#didn’t wanna deal with them and fiddling with them next to the flames so…….

[what-the-fuck-khr]

what-the-fuck-khr’s most popular sky is tsunayoshi! he won with 38.6% out of 10 characters!

[inhuman-obey-me]

Payback's a Murder

Word Count: 2k Description: Mammon may be the Avatar of Greed and may constantly try to con his brothers, but others who try to do the same will find themselves at the wrong end of his murder. Part of the A Demon's Nature series. Finally got back to this, so here we go with Mammon's turn! Note: Mulciber is a demon mentioned in John Milton's Paradise Lost. He served under Mammon and was an architect. Can also be found on AO3 here. content warning: blood, body horror, torture via the sharp ends of birds

The Avatar of Greed often found himself in trouble, whether it be because he stole personal belongings to sell or tried to cheat someone out of cash or … well, there were a lot of ways. Call him reckless, but when he saw an opportunity to make some cold, hard Grimm, he wasn’t about to pass it up!

But if someone tried to cheat him out of something? That wouldn’t do. Few dared to try it if they knew just who they were dealing with, but that didn’t stop some from trying anyway. They always regretted it afterwards.

The real issue, however, was if someone tried to cheat his brothers out of something. After all, he was the only one allowed to rip them off (that was his justification, anyway). The moment he finds out someone else tried to play confidence demon with any of them, it was a one-way ticket to the Great Mammon’s Beatdown Extravaganza.

He was walking by Leviathan’s room earlier when he heard a loud crash, some swearing, and a slight rumble under his feet. After some door breaking, tackling, and forcing his hotheaded brother to not summon Lotan, he found out what had made him so upset. Apparently, there was some demon running around with elaborate schemes swindling others -- well, nerds -- out of their money. He went on to explain something that Mammon did not at all understand -- as was usual when he got into his otaku rambling. If his brother had not been so upset, Mammon would have commended the guy for knowing how to target and hit a jackpot.

After some additional pestering, Mammon managed to get a rough description of this third-rate demon and realized he had a pretty good idea of just who it was. It was someone far closer to him than he’d like to admit.

So now here he was, leaning against the bar at one of the Devildom’s many clubs, drink in hand as he monitors the floor. If he was right, he would see the other cozening demon somewhere here tonight, so now it was just a waiting game. As Lucifer had told him repeatedly, You have to show that you’re Number Two. He planned to make that very clear tonight.

He felt the pulse of the bass vibrating through his body as the DJ amped up their music, more and more demons flowing into the space as the prime clubbing hours arrived. A few who noticed Mammon acknowledged his presence, some whispering about how he seemed to look way more serious than normal. The Avatar of Greed, not partying the night away already? Strange.

His patience was just about to run out when he caught a glimpse of just the demon he was seeking out. Hair as orange as a flame, he wasn’t too hard to spot amongst the crowd of more muted succubi surrounding him. Mammon downed the rest of his drink in one go, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket as he made his way to his target.

“Mulciber. Already getting started, huh?”

“M-Mammon?!” He seemed startled to see the other, but cleared his throat as he regained his cool composure. “It’s good to see you, man! Why don’t you join us all for a drink?” The succubi around him giggled, one daring to lean towards Mammon in an attempt to latch onto his arm, but he quickly placed a hand up to stop her.

“No touchin’, sweetheart.” He shot her a look that made her immediately back away, a pout on her lips. “And that’s a nice offer, Mulcey, but I was hopin’ I could talk to ya real quick in private.”

Mulciber could tell that no was not an option in this conversation, given the serious look in the Avatar’s eyes. “Oh, uh, sure. Sorry ladies, I’ll be back soon. Gotta take care of business!” He gave them a wink as they continued on to the table for their party. Clearing his throat again, he turned back to his superior. “So, what’s shaking, boss?”

Mammon just gave him a smile before nodding his head towards a side door, motioning to accompany him there. The lesser demon complied, following him outside to a side alley. The night air was brisk, causing a shudder to run through Mulciber’s spine. At least, he hoped it was the weather that was making him feel like this …

“I heard ya got up to another scheme.” Mammon fiddled with a lighter, flipping the top off and on with his thumb and a jerk of his hand as he spoke. Click, click, click, click. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, totally!” Mulciber nervously replied, wondering why Mammon seemed so interested. Did he want a cut of the check? Fishing for ideas for his own next get-rich-quick scheme? Or --

Oh.

Oh no.

He suddenly remembered that one of the victims of his scheming had been the very Avatar of Envy. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, delighting in the fact that he was even able to rip off a Greater Demon. Meant his plan had to be pretty genius, right? But now … now he was starting to realize that he may have just made a big mistake.

“Hm? Ya haven’t said a word, Mulcey-boy.” Mammon turned to face him, tucking the lighter into his pocket. He took a step towards the other, who immediately took a step back -- only to be met with a hard brick wall. “Or didja have a moment of realization?”

“L-Listen, Mammon, I’m sorry! I didn’t know at the time, I swear!” Mulciber brought both his hands up, as if that would stop the other from approaching him.

“Oh? ‘Cuz your face says differently, buddy.” He bared his fangs, the usual gradient in his eyes now glowing a furious gold. There’s a malicious grin on his face as he takes a step back, and then he begins to … whistle?

Mulciber does not like where this is going. He’s heard that tune before and it makes his hairs stand on end. “Look, man, please, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to you!” There’s already desperation in his voice, which almost makes Mammon laugh.

“Glad to hear it. Then ya won’t have a problem with what’s about to happen next, yeah?”

It starts in the distance, a noise that made it feel as if your eardrums were being pierced by a thousand shards of glass. It grows louder and louder, closer and closer. An omen.

Mulciber shrinks against the wall, his grey eyes wide in fear. He knows running is pointless -- the other demon would quickly catch him, and leave him even worse for wear as repercussion. “P-please, Mammon, sir, don’t do this … “

“Didn’t you just say ya’d do whatever ya have to do?” Mammon shakes his head, his wings stretching out wide as if to entrap the lesser demon where he stood. “And you really think suddenly pullin’ out the formalities is gonna get ya any mercy here?”

The flapping of numerous wings now filled the air, a large murder of crows circling in the dark sky above. Their bone-chilling caws and cries rain down upon them as the birds eagerly await their master’s command.

Mammon lunged forward and grasped the other’s jaw, his claws digging into flesh as he brought his face threateningly close. “Pretty ballsy of you to think messin’ with any of us was the right move.” He growled, a rumble in his throat. “Looks like someone needs remindin’ of his place.”

“I-I wasn’t thinkin’ at the time! C’mon, you know how that is, don’t you? I was just thinking of making some big bucks, I didn’t mean to go and step out of line--” Mulciber frantically rambled, trying to ignore the searing pain he was feeling from Mammon’s grip.

“I’m sure that was the case, Mulcey, sure!” If it wasn’t for his mocking smile, the Avatar would have nearly sounded genuine. “But that doesn’t mean you can escape the consequences, ya’know?” He let out a tsk, watching as blood dripped from where he had pierced the other’s skin.

He let go of Mulciber, taking a few steps back as he shook his hand as if to clean it of the ichor. There was no denying the glee he was feeling from this -- it had been a while since he decided to flex his abilities and powers on another. Looking up to the sky, he whistled out another tune, causing the crows to descend.

“He’s all yours.” He commands them in a language only they could understand, and in a flash the black-feathered birds rush in to attack. Their squawks mix with Mulciber’s shrieks as they begin to peck at him with their beaks and scratch him with their claws. Mammon fishes out the lighter from his pocket once more, grabbing a cigarette from the box he had on him with his other hand. Leaning against the opposing alley wall, he lights up and takes a slow drag, watching as the flurry of feathers pulverize his inferior.

The crows tear at Mulciber’s flesh, their sharp beaks riddling his body with small cavities and painting him with his own blood. He continues to cry and scream, though it’s obvious he’s losing energy by the second as they grow weaker in intensity, his body slumping towards the ground. Perhaps he had learned his lesson? Surely, he’s just waiting for it all to stop now, right?

Mammon takes a glance around, humming in delight as he catches sight of a discarded iron pipe. He drops the remains of his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before retrieving his now makeshift weapon. It feels cool and light in his hand, and he gives it a small toss in the air before catching it again with a satisfied smile.

“Alright, alright. You all can leave him alone now.” Mammon commands his murder once more, followed by another whistle to let them know they could go back to doing whatever they were doing before now. One of them flew over to Mammon, perching on the metal rod in his hand, looking up at him with a puffed up chest in pride as blood stained its beak.

“Yes, who’s my good lil’ birdie?” Mammon cooed, scratching the crow under its chin. “Go get yerself cleaned up, okay?” It cawed in delight before flying off to join the rest, who were fading back into the dark night sky. The Avatar of Greed shook his head fondly before turning his attention back to the matter at hand.

Mulciber lay crumpled on the ground, though was making efforts to sit upright as he gasped for breath. His body hurt all over, as if every inch of him had been pierced with needles. He feebly looked up to meet Mammon’s gaze, a whimper leaving him as he noticed the rod in his hand.

“What? I couldn’t let my birds have all the fun, now could I?” Mammon grasped the rod firmly in both hands before swinging it down with a deafening crack as it hit the other, who let out another sharp cry of pain.

“Hm, perhaps just another for good measure.” Whack. Another wail.

“Okay, okay. One more.” Whack. Another splatter of blood.

Content at the shuddering and sniveling mass that was left, Mammon kneeled down to get close to Mulciber’s ear, his next words full of menace. “Ya really should have stuck to the building business. Keep that in mind in the future, ‘kay?”

Mammon stood up and let the iron rod clatter to the ground, its hollowness ringing into the night. He made his way back inside to order another drink, ignoring the whispers and stares from the others in the club. It was doubtful that Mulciber would make an appearance here after what had happened for a while.

He knocked on the bar counter, getting the attention of the bartender. “Give me a glass of your finest whiskey. Put it on Mulciber’s tab.”

[potatoes-is-are-food]

Demon Shit [Part 3]

| NSFW 

“I know it was probably scary last time, but stand in the circle, sweetness. Put your shoes and jacket on that chair first..” Dabi’s hand produced a blue flame which he used to light several candles around the room, illuminating it enough for you to see the circle, several chairs scattered around the room, along with boxes and a ton of cobwebs. You did as instructed, shivering as you draped your coat over the arm of a plush armchair and slid your boots under it. Dabi placed a hand on your back,

“Good girl,” he praised, “Now just wait right there, I have to leave the room so the summoning can happen. Seriously, don’t talk to him, okay?” You nodded, but he gripped your face and stared you down, “I mean it. Don’t talk to him until I say or I’ll spank your cute little ass so hard you won’t be able to sit right for the next century. Got it?” You nodded frantically and his hold lessened as he pressed a light kiss to your lips before giving your head a pat and exiting the room, leaving you alone in mostly darkness. 

You shuffled your stocking-clad feet nervously, wringing your hands and shaking in the cold. When you felt the demon materialize in front of you, you pressed your mouth into a hard line. You didn’t even look up, staring down at the newly appeared being’s legs and trying to avoid glancing up any further. 

The door opened and Dabi lit several more candles, giving you a reassuring wink as you watched him, eyes still wide and hands clasped tightly together. When he was done he approached and you turned to look at him, facing away from the new demon. His eyes darted up for a second and settled on you again, giving you a little smile.

“Perfect. You can speak. It’s all done,” he ruffled your hair, watching with an amused expression as realization clouded your expression. 

“If it’s done then-” you screamed as pale arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back against the bare chest of the demon. 

“Fuck, Tomura, don’t scare her to death,” Dabi said, pulling you out of the stranger’s arms and into his. You immediately clung to him, burying your face in his chest and locking your arms tightly around his waist. You heard raspy laughing behind you and held Dabi tighter. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and his other hand pulled his friend in close.

You looked up to see Tomura pecked his lips and mutter thanks under his breath before turning his attention back to you, tracing his fingers lightly along your back for a moment. 

“You’re fine, little sacrifice. Say hi,” he gently pried your arms off him and spun you to face the other demon. Tomura was roughly the same height and build as Dabi, but no discolored skin. The area around his eyes was a little marred and his lips looked chapped, but his long, unkempt hair was what drew your attention. That is, until your eyes glanced lower before you could stop them and you got an eyefull of the monster between his legs. 

All the blood in your body rushed to your face as your eyes shot up to stare at the ceiling, trying to purge the image from your mind. Bigger than Dabi, and that had felt like it might tear you in half. Tomura’s looked like it would ruin you. He leaned in closer until his face was only a few centimeters from yours and smiled creepily at you. The expression made your thighs clench and your body shrink back against Dabi. 

“Lucky asshole,” Tomura rasped, looking up at him but staying close to you, “My last sacrifice was an infant. What the fuck was I supposed to do with that? And I still had to fulfill my end of the deal. Bullshit,” he sneered, bringing his red gaze back to your scared, flustered expression. 

“Pretty, right? Sweet, too. And a dumb little thing. Fucked up the ritual by talking to me, let me carry her off with no struggle, willingly let me mark her up, and does whatever I say. If I told her to drop her panties and give them to you, she’d do it. Isn’t that right, sweetness?” Cyan eyes bore into you and your face burned, but you nodded at him anyway. A smirk crept over his face and he gave you a nod, tapping your hip and stroking your hair. 

“Fucking up the ritual doesn’t normally make them dumb and pliant,” he rasped, “you must have traumatized her or something. Not that I care,” He paused briefly, looking you up and down, “You’re gonna share, right? You owe me. You owe me a lot more than a pair of panties,” he watched you reach under your skirt and pull the lacy white fabric down, a fresh little wet spot visible on them. Tomura licked his lips, “I do want them, though,” he snatched them from you as soon as you held them out, inhaling your scent deeply and letting his eyes roll back. 

“Yeah, I’m sharing. Looks like she likes you, too,” Dabi muttered, his hand slipped under the back of your dress and swiped up through your wet folds. He licked his finger clean before nudging you towards Tomura and pulling away from you to shuffle through some boxes at the other end of the room. You were left face to face with the new demon, who was still naked and still sniffing your panties. 

“Gonna share with Kei?” Tomura asked, voice muffled from the fabric shoved against his face. Dabi shot him a look and he rolled his eyes, dropping your underwear and leaning in, “I want to kiss you,” he said bluntly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you so your chests were touching. You didn’t get to respond.

His tongue, longer than Dabi’s but not split like his, jutted out as he licked along your jaw. Your mouth opened in a gasp and he slipped it past your lips, closing the distance after and kissing you harshly. Your eyes fluttered shut as your head spun, arms wrapping around Tomura’s neck for support. He held you up easily, sliding his tongue around inside your mouth and down your throat, moaning when you gagged on it and trying to go deeper.

Drool spilled down your chin, dripping onto you both with a quiet tap as his hands moved from the small of your back down to your ass, cupping your flesh and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist as his fingers kneaded at your plush cheeks and thighs, and you felt his heavy, mildly terrifying cock stirring to life just under you. His clawed hands gripped too hard at your already sore thighs, breaking skin and making you whimper against his lips.

“Dude, wait until we’re in a pocket. Someone hears her screaming here, this location is fucked,” Dabi scolded him, still shuffling through boxes. Tomura grunted into your mouth, setting you down and breaking off the kiss, leaving you panting and flushed. Strings of saliva connected you, and you wiped off your face on your sleeve. He let you lean against him, humming contently as he pet your hair and gave you a squeeze, pressing his erection against you. He inhaled deeply, 

“You’re so soft,” he muttered, rocking his hips a little, “smell so good…”   “Don’t jizz on her here,” Dabi pulled him off you, wrapping an arm around each of you. He kissed Tomura again and pushed him off toward some clothes he’d gotten out before turning his attention to you, tilting your chin up and kissing you softly before setting you in the chair your stuff had been on. He slipped your feet back into your boots and laced them before setting you on your feet and trying to fix the mess his friend had made of your clothes and hair. 

Tomura scoffed, stuffing his hard, leaking cock into a pair of pants, “Do you spoon feed her, too?” He taunted, zipping and buttoning himself away. You pursed your lips slightly as Dabi wrapped your coat around you and adjusted it.

“That’s why your sacrifices always die,” he laughed, “you forget to feed them and take care of them,” once satisfied with your clothes, he gave you a pat on the head and sat down, pulling you into his lap. 

“That was literally three centuries ago,” Tomura argued, pulling on shoes and tying his long hair back, “And I didn’t like that one anyway. The deal wasn’t worth it,” Dabi shook his head when you shot him a questioning look. You settled against him, turning sideways in his lap to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his neck. Tomura joined you both, sitting on the arm of the chair and fiddling with one of the buttons on his shirt,

“Is she always that clingy?” he gave your arm a poke and you gave it to him, holding his hand but keeping your face nestled against discolored, rough skin. Dabi shrugged,

“Since I’ve had her. She just kind of lets me do whatever, all she wants is affection, hm?” he bounced you slightly, sighing when you kissed his neck. You sincerely couldn’t explain why, but you were drawn to him, he made you feel safer than you ever had. You liked the other one, too, but he made you a little nervous. You gave his hand a little squeeze. 

“She’s like a little girl or something. Are you sure you didn’t break her or some shit?” Tomura gave your hand a tug, pulling your face off Dabi and closer to him, inspecting your eternally flustered expression, “None of mine are ever like this.” Dabi scoffed, “You probably scare yours, you made y/n scream.” Tomura smirked at him,

“You haven’t made her scream?” he taunted. 

“I’ll make you both scream,” Dabi shot back, gripping Tomura’s ponytail and jerking him forward, pressing his lips to his. You watched with wide eyes, squirming a little as you felt heat building between your legs from the display. Their kiss broke, Dabi leaning back into the chair with a laugh, 

“That do something for you, little sacrifice?” You looked away, pursing your lips as he trailed a finger down your cheek. You heard Tomura mutter, “cute,” under his breath as his fingers slipped under your dress. Dabi swatted him away,

“Wanna touch,” he argued, trying to bypass the other demon’s hand.

“Knock it off. She needs food and I need to get her more clothes. Here,” he placed a light smack to Tomura’s thigh and both men stood, Dabi helping you off his lap and placing your hand in his friend’s. 

“Get her food and text when you’re done. We can meet up and get her settled into the pocket,” he pulled a phone from his pocket and stuffed it in one of Tomura’s, “Have fun on your date,” he winked, kissing Tomura first and then you, smoothing your clothes one more time and wiping something off your face. 

“Wait, you already picked a pocket for her? I’m gonna have to stay there too, it better be nice,” You stared up at Tomura as Dabi waved off his question, blowing out the candles around the room. 

“Are you going to live with me?” You asked, clinging to his arm as the room slowly darkened. 

“Sometimes. Between all three of us you’ll have someone with you pretty much all the time probably,” he scratched at his neck, shrugging as Dabi glared at him again. 

“Three? Is that Kei?” Dabi winced as the name fell from your lips, blowing out the last of the candles and leaving the three of you in the dark. 

“Don’t worry about him, but yeah. We’ll deal with that in a day or two,” a hand ruffled your hair, “Can’t do too many rituals so close together. It’ll overwhelm your puny little body. I’m not the only reason you’re sore and worn out,” you felt him kiss your head and steps walking off. The sound of a door opening, and he was gone.

[weelittleweasley]

Amortentia | Draco x Reader

Prompt: After having a large crush on Draco for two years, you decide to move on for your own sake. But what happens when you are in potions class and what you smell is not that of your current boyfriend, but of an old flame?

Warnings: angst, a lil fluff at the end

Requests status: Open and ready for some requests

A/N: New fandom, same old writer hehe. I thought I’d come back after a long hiatus and write a little something. Quarantine/the pandemic has me back in my teenage self. In this, we go through year 4 to year 6, so GoF to HBP :)

The bellows of the professor at the front of the classroom fall into muffled murmurs as you go in and out of daydreams, fiddling with the quill in your writing hand. As you draw nonsense pictures in the margins in your notebook, you fantasize scenarios in your head of the boy you’ve had your eye on since the beginning of year four at Hogwarts. In your head, it all made sense. The two of you were pure blood Slytherins, competitive and ballsy, ready to fight at a moment’s notice. That’s what you adored so much about the blonde boy. He may have his moments, but he always seemed to be ready for whatever. 

The corners of your mouth twirl upwards into a smile as you think about being able to wear his jumper, smelling his cologne on the collar. You think about his hands on your hip bones, squeezing them lightly as he peppers small, soft kisses on your neck and collarbones. Yearning to lace your fingers with his as he dips down his head to place a tender kiss to your l-

“Miss (Y/L/N), do you have anything to add?” Professor Moody snaps you from your daydream as you sit straight up, feet planted on the foot, picking your quill up back in writing position. You clear your throat and shake your head back and forth. “If you have nothing to add, I’d recommend you quit daydreaming and focus on what is going on at the front of the classroom.”

You breathe out a small, “Yessir,” before returning your attention back to your work. Small giggles are let out across the classroom, relishing in your embarrassment. Heat rises to your cheeks and you try to make yourself smaller by sinking into your chair a little and ducking your head downward. Peering up through your eyelashes, you try to sneak a look a Draco who is seated only two tables ahead and to the left of you. As you do so, you see that he was looking at you the whole time, him chuckling with Blaise Zabini before returning their focus to the blackboard. Embarrassment washes over you yet again, caught in the act of looking at the boy you fancied. 

Within the hour, Moody dismisses class and you gather your things swiftly, trying to leave class without Moody stopping you to ask why your mind was elsewhere today. As you fling your satchel across your body and tuck your notebook under your arm, you scurry out the door only to be stopped by Blaise. 

“Would you move it, Zabini? I have to get to astronomy,” you push Blaises large chest with your hand, before booking it in the opposite direction. You can’t escape him, or so it seems, because he walks beside you now down the corridor to your next class. “Are you obsessed with me or something? What’s your deal?”

Blaise laughs, “I didn’t know that you get so distracted during class, doodling and dreaming, (Y/N). What’s more interesting than a class with Moody?” He nudges his shoulder into you, making you stumble a little bit as you walk.

Now getting really annoyed since he brought up what happened in class, you stop in your tracks and hit him with your notebook. “Leave. Me. Alone. You. Arse,” you speak in between slaps and Blaise just laughs as you swat him. Before you can walk away from him, he quickly snatches your notebook from your hands and your eyes grow wide. If he flipped through the pages just right, he could see all of your Draco doodles. “Hey, give that back! That’s private!”

You jump for your notebook, but with no avail since Blaise was significantly taller than you. He carelessly flips through pages, “Now what does Miss (Y/L/N) write about in class? Taking diligent notes?” With one final shove, your notebook falls onto the ground, wide open to the page where you have written Draco Malfoy in script in the margins of your notebook, so much so that it creates a border around your note in the center of the page. Blaise lets out a deep chuckle, “Ho-ho! That’s where little Miss (Y/L/N)’s thoughts have been! The Slytherin Prince!” 

Before Blaise can torment you anymore, you grab your notebook off the floor and slam it shut. Your heart is racing, Blaise is in Draco’s inner circle and if Blaise knew about your crush, that meant Draco was bound to find out. Your anxiety swells and your chest tightens. Your grip becomes iron on your notebook now, unwilling to surrender it if someone dares to snatch it away from you again. You look up at Blaise and if you look up any longer at the shit-eating grin he has on his face, you’ll start crying. As if this day could not get any worse. Blaise immediately recognizes your facial expression as a girl who has just been hurt and he instantly retaliates, regretting what he just did. “I told you that was private,” you manage to speak out before walking away briskly.

The sound of quickened footsteps follow you and Blaise voice says, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought we were having fun, that’s all!” he attempts to rationalize. You ignore his feeble attempt at an apology. “I won’t tell Malfoy. It’ll just inflate his ego,” he attempts to humor you.

“I would hope not. That would be the most human thing to do,” you spit at him. “Just leave me alone, okay? I think you’ve done enough damage for today.”

“(Y/N)!” Blaise calls out before you turn around to enter your next class. “Please. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it.”

You look at him and by the look on his face, you can tell he means it, which is surprising. You sigh, “I believe you. Just...don’t do it again. And please, don’t tell...” you don’t want to say his name in fear if you say it, he’ll come right around the corner. “...him.”

