#ms word workshop

[bittscollege]

Want to take your productivity to the next level? Join our Free MS Office Workshop and learn how to work smarter, not harder! Whether it's mastering Excel formulas, creating impactful PowerPoints, or streamlining your work in Word, we've got you covered. Learn essential tools, tips, and tricks that will transform your workflow.

Date: March 8, 2025 Time: 10:00 am to 11:00 am Mode of Instruction: Online, Virtual classroom Sign up today and start working more efficiently tomorrow! https://bitts.college/workshop-registration

For more details, visit BITTS International Career College or contact us today at +1 (866) 399 2055 or email info@bitts.college!

[natsaffection]

Redline. (Bonus 4) | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha × Younger!Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (N= 32, r=23), 18+! MINORS DNI! Restraints (handcuffs), strap on use, blowjob, oral (n receiving), strap riding

Word count: 3,8k

A/N: That was fun..

You were sitting in a team meeting, eyes blankly fixed on the screen where telemetry charts blinked in rhythmic flashes. Data, stats, numbers, normally you were locked into them. But today, the entire thing washed over you like white noise.

Because you weren’t thinking about tire degradation. Or fuel windows. Or even the race coming up. You were thinking about Natasha. It was just a flash in your mind, but it made your stomach twist with heat and giddiness.

Across the table, Natasha’s brows lifted. “Something funny, detka?”

You flinched like a kid caught daydreaming in class. “N-Nope. Just-uh. Sector times.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed playfully. She knew. Not what you were thinking, but that it wasn’t sector times. Your face flushed. You gave a quick nod, muttered something about needing water, and bolted out of the meeting room, heart pounding.

You took a breath and let it out slowly, willing your skin to cool down. But the image..Natasha beneath you, panting..refused to leave. Then, just ahead near the security booth, you spotted a man you barely knew by name, fiddling with a pair of standard-issue handcuffs.

You slowed, watching him casually twist them around his fingers. Something inside you clicked. Perfect.

With a growing smirk, you approached. “Hi!” you called gently.

The guard nearly dropped the cuffs. “Oh! Uh- Ms. L/n, h-hello!”

You grinned, holding back a laugh at how pink he turned. “No need to panic. I just…saw the cuffs.” You motioned to his hands. “Think I could borrow them for a few days?”

He blinked. “The…The cuffs?”

“Yes..” you nodded, completely casual, though your heart was racing. “Not for, like, arresting people. Just…practice.” You offered a crooked smile that probably didn’t help.

He stared for a beat, then nodded so hard it nearly shook his cap off. “Y-Yeah! Of course! You can totally- uh, here.” He offered them with both hands like you were royalty.

You took them carefully, feeling the cold weight of them in your palms.

“Thanks, really.” you said.

“I know you’re probably busy…but…my kids are a huge fan! C-Could we make a photo?”

“Of course! You gave me your cuffs. Least I can do.” He fumbled his phone out so fast he nearly dropped it, and you leaned in with a bright smile, snapping a quick photo before giving him a quick wave and strolling off, handcuffs tucked in your hoodie pocket, heart pounding.

Now, your room became a workshop. The cuffs lay on the table beside your laptop as you queued up video after video, escape artists, magicians, tactical demos. All of them showing quick, fluid techniques. One-handed flips, snap-click-lock or misdirection.

You practiced until your wrist ached. Pick up from the left. Fake a caress. Flip. Click. Pick up from behind. Loop the wrist. Snap it shut in one smooth motion.

You dropped them at least twenty times. Cursed under your breath just as often. But the vision..Natasha, hands locked above her head, blinking in surprise as you stepped back with a devilish smile, kept you going.

You rehearsed your lines in the mirror, cheeks warm with nerves. Sometimes you had to stop, burying your face in your hands and giggling like a teenager. But each night, you got faster. Smoother. Until you could click both cuffs shut in under three seconds. It had to be fast.. Because Natasha didn’t surrender easily.

Days later, the door slammed shut behind you, laughter and adrenaline still buzzing between kisses. You didn’t even remember how you’d made it from the car to the apartment, just that Natasha’s lips hadn’t left yours once.

Natasha was already pressing your back toward the bed, her hands firm on your waist, guiding you like she always did, in control, composed, knowing exactly where this was going.

But tonight, you had other plans..You crashed onto the mattress in a tangle, mouths locked, breath sharp, bodies already buzzing from the familiar fire between you. Natasha’s hand was sliding under your shirt, her thigh nudging between your legs, her rhythm confident, possessive.

Just like always.

You kissed her harder, then shifted. A quick twist. A practiced motion. Natasha landed with a soft grunt on her back. You moved fast, crawling over her, straddling her hips as your fingers dipped behind the pillow, feeling the cool bite of metal.

Natasha didn’t even blink, her hands tugging at your shirt now, eyes hooded. “Mmm, taking charge tonight?” she teased, voice dark velvet.

“Something like that..” you murmured, leaning down to kiss her again, slow this time, deep and purposeful. And as she reached up to cup your jaw..click.

You pulled back. One of Natasha’s wrists was now bound to the bedframe. There was a second of stunned silence. Natasha blinked. Looked up. A flash of confusion, a flicker of surprise, then amusement blooming like wildfire across her face.

You sat back on your thighs, grinning ear to ear, eyes sparkling like a kid who just pulled off the prank of the century.

“Oh my God..” you whispered, practically vibrating. “It actually worked!!”

Natasha laughed softly, raising a brow. “You planned this?”

You nodded, still catching your breath. “For days. Like..full-blown practicing. On myself. On a chair. I made your security guy give me the cuffs.”

“Wait- Mark gave you his cuffs?”

“He was so flustered he didn’t even ask why..” you laughed. “I gave him a selfie to say thanks.”

Natasha just shook her head in disbelief, still half-laughing. Her free hand was resting on your thigh now, her touch light but warm. “You little thief.”

For a moment, Natasha simply stared at you. And then, she raised her free hand and snapped her fingers.

“Key.”

You reached into your pocket, took the small key between your fingers, and flicked it, sailing it across the room, where it landed somewhere.

Natasha’s brow shot up. “…You didn’t.”

“I did.”

Natasha laughed, a low, dangerous, almost impressed sound. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that..”

She gave the cuff another pull, testing it. Realizing it wasn’t going to budge. Her muscles flexed under you, strong and coiled, and her eyes locked on yours, sharp and unreadable. “You sure you know what you’re doing? You think you can handle me like this?”

You leaned in, lips brushing her ear as you whispered, “I don’t think I can. I know I will.”

Natasha exhaled through her nose, eyes dark with challenge now. “You better make it worth it, sweetheart. Because when I get out of these…” Her free hand trailed slowly down your thigh, grip firm. “You’ll be begging.”

You grinned, hips shifting just right as you settled in. “Guess.. I better make you beg first.”

Natasha leaned back into the pillow, watching you with a predator’s patience. One wrist still cuffed to the bed, the other resting lazily on her stomach like this was just another game she’d already won. But her eyes… they tracked every movement, sharp and focused.

Your hands moved slowly, purposefully, as you started to peel away Natasha’s clothes. Every inch of exposed skin earned you a lingering look, that trademark Romanoff smirk never fading.

“Careful, malysh (baby),” Natasha drawled, voice low and thick with heat. “You undress me like that, and I might think you’re trying to seduce me.”

You just smiled, sweet, smug, and pushed Natasha’s pants down past her hips.

And paused.

Your eyes widened for just a second, a breath catching in your throat as you realized what Natasha was already wearing beneath.

A harness. Strap in place., ready and waiting. “Wha-” you blinked, somewhere between stunned and amused. “You were…you had this on?”

Natasha chuckled, low and dangerous. “You’re not the only one who had plans tonight.”

You looked up, eyes glinting. Natasha tilted her head, smirking like a cat who’d let the mouse think it had a chance. “You want it?” she teased, flexing her hips slightly. “Unlock me. And maybe I’ll let you ride it properly.”

But you didn’t move for the cuffs. Instead, you shifted, lowering yourself between Natasha’s thighs, your mouth now dangerously close to the toy. Your fingers slid over the harness, gaze locked onto hers.

“I’ll use it just fine, thank you..” you murmured and then you wrapped your lips around the tip.

Natasha’s smirk faltered. Her mouth parted, eyes going a little wider as she watched you suck slowly, deliberately, dragging your tongue along the underside like you meant to break her. Her free hand clenched the sheets.

“God..” Natasha breathed, hips shifting instinctively.

You glanced up at her, teasing, and went deeper, taking more of the strap into your mouth, slow, wet sounds filling the room. You hollowed your cheeks, working it like you were showing off, like you knew exactly how much it was affecting her.

And Natasha was affected. Badly. She tugged on the cuff again, harder this time. The chain clinked against the bedframe. “You-” she gasped, a small laugh breaking through her curse. “You little brat…”

You pulled back just enough to speak, your voice smug and sweet against the toy. “Still think I can’t handle it?”

Natasha swallowed hard, chest rising and falling with growing tension. “You’re so in trouble when I get out of these..”

You just grinned, lips brushing the base of the strap as you whispered, “Then maybe I’ll keep you there a while longer.”

And without another word, you took the whole thing in, deep, slow, confident, watching Natasha struggle. She was staring down at you, breathing heavier now, eyes slightly glazed, like she couldn’t decide whether to smirk or moan.

“You look so cute like this..” you murmured, voice low. Your fingers trailed slowly over Natasha’s hips as you moved down again,

Natasha’s free hand curled into the sheets. “You’re proud of yourself, huh?” she rasped, voice rough with tension.

You didn’t answer. You just settled between her thighs, nudging them wider. Your hands slid up, palms smooth against soft skin, and then..Your tongue met her core.

The reaction was instant. Natasha tensed, hips twitching off the bed, a soft gasp escaping before she could stop it. She grit her teeth, chest rising sharply, her arm pulling against the cuff again.

You smiled into her. You started slow, using your tongue with purpose, teasing circles and flicks that made her thighs tremble.

Natasha exhaled harshly through her nose, trying to stay quiet, trying to keep her body still. She bit her bottom lip, eyes locked on the ceiling, muscles taut like a wire about to snap.

But then..You found that spot. You pressed your tongue there, slow and firm, then sucked, just once, deep and focused.

Natasha bucked. “F-Fuck—!” The curse burst from her mouth, sharp and unfiltered. Her head snapped back, eyes fluttering shut as her body jerked. She yanked hard against the cuff, her free hand flying to the headboard like she could tear the whole damn thing apart.

You moaned softly at the reaction, proud and fueled by it. You pulled back just enough to whisper, breath hot against her core, “You love this.”

Natasha panted, teeth clenched. “Y/n, Fuck you.”

You laughed, low and dangerous. “Maybe later..”

And then you dove back in, tongue working faster, deeper, mouth devouring her like you wanted to leave her breathless and wrecked. Every twitch, every shaky breath, every curse spilling from her lips only pushed you further.

She tried to hold back, tried to keep the illusion of control, but it was slipping.. You could feel the tension coiling beneath her skin like a live wire. Her thighs trembled with every flick of your tongue, and her breath came in ragged bursts, sharp, guttural, completely unguarded.

But she still hadn’t said the word. Not the one you wanted to hear. You smirked against her, dragging your tongue in slow, lazy strokes, circling her clit without pressure, just enough to make her need it, not enough to let her fall. You flattened your tongue and licked her again, then pulled away entirely, letting your breath ghost over her skin.

She cursed under her breath, hips jerking up, chasing the contact. “Oh? That close already?” you purred, kissing her inner thigh. “And you haven’t even told me what you want..”

You looked up through your lashes. Natasha’s eyes were dark, lips parted, chest rising and falling fast. She was beautiful. Ruined. Desperate. But still clinging to her pride.

“Hah…” she exhaled through her teeth, free hand gripping the sheets hard. “You think this is new to me, baby? You think I haven’t been edged before?”

You laughed softly. “Yeah, but not by me..Common Nat..”

Then you leaned back in and sucked her clit, deep and wet, just for a second. Natasha cried out, still not a single word, not a plea, just a raw, broken sound. Her hips bucked hard, her body chasing every inch of pressure like it was the only thing grounding her.

You pulled back again. “You gonna ask for it?” you whispered, licking your lips.

Natasha shook her head, breathing hard. “No fucking way.”

You raised a brow. “You sound like you’re about to lose your mind.”

“Y/n.” she hissed.

You kissed the inside of her thigh again, dragged your nails lightly down her skin, then dipped your head once more, letting your tongue work with new intensity, hard, fast, deep.

And she lost it. She rolled her hips, chasing every flick of your tongue. Her head slammed back against the pillow, one arm still restrained, the other clenched in the sheets so tight it might rip them apart.

Still..no begging. Just gasps, groans and curses. You pressed your tongue flat again, relentless, never breaking rhythm. You knew she was there, right there, teetering, and you didn’t plan to let her fall until she was exactly where you wanted her.

“You’re shaking..” you whispered, licking slowly up again. “Please Natasha..let me hear it..”

Natasha grit her teeth, eyes fluttering shut. “I swear t-to god…”

You smiled. “Still not?”

Her only answer was a strangled moan that sounded almost like a yes. And you accepted it.. So you went all in, tongue deep, rhythm perfect, sucking and circling and dragging her right into release.

She screamed..a raw, guttural sound, hips jerking, body writhing, orgasm ripping through her. Her hand pulled at the cuff like she could tear the bed apart, thighs clamped around your head as wave after wave hit her.

Still, no: “please.” Just wild, shattered moans. You didn’t stop until she collapsed, chest heaving, eyes blown wide with aftershock.

Then you crawled up her body, kissed the corner of her mouth, and whispered, “That was better than begging.”

Natasha lay there chest rising and falling, one arm bound, the other limp on the sheets, knuckles white from how hard she’d gripped them. A slow smirk crept across her face, heavy-lidded eyes meeting yours as you leaned up slightly.

“Huh..” she breathed, voice rough and low, “you really went for it..I can’t believe it..” She whispered while brushing a bit of sweat from her forehead.

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, flushed and proud, crawling back up her body.

“You did good..” Natasha added, a cocky gleam in her eye despite how wrecked she looked. “I’ll give you that.”

You smiled sweetly…Too sweet. “Thanks.” you said simply, brushing a kiss to her cheek.

Natasha let her eyes fall shut for a moment, until she felt movement. Her eyes fluttered open again…and froze.

You were straddling her again. But this time? You weren’t going down to tease. You were going up.

Natasha’s breath caught as you positioned yourself over the strap still strapped to her hips, slick, already aching. Your hands rested on her stomach for balance, your expression calm…but your eyes burned with intent.

“Wait-” Natasha said, a slow smirk forming. “You’re not-”

You didn’t answer. You just started to lower yourself. Natasha’s pupils snapped wide.

“Y/n-” she grunted, jerking at the cuff instinctively, the chain clanging against the headboard with a force that made your head snap around.

You blinked. That was a strong pull. For a second, your eyes flicked up toward the frame, half-worried the metal might actually snap.

Natasha noticed. Her smirk turned lethal. “Oh?” she purred, voice dripping with danger. “You’re nervous now?”

You looked back at her slowly, a little breathless…but still smiling. “N-No.”

You lowered yourself further. The strap pushed inside you, slick and easy, but thick enough to make you gasp. Your fingers tightened on Natasha’s stomach.

Her jaw tensed, her arm flexing again. You exhaled slowly, rolling your hips downward inch by inch. You took it all the way in.

Seated flush against her. And Natasha groaned loud, helpless, her head falling back against the pillow as her hips instinctively tried to thrust, but had nowhere to go. All she could do was feel it.

“Jesus..” she choked out. “You’re- fuck, you’re soaked..”

You ground your hips in a slow circle, the pressure hitting just right. “I wonder why..”

You straightened again, hands sliding up your own body, down your thighs as you began to ride harder, deeper..slow, grinding, working yourself against the strap like you owned it. Like you owned her.

Natasha cursed under her breath, head tossing against the pillow. Her hips tried to follow, to thrust up, but with one hand chained and you in complete control, she couldn’t do anything but take it.

“Y/n..” she gasped. “You’re gonna make- feel so—!”

