#*insert clapping crowd noises*

[expensivemountaintea]

!!!NEW PROFILE PIC!!!

‼️NOW WITH BIBLICALLY ACCURATE MOUNTAINTEA‼️

Here's the picrew I used:

[clone-lover]

Something to Drink

Hunter X Singer Reader

Warnings: Alcohol/drinking... that's about it

I don't know if anyone will like this cause it's a little bit of an insert on my part. When I preform, I always imagine my fav character is in the crowd cheering me on so... anyways enjoy!! (I have had to rewrite this so many times. Safe to say I hate it now)

Masterlist

Anxiety bubbled in your stomach as you turned on your mic. It was your first time preforming here and you didn't know anyone in the crowd. Your heart thumped in your chest, threating to burst out. You closed your eyes and breathed out with little effect on your nerves.

The cantina band began to play and you tried to soothe your nerves by swaying to the music. The music was slower than most cantina music is and wayyy more sensual but the cliental likes it that way.

Little did you, your rapid heart rate caught the attention of a man in the crowd. This man would later become known as hunter but for now, it was time to open your mouth and sing.

Your words, tone and stage presence mesmerized him. I'm an instance you captivated him, unknowingly bewitching him. The cantinas light danced to your chorale. Your harsh washed away by the dancing ray as your softer ones flowed through the air and into Hunter's longing eyes.

You were truly marvelous. He couldn't pry his eyes away. Too soo, the song ended. You heard a clapping from the back. Odd, you were sure no one would like it, being it was your first time with that style.

Hunter received weird looks for clapping. He didn't mind. In fact, he would prefer they remained ignorant to your beauty. He wanted you to himself.

You left the cantina dug out and headed to the bar to soothe your throat. When Hunter saw your u eyeing the bar he ordered you a drink in foresight.

"one for the preformer."

"well, alright. They is'a new around here." Hunter pointed out a sweet drink with sour hints and a bitter after, while listening to the tender's accented words. "The everything," he named the beverage. "They is'a bound to liking it." That was a relief. "Smart man. Even smarter, if you asking 'em what they is'a running from." He looked up at the alien man confused.

"Not normal to leave," he smiled "old cliental." He drew out the word cliental before promptly making a disapproving noise with the shake of his face skin. "No, it is'a bad," he paused to shake his face again at the word bad. "For business." He poured the drink into a loopy glass and placed a lid on top. A soft gradient between pink and yellow filled the loops and twists of the bottle. "Who wants to start fresh anyways?" He shook his cheeks as he walked away with the bottle.

Hunter looked over to find you talking to the alien bartender. You were shining as if there was a spotlight on you. The tender jabbed a finger towards hunter.

The tattooed man looked beautiful and you almost couldn't tear your eyes away. Hunter's feet moved his body to you. You were even more beautiful up close.

"thank you for the drink," You paused hoping for him to introduce himself. "Hunter." He smiled and stuck out his arm. "You don't really get out much do you hunter?" You said taking his hand in yours. He scratched the back of his head and chuckled, "is it that obvious."

A lingering awkwardness strained the conversation. Luckily the cantina music and usual noise filled the silence. You took a sip from the drink waiting for him to take charge. "Are you hungry, this place is rather loud and I know a pretty good spot to eat right around the corner."

A date? You took another sip to think. Hells what do you have to lose. "That sounds great. The patrons might be upset that I left without a closing show." Hunter offered you his hand and gracefully eased you down from the bar stool. "Don't worry, I'll have you back before then. Besides, I wouldn't mind another show." His words, warm on your cheeks. This would be an interesting night.

Ahhhh this wasn't supposed to post yetttt the ending is a little rusheddd so sorry!!!

[rjschoicesstuff]

Like u know she just talks shit abt Lewyn and Astoria in Cas' head while they r getting a lecture again.

And goes into Gabe's head like 'Ur sooo beautiful 2day literally prettiest girl in this room woaw... literally prettiest girl in EVERY room.' insert crowd cheering and clapping noises

1 of Ripley's abilities I settled on is tht she can telepathically communicate with ppl, like talk in their head + putting images in their head

Half bc I imagine that's how she managed to speak to the Creator when the leyline energy went into her, cuz her throat had been ripped out, she couldn't use her voice anymore.

And half cuz it's funny, I do think it'll rly come in handy tho.

[toorusluvr]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ NASTY: OIKAWA TOORU.

characters: oikawa tooru x f!reader

cw:  college au + cheerleading au (the reader is a cheerleader) shower sex + anger/jealous sex + degradation + exhibitionism + possesive oikawa + slight impact play + cunnilingus + unprotected sex + vaginal penetration + blowjob + oral sex + slight spanking + bratty reader (is oikawa a brat tamer? :p) + oikawa became loving and soft at the end ;)

wc: 3k

crossposted on my ao3 🤍

The sound of your teammates cheering snapped you out of your deep thoughts. Your mind was cloudy, filled with useless thoughts concerning the fight you were having with your boyfriend, Oikawa. Both of you got into a fight again yesterday. It's unfortunate when you needed his support the most on your important day. You were unsure what caused the conflict, but you did lose your temper, and so did he. Both of you are hot-headed sometimes, and it's not good for your relationship. However, both of you love each other and makeup after the fight.

But yesterday was different. This is your first time fighting with Oikawa before your big day. Today's event is vital to you and your team to make it to the next qualifier a month from now on. You sat on the wooden bench, fidgeting your fingers before you went out to the field and started performing. One of your closest friends in the team approached you after she saw how restless you looked. "Hey, we are gonna go out in 5. Are you okay?" Her eyebrows stitched when she saw how cold your hands got when she touched them.

You looked up and saw her concerned face. A small smile formed on your lips, "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go if y'all are ready." You got up from the bench and forgot about your boyfriend for a moment. You had to do your best to make it to the next qualifier.

Oikawa made his way in the crowds filling the bleachers. Even though he was in the middle of a fight with you, he would never forget your important day. He wanted to see his princess doing their best and made it to the top, just like he does. Oikawa knew his support means a lot to you, hence his presence today. Being in a fight will never stop him from supporting his girlfriend.

He sat in the bleachers, ensuring it's close to where you'll be performing soon. And he made sure you'll see him rooting for you in the bleachers. He's proud of you nonetheless.

The loud cheer from the crowd let him knew that his girlfriend's team would start performing. A familiar remix of Nasty x Body Party started playing and blasted all over the booming system around the huge field. Oikawa's eyes landed on you, right in the middle of your formation. You seemed not to have noticed him into a few seconds of the song. He looked at the short skirt you were wearing and the skintight top. God, did you look so stunning in his eyes.

At this moment, you knew too damn well the choreography for this remix is sexier than any other choreographies your team had for the previous months. Since you made the co-captain, your sidekick let you know how sensual and flexible choreography can dominate your team's dynamic movements. The song mixed well with the choreography.

Oikawa watched every inch of your body moved along to the rhythm of the song. His heart feeling nervous at how the boys were ogling your body and how badly he wanted to throw punches in their faces.

You looked at Oikawa in the bleachers, making sure he watched you every second of the passing time. The gaze he was giving you felt different than any other day. The loving gaze has now turned into a gaze filled with lust and anger. You flashed him a cocky smirk before your presence dominated the entire performance. Standing in the middle of your cheerleading team, you let the crowds clapped while praising your team endlessly. After the noise subsided, you made your way to the locker room.

A few of the football's guys surrounded you and your team, making it difficult for you to get past them. You pushed them away with a loud grunt, "What the fuck. Get away from me, you weirdos!" Your friend saw how infuriated you were, so she let you cooled down first before nearing you in the locker room later.

You walked furiously to the locker room, and just before you pushed the door open, a pair of hands quickly pushed you inside the locker room. All words have flown out of your mouth the moment you felt the familiar touch. Oikawa. Why is he here in the female's locker room? Couldn't he wait for you after you're done cleaning yourself up?

Oikawa led you to one of the shower stalls. He pushed your back against the cold marble tiles. "What the hell are you doing here, Oikawa? This is the girls' locker room. Get the fuck out of here!" you grunted while trying to break free from his tightening grip. "Let me go, Tooru! It hurts!" you cried out in pain. You could feel your wrist started to be in pain.

"Did you enjoy being the centre of attention? Did you enjoy the fucking nasty looks the guys gave you?" he spat out in your ears. His heart raced when his mind started to recall the events from earlier. How fuming mad he was when he overheard the guys' disgusting conversations about your cheerleading team. He wished to destroy them all. How dare they said that to his own fucking girlfriend? And they had the audacity to think they could have you? Assholes.

"Tooru! What the fuck are you talking about? Please let me go!" you begged. "What are you doing here? Please leave. They are going to come in soon!" you cried. The thoughts of your teammates caught both of you in the shower room together scared you. Oikawa's not supposed to be in here, yet here he was.

He ignored your pleas. "Oh, my angel, don't you care about how infuriated I was? How you turned me on with your choreography? And these outfits? Oh, baby, you should have known better" his hands snaked around your waist. He turned your body around so you could face him and see him straight in the eyes. He wanted you to know that he owns you, and no one else can.

Oikawa's brown orbs stared directly into your soul. Your expression right now is priceless. He loves how much control he has over you, especially when he's mad jealous. "Did you know what you just did to me, babe?" his fingers trailed over your smooth skin and your chin. He lifted your chin using his index finger before he lightly slapped you across your face.

"I got hard while you were dancing your ass off in the field. How does that sound to you, hm?" he whispered in your ears. Before you could open your mouth, the sound of your teammates cheering filled the once silenced locker room. "Shush, baby. We wouldn't want them to know, right?" he kissed you tenderly on the lips. "Turn on the shower, baby", Oikawa commanded.

You gulped, knowing too well where this is about to go. Oikawa stripped off his clothes and hung them neatly on the hook. When his right hand about to touch you on the face, you heard a bang on the door of your shower stall. "Hey Y/N! Are you in there?" you heard the familiar voice of your friend asking you from outside. Your lips trembled, eyes dilating when you turned to look at your boyfriend.

You cleared your throat, "Y-yeah, I am in here. I'm fine, don't worry. I need some time alone. You guys can leave first. I'll lock up later!" Your hands shaking when Oikawa touched your angelic face.

Your friend heard the shower running and shrugged her shoulders. "Mmkay if that's what you said. They're going to shower first before we head out. I'll let you know when I'm about to leave, though!"

"Okay!" your voice seemed small and terrified if they ever found out about Oikawa's presence in the locker room. You heard your friend's footsteps disappearing in the distance before the shower stall next to you started running its water.

"Now we can talk, hm?" Oikawa sucked on your sensitive spot just below your ears. A small gasp escaped your mouth when he nipped on your neck. You were sure he's gonna leave a lot of hickeys all over you by the time you guys are done. This is just the beginning to him, after all. Oikawa's lips travelled to your clothed breasts before his hands took them off of you.

You raised your arms higher for him to undress you. His large hands palmed your half-naked bosom. His slender fingers trailed over every inch of your skin before he inserted them in your beautiful mouth. "Suck", he commanded. You did as he told. Your lips wrapped around his two digits as your eyes followed his movements.

Oikawa pulled down your short skirt. The feathery touch of his fingers against your thighs made you shivered. You whimpered as you felt your whole body is soaked in water. Oikawa's wet hair made him look a thousand times attractive. He flashed you a cocky smirk before he crouched down on the ground. He spread your legs wider and touched you on your dampened cotton underwear.

"Mhm, my baby is always soaking wet", you heard he mumbled softly. Your fingers buried in his soft brown locks while he was savouring your taste. He pulled down your underwear and let it pooled around your ankles for a while. His pretty and pink lips started kissing your inner thighs that made you whimpered like a bitch in heat. "You're always so beautiful for me, love", you heard him said.

You felt his hot breath fanning over your core. He used his force to spread your legs even wider to bury his face in between your legs. "Beg for me, princess", he growled. His fingers toying with your slick folds. "Beg for me like the little slut you are", he spanked your thighs. And when he watched them jiggled, it only turned him on even more.

"Shit", you mumbled under your breath. "Please, Tooru" you made sure not to let anyone outside heard your voice. You were very cautious, but Oikawa did not. He smirked cockily, "Not loud enough, slut."

His fingers stroking your slick folds up and down, collecting your juices with his fingers to continue teasing you.

You let out a breathy moan. "Tooru, please. Fuck me like the little slut I have always been," you begged. You would have been so embarrassed if any of your teammates actually heard you begging to be fucked like a slut. "Please, Tooru. I promise I'll be good."

Oikawa let out sinister laughter. "Oh, my little slut. This pussy misses me that much?" He inserted his two slender fingers into your dripping cunt. You yelped at the sudden stretch and accidentally let out a loud whimper. You put a hand over your mouth as you rested the back of your head on the cold marble tile.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you agonizingly slow that you had to bite your hand when his pace started to build your orgasm. "Mmph", you muffled your moans with your hand. "Ah- Tooru", you whimpered. You looked down at Oikawa, who gave you another smirk. He pulled out his fingers and replaced them with his tongue. His tongue laid flatly on your pussy, and you felt a long stroke of his lick.

Oikawa tilted his face to get better access of his tongue on your dripping cunt. His tongue gladly lapped every one of your sweet juices. Before he buried his tongue even deeper, he mercilessly toyed with your clit. You bit your lower lip as your orgasm slowly building up. "Tooru, I'm so near" you let out another breathy moan. He kissed your clit before switching his tongue to his fingers.

His thumb rubbing circles on your clit to stimulate your orgasm. "Ah- please, please please", you begged with such a small voice that sounded so pure yet sinful in his ears. "Moan, my fucking name, princess", he grunted.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Please, Tooru. I'm so near. Please.."

Oikawa rubbed on your bundle of nerves to the right rhythm that made your legs shake afterwards. And when you felt it coming, a loud gasp escaped your pretty mouth. You immediately covered your mouth while Oikawa smirked, seeing you being in a guilty pleasure.

"Hey, are you okay?" the person next to your shower stall asked out of concern. Your heart racing to the thoughts of being caught by your teammates.

"Y-yes, I'm fine. The water's just boiling! That's all!" you lied through your gritted teeth. You stared into Oikawa's eyes, "Please. We can't get caught in here."

Your pleas have never sounded so desperate. Were you that terrified? That only drove him to make you scream his name louder. He scoffed, "As if that's my current concern, baby. I don't fucking care."

Oikawa's stubborn, that, you have to admit. He's one cocky bitch, but what can you do? Ask him to leave when your cunt was begging to be impaled by his pretty cock?

You grunted softly. Your hands on both sides of the shower stall as you let out another deep sigh. "Fuck it. Tooru, get the fuck up," you said. Oikawa smirked when he knew what's your next move. He cockily laid his bare back against the cold marble tiles. He pushed his damp hair back to have a better view of his girlfriend about to give him head. You got on your knees and situated your face in between his legs.

Using your spit as the lubricant, you stroked his hardened member with your bare hand. Oikawa hissed at the sudden contact with your hand. And when your finger brushed over his slit, he let out a small moan. "Fuck, princess, if you messed this up", he threatened you. You rolled your eyes at him and started licking his cock up and down.

Your mouth has never felt so warm like it did at this moment. The beautiful look that's plastered across your face made him wanted to ruin you even more. The running water concealed the sloppy noise you were making while sucking your boyfriend's pretty cock. His girthy size made your jaw ached but did it hurt you so good.

Oikawa's hand kept on pushing your head down on his cock, eventually making you gagged. "Mmph!" Oikawa heard the muffled noises you were making. He couldn't simply care and continued pushing your head down. "Suck my cock, slut."

He's a pretty moaner, and the soft grunts coming out of his mouth sounded so pleasant to you. You could never forget how beautiful the noises he makes. You saw his face contorted with pleasure, eyes squinted, and his lips squirming. You scoffed, knowing too damn well that he's near, and you were doing a good job. Your free hand rubbing his inner thighs up and down crucially slow to help him to reach his climax faster.

When you felt his cock twitched in your mouth, you took his cock out with a loud pop. "I'm- fuck- I'm coming", Oikawa grunted softly as his hand tugged on your hair. You used your hand to pump his cock to help him finish. Before you knew it, his hot and thick spurts of cum landed on your face. Your eyes shut closed when you felt it hitting your face.

"Angel, you look so fucking beautiful", he praised you with his thumb caressing the sides of your face. He helped you to get up and cleaned his cum off of your face. "I have to reward my angel for being such an obedient slut for me today, hm?" he pulled your waist closer to his body. You gave him a flirtatious smirk, "You can do better than that, Tooru. Come on."

He scoffed, "And now you think you're in charge? Who the fuck do you think you are, slut?" he gave your cheek a harsh slap. The sound of the slap shocked everyone in the locker room, but they thought it was nothing, just the sound of people showering. You winced in pain, "Tooru, fuck that hurts."

He smiled in satisfaction. Oikawa pushed you against the cold marble tiles once again, turning the shower to maximum pressure. The water hitting his back and your naked body. He fondled your breasts with his bare hand before twirling your hardened buds with his index and thumb. You cried out in pleasure, begging him to go faster in your mind.

"Tooru. I need your cock. Please," you begged shamelessly. Oikawa laughed sarcastically before he attacked your lips with his. When his possessiveness takes control over his mind, he easily forgets to show you that you are loved. He forgot to kiss you and reminded you that you're lovely and beautiful today. All because his jealousy took control.

"Damn it. Sorry, I was harsh," Oikawa whispered in your ears after kissing you passionately. He caressed both sides of your face. His lust-filled gaze has now turned loving and softer than before. He kissed your forehead, "Sorry, baby."

You felt even guilty because you didn't say sorry before things escalated quickly. You grabbed his hands and squeezed them firmly, "It's okay, baby. We'll talk after this, alright?" You gave him a sweet smile, and it felt so nice to see Oikawa smiled again after being in a rage.

Oikawa gave you a quick nod before nudging your legs with his. He spread your legs wider so he could have better access. Spitting on his palm, he stroked his cock a few times before thrusting into you. You yelped when the stretch burned, but Oikawa shushed you and gave you time to adjust to the size of his cock. Your stretchy walls swallowed his cock with ease. "You can move now" you smiled bitterly.

He assured you with a sweet smile as his hips bucked into you. You slightly threw your head back when the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your g-spot deep inside you. You clawed on his flexing biceps. Crescent shapes started to appear on his fair skin. "Fuuuck, Tooru", you let out a staggered moan. "Harder", you begged. You threw your hands over his shoulders and made eye contact with him.

Oikawa placed another soft peck on your lips before thrusting back into you harder as you requested. With another sway of his hips, you matched your rhythm to his to ensure both of you got the climax you guys longed for. He alternately caressed the sides of your face to playing with your clit to make you cum faster. His other free hand squeezed around your throat, and you were such a good girl for him. Taking his cock so well and obediently.

"Fuck, you're so hot", he whimpered. He looked down to where his cock was swallowed by your pretty pussy. Oikawa slammed his hips inside of you again, making you screamed in pleasure. Your hands ran down on his back before scratching on it while your mind was clouded with indescribable euphoria. "T-tooru, it's too much", you moaned.

Oikawa bit on your shoulder when he felt he's so close to releasing his cum inside of you. He knew you were close when your tone changed, and he kept on rubbing on your clit. You chanted his name like a prayer, asking him to go harder on you while his finger overstimulating your clit. "Hm- please please, please, I'm so fucking near. God-" your incoherent babbles stopped when you felt your orgasm washed over you.

You let out a breathy moan after you finished. Oikawa looked at you and smirked, "Fuck- I'm near", he grunted softly as he slowed down his pace. You could feel his thick spurts of cum painted your insides. He buried his face in the crook of your neck after he came. You kissed the top of his head sweetly before cupping his face in your hands.

"I love you so much", you heard him said out loud. Oikawa's soft gaze looked straight into your eyes, and he kissed you on the lips tenderly. "I'm sorry for the fight we had yesterday. It was immature of us. Today's your important day, and I just had to ruin it."

You shook your head gently, "No, no, no, Tooru. It's our faults for acting like kids. We should have talked about it like adults. I promise we'll talk about it after we clean up and get the hell out of this place, yeah?" You chuckled lightly when you saw his lips slowly forming into a smile.

He nodded, "Yeah, let's clean up." Oikawa then helped you clean up, and only he came out of the shower stall fully clothed. You looked around the empty locker room. How long were you in there with your boyfriend? There's no way they would listen to your moans, right?

You dried yourself and put on comfortable clothes you stored in your backpack. You checked your phone and saw tons of messages from your friend. Your eyes widened upon reading her text messages. Oikawa peeked over your phone and laughed. "They caught us, huh?"

"I know you're in there with Oikawa. I saw he got into the locker room before we got in. Thank goodness I was the only one who saw him."

Sent 6.48 p.m.

"For fucks' sake, Y/N. Keep it down. The whole room can hear you. What the fuck."

Sent 7:09 p.m.

"We all just laughed and pretended nothing happened. God, you guys, are a disgusting piece of shit. Get a room, fuckers."

Sent 7:15 p.m.

"We're taking our leave. Don't forget to lock up. Oh, yeah, don't forget your birth control, bitch. Nasty ass bitch. Gross. Text me when you're done. ASAP!"

"Jk. Text me when you're home safely."

Sent 7:31 p.m.

You brought your hands to your face. Your face turned hot in embarrassment. Your greatest fear had just become real, and everyone in your team now knows how nasty you are. "God, Tooru, please, we can't do that again," you said silently. You bit on your fingers because you were so embarrassed by what had just happened.

Oikawa let out breathy laughter, "And I'll gladly do it again."  He relaxed his tensed shoulders, "Relax, baby. They won't judge you, trust me. Let bypast be bypast."

You looked at him in disbelief, "Bypast your head!" you gave him a knock on the head.

He laughed when you got mad at him. "God, I am so in love with you." He grabbed your hands and squeezed them firmly. "It's okay. They won't judge. Trust me, baby. Now, let's lock up and send you home."

The following day, your team gave you a questionable look on their faces. They teased the heck out of you, especially your friend. God, you have never been so mad at your boyfriend for ruining your image. But, it's a risk you're willing to take.

"Nasty", your friend teased you by poking your sides. You chuckled, "Yeah yeah, whatever."

[samwilsondiaries]

; hope

© @cityofember

sam wilson x fem!reader. masterlist.

summary. after saying nothing but the truth to the Senator, Sam gives you the interview of your life.

words. ± 700.

warnings, tags. after tfatws 1x06!reader insert. fluffy as hell, the end we all deserve.

a / n: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

You were in New York covering the news about the Flag Smashers, although Sam asked you to not do it and to stay away as much as you could. But knowing he was going to be there pushed you to the big city. You didn't care anymore about those terrorists —like your Channel used to call them—, you wanted to make sure that your boyfriend was safe. Especially after watching him on his brand new suit, taking Captain America's mantle, lifting the truckload with all those politicians inside it.

You glanced at him among the crowd of reporters trying to have ten seconds of an interview with the greatest Sam Wilson and, even if you wanted with all your strength to keep a stiff upper lip when he found you some steps away between your colleagues, a tear of relief ran down your cheek. At the point Bucky palmed his back to come closer, your trembling fingers were tightly gripped around your mic. You couldn't help but lick your bottom lip, hardly sniffing through your nostrils, trying to be professional.

Sam wasn't a man who liked, nor enjoyed attention. Even less when it came from the news, which many times had covered too many injustices, justifying them by he, or she, or they were a menace. But he wanted to talk with you and it was the only way to do it without being followed by the other reporters.

“Mrs. Wilson, does this mean you're the new Captain America?” A colleague from Channel Five asked, placing his mic close to him.

“Yeah, looks like”. Your boyfriend joked, looking at you sideways.

“How does it feel to be a black man taking the shield of Steve Rogers, nowadays? It's a big responsibility!” Of course, that question was raised from behind you. Cindy Preston, who worked for the news in prime time, always wanting to earn all the attention.

“I think I've already replied to that question, ma'am”. Sam tried to be respectful as he was by nature, before finally turning at you.

“Mrs. Wil— Mrs. Wilson…” You whispered at first, having to swallow to find more encouragement. “Mrs. Wilson, for Good morning, America, I don't have any question. I just want to say thank you for giving us hope”.

You talked with your heart in both hands, receiving a bunch of words of affirmation around you. And when your boyfriend smirked at you, you were conscious that you could die right there, right now, and die being the happiest person in the world. You puckered your lips in a somewhat ashamed smile, watching him trying to say something back, babbling in silence till Sam ended up giggling with his head bowed down.

He turned at Bucky, who was still behind him, resting his vibranium arm against an ambulance enjoying the show happening in front of his eyes. The sergeant shrugged his shoulder, not being able to glimpse at the silent question your boyfriend made him. When he faced you again, suddenly, all the noise, the calls, the questions about his new job (...) disappeared as if the world went silent. Shortening the distance between the two of you, Sam placed an arm around your waist and landed his other hand on the back of your head.

Your lips met in a kiss of pure adoration for each other, relief because both were safe and sound, and shyness caused by the claps and whistles all around you, bringing you back to reality as your microphone fell to the floor at the moment you needed to place your hands on the sides of his neck. You couldn't help but shed some tears, tightening your fingers nailed to him, feeling proud and lucky because, after all that time, the world was going to see him as you used. As the man who was going to be the change. The change the world needed. And even so, Sam didn't care about all the media spotlight filming the unexpected scene, resting his forehead on yours.

“Still want'n to marry me?” He whispered almost brushing your lips with every syllable that made your heart race.

“Yes”. You didn't hesitate. How could you? He was the love of your life, the one you wanted to be old with.

Your boyfriend was scared about your reply, noticing it on the way his mouth curved up in alleviation. “Let's go home, baby”.

a / n: thank you for reading! if you liked it, please, leave a comment and reblog it, i'd really appreciate it.

tag list: @whoreforsamwilson @naboo-nights @natashadeservedbetter @lazypeachsoul @phoenixhalliwell @wanniiieeee @morganayenneferburnham @puthyprincess @superhoeva @edencherries @fookinsuckmecockmate @peterssweetpea @pixieyosi @marvel-diaries @bionicbarnes @jamiereads @missroro @loudbluepancake @iinvisiblewings @strawb3rrydr3ss @mariahthelioness29 @tlcwrites @shizzybarnaclee @teti-menchon0604 @reichelhache @mack-jay @harami-mami

you can add yourself to my tag list in the link you'll find in the masterlist.

[pinkmirth]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ (ch.1 | feenin')

—𝑶𝑵𝑬.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | WK: 2.8K

Frenzied cheers buzzed throughout the raving auditorium, the basketball’s reverberating bounces against the slick court floor adding onto the thrill. This match was nothing but hyped, but in a good way so.

The sports chants of the college goers sounded rather foreign to you, since it wasn’t like you attended Stohess University anyway. The fellow audience around you were at the edge of their seats, hailing their team’s basketball players as the raving shouts began to sound borderline intoxicating. So much so that you couldn’t help but clap along to another school’s anthem.

“Havin’ fun?” Marco questions, the corners of his mouth upturned into a smile that showcased his quirky dimples. You beamed right back at the freckled male, plush lips curved into a grin of your own.

It all seemed trivial, just a friendly collegiate basketball match that your friends Jean and Marco had invited you to free of charge, but it was all the break you needed from your own studies and more.

“Hell yeah I am,” you chuckled in reply, “but you know what’d make it better?”

His doe brown eyes flitted between you and the vibrant box of candy in hand, which was seemingly low in supply after you and him dipped your hands in for a bite a countless number of times.

“A refill on these, yeah?” His claims were just as what you were thinking, earning your brief nod of agreement. Marco subtly shook the snackbox within his hold, the spare pieces left beginning to rattle around with the motion.

“You read my mind, Coco,” you grinned, rising up from your reserved seat with spare cash stuffed into your back pocket. “I’ll be right back, ‘aight?” He sends you a brief smile in compliance.

“Get the sour patch this time!”

“You got sour patch money..?”

He pursed his lips momentarily, unsure as to whether you had been joking or not. “M’just messing ‘round with you, Coco,” you snickered with a teasing grin, slipping a hand into your pocket to retrieve the few bucks. “It’s on me.” Was all you said before making your way through the crowded stands, descending down stair after stair.

“It’s only the first game of the season, and our pride and joy, the Stohess Scouts, are already dominating tonight’s guest competitors!” the commentator boomed through the mic, their voice adding onto the various noises that filled the gymnasium. “We’re calling for a halftime, but let’s keep our fingers crossed that Kirschtein can pull through with a fair amount of two-pointers by the upcoming final quarter—“

The mentioned name of your close friend makes you beam with pride, content that your Jeanie was the star of the show. You set eyes on the brunette from where you stood, who was now making his way to the sidelines for a desperately needed and duly earned swig of water, his light brown hair in a disarray of stray strands fraying out from underneath the simple hairband you’d given him a while back.

You eagerly began to flit down the stands to reach him, striding past the poor row of benched players, from the injured to the water boy.

Jean eventually takes notice of your arrival and instantly beams, subtle puffs of air leaving his agape lips after all the running and dribbling and such that came with game day.

The first thing you do is taunt upon your arrival,“Y’all had better win, Jeanie.”

As always, Jean only smirks. “You doubting that I won’t bring that trophy home, Pookie?” you playfully grimaced and let out a stifled laugh over the somewhat embarrassing nickname— one that you made up when the pair of you were seven, and it's the same one that he’s been holding onto for all these years, even at nineteen.

“Well, I’d be lying if I said you aren’t lookin’ pretty damn promising out there,” your reply is genuine, the soft grin that you display causing Jean to display one of his own. It was an affable, never ending cycle— you’d tease and he’d do it right back, until the both of you would laugh over it and depart with a brief smile.

“M’getting snacks, I’ll be back before the breaktime ends, okay?” Kirschtein briefly nods in compliance, sending a few adjusting tugs to the white basketball sleeve hugging his bicep before departing with the sharp squeak of his shoes sprinting against the court floor.

Once again, you find yourself strolling past every individual seated on the benches. You’re speed-walking alongside them, anticipating to retrieve a couple snacks for you and Marco, until something— Someone catches your eye.

