#I'm so glad its eyes look like that I wouldn't have it any other way

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : fwb!hamzah x grumpy!reader

summary: short lil fic for these two lol , based on this request thank u for ur patience anon!!!!!

warnings: friends with benefits relationship, mentions of sex, um yk what hell yea

a/n: hamzah is way more high energy here than irl but this is a character based on hamzah (and with his face) so !!!!!

hamzah is freezing his ass off. it's actually unbearable. he's got to the point where he's mumble-lecturing (with a slight uncontrollable chatter to his mouth) himself as he walks down the crowded sidewalk, "shoulda' put another fuckin' layer on" or "no hat? really? it's 26 degrees and i don't even have protection for my poor ears" or a dragged whine under his breath of "i'm sooo cold."

he wastes no time, practically ramming through the cafe's petite glass door with a gentle but welcoming "we're open!" sign. as soon as he’s inside he holds his hands up to his mouth and hoards any heat he can into them as he sifts through the lingering line. hamzah is always grateful for your strict earliness (or more so allowance for his tardiness) that gets him a hot coffee and fresh everything bagel without having to wait in an egregiously long line, though he honestly thinks he wouldn't mind standing and taking in the delicious coffee bean scents and twinkling, colored christmas lights dripping around the walls.

he approaches the table you sit daintly at with ease (he'd recognize your unapproachable and blunt aura in even the most comforting places), "hello m'lady." he slouches into the chair across from you; with your scarf wrapped perfectly around your neck and knit sweater warming you well.

your gaze doesn't leave your book as you reply, "awe, you showed up."

hamzah has both hands wrapped around his mug of coffee in hopes that his fingers recover quickly, "uh huh. and this is why i always say don't ever let an alarm clock rule your life. i hit snooze three times and my coffee's still hot." he raises his mug towards you.

you dismissively breathe a laugh and finally look at him; he's leaning back casually in the somewhat small chair, his legs spread without a care, he's wearing the same wrinkled shirt with his old high school mascot (he must've worn to bed) and nothing but a zip-up hoodie thrown over. though his hair somehow remains curled into its perfect brown swoops which you simply can't spite. you tilt your mug towards his to give them a soft clink together, making hamzah smile. "you look cold," you comment.

"'m fucking freezing. don't know what i was thinking- a fifteen minute walk feels like hell when my toes are frozen in place and the wind is ready to blow me away." he speaks through his bites of his bagel. "mm! did you finally try their coffee?" he points to you as you sip.

you look into his large doe eyes, "you know i hate coffee, hamzah-"

"see, you always say that but the coffee here is like no other!" he taps the table in excitement and you smile slightly.

"i'm glad you like it but i'll stick with my hot chocolate," you take another sip of the rich drink and finally tuck your thick book back into your bag.

༉‧₊˚.

you both agree that friends with benefits simply works best for the two of you. there's a reliability you both get from knowing you'll always have a best friend- a wingman, a supporter, a person to have movie marathons and early morning cafe talks with, the person who knows your deli order by heart. but in that friend you have someone you can makeout with when life is too frustrating to even think and your eyes can't leave their lips, someone who knows your body, someone who can go out to a bar with you and would like nothing more than to fuck you afterwards (if no successful hookups come out of the trip).

it's beautiful. it makes you believe in true friendship, honestly.

you're sat with your legs crossed and nothing but a hoodie that swallows you whole and boy-short underwear on as you squint at the flashcard in front of you with a slim red pen dangling between your lips. you try to remember the exact definition for the drawn out vocab word but your mind can't focus anymore. you've spent the past three hours studying notes, writing out flashcards, and going over endless slideshows. your brain hurts and your mouth is dry and it's all just sort of pissing you off now.

you throw the pen from your mouth and climb out of bed, the sudden movement scattering and mixing the cards that were once separated based on your knowledge into one big mess. it's times like this where you wish you were obnoxious enough with your emotions that you'd just scream and yell to get this feeling over with, but instead you walk into your bathroom to rinse your skin with water and stare at yourself for an extra second in the mirror.

you breathe in deeply when you hear an infamous ringtone coming from your bedroom (hamzah stole your phone once and created a ringtone specifically for himself involving a cover of paparazzi performed by him with adlibs of you laughing in the background). sure enough when you walk back into your room, hamzah's face lights up the screen and you accept the facetime call as you sink down onto the bed.

you're surprised he called, you know he had a badminton game tonight and went out afterwards with the team- you figured he'd be to busy to talk and would just end up texting you "im home" close to midnight like usual.

hamzah's distracted when you answer the phone, his face turned the opposite way as he laughs with wide eyes. you just stare, "hamzah."

he's quick to look down at the phone in his hand, his eyes a little puffy, "oh shit! hey." his grin is huge and you can't help but smile slightly which he notices, "a smile?! my god, you must be happy to see me or somethin'!"

"shhhh," you hush him and lay down on your bed, making yourself comfortable.

he's surrounded by blue lighting and randomly-timed white flashes, which give you a proper look at his features, all coated in the large bass of the overbearing pop music. hamzah gets close to the screen to ask, "did'you get my text?" he pulls back from the phone to quirk his eyebrow curiously.

"no, i'm studying."

"where?!" he laughs at his own joke. you quickly turn your phone in your hand to show him the mess of books, cards, and your laptop scattered next to you on the comforter. hamzah sees it all but smirks a little extra when he gets a glimpse of your soft legs curled up and your pair of light blue underwear peeking from beneath your hoodie. "right, right." he nods, "how about you look at my text now that you're here," he exclaims over the music.

you sigh, "mmmkay."

the text reads: mangomango mango plzzz

mango, being your code word for leaving events- or simply just meeting up, to ultimately have sex.

when you return to the call you have a reluctant smile, "you can come over after you're done."

he smiles and raises a thumb up in agreeance.

"don't come over drunk, please."

he kisses his teeth and rolls his eyes, "alright, girl. i'm gonna go do some karaoke and then i'm headin' your way."

"oh i'm jealous i wish i could be in the crowd."

"i know." he jokes, "byeeee." he flutters a few fingers at you.

"bye, h."

༉‧₊˚.

hamzah shows up two hours later (he got caught up in the extravagant environment; he ended up taking a couple more hits from a teammate’s bong, talking to strangers, and dancing to trashy music you’d probably hate), climbing from the rickety brass ladder onto your tiny patio (he was a mess: laughing to himself and only laughing harder when he thought of how inappropriately loud he was being for one in the morning) and opening the glass door with a key hidden inside your old watering can.

he giggles through his declaration as he throws his large coat off onto your small couch, “i’m home!” he wipes over his cold yet clammy face before calling out your name.

hamzah tucks his lip into his mouth as he walks through your dark hallway, toeing off his sneakers and pulling his shirt over his head before he even reaches your bedroom.

he finds you at your sweetest- despite your grumpy, cold attitude, you’re laying down on top of your comforter with a small smile placed on your lips. he takes a few more seconds watching your figure move with your breaths before closing the door behind him and climbing next to you in your bed.

he whines a quiet, “mmm-sorryyy” into the kiss he places at your temple before leaning away to tug a blanket over the two of you. he knows that in the morning he’ll have to properly apologize for keeping you waiting like that … preferably with his tongue.

[killuakiru]

Hiii hru? I was wondering if I could request gon and killua (seperate) with a fem reader that is very girly? And I know it’s kinds weird but she kinda has pretty privilege and will literally get whatever she wants by winning at some other teenager. Shes very kind and sweet though so she doesn’t take advantage of it. Sorry if that’s kind of odd and if you don’t want to write it it’s ok🫶 love you!

HI ANON !! It's completely alright 🫡 I find this request rly cute as my other post was the exact opposite ! Thank you for making this request 🫰 Apologies if its ooc ( out of character ), but I had soo much fun writing this !

⊹₊⋆ IT Girl !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⊹₊⋆ Girly!Reader x Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecss ( Separate ! )ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

༉‧₊˚. Let's Start !༉‧₊˚.

༉‧₊˚. Killua Zoldyck !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• Now let's all be honest ! The first time Killua met you, he probably felt so annoyed and kept grumbling how they were teams with a "girl." As the stereotypical boy he is.

• But despite Killua's comments, you were so unbothered and even excused his actions?! He was stunned! Because if that was him, he'd internally judge them!

• But honestly, Killua underestimated you. In Killua's eyes, you looked so.. fragile? Yet your performance in combat impressed him! You were pretty agile, and you had a smart mind— not to mention, you were pretty, too! Not like he would say that out loud.

• During the final examination, yk the time where he killed an applicant? He could see you from his peripheral vision, and he saw genuine worry and concern for him. HIM. He found that so odd that a girl like you would worry for him.

• When you rescued him, that look in your eyes just SCREAMED affection, and that just hit Killua in the gut, y'know? Who wouldn't fumble in their words when such a pretty and sweet girl like [Name] comes running to them with an expression like that.

• See now— in Killua's case, he's never been with a caring or sweet female since almost everyone is his household is literally fucked up. So you were a new case for him.

• Nonetheless, he was pretty honored and glad you came for him out of everyone.

• And so, he slowly warmed up to you, even growing comfortable to the point he'd randomly touch your hair, arms, fingers, just any where he thinks that looks odd or pretty.

• Yes ! He sometimes stares at your features and finds himself admiring them. Well who wouldn't?! The way you bat your eyelashes so innocently, the way your lip gloss reflects the sun in a positive elegant way when you smile, complimenting your teeth, the way your blush makes your cheeks so much more squishy he just wants to—

• "Killua? You okay? You're zoning out again." [Name] says in amusement with Gon just looked at the boy who was staring, Killua blinked twice and hummed in a nonchalant manner, placing his hands behind his back and shrugged. "I'm perfectly fine. Better than ever. Let's get going again."

• There was one time where there's this one kid around their age who was gatekeeping Killua's the store's choco robots and you came to Killua's rescue, using your very cutesy face card to convince the kid to at least have 3!

• After that, Killua looked at you like you're some kind of GODDESS. He's been trying to convince that kid and you did it so effortlessly?! Even snagging him an extra one?! Oh you're his favorite now.

༉‧₊˚. Gon Freecss !ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

• He found you SUUUPER cute and charismatic ! Like the whole time you two were talking, he'd always sneak in a compliment ! His words flattered you a bunch, too !

• He's like a natural smooth talker 'cause WHAT?! Every compliment / comment he makes about you leaves your heart beating!

• Instead of you making him flustered, you ALWAYS find yourself stammering over your words. Was it you who fell in love first or was it him?!

• Honestly with how smooth he is you're starting to think he treats every girl like this.. ( Spoiler, he doesn't )

• During the Heaven's Arena training, he was genuinely worried since you'd often wear skirts, but turns out you were already prepared! Introducing the.. skort! While it looks like an ordinary skirt, there were already built in shorts inside to prevent the creeps from looking!

• Similarly to Killua, he finds himself staring but is shamelessly doing it. When you stare back, he smiles. SMILES so charmingly, making YOU look away and he laughs.

• He loves the fact you get along with anyone you see or talk to !! It's probably because of your looks and personality, but nonetheless he supports you !!

• okay but I js know he's really vocal with your favorite features !! He probably loves your hair since it looks so silky, smooth, and soft to the touch! He also probably loves your nails too ! Almost having new and different styles monthly and he loves making guesses and predictions on what the design / style it'll be !!

• oh and, he absolutely LOVES how you do a wardrobe change almost everyday, you and Killua do a bunch of fashion shows together and Gon rates them :3

• His favorite fits are probably the ones with the very long skirts that reach the ankles with a comfy top, just anything that reminds him of Mito !

• He loves all the girls in his life equally :3 a lot of things reminds him of you and Mito ! So when he brought you and Killua to Whale Island to meet Mito, he was really happy that you got along well with his mother <3

• This was honestly his go signal to just shoot his shot, what could he lose? His mama loves you so much ! And he does too !! And so does Killua !! Everyone approves of you !!

༉‧₊˚. End !༉‧₊˚.

Thank you for reading ! This strictly belongs to me / killuakiru and I do not give permission for you to repost on other platforms, thank you !

[makeyoumine69]

i would love to see more jealous patrick ❤️😫

Hello, dear anon!💗

Ohhh, jealous Patrick is a thing!

In the middle of dinner with Bateman's family in Dorsia, the reservation Patrick had been trying to get all week, you needed a moment to powder your nose. On your way back to your table, you were playing with the ring Patrick had gifted you a week ago—a huge gem shone on it whenever you rolled it between your fingers—but when you were distracted by the waiter, you accidentally dropped the ring, and if the stranger hadn't caught it, it would have rolled across the floor to God only knew where.

"Oh, thank you so much!" You beamed and smiled as the unfamiliar but handsome man returned the ring.

"It's nothing, really." He replied, examining you curiously from head to toe.

Such attention made you embarrassed, but then you felt a burning sensation between your shoulders. When you turned around, you locked your confused gaze with Bateman's, his hazel eyes piercing through yours like sharp daggers.

"Uh, thanks again! But I have to go!" With these words you walked away from the stranger before he could tell you something else.

Sheepishly you approached the table where Patrick, his parents and his brother Sean with his date were waiting for you. And even though Bateman's face was devoid of emotion, the moment you took your seat, his large palm found its way to your inner thigh in the blink of an eye.

"So, who was that guy?" He whispered in your ear, leaning closer so only you could hear. "And why was he touching you?"

You let out a shaky breath and smiled politely over Mrs. Bateman's comment that she was glad you were finally back. "What?" You asked bewilderedly without looking at the man next to you. "I just dropped my ring."

"You dropped the ring?" Patrick almost chuckled, his hand diving deeper between your legs under the table, forcing you to grab it to keep him from going any further. "Forgot how to wear a ring, sunshine?" The man took the opportunity to nip at your neck while everyone at the table was busy with each other. "When we get home, I'll remind you… I'll remind you of everything."

His skillful fingers reached beneath your skirt no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Now, they were brazenly playing with the lace of your panties and perfectly hiding beneath the soft material of your dress.

"Patrick," you gasped, gripping the table to stifle a moan as Bateman pressed his thumb against your blushing clit. "Please," your pathetic pleas only brought a broad grin to his smug face. "Stop."

And then Patrick's mother asked you a question you couldn't even hear as your whole body was focused on the rising tension in your lower abdomen as the man was relentless in his intentions to work you up.

"Excuse me…could you please repeat your question? You asked, completely awkward.

Patrick smirked arrogantly and leaned back in his chair. "She asked if you liked the food," he muttered mockingly, before shoving his two digits into your oozing pussy. "Believe me, Mother, she is enjoying the evening. Am I right, honey?"

Paralyzed, you were about to explode at how shamelessly Bateman was behaving, literally fingering you in front of his family. Biting your lower lip for a second, you tried to take a sip of mineral water, but the man wouldn't let you as he intensified his ministrations, curling his fingers to stimulate that spongy spot inside you that made you grip the surface of the table once again.

"Yes…everything is perfect," you managed to blurt out, sensing the cool metal of his Rolex gliding along your hot skin, the contrast only heightening the pleasure. "Thank you, Patrick."

"You're welcome, darling," the man chirped, leaning closer to peck your cheek in an affectionate, pretending way, only to purr into your ear. "Tonight I'm gonna fuck you so hard you won't even remember your own name." And with that, Bateman sat back, looking cheeky as ever, as he felt your inner walls contracting around his fingers once he began to rub your little bud with his thumb.

Mrs. Bateman couldn't help but smile. "Oh, you two are so adorable! Such a loving couple."

With a soft chuckle, Patrick grinned in pure delight. "Thank you. We really are."

Bastard.

[angelltheninth]

HELLOOOO GOOD MORNNNNNN (even if its prolly not morning there) huge fan, love your hoyo posts LOVE UR WRITING IN GENERAL!!!!!!!! feel free to ignore if ur not taking any reqs rn but i wanted to know your take on the batboys having a meet-cute with their s/o!!! hope u have a good day btw 🫶

I'm so glad you enjoy my writing. Really makes my day.

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Reader

Tags: fluff, meet-cute, flirting, difference of opinion, banter, dancing, pets

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: I thought it would be funny to give them something more normal rather than the regula superhero things.

