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unhinged-summer-fun · 9 days ago

Text

edāx (oshamir)

edāx (Latin) greedy, gluttonous, voracious, devourer.

Rating: Explicit (22+)

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x The Stranger "Qimir"

Summary: Osha goes out with Fillik after all, and makes the acquaintance of a dangerous man — if he is a man at all.

Warnings: Vampire AU and all that entails, sexual content. 11k word count deserves a warning.

A/N: This is my gift for @tourmaline-dream for the Oshamir Holiday Gift Exchange 2024! I hope you like ittttt~ And many thanks to @starlightafterastorm for betaing this fic <3

“Would you quit looking at him?” Fillik hissed across the table. Their section of the cantina was loud enough that he didn’t have to whisper, but the quieter reprimand got the point across better than if he’d spoken regularly or even if he’d shouted it. None of the other nearby diners seemed to notice them—but that wasn’t unusual in this end of the galaxy.

Osha returned to herself, snapping from her reverie as if Fillik had poured his fussy little mixed drink on her head. The breath Osha took was ragged, like she’d been holding her breath—or forgotten how to breathe entirely. She avoided responding to the remark, this time gazing in the opposite direction of the man who’d caught her attention.

Her restraint lasted for all of three seconds before she peeked back at the shadier side of the dining area, catching a glimpse of dark hair, pale skin, eyes that glinted crimson—

“Osha,” Fillik said at a normal volume, flapping a sticky menu in her periphery to act as blinders. “You have the subtleness of a bantha, my friend. At least get up and talk to him instead of just gawking.”

“What are you talking about?” she said, breathing out in a slow, controlled exhale that did nothing to calm her nerves. Stars, but that man had rattled her from across the room.

“You’re going to have no chance at picking that guy up if you just stare at him like—”

“Like what?”

“Like he’s going to eat you or something.”

She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, shaking her head at her friend. “I’m not here to pick anybody up, Fil.” Osha slapped at the flimsi he held up as a privacy barrier. Despite her protests, she checked again.

The man was gone.

Disappointment filled her chest, heavy and cold. The feeling sharply shifted to tension, hairs standing on end when—

“Hello.”

A deep voice, smooth as whiskey and dark as night, cut through all her thoughts with exacting precision. Her mouth went dry despite the taste of her drink still on her tongue, and she turned to look up at the person next to her, up and up and—

Dark hair with eyes to match, pale skin with teeth to match, bared in a half-smile that made some primal side of her soul shiver. Up close, the stranger looked even more fascinating, all cheekbones, lips, and jaw that would have looked ridiculous on any other face—but he wore his features comfortably, not an ounce of insecurity hidden on his person. She only caught a glimpse of his teeth before the smile grew closed-lipped, but she swore she saw something predatory around his canine teeth: too long, that primal soul said. Too sharp. Too dangerous.

But Osha had never let that little voice stop her before. She was a meknek, for fuck’s sake. She took strolls through space and risked her life every other day to distract her from the nightmarish silence of space.

“Hello,” Osha said, feeling a little silly. The stranger’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Hi,” he said, and damn, there was that flash of a tooth again. It caught her breath, but not before she made an even greater fool of herself.

“Hi.”

Silence rolled in like the tide, awkwardness threatening to overtake their meeting.

“Please join us,” Fillik said, breaking the silence. When he caught her eye, he raised his eyebrows and gave her a look that probably meant, don’t be weird and act like a normal person.

The man slid gracefully into the seat beside Osha, and from this close, she caught a glimpse of long, dark eyelashes. It may have been the harsh lighting of the spaceport’s refectory, but he seemed almost sickly pale were it not for the grace of his movements that spoke to his relatively good health. Fillik cleared his throat, pulling her head out of the nebulae and back to solid ground.

“Um.”

This was going great.

“What’s your name?” the stranger murmured, lips moving only as much as necessary to communicate. It made her lean in, as magnetized to him as her boots were to the outer hulls of starships.

“Osha,” she whispered, even softer than he’d spoken. An amused expression crossed his face, one eyebrow raising so naturally she almost didn’t notice it. She said again, louder, “I’m Osha. This is Fillik.”

Her friend didn’t seem too convinced of her normal person act, but he stifled his teasing in favor of taking on the role of a wingman. “We’re mekneks.”

The stranger hadn’t looked away from Osha once. “How daring,” he commented, the other eyebrow joining the first before his expression relaxed.

Osha’s small-talk abilities fizzled like a dying candle when the stranger didn’t offer his name or profession. “You don’t have a drink,” she said bluntly.

Fillik looked like he wanted to run headfirst into the nearest wall as hard as possible.

But the stranger wasn’t repelled by her awkwardness. The corners of his lips inched upward, and his eyes finally strayed from hers, dipping downward but not scandalously so. No, his eyes seemed more focused on her collarbone, tracing the delicate line of it back and forth with so much intensity it was almost a caress.

“I don’t drink all that much,” he said, still smiling softly, secrets galore held behind his lips.

“A cantina’s kind of a weird place to be, then,” Osha said. She heard Fillik suck in a breath, almost wincing at her observation.

“I was looking for a bite,” he shrugged. “Something smelled good over here.”

For the briefest moment, as his mouth wrapped around the word bite, Osha could have sworn she saw that impossible glint of too-sharp, too-long, dangerous teeth again. But at his affable, easygoing shrug, she stifled that instinctual urge to flee. Heart racing, she didn’t know what to do or say besides sit there and breathe.

“Oh, a menu.”

The stranger reached across the table, his hand glancing over Osha’s wrist. She flinched at the sharp, biting cold of his skin when it brushed hers. It reminded her of the frost that collected on her exo-suit after a long shift. After those shifts, when she stepped into the tepid spray of a shower, her body reacted to the warmth as if it were open flames. She wondered what her skin felt like to him, and watched his expression carefully. He must have felt something when he touched her, but his expression gave nothing away.

“Do you recommend anything?” the stranger asked, acknowledging Fillik. A brief thrill of satisfaction raced through Osha as Fillik straightened up beneath the stranger’s piercing, dark stare.

“What’d you see that smelled good?” he managed to stammer.

The stranger’s eyes flicked to Osha briefly—so briefly that she had to write off the red glint that reflected from behind his irises. Stars, but something about that was familiar. Her poleaxed expression gave way to outright curiosity, but on Osha’s face, it looked more like a glare.

Fillik and the stranger exchanged words, agreeing on what to order. Osha observed the stranger with blatant curiosity. She wasn’t used to this whole flirting thing, as much as Fillik tried to convince her otherwise. Yet, without a single word, she’d seemed to snare this gorgeous man’s attention from across a crowded room. To Osha’s surprise, Fillik rose from the table to get the order—“I wanted to get another round anyway. Be right back.”

She’d never seen him walk so fast.

This left her alone with the stranger, who turned to her as he’d done before. Now that she thought about it, he’d never not been facing her. Even when he spoke to Fillik, he’d only turned his head a little. His entire body seemed trained on her, and she didn’t know what to do with that kind of attention.

“Osha,” he said, drawing her name out like a song and ending it on an almost-whisper. The curling smile on his lips made her wonder if he was addressing her or testing out the feel of her name on his tongue. “Do you like being a meknek?”

Startled by the question, she answered honestly. “I like being paid for it.”

This shocked a laugh out of him—throaty, deep, and warm. With his head tilted back, she got a full view of his teeth, and there was no denying it now.

Those were fangs.

But she’d been a meknek for six years now and seen all kinds of species from all sorts of places. Plenty of species have fangs, she reasoned. Carnivorous species, her instincts added. And how many of them look like humans?

Just one, she thought.

She bit back the question that threatened to spill out of her mouth, content with just watching him enjoy himself, even if she was what amused him so. In all honesty, his laugh and the sight of those fangs made a coil of desire tighten in her gut so quickly that it almost stole her breath. “What’s so funny?” she asked once she regained her composure.

“You,” he said, leaning an elbow on the table and resting his head on his fist. He no longer hid his teeth behind a smile; he grinned widely, showing off the lethal points of his canine teeth. She knew, evolutionarily, that a smile was meant to set people at ease, promising good intentions. On him, however, his smile seemed to promise something far more primal and bloody. “Most would lie or, at the very least, give a neutral answer. You, however, seem to have no problem being honest with a stranger.”

“How do you know I’m not lying? That I’m not harboring a deep passion for thrill-seeking and advanced mechanics?”

His head tilted to the side, eyes sliding back to her collarbones and back up again. She gripped her drink to keep herself from shivering. “I’d know if you were lying,” he said.

“How? Are you—” That damn word stuck in her mouth. Jedi. Even now, the memory still pained her. She shoved it away.

The stranger was kind enough not to make her finish her thought. “Your heartbeat,” he explained. “For many people, especially humans, their heart races when they lie.”

Something about how he phrased it struck a nerve, like an old memory was stirring, vying for her attention.

Just one.

His hand reached out, but he didn’t touch her. His hands were so cold, Osha could feel it from where they hovered just over her skin, just above her pulse. He didn’t need to touch her to know her heart had skipped a beat. Osha got the feeling he was more than aware of her heartbeat, even without reaching out to her.

He continued, “Some humans can fool themselves with their lies, making it harder to tell when they aren’t telling the truth.” Those ice-cold fingertips trailed over her neck, still hovering above her skin. Across her collarbone before he returned his hand to where it rested on the table.

“Then how do you tell if they’re lying?”

“It’s in their eyes.”

She looked up at him again, unaware of her wandering gaze. That crimson glint returned, strengthening and blooming behind his brown irises. In just a few heartbeats, the rich color overtook it entirely. At a glance, his eyes wouldn’t have been anything but dark, but up close like this, they were near-luminous in the way a predator’s eyes would be, lit up from the darkness.

That familiar feeling returned, this time with a name.

“You’re a vampire,” she whispered.

His head tilted back to center, and his face gave nothing away. “Does that scare you?” he asked. She caught no hint of threat or menace in his voice, just open curiosity. It was probably a deliberate choice.

“I don’t think it does,” she said with a breathy laugh. She didn’t sit back, but she didn’t rock forward either—as much as she wanted to.

“You aren’t sure if you’re scared of me?” he said, letting a trickle of amusement back into his tone.

“You say that like you want the answer to be yes,” she countered. She had no idea where this bravery and boldness came from.

“Yes or no, it doesn’t matter,” he shrugged, a mask of indifference settling in over his features.

“It does, though,” Osha insisted.

His eyes sharpened on her, flashing as red as the neon sign some twenty feet behind him. “Then answer the question, Osha. Are you scared of me?”

Her mothers had taught her about all manner of things before they died. Her and Mae’s training with the Thread had only been part of it; although they grew up sheltered, they had not grown up ignorant of the ways of the galaxy.

There are others, Mother Aniseya instructed, who are powerful and feared and hunted, like us. Those who seek power from the night, like us. Those whose power is a right by blood.

Should we fear them too? Mae asked then, inquisitive and eager.

You should fear nothing, my girls, their mother had answered with a smile. When the fearsome things that walk the darkness brush against each other, you will know them, and they will know you. You will not be afraid. The monsters who hide within the sunshine are the ones to be wary of.

She hadn’t explained what that meant at the time, nor could she now, but the look she’d given Osha felt full of meaning that only seemed to make sense at this very second.

“I’m not scared of you,” Osha said, realizing almost after the fact that she was telling the whole truth of it. Her heart still raced; would he think she was lying? The look he gave her was still indecipherable.

Objectively, she knew her mother’s guidance was meant to cultivate a child’s curiosity and encourage open-mindedness but not recklessness. After her death, the Jedi had impressed upon her just the opposite: a deep sense of caution and suspicion toward others. They also stifled her inquisitive nature. Questioning the masters at the Jedi Temple always ended in reprimand. Curious adventures into the restricted section of the Archives resulted in punishments. Her attachment and investment in the family she lost ultimately led to her expulsion from the Order. But six years had passed since, and she’d more than shaken off the rust from a decade’s worth of stifled instincts. That old recklessness had returned.

If playing with fire would burn her, at least she’d die warm.

“Was that not the answer you wanted?” she asked dryly, draining the rest of her drink while she waited for an answer.

His eyes fixated on her throat as she swallowed, giving the gaze a different connotation, but one that didn’t evoke fear—at least not in her. The vampire leaned back, his face still an inscrutable mask. He couldn’t hide his eyes from her, however. The turbulent clouds of red in his irises churned like a maelstrom in a sea of blood.

Maybe she wouldn’t burn. Maybe she’d drown by the end of this.

“I think I like your answer,” he said, allowing half a smirk.

“You only think you like it?” Osha challenged.

He gave her the rest of his smirk. “Well met, Osha.”

They stared at one another for a while, letting silence fall between them even as the crowded cantina chattered away, oblivious to what was happening. She felt a static build-up in those few inches between them—between his hand and hers, where they rested on the table. As a meknek, she was trained to be cautious of electrostatic energy. (As a human, she was taught to be cautious of any creature that wanted her blood.)

“Why did you come over here?” Osha asked.

“Why were you looking at me?” he parried.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m sure they have the same answer,” he said with another sharp grin.

Because you intrigued me. Because I wanted to know more about you. Because I felt like there was no other choice but you.

Osha dropped the matter, running her fingers along the rim of her glass. She wished Fillik would return; she was so damned awkward around strangers—

He spoke so softly that she almost didn’t catch it. “You can call me Qimir.”

A new expression had replaced the intentionally blank face he had before. Now, he looked softer around the edges, more welcoming and trustworthy. Harmless with a touch of the uncanny, but not so much as the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing smiles he’d given before. How much of this look was real? Was this another ploy to get her guard down? Was he still trying to scare her?

Osha swallowed down her unease, remembering her mother’s advice. You will not be afraid.

So she met his eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Qimir.”

His eyes crinkled up in the corners as he smiled this time, and a pulse of truth came to her in such a way that she hadn’t felt since... Since…

He wasn’t only a vampire. But the answer of what else he was seemed well out of reach.

This thrilled her even more, but some mysteries were more fun left unsolved—for now. “When you said you were looking for a bite…”

His features took on a boyish tint, teasing and playful. “I wasn’t lying,” he said. “Man’s gotta eat.”

“That he does,” she murmured, allowing herself to look at the rest of him.

His clothes were baggy and misshapen, hanging off of him in a way that hid the powerful, muscular body beneath. From this close (and the brief look she’d gotten of his forearms), he was like a coiled snake, strength radiating off of him in a way that no amount of baggy clothes could hide. Added to how he towered over her just a few minutes ago, he gave off an aura that felt genuinely intimidating. She was confident that if she stood beside him, he would seem even more imposing than before. He’d moved so silently, too; there was no outrunning him.

She pictured him and her in some dark nook of the spaceport, bathed in shadows and intertwined. His mouth at her neck, his hands wherever they wanted to be, her legs around his middle as he drank and fed—

He sucked in a sharp breath, and exhaled in a quiet groan. The noise was so deep that she could feel it in her fingertips. His expression had shifted again, the crimson in his eyes whipping around near-violently. “What?” she asked.

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asked, his voice rough and deep.

“I’m—” Osha’s face flared with heat, and she prepared to lie. But she felt that rush of blood in her ears, her heart rate kicking up—

He smirked, realizing her intent before she did.

“Nothing,” she said, just to cover her ass.

“Liar,” he smirked, one hint of fang flashing from his lips.

The sight, the reminder, brought her imagination to new heights, picturing those fangs sinking into a vein, those lush lips sealing around her skin and sucking, drawing her blood into his mouth—

“Osha,” he rasped, his voice nearly a growl. His hands flexed, and his skin was so pale that even the whites of his knuckles didn’t show. “You don’t want to play this game with me.”

“Why not?” she asked, cursing the breathy quality of her voice.

To anyone else, he would have looked relaxed. To her, she knew his composure was in tatters, that whatever control he had was fraying by the second. A brief flash of concern, of desperation, gusted through his eyes. “I am… perhaps not as well-fed as I should be.” He couldn’t meet her eyes, focusing now on her neck and collarbone.

Her heart did flips in her chest, and her recklessness reached new heights. “Does it… hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” he asked.

The hunger? The restraint? She should have said those things, but they weren’t what she told him. “The bite. Feeding.”

He sucked in a breath, held it. He’d gone so still she almost thought he’d expired right there at the table. Stars, this situation escalated quickly.

“Yes and no.”

“How—”

“In that order.”

“Oh.” Osha blinked. Yes, the bite would hurt. She’d expected so; wounds of any kind were bound to hurt, even ones you were prepared for. But feeding? The act of drinking from another… didn’t hurt? “What do you mean?” she asked, leaning in.

The crimson in his eyes settled into slow, lazy swirls. “I don’t know how it is for others, but I can make it feel like anything you want. Pain. Numbness. Pressure. Pleasure.” He said this last part with his eyes heavily hooded, desire plain on his face. “How would you like it, Osha?”

Osha had no idea what to say to him. She was, of course, curious about exactly what he meant, but some measure of caution still held her back, cold and frowning.

“Would anything happen to me?” she said, avoiding the question.

“You mean, would you turn?” he asked, a husky chuckle following. “No. Vampires are, for the most part, born—or so I know.”

“What do you mean?” she said again, frowning.

“I wasn’t raised around others of my kind. The ones who raised me, they…” A brief flare of some hot emotion gusted through his aura—something like anger. It dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving her confused and a little wary. “They didn’t know what to do with me. I’ve had to learn as I go.”

A pang of sympathy rattled her bones. Osha knew what that was like. The Jedi her age were already well-versed in topics and routines she was unfamiliar with, and it left her feeling more than a little like an outsider to them. And when the Order cast her out? She had to do it all over again, learning to be a meknek to survive.

“So, no,” he said, drawing her attention back. “Nothing would happen to you, bar perhaps symptoms of minor blood loss… among other things.”

“Other things?” she said.

He grinned, fangs out. “Fun things.”

“I don’t know if I should trust your definition of fun, Qimir,” she said, picking up her glass and sighing when she realized it was empty.

He’d frozen in place, and it took her a second to notice. She was about to ask what was wrong when he said, “I like how you say my name. More than is probably appropriate.”

She was going to pass out if her heart kept racing like this. Osha was once again speechless in the face of his brazen want, unfamiliar with the script or steps to follow here. She chewed her lip, and his eyes flicked to the gesture. The heat in her lower half only increased until she felt like she needed to squeeze her thighs together to grab some measure of composure. But that felt like a lifeboat drifting away in a stormy sea. She was going to drown in him, sooner or later.

“I…”

“Yes?”

“How badly do you need to feed?” she asked, the words slipping out almost by accident.

“Very badly,” he said simply. “Why do you ask?”

He was playing with her; he knew exactly why she was asking and was going to make her say it. The rush of embarrassment bloomed right from her cheeks, heating her entire body this time as she fought the shyness stilling her tongue. “Because I…” she swallowed. “I’m curious what it’s like.” There. Safer ground. “And a man’s gotta eat, like you said. Seems we can help each other out.”

He smirked at her but didn’t call her out. His eyes sparkled just the same as they’d done the last time she avoided the truth with him. Liar, his voice echoed in her head. The real answer—that she wanted him as desperately as he seemed to want her—refused to be spoken aloud.

“I don’t think your friend will approve,” he teased.

Oh right. Fillik.

She looked over his shoulder at the bar beyond, where Fillik sat beside someone draped in glowing green fabric. As if sensing her attention, Fillik looked over and made the hand signal for are you okay? They only ever used the code when their communicators shorted out while on jobs, but it worked well here.

Osha signed back, okay. Then, after a moment, she signed, see you later.

Fillik’s grin and double thumbs-up needed no translation.

If only he knew just what Osha was walking away with.

“Fillik’s fine,” Osha said, looking back at Qimir. He seemed oddly… charmed by the exchange.

But his demeanor changed the moment she gave her answer, eyes darkening and going a little wild. She could have sworn the crimson in his irises had bled into the whites of his eyes, but the moment passed after a beat. “Then I think we should find somewhere more private, don’t you think?”

