she said, before pulling you into a much needed hug.

"Yes, I promise I'll stay in touch." you hugged back tightly. She pulled back to take a look at you with a tearful smile, her lips quivered as she smiled, and you mirrored her reaction.

"I should better go, tell Jesse. Call at work later too." puffing out your cheeks as you exhaled. You wiped your palms on your thighs, they weren't dirty, it was just a habit you did when you were nervous.

Within thirty minutes, you found yourself in front of Jesse's front door, the duffel bag sitting heavy on your shoulder. You set the bag down and rang on his doorbell.

"You're here." Jesse greeted you with sunken eyes.

"Aren't I always?" you asked, it was more of a rhetorical question both of you knew the answer to. Jesse leaped into your arms and let out a choked sob, his sudden change of emotion made your chest tighten.

"I thought this time was going to be different." Jesse cried into your hair and took in a deep breath. The familiar smell of your vanilla coconut perfume calmed him a bit. You were his calm.

"For a moment, I thought so too." you admitted with tears of your own, silently rolling down your cheeks and pulled him in closer against your chest. Neither of you said another word, as you silently held each other, until Jesse decided to break away about a minute later.

"I'm ready to leave, like, right now." Jesse rested his forehead against yours, his striking blue eyes searching the comfort of your own. Briefly, he glanced down at your parted lips and thought about closing the gap, and enclose you in a fiery kiss.

But the romance thing never really went well with him, so if he got to keep you by his side as his friend, then he'd have to compromise. With a sigh, he shut his eyes and pushed those thoughts away.

"Let's go."

──────

The door thumped rhythmically, as you struggled to find Jesse's spare key. The 90lb clay pot that adorned his entrance scraped against his porch, as you struggled to push it to the side. A single key lay beneath.

Soon, you were met with an unquestionable stench. It smelled like sweat, drugs and rotten food. You gagged at the state of Jesse's living room, unfamiliar bodies laying on top of another, trash and food strewn all across the floor - which was suspiciously sticky.

Your breath got caught in your throat once you caught sight of Jesse. He was slumped against a giant speaker, his chest moving rapidly. Your legs almost froze in place, it was the first time you had seen him so out of it, so lost in the blue that he was losing himself. He groaned softly, and threw his head back as he struggled for breath. Within seconds, you were by his side cradling his head.

God, he was burning.

He moaned in pain and held your hands. He tried to hold your gaze, but his eyes kept rolling back in his skull, you were losing him.

"I'm dying. I'm dyi-" he cried out and gasped for air.

"Stay with me Jesse, please." you cried, as you dialed 911. "Help is on the way." you reassured him as you held him against you.

Jesse turned to look at you when you sat down in front of him, breaking him out of his memory.

"Hey, whatcha thinkin' bout?" Sliding a steaming cup of coffee across the small motel room table, you gave him a soft smile.

"About that time you found me when I was overdosing." he tried to match your smile, but his pained eyes had something else to say. He chuckled to himself and took a much needed sip before he spoke. "I know this mind sound cheesy as gell, but-" he paused to look deeply into your eyes. "You're like a bringer of the calm, you're the only thing that keeps me grounded and sane."

"Jesse-"

"When your arms wrapped around me when the fever took, thought I was gone for good, but you brought me back. You are the reason I'm sitting here today. So, thank you."

By the time he was done talking, you were a bawling mess, the images of Jesse laying helpless, crying out in pain in your arms were tearing a hole in your chest that you had tried so hard to mend these past few months. Jesse cupped your smaller hands in his, brought them up to his lips kissing each knuckle, lingering on each one before moving on to the next one. It was an act so small and simple, yet so intimate, it sent tingles down your spine.

It was those little acts of love that made you fall deeper for him.

"So," you cleared your throat, your hands remained enclosed in his, enjoying his warmth. "Where to next?" you asked, as you looked out of the window taking in the view of Aspen mountain. Although, there was no snow in Aspen at that moment, the mountain was still black and white, the trees peaking through the snowy slopes.

"Depends on when we wanna settle down." Jesse said with a genuine smile that reached his eyes this time.

"Settle down?" you repeated with a giggle, heat rushing up to the apples of your cheeks. That idea, although something you had dreamt of often, still seemed so foreign to you. You, settling down with Jesse. Ex stripper and ex meth manufacturer getting a chance at the apple pie life, living in a white picket fence house, two kids and a white Labrador. "That sounds so domestic." you commented.

"Yeah, why not?" his deep voice trailed off. "It's till death do us part."

"That's for married couples. We're not married." you shook your head at him and you brought your mug up to your face, in a failed attempt to hide your reddening face from him.

"Some day." his gaze was intense and serious, none of his usual mischievous and flirty grins in sight. He meant every word he said. You almost choked on your coffee, and chose to remain silent instead.

"I was thinking Alaska." Jesse broke the silence and leaned back into his chair, lips pursed deep in thought.

"Way too much cold. How 'bout," you paused and tapped your chin as if in deep thought. "Ohio!"

"There's nothing in Ohio." Jesse looked at you, almost disgusted at your suggestion.

You bit back a laugh while he watched in disbelief. "Okay, fine. What do you like?"

"I want there to be trees. Like, live in the woods, that would be even better. Oh, and maybe next to a lake? Some extra space, so I could do some wood work." he mused, with a distant smile.

"Wood work?"

"Yeah, like, maybe built a chair or something." he almost looked embarrassed. "Do you remember when I had told you about that box I had made in high school?"

"Yeah, the one you exchanged for weed." you raised a teasing eyebrow.

"Yeah, that one. I was thinking maybe I, like, made a business out of it." he shrugged with a smile and leaned in closer to you. "I'm gonna build our furniture, too."

"Oh, so we'll be living together?" the butterflies in your stomach were threatening to fly out of your mouth, but you tried to keep your cool, as you leaned in even closer, only a couple of inches away from his face. His warm breath was tickling the tip of your nose.

"Oh, yeah." his voice was barely above a whisper. "And we'll go to bed every night and cuddle... and stuff." he added in a low and suggestive tone. Now, his nose was brushing against yours and the only thing that was left for him to do was pull you in a much awaited searing kiss. Instead, he moved his head to the side and kissed you just on the corner of your mouth, to which you embarrassingly whimpered.

Jesse just leaned back into his chair and continued on sipping on his coffee leisurely, as if he he hadn't basically admitted that he dreamt of marrying you some day.

"What about upstate New York?"

──────

"So, what's your new name again?" you asked Jesse after a boring game of "I Spy" as you continued your journey up northeast.

"James Driscoll." It sounded so foreign coming out of his mouth, but it was something he had to get used to for the rest of is life, if he wanted to do this second chance thing the right way.

"Can I still call you Jesse? I'll pretend it's your middle name." you giggled.

"Why the fuck would I go by my middle name?" he shot you sideways glance, before focusing back up on the road ahead.

He was met with a shrug for an answer. Lots of people liked their middle names more. However, Jesse's case was different, as many little ties he had to his past life, the better. That, in turn meant that you had changed your name too, for good measure. Just in case someone ever tried tracing back to Jesse through you.

The vacuum guy had made an exception for you in that you were allowed to contact your aunt freely. Even if he wasn't too happy about it. It had been about ten days since you had hit the road and you gave her check ins every two days via payphone. I should call her tomorrow, first thing.

Boredom was hitting you like a ton of bricks, you started making fart noises with your mouth. Watching blurry trees though the passenger window could only be entertaining for a little while. With a sigh, you reached over and turned on the radio, the soft melody of And I Love Her by The Beatles filled in the silence.

Jesse hummed softly, a gentle smile dancing on his lips. He reached over the console and took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers with yours, his thumb softly caressing yours, placing soft kisses in the back of your hand. Averting his gaze momentarily from the road, his eyes searched for yours, and although he didn't speak, in his way he told you - well, showed you - that he did in fact love you. It just came easier to show it, rather than have the words come out.

He held your hand until you found your hotel for the night.

──────

A faint jingle was heard on the background, indicating a new customer had just come in the bar. That night the shift was moving kinda slow, it was a Wednesday night, and it was just you and Natalie, the bartender, and all four tables at that time had been tended to. On top of that, it was an hour till closing time, and all you wanted to do was teleport to your bed, in your comfy pajamas - that in actuality were Jesse's old clothes - and preferably snuggled up against him.

"Oh, new hottie alert." she purred, as she basically eye fucked whoever came in behind you. "Don't look, he's coming this way." she added hurriedly just right when you were about to turn around and take a look.

"Jeez, okay." you threw your arms up in fake defeat.

"Hello handsome. What can I get for you tonight?" Natalie greeted him as he moved to sit on the stool next to you.

"Whiskey, neat." An all too familiar gravelly voice spoke up beside you.

"Sure, thing." Natalie replied, pulling out a glass in front of Jesse and poured from the most expensive bottle that was reserved for what Natalie deemed the hot ones.

Although you knew Natalie's subtle advancements would practically go unnoticed by Jesse, you couldn't help the tiny speck of jealousy that crept its way into your chest.

He mumbled a soft 'thank you' and took a sip. Jesse let out an appreciative sound, eyebrows shooting up on his forehead in faint surprise.

"Yeah, it's one of the expensive ones." you spoke up from next to him. "That means she thinks you're hot." you whispered with a giggle.

"Oh, well. Remind me to leave a good tip." Jesse's lips curled around the rim of the glass, and he took another sip.

Although you would have loved to sit there and chat with Jesse, your shift was sadly not over yet and you had to do your job. You sauntered off, deliberately swaying your hips from side to side, knowing Jesse's eyes would be transfixed on your hips.

"She sure knows how to get your attention, doesn't she?" Natalie came up next to him, from her side of the bar, observing the way he was drinking you in with his eyes.

Jesse agreed absent-mindedly, his mind lost in old memories of you, the way your hips swayed the same way up on that stage, as you would walk up to the pole and spin sensually. Those tiny bikinis you'd wear during your routines, would leave nothing to his imagination. Or, when you had given him his first private lap dance, when you had stripped completely naked in front of him. The strain in his pants felt the exact same as it did right then at the strip club. Shaking his head, he averted his gaze and tried thinking of something else.

Maybe about how it had been about nine months since the two of you had moved to Amherst, and although you literally acted like a couple, he still didn't have the balls to actually kiss you. Sure, he'd kiss you all over your face, he would always pull you in his chest every morning and leave searing kisses on your shoulders, while on your daily morning cuddle session. But kissing you on the lips, to him felt like entering dangerous territory, it felt like trespassing. Hell, he even called you 'babe'.

But his previous dating history, Jesse had grown scared.

Besides, life was going well as it was.

You were now on your first year of nursing at UMass, you were working as a waitress at a small bar, he had gotten a job at Home Depot and kept himself busy with side projects - he had transformed your garage into a wood working studio.

Life was good. It was just that fear kept him from making it even better.

The bar grew more quiet as people started leaving. When the last group of people bid their goodbyes, Jesse downed the last sip of his drink and slapped a $20 on the bar. With two swift steps, he came up behind you and snaked his arm around your waist as you were cleaning up your last table.

"I'll be outside." he mumbled, his voice deep and low. You shivered ever so slightly when you felt his lips brush against your ear lobe, his scruffy beard tickling your skin, and just like that in a moment he was gone out the door.

"You have some explaining to do about you and that hottie." Natalie teased, with a hand on her hip as she threw a towel over her shoulder.

"Tomorrow." you waved her off.

"Tomorrow's your day off." she pointed out.

"Exactly!" you giggled and stuck your tongue out at her and resumed at cleaning up as fast as possible. You didn't want Jesse to wait out too long in the cold. Although it was November, winter had come early and you had the first snowfall two days ago.

You let out a loud sigh and you untied your apron, and folded it before throwing it in your backpack. Your arms shook as you reached for your thick woolen cardigan and threw it over your Henley shirt. Of course, you couldn't forget about your thick parka jacket, then your beanie, scarf and gloves.

You weren't used to this much cold.

Once outside, you bid Natalie goodbye and parted ways, you walking over to were Jesse was leaned against the wall, having a smoke.

"There's my little onion." Jesse teased you about your layers of clothing. Laughing, he grabbed the ends of your scarf and pulled in to him, and without a second thought brought you in for a kiss.

To your dismay, it didn't last long. Both of you pulled back, shocked at what had just happened. You simply stared at Jesse, at how he was looking at you with confusion. Then fear. Then guilt.

"I'm so-"

"Do it again." you cut him off before he could apologize.

"What?" his hot breath was fanning against your nose as you looked him in his eyes, then down at his lips.

"Kiss me, Jesse." you whispered softly. And so he did. You didn't mind that it was close to freezing out, Jesse's kiss was enough to light a fire within you, as his lips moved languidly against yours.

And just like that, life became even better.

──────

Life really did move along great as the years went by. Even after you had gotten your nursing degree, you and Jesse had decided that had grown to love Amherst, so you both decided to stay permanently.

Jesse had left Home Depot, he now owned a small business, building his own original pieces and restoring antique pieces on the side.

You had even gotten a dog together. You and Jesse had found her while trekking Mount Holyoke, and you both had instantly fallen in love with her. A Beagle, she was barely 1 year old at that time. You both decided to name her Echo, because of the way her little puppy cries echoed before you had found her.

Your relationship was going steady, your love for one another growing with each passing day, and you really didn't think you could be any happier.

Up until you saw those two blue lines appear on the pregnancy test. You hid in the bathroom at work, during your lunch break and took the test. At first, you wanted to do it at home but you grew more and more impatient with each passing second. So, now here you were; positive pregnancy test in your hand. It was real. It was really happening. When realization hit you, you let out a squeal, there was no doubt Jesse would be just as happy.

And he truly was. And although he was sobbing when you broke the news to him, you knew it was tears of happiness. You cried with him as he held you, and you cried even harder when he got down on his knees and placed soft kisses on your stomach.

The pregnancy progressed as usual, with a bit of morning sickness - which in reality was more like, all day sickness. By now, you were nine weeks along.

It was Saturday, and both you and Jesse were home for the weekend. A rare occurrence, mostly because of your line of work and irregular schedules. Jesse rolled over with a lazy smile on his face, half awake, to pull you against him like he usually loved to do. But you were no where to be found, maybe you were preparing breakfast, he thought, and got up to go to the bathroom.

He tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes, as he groggily made his way to the bathroom. He went to open the door, only to find it was locked. That was odd, you never locked it. Jesse's heart fell at the sound of your muffled groans and crying.

"Open up." his voice was gruff from the lack of use, he had just woken up after all. "Babe, please open up." he pleaded, as he kept on knocking.

"Go away!" you yelled through the door and cried harder.

"Let me in, you're scaring me." Jesse's voice trembled, as panic started to settle in a burning fire inside his chest.

You kept denying and he kept begging, until a deafening silence fell from your side of the door. Jesse defeatedly called out your name softly once more, and that's when he heard the soft click of the door unlocking. He pushed it open gently and found you curled up on the bathroom floor, weeping silently.

"Love, tell me." Jesse was almost certain he knew what had happened. Tears silently rolled down his cheeks, his lips pursed as he tried to make no sound.

"I lost it." And the moment those words slipped past your lips, a blood curdling scream echoed through the bathroom as you cried even harder. In seconds, Jesse was on the floor with you in his arms. And you cried, and you screamed until your voice gave out. "There was so much blood." you whispered.

Jesse cried silently, cradling your head, and placing soft, comforting kisses on your head.

"I know you probably don't wanna hear this, but" he paused. "Whenever you're ready, we'll try again. And we shall overcome, as we've done before." he reassured you.

For weeks on end, the both of you were nothing but just empty shells of yourselves. Mostly you. The first week you had stayed at home, wandering around the house like a ghost. One month after the miscarriage, you had smiled genuinely again, you were finding your old self again.

You both giggled as you stumbled in, and you turned around to hush him, before bursting into a fit of laughter again. Jesse hummed against your neck, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses all the way down to your collarbone.

"Mhm, you smell so good." he slurred, moving to grope your ass through the loose fabric of your sundress.

It was only 3 P.M on a Sunday, and both of you were drunk of your asses after you had taken a curious Jesse for brunch and bottomless mimosas. He was always so confused as to how you managed to come home tipsy after brunch with the girls, and now he knew the why very well.

"You're sooo hot." you winked at him, or at least you tried to. "And I want you..." you grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him to the bedroom. Jesse just hummed appreciatively, and let you take the upper hand. You threw him on the bed and went on to straddle him and after that, everything was way too hazy to remember properly.

But you definitely had an idea of what happened, as you stared down at yet another positive pregnancy test. And although the months leading up to the birth of your daughter were rather difficult, it all got washed away the moment she locked eyes with you and Jesse. You guys shared teary smiles, life was well again.

The way it was supposed to be.

[chaoxfix]

tails + "how long do you think you could hide that" perhaps

The Sonic Boom really should have been warning enough. However, growing up around them meant that Tails had more or less tuned them out. Sonic coming and going at his own speed (Mach 2) was simply a fact of life. 

Plus, Station Square had always been pretty noisy. There could have been a thousand reasons that the sky suddenly shook. Especially since Extreme Gear had just crossed the speed of sound, and plenty of teenagers were using them more often despite them being restricted. (But like, who was going to catch them at that speed? Sonic? Even if the mayor asked him to, he’d just give them a high five.)

So no, Tails did not react. He’d learned to tune them out when working years ago; most of the time, he could even sleep through them.

Fatal error number one, really.

But Tails would never have expected Sonic to turn up here. 

After all, despite being gifted a New Station Square penthouse, Sonic never came here.

At best, it was a place for Sonic to store all the Sonic-The-Hedgehog-themed gag gifts his friends gave him over the years. 

(And yes, Tails is a little creeped out by the sheer amount of it, despite being the one to purchase at least a third of it. When he arrived at night, he’d tried keeping the lights off so he could pretend it wasn’t as decked out as it clearly was in the daytime, but the glow-in-the-dark shower curtain jump-scared him. His tails had stayed bushy for a full half-hour after. Ugh.)

Sonic hadn’t been able to get out of legally owning it, either. So despite still being a nomad in name and practice and worldview, Sonic T. Hedgehog officially had an apartment in New Station Square. Which meant to save face he would absolutely, never, under any circumstances, come here. 

And he especially wouldn’t come here looking for Tails. 

That’s what Tails thought, at least, until, a minute after the Sonic Boom, the door burst open. 

Tails, clad in an oversized Sonic Sez T-Shirt, blinks up at him. As embarrassing as the shirt is, he’s glad he’s wearing it, because what’s underneath is way worse. 

“Way to check in,” Sonic says, in lieu of hello. “‘Yeah, I definitely am going home after this,’” he mimics. “‘I’ll just be working on some software updates for Tailsblr, don’t worry, you can go check out the Spagonia ruins, I’ll be fine!’” 

“I don’t sound like that.” 

Sonic arches a brow. 

“I don’t!” Tails, embarrassed, scrunches his face up in a pursed-lip pout. It’s incredibly tough-looking, he knows. “What are you doing here, anyways?” 

Sonic glances around at the Sonic-themed apartment. “...Are you going to make me say it, or-”

“Never thought you’d call this ‘your’ apartment,” Tails mumbles. 

“Okay, point.” Sonic leans in the doorway, effectively blocking Tails’s only exit, unless he busts open a window. Which he doesn’t want to do. The Sonic-themed-stained glass would be almost impossible to duplicate, and Amy paid good money for that birthday… ‘gift’. “You gonna tell me what you’re doing here, though? And why you haven’t checked in with anyone?” 

Tails crosses his arms over his chest. He definitely doesn’t look petulant. Wincing ruins it, but he does his best to play it off, putting on an annoyed expression he’s not sure Sonic totally believes. “...no.” 

Sonic, predictably, eyes Tails. And the shirt he’s wearing. “I came all this way though?” he says, faux casually. “Nice digs, by the way.” 

“I figured it would be good camouflage.” 

“Hiding from me got that serious, huh?” 

What is there to say to that, exactly? Tails huffs, but ruins it with the way he toes his foot against the ground. Unsocked, because his usual ones are washing – and he couldn’t, surprisingly, find any Sonic-themed socks among the mess. He could’ve found slippers, but his paws were big enough as it was. 

Sonic, as always, takes it upon himself to fix it. He steps closer, unsubtly poking around him trying to find an injury. 

Tails turns away, trying to avoid Sonic getting too close, but it’s a losing battle with a decisive defeat when he winces again. Sonic sees it, because of course he does, and capitalizes on it immediately. 