Another roll of your hips cut her off. Another deep, wet sound as you slid back down. Natasha’s eyes snapped shut, her chest arching, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it hurt. “I can’t-” she hissed.

You slowed again, pulling back until only the tip remained inside you, teasing the edge. Natasha whimpered..whimpered! And it wasn’t even intentional. You leaned down, your breath brushing over her mouth. “Can’t what, Natty?”

Her eyes fluttered open, dark, desperate, wrecked. She didn’t say the word..She couldn’t. But her eyes were begging. And you saw it.

You kissed her hard, biting, dominant, then sat back up, thighs trembling now from the slow burn as you dropped back down onto the strap, deep and hard, a slick sound filling the space between your bodies.

Natasha moaned, long, loud, involuntary. Her hand pulled at the cuff again, the chain rattling violently. “Y/n! G-God!!” Her voice was wrecked now, breathless, right on the edge. “You’re gonna- drive me fucking insane..”

You grinned, riding with perfect rhythm now, grinding deep against her, back arching as you let yourself chase the high. “That’s the plan.”

And Natasha? Helpless. Breathless. Drenched. Her mind slipping between pleasure and surrender, just barely holding onto that last thread of control.

She was breaking. Every inch of her body was flushed, trembling beneath you, breath ragged, voice reduced to raw, gasping moans. Her cuffed hand was bruised from how hard she’d pulled, and the other, finally reached up, grabbing at your waist, your side, anything she could touch.

“I need to-” Natasha groaned, fingers digging in. “Let me- fuck, I need—”

Your eyes widened slightly at the strength in her grip. Even in this state, she could flip you if she wanted.

But not this time. You grabbed her wrist with both hands, firm, focused, and pushed it back down to the bed.

“No touching..” you whispered, voice trembling with lust. “You don’t get to take tonight, Nat..”

Natasha let out a frustrated, wild noise, somewhere between a growl and a moan. “You’re.. gonna kill me..”

You leaned down, panting into her ear, hips slamming down hard onto the strap. You locked eyes with her, hands pinning her down, both arms restrained, one by cold metal, the other by your strength and sheer desire.

And then..You rode her. No more teasing. No more games. Just fast, filthy, relentless rhythm. Wetness coating everything. The sound of skin on skin filling the room. Your hips slammed down again and again, the strap hitting deep, you grinding hard against it with every bounce, every drop.

Natasha was gone. Her head tossed, mouth wide open, moans choked and broken. Her thighs flexed, her whole body trembling, helpless beneath you.

“Y/n- fuck- I’m..!” And she came.

Harder than before..louder, rawer, her voice breaking on your name. Her hips jolted, back arching off the bed, trembling uncontrollably.

And still..you didn’t stop. You chased your own release, using her body as your anchor. You moaned, breath hitching, the sight of her flushed and ruined pushing you over.

“Fuck..” you gasped, thighs shaking. “I’m gonna..Natasha—oh my G-God!”

You came with a cry, slamming down one last time, your body locking up as the orgasm ripped through you. Your nails dug into her wrists, your whole body trembling as you collapsed forward, grinding softly through the aftershocks.

And when you finally pulled away, the angle shifted. And the tip dragged just right against her again.

“Y-Y/n!” she gasped, body jolting. Her head dropped back, eyes squeezing shut as a choked moan escaped her throat.

You froze, wide-eyed. “s-sorry, I didn’t-”

Natasha let out a breathless laugh, arm flopping over her face. “Careful…” she groaned, voice shaking.

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. “Didn’t think that would still hit…”

Natasha peeked at you from under her arm, eyes glassy, lips parted, utterly wrecked. “It hit.”

You chuckled, spotted the key in the corner of the room, and carefully climbed off her. Your hands were still shaking as you picked it up.

When you turned back, Natasha was watching you. Flat on her back, one arm still cuffed, eyes half-lidded but focused now. That smirk from earlier? Gone. Replaced by something unreadable.

You chewed your bottom lip, key tight in your fingers. “You have to promise..” you said softly.

Natasha tilted her head. “Promise what?”

“That you won’t…” you hesitated, glancing at her body, then back up. “Flip this. Take over. The moment I let you go.”

She raised a brow, eyes gleaming. She said nothing. You narrowed your eyes. “Nat.”

Still nothing. Just that faint smile growing. You stepped back. “I’m not unlocking you.”

That earned a low laugh. “You’re bluffing..”

You didn’t move. And this time…she realized you weren’t. She let out a slow breath. “Fine.”

You waited. “I promise.” she said finally, voice low and warm. “I won’t do anything…without your permission.”

You searched her eyes for a long second. Then, slowly, you moved forward. You climbed onto the bed, into her space, and carefully slid the key into the lock.

With a soft click, the cuff popped open. A second passed. Maybe two- She moved like lightning. Flipping you beneath her in one fluid motion, your wrists immediately caught and pinned above your head.

You gasped, eyes wide. “Y-You promised!”

Natasha leaned down, nose brushing yours, eyes dark with heat.

“I did.” she whispered. “And I’m keeping it.” She didn’t move further. Didn’t dominate. Just held you there. Breathing the same air.

You blinked up at her, stunned. And then she kissed you. When she pulled back, her voice was barely a murmur. “Thank you for tonight.”

You swallowed. “You’re not mad?”

Natasha smiled, brushing her nose against yours. “Are you kidding? I’ve never been more turned on.”

Her grip softened. Her forehead rested gently against yours.

“But next time…” she whispered, lips brushing your ear, “You better run after you unlock me.”

You laughed, heart pounding. “Deal.”

-

-

-

-

[drazillion]

While we wait for Drawtectives Season 3, please have this ref of my Drawtectives Sona, Ms D. Mina!

For those not in the Drawfee Patreon or Secret Sleepover Society Discords, me and the other mods tend to respond to Drawtectives theories by saying "hehehe" since that doesn't confirm or deny anything. Which has led me to develop a persona that playfully taunts theorists with cryptic words

But what really inspired me to create Ms D. Mina was a Season 3 character design that we were workshopping with Julia. I wonder who that could be, hehehe

[seramilla]

I ended up binging all your posts about Vaggie being related to the Carmine's and ended up having a dream about all the wedding prep, including Carmilla actually meeting Charlie and thanking her for loving and helping Vaggie heal and grow from her time as an exorcist

I'm sorry, but this gave me ideas, so have some fluff instead of angst on this goddamn page for once.

Charlie Morningstar paces back and forth outside Carmine Industries for several minutes before she even thinks about touching the buzzer. A myriad of thoughts race through her mind as she steels herself for what she came here to do. Vaggie is distracted, back at the hotel helping Alastor with some kind of workshop or other for their guests. She has at least an hour until her presence is needed again -- plenty of time, she hopes, for a meeting with Carmilla Carmine.

Ultimately, it's not her who buzzes herself in, but one of the other Carmine girls. Charlie literally falls over in surprise as the metal door clanks open, but she manages to right herself before face-planting on the concrete outside. Odette, if memory serves, is standing there with a confused expression on her face, cocking an eyebrow at her and turning her head 30 degrees like a curious puppy. Charlie clears her throat, blushing profusely at her almost-fumble.

"Od-Odette! Hello! Did I get that right? Um, yeah, hi! I'm here to see Carm--Ms. Carmine. Is she home--at work--do you live or work here? I guess I don't know. I'm sorry, that's a dumb question, I just--!"

Odette chuckles. "She's here. Are you looking for an audience with her?"

Charlie lets out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Yes! Ma'am! Yes, ma'am! Oh, I'm sorry, do you mind if I call you ma'am? Is that weird? Should I call you something else?"

Odette chuckles again. "Odette is fine. No need for any formalities, your highness. You know you're welcome here. Follow me."

"Thank you so much! I'm coming!"

Charlie talks Odette's ears off the entire time they're walking toward Carmilla's office. Up a huge flight of stairs, around a corner, and all the way down a long hallway, Odette is given a crash course on all the current events happening at the Hazbin Hotel. She could probably give a lecture on the topic, given how good Charlie has gotten at really drilling home all the highlights of her redemption program.

When they finally stop in front of Carmilla's office, Odette gives Charlie's hand a firm shake, saying, "It's been a pleasure, Miss Morningstar. Now I must return to my tasks for the day." Then, without another word, she's gone again.

Charlie pauses at the ornate door leading to Carmilla's office. It's tall, and imposing. She's the princess of Hell, goddamn it! Something like this should be super simple for a daughter of Lucifer Morningstar!

Shaking all her misgivings out of her head, she says to herself, "Right! Let's do this!" before knocking firmly on the door three times. After a moment, a muffled yet prominent, "Come in!" reaches her from the other side. Taking another deep breath, Charlie opens the door, and steps inside.

Carmilla Carmine is at her desk, working away at a stack of files and papers that are practically as tall as Charlie is. Other stacks, she assumes the finished ones, are scattered in boxes around the floor at Carmilla's feet. Charlie doesn't even begin to know where to look -- the office is so busy. Instead, she ignores it, and smiles at Carmilla when the other woman's gaze meets hers.

"Charlotte!" Carmilla says, a happy lilt to her voice. She immediately stands and greets the princess with open arms. One of the privileges of dating the daughter of Carmilla Carmine is she's often privy to the woman's more maternal side. A notion that is quite welcome, as far as Charlie is concerned. It's nice, feeling that kind of maternal love again -- it's been so absent from her own life since her mother...left all those years ago.

"It's so nice to see you, Charlotte. Please, have a seat. What do I owe the pleasure of your company today?"

Carmilla gestures Charlie over to the plush couches on the opposite side of her office. The furniture has been upgraded since the last time she's been here. Charlie obliges and takes a seat. Carmilla joins her.

Charlie debates whether to break through her own misgivings with small talk, but decides better of it. She came here with a purpose today; she only has so much time before she's needed back at the hotel, so she decides to just get to the business at hand.

"Well," Charlie starts, immediately fumbling all the words she'd so diligently practiced earlier. That's so like her. But she won't be deterred! She grips the fabric of her pants tightly in both fists and continues.

"As you know, Vaggie and I are coming up on our 5-year anniversary in a few months. It's a big milestone for us, and I wanted to do something really special for her..."

Charlie pauses, waiting to see if Carmilla will interject. The older woman is as poised and stoic as ever, waiting patiently for Charlie to continue. Charlie wishes she could better gauge what the woman is thinking at the moment...but it can't be helped. Charlie's not a mind reader. Nowhere else to go now, but forward!

"...Anyway...um...what I came here to do today was...uhh...oh, fuck, why is this so hard?"

"Take a breath, Charlotte. It's okay."

That definitely is not helping Charlie's nervousness at all, being reminded to breathe, like she doesn't have two perfectly capable lungs, all her own. Carmilla is still looking at her with that face, like everything is fine. How does she know it's fine? She doesn't even know what Charlie's going to say!

Breathe, Charlie!

"God, okay. Hoooo boy. Carmilla. I came here today to ask...to tell you...that I love Vaggie very much. More than anything in the world. My life was not complete until she literally fell into it, and every day since then has been more rich, more fulfilling, and more full of joy than I can ever put into words. I'm telling you this because I'm going to...I want your blessing when I... I'mgoingtoaskhertomarrymeandIwantyoutotellmeit'sokay! Okay?"

The last part comes out of Charlie's mouth in a flurry of words. She lets out a sigh of relief, thankful she was able to get it out. She hopes Carmilla had understood her. Thankfully, the sparkle in Carmilla's eyes tells her that she has, and so much more. Before she can even protest, Carmilla pulls Charlie into a hug that's so tight, her spine nearly bows from the force of it.

Shit, this overlord's strength is nothing to sneeze at.

"You don't need my permission, Charlotte," Carmilla says, squeezing Charlie even harder around the waist. Charlie squeaks.

"I...I don't?"

"Of course not. You're already family. And Vaggie's a big girl. She can make her own decisions. But if you want my blessing...then of course you have it. I can never repay you for protecting her, loving, her, and watching over her when I couldn't. I would love nothing more than to welcome you into our family...officially."

"You, too!" Charlie says, not wanting to diminish the other woman's contribution to Vaggie's healing process. "Also, I almost asked my dad if he would do it, but...I want you to be the one to walk her down the aisle, if she says yes! I know she would want that!"

Carmilla can't hide the fact that she's the one crying now. Charlie sees her trying to hide the tears behind the hand in front of her face, but the cracks are breaking around the older woman's facade like a dam trying to overrun its banks. She smiles at Charlie, and nods.

"Of course I will. I would love nothing more than to give my girl away to you."

Charlie can't wait for the day she can pop the question to the love of her life. She's already bought the ring, got the date planned with Asmodeus, and booked an opulent night full of food, dancing, and every other pleasantry the Lust ring has to offer. She vows to make it the best night of Vaggie's life, second only to their wedding day, if she accepts Charlie's proposal.

Beyond that, all Charlie can see is happiness. She never dreamed as much for herself. But it's so close, she can almost grasp it. She leaves Carmilla's that day feeling more light and airy than she has in a while, and more full of conviction that she has the strength to see this through.

She deserves it. Vaggie deserves it. Carmilla deserves it. Her heart is so full of love and raw tenderness, she could practically burst.

[jessiexcorner]

Heartbreak Highs Pt. 6

Masterlist

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader. 

(Y/n) walked a bit behind Darren and Quinni, they finally had the day together, Amerie was gone, skipping school, Harper was doing her own thing, Malakai was missing too probably with Amerie. This was her chance to hang out with her friends, socialize but it was so easy to just become quiet and retreat into her thoughts. She had texted Harper multiple times, maybe a bit too many times but she was just worried about her friend. She even got to talk about Cash and Darren’s date or Sasha and Quinni’s escapades and all it did was make her feel more out of the loop, as if everyone in school had their own little secret and refused to tell her. When (Y/n) looked up she noticed Darren and Quinni were a good feet away she sped her pace to catch up to them only to freeze when Amerie pops out of nowhere and jump scares them. Gripping the strap of her bag tighter she walks behind them doing what she did best, staying quiet and listening in. “…I went to the beach, had some fish and chips, had some sex.” Amerie dropped the news. There was another stutter in (Y/n)’s steps. Amerie and her may not have been friends now but when they were younger, they bonded over the fact they still had their v cards. It wasn’t much but it was some semblance of a friendship pact. “ Your girl dropped the V plates! You couldn't tell, could you? I don't feel that different. Do I look different? Am I glowing?” “No. But you do have a cornflake on your shirt.” Quinni pointed out. “Who with? No, wait, let me guess.” “Malakai.” Amerie said proudly.

Oh. So he really was just having fun. Shake it off (Y/n). He is not worth—Holy shit. And there he was standing there holding a large bouquet of flowers and a heart shaped balloon with the words ‘will you be my girlfriend amer’. (Y/n) felt stupid. Embarrassed at any feeling she had for this guy how ever short they were. He’s just a pretty face, let it go. She thought to herself walking off.

“We have two very special guests speaking with you all today. I'm told Mr. Peterson is a regular visitor at the school and will run you all through some workshops. Whoo!” Ms. Jojo speaks, most barely listen, (Y/n) scribbles doodles on her notebook, out of it mostly. Everybody had somebody, Harper had her hands intertwined with Dusty, Amerie was passing notes with Malakai, Sasha had Quinni. (Y/n) sat doodling next to Darren.

 “…And believe it or not, many moons ago, I was a student here at Hartley High. So after I graduated, I decided to join the police force where I served for over ten years until injury forced me out. A question. I like it. Go ahead.” “Did you injure yourself from over-policing a marginalized community?” Darren’s voice brought (Y/n) out of her daze. “No, I tripped on a fence. Right, so, um, we're going to split the class in two. The girls are going to come with me and the boys will stay with Constable Perry.” Upon noticing everyone moving around, (Y/n) stood up following the girls, she sat in the back next to Harper, finally getting the chance to talk to her about that night with Dusty. Only for the blonde to be busy in her own thoughts playing with a lighter. “Sexual assault is a sad reality for far too many young women. You would know. And Rack Off is designed to equip you with the tools and the knowledge to assist in preventing it…” (Y/n) wasn’t paying attention more focused on Harper, “So now you know the psychology of an offender, their selection process It's time to learn how to get them to…Rack off. Uh, so now I'm going to demonstrate some simple self-defence moves that you can practice on each other. So, who wants to be a volunteer? Come on, guys. How about you at the back?” He points out Harper. Immediately knowing where this was going to go, (Y/n) raises her hand. “uh, yes?”

