#for the bat movement i actually used what i learned from the hand wave

[dont-look-me-in-the-eye]

@ryokami-coffee day 7: free character animation

RAAAH

i pretty much used everything i learned this week (fucked up most of the hair movement (from the line in wind exercise) so i had to cut it out but it's Okay). i had fun with this.

one week down, 3 more to go fuckers

[isaacapatow]

* * #TRAINING & #HOME CONVO WITH @orioncarnell

Orion Carnell Isaac, I normally don't question your decisions but are you sure you wouldn't rather train hand-to-hand combat with… well, someone else?

ike Eyyyyy. What's that supposed to mean??

Orion Carnell Well, in comparison you are kind of… -tries to find a different word for scrawny, fails- Are you sure you don't want to use your bat?

ike I'm not gonna use my BAT with you being unarmed! Jesus. People drop weight as they get older, y'know. I used to be all beefy like -- well, not quite as big of a brick shithouse as you, but yeah. I can hold my own.

Orion Carnell … Brick shithouse? -furrows his eyebrows- Did you get into a lot of fights? How did you even get that bat?

ike C'mon. You've known me for more than twenty minutes. -gives an enormous shit-eating grin- I been in more fights than you've had hot meals, kid. -thumbs his nose at the question, affecting a girl's voice to say:- Oh my god, Orion, you can't just ask someone why they're white! -hoots loudly at his own joke, before realizing Orion doesn't know wtf he's talking about- Aaaaand you've never seen that movie, have you.

Orion Carnell To be fair, being in fights and winning them are two different things. -tilts his head in confusion at the 'Mean Girls' reference- No, I can't say I have. Was I supposed to know that reference?

ike -waves his hand at the question about the reference- I've won a few here and there. And the ones I didn't win, well. The other guy knew he'd been in a fight by the time it was through. -cracks his neck- If you wanna know about my bat, big boy, you gotta buy me dinner and give me a little kiss first.

Orion Carnell I see. -seems to consider the proposition seriously for a moment- Where do you want the kiss? -cracks his knuckles in response, before getting into a fighting stance-

ike -chuckles, lifting his fists- My ass, once I wipe the ground with you. -tucks his tongue into his cheek, narrowing his eyes consideringly; makes a couple of feints with his left before taking a real swing with his right-

Orion Carnell I'll hold you to it. -watches Ike closely, falls for the feints and takes the actual hit; on instinct goes immediately for a gut punch in return, before taking a step back to bring in some distance and get a chance to compose himself You do hit harder than you look. Huh.

ike -catches the gut-punch even though he instinctively tries to shuffle back to avoid it; stays hunched over a bit, catching his breath as they separate- And your reach is even longer than it looks. Jeez. -straightens, hanging his hands on his hips for a moment, then hops on his toes- Who taught you to fight? You learn that shit while you were hitting the gym four hours a day?

Orion Carnell -flexes his aching jaw during the brief pause- I wasn't hitting any gym. takes a deep breath, narrowing his eyes as he takes in Ike's movements If you actually manage to "wipe the ground with me" I'll tell you. -goes in for another hit, this time for the liver-

ike -takes that hit so he can grab onto Orion's shirt and hold him there, swinging his knee up to get him a few times in the side before letting go with one parting roundhouse aimed at his ear; scrabbles back real fast out of reach- So what was it then? You don't get muscles like that by accident. Or from eating your Wheaties. -scrubs his face with the back of one fist as he catches his breath, wincing at the pain from where Orian slugged him- Me, I lived on the street for a while. Had to learn to scrap if I didn't wanna get fuckin' rolled every night.

Orion Carnell -stumbles back with the force of the kick, head spinning- Didn't know you lived on the street. -takes a deep holding his throbbing side as he figures out his next move- Farm work. We did most of it by hand. How did you end up on the streets? Or is that a question to ask over dinner? -moves in again, but this time doesn't go for a punch but instead a tackle to take Ike down to the ground-

ike Yeah. For a good long while, no fixed address. Just sidewalks and shelters and sometimes out of the city, upstate. Where it was wooded. -makes an interested sound in his throat at Orion's info about growing up- A farm boy, really? Explains the Clark Kent-ness. -he gives a short laugh at the mention of dinner, surprised enough that he doesn't defend until it's too late -- orion lifts him clean off the ground and takes him down, ike giving a shout as the breath gets knocked out of him-

Orion Carnell -immediately puts most of his body weight, lying half across Ike to hold him down; once he feels like Ike can't get out of his grip, he relaxes a little- You shouldn't get distracted. If I had been an actual opponent, you'd be dead now. Or pinned, like right now. looks down at Isaac with a mildy curious gaze, intrigued by what the man told him about his life and wanting to hear more- Are you okay? Or was I too hard?

ike -faint irritation in his voice, when he makes one heave in an effort to get loose but finds it fruitless- Listen. I don't need a lecture. I've survived this long without your sage and wise advise, brat. -stares at Orion when the younger man asks if he went too hard- If you were too much for me, Orion, you woulda known it. I would've told you. -grins suddenly, smacking a hand over Orion's mouth and then kissing it- There you go, you won. Let me up now.

Orion Carnell You wouldn't have survived me, though. -eyes widen in surprise at the sudden hit and then kiss; stares at Ike for a moment, both a little dumbfounded and confused, before getting back up to his feet and holding out a hand to help Ike- What was that for? I thought I was supposed to kiss you. And buy you dinner.

ike -is charmed by Orion's matter-of-fact arrogance though he doesn't let on- Hupsy-daisy, there we go. -smacks dust off himself once he's on his feet- You won, so you get kissed. Them's the rules. But I can do you one better-- -swings fast on Orion with a glint in his eyes, adrenaline up, aiming his knuckles square for the other man's mouth-

Orion Carnell I don't remember that being the rul- -gets caught entirely off guard by the punch; gets hit straight into the mouth and falls onto his back; stares up at Ike in surprise, blood trickling from his busted lip, before mustering the hint of a smile- Suppose I should listen to my own advice. -licks the blood from his lips as he sits back up- You win that one.

ike -steps over Orion's prone body, one foot planted on either side of his hips, smirking down at him and flexing his fingers- All that wisdom and you dropped it in the shitter. C'mon. Up you get. -reaches down to angle a shoulder under Orion's arm to lever him up though he hardly needs it- So your folks owned a farm, huh? I think that's the most personal information I've gotten outta you yet.

Orion Carnell -pushes up with Ike's help to get back to his feet, feeling slightly dizzy after that hit- You're not too forthcoming either, most of the times. -wipes the blood off his lip, before looking down at Ike, considering- It was my dad. Who trained me. Taught me most of my fighting tricks. -cracks his neck, slightly wincing at the pain throbbing in his body- Want to go for another round?

ike And push my luck? No thank you. We can beat the tar out of each other when we don't have a scouting mission the next day. Thanks for this, though, Orion. -cocks his head, thinking of something- Y'know, when I was a kid I thought the constellation was Irish? O'Ryan. It's a helluva name for your parents to give you. Though if you were learning fighting from the old man on your farm, I guess they figured you could handle such a weighty name.

Orion Carnell -tilts his head, letting out an amused snort at Ike's revelation, before becoming contemplative- Never thought about that, really. But… maybe you're right. hint of a smile appears on his lips, before disappearing again- Oh, before you leave- leans forward and presses a kiss to Isaac's lips (because "them's the rules")

===

Orion Carnell -hears a knock on the door; sits up on the sofa, Cat on his lap- Who's there?

ike Just me! I came to see if your fridge was running.

Orion Carnell -brows furrow in confusion- I don't- is that some kind of reference again? -gently lifts Cat off his lap before opening the door for Ike-

ike Aw, kid, you're killing me. -peers past Orion the minute he opens the door, then grins at him, punching his arm- It's a joke. You say, yeah, my fridge is running! and I say, well, you better go catch it! -snickers- Invite me in. You're dying to have me over. (edited)

Orion Carnell That is… really not a good joke. -tries to hide his amusement, shaking his head Am I? I was unaware of that. -still decides to step aside to let Ike into his small apartment-

ike Aaaand you have a cat. God, does everyone need to have some kind of furkid around? -he eyes the cat warily- They don't like me. I think.

Orion Carnell Furkid? -raises his eyebrows: Cat stretches before jumping from his spot from the couch to walk over to Ike, letting out a greeting mrrrow- If Cat doesn't like you, I'd have to reconsider our partnership.

ike -gives Orion a glance, before stooping down to rub his knuckles against the cat's skull and let it push its face against his thumb- Here's to making a good impression, then. -lets the cat rub a bit more, then straightens up- Barn cats, right? I can see how you'd get attached to them if they're the only things standing between you and a mouse infestation.

Orion Carnell -Cat purrs, taking the chance to rub against Ike's legs before coming up to Orion- I think he doesn't dislike you, at least. -gently picks up Cat and holds him in his arm- I'm not sure if he used to be a barn cat.

ike Well I didn't mean him specifically was a barn cat. Just surmising that's why you like the species. -starts roaming around looking at things- Forgive me if I have no follow up questions about your cat. I'm more interested in you, Kong. -starts poking at a shelf-

Orion Carnell Kong? -shakes his head, assuming it's another reference he is not going to understand- So you are not here to tell me bad jokes but to rummage through my things? Can I ask why?

ike No you cannot ask why. What you can do is get me something to drink -- your choice -- and then explain what … this is. -he picks up something at random from the table, turning it back and forth- Go on. I'm parched. Hydrate me.

Orion Carnell -contemplates his options before putting Cat down and going into the kitchen; comes back with a bottle of lemonade- Here. -hands Ike the bottle- And that's a shortwave radio. Doesn't pick much up anymore, though.

Ike Where'd you get it? No, actually -- why'd you get it. Were you trying to pick up survivor messages? -he takes the lemonade gratefully, downing most of it in one go- Lots of people do that. Lots of people give up on it when they don't hear what they're hoping for.

Orion Carnell It belonged to my parents. I thought it'd be practical, so I took it. -shrugs and sits back down on the couch- That sounds like you did that too. -begins to pet Cat who begins to purr- A lot of people were sending messages like that when it started. Where to meet up, who went missing, who died. It stopped after some time.

ike -watches Orion sit down, but doesn't follow suit, still looking at things- Yeah. It did stop. Bit by bit, people moved on. -pauses in front of some photographs- You had family, you had your parents. They were alive when you took the shortwave? (edited)

Orion Carnell -pauses and stays silent for a moment, eyes fixing on Ike- …No. They died before the outbreak. -resumes petting Cat, but watches Ike carefully- Is there a reason for you asking about that?

ike If mine hadn't been dead I wouldn't have tried to save 'em. -he's still not looking at Orion, picking up something heavy … a paperweight?- But they lived rural. They might have been fine even if I didn't. A very enclosed community.

Orion Carnell -let's out a soft breath- You didn't have a good relationship with them? -gets up and walks over to Ike to reach for the object in his hands: a small, square, decorated box filled with something heavy-

ike Not really. Once I split from the place I grew up, I never looked back. Nothing there for me. -noting Orion wanting the box, Ike holds it away from him- This is from them? Or from where you grew up?

Orion Carnell -lets out a mildly annoyed huff as Ike holds the box away from him- It's from the farm. -attempts to reach for it again- Isaac. Give me the box.

ike Tell me what it is, first. You don't have to open it. Just tell me.

Orion Carnell … It's ammunition. For hunting.

ike Yeah? -lifts his chin, teeth bared in slight amusement, a clear challenge- For hunting what? -holds out for a few beats, then hefts the box in his hand, and lobs it carefully over to Orion- This is why you should just show me things instead of letting me ferret them out. I've got a nose for it.

Orion Carnell -stares down at Ike, clearly intending on taking the challenge- What do you think? -meets his gaze before catching the box; thinks better than to put it back and slides it into his jacket- I noticed that. I could maybe help you if you told me why you- -pauses, tilts his head- Are you trying to get me to talk about my past?

ike And circle gets the square. -smirks, knowing by now Orion might not get the reference- I'm making conversation, kid. I come to your place, I meet your cat, I drink your lemonade-- -shakes the bottle, then finishes the last bit of the drink- You tell me more than three words about where you come from and what you're all about. (edited)

Orion Carnell And you go through my things. -runs a hand through his hair- This is really the most you way you could have gone about this. -steps back a little after noticing he is still in Ike's personal space There isn't really much to talk about there. My life wasn't that eventful or anything.

ike I don't think that's true. I don't think that's even remotely true, Orion. -follows back into the other man's personal space- And what's more, I think you wanna tell me. You're just not used to telling people shit.

Orion Carnell -squares up a little as Ike pushes back into his space; meets Ike's gaze with a mix of reluctance and defiance- Plenty of people here don't talk about their past. Whether they want to or not. You don't either, most of the time. -narrows his eyes- Why not start us off, if you wanna talk about what came before?

ike -* rocks back on his heels slightly, with a not-entirely kind smile*- Because I'm older than you and I'm your boss. Shit rolls downhill, kid. Not up. Down. I get to call the shots.

Orion Carnell -stares at Ike with an intense expression, a hint of anger and recognition appears in his eyes- You're my boss out there. Not in here. You're not my-stops himself and takes a deep, trembling breath; takes another step back again- You know what? Fine. If you want to do this, let's do it.

ike -keeps his head leaned back, not moving from the spot, his eyes gone more watchful and unreadable- Confess ye to one another that you might be healed. -spreads his hands- I'm not going anywhere.

Orion Carnell I'm not confessing to anything. -averts his gaze and closes his eyes for a moment, before turning his eyes back to Ike, forcing his expression into neutrality My parents were doomsday preppers. From the moment I was born, they spent their time preparing me for when the world was gonna end. They never got to see it. My mum died of cancer, dad got himself killed in a hunting accident. But it did end. And thanks to them, I survived it. Is that what you wanted to hear?

ike Mmmmm. -steps forward more, close enough that he can tap the back of his forefinger against the jacket pocket where Orion put the box- Riiiight. -his smile inches wider- Hunting.

Orion Carnell grabs Ike's wrist, hard, wrenching his hand away Yes. Hunting. What exactly are you trying to imply?

ike -looks at him for a long, long time, tongue caught between his teeth on one side as he keeps the smile. Finally:- Absolutely nothing. The shit we left in the past belongs there. I've seen you out past the wire, kid -- you're no farm boy anymore.

Orion Carnell -stares at Ike for a moment, almost a little dumbfounded- I normally wouldn't say this, but you are an absolute asshole. -let's go of Ike's wrist and runs a hand through his hair, letting out his breath while trying to calm himself- Don't do that again. I will hit you.

ike -clicks his tongue against his teeth and gives his shoulders a shake to settle his jacket- Well. I can recognize a cue to see myself out. But it was good to see where you squat and meet your roomie.

Orion Carnell stays silent for a moment, before sighing softly- You can come again. And knowing you, you probably will, whether I tell you to or not. Just keep your hands to yourself next time. -musters a hint of a tired smile- Alright?

ike Awright. -pauses on his way to the door, whapping the back of his hand against Orion's arm- You're a stand up guy, kiddo. Don't pay any attention to what they all say about you. -heads out before there can be any follow-up questions, snickering to himself-

[rafescoke]

Older ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe falling in love with a Maybank wouldn’t be too bad.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse!, alcohol, getting intoxicated, sexual harassment, swearing, sweet Rafe Cameron

A/N: I don’t think this is my best fic, but let me know if I should continue this mini series!! thank you so much for 500+ followers, ily <33

p.s; you know the drill.. send requests!

(Y/N) wondered if a boy like him would ever like a girl like her.

It’s the soft touches against her skin, you see, that got her all worked up at work. She had a bad day at school, getting in a fight with her brother over not washing the dishes piling up in the sink, and there he was;

In his blue plaid shirt, his hair messily parted and that beautiful smile of his. He laughed at something the girl in front of him had said, and (Y/N) felt a pang of hurt across her heart.

“Go. Table 7.”

“What? I’m on my break!” She huffed, picking up her half-eaten sandwich and motioning it to the manager. “I have 10 minutes left.”

“We’re short of staff today,” he grunted, trying to balance the tray and an iPad on both hands. “Please.”

“Do I get more pay this month?”

“I’ll think about it,” he grumbled, and handed her the tray as she wrapped the sandwich again. “Oh, can you tell your brother that he’s fired? He didn’t come for his shift again today.”

“Not my problem,” she mumbled, taking the tray into her hands before proceeding to the diners. Her eyes swept over the many tables, and stopped at the seventh table from the front.

Fuck.

She swallowed her saliva, trying to contain her nervousness as she walked towards the table. She hoped against hope he wouldn’t notice her and continue to talk to whoever she was in front of him, but she wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey,” Rafe said softly, looking up to her. (Y/N) smiled weakly, not wanting to pull any attention towards her and hurried up to serve them.

“Hey, um-” the girl before him stopped her, and (Y/N) turned to look at her with her usual server smile. She hates it. “The pasta’s cold, can I get a new one?”

“Come on, Dee, it’s not that big of a deal,” Rafe said, but (Y/N) tried her hardest to maintain the smile. She couldn’t care less about her pasta, and she wouldn’t even bat an eye if an animal had crawled into her meal.

“I’ll reheat it for you,” she smiled fakely, picking up the plate before walking back towards the kitchen. Her smile completely disappeared when she pushed through the door separating the dining area and the kitchen, and proceeded to the cook.

“Another bitch?”

“Another bitch,” she sighed, and watched as the cook laughed and placed the pasta in the microwave. “You know, John, I really wish I don’t have to work in a restaurant.”

“It gives money, so I ain’t complaining much,” he mumbled, fiddling with the buttons on the stove. “But you’re still so young, mija. Don’t stress yourself too much. Where’s the brother?”

“JJ? I don’t know. He didn’t even come to school today. I wish he’s a better brother.”

“He is,” he shrugged, watching the timer counted down to signal the end of the reheating process. “He’s just ain’t showing it. They’ll appear.”

“What’ll appear?”

“The love.”

(Y/N) laughed, flatting her tray against the metal surface to let the cook placed the reheated pasta. “There’s no such thing as love, John. It’s all made up for little girls to believe.”

“Are you not a little girl?”

(Y/N) smiled, muttered a ‘thank you’ before proceeding to table number 7. She took a deep breath and forced herself to form the most politest smile ever, and placed the pasta in front of the girl, or Dee, or whatever Rafe was calling her.

“Thanks,” she muttered, not looking at her, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but noticed the side glance Rafe had given her during their brief meeting, but she didn’t want to dwell so much on that thought, not when she needed to make an amount of money to help put food for her family.

“You’re back late.”

“Sorry dad, I was working,” she sighed, placing her house keys on the table. “Have you eaten?”

Luke swatted his hands, motioning that he’s content. (Y/N) sighed a breath of relief, not feeling like making him anything and was just asking out of politeness.

“Your pants are a little bit tight today.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes, the sudden wave of fear engulfing her. She bit her lips before turning to her father, “It’s the only pair I have left. The others are still in the laundry bag.”

“Hmm,” Luke hummed, his eyes still intently glued on the television screen. (Y/N) heard the soaring of a football game, and prayed it was his team that had won the match so that he wouldn’t be as cross.

“I’m going to my room, okay?”

“Wait-”

Her chest was heaving heavily now, being so afraid of her own father that she could feel her tears starting to form. She forced a weak smile, “Yeah?”

She didn’t realise how he had gotten up from his previous seat in front of the television, being so caught up with the warnings inside her head. He leaned onto her, smelling her scent, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re not out with any boys, are you?”

“No,” she whispered, and she gripped onto the hem of her work top. “Dad, can I please go?”

“Why are you so scared?” He continued, his pointer grazing against her ear to her cheeks. “I’m your dad, remember?”

“Dad?”

Luke pulled away from her and walked towards the television again when a certain blonde boy appeared from the front door, his eyebrows furrowed. JJ’s eyes followed his father’s movement, and ended at the sight of his sister.

The tightness in his body softened as he took a step closer to her, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, wiping the hot tears away from her face and giving him a weak smile. “I’m just going to stay in my room, okay?”

“Okay,” JJ said, watching as she walked slowly towards the back of the house. He glanced at his father, silent as ever, and muttered something under his breath before making his way to his room as well.

JJ Maybank hates Luke Maybank more than anything else in the world, but he also loves him more than anything else in the world. He had wished for nothing else other than his father actually being a father figure for (Y/N), if not him. He could see how much she needed Luke to become some kind of a guardian.

Every time there was a PTA meeting, it had been John to come and see her teachers. John had joked a lot of times before, saying how he’s going to adopt her one day, and when JJ was just 14, he used to get so overprotective of his sister that he would pull a face and gesture some kind of a rude word at him.

But if that's what it takes for her to finally be safe, he’s willing to lose her.

“Hey,” JJ knocked on her door softly, and he waited quietly to hear her shuffle of movements. He waited a few more seconds, and when heard the lock unlocking, forced himself a smile.

“Do you want to go to the bonfire party tonight?” He asked, raising his eyebrows to motion how serious he was. JJ never liked bringing (Y/N) to see the other pogues, and he had tried to assure himself that it was because of how she’s a year younger, but he couldn’t deny the real truth;

(Y/N) knew about his huge crush towards Kie, and the last time she hang out with them resulted into him having to tackle her down before she could say anything to the girl.

“Is Kie not coming or something?” (Y/N) made a face, but JJ could see the happy glint in her eyes.

“Can you drop that topic already?” He sighed, “Are you coming or not?”

“Um-” she glanced at something behind her back, sighed, and nodded slowly. “Okay. I guess I could use some time off schoolwork.”

“Don’t stress too much about school,” JJ shrugged, “You’re still 17.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Can you go, now? And oh, you’re fired by the way.”

“They love me, they’ll hire me again,” JJ shrugged, and gave her another comforting smile before making his way back to his room. “You know you can always tal-”

“No, I don’t know,” she groaned playfully, closing the door against his face as JJ laughed. His heart soared, and he swore he would do anything in his will to protect his sister from their father, heartbreak, or whatever.

. . .

“I missed you!” Kie exclaimed, pulling her into a hug and giving her a kiss on her cheeks. “God, you’re taller than me now.”

(Y/N) glanced at her brother, to which he was motioning his thumb against his neck, trying to tell her that he would kill her if she says anything to the girl. (Y/N) laughed, “I missed you too, Kie.”

(Y/N) situated herself beside Pope, watching as he flicked through his Chemistry text book, and scribbled something a note on one of the pages.

“Isotopes has the same number of protons but different number of neutrons,” (Y/N) mumbled, pointing to false knowledge he’ve written. Pope looked at her, amazed, and let out the loudest laugh ever that JJ had to scream from the front for him to shut up.

“Shit, (Y/N),” he continued to laugh, erasing his mistake and jotting down the correct information. “And you’re younger. Do you hear that JJ?”

“What?” JJ yelled back, his eyes focusing on the road.

“Maybe you should be as clever as your sister,” Pope laughed, and Kie gave him a high-five from the front seat. He turned to look at her again, “Where’d you learn that?”

“JJ’s text book.”

Pope laughed, his head shaking at the thought of JJ sleeping while his sister sneaked into his room to steal his text book. He finally understood the reason why he was always in detention for not bringing his book.

“Stay close, and don’t wander away,” JJ warned, staring straight into her eyes. She laughed at his tone, but her smile disappeared when he pulled her again.

“I mean it, (Y/N).”

“Are you seriously turning into dad, now?”

“Don’t mention his name,” he sighed, fixing his hair and walking before him with his friends. “Just stay close, okay?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, already seeing how boring her night was going to be; trying to understand the inside jokes between JJ and his friends, not being allowed to drink any alcohol and is going to be constantly asked to fix her ribbed top so not much of her skin is exposed.

She sighed, following her brother, but as soon as they got further away she felt the need to just hang out, maybe searching for her friends and getting a drink for herself. She was never a fan of alcohol, so JJ really didn’t have to worry about her getting drunk.

“You’re (Y/N), right?”

(Y/N) looked up to a pair of gorgeous green eyes, and she felt her heart sink. She looked away, not expecting her best friend’s boyfriend, and sighed.

“What do you need, Carter? I’m looking for Emily too.”

“Oh, she’s not coming,” he shrugged, standing beside her. She felt the sudden warmth and scooted further, not wanting to allow any attention towards her. “Something about a stomach ache.”

“Why aren’t you resting with her?” She pulled a look, crossing her arms. She didn’t want to talk to him or even look at him, but he didn’t seem to get that note.

“And pass up this year’s bonfire party? Nah,” he sipped on his red cup, and leaned against her. She could feel his lips beside her ear now, “Wanna get a drink?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Come on,” he expressed, throwing his arms up into the air in fake exasperation. “It’s a party. You cannot enjoy a party without being drunk.”

“Hm,” she shrugged, still not interested. She thought about what else she could say to get him away from her. “Worth trying, I guess.”

“You are damn impossible to please, Maybank,” Carter laughed, showing his pearly white teeth. (Y/N) smiled at this, taking the statement into a compliment, and made to walk away. He grabbed her wrist before she could get away, and she sighed in annoyance.

“One drink,” he smiled. “And I’ll leave you alone.”

(Y/N) thought about this, long and hard, and the sudden thought of wanting to be free for once entered her mind. She gave him a small nod.

“One drink.”

“One drink,” he confirmed, and pulled her to the drinks section. (Y/N) waited for him to get her a drink, her eyes swarming over the sea of people dancing, some talking, some already kissing and some just standing. This was her third bonfire party in Obx, and the party didn’t get any boring.

“Here you go,” Carter appeared, placing the red cup into her hands. “Let’s chug it down together. Are you ready? 1, 2, 3!”

(Y/N) scrunched up her face at the strong taste of vodka, feeling her throat burning. It felt good though, especially when you are in need to forget some hesvy things in your mind.

“What do you say?” Carter smiled, “Want more?”

“I’ll try more,” she laughed, giving him the cup as he muttered ‘I told you so’ and came back with another cup. They counted together again, and (Y/N) never felt better after drinking an intoxicating drink.

She didn’t remember why she never liked alcohol, but at that moment, she felt like drinking her money and family issues away. She didn’t even realise when Carter had placed his arms around her, telling her humourless jokes that she laughed at anyways.

“Wanna go to my car?”

“Huh?” She looked at him, half-smiling and half-frowning. She was at her 7th cup now, but being a lightweight person, she felt like she was on her 30th cup. “What for?”

“Driving around town,” he smiled, standing up and offering his hand. “Wanna drive around with me?”

“Just you?” She mumbled, closing her eyes. She could feel his arms around her, trying to help her walk, but she didn’t have enough energy to push him away. If anything, she was glad he had brought her away from the loud music that made her dizzy.

“Where’s the car?” (Y/N) whined, feeling her arms hurting from the rough grip by Carter. She could hear the crunch of twigs under her feet, and when she finally had an ounce of power to see her surroundings, she saw the empty car park near the beach.

“Carter, I don’t feel so good,” she said, trying to push him away. The grip around her tightened, and she had never felt so panicked as she was at that time. She tried to calm down, still looking for anyone who can help her, but the parking lot was deserted.

“Carter, I can walk,” she tried again, but he didn’t let go. She understood the whole situation clearly now, and wished she had stayed with JJ and his friends instead of wandering around by herself.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Carter stopped walking, cursing while he turned to look at the voice behind him. (Y/N) grunted, feeling her arms bruising, and she couldn’t even glance up to see who it was that saved her. She could feel her eyesight getting darker as she leaned on Carter for some type of balance.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business,” Carter groaned, still holding her by his side. “Don’t you have anything to do? Like golf, or something.”

“Nah,” the voice replied, and (Y/N) perked up at the way his voice sounded. It was all so familiar to her. . .

“Look, Cameron, just go, okay? I’m not in your business, so stay out of mine,” Carter huffed, walking backwards slowly. “And she’s with me, right, (Y/N), you’re with me?”

“Let her go, man,” Rafe sighed, “I’m making it easy for you. Let her go.”

“Come on, I’m not letting you take her with you,” he shrugged, “Rafe. I swear. You don’t want to mess with me.”

“Aren’t you a little bit too old for her?” Rafe raised a brow, “Aren’t you my age, or something?”

“Fuck!” Carter yelled, and (Y/N) gasped from the sudden pain coursing through her veins at the jerk. “Go and fuck off.”

“You’re not leaving me a choice, man,” Rafe said, and before anyone could process, Carter was down to the ground, yelling at Rafe for him to stop as he kept throwing punches after punches, his forehead creasing and his knuckles ripping.

(Y/N) groaned from the ground, unable to get up, and she swore he had drugged her. She was never this weak, not even when she was sick, and she hated how she couldn’t even lift a finger.

“Don’t fucking touch her again!” Rafe yelled, spitting on the groaning boy as he grunted against the pain, his knuckles all bruised up and bloody.

“Hey, you’re okay?” Rafe asked, helping her to her feet. (Y/N) nodded, still so weak, and wrapped her hands around his arms as he watched her limped.

“You know what? Let me carry you,” he sighed, looking at the previous space where he had had a fight with Carter. He was nowhere to be seen now, and Rafe didn’t think he could fight him off for the second time, not when he’s tired.

“I can walk,” she mumbled, trying to push him off, but even a second after he let her go she tripped onto the road, and grunted at her burning knees. “My knees, oh my god, I’m in so much pain!”

“Let me carry you,” he sighed again, squatting to her level. She looked so sad, pouting her lips and her eyebrows all scrunched down. She shook her head when he tried to hold her, crossing her arms.

“(Y/N), let me carry you.”

“I don’t even know you!” She spat, her eyes glassy and her cheeks red. Rafe didn’t know she would be like this when she was drunk, but he couldn’t deny the amusement he was feeling.

“Of course you know me,” he tried again, slowly wrapping his fingers around her wrist. “It’s Rafe.”

“I don’t know any Rafe.”

“It’s Rafael Cameron,” Rafe rolled his eyes, cringing at the sound of his full name. He never liked the name, saying how it made him look like some type of a knight in 1823, but it was one of the only memories left of his real mother.

“I know a Rafael,” she nodded. “But he don’t look like you.”

“(Y/N), let’s just go before some creep decides to kidnap you,” he pulled her up, to which she obliged at the sound of ‘kidnapping’. “I’ll send you to your house, okay?”

“No!” She pulled him close, hugging him tightly that he was too stunned to react. His arms weren’t even touching her, stopping midway, and he only hugged her back when she cried.

“He’s gonna be mad at me,” she whimpered, tugging on his collar. “And he’s going to beat me up and-”

“Wait, wait, who?” He pulled her off, watching as she looked at him with those eyes again. Rafe furrowed his eyebrows, his chest heaving. “Does JJ do-”

“Not JJ,” she cried, and pulled him towards a random car. “Can I please just stay with you until the next morning? Please.”

“Are you sure?” Rafe looked around, and he thought about Dee who was waiting for him at the party. He shook his head at the thought, not wanting to put her first. “We can stay somewhere else?”

(Y/N) nodded frantically, and Rafe thought about the truth behind all of her words. She was never this miserable, looking all happy when he sees her at the restaurant, taking orders with that goddamn smile and laughing at the unfunny jokes old men would give her just for some tips.

Without him knowing, the restaurant by the bay became one of his top favourite restaurants, but it wasn’t because of the food. Rafe never really liked their steaks, always preferring the one closer to the country club, but he was willing to put aside his cravings for that one certain waitress.

“Okay,” he nodded, leading her to the jeep parked a few cars away. She looked so tired, her hair messily tucked behind her ears, her makeup smudged, and Rafe felt a sudden wave of relief for being there in the parking lot to grab his phone in the car.

The drive was silent, and Rafe even thought that she had gone to sleep. When he looked at her from the corners of his eyes, he was surprised to see her silently staring at the dark view outside, unmoving.

He parked outside of the hotel he usually goes to when he’s in need for some alone time, checking the time on his phone before helping her out. She didn’t say a word to him, keeping her head down, only inching closer when they were on their way up to their room.