“We really have to do this the hard way?” 

It sounds almost petulant. Tails huffs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-” 

“It can’t possibly be more embarrassing than hiding here of all places.” 

“Who said it was embarrassing?” 

“Then you’ve got to give me an explanation, because otherwise that’s what I’m going with, bud.” Sonic intentionally challenges him, maybe knows deep down that it’s something else. When Tails doesn’t offer an explanation though, Sonic just sighs. “Alright, guess I’m just gonna assume you’re hiding out here licking your wounds…”

Tails grimaces. There’s no putting it off or getting out of it, is there?

With a sigh, Tails finally stops squirming away, though his tails continue to swish in annoyance. But the battle is over, and he knows he’s lost. So with a grand, over-dramatic sigh, he lifts the shirt, which loosely conceals bandages, and more importantly, a back brace. 

“I have to wear it for another week,” he grumbles, lowering the shirt back down, because an oversized Sonic Sez Stay In School! shirt (...did they even ask Sonic before they made that slogan?) is way less embarrassing than the medical brace. “More, in theory, but by then I’ll be mobile enough to make myself a cool exoskeleton so I can go back to helping.” 

Sonic raises both brows. “I, uh,” he starts, looking for a moment at a loss for words. He stares. 

Tails decides to cut him a break. “I’ve been using the sketch pads here to draft out all the important parts of the exoskeleton,” he continues, “And honestly, I’ll probably keep using it for a while after this heals, because it’ll be useful for heavy artillery. Similar to what I used around the time we met Shadow, just with actual support, because it was pretty uncomfortable-”

“Okay, that’s great, but, I fail to see why you’d… hide that?”

Tails’s whiskers twitch. “It’s hard to move. Meaning I can’t help with anything going on.” 

“Yeah? And that sucks, but it’s not– you should’ve told me.” How long did you think you could hide that, anyways? It's not a big deal, not to be on missions, but- I mean, there's more than matters than just that."

“It's not a big deal, injuries just suck,” Tails cuts in, cutting Sonic off from any other unnecessary worry, or so he hopes. Sonic stares at him blankly. “Besides, you would’ve felt like you needed to check in a ton, and you- you’ve been itching to go and do things again. And it’s important to stop Eggman’s newer plans. I’d just have slowed you down.” 

“Slowed me down.” Sonic tilts his head to the side. “I guess, from a certain kind of view, I could maybe, sort of, see that logic.” Tails almost feels relieved, before Sonic adds, “You know, if I was heartless. Which you know I’m not. So I'm serious, please tell me it's something else.” 

Tails squirms under the scrutiny. He shrinks in on himself, crossing his arms tightly over himself despite the ache it causes. All the while, Sonic is still looking him over, puzzling it through. Letting Tails’s silence and inability to refute that speak for itself. 

Tails sees the exact moment Sonic notices. He cringes. This was exactly what he was hoping to avoid. 

Because the thing is, Sonic always hid away when he was injured or sick or dealing with too much. Sonic was all about the power of friendship, sure – but that was for Eggman. When it came to interpersonal problems, or god forbid physical weakness, Sonic was suddenly a cool loner. He’d always make some offhand comment about seeing a part of the world he hadn’t seen before (a dwindling number every day) and then they wouldn’t see him again for days, weeks, or months. 

And, well. 

It wouldn’t be the worst trait to pick up on. The whole world agreed that Sonic was a cool role model – the whole apartment around him agreed! Why would he be a bad role model here, too?

And if Tails was ever going to be a hero in his own right, too, well… Shouldn’t he learn to take care of himself? 

“Ah,” Sonic says, eloquently. He opens his mouth, presumably for a speech, and comes up short again. He shifts a hand to his chin, clearly thinking hard. 

“I think I smell something burning,” Tails says. 

“Does no one trust me to do speeches anymore?” 

“I honestly think you’ve gotten worse.”

Sonic levels a half-hearted glare, but the tug at the corner of his mouth tells Tails he’s not actually offended. Sonic reaches for his bangs, half-heartedly ruffles them. “Yeah. That’s why I’m trying to take my time and think this one through.”

Tails doesn’t duck away from the affection. But he can’t help but shrink into himself, just a little. Not in a bad way – but he hasn’t felt shy in ages. He feels like a kid again, which is exactly what he was trying to avoid. 

Sonic must pick up on it, because he frowns a little. Then, punches Tails’s shoulder, light enough not to jostle his back. “Growing up doesn’t mean not leaning on your friends anymore,” he finally says. “We’ll always be around. You know that, right?” 

Tails has a lot he could say to that – about being around. 

He wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Sonic reads into it, sighs despite himself. Of course Tails should’ve guessed it was written on his face. They’d managed years without words. “Okay, yeah, but that’s an extreme circumstance – and you could’ve… should’ve had our friends around,” he says. “If I had actually kicked the bucket – that’s what I would’ve wanted. Our friends looking out for you.” 

The unfairness of it all burns. “It's not an extreme circumstance when you already almost died again.” 

Sonic rakes a hand back through his quills. “I really have gotten worse at speeches,” he mutters. “I don’t know. I’ve always been like this, though, keeping... issues to myself – but you haven’t.” 

On account of being four years old, Tails chooses not to point out. 

“Yes, okay, don’t look at me like that, I know you were a kid and kids need help and that’s okay! Good, even! But I always thought it was nice you didn’t get mad when I did stuff for you, even when you got older.” 

Tails scuffs his goes against the floor again. “Because you like doing nice things for other people.” 

“Sure,” Sonic agrees. “But it’s not like… -I always chose to look after you. Could’ve stopped whenever. Vanilla offered, sometimes. But I didn’t even let Knuckles babysit you unless it was like, an emergency-emergency.” 

Tails’s face feels hot at the mere idea of being babysat at all. Impossible standards, he knows, for being four. 

“I didn’t think you even minded being looked after, since we were always friends, not just… you know.” The word that doesn’t exist, Tails thinks, for their exact kinship. Siblings is closest, but there’s both more and less there, that the word doesn’t always fit. It's a puzzle piece that only mostly matches. “But then you were getting so good at things that had nothing to do with anything I taught you. Doing your own thing, being your own you,” Sonic continues. “...I guess I just never thought you’d take after me so much. I'm surprised, that's all.” 

Tails ducks his head. The shirt is in his field of vision though, and it strikes him as the most absurd thing about all of this. Having a heart-to-heart, after all these years, in a room absolutely suffocated in Sonic merchandise. 

Tails clearly isn’t the only one with a hero worship problem. The whole world seems to agree that Sonic's a role model. 

He can’t quite find the words to say, ‘How could I have possibly taken after everyone else?’ 

“You’re giving yourself a lot of credit,” Tails says, managing a small smile, despite everything. “...Deserved credit, but still.” 

He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, where he knows a gigantic Sonic head plush (six feet tall and just as wide) is looming. A gift from Vector. 

“Saying I’ve got a big head?”

“I think they actually made it to scale,” Tails says with a grin. “But the important thing is… You don't need to think it's all you. You said it yourself, that I have all my own good traits. So I can’t let you act all guilty for my bad traits. Maybe I would’ve been like this anyways, who knows. But you don’t need to take credit, okay?” 

Sonic blinks at him. 

“I’m growing up. And maybe I didn’t need to hide away, or at least I could’ve told you where I was going,” Tails acknowledges. “But those are my mistakes to make. Okay? Not your responsibility.” 

Sonic still looks surprised. But he seems to chew on that, still deciding whether or not to agree. 

But Tails is older now. About as old as Sonic was when he set out against Eggman. 

It’s only fair to give him a little leeway, right?

So Sonic finally nods, still looking contemplative. “Just remember you’re not on your own,” he says. “You’ve got your own thing to figure out – I respect that. But I don’t want you to forget that we’re here because we actually care. What I was saying earlier… the thing is, we’re your friends. It’s not babysitting or looking after you anymore. Even then, we liked you and wanted you around. But now? You’re with us because you’ve got skills, and we want you there. I want you there. So remember that, okay?” 

Tails’s chest feels warm. Pride, he thinks. The pride of knowing he’s made Sonic proud. 

“Okay,” he says, feeling a little more confident. 

Sonic smiles, lopsided. The same smile on most of the trademarked merchandise around them. 

It’s such a perfect match for the poster behind him that Tails has to suppress a laugh. 

“What?” Sonic asks, turning to follow Tails’s eyes. “What’s- Oh, very funny. I can't help that that's my good side. I'm not even doing the thumbs up!” 

Tails grins, but there’s no malice behind it. “Thanks for coming here to check on me,” he says sincerely. “I’m okay though, just sorry for worrying you.” 

Sonic ruffles his bangs again. “You’re never going to have to be sorry for worrying me,” he promises. “I’d miss it too much if I stopped.” 

An hour ago, Tails would’ve felt worse, hearing that. But it doesn’t sting. Sonic can both worry about him, and know that he’s growing up and can make his own choices. 

“C’mon,” Sonic says, officially ending the heart-to-heart. “I put some sonic-shaped cereal in here the other day when I saw it in a store. Five rings says it turns my tongue blue?” 

“You’re on,” Tails agrees, knowing it’s a losing bet.

[wonton4rang]

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

The drug in me is you ¡!

pairing: bnd legal line x reader.

warnings: +18, smut, drugs, mentions of additions and people being high, sex being under drug effects, and i think i didn't miss anything idk.

summary: bnd legal line as dealers/ consumers and what type of drug i think they'll use or sell + you as a client/ significant other and sex under the influence.

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

sungho;

he would sell pills, idk why i have that vibe for him, every kind of pills, you name it and he has it. he would be the "i do it for the money" type of dealer, even feeling sorry with some sells because he knows it's not good. so when you come to him for the second consecutive time in the week he gets worried.

"whatchu have for me today?" you said entering his apartment, being the only one that he accepted there and that actually knew where he lived.

"you were here yesterday, y/n, you're out already?" a shrug was all sungho got while you dropped on his couch and looked around to avoid his gaze. "you know what i think about you taking those, you should drop it, it's not good for your health"

"since when do you even care? you are the one selling me this shit, you know it's not good and yet-"

"i am asking you to leave them but i am not your father, i can't make you"

"then shut the fuck up and get me something good. i'm stressed" he didn't move an inch so you looked at him with confusion "did you hear me?"

"i can help you with the stress in a different way" he would suggest and now he was walking slowly to you, dropping on the couch by your side and softly placing his hand on your undressed thigh due to the shorts you had on "if you allow me, of course"

"you are going to fuck me out of the addiction? are you being for real?" was all you said back, sounding almost offended but gulping and not pulling away from his touch. "do you even know how hard it is to stop this?"

"i am really good, though" this time he smiled and even laughed a little when he felt your thigh tense under his touch. "let me show you and then you can choose which one will be your addition. i promise you'll be able to feel as high as you like"

and well, long story short, he did fuck the addiction out of you after a while of bickering, fucking around and a few arguments. you were doing great thanks to your dealer, funny? very.

riwoo;

honestly i feel like amphetamines + riwoo is a good match. they get you going on , accelerating your system and making you focus better so it sounds about right to me. he would be the "local dealer", but so local only you and two more people knows about him because he still lives with his parents (he's 20 c'mon) and gets the amphetamines as a prescription for his "attention-deficit" issue at college where, btw, he met you.

"are they going to be out until dinner time you said?" riwoo nodded, closing his windows and lowering his curtains. "i can't believe you finally let me do this at your place, you're so nice to me, riwoo"

"i always wanted to invite you over but you know, with my parents here it's... difficult to do stuff"

"you mean get stoned" you said and he chuckled, walking to you after securing his windows and making sure the door was closed.

"i mean everything we do" his eyes met yours when you looked up from his bed, sitting there while he caressed your hair. "getting high on pills and then on each other"

his cheeks would blush after he says that and you would just smile, taking one of your hands to his pocket, reaching for the pills while he finally sat next to you. it was his first time actually getting drugged but the fact that he got to do it with you was enough for him to not be scared.

you would take four pills into your palm, two for each, signalling him to open his mouth and slowly putting two on his tongue, feeling the wet muscle with your thumb before taking it into your own mouth and swallowing your own pills.

"let's give it a few minutes for it to become effective" you informed after giving him the bottle of water you brought so he could properly swallow.

and it honestly was your best high ever. he got so imperative and sensitive it was actually a surprise how you could barely keep his pace. he fucked you in every position and angle you could imagine and it didn't even feel like all that work.

it wasn't going to be riwoo's last time getting high on amphetamines and that's for sure.

jaehyun;

idc idc but myungjae belongs to ecstasy. you gon look me in the eye and say that myungjae ain't the most "i get high and wanna fuck until i'm crying" mf ever? nah, be so fucking for real. because ecstasy is for the horny bitches, specially the ones like jaehyun so he himself is a customer of his own product, selling it at a club in the city next to his home. he would be known as the "pretty sex locker" because his stuff got something that made you get laid yes or yes.

so on his day off he would be just minding his own business, not really remembering all the people he sells to since most of them were one-time customers but your face was recognisable even from afar, even through the high he had going on. he got close to you, scanning your body through the crowd and licking his lips when he finally reached you.

"hey" jaehyun mumbled and you just looked back at him, facing the boy in skinny black jeans and a grey hoodie. "what's your name?"

"y/n, what about you?" you could barely hear him because of the music and he didn't help either because he talked very low. "what did you say?" you didn't understand a thing. "i can't hear you"

"can we go somewhere where the music ain't that loud?"

and you just nodded. following him and looking at your hand being pulled through the crowd to what seemed to be the bathroom of the place. you looked around when you got there, seeing the dark haired boy check the stools before locking the door.

he didn't look like a menace but you would lie if you said you didn't get a little bit nervous.

"so..."

"my name is jaehyun, nice to meet you, y/n" he softly smiled at you and then added "i am going to be honest with you if you don't mind"

"be my guest, jaehyun" and you just know he loved the way his name sounded on your voice.

"i think you are really cute and, if you feel the same, i would like to kiss you and maybe do some more"

by some more he meant how y'all were half an hour later, the ecstasy up in your system when it finally kicked in and your legs being held apart while you sat at the bathroom sink and jaehyun fucked you deep and nicely, his lips in your neck, open mouthed and warm kisses being left all around your collarbone area and you just know you will have marks to remind you of this tomorrow.

now you knew wednesdays were also jaehyun's days off and you took advantage of it to get laid and some good stuff without having to money wise pay for it. it was a win win.

taesan;

definitely weed. he's just so normally chill and into old/ rock/ indie/ love/ heartbroken type of music that i see him just selling some of it a college because people would ask for it for parties and then he is smoking the rest on his basement, not wanting to leave his room with the smell.

he would have an old couch in actually great conditions, a tv, a fridge, his speakers and overall some records, cassettes and stuff that let you know it was his place, not much into decoration because at the end of the day it should all be discardable due to the smell. he really hated that smell but he loved the way he felt so light, like a feather, when he smoke. his mind was so quiet yet his speakers had that loud ass rock songs you almost hated to hear when you got to his place for a visit because it meant he was high.

"taesan?" you would call for his name while walking down the stairs, closing the door behind you after the smell hit you so it didn't go out. "babe, you called?"

"get over here" his voice was deeper than usual, sounding a little bit raspy due to the way he was laying back on the couch, his limps practically dead on each of his sides.

"i thought you sold most of it last night and just kept a little" it's the first thing that comes out of your mouth when you actually see him, he looked so gone, his eyes watery and red, his mouth slightly open and his chest slowly going up and down. you looked at the table in front of him next and saw the weed there with the paper where he rolled it. "this doesn't looks like a little, taesan"

"it's okay, it's just for today" at least he was conscient enough to lie, you thought. "come here, y/n, sit down on my lap"

and you decided to not blow it for him, you will have enough time to tell him what you think about this later on. you moved until you were in front of him, feeling his hands reach for your hips and pull you closer, finally landing straddled on his lap.

"you really are wearing a skirt" you were about to say that he told you to but he kept talking "you're such a good girl with me, aren't you?"

but when you felt his boner press against your panties you didn't say anything, just nodding and holding to his shoulders when he leaned forward with you still on top of him and grabbed his rolled on. "take one, babe, please join me"

and it's not like it's the first time you would do it so, again, you just did, you were already here and pleasing your boyfriend was one of your favourite things. so you took the rolled on and after that it was history.

he pushed your panties aside and fucked you like a rag doll, holding your hips down and being impressively sharp and rough to be that high. but honestly? high sex with taesan was your second favourite. your first one was when he wasn't so high he ended up crying in your neck after cumming over how much he likes you and how sorry he is for being such an useless boyfriend who is not enough for you. you could say that he really got in his feelings when he smoked.

leehan;

probably an unpopular opinion but heroine it's definitely his thing (at least for me) it's so toxic and so harmful that it just fits his flirty ass so much idk. he would sell it to you initially because it was the most expensive one he had and then because he knew you would get addicted and you would keep coming back for more. so he kept you like that, wrapped around his finger even if it meant that he was slowly turning you into a seriously addicted person.

"i feel funny, hannie" you would mumble, that warm yet tickling feeling being all over your body, your face feeling hot and your eyes being open but you are not seeing a thing. "hannie?"

"i know, babe" was all he said against the skin of your neck, pulling out of there so you could, or try to, see his face "can you feel me now?"

"i can see you" your voice was so weak, slowly coming back to your senses when you felt a shift between your thighs, looking down there to find your body naked against leehan's. it was so hot "i love it when you fuck me like that, you know?"

"you like it?" he would try to reassure, kissing your cheeks and making you smile and laugh a bit, yes, you were high, but you were not as bad that you couldn't tell what was happening. "tell me how much you like it, y/n, c'mon, baby"

"i wish this moment never ended, you feel s-so good between my legs, fucking me so g-good" his pace started to get faster, your arms hugging his shoulders and his face going to hide again on your neck, leaving kisses there that just made you moan louder "oh my fucking god, this is- oh god"

"let me know if i go too harsh, you know how i like it"

but you didn't even gave a response anymore, just coming below him and clenching your pussy so much that he let out a groan and came into the condom, pushing so hard inside of your cunt that you could feel him in your womb.

"thank you so much" you would say and he will kiss your lips while you slowly fell asleep, coming down from your high while he pulled out and got you covered.

"i just wished you were sober"

because even if it started with some heroine and him being the one who got you the injections, he was growing tired of only having you near when you needed drugs or you were already high.

if he could do it all again he would definitely not even think about selling you shit.

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@soobinskii you told me to tag you so here it is!! <33

[theblogs2024]

What’s Over the dark web?

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Stolen data. When there’s been a data breach, there’s a chance the accessed information — from Social Stability figures to bank card numbers — will end up for sale over the dim Net. You may also purchase such things as log-in credentials, hacked Netflix accounts, and even more. Illicit substances. Illegal medicine — and prescription medications — are peddled around the dim Net. You might also come across poisonous chemicals that could potentially cause other kinds of damage. Disturbing and risky things and services. It might get unsightly rapid. Things like gore, murderers-for-seek the services of, human trafficking, kid pornography, system components, counterfeit products, and guns for sale can be found over the dark Website. In brief, You should buy absolutely anything you can think about — together with things you’d almost certainly be superior off not imagining. What makes it feasible to try and do business within the dim web? Economic transactions use Bitcoin, the cryptocurrency that can help guarantee potential buyers and sellers anonymity. Will be the dark Net Safe and sound? The dim Website might be Secure in some instances — Feel, respectable articles — but not in Other individuals. Here are a few safety problems to think about. Criminal element. There’s an opportunity you can find Internet websites operate by criminals. Over and above marketing illegal goods and products and services, They could find to take advantage of you and steal from you. Breaking the law. You can be prosecuted for belongings you do within the dark Website. It’s essential to behave in an appropriate and lawful way. Suspicious backlinks. If you click any hyperlinks, you may well be taken to substance you might not choose to see. It’s also doable that clicking a website link or downloading a file could infect your device with malware. Legislation enforcement. Law enforcement officers operate to the dark World-wide-web to catch persons engaged in legal action. Like Other individuals over the darkish Website, law enforcement can perform their function underneath a cloak of anonymity. If you decide to enterprise into the dark World wide web, it’s smart for being selective about the Internet sites you obtain. Accessing the dim Internet with Tor browser Getting to the darkish Website is actually a good deal a lot easier than you might think. All You should do is download a dark Net browser, similar to the Tor browser. At the time you install a dark Internet browser with your system, it capabilities identical to a daily browser: key in a URL, and off you go. However, finding the material you’re searching for within the dark Net is harder than using a search engine like Google. The dark web doesn’t have an index or position procedure to help you find what you need. There are such things as dim World-wide-web search engines like google and yahoo. A person known as the Uncensored Hidden Wiki provides some guidance to content over the dim World wide web, but it might consist of unlawful Internet websites. Learn more info. check out here: dark web links

[jupitermelichios]

This is a great thread! At the risk of being boring, I want to drill down into the numbers @canadianwheatpirates mentioned a bit more, both because I think it's interesting, and because I think you run into a problem with blockbuster movies where most people can't really envision the scale of the production, because it is ludicrously huge.