“Could I do it?”

“Oh, you’re volunteering?”

“Yes,”

“You don’t need to do that.” Harper rejects and goes up to the man leaving (Y/n) behind.

“Oh uh. sure, come on up,” It was a few minutes later the demonstration goes as normal, the officer grips Harpers’s wrist to show the students. “A man has a strong grip on you. Hey, you can't pull down or back, but the weakest part of the grip is the thumb. You need to cross-grip.” The demonstration ends when Harper panics and burns the man and walks off, (Y/n) following close behind.

“You didn’t need to do that. I could have gone on for you.”

“I wanted to, and I didn’t want you to do that for me”\

“I wanted to do it for you.”

“No, I mean I don’t need you hovering over me like I’m going to break.”

“Harper, I’m just—” before (Y/n) could finish Harper had already walked off leaving the girl behind feeling guilty and alone. The class heads back taking their seats, but Harper could feel the sad gaze of her friend on her. It wasn’t long before the boys came back, and everyone had to give a summary of what they learnt. And quickly both groups noticed a clear difference in their lessons.

“You didn't get the sexual assault thing we did? That's bullshit.” “We don't need it, all right? We are all feminists here, yeah? We know how to ask for consent. We use protection. I mean, Malakai the Pullout King, he just comes on himself.” Spider blabs revealing to the girls that locker room talk they had.

“Hey. How's that for a equality, Amerie?” “Go climb a waterspout, Spider. It'll be the closest you come to getting your dick wet.” Harper defended Amerie. “Okay, that's enough. Thanks. Thank you. Thanks, everyone, enjoy your lunch break.” The class leaves Malakai following Amerie and Amerie walking up to Harper and Dusty

“Oi. Don't do that.” “What?” “I don't need you to fight my battles for me.”

“Why don't you guys fight again? That was hot.” Spider says drinking from a can. “You three should play hide-and-go-fuck-yourselves.” Amerie stomped off.

(Y/n) walked around the library, looking for Harper only to spot her and Dusty making out and pulled away she then saw Darren and wanted to talk to them about their Mardi Gras plan which they usually did at their house, but they seemed to be busy with Cash. Quinni was missing probably in the nurse’s office with Sasha. (Y/n) walked around not sure what do with her free time. As she heads out the library she spotted Malakai with his head in his hands sitting on the ground.

“That’s pathetic” (Y/n) accidently said aloud. Malakai turns his head and looks up at her.

“Oh… hi.”

“…Sorry I meant to say that in my head.”

“No, it’s… fine. You’re right.”

“…right.” Just as (Y/n) was about to walk off Malakai starts rambling.

“Its just that, I didn’t mean to say anything, I barely did, they just kept egging me on and I just…” the next twenty minutes of her life (Y/n) had to spend listening to a boy complain.

“Okay, just stop talking.”  He shuts up looking at her. “I get it you like her, you didn’t mean it, but take her perspective she feels betrayed, it was her first time, and you just blasted her business to a bunch of boys that now look at her in that light. If you want to send your apologies, it’s up to her to accept it or not. Just don’t do it to make yourself better.”

“…that’s... helpful… thanks (Y/n)”  

“…yeah, I just didn’t want to hear you blab on about how bad you feel.” She walked off before the boy could say another word.

It was still early in the day but (Y/n) got up and dressed up in some colorful clothing, and headed off to Darren’s place with a tray of baked goods. She fixed herself up and knocked on the door nervously wondering if the plan had changed at all or not. Darren still just waking up opens the door.

“(Y/n)?”

“Hi!”

“What—”

“I brought food,”

“Oh-“

“I didn’t know when the Mardi gras thing was happening, so I came a little early is that okay?”

“…well since you did bring breakfast it’s fine.” They let in the girl, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes.

“So, how’s everything, it feels like it’s been so long since we talked, how’s cash?”

“he’s actually coming today, maybe, there was something weird that happened.”

“What? tell me everything!” They sat down eating the food and talking and joking, within a few hours, it was time for the party and Quinni came, to which (Y/n) excitedly talked to her about Sasha and catching up with them. The third person to come was unexpectedly Amerie. The brown-skinned girl looked a bit confused as to why (Y/n) was here.

“Why are you here?”

“Its mardi gras. I’m celebrating with my friends. As I always did.” Darren and Quinni side eye the tension.

“Okay? Lets get ready you guys!” that’s all it took for (Y/n) to take a backseat again. Ameire started talking about Malakai, which led Darren and Quinni to talk about their own love issues as (Y/n) quietly sat playing with her jewelry.

"It's heaps eetsway. I'll let you know, bro. for him sometimes.” Darren complained about Cash while putting on Amerie’s makeup. “Malakai needs to learn how to keep his mouth shut.” “You did tell us about the hook up.”

“I kept it PG. Whose side are you on?” “Yours, babes.” “One-on-one, Malakai is so lovely. But when guys get into that group pack mentality, they just turn so feral.”

(Y/n) notices Quinni having some issues and nudges her lightly asking if she was okay, to which the sparkly girl brushes it off. “I'm sorry, boo. Straight men are the worst. Mmm.” “Lesbians aren't that easy to deal with either.” Quinni huffed, “Everybody sucks. Mmm.” “Except us.” “Mmm.” Darren agreed. And (Y/n) wondered if she was a part of that or not. The door rings and Darren goes to check it out, while Quinni get something more to drink leaving (Y/n) and Amerie in awkward silence.

“…Just because you lost Harper, doesn’t mean you can take my friends again.”

“What?”

 “Don’t act coy.”

“They’re my friends too.”

“Sure. Let’s just keep it civil.”

“you’re the one being a bitch about it.”

“Oh, I can show you just how much of a bitch about it I can be—”  

“Just those nice boys we weren't totally just talking shit about.” Darren calls out announcing who arrived. Amerie had already moved to Quinni’s side leaving (Y/n) alone, she watched as Amerie confronted Malakai.

“Bold of you to come.” “Ah. Can we have a yarn somewhere in private maybe?” “I'm gonna go.” Quinni said, catching the hint. “Mmm. No, stay.” Amerie grabs the girl pulling her down. “Mm-hmm. Um” “Did you get any of my messages?” “No, I haven't, because you're on mute.” “Right.” “I need to wee.” Quinni says once more only to be pulled back again. “No, you don't. Sit down.” “Mmm. But this is excruciatingly awkward.” “No, it isn't.” Amerie affirms. “No, it is kind of.” Malakai rebutted. “Oh, I'm enjoying watching you squirm. Anyway, how'd you get Darren's address?” “I sent him a pin drop.” Quinni says happily. “Judas.” Amerie whispers. “Anyway, Malakai wants to talk to you, and he wants to say..” “I'm really sorry, Amerie. I messed up. Our business is our business and no one else's. I am I realize that in my actions, I was contributing to a culture that I don't want any part of. I didn't take into account how that might make you feel. I'm sorry. I promise I'll do better next time. Well, at least try to.” Malakai reads off his hand and Quinni mouths along encouragingly. After that things seem to go back to normal for the two. They all dress up, drink or do drugs, as (Y/n) sits quietly in the corner. It wasn’t until Amerie walked up to Malakai and kissed him and the group took a photo without her did she think of leaving. Quietly grabbing her bag, she slipped out of the house. As she stood outside the door a lump stuck in her throat did she notice her hands shaking a bit turning them over she noticed how cold they were.

“hey? You’re leaving?” (Y/n) turned to see Malakai.

“Um yeah... I forgot I have work... so.”

“Oh, we were about to go just now to the party you sure you can’t stay?”

“no.”

“…well... um I just wanted to say thanks again, for talking some sense into me to not feel bad about myself.”

“…” (Y/n) nods about to leave.

“Just, come along... maybe you’ll have fun?” Malakai says in one last attempt as if noticing something was off, before (Y/n) could refuse the rest of the guys come out and take her along, in her car, after parking she sticks with Quinni closely as they all head to the party. Inside was a light show with loud music and sweaty bodies, (Y/n) stuck close with Quinni not for the red head’s sake but her own. They watched the show until Quinni had to go to the bathroom, and (Y/n) followed not wanting to be left alone. As they chatted heading to the bathrooms they heard a familiar voice.

“Sasha?” “Quinni?” Sasha meekly asked back. “What are you doing? Oh.” The door opened to reveal Missy and Sasha doing drugs. “You want a bump?” Missy asks. “Oh, no, she doesn't.” Sasha immediately denied. “What is it?” “Ket. It's real nice too.” “No, it's sketchy. You don't want any.” Sasha said despite taking a hit. “You're doing it.” “And don't fall into another k-hole, you a-hole.” Missy jokes. “Shut up. No, it might mess with your medication.” “Oh.” “You know what I'm feeling? I'm feeling that we need to go dance. You wanna dance? Let's go dance.” “Yes. Yes! Let's go dance.” “I'll wait here.” Quinni said, “Oh, you sure? We can wait with you.” “No, it's fine. Have fun.” “Tactical spew? Yeah, tac vom.” Missy asks nodding as if understanding as Quinni tries to object. “Yeah, it's fine. We got you. Okay. We'll come back. Later.” The girls dance away leaving Quinni and (Y/n).

“You okay?”

“Yeah…no.”

“I know how you feel.”

“…?”

“Left out? Feel like you’re missing out?”

“…yeah”

“Its okay, you have me, and you can always talk to Sasha about it later,”

“Okay.”  Quinni goes to wash her hands as (Y/n) goes to the toilet. She spots Harper coming in to cool herself off.  “You look amazing.” She compliments the girl. “Thanks.” “It was really cool how you handled that guy yesterday. I wish I could be more like that.” “Like what?” “Like a boss. Say and do whatever I want.” “Why don't you?” “They might stop liking me.” “We're all gonna die anyway. So do whatever the fuck you want.”

Quinni smiles and (Y/n) comes out to see Harper and catches her, before she could run off.

“Harp, please,” Harper sighs and stays.

“Im sorry, I shouldn’t have treated you like that... I was worried. I know you can handle yourself, I just… it felt nice to have you back in my life again after so long, I don’t want to lose you again.” (Y/n) says softly.

“… it’s okay, just don’t do it again. Alright?” (Y/n) nods eagerly and hugs the girl. “ah im sweaty,”

“oh, want an icepack?”

“Why do you have an ice pack?”

“…do you want it or not?”

“…thanks (Y/n),”

When the girls came out Darren was having their performance, the crowd cheered for them as they waited for the judges to rate the performance.  

“Judges, scores. Tens, tens. One chop, baby. Where is the white? Where is the white? We're sorry, but you should've brought it in a white look. We'll see you at the next ball, though.” the crowds boo at the judges. “It's ballroom, you'll get over it.” The host says.

(Y/n) gets close to congratulating Darren for getting on stage, but they get bombarded with Amerie and the others.  At some point everyone splits up again leaving (Y/n) in the crowd of sweaty dancing bodies, as she makes her way to the couches she bumps into someone.

She looks up to see Spider. “What are you still doing here I thought you would have left by now, looks like you stuck it out eh?” Spider teases only to notice how uncomfortable the girl was and hesitates before pulling her along.

“Hey!”

“Do you want to stay in the sweaty grinding bodies?”

“…” the girl shakes her head and lets Spider drag her along to an open area. “…Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah don’t mention it fish.” He walks off with his water bottles. (Y/n) notices everyone is busy Quinni with Sasha on the couch, Darren and Cash making out, and Ameire with Malakai out of their minds. She sighs and makes her way out of the club only to find the others also coming out. It wasn’t long before the chaos erupted, screaming as a cop body slammed Malakai, Ant picked up the body as they ran away and came to an impasse, Malakai was panicking, Amerie was yelling.

“I knew they would do something! Why didn't you listen?” “What are you yelling at me for? They didn't come after you!” “Did anyone Did any of you film it? Did you get it?” “Yeah. Here.” Ant mentions sending the recording. “We gotta expose them. We need to share this.” Amerie says, “No, don't do that. Don't do that!” Malakai panicked more. “But Malakai, what?” “No, don't.” “The people need to know! We need to let people know.” “Nothing is going to happen. Nothing ever happens to them. I'll get shit for it.” “Shouldn't have sworn at him.” Spider comments to which everyone yells at him. “Shut the fuck up, Spider!” “Malakai, that was so, so wrong. You need to let people know, tell someone.” “Amerie, just leave it. No! I said no! All right, just listen to me.” “Okay. Okay. I'll shit. Um” “What?” “I, um, I can I'm just gonna delete it.” “Did you just post it?” “I'm so sorry. I um” “What the fuck? I told you to leave fuck!” “I'm sorry—" Amerie stutters, “fuck off! Get away from me. Get away!” “I'll delete it now!” “Just get out of my life!” “What? Are you—" “fuck off! I want to be alone! Just leave me alone. I—” He runs off. “Don't let him go. Amerie. Don't just let him walk away.” Harper urges trying to reason. “You heard him. It's done.” She walks away, Dusty and Harper move after Malakai wanting to follow him,

“Wait Harp, we’ll take my car it’ll be faster,” Harper agrees and follows (Y/n) they drive along the route and find Malakai crying under a light pole, Dusty and Harper get out and start comforting him. “It's okay, man. It's okay.” “Hey, it's okay. You're safe now. It's okay.” They help him stand. (Y/n) opens the door for them, the two help him inside and they drive off to Dusty’s place. Harper sits on the bed, letting Malakai rest his head on her as Dusty puts on a record, (Y/n) brings in some water for them all. Harper plays with Malakai’s hair as they sit in listening to the music. (Y/n) takes her place next to Harper’s side. Dusty on the other having rolled up a joint, taking a puff passes it to Harper. She inhales and lets the smoke hit Malakai, at some point Dusty takes Harper’s hand and rests it on Malakai’s shoulder. At that instance everything seems tenser for (Y/n). Harper then leans in kissing Malakai, surprising them all, then looks at Dusty who does the same thing. Harper then turned to (Y/n), resting a hand on her cheek, making (Y/n) tremble nervously, the blonde leaned in and was about to kiss the girl before she pulled away quickly shaking her head.

“…you’re high,”

“you’re pretty,” Harper murmurs, and gives a quick peck shocking the girl. She turns to see Dusty giving a smile of approval and Malakai looking at her as if waiting for a turn. (Y/n) stays still unsure what to do, until Harper, comforts her. “It’s okay, we can teach you if you want.” She pulls Malakai up, hinting for him to kiss (Y/n), which he does, the poor girl now startled stands up noticing the odd vibes in the room,

“I.. I can’t,” she stands and leaves, heart beating faster than light. (Y/n) heads to her car leaving the three, to have have their fun.

A few days later, (Y/n) gets cornered by Harper. “Hey. You're avoiding me,”

“…no.”

“Yes.”

“…”

“Im sorry. I was drunk I shouldn’t have pushed you—”

“I don’t know what youre talking about.”

“…(Y/n).”

“I have class. Bye.”

“(Y/n).”

“…it’s whatever. Not like I had my first and second kiss from two drunk people..”

“… I’m sorry.”

“…”

“How can I make this up to you? Please?”

“…I don’t know. I just... I need time.”

“Okay,” Harper watched the girl scurry off to her class.

Tag list:

@inkpot-winters

@juhdoche

@minnipe

@shycreationdreamland

@meowiemari

@momdisappointment

@spookyscellar

@frog-fans-unite

@navs-bhat

[patroxlos]

home base . ch3

"friends who believe in mpreg" - 2.7k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch2. "friends who reconnected and who certainly don't want to be more"

next: ch4. "friends who sleep on call with each other"

Kenji endures an awkward interview with sports journalist Ami Wakita.

And is it monsterfucking if you're kind of into Ultraman?

A/N: So my dad accidentally bought me a coffee float instead of the coke float I asked him to get me. I ended up caffeinated at 11PM and began writing this in jitters. it's nearly 3AM. This is unedited and unfiltered which means: my writing is gonna be so unserious you will sit there and ask yourself "Is this writer different from the one who made the last two chapters?"