Blaise offers you a warm smile. “Your secret is safe with me.” You let go of your held breath, some tension releasing from your shoulders. “Can I just ask? What is the fascination of him? Is it his hair?” he asks, making you laugh lightly. There were many reasons you liked Draco; his personality, his smile, his drive, the cool blue gray color of his eyes, the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed. There was so much to like. Blaise notices your pregnant pause and smiles, “Never mind me asking. I have a feeling it will take too long to get your response.”

“Goodbye, Zabini,” you trail off, trying to slip into your class before he stops you yet again.

“Wait! Um,” Blaise stutters. “So, the Yule Ball is coming up soon. And I know maybe you were hoping to get asked by a certain...someone else,” he winks as you roll your eyes, “but I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?” he delivers the last part confidently, like he was giving you a sales pitch. 

You quickly thought about it. Although the chances of Draco asking you were slim to none, you still were holding out that maybe he noticed you and wanted to take you to the Yule Ball. But the proposition with Blaise sounded like fun. Blaise knew how to have a good time and you rather go with another Slytherin than with some half-blood from another house. And as selfish as it was to say, you would probably be invited to get ready with the other Slytherin girls like Pansy which meant more time to see Draco. Offering him a sweet smile you reply, “I’d like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me I need to go to class, Zabini.”

Blaise smiles and lightly blushes, but turns away, hoping you would not catch it. But you did before you slipped into your astronomy class before the professor started.

Soon enough, the Yule Ball rolled around and like you had previously thought, you found yourself in Pansy’s room, getting ready for the ball. You lightly tugged the rollers out of Pansy’s hair, helping her finish getting ready as she rambles on and on to Daphne Greengrass about their magical creatures class. A small smile tugs on your lips as you remain bystander to the conversation, enjoying the ridiculousness of the conversation. Your thoughts are disturbed when Pansy says, “Oh, wow, (Y/N). When you said you could do hair, you meant it!” She shakes her head side to side, causing her loose curls to shimmy across her shoulders. You had to admit she looked beautiful. 

You shrug, “Don’t mention it. Could you zip up the back of my dress?” You turn around, feeling the zipper close, the dress fitting around your figure tighter. When you turn around, you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Iridescent green fabric clung to your body fabulously, a deep v plunging down to your chest, your dècolletage shimmering in the light. It was a stunning dress; your mom had sent it over from London. It was her dress when she went to the Yule Ball at your age. 

“You look radiant,” Daphne tells you, placing her hands on your shoulders. “Blaise is going to be drooling.” Pansy and Daphne giggle, hoping you would join in. But you just offer them a small smile in return, secretly wishing there was another boy who would be gawking over how radiant you looked. “Something wrong?” Daphne asks.

Pansy looks at your face, “Do you not wanna go to the ball anymore?”

“No!” you exclaim. “I do! I do want to go!” You calm down both the girls as they dramatically sigh. “I just did not picture myself going to the ball with Blaise,” you confess. 

The girls exchange confused expressions before looking back at you. “What do you mean? Do you not fancy Blaise?” Pansy asks.

“No! I like Blaise! He’s a charming boy, don’t get me wrong. And he’s very handsome.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Pansy asks. 

He’s not Draco, you think to yourself. But instead of that you say, “I just fancy someone else.” That was probably too much information to give to the girls, you know they would take and spread some sort of rumor, but you give them the benefit of the doubt. “This does not leave this room,” you say sternly. You extend both of your pinky fingers to Daphne and Pansy, making them pinky promise and kiss their thumbs: your ritual for making promises. 

“So...” Daphne starts. “Can we know who you do fancy then?”

Your anxiety peaks again. If you even murmured that you liked Draco, Pansy would probably loose her mind. Pansy basically called dibs on Draco when you stepped foot at Hogwarts. In all seriousness, Pansy has fancied Draco longer than you, so it just seemed inconsiderate and rude to tell her that you had feelings for the same platinum haired boy. “You’ll find out later. Besides, we should get going now,” you change the subject.

You make your way down the stairs and the winding halls of Hogwarts before arriving at a tall staircase leading to the Ball’s entrance. Your arms are linked with both Daphne and Pansy’s as you descend the staircase. Your eyes roam the floor, looking for a certain blonde haired Slytherin and you almost immediately find him. And to your surprise, his eyes have found you. Your pair of eyes burns into his, creating a tunnel vision. The orchestra that plays in the other room becomes white noise and everyone else seems to disappear. It is just you and him now. He look absolutely dashing. His suit fits him excellently and his hair is perfectly swept back. His eyes are open in wonder as he watches you descent the staircase, looking absolutely regal. This moment feels like forever and you never wanted it to end. But it sadly does when you both realize you haven’t looked at either of your actual dates to the ball. Your eyes drift away from his blue ones and they meet Blaise’s brown ones instead. He is smiling big at you which makes you laugh. When you make it down the stairs, he meets you at the bottom and grabs your hand like an absolute gentleman. “You are unearthly, (Y/L/N),” he whispers before kissing the back of your hand. 

Smiling at the compliment, you thank him. “You are not too bad yourself, Zabini.” He did look great. His suit was tailored perfectly to his tall, muscular figure and his shoes were shined so bright that you could practically see your reflection in them. 

“Shall we head in there?” he asks, offering his arm to you to hold. You smile and take his arm. But not before taking one look at Draco. He kisses Pansy’s hand gently, but as he does this, his gaze is on you the whole time and only breaks when he comes back up to look at Pansy and give her a smile.

This was going to be a long night. 

Since that night, your relationship with Blaise grew. You went from friends, to something more than friends, to boyfriend and girlfriend. You didn’t expect to end up dating Zabini after the Yule Ball, but you decided that maybe pursing something with him was more realistic than chasing after Draco. He obviously had a thing for Pansy and Pansy for him and who were you to ruin that? So you let yourself use Blaise as a distraction or someone else to focus on rather than pining over Draco. However, it did drive you mad when you would all be in Slytherin common room and you sat on the floor next to Blaise and Pansy would sit on Draco’s lap when there was plenty of room on the couch. You also did not feel bad when Blaise would make fun on Pansy having an obvious crush on him. You would hide your laugh as Blaise pulled you closer to him. 

That being said, as you got closer with Blaise, you got closer with his friends. Which meant having to face Draco and swallow your feelings. You always felt like such a poser when you were with Blaise. You knew it was wrong to date someone who genuinely liked you and you liked someone else. But you just crossed your fingers and hoped that your feelings for Malfoy would melt away and your feelings for Blaise would grow. Of course, with your luck, nothing happened. Your feelings for Draco were just solidified if anything. He was cheeky and smart mouthed, which you just loved. He kept you on your toes. Blaise wasn’t like that; he was predictable. Draco would make jokes that only you two would hear and you would laugh until your ribs shook. Blaise has never done that. But it wasn’t right to compare Blaise to Draco; it was an unfair competition. 

Regardless, you stayed with Blaise. Too afraid to break up with him and too afraid to tell Draco how you felt, you stayed in a relationship where you lied not only to yourself but to another person every day. A good person at that. Blaise was a great guy and every day you held his hand, shared a kiss, cuddled up together, you felt guilty. You were hurting him more and more with everyday. And you were hurting yourself by being in this relationship for so long. But you stayed. 

Back in a classroom, this time Slughorn’s potions class, you stood next to Pansy waiting for the class to begin. You looked across the room to see your boyfriend toss you a wink as you lightly smiled. “I love you,” he mouthed as you sighed. 

You did love Blaise. So much. But not in the way he wanted. And yet, here you were, mouthing an “I love you too” back to him, causing him to smile wide. You turn to Pansy, “So what are we supposed to be doing today? If it’s boring, I’m going to use the washroom.” Using the washroom was always code for going back to your room. 

Pansy giggled, “Today’s class should be good. I heard Slughorn has Amortentia today.” Your heart sank. Amortentia: the most powerful love potion in the world. People say that it smells different for everyone according to what they are most attracted to. “Your should be easy. Smells just like Zabini I bet,” she nudges your side as you offer a convincing smile and girlish giggle. “I’m sure I know what mine smells of...” she trails off before looking over to Draco who was too involved talking to Zabini to notice her gaze. 

Slughorn starts class, reciting off lists of potions to which Granger completes his every question without fail. You roll your eyes, “Some people are just such show offs,” you whisper to Pansy, making her laugh. You join her, causing Draco to look your way, more interested in what you were laughing at rather than the lesson Slughorn was giving. You look away from Draco and focus back on the lesson, hoping it would distract you from those familiar gray eyes. 

Hermoine talks more about Amortentia before prompting Slughorn to ask your classmates to come up at random and speak what they smell. Granger goes first and describes a horrific combination of mowed grass and spearmint toothpaste. Others go after and then Blaise volunteers to go next. “Mr. Zabini, please, go head,” Slughorn says before Blaise steps up to the small caldron and take a whiff.

“I smell...morning rain...vanilla...and jasmine,” he smiles as he finishes his sentence, looking right at you. Your heart sinks. Blaise had smelt your perfume and everyone in the class knew it. Those who were friends with him laughed as Pansy let out an ooooh. You told her to shut up with a jab to the side as she continued to tease you. 

“Miss (Y/L/N), you’ve been awfully quiet this class. How about you come up and smell?” Slughorn proposes.

You freeze. Absolutely not. There was no way you were going to get up there and smell the Amortentia. You knew exactly what you were going to smell and you were not prepared to tell the class and your boyfriend that what you were smelling was Draco Malfoy. 

“I’m fine, actually.”

“That was less of a question and more of a demand, Miss (Y/L/N),” Slughorn rephrases, earning a few laughs from Gryffindors to which you shoot them a dirty look, causing them to stop. “Well?”

You look at Slughorn and gulp. He offers you a gentle smile and you can’t deny the man any further. You sigh and slowly walk up to the caldron. You are a foot away and already the scent slaps you in the face. It almost makes you cough from how strong it is. Right next to the pot, you look down at the bubbling liquid with pink fumes evaporating from it. Closing your eyes and iInhaling deeply, you get chills. The scent makes you forget where you are. What time it is. Who is watching. It’s euphoric. It’s perfect. It’s him. The smell of musky cologne, leather polish, and green apples dance around your nose and your stomach erupts with butterflies. 

“What do you smell?” Slughorn asks, snapping you out of your daydream.

“I’m sorry?” you ask.

“What do you smell?” he repeats. 

Suddenly, you remember that you have to tell the class what you are smelling. Or who you are smelling. Once you said what you smelled, everyone would know who you were talking about. Pansy would know. Blaise would know. Draco would know. You try to think. What in the world does Blaise smell like? Can you lie about this stuff? For Merlin’s sake, what does Blaise smell like?! “Um...” you try to concoct your way out of this situation. You try to think of what your boyfriend smells like, but the scent of Malfoy is clogging every single sense. 

“Say it then,” Slughorn urges you.

“Cologne, leather polish, and green apples,” you blurt, confessing what you were most afraid of to the class. You slowly open your eyes and see the smile that was once on Blaise face quickly fall. His eyes pang with hurt and pain and your heart drops into your stomach. You wanna run over to him and tell him how sorry you were and how much you loved him, but this thing with the Slytherin prince was unshakeable. Too hurt to look at Blaise anymore, you glance at Pansy, who is just enraged. Her ears are bright red, eye locked onto you, unwavering. Her eyes dig into your soul and you can hear her saying in your head, “You’re bloody joking, right?” You don’t dare look at Draco, but in the periphery you see him just staring at you, lips parted, breathing softly, eyes burning into the back of your head. 

Slughorn notices the tension and attempts to diffuse the situation. “Alright, everyone take your seats,” he dismisses. You walk quickly to Pansy who swiftly moves away to you and toward Blaise who sits with Draco, taking up a whole table with no room for you like usual. Instead, you find yourself sitting with random Ravenclaws for the rest of class, unable to think straight about what just happened. The look on Blaise’s face was enough to have you in tears and the look of betrayal on Pansy’s face drove you mad. You spent the whole class thinking, what have I done? 

As soon as class is dismissed, you watch Blaise’s movements, wanting to catch him or Pansy after class. Pansy leaps off her chair and to the door and you quickly follow suit. “Pansy!” you call after her. “Pans, please! Please can we talk about this? Please do not shut me out!”

“Why not?” she yells back. “You lied to me! You could have told me how you felt! You knew how i felt and yet you still lied to me!” 

“I know, but I thought what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. But I just ended up hurting you anyway and I am sorry, Pansy. I am so sorry,” you attempt to reconcile with your best friend as she fumes. 

Pansy shakes her head. “I just need space. Away from you. Can you at least respect that?” she sarcastically says. “There’s someone else you owe a bigger apology to,” she tells you before trotting away down the hall back to the Slytherin common room. 

You turn around and there stands Blaise, stoic and tall. His eyes are soft and full of so much pain. You could cry. You start to cry. “Blaise,” you croak out. “I didn't mean to hurt you. Please know that is the last thing I wanted to do. When you asked me to the Yule Ball, I thought that it would be a good way to get over Draco, but I-I don’t know what happened? Nothing happened, I guess. I value you and your friendship so much. Blaise, I love you, I’m so sorry. I thought not tell you how I really, truly felt would protect you.”

Blaise sighs, “(Y/N), I know you didn’t mean to. For Merlin’s sake, I’m not a git. I knew you still liked Malfoy.” Your eyes widen. Huh? Before you could ask every single question that flurried into your brain, Blaise stops you and says, “From that moment in the hallway during year four until now, I knew. I thought that the longer I stayed with you, I could convince you that I could love you more than he could. But I don’t think that’s true...(Y/N), I love you. What either of us did was not right and I think we just need space from each other right now.”

You shake your head. You couldn’t lose Pansy and Blaise. That would be too much. “No, I can’t lose you, Blaise. I need you,” you beg, holding onto his forearms. 

“It isn’t for forever, darling. Just for a little. I think we both a need a little space from each other right now,” he holds your face in one of his hands and you lean into his touch, soothing you almost instantly like it has done so many times before. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” You nod, him wiping away your tears before replacing it with a gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek. “Besides, I think you have to talk to someone else,” he whispers in your ear, before walking away, revealing Draco standing behind him.

Your breath hitches in your throat. His eyes burn into yours just like that night at the Yule Ball. A small smile on his lips dances as a last tear strolls down your cheek. He takes a few steps towards you and you instinctively take a few steps back. Draco looks a little hurt that you moved away from him so quickly. You gulp, not knowing what to say, what to do. Who would in a situation like this? Lightly sniffling, you wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your robe, not breaking eye contact with him. Draco opens up his mouth to say something, but then chooses not to. He closes his mouth, pressing his lips into a line, thinking of what to say. You watch him think, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he finds the right words to say. 

“Uh,” he starts. “How lo-”

“Year four,” you answer, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

He lightly laughs at how prepared you were to answer him. He nods. “I thought,” he lightly speaks, looking at you with a small smile. He is trying so hard to get you to open up to him. Or even crack a small smile at him. But that seemed really impossible right now. The two people who you cared about more than anything just told you they needed time away from you. You felt like an awful person. Although you should be in Draco’s arm right now, stroking his hair, kissing his lips, telling him how happy you were, you were standing four feet away from him, a shaking mess, tears still flowing from your eyes. “Here,” he reaches into his pocket and offers you a handkerchief. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, accepting his token, blotting your eyes with the green silky cloth. You blow your nose into it, loudly. You look at him, watching his reaction, wondering if you should return a snotty handkerchief. “I...I can wash it for you.”

He chuckles, “Don’t worry about it. Keep it if you need it.” You smile and tug it away in your bag. Silence falls over you two again. “Can I stand next to you?” he asks permission, knowing how fragile you are right now. You nod and he slowly makes his way towards you, stopping about three inches away from you. Your breath hitches in your throat when you look up and see the proximity of your faces from each other. “May I hold you hand?” he asks, you shaking your head yes slowly. With that, he grabs your left hand in his large hand, pressing yours flat against his before intertwining the fingers. It makes you smile softly which makes his heart flutter at your excitement. Draco so desperately wants to hug you, squeeze you, kiss you. But he knows he needs tread lightly. “I wanted to take you to the Yule Ball,” he confesses as he looks at your hands intertwined.

Your head shoots up and your eyebrows furrow. “You did?” you ask, not believing him. He shakes his head yes. You pause. This made no sense. “Then why didn’t you ask me?” you ask.

Draco sighs. “I didn’t know you well. Zabini said he wanted to ask you. I stepped back.” So much has happened today you cannot wrap your brain around what has just been said. “But now...I know you better. And now that you and Zabini are no longer...” he trails off, looking up at you with those chilling blue eyes that make your knees weak and heart putty. 

You want to scream yes. Wrap your arms around him. Kiss him. Hard. Breath in his scent that has haunted you for nights on end. Finally, he was yours. You were his. But that would not be right. It wouldn’t be fair to Blaise. Or Pansy. Or you. Or Draco. You needed time. “Draco...” you say, breathily.

“Yes?” he asks, eyes so bright and shimmering with so much hope and longing. Merlin’s beard, he wanted to kiss your tear stained cheeks and hold you close, bodies becoming one. “Is something wrong?” he asks, worry creeping into his words, his free hand that isn’t holding your hand, cups your cheek. “Please tell me. I don’t want to wait any longer. I can’t wait any longer.” 

His words make your heart break, knowing that you needed to wait longer. Just a little bit longer. “Draco...” you repeat, the tears welling back up in your eyes, slowly dripping own your cheek, but Draco is quick to wipe them away. “I...” you start, but your voice fails you. 

“Take your time,” he breathes. Oh, how he was so right. 

“I need time,” you repeat after him. 

“Yes, take your time. Breathe,” he says, thinking that what you are saying is applying to just now. 

“No, Draco,” you tell him, reaching up to his wrist, pushing his hand away from your face. “I need time. To process this. Blaise, Pansy...us...I need time.”

His eyes fall and the once happy expression on his face is fading fast. But he knows that you were right. It would be too fast. Too much for the both of you. You both needed time to think, recover, and come back to each other.

“And I will wait for you,” he reassures you, both of his hands cupping your small ones. “If I waited this long already, I can wait a little while longer.”

It’s like he knew exactly what to say. His words make you smile softly and you feel just a little bit better. Your smile makes me him smile. So you just stand there, your hand in his two large ones, smiling at each other. He places a tender kiss on your knuckles and then another to your forehead. His actions make your heart flutter, knowing that if this is what a relationship with Draco was like right now, you were in for a treat. You whisper a weak thank you and he shakes his head, laughing that you would thank him for something like this.

“Now go get some rest, darling,” he presses his forehead against yours and you flutter your eyes closed, loving the feeling of him being so close to you. It felt so good to finally have him next to you. You pull away, give him a gentle smile, and start to walk back to the Slytherin common room. 

Draco watches you walk away, down the hall. In his head, he thought to himself, I can wait a little longer. Because you are worth waiting for.  

[writingsbychlo]

key moves | stiles stilinski

word count; 9328

summary; turns out, stiles is pretty boring in bed. until he gets a few new tips, and then things get a little heated.

notes; this is just a normal au. no wolves, no supernatural, just the group, leading normal lives.

warnings; smut, public sex, drug use.

Stiles wasn’t too sure why he’d agreed to come and watch this film. He really had no clue what had passed through his mind, and that was all he could think about as he shifted awkwardly in the seat. It was what he could only assume at this point to be the sixth sex scene, and he rubbed his hand across his forehead.

Scott was rubbing a hand over his face for the trillionth time, mumbling about how he really doesn’t think Kira would want him to be watching this film. Theo and Isaac were having the time of their lives, cheering and making faces each time someone made a move, a ruckus kicking up between them. Liam had a red face and wide eyes, but his jaw hung open slightly as he watched the film.

“Guys.. guys I have to go. Kira would not want me to be watching this kinda’ film!” He got up, feet rapidly ascending the stairs of the empty theatre and out, and a snicker spread across the three older boys.

“Course, no, Kira would want him to be living it. What kind of excuse was that?” Liam looked over at Isaac as he spoke, and Stiles and Theo grinning in agreement.

“Nobody lives this. Look at it.” Stiles huffed, a smirk on his face as he kicked his legs out into the space in front of him, propping his feet on the back of the empty chair in front of him.

“What? Stiles this is so tame.” Isacc scoffed, hand waving in the direction of the film as the woman moaned out, the boys’ attention now all on him.

“W-What? No. People don’t actually do that.. I mean, look at them!” His arms flung out towards the gigantic screen, and Theo shifted in his seat, all three boys with eyes narrowed or eyebrows raised at him. “I mean.. I stick to like.. three key moves. I don’t do this, I shouldn’t be doing this, right?”

“Dude, you should definitely be doing that.” Isaac mumbled, cheeks flaming up as his eyes glossed over, mind clearly trailing away to Allison. He coughed, clearing his throat and snapping back into the moment, and Theo looked between the scarved boy and the flannel-wearing one.

“Uhm.. yeah. What do you mean ‘three key moves’?” Theo’s grin was widening as Stiles flushed, clearing his throat and scratching at his neck.

“I haven’t even had sex yet and even I know you’d do that!” Liam shouted, quieting himself down and glancing around the empty theatre, biting his bottom lip and mumbling an apology as the three older boys looked at him with glares.

“Spill, Stilinski. What are these three key moves, they better be good.” Isaac had a shit-eating grin on his face, a handful of popcorn being shoved into his mouth, kernels falling free and finding a home in the material around his neck.

“I don’t want to say.. I’m kinda’ doubting.. like.. everything right now.” A deep sigh left his lips, and Isaac began to pick the lost corns from his scarf, flicking them at him as he tried to deflect them.

“Stop it!”

“Tell us, then!” Both the brunette and the blonde prompted, high-fiving one another as they laughed, and Liam nodded along eagerly.

“Fine. But I am far too sober for this conversation. If we’re doing this, I need to be-”

“Oh, my God! This is the perfect time for a circle!” Theo gasped, slapping at his friend’s arms and Stiles threw his head back, a loud groan leaving his lips and Isaac stood, grabbing his popcorn and drink, tucking the snack box under his arm and using his free hand to yank a confused Liam to his feet by a fistful of his jumper at his shoulder. Theo ushered them both out of the aisle, and Stiles followed along, the film long forgotten as he patted down his pockets for his keys.

He clicked open the jeep, the three arguing over who gets shotgun, while Stiles rounded the side and hopped into the driver’s seat. Isaac ended up winning, slurping away at his drink and fiddling with the AUX cord as he plugged it into his phone.

“Do any of you want to tell me what a ‘circle’ is?” Liam muttered, shoved into the side door so Theo could sit in the middle, leaning across the console.

“It’s this shape, 2D, the three-dimensional equivalent is called a sphere an-” Stiles yelped as he was smacked across the back of the head, but it didn’t stop the cackle that left his lips.

“I meant in the context you morons were using it!” The youngest huffed, and Theo flicked him roughly in the ear.

“Respect your elders!” His tone was chastising, but he turned back to face him, letting the youngest look between them all as Stiles turned onto Isaac’s road. “It’s where we all sit in Isaac’s basement in a circle and get really, really high.” The two boys in the front cheered, the jeep jolting to a halt as they pulled onto the drive, all hopping out quickly as Isaac fumbled to balance everything while looking for his keys. They took the back entrance, bounding down the outdoor stairs and into the basement, the eldest three hurrying around the room, pulling chairs up to a round wooden table as Isaac lifted what looked to be an incredibly oversized, golden incense burner into the middle.

The three took their seats, and Stiles held his hands out for the grinder, Isaac passing over the brown paper bag he held as Theo motioned towards the empty seat, Liam standing idly in the room.

“Why have I never been invited to this before?”

“Because there are only four seats, and we usually do this with Scott, or some of the girls. You’re too young to get this high, I bet you pass out first.” The curly-haired boy unwrapped his scarf and Stiles dropped his flannel from his shoulders, unscrewing the top of the incense burner and lighting the small cones inside to cover the scent.