DICK GRAYSON

You meet him at the local dog shelter. Both of you want to adopt the same dog and neither of you want to back off. Dick is pretty well built and argues that he would take the dog out on walks a lot more than you, but on the other hand you live in a bigger house with a backyard so the dog wouldn't need to be cooped up in an apartment while Dick does, whatever he does for a living. When you hear he already has one dog you tell him then it's only fair that you get this one. The only way to settle this is to let the dog choose. And the dog chose you, much to your apparent rival's disappointment. Well since you both have a dog now, perhaps luck will have it and you'll meet at the park. He looks like a fun dog dad.

JASON TODD

Jason was someone you saw a few times at the bar that you both frequent. You never approached him before, despite really wanting to, so he approached you first. He called you out on staring at him like some pervert, and if you claim you're not then you should have no problem dancing with him. One dance isn't gonna kill you, or maybe you're a horrible dancer and you're hiding it. Well he might be an asshole, but you're the one who's been eyeing him ever since he stepped into the bar. So he gets to tease you for tonight. All he wants actually, since it's so fun to watch you blush. In exchange for being your dance and drinking buddy for the night, how about you repay him with a date.

TIM DRAKE

Tim and you go to the same classes at college so you see each other pretty often, or whenever he shows up actually. You never talked much, outside of when you needed to, you just knew of each other, more than knowing each other. In fact the first time you first talked to each other, for a long period of time, was in the library when you were both looking for the same book. Since you both had project deadlines and he was too busy at night, for some reason, you agreed to work on your projects in the afternoons. As it turns out he's a pretty nice guy, not at all the rich loner you thought he'd be. Not only that but he is very helpful when it came to your own project. So helpful in fact that you had to ask him on a date to thank him.

DAMIAN WAYNE

He really likes books and proving that he has better taste and understanding than anyone else. So of course you get into a debate with him over the book you read for this months book club. Damian is loud and has plenty of opinions, you and everyone else will hear them out regardless if you want to or not. This your first time seeing him at your book club so he has to be new and already making enemies. Of course you knew who he was, his last name was a dead giveaway, but just because his dad is one of the richest men in Gotham doesn't mean he gets to be rude. A fight almost breaks out between you two but he has a smirk on his face the whole time, a rather cute smirk. Part of you hopes that he'll show up to the next meeting.

[ixloom819]

It's What's Inside

What if MC had a thing for blood, specifically the taste of it? How would the lads find out? This is heavily based on the song "The Red Means I Love You". Trigger warnings for blood, self-harm, violence, slight mention of bullying, maybe toxic relationships? If I miss any, let me know and I'll add them. Also, if your name is Andrea or Cassius, I swear I'm not targeting you; these are just names I'm using for the fic.

Caleb: (This is also backstory for this MC)

Your fascination started all the way back with the Unicorn team. No one had really seen how a drop of your blood made its way into the corner of your mouth on one of the experiments, so no one knew where it started. But it was something different than what the scientists would feed you. It was something alive, something that was entirely you, and you craved it.

Everyone was worried when you started scratching yourself to draw blood, even more so when you refused to get bandaged and kept pinching the area to squeeze more blood to lick up. They tried all sorts of punishments and persuasion to get you to stop, but you wouldn't.

Caleb was the only one who tried to understand you. He would listen to you about why you wanted to drink blood so much, then do something no one expected: offer his own blood. Because that was who Caleb was. He would never think bad of you, and he would look out for your every need, even the unconventional ones.

Caleb had hoped that once you had escaped together, you might not feel the need to drink blood anymore, as if it were a coping mechanism for dealing with the trauma. But even if that was the case, your urges didn't go away. That was fine. He would still be there with zero judgment and a willing arm. The last thing he wanted was for you to hurt yourself over this.

Then something unprecedented happened: Josephine got a call from the school that you had attacked a girl in your class with some scissors. Josephine and Caleb rushed to the school, where Josephine apologized and promised it would be a one-time event, and Caleb went to comfort you, who was shaken up by the whole ordeal.

"I-I didn't mean to hurt her," you tried to explain between sobs, "it-it's just- I really like Andrea. She made me happy, like you. S-so I wanted some of her blood... But-but she wasn't like you. She didn't understand. She-she screamed and cried and- she said I was hurting her... I didn't want to hurt her..."

Somewhere along the line, you had associated drinking someone's blood as showing love and happiness towards them. Josephine and Caleb had to explain that taking someone's blood like that hurt them, and it was considered wrong by most people. If you had the urge to drink someone's blood, you had to ignore it.

"...Does that mean, when I drink your blood... I'm hurting you?" you had asked Caleb afterwards, looking ashamed and miserable. Caleb quickly scooped you into a hug. "Not at all, pipsqueak. I'm strong, I can handle it. If it's something you need, I'm glad to give it to you."

Since you were so young, the incident was eventually forgotten by your classmates, though teachers and concerned parents kept an eye on you. You learned from your mistakes and didn't even mention your desire for blood to your friends. Each time you felt the urge, you remembered Andrea screaming and stayed silent.

At least until Cassius. He was your middle school crush. He was good-looking, athletic, pretty smart, and he always seemed nice to you. The desire to taste his blood, to have the essence of someone you loved inside of you, was irresistible. Maybe if you explained it to him, he would be willing to give you some blood?

But no. Once he realized you weren't joking, he looked at you with revulsion. He called you a psychopath and left you ashamed and broken-hearted. He told people what you had done, and children that age were happy for any excuse to bully others and put them down. It's not like anyone really believed it (who would want to believe one of their classmates was like that?), but that didn't stop the torment.

When Caleb heard what had happened, he figured something was wrong with him because he was glad. Sure, he was angry at Cassius for saying such cruel things to you and starting the bullying, but he also didn't want you to find someone else who would give you blood. That privilege, that right, was his alone. Blood was a special connection towards you, and he wanted to be the only one with that connection.

You learned to be ashamed of your desire. You already knew it was something that caused pain, but now you were learning how abnormal and unorthodox people saw it. You started believing yourself a monster for your cravings. Caleb did his best to dissuade you, but self-hatred has deep roots.

At least Caleb accepted you for the monster you were. He was your safe space, the one person you could turn to to satisfy your cravings. He was always willing to give blood to you whenever you needed it. Even when he left for flight school, he made you promise not to take blood from yourself. "Just wait a little longer, pipsqueak," he'd say, "I'll be home soon. I don't want you to hurt yourself for this."

Then he and Josephine died, and it was like your pillar had been smashed to pieces. Your grief was all-consuming, and you had no one to turn to. No one understood you like Caleb did. No one loved you like Caleb did.

And now, a year later, he was back.

Once Caleb had you safe from outside eyes and relatively calmed you down from your (well-deserved) freakout, he took your hands and looked at you solemnly. "Pipsqueak... can I look at your arms?"

You tensed. There was one reason why he'd ask that, and you wouldn't be able to hide it from him. The lump in your throat too large to force words through, you shook your head minusculely.

Caleb didn't have to look at your arms, and frankly, he didn't want to. The fact that you refused and the guilt-ridden expression, though hidden well, was enough for him. "Oh, pips..." he murmured.

Tears welled in your eyes. You had disappointed him. You had hurt yourself when you knew he didn't want you to, that it made him sad. "I'm sorry..." you whispered, trying not to break in front of him. "I... It's been so lonely... I couldn't... I wanted to feel closer to you..."

Caleb pulled you into a hug, stroking you soothingly and shushing you. You couldn't help but cry. "It's alright, pipsqueak, it's alright... I'm here now... I'm not leaving, ever again... everything's going to be okay..."

Eventually, when your tears dried up, Caleb sat you on his lap and pulled something out of his pocket. You looked at it with surprise and slight trepidation: a switchblade.

"It's been a while, right?" Caleb said in his light tone, rolling up his sleeve. "I figured it might help you feel better."

You clutched the blade tightly. "Caleb, I... I don't know..." He had just come back from the dead. It wasn't right for you to hurt him so soon after reuniting with him.

Caleb looked you dead in the eyes, with the no-nonsense expression that always helped calm your inner demons. "I want to," he said plainly. "I missed you, every part of you. Especially this."

You couldn't deny it. You missed him as well. You missed this too.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the blade against his forearm, just enough to draw a bit of blood. Then you pressed your lips against it, sliding your tongue across his skin.

So much had changed, both with time and with Caleb. But he still tasted the same. No matter what happened, he would still be your Caleb. You could still find these moments of happiness with him. And maybe that was enough for you.

Zayne:

Zayne glanced at you as you washed the potatoes, a contented smile on your face as you hummed under your breath. You seemed so at peace and happy here with him. It made his heart warm.

You didn't always look so happy. He remembered when you both were younger, when terrible rumors were spread about you threatening a student. He had scoffed then, and he did now. How could someone as kind and wonderful as you ever think of wanting to harm someone?

You always seemed so... downtrodden by the rumors. Zayne never asked you if they were true, not wanting you to think he believed them at all. But he always made sure that you knew he was in your corner in his own way. He wasn't the most affectionate person, but he made sure his quiet presence was constant around you.

Until that day-

A spark of pain flashed through his hand, and he hissed, the knife dropping onto the cutting board. He saw the blood welling up on his finger, and he quickly moved it away from the vegetables.

"Are you- okay...?" You turned at Zayne's noise of pain, then your eyes locked on his finger, the blood still welling up.

Zayne did notice the slight shift in your tone, but he dismissed it for now. "Yes, I'm alright. I was just lost in thought," he said, already moving towards the first aid kit. "I'm pretty sure none of it got on the food, but I'll have to clean the knife-"

"Hang on," you said quickly, grabbing his hand before he could move away. Zayne looked at you curiously. There was a certain intensity to you that was foreign to him. Your eyes were still locked on his finger, the blood gathering together into a drop.

You felt a swell of trepidation. You threatened to show a part of you that could scare him away... but you had been craving this for so long. And you wanted him to see this part of you. You hoped that... he would still accept you after this.

"Let me," you murmured, bringing his hand towards your mouth. Slowly, so he had time to stop you if he wanted. "...kiss it better first."

Zayne looked at you with bewilderment. He had never seen you like this before. The doctor in him said that this was unsanitary, that he should clean the cut first. But he was never one to deny you.

When he made no protest, you pressed your mouth against the cut. You suppressed a shiver as the taste of his blood invaded your mouth. It tasted sweet... was it from all the desserts he ate? Before you could think about it, your tongue slipped out and caressed the cut. You heard a sharp inhale, and Zayne's body flinched.

The motion shocked you back to reality, and you quickly moved away, dropping his hand. You forgot, pressing your saliva against his cut would sting. What were you thinking? You'd let your cravings get the best of you, and now not only did you weird him out, you also caused him additional pain. "Sorry," you said quickly, turning away back towards the potatoes and scrubbing them with a bit of aggressiveness.

Zayne looked at you like he was seeing a whole new person. He had seen your expression as your lips went against his cut. You looked... euphoric? No, that was too intense. You looked... happy. Like you had wanted to do something like that for a while. And when you pressed your tongue against him...

He didn't mean to react like that. It just took him by surprise, and while it caused a minuscule amount of pain, it certainly wasn't unmanageable. But he caught that fear in your eyes. Like you had done something wrong.

"Darling," he said softly, "is everything alright?"

"Yeah," you said, not turning to face him. "Here, I'll clean the knife while you clean up."

You moved your hand towards the discarded knife, but Zayne took your hand and pulled you to face him. You let him turn you, but didn't meet his eyes.

"I don't mind you kissing me better," Zayne said in a reassuring tone. "But I think... it means something more to you. You looked... happy. And then scared."

Seeing you still avoided his gaze, he put his hands under his chin and gently lifted it. "You can talk to me about anything, my love," Zayne said softly.

Meeting his gorgeous hazel eyes, you swallowed the lump in your throat. "I..." You looked away again, ashamed. "...I like the taste of blood." There, the worst of it is out in the open now.

Zayne was expecting something like that, based on your reaction to his bleeding finger. "May I ask why?" he responded. "Is it the taste? A compulsion?"

He didn't sound any different, any harsher. But you didn't want to look at him and find what you expected. "...It's a bit of a compulsion," you admit. "But... it's more than that. When I care about someone a lot... I want to taste them. I want to feel like a part of them is... inside of me. Normally, I'm able to ignore it..." you trailed off.

It surprised Zayne how pleased he was to hear that. That you cared about him so much that you wanted to feel that much closer to him. "But my little accident pushed you towards temptation?" he offered a conclusion. Flushing with embarrassment, you nodded.

Zayne placed his cool hand on your warm cheek and guided your gaze back to him. "I don't mind sharing some blood with you," he spoke softly, "if that is what you desire from me."

If his words didn't steal the breath from your lungs, the soft, accepting expression on his face made you melt. Your doubts and self-condemnations faded into the background. "...Really?"

Zayne gave you one of his rare smiles. "Of course, darling." After a pause, he added, "Though I would suggest we find a more sanitary option."

Xavier:

Xavier and you were sent on a mission to a site with high Metaflux readings. The Wanderers here were fairly high leveled, and you had to fall back.

You hid behind a cliffside, reloading your guns. "There's still a lot of them. How're you doing, Xavier?"

"I'm doing alright," he replied, "but I think one of them got me a bit."

"What?!" you looked up, alarmed. "Where? Let me see."

Xavier showed you his arm. The sleeve was rolled up, and you could see a small scratch on his arm. And... blood was pooling up. It wasn't coming out at an alarming rate, but a few droplets were forming at the cut.

The scarlet droplets shining from the moonlight were a mesmerizing sight...

"Starlight?"

You snapped out of your trance. "Sorry." Ignore it, ignore it, it's not important right now. "Do you have a first aid kit?" You tore your eyes away from his arm to check yourself for one.

"No," Xavier said, having the same results as you. "It's not a big deal. I'm just worried about the blood getting on my hands and making my grip loose."

The thought of his blood running down his arm to his fingers - of you licking it all up - made your body heat up and a shiver run down your spine. Get a grip!

You swallowed, gathering your thoughts. "I think we have a few minutes," you said, glancing around the area. "Pinch the area and try and get as much blood out as possible. When it stops, then it's not likely to bleed, though I can't guarantee that in battle. Maybe you can make a small makeshift bandage."

When you looked at Xavier, he looked... surprised. "How do you know that?"

You flushed. Obviously, you sounded like you knew from personal experience. How to explain? "I pick at hangnails and they bleed sometimes," you explained, "I do that to get them to stop bleeding faster since I don't normally carry band-aids on me." It was true, so hopefully it would satisfy him.

Xavier looked at you oddly. What was going through his head? The man was an enigma on the norm, but it felt much more pressing when you knew he was thinking about you, especially the part of you you've always tried to hide.

"So... like this?" Without breaking eye contact, Xavier's hand moved and pinched the cut on his arm. The blood escaped a bit faster, and again, your eyes were locked onto the cut.

You swallowed, trying to keep track of the conversation. "Yeah... you'll, um, want to get into a rhythm of relaxing and squeezing it, so you can... tell when it's done bleeding."

Xavier let out a small hum and followed your instructions, loosening his pinch then tightening it again. The blood slowly, tantalizingly, trickled down his arm, and stars it was hard not to pounce on him.

Xavier took in the scene, how you looked at his arm - or specifically his blood - with such... hunger? No, fascination was a better word. You were captivated by the blood flowing out of his arm.

He knew you weren't the sadistic type, so you weren't taking joy in his pain. He hadn't seen you act this way in any of your incarnations. But maybe this was one of the quirks this version of you had. And he would never push you away for it.

"How do I tell when the wound's done bleeding?"

His question brought you back to reality. "Um... you wipe it off each time, or ever so often, depending on what you want to do, and... well, you'll be able to see when it stops bleeding."

"I see." Then he did something unexpected. He stretched his arm towards you. "Could you clean it up then?"