(Y/N) never been to a fancy hotel like this, only staying in a small hotel in Spain with her aunt 4 summers ago, so she was quite bewildered when she looked around the room. She bit her lips, staring at the one queen bed, and turned to look at him.

“Are we sharing a bed?”

“Oh, no, we don’t have to,” Rafe quickly said, trying to calm her down. “I think you should sleep it off. I’ll stay on the sofa.”

“Okay, thanks.”

But she couldn’t close her eyes. Every time she tried to sleep it off, she would think about Luke with his hands around her face, forcing her to look up to his eyes and whispering sweet-nothings into her ear. JJ never knew about this, and (Y/N) never wanted to tell him out of fear and disappointment, so she had been keeping the secret for a really long time.

“Rafe?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for bringing me here.”

“It’s nothing,” he huffed, and (Y/N) heard him shift. The sound of a pillow hitting the floor blared throughout the dark room, and (Y/N) felt bad about letting him sleep on the sofa, especially when he was the one who had brought her to the hotel.

“You can stay in the bed with me.”

“Really? I can’t do that.”

“Why?” She asked, because she really didn’t mind sharing a bed with Rafe Cameron. It wasn’t like she was going to attack him.

“Just because.”

“Is it because you don’t like me?” She asked, and she heard an amused laugh coming from the sofa.

“Trust me, you’re wrong on that one,” he replied simply, and (Y/N) had to think of what he said again.

Wrong?

“Is it because I’m a minor?”

“We’re only 2 years apart.”

“So what’s the problem?” She pressed, because she couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just sleep on the same bed as her. They didn’t have to be all pushed up to each other. . .

“Because,” he sighed, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of stuff.”

“Rafe, I don’t understand,” she closed her eyes, her mind woozy from the back and forth fight with the boy.

Rafe sighed again, licking his lips before standing up from the sofa. “Okay, but I’m not a creep, okay?”

“So it is because I’m a minor,” she nodded to herself, and she felt a sudden wave of disappointment. If only she was a year older.

“Whatever,” he breathed, trying to get the best position under the covers. He felt her fingers and quickly pulled his hand away, his heart beating.

“You’re weird.”

“I just said I’m scared,” he shrugged, and finally settled comfortably. He felt so much better now, not having to pull his legs together and crossed his arms just to fit on the sofa.

“What if I do want you to sleep with me on the bed?”

“Shut up,” he groaned.

“No, Rafe, what if I do want you-”

“Shut up before I make you.”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she thought of the many times she had repeated this exact line in a movie and how she had romanticised her own scenario to that line. She never thought of Rafe Cameron as the protagonist, only imagining Timotheé Chalamet and no one else.

“You’re still drunk, okay?” He suddenly said, and (Y/N) bit her lips at his exasperated tone. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’m not Carter.”

“Okay,” she said softly, “I didn’t ask for you to fuck me, though.”

“Really? You’re begging for it right now.”

“I just want you to get comfortable.”

“Hm.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“Yeah? You should see the eyes you give me at the restaurant,” he replied simply, and he could feel himself thinking of her slightly narrowed eyes, looking straight at him.

He shifted his position, placing a pillow against his front.

“Why didn’t you act on it?”

“Oh god, we’re still on this?” He grunted, “Go to sleep.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to fuck me?”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and before she could think about anything else to say to him next, he had pulled her shoulders so that she could look at him.

She squinted against the darkness, using the moonlight as a source of light to stare into his beautiful blue orbs.

“I would fuck you, but I won’t do it when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You are, because-” he grazed his thumb against her bottom lip, and she had to hold her breath. “You’re not this open to me when you’re sober.”

“Isn’t it more fun, though? To fuck when you’re drunk?”

“I’d only do that if you’re my girlfriend.”

“So can I be your girlfriend?”

“I’ll think about it tomorrow,” he smiled, and pushed her back to face the ceiling. “Now sleep.”

“What if I want to become your girlfriend now?”

“JJ will kill me.”

“Can you kill him back?”

“(Y/N),” Rafe sighed, being so tired of going back and worth with her on this. Of course he wanted to touch her, more than anything else in the world, but he couldn’t do it when she was in a state like this. “Go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good girl.”

“Okay.”

He waited a few more minutes, ready to answer any remarks, but what came after was only her soft snores. He sighed in relief, leaning on his arms as he stared at her. He watched as her chest heaved peacefully, feeling all kinds of emotions at once, and he finally realised the truth;

This time he wasn’t playing; Rafe Cameron would never bring a girl to a fancy hotel for nothing other than sex, but here he was; refusing her teasings, and keeping her safe. It finally hit him; he would bring (Y/N) anywhere if that’s the only way to keep her smile.

He shut his eyes, making a mental note to make fun of her drunk state in the morning.

#Part 2

-

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[writingsbychlo]

mistletoe magic | stiles stilinski

word count; 10,490

summary; stiles learns that his cute neighbour might be a witch after accidentally getting her spellbooks delivered to him instead.

notes; I know a witch!au isn’t a huge au for stiles, because he’s had evident races of magic throughout the series anyway, but just enjoy it!

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, use of magic

It had been a pretty regular Monday morning for Stiles.

At six sharp, he’d been up and awake, barely functional but stumbling through his apartment and clicking on the coffee machine, before hopping into the shower for a quick wash. When he’d emerged, the machine had just finished grinding, as always, his routine functioning like a well-oiled machine now, and he’d moved it all across into a to-go cup and left it on the counter before going to get dressed.

He’d stumbled around to find his school books and shove them into a bag, eaten two cinnamon pop tarts that had burned the tips of his fingers when he’d grabbed them straight from the toaster, and had still been chewing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and sipped at his coffee, straight into the elevator at twenty to seven.

It was a fifteen-minute walk across campus to his early morning lecture on a Monday, leaving him with a few minutes to spare, in case he saw the sweet older lady from two floors down and wanted to say ‘hi’, or the cute neighbour who lived across the hall that always made him fall over his own feet, or maybe even the kid who delivers newspapers and is always falling off of his bike. He made it on time, took some great notes, and was feeling a little more alive and welcome into his day.

At exactly ten past one, he’d been home, having gone to the library to get some study in and find his new books, and get lunch at the diner he always ate at after classes, a cheeseburger and curly fries, and grabbed his letters and a parcel from the mail slot with his housing number printed on, tucking the package under his arm and heading upstairs and back to his flat, ready to flick through his bills.

All according to plan. One year and four months away at university and he knew every day like he’d been doing it for a decade, so he was only half-way to the kitchen when he remembered the package he was clutching under his arm, coming to a complete halt, throwing the usual assortment of envelopes away to the counter, and producing the neatly wrapped bundle.

He didn’t question it, not even bothering to look at the front, figuring it was just an early delivery on the textbooks that he wasn’t expecting to get here for another three weeks, finger slipping under the folds of the brown paper and tearing it away, fingers dancing over the covers of the books, before his brows were furrowing once again.

These were definitely not his ‘intro to psychological profiling’ textbooks.

Beautiful swirls in gold, carved into dark leather across the front, Latin words he didn’t understand before he was opening the cover, brushing off a layer of dust and letting one brow arch up. The text inside was English - though, no modern - and paper that he was cautious to take care of, simply from what appeared to be the age of it, stained and worn, finger marks clear on the corner from being passed down through generations. It was handwritten, drawings in old ink that had leaked onto the paper a little, rough and coarse, and labelled doodles with names he had never heard of before.

At a glance, he would assume it to be some kind of witchcraft.

He felt on edge, suddenly. He’d left Beacon Hills to come to somewhere that no supernatural would follow, where things like werewolves were still a myth, something to be laughed at, and he swallowed thickly, looking around his apartment as though someone was going to jump out. He loved his friends, he really did, and he didn’t so much mind the supernatural when he was with them all because they protected him, but alone out here, he and his bat didn’t stand a chance.

Now, it was Christmas, he knew this from the poor excuse of a tree up in his living room, and the snow outside, and the fact that for the last six weeks, his usual mochas had been a gingerbread-spiced mocha, on the insistence of the barista who served him whenever he ventured into the little coffee shop joint, and he was growing find of it. So, he tried to be optimistic, in the spirit of festivities and all that, and texted the group chat, waiting to see if any of them had sent him the books as a present, maybe even his father or Melissa. He even texted Parrish.

Except, they all said no, and now, he was stumped. Then, as he was being extra nosey and flicking through the book, he came across a page marked with a small slip of card, the item falling out, and he cursed, having no idea which page it came from, but as he picked up the piece of paper, one of the questions in his puzzle finally gained another piece towards the jigsaw.

‘(Y/N), the spell you’re looking for is here, but be careful, it’s a strong one.’

So, the books are for his hot neighbour, the next number up from his, and it now made sense as to why he had these books - they were a mistake. It opened a new question, however, as to why you would be getting them.

He had absolutely no patience, barley remembering to flick the catch on his door so that he’d be able to get back inside, before he was striding across the hall in one, two steps, and knocking on the wood. He could hear you shuffling around inside, the soft and muffled notes of the classic rock music you’d been listening to getting turned right down to low. It only took you a further few seconds until you were opening the door, but it felt like years to him with his impatience, fingers tapping against the books agitatedly, biting the nail of the other thumb, and his foot was tapping against the floor.

When you opened the door, though, he felt like it was too soon, like he wasn’t prepared for what to say, his breath hitching in his throat as his heart leapt in his chest, eyes sweeping down along your body and widening at your bare legs, only a t-shirt hanging on your frame, rising up to reveal the edge of a pair of white lace panties as you opened the door, and he forced his eyes back up to yours, wincing as he bit down a little too harshly on his nail, and pulled it from his mouth, shaking it as his dropped to his side.

“Hey, neighbour.”

“H-Hi. Hello. Yes, hi.” He already wanted to die a little bit, he hadn't stuttered this much in front of a pretty girl since junior year in high school, even Lydia had lost this effect on him, and college really had been a growing experience for him. He’d had a fair few hook-ups, and experimented, and he wasn’t shy about flirting when he wanted to, but you always through hi right back through loops, like he was still that kid with a buzzcut.

“What can I do for you, four-A?”

“Stiles. My name is Stiles.” He waited for the usual reaction, the cringe, the eyebrows shooting up, the scowl, something to indicate that you had actually heard the pronunciation, but you only smiled a little wider.

“I know. After I introduced myself and you fell over and didn’t give me your name, I checked the mail in your post-slot. I was curious. There was a lot addressed to Mieczysłav, but then one with a handwritten address to Stiles.” You shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, and crossing your arms, and while you might seem casual, at least his degree was coming in useful for something, as your body language read an entirely different reaction, insecurity and worry rolling off of you in invisible waves of tells.

He rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand, laughing slightly. “That sounds like something I would do.”

Silence fell between you both for a second, and he couldn't help but stare, taking in every detail of your face, the way your lower lip was a little reddened, and he figured you must have been nibbling on it while working, and your hair was messy, an attempt to pin it back that seemed to have come loose and entirely ineffective, presumably from dancing, because you looked a little flushed. When you raised your brows at him a little, he realised you were waiting for him to explain himself, why he was on your doorstep, and he flushed with embarrassment shaking his head clear.

“I got your spellbooks by mistake.” He held them out, eyes widening even more, before his jaw was dropping open. “Book. Regular books. Not spell books, because that would imply magic, right? And, that’s dumb. Just regular books. I didn’t look at them, at all, not even a little bit, I promise.”

“You don’t believe in magic, then?” You took them from him, a coy smile on your lips, and you placed them down on the counter beside the door, pushing a bowl of potpourri getting pushed aside, along with your car keys and what looked like an incense burner.

“Do you?”

He was testing the water, seeing where your mind was at, and as a whistling came from your kitchen, you glanced back over to the kettle on the hob, and he thought this conversation might be about to come to an end. “Well, I think there’s always a little magic in life, even if people don’t notice it. You have to believe in magic to be able to see it. It’s like the supernatural that way.”

“And, you believe in the supernatural, huh?” He felt bad for the way he said it, because it was mocking, but he had to be sure that you weren’t messing with him, or spying on him, he had to try and find out who you were, but you only looked away as the whistling got louder, opening the door a little more and waving him inside as you walked away, and he stumbled after you and closed the door before his mind had even caught up with the movement of his feet.

Your apartment was littered with plants. The windowsills were lined with them, all brought green and blooming, even though he was sure it wasn’t the right season, and there was even a set of cactuses along a shelf near the corridor. There was a homey feel to your place, almost earthy, neutral tones and soft accents, a smell that was so calming he felt his own muscles begin to relax, and the music had changed from classic rock to some country song he was sure he’d heard in a movie somewhere but couldn't quite place it, and he followed you to the kitchen.

Rows of cookbooks and recipe folders stacked up on top of a lower cupboard, and he swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from the way your lace panties hugged your ass deliciously as you reached up for a mug, bringing back two, and pouring them both full of the herbal concoction you’d been making. On a mismatching saucer, you offered it to him, and he sniffed it carefully, but remembered his manners, mumbling a ‘thank you’, because his mother raised his right, even if he was a little suspicious of you.

“Relax, Stiles, if I was going to poison you, I wouldn’t be giving you tea made of Valerian and Lemon Balm. Do you want any honey, honey?” You grinned a little at your joke, but he shook his head, watching as you stirred a spoonful of the sticky sweetener into your own, and taking a tentative sip after blowing on the surface. It wasn’t all that bad, he had to admit, and he found his tensions slipping away a little. “It’s for relaxing, and helping with sleep.”

“It’s good.” You smiled, blowing lightly on your own, and he decided that he could busy himself by checking out your posters. An interesting arrangement, one was a band poster, the other was a chart with the phases of the moon, a third with diagrams of plants and little facts underneath, and the fourth, with symbols and drawing he didn’t quite understand. “So, you’re really embracing that whole witch thing, then?”

“Well, seeing as I am a witch, I would think it’s only appropriate.” He tried to hide his grin behind his mug, shaking his head a little, not believing that they really existed, and you didn’t miss the glint in his eyes, clearly, because there was a playful kind of offence flashing across your face. “You can’t tell me you think I’m insane, not when there’s so much of the supernatural all over you, Stiles.”

“The supernatural? Really?”

“So, you’re not the emissary to a pack of werewolves?” You challenged, his jaw dropping at the accuracy of it, and it was your turn to laugh at him. “It’s literally stitched into your aura, I sensed another supernatural the second you walked into the building.”

“I just associate with a lot of ‘em, but I’m not supernatural myself.”

“You sure about that?” He stilled, memories flashing behind his eyes of a time when he once was, and you seemed to pick up on the slightly sour mood he’d taken on, then again, he wasn’t really sure where your abilities lay, being that Scott or Derek would have simply sniffed it out on him. Your hand on his arm snapped him back to the moment, fingers squeezing lightly at his bicep. “You don’t have to talk about it.”

“There was a possibility, once, but it’s gone. There’s a dark chapter in my past, and the spark I was told I once had disappeared when I got through it.”

It went quiet again after that, your fingers slipping down from his arm to take his, and you placed your cup down, the steaming brew barely touched, but he followed suit, letting himself be pulled along as you directed him back to the living room. You were distracting him, it was an obvious ploy, but he was excited to learn, and he let the sadness of remembering his possession fade away as the thrill of new knowledge took over. “I can tell you have a lot of questions, so, what do you want to know first?”

He rubbed at his chin, settling down onto the couch at the edge of the room, finding it surprisingly comfortable, and you were busying yourself around him, a little water jug in your hand as you nurtured the abundance of houseplants you owned. “How did you know about my pack? And how much do you know about them?”

“It’s in your aura, I suppose. I can just pick up hints of different things when you’re around. The wolves are obvious, I’ve been around a lot of wolves. I also get death, and I've never met a banshee, but I assume that’s what it is. I knew you were the emissary because you’re the only magic in there, I would sense other traces on you, and there’s something else I can’t quite place.” Your face screwed up a little bit as you thought about it, nose wrinkling adorably before shrugging. “Like a werewolf, but not quite. I can’t get it.”

“She’s a werecoyote.”

You paused your pouring, turning to look at him, eyes flicking lightly around his being, before smiling slightly to yourself, and going back to your task. “Huh. Interesting.”

“Have you been a witch your whole life?”

“Since the day I was born, but I didn’t know or start practising until I was older. It just kinda’ happens, comes out of nowhere at a certain age, you start to realise you have abilities.” You had moved onto using a dropper to give little drips of water to cacti and succulents, standing on a small step stool as you did.

“Do you have to go to a school, like Harry Potter? Do you have a wand?”

You laughed at that, a genuine and hearty laugh, and you finished up your tasks, legs folding underneath yourself and you smirked a little at him as you sat down and got comfortable. “You wish, Stilinski. It’s not like that, it's more of an earthly connection than magic. It’s why my plants are so healthy. I can brew stuff, make little potions-” You motioned a hand over the jars lining the shelves on the walls, his eyes scanning over each one, picking out the neatly written titles across the fronts. “-I can cast very light spells, but it’s not the sort of thing where you can curse people, or teleport.”

“So, you can’t curse people to turn into frogs?”

“No, unfortunately not.” He was sure your giggle was the sweetest he’d ever heard, and he dared to twist himself around a little more, inching slightly closer to you across the couch. “I can do some stuff, like make your skin break out or give you a rash that won’t go away until I let it, and I can even give you headaches and such, but I don’t like to dabble in that sort of stuff. I much prefer protection charms.”

“Protection charms?” His heart skipped a little beat at the way your face lit up as you nodded, and he was intrigued, interest piqued. “I could use one of those, y’know, I’m incredibly clumsy and often get into supernatural trouble when I’m home. Hasn’t been so bad since I got here. Will you make me one?”

Your eyes left him, bottom lip nibbled between your teeth, and for a second he had worried he’d messed up, unsure on how witch spellcasting etiquette worked, but then you were moving across the room, opening up the cabinet on the other side of the room, and inside the doors and wooden frame hung what must be close to a thirty different decorative charms. Some were dreamcatchers or garlands hanging on the inside of the door, others were handcrafted little ornaments sitting on the shelves and filling them up, and your fingers were flittering over them all.

When you found what you were looking for, you lifted it out, a dream catcher that was bright and colourful and a little odd-looking, before bringing it back over to him, and presenting him with it cautiously. “You already made me one?”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t let the cute guy from across the hall get any more injuries. I watched you fall over five times in your first week living here. You’re really clumsy.”

He felt heat rush to his cheeks, and yet he couldn't help the goofy grin that travelled across his features, not mentioning the fact that he noticed you sitting considerably closer to home when you took your seat once again. He was embarrassed for two reasons, the first being that you had noticed his innate penchant for ridiculous injuries, but more overwhelmingly, the second being that you still thought he was cute. College might have helped him bloom a little, but when he had a crush, he was still a bumbling mess, and he didn’t know quite how to respond.

He busied himself with taking in the details of the dreamcatcher. Somehow, despite this being the first real conversation that the two of you had ever had, passing and fleeting chats in the halls and elevator not counting, you had managed to capture his entire essence, he could already tell. The strings were made of wool, chunky and all different colours, a mix of yellows and blues, woven in together and tangled in strange patterns, but beautiful nonetheless, and the little accents were what made it complete.

A button that had fallen off of one of his flannels, he recognised the distinctive wooden piece, and it was woven into the design, along with a blue ribbon in the same colour of the jeep that was tied in a bow, and a wooden twig tangled in it. Dangling on more pieces of wool from the bottom was a keyring he was sure he’d lost after leaving it downstairs overnight, the Yoda on it looking cleaner than he remembered, and you must've cleaned it. There was also a black feather, and a sprig of some kind of dried herb that he didn't recognise, but enjoyed the smell anyway.

It was intricate and personal, and he felt chuffed just to know that you’d made one for him, a little security and peace washing over him to know that someone was out here looking after him, completely unmaliciously, simply because you wanted to.

“This is incredible.” You let out a breath of relief, he recognised it in the way your body slumped a little, and he placed it down carefully on the coffee table beside you both, reaching out to take your hand in his, and daring to lace your fingers together and squeeze in gratitude, and you held onto him yourself, gaze dropping down to your connected hands. In a bold move of your own, you lifted your other hand, holding onto his with both of yours, and his thumb lifted out to brush lightly over your skin. “You’re the reason I don’t get papercuts and splinters anymore.”

“And you are very welcome for that.” You teased him back, and an easy kind of harmony fell between you both, your presence being more comfortable simply having only just really begun to meet you than he ever had been with someone new. It was strange, to feel so relaxed and at home with you, the way you put his fears at ease and soothed every worry without even trying, making him feel welcome and accepted, like he’d known you for years, not just shy of an hour. “Will you tell me about your pack?”

“You really want to know?” He couldn’t mask his surprise, and you nodded, excitement gleaming in your eyes, and he felt a surge of pride swell up in his system at the idea of getting to boast about his friends completely honestly for the first time in his life. There was no threat, he wasn’t showing off their skills as a way to try and ward off a threat or intimidate someone, but he simply wanted everyone else to be as awed by them as he was, and he didn’t have to hide any supernatural secrets from you. “Shall I start at the beginning?”

“Is it a long story?”

“Very long.” He confirmed, a shy laugh leaving you, before you were shifting again.

“How about I go and make us some fresh tea, then?” You were on your feet, wandering away to the kitchen as soon as he’d offered his affirmations of the idea, and he decided to follow after you, already beginning to blather about Peter Hale.

Hours seemed to pass by, as he spoke to you, two more pots of tea being made, and you’d broken out your snack-store for him, before the two of you had ordered pizza. He’d made himself at home, too, keys and phone sitting abandoned on the table, shoes kicked off on the floor, and feet stretched out along the couch. You were sitting at the opposite end, your legs stretched out in his direction, and one of his hands was sitting on your ankle, fingers drawing patterns on the soft skin there absentmindedly as his other hand was used to gesture wildly around himself.

He told you it all, confessing right from the beginning as he encountered Derek Hale, who liked to lurk in the woods, which had made you crack up as he told you about how the man was basically now the alpha, even if Scott was officially the alpha, and he’d told you about Jackson’s kanima phase, which had made you crack up even more as you claimed he deserved it.

You’d been shocked by his homicidal English teacher, and comforted him when he spilled his heart to you over the nogitsune incident he hated to think about, accepting your hush happily, and revelling in the smell of your hair when you’d pressed in close to him, before retreating to your seat.

He told you all about the benefactor and the dread doctors, and about Allison’s death, which he still blamed himself for when he was on a low day, and you’d used your thumb to clear away the tear that had fallen from his cheek, leaving him blushing and breathless for a second when you’d pressed a light kiss to his cheekbone just after.

You had scooted closer to him and stayed there near the end of his tales, tucked under his arm, playing with his fingers over your shoulders as he rambled about how alone he’d felt while taken by the Wild Hunt, thoughts that he’d always kept locked up in his own mind, never having shared with another person before.

“You really got the short end of the ‘supernatural encounters’ stick then, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart, that is the understatement of the century.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, your feet nudging together on the coffee table, the reindeer themed fluffy socks on your feet playing with the patchy and worn door knitted socks he’d had for years, worn to keep warm during the winter, even though your apartment was nice and toasty, the heaters running and the radiators on, and it was much cosier than his place had ever been.

The Christmas lights on a timer had come on, flickering around the place once the light had started fading, hours flashing by in the blink of an eye, a hazy glow cast over the apartment and creating a whole new range of shadows. “Do you want me to make charms for your friends?”

He watched you for a moment longer, trying to discern whether you were serious, and when he caught no gesture of ill-will, or hesitation, or hidden-motives, he smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Seems like you all need it.”

He shrugged a little, smiling when you rested your forehead against his, fingers playing together still, but feet stilling in their game of footsie. “I can’t believe I waited this long to get to know you. You’re, like, the coolest chick I’ve ever met.”

His eyes fluttered closed, he couldn't’ help it, noses bumping together as you both simply drowned in the moment, in what the moment was leading up to, where you both knew this was going but were revelling in the simple but exhilarating tension that was crackling with electricity in the millimetres of space between your lips and his. You were so close to him that he could feel it more than hear it when you whispered some words he didn’t quite understand, your breath fanning over his face in a dreamy sigh, and it took his hazed brain a second to catch up, before he was pulling back just enough to catch your eyes, one hand coming up to rest over your cheek as he turned to face you fully.

“Oh, my God. Did you just cast a spell?”

“Look up.” He was hesitant to pull back much further, but did so anyway, and he chuckled slightly as he spotted the little green plant beginning to sprout from the ceiling. Vines were still strengthening along the beam, and the leaves were beginning to form right before his eyes, white berries hanging between the green stems, and Stiles shook his head, in complete awe as he looked at it.

You were staring up to, eyes focused on the plant as it bloomed and he assumed you were concentrating on its development, but he couldn't hold back anymore, two hands on your cheeks, pulling your face back to his, and your lips barely parted to speak before his mouth was colliding with your own. A squeak left you, and he wanted to grin at being able illicit such a sound from you, but the temptation to kiss was just enough for him to contain himself. When your mind finally caught up, you were kissing him back just as eagerly, a soft sigh leaving you. “You are fucking adorable.”

The words were whispered into your mouth, he felt you shake with a soft laugh under his hold, before you were holding onto him just as tightly in return. One of your hands wrapped around his wrists, the other sliding over his bicep to his shoulder, before slipping down underneath, and smoothing over the front of his chest. He puffed out a little under your touch, pulling away for a quick breath, groaning slightly at the way your nails dug into his skin as he did, and then, he was diving right back into you.

Your hand slipped down to rest over his heart, the organ thudding under your hand, and he felt like it was going to burst right out of his chest, but as he pressed a little further into you, a shock like an electrocution was racing right through his body, a kind of jolt that was thoroughly exhilarating, and he pulled away, eyes wide as he stared at you.

You looked just as shocked as he expected he did too, his hands dropped down as he watched sparks and electricity crackle between your fingers and his, your brows raising at him. “Thought you said you had no magic left after.. y’know..”

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from it, your fingers weaving with his, a loud snapping sounding as a particularly bright flare went off, and he flinched a little, jaw dropping and a whine slipping from him as you contained it all the sight disappeared before his eyes. “So, there really are sparks flying between us, huh?”

He regretted the words the moment he’d said them, expecting to see on your face the same kind he’d always gotten from Malia or Lydia when he made those kinds of cheesy puns that only he enjoyed, even Scott daring to fix him with a bored or blank look, and Derek would simply glare, but much to his surprise, you laughed. It was fond, with a roll of your eyes and a huff to preempt it, but you laughed nonetheless, and he felt himself somehow manage to brighten even further. “That was cheesy.”

“I know.” He beamed, shifting a little, hands sinking down to your hips to pull you closer to himself as he settled back into the couch, and your hand pressed to the cushions beside his head, the other one coming up to weave into his hair lightly.

“I loved it. I am quite a fan of puns.”

“That’s good, because I usually have a lot of them.” He leaned up, daring himself to be bold enough to close that gap once again, and he could feel your lashes tickling his cheeks as you nuzzled into him a little more. “If I kiss you again, will those sparks happen this time, too?”

“If I stop controlling it, they will.”

“Stop controlling it, sweetheart.” He felt you move to nod your affirmations, but dipped his head in time, proud of his own reflexes as he caught your lips, feeling the hand in his hair tighten, and he was so glad he’d decided to grow it out all those years ago, because right now, he was losing all sense of himself in the way your nails would scratch across his scalp, or the delicious burning that flared over his skin for a split second when you pulled on his hair, before you were rubbing it softly, fingers working in tandem timing with your lips, teasing over his own.

That same feeling took up, a sparking that felt like fireworks, like energy surging through him, escaping at his fingertips in every place that he touched you, one palm smoothing along your back to somewhere that was definitely too lose to be respectable, as the other held onto your cheek still. You were taking control, your tongue darting out to trace over his lower lip, bribing him to part them but he needed no convincing, letting your tongue meet his own only a second after you’d made the request, equally breathy and needy noises escaping you both at the slow and wet drag of the muscles over one another.

His lungs were burning, lips beginning to sting as his assault on your mouth continued, his neck straining to hold this angle, and yet the more you kissed him, the more that the hazy feeling of getting to be with you like this raced through his body was the more he became addicted to needing more, chasing a high that he didn’t even know he wanted until now, like an addict finding his next hit.

You seemed to pick up on it all, as though you’d read all of his thoughts, because the second he’d had the lingering thoughts, you were settling yourself across his lap, a leg on either side of his own as you seated yourself down, and he couldn't help the way his hips bucked up a little to meet you, or the way his hand slid down fully to rest on your ass.

After all, as much as he’d gone through the make him grow up emotionally, physically he was still a horny-teen college boy, and you were one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, sitting half-naked in his lap and sucking on his lower lap while doing something with your tongue that was making him feel like he couldn't even breathe properly for how aroused he was.

Maybe you could feel the growing erection underneath of you, maybe you couldn't, but he’d stopped caring about being embarrassed around you about three hours ago when he’d had to tell you all about the time he’d once dropped a condom in Coach’s class in front of the entire classroom, and you’d laughed so much your face had gone red and you’d hidden it form him by pressing into his shoulder.

You were something he felt like he was dreaming up, like any moment now he’d wake up in a small puddle of his own drool with his face pressed into the desk of his lecture hall, the lights turned out and another note left by his kind professor to get more sleep at home, and to lock up when he left, before you were giggling a little at him, pulling away and stealing a few more pecks as you did, and he wondered if you really could read his mind, heat flushing his cheeks.

“Are you reading my mind or something?”

He felt stupid even as he mumbled te words, especially when it only seemed to heighten your entertainment, but you shook your head. “I can’t read your mind, I can just kinda’ sense your mood, I guess. It’s the connection, you were clearly thinking something funny, and I don’t know what it was, but I got a sudden rush of amusement.”

“That’s pretty fucking incredible.” He whispered, letting you peck his mouth a few more times, simply sitting there with puckered lips as he tried not to smile too much, before he was tucking hair away behind your ears and finally you were opening your eyes, and at this point, he really should learn to stop being surprised by new developments with you. “Holy shit, your eyes are glowing!”

“So are yours.” You winked, the bright purple being a shade that was so captivating and beautiful on you that he couldn’t look away, even when you leaned away from him to grab his phone, raising it up to snap a picture for him, and forcing his gaze down to it. Much like you’d said, his eyes were beginning to hint in with a faint purple, the neon shading beginning to drip into his irises and take over from the usual golden-brown that resided there. “You never made out with another witch before?”

He pinched at your ass for your cheeky comment, taking his phone and throwing it away to the side, grinning when you yelped at his painless attack. “I didn’t even know witches really existed before today. Besides, what makes you think I'm one? I had a spark once, but as I said, that died out. Nothing truly magical.”

“I don’t know, you’re having a pretty strong connection with me right now, aren’t you?” Your arms looped around his neck, snuggling in a little closer to him, and he bit back a groan as you shuffled in his lap. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, you just don’t know how to tap into your magic, you have to believe in it to see it.”

“You really think so?”

He was vulnerable and he knew it showed, he’d gone his entire life being unsure as to where all his energy and twitching came from, as to why he’d always felt a draw to the earth; the preserve and the woods, and justice and balance, and why he’d somehow fit into a supernatural world with far more elegance and ease than he ever had the normal one, and maybe this was the explanation. “I really do, Stiles.”

“Will you teach me?”

“I would love to.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then to the spot below your ear, before flicking his tongue out a little to drag over the sensitive patch that lay there, before moving down your neck. He didn’t want to mark you without your consent, he wasn’t sure what was going to come of all of this and where it would go, but he was more than happy to lick and bite lightly at your skin, finding the sweet spot that made your hips roll down into his own and a sound of need and desperation to leave you that was like music to his ears, before his hips were bucking up to meet you once again.

“Y’know when you said that you could feel what I was feeling?”