Following, Stiles laid out what was left of roll papers, perfectly sprinkling a collection of the slightly-sticky crushed greenery onto the papers, rolling them tightly and licking a line across the paper before twisting them at one end. He was barely finished with the first two, when Isaac lit one up, taking a deep inhale and blowing the smoke into the room. Liam expected the smell to overwhelm his senses, but it was thoroughly swamped out by the heavy scent of roses coming from the golden burner in the centre of the table.

The blunt was passed around and Stiles finished the other two, leaning back in his seat as Theo passed him the roll. It was already dwindling between his fingers and he balanced it between his lips, eyes slipping closed as the smoke burned deliciously at his throat, orange twinking along the paper as it burned further and further down. “Alright, twitch, pass it to the kid, let him try it. I wanna’ laugh at him before we get roofed.”

The honey-eyes boy nodded, passing a flickering stub to Liam, who took it between two shaky fingers, raising it to his lips as the older’s watched on, keenly. He pursed his lips around it, inhaling deeply and his eyes widened. He tore it away from his mouth, coughing out a mouthful of smoke and hitting at his chest, loud laughs erupting around the room. Liam tried again, getting the same reaction, but he could feel the tingling in his lungs and throat, his eyes widening and muscles relaxing.

“I feel like you need to be drunk to do this.” Liam grumbled, but let Theo take the dead ends from him and stub out the cig, as Isaac lit up the second. They were already beginning to relax, tense shoulders slouching as tension eased away.

“God, no, Li. That goes against the rule.” Stiles mumbled, the three elders all holding a cig to their own lips, occasionally offering Liam a drag.

“There’s rules to getting high and drunk, now?”

“Mh, no.” Stiles held up his hand, one finger raised and the rest curled into a fist. “One rule. Only the one. You never get drunk before getting high.” He nodded to the younger one, a laugh falling from his lips as he leaned back in his seat. “Beer before grass, you’re on your ass. Grass before beer, you’re in the clear.” Stiles shrugged at the rhyme, and Liam felt like he should start writing things down, his mind spinning.

“Woah.”

“Yeah, if you have a drink before you smoke, you’ve fucked it.” Isaac giggled, who had finished his blunt a while ago, and was now trying to catch the straw of his drink between his teeth, lips twisted up into a cheesy grin. Theo, who’s head had lolled back, looked up, wide red eyes looking over his friends before laughing loudly.

“I think Liam’s already fucked it, look at him.” The youngest was giggling in his seat, staring at his feet and kicking against the table lightly. “So, spill Stiles.”

“Spill what? Wait, what?” He stubbed out ends, glancing at Theo who did the same, the room filled with a hazy smoke.

“Your three key moves. We’re gonna’ analyse your sex life, dude.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” The boy sighed, dragging a hand through his hair and bringing his legs up to tuck under himself, sitting criss-cross on the chair. “Our sex life is perfectly fine. (Y/N)’s happy, I’m happy. What’s the deal?”

“She’s not happy if you’re not doing the things in that film. That wasn’t even like.. porn stunts. That was just sex.” Theo shook his head, and Stiles threw his head back, a loud groan falling from his lips. “Three key moves. Just tell us.”

“I-I.. fuck, fine, okay.” He shook his head, no idea why he bothered, but gave in, the pressure of the three looking at him forcing him to cave. “I just.. kiss her a bit, and then.. sorta.. trail my lips down her neck, while messing with her tits before.. you know..” Stiles held up two fingers, curling them a little as his friends looked.

“Okay, okay. We can work with this, a good start. Next?” Isaac rolled his hands, Stiles’ eyebrows furrowing as his friend spoke.

“Next? That’s it. Those are the three moves.”

“That- That’s it?!” Theo spluttered, hands slamming on his table as he leaned forward. “You kiss her, you touch her tits, finger her and you’re done. You just sleep with her? Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, and you’re done? Stiles, man..” Theo hissed out through his teeth and Isaac laughed, slapping at his knees as his entertainment was only heightened by the drugs in his system.

“I bet all he does is missionary too.” Isaac teased, his laughs cutting off as Stiles shrunk into his seat, face red and bottom lip clenched between his teeth, his friends’ jaws falling slack as their joke was realised to be true. “Oh, dude, really? I feel so bad for (Y/N)..”

“Hey! I please her! She.. finishes every single time.. I think..” He trailed off, scratching at his chin. His brown eyes flicked between those of his friends, before letting a deep sigh left his lips as he whines, leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as his he placed his chin on his upturned palms. “Fuck, help me out?”

You swilled the wine in your glass around, listening to it slosh as the girls chatted. The pink was rapidly draining, only a drip left in the bottom of the glass and you placed it back down on the bar, after taking the last drops from the glass, the rosé sliding down your throat, adding to the buzz of the alcohol already in your system.

Your freshly manicured hand, nails painted by Lydia herself hours prior, drummed against the wooden top of the table you were crowded around, your feet clicking against the floor as you shuffled in your heels. You reached into your bag, already regretting the decision as you pulled out your phone. Your lips only formed a larger pout as the screen changed from dark to display the picture of you and Stiles, no notifications showing up, your eyes glancing at the time, just clicking over to another hour.

22:00.

You sighed, looking at the numbers and your attention was brought back to the word as Malia snapped her fingers in your face eyebrows raised, along with the other girls, who were also looking at you.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You tucked your phone back into your bag, leaning your elbows on the table and glancing around the four of them.

“Ally was just asking for tips on covering hickies. I told her to just get a good concealer and colour corrector, but she's pale so she can’t put too much on without it going orange. Malia said she finds ice helps after they finish, and Kira was totally not helpful by simply suggesting not letting a boy suck on your neck. Way to suck the fun out of it, Ki.” Lydia teased, the dark-haired girl sticking her tongue out in response, before their attention focused back on you.

A cringe found your lips, your cheeks heating up slightly as you shrugged. “Well, what do you do, anything helps, at this point.” Allison groaned, your embarrassment only furthering. “Yours are always hidden, you do a great job!”

“That’s because I don’t have any..” You muttered, a sour look taking over your features as a huff left your lips. “Ever. Stiles has never given me a hickey.” Malia had a teasing smirk on her face, Lydia’s jaw was basically on the floor and Allison was just looking at you with pity.

“Like.. never never?”

“Not once?”

“Seriously?”

“Nope, never.” You popped the ‘p’ for emphasis, and bit your bottom lip before jutting it out. You picked up your glass, hoping for another drink before realising it was empty. As was the bottle in the centre of the table, turned upside down in the ice bucket you’d been served it in.

“Well, that sucks. Pardon the pun, because having a guy bite and lick at your neck.. It’s really something.” The redhead across from you spoke, and you glanced at her, eyes boring into her own as you deadpanned.

“Yeah, it’s not by my choice that he doesn’t. He’s so.. clingy when we’re out and about. He always wants to hold my hands and stuff a-”

“That boy is territorial, if I ever saw it.” Malia cut you off, the girls around the table nodding and you threw your hands up in exasperation.

“Exactly! Like, I really wouldn't think it be all that far fetched for some jealousy sex or some hickies, but no.” Your words were grumbled out, and as you went to speak again, Lydia grabbed a waitress on her way past, mumbling an order before turning back to you all.

“I think we need shots to combat this. You, my dear, have a serious case of good-sex-withdrawal. It’s written all over your face.” She joked, and you nodded sadly, letting your face drop into your hands momentarily.

“I mean, it’s not that it’s not good sex, right? It’s.. fine, as sex goes. I always finish, we both get there, but.. it’s nothing new. It’s basic, same thing each time. I don’t even think we’ve ever changed positions. The most exciting our sex has ever been was the time I blew him on his birthday. It’s just.. boring, you know?” The girls all nodded, listening intently. “What’s the most exciting you’ve ever done, it can’t just be me, right?”

“Jordan once fucked me in a cell at the station after everyone had left, didn’t lock the door, cuffed me, the whole shebang. We had to steal the footage to get away with it. Was real kinky, and exciting. That whole.. public, might get caught, thing. And being tied up? Hot.” Lydia confessed, your jaw dropping at the idea, heat crawling up your skin as you thought about it with Stiles.

“I’ve done it with Scott at the hospital. Loads of beds, he’s kinda’ into playing that whole doctor-patient thing. I love it when it happens.” Kira hummed, chipping in.

“Isaac really likes to try mixing things up. Changing positions, bringing in toys, all that crap. He’s real experimental.” Your heart dropping as the girls all spoke up, and you bit your lip, eyes finding Malia’s.

“Theo has a thing about doing it in his car. He likes me on top, like the risk, the closeness, all of it. Whether we’re parked up or even if he’s driving, always gets him going.” Her shoulders lifted and dropped in the shrug, and your head threw back in a groan. The sound of glasses hitting the table filled your ears, and you glanced back, Lydia handing over money for the round of shots sitting out, two being placed before you, and she nimbly took the small item between her fingers, holding it up.

“To (Y/N)’s terrible sex life, because we all need shots to deal with that trainwreck.” She joked, a scoff falling from your lips, but you couldn’t deny the truth as laughs rang out across the table. You lifted the glass, holding your wrist out for salt before clinking your glass with theirs, licking the substance away and shooting both amounts, biting into the fruit as you winced.

A groan fell from your lips at the warmth consuming your body, however, and you bounced in your heels, hair flicking over your shoulder. “This is an SOS. Please, tell me what to do.” The frown you had become accustomed to was replaced with a hopeful smile, a more fitting expression for girls night and you flagged down a hostess, requesting another round of shots before turning back to the girls, who were all already spilling advice for you.

“Have you tried a striptease?” That suggestion caught your attention, your eyebrows raising as you looked over at Allison, the other girls looking at her too, impressed looks on their faces. “What? Any kind of teasing works, really, hands all over. Isaac can never keep his hands to himself for a long time when I start dancing and stripping, it always ends in something fun.”

“That could work. You know what else you should do?” Your stare was enough to prompt Lydia to continue talking, and she took a sip from her cocktail while watching you, squirming under her scrutinizing gaze. “Start dressing sexier. Like, sweetie, you’re hot. Okay? Hot. You look hot for a girl with a boyfriend, but if you wanna’ drive him a little crazy you have to dress more like a girl in a bar looking for some good sex.”

“I am a girl in a bar looking for some good sex, Lydia!”

“But, you don’t dress like it! Look, I was there when you bought that dress, you look hot in it, why have you put on tights and a jumper?” She muttered and you looked down at yourself, before finding her gaze again.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“That dress was made to show off your legs and tits, and those tights and jumper are defeating the objective. Go take ‘em off!” She waved her hands at you, your eyes widening.

“What? Now?”

“Yes!” All four chimed in at once, and you jumped slightly from the impact. Raising your hands up in surrender, your eyebrows furrowed as you fought through the crowds, finding the queue for the bathroom to be non-existent, and you locked the stall behind yourself. It was roomier than you expected, a nice mirror hanging over the sink, clean and tidy, tasteful little accompaniments, a bathroom that surprised you for a bar. Then again, this place was Lydia’s choice, she wouldn’t be seen dead in anywhere that didn't have good standards.

With a roll of your eyes, you lifted your knitted jumper over your head, folding it neatly beside yourself. Unzipping the boots that sat just above your knees, you slipped them off, before wiggling the black elastic down each of your legs, folding them up into a small bundle of fabric, before slipping your feet back into your boots, zipping them up. Taking a look at yourself in the mirror, you had to admit, the dress did make your boobs look good. The bra you had worn was nothing special, but you could now see the appeal of wearing a push-up bra too. Your breasts were already almost spilling from the fabric, the black lace covering them in the design was flattering, hiding just enough to be modest and leave some to the imagination, but plenty enough to tease someone who already knew what was underneath.

Turning, you almost gawked at how much longer your legs looked. They were elegant and sexy, especially with the boots brushing your thighs, and a smile formed on your face as you shook your head, laughing under your breath. “Of course, Lydia would know exactly how I should wear my clothes.” You took the jumper, a new sense of confidence filling you as you walked back to the table, hoots and whistles filling the air once the girls saw you approaching, and you couldn’t contain the liquor prompted giggles spilling from your lips.

“What did I miss?” You laughed, the new round of tequila sitting before each of you, untouched as they waited.

“We were just coming up with ideas for you. Things that drive guys crazy, you know?” Kira nodded happily, her enthusiasm bringing you great entertainment, ignoring the hype she had, clearly already feeling the effects of the drinks a little stronger.

“Oh, yeah? And what did you come up with?”

“Moaning.” Malia and Allison spoke in unison, a collection of chuckles leaving all of you as they high fived across the table.

“Moaning?” You prompted, throwing your shot back, the girls whooping and following.

“Yeah, like..” Lydia cleared her throat, her head tilting back as she let the sound fall from her lips, followed by a little pant. “Oh, my God, baby, oh my God, mhm..” The looks she got were ignored, girls giving her glares as men looked over, eyes wide at her sounds. “You know? Try it!”

“Um.. no.” You shot her down, and she tipped her head to the side disapprovingly. Discontent complaints rang out from the ladies at your refusal, and you caved, groaning loudly and looking away from all of them, eyes zoning in on the table, picking at the threads of the jumper under your fingers. It was snatched from you, Malia stuffing it into her purse and you opened your mouth to complain.

“No, you don’t get your jumper back! It was distracting you! Focus, we’re fixing your sex life!” She joked and you dropped your shoulders, rolling your head from side to side.

“Fine! Fine!” You took a deep breath, closing your eyes and turning to the members of the group. When your eyes opened, however, your eyebrows furrowed. “Stiles?”

“That was pathetic. There wasn’t even a little bit of a moan in there.” Lydia shut you down, but your eyes were gazing over her shoulder at the man standing near the door, his friends piling in around him. You rounded the table, stepping out from the groups of people, his name falling from your lips again and he spun around, his eyes darting about until he found you, eyes roaming over your figure.

They stilled, pausing on your displayed tits and exposed skin of your legs, a hand reaching up to rub over his jaw before he eventually managed to drag his gaze back up to meet your own. He was soon moving, taking rapid and wide strides across the room, and he was before you within no time, his front almost pressed to yours. Your jaw dropped open to speak, ask him why he was here, but before you could, his lips had descended onto yours, tongue pushing past your open lips to tangle with your own.

A squeak left you, your eyes closing as his lips coaxed yours into moving with his, both of his hands finding your waist and pulling you flush up against him tightly. Your hands were pressed against his chest between you, and he dipped you backwards slightly, leaning over you as his lips dominated yours, rough and sloppy kisses being pressed to your mouth. This was the kind of kiss he’d never given you before, and you couldn’t help the quiet moan that slipped from your mouth and into his, his grip on your hips tightening in response.

When he pulled away from you, you sighed, swallowing thickly as you tried to catch your breath, honey eyes scanning over your face until your eyes opened, fluttering slightly to meet his.

“You’ve been smoking.” The first words that had come to mind had been that to voice the subtle funky and familiar taste of weed that he’d spread to your mouth from his.

“And you’ve been drinking.” His lips twisted up into a smirk as he watched you, unaccustomed to seeing you so flustered and breathless, especially because of him.

“What was that for?” He still held you to him tightly, his fingers now rubbing over your skin lightly, goosebumps in their wake, a shiver moving over your body.

“I just missed you.” He leaned down, his nose bumping against yours and his lips brushed your own, but when you pouted your lips, he pulled back, a wicked grin on his own lips as he watched you, needy and whining as you opened your eyes to look at him once again. His fingers found yours, lacing through them and pulling you away from the table, guiding you through the crowds to the same location you’d come from not half an hour before. Pushing you into one of the stalls, he locked the door behind you both, his hands pushing you up against the wooden walls as he looked down at you, your eyes wide and your body flushing under his gaze. “You didn’t look like this when you left for girls night earlier.”

“Lydia told me I’d look hotter without the jumper and tights.” You mumbled and he hummed, toying with the ends of the dress.

“She was right. You always look hot to me, baby, but tonight, you’re driving me crazy. I should be the only one looking at these tits, other guys were looking at you. At what’s mine. They didn’t even know, that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you, get’s to see your pretty little pussy wrapped around my cock, these beautiful tits bouncing.” His hands trailed up your front as he spoke, squeezing roughly at your breasts, pleasure surging your body, despite the layers of clothing. His words were filthy, sending an animalistic lust through you and you reached up, fingers threading into his hair as you tugged his lips down to meet yours in a wet and sloppy kiss, a groan leaving his lips at the action. He’d never spoken like this before, the fire burning in his eyes had never been present and your thighs were rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the tension building.

His hands found a place on the wall either side of your head, leaning towards you as his body practically pressed up against yours, hot breath washing over your face in steady rhythms and you found it hard to breathe, yourself. Breath was trapped in your lungs as he looked at you, pupils blown with lust and practically black, the soft shining honey that was usually present was gone.

Your lower lip was clenched beneath your teeth, and his eyes dropped from yours to follow the action, a short huff leaving his lips. The rough pads of his fingers smoothed over your skin as his palm cupped your cheek, thumb coming to ease your lip from its confines, running the digit over it. “Stiles, this isn’t like you.”

“Hmm, you don’t like it?” His eyes flickered back up to yours, gazing at you intently and your own widened, your head shaking fractionally in his grasp. Words seemed to escape you, and you gaped at him, watching as his face twisted from slightly nervous to entirely cocky. A dangerous smirk was pulling on his lips and he leaned in further, your eyes fluttering shut and resting against your skin, his doing the same, your lips brushing together with his.

“I-I like it.”

“Good, because I’d quite like to try something. If that’s okay with you?” You pushed away from the wall, your hands coming up to find his neck as your lips met his in a heated kiss. A groan fell from his mouth to yours at the contact, and he pressed further into you, his response instantaneous, lip tracing yours in an attempt to gain further entrance. You parted your lips, just barely, and the response wasn’t enough for him.

His hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them from his shoulders and pushing you back up to the wall, arms stretched high above your head as a gasp was emitted from you. His tongue slipped into your mouth, a moan spilling from you as he did so and his lips pulled up into a smile against yours, your fingers twitching in his hold, wanting to hold onto him. His mouth was rough and fervent against yours, before he finally pulled away, your panting matching his, his teeth tugging on your lower lip as he did.

“I’m the only one who gets to bite this lip. Not you, not any of the guys looking at you along the bar. Only me. Okay?” You nodded, lips parted as he watched you shake excitedly in his grasp.

“What did you want to try?” You whispered, the air between you hot and thick, the cheeky look on his face doing nothing to ease the growing ache between your thighs. You were familiar with this feeling, but never had it been so intense or hot, like a fire curling up your body as your skin flushed, and you wanted nothing more than to peel off your clothes and free yourself of them, get the relief you needed.

“We’ll get to that, princess. Just you wait.” His mouth closed in towards you again, your lips puckering but they didn’t meet his. Instead, his lips found your jaw, your head tilting to the side in a surprised gasp as he sucked at your skin, wet tongue trailing along your jaw and down your throat before biting harshly at the soft skin. He soothed the patch with his lips and tongue, sucking and swirling in lines as you whimpered and moaned in his grasp.

Your body was buzzing, the feeling of his mouth that you knew so well, now working at places he never had before was driving you insane and you couldn’t clench your legs any tighter, a cry of desperation leaving your lips and he tore himself away from where he’d buried himself in your neck to look up at you when you made the sound. “Please, Stiles. I need you. I need you to do something. Anything!” Your words were choked out, your chest rising and falling quickly and he let his eyes run over you to take you in.

“God, you’re already falling apart and I’ve barely even begun.” He almost sounded surprised at the effect he was having on you, his free hand running fingers over you slowly and just barely, running from your stomach to your shoulder, brushing against your breast and your back arched into him. His trail continued up, cradling your face gently as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Okay, princess, I’ll do something. But you have to do something for me, okay?”

“Yes. Anything. I’ll do anything, please Stiles, please just d-” his lips found yours, silencing you as you hummed happily at his touch.

“You keep these hands up here for me. And keep quiet. As much as I love hearing you begging for me, we don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves.” His movements stilled and you lifted your head from where it rested against the wood, cracking your eyes open to look at him. His eyes were on fire with a teasing danger, a look of mischief you’d never seen before painted on his features, one eye dropping into a wink. “Yet, anyway.”

His hand slid down your front, skimming across the bare skin of your thigh before slipping under your skirt and brushing across the crotch of the cotton panties you wore, a cooing leaving his lips at how wet you were. “Sti..”

“Princess, you are just soaked. I don’t think you’ve ever been this wet. Who is this for?”

“All for you, Stiles. All for you. Nobody else gets me this wet, nobody has the same effect on me that you do. You drive me crazy.” You were already breathless, a hum leaving his lips as his touch left your core, tugging your dress up to bunch around your waist before dropping to his knees before you. Your head rocked forwards and your eyes widened, watching him stare up at you cheekily as he leaned forward, the tip of his nose pressing to your clit, the tip of his tongue dragging along your core through the material blocking his access.

You weren’t satisfied, you needed more, but it was something and your muscles eased minutely at the contact. His fingers came up, pushing your panties to the side before he dove in, tongue circling your entrance before pushing in slowly, a squeak leaving your lips as he did so.

His fingers found your clit, pushing against the button roughly and increasing his movements, slurping wetly at your heat and your body shuddered as he did so. You wanted to clamp your thighs together, but his head blocked your movements, a chuckle leaving his lips and vibrating against you at the attempted action. A loud moan left your lips as he did, and all his movements stopped, his touch soon pulling away from you entirely, a desperate whine leaving your lips at the loss of movement. “What did I tell you?”

“To keep quiet.” Your words were a hushed whisper and he hummed, his finger slipping back to your clit and rubbing slowly.

“And what did you not do?”

“Keep quiet.” He hummed again, pressing kissing to the skin of your thigh, biting at the top and tossing one of your legs over his shoulder. You tried to push your core back towards him, missing the newfound ecstasy that was having his tongue lapping at your hole, but he didn’t let you, only leaning back further, the digit rubbing you slowing down until it was barely moving.

“I’ll give you one more chance, okay, princess?” You sighed happily, nodding rapidly and he dove back in, two fingers slipping into your core as you clenched happily around the digits, biting your lips and swallowing down the sounds you were so desperate to release. His mouth replaced the finger on your swollen bud, sucking it between his lips roughly and a soft squeal sounded from you, and adrenaline flooded your body at the thought he might stop, but he seemed to ignore it.

Your stomach was tightening, your hips thrusting up weakly to meet his movements and his teeth grazed against your clit lightly, your hands flying down to his hair as you pulled at the tendrils, muffled whimpers leaving your lips as your nails scratched on his scalp. Your eyes were squeezed tightly shut, a third finger adding to the mix and stretching your walls, your body quaking with anticipation. He pulled back, his fingers working rapidly as obscene sounds filled the room.

You heart shuffling, and he stood up slowly, his fingers never slowing as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face to his as your gazes met. “Come, princess.” The minute the words left his mouth your walls broke, and he met your lips in a heated kiss as a cry made its way from your lips. Your walls hugged his fingers, and he milked everything you could give, continuing until you were slumped against the walls, arousal coating his fingers when he pulled them away, a sly grin on his face.

He tucked them into his mouth, licking them clean before pulling your face back to his, his tongue meeting yours as he made you taste yourself on him, the action only furthering his new dominance and a layer of goosebumps rose over your skin at his newfound personality.

“You broke the rules, baby. I told you to keep your hands up. I let your moans slide, but I think you need a punishment.” His words excited you, electricity jolting through your veins as he smirked at you. You could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, and he seemed to make up his mind. Licking his lips, his hands gripped at your waist roughly, pulling away from the wall and spinning you around.

He turned you in his grasp, your eyes finding his in the mirror that hung over the sink. He swept your hair from your shoulder, his lips trailing over the skin and biting at it, red marks that would soon blossom purple were taking place as he held at your waist, keeping you still. He looked up, eyes narrowing at the sides and one of his hands left your waist, trailing up your back until it rested between your shoulder blades, before pushing you forwards.