Her heart thumped heavily in her chest, the thrill of danger sparking her senses in a way no meknek job ever would, in a way the Jedi never could. Qimir stood, offering his hand to her. She took it, marveling at the coolness of his skin touching hers. He did not let go as he led her from the cantina.

They didn’t go far, but the sharp twists and turns down the side passages of the spaceport left Osha feeling a little disoriented. When they stopped, she caught sight of a familiar landmark and a sign that would lead her back to her ship when they were finished. He pulled her into a small micro-hotel, but it didn’t look as seedy as the ones she’d seen on-world.

Apparently, he already had a room because they bypassed the reception droid entirely and went to the back. The lights were down-lit around their ankles, making him seem even more dark and imposing than he already was. When he looked at her over his shoulder, his eyes pulsed with a glow that reminded her of sunsets… and lightsabers. It stole her breath.

Then they were in a room. Alone. With no crowd to drown the silence. Just her slightly uneven breathing—and his notable lack thereof.

“You don’t breathe?” she blurted out, trepidation making the words a little louder than she intended. She winced.

Qimir let go of her hand and sat on the bed, letting his hands hang between his knees. Making himself smaller, she observed. Non-threatening. “If I didn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak,” he said, his voice coming a little higher—another tactic to draw in unsuspecting prey or to calm the suspicious. “And I do have a pulse, despite all evidence to the contrary.” He gestured at himself, most likely referring to his cold, pale skin.

“Oh,” Osha said, laughing a little.

He caught her nervousness like one might catch a butterfly from the air. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. You can back out at any time.”

“No, it’s not—okay, it’s a—I’m a little nervous,” she admitted.

He rose to his feet, closing the distance between them. “I’m not so close to the edge that I can’t control myself, Osha,” he murmured, reaching up to tuck a loc of her hair behind her ear. His eyes were everywhere, dancing their phantom touch everywhere from her face to her chest in just a heartbeat. “I know what I am. You know what I am.”

“I do,” she whispered. “And I want this.”

“I think you just need the tension broken,” he said, a teasing smirk on his features. “May I?”

She had no idea what that meant, but she discovered the answer immediately when she nodded. He descended on her, and she held her breath, expecting pain—

But she got a kiss instead. His lips were soft, and though they were cold, they weren’t unpleasant. Her mind unwound itself from the tangled, anxious knot it’d been trapped in. His hands settled on her—one at the nape of her neck, the other resting on her hip. She realized that oh, she should probably be kissing him back, and moved, reaching for him just as he deepened the kiss.

A soft noise escaped her throat when he squeezed her hip, walking her back until her shoulders met the door. He didn’t pin her, per se, but the intent was clear: he’d trapped her. And she’d let him, gladly.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, ending his question on a slight nip of her lower lip. It thrilled her, that reminder of why they were there, of what was coming.

She nodded, feeling much more settled in her skin, even though her heart was still racing. “Um, do I—?” She began to tilt her head to the side for him, but his fingers tightened against the back of her head, stilling her.

“That’s a bit… intense for your first go,” he said, sounding almost awkward about it.

“But I want—” She cut herself off, shame flaring through her veins.

He waited for her to finish her thought, but the bravery couldn’t break through to her again. “You want to know what it’s like?” he inferred. She nearly slumped in relief, nodding. Stars, but he knew just what she needed, and Osha had no idea how much she needed that kind of intuition in a partner until now.

Qimir pressed a kiss over her pulse, which ratcheted up the speed considerably until he pulled away. “So responsive,” he murmured, but she could hardly hear it over the pounding in her ears. He pulled back, and Osha almost whined at the loss of his closeness. “Why don’t I tell you what I’m going to do to you? Would that help?”

She considered it, then nodded. He brought her to the bed, sitting them both down side-by-side. “Thank you,” she said quickly. “And I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about and nothing to thank me for,” he said, leaning back in to kiss her and scatter her thoughts to the stars. “I’m a selfish man, Osha. But I’m not so selfish to look past your discomfort just to get what I want.”

She got the feeling he didn’t offer the same consideration to many others, which made her feel all shivery. A wide, cool hand pressed against her shoulder until she leaned back, laying fully on the bed beside him. He loomed over her, face half-cast in warm shadows from the lone lamp in the small room. “Why am I lying down?”

He seemed to ignore her question as he spoke. “I’m going to bite your arm first,” he said simply, but the casualness of his words made her breath hitch. “Riiight… here.” He traced his fingers over the inside of her forearm, near the elbow.

“Not my wrist?”

He shook his head. “Too many delicate little veins, bones, tendons, nerves.” He flicked a fingertip off the tip of one of his fangs. “These might do some serious damage to your hands if I’m not careful. I’m in control of my urges, but might not be as controlled about how gentle the bite would be.” He lifted her arm up, and for a moment, she thought he was going to bite her right then and there—

He pressed a cold, wet kiss over the spot he indicated, and beneath his kiss, heat rose to the surface. An ache bloomed in her belly, pulling at sensitive parts of her.

“And you’re lying down in case you pass out from the bite. As I told you, it will hurt, but not that much. Your anxiety will only make it worse, especially if it’s not what your body is expecting.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling a little silly.

He kissed her arm again, gentle despite his insistence he could not be. “Next, I’ll—”

“Bite my neck?”

“I will check if you want more,” he said firmly. His eyes flashed bright red again, serious.

The care he exhibited over her choice, her consent, and her safety made her insides feel all warm in a way she wasn’t used to. Master Sol had been concerned for her safety, but where Qimir’s care was warm, Sol’s had often been chilly and uncomfortable.

“Okay,” she whispered, squirming a little on her back. He noticed the movement, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. “What will you do after that?”

“Then, if you’ll allow it…” His hand trailed lower, brushing the side of her breast, passing her ribs, almost tickling her waist, then over her hip to rest on her thigh. “I’d like to feed from here.”

Even though his hand was cold and they had a barrier of clothes between them, she could have sworn his touch left a searing brand against her thigh. “Why there?”

“Some major arteries are down here, very active. And I’m hungry, Osha.” He didn’t elaborate, moving his hand back up her body. He brushed over the fly to her pants, fingers snagging over the bulk of her belt. She gasped and flinched, but he paid it no mind. He traced his fingertips up, up, between her breasts before his cool hand rested at the base of her throat. “And I’m selfish.”

“Wh—how is that selfish?” she asked, fighting between her desire to know and her desire to feel. He leaned down, tracing his nose over the shell of her ear.

“Because when I’m done, you’ll feel the ache in your legs with every,” he kissed her ear, “single,” a nip, “step.”

Osha couldn’t help but moan. It was embarrassingly loud, and he was hardly touching her at all, but she was certain she’d never been more turned on and ready for him.

But Qimir didn’t comment, only looking her over with that heated crimson gaze—like he expected such a reaction.

“Do you want to know what I’m going to do next?”

She nodded, swallowing hard enough to feel the brush of his hand over the base of her throat. “Please.”

At that single whispered word, the energy in the room shifted. Qimir stilled, eyes squeezing shut as a shiver rippled over him. A low groan left his lips, the breath cool against Osha’s temple. “Fuck,” he whispered, taking a ragged breath and shaking his head. His hair fell into his face, out from behind his ears. It gave him a wilder look, eyes half-hidden behind a dark veil. “Fuck,” he repeated, drawing back a little and going still.

Osha didn’t dare move. She already knew Qimir was nearing the last reserves of his control, assurances made or otherwise. But all she’d said was please, and it nearly broke him apart. His arrival at her side in the cantina had made her mouth go dry, but now, it watered—she wanted to taste him, touch him.

“Fuck, Osha,” he said a third time. He got up on his knees and laughed, though there was little humor in it. He sounded doomed from where he sat above her. “You keep thinking whatever you’re thinking right now, and I’m not going to be as gentle or as polite as I would like to be.”

“Why do you keep saying that? Can you—can you read my thoughts or something?”

His face smoothed with forced ease, and he closed his eyes before shaking his head. “A vampire’s sense of smell is very good—and I can taste how aroused you are right now. Without even seeing, without even touching. I can taste how wet you are for me, Osha.”

Her blood oscillated wildly between hot and cold, the realization that his reaction back in the cantina had been because of—? Oh, shit. She was at once mortified by being so laid bare, thrilled by the acknowledgment of his predatory nature, and insanely turned on by his ease in talking about her desire. His were the hands of a dangerous man, but she was in good hands nonetheless.

“Sorry,” she whispered, chewing her lip again.

His hand lifted from her neck for his thumb to press down on her lip, freeing it from her teeth. “That’s my job,” he admonished, surprisingly soft. It made her heart flip in her chest once more. “So—” he took a breath, steadying himself. “Only after I’ve taken from your arm and your thigh, that’s when I’ll take from your neck.”

“Why?”

“The neck is quite the erogenous zone, Osha.” He brushed his fingers over her pulse, which tickled, but more than that, it set her trembling. “The nerves there are much more sensitive than the other places I mentioned. And therefore, the feeling you’d get from me feeding would be… heightened.”

“Heightened?” she asked weakly.

He did not explain. All he did was nod.

Fun things, she remembered him saying. Fun things would happen to her.

“That, and drinking from the neck is one of the most primal things I could do. You baring your neck to me… it both sates and encourages that part of me to give in to those instincts. I could kill you, drain you dry if I drank here first.” He almost sounded saddened by it, which was odd.

Osha brought her hand up to his wrist and wrapped her fingers around it. He watched her, fascinated by her curiosity. Osha traced her thumbs over his hand and pressed his fingers flat and open before she leaned up to kiss the center of his palm.

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?” He swallowed roughly, eyes flickering over her face again.

“I think I like your plan.”

He smirked. “Oh, you think you—”

“Shut up,” she groaned, reaching up to pull him in by the back of his neck. Their kiss was more heated than before. For all his bloodless skin chilled her, he possessed a fire in his flesh that did not dissipate and did not waver after the initial rush of feeling.

When she was certain her heart wouldn’t beat out of her chest, she said his name. It brought him back up, and she traced how his lips had grown a little darker, the shade of old bruises. He looked obscene like this, truly rumpled and fueled by want. “Yes?” he whispered, breathing quickly.

“Do it.”

His pupils dilated sharply, almost to the point where the crimson in his irises disappeared entirely. A heartbeat passed, then he leaned down and bit her exactly where he said he would.

Instantaneous burning pain slashed at the pleasure his kiss and touch had brought, setting her body rigid on the bed beneath him. He did not stop, even at the tight whimper that escaped her. At the stomach-flipping sensation of him withdrawing his fangs from her, she made another weak noise, wondering if this had all been a mistake—

But then his mouth touched down next, encompassing the bite mark wholly. Both his hands cradled her arm like something precious, something fragile. There was a bit of pressure—then release. She couldn’t help the wild moan at the new sensation, her surprise warring with the wanton waves of pleasure his mouth was giving her. She felt her eyes cross a little until the shock waned. Phew. Don’t pass out.

He remained hunched over her, on all fours across her vulnerable form. Once she steadied her breathing, she could hear the little noises he was trying to hide. Small whimpers and whines, near-animalistic against her skin. His noises rippled through her bones, resonating with her like a tuning fork pressed against her skull. Her hand moved without warning, pushing up through his hair and grabbing hold at the root. He made a small, distressed noise—

But she did not pull him off. She pushed him closer, feeling his lips slip against her arm even as he drank. His whines turned to moans, and his shallow breaths turned to deeper, harsher breaths than before.

Stars, if this was how it felt on her arm, how was it going to feel on her neck?

He seemed to have found himself again after some time—how long, she had no idea. The whole room had gotten a little fuzzy and sparkly, stars dancing against her skin. Qimir dragged his tongue over the bite, which stung a little in the cooler air once he let go.

Because Qimir had grown warmer since drinking from her—or she’d grown cooler. But her first guess was correct. He turned around to face her, and she saw the flush of blood high on his cheekbones, of life in his features.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice wet and raspy. Idly, his thumb brushed over the wound, but she wasn’t focusing on that. She could only see the dark red of her blood staining his teeth, his tongue.

She blinked a few times, processing that he was speaking to her. “Yeah. Holy shit,” she laughed. “I’m okay.”

Something soft and almost distressed fluttered through his features when she laughed, like he didn’t know what to do all of a sudden.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

He seemed just as stunned as she’d been by the question. “Good.��

“Still hungry?” she asked. His eyes traced down her body and rested on the place he’d planned to go next. She went for her belt—

“Let me.” He stilled her hands, and while he wasn’t blazing warm, the difference was notable. “Please.”

Her whole body jerked at that single word, and shit, she understood why he’d been so affected earlier when she said it. The amount of desire that could fit into a single syllable was fucking astounding, and she had no idea why she was so affected. She let her hands fall to the side, wondering what, if anything, she wouldn’t do when he said please like that.

Her belt clinked a little as he undid it, and then the fly of her trousers. She cursed when he tugged them down, only for the blousing straps to get caught in her boots. She leaned up to help and was hit with a wave of dizziness that had the room spinning. “Whoa.”

“Lay back down,” Qimir ordered, planting his hand on her breastbone. She complied, and the dizziness abated. He did the work for her, taking off her boots and pants with shocking gentleness—he’d really meant it when he said he could control himself. That taste he took from her arm had done wonders.

“What does—” she bit off the question she’d been about to ask again. Qimir needed to eat, and she kept delaying that.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, lips pressing against her knee. His eyes were a much warmer shade now, bright scarlet in the lamplight. She was unable to look away. “You can ask me anything you want, Osha.”

She took a shuddering breath and blamed her courage on the funny feelings his bite had given her.

“What does my blood taste like?”

He traced his nose over her thigh, lost in thought as he considered her answer. “I won’t feed you some bullshit line about it tasting like sunshine and fresh snow,” he said dryly, looking up at her with a half-grin. “Blood tastes like blood.”

“Oh,” she said, about to feel silly again—

“But the warmth of it… it burned at first. Like drinking tea when it’s too hot. Scalding.” His thumb brushed little circles over her thigh, and he sunk down to sit on his heels between her thighs. It felt like an entirely inappropriate place to sit and have a think, but he seemed comfortable, so she didn’t say anything. She leaned up on her elbows as he continued. “And then, the longer I drank, the warmer my body became, and the more I could enjoy it. Enjoy you. And your warmth… it tastes like life. It tastes like the only light in a vast, cold darkness.”

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say more, but instead, he pressed his face against the inside of her thigh. For a few long minutes, he stayed there, just breathing her in. This close to where he knew she was wet and aching, she could only imagine what was running through his mind—or if her scent and taste stilled those thoughts in their tracks.

She put her hand back on his head, threading her fingers through his hair and tugging him forward. “You promised me another bite, and you’re still hungry,” she said. When had her voice gotten so husky and sensual?

He shuddered, moving where she wanted with no resistance. His throat bobbed as she pulled him back, exposing his own neck to her. His eyes sparkled with intrigue, like she was a wonder. “I did. I am.”

“So do something about it.”

“But you’re hungry, too,” he said, fighting her hold so he could level a look at her. She felt like she was wearing nothing beneath that gaze, like his hot stare had incinerated every bit of clothing left on her. “An appetite for something you can’t eat… but can fill you anyway.”

His fingers danced up her inner thigh, rubbing longingly over the darker veins beneath her skin before moving up and up and—

Osha jolted when his thumb pressed against the soaking-wet material of her underwear. “Can I feed you too, Osha?” he asked, that damned thumb moving in slow, precise little circles exactly where she needed from him.

She was seconds from making a mixing business and pleasure joke, but those words caught in her throat, leaving her only able to nod furiously. Qimir’s eyes flicked down to where his hand was splayed over her hip, just his thumb touching her indecently. He turned his hand and teased his fingers beneath the wet fabric. She held back her moan as his knuckles brushed over her aching core, where she needed him most.

“I don’t want to hear you holding back another fucking breath from me, Osha.” His eyes were suddenly ablaze, locked on hers. “Understand?”

She nodded, but at the increased intensity of his stare, she found her words again. “Yes, I understand,” she squeaked.

“Good.”

With that, he dove in. He pulled her underwear to the side, which made everything seem that much dirtier and taboo as he licked and sucked at her with abandon. True to her word, she didn’t hold back, grasping at his hair and practically shouting his name. The pleasure she’d gotten from him feeding on her was a strange, full-body kind of ache, like she was drowning in it. This pleasure, by comparison, was brutal, a crueler death than the other.

Burning and drowning.

He never stopped moving, not when he slipped one of those long, cool fingers inside her and not when her hips couldn’t help but rock up against his hand. She felt unbridled, chasing after an end she couldn’t see. But he guided her there nonetheless, never restraining her even once. He drew back after some time, sucking his finger into his mouth before returning his touch with another finger inside her. Osha moaned, settling into the rhythm and rolling against his hand.

Fuck, this was the best idea ever.

Qimir pressed his cheek against her thigh, just watching how his fingers moved in and out of her, seeing and feeling the way she grew tighter around him when he touched her just right. He was nearly locked in a trance, like he could spend the rest of his life just watching her fall apart from his touch.

She (barely) had the ability to speak a string of words that made any sense. “Qimir… please… c’mon, you said…”

Okay, maybe sense was stretching it.

Qimir caught her meaning, checking with her to make sure she wasn’t at risk of passing out for one reason or another. The bite on her arm wasn’t bleeding for whatever reason, and she wanted to know what it felt like with his teeth so close to where he had his hands. Wordlessly, he drew her leg up and over his shoulder, pressing his face against her thigh again as his attention caught on the way she seized up around his fingers suddenly. “Nervous?” he asked, his voice all throaty and rough.

“I won’t be if you just—”

He struck, sharp fangs sinking into her once more. The burning had felt all-consuming from the bite on her arm, but this time, it warred with the pleasure he was giving her just inches away. Instead of one drowning out the other, they intertwined in a song, leaving her ears ringing as she gasped for breath.

He pulled his fangs out and repeated the process anew, pulling her blood into his mouth with a helpless moan. He rolled his whole body against her, tongue coaxing out more and more of her blood as his fingers took up their rhythm once more. The waning effects of his first bite surged in, cranked to a higher intensity than before. The leg not around his shoulder shook as ecstasy began encroaching on her senses.

“Fuck, fuck—!” Osha’s voice broke when he pulled her over the edge. It felt like nothing she’d tried by herself in the privacy of her bunk and even less like anything she’d tried with a partner. She was certain she was hurting him, pulling at his hair like she was, but nothing could get her to let go until the pleasure abated.

And still, he drank.

She gave a weak whimper. “Fuck,” she said a third time. “You’re so good,” she whined.

Qimir gave a groan in return, and a deeper, subtler rocking motion joined his hand and his mouth. Fuck, he must have been grinding his hips against the side of the bed. She relinquished her hold on his hair to pet him gently, smoothing the strands out of his eyes and holding them back so she could see him better.

Red eyes lolled over to her in his first graceless move of the night. He seemed drunk, caught between watching her, fingering her, and drinking from her thigh. “So good,” she whispered again, brushing her thumb over his temple. His eyes closed, a furrow forming between his brows. She had no time to be concerned before he licked over the bite with his wet tongue. It left a smear of red behind on her skin, which he lapped at repeatedly until all traces of her blood had been consumed.

He gently slipped his fingers from her. That bone-deep ache had been abated somewhat from her orgasm, but his hand was nowhere near enough for what she truly wanted, what she needed. Qimir rested against her thigh again. His hair fell into his eyes, forcing her to focus on his lips. He licked them almost compulsively, like he had to ensure that every drop of her taste was safe behind his teeth.

“You—you okay?” he asked, his breath catching in the middle of his sentence.

She was. There was no wooziness, only the warm embrace of post-orgasm bliss. “I’m perfect,” she said, giving in and running her fingers through his hair again. It was thicker than it looked, and much softer than it had any right to be. He pressed into her hand like a cat, eyes still closed. “Are you alright? You seem…”

“Drunk?” he asked, cracking an eye open. A languid, bloodstained smile crept across his lips as he looked at her. “Yeah. Feels like it, a little. Might be the F—fucking incredible taste of you.” He brushed his thumb over the bite on her thigh before rising up with a soft groan.

