“Nesta,” I choked as I
struggled to open my eyelids—to stretch my battered wings. I sucked in a sharp
breath, her screams echoing through the hallway.
I winced from the searing
pain that enveloped my entire body. Sweat dripped down my furrowed brows,
stinging my eyes—my body was drenched. I stood up too quickly, the room spun
briefly before I had my balance under control.
The pads of my bare feet slammed
into the cold floor as I rushed to the door. “Shit,” I muttered, collapsing to my
knees. Wood and bones, snapping against one another.
Again, I rose too swiftly,
lifting a calloused hand to the doorknob. Bile ascended in my esophagus. I was
going to vomit from the unbearable throbs of agony. But she needs me, I can
Twisting the knob, I flung
the door open. Of course, I was at the far end of the hallway. What once was a
short walk looked like the entire length of Prythian.
okay so this is just some mindless fluff I wrote after ‘the new lars’ because I absolutely adore the fact that the Cool Kids are a dance crew (idk why I waited so long to post it, but the new eps motivated me to finally finish it so here we are). so please read on and enjoy some poly cool kid fluff, and remember that comments are loved and appreciated! :)
also, click here to read it on FFN and here to read it on A03 - Aqua
of love and dancing
“Alright, let’s go again from the chorus.”
Buck hit play and cranked up the volume, nodding in time with the beat before throwing himself into the dance.
Even as he lost himself in the music, he was hyper-aware of Jenny and Sour Cream beside him, anticipating their movements as if they were his own. They moved together, breathing on the same beats as everything faded away and they focused only on each other and the dance.
They were rehearsing at the warehouse, a warm breeze drifting in and out of the open building. The evening sky cast a soft pink glow into the area, muting the harsh fluorescent lighting. Jenny had brought one of her dad’s old stereos, and Sour Cream had set up the music, one of his original tracks he’d converted to CD. The floor hummed beneath their feet, pulsing with the heavy bass of the music.
Admittedly, it was a little unconventional. Most of the dance crews they competed with had their own studio or rehearsal space that wasn’t a crumbling ruin on the outskirts of town. But Beach City wasn’t exactly dance central, and the city itself was a bit unconventional; it wouldn’t make sense if their dance crew was anything but.
A/N: This one has a lot of the other’s points of view, roll with me here. I’m still learning and a HUGE shout out to @writingruna for being so perfect and helping me out with this if it wasn’t for her and spit balling ideas I would probably have a blank screen still. Thanks again love! (Y/N) your name (Y/H/C) your hair color
Things with Steve and The Avengers are great till you think you have the flu. When the stick turns blue everything changes, how are you going to tell Steve. Nothings going to be the same anymore and you’re not sure how you’re going to break it to Steve what if he isn’t ready, what if you’re not ready to give your life as part of the Avengers. Everything changes when something goes bad and the team including Steve is waiting for answers.
“Why do you think that?” Sam’s eyes on your face.
“I have this memory, something inside me remembers hearing him talk about marriage.” You let out a soft laugh.
“Oh, no,” Stiles says, bent double and nearly breathless with laughter. “No, no, no.”
“You asked for this,” Derek reminds him, awkwardly shuffling to the beat of ‘1999’ with his elbows pulled in tight at the waist. He throws in a dorky spin, pointing finger-guns at Stiles on the downbeat, and Stiles can't breathe.
“I thought you had secret dancing skills,” Stiles admits, watching fondly as Derek does a series of dumb disco-adjacent gestures. “I didn’t bring you to this wedding with me so you could shame me and all of your ancestors on the dance floor.”
“Watch this,” Derek says, and is about to ineptly moonwalk right over the hem of Allison’s wedding dress until Stiles yanks him back into place by his suspenders.
“Oh my god. You’re a tragedy, Hale. All that body and no clue what to do with it.”
“Hey,” Derek protests, eyebrows furrowing.
“I can’t believe your hips would just lie to me like that.”
“By the way, I was already invited to this wedding, asshole,” Derek reminds him. “I’m an usher.”
“And you didn’t fall down!” Stiles pats his cheek condescendingly. “Which I now realize is a beautiful miracle.”
“All right, that’s it,” Derek says ominously, and stops mid-shuffle to make a beeline for the DJ booth.
Stiles knows he’s in some kind of danger when Prince cuts off abruptly, replaced by a smoky, pulsing tango.
“Did you threaten the DJ,” he asks weakly, backing away a little as Derek stalks toward him, “because he’s actually Allison’s cousin and there could be repercussions to—”
“Stop talking,” Derek says, and draws Stiles flush against him in one fluid, violent movement.
“Buh,” Stiles says, and then feels every inch of his skin start to tingle when Derek starts leading him. With his hips.
“I only like some kinds of dancing,” Derek says, disgustingly smug. “No. Don’t. Chin up, look at me. That’s it. Dip,” he warns, casually draping Stiles over his arm.
I deserve this, Stiles thinks, staring mournfully backwards at the floor while the heat of Derek’s palm burns through his cummerbund.
Derek pulls him back up, slots their cheeks together, and takes a gliding step, encouraging Stiles along with a confident press of his thigh. “I requested a rumba after this,” he says in Stiles’ ear.
Title: Do You Wanna Touch Characters/Pairings: Stan Pines/Rick Sanchez Tags: First Time, Stranger Sex, Dirty Dancing, Alcohol, Car Sex, Hand Jobs Summary: Stan hits rock bottom. Again. This time, he meets someone down there.
‘It was way too early for this’ you muttered yawning unlocking the door to your local dance studio.