Your eyes finally broke from his arm to meet his in shock. Don't go crazy, don't go overboard, don't just do what you want, you'll scare him away, clean it up normally, don't-

"I can tell you want it," Xavier interrupted your attempts at control. "I don't understand it, but I'm fine giving it to you. Take it,"

You were sure you looked a mess, on the edge of separation. You walked towards him, your legs feeling weak. You gently held his arm and met his gaze. "You're... you're sure you want this?" You had to check, had to make sure you were on the same page and you weren't going to scare him away.

"Of course, starlight."

You couldn't resist the temptation anymore. You brought the end of the blood trail to your lips and slowly followed it upwards with your tongue. You felt Xavier shiver. You're pretty sure you did, too.

You went all the way up to his cut, and you lapped up the blood. Other than a small flinch, Xavier gave no indication that the saliva hitting his cut did anything to him at all.

Xavier tasted... tangy. You could taste a stronger hint of iron in it, the metallic taste sending a pang at the roof of your mouth. Yet it also tasted... tingly. Like it was full of energy, quivering in your mouth. You moved your lips away, your tongue covering every bit of your mouth to make sure you didn't lose any of the sacred, forbidden flavor.

When you looked up at Xavier, there was no disgust to be seen. A little confusion and curiosity, but none of the horror you had come to expect from people. Instead, he pinched his arm again, causing more blood to seep out.

"I guess it's not done bleeding," he said in that constantly calm tone. He moved his arm back towards you. "Will you clean it again?"

Gladly.

Rafayel:

You're slowly going insane.

It wasn't even his fault. How could it be? He couldn't control who he was born as. He couldn't control his physiology.

It was all you. You and your twisted cravings and your perverted sense of love. You were the problem here, and you didn't know how to solve it.

You had been getting closer to Rafayel. So close that the urge, the desire for his blood, was getting too loud to ignore.

He had his quirks of his own, you told yourself. Sure, he was judgy towards others, but he seemed to hold a soft spot for you. Maybe he'd be different from Cassius. Maybe he would give you a shot.

But then he told you he was Lemurian. Not only that, but his kind was being hunted down because their blood granted immortality.

What were you supposed to do?! Obviously, you couldn't tell him about you wanting his blood. He could take that to believe you wanted to use him for immortality. That would make you the same as EVER in his eyes.

And you didn't even want immortality! Not if you'd have to watch Rafayel grow old and die, leaving you with the consequences of your thirst. You were not about to create a sort of Bella and Edward relationship.

"-cutie? Helloooooo?"

You snapped out of your thoughts to see Rafayel waving his hand in front of you, his paintbrush tucked between his fingers.

"Geez, if you're so bubble-headed, you won't be able to protect me well, Miss Bodyguard," Rafayel teased, giving you a cheeky smile.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Sorry, I just spaced out for a sec." You glanced at the painting he was working on. "It's turning out pretty good."

You waited for him to dramatically gasp and demand a better compliment than 'pretty good'. When he was quiet, you turned to look at him, surprised to see him studying you seriously.

"Something's bothering you." He said it bluntly - not a question, but a fact.

You flushed a bit. "I'm fine, Raf, really-"

"It's not just today," he cut you off. "You've been thinking a lot since I... told you about who I am." You could hear a sliver of vulnerability in his voice. "Does it... bother you? That I'm not human?"

"No, no!" you said quickly. "It's not that at all, it's..." You trailed off. How could you tell him the truth? "...Something else."

His gaze didn't falter. "But it is something."

You didn't respond. Again, it was a statement, not an inquiry. You didn't need to confirm it. You both knew it was true.

"You can talk to me," Rafayel spoke up, his voice holding a tenderness that wasn't often found in favor of his playfulness.

A nearly hysterical laugh bubbled up before you could swallow it down. "No, not really," you said with bitter amusement in your tone, raking a hand through your hair. "Because I can't say it without sounding greedy, two-faced, or insane." There, it was out in the air.

Rafayel looked nonplussed. "Well, I know you're not the first two." Then, with a teasing smile, he added, "Thought the court's still out for the last part."

Smile. Laugh it off. He meant it as a joke. Don't be so sensitive. But you couldn't. That hit harder than it was meant to. Cassius' words rose to the surface of your memory. Freak. Disgusting. Lunatic.

He seemed to sense that he had touched a sensitive spot. "I'm not going to judge you," he said, emphasizing his words to show his sincerity. "Please, tell me what's bothering you. I want to know. I want to help."

The breath you took in trembled more than you wanted. You had to look away. You couldn't bear seeing his face, or more specifically, how it would change.

"...I want to taste your blood," you forced the words out. You waited to hear his inhale of breath, the shift in his body, the inevitable question of why.

Nothing. You dared to look at Rafayel.

No disgust. No judgement. He just waited for you to say what you wanted. You had to look away again. You started pacing, wringing your hands as if you could push all your anxiousness out of you.

"It's not- well, it is an urge, but it's more than that. When I get close to someone, I... want to taste their blood. It helps me... feel closer to them. I'm normally able to ignore it, but... I really care about you, Rafayel, and I want to be closer to you.

"But... you're Lemurian," you continued, running your fingers through your scalp. "And apparently, your blood gives immortality. And... I don't want to live forever. I don't want to see you die." You felt yourself get choked up. "I want to be closer to you... to love you the way I want to... but I can't. And it's killing me..."

When you dared to look up at Rafayel, he wasn't portraying fear or pity. He had his head lowered, brow furrowed, and fingers holding his chin, as if deep in thought. You watched his lips move and thought you made out '...wouldn't forget anymore...'

"...Raf?" you spoke up, wishing you did a better job at hiding the vulnerability in your tone.

He looked up, snapping out of his own thoughts, then stood up. He quickly approached you and wrapped you in his arms.

"It's alright," he said softly. "I don't think you're a bad person for knowing what you want. It may be unconventional, but it's not to cause pain to others. That's not who you are."

His words of reassurance and acceptance made your eyes water, and you buried your face into his chest to try and regain your composure, an act that made him chuckle.

"As for the immortality complication... we can talk about it later. It may not be as impossible or terrible as you may think. In any case, we'll find a way to get you what you need.

"I will do whatever it takes to make you happy."

Sylus:

You weren't sure how to deal with your growing affection (and therefore growing thirst) for Sylus.

On one hand, he made it obvious he wasn't afraid of blood or pain, and he certainly didn't mind it. He walked through battlefields on his own and walked out victorious with his injuries healing on the spot. He didn't even die when you put a bullet through his heart.

But that was part of the problem. He healed way too fast. Your eyes would lock onto a cut or a grazed bullet wound, and it would heal before your eyes, not even leaving a bloodstain for you to stare at. If you knew how much Sylus would mean to you, maybe you would've taken advantage of it when you were on top of him with his blood flowing out of his chest.

At the same time, you feared what he might think of you. Sure, he killed men and acted like he enjoyed it, but he didn't play the role of a locksick vampire. He did what was necessary for a crime boss. Meanwhile, you did it for pleasure and your own selfish wishes.

Did that make you more of a monster?

So you did what you always did. You pushed your desires to the back of your mind and did your best to keep your head in the game.

But Sylus is very observant of what he's interested in. And people's desires are his specialty.

He didn't miss the way your eyes would lock onto any wounds he got in fights. He also didn't miss how... disappointed you looked as you watched them heal. It wasn't obvious, but he was hyperaware of the slightest shift in your expression.

It wasn't animosity or the desire for him to be hurt. No, he was certain you had gotten past that phase where you were... repulsed by him. It mystified him. He needed to know why you acted in such a strange way.

Which is why he invited you to spar with him. Specifically to spar with knives.

"Remind me again what the point of this is?" you asked, tossing your dagger between your hands while looking at Sylus scrutinously.

"I know how well you handle guns, kitten," Sylus answered with a smirk, twirling his own dagger in his larger-than-life hands. "I want to see if you do as well with a blade."

You let out a small exhale and held the dagger steadily in your hands, preparing for the fight. "Well, I hope not to disappoint then."

Sylus grinned, clutching his blade in a relaxed yet firm grip. "Oh, I'm sure you won't." He lunged, beginning the fight.

You were a good fighter. You dodged all his attacks (not like he was aiming to seriously hurt you), identified his feints, and made him have to put a bit more energy into avoiding your weapon. His kitten certainly had some sharp claws.

But he didn't invite you here for a nice workout. So, as you swung for his face, he hesitated just long enough for your blade to slice his cheek. He could feel the air sting the cut, and a small drop of blood trickle down his face.

And there it was. The laser focused attention, your body slowing to a stop, your dilated eyes watching the drop's path. It was so strange, yet so addicting to see.

"It looks like you got me, kitten," Sylus said in his rumbly deep voice, which was not helping you focus on the matter at hand. You knew you were in a fight, but he was bleeding, and it wasn't healing instantly. Why? Was it because you were the one attacking him? No, that couldn't be it. When you attacked him the first time, he healed his cut away-

He was suddenly right in front of you, his knife lying gently against your throat. "You got distracted," he purred, "and now you're dead."

You knew he was right. If you had frozen up like that in a real fight, the enemy would've taken advantage of you and stuck a blade in you. But it was a sparring match, it was Sylus who was bleeding, and that drop of blood was so tantalizingly close right now...

Sylus took note of your continued silence, your continued staring, even when he had you at knifepoint. You were so entranced, and he had to know why.

"I've noticed you pay quite a lot of attention whenever I get hurt, sweetie," he said in a soft, yet teasing tone. "Do you like seeing me injured that bad?"

His words finally got through to you, and you flushed, forcing yourself to glance away. What were you thinking?! You were way too obvious, and now he knew something was up. What could you say?

"...You're not healing right away," you said. An observation that would be considered an explanation, if not a very weak one.

Sylus gave that rich chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. "It's not because I don't want it to right now. But that's not the point." He lowered his knife and got closer.

"Every time you see me get hurt, you look... enchanted. Almost like you want to pounce on me. And then you're... disappointed when it heals."

Your heart pounded. He noticed? Even then?

"I can't help but be ever so curious," he continued, "so I let up this little sparring match to get an answer from you." He leaned in to whisper in your ear. "What is it about my injuries that captivate you so, kitten?"

It was a fair question, you knew it. Anyone would be curious about such a response. But you couldn't help the shame rising in you, the voices of the past berating you about how freakish and awful you were for what you wanted. You couldn't look at him. "It's not... about you getting hurt..."

Sylus could tell he was breaking through your walls. "Then what is it?" he urged.

A lump was forming in your throat, as if your body rebelled at the idea of telling him the truth. "...You'll... think I'm a monster for it..." you whispered.

Sylus could tell you meant it, but he couldn't contain the disbelieving scoff. "Darling, you know what I do for a living, right? I'm certain you could fill a lake with the blood I spilled. If there's a monster here, you're talking to him." He softened his tone, "So you don't have to fear any secret you may be hiding from me. I just want to know."

You tried to breathe, to calm down. Sylus wasn't going to judge you for this, Sylus wasn't going to judge you for this...

"...When I care about someone," you began slowly, as if walking through a landmine, "I want to feel... closer to them. I want to feel like... a part of them is inside me. When I care about someone deeply, I..."

You fought to get the words out. Sylus waited patiently.

"...I want to taste their blood," you finally whispered, your cheeks blazing with the shame of admitting such twisted desires.

Sylus' expression didn't change. No furrow of the brow, no thinning of the lips, no sense that he was pulling back in any sense.

"Does that mean you want to taste my blood?" Sylus asked instead. "Does that mean you care about me that much?"

Somehow, your cheeks burned brighter at that. "I... I guess," you said shyly. "Normally, I'm able to ignore it better, but..." you trailed off.

The smirk on Sylus' face was nothing but victorious.

"Well then," he drawled, "a little blood is a small price to pay for your affections."

Sylus gently grabbed your chin and guided you to him, towards his face, towards his cheek, where the blood was drying. "Well?" Sylus asked challengingly. "What are you waiting for? It's what you want, right? It's all yours."

Your eyes locked onto the trail of blood down his cheek. You looked into his eyes one last time for any hesitation, any sign he would rescind his offer.

When you found none, you tentatively leaned in and touched the end of the trail with your tongue. It had been outside the body for too long; it didn't taste like anything. Your tongue moved, trailing up his sharp cheekbones, and you swear you felt Sylus shiver.

At last, you got to the cut and lapped up fresher blood. It was salty, probably mixed with the sweat of the workout. You let out a soft sigh, almost a moan, and swiped your tongue against the cut again.

Sylus flinched, and you stopped. Had you gone too far? You started pulling back, an apology already on your lips.

His hand cupped the back of your head, keeping it in place. "Don't stop," he said lowly, almost a growl. "Not unless you want to. I'm fine, it just stung a little."

You stopped resisting his hand. "You're sure?" you asked.

You didn't see as much as you felt his smirk. "I'm all yours, darling. Body, blood, and soul."

[justzutara]

Prompt: Zuko and Hakoda have a heart to heart about fatherhood.

Zuko stroked Katara's sweat-soaked hair as she slept. Two days after going into labor, their baby still refused to leave the safety of its mother's womb. "He's stubborn just like you," Katara had said after the first sixteen hours had passed.

Everything since then had been a blur as Katara's comment replayed in his mind again and again. "He's stubborn just like you. He's stubborn."

He.

They hadn't talked about the sex of the baby during her pregnancy, but that simple joke had confirmed exactly what Zuko feared: he did not think he could raise a son.

"Fire Lord Zuko," the head midwife whispered, "would you step out for a moment? We need to make preparations for when Master Katara wakes." He nodded and promptly got out of the midwives' way.

The frigid air was still outside the birthing hut. Snow sparkled in the torchlight under his feet, and stars glittered in the dark blue sky above. Any other night Zuko would have marveled at the beauty of night in the south pole, but with his wife's labor stalled and his mind in overdrive, every point of light felt like a needle in his eye.

A firm hand on his shoulder snapped Zuko back to his senses. "How is she doing?" A nigh imperceptible tremor punctured Chief Hakoda's confident voice.

"The midwives gave her something to speed up her labor. It should kick in soon. Besides that, they said everything is fine," Zuko parrotted what he remembered from the update they'd given before Katara fell asleep.

"That's a relief," Hakoda smiled. Zuko nodded, his eyes fixed on the snow.

Hakoda squeezed Zuko's shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"I...I don't..." his stomach turned as he fumbled over his words.

"Nervous?" Hakoda asked.

"Terrified," Zuko admitted. They walked around to the side of the hut so their voices wouldn't disturb the midwives. "Katara thinks it's a boy."

"Does she? Most men would be thrilled about that."

"Most men also didn't have fathers who burned off half their faces," Zuko snapped. Hakoda looked away and tension settled between the two men.

"You're right. I apologize," Hakoda murmured. Zuko hugged his crossed arms tight to his body. "At least you know what not to do," the chief offered with a strained smirk.

To both their surprise, Zuko laughed. It was a rough, choked sound that brought tears to his eyes--which he quickly wiped away lest they freeze--but it felt good. His father and brother-in-law's sense of humor wasn't for everyone, but Zuko was glad for it now. "You're right about that. I could use some advice about what to do, though."

Hakoda leaned against the hut. "I'm afraid there's not much I can tell you," he sighed. "I did my best with Sokka and Katara after their mother died, but to be honest, I don't remember much about those years. I left to fight in the war when they were still young, and by the time we were reunited, they'd grown up." The older man drew circles in the snow with his boot. "My children turned out wonderfully, but I can't take credit."

This was not the pep talk Zuko was hoping for. "Sokka would have tried to break you out of prison by himself if I hadn't caught him. I threw my dad in prison when the war ended. I'm sure you did better than you think," he offered.

Hakoda smiled wryly. "Well, when you put it that way..." They shared a brief chuckle. "If you really want my advice, don't try to decide who your child is; they'll tell you. Just be there to help them grow and keep them safe. You're good at that," the chief grinned. That assurance was just enough to calm Zuko's frayed nerves. He had a boatload more questions, but they would have to wait.

"Fire Lord Zuko! It's time!"

"Thank you," Zuko whispered hastily as he headed back toward the front of the hut.

"Wake me when I'm a grandpa!" Hakoda called after him.

Katara's tired face lit up when Zuko returned. He dropped to her side and held her hand. "Ready?" He asked.