His stumbling words almost concerned her were it not for the clearly straining bulge in his pants. Slowly, she sat up before him, nearly face-to-face with his erection.

While he just… stood there. He watched her with a slightly confused look on his face. There it was again, like he was puzzling her out or something.

“What?” she asked, unable to summon the sharp, defensive bite of her words this time.

“Nothing,” he sighed, reaching down to cup her face. His face followed, but he stopped himself just before he kissed her. The hesitation was clear; he didn’t know if she wanted to try the taste of herself—her pleasure or her blood.

Osha decided for him, pulling him in again as they both fell back against the bed. She moaned at the tangy, sharp taste on his lips and tongue. She didn’t feel the same way he did, about the warmth and the light in the darkness. Instead, she only tasted something wild and powerful. He caged himself around her, still fully dressed while she remained naked from the waist down. He probably did so for her comfort, knowing the chill of his body wouldn’t feel very nice. The consideration made her feel… safe. What a paradox to feel safe for the first time in years in the arms of a deadly apex predator.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked after some time, nosing beneath her jaw but making no attempt to continue his plans—that third bite he promised her.

“Nothing,” she sighed. Normally, such an admission would be met with skepticism, as that kind of answer to that kind of question was most often a lie. But this time, it was the truth. Nothing was on Osha’s mind. Not her worries about making ends meet, not her surviving grief over her family, not her remaining anger and frustration at the hand the Jedi dealt her. All that bitterness and anxiety had been safely swept aside. “Nothing at all.”

Qimir chuckled, the sound warm and soul-deep. “I believe you,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. This, of all the kisses and touches he’d given, felt the most intimate of all.

“Am I still bleeding from the… from the bites?” she asked, curious to look but unable to do so with a huge vampire lying atop her.

He shook his head, his hair tickling her nose. She scowled at the feeling and only received a teasing smile in return. “I have some measure of influence over that. More than just how you’d feel from the act, I can control the wound itself. If I wanted you to keep bleeding, you would. But, no. I wanted you to heal.” I wanted to take care of you, she imagined him saying next, though not a single word of that passed his lips.

“Can all vampires do that?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured. “Maybe some.”

“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to trace over the muscles and tendons in his neck. He was truly a masterpiece, and the more she ran her hands over his torso, the more she found she was right. He was absolutely fit beneath those baggy clothes, all rippling muscles and tight skin.

“Don’t mention it,” he said softly. Some emotion flashed through his eyes, and she didn’t know him well enough to even guess at it.

Qimir pressed his forehead against hers, and Osha was startled by how warm he’d gotten. “Do you… how often do you need to feed?” she asked, curious. How long had it been, for him to get to the desperate point he’d been?

He kept his eyes closed as he answered her question. “Ideally? Every two weeks, and just the amount you gave me from your arm.”

Concern lanced through her. Shit, it must have been a long time. She couldn’t imagine starving like that.

“But you don’t need to worry about me, Osha.” He pressed a kiss to her lips again, then gently tilted her head this way and that. “Have a preference for which side?” he asked, playful once more. He reminded her of a big cat, both prowling predator and playful in spades.

“Whichever one seems tastiest,” she said, letting her hand fall from his hair and trace down his spine.

His body stiffened the moment she touched some irregular bump over the deep groove of his spinal column. She withdrew her hand and left it to rest on his shoulder instead, getting the hint easily enough. He relaxed once her hand moved, but he was still all coiled muscle, the predator beneath his skin rising to meet her again.

“They both seem tasty,” he said, pressing his face into the crook of her left shoulder. She shuddered, latent full-body pleasure still coursing through her. It kicked up a notch at the press of his lips to her pulse point.

She didn’t realize what she was doing until Qimir stopped mouthing at her neck and stilled against her. With his thigh between her legs, it proved the perfect place for her to rock back and forth against him. It was firm, unyielding to her desperate search for pleasure.

“Need more, greedy girl?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest. She pictured dark rainclouds, a flash of lightning, rolling thunder. She shuddered and couldn’t even summon the urge to be embarrassed at how she was acting.

“Ple—” He silenced her with a kiss, moving his thigh away to bring his hand back to her center. “No,” she pouted. “I need more than that.”

He looked delighted to hear that. “More?” he asked again. “You sure you can handle more?”

“Yes, damn it,” she said, squirming again.

Suddenly, his hand jerked away, taking with it the shredded remains of her underwear. “Was getting in the way,” he said with a shrug.

Qimir rose up on his knees between her legs, deftly undoing the clasps at his pants and pushing them down. He was rough with himself compared to how gentle he’d been when he took her boots and pants off earlier.

He was hard and thick, and the head of his cock was a blushed, dark pink. Her mouth watered, arousal spiking once more, even after all he’d done to appease her hunger. One-handed, he stroked himself, watching her watch him. “You sure you can handle more?”

She gave him a scathing glare that silenced him but didn’t stop him from grinning at her. Even now, the sight of his fangs still inspired her heart to flip in her chest. Would she ever tire of it?

After tonight, she’d have to. Their ship was set to leave tomorrow, and she had to be there when it did. He didn’t.

Not letting that thought dissuade her from having a good time, she just nodded. “I want it. I want you to fuck me while you feed from my neck.”

A full-body shiver raced up his body, making his shoulders tense somewhat. What she couldn’t see before was now apparent: deep shadows raced beneath his skin, black veins pulsing with some dark energy as he fought it back for control. “Can’t say things like that,” he bit out, swallowing roughly.

“I wouldn’t have to say it if you’d just do it,” she argued.

Crimson eyes met hers, nearly glowing in the low light. The primal survival instinct in the back of her mind was screaming for her to run as fast as she could, but Osha didn’t give a fuck. She had what she wanted right in front of her.

“I’m fed enough to think straight now, but if I do—that, I might snap.”

Osha wondered briefly at what she’d really be losing if she died fucking a sexy vampire. A few knick-knacks in her bunk. A few friends who don’t understand her. Grief. Anger. Sadness. All in all, not much.

“I might snap if you don’t get inside me right fucking now, Qimir.”

He pounced. His hands were suddenly everywhere, just like she imagined back in the cantina. He grabbed at her, pulling her closer and closer into his body until there was no space left between them. It took just a few inches of adjustment for her to get exactly what she wanted from him.

His mouth hung open some when he sank into her, fangs glinting wetly in the low light. “Fuck, Osha,” he gasped, shuddering. Just like his fingers and mouth, his cock was cooler than she was, sending a shocking contrast of feeling through her veins.

Osha moaned, half her body confused by the sensation and the other half eager for him to sink another part of him inside her. She reached for him as he came down, hips starting to roll against her in smooth, deep strokes that had her practically gasping. He was thick, thought-stealingly thick. The noise she made wasn’t remotely coherent, echoing those twin feelings of confusion and lust as he fucked her.

“If I—if I’m taking too much…” he panted, looking down at her with fevered, scarlet eyes. “You fight me. You punch and bite and pull at me. You use whatever—whatever you need to get me off of you.”

She couldn’t form words but nodded at him.

He struck like a viper, fangs sinking into her neck like they were always meant to be there. Osha screamed, half-ecstasy, half-agony. Even when he pulled his fangs out of her and began to feed from her neck, she couldn’t keep quiet. Her moans were almost panicked from how amazing she felt. He was right; this was nothing like when he fed from her arm or even from her thigh. She couldn’t escape it this time, not when he was fucking her this deep and drawing her blood down his throat like it held the answers to the universe.

Her second orgasm took her by surprise. The third, hot on its heels, threatened to devastate her. After that, she lost count, lost in a roiling tide of pleasure as he took and took and took—and wasn’t that all she wanted? To be wanted enough to give herself over like this. Tears ran down the sides of her face, the ecstasy and fulfillment coalescing into an incredible crescendo.

Black and white dots burst in her vision, reminding her of meteor showers and lightspeed. Qimir shuddered against her, groaning into her skin, into her veins. With a sob, she felt another orgasm crash over her, overwhelming and ceaseless. She had no control of herself like this, and for half a second, she truly didn’t care if he drained her dry. Having known this pleasure, she could die right now, happier than she’d ever been in her life.

But he seemed to have found control, licking over the wound in her neck. His hand slid behind her neck to angle her head to him, and he paused just to look at the bite mark, marveling at it and brushing his thumb over it like it’d disappear. While her arm throbbed and her thigh ached like he said it would, her neck seemed to pulse with that lasting heat and pain, juxtaposing the pleasure his bite had brought.

Osha was boneless as he pulled out of her, feeling messy but unable to care at the moment. She closed her eyes as he wiped away her tears, sweat, and any evidence of their pleasure. His motions were so gentle, they were almost sweet. When he lay down beside her, arms curled around her, she had no more tears to cry—but he’d cause no more tears tonight.

His chin rested atop her head as they embraced, and for the longest time, neither moved. Her first words came out as a wretched croak. “You’re warm.”

Qimir chuckled, and she felt it against her cheek. His heart still thudded unnaturally slow behind his ribs, but he was warm and solid and real. That’s what mattered. “Thanks to you.”

He didn’t sound drunk, as he’d been after feeding on her thigh. He instead sounded… level. Satisfied. Full.

He spoke after they rested a while longer. “Don’t do anything too strenuous for a day or two while your body replenishes its blood.”

“Yes, doctor,” she grumbled, laying back down with him.

His laugh was softer now, carrying another feeling that tried to press itself into her mind. The Force had been good at telling her what others felt, but she hadn’t been connected to the Force in some time. It was probably just some post-coital haze.

Qimir murmured something to her, stroking his fingers over her shoulder. But Osha was too comfortable to concentrate, and dozed off.

He was packing up a bag when she woke. He’d put her pants back on, sans underwear, and even laced up her boots for her. He looked over when she stirred, taking inventory of her body. “Feeling okay?” he asked.

She supposed this was where he asked her to leave, yet the embarrassment didn’t rise to her cheeks like it normally would. “Yeah,” she said softly.

Then she cursed, the rest of the galaxy coming crashing back into her awareness at once. “Fuuuuck—” she groaned and checked her chrono. “Oh, thank fuck. I have an hour.”

“Don’t wanna miss movement,” he said, teasing. But he felt a little more closed off than he’d been before. He looked completely different than he’d been when they met. Gone was the deathly pale, starving vampire. Like this, he just looked like… well, a man.

His eyes were brown again. She didn’t know why this was the most disappointing part.

“Yeah,” she said, chewing at her lip.

He was in front of her in a heartbeat, moving so fast she didn’t even have time to flinch before he thumbed her lower lip away from her teeth. “That’s my job,” he said, his voice a quiet, fond murmur. When his hand turned, she pressed her cheek against it.

“Still warm,” she smiled up at him, gladdened by his lack of remorse over this whole… thing.

“Thank you, Osha,” he said, sounding slightly grave. “You’ve done me a great service.”

“Yeah, well. Ditto.” Ah, there was the embarrassment and shyness. Right on schedule. “Uh, if you…”

She trailed off, and he raised an eyebrow at her. She remembered the fervent order he’d given her before.

I don’t want to hear you holding back another fucking breath from me.

Her mouth went dry all at once, desire sparking beneath her skin. “If you wanna catch a bite in a few weeks, just look me up. We’re at this port a lot, I mean.” It felt overly familiar, attached in a way Master Sol would have chastised her for. But Master Sol wasn’t here.

Qimir leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss that stole any remaining thoughts from her mind, leaving nothing but…

Peace.

“I’ll find you,” he said, far too soft for what this was. But Osha allowed it, leaning into his touch until it was gone.

When she opened her eyes, she was alone.

Two weeks later

“I hope you guys can hear me,” Osha said to Pip, waiting for the merchant to hand her the long black shawl.

She had to pretend to be Mae, which was lying, thereabouts. For whatever reason, the racing of her heart felt like an omen. Something else pulsed beneath her skin, a feeling she had avoided acknowledging until then. She’d reached out to the Force back on the prison transport, but that had been fruitless. Even so, the closer she drew to the apothecary, the worse that feeling got, pulsing in three places in particular.

Heart pounding, she stepped in. She didn’t even see the man in the open doorway as she said, “Hello?”

But when he looked up, she felt her mouth go as dry as it’d done the first time he spoke to her.

It looked like she had found him.

Qimir grinned, half-smug and half-dangerous. “Hello.”

masterlist

#unhingery #oshamir #oshamir fanfiction #qimir x osha #the acolyte fanfiction #the acolyte

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franticmelody · 2 months ago

Text

The Last Masquerade

A Transgender Sonic the Hedgehog Fanfiction releasing in two parts, by two authors:

The Last Masquerade - The Silver Dress

It's the day of the Last Masquerade, and something isn't right. While Silver is excited to support his friend Blaze, he has been unable to find the perfect suit for the occasion, and he can't figure out why. With Blaze's help, the pair both express aspects of their identity that they had been keeping hidden, even from themselves.

A sister fic about identity, courage, and trust. The Silver Dress was mainly written by... Me! We follow Silver the Hedgehog through his day on the Last Masquerade, as he becomes enamoured with a particular dress in Blaze's dressing room. This fic was based heavily on my experience as a trans person and I really hope you all can relate to it. However, not all of this fic was written by me. Blaze's dialogue was written entirely by @astrophysician - Why? Well, because of...

The Last Masquerade - The Blazing Mask

It’s the day of the Last Masquerade, and something isn’t right. No matter how much she tries, Blaze just can’t put a finger on the discomfort that’s followed the ball’s arrival. It isn’t until Silver needs help preparing that she begins to parse what’s wrong— and together, they discover facets of themselves they’d never imagined.

A sister fic about identity, obligation, and friendship.

The Blazing Mask was mainly written by @astrophysician, and follows Blaze the Cat on her day on the Last Masquerade! Blaze prepares for her ascension to become Queen of the Sol Empire, and struggles with why that feels so... wrong. This fic was based on astrophysician's experience and journey as a trans person and is dedicated to all of the trans and nonbinary people discovering themselves every day. In this fic, all of Silver's dialogue was written by me! That's right, it's...

Two fics that occur simultaneously!

You can read one of them completely on its own, or both, and still have a great experience! Silver still develops during Blaze's account, and Blaze during Silver's! Obviously, we recommend you read them both for the full experience. These fics will be releasing at the same time,

Tomorrow! November 6th, 2024!

Please, please, please- Check these fics out! We poured our heart and soul into them and it would mean the world if you took the time to understand our experiences- We hope you identify and see yourself in them too.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #fanfic #ao3 #collaboration #fic collab #transgender #nonbinary #silver the hedgehog #blaze the cat

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chronically-ghosted · 1 year ago

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the days i spend with you

rating: T

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: >1000

summary: a snow-storm keeps you from meeting Marcus's family over the holidays so you cheer him up by maintaining Pike family traditions.

warnings/tags: literally none, so much fluff, bad jokes, talking with your mouth full which is bad manners, references to air bud (do y'all even know who that is), minor praise in a barely kinky way, no y/n

a/n: i was feeling festive and my beautiful beautiful moots answered the call! @yoursoulsunbreakable requested: What about making apple scented candles with Marcus P on a rainy day? 🕯️🍎 🍁 this was healing to my soul to write so there will be more autumn/thanksgiving themed oneshots coming soon! (if you like these, please go look at @trulybetty 's october x 500 -- she did all of October with these yummy prompts, so please check them out and give her a follow!)

🤍Masterlist

“Stop it, you’re going to make me laugh.”

“I’m not even doing anything.”

“You’re going to make me drop it!”

“What do you want me to do? Shut my eyes?”

“Yes!”

With a smile, your eyes flicker between the dribbling hot wax and Marcus, laughing as he stands up and goes to the other side of the kitchen. He pops half a Snickerdoodle in his mouth.

“Shee ‘m ev’n in a d’frnt room. ‘Appy now?”

Your distraction taken care of, you return your attention to the culmination of about eight hours of work. Arms straining with the heavy pot, you continue to pour out the amber colored liquid into the small glass container that came with the kit and you bite your lip, focus entirely on maintaining a steady hand. A whole number of things could go wrong here: you could spill the wax and have hot wax splash all over Marcus’s grandmother’s Queen Anne table, which could have been present at the original Thanksgiving. You could pour too fast and the wax would yank down the wick and then you’d have to pluck it out with tweezers before it could harden – naturally clumsy, adding speed to the mix would only incentivize more chaos.

But you hold steady, wrists tight, and the wax slowly fills to the top, the tiny string staying firmly around the chopsticks.

“That’s it, baby, you’re doing perfect.”

His voice makes your toes clench in your shoes and you bite your lip harder. Caught half-way between wanting his praise and finding even his voice a distraction, you block him out entirely and lean forward, just as the wax reaches the lip of the glass container. Like Marcus had shown you on the one he did just before, you flick your wrist up and the flow of the wax drip, drip, drips until the last bit is stopped by the edge of the pot.

For a moment, you worry about what you forgot to do or if you’ve missed a step – because everything looks too perfect. The wax is settling properly, a cinnamon apple smell pungent throughout the house, and the string holds strong.

Firm, warm hands slide over your waist as Marcus kisses your neck. His breath smells like sugar, the weight behind you a balm and a praise all its own.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” He asks quietly as he noses your ear. “You’re a natural.”

You bite your lip and run your palms over his knuckles, up to his elbows, then settling firmly on his forearms.

“I know I’m not as good as your sister, or your mom, but at least I didn’t spill everywhere.” You smile gently when he stiffens slightly behind you. Twisting in his arms, you put a hand on that smooth face you love with all your heart. He returns your smile, but it's dampened. You know he’s disappointed that the weather grounded all planes to Maine where the Pikes’ have a winter home – he had been so looking forward to introducing you to his family. “I hope I haven’t shamed your ancestors with my shoddy candle making.”

Marcus laughs and shakes his head, returning the hug around your waist. “You haven’t shamed anyone. I give that candle a ten out of ten.”

“And I burned the wax only once!” This time you laugh with him as he kisses your cheek. You forget how easy a happy Marcus shows affection, someone entirely different from the forlorn man you met all those months ago after he moved to Washington from Austin. “What’s next for the Pike family Thanksgiving Olympics?”

“Well, for a championship gold medal like that, I think all contestants deserve a hot chocolate and a repeat viewing of A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving.” He pats your butt and walks into the kitchen. “Save me a seat, will ya?”

You smirk then flex in a pose as you head for the couch like you’re showing off your muscles on the Miami boardwalk. “You got it, champ. Put me in, cap, I’ll bring home the gold yet again! Airbud ain’t got nothing on me! Those Rooskies can’t defeat my hockey skills and–,”

A hand catches your elbow halfway through a pretend hockey stick swing and you stumble back into his arms. You have a second to see his half-lidded eyes before he kisses you, your cheeks nestled between his palms. And you, predictable, go as weak-kneed as a dame on a tarmac. Your hands curl around his wrists, his cashmere sweater as soft as he is.

He nips at your bottom lip, almost a more affectionate squeeze than a real bite and you sigh, adjusting yourself to get closer to him. When he finally pulls away, you feel a little lightning-struck. You lift your heavy lids to his rich, dark brown eyes. The smile he gives you is a full on Pike smile, nothing dampened or dimmed about it.

“Thank you for being here,” he murmurs to your lips. You can’t wait to kiss chocolate off his later. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Marcus.”

There is no silence with Marcus, only quiet contentment. Outside, the snow patters softly against the windows, piling up in the eaves of the house and the bends of the trees and the curves of the cars, the miles of road – a truly snowed-in Thanksgiving.

“Marshmallows with whipped cream?”

“Marshmallows with whipped cream.” You nod seriously. He lets you go and you kiss him once more on the cheek before going to find a good blanket to snuggle under. His heart so full it truly might burst, he turns back to the kitchen to start heating up the milk.

So the weather ruined his plans this time around, the small black box remaining hidden in the bottom of his suitcase. Well, there is always Christmas to do it in front of his family. And if the weather continued to thwart his perfect proposal, he’d do it in the damn driveway if he had to.

He didn’t want to waste another second with his ring anywhere but your finger.