It was brisk and almost too sudden, but flashes of green meet your line of vision. You managed to make out the blur of thick brows, long dark hair having been thrown into the messiest attempted bun, a modest, charming smile, and a pair of turquoise irises that seemingly peered into your own with an intensity that made you take it personal. Yet, you hardly even caught a good glimpse of their face, whoever they were.

You passed by said person a good thirty seconds ago, already pushing your way past the double doors and over to the vending machines stationed along the semi-populated hallway, but that striking gaze was still heavily implanted within your mind.

Hazy green-grey eyes, you recalled, accompanied with them shooting you the briefest grin just as you whisked by. Though, as recent as it was, that was all in the past now.

You glance around to see a decent handful of people here to buy food of their own, being perched at other vending machines. The snack-wielding contrivance before you isn't drawing much attention and doesn’t have an awaiting crowd standing around for a bag of potato chips, so you withdraw the dollars from your back pocket and attempt to straighten them out a bit before inserting them into the slot.

“Wow,”

This sudden breathy gasp from a “random whoever” is something that you take notice of, but it isn’t enough to rip your attention away from your scavenge for Marco’s sour patch. To their dismay, you do nothing but continue with what you came to do. In your opinion, whoever that was had been getting a bit too close for comfort..

Albeit the evident way you choose to ignore, another whistle resounds, along with an unpleasantly suggestive hum. It sounds somewhat louder, and it seems much closer than before. You can’t help but tear your gaze away from slot E7 and look up, since it seems so directed towards you.

You've hardly turned around before being met with the abrupt presence of a stranger uninvitingly looming beside you, the man’s beaming grin seeming sickeningly sweet. Almost too approachable.

“Oh, I’m sorry to pop up out of the blue,” his apologies come out within a chuckle, and as inviting as he attempts to seem, your brows only furrow. “—but you really caught my attention!” He was greatly unfamiliar to you, some white male around your age with shaggy auburn hair and chestnut colored eyes in contrast. Despite his subtle charm, you weren't growing a liking to him and his stupid little smile.

“Oh,” You muse with a dull hum, pursing your glossed lips before releasing them with a slight pop, “Did I really?” His nod is too enthusiastic, and you hardly try to cover up the mug-like expression that overtook your features, eyes grazing across his plain face uninterestedly. You promptly slide the dollars right back into your pocket, “Nice to know. Can you mind your own now?”

“Wait! I'm not meaning to be a bother, but.. I don’t see girls like you around much..” You're instantly encased with a shiver of deep cringe, one that annoyingly scurries up your spine and makes your lip twitch into a vexed glower.

You emitted the most exaggerated huff, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, all the while glancing at the sheen glass of the vending machine to see your own reflection. It was plastered all across your face, yet this dense-ass man still couldn't get it; you were pissed-off.

Great. You internally groan, Another snow roach who thinks I’m exotic.

“I really appreciate how different you look,” Was he really still rambling on, despite knowing damn well that you were growing uncomfortable? Or maybe, he was just an utter dumbass and couldn't take the painfully obvious hints.

“You wanna know what I’d appreciate, hm?” You say sharply, taking a swift inhale through your nose, “If you left me alone.”

Your smooth, placid voice was the first thing that Eren heard when he trotted into the hallway, that of which sounded dulcet and intriguingly accentuated, but more annoyed than anything else. He turns the corner and is met with the sight of a bastard that looked too smug for his own good, and a girl, such a pretty girl, whose melanated skin even found a way to gleam under the shitty fluorescent school lights.

It then clicks in Eren’s mind, briefly but distinctively. You were the person who'd strolled by the bench that he was sitting on earlier. You were also the same one who did a double take upon seeing him, glancing once— No, twice, with those captivating eyes of yours. He remembered the way his leg started to bop along the floor with a newfound excitement that he just couldn't place. Though, more than anything else, Eren recalled that he did the exact same; hold his gaze and grin at the sight of you.

“Ah, but you can spare me a minute more, can’t you?” You respond with the swift roll of your eyes, eliciting an exasperated groan, “Nigga, I said bye.” Eren’s thick, neat brows falter into a furrowed position, looking upon the scenario that was being splayed out before him, which everyone else in that hall was seemingly content with ignoring. It couldn't have only been him that saw that this bastard was relentlessly bothering you, could it?

“Woah, no need to get aggressive,” Eren’s expression contorts into a grimace upon hearing every little word, the tips of his ears red with brewing rage. Despite his matured will to control his daily outburst of emotions, it was safe to say that he'd never exactly gotten past his trial of anger issues since he was a kid.

“Listen, this is my nice way of tellin’ you to fuck off, but I can get aggressive if you want.” Your offer sounds downright threatening, “Do you really want that?”

You’re snappy and direct, and Eren can't deny that he likes that. Though, as much as he's growing fond of your strong will and defensiveness, he knows he can't stand idly by all day, he just can't. Besides, everyone knew well— It was practically Eren Jaeger’s forte to intervene.

The green eyed male eventually begins to make his way towards the scene in the form of subtle limps, being cautious of his ankle sprain as he grows closer, which was the reasoning behind him being benched in the first place.

You were much too preoccupied with that cheeky, unrelenting bastard to notice the way that Eren was gradually coming over, anyway. What could he say? He was a fan of the element of surprise.

You halt in the middle of your opposing rant, growing aware of another’s emerging presence. You're yet again bombarded with somebody else making their way beside you with an act of stealth that you were unknowingly soon to be thankful of.

Before you get the chance to merely peer in their direction, tall, a long haired male clad in the black and grey Stohess basketball uniform is towering alongside you, his toned, burly arm slinking around your shoulder.

This sudden proximity leaves your head spinning in the best way possible, and how could it not? You don’t know a single thing about this alluring stranger, but he’s close, so close, and it gets your heart and mind racing miles in a minute. You were subtly, but instantly enraptured once the weight of his arm rests comfortably upon you.

Eren doesn’t pay the confused male not one glance, but instead tends to you and your own state of delighted shock. “Play it cool, alright? I wanna help.” Your breath instinctively hitches once he leans down to ease out his whispered plan into your ear, flashing you a consoling half smile.

You return a brief nod before dragging your eyes along the male’s face, which looks so much better up close. Your interpretation of his image was more literal and precise than you thought to be; The dark, long tresses that had been pulled back with the aid of a thin elastic scrunchie, his expressively thick brows, pink lips that upturned into a supportive smirk, and those sea-green eyes that left you feeling weak right in the knees.

Albeit Eren’s prior grin, he eventually turns his attention towards the unrelenting man for a second or two. In that moment, his expression speedily grew all the more intense, practically sharper than before, and contorted into something of a scowl. Although, you can tell he’s trying so hard to channel his temper and mask away his revulsion.

“I’ve been, ah.. waiting for you to come back to your seat!” Eren begins to improvise, flashing you a subtle gleam that made it seem as though the pair of you were familiar with each other. “S’been a while since then."

He purses his lips within a pause, nimble fingers draping along your shoulder before shooting you a reassuring squeeze, "Is it ‘cause this bastard is keeping you occupied? He’s bothering you, isn't he?”

You're damn near close to stammering over the words that were bound to leave your mouth. Though, it doesn't take much for you to regain yourself. Your lips fall slightly agape all the while you briskly dragged your line of vision along his charming features, but your response follows after in a quick manner. It was just that you couldn't help how his unnerving gaze left you mesmerized.

“—Yes. Yes he is.” You hum, accompanying the claim with your hands crossing over your chest as you leaned into his grasp, in an attempt to appear convincing. Your confession sounded assured and stern, which was the complete opposite of how girls would act around him.

Eren knew well of the doting effect that he had on females— It was hard to forget when he’d merely ask for a spare pencil and wind up with an unasked phone number in return. Though, he admired the way you saw him as any other person and played along so well.

The brown-haired male scornfully laughs, and just the sound of him leaves you feeling uncomfy, “Whaddya' mean? We were just having a small chat, isn't that right?” Your contorted expression is full-fledged disrespectful, and Eren has to stifle his chuckle over your unsmiling glare and scrunched up nose. Damn, were you entertaining.

“Small chat, huh? Well, it was real one sided..” You voice out an irked murmur, “You're over exaggerating, you just haven’t warmed up to me yet—”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Eren makes a very much intended interruption, “I’d say that she doesn’t want to mingle with a sorry bastard that should leave her alone already.” You note at the subtle flex of Eren’s clenching jaw, signifying the way his already weary patience was running rather thin.

“Bastard—? Wait, who even are you?”

“Who am I, huh?” scoffs the green eyed male alongside you, a twinge of drawled hesitance in his voice. Eren pauses momentarily, only now beginning to realize that his little hero act wasn’t as planned out as he thought to be.

What could he say that would be persuasive enough to get this sorry fucker to leave you alone other than throwing fists unnecessarily? Jaeger’s emerald-hued eyes eventually light up in the dawn of an idea. One that he’s somewhat unsure of, but it’s much better than nothing.

Besides, this plan of his had been set in stone by the very moment he had draped his bare arm around you and shot you that all-too-suggestive smile, so he might as well finish what he started.

Eren’s touch trails downwards swiftly, spreading riveting tingles from your shoulder down to your forearm, then along your wrist, and even past there. His hand is now encasing the left side of your hip as his lithe fingers press into the curve of your supple waist. He takes a light inhale, giving you a light squeeze with his large palm, as though signaling for you to brace yourself over what he was bound to say.

“—I'm her boyfriend.”

—𝑭𝑰𝑵.

[bill-y]

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

[ We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family. ]

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part three: Click this, Rumtumtugger.

Part four: you're here, jennyanydots

Part five: Clicky dicky here, buddy

Wattpad account: L0calxDumbass

Those words left my mouth without much thought. I wasn't thinking of the damned consequences at the moment.

Behind me was Kunal, an iron grip on my leg, bawling his eyes out. "Y/N! NO! NO! YOU CAN'T GO!" he pleaded, his cries getting louder by the second. 

My hand ruffled his strawberry blonde hair, messing it up. "Let go, Nal," I said in the calmest tone I could muster. He shook his head, tears running down his cheeks, I cleared my dry throat, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry as if I just ate a handful of salt, which was honestly a luxury.

My face remained stoic, the moment I show a sign of distress I know the people in the Capitol would eat it up like good bread. It entertains them, our suffering entertains them. 

His hands slipped from my leg, gripping on my pants before he was finally taken away from me. "Up you go, Owl eyes," said Gale, his voice trying hard to remain steady. Beside him was Katniss, who was holding Kunal by the shoulders. She nodded, "Good luck, Y/n,"

I nodded, before looking back at the temporary stage. "Oh well, Bravo!" Effie exclaimed. "That's the spirit of the games!"

She was thrilled, finally seeing some action from this district. It made a pit in my stomach, I clenched my jaw. If only the roles were reversed, Capitol people fighting for their lives instead of us.

Oh, how funny that would be.

I strode to the stage, trying my best to look collected. The foreboding feeling in my stomach only grew with each step I took, my hands sweating as if they've just been dipped into water once I finally took my place.

"Do tell us your name," Effie said, her grin widening as she nodded, encouraging me to talk. It took all the will power I had to not strangle her.

"Y/n Greyback," I replied dryly, hoping it would set her off.

“I bet my buttons that was your brother. Don’t want him to steal all the glory, do we? Come on, everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!” she trilled, making me clench my fists.

Her words were met with silence. No one clapped, not a noise can be heard. Even the ones who would usually bet on who would wound up as a tribute didn't do anything.

I held back a smile, a surge of hope flowing through me. This was the most rebellious thing they could do without getting punishment of any sort. Silence.

Silence doesn't mean fear or that we're cowards. It meant that we do not accept this, we do not condone.

Just as my father always said, one does not need to shout to make a change.

The next thing that happened was even more of a surprise. Maybe it was because I was a son of a "rebel", maybe they pitied my family or maybe it was because I talked to the mayor's daughter.

Just one, then two, then a group almost all of the crowd put the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and held it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.

My tense hands relaxed a sense of calm washing over me. We were united in a strange way, something I thought would only happen in my dreams.

"Look at him! Look at this one!" Hollered Haymitch, throwing an arm around my shoulder. His arm was quite heavy, understandable, he's a wreck. "I like him!"

The scent of alcohol from his breath was strong, or maybe he just smelled of alcohol. "Lots of. . ." He paused, trying to think of a word.

I cringed as he slightly swayed around, trying my best to not touch him. "Spunk!" he declared triumphantly. "More than you!"

He released me, staggering to the front of the stage. "More than you!" He declared once more, pointing towards the camera.

Was he talking to the audience? Or maybe he was addressing the Capitol. I wish it's the latter, that would be funny.

Just as he opened his mouth to continue, he fell down the stage, knocking himself unconscious in the process. I snickered slightly, my face scrunching up right after.

Thankfully, the cameras were all pointed towards him, watching as they whisked him away into a stretcher. I took this moment to glare back into the distance, watching the scenery.

There was the hill that me, Katniss and Gale were just at. It looked so peaceful, contrary to my day.

"What an exciting day!" Effie warbled, trying to fix her tilted wig. It looked ridiculous. Why would Capitol people, no, why would anyone wear that?

It looks ugly, like a beaten up squirrel. Though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't eye-catching, though, beaten up squirrels are also eye-catching. “But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our next tribute!” she continued, putting one hand to the second bowl.

Her fingertips grab the first slip it encounters. I hoped it wasn't Gale or Katniss. I didn't want to kill them, not that I'd ever stand a chance.

Katniss was extremely skilled with the bow, she could probably shoot my head from miles away. Gale, on the other hand, was strong, compared to him, I had the strength of a broken twig.

"Peeta Mellark," She read. Oh no. Why him? Of all the people in this district. His father just "introduced" me to him this morning, not just that, I knew him.

I watched him make his way up the stage, I had a clear look at him this time. He had a stocky build, medium height,  ashy blonde hair that falls in waves over his forehead. The shock of the situation registered on his face, though you could tell that he was alarmed by the way his blue eyes looked.

Like a prey knowing it'd be hunted.

Despite this, he still manages to climb up the small flight of stairs calmly.

Effie Trinket then asked for volunteers, but no one spoke up. He has two older brothers, I've seen them. But one is probably too old to volunteer, and the other just wouldn't. This was standard family devotion, what I'd done was a radical thing.

The mayor began to say the same old words he always says every reaping day. I couldn't help but think, why him?

I remember it all too well, that day, it was raining up a storm, the wind was howling. My mother and my brother were left at home, I was tasked to find food for us since my mother couldn't bear to show her face to the district.

How could she? Her husband has been executed for rebellion against the Capitol. One of the peacekeepers found weapons under his possession and he was killed. He managed to convince them to spare us, though sometimes I wished it hadn't worked.

Within a week of his death, we began to lose money, and therefore, food. Nobody wanted to help us, nobody wanted to associate with the family of a tyrant.

Shame, the family name bared shame. My mother didn't have the gall to go out and sell any of my father's things, my brother was too young to even understand what was going on.

I was angry. How could they have just taken everything away from us that easy? Who gave them the right to do that?

But at that moment, I couldn't afford to sit still and wallow in my resentment. That was a luxury I couldn't afford. not many could afford it either.

Starvation was a fairly common thing in district 12, though the amount of covering up the peacekeepers do no one a favour and fools no one.

There I was, a boy who wasn't even old enough to be registered into the pile walking around in the harsh weather, stripped away from my dignity and whatever money we had.

I found myself in the Mellark's bakery, being told off by the baker's wife, who was tired of having brats from the Seam paw through her trash. I would've screamed back then, but I didn't want the Peacekeepers called on me.

So I left without another word, sitting at a tree for some sort of cover from the harsh rain.  I remember the snorts of the pigs beside me, and that was when I realized I'm no better than cattle; the people of Panim were no better than cattle.

My knees buckles as I collapsed onto the wet grass, shuddering from the cold and the harsh reality. Maybe I had gone insane then, but I vaguely remember talking to the pigs, ranting to them.

They didn't listen, they were too busy rolling in the mud. Looking back, I find this extremely funny, but maybe that's because I don't want to pity myself.

I didn't even notice a boy until the pigs actually rose to eat the pieces of bread thrown at them. I stared at him for a long while, mainly because of the burnt bread, the crust was scorched black.

But a red mark on his cheekbone caught my attention. Had they hit him for burning the bread? My parents have never hit me, I couldn't even imagine what that would feel like.

He took one look at the bakery as if checking if the coast was clear before he turned back to the pigs. Though instead of feeding the pigs he tossed the loaves of bread to me.

I watched him walk towards the bakery and closing the kitchen door tightly behind him. All I could do was stay silent, before shoving them up to my shirt, muttering a broken thank you as I ran home.

The loaves had cooled by the time I got home, but that didn't matter. We had something to eat. Mother looked at me, relieved I didn't die. She hugged me, apologizing.

I didn't care though, we had food, that's what's important.

And for the first time in weeks, we had a proper meal.

I was thankful, the fact that he'd probably burnt the bread on purpose never occurred to me until I crawled onto the bed, staring at the wooden ceiling. An act of kindness, someone still cared.

It was as if spring came overnight, fluffy clouds, blue sky, the warm sweet air. At school, we would always catch each other's gazes. I felt a tad bit bad, his cheek was swollen and his eye had blackened.

I couldn't come up to say thank you, instead, I watched him from a distance, contemplating whether I should. When I went to fetch Nal, out eyes met once more, I was about to mouth a thank you until Nal tugged my shirt.

He handed me a dandelion. He's always loved flowers. His love for it made me realize how I would get the food we needed. All that time I and my father spent in the forest won't be for nothing.

To this day, I still feel as if I owe my family's life to him. I had honestly given up, but he gave me something. Peeta Mellark, the boy who gave me bread and the dandelion, both gave me hope.

Maybe if I had said thank you all those years ago I wouldn't be feeling so guilty now. I could always say it but something about thanking him whilst I'm practically holding a knife against his throat seems dishonest.

The mayor finished his speech, telling us to shake hands. His were as warm and firm as those loaves of bread. He squeezed me as if reassuring me. Or maybe those were just nervous spasms.

We turn back to the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

There are twenty-four of us fighting in that arena, as grim as it is, let's just hope someone kills him before I'm forced to. I don't wanna kill the reason I've survived all those years.

Word count: 2026

Tags:

@nin3s

Sorry for the late update my exams are next week and im rushing to finish my requirements at school. :"

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 144

After much demand, Kink Night at the Undine has arrived. This chapter is really fun, was informative to write, but if you need to skip it, you won’t miss out on the overall story. So, trigger warnings on this chapter for:

- Bondage (mentions of)

- Pegging (possible mention of?)

- Impact play (discussed, both done wrongly and demonstrated correctly)

- Topping and bottoming

To be clear: These are all mentioned from the perspective of a non-participant, non-voyeur. I would probably overall rate this chapter appropriate for 14 years and older, but your mileage may vary. However, kink in general can be very healthy if done correctly, and this chapter was double beta-read, not only by @baelpenrose but also by @charlylimph-blog for accuracy of the scene.  This actually prevented a PROFOUND mistake from making it to queueing, so I am super grateful for their help.

Once I was released from medical after an unnecessarily long lecture from Noah, I found I had a message waiting from Charly with a date and time to meet at the Undine.  Right below that was a message from Sebastian with a uniform-slash-dresscode of sorts.

Aw nuggets. I had forgotten what night it was. 

There wasn’t time to grab clothes from my quarters, but my office was on the way to the bar, so I stopped by to change.  Socks and shoes were a bit of a challenge, since I generally didn’t wear either, so I had to find a vendor to help me fill in the gaps.  Granted, shoes weren’t specified in Sebastian’s list.  However, there was exactly a zero percent chance that I was going to lend a hand at a kink party while barefoot. Just… no. Nope. Not happening.

I wiped my palms nervously against my slacks when I arrived, not sure exactly what to expect.  Charly and I had talked about it, but none of that knowledge wanted to make its presence known at the moment, apparently.  Instead, my mind kept drifting to what in the actual hell she had roped Arthur into doing.  The door opened entirely too soon to reveal a smiling Charly, who grabbed my arm and dragged me behind her to the small group already gathered.

All of my nerves were forced from my body by the sputtering laughter I fell victim to when I saw Arthur - I still had no idea what he would be doing, but he looked like someone took a post-apocalyptic movie hero and hit a button labelled ‘make him a villain’ a few too many times.  The leather jacket and motorcycle pants were fairly innocuous, since I knew he actually owned both and neither were terribly uncommon on the Ark.  Same thing held for the boots - they were just practical in the After and several people held on to that preference with a death grip.

“Cloak’s a nice touch,” I snorted, trying desperately to ignore the campier bits of his outfit.

I was dangerously close to losing it when he scowled and adjusted the laurel crown - I mean, really? - resting on his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have cut my hair this morning,” he muttered. “Damned thing won’t sit right anymore.”

Charly clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Okay, one more run through of what everyone will be doing!”

Sebastian nodded seriously and flicked a towel over his shoulder before handing me an apron. “Sophia has kindly agreed to prep the snacks, while I serve and clean behind people. She’ll clear any dishes in between batches, and one or the other of us will do a lap of the floor every fifteen minutes to ensure everyone is hydrated and there’s no need for medical attention.” He winked at the relief on my face.

Cooking, clearing plates, and momming people into staying hydrated. I could do that.

Arthur brushed off his pauldrons, only forcing me to confront the fact that they were shaped like skulls again, before straightening with aplomb. “I will be Dungeon Master, keeping an eye on everything from there,” he pointed to a scaffold that had been put into place over the bartop, “And intervening as needed if things get out of hand.” Without so much as a twitch of question from me, he explained. “Charly and Coffey can’t be everywhere at once, so I get to perch on high, look ridiculous, and play bouncer if Coffey can’t get there first.”

“Yep,” Charly nodded seriously. For all that she normally seemed built out of chaos and energy, this was Boss Lady Charly. “Let’s keep it safe, sane, and consensual across the board. Speaking of!” She pulled two badges from seemingly nowhere. “Soph, Bash, these are for you.” I took one and immediately grinned when I read it. Staff Only - I Do Not Consent. “If either of you want to play, go for it, but otherwise, probably wear those.  Sexy librarian and millionaire CEO are tropes that exist, so ya know - no confusion for anyone.  Any questions, concerns, cries for help?” When we all shook our heads, she clapped again. “Okay, off you go! Thanks everyone.”

Sebastian tilted his head toward the kitchen and I followed, wiping my hands on my legs again. “Thank you for agreeing to help with snacks.  I know Charly already told you, but I am not the greatest at finger foods that don’t make a mess or won’t be too heavy.”

I hummed for a second before making a few suggestions. “Macaroni and cheese bites, they’re about this big.” I made a circle about an inch and a half across with my fingers. “Just pop and go. Pigs in blankets, the kind with cocktail sausages… meatballs, but probably with lamb instead of beef.  Dumplings.” I shrugged. “Charly swears people actually bring food to these, so once that stuff starts coming in, it would just be portioning it and sending it back out.  We shouldn’t have too much actual cooking to do.”

He nodded and started grabbing ingredients. “So that leaves drinks, plates, and utensils.” When I reached for a rack of glasses, he stopped me. “No.  If one of us drops anything that can break, people can get injured.  I’ve been stocking up on fiber-based plates, forks, and spoons.  Drinks are going to be in those corn-starch gel pouches.”

“Dude,” I groaned. “Those things get so gummy.”

“Straws are real and do exist.”

“Besides, I can already tell someone is going to find alternative uses for those,” Arthur called from behind us. I swear, I could hear him smirking. “You can’t put humans, sex, and flavored liquid in the same room and not expect that.”

I shook my head with a smile, but he had a point. Once we shooed him away, work on the snacks went pretty quick.  Judging by the sounds coming from the main room, it was a good thing, too - furniture being dragged, then Arthur’s voice ringing out to welcome everyone.  Soon, Sebastian was swinging out of the kitchen door with the first trays, and true to Charly’s word, he came back carrying a plate of neatly stacked fudge, followed by Arthur carrying a covered container.

“Scratch the meatballs, someone brought an actual mountain of sausage balls,” Arthur grunted as he slammed the container on a flat surface before retreating.

“Not even a joke?” I mused.

“Must be slipping,” Sebastian grinned. “I mean, he said ‘balls’ twice…”

“Low hanging fruit!” a voice called from the main room.  It must have seemed entirely out of context to the crowd, but Sebastian and I were laughing as we started plating so he could carry more food out to the spots Charly had designated.

A timer went off, so I took the mac and cheese bites out of the oven, snagged a tray of drink-blobs, shoved a fistful of straws into my apron and took off to do my lap of the event.  There were already people taking a break, reaching gratefully for hydration.  Several times, someone would reach for one and pour it in a partner’s  mouth, and on one occasion, a woman offered it up like a gift to a bound man, both biting into it and drinking greedily.

I almost stepped on someone before I realized there was an actual pile of people on the floor. I diverted my eyes quickly from what I thought was an all-out orgy before my brain registered that I wasn’t hearing sex noises - just whispers.  Snapping my eyes back up, it took a moment to figure out that I had nearly stepped on the largest cuddle pile I had seen since my apartment on Insert Winter Holiday.  Crouching, I balanced what was left of the drink blobs on one hand while holding out the straws with another.  In no time at all, the tray was empty and I was heading back for more.

This time, food on one hand, drinks on the other, I exited the kitchen to see Charly wrapping up her rope-bondage safety lecture before starting to demonstrate different knots on a volunteer, with Charly in the role of the top for this scenario. Watching her calmly contort and restrain another human being while calmly explaining the psychology behind it was… kind of terrifying.  I had to constantly remind myself that this person volunteered and that Charly was experienced on both ends of the rope.  

One more sweep of the room landed me with only a dozen or so drinks left on top of a pile of empty trays.  I backed into the kitchen to sanitize and re-load the trays, only to hear Sebastian swearing. “Who the hell brought chili!?”

“Apparently someone thought it was a good idea,” I shrugged, baffled. I mean, it didn’t seem like a good idea to me, but this wasn’t exactly my area of expertise.  “Maybe we put it in bowls, set up a little station in one of the break areas, with toppings? Let people help themselves?”

“Bondage potlucks and chili…” He shook his head. “Trying to remind myself that I’ve seen weirder things, but…”

“I can promise you, they are having fun. And they’re hydrated!” I shook my mostly empty platter of blobs at him.

Sebastian went out to retrieve more food from the people who brought it, and I kept rolling sausages in dough.  “More fudge!” he crowed. “I snagged a piece of the first batch, and it was amazing.”

“You clearly do not see the irony,” I muttered where he couldn’t hear me. “Oh, heavens, no chili! But fudge… fudge is fine…”

The next time I was able to break free and take my designated lap, a slight bit more chaos had descended as everyone had gotten more comfortable.  Several of the more experienced were examining and complimenting each other on their knots and arrangements of their subs. Ivan and Jokul were doing…. Something… that involved Ivan in a gorgeous evening gown and Jokul with a gag in his mouth.  I was almost done with my circuit when a thud reverberated behind me and a black cloak whipped by.

“For the love of…” Arthur growled. I thought he was going to dribble the cowering man he was glaring at like a basketball, but instead he brandished a marker and made two quick X’s on a bare pair of buttocks. “Here and here. Only here and here.” With an irritated flourish, he wrote NOT HERE across the small of the attached back. “This will give someone kidney damage.  Specifically you if I catch you doing it again.” Ducking around to the face of the person he had just used as a whiteboard, he shook his finger. “And I’m not even going to apologize, because you have a safeword and you need to use it. First, last, and only warning, you two. If that hit had been any more than a nervous first tap, you wouldn’t even be getting that.”  Without a word, he snagged the cane sitting on the table nearby and took it with him. “They aren’t getting anywhere near the cane, fucking idiots. Gotta talk to Charly about those two…” he muttered as he blew back past me, so angry he didn’t even acknowledge that I was standing there.

I almost dropped the stack of empty platters when the Imperial March started playing while Arthur stomped back into his position over the bar. “Attention, Deviants!  Courtesy of some poor practices I’ve seen, I would like to invite Sir Coffey and his pet fae Charly to give us a tutorial on safe and proper impact play!”  Applause started as he beckoned them forward, Sebastian theatrically adjusting the lights to center in front of the stage.

I ducked back into the kitchen as Coffey’s voice rang out over the crowd, explaining yet again safewords and consent before launching into what toys were used how and where.  A little public humiliation never hurt anyone, I joked with myself. At least not for some of the people out there.

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[songfell-ut]

Rrrrrrgh Chapter 18 rrrrgh

I had to re-insert EVERY GODDAMN LINE BREAK ARGH it also took out all the italics. I’ll get those in a minute ;_;

(Watch out for arachnophobia, angst, aaaaand smut~~)

           For the eighth or ninth time, Frisk wished she had just said no. But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t back out now, so she kept walking, arms stiff at her sides.

At least she was almost there: she could hear rustling in the dark up ahead, and faintly musical sounds, like someone twanging a piano wire. Suddenly, her heel stuck on something, her shoe nearly coming off; the next moment, something else tickled her cheek. When she tried to brush it away, it wouldn’t come off her fingers. In the dim light, it looked like…a spiderweb?

           There was a high-pitched giggle overhead, and more webbing dropped onto her shoulders. The child was yanked off her feet, pulled straight up until she slammed to a teeth-rattling stop in midair. Heart pounding, head spinning, Frisk tried to tug herself loose, but it was no use: she was caught in the bouncy, gluey strands of…

…a really, really big spiderweb. And where there was a really big spiderweb—

           “Ahuhuhu~”

           Frisk turned her head as far as she could, and uttered a raspy sound as her gaze met five huge, mirror-shiny black eyes. It was a spider monster in frilly bloomers, ribbons, and pigtails—surprisingly cute, except for its fangs. “My! Whatever do we have here?” The giant spider leaned in closer, and Frisk watched in fascination as her reflection flickered in time with the monster’s blinks. “What brings a bite-sized human like you to my parlor?”

           The child couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spider monster’s eerie, fluid movements. It was balancing on the web, brushing crumbs off its sleeve, and dipping a pastry into a cup of tea it’d just poured for itself, all at once! “A-Are you Muffet?” she squeaked.