For comparison

I also think it's useful to have something to compare against to get an idea of how scale has changed over time, so for that purpose, bear in mind that the Wizard of Oz (one of the most expensive movies ever made when it was released in 1939) had a budget of $59,000,000 in today's money, and a cast and crew of around 438 people (although there are some roles which are now credited but weren't in 1939, such as catering, security, and drivers, so total crew in today’s numbers would be a bit higher than that)

Working out how much the actors were paid is almost impossible, because they were paid weekly salaries, not a flat rate for the total movie, but Judy Garland made $500 a week, and the Ray Bolger and Jack Haley (Scarecrow and Lion) made $3,000 a week (yes really, 6 times what the star made, just because they were adult men and she was a teenage girl). Those translate to roughly $10,000 and $64000 a week in today’s money.

Paying the Stars

Of Avengers: Endgame's approx. $350,000,000 budget, $135,000,000 of that went to paying only RDJ, Scarlett Johansson, Chris Evans, and Chris Hemsworth. Four people, and only a small portion of the main cast, and they account for nearly 40% of the film's total budget alone.

I picked them because we do know fairly accurately what their salaries were, thanks to leaks. We don't know what Mark Ruffalo, Jeremy Renner, Brie Larson, Chris Pratt, Paul Rudd, Benedict Cumberbatch, or Chadwick Boseman were paid, but at the very least, given how big their roles were and how big a part of the MCU they both are/were, it's likely Jeremy Renner and Mark Ruffalo were getting something close to what ScarJo was paid, which is another $40,000,000 combined.

That's $175,000,000, literally half the film's budget, paying just six people.

(If you're wondering why RDJ came back for Civil War, Infinity War and End Game after he famously quit the franchise after AoU, it's because his agent negotiated $75,000,000 a movie, plus insanely high profit share - reportedly an additional $55,000,000 from Endgame alone)

Paying everyone else

In total Endgame has an unbelievable 4,041 cast and crew listed on its IMDB page, 6 of whom account for 50% of the total budget. So that's $175,000,000 left over, paying the salaries for 4,035 people, plus paying for all the materials for the sets and costumes, hire of vehicles and locations, fuel, hotels, plane tickets, legal fees, the cost of marketing, residuals to comics creators (although this is marvel we’re talking about, so that’s a laughably small amount), and all the other costs that go into making and selling a film beyond just paying wages.

Wizard of Oz spent $134,000 for every one person employed.

Endgame spent $86,000 per person (or $43,000 per person if we discount the 6 biggest stars). Even accounting for RDJ being the highest paid actor in history, the movie is still making its enormous budget go further than Wizard of Oz did (and yes, part of that is overseas CGI houses, although not all of it). If Endgame had the same cost per crew member as Oz, it would have cost $542,000,000, and even accounting for things like different length of production, when you factor in the increased cost of location shooting, the fact that the cost of materials relative to labour has increased dramatically over the last 80 years, and said overseas VFX houses, there’s a pretty good argument to be made here that Endgame actually should have have cost more than it did. They could have cut RDJ’s salary to the same as Judy Garland made for Oz, and they’d still be stretching their budget impressively thin.

TL:DR; $350 million sounds like an insane amount of money, and how much of it went to famous actors is pretty crazy, but it’s also paying the salaries of an unbelievable number of people. Modern movie productions happen on a scale the studio system of the golden age of hollywood could only dream of.

Full breakdown of the numbers of cast and crew below the cut because again, I don’t think people really grasp the scale, and it’s (imo) interesting to see it broken down

26 directors (2 main, the rest assistant or 2nd or 3rd unit directors)

2 writers (plus massive number of created by and special thanks to credits for comics writers, but I haven’t counted them, because Marvel Studios was shit about paying its writers even before they were taken over by disney)

1 DP (director of photography, or cinematographer)

16 producers or co-producers

164 actors (minimum, there are likely some uncredited extras who haven't bothered to add themselves to the IMDB page)

69 editors

11 casting directors and staff

163 art, production design, prop, and set decoration staff

112 Hair and Makeup staff

17 Production Managers

242 camera and electrical crew

89 sound and foley (sound-effect) crew

63 special effects artists and crew (this is physical effects stuff - pyro, minitures, that kind of thing)

249 stunt co-ordinators and performers (can you imagine trying to film literally anything else in hollywood at the same time as this that required stunt performers when 249 of them are all away working on a single project, that must have been a fucking nightmare)

6 continuity and script supervisors

49 drivers and transportation staff

73 Musicians, composers, conductors, and music producers (who are sepperate from the on-set sound guys)

43 location managers and scouts

76 animators

89 costume and wardrobe staff

350 additional staff (this is stuff like actor stand-ins, interns and production assistants, security, catering, personal trainers for the actors who have stunt stuff to do, basically anything that doesn't fall under one of the other job titles)

and an unbelievable 2,131 vfx artists and designers

One of my personal internal conspiracy theories is that big budget special effects movies and streaming series with like hundreds of millions or billions of dollars sunk into them are some kind of very open embezzlement schemes.

Even the best paid actors and directors and such can't explain the budget. The money certainly isn't on the screen when it comes to anything from costumes to cinematography to visual effects or editing. It's openly known all the jobs that contribute to "making the pictures look good" are getting their parts of the budget slashed. The Avengers Infinity Wars movies have got $300M price tags and they do NOT look like it. Rings of Power cost like $700M and literally used off the shelf craft store fabric for armor. They dump cheap CGI in because there's no union to keep the pricing fair and shoot everything on green screen so there's no travel and where is the money going?

But for example if you're a producer you also get paid, and all I can think about is how producers with business degrees are deciding on how the budget should be used on these huge shows with country sized price tags and if the budget isn't going into anything or anyone involved in the actual work of the movie, but the guy who thinks the movie needs to cost less and be a business product also thinks he has the most important job and he gets to decide where the money goes? Are these guys just like "okay, our salary will be $299M and the rest goes to the production itself."

I know I'm missing things, but I've seen hundreds of movies that look gorgeous and beautiful and have amazing effects and camerawork and they're all a tenth of the big budget shows and movies, or less, so where is the other 90+% of the money going? It's VISIBLY NOT PRESENT IN THE FINISHED PRODUCT. Who has it?

[no-one-fuck-a-man]

Berry Blues

Season Two

Part Six - (Never Been Kissed) They May Be Friends. But They Will Be Fought Like Foes

Quinn Fabray x Reader

Summary: Your friends caused someone pain, while you threaten pain upon someone else... and your friends.

Word Count: 4,934

WARNINGS:  People doing shitty things, threats

(A/N): And we’re back baby!

-----

He was always over.

Finn.

Practically felt like he lived here half the time. Which only lead to many situations like this one.

"Hey, Rachel, do you have- Oh, for the love of God."

Your eyes quickly moved to be glued to her painted ceiling, after having caught your sister and her boyfriend making out in a compromising position on her bed.

"Y/N, I-"

"Nope. Don't want to hear it. Bye." Spinning on your heel, you hastily took your exit. "You owe me compensation! And for all that is good in this world, use protection!"

The intense need to bleach your eyes was strong after witnessing that for the third time that week.

All you wanted was the textbook she had borrowed.

Things had slowly been getting better between you and the couple. Starting to get back to how they were. The playful, happy atmosphere it used to be.

However, there was the fact that you still had to talk about the situation, and what had led to it. Instead of just sweeping it under the rug and ignoring it.

Just... not now.

You wanted to ignore it for as long as humanly possible. Even if you knew that would be the worst option in the long run.

Finn and Rachel were still confused, and rightfully so.

They understood that what they did hurt you. They expected you to be hurt if you ever found out the truth. They just didn't comprehend why you were so betrayed by it. To the couple, it seemed almost idiotic the way you were reacting, though they would never admit that in fear that your anger would flare, and things would only be worse.

And at the same time, you were never gonna spill the beans about why you felt the way you did.

Even if your sister had an inclination that was on the right path.

After all. Rachel still believed she was psychic.

---

"All right, guys! Let's get down to business," Mr Schuester began the Glee Club lesson, when he spotted your two missing members, Kurt and Tina, walk in, "First, let's welcome back, Noah Puckerman."

Scattered applause sounded, mainly from Santana, Brittany, and Mike, for the boy who scared Artie, causing him to flinch away in reaction.

"Puck. I hope your time in juvie has taught you a lesson or two about right and wrong."

"Are you kidding me?" Puck asked the teacher. "I ruled that place. All I did was crack skulls and lift weights all day."

"Wow, what a catch. Can't believe I ever let you go," Quinn remarked sarcastically from her seat behind Kurt as she played with a pen between her fingers.

You laughed loudly at the blonde's words, throwing your head back, arms tightening in their place folded across your chest with every chuckle.

"And now, drumroll, Finn," your teacher began his announcement, sounding like a game show host, "Because I have in my hand the other competition for Sectionals next month." The club cheered excitedly, as Rachel prepared to write the names down. "First, the acapella choir from the all-boys private school in Westerville, the Dalton Academy Warblers."

"Okay. Hold up. Like a million awesome gay jokes just popped into my head," Santana spoke, unable to keep the smile off of her face.

Mr Schuester ignored her words, instead carrying on with reading your next competition, "And the other team to beat, the hipsters, a first-year club from the Warren Township continuing education program. Now, they are a Glee Club composed entirely of elderly people getting their high school GEDs."

"Is that legal?" Rachel asked sceptically.

"I don't see why it's not." You shrugged. "They're the same as us, just in a different part of life. If we can compete with the same education as them, then so should they."

"How are we supposed to compete against a bunch of adorable old people, though?" Mercedes asked.

"Are you kidding? Brittle bones," Puck pointed out, "Give one of those old ladies a good luck pat on the rear, and it'll shatter her pelvis."

"Maybe let's not assault the elderly, huh?" You squinted over to the boy now glaring at you. "Unless you really do want to go back to juvie."

"Moving on," Mr Schuester continued, "Since it seemed to get you guys jazzed about Sectionals last year, I wanna make this week our second-annual boys versus girls tournament." More celebration from the club. But you only rolled your eyes, knowing how these things tended to go for you and Kurt. "So, split up onto two groups and figure out what songs you're gonna sing," the man finished, pointing in either direction of the choir room, before turning his back on the club.

"Okay, I have mashup ideas in my emergency mashup list," your sister called out to the girls as the group moved to their designated sides of the room. With you remaining seated, letting the others come to you.

"You have an 'emergency mashup list'?" you questioned, but before your sister could answer, the voice of your teacher sounded.

"Kurt, gonna say it again. Boys' team."

"You know, you really should start taking your student's comfort into account," you said as Kurt walked off to the boys' side, disappointed.

"Don't tell me how to teach my lesson, Y/N."

"Well, I apologise for giving you advice on how to make your students happier," you sassed.

This was gonna be a long week.

---

"Look, I'm not tossing the baby out with the bathwater."

"I've totally done that," Brittany said.

Slowly, you turned to face her, with one word on your tongue, "What?"

"We're just making an adjustment," Mr Schuester explained, "Boys, you are doing songs traditionally sung by girl groups. And girls, try some classic rock. Uh, The Who, The Stones."

"Nirvana. Queen. Guns and Roses. AC/DC."

"Exactly." He pointed at you when you listed off some bands. "The more opposite your choice, the more points you get."

"Wait, there's a point system now?"

It took you a few moments to realise that all the girls were looking your way.

"What?" Realisation hit you. "Am I doing all the work now?"

"No," Mercedes said, "But you're the one that knows the most about this kind of music. We definitely need your input."

"And let's be honest, dwarf Berry wouldn't allow anyone but her to be in charge, anyway," Santana added.

"It's not my fault if I have natural leadership skills."

"I'm sure that could be called something else," you joked, getting your sister to glare your way.

---

"I gotta talk to you," Quinn said, walking up to you in the hallway, joining you in your stride.

"What?"

"I think Sam's into Beiste."

"What?"

That got you to stop in place, the girl following suit. People bumped into you thanks to your sudden halt, but you paid them no mind, just staring down at the blonde cheerleader in front of you.

"Are you okay? What's got you thinking this?"

"Do you find her attractive?"

"What?" you repeated, for the third time, only growing more and more confused by Quinn as the seconds ticked by.

"Just answer my question. I've got to know."

"No," you chuckled your answer, "I mean, Coach Beiste is nice and all, but I tend to like girls who I could bench press, not the other way around."

"So, you don't want to sleep with her?" Quinn tried to clarify, her eyebrows rising as she tilted her head forward, pressing for an answer.

"Where the hell is all of this coming from? Of course, I don't want to sleep with her. Let's just say she's not my type, as I said before. What's going on?"

"Nothing," she said, beginning to back away down the hall, "Just wanted to make sure."

"'Make sure' about what? Quinn, what's going on?" No answer, as you watched the girl walk away, her ponytail swaying with every step. "Blondie?!" Still nothing.

With furrowed brows and an open mouth, you were left alone in the middle of the hallway, eternally confused.

You had to find out what was going on.

You didn't have a single good feeling about this.

---

It confused you. The feelings that roared within your chest.

They were reactive and uncontrollable.

You were jealous of Sam's closeness to the girl you wished to call yours, watching from afar as their relationship blossomed into something you envied.

And yet. You still liked the boy. After all, it wasn't his fault. He didn't know. Not about your feelings nor the prior fling you had with the cheerleader. Yet, you were sure if he knew, he would step back, which only made you like him more. Causing those conflicted feelings within you to rage a war against the other.

Which is why you felt guilt, along with satisfaction, when you found the blossoming pair in the midst of some relationship drama, as you were on the hunt for Sam, to walk with him to your shared class.

"I won't get mad at you if you tell me the truth-"

"Oh, that's a lie." You barged into the blonde "couple's" conversation, turning to Sam. "You ready to go to class?"

"Yeah." The boy nodded. Thankful for the escape you gave him from the girl, he hoped to one day, soon call his girlfriend.

"Y/N, please butt out," Quinn said, keeping you and the boy from leaving, "Sam, if you tell me, I-I'll be relieved."

"Sam, welcome to 'Quinn 101'. You see when she does that little half-shrug thing and looks down?" You gestured to the blonde's body as she glared daggers at you. "That means she's lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Really?" the boy challenged, "Because it looks like you're gonna be mad no matter what I say."

"Truth," you called after him when he began walking away, Quinn and yourself moving to follow.

"Do you mind leaving us alone?"

"Hey, me and Sam have a pact. The classes we share, we go there together. And anyway, I think he may need back-up with the rampage you're predictably about to go on. No man left behind!"

Sam threw you a humoured but thankful smile over his shoulder.

"You said another woman's name while you were kissing me."

"Whoa!" you exclaimed, not a care in the world that you had drawn onlookers in the filled hallway to your outcry. Ignoring them entirely, "Okay, I take it back. I'm on her side." You pointed at Quinn, shaking your head at the girl you joked with a, "I would never do that to you." Only she heard the truth lining your tone.

She dramatically rolled her eyes at you, continuing to trail after Sam.

"Look. I get it. She's in a position of power over you, which can be exciting, and you clearly like women who give you a hard time."

"You have something you wanna share there, Quinnie?" your sassed words about her "getting it" was cut off by a realisation cutting into you, "Oh my, God. Is that my type?" you asked yourself from behind the ranting Cheerio, eyes widening as it dawned on you. 'Holy shit, I think that's my type'

Sam spun on his heel in reaction to her words, arms jutted out in front of him, voice masked in hopes other students wouldn't hear, he said, "I'm not cheating on you with my football coach."

"I'm sorry, what now, please?" you paused beside the two, looking between them. "You think he's fucking Beiste? Is this why you were asking me all those weird questions yesterday?"

"What questions?"

"Oh, about-"

"That's not important!" Quinn snapped.

"Look," the boy whispered, moving closer to the blonde so the onlooking students couldn't hear the potentially detrimental conversation.

"Dude, I would watch what you say," you stated, eyes wide and unblinking as you looked at Quinn.

With her head cocked slightly to the side, silently daring the boy to keep talking.

"She has murder in her eyes. She will cut your balls off and feed them to rabid dogs, if you say the wrong thing."

Did the boy heed your warning, though?

No. He did not.

"Can we talk about this in private?"

"Why am I embarrassing you?"

"I'd be embarrassed," you commented, looking around at the many students passing you by.

"It's not what you think."

"What I think is that I'm not putting out for you, so you're getting it wherever you can, including the locker room, with the Beiste."

You had lost count of the number of times your eyes had widened in the past five minutes. Peering past the cheerleader, you spotted the coach she was just ranting about.

Bringing your hand up to the side of your head, you pointed with a jutting finger towards Beiste, muttering to Quinn as you did, "Dude, she's right there."

"What's this?" the coach asked, turning to face your little group when she heard her name spoken, only further spurring on Quinn's anger.

"This is a lovers' quarrel, and it's your fault."

"Blondie, she will snap you over her knee without breaking a sweat. I'd watch what you say," you warned her in a whisper, leaning in close to her ear.

Quinn pushed you away from her, a huff of air leaving you when her elbow connected with your stomach.

"Watch your tone with me, missy. You crap on my led, I'll cut it off."

"What did you do?" you hissed over to Sam.

"I didn't do anything."

You gestured your hand out to the two women.

"Uh, I beg to fucking differ."

"I'll leave you two," Quinn said, backing up. And strutting past Mr Schue.

"Uh, I'm here too? Quinn?" Pointing over your shoulder with your thumb, you asked Sam, "The hell is up with her, with this shit?

"Everything okay?"

"God, don't sneak up on me like that," you said, jumping back at Mr Schuester's curious words. Moving aside to let the teacher in on the conversation.

Beiste was speechless in reaction to the man's question. More confusion for you and the two adults came not a second later in the form of your friend.

"Stay away from my woman." The boy glared at her before miming that he was watching his coach.

"Mikey? What-?"

"What the hell is going on around here?"

"I was thinking the exact same thing, coach."

---

Your curiosity on the whole Beiste thing wasn't sated, as Mr Schuester had sent you away in favour of talking with Sam and Mike alone. Considering you were in the dark about the situation, just as much as he was, and he wouldn't be able to get any answers out of you.

So, here you were, hours later, sitting in the choir room with the girls as you all prepared for the competition against the boys.

"The boys beat us the last time we competed against them. And we've gotta bring the noise hard this time."

"To be fair, they didn't officially beat us," Quinn countered Mercedes' point, "We got busted for vitamin D possession before the vote."

"Blondie's right," you said, mildly distracted by the patch you were sewing onto the back of your leather jacket, "Although, we can't really take any blame for that, 'cause we didn't take any. 'Cause, she was pregnant, and I'm... smart."

"Wait. Something's definitely wrong," Santana spoke suddenly, "Why isn't Rachel talking?"

A thread covered Brittany was next to voice her remark on your sister's silence.

"Yeah, she should totally be bossing us around right now."

"The idea of the assignment was to do the opposite of what we normally do," Rachel pointed out as she tried to thread cotton through the small hole of the needle.

After the debacle of an outfit, she wore during 'Theatricality' week last year had led you into teaching your sister how to sew.

Which you regretted as soon as you started.

But she got a grasp on the basics, so you would consider that a mission successful.

"I'm just trying to stick to the lesson plan, which is proving nearly impossible since you're glueing those sequins on backwards."

Slowly, Santana turned to glare past your seat behind Quinn and Brittany's chairs and right at your sister. Watching as she pointed and yelled.

"Spies!"

Looking up, you spotted Puck and Artie.

"I wouldn't worry about them, Rach. Maybe Artie a little. Definitely not Puck."

"Lighten up," the mohican man told your sister, ignoring your dig at him, "We're here to talk to Santana and Brittany."

Santanna hummed when the boys drew close, "So, how does it feel to be a free man?"

"He misses his cellmate," you spoke dryly, "They had a torrid love affair." Gaining small chuckles from some of the girls in the room.