“Uh-huh?” You were distracted, your reply seeming somewhat faded and distant, and he chuckled lightly, before making his way back up to your mouth now that you’d both had a chance to catch your breaths once again.

“Does that mean everything?”

“Are you asking if I know just how much you want to fuck me right now? Because yes, I do know.” He choked a little on his breath, your hand in his hair pulling his head back so that you could meet his gaze, your lower lip held between you teeth, flesh going a darker pink, and he longed to be the one biting that lip for you. “Trust me, the sentiment is returned.”

“It is?”

“Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to women being so confident with wanting him, being so unashamed of it, or of even wanting him at all. Most of his hook-ups had been slightly drunk make-outs and sloppy grinding, or booty calls and meetings in closets at parties. He got more action than he ever did in high school, he’d finally grown into his limbs and his looks, but that didn’t take away the surprise that still happened every time someone as pretty as you even offered him the time of day.

“Like, right here? Right now?”

“Been thinking about how much I want to ride you on my couch for like an hour and a half, now.” Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that bubbled up in his throat, lips parting as you ran a finger over his swollen lips, a cheeky glint flashing over purple eyes as you looked at him.

“You might just be perfect for me.”

“I like the sound of that.”

A toothy smile was offered to you, before he was pulling you back in towards him, hands slipping down to lay resting on your thighs as soon as your lips had found his once again. The heat seemed to have passed, and while the kiss was still completely intoxicating, there was something a little more tender about it, too. It wasn’t nearly as rushed and frantic, the sloppy kisses you’d shared as you learned one another’s ticks had passed, and as your lips worked slowly with his own, Stiles found that he much preferred this kind of kiss.

This was the kind of kiss that he could picture himself sharing with you in many settings. A sleepy, early morning kiss, when you were still between the land of consciousness and the realm of unconsciousness. Or, late nights, when he’d fall asleep while studying, and he would let you drag him to his feet and to bed. Or, simply when he would finish a lecture, or get you coffee, or meet you for dinner. The point was, Stiles already knew he wanted to kiss you at all times of the day, and to hold onto you, and to watch you brew little spells at the stove while holding onto you from behind.

Your lips were wet when you pulled away, eyes sparkling as you looked at him, a bright shade of royal purple, like silk and rich violet on flower petals, and you looked utterly ethereal. “Do you have any idea just how beautiful you are?”

“You’re sweet-talking me.” You teased, bumping the tip of your nose against his, and he shook his head.

“No, I’m not, I’m just being honest with you. I’ve been into you for a long time, even if I didn’t quite have my mind in the right place to actually say it.” You huffed out a little laugh, your eyes averting from his own so that you could try and hide your bashful little expression, but he didn’t miss it.

“Well, I’ve been admiring you a little, too. I should’ve had my deliveries sent to you sooner, if I knew it was going to end like this.” As if to punctuate your words, you rolled your hips down into his, reminding him of the solid erection pressing into his jeans, his fingers digging a little firmer into your skin, and he pushed your shirt up higher, the soft cotton of your panties revealed to him.

“These are just fucking sinful. Do you normally wander around your house in underwear and band-tees?” He tugged at it a little, before daring to tuck his hand underneath the fabric, trailing up, and a poorly-concealed groan left him as he found no further obstructions, fingers closing over one of your breasts, squeezing lightly as he palmed at your chest. “Well, clearly not all of your underwear.”

“I tend to, I keep it warm in here, for all the plants.” Your back arched up into his hand, one of your own closing over his outside of your shirt, as your other held onto his shoulder, fingers leaving crescent-moon shaped marks he was sure, and the rocking of your hips into his own only seemed to increase.

“I’d love to see you in one of my flannels sometime, just like this.”

“Give me your shirt and you’ll see it sooner than you think.” You teased, his brows raising, before he was pulling his hands back just long enough to lean into you, stripping the garment off as best as he could, leaving him in a thin black t-shirt as you took the item from him. He wanted to whine out as you stood up, choosing instead to replace the pressure of your core over his with his hand instead, palming at his cock through the thick denim, and you grinned as you watched him, yet he didn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

You stood before him, draping his shirt across his spread knees as he slumped further into the cushions, getting himself comfortable and popping the button on his jeans, swollen lower lip being nibbled as you played with the hem of your shirt. Your hips were swinging to the beat of the song, and then, you raised the garment up and over your head, letting it drop away to the carpet, his jaw dropping as he looked at you.

You picked up his flannel, pulling it up your arms, and leaving it open at the front, just barely covering your tits. You were an angel and also the devil, tempting him to do so many wrong things. Stretching his hands out toward you, he beckoned you back into his lap, an act you were more than happy to take as you bounded over to him, a pep on your few short steps, before you were settling back into his lap.

“Perfect.”

He let his hands find the flaps of the flannel, pulling it open wide enough to be able to admire your tits fully, letting you push your hair back away from your shoulders for his unobstructed view. Sealing one hand around your waist, he dragged you up closer, until you were almost pressed to him fully, before dipping his head down. His tongue dragged over a hardened nipple, taking the taut peak into his mouth and sucking harshly, as your hand wound into his hair. You tugged, roughly, a groan that vibrated along your entire body leaving him and making you shiver, and you made the prettiest little noises above him.

He switches sides, making sure to give the other half of your chest that same kind of attention, leaving wet marks and stinging watches along your skin that would become bright purple marks in the morning to match the colour of your eyes, and he just hoped you kept him around long enough to see them when they did become beautiful and prominent. He wanted to see his good work, he wanted to see the way he got to mark you up and leave his touch all over your body.

“Stiles..”

“I do love how you sound moaning my name, princess, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last when you're making noises like that and grinding yourself all over my cock like this.” You grinned, letting him kiss his way back up your chest and throat until he was taking your lips with his own. Your hands were moving down, tugging at his zipper as far as it would go, hid hips bucking up into his hand as he felt you drag a nail along his covered erection, breathy sounds between you both when you pulled away.

He only had to lift himself up for a moment, before you were tugging at his jeans, helping him to get them just far enough down his thighs for his boxers to be able to follow. His cock was throbbing, painfully hard and desperate for you, leaking precum along his skin, and he gave himself some form of relief. You were watching him, eyes wide as he pumped his length in one hand, the other dipping under your skirt rubbing over your core, and you bundled up your shirt for him.

“Y’know, all those times I thought about us, a quick fuck on your couch wasn’t how I had wanted our first time to be, but then again, I didn’t expect the cute chick across the hall to be a witch, wither, so..”

He used his thumb to drag your panties to the side, your sodden folds revealed to him, and he slipped two fingers into your dripping core with ease. “I’ll let you take it slow next time, I swear, but right now, I’d really like it if you’d fuck me.”

He could only nod, heart skipping a beat at the promise of another time. Your legs shifted, muscles clenching as he forced himself to take his touch away from your core and bringing his fingers up to his mouth, sucking your sweet essence from the thin digits. As you leaned over him, he was sure to line himself up, and then, you were sinking down onto him, your forehead flailing to his as your mouth fell open, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re so fucking tight.” He whispered the words, a little breathless and hanging on the edge of his orgasm already, and you seemed just as close, because as you finally sank all the way down and settled into his lap again, he could feel every pulse within your walls as you hugged around him.

It took him a moment, staving off his climax so that he didn’t come just from getting to feel you like this, and you looped your arms around his neck gently to find your purchase. Your nails were scratching lightly at the hairs at the base of his neck, his flannel once again flapping around you, panties pushed to the side to let him have access to your centre, and it was deliciously filthy.

Once you were settled, you circled your hips, a test movement, pleasure spiking in both of your systems and it felt like the temperature in the room was shooting upwards. Stiles could already feel sweat beginning to bead along his skin in a thin layer, and you pressed yourself in closer to him. Each time you shifted your hips you were moving a little more, every rock of your body into his, you were pulling yourself up just a little higher to be able to drop yourself back down onto his cock, stretching and squeezing around him.

You felt like velvet, slick and warm as you sheathed around him. You were precise and deliberate, and he couldn't help the wonton sounds that were leaving you with every drop down onto his cock, before you were taking him up to see stars every time, leaving the both of you resting in the clouds. Panted breaths, a scream in the back of your throat that tried to break out each time as you gave him broken moans of his name, picking up your pace further and further each time.

Once you were stable above him, you were moving with purpose, fast and quick as you rode him, gaining more confidence each time, and he was gripping you so tightly that there would be fingerprints all over your hips in the morning. He helped you go, lifting you up each time, only to pull you back down into his lap, thrusting up with a weak effort to meet you, but feeling you go wild each time. That same energy was back, crackling with more force, surging through him like nothing he had ever felt.

Stiles was in college, he was away from home and the weight of being the Sheriff’s kid for the first time, and he had experimented. He’d gotten drunk, and high, and hungover, but this was a whole new kind of thrill; it was like lighting up with fireworks and adrenaline all at once, like creating a bond with another person, and a tingling spread throughout his entire body as your magic bonded with his own. He hadn't felt this kind of singing in his blood since the day he’d managed to finish the circle with the mountain ash back when he was only sixteen, or breaking through the wild hunt barrier at almost eighteen.

These kind of thrills were rare for him, but they’d never been this strong, and as the two of you moved as one in the most intimate way that two people could, your mouth coming up to claim his as you silenced yourself and him, growing louder and more desperate as you went, he felt that final high beginning to build.

“‘M so close, honey.” His voice had taken on that same kind of scratchy rasp that he had in the mornings before he even broke into his day, “Oh, God, keep goin’.”

He knew his words were beginning to grow slurred, and he could barely buck his hips up into you. As everything within his body began to light up, he felt like all of his muscles were going lifeless, his body going boneless, because the heat was consuming him. He couldn't hold it back, he’d been waiting for so long to feel you this way, and his lips could barely even move back against your own as he went slack-jawed, exploding within your tight heat.

The send that he was shooting over the edge, you were following right after him, crying out his name into his mouth as you kept going against him, until you couldn't clumping down into his body as you trembled, and Stiles felt as though you’d milked absolutely everything from him that he had to offer. There was a crackling along his skin from everywhere that your fingertips smoothed over, sliding down from his shoulders so that you could press your cheek to the spot instead, fanning breaths rushing over his neck as you tried to catch your breath, racing heart just like his was.

You didn’t even bother to move from him, letting him throb within your walls with each flutter you made and each shift, and if you kept it up, he was sure he’d be ready for a second round, but he wasn’t entirely sure that he had that in him. Resting his head back against the edge of the couch, he let you lift yourself up and off of him finally, your legs shaking as you stood, offering him a weak smile as he took in your through fucked out state, before taking wobbly steps away from him, and disappearing down the hall.

He heard a door close, assuming you’d gone to the bathroom, and he leaned over to the coffee table to snatch up a few tissues, to clean himself up with, before sorting himself out too. He did the bare minimum, not even bothering to do up his jeans once he had them pulled back up, but he stretched out along the length of the couch to lay down, an arm popped under his head, and a little laugh on his lips as he did.

He took a moment to glance around, not missing the way that the plants all seemed to be blooming particularly beautifully, seeming more alive than ever. As he lifted up a hand before his face, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together, a spark travelled between the tips, and he felt a little in awe just at the sight of it.

“It's pretty incredible, right?”

He startled, jumping a little, before turning to look at you and propping himself up on his elbows as you lingered in the doorway. You had changed, your hair pulled back and out of your face, missing a few odd strands and you’d buttoned up his flannel along your body, mismatched and hanging unevenly, but still adorable. You took slower steps over to him, waiting for a second as you stood beside him, before he was lifting his arms and making it clear to you that you could lay with him, a smile gracing both of your faces as you flattened yourself along him, cheek pressed over his chest as his arms wrapped around your waist.

“You like feeling your magic, then?”

He lifted his palm, holding it to yours and admiring the final dying flares he saw, as the energy began to dissipate and absorb into his body and yours fully. “I’m not used to feeling special myself. I’ve always been a behind the scenes, research, kinda’ guy. I’m not used to being one of the main players.”

“Oh, hush. You told me your story, you were most definitely a key player, Stiles.” He shrugged under you, letting you cross your arms over his chest and prop your chin on them.

“Yeah, but I never really felt that way, and now I feel like I have something to offer.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips over his jaw with a sweet kiss, and he felt like he could most definitely get used to this feeling. Can I meet them?”

“My pack?”

You nodded, seeming a little shy now, and joy raced through him at the fact that you saw enough of a future with him to want to meet his friends an get to know them, and to once again be able to be completely open and honest with everyone, never having to hide anything from anyone, and being able to let you fully and wholly into his life. It was a surprise, because the more he’d thought about his future late at night when lying alone in his bed, he was so sure he’d never be able to really settle down, because he could never let someone in on his life in every single way, but with you, that wasn’t a problem.

“I would absolutely love that.”

“Really?” You were studying him carefully, trying to ensure that he was telling the truth, and he gave you the most honey look that he possibly could, before lifting his head to meet your lips as he leaned in.

Soft and delicate, like a kiss that was shared between deep romance and longtime lovers, and he rested a hand on your cheek, holding you to him, and rolling you to the side, to sandwich you between the couch and his body Your thigh came up to rest over his legs, his palm slipping from your face to rest on your leg, drawing patterns on the skin until you pulled away to breathe, lips detaching from his as you whined a little. You stayed close, though, a soft look etched onto your features;

“I just want to meet a few more supernatural people, and get to know others who I don’t have to hide from.”

“Well, you definitely don’t have to hide from them, and you’ll love them, just as much as they’ll love you. We’re a pretty odd group, you’ll fit right in.”

“You’re right about that ‘odd bunch’ thing. I’ve never met a banshee, or a - what did you call it? - werecoyote.” That was an undeniable truth, your head coming back down to rest on his chest as he shrugged, unable to deny that you were right. “Your wolves sound nice, too. All the other wolves I’ve met have been overly territorial and closed off.”

“Well, Derek used to be like that, but we’ve pulled him around a little. He is still broody, though.” You laughed at his joke, a sound that made his heart burst open slightly and bleed with affection, all for you, as you continued to take more and more pieces of his heart with every act, and he was falling in love with you faster than he’d ever known was possible. “Don’t take notice of any of his lurking, by the way, it’s his twisted way of showing concern and care.”

“I’ll remember that, and if I ever catch him hiding behind a tree, I’ll know that it’s real friendship.”

“He does that, I’m serious, don’t underestimate him. I think my dad arrested him for stalking, once.”

“I think your dad would be who I am most scared to meet.” A fond tone in your voice, before he was pressing a kiss to your forehead, humming under his breath.

“He’ll love you the most, don’t worry.”

Silence fell between you both then, and he busied himself with tracing illegible drawings into your skin, simply enjoying feeling so close to you. It was irrationally domestic, and you were the final piece in his college life and college experience that was missing. Despite not being a  wolf, he was unequivocally part of a wolf pack, and being surrounded so closely by such a tight-knit group of friends for those years had made him dependent on company and reliability, and he had been feeling so alone since leaving for college.

Scott had Malia, Lydia had rekindled things with Jordan, and even Derek had been (begrudgingly, to begin) hooked up with a deputy by his father, and they’d been on a few dates.

The last time he’d been home, he’d felt like a fifth, seventh, or was it ninth wheel, when Liam and Hayden were taken into account? He had been feeling awfully lonely lately, and he was glad to finally find someone that fit him perfectly, matching him like a glove.

“When I do introduce you to my friends, my pack, y’know, and my dad..”

You lifted your head, a little crease across your cheek from the fold in his shirt, and he rubbed the spot with his thumb gently, an attempt to remove the mark. “Yeah?”

“What should I introduce you as?”

“A witch.” You deadpanned, and he knew immediately that you’d clearly know exactly what he meant, but were playing with him, and he pouted, fixing you with a mock glare, before you were laughing to yourself over your joke, something so undeniably cute that he couldn't even pretend to be mad about it. “What do you want to introduce me as?”

Nudging your jaw a little with his, he puckered his lips, tempting you down to kiss him, and you were more than happy to press a series of sweet and short kisses to his lips. “I’d really like to formally claim you to be my girlfriend?”

He mumbled the words into your mouth, feeling your lips flick up at the edges in a smile as you gave him a kiss that was a little more firm, a little more loving and powerful, before whispering your reply; “Then we’re on the same page, because I’d like to introduce you to my coven back home as my boyfriend.”

“You have a coven?” He pulled back, a gasp of shock, and you giggled at him.

“That I do. Maybe I should tell you about them?”

“You absolutely should.” He insisted, his craving for knowledge taking over, and he couldn't have been more glad to whatever deity was watching over benevolently that he’d taken the choice to stay the first time knowledge had been offered, because it had led him to where he was now.

“It might take all night, maybe you should go and get a change of clothes. Get comfortable.”

“Is that an invitation to stay the night?” You only nodded, letting him roll you back over onto your back as he kissed at your neck. “I’ll buy you take out if you cuddle me later?”

“Cuddling and dinner? Glad I get to call you my boyfriend, now.”

“Not nearly as glad as I am to call you my girlfriend. My little witch.” His lips sealed over yours, silencing your laughs against his mouth as you teased him for the nickname, and he pinched a little at your sides. The mistletoe overhead grew a little more, a few of the berries dropping away and bouncing off of his back as the plant became bolder, just like the rest, that energy beginning to grow once again, as you got lost in each other’s touch.

[mandospace]

Use Me As You Wish (Din Djarin x Reader Smut)

Summary: Teasing Din is your favorite past time.

Word Count: 2,223

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, do not interact! Hand jobs, oral (m receiving), heavy petting

A/N: Sorry if this is ass, but I wanted to put something out for you all before finals week! Hope you enjoy :)

MASTERLIST

You were in for it. Big time.

The entire day you had teased Din. Brushing up against him in close quarters. Purposefully dropping things in front of him so you would have to bend over to get them, displaying your ass. Teasing him under the table, hand rubbing higher and higher up his thigh as he waits for Karga in the dusty cantina on Nevarro.

“Stop,” Din growled, grabbing your wrist. The two of you were waiting in the booth nestled in the corner of the dark cantina for Karga to show up with more pucks. You had been waiting for half an hour already, and were getting bored. So you decided to play your favorite game: mess with Din.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you swirled the drink held in your other hand before bringing it to your lips. Din scoffed under his beskar helmet.

“Don’t play dumb, mesh’la,” he picked up your hand from his thigh and placed it to your side. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“Was I doing something wrong?” you batted your eyelashes at him and returned your hand to his thigh. Din’s breath hitched in his throat and you smiled.

“Don’t.” It was so easy to turn your battle-hardened bounty hunter into mush. All you had to do was give him a small smile and say the right things.

“It’s just,” you sighed, moving your hand farther up his thigh. Karga had entered the cantina, finally showing, and began to make his way towards the booth. “I don’t want to make you mad or upset.” Your hand trailed up his leg, inching closer with each word. “I want to make you happy. Will you let me make you happy?”

Your hand had reached its destination and you smirked when you felt how hard he was already.

“N-not now,” he groaned. Karga was only a few tables away. It would be so easy to just glance under the table and see you palming him.

“Let me make you feel good,” you smiled at Karga, waving at him with your free hand. He was only 10 feet away now.

“Mesh—” Din’s words were cut off by a choke when you squeezed his throbbing member just as Karga had made it to the table.

“Mando!” Karga’s voice carried throughout the entire cantina. “My favorite bounty hunter!”

Karga slid into the other side of the booth, setting down his belongings. “And look who came to see me! (Y/N), always a pleasure to see your beautiful face.”

“Likewise, Karga,” you smiled at the man all the while tracing the outline of Din’s cock through his pants. Din’s hand was curled into a fist above the table and his entire frame was tense. Karga took notice of the tense bounty hunter in front of him.

“Kriff, Mando. You need to learn how to relax or else you’ll be grayer than me. Assuming, y’know, you actually have hair.”

The voice modulator in his helmet had barely picked up the sound of him grinding his teeth.

“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” you patted his beskar-covered chest with your free hand and wiggled your hand under his trousers at the same time.

“See? You should listen to your girl.”

“Yes, you should listen to your girl,” your grin was brighter than the star the planet rotated around when you swiped your thumb over Din’s leaking head.

Din couldn’t help his knee from jerking up into the table when you did that.

“Whoah!” Karga scrambled for the pucks that rolled on the table top. He caught one just before it rolled onto the floor, where he surely would have seen your hand down Din’s pants when he bent over to pick it up.

Din gripped your wrist under the table, trying to stop your motions. You just continued your ministrations, loving how hot and hard he felt under your touch.

“Let’s just get this over with, I have to do a few things before we take off,” Din’s voice was strained as he tried to keep back his moans. “You have the three pucks for me?”

“Bah, you’re no fun,” Karga huffed and stacked the pucks in front of him. Before he could say another word, Din scooped up the pucks and removed your hand from his pants in one quick movement.

“I’ll be back with the quarries in three weeks,” Din stood and grabbed your hand, pulling you behind him.

“Bye Karga!” you waved before Din towed you out of the cantina.

As soon as the two of you were out and standing in the sunlight, Din picked you up and pushed off from the ground as his jet pack took flight. His grip on you was tight and you couldn’t help the smirk that formed on your lips. You had just played your favorite game and were victorious.

Now was the time to claim your prize.

Din didn’t bother to set you down when the two of you landed outside of the Crest. Instead, he just stomped his way into his ship. As the ramp came to a close, Din finally set you down on your feet only to push you backwards and crowd you against the nearest wall.

“What did you think you were doing, mesh’la?” his voice was deep and sultry, sending waves of heat down your spine with every word. His gloved hand cupped your jaw, tilting your head back so he could see your eyes twinkle in the low light of the hull. After a moment of silence, he squeezed your jaw, prompting your response.

“I was just trying to make you happy, Din.”

“Oh really?” he hummed, tracing his finger down the curve of your throat. “Because I think you were trying to distract me with all of your teasing.”

“Didn’t I make you feel good?” you ran your hand up his beskar-plated chest, coming to rest over the spot where his heart beats.

“That’s besides the point, sweet girl,” his finger continued their path down your torso, pausing to cup your breast and feel its weight in his palm. He gave it a little squeeze while his thumb brushed over your clothed nipple; eliciting a soft gasp from you. “Were you trying to get caught? Putting me in a compromising position while I was doing business with Karga?”

“No, I-“

“Because if I didn’t restrain myself, that whole cantina would have known what you were doing to me. Kriff, I was this close to taking you right then and there,” his hand gripped your waist, tugging you into his chest. He was a solid wall of beskar, but his armor wasn’t the only thing that was hard.

“Do you feel what you do to me, sweet girl?” he ground his hips into yours, pressing his hard cock against your stomach. “It would have been so easy for me to have just taken what I wanted in front of everyone there. Show everyone in that shitty cantina who you belonged to.”

His words were turning you on immensely. You couldn’t help but whimper out his name as you felt your body temperature rising.

“Oh? Is that what you wanted, sweet girl?” the smirk was evident in his voice.

The hand on your hip traveled further down your body, sneaking under the band of your trousers and into your panties. Your breath caught in your throat when his leather-clad fingers brushed through your wet folds.

“It is what you wanted,” Din crowded up against you even more and swirled his finger around the tight bundle of nerves. “Look at you, practically soaking wet for me.”

You couldn’t hold back your whimpers any longer.

“Din,” you gasped, hand gripping the beskar pauldron he wore. “Please.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it, mesh’la,” he slipped his hand from your pants, leaving you hanging. Your chest was heaving rapidly as you tried to catch your breath, only to be stolen moments later.

You could see your arousal staining Din’s leather gloves while he brought his fingers to the edge of his helmet. He tilted the helmet back, revealing only a sliver of his chin whilst he slipped his fingers underneath. The groan that Din made as he tasted your arousal was pure filth and filled with lust. You wanted to hear that sound for the rest of your days.

“Din, please, I’m sorry,” your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist just as he pulled them from under his helmet. You brought his hand to your cheek and pressed the warm leather against your soft skin. Turning, you placed sweet kisses to the palm of his hand. “Let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good.”

Din stood there, silent for a few moments until he finally nodded his head. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your lips as you sank to your knees.

His member was as hard as beskar and aching to be released from its confines. Your fingers fumbled with Din’s belt, trying to get his pants off as fast as you could. When the material finally gave way, his cock sprung free and the sight of it made your mouth water. It was long and hard, tip red and leaking with pre-cum. You kept your touch light as you traced up his cock, thumb circling his leaking head.

“No more teasing, mesh’la,” Din groaned in frustration. His helmet was tilted down to you as he watched you slowly stroke up and down his cock before you finally took his head in your mouth. He let out a hiss at the feeling of your warm mouth around him. You felt too good, too soft.

Din was big, bigger than most men you’ve been with in the past. But with every time you took him in your mouth, you got better at holding back your gag reflex as you let him slide down your throat. Din’s hips stuttered at the feeling of his head hitting the back of your throat, and the growl that tore through his chest was almost animalistic.

“Kriff, you feel so fucking good, sweet girl,” he panted when you pulled off him. You loved when Din praised you, it made you want to work harder for him.

His pants and moans grew steadier as you bobbed your head, taking him into your mouth at a fast pace. With every down stroke you flattened your tongue on the underside of him, and with every up stroke you hollowed your cheeks and sucked hard. Din’s hand was pressed flat against the wall of his ship, steadying him as he tried not to collapse from the pleasure you were giving him. On one particularly harsh suck, you held the head of him in your mouth and swirled your tongue around his tip while Din let out a roar of pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” his hand came to rest at the back of your head, fingers twisting in your hair. “I-I’m not gonna last. P-pull off me before I co-ome in your mouth.”

Pulling off him, you continued to stroke his cock and shook your head. “No, Din. This is all about you. I want you to come down my throat. Use me as you wish.”

“F-fuck!” he growled, pulling you back onto his cock. The pace you set was fast and his grip in your hair tightened. Your fingers gripped his hips, pulling him into you to let him know it was okay to take over. Your nose nestled into the curly sprinkling of hair at the base of his cock and his hips started thrusting.

“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck!” Din shouted when he came down your throat, pumping his hot seed into your mouth. It began to spill past your lips and dribble down your chin, but you couldn’t care less. You loved taking care of your bounty hunter.

“Mesh’la... sweet, sweet girl,” Din mumbled in a lust-filled haze. His hand cradled your cheek, thumb brushing over your cheekbone while you held him in your mouth. Even though you couldn’t see past his helmet, the look Din gave you was filled with unending adoration.

Eventually Din pulled his soft cock from your mouth and pulled you to your feet. Your legs were wobbly from kneeling for so long, but you couldn’t care less when Din wrapped one strong arm around your waist and pulled you to him. His other hand remained on your face, lovingly caressing your cheek. His thumb dipped down to catch some of his cum that was dribbling from the corner of your mouth before pushing it past your lips and into your mouth. You lightly sucked on his thumb, humming around the digit while you licked it clean. He pulled his thumb away with a soft ‘pop.’

“Mesh’la,” Din sighed, dropping his forehead to yours in a Keldabe kiss. “You’re too good for me.”

“I know,” you teased and wrapped your arms around his neck. Before he pulled away, you quickly reached up and pressed a small kiss to his helmet, right where his lips were hidden underneath.

“Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

“Later,” you placed another peck to his helmet before you pulled away. “We’ve got to get the ship on course for our next bounty.”