A yelp fell from your mouth as your hands flew out to grip at the porcelain and support yourself, your hair framing your face. “Since you can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself, I’ll make sure they stay where I want them. You’re gonna’ need to hold yourself up, princess.” His hands found your hips and he eased your panties down your legs, letting them sit at your knees as he widened your legs for him, a cool air washing over your dripping core. His fingers fumbled with his pants, undoing them just enough to pull his hard cock free. “This time, you can make as much noise as you want.” His tip prodded at your entrance, dragging through the wetness leaking from you and soaking himself. “Tell them all who’s fucking you.”

He thrust forward, filling you in one swift movement and your body jolted forwards, your knuckles turning white in their grip as you tried to hold yourself to the sink. A long moan left your lips as he settled within you, letting you adjust. His fingers wrapped in your hair, clearing it from your face so he could see you in the mirror, and your eyes found his over your shoulder in the reflection. He pulled back, snapping into you just as quickly and a cry left your lips, pleasure surging through you.

Your walls stretched around him, fluttering and hugging his length, a grunt leaving him as he set a brutal pace, his hips snapping into yours. His hand pulled on your hair, keeping your head up and eyes locked on his, the cheeky expression doing nothing but further your joy. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, your moans echoing loudly from the walls of the stall and he only increased his pace, your eyes rolling back in your head.

“Come on, princess, tell them all whose cock is filling you up right now.”

“Stiles!” Your voice was high, and he grinned, fingers slipping around your front to rub at your nub as your body jerked at the sudden stimulation, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your eyes were shut, your jaw dropped open as he fucked the breath straight out of your lungs, fingers holding into you with such passion that you were sure there would be fingermarks there in the morning, and the idea only thrilled you more. Your body fell forward, his arms snaking around your waist to catch you the front of your hips met the cold surface of the sink.

Your cheek met the glass of the mirror, breath fogging up the glass as his hands found the wall beside you, hips losing rhythm as he continued pounding into you rapidly. When one hand slipped down to tug down the front of your dress, your breasts spilling free and his fingers found your nipples, tugging at the hardened peaks and throwing you over the edge.

Juices splattered around his cock, a groan leaving his lips as your walls sealed around him tightly, your arousal dripping down your thighs as you screamed out his name, your hand shakily coming up to rest over his one the wall as he fucked you through your climax. You were seeing stars, colours exploding behind your eyes as you rode through the best orgasm of your life. When he pulled out of you, his hand was working over himself quickly, your head still spinning as he dragged himself to his peak.

You dropped on wobbly legs to your knees, your lips wrapping around his cock and his body twitched in surprise as he looked down at you. His hand left himself, threading through your hair and easing your burning scalp, holding your hair more gently this time as your tongue worked over him, cheeks hollowing. His seed coated your senses in hot and salty streams, and you lapped at everything he gave, swallowing around his sensitive cock as he whimpered, falling forwards in your grasp.

Your movements came to a stop, his cock falling from your lips with a ‘pop’ and he held a hand out to you, weak body pulling you to your feet. He leaned down, tugging your panties back up your slick legs and adjusting your dress, before tucking himself back into his boxers. His jeans hung open, belt still hanging from the loops.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, a dopey smile on your face his arms wrapped around you, lips pressing soft kisses to your temple. Your hands moved between the two of you and tugged up his zipper, fastening the button and leaving the belt undone. “That was incredible.” The words fell from your lips and he laughed gently, pushing you back just enough to capture your lips in a loving kiss.

“I know. I’m glad you liked it, though.”

“How could I not? That was the best sex we’ve ever had. That was the best sex anyone has ever had, ever.” You teased, a slight heat rising to his cheeks at your comments.

“I’m not quite done with you yet. C’mon.” His fingers laced with yours, tugging you from the bathrooms, and towards the table, your friend’s knowing eyes on you both. You navigated through the crowds, the excitement filling your veins was overwhelming, your body was hot and you wanted nothing more than to tear the clothes from your body. The cool breeze of the night sky outside did little to cool your skin, washing over you in waves and yet you still felt breathless, your heart racing in your chest.

You were dazed, and the sound of the jeep being unlocked from the distance the pair of you were at snapped you back into focus. Glancing around yourself, warm honey eyes were watching you as his fingers, laced delicately with your own, tugged you quickly towards the vehicle.

His smirk was wide, and you bit your lip to suppress the sound in your throat that threatened to release, which only spurred him on more. With a jolt on your connected limbs, he sent you tumbling into his side as you stumbled over your own feet, his hands finding your waist as he held you steady.

“You look lost, sweetheart. Did I just fuck all the common sense straight outta’ you?” He teased, licking over his lips and walking you backwards the last few steps, until your back met the chilled metal of the blue jeep. His nose nuzzled along your jaw before coming up to your ear, nipping lightly at it. “How’re you feeling?” The words were whispered, hot breath fanning over your skin and sending shockwaves across you, your back arching up into his chest as you finally let yourself whimper into his ear, a wet kiss being placed to your cheek.

“Like I need cum again, soon. Please give me what I need, Stiles. I need it. Now.” He let out a ragged breath against your skin, his fingers fumbling along the side of the vehicle as he nodded, cheeks flushed as he pulled back to look at you, equally as breathless as he was. He moved out from before you, opening the driver’s door and hopping in quickly. Your hand reached across him, tugging the lever on the side of the chair up swiftly and the leather seat groaned as it fell backwards, his body going with it, a yelp leaving his lips at the action.

Pushing yourself up, you straddled his lap in the chair, pulling the door shut behind you and a groan left his lips when you rolled your hips down into his, grinding against his already semi-hard cock. His hands slipped up to find your hips as your mouth worked along his jaw, nipping and sucking at the taut skin, fingers playing with the buttons of his flannel.

“Here? Really?” He tried to tease, to let out a chuckle, but it morphed into another moan as your fingers scratched across his chest through the material. You were swiftly tugging up the material of his top, pushing it over his head and discarding it to the backseat so you could kiss further down his chest, moving as far back as you could until your back was pressed against the wheel, and he propped himself up on his elbows to watch you play with his jeans and belt once again.

The windows were beginning to fog up, the heat in the jeep overwhelming and his steady fingers replaced your frantic and shaking ones, popping the button and tearing the zipper down. He was painfully hard against the confines of his boxers, tented and a wet patch pooling with precum. You snapped the elastic against him, an aggravated moan falling from his lips at the action and his eyes found yours as his glare held no strength. “Don’t tease me, baby.”

“You teased me.” You retorted, repeating the action as a growl fell from his lips. Without warning, his hand slid along your thigh, pressing harshly to your clit through your panties, no movement, but the pressure alone so suddenly caused you to jump, a whine leaving your lips as you tried to move your hips for friction, but his digit stayed still, bringing you more longing and less pleasure, a sigh falling from your lips as you caved. “Stiles!”

He chuckled at your desperation, pulling his touch away from you entirely, before he was pushing the sodden lace to the side, the fabric burning against your skin slightly as he eased two fingers through your slick folds. “What do you need, princess?”

“This.” You mumbled, cupping him through his boxers and a needy moan left him at the contact, his hips bucking up into you as he nodded.

“Fuck, you got it. Whatever you want, baby.” His words trailed off as he gasped, his fingers easing into your core to stretch you out as you pulled him from his boxers, the elastic pushing against his base as you pulled him out just enough to free his pulsating cock, precum once again dribbling from the swollen and red tip. He pulled his fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth with a smirk and your fist moving over his shaft faltered at the action, your eyes widening as you looked at him.

He wiggled his hips below you, getting himself comfortable as you dragged the throbbing head to your glistening hole, teasing both of you for just a moment, before a growl left him and his hands found your hips.

“Sit your pretty little pussy on my cock before I drag you from this jeep and bend you over the hood for everyone to see.” A loud moan of his name fell from your lips as you happily seated yourself down onto him, a grunt leaving him as your walls clenched around him, unused to the feeling of him from this angle.

Your fingernails dug crescent moon shapes into the pale skin of his chest as you felt his heart thud under your palm, beating rapidly and aggressively. Rocking your hips down, you tested how you felt, never having had any control in this situation before and you quite liked the idea of it. The fingers sitting on your hips flexed as he gripped you tightly, bunching up the material of your dress as he formed fists at the slow motions you were making.

“C’mon, princess, don’t tease me.” You grinned down at him, adjusting yourself slightly until you were able to pick up more of a pace, your jaw dropping at each place he was able to tap inside of you as you rose and fell onto his dick, happily pleasing yourself as he bucked up slightly to meet your motions. You were setting a steady rhythm, your hips slamming with his as each of you moved, your nails leaving scratches on his chest as they raked at his skin, his own hands pawing at your tits and ass as he encouraged your movements, the vehicle squeaking slightly as it rocked angrily in its spot.

The combined sounds of your moans were filling his ears, your name leaving his mouth in growls and grunts as he spiralled with you toward your edge, and you squealed happily as you fell forward and into his chest. Your lips found his in a wet mess of tongues and lips as you kissed sloppy, mouths pressed together and tongues playing as you panted and whispered pleas and begs to one another.

The heat in the car was almost suffocating, the windows dripping with condensation and with one particularly hard thrust into you from Stiles, a scream left you, your eyes rolling back as he chuckled darkly and repeated the action. Your body was on fire, your muscles tight as your orgasm crept through you until it was exploding behind your eyes. You reached out, limbs shaking as you came around him hard, one of your hands smearing across the foggy window as the other ripped at the chair behind him, your body trembling above him and he cried out as your walls clamped around him.

Hot strings of cum shot from his tip and coating your walls, filling you to the brim as your eyes rolled back at the feeling, his thrusts slowing as he slowed his movements to a halt, his cock still sitting snugly inside you. “Holy shit, princess.” He was breathless, a dopey smile on his face as you collapsed onto his bare chest, a weak laugh leaving you as you kissed at his slightly sweaty skin.

“‘Holy shit’ me? Holy shit, you, Sti.” You snuggly against him happily, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips as his hand found your hips. His cock was softening within you, and you knelt up, holding your dress, up as you kneeled above him, his half-hard member slipping from you as the mixture of your two juices ran down the insides of your legs.

He let out a choked noise, and your eyes snapped up to his to see him watching fixedly as your core still clenched and unclenched at the absence, his arousal dripping from you, and his cock twitched just from the sight. With a groan, he tucked himself into his boxers, zipping up his jeans but leaving them unbuttoned and belt loose as he became preoccupied with scooping the fluids that were trailing along your quivering legs up for you to see.

“Open wide for me, baby.” Your jaw dropped on command, and he beamed cheekily as he pushed his fingers between your lips, your tongue swirling around the skinny digits to clean them as you hummed, lapping at your combined essence happily. “God, you’re so perfect.”

You winked at him as his fingers left yours with a ‘pop’, and his hand closed over your cheek, pulling your face down so he could peck at your lips gently, a smile pulling on his features as your body tried to steady your breathing. Reaching down beside his seat, you pulled on the trigger, his body coming up to meet yours as his chair came up its normal position, your chests pressing together as he held you tightly. “So, where did all that come from?”

His cheeks flushed as he pulled away to look at you, jaw parting slightly and he cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze. “I just love you a lot, and I wanted to make you happy.”

“I’m always happy when I’m with you, Stiles. You didn’t have to go to any extra measures.” You whispered, your node bumping against his as you smoothed out the skirt of your dress, reaching past him to claim his shirt from the backseat of the car from him.

“Actually.. this was incredible, and if you liked it, I would definitely like to keep it up.” He mumbled, tugging the fabric over his head as you giggled, letting him press a series of kisses to your cheeks and nose.

“I loved it. We can definitely keep it up, but only on one condition.” He raised a brow at you, a small smirk taking over his features as he titled his head to the side in question, running a hand through his hair as he watched you collapse into the passenger seat beside him with a grin. “I want to go home and cuddle. I missed you, and I’m tired, and I really want some food.”

“How about you stay the night at mine, and we watch Star Wars and order pizza?”

“There’s a very definite reason you have my heart, Stiles Stilinski.” You cupped his face, bringing his lips to yours as he hummed happily at the contact. “We should leave before everyone comes out of the bar and finds the car looking like we hot-boxed it without them.”

He chuckled at your words, nodding in agreement as he fished into his pocket for his keys, pushing them into the ignition and twisting to turn the car on. Leaning forward, he wiped a large hand over the foggy windscreen, clearing the steam you had both created away, and he jumped with a curse as he caught sight of the group standing in the shine of the headlights before the car. “Oh, busted.”

Your brows furrowed as you looked at him, before following his gaze out of the window, a low scream leaving your lips and your hands came up to cover your face as you groaned in embarrassment. With a knock on the window, Stiles rolled it down, a coy smirk on his lips as Malia handed him your bag and jumper, the chuckles of your friends ringing in your ears, and the hoots and hollers from the boys outside sounding loud too as they congratulated Stiles.

He turned to look at you, his eyes sparkling with familiar mischief as he put the car into gear, his hand finding your thigh as he began the drive home, excitement coursing through the both of you at your new discoveries, and what you would try next time.

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Five

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,5k

Prologue   Chapter One   Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four

Time flies fast when you have fun. And I had a lot of fun for a week after the party. Despite the harsh weather, despite the essays piling up, despite the training sessions getting tougher it was all worth it in the end when I was left alone in the Common Room with James, chatting about everything and anything. Occasionally even Sirius, Remus and Peter would join us if they weren't in the mood to go to sleep yet and we would play Chess or Exploding Snap.

Of course I knew I would never be part of their unique friendship quartet but I was glad they would let me join in on their fun from time to time. Though I suspected they mainly missed James and didn't want to abstain from him too much.

One particular evening left me alone with Sirius and a few empty bottles of Firewhiskey after Remus and Peter decided to head to bed early and James insisted on retrieving some midnight snacks, sneaking off with a Disillusionment Charm. How he had managed that spell when we hadn't learned it in class was beyond me. Anyways, this got to be the first time I had ever been in the lonely presence of the school's heartthrob with no one and nothing in the near vicinity to distract him from me.

I swallowed nervously whilst the dark-haired boy seemed pretty relaxed, his posture slouched in his armchair.

"You know, I do wonder sometimes how things come together," Sirius' voice cut into the silence and I looked up from my fiddling fingers in my lap to see him pensively watch the flames flicker around in the fireplace, the light giving his features a warm glow.

"In what way?" I asked quietly, not wanting to somehow interrupt his peaceful posture.

"I mean, the way things have turned out in the end," he said, waving his hand to gesture around us, "Everything that brought us to the point of sitting here in the Common Room of the Gryffindors in the middle of the night. I got the best friends I had ever imagined I would get. Ever." I smiled at this. "I'm a Gryffindor, which is the least likely house a Black would get in. I ran away from home and am living with my best friend the life and with the family I've always dreamt of." Now this wasn't exclusive news. Everyone knew about Sirius' escape from the Black House last summer and that he was staying at the Potter's. I was sure a lot of people had their opinions on it but were clever enough to not voice them out, at least not with any Marauder nearby.

I was a little surprised however that he opened up about it when he had refused to say anything on the matter for the past months. One glance at the empty bottles on the table gave me the answer though. 'Everyone gets a loose tongue after a few drinks. Good thing I don't drink...much.'

"I'm glad you are out of there," I said sincerely, recalling the one time I had been pushed into the boy's locker room by my fellow female, giggling team members and had caught a glimpse of the many bruises on his back. I didn't know why but I immediately had a hunch that those hadn't only been from Quidditch. They had looked too nasty. My attempts to talk about child abuse with him were instantly cut off by the boy himself, the cold glare still giving me chills even in mere memory.

"Me too," Sirius sighed blissfully, "The Potter's are truly the best."

"Now all that is missing is the future Mrs. Black," I teased.

He wiggled his eyebrows, "I have encountered a lot of worthy candidates so far. Wanna be next?"

"Thanks, but I'd rather not catch anything," I replied, wiggling my eyebrows back at him. He gave me a mock affronted look before he smirked devilishly, my breath catching involuntarily at the handsome enhancement of his features, "Don't worry, I wouldn't ever date the future Mrs. Potter."

I almost choked on my spit, "Excuse me?"

"Oh, you heard me just right," he barked out a laugh at my red face, "And you can't tell me there is nothing going between you two."

"Ehm, I can because there is nothing going on between us," I retaliated, forcing down the blush from my cheeks.

"You don't have to hide it from me," Sirius said with a shrug, his shit-eating grin still ever so present on his face and I grimaced at him, "I don't blame you. And the Potter's are the best family you can meet."

"Sounds like heaven," I replied deadpanned and he nodded his head with wide eyes and a straight grin before he reached for his forgotten half-empty glass of Firewhiskey. Sobering up slightly, I pondered on my next words before voicing them out carefully, "Don't you miss your actual family though?"

"Hm?" Sirius hummed but I knew he had heard me clearly, stalling as he took a long sip of his drink.

"You don't have to answer that if you don't want to," I added hastily when I noticed how his features hardened, "I'm just a curious cat, wondering if I could ever leave my family like that."

"Do they abuse you mentally and physically every hour of the day?"

"Ehm...no."

"Then you don't have to wonder about it," Sirius said darkly, "You can consider yourself one of the luckiest people on earth." I kept quiet, watching him close his eyes and breathe in deeply through his nose. 'Maybe I should have just kept quiet like always,' I thought, mentally kicking my tactless ass.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," I apologised softly, looking down at my lap awkwardly. Hearing him sigh made me peek at him through my lashes, "It's okay, Cec." I beamed in relief at the nickname. "My family is just a touchy subject."

"I get it, you don't want anything to do with them," I agreed quickly, trying not to agitate him further.

"It's not that I don't want to...," he sighed for the umpteenth time, rubbing his eyes tiredly, "I just can't deal with them anymore. And Reg..."

"Regulus Black? Your brother, right?" I asked, having heard that name before. Apparently, he took after his brother, being the heartthrob of his year and part of the Slytherin Quidditch team albeit a Seeker.

"Yeah, my little brother," the dark-haired boy said, a smile unconsciously lifting the corner of his lips before they dropped into a bitter frown, "Of course, he is just as brainwashed as the rest of them, all thanks to our dear mother," he almost spat the last word and I winced at the hatred in his tone. At this point, it almost sounded like he was talking to himself, barely realising the other presence in his proximity. "I wish he would have just come with me," he mumbled, a vulnerable look on his face.

"You could still try to be close to him," I offered a weak suggestion, which he immediately dismissed with a scoff/hiccup. "Yeah, right. As if he would listen to me after I ran away. He won't even look my way anymore."

"But-"

"Don't think I haven't tried. He even said we weren't brothers right when I left." I frowned at the crack in his voice, my heart squeezing slightly at the pain in his eyes. Who would have known how much he suffered under all that loud and playful facade of his.

"Maybe he was just mad that you were leaving him behind," I pondered softly, racking my brain about how to make him feel better, "Sometimes we say things in the heat of the moment that we don't really mean." Sirius kept quiet, pensively watching the flames as he refused to make eye contact. I looked away from him, figuring he wouldn't like eyes on him at his vulnerable state, "I think, you two could still be close despite all the differences."

"...You really think so?"

"Yeah, one of you just has to make the first move."

"How do I know he won't reject me?" he asked like a small child, the armchair he sat on suddenly looking too big for him.

I thought it over. The possibility of rejection was definitely there, I wouldn't lie to him about it. After all I knew nothing about his brother's personality. "You don't," I responded, "But the world is full of lonely people waiting for the other to make the first move. And so many bonds get lost because of it. Don't you think that's sad?" His grey eyes snapped over to mine for the first time we had started this serious talk, surprise flickering through them before they were set into something akin to determination.

Before he could open his mouth to say anything though, James came bustling through the portrait hole, his arms packed with various snacks as he giggled like a fool. "Dig in, guys!" he cheered, dropping everything on the coffee table and just like that the serious mood was broken.

I watched Sirius pick up some cookies, munching on them as he chatted up a storm with James about the upcoming Quidditch match. By now, I knew it had been mostly the alcohol that made him spill everything. I just hoped he wouldn't feel too awkward about it the next morning.

The game against Slytherin had packed a punch. The Hufflepuffs' Bludgers were nothing against their aggressive tactics.

Let's just say no player got out there unscathed and the Snitch got caught by Regulus Black - the Slytherin Seeker - just before Angie managed to get a goal that would have gotten us a win if it had only been a few seconds earlier.

I rubbed my sore side where a Bludger had hit me at the beginning of the game as we went inside the locker room, the Slytherins celebrating on the field and laughing at our backs.

"Worst game ever," Frank, who was trudging next to me, muttered and I nodded wordlessly, my eyes watching the stiff back of our Captain as he led us into the little hut.

"This game was pathetic!" James hissed as soon as the door closed to our locker room, "Nothing worked the way we have practiced. Sirius, Frank where the hell were you two when they rained the Bludgers down the Chasers?"

"I-" Sirius started but James continued, still heated, "Oliver? You're the Keeper, right? You are supposed to keep the Quaffles out of the hoops and not hit them through!"

"I didn'-"

"And Angie? Were you even on the field? I couldn't bloody see you once near the opposite hoops."

"James, I was trying everything," Angie protested next to me, "The Slytherin Chasers w-"

"Don't even try any excuses on me," James spat agitated, "I know you want to quit after break but the way you play makes me think you want me to kick you out right now."

"James," I spoke up astonished as Angie sat back with a pissed off look. I knew he could get angry from past experiences during matches but that was straight out rude. "Calm down, we all tried our best."

"Tried your best?" the boy hissed, and I resisted the urge to tell him he sounded like a snake. No, that would probably make him madder, "If that's your best you can say bye-bye to your dreams of becoming a professional Chaser, Cecily. Not even the Montrose Magpies would want you!"

My eyes widened in surprise, his words cutting a knife through my chest.

"James," Sirius started this time, his gaze actually serious for once as I deflated into my seat, feeling more hurt than I had expected, "It's enough now."

The Captain sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm himself. "Fine. Get dressed, we will talk about this at practice next week. Whoever needs to go to the Hospital Wing, stay back. We will go together."

I jumped out of my seat as soon as he dismissed us, rushing towards the girls' room to take a shower and change, his words repeating in my head like a mantra.

"Don't take him seriously," Angie soothed, interrupting the silence around us, "He always gets pissy when we lose a game."

"I know," I said with a sigh, wincing when I touched my side. Angie grimaced at the already bruising spot, "You should get that checked by Madam Pomfrey."

Nodding in agreement, we walked out together.

"Don't you wanna wait for the others?" Angie asked as I kept walking. "No, let's just go," I said over my shoulder, forcing her to concede when I didn't stop.

"Ms. Grant," Poppy greeted me, "It's been a while. I hope you realise, neither the sweets nor Mr. Potter have changed my mind, no matter how persuasive the Pixie Puffs can be."

"It's not that," I replied, shaking my head at Angie when she gave me a questioning look, "I just need to get my side checked."

"Ah, the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor has been today, right?" Poppy remarked, frowning at the sight of my bruise when I lifted my shirt, "Honestly, this game should be banished from school. It always gets way out of control."

"Still nothing that you can't fix," I replied, watching her shuffle through her cupboards after setting me down on one of the beds.

"What was that about Pixie Puffs and Potter?" Angie asked as we waited.

"Just me unsuccessfully trying to get an internship here at the Hospital Wing," I explained quietly as the doors of the Wing opened once more to reveal the other players trudging inside, pushing aside the few Slytherin players that tried to walk in as well. Luckily, they were in too much of a good mood to stir up a fight like they usually would, instead opting to just verbally make fun of the boys in the background.

"Didn't I tell you to wait?" James asked annoyed as he sat down on the unoccupied bed next to us.

"Yes, and I didn't," I snapped back, pissed off at both him and the pain in my side. James opened his mouth, but Sirius clasped his hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. Shooting the grey-eyed boy a grateful look I turned around as Poppy came back, gesturing for me to lift my shirt. I obeyed, hissing as she applied some balm on the bruise but sighing immediately in relief as the pain diminished into a dull ache. "Apply this once more tonight and it should all be well by tomorrow," the matron instructed as she handed me the tube and I thanked her with a quick smile before I hopped off to leave. Bidding the others goodbye, I ignored James' lingering look, particularly at my bruised side, and left to have a quick dinner and head to bed.

This day had been exhausting enough.