"All I can say is that I don't want a long-term relationship with either of you," Artie stated randomly, "Especially Brittany, since I'm not in love with her."

"Smooth man," you mumbled.

"Do you guys wanna like, go out to dinner tonight?" Brittany asked.

"Not really."

"Oh," Santana spoke sadly to Puckerman's flat-out denial.

"Tell you what. You two show up at Breadstix tomorrow night at around seven. and if we don't find hotter chicks to date tonight, we might show up."

"I'm gonna punch him," you told Quinn.

"You are totally cool."

"Awesome," Santana and Brittany said. Drawing everyone's attention to them. Looking at the two Cheerios like they were out of their minds.

"What?" you asked as the boys made their way from the room, "Are you high-? Oh my, God. They're on vitamin D again."

"We're not on vitamin D, dumbass," Santana said.

"Then what the fuck was that?!" you asked, pointing a hand to the door Artie and Puck left through.

"It was arranging a double date."

"It was insanity. Is what it was."

---

"Thanks for this, Y/N."

"What happened?" you asked the boy, with arms outstretched, only adding to your question.

You had been walking to your car after a tiring day at work, fitting in some planters and benches at a local care facility. When your phone vibrated in your pocket.

It was Artie, and he needed your help.

So, you made a detour to Breadstix on your way back home.

The sky was almost black as you walked through the restaurant parking lot towards the boy waiting for you by the entrance.

"Puck and I took Santana and Brittany out on a double date."

"Yeah, I gathered from that act a few days ago in the choir room. But, why'd they leave you here?" you asked, beginning to push him towards your parked car.

"Puck wanted to 'dine and dash', but I wussed out and paid for the meal."

"So, they left you here because you have a soul?" you clarified, before sighing, "You did the right thing, Artie. There's a reason why Puckerman isn't really liked around town. You keep doing the right thing, wheels."

"Thanks, Y/N."

"Anything, buddy. Anytime."

---

Applause and cheers filled the room after your performance with the girls.

"Very, very, impressive," Mr Schuester complimented, "But Y/N, I wish you were more involved in the performance."

"What you on about? I was playing the guitar the whole time," you replied, "That guitar solo wasn't easy, you know."

"I think I, along with the guys, would have liked to see you up there on the platform with the girls."

"Listen, Mr Schue, This is the best you're gonna get. Considering this makes me uncomfortable, and you know that."

"Well, anyway," the teacher moved on awkwardly, "What was it that made you guys choose these songs?"

"Well-"

You cut your sister off as you place the guitar back on its stand, stepping towards the girls, "Me. It was all me."

Before anything else could be said, Becky Jackson entered the room, running to the Spanish teacher with a note in her hand.

Brittany moved from under your arm to go speak with Santana, leaving you with the other blonde you had thrown your arm over.

"You look really cute like this, you know?" you complimented her.

"Do I?"

A few nods. "Yeah."

"You look pretty good yourself."

"If my bike was ready, I'd offer to take you for a ride on it. We are both dressed for it."

"You won't catch me dead on one of those things." Quinn pointed at you.

"Still too scared?"

"Too dangerous."

"You know I'd be safe." You smiled. "Especially if you were on the back."

"You're not gonna convince me otherwise," she said with a laugh, shaking her head.

While you and the blonde were talking, making your way out of the room, neither of you noticed the look Kurt and Mercedes shared at your closeness.

The next time you were in the choir room wasn't as pleasant.

"Well, I genuinely hope you guys are happy, because Coach Beiste has quit."

"Hold up. What?"

"Wait. What?" Finn asked, just as confused as you, "That's terrible."

"Yeah, that's not what we want," Sam added.

"That's the opposite of what we want," Artie was next to speak from beside you, "The football team was actually winning."

"Well, you better put your heads together and find a way to get her back, fast, because I am actually ashamed of you," Mr Schuester's tone turned angered now, "You really hurt someone who is a great addition to this school."

"Whoa." You held up your hand. "I don't appreciate somebody being ashamed of me and telling me that I hurt someone when I didn't even do anything, to begin with."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. What exactly did we do?" your sister asked, not appreciating the teacher's words nor tone either.

"No, no. It's us," her boyfriend cleared it up for everyone who was confused. "The boys."

"And Tina," Mike added.

"Tina?" you asked, confused, looking behind you at the girl.

Finn started to explain what was going on, his words and movements uncomfortable during his admittance.

"We sort of figured out that picturing the Beiste while making out was even better than a cold shower." Then he rushed to save himself from embarrassment, in front of his girlfriend, "Uh- I mean, I-I don't... ever."

In a cough, you said, "The mail." Gaining a glare from the tall boy.

Then his words registered with you.

"Wait. You do what?! Do you know how insulting that is to someone? And then you expect them not to feel bad about it when they find out? The hell is wrong with you guys?"

"Can I just say, this is what happens when people don't put out," Santana said, "If everyone put out, we would have a winning football team."

"Shut up, San. People can have sex if they do or don't want to."

"Do you have this problem that the guys do?" she asked you.

'We have sex enough for you to full-well know that answer'

"I really don't want to hear this," Rachel protested, from her seat.

Smirking at your sister's distress, you answered the question, "No. Strangely enough, I can control myself. And even if I did, it wouldn't matter because I can do it multiple times. And if I had to "cool down" I would be normal and think of my grandma, or dead puppies, or something."

Mr Schuester had grown uncomfortable with your words, but before he could speak, Principal Figgins entered the choir room.

"William. I need to see you and Noah Puckerman in my office, please."

"Oh, God, Puckerman's going back to juvie. There is a God!"

"Shut up, Berry," the boy grumbled as he walked down the platforms.

"Send me a postcard!"

---

You were calm.

Everything was fine.

Seriously. Everything was truly fine.

That was until you spotted Karofsky being his douchebag of a self, pushing a kid up against the metal fence lining the outdoor staircase, as Kurt watched on, on the way to your next class.

Putting two and two together, you quickly sprung into action and rushed down the stairs to help the boys out.

"You have to stop this!" Kurt yelled, trying to push Karofsky off of the random boy.

The bully was surprised when suddenly he was the one pressed up against the chain wall, with you bearing down on him.

Unknown to the blonde onlooker, who followed behind you on the stairs.

"You leave them alone, you hear me?" you told him, pointing in his face, "You leave Kurt and-" A glance up and down at the stranger wearing a black and red school uniform. "This kid, I don't know alone, or else I'll pull a Sue Sylvester and push you down these stairs."

"No, you won't," a voice suddenly sounded behind you.

A voice you knew.

A hand wrapped into the worn denim of the jacket you wore, using that to tug you away from the boy you had pressed up against the makeshift wall and down the stairs, you had just threatened to push him down.

Peering over your shoulder, you spotted Quinn Fabray.

"What are you doing?" you almost sneered, pulling away from the hold she had on you, straightening out your jacket.

Yet she still pulled you along, directing you to walk away from where you could potentially do some serious damage to the boy.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was stopping Karofsky from bullying Kurt and some random kid."

"By threatening to push him down the stairs?" she came closer to hiss at you.

"Did you really think I was gonna do that?"

"No, of course not. But he doesn't know that, does he?"

"So, what? Is this you trying to tell me that you care if he's scared or not?"

"No. I don't care about Karofsky." Quinn rolled her eyes at you. "I care about you. I care about you going to juvie because he tells someone about it."

Things were silent for a few seconds until you finally spoke, "I wouldn't go to juvie for that."

With a sigh, the blonde moved to stop in front of you, with a hand pressed against your abdomen.

"Y/N, contrary to what you may sometimes believe, I do care about you. You can't go around threatening people. I don't want you to get into trouble. You're worth so much more than that."

You scoffed in reaction to her words. Shaking your head lightly and turning your face away from her. Not believing that she thought of you that way, thanks to your complicated relationship with her.

"Hey." A hand gripped the sides of your jaw, pulling you back to face her, it dropping to your chest as she continued, "You believe in me. That I can obtain my dreams. You told me so yourself. I believe the same for you. So, don't let a jerk like Karofsky mess up your future. Because he's not worth it. Okay?"

Quinn waited for you to say something.

However, you only gave her a relinquished nod of agreement. Unable to meet her eyes as you did.

"Good," she stated with a smile. Hand on your chest, moving to wrap around the collar of your jacket, "Now, come on. Let's get to class."

"God. What is it with you and dragging me around, Fabray?"

---

"I don't get it. It's boys against the girls, but... what does the winner get?"

"Money," you joked from where you stood, leaning against the stacks of books beside your teacher.

"Actually," Finn clarified, "We were hoping for your forgiveness."

"The girls and I don't need that." A shrug. "Except for Tina. You should really be up there with them," you called over to the girl.

Sam cleared his throat, bringing the attention back to the tuxed boys

"Yeah. We just wanted to apologise for hurting your feelings."

"Coach Beiste, we think you're awesome," Finn told the woman, "And even though you're all hard and tough on the outside, it doesn't mean you're not the opposite on the inside."

"Like a chocolate turtle," Sam said.

"Totally. You're nougatty. We totally get that now."

"Stop comparing her to food, dude," you told Finn. Mr Schue nodded beside you, "Plus, you're making me hungry."

"You're like a mashup," the boy said.

"Why don't you guys just get to the song?" the Spanish teacher prompted before the dopey boy could compare the coach to anything else.

"Totally." Artie's eyes were screaming his thanks to the man. "This mashup is dedicated to you, coach. hard and badass on one hand and soft and girlie on the other."

"Yeah, and we hope it makes you smile, 'cause when you smile, you're pretty, and it lights up the room," Puckerman added, "Seriously."

"Also, if you don't like it and don't accept our apology, we're afraid that Y/N may kick our asses," Arte continued, turning all of the attention to you as you cracked your knuckles in preparation, glare upon your face at the boys- And Tina.

"Music, guys!" Mr Schue rushed.

The performance ended with panting boys and cheers.

The football coach nodded her head with a big smile across her face.

"It was really good. I liked it." Beiste rose to her feet. "Thank you."

Artie waved the boys and their coach into a group hug, gaining another round of applause from the group.

"So, are we forgiven?" Sam asked once they pulled away.

"You're forgiven."

"So, no punching?"

Beiste turned you, shaking her head. "No punching.

"Damn it," you hissed to yourself, moving your arm in a 'rats!' motion.

"You really wanted to beat up your friends that badly?" Quinn asked with a smile.

"Sometimes they annoy me!"

-----

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[juletheghoul]

Burning Hour (Part 3)

This series has completely taken over my life and I am so happy you are all enjoying it so much - thank you for all of the lovely messages and comments - I treasure them deeply.

So - you shouldn't be surprised that this particular moment on the red carpet absolutely inspired a scene in this story and I regret nothing. Hope you all enjoy this fantasy that's keeping me going lol.

Din Djarin x F!Reader (Virgin reader)

Pairing: Din x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) Angst, pining, slow-burn, implied arranged marriage, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age) Yearning, jealousy, fingering/touching / slight dirty talk (slightly possessive)

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Masterlist Series Masterlist Part 4

—

You floated through the morning.

Your dreams were full of kisses, of declarations of love and beskar glinting under the sun and it was hard to concentrate on anything.

You smiled to yourself as you broke your fast with warm bread and butter, feeling his eyes on you from his place behind your father.

“Your highness-” Your father’s advisor came through the door holding the usual paperwork, things for him to look over, letters to read. “-A letter has come for the Princess.” He turned to you then with a smile. He was an old man, grandfatherly and sweet. He handed it to you and you noticed from the corner of your eye Din’s helmet turn towards you.

It was a small letter and you noticed how beautiful the script was as you opened it.

Dearest Princess,

I would be honoured if you were to join me here at my home for dinner. My messenger awaits your response and if you agree, I will send my personal household guard to accompany you. I also imagine your knight will be in attendance, I welcome him and whoever else you choose to bring at my table. Ruby as well of course.

Hoping you’ll say yes.

Ever yours,

Poe. D.

“It’s from Poe, he asks that I join him this evening for dinner.” You were frowning at the letter, conflicted because you wanted to stay home, wanted to meet Din in the garden again. A tiny part of you however, the tiniest part wanted to say yes - wanted to see how Poe would behave. Part of you wanted him to do something unforgivable to wipe the smiles off your parents faces.

“Oh but you must go!” Your father’s voice boomed through the room and you imagined that you could almost hear Din’s jaw clenching.

“Yes my darling, you must go. What does the letter say?” Your mother held her hand out and you handed it to her. She smiled as she read it. “Din, you must accompany her.” She was smiling big, excited at the prospect of a match having been made. No one bothered to ask if you wanted to go.

“Yes of course, let his messenger know that the Princess will be in attendance. She will go, Din- I leave her safety in your hands. Take you who must.” It had been decided for you, and you had to accept it. You felt Mila’s hand grasp yours under the table in understanding.

-

“Which gown would you like to wear your highness?” She asked sadly as you put on your undergarments and you sighed.

Whichever one makes everyone leave me alone.

“Whichever you think would look best sweetling, I have no preference.” You said the words and they were honest. Yes - Poe was charming and sweet, handsome and in another life you would have been faint with excitement at his interest in you but you were in love with Din. He was the one you wanted to share a meal with. He was the one you wanted to kiss in the open - to have holding your hand as you sat together in front of the hearth. He was the one you wanted in your bed.

“How about this one?” She held out a lovely powder blue gown. You would have said no, something more plain but you had to be seen to be making an effort.

“Yes, that will do nicely.” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes. She didn’t comment on it.

“I will tie a blue ribbon around Ruby’s neck to match, and I think you have some sapphires as well.” She brought over a tray of jewelry for you to peruse while she laced up your gown.

Your mind drifted to an interesting place. You imagined you were preparing for dinner with Din and imagined your knight picking out jewels for you to wear.

Would he prefer diamonds? Would he like me better in opals or emeralds?

You had a feeling he wouldn’t mind either way, but it was lovely to pretend even for a moment. She placed a dark blue cloak about your shoulders and stood back.

“You look beautiful Princess, the blue looks lovely against your skin.” She held up a silvered looking glass and you saw the reflection of a happy woman, although why she was happy - no one could know.

“Thank you sweetling, let's get this night over with shall we?” You smiled at her as you both made your way outside.

---

Din, along with five of his best knights, waited for her to set out for Damerons home. Damerons own household guard waited as well, having been sent to accompany her and he surveyed them. They seemed competent enough, he gave them their space nonetheless.

It was getting more and more difficult to put the future out of his mind - he knew that the Princess would marry at some point, it was her duty as Queen. She might even marry Poe - he knew that objectively they were a good match but his mind simply couldn’t stay objective. Not when it came to her.

This whole thing was moving faster than he hoped and he didn’t know what he could do about it.

You have to face facts Djarin, you’ll never marry her. You are a knight, she is a Princess, there is no place for you. Maybe you should just let her go.

It was in him to do so, to ignore his feelings for her; to find Gisela and ask her to marry him - have a couple of little ones and pray for things to work out. The harsh words to get her to hate him on the tip of his tongue but they evaporated like dew on a sunny day when he saw her come out to meet him.

She was a gem- a bright, glittering thing that he wanted so desperately to hold onto.

“I am ready Sir, shall we?” She smiled shyly and he nodded.

“Of course Princess, allow me.” He guided her into the wheelhouse, dreading and cherishing every single second.

--

The ride was uneventful, the road was quiet thankfully with nothing to see but long swathes of trees and greenery in the gloaming of the evening.

Ruby was napping softly in your lap but woke quickly when you arrived, her little tail wagging happily at the prospect of exploring.

“Yes my little darling - we are here.” She was in Mila’s arms when you pet her, the two of you waiting for the wheelhouse to come to a stop.

Din opened the door for you, he was helping you climb down when you heard Poe’s voice sounding out.

“Princess, I am so pleased you agreed to come-” He was striding over, his squire on his heels. “-I am happy to see you all. Please - be welcome.” He was smiling big at everyone as his guards retreated, no doubt returning to their posts. He crouched quickly to pet Ruby before approaching you.

“Hello Poe, I thank you for your invitation.” You smiled as you took in your surroundings. His home was a beautiful sprawling estate. He must have been wealthier than you thought. “You must give me a tour of the grounds - I would love to see the gardens.” You smiled at him as he offered you his arm.

“Of course Princess, I will show you whatever you wish after our meal - unless you’d like to go now?” He paused for a moment.

“After dinner would be just fine.” You answered as he guided all of you inside.

--

You weren’t sure what to expect about his home when the letter had come in earlier but it was a pleasant surprise. There were fresh cut flowers everywhere, painstakingly detailed tapestries hung up on the walls as you made your way to the large dining room. Lush carpets and plush chairs, truly a man who enjoyed his comforts.

“You have a lovely home Poe.” You smiled as he led you to your seat.

“I thank you Princess -“ He turned to Din and the other Mandalorians waiting by the table. “-Please, sit with us. I meant what I said, you are all welcome at my table.” He gestured to them to sit.

“I do not wish to intrude, we would be happy to eat with the rest of your household guard.” Din replied, his voice was clipped however.

“Nonsense. I insist, I dare say the Princess would be more comfortable if you were to join us.” He said it with an easy smile and Din hesitated slightly before agreeing. They all sat, lining their helmets up before them.

Din barely spoke.

He had never been one for long speeches - you were unsure whether it was because of the helmet, or just his nature. The other Mandalorians were friendlier and Poe took it all in stride. You could see that he took nothing personal and treated them just as he treated you.

Aside from Din’s cool demeanor and Poe’s etiquette, the dinner went well. The food was wonderful and you didn’t fail to notice some of your favourites on the menu.

“I took the liberty of finding out what you like to eat.” He said it quietly, not wanting to draw attention and you favoured him with a smile. It was hard not to like him, he was very thoughtful.

Once the meal was done, he fulfilled his promise and escorted you outside. It was much more open than the gardens back home - everything illuminated by torches and lanterns. There were flowers and neatly pruned shrubbery surrounding the large building. You noticed a stable on one side, as well a modest greenhouse on the other.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’re used to but I enjoy it. The kennels are just behind the stables and there are flowers and different fruit trees just to the right there - that’s where they get the most sun. I’m afraid the night doesn’t do it justice, it’s much lovelier during the day.” He was walking you through the grounds, your arm tucked under his as your party followed.

“It’s lovely, truly.” You were sincere and you couldn’t help but look up, the sky awash in stars. “I would imagine you must spend a lot of time out here.” You let him guide the way.

“Not as often as I'd like to, but I try. Perhaps when we marry I’ll make more of an effort.” He said it with a wink and you scoffed loudly but without malice.

“Oh is that so? Well then I suppose I’ll have to change some things around since in your mind I’ll live here hm?” Your tone was playful but sarcastic and you were acutely aware of Din following the two of you.

“Oh yes Princess, I am quite sure. My home is yours and you may do with it what you will. I live only to make you happy.” He was just as playful and as annoyed as you were that he was so confident in your union, it was also aggravatingly refreshing to be able to speak to someone so honestly - better yet for them to respond in kind.

You ignored it, Poe was charming, that’s all.

Much to your annoyance, the night was enjoyable. Poe was an excellent host and it was later than you had originally planned when you set off for home. The woods were pitch black in some spots, it made you anxious to ride in the wheelhouse while the world outside seemed like it didn’t exist. The soft light of the moon doing nothing to pierce through the darkness of the road at times.

Reaching the palace had been a relief and you said as much when you stepped out.

“You should have told me Princess, I would have ridden in it with you - if it would have helped.” He spoke as he guided you inside. You had wanted to, but the temptation of having him so close would have been too much - and as much as Mila knew about your feelings towards him - you didn’t want her to see you kissing him.

You patted his arm in silent thanks and he said nothing else.

When you reached your room you hesitated at the door, wanting him to pull you away somewhere but he didn’t - instead he waited until Mila got in. He took his helmet off and you smiled at the state of his hair. Your fingers itched to ruffle through it.

“Princess, if it’s not too late, I would ask you to join me for a midnight ride.” He waited for your answer and your smile widened.

“Of course! Would you permit me to change quickly?” You didn’t want to ride in such a stuffy gown - as beautiful as it was.

“I will wait however long it takes.” He motioned for you to go and you did - urging Mila to help you once you reached your bedchamber.

“The soft linen dress I think - with the long shift and the heavy cloak. I want to be comfortable and warm.” You changed as fast as humanly possible - all but ripping the jewelry off and within a few minutes you were rushing out the door. The two of you making your way towards the stables as silently as possible.

You watched him work deftly, his skilled hands saddling his horse with ease. One horse, not two.