His wife squeezed his hand and groaned as a contraction seized her. "Whether I am or not, he's coming!"

Zuko squeezed her hand back and kissed her forehead. "I can't wait to meet him."

--------

Thank you so much for the prompt! Personally, I love the headcanon that Katara and Zuko's (first) child is a girl and Zuko is an iconic girl dad, but I thought this would be a great opportunity to explore his anxiety around the possibility of a son due to his relationship with Ozai.

[matchibee]

Go To Hell

I haven't written any fanfics in so long... consider this my official retirement from retirement!

In other news, i've been rewatching My Hero Academia, I feel the need to crank out some guilty pleasure ideas that've plagued my mind

please consider: Bakugo + Fake Dating, because I can (I will write this for more characters if literally one person asks)

"You're insane."

Never in your life did you think the time would come where you truly believed Katsuki Bakugo to have gone mad. For all his brutish, abrasive outbursts, this was the moment where you truly believed he'd taken a turn for the worst.

"Fuck off," Bakugo dismisses, clicking his tongue. You don't miss the way his gaze avoids your own, the way he seems to speak softer despite the attitude clawing at his throat.

You suddenly realize perhaps this isn't as far-fetched as you'd initially believed. You do your best to meet his gaze, your eyes flickering against his vermilion for only a moment. "Bakugo... You're not seriously taking me up on a joke, are you?"

"Hell no! That's such a dumb idea! Why would I ever fake being your boyfriend of all people!"

His words sting just a bit. You know good and well he doesn't mean it, this is just his personality, the way he deflects as to not let people into the intricacies of his mind. But you've been around the blonde long enough to know exactly what he means, even if he'll never outwardly say it.

You decide to have a bit of fun with it...

Exaggerating exasperation, you lean over the front of your desk. The summer sun glitters against your skin just right, its scorching heat a reminder that graduation is imminent.

"I suppose it's not the worst idea I've ever had... I could ask someone else... I don't wanna embarrass myself after hyping myself up to my aunt, after all..." You hum, tapping your finger against your chin, feigning as though you were surveying the room for options.

You begin listing off the names of potential bachelors. Todoroki, Sato, Kaminari, Sero, Iida...

Your mind settles on an individual in particular, one you know will leave the blonde's skin crawling in disgust.

"Think Midoriya would mind? He's a sweetheart, my family would adore-"

Bakugo responds quicker than your heart can beat.

"I'll do it."

"Do what?"

He clicks his tongue again. It's a habit you've grown to expect.

"I'll fake being your shitty boyfriend or whatever, just... Don't even think about asking that idiot..."

You seem to have struck a nerve, and while you should feel bad for manipulating Bakugo's ego, you know he wouldn't hesitate to do the same.

"Really!?" Your relief is palpable, like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. "You're amazing, Bakugo, I mean it! I didn't mean for the joke to hold so much meaning but I'm glad it's you!"

"But!" His sudden addition has you taken aback, there's no telling what he'll conjure in that wickedly clever mind of his. "I'm only doing this on one condition."

You fall back into your seat.

"Shoot."

"Why me?"

Out of everything he could've possibly asked, this surely wasn't something you'd considered.

"Why pick me first out of everyone here?"

You suddenly regret every word you'd uttered.

"Do you want my honest answer?"

Of course he did. From the moment the two of you had first grown acquainted your interactions had been built upon a mutual honesty. Bakugo wasn't one to shy away from speaking his mind, and when paired against someone with the same tendency for truthfulness, it was like a match made in heaven.

"You know me better than anyone, Bakugo. It wouldn't make sense for me to ask someone else, not when you're around."

He nods his head. That's all he needed to hear.

The blonde pinches your cheek, amused as you attempt to fight back. "Look at you being all sentimental and shit."

You push his hand away, his warmth like a campfire on an autumn evening. He smells of smoke and ash, the effects of this morning's practical still lingering on his skin.

In a moment of split-second decision making, he takes the hand you used to push him away into his own, fingers entangling as though designed to fit together perfectly. You remain this way for a minute, basking in the way it feels to be this innocently intimate.

"What are you-"

"If we're gonna do this, we might as well get acquainted with the proximity, right? Otherwise they'll see right through our act."

One thing about Bakugo, he'll never do anything half-assed. Any and every task will be given its all.

You do your best to keep the smile from creeping upon your lips, fighting the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"When's the wedding?" He asks.

"We have a week to get our act together." You respond.

"Couldn't have made this any more last minute, huh?"

In truth, you liked it this way.

Your crush on Bakugo has plagued your mind since the beginning of your second year. At first you'd believed him to be nothing more than an egocentric asshole - not that it mattered much, he'd always treated you as an equal - but as time ticked on you grew to admire him; his drive, determined to vanquish any and all obstacles built before him. It was only natural you'd develop feelings for him. I mean, who hadn't right?

You've had your fair share of run-ins with his secret admirers, students from across the school who wanted a glimpse into the life of the student they both loved and feared.

You remember telling Bakugo about them, their questions, and the visceral reaction he'd had in response to the information.

"They ever corner you like that again, let me know, I'll send them to an early grave."

His words were the very reason you knew not to take this favor lightly. The imminent hero wouldn't willingly align himself with just anyone, regardless of its validity. He'd made a point to surround himself with the best of the best, including you.

"Think we can pull this off?"

You feel as though you've hallucinated the faintest smile on his face, Bakugo's thumb rubbing the back of your hand as though it was instinct.

"You wouldn't have asked me if you had any doubts."

[chuubian]

Kinktober week two:

Hot To Go!

Tags Boothill x fem saloon maid reader, his dick vibrates, drinking, semi-public

Summary A handsome cowboy walks into the saloon without any credits. Before you can kick him out and report him, he offers to pay another way.

The loud screeching of old hinges draws your attention out of your work and to the front door. A weird looking cowboy comes in. He's completely made of steel except for his pale face, it's like nothing you've ever seen before. His heavy boots bang against the decaying slabs of wood flooring, then he sits at the bar, staring silently— waiting for you to service him. Putting the glasses and rag down, you head over to him.

“Hello sir, what can I get you?”

“A double tequila, darlin’.”

You raise an eyebrow. That's it?

“Just tequila? nothing else?”

“I can handle it.”

You shrug, walking back to grab him a glass, pouring in two shots of the clear liquid and sliding it in front of him. He grins— sharp teeth taking you by surprise. Did he purposely sharpen his teeth? The man reaches for his glass, tossing it back and drinking the straight liquor easily. You cringe just watching him.

“You seriously drink like that in the middle of the day?”

“Oh it’s nothin’… ‘s like water to me.”

Nose scrunching in disgust, you recoil at the thought of it. It's like 2 pm who in the world would think to drink this. He chuckles at your expression, sitting up and leaning forward— cheek leaning onto his cold, metal fist.

“Shouldn't you be glad I'm here, darlin’? Good for business, isn't it?”

He looks around the empty room.

“I'm the only one here, that's money you wouldn't have made otherwise.”

So that's how he sees it huh…

“Then it's 30,000 credits.”

He pauses, eyes widening. The clanging of iron sounds through the room as he sits up straight.

“Ain't that a bit expensive, sweetheart?”

You cross your arms.

“That's the set price. If you're saying you can't pay, then I'm gonna have to get the sheriff over here.”

That seems to astound him. He immediately starts fussing, leaning over the bar to try and calm you down.

“Now, now dear… We don't gotta go that far! come on, I'm in town all the time, you know me right?”

“No i don't, I've never seen you here. I don't even know your name.”

Clunky metal fingers run through his black and white hair as he puts his hat down on the counter in front of him.

“Boothill. See? now you know me.”

“If you don't pay, I'm calling the sheriff over here. I'm not kidding.”

Sharp nails dig into the wooden counter— he leans back, thinking of ways to deescalate the situation.

“Why don't we find some other way to repay you huh? We don't need to get law enforcement involved in somethin’ so small right?”

You consider it. It's not like your boss would know anyways, it wasn't even that much alcohol.

“What do you have in mind?”

—————-

The wind gets knocked out of your lungs as Boothill drags his rough tongue over your clit. His sharp metallic claws dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, trying to keep your unruly hips still. A choked whine gets caught in your throat as he sucks harshly on the sensitive little nub— it's like barbed wire has been wrapped around your throat, constricting any sound that may escape.

“Aghh… f-fuck!”

The only response from him is a harsh bite to your inner thigh, before he dives back in. He's like a man starved, consuming you completely. A hot wet tongue makes its way down to your entrance, teasing and taunting, with the intention of pushing in.

Your fingers thread through his long, black and white patterned hair— pulling, out of necessity to keep your peace of mind. Boothill slips inside and an embarrassing squelch echoes through the empty saloon.

“Don't move.”

He warns, holding you up against the old bar. Practically all your weight is leaning on his kneeling form— your legs were trembling terribly, struggling to hold up properly. Gummy walls squeeze around his tongue, gushing out more slick. He lets out a low moan, enjoying the slightly bitter taste.

“Sooo good…”

His words slur together. One of his fingers finds its way up to your puffy, abused clit, drawing little circles. Sparks flash behind your eyes and guttural moans bubble past your lips.

“Nghh… B-boothill!”

This only seems to encourage him more. He drags his tongue back out of your entrance. Your pussy feels empty without him, clenching around nothing— already becoming used to the force against your walls. Tugging him closer, you grind your cunt down onto his lips, trying to get more. That's all you need, just a little more.

“Needy, huh?”

He chuckles, lips wrapping around your over sensitive clit, sucking and licking at it harshly. You double over, stomach and thighs tensing from need and overwhelming pleasure. His steel palms feel surprisingly warm against your skin, gently caressing instead of digging in like before.

“Mmmf..! O-oh god Boothill!”

Eyes watering, back arching, grasping and pulling at his long locks, you finally come undone. A loud ringing resounds through your head, leaving your brain fuzzy and confused. You don't even process what's going on until Boothill’s bulky hands are turning you around, pushing your chest down onto the old wooden bar.

“You ready?"

Icy metal presses against you from behind. His grip on your hips is painful— he's sure to leave marks and bruises painted across your skin. You open your mouth to respond, but before any words leave your lips, he pushes in.

You keen high in the back of your throat as his hips sink home. Squirming, you try to adjust to his cock. It proves to be an impossible feat- especially when you abruptly feel the vicious whirr or his dick against your walls.

"W-waaiit-"

You only manage to utter a single word of protest. As soon as it leaves your mouth, Boothill pulls his hips back and slams back in. Controlling himself is inconceivable at this point. He sets a brutal pace, grinding cock up into you, nails biting into your flesh.

All you could do was whimper and wail in garbled mumbles. He didn't stop even for one second. Your back arched, as your face was smushed against the counter— dragging against the old wood, scratching your skin.

"Fuck. sweetheart...."

He trails off, lost in the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his vibrating cock. Leaning forward, he nips at the shell of your ear. The sting only amplifies the feeling of immense bliss. Your legs shake with effort— it was like nothing you've ever felt before. Drunk off the sensation of him working himself in and out, your cunt clutching onto him- trying to suck him in.

It's all too much. Your eyesight is blurring and a lump forms in your throat. The knot in the pit of your tummy is straining and tensing. Boothill buries himself deeper, pelvis striking against the supple flesh of your ass. His cock is carving out a space for itself, pulsating against your walls.

"Hnngh.. B-boothil..."

His strong hand leaves your hips, settling itself on your shoulder, keeping you down.

"That's right sweetheart. Just like that."

All the blood rushes to your head as his dick thrust into your sweet spot. Your body is boiling— overwhelmed and about to burst. He doesn't stop, taking enjoyment in seeing you struggle. Slick is dripping down your pussy to the junction between you and the ruthless man. Your mushy walls make way for him, surrendering under pressure. All you can hear is a loud buzz, as your body focuses on the euphoria it feels under his expert touch.

Incoherent babbles erupt from your lungs. Your hips twitch, fucking themselves back on his cock mindlessly. He's getting desperate. Shocking cold steel presses against your back as the vibrations spread through your entire body. The knot forming in your belly bursts and fire flows inside your veins. The heat is sweltering and mind boggling.

Nails claw against the splintering wood, frantic for any way to hold onto your sanity. Your throat burns, lungs heaving and wheezing, desperate for air. Sweat drips down your forehead, glistening under the bright sunlight shining through the window.

The tremors in your thighs simmer down and Boothill pulls away, massaging your poor exhausted legs.

"How was that?"

You struggle to answer, but he wasn't really looking for an answer anyways. He helps you clean up— wiping the sweat and slick off your skin, dressing you tenderly. Making sure you look just as nice as when he first came in before anyone else walks in.

[sweatyracoon]

Notes:

glad to finally start with this series. Its been on my mind for months! Hope you all enjoy, and if you have any ideas on the connecting parts, lmk!!

Warning:

Language, smut mentioned, fluff

You sighed as you walked to your local GameStop. It had just been too long since you've had a real connection, and you were desperate for anything.

Your friend who worked there had told you that they had a game donated that resembled a dating simulator, and that she set it aside for you. She did it mostly to tease you, but honestly, you really needed this.

You didn't know if it was truly a dating game or not, but you couldn't care less at the moment.

You came in, grabbed it, and paid.

You rushed home after stopping for lunch, starting your PC. You let it warm up while you showered and changed into your lounge clothes, rubbing your temples at the bright light in the dark room.

Your computer ate the disc, accepting it just as well as you did. The loading screen appeared, and you watched the sphere spin.

It seemed to last hours before you finally heard a ping.

It's done loading!

You quickly clicked the icon, watching the screen fall black before switching to a pale blue.

As it drifted to the logo,you noticed how it looked extremely pixelated but in a 90's Mario game way.

The title read, 'Stray Kids: Together'

Some clouds jumped in the background, the Play and Settings buttons appearing after a few seconds.

You admired the pastel aesthetic before moving your cursor to click on Play.

Gently clicking on your mouse, it sent you to yet another clouded screen with a small sunset.

Logs set 1

>Bangchan Last opened ?

>Lee Know Last opened ?

>Changbin Last opened ?

>Hyunjin Last opened ?

What type of names are these? You thought.

You noticed that each one didn't have a date log, so you were unsure if they were even opened yet.

Curious, you clicked the first name.

Then, your computer crashed.

You scoffed, cursing the damn old seeming cartridge. The pixels in the opening screen made it seem like it was made in the 90's, but the labeling date was scratched off so you didn't really know.

You were about to shut off your computer before the screen boosted, a light gray flickering against the screen.

You weren't sure what was happening before you saw the command,

Allow microphone access?

> Yes No

You clicked yes.

Allow camera access?

> Yes No

You clicked yes again, and that was when you heard a click, and then the spinning of a disc.

"Hello?"

You heard a voice from nowhere. You bristled, turning around to look in your room. Was someone here?

"Over here,"

Your head whipped back to the screen, only to be met with the most prettiest guy you had ever seen.

"Woah," you mumbled.

He grinned.

"What's your name?" He asked again. Did he have an accent?

"Y/n. You're...Bangchan?" You ask, pulling your chair closer to the desk.

"Your a quick learner,"

You blinked. What now?

"So...are you like an AI? Or, like, how are you speaking to me?" You question, resting your arm on your hand.

His eyes widen. "Uhh, I'm not actually sure. Honestly, I feel real, but I'm not? I don't know if that helps?" He cleared his throat. "But what I do know is that you need someone. You wouldn't be here otherwise,"

"How would you know that?" You jolt. He was spot on.

"I know what I was created for. We all do,"

Wait what?

"Who's we?"

He smiled, his eyes turning into crescents. So beautiful

"You saw the other names, right? There are more of us...more of me," He explained slowly. "Here I was thinking you were a quick learner,"

"Hey!" You both laughed at his comment, then you sighed.

"So, are you all the same? Just look different? What's the deal?"

He spinned, the back of his neck revealing a code. CB97

"No, we are all incredibly different. We couldn't be the same even if we wanted. Different code. I'm the first, so they consider me like...a big brother? We all serve different purposes for whatever you need," he scratched his head, and his hair moved so smoothly.