It wasn’t 7:30 am early. It wasn’t 6:45 am early. It wasn’t even 6:00 am early. It was so early that the sun hadn’t even began to rise over the not so soft whispers of the rushing cars, and city lights of Seoul. In other words it was around 5:30 am and you were tired.
‘Why do I do this to myself?’ You whined internally, regretting life choices. You were cold and tired. Not a good combo.
You started stretching knowing you had more than one dance routine to get down today.
'The sooner I get started the sooner i will be to being done.’ You thought as you proceeded to stretch.
Eventually you started on your first routine. Which turned into the second. And third and on until you had reached your 7th and final routine. Sweat poured down your face. Your body ached and your breath was stolen by exhaustion and you struggled to calm your heart rate. You still kept going. You only had one more move to get down and it was frustrating you to the max. But you refused to give up. It wasn’t in your nature. So you started the music once again and ran through the dance flawlessly till you hit that particular move. Thump! The floor greeted you with open arms.
Frustration seemed to be eating you alive and it gnawed at every inch of your body as you finally gave into the exhaustion falling onto your back with a huff. You stared blankly at the ceiling. Nothing else mattered, not your achy muscles or school work or even the music in the background. Your mind felt completely numb.
You don’t know how long you sat there in the middle of the dance studio just thinking, but you were snapped out of your thoughts as the music was sharply cut off. Your eyes snapped open and darted to the stereo to find a boy about your age standing there looking at you with worry.
You continued to stare at him because holy this boy was beautiful. Dark brown hair that was styled messily, deep brown eyes that twinkled, full lips, tan skin, tall and a toned figure. When you were finished checking him out, your e/c met his brown worried ones. He stared at you in concern.
“Are you alright? You look like you’ve been having a difficult time with that move love. I could help you. Let me help you.”
Even his voice was beautiful. You thought as you stared at the man in a mixture of awe and confusion. Your mind was racing with questions. 'Who was this man? How did he know you were here?’ 'Why did he call you love?’ 'Why does he want to help me?’
“Well, I’m Kai. I was dropped off here. I’m your boyfriend. And because I can’t stand to see you hurt yourself anymore than you already have.”
“Did I say that all out loud?” You asked completely embarrassed and overwhelmed.
He chuckled softly reaching his hand out to you. You took it and he pulled you up with ease.
“Yes. Yes you did. Don’t be embarrassed love. I think it’s cute.” He said rubbing his thumb over your hand. “Now let’s get that dance move finished so I can take you out to eat like a proper boyfriend.” He grinned squeezing your hand and pulling you to the middle of the dance floor and starting the music.
“Wait hold up. Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend. Is this some kind of joke?”
“No. why would I prank you when you specifically build me to love and protect you?”
That’s when it hit you. The night before you and some friends had decided to do all sorts of fandom quizzes when you had come across and ad called build a boyfriend. You all shrugged thinking 'well why not?’ And gave it a shot. Together you had 'built’ the 'perfect’ boyfriend. Never in a million years did you think that perfect boyfriend you built would be standing in front of you. And yet here you are.
“Hello? Y/n? Are you still there?” Kai’s hand waved in front of your face. You jumped and blinked a few times.
“Yeah. Yeah I remember now. But it actually work-. You know what never mind. Forget I said anything.” Kai stared at you confused.
“Can you help me with that move?” You asked smiling at him too exhausted to think that the quiz was real. Kai nodded and started the music coming up behind you and guiding you into the song. You let the music flow into your veins and for some odd reason you felt energized and relaxed as Kai guided you though your dance. You moved as one unified force moving to the music. Then it was a soft whisper as you both finished the final move. You opened your eyes to find Kai grinning at you.
“You did it! I knew you could.” Your smile was contagious as you nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I did. Kai I did it! We did it!” You squealed hugging him tightly.
He happily hugged you back and kissed the top of your head. You sighed in bliss as your frustration was completely gone.
“Come on let’s go get some food love.” Kai said holding your bag over your shoulder and wrapping his arm around your shoulders and guiding you out the door.
Sometimes you just have to go with the flow whether it be good or bad and in this case it was definitely good.
Hit: In the Caroline Islands in Micronesia, this name was given to an octopus goddess. Hit’s daughter started an affair with a god who already had a wife in heaven. The sky woman followed her husband, trying to drag him away from his mistress, but Hit began dancing lewdly. So erotic was her performance that the sky woman fainted from excitement and had to be carried back to heaven. Each time the wife tried to stop her husband from making love to his mistress, Hit began dancing again, allowing for the conception of the culture-hero Olifat
Chapter 2 of my ronsy fic, Best Thing, is now up on FF.net and AO3!
Beware of excessive smut!
Fic summary: A sexual encounter between Pansy Parkinson and
Ron Weasley leaves her hating him more than ever. Years later, he turns
up at her door for more.
A little preview of Chapter 2:
Pansy cringes and pulls a pillow over her face. The last thing she
remembers is taking another round of shots with Daphne, Millie and
Blaise before hitting the dance floor again. Later, she had to find a
floo to get home because she was much too drunk to apparate.
are some other flashes of memory too. Like being shoved up against the
wall by someone with delicious muscles and wrapping her legs around his
waist. A hot mouth on her throat. Big, strong hands in her hair.
Something very hard and satisfying inside of her. Her pussy clenches
involuntarily at the thought.
“Oy, Parkinson. Close the fucking drapes!”
Shit. She knows that voice.
she pushes the pillow away and looks beside her. Wearing nothing but
boxers, which do nothing to hide the impressive tenting of his morning
wood, is Ronald Wealsey in all his red-haired, freckled glory.
staring at my crotch, woman, and close the fucking drapes!” He’s
scowling at her through half-opened lids, one arm slung over his eyes.