           The spider smirked, nibbling daintily on her pastry. “That’s me, dearie. Did someone send you to find me?” Her face creased into a scowl. “If that skeleton told you it would be funny to disturb us, I swear I’ll—”

           Something chittered, and Frisk couldn’t help squirming. Muffet gasped as a tiny shape emerged from the child’s collar. “Alphonse? Oh my goodness me! How did you get here?!”

           Frisk shut her eyes tight as the little spider crawled the rest of the way out of her shirt, followed by another, and a few more, and then what seemed like a thousand others. She could feel a tickly procession streaming up her neck and along her arms onto the web, where they swarmed around Muffet, making rapid clicking sounds.

           “They gave me a piece of paper asking for help,” the human explained, though the spiders were probably saying the same thing. “They were tired of the Ruins, but Snowdin is too cold, and it’s too expensive to get a heated carriage, so I gave some of them a ride to Hotland.”

           All five of Muffet’s eyes sparkled, and she clasped two legs in pure joy. “Oh, what a sweet little morsel you are! You’ve saved us thousands of g, just like that!” Frisk heard more chittering, and found herself being eased free of the webbing and lowered gently until she was back on the sticky floor. “I’m so sorry if I frightened you, dearie—most humans have a nasty habit of squishing spiders, but I didn’t know how very kind you were toward us!”

           “You’re welcome,” Frisk said, trying to pick the webbing out of her hair. The grownups had chopped almost all of it off before they left the castle; she’d hate for them to cut the webs out and make it look even worse. “My name is Kris. It’s nice to meet you.”

           The spider-lady was ignoring her, listening to what sounded like dozens of little voices at once. She didn’t have eyebrows, but her upper three eyes wiggled in almost the same way. “Really, now?” She regarded Frisk with new interest. “You wouldn’t happen to be ten years old, would you, dearie?”

           Where had that come from? None of the other monsters had asked her age. “Um…yes? I don’t know my real birthday, just the year.”

           The spiders must have understood her, because the noise increased, and Muffet tittered louder than ever. “How interesting~”

           “Why?” the child couldn’t help asking.

           “Ohhh, nothing, just a bit of gossip.” Muffet hopped onto a higher strand of webbing, crossing a pair of legs and pouring herself more tea. “Would you like something to eat?” She indicated a table with a pile of iced cakes and a sign reading 9,999 G. “No charge, just for you.”

           Was that a spider leg sticking out of the frosting? “I’m full, thank you,” Frisk lied.

           “Suit yourself, dearie.” For someone without any lips, the monster could slurp her tea quite loudly. “The spider clans don’t communicate with each other nearly as often as we should, but when someone manages to get here from the Ruins, they tell the most fascinating stories. Like the humans’ last visit here, eleven years ago—did you know that your King came with them? Supposedly, it was a group of minor nobles discussing repairs to the border fence, but no one notices spiders – except you, of course – and they hear all sorts of things behind closed doors~”

           The child frowned. “The King was here?” She didn’t think he’d ever been to the Underground; she’d just been glad he hadn’t come on this trip, though she was sorry the Queen was sick. It would’ve been so nerve-wracking to have to behave around him!

           “He certainly was.” Muffet licked a drop of tea from the fine hairs on her forelimb. “Yes, the King paid us a secret visit, and poor Chara was never the same afterwards. There was quite a commotion, you know, after he’d been gone a little while. They had to take her all the way to the Ruins so no one would hear her s—”

           There was a familiar chuckle behind Frisk. “ahh, muffet. putting the spy in ‘spider,’ huh?” Sans held out his hand, and Frisk gladly took it. “yeah, i dunno what she’s talking about, either. c’mon, kiddo, you shouldn’t be here. time to have a ferry good ride back.”

           “On the contrary,” Muffet said haughtily, “this wonderful child is welcome in my parlor any time. I would love to have her over for lunch!” Two sets of arms clapped their hands. “Go on home, dearie. Come and see me again sometime soon.”

           “man. you got a knack for making friends, ya know that?” Sans remarked as they stepped around the webs lining the floor. “i didn’t think she liked anyone who wasn’t rich, or fattening.”

           Frisk didn’t answer. The corridor had just enough bare, echoing surfaces for her to hear the last of Muffet’s conversation. “Not a word to anyone,” the spider was telling her family, or minions, or whatever they were. “I—what? …Why, yes, he would pay for that information. What a splendid idea! We could even give him a discount! Those glasses are so cute~”

           Frisk and Sans looked at each other, shrugged, and moved along to thinking up spider puns to unleash on Pap. It didn’t occur to Frisk until much later that Muffet had said “her”—the smaller ones hadn’t gotten that far under her clothes, had they?

Ah, well. She figured spiders must not know much about human pronouns, and they probably said strange, random things to everyone. It was nothing to worry about.

           Many years later, Frisk would remember that and wish she could smack her younger self upside the head. Not only was it racist, it was very incorrect, not to mention ungrateful. Spiders knew damn well what pronouns were, and nothing Muffet had said to her was random. She hadn’t even charged her for it…

 ~

             The hotel attached to Mettaton’s resort was unbelievably crowded that evening, the air warm and full of amazing smells. Sans had materialized by the fountain in the lobby, figuring it was long enough after dinnertime that there wouldn’t be too many people around. This turned out to be hilariously wrong: the line was still two or three deep at the food counter, the queue winding up and down the room and ending nearly out the doors. There wasn’t enough space for one boss monster to just appear out of nowhere, much less two, but here they were.

“My. Do you think they’ve gotten a room?” Toriel asked dubiously, releasing his arm and nodding to the monsters scrambling out of their way. “Should we check with the front desk?”

Sans glanced around, then relaxed and let his SOUL point him in a direction, like giving a hunting dog a scent to follow. Sure enough, his feet started toward the restaurant on the left side of the resort. “This way,” he grunted.

Luckily, at their size, they didn’t have much trouble getting through the crowd. Nor did they have to say anything to the restaurant’s maître d’: he took one look, bowed so deeply that he almost fell over, and walked ahead of them to harass the seated monsters out of their way.

They soon reached the far end of the room, where Frisk was holding court at a small table with Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, and a few others. To Sans’ delight, she had perched on the back of a heavy chair, confidently projecting her voice over the other diners. “So I finished the introduction, she came out onstage, and what did she do? She froze right there in front of everyone,” the human said, gesturing with her champagne glass.

This got quite a reaction. “Oh, please,” Mettaton said with a groan.

“Ha!” Undyne thumped the table. “Served her right! What’d you do?”

“I peeked out from behind the curtain, and I looked at her, and I went—” Frisk closed one eye and opened the other as wide as possible, flashing a demented smile, and the monsters cracked up. “She almost started laughing, and it was perfect, because that was where the Queen was bragging about how much everyone loved her!”

“Good evening, everyone,” said Toriel, walking ahead of Sans to join the others. “Forgive me, but, what was this?”

Cries of welcome rang out. “Good evening, Lady Toriel! I was telling them about my friend Mathilda,” explained Frisk.

Standing on the periphery, Sans drank in the sight of his human seated among the monsters, looking adorably tiny by comparison, but completely at home. She was more animated than he’d ever seen her at the castle, her eyes bright and hands in constant motion as she talked. It was everything they’d both hoped for when they came here.

And speaking of drinks, he also had to note all the open bottles of wine and other adult beverages around the table. He remembered ordering several crates of them, but he’d assumed they would be consumed at a slower rate than this; monsters couldn’t handle alcohol as well as most humans. Come to think of it, neither could Frisk.

Mettaton had gotten up to greet Toriel, and was bowing her into his seat; Sans was impressed with his manners until the automaton turned and shooed Alphys out of her chair so he could take it.

Justice came swiftly: Undyne waited for Mettaton to get comfortable, then kicked him under the table hard enough to make a metallic clang. “Never mind him. Here,” she said to Alphys, holding her arm out and patting her lap.

Toriel cleared her throat, and the scientist turned about five shades of reddish-orange. Practical as ever, Undyne got up to grab a chair from another table instead, ignoring its irate former occupant and cramming it between her seat and Frisk’s. “Ta-da!”

When Alphys was happily settled, Toriel gave the automaton and the Royal Guard Captain reproachful glances. “Your friend Mathilda?” she prompted.

Frisk smiled. “Yes, from St. Brigid’s. She wanted me to narrate the part of the spring pageant where she was playing the Queen—have you heard of The Sun Cycle?”

Toriel accepted a glass of red wine from the waiter. “The allegory about the two sisters? Of course. Did Mathilda have a case of stage fright?”

“Right after she spent ten minutes straight telling me not to be shy.” Frisk made another face. “I teased her about that for years.”

Toriel chuckled. “And rightfully so.”

Sans was busy staring at Frisk when she suddenly looked straight at him. “Sans?” He jumped, then scowled self-consciously as she shifted her weight. “I hate to make you stand there—is there anywhere he can sit?” she asked the group.

There was a general murmur and scooting-out to make room, but Sans waved his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. ‘s what I get fer bein’ late to the party,” he muttered.

The priestess frowned a little. “Well, if you’re sure…” She indicated a green jug on the table. “You wanted to try some hard cider, didn’t you? Now’s your chance.”

“’m fine,” he said gruffly, and she gave him a short nod before Mettaton reclaimed her attention with a question about human seating etiquette.

Sans wanted to smack himself on the cranium. Typical Frisk: she was mad at him, but still didn’t want him be to left out. Well, neither did he! It physically hurt to keep himself from going over and petting her hair, tucking that one bit behind her ear, asking how she was feeling…

Yeah, this whole staying-apart thing wasn’t fucking working. If he couldn’t have some time alone with her soon, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and teleport them both far, far away, which would probably look a little suspicious. What would it take to—

Alphys coughed. “S-So did the rest of the pageant go all right?”

Frisk sipped her champagne. “Oh, yes. I’ve always loved that story, and I didn’t have to be onstage, so I—” She paused and held the empty glass out, and another waiter swooped in to refill it. “Thank you.” Sip. “It was wonderful. We had a five-piece orchestra playing along, and the Queen’s song, ‘Daylight’s Lament,’ actually brought people to tears.”

Sans wasn’t thinking very straight, or else he would known better than to say, “Is that the mopey thing you’re always singin’?”

Everyone turned toward him, and he shrank back at the priestess’ expression. “Are you a musician, Frisk?” Toriel asked around her refilled wineglass.

“Yes, I was in the choir at school,” the human said, giving Sans a significant look. “The Sun Cycle had just been adapted into a musical, and we all nagged our teachers until they let us perform it.” She grinned ruefully. “It was the best political training I’ve ever had. If you want to delve into the darkest side of human nature, just tell a group of teenage girls that only one of them gets to play the Queen.”

They all laughed, though no one disagreed. “And Mathilda got it?” Sans asked, just to contribute.

“Yes, she did,” Frisk replied. Her feet swung back and forth a few times, drawing his attention again. “She tends to get what she wants.”

Trying to distract himself, Sans remembered something and asked, “Isn’t she the one who’s gonna replace you?” They looked at him in surprise, and he added, “Y’know, if you ever decide ta quit?”

That earned him another glare. “Yes, if I ever do. The only reason I became High Priestess and not her was that my magic was stronger. Otherwise, she’d have been perfect.”

“Now, now. I would think—no, I know that you’re doing an excellent job,” Toriel said warmly, and the priestess ducked her head.

“Wait a sec.” Undyne banged her mug on the table, startling Alphys. “Didn’t you say somebody tried to kill you ‘cause you’re the High Priestess? Aren’t you worried someone’ll come after her, too?”

“Well…not really.” Frisk made a complicated gesture. “It may sound cold, but you’ve never met Mathilda. She doesn’t have time to be assassinated. If the Church didn’t pay for a half-dozen guards everywhere she went, she’d just hire them herself and go about her day.”

“Nice,” said Undyne, but despite Frisk’s light tone, Sans wasn’t so sure about the way she was frowning into her champagne glass. Did she feel guilty for being so cavalier about her friend’s safety?

…No, that wasn’t it. He had a sudden attack of insight: Frisk wasn’t only in danger because she was the High Priestess; she was also in the way of people who profited off monsters. Did Mathilda have different views on the subject – maybe more safe or conventional ones – that would keep her from being targeted?

What about the person who had paid to keep Frisk safe? He still had to tell her about that, too, assuming he ever got the fucking chance!

That was enough of that topic. What else could they talk about? “How’d it go in the lab today, Al?” he asked.

This time, they all looked at him as though he’d thrown dog turds onto the table, and a couple of the other monsters actually got up and left. His stupid, tired, frustrated mind took a second to catch up: everyone knew that Alphys had been testing Frisk’s magic, and as much as they liked and hopefully trusted the human by now, they didn’t want to hear about her barriers.

“Um…” Alphys fidgeted with her mug of spiced cider. “You were r-right. I couldn’t even quantify how much f-force she could potentially withstand. It’s honestly still hard to believe.”

“Yeah, it turns out she’s even better than we thought,” Undyne said defiantly, and raised her mug. “Toast: to Frisk being on our side!”

Frisk raised her glass in reply, downing the rest of the champagne in one gulp, and everyone with a drink quickly followed suit. As the waiter came back for more refills, Sans nodded his thanks to Undyne; she stared at him, then drew her thumb across her throat to indicate that he was dead. He shrugged, agreeing that that was fair.

Alphys fidgeted again. “Actually, Sans, I’d like to t-talk to you about that sometime soon. Alone, m-maybe?”

The skeleton blinked. “Uh…okay.” Now that a few chairs were empty across from Frisk, he walked over to shove them aside and sit down on the floor, putting his eye level only a foot or two below the others. Why would Alphys need to talk to him alone? If she wanted more data, why not include Frisk? He’d have to find out later.

Undyne scowled, half-turning to drape her arm over Alphys’ shoulders; the lizard monster turned a few more colors, then leaned into her. Good for them, thought Sans, with only a twinge of jealousy. “I remember when I was a kid and I used to snoop around in my parents’ room,” Undyne continued. “My mom got fed up and told me there was a human hiding in her closet. Not only did I stop sneaking in there, I’d run past their door to get to my room!”

Sans forced himself to join in the laughter. “Poor Pap,” he remarked. “When he was a kid, I got him that pirate bed, and he wouldn’t stop jumpin’ on it in the middle of the night. I didn’t wanna take it away, so I said there was a human under it ‘n Pap was gonna wake him up.”

“Sans,” Frisk scolded him, but she was smiling now.

“It’s true,” he said gleefully. “The next night, I found him makin’ a decoy to throw into bed so he could go hide in the closet.”

Undyne guffawed, and Toriel shook her head, though she was also smiling. “That poor child! Tell me he isn’t still sleeping in the closet, Sans!”

“He’s not. I made a big deal about talkin’ with the librarian and finding out humans are scared of books about Fluffy Bunny. We read one every night from then on, and whaddya know? The human never got ‘im,” the skeleton said proudly.

They laughed again, and the last of the tension dissipated. “Speakin’ of Papyrus, where is he?” Sans asked, feeling guilty for not noticing sooner. “Hope I didn’t miss ‘im on his way home.”

Mettaton couldn’t drink, so he had spent most of the conversation checking his face paint; he sighed theatrically, putting the mirror away in his chest compartment. “He got drunk already, the poor dear. I sent him upstairs to sleep it off.”

Sans didn’t have to fake a grin. “Makes sense. It only takes half a mudslide to get him started tellin’ everyone how bad my jokes are, and tellin’ the jokes ta prove it, and then gettin’ mad that he knows all my jokes by heart.”

“A ‘mudslide’?” Frisk repeated.

“Yep. ’s one of Grillby’s finest cocktails: magic ‘n mud.”

The human looked puzzled. “By ‘mud,’ you mean…?”

“Wet dirt,” Sans clarified.

“…You…drink…?” Frisk couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “What does that even taste like?”

Pause. “Mud.”

More laughter. Frisk’s nose was wrinkled, but she was still smiling; that was enough for Sans.

He didn’t want to ruin the mood by saying something else stupid, so he nodded to her and turned to survey the now-half-empty room. It must have been pretty late, because the maître d’ wasn’t letting anyone else in. The nearest table had just one person, and—

It was sitting there, out of nowhere, legs dangling over the side of the table. The demon-child locked eyes with Sans, hands resting on the knife in its lap, and it grinned.

Sans stared back at it, paralyzed. Through the fog of shock and terror, there arose a single thought: Are you fucking serious?! I don’t need this right now!

The thing shook its head. It looked meaningfully at their table – at Frisk – and back at him. It raised the kitchen knife, pointing at the side of its own head, and made a circling motion.

Sans managed to twitch with sheer rage as he recognized that childish gesture. The little bastard had come all the way here to tell him Frisk was crazy?

Its grin faded into a faint, superior smile. It lowered the knife and tapped on its sternum three times. Then it shifted around to face the human; to Sans’ bewilderment, it sat cross-legged and leaned forward on its elbows, ruby eyes glued to Frisk, as if waiting for a play to begin.

What was it doing? …Why was it doing? He had the feeling that it genuinely wasn’t interested in him for the moment. What did it think Frisk was going to—

“Sans?” Her voice snapped him out of it; the skeleton found he could move again. “What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” He looked at her, then back at the demon. It was gone now, of course. “Nothin’.” He glanced back and forth a couple of times just to be sure. What the hell was that about? The thing wanted to tell him that Frisk was nuts and Sans should check her SOUL? But…

Sans shook himself, turning to size up the room. Everyone was slightly to moderately tipsy, but relaxed, probably ready to call it a night soon. There was absolutely no sign of danger anywhere; even if there was, Sans couldn’t imagine a threat too big for him, Toriel, Undyne, and Frisk.

To hell with that thing. He wasn’t going to ogle her SOUL for no reason in front of everyone; somebody would notice and give him crap for it, she’d get embarrassed, and he’d have yet another thing to make up to her.

Toriel took a bottle of wine directly from a passing waiter and poured herself another glass. “Where are you staying tonight, my child?”

           The human brushed her hair behind her ear. Sans glanced at her, and his spine stiffened: she was looking right at him, her finger tracing the edge of her choker. “My things are still at Sans and Papyrus’ house, so I was planning to stay in Snowdin tonight at the inn.”

The skeleton tried to hide his sudden jubilation. She was telling him she’d have her own room, which meant some damn privacy at last! He’d have a chance to tell her things and apologize for being stupid about the chessboard, and then…choker, and—

           “Whaaat? You have an entire new wardrobe upstairs, and you want to go all the way back to that smelly wasteland?” Mettaton complained. Sans gritted his teeth as the automaton reached over to play with Frisk’s hair, sweeping it up with one gloved hand. “You know, darling, if you’d let me put this up for you, it wouldn’t keep getting in your way. Why don’t you stay here another night so we can figure it out?”

           “I’ll be fine, thank you,” Frisk said tartly, pushing his arm away.

           Mettaton pouted. “But what about—”

           “She said no, dipshit,” Sans snarled. “Not everyone has time to play dress-up.”

“Oh?” drawled the automaton. He sized up the giant skeleton and flashed a literally pearly-white smile. “I see. Well, if she absolutely must stop in at your hovel, be sure she has everything she needs. You know, her clothes, a few midnight snacks…plenty of socks?”

Undyne and Alphys nearly spat their drinks across the table. Sans twitched as though he’d been poked in the SOUL—which, in a way, he had. “Ya wanna die, ya friggin’ piece of—��

“Be nice, children,” Toriel mumbled. She covered her mouth for a massive yawn, nearly dropping her wineglass. “Speaking of wardrobes, Frisk, I had enough time after my nap this afternoon to go through Chara’s old clothes. I found several things that should fit you. Why don’t you stay over another night so we can try them on?”

           The human’s face was still red. “No, thank you, Lady Toriel,” Frisk said over the faintest murmur of “Socks” and barely-suppressed snickering.

           The former Queen sighed, too far gone in memory – and alcohol – to notice. “It would be so cute to see you in those dresses,” she murmured. “We can hem them up if we need to. You’re about the same size she was at…goodness, fourteen or fifteen!”

           “Yes, childhood malnutrition will do that.” Frisk accepted yet another refill from yet another waiter. “My mother took no care of me.”

           “You poor thing.” Toriel shook her head. “How I wish you could have stayed and grown up here! We would never have neglected you like that.”

Undyne sighed, propping her head on one fist. “Yeah, that would’ve been amazing.”

Mettaton also sighed, lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them. “For once, darling, we agree. She should know at least five times as many dances as I’ve taught her.”

Toriel hiccuped. Sans had always heard that drunk people did that, but never seen it for himself. “And she could’ve sang for us, too. My poor little angel—such a wonderful child!”

Frisk smiled, until Toriel went on, “Yes, I’ll always miss Chara. Did you ever get to meet her, Frisk?”

           No answer. Sans’ backbone prickled; he checked the other table, but the demon wasn’t there. He glanced at Frisk, and to his alarm, she was almost literally vibrating with tension.

Alphys was also squinting at the human, as if checking her. Whatever she saw made her eyes go wide, and she signaled frantically at Sans. “So, Frisk,” he said, too loud.

She looked up, startled. “Uh,” he said. Crap. Now he had everyone’s attention, and he had to say more words. This time, though, he made himself think first, settling on a topic so safe and dull that nothing bad could possibly come of it. “I just remembered—when I was passin’ stuff out with the Royal Guard earlier, we found a couple small discrepancies in the list,” he said casually. “I made some notes about it. Can you and Tori take a look real quick?”

           “Of course. I’m sure it’s fine, though,” Frisk said, giving him another smile. Then, as he started to reach into his coat for the invoices…

It was the tiniest movement, and he just barely caught it. She took too large a drink and slopped champagne onto the corner of her mouth, which she chose to lick off slowly, eyes on his.

           Sans would think of that moment and berate himself for years afterward. For one thing, he didn’t know or care how openly he was staring at her, or who was watching; more importantly, his hand kept moving while the rest of his mind did a belly-flop into a mire of absolute lust, all his resources suddenly diverted to socks and lace chokers and that cute little mouth…desperation to run his hands all over her again and find out if she still had that weird blood thing going, what her exact criteria were for it being the right time to—

Left to manage on its own, his hand knew only that it was supposed to get something for her out of his pocket. It encountered the papery thing he needed, and then another thing it knew was for her, and dutifully pulled both things out. He didn’t have enough concentration to use magic and send the invoices directly to her, so he tossed them onto the table with a solid thmp. “Pass that t’ Frisk, wouldja?” his mouth said.

A couple shreds of conscious thought worked themselves free, wondering why the papers had gone thmp. Paper wasn’t supposed to go thmp. What had he…

Oh. It was the heavy golden envelope, the one with the King’s letter for her.

           On the table.

…With her full name on the front.

Right by Undyne, who was reaching to pick it up, just like he’d asked.

           Time slowed to a crawl. Icy dread swept over him, and he raised his hand, knowing it was too late—Undyne had handed over the invoices and was already saying, “Heyyy, what’s this, boss?” Before he could stand up or regroup his magic, the Royal Guard Captain flipped the envelope around to read the calligraphy. “Fancy! Is it a love letter for—”

           She stopped. Sans’ SOUL shrank to nothing as the fish monster’s brows drew together. “Hey. Your Majesty?” she asked, raising her voice.

           Toriel finished her drink, trying to set her glass down and missing the table entirely. “Yes, Captain?”

           Undyne gave a puzzled half-smile. “Did you adopt Frisk or something?”

           Frisk looked up from the invoices. The goat monster glanced at her, then chuckled. “Why, no, not that I’m aware of.” Toriel was smiling, too, clearly waiting for a punchline.

           Sans snatched at the envelope with a burst of red magic and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey, Frisk! Guess what? Time ta go!”

           Frisk started, and had to catch herself before she fell off the chair. “What? Why do—”

           “Then how come she has your last name?” asked Undyne.

           Silence. Toriel and Undyne were awkwardly smiling, each waiting for the other to speak and growing more confused as the seconds ticked by.

Alphys frowned, then peered at Frisk, who was staring at the panicky skeleton. “Sans,” the human said softly. “What is she talking about?”

Sans was still sitting on the floor, and couldn’t get up; he felt sick as Frisk stepped down from her perch and came over to him. “What do you have there?” she asked, even softer.

           His hand moved on its own again to pull out the envelope. “’s a letter,” he mumbled. “I was gonna give this to ya later, when we talked about—”

           Frisk snatched the envelope and turned it over. He forced his sockets to stay open as her face went pale, then stark white. Slowly, her head lifted until their eyes met. “I didn’t mean ta get it out yet,” he said helplessly. “It was an accident. I’m—”

           “Where did you get this?” she asked carefully. “When did you get this?”

           “Yesterday. From…from Dr. Serif. He met me in the village to help get all the stuff ready, and the King gave it to ‘im ‘cause he thought you’d be—”

           “This is from my father?” Frisk stared at the dark-gold calligraphy, then at him. Sans just stared back, letting his silence speak for itself.

           Alphys squinted one more time at Frisk’s chest. Then she bolted from her seat, skittered around the table to Mettaton, and latched onto his arm. “You need to get everyone out of here! Right now!” she hissed.

           The automaton quirked a lacquered eyebrow at her. “Are you joking? This is the most—”

           “I said now!”

           Toriel and Undyne watched Mettaton scramble out of his chair, leap straight into the middle of the room, and strike a pose. “Hello, beauties!” he called to the remaining twenty or so diners, giving Alphys a nervous glance. “This is your lucky night! We’re going to have a scavenger hunt, and the prize is me—one candlelit dinner with yours truly! Follow me to Paradise!”

           Alphys breathed a sigh of relief as the monsters trooped out, dragging the waiters and the protesting maître d’ with them, and the doors slammed shut. The royal scientist gestured to Toriel, then Undyne, who had come around to their side of the table. “We should leave, too,” Alphys said urgently.

           “What?” The goat monster frowned at her, and at Frisk, whose shoulders had hunched. “Are you all right, my chi—”

           “Yes!” They jumped as Frisk whipped around, clutching the envelope to her breast, giving them a dreadful smile. “Yes. Yes, I…I’m fine. I just need to—” She gulped. “Never mind. I have to talk to Sans.” She held her hand out. “Let’s go.” He didn’t move, and she said desperately, “Now? Please?”

           A tiny quiver of fear ran through him, and not just because he, personally, was in an absolute world of shit. He could feel the air around Frisk grow heavier, and for the first time in a long time, his instincts were urging him to back away. Her magic was building rapidly, as if she was getting a barrier ready, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose. What did she—

Oh, crap. Not only were they Underground, where magic was naturally stronger than above, she was already at least a little drunk, and tired, and…well, “upset” would not begin to cover the fallout of his slip-up. Was Alphys worried something would happen? But…

Just to be sure, Sans took a long look at Frisk’s SOUL. For a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision, or he was just out of practice; then he realized that, for once, he was not the problem.

Her SOUL was a goddamn mess. It shone as bright and beautifully red as when he’d first seen it, but where it had been rock-solid with determination, it now looked more like a snowglobe that kept getting shaken up before the glitter had a chance to settle. Magic was seeping through her skin and beginning to tint the air around her, and if she was aware of it, she wasn’t even trying to control it.

Fuck. Alphys had been smart enough to keep an eye on Frisk’s SOUL when she started getting agitated about Chara—had the scientist noticed some instability when she was testing the human’s magic? Either way, she’d been scared enough to have Mettaton clear the room.

But it wasn’t as if the monsters should be scared of Frisk, was it? Sure, she seemed pretty volatile right now, but she was still Frisk! She would never hurt anyone! At least, not on purpose…

Sans couldn’t help glancing at the other table. Sure enough, the demon-child was back, grinning and clapping its hands in sheer delight. “Told you so,” it said gaily.

           Undyne coughed. “Uh…Frisk? Why’d your dad call you that?”

           Frisk gestured one more time, and Sans made himself look at her hand with a grim, apologetic shake of his head. His SOUL wanted to tear loose and go hide at the way her face contorted. “You’ve gotta calm down, kid,” he said quietly. He didn’t know how to explain in front of everyone that her magic was too thick for him to teleport her anywhere without touching her, and doing so right now would singe him down to the bone—probably straight through it. “Please,” he added.

           The priestess let her hand drop. She closed her eyes in resignation, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He called me that because I’m illegitimate, and I have to use my mother’s name.”

           Pause. Sans shuffled back a little as Frisk’s eyes opened again, taking in the monsters’ blank faces. “Oh, for God’s sake! Do I need to spell it out for you?” She brandished the envelope at them: FRISK DREEMURR. “That was Chara’s last name, and she was my mother!”

           The world stopped for a moment. Sans watched Toriel, breathless, painfully aware that her reaction was the one that really mattered. If she took Frisk seriously, then the priestess could probably recover her equilibrium and work through some of her feelings. If she didn’t—

           Toriel was frowning in bewilderment. Then…she started to smile, and Sans’ SOUL shrieked in panic: Nonono, don’t do it, don’t—

           The former Queen gave a polite little laugh. “I’m…sorry, my child, but…there must be some mistake.”

           The air crackled, not loud enough yet for the others to hear. Frisk gripped the letter harder, still holding it at arm’s length. “Why do you say that?” she asked, too calm.

           “Well…” Oh, crap. Now Undyne was smiling, too, only stopping when Alphys yanked on her sleeve. “Sorry,” the Captain said, “but c’mon. Chara never even had any kids!”

           “Yeah, she did,” said Sans, and the women looked at him in astonishment. Frisk’s arm fell to her side as he continued, “The humans who visited ‘bout twenty-four years ago had their King with ‘em, and he knocked her up. She hid it till the last second, ‘n then she gave birth in the Ruins so no one would see anything.” He glanced at Toriel. “Right?”

           It was hard to say who was the most shocked. “I thought Chara had me after she left the Underground! You mean I was born here?” demanded Frisk.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” barked Undyne. She looked at Toriel, whose eyes were huge, hands pressed to her mouth. “I-I mean—” The fish monster turned to Alphys. “Don’t humans get really big and weird when they’re pregnant? Wouldn’t we have noticed something?”

           “Not n-necessarily,” Alphys said, fiddling with her claws faster than ever. “It depends on the individual, and how the baby d-develops. Besides, it’s not as if we had other humans to compare her with. She could’ve just w-worn thick clothes and stayed out of sight.”