It was then that you realized that the screen was no longer pixelated like the opening screen, it was now hd, smooth. You could almost see his pores.

"Different purposes? What the hell does that mean, Chan?" You let it slide past, not realizing.

"Chan?" His eyes glistened. "I like it," he grinned, watching your face heat up.

"Purposes Chan," you remind quietly, twirling a piece of your hair.

"Right. Well me, I'm a comforter. I help you when your stressed. Lee know? He's kinda...sexual? He can help with those needs, but he can comfort too. Uhh Changbin, he's more of an amuser. Hyunjin, a relaxer and comforter. Han? He can do literally everything. He's the ace of the group. Felix, comfort. Seungmin? Amuser and sexual. Jeongin, all. You know?"

It was a lot to take In. You didn't even know what half of this meant. At least not yet.

"So if I were horny-" he cut you off.

"Han, Lee Know, Seungmin or Jeongin are your guys." He said, his eyes staring into your own.

You felt yourself flush.

"Are they all as pretty as you?" You whisper, making his face freeze.

"Uh, they are, if not prettier, y/n," he gently smiles, placing his hand flat against the screen.

"You couldn't help me?" You brought your own palm to rest against his, only to be met with a cold surface.

"I wasn't given that programming. If you need help, just log out and meet with one of the others," he explained, his eyes tracing your hand, almost as if to memorize it.

"Oh," was all you could say. "I'm okay, for now," you say with a cheeky smile, making him chuckle.

"Good to hear. You tired yet? It's dark," he asked, making you blink. You turned to look out your window.

Holy shit, it's dark!

"Oh my god i work tomorrow!" You curse yourself, jumping up from your chair.

You heard Chan laughing in the background.

"Can I jump on tomorrow?" You asked him after cleaning up a bit.

"You don't need to ask, y/n. We're yours!" He gleemed, his eyes shimmering in the light.

"Mine..." You repeat. You never really thought if it that way.

"Yes, y/n. Completely and utterly yours. I'm sure the rest will fall for you just as I did," he said.

You looked at him.

"How does a computer fall for me?" You were baffled at this point. What did he mean?

"This computer was coded with feelings," he grinned. "Goodnight, y/n!"

You didn't get to respond before he disappeared.

You were kicked to the opening screen, the pixelated clouds taunted you as they jumped up and down.

You absolutely felt so lucky to have found this game.

Connection found. Now you just need to pursue all eight men.

Tag list: @estella-novella @deadpool15

[httpiastri]

first of all CONGRATS ON 3K!! 💗😫 I've loved your Pepe work and I'm so checking out your other works 😭💗

saw the 3k celly and I couldn't resist myself 👉👈

how do we feel about a small Pepe blurb with the touch starved prompt: "one just casually sitting down on the other's lap and they start internally freaking the hell out" ??

furthermore,, could it be the reader being the one that is touch starved and Pepe just casually grabs em and sits them on his lap and is the reader the one freaking out?? 🤭

🍈 – send me a driver and a prompt from this list of hugging prompts, these touch starved prompts, or these kiss prompts, and i will write a short blurb for you!!

author's note: thank you so much!! and im glad you like them aaa 🥺 i loved this idea !!!! but lol i thought a blurb was 500 words, not 100-200. still doesnt explain why this is 1.2k. 😶 i had time over on my flight so this (and the paul "blurb" ive got scheduled for later) was the result. hope u enjoy :)

3k celly !!

(college!)pepe marti x reader

there are a lot of fun ways to spend a free saturday evening.

but being squeezed into a room with a bunch of drunk students, with music so loud you can barely think? not one of them.

you had been about to refuse your friend's suggestion to tag along, as you always do, before she had uttered the magic words. pepe will be there.

you were already planning outfits in your mind when the words left her mouth, suddenly feeling like no piece of clothing you own is enough to impress him. how could any piece of clothing ever be good enough for someone like him?

disappointment, though no surprise, fills you when your friend leaves you the second you enter the apartment of some guy in her physics class, to search for that other guy she's been crushing on for weeks now. so, here you are, in the living room belonging to some student you don't know, being pushed around by students you also don't know, with some song that you've never heard blasting from the speakers.

thankfully, even in a crowded apartment like this one, it isn't hard to find pepe. the sound of his sweet, intoxicating laughter can be heard from miles away.

he's sitting on a couch in the corner of the room, red solo cup in one hand and phone in the other. he's showing something on his phone to his best friend christian who's sitting next to him, his giggles sending a wave of relief through your body.

pepe's eyes light up when they meet yours, a sliver of surprise in his smile as you make your way over to him. he says your name like it's what he was made to do, like no other words have ever fallen from his lips. "i almost didn't believe your friend when she told me you'd join her tonight," he tells you. "i'm surprised."

"i'm full of surprises," you answer, tilting your head to the side slightly.

"of course you are. like that dress, very surprising." that statement isn't very surprising in itself; your friend, ever the fashionista, noticed your stress over your choice of outfit for the night instantly, lending you one of her favorite dresses with the words you'll look adorable, he won't be able to stay away. but the fact that pepe has noticed you enough to at least in some way collect an idea of the types of clothes you would and wouldn't wear is surprising to send a shiver down your spine. "you look great."

you can't control the redness that threatens to spread across your cheeks at that, but your gaze shifts to the ground to at least lessen some of your flusteredness. pepe doesn't miss the gentle smile that makes its way onto your lips, though. christian understands this as his cue to leave, jumping out of his seat and bolting away in just a second. pepe taps the now free spot on the couch, and you slip down next to him without another thought.

"did you get to the kitchen already?" he asks, gaze burning into the side of your face as you pretend like fixing the hem of your dress is something you actually need to do and not just a way to occupy yourself. "or do you want me to go get you something to drink?"

you shake your head, eyes flickering over to him again. "i'm alright for now, but thank you."

he nods over his cup, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip. the action has the muscles of his arm contracting and… has he always been this muscular, or is it just the light of the apartment? either way, he makes it look so casual – he probably doesn't know he's the object of your current mental assessment – as if the feeling of his jeans against your bare knee isn't distracting enough. "i'm glad you came," he says after he's lowered the cup. "the party was bound to be boring without you."

there it is again; that relief you felt earlier. a sliver of a confirmation that this thing that's been going on between you two these last few weeks isn't just one-sided. unless he's just toying with you, as you've heard certain men like to do, which doesn't exactly help soothe your worries.

but pepe isn't like that, you have to remind yourself. that's one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place; he's gentle in a way you can't credit a lot of men to being, like a mild breeze instead of a full-blown storm.

someone turns the music up even more, something you would've assumed was impossible a minute ago, as if to say you're thinking too much. fewer thoughts, please.

you take a deep breath, eyes meeting his. "i'm glad you're here, too."

"what?"

you let out a short laugh at the way his face contorts as he tries to hear what you're saying over the loud music. "i said," you start, voice growing louder. "i'm glad you're here, too."

pepe nods, though you're not sure if he actually understood or if he's just faking it, before saying something you have no chance of catching. you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head slightly and jokingly bringing a hand up to the back of your ear to hear him better. you did not expect him to lean forward, nor the warm huff of air that meets your ear when he speaks into it. "it's a little too loud, isn't it?"

you nod when he leans back to look at you, the corners of your lips tugging upward at the sight of his own smile. you shrug, trying to figure out a way to solve the issue; you came here to talk to him, not to just sit next to him all quietly because you can't hear each other. you gaze around the apartment, only to find a pair of speakers placed in about every corner of it, which brings back that disappointing feeling from when your friend left you just minutes ago.

but pepe has other plans. before you can interject, his hands find your hips and lift you up to straddle his thighs sideways. it's a swift motion, and he makes it seem like you weigh about five grams, leaving you pretty completely speechless. "i figured we'd hear each other better like this," he says, one hand reaching over to grab his cup again from where he must've placed it on a table nearby just moments ago, while his other hand stays planted on your hip. when you don't say anything, his eyes rake over your face, a hint of guilt in his expression. "sorry, is this okay?"

you take a deep breath, pushing the butterflies in your stomach away for just a moment and gathering the courage to nod. "yeah," you say, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "i just… wasn't expecting that."

the chuckle he lets out vibrates through your body, too. "well, get used to it." that damn smile of his appears again, the one you just can't stop yourself from mimicking. "i like having you close."

as his hand slips past your hip and around your waist, you allow yourself to lean into him a little, impressed by the way you find yourself enjoying your new seat very much.

impressed by the way it feels like this seat was made just for you.

[petew21-blog]

Teen Wolf swap, What are you doing uncle?

Stiles:"Are you listening? I said we should lay low for a while before Scott gives us any more instructions. I know you like to do things your own way, but if your uncle can't find you, it's safer for us all. So being in our old cabin far from Beacon Hills shouldn't be so suspicious."

Derek stares at Stiles, observing his new surrounding, Now noticing his bare arms, wearing a tank top and jeans.

Stiles:"Earth to Derek. You ok?"

Derek stares now directly at Stiles. "Are you talking at me?"

Stiles:"You see any other Dereks around?"

Derek looks back at his hairy arms. "I need to use the bathroom" he says and rushes out of the room.

Stiles:"Sure. I bet you didn't pay attention to a single word I said before."

Derek entered the bathroom. Breathing heavily, he looked into the mirror. He couldn't believe his eyes. It is true. Stiles wasn't hallucinating, he wasn't as well.

His new mouth turned into a smile as he realised what this meant. "Hello there, NEPHEW. Looks like, we'll be getting pretty close now". Peter immediately took off his tank top and started flexing at himself.

"Wohooo. Looking good. Nice guns, Derek. Or should I say, I have nice guns?" he flexed for a while, while inspecting his new face. The nose, his beard, his beautiful young and healthy teeth. And then he moved over to his chest and abs. His body wasn't bad at all, but being his much younger nephew had its perks.

"Let's see what we're working with" his hand reached the zipper of his jeans

Suddenly, there was a banging on the door. "You ok there, Derek?"

Fuck, this kid... "Can't you leave a man finish his bussiness?"

Stiles:"Oh, sorry. I thought... Ok, I'm just glad you're ok."

An mischievous idea popped into Peter's mind. Who knows for how long they're gonna be swapped. He should definitely use the opportunity and get some information.

He emerged from the bathroom and returned to the dusty living room. Stiles sat there on the sofa, watching his every step.

Stiles nervously:"Ok, so... there is no reception, meaning we won't know if Scott finished everything or even have anything else to do."

Peter came closer towering over Stiles. "What's your point?"

Stiles:"There isn't much to do to be honset. So... we could, talk? To make the time pass"

Peter felt as if he could do anything now. Being hot, young and also Derek made him feel unstoppable. Let the chaos begin.

Peter walked over to the fridge hpoing he would find something to drink. He found few cans of beer, took 2 and returned to Stiles.

He pushed a chair right in front off Stiles and sat down. He handed him the beer and opened his own while sitting down on the chair comfortably. Stiles couldn't believe what was happening, Derek seemed so relaxed now, so confident. "Ehm, I don't think I wanna drink tonight"

Peter:"You said we should talk, so let's talk. And like two true men, we'll drink beer while talking." he smiled back at him, but his eyebrows and piercing eyes made Stiles feel so small

Stiles took a sip and started talking nervously about one of his favourite TV shows. Peter took off his shoes and shoved them on Stiles's lap. Stiles look down at those two smelly feet right on his thighs. "What...?"

Peter:"Take them off"

Stiles was scared. Derek has never done something out of character like this, but at the same time he was thrilled to see this new side of him. And his feet... Stiles took off the black socks, revealing large feet with some hair present.

Peter:"Smell them"

Stiles:"Derek... I don't wa..."

Peter:"That wasn't a question." he said and sipped his beer again, while watching Stiles's movements

Stiles nervously obeyed and too a long whiff off Derek's feet. Although the scent was strong, he liked it. It smelled like Derek, but much stronger

Peter:"Now, lick them"

Stiles:"This isn't hygie..."

Peter:"Stiles. Do as I said"

Stiles was extremely horny right now. He prayed that Derek wouldn't feel the boner below his feet. He took Derek's left feet and licked the base of it. It tasted strange. Stiles didn't really have a feet fetish, but being ordered like that made him feel so horny. He made his way with his tongue around the foot, until he got to the fingers. Then he took his hand and started massaging it as well.

Derek's body suddenly got up above Stiles. Unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans. Stiles only looked above into his eyes, waiting what would come now

Derek was so beautiful fro below. He looked so dominant from this point of view.

Derek whipped out his hard cock into his face. It was so massive. Just as Stiles suspected. He was so hairy below the waiste.

Stiles couldn't believe what was happening. He was about to suck Derek, fucking DEREK's DICK. He took his hands and raised them to grab a hold of it

He caught a glimpse of Derek's face, noticing how entertained he looked

Peter:"Go on, suck it!"

Stiles licked his lips and put that dick inside of his mouth. He started going real fast, not so deep at first, but slowly making his way.

Derek's body lowered to Stiles's level, pulling out the dick from Stiles's mouth

Derek started kissing him passionately. Stiles couldn't let go. He felt Derek's hand grabbing his dick tightly in his briefs. "Where is Scott?"

Stiles:"You really wanna talk about Scott now?"

Peter:"Where is he?"

Stiles:"He went to get the others, he left Beacon Hills for now"

Peter smiled, realising what it meant. An opportunity for him. "Good. Turn around"

Peter pushed him on the ground, getting behing him. He pulled down Stiles's jeans just enough to penetrate him. He spat on his new dick a few times and pushed it in.

Stiles screamed in pain

Derek's body laughed. "Now tell me your father's safe code"

Stiles:"Ahhhh, slow down please. It hurts"

Peter:"Say it!!!"

Stiles:"8...9...3....0"

Peter pushed even more and went faster

Stiles's moans of pain turned into pleasure real soon. The breathing, the pain, the sounds of his ass being pounded by Derek. All euphoric

He heard as Derek's breath went faster and soon after he felt something warm inside of him

Derek's body laughed. "Thanks for the info, kid. I owe you"

Stiles didn't understand what that meant, but Derek's body went quiet for a moment. But after a few seconds it got really angry

"WHAT THE FUCK, STILES?!?"

Stiles:"Derek?"

Derek:"Who else, you dickhead?"

Derek pulled out off Stiles's ass and collapsed next to him

Stiles carefully asked:"So... who did I just got fucked by if not by you?"

Another anonymous request from Inbox

Could you maybe do a story where Peter Hale steals Derek’s body? Maybe even seducing Stiles who enjoys “Derek”’s new more dominant and cocky attitude.

[champagnefountains]

So...Alastor went missing for a while after the extermination right? Would you be open to a story where the reader is taking care of Al after he gets back? Maybe still a little mad at him for vanishing, more worried about him being hurt...just the fall out that comes from not knowing if he was alive or not? Your first Lucifer story was wonderful!! You really have a solid foundation for this and I'm excited to see more from you!!

Aw, thank you so much! I'm really, really glad you enjoyed the Lucifer story! And omg, I love this idea...I live for angst so here's some more~!

ALASTOR - H.H.

A/N: They probably were able to rebuild the entire hotel in less than a day, but just to make it more dramatic, I made Alastor's disappearance two days long. Also, I'm not exactly too happy with the pacing here...so I apologise in advance ;-;

Word count: 2.8k+ words (I need to control myself...also unedited, sorta). Genre/other tags: Angst with good ending. OOC Alastor (I think?...sorry...). Warnings: Cursing. Mentions of blood. Talk about loss/death.

After the cancellation of this year’s extermination and Hell's victory against Heaven’s forces, Charlie and the team had spent the next couple of days repairing the damages caused. The team’s morale was as high as ever as they busied themselves reconstructing and making significant renovations to the hotel, their spirits brightening at the prospect of the potential influx of evil-doers to their establishment. There was no doubt that the hotel’s popularity had boomed, as there wasn’t a single soul in Hell that didn’t know about their contribution towards the annual culling. 