Hoping you can keep up with all my pop culture references. Motsubishi is such a silly little name. I was workshopping other company names like "Soni," "Yomaha," etc. but Motsubishi is giving Mob Psycho 100 brand parody.

Also, I refer to Ami as 'Ms. Wakita' connotes that she and Ken are still not that close, but as you would be able to tell while reading, they are begrudgingly becoming fast friends.

---

“Absolutely not.” Ken denies it immediately, with a slight aggression. “There’s no lovechild to speak of. We are just friends.”

Ami Wakita flinches a bit at his tone. “Woah, they weren’t kidding when they said you’re a bit defensive about her.”

“Who’s they?” He huffs, taking a bite from a strip of tonkatsu to calm down. He was glad that it is just him and Ms. Wakita in the restaurant at the moment. He would not want anyone to overhear their conversation about you. 

“Your friendship with the Motsubishi scion has been well-documented since the start of your professional career. Rumors about your couplings have been circling since before,” Ms. Wakita points out.

“No comment.” His media training kicks in with his mouth full.

She rubs her temple a bit. “What did I say about you showing a little vulnerability?”

“I didn’t even say anything about my dad before you psychoanalyzed me!”

“Well was I wrong?”

Damn, she’s good. “...I thought you were a sports reporter.”

“Reporting on the players’ personal lives is a big part of it,” she coolly responds. “You should read my articles on Ohtani’s translator embezzling his funds, or the Yuki Tsunoda puppy interview I produced.”

“This isn’t about puppies though…” His shoulders are tense. “She’s just been my friend for as long as I can remember. Her family has always been good to my family– especially to my mom–and I know how much they value privacy. She is at a really crucial point of her career working to inherit one of the biggest conglomerates of the world. She and I definitely wouldn’t risk a secret pregnancy.”

He is impassioned when it comes to you.

“Woah…Can I quote that?” Ms. Wakita glanced down at her phone recording their conversation.

He deflates. “Yeah yeah sure whatever. You’re right, this isn’t the first time someone has made up stuff about us. Lovechild is new though. The last time it was an arranged marriage.”

“If it helps, online reaction has always been generally positive at the idea of you two coupling up,” she tries to be helpful. “Both of you are celebrities in your own right. You’re both young, wealthy and attractive. It fulfills a lot of people’s fantasies. The engagement rumors came about only because you two have been publicly attached to each other for so long.”

It does help. A bit too much. His heart picks up. Of course Ken has read all the comments whenever those articles came out over the years. You visit him in L.A. whenever you could, and those visits helped a lot with maintaining your friendship. There are multiple photos of you attending his career-defining games wearing his baseball jersey— the oversized look making you seem like his perfect WAG sitting beside his mom.

Ms. Wakita reads this on his face, clear as day. She figures that he is telling the truth about you and him never ever being romantically involved, but there seems to be something additional brewing on the surface. Putting on an unassuming tone, she asks “So I guess that’s it? You both can’t imagine being involved?”

He leans back on his seat, confidently answering “Yes, we both think it won’t work out long term—”

He proceeds to unlean as the realization causes him to hunch over. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuckity fuck. She really can get the devil to confess his sins.

She tries not to look too thrilled about his slip up, which he can commend her for.

“W-What I mean is that neither her nor me— it’s not happening. It never happened,” he stammers. He needs a new media trainer.

“I’m sure you recall that there have been photos—”

“Of her at my games? Of course she was, haha!” He did NOT need her to mention their other photos right now.

Please don’t.

Please don’t. Please… He is supposed to be moving on. Which he has!

“—that pop up over the years of you two being overly familiar.” She finishes.

God kill him. “All alleged. They’re too blurry to be sure it is us.”

“...Some looked like pro shots to me.”

Ken nearly slams his face on his tonkatsu.

“The one where you’re both getting smoothies at Erewhon was cute?” She sounds honest, and she is. She isn’t even going to report on this. It is already evident that the gossip is a sham, but she cannot help but want to tease the baseball player a bit, now that they are sort of becoming acquainted.

He sighs. “Thanks. It was the Ken Sato wheatgrass and bone broth blend. She didn’t like it.”

He remembers that day. You made a face when he tried to get you to take a little sip, so he blew some raspberries against your cheek and maaaybe just a little on your neck as you both stood in the parking lot; you were shrieking for him to stop as his smoothie-covered lips smothered your skin. All friendly, of course.

“Where did the lovechild thing even come from?” Ken thinks aloud. “She looks too great to be pregnant.”

Ms. Wakita, known single mother, asks “...Do women not look great pregnant?”

“Oh you know what I meant,” He snaps as she covers her mouth with a napkin to laugh.

She stops the recording on her phone to slide him the online tabloid article. Allegedly, he and you fought about him being an absent father at the restaurant last night as you have endured your pregnancy all alone. The story ends with a sweet coupling at the parking lot before you left on separate vehicles, a marker that neither of you planned to get married, or a possible abortion in the near future. What. 

“You have a thing for parking lots?” She tries to joke.

His eyes nearly bulge at one line. “‘ The Motsubishi scion ate for two as she devoured a Yakisoba platter all alone—’ It was a decently sized portion for a reasonable price! And I definitely am not an absent father!” He says the last bit with a bit too much vigor.

“I didn’t write it,” She tries to keep his emotions in check. “...I did nearly believe it for a moment though when you called me last night. Was it an hour or two after you met up with her at the yakisoba place?”

He admits that if he was in Ms. Wakita’s place, he would’ve also thought he was secretly raising a child. He wonders whether the Baby is awake right now, terrorizing Mina. “Totally unrelated events.”

“And the apparent baby book purchases in your credit histo— how did a gossip mag get that information?” She marvels as she scrolls through her phone.

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the world finding out that he is raising a giant baby lizard in his basement or people thinking that he’s an absentee like his own dad.

A red blinking light catches Ms. Wakita’s eye. “Are…you gonna get that?”

Not hearing her at first, he runs a hand through his face. God he really did not want to imagine your reaction to this news article. He promised you that it would not be weird. The past is past. If your friendship is already in danger, this might ruin things even further. Oh he can already hear the alarm bells ringing in his head—

Or from his watch?!

“Hey, you don’t have a kid growing in you right now, do you?” Your assistant asks you as she glances at your stomach.

You were both in one of your sleek city limousines on the way to a late evening banquet, where you are due to give a speech. The traffic jam in front of you stretches a kilometer. You follow her gaze. “I thought this suit was slimming.”

She passes you her phone. Huh. ‘Motsubishi Scion Gets Impregnated by Famous Baseball Star.’  You pass the phone back to her. “I don’t want to see the kind of porn you’re looking at.”

“Young Master, it’s an article about you and Ken Sato.” Your assistant was not in the mood for your jokes right now.

You just shrug, taking your phone out to send a few quick texts to Ken. You are sure he probably heard the news by now, and he will definitely agree with you that it is as hilarious as it is ridiculous. “It’ll blow over.”

As you look back out of your window, you’ve already forgotten about it. Seems like a slow day for the newsroom.

At the horizon, you see a PacMan proudly sticking out from the top of a building get knocked down by some beam of light. You yawn and stretch back out on your seat. “Can we go any faster? I want to get this banquet over with.”

Your driver sighs. “This new kaiju attack is impossible ma’am. Apparently, it is just running around without any clear direction.”

“Well I don’t think a monster would have access to KoogleMaps,” you reply wryly.

It was going to be a long night. You begin to settle in for a nap while people are exiting their cars and running out into the streets. Their screams of terror sound muffled inside your bullet-proof vehicle.

“Should we get out too?” Your assistant nervously asks.

You lift up your foot and rest it on your knee. “I’m wearing So Kates. I don’t think I can run either way.”

As you say that, your security detail at the front of the limo begins getting out. Ugh, Tokyo is the worst… You need to fly out soon. He opens your car door and extends a hand out. “Let me carry you, Young Master. Better to evacuate now.”

“Must I?” You groan in frustration.

“We can skip the banquet and take you home,” he compromises. Begrudgingly, you step out of the vehicle just in time for the pinkest…chicken lizard to pop up at the corner of the street.

Immediately, you are swept off your feet as your security detail rushes to escort you and your assistant away from that thing as fast as possible, the wind is knocked out of your lungs. You peek over the shoulder of your bodyguard for a better glimpse at the chirping beast.

You lock eyes with it.

Big mistake.

Because why the hell did it flitter with excitement and began chasing you?!

It keeps chirping, and… burping?... as it hobbles and stomps over cars. Your jaw drops as your limo is flattened like nothing. And for some strange reason, the monster’s eyes are solely trained on you.

Did I do something to piss it off? You ask yourself as it gets closer. You know you can be a bitch but you would remember if you told it to fuck off. No, this monster is chasing after you like it knew you. There was no aggression in its oddly proportioned body, like you are being chased by that grotesque baby in the Tin Toy Pixar short. There is no moral compass behind those beady little eyes, just the pure pleasure-seeking nature of baby hedonism.

It gets closer, and your bodyguard’s legs can only run for so long. He screams bloody murder as he feels himself get picked up, you along with him, by the beast. You hear another scream that sounds like your own voice as you feel yourself get ripped from your bodyguard’s grasp. The monster puts him back down on the street, his landing relatively gentle.

You are being shaken like a rattle now in its claws, its gurgling filling your ears. “Oh my god.” You feel yourself getting sick from the nausea. You never thought you were going to die like this. Your legs flail in the air helplessly but your So Kates stay on, pinching your toes like you are about to give them the best shoe advertisement Louboutin can ask for, with how it feels glued to your feet.

The ground rumbles as if a giant springs through the streets. Your life does not flash before your eyes, but you can hear it in your ears— a very clear ring of Ken shouting “Baby! Put down the human!”

…

Huh?

You felt your body decompress as the monster’s grip loosened. Air returns back into your lungs, but you don’t find yourself returned to the ground.

Instead, you are being lifted up way higher into the sky as you lay on the palm of Tokyo’s hero: Ultraman.

You hiss as your eyes burn from the blinding lights of Ultraman’s unblinking lenses. “Are you okay—?” He says your name with a rising panic. You can swear you saw his chest light threaten you change colors. He is cradling you against it.

You did not know Ultraman can be this friendly with Tokyoites. You struggle to regain your ability to speak, a bit confused and frazzled from everything that just happened in the past minute.

The hero takes this as a bad sign. “Oh god you’re hurt.” There is an ache in his words that shakes up your own core. No one has ever sounded this worried for you.

Man is he bright . You try to shield your eyes from his light. You are brought up close to his face as he inspects your body. “I– I’m fine,” You manage to rasp out. You are initially not sure he heard you, but the evident sag of his colossal, broad shoulders affirms that he did.

You have never gotten to observe the hero this up close. Despite the unemoting face, you find his body to be an open book as it trembles with the fear of losing you. Even if he must be like this with every other citizen in need of saving, you cannot help but feel a little special.

“I was so worried— wait here for help.” He lowers you on top of a roof building, his fingers shaky, worrying about dropping you. You shakily slide off his palm, patting down your suit. You stumble a little on your stilettos, and instantly his massive hands crowd you once more to hold you up. " Please be careful."

“Ultraman!” You shout as you push away his fingers. “I’m okay, thank you!” You point towards the Tokyo Tower, where the baby-like kaiju was already climbing up. “You gotta deal with that first! Leave me, I’ll be alright."

“Huh? Oh, yeah, god… ” The hero curses, getting ready to sprint towards the tower. “Be a good girl and stay put, yeah?” He says to you before running off.

Your feet wobble on your heels as you nearly keel over from the adrenaline coursing through your body. That… you are never leaving the house again during a kaiju attack. Though… you watch as the slim figure of Ultraman begin to climb the tower after the kaiju. Maybe it won’t be that bad next time.

Later that evening in the Ultrabase, Ken excuses himself from the company of his father, Mina and the baby as he heads towards the bathroom for a long-awaited shower. His muscles ache with every step, and he is tempted to pass out on the cold floor— wouldn’t be the first time since getting this newfound responsibilities.

This is getting too overwhelming. He still cannot believe he felt so cornered against the wall that he had to call his dad for help like some kid. If only you saw him now. You were oddly closer to his dad than he was.

Oh shit, you.

You, who he left stranded on some random building.

He quickly fumbles for his phone, eager to call you to see if you’re alright.

Shit , he feels some tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. He is fucking everything up. He is a bad son, a bad father, a bad friend.

Ken opens his messaging app, and he first sees the texts that you sent earlier in the evening.

…

[YOU]

Hey bbgirl.

You pregnat? Pragnent?

My mom is gonna hand you a stack of 20M yen just to stay away from me. Are u g to take it so we can split it after? LOL

Not rlly in the mood to be ur baby daddy atm. get a DNA test before i send child support.

SENT LINK: Motsubishi Scion Gets Impregnated by Famous Baseball Star.

Bc if one of us left that restaurant pregnant it definitely would not be me

A/N: Ultraman fine as hell have you seen his waist?

This chapter was supposed to go A LOT differently from how it ended up being. It was initially supposed to be an extended conversation between you and your assistant about your past...whatever you had...with Kenji during your visits to L.A. But I actually really like writing Ken POV because him and I are pretty similar?

[tanaudel]

My debut short story collection KINDLING is now a multi-award-finalist! It's been shortlisted for the World Fantasy, Locus and Aurealis Awards, and if we can't put that in a yellow circle, what can we?

The whole collection is available from Small Beer Press and good bookstores, but three stories are available online (see below), and here are also some notes I wrote about each of the stories in case we needed to fill extra pages, which we didn’t!

“The Heart of Owl Abbas” (available on Reactor)

This story began as an online writing challenge among a group of Brisbane writers. The aim was to start by writing one sentence on the first day of January, two on the second, and so forth. This is perhaps why it is such a word-soaked story, knitted out of sounds and echoes. When editing it, I had to message C. S. E. Cooney frantically across timezones questions like, “What is a word that means “numinous” but doesn’t have any Ns or Ms in it?”

It is more than a little influenced by Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tale “The Nightingale”, and by every story about hearts. And perhaps less obviously, although integrally, by The Divine Comedy’s “Songs of Love”.

As with almost every other story here, Angela Slatter’s feedback, editing, teaching and (vigorous) encouragement was invaluable. All infelicities are mine.

“Skull and Hyssop”

“Skull and Hyssop” was a tonal exercise. I wanted to write a story that, while nominally steampunk-ish, felt blue instead of sepia. It was also one of the first stories which I consciously edited by splinting it to the patterns of a fairy-tale after it was written. “Seven Ravens” remains one of my favourite fairy tales, and this is not the only project it’s influenced.

And, finally, Kelly Link’s structural feedback at a writing workshop in Brisbane pulled it all together, and gave Alban his career direction.

“Ella and the Flame”

This is one of the oldest stories in this collection, and one of the earliest to start playing with the themes that show up in several later tales — the melding of beauty and danger, desire and anger, and the making of something you (if possibly not others) want out of only the materials at hand.

“Not to Be Taken”

I wrote this for an anthology on the theme of “Poison”. I’d already played with the central image of old glass bottles in one of the stories in Flyaway, but I wanted to do more with it here, and build it out into the visuals of a world. It was also influenced by the idea of people who act deliberately when becoming who they wish to be.

“A Hedge of Yellow Roses”

This is, of course, a “Sleeping Beauty” tale, but written in answer to the question of what happens when a prince is needed to lift a curse, but the time of princes has gone. And also, what exactly a curse is, and what faithfulness entails. There are birds, of course. There are always birds.

“The Tangled Streets”

I was pleasantly lost one afternoon in Darlinghurst, on a windy, glittery day. But my image of Sydney had long been indelibly shaped by Ruth Park’s timeslip novel Playing Beatie Bow. The story also picks up on some beloved themes of people stumbling into their abilities, and working out how to use them without guidance. And maps, of course.

“The Present Only Toucheth Thee” (available on Strange Horizons)

This began with a central image (it was in an odd dream) of someone repeating several lives in quick succession in one place and almost remembering them. I tried writing a long noir/murder story, approaching it from various directions, but in the end this time-lapse overview caught almost all the scenes I wanted. The title is from Robert Burns’ poem, “To a Mouse”:

Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!