“Are we to ride together?” You looked at him confused.

“Is this a problem for you Princess? I thought it might be quicker to get us to safety should something happen if we were on the same horse. I could saddle you your own if you prefer - we just wouldn’t travel too far.” He hesitated momentarily and your heart leapt at the thought that he would be holding you so closely.

“I trust your judgment Sir, one horse it is.” You kept your voice neutral and he nodded, finishing his work quickly. Once he was done - he helped you up and pulled himself up behind you. The cool beskar pressed up against your back as his arms reached around you to grab the reins.

Your dress pooled up around your thighs slightly, but your legs were covered by your big cloak but it was exciting nonetheless. You felt exposed, with his proximity it excited you way more than it should have. It felt forbidden, taboo and thrilling to have it feel like he was holding you. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning back into his body slightly but he didn’t complain.

The ride through the forest was quiet except for the sound of the night birds, the crickets and the creatures that prowled at this time. The sound of the horses' steps, the sound of its breathing mixing with yours as well as Din’s. He rode through trees, through the little paths only he seemed to know and after a while you were beside a lake. The soft sound of the water kissing the shore added to the nightsong and you were happy that he had brought you here. He had been silent the whole ride, but you felt him take his helmet off behind you and secure it somehow to the saddle.

“You should know that you looked exceptionally lovely today Princess, blue is your colour.” His breath tickled your neck and you shivered. You turned slightly to look back but you couldn’t fully face him, the angle awkward but he kissed you just under your ear to let you know it was okay.

“I thank you Sir, I hoped you would like it.” You leaned back into his arms to tuck your head under his chin.

“You wore that for me? I thought you wore it for Dameron.” His hands came up to hold onto your arms as he pressed little kisses to your neck.

“I always dress for you.” You left it at that, hoping he would understand that despite everything- he was the one you wanted.

“Can I confess something?” His hand came up to slowly undo the cloak tied at your throat.

“Yes, anything.” You answered almost breathlessly, watching his hands open up the cloak to expose your shoulders, the skin of your thighs poking out where the dress had bunched up even more.

“You might think me wicked but, I thought about what it would be like to kiss you.” His hand trailed down as he spoke, rubbing at your thighs over your dress and you watched them in the low light of the moon, mesmerized.

“You’ve kissed me before Sir, you could kiss me now.” You turned a little more but he stopped you.

“I wasn’t thinking about kissing your mouth lovely girl, I was thinking about kissing you somewhere else.” His hands slowly gathered the fabric of your dress, bunching it in his fist - lifting it inch by inch to bare your legs to him. “May I show you where I want to kiss you?” He stopped but you clung onto his arms around you.

“Yes - please show me.” You felt is other hand join the fray and soon he had exposed your lower half to the cool night air. Your undergarments were damp you knew it - the arousal pooling low in your belly at the thought that he might touch you where you most wanted him to. He didn’t disappoint.

His hand trailed up your inner thigh lightly, slowly, up until he skillfully slid it into your undergarments. He groaned deep in his chest when he touched your bare sex.

“Right here. I long to kiss you, taste you here.” His touch was feather light on the lips of your womanhood, slipping along the seam of you. You whimpered, no one had ever touched you here and you felt the slick dripping out of you as you let him explore. “Would you let me Princess? Would you let me bury my tongue right here?” He dipped his fingers low, parting you slightly to dip his fingers just at the entrance - collecting your arousal onto his fingers before slipping them out and bringing them to his mouth behind you. You moaned at the sound of him sucking you off of them and you nodded frantically.

“Yes Din, I would let you - I’m yours.” You moaned the words and his other hand held you in place.

“And I am yours.” He responded before bringing his hand back to where you craved it, this time he spread the lips of your cunt open wide, honing his middle finger on the pearl of your sex. He rubbed tight, slow circles around it and you moaned - trying desperately to open your legs wider. He chuckled darkly behind you.

“Does that feel good Princess?” He turned your face with his other hand, twisting his upper body enough to capture your mouth in a messy kiss, not quite aligned but it sent a shiver of arousal through you and you felt yourself climbing higher and higher- his finger relentless as he sped up a little.

“Yes - Gods yes - it feels so good Din, I thought about you too.” You moaned the words into his mouth. “I think about you touching me like this, when I do it to myself.” He groaned at your confession, his tongue thick in your mouth when he kissed you again.

His finger dipped low to collect more wetness and the glide of it was just right, just slippery enough to send you over the edge and you almost screamed. Your body seizing up with pleasure as your sex clenched around nothing. He cooed into your ear as you rode it out.

“You are intoxicating my lovely one.” He kissed your neck, as he lowered your skirts.

You watched him, blissed out and boneless as he licked his fingers before grabbing the reins again and slowly making his way back to the palace.

-

Mila was snoring softly when you slipped into the room and you were careful not to wake her and as tired as you were from travel it took you a long time to fall asleep. Your heart full of love for Din and a hunger you couldn’t satiate filled your belly. It was a craving for his body, for his kisses, for physical love a woman shared with her husband. You fell asleep hoping - though secretly knowing- that he craved you the same way.

—-

As happy as you were when you awoke the next morning, it was quickly dampened - your father informed you that Poe was to arrive at the Palace as his honoured guest. That he was to stay for a time as a gesture of good will.

You saw right through it.

Your parents had decided that Poe was the suitor they wanted for you and they weren’t being at all subtle.

They informed you with big smiles on their faces, no doubt in hopes of pushing you towards him. It was exhausting - this constant reminder that you would never be truly free to live the life you wanted with Din.

When Poe arrived, he was happy - taking this as a sign that he was winning you over.

“Greetings Princess, I cannot tell you how happy I am to be able to spend more time with you.” He was all smiles and you had no choice but to smile back.

“It will be interesting for sure.” With the way you felt about Din, the intense desire to be around him was at the forefront of your mind. As well as the way Din behaved around Poe, it would definitely be interesting to say the least.

—

Your father invited Poe to dine at your private table, and he engaged him in conversation almost the whole night. They spoke of the future, of how Poe would help rule if he were indeed to marry you. Your mother smiled silently, happy to let the conversation center around the two of you.

Din stood still behind your fathers chair and you wanted nothing more than to pull him to sit with you. To talk to him, kiss him and feed him from your own plate.

“I would want to help people to be quite honest, extend a hand to those that aren’t as fortunate as us. There are people out there starving and that doesn’t sit right with me.” He was honest, to a fault like he said but you admired that.

“That’s very noble of you my boy.” The king nodded.

“It’s very honourable isn’t it my darling?” Your mother smiled at you and you smiled back, nodding around a bite of your food.

“I’m sure the Princess and I could do much and more to help the people who need it the most, if she would let me that is.” He had a shy, genuine smile for you, tentatively reaching over and taking your hand in his. You couldn’t very well snatch it back but you felt Din’s eyes burning into the interaction.

This could get messy.

“Princess, I would humbly ask that you accompany me for a walk through the grounds - chaperoned by your knight of course.” He asked as the remnants of the meal were taken away.

“Oh I’m sure she’d love to join you wouldn’t you sweetling?” Your mother cooed, and you smiled and nodded.

“Yes of course.” You let him guide you, Din following closely behind.

—

“I hope I’m not intruding - I know that the King and Queen are very keen for this to work between us.” He held your hand as you walked arm in arm and you couldn’t help but sigh softly.

“Yes they are aren’t they.” Your tone came out a little more exasperated than you’d hoped but he was well aware that you were not to be swayed by him so easily, you knew he should expect some hesitancy from you.

“I understand that you aren’t impressed and that I am most likely not your first choice. For all I know you might already have your eye on someone else.” He laughed and you couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at Din. “Regardless of that Princess, I know this must be difficult for you but I beg of you to give me a chance to show you that there is potential here. I believe that in time you might come to love me.” He pulled your hand up to his mouth and kissed your fingers.

“You are selling yourself quite hard Poe, I appreciate that you understand that my feelings for you aren’t where you want them to be.” You looked up at him apologetically, expecting him to have a sad look on his face but he surprised you; he was smiling - content to listen to you speak.

“I know, it’s not in you right now but I believe you will see me in a different light. I have faith.” He left the conversation there.

——

It was hard to find time to meet with Din, Poe seemed to be everywhere and his determination seemingly had no bounds.

Your mother found you as you dressed for the day - she had a note from Poe. He was asking you to accompany him into town to hand out some supplies. You couldn’t refuse him, not when your mother had delivered it herself.

“Will Din accompany us?” You asked it offhand, your voice neutral - your face a mask of nonchalance.

“No your father is going on a hunt and Din will be protecting him, there will be other guards with you.” She said it with a shake of her hand as she searched your wardrobe for an appropriate dress. “This will do nicely.” She picked out an off the shoulder, deep berry coloured dress that was not at all practical for a day out in the city.

It would have to do.

-

He had taken you to an orphanage in the heart of the city. There were kids running around of all ages and the older ones ran towards Poe when you entered - recognizing him. He had a big smile on his face as they hugged him around the middle, all decorum forgotten.

“Poe did you bring us anything?” A boy of about twelve years was eager, looking around you to the entourage of guards waiting behind you.

“Of course, brought all of you some good stuff like I always do.” He ruffled the boys hair before he held his hand out to you, you smiled and stepped forward. “I have someone very special here with me today, this is the Princess. Come on over and say hello.” He called them over to you and you saw some of the little girls eyes light up. They flocked to you, asking you if you were indeed the Princess. Asked you if you had a crown, and most importantly why you were there. They were precious.

“She’s here to help just like I am.” Poe answered for you.

A little girl of about six pulled on your dress and you lowered yourself slightly to be at her level.

“Princess, I like your dress, you’re so pretty.” She was smiling at you, her hair was a tangle but her eyes were bright.

“Thank you sweetling, you are much prettier I must say.” You moved the hair out of her eyes and she smiled wide, her little hand clutching at a makeshift cloth doll.

You helped Poe hand out toys and new clothes and there was food for them to eat. You spent the day playing with them and learning about their lives. The women who ran the orphanage knew him and you saw that all of the talk of helping the less fortunate was real, he had already been doing much more than you had ever even imagined.

It was hard to deny the little spark of something that he held within you.

He was handsome, he was kind and smart- funny and generous and with the way his eyes found yours throughout the day; he felt something for you. His eyes were piercing, dark and mysterious and for the first time, he gave you butterflies.

One of the little ones was showing you his space within the building, his bed and his tiny toy horse. He was waxing poetic about how one day he would be a knight. You were smiling at him when Poe stood next to you, his gaze heavy and it sent a flush crawling up your neck to light up your ears.

The fabric at his neck was crumpled and you couldn’t help but reach up to fix it, your arm extended over to him and his gaze focused on it, reached up to hold it to his neck. He placed a delicate kiss to your bicep and pulled you closer. The act was small, but so intimate it did something to you. Melted a tiny piece of you that up until now was frozen to him and he saw it on your face. Felt it in the way you let him hold you close, your arm still around his neck, his hand moving down to hold onto your waist.

The little boy was in front of you now, asking Poe if he would ever give him a real horse and he laughed, not unkindly.

“One day my boy, one day I will give you a horse - only if you promise to behave and be on your best behaviour. Can you do that?” The little boy nodded sagely promising he would. You didn’t pull your arm away, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

—-

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[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings/Disclaimer: NSFW content/Older Ateez but age differences is written withing legal boundaries. Also mentions of infidelity (which I don't condone, justify nor encourage), corruption kink and loss of virginity.

A/N: Also, Yeosang's reaction is a sneak peek at the Dilf! Fic in my w.i.p.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

It all started as a way to get a passing grade for the semester, but soon became a mission to get inside your professor's pants. You still remembered the unamused gaze he gave you when you first suggested you 'help' him out.

"Nice try Miss Y/N.... but perhaps instead of wasting time behind the bleachers sucking off the jocks' cocks, maybe dip your head instead into your books and study for once."

You couldn't believe he'd actually reject you. No man had ever rejected you, they always fell to your charms. Professor Kim was about to become your biggest challenge yet and you didn't mind. Besides, something about fucking an older man had you pulling out your trusted vibrator out so many times during the night. Kim Hongjoong was just so fucking hot and you desperately wanted him, even if for one night.

"Please Mr. Kim..... you know they say I give the best blow jobs here." You tried yet again one day when everyone else left.

"They? You mean horny 20 something year olds who bust a nut by just a booby pic?"

For the first time, his poker face finally had an expression in the form of a smirk.

"Honey, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that. I've had my cock sucked by countless women in all my years. Besides..."

Leaning closer to you, he reached a hand out so his thumb could graze across your bottom lip.

"What makes you think a pretty young thing like you can take a mature cock like mine? You've probably never even had one half the size of mine."

You let out an involuntary moan as you pictured just how well endowed your teacher was. Looking down, you noticed the obvious bulge he was donning and you wanted nothing more than to pull him out and suck him dry. It seemed he noticed since he sat back down on his chair. Gesturing for you to come over, you practically hopped over to him, letting him guide you on your knees as he began to take himself out.

"But do knock yourself out. I'm kinda curious to see what the newer generations do nowadays."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Others would have complained and would be annoyed by the fact their new neighbors would have almost daily fights between them, typical marital disputes. But not you, you didn't mind hearing their screaming that was clearly heard through the walls. Especially since more often than not their fights would end in rough, angry sex that had you touching yourself at nights, a guilty pleasure you always looked forward to.

And you had been eyeing the husband from the moment the couple moved in. Park Seonghwa was everything you looked for in a man and even more. Handsome, mature, tall, well sculpted, responsible, sexy as hell and you knew for a fact he could definitely fuck. One day you knocked over at their door to give them one of them many pastries you'd often bake for your neighbors in the building.

"You know Mr. Park....if you ever get too frustrated with your wife....my door is always open." You boldly offered him.

He looked at you in shock but you sent him a reassuring wink before walking back to your apartment, making sure to sway your hips so he could have the image engraved in his mind. And boy did you rile him up. Now he couldn't stop thinking about you. You're all he had in his head. Now whenever he'd fight, he'd storm out and you'd welcome him, proud to get what his wife wasn't getting anymore. And you were hell bent on making sure you'd keep him to yourself.

"Cum inside me....fill me up." You told him one day.

He was so lost in his lust for you he didn't think he'd hear you correctly. Giggling, you flipped the position so you were now on top of him, bouncing yourself on his enormous cock.

"I'll give you what your wife won't give you. Knock me up with your babies, fill me to the brim. I wanna carry your kids in me." You ran your hands down your chest and placed them on top of your stomach to get your point further across.

Seonghwa was going wild by this point. He had wanted to become a father for so long but his narcissistic and conceited wife would not budge. Yet here you were offering him the one thing he wanted and he couldn't resist. Sitting up, he began pounding up into you with more intensity, sending you crying his name over and over again as his teeth began to mark your neck.

"Oh I'll make sure to knock you up babygirl. Gonna fuck my kids into you...fuck! You're going to look even more pretty carrying my baby in you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yours and Yunho's relationship was rather.... unconventional to say the least. He ended up becoming your sugar daddy after you had auctioned off your virginity online cause you were a broke college student and you honestly didn't give a damn at that point. But it was you who were in for a surprise when you met him in the hotel room and he just handed you the money without wanting anything in return.

"Just take it and don't give away something so valuable away like that."

You were so stunned by his behavior and it honestly sent some weird feeling inside you.

"But what if I wanna give it away?" You asked before he could open the door to leave. He let out a deep sigh.

"Trust me, you don't." He insisted.

Biting your lip, you took in his height and built. You weren't going to lie and pretend you didn't size him up from the moment you saw him. He probably had a monster cock that could tear you apart and part of you wanted that. Plus he was probably experienced in making love to someone so why not?

"If it's with you I really do..."

He whipped his back at your words, about to scold you but his words got caught in his mouth when you began to strip in front of him before laying down on the bed, legs spread for him and anxiously waiting for him to touch you. He couldn't resist himself. He ended up pining your tiny and virgin body under him, tearing your hymen apart and claiming you as his. He made sure you were in no pain and he had you cumming more than once. You could say it was an amazing first time.

You spent the rest of the night talking, and you ended up spilling about your economic situation. Perhaps it was pity, perhaps he was high on having taking your virginity, or perhaps he truly felt something for you. Either way you agreed to be his sugar baby, and you don't regret it one bit. Not when you get to have his monster cock in you, and he's not complaining either when he gets to stuff himself in you.

"Fuck! You're still so damn tight my little one... just like the first time."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

He tried to ignore the sound of the shower right behind the door he was leaning in. He had to. He shouldn't try to imagine what was going on in there. But as his eyes closed, he couldn't stop picturing your naked body glistening as the water cascaded down your skin. His hand grazed over his erection, wondering if perhaps you were doing something similar.

Before he knew what he was doing, he slowly and quietly opened the door, the hot steam fogging up the glass doors to the shower but he could still make out your beautiful and young figure. He witnessed as your hand played with your clit, dipping inside your folds as tiny gasps and pants escaped your lips.

"Mr. Kang...." Hearing you murmur his name sent any self-control he had out the window.

He began to strip himself out of his clothes, very slowly and in silence so as to not disturb you. Besides you looked so pretty as you touched yourself, trying to get yourself off at the thought of him. Without taking his eyes off you, he slid the glass door and soon stood behind you in the luxurious and spacious shower. You jumped slightly when you felt familiar hands wrap themselves around your waist, fingertips digging into you. You could never forget his touch, you remembered how those hands felt when they once caught you and saved you from a nasty fall.

You knew it wasn't a dream or fantasy when you felt lips pressing open mouth kisses against the side of your neck and traveled down to your shoulders. You moved your hand away to allow the person behind you to take control, his long and slender fingers finally making your darkest fantasies come true as they penetrated inside you, moving back and forth in an effort to bring you into an orgasm.

Kang Yeosang's deep and husky voice breathed into your ear, sending shivers down your body.

"You don't know how long I've lusted after you..."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

With Choi San it wasn't you seducing him. It was letting him seduce you. Ever since he saw you walk in with your short skirt, applying for a part time job at his bookstore, he had been wanting you, craved your body. And honestly... you fed him in his game.

You would wear even shorter skirts, bending down right in front of him so he could get a glimpse at your scantily clad pussy. Or you'd constantly ask him for help in putting away some of the books that went on higher shelves just so he'd put his hands around you, which he'd often keep there longer than needed. And you loved it.

One day he had been frustrated by you past his limit. Throwing away all decorum, he came up behind you as you arranged some books. You let out a gasp when you felt his hands grope your breasts.

"I've been working you too hard my darling... maybe I should let you take a little break?" You became putty in his hands when he used his satoori tone with you.

You didn't stop him when he lifted your shirt up to your neck, nor when he pulled your breasts out from your bra cups. You just moaned with no shame as his fingers tweaked and pinched at your highly sensitive nipples.

"Fuck you have really soft and squishy boobs. It's like they were made for my hands."

Snaking one hand under your skirt, he was surprised to not only find out that you were practically dripping for him but you were not wearing any underwear that day.

"Shit darling, did you came here hoping I would fuck you?"

You threw your head back as he cupped your heat, rubbing at your clit.

"Yes! Please fuck me Mr. Choi! W-wanna get fucked by you." You begged him, pushing your ass behind you to grind against his very obvious bulge.

He was more than satisfied by your answer. Finally getting your consent, he no longer had to hold back. Freeing his cock which was leaking at the tip, he pushed your skirt up to expose your ass cheeks. Giving each of them a few slaps with his cock, he teased you as he rubbed his bulbous tip along your slit.

"Now my little apprentice, I'm going to show you how a real man fucks a little cunt like yours."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Spotting exactly what you were hoping to find for the night, you approached the older male and sat in front of him. Giving you a little glance, he furrowed his eyebrows as he took in your countenance.

"Aren't you a little young to be in a club like this?" He questioned you.

"Trust me, I'm old enough." You boldly took the glass he had in front of him and took a sip before setting it back down.

He let out a tiny chuckle as you practically drowned almost an entire glass of straight vodka. You had guts, he was giving you that.

"Little lady I'm sure there are more young men your age scattered about waiting for a beauty like you to pay attention to them. So why not go find them?" He suggested.

You frowned at him, a tiny huff coming out from your lips.

"Guys my age are all idiots and little babies. Absolutely nothing fun about them."

You scooted closer to him, your hand coming down to rub at one of his ridiculous thick thighs.

"I prefer men who are more older and..... bigger." You made emphasis on that last word.

The male snorted as he let you continue your little game. He was actually pretty amused and flattered at having a young and attractive girl hit on him.