The following days were miserable to say the least. The Slytherins were still gloating about their win, classes were hell as nothing went into my brain and on top of that I wasn't on speaking terms with James and therefore, the rest of the Marauders as well.

It wasn't like I didn't want to, but his words had left a sting more painful than the bruise on my side; Bringing up my deepest desire and throwing it back in my face was a big no-go. I almost regretted opening up to him like that and the more days passed with him not talking to me the more I wished I hadn't ever walked up to the Quidditch pitch for that game with a little extra-confident swagger in my steps.

I also wished I didn't have to attend the regular Quidditch practices; James was more commanding than usual, which led us to double laps and longer simulated games until it was pitch black outside. The only bright side was that at least Sirius tried to cheer us all up and even occasionally chatted with me in-between breaks.

"I think something is wrong with Peanut," I mused, adjusting my grip.

"Something is wrong with what?" Sirius asked perplexed.

"Peanut," I repeated, gesturing towards my broom. The dark-haired boy stared at me. "You...named your broomstick Peanut?" he asked slowly, uncomprehending.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just- no matter," he dismissed quickly, his lips twitching in amusement, "Why don't you tell James that something is wrong with Peanut? He can fix it."

Raising a brow, I stated, "First of, Peanut is a splendid name for a broomstick." I rolled my eyes as he burst out into small barks of laughter. "Secondly, I'm not on speaking terms with our dear Captain right now and you know that."

"Yes, I do." It was his turn to roll his eyes. "And I still think it's ridiculous."

"It's not! He mocked me!" I protested.

"Yeah, but weren't you the one, who told me that people say things they don't mean in the heat of the moment?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I don't appreciate you using my words against me!"

Sirius grinned before he turned sirius again, "He was angry, and I can safely say that he did not mean a single thing he's said back then."

"And why isn't he talking to me then? He hasn't even apologised!"

"Because he is also proud ass. Or rather, he doesn't know how to approach you," Sirius snickered and my eyes widened in surprise.

"He doesn't know how to approach me?"

"Yeah, he thinks you are angry at him-" "Which I am!" "-and he is still trying to figure out how to apologise." I stayed quiet, watching the subject of our conversation fly around the field, giving instructions to each player. "If you let it up to him, I would say he will work up his courage by the end of the year. At the earliest."

Later that evening, I decided to stay up after dinner. The others went to bed quickly whilst I sat on my bed with my broom on my lap, contemplating whether I should go down or not. I didn't even know if James still waited at the fireplace as I hadn't been there the past few days but figured it couldn't hurt to try.

Putting my robe over the sleeping clothes, I softly padded outside, carefully taking a peek around the corner into the Common Room after walking down the hallway. The space was empty except for one lonely person lounging on the loveseat in front of the warm fire, the sight achingly familiar.

Swallowing nervously, I gripped my broomstick tighter as I headed down the stairs with purposefully loud steps (as far as possible with socks on). His glass-rimmed eyes snapped over, widening, and he immediately sat up when I approached him.

"Hey James," I greeted him awkwardly, holding my broom in front of me with both hands, almost as a form of protection.

"Hey Cec," he breathed out as if in relief, his eyes rapidly flickering from me to the broom and back to me.

"Um-"

"Come sit," he offered quickly, patting the seat next to him and I obliged, relaxing and simultaneously feeling nervous at the proximity, "Why do you have Peanut with you?"

"Oh, right. Ehm, I think something is wrong with it," I explained, handing it over at his request, "It's not turning as smoothly as it used to."

"Hm, 'might have gotten tweaked during the last game," James mused, brows furrowed in concentration as he examined every inch, "It got hit by a lot of Bludgers, didn't it? Bloody Slytherins. But nothing I can't fix."

"Yeah, I figured that was the cause," I nodded in agreement and his eyes flickered over to me, the fire giving his irises a honey-coloured tone. "What about you?" he asked softly, "Is your side doing better?"

"Perfectly healed, thanks," I informed him, melting slightly on the inside at his concern, "You know Poppy." He cracked a grin at the nickname (causing my heart to miss a beat) before looking back down at the broom, his gaze turning serious.

"Cecily, I...wanted to- you know- I kind of said some messed up things after the game," he stammered slightly, fiddling with the broomstick nervously. My features relaxed at his nervous state and I allowed a small smile as he continued, "I really shouldn't have said what I said- you know the thing with the Montrose Magpies and you- and everything else I said to the others, I didn't mean any of it and I will never do it again, I solemnly swear! I guess, what I'm trying to say- and what I've been trying to say the past few days, but I didn't know how- well first, I figured I should probably give you some space since I never do that with Evans and she always gets madder and madder, but-"

"James," I cut him off and he immediately shut his mouth, "It's alright."

His brown eyes widened, "Really?"

"Yeah, I get it. It's okay."

"You are not mad anymore?" he asked tentatively, staring incredulously as I shook my head, "It's that easy?"

"Well, it can be," I replied with a grin before sighing, "I just don't wanna be mad anymore." And I missed his presence. But hush.

James also sighed, in relief as he leaned back. "Good, I don't think I could have waited any longer."

"Waited? For what?"

"Asking you out, of course."

This time, I really choked on my spit.

Chapter Six

[alderaani]

hi, could you do 34 from the '50 ways to say i love you' with rex please? i love your writing with all my heart, have a nice day ❤️

Hello anon, thank you so much, I hope you are having the best day! This is a somewhat loose interpretation of your prompt, but I really hope you like it! It’s 1:30 on a work day where I am, so this is rough af and unbeta’d, but I had great fun writing it! 

“Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped” - from here

“Fives,” you hissed into your commlink. “What’s your status?”

The line crackled a little bit, like Fives had pulled his comm out of his sleeve. “This is Shriek-Hawk 1 to Squad Leader. Target is still in medical, I bribed Kix three bags of kavasa sweets to perform another concussion check.”

“Three? Fives, I told you I only have two!”

“Yeah, well, he told me to stick that up my shebs. I had to barter him down from five.”

You sighed and went to scrub a hand over your face before remembering the oil smeared across it. You were going to have to pull in a lot of favours to make this work. Like, so many. Maybe it was their upbringing on nutritional paste or just something inherent to Fett genes, but you hadn’t met a single trooper who didn’t have a raging sweet tooth. Trying to separate them from their contraband was about as easy as making a deal with a Sith.

“Hey don’t sweat it,” Echo said from the floor, tongue poking out just the tiniest bit as he fiddled with the inner wiring of the helmet wedged between his knees. “Risk still owes me big for that last mission on Cato Nemoidia. I can get us a bag for his royal highness and a bag to split, no problem.”

“Excellent, Shriek-Hawk 2. See? Nothin’ to worry about.”

Echo rolled his eyes. “Why do I gotta be Shriek-Hawk 2? I was decanted first.”

“Cause I’m takin’ point, di’kut. You nearly done over there? The Captain sounds like he’s gonna climb the walls.”

You scoffed at that. “That’s nothing new, he’s been halfway up ‘em for days.”

There had been an odd, hushed silence when Torrent had come back off the surface of Pijal, the weird kind that always meant someone important wasn’t coming back the same way they left. Your stomach had sunk when you’d seen a familiar blond head on a stretcher; Rex’s face had been pale, and he’d been so small and still. It had lasted for all of five minutes, of course. The second he’d woken up and gotten his bearings he’d been trying to persuade you to ‘break him out of the brig’. You’d threatened to sit on him. Gallingly, he’d been more upset about his ruined helmet than the fact that he’d nearly ruined his own head.

At first, you’d just been mad at him. But he’d looked so desperately disappointed when he’d seen the cracked and twisted remains of his old bucket, so lovingly modified, that despite your best efforts you’d been suckered. Again.

Gods, you were so pathetically gone on him. The biggest hit to your ego was that it was news to literally nobody except for General Skywalker, who wouldn’t have noticed a brick hitting him in the face unless it looked like Senator Amidala. It was one of the galaxy’s greatest mysteries, how he could be so damn good on a battlefield, but so damn oblivious. The only person more oblivious was the stupid object of your affections himself.

“Say, how did you even get these parts, anyway? I haven’t seen a Phase 1 bucket around here for months. Thought they’d all been recalled.”

You grunted, pushing up off the wall you’d been leaning on and dropping down next to Echo as he deftly screwed up the last wiring panel.

“The mechies are hoarders, trust me, you ever want a trip down memory lane you just go look in one of their footlockers.”

“You say that like you’re not one of ‘em.” Echo pointed out, putting down the screwdriver and flexing his fingers. He passed the helmet to you, finished now apart from the infamous visor that Rex had so painstakingly welded onto his last bucket himself. The new parts were all laid out carefully on your bench, freshly separated from the old Phase 1 shell and ready to go.

“Good job Shriek-Hawk 2,” you said, smoothing your hands admiringly over the sleek plastoid. Echo really did know his stuff. “And yeah, I’m just as bad. I actually had most of the parts already, was just the visor that was the problem. Did you know Rex is a bit of a celebrity these days? Makes these bad boys a bit of a commodity, Tirin bled me dry.”

Echo winced. “How bad?”

You sighed gustily and stood up to pop the bucket on the bench, connecting up your welding gear with a series of quick, familiar clicks. “Pretty awful. He cleared out my engine brew stash and I had to trade to nights for the next month.”

There was a sympathetic noise from over the comms. “Damn, you go to all this trouble to seduce the man and you won’t even get to reap the rewards.”

You made a mournful noise of agreement and flipped your face shield down, then paused just before you flicked the flame on.

“Hey Echo, you might wanna face the wall. The light can cause eye damage if you look it straight on.”

It was quick work to weld the old Phase 1 visor to the new helmet, the familiar form coming into being under your steady hands. All it was missing now was the paint, but you knew how important it was to the clones to do that bit themselves, and the whole of Torrent would want to touch up theirs together, to reassure themselves that Rex was really okay.

Just as you flicked the torch off, there was a crackle over the comm again and then Fives’ frantic voice.

“Shriek-Hawk 1 to Squad leader. The Starbird is landing, I repeat, the Starbird is –”

Fives let out a squeak, your only warning before Rex’s rumbling voice was turning you into jelly.

“- the kriff are you talking about, Fives?”

You grinned, putting the torch down and inspecting your handiwork. It was some of your best, if you did say so yourself, and in a mechanic’s language, it was practically a love letter. The seams were so neat you might as well have carved I am burning hot for you directly into the plastoid.

“Hey Captain! Come to the storage cupboard on the third floor. Me’n Echo have got a surprise for you.”

There was an uncertain pause before Rex said your name.

You rolled your eyes, then remembered he couldn’t see it. “Who else? Just come on. It’ll be good, promise.”

“Trust me Captain, you don’t wanna miss this one.”

There was another pause, before Rex said, wryly. “Your endorsement doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence, Fives. But sure, I’ll bite, stay there.”

You looked at Echo, matching his blinding grin with one of your own. The look on his face was going to be beautiful. You both paced the small space together impatiently, tossing tools and little twists of metal into your open bag as you waited for Rex to arrive.

Finally there were voices outside, one eager, one bewildered. The storage cupboard door hissed open, and there Rex was, tall and whole and armoured and beautiful.

“Hey Rex, think fast!” You chucked the helmet at him, ignoring Echo’s shriek of distress.

Rex fumbled, caught it, then stared down at the new helmet in his hands. Over his shoulder, Fives beamed at you. The look of slow joy breaking over Rex’s face like a sunrise made all the bartering worth it.

“You okay, Captain?”

For the first time (but definitely not the last), you’d made him speechless.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Dean Winchester: De

*Credit to gif owner* 

Pairing: BigBrother!Dean x Younger Brother!Sam (Mentions of John, Dean is 8 and Sam is 4) 

Pov: Deans 

Warnings: Fluff, maybe a bit of yelling from John, cute baby Sam, a back story from Deans pov of course

Summary: After Dean spends so much time with Sam as a baby, Sam says his first words.

A/n- Yeah I know the GIF is from the first season, but babyfaces. GIving me vibes

Word Count: 1.1k

Masterlist 

(Deans Masterlink) 

Taglist: @akshi8278​ @deanswaywardgirl​ @hit-meup69 @doctorlilo

Sometimes, Dad yells at me when he comes stumbling in through the motels' door. Yeah, I'm only eight, but I guess I've just had to grow up quicker than a normal eight-year-old.

Sammy my younger brother who's four is always and I mean always attached to my hips. Always asking me when's daddy coming home, or when we're going to get another room? He's a pretty sharp kiddo for being four years old.

I'd say he's a lot sharper than I was at the age of four, but then again I don't remember much about age four. All I do remember is that one day there was our mother kissing Sammy's forehead saying a sweet good night to him, and the next I'm running out with Sammy in my arms, looking at my younger brother's room go up in flames.

I guess not having mom around made things hard for Sammy and Dad. Dad never spent time with Sam, worried about the things in the dark as he phrased it to me.

"Now you promise me, Dean. That you'll take care of your younger brother no matter what!" John said his large hand pressing rather hard into my tiny shoulder.

You'd think Dad would already know that I've taken care of Sammy for the past four years. Taught him how to brush his teeth, color in between the lines took naps with him in the back of the impala, or falling asleep in the crappy motels that always stunk.

"Yes, sir." Was the only thing I ever said to my father anymore.

He wasn't there as Sam took his first steps, his first birthday, he missed his first birthday. I was only five years old, and there I sat in a motel room with a one-year-old who was quiet. Since thank god he was asleep right now.

Hell for a kiddo that was only six months old when our mother, he was strangely quiet like I was. I never said more than what was needed, I always made sure Sammy had his food before I.

I made sure that kid was safe and in caring arms before thinking of myself. Because thinking of myself wasn't allowed, not in this world that Dad had created.

I guessed before we started to bounce from motel to motel Dad had brought some of my things from when I was a baby, like my building blocks, some he-man dolls, and some of the cards that had letters on them.

That's what I did with Sam in my free time, birthdays later and Sam can move the cards around to make the certain word I'm talking about.

"Now how about we do the word 'Carrot'" I said putting the cards out in front of Sam's grabby fingers and hands. Moving things around making the word, and then going off and chucking them out of his hands and all over the floor.

"Well, I thought that this was going to go better," I said getting up and grabbing the cards. We did this process over and over again. I'd hand him a few cards and then Sam would chuck them into the air.

"Okay, Sammy I know that you don't wanna do this but maybe just say one word just for me. Hell, say Daddy, or Dean. Just help me out here." I said, starting to give up.

He didn't and he continued to give me a hard time about the cards and saying pretty much anything. We stopped and I grabbed him from the high chair.

I cooked dinner and set the table and set down Sammy for him to eat. He sat and ate his food before Dad got home.

Again another night of Dad coming back through the motel's door and ragging at me, every time I made sure that Sam was put down for bed.

I was supposed to protect my younger brother and that... that was the only way I know how to protect him. I was okay with taking the brunt of dad's abuse.

The brunt of Dad's abuse was usually him yelling, and screaming at me. There wasn't physical abuse, but I'd been dealing with a drunk, abusive dad for a while now. Since mom had died.

Regardless, I thought that Sam was asleep, so I left the room closing the door just enough so the dim light from the kitchen didn't bother him.

"Where s'my dinner Dean?" John asked me. I stuttered over my words and fiddled with my hands. "Boy, you better answer me!" John said raising his voice at me.

"Sir, I didn't have any time. I've been taking care of Sammy all day long." I said panic and worry starting to flow through my words.

"Boy, don't you make your brother an excuse. You should be able to take care of Sam, me, and yourself." John said, getting up, and hovering over my much shorter stature.

"I didn't teach you everything I did just for you to come out as a sissy. You're a marine's son, you're a hunter's son." John said, raising his hand to hurt me in whatever shape.

I hadn't heard the bedroom door open or seen little Sam waddle his way into the room. "De?" Sam said.

There was a moment of silence. A moment where we, dad and I were frozen in place. "What?" I said looking over at Sam. His already long hair in a messy mop on his head. The long dinosaur t-shirt hanging long on his short stature.

"De?" He said moving his head to the side.

"Yeah, De. What's up buddy?" I said moving rather quickly to be away from John. Picking Sam up and hooking him onto my hip. He just grabbed my neck and pulled himself closer to me.

"Dean was... was that Sam's first word?" He said settling onto the motel bed. The springs became rather loud as his weight balanced through the bed.

"I'm pretty sure, sir," I said, rubbing down Sams back trying to lul him back to sleep. "Do you wanna go to daddy?" I whispered to Sam. All Sam did was shake his head, and then repeated "De."

'Good night dad." I said walking back into the room I had placed Sam in hours ago. "Good night son," John said as I shut the door. "Let's go to bed now Sammy," I said.

Sam nuzzled up in my chest, falling asleep before he even hit the bed. I smiled and climbed into the bed. Making sure to always be there and protect my little brother. I love Sam, and he’s mine to protect, he’s my baby brother.

Completed on: 04/18/2021

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

More Than Allies

Prompt: If you ever consider writing for the Sweetheart AU again (it's completely ok if not) I'd love love love to see a time where Frisk was the one to comfort Sans by being their pure, adorable self; there's just something lovely to me about the thought of Frisk realising Sans is sad and knowing exactly how to help him - anon

DISCLAIMER: This is part of a Flowerfell!AU I've got on my Ao3. I'm not posting the rest of them on here because that would take too much time and I ain't about to clog up y'all's dashes with that shit. SO imma link to this work AND the series on Ao3 so y'all know where this fits

Read THIS on Ao3

Sweetheart series

Warnings: this is a flowerfell!au, where Frisk has flowers growing out of them, so slight warning for body horror but nothing graphic

Pairings: all gen

Word Count: 1650

Patching up wounds is one thing. So is keeping someone alive.

But making them happy?

Whoever invented the concept of snow seriously needed their head dunked in a bucket of the stuff. For at least a day. When they could deal with having cold shit shoved into places it shouldn’t be shoved for hours on end, then they could say that they made a good decision.

Sans continues to grumble to himself as he trudges back through Snowdin. Grillby’s place isn’t inconspicuous enough right now, seeing as he just spent most of the night there looking after the child.

“…you better be keeping ‘em alive in there,” Sans mutters, turning the corner to make it to the edge of the town, “or else i swear, grillbz…”

He doesn’t bother finishing the threat. He knows the fire monster would burn the entire fucking town to the ground before letting harm come to someone under his protection. Hell, Sans has seen that explosive rage once or twice. He’s not very keen on seeing it again, especially not if he’s on the wrong side of it.

As he walks, his hand finds its way into his pocket, absentmindedly fiddling with one of the bandaid wrappers.

Shit.

He swerves around one of the icebergs—flipping off the wolf as he did so, he received a threatening snarl for his troubles—and hustles down the path in the bottom of Waterfall. The mushrooms blink innocently as he tromps down the path, finally making it to Temmie Village.

One of the Temmies looks up at him and snarls.

“yeah, yeah,” Sans grumbles, “i just got business with the shop. keep your temmie flakes in order.”

Luckily the Temmies still seem to hate the red glow of his eye. The rest of them part easily as he strides into the shop. The cardboard box hiding the real shop front is still soggy and mold-eaten, much like the Temmie behind it. It glowers at him as he pulls out the payment.

“wouldn’t kill you to keep it a little less decrepit.” He glances around at the artfully arranged trophies on the walls. “though it might make it harder to excuse not cleaning your shit.”

The Temmie just glares at him. Sans shrugs, the absence of the child cold at his side.

“just sayin’.”

The Temmie grumbles something Sans doesn’t understand as it puts the package on the counter. Sans nods and turns to go, thanks forgone. He’d paid. And the Temmies tended to get word after dark anyway, so he’s better off just hurrying back to the child.

‘Child.’ Yeesh, he sounds so fucking formal.

Well, Sans thinks as he scrambles into the cave and restocks the first-aid kit, death does have a way of making things sound really fucking formal.

The kid could’ve died.

Yeah, yeah, he fucking knows, they’ve died too many fucking times already. The flowers aren’t going away any time soon and they’re hurting. But that’s different. It’s different watching them die.

Sans growls as he forces one of the long gauze strips into the plastic box. The hinges wheeze and groan in protest as he finally jams the thing shut again and stuffs it under his coat. He’s been away too long. He’s out of practice.

Not at killing motherfuckers, no, he’s got that down pat. But caring.

Shit, is he even doing this right? The kid’s practically glued to his side day in and day out, partially at his bidding but mostly because the kid just decided his hoodie is perfect to cling to. It’s no different than that damn stick they won’t fucking leave behind. It’s like another limb or something.

…and he would be lying if he said the kid didn’t feel like another limb too.

Sans grits his teeth as he makes it to the shortcut chamber. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps out a quick message.

me: package in tow

hothead: Too many customers wait for 22h00

Sans sighs and slumps back down. There are just not enough hours in the goddamn day, apparently. He’s got a bone to pick with whoever invented time keeping the way it is too. Seriously. Sometimes it really got under his non-existent skin.

“time is fake,” he grumbles to himself, hand going to his pocket again, “so fake.”

He has to stifle a wince when the expected tug on his sleeve doesn’t come.

When did he get so fucking attached?

…okay, listen, when a kid growing fucking flowers out of them decides they’re your friend now, they’re your friend now. Sans doesn’t make the fucking rules, he just follows them.

That doesn’t mean he knows what he’s doing.

The kid seems to remember what happens when they die. They always come back looking a little different—more flowers—but they seem to know what’s going on. Of course, that doesn’t mean Sans always knows what’s going on, but he knows enough to recognize the way they seem a little more sure of themselves. Which is good; that means they won’t be walking defenseless into any big shit storm, but that also means that if he fucks up, they’ll remember.

That’s the part he’s worried about.

He’s been doing okay…hasn’t he? He remembers they like Echo Flowers, they like the quiet burble of Waterfall, he always keeps an extra blanket at his Sentry stations, he keeps them the fuck away from his brother, and they…they like his voice.

He talks to them when he can. They seem to like being able to hold onto him—which, okay, he gets. He can’t imagine not being able to see anything, much less be a kid and have to rely completely on someone who might just kill you.

Unbidden, a bone forms in his hand. He growls and puts it away.

No. Never.

A buzz from his pocket startles him out of his thoughts. Grillby informs him he’s good to come over and he doesn’t waste another second before teleporting straight to the fire monster’s backdoor.

“Good,” Grillby mutters, already striding upstairs, “they’re almost awake.”

“any changes in their condition?”

“They’re almost healed. They’ll make a full recovery. Well…” Grillby trails off as he sits back down in the chair. “Except for…”

Grillby doesn’t need to finish. Sans’s SOUL clenches as he looks at the kid lying on the couch. They look so…so…

…fragile.

The flowers haven’t grown anymore, at least not that he can see. As he watches, a few of the petals catch the very edge of Grillby’s flames and the purple light makes them look almost white.

“how long’ve they been asleep now,” he mutters, “twelve hours?”

“Nearly.”

Sans mutters a curse and scratches the back of his skull. If they don’t wake up soon…

No sooner does the thought cross his mind—and get swatted away with the force of a blaster—the kid starts to shift on the couch.

“easy, sweetheart,” he says, worry growing in the pit of his chest as he watches them shift, “hey, kid. kid.”

“They’re having a nightmare?”

Sans bites back another curse and rushes forward. “hey, hey, sweetheart, it’s alright, i’m here.”

As soon as he gets closer, his chest starts to glow a soft white. Grillby stifles a noise of surprise as the kid reaches up for him, wrapping their hands around the lapels of his hoodie and pulling. Sans eases himself down onto the floor next to the couch and lets them bury their face in the fluffy lining of the hood.

“Shh, shh, sweetheart,” he rumbles, his hand coming up to steady them, “it’s okay, nothing’s gonna hurt you, ’s just me and grillbz here, we ain’t going anywhere.”

There’s a soft sigh against his clavicle and then clumsy signs appear in front of his sockets.

“you want me to talk to you, sweetheart?” A little nod. “uh, okay. there’s a, uh, a new cave in waterfall we should check out.”

Their little hands settle in his hoodie as he murmurs to them, their head starting to loll against his shoulder. He hears Grillby stand up and come over as well, hushing the kid’s confusion with a quick explanation that it’s okay, they won’t be hurt, Grillby just needs to check their wound.