“Later it is, mesh’la.”

~~~~~~~

Mando’a Translations:

Mesh’la = beautiful

[quicksilverrwrites]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: it’s your first date with peter maximoff, and the tension between the two of you has been building for weeks. you share a passion like no other, and there's only one place this date can go: the dark back alley of the arcade, a place where no soul dare to go lest they bare the damned title of 'staff'. or quicksilver and scribe, i guess. you pick. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, sexual innuendos, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader (sorry americans <3), make out scene and sexual attraction 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: the character that features as y/n in my fics is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

Your date with Peter comes around the corner faster than you thought it would considering you’re not exactly the typical ‘student’ at Xavier’s School.

You’d thought it would take forever for the week to pass: typically, you spend your time waiting for your friend group to get out of lessons. You’re older, having graduated school when you lived in the United Kingdom, so the only lessons you attend are that of Power Efficiency, Mutant Physiology and Ethics, the latter two being optional and studied merely out of interest. The rest of your schedule consists of a lot of free time. You don’t work—with all the money you have, why would you? Uncle Charles keeps nagging you to do something with your time, something productive, but after what you went through in England with your father…

Making friends here was difficult enough. Dealing with your powers in a new situation—coming to this school—was enough. You’re not exactly an extrovert, either, which is why you’re so surprised that you and Peter click so well.

He’s eccentric and annoying and perfect. Okay, perhaps not perfect in a literal sense, but to you he is. Sure, his leather jacket kind of smells from age and sometimes he talks so fast that you find yourself struggling to keep up, but you find it endearing. And oh, those eyes—you could watch how they light up when he’s super excited about something forever, you think.

He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a while. You wonder if Charles knew what he was doing when he made Peter your buddy upon your arrival at this institute, but in reality, you know it’s because you’re both the oldest students—almost-students?—at this school. Besides, Charles has seen the two of you work together as a chaotic duo, and you’ve heard the sighs and mutterings of the man when he’s been most exasperated because of the both of you. Why, you think, grinning at your reflection in the mirror, would he ever put himself through that chaos if he could avoid it? The first prank you articulated together was the beginning of many, and you’ve practically been inseparable since you first arrived here.

First it was friendship. Then… yeah, it didn’t take much at all to blossom into something more.

You look good, you think, smoothing down Peter’s Rush tee as it hangs oversized on your body. You look really good. Your style is what would be expected of Charles’ niece even despite the fact that you’ve only ever met him a few times in your life: classy, 10% preppy, academic to a fault. You typically match your clothes to the colour of your powers: blue, but azure in particular. Sometimes pastel blue. You’re particular like that. But tonight you’ve opted for something different. Something a little more… Peter.

Your hair falls naturally past your shoulders, and the cool sleeves of a black leather jacket—your father’s leather jacket, the only leather jacket you own—hang from your shoulders while the jacket itself stops at your thighs. It's too big for you. You’ve paired a black skirt with the shirt, but it’s free flowing and a soft material that practically blends in with Peter’s top. Your boots are chunky platforms, black, and this is the darkest your outfit has been in a while.

It still feels… you, though. It feels right. Maybe because Peter feels right, and you stole this tee from him after you stayed over that night in his basement when it was pouring with rain. You both knew you could’ve opened up a portal to get back to your dorm, but neither of you wanted that.

You both want this, though. You both want each other.

The very acknowledgement of that fact forces you to take a steadying breath in, but the sound of a knock at your door makes your breath stammer. You look at the clock frantically. Is he here already? You both agreed on seven thirty, and it’s only seven. You had a schedule. Arcade, dinner, and whatever was left for after. Maybe a kiss if you work up the courage. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought. But—

“Ah—hello?” A familiar voice sounds from the door. You breathe a sigh of relief: Kurt. “I came to see if you needed help with anyzi—”

You cross the room to the door and open it before Kurt can finish his sentence.

Kurt grins. As usual it’s a sheepish grin, but there is excitement in his eyes.

“Excited?” Kurt asks. “I vould be if I vere going on a date with ze magnificent Quicksilver.”

You grin at him and roll your eyes, ushering him in the room before you close the door behind you. “Don’t say that in the hallway!” You scold him, not entirely serious. “Anyone could be listening.”

Kurt raises his eyebrows. “Could it be that you are embarrassed?”

Your eyes widen, brows rising too. “No! It’s just—it’s nice now that things between us are private. And… I want to take things slow. I’ve been on dates before, and when you tell people about it it’s always the same thing: when are you going to do this? When are you going to do that? I don’t want to be pressured. And explaining my reasoning to want to take things slow is almost as tiring as actually working myself up into confidence so that I’m not nervous the entire time—”

“You definitely seem nervous.”

You scowl at your friend. “I am not nervous.”

“Your cheeks are red.”

At that, you know your face is starting to flush as red as a tomato. “You are insufferable sometimes.”

Kurt grins. “A few weeks ago, I vould have been hurt to hear you say this.”

You scoff, batting him playfully on the arm. “Are you going to walk me down to the common room or not?”

Kurt’s face takes on an air of confusion. “Ze common room? Why there?”

You shrug softly. “Peter is meeting me there.”

Kurt’s eyes light up with amusement. “Ah,” he responds, and you know by the exaggerated upwards tilt of his head that the next words out of his mouth are going to be sarcastic. “Very discreet, yes. I bet he will bring flowers.”

You scoff once more, parting your lips in playful annoyance as you turn to leave the room, but Kurt appears in front of you before your hand reaches the doorknob. He opens the door, extends his hand to you when his back is pressed against it, and the bow he delivers is nothing but formal. Gentlemanly. He probably learned it in the circus. You give him a teasingly formal nod as you accept his fingers in your own.

The door closes behind you, locks with a wave of your hand, and with a deep breath, the two of you venture down the halls of the manor.

***

You hear the sounds of people cursing at Peter before you actually see Peter.

You and Kurt turn to look at the double doors which lead into the common room at the same time, but Peter comes to a speedy stop in front of the both of you before you can even track his movements… and Peter’s eyes glaze over your appearance, your outfit, as his face pales.

You smirk at the sight of it. You know he likes it. Likes seeing you in his clothes. He looked at you the same way when you first walked out of the bathroom attached to the basement in his tee and grey shorts after that night in the rain. He had slept on the sofa then, had given you his bed, but he’d mentioned to you a couple of days after that his sheets still smelled like a mix of him and you.

You knew then that he couldn’t get the image of you wearing his clothes out of his head.

His outfit isn’t a change from what he usually wears, but he still looks amazing. Hot. The sight of him takes your breath away every time you see him. Silver-and-black jacket, white tee with a band insignia on it, and leather pants with his silver shoes. You can’t forget the goggles on his head, either. But—wait, no, there is something different. A sort of smell.

“What are you wearing?” You ask, the end of your sentence tinged with laughter.

Peter glances down at his outfit. “What?” He asks, confusion—and the slightest bit of worry?—in his gaze. “What's wrong with this?”

“No, silly,” you laugh, “your aftershave. What is it?”

It’s the very definition of seventies musk. It’s musky, leathery, and there’s the faintest smell of whiskey. He’s put way too much on, but your mother always used to complain about how much perfume you put on, too. You’re wearing it now: it’s sweet with the air of something more expensive. Valentino.

When you asked the lady in the store to let you try the ones which smelled sweet like vanilla, this was the first one she showed you. Out of the eight you had the choice of, you were sold on the very first one. You know that the best way to get a guy to fall for you is to smell sweet like candy—it reminds them of their childhood. Or in Peter’s case, you guess it might just remind him of twinkies. You know he loves those.

Peter’s cheeks flush red, and he lowers his head as he laughs. “Oh, man. My mom was right. I really stink, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh: a genuine laugh, teeth in your smile and all. You stand from the sofa you were sitting on with Kurt, and you realise only then that he’s already disappeared. You feel a twinge of guilt for not noticing earlier, but you forgive yourself for that: it is your date night, and Kurt is forever polite.

“You smell great, Peter,�� you say, and it’s not entirely a lie. He doesn’t smell bad — it’s better than the leather jacket smell. “And I’m excited for our,” you glance around, whispering, “date.”

Peter’s eyes light up at that. “Right. Date. You mind if I—?”

He gestures to your neck. Whiplash. Right. You shake your head. “Just don’t mess up my hair.”

He blinks at you. “Do you realise how much of a challenge that is?”

Your smile is sickly sweet and riddled with sarcasm. “You’ll figure it out.”

His expression goes slack. He likes it when you do that; when you’re mean to him. You’re a lovely person typically—you reached the lucky end of the trauma spectrum, the opposite of which being the angry side which could’ve made you an arse—but it’s so easy to tease Peter. You like the power in being able to wrap him around your finger. You’ve never had this power over any man before, and after feeling powerless for so long, it's thrilling.

Peter clears his throat, steps towards you, and you swear he’s trying to use the lightest touch possible as he steadies your neck and places a shaky hand on your waist—

And then you’re off.

The world is barely more than a blur. You can’t keep up. Just as you think you’ve gotten used to it, Peter turns a corner—or at least you think that's what happens, because that’s how you would describe the sensation of being almost jolted to the side. And just when you think you can’t take any more, he stops. You’re in the mall, right outside the blue-walled and darkly lit arcade.

Peter’s hands move gently from your body and you lean your hands against your thighs to try to stop the world from spinning. You’ve gotten used to the nauseating feeling this sort of travel gives you now, but you’re not used to the dizziness.

“You okay?” Peter asks, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that he’s assessing you for any potential damage. His hand hovers over your back as if he’s afraid to overstep his bounds, but you would lean into his touch any day.

“Yeah,” you breathe, slowly easing upwards. “I’m good.”

Peter glances over your face in another silent check before he nods. “You ready to get your ass kicked?”

You gape at him. Yeah, that sarcastic comment has knocked the dizziness right out of you. “Oh, you’re on.”

You’re less confident than you seem, but you don’t think Peter picks up on it as he grins and bouncily makes his way into the Arcade. You follow him, shoulder brushing against his as you catch up to his gait, because luckily you both walk fast. He turns to look at you and smiles, softer this time, and you almost get caught up in the softness of his eyes before your heart stammers, your throat closes up, and—

Oh, god. You’re not good with this. The romance. It makes you tense and nervous.

You turn away from him, hands wrapping around the controls of the nearest arcade game. “I call shotgun.”

Peter laughs and comes to a stop next to you. “I know you’re British and that makes you, like, socially awkward, but that only applies to cars.”

You nudge him in the side—hard, but not hard enough to really do damage. He hisses in annoyance, muttering jeez, lady, under his breath. You ask, “Are you really going to deny me my request on our date?”

Peter grins at you, fingers clenching around the neighbouring controls. “Depends. What do I get out of it?”

You smirk at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. “A kiss or two at the end of this, perhaps.”

You watch Peter’s adam’s apple bob. “Per—perhaps?”

You grin. “Depends how you behave.”

You don’t need to read thoughts like your uncle to know that Peter has to be telling himself to breathe. Because it seems like an awful lot of effort for him to successfully inhale and exhale, and he doesn’t say anything before he slams a coin—a quarter? you don’t understand American money—into the machine and the BEGIN GAME screen buzzes to life.

It’s pretty hard for you to catch your breath as you both play in silence, too.

Eventually, conversation picks back up again. A sarcastic comment. The occasional compliment. Peter’s good at these games, but so are you. Arcade stand after arcade stand, his teasing remarks make your heart flutter… as well as something deeper within you, too. You’ve never felt attraction like this before, and truthfully, it’s driving you wild.

“Dad wasn’t around much back home,” you reveal, your eyes glued to the avatar on the screen as it darts around, “so I had a lot of time to kill. The arcade became my home. So yeah, it’s safe to say I can easily kick your arse.”

“Arse,” he teases, mimicking the way you speak. “Trying to let me let you win with a sob story, Xavier? Nah, not going to work.”

You gape at him, taking your eyes off the screen for a mere second, but Peter takes the opportunity to kill your avatar for good. With mock outrage, you quip, “I was not trying to do that!”

He grins at you, his eyes glowing purple and red in the light of your dying avatar. “Ah,” he whispers, “victory tastes sweet.”

You press your lips together in defeat, and then you sigh as you take your hand in his. “Come on. I want a slushie.”

Peter lets you drag him away, and the two of you settle down at the food stand in the arcade as the lights around you buzz blue and purple.

You like the lighting in here, you think, as you step up to the worker. “Two slushies, please,” you tell him, smiling politely. “One red and blue for me, and Peter—?”

“All of them,” he says, nodding towards the flavours.

You part your lips in surprise. All of them? There are about eight flavours up on that display, and you know it’s all going to melt into a mess of slush that barely tastes like anything other than sugar. But the worker has obviously been asked for worse, because he just shrugs and gets to work. One pump, two pumps, three pumps—he goes through them all with the finesse of someone who has worked at a place like this for far too long, and when he hands you your simple two-flavoured slushie in comparison to Peter's complex one, you feel like a bit of a slushie fraud.

You go to reach into your pocket to grab your card, but Peter pays in cash before you can get it out. The cashier gives him a dollar and seventy two cents change, and your date nods in thanks to the cashier before he turns to you with a grin that’s more genuine than cheeky. “My treat.”

You lower your gaze to hide how wide your smile is as you laugh. “Thanks, Peter.”

He nods, and the two of you stand there awkwardly for a second, you sucking innocently on your straw as he stares at you, before he looks at the table and chairs nearby. He clears his throat. “Wanna sit?”

You shrug politely and he pulls out a chair for you. Gentleman. Did his mother give him a run-down of what to do and what not to do before he came here? Probably. You smile at him, your insides warming as you sit down in your seat. This slushie is good, you think, slurping it up through the straw as Peter takes a seat opposite you.

He takes a sip of his drink before he asks, “So the thing about your dad. I know it’s a sore subject considering…” He raises his brows, and you know he means the reason you came here. “But do you mind if I—?”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. You have too much slushie in your mouth, though, so your words are slurred and you smile bashfully as you cover your lips. Sorry, your look says, but he just grins at you.

Peter forces himself to look away, to turn serious again, as he scratches at a loose bit of film on the table. “Why wasn’t he around? Like, the deadbeat dad kind of thing, or…?”

You shake your head. This time, when you speak, you’ve cleared the slushie from your mouth. Your voice is a bit hoarse from the cold as you respond, “No. He worked a lot. He was either in Germany or the Middle East or—somewhere. Mom has a temper, so I found the arcade was a better place to be than home. It’s easy to lose yourself in the games here.”

Peter nods slowly, his head tilting up in a way that indicates thoughtfulness. It’s nice that he’s memorising your words. Nice that he actually cares. That means more to you than anything. “Well, that makes two of us. Absent fathers, I mean, and moms…?”

You grin at him. He's talked about his father before, but always in vague detail. You respond, “Almost-there moms. Just emotionally absent, at least for me. Maybe stunted is the right word.”

Peter lets out a sound between a noise like phew and a laugh. “Harsh, Y/N. No sugarcoating it there.”

You shrug softly, lowering your gaze to your drink. “Sometimes I wonder if…”

Your sentence trails off, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Peter tilt his head. But he doesn’t say anything. Just lets you take your time as he continues picking at the table.

You force a breath. “Sometimes I wonder if what happened… happened for the best. Between the three of us, nobody was happy. But then I think of what I did to him and it’s just—”

“Hey,” Peter says, and across the table, his hand reaches out to splay across yours. “For people like us—mutants,” he says, his tone lowering at the end of his sentence, “stuff like this is inevitable. But, uh… Charles has kinda helped me see that it’s the first step towards controlling this sort of thing. The first step to doing something better. And hell, Y/N, you’re already, like, rockin’. So you only have further to go.”

Your brows furrow in surprise at his words, your eyes turning doe-like at his reassurances. “You don’t think I’ve already hit rock bottom?”

Peter laughs. “You’ve got too much money for that. I've seen you blow two-fifty on curtains. Still don't know how I watched you do it."

You let out a laugh, and that’s when you properly acknowledge the skin to skin contact. His touch makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Your shoulders roll back as your thumb brushes against his knuckle, and Peter’s eyes dart down to your fingers before he looks right back up at you. He looks nervous, like his heart is thudding just as hard as yours.

“I like this,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Peter lets out a huff of laughter, though from the sound of it, it’s an attempt to hide his nerves. “It’s only a slushie, Xavier."

Your laughter mimics his own, and you press your lips together as your eyes dart between his eyes and lips. You want to kiss him. You’ve never wanted to kiss somebody more. It’s like you could push him up against the wall and kiss him here and now without caring what anybody thinks, and you’ve never had that feeling before.

Peter’s throat bobs again. He’s staring at you in the same way, and you can feel the tension between the two of you as your chest tightens. But you can’t kiss here—not with the table between you, not when one of you will probably spill a slush puppy or both of them, or—

“Another game?” Peter says, his voice hoarse.

You blink the lust out of your eyes. Another game. Yeah—another game, and your slush puppy will melt between and it’ll be easier to drink, and then—

And then you can both get out of here.

You’ve never wanted to leave an arcade more.

The tension cools down a little as you play more games, but it rises as soon as you make a comment about his frantic button mashing movements; something like—

“I hope that’s not the technique you use in bed,” you tease.

Peter chokes, and needless to say, you win that game.

You keep playing until your slushies are finished. Peter finishes his before you, but he lets you have a sip before in order to try it. It’s just as you expected—a sugary mess with the strongest flavour being lime. It’s disgusting, but Peter merely grins at the sight of your face as you grimace at its sour taste.

You’re well aware of the way his gaze rakes up and down your body as you try to finish the rest of your slushie as fast as you can. You’re lingering now; the two of you want to get out of here, dinner be damned. His gaze hugs the curve of your body and lingers on your bare legs, your skin smooth and shaven, the boots you wear only elongating them—

“You look great, by the way,” Peter comments.

You look up at him while still sipping from that straw, and apparently the motion and the eye contact is too much for him. He looks away and mutters something under his breath, something you can’t hear over the beeping of the games and the music playing over the sound effects.

You slam the slushie cup down on the table next to you both with an air of achievement. “What?” You say almost teasingly. You know you’re driving him insane, and even though you’re hardly doing anything, this has been building up for weeks.

“Nothing,” Peter says.

Before you know it, his hand is at your neck and you’re in a different spot entirely.

It’s a short journey this time so you’re not dizzy. You’re still in the arcade, surrounded by the same blue walls and purple-hued lighting. But this area is darker and tucked away, and there’s a door nearby. Probably a staff entrance. This is somewhere you shouldn’t be, but for once, you’re not afraid of breaking the rules.

“The cups,” you comment teasingly. “We should clean them up.”

Peter lets out a breath. “Y/N,” he says, “I—"

“Kiss me,” you blurt out. “Please.”

Peter wastes no time in fulfilling your request.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, lips pressed against yours as his fingers rest at your neck. Innocent, sweet, and yet filled with a sort of passion that sets your lungs and chest ablaze. You can’t help the noise of content that slips from your lips as he backs you up against the wall, and you can’t help but think that this is so unlike him, but—no. No, this is what he’s been keeping buried down for weeks. It's the same for you, too. This is what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

This is only half of what he’s wanted to do to you for a while now.

You gasp as his tongue slips out against yours, and your own darts out in response to the sensation. You press your body flush into his, the both of you heated and warm from the feel of one another, and your jacket is quickly getting too hot to keep on any longer. It’s cool in here with the air conditioning, but even so the two of you are ablaze and alive and—

“Y/N” Peter whispers against your lips, his nose brushing against yours as he pants for breath, “d’you think we could leave dinner for tonight?”

Your body talks for you before your mind can register what he says. "Yes," you breathe, and then you pull him back to you.

His lips are on yours and there is nothing either of you need to say as his fingers roam down your shoulders, your arms, moving to your waist. He avoids your breasts and you’re grateful for that; despite how much your body might burn for him, you know that would make you feel like an object, like he only wants you for sex—like your mother has told you countless times before.

But as you and Peter kiss in the belly of that arcade, you think you might have found the one. The first person you can finally trust.

It might be the first date and you might want to take things slow, but this feels too good to pass up. Too good to lose. And because of that, you don't plan on letting him go—

Not unless he wants you gone first.

Not until a member of staff kicks you guys out, at least.

[glimmerglanger]

getting up (while you’re down)

So, ah, I was inspired to write some goofy getting-together Codywan. Set during the war. Full of misadventures surrounding Obi-Wan’s clothing (or the removal of it, anyway). Dedicated to @mocha-bear, as an apology aha :D. Ended up NOT actually having any spiciness, just a fade to black because that felt fitting with the tone.

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

The galaxy was punishing Cody.

He didn’t know what he’d done, but, then again, in his experience the galaxy didn’t need a reason to exact punishment on someone. Things just happened, and then people had to deal with them.

Currently, he was having to deal with the fact that Obi-Wan had decided to wear his kriffing meditation leggings onto the bridge. He’d said something about Grievous ruining his last pair of slacks but, honestly, Cody hadn’t been listening.

His boots didn’t look quite right over the leggings, but, to be fair, Cody wasn’t really paying much attention to the boots, either. He’d caught looks at Obi-Wan’s legs before, obviously, glimpses when his trousers tore. And he’d gotten used to seeing those legs wrapped up in leggings, when Obi-Wan meditated and sometimes when he sparred.

But Cody had learned how to brace for those times.

He wasn’t prepared to have to focus on the Senate’s new orders while Obi-Wan was standing right there in leggings. 

It was making it hard to concentrate. He knew Obi-Wan had been forced to repeat a question twice, because focusing on answering him meant focusing on the state of his dress and that meant focusing on strong thighs and--

“Commander?” Obi-Wan asked, frowning over at him, head cocking to the side. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yes,” Cody lied, because he felt entirely too itchy under his skin and, also, he wasn’t just wearing leggings. The Kaminoans hadn’t been exactly generous with space, when designing their armor. Things were starting to get uncomfortably snug. They’d pinch, if his condition continued to...progress.

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked, and that was when Tektek came into the room carrying caff for everyone, did a double-take in Obi-Wan’s direction, and the universe decided to punish Cody a little bit more.

#

“I’m really sorry, General,” Tektek said, after he tripped on nothing and spilled caff all down Obi-Wan’s back. “Just--I don’t know what happened.” Cody had a pretty good idea what had happened. He’d been in prime position to see Tektek’s head dip down as he took a good look. 

“It’s quite alright,” Obi-Wan said, for the second time, as though he hadn’t just had scalding hot liquid poured down his back. “These things happen,” he added, which was fine and true, except these things happening had him peeling off his outer tunic and grumbling, “Oh, it went all the way through. Would you hold this?”

Cody took his tunic automatically, consumed with the awareness that his General was, in fact, taking his clothes off on the bridge. Which was not… entirely without precedent. The Jedi, for the most part, didn’t seem to have many qualms about nudity or their bodies.

Which was perfectly alright, of course, except that it meant Cody had missed another question, because he’d been busy watching Obi-Wan pull at his thinner undertunic, twisting to look at his back. “What?” Cody asked, feeling like he’d perhaps taken a stunner to the back of the head.

“I said,” Obi-Wan said, looking back at him and arching an eyebrow, “do you think you can finish this up while I go and change?”

“Of course.” Cody wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to handle. His gut said he ought to be handling Obi-Wan, standing there with his thin tunic half-plastered to him, and his leggings and--

“Thank you, Commander,” Obi-Wan said, turning to go, and oh, the caff really had gone all the way through, painting the undertunic to his back, the dip of his spine and the generous, lovely swell of--

Crys walked into a console on the other side of the bridge, swore, and made a pained sound. “Everything alright?” Obi-Wan asked, hesitating, just standing there, and Cody really, truly needed to get his eye-line anywhere other than where it was, but, well.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t know about Obi-Wan’s….physical attributes. It was just that most of the time they were covered up with layers upon layers. There was a physical barrier there to remind him that the things he thought about in his quarters weren’t really...well. Appropriate.

His General had a dimple, apparently, right on the side of his--

“Fine, sir,” Crys wheezed out, waving a hand a little. “Don’t know what came over me.”

“I could help you down to the medbay,” Obi-Wan said, changing directions, concern written all over his expression. “We could have Bones take a look at you.”

“Not necessary,” Crys said, sounding agonized. Cody could imagine why. He wouldn’t want Bones assessing his current condition, either.

“If you’re sure,” Obi-Wan said, with another little frown, and Cody got a clear look at him from the front, and Prime’s wrinkled ass, but that was really no better, no better at all, but at least he was leaving to put some clothes on. 

And that was when the galaxy decided to kick Cody when he was down.

Proximity alarms started going off and Crys yelled, voice getting sharper, “It’s seppies, sir! I don’t know where they came from, but--” The first explosions started, right around then.

#

By the end of the fight, some hours later, Obi-Wan had lost the undertunic. Cody didn’t know where it had gone. All he really knew, lowering his blaster as the last droid fell in a crumbled heap, was that the thin shirt Obi-Wan wore beneath the tunics was barely staying on.

One shoulder had torn when a droid tried to grapple him. It was sort of hanging off of his side, dipping open a little more each time he moved and--

Cody holstered his blaster, firmly, and did his best to holster the thoughts in his head. It didn’t help that the fight had left his blood singing, thrumming along in his veins. It didn’t help that Obi-Wan’s chest was sheened with sweat, or that he was barely breathing hard, or that Cody could see, when he leaned forward, the shift of muscle all down his back.

“--alright?” Obi-Wan asked, nudging him in the shoulder, strands of hair sticking to his face, his cheeks just a little flushed.

Cody managed not to make an incriminating sound by biting his tongue. He nodded, instead of talking, because this was, truly, uncomfortably close to some of the made-up scenarios he indulged in on particularly flustered nights.

He’d been trained to consider all possibilities. To let scenarios play out, to run through them, but he was fairly sure the Kaminoans hadn’t intended him to consider how he might go about pushing his General against a bulkhead after a fight. 

He had anyway.

“Did you get hit?” Obi-Wan asked, the wolfish grin he’d worn at the end of the fight falling away. He stepped a little closer, tugging at Cody’s armor which...did not help matters at all. 

“No,” Cody said, and cleared his throat, because there were freckles, apparently, out on the curve of Obi-Wan’s shoulder and he didn’t need to know that any more than he needed to know about the dimple on his-- “I’m fine, sir.”

Obi-Wan frowned at him. “You don’t seem fine. In fact, you haven’t seemed fine all day. What’s--kriffing hell,” he snapped the last, looking upwards as the universe drew back its foot to nail Cody again, likely directly in the kriffing balls, and the emergency fire suppressant system kicked on above them.

#

“Well, this has been an adventure,” Obi-Wan said, after someone, somewhere finally got the sprinklers to turn off. He was soaked to the skin, undershirt clinging to his skin, gone sheer from the water. 

Cody grunted a reply. It seemed all he could manage, trying desperately not to watch a droplet of water drip off the end of a strand of Obi-Wan’s hair, hit his shoulder, and roll down over his collarbone. Cody felt, abruptly, parched, mouth gone dry and it would be very easy to lean forward and lick that droplet up, but--

It would also be very easy for Obi-Wan to kick him off the Negotiator, afterwards. Still, he considered, gaze slipping helpless downwards, it might be worth it.

“This is ridiculous,” Obi-Wan said, sighing, walking down the hall a step ahead of him. “This entire day has been one misfire after another.” He turned into a room, reaching a hand back and grabbing the collar of what was left of his shirt as he did, pulling it over his head.

And, really, the water had spread the fabric over him like a second skin. It wasn’t like, a moment ago, Cody had been unable to see the line of his spine, the shift and movement of his shoulderblades. But watching him take his clothes off, the reveal of creamy skin, muscle, and darker scars set like little accents, here and there--

Well.

Cody made to follow - he wasn’t sure where they were going, he was just following along - and misjudged the location of the door frame because he wasn’t looking at it, because something had torn the waistband of Obi-Wan’s leggings, and, apparently, the only thing keeping them up was the water or possibly how lovingly tight there were. He walked fully into the frame, cursing at the sudden and unexpected pain across his forehead and cheek.

“Cody?” Obi-Wan asked, turning back and swearing while Cody brought a hand up. “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan demanded, stepping closer before Cody could reassure him that, yes, he was fine.

The words strangled off when Obi-Wan shifted into his space, frowning, reaching up to bat Cody’s hand out of the way. “What happened?” he asked, adding, “Well, you’re bleeding. Here.” And he pressed the tattered remains of his shirt against Cody’s forehead. “Hold this.”

“I’m fine,” Cody managed to say, belatedly, hoping that no one ever heard that he walked into a door hard enough to split the skin because he’d been too distracted by the way his General’s ass looked - firm, dimpled, and oh, it was so easy to imagine gripping - in some leggings. 

Obi-Wan met his gaze, an eyebrow arched, and said, “Obviously not. Come in, I think I’ve still got some bacta in here.”

Which was how Cody found himself standing in Obi-Wan’s quarters, holding Obi-Wan’s shirt against his forehead. Obi-Wan moved over to the little kitchenette, stretching up on his toes to open a cabinet and, well, on the plus side, Cody didn’t really feel the pain in his head.

On the negative side, he didn’t feel it because he was busy trailing his gaze from the line of Obi-Wan’s arm, down his back, to that dimple that he desperately wanted to sweep his thumb over, or, hell, his tongue, and--

“--listening to me? Oh,” Obi-Wan was, apparently, saying. Cody jerked his gaze up, in time to realize that the universe had delivered a parting blow to his ribs. Obi-Wan had looked over his shoulder and was, at that moment, staring back at him, expression unreadable. After a beat, his eyes narrowed and he said, “Wait, all day, have you been--”

“It’s the pants,” Cody cut in, the words springing onto his tongue quite without his permission.

Obi-Wan cocked his head to the side, turning, still watching him with that sharp, weighing expression in his eyes, though his mouth had started twitching up in the corners. “There’s something wrong with my pants?” he asked.

“No,” Cody said, because, really, there was nothing at all wrong with them, he loved those pants. “Yes,” he corrected himself, because, Force, maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought. Or maybe the problem was that none of the blood in his body had been making it all the way to his brain for most of the day. “I mean--” He shut his mouth, it seemed the safest way forward.

Obi-Wan mouth curved, just a little. He leaned back against the counter and said, airily, “Oh, well, if they’re a problem, I suppose I could take them off.”

Cody’s gut jerked as he stared across at Obi-Wan, his breath caught and held in the back of his throat, because--

Obi-Wan said, easy, “You could help.”

And Cody decided, abruptly, that mayde the universe wasn’t punishing him at all.

[savnofilter]

Kinktober Day 7

m. izuku

☠️ warning(s): 𝕓𝕝𝕠𝕨 𝕛𝕠𝕓𝕤, lingerie, slight dom/sub, face fucking (?), choking with schlong. 

☠️ genre: smut, holiday special.

☠️ words: 1.3k [5 mintues, 30 seconds].

☠️ read more: kinktober(uary)

☠️ summary: nothing but an innocent wedding day has you excited for the future. your giddiness leads you to give a surprise visit in midoriya’s study a few minutes before the ceremony.

☠️ a/n: requested by; @mci-writing​. mwuahahaha, i hope you like it! kinda proud of this, considering a part two~~ thank you for requesting, bby!!

The wedding preparations were already set in place. Midoriya nervously adjusted his tie and suit, ignoring all the running around from the place. Since the beginning of the day and up to this point it has been slightly hectic. Midoriya sighed as he finally had enough time for himself, in the closed confines of his study. He placed his hands on the desk as he prepared himself, his head hanging low before quickly snapping up to look up to catch the small knocks at the door. Apart from him wanting to pretend he wasn’t in the room but something told him to respond.

“Come in!” Now, what he wasn’t expecting was the bride herself. Izuku had no time process your presence, taken back as you were quick to drop the robe you had been gigHe blushed as he looked at your half-dressed state, in wedding dress undergarments. “H-Honey!” His face lit up in an embarrassed flush as he tried to hold his face from you. 

You giggled at his reaction, bouncing up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist, smiling brightly up at him. “What’s with the reaction? Are you scared!”

“N-No, of course not. You just caught me by surprise….” He tries to hold back his blush, letting his hands down as you move your hands up, resting on his shoulders, his hands moving to rest on your waist and give them a small playful squish. “What’s wrong?” He asks, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I’m not supposed to see you before the ceremony-”

“Why not?!” you ask confused at his words, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. 