However, there was one thing that had been plaguing your mind since the end of the bloodshed: Alastor's whereabouts. Everyone, including yourself, knew that the Radio-Demon was more than capable of looking after himself, considering his high-regarded reputation in all the Nine Circles. However, it’s been two days since the battle and there wasn’t a single trace of him anywhere. And as his significant other, it bothered you to no end. And it wasn’t like you could call him either – Alastor strictly refused to use a mobile phone or any electronic device, no matter how much you pried. He didn’t even make any attempts to reach out to you, whether it be from your own portable radio that he gifted you, or even a small note or letter. Absolutely nothing.

Currently, the hotel has just completed its final transformation with big thanks to Lucifer and Charlie's magical powers and sorcery. With your distress multiplying with every passing second, you couldn't bring yourself to be as excited as the others. You silently excused yourself from the group by the main entrance, wandering off to the furthest side of the building and turning the corner. With a trembling sigh, you leaned against the wall, covering your mouth with your hands as a sob wracks through your body.

You hadn't felt as anxious as you were, in so, so long. It must've been the build up from the months-long preparations made to fend off Heaven to now, that had you overwhelmed. Yes, there was no doubt that Alastor was powerful, but he fought Adam head on – the very first man – which you were able to only catch minor glimpses of in the midst of battle. And that was probably the last time you saw him.

You didn't want to think about the possibility of loss. Because there's no way, right? ...Right? The others were also quick to reassure you plenty of times, sensing your growing unease with each passing day. But it did little to nothing to help ease your nerves. Preoccupied in your own despair, you failed to sense an approaching figure among the shadows.

"'Cher? What are you doing, hiding all the way down here?" A static-like voice called out, causing you to stiffen, "you should be celebrating with the others! You wouldn't want to miss out on such an exciting time!" Eyes widening, you swiftly pivoted yourself to face them. Low and behold, the source of your worries stood before you, all in one piece, smiling down at you with his usual Cheshire-like grin.

"...Alastor?" You weakly called out. Your wavering tone caused the Overlord to raise a brow, mild confusion taking over him. "Yes, my dear?" He asks with a tilt of his head. But it wasn't until he took a closer look at your distressed features that his expression softened a faction. "Darling, you're upset...why are you crying?"

Despite your immense relief, you couldn't help but send him a baffled look. "Wha-Why am I crying? Are you serious, Al?" You spat back incredulously. "You've been gone for two days! Two days! And I didn't know where or-or how you were! Can’t you even imagine how I must've felt when I couldn't find you after the fight?” Alastor only blinked at your sudden outburst. “And you don't even think to tell any of us where you've gone off to! I thought...I-I thought..." Your voice died down as a sob threatened to leave your throat. "I-I thought you were gone."

"Oh, dear, don't be silly," Alastor softly chuckles, fixing his monocle, "it'll take more than those pesky, little angels to get rid of me!" His lanky legs strided towards you, his head shaking in mild amusement. He stops just before you, leaning forward to pat your head reassuringly. Sniffling, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around his waist, burying your head into his chest. It gave you the reassurance you wanted and needed – it was proof that he was here with you, physically. However, the action unexpectedly causes Alastor to stiffen. You furrow your brows, lifting your head to send him a questioning look.

"...Al? Are you okay?" You worriedly ask, slowly unwrapping yourself to inspect him. Usually, Alastor didn't mind whether you initiated physical contact and vice versa, especially considering that you had been together for a while now. You then glanced behind him and your surroundings in caution – there didn't seem to be anyone watching either, knowing that he wasn't as fond of PDA. 

As you pan your eyes towards his face, you were surprised to see a tensed expression. "N-Nothing to worry about, darling," he says through a forced smile, waving his hand dismissively before sharply pivoting himself the other direction. "Now, shall we go join the others now? They're probably wondering where we've both gone!" Nonchalant, he begins walking off with his hands crossed behind his back. That was...strange. Something was clearly wrong, you think to yourself.

"Al, wait!" You jog towards him, passing and stopping him in his tracks. "Is...is there something wrong?" You worriedly ask. "I just...I feel like you're not telling me something. I-If I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

You felt your words die in your throat as a noticeably large, wet patch began to form against his dress shirt. You let out a startled gasp. "Wha–you're‐you're bleeding!" You cry in panic, hands raising and twitching in front of you with uncertainty. His expression darkening, Alastor stubbornly shook his head, gently pushing you aside by the shoulder, "Like I said, it's nothing to worry about. It's not but a small scratch! I'll be fine, dear–"

"No, you're not fine!" You interjected, eyes blurring in tears and wavering. Your hands shook as you gawked at the growing stain on his shirt. At that, you didn't miss the way Alastor's lips twitched in presumed pain, as small beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. Gritting your teeth, you reach out to grab his wrist, preparing to pull him towards the hotel's entrance. "Come on, Al. W-We need to get you cleaned up–" A firm squeeze in your hand stopped you in your tracks as you turned back to face him, distressed.

"[Name]. I said I'll be fine," he sternly says, his voice contorting in static. Despite the sinister grin he displayed, it left you unfazed. You pinched your brows and balled your fists in frustration, staring at him in disbelief. "...What the hell is wrong with you?" You hiss at the deer-demon, "You're clearly not fine–you wouldn't be fucking bleeding right now if you were fine!"

Alastor clicked his tongue, "Darling, you're exaggerating too much, don’t you think? You don't need to fret—"

"Shut up! I-I don't give a damn who you think you are! Strong Overlord or not, I'm worried, okay?! I-I'll always be worried about you!" Angry tears began pouring from your eyes. "I was scared for my life when I didn't hear from you the past few days! I didn't know what happened to you–if you were okay or even alive! I-I couldn't even get a single blink of sleep last night, so don't fucking tell me to not worry!" Alastor's egotistical and prideful personality was not news to you and everyone else – you knew how stubborn he could be, and now was no exception. It was absolutely infuriating.

Alastor's grim expression eased at your growing distress, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as he watched you messily wipe your face. You took a brief moment to compose yourself, your breaths shaky and uneven. "Look, just–I don't want to argue right now, okay?" You hiccup, "i-if you don't want the other's seeing you like this, just...I-I don't know, teleport us inside the hotel somewhere. Just anything, so I can stitch you up properly."

Begrudgingly, Alastor manifested his microphone from thin air. He didn't have any room to argue with you here. He then softly taps the ground with the bottom of the stand twice, casting a group of black shadows from the ground. They surrounded you both in a circular-like motion, completely filling your sights with a black void. There was a brief gust of wind and it didn't take long until they dissipated, the both of you now standing in what was assumed to be your new shared room in the hotel – it was nearly identical to your previous one before the reconstruction, save for the new wallpaper.  

"Remove your shirt. I'll get the kit," you immediately order as you point at the bed, gesturing for him to sit. You then disappear into the bathroom for a brief moment, grabbing the small first-aid kit under the sink before returning to the bedroom. Alastor had already sat himself down the edge of the bed, his dirty button-up and coat neatly folded on the floor, and his chest bare. You grimaced as you eyed the massive, fresh gash across his scarred chest, that was somewhat tended to with poor stitching.

You let out a disapproving sigh. "I expected your patching to be a little better than this,” you comment as you set the kit beside him, taking out some gauze and alcohol. Alastor rolls his eyes. "It's not everyday you get struck by an angelic weapon, dear," he shoots back sarcastically. There was a small stagger in your movement, your jaw clenching as a deep frown settled on your lips. So it was because of Adam that he's in this state, you sourly think. You try to not let the thought affect you too much as you begin disinfecting his wound.

While you were fixing him up, the both of you remained in complete silence. You actively chose to ignore his piercing gaze in the meantime, which practically burned through your skull as you maintained your focus solely on his wound. Your earlier frustrations didn't seem to simmer down either, deciding to keep quiet to prevent another one-sided shouting battle. As much as you loved Alastor, his lack of understanding towards your concerns vexed you to no end. Because, hypothetically speaking, what if he had actually died during his fight against Adam? If his body went missing, you were never going to find the closure you needed and were probably gonna go on with your life not knowing of his whereabouts. Your life would've been completely miserable with the constant grieving. And like Alastor smartly said, it wasn’t everyday that he’d be fighting a divine opponent, so definitive defeat wouldn’t be completely off of the table despite being quite powerful himself. 

The mere thought brought fresh tears to your eyes, which you were quick to blink away. ‘No…there’s no point dwelling in the past and what-if’s,’ you reprimand yourself. Alastor’s here, after all. That's the only thing that matters right now. But regardless, you still remained upset.

After a while and now satisfied with your craft, you neatly applied a bandage around his chest and waist. "...Don't put too much pressure on it for a while," you quietly advised as you began packing the equipment away. You continued to ignore his gaze, knowing that you'd lose your composure if you were to look at him. Without sparing him a glance, you lazily chucked the kit by the bedside table and made your way towards the door. Shortly after, you left the room without another word.

You found yourself aimlessly walking on the balcony facing the bar, near the main entrance. There, you saw Charlie walking up the stairs adjacent from you, who was quick to catch your approaching form. "[Name], there you are! I was just looking for you!" She cheerily says, skipping towards you with excited steps. "Everything looks so, so amazing, can you believe it?! Oh, oh! We all saw Alastor, by the way! I told you he was going to be fine–erm, [Name]?" The Princess forced her banter to a halt upon spotting your swollen, red eyes.

"Hey, hey, what happened?" She softly asks, coming forth to rub your back. You open your mouth to speak but consciously stop to think your answer through. You knew not to speak a word of Alastor’s state at the moment, knowing it would desecrate his persona. So you decide to keep it short and vague. 

"Alastor and I...we, uhm…had a small fight," you briefly explain with a tight-lipped smile. Charlie’s eyes softened in understanding. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did...do you wanna talk about it?” She kindly offers, holding your hand. You shake your head, “It’s alright, Princess. I’ll be okay in due time.” You didn’t want to dampen the overall mood and atmosphere, after all the hard work and sweat shed for this very moment. “Well, I mean, if you’re sure…” she hesitantly replies, giving you another quick look-over. “Say, how about we get you cleaned up a little and we head down and join the others? It’ll help clear your mind a little bit, yeah?”  

Bless her heart, you think with a small smile. With a nod, Charlie dragged you to the nearby restroom, where you splashed your face with water and did minor touch-ups to look somewhat decent. Shortly after, you joined the others by the main lounge, who all cheered and welcomed you with open arms. All the while, your mind automatically wandered to Alastor, who you knew was dwelling somewhere within the hotel. 

After a couple hours of celebration, you all decided to retire for the night, exhausted from the day's work. Charlie had sent you off with a small hug, wishing you luck as you slowly made your way back to your room. You felt your heart thump loudly against your ears as you spotted your room number in the distance, which only intensified as you reached for the knob and opened the door.

With a deep breath, you entered the room and to your surprise, you found Alastor where you had left him. However this time, he was already in his night-wear and was comfortably sitting upright and against the bed frame, legs under the covers and reading some book. He made no effort to acknowledge your presence as he hummed a random, sweet tune, licking a finger to flick a page of the novel he was supposedly engrossed in. You didn't know what would've irked you more – the fact that he wasn't addressing you right now or alternatively, if he were to go on about his day in his usual chirpy-self, and not bring up what had happened. Reciprocating his behaviour, you wordlessly went to the bathroom to do your usual night routine and changed into a comfortable set of pyjamas. When you were done, you beelined towards your side of the bed, stiffly slipping under the covers with your back facing him and pulling the covers close to your face. 

The tension was dripping as the room filled with an uncomfortable silence. You unconsciously found yourself pacing your own breaths, as if you were worried that you were breathing a sound wave too loud. You also didn't move a single inch from your spot, remaining stagnant like a statue. It remained that way for a short while, unable to find a single blink of sleep or tiredness, just as you did the past couple days.

“Darling, I know you’re awake…” Alastor says, finally breaking the silence as he shuts his book with a soft thud, placing it by the bedside table. There was a brief pause, as if he was waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t. You listen intently in silent anticipation as you dug yourself further into your pillow.

“I…I wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. It wasn’t in my intentions to upset you,” he continues, “I didn’t mean to carelessly dismiss your concerns the way I did. I understand that you’re merely worried for me. After all, if had it been you in my place instead, I would’ve acted the same way, if not more. And I’m sorry for troubling you these past few days. It was due to my carelessness that made you disregard your own health and caused you so much distress. With that, I want to express my utmost gratitude to you for looking after me despite it all. I…I hope you can forgive me, darling.” 

It was simple and straight to the point. And yet, his words struck a chord with you, causing a new onset of tears to flow and dampen the bed sheets. Alastor wasn’t one to easily admit his faults and apologise the way he did, so his words had so much of an impact on you. Though you had your own few questions to ask him, you suppose that this was enough for the time being as you didn’t want another day to go by, remaining in conflict with each other. You turn yourself to face him, sitting up and tearfully looking up at him. Silent, Alastor looked back down at you in a hopeful manner, his usual grin on his face. “O-Of course, I forgive you,” you quietly replied as you carefully hugged his side, “I-I just…I want you to look after yourself better. I-I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself if I had lost you then.” 

Huffing in relief, he softly snickers into your hair, running one of his claws through its strands. “Like I said, you won’t lose me, my dear. I’ll even wreak havoc across all of Hell to get back to you,” he cheesily coos as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. You wetly chuckle at his remark, leaning into him closer. “That’s quite a huge commitment to make, Al. You promise you gonna keep your word for it?” you jokingly reply, playfully poking at his chest. Grin widening, Alastor boops your nose with a single digit, “that’s a guarantee, darling.” 

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 5 part 2

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

I was so looking forward to brighten this particular scene, it's the darkest yet and it's such a beautiful one it's a pity to miss even one detail

oh no lilia stop being so cute????

have you ever seen jen with a bigger smile? and she's quiet as usual, it's almost like more than the ride she's enjoying how much fun her friends are having. especially lilia, those two have been forming a bond that is equal parts bickering and a growing respect

I'm just glad alice had this moment of pure unadulterated joy before it came all crashing down

agatha is very, very quiet. despite never letting herself feel anything freely, she takes a moment to close her eyes and enjoy the beauty of it all

she looks back at rio, so sensual and confident

how can kathryn hahn convey so much with so little time? her breath catches at her sight. and then worry and fear take hold and she gives the tiniest shake of her head, as if she's forbidding herself to entertain any kind of thought about rio. she looks away. the blood moon behind her spells disaster

meanwhile billy is that kid who has the time of his life hanging out with the teachers during a field trip

I want to personally thank aubrey plaza for every acting choice she made as rio, but ESPECIALLY for this witchy laugh

(I just brightened the salem seven witch vomiting bees and it's actually pretty impressive! but I don't want to trigger any insect haters around here) (I love insects though so please talk to me about spiders if you want)

they couldn't get a good look at the cabin before rushing in and I couldn't either until now, do we know if it's something from Agatha's past? did she use to live there?

I'm salty that alice had to die in these stupid clothes

So. I think this trial is the most fucked up and humiliating yet. Billy knew nothing about jen except superficial facts, so he put her in a scenario that matched her work aesthetic, more of a personal insult than a wake up call (compare it with the broom lilia just made for her: roots and flowers, something that speaks about jen's work, beliefs and traditions.)

Alice's trial was entirely based on lorna, we know billy is a big fan so he ran with that concept creating something that really shook alice, and not in a good way. she was forced to sit in her dead mom's house and wear her clothes for god's sake. she took it as the Road wanting to teach her a lesson, when it was just a teenager with the grace and subtlety of a newborn puppy.

Now, agatha. billy doesn't know a thing about her because she's private to the point of paranoia. he has gathered that there's something in her past about a dead child and that's probably what makes her grumpy, so he... tried to make her talk to nicky. with a fuking oujia board. Despite having had his share of shock and trauma billy inevitably has a kid's point of view re: death, and even more so because he's functionally immortal. death is something that happens to other people, or far far away in the future. he thinks he's giving agatha much needed therapy, when he actually put a grown woman in child's clothes and made her relive her traumas for everyone to see.

btw I'm not in any way saying that the trials are bad writing. they are brilliant writing. they're just tragic and fucked up behind the funny exterior, just like agatha herself. sorry for the rant.