"Little lady as much as I'd love to take you back to my place and fuck you into my sheets, I'm warning you that I'm into more.... risque and exotic pleasures and honestly....I don't think an inexperienced thing like you could handle it."

The man, whom you soon found out was named Song Mingi peeked your interest even more as he confided in you that little detail. And you were more than happy to indulge in extremely naughty kinks. That's how you ended up in his bed, your hands and feet tied to each of the bed posts, blindfolded, gagged, nipple clamps adorning your perky breasts as your older lover for the night was continuing his abuse on your swollen and red pussy, drawing out orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

"Fuck! Holy shit!" He cried out, grunting in an almost animalistic manner as he pumped his cum all over your body.

Removing your blindfold and mouth gag, he looked for any signs of regret but was instead met with your fucked out face that held a tiny grin.

"Older and bigger cocks are indeed the best."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Working as an exotic dancer, you met a lot of customers and got used to having regulars. But no one got under your skin or made you lose your senses like Jung Wooyoung. Usually you didn't give any special treatment to anyone unless it guaranteed more cash in your garter belt. But there was something about him that had you constantly looking over when he was there. Every time he was watching from the crowd, you made sure every wink, every lip bite or swirl of your tongue was directed at him.

You were thinking about giving up, since weeks passed and he didn't seem to make a move on you or on any of the other girls. Perhaps he was dragged there by his friends since he always sat there idly, no expression whatsoever. When you were told someone payed to have a private show with you, the last person you expected to see was none other than Jung Wooyoung himself, sitting on the couch, a glass of wine on his hand. Pulling out a large bill, he smirked at you.

"One hundred dollars if you take off that top."

His request had your legs wobbling. Since it was a rather fancy and elegant strip club, none of you ever actually stripped completely bare, only staying in scanty lingerie. But honestly, you didn't hesitate and let the top fall to the floor. You loved the way Wooyoung was eyeing your chest, tongue poking out to wet his lip. Reaching into his pocket once more, this time he produced even more bills and layed them on the table.

"500 dollars if you remove that lace thong."

Holy crap, you thought to yourself. That was a lot of money that you weren't going to refuse. And besides, you were already wet for the older man that you would suck him off right then and there if he asked you to, with absolutely no payment. This time his hand began to rub at his crotch. Unzipping his pants, he took his long length out which had your mouth watering and staring for so long that you didn't notice the even larger stash of cash he had taken out of his jacket which layed beside him.

"One thousand dollars if you hop your pretty ass over here and bounce yourself on my cock."

Not needing to be told twice, you practically plunged yourself down on him, not caring to take your time as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. The man underneath you was enjoying himself as well, the visual of your ass clapping against his hips driving him insane.

"Fuck! Yes! Just like that- oh god!"

You let out a yelp when his hand came down to slap your cheeks rather harshly, hips taking control as he rammed his cock into you. Through raspy grunts and growls, he made his final proposition to you:

"Your own place, monthly allowance and anything else you want if you leave this place and become my own personal fuck toy."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Working as the personal assistant for your father's CEO friend was not easy. Not because Choi Jongho was difficult, scary and begrudgingly agreed to have his friend's daughter work for him when she had no experience, but because the man was hot. You had the hots for your dad's friend and knowing you would have to be by his side for 8-10 hours on the daily both thrilled and terrified you.

"Can't you even work a simple printer? Seriously? How stupid could you possibly be?"

You honestly didn't mind his constant insults and degradation. In fact...that's exactly what you wanted, even more if he did it in front of others. Truth was, you did know how to work a printer and do other office related small tasks. You just chose not to just to have him yell and scream at you. His anger further fueled your sexual desires for him.

Eventually he ended up finding out what your little plan was when he chanced upon you sending a fax for someone, something he had always refrained from teaching you cause he thought you'd be too stupid to do.

"Why you cunning little vixen." He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he saw you, angry that a little brat like you was getting under his skin just to get a reaction out of him. He felt his palm start to tremble with an urge to bend you over and spank you into place.

Which he did end up doing, among other things in an effort to get you to behave or straighten up. But it never fully worked since you kept testing his patience, and he truly didn't mind. He liked your little game and he started to look forward to having his little vixen misbehave just to put her back in her place. And you lived for having him punish and degrade you.

"Look at you. You look like a common whore, letting me fuck her little hole as much as I want to."

You whimpered as his hand pulled your hair, making you lift your head and watch from the mirror as he fucked you from behind against his dresser.

"Maybe I should take a picture and send it to your dad. Let him know that his precious daughter is nothing more than a slut that likes getting her tight little hole fucked by his best friend."

You shook at his words, tears steaming down your face from the overstimulation he was putting you through. You absolutely loved it. Loved having him remind you of how wrong and sinful it was. Pressing your back against his chest, he wrapped an arm around your throat as he pounded his cock into you like the beast he was.

"But no... I won't do that. This will be our little secret."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[otto-von-stirlitz]

thank you @shinystickers​ for saying that. ideologically i agree on destigmatization of drugs and harm and risk reduction, practically: foraging psylocibe shrooms IS a harm/risk, especially that they can grow close to gallerina shrooms that are also little brown mushrooms and toxic. there are reasons why psylocibe are so commonly cultivated by users and not foraged.

There are two different types of mushroom ID groups:

Groups that ban any mention, allusion, or euphemism for any variety of mushroom that will give you any druglike effects at all, ever, because That's Illegal.

Groups that are like, hey, good job finding that psilocybe cubensis, dude, enjoy your trip!

And to be perfectly honest, I prefer the second kind of group, not because I'm out hunting for shrooms, but because the people in the first kind of group will flat-out refuse to identify a mushroom if they think it's an Unethical Mushroom, which feels like a great way to encourage someone to just eat something and find out what it does the hard way.

Anyway destigmatize drug use and promote safe consumption sites.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[47crayons]

so, you want to write a musician?

about me: i play viola and have experience in symphony orchestras, string orchestras, string quartets (+ a few other small ensembles), and solo performances. i've done some light composition, and have friends/family who play other instruments. while my musical history is extensive, by no means do i know everything or speak for everyone.

this guide will focus on classical music/how to portray classical musicians and things that aren't as easily researched.

quick overview of instruments in a typical symphony orchestra

upper strings (violin, viola), lower strings (cello, (double) bass; i've seen viola included here too, but it's more commonly classified as upper strings)

strings also technically includes harp and piano

woodwinds (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon)

depending on instrumentation, they may also have piccolo, english horn, bass clarinet, contrabassoon

saxophones are not traditionally in symphony orchestras due to it being a relative newer instrument! but this is changing because more contemporary composes are including sax parts

brass (trumpet, trombone, bass trombone, tuba, euphonium)

percussion (depends heavily on instrumentation, but common instruments are bass drum, timpani, snare, crash cymbal, xylophone, marimba)

some things you should research

where the hands are supposed to go!! i'd recommend you look at pictures of professionals in orchestra settings (ny phil, cso, berlin phil are all top tier). some musicians *coughs at yoyo ma* have less than perfect posture when they're performing solos (for the same reasons famous authors can break "rules")

necessary equipment including reeds, rockstops, different kinds of sticks/mallets, rosin, mouth pieces for whatever instrument you're writing

common misconceptions

loose/photocopied sheet music is not aesthetic—it's annoying and impossible to keep organized. folders and binders are fairly common especially when managing multiple ensembles.

original copies are often expensive and required to perform a piece (legally) for profit or otherwise (though i know a few people who have bent this rule)

not all performers are good composers (i myself have very little formal music theory training), but many composers have performance histories.

not all musicians can sing.

perfect pitch is both a blessing and a curse. notes can be slightly lower/higher but in tune with the context of the piece, which drives people with perfect pitch insane.

having perfect pitch does not guarantee someone will be a prodigy, and people don't need perfect pitch to be a talented musician.

drama in ensembles does exist, but it rarely gets in the way of rehearsal. same thing goes for good friends: if your characters have even a shred of common sense, they aren't going to be talking/messing around during rehearsal.

instruments (especially good ones) are extremely expensive. people very rarely store instruments on the wall or other displays for fear of falling.

instruments are very picky and require tuning every time. every time! it doesn't take long anyway. temperature and humidity can and will make instruments go out of tune or damage your instrument if not properly stored.

some people listen exclusively to classical music, but in my experience, that's definitely not the majority

like with anything, most musicians struggle with self doubt at one point or another.

musician culture

getting excited when we hear a piece we recognize

getting frustrated because we can't remember the name of the piece (after all, no lyrics to search)

being horrified when a non-musician actor is playing a musician. yes, we notice. yes, it's obvious.

if people are joking, it's likely to be about: violas (a quick search for "viola jokes" will tell you all you need to know) or trumpets (a reputation for being overly loud, playing and not)

putting stickers (places they toured, their orchestra, or just purely decorative) on cases is common, but not for everyone. same goes for pictures (of family, past concerts, or anything) on the inside.

scrambling for a pencil when the conductor says to mark something. pencils are a musicians best friend :D

asking (and forgetting) how to split double stops/two parts at the same time. sometimes one stand partner will play the top while the other plays the bottom, and sometimes this is split stand by stand.

this has NEVER resulted in a sexual top/bottom joke. please just. don't. also no g string jokes. it's just unrealistic.

awaiting the obligatory "it's one week before our concert, and you sound like this?!" lecture

not talking about music 100% of the time!!! they have lives outside of music (most of them, at least /j). especially to close friends, music is probably not going to be a conversation topic unless something is out of the ordinary (high stress, something funny from rehearsal, etc.)

bragging/talking about how often they practice is generally not welcomed. great, but other people don't need to hear it!

stages are hot and bright. there's no way a performer can see someone in the audience with the possible exception of the first row.

practicing

three words for you: love. hate. relationship.

slow practice (like really slow lots of people recommend half speed; good for focusing on the right notes, tone, phrasing, smooth transitions)

metronome practice (while playing, it's not annoying at all! it's helpful and requires a lot of focus; when NOT playing, it's annoying and loud because it needs to be heard over the playing)

drone practice (having a machine/website/another person play one note in the background; good for tuning and scales)

and too many more for me to detail

auditions

ensembles may have entrance auditions to determine who gets in and seating auditions to determine placement within the section.

adrenaline does not make us play better; it just makes us make mistakes. and then thinking about those mistakes causes more mistakes.

some instruments, especially those with less repertoire, have common excerpts that come up frequently (i can think of one in particular that i've played for three separate auditions this year).

stopping/starting over is not recommended ever, but if you do, it has to be 10x better. most audition judges aren't looking for perfection!! they want to see how your character can keep going after messing up.

sight reading (being given new music, having ~30 seconds to look at it, being asked to play) is never perfect. i don't care how talented your character is; if they think they nailed it, they aren't experienced enough to see all the phrasing/dynamics that they didn't incorporate. no one gets sight reading perfect!!!

perhaps most importantly, musicians are not all the same! they enjoy it for a number of different reasons and have diverse and interesting lives outside of music!!! more information about specific instrument groups under the cut :)

strings

callouses. with the exception of pianists, most string players (and especially professional ones) have callouses where they press down/pluck the strings. i also have one on my right thumb where i hold my bow. cellists and bassists might have them on their left thumb from playing higher notes in thumb position.

hickeys are also fairly common, though only some people get them. upper strings will get these by under their left jaw. cellists may have one from the wooden body resting on their sternum. some people (including hilary hahn and many many others) use a cloth for comfort and to prevent hickeys.

few people want a hickey, but it might suit a character who is constantly trying to prove themselves.

our fingers do not "glide" anywhere. you can get cuts/"string-burns" from pressing down too hard when shifting. cuts like those are the only reason someone's fingers will bleed, and it's rarer than you think.

upper strings are more prone to back/neck problems from the way they hold their instruments on one side. see also: shoulder pain.

finger cramps happen. they aren't too common, but most if not all strings have experienced at least one.

pianos require tuning every few years or else the chords will be out of tune. few pianists can tune their own instrument because of how complicated it is.

piano parts/accompaniments will have so. many. pages. a page turner may sit on the right of the pianist to turn the page.

woodwinds & brass

spit. so much spit. some instruments clean afterwards with a cloth; others have a spit valve which is as gross as it sounds.

proper embouchure, or how a musician uses the muscles in their face/lips, is tiring, and people actually get strong cheek muscles. they can also easily turn red, but it varies based on a person's facial complexion. see also: good lung capacity.

flute and piccolo are not dainty. piccolo requires as much air as a tuba. an old teacher of mine almost passed out playing piccolo when she was in college.

flutes and piccolos are high, but often not shrill depending on the level of the ensemble.

reeds last a few weeks (less if your character plays for hours a day) and can be expensive to buy.

keys and valves can get sticky especially on older instruments which can result in the wrong note or bad tone.

saxes, clarinets, flutes are more likely to "honk" on low notes.

oboes are more likely to feel "wispy" on high notes.

articulation comes from the tongue, especially for brass instruments, and conductors may ask for "tah" "pah" or "wah" sounds depending on the style of the piece.

percussion

callouses from the friction between hands and sticks/mallets.

there are so many types of sticks and mallets!!! make sure to take a look at what materials are good for what instruments/sounds.

cymbals, triangle, and bass drum are not easy to play, even though they look simple.

percussionists with the exception of timpani may play more than one instrument during a piece, and they're constantly moving around in the back during their rests.

percussion instruments are too expensive for most people to have everything they ever play. practice pads are very common in place of these instruments.

ability to play one instrument doesn't translate to different instruments. for example, many percussionists don't have experience playing set/drum set.

some of the things detailed here are heavily glossed over, so if you have any questions, i'd always be happy to talk about it with you; i may not have answers, but i will try to help as best i can!!!

since you read this far, have my favorite viola joke.

what's the difference between a violist and a large pizza?

a large pizza can feed a family of four :)

tagging some people who showed interest: @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @kg-willie @owilder

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 8)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

warnings: smut (semi-public sex), possessiveness (some sexual, some not), jealousy, some fluff and some angst, also some violence (including a very small amount against the reader, proceed with caution), mentions of infidelity in a previous relationship

a/n: oh y’all thought it was gonna be smooth sailing from here on out? lol

You didn’t want to abandon Bucky to do carpetside interviews, but he refused to get anywhere near a hot mic so you let him go while you walked over to a reporter you recognized; she’d been nice before, probably would be again this time, so you were a little relieved to see her tonight.

She introduced you to the camera and you were slightly spaced out until she turned to you and got your attention again.  “So, you’ve been making a lot of headlines lately for your new relationship— what’s the scoop?  How’s it going?” she asked playfully, pushing the microphone into your face.

“Uh, great,” you breamed, “he’s my date tonight and he seems to have disappeared to…” you turned around to look for him.  “Oh, he’s talking to... is that... Laurence Fishburne?”

“James, is that his name?” she prompted, making you focus your attention back on the interview.

“Um, yeah,” you nodded, the name sounding a bit foreign, “legally, but he goes mostly by his nickname Bucky.”

“Aw, that’s cute,” she smiled.  “He’s, uh…” her eyes widened a bit and you laughed.

“Yeah, he is,” you smirked.  “I assume by that facial expression you mean ‘crazy hot.’”

“I mean, in the politest way possible… yeah,” she giggled.

“Yeah, no, don’t pretend not to notice for my sake, cause, yeah, it’s… apparent.”

“Apparently he was your driver first?” she pressed.

“Yes!” you beamed, and then heard the way it sounded and backpedaled slightly.  “I promise that’s not why I hired him.  I actually didn’t meet him before he was on my team, but, I mean, I wasn’t mad to have some eye candy in the front seat.”

“Eye candy, huh?”

“But he’s so much more than that, that’s the thing,” you explained.  “We became good friends first, because he’s so smart and funny and kind and… I mean, I know he looks tough, and he is, but he’s really very sensitive underneath the slightly intimidating exterior.”

“Hard shell, soft center, sweet— he really does sound like candy!”

“Indeed,” you nodded.  “Gotta run but it was nice to chat!”

You dashed over to Bucky and clung onto his arm.  “Oh, hey, we were just talking about you,” he beamed.

“Loved you in After Midnight,” Mr. Fishburne smiled and even you were totally starstruck.

“Oh, wow, thanks, I loved you in… everything…” you trailed off, internally scolding yourself for the vague and useless compliment.  He was about to respond but was pulled away by some member of his team, giving you and Bucky a quick wave as he began a carpet-side interview.

“That was Laurence Fishburne, wasn’t it.” Bucky mumbled to you in a stunned monotone.  

“Yes, what were you doing talking to him?” you asked, amazed at his bravery to approach such a huge star.

“He came up to me, to congratulate me on… on dating you, I guess…”

“Or he mixed you up with Brad Pitt,” you shrugged.

“Yeah, if Brad Pitt lost all his money, spent a decade in the desert, went loco and buzzed all his hair off,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh come on, you look great,” you soothed him, straightening his tie.  “Wanna go take some pictures?”

“I’m a little scared,” he admitted with a shy smile.

“It’s easy, just give them that sexy brooding look you do so well.”

Bucky smirked pridefully.  “You think so?”

“Totally.  You’re a natural,” you assured.

You tugged his arm and guided him to the carpet, letting him lead the way (or look like he was leading the way) as you found a clear spot and noticed how the cameras instantly flashed faster and brighter.  Photographers called your name to get your attention, and you waved and smiled and pulled Bucky closer.  The feeling of his arm around your waist was warm and comforting, and you hoped holding you had the same effect for him.

“Where are you looking?” you asked.

“At you,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you giggled, “you’re supposed to look at the cameras!”

“I honestly can’t, it’s blinding,” he frowned.

“Here,” you sighed, pointing out into the darkness just above the sea of flashing lights.  “Look out there.”

“I can’t see anything!”

“I know, but, look as if there was something there to look at, trust me, it helps.”

You adjusted slightly a few times, turning a little to show off the low back of your dress.  You almost gasped when Bucky held your face and kissed you suddenly, but you were happy to melt into it even as you heard the cameras flash even more aggressively, some whoops and hollers coming from the crowd on and off the carpet.

He pulled back and you wanted to chase him for more but you realized it wasn’t the right time.  

“Let’s go inside,” you offered, guiding him the rest of the way down the carpet— mainly because you were afraid you’d end up jumping his bones right here in front of everyone.

He nodded and followed close by, arm resting on your shoulder the whole time, and just as you saw one of your friends and thought you might want to go over and introduce her to Bucky, you saw who she was talking to.

Sam.  

Seeing him always made your heart stop.  At first, it was because you were starstruck by him, in awe of his talent, amazed that you were going to be working with someone you admired so much.  Then it was because you had fallen for him and he had gladly swept you off your feet, bringing you into a whirlwind romance that at the time had felt like the only thing that mattered.  But since the break-up, and now, it was something else.  Fear wasn’t the word, it’s not like you were afraid of him in a literal sense, but there was this anxiety, this tenseness to seeing him.  It always brought back memories— the best and the worst, all at once.  Nights laughing together, sharing secrets, stealing glances and touches and kisses; nights spent alone staring at a phone that never rang.  Limbs tangled together between the sheets, that warm brown skin encompassing and surrounding yours; laying side by side in a bed that isn’t empty but is still plenty cold, seeing the way he angles his phone away from you and wishing you had the strength to just leave because you already knew what he was doing.  The first time you said ‘I love you.’  The first time he said ‘it won’t happen again.’

“You alright?” Bucky asked, tearing you from your thoughts.  You looked away and met Bucky’s gaze, hoping he either hadn’t seen your ex or at least hadn’t recognized him.  

“Yeah, I’m great,” you answered quickly, “let’s go get some drinks maybe?  And then I need to show you off to some people.”

“Show me off?” he scoffed.

“Yeah, why did you think I brought you here, really?” you winked.

“Hey, if we’re showing each other off, does that mean you’ll come to my next high school reunion?”

//

You’d been antsy ever since the two of you had come inside; it was obvious from the way you were clinging so much closer to him, and yet it was clear that your mind was a million miles away.

“Hey, it’s starting to wrap up, wanna head out soon?” you asked, trying to act casual, but he saw the way your eyes were darting up to where Sam Wilson was mingling and he knew it wasn’t about getting home early.  Did you really think he wouldn’t notice that you’d seen him?

“Whatever you wanna do,” he shrugged.

“Okay, could you bring the car around for me then?  And I’ll meet you outside?” you offered.  “I should say hi and bye to a few people.”