“J-Just tradition? Bad luck or something….” He mumbles as he tries to remember, snapping out of his thinking state and looking down at you when you pout and move to get down on your knees. “Uh, honey? What are you doing?”

“I’m giving you a present before we have to go~,” You tell him in a sing-songy voice, hands trailing his body as you get on your knees. “I’ll make it quick..” You mumble. Your hand moves to palm him through his pants, your heart happily skipping a beat when you could already feel a semi hard-on against his slacks, your proximity from before totally forgetting that when you did get that close upon him and it tended to get him… aroused. You hummed happily at toying with it till you got bored of teasing him, his hands helping you get the pants loose. In times like this when you got needy, Izuku learned not to question it or deny it. Just satiate it.

“I’m going to make you feel good, Deku…” You kept back a grin as he heard you use his name, looking away as he got flustered. Your eyes shined as his cock came into view, your pussy pulsing at seeing his pp out in the open like this. Coincidentally, fucking in his study/office was something you thoroughly enjoyed, and being able to do it before your big day was a huge turn on for you. 

Opened your mouth to stick your tongue out, your wet muscle moving along and licking along his length. You let out a sound of appreciation of the taste of his skin, the soft veins teasing the buds of your tongue, and making you pull away to smile at it. His dick was… cute. The shape, the difference in the shade to the rest of his body always made you smile. Your hand comes up to pump the slickened girth, your fingers almost struggling to reach each other as you pumped him. As you worked his cock to get harder in your hand, your clit pulses in the need to have it buried deep in you.

You hoped you two would have enough time to fit that in as well.

With that thought in mind, you decided to get back to your earlier task, licking his tip before suckling on it. You perk up at the slight taste of his pre-cum against your mouth, happily cleaning that up too. Your hands were back to holding onto his thighs to help support yourself. Unabashedly you had spread your legs to let him see the surprise between your legs, the secret itself being you were wearing the white lingerie set he had bought you that had crotchless panties to match with it.

Izuku tilted his head back, his hand gripping the top of his desk, leaning his weight against the sturdy wood. He was a tad flustered to have gained a wife like this, on the same coin loving you for your very open nature and comfortability around him. But in moments like this? Fuck. He couldn’t think, and the way you were working at his length he had no choice to think about the actual event at hand, it was only the beautifully daring lover he was able to elope with.

When he rolled his head to look at you, his eyes clouded with lust and red-faced he could observe you. Somehow in your movements, your bra had shown him some skin and just a tease of your soft areola. While his gaze observed your mildly frazzled state he had noticed that you did dress up all special for him. He had to resist the urge of making your hair a mess, the hairstylist had already been able to pin up your hair in a beautiful bun that he didn’t want to risk messing up. He bent down a bit to let his hand press against the back of your neck, the change of his position being able to push his cock further into your throat and make you gag. While your throat rejected the third leg, you however did not.

“Be a good girl and swallow it.” Izuku says sweetly, his tone slightly breathy as you help him get off. He slightly curses under his breath as you do as told, humming to avoid the annoyance of your reflex. You were such a good little slut for him, always doing what was told. You moaned here and there to convey how much you loved his cock in your mouth, your hand moving to fondle his balls. "Sh-Shit…" 

You could feel his cock twitch at the new stimulation. You batted your lashes up at him as you continued to take his length as to if it was nothing. He used the back of your neck to help aid him in thrusting into you, the wet slapping sound of his hips meeting to press against your lips easily could've fooled someone walking by that his cock was in somewhere else. He needed no warning that he was close nor change his pace, the only indicator being his labored breathing. His last thrusts were hard, almost slamming against you before pressing your face into his pelvis and cumming. 

"Swallow it, baby~" Izuku coos down at you, an almost sadistic smile gracing his face as he watched you struggle to do so and breathe. He caressed your neck as you are finally able to move, letting you pull off to catch some air. You made sure to lick up his length again to make to get the mess cleaned up, earning a head pat from him. 

"Thank you, Izuku~" You smiled sweetly, getting back up on your feet and getting on your tippy-toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiles at the affection, his dominant nature falling back as he gets himself fixed up.

"S-Sorry if I got too carried away, I-I got excited…" 

"I love it when you treat me like that, Izuku." You smile cheekily at him, getting a napkin and cleaning up the residue saliva and cum, sadly managing to wipe off makeup with it as well. You'll just have to get it touched up before you go back. You sigh as you finally settle with having to leave your future husband's presence, wrapping your robe around you and waving at him as you leave. 

"We'll have round two after the ceremony~!"

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #199

Today on Fate and Phantasms we're making the Jotaro Kujo of FGO, Semiramis! (Seriously, how does that cape/hair... thing work? It's wild.) The queen of poisons is a Graviturgy Wizard to make building a floating castle slightly less difficult to make and cooler to live in, plus a Witherbloom Druid for some dove friends and extra poisons. If you've seen our builds for Waver and Edison, you might know already that building things with magic is costly and time-consuming, and for once that is 100% accurate to the character. Get ready, this is gonna be a weird one.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: I'm 40% appendicitis!

Race and Background

Semiramis is technically an aasimar, but she doesn't fly around or heal people, so we can just focus on her human side. .... Oooor we can focus on those ears, because we need to nick some stuff from being an Elf. Specifically, we're going with the Vahadar Elf from Plane Shift Kaladesh, since they've got the ears, the proficiencies we'll need later, and their backstory's still about living in general society, unlike wood elves and other Kaladeshian elves. Thanks to Tasha's Cauldron of Everything, this gives her +2 Intelligence and +1 Wisdom, as well as Darkvision, Fey Ancestry against being charmed, a Trance instead of sleep so she can't be put to sleep, Keen Senses for proficiency in Perception, the Mending cantrip to piece together the castle later, and most importantly Elf Weapon Training. Normally this would give her proficiency with four weapons, but thanks to Tasha's we can swap this out with four tools instead. Carpenter's, Glassblower's, Mason's, and Smith's Tools proficiency should give us everything we need to build a castle later- we'll go into the why when we get there.

Semiramis is also a Noble- grab History, but swap out Persuasion for Deception. Yeah, not even her background can escape how weird this build is.

Ability Scores

Poisoning skills come from Intelligence (I think. WotC are really nonspecific about how to actually fucking make poison), and it's also your main casting modifier: put that first. Second should be your Charisma, nobody drinks poison on purpose, so you'd better get good at lying. After that is Wisdom. If your poisons aren't made with Intelligence it'll definitely be wisdom. That means your Dexterity isn't great- yeah, you fight in a dress, but if you're fighting and not your lackeys, something's gone wrong. We're not dumping Constitution because we're not stupid, so dump Strength instead. You've got minions to carry rocks around for you.

Class Levels

Wizard 1: Starting as a wizard nets you the weakest hit die in the game, but it also gets you proficiency in Intelligence and Wisdom saves, plus the Arcana and Medicine skills. You're half caster, and if you want to ruin someone's bodily functions you have to know what those are first. Starting as a wizard also gets you Spells that you can cast and prepare using your Intelligence. You get six at first level and two each level after. That's a lot, so we're just going to over spells that are important for the build here, though there's a full list of what we'd get in the character sheet. For cantrips, grab Infestation and Poison Spray for poison damage. For once infestation is completely kosher as is, since Semiramis can summon any creature as long as its poisonous. Also, grab Message. Castle halls are big and echo-y, and it's probably not a good idea to shout at people to find out which glass they put the poison in. Aside from that, grab Mage Armor so you die less, Magic Missile for Assassin balls, and Tenser's Floating Disk to carry all the raw materials you'll be using later. Finally, you get an Arcane Recovery once per long rest, letting you recover a couple spell slots on a short rest. The total level you recover is equal to half your wizard level, rounded up.

Wizard 2: Going into second level of wizard gives you a school of magic, and it's hard to lift several tons of stone into the air if you're not into Graviturgy. When you take the subclass, you can Adjust Density as an action, doubling or halving a large or smaller creature/object's weight for up to a minute with concentration. If you reduce a creature's weight it'll increase their speed by 10', double their jump distance, and have disadvantage on strength saves and checks, and vice versa if you increase it. I checked, and stone is roughly 1,000 times denser than air, not 2, so we'll have to do some brewing later to make this work out. Make your strong minions stronger, your fast minions faster, or do the opposite for your enemies.

Wizard 3: Third level wizards get second level spells. You won't get any dragons in this build, sad to say, but you can use Dragon's Breath to turn just about anything into a dragon. They can even spit poison breath, which is really good with the poisoner's feat. Speaking of..

Wizard 4: First Ability Score Improvement of the build, so grab the Poisoner's Feat for more poisony goodness. All poison-based damage rolls you make ignore resistance, you can coat weapons as a bonus action, and you get proficiency in the poisoner's kit. You also learn a special poison that'll force a dc 14 constitution save on the creature you use it on, dealing 2d8 poison damage and poisoning them for a round.

Wizard 5: Fifth level wizards get third level spells. Animate Dead will help you make dragontooth warriors, a.k.a. skeletons. You can make one per casting right now, but you can recast the spell to retain control over up to three skeletons at once. Otherwise they'll be uncontrollable monsters, which is probably less of a goal.

Druid 1: Semiramis might be known for her poisons, but she's really a multifaceted person. Well, not really, but if you want poisons, you're going to get them from animals. If you want animals, you're going to get them from druids. First level druids learn Druidic- it's a language! They also get another set of Spellcasting using their Wisdom to cast and prepare spells. Check the multiclassing table to figure out your spell slots. Grab Guidance and Resistance to be a bit better than everyone else. For first level spells, look for Entangle and Snare to summon chains to slow down enemies, and Speak with Animals to make sure your dovey-woveys know their work is appreciated. We haven't gotten dovey-woveys yet? Don't worry, they're coming.

Druid 2: Second level druids join their circle, and you're so goddamn smart you just joined another school. At the college of Witherbloom, you'll learn how to turn the vitality of nature into deadly poisons. Right off the bat you get circle spells, which are always prepared for you and don't count against how many spells you can prepare. Right now you get the Spare the Dying cantrip as well as Cure and Inflict Wounds. Now you don't literally have to summon a whip every time you want to hit someone. You can also tap in creatures' essences with your Essence Tap. As a bonus action, you empower yourself for 1 minute, gaining one of two options. Overgrowth lets you heal yourself with a hit die each turn as a bonus action, adding your wisdom modifier to the amount healed. Withering Strike lets you change your damage to necrotic when you hit someone with any sort of damage, ignoring resistances to make your poisons even deadlier. You can use this proficiency times per long rest. Most importantly, you gain a Wild Shape / Wild Companion. Both features use the same two charges per short rest. You're limited to what you can turn into based on its CR and movement options, but those limits and how long you can transform/summon a creature for grows as you level up. Currently I'd stick with Wild Companion for dove familiars, but some versions of Semiramis' story include her turning into a dove herself at the end, so Wild Shape isn't out of the question. As long as we sink eight levels into druid, at least.

Druid 3: Third level druids get second level spells, like your freebies Lesser Restoration and Ray of Enfeeblement. Look, if you're going to make poisons it only makes sense that you'd have antidotes on hand. You can also grab spells like Animal Messenger to send your doves out for ingredients, and Locate Animals or Plants to find them yourself.

Wizard 6: Sixth level graviturgists can make a Gravity Well when you cast a spell, moving the target 5 feet in any direction if it is willing or you successfully hit it with the spell. Speaking of spells that push people, Pulse Wave does just that, stepping in for the big stompy dragon animation. Creatures in a 30' cone make a constitution save, and if they fail they'll take force damage and get pushed back 15', or 20' with Gravity Well. You can also pull them, but that's not really stompy at that point. You can also Summon Undead to create a stronger skeleton to lead the others.

Druid 4: At fourth level, druids can transform into swimming creatures, and you also get another ASI. Bump up your Intelligence for stronger spells. Also, grab the Control Fire cantrip, it'll be cold in your castle without it.

Druid 5: Fifth level druids get third level spells, like Revivify and Vampiric Touch. Neither of those are in character, but you can also Conjure Animals (as long as they're poisonous) and Dispel Magic to keep your throne room free of nonsense.

Wizard 7: Seventh level wizard get fourth level spells, including the one we've been working our way up to, Fabricate! As long as you have the raw materials, you can turn them into products of the same material. Since you're working with stone, you're limited to creating Medium objects this way. Just line the outside of the medium objects you make with halves of smaller objects, then mend them together, and eventually you'll have a castle. This will take a while. For a decent-sized castle of 300'x400', you'll be looking at roughly 480 medium-sized blocks per floor. At level 20 you'll have 12 spell slots of fourth level or higher, so you can knock out a floor in roughly 40 days, not including things like doors or other furniture. Also worth noting, you can't make fancy things like glass without proficiency in the tools required to make them normally, hence all the tool proficiencies from your racial bonuses.

Wizard 8: Use your next ASI to bump up your Wisdom for better healing and stronger druid spells. You also learn Mordenkainen's Private Sanctum, so you can prevent creatures from spying into your hanging gardens. Especially useful is the ability to block creatures from teleporting or plane shifting onto your grounds, as that's probably the only way to approach your gardens safely. Or at least it is after you learn Ice Storm, a long range spell that pelts enemies with ice and turns the area into difficult terrain. Of note, it doesn't say the ground, so the entire cylinder will be difficult to fly through. If you want to build giant arcane cannons instead for authenticity, I salute you. Just remember that'll have to come out of your budget.

Wizard 9: Ninth level wizards get fifth level spells, and Wall of Stone will help you speed up construction by making ten 10'x10' panels or ten 10'x20' panels. You can also use this spell to create bridges or the like, and if you hold concentration for 10 minutes the stone remains permanently. If you want to skimp on materials so you can just get this fucking thing in the air already, this'll help with that. You're also learning Geas. If you can't summon a dragon, forcibly controlling a dragon is the next best thing.

Druid 6: Did you think we were done with druid? I said we were stuck here for 8 levels, didn't I? Sixth level witherbloom druids can make a Witherbloom Brew thanks to their new proficiency with Herbalism kits. At the end of a long rest, you can use that kit to make Proficiency brews, which last for 24 hours. A Fortifying brew gives a creature resistance to a damage type chosen at brewing (cold, fire, necrotic, poison, or radiant) for an hour. A Quickening brew heals its drinker, and ends one disease or an effect of charming, frightening, paralyzation, poisoning, or stunning. Again, antidotes might be useful to have on hand, but the real reason we're here is for the Toxifying brew. You can apply the brew to a weapon, and the next time within an hour that weapon hits a creature, they take 2d6 poison damage and have to make a constituiton saving throw (DC 8 + your wisdom modifier + proficiency) or be poisoned for a minute. This is literally so much better than the poisoner feat what the hell.

Druid 7: Seventh level druids get fourth level spells, like Blight and Greater Restoration for stronger poisons and antidotes respectively. You can also Dominate Beast to hold any poisonous critters still while you milk them, or summon Giant Insects instead. They obey you and stay giant until they drop to 0 HP, dismiss the effect, the spell ends.

Druid 8: Our last level of druid finally lets you turn into a dove with a second Wild Shape Improvement. You also get another ASI, so bump up that Wisdom for stronger spells and poisons.

Wizard 10: Tenth level graviturgists can create a Violent Attraction between a creature's face and a weapon, causing a nearby weapon attack to deal an extra 1d10 damage. Alternatively, you can increase the attraction between a creature and the ground, adding 2d10. I doubt your hanging gardens need help making the fall more deadly, but now you can help out of need be. You can do this Intelligence modifier per long rest.

Wizard 11: Eleventh level wizards get sixth level spells, like Guards and Wards. This will make it so much harder for enemies to breach your castle it isn't even funny, if the "hanging out in the stratosphere" thing didn't tip them off already.

Wizard 12: By twentieth level you should have a castle set up, so grab the Lucky feat. Basically, everything that can go right for you does while you're in your castle, so now you get 3 luck points per long rest to make sure that happens, letting you re-roll your attacks, saves, and checks, as well as attacks aimed at you.

So how the fuck do I get a flying castle?

So, admittedly this is up to DM fiat, but let's be real, a flying castle sounds sick as hell and gathering resources is a great reason to go adventuring. If I was your DM, it'd go something like this; After x months of research, you find a way to prepare materials so Adjust Density is permanent on them if you concentrate for the duration. Then you make and fuse together castle chunks as described in level twelve, and eventually you lighten the load on the special rocks so much they're lighter than air. Boom, liftoff, you're fucking awesome now. If you want to go down, just make the float rocks heavier again.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

Even if you don't build a giant floating castle in your adventure, that doesn't mean all this prepwork went to waste. You are a master at protecting areas from invasion, so no matter where you lay your head you know it's going to be safe. Not as safe as a floating castle, but still, safe.

By mixing together all your tool proficiencies with Fabricate, you can make pretty much whatever you need from raw materials. No more paying a smithy for fancier armor!

If you do get your castle in the air or you're near a cliff, you are incredibly deadly, with plenty of ways to shove opponents around or otherwise control movement. Slow them down, trip them up, or shove them off a cliff it's so good. Pulse people off the edge of your garden and laugh at them as they fall.

Cons:

There's literally no rules about building your own castles & poisons, so most of this build is entirely dependent on your DM. If you get a cool one, cool! If you don't, this build is pretty much a writeoff.

You need to hide away in your castle and send out minions because you're kind of pathetic in person. With only 14 AC and less than 100 HP, you'll go down faster than Medb if you don't use your Wild Shapes well.

A lot of that can be chalked up to mixing caster classes, meaning we have to spend more ASIs to make both spell modifiers good, and we miss out on higher level spells. Also, spending 8 levels in druid just to turn into a dove isn't that great unless you really want the flavor. I highly recommend skipping out after 6, the last graviturgy effect is great both to knock people out of the sky and make them bow if they get to your throne room.

But, getting to your throne room is 90% of the fight. This build is one that emphasizes patience, and that's what puts you above the common folk. Hang out in the stratosphere, attend social events in style, and let your poisons and skeleton warriors do the fighting for you. Just be glad there aren't any wacky knights riding hippogryphs around.

[thedistantdusk]

Arcadia, Chapter 4

Well! What could happen next to our star-crossed investigative pair? Yeah idk, man... somehow, this fic got a lot darker than I intended. Anyway! Thanks again to the same folks, without whom this story wouldn’t be possible. None of this story is safe for work, and this chapter is no exception ;) 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

D A Y + F O U R

She’s not sure when she wakes up. Her eyes blink open in the bleary morning… that foggy gap between night and day. Blue-green light streams through the windows, coloring the bedroom like it’s underwater.

He’s the first thing she notices, all warm and curled beside her. Harry… her Harry. A sad smile graces her lips as it all comes flooding back. Mike. The tulpa. The shower. Harry…

But together, all of those things are uncomfortable. Bits of it were nice, but the whole thing makes her stomach churn. It’s much easier to—

She presses her bum against him, hoping that wakes him up. Hoping he takes the hint. Harry heaves a deep breath, but doesn’t acknowledge her. Ginny bites her lip and wiggles back. Again.

Finally, he responds. But not how she’d hoped.

“Let’s… not jump to starting that up again,” Harry murmurs into her ear, his voice graveled with sleep. “Ok?”

She whips around, brow furrowed. “So you’ve suddenly become unattracted to—?”

He barks out a humorless laugh and reaches for his glasses. “We both know that’ll never happen.” He takes her in, reclining on the tufted headboard; she can’t help but feel flattered by the red patches that bloom on his cheeks. “Erm…” He clears his throat. “Could you get a dressing gown, actually? I really want to have a serious conversation and…”

He’s never been able to concentrate while she’s naked, has he?

“Sure.” For some reason, her skin prickles as she rises to her feet to pad across the carpet. Exposed. She feels exposed, even though Harry’s probably seen her naked more times than she has. Because this time, it’s not so much that he’s seeing her body naked— it’s that he’s about to discuss things she’s tried very, very hard to deny.

Ginny emerges from the closet in a white dressing gown and gives Harry a little twirl. “Happy?”

His lips curl in a tired smile. “Not… exactly. But I’m hoping to change that.”

“Oh?” Ginny settles in the desk chair. She’s not keen on this conversation, but some part of her recognizes it’s long overdue.

Harry begins by clearing his throat again. “So. Erm.” He places his fingers in a steeple and studies them. “As I… admitted last night, I’ve never stopped loving you. It’s been an awful, awful five years, but frankly it would’ve been worse if we’d stayed together, under those circumstances.”

She opens her mouth to object, but he raises a hand to forestall an interruption.

“Let… let me finish. Because after Percy died...” He shoots her a significant look. “You changed. Ok?”

“That’s not exactly fair,” she snaps, peering at her painted toenails. “Of fucking course I changed. If I didn’t change, I’d be a bloody sociopath. Is that who you wanted to shag?”

Harry heaves a deep sigh. “No. And I’m not going to let you get away with twisting things… again. Ok? Please, just let me finish.”

She presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth. For fuck’s sake, why does she already want to cry?

“You changed,” Harry continues, “and I really don’t blame you for it, but you refused to talk about Percy, or that night, or- or honestly, even anything remotely sad! Ever!” He pauses to collect his thoughts; guilt stabs at Ginny’s stomach. She wasn’t aware this frustrated him quite so much…

“You threw yourself into schoolwork,” he adds, blinking at the far wall. “You lost interest in things you loved. We still had sex, but it was…” He winces. “Unattached. It was… it was like it didn’t even need to be me there, in particular.” His eyes flit back to hers. “I tried to talk to you about it loads of times, but then when you joined the Unspeakables, you just used that as an excuse.”

Traitorous tears drip down her cheeks. She brushes them away to defend herself. “I was already interested in joining up before that,” Ginny insists, her voice warbling. “You weren’t there that year, Harry. You didn’t see what it was like at Hogwarts. The Unspeakables were putting out all this… this rubbish misinformation about you and about muggleborns, and—”

“—All of that is well and good,” Harry interrupts, “but the fact is that you became a different person after Percy died, and after nearly a year of living with that, I’d had enough.” He shrugs. “And even five years later, you’ve never sought help, as far as I know. Professional help, from someone who knows what they’re talking about. Not the type of help you find at the bottom of a pint.”

He’s right, of course. It’s like a stinging slap in the face, but he’s bloody right.

“So!” Harry clears his throat again. “As much as I… enjoyed last night, that can’t happen again if we don’t fix what split us up before. You’re still convinced you killed Percy. Until you’re not? This”— he gestures between them— “can’t work. Full stop.”

Ginny swallows and stares into her lap. “I’m not responsible for my brother’s death,” she whispers, emotionless. It’s a mantra, an oath, one she’s so accustomed to repeating that it’s turned foreign and unfamiliar on her tongue.

“Oh, I’m aware,” Harry says, spreading his palms. “The whole bloody world is aware, Jenny.” He sucks his teeth. “But you aren’t.”

There’s a pause. Ginny bites her lip, tempted to launch the spring-loaded denial she’s learned through years of counseling. But this time, it doesn’t come.

Because Harry knows better.

Shit.

That fact settles in the pit of her stomach; what are the chances, really, that she found herself trapped and playing house with the only person on earth who knows better.

“I was the last to see him,” she mutters, eyes downcast. “I told him he’d never replace Fred. I was drunk. Stupid. Stupidly drunk.” She grips her head in her hands, but the words don’t stop. They’re shooting from her, spurred by years of grief and regret and bursting forth like a steam engine.

“My stupid fucking temper,” she continues, every syllable dripping with self-loathing. “Ruining everything. And then he goes and—” She makes a flailing gesture. “Offs himself. Right on my mother’s fucking birthday! The day before your parents—”

“I know,” Harry whispers, his voice pleading. “Ginny, I know. But please, love, it’s not your fault. It’s never been your fault.”

She can’t breathe. She can’t breathe. It’s too much to say it aloud, to admit it, to let the waves of regret wash over her. There’s a scuttling of movement as she blinks ahead, gaping like a fish out of water. She’s not even surprised to feel Harry wrapping his arms around her and bringing her back to the bed. To feel his lips pressing to her temple as her body wracks with sobs. And she can’t do anything but lean into him. She can’t do anything but surrender, completely. To indulge in feeling raw and vulnerable and alive.

She doesn’t know how long it takes to come to. It’s not until she’s clinging to his chest that she draws a deep breath.

“You never told me any of this,” Harry says softly, mournfully, his hand playing with her hair. He loves her hair. He’s always loved her hair. With a final sob, she admits— if only to herself— that she misses letting him love it. She misses how he’d bury his face in the crook of her neck. How he’d inhale deeply, right at the crown of her head, and blink down at her with a dreamy smile.

She misses him.

Fuck. She misses him. And not just shagging him… but the whole bit. The late-night snacks and discussions on quidditch plays and heated debates about the best brand of toilet roll.

“What… what if I agree to work on it?” she finally whispers, eyelashes thick with half-dried tears.

Harry sighs; his hands still haven’t left her hair. “If we both agree to work on it… because trust me, I’m not doing fantastic either.” He lets out a chuckle. “Do you know how weird that was, being the stable one for once? Anyway.” He waves this off and continues. “If we both work on it, with proper mind-healers…” He swallows. “I don’t see why we couldn't be physical. Eventually.”

She pulls back to give him a watery grin. “I love you,” she murmurs. For the first time in years, her chest feels full. Her heart warm. Like there’s a chance at something in the future that doesn’t involve work and sadness and takeaways.

But speaking of work.

“I’d erm. Like to keep things with us private,” she says, playing with a piece of lint on the duvet. “Especially from work. And my family. Because…”

The thought of Attica’s face, pinched in disappointment, is nearly enough to replace the progress they’ve made over the past day.

“No,” Harry agrees quickly. “That’s. Yeah. Especially from Ron.” He shudders. “Can you imagine how well that would go over?”

“Huh! That’s ridiculous, Harry.” She bats her eyes at him, her expression the picture of innocence. “You mean you don’t want my brother to know that you went down on me and promptly spunked your—”

He cuts her off with a laugh, tossing a pillow on her face. She pulls it off with a giggle before settling beside him.

“Didn’t think you noticed that,” he admits, trailing a finger down the side of her face. “I really hoped you were asleep.”

She stifles a yawn. “Mmm. Don’t have to be Hermione to put that one together. Clue one: you were down there, which you’ve always… enjoyed.” She sleepily raises her eyebrows. “Clue two, I’ve seen you do that before — more than once— and you always have this weird… sort of duck-walk to take your trousers off.”

Harry groans, his entire face the color of her hair. “Please, please, don’t stop on account of me.” He somehow manages a sarcastic drawl as he removes his glasses and places them on the bedside table. “Let’s continue to detail all the times I’ve finished too quickly.”

“Not just too quickly,” she corrects, kissing him on the nose. “I’m only talking about coming in your trousers, which you’ve also managed to do several ti—”

Harry snorts. “And how many times have you done it, then?” His green eyes dance with mischief. “Also more than once. As memory serves, our time at Hogwarts got a lot more interesting once you discovered the combination of my thigh and snogging. You just don’t have the equipment to make things particularly messy when—”

“Clue three!” she loudly calls over him. He has the grace to laugh as she turns so they're spooning, her bum pressed against his crotch.

“I… said I loved you,” she finishes, interlacing their fingers. “And that’s always… you know.”

Harry shudders; there’s a sudden rise of fabric against her bum. “Ok, speaking of embarrassing,” he admits, adjusting himself. “You’re actually going to have to erm. Stop saying that? For now? Because…”

“Trust me, Auror Potter,” she murmurs, dropping her voice to her best impression of Kingsley. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Unfair,” he complains, toying with a piece of her hair. “As you can see, I’m a bit of a mess. It still turns me on when you say you love me.”

“Yeah, well, it still turns me on when you breathe,” she mutters, her eyes growing heavy. “Reckon we can just be messes together.”

Harry chuckles before burying his face into her hair. “I’ll always be your mess. Jenny.”

[tangledinmdzs]

i still wanna be your favorite - yi city mdzs characters

best friend/good friends headcanons with the yi city arch characters, because everyone needs love (written following inspiration from the yi city arch)

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ ᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ 

Xiao Xingchen

you’ve been using your dwindling spiritual energy for days now

running from the havoc of your old, demolished sector

keeping yourself awake enough despite the blood that was dripping down your wound

pushing away any and all thoughts of the losses that you had suffered

even though many days have passed since the attack on your sector

it still feels as if it had happened yesterday

after the thousandth step that you take, you end up slumping down at the bark of a tree off the side of the road you’re taking

you’re too far from the town that you had left to go back

and in the yawning distance before you, you don’t see any other town close enough for you to walk to

you sigh to yourself as you look up at the high mid-day sun

your skin is hot

there’s iron in your mouth, on your clothes, all around you

between everything that had went on your barely remember if it’s your blood or the blood of your comrades or your enemies

everything seems hopeless, now that you were to die in a sad, lonesome way

you shock yourself with the dark thought of

perhaps you should have just died protecting your sect

instead of running away

a tear rolls down your cheek just as your spiritual energy runs out

all the pain of the past few days wash over you like a wave

you’re pulled under 

by the aching in your bones

the gentle warmth of your blood flowing past your fingertips at your last physical attempt at saving yourself

and the notion of regret, intensifying all that your adrenaline had kept at bay these last few days 

you cry, but they are silent tears rolling down your cheeks

you don’t even have the energy to cry any harder

and as your consciousness fades into the background, you barely have enough energy to focus on the sounds of footsteps that approach

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

you wake up

you honestly didn’t think that you would

but you’re startled at the sight that you open your eyes to

there’s a man before you

you want to move back, but your first attempt makes a groan break past your lips

the sound you make causes the man before you to turn around 

and then you realize that he is blind

“please don’t move too much; you’ll loosen the bandages on your wound” the man’s gentle, deep voice tells you

you calm your breath, feeling less insecure about the indecent state that you are in, considering that he can’t see you anyways

“i’ll fetch some porridge for you,” you hear him announce before he leaves

from that moment, you feel the debt that you owe to him

for saving your life

for giving more than he had

maybe there was something akin to luck, for you to have met him so

when he returns with the bowl, he helps you sit up and feeds you 

his gentleness is something that you are not used to, and it brings tears to your eyes, after days of sadness and grief

and even though he can’t see, the man in front of you is still incredibly attentive

he stalls the spoonful of porridge when he hears the deep breath that you take in the face of your silent tears

outside the night is dark, and before you finish your food he suggests one thing

“stay as long as you would like, to rest and regain your strength”

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃ 

A-Qing

you become a staple in A-Qing’s and Xiao Xingchen’s life after your rescue

and at first, she had you fooled well by her fake blindness

but after a month you realize that she can actually see

if the way her eyes seem to skirt away whenever you look at her is anything to go by

but you don’t tell her that you know

or force her to tell you

everyone had their reasons for doing what they needed to do

she’s still a witty and energetic girl nonetheless

and you grow fond of her quickly

between the three of you, less people are able to swindle Xiao Xingchen/take advantage of his blindness 

his kindness

because there is one person that is known to be seeing and two that can actually see

the three of you form your little family, because although Xiao Xingchen can do many things, there were also other things that his blindness limited him

you end up thatching the roof and doing other nitty gritty things once your wound heals up particularly well

and with more people, there was more ways to share the work

Xiao Xingchen also feels less antsy when you accompany A-Qing to the market or other places

A-Qing finds a solace in you that’s different from Xiao Xingchen

where the Taoist monk was gentle and calm, like the breeze

you were like the heat of the sun, 

hard, bright

but ultimately needed

after you had spent half a year with them, A-Qing wonders how she and the Taoist monk had survived as long as they did without you

and when the little girl sees how Xiao Xingchen’s lips ease into a smile at the sound of your voice, she feels warmth for you too

A-Qing’s never had a mother,

or a family

but nights in the coffin home are warmer now when your soft voice is there to lull her into sleep

you don’t sing much, not really

but that had been one of the many techniques of your sector

before the incident had happened

but it’s hard to forget all you’ve learned 

and you hum a soft tune into the night when the home that you share is a little too quiet

and sometimes, before your deep late night talks with Xiao Xingchen by the fire, A-Qing joins as well

because she is an eager child

and you can’t deny her company anyways

you’ve grown used to the way that the child lays down in your lap