“Huh.” Undyne stared at the floor. “Now that you mention it, she did spend a few months cooped up in the house before she left. But—”

           “Where did you hear this, Sans?” None of them had ever heard Toriel sound like that, her gentle voice lowered to an almost bestial snarl. “Who told you?”

           Sans grimaced. “You guys cleared everyone out of the Ruins, but you didn’t get all the spiders. They saw what happened, an’ they heard her tell you who the dad was.”

Toriel’s mouth fell open. “Spiders?”

“Yep. Some of ‘em made it over to Hotland while Kris was here, and they told Muffet, an’ she wound up sellin’ the story to Grillby. I don’t think he ever told anyone else. He just likes knowin’ stuff.” The skeleton scratched the back of his skull. “When I asked him ‘bout Chara the other day, he told me everything. I just never got a friggin’ chance to talk to Frisk about it.”

Another long pause. Was it his imagination, or was the air getting hotter? The priestess was only a few feet away, and though he didn’t have the courage to look at her again, that side of his body was tingling very unpleasantly.

           Toriel’s face had hardened, her arms folded at the waist. “Be that as it may, it proves absolutely no connection between her and Chara.”

God damn it. “No, they didn’t know for a fact that Frisk was her kid. But her age matched up, and a bunch of the spiders who rode with her were right next to her SOUL for a few hours. They said she had a buttload of magic, and it smelled like the Underground—way more than any human’s should.”

“It would explain how she’s so powerful,” mused Alphys. “With the capability to use magic from her f-father’s side, and being c-conceived and gestated here, she probably started accruing it before she was even born. She’s already proven that she can convert a monster’s power for herself, so…”

“Holy shit,” whispered Undyne. “So Chara really did have a kid?”

“Yes, she did,” the former Queen said tightly. “We just thought she was ill and shutting herself away for a while. She didn’t tell us how Stephin had betrayed our hospitality until she was nearly in labor, and she begged us not to tell any of the other monsters.” Toriel was gripping her own sleeves hard enough to puncture the fabric. “We gave her two months to recover, and then Asgore sent them both to Stephin. The baby wasn’t very strong, but Asgore was afraid that if we kept her here, Stephin would think we were holding his child hostage.”

No one answered, and Toriel swallowed hard. “A few weeks later, Chara returned to us in agony. Stephin had just become engaged to another woman, and he refused to break it off. The baby had become sick after leaving the Underground, and when Chara started preparing for the journey back here, she…the child didn’t make it home.” The former Queen wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. “I am sorry, Frisk, but there is no way you could be—”

           “Yes, there is,” Frisk said, sounding oddly detached. “Chara lied to you. I didn’t die—she left me with a wet nurse and paid her to be my foster mother.”

Sans wanted to dive out of the way as Toriel took a step toward the human, Undyne and Alphys also shrinking back. “You mean to tell me,” the goat monster said, deathly quiet, “that my daughter knowingly abandoned her child and deceived her family?”

“Yes. She did.” Frisk was standing firm, but the monsters could see the haze coming off her like a golden mist; Sans traded looks with Undyne, who pulled Alphys closer. “If you really think it’s impossible for me to be Chara’s daughter, why did you ask my exact age?” the human demanded. “Why did you want to know how old I was when I first visited, and why did Asgore ask Sans the very same thing? You knew Chara had had a baby girl ten years before the delegation arrived, and then you found out Kris was a girl. Were you wondering if I was actually—”

           “No!” They flinched at Toriel’s sheer vehemence. She gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper. “It was all Asgore’s fault. When Chara returned to us, he had the temerity to accuse her of lying about her child’s death. He told her she was not welcome unless she brought the baby back with her! Of course we didn’t see her again for ten years!” Smoke drifted from between her fingers as she wiped her eyes again. “I still don’t know how he could have done something so cruel, or how he told you about it, but my only regret is that I ever considered the possibility for a single second! I know you are both wrong!”

           Frisk’s eyes narrowed, and Sans jumped as a golden spark flew in his direction. He quashed the reflex to teleport to safety and stood up, only for Frisk to look around him, as though he wasn’t there. “I haven’t spoken to Asgore since I was a child. He has nothing to do with this conversation,” she snapped. “Do you know who first told me Chara was my mother?”

           Toriel tried to give her a tolerant smile. “No, child. Who first told you?”

           “Asriel.” Before the goat monster could react, Frisk pressed on, “He put the pieces together after he saw me make a barrier by accident. He knew that that ability ran in the royal family, and the King had fathered Chara’s child, so he asked her if it could be me. Chara got him to bring me to her, and he told me who I really was.” The envelope trembled in her hands. “He told me I’d come home.”

Toriel’s eyes widened again. She started to speak, but Frisk raised her voice: “Chara said my nurse had told her I’d died, and she apologized to me for how she acted whenever she visited the orphanage or the castle kitchens.” The human’s face had the hard, bitter expression Sans recognized from the time she’d caught him trying to escape. “She was so sweet to all the other children, and then she looked at me like I was some kind of diseased rat! She said it was because I reminded her of her little girl and it made her sad, and she didn’t know it was actually me!”

           “There!” Toriel exclaimed. “You see? The nurse wanted to hide the King’s child for her own gain, and—”

           “Chara knew who I was all along!” bellowed Frisk, and it was the goat monster’s turn to step back. “She knew damn well that I was alive! Why else would she pay my foster mother a hundred dinar every month for ten years? How did she know to check in on me every so often to see if I still existed? Why’d she leave me to be beaten and starved half to death while she kept the thousands my father gave her to support us both and did whatever she liked?!”

           “How dare you say that? My child would never have—”

“She would, and she did! I’m sorry, Toriel, but she lied to everyone, especially you! Chara abandoned me until I was useful for something besides money, and she tore your family apart to punish Asgore for being right about her!”

           “ENOUGH!” roared Toriel. She made a violent gesture, flame sizzling through the air. “I will not hear any more of this! Do you understand, High Priestess?! Whatever you may think happened, I know my daughter, and I know what she was and was not capable of! If you’re going to insist on slandering her any further, perhaps it would be better for you to l—”

           The echoes died. The fury in Toriel’s gaze was gone, a hand coming back to her mouth.

           “Better for me to what, Lady Toriel?” Frisk asked, so gently that Sans cringed. “Should—” Her throat worked. “Should I leave the Underground? Are you going to send me away again?”

           Toriel didn’t have the chance to reply. A barrier screamed to life overhead, and constricted until it formed a dome around them only about twenty feet across and fifteen feet high. “All right. I understand,” said Frisk.

Undyne reacted first, pushing Alphys to the floor and stuffing her under the table. “Frisk!” snapped the fish monster. “Calm down, okay? She didn’t mean it!”

“She didn’t mean to say I was lying?” Frisk inquired, her voice suddenly rising to a shriek: “She didn’t mean to tell me to get out?”

“Frisk!” Sans tried to grab her shoulder, only for a flare of gold to warn him away. “C’mon, sweetheart! Ya gotta stop it! We can talk about this!”

“We just did, Sans!” He had seen her in pain before, but it was nothing compared to the wild-eyed stare she turned on him now. “We talked about it because you couldn’t wait to show everyone who I was! Thank you so much for helping me have this difficult conversation! We’ve finally answered the question of whether someone else I love is going to call me a liar!”

Sans’ SOUL already hurt so much that it took a moment to remember what she—oh, God. She meant when she’d told him she was Kris, and he’d scoffed at her until she stripped down to prove it. Now she’d been forced to reveal her identity to Toriel in the least natural way possible, and she didn’t believe her, either. “Frisk—”

She was smiling, but in a very unhinged way. “No, I should really be thanking you. Life is so much simpler now! I don’t have to waste any more time and energy wondering if I should feel worthless, because the closest person to a real mother I’ve ever had just told me so!”

Sans couldn’t answer: he had to fling himself backward before a cascade of sparks hit him in the face. Frisk drifted away a few steps and sank to her knees, hands still clenched on the envelope in her lap. “It’s fine,” she mumbled at the floor. “Food, presents, bubbles—I already gave you everything I have. If you don’t want me anymore, then…”

Toriel was rooted to the spot, chest heaving. The barrier sank lower, nearly grazing her horns, and Undyne rushed to sling her under the table as more sparks flew. “Sans!” the Captain shouted over the crackle and hiss of human magic.

The skeleton glared down at Toriel, and shook his head as she tried to speak. Frisk was too far gone—anything else the goat monster said would just aggravate her further, assuming she could even hear it.

Meanwhile, the dome was slowly closing in on them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If he tried to touch Frisk now, she’d just shove more magic at him; not only would that hurt like hell, it’d trap them all between two layers of barrier. He yelled her name again, but she didn’t move.

Shit! Why hadn’t Alphys warned him sooner? Why hadn’t Undyne kept her goddamn mouth shut about the letter? And if Toriel couldn’t accept right away that everything she knew was wrong and Chara was even worse than Sans had imagined, couldn’t she have found a way to deny it without completely destroying Frisk?!

Why hadn’t he—

No, all that mattered right now was getting through to her. The light surrounded them in blinding golden pulses, the barrier crackling like…

Humming. The barrier was making a hell of a lot of noise, and it…didn’t sound like her humming at all. Why was he thinking of that now?

…Because the last time his magic had been out of control, in his prison cell, she’d calmed him down by humming. But he hadn’t even heard her at first; he’d only snapped out of it when she touched his blaster – the physical embodiment of his magic – with her bare hand. He never did explain to her what a no-no that was…

Sans looked at his hand. He looked at his priestess, curled in on herself, lost in misery. The golden dome was so close to the crown of his skull that he could feel his whole body screaming at him to run.

The giant skeleton looked Toriel in the eye. Then he squeezed his sockets shut, lifted his arm, and placed his hand flat on the barrier.

 ~

             Something…happened.

           One second, the pressure in Frisk’s head was intolerable, grief and despair rising to a fever pitch, spurred by the determination to keep the monsters here until they changed their minds, till they were sorry. Then—

           The sensation could only be likened to someone running their finger down the inside of her chest, the most strange and intimate thing she’d ever felt. It should have been horrible, or at least uncomfortable, but…

           But it didn’t feel invasive. It felt like someone giving her heart a gentle nudge, saying in a familiar, gravelly baritone, “’s all right, Frisk. It’s gonna be okay. I promise. But you gotta stop now, ‘kay?”

The feeling slipped away. She stirred, trying to get it back; Frisk opened her eyes and—

           Sans. Her chest gave a happy little shiver as she saw him looking down at her. He was standing nearby, giving her a strained smile and…and touching—the barrier—

           Fear jolted her fully awake. Frisk whistled as hard as she could, and the searing golden light vanished. Her whole body ached, but it was nothing compared with what she glimpsed as Sans lowered his arm. “Oh, God! Sans—”

           “Hey, kitten,” mumbled the boss monster. He had to stifle a grunt, shuffling hastily to turn his back to her. “Tori, could I…get a hand with this? Heh…ow…”

           Frisk tried to get up from where she was kneeling, or at least stop shaking. Green light shone around Sans’ huge form, but she barely noticed; all she could see in her mind’s eye were his blackened metacarpals, the smaller bones not just burned, but partially melted by her magic.

           Her legs refused to work. Frisk dropped the envelope and shuffled herself around in a half circle to see if anyone else was hurt, and whether they had seen her nearly kill her poor skeleton. No one was here…

           “Aww, darn. You were so close.”

           …except for a voice that felt like spiders crawling into her brain. The demon-child sat on the edge of a nearby table, shaking its head at her and sighing. Then it gave her an encouraging grin. “Oh, well. That was still fun—just like old times. Don’t worry, you’ll get ‘em someday!”

           Someone moved behind her. Frisk blinked hard, then shuddered, and pushed herself up onto her feet, standing with her back to the demon.

Undyne was climbing out from under their table and offering a webbed hand to Alphys. “Undyne?” The human moved gingerly toward them. “Are you two all right?”

           The Captain’s eye widened, and her arm shot out, protecting Alphys from…from what? Frisk glanced around them, looking for—

           Her. Undyne was protecting Alphys from her.

And why not? Hadn’t she done exactly what the monsters feared most—trapped them with a barrier, maimed someone, and nearly killed them? Even Undyne was afraid of her now!

           Frisk shouldn’t have gotten up: she felt her body go heavy, legs giving way. She was only vaguely aware that she was going to fall, and that Undyne was hesitating, moving too late to catch her.

A soft, tingling sensation stopped her just short of the marble floor, lifting her higher into the air. To her dismay, she was enveloped in red magic, and Sans was reaching for her; Frisk tried to say, “No, don’t—”

           His arms closed around her, strong and safe, his injured hand settling her against his shoulder. The other drew his coat over her legs; a shaky phalange ran through her hair, and a shakier voice rumbled, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”

           Frisk wound her arms around his neck as tight as they’d go, not caring how his vertebrae dug into her flesh. She was too numb to cry, and she didn’t have the strength to ask what he was doing, or why he was anywhere near her. All she could do was hang on.

           Undyne cleared her throat. “She…is she okay now?”

           “She’ll be fine,” snapped the giant skeleton, and immediately stroked Frisk’s hair again as she trembled. “Shh, s’alright,” he murmured.

“Sans,” Toriel said brokenly. “I—”

The world tipped and swerved as Sans shifted his weight, turning them away. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s go home.”

           “To your house?” Undyne was still shaken, but Frisk heard a warning note in her voice. “Look, I know you’re really emotional right now, but she’s not in any condition to—”

           “To sleep!” he snarled. “I’m takin’ ‘er home, and we’re gonna sleep! Good fuckin’ night!”

           A tiny part of Frisk wanted to tell him to be nice, but she couldn’t even stay conscious. The last thing she heard was Toriel’s cry of “Sans, wait!” before his magic rushed them through space. Then—

 ~

             On her third day at the convent, they finally made her leave her room.

           Frisk kept her eyes on the ground, letting the matron steer her down a hall and out into a courtyard full of chattering girls. The noise dropped a little as they saw her, but when Frisk stayed by the wall, there was a collective shrug, and the chatter resumed.

           The wind was howling. Frisk wiped her nose on the sleeve of her new uniform, wondering dully if it was going to snow out here. The drifts in front of Sans and Papyrus’ house never seemed to go down, no matter how often they tossed her into them.

           Did they miss her yet? Did they even know she was gone? Or had the accident—

           “Excuse me?”

           Frisk looked up. Through her tears, she saw a group of older girls standing in front of her, with a grownup right behind—the Sister must have ordered them to come be nice to the new girl. Sure enough, the speaker was holding out a handkerchief, looking kind and concerned. “Thank you,” Frisk whispered, taking it and wiping her eyes.

           “It’s all right. I know I was very sad when I first got here,” the girl said, a little too loud. She smiled, and Frisk tried not to shudder—she’d gotten so used to monsters that the girl’s pretty blue eyes, golden hair, and rosy skin looked fake, like a doll.

The grownup nodded approval and moved away to yell at another group for telling dirty jokes. Immediately, the blonde girl’s smile sharpened, and she wrinkled her nose. “Keep it,” she said curtly.

That was bad, but at least Frisk had expected it. What really hurt was when the group moved off and the girl said to her friends, “Oh my God, her hair! And did you see her eyes? She looks like a rabbit!”

The snickering felt like a scab being ripped off Frisk’s heart. “Geez, Mathilda,” another girl said quietly.

“Well, it’s true! They’re not supposed to be red! Is she cursed or something?” Laughter. “I’m serious! We all need to say extra prayers tonight!”

…

Would it have changed anything if Frisk had remembered that conversation? Soon after, the King visited and told her everything – how he had thought Chara was at least providing her with basic necessities, and he would be sure she never lacked for anything again – and when she worsened, they decided to remove her memories; the Mother Superior had repeated the most relevant facts about her father and her future education, and Frisk had accepted her new life.

As far as Frisk knew, the first time she met her best friend was soon afterward, when Mathilda switched places with someone to sit next to her at lunch. “Hello. You must be Frisk,” she said, smiling. “Do you, um…”

Frisk watched her in puzzlement. Why was Mathilda Owen bothering to speak to her?

Mathilda fidgeted. “Never mind. I just wanted to say hello.” Why did she look so guilty? Her friends were watching, whispering anxiously to each other, as though something important was at stake. “Would you like to come and sit with us? I hate to see you all by yourself.”

As soon as she figured out that it wasn’t a cruel prank, and she really was making friends with the most beautiful and kind-hearted girl in the entire school, Frisk was too happy to question things further. It took her a long time to realize that everyone knew why the King had been here, and that everyone wanted his daughter to like them, especially Mathilda.

Even then, Frisk had decided not to care. As long as she could earn their friendship by being kind and helpful, did it really matter how it’d started? It wasn’t as if she was only worth something because of her father.

…It wasn’t.

 ~

             …Finally.

She shook the ruby droplets from the kitchen knife, wondering idly why he was the only monster who ever bled, then kicked the dust aside. It was time to move on.

 ~          

                       Frisk awoke in a rush of adrenaline and half-remembered nightmares. It was dark; she thought for a moment that she’d been buried alive, then realized that something huge and leathery was draped over her entire body. No golden twilight through the windows, no blood, no dust…

Ugh. Her mouth tasted like a warm sock, and her head throbbed the way it always did when she’d used too much magic. With great care, the human slithered out of her warm prison for a look around.

She was in Sans’ room, lying on his outgrown mattress, his overcoat loosely wrapped around her. The lamp was on, but he’d draped an old shirt over it to diffuse the light into a soft glow, giving the cold, messy space a warmer aspect; in fact, the golden haze reminded her of—

           A barrier.

Chills swept through her, clearing her head of other thoughts like a blast of frigid air. It wasn’t just a nightmare: she had used a barrier against monsters inside the Underground. There was no coming back from that, no excusing or explaining it away.

Even if Toriel hadn’t really meant it at the time, her order to leave would probably become reality. Her friends might not entirely blame her for lashing out, but there was still no way they could trust her anymore—after she had hurt Sans like that, she’d be angry if he did trust her!

           Frisk slowly eased herself back down inside the coat, as if she could hide from what she’d done. In her bitter, selfish regret, she didn’t even think of what this meant for her peace efforts; all she knew was that the Underground was the only place she’d ever really belonged – her birthplace – and she had lost any right to be here. Back to the humans, then, and her suffocating routine of work, exhaustion, and loneliness, secretly hoping that maybe, if she could be useful enough, someone would love her for more than her money or her pedigree and stay. If she could just be good enough—

           Well, obviously, she couldn’t.

           Frisk wasn’t going to cry again. She was tired of crying about things in general, and in this case, there was no possible way to make herself feel better. Why bother making her headache worse and her sleeves all soggy again? She just burrowed deeper into the huge leather coat, willing her mind to subside into comfortable nothingness; at least she was good at that.

It usually helped to have something small to focus on, so Frisk unhooked her itchy black choker and scratched her neck, flushing at the memory of flirting with Sans in front of everyone. Then came her boots, her stockings, and her earrings…

…which weren’t there. The priestess frowned, fingering her earlobes. She didn’t remember taking them out. Had they come off while she was asleep?

Wait a moment. Sans had put her here, hadn’t he? Her satchel was close by; Frisk stuck her arm out until she could pull it over and peek inside. Sure enough, not only had the boss monster removed her earrings for her, he’d left them atop her folded clothes, where they were both safe and easily found.

For some reason, that one little thing, that bit of care and attention, was the last straw. She took a deep breath, only for it to catch as a huge sob tore loose, partly muffled by his coat. Then another, and—

Sans was suddenly standing by the mattress. “Frisk!” He sat down hard. “Frisk, it’s okay, don’t—”

The human forgot that he was supposed to be scared of her. Moving on pure instinct, she flung the coat aside and launched herself up at him, letting his shirt absorb the first wave of tears. “Aww,” he murmured, folding his arms over her back and cradling her head in one massive palm. “C’mon, sweetheart, ya don’t hafta cry. Everythin’s fine now.”

Frisk pressed her face into his clavicle, furiously shaking her head. It was important to explain to him that nothing was fine and it was absolutely correct for her to be crying, but she was crying too hard to get the words out.

Sans gave a large, soft sigh, carrying her outward and back in. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice rumbling throughout her body. She shook her head again, and he ran the side of his finger down her back. “Yuh-huh, it is. Calm down.”

She didn’t want to calm down, but as he kept petting her, Frisk’s sobs slowed down a little. The boss monster made a sound deep in his chest, and she answered him with one that made him squeeze her tighter.

There was that magnetic feeling again, as though she was completely stuck to him. This time, though, she wasn’t frightened. And this time, she felt something else: another sensation was stealing over her, so slowly that she thought it might just be her imagination. It was similar to when he’d accidentally given her his magic, but this didn’t seem accidental, and it wasn’t exactly magic…

She’d felt it when he touched the barrier, and here it was again, washing over her in gentle waves: guilt and anger at himself for kicking off the whole incident, anxiety for her, and…well. He didn’t think she was worthless, or dangerous, or that she needed to do a single thing to deserve forgiveness. His hand didn’t even hurt anymore. …Much.

Even if it did, he still loved her.

Frisk shook her head again, but her sobs grew slower and weaker, gradually coming to a stop. The human leaned away long enough to sniff back a giant wad of snot, then sought a dry patch of his shirt to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he was doing this, but she wasn’t going to question it right now. “Hand?” she croaked.

Sans was quiet. He grunted, then held his palm up. “It ain’t that bad. Looks kinda like a frowny face. See?”

The priestess gulped, raising her own fingers to trace the pattern of deep swirls and grooves her magic had left in the living bones. “Can…” Frisk had to swallow a few more times before she could whisper, “Can you still move them?”

He paused. She felt a closing-off sort of twinge in her chest, as though he’d decided to stop sharing his feelings so he could fib: “Yeah, pretty much.” His metacarpals waggled back and forth, the smallest of them longer than her entire hand. She poked the base of his thumb and forefinger, where a good two or three inches of bone were fused together. “That doesn’t count,” he said stubbornly.

Frisk shuddered, turning to rest her cheek near the top of his sternum. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and winced as her head throbbed. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about seven o’clock,” he replied, petting her hair again. “I got up maybe half an hour ago an’ healed you, just in case.” Tap, tap. “How’s yer hangover?”

“…Not that bad, actually.” Frisk yawned. She’d missed being with him so much that it felt like a waste to just sleep, but it was hard to argue with the results. After all she’d had to drink last night, and then…the incident, she was amazed that she only had a headache and an icky mouth. “Thank you for that. It feels like I got much more than five or six hours.”

Sans chuckled, tapping her head again. “That’s ‘cause it’s seven in the evening, kitten. I think we slept about eighteen hours.”

Frisk’s eyes shot open. “Are you serious?” She leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Is that even possible? I—”

The words faded as their eyes met. Frisk figured she must look pretty awful, but he wasn’t much better. “Did I miss a spot?” he asked gruffly.

The human nodded, reaching up to brush at the dried red on the corners of his sockets. Sans leaned into her touch as she rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to be a big boy now,” she scolded the giant skeleton. “Do I need to—”

Memory hit her again like a fist. Sans jumped as Frisk suddenly yanked her hand away, trying to push herself off him. “Hey!” he protested. “What’re you—wouldja hold on a damn minute?!” More by reflex than design, his hand tightened around her back, keeping her in place. “It was an accident, goddammit! You’re not gonna do it again!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Frisk thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. “You don’t understand!” Thump. “It wasn’t an accident! I was so angry, I wanted to keep everyone there, and I didn’t want to control it! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Sans started. “That little fucker,” the skeleton whispered, as if he’d realized something very profound. “I know what it was, Frisk. That goddamn thing was right there! I saw it a minute before the whole name thing started! I dunno if it made me drop the letter so you’d freak out, or if it was plannin’ something else, but it wanted you to go nuts! That’s why—”

“No! It wasn’t!” Thump. Thump. “Are you even listening?! It was me! I did it on purpose!” Thump. “I was already…” Frisk shuddered, shaking her head again as more emotions boiled to the surface. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? We’re halfway through our visit, and I haven’t even talked to anyone about ending slavery! I’ve just been thinking of how to tell Asgore and Toriel about Chara, whether they’d believe me and if I’ve been selfish to keep back something that could help make peace—I had no idea their estrangement was because Asgore knew Chara was lying about me! And I missed you so much—” His arms tightened, and Frisk caught herself on another sob. “I don’t want to go, Sans!”

“No one’s makin’ you go anywhere!” He gave her a very light shake. “We all know you, Frisk! Ya think anyone’s sittin’ there thinkin’, ‘Welp, that was inevitable, let’s go ahead ‘n toss ‘er out now’? Or d’ya think we feel like shit ‘cause we kept pokin’ you till you couldn’t take it anymore?”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “It doesn’t matter how badly I was provoked! I wouldn’t let you get away with attacking me just because you were angry!”

“Y’already did. Remember?” He stroked her back with one knuckle. “You coulda done anythin’ you wanted once I quit tryin’ ta murder you, and ya put me to bed ‘n fed me.”

…Damn it. “That’s not the same thing! I—”

“Frisk.” His phalange brushed her cheek. “Yer the one who’s not listenin’. No one is makin’ you leave. We’re gonna talk about it with everybody, there’s gonna be a big damn fight over who’s the most sorry, an’ we’re gonna figure out how to get you in to see Asgore. You’re gonna say whatever you need to about Chara and lay out yer big plan to make everything all better. If he doesn’t wanna do it, we’ll figure somethin’ else out before we leave.” His hand rested on her back like a shield. “And I’m gonna quit actin’ like all I hafta do is stay outta yer way an’ let you do everything. From now on, I want you ta tell me if somethin’s botherin’ you before ya go crazy.” Squeeze. “Any questions?”

Frisk thought about it as she sniffled. “Yes. Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when I gave you the stupid chessboard?”

He snorted. “Yer startin’ ta sound like me!” Pause. Shrug. “Short answer? It was pretty much the best thing I ever got, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Thank you,’ Sans?” Thump. “I was really looking forward to you opening your gift, and you couldn’t wait to get away from it!”

“I know, I know!” His shoulders hunched again. “’m sorry! I…wanted ta jump you, but that wasn’t exactly an option. I didn’t know what else ta do!”

How could he make her want to hug and slap him so badly? “Well, putting that aside, do you plan to spend the rest of your life running off when you get embarrassed?”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself and scowled. “I dunno. Just…sorry I was shitty about the chess stuff. It was amazing, and thank you a lot for it. Okay?”

He was so exasperatingly cute that Frisk had to bite her lip. “All right, then. You’re welcome. I…”

Rrrrgggrgrgl.

They both froze as her stomach rumbled. Frisk made a sheepish sound, and Sans chuckled. “Right. I was in the middle of makin’ a couple sandwiches when I came up.”

Frisk nodded. “Where’s Papyrus?” She wiped her eyes again. “Please don’t say he’s planning to make dinner.”

“Nope! I left a note on the door tellin’ him and Undyne ta stay at the inn tonight. I said we’d meet ‘em at the Ruins tomorrow morning.”

They were going to be alone tonight? The priestess felt light-headed, her cheeks burning. Sans must have been thinking the same thing, because she could’ve sworn his bones were getting warmer. “Time ta eat,” he mumbled, and a blink later, they were in the living room.

Still in his arms, Frisk turned her head to survey the kitchen table. He’d set out a loaf of bread, some cheese, tomatoes, and a few other things, obviously dropped when he’d heard her crying. Frisk thought about it, then snuggled back into Sans. There was food, and she was starving, but he was right here, too; she didn’t know which she wanted more at the moment.

Another rumble from her stomach settled the question. “Off ya go,” he said reluctantly, and Frisk sighed, moving her hand down to push free of their stuck-togetherness.

Sans suddenly made a strangled sound. Frisk didn’t understand it, or why his hand had flexed to avoid squashing her, until she looked down: she’d accidentally reached in between his ribs, pushing his shirt through and wrapping her fingers most of the way around his middle rib.

She’d never put her hands inside his ribcage, assuming it was basically a private part, and it seemed she was right. Just like that, his breathing had grown ragged, his bones trembling as her hand tightened. There was no misinterpreting his physical reaction; she could imagine how his instincts to comfort and protect her were deepening into much more raw emotion…

…because it was completely mutual. The young woman tugged lightly on his rib, and felt him shudder again. “Frisk,” he muttered. “Knock it off.”

Frisk moved just enough to brush her cheek against his jawbone. “What?” One finger slid along the bone toward his sternum. “This?”

Sans’ entire frame jerked. “Yes, that!” He caught her wrist in the curl of his index finger. “If I was a human, it’d be like stickin’ yer hand down my pants!”

“You don’t want me to?” she asked, very matter-of-fact.

Sans’ arm across her back was almost hurting her. Not tight enough, then. “Frisk,” he said warningly.

“I’m serious.” She licked her lips, feeling heat spread through her, chasing away the sorrow and anger. “My period’s over, the house is empty, and your magic doesn’t have any negativity at all right now.” Her free hand drifted toward his sternum. “We both need this, Sans. Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” To her bewilderment, he seized her with his magic and set her on the couch with a butt-tingling thump. “Just… I want you so bad, I’m about to lose my damn mind!” His entire skull was bright red. “But you’re still messed up from somethin’ that only happened ‘cause I was bein’ a dumbass, an’ I’m not gonna do it when you’re not thinkin’ straight! That would be fuckin’ wrong! Got it?” Despite himself, he stepped closer to touch her cheek. “’Sides, there’s somethin’ we’ve really gotta talk about first. The letter from yer dad is…”

He trailed off as her face twitched. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“So, you…” Frisk knew this was not the time, but she couldn’t keep the words from bubbling up: “You’d be…fucking wrong?” Her body was trembling again, this time with the urge to giggle. “You already went the extra mile and figured out how to be my size. I’m pretty sure that means you can do it correctly now!”

“Frisk,” he said, scandalized, and covered his face as she snrrrked. “God damn it, woman, I’m tryin’ ta be serious here!”

She didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Sans took one look at her face and gave his scariest growl. “No.”

“But—”

“Frisk.”

“But are you—”

“Friiiiisk—”

A long pause. Frisk sighed in resignation, shrugging one shoulder.

Sans nodded. “Okay. Now, for real, Frisk, I’m—”

“—fucking serious?”