The present only toucheth thee:

But Och! I backward cast my e’e,

          On prospects drear!

An’ forward tho’ I canna see,

          I guess an’ fear!

“On Pepper Creek”

One of the stories told in Flyaway, “The Megarrity”, deals with a creature imported over by uncertain means, surrounded by companions of doubtful morals, turned feral — not only out of place but displacing. I wanted to spend a bit more time on the early arrival of a similar beast. The boggart, however, turned out much less self-confident than the Megarrity.

“Annie Coal”

Every time I try to write a story about someone not being a princess, it becomes about the opposite. But I fell in love with Annie, short and gruff, and the sea-framed, green world that unrolled around her. There’s an homage, here, to Diana Wynne Jones generally, but particularly The Power of Three and Cart and Cwidder.

“Undine Love” (available on Reactor)

This began as a frog prince retelling — promises and faithlessness and food. The first attempt was consciously and ridiculously archaic. Then I decided to pull it into the present — I think that version was set at a beach house on a grey day. Then I shifted it again to the Lockyer Valley in Queensland, to which my parents had relocated. After the slow unrolling of views in the west, where they lived before, this rapidly folding and changing landscape was endlessly enchanting. So the bed and breakfast appeared, and Tori trying to be a responsible adult, and the Damson family, who mean well. Cousins of theirs — fencers — appear in Flyaway. As do bagpipes. Anna Tambour was very supportive of this story, and her “The Valley of the Sugars of Salt” had a huge influence on how I thought to write the landscapes I knew.

“Kindling”

I wrote “Kindling” for an anthology with the theme (and title) “Light Touch Paper, Stand Clear”. It became about the loss of maps, and the threading of enchantment into a world. But the world itself — its ghosts and springs — grew out of the taste of its own words, and would re-emerge, stylistically at least, in the architectures of “The Heart of Owl Abbas”.

“The Splendour Falls”

Again, one of the very oldest in the collection, although it would slightly influence the world of Flyaway, and of Honeyeater. It grew out of the streets of Brisbane, and the way at a certain time of year, and in a certain light, it is like living for a moment in the stained-glass canopy of a Tiffany lampshade. And, of course, the lingering enchantment of a Tennyson poem.

[welcome-to-the-end-of-eras]

Live Read - The Hymn to Dionysus

IT'S TIIIIIIIIIIIME.

Spoiler-free observations:

I WISH there was an option to get the UK cover in the US. I do actually like the US cover a lot I just like the UK cover better, and I like how much it would match with my copy of The Kingdoms

So from the description, it looks like Dionysus is going to fully be a character??? Like interacting directly with Phaidros??? Is it like a Percy Jackson scenario where they have like human forms and shit??? Inch resting.

It makes me SO HAPPY seeing the list of Natasha Pulley's work almost takes up a full page at the front of my book

The new narration style is very interesting tbh, I don't know if it's because he's supposed to be a child at this point and children are a lot more straightforward, or if it's just how he always is???

The prologue sounds a lot more like the typical narration style so I think it probably is meant to be a bit more childlike in the beginning

Maybe this is me being delusional but...is she talking about the pulleyverse as a whole in the prologue??? Starting in the middle, with bits artfully left out to Reveal Unto You Later??? Is this like the very beginning??? It is the earliest chronologically so ig it must be???

"But I was distracted by a green bird and money was boring" HE'S SO REAL FOR THAT-

I'm liking the way that everything is being explained upfront. It's probably out of necessity since the average person can conceptualize life in Victorian London or Soviet Russia a lot easier than Ancient Greece, but it also does feel a lot more child-like that really hammers home the idea that the story is in its beginning

Wait wait wait, Helios is 15??? I've been picturing him as a grown man this whole time??? Damn this is about to get sad.

This is probably going to be my shortest live read yet because I'm already getting so invested that I can't keep up

Also Helios and Agave using a KITE for the lightning rod to get rid of the baby gave very much Agatha and Missouri vibes. She's also used the word "filigree" like four times now. Inch Resting.

I really don't know how to word this eloquently but the ship turning into pear trees that eventually saved Phaidros' life reminds me of the mechanical pear tree Thaniel took from the workshop, and how Grace made the workers cut them down, and all that fun stuff. Surely that wasn't the original intention (unless Ms. Pulley is playing the long game), but the connections make me happy

Also Phaidros lowkey hallucinating for a decade because he was in such close contact with a god is giving The Salt Miracles a little bit.

Pls Phaidros is such a dad with his little knights I adore himb

My brother in christ how is your biggest op a 15 year old kid named Jason-

I like the way the narration style slowly shifts to a more adult tone while keeping the overall personality consistent (Natasha Pulley best writer on earth confirmed???)

So does Agave remember Phaidros at all??? Does she know that him breaking rank is what caused Helios to die??? Does she know that it was him and Helios who stole the baby she wanted dead??? Pls I need to know

I hope to god there are wlw in this book. Idk why I've been thinking that but I WILL start foaming at the mouth.

"...even Jason, unfortunately, failed to vaporize" MY BROTHER IN CHRIST-

Are the marvels the same sort of thing as the statues from tbs??? Helios assumed they had gears and shit but nobody has ever opened them to check???

He made Phaidros-specific sign language for "where the fuck is Jason" WHY IS YOUR BIGGEST OP A CHILD-

Wrong, he has two ops; Jason and all of Athens.

I’ve tried explaining why age gaps in the pulleyverse are generally not the toxic evil kind that people generally dismiss without a second thought, but most of the time it comes off long-winded and defensive when I don’t mean to be defensive. The way Phaidros describes his partnership with Helios just gave me the PERFECT way to word it tho: Pulley is extremely aware of the way age gaps can affect both people in a relationship, and she really does not shy away from the insecurity it brings out in people, making it very realistic and easy to empathise with while not falling back onto toxic stereotypes

“…I said, with evil in my heart.” SOLIDARITY MY BROTHER!!!

Take a shot every time the word “filigree” comes up jesus christ-

Phaidros is a little PRICK leading that guard around on errands instead of doing anything useful, I love himb sm

He gave him a mask??? Welcome to the cult of Dionysus babey

“…and I would make him eat his fucking mask” GIRL CHILLLLL MY GOODNESS

“Make him eat his mask” my brother in Christ he made you eat your WORDS!!! And now you’re in PRISON!!! Dumb bitch (affectionate)

Lowkey I’m LIVING for the chaotic x orderly dynamic they have going on, I think it’s hilarious and very cute (but also I like the idea that over time Phaidros will learn to let loose more and Dionysus will develop more of a sense of duty and honour)

“He sounded genuinely cheerful, the bastard.” I fucking LOVE Phaidros being a grumpy bitch, thank you Ms. Pulley’s brother for convincing her to make him more of a bitch

“…he would take that as a hilarious challenge and try to lick me.” PLS WHY DO YOU THINK HE’S A DOG-

Also is his name not actually Dionysus??? Does he have like a birth name and then decide to become Dionysus permanently??? This vow is 100% getting broken and I’ll definitely find out but I must say I’m interested af now

Imagine how awful it would be if you came back from a war and the government was so “happy” with your performance they forced three creepy strangers to live in your house. That’s so fucked.

Wait wait wait, didn’t a pack of wolves in tbs die the same way as the wolf and the fox here??? My theory about the marvels is looking pretty good 👀👀👀

Is Dionysus doing all of this??? And, better question, is he AWARE he’s doing all this??? Because it seems to me like he genuinely has no clue what all the stuff with the wine and the madness is, but those are quite literally the hallmarks of Dionysus, and he seemed very aware of the ship turning to ivy and all that jazz??? I’m very confused

WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S GHOSTS IN THE FOG 😀😀😀 WHAT’S THAT ABOUT 😀😀😀

Chemicals in the ground are making people sick…but it’s actually a god…hmmm…it’s giving alternate thlovk ending…

“…where is this rancid shame coming from, who did this to you?” I’M LEVITATING

I haven’t counted the pages yet but I think Phaidros is the new record holder for “pulleyverse narrators refraining from mentioning their love interest” which is fun.

…well now I feel bad for calling the triplets creepy

I’m slightly more than halfway through the book now and that makes me extremely sad, I don’t want to be finished with it

Wait is Katsu like…a mini marvel??? Is that pretty much what he is??? And they just put him in a little fish tank and let him take socks and have beef with next door’s cat???

(I got wrapped up again and am almost finished oops)

So Phaidros canonically has never seen his reflection in a mirror in his life, and we STILL have more canon information about what he looks like than Thaniel. That’s so fucking funny to me-

Okay!!! Book finished!!! And…holy shit!!! I forget how genuinely blown away I can be by Natasha Pulley’s writing until I read something new she’s written but my god was that good. It had almost an eldritch horror vibe to it while somehow also being pleasant that I really enjoyed??? And obviously I was a Percy Jackson kid (if you couldn’t tell by the everything about me) so I’m thrilled about the Ancient Greek elements and the elements of stories I could recognise from all that strewn throughout. But the characters were utterly and completely brilliant, the story was so expertly crafted, and obviously this is standard with Ms Pulley but it’s just especially poignant rn. I don’t think I can be more eloquent at the moment but. Yeah. 100000/10, no notes (except there were quite a few spelling mistakes in my copy but I kinda love it)

Edit a few days later: the way I completely thought I got this post out of my drafts 🧎‍♀️‍➡️anyways no new opinions really, the aftg worms are still eating my brain, but I really REALLY want to get back into doing my pulleyverse headcanon posts so if anyone wants to send me any requests I would be very grateful.

[summahsunlight]

Perhaps It's Fate, Part 26

Rating: T, to be safe

Word Count: 2,142

Summary: After joining the Resistance as a mechanic, you were happy to keep to yourself, until a little orange and white bb unit and his master wander into your workshop one day.

Pairings: Poe Dameron x Mechanic!Reader

Start from the beginning!

Taglist: @ms-dont-care​, @starless-eyes-remain​, @elmoakepoke​, @marvelobsessiononastick​, @kiaralein​, @softly-sad​, @totalpoedameron, @ordinarymom1​, @sevvysaurus​, @spider-starry​, @liadamerondjarin​, @jingyuhearteu​, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling​, @paintballkid711​, @ren-ni​, @lostinwonderland314​, @elite4cekalyma​,@elisabethbathgate​, @imabeautifulbutterfly

I'm back! I know it's been FOREVER. I hope this new chapter is worth it :) Reblogs, comments, etc. are appreciated!

Poe knew he had royally screwed up.  He knew the moment you tearfully fled the command center. He knew he should have gone after you, to look for you immediately. 

Instead, he stayed. You would come around eventually and seek him out when you ready. Poe could almost bank on this--so he was a bit surprised when he left the extremely long briefing with Leia--you were no where to be found. In fact, no one had seen you for hours. Not even BB-8, who always managed to find you to make sure you were alright.

He needed to find you. He couldn’t leave on the next mission without talking to you--there was a very real chance he wouldn’t come back from this mission and the last thing he wanted was for your last memory of him to be him angry and telling you to leave.  But the longer he looked for you, the more Poe was beginning to believe that you had left. Rushing back to the command center he cornered the unsuspecting communications officer and demanded to know if you had boarded the last transport off planet.

“The last transport went to Mon Cal, sir,” the officer reported. 

“Was she on it?” Poe growled, desperately.

“I’m not sure, I can pull up the passenger manifest.”

“Then pull it up!”

Fear flashed through the officer’s eyes before he quickly got to work on the commander’s request. Poe anxiously paced behind him. What if you had really gone? What was he going to do? There was no time to chase after you--he needed to leave soon--the Resistance needed to find that way finder so they could end this war once and for all--and there was literally no time to spare.

Briefly he thought about letting Finn and Rey go--she could pilot, he’d seen her skills, but damn it--they were both so green when it came to missions. Perhaps an ounce of military training between them and he was being lenient on Finn’s training with the First Order. He’d been trained to just follow orders, never think for himself...

...the communication’s officer cleared his throat, alerting Poe that he was done with his task. Poe stopped pacing and nervously swallowed. “Well?”

“Her name wasn’t on the manifest, sir.”

“Great. That means she’s still here on base.”

“Not...not necessarily. If she was a last minute passenger...”

“What do you mean by that?”

The officer took a deep breath, winced slightly as he replied, “The crew might not have put her name on the final manifest that they passed off to us because that would have meant having to resubmit all their flight plans again and delayed their departure. It happens all the time, sir. I’m surprised you didn’t know about that.”

Poe felt like he had been punched in the gut. You were gone; with his intense desire to protect you, to give you the life you deserved--he’d pushed you away, probably for good. Before he could even think straight, he asked when he could get clearance to take off. He was going to Mon Cal, he was going after you--the mission, the Resistance be damned.

****

If you were being honest with yourself, you were devastated that Poe didn’t show up to stop you from getting on the transport. Well, it's not like you told him that you were actually leaving, you thought, bitterly, wiping at the tears in your eyes.

Or perhaps he didn't love you as much as you thought he did. Maybe he really did want you to go. Somehow, you managed to beg your way onto the transport to Mon Cal--the last one to leave base that afternoon--despite not being on the original passenger manifest. The crew seemed annoyed by that; apparently they didn't want to add your name and delay departure. You suggested they didn't add your name--you didn't want to be found or followed.

"Fair enough," the captain said with a shrug. "Get on board."

One last glance to see if Poe had emerged from the base; one last little bit of hope dashed when you didn't see him. He doesn't love you, you're such an idiot for ever believing it.

Crying, silently, you found a hidden spot on the transport. No one could watch your fall apart back here, behind a large crate. There had been some questioning eyes when you boarded, however, no one actually said anything to you. For all they knew, you were on a mission for the Resistance--not trying to get away from the man that had broken your heart into a million little pieces.

At least now Poe was free from the burden that you were. He got put all of his attention on the war and the Resistance--he could find someone that could take care of his heart better than you. He could have that peaceful life after the war was over with someone else; he could bring that person home to his father and proudly introduce them--he could parade them around Yavin IV with pride beaming in his brown eyes--he could have the life he deserved.

You had been living a dream with him, a dream that you had to wake up from eventually.

"Sorry folks," a voice said, making you realize someone had been speaking. "We're experiencing some mechanical problems; they're working on it but our departure is going to be delayed."

A low rumble spread throughout the cabin as the passengers grumbled about the delay--you felt a little bit of relief--you weren't entirely sure you wanted to leave the Resistance behind, after all you had made some friends here and you wanted to help. You told yourself that if Finn, Rose or Rey were aware that you thinking of leaving--they would have come to stop you

Familiar beeps echoed across the base and from your hiding spot you were able to glance up and see Poe, rushing to his fighter--rushing off on another mission not rushing to make sure you didn't walk out of his life forever.

****

Poe stormed towards his fighter, BB-8 on his heels. If he hurried he could get to Mon Cal not long after the transport--that would give him enough time to find you and tell you that he was sorry, that he was so in love with you that he was terrified he was going to be the reason you died.

BB-8 was screeching at him and Poe spun about on his heel, ready to shout at the little droid that they were wasting time--until he saw what the droid had been trying to tell him--the transport had not left yet. You weren't gone after all. He could see a team of mechanics working on the ship, the passengers had disembarked and were milling about waiting for the opportunity to reboard and be on their way. His deep brown eyes scanned the crowd looking for you and his heart sank when he didn't see you at first--and then, he caught sight of you, the sunlight catching in your hair...

...Poe took off like a shot, dodging in and out of workers and ships trying to reach you.

As he got closer, he called out your name and when you looked up at him, his heart shattered. He would never get the image of you, eyes swollen from crying, the devastation reflecting back at him--and then the realization that he had been the one to do this to you. Not the First Order, not Kylo Ren or General Hux--but him.

You ducked into the brush behind you and disappeared. Poe clenched his fists as a pair of mechanics, unaware of what was going, stepped in his path, blocking him from following you into the jungle. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his shoulder and pushed his way passed the mechanics and then into the jungle.

He saw you running up ahead on the path. Poe caught up to quickly, gently grabbing your wrist and pulling you back towards him. "Please, sweetheart, please don't go," he begged. "I didn't mean it--I regret that I even put the thought in your head."