#marcus pike #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fanfic #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #thanksgiving 2023

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themandjetofra · 2 months ago

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The Nejeru and the Presidential Election in America

Hey everyone, I know I’ve been a bit dead recently. Sorry about that! I haven’t had much new art to share lately, though I’m hoping to work on a drawing of Ammut sometime this weekend. Honestly, I think I’m done trying to stick with weird blog format. It just feels too forced and doesn’t align with what I want this space to be lol.

Im not going to give you the "Oh, not to get political, but..." stuff here. Yes, yes to get political. I am going to get political because, frankly, this is my blog, my space, and I can express my thoughts freely. If you don’t fw with that, you’re more than welcome to leave. I genuinely can’t stand Trump supporters. This isn't the place for you.

Yes, both Trump and Kamala have massive flaws, but let’s face it, American presidential elections have always been choosing between two evils. But the fact that an actual felon managed to win just blows my mind. It’s appalling to think that people are willing to overlook his blatant disrespect toward women and the LGBTQ community (both of which I’m a part of). Sure I might lose my rights, but at least gas will be cheaper... /s

This election has been a heavy blow to me, and honestly my soul. I’ve been pouring my heart into prayers and spells, asking the Nejeru for guidance. And yeah, I’ll admit, it stung a lot when it felt like my prayers fell on deaf ears to them. I’ve spoken to others in my faith and even folks who follow other ancient pantheons, and I’m not alone in feeling upset and betrayed.

So, I had to take a step back. I needed to breathe, to distance myself from everything—my work, my faith. But that doesn’t mean I lost my belief in the Nejeru. They’ve been there for me countless times, and I know that. Instead of letting my frustration consume me, I chose to reflect on it. Why couldn’t they intervene this time? Or, maybe, why wouldn’t they? And after some time to think, I eventually reconnected with my faith.

One thing I know is that we need to see the Nejeru in the context of their origins— Ancient Egypt. If you didn’t know, every Pharaoh was essentially a dictator. Even under divine guidance, bad things still happened. Some years, the Nile didn’t flood. Sometimes, things just went wrong. The Nejeru aren’t like the God of Christianity or Catholicism. They’re not “all-powerful.” If they were, they wouldn’t need a pantheon of over a hundred gods to manage different forces. They’re incredibly powerful, yes, but there are limits to what they can influence.

A major factor is the concept of free will, something that was deeply important to the Nejeru. They believed in allowing humans to make their own choices, to live their lives as they wished, even with rules in place. As Ra said in the Coffin Texts (1130): "I made every man like his fellow; and I did not command that they do wrong. It is their hearts that disobey what I have said. This is one of the deeds."

No god controls our souls. They don’t dictate our choices. Sure, they may judge us after death, but what we do in this life is entirely up to us. I highly recommend checking out “The Dispute of a Man with His Ba”, a translated story that implies much about free will in Ancient Egypt. When it comes to elections, that is free will. The Nejeru aren’t going to intervene in a democratic process where individuals are making their own choices. Whether people are misinformed or not, it’s still their decision. The outcome, as frustrating as it might be, is not something that the Nejeru can or should control. Doing so would mean infringing on the free will of millions of people. So, please, do not put the blame on the Nejeru. They’re not responsible for the choices people make. But we can lean on them for guidance through these hard times. Take care of each other. Take care of yourselves, check in on your friends, and remember, you are not a burden to anyone. Let’s focus on how we can support one another through this. Sending love and strength to you all.

- spheenx

💗

#kemetic #ancient egypt #egyptian mythology #egyptology #kemeticsm #nejeru #america #us politics #usa #usa politics #usa news #election 2024 #us elections #lgtbtq #women

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boxed-n-bottled-arson · 3 months ago

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DO YOU WANNA SUPPORT A WICKED SICK INDIE PROJECT? PLEASE PAUSE FOR A SEC AND GIVE THIS A READ!!!!

Hi! I don’t really make posts about the shenanigans I get up to nowadays, but for the past year or so me and six other friends have been pouring our heart and soul into a neat little indie project called “Project Ghostie”. It’s a mystery/comedy/minor dystopia audio drama about a found family of graffiti artist ghosts trying to discover how they died. The entire story is seen through the perspective of a reporter character aka the viewer! I would absolutely love it if you guys would give the first episode a quick watch/listen, as I am the co-creator and one of the main VA’s of the show!

So, if you like:

Shows made by queer people (all of our VA’s are trans and queer! With the creators being an Aroace demi-guy and a beloved unlabeled king :) )

Shows featuring queer characters (We have main characters that use a variety of pronouns including it/its, they/she/he, he/they, and they/them!)

Shows focused on found family dynamics instead of romance (I as the head writer am aroace and can 100% guarantee there will be no romance plots in this show and instead just a lot of family dynamics and friendships)

Shows with anti-capitalist themes and crime (yippee!)

Shows with cool silly references (Our banner totally doesn’t features refs to a mcyt creator I adore or a fake singer with blue pigtails hehe)

Shows that you can listen to and/or read! (Yup! Don’t wanna listen to Project Ghostie? We have a fully written/novelized version instead you can read for free! Link to it is in the video description :D)

Shows that can GUARANTEE no AI used ever in the creative process (This series will never feature or endorse generative AI in its writing, art-making, or voice acting process. Fuck generative AI, that shit can burn in hell)

Shows that can be enjoyed by ANY kind of viewer (I used to listen to a lot of audio dramas that had a character that was supposed to ‘be’ the viewer, yet never really encompassed everyone. So, I've done my best to make the viewer's character (known as just “the reporter”) fit people of almost any gender (they are referred to with they/them pronouns), weight, race, background, etc!)

Curious about the characters included? Check them out over at The Project Ghostie Tumblr, where we have some silly meet the characters posts!

Again, it would genuinely mean the world to me if you would even just skim through the video, follow the YT channel/Tumblr, or reblog this post. This project is legit my child and is basically a ton of unfinished projects lovingly sewn together to make something I am unbelievably proud of. Me and my friends make absolutely no money off this, it is just our silly passion project, but we intend on making 25 episodes plus some cool bonus stuff, and I’d love to have you along for the ride!

(And hey, even if you don’t like the story, maybe just follow the Tumblr for some cool art? I’ve improved a lot since I last posted my art on here, and I know it’s not fandom related anymore, but if you like my goofy style, check it out ^w^)

Anyways, watch the first episode: HERE

Or read it: HERE

#Project Ghostie #audio drama #indie project #artists on tumblr #graffiti #graffittiart #oh boy i have been working on this for some damn long haha- /lh /pos #feels weird to actually be putting it into the world /lh #im so damn proud of me and my crew tho :))

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rodolfoparras · 1 year ago

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MERRY CHRISTMAS SWEETIE! (And happy holidays in general 🫶)

I ENDED UP NAMING MY PRECIOUS BOY MILO LIKE YOU SUGGESTED! (My Soon to be giant kitty) HE’S GETTING BIGGER ALREADY! AS I WRITE THIS HES CURLED UP WITH ME HAVING A NAP

It’s now stuck in my head that price was the stereotypical type of guy who said he doesn’t want a cat/cats and wouldn’t participate in caring for ‘the little bugger under any conditions’. but ended up getting one for Christmas as a gift from the 141 (I couldn’t chose who this is just in my head and I need to ramble) and to no one’s surprise it became like his child. He’d come home to a little furry bundle weaving around his feet and meowing at him, letting it sleep on his pillow up next to his head and buying it its own presents for special occasions.

That’s my little ramble for the week, Mwah!

-🎸 anon

HELLO 3937:7 I AM SO HONORED SUGAR😭😭 idk why but milo is such a sweet and pretty name and definitely fits ur little baby that will grow into the sweetest AND prettiest boy😌🫶🏻

Hear me out bc I love love love this so much

Let’s say soap picked up a stray took it home back to base and it’s an old chubby feisty little gray cat

While the rest of 141 are getting familiar with the cat price had yet to find out about him because he’d been out on a mission so when Price walks in and goes to sit on his favorite couch he sees an uninvited guest sitting on the spot and price is like what is that ?;?; and soaps acting all innocent like that’s a cat sir and price is like I know that what is it doing in here and soaps like sir we found him outside can we please keep him and price is looking at the rest of 141 for back up but they’re either avoiding his gaze or petting the cat and he’s like fuck me.. alright but keep that thing out of the kitchen and out of my chair and gaz is like his name is Leo and price is like don’t care if I see a single hair in my food all four of you are getting kicked out

So that’s when 141 decide to keep him but price is still very cautious around leo

Leo calls out to price bc he wants pets and price is like nope forget it and leaves the area entirely one time he almost sat directly on top of leo bc he was hiding under a pillow on the couch price jumped so high he’s sure his soul left his body and ever since then he lifts every pillow and check to make sure that he doesn’t squish leo to death with his Voluptuous ass

One night it’s pouring outside and price just happens to look at the spot where leo usually rests and he notices that he isn’t there and he’s thinking to himself he can’t be out there its pouring outside and he scrolls through Channels and tries to think about something else but he can’t help but notice how strong the wind is blowing and he’s cursing under his breath as he walks up to the door, opens it and in flies leo soaked to the bone before he goes to warm up next to one of the old elements and he’s talking to leo like why would even go outside in this weather he’d quickly stop when he realizes he’s basically talking to himself here

Leo starts relying on price to open doors for him when he sneaks out and every time price will scold him like a child before realizing how ridiculous he sounds and one time when he opens the door for Leo, the cat comes up to him asking for pets and he’s like no no you’re wet- (heavy sigh) you don’t really listen do you? He’d said before petting leo gently

#alec answers #🎸 anon

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saltsicklover · 2 years ago

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Bloody Knuckles - Fan Mail Pt. 7

Title: Bloody Knuckles - Fan Mail Pt. 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3925

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, blood, anger. Steve Rogers being the absolute worst. Angsty as hell, honestly. Let me know if I missed anything.

I am so sorry in advance.

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Ace is ready to take on the world, at least that's what she tells herself, heading out of the apartment, ready for a long awaited day off, but the letters she found stacked in her mailbox give her pause. It's been a few days since she checked her mail, the wanting to hear from Bucky swollen in her chest but the exhaustion from work kept her walking past her mailbox. Three envelopes sit in a stack, each with the return address to Avengers Tower, each baring a unique date and name, the handwriting impossibly different from one another.

She flips through them, first ripping open the letter she knows came from Bucky. Her heart flutters a bit as she unfolds the bright yellow paper. She reads over the words, taking in each swoop and curve of the delicate letters. The way Bucky poured his entire heart into his words manages to bruise hers a little but the idea that he thinks she may not be real, a con, a flat out lie absolutely breaks her.

Tears rim her eyes, blurring the lines of the letter. She runs her fingers over the end script, her fingertips tingling, "With too much hope and heartache". The line eats at her heart straight through her ribcage, lungs constricting with uncertain pressure. A small wheeze escapes her lips, morphing into a bit of a moan, the sound soaked in a new sort of pain she hasn't felt before.

Ace has felt enough pain for a lifetime- enough fear to drown in and somehow she has stayed afloat. But this letter from Bucky threatens every feeling she has ever swallowed.

This is nothing like the feeling of betrayal that she came to know after she found out her blood family once served Hydra. It's not the feeling that of broken grief she processed after their death, or the hurt that came from each new form of abuse they threw her way. It's nothing like the way her stomach swam as she poured her heart out to her therapist, or the way her limbs went numb when she sent that first letter.

This is heartache. For both of them.

How could he ever think that she wasn't real; her most sincere self poured into each letter she sent him. The way she took time to collect and curate things to send Bucky, just so he could actually get the chance to know her, and he still manages to think that maybe she isn't real.

How could she not be real?

But the way he begs to know her twists her thoughts like vines. The way the letters swoop cut into her like knives. There is an inkling of desperation that seems to drown her, the words constricting all of the air from her lungs. They burn- both the words and her lungs, in equal measure.

He must know that she is real, he has to. You don't beg that way for someone you consider a threat, a tease, or a game. Hell, you don't beg at all. The way Bucky has poured his soul out is no where near begging or pleading.

That's the way one yearns.

Too much hope and too much heartache- too much, far too much.

That thought hits her like a ton of bricks, knocking what little breath she has flat out of her chest in a strangled wheeze. Ace is caught somewhere between hurt and pure reverence. Bucky cares for her in kind, the way she does with him, the notion, the understanding, now settling deep within her bones as she drags a ragged breath into her lungs.

Ace shoves the paper back into the envelope, her movements a bit too harsh, crinkles and folds making new purchase on the page. Ace shoves it to the back of the pile, ripping open the next one. Little bits of paper fall from the torn edges, discarded on the floor as a single tear slips down her cheek; her world spinning around her as the tear marks down her face, her strength wavering. Ace unfolds the paper, a singular piece of lined notebook paper, a couple of short paragraphs scribbled down in black ink.

"Dear Ace, Dude, I am writing to tell you two things. Yes, I know I could have texted you, but what's the fun of that? First off, you should've seen Buck and Steve. They were at each others throats while also being as far apart as possible.

They were definitely fighting over you, but I got it all taken care of. Steve somehow got it into Bucky's head that you could have been a terrorist or something, but I set them straight. Which brings us to the other thing, I let it spill that I came to meet you, and I think Bucky is jealous, so heads up!

Talk to you later! - Sam

PS: Schedule me in for another shave and probably a haircut too, you're my go to hair guru now."

A cold snap runs through her bones, then red hot anger bubbles to life, snuffing out any remaining cold from her bones. Raspberry bruises paint themselves under her skin, scorching and weeping. All of the pieces are starting to fall into place. Bucky wouldn't have gotten that twisted idea into his mind on his own, even with the few letters they have exchanged, Ace knows that.

She knows him. Hell, she know Sam too, and he wouldn't have let Buck concoct such a tail.

The idea being ridiculous within itself, she could never be a terrorist, not when she is the kind of person who stresses about letting vegetables go bad in the bottom of her fridge. Terrorists don't care about the random head of broccoli in the bottom drawer, they have bigger things to worry about. But, Ace? She is definitely thinking about the broccoli; and the client who sneezed during their haircut causing her to nick their ear with her scissors. That incident happened two years ago and it still cycles through her brain. It all cycles through.

She knows that she shouldn't be angry, hell, she doesn't blame Steve for wanting to look out for Bucky, she just hates the immediate distrust. Maybe it comes with the job, the predisposition to judge, to keep people at arms length.

Trusting the people in front of you doesn't exactly work in a war zone, especially when you are the one who is running into fire first. Ace tries to shed the discomfort from her bones and the lingering anger that still pulses beneath her skin.

Ace's eyes dart over the post script of the letter and a small chuckle manages to crawl out of her chest. She rolls her eyes, the notion feeling a bit silly as she pulls out her phone and writes a note to put Sam down in her books.

She shifts the envelope to the back, the name on the next one stares back at her.

Rogers.

Her heart skips at the name, anger once again beginning to breathe through her. It nips at the spaces between her ribs and the cartilage that holds her her chest together. It aches as it moves through her veins, burning her up from the inside out.

Maybe she shouldn't feel this way. Deep down she knows that Steve has always been protecting Bucky, after all, that's what heroes do- hell, that's what friends do. Yet, she can't help but to feel beyond hurt knowing that not only had Steve weaved this tail about her, but he hand fed it to Bucky.

She doesn't even want to open it, the urge to tear it to shreds tingles through her palms, radiating down to her fingertips. Ace takes it between her fingers, the envelope crinkling as she moves to tear it in two.

With a huff, Ace moves to tear it open instead of in half. She yanks the paper from the envelope, the anger thrumming throughout her body.

"Y/N" The letter begins, catching Ace off guard. No one has ever used her name, not outright like that. To Bucky, she has always been 201, he rarely addresses her outright. A hello has always been enough for them. Sam gave her a nickname, one that she has come to hold close to her heart. No one has ever given her a nickname so freely before- let alone one that continues to be used. The nickname warms her from the inside out, the idea of having friends blooms inside her chest.

"Y/N, Stay away from Bucky Barnes. He is fragile- still healing, and your presence in his life is going to hinder that. Do not write him anymore, and do not make me ask again. -Steve Rogers"

Three fucking sentences. That's all it takes for Ace to crumble.

The anger pours out of her in waves, wrecked sobs accompanying the hot tears that pour down her cheeks. The page is crinkled tight into her palm before she can let out the next shaky breath from her lungs.

Within the minute she is out the door of her apartment, throwing herself into a taxi. The paper is still gripped tightly in her hand, the other letters buried in the pocket of her rain coat. As the cab meanders down the road, fat raindrops begin to fall. The pattering of the water on the windshield mixes with the streaking sound of the wiper blades, the chorus around her makes Ace's skin crawl as anger boils within her.

The cab hits traffic about six blocks from the tower and Ace wriggles around in her seat. The anticipation causes her to shove money at the driver while she throws open the door. Mumbling a 'keep the change' Ace heads out into the storm, stomping her way through puddles towards the tower.

Ace pulls out her phone, dialing Sam's number without a second thought. The droplets of water make her taps on the screen difficult for the device to read but the line begins to ring a moment later. The call waiting buzz drones over the line, ringing and ringing. She makes it half a block before she is met with his voicemail.

"You've reached Sam Wilson, leave a message and I'll give you a call back."

"Fuck" she curses, shoving her phone back into her pocket. She continues to let the anger guide her forward, her clutch on Steve's letter never letting up. By the time she arrives, her hair is drenched, sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Droplets of water stream down her face- it's unclear which are from the rain and which are from her puffy, red eyes.

Ace leaves puddles in her wake as she stomps up to the front desk, a tight lipped smile spread across her cheeks in order to seem somewhat friendly. The man behind the front desk is barely awake, his face resting in the palm of his hand. His eyes are half lidded, staring at his computer screen.

She stops a few feet from the desk, looking at the scene before her. She knows she should talk to him, that's the proper thing to do. It is literally this man's job to check people in and out of the building, but at this point she couldn't care less. The anger is clouding her judgement. So, she moves right, avoiding the desk all together, heading straight for the elevators.

A women asks Ace what floor she is headed to without looking at her. Ace scans her eyes over the buttons, not sure which to pick. She drags her bottom lip between her teeth for a second.

"You are here for the gala, right?" The women questions her, shifting her gaze up to meet Ace's. Her expression shifts as she takes in Ace's dripping form, unable to hide her disgust. She checks her watch to fill the moments while she waits for Ace to respond.

"Actually, I am here to cut Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers' hair. They usually comes to me, but asked me to make a house call," Ace chuckles a bit, holding up her bag, "But yes, for the gala." The lie she tells leaves her lips and she feels no remorse for it.

Maybe it's the wrath that's taking up too much space in her chest to leave room for any other feelings or maybe she can lie if it's for Bucky, but either way she doesn't care. The air in the elevator is heavy with humidity but free of tension.

The women hums out a sort of acknowledgement before pressing a button. They arrive to the floor a minute later and the women motions down the hall.

"Check the gym," Is all she says before disappearing around a corner without another word.

Ace pushes through a set of double doors, the gym smelling of sweat and bleach. The scent mingles in her chest with half breathes and pressure, her lungs sore from the sensation. Her hands are numb too, from both from the chill of the rain and from how hard she is gripping onto that fucking letter. White knuckles, tired lungs, and aggravation seems to be all she is in that moment.

The gym is almost empty, a couple of lone agents packing up their things on the far side of the room. She is basically invisible as she drags her eyes around the room. Her breath catches when she catches Steve tucked away in the corner. He unwarps his hands, massaging out the tension in his hands that has built from his rounds at the punching bag. Steve brings a hand to his mouth, wrapping his lips around his split knuckle.

Without meaning to, Ace takes him in, every inch from his messy blond hair, seafoam eyes downturned and unbothered. The way he laps up the last bit of blood from his hand makes her stomach twist; she can almost taste the copper of the blood and it mixes with the bile that has begun to crawl up her throat at the sight of him.