“Sure,” he agreed, starting to walk away after giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

And he really did try to do what he said he was going to, but the further away he walked, the more he glanced back to watch you walk across the room, the harder it was to just let it go.  He knew you were going to talk to him, and before he really even decided to do anything about it he found himself circling back around the room, following you.  

He thought he’d lost you when he turned a corner and you were gone, but then he heard voices from a doorway and cracked it open slightly to see you inside with a few other people, nobody he recognized although one of them he’d definitely seen in something before.

He sighed with relief, about to turn and go get the car like he said he would, but then Sam Wilson just had to magically materialize out of thin air as he stepped up behind you and tapped your shoulder.

“Sam!” you blurted out, spinning to face him with wide eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, acting all suave and shit, making Bucky’s blood boil.  “You look great.”

“Oh, thanks,” you mumbled, “you too.”

“You’ve been all over the internet lately, making quite the splash,” he recalled with a contemplative nod.  “You and this new boytoy you’ve got.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is boyfriend,” you corrected sternly.  

“Honey,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes.  Bucky couldn’t decide if it was worse to hear him call you a pet name in earnest or with the derogatory tone that he currently had.  “Everybody knows you go through these guys like potato chips.  Especially when they’re not famous— how many PAs did you hook up with on your last set, huh?”

“I don’t roll like that anymore,” you denied.

“That’s not what Jake Friedman says,” Sam smirked.  It actually took Bucky a moment to remember that that was the guy you’d… entertained in the backseat of your car, or maybe it was more that he had entertained you; you seemed to tense up when Sam mentioned him, as did Bucky.  “I mean, sure, he’s not crew, but he’s not famous the way you are.  The way we are.  And neither is your new guy.  He doesn’t ‘get it’, does he?  He doesn’t get what it’s like.  Has he already started freaking out about all the hate online?”

Bucky regretted that he’d ever said anything about that; if he’d known it would come around to prove Sam Wilson right about something, he wouldn’t have done it.  “No,” you lied.

“Well, he will,” Sam assured you, stepping a little closer to you and letting his fingers languidly brush over your arm.  “I made a mistake before, letting you go.”

“Damn right,” you hissed as you pulled away from him.

“But I realized that, and now I’m wondering why we aren’t giving the people what they want.”

“That’s what I never understood about you,” you frowned.  “It’s always about other people with you.  It’s never about you, and it was never about me.”

“But it is about you,” he explained, “and me: us.  You’re forgetting how good we were together.”

You shook your head.  “I was single for years and you never called.  Now you’re all over me with all these regrets about ending it?  Get a grip, Sam.  This is about you wanting what you can’t have.”

“Can’t have?” he repeated incredulously.  “Baby,” he purred— and Bucky decided it was definitely worse to hear him call you that in earnest.  “You know you’re always gonna be mine.”

As you started to shiver, Sam’s arms slipping around your back and grabbing your waist, Bucky felt like he had lost control of his body.  He was watching himself from far away as he stormed across the room, nearly knocking a few people over on the way, and shoved Sam off of you and onto the ground.

“Bucky!” you yelped.  “Bucky, stop!”

“You’d better watch your hands, Wilson, before they get somewhere they’re not supposed to be,” Bucky growled, ignoring you completely even as you helplessly tugged at his suit.  

“Jesus,” Sam spat, “the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What are you doing?” you asked Bucky, irate and confused as you stared up at him with a furrowed brow.  He grabbed your hand and guided you out of the room and down the hall, barely managing to drag you into a random bathroom before he started tearing at your dress, leaving rough bites and kisses down your neck as you gasped and moaned softly.  

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, “all mine.  Did you forget?”

“No,” you sighed, “I could never…”

“That’s not what it looked like,” he sneered, hiking up your long skirt to run his fingers over your skin and expose the delicate, lacy panties you were wearing. 

“Bucky, please,” you sighed, rubbing your hips up against his leg, riding his thigh shamelessly.

“What’s got you so worked up, baby?  Is it me, or him?” he asked darkly.

“You, baby, just you, nobody else— I’m yours,” you assured him feverishly, “I’m all yours, please, I need you.”

“Yeah?” he breathed, fumbling with his belt and fly as he pulled his growing cock from his suit pants.  “You need it that bad?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “fuck me.”

He pulled your underwear aside and quickly shoved into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls stretching to welcome him.  “Fuck, angel, so tight,” he sighed, knowing how much little praises drove you crazy.

“Bucky,” you sighed, “oh my god… harder, please— n-need you deeper…”

His hips moved back only to slam back against yours, making you whimper; he smiled when he felt your leg wrap around his waist and try to hold him inside, but he couldn’t slow down now, not when he needed this so bad.

He sucked on your neck as he kept thrusting into you, your wetness coating his cock so thoroughly that he slid right home every time.  It was clear that he was hitting your g-spot from how you moaned with each thrust, your spongy channel pulsing and tightening in rhythmic patterns.

Overcome with the need to assert his, for lack of a better word, ownership over you, he found himself reaching up to hold your throat— not quite in the way to choke you, just to remind you that he could, if he wanted to.

“Did he ever make you come like this?” he asked with a gravelly whisper, lips right against your ear as he tightened his hand around your neck slightly.

“No,” you shook your head, “nobody has.”

“Nobody’s ever loved you this good but me, is that it?  Nobody else has ever fucked you like this?”

“Just you, Bucky, please don’t stop— I’m so close…”

“Do you think they can hear you out in the hallway?  Say my name when you come, princess, just in case they can— I want them to know who’s making you feel this good.”

“Bucky,” you whined, chanting it over and over with a few ‘yes’s and ‘fuck’s interspersed occasionally.  He thrusted faster and harder as he felt his own orgasm building; he needed to come inside you and claim you again, mark you as his one more time, and the flexing of your walls was only egging him on.

“I know you’re close, baby, just let go,” he whispered against your ear, “come for me, just like that, you’re doing so good— fuck, so good for me…”

You whimpered and clutched at his shoulders, a gush of wetness and a final, strong tightening of your inner muscles signaling that you’d reached your peak.  He couldn’t hold back any longer when he saw (and felt) that, groaning as he began to release thick streams of come into you.

The absolute second your afterglow began to fade, you pushed him off of you and grimaced as you adjusted your panties and dress.  "The fuck is wrong with you?"

"Wh— what?" he stammered, breathless and confused.  "What did I do?  Was I not supposed to come inside?"

You gaped at him in shock.  "Do you really not realize what you did?  Bucky, you assaulted my ex-boyfriend."

"I— he'll be fine," he dismissed, "he was putting his hands on you, what was I supposed to do, just let him do it?"

"You were supposed to let me handle it," you hissed.  "You were supposed to be pulling the car around and not spying on me!"

"Spying?!  I was protecting you."

"You shoved him hard enough to knock him over, Bucky, that's not okay."

"Hold on," he shook his head in disbelief, "so you're mad at me, when we just had sex?!  Why didn't you say something before?"

"Just cause it's hot doesn't mean it's okay," you explained, a little embarrassed.

"Tell me something," he frowned, "what is this—" he motioned to the space between the two of you— "to you?  Cause it kinda seems like I think we're boyfriend and girlfriend, and you think—"

"What?  What do I think?" you challenged.  "Go ahead, tell me."

"You think it's just a sex thing."

"Oh my god," you rolled your eyes.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you get off on me dealing with your ex, and then tell me it's this big terrible thing?"

A sick idea clawed its way out of the back of Bucky's mind: was Sam right about her?  Was Sam right about us?

You crossed your arms and huffed, but didn't respond.

"Was everything that just happened just a fuckin' kink for you or something?  Cause I meant every goddamn word," he growled.

You sighed, like you weren't taking it seriously— like you weren't taking him seriously.  His fist tightened at his side involuntarily.  He'd never felt so used, so ignored; or, at least, he never expected it from you.  "We'll talk about this later," you dismissed quickly.  "Let's just go back there and put on a happy face, okay?"

"Oh, so you can let another guy feel you up?  Sounds like a fucking blast," he hissed.

"Fuck you," you snarled as you pushed him aside to leave the bathroom.

He didn't remember grabbing you, he didn't remember twisting your arm as he pulled you back.  He didn't remember you crying out, trying to wrench yourself away, clawing at his grip on you.  All he remembered was you looking up at him with watery eyes, expression twisted in fear.

"Bucky, you're hurting me," you whimpered weakly, and only then did he notice his metal hand was holding your wrist.  When he let go, he already saw a mark forming in the shape of his hand as you grabbed your freed wrist to rub the damaged flesh.

"I'm sorry—" he began to whisper, but you were already gone.

[beomglocks]

mr. choi ; c.sb

summary : your new neighbor comes over to introduce himself.

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader

warnings & other : slight SMUT, dont read if youre uncomfortable with age gaps, sexual tension, noninnocent (?) touching, there’s like one curse, happy valentines day

w/c : 1.7k

after hours of locking yourself in your bedroom you finally decide to come out and grab a snack from the kitchen. you vaguely remember the sound of the doorbell being rung and distinct chatter coming from the living room following but you frankly weren't interested in whoever had arrived.

by now though, the chatter had died down to simple conversation and the occasional obnoxious laugh from your mom specifically. you stretch, walking out of your bedroom and completely forgetting that you had a guest.

you barely even walk past the living room when you see a man sitting on the love seat with a simple black tee shirt and slacks on, his jacket draped over the couch's back. his legs are spread open, strawberry hair messy, and head leaning against his veiny hand, listening to your mom drone on about something your older sibling did in their youth.

"oh," you say out loud. suddenly all eyes are on you and you can't help but shrink at the mans lingering gaze on your body. you're suddenly self conscious about the fact that you're wearing booty shorts and a white shirt that was a bit more on the translucent side, that and the fact that you were wearing no bra.

"oh mr. choi, this is my daughter y/n!"

he doesn't answer right away, subtly dragging his eyes down your body as if undressing you while you stand awkwardly at the entrance of the living room. "hello y/n," he says simply, staring back into your eyes.

your body gets hot and you feel a familiar wetness start to accumulate just above your thighs. the way he said your name just felt so right. his voice seemed gravelly as if he'd been yelling all day and just now had a chance to rest his voice with quiet conversation.

you completely forget your snack already finding something even more satisfying right in front of you.

you sit on the accent chair across from him, eyeing him down just as he did you. he smirks, amused by how completely unsubtle your arousal is.

"mr. choi just moved to our neighborhood and i thought it would be a good idea to introduce ourselves as neighbors," your mom explains. you nod, smiling at him.

"choi soobin," he starts. "i worked at a company in another city but was promoted so i had to move here for the new position. the neighborhood is nice, the people too," he says looking at you. you give him a bright smile, "im glad you like it."

soobin leans back in the chair, eyeing you once more, specifically choosing to linger his gaze on your chest. "so soobin-" his deep chuckle cuts you off and you look at him expectantly.

"im sorry... it's just that since i work at a company im used to people calling me mr. choi or... sir," he says, narrowing his eyes at you. "wow you must be at a high position!" your mom excitedly gapes and you have to wonder what her real intentions were when inviting soobin over.

"im quite respected," he says simply, still looking at you as if he's waiting for something. you give him a coy smile, deciding to tease him a little, "well sir, that's an interesting take away."

he smirks, letting out what seems to be a satisfied sigh. he turns to your mom, "is it alright if i have a glass of wine or something? my throat is a little dry from barking out orders all day."

your mom obligates to his request, attracted to the idea that this man was a hardworking businessman. you knew your mom would go find the most aged wine for him because she liked to show out for guests. especially guests that looked as fine as soobin. you also knew it would take her a while to find said wine, keeping it locked away for special occasions.

"y/n keep our guest company," she told you. you happily accepted that offer. yeah, you’ll keep him company alright.

now that you were alone with soobin you wasted no time in playing into his apparent attraction towards you. you open your legs slightly to lean forward on your hands which were situated between them. you saw his eyes flit down to your breast which were squished together due to your actions.

"so sir," you say innocently as if you aren't giving him a little show. "do you have a wife or children?" he shifts in his seat a bit, widening his legs in the process. you swear you can see a slight bulge in his pants if you squint. oh, so he's big.

he laughs at your question, "i don't have a wife, im divorced and yes i do have a son." your eyes widen only slightly. frankly, the thought of him having a son doesn't bother you in the slightest. you decide to ask him how old his son is for conversation purposes.

he hums lowly, "he's 18....how old are you?" you're surprised your mom hadn't told him your age. she probably thought it wasn't information she deemed was necessary for him to know.

"im legal," you say with a smile. he smiles at that and you swear your pussy twitches. he's so attractive and he's barely done a thing! you stare at his crotch while his leg bounces and you can only shamelessly imagine yourself bouncing on his cock.

you wonder how big is. he looks tall as hell so that gives you some ideas. his legs look to take up almost half his body. god, what would it look like grabbing onto his thighs as he fucks himself into your mouth? you can imagine the tears running down your face and runny nose as you look up at him and he looks down at you with the exact same expression he holds right n-

"that's good to know," his voice cuts through your dirty thoughts. he doesn't even address how you were blatantly staring at his crotch because at this point he doesn't even care. he knows you want him but he'll wait for you to say it. even if you don’t say it today, he knows you’ll say it eventually.

you move your hands and squeeze your legs together. you can already feel yourself dripping at just the thought of this man across from you. he's so close yet so far and the sexual tension is killing you.

you get up from your spot, casually walking up to where he sits. he stares at you curiously wondering what you plan to do. you choose to sit right next to him on the couch. just close enough that if your mom walked through at any moment you could recoil and it wouldn't look suspicious at all.

you don't say a word and you place your hand lightly on his knee, slowly moving it up to his upper thigh. "what are you doing babygirl?"

babygirl? fuck. just the pet name coming from his mouth alone has your breath going shaky. you rub your thighs together in anticipation. "nothing sir," you smile.

his hand is suddenly placed atop of yours and he drags it just above his growing erection. "look at what you're doing baby," he moves his head close your ear.

"you came down here dressed like a little slut, i bet you wanted the attention right?" he asks. "as soon as you saw me you probably couldn't wait to have me fuck the shit out you."

the words he mumbles in your ear have you unconsciously palming his dick through his slacks. "sir.." you whimper. he hums, holding back a moan as you continue palming him at your own accord. his hand is now at your upper thighs slowly inching up.

he placed two of his cold fingers pressing onto your pussy through your shorts. "you're so wet that i can feel it through your shorts. did i do this?" he chuckles, now rubbing up and down slowly. you nod, looking up at him through your lashes. "yes it was all you, sir. all you."

he suddenly pulls away completely from you with a light smile. he also removes your hand from him and leans forward on his knees, his upper body effectively covering his boner. you're confused about his actions and kind of annoyed until you hear your mom call from the hallway, "mr. choi i hope you like this flavor, it's one of my finest!"

"im sure anything you have tastes delicious!" he answers, glancing at you. you shy away from his eyes as your mom walks into the kitchen. since the kitchen is too close to the living room to do anything he whispers to you, "shy now?" he laughs a little bit. "you're too cute y/n."

you wish he'd called you a cute petname right then but you'll take what you can get. he places his hand on your knee and you shiver, remembering his fingers on you just seconds ago.

he removes them once your mom walks into the living room with two glasses of wine, one for him and one for her. they talk for a little while more, and you occasionally chime in but really you're too distracted by soobin. the heat he's radiating is too much to handle plus you're still sitting close enough to see that he's still hard.

it gets late and so the night ends for you three. "my son is probably wondering where i am by now, i should go," he says standing up. your mom agrees and you escort him to the front door while she takes the glasses back to the kitchen.

soobin notices your disappointment at not having finished what you both started on the couch earlier but he leans down to whisper in your ear. his voice sends shivers through your whole body and his hot breath tickles your neck and ear. "don't look so dejected babygirl, this isn't the last time we'll see each other." he kisses your cheek as he ascends back up when your mom meets you both at the door.

"say hello to your son for me! oh and next time bring him over so he can meet y/n," your mom suggests just as he walks out the door. he turns around to look at you both and you can tell he isn't too fond of that idea but he still answers with a polite smile.

"maybe! well i had a nice time maam, i'll be seeing you two around," and with that, he leaves and you simply cannot wait for the next time you'll see mr. choi.

[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Nineteen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: another chapter where the girls are clowns and cassian worships nesta's every breath 🙄 i promise some variety is headed your way soon

***

Gwyn adamantly refuses to accept any gifts for her birthday, much to Emerie’s irritation and Nesta’s relief. No amount of love for her friends can make Nesta enjoy the turmoil of hunting for the perfect gift, and she happily shows up at Gwyn’s apartment that night with nothing save for an overnight bag.

Gwyn easily has the nicest home out of all three of the girls, and it makes Nesta feel oddly proud to have a financially stable friend. Nesta herself has been flacking on her legal consultant duties to Night Court Inc., choosing to make do with the money she’s already earned while focusing on school.

Once they’ve all changed into sleep clothes and are settled around the living room coffee table with a cupcake and a glass of wine each, Gwyn pulls out a brightly colored bracelet-making kit with a sheepish grin. “I found this while I was looking through my childhood things,” she says, opening the kit. “You guys aren’t too grown for it, are you?”

“Depends,” Emerie hums, leaning over to get a closer look. “Is it Rainbow Loom?”

She gets her answer when Gwyn dumps out bundles of multicolored string instead of rubber bands onto the table. Looking disappointed, Emerie plucks up a handful of string. “Fine, I guess I can make do.”

Nesta licks cream cheese frosting off her thumb. “How do you make them? The bracelets?”

She’s met with two dumbfounded stares. “Have you never been to a thirteen year old’s slumber party?” Gwyn says.

“...No?”

When Gwyn and Emerie keep staring, Nesta feels the need to add, “I’ve never been to a sleepover. This is my first.” She was never one to be invited to sleepovers or social gatherings; even when she made acquaintances in middle and high school, they were just that—acquaintances.

“That’s… actually kind of sad,” Emerie says. Gwyn elbows her hard, making her yelp.

“I never thought of it that way,” Nesta says, shrugging. Though maybe it’s because a lot of things about her childhood were sad; it isn’t like she kept count of it all.

“Well, you can learn how to make bracelets now,” Gwyn states, taking out a little plastic baggie and emptying it out onto the table. Small silver charms scatter everywhere. “Everyone gets three colors and one charm.”

Nesta leans forward, making out the different charms. She spies one in the shape of a book, and another in the shape of a dove, and one in the shape of a music note. She snatches up the eighth note before anyone else can. Gwyn takes the book for herself, and Emerie considers the selection of charms before picking a dagger-shaped one. They prepare their string next.

“Now, we can either braid them or knot them.” Gwyn demonstrates how to do it either way, Nesta watching closely before imitating her. She braids the strings of her bracelet as best she can, her cheeks turning red with frustration whenever she spies one of the other girls’ perfect knots. Her half-eaten cupcake is forgotten as she tries to get her bracelet to stay together.

At one point she just has to accept the shoddy work she’s done and tie the bracelet off. She checks to see if it fits on her wrist.

“Now everyone give their bracelet to the person on their left,” Gwyn declares.

Nesta clutches her sloppily-made bracelet to her chest as Emerie responds, “What?”

“So we can wear each other’s bracelets,” Gwyn explains. “And carry around a part of each other all the time.”

“If I had known we were gonna be sentimental, I wouldn’t have picked the cute charm,” Emerie grumbles. Nesta agrees, but Gwyn just clicks her tongue and starts switching bracelets around. In the end, Nesta has Emerie’s dagger bracelet, Gwyn has Nesta’s music note bracelet, and Emerie has Gwyn’s book charm.

Nesta wiggles her bracelet on and turns her wrist over in the light. “That was fun,” she decides. “What happens next at a sleepover?”

“Next,” Gwyn says, “we exchange our most embarrassing secrets with each other, and then we do each other’s hair.”

Emerie shakes her head. “Okay, now I’m really too old for this. Anyone want to watch a movie?”

Gwyn nudges Emerie. “I’m the old one here, and it’s my birthday.” She raises her pert chin in a way that doesn’t look very grown up at all. “What I say goes.”

Emerie flicks up an eyebrow and stares in challenge, which Nesta interrupts by saying, rather exasperatedly, “I’ll go first, then.”

She digs around in her head for something embarrassing enough to be socially acceptable, only to realize that although a lot of embarrassing things have happened to her before, none of them are secrets. She finally settles on an admission. “When I was a kid, I had a thing for breaking and entering into rich people’s empty houses and hanging out in them. Does that count as a secret?”

Gwyn gapes, laughing in disbelief. “Are you going to leave it at that?”