and how you simply throw your cape over her curled up form out of habit

and the way your hand soothes the child’s shoulders in tandem to the melody you begin

you sing a song,

it’s not really a song as much as it is just an exercise for voice cultivation

but it is nice and soft

and with each rise and fall of your voice, A-Qing imagines that perhaps, her mother would have sounded just like this

it takes only a few quick minutes for A-Qing to drift off to sleep, and another quiet minutes after for you to finish

you know the child is asleep by the soft snores that you in your lap, but you look down anyways

A-Qing’s face is cherubic when she isn’t too busy trouble-making,

“the night is cold, i’ll put the child to bed” you tell Xiao Xingchen across the fire, 

“hmm...” 

you nod at Xiao Xingchen’s hum and gather the child in your arms to put her in her room

Xiao Xingchen waits for you by the fire, as he has grown used to

you return as he expects

and when the night grows quiet again, Xiao Xingchen closes his eyes behind his eye covering and truly listens

reminisces

your voice

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Xue Yang

you realize that Xiao Xingchen seems to have a knack for finding people in precarious situations

you’re walking along with A-Qing and the monk on one of the off roads back to town when you find him

he’s laying face down on the grass

at first sight, you had thought it too be a mere body and try to shield the child away from it

but you catch sight of the slightest rise, like a struggling breath from the back

“blood,” Xiao Xingchen comments, and you immediately tell him of the body that you see and the distance between you both 

between the three of you, you’re able to bring him back to your little coffin home just as night fall is approaching

as you and Xiao Xingchen tend to the man’s wounds, you realize that this is probably how you had looked, when Xiao Xingchen had rescued you...a year (maybe a bit more) ago

the man awakens in the midst of his wrapping and has a similar reaction to when you had first awoken, but you’re quick to explain yourself and Xiao Xingchen

“it’s okay, we’re helping you. please don’t move too much” you say quickly, as you look down at the way the bandage is already reddening from the quick movement that he had tried to do

there’s a muted sort of reaction from the man that neither you nor A-Qing quite understand 

you think that’s from the pain of his injury

it’s not

a month under yours and Xiao Xingchen’s care Xue Yang is doing much better, though he doesn’t speak much

although you don’t think much about it, A-Qing off the bat does not like him

“he’s mean to me,” A-Qing had told you while you walked with her to the market

she clung onto your arm as she walked, stick switching back and forth for people to see

the child truly got better at being blind day by day

“perhaps, his injuries make him feel unwell,” because you like to give people the benefit of the doubt

A-Qing huffs

it is not good to judge people, if Xiao Xingchen has taught you anything at all in his care, being with him

but then, the night hunt happens

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

you don’t usually follow Xiao Xingchen on his nighthunts

because you hadn’t used your sword in a while

also because he didn’t ever allow you to

but when you catch Xue Yang’s request to join Xingchen one night, long after everyone had retired to bed, you can’t help but invite yourself along

you hadn’t ever thought that Xingchen would agree

but well,

he had

and so even though the weather tonight was colder and outside seemed darker

you thought that maybe it’d be good for you to come as an extra hand

they might need your help, if neither of them ever directly asked for it

sometimes you regret that you had even followed them anyways

because if you didn’t come along

you wouldn’t have seen the extent with which Xiao Xingchen was tricked

and how evil, truly evil, Xue Yang was

you hold back your own shocked gasp, hidden in the bushes as you watch

it was a tortuous deed that Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen (unknowingly) participated in

though you muffle your ragged breathing, you couldn’t help but cry at the way the old farmers were begging and moaning, clinging to the edge soft Xiao Xingchen’s robes as the empty holes of their mouths gaped at him

only for Xingchen to slice them dead with a clean cut of his sword

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Song Lan

the months add up, and some days,

you think to yourself, of a way to rid Xue Yang that would protect everyone, 

because the man that was currently living in your coffin home was no ordinary cultivator

perhaps he was a murder

but whatever his background,

he would not be kind

you’re out on the day’s errand, mindlessly going about the market when you bump into someone 

he is a tall man, reminds you so much of Xingchen 

yet somehow different

you both stare at each other, 

unbeknownst to the fate that you both would meet with one another

 death

it was quick,

it was a shock

but you suppose it was worth it

you didn’t think that this man would talk to A-Qing,

nor that the child would leave the man back to the Coffin Home

you didn’t think that the man would know the stranger of your home, now named Xue Yang in your mind or Xiao XIngchen as well as he did

and when the fight breaks out among everyone, 

in between the dirty tricks that Xue Yang plays

you step in front of A-Qing to shield her from a sword that is thrown her way

and it’s a quick, easy way to go,

you’ve never been a strong cultivator anyways

you’re just sorry that you had to add more pain to the child’s life

you close your eyes to the tears and wails of A-Qing, peaceful at the very least

that she is alright

[sapphic-yearning-lesbian]

This is chapter three (Chapter one & two)

Namaari learns more about Raya finding herself even more smitten.

Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol (80 proof)

Word Count: 3299

Each character is aged up roughly ten years. I have a timeline on my AO3

--

Resuming from previous chapter

"I'm surprised you actually came," Raya said, smiling as she slowly shifted her posture to be sitting on the edge of the bed. Namaari quickly got up from her seat and helped her sit up, placing her hand on Raya's back to stabilize her. Raya felt electricity where Namaari's hand lingered.

"I am, too," Namaari answered truthfully. 

Raya was content with Namaari's honest answer, for now. As she could see the fear and nervousness behind Namaari's actions, so trying to calm the other, she chuckled before speaking. "Can you hand me my call button, please?" Raya said in a gentle tone, smiling at the other. Namaari nodded as she used her free hand to grab it off her chair, handling it to Raya. "I'm still not allowed to walk to the bathroom by myself, so--" She said as she felt her cheeks turn red. 

Namaari just smiled, because technically she could help Raya to the restroom, but clearly, Raya didn't want that. "Yup, your whiteboard says BMAT 3," she says in a scoff as she cups her right hand, tucking her hair behind her right ear. Raya presses both her lips together, trying to hide the fluttering in her stomach caused by Namaari's shy mocking attempt; somehow, she pushed through it and rolled her eyes.

"Sure it does, but my normal, not nurse friend, wouldn't know what that abbreviation meant," Raya answered with the tiniest smirk, causing Namaari to smile before tilting her head towards the call light, signaling Raya to press it; which she did. "I need an assist to the restroom, and could they bring me some hygiene supplies as well. Please and thank you." The person on the other side of the intercom assured her someone would be in soon.

"That didn't sound like a patient talking; it sounded more like a nurse." Namaari teasingly said, which caused Raya's cheeks to tint in a light shade of red.

"Guess we're both guilty then," Raya said before coming to a realization. "Damm, we both suck at being just everyday people who aren't nurses." They both burst out in laughter, but Raya quickly stopped as the tightness in her chest was highly uncomfortable. Shaking her head and grunting, she spoke again, "It hurts when I laugh, but I'm just so funny." She said, laughing once again, this time biting her bottom lip as she felt the painful sting in her chest. Namaari's laughter dying down as a frown replaced it

"You're going to hurt yourself," Namaari softly stated as she looked nervously at the other who was just smiling back at her. She sighed before a smile appeared on her lips, "You're not even that funny," She declared, raising an eyebrow at Raya, whose smile widened.

Knock Knock 

"Hello. My name is Boun, and I'm your nursing assistant for today," said a young man as he walked into the room with all Raya's hygiene supplies. He smiled at Raya. "You must be Ms. Hart."

"No No No. We will not have that! You will call me Raya." Raya stated as she waved her hands in front of her causing Boun to laugh.

"Of course." He looks up at Namaari. "Are you doing a check-up? I wasn't aware. I would have waited." Namaari shook her head rapidly to the sides.

"Yes, I work here, but I'm not on her health care team, and I'm not even a resident," Namaari said awkwardly; she knew the blue scrubs would cause problems. 

Boun just raised an eyebrow before nodding and walking over to Raya. He was there to supervise that she didn't accidentally fall, as she was caple of moving on her own. 

Raya was still experiencing pain. She had three total broken ribs; Two caused by Tong and one by the CPR that saved her life. Ribs don't magically heal; it takes upward to a month to heal, so she had a very long journey ahead of herself. She also had a surgical incision that takes a minimum of two weeks to heal. 

If Raya were to fall, she could further injure herself or delay her healing process. For these reasons, her doctors agreed she needed a nursing assistant to supervise her when ambulating (walking); This didn't bother Raya. She just dislikes how slow her movements are.

--

Namaari was standing by the window talking on the phone when Raya came out of the bathroom. 

Once Raya's gaze returned to Boun, he smiled at her; he was standing on her right side, hoovering his left hand over her back while his right hoovered in the front. He didn't touch her, but he was ready to steady her if she lost balance.

"I understand, mother. I'm sorry for forgetting about our morning brunch." Namaari said sincerely into her phone. "How about we get together for dinner? I'll text you the details. Goodbye, mother." Raya watched as Namaari turned her attention to her, smiling warmly before looking back at her phone ending the call.

"Can I sit on the couch? I've been stuck in that bed for days." Raya said, turning her attention to Boun again, who nodded and assisted her to the couch. 

Once Raya was situated on the couch, Boun placed her call light near her before excusing himself. Namaari quite timidly sat on the other end of the sofa, looking at Raya's hair before chucking and saying, "I ordered us some breakfast from the cafeteria, and because you're a patient, we actually get the good food."

Raya knew her hair was a mess, and she tried to brush it, but the comb the hospital provides only pulled on her hair, making it frizzy while failing at untangling it. She smiled awkwardly, knowing she didn't look her best and she was in the presence of a goddess. 

Raya glanced over Namaari's face. Her hair was also a slight mess but not even close to hers. She tried to hide her smile as she saw the smugly eyeliner. She concluded that  Namaari was breathtaking, even with a face full of messed-up makeup. 

Namaari sensed Raya's mood change, so she stood up from the couch, walking to the chair where she had her personal bag. She carries a small brush at all times; she has straight hair, and so much as looking at it causes it to get tangled. Namaari also carries small elastic hair ties. That will have to do, she thought as she walked over to Raya, holding her supplies with a huge grin on her lips. "May I brush your hair? It's faster that way." Namaari warmly whispers as she watches Raya's eyes light up with joy before nodding yes. 

Raya slowly shifts her posture so she's entirely sideways, throwing her legs over the armrest with a scrunch of her nose. She then felt as Namaari sat behind her before gently undoing the two braids on top of her head. She heard Namaari sigh as she ran her fingers through her braids, undoing them completely. That's when Raya felt her once tense shoulders relax under the touch of the other. She hummed before saying, "Thank you for this and saving my life."

"Saving your life was a team effort and part of the job, Dep La." Raya's felt her face insistently on fire, and she knew her cheeks were tinted in a deep red. 

"That's not what Atitaya said." Raya blurted before pressing both hands to her lips. 

Taken back, Namaari removed her hands from Raya's hair, raising an eyebrow. Is Raya also flirting with Atitaya? Is she stupid for sitting here and doing her hair when she's flirting with another? "You've been talking to Atitaya?" Namaari huffed as she grabbed her brush and began detangling the ends of Raya's hair. Trying to ignore the sting she's feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

Namaari put herself out there, and she's practically getting rejected... OR is she thinking too much into it?

Raya sighed before whispering, "Atitaya and Sisu were involved before my incident; I only found out about it once I woke up from surgery having caught them kissing." She chuckled before continuing, "Atitaya has been coming for an hour before her shifts to visit Sisi; you've come up once or twice."

Namaari smiled as her jealousy seemed to ease. That seems way more logical. However, she is still confused; she had to hear this from Raya and not Atitaya. "I call Atitaya my best friend, and I had no clue she was chasing Sisu--Good for them!" She chuckled, and she began to run the brush through the rest of Raya's hair. "What has she said about me?" She asked hesitantly. A part of her didn't want to know, but the curious side of her needed to know.

"Not much...But she did mention your battle with trust issues and that you looked extremely shattered, saving my life."  Raya shrugged her shoulders, "I've kinda clung to that, hoping it was true," she admitted in a whisper.

Namaari flinched, briefly surprised by the lack of confidence in Raya's tone. "I don't know what to say..." she confessed as she put the brush down, as she had fully untangled Raya's hair. Namaari watched as Raya's shoulder's resumed their previous tension before she pushed herself forward, moving away from her. "Like I can't explain why...or how..." Namaari announced before sighing, "I'm not good with expressing my feelings, but I'm here, and I'm trying."

Raya chuckled after hearing Namaari's weak confession, but she knew deep down it was just enough. 

In all fairness, Raya is not a flirt! Most of the time, women chase her, so she sits back and catches her prey without even needing to bat an eyelash. But four days ago, she was high on adrenaline and had an unknown amount of liquor in her system; The mixture of these two gave her the courage to put herself out there for the first time. Apparently, it worked, but she feared that Namaari wanted the confident and sensual Raya she met a few nights ago. 

How was Raya going to tell her?

Was Raya going to risk losing Namaari before she even had the chance to have her?

Yes, she would risk it all... because she wasn't going to start anything with Namaari based on a situational event. 

"Thank you for trying," Raya huffed before bringing her hands up to her face. "I need to be honest; The flirting and the confidence a few nights ago were effects from my 80 proof." Raya was prepared for Namaari to leave or laugh at her; instead, Namaari placed both her hands on Raya's shoulders, leaning closer. Raya could now feel Namaari's breath travel up and down her spine.

"This isn't new's to me; you wreaked of it. " Namaari answered, chuckling as she pulled away from Raya, watching the girl shiver as she did. "You give the alcohol a lot of credit; everything you say can be portrayed as flirting, and your confidence has only faltered once since I've been here." 

"Everything I said that night was honest, but sober me wouldn't have been so upfront with you," Raya admitted laughing as she moved her hands from her face placing them on her thighs. She wined once she felt Namaari's hands leave her shoulders but quickly relaxed when she felt her hands now on her scalp, gently massaging it before braiding it. "Just because I wouldn't expect you to reciprocate." 

Namaari gruffed, amused by that statement as she patiently started braiding Raya's hair into a loose french braid; to keep it out of her face and prevent it from getting tangled again. "I'm technically paid to reject patient advances politely, yet here I am. On my day off braiding your hair." 

"So, what made you come?" Raya reasked, hopeful Namaari had a better grasp of her emotions or was capable of identifying them.

Namaari finished the braid. She held it with her left hand while her right hand brought two elastics up to her mouth, stretching them before placing them on Raya's single braid. "What if," She admitted, which caught her off guard. She heard the other hum, sounding happy with the answer.

"What if is good. I can work with, what if." Raya felt her inner stress vanish. What if means different things to everyone but to Raya, this phrase brought hope. 

Namaari smiled as she let go of the other's hair. As the braid rested on her back, she realized the gown was loose. She couldn't see much, but what she did see were defined and muscular shoulder blades. She gulped, feeling heat redate through her body; she quickly shook her head, forcing herself out of her thoughts before they got sinful. She timidly brought her hands to the yarn of the gown before undoing it; she felt Raya stop breathing, and her body went still. So Namaari quickly tightened it before retying. She quickly pulled her hands away, yet Raya stayed still, and her breathing didn't resume. So she felt obligated to say, "Raya?" 

After a few seconds of forgetting how to function as a human being, Raya came back to earth as she heard Namaari say her name. How beautiful her name sounded rolling off Namaari's tongue. She could listen to her say her name all day. Raya rolled her eyes in pure embarrassment. She took a few deep breaths before humming in response. That was safer than speaking right now as she could still feel the warmth on the back of her neck where Namaari readjusted her gown. She could hear the other chuckle behind her as she cleared her throat to speak, "So Sisu mentioned something about you being a trauma nurse during the incident. Do you work here? At Kumandra Memorial?"

Raya rolled her shoulders before shifting her position. She slowly moved her legs off the armrest before turning her body to face Namaari. She now rested her lower back against the armrest as she lifted her left leg onto the couch bending it and pulling it closer to her torso. Her right leg was still dangling while she grabbed onto her left leg with her hands pulling it as close as humanely possible. Once Raya was comfortable, her eyes meet Namaari's. She couldn't help but smile when she felt her pulse increase and her palms moisten, all the while her stomach was experiencing immense fireworks. "Yes, I'm a nurse practitioner like yourself, but I'm specialized in trauma. And I technically don't work here yet."

Namaari raised her eyebrows as a slight grin appeared on her lips before speaking, "Technically? Elaborate!" She watched as Raya pressed her lips together, which sent Namaaris heart adrift with how gorgeous that small action looked.

"My father is a general in the five-nation military, so I enrolled when I turned 18. The military paid for my education, so I specialized in trauma to help injured soldiers. When I was 25, I resigned as a soldier but stayed in the military as a nurse. Three years later, I finally applied to work here, and they hired me quite rapidly..." Raya started as she found herself laughing. "Four days ago, Sisu, another friend of mine named Tong, and I went to a bar to celebrate my new job. The rest is history." 

Namaari felt her jaw fall as she gasped before looking Raya up and down. "You're a military nurse? That's wow," Namaari wanted to say hot. The realization Raya doesn't only wear scrubs, but she uses military uniforms. Or she was hoping she still did because that would be very attractive. "What a funny coincidence! I've never been part of the military, but my mother is a training sergeant. I was raised and trained as a soldier, and I lived on the Fang base growing up. You know before the war that united all the lands," Namaari stated as she unknowingly leaned her face closer to Raya. That's when she noticed a tattoo on Raya's left upper ankle. Two thin, solid black lines with an inch of space between them. In the middle of the two lines was a joyful grinning face with blush and a headband. Overall, it appeared to be a band tattoo with negative space. What initially caught her attention was the somewhat small mandala art within it. Raya must have seen her staring at it because she gently moved her foot, causing her to notice a font,

"Be Brave, Be Strong, Never Waiver," Raya stated as Namaari read the ink engraved on her skin. "My Ba said those words to me as he left for war when I was 12. I've lived by them ever since." Raya smiled, looking at Namaari's wonder-filled eyes. "Wait, you haven't noticed my tattoo's" Raya blurted as Namaari looked at her and nodded no. Raya chuckled as she brought her right hand up, showing her the wrist. She had tattooed her family's heirloom: a wavy sword with a Susiduatu, the dragon where the blade meets the handle; It was small but her favorite tattoo. Namaari chuckled as, with her right hand, she unclasped the watch on her left hand. Once the watch was gone, a tattoo of two daggers was visible: crossed upon each other. 

Namaari watched as a smile wide from ear to ear plastered on Raya's face. She then watched as Raya reached her right hand to gently brush the skin on her left wrist, making her gulp in nervousness. She brought her gaze back to Raya's knee and the arm grasping it; that's when she noticed another band tattoo, this time on Raya's left bicep. It was a slighter ticker solid black line and in the middle was a tattooed gem in a light blue. Namaari snickered as she was also hiding a bicep tattoo under her white coat; she would wait to tell her, or rather, show her. Namaari wanted Raya to want her for more than her muscular physique. "Do you have any more hidden somewhere?" she said, raising an eyebrow scanning Raya's body respectfully! To this, Raya grinned.

"Wouldn't you like to know! I guess you'll have to wait and see," Raya said, biting her bottom lip as her face leaned closer to Namaari. Her right hand gently massaging Norse code's into Namaari left palm. 

Namaari felt completely smitten by Raya's. And this feeling only intensified as she felt the other gently writing letters onto the palm of her hand. She wanted to look down at her hand because it was currently sending electricity through her body, but she kept her gaze on Raya. That's when she noticed her coffee eyes appeared to have a hint of gold, or was she imagining that? She was taken out of her thoughts as she saw Raya lean forward, so she also leaned in without putting too much thought into the action.

Their faces were inches apart, and they could feel each other breaths on each other's skin. Raya closed her eyes, allowing the kiss to be up to Namaari. Namaari licked her lips before closing her eyes to close the gap.

Knock. Knock. 

Namaari jumped back as Raya stayed in her previous position opening her eyes. Namaari was flustered, and Raya seemed more amused than embarrassed; she just chucked before speaking. "Come in"

"Hello, I'm Trinh. I'm from dining. Can you please state your full name and birthday, please?" A kitchen staff member said as he walked into the room with a tray of food. Namaari, still quite embarrassed, looks away, trying to hide the brush slowly creeping its way onto her cheeks. Raya's right hand fully resting on Namaari's left hand. Raya looked at Namaari briefly before returning her gaze to the new presence in the room.

Was Namaari going to kiss her?

"Hello Trinh, my full name is Raya Hart..."

--

7/30/21 : I intended to post part four today but life is crazy. I have’t had the chance to finish it. It should posted before 8/03. Long story short: I will not have my laptop this weekend where I comfortably write. SORRY for the wait in advance!

[sims2bellaswan]

Fascinating [Childe | Tartaglia x Reader]

[TW: STALKING, DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE] [SFW]

AO3 VERSION

After a monumental loss, Tartaglia becomes fascinated with you. [AFAB reader]

Here, you stood before the 11th Harbinger, Tartaglia. In a cold, stone chamber, echoing the gentle sound of water and scented with the smells of soft moss and rotting wood. Your shoes clicked on the cobble almost hesitantly.

“Oh, no! Please, don’t hesitate for my sake, you were doing so well.” The smile he wore was laced into his voice. “You killed the fatui agents, yes?”

All you could manage was a nod, then a thick swallow. Your nerves ran wild. You weren’t prepared to fight him. Trying to relax, you moved from your ready position to a casual stand, the grip on your weapon loosening ever so slightly. You’ve learnt on more than one occasion that frayed nerves lead to a loss.

“Good, good! Then, you’ll be quite the challenge.” Beyond the cheery voice was something different. Something malicious that knew you’d fail.

He knew he’d prove victorious. If the mighty beasts and monsters of the underground couldn’t kill him, what made you think you could? You were weak, it was humorous to even attempt.

No, he wanted to prove to you, specifically, that he was the superior warrior. This game of cat and mouse the two of you had been playing grew boring at this point. He let you catch him here. He wanted to see if you had it in you. To see if you had the guts to give your all.

The battle ended unceremoniously. Routinely boring. You had given it your all, clearly that wasn’t enough. It certainly wasn’t enough for him.

Enough time had passed where you had eventually gotten over your complete defeat. Your bruises faded from a deep purple to yellow, the gashes in your muscles healed well, which you thanked medicinal herbs for. You had new scars, blooming red holes from the arrows that pierced the little armor you had then. But, you knew they would fade with time too. Thankfully, you remained emotionally unaffected from the battle. Sure, it sucked to lose but you knew that if you kept up your hard work, it wouldn’t happen again.

The same could not be said for Tartaglia or rather, Childe, as he was known outside of ‘business’ related circles. He won; normally, he’d move on and find bigger baddies to bully.

Normally, he wouldn’t feel a need to keep an eye on you.

In the first week following your battle, it began as scientific curiosity. He was far more interested in who you trained with than what you did in your free time. Until, he reasoned with himself, it became necessary to look out for you in your free time.

Weeks grew into months of simply studying. Learning your go-to moves by watching you train, knowing how you’d respond by eavesdropping on your conversations. Your group was nothing to bat an eye at, not nearly as interesting as you proved to be.

Waiting for the perfect moment to approach you was probably one of the most stressful moments of his life. You were always with someone, whether it be that levitating, little woman or one of your teammates. They all seemed fiercely protective of you and despite his need to lord himself over you again, he didn’t need their heat as well.

The sun filtered down through the clouds, offering little warmth in the cooling day. You weren’t training or off doing quests for the Knights. Nor, were you with your damned team or that little lady. Now was perfect. Leaving his hiding spot, where he had quietly noted every movement of yours, he dashed to catch up to you.

“You know, wolves run around all over this area.” His arm snaked over your shoulder. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

You froze for a moment before breaking away from his grip and readying your weapon. There was a silent moment of growing tension between the two of you.

He laughed, not even bothering to match your energy. “I only came to offer a rematch!” He held up his hands in defense. “I beat you so mercilessly, I felt bad afterwards.”

You relaxed, standing back up and sheathing your sword. “What are the terms?” You were nothing if not careful, he liked that about you.

“You’re on your way to Snezhnaya, yes?” He began walking, which you had to scramble to keep up with. “I’ll meet you there, we rematch then.” Turning on his heel, he walked backwards to get a good look at your reaction. “My turf, my rules.”

Your face fell, annoyed that you’d have to follow along with whatever dirty tricks Tartaglia had planned for you. “Fine.” You gripped the strap of your bag as you walked. “But, I reserve the right to decline if I don’t like your rules.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport.” He grinned, waving to you. “See you there!” And, off he went.

The journey to Snezhnaya was cold, which was the only word you could come up with to match how you felt. Snow fluttered down and stuck in piles around the path. Little wildflowers, shining with a blue sheen in the winter sun, frame the signposts and fences. Your fingers felt like they were going to fall off.

Meeting with Tartaglia wasn’t as cold, in fact, the inn was pleasantly warm. The two of you held a comfortable silence for a moment before beginning your discussion, quietly drinking your tea while he took a quick shot of some clear wine. He said it would warm you up but you declined.

The terms of your rematch were as follows, this is what you agreed to: The two of you would rematch exactly as you did the first time, weapons and all. No teammates, no tag-ins, which was good because your team didn’t accompany you to Snezhnaya. No dirty moves, but hand to hand was permitted. Unlike your first fight, it wasn’t life or death.

“What happens when one of us loses?” You stir honey into your tea.

He grinned, he had been waiting for you to ask after all. “If you win, I will beg you to be gracious enough to train me.”

“And if I lose?”

“If you lose, I want to train you.” Which essentially means, he will get to be by your side either way. And, he knows he won’t lose. While the fight itself is fair in every sense of the word, Tartaglia has done his homework. He’s studied you since you lost the first time, but you didn’t need to know that.

“Train me in your dirty fighting style? I think not.” You sneered slightly, not worried about how rude you came off.

“Dirty?” He acted mock-offended. “I won fair and square.” He found himself enthralled in your bitterness.

Beyond the agreement, you two continued in light banter. He found it delightful to get to actually speak with you. Watching you pour yourself glass after glass to give yourself a reason to ignore his prying questions. You powered through until you retired for the night, the real battle would be the next morning.

Here, you stood before the 11th Harbinger. Tartaglia’s cockiness became almost tangible as he strut about the arena, awaiting your ready.

The cold cobblestone would shiver beneath you if it could. You did shiver, painful tears pricking at your eyes when the wind picked up. Your knuckles whitened as your grip on your sword tightened. Knees bent, you readied.

You were able to dodge the first few arrows, much to Tartaglia’s discontent. “You’ve gotten better, girlie!” You lunge forward and he uses it as a chance to pull you in.

Inches from your nose, his breath warms your cheeks. He opens his mouth to say something but you pull away before he can put it together.

Running a hand through his hair, he readies another arrow. Pulling, letting go, hitting you in the arm. It lodged itself in your muscle, right in the gap between your armors. You pull in a tight breath, then continue with your stance.

Swallowing the pain is the hardest part. His arrows feel barbed when they rip through your skin and plant themselves in your flesh. You break the arrow at the base, if you pulled it out, you’d bleed out sooner.

Tartaglia sees this as another window of opportunity. “Nevermind, I think you’ve gotten worse.” He taunts you. He doesn’t actually think this. If he hadn’t done his homework so well, you would’ve taken him by surprise. That’s something that doesn’t happen often. “Though, I’ve seen you train.” He has the upper hand here.

“Do you hold yourself back when we fight?” You break his train of thought. “Because you’re doing an awful lot of chatting.” He didn’t chat nearly this much the first time you two met. You grimaced. Your arm hurt.

“Not anymore.” He smiled, dashing towards you. His elbow rips through the air and hits square on your shoulder, opposite the arrow wound. Breath escapes you. “You know, I wondered if you were holding back.” His foot keeps you to the ground, you think you might puke. “But, when I saw you train, you were sloppy.”

“Saw me train?” You gasped out, chest heaving. The cold air felt too thin to breath.

“Among other things.”

“I win.” His foot removed, he held out his hand. Waiting, patiently, for you to take it, hoist yourself up. You never took it. He wasn’t offended.

In fact, it invigorated him. He takes a knee over you. “I can’t quite figure out why I do the things I do.” He grabs your jaw. “You cast some spell on me. All I can think about is you.”

[oneofyatosfollowers]

The Tracksuited Vampire

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34228975

Fanfic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13965486/1/The-Tracksuited-Vampire

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Hiyori was never one to break the rules. She’s never stolen anything, ate all her vegetables, and passed all her tests. There was one rule that Hiyori has made a habit of breaking on a daily basis: her curfew. A year ago, the high school student wouldn’t dream of sneaking out of her room at dusk to skip across town and hang out with the undead. But now it was such a habit Hiyori found the daytime to be a little jarring. Thankfully, ‘the undead’ in this case was not zombies or ghosts but with a race that humanity believed to only exist in stories.

“Good evening, Hiyori!” Daikoku greeted as he opened the door. The girl nodded to the undead-human, his complexion looking paler than it’s usual ivory.

“Good evening,” Hiyori gave a short bow, “may I come in?” She didn’t have to ask- she wasn’t the one who couldn’t enter homes without permission- but Hiyori had come to learn it was polite among this type of company.

“Of course,” Daikoku nodded. Moving aside, Daikoku let Hiyori enter the home, her clothes a sharp contrast from the perky, romantic gothic interior decorations the home had. At the pink glass table, shaped like a cross, sat a young woman with curly pink hair and lips painted in blood.

“Hiyori!” Kofuku sat up. No, the creatures that have been living amongst humans- the ones Hiyori made her friends in- were vampires. The kind that sucked blood, transformed, and held special powers unique to their individual. They were also the kind of creature that could transform humans into their servants under the right conditions.

“Aaht! Aaht!” Daikoku chided, “face!” He gestured to the red around the young lady’s mouth. Kofuku let out a giggle and reached for a lacy napkin on the table, slightly embarrassed.

“Oops, sorry!” She said, wiping the blood from her face. Hiyori just smiled and rolled her eyes, already desensitized to such eating habits. She didn’t have to look to know Daikoku sported two fresh puncture wounds on his neck. Such is the trade of being brought back to life by his master. Speaking of master and servant.

“Are Yato and Yukine awake yet? I have Yukine’s homework graded,” Hiyori patted her bag, holding the eternal teen’s assignments.

“They should be gettin up soon. Yukine has training tonight,” Daikoku said.

“Ah that’s right! I’ll go wake them.” Hiyori smiled, putting her things down.

“Oh, you sure you want to do that Hiyori?” Kofuku grinned, “they cleaned up a lot of corrupt souls last night. Yatty will probably wake up hungry.” She intoned, leaning across the table on one elbow. Kofuku’s smile revealed her sharp canines that matched Yato’s, short compared to the length those twin needles could grow. Despite the trust Hiyori had in these people, she still swallowed thickly at the sight, not knowing what it felt like to be pierced.

“Stop that, don’t scare her,” Daikoku huffed, “Yato has Yukine now and he’s hardly the man-eater he used to be.” The servant shrugged. Hiyori gave them a nod before making her way up the stairs to the attic her friends made their home in. She knocked on the door lightly before peeking into the pitch black room. On the floor was a nice futon, empty, so Hiyori forced a little more of her body in. Towards the back of the room was a ramshackle coffin, spray painted black with a gold crown where the cross should be, empty. Taking another step, Hiyori squinted to try and make out if anyone was actually in the room, until a subtle movement caught her eye.

“Goodmorning, Yato,” Hiyori whispered, giving him a wave. Dangling from a wooden beam, a pitch black megabat shuffled its wings. Yato peaked at her with light blue eyes like snow globes, squinting at the hallway light from down a fox-like snout.

“Oh sorry,” Hiyori closed the door as much as she could. She smiled as the bat chirped and squeaked softly, rubbing his wings over his eyes. Leaving the door where it is, Hiyori went to stand under the vampire, footsteps just as quiet as her voice. Bats had such delicate hearing after all.

“I have Yukine’s homework, could you wake him up please?” Hiyori asked softly. Yato blinked at her once then shuffled around again. Eventually his wings unfolded to reveal a tiny blonde bat clinging to his master's stomach, asleep in the black fur.

“Yukine held his transformation while sleeping,” Hiyori gasped quietly, “that’s wonderful!” Her excitement was met with a louder chirp before Yato got to waking Yukine up. His snout nuzzled the smaller one’s head, licking and nipping, until Yukine let out a groggy squawk. The servant was clearly upset with being woken up but Yato quickly clicked to him and explained the situation. Finally, Yukine looked down at her, his bat form having a pushed up nose and large ribbed ears. He gave a chirp in greeting before Hiyori raised the back of her hand. Yukine’s golden eyes narrowed and he tucked his legs and wings under him, body swaying as he judged the distance. Yato was watching him, chirping out orders and suggestions. After a couple of long seconds, Yukine leapt off his master’s stomach and half glided, half struggled his way through the air until he crashed into Hiyori’s hand.