Steve pushes himself off the bench, standing to stretch out his worn out body. He wipes sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt, his chiseled abs on display but Ace can't find it in her to care. Maybe if she wasn't so goddamn pissed of she would have looked, and maybe if she wasn't balancing on the blade between love and infatuation she would've enjoyed the view, but instead she takes this as her time to rush him.

She stomps over, not caring about how loud her steps are or the trail of water she leaves behind her. The feeling of her palms pressed squarely against his frame where his shoulders meet his chest sends a fire through her, igniting a new layer of anger. She pushes him with all of her strength and he actually stumbles a bit. The unassuming women standing in front of him seething with anger, it's evident in her eyes, but before he can ask who she is or what she wants, her hands are on his body again, pushing him back, again and again.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?!" She screams at him, the words clawing themself out of her throat. The words catch him off guard, almost as much as her hands do. His brows furrow, confusion stitching them together. He wants to put up his hands, show that he isn't going to hurt her, but all he can manage to do is lock his gaze on her face.

Steve takes in the puffiness of the bright red skin around her eyes. The dried remanence of tears crusted against her cheeks lead his gaze down to her lips. They are chapped over to the point where they look painful, and she is still yelling. She is yelling at him, words he hasn't bothered to listen to.

"Steve Goddamn Rogers, America's fucking golden martyr," She continues to scream, "Always knows what's right," Her balled up fists connect with his chest, not enough power to hurt him but enough force to make a point. Her fists continue to connect to any part of his body that she can reach, his chest, arms, stomach. Her words begin to get lost in her broken sobs.

She drops the letter that has been clutched so tightly in her hands. It lands on the floor, a crumpled up ball- three sentences lost in wrinkles of paper.

Ace lands a hit to his chest, breaking open her knuckles, the bright red leaking from her broken skin begins to coat over the plain of her fist. A few punches later, the skin on the other fist breaks open too.

"How dare you!" She repeats over and over again, the syllables getting clumped together with choked out cries. "How fucking dare you!"

The blood transfers from her hands to his body, the sight not registering with either of them.

Steve just stands there and takes it, unsure of what to say or how to stop the abuse that wouldn't end up with her breaking down even further. He wants to grab her wrists, beg her to tell him what he did wrong and who she is, but all he can do is stand there as she begins to crumble completely at his feet.

She is full on sobbing now, her face contorting. She attempts to rid her face of tears and snot with the backs of her hands but it only sort of works, leaving her face still smeared with wetness, streaked with pure crimson.

The doors at the other side of the room swing open, Steve's eyes snap up from the woman in front of him to see Sam and Bucky walk in, chuckling to themselves. Ace doesn't notice, she is too busy shoving Steve again. Her palms flat against his body as she pushes, the blood now rushing towards her wrists.

"Fuck you, Steve," She chokes out one more time, "Fuck you," Her voice is broken, scraping against her throat. Bile coats her tongue, the crying and yelling making her nauseous.

Steve makes eye contact with Sam, pleading for some sort of help. Sam notices the woman, then notices the blood. It covers her hands, droplets painting the floor beneath them. There is blood on the letter too, but no one seems to notice it.

Sam sends Bucky to get a first aid kit and the soldier disappears back through the door they came through.

"What the hell is going on?!" Sam shouts a bit, coming over to aid Steve. He takes a few steps closer, moving to see the woman. When she finally turns her face to look at him, the mixture of fluid on her face, she peers up at him through her damp hair. He recognizes her instantly.

"Ace?" He questions, holding his hands out to her. He wants to wrap his arms around her and comfort her, the sobs coming from her lips causes his heart to ache. "Ace, what's going on?"

With his words, she collapses to the ground completely spent. She shakes with rage and ragged breathes. Through her tears, she picks up the letter, now dotted with blood. She tried to unwrinkled it, but the thought of seeing it again makes her body wrack with another hollow cry. Ace holds out a half balled up piece of paper in Sam's direction. He takes it carefully between his fingers, working it open the rest of the way.

Sam drags his eyes over the words, "Y/N, Stay away from Bucky Barnes. He is fragile- still healing, and your presence in his life is going to hinder that. Do not write him anymore, and do not make me ask again. -Steve Rogers" The small paragraph awakens Sam's temper. He brings his eyes up to Steve, who is still standing in front of Ace, his back towards the wall.

Sam's expression narrows, his features tight with enmity. "What the hell did you do?" Sam questions him, his eyes trained on Steve's own.

Bucky walks in, first aid kit in hand. The sight before him causes him to stop. Steve stands with his hands up like he is pleading innocence. His blue eyes swim with guilt, easily read from across the room.

Sam stands off to the side, a bloody piece of paper in his hand, the other fist balled tightly against his side. Sam is squeezing his fist so tight, the bones of his knuckles threaten to break through the whitened skin that is pulled so taught around them.

Bucky's eyes drag down to the woman on the floor, her back to him. He watches as she runs her hands through her hair, her bloody hands shaking. He can hear he crying, attempting to stifle the sounds.

Nobody has notice Bucky standing there- the woman focused on Sam, who is locked into a staring match with Steve. No one moves for what feels like ages. Finally, Sam speaks.

"Steve, did you write this?" The look in Sam's eyes is nothing but pure challenge, "Did you threaten her?"

Steve gulps out a quiet 'yes'.

Sam straightens his posture out, squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw. He looks like he is about to step into a battle, but instead of running in behind Steve, his going up against him.

"Do you really think that Bucky is so 'broken' that he can't have a nice girl like Ace as a pen pal?" Sam's voice holds no question at all, he already knows the answer, it's written plain as day in black ink in front of him.

Steve mutters out another 'yes', eyes falling to the floor. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, like he is going to defend himself but cannot find the words.

Without a warning, the first aid kit clatters to the floor and Bucky disappears through the doors once more. Ace and the two men turn just in time to see Bucky's fleeting form through the swinging door, getting further and further away.

Finally, the door settles closed and Ace brings a hand up to cover her mouth. Steve can't pry his eyes off of the exit.

"Now you've done it," Sam mutters, reaching down to pick Ace up in his arms. He carries her out of the room, leaving the mess of blood and Steve behind them. He couldn't care less- his main focus now on getting Ace's wounds cleaned and dressed.

Steve is left standing in the thick air around him, his heart pounding against his chest. He is covered in blood and deserves to be. But the blood comes from the wrong source, instead of his own, he wears hers and somehow even through he never raised a hand to her, he can't help but feel like he was that small kid in Brooklyn again.

They always started the same way, a disagreement he met with words because he could never quite land a punch. They always ended the same way too, covered in blood, chest heaving and aching all at once. This time, though, Bucky wasn't there to save him, to throw the last punch, to end the damn fight. He can feel her blood beginning to crust over his skin, cracking and flaking away.

For the first time since the Winter Soldier, Bucky and Steve stand on opposite sides of the fight, and for the first time in this century, he knows one thing to be true:

This is the fight he is going to lose.

TAG LIST

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @songoficecreamandfireworks @crazymusicgirl104 @stany0url0calwh0res111 @ladifreakingda @itsteambarnes

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siremasterlawrence · 1 year ago

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Strong & Silent Type

His name is James a strong, hot, super sexy and silent type that consumes the room with his presence picking me up in front of my ole apartment building as I exit the front door to see him. “Hey sir” he says sweetly offering me his hand I feel him pull me into a hug as we met before. We head to his car as he open’s it for me as sit down in the cars passenger seat the ride is very quite as I had expected.

I laugh a bit thinking about the long wait he has put me through the last two years or so the wheels in his mind are spinning out of control as he is unsure of what to do or say to me. He tilts his head a bit making a little eye contact with me with his eyes still on the road and I take notice patting his legs as a sign. He sighs in relief thinking everything over in his mind and he starts to spread his lips.

He begins to tell me that he cannot believe in his wildest dreams that he is here and I politely remind him that it’s his fault he does the usual acknowledgment of his actions and he swears his love to me. I roll my eyes as we hit the end of the bridge to his home in Long Island. His garage door lifts up as en drives in settling down the car parks as the doors closed and we exit in to the garage finally.

It is a beautiful place with a pool in the back yard but I digress as we head up the side door staircase and we enter in great hype over the events that are about to occur in this place. “Nice place.” I state removing my jacket and following him in to his bedroom I kick the door closed to his shock as he drops his jacket and slip his sneakers off to the floor and his eyes rise to meet mine once more.

“Come over here NOW…When I say to come I expect you to rush over pussy. You think you are man amongst men a total badass huh?”

“No Sir! Please listen “

“Ssssshhhhh….”

“SLEEP”

“One two three”

“Drop! Good boi”

“Surrendering to my will”

“Nothing else matters”

“I own you now”

“When I kiss you your mind will go blank”

“When you hug me you will feel whole “

“I will be the center of everything “

“Your entire world”

“Mind, body and soul”

“Your existence “

“Your life “

“My voice the most beautiful song”

“My body a gods body “

“My words a never ending ballad of love”

I can hear the sweet sound of serenity wash over him as his back fell on to the wall as he swoons a bit shuffling side to listening to all of my words guiding him into the abyss of my power. He is under my hypnotic power of my thrall he hears me every image I am implanting on him takes shape all he can see is a golden staircase he placed a hand on the handle.

Take one step I inform that every step drops him even deeper moving his consciousness through his subconscious and inner mind the sights are filled with color interjecting wonderful scenarios in to his mind those of bliss. Meanwhile! My hands land on his body leaving me to a field day checking ever inch and crevice spreading down to under his feet.

At the bottom of the staircase I can see his feet become planted on to the ground firmly ready for it take shape he is automatically finding himself walking back into a strange room with just a bed and closet he finds a single orange pilot shirt, tan pants and white shoes. He gets dress then steps behind the bar shuffling to get himself together he places a coaster a glass upon it and pours me a drink.

Happily I remove his belt sliding it off of him it lands on the floor, undo his pants button letting it fly till it slid down, I kiss him nicely in a slow temp he hums and face plants to the floor. “Excellent! I will strip you naked right now, fuck you so hard till I cum in you and you fully rest in a newly merged in to one being reprogrammed body for my use only.

“Oooooohhhhhh Master!”

“What pussy?”

“I can’t remember what were you saying”

“Oh nothing Ben!”

“Nothing at all”

“Right! I am too stupid”

“Get in position “

“Yes Master”

“Very good! Get dressed “

“If you only had a real man”

“You are my real man”

“You are my everything “

“Those words”

“Yours and mine”

“Forever”

“Get with the program “

“Mmmmm”

“I am at your disposal “

The end

#ben affleck #hypnosis #mind control #hypno slave #reprogramming #hypno submission #mind control slaves #The Master Hypno Harem

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love-kurdt · 1 year ago

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Thick Skull (byler): V TEASER

Hey friends! I am working around the clock on Thick Skull: V. It is going to be the longest (and most emotionally taxing) chapter yet. I would set a deadline for myself, but the book is honestly writing itself right now and I don't know how long it will take. But please know that I am pouring my entire soul into this last chapter, and sticking around will be so so so worth it.

“We should be getting home, it’s past curfew. See you tomorrow?” Lucas checked his watch before standing up, taking Max’s hands to help her up. Dustin rose from his spot as well, giving Will one more hug on his way to the door.

“Yeah, sounds good,” Will agreed, “Safe travels!” Mike nodded beside him with a grim look on his face, which appeared more often than not these days. Will watched as their friends put on their protective gear to face the spores outside, and filed out of the basement doorway one by one. It still felt strange not following them. He couldn’t really accept the reality that Mike’s home was also his for the time being. Before their friendship fell apart the summer prior, he would have been basking in the glory of living in the same house as Mike. But recently, between Mike’s weird behavior, mixed signals, and potential lie about a life-altering event, all he wanted to do was escape.

He turned around once the door closed, beginning to clean up the empty snack bowls and Coke cans that littered the basement floor. Once everything had been thrown away, Will approached the staircase, but Mike stood in his way, leaning against the wall.

“So, you're out now, huh?”

Turns out they were going to talk about it.

#byler #byler tumblr #byler fic #byler fanfic #byler nation #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #will byers #mike wheeler

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friendsforsale · 8 months ago

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SHUDDER - a track from our upcoming sophomore album, Whatever Keeps You Up At Night

This album means a lot to me and it's probably the most important musical undertaking of my life. I've never felt more proud of something I've created, especially while collabing with Autumn and Anthony on it!

Autumn and I worked our asses off on the production of this album, Autumn bringing it to life with her composition more than I ever thought possible. We hope that our hard work shines through on this, as we spent many restless months hyper-tuning this album down to the smallest detail. I spilled my soul out into the lyrics of this album, several of the songs being about people that I've suffered at the hands of or who have hurt me in ways that don't really heal. Dredging up those past experiences for this project has opened some of those old wounds in a way, but at least that meant I could pour my tears, sweat, AND blood into this album.

This is the first track I wanted to release as a single. It focuses on an abusive relationship with someone who changes so much its as if they're being controlled by some other entity. The "Spider", an uncaring force that only cares about achieving its innate desires and doesn't care who it hurts in the process. This entire album is about abuse of different kinds and the often permanent damage that abuse does to us, often shaping our personalities in ways we often cannot detect ourselves.

When I first wrote most of these songs, I never would have envisioned that someone would care enough about them to bring them to life the way they lived in my head and I can never thank her enough for that. It means more to me than you could ever know. I couldn't have made this album without her and I hope her and my previous drummer Anthony are doing well in their current project: Vulning. (check their latest single out on Spotify)

I'm currently trying to ascertain more funds for this project to help finish it before Fall of this year. If you'd like to donate, please do so via our Cashapp at $FriendsForSaleMusic

Every cent counts and I'll make sure to include everyone who helps in the album credits. Thank you in advance if you do, it means more to me than you could ever know.

DOWNLOAD/STREAM

#featured #friends for sale #music #whatever keeps you up at night #releases

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phoenixyfriend · 4 years ago

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Rey Gives No F*cks About the Grandfather Paradox

Okay so since nobody’s suggested a fic under these terms, I ended up expanding on this post on discord and things snowballed. We kept to the basics of the entire plot revolving around Rey really hating her grandad and leveraging her blood relation to not be unalived about it.

With contributions by @atagotiak, @dracothulhu, @thepallaspalace, and several others. The title comes from @gelpenss.

The basic thing I absolutely need is this: Rey gets thrown back to the middle of the clone wars, and the subsequent plot leans in really heavily on her being, genetically-via-clone-dad, the daughter of the guy running the entire galaxy.

Nobody knows what to do with her.

The timing is mid-TCW for the past (because I want Ahsoka there) and vaguely between Episodes 8 and 9 because I... never watched E9 and don’t want to worry about the timeline. The only things that matter is that Luke is dead (he can die as he did in canon) and that Rey knows she’s Palp’s granddaughter (not the way she does in canon).

We'll say Luke found out from Anakin's panicked force-ghost and just went "well, fuck, okay, I should tell her this before she ends up in a situation like mine and finds out mid-battle or something."

Luke, prior to time-travel: Okay, so, now that I'm dead I know some things I didn't before. Like who your parents were. In the interest of full disclosure because I was in a very similar situation and I don't want you learning the way I did, I'm just going to come right out and say that your father was a clone was Sheev Palpatine. Rey: ... Luke: Are you okay? Rey: I don't know who that is.

(She grew up on Jakku, the history education was a little subpar.)

Setting The Scene

Imagine Rey showing up during or immediately before the clone wars. There’s this phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater who tells you that if you ran a paternity test, it would probably pop up the Chancellor. She may or may not bring up cloning. She accuses said Chancellor of being a Sith Lord.

Your other phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater, who may not be a teenager anymore but only barely, is very offended by this because Palpatine’s a Very Nice Old Grandfather Figure, but also he’s a little full of side-eye because if the blood test comes back as proof, then Palpatine had a kid and didn’t even know about them, or lied to Anakin, and that’s! Bad! Family’s important!!!

Palpatine hears about this daughter he apparently? Has? And is very confused because the timing doesn’t match up with ANYTHING he was doing, so the kid isn’t natural, and he says as much. (There is an explanation! It’s not a correct explanation, but he does come up with one.)

Finn and Poe and BB-8 all get dragged along because why not have the gang there? Nobody that’s already born, because [handwave] conservation of souls or something, IDK, point is the only person dragged along that’s even remotely close to already existing is Luke’s Force Ghost, who mostly hangs around begging Rey to be less impulsive. Finn is good because he is a nice polite boy, but for actual useful information they need Poe. The unfortunate situation is that the three do not land together. They land at the same time, in completely different corners of the galaxy. This means that nobody is there to curb Rey being her most impulsive self.

Time travel Rey knows two things. Luke’s dad ends up evil. Palpatine has always been evil.

She can solve one of these problems by killing the other, yes?

Rey: Ready to Rumble

See, the initial idea was this: Rey tried to break into the senate to kill Palpatine, got arrested, and then used the "he's biologically my father" card to get out of jail free. (Force Ghost Luke follows her like “please take five seconds to think this through.”)

But.

It would be very, very, very funny if The Force just dumps her in a flash of light in the senate building and she just attacks Gramps on sight. Just a shouted "YOU!" and no-hesitation attempted murder.

Palpatine has no idea what's going on.

Rey took maybe two seconds to get identity confirmation and then started swinging.

[Image Description: An individual in a green metal helmet with an eye slit, holding a pistol. In the upper left, upper right, and lower middle are the phrases “I do not know who I am...” “I don’t know why I’m here” and “All I know is that I must kill.” End description.]

Of course, she gets arrested. There are Master Jedi in the Senate. There are Clone Troopers. Palpatine isn’t the weak old man he pretends to be. Of course she’s stopped.

But she isn’t executed in time for Palpatine to stop her from ruining his entire reputation.

Immediately after Rey fails to kill her Shitty Granddad, Luke's ghost shows up and begs her to not talk about the Sith thing because it will completely undermine everything she's trying to do. Pass off the attempted murder as something else!

Rey, panicking: "that fucker left me on a desert planet for 10 years!" "You owe me 19 years of child support you son of a Hutt!"

The Jedi have to do the investigation, because the girl showed up with a laser sword, and the conversation is, uh... interesting. (“Where did you get that lightsaber?” “I got it from a mysterious old pirate lady I never met before. I don't know, I was being shown around by a smuggler and a Wookie.”)

Interviewer: Why did you try to assassinate the Chancellor? Luke: Say it wasn't assassination. Rey: It wasn't assassination. Int: You weren't trying to kill him? Luke: Assassination has to be politically motivated. Rey: This was, um... not political. Assassination is political, right? Int: You mean this was personally motivated? Rey: Yes. Int: I see. What personal motivation? Luke: Jakku! Rey: He's my grandfather. Int: ... Rey: Possibly father. Nobody was very clear on that. Int: ... Luke: Tell them to run a paternity test. Rey: Oh hey, a blood test would tell us which, right? Int: ............ Rey: I spent ten years as an orphaned scrapdealer on Jakku. He's my father. I'm kind of a little angry. Int: ........... Luke: Good job, kid. You bought yourself some time. Int: I'm going to get a medic to see about that parternity test.

Obviously, it comes back positive. Congratulations, Sheev, you’re the father.

Rey comes with a ready-made built-in excuse for hating Palpatine that nobody can question or fault her for!

Rey, pouring Truth into the Force: I didn't even know I was related to the Chancellor until a few months ago, but it's his fault I grew up the way I did, and he should take some responsibility!

The entire thing is mostly kept hush hush but someone leaks it to the press and Palpatine's ratings tank.

"Chancellor, I think we'll need to waive family visitation until she wants you a little less dead." "I would like to find out why she wants me dead, and indeed, where she came from." "...sir, for your own safety--"

Who would win? A master plan years in the making spanning decades of manipulating and work? or One (1) paternity test

"Okay, so, Rey Palpat--" "Ew, no, I don't want his name." "You--okay. Sure, we can understand that. Is there a name you would prefer to put on the paperwork?" Rey, who would have gone by Skywalker in honor of Luke but can't do that when Anakin is right there and all: "Can I think about it?"