“That actually sounds fun.” Emerie swirls her wine. “Why’d you stop?”

Nesta had almost forgotten. “I got caught.” She remembers the terror of being fourteen and fleeing past cherry blossom trees on her bare feet. “The owner’s family showed up early to vacation one year, and I never risked going back after that.” She shrugs. “Who’s next?”

Gwyn raises her hand excitedly. “I used to be a hardcore Gleek. Like, I had a closet full of Glee memorabilia.”

Nesta doesn’t quite know what to say. Emerie winces. “Maybe you should’ve kept that one a secret.”

“It was only one facet of my entire theatre kid personality. Should I tell you about the rest?”

Emerie raises her hands in surrender. “Please don’t. I’ll go next if it makes you stop.”

Gwyn laughs and Nesta perks up. “What’s your secret?” She hopes Emerie will finally admit to filling their shared Kindle account with lesbian spanking fiction.

But Emerie suddenly gets serious, clearing her throat and fingering the stem of her wine glass. “I might have the worst secret,” she says awkwardly. “I haven’t been honest with you guys.”

Nesta straightens, and Gwyn looks intrigued.

“In my defense,” Emerie says, “I never expected all of us to end up hanging out this much. Before Nesta and I became friends, all I did was show up to school to kick rich kids’ asses and make career connections.”

“Spit it out, Emerie,” Nesta tells her.

So she does. “I’ve been lying about my age.” Her cheeks turn red, either from alcohol or embarrassment, Nesta doesn’t know.

Nesta furrows her brows. “You’re not twenty-four?”

Emerie shakes her head in guilt.

“How old are you, then?” Gwyn says.

Emerie mutters something too low for them to hear. When Gwyn tells her to repeat herself, she says, too loudly, “Twenty-eight.”

She’s met with silence, and then—

Gwyn starts cackling, nearly keeling over. Nesta can only stare in shock. “Why would you—?”

“Because school is a shark tank,” Emerie says. “Everyone else went there straight out of undergrad, and I had to work four jobs for four years just to afford tuition. Being old at Prythian means being poor.” She quietens, looking down at her brown hands twisted together. ���And by the time we started to get close, it felt too weird to bring up. So… I’m sorry?” She looks up to see if Nesta is upset.

Nesta doesn’t know what to feel, but Gwyn seems to. “You called me old,” she accuses. “You’re nearly a grandma!”

“Were you going to lie about your age forever?” Nesta interjects.

“If I had known there was going to be a forever, I would have opened up a lot sooner,” Emerie defends.

Nesta drops her head onto the table and covers her ears with her arms. “This is so weird,” she says against the wood of the table, her voice muffled. “I can never look at you the same way ever again.”

“That’s fair,” Emerie says cautiously. “But are you really mad?” Nesta feels a hesitant hand touch her shoulder.

“I need time to process,” Nesta says from her cocoon. Suddenly she hears a hum and a click, and her cocoon gets even darker. Gwyn and Emerie make twin sounds of surprise.

Poking her head up, Nesta blinks to find total darkness in the apartment. The heater has stopped running, leaving behind a quiet stillness.

“Shit,” Gwyn curses, fumbling with her phone. The flashlight turns on, lighting up her face. “I swear I paid my electric bill.”

“I don’t think it’s just you,” Emerie says, getting up to look out the window. “Look, the whole street is out.”

By the time they gather some candles and light them, the apartment has dropped twenty degrees in temperature. Nesta shudders, wishing she’d brought some warm pants with her.

“Let me get us some blankets,” Gwyn says, running off to the linen closet. Emerie and Nesta huddle together on the couch while they wait.

“So you’re really not mad at me?” Emerie asks, hope in her voice.

“Not mad,” Nesta says. “But I think we all lost a little respect for you back there.”

Emerie smiles. “Just a little?”

Gwyn comes back then wearing a thick sweater and carrying a pile of comforters. “I got a text from the landlord,” she says, unceremoniously dropping the blankets onto the couch. “Ice took out the power lines in the whole neighborhood, and we’re not getting any electricity until morning.”

“But it’s negative temperatures outside,” Nesta protests. “We’ll freeze to death.”

“Not if we all cuddle.” Gwyn tries to beam at them, but the effort is futile. “I’m sorry, guys,” she sighs, plopping onto the couch beside Nesta. “This is a terrible birthday celebration.”

Nesta wraps an arm around Gwyn and tucks her into her side, soaking up her warmth as Emerie spreads a heavy comforter over all of their legs. “What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong.”

The girls sit in silence for a few minutes until Emerie speaks up. “I wonder what Mr. Madani is doing right now.”

“What?” Nesta frowns.

“He’s probably all alone in his fancy heated cabin, unaware that you’re stuck in the cold dark.” Emerie suddenly smacks Nesta’s arm. “Hey. Why are we freezing our asses off here when you practically own that cabin?”

“I do not practically own that cabin,” Nesta splutters. “And this is Gwyn’s birthday. Why would I take you to Cassian’s place on her birthday?”

“Exactly!” Emerie says. “It’s Gwyn’s birthday, and she deserves better than this. Can’t your boyfriend be a little charitable and share his nice house with us?”

Nesta turns to Gwyn for help, but Gwyn just says carefully, “...Is it a big cabin?”

Emerie nods fiercely, pulling out her phone. “Eris has a picture of it from New Year’s on his Instagram. You wouldn’t believe how much money these Night Court execs make.”

Nesta makes pointed eyes at Gwyn. “You really want to spend your birthday with two strange men?” Cassian and Azriel aren’t exactly meek, nonthreatening men either—at least not at first glance. Considering the state Gwyn was in just some weeks ago, this doesn’t sound like a good idea at all.

Gwyn sounds wary but open-minded when she says, “You trust them, right? And it’s not like we’re going to let the guys join our sleepover. We’re just going to have a warm place to stay while we wait for my power to come back.”

When it’s phrased like that… Nesta purses her lips, thinking.

“Fine,” she finally decides. “Let’s go.”

***

Nesta strips off her jeans almost as soon as she enters the cabin. Much to Cassian’s pride and pleasure, this leaves her wearing only one of his old sweatshirts. Meanwhile, Gwyn and Emerie stand around awkwardly in the middle of the living area without knowing what to do next.

“Make yourselves at home.” Cassian grins at them. “Do you need anything? Food? Drinks?”

“Stop worrying,” Nesta groans. “We don’t need to be mothered.”

“I totally hear you,” he nods. “I’ll make cookies.” And maybe some hot drinks. It’s supposed to be a birthday party, after all.

Just then, Azriel appears at the top of the stairs in a dark hoodie and sweats. He’s halfway down the steps when he notices the living room full of girls and promptly turns around.

Cassian calls his name before he can escape. “Want to help me out in the kitchen?”

“No, thanks,” Az says over his shoulder, leaving Cassian alone to play host.

While Gwyn and Emerie admire the cabin (“There’s a gym down the hallway and a library upstairs,” Nesta points out to them), Cassian gathers baking ingredients in the kitchen. He rarely eats desserts or junk food, much less makes them, but surely he can manage a snack for the girls.

When he returns to the living room half an hour later with cookies and mugs of hot chocolate, the coffee table has been moved out of the way and replaced with a spread of blankets and pillows. The fire crackles hotly enough that Gwyn and Emerie have joined Nesta in discarding any extra clothing articles, and they all cheer from the couch when they spy the food.

“Goddamn,” Emerie whistles at the platter of cookies on Nesta’s lap. “Nesta told us you were a catch, Mr. Madani, but she didn’t tell us she got the full housewife package.”

“Shut up.” Nesta shoves a cookie into Emerie’s mouth and passes Gwyn some hot chocolate. Any toughness vanishes when she looks back at Cassian. “Thank you,” she mouths, and he answers by smoothing out her ponytail.

Satisfied with his work and feeling guilty for crashing the girls’ fun, he’s about to call it a night when he feels a tug at his pants. Nesta is looking up at him with eyes that ask him to stay. Cassian glances nervously to Gwyn and Emerie, who are arguing about what movie to watch from his extensive streaming collection, and glances back to Nesta. Are you sure? he asks her silently.

She nods, but it isn’t until Gwyn says, “Just sit down, you’re blocking the TV,” that he indeed sits his ass down on the floor by Nesta’s feet.

A short tug of war between Gwyn and Emerie results in Emerie getting the remote. She blows a hair triumphantly out of her face. “No Planet Earth documentary for you, then,” she says.

Gwyn sits back, grumbling, “You’d think I’d get treated better on my damn birthday.” Nesta adds, “I like documentaries.”

“You’ll like The Proposal even more,” Emerie refutes, scrolling through the TV.

The smell of melting chocolate chips must invade the rest of the cabin, because not long after the movie begins, Cassian catches Azriel sneaking downstairs. As subtle as a shadow, no one even notices him until he plucks up a cookie from the side table by Nesta.

She slides her eyes over to him without turning her head. “You look like a punk with your hood up,” she snorts. “What are you, fifteen?”

From the floor, Cassian withholds a sigh.

Az shoots her a dark look, clearly not appreciating the attention brought to his presence. “Don’t be a little shit,” he warns in a low tone. He reaches for another cookie and Nesta bats his hand away. “Those aren’t for you,” she hisses.

“Can we please not—” Cassian tries.

Az glares and goes for the cookie again. Nesta smacks him back, which results in a slap fight that is only interrupted by Gwyn pleading, “Guys, we’re missing Sandra Bullock!”

Nesta pulls away, looking apologetic, and Az flushes pink. “Sorry,” he mutters. But he snatches up three cookies with a final look at Nesta and goes to sit in the armchair on the other side of the room.

Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie get cozy once more, quickly forgetting that Az is there. Emerie stretches her brown legs out across Gwyn’s lap like a cat. Nesta drapes her own leg over Cassian’s shoulder without warning. He turns around to meet her eyes, surprised, but she’s already intently focused on the movie. Smiling faintly to himself, he reaches up to brush her skin. It probably looks to everyone else like she owns him head to toe.

One thing Cassian quickly learns about the girls is that they simply can’t sit still. Even Nesta is more restless than usual, and she nearly kicks Cassian in the head more than once while readjusting herself on the couch. Emerie moves to sprawl on the rug. Gwyn sits upside down and watches with her head dangling off the seat.

As for Cassian, he loses all interest in the movie once Nesta joins him and Emerie on the floor, unable to contain her emotions from the couch. He glances between the movie and her face to find what’s making her so giddy, but it’s only the two main characters getting ready for a shower. He lifts a brow in amusement for no one to see, but settles back to watch her face in the glow of the dying fire. He’s waiting for her smile.

Because when Nesta really likes something, she’ll smile, and when she smiles… Everything scrunches up: her nose, her eyes, her cheeks.

On the TV, a naked Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock collide into each other, toppling to the floor. Nesta’s grin makes an appearance, and she slaps Cassian’s thigh in excitement, hard enough to hurt.

He hisses in a sharp breath, but doesn’t say anything or look away. He thinks he might have to kill anyone that refuses to protect the smile on her face right now, no matter who it is.

Once the scene changes, he walks two fingers up her leg to get her attention. “Nesta,” he whispers, unable to help himself.

She glances at him for half a second before looking back to the movie. “What?”

He opens his arms and gestures her closer. Come and let me hold you.

Nesta makes a face. “Don’t embarrass me in front of the girls.”

Cassian’s lips turn down. “You don’t mean that.”

She does. To prove her point, she crawls closer to Emerie and settles down next to her. Gwyn joins them on the floor, and they all huddle together.

When he catches Az staring at him with a hint of revulsion, Cassian coughs off the yearning and rejection and glares right back.

After the movie finishes, Emerie victoriously crushes an empty can of beer in her fist. Cassian has no idea where it came from. “More Sandra!” she demands.

It takes three more movies before Emerie is knocked out cold on the arrangement of blankets and pillows on the floor, Gwyn with her. Nesta eventually came back to Cassian and fell asleep with her arms wrapped around his waist, and Azriel passed out sometime after Miss Congeniality, curled up in the armchair with his fist propping up his head.

Now, Cassian carefully untangles Nesta from himself, nudging her towards Emerie instead. In her sleep, Nesta turns over to clutch the other woman’s arm and mumbles something unintelligible.

Cassian props a pillow gently beneath her head and picks up another one, throwing it harder than he needs to at Azriel’s face. “Get up,” he hisses.

Az jerks out of his sleep, looking around the dim room in confusion. Cursing lowly, he pushes himself out of his seat and scrubs a hand through his hair. “What time is it?”

“Three.” Cassian pulls a comforter over Nesta and Emerie’s shoulders.

Az crouches and picks up the other side of the comforter, adjusting it over Gwyn’s body. Cassian thinks he might see a frown cross his face for half a second, but then Az is standing up and brushing off his clothes.

After turning off the TV, the guys head for their rooms. “I didn’t think three grown women could be so... much,” Az says as they climb up the stairs.

Cassian huffs a laugh. “We were like that when we were younger, too.”

“Yeah, but we were teenagers.”

They reach the hallway. “I don’t know about the others,” Cassian says thoughtfully, “but Nesta never got to be a normal kid.” She barely got to be a normal adult. And in a couple of short years, she’ll be working her ass off at some prestigious firm and won’t have time for simple things like sleepovers anymore.

Cassian selfishly hopes he can give Nesta all the normalcy he can before that happens.

***

a/n: i’m gonna do my best in future chapters to give cassian depth beyond just his relationship with nesta 🥴 but first, be on the lookout for a gwynriel bonus scene :)

tags: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara9 @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad

[hrtiu]

Writing prompt idea- Bobannec marriage with the mandalorian vows? Maybe it’s a sincere but spur-of-the-moment thing between the two of them. I love your writing for this pairing! :)

Sorry it takes me so long to get to these prompts! I am still working through them, though, I promise! This one is great, thanks so much for the prompt <3

The heat on Tatooine was dry, but every once in a while the temperatures soared so high that the air was still heavy and sultry with it. On just one such day, Boba Fett rested in Fennec’s basement study at the palace, his back slouched in a wicker chair and his feet propped up against the edge of Fennec’s desk. He could be in his own study, of course, but the basement was always coolest on days like this, when even old Jabba’s powerful refrigeration system struggled to cool the ancient palace.

Fennec poured over a stack of flimsi and several datapads, her eyes flitting across each page for only a few seconds before moving on. Boba left most administrative work to Dr. Pershing—his brilliant mind was perfectly suited to paying bills and sorting the junk mail from what deserved Boba’s attention—but Fennec took on some of the more complicated business matters personally. She was a genius with a ledger, bringing Boba’s empire comfortably into the black less than two years after they’d started working together.

“Are you free next Tuesday?” Fennec asked, not bothering to look up from her datapad.

“Yes.”

“Alright. Keep it free. We’re going to Mos Eisley.”

The corner of Boba’s mouth turned down in distaste. “For what?”

“I’m making an appointment at the courthouse to get married. The tax benefits are ludicrous.”

Boba froze, his back arched midway through a stretch. Marriage. To Fennec? Taxes?

“I didn’t think we were the tax-paying type,” he said once he’d recovered enough to find his voice.

Fennec set her datapad down and looked over at Boba, a slight smile playing at her lips. “Only amateurs don’t pay their taxes at all. You have to give them something to throw them off your scent.”

“You want to get married to get a break on our fake taxes? On taxes that only represent a fraction of what we should be paying?”

Fennec narrowed her eyes at him. “And you have a problem with that? How do you think we got such a healthy surplus?”

Boba got to his feet and reached for his helmet. This was not a conversation he wanted his expression visible for. “We can afford it. Just pay the damn taxes.”

He started for the door, but the cold tone of Fennec’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“What is your problem?” she asked. “It’s just a legal status.”

He turned on her. “It’s not just a legal status. Not to me.”

Her eyes flashed. “We’re already practically married. What are you not ok with? Do you want me to move out?”

“No!”

“Do you want to stop sharing finances? Do you want me to sleep with other people? Do you want to sleep with someone else?”

“No!” Boba, more forcefully than he meant to. Then he noticed the flicker of doubt glinting in Fennec’s eyes. Funny, he didn’t think he’d ever seen something like that in her expression before. “No…” he repeated, softer this time. “Of course not.”

“Then… what’s the problem?” Her voice had gone quiet—almost delicate, though Boba would never admit to even thinking of her that way.

“I don’t want to get married in the same place that spice addicts get sentenced, that’s all,” he said. “Even if it’s just for taxes.”

Fennec slumped back in her chair with a sigh, and Boba’s body relaxed. They’d fought enough over the years for him to recognize a ceasefire when he saw one.

“Fine. We don’t have to go to the courthouse,” she said.

“Good.” He stepped out of the office and closed the door softly behind him. As he walked up the stairs out of the basement, he stubbornly ignored the knot forming in his stomach. He’d won the argument, so why did he keep feeling like he’d lost?

---

Boba barely saw Fennec over the course of the next three days. She’d always been somewhat elusive, disappearing for a few days at a time when she needed space, but this was the longest she’d been gone in years. It was the longest she’d been gone since they’d started sharing a bed.

Boba told himself he was fine with it. She was like an itinerant tooka, coming and going as she pleased. He knew he needed to be patient and let her come to him.

On the third day after their argument Boba walked into the master suite and immediately knew she was back. The signs were everywhere, subtle but unmistakable. The pile of shoes Boba had left by the door had been straightened, the lamp in the corner that Fennec liked to read under was lit, the closet doors—which Boba never bothered with—were shut. Afraid to spook her, Boba stepped cautiously further into the suite.

“...Fen?”

“In here,” her voice called from their room.

He followed the sound into their room, where Fennec tossed him his favorite blaster before he had time to register the sight in front of him.

“You have your armor on? Good,” she said.

Boba clutched at the blaster automatically, but his eyes stayed glued on Fennec. She was wearing a jet black gown that swept to the floor in elegant, draping fabric. The top twisted and criss crossed over her collarbone, tying behind her neck and revealing her shoulders. Her toned arms were hard with muscle but somehow her curves still showed through, her hips smooth and inviting and her skin begging to be touched.

“Fen… What’s this?” Boba managed to get out.

She picked up her sniper rifle from the bed and slung it over her shoulder, the thick leather strap at odds with her gazy dress but somehow still at home on her body. “You said you didn’t want to get married in a courthouse. So I did some research.”

“Research?” Boba was struggling to follow her, his mind both pleased and utterly bewildered by this turn of events.

“Yes.” She stepped towards him, sniper rifle still slung over her shoulder, and took one of his hands in hers. “I thought we could get married the Mandalorian way.”

“Oh…” This couldn’t be real, could it? Boba wondered in a daze. Did Fennec really know him so well? Could she see so far into his soul as to understand what he wanted before he even knew it himself?

That shadow of doubt passed across Fennec’s expression once more, and her grip on Boba’s hand tightened just the smallest amount. “Unless that’s not what you want,” she said.

That rare, precious show of vulnerability shook Boba from his daze, and his fingers squeezed Fennec’s back. He locked eyes with her and swallowed thickly, unexpectedly nervous.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” he said.

The corner of her mouth turned up and she responded, “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

And just like that, they were husband and wife.

Boba dropped his blaster to the floor and surged forward, pulling Fennec into a fierce kiss. She returned in kind, her lips moving against his in a way that was achingly familiar yet just as thrilling as the day they’d first kissed. He broke away long enough to push her onto their bed, then he was back on her, his tongue dragging a hot line up her neck.

She squirmed under him, then pushed him away so she could remove the sniper rifle from her back. Once her weapon was out of the way she snaked her hands around the back of his neck and drew him back down to her, her eyes dark and shining with an intensity only she held.

“What’s with the blaster and rifle, anyway?” Boba asked between breathless kisses.

She chuckled into his ear, her voice throaty and irresistible. “I don’t know, it just seemed more… Mandalorian.”

He snorted in response, though he couldn’t deny she was right. His wife was always right.

His wife. What a thought. Boba’s hand crept further and further up her thigh—his wife’s thigh—and he felt himself getting lost in her. With a jerk of her hips, Fennec rolled him onto his back and all he could do was stare up in wonder at her beautiful, lethal face. Her cheeks were flushed. Her braid hung over her shoulder, messy and nearly undone. She was the most flawless woman in the whole galaxy, and she was his. She was perfect, and he was hers.

She leaned down to him, and Boba lost his breath. “You know we’re still going to the courthouse next week, right?” she said, her voice husky and commanding.

Boba chuckled and drew her closer to him. “Damn taxes…”