Violently, you yanked your hand back, noticing that Poe's hand dropped to his side and that his shoulders sank a little. "Why should I stay? It's been hours since we got back from that mission, hours since you told me to leave--now all of a sudden you regret that?"

"I regretted it immediately," Poe whispered.

"Sure you did," you snapped at him, tears running down your cheeks.

"I did; I should have followed you, I should have told you..."

"But you didn't Poe! Just admit it--you don't love me!"

Poe felt sick to his stomach. Even if he convinced you to stay, would you even want to stay with him? He was about to lose you, he knew it from the bottom of his heart. "Is that what you think? That I don't love you?"

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you sharply nodded your head. "Isn't it obvious? You've been so angry at me--I'm a burden to you--I'm in the way of your work with the Resistance. I'm a nobody, Poe, just... just got back to base and forget about me. It's just better this way."

"Better? You think this is better? Breaking both our hearts like this?"

"You'll find someone else! Someone better!"

"There's that word again! I don't want better! There is no one better! I want you!"

Drawing your arms around yourself, you hugged your shaking body, tightly. Tears freely streamed down your cheeks and you felt him take a step closer to you. "Poe," you pleaded with him, "please, please don't make this harder."

Poe heard his commlink going off; Finn must have been looking for him, but he couldn't leave on that mission--not now--he could not leave the base without making sure you'd be there when he returned. He took another step towards you, making the small space between you even smaller. "I know...I know I haven't...I've been terrible towards you recently. Angry. But it's not you I'm angry at, sweetheart. I hate this whole situation. I hate that I can't give you a safe place to call home, I hate that every time I leave--I might not come back to you. But I have never, ever stopped loving you. Please, sweetheart, you have to believe me when I say that."

You shook your head; why couldn't he just let this go? Why couldn't he see it the way you saw it? It was better this way--even if he now hated that word. "Just go on your mission, Poe. It's more important than me. Just forget me."

"No," he said, softly, firmly.

"No?" you repeated, looking at him through watery eyes.

"I'm not going to just forget about you."

"You should; you'll be able to focus on your mission."

Heavily sighing, Poe closed the last little bit of space between you. His fingers ghosted along your arms before he gently grasped your wrists in his strong hands. "You are my mission, sweetheart. Bringing an end to the First Order, bringing peace to the galaxy--making sure it's safe for you--that's my mission. I have to go on this mission with Finn and Rey--if we don't find a way to stop the reborn Emperor and the Final Order--there will never be peace. Promise me, you'll be here when I get back."

Crying, you buried your face against his shirt and you felt one of his hands let go of your wrist and his arm snake around your waist. You couldn't manage any words, just a simple nod of your head.

Poe pulled back, kissing your forehead. His comm was going off once again and he knew he couldn't delay any longer. "Promise me," he whispered, now kissing your lips softly. His hand holding onto to your wrist let go and his thumb wiped your tears away. "Sweetheart, please."

You sniffled, a few more fresh tears falling. "I...I promise...I'll be here when you get back."

Letting you go, Poe stepped back. His eyes locked with yours as he answered his comm and said he was on his way. Reaching underneath his scarf, he pulled the chain from around his neck. You saw the gold of his mother's wedding ring reflecting the sunlight and then he slipped the chain around your neck. "Keep this safe for me?"

"Shara's ring? I'll...I'll make sure it's safe."

"I love you; I'll say as often as I have too until you believe it. And then I'll keep saying it so you remember it."

Clutching tightly to the ring, you stood there while he kissed you, making another promise to come back to you and reassuring you once again that he did love you. Then he was gone--heading back through the jungle--leaving you standing behind, silently tears running down your cheeks.

Promise me, Poe, that you'll come back.

[missexiled]

I Would

A Lucifer x Reader Fic

A.N. I am so sorry about the lack of posts. Next up will be a Vox x Reader, probably with yandere vibes because that seems to be a point of interest. Let me know if any of you have ideas, requests, headcanons, etc I’d love to hear from you all

A fight with Reader’s mentor goes wrong and Lucifer helps them pick up the pieces.

It wasn’t new. The whole “taking someone in to mold them in their image”. I knew it wasn’t the healthiest. How she would correct anything that wasn’t in the way she wanted. Posture, wording, smile, emotions. Anything. But I’m her favorite. I’ve never been someone’s favorite.

She took me in. She taught me. How to survive. How to thrive in Hell. I couldn’t just… leave. She didn’t have my soul, but she didn’t need it. I was her child. Her favorite.

I needed her. And she needed me.

Right?

————

This hotel was a waste. There would be nothing to come from this. Just the opportunity to get close to Miss Princess. And who better to send than her protégée?

“Dear.”

They perked up, “Yes, miss?”

A small smile, straight posture, slight exhaustion showing, but she’ll excuse it.

She lifted their chin, looking them over, “Have you heard about the little hotel Ms. Morningstar is hosting?”

“No, miss. Would you like me to look into it?”

She smiled, gently patting the side of their cheek, “No need. I just need you to go and watch over. The Morningstars would be a valuable asset if you can win over the princess. Can you do that for me?”

They nodded, their smile never fading, “Of course, miss.”

“Good.”

————

Oh fuck.

I’m screwed.

She asked one simple thing. Get close to Charlie Morningstar. And I did that.

But she’s so… nice. How is the princess of Hell so nice?

I thought it was a ruse to convince sinners to come, try to redeem themselves, and then she would swoop in and make a deal. Her assistance for… something

But no. She’s just nice.

Nice.

Not just her. Vaggie and her awkward but genuine assistance, Angel with his comfort, Husk with his advice, Pen with his little gifts, Al with his gentle words, Nif with her roach-themed crowns, and Lucifer.

The root of the problem.

King of Hell. Lucifer Morningstar. Leader of the Pride Ring.

An absolute nerd. Adorable dork. Duck enthusiast.

“Hey! I finished Charlie’s gift, but I think something is missing. What do you think?”

He sat on the counter as I stayed in my seat. He continued listing off how he made the duck. What kind it was, what he thought was cool about it, and then some.

And I couldn’t focus on a damn thing he said.

“What do you think?”

That stupid smile. When was the last time I saw a genuine smile outside of this fucked up hotel?

I smiled softly as I gazed at him, “It’s perfect.”

He nodded, his view focused on the duck, “Okay. I trust you.”

Trust me. That’s stupid. This is Hell, you can’t trust anyone.

“Actually, maybe a bow tie?”

He lit up, giving me that bright smile again, “Perfect! This is why I come to you.”

He hopped off to go to his workshop. I just sat there and watched him leave like some lovesick puppy.

Pathetic.

“Heya, toots.”

“Don’t you even say it.”

Angel sat down next to me with the usual shit-eating grin, “Say what? That you two should just fuck already?”

My head hit the counter.

“Look,” he sighed, “I know how… she can be. But you shouldn’t let that bi- er, let her rule your life.”

I stayed silent.

She was everything. She gave me everything. How could I leave her for something as stupid as an emotion?

Angel sighed, rubbing my back.

————

He knew he couldn’t talk. He fought back to Val and he got a bloody nose and a death sentence.

But he was his favorite. Val wouldn’t kill him, but damnit he would prefer it.

————

“But dad, she does! Everybody sees it!”

Lucifer fidgeted with his old wedding ring.

He hadn’t worn it for a over month.

Was it really that long ago?

“I don’t know, Charlie. She’s too…”

“Too?”

He sighed dramatically as he leaned back, looking over his actual latest duck. He only showed them his ‘Charlie duck’ because he wanted to talk to them.

Hell, he was pathetic…

He had been married before. He should know how to be smooth.

Granted, she left him. For some reason she seemed to forget to share. Out of nowhere. Leaving him alone. With Charlie. A daughter that she purposefully tried to seperate him from… But she loved him. At least once.

Right?

“But you guys are so cute,” Charlie pouted as she leaned back on his bed, throwing her hands in the air, “I look over and you’re looking at her with that huge smile and they look back when you look away and it’s all so close but you won’t say anything and they won’t say anything and-”

A knock on the door paused her ramble, “Babe? You in there? Alastor has something he wants to show you.”

Charlie perked up, “Oh, uh…”

She looked to her dad, to which he nodded with a small smile. She smiled back and left, giving him a thumbs up.

————

The duck was similar to the others. A likeness to them, but there was a small golden apple on their head.

He couldn’t explain why he wanted to add it. But they looked good in gold. And the apple was his staple.

It definitely wasn’t his subconscious wanting to see them with a golden ring. And it certainly wasn’t him wanting a matching one.

Of course not.

————

She was smiling. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Darling, I don’t usually ask much of you. But this?” She held up the small duck, “I thought you were better than this.”

How the fuck did she find that?

“Normally,” she walked down towards me, looking over the duck, “I would have you removed from that little hotel. But if you could get the King of Hell waiting on you, then-“

“No.”

…

What the fuck did I just do?

“No?”

I paused. I was glaring at her. When did I do that? I bowed my head, trying to regain whatever respect I had left.

“I… my apologies, miss. But…”

She took a few more steps, “But?” Lifting my chin she made me look at her, “Tell me. Why is my favorite darling refusing me something so simple?”

Favorite.

A chill ran down my spine. Stiff, nervous, afraid.

Afraid?

Why should I be afraid? I’m her favorite. She said so.

Favorite.

“I don’t…” I cleared my throat, “I shouldn’t. I… He’d figure me out. He might be out of the field, but he’s not stupid.”

It was true.

She stared me down. I wasn’t telling her the real reason and she knew it. She knew it. She knew me.

“Fine.”

I looked up, confused, “Wha-”

“Either you do this for me,” she caressed my face, “or you leave. I can’t bare to see you become such a disgrace.” Her grip was tight.

A disgrace.

But I’m her favorite.

Aren’t I?

She’d forgive me. Just this once.

Right?

“You don’t have to respond,” she pat my cheek as she started to walk away, “but if you don’t come back with a good status report, don’t bother coming back at all.”

Nearly 20 minutes passed before I could move.

————

“Hello?”

They hadn’t responded to anything. Charlie hadn’t seen them so… out of it. She’d seen Angel Dust like this once when Val had his… fun. But them? They had their soul. Did something happen? Did they need a hug?

“Do you want-”

They walked past me. It was like they couldn’t see me.

Weird.

————

How did he get here?

They were hugging him like a small stuffed animal. Their face in his neck and-

Fuck. When was the last time someone was this close to him? Comfortably close. It felt like years. It felt nice. He felt nice.

He felt safe.

His ducks made him feel safe. He always had his ducks.

He thought Lilith made him feel safe. She made him feel excited, happy, even confident at times. But never safe.

So what was different?

Well, for one, they were sobbing earlier. They couldn’t talk, so he sat next to them and offered a hug. It’s easy to see what happened next.

He started running the tips of his fingers up and down their back, holding them just a bit tighter.

“It’ll be okay,” he sighed, kissing their forehead, “I got you.”

————

“I got you.”

It was so gentle.

I got you.

He did. He was right there for me.

Why?

Did I even deserve it?

Why does he care so much?

Did he want something from me?

No, that’s not him.

That I know.

So…

Why?

————

They fell asleep.

On him.

They never sleep in front of people.

Maybe he’s overthinking it. Maybe they’re just really tired. Maybe they just needed a quick fix.

That’s it. Of course it is. Nobody needs him. Not for long. Just enough to get by and get something better.

Something better than-

“Luci?”

Luci?

He liked having a nickname.

He pulled their hair out of their face, “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

…

“Anything.”

The, I’d do anything for you, died on his tongue.

————

“Anything.”

Why?

Why me?

Why him?

Was I worth it?

“Hey.”

I hummed, still not able to talk.

“She’s not worth it.”

What?

“I’ve seen you, known you, for months. You don’t need to keep yourself waiting on someone who doesn’t care about you,” he sighed. His hand pulled them closer to him. “You deserve someone who loves you. If they love you, they won’t try to change you.”

“And who the Hell do you know would do that? This is Hell, Lucifer.”

“I would.”

…

“What?”

“What?”

[gumballavocadoharry]

You break it, I'll fix it!

Yn's thoughts seemed to drag on the more the teacher's lips moved 50 words a minute. Mr. Walcurst, didn't really seem to know how to entertain his students with his long lectures of mechanics and engineering in the same way he would demonstrate techniques with different machines he had brought in.

Yn's head was seated on top of her her crossed arms that were neatly settled on her desk; barricading her opened notebook that had only a few scribbled notes and sketches that she claimed helped with her memory in tests and assignments. "Yn?" Her head shot up to the piercing eyes of the bygone teacher. "Can you tell us what the answer to number four is?"

"Yn?"

Her head shot up, the sudden sound cutting through the droning monologue. Mr. Walcurst stood at the front of the lecture hall, his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lights, his eyes, sharp and unforgiving, fixed directly on her. He was a walking paradox – brilliant in his field, a master of the machine, yet utterly devoid of the ability to translate that passion into engaging instruction. Lectures were a marathon of technical jargon, delivered at a pace that left most students gasping for air, or, in Yn's case, using her arms as a makeshift pillow.

"Can you tell us what the answer to number four is?" His voice was flat, devoid of warmth, the kind of tone that could curdle milk.

Yn’s mind scrambled. Number four? The only numbers she’d processed in the last ten minutes were the ones marking her growing boredom. She glanced down at her notebook, the few scattered notes offering no salvation. A faint flush crept up her neck. "I… I'm sorry, Mr. Walcurst. I seem to have missed that part."

A collective ripple went through the class – a mix of pity and silent commiseration. Mr. Walcurst merely sighed, a theatrical sound of weary disappointment that felt disproportionately heavy. "Perhaps if you were paying attention, Ms. Yn, you wouldn't miss crucial information," he stated, the implication hanging heavy in the air. He turned away before she could stammer another apology, calling on someone else.

Yn sank back into her seat, mortification burning in her cheeks. It wasn't that she didn't want to learn. She did. Engineering was fascinating, a puzzle of physics and ingenuity. But Mr. Walcurst's method felt less like learning and more like enduring a verbal battering ram.

The rest of the lecture was a blur of technical terms and diagrams she couldn't follow. The only thing that solidified in her mind was the announcement of the next major assignment: designing and building a working pulley system capable of lifting a specific weight. It had to be physically demonstrated and submitted next week. A knot of dread formed in her stomach. Pulleys. Simple in concept, maybe, but the mechanics and structural integrity felt like a mountain she was ill-equipped to climb.

After class, Yn hurried out, the air cool on her flushed face. The university grounds were bustling, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of the lecture hall. She needed coffee, and she needed to wrap her head around this pulley, and more importantly, around Mr. Walcurst's palpable disapproval.

Back in her cozy, meticulously organized apartment, the dread intensified. Textbooks lay open on her desk, diagrams of levers and ropes staring back at her like cryptic runes. She gathered materials – a few scraps of wood, some string, various potential wheels she’d repurposed from old toys and appliances. Hours bled into one another. Her apartment, usually a haven of calm, became a workshop of frustration.

Attempt one: The wheel wobbled precariously, the string slipping off. Attempt two: The frame buckled under the slightest tension. Attempt three: The whole contraption collapsed spectacularly, sending pieces scattering across the floor.

With each failure, Walcurst’s disappointed sigh echoed in her mind. She wasn't stupid; she was intelligent, methodical, and usually capable. But this… this felt insurmountable. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes. Why couldn't she grasp this? Why did it feel so endlessly complicated?

She slumped onto her couch, staring at the scattered remnants of her failed attempts. Her gaze fell upon her laptop, still open to the class forum. Scrolling through, she saw a few posts about the assignment, mostly complaints about the difficulty. Then, a name caught her eye: Harry.

She remembered the ease with which he seemed to grasp everything, the way his eyes lit up when talking about mechanics, even in the dry confines of Walcurst’s class. He was the class genius, effortlessly navigating the very concepts that were drowning her.

Asking for help went against every fiber of her independent, cautious nature. And asking him? The eccentric inventor who seemed to live on a different plane of existence. The idea felt awkward, maybe even embarrassing. What if he thought she was stupid? What if he was as dismissive as Walcurst, just in a different, perhaps kinder, way?