Rey: I don't know what I want my last name to be but I know I don't want his, and most of the people I’d want a name from have famous families like you... Luke's ghost, pointing out the Literal Nobody that she cares about a lot: How about Solo? Rey: ...Solo, then.

(A few months later she runs into Poe again and he offers for Finn and Rey to both take his name because honestly they need SOMETHING but at that point she’s already decided on Smuggler Dad.)

Backtrack a bit. We’ve got a bigger cast.

They all arrive separately. Poe, for one, does better than Rey, who is aiming for a murder, but not quite as well as Finn, who is currently being adopted and hidden like a secret cat by a bunch of Alpha Clones on Kamino. He vibes with the names-or-numbers thing. He doesn’t necessarily tell them where and when he’s from, but he’s very sweet and a great liar and they adopt him wholesale anyway.

The Finn situation is just... "Buir Ti, we need you to hide this man, we've decided he's our little brother but if Nala Se finds out she'll make him leave."

Of course, this leads into Shaak Ti teaching Finn how to Jedi.

Maybe consider Finn needing to almost be tricked into learning Jedi things because he willfully forgets it could apply to him. Finn does not like to think of himself as special, which is super valid, but frustrating for Shaak Ti when it comes to, you know, getting him to acquire knowledge. Finn's training at some point is "here, levitate objects with the Force to entertain the tubies." It’s a lot easier to convince him to practice when it involves the babies.

(Everyone on Kamino looked at Finn and went “oh I love him I’m keeping him and teaching him things.”)

(He’s just very lovable.)

Poe, meanwhile, buys the trust of Anakin Skywalker via R2D2 declaring BB-8 the absolute most baby of droids. R2D2 met BB-8 three hours ago but.

"Hey Obi-Wan this is Poe I met him like five days ago but R2D2 says he checks out because his droid is a baby." "That's nice, Anakin, did you know the Chancellor has a daughter who tried to assassinate him in broad daylight yesterday? Because guess who had to stop the Chancellor from getting assassinated by his daughter in broad daylight yesterday."

A summary so far:

Finn, on Kamino: Hey, um, I don't know where this is, but it's not where I was a few minutes ago. Do you think you could get me a comm? What's your name? Poe, on [dice roll] Denon: Oh, hey, you're General Skywalker? Nice to meet you, I'm so sorry about my droid, she's a little excitable and thought your R2 unit looked like a friend of hers-- Rey, on Coruscant: DIE, GRANDFATHER

Finn: [Peacefully vibing on Kamino, unaware of the chaos and bonding with the clones] Poe: [Trying to explain how he knows someone who tried to kill the chancellor and defend Rey] Rey: [Arrested for trying to kill the chancellor]

Just... just...

Anakin: Some guy ended up lost on base yesterday with his droid, how’s your day going? Obi-Wan: I had to stop someone who claims to be the chancellors daughter from murdering the chancellor after she seemingly blinked into existence in the Senate building. Poe: 😐

(Poe: Oh, so that's where Chaos^2 went.)

Poe: In her defense, she is his... well we don't know if she's his daughter or granddaughter, but she's definitely related to him, and she definitely grew up in a shitty situation that was his fault, so...

(Poe is trying very hard to explain this and not get arrested on the military base.)

As you’ve probably guessed, what's especially funny about all of this for me is the fact that Palpatine is fully aware that this girl shouldn't exist, but can't find a single piece of evidence about where she came from. He didn't start any experiments that could result in a female child, and he didn't have sex in that period of time, so where the hell--

Rey spends so much time in jail... BUT they do eventually assign her a Jedi Master. Possibly before she actually proves her evil grandfather is in fact evil. Most votes went to either Plo Koon or Obi-Wan. Plo, because he’s dad-shaped, and Obi...

"Obi-Wan, you already raised one feral desert child with implausible amounts of power, you handle this." Rey in return is very "Sweet, you vaguely remind me of Master Luke," and nobody knows who the hell she's talking about. Obi-Wan is NOT on board with this plan, she'd really be better off with Plo or like........ Mace.

Reunion Tour

What I need out of this is the eventual Finn and Rey reunion scene that is just excited screaming while someone in the background explains to Shaak Ti that yes this is apparently Palpatine's terrifyingly force-sensitive daughter who hates him.

(Finn senses Rey’s approach and just. Gathers the everyone to wait. He’s just :D REY MY FRIEND REY GUYS MY FRIEND REY IS COMING.)

Anakin shows up with Poe--just a guy who signed on to the military, no big deal--and then Poe and Rey are EXCITED and everyone's just like "Cool, how do you know this literal terrorist child?" And Poe has to scramble and "Uhhhhhhhhhhhh she saved my droid from a scrapheap once and BB-8 is basically my child so I owe her one."

Rey knows that Anakin ends up evil so she’s maybe not actively hostile but definitely very “I’m watching you.” That said, she vibes with him on a lot of things that he maybe doesn’t actively notice.

Rey picks up a snake, snaps off the head for venom avoidance, and starts biting off chunks. Obi-Wan's reaction: [undisguised horror] Anakin and Ahsoka: Ooh, where'd you find that? (Obi-Wan: And now I’m up to three feral children.)

What Does Palpatine Even Do?

OBVIOUSLY at a certain point, Palpatine is just phoning up every ally he has to figure out who broke protocol to synthesize a daughter for him.

So of course, Palpatine blame Plagueis.

She'd have been born five or so years before Naboo, just a few years younger than Anakin. It's such an EASY theory to build a conspiracy around. It is ENTIRELY WRONG, but it’s plausible! And anyone who might have been involved to say otherwise is probably dead!

A random bio-kid shows up you can’t possibly have contributed genes to? Maybe it’s the evil bio spark that did it.

Palpatine tries to placate her with the ‘my genes were stolen for an experiment and I didn’t know’ thing. It doesn’t work because her actual main complaint is he’s evil in her future but he tries.

It'd be a struggle to even get access to her, because of the aforementioned “maybe don’t try to talk to the daughter(?) that hates you” thing, but you know who Palpatine does have access to? The Chosen One.

Rey kind of decides on her favorites early on (she gravitates to Dad Energy and Sad Old Men so Plo and Obi-Wan are on her list, and that means decent time around Anakin and Ahsoka). It's really easy to talk Anakin into helping to some degree because "he'd like to connect to a daughter he never knew" and "a child of her power on a planet like that, you'd know her struggle, my dear boy" and so on. Anakin tries to connect! He tries to play up Sheev’s kind political work and how it can’t have really been his fault! It doesn’t work. Rey does not believe a word of it. Mostly she doesn’t even seem to hear him.

Rey's just like "...oh right, you're the melted mask that Kylo Ren was always ranting about," which means absolutely NOTHING to Anakin, but he mentions it to Palps, who loses his goddamn mind trying to figure out what she's talking about, because it also means absolutely nothing to him.

Here’s the thing: Rey’s already decided that Obi-Wan is cool, because Luke said so, and Plo Koon is dad-shaped, and she also gravitates towards earnest kindness in general, like she made friends with Finn real quick, so Ahsoka? Already getting along great.

She doesn’t dislike Anakin, really, he isn’t evil yet, he’s just... meh. She’s a little suspicious and she likes him less than the others but... Anakin.

Rey, to Anakin: You are my least favorite. Anakin, to Palpatine: YOUR DAUGHTER HATES ME???

And he goes from “she’s a lil standoffish” to “she doesn’t like me” to “she hates me” as is normal for Anakin.

It’s just an escalation of this one time Palpatine wants Anakin to not have rifts and trust issues with a person, at least not until later, because he needs information.

Meanwhile, that very moment, Rey is just like "huh, nobody here is listening to me about how make a sixth-hand carburetor work, where's Luke's dad?"

Anakin is venting to Palpatine about how hard it is to talk to Rey, and she's over in the Temple just like "Hey, that guy was useful last time, I should ask him," but also she only ever thinks of him as Luke's Dad.

(At one point, Obi-Wan is having a bit of a break down, and then Anakin starts having a breakdown about that, meanwhile the clones are (badly) trying to hide Finn behind their backs, Rey is watching Ahsoka practice and being like "I want two lightsabers," and Poe is trying to keep R2 from stealing BB-8 and Force Ghost Luke is just face palming in the background.)

(Rey deserved a saber staff, maybe one that can detach and turn into a jar’kai set. Possibly a pike. Mostly I just wish she got more chances to whack things with a big stick.)

#Rey #Finn #Poe Dameron #Sheev Palpatine #Luke Skywalker #Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Darth Sidious #Plo Koon #Shaak Ti #Ahsoka Tano #r2d2 #bb 8 #star wars #time travel #Rey and the Grandfather Paradox #Phoenix Posts

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silver-weasel · 3 years ago

Text

Diving (Deku x Reader)

Pairing : Deku x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut • fem!reader (she/her) • best friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers • quirkless AU • p*rn with feelings (like. a lot of them) • public sex (more or less) • switching • hair pulling? • pining • Deku being flustered and an absolute angel what’s new • Reader being a teasing brat • It’s all soft and fluffy, I’m as vanilla as you can get 🤷‍♀️ • Happy birthday to the bestest boyyy I love him so much it hurts

Word count : 10 600 (Holy sh—)

A/N : Thank you @hoe-doroki my beloved and savior for beta-ing <3

Written for @rat-zuki’s collab in honor of our favorite birthday boy, The Deku Agenda Escapes no One. Thank you so much for letting me join! (go check out the other amazing writers and artists!)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The ground grinds repeatedly under your hiking shoes, some pebbles being kicked forward on your way. You’re way too deep in the forest to hear any cars passing by and during the two hours you’ve been here you haven’t run into anyone. The place seems empty, the only souls breathing the forest’s thick air being you, Izuku and the birds chirping all around you.

The afternoon is coming to an end, the sun sinking down on its way to hide behind the mountains. The remains of its soft light are filtering through the dense leaves all around and above you. You’re surrounded by green, lush and immeasurable greenery, every plant merging into another.

You’ve left the marked paths, now wandering deep in the richest, boundless part of a forest you both know like the back of your hand after roaming it all over innumerable times. All over, except for this part, in which you’re setting foot for the first time today. Your many previous hiking sessions were shortened by your questionable sense of organization, always arriving too late to explore further into the unknown.

Leaves brush against your knees with every single step you take as you follow Izuku on his heels. He’s moving at a steady pace, his hands holding tight the straps of his yellow backpack that he’s had for as long as you can remember. He’s always so organized, has everything you two could eventually need and generally never do. Two huge flasks of water, an entire meal he calls ‘little snacks’, with sandwiches, fruits, protein bars, even hard-boiled eggs. A first-aid kit with disinfectant, bandages, scissors and painkillers. Hell, you’re even wondering if he has any pads for you in there, in case of an unexpected period. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

You giggle lightly when you see him stumble for the sixth time since you got here; he can’t seem to keep his curious eyes from drifting up and around, looking in every direction, probably retaining every detail and logging it in some impressive mental database of his. And he’s commenting on every little thing he sees too; he makes you notice things you never would have if it weren’t for his candid interest in everything.

“Oh! Look at that bird!” he exclaims, pointing at a branch over your heads. “Do you see it, right there, with the red mark!”

You turn your gaze to where he’s pointing and see a little bird, very cute, but so tiny you’re wondering how one could spot it without specifically looking for it. That’s probably what you like most about Izuku: his attention to detail. That’s the thing—nothing is too small for him, everything is worthy of interest. His eyes always light up with such curiosity, this child-like wonder and it was always one of your favorite things to witness growing up.

When he came over to your house at age six, he was always running around with some bug on his forearm, calling your name, yelling, “Look at this!”

Most of the time, it was a snail or a ladybug, and that always managed to catch your interest. Sometimes, it was a spider or a beetle, and he had you screaming in horror more than once, running to your mother’s legs with weeping eyes. Those times, he always watched you go with wide, sad eyes and a wobbly lip, because, “I would never hurt her, Mom! I swear I didn’t want to scare her!”

“Oh, yeah, I see it! It’s so cute!”

And it is cute, the way his huge green eyes go even rounder in amazement. You treasure these hikes for providing occasions to witness this. But as much as you wish this moment could last forever, the sun is beginning to set, you probably shouldn’t go deeper in the forest at sundown.

“We should probably head back to the car, Izuku. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

“Come on, it’s still so light—there’s no rush!” His lips crook a bit into an impish smile. “Scared that a bear is coming to get you?”

“There aren’t any bears here—we’ve been coming for five years.”

“Because if it’s the bears you’re afraid of,” he begins, ignoring you on purpose, “you know I’ll protect you, right?” he says, sticking out his chest like he’s some superhero.

“Against a bear? Right.”

“You’re underestimating me? That’s just mean.”

You chuckle at his antics, shooting him a look of yours that says, ‘Come on, please?’.

His eyes soften a bit, but he’s used to that look; it’s been years since it worked on him as well as you’d like it to.

“We can just keep going this way, then we’ll make a loop and head back to the car directly! It’ll be even shorter this way.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” you agree, and the smile it elicits from him makes something tingle deep in your stomach.

You move forward again, sinking deeper within the forest. It’s becoming harder and harder to walk, brambly branches and huge leaves blocking your way more and more with every step.

You’re a bit ahead of him when you catch sight of a sparkle behind the bushes. Just a glimpse of light, but you’re positive you saw it. Is there water here? You never really looked at a map of the place before—you just always went wherever you felt like and used the same tracks on the way back. You hurry up a bit, curious eyes fixed on that glimmer of light.

Soon enough the dense greenery comes to an end, and you’re finally out of the bushes, finding your way into a little clearing. You’re standing, speechless, in front of a pond: it’s about forty feet wide, catching the last rays of sunshine in a dazzling reflection. The water is surrounded by gigantic trees big enough to be home to an entire niche of biodiversity, and a half-sandy, half-stony shore with reeds rising from the water on both sides.

It’s all calm and quiet and massive trees, branches pouring, cascading above still water. The air feels cool, filled with a pure smell of dew and spring even though it’s the end of a hot day of July.

Izuku is close behind you and lets out a very cute, “Whoa,” ditching his backpack on the ground next to you in the middle of the cove. The both of you just stand there for a moment in complete silence, aside from the birds chirping. Izuku breaks it first:

“How come we’ve never seen this before? This place is amazing.” He sounds distant as he speaks, soaking up his surroundings like he always does.

“I guess you never know everything about anything,” you say mindlessly, without detaching your gaze of the wonderful view ahead.

He’s standing close to you, very close. You’re only noticing now that you’re coming down from the high of your discovery. Your arms are brushing, you can feel his body heat from how close you two are. It wouldn’t be the first time; you’re no stranger to being physically close to Izuku. You’ve been playing together since you were able to put one foot in front of the other. And you wish you could say it feels any different right now, but that would be a lie. Being close to him always felt the same. Always felt like the only easy thing in your life. The only constant.

Yet it’s not enough. No matter how close, it’s never enough, it never was. You hate yourself for feeling that way; you’ve never been the greedy, unsatisfied type. You have everything with Izuku. Well, almost everything.

But right now this place—this very quiet, beautiful place with no one in sight is doing things to your fertile imagination. Despite the sun just beginning to set, the summer air still remains thick with heat. You find yourself staring in the abyss of that water, admiring the masterpiece of a reflection on the surface, a painting of leaves and clouds and blue sky. It calls you, sings an irresistible song of fresh water on sweaty skin and strong, freckled arms wrapped around you.

You don’t know if the slight, insignificant detail that you would have to undress in order to dive into that water—since you didn’t bring a swimsuit—is a better reason to do it or to refrain from doing so.

You’ve lost count of how many moments you’ve shared with him just like this one. So many chances for you to take. You never have.

Back to the original issue: can you see yourself walk out of that clearing the way you always do? Can you see yourself going home, adding this missed chance to your growing collection of lost memories, of hands within your reach that you chose not to take?

The answer pops in your mind, crystal clear for the first time since you met him.

You drop your bag on the ground, turning to Izuku with a delighted expression stretching your features. The look on your face reminds him of one he’d seen on you as a kid, bouncing on the balls of your feet in front of the ice cream truck. At this moment he just knows you’ve got some stupid shenanigan in mind, like you always do. Once again, he isn’t wrong.

“Wanna take a dip?” You’re squinting at him from his side, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.

“I-I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” he stutters.

It’s been a long time since he last stuttered in front of you. He got rid of it years ago, but it still resurfaces sometimes in front of intimidating strangers or in a socially uncomfortable situation. Never in front of you, though.

“Me neither,” you answer plainly with that same impish smile, and his eyes go round at your implications.

“Wait, you can’t be—Oh my God—”

His heart does a great flip in his chest when he catches you taking the hem of your shirt up over your head. In less than five seconds, you’ve got him scorching hot, feverish and suddenly he can’t tell right from left.

His reflex is to bury his face in his hands. He respects you too much to take a peek, but you’re making things very difficult for him. He can hear you move towards the water, can hear the thump of your forgotten shoes hitting the ground one after the other, can hear the soft pad of your naked feet on the rocks.

“For the love of God, please, put it back on…”

“What? Look at this view, it would be a shame not to make the most of it!”

He’s not looking at the view right now, he can’t let himself. He knows very well he won’t be able to focus on the trees when you’re standing pretty much naked—although he’s not sure to what extent—in front of him. You could be entirely naked right now and he wouldn’t be able to tell, his burning face still hidden in his shaking hands. His voice comes out muffled when he stammers, “I-It’s starting to get late, we really should get back to the car…”

“What, you’re scared of the bears?”

He can’t see you, but he knows you’re sporting that smug grin of yours, the one he first saw when you showed him your impressive collection of Pokémon cards on your preschool’s playground. You’ll have to take a lingering silence for an answer.

“Izuku, come on. I don’t bite.”

He’s not entirely sure the sight of you won’t gnaw him to the bone, won’t melt his entire body down and leave him a hot mess. He won’t be a man anymore, just a walking flame fueled by the heavenly sight of you. No, he can’t let himself fall into that. Obviously you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

Nevertheless, you’re probably the most stubborn person he knows. And he’s friends with Katsuki Bakugou, for God’s sake. He won’t be able to get out of this as easily as he wants, especially as he hears the delicate noise of water splitting at your feet as you enter the little pond.

He slowly moves his hands off of his face. You must have your back turned to him, so maybe he can drift his eyes off somewhere—

You are in front of him, thigh deep in the water now. In nothing but your panties. Your white, flower-patterned lace panties that are doing a very bad job at covering your backside. He lets out a long, pained whine, standing in the middle of the little shore with his arms dangling down his sides, not sure what to do with them.

“Why didn’t you at least keep your bra on?” His voice comes out way more wobbly than he intended to.

You turn a little so you can look at him, and it takes every little bit of strength he’s got left to look you in the eye. But as you’re turning around, the smooth curve of your breast starts showing, and God, is that your nipple?

He wants a giant hole to swallow him right now. He wants some forest creature to come for him right this instant, anything to keep him away from you, keep him from doing things he might regret. To punish him for having such thoughts about you, because you trust him, you’re so oblivious, so innocent, and he’s so weak against this inner monster that’s eating him away.

With a little frown, you deliver the answer like it’s self-evident as you kneel into the water, the surface just above your chest:

“I didn’t want it to get wet.”

“But you’re okay with your panties getting wet?”

The realization of what he just said is slow but surely comes. And when it does, he wishes even harder to get erased from the surface of this planet he’s already lucky enough to share with you. There is a long silence, and all he can hear for a few seconds are the birds chirping and the violent pounding of his heart against his ribcage, straining to get out.

You turn back around to look at him, dumbstruck.

“I’m more than okay with that—”

“Please forget I just said that,” he cuts you off. He’s not sure he can bear to hear more of this.

“I’m never forgetting you said that. It’s pure gold,” you scoff.

He can only answer with a drawn-out whine. He doesn’t have any choice in this, does he?

When you dive in the water, he takes both his shaking hands to the hem of his shirt and starts undressing.

What the fuck am I doing?

The water is so pure you can see underwater as clear as day: the few rocks at the bottom, the little silvery fish all around you, and the last rays of sunlight permeating through the calm surface above your head. The water feels a bit cold on your naked skin since the sunlight and summer heat must only hit the clearing at certain hours of the day. Still, the cold water isn’t enough to clear your foggy mind.