“That was a good try, Yukine,” Hiyori offered, helping him onto her palm. The bat, a puff ball just bigger than her hand, let out a huff of frustration. Now Yato’s chirping was much louder, sounding more like light chastising, which Yukine returned in kind.

“Now, now, Yukine, let’s go over your homework,” Hiyori said. Making her way to the door, the air around Hiyori was suddenly whipped around, blowing her hair across her face and eyes.

“Yato!” Hiyori shouted over the loud flapping right next to her ear, “warn me before you use me as a landing perch!” Her pleas were ignored as she felt hooked feet latch onto her shoulder and a weight push her down. Yukine was shouting at Yato while Yato chirped back happily. It occurred to Hiyori that maybe Yato’s previous sounds were directed at her. She sighed as she walked the two bickering bats down the stairs.

“Can’t you walk down the stairs yourself? Lazy bastard, don’t make a highschool girl carry you down!” Daikoku immediately hollered when they entered the room. It took the two bats a couple seconds to adjust to the lights again before Yato just squawked and swooped towards the table.

“Come off it, Daikoku. Hiyori’s a tough girl,” Yato said as he transformed and took a seat at the table. The man was still in his pajamas and Hiyori could only guess Yukine was the same. She sat down and held her hand steady as Yukine climbed onto the table, his movements much more graceful in this form than a month ago.

“Yuki! You stayed in your form this whole time!” Kofuku praised, scratching under Yukine’s chin.

“Nice job kid!” Daikoku chimed in. Yukine thanked them with cute little chirps, shuffling his body so that he was sitting up better.

“Now you just have to shift back,” Kofuku said lightly. The room went quiet as they watched Yukine with supportive smiles. The tiny bat’s body shook as Yukine squeezed his eyes shut.

“Remember your breathing,” Yato offered after a couple seconds of nothing. Yukine let out harsh, rapid breaths from his pig nose that eventually slowed. The transformation was rather slow compared to the others and looked to be painful and required a ton of thought, but eventually a short, blonde teenager was sitting at the table.

“Good job!” Yato smiled.

“That was excellent Yukine! You didn’t pause once!” Kofuku added. The teen was hunched over the table, out of breath and sweaty, but smiling with pride.

“That was good, Yukine,” Hiyori complimented. By now, Daikoku set breakfast on the table, Yato and Kofuku digging in.

“Thanks,” Yukine replied, forking some pancakes onto a plate. Their breakfast continued as Hiyori politely had a bowl of late-night cereal. Her and Yukine went over his homework from that morning. Since Hiyori was out of school for the summer, and vampires were awake from sunset to sun-high, most of Yukine’s work was done right when they woke up. That way Yato and Yukine could train for the rest of the night and go on patrol by sunrise.

“So what are you doing for training today?” Daikoku asked.

“Tower.” Yato stated.

“No,” Yukine slammed his fork down.

“Ooo the tower!” Kofuku gushed, “that’s where I brought Daikoku!”

“And that only worked because I practiced properly beforehand.” Daikoku tacked on with a roll of his eyes.

“Exactly,” Yukine said.

“And you did practice properly beforehand but now it’s time you learned by the tower,” Yato pointed with his fork, “you already know all the flight positions and techniques, you just need to put them into practice.” He insisted. Yukine groaned while the rest of the table gave him sympathetic smiles and shoulder pats.

Hiyori clenched her chopsticks in apprehension as she eyed the terror that was weaved deep into Yukine’s expression. After all, a human could only become a servant to a pure-blooded vampire after certain conditions were met. Condition one was that the vampire had to be willing to tie the human’s life to theirs. The second was that the human had to be on the brink of death but still able to give the tiniest hint of consent. And the third condition- the one that had Hiyori the most uncomfortable- was that the human had to have brought themselves to death's door willingly. There was a reason Yukine feared flying, feared heights when he wasn’t clinging to Yato, and it was from a moment in his life he was at his lowest. In his own words, Yukine said he simply jumped from a place that wasn’t high enough. Yato smelled his blood, heard his dying soul calling out to be saved, and the rest was history.

Even so, a couple hours later, Hiyori followed Yato and Yukine out of town to the middle of nowhere. Apparently ‘the tower’ was an old stone cylinder that reached above the surrounding trees with a single door and a winding staircase. The top was empty with a simple mini fence preventing non-flying people from falling. Since they were in such company, Yato and Yukine walked with Hiyori up the stairs to the top, the blonde reluctant with every step. At the top, Hiyori realized the building was much higher than it looked. The wind tugged at her hair and clothes and Hiyori subconsciously wrapped her arms around herself, looking at the two with uncertainty.

“Yato, are you sure this is the best thing for flying?” She asked. Back in his ratty tracksuit, Yato waved his hand at her.

“Yes, the adrenaline and gravity are good for learning how to fly. Why do you think birds do it?”

“I am not a baby bird.” Yukine glared over his shoulder. He was leaning over the railing, looking grimmly at the ground. Hiyori came to join him and looked at the very distant, very hard ground below.

“Are you sure this is-?”

“Yes.” Yato suddenly scooped Yukine by his armpits.

“Transform.” Yato held Yukine over the side, meeting his wide eyes steadily. Yukine gulped then transformed slowly. Mid-way Yato released him, sending the kid plummeting through the air.

“Yato!” Hiyori shouted in alarm. She ran to the ledge and gripped the railing, leaning over with wide eyes as she watched the tiny body plummet towards the ground. Yukine wings beat at the air frantically, his body spriling, as his screeches echoed throughout the night.

“Yato, save him!” Hiyori looked at her friend. The vampire was beside her, calmly watching his kid fall with an intense gaze.

“Yukine needs this. He already knows how to use spells, which are supposed to come after flight.”

“That’s not the point Yato! What if he gets hurt?”

“He won’t. He knows what to do, the gravity and adrenaline will help him.”

“But this is-!”

“This is how I learned.” Yato stated. Hiyori’s mouth worked uselessly as she tried to gauge Yato’s blank face. His eyes hadn’t left Yukine for a moment, not even to blink, and Hiyori had to look back down. Yukine was much closer to the ground now, righted in a way that had him feet first, but the panicked flapping of his wings was only slowing his fall. His shrieking was more desperate, fearful, and Hiyori’s hands were starting to shake. Her head whipped back to the vampire-ready to toss him off the building herself- and she gasped. Yato was leaning over the railing. The hands grasping the wood were talons that could cut through anything, covered in darkened skin and fur. Behind him, large wings stretched soundlessly from his shoulder blades, reaching up towards the sky and eclipsing the moon. She watched the tip of his nose darken as hair grew up the bridge but Hiyori couldn’t bring herself to breathe his name. His eyes glowed as he continued to lean further over the edge, muscles bunching to jump.

Yato allowed Yukine to fall for two more, excruciately long, seconds before he shot off the tower in a blurr. The vampire was enveloped in shadow for a moment before the magic dissipated, leaving behind a plummeting bat. Yato's wings flapped with controlled purpose as he let gravity do the work, catching up the flailing blonde bat quickly. In one graceful movement, Yato pulled up just above Yukine, using his talons to gently grab the boy and let the momentum swing them back up into the air. Yato flew up high above Hiyori’s head and then slammed on the brakes, flinging Yukine further up into the sky. As the boy continued to panic on his rollercoaster ride, Yato screeched up at him, hovering while Yukine tried again.

“Yukine! Yato!” Hiyori tried calling them. Neither of them paid her mind as Yukine fell once more, this time even slower as his wings started beating in time. Then, once again, Yato gilded towards him in large dives. Picking Yukine up and bringing him higher, then letting him go. For the first couple attempts, it didn’t seem to work too well, but Hiyori continued to hear Yato’s chatter as he gave directions. Yukine quieted down and focused on his progress now that he knew Yato wasn’t going to let him hit the ground. Eventually, Yukine found himself able to hover in one spot and then shifted to copying Yato as they swooped down in large U-shapes. With a smile, Hiyori ran down the stairs as Yukine let the momentum of his falls take him up until he slowed to a hover, then dove back down. By the time she made it off the tower, Yato was transformed again with Yukine flying a foot off the grass.

“Yukine! You did it! Look at you!” Hiyori ran over. The tiny yellow bat squeaked happily as his wings continued to pump frantically.

“Yeah, see? I knew you could do it,” Yato winked down at his kid, “now you just gotta work on changing directions. Especially going up.” At his words Hiyori realized Yukine was stuck at the height he was at and she tried to give him encouragement. He flapped too much and tumbled backwards.

“Lean forward, just like in practice, push the wind down.” Yato reminded. Yukine gave it his best shot but ended up leaning too far forward and went into the grass, tripping on his feet.

“That was a good try, Yukine,” Hiyori bent over to scoop him up. She hardly lifted him past the waist when he scurried off her hand and jumped back into the air. Hiyori yelped and Yato laughed as Yukine only spun once before catching himself. He hovered and started screeching at Yato, the vampire taking his time transforming into a bat and hovering too. Hiyori took a tiny step back as Yato gave quick instructions and demonstrated directions. Together they leaned one way, then the other, then up and down. Eventually Yukine was fluttering around Hiyori as happy as a bumblebee.

“I’d say your beginner's training is just about complete. Congratulations kiddo,” Yato said, back on his two legs. Yukine hovered for a moment, staring at him, before he flew over and fluttered around Yato’s head. At first Hiyori thought Yato was getting scratched again, but Yukine harmlessly bumped against Yato’s head.

“Now you’ll never have to worry about falling again. Proud of you,” Yato muttered quietly, one eye closed while his servant fluttered against his hair.

“Me too,” Hiyori stepped closer and offered a smile. Finally tuckered out, Yukine perched himself on Yato’s shoulder.

“Guess we better head home before we head out for patrol,” Yato sighed as he pat Yukine’s head with his finger.

“What right now?” Hiyori blinked. This was the time they hung out and if they planned on working until noon they would be hunting for several hours. With a sigh, Yato started walking with Hiyori at his side.

“There’s been a spike in corrupt souls lately. That’s normal for the summer time, young pure-bloods tend to be more active in warmer weather. But humans can’t become servants if the conditions aren't met. Forcing it just corrupts them. Not that young bloods know that, nor care.” Yato muttered the last part with disdain.

“I see,” Hiyori looked to the grass, “so they drink the blood of humans and it corrupts them?”

“Not exactly. You can drink the blood of a human and it’ll be fine but young bloods can't control their powers so they accidentally force their will on regular humans which is unnatural. If you force your power on a human it's best to drain them dry, but they’re young and have no control so they don’t properly sedate the victim, or let go too early, or their power just leaks through. There’s countless reasons for these crazy humans running around.” Yato said, “not to worry though. Once the cold season comes back the weaker ones will go into hibernation. Then us old farts devour them, absorb their power, and the cycle continues.” When he noticed Hiyori’s worried face, he immediately backtracked and apologised. She waved him off, too busy sorting through her complicated feelings.

Of course she was naturally opposed to the blood drinking, the manipulation, the corruption. But Hiyori also knew that drinking blood was such a sacred act to vampires. It was eating, sure. Something some did offhandedly to survive, while others were gluttonous, and the rest connoisseurs. An act of bringing food to a party, or as an offering, or having red wine on date. Food was a staple that their culture revolved around with it’s own rules and manners; what families did to be closer. The simple act that could completely change one's mood. Killing humans was taboo for vampires and drinking their blood was seen as distasteful and primal. But everyone knew it happened behind closed doors as a scandalous activity.

Yato was known for ‘sucking humans dry’ as he put it. His previous servants leaving him because he was greedy when it came to blood, rough and relentless when taking it. Like all vampires, his power made it so that it wasn’t painful. But it was the principal. That was why he rarely took blood from his current servant and stuck to the supplements, much to Yukine’s chagrin. The teen insisted he could handle it, that he trusted Yato not to leave him pale and passed out, but Yato was stubborn. Hiyori knew he often went long periods without a servant and therefore without food (he was considerably weaker during those times, small and pale with sunken eyes as he sometimes still got). But still, despite all that, Hiyori couldn’t stand knowing Yato was going hungry every day. Against all her instincts she wanted to offer herself to him.

“Welp! That’s why we have our servants!” Yato patted Yukine again, “human spells are something else! Cleansing corruption as the bridge between our species. Such talent,” Yato said. Yukine chirped at the shameless praise and his friends smiled. Hiyori relaxed at the reminder of Yukine’s other- more wholesome- job. It wasn’t a kind process but the results were worth it.

“Speaking of,” Yato suddenly stopped, tone dark, eyes narrowed. Stumbling to a halt, Hiyori sucked in a breath, looking around the woods. They were so close to the city, the streetlights across the road shining through the trees. It illuminated the silhouette stumbling towards them, gleaming off the knife the man held in his hand. Yato stepped in front of Hiyori, taking Yukine off his shoulder and handing him to her. Yukine shrieked at his master while Hiyori breathed his name.

“Blood. Blood! I need blood,” the man said like a mantra, “I want to see it spill.” He insisted as he swayed closer to them, drunkenly focused on Hiyori.

“Both of us are unarmed. But I’ll hold him off and try to sedate him while Yukine transforms,” Yato looked at him, “I know you’re tired, but do your best. Don’t force it otherwise you’ll cause damage to your body and mind.”

“Let me see it! Let me have it! I’ll spill your blood!” The man roared and started to charge. Yato was much faster and the attacker was only able to take two steps before being knocked back several feet. It wasn’t enough to kill him, Yato promised he would never do that in front of these two, but unless he broke some bones the man would continue to come after Hiyori.

As Yato advanced, Hiyori dropped to her knees and let Yukine down. Yato would be able to handle himself against this person, but a corrupted human was stronger than normal and didn’t care about pain. If they made too much of a commotion, someone would notice, and Yato could only sedate a person a couple times before they built immunity. The vampire wouldn’t take any blood either, so it was impossible to weaken him and strengthen Yato. In the grass, the tiny gold bat was breathing rapidly. Little body rising and falling far too quickly. Yukine’s frantic eyes looked up to her own, ears constantly twitching at the sounds of the scuffle behind him.

“C-calm down, Yukine,” Hiyori parroted Yato, “remember your breathing!” It helped a little. Yukine’s panting shifted to more controlled breathing, in through his upturned nose and out the fanged mouth. It still took several long seconds for Yukine to even begin transforming. The kid had talent, spells and transformation came after long years as a servant, and he was able to do far more than most. But even so, Yukine was still new and inexperienced. His transformation was slow and painful, shadows sliding off him like thick ink in splotches, and leaving him winded and dizzy. When he fell forward, Hiyori was there to catch him.

“Are you okay? Don’t force yourself,” Hiyori said. She looked up just in time to see Yato kneeling over the man. Despite his pointed ears and nails, Yato gave the man a regular punch across the face. The man’s smile remained as his head whipped to the side and his hands continued to claw at Yato’s face. Eventually he kicked Yato’s leg and tried to run, only to be tackled by the vampire, knife slicing Yato’s shoulder. The vampire’s white t-shirt was stained with bright crimson as it dripped down his biceps. The scent of his master’s blood jolted Yukine out of his lull and he sat back up. The sudden movement caused Yukine to sway again and his finger kneaded his head, Hiyori’s hands hovering with concern.

“I can do it,” Yukine grunted, “I can squeeze out one or two spells.” He forced himself to his feet. Hiyori watched him worryingly before her head whipped to the side. Her wide and fearful eyes met the man as he sprinted towards her, one arm twisted and broken while saliva seeped from his smile.

“I smell it! The blood of a pure soul! Give it to me! The priestess's blood!” His hollar caused Hiyori to gasp and for Yukine to remain frozen like a deer in headlight. Something emerged behind him, leaping up into the air with clawed hands poised on either side of their prey’s head. Yato’s eyes, glowing blue like ice in the arctic waters, were the only thing Hiyori could make out in the blurred shadow of his form. The man was sent harshly to the ground, the force of Yato’s pounce cracking the man’s spine. That was enough to cause the man to cry out.

“Yato!” Hiyori shouted, fearing permanent paralysis. She was ignored as Yato snarled down at the squirming human.

“You won’t be getting a drop of her blood,” he seethed, fangs bared. At her side, Yukine bit his fore-finger and smeared the blood to the second finger. Pointing them both at the man, Yukine began muttering out a spell. While the man struggled beneath him, Yato opened his mouth wide and worked to reveal the jugular.

“The blood! I need it! The blood of that pure maiden!” The corrupt soul continued to rage. He fought so violently under Yato that the vampire struggled to keep him pinned and reveal his neck. Yato leaned down, teeth bared, but the man suddenly reared back and cracked the back of his skull against his nose.

“Son of a-!” Yato cursed. By now, Yukine’s spell was completed without the help of his master and all the effort was shattered in the air around them. Yukine hissed at the impact and the excretion while Yato clutched his bleeding nose. Ceasing the opportunity, the man lunged with maniacal laughter, mouth open towards Hiyori. The girl fell back and brought her fists up, ready to clock the lunatic. But Yato’s clawed hand wrapped around the man’s face, his nails digging into the man's cheek, holding him just inches from Hiyori.

Through her fear, Hiyori watched Yato’s terrifying slit eyes shoot out from behind the man, the whites of his fangs flashing before they sunk into his flesh. Finally the man’s echolalia was silenced as he choked. The sound of Yato’s fangs sliding through flesh caused Hiyori’s hands to shake. The man went limp and still, his eyes open and glazed. Yato held him there like a predator preparing to snap the neck of its prey, the whites of his eyes turning pitch black. His servant’s fingers were pointed, shaking with fatigue, as Yukine finally casted the spell. Whatever sinister corruption the man carried evaporated and Yato finally released him. Together, the three gave a collected sigh of relief.

“It’s finally over,” Yukine slurred. He was really starting to sway now, just as the corrupt soul had been, only the servant’s eyes were hazy and already starting to close. Yato caught him before he fell too far.

“Yukine!” Hiyori fretted. It’s been a while since Yukine had fainted from exerting too much power.

“He must still be tired from transforming so much in the past couple hours. Then again he’s only able to cast about four spells when he’s at his best.” Yato rolled Yukine over in his arms so the kid was face up. Eyes closed and mouth open, Yukine’s feet dragged on the ground while Yato supported him. The vampire's expression was back to the soft features Hiyori was used to as Yato cut his wrist and pressed the blood against Yukine’s lips. When the kid drank enough, Yato situated Yukine on his back and let Yukine’s head rest on his shoulder.

“We should head back. I don’t think there’s gonna be patrol tonight.” Yato said. Hiyori hummed, following the vampire back to Kofuku’s while the man remained passed out in the grass.

“Is there a reason you’re pushing him so hard?” Hiyori asked after some time. Maybe she was just a human with no idea of vampire timeframes. But Yato always seemed like the type to let Yukine have free reign of his studies and progression. It was out of character for Yato to push Yukine to do something he was so scared of.

“Yukine will always be afraid of falling. It was traumatizing for him. He needed a push, one that I rather give him in a controlled environment. It would be bad if he got tossed during a battle and couldn’t catch himself.”

“Who would throw him?” Hiyori gasped. Yato didn’t answer for a moment, then signed.

“My hibernation is next summer,” Yato muttered.

“What? You?” Hiyori asked just as quietly. It was a taboo secret to talk about a vampires hibernation time.

“All vampires do it. Just depends on how powerful you are. The more servants you have to take blood from, the longer you can run on their power. I sleep every 50-70 years, give or take, Kofuku sleeps about the same if not a little more. Meanwhile Tenjin and Bishamon sleep every century or so,” Yato explained, “normally I go into hiding but Yukine insisted he could handle it. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but I don’t want him fighting off other vampires and servants. No matter how strong he thinks he is.” Yato frowned at the ground, shifting the boy on his back. Hiyori looked down too, aware of how much the praise fueled Yukine's confidence. But it was impossible for a servant to go up against a vampire.

“He sleeps in your coffin when you’re gone,” Hiyori spoke with melancholy, “Are you staying at Kofuku’s then?”

“I’m gonna have to. It’s embarrassing but I do trust her not to eat me. And Daikoku to help make sure others stay away. Otherwise Bishamon offered since I’m the last person she’d want blood from. Plus she has more than enough servants to give me my own army. So who knows? I just want to get it over with, the year before my sleep is always so weak and groggy. Doesn’t make being hungry any better.” Yato muttered the last parts but Hiyori only hummed.

“How long, uh,” Hiyori felt a little sad, “how long will you be gone?” She ignored the way Yato looked at her. He nudged her and smiled.

“Just a season!” He chirped.

“What? That’s it?”

“Yep! Three moon cycles! My most vulnerable time,” Yato said, “I just wish I was around to see the cherry blossoms with you. It’s a shame I got Yukine so close to my time.” He mourned. Hiyori placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll take pictures.” She promised. Yato beamed, fangs tucked away where they were almost unnoticed.

“Oh! And try not to bother Yukine too much! He’s gonna be a little feral during my hibernation, it’s natural, but don’t push it!” Yato smiled, unaware of Hiyori's balking.

“You’re home early, oh my gosh Yuki!” Kofuku looked over the servant worriedly. She was out of her pajamas and in a black dress with a tiered skirt and lace sleeves. In her hands was a matching fan, a gift from Daikoku, and she dropped it on the table. At the sound of her worry, said man peaked out from the kitchen.

“He used too much energy,” Yato let his hand rest on Yukine’s head, “it was my fault. I pushed him.”

“No ya didn’t,” Daikoku sighed, “and he’d throw a fit if he heard you say that.”

“Yeah, well, he’s already gonna throw a fit when he wakes up,” Yato grumbled, “I’ll put him in my coffin.” He nodded to them and made his way up the stairs. Hiyori took the time to recount everything that happened before following her friend to the attic. Gently, Hiyori pushed open the door just in time to see Yato laying Yukine down into the bed. He shuffled around the kid and pulled out two swords, weapons like Kofuku’s fan made up of the master and servant. It helped attack the corruption inside a human but it could never kill it completely. Standing, Yato left the lid open and made his way towards her.

“You okay?” He asked awkwardly, not able to look her in the eyes but searching her intently for injury.

“It’s okay,” Hiyori smiled, “I’m okay. What about you?” Her eyes drifted to his shoulder and she frowned. Normally vampires regenerated easily from normal weapons but Yato’s wound was still pink, just scabbing. He gave it a courtesy glance before flashing her a grin.

“Yep. I’ll be good as new by moon-high, don’t worry.” His gentle expression was returned and the air warmed around them for a moment. Behind them, Yukine let out a groan and Yato jolted to attention. Placing a cold hand on her shoulder, Yato leaned towards her ear, causing the highschooler’s cheeks to pink and goosebumps to rise.

“Try to keep him there for as long as you can. Don’t let him get up too fast,” Yato gave her a wink and hurried down the stairs just as Yukine started kneading his head. Hiyori rolled her eyes despite the smile on her face and she made her way to the teen. She crouched while Yukine struggled to open his eyes, coaxing him through his grumbling. The boy rubbed his eyes and looked at her with a confused frown then sighed and forced himself to a sitting position. Hiyori helped as he grabbed the sides of the coffin and pushed.

“How do you feel?” Hiyori asked gently.

“Mmm okay. Better actually, wow, I feel really good. Usually I’m sore and achy after exerting mys-” Yukine’s eyes grew wide as his hands jerked from his face. Biting her lip, Hiyori stopped the sigh from bubbling as Yukine’s temper boiled.

“Yato said not to get up too fast,” Hiyori said as Yukine started to shake.

“Who gives a- what that guy,” Yukine growled. Despite his anger, Yukine got out of the coffin carefully, easily finding his energy and stomping down the stairs with Hiyori following.

“You gave me your blood? Are you stupid?” Yukine accused the moment he stepped foot in the kitchen.

“Uh-oh,” Daikoku jeered. Yato looked up as calmly as he could from his card game, blinking up at Yukine with innocent eyes. Taking a seat next to him, Hiyori saw his cards were crooked and she imagined him scrambling to grab them once he heard his kid coming.

“I just figured you didn’t want to sleep the night away,” Yato offered weakly. Daikoku coughed out a laugh while Yukine’s eye brows somehow knitted tighter together.

“You barely eat as it is! You can’t afford to give up blood for every little thing!”

“It’s normal for a vampire to heal their servants,” Kofuku tried to help.

“Yeah, heal them. When they need it. For emergencies and injuries,” Yukine glared at Yato, “not when they pass out.” He marched over and sat on the other side of Yato, thrusting his arm towards the vampire.

“Here. Eat.” Yukine commanded. Yato gave his skin a long look before he batted it away.

“It’s not good to take from a servant you just gave to. Besides, if you’re really revving to go we can go back on patrol and I can eat after.” Yato said, looking back at his cards.

“I thought you said my blood was rare! That we’re compatible and it was ‘absolutely brimming with power’! Which, last I checked, was rare for a loner like you!”

“It is! Your blood is scrum-diddly-umptious, I could just eat you up!” Yato cooed. Seeing that his teasing wouldn't distract the teen this time, he straightened out.

“But that’s the problem. You’re a kid and a newbie and taking too much is not the best. Especially after all the spell casting and such. I said I’ll eat later so I will.” Yato said. His kid visibly fumed and Hiyori placed a caring hand on Yato’s arm.

“Maybe you should have some supplements, Yato. You are looking a little pale.”

“I’m a vampire.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! Look at my luscious cheeks,” Kofuku smushed her face to try and brighten the mood but Yukine only scoffed.

“Forget it. The idiot can starve for all I care. Maybe once he’s the one that passes out he’ll learn.” Yukine got up and stomped to the kitchen, taking his apron off the rack and going into the store. They didn’t hear the bell so there couldn’t be any customers in the little butcher shop attached to the house, but Yukine probably just wanted space. Yato watched the door shut and sighed, finally putting his cards down.

“It’s offensive to not drink his blood at all. Just learn some self control.” Daikoku grunted at Yato from over a beer. His words went ignored as Yato stood and wandered into the bathroom. Masters and servants were connected by blood and by soul, so Yato felt all of Yukine’s pain and irritation. Thankfully the sense only went one way, so Yukine wasn’t suffering from Yato’s migraine. He lied to Yukine and Hiyori. Like the scum he was, he took some of that corrupt’s blood, disgusting hand-me-downs of another’s magic, and refused to tell the two closest to him. They’d be so disappointed, hurt, and sickened by his monstrous acts. Even so, that drop of blood only went into the effort it took to sedate the man. His violence was rare and only spurred on by the pure blood Hiyori carried. Eyesight blurry, Yato floated towards the medicine cabinet, shuffling through the bottles until he found one sheet of plastic and aluminum. Pulling the metal back, the plastic indents were empty so Yato tossed it towards the trash, missing.

“I got it,” Yato muttered as he continued looking. Even so, Hiyori picked it up and wordlessly dropped it in the bin. Finally pulling out another sheet, Yato looked at what was left and did calculations in a haze. These supplements were like vitamins, not meant to live off of; even so he tries to have one every other day. But with the energy he's expelled in the past couple hours, Yato was starving for more.

“Yato,” Hiyori mumbled. He ignored her and ripped the package open, filling a glass of water while dumping out three to four pills. Hiyori’s worried gaze made him feel guilty over an activity he did so regularly he didn’t think he could feel bad over it. She tended to have that effect on him. The water continued to run after Yato choked down the handful of supplements. He put the package back and hoped Yukine wouldn’t be too angry with the money it would take to buy more. Maybe Kofuku would spot him again.

There was something dangerous about being around a hungry vampire. Of course Yato was always hungry, but the back of Hiyori’s neck always stood on end when she witnessed his ravenous. It was the same feeling she got when he attacked other humans, a predator that would stop at nothing to eat it’s target alive. But there was also something sad about it. In the LED lighting of the bathroom, illuminated by the white surroundings, Yato was dripping with desperation. Just like Yukine was when Yato found him, but bone-deep. His skin blended in with his surroundings and his eyes were sunken in with dark circles that almost matched his ink hair. She could make out his blue veins and knew his muscles should be more full. She’s seen him at his best, seen him after attacking a deer and after disappearing for some time. He looked so alive, smile the biggest it’s ever been and his childish excitement even bigger. Her doctor family would be so horrified if they knew she excused Yato’s murders during his disappearance. But now, he was weak, dull, and tired. Keeping his promise to Yukine to never eat another human again. She hoped Yukine wasn’t regretting his resolve. The skin of her arm was soft as she rubbed it absentmindedly.

“Yato,” Hiyori said again, this time with more strength. It took a second for Yato to collect himself and he looked at her with such focus and nonchalant that she was almost able to forget how malnourished he truly was. Almost.

“You know Daikoku’s kidding about the steaks right? Of course you can eat them if you’re hungry.” Hiyori quickly veered off what she wanted to say. Her wristed rolled so the pads of her fingers brushed the soft of her arm up and down. If Yato noticed the action, he didn’t glance at it.

“Yeah, don’t worry Hiyori. I said I would eat tonight, and I will.” Yato pushed himself off the sink with a crooked grin. When he stepped towards Hiyori, she didn’t move, clutching her arm.

“Hiyori? What’s wrong?” Yato’s voice softened, “I’m serious, you know, don’t worry about me. I just need some rest and I’ll make it through the night-” His soft crooning choked off violently like a punch to the teeth. His mouth watered on command and Yato’s jaw clicked shut to keep from spilling. He was standing so close to Hiyori he had been able to smell her shampoo but now his senses were on overdrive. The scent of her blood filled the air of the tiny bathroom like a thick fog, the iron sending his heart galloping. He could practically taste it and god it was delicious.

“Stop telling us not to worry about you! That really upsets us. And it hurts to see you starving yourself just to be a better person,” Hiyori spoke to the floor as her fingers tightened, “you can’t just live off of vitamins, it's not healthy! Please, Yato, we care about you and we-” When Hiyori finally looked up to her friend, something deep inside regretted her words. Black and blue eyes stared back at her, the sorrow of someone who’s hurt far too many people flashing before she was slammed against the door behind her. Her breath caught in her throat, gasp overshadowed by the pounding of her heart. The blood from her fingernails dripped down her arm onto the floor and she prayed Kofuku couldn’t smell it. Not that she could think too much of it. Eyes blown wide, Hiyori stared at the ceiling, off in the opposite direction of her friend. She felt the long twin needles hovering just above her pulse as his panting numbed her skin. Fear held her perfectly still. Hiyori trembled as drool dripped onto her collarbone.

Yato loomed over her, one hand pressed against the door above her head as his mouth opened slowly but so, so wide. His other hand remained as far away from her as possible, claws embedded in the frame to keep it that way. Only their heads touched, hair and cheeks just brushing against each other as Yato’s fangs were poised with practiced ease. The two needles pushed to their absolute peak of length and sharpness. She could leave. She had enough room to get away and lord knows if she wanted to bend him into a pretzel she could. But she didn’t. In fact his dear friend seemed just as frozen in this position as he was. No, it wasn’t that Yukine’s blood wasn’t good. It was tasty, like cold water on a hot day mixed with the finest expresso money could buy. Necessary and vital to his day. But Hiyori came from a long line of doctors and priestesses. Humans that were far too in touch with the supernatural yet not tainted in the slightest. There was a reason those old farts like Dracula and Vlad prefered to target young virgin women. Because they were the absolute most delectable. And a virgin priestess? Even humans knew they were a treat worthy of being sacrificed to the gods.

Heart pounding against his ribs like war drums, Yato’s instincts snarled at him to get on with it. Just one mouthful and he would be at top condition for three weeks, draining her would keep him at high power for god knows how long. His hibernation could be pushed off for a while. It was so rare for a priestess to be without some sort of cross or holy protection charm but this human- in all her naive sweetness- had long since removed her grandmother’s gifts. And Hiyori, god Hiyori always smelled so good. It was so tantalizing having something so mouthwatering standing right beside you all the time. But even with knowing all that, Yato could only feel shame and disgust. Despite the physical pain it caused to refuse the offered drops of her blood, Yato couldn’t do it. Because he knew it would change their relationship. It would change everything. She would be tainted by him and he would forever know what paradise felt like. Besides, he knew what he really wanted was her warmth. To feel her heartbeat with his own and let her warmth spread throughout his body. The same warmth that brightened her smile and heated her gentle touches. Yato wanted those things more than anything and taking it just to satisfy his hunger would be selfish and wrong. Eyes fading, he took a deep breath and latched.

“Kyyaahh!” Hiyori yelped. The sound was covered by the raspberry Yato blew into her neck. Her head clocked into his as she tried to move away, the loud, immature sound dissipating the buzzing tension. She shoved him away by his cheeks and berated him for being gross and disgusting, not once commenting on the drool from his hesitating fangs. Yato chuckled weakly at the fuming girl, eyeing the red of her face with a forced smile. He could still hear her heartbeat from here but his was just as loud.

“I don’t believe you! How gross!” Hiyori continued to exclaim, her voice cracking in an odd way. Even so, she sntached the wet towel Yato handed her with shaking hands. By now her little nail prints had cloted but Hiyori wiped the residue away anyway, irritated, hurt, and relieved.

“You shouldn’t really offer yourself up to a young man like that, Hiyori. What would your mother say if she found out how indecent you were being?” Yato teased. This further irritated the girl and Yato knew that if he were any less starving she would have broken his nose by now. A knock sounded on the door behind her.

“Hiyori? You okay? I heard a bang and I wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to seduce Yatty?” Kofuku’s joke veiled her very real concern and Yato couldn’t help but grin wider at the glare Hiyori screwed him with. Offended and embarrassed by the vampires and their freaky culture. She spun around without another glance and opened the door.

“I am not!” She huffed. Yato watched her rush from the room with red-tipped ears and waited for Kofuku to follow, only to sigh when she didn’t. The pink-haired vampire held his eyes and Yato looked to the floor where a single, tiny drop of blood stained the tile. He wanted to sink to his knees and laugh or cry, or both. Sitting in the fetal position on the cold hard floor while he fought the urge to lick the red off the ground. Kofuku sighed and walked to him, stopping him from acting out his pathetic daydream.