The dam broke: one moment, they were staring each other down, and then they burst into hysterical, snorting laughter. Frisk was sobbing again, but for the right reason, dammit; Sans let his forehead thunk on the floor, trying desperately to stop long enough to say something, only to end up laughing harder.

Eventually, out of sheer weakness, they had to slow down, and reached a point where they could almost breathe normally. “Shit,” rasped Sans, and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Frisk’s breath caught, her heart coming to a standstill. She sat up, watching the skeleton realize what he’d said. His sockets widened, but he looked straight at her, almost defiantly. “What?” There went the red again. He looked away…and back. “’s true,” he said, very quietly.

There was no telling what she might have done if Sans hadn’t pushed to his feet and waved his hand at the table. The bread knife started sawing away, cutting the loaf into sandwich slices and assembling the ingredients. “We need ta eat somethin’, an’ then I should go track yer letter down,” he mumbled, trying to rub the color off his skull. “I dunno if someone picked it up, or if it got left up there, or what. You can get some time to yerself—take a bath or somethin’.”

A bath sounded good, decided the one functional corner of her mind. She accepted the glass of water and mostly-tomato sandwich he wafted over to her a moment later, ignoring his muttered apologies for its crappiness. Nor did she pay much heed when he said something else, tapped a knuckle on her shoulder, and winked out of sight.

Alone for the first time in several days, Frisk finished her sandwich. She put the dishes in the sink, went upstairs, and ran a very hot bath, staring at the steam rising from the water. Then she went to Sans’ room, removed all her clothes, and lay down to wrap herself in his overcoat again. She hadn’t touched herself since before they left the castle, and she was even more worked up now than she’d been the night she made herself clear to Sans; being in his room, with the feeling of his bones and everything he’d said to her fresh in her mind, anticipating time to themselves at last—that was more than her body could handle. So…

It took so little time that the water was still hot when Frisk stumbled back into the bathroom. She left the door open a crack before she got in the tub, because…the steam…had to escape. Yes. The door needed to be open. For the steam.

Frisk knew exactly when Sans returned; to her disappointment, she heard an embarrassed mutter in the hall, and the door clicked shut. Just because she could, Frisk splashed louder, whistling his favorite song and letting the notes linger than she probably had to. She let the water out, also loudly, and kept humming as she dried herself and got dressed.

Sans was obviously on his guard when she came downstairs, which was wise: she was wearing his old clothes again, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up blue jacket, though she hadn’t had the nerve to put on any socks. He gave her one glance, reddened again, and turned his head, shoving the golden envelope at her. “Here.”

Frisk swallowed. “Thank you.” She studied the envelope for a moment, then tossed it on the couch and advanced on him. “I’m feeling much better now, so—”

“Nope!” Sans skipped away fast enough to make her yelp a little. He held up his good hand, as if to ward her off. “Dammit, Frisk, I mean it when I say I’m not gonna fuck you yet! Sit down and listen!”

Startled, the human sank onto the couch. Sans scratched the back of his head, collecting his thoughts. “Okay. So. Gaster gave me that thing, an’ he told me what’s in it.” He shut his eyes. “First thing: your King’s been talkin’ about you all over the place. Everyone—all the humans know Chara was yer mom.”

Frisk’s stomach lurched. “I see,” she murmured. Sans watched anxiously as she blew out a long breath. “Well, at least if I start throwing barriers at humans, it won’t frighten them.”

Sans chuckled. “Nope. They’d think it was neat,” he agreed.

The priestess thought it over, and decided that this particular problem could go back on the shelf for now. “Did someone see the letter and start spreading the word?”

“Yep. Gaster says yer dad’s pissed off, and that’s his way of bein’ passive-aggressive.” He indicated the envelope. “He fixed up a bunch of legal stuff with your name all over it.”

“‘Legal stuff’?” Frisk scowled. “Am I being arrested for theft?” She almost hoped so; that was a fight she’d enjoy winning. “If I am, I swear I will burn down the entire—”

“Nope. Just the opposite.” The skeleton took a deep, deep breath. “He…”

Watching his face, it suddenly clicked. “He wants to adopt me?” she asked crisply.

Blink. “…Uh.” Blink. “…yes?” Emphatic blink. “How the hell did you know?”

Her teeth clenched, all her muscles knotting at once, and then she let it go with a sigh. “He hinted at it a few times back when I was teaching Gaius magic. It’s been so long, I forgot all about it.” Mostly. “The poor boy isn’t going to live long enough to have his own heirs, and my older siblings are almost all gone, so… I was hoping His Majesty would name one of his more distant relatives, or pick another of his children.”

“Well, you’re the best he’s got.” Frisk flushed as Sans sat down against the opposite wall. “Is that a normal thing fer humans? You’re gettin’ old and yer official kid is kinda puny, so you grab a backup?”

Frisk crossed her legs, absently enjoying his reaction. “It’s uncommon, but it’s happened before in order to keep a particular bloodline going.” She picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal. “I’ll bet you a million dinar my father says he’s invited Luke and Mathilda back to the castle with their family. He went to school with Luke’s father, so he probably wants to get reacquainted before they announce our engagement.”

The boss monster watched in silence as she pulled out a sheaf of expensive papers, setting aside the copies of her ducal investiture and adoption decree. Frisk unfolded the handwritten letter, read it over carefully, and nodded. “You owe me a million dinar.”

He didn’t laugh. “See? If you end up havin’ my kid, it’s probably not gonna improve yer chances of bein’ Queen someday and gettin’ to set everything right for everyone.” Sans shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Not the kinda thing I can ask you to give up just so I can get laid.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest and rekindled in her middle, where she was still sensitive from her personal time upstairs. “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t want to be Queen,” she said calmly. “I want to become the humans’ ambassador to the monster race and set up an embassy somewhere close by—maybe at the farm on the river.” She set the papers aside and got to her feet, her entire body humming. “And if I do have a child, I’m going to love it and raise it, no matter how hard things get…even if it’s only half human.”

Sans’ eyes went blank. “…Frisk?”

The High Priestess’ heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if he could hear it as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, and held her hand out. “Will you stay with me, Sans?”

His hand came up to engulf hers and tug her against him, even as he shook his head. “Ya can’t decide somethin’ like that so quick,” Sans protested. Frisk leaned in just hard enough for him to feel her breasts through the thick blue jacket, and he shuddered. “I-I mean, believe me, I understand bein’ horny, but—”

Frisk reached up to rap on his cheekbone with her knuckles. “Excuse me, sir, but my mind has been made up since I opened the box.” She turned to press her lips to his phalanges. “Take me to your room, please.”

The light in his sockets dilated nearly all the way. Massive hands closed around her, and the world suddenly rushed by, depositing them by the door in his room. His magic pulled the mattress out to the center of the floor, straightening his overcoat in lieu of sheets or a blanket; the skeleton released her and glanced around for a moment, visibly regretting that they weren’t in a more romantic or at least clean environment. “Close yer eyes,” he mumbled.

Frisk complied, feeling and hearing him compress his huge frame down to human size. She opened her eyes just in time for Sans to pull her down to the mattress, setting her in his lap with her calves draped over his femurs. As before, he didn’t seem to care how his clothes hung off him; he simply yanked his sleeves back, then slipped his arm around her waist, the other running through her hair as he mouthed her neck.

That was a good start; the priestess wound her arms around him as Sans pulled her even closer. She made a delicate little sound as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his movements slow and gentle until she deliberately nipped him.

He nearly snarled at her, one hand gripping the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair. Frisk almost purred at the twinges in her scalp, letting him hold her in place as the kiss grew rougher and his fangs grazed her lip. She couldn’t believe how easily this was coming to her, how gratifying it was—all it took was a few little sighs, soft touches, and complete sexual abandon. Who knew?

It was more than a physical urge, though. She couldn’t even guess which of them needed this more, to be held and explored, valued, accepted—

The hand on her back had crept under her jacket, finding the hem of her shirt and then encountering bare skin. Frisk shivered pleasurably at the feel of bones gliding up her side, and at the disbelieving sound he made. “Holy shit,” breathed Sans. “You’re so soft.” His nasal ridge dropped back to the crook of her neck; he inhaled so deeply that she felt a rush of cold on her damp skin. “You smell amazing—” His tongue ran across her throat, his teeth sinking just hard enough to make her whimper and reach up to caress his skull. “I don’t…are ya really sure about this?”

Sighing inwardly, the priestess nuzzled the side of his vertebrae; he sucked in his breath as her tongue ran over the dry bone. Her legs shifted toward him, hips scooting closer as she guided his hands to her waist. Sans accepted the invitation, hitching up his baggy trousers and carefully grinding his pelvis into her so that she could feel his magic more directly.

It was one thing to have undergone a comprehensive scientific education and read dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and quite another to actually feel male parts…or magical facsimiles. The eternal, universal question sprang to mind: how was anything that size supposed to fit in her? That couldn’t be right. If she didn’t know better, she’d dismiss the whole idea as an elaborate prank, and childbirth as some kind of optical illusion. But…

Frisk ducked her head into his shoulder, face burning as his fingers combed through her hair. Luckily, Sans was oblivious. “’s not fair,” he murmured above her. “Everythin’ about you feels nice, ‘n I’m just a buncha gross bones.”

Frisk gave a disapproving snort—this, she could handle. “Here, give me your hand.” Ignoring her hot cheeks, she took his wrist and slid his hand up under her jacket, unable to suppress a tremor as his phalanges traced the underside of her breast. “If I thought you were ‘gross,’ would I be letting you do this?”

There was no telling what Sans thought: his powers of speech had degenerated into a series of incoherent sounds. To her irritation, he withdrew his hand and grabbed at the bottom of her jacket, desperate to pull it over her head…only to blink in confusion as Frisk snrked at him, leaning back and helpfully tapping the zipper.

As it turned out, the joke was on her. In another split-second, Sans had the jacket unzipped and the sleeves pulled straight down her arms, the whole thing tossed aside; before she knew what had happened, he was crushing her against him, his hands back under her white shirt, palms sweeping along her sides and up across her back—

In the heat of the moment, both of them had forgotten about her scars. Frisk tensed as his hands passed over the rough skin, and he stopped dead. “This okay?” he inquired after a moment, giving her a few experimental pets. “Doesn’t feel too weird, does it?”

The young woman shook her head, resting it on his shoulder and reminding herself that he’d already seen them. There was nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore—the nerve endings are gone.”

Sans ground his teeth. “Are ya sure I can’t go kill that bitch?”

Purely on instinct, Frisk placed her slender fingers between his upper ribs, near his sternum; his eyes widened further as she pulled herself the rest of the way onto his bony, baggy-trousered lap. “Please don’t,” she said against his jaw. “I think we have better things to d—”

In one motion, Sans pulled her shirt up to her collarbone and hitched her forward to lay them both down on the mattress. With her face aflame and her heart galloping harder than ever, Frisk stayed still as he rose on one elbow to look her over, jaws parting to breathe more heavily; but to her surprise, when he reached down, all he did was rest his right palm on her sternum, where they could both feel her heartbeat reverberating through the disfigured bones.

Frisk gradually forget to be embarrassed, or cold, letting him see that she trusted him enough to stay exposed. Sans moved his thumb a little, and without thinking, she rested her hand on his, playing with the gaps between his joints. They were both content to stay that way for a few quiet moments, studying the contrast between her skin and his bones.

Soon, though, he had to lean down again to kiss her, and his hand turned to stroke her breast with the backs of his fingers. Frisk made a soft sound and tried to sit up to demand more; to her surprise, he shook his head and slung his femur across her waist, pinning her to the mattress. “Slow down, kitten,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go nuts an’ hurt you by accident.”

That was cheating. She was already aroused enough; when she reached down to grab his hand, only to have her wrists corraled and pinned over her head with a trace of red magic, she couldn’t help moaning out loud.

Sans’ orange eyes were fully dilated now. He had sat up and partly turned aside, but couldn’t look away from her writhing and urgent noises. “What’d I just say?!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” Frisk squirmed again. “Let me go, and I’ll stop! Please!”

With unnatural speed, Sans released her and kicked off his trousers. His full weight flattened her to the mattress, and something pressed very distinctively into her stomach; Frisk tried to look down between their bodies, but his baggy shirt was blocking her view. Was it red like the rest of his magic, or—

His fingers caught her chin, making her look up at him. “Okay, kitten. You ready?” He let go long enough to hook his phalanges in the waistband of her black-and-white-striped pants, and rested his forehead on hers. “I…” He exhaled, his entire body trembling. “I’m just guessin’ on size. Went with somethin’ like this.” His tongue stuck out for a moment. “If it doesn’t work, then—”

“It’s all right, Sans.” Frisk leaned up to kiss his jaw, wiggling her hips to help him remove her last piece of clothing. “Go ahead.”

Sans nodded, taking in the view with his jaws still parted and his eyes burning, but he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. She let him arrange her arms around him, then run his hand over her waist and hips, rubbing her thighs for an appreciative moment before he nudged her legs open.

Either Sans had read up on this process, or the instincts Undyne had mentioned could adapt to human anatomy, because he didn’t even hesitate. He plucked the folds of his shirt out of the way and reached down, and Frisk jumped as something prodded her entrance. She’d gotten a couple of her fingers in there before, but as Sans moved forward into her, she couldn’t help wincing. The pressure quickly grew into discomfort as her body started giving way; she buried her face in Sans’ shirt, and he paused for a second, then leaned in—

Romance novels had absolutely lied to her. The pressure built into sharp, burning pain as he pushed further into her, and Frisk couldn’t hold back a little sob as he moved out, and back in. He shook his head; she tried to tell him it was all right, only to cry out as he sank the rest of the way inside. “God—‘m sorry, Frisk, just—” His hips moved back again, and he started to sit up.

Frisk latched onto his ribs again, legs squeezing his pelvis in the strangest, strongest determination she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if it hurt: he needed her, she needed him, and she’d be damned if she’d let it end yet! “Don’t stop,” she whispered, keenly aware of the effect her voice had on him. Just to be certain, she ran her finger over the back of his skull. “Please?”

There were no more words after that. The boss monster slammed into her again, drawing another near-sob from her. He snarled deep in his throat, hands trembling as they grasped the overcoat behind her head; with a huge effort, he drew out and pushed in more slowly, then stayed still for a moment. Frisk made the mistake of wriggling her hips to try to adjust to the feeling of fullness – of intrusion, really – and he swiftly jerked out and slammed in again.

That was enough for Frisk. She pulled clumsily at him with her legs, and he either took the hint or couldn’t hold back anymore: he snarled in his throat, movements faster and more erratic the closer he came. Frisk held on, ignoring the pain and focusing on the fierce exultation of watching him lose himself in her; when he started to slow down a little, she growled and bit his clavicle as hard as she could, determined to see him finish.

Sure enough, Sans groaned deep in his throat, ending on a snarl; his hips went once—twice—three times more, and his arms locked around her, his entire body shoving her into the mattress as hard as she’d wanted. Frisk let him ride it out for as long as he wanted, waiting till the tension in his limbs finally relaxed and he slumped into her.

Neither one spoke for several minutes. There was no need for him to pull out: she felt his magic vanish, and tried not to breathe too big a sigh of relief. Well, she couldn’t be disappointed in the lack of multiple orgasms or even much pleasure yet—how could she when Sans was lying in her arms, rubbing his face slowly into her neck as his breathing began to slow?

Frisk stroked his skull and shifted her weight where his leg was digging into her, and immediately regretted it as her entire lower half protested. She was going to have many bruises in the morning. They would just have to work on their technique, she thought, resting her cheek on his cranium.

Sans showed no signs of life besides his breathing for several minutes. She was starting to worry a little when he moved his head enough to say, “M’rm.”

The young woman blinked. “Beg pardon?”

He was silent for a long time. “Never mind. I’ll ask ya later.” Sans rose up on his elbow and shakily leaned in to lick her neck again. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was so much behind it that Frisk didn’t know what to say. Instead, she reached up and pulled his head back down to her breasts, resting his cheekbone over her heart. It made her remember how he’d shared his feelings directly with her before, and what’d happen if he tried that in the middle of sex…

Frisk sighed, closing her eyes. That was another thing to put away for later, to worry about and/or look forward to when she got to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and waited for Sans to say something; then she peeked at him, and saw that she was wasting her time. He was already fast asleep.

[mattmurdocksscars]

Tease

Alright, fuck it. This is my first time writing smut, so please don’t be too critical. Any constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated 💖

Pairing: Poe x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! 

Word Count: 1999

You were feeling a little like provoking a certain Commander. Poe and you had been flirting back and forth for some time, but you could never get the man to make a move. At first, you thought that maybe he was just being his usual friendly self and you were overthinking things. Only, the amount of times you caught that man staring at your ass definitely pointed more towards him liking you. Plus, Snap and Finn had both told you that Poe hadn’t had anyone back to his room since the two of you started…whatever it is that you two had going on. So, you decided to test his limits. Worst case scenario, he really wasn’t interested, and you would finally know. Best case scenario…well, maybe he would jump your bones.

“Soooo…you gonna acknowledge that Poe won’t stop staring at you or keep ignoring it?” You turned to look at Jessika who was staring at you with a raised eyebrow. You were fully aware of the Commanders eyes trailing your every move and were             quite enjoying the attention. Then again, who wouldn’t? Realizing Pava was still waiting for a response, you flashed her a mischievous smirk.

“I’m trying to see how long it takes him to snap.” You told her. Her eyes widened comically and then she was laughing. She clapped a hand on your shoulder and leaned in to whisper to you.

“Well, don’t look now but he’s coming this way.” She flashed you a wink before heading over to spend time with the other pilots. Sure enough, a few moments later you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

“Hey, can I borrow you for a moment?” You turned to face Poe who was staring at you with hooded eyes. As you turned to fully face him, his eyes raked down your figure and darkened even more. You were in your usual mechanic suit but had shrugged out of the top and tied it around your waist. This left you with nothing but a white tank that had essentially become see through due to the heat. It clung to you like a second skin and you could see the way Poe’s thoughts screeched to a stop as his eyes snagged on your chest. With a smirk, you leaned your weight onto one leg and put your hands on your hips, purposefully opening up your posture.

“Don’t know, Commander. I’m a little busy to be honest.” You watched as his eyes darkened even more at the use of his title and made sure to file that bit of information away for later use. Poe stepped up even closer to you and crowded you back against your workstation. He leaned his head down so he could whisper directly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’ve been working on the same part for 30 minutes now. You’re not busy and you know it. You wanted my attention, sweetheart, you got it.” His hands landed on either side of your hips, effectively trapping you in place. He was so close you could feel the smirk that rose on his lips as your breathing hitched.

“We are still in public, you know.”

“I really don’t care. I’ve had to watch that cute ass and those perfect tits be on display all day long. Now, let me take you to my room and show you just how much I’ve enjoyed the show.” Not trusting your voice, you gave a shaky nod and he hummed. You expected him to back off so you could follow him out of the hangar but instead, he leaned down and threw you over his shoulder.

“Poe! Put me down!” Your words fell on deaf ears as Poe turned and began heading out of the hangar. With a laugh, you settled yourself a little better, putting one elbow on his back so you could hold your chin up. Everyone in the hangar was watching the two of you in amusement. You caught the eye of Jessika and she gave you a thumbs up through her laughter. The cheers and wolf whistles of Black Squadron followed you out of the hangar and you found yourself chuckling.

Reaching Poe’s room, he punched in the code with his free hand before stepping in. He tossed you onto his bed, causing you to bounce with a shriek of laughter. His laughter joined yours, but he didn’t move from his position in front of the bed. You looked up at him expectantly and flashed a smile. He grinned back and ran a hand through his hair, but still didn’t move.

“What’s wrong, Poe?”

“Nothing! God, nothing. I just want to make sure this is what you want. I did kind of drag you in here.” There was hesitation on his face and all at once you understand. Sitting up on your knees, you reached for Poe and tugged him against you. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you settled your chin on his chest and looked up at him. He hesitated for a moment before his arms came to rest around your shoulders.

“Poe. I want this. I want you. Whatever that entails. I know you’re gone often, and I know how much this cause means to you. I understand that and I still want you, still want this. If you want me, of course.”

“IF I want you? Sweetheart, that’s definitely not in question here.” He told you with a smirk. One of his hands came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. He leaned down and pressed first a soft kiss to your forehead, followed by one to each of your eyes, your nose, and finally your lips. It was soft and sweet at first until Poe’s hand slipped into your hair and tugged softly to get your head to tilt. His tongue slipped easily into your mouth and you both moaned at the feeling. The two of you didn’t part until you needed air and as soon as you did, you began tugging at Poe’s shirt.

“Impatient.” He murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips before pulling away. He yanked his shirt off and threw it into the corner. You pulled your tank over your head as he was doing so, and Poe groaned as he took in the sight of you. He reached for you and gently laid you back on the bed, crawling onto it to lean over you. Trailing kisses over your neck and down to your collarbone, he paused to look up at you. His hands were resting on the band of your bra and you gave him a nod. He quickly rid you of the garment, tossing it away to join your shirts. His hands moved to cup your breasts and you gasped, arching into his touch. He was pressing kisses to your collarbone and you felt him smile against your skin. Deciding two could play at that game, you brought one of your hands up to cup him through his pants. He groaned at the contact and moved to take one of your nipples into his mouth in retaliation.

“Fuck me.” You breathed out as his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, his fingers rolling your other one.

“That’s the plan, baby.” He helped you shimmy out of your jumpsuit, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Poe kneeled between your legs and just looked you over for a moment. You felt a little shy under his heated gaze and found yourself squirming a little.

“What is it?”

“You’re so damn gorgeous.” He breathed out before leaning down to press kisses along your hips. He hooked his fingers in your underwear and slowly slipped them off of you. He kissed back up your legs before hovering over your pussy. “Wanna taste you, baby.”

“Fuck, please?” You gasped as Poe slowly licked a stripe up your pussy before focusing in on your clit. He worked you higher eventually slipping a single finger in. You cried out and buried one of your hands into his hair, tugging on the curls. He groaned against you and the vibration had you writhing. Throwing his other arm over your hips to keep them in place, he continued sucking on your clit. He inserted another finger and curled them against your walls. You cried out as your back arched and you could feel him grinning against you. “Fuck Poe, please. I’m so close.”

“I got you, sweetheart.” Slipping a third finger in, he pumped them in and out of you and focused his tongue on the little bundle of nerves. It was enough to send you tumbling over the edge with a cry. Poe worked you through it, only stopping when he felt you push slightly against his head. He wiped his face and hand off on the sheets before pressing a hard kiss to your lips. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” You breathed out, bringing your hands up to run along his chest. You slid your hands down to his waist, before tugging at his pants. He helped you get them off and you took the chance to flip him over while he was unsteady. Straddling his waist, you wrapped one hand around his cock and slowly pumped him.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” You leaned down to kiss him hungrily, your hand giving him a few more strokes before lining his tip up with your entrance. Poe’s hands came to grasp your hips tightly as you lowered yourself down on him. When your hips met his, you both stilled for a few moments before you rolled your hips experimentally. You immediately decided the groan that Poe let out was one of your favorite noises and endeavored to hear it more. You set a quick pace, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. Poe’s grip tightened to the point you were sure you’d have bruises on your hips but couldn’t find it in yourself to care. “Fuck, you take my cock so well, baby. You’re so damn tight.”

You shifted slightly and whined when the new angle had him hitting that spot in you that had you seeing stars. You felt one of his hands leave your hip only for him to begin rubbing your clit. You cried out as you felt the coil in your belly tighten in response.

“That’s it, sweetheart. I got you.” Poe’s fingers set a steady pace against your clit and his cock kept hitting that delicious spot inside you. Poe ground his hips up into yours and you found yourself wound almost painfully tight.

“Let go, baby. Let go.” The coil snapped and you came with a whine of his name. Poe flipped you without warning, his hips snapping into yours as he worked you through your orgasm and chased his own. A few thrusts later and he was stiffening against you and crying out your name. Poe collapsed against you, completely spent and the two of you laid together in the blissful aftermath. After a few moments, Poe slipped out of you and rolled to the side. You turned to face him and you both had satisfied smiles on your faces. Poe reached for you and pulled you so your head was tucked under his chin and you were snuggled against him.

“This isn’t a one-time thing, right?” You asked quietly. Poe jerked back to look at you, eyes wide.

“Fuck, no. I mean, unless you really want it to be?”

“No! No, I just wanted to make sure. I meant what I said earlier, I want this.” Poe pressed a kiss to your lips then your forehead.

“Good. Cause I want you for as long as you’ll have me, sweetheart.” You smiled and curled further into Poe’s embrace. Wrapped in his arms, you felt like you could face anything. You knew that tomorrow was never a guarantee working in the Resistance, but at least you would have each other in the days you did have ahead of you.

[waywardodysseys]

Risky Behavior - Oneshot

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Warnings: teasing, fingering, cussing

Requested? Yes from this ask - Ok like not to be full on but like I could imagine Pedro using his fingers under the table at the award show 👀👀👀🥵

Author’s note: none?!; enjoy!!!

~   ~   ~

Pedro sees you out of the corner of his eye on the silver carpet outside of the Shrine Auditorium. You’re dressed in a curve hugging, floor sweeping, thigh-high split black dress. Your Y/H/C hair is wavy. Pedro knows you don’t like to put much effort into wearing your hair up, you always prefer it down – so did he because he likes running his fingers through those soft Y/H/C locks.

You smile at the cameras when the photographers say your name, when they tell you to look one way, or another. You place a hand on your hip and give a sultry stare. That sultry stare made men grovel, but Pedro knew your body more than the men who drooled after you, knew your body well enough to know how to make you melt like butter under his touch. You belonged to him, he belonged to you. Pedro and you had been keeping your relationship under wraps for nearly a year and now you both were at an event together. In front of an enormous crowd, in front of cameras.

“Pedro?” His assistant’s voice cuts through the noise.

Pedro keeps his eyes on you. “What?”

“Entertainment Tonight wants a quick interview with you and Y/N. Is that okay? Her assistant says it’s fine as long as you are fine with it.”

Pedro nods, “yeah. It’s fine.”

Minutes later Pedro is standing centimeters from you on ET’s platform stage. He can smell your gardenia and lavender perfume. That scent covers his bedsheets, intoxicates him when he nuzzles your neck and inhales that scent. It’s a scent he’ll never forget, a scent he never wants to tire of.

Pedro smiles at you. “Y/N.”

“Pedro.” You say simply back to him.

“Alright,” Keltie Knight begins, “we have Pedro Pascal and Y/F/N Y/L/N here. You two work together on The Mandalorian. Are you still trying to get over the fact people are already clamoring for more Baby Yoda? And to see the Mandalorian be a single dad?”

Pedro laughs, “Baby Yoda makes the show. Well besides all of the crew and cast.”

“We are shooting season two here and there. I think people will be in for an amazing journey as they watch the Mandalorian be a single father to Baby Yoda,” you answer.

“Now there are rumors, Pedro,” Keltie pauses, “you could be in the Marvel Universe. And Y/N here, is already in the Marvel Universe. She going to pull any strings for you?”

Pedro looks at you then back at Keltie. He shrugs, “if she thinks I’m a good fit. Hopefully.”

“Y/N? Anything you could give us?” Keltie asks.

You smile, “no. Pedro’s already great as a masked Mandalorian, not sure if the world needs him to be under a mask again. I mean,” you lightly touch his face, “who’d want to keep this face hidden away?!”

Pedro’s body heats up at your light touch. His fingers ache to touch you in return.

You lightly place your hand on his shoulder, then run your hand down his arm. Your fingers graze his. You feel his thumb rub over your wrist before you tuck your hand away.

“Pedro could you give us anything about Wonder Woman 1984?” Keltie asks.

Pedro grins, “if I said anything they’ll come after me! I don’t want that to happen!”

“At least we know you are playing Maxwell Lord.” Keltie states.

“Correct.” Pedro replies.

“Alright you two, thank you for stopping by.” Keltie says with a smile.

“You’re welcome,” you and Pedro say at the same time.

Pedro watches as your assistant drags you off to another interview. His own assistant tells him it’s time for him to go inside. The SAG people need him backstage for a quick overview of what he’s going to be doing.

Pedro watches as you smile and nod at another interviewer. He sees your eyes lift and find him. He sees the sly smile you give, and he gives you one in return. Pedro couldn’t wait to see you inside.

-------

Inside the auditorium Pedro finally takes a seat at his table. Everybody is mingling as the lights begin to indicate five minutes before the program is about to begin. Pedro eyes the crowd, trying to find you. He finally lands his eyes on you as you make your way past Laura Dern, Reese Witherspoon.

He watches you walk toward him in a dress he can’t wait to unzip and take off because he wants to devour and touch the skin the fabric is hiding. Your curves, your moans, your intimate touches on his skin belonged to him.

“Y/N.” Pedro whispers. His voice is lathered with lust and desire. 

“Pedro,” you grin as you take a seat next to him.

“Mi amor. Necesito tocarte.”

His voice, his accent. He knows talking in Spanish will send a heatwave to your core.

You lean over, brush your lips against his ear. “I need your hands on me Pedro. Please.”

Pedro inwardly moans, mumbles a “fuck” under his breath. Without bringing attention to himself, he moves his chair closer to you as he slides his hand over your bare skin along the slit of your dress. You move some of the material over your lap, hiding his hand.

His touch is light, he feels the goosebumps covering your flesh. He then reaches your core, and you are without panties. Pedro shifts in his seat as his cock hardens instantly.

You bite your lip as Pedro’s fingers stroke your folds, opening them slowly, inserting one finger then two. He moves them slowly up and find your clit. You grab hold onto the table as he begins circling your sensitive nub slowly.

You look around the table. All eyes are on the stage. None on you and Pedro’s naughtiness, or risky behavior. You turn your head and brush your lips against his ears. “Keep going Pedro.”

He turns and looks at you. You Y/E/C eyes are looking into his coffee colored ones.

No one else matters in this moment as Pedro begins circling your clit faster.

Fuck!, your mind screams.

Your fingers grasp the table, your knuckles turning white then Pedro withdrawals his hand just as fast.

He leans over and places a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I want you craving my touch all night mi amor. I’m not giving into you just yet.”