What was I thinking?

You’ve always been a bashful person, why is it changing all of a sudden? Maybe it’s the devastating effect Izuku has on you.

You try to calm down a bit, taking a deep breath. So, you’re pretty much naked in front of him. Well, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, and it (probably) won’t be the last. Now you just have to go through with your stupid idea. It’s no big deal, it’s only Izuku. Only Izuku.

Only Izuku.

Fuck.

You finally surface, not only because you can’t hide underwater forever, but also because, surprisingly, you’re not a fish, you have to actually breathe.

You push your dripping hair to the back of your head, still careful to keep your breasts under the water. Izuku’s already in to his hips when you turn around to look at him, your vision still blurry from the water trickling all over your face. He’s merciless, standing like that, only the elastic of his boxers peeking out of the water. You’re a bit surprised by the plain, black color. You were expecting something along the lines of blue, yellow and red. Izuku is full of surprises.

But nevermind the color of his underwear—what you find just above is mesmerizing. Your indiscreet, incorrigible gaze can’t help following the thin trail of hair tracing up to his navel, then the stunning lines of his abs, partly hidden behind his freckled forearms shyly crossed over them. The freckles spread up his powerful arms, gently sunkissed, scattering all over his broad shoulders.

Is he actually hiding, though? Doesn’t he know he looks like he was carved by the gods themselves?

“Have you done this before?”

The sound of his voice startles you a bit. Ah, right. You were shamelessly staring. It takes you a couple of seconds to force your distracted mind back into focus. “Done what?”

“Skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s my first time. It looks like it’s yours too.” His big, bright eyes drift around like they don’t know where to look. It’s really cute.

“It is,” he admits, now kneeling into the water as well. “I would’ve thought you were used to this.” You arch a single eyebrow in an amused frown.

“What, do I look like I have a professional degree in skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s just…You look confident, it just seemed like it.”

Confident? You’re nowhere near confident—you’re terrified. You try to keep your cool, but it’s probably the first time you’re putting on an act in front of Izuku.

“Well, you’re not so bad at it yourself.” You don’t miss the little blush coating his cheeks at that. “Also, I’m not exactly naked.”

“You’re not exactly dressed either, that’s a...v-very small piece of clothing.” He’s blushing a bit harder, looking away.

“Oh, seems like you paid some attention to my piece of clothing then, good to know.”

Now he’s quite simply scarlet. A very cute, very hot, freckled tomato. He’s so easily flustered, it only makes you want to tease him some more.

“Were your legendary All Might boxers in the dirty hamper? That’s a shame. I’m a bit disappointed,” you say in a mockingly innocent voice.

He doesn’t retort, simply stands there on his knees, shooting you an unreadable look and a little pout. After a few seconds, you open your mouth to continue, only to be startled by a strong splash hitting you in the face.

When you snap out of your shock, hair and face dripping all over your shoulders, you look up at him with what must be the scariest look of betrayal. Or the most ridiculous, apparently, since he starts laughing, louder and louder, and can’t seem to stop.

“Oh, you’re pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?” You can’t help but chuckle while talking, his laugh is so contagious.

“I am, yeah!” he manages to articulate, only starting to calm down.

As the calm of the forest returns, you watch his eyes go back to their usual round shape bit by bit, his face relaxing again. His smile causes butterflies to fly up and around in a whirlwind deep into your belly. You chuckle a bit at the feeling, almost embarrassed by how he’s making you feel like you’re in some dumb, cliche rom-com movie. On the outside, you must look a bit like a maniac, but he’s a nice guy, so he simply asks, “What is it?”

And before you can overthink yourself out of it, you’re hurling yourself at him. He barely has the chance to stutter a weak, “Wait!” before you’re putting all your weight on him, sinking his head deep in the water. Izuku may well be a nice guy, but you know he isn’t going to let you get away with this, so you’re not surprised when you’re dragged underwater by your legs. He lets go immediately, a bit abruptly, even, like it burnt his hands to touch you.

You both emerge from the water soon, and it takes you a second to get rid of the water blurring your vision, but then it hits you. How tantalizingly close you are to each other now, your bodies an inch away from touching. You’re both on your knees, enveloped in the coolness of crystal clear water and the reflections of the canopy of leaves above your heads. A spark of electricity makes you freeze on the spot; you’re so close to him your breasts slightly brush against his chest.

After a little eternity, you find the courage to look up at his face. He looks mindblowing, really. Despite the two decades you spent together, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen the pure, astonishing details of his freckles from this close. You would remember it, you definitely would. It’s a spectacular view, one of those visual memories that comes back to hit you in flashes. His nose and cheekbones are covered in them, drawing a mesmerizing pattern, more complex than the Milky Way itself. They’re an uncrackable equation, like a weird quirk of nature that you’ll never understand but don’t question anyway. They spread a little more scattered, but still very present, up to his forehead and down to his delicate jaw.

And his eyes—you could just drown in them. There’s this bright, blinding light there that feels like laying in the grass and looking up at the sunlight coating the leaves of this tree, the one you grew up near and always played under.

You swear you didn’t move, neither did he, and still you manage to get even closer to him. Now it’s you against the inexorable attraction that pulls you towards him like a fierce magnet. And it’s a losing battle, you think, as you’re both entering each other’s personal space like you share just one.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he can’t look you in the eye, seemingly too obsessed with your lips. You drop your gaze to his and find them calling for you. It’s been so long, now the thought of kissing Izuku seems unfamiliar despite being ever-present in your imagination for so many years. Like repeating a word so much it ends up becoming a series of meaningless sounds to your confused mind.

He’s the one who finally closes the distance, his lips landing on yours so softly you can barely feel them. He doesn’t move, simply content with the contact. You’re both eight years old again for a minute. The kiss feels like the little peck a kid would finally give to his crush in the middle of their school’s playground before running away to his friends.

Time seems to stop for God knows how long, and after what feels like no time and forever all at once, his lips move hesitantly against yours, bringing you back to reality. Right then, it all crashes on you like a tremendous wave. The distant echo of your mothers’ voices from the kitchen and the stupid cartoons they made you watch so they could talk for ten more minutes. The games alone together because no one wanted to play with you two weirdos. The piggyback rides, the dumb jokes, the video games (you always won). The neverending texting sessions at night because one of you couldn’t sleep. The fights that never lasted long enough to see the next sunrise because you both are way too weak for each other. All those stupid places that wouldn’t have looked half as breathtaking if it weren’t for him.

His lips are soft but roughly bitten. Hot and wet from the water and maybe from something else. He doesn’t taste like anything other than home, and that’s more than enough for you. His hands went up to cup your face at some point, but you’re too drowned in all the feelings coming up to the surface to pay attention to anything other than his soft mouth pressing on yours, more and more, opening up—

And it’s already over. You only notice that you’ve closed your eyes when you open them again when you don’t feel anything against your mouth other than the summer air. When your mind manages to regain any sense of function, the blurry focus of your gaze settles on his eyes. Wide open. Pupils eating up the dazzling viridian that puts the forest to shame. And a terrified expression in them.

He’s looking at you like he hurt you. His lips should still be on yours, kissing and sucking, not frozen like they are right now, obviously trying to express something painful as a few weak sounds pass their barrier before he finally manages to speak:

“Oh—Oh my God, I-I’m s—”

You don’t let him finish his stupid sentence. You don’t think twice before you take his face in your hands and lean in to kiss him again, with shameless intent this time. No more pretending—you’ve been waiting long enough for this and apparently, so has he.

It’s nothing gentle this time when your mouths crash against each other, teeth clashing and lips bruising under the weight of twenty years. You hold to his face like a lifeline, fingers sinking just a bit into his cheekbones, the tip of your nails getting caught in the knots of his dripping hair just above his ears. It’s messy, your noses rubbing before he angles his face better. One of his hands loops around your waist in a tight grip, forcing your chest to crush against his, the other burying in your hair at the base of your skull.

The feeling is electrifying, indescribable. It’s nothing like the pale, miserable depiction of your imagination. It’s discovering life in color when all you’ve always known was black and white.

The water is cool, but his body scorches against yours, burns your skin in the most exquisite way. The kiss is desperate on both parts, but neither of you is confident. His lips suck on yours with tentative motions, and you respond in kind the best you can. They are hungry, starving for flesh but don’t know how to hunt.

Your hands are gripping more and more of his hair, pulling harder, sending waves of heat all the way down his groin, and he’s not sure he can hide the bulge growing there for much longer.

He has to be sure, he has to be absolutely certain you want this as much as he does, because once he starts, he may not be able to stop. But you feel so good, all pressed against him. Your skin feels so soft under his hand at the small of your back he has to dig his nails in the skin of your waist so he doesn’t cross a line. But the curve just above your ass is begging for him to grip at the tender flesh and squeeze, fill his hands with it. He’s been dreaming about this for so long.

No, he can’t just hurl himself at you like a hunting wolf the first chance he gets—what kind of friend does that?

It takes him every bit of focus he has left to break the kiss, to part away from you. You have to discuss this, he can’t just throw away twenty years of friendship! Now you’re looking up at him with puppy eyes saying, ‘Why won’t you play with me?’ He breathes out a shaky sigh, and begins:

“Um, look. Believe me when I say I’ve wanted this for a very, very long time, and I love you so, so much. As a friend, I mean.” He sees you frown at this, catches a glint of something he doesn’t like in your eyes, then panics. “No, no, no, I mean, a-as a friend, but also more than that, o-obviously. But I don’t know what you want, you might be...d-disappointed, or...um—” His face starts heating up like it hasn’t in ages. He takes another breath, tries to clear up the muddled mess happening in his head. “Look, I just want the best for you, but you look...good, very good, and you’re making things very difficult for me, doing...this—”

“Izuku.” The deafening hubbub filling his mind falls suddenly silent, your voice a comforting, steady rock for him to cling to when his mind is storming out of control.

“Yeah?”

You get even closer to him, since he gradually set some distance while mumbling his anxious thoughts out again. You cup his face in your hands, a gentle, featherlight touch, and look up at him with determination in your eyes. You pull his head down a bit to settle on yours, your foreheads and noses connected, never breaking eye contact. Your lips graze over his, both your breaths mixing there, your voice a quiet whisper as you speak again. “Do you want me?”

Out of the jittery mess of his mind, the answer comes out like evidence, plain and simple: “Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

You take action immediately, kissing him once again and this time he doesn’t hesitate to put his—still rather shaky—hands on you. The feeling of you is addicting, pushing his insecurities further in the back of his mind. He starts at your waist, running his thumbs there, feeling the goosebumps rising on your skin. They wander up your spine, counting every single bump of your bones, all the way to your nape. Then dragging them back down to settle on your hips, his fingers digging in the soft flesh. The little sigh you breathe on his lips causes an impressive amount of blood to run straight to his dick.

Your mouth is distracting, dizzying, sucking on his bottom lip, nipping playfully. His tongue slides over your lips, then against your own when you open up immediately for him. You’re pressing against him even more, your breasts rubbing against his naked chest and he swears you’re going to be the death of him. You’re hanging from his shoulders by now, your arms circling his neck, still gripping a handful of green hair, pulling. You have to stop doing this—he might cum right away. He doesn’t say it aloud, only lets a moan escape him into your mouth.

He wanted this, wanted this for so long, and now that it’s real, it’s beyond everything he could have imagined. The heat of your skin, the weight on his shoulders as you cling to him, your breath in his mouth, your little sighs.

He’s only now noticing that his hands have gone to reach their destination with a mind of their own. They’re on your ass underwater, feeling the white, wet lace, the sole cloth on your entire body—that thing is just there to tempt him. He’s unsure if you like what he’s doing until you release a whimper, louder this time, enough to send a vibration against his mouth (and straight to his cock at the same time).

Suddenly, he wants to taste a lot more of you. You’re all open up to him for the first time—he has to. He trails a series of open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, savoring every little sigh escaping your lips, then to your neck, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat.

The water is fresh all over you, and he doesn’t miss the shivers running up and down your skin at the contact of the twilight breeze. He needs to warm you up, needs to make you feel good, needs everything to be perfect for you. With his hands still on your ass, he trails lower down to your collarbone, allowing some occasional nips on the way that have you shaking. He freezes, looking up at you from there.

“Is this okay?”

The answer comes out breathy, a little desperate: “Yes, yes, please!” It sends a wave of heat all over him, the way you like what he’s doing to you, the way he’s making you feel good.

He’s not experienced or anything, only had a few hookups a couple of times, so he’s not very confident in his capacities, aside from running his hands all over you because that’s how his instincts are manifesting. You know him better than anyone—of course you would know how lost he could be in this kind of situation. But he also knows you’re not much more experienced than him, and that thought is comforting.

He’s experienced in one thing, though. He feels like the worst, filthiest person on the planet for this, but it’s astonishing the number of times he jerked off to the thought of what’s happening right now. How many times did he fuck his hand in the shower thinking about the water trickling down your skin, about licking it off your breasts all the way up to your neck.

So he does what he’s been dying to do for years. your breasts are just above the surface, so he sits on his heels and licks down your chest. When his tongue finally reaches your nipple, giving it a tentative lick, you let out a gasp, encouraging him to get bolder. And he does, closing his mouth on it like it’s the sweetest lollipop; it’s all cold and hard and raised from the water, but it warms up really quickly against the furnace of his mouth. His right hand leaves your ass to cup the neglected other, running his thumb against the bud, squeezing the flesh. That’s when you reach out to bury a hand in his hair, and pull again. God, you can pull on his hair all day and night like this; he’ll never get enough.

His left hand, still on your ass, rises up to the small of your back, feeling you arching more and more, pushing against his mouth. A harder nip has you gasping and he lets his hands run all over you, wandering without direction. It’s messy and urgent; he can’t help it—you feel so good, so soft under his hands. He’s like a kid getting to open his Christmas gifts in the morning after an endless, sleepless night waiting for Santa.

You trail your hand down his chest and his abdomen, a gentle reminder that the power he holds right now could slip through his fingers any moment. He’s willing to give it to you, especially since he doesn’t really know what to do next.

Like you just read his mind, you take his hands in yours, stopping their chaotic race. He’s feeling himself flush a bit—was he going too fast for you? Did he scare you? Or did he just let himself become overwhelmed by his feelings and it didn’t feel good for you? His eyes are looking down directly at your naked chest, he realizes he never took a proper look at them, too busy throwing himself to taste them. They look just as good as they taste, as beautiful as the rest of you.

Tentatively, he raises his eyes to find your reassuring gaze and fond smile. You lead his hands down slowly, setting them on your hips, over the criminal lace fabric preserving your modesty. Your foreheads connect again, but you never break eye contact. Lacing your fingers together, you guide his thumbs into the elastic on both sides, and now that he gets what you’re trying to do, his mind just stops.

Your voice is barely a whisper, a mesmerizing caress on his lips when you speak again. “I think I’ve waited long enough, Zuku.”

Your tone is fond, but you sound so desperate, it’s unbearably cute. His mind fogs up, the smoke of your words filling his skull and he wants to drive you as mad as you drive him. Sure, you’ve waited a lot, but so has he. He isn’t going to rush this, not if he has any say in it.

He slides your panties down your thighs underwater inch by inch. It’s even too slow for him; right now he just wants to rip the stupid piece of lace off of you and fuck you and him both stupid in the water, hard and fast. But even more than that, he wants to take his time with you, wants to take you apart piece by piece. And the testy whine it elicits from you makes it all so worth it.

You shift a bit so he can take your underwear completely off and, in a second, it lays abandoned on the sandy ground of the shore. Just knowing you’re now completely naked in front of him, it sends boiling desire flowing through every single vein in his body. He can’t see that part of you yet, the water darkening along with the sky clouding his view beneath the surface, but nightfall can’t do anything about Izuku’s wild imagination. He’s dizzy, feeling himself slowly falling into a half-conscious daze, but you anchor him right where you are, bringing him back to the reality of your arms hooked around his neck.

He rests his hands on your hips, dragging his fingertips down the soft flesh of them. The idea of touching you down there is making his head spin, he can’t wait any longer.

“Can I—”

“Yes, I want your fingers inside me,” you say before driving your lips back against his.

Without further ado, one of them goes straight to your core, making you jump a bit, breaking the kiss just for a second. He runs his index between your folds, feeling hot slick already coming out of you despite the fresh water around. His touch is light, slow, hesitant as it glides up and down, testing the waters. He’s getting a bit further, putting a bit more pressure with every stroke and earning a few pleased sighs from your heavenly mouth.

He expected a sudden reaction as soon as he found your clit, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for the drawn-out moan coming out of your gorgeous lips, wet from his mouth and from your dip earlier. He wants to hear that again, every day for the rest of his life. He drags his thumb over it, again and again, slow at first, but then quicker and quicker, and your voice grows louder with every speed-up of his finger.

Your hands go frantic over him, running up his chest and down his abs in repeated motions that feel a lot like it’s lust driving your limbs much more than your mind. You stopped kissing him at some point, your mouth too busy expressing every ounce of pleasure you felt to focus on such basic motions. Your face is buried in his neck, your hot breath crushing against his skin.

He presses his index inside, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing, trying not to hurt you, that he doesn’t notice the shift of your own hand leaning down until he feels it cupping the painful bulge in his boxers. His eyes go wide with a gasp, and when he looks at you, you already have a playful, but intense, gaze piercing right through him.

“Did you think I was gonna let you play all on your own, Zuku?” Your fingers graze over the soaked fabric, down his entire length and to his balls, throwing gasoline on the fire that’s been consuming him for ages. “Don’t be selfish,” you whisper directly in his ear as your hands slip his underwear down his thighs.

As soon as the piece of cloth gets to join your forgotten panties on the shore, you wrap your pretty hand around him. And when you start stroking, his eyes roll so hard he swears he can see the inside of his skull. It feels better than he ever could have imagined; it’s blistering, astonishing. The only idea his brain can manage to work out right now is that he wants you to feel just as good.

He only notices now that his fingers stopped moving, and they go right back to a steady pace, but it’s a matter of seconds before he drives another finger into you. Soon, you’re both fucking the life out of each other with your hands. You’re sucking and nipping at his ear, and every single moan he draws out of you ends up turning against him, breaking into the defenses he built year after year by your side. He’s simply fucking into your hand now. He can’t help it, you feel so good. He doesn’t even want to think about what it’s going to feel like to fuck into your tight little cunt, he might cum hard just from the thought of it.

The spongy spot he finds inside you feels like he just struck gold. It’s glorious, the sounds you make right now, higher, louder. You’re tightening around his fingers, but it’s okay—you can crush them for all he cares. He wants you to moan higher for him, wants you to keep riding his fingers like your life depends on it.

“Izuku, ah—I’m close, I’m so close, please…”

“I got you, baby. I got you, shit—”

He quickens the pace again, feels like his fingers are gonna fall off his hand the moment he gets them out of you, but fuck, what his princess wants, his princess is gonna get. Your orgasms shatter the both of you to pieces, and in the bliss of his high, he can hear some birds flying away, scared by the harmonious, but probably very loud, song of your combined moans.

While his cum strikes out by ropes into the water, his clouded mind can only think about one thing.

He needs more of you.

You can barely stand on your knees, worn out from cumming the hardest you have in your entire life. You actually have to lean on Izuku so you don’t fall into the water head first like some boneless ragdoll. You just let your forehead rest on his shoulder and count the freckles there, splattered in a fascinating work of abstraction.

But apparently, he has other plans. You’re swiftly lifted up and out of the water, huge scarred hands firmly holding the back of your thighs that immediately come to circle his waist.

“Oh, nice. I don’t mind getting carried around like a baby. Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he says with a little grin, walking out of the water. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” His voice holds a sarcastic tone, one you’re not used to hearing out of Izuku’s angel mouth.

“I think I can manage, yeah.”

He drops you to stand on your legs, and immediately goes for his backpack. The sun has just set, its last rays of light filling the pink sky over your heads. You can still easily make out everything around you, and Izuku’s body is no exception.