“Daikoku and I will talk to her. She shouldn’t do things like that, even if she means well.” Kofuku mumbled, hand on his cheek to keep him looking at her.

“She was trying to help,” Yato confessed, “and I almost let her.”

“It’s cruel.” Kofuku said simply, meaning no malice towards the human girl. Yato only hummed, not moving as Kofuku moved her head to the side and tried nudging his head closer.

“You just ate.”

“I know.”

“Daikoku won’t be very happy.”

“He knows.”

“And in the bathroom, Kofuku? My how scandalous,” Yato hummed as he leaned forward.

“Hmm, well, my dear boyfriend, we could take this to the bedroom if that will make you feel better.” Her voice was soft and soothing and Yato found himself following the little lady down the hall.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? I really do promise to take from Yukine later.”

“We want you to have your fill. Take from me so you won’t be as bad with Yukine,” Kofuku shrugged. She grabbed his hand and tugged him along as he hesitated, both very aware of the human girl sitting back at the table. What would he do without them? Their support? Yato wanted to cry.

“Thank you.” He said simply as she shut the bedroom door. If it was a bit awkward later, Yato made sure it wasn’t for long. All it took was a couple of funny faces to get Hiyori and Yukine back into their feisty, passionate spirits again. And seeing him suddenly have a bit more life in his steps as they patrolled the city only lifted their spirits further. There was still pain and worry, each of the three friends wanting to give everything they had to help the other. But by the time Hiyori climbed back into her bedroom window, she was smiling from ear to ear. Happy to wave goodbye to the large black vampire bat and his tiny golden bat servant as they easily flew off towards the moon.

[aitarose]

GOLD DIGGER | BOLIN

PAIRING: Bolin x Earthbender!Reader [fem]

PLOT: Probending is easy when it’s all about the money. There’s no time for friends, romance, or allies—but that all changes when Y/N’s in-game rival saves her life. loosely based on this request by @comicgeek​

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, a little fluff, a little angst, stuck together

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

A/N: i rewrote/edited this entire piece, so that’s why i added a tag list. it used to be 1.4k words and that wasn’t cutting it for me so i made it longer and decided on it being one part only, also i hated the gif i originally used so here’s a new one lol

MY MASTERLIST

Here come the Fire Ferrets’ opponents! The three-time defending champions, the White Falls Wolf-Bats!

Y/N raised her right arm above her head, watching proudly as her winged sleeve unveiled itself to the fan-filled stadium. She stood in a triangular formation beside Tahno and Shaozu, who were howling as loud as they possibly could.

Her expression was nothing more than stoic as a low whistle blew from her lips, adding an unnoticeable pitch to the viewer’s screams and cheers for their reigning champions.

Flames erupted around their team, fireworks exploding in the air in bursts of red and yellow. Through the plastic of her wolf mask, Y/N could clearly see her opponents, the Fire Ferrets, groaning in disgust at the obnoxious display in front of them.

A large smirk rose from Y/N’s lips as she noticed the unmistakable frown of annoyance on her rival’s face. He stood with a slight slouch, visibly cringing at the antics of the Wolf Bats, determined eyes paired nicely with his loathsome look.

In all her time living in Republic City, Y/N had never met anyone quite like Bolin. He had this natural positivity and enlightenment ingrained into his personality that she’d never been able to fully understand.

Sure, she hadn’t exactly been trying to get to know the earthbender any better—but he also hadn’t ever been at the top of her priorities.

Probending was the main idea on Y/N’s brain ever since she’d learned of the sport. As a child, her parents had taken her to countless matches and championships that she’d found a passion for the game. There was nothing she loved more than a good match between challengers.

But after the death of her parents to the Triple Threats, Y/N’s love for probending subsided. The excitement quickly died and was replaced with ambition. A dry and one-dimensional ambition for nothing more than the profits of fame and autographs.

Y/N cracked her knuckles, shooing away any nerves or hesitations she harbored over the probability of their win. They’d already bribed the referees, there was no way their opponents could win—even if they did have the Avatar on their side.

The champs and the challengers face off at the center line. And here we go!

At the echoing ring of the bell, Y/N dashed forwards. The familiarity of the game infused with her muscle memory made her a dangerous player. She knew the ins and outs of the sport, giving her the advantage over any skilled opponent, no matter how powerful they were.

She turned to Tahno, giving him a curt nod of reassurance, before watching him begin to shoot waves of water at the Avatar. On her opposite side, Shaozu made his way towards Bolin. Bursts of fire shooting in every direction, including Y/N’s

Flames seared the air, narrowly missing her face as she easily dodged Mako’s first attempts at an attack. She studied his movements, picking up on his style of fighting before letting her senses connect with the weight of the stone beneath her feet.

She raised her hands quickly, sending the flying slabs in Mako’s direction in a cross formation. Y/N whipped her head to see all three of her attacks hit their target, forcing the firebender into the next zone.

“Perfect form, Y/N!” Shaozu shouted, encouraging his teammate in eliminating their opponents. He turned to speak again, before being knocked down by none other than Y/N’s least favorite person in the entire world, Bolin.

As the boy cheered himself on, his teammates chimed in with words of gratitude and proudness. “Nice shot, Bo!” Mako called, complimenting his younger brother with a large smile pinned across his face.

Y/N, however, was anything but excited for him. She instinctively sprinted in his direction, making a beeline plan of attack. The stones nearest to her raised up and around her body, focusing on the figure that was Bolin.

Revenge was the only thought on her mind. The idea of the physical winnings and profit that she could make off of this match alone. The idea of the billboards and interviews that she’d get paid for, egging her emotions of anger on.

Bolin screamed in surprise as the disks targeted him. He threw up his own hands, blocking her attacks with clumsy ease. “Is that the best you’ve got?” He taunted between breaths, barely managing to dodge her stream of deadly attacks.

Whilst Bolin was distracted, Y/N gestured to Tahno, who’d been dealing with Korra, for assistance. The snake-like boy gave a sly smile to what he assumed Y/N was hinting at, leveling an ongoing stream of water directly at Bolin.

Look at that! Y/N uses her quick thinking to undermine Bolin, whilst Tahno performs the perfect, borderline illegal, assist that should certainly elicit a foul—or apparently not!

“Are you kidding me?” Bolin’s mouth was agape in shock at the ref’s decision. He grunted as Y/N gave Tahno a high-five with a sneer gracing her lips. At the sight of Bolin’s helplessness, she let out a laugh—finding his exasperation amusing.

Bolin mimicked her movements in pettiness, making fun of the way she walked and talked. Y/N rolled her eyes at his childishness, choosing to respond with the same amount of maturity while sticking her tongue out in annoyance.

As the game went on, the two teams seemed to be quite evenly matched in terms of strategy and teamwork. Not even the hefty bribe Tahno had given the referee seemed to put the Wolf Bats in favor of winning.

After what felt like hours, the challengers had reached the point where a coin toss was deemed to be necessary to determine the winners of the probending championship. This event, having never happened before, caused an uproar in the stands, chaotic excitement raging through the arena.

Y/N stared in anticipation at the airborne coin, her heart pounding in unison with every flip and turn it made. She could feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck as she waited to hear who had been determined to choose the final element.

“Yes!” Korra shouted, pumping her fist into the air before grabbing both Mako and Bolin by the shoulders and taking them aside to their section of the field. Y/N, Tahno, and Shaozu impatiently waited for them to finish—though Y/N already had a good idea of what was about to happen.

“I’m taking this one.” Bolin announced, pushing his brother and Korra aside. He nodded to the referee, confirming the Fire Ferret’s conclusion. “Earthbender versus earthbender, Y/N.”

Y/N reluctantly laughed as Bolin puffed out his chest in an attempt to appear more intimidating. She shook her head in disbelief that he actually thought that he had a chance of beating her. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She stepped up on the pedestal, facing opposite to Bolin, before pulling her fists up to her chest. While settling their stances, Y/N sent a sly wink in his direction, confusing him further—causing him to completely miss the ring of the starting bell.

Bolin ducked, feeling the crisp wind from the flying rock slab touch his hair. He continued to dodge attack after attack, sending an equal amount of stone in Y/N’s direction as she was in his. His skill was impressive and undeniable, but also equal to his opponent’s.

“Fight back, you coward!” Y/N screeched amidst her attacks. She was beginning to feel as if she was losing valuable energy while being the only player on the attack. Bolin hadn’t made a single move that couldn’t be defined as defense, choosing only to avoid her marks.

In her frustration, Y/N’s advances had grown sloppy. She’d become less focused and precise, and more upset and angry. Her emotions were very obviously conveyed through her bending, Bolin taking note of her current emotional status.

He finally made his move, seeing his opportunity and thrusted one first in her direction. Unfortunately for him, Y/N made her move at the exact same time, causing both benders to be thrown from the platform.

The thin discs collided between them, becoming nothing but pebbles and dust in the thick air. Fog shrouded their surroundings, restraining them from seeing four feet in front of them—their only idea of what had happened being the moderator’s booming voice.

Well, what do we have here folks? Our very first and unbelievable championship tie, thanks to the outstanding performances today by the Wolf-Bats and the Fire Ferrets!

Gasped filled the stands as the fog dispersed, revealing a dumbstruck Bolin and a fuming Y/N. She huffed dramatically, her face the shade of a red tomato, and marched towards Bolin, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

“I can’t believe you!” She screamed, throwing her hands in the air. She lunged forwards, slightly pushing Bolin away before continuing her rant. “You only sent one attack! One—and somehow that makes me lose the entire game? No!”

“All you did was stand there! You don’t deserve this win, I do!”

Bolin gulped, feeling his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. As much as he liked to say that he couldn’t stand Y/N, that she gave him immense anger and frustration, that didn’t make him any less afraid of her.

“All I did was play the game.” He defended, genuinely frightened by her overwhelming negativity. Bolin stumbled back, taking one hand and scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness, before saying something that was better left unsaid. 

“At least I’m not just some gold digger who only wins when I bribe the ref.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped at his accusation, shocked that those words were able to come out of Bolin’s mouth. Bolin, who was supposedly the most kind and understanding person in the entire city. “What did you just say to me?”

Bolin pursed his lips, refusing to say more in fear of making the entire situation worse. Luckily for him the chittering and cheers of the crowd drowned out their argument, the only people listening being their teammates who were standing by in silence.

“I could beat you with or without a bribe,” Y/N challenged, trying to save the little dignity she had left. While she hated to hear Bolin’s accusation, there were parts of it that were true. Would she really be able to win without a little help from up above? Or was she just a washed out player with no real talent?

Pushing her hesitations aside, Y/N took another step closer to Bolin. She smirked as she saw him shake nervously at the absence of space between them. “Tomorrow night, just you and me, in the town square for our rematch.”

Before Bolin could accept or deny her offer, static filled the arena. Electricity fizzled throughout the stands, causing police offers to drop like flies. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as the barely made out the masked figures standing in the audience above unconscious guests.

Electric gloves coated their arms, forcing innocent bystanders to surrender to them and their unjust and self-righteous cause. The Equalists stood as one in a circle around the seats, confidence and selfishness rang off of their looks.

Y/N trembled in fear—fear of losing the thing that mattered most to her, her bending. “Is that?” She trailed off, afraid that if she spoke his name aloud, it would make the moment even more real.

“Amon!” Bolin’s voice boomed in her ear, along with the sound of explosions. The dome above the entire arena had been destroyed, fragments and shards of glass nailed down onto the guests and players. Y/N’s eyes widened, her body was frozen in place, not nearly bracing itself for the inevitable impact.

She could faintly make out a voice shouting, “Y/N! Get out of the way!”, before being grabbed like a rag doll. Y/N felt weightless in the air, falling from the playing field and into the still water below. Her head was forced underwater by a large hand whilst glass continued to rain from the sky.

Y/N hurriedly swam towards the surface of the deep pool, gasping for air and spitting the contaminated water from her mouth. She flailed her arms like a flying lemur with its head cut off in an attempt of adjusting to her new surroundings and environment.

“Watch where you throw those things!” An unexpectedly high pitched voice groaned from behind her back. The boy behind the noise grabbed her untamed hands and held her body close—Y/N assumed he must’ve been making sure there were no Equalists lurking at the bottom of the arena.

After a moment of silence, Y/N craned her neck to see who had saved her from the blast of the explosion. Her expression of gratitude quickly turned to one of annoyance as she saw that it was just Bolin, who she realized was still holding her to his chest.

“Bolin.” She struggled to escape from his grasp, wriggling and kicking his legs in the dark water. “Will you please get your hands off of me? I am capable of swimming, too.”

With her request, Bolin immediately let go of his hold on her, his strong arms ejecting themselves out of his tight embrace. He swam beside her, the earthbenders wading towards the platform connected to the finishing pool that led to the back exit doors of the arena.

“Do you think they’ll be alright up there?” Bolin asked, nervously twiddling his fingers together. His face was distraught, feelings of uselessness overcame his thoughts. “I know Korra and Mako are strong and can definitely handle themselves, but I feel like I should be helping at least a little—”

“Don’t think like that.” Y/N interrupted him, seeing the stress that had drowned out his natural optimism. She gave him a small smile, the corners of her lips rising slightly in an attempt to comfort his nerves. “Your only job right now is to stay alive.”

Bolin took a deep breath, seriousness taking over his features. “You make it sound so easy,” he shuddered, letting his clenched fists relax. “Staying alive is so much hard work. One of these days I’m going to end up as the main course in the Triple Threat barbecue.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his ridiculousness. It felt good to lighten the mood with a small joke, and Bolin always had humor to share—and much as she liked to despise him, he could be quite funny sometimes—maybe even a little cute.

She raised her right arm, touching his shoulder affectionately, and gave him a real hug. One where her arms wrapped entirely around his body, comfortably sitting above his waistline. It felt right to be in his arms. Perhaps she’d been wrong about Bolin in all their time knowing each other.

Bolin peered over he shoulder in the middle of their first mutual embrace, ensuring that they were safe in their current position. “I don’t see any signs of Equalists down this hall.” He whispered, motioning for Y/N to follow behind him.

The two earthbenders quietly snuck through and around the twists and turns of the underground passageways while the battle above them could still be heard. Chaos and cries for help echoed down the metal halls. Y/N shivered at the thought of what might’ve happened to her if Bolin hadn’t saved her in time.

Considering Y/N had never been one with the skill of hiding her emotions, Bolin took great notice of the fear that had overcome her. He internally fought a long hard battle with himself, before ultimately deciding to put his ego aside.

Bolin reached for Y/N’s hand, taking her’s in his own. He gave her a heartwarming smile, his grin toothy and pure. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier,” he shrugged, sighing quietly before taking in another breath. “I was really angry and I know that’s no excuse.”

“I have absolutely no idea what your life is like outside of the games, and it was totally uncool of me to even assume anything about you. Can we just move on?”

Y/N snorted in amusement at Bolin’s innocence and purity. She took her hands, while still in his, to her mouth. She pressed a light kiss to his knuckles before letting go. Bolin stared at her in awe, surprised but welcome to the new development that their relationship had taken.

As he struggled to say a single word in response to her kiss, the two rivals had already reached the service doors that lead into the outside, and hopefully safe, world. Y/N pushed the exit open, holding it so Bolin would be able to escape as well.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” she grimaced, realizing that after tonight, they’d go back to their old routine of cat and mouse. Y/N didn’t know what to think of Bolin, but she definitely had a different perspective than she did when she woke up in the morning.

Bolin was quiet for a moment before his face lit up in excitement. He raised his eyebrows at Y/N, wiggling them for a moment in an attempt to make her laugh, which he succeeded in. “What do you mean part ways?”

“We still have our rematch tomorrow night!”

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham​ @mochminnie​ @bombardia​

[seungmoroll]

Heather | Kim Seungmin

Word count: 3.6k

Genre: baseball au, one sided love, happy endings

A/N: I have 0 knowledge about baseball, so if anything is wrong, I apologize in advance. if you haven’t already, you can read the rest of the series here. 

    It feels good outside today; not too hot, not too cold. It’s the perfect day to go watch a baseball game. Everyone in town is out here supporting the school’s baseball team. There are only two more games left of the season, and if the boys win both games, then the team is going on to regionals. Luckily for the baseball team, a certain player is up next to bat.

    I watch as he approaches the batter’s box, cheering his name, “Go Seungmin!” He turns around from his position and gives me a sweet smile, but then in a quick second that smile disappears and he puts on his deadly serious face. I slightly chuckle at the quick change in his expression; he may have a sweet, puppy-like face, but when it came to baseball, he was intimidating.

    “Hey Y/n!” I take my eyes off of Seungmin to see Mark coming towards me with popcorn in his hands. I’m lowkey worried about him spilling it, oh never mind, he just spilt it on someone he was squeezing by. I snicker at his clumsiness. When he finally reaches me, he plops down next to me and asks, “Oh? Is that Seungmin batting?”

    “Yup.” As soon as you answer him, the pitcher pitches the ball towards Seungmin, and you actively watch as Seungmin hits the ball and starts running towards first base. Luckily for the team, Seungmin hit the ball towards the outfield, allowing for Jeno to reach the home plate. I feel a light shove at my side, causing me to bring my attention back to Mark.

    “I see you got his jersey on.” By his, he meant Seungmin’s. It was in the beginning of the season when he had asked me to wear it. It had gone down like this:

    I was waiting for Seungmin to come out of the changing rooms after practice so that we could go to the library together to study. When he had approached me, he said, “Here.” Seungmin had shoved a piece of fabric towards me and when I had unraveled it, I realize it was his jersey. I had looked at him in confusion.

    He said to me, “I want you to wear it to the game tomorrow.” Adding, “That’s if you want to of course,” I had watched him as he did his best to avoid my gaze and I couldn’t help myself when I chuckled because if him.

    “And why would you want that? What if people think we’re together? I had jokingly asked him those questions as a way to tease him, but I wasn’t expecting the reponse that he had given me, even though I’m sure I wasn’t supposed to hear it at all.

    “Would it be a bad thing if people did think that?” Was what he had mumbled under his breath. Pretending that I didn’t hear what he had said, I had asked him to repeat his response, only for him to say, “It was a dare.” Pointing towards Hyunjin and Changbin who were peeking behind the corner. Amused, you waved at the two boys, who tried not to seem obvious.

    “Don’t worry Seungmin, I’ll wear it. It’ll be like I’m your good luck charm.” And that’s when I started to get an inkling that Seungmin started seeing me as more than just a friend.

    Back to the present now, and the game is now on the last inning. The score is tied, and luck happens to be on our side today because it’s finally our turn to bat. I can see Seungmin standing in the dugout, anxiously waiting for his turn to bat. Next to him is F/n, they’re the team’s manager, and I can see them doing their best to make sure the team doesn’t get too anxious. It’s finally Seungmin’s turn to bat again, meaning we have the chance to break the tie. I know that Seungmin’s capable of scoring for the team, but I still cross my fingers for good luck.

    The first pitch is a strike, causing for everyone to sit on the edge of their seats, including me. The second pitch is also a strike, and I can just tell by Seungmin’s body language that he’s starting to get pissed. Underneath my breath, I say, “C’mon Seungmin, you got this.” The pitcher winds up for the pitch, and then the ball comes towards Seungmin, the sound of the ball hitting his bat sounding off in my ears. Swiftly, I’m on my feet yelling, “Run, Seungmin! Run!” Everyone around me is cheering as the announcer yells, “It’s a home run!” As Seungmin makes his way around to the bases, we make eye contact, and I can’t help but smile as widely as he is.

    “Yo! We won!” Mark yells as he grabs me by the arms and begins shaking me.

    “Mark! Mark! You can stop that now.” We both laugh at his over excitement, “That means if they win the next game, they’re going to regionals.” This season meant a lot to Seungmin. In the beginning of the season, he had a little medical scare, but it came out as minor, so he was able to join the season halfway, and thank gosh for that, because I think we wouldn’t have been able to make it this far without him.

    “C’mon let’s go and wait for them to finish up.” After, every game you went to, you always waited for the team to leave so that you could talk to Seungmin and the others.

   As Mark and I stand there making small conversation about what we were going to eat for dinner while waiting for the team to come out, we hear cheers coming from a group of rowdy boys. I smile when I realize that the team is finally coming out. I do my best to look for Seungmin, but my attention is stolen when I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder and a cap steals my vision causing for me to lose my balance.

   “Yah!” I swing my arms in hopes of hitting the culprit, and I claim success when I hear them let out an ow.

   “Hey Y/n, chill.” I stop my movement when I realize that it’s just Seungmin. His hold on his hat loosens up, allowing for me to look up at him and I see that he’s giving me that stellar smile of his. I can’t help but smile back because playful Seungmin means happy Seungmin and there’s nothing better than that.

   “Hey Mr. MVP.” I teasingly call him. I can see a slight blush form on his face, and I internally coo at him.

   “Stop it.” I can tell by the look on his face that he definitely did not want me to stop.

   “Hey, I’m just telling you like it is.”

   “Ehem.” Oh that’s right, Mark is with me. We both turn our attention towards him, as he comes up to Seungmin and goes in for a dap. “Good game out there today, bro.”

   “Thanks. Hey,” Seungmin turns towards me, “you guys busy after this?” Shaking my head no, Seungmin then proceeds to ask us if we wanted to go eat with him and some of the guys from the team. Looking at Mark, who gives me a look that I knew too well, I say to Seungmin, “Of course.”

   We all ended up going to the local pizzeria nearby, and when we got there some of the guys were already there.

   “Look it’s our hero Kim Seungmin.” Eric yells out. Cheers erupt from the group and I can see from the corner of my eye that Seungmin’s rolling his eyes at their antics. Going to take our seats, Seungmin pulls out my chair for me. He always does it for me, at first I questioned it, but now I’m just too used to it. We both ignore the teasing glances the guys give us, at this point I think they should be used to it too. Although I ignore the idiots’ glances, I can’t help but notice one individual’s stare.

   “Hey F/n.” F/n and I weren’t that close of friends, but I could say that we were good acquaintances. We’ve gotten closer thanks to all the baseball team hangouts I’ve been invited to, and every time I learn something new about them, though I’m sure they haven’t even noticed the things that I’ve picked up on.

   “Hi Y/n. Hey Mark. It’s good to see you guys here.”

   “Wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Y/n.” Mark adds. I know what he’s implying. He’s basically saying that because he’s my best friend and Seungmin likes me, he gets invited to the hangouts. Patting him on the arm, in a playful yet strong manner, I say, “He’s kidding.” The only response I get is a slight smile. They probably understood what he was implying too.

   When the pizzas come out, the team basically digs in. I let them grab their pieces first because I just know that they’re tired and hungry from that game. As I’m waiting Seungmin put down a plate with two slices of pizza in front of me. Silently he takes what was my original plate and grabs a couple of pieces for himself. Seungmin liked to do things like that; always does it without being asked and I think to myself that I want a partner like that, and although Seungmin is here right in front of me, I can’t help but not feel anything for him. Though I know that his actions make somebody else’s heart flutter.

   I take a quick glance at F/n, and I can tell by how their expression has slightly changed that they noticed the small action. Like I mentioned earlier, thanks to all the hangouts out I’ve been invited to I’ve picked up on a few things about F/n. One of them being that they have a crush on Seungmin. To sum up how I figured it out, they basically look at him the same way he looks at me. I feel bad for them. Having to watch the person that you like like someone else, but we can’t help it when we fall for someone. Now, I’m 100% sure they don’t know that I know, but I want to help them. Whether it be with them getting with Seungmin or getting over him or whatever; I just want them to be happy. Though that might have to be for another time because now I have to worry about Mark eating himself to death.

One week later.

   Today was a good weather day, so I decided to go out and read my book, but I decided to do so at the baseball field where I can watch the team practice. Every once in a while, I catch Seungmin’s glance, and we both smile at each other. I can also feel F/n slightly deathly glare on me as well. I think today might be a good day to talk to them. Once practice is over, the team heads to the locker room, but Seungmin heads towards me, “Hey you busy today? I was thinking we could go to that new coffee shop and try out some of their stuff.”

   “Sorry Seung, raincheck? I actually wanted to talk F/n.” I felt bad for rejecting him, but I really did need to talk to F/n.

   “Oh. That’s alright, we can always go next time.” I can tell that he’s a little bit disappointed. “Of course, I’ll even pay next time, and don’t you dare say anything else, I will not take no for an answer. Now go change, you smell like sweat.” Pushing him towards the locker rooms, I don’t give him a chance to object, and make my way towards the equipment room.

   F/n was in the equipment room putting up the things from practice, leaning against the door way, I speak up, "So...Seungmin, huh?" They jump from fright, not expecting anyone else to be there with them. When they realize that it’s just me they relax.

   Confused by the abrupt question, they ask, "What about Seungmin?"

   "You like him, right?" I guess they weren't expecting that question because they accidentally drop the bucket of

baseballs causing for them to scatter around our feet. Quickly we both get down to pick up the mess, and in doing so, F/n

avoids my question. I let it slide until we’ve put up all the baseballs, and then I ask them again, “You like Seungmin, don’t you?”

   Pushing past me to leave the equipment room, and to most likely avoid me from seeing their face, “What? Psh, no.

Seungmin? Why would I like someone like him?” Following them out, to let them lock up, I respond, “Because he’s him.”

   “If that’s your reasoning, then I could ask you the same.” I can see regret form on their face after their response, which

confirms my suspicions even more. I’m sure they’re afraid of my answer; afraid that I’m going to say that I do like him.

   “Yeah, I like Seungmin,” a small gasp escapes their lips, “but as a friend.” I could see relief wash over them. “So…do you?” They don’t immediately respond, hesitant to answer my question, so I add in, “You don’t have to tell me or anything,

I’m not trying to pressure you to admitting your feelings for him. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.”

   “Confirm your suspicions? Are you telling me I’m that obvious?” Well, I guess that definitely answers my question.

   Waving them off, I reassure them, “Oh don’t worry, Seungmin’s oblivious, however, I can’t say that about the rest of the team.” My last words make their eyes widen and groan, “Oh gosh, please tell me they don’t know.” I laugh at their response, “Oh they totally know. F/n, you’re the manager; managers shouldn’t have favorites, and Seungmin is obviously your favorite.”

   Dramatically, they say, “Great, that’s it. I have to quit being the manager and then leave the school. That’s so embarrassing.” I decide to tease them a bit to have them less embarrassed about the fact that everyone knew about their feelings for the baseball star, “But if you quit, then you won’t be able to be around Seungmin that often.”

   “At least I wouldn’t have to see him look at you as if you hung up the stars.”

   “So you know about that too?”

   “Of course I do. I have to hear the team tease him about it every other day.” I guess that’s not surprising at all.

   “Er…sorry, I guess.”

   “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. You can’t help it that he likes you, though it’d help if you had a bad personality.” They add the last part to make the conversation lighthearted, but I can tell that there’s a hint of pain in their words.

   In attempt to change the conversation, I ask them, “Why do you like him?” They open their mouth to speak, but then closes it, taking time to really think about their answer.

   “I think we’d be here for a while if I answered that question.”

   “I have all the time in the world.”

   Sighing, “I guess for starters, I like the fact that he’s so determined, y’know?” I knew exactly what they meant. If there was one feature about Kim Seungmin that you had to point out was his determination. “Like, he’s always so determined to get better at baseball even though he’s already so good, and once he’s put his mind on something, there’s no turning back. He’ll get it done. I remember this one time I missed the bus for a job interview, and he was determined to get me there that he got Chan to take me.” The look on their face as they talked about him truly showed me that they really liked him, and it made me feel even worse knowing that they couldn’t get their happy ending because of me.

   “You know, I’ve never seen you like this.” They cock their head at my statement, confused by my words, “I’ve never seen you so happy to talk about someone or even something.”

   “I guess that’s what liking someone does to you.”

   “If you want, I can talk to Seungmin.”

   “What do you mean by that.”

   “I think I should tell him that I don’t feel the same for him.” I thought about doing it for a long time now, but I didn’t know how or when, and after seeing F/n speak about him, I just think that I should do it soon.

   “Don’t. You’ll break his heart.” Of course they would want Seungmin upset.

   “Don’t worry. Seungmin’s a big boy, I’m sure he’ll be alright.”

   “How do you know that?”

   “Because he’ll have you and the team right there for him.”

   It’s the following day after the converdsation I had with F/n, and I’m sitting in the bleachers again waiting for baseball practice to finish. Today’s the day, I’m going to talk to Seungmin. Once practice had finished, instead of Seungmin approaching me, I approached him.

   “Hey, you wanna go to the park?”

   After Seungmin changed and freshened up, we had made a quick walk to the park. We walked around for a bit, telling each other about our days and stopping to take pictures, more like Seungmin stopped to take pictures of me, but I managed to make him step in front of the camera a few times. When we found a park bench, we decided to sit down and rest for a bit. Once seated, I reach into my bag and silently hand him the item that I grabbed.

   "What is this?" Seungmin asked me as I handed him back his jersey.

   "It's your jersey." I could tell that he was completely confused. "I don't think I should wear it anymore."

   "W-why?"

   "Seungmin, I know that you like me.” I watch as his eyes widen at my words.

   “I…” He was speechless; he didn’t know what to say, so I spoke instead, “But, I only see you as a friend.” It hurt me to have to have this conversation with him, but it needed to happen. I can’t let him pine after me when I know that he could be having a better life with someone else. “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore, he looked like a puppy that had been kicked, so I looked down at the ground.

   “I know.” Is the first thing he says to me. “I’ve always known that you wouldn’t like me the same way, but I just couldn’t help liking you anyways. It’s not like I regret the time I’ve spent liking you. I enjoyed those moments where you made my stomach get butterflies and every time I saw you cheering for me at my games.” I playfully shove

Seungmin, “Hey, it’s not like I’m going to stop cheering for you.”

   I see the corners of his mouth move upward into a small smile, “Good, I like rubbing it into the opposing teams’ faces

That I have a beautiful person cheering me on.” It’s moments like these where I think to myself that I could have fallen for Seungmin in another universe.

   “Y’know, if you really want someone to wear your number, I think I might know a person.” He raises his eyebrow at me curious as to who could be possibly speaking about. Grinning, I say, “F/n.”

   Seungmin gently shoves at me, “Oh not you too,” he groans out. Not me too? Does he know about F/n’s crush? “What do you mean by that?” I ask him.

   “Everyone on the baseball team thinks that F/n has some sort of crush on me.”

   Feigning innocence, “Oh do they now? Hmm I wonder why?”

   “Why are you using that tone with me? Is there something that I don’t know? Do they actually like me?”

   “I’m not in the position to answer that last question, but hypothetically let’s say that they did, would that be a bad thing?”

   “I’ve never really thought about F/n like that.”

   “But could you see yourself with them?”

   “I mean, I guess.” I cock my eyebrow at his unwanted response, “They have a nice personality, and they’re pretty funny, especially when they’re bullying Changbin. I could also say I like their attitude towards things. They’re kinda cute too.” Oh? This is not how I thought things were going to go, but that doesn’t matter because it seems like it’s going in a good direction.

   “You think you could give them a chance then?”

   “Yeah I guess I could, just maybe not now.”

   “You know, I’m not going to try to force you into something you don’t want, right? I just want the two of you to be happy, and I just think you two could be happy together.”

   Seungmin clutches at his hurt, causing for me to worry, only for him to give me a teasing look, “Stop saying stuff like that or I’ll fall for you even more.” I smack him in the back of the head for making me worried, I had really thought that there was something wrong with him.

   “Ow,” he says as he rubs the back of his head, “What was that for?”

   “That’s for making me worried you idiot.”

   “Now I like you a little bit less.”

   “Good.” We both smile at each other. It’s safe for me to say that things between me and Seungmin will be alright.

A few weeks later.

   It's the day of the first round of regionals. Everyone is here outside the bus to cheer on the team. Mark and I will be leaving for the game later on in the day. I see the team walking out of the locker room, and spot Seungmin being the last one out, with F/n by his side. F/n has been telling me they’ve gotten closer recently, and I can’t help but be happy for the two of them, it seems like things are going to work out between them.

A/N: can I just say that Seungmin looks so good in baseball uniform. I just love the fact that when I started writing this that they came out wearing baseball uniforms. anyways, there’s only one more part left of the heather series :( what do you guys think about the series so far? I hope that you’ve enjoyed everything so far. if you want to read more from me, feel free to send in requests!