You watch him leave. He knows you enjoy you watching him walk away because of his ass. It’s all yours. You grab it all the time – at home, out and about, during sex. Pedro Pascal is all yours. You moan inwardly at the thought of you both going home tonight and fucking each other like crazy.

Pedro walks on stage with Sophie in his goddamn glasses. You look at him with pure carnal lust and desire.

Mine!, is all your mind screams as your fingers ache to touch him, your mouth aches to kiss him.

He sees the look you give him. Pedro winks at you, knowing full well he is going to have you melting like butter when he returns to the table. He wants to take the risk; he wants to see you cum at his touch in public. He doesn’t care about the others; he cares about you.

Pedro decides to keep his glasses on as he walks back to the table and takes his seat next to you.

You reach out with your hand; you stroke his cheek with a finger. You press your lips against his ear. “I’m ready for more.”

He looks at you as he shoves his hand under your dress. “You. Are. Mine.”

“You shouldn’t be tempting me with your glasses Pedro,” you smirk then inwardly moan as his fingers slide into your pussy.

Pedro’s thumb finds your clit and begins rubbing it slowly. He watches as your fingers grasp the table. “Keep your legs uncrossed mi tentadora,” he hisses as you begin to cross them under the table.

You bite your lip, look down at your fingers. Your knuckles are turning white from the amount of pressure you are applying to the table. “Fuck,” you half moan, half whisper.

Your orgasm is building quickly inside of you. Pedro’s not going to stop until you’ve come undone, until you’ve melted like butter under his touch. You always melted like butter under his touch, ever since the first time he touched you with his mouth, his tongue, his hands.

You think about his hard, thick cock entering your pussy slowly. Filling your depths completely. Your hand snakes under the table. You touch his groin and feel his hard, thick cock under the material of his pants. Yes, you couldn’t wait to feel his cock inside of your pussy later.

The crowd around you begins clapping, standing to their feet.

Your orgasm explodes inside of you. You can’t contain your pleasure, can’t contain yourself anymore. You stand and clap and cheer. “Yes! Yes!”

You don’t know what you’re standing for, clapping for in the auditorium but privately you are clapping for the orgasm Pedro just gave you.

You look down at him and smile.

Pedro stands up and smiles at you. He kisses you deeply as he pulls you up against him. “Mi amor.”

“Pedro.” You whisper against his lips. “I can’t wait to get you home.”

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest​

[prettywordsyouleft]

Join Forces

this-song-thats-only-for-you said:

Congrats bb for reaching the milestone of 4k followers. I'm sitting here trying to think of a dare... and I think I may have figured one or two out. I dare you to insert DAY6 (any or all members) into either... your Airforce7 world or your King Of Demons world. I feel either would suffice in torturing us all. I love you, and everything that you write. You deserve to share your creations with the world.

Pairing: Brian Kang x reader (ft. Day6 and Got7)

World: Airforce7 (you can read HERE)

Genre: pilot au / friends to lovers / fluff

Warnings: a whole lot of pilots for just one story >_<

A/N: this was actually really fun, though I did struggle to get enough “air time” for everyone (I’m sorry okay!) in both forces. Still, it was really cute and I hope you enjoy their friendly competition!

For those who followed the Af7 series, this story fits in timeline wise between Poster Boy and Fly Away With Me.

Word count: 3579

The dance hall was lively enough but when Brian stood up and headed towards the stage with his friends, several hollers and whistles increased the noise within the room. He couldn’t help but grin, gesturing to the bassist if he could take over, moving beside the standing instrument and looking over at Jae slinging the guitar strap over his head. Staring out into the forming crowd, Brian noticed you watching on and he jerked his head in direction of the stage, asking you to get up here and join them.

It was tradition, after all.

“Should I sing for you boys today?” you wondered as you took Sungjin’s outstretched hand, climbing up and shooting Dowoon a wink. “It’s been what, three months since you’ve been here?”

“Shoot us for being busy,” Brian replied with a chuckle and your ruby lips spread into a smile just for him.

Jae chuckled. “I’m trying not to be shot at all, thanks. But come on Y/N, for old time’s sakes. Everyone’s waiting for us.”

“Well, we can’t miss the opportunity to put on a good show now, can we? Sungjin, are you ready?” The fellow singer nodded and then you glanced at Wonpil who playfully hit the keys on the piano to let you know he was prepared to go all out. Turning to Dowoon, you nodded once. “Count us in then!”

The dance floor erupted with energetic moves as the bass thumped around the room and Jae played dizzy inducing riffs. Wonpil was bouncing around too much in his seat that he kicked it back, playing the piano excitedly and singing along.

There was no place better than this on Earth.

After performing two more songs, Brian noticed the music had dragged newcomers in from the streets, the uniforms looking out of place even though they matched the same as his own. He glanced in your direction and you nodded, hitting your note effortlessly thereafter.

You were already putting on a show, but there was no harm in starting the competition early. Eventually, the set ended and the room broke out into rowdy applause, Brian laughing as he was jostled by his fellow men, thanking them as he weaved his way back to the table for his drink.

“Not bad,” an all too familiar voice commented and Brian glanced up to see the seven men now standing before him and his friends. He chuckled as reached out to touch the insignia on Brian’s shirt and nodded with satisfaction. “A Lieutenant now, huh?”

“Someone had to get up on par with you, Im Jaebum.”

“But are you really as good of a team as us?”

“Wang’s right, have you learned to dance yet, Jaehyung?” Yugyeom, the youngest of the formidable AIRFORCE7 task force enquired with a cheeky grin, clicking his feet together in tune to the music.

Youngjae let out a hearty laugh and nodded. “I can hold a tune just as well so maybe I should get up there and get singing too?”

“Ey, it’s all a little bit of fun, there’s no need to bring in the competition until we’re on the tarmac boys,” Sungjin, the leader of their squadron announced, patting Mark’s arm in a friendly manner. “Let us enjoy the evening before we take you down in the skies.”

“Big words for a guy who can’t even dance,” BamBam mentioned, winking down at one of the ladies sitting at the table nearby. Emily got up and graced the man with a smile, leaning into BamBam’s face ever so slightly before moving to take Sungjin’s hand.

“Who says my man can’t dance?”

“Oh, so it’s on!” Jackson exclaimed, clapping his hands together and shrugging off his jacket and hat. He was soon out finding someone to dance with, several of the other members following suit.

Brian glanced down at Jae who had taken Emily’s seat. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

“Not dancing?”

“Do we dance, Becky?”

The woman beside him curled up her lips and shrugged. “Do we, Jae?”

“No, I don’t think as a pilot it’s in my job description to know how to dance.”

“Are you on working hours right now?” Wonpil wondered with a roll of his eyes, tugging on Sarah’s hand to get her up from the table. “Besides, do you want to let Yugyeom have his glory just like last year?”

“I’d rather keep my dignity,” his fellow friend announced and Becky giggled.

“Which is where? Weren’t you trying to lose that the other day with-”

“Would you look at that, maybe I might just get these feet of mine to dance!” Jae stated with a hasty laugh, dragging his girlfriend out onto the floor with him, trying to find the most inconspicuous spot to fail within. Dowoon was shyly asking some of the ladies to dance with him and that left Brian staring down at you drinking and trying to avoid his gaze entirely.

“Y/N.”

“Oh no, I’m done for the night. I sang for you, don’t go begging for anything else, soldier.”

“Are you really going to let me look like a fool?” he questioned and you finally looked up at him, smirking as you nodded. He groaned loudly. “Y/N!”

“You can’t expect your good looks and charm to work on all the ladies. I grew up with you, remember. I know all about you, and that boyish stare of yours is not compelling me to dance with you. Any other girl would be thrilled to have your attention so go find someone else. After all, I’m still annoyed with you for not writing me once when you were away on training.”

He didn’t move, still outstretching his hand at you. “So do your longest friend a favour before this war comes our way.”

“That is a low blow and you know it.”

“You know I’m coming home again, so trust in me, won’t you?” he argued, yanking you to your feet and over to the dance floor. “I’m a great pilot.”

“You’re a dreadful dancer.”

“Well, at least we can say we tried and isn’t this weekend all about putting in our best effort?”

You laughed. “Brian, I’m not the one competing in this year’s race like you are. I don’t have to put in any effort.”

“And you won’t have to use any skill in dancing with me,” another voice offered, tapping Brian on the shoulder. You looked up into the eyes of the pilot standing there, Park Jinyoung smiling graciously at you. Brian wanted to laugh, you sure put up a fuss about his charms and yet the steadily growing blush on your cheeks proved just how easily you could fall for a man.

Brian only gripped at your waist more firmly.

“Y/N has a dancing partner, find your own, Park.”

Jinyoung chuckled. “I think we still have unfinished business from last year, don’t you?”

“I uh…” Glancing between your friend and the enticement of his competition, you groaned. “This is why I don’t dance. Why don’t you both partner with each other and stop trying to give a lady a headache?”

“Now, why would I want to do that?” Jinyoung mused, slipping his hand into yours that came away from Brian’s shoulder all too easily. “We all know that Kang here can’t dance and we established you and I can together last time. Won’t you give me just one dance, Y/N?”

“You’re fraternising with the enemy!” Brian grumbled as you managed to be torn away from him, leaving him staring after you bitterly.

He might have lost today, but tomorrow he’d show him just how good of a pilot he was compared.

The skies were clear, a light breeze being the only concern over the horizon. There was already a lot of bustle within the hangar; the members of the base’s task force team were hard at work making sure their mustangs were ready for the big event of the day.

It was sometimes hard to keep the morale up in the air force, especially with how the war was shaping up overseas. It was a reality they would end up flying into sooner than later, and ensuring everyone was ready to do so to protect the nation was all the pilots thought of day in and out.

Except for one day each year.

“She’s ready to fly, don’t you think?” Dowoon announced, slapping a hand onto the side of the wing, tapping at it with an energetic tune from last night. Brian grinned as he nodded.

“You better take that Crazy Horse down a peg or two. It’s not the only Trick Pony in the skies now.”

The youngest member of the team chuckled, glancing at the name on the nose of his plane before ducking under the wing to continue with final checks.

The night had ended with all the men laughing together, the drinks had been good and the company even better. Although the friendly competition always brought out the worse in them, they knew it had its time and place and after announcing Jae still didn’t have what it took to dance his way into any finals but was the best with a guitar, they had called it even for each team.

“What are you going to do though?” Mark asked Sungjin before they parted ways, smiling a little too much to sound truly concerned. “Mayday-Six is a five team squadron now. Airforce-Seven has two members up on you, Park. Gonna make two men run twice? I don’t know, I just feel sorry for you having to work harder.”

“Harder? You do know that anyone of the cadets here could take out BamBam without trying too hard? Maybe I’ll take one on for the day.”

“Y/N could probably fly better than he could,” Wonpil bravely bolstered, getting an elbow in his side from his girlfriend Sarah before her friend could react.

Jinyoung smirked, nodding along with this thought. “I wouldn’t mind seeing this actually.”

“Hey! I take offence to that!” BamBam told his fellow member, who merely laughed in satisfaction.

“You’d be worried then, Jinyoung,” you told him, fixing the collar of his shirt before smiling at your best friend. “I might get too excited and want to take you on next.”

Brian couldn’t help but grin as he replayed the way the man had stopped smiling, his ears filling with the laughter from last night’s memory.

And soon with your voice this morning too. “Ready for today, pilots?!”

“There will be no maydays called through either, we’re keeping this safe. That name of yours always makes me so uneasy,” Sarah stated as she handed out muffins to those who wanted something to eat. Brian took the freshly brewed coffee from your hand and smiled.

“You know me too well.”

“I figured you’d be too busy making sure the planes are ready without putting enough fuel into yourself.”

“Now I’ll be more than ready to fly.”

“Can’t you fly in your sleep?” Becky wondered as she passed by, attempting to climb up to Jae in the cockpit. She soon gave up and instructed him to get down.

“Only thirty minutes until the first race begins, right?” Emily asked and Sungjin nodded frantically, kissing her on the cheek before darting over to the second plane in the hangar and checking it over. “Don’t be nervous, it’s just a friendly match between base camps.”

“Though you’re going to make Yugyeom suffer for laughing at us, Jae.”

“Yes ma’am. Last night it got personal. Time to make sure he regrets flying against me and my beast.”

Becky rolled her eyes. “You say the most foolish of things; I don’t know why I love you.”

“But you do.”

“Guys, can you stop making me feel lonely? Take the lovey-dovey stuff out of the hangar already,” Dowoon whined, his tone thick with jealousy.

“Brian’s single too,” Wonpil pointed out with a chuckle and he glanced over at his youngest friend. “You don’t hear him complaining like you always are.”

“I need you to do me a favour,” you said as the other ladies went to leave to take their place along the sidelines, calling for you to follow them out. Glancing after them, you then smiled up at Brian.

“What is it?”

“Beat Park Jinyoung for me.”

He grinned. “After last night, I was intending on it.”

“If you beat anyone else, I’ll just see you as being cocky.”

“Isn’t that how you view me anyway?”

You tried to hide your smile. “Do you best, soldier.”

Reaching up, you brushed your lips over his cheek, stunning him as his skin grew warm. You then rushed off, giggling with your friends and Brian almost doubled over when Sungjin slapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like he’s not so single now, Dowoon.”

“Snap to it, Kang. You heard Y/N, we need to beat them!” Wonpil added on, clicking his fingers in Brian’s face.

“Mayday-Six will not face the same fate as last year. We might be two down compared to their team, but we’ve got enough skill to prove that in this war, there’s a place for both elite forces.”

“Well, the more the merrier, isn’t that what Cap says?” Jae announced with a cringe, and the four others all groaned and pushed him away. “What? We’re training to go to war and the way people are falling out of the skies over there, they’ll want more pilots as good as us.”

“Today it’s a different kind of war,” Sungjin replied with a smile, pulling the team back into focus. “Let’s make ourselves proud, men!”

It didn’t start out as well as they hoped, both leaders of each team going against one other. The race was a game of speed, both in who could get up faster than the other and then who could make it around the set track the fastest. Sungjin had been just behind Jaebum in each part, the disappointment evident on his face when he leapt out of his plane.

Jae, however, had been easily able to take on Mark, running across the turf to where Becky stood after winning and picking her up victoriously. Dowoon managed to just inch ahead of Jackson at the last second, boosting the team’s excitement and putting further pressure on Brian when he rolled his plane up to the starting line next to Jinyoung’s. They were easy well-matched, both pilots extremely good at what they did. It was the type of race Brian wanted most, knowing when he went up against BamBam next that it would be like taking candy from a baby.

But with Jinyoung, Brian could be as confident as he wanted to be. Still, it would come down to the flight itself.

“May the best pilot win, Kang,” he heard radioed through and he looked over at Jinyoung, nodding once. “I’m going to ask Y/N to date me if I win today.”

“Don’t you know she’s already a taken woman?” Brian replied, and Jinyoung laughed happily. “She doesn’t do long-distance well either.”

“You better not get caught up away in this war coming our way for too long then. I might just take her from you.”

“Unlike you, Park, I’m not going to treat her as something I can win. But you sure as hell are going to lose right here today.”

The signal to go went off and he pushed down the throttle, steering with his joystick as the war-machine bounced with the sudden energy asked of it. Brian cursed when he left the land barely a second behind Jinyoung, though he easily gained enough air to soon be side by side. He could see Jinyoung wasn’t thrilled to have no head start, the pilots both flying around the first quarter mark at the same time. There they stayed around the aerodrome, whizzing by the second and third markers easily. It wasn’t intentionally a dirty race, yet Jinyoung clipped in too close taking the final corner, giving Brian not a lot of room to safely turn.

So he did what best he could given the situation, rolling his plane under his competitor before speeding off again, taking the lead just enough to cross the finishing line first.

“Are you okay, Kang?” Jinyoung radioed through and they slowed their planes down enough for landing and Brian laughed.

“I expected you to be a sore loser.”

“Not at the expense of you crashing. I thought I had lost you then.”

“Well, it was a close one. Glad to see you and I still match well enough.”

“Don’t you go getting yourself in trouble when I’m not around then. We can play games like this all we want, but its people like you I want to fight alongside.”

They landed and Brian got the all clear to hop out, going over to his competitor’s plane and holding out his hand. Jinyoung shook it firmly.

“Just a word between you and I, Y/N turned me down last night when we danced. Something about loving some cocky best friend of hers. I’m assuming this kind of information might be of use to you.”

Brian grinned, slapping Jinyoung on his back as they walked off. “I think I owe you a drink later!”

Still, they had several rounds left to go and despite it all, it came down to Jackson and Dowoon competing with how well they could perform tricks up in the air. Even though Brian wanted his team to win, with a biased crowd, Jackson didn’t really stand a chance.

And he was adamant about it once back on the ground. “Him?! Did you not see that last barrel roll I performed?!”

Sungjin chuckled and slapped the whining pilot on his back gently. “Come on mate, I’ll get you a meal.”

Brian hadn’t seen you after the friendly match had ended, searching around the crowd for your face over dinner. After asking of you to your three friends, he headed out the back of the base towards the lake, hoping he’d find you here.

“One more move and I’ll shoot!”

He turned to find you sitting in the broken fortress cockpit, smiling at him brightly. Brian ignored your warning, jogging over to the other side and hoisted himself up onto the wing into the cockpit. He then looked at you with amusement. “Aren’t we a bit too old to be playing up in this?”

“You’re the one who just climbed in. I was fine in here by myself.”

“Oh, so I’m the one who has to go?” he teased though your smile faded; now chewing on your bottom lip in thought. Brian sighed. “I do have to go.”

“I know.”

“It’s not any time yet though,” he attempted and you scoffed.

“You don’t know that, this war is getting dangerous so the reports say.”

“Isn’t all war dangerous?”

“You’re not easing my worries any,” you pointed out, turning away from him.

Brian remained silent for a minute or two, the guilt he felt over leaving you whilst he protected the nation had been on his mind for longer than just now. The last training camp had only intensified his understanding of what would be expected of him as an elite pilot. It wasn’t something he could just promise to come back fine from.

He wasn’t confident enough to ease that part of your worries even if he had tried light-heartedly a couple of times.

“You’ll write to me every week.”

“I’ll do it every day,” he offered and you looked over your shoulder, giggling some. “What? I’ll do it.”

“You hate writing.”

“I hate it more when you’re sad.”

“I’m not ready for what is to come of all of this, but I am certainly proud of what you’ve done so far,” you admitted and Brian smiled.

“Like beating Jinyoung today?”

“That was a given, I knew you would.”

“Is that so?”

“I gave you a kiss of good luck, how could you fail with that?!”

Brian chuckled, leaning closer to you. “I think you missed the target entirely, Y/N.”

“Huh?”

Reaching out for the joystick beside you, he placed your hand under his, guiding your thumb to the trigger right as he lowered his mouth onto yours. He felt your hand tighten against the stick as the kiss deepened, and he smiled, shifting his free hand up into your hair. Right as the embrace started growing breathless, the plane you sat within let out an unexpected bang, both of you leaping apart and letting go of the controls altogether.

“What the hell was that?!” he breathed and you pushed on him to get out, in which he did, leaping down onto the wing before turning around to help you out. Once on the ground, you both laughed before joining together to finish the kiss where you had left it off.

“Here they are!”

“Aw man, I am the last one after all.”

“Enough private celebrations you two, we’re champions and we need to make sure everyone in Airforce-Seven remembers that until next year!”

“Are we really joining them?” Brian murmured, uncaring of their jeers and you nodded, slipping your hand into his.

“We better put in our best effort,” you replied, and Brian laughed, pulling you along as you both rushed to catch up with your team.

The future was undecided and even if Brian wasn’t so sure what he was going to do when he was away from you, at least he knew he’d give it his all.

_________________

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Making the Grade

For @fairladymorgana as requested for a Raffle prize!

Warnings: slight non/dubcon elements, rough sex, oral sex, masturbation.

This is (dark)Professor!Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

For any other college student, Friday night meant the party was just beginning. But for you and the twenty other students in Warfare in the Twentieth Century, it was yet another class. It was the most dreaded slot in the schedule. Any professor was certain to have barely fifty-percent attendance and any student desperate enough to attend was faced with a weekly sense of FOMA. Really, for everyone, it was a bad time.

Well, except for Professor Barnes. Of the twenty-one students who hadn’t dropped his weekend-crushing course, sixteen of them were female; including you. It was a poorly kept secret why and you often rolled your eyes at the obvious dopey grins which spread across the faces of your fellow pupils. All along the front rows they sat, elbows on the small table attached to their seats, leaning forward as they admired every move made by the dark-haired instructor. You doubted their attention went so far as actually comprehending his words.

You couldn’t deny that he was an attractive man. He was probably the hottest man you had ever seen in person and yet you opted to hide in the middle rows, slouching as you typed away. Your sole study buddy in the class, Colton, sat at your side, munching on Doritos as he listened. Despite his lack of notes, he had aced every paper so far and you, well, you were struggling. And behind. 

Even if this class wasn’t scheduled at the cusp of the weekend, you’d be pent up all until Monday buried under textbooks and academic journals as you struggled to keep stride with your workload. It wasn’t that you were lazy, merely overly-committed. You spent Saturday afternoons at the food bank volunteering, other evenings spent at the library as a an aide to first-years in the writing clinic, and the small amount of time left between classes you spent studying. College was not such a party for you.

Even now, rather than taking lecture notes you were typing away at the paper due Sunday night for that very class. You doubted you’d get it done in time but you were determined to spend every second trying to do just that. It didn’t help that you found yourself distracted by Professor Barnes’ voice every now and then, looking up to find him standing before the front row, describing in detail the tactics developed during the Pacific campaign. You should have been enthralled as it was a topic you actually knew a lot about but instead you were drawn to how his rolled sleeves bunched just beneath his biceps, nearly bursting through the fabric. Goddamn, don’t be like the rest of these daydreaming fools. You had a GPA you actually cared about.

And then he looked higher. His blue eyes catching your guilty ones as you tried to look like you had actually deciphered his words. Why the fuck had you chosen Monte Cassino? The Italian front was your least favourite. Whatever. It didn’t matter, you had to make this sound logical. You blinked at him until he turned his attention elsewhere, his hand drawing out the battle lines in the air. Describing the Japanese bunkers and the coral rock of Peleliu. You could read the slides later but you had to get this draft finished.

“Well, I think I’ll do you all a favour tonight. Go enjoy your Fridays a whole…” He checked his watched, “Twenty minutes early.” He clapped his hands together, “But remember you owe me. Next Saturday,” The class groaned, “I know, I know, I have a life to, you know? Anyways, open house in my office next Saturday. Midterm marks, comments, questions, everything you need to be successful in this course. Please, try to make an appearance.” He pleaded casually but you could here the genuine quality in his voice, “Ten minutes each. I’ll be there noon to five. That’s all.”

“Jesus, Saturday,” Colton grumbled as you were dismissed and he stood, draining the last of his Monster, “He must be desperate. I don’t even know any faculty who are here on Saturdays. The last time I was in the history building on a weekend, I swear I had a paranormal experience.”

“Well, I might just have to do it to get in his good graces. I doubt I’ll get my paper in on time.” You whined, “I should have dropped this when I had the chance.”

“You can’t abandon me like that,” He kidded as you walked down the steps, Professor Barnes was behind his desk packing up as a mob of his fans preened over him. They didn’t really have any real questions, just relative enough to justify their presence. You sighed and looked to Colton. “I guess I should wade into the herd and try to talk myself into an extension...I’ll see you later.”

“I can wait,” He offered.

“I don’t think so. With this crowd, I’ll be here forever. Besides, I know Devin’s waiting for you. Some sports thing tonight or whatever.” You shrugged.

“Yeah, some sports thing,” He scoffed, “Try to wait for them to disperse. They might bite.”

He smirked as he left you to wait for the gradual thinning of giddy college girls. You couldn’t deny that your professor was of the few attractive individuals among the faculty but you weren’t delusional. He was your teacher and by no means a love interest. College was not meant for romance but rather stupid mistakes to reminisce on when you were old and boring. Ha, sure. You had entered your boring phase the moment you stepped on campus.

Finally, the last pair of students left and you tentatively approached Professor Barnes. He raised a brow, the exasperation plain on his face. You hoped that because you rarely bothered him he’d take it easy on you. 

“Hey,” He greeted, setting his bag on his desk as if to communicate his impatience to be gone. “Y/N, is it?”

“Uh, yeah,” You smiled shyly, “I’m sorry. I know you wanna go as bad as everyone else but I just um, wanted to talk to you about the paper. I…” You bit your lip guiltily and looked down, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to finish on time.”

“No?” He said, his tone unyielding, “Well, you’ve known the deadline since week one so I don’t see how it should be a problem now.”

“I know, I just--” You looked back up at him and sighed. It was useless. “Okay, no. I just figured I’d ask.”

He glanced around the room as he thought. “Look, do what you can and hand it in. We can talk about it next Saturday at the open house. If it’s a complete disaster, I’ll consider a rewrite.” He looked down at you pointedly, “Consider.” He repeated sternly.

“Okay,” You nodded eagerly, “Alright, okay. Thank you.”

“We’ll see,” He reminded you, hooking his bag over his shoulder, “Now please, let me go home.”

You actually laughed at that and he ushered you to the door, closing it behind him. The two of you took different paths in the hallway and you let out a breath of relief as you turned the next corner. A little breathing room.

***********

Well, it wasn’t enough. It had been a week and you were still fighting to finish your paper, adding footnotes, adjusting format, inserting points you had completely glossed over. You had failed to hand it in as you saw the pathetic mess as barely worth the bother of anyone trying to read it. Instead you were going to get it right and beg mercy at the open house. Even if it took all night.

Which it did. You fell asleep as the sun peeked in your dorm window, your face across the keyboard. You awoke with a jolt, your screen with a dozen calculators sprawled over it. You closed all thirty-six and printed out your final copy. You looked at the time in the corner and your heart jumped. Shit! It was already five-thirty! You got to your feet, stumbling as you pulled your canvas jacket over your tank top, not even bothering with a bra; you would keep your jacket zipped up. You stuffed your feet into your vans, sweatpants rolled halfway up your ankles as you seized your keys  and paper and charged out the door.

Your sides were burning as you reached the history building and tossed yourself into the ancient elevator, bracing yourself against the wall as it slowly lurched upward. You stepped out into the maze of upper hallways and grumbled. You hated the way these offices were laid out as if David Bowie had stolen your baby brother. First you ended up at a set of seemingly forgotten washrooms and then by some records storage, and finally, you felt like you were on the right path; all the signs told you so at least.

‘Professor B. Barnes’ was etched into a placard pointing to the next hall. You turned the corner, hoping he had lingered to finish up his teaching work or maybe another student was overstaying their welcome. As you neared, you realized how empty the building was. And quiet. Colton was right; there had to be ghosts up here.

You heard a moan and it all but confirmed your suspicions. Was it worth possession to hunt down a likely empty office? The moan came again and you tilted your head. No, that was a human. It was deep and luring. You looked at the square clock on the wall; quarter to six. You crept forward, the door denoting ‘Prof. B. Barnes, M.A’. The door looked as if it had fallen open and you got closer and closer, the noise coming from within. Slowly you pushed the door inward, poking your head around and gasping.

The back of a leather chair faced you, a head of dark hair pressed against the top of it as it rocked and the moaning continued. Oh, fuck. It stopped as the small wisp escaped your lungs, giving away your intrusion and you dropped the paper as you turned to flee before he could turn fully to you. Apparently no one else had shown up and your professor had chosen to take advantage of it. 

Oh god, you’d just have to take the fail.

You weren’t so lucky as that. You were pulled back as your name bounced down the empty corners of the hallway. You turned back and Professor Barnes released you, his face calm as if he hadn’t been caught. As if you hadn’t seen anything. “You’re late.” He said. He held your paper in his hand, “So’s this.” He held it up.

“I know,” You said weakly, unsure what else to say. You certainly didn’t want to talk about what you had walked in on. “But...I’m sorry, I just, I worked so hard on it.”

He shook his head, looking at the title page of your paper as he flicked it. “Right then, let’s talk and maybe you can convince me.” He stepped aside, standing parallel to the wall as he waited for you to precede him to the office. You were torn between flight and one last grasp at a passing grade. You took the latter and passed him, wringing your hands as you returned to his office. If you acted like nothing had happened, then it didn’t, right?

He followed you, keeping a few feet behind as you sat in the chair which faced his on the other side of the desk. You quirked your lips as you waited for him, the door clicking shut as he entered. Shit. You clutched your knees and hunched forward as he rounded to the other side and sat, steadying your paper on the edge of his desk as he flipped to the intro. He sighed and sat back, letting it go as he slid it onto the desktop.

“I really can’t make exceptions,” He said, “I’m sorry. It looks like a well-written paper but it just wouldn’t be fair. Don’t you think? I mean, how would you feel?”

You nodded and looked down, ready to just leave. He hadn’t even given you a chance. Did he get off on making students squirm? Well, I mean he got off on something judging by his previous activity. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I should--”

“You’d have to have a very convincing reason to make me change my mind,” He interrupted, staring at you as the corner of his mouth twitched. “So, why should I even read this?” He tapped the desk with his finger.

“I...I…” You stuttered, “I’ve just been so busy and I wanted it to be perfect. Between volunteering and all my other classes, which I’m also behind in, I just couldn’t...get my shit together, I guess.”

“Mmm,” He leaned back in his chair as he considered you. Still he didn’t really look mad. You rubbed your neck and he seemed please by the show of nerves. “And you didn’t ask Colton for help? You and him seem close?”

“We study together,” You explained, “But I mean, he’s not much of a help. He’s like an encyclopedia without pages. He doesn’t really write stuff down.”

“You see him often?” He asked.

“Uh, in class, sometimes we meet up at the library,” You forehead creased in confusion, “What does it matter?”

“So you and him, you’re not…” He raised a brow, “I mean. You’re both young college students, it only seems natural.”

“No, no,” You could have laughed, “Ew, no. He’s like a brother; the kind who puts gum in your hair and ketchup packets on your chair.”

He narrowed his eyes, pleased with your answer. He shifted in your chair. “It’s a big campus, there must be a guy.”

“I don’t have time for guys,” You huffed, growing tired of his interrogation. “Look, either you’re going to read it or I’m going to fail. Either one, I’d just like a straight answer.”