The kid just tugs on their sleeve. They butt their head lightly against Sans’s and slowly reach out.

“what, you wanna hold my hand, kid?” Fingers twine with his. “okay, then.”

Grillby chuckles over his shoulder only for it to choke off when the kid grabs for his hand too.

Sans laughs. “guess you’re stuck now too.”

“…worse fates I can imagine.”

There’s another little tug on his SOUL. He frowns, looking back at the kid’s face, only to see their head aimed at the spot on his chest where his SOUL would appear. Then they lean forward and—

“Wow,” Grillby chuckles again, “you’re in this bad.”

Sans, cheeks still warm and bright red from the kiss pressed to his forehead, just stares. The kid seems to be satisfied with the light mortification they’ve just caused. Nodding proudly to themselves, they settle back on the couch. One hand firmly in Sans’s, one hand in Grillby’s. Without being prompted, Sans cards his free hand through their hair, smiling as they let out a hushed sigh, head flopping back onto the pillow.

“They trust you,” Grillby says, something like awe in his voice, “they really trust you.”

“…seems so.”

And yet, even though Sans will readily admit he has no idea what he’s doing still, he wouldn’t give it up for all the hot dogs in the multiverse.

[strawberrycow-simp]

What’s your favorite candle?

Please have mercy on me, I am a simple person and these stories that are about to come out are due to a challenge created by my friend and I. ( @simpnation-jpeg ) therefore a series of stories will come out by us, every week. So I apologize in advance, you can stomp on me with stilettos if you hate it. Oh, also it’s shinsou x reader oneshot😳🕯

Summary: Shinsou has been ridiculously busy with hero work. Though he makes time for you.... he doesn’t make enough time for you in the bedroom. In a fit of neediness you decide to rile him up while he is doing work........

Warnings: candle play.

Everyone loves candles. There’s all kinds of different aromas and colors. You’ve got pink for flowers or yellow for lemon and even blue for ocean breeze! But you, oh, precious you, you loved lavender candles. The way the purple wax melts and the flame flicks it’s almost too enticing to watch. However, were your intentions pure with the candles? Yes. Yes the were, but Shinsou saw your obsession with candles differently. He’s always wanted to see you wither and whine under his gaze as he drips the warm wax over your breast, pinning you down with fuzzy cuffs, and overstimulating you with the candle and his touch. Shinsou was filthy, he felt filthy for thinking this way with your cute collection of candles. He wanted to try it too but never had a good reason to do so.... but with you acting like a little horny shit while he’s doing paper work, god you gave him so many reasons to punish you. Pray that your oh so sadistic boyfriend gives you the attention you crave and maybe a satisfying release, if you act like a good girl.

It’s Saturday night, close to nine, and your lovely boyfriend is pounding away.... but he’s not pounding you. Dearie no, he is pounding his goddamn keyboard for his paperwork that he has to fill out as a hero. You know it’s a little unreasonable to be puffy about some paper work but Shinsou has been so busy lately. You pout to yourself as you peak into Shinsou’s work area which is a semi-light room surrounded by bookshelves and a vintage couch in the corner with a nice desk in the middle of the room. Dressed with candles that you begged Shinsou to keep because “old leather smells funny.” Placed neatly on the desk is a computer, and Shinsou’s eyes are glued to it, not even noticing your small figure in his peripherals. You being a sweet and seductive person, you had put on one of his button ups and a loose black silk tie around it, waltzing up to him with nothing underneath and your hips swaying. Anyone would be drooling over you right now but you don’t want just anyone. You want your purple headed boyfriend to bend you over and have his way with you, to be fucked dumb. Is that too much to ask for?

“Babyyyyyy” you whine as you start to fiddle with his hair and stand behind the back of his chair. Shinsou sighs softly.

“Yes, baby?” He turns and looks at you briefly, then turns back to his work.

“When will you be done? I wanna hold youuuuu” you drag out your words.

“Soon, have patience, kitten.” He says absentmindedly and continues.

“I don’t want to wait,” you lean down near his ear and whisper absolute filth, “I want you to take me now and rearrange my insides please.”

“Don’t act like a spoiled brat (y/n)” Shinsou smirks slightly, “you can sit in my lap until I’m done.”

“I’m not a spoiled brat, thank you!” You grumble and crawl into his lap, straddling him, your bare cunt touching his clothed cock. You smile mischievously and bury your head in the crook of his neck, kissing his soft skin gently and grazing your teeth against his weak spot where the collarbone and neck meet. Grinding innocently against him for friction that you are starved from. Shinsou let’s you grind a few more second until he puts a firm and bruising grip on your hip, stopping you in your tracks. Squishing the tender flesh as he talks.

“(Y/n), what the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say innocently. But Shinsou knows exactly what you are doing and as hard as he is working right now he really doesn’t need you as a distraction. He wants to finish. He wants to hold you close and love you like you need him too. He wants too so bad.... but he needs to complete his work. Shinsou is whining to himself on how he could just put it off. He doesn’t listen to the little incubus in his head.

“Kitten, if you can’t act right then you’ll have to be punished. You understand right?” He scowls in your ear and holds you closer with his left arm and you nod against his neck.

“Yes master.” You whine but deep down you knew you weren’t going to act like a sweet pillow princess. You know what you want and if it takes a punishment to get it then that’s what you’ll do.

Shinsou sighs and continues with his work, controlling his will to fuck you senseless. Forcing the sinful thoughts to the back of his head. You had other plans though. You trail your hands over his chest, slowing down to palm him. His limp cock slowly getting harder as you do. You grind faster on his thighs, letting out soft whimpers and your nipples start to perk under the shirt. His thighs allow delicious friction on your clit. Clinging to his shoulders and practically crying in his ear.

“Fuck.” Shinsou growls and grabs your waist with a bruising grip. His patience has snapped into two. Completely throwing away all sensible thoughts into the gutter and work can be done another night. He pulls you away and suddenly you are pinned to the desk. Shinsou gazes at you like he’s been starved and you’re his meal and with a frown. “You know kitten.... I told you to behave but you just had to go and act like a little slut on my lap. Tell me, did you feel good?”

“Yes master,” you nod pathetically in your horny haze “please, I just, I need it so bad, I need you so bad...” little tears spill over as you grind against nothing.

“Nuh uh, you know what the deal was. It’s punishment time...” Shinsou pulls the silk tie from your neck and ties your hands behind your back, watching you lean against his chest to hold you up. He unbuttons the front of your shirt leaving your bare breast exposed as he just stares, fucking you with his eyes. He grazes his hands against your slightly parted lips and pushes them in. He smirks a little as he feels your soft tongue against them. He pulls away and grabs your waist. Guiding you to the vintage couch, laying you on your back. Shinsou runs his fingers up and down your body, he then slams his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like coffee and you can’t help but whimper with the way he has your mouth filled. He pulls away and starts walking towards the desk, watching you quiver from the cold air touching your bare breasts.

“Kitten. What’s your favorite candle?” Shinsou picks up the lavender one, already knowing the answer. But you just look at him incredulously. Did he just say that? However, you play along.

“Hitoshiiiii, you know which one is my favorite” you roll your eyes but shinsou looks at you and carries the candle over to you. He stands over you holding the candle above you.

“Kitty~ you know why I have this, right?” He looks at the candle and back at you. Then you smile innocently. “No?”

“Well, I did say you needed a punishment,” shinsou leans down and kisses you softly, “now it’s time to pay up.”

Shinsou pours candle wax over your boobs. It runs down the curves and through the valley of them. The heat makes you squeal in shock but you like pain. It sends electricity to your cunt. Making you wetter than before as you arch your back.

“No moving.” He commands as he starts to pour it over your sensitive nipples. You whimper and whine like it hurts but you are so aroused.

“M-master, touch me please.” You stare at him with begging eyes. Shinsou loves you so much, it’s to the point he doesn’t even know how to contain it anymore and sometimes he wants to make just pure sweet vanilla love to you. This was not one of those times. Shinsou’s spreads your legs forcibly, softly circling your clit with just enough friction to get you going. He knows what you love, always observes you, and pays attention to your details. Like the curve of your thighs and the plush skin on your stomach. He adores every about you and loves the way to twitch away from the candle with every drop he spills on you. He has now moved to your inner thighs, pouring it all over them watching you try to close your legs but you can’t because of his rules. It’s almost amusing to him how much you struggle. You’re quivering now as Shinsou gets rougher with your clit. Practically abusing it as you’re grinding against his hand. Wanting to be full of him, stuffed to the brim with his thick cock. Unfortunately before you get a sweet release from the tight coils in you, he pulls away and you struggle to get out of the tie and touch. You want to feel him so bad that it pains you. Shinsou puts the candle on the side table next to the couch as he reaches behind you and unties the silk tie. Shinsou kisses you like there’s no tomorrow and you wrap your hands through his soft hair, tugging gently and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away, removing his shirt, pants, and boxers as fast as humanly possible.

“Princess, you’ve been such a good girl...” Shinsou whispers into your neck as he hovers over you, kissing it and biting it gently. He lines his cock up with your hole and bottoms out, all in one go. He wanted to do foreplay before fucking you but seeing you become unraveled on his cock was way more satisfying. The stretch for you is delicious instantly hitting that sweet spot in you that lets you finally cum. Tightening and quivering on his cock, moaning out slurred and incoherent words. It was a lovely view for Shinsou as you tousled his hair in your hands, clinging to him so close that your chest was against his. Shinsou honestly could’ve cum instantly, but he didn’t want to only last two seconds. He thrusts in and out slowly, your walls clinging to him, feeling sensitive from your last orgasm. Then Shinsou starts dirty talking to you like the kinky man that he is. Slowly building up his pace as his orgasm builds up. He starts to pound into you like he wants to break your spine. With a last few sloppy hard thrusts Shinsou cums right against your cervix as you cum with him. He pulls out and then kisses you gently along with the marks he made. Loving you sweetly during the aftercare. Proving this night to be a very interesting one.

Hey so. I’m sorry that was so short. If you want something in more detail or a request of some sort to ahead and leave me a message or a request! Thank you!!!!

[ser-zaltynn]

read it on ao3

Ship: Sansby (Grillby x Sans - established) Characters: Sans, Grillby, Papyrus Summary: Grillby closes early to go pick up Sans for their first official date Words:  1495

He closed much earlier than he intended. Initially, he was planning to close after the supper rush, which he thought would leave plenty of time for his date. He’d been spot cleaning every inch of the restaurant throughout the day, specifically so he’d be able to close the restaurant on time to this schedule. However, a while before the dinner rush usually came by, the last customers filtered out, two of them giving him a smile and a cryptic ‘good luck’.

Grillby was left in an oddly silent restaurant, the habitual warmth only present in temperature. He flickered, wishing for a moment for Sans to be there. The small skeleton had spent many a closing with Grillby, seated casually at his stool and sharing puns and stories, or the occasional retelling of a nightmare. The flame flickered, shaking his head. There was a reason his restaurant was so oddly empty. He pushed an anxious worry out of his mind, and fetched his coat, gloves and boots. His phone was retrieved from his coat pocket, a slew of puns waiting for him in the form of text messages. Clearly Sans was in a good mood today, the messages coming in one after another. A smile split his face as he read through them, most of them bar-related. Grillby would never know how Sans knew so many jokes and plays on words, constantly having new material to share, only using what he dubbed as ‘classics’ over and over again. Those were typically bone-related.

His hands hovered over the keyboard for a minute, his mind blank for what to say. Was Sans busy right now? What would he do if Sans had changed his mind? Grillby tried a few things, before settling on ‘I’m on my way, is that alright?’

The response was immediate; ‘*ok, c u soon’.

His soul fluttered, a quick breath escaping Grillby. He dressed for the weather, and stepped outside, locking his restaurant behind him. He fumbled with the keys, double checking that no one was around and wanted in. Grillby tucked his hands into his pockets and started the short trek across town. He could feel his soul tremble, and he couldn’t help the few ‘what if’s that entered his mind. He didn’t think he should feel as nervous as he did, as though he was still in his stripes, abashedly holding his parents’ hands as they took him to his first day of school. It was utterly inexcusable, comparing this moment to years of running a business, dealing with drunk late-night stragglers, or even going to war. It was silly. It was-

His flames flickered, popping quietly in the cold evening air. He tried to focus on the crunching of snow beneath his boots, getting him closer and closer to his destination. Closer to the moment he would face who would be answering the wreath-adorned door.

… this wasn’t helping.

It was just a date. Grillby has been on hundreds of them before, he knew exactly how it would play out. He would knock on the door, wait for an answer, say something nice, ask if they’re ready to go, and then go. Easy.

He paused, standing in front of the decorated two-story home. Was he really here already? Adjusting his gloves, he wondered if he should have brought flowers. No, that was too old-fashioned these days, and Grillby probably would have wilted them by now with his heat.

Besides, Sans didn’t like flowers.

The door was ripped open as Grillby raised a hand to knock, revealing a beaming Papyrus. The flame monster was pulled inside, the door closing behind him with a slam. In a spin, the skeleton had undone the flame’s coat and threw it gracefully onto a hook on the wall.

“Hello, Grillby!” Papyrus grabbed both of the elemental’s hands in a clasp, bending into his personal space. “I see you are here to waltz my brother away on a magical and fantastic first date, correct?” The tall skeleton gave Grillby a grin.

“…uhm-” Grillby blinked, needing a moment to let his mind catch up with his body.

“Of course you are!” Papyrus continued, completely fine with filling the air with his own chatter. “I trust that you have a distinctly non-greasy place of nourishment chosen for the evening, and that you will return my brother at a reasonable time-”

Grillby smiled, wasn’t it the older brother’s job to say all this?

“- and do be careful, I know Sans has been having one of his good days, but we don’t want it to go sour at the last minute! He has my number, oh! I should give you mine! Just in case!” Papyrus dragged Grillby into their loud living room -it was the only word the flame could find that suited the terrible carpeting- and all but shoved him onto the surprisingly soft couch.

The younger skeleton finessed his hands, showing off his red gloves that matched his sweater. He dug out his phone, and held it out for Grillby. With a quick exchange, Grillby was able to move on from the odd role reversal when Sans came downstairs. He was dressed in his usual, but Grillby didn’t really expect him to fancy up for a simple date. Sans was also wearing a pair of sunglasses, oddly enough. Grillby could see they were taped to the side of his skull.

Papyrus turned quickly, greeting his brother, “Sans! About time, your date is waiting!”

Sans shrugged, hands deep in his pockets, “sorry bro, was just makin’ sure i had everythin’.”

Papyrus watched his brother shuffle closer, crossing his arms. “You were setting up another joke, weren’t you? What is with the sunglasses?”

Sans grinned, giving Grillby the a pair of finger-guns. “don’t wanna be blinded by the star in the room,” he winked, watching Grillby’s flames burn slightly yellow.

“…Sans, please.”

“Sans, now isn’t the time for this!” Papyrus gave an impatient stomp of his foot. Grillby noted the striped orange and red socks, and wondered if he’d ever seen Papyrus barefooted before now. “Do you want to scare your date off before it even begins?”

“impossible, g wouldn’t shoot so low.”

The taller skeleton grumbled, “You’re stretching for those.”

Sans simply shrugged a second time. “well, g, ya ready to go?” The shorter skeleton still had to look up a little to meet his date’s face, despite Grillby sitting.

“Wait!” Papyrus ran off to his room suddenly, shouting as he went, “This is a momentous occasion, it needs to be remembered!”

Grillby shook his head, chuckling. It was amusing how excited Papyrus was for this. The pair was planning on this to be a simple occasion, but clearly Papyrus wanted a say in it all. It was good to see the brothers get along so well, Grillby having rocky relations with his own family.

Grillby looked to Sans, who grinned. He returned a small smile, and the flame leaned over to place a kiss on the skeleton’s forehead. Watching the yellow flush cross Sans’ cheeks always made Grillby’s fire crackle happily.

Papyrus loudly bounded down the stairs, carrying a small Polaroid camera. Its surface was dented and scratched, obviously having been found in the dump and repaired to a functional state. Grillby suspected it was Sans, as he knew the skeleton was smarter than he let on. Papyrus gestured for Grillby to stay put, and lifted Sans up onto the couch himself. “Stay right there,” he backed up, and looked through the viewfinder of the camera. He lowered it for a second, “Don’t forget to smile!”

Sans chuckled, used to Papyrus’ antics, and offered a wide grin.

Grillby fiddled with his hands again, his fire popping. “…don’t photograph well,” he told them, but the camera already flashed.

Sans pat him on the shoulder, “it’s fine, grillbz. paps prolly wouldn’t let us leave without it-” he hopped down from the couch.

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Papyrus put a hand to his chest, looking insulted. “It’s only the brotherly thing to do- it’s not everyday that your brother goes on his very first date ever-”

“yea, ok, thanks for the pic, see you in a few hours, bye!” Sans cut Papyrus off, grabbed Grillby’s hand, and pulled the flame off the couch, toward the door. Grillby could never tell if it was that he was lighter than he thought he was, or that Sans had a surprising amount of strength in his frail frame.

Grillby gave Papyrus a wave goodbye with his free hand before he grabbed his coat, following Sans outside. He watched as Sans pulled up his coat’s hood, hiding the yellow glow spread across his skull.

He smiled as he fell into step next to his date. “…really your first date?” he asked.

Sans sighed, avoiding his gaze. “maybe…”

Grillby glowed, placing a hand on Sans’ shoulder. “…make it one to remember,” he promised.

Sans grabbed Grillby’s hand, his bones engulfed by the other’s gloves. “‘m sure ya will.”

[museswithinx]

‘  i’m not mad, i just wanna know where you’ve been. that’s all.  ’ { Quinn for Mikayla bc dad thingsss }

A meme forever lost to the hoard

After Becker left, Mikayla gathered everything she needed for a summoning spell and slipped out Nan and Pap's back door unnoticed. Normally she'd loop Sawyer in on any spells she was doing, but she didn't want her sister anywhere near this one. There was risk in contacting Milo and she'd rather he never laid eyes on her.

Travelling a little ways into the woods out back, she stopped in a small clearing and began to set up shop. She set up the candles first for light and to draw from before drawing a circle in the dirt with a stick to match the one in her book. Once that was done, she grabbed the knife out of her bag. The spell called for something that belonged to the person. Mikayla had nothing of Milo's except for herself. Bringing the blade to her hand, she shut her eyes and took a sharp breath as she sliced her palm and let the blood sprinkle over the center of the circle. Then she quickly wrapped it with some gauze.

When everything was all set, she stepped back from the circle and began. Reciting the words from her book, the flame from the candles grew hotter. She continued to chant as the wind picked up blowing leaves and dirt all around her; the fire becoming more intense. Then finally, everything went quiet and he appeared.

"I want to make a deal." She said wasting no time with niceties. They were way past that. "You came to me before cause you wanted something from me: Life. If you can do something for me, then I... Will do the spell for you.” Milo made a whole show of ‘thinking’ about it and she wanted to seriously strangle him. Just as she knew he would though, he accepted and she dove into the terms. “My brother Will is missing. He was taken and we don’t know where he is. I know for ghosts it’s different and you’re not bound to the Underworld like the others cause you’re human. Speak to other spirits, do your teleport thing or however it is you get where you need to go, and find him. You find him for us, I’ll do the resurrection. But only if you find him.”

Again, he seemed to consider that, but ultimately he agreed. She wasn’t sure if it would work, but for Will’s sake, she prayed it would. “Okay. We have a deal. We’re done here for now, so go do. Come find me when you have something.” 

---------

Sneaking back inside, she couldn’t have been gone more than hour, but it was enough to have drawn attention. As she stepped into the room she’d been staying in, she found Dad waiting for her. “I was...” She starts. “Out for a walk?”

‘  i’m not mad, i just wanna know where you’ve been. that’s all.  ’

“You might be when I tell you...” She mumbles quietly as she sets her bag down. That was when his eyes drifted to her bandaged hand. “I... summoned Milo. To talk.” She admits with her gaze downcast as she nervously fiddled with her fingers. “To make a deal, actually.” 

She took a breath knowing he wouldn’t be very happy about the next part. “I said if he could find Will, I would, um, do the spell. The resurrection spell. But only if he found Will and told us where we could find him.” She didn’t dare look up. “He’s a spirit, he can teleport and probably has access to information we don’t. When Sam was in the in-between, he said he thought about his family and suddenly he was at the house with them. I thought maybe... You know.”

She felt so helpless and on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry. I know it was stupid but I had to do something.”

[bigboomboi]

Bink- Bakugo x Reader

Bakugo raised an eyebrow at the naturally quiet girl, fiddling with the end of her top. She jumped when he called out to her; “Oi, you just gonna stand there takin’ up space, dumbass?”

More anxiety twisted her lips as Y/N blushed and still didn’t move. He was about to snap at her again, but caught the sight of his friends walking up to the table. His eyes drew her attention behind her and she squeaked before turning back to him. He opened his mouth to tell her off and she suddenly lurched forward, poking his nose softly.

“Bink.”

Just as quick as she did so she was gone. She opened a small warp and disappeared, leaving Bakugo mouth opened and eyes staring in her place. Kirishima slipped into the seat next to and went to close his mouth for his, jokingly, but got his hand slapped away.

“What’s got you looking like a fly trap?” Denki laughed. “What was Y/N doing over here?”

Bakugo huffed and crossed his arms. “The shitty girl poked my nose and said ‘blink’ or something.”

“She what?” Mina gasped, excitedly.

“Poked my nose and ran off. It was weird as shit.” Bakugo glared over in the odd girl’s direction, watching her hide behind Uraraka.

Mina clapped excitedly and leaped up to explain when Denki ripped her down into her seat, covering her babbling mouth and holding her down. Bakugo glared at them, more confused than ever.

“Why the fuck did she ‘blink’ my nose?” He asked eyes narrowed.

Denki grimaced as Mina licked his hand but still held it closed. “Ah, well, that’s just… That’s just Something Y/N does. She’s done it to everyone at least once in the class.”

“Yeah, she probably realized she’s never done it to you and didn’t… want you to feel… left out?” Sero tried, slowly piecing the sentence together, partially confused at the struggling students

Mina babbled from behind Denki’s hand and he only held her tighter, until Bakugo reached forwards to rip his hand off her mouth. “It’s not ‘blink’ it’s ‘bink.” Mina panted due to her struggles.

“That still doesn’t tell me what the fuck it is.” He growled.

“It’s just a word. She pokes you and says ‘bink’. Y/N’s done it since she was a kid.” Denki explained, only telling half the truth, before Mina could say it all.

So, despite being annoyed by it, he was curious. He wanted to know why they didn't want him to know what it was. He wanted to know why she did it to him. Granted, he could tell Mina and Denki knew, it was apparent they weren’t going to tell him. So, he was determined to find out himself.

He watched her interactions with everyone in the class, and sure enough, she did do it relatively often. She’d poke her forefinger into someone’s forehead, or cheek and he could clearly see her mouth form the word she squeaked out at him. Everyone seemed to welcome the gentle, strange action, as if it was an everyday occurrence. Was it? Why had he never noticed before?

Why had he not noticed her before?

She'd began doing it to him more often as well, and a few others seemed a bit surprised that she did so and for the life of him he couldn't figure out what the deal was. He grumbled at her whenever she did the stupid motion, but it didn't deter her from it. Eventually, when he just started to accept the oddity, she actually started to bink him more than everyone else as she had slowly merged into his everyday life.

As a greeting in the morning. Each time she passed his desk in class. At lunch before everyone sat down. After training if she happened to see him. Sometimes Y/N would stop and fidget for a moment, and even though he had time to get away, he stayed and let her touch his face with her finger.

He honestly thought the several binks on his face in sequence were just to aggravate him, after she realized he'd let her do it. Especially when she gave him a quick three on the corner of his mouth. Usually snapping at her got her to stop. But observing her interaction with Todoroki made him question her actions more.

Y/N binked Todoroki’s forehead several times in a row, and he looked at the bandage on her own head and muttered something he couldn't quite catch. She nodded softly and he leaned down and kissed her forehead before patting her head, lovingly. She thanked him before turning to scurry off like the adorable being she was.