I mean I wouldn't be opposed to that. we could put billy back in a closet for a little while and get down and dirty with it. and ooh there's a little leaf on rio's shirt, I hadn't noticed it!

jen's retainer always SENDS me

agatha's face when she realizes it's her trial

agatha is irrevocably, eternally linked with death in all its forms

looks like rio is playing along and setting the scene, but she's also doing something more subtle that only agatha understands: she's provoking her, and it's becoming more personal and hurtful. she's testing and punishing more than she used to. she is growing angrier.

agatha wants to tell rio to fuck off but knows she deserves it. agatha is NOT happy to be in this trial for reasons that go beyond what everyone present (except rio) assumes, but she'll bite the inside of her cheeks until they bleed before she shows any of it

the way he says it with a straight face too (again, NO PUN INTENDED. forgive me joe, I would never)

oh great alice has only thirty minutes to live

everyone looks worried and on their guard, rio has her whole knife out, playing along. agatha is STILL trying to look cool and casual, it's painful to watch. girl is panicking, hard

meanwhile billy is always bringing a whole different energy, he's playing and having fun! think back to the second episode when they met lilia and then jen and alice for the first time. billy had no clue about the tension, the fear and hate between them and agatha. right now he's still more excited than scared. he's about to have a rude awakening.

do not taunt the spirits, AGATHA.

lmaooo. this motherfucker.

another moment when billy sounds chillingly cruel. being jigsaw without realizing it

I'm not pointing it out every time but whenever agatha does this with her arms she's really, really really nervous

what does agatha do when she's scared or overwhelmed? she puts on a show. like clockwork. and rio has already guessed what's about to happen

I really want to continue this so there will be more later today, stay tuned!

go to episode 5 part 3

[beartitled]

ur au inspired me alot so have this writings I made based off of ur evil cipher parents au...

Bill cipher was SUPPOSED to be a normal Euclidean. A normal triangle. Despite his color not being right and he was practically blind in his 2d world.

All he knew about his parents was that his mom was a lovely deep blue, and his father was a wonderous shade of red.

And he was okay with that.

Atleast he could stare at the stars as his mother's voice lulled him to sleep.

.. he swore he saw a group of stars moving… It looked weird, it was a line with a dip down at the back end, and what looked like a trapezoid(he believes that's what trapezoids look like, it was hard to see anyone else in the first place) on the front end.. it was unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

"Ma.. Some stars are moving…" Billy said, his voice a soft mumble.

"Billy, there's nothing there moving… I promise.." Billy's mom said, her voice silky smooth.

Billy hummed in reply, just watching the bundle of stars move in such an odd way.. then there was one that looked like one of the star shaped people he's somewhat seen, but it had a trail coming from the back. The two bundles paused, as if they were staring at him.

It was.. unnerving.

"Ma..?" Billy called quietly. There wasn't any reply. Mom must've left already.

Billy didn't want to bother her. So he just watched the two bundle of stars.. Until they got closer. They weren't stars.

They looks so weird.

He was scared- it was so scary- he suddenly wanted to be normal- to have an eye where it's supposed to be-

One of the giant things reached down and carefully scooped him up-- Billy gasped loudly as he was lifted up-- he could see so much MORE. He could see the two giant things he originally thought were stars.

They were.. 3D. He had thought no such things could exist!.

But if they were here, why did they pick him-- Was it because he could see them?

Billy whined softly, Glancing around nervously for some sort of escape. But there was none.

"Billy?" He heard his mom say, "Billyy? Where are you?"

Billy Desperately wanted to tell his mom he was still here- he just couldn't describe it.

"Mabel what do we do now-?" The first giant said, the one with the line and trapezoid thingy on the front on their forehead. The other had no markings, but he could tell that they were the star shaped bundle of stars.

"Just kill him- like.. like Grunkle Ford said.. to.." The star said.

The trapezoid with a line frowned, Shaking its head.

"I'm not gonna kill him, he's.. so small.."

"Then what?"

".. surely Grunkle Ford wouldn't mind if we take him home?"

Billy didn't understand what they were saying.

"BILLY??" Mom called out, much louder.

"I'm here, Ma." Billy replied. But mom didn't seem to hear him. So he tried saying it louder. "Here, Ma."

Still, nothing. Next thing he knew, he felt so odd, he didn't feel right.

He could move more. Everything wasn't hard to see, he could TURN.

..

"That was just a dream, Bill."

pls enjoy :3

Awwww thank you ❤️ Glad my comic inspired you to create this is so sweet 🥹

I love the atmosphere ✨ You can feel the unease 👀

Also MABEL?????? HOW ARE YOU SO BRUTAL? Don’t kill da baby D:

I know it’s a nightmare and it would be really fitting tbh (I think Bill would be paranoid/have anxiety about Pines now liking him) (if Pines have the memories present, there would be discomfort vibes between them)

But still

Mabel would never 😭 would she? 😭

Oh and 💥 this was Bill’s POV probably huh

Also forgot to mention it in part 3 💥

A person wrote a great short fanfic about how “normal” Bill would meet his parents (with a happy ending :D)

They didn’t want to share it publicly, I respect the decision so not tagging them

But just wanted to say that I really appreciate your fan works fellas 💕

It’s a delight to read your fanfics, makes me happy to know that people like my silly comic so much that they were inspired to create 🥹

[sh4nksslvt]

Where were you? I didn't know you existed.

Hello, I'll be your new follower. You have wonderful stories.

but I would like to request one please

Gol D. Ann oh Portgas D Anne oh simply Anne the younger blood sister of Ace Portgas and sworn sister of Luffy and Sabo

Unlike her siblings, she followed the path of her adoptive grandfather Garp and became a marine. Against all odds, with the help of Garp, who hid his identity. But she was assigned as a pupil of Admiral Akainu, who trained her severely (unaware that she was the daughter and sister of two pirates). With her great talent, and as Akainu's pupil, the young woman rose rapidly within the Navy, rising to the rank of Rear Admiral of the Fleet.

Nobody knew that the young woman they believed to be loyal to the navy fell into the clutches of love, and none other than a pirate, and not just any pirate, but one who is a friend of her brother, Marco the Phoenix.

After her brother Ace was captured by the Navy, her grandfather forbade her from visiting him in the jungles. He even somehow arranged for her to be assigned a special mission so she wouldn't participate in the execution. Or rather, so she wouldn't intervene, since Garp knew her well.

When Akainu attacked Luffy and Ace stepped in. A small figure wrapped in a large white cloak Was wearing a clown mask Stayed in the middle with a Haki-filled sword between Akainu's sword arm and Ace's back She was able to briefly stop the enormous blow of power, using everything she had and managed to knock Akainu back a couple of steps But sacrificing her swords and mask The boys, upon seeing who it was, froze when they recognized her Ace An Luffy sister Anne didn't say anything, her eyes were on Akainu, she knew he shouldn't let his guard down Although he also seemed somewhat confused As did the other pirates nearby and a certain blond man who was covering his face with his hand Anne, idiot, that's a terrible way to block it, you almost ruined everything. You still haven't learned Haki by looking at his brothers. Approaching and kicking them hard, they landed right in Jimbe's arms. That's your way out, Sea Knight Jimbe. No, wait, Anne, the boys shouted as Jimbe started running again.

Akainu looked at the young woman, disappointed. While Anne wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her lips, The traitorous Akainu prepared to attack Anne, but before that, Whitebeard attacked him. Anne's hands were still shaking from holding the swords so tightly. She gave up on the rest, feeling dizzy. But before she could fall, Marco held her.

Marco Anne, idiot Anne, calm down, it's fine. Order the retreat. Then you'll discipline me, looking at her lover with a smile.

Please excuse me for bothering you. I'm sure you can make something of that information and create a great story that humiliates Akainu, saves Ace, and makes Anne and Marco fall in love. I can give you a little gift if you want

thank u for the compliments! im glad u like my works, also thank u and no need for gifts but i appreciate it either way! <3 here u go! its not well written but, i hope u like it! 😅

Where the Fire Lives

In the chaos of Marineford, Anne risks everything — her life, her duty, her heart — to save the brothers she swore to protect.

Marco the phoenix x female oc

tags: slight angst, soft, sfw, ooc, near-death experience, platonic bonds, hidden identity, happy ending, oc, bl00d/v!olence

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 3.3k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The sun was merciless in Marineford as Rear Admiral Anne stood at perfect attention, her fists behind her back, posture drilled into her over years of Akainu's brutal training. Her dark navy coat fluttered slightly in the sea breeze, the crimson sash at her waist marking her as a Rear Admiral. Her name—simply "Anne"—was carved into the records of the Marines as one of its youngest rising stars, a combat prodigy in the mold of Garp the Hero.

Everyone knew she was Garp’s adoptive granddaughter. But no one knew she was the daughter of Gol D. Roger, or the blood sister of Portgas D. Ace. And only a precious few knew that when she vanished from Marineford for a week every few months, she was disappearing into the arms of Marco the Phoenix.

“Rear Admiral Anne,” came a sharp voice behind her.

She didn’t need to turn to know it was Sakazuki—Admiral Akainu.

“Reporting, Admiral,” she answered smoothly.

“You’ve been assigned to eliminate the remnants of the Valkor Pirates in West Blue,” Akainu growled, his boots echoing on the stone dock. “I want their ship sunk. No survivors.”

Anne internally winced, knowing Capone Valkor’s crew was more bark than bite these days. But she nodded. “Understood, Admiral.”

Akainu narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t disappoint me, girl.”

She didn’t flinch. “I never do.”

“Anne!”

She barely dodged the flaming cannonball that tore through the mast behind her.

“Geez, Valkor’s boys are still this reckless?” she muttered, haki flaring around her fists.

In under five minutes, she dispatched the entire crew—most of whom leapt overboard after she shattered the deck with a single haki-charged stomp.

A call came through her Den Den Mushi as she stood triumphantly among the wreckage. “Mission complete. All enemies neutralized.”

“Very good, Rear Admiral~” came the smooth, amused voice of Borsalino—Admiral Kizaru. “Though you might’ve left a few more survivors. Paperwork, you know.”

“I’ll bring you souvenirs next time,” Anne deadpanned.

A week later, Anne was standing under the starlight of Sabaody Archipelago, pretending to look out over the ocean. But she wasn’t waiting for the view. She was waiting for him.

“You’re late,” she said as a blue flame flickered into existence behind her.

Marco emerged in full phoenix mode before shifting into his human form, brushing off his coat with a sheepish grin. “I’m technically a pirate. Time management isn’t our strong suit-yoi”

Anne turned to face him. “You’re lucky you’re handsome.”

“You’re lucky I like Marines with secrets-yoi” Marco shot back.

She smirked. “Careful, Marco. If Akainu ever finds out I’m dating a pirate, he’ll turn me into a lava puddle.”

He kissed her forehead. “He’d have to get through me first-yoi”

They didn’t talk about the danger of their affair. About how, if her identity as Gol D. Roger’s daughter came to light, the world would shatter.

Two months later, Anne was aboard a Marine ship tracking pirate movements in the New World.

“Rear Admiral,” a young Ensign called. “Reports indicate Portgas D. Ace was spotted with Whitebeard’s crew nearby.”

Anne tensed, then forced a casual shrug. “We’ll move in. Be cautious.”

As they neared the island, she took point, moving ahead of her men. The moment she landed, a burst of fire greeted her.

“I was wondering when the Marines would show up,” Ace called from a cliff.

Anne smirked. “You’re not as impressive in person as your bounty poster.”

Ace blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Portgas D. Ace. 550 million berries. Famous for being reckless and wearing the same shorts in every poster.”

Ace gawked. “Anne, it’s me! You’re seriously pretending we don’t know each other?”

She gave him a warning glare. “Keep your voice down, idiot.”

From behind a boulder, Marco peeked out with a choked laugh.

“Wait,” Ace whispered harshly, realizing. “You’re… oh no. You’re the Rear Admiral who Marco’s been sneaking off to see?”

Anne just crossed her arms, utterly unimpressed. “Congratulations. You’ve blown three secrets in ten seconds.”

Whitebeard’s laughter could be heard from the distance. “I like this girl. Smart and terrifying.”

Ace tried to recover, pointing dramatically at her. “She’s not that scary!”

Anne kicked him in the stomach.

He landed on Marco, groaning. “Okay. I take that back.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Anne sat with Marco on the edge of the cliff, feet dangling.

“Someday, all of this is going to fall apart,” she murmured.

Marco nodded. “And when it does?”

She squeezed his hand. “I’ll still choose you.”

He smiled. “You’re the only Marine I’d ever break the world for-yoi”

They watched the stars together, unaware that soon, everything would change.

Rear Admiral Anne stood at the training grounds of Marineford, sweat glistening down her brow as she completed her fifth round of drills. Her haki-enhanced strikes shattered practice dummies with ease. Spectators—young recruits and seasoned captains alike—watched with a mix of awe and wariness.

"She's terrifying," one whispered. "Like Vice-Admiral Garp, but with fewer laughs and more death stares."

Anne sheathed her sword and rolled her shoulders. She had a rendezvous scheduled soon, but appearances needed maintaining.

"Rear Admiral Anne," Vice Admiral Tsuru approached, folding her arms behind her back. "I heard your last mission was executed flawlessly."

Anne gave a crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am. Pirate remnants neutralized. Minimal Marine casualties."

Tsuru's eyes twinkled. "Good. You're making waves, girl. Maybe even too many."

Before Anne could answer, a new voice chimed in.

"Too many waves means you’re swimming upstream. Dangerous for someone your size."

Anne groaned inwardly. "Hello, Aokiji-san."

Admiral Aokiji, casually dressed even in the fortress of order that was Marineford, gave her a lazy nod. "I saw your form earlier. Your haki’s improving. You punch like a cannon now."

"Thanks," she replied dryly. "Maybe one day I’ll hit hard enough to knock the lazy out of you."

"Scary." Aokiji mock shivered.

Tsuru chuckled and dismissed herself. As she left, Garp appeared from a nearby barracks hallway, munching on rice crackers.

"Brat," he barked.

Anne turned. "Grandpa."

Garp waved away a few curious recruits and yanked her into his office.

The moment the door closed, he slammed a fist into the desk, causing it to groan. "You’ve been meeting with that Phoenix boy again, haven’t you!?"

Anne didn't deny it. "Yes. And before you say anything—I’m not stupid. We’re careful."

"Careful won’t stop an imprisonment if someone finds out. You think Sengoku wouldn’t throw you in Impel Down if he knew what you’ve been doing—"

"I know, Grandpa." Her voice cracked, soft but firm. "I know the weight I carry. I chose this life because you believed I could change things from inside. I still believe that. But I won’t stop seeing Marco."

Garp sighed, sitting heavily. "You remind me too much of your brothers sometimes."

Anne smiled faintly. "Isn’t that a compliment?"

Garp just shoved more crackers into his mouth and grumbled. "Don't do something you’ll regret!”

That night, under the shroud of darkness and an overcast sky, Anne rendezvoused with Marco again—this time on a quiet island dock in the New World. After exchanging a few quiet, stolen moments together, Marco's expression shifted from his usual warm smile to something a bit more serious, as if he was weighing his words carefully.

“Weeks without seeing you feels like three years,” Marco murmured as he landed in his hybrid form.

Anne leaned into him. “Says the man who literally caught fire to dodge my last message Den Den.”

He chuckled. “You scare me when you're annoyed. And your last note said, ‘We need to talk.’ That’s usually not romantic-yoi"

“I had to make it sound like a Marine order. Just in case.”

Marco lifted her chin. “You sure you still want this? With everything heating up out there… war might not be far.”

Anne nodded, gaze resolute. “I’m sure. Besides… my heart decided before my rank did.”

They kissed, long and desperate, like time itself might steal the moment. For now, there were no emblems. No ranks. Just warmth.

"Anne," Marco sighed, his brow furrowing. "I need to talk to you about something serious. Teach killed thatch and stole his devil fruit…and Ace—he's going after teach-yoi"

Anne’s face grew serious as she listened, her heart tightening with concern. "He’s after teach?" she repeated softly, her mind racing. "Marco, I’ve got bad feelings for this… this bad feeling that something’s off. I don’t want him to go after Teach without understanding what he’s truly up against."