“Woah,” He braced the edge of his desk, standing up sharply, “I am your professor. Show me a little respect.” He leaned on the desktop, his tongue poking out and running across his bottom lip as he stared you down. “Take off your jacket.”

“Why--” He raised his hand in a gesture for silence, tilting his head in warning.

“So far you’ve not been very convincing so why don’t you put some effort into it,” He smirked, “Jacket.” He snapped his fingers and you stared up at him and gripped the arms of the chair.

Your mouth opened and shut without a response and you slowly reached up to tug on your zipper, pulling it down as the sound ruffled your nerves. You let it fall open, revealing the grey shirt which barely concealed your nipples. He touched his shoulders, a silent order to remove it. You obeyed, the process awkward as you remained in the chair.

He watched every move and you realized his eyes had strayed from your face, quickly finding the thin fabric of your tee. “I like my students to be comfortable with me,” He methodically stepped around the desk, looking down on you as he came up behind you, “When you’re in my office, I want you to relax,” He gathered your hair in his hands, “And I want you to listen.” He tightened his grip on your locks and pulled your head back so you stared up at him. “I know that’s not one of your better skills.”

Your face burned at his words. It was true that you rarely paid attention in his lecture but it was for good reason. One of his hands snaked around, spreading across your throat as he bent down to speak into your ear. “So, do you think you can change my mind or should I just mark this as zero in the books?” You gulped as his lips grazed your cheek, his breath singing you.

“Wh-what do you want me to do?” You asked in a whisper.

“Ugh,” He groaned, standing as he kept hold of your hair, his other hand playing with the neckline of your tee shirt. “I’ve been asking myself that for the last month. What do I want you to do? Hell, what don’t I want you to do?”

You were shocked. You had been certain you had barely been noticed past the flock of fan girls and yet it seemed the center of attention had kept all of his on you. He knew you sat with Colton and that you never listened. Well, it was easy enough for you not to notice as you were often halfway through a breakdown over your latest assignment.

“First, I want you naked,” He tugged your hair before letting go entirely, stepping back. “Stand and turn around.”

You rose and did as he said, his arms crossed as he waited and watched. You undressed one piece at a time. Vans slipping off as easily as they were donned, jeans unbuttoned with trembling fingers, slid down your thighs, tee shirt messing your hair as you shivered, your panties the last of your defenses. You hesitated before rolling them down, his gaze glued to your breasts at you bent to remove them. Thus you stood before him, bare and desperate for that A. And maybe something more.

“Stay there,” He neared but you were surprised as he passed you. You stood stalk still, listening at the sound of rustling paper and little clicks and clacks. He returned to your view and looked you up and down, his mouth slanted in a lurid grin. “On the desk. Turn around and on all fours.”

“Okay,” You said feebly and made to turn but he caught your arm.

“Call me Professor,” He squeezed your arm before releasing you.

“Yes Professor,” You uttered as you spun around.

You neared the desk, setting your hands on the cleared wooden surface before willing yourself forward. With one leg up, you were already exposed. The next and you were on full display, steadying yourself on hands and knees. You could feel the cool air along your pussy as warmth settled there. Rough hands scared you as they ran the length of your thighs, kneading your ass and spreading your cheeks for a better look at your pussy. You shook and he purred in approval at your reaction.

He pressed against your ass, leaning his weight on you until you felt his lips along your folds teasing you before delving deeper. You gasped at the first taste, the tip of his tongue poking at your entrance, your arousal spilling forth. He ran the length of your sex until he flicked your clit, the twitch it elicited made him snicker into your flesh. He dragged his tongue along your clit again, grazing it over and over as you pelvis flinched unwillingly.

“Ah,” You hissed, trying not to moan though it felt so good. You couldn’t believe this was happening. You were letting your instructor eat you out for a grade. It was like some poorly produced erotica. You clung to the edge of the desk, pushing your back end high as the first whine escaped you, the buzzing blooming and spreading down your legs. Your thighs trembled as he grew more persistent, his tongue agile as it drew forth an orgasm. It had been almost a year since you had been pleasured by more than silicone.

Your breath was laboured as you fell to your elbows, reeling in the after waves. His hands snaked around your legs and pulled them back off the desk, your feet barely reaching the floor as you were bent over. You heard his fly followed by a sigh and a prod along your ass. He guided his tip along your skin until he reached your entrance, hovering there as his hand spread on your lower back. “Now it’s turn. What do you want me to do?”

You lifted your head, looking over your shoulder as reality broke through your haze. You pouted, mortified as you realized there was only one answer. “I…” You swallowed your nerves and forced out your voice, “I want you to fuck me, Professor.”

He smirked and pushed inside roughly, allowing you no resistance as he filled you entirely. He was bigger than you expected. You dropped your head down on your forearm as you let out a low growl. He thrust sharply, allowing a moment between each as you were jolted into the desk. His hand was still on your back, holding you down as he slid in and out. Your pussy thrummed and you murmured in delight as each thrust against your sensitive walls sent a thrill up your spine.

As his motion steadied and his thrust grew closer together, your hips crashed against the lip of his desk and he began to groan. His voice was foggy as he spoke, slapping your ass so that it stung. “Naughty girl,” *slap* “Handing in your paper late.” *slap* “I don’t give easy A’s in my class.” *slap* He gripped your hips, hammering into you as you helplessly bounced against the desk, a withdrawn moan rising as another orgasm shook you.

He pulled out of you, forcing you back and you stood on wobbly legs. He pushed on your shoulders until you relented and fell to your knees before him. You stared up at him, his cock hanging out of his open pants, the untucked tails of his shirt forming a v around the base. He looked to his length, reaching out to clamp your head between his hands and drew you close. “You gotta work hard if you want to pass,” He gristled as his tip slipped past your lips and you opened wider and wider with each inch.

As he entered your throat and met his limit, you slapped your palms against his thighs, gripping him as he led your mouth along his cock. You relaxed your jaw, keeping your tongue taut against his length as he bobbed your head up and down himself, his pelvis working just as hard as he fucked your face. Despite your gags, he did not relent, your nails digging into his flesh. He sank deeper than before as he groaned and you felt a sudden burst of warmth, his cum leaking down your throat as you did your best to swallow, afraid you would choke.

He didn’t remove himself until he was empty, the last drops of his cum and your saliva dripping down your chin. You leaned forward, holding yourself up on shaky arms. He put his cock back in his pants, zipped them up and tucked in his shirt. He knelt before you, his fingers on your chin as he forced you to look at him. “I’ll read it.” He smiled, his thumb rubbed your cheek as you panted at him wordlessly, “Five percent docked for late submission.”

[p-osie]

josh peck’s relationship test

author’s note: i wrote this for myself, with my own name inserted, so it’s not super universal, but i’m sure you can make it work. i just love me some david, hope you do too. 

summary: y/n and david film a relationship test with josh peck, then can’t keep their hands off each other in the tesla on the ride home :)

warnings: smut xoxo

“I already hate this,” I say, sitting next to Josh and tucking my feet under my legs.

Josh and David both look at me. “Why?” Josh asks, serious, looking expectant.

“Because now I can’t cuddle David,” I say, popping my voice up an octave and making puppy eyes at David.

Josh pouts his lip and David wracks with laughter, clapping his hands.

Jason’s on the other side of the room, behind the camera. “That’s an intro.”

As Josh scrolls through his notes, looking for the first question, I put my eyes on David.

“Hey,” I whisper seductively, loud enough for the camera. “You look so hot right now.”

“Whoa, Y/N,” Josh scolds, not looking up.

David ignores him, making his face go slack, copying my whisper. “I was just about to tell you the same thing, you steamy little slut.”

“David, ew–” Jason pipes, but I lean into it, sticking out my tongue and leaning towards him. We pull away, right before our mouths touch, both laughing, Josh still uncomfortable.

“We can go, if you guys want,” Jason jokes.

David pulls on Josh’s arm. “Yeah, that would be great, actually.”

At this point, I almost pee myself laughing, my hands covering my mouth.

“Can I please just ask you guys the questions?” Josh groans, still hamming up how uncomfortable he is.

“What’s David’s favorite food?”

“Oh, God. I have no idea,” I lean forward, staring into space, feeling both David and Josh watching me.  “He posts about food so much. He loves so many different types of food…”

I pause for a second. “Actually, yeah. He doesn’t have one.”

Josh gives me a sad face. David cracks his gum, irritated. “Babe. Come on. Buffalo Wild Wings.”

“Oh, as if. You haven’t had B Dubs in months.”

“So?” David argues defensively. “It’s still my favorite.”

“Ugh, fucking– whatever.” I pretend to be mad.

“David?” Josh looks down at my boyfriend.

“Josh?” David mimics, leaning his head briefly on Josh’s shoulder.

“Who’s Y/N’s celebrity crush? Slash hall pass?”

“Jeff,” David jokes, turning to me.

“Stop,” I groan, flopping against the couch. “I hate this joke. It was a year ago!” David laughs at me, then composes his face as he stares into space to think for a second.

“Um– what’s his name– Noah something? Noah Centineo?”

I blow him a kiss. “Good guess, but no cigar, baby boy.”

David groans, then looks to Josh. “Who was it?”

“Harry Styles,” Josh tells him, pretending to look sad for him. David starts banging his head against the soft back of the couch.

“Stupid! Fuck!” he yells. “I knew that!”

Josh starts to ask me the next question before David stands up and throws a burst of dabs all in a row before sticking a whip at the end, hyping himself up. “Can’t! Miss! Another! Question!” he yells.

“Y/N, where did you and David first kiss?”

I smile, beginning to blush, and I watch David and his expression becomes almost the same, his cheeks flushing pink as he waits for me to answer.

“James Charles’ Tesla,” I whisper, almost not in the room because I’m remembering.

“It’s him,” Corinna taps me on the arm. “It’s David.”

“What? Where?” I whip around, almost spilling my drink.

Corinna laughs, but there he is, David Dobrik. There’s almost a glow about him, his big smile and laugh as people perform for his outstretched camera, people orbiting around him. The iPhone flashlight helps, too.

I inhale. “This is stupid. I feel like a dumb fangirl.”

Corinna shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes. “Y/N, it’s not like he doesn’t know who you are. You’ve been talking, he’s not just gonna not realize you’re here or not recognize you. You have green hair.”

I chew on my lip, still watching him. “You have a point.”

After a few moments, David stops recording. The flashlight is turned off. The people that have been clinging to his side starts to dissipate, and then he’s not David Dobrik. He’s just David.

“Okay,” I tell Corinna, downing the rest of my drink. “Fuck it.”

“Whoa, whoa,” she says, a bit of panic in her voice, catching my arm. “You sure you don’t want to make him come to you? Play hard to get?”

I pause, glancing at him. He still hasn’t realized I’m here. “Should I? I don’t really have the patience for that.”

“Y/N!”

I turn at the loud voice, and there’s James, a big smile on him as he comes toward us.

“James, thank you so much for having us,” Corinna reaches out to him first, hugging him. She starts gushing about his makeup, and I glance again at David, who has his eyes on me now. He must have heard James shout my name, and is moving through people, his floppy brown hair standing out as he snakes between the bodies.

“Hey,” he says, smiling broadly. “I thought that was you, greenie.”

“Hey,” I say back, smiling up at him, feeling the alcohol rush into a redness on my cheeks. Before I even decide to say it, I’m saying– “You know, you’re cuter than your hilarious DMs would indicate.”

But he leans back in laughter, his smile booming loudly. “I can’t tell if I should be flattered,” he tells me, close now so that I can hear him in the din of the party.

I’d almost forgotten that Corinna was distracting James until a long-nailed hand taps David on the shoulder.

“David!” James interjects, grabbing both of our shoulders. “Do you want to see my Tesla? It’s the new one.”

David’s face drops in total shock. “Yes. Absolutely,” he looks down at me again. “Come on. The new model is super cool.”

We follow James out of the crowded living room, through a side door and down stairs until we’re in a low-ceilinged garage with white walls and fluorescent lighting.

It’s a sleek navy blue, almost black, Tesla model 3.

James makes squealing noises. “And I got a custom license plate, too.”

I look down and see JAMESCH on a plate near the base of the car.

“Holy fuck,” David says, still flabbergasted. I look up at him. One of his hands is in his hair. “James, please let me sit in it.”

“Sure, sister,” James tosses him the keys, and David catches them with one hand. My girl brain makes my knees shiver slightly.

“Get in with me,” David murmurs down to me, still marveling at the car.

I chuckle. “Sure, Dave.”

When we climb into the car, David turns on his camera immediately and points it toward us. “Hi sisters!” he says, doing James’ signature wave.

I laugh, then hold up a peace sign, pretending to pose.

“So we’re in James Charles’ new Tesla Model 3 right now. And it’s– Y/N, what would you say it’s like?”

I raise my eyebrows, acting impressed, looking around the interior of the car. “It’s insane.”

“Insane,” David repeats. “I mean, this awesome screen. Look, he even named it Sistermobile.” David points to the screen behind the wheel. It does, in little white letters, say Sistermobile.

I laugh, leaning on the console to see. “I guess he has to stay on brand.”

He tilts the camera so it’s just pointing at me. “Plus, it comes with a hot girl.”

I laugh again, even harder, though I melt on the inside. “That’s absolutely right. I was designed by Elon Musk to work as a functioning backseat driver to go with every Tesla vehicle.”

He laughs, makes one or two more jokes, and then switches off the camera. “Where did they go?”

I look up. He’s right– we’re alone in the garage. James and Corinna are gone.

I turn back to face him. “Just us, I guess.”

“Finally.” He breaks into a big smile.

I mock a guffaw, leaning on the console. “Have you been wanting to get me alone, David Dobrik?”

“Absolutely.”

He’s leaning on the console now, too, his breath starting to fan across my face. I look up at him through my lashes. My blood feels like it’s beating inside my cheeks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have ulterior motives.” It doesn’t come out as confident as I want it to.

He giggles slightly, and I can really feel it on my skin. I can feel the vibration of his words as he says, “Like what?”

He can’t stop looking at my lips, and I don’t think I can, either. “You tell me, you’re the one who obviously has them.”

“Let me think.”

I wait for his eyes to flicker down to my parted lips one more time, and then I close the distance between us. His mouth is warm and soft, and I quickly feel all my breath leaving me. Then his hand is in my hair, and his lip is between my teeth, and all too soon, the Tesla begins to honk.

We look up to see James holding the keys, standing with a hand on his hip, the sleeves of his SISTERS hoodie bunched up around his forearms.

David smiles. “That was a really nice moment.”

“Hey, David?” Josh turns to him, smiling. “What’s Y/N’s favorite movie?”

David claps his hands triumphantly. “Easy. Mr. & Mrs. Smith.”

I soften. “Aw, baby.”

He leans forward to look at me. “I know you, babygirl.”

“He knows you, babygirl,” Josh mimics, staring me down. “But it’s time for our lightning round.”

I lean forward, looking directly into the camera, totally focused. Out of the corner of my eye, I see David copy me, and I smirk a little.

“Y/N– David’s favorite salad dressing?”

“Ranch.” Next to Josh, David does a little yes, baby.

“Yes. David– Y/N’s favorite dessert?”

“Cheesecake.”

“Y/N– David would want Shawn Mendes or even more Shawn Mendes.”

I laugh. “More Shawn.”

David laughs, his voice thin and high. “I love him.”

“David– what bothers Y/N the most about your relationship?”

David throws up his hands, and at first, I panic. I almost hadn’t let Josh ask the question.

He surprises me. “This is so easy,” David looks at me, gesturing, completely forgetting that we were in a lightning round, clearly settling into a long answer. “So, Y/N is from California, and I’m from the Midwest, and for college she went to– you went to Iowa– Iowa?”

“Iowa City? The University of Iowa?” I fill in, unsure where he’s going.

“Yeah, the University of Iowa. Which is, like, the rival school of ISU, where I almost went. So, if I had gone to ISU, we would have been in the same state, and Iowa City, where Y/N went to school, is sort of, like, the place to be if you want to party,” David explains.

“A lot of frats,” I add, heartwarmed, realizing what he’s saying.

“So, if I’d decided to go to college at ISU, we totally could have met,” he makes eye contact with me. “And she hates thinking about that. She hates that we could have met earlier and we didn’t.”

I look at Josh, who looks almost as heartwarmed as I do. “So you guys were totally fated. One way or the other, you were gonna end up together.”

“No, actually, I made sure we ended up together,” I joke. “I moved to LA so I could find him and make him fall in love with me.”

Josh laughs, but David raises his eyebrows. “That’s not too far off, babe.” I slap his arm.

Josh guffaws a little, still thinking about the story. “You know, that’s not actually what she said, but that’s really–”

“Wait, what?” David looks at me, bewildered. “That’s not what you said?”

“No,” I laugh, covering my face. “I don’t want to say it now.”

David grabs my shoulder in mock anger. “Tell me!”

I giggle more and more, hardly able to talk. “It was– that– you don’t–”

David gives me a look, realizing what I mean. “That I always wear a condom?”

I nod, dying laughing. Josh looks incredibly uncomfortable again.

“I hate you.” David stands up, pretending to walk out of the room. I fall off the couch.

Josh turns to me, still laughing on the floor, then to David as he sits back down. “Why does he wear a condom? Why do you wear a condom?”

“To be fucking safe!”

I wheeze, sitting back up next to Josh. “For the record,” I look into the camera. “I am not trying to get pregnant so I can steal all of David’s money.”

“Sure, babe,” David interrupts, rolling his eyes and then flashing a big smile as we all laugh.

When we finished filming, Paige comes out with a sleeping Max and, smiling, says that we should probably go, so he can sleep. Whispering, we agree, and tiptoe over to Max to kiss him lightly on the forehead. David almost gets too distracted, his hands wandering to Max’s little socked feet, but I curl my hands around his waist and jostle him gently.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he whispers. “Just can’t get over him.”

“I need some alone time with Uncle David,” I whisper into his neck, a bit lower, just for him. Paige stifles a laugh as David whips immediately to me, drawn.

That’s mostly it. We whisper goodbye to Josh, hug Jason in the street. He gets into his car, and we get into David’s. I turn to him as the Tesla turns on, his left hand on the wheel and the right on my thigh, as usual.

“It’s really sweet that you remember that.”

“What? The Iowa thing?”

“Yeah.” I wrap my hands around his, interlacing our fingers.

He squeezes my hand, but gives me a sort of of-course-I-remember look.

“Of course I remember,” he tells me, pushing some of his curls out of his face. “You’ve talked about it enough that it would be bad if I didn’t.”

“Do you wish that was how we’d met? In Iowa? I feel weird that I don’t know, even though we’ve already talked about it.”

David sucks his teeth, thinking about his answer as he looks down at the backup camera. “Is it bad if I say no?”

I guffaw playfully. “Yes!”

“No, no, wait,” he backpedals. “Think about it. I would’ve been back and forth all the time, since you can’t drive, and that would have gotten super annoying for both of us. And having classes. And we would have been totally different people. What if Old David and Old Y/N didn’t like each other?”

I shiver. “I think about that sometimes. How we might not have fallen in love if we’d met at any other time.”

He squeezes my hand again. “Don’t think about it, love.”

He starts to pull his hand away, beginning to back out of his parking space, but I catch it before he can bring it to the wheel. He looks up at me expectantly, so I lean over the console and kiss him. His hand comes off the wheel to hold my face to his, while I loop my fingers into his shirt collar to bring him closer.

When he pulls away, my head spins. I feel like a teenager. I blink hard, and he chuckles at me.

“You’re so amazing,” he says softly, his thumb on my cheek. “My perfect girl.”

I tighten my grip on his shirt and pull him into me again.

When he pulls into his driveway, the lights are already on inside, and we can plainly see Natalie moving around in the living room, even from inside the Tesla. My mind immediately deflates from the somewhat flirty car ride over, his hand having teased my thigh the whole way. David sighs, mirroring my thoughts.

“I don’t want to have to talk to Natalie,” he mumbles.

“Neither do I,” I admit, looking at him. “Sorry, Natalie.”

“Can I– can I just–” I wait for him to finish, but instead he unbuckles his seatbelt and leans over the console to kiss me again, his hand crunching a fistful of my hair as he holds my lips to his. He breathes heavily into it, and I smirk slightly. I love the effect I have on him.

So I toe off my shoes and gracefully climb into his lap. His breath is against my mouth, my hands holding myself up by his chest. His hands move down, and start to slip up into my shorts. My mouth is on his neck then, biting and sucking under his ear and jaw.

“Y/N, no. You know the rules,” he scolds me, pulling me back lightly by my hair. He doesn’t let me leave marks on him.

But instead, I ignore him, leaning forward to nip into his jugular again.

“Y/N–“ He wants to scold me again, I can tell, but he’s hardening and moaning beneath me, so I don’t stop.

After a moment, he brings his hand up to my throat and pushes me away until I’m against the steering wheel. I arch, reaching up to hold his hand in place.

“You’re not listening tonight.”

I whine in response, needy, grinding my hips against his. “Baby,” I beg.

“What is it?” his fingers tighten around my throat.

“Please,” I wheeze, my eyes fogging looking at his smirk.

“Please, what?”

I hum out a whine again, because I don’t know what I’m asking for. I let my tongue fall out of my open mouth, and then his fingers are off my throat and buried into my mouth.

“God, your fucking mouth, Y/N. Your mouth.” It’s his turn to moan now, as I run my tongue over his fingers.

“Do you want my mouth?” I whisper to him, leaning forward to press my lips against his ear.

“No,” he tells me bluntly. “Take off your fucking hoodie.”

I wiggle to sit facing away from him, and swivel my hips as I pull the hoodie over my head and leave my shorts in a pile next to the brake.

He grips my ass as I raise to straddle him again, but he’s pushing me forward, bending me over the wheel and pulling me apart with his thumbs.

“Fuck,” he praises, still holding my pussy open for him to admire, and then his fingers are deep inside me, curling and writhing.

“David!” I call back to him, feeling him screwing with my soft g-spot. I’m about to start fucking myself on his fingers when his mouth is wrapped around my clit.

I yelp in surprise. He sucks and licks as he fingers my g-spot and kneads my ass.

“David– David–” I moan out. He smiles against me, biting my clit lightly before he starts to suck and lick it in earnest, a pearl of flavor he’s been craving.

The pleasure shoots through me like daggers. It’s winding and twisting like roots, radiating from where David’s mouth moves hungrier and hungrier against me.

I’m about to cum when he stops. I whip around angrily, when I see him leaning his chair back as far as it will go.

He pulls on my thighs. “Bring it to me.”

I almost don’t know what he means, but then I realize that he can’t look at me, that his eyes are trained on my dripping pussy, his tongue out of his mouth.

I smirk and reach down to recline his seat the rest of the way.

My breath comes out in pants, in the passenger side now with my legs draped over him, completely naked. David’s cock is partially exposed, him panting too, his hoodie discarded in the backseat.

“That was incredible,” he wheezes.

I poke him with my toe. My skin in covered in a sheen of sweat. “One of our best.”

“We’re gonna end up telling our grandchildren about that.”

“Christ, that’s gross.”

David laughs, then turns his head to look at me. He has serious sex hair. “Hey. Come here.”

“I just ‘come here’-ed for about twenty-five minutes.”

He makes a kissy face, so I lean forward and let my lips touch his.

It’s incredibly chaste, even with my lack of clothes and David’s cock so close to me. They’re little pecks, loving and clean and innocent.

“David,” I say, leaning my forehead against his. “I love you.”

His hand comes up to my neck, holding me in place. “I love you more.”

[juniperwindsong]

Necessary Monsters (8/16)

Warning: this chapter will contain M rated themes including alcohol abuse, sexual situations, and some iffy decisions that I'd like to make clear I do not condone. PLEASE NOTE that just because characters act a certain way does not mean I agree with their actions. While I have refrained from including any smut out of respect for people who don't care for that sort of thing, I did write it. So the explicit version of a certain scene from this chapter can be found in my new story, Advanced Dragonology, which is where I'll be sticking all the smutty excerpts I'm not including in the story proper to keep it from being NSFW. It is posted only on A03 here or Wattpad here in order to comply with Tumblr’s content agreements.

Summary: "That was..." "Unexpected?" "Very." "So, does that prove this is real?" "If I say no, will you do that again?"

Proper socialisation is an essential part of a pureblood upbringing, so in his first seventeen years Felix has attended what he considers an excessive number of parties. Which is why it doesn't occur to him to be nervous until he steps up the squat house's ramshackle walk and realises he has never attended this sort of party: a gathering thrown by young people for young people, specifically for the purpose of "having fun". Although, wincing at the loud thumps of what he can only assume is intended to be music, Felix wonders exactly whose idea of "fun" this could possibly be.

The front door is slightly ajar; lucky, since he doubts anyone could hear a bell over all the noise. There's no host to greet him or make the necessary introductions, so Felix is left to stand awkwardly just inside the run-down east end townhouse, hands stuffed in his pockets and feeling entirely out of his depth.

A quick glance around at the crowd of milling teenagers informs Felix he isn't dressed appropriately. Exceptionally casual muggle attire appears to be the evening's dress code from what he's able to make out. Darkness also seems to be the fashion at this sort of party. There's hardly a candle to be seen anywhere, most of the light coming from a single flickering floor lamp tucked into a corner. There's a thin cord trailing from its base into the wall, and Felix remembers this from Muggle Studies as a tell-tale sign of a muggle invention. He puts two and two together, and his eyes widen in panic.

This is a muggle house; a muggle party. What on earth would Juniper and her friends be doing here? Tonks must have given him this address as a joke.

Fumbling behind him for the doorknob, Felix is just considering what sort of retribution would be fitting for the idiotic Hufflepuff, when a sudden outburst of applause draws his gaze to the corner of the packed room. Half a dozen teenagers are clustered around one garishly-dressed person and Felix's eyes narrow as he recognises the spiky pink hair. Tonks, grinning toothily, throws a jacket over her head then sweeps it off with a flourish, revealing hair, still short and spiky, but now electric blue. Another round of cheering and clapping from the spectators, and Tonks takes a dramatic bow, tripping over her own boot-laces. Felix can only stare, indignation flagging in the face of his open shock.

"Never seen a metamorphmagus before?" says a voice near his ear.

Tulip Karasu appears just beside Felix's elbow, leaning in uncomfortably close to be heard over the din. She's wearing muggle clothes as well, and considerably few, at that, but it's hardly the most concerning thing to Felix at the moment.

"I've never seen a metamorphmagus reveal herself in front of a whole pack of muggles, on purpose and in direct violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, no," he retorts waspishly. His voice is almost lost in the room's overbearing babble, but Tulip seems to understand the gist at any rate. She shakes her head with a wry smile.

"They're her cousins, or something. Her father's muggle-born," she says loudly into his ear again. "Besides, muggles don't believe in magic. Tonks could turn herself into a bear right there in front of them, and they'd still say it was a trick. It's fantastic."

Tulip glances around Felix.

"The rest of the entourage with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," Tulip shrugs a shoulder. "Rowan Khanna...Penny Haywood."

It's painfully obvious, even in the dim light, that Tulip's nonchalant attitude is all a show, but whatever's happening between the tiny Ravenclaw girl and her Hufflepuff counterpart does not interest Felix in the slightest.

"No. I came alone. To see Juniper." Felix's brow furrows suddenly. "Please tell me she's not outside showing off her Comet 260 or something?"

Tulip's enigmatic smile sours slightly.

"Don't worry. Everyone's favorite curse-breaker is currently getting soused in the kitchen. Drinking contest, I think." Misinterpreting Felix's expression, she adds, "Don't worry. She always wins. Always wins everything, doesn't she?" And she saunters off in Tonks' direction without further comment.

-

It takes Felix several minutes to navigate the dark, over-crowded hallway and locate the dingy kitchen. He's relieved to find it more brightly lit then the rest of the house, and slightly quieter. A linoleum table takes up most of the room, covered in plastic cups full of unidentifiable liquids. A long bench set into the wall lines one side of the table, and at its end sits a girl with curled hair sipping through a plastic straw directly from a sloshing pitcher. A group of mostly male on-lookers eggs her on, giving a raucous cheer when she finishes. The girl pushes the empty pitcher away from her with a cry of triumph, and it isn't until she looks up that Felix is positive it's Juniper.

"Felix?"

He can't quite hear her over the continued cheering, but he recognises his name on her lips, painted an unlikely shade of electric pink. She's smiling, which might have been a good sign if it didn't seem so vacant, and she gestures at him wildly with a wrist full of clinking bracelets. Juniper's fans all turn to see who's captured her attention, and Felix pushes through them primly, seating himself next to Juniper, rather closer than strictly necessary. He shoots his patented prefect's glare at the gaggle of boys, most of whom take the hint and sidle away.

If Juniper notices her audience disperse, she doesn't show it. She hooks her wrist around a plastic cup and pulls it toward her. She plucks the straw from the pitcher with two fingers, and Felix is pleased to see her grip last long enough to drop the straw into the cup, before leaning down and chugging the drink nearly in one gulp.

When she finally comes up for air, Felix leans in close to her ear.

"Can we talk?"

Juniper turns so their faces are suddenly very close.

"I doubt it. It's quite loud in here." She smiles lop-sidedly, but her eyes are still dark and dead-looking underneath a thick layer of blue powder.

"Then, let's go somewhere else," urges Felix. Juniper shakes her head.

"Half the reason I come to these things is specifically because it's too loud to talk," and Felix has no counter-argument for that.

Juniper drags another cup across the table and leaves it in front of Felix, then pulls a third toward herself and inserts her straw once more. At a loss for anything else to do, Felix lifts the drink to his lips, but he can only take a small sip before returning it to the table in disgust. He swallows hard, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste.

Next to him, Juniper smirks. It's a nasty expression when combined with her empty-looking eyes. She dunks her straw into Felix's abandoned cup and leans over it. The drink hadn't tasted exceptionally strong to Felix, just rancid, but three plus a pitcher in less than five minutes seems dangerous. He's about to voice his concern when Juniper looks up.

"But would you like to dance?"

"What?"