Needing answers, Bakugo stalked over to the bi colour haired student. "What the fuck was that?"

Shouto only raised an eyebrow, obviously not understanding what he was questioning. "What was what, Bakugo?"

"What you just did with binky girl." He stated.

"I kissed her wound…?" Shouto's eyebrow raised higher.

"Yeah, I saw that, peppermint. But why?" He was beginning to get irritated.

"Because she asked me to." He answered, before realizing what Bakugo wasn't understanding. "A bink is equivalent to a kiss."

Bakugo tensed at the information. She was kissing him? What? Why?

"Several in a row usually means she wants you to kiss her whenever she's binking you." Shouto watch a light blush cover the hot head's cheeks. "It's her way of affection. She's too shy to ask for kisses or give kisses directly, so she's settled for binking."

Bakugo blushed further, not only was she giving him kisses she was asking for them. Shouto chuckled at his classmate turning redder with each memory of her binks. Shouto let him process the information before continuing. “She does it to everyone she deems worthy of it and they mean different things depending on the person.”

"What the fuck do I do then? Why is she kissing me?" Bakugo snapped, trying to ignore the light feeling in his chest.

Shouto started walking off, giving him a wave. "You're not stupid, you figure out those answers."

So he did.

"Bink- Goodmorning Bakugo!" Y/N skipped into the kitchen, poking his cheek. "Thanks for breakf-!"

"Bink."

His mumbled voice and attack on her cheek with his own finger froze her to her spot. She nearly dropped the plate of food he'd handed her in shock, while he simply turned away to plate more food. Her face burned in colour, he binked her back.

"Go tell the extras food's ready, will you?" He grumbled, hiding his own flamed cheeks.

She nodded, mutely, still in shock, before turning out of the kitchen. No one ever really binked her back. Except her parents, maybe Uraraka but even then… she wasn't crushing on them!

"Y/N? You alright there?" Momo asked coming down the stairs. "You look a bit flushed."

Y/N shook her head clear. "Um y-yes, yes. Breakfast is- is ready."

Momo narrowed her eyes slightly, before nodding slowly. Y/N sputtered, trying to clear her head further. "Uh, yeah. Guys! Breakfast!"

Within seconds everyone began rushing towards the call of food, pushing the slightly worried Momo away and giving Y/N space to run back to her room and hide until class.

Once the time came, she darted off to class, opting to walk alone. To over contemplate the event from earlier. Did he do it to try and embarrass her? Did he just think he had to do it back now? Does he know what it meant? That thought brought her back to the first question.

When Y/N got to class, Bakugo was already in his seat, alone. He often was the first to get to class, but the Bakusquad was always close behind. Despite the overwhelming urge to run away, she slowly migrated towards her seat, her nerves almost making her trip.

The room felt oddly tense and tight. Normally, catching him alone was her favourite time to bink him, but right now her hand felt heavy. She peeked over at him, he scrolled through his phone appearing bored, not looking at her. Maybe he did it on a whim and wouldn’t do it again.

How wrong she was.

Y/N softly binked his cheek, squeaking out the word, before rushing to her own seat. Even if he was going to do it again, the class’s chatter grew loud as they all approached the room. Surely he wouldn’t-.

“Bink.” There he was, leaning over the single desk that separated their seats, his finger poked into her cheek. Her special word floating from his lips. She blinked, flushing aggressively, as he sat back into his seat. The class filled in not even a moment later, no wiser about what just happened.

It only got worse throughout the week. He’d bink her whenever she was close by as she’d do to him. Except, he’d bink her anywhere. Her face. Her hand on his desk. Her hip when passing her by. Literally anywhere.

“Um, I’ll catch up with you guys in a second, okay? I wanna do something real fast.” Y/N told Uraraka and Toru.

The girls nodded in agreement and continued on their trek back to the dorms. She waited till they were a bit ways away before jogging to the gym. The telltale sound of explosions telling her Bakugo was there.

Y/N quietly slipped inside and peeked to see if he was training with anyone and thankfully, he was alone. Now she was here… What was she going to do? She stood still for a moment, contemplating what to do, when finally, she decided it was better to not face him.

She turned around to walk right back out when he called out to her. “You just gonna stand there, takin’ up space, Binky?”

Y/N flushed at the nickname and being caught. “Oh, um, I just… was going to train…” She lied slowly turning to face him. “But you’re here, and I don’t want to intrude! Carry on!”

He started towards her. “I wouldn’t mind fighting you, if you want.”

“I don’t have my training clothes.” She squeaked.

“Then how were you going to train? Something that you just said you were coming to do.” He drew closer, chuckling at her lie.

“I- um… I was just going to work on my spacial jumps… Nothing too… strenuous.” Her words quieted once he stood directly in front of her.

“Why did you actually come in here, Y/N?” The sound of her name falling from his lips sent her heart into frenzied palpitations.

She knew what he was asking so she slowly raised her hand and poked his lips. Once… Twice… three times. She gasped when he leaned down and pressed his lips against her own. Her hands flew to grip his arms, as if she was scared he’d disappear and it all turned out to be a dream.

Bakugo backed her into the wall and gently nipped at her lip before pulling back. He rested his forehead against hers and grinned at her when a short whine left her lips. He pressed a short kiss to her lips again, before whispering to her;

“Bink.”

[crackerjackawrites]

Walking Inferno (2600 Words)

A hired killer is in for a horrific surprise after his most recent hit. (originally written February 2021)

Don Giuliani - or just Don, as he liked to be known by his employees - sat in the large, leather bound chair at his desk. Papers were spread out across the table and a cigar sat in the nearby ashtray, still leaking smoke into the room. It was like a damn hotbox in there, and somebody needed to open a window (it wouldn’t be Don, he had people for that). Opposite Don sat Payton Gonzalez, a broad-chested bull of a man. His brown hair was beginning to recede, but it gave him a wise look, made up for what was going on up there in his head. Nothing, by Don’s estimate.

“So,” said Payton, his voice strong and confident, “What’s the next hit?”

“I’ve got the papers here,” replied Don, and he began to rummage through the papers on his desk. “Somewhere here.”  

Eventually, Don pulled out an envelope from beneath a spread of important documents, “Here,” he muttered, and passed it over to Payton. Payton opened the file, it had a name in large letters at the top of the page,

“You’re kidding,” said Payton, “John Smith?”

“It’s great, huh? Like he’s some sorta fuckin’ character!”

Payton smirked, and carried on reading. Below the name was Mr. Smith’s date of birth, April second, 1968; his place of work, Reeves and Bromley Ltd.; and his address, Rotterdam Apartments, 247th Street, Manhattan. Also in the envelope was a picture of John, he had blonde hair and his chin was dotted with stubble, he had light blue eyes and thick eyebrows above them. The image showed him walking into work wearing a bomber jacket and dark jeans.

Payton dropped the papers onto his lap, “So what’s this guy’s deal?”

“It’s not him we have the problem with, it’s his daughter. She’s suspended her deal with us, so we’re gonna teach her a lesson. Hopefully she learns something here, or we’re gonna have to go after her other papa too.”

“How do you want me to go about it?” asked Payton.

“Car bomb,” said Don, “that should get the message across.”

“Of course, sir.”

Payton stood on the street opposite John’s car, two blocks away from Reeves and Bromley. It was coming up to 6pm, so John would be leaving work any second now and heading for his car. The bomb was planted. All Payton needed was for John to turn the keys and boom, he’d get the paycheck.

John strolled around the corner, he wore the same jacket that he had on in the image from his file. He looked like he was in a rush to get home. Good. John unlocked his car, got into the seat, fiddled with his keys for a second, pushed it into the- Boom! Payton had forgotten how quickly those things go off. People started screaming all around him. Payton joined in the panic, he knew how suspicious it would look if he didn’t. He always wished he could walk away with the swagger of an action hero from the movies, but his job never let him, so he had to make do with shouting and running away. One of the worst compromises in his life, he thought. Either way, this was another successful hit, some extra cash in his pocket.

Don Guiliani’s place looked abandoned, Payton guessed that was on purpose. The dark green paint on the door was peeling, revealing the rusted metal beneath it, and the windows were boarded up with rotting wooden planks. The bricks looked like they hadn’t been washed in years. Payton knocked on the door and the rusting peephole scraped open.

“Passwo-”

“Cinnamon Roll,” said Payton, he was sure Don got a kick out of making him say that every time he came in.

“Alright, man!” moaned the voice from the door, “Why’re you in such a fuckin’ rush?.”

The door opened, and Payton walked through, shoving the doorman with his shoulder. The building looked just as run down on the inside as it did the outside, Don really needed a designer. Payton made his way through the corridor, straight towards Don’s office. He knocked, 1-2-3, pause, 1-2, the second code that Don had given him, after “cinnamon roll”.

“Come in, boy,” called Don from within the room, Payton opened the door, “How did it go?”

“Fine,” said Payton, “You got the cash?”

“Of course,” Don reached down below his desk and pulled out a briefcase, he clicked open the locks to reveal wads of notes laying within, “There we are. Exactly what I promised it’d be.” Don locked the briefcase again.

“Thanks,” grunted Payton, and he grabbed the case. He got up, walked straight out the building, and continued all the way to his apartment. He’d count it up when he got back.

That night, Payton dreamed. He dreamed of fire, of his skin boiling until it melted from his bones. Molten metal piercing his charred flesh, burning his insides. He screamed until his throat either dried up or turned to ash, he couldn’t tell which came first. He dreamed of a man, a man who hated him. He cried for revenge. He cried to take Payton’s life.

Payton shot up from his bed. It was dark out still. He never had nightmares. Who was that figure? The devil? Payton wasn’t a particularly religious man. Was it John? Payton had never had that type of reaction after a hit before, so he doubted it. John wasn’t special in any way. Not to Payton at least. He checked the time on his phone: five forty-three. He had to get up at seven, no point in trying to sleep again now.

A few hours later, Payton stood at the entrance of Solar Mechanics, his other place of work. Much like Don’s, Solar was a pretty run-down building with tattered brick work and creaky garage doors, this one at least looked lived in from the outside, though. This definitely wasn’t the first time Payton had gone to work the day after a hit, but something felt off today. It was probably the dream. Payton tentatively stepped through the garage door, keeping his guard up more than usual. Payton locked eyes with his manager, George, from his small office space across the service area. George got up and waved at Payton.

“Hey, Payton!” he called from across the room, “I need you for something, asap.” He said asap like a word, not an acronym.

“Yes?” snapped Payton.

“Woah there, tiger.” He chuckled, “I just need you to do a service drive with one of the beasts over here.” George walked over to what he called “the beasts”, the section on the service floor reserved for the most powerful cars in stock. Payton followed.

“A Bugatti?”

“A damn powerful one too,” George chuckled again, “released this year.”

“Damn.” Payton muttered.

“Uh-huh.”

“And you just want me to take it out?”

“Yep. I’ll get you the key now. I only need you out there for like 30 minutes. No biggy.”

“Yessir.”

George returned with the key and bowled it to Payton. Who snatched it out of the air with ease. Payton stuck the key into the ignition and turned, causing the engine to ignite with power.

“Oh, baby!” called Payton over the light, satisfying rumble of the engine, “It's hot!”

“Enjoy!” said George, smirking. He slapped the back of the car like it was a racehorse and Payton drove out of the front of the garage smoothly. Payton drove aimlessly for a while, but came to his consciousness when he realised where he’d driven.

The sign of Reeves and Bromley Ltd. loomed over him and, for a while, Payton just stared up at it in awe. Shit, why did he come back? He didn’t mean to. Was it fate? Payton slowly drove away from the sign and around the corner, the same corner where the bomb had been planted. It was like he was on autopilot. Payton drove up the street, straining against all his willpower not to look at the space where the car had sat. But he gave in. There was still a large, black scorch mark on the road. The body of the car had been towed away but still little pieces of metal lay across the road like soldiers in a war they’d already lost. Payton could hear a crackling, like fire. He whipped his head around… But saw nothing. He turned back, to face an inferno across the street. The spiral of fire lashed out in all directions, it roared at Payton. People started screaming all around him, running from the flame. But Payton was frozen in fear. He squinted into the fire. It looked like there was someone in there. There was someone in there! A dark humanoid figure stood, wreathed in the blaze. It began to walk toward Payton.

“Shit, shit, shit!” he cried, scrambling at the door handle. He finally grasped hold of it and yanked, nearly pulling it clean off. He pushed open the door and practically fell out the door, only to find himself face to face with the raging blaze. The figure inside lifted their finger and pointed at Payton. It spoke with a strained voice,

“You…”

Payton started to back away, “Who- Who are you?”

“You… know... me.” And Payton did. He didn’t know how, but he now recognised the figure as John Smith. John’s corpse continued, “Why… did… you… kill me?”

“It was what I was told to do!” Payton panted, “If you wanna take it up with anyone, make it Don - Don Giuliani. Please!”

The fire surrounding John weakened, and he stepped forward, revealing his charred flesh and ashen bones. His voice became less strained, it still had a low growl to it “Does that justify it for you? That someone else asked you to kill me?”

“No,” Payton nearly tripped on a pothole, “Of course n-”

John erupted into flames and screamed, “Then why did you do it?” John began to extinguish again, “What did I even do?” John was now practically just a black skeleton, some small embers flickered beneath his remaining flesh.

“It wasn’t you,” muttered Payton, “It was your daughter.” Payton suddenly realised that the two of them were standing in the middle of an empty street, everyone else fled when John had appeared.

“Laura?” the small embers across John’s body started to multiply, “She was in the mafia?”

“Until recently,” Payton was starting to calm down now, the site of a burning corpse standing before him almost felt normal, “She stopped her deals, Don wanted to get back at her.”

John’s blaze roared up again. Payton could feel the heat, even from this distance, “So you killed me?”

“Like I said,” this scene felt entirely natural to Payton now, “it wasn’t my choice-”

“Every time you kill someone it’s a choice, and I know this wasn’t your first time.”

“Please, you should take this out on Don. I’ve got a kid at home! You know what that’s like.”

John tutted, Payton wasn’t sure how, “I know that’s a lie, Payton. I was in your apartment last night. I saw you... alone.”

“Shit,” Payton muttered. Before he could say anything else, John started walking towards him. All the familiarity Payton had felt was melting away, and he stared directly at the molten cadaver of the man he had murdered the evening before. Nearly all his flesh had melted away now, small scraps of skin were still smouldering on his skull and his tendons were beginning to break under the heat; leaving him to stagger forward with an uncanny speed.

Payton backed up into an alley, he was too far in when he realised the mistake. The two tall buildings on either side cast dark shadows into the alley, the shadows only broken by the roaring fires that were spilling out of John and towards Payton. He was trapped. Unless? Payton spun around to face the wall at the end of the alley, it looked just about climbable. He took a step back, hearing the crackling flames behind him, and ran at the wall. He leaped and caught the top of the bricks with his fingertips.

His muscles straining, Payton slowly pulled himself up the wall. But then, a searing pain caught his left thigh. Payton turned, and found John’s arms clasped onto his leg, the torrid heat was branding his thigh. John yanked Payton down with ease and threw him into the row of trash cans that lined the alley. John scrambled to his feet. As he was getting up, Payton noticed his left pant leg had a large hole burned into it where John had grabbed him. The burn went all the way through to his flesh, where it was bright red and scabbing.

“Don’t worry,” said John, his voice becoming more strained and alien as the fire surrounding him grew, “I’ll find Don after we’re done here. At least you’ll have the pleasure of knowing you weren’t the only one to die.”

Payton backed up against one of the walls, “Please! John, please. You don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but I do. If I kill you then I’ll be free of this life. Free of this torture!”

John took a step closer to Payton. Payton took a step back. John took a step closer to Payton, but Payton was up against the wall now. John took another step and Payton could feel the heat singeing the hairs on his arms. John moved his arm back and thrust it into Payton’s chest. Payton looked down, John had burnt a clean hole straight where his heart was. John yanked his arm back out and Payton sputtered, boiling blood pouring out of his mouth. Payton looked up, his vision blurred, and could just make out John holding his heart in one hand. John slowly tightened his grip around the heart until it popped, spraying blood over Payton’s face. Payton’s vision slowly dimmed, with John’s chuckle the only thing left to keep him company.

Don Giuliani sat in the large, leather-bound chair at his desk. He had finally decided to sort out the clusters of papers that had lay strewn across it every day for too long to remember. He was finding all the old hit profiles that had been given back to him from the agents, he really should’ve shredded those as he got them. It was lucky that he hadn’t been caught. A cop could easily bust down the door and execute him on the spot with all this evidence. He was putting the final file into the bag when he heard a shout from the hallway.

“Holy shit! He’s burnin’ the fuckin’ door down!” It was Oz, the doorman.

“What?” called Don, storming into the hallway. He looked at the large, metal door and, sure enough, the rusted steel was melting right before his eyes. “Holy shit.”

Oz shoved past him, his face a portrait of terror. Don looked back at the door, something was stopping his instinct to flee. The door began to glow orange with heat, then yellow, then white. Something punched through the door, sending globs of molten metal over the floor, it looked like a black, skeletal hand. A leg kicked a hole through the door afterwards. Then an entire charcoal skeleton stepped through, it was wreathed in flames. It looked straight at Don.

“Hello, Don.”

“J-John?”

[rebelscoundrel]

Take a Gamble

Request: You and Poe are a sarcastic duo that work well together, sent on an undercover mission to thwart a First Order weapons deal. Things go awry, of course. 

Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: undercover clichés (the kissing kind), lots of banter, a little tension (sexual and otherwise)

A\N - this got kinda long? I had way too much fun with this plot

Masterlist

“Poe, get down here. It can’t be that bad.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

A few reluctant thuds brought Poe to the bottom of the stairs. The first thing you noticed was the gelled hair trying to tame his curls. The poncho was quite a sight, too — black as night and adorned with golden chains and buckles, curiously matching his decorative boots. And somehow he still looked good.

But his grimace was icing on the cake. 

You giggled, sliding a hand over your mouth and chin. “Okay, it’s not awful. But it’s not —"

“It’s not great, I know.”

He skirted past you, quickly crossing the hangar toward the Falcon. Passing mechanics kept their eyes averted from Poe and you nodded thanks on his behalf. A few other calls of “good luck!” echoed as the Falcon’s door slid shut. 

“And you,” Poe chuckled wryly while flipping switches around the cockpit, “you get to wear that and call it a day.”

It was true, your white dress was achingly simple compared to his attire. But apparently these outfits were the best way for each of you to blend in on the mission, and you weren’t complaining that you got the simpler one for once.

“I think you secretly like that cape.”

“It’s a poncho, and I don’t.”

The Falcon leapt into hyperdrive and you crossed a leg haphazardly from the co-pilot’s seat. The stars blended into stripes, the gentle hum of lightspeed filling the easy silence in the cockpit, until finally it all slowed to give way to the destination. Canto Bight was a glittering jewel of a city – a shiny, sickening place for the rich and cruel and famous.

Poe landed a safe distance from the skyscraping casino, leaving the Falcon out of sight and ready for a quick escape if needed. You crept side by side toward the unnerving clamor of the city, only straightening up when you got closer. Adrenaline kickstarted a rush in your veins when the rendezvous site came into view and your hand wove a practiced path into the folds of your skirt, brushing the blaster strapped underneath for reassurance.

Ushers opened the massive doors, lifting the muzzle off the noise and letting the bright lights of the casino glare freely.

Poe offered you his elbow. “Shall we?”

You gladly took it, sneaking in a grin before setting your sights on the crowd. “Might as well.”

It wasn’t hard to find a path in the busy atrium – drunk gamblers and partiers were predictable, and you and Poe could effortlessly move in sync. Step left to avoid a pair of quarreling Bothans, backtrack around a raucous group of humanoid dancers, and weave through the line of low-stakes gambling circles. The first sign of First Order troops appeared at the racetrack betting tables and Poe gave you a nudge.

“You wanna remind me what we’re up against? A mechanic was rattling off X-Wing problems to me during the briefing.”

“A single buyer,” you spoke over the noise. “Local warlord known only as Jago. Wears red robes, black star tattoo on his neck. The First Order is selling him a hundred E-Webs that he’ll use to squash Resistance efforts on an Outer Rim planet.”

He whistled low under his breath. “Yeah, we’re not letting that happen. So it’s just that guy?”

“That guy and any First Order goons stationed in the city.”

“Won’t Jago bring backup?”

“In our intercepted transmission, the First Order said he had to come alone.”

“Easy enough.” He shrugged with a little cautious bravado to boost both of you. “Let’s destroy that shipment and bail.”

You bit back a grin, still striding in step with your mission partner. It was a simple plan, sure, and the two of you were experienced enough to handle it. Besides, you fit against Poe’s side like the Maker designed it that way. Upon finding a spot with a view of the whole room, Poe planted himself and snuck a glance at you before surveying the field.

The waiting game wasn’t long. The First Order troops started getting restless, muttering into their comms units and fiddling with their blasters.

“There.” Poe jutted his chin toward the bar. “That’s gotta be Jago.”

He was right, and Jago was terrifying. Towering over the creatures around him, his platinum shock of hair contrasted his scarred face and the dark tattoos lining his neck. His red robes were draped over a bulky build and the end of a rifle poked through. He was ready for a fight.

It was your turn to nudge Poe. “Let’s get over there. They’ll take him to the shipment soon.”

Like a grand ballet, the First Order troopers stalked toward Jago in single file while you and Poe approached from an angle. The music crescendoed, drinks spilled in your wake, and you were hot on Poe’s heels through it all, pacing yourself to stay out of sight of the enemy.

But it didn’t work.

You slammed into a ranking Stormtrooper, throwing you off track. Your white dress caught wine stains as you tried to push out of a group of civilians, but the trooper grabbed your arm and yanked you inches from his helmet.

“Watch it!” he seethed.

Trying to jerk away yielded no results. Your heart raced, drowning out any commotion behind you.

“Wait a minute…” He pulled out a hologram projector and up popped an image of your face. His viselike grip got tighter. “I’ve got a Resistance fighter!”

Clang! A table crashed into the trooper, sending him sprawling as cards and chips rained down like confetti. Poe popped up from behind the table, his gelled curls shaking freely. The two of you comically stared back and forth between each other and the fallen Trooper.

“Did you just –”

“Yeah,” he huffed while you took his outstretched hand, “not as heavy as it looks. We gotta go.”

Your “thanks” was breathless and the chase was on. First Order troopers and Stormtroopers were swarming and you and Poe dodged around them, ducking behind casino security droids and patron’s opulent hats. A flash of red caught your eye and you whirled toward it, Poe barely in tow.

“There’s Jago! They’ve gotta be leading him to the shipment.”

You hurried toward the archway leading out back, just a little further and you’d be free of the chaos inside. Poe gave a hopeful gasp and the way his bejeweled boots clacked on the tile floor almost drew a tease from your lips.

But you never got the chance because a Stormtrooper suddenly blocked your path.

“Shit!”

“Dammit! C’mon,” Poe groaned, switching hands to pull you the opposite way.

Troopers’ cries rang out behind you and their thunderous pursuit was the stuff of nightmares, the fever dream all tied together by the glitz and glam of the casino. You kept low as best you could and trusted Poe’s every step even as he led you closer to the performing stage.

The music was deafening but became muffled when you dipped into an alcove next to the stage. It was crowded with drunk partygoers gyrating and kissing what you could only hope was each other’s mouths. But even in that small mob you felt exposed because the troopers could be heard closing in and could walk by at any second.

“They’re going to find us,” you clipped.

But Poe was busy shuffling you toward the back of the alcove, keeping a grip on your elbows as he glanced over his shoulder.

“Poe, we’ve got to –”

His kiss silenced you.

Your back hit the wall a moment later and still the kiss continued – his lips were tense and unmoving and definitely only there to hide your faces from passersby and was that his hand caressing your lower back? You grasped his arm to steady your heart and dared not kiss back.

(Even if you wanted to.)

With your faces hidden, the Stormtroopers rushed past and continued their search elsewhere. Poe checked over his shoulder again and then his eyes were back on you, sparing an imperceptible glance to your lips.