Marco nodded, but his worry didn't quite vanish from his eyes.

Later, after the night faded into silence and after they shared their warmth in a stolen kiss, Anne left with a heavy heart.

A few weeks passed before Anne crossed paths with Ace again. This time, he was alone, his usual smirk replaced by something harder, a look that spoke of a man who had made a decision. She stopped dead in her tracks as their gazes locked. “Ace,” Anne’s voice cut through the silence between them. “I heard. About Teach. You’ve got to be careful. He’s not someone you can just take down with fire alone.” She looked at her brother, seeing the stubbornness in his eyes, but also the uncertainty that she had been fearing. “Promise me you’ll be cautious.” Ace chuckled, ruffling Anne’s hair. “Of course. You’re still the overprotective little sister, huh?” But then his expression softened. “I’ll be careful, Anne. I’m not looking to get myself killed. But Teach won’t just sit around. I need to end this before it spirals out of control.” Anne nodded, her voice quiet but firm. “I know. Just don’t let that man get the better of you.” She kissed his cheek before pulling away, her eyes scanning the horizon like she could see the storm brewing in the distance. “And I’ll make sure Marco knows how to get in touch with me, in case things go sideways.”

Back at Marineford that evening, Anne stood atop the tower, looking at the sea.

She felt a presence behind her and spoke without turning.

“Kizaru-san. What now?”

The Admiral leaned casually against the railing. “You’re quite the enigma, Anne-chan~”

“Am I?”

“You train like a soldier, vanish like a thief, and fight like a demon...Even Sakazuki’s starting to wonder...about you~”

Anne stayed silent.

Kizaru smiled faintly. “You remind me of Roger’s crew... I fought them once, you know...Your eyes? Same fire~”

Her heart stuttered.

“But~” he continued, “you fight for us... So I won’t ask questions... Not yet~”

He vanished in a glimmer of light, leaving her breathless.

Later that night, Anne found herself in Garp’s office again.

“You’re being watched,” he warned her.

“I know.”

He sighed. “Something’s coming, Anne. You need to decide which side you’re truly on.”

She looked up, eyes glowing with resolve. “I already chose. I just don’t think the world’s ready for that choice yet.”

The jungles of the New World were thick and wild, but Anne moved through them like a ghost, her mind elsewhere.

She should have been at Marineford. She should have been at her brother’s side.

Instead, her grandfather Garp had sent her here, on a special mission. A mission that conveniently kept her far from Ace’s execution. Anne wasn’t stupid. She knew exactly what Garp had done — and why.

He knows I would have tried to stop it.

And he was right.

Because no matter her rank, no matter her duty, she would have torn the world apart to protect Ace and Luffy.

The day of the execution, Anne felt it.

The shift in the air.

The roaring Haki that seemed to tear the sky apart.

The terror.

Without thinking, she dropped everything. Her orders, her mission — none of it mattered. She boarded a small craft and forced it through the raging seas toward Marineford, her heart pounding louder than the crashing waves.

She arrived in the middle of chaos.

The war was already at its peak. Pirates and Marines clashed like titans across the shattered ice and broken ships. Screams filled the air. Blood stained the ground.

Anne didn’t hesitate.

She threw a large white cloak over herself, pulled a battered clown mask over her face, and sprinted toward the execution platform.

She arrived just in time to see Akainu aiming a killing blow at Luffy’s exposed back.

Ace moved instinctively — but Anne moved faster.

With a burst of Haki, she hurled herself between Akainu’s magma fist and Ace. Her sword, coated in everything she had left, clashed against the Admiral's burning attack.

The ground shook beneath them.

Anne gritted her teeth, feeling her arms tremble violently from the impact. Her sword cracked under the overwhelming heat and pressure, and her mask shattered, falling from her face.

The world seemed to freeze.

Ace’s eyes widened in horror.

“Anne?!” Ace gasped, horror and relief blending in his voice.

Anne’s lips curled into a small, defiant smile, even as blood dripped down her chin.

She didn’t speak. She couldn't. All she could do was push with everything she had.

For one, brief, shining second — she knocked Akainu back.

The Admiral stumbled, his magma fist withdrawing for the first time.

Anne staggered, the broken remains of her swords falling from her hands. She barely registered the shocked gasps from the surrounding pirates — or the way a certain blond man was covering his face with a shaking hand.

"Anne, you idiot," Marco muttered under his breath, torn between pride and absolute panic.

Anne wiped the blood from her mouth and turned her head just enough to see Ace and Luffy, still frozen in shock.

"Go," she rasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Now."

You ended up kicking both Ace and Luffy square in the stomach, sending them flying into Jimbe's waiting arms.

“Jinbe!” Marco barked. “Get them the hell out of here!”

“No! Anne!” Luffy screamed, reaching out as Jinbe grabbed him and bolted, Ace struggling in his grip.

Anne didn’t turn to look. She couldn’t.

Her focus was still locked onto Akainu, who had recovered from his stumble and was now glaring at her with cold fury.

“You… traitorous brat!” Akainu growled, his fists crackling with magma. “You dare betray justice!?”

Anne gave a tired, mocking smile. "If your 'justice' means killing my brothers," she said hoarsely, "then I'll betray it a thousand times over."

Anne dropped into a shaky stance, barely able to lift her fists. She didn't care about justice anymore.

All she cared about was Ace and Luffy’s safety.

Akainu charged, magma exploding from the ground around him. Anne dodged and weaved, her body moving on instinct, using her smaller size and speed to slip past his heavy, devastating blows.

A magma fist scorched the air inches from her face — she spun under it and slashed his side with a quick, Haki-laced strike, leaving a shallow cut across his coat.

The nearby pirates gawked.

Anne, barely able to stand minutes ago, had injured an Admiral.

Akainu snarled in fury and attacked again, faster and more vicious.

Anne ducked under a molten punch, then headbutted his chin with a burst of Haki so fierce it sent him staggering back two steps.

The Whitebeard Pirates watching in the distance let out a stunned cheer.

"Get him, brat!" someone yelled.

Anne wiped the blood from her forehead, grinning fiercely.

"What's wrong, Akainu?!" she taunted, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Getting beaten by a 'brat' half your size?"

Akainu’s face twisted in rage, steam pouring from his body.

He slammed his fists into the ground, magma exploding upward in a deadly wave.

Anne charged right through it.

Her cloak caught fire. Her boots melted. But she kept going — straight at him.

With a wild, reckless cry, she jumped and drove the hilt of her broken sword into his face, cracking his nose with a brutal crunch.

The battlefield fell silent.

Anne landed in a crouch, panting hard, the remains of her sword still clutched tightly.

Akainu staggered back, one hand flying to his bleeding nose.

The Admiral of Absolute Justice, humiliated — by a girl he once called nothing more than a "soldier."

Anne smirked up at him, cocky despite the blood dripping from her mouth.

But it couldn't last.

The moment passed.

Akainu roared, his entire body exploding with magma and fury, and Anne had no more strength left to dodge.

She raised her battered arms in a last, defiant stance—

Akainu surged forward, rage burning brighter than ever—but before his blow could land, a massive quake shook the battlefield.

Whitebeard.

The old pirate crashed into Akainu with a roar, sending the Admiral flying back with a devastating blow of his bisento.

Anne gasped for breath, her vision swimming. Her legs buckled—

—and Marco caught her before she hit the ground.

"Anne," Marco muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He cradled her against him, his hands glowing faintly with phoenix energy to try and slow her bleeding.

"Marco," she whispered weakly, clinging to his jacket.

"You idiot," he repeated, forehead pressing briefly against hers. "You almost got yourself killed."

Anne gave a faint, bloodied smile. "But… worth it, right?"

Marco swallowed hard. He couldn’t deny it. She had saved Ace. She had saved all of them.

He lifted her easily into his arms. “We’re retreating. Now.”

As the Whitebeard Pirates gathered to pull back, carrying their wounded and fallen, Anne closed her eyes against Marco’s chest, finally letting the exhaustion consume her.

Aftermath

Anne woke up to the sound of the ocean.

She was aboard a ship — not a Marine ship, but one of the Whitebeard Pirates’ vessels.

Her body ached from head to toe. Every muscle screamed in protest. Her hands were wrapped in thick bandages, her ribs tightly bound.

She tried to sit up — and immediately fell back with a groan.

“Don’t even try it.”

Marco’s voice drifted from the side of her bed. She turned her head to see him sitting there, arms crossed, looking more exhausted than she’d ever seen him.

"You broke both your arms, cracked three ribs, burned your hands, and gave yourself a concussion," he said flatly. "And somehow you still thought it was a good idea to stand in front of Akainu."

Anne winced. "Is Ace…?"

Marco’s expression softened.

"He’s safe. Thanks to you. Him and Luffy both."

Anne sagged with relief, tears burning her eyes. She scrubbed at them weakly with the back of her bandaged hand.

Marco reached out and caught her hand gently.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For saving our family."

Anne squeezed his fingers weakly. "Always."

Meanwhile, back at Marine Headquarters:

Garp sat on the edge of a ruined wall, staring blankly at the sea.

Sengoku stood beside him, arms folded.

"You knew she’d do it," Sengoku said quietly.

Garp let out a loud, boasting laugh. "Of course I did! She's my granddaughter after all!"

He closed his eyes.

“She’s got the blood of monster running through her veins. And the heart of a fool.”

Sengoku didn't argue. He simply laid a hand on Garp’s shoulder and squeezed once, silently.

They had all lost today.

And yet, somehow, Anne had managed to save something precious.

Later, on the Whitebeard ship:

Under the blanket of stars, Anne sat on the deck, wrapped in a thick coat, watching the ocean drift by. Her hands still trembled, but she didn’t mind.

Marco dropped down beside her, handing her a cup of hot tea.

They sat in silence for a long time, the night air cool and salty.

Finally, Anne spoke.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For worrying you."

Marco snorted quietly. "You're a pirate now, Anne. Worrying me is part of the deal."

She gave him a crooked smile.

Then, softly, Marco reached over and pressed his forehead against hers again.

"You’re family now," he murmured. "And we protect our own."

Anne closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his presence against the cold night.

For the first time since the war had started, she let herself believe—

Maybe everything wasn't lost after all.

[wonderlandwalker]

Proven Wrong | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick broke things off with you, but everything changes when he gets jealous

Content Warnings/Tags: Smut, mdni, porn with very little plot, jealousy, did not proofread, not even once

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: There's a fifty-fifty chance this is horrible and my sleep-deprived brain is gaslighting me into thinking I need to post it but I guess there's just one way to find out. This is my first time writing Finnick smut and it's not what I used to but I'm also not mad at it, so enjoy this ( hopefully ) while I go have a panic attack in the corner second time today xx

You could see him looking at you, the way he trailed his eyes down the exposed skin your dress graced his eyes with. Wherever you went you could feel his presence burning from behind you. But you knew better than to give into it, because Finnick had made it clear you couldn't be together. Ever since you had returned from your games there had been a spark between you that you had wanted to feed, you wanted to give it oxygen to see how big it would get. But Finnick didn't want to feed the flame, because he was scared it would burn him down. And so you both went your ways, but you couldn't avoid each other.

Every capitol event and each hunger games you would see each other, you would see him looking at you with that longing in his eyes that made you wonder if this was really what he had wanted. But you didn't dare question it, because you had tried before, and all it had led to was a waste of energy. No, you wouldn't fall for that again. 

And you hadn't been doing it intentionally, you hadn't even noticed at first when Gloss got a little closer than usual or when his hand made its way to your waist. To be honest, you were quite enjoying yourself, and you had given up on the idea Finnick would turn around.

So when you did notice, you let him. You let Gloss whisper into your ear and you laughed at the silly joke he had made, and you weren't even sure if you were actually enjoying his attention or the attention in general.

But you didn't have much time to wonder before you were interrupted. A hand placed on your shoulder and a quick ‘can I borrow her for a second’ and you were being dragged into the hallway close by. If it hadn't been for the fact you recognized him from the smallest actions you would have been startled, but you could never be startled around him.

“What do you think you are doing” He sounded bitter, and maybe, just maybe you were glad you could get to him the way he would get to you.

“I'm having fun, what are you doing” 

“You know that's not what I mean, what are you doing with him” He had you cornered between himself and the wall, and he was so close that you could feel his heart beating in sync with yours, but after all this time you had spent trying to get over him, you weren't one to give in easy.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore Finnick.”

The moment you told him you could see a flash of hurt pass his eyes, if you didn't know any better you would have sworn he looked like he regretted something.

But you pushed past the thought, and you pushed yourself free from him, going back outside to rejoin the party. As the night went on you kept looking at him, you kept looking and every time you did, his eyes would already be on you. He was watching you as if he hadn't told you he didn't want to be with you. 

In the beginning, it had been blissful, but it hadn't taken long for your relationship with Finnick to turn complicated, and in the end, it had broken like a glass that's been pushed towards the edge too many times, finally slipping off.

But when you excuse yourself a little while later and walk inside to get a moment of peace from the crowd outside, you meet him again. This time though, he doesn't even greet you, he’s immediately grabbing your arm and urging you to follow him up the staircase. You enter the first room you find and the moment he shuts the door behind you he’s on you as if it's his last chance to do so. He pushes you up against the door and grabs your legs, pleading with you to wrap them around him as his lips crash into yours. For a moment you want to let him, you want to bask in this euphoria of feeling him against you, but you have to remind yourself it will only be worse in the end.

“Finnick you need to stop.” You were trying to sound convincing, really, you were, but the way his fingers are roaming your skin makes you sink into him, and your voice sounds more like a plea. 

He’s moved his attention to your jaw, to your neck, and when he meets your pulse point you throw your head back against the door, but he still knows you, and before you can hurt yourself on it he’s bracing you with his other hand against the back of your head.

“Careful now, wouldn't want you to get hurt.” It’s ironic, you think, the way in which he seems to care so much all of a sudden when he didn't seem to care all this time before. But you still don't stop him, you don't stop him as he walks you over to the empty bed and you wouldn't dream of stopping him as he drops you down on it, hovering over you. His hands are everywhere and it feels as if he’s showing your skin an entire new kind of pleasure. His hands trail lower until he hikes up your dress and leans down to kiss a path up your thighs as if he’s following a map that will lead him to hidden treasure. 

If it had been anyone else, you would have felt ashamed, you would have cowered away at how quickly he was getting to you. You’re leaning into his touch and when you moan out his name, he says.

“I bet Gloss doesn’t make you feel as good as I can, does he?”

And you wouldn't know, because tonight had been the first time you really noticed him, but it brought out something in Finnick you’ve been trying to get for ages, and you're not about to tell him just yet.

“I thought you said we weren't together.” You want to see how far you can take this, because it’s not often you hold the upper hand. A dark look flashes through his eyes as you look at him and he doesn't say anything just yet, but he’s doubling his efforts as he gets closer to your core, and the moment he makes contact with your clit through your underwear, the moment you arch your back and moan his name again as he feels how wet you are for him, he regains the control.

“And I thought you said you were a good girl, guess we were both wrong.” He looks up again from where he had settled between your legs, and the hypnotizing effect he has on you makes you sink into the mattress as he gets back to his mission. His mouth is on you as if he’s been starving for months and you are the only thing that will salvage his hunger, your legs are tingling and he has to use his arm to keep you down. Before you know it he’s using his fingers and you swear you don’t care anymore what happens after this, whether he’ll leave you alone or not because right now, all you can think of is the way it all feels. You can feel his fingers curling inside you as he whispers praises to you, you can feel how close you are from the way your insides twist at his words, and you can feel the flood of relief as he tells you to let go, and you do. 

You’re breathing is still heavy as you feel the mattress dip beside you and when you open your eyes you see him looking at you.

“I’ve missed you.” He sounds like he’s trying to apologize, and in a way he is. Because he’s sorry for all the time he’s wasted and he’s sorry it took him this long to realize.

“I’ve missed you too Fin.” His eyes melt a little at the nickname, and he leans in to kiss you again. It’s much softer this time, and you just know it’s all going to be okay.