But the deadline loomed, a guillotine poised over her academic standing. Swallowing her pride, and the last reserves of her self-reliance on this issue, Yn pulled out her laptop. She found the class roster, located his name – Harry Styles– and his university email address.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. What to write? "Help, I'm an idiot and can't make a pulley?" She finally settled on something simple, direct, and hopefully not too revealing of her utter helplessness.

Subject: Engineering 201 - Pulley Assignment

Hi Harry,

We're in Mr. Walcurst's engineering class together. I'm really struggling with the pulley system assignment. I've spent hours on it, but I can't seem to get it to work or fully understand the practical mechanics.

I was wondering, since you seem to have a good handle on this stuff, if you might possibly be willing to spare a little time to help me out? No worries at all if you're busy, I completely understand.

Thanks, Yn Ln

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Relief warred with anxiety. Now she just had to wait.

The reply came surprisingly fast, pinging into her inbox less than ten minutes later.

Subject: Re: Engineering 201 - Pulley Assignment

Hi Yn,

Absolutely! I'd be delighted to try and help. Pulley systems are quite elegant once you see how the forces distribute. Sometimes wrestling with the materials helps more than diagrams alone.

Are you free sometime tomorrow? I have a workshop setup at my place that might be easier to work in than an apartment desk. Lots of bits and bobs if we need them.

Let me know what time works for you!

Best, Harry

His response was just as she expected – warm, kind, and slightly… unique. "Bits and bobs." A workshop setup? It sounded less like a student's room and more like a real inventor's lair. Despite her nervousness, a spark of hope ignited.

Across the room, she saw him. Harry. The guy everyone privately (and sometimes not-so-privately) referred to as ‘the eccentric genius.’ He had a mane of dark brown hair that brushed his neck, often slightly disheveled, and striking green eyes that seemed to hold a perpetual flicker of curiosity. While others wrestled with equations, Harry would be sketching fantastical contraptions in his notebook or humming softly to himself, oblivious to the classroom tension.

He answered Mr. Walcurst’s most challenging questions with an almost casual insight, often offering alternative, elegant solutions that left the professor momentarily speechless before he’d gruffly acknowledge their validity. He felt utterly out of place in the rigid structure of the lecture hall, a free spirit bottled in a room of precise calculations. Yn had always found him… intriguing, yes, but also a little perplexing, like a complex equation she hadn't bothered to solve.

He wore mismatched clothes sometimes and had a habit of fiddling with strange gadgets in his hands. He rarely spoke unless directly addressed, and even then, his responses were often unexpected, bordering on brilliant yet delivered with an almost childlike enthusiasm that sometimes threw people off.

He was definitely eccentric, maybe even socially awkward, but Mr. Walcurst, for all his harshness, seemed to treat Harry with a degree of grudging respect when he did contribute, which was usually to offer a surprisingly insightful solution to a complex problem the rest of the class floundered with.

***********************************

Harry's 'place' turned out to be a small, slightly cluttered house with a surprisingly large toolshed in the backyard. This, she quickly realized, was the legendary 'workshop'. Stepping inside was like entering another dimension. Tools hung on every available surface, shelves overflowed with wires, gears, screws, and components she couldn't even name. A half-finished contraption involving springs and copper tubing sat on a workbench. The air smelled of metal, oil, and a faint, pleasant scent of sawdust. It was chaos, but a vibrant, organized chaos that spoke of constant creation.

He led her through a house that was indeed "lived-in" – stacks of books and papers covered surfaces, but everything felt intentional, like a mind in constant motion. The air was thick with the faint scent of coffee and something metallic she couldn't place.

The workshop was a revelation. It was a detached garage transformed into a vibrant, organized chaos. Tools hung neatly on pegboards, workbenches were covered in various projects in different stages of completion, and shelves overflowed with components, wires, and peculiar gadgets. It smelled of metal, wood, and something that reminded her faintly of burnt sugar. It was Harry’s world, a physical manifestation of the brilliant, free-spirited mind she’d only glimpsed in class.

"Wow," Yn breathed, genuinely impressed. "This is… amazing."

Harry himself was exactly as she remembered, only perhaps a little more vibrant in his own space. His green eyes lit up when he saw her. "Yn! Come in, come in! Mind the pile of solenoid here, almost broke my neck on it yesterday. So, the pulley!" He gestured excitedly towards a clear space on the main workbench. "Show me what you've tried, tell me about the issues."

Yn, feeling a little awkward but disarmed by his immediate warmth, laid out her dismantled attempts and explained her struggles. As she spoke, Harry didn't interrupt or judge. He listened intently, nodding, his brow furrowed in thought. He picked up a piece of her failed structure, examining it with a thoughtful hum.

"Ah, I see," he said gently. "The stress point here… you've got a shearing force on the axle; it needs more lateral support. And for the wheel material, cardboard will compress too much under load. You need something rigid, something that won't deform."

He didn't make her feel stupid. He simply pointed out technical details, explaining the physics behind them in a way that was clear, concise, and somehow, genuinely interesting. As they started working together, picking out materials from his vast collection – sturdy wood, a smooth metal rod for the axle, a solid plastic wheel – Yn began to relax.

Harry worked with a quiet, focused intensity, but his movements were gentle and precise. He patiently guided her hands, showing her how to measure, how to cut, how to join pieces securely. He explained the principles of mechanical advantage not like a dry textbook, but like revealing a fascinating secret about how the world worked.

"It's easy to get caught up in the equations and forget the simple physics. Think of it like this…"

He didn’t just tell her. He showed her. He used a sturdy beam in the workshop ceiling and a length of rope. He created a single fixed pulley, demonstrating how it only changed direction. Then he added a movable pulley, explaining the concept of sharing the load, the ropes supporting the weight. His explanations were clear, interspersed with quirky analogies that suddenly made perfect sense. He spoke of forces "holding hands" and mechanical advantage as "getting the ropes to do the heavy lifting for you."

As they worked, side-by-side at the workbench, Harry was incredibly patient. When Yn fumbled with a knot, he gently guided her hands, his touch brief and warm. When she looked confused, he’d pause, rephrase, or draw a quick, simple sketch on a scrap of wood with a pencil. He celebrated her small victories – a knot tied correctly, a wheel spinning freely on its axle – with genuine enthusiasm.

"See? You've got it!" he’d say, his smile infectious. "Just needed a little hands-on wrestling match."

Yn, initially tense and embarrassed by her lack of understanding, found herself relaxing. Harry’s kindness was disarming. His genius wasn’t intimidating; it was generous. He wasn’t just helping her pass an assignment; he was sharing his passion, inviting her into his world of mechanical wonders.

As the pulley system began to take shape under their combined efforts, Yn started seeing Harry in a new light. Beyond the kind eyes and gentle hands, she noticed the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the almost artistic way he handled the tools, the subtle enthusiasm that radiated from him when a concept clicked for her. He was more than just the 'weird genius' from class; he was warm, understanding, and incredibly sweet. The afternoon sun filtered through the dusty workshop windows, illuminating the motes dancing in the air around them, creating an almost magical atmosphere.

They talked as they worked. He asked about her interests outside of engineering, listened attentively to her answers, and shared stories about his own projects, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He talked about his dream of inventing things that made life easier, his optimistic belief in the power of ingenuity. Yn found herself laughing easily, drawn in by his free-spirited nature and genuine warmth.

With Harry's guidance, piece by piece, the pulley system came together. They tested it, lifting a small weight. It worked perfectly, the wheels turning smoothly, the rope running freely, reducing the effort required exactly as the calculations predicted.

"We did it!" Harry exclaimed, sounding as pleased as if it were his own project. He looked at Yn, his green eyes full of warmth and pride for her effort. "You figured it out."

Looking at him in that moment, flushed with the success of their creation and the unexpected joy of his company, Yn felt a different kind of mechanism click into place within her. It wasn't just gratitude she felt. It was admiration for his mind, affection for his gentle nature, and a undeniable pull, a sweet, burgeoning romantic feeling that had blossomed in the sawdust-filled air of his workshop. The 'weird' guy had transformed into something entirely wonderful.

Harry’s smile lingered, his gaze holding hers for a beat longer than necessary. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of vulnerability, a hint of unspoken feeling that mirrored her own sudden revelation. He seemed just as affected by the shared experience as she was. But then, almost imperceptibly, a familiar caution seemed to cloud his expression, and he gently released her gaze, turning to begin tidying up a few tools.

"So," he said, his voice returning to its easy gentleness, though perhaps with a faint tremor, "you should be all set for Walcurst now."

"Yes," Yn managed, her voice a little breathless. "Harry, thank you. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done."

"Anytime, Yn," he said, meeting her eyes again, his smile soft. "Seriously. Don't hesitate to ask if you ever get stuck again. It's easier to build things together."

Walking home that evening, the finished pulley system felt incredibly light in her bag compared to the complex, heavy emotions swirling inside her. She had gone to Harry’s house seeking help with a technical problem and had left having discovered a connection she hadn’t anticipated. She was undeniably, surprisingly, falling for the eccentric genius.

The next day in class, presenting her working pulley system to Mr. Walcurst felt anticlimactic after the profound shift in her personal world. Mr. Walcurst examined her work thoroughly, testing the mechanism with the weight. He checked her calculations, tugged on the rope.

"Satisfactory, Ms. Ln" he finally stated, his tone neutral, offering no praise but no further criticism either. "Meets the specified requirements."

A quiet wave of relief washed over Yn. She had passed. Thanks to Harry.

She glanced across the room. Harry was sketching quietly in his notebook, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips as Mr. Walcurst dismissed her. When her eyes met his, his smile widened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of their shared victory and the secret connection forged in his workshop.

They continued to see each other in class, the sterile air of Walcurst's lecture hall now humming with an unspoken awareness between them. Harry remained his kind, gentle, eccentric self, occasionally offering Yn a subtle smile across the room or a quiet word about the lecture after class. Yn, usually cautious and reserved, found herself gravitating towards him, lingering after class, asking him questions about the material she now understood, just to have an excuse to talk.

The romantic feelings she had developed for Harry pulsed beneath the surface of her interactions with him. She saw the subtle signs of his reciprocal interest – the way his eyes lingered on her, the slight blush that sometimes dusted his cheeks when she paid him a compliment, the genuine pleasure he took in her company. Yet, neither of them acted on it. Yn, mature and cautious, was hesitant to potentially complicate their academic lives or risk the warmth of their newfound friendship.

The rest of Mr. Walcurst's lectures still felt like a challenge, but now, Yn had something new to look forward to. Glancing back at Harry, she realized that the path of engineering had just become infinitely more interesting, illuminated by the quiet brilliance and unexpected warmth of the 'weird' guy with the kind green eyes.

[kitcat992]

Identity Within︱Chapter 12 - Wedding Crashers (PREVIEW)

“No!”

Peter’s shoes came to a screeching halt against the parking garage pavement. Any harder and he was sure they would’ve caught on fire.

“No, no — c’mon, no!” His index finger tapped relentlessly and repetitively against the device, practically smashing his bone against the already cracked screen — if his outburst caused more damage along the way, he honestly wouldn’t have known. “You had enough juice left to turn on! C’mon, turn on!”

As many times as Peter tried, the little bit of ghost power he managed to capture was all but gone. It didn’t matter what button he pressed, how long he pressed it for, how many times he smashed his fist against the screen — definitely causing a crack that time.

“Turn on again, please turn on again, please please please just turn on again!”

The parking garage captured his voice in an echo.

It was the only response to his plea.

Peter ran a shaky hand through his hair, careless to how the fidget in his fingers messed up the style he had perfectly created earlier that morning. A large strand fell in front of his eyes; undoing hours of work and almost blocking his view of the black screen from the device held in his hand.

The reflection of his face against the dead cell phone was almost enough to make him say a very, very bad word.

This was not good.

This was not good at all.

“Oh, Mr. Stark’s going to kill me.” Peter threw his head back with a groan that rattled every rib bone in his chest. And yet still, not even that was enough to vocalize how bad things were.

Bad was running late for Mr. Stark’s wedding — a wedding that over a year ago he would’ve never dreamed to be invited to, let alone be a part of the ceremony. Bad was running even more late because he couldn’t find where the groom’s suite was, and bad was needing the bride to walk him there, inducing an amount of embarrassment he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from.

Bad was even forgetting how to dress his tie — but this?

Losing Mr. Stark’s wedding rings?

Peter’s face grimaced tight enough that his eyes squeezed shut and his eyelids felt like were starting to rip apart. Mr. Stark had made those wedding rings. He couldn’t believe he lost those rings, the same rings he watched Mr. Stark personally handcraft — handcraft with material that wasn’t exactly something he could pick up at any ‘ol store, as if the rings could be easily replaced and remade.

The thought was harsh enough that Peter could feel his teeth ground even harder together.

He knew those rings came from the arc reactor that got Mr. Stark home from Afghanistan.

He knew all about how Pepper was the one to insist Mr. Stark keep it, turning it into a memento that stayed with them throughout the duration of their relationship.

During their first lab nights together, Peter would always catch eye of it across Mr. Stark’s workshop, in awe of what he got to see in person — always noticing how the lights created a glare against the words that were encased safely inside a glass box — ‘Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart’ always on display, up until now.

He had to find those rings.

“Okay, I have like….twelve minutes to figure this out. I just need to find whatever room Ms. Potts was in, and then retrace my steps from there.” Peter squeezed his phone tightly, while his other hand scratched roughly at his head — any hopes of maintaining his hairstyle long gone by now. “This can’t be too hard, right? I just gotta remember which direction May went before we split up…”

While the parking garage was barely a minute’s walk to the cathedral, Peter knew once he got back to the church, any direction could lead him just about anywhere. He’d already wound up lost in the building before, now he didn’t have a single second to waste finding his way around the building.

The parking garage went one of two ways. Peter looked left, then right, then left again, before—

—a sharp tingle sent goosebumps throughout his skin—

— Peter spun around, instinctively, impulsively, without thought—

“—sleeeeeeeeeepppp.”

A hand yanked at the back of his head, tugging at his hair, forcing him still as something pressed firmly against his mouth — sealed around his mouth, leaving no room for fumes to escape anywhere else but inside the depths of his lungs.

Peter’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his knees slowly sank to the ground, eventually collapsing onto the pavement; with the hold he had on his cell phone growing weak and lax, until it fell away from him completely.

His vision went as black as the cracked screen of his phone.

[sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people]

Tony basically scaring his kid during the whole Iron Man 2 movie because of his self destroying tendencies (becoming Iron Man, blood toxicity, leaving his job at S.I, the race car incident, his crazy birthday party…). Obviously the kid is scared! So his daughter stays at Pepper’s maybe for the meantime he is trying to heal and create that new element, but he eventually ends up going to her to apologize and take her back home because he can’t live without his baby girl with him

Cant live without you

Summary: tony becomes reckless, but apologies

Warnings: tony being reckless, crying, y/n being afraid she is not loved,

A/N: sorry it took me so long to get to this reqs. It was amazing 👏 I don't think I did justice to it.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

You loved your father, yes. But it became hard as he began to be very reckless. It had been weeks since he had even spoken to you.

He was your best friend. And he suddenly stopped speaking and spending time with you. You were beyond confused, especially since you were only 8 at the time.

You had a terrible day at school. And you would have gone to tony about it, but you didn't think he would even listen. So you went to happy, who was the one who picked you up because your dad was "too buzy".

"Happy?" You said, getting his attention.

"Yeah kid" he said looking away from the road to glance at you, then ultimately back to the road.

"I had a bad day, can i talk about it?" You asked sadly.

"Of course, go ahead" then you began to ramble on and on about your terrible day. Happy, unlike tony, listened to every word that came out of your mouth.

When you arrived at the Malibu house, you headed straight to your room. Not expecting anyone to be there, but when you walked in you were greeted by pepper, sitting on your bed casually.

"Hey pep" you said walking into the large bedroom. She noticed how your eyes were drooped, and you were frowning. You were clearly upset.

"Y/n? Whats wrong sweetheart" she asked with kind eyes.

"Daddys been not spending time with me, i cant even remember last time he talked to me. And i had a bad day today, just sad..." you said, holding back tears.

Pepper noticed this and immediately took you into her arms. You began to cry into her shoulder. Small sobs coming from you. Wrapping your arms tightly around her neck.