“Sorry, I just –”

“No, good thinking.” You nodded and gave his chest a supportive pat. “They definitely didn’t want to venture in here.”

With no time to lose and no desire to further analyze what the hell just happened, you and Poe jostled through the crowd and back out into the open. Thankfully there were no troopers in sight and you snuck to the back archway and out into the night.

The brick courtyard was lined with massive palm trees that hid it from the view of any casino onlookers and it was silent except for metallic clattering behind a door on the far side.

“E-Webs.”

“Has to be,” you murmured back.

Walking through the open courtyard felt out of place and the two of you flicked wary glances all around. Your kept your hand poised on the slit in your dress, ready for whatever the sinister shadows would throw your way. And it didn’t take long.

“Hey, you there!” A First Order trooper stepped into view.

You tore out your blaster and shot him square in the chest. He crumpled and no more troopers appeared.

“Yeah, I think we’re in the right place,” Poe quipped.

He took one side of the door and you the other, gently pushing it open enough to peek inside. Jago loomed on one side of a stone table facing a First Order commander, both flanked by Stormtroopers. The itching trigger fingers could instantly send the room up in flames. But even through the tension, the conversation wasn’t hard to hear.

“The Supreme Leader wants payment now.”

“He’ll get his payment after I see the shipment myself,” Jago growled. “And don’t fool yourselves by thinking it’s hidden, I know it’s in the crates past the outer gates of this courtyard.”

That was what you needed to hear. As awful as Jago was, the mission was to destroy the shipment of E-Webs, not assassinate a warlord. Poe nodded and you followed, circling to the outside of the courtyard and easily finding the target. Crates and crates of insidious E-Webs were loaded onto a transport.

And surrounded by red-caped men carrying torches. Jago’s troops.

Poe skidded to a stop. “I thought you said Jago wasn’t supposed to bring backup.”

“Looks like he trusts the First Order about as much as we do.”

You counted six; Poe pointed out two more at the edge of the forest. Your blaster was still warm from the last shot fired and you braced your hand on the vine-covered wall, ready to fire it again. But Poe’s gentle touch to your wrist gave you reason for pause.

“I have something else that might work,” he murmured. From under his poncho he pulled out a pair of thermal detonators and a grin to match. “Turns out this blanket I’m wearing had its uses.”

Your face lit up but fell into a frown just as quickly. “Poe, we can’t detonate them or the E-Webs here. It could level half the casino.”

“So I’ll lure the guards away while you program –”

“I program the transport to fly deep into the woods!” the rest of the plan rolled off your tongue like lightning. “Then we detonate.”

“We detonate the hell out of it.”

The Resistance had come to rely on this kind of synchronization between you and Poe and it hadn’t yet let anyone down. After delicately handing you the detonators, he squeezed your shoulder for luck and you didn’t hide the nervous anticipation in your eyes – you never hid it from each other, not when it was so real. By the time you realized he was close enough to kiss you again he was gone, brandishing his blaster and dashing out into the open.

“Hey, you big scary bastards!” He fired a few shots before Jago’s troops realized what was happening.

They gave chase and you lied in wait for the stampede to pass, then took a deep breath and slinked over to the transport under the cover of darkness. Even with your skirts in one hand and cradling the detonators in the other, you managed to leap into the driver’s seat with ease. Blaster shots rang out from Poe’s direction but you forced yourself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Which was a little more difficult than normal. First Order tech was different enough that you pressed a few wrong buttons before igniting the engine. Is this your first time behind the wheel? you could hear Poe teasing if he’d been there.

A heavy thunk sounded and you whirled to see one of Jago’s troops standing on the back of the transport, pulling out his blaster. You beat him to it and shot him in the neck.

“Too close,” you whispered to yourself as he landed in the dirt.

With a few more switches flipped, you slammed the steering lever forward and jumped out of the driver’s seat. You armed the detonators with a flick of your thumbs and tossed them onto the transport as it hurtled into the woods.

Trees crashed in its wake as you fled the opposite direction. Ten seconds ticked by, just enough for you to make it to the courtyard walls – eyes squeezed shut, hands clamped over your ears – and then came the massive explosion. The vibration rattled deep in your bones.

But you couldn’t stay covered forever. As expected, Jago’s remaining troops raced back to the transport’s spot and then toward the inferno, their angry curses echoing in the flames devouring the trees. You slipped away unnoticed toward the edge of the city, where Poe had originally led them.

And you didn’t have to worry about him for long.

“Hey!” came a tense whisper from your right.

Poe emerged from a stack of barrels and split into a wide smile, ecstatic to see you alive and well. You fell into his embrace without a second thought.

“E-Webs are gone,” you declared. “Nice job with the distraction, by the way.”

He pulled back to wave you off. “That was the easy part. Jago needs to hire better mercenaries, these guys can’t shoot for shit.”

That was the end of the reunion, because Jago himself strode out from behind the courtyard walls and surveyed the entire scene. The firelight painted him even more fearsome. He yelled obscenities at his troops, the First Order commander, and the Stormtroopers before his gaze landed on you and Poe looking not particularly innocent.

“Get them!” he bellowed.

“Here we go again…”

Poe took your hand like clockwork and your tired legs carried you into the city. From cobblestone to pavement, around market stalls and under giant droids’ legs, and in between partygoers taking a midnight stroll.

You and Poe were fast but the enemy was just as quick, even if they were still a good distance behind. But the hunt couldn’t go on forever and as you rounded a sharp corner, there it was. Saving grace in the form of an alleyway. You yanked Poe in with you and prayed it was enough to shake them.

The alley was narrower than anticipated and Poe was nearly pressed into you. The chase left your heart pounding and your chest heaving and the brick wall at your back dug into your dress and all at once the ridiculousness of the situation had you clutching your mouth to hold back giggles.

Poe noticed, his dark eyes glistening at you as a smirk played on his own mouth. He playfully brought a finger to his own lips to gesture for you to keep quiet.

And now you were looking at his lips.

It felt like the gravitational pull of a galaxy, the way you gazed at the curve of his mouth. The sheer proximity was intoxicating, sending tendrils of heat curling up your skin. The memory of his kiss was as clear as the night sky and left a sparkle in your eyes when you finally looked up.

Poe noticed that, too, and he sobered as his own gaze dipped to your lips and back.

A blur of red capes and white armor trampled past your hiding spot at that moment. Not too long after Jago and the First Order commander followed, still barking frustrated orders. But all that commotion barely registered within the dark confines of the alley. The pull between you was still too strong, drowning out everything else, even the gradual quiet that grew in the street.

“I think they’re gone,” you breathed.

“Yeah…”

A blaster firing in the distance finally made Poe snap his eyes away. He leaned out of the alley to check if the coast was clear and motioned for you to follow, and it was back to business as usual – this goddamn mission.

“Let’s get the hell off this planet.”

The streets slowly became familiar as you neared the entrance to the casino and that’s when Poe noticed a speeder sitting idle, its driver preoccupied with trying to sell something to a pair of drunk civilians.

“Wanna get to the Falcon faster?” he called.

You followed his line of sight. “You bet! Can I drive?”

“What?”

“You might be a great pilot,” you raced the last few feet and jumped in the driver’s seat, revving the engine with a proud cock of your brow, “but I’m better on a speeder and you know it.”

Poe could only grin and shake his head while hopping on the back, barely getting a grip on your waist before you floored it. You flew past the casino in time to see Jago emerging from the front doors and he erupted again, shrieking and waving wildly until a Stormtrooper flew up on a speeder. He hopped on the back and they sped toward you.

Poe exasperatedly smacked the side of your speeder. “We just can’t catch a break with this guy.”

The chase was on once again and you quickly made it to the edge of the city, where Jago opened fire. Blaster shots illuminated the night around you and Poe did his best to return fire while you evasively swerved through the meadow.

“This isn’t good!” Poe yelled. “They’ll kill us if we go to the Falcon now.”

As you tried to reach for your blaster, you accidentally flicked a switch on the dashboard and a small panel opened between the handlebars. There sat a thermal detonator, primed and ready for any opponent.

“You’re not gonna believe our luck,” you cried over the wind, holding up the detonator like a prize. “Will you do the honors?”

“Gladly.”

Poe armed and tossed the detonator, hiding his face against your neck as the explosion knocked your speeder forward. Leaving the smoking remains in the dust, you finally headed toward the Falcon in peace.

“Woohoo! Not bad for a guy in a poncho,” he crowed.

You let out a holler into the night, feeling free as the wind whipped past your face. The Falcon finally came into view and you slowed down to jump off the speeder with Poe right behind. The two of you were significantly worse for wear than when you left the Falcon earlier in the evening but you trudged to the cockpit with your heads held high – tattered clothes, dirty boots, wine stains, and all.

While Poe fired up the engine, you patched through to command central. Resistance leaders wanted a status update as soon as you were done.

“Falcon to Command One,” you proudly beamed at Poe, “we completed the mission and are en route back to base.”

Lightspeed came and went and then you were landing on base between the flight deck operators signaling with their orange lights. It was the dead of night so there was no congratulatory crowd waiting, and that was okay. You’d had your fill of crowds. 

Poe stood to leave as soon as the Falcon touched down, and so did you — landing you face to face for the second time that night. Time froze as you fell into each other’s orbit once again. His breath on your cheek, your glance to his lips, the steady rise and fall of your chests in sync. The tension threatened to rip you in two and you almost did something about it.

The comms crackled inside the cockpit. “Captains, let’s have that debriefing now.”

You stepped away first, catching your breath as you strode out of the Falcon a few paces ahead of Poe. The silence of the runway rung in your ears because all you could do was think about the man just a few feet behind. And all at once, after all those chases that evening, you were tired of running away.

You spun on your heel, arms swinging wide. It was now or never.

“Poe —”

“Yeah, what the hell.”

The distance closed in a flash and his lips found yours with ease. He properly cradled your cheek this time, melting you further into his touch. Your hands carded through his hair and deepened the kiss like the Maker intended. The heat in your chest blossomed when Poe smiled against your mouth.

You broke it first, panting and idly playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. It no longer hurt to be this close, not when all the doubt had dissipated.

“The debrief...” you reluctantly muttered.

“I think we can handle that now.” After sharing another satisfied grin, he let you walk ahead and only spoke loud enough for you to hear. “Though it probably won’t be as brief as I’d like.”

[katerdaddy]

Angel Wings and Hand touches

Part 1

This is a Harringrove X men Au based off of @memes-saved-me

Their X- men Au harringrove is beautiful and amazing. A++.

"Steve." He was sitting in his room, an old magazine in his hands. Standing there was Nancy. They'd had a fling. Well, that's what Nancy called it. He'd thought it was a relationship. Nancy had the ability of walking through walls and other objects. She was damn good at it too.

"What's up?" He glanced at her. That was a mistake. She was as gorgeous as ever. Her hair curled nicely and a new sweater over her shoulders. He was smitten all over again.

"It's your turn for a mission." Steve groaned. Nancy just smiled, leaning against door. "On the plus side, Dustin gets to go with you..."

Steve perked up. He lifted up from his bed, moving around the room.

"Henderson? That means this is his first mission." He grinned, moving his way to his closet.

He could feel Nancy smirk.

"I figured you'd enjoy it way more than me."

Steve slipped on his gloves and followed Nancy out the door.

.......

They'd made their way to the common room. Dustin was zooming around the room as usual. Talking far to quickly than was usually possible.

The rest of their party was on the couches.

El was lazily moving a pillow around, Mike was fiddling with his glasses, which he shouldn't be. That would be dangerous. Lucas who was sitting down and eating his lunch. Like a well practiced mutant who didn't have to flaunt his powers. He was able to control explosions. Charging energy into balls to throw. Basically his own personal fireworks.

Next to him was Robin. She had the ability to create high powered sonic waves with just her voice. She was Steve's favorite.

That left Will. The quiet one. The cold one.

He was off freezing and unfreezing his glass of water (and mikes soda).

His brother Jonathan, Nancy's new boyfriend, was near them, scrolling through his camera.

Being able to turn invisible had it perks. He could sneak in anywhere unnoticed.

When Nancy and Steve entered their room, Dustin zoomed up to them, bouncing. His usual energy on a day to day basis. They were used to it now.

"Steve come on!" He dragged him. Pulling a bit to hard. Steve's glove flinging off in the process.

"Hey dude! Henderson! Watch the glove." He stopped him with his good hand. Aka, his gloved hand and yanked his glove back.

"Come on, trouble. Let's go."

......

They didn't have to travel too far.

Just over 2 hours drive by jet.

Dustin couldn't keep still in his seat.

Asking Steve questions like, " So do we use our hero names or do we just come in like 'hi I'm Dustin and this is Steve.' Or is that to casual."

Steve smiled an answered.

"Well that depends. What do you want to do?"

Dustin was basically vibrating by now.

"Duh! Superhero names! Ok I was thinking, lightning strike. Or, or , or the speed. Or the streak. Or-"

Steve chuckled, ruffling Dustins hair.

"You've got to choose something cooler than that."

Dustin just elbowed him away, saying something about his well quaffed curls.

"Well, how did you choose your name? Cause I like your's."

Steve smiled. Turning his attention back to clouds below them.

"Someone just called me it one day and I thought 'Hell yeah, that's bad-ass."

Dustin shot him a look. An unbelieving look.

"Really... someone just called you 'Rouge' one day and you stuck with it?"

His mouth was open. Eyes lidded. Arms crossed. And for once, he was holding still.

Steve grinned. Bad memories flashing past him of a freckled boy, toad like in every way. And his girlfriend who was nearly indestructible. Like a diamond.

"I wasn't always the guy you know now..."

Dustin snorted. Head falling back.

"Yeah you were a grade A ass-hole."

Steve snorted back. Caught off guard.

"Thanks dingus." He'd caught that word from Robin. They need to spend less time together.

"It's good to hear you care."

The boys arms lifted defensively, but he still smiled nonetheless.

.....

They were finally there.

And on a beach no less.

Somewhere in California.

Dustin mentioned San Francisco.

"Alright...what is your name again?"

Dustin smiled. All teeth.

"Quicksilver."

Steve grinned back, ruffling his curls again.

"Attah boy, now that's one bad ass name."

They shared a few steps in silence.

"Who are we looking for again?" Dustin piped up. Wiggling around in the sand.

His running shoes and rash guard weren't really made for this.

"Someone they call Angel and Hot head. The first, a boy. Looks to be around 17-18. And a girl like 13 or twelve or something."

"Alright. I can get the girl. You get the boy?"

Dustin prepped to speed forward.

"Woah,woah, woah! No. This is a duo operation. We can't split up."

But Dustin just smiled, circling around Steve once. Giving a thumbs up before zooming down towards the pier.

"Asshole!" Steve yelled out, knowing full well Dustin could hear him.

He'd start with the surfers. They were closer anyway.

He was getting weird looks. Of course he was.

It was blazing hot and he was in dark leather gloves and a leather jacket with Sherpa lining.

He noticed someone. Sitting on a board. Just a few feet in. A sweatshirt on and a wet suit slung on halfway.

Steve examined him for a few moments more.

He stretched for a second. But only a second. And there he saw it. A white feather.

Bingo.

So he called after him. Urging him to move out of the ocean.

He listened cautiously.

"Hey Amigo. Need directions?" He asked, board tucked under his arm.

"Um actually... I need to speak with you." The boy cautiously set down his board on the sand, blue eyes never leaving the other.

"I know what you are.  They call you angel right? My name is Rouge."

He saw the boys jaw tightened. It didn't loose yet.

"Not here. Let's go under the dock."

So he did. They walked in silence. Mostly the sound of the wetsuit the boy was wearing rubbing against his knees filled the silence.

He'd gotten a look at the boy from afar.

But now so close to him, he could see the freckles that danced across his tanned almost golden skin.

He saw his blonde, salt infested hair that curled around him.

Saw the mark across his eyebrow and the bruise on his jaw.

His sweatshirt read something about San Francisco on it in red lettering.

But all too soon. They were under the dock.

"You smoke?" He'd asked all too nonchalantly, arms folded as he leant against a barnacle and salt infested wooden pillar.

Steve smiled, pulling out a pack of camels and a lighter.

The boy made a face.

"Camels all you got?"

He rolled his eyes and put one between his teeth.

"If you wanna bum one off me, you gotta deal with the camels."

He lit the cig, letting some well needed smoke disappear out of his lips.

It had been awhile since he smoked. Nancy hated smoke, so he quit for her.

Everything he did was for her.

"Alright fine. Pass em' over pretty boy."

And he did. He wanted to show this boy he could trust him. And that it would be okay to come with them to a safe place.

He tried not to think about the pretty boy comment.

"So Rouge... how'd you find out it was me." He placed the cigarette against his teeth, holding his hand out for the lighter.

"You uh, stretched... I saw a feather."

The boy blinked. A small grin fighting against his lips.

"S' that easy huh?"

"Well, and I was looking for you also."

If Steve didn't know better, he'd think he just saw a gleam in the boys eye.

"Lookin' for me huh? You some sort of admirer?" He smirked against the nicotine and smoke.

"No. I'm part of Hawkins school for gifted youngsters. And we think you'd like it."

The boy shook his head. He laughed sourly while his curls bounced across his face.

"No way in Hell pretty boy, I'm not going to some lab to get tested."

Steve sighed. Him and this boy we're almost one in the same.

"I thought that too when they recruited me."

He smiled at the memory.

Hopper holding out a freshly gloved hand to a heaving Steve. Tommy and him had done a number on their group.

Hopper had said "Son. I know you want better. You deserve better. Come with me and I'll show you."

And he followed. Still anxious though. He didn't trust anyone except Hopper. It took a long time to open up to Joyce. Especially when the first thing she did to him was surprise him with a bone crushing hug. Which made him get spooked and grab her arm. Causing her to pass out.

"You're a freak like me?"

He didn't have time to answer. Because he was blown back into a pillar by a screaming Dustin.

"Steve!!!!"

He saw the tan boy jump a little. His sweatshirt puffing out.

Probably his feathers ruffling.

But his focus soon came to the wide eyed boy gripping onto his jacket.

"Hothead is Hot Head for a reason!"

Was all he said before looking over his shoulder and zooming behind Steve.

A young girl shot down to the sand. Her body entirely enflamed. She was panting. Her eyes glaring straight at them. Nostrils flared, she planted her feet.

"Shit Steve!" Dustin squealed, gripping the boy closer, covering himself fully.

"Dude! What do you expect me to do?" He glanced behind him and then glanced to the winged boy, scowling into his cigarette. Staring at the girl.

"You creep!" The girl roared running straight for them.

Steve hardly had time to think about moving, but Dustin zoomed them out of the way before anyone was hurt.

But the wood behind them wasn't safe. The girl rammed into it, fire spreading up.

"Shit dude the pier!" Steve gawked.

"Handle the girl I'll get the fire!"

Dusting shook his head, shoving Steve forward.

"No! I'll get the water, cause I'll get it done in double the time. You get the girl. Get her into the water and use your voodoo hand stuff."

Dustin zoomed down.

"It's not voodoo hand stuff! That makes it sound dirty!" He yelled.

And the kid was right. He was dousing the flames double the time.

The girl was still charging straight for Dustin.

"Hey! Hey! Hey!"

He yelled getting the girls attention. She sneered, snapping to look at him.

The other teen was just watching. A small smirk on his features.

"Gee thanks asshole!" He called before he was barreled over into the sand.

She grabbed his shirt, holding a flaming fist up.

"What do you and that creep want!"

Steve panicked. Trying to crawl to the water to douse the flamed girl. But she was strong and held him there.

He tried to throw sand, sand can douse flames.

But it wasn't enough.

"Hey shit for brains!" He heard the teen say, but Dustin was already on him. Zooming around him in a circle.

"Hey! You stay there."

"ANSWER ME!" The girl roared, her hand getting closer than comfortable.

"Ahh I'm sorry!" Steve called out struggling to pull off his glove.

"What are you doing? Hey! Stop!" She gripped his forearm, burning through the leather, just barely grazing his skin. Cheap Melted leather melded to his forearm.

He wheezed out. Burns never felt good.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Dammit. I'm sorry!"

With his ungloved hand he reach for her face. His hand reaching for her cheek. Burning his hand in the process.

But the flames were gone and the girl fainted, falling on top of him.

Her once flaming hair, now bright red and falling down against her shoulders.

"Sorry! Shit sorry kid!"

"Hey what did you do to her!" The boy roared. Placing the exact moment to kick Dustin in the stomach, sending him towards the water. Besides Steve.

"Listen! She's okay!" He scooped her up, placing her slumped against the dock.

"Like hell she's okay! What did you do!"

The teen roared, gripping off his sweatshirt, wings unwrapping from his waist, on full display.

They were beautiful, white and strong and gorgeous.

Steve just stared. His words leaving him.

"Woah..."

He heard dustin whisper, his eyes the same place his was.

Staring at the beautiful man in front of them.

"What did you do!" His wings flapped, Steve stood from the sand. Moving away from the girl.

He tried to speak, but as soon as he opened his mouth he was met with a jab to the jaw.

"HEY!" Dustin yelled, zooming forward to lunge at the teen.

Steve had, had enough of this. Let's see what this girls power can do.

But before he could try, there was another fist to his nose. He stumbled.

Dustin was thrown against a pillar. He slumped down. Passing out.

"Shit." Steve hissed. His nose gushing blood. Searing pain coming from his forearm and opposite to his hand.

He was over this. He wasn't going to let some angel winged boy beat him down.

He focused his breathing. Engulfing his body in flames. The girls power.

And he loved it.

He looked forward. The winged boy a few feet in front of him. Stumped and looking between him and the young girl.

Steve smirked, lunging forward, pushing against the boys waist. Pushing them to the ground.

He crawled on top of him. Flaming hand above his head.

"Stand down!" He yelled, gripping the angel by his pendant with his gloved hand.

He put his hands up and nodded assuringly.

Steve sighed, deflating. The fire disappearing before anyone knew it was there.

"Good." He huffed. Catching his breath. "Can we just talk?"

The boy nodded. Steve crawled off of him. Helping him up. He noticed the boys burned sides. Steve had tapped him there. Dammit.

"Sorry about... your torso." He muttered. The teen laughed letting his head fall back while he lifted him off the sand. "Sorry about your nose.... and jaw. And your friend there."

Steve smirked, brushing himself off. "Asshole." The teen smirked back, his chest puffing out and wings flicking. "Back at ya." ....... They talked. They got them packed. The girl. Max, woke up. She threw a fit. Because, who wouldn't.

The boy, Billy. Seemed ecstatic to leave, ready to leave actually. Packed up 2 bags and a suitcase worth. Even brought his surfboard.

Steve didn't have the heart to tell him there was no ocean in Hawkins.

Max, packed her skateboard and just a suitcase. Less than her brother.

Steve had asked if they wanted to wait for their father to be home before they left, but Billy shook his head and kissed 'Susan' on the cheek goodbye. Max barreled into her mother. Squeezing her tightly while she promised to call and write once a week. Billy said he'd call. Never said when though.

Steve figured they didn't have the best family atmosphere, most mutants didn't. ......... They boarded the jet, placing it on manual. The way home already programmed in.

Steve unbuckled from his seat. Moving towards  Billy, Walkman in his ears. Close to asleep. Max was awake asking Dustin questions. Dustin was his usual talkative self. Answering Max's question with the same amount of energy a sugar high kid would. But in Dustin's case, he was always on a sugar high.

Steve shook Billy awake. His eyes shot up and his body stiffened. Going cold. But soon he relaxed, deflating like a balloon. Steve motioned to his headphones and made it look like he was taking his own off. Rounding a hand by and beside his ear.

Billy caught on and moved his headset away. "What's up?" He whispered, leaning towards the boy.

"I noticed I burned your sides earlier...We have a pretty incredible first aid kit near the back compartment, want to join me? Your sister burned me pretty bad..." He gestured towards his sleeve where a red and blistering hand print was on his fore arm. And where melted leather had suck itself to it.

Billy thought for a second but nodded. Unbuckling from his seat and following after. Well that was a start.