Juniper nods at the dark room just beyond. It's full of people clumped together in groups and pairs, and Felix stares helplessly at the mass of bodies, their movements hardly recognisable as dancing. Even if he had the inclination to join them, he wouldn't have the first idea how to mimic them.

"I - I don't...really...I mean - that's not - "

"Suit yourself," Juniper interrupts with a shrug. She has to climb across him to exit the bench, using his shoulder for support, and once again Felix's entire attention is devoted to the sight of Juniper's legs, now covered only in black stockings. Not the kind worn with school uniforms, but the sort full of large, criss-crossing holes, like netting.

Without sparing a backward glance at Felix, Juniper joins a small cluster of girls just inside the other room, all moving in time with the thudding beat, arms rising and falling, close but not quite touching. Perhaps it's the current lack of blood in his brain, but Felix can suddenly see the appeal of the movements, clearly designed to call attention to certain parts of the body, and for the remainder of the song he's caught up in enjoying the sight. Juniper is smiling, and from here he can't see the haunted look in her eyes, and he can pretend it's the Juniper he knows, enjoying herself with friends like there's nothing wrong at all. Until the music changes seamlessly into a song with a more intense rhythm, and several young men take this as an invitation to join Juniper's group. Far from looking harassed, the girls seem to enjoy the company.

One particular boy positions himself just behind Juniper; far, far too close for Felix's liking. He runs distracted fingers through his hair, that primal call to action he associates with danger to Juniper tugging at him furiously, demanding he intervene. He contemplates whether a banishing charm might go unnoticed in the dark, or a stunning spell. He's just considering whether a Bat Bogey hex is too much, when the boy's hands are suddenly on Juniper's waist, guiding her back against him, and a mad rage erupts in Felix like he's never known. He stands, unsure what he's going to do but determined to do something, and his sudden, sharp movement knocks drinks from the table. In the split second he looks away to inspect the spill, there's a small bang, then a loud scream, and when Felix's head whips back round, the young man is on the floor.

The song plays on like nothing has happened, but the dancers around them have all stopped and stepped back, their collective whispers carrying over the music like rushing water. Juniper's chest is heaving, her head flicking warily from side to side. She reminds Felix of a cornered Vipertooth, evaluating its enemies, searching frantically for an escape route, and something about the comparison and the adrenaline still coursing through him activates his instincts. He crosses the room determinedly, grips Juniper by the elbow and pulls her out of the sea of muttering on-lookers, back through the kitchen, and out a door he hopes is an exit.

The warm night air hits him in the face as they step into the narrow alley between this house and the next, mercifully empty except for rubbish bins. Juniper rips her arm from Felix and totters a few steps away. She leans against the brick of the building, hands over her face, still breathing heavily.

"What happened?" asks Felix, voice calm in the way it always manages to be when he's focused.

"I didn't mean to. It - it just...happens sometimes."

"What did you do to him?"

"Just the Knock-Back jinx. I think."

Felix raises a curious eyebrow. "You can use your wand, now?"

Juniper shakes her head behind her hands. "No. Like I said, it just happens. I can't control it. It's like - being a little kid again, when you're angry and the magic just - just comes out." There's panic or hysteria at the back of her voice, and Felix reaches for his most soothing tones.

'It's alright. I doubt anyone saw you. And you're over seventeen, you don't have the trace on you anymore. You're not in trouble."

Dropping her hands, Juniper stares at Felix and the ice in her eyes make him shiver.

"What would they do, anyway? Snap my wand?" She tries to laugh, but it becomes a dry heave. Nerves begin to threaten Felix's composure.

"Juniper," he takes a step toward her, cautious as if she were an injured dragon. "Why don't you let me take you -" But Felix stops, unsure how to finish. Now he thinks about it, he isn't sure where to take her. The same idea occurs to Juniper.

"Where? To Tulip's house? She'd love that. Her parents don't even know she's gone. And I doubt anyone's been in my family's house in years. Unless maybe Jacob's camped out there." She forces another bitter laugh, clutching her stomach tightly.

"What about Khanna's place, then?" Felix suggests, when inspiration strikes him. "Or Hogwarts! Dumbledore won't mind, I'm sure of it. He's worried about you. Everyone is."

Somehow, this is the wrong thing to say. Juniper snorts, and tries to stand up straighter against the brick wall, an echo of anger flaring up behind her dark eyes.

"No. I'm not going back there. You know they're only worried about me because I'm the Cursebreaker." She pronounces the word like some vile epithet. "You think if they didn't need me for information or weren't worried I might turn out like my brother, they'd care about me at all? Dumbledore or Snape or the aurors? They don't worry about anyone else's safety! They don't keep tabs on Beatrice or any of the other students who've been hurt at the school. It's because they need me to take care of everything for them. That's the only thing I'm good for." Juniper wipes at her eyes viciously with the heel of her hand, smearing blue and black lines across her face. "And I can't even do that now, so, really, I don't matter at all, do I?

Felix shakes his head slowly, taken aback by this heated rant.

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is!" insists Juniper doggedly, wrapping her arms about herself as if the night were cold.

"That's not why I'm here," Felix argues, but Juniper only rolls her eyes.

"You're here because they sent you. If you're really here at all. This whole thing could just be some awful dream." Her words dissolve into a groan, and she slides down the bricks to the ground, arms clenched around her knees. Felix watches her in mounting frustration.

"Juniper, do you realise I left my job to be here? Without permission, without telling anyone. Probably, I'll end up sacked when they notice I'm gone, but I came anyway. Because I care more about you. And you know that I never cared about cursed vaults. I always wished you weren't so wrapped up in curse-breaking. I'm not here to help anyone use you for all that rubbish. I'm here to help you."

Juniper looks up at him, eyes still empty but her mouth trembling slightly. "I don't need help," she says stubbornly. Then she turns and heaves against the side of the building.

It's lucky, thinks Felix vaguely as he kneels next to her, that none of this happened three years ago, before he spent time in the wild. He can only imagine how he would have reacted to a girl vomiting in front of him when he was still at school. But Peruvian Vipertooth venom leaves one exceptionally ill, even after taking the cure, and Felix has spent more than his share of days sick as a pig, waiting for the toxin to leave his body. He's helped others on his expedition team, as well, so he lets practice take over, gathering Juniper's hair back for her and producing a handkerchief from the tip of his wand. Felix waits for the contractions in her stomach to subside, wishing uselessly that one of the bins next to them would suddenly turn into a dragon, maw open and flames spitting. Because that's more the sort of monster he'd prefer to rescue her from.

After a few minutes, Juniper climbs shakily to her feet. Felix takes her arm to help her, but she pulls away, letting the brick wall support her weight.

"I'm fine," she mumbles, wiping her hand across her mouth with a grimace. And Felix's temper, so patiently tamed throughout this entire bloody evening, flares unexpectedly.

"Are you physically incapable of saying anything else?" His sudden shout makes Juniper wince. "Juniper: You're. Not. Fine. And the only person who expects you to be is you. And pretending like you are isn't helping you or anybody else. Now, I can't make you let me help you - and you can carry on acting like a bloody idiot if that's really what you want - but you'll have to put up with me following you about everywhere because I'm not going to let this go."

Felix stops, panting slightly. He pushes back a bit of hair that's fallen into his eye. His anger now vented, he feels like a prat for shouting. He knows being angry at Juniper, so obviously irrational, won't solve anything, and he waits for her bitter retort or angry retreat. But Juniper only shakes her head, eyes still closed, and it isn't until tears leak from under her eyelids that Felix recognises her shaking as silent sobs.

"Juniper," he steps forward and reaches carefully for her, and for once, Juniper doesn't pull away. She leans into him, arms trapped against his chest, and buries her face in his shoulder. Felix can feel her crying quietly. "Juniper, I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"No," she interjects, voice muffled against his robes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Felix, I - I'm a mess, I know it. I'm such a mess right now. Everything's just - wrong, and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know why I'm like this right now. I don't know - how I feel or - or anything, and I'm - I'm so sorry."

Felix lets her cry, stroking a cautious hand across her hair. Tentative relief trickles through his veins, giddy and intoxicating, but a part of him can't help feeling ultimately disappointed. Supporting a crying, hopeless Juniper is far less romantic in real life than in his fantasy.

"Come on," he says quietly once her shaking has mostly subsided. "Let's get you out of here."

Juniper lifts her head from his shoulder and dabs at her eyes. "I can't apparate," she admits. Her face is too red and blotchy to tell if the confession embarrasses her.

"We can take the Knight bus. I've never actually ridden it before, but I think-"

"No!" Juniper shakes her head frantically, her curls coming unpinned. "No, please - I don't want anyone to see me like this. It'll be in the papers, for sure. That Skeeter woman's been sniffing around me all summer."

Her voice quavers again, and Felix wraps one arm tightly about her shoulder, pulling her against him to support her weight.

"Alright, alright," he reassures her, coaxing her feet forward. "We'll think of something else." They shuffle awkwardly out of the alley. "Aren't there muggle motors that take people places? Can't remember what they're called. Not buses."

"You mean a taxicab?"

"That's it." They turn onto a road lined with houses, but no motors. Felix guides her down the walk in the direction of city lights.

"How do you know about taxicabs?" Juniper asks between sniffles.

"Muggle studies," Felix admits. "You need at least an OWL in the class to work at the Ministry."

They have to walk another block before they reach a street full of lit shops and the occasional passing motor. Felix flings out an arm and one screeches to a halt. He fumbles with the handle on the door, struggling with the mechanism until the exasperated driver climbs out to assist him, mumbling about drunks. The man eyes Juniper suspiciously as she clambers into the back of the motor, giggling through scattered hiccoughs.

"Where are we going?" she mumbles as she leans back against the plastic covered seats. Felix climbs in next to her, eyeing the inside of the car dubiously.

"The Leaky Cauldon," he says as the driver returns to the front. The man glares at Felix from his little mounted mirror.

"You off your face?"

-

"Do you know, I've never actually been in the Leaky Cauldron before. Except in passing," remarks Juniper. She inspects the shabby room from her seat near the fireplace, lit in spite of the warm summer night. "It's nice."

"It's alright," shrugs Felix. He wishes he had somewhere more impressive to take her, but his room at the Leaky Cauldron is the only place he could think of where Juniper would both be safe and where they might have an uninterrupted conversation. After washing the vomit, tears, and smeared makeup from her face and having a quiet sit by the fire, Juniper seems in strangely serene spirits, and Felix sits across her nervously, wondering how to broach his desired topic.

"You stay here often?" inquires Juniper politely.

"When I'm in England."

She cocks her head curiously. "Why don't you stay at home?"

"I'm not currently welcome there. Not until I'm ready to 'give up this ridiculous dragon nonsense and return to my family obligations,'" Felix quotes wryly, but Juniper doesn't smile.

"I'm sorry."

Felix shrugs her sympathy away. Silence ticks between them again, and Juniper settles deeper into the winged armchair, closing her eyes. With her elaborate makeup gone, Felix thinks she looks pale again. Her hair has come out of it's pins, and something about the way the new length frames her face makes it seem thinner.

"Why did you cut your hair?" he asks.

Juniper sighs. She opens her eyes, but keeps her gaze firmly on the fire. Her fingers fiddle absently with her fallen curls.

"Sometimes, I sort of...space out. I feel like I'm back there - like it's happening to me again."

"I thought you said you couldn't remember what happened," Felix interjects sharply.

"I can't," Juniper confirms. "Not fully. Not like a story I could tell. It's just...bits and pieces. And they sort of...pop into my head sometimes when I'm not expecting. Or I have nightmares - I don't even know if they're about what really happened or if they're just my imagination - but I wake up and I...I don't know if I'm awake." She shudders. "That's the worst. Not knowing what's real. Not trusting myself. I thought - I don't know - I thought...if something were different about me - like my hair - then... maybe, it would be easier to tell the difference between the past and the present. Does that makes sense?"

"Sort of," Felix agrees vaguely, although he's not at all sure it does. "Does it work?"

"No." Juniper shakes her head. "Not when I need it to, anyway. The whole world just feels so...unreal sometimes. Like, for all I know I'm dreaming, and maybe I just cut my hair in my dream." She sighs heavily, and rubs the heels of her hands against her eyes as if they ache. "Maybe all of this is just a dream."

Worry crawls up Felix's spine. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, maybe I am cursed." Juniper pushes off from her chair and sidles to the window, arms clasped about herself. "Maybe I'm still in hospital and none of this is really happening."

"Juniper," Felix says firmly, trying to call her attention back to him. "You know this is real."

She shakes her head, back still turned.

"I don't know. I don't know what's happening with me. I just feel so..." She leans her forehead against the glass. "I don't know what I feel."

Felix stands, one hand rubbing nervously at the scar across his neck, entirely unsure how to approach this strange admission.

"I think...that's probably normal. Considering," he offers carefully.

"Not for me," argues Juniper, turning from the window and raking her fingers through her hair. "I'm scared all the time. I never used to be scared of anything, and now...I jump at shadows or sudden movement or people touching me unexpectedly." She pushes off from the sill and paces the room in quick steps. "It's like it is in a duel. You know that feeling? When you're dueling someone and your whole body is just ready...ready for action, ready to dodge a spell or attack. All tense, and defensive. But it's like that all the time. I can't shut it off, and it's...exhausting."

On the last word, Juniper leans back against a bed post. "Even when I sleep I have these awful nightmares and I'm more tired when I wake up then I was before. I know it's making me mad. I watch myself acting mad and stupid, and saying these horrid things to people. To my friends. Maybe I have gone mad." She lets her head loll back against the wooden post. Felix approaches her tentatively.

"I think, if you can be worried that you're mad, then you're probably not." He says reassuringly.

"I don't know. None of this seems very likely, does it?"

"None of what?"

"All this? You?" Juniper lifts her head to look at him, gesturing vaguely about the room. "Why would you be here when you're supposed to be Romania. That's not rational, is it? Probably you're just a visual representation of my conscience or better sense or something." She chuffs a mirthless laugh.

"I'm here because I was worried about you," Felix reminds her.

"But isn't that exactly what you'd say if I made you up in my head?" she retorts.

There's something about this abstract train of thought that irritates Felix. It's irrational, which means it isn't an argument he can win with facts. But she's finally talking, perhaps more than she's talked to anyone since the attack, and he's afraid to say anything that might shut her off again.

"So, how can I prove that this is real?" he asks, hiding his frustration. Juniper shrugs listlessly.

"I don't know. Say something...unexpected. Something I couldn't make up."

Felix wants to laugh, wildly. He's full to bursting with things he's never said to her that he's dying to say: that he loves her, that he's never really loved anyone but her, that he'll do anything to make her better again. He screams the words in his head, as if she might hear them if he just thinks loud enough, but he can't force his mouth to speak.

Instead, he takes her face in his hands and kisses her soundly.

A/N If you want the explicit version of this next scene, visit one of the links above, but be sure to return for the end.

It's in no way the perfect first kiss Felix has fantasized about: full of sparks and unspoken declarations of love. Juniper isn't expecting it, so her mouth isn't ready and their teeth clash. A few seconds of decidedly unromantic fumbling, and he pulls away to inspect her reaction.

Juniper's eyes are wide in surprise, but for the first time that day, there's a light behind them Felix recognises. She doesn't move, only stares. She wets her lips, shoulders heaving with the force of her shaky breath.

"That was..."

"Unexpected?" Felix provides when she cannot find the word.

Juniper nods, smiling faintly. "Very." And it's her smile. Her real smile. And her eyes. And the relief is a rush almost as heady as his proximity to her body. Felix's smile in return is small but genuine as he asks softly:

"So...does that prove this is real?"

Juniper meets his eyes the way she always has, quietly confident and determined to get what she wants.

"If I say no, will you do that again?"

This time, it's exactly how he pictured. Juniper's lips are so soft against his, they're almost insubstantial. She pauses after each long, light kiss, lips lingering on his mouth for a moment as if to savor it.

War rages in Felix as he tries to keep himself calm. Somewhere underneath the excitement and relief and joy of finally getting what he's wanted for so long, there's nagging doubts over whether this is really a good idea. But the need for more is stronger. He slides his hands into her hair, pulling her face closer to his to deepen their kiss. There's no resistance. Juniper softens against him, opening her mouth to let him explore. She presses her trembling hands against his shoulders, steadying herself against the onslaught. It's minutes before they break apart for air, still clinging to each other.

Felix wonders if its possible to get drunk from the alcohol in someone else's mouth. It's what she tastes like, and it leaves him heady and unbalanced. It's not at all what he imagined, but what with her has ever been?

Juniper's eyes are glassy as she stares transfixed at his lips, and Felix has to fight a primal urge to press her hips as tightly against his as he can. Some voice at the back of his head is warning him to stop, now, before things go too far. He opens his mouth to find a way to tell her, when Juniper bites the corner of her lip and the words evaporate. Felix grips her waist until she's flush against him, the way he's wanted to do since he saw her at that Quidditch match months ago. She's on her toes to make her body line up exactly with his, and the pressure against his trousers drives him mad.

It's really only minutes, but Felix isn't aware of time as he explores her body. It's another thing he's never managed to picture correctly, but it's better than he dreamed. So focused on feeling everything, Felix doesn't notice when Juniper move her hands until they're against skin. His skin. His shirt is untucked from his trousers, and her fingers slide under the waistband and there's another rush of blood and his mouth is suddenly dry.

We can't, thinks Felix automatically as Juniper's fingers trail across his lower belly, tracing the light outline of muscle. But is there a reason? Or is it only because it isn't usually done this way? There's dates, time spent, he thinks frantically, you have to earn the right. But Juniper never does anything the regular way. And haven't the best parts of his life always started with her dragging him along somewhere unexpected? Then her hands stroke across his hip bones, and Felix's body makes the decision for him.

His hands creep up her legs, where there's more muscle than he expected, and Felix wants to take time to explore them more thoroughly but he isn't in charge of his movements anymore. His fingers are just there when Juniper jerks, and this time her gasp isn't quite the same. There's something less pleasant in it, and Felix's skin turns cold as he pulls his hand back, unable to meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't-"

She stifles his apology with her lips, kissing him with new furvour as she fumbles for his wrist, pulling his hand back into place.

"It's good," she murmurs against his mouth. "So good, I've just...I've never actually done...this before."

How hasn't he thought of that? Felix cringes with shame. Perhaps because Juniper was dating Barnaby at the same time he was with Aurelie and so he'd just assumed all relationships follow the same natural progression. True, she and Barnaby were still in school, but that hardly means anything. School can't have changed that much since he left, and students were always finding ways to do this in spite of their prefects' best efforts. It never even occurred to Felix to hope that Barnaby hadn't had her first, he simply chose to overlook that fact in all his fantasies of her. The sudden knowledge that he might be the first, perhaps the only person, to touch Juniper like this is both elating and terrifying.

Felix is suddenly acutely aware of the rickety iron bed, and the peeling paint, and the raucous sounds from the pub below. This isn't romantic. There's nothing about this room or this situation that would make for a beautiful memory. He might be able to see past that, but this is more than their first time, it's her first time. Felix is sure he doesn't understand what that means for a girl, but he thinks, in general, it's supposed to be better than this.

"Juniper,' he mumbles against her mouth. "This-this isn't right."

"What?" 

Juniper freezes against him. He can feel her frantic heart beat against his chest, and he wraps his arms safely around her waist speaking into her hair.

"I mean...not like this. You're...this...it's supposed to be...perfect," Felix finishes, thankful she can't see how red his face his. He can feel her giggle, causing her body to ripple against him deliciously.

"Perfect? My life is hardly a novel, Felix."

"Special, then," he insists, his lips now pressed against her ear, searching for a safe place to kiss her that won't add any further fuel to the fire already burning through him. But Juniper turns, on her toes again, so she can press her forehead against his and speak directly at his face in a breathless voice

"It is special. I'm with you." Her trembling fingers slide across his cheeks, burying themselves in his hair. "It should be you. I want it to be you."

If Felix kept a diary, he would have accused her of reading it. How else could she know exactly what he's always wanted to hear? He can't suppress a shaky gasp. His lips brush hers as he asks:

"Are you sure?"

Juniper meet his gaze steadily, eyes dark, but a different sort of dark than this morning. There's something on fire behind them as she nods.

"Positive."

And for all the ways this isn’t how he planned, it's still perfect. Because it's her. It's them. The two of them together, finally joined the way they're supposed to be, as close as two people can get.

A short time later, Juniper shifts underneath Felix as their heart rates return to normal, and he rolls to the side to keep from crushing her. He snakes an arm under her to pull her back against him, not wanting to be away from her body for a second. Juniper curls up half beside, half on top of him, and rests her head on his shoulder, eyes closed and smile tired, and Felix realises she must be nearly as exhausted as he is.

"Juniper," he says softly, trying to infuse her name with everything he's feeling. Any other words would surely sound trite in the wake of what they've just done. Her smile widens, though her eyes remain shut.

"Felix," Juniper answers in a voice as full of meaning as his, and Felix sighs, familiar warmth spreading through his chest the way it always does when she says his name. Only now he has brand new memories of the way she can say his name, and he clutches her more tightly against him, satisfied in finally having one dream play out just right.

-

Felix wakes up in little waves. There's soft warmth surrounding him he doesn't understand, until the memory of Juniper from last night returns and he smiles. He reaches out to stroke her hair where it lays pooled on his chest and his hands clench against fabric. He opens his eyes. It's a sheet draped across him. And the bed beside him is empty.

Felix shoots up, instantly alert. A quick scan of the room reveals he's the only one in it. Throwing back the sheet, Felix leaps from the bed and searches the floor for his clothes. He has a vague memory of shedding them somewhere around the bed's foot, but they're nowhere to be found. He swivels around, looking for any kind of clue, and this time notices his robes laid across the chair by the fireplace. Definitely not where he let them drop in a careless heap the night before.

An uncomfortable writhing wakes in Felix's stomach as he tugs on his trousers. This is not how he was hoping this day would begin. He fumbles under his robes for his shirt only to find it isn't there. He barely has time to contemplate this new mystery when the door opens and Juniper enters, a tray with two steaming cups and a plate of scones hovering beside her. She starts upon seeing him, cheeks turning rosy, and Felix realises she's wearing his shirt on top of her skirt and stockings from the night before. The look is less openly suggestive than her sheer blouse, but he finds the sight of her in his clothes impossibly arousing.

Juniper's thoughts seem to be somewhere near his own. She grins sheepishly, still blushing, and turns to push the door closed. The tray makes its own way to the little table near Felix and sets itself down.

"Morning," says Juniper, and her voice is almost bright. So much like what Felix remembers of her, and he wants to laugh and cry at the same time. He settles for smiling at her as she lifts a mug from the tray. It's a beer mug, he notices, the kind with a large handle on the side and she threads her entire hand through it, balancing the other side with her wrist. His smile falters a little.

Juniper plops heavily onto the edge of the bed, curling her legs up underneath her and breathing in steam from the mug. Felix glances wistfully into the remaining cup, a regular tea cup, and entirely bereft of the coffee he craves. Forgoing drink, he sits down carefully beside Juniper, self-consciousness beginning to twist his stomach into knots. There's no reason he shouldn't be allowed to lean across and kiss her, surely? But something about her sipping tea, eyes wandering everywhere but at him reminds him too much of mornings with Aurelie, and the memories play havoc with his confidence.

"How are you feeling?" he asks uncertainly, watching Juniper sip her scalding tea without a wince.

"Honestly?" She ponders this a moment, before replying candidly. "Awful. Absolutely miserable. The worst I've ever felt in my life, I think." She takes another sip of her drink before adding, "But, if I can admit that, then I guess I'm a good sight better than yesterday, right?"

Juniper looks at Felix as if in confirmation, but he isn't sure what to say. His face is blank, an exact match for his current thoughts. Juniper sets her mug carefully onto the floor.

"Had to borrow your shirt, I hope you don't mind," she says, interrupting the awkward silence, and beginning to undo the buttons. "I had to run a quick errand. And I thought Tom might chuck me out if I showed up downstairs like this." She indicates the ridiculously thin and clinging fabric underneath his shirt that served as her blouse from the previous evening.

"Of course not," murmurs Felix. It's a moment before he processes her words, distracted as he is by her new state of undress, but before he can ask any questions, Juniper continues.

"I may need you to conjure something up for me to wear, if you can. I've got a fair bit to do this morning and I can't do it in this. And I don't really carry my wand much anymore," she admits with a small, resigned smile.

This rouses Felix from his stupor. He scoots across the rumpled sheets to sit closer to her.

"Juniper, it's...good that you feel a bit better, but you really shouldn't overdo it. If there's things you need to do, let me take care of it. You need to take it easy for a while. Get back to Khanna's before that Auror - Moody - finds out."

This time, Juniper's smile reaches her eyes. Which still seem tired and sad, but no longer have the terrifying dead look of yesterday.

"Felix," she begins, then shakes her head as if overcome with what she has to say. "You are...extraordinary. But you can't do everything for me. I've got about a dozen apologies I need to make and they need to be done sooner rather than later. Starting with you."

"Me?" Felix raises his eyebrows in surprise. "What for?"

"Everything." Juniper shifts on the lumpy mattress to face Felix more fully. "Ignoring you. Worrying you. Making you come all the way up here. Just being stupid and selfish. You've no idea how embarrassed I am about all this."

"You don't have to be embarrassed," argues Felix, but Juniper interrupts, face screwed up as if in pain.

"I could have cost you your job, Felix!" she exclaims. "You've given up your whole life for this job, and worked so hard, and this is the second time I've almost jeopardised that. But I promise it's the last." She takes a steadying breath and picks at the fabric criss-crossing her legs. "Look, I'm not pretending like - like I'm better or-or back to normal or anything, I know I'm not. I don't even know what normal looks like for me anymore. I'm sure it's not what it used to be. But, I think...I might be past the worst of it now. Entirely because of you." Juniper shoots him a small, embarrassed smile. "I think... I'm thinking more clearly than I have in a while, and I- I know the direction I need to go, even if it's going to take me forever to get there. So you don't have to worry about me anymore. And I- I just need to know that nothing's changed - between us, I mean."

Everything in Felix's chest crumples. His insides sinking toward his feet, leaving his legs heavy and leaden and his head too light. Keeping upright is suddenly the only thing he can concentrate on. Juniper, still looking determinedly at her legs where she's plucked a hole in the fabric of her stockings, notices nothing.

"I know I've still got a long way to go, and I think the only way I can get through it is if I know that you're - that we're - still friends. That I haven't messed that up being...being stupid."

She finally lifts her eyes to peer furtively into his face, and Felix can't imagine what it looks like now, but it feels like it's been turned to stone.

"Of course," he hears himself say, and Juniper sighs, shoulders relaxing in relief.

"I know it doesn't make up for everything I've put you through, but," she fumbles with the waistband of her skirt, retrieving a small slip of parchment. "I've got a portkey all arranged for you. It's set up to leave in an hour, and it'll actually take you inside the Reserve itself. Or it should. I've got it from a, well, a source that owed me a favour, and he's really only semi-reliable at the best of times, but he staked his hoodie on this portkey working, and that's really the highest promise I could wrench from him."

Felix listens to Juniper prattle on without really hearing. At some point, she pauses, and inspects his face more closely.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Felix can't respond. He doesn't feel anything. He feels nothing when they say goodbye, a brief embrace and an awkward smile all Juniper is willing to bestow. Nor when he arrives in Romania, marching straight to the Peruvian Vipertooth grounds to relieve Rashbold, who is fortunately too exhausted to ask many questions. Felix continues to feel nothing as he takes the next shifts, his body going through the familiar motions without the help of any conscious thought. It's only when he returns to his quiet, dusty room, crawls under the tatty sheet of his camp bed, and buries his face in his pillow that tears finally come.

-

Read Chapter 9 |Here’s the link to the Masterpost.

[voidendron]

here's a prompt: "we are NOT gonna do (insert thing here)!" (cut to them doing said thing)

(( ngl seeing this prompt made me snicker. should be fun! ))

A fair, decked out with rides and carnival games and the most unhealthy foods Marvin could imagine, had sprung to life in their city.

He had a feeling Wilford was to blame for all of this. Central’s city never had fairs, and yet here one was. And like any fair, it was crowded as if every citizen of Cents’ city had come out to join the fun. 

Marvin faltered when people brushed too close to him.

A hand squeezed his reassuringly.

“If you wanna head back, we could always just hang out on the balcony,” Jackie offered. Even over the raucous chatter and noises of rides, his voice was soft. 

Marvin shook his head. “Don’t let me ruin your fun.”

An elbow to the ribs followed by the hero’s laughter. “Ruin it? Hey, I’m just happy to be with you. Here or at home, I’m happy.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“And you love me for it~”

Marvin rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile creeping across his face. “Okay, Romeo. If we’re here, may as well enjoy it.” 

“Okay…” he could hear the grin in Jackie’s voice. What was he up to? “How about…we try out the drop tower?”

“The…no. Nope. Not a chance. I don’t have to see it to hear how much of a metal deathtrap it is.”

“If a human had built it, sure. But this was made with magic or someone created to build stuff like it. It’d be statistically safer than any drop tower a human could build. And even if it did malfunction,” he stood up on his toes to give a quick peck on Marvin’s jaw, “your dear superhero’ll save ya.”

“You can fly,” Marvin laughed, pushing him away good-naturedly, “what could the tower offer?”

“Aw, I’ve always kinda wanted to try one, though. They look fun!”

“We’re not going on that thing.”

———————————————————————–

“…Remind me again how you talked me into this?”

“Admit it: You kinda wanted to try it, too.”

“I’m not admitting to anything.” With that, he stuck out his tongue as his partner laughed.

“Yeah. Riiiight. And you totally weren’t the one to run ahead of me to get a spot.” Jackie clapped a hand on his shoulder, then helped with Marvin’s shoulder harness. It clicked, but he still tugged it a few times to test it before pulling his own harness down.

The ride jolted as it started its ascent and Marvin’s hands shot up to hold the harness. “I’m afraid to ask, but… How tall is this thing?”

“It’s–” Jackie was cut off with a gasp as the ride dropped.

Up, and drop. Up, drop. 

Marvin wasn’t sure when his hand found Jackie’s, nor when his startled yelps every time the ride dropped changed into delighted laughter, but hey. May he had kinda wanted to try it. Just a little.