"And hes been really dangerous and.....can i stay with you for now?" You asked, pulling away from her, and she immediately answered

"Of course sweetie" she said as you began sobbing once again. A few moments later she helped you pack a bag.

+•°+*°•+

tony was in the workshop when he suddenly remembered it was recently his birthday week, you always got him one handmade present per day on the week of his birthday. But he hadn't seen you In a while.

He went up to your bedroom, but you weren't there. He checked the whole house in fact, he was about to call the police when Jarvis spoke up.

"Sir, ms stark is at ms potts house."

"What, why?" He decided not to come retrieve you right now. Given that he could put you in more danger then you already are in. But after 3 days, this took a pretty hard hit on little 8 year old you.

You thought he wasn't coming because he didn't care, did he even love you anymore? You would ask yourself that all the time. You even ditched one of your soccer games. (Or whatever sport you participate in)

Pepper and happy were your entire support system. You didn't think that anyone cared about you anymore, except happy and pepper.

One day, (just after he created the new element and destroyed his garage) there was a knock at the front door, pepper opened it and upon seeing tony standing there, she tried to shut it in his face. But he stopped it with his hand. You were peeking around a corner, and accidentally made eye contact with tony. Immediately stepping back so he couldn't see you.

"Y/n/n? Baby?" You slowly walked out from your hiding place. And saw that he was wearing his matching black sabbath shirt. And had something behind his back.

Slowly, you walked up to him, he knelt down to be on eye level with you. And spoke up.

"Y/n, i am so, so sorry baby. I shouldn't have done the things I did. Im sorry. And if you dont wanna forgive me, i get it-" He said choking back tears, being interrupted by you throwing your arms around his neck.

"Its okay daddy" you mumbled into his shoulder. That's when he broke. Sobbing into you, he held you tight. He didn't deserve your forgiveness, your kindness, but you always believed in second chances.

Pulling away from this hug, he held the back of your neck, you leaned forward and kissed his cheek, he closed his eyes for a small moment before saying something

"And plus you forgot philip" he said holding up a teddy bear. You gasped and snatched the stuffed animal.

He took you back home, you sat in the passenger seat, holding onto his arm the whole way home.

When you arrived at the house, you walked in holding tonys hand and saw the whole place practically destroyed. The entire living room covered in black as if something had exploded, and a hole in the floor.

You stopped walking immediately, tony being jerked back since you were holding him.

"WHAT DID YOU DO!?" you screamed out. He chuckled, and lead you upstairs to his bedroom and picked you up. He lied down on the king sized bed, holding you to his chest. You fell asleep against him.

After you fell asleep tony made way down to the garage once again after tucking you in.

+•°+*°•+

You were now at the expo, when Justin hammer started to present the hammer drones your jaw dropped in awe, you glanced at pepper who did not seen impressed. You turned back making the same face as her.

When your father randomly showed up, you probably cheered the loudest.

When pepper and Natasha went behind stage, you followed. When nat pinned hammer down, you clapped a few silent claps, bouncing slightly. And stook your tongue out at him.

When pepper walked out of the building you followed her once again.

After a few minutes a destroyed hammer drone started beeping, pepper took you into her arms, lifting you off of the concrete ground. You looked around uneasily that's when you spotted your father.

You barely had time to process this before he swooped down, grabbed the two of you and took off.

When you landed on the roof, you slid down peppers side as they started arguing.

"Oh my god, i cant take this anymore!" Pepper said as she covered her eyes "you cant? Look at me"

"My body literally cannot handle the stress, i never know if your gonna kill yourself or wreck the whole company"

"I think i did okay!" Tony yelled out "i quit, im resigning...thats it"

even you did not expect her to say that "what'd you just say, your done? Thats surprising. No its not surprising, i get it. You dont have to make any excuses"

"Im not making any excuses" they started to speak over each other, and you just sat there. "You deserve better." tony said taking her hand. "You've taken such good care of me"

"Im in a tough spot, but you got me through it, so...right..yeah lets talk clean up" then they began to say a bunch of words you didn't yet understand.

"Well for you its like dog years, its like the presidenc-" being cut of by tony pulling her in and kissing her.

You whipped around covering your eyes and muttered a small "blah!" When you turned around you saw Rhody sitting in tonys suit. He put his finger up to his mouth and mouthed "shhhhh"

"Weird....run that by me again" he said pulling her close once more

"I think it was weird.." Rhody spoke up. You standing next to him.

'You guys look like two seals fighting over a grape"

"You should get lost" tony said pointing a finger at him. "I was here first, get a roof" you chuckled at this clever remark.

"Listen, my car got taken out by the explosions, so...im gonna need to hang on to your suit for a minute okay"

"Not okay with that"

"Wasn't a question" Rhody said standing up, you immediately took a few steps back and he took of.

"How are you gonna resign, if i dont except" you giggled and brought them into a group hug. Kneeling down so they could get to you.

+•°+*°•++•°+*°•+

Tags

@animealways // @white-wolf-buckaroo // @tonystark-au // @yummyangy // @zebralover //

[zachary-vodrick]

Kevin Of Witsey 1: First son and second child of the village chief.

Kevin approached the workshop table with interest practically spilling from his eyes.

"What's all of this?" laying in front of him are various tools, bits of leather, and a boot on a stand.

"A noble craft—" With a sharp exhale Kevin was lifted up.

"Shoe!"

"Not just a shoe, Kevin, it's a foundation- a way for people like Mr. Henderson to till the farm, for Ms. Potts to take care of little Morgan"

"..." Kevin put a hand on his father's chin. Merrion, slightly surprised, but nonetheless he let the child be.

"I'm thinking!" Kevin beams.

"Oh, you're supposed to rub your own chin." A troubled look crept up on Merrion's face.

"Shouldn't you be out playing?"

"Emma's always stufying in her room, she said she didn't have time for me.."

He lowers the child and pats him on the head.

"You're a good kid" a gentle smile in reflected on Kevin's eyes.

"Mhm! can you teach me how to... uhh" He gestures towards the table

Slightly widening his eyes "Hmm, even if it's hard?" Merrion says with an intrigued look

"I'm big now! I'll be even better than you!" Excitement flowed through his words.

"Be sure to tell your mother that before we both get a scolding" After a hearty laugh, Merrion picks up an awl.

"Come," He lays some leather and gets a tall chair for Kevin to sit on. "Push it through right here."

Kevin, although clumsy braces the awl up against the leather and, with surprising strength, pierces it. Merrion's eyebrow raises, the hammer that he had fetched now softly clanks back unto the table.

"Very good, handle it with care. Feel the weight of your motions. Know that they can't be undone. Take this thread and pull it back with the awl."

One hole becomes two and two becomes many. Guided by a stern voice a small hand grasps a thread.

A bead of sweat falls unto Kevin's brow. His hands growing shaky.

"Careful, Mr. Henderson will get upset if you ruin his new shoes."

Kevin's eyes widen, his lips tremble. The thread felt heavy in his hand and the tool on the other heavier still.

A hole opens in the wrong place, he braces for the yelling that's to come. 1 second. 3 seconds. 5, peeking at his father he gleams not anger or disappointment but pride, and a bit of whimsy. "You know, I wouldn't let a newbie work on a client's shoes right? I was just upping the tension it's good practice– Oh uh don't cry I'll uh... I'll call your mom"

Kevin takes a sip of the hot bowl of soup in front of him. He sniffles a little bit before grabbing a piece of nearly stale bread. In the background he hears some bits and pieces of the conversation his parents are having.

"....shouldn't be so rough on your son, hun"

"...rry it's j... Emma has always... well"

"Still, he's just a child and Emma, she's... you can't ...mpare them"

"..ow long.. ..eep acting ...this? ..has to grow up."

haaahuuu haaahoo. A mess of blowing, sipping, and sniffling was echoed in the dining room of the house.

Finally the kitchen door opens, Kevin quickly wipes away the tears and resets his face with a smile.

"Thanks for the food, ma"

Abbigail pats his head messy turning her head away.

"You're a good kid." A slight tremble in her voice. Abbigail puts a hand on her son's face as she crouches down. "Listen Kevin you're strong right?"

"Yeah!"

"And what do strong people do?"

"Win?"

"It's help, help who you can." She puts the empty bowl away and beckons at kevin to follow.

In a garden that's seen better days she hands Kevin a trowel.

"I want the big one!" To which kevin promptly declines and runs for a shovel

"Ok ok, be careful you might hurt yourself. Help me dig this bush out." She points at a withered plant it might've bore edible fruit once.

"Eeeh but I like that bush! it's tasty," Kevin protests.

"Listen Kevin, sometimes– do you know how things end? how rain stops and how day turns to night?" She pauses "That happens to everything. It happened to this plant."

"Everything?"

"Yes Kevin everything."

"Even Emma? and Ma and Pa?"

"That won't happen for a very long time, do you know why?" Kevin stays silent in anticipation.

Abbigail reaches out to Kevin's sides and starts tickling him.

"Because you always make your big sister and your mom & dad smile"

The shovel Kevin was holding tips over crushing a fruit.

"Oh no, I, Kevin quick it's still," She picks up the remains of the fruit in dismay.

"I- was it my fault..?" Timidly Kevin asks.

"No no, I guess it's our fault so lets take responsibility together" Another gentle smile reflects on Kevin's eyes.

"Ok! Do we eat it?"

Abbigail frowns, "It's too dirty to eat now" Putting her fingers on her chin "We can give it to the chickens"

"Ok!" He yells as he runs towards the coop, wet crushed fruit in hand. The fruit flies through the air landing inside the coop and startling the chickens.

Panting and a little out of breath he looks back to his mom, Abbigail is tending to the garden.

Kevin starts walking back to his mother.

Aaaright this is Zack, I decided to write shit about my character's backstory novel-style. Do expect more chapters? pages? paragraphs? idunno but I will make more.

[goatmilksoda]

I keep seeing posts and videos about degoogling your life and it sounds great but for some reason, my brain just refuses to actually make any of these changes (actually a very large part of it is that many of my fic documents are upwards of 500 pages and making them run smoothly and easily navigable on Libre or MS Word is something I have found difficult)

I just need someone to have like an in person 2-3 hour workshop on it where I can physically be in the room and ask questions like an old man while I move over my shit to a more sustainable option.

[deathofacupid]

games // part one | peter parker

(the spacing is so weird... don't worry about it...)

masterlist to this here!

tw: underage drinking, angst kinda, mentions of sex and underage drug use, making out, y/n

just y/n

that's all i can say

kinda trash but whateverrr (i didn't really proofread-)

will probably have multiple parts that aren't that long?? idk

this one's 1.1k+ words

peter's p.o.v.

y/n stark had never fallen in love. she had everything she needed, all the money, right in the palm of her hand.

yes, she was smart. one of the top students at midtown high. her grades spelt that out. so why wasn't she doing anything with herself? why didn't she put effort into the things she did? why was she always making questionable decisons? smoking? drinking? parties? drugs and one-night stands? 

because she didn't care.

she didn't care simply since she would take over her father's company, anyways. no college or anything, simply a one-way ticket to be the c.e.o. of stark industries. that was her life plan.

plus hook-ups on weekends.

most nights were spent partying, drinking, and doing drugs. and the longest she'd ever dated a guy was 6 days (more or less).

to say the least, she had a reputation.

peter knew that, so he wasn't quite sure why he let himself fall in love with her, even though they'd never talked.

he glanced over to her figure that was slumped over her desk slightly, as she bit her lip in concentration. peter felt his heart beating a little faster.

"-once you finish that, turn it in. though," ms. cartwright paused, "you may, actually probably will, have to work with your partner outside of school to complete this. choose your person carefully, and don't forget, you have 'til wednesday. go ahead and find a partner."

"really, ms. cartwright? a project? aren't you supposed to be the cool teacher?" y/n quipped, not really meaning to make it sound like a joke, but some people, including himself, chuckled.

but peter's mood dropped again as he sighed, because he didn't have any friends in this class, so he prepared himself to plead the teacher to let him work alone.

suddenly, someone sat down next to him, making peter look up.

"hey, parker." his eyes immediately widened.

"oh! uh, h-hi, y/n."

she nodded briefly, "wanna partner up?"

"with- with me?" he asked, looking around.

"um, yes?" y/n raised an eyebrow. "who else?"

"right, right." it was awkward for a second, and he wanted to break the silence so bad. clearing his throat, "so i was thinking that we could do maybe... something for thermodynamic properties of atomic defects for quantum technologies? a model paired with a thesis, or, like, prediction for, uh, it, or," he looked up as he was writing to make sure she was still listening, "and add some sorta... emitter?"

"that's... actually really smart. maybe workshop on the defects part though, but i think we can make it work. let's blow them away, parker."

peter couldn't stop the grin that made it's way onto his face.

a girl was talking to him. a pretty girl. one that wasn't aunt may or mj. sure, yeah, it was for a group project, but still. 

it counted, he decided.

the rest of class was spent brainstorming, and then he felt a little sad once the bell rung and she had to leave, before that, though, y/n wrote her number on his paper, adding a little heart.

"wanna meet up after school? we can work on it and get it out of the way."

"yes, please!" he said, a little too happily, so he cleared his throat and tried again. "um, yeah, th- that's cool. i guess."

y/n laughed, and he decided it was the prettiest sound ever. "solid, babes." he froze momentarily, but he knew she didn't mean it sexually. but he still blushed, and y/n caught that but said nothing for his sake.

"'kay, see you then. text you the deets."

only aunt may ever used the word "deets," but when y/n said it, it sounded... cool, and it made him want to start using it, too.

he couldn't wait to brag to ned.

now who's the female-less dweeb?

his next period was lunch, so he could tell. ned. everything. peter was honestly still surprised that out of everyone in the whole classroom, she picked him.

unless she's using you for answers, a little voice rang at the his back of his head.

he shook it away. why would she need his help? or answers? y/n was equally smart, if not smarter.

right.

she came to me because i'm not 100% of a loser. i'm worth something as peter.

peter sat down at his normal seat on the lunchroom, right by ned.

"god, ned, you'll never believe it! ned, bro! guess, guess!"

"uh... the water fountain doesn't make the hallway smell like farts every time someone uses it because it's fixed now?"

"that... that was specific."

"hey, man, i gotta get water from somewhere."

"okay, well, either way, no."

"ooh! you- you... i don't know. just tell me!"

"alright, alright. get ready. are you ready now?"

"yeah! say it!"

"100% ready?"

"yes!"

"i got," peter started, pausing for dramatic effect, "a pretty girl's number!"

"really? no way!"

"and, and, it's not just any pretty girl! it's y/n! yeah! y/n stark!”

"no. way. oh my gosh, peter! that's insane!"

"i know, i know, i know!"

"so? now what?"

"what do you mean?"

"like... are you gonna meet up with her?"

"uh. maybe? i dunno. i've seen her at the tower, like, once."

"won't mr. stark," he shrugged, "not want you dating... his daughter?"

peter paused, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "i... don't think we're quite there, ned," he answered honestly.

he decided not to mention the fact that it was for a group project.

peter spent the rest of lunch tuning out ned and day-dreaming about her. and then when he got home, he stared at his phone. maybe he was waiting for a text from her?

it didn't matter. 

why would she willingly do that?

then another thought popped into his mind, was she waiting for him? 

that's stupid. there's no reason for her to wait. if she wanted to talk to me, she would've done so. 

but what if she is? then i should message her. 

wait, no, i can't look desperate!

maybe-

shut up conscious!

he felt so silly, stressing over such a small thing. but then again, this was high school. practically everything you said or did mattered. finally, he decided he'd text her first. 

peter: hi. it's|

the cursor blinked in front of him, mocking peter. he erased it and tried again. 

peter: hey, it's|

or did "hi" sound better? no, no, hey was cooler. but he didn't want her to think it was hey, because it wasn't hey. it was just hey. 

well, now he had another problem. "hey" didn't look like a word anymore. it looked like hay misspelled. peter dragged a hand down his face, frustrated. 

peter: hi y/n i'm hopelessly in love with you and overjoyed that you picked me to be your partner marry me now? please| 

that was most likely not better. 

he settled for, at last;

peter: hey, it's peter. when do you wanna meet up? 

delivered at 5:31