You’re watching him with a raised eyebrow, letting your shameless gaze follow every curve you couldn’t see underwater. The day he started exercising in high school was the day you knew it was over for you. It was the day you couldn’t deny what you felt anymore, you couldn’t deny your best friend was everything you needed, and everything you wished for. The physical factor was only a—very pleasant— addition to the list of things that made you fall hard for Izuku Midoriya.

Your eyes linger over his impressive figure, staring at the dimples at the small of his back. You always knew they were here, but you never allowed yourself to look at them, to imagine how they would grow repeatedly hollow with every thrust of his hips into you.

He finally digs out what he was looking for: a plaid picnic blanket, because of course he would have one in there. He’s wearing a little victorious smile when he stands and turns around to spread it on a grassy spot that looks a lot more comfortable than the hard ground. He turns back to you but averts his gaze to the side, hardly looking directly at you for more than a second at a time. The heat of his gaze tracing your curves through quick glances pools deep in your core.

“You know you can look, right?” You sure aren’t refraining from doing so after all.

His face reaches its usual redness—hasn’t he learned anything from making you cum like crazy with just his fingers? It’s cute nonetheless; Izuku will never change.

He doesn’t answer your rhetorical question, only gives you a shy command in that tentative, very cute voice of his.

“Could you lay down on this for me?”

You saw this coming, but still, you’re a bit surprised he’s asking you that out loud. You gladly oblige with your legs pressed together, slightly bent. It’s another golden opportunity to tease him a bit:. “This isn’t exactly the right use for this blanket. Aren’t we supposed to eat on this?”

He smiles at the ground while kneeling at your feet.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

Your sly smile fades away. His tone is a contradictory mix of shyness and determination, so it’s a bit confusing but also unbearably hot—you swear an astounding wave of heat is crashing through your deepest parts, untouched, just from some words and a funny tone. You rub your thighs together before he grabs and parts them to slip himself between them.

He crawls over you and leans down to kiss you, a bit more confident than earlier. His hips are pressing between your legs, where you can feel his hardness best.

He’s rutting more and more against you as the kiss intensifies. You could think it’d be a lot less exciting now that you know he’s going to eat you out, there’d be no suspense. Wrong. The little shit apparently likes to tease you to death, because he left your lips to kiss your face, nip at your neck, suck at your ears. Dragging his devilish hands everywhere, pressing harder each time you get louder. An especially heavy whine makes him buck hard, his mouth back against yours.

“The more impatient you get, the slower it’s gonna be,” he murmurs against your lips, and starts to make his way down to where you want him, kissing every inch of you, clouding your mind with desire. It’s way too much and still not enough; it’s maddening. When he finally reaches down, you’re on the verge of a second orgasm like you hadn’t just come down a few minutes ago.

He’s holding your thighs apart in a firm grip. Just the touch of his fingers burns your skin deliciously, and the look he’s giving you from between your legs...his eyes are clouded, half-lidded, looking at the part of you he’s never gotten to see before. It feels like he’s been looking forever and just a second at the same time.

He finally dips into you, leaving butterfly kisses all over your inner thighs, punctuated by little nips, nuzzling the soft skin. He’s not looking you in the eye anymore, his gaze lingering all over your body—all over except for your face. You can make out a slight blush on his cheeks despite the dimness all around. You know him better than anyone, so you immediately recognize what’s going on in his mind just from the slightest hint in his eyes. He looks like he’s fighting a battle against himself, his shyness against his hunger. And you know who you’re both rooting for.

He finally gives in, and it takes your breath away. A single, slight lick on your clit and you’re gone. And the next ones, more and more intense, more and more hungry, push you further to tumble over your edge. He grunts into your heat, multiple times. Moans like he’s the one squirming under your mouth.

His hands hold a firm grip on your hips, squeezing the flesh and keeping you in place—he doesn’t even give you an inch to move. You can only take and take and take. But you still have the luxury of your free hands, and they rush to bury in the knots of his messy wet curls, your nails dragging, scratching his scalp.

His lips close on your clit and suck just a bit, and before you can refrain, you pull on his hair, hard. He gasps, and the moment you think you hurt him, he breathes his loudest moan, right into you. You’re filled with the vibrations—they spread all over your body, have you throwing your head back, trembling from head to toe.

The louder you are, the hungrier he gets, filling you with his insatiable tongue. You have to look at him right now. And you expected quite a show, but you certainly weren't prepared to see this—him rutting against the ground like an animal. You realize he’s getting off just from your taste, just from eating you out. His hips roll repeatedly, making you salivate just to the thought of those same hips bucking into yours, fucking you into oblivion. And the more he ruts, the louder he gets.

Now if he wants to moan, you’re going to give him a good reason to.

You hint for him to face you with a light tug on his hair. As soon as he’s back up, he dives in to kiss you. You don’t let him. In a second he’s on his back with you seated on his hips.

“What did I say about letting you play on your own, hm?”

The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look is so cute on him. And the rest is a marvel to look at. You’re straddling him and he has no other choice than to let you devour him with your eyes—not that he couldn’t bounce you off of him with just a thrust of his hips, but he already would have if he wanted to. You let your gaze wander mindlessly over him—it’s surreal. There’s no way he’s actually under you, waiting for you to please him back with his mouth and jaw still shining with your juices. It has to be a dream—it’s always been after all.

You shift so you’re straddling his parted thighs. You can finally take a look at him. The whole thing, that is. His cock is resting against his lower stomach, hard and swollen and thick. It’s a pretty, bright pink, shining with pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters just at the sight of it.

He’s looking down at you, his face as flushed as his dick, that usual blush still exquisitely coating his freckles. You take him in your hand, dive in to give a lick to the tip and his head falls back down with a whimper. You let your tongue drag over the whole length on the underside, and your lips close around the tip in a wet smooch. His hips jerk up a bit, startling you.

You finally take him whole in your mouth, and you can feel his whole body tensing under you. You start bobbing up and down, going a bit further each time, earning a series of shameless moans because this boy is loud. You expected him to express himself during sex since he’s such a mumbler—and frankly, it was always one of your biggest fantasies, hearing him come undone because of you, lose any sense of shame and self-restriction when he’s such a anxious person otherwise.

But you could’ve thought about it every night and day and still never be ready for this. It’s sinful. His hand goes to grab your hair just like you did to him, and now you get why he liked it so much. The feel of his nails scratching your scalp is electrifying, soothing and destructive at the same time.

Your tongue hits a precise spot just under the tip and he jerks up again, nearly screams, “Fuck—yes, right there, please—d-do that again!”

And you do, you can only oblige—he asked so nicely. Your lips go up and down, over and over, your tongue grazing this spot with a bit more pressure every single time. You squint over him, and what you find there is a mess. Trying so hard not to buck into your mouth but failing miserably. Sounding like he’s at Heaven’s gate.

“Easy, Zuku. You’re gonna scare the birds away,” you chuckle against him, your lips brushing the tip, dripping with your saliva and pre-cum.

“Do I need to remind you…how loud you were for me earlier?” He’s looking back down at you as he speaks, a tremble in his voice telltale of his approaching climax. “You sounded...so good, baby, I swear...wanna hear you again, wanna make you scream, just for me, fuck—”

You can feel yourself soaking the blanket, can feel the slick trickle down your folds and stain the plaid cotton. Is he aware of what he’s doing? Or is he just saying whatever is going through his chaotic mind? In any case it has you starving. So you let go of his cock and, before he can protest, crawl back to his face and kiss him desperately. Tasting both of your fluids in a mindblowing mix.

You pull back just enough to be able to speak, because you need him to understand you loud and clear when you say: “Please, Izuku, I need you inside me, I’ve waited so long. Please.”

“Okay, okay, fuck—” He cuts himself off, his eyes slightly drooping like a sad puppy. “I-I don’t have any condoms.”

“You mean you probably have pads in there for me but no condoms?” you say with your eyebrows raised, your mocking tone hinting at a teasing remark, far from criticism.

He frowns in confusion. “How do you know I have pads in there?”

“So the legend turns out to be true. After all these years—”

“Shut up, you’re impossible,” he chuckles heatlessly, resting his hands on your back.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” you assure him with a soft tone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m on the pill, yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, then clarifies, a hint of hesitation clear in his voice.

“No I mean...you’re sure you wanna do this?” He marks a brief pause, takes a short breath. “With me?”

You don’t even think before answering, it slips your mouth like it’s not even your own words: “I don’t want it with anyone else.”

There’s a silence.

“Fuck, that sounds cheesy,” you scoff, looking away.

“It does, but we’re both cheesy idiots, apparently.”

You look back at him. His smile is so fond, so loving; it melts your heart in the best way.

“I wanna be your cheesy idiot,” you say against his mouth, looking right into his eyes, willing to fall in them.

“You always have been,” he nearly whispers. It fills your stomach with familiar warmth, intense and overwhelming, comforting.

There’s a bittersweet taste in your mouth, one of regret and lost time and God, we’re idiots.

Now it’s about time you make up for it all.

You look down at him, rolling your hips against him, dripping all over his cock, coating him in your juices.

“I think I asked you something, didn’t I?”

A whimper escapes him at the feeling. His hips buck up slightly, hands gripping at your back. When you do it again, you don’t get the chance to see his reaction; you’re on your back again, him towering over you, his thigh between your legs.

He’s looking at you with something in his eyes you don’t recognize, but the tone he speaks with has your entire body quaking.

“And you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

He holds himself over his left forearm, his hand thumbing at your cheek while the other strokes the whole length of your thigh. Your noses are brushing, your breaths crashing together. Your hands hold tight to his nape, playing with the short hair mindlessly as you’re waiting to be filled, finally.

You feel the stretch instantly. You try to focus on those mesmerizing emerald gems he calls eyes. They look right through your soul, eating you up and you barely feel the pain. He’s taking it slow, inch by inch, giving you all the time you need, caressing your cheek with a tender stroke of his thumb.

“Relax for me, baby.”

Izuku’s voice is a soothing sound over the incessant chirping of the grasshoppers. It was always one of your favorite things to hear, its every tone another blessing to your ears. It’s loving when he asks if you’re okay, comforting when he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry on his shoulder, heartening when he’s going on about anything he’s passionate about.

He’s kissing every part of skin he has access to, over your face, your jaw, your neck. You feel yourself relaxing around him, and roll your hips up to give him the hint.

When he starts moving it’s still slow and careful. He doesn’t break eye contact, so you can see his every reaction, and he can see all yours. His hand is still playing with your hair, even as his pace speeds up with every second. The weight of him over you feels amazing, it holds him close against you, countless parts of you both rubbing together: your chests, your stomachs, your thighs. He doesn’t even have a lot of space to move. But getting to touch and get touched by him like this, it's incredible. You always had him so close to you, always right there and still so out of reach.

You still need more; you’re insatiable. You need to see him come undone under you, because of you. You push him to roll on his back, and you end up straddling him, setting the pace yourself. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, taking balance on the hard planes of his abs. He immediately reaches up to grab your hips, guiding you along.

His face tenses up, frowning, his nose wrinkling, his lips parted just to let out a series of breathy sighs. He looks wrecked and dizzy and stunning. He’s keeping his eyes open, fixed up on you, specifically on your breasts, bouncing with your every motion. And you can feel his gaze on your skin just as much as you feel his hands gripping harder at the flesh below your hips.

“Eyes up here, Zuku,” you coo with two fingers pointed at your eyes.

He doesn’t answer, only sits up easily and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look so amazing, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says with a trembling voice, filled with bliss.

Your heart misses a beat at his words, they fill you with warmth and comfort because he definitely doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing to you. He delves his face into your neck, kissing and nuzzling, his breath coming shorter and shorter, crashing against your skin and his hands running all over you. The sound of his hoarse voice resonates through the forest and through your soul, echoing an enchanting song.

With little effort, he puts you back under him so he can pound into you with full force, and your legs immediately come up to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your hands grab his hair, tugging to see if you get the same reaction as earlier, and it doesn’t miss: he lets out a groan right into your ear, speeding up his pace again.

The sky is dark now, and all you can hear are his moans and yours and the slap of your hips coming together repeatedly. Your head is thrown back when he grabs you by the hair, forcing you to turn your head and face him.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.”

“Izuku, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby. Let go for me, come on.”

Just the feel of his hand trailing down your stomach awakens something in you, this familiar pressure growing tight in your belly. And when his fingers reach your clit, a couple of strokes are enough to have you screaming his name, tightening around him, and pulling him towards his climax with you. His thrusts come franticly as you milk him dry, clawing desperately at his back, panting in his mouth as he leaned down to kiss you through both your climaxes.

As soon as he comes down, he rolls over on his side, still laying close to you, an arm thrown over you. You both take a minute to catch your breaths and, weirdly enough, you don’t hear anything aside from your panting. You really must have scared the birds away. Izuku breaks the silence first.

“Do you wanna...sleep at my place?”

He’s looking over at you and, despite the sky getting dark, you can easily imagine the blush coating his cheeks right now, like he didn’t make you scream his name, drunk on his cock two minutes ago.

You can’t repress your fond smile at his proposition.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

You take a minute to gather your clothes from all over the place and get dressed, then grab your bag to tug it over your shoulder.

“You got everything?”

Izuku is waiting for you just outside the trees. You take a quick look around, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything, and turn around without a second look at the place.

Because although it was your first time setting foot here, it definitely won’t be the last; you will come back here with Izuku every chance you get, making it your shared secret, your own little wonderland.

You gladly take the hand he’s offering, making him blush a little harder, and you head straight back into the forest together.

You walk side by side as a comfortable silence settles, only disturbed by the grasshoppers’ incessant, boisterous chirping. The sky is utterly dark now, you can make out a few stars shining above the dense trees. You walk at a steady pace, but Izuku is going a bit faster with every step. Soon enough, he’s walking a bit ahead of you, still holding your hand. Another golden occasion to tease his eagerness.

“Are we in a hurry, Zuku?”

In the dark of the night, you struggle to make out the look on his face as he turns around to look at you. A second later, he’s running, and with your hand firmly held in his, you can’t do much but try to follow along. You giggle as you run, and it quickly grows into a belly-deep laughter. He’s fast, doesn’t get tired, but you follow him anyway, probably as eager as he is. You have to zig-zag so you don’t run straight into the massive trees standing in your way.

You get to the car in no time, but you’re both out of breath when you finally get in your respective seats, ready to go home.

Izuku doesn’t even wait to catch his breath before he starts the car, the engine roaring loudly in the silence of the night, probably scaring the birds away for the upteenth time that night. You catch his happy grin in the headlights glow before he heads back into the road.

You have a feeling the night is not over; you’ve only got twenty years to make up for after all.

#bnha smut #deku smut #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya smut #mha smut #there it is omg it's long af #weasel writes

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niqhtlord01 · 3 years ago

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Humans are Weird: D&D Part 3

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) Human Barbarian: I roll to decapitate the shop keeper. Alien DM: Is there a reason you keep on decapitating LITERALLY everyone you meet? Barbarian: My character can’t die unless he falls in battle. Alien DM: But they aren’t battles if you kill them in one blow. Barbarian: True, but my guy has been around for hundreds of years and now just kills people for fun. Alien DM: *Looks at other party members* Is this normal? Wizard: Honestly it’s pretty tame for a barbarian. Rogue: At least he’s not the bard that became a necromancer. Alien: What happened with them? Wizard: They became a necromancer just so they could woo the woman that killed herself after talking to him. Alien: *Looks at Necromancer* Really? Necromancer: I was very proud of my seduction streak and I wasn’t about to let death break it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien: Why do you always pick humanoid characters? Alien: Why not team up with something that is as large as a bear? Thief: We used to have a Loxodon fighter in the party, didn’t end well. Alien: What happened? Monk: We got trapped in a room flooding with water and only one way out. Warlock: The Loxodon insisted on going first through the doorway because they were afraid of water, but then became wedged in the tiny frame and couldn’t get free. Alien: How did you escape? Monk: We didn’t; we all drowned to death. Alien: If you all died then how are you here talking with me? Thief: Let’s just say we owe a man of questionable magic practices a lot of money. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Warrior: Wizard, cast fireball on my sword! Alien Wizard: Why? Warrior: So it will catch on fire and do fire damage as well! DM: I’ll allow it. Alien Wizard: Okay. *rolls a nat 20* DM: Your fireball impacts the sword dead on and melts it instantly. Warrior: What? DM: What do you think happens to cheap metal after it’s been super-heated? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DM: As you sift through the remains of the now fallen lich lord you come across his most powerful weapon. Alien players: *getting excited* DM: A cursed blade slaked in the blood of a thousand thousand victims, each one adding their strength to whomever wields this mighty blade; the most powerful weapon you have ever come across. Alien players: *Really excited now* Alien warrior: Does it have a name? DM: *Nods* It is called……the Bunny Fluffer. Alien warrior: What? You can’t be serious. DM: I did say it was a curse blade. Alien: How can a blade called the “Bunny Fluffer” be cursed?!? DM: Every time you use it in battle you must loudly announce that you are attacking with the bunny fluffer. Alien warrior: You monster! That’s so evi- Alien warrior: *Now realizing why it is cursed* ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Human: If I feed a Locathah sushi, am I committing a hate crime or unknowingly making them a cannibal? Alien DM: WTF man?!?!? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Human DM: You find yourself in a very suspicious village. Alien: You can’t just label an entire town as suspicious. Human: Roll a perception check then. Alien: *Rolls 20* Human DM: You see the town square barren save for a giant stone slab at the very center, the surface of it covered in strange red glyphs that seem to bleed the longer you stare at it. Human DM: The towns people all full length cloaks that hide their appearance with hoods so deep you cannot make out a single detail of their faces. They speak no words nor make a sound as they shift and to and fro between the buildings. Human DM: You stare up at the sky and see it thick with grey clouds that appear to bulge and retract randomly as if they are holding something within. Alien: Alright, alright, we get it. Alien: No need to be so on the nose about it. Human: You walked passed a mass murder drenched in blood because one of you saw the bar tenders dog run outside and wanted to go pet it. Human DM: I take no chances now. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien DM: You find yourself locked in the mansion, the body of the host laying across the ballroom floor as all the guests and staff look on. Alien DM: Any one of them could be the killer. Human Warlock: I say we lock all the doors and burn the house down. Human Paladin: What? Human Rogue: That’s a bit extreme. Warlock: Listen, I’ll cast a spell that will make anyone with a guilt free conscious fire resistant. Warlock: That way when the house is on fire only the killer will catch fire and everyone else would be safe. Rogue: I guess that might work…. Paladin: Still… Warlock: Look, I’ll even stay inside to prove how trust worthy it is while you all wait outside and bar the doors. Paladin: Very well. *some time later after the mansion burned down* *Party sees only the warlock remaining among the ashes* Paladin: Impossible! Paladin: They couldn’t all have been the killer! Warlock: True, but their minds were not guilt free so I’m afraid they caught fire. Rogue: So you knowingly just had us kill an entire mansion’s worth of people. Paladin: How are you still alive?! Warlock: Simple; I did not feel the slightest bit guilty about it. Warlock: *Proceeds to remove an artifact that collects the souls of the recently deceased* ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien DM: Pick your characters. Human: I am a Halfling necromancer. Human 2: I am an elf necromancer. Human 3: I am a human necromancer. Alien: Seriously?! Alien: Does no one want to be something else? Human 4: I am an orc shaman. Alien: Well thank y- Human 4: That dabbles in necromancy. Alien: Gods damnit! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Human DM: And with that you have finally slain the great dragon Human DM: The town of Scabersburgs will forever be in your debt. Alien Wizard: That was a stupid encounter, let’s end it here. *Human DM makes note as the group leaves for the night* *Next week’s encounter* Human DM: You return to find the town of Scaversburg in the grips of a deadly plague. Human DM: The town’s folk are being driven mad as over the last few days many of them have begun growing scales across their body, talons where their fingers once were, and some have even begun sprouting lizard like wings and tails. Human DM: As they see you all return to the village their collective shouts of anger roar across the town as the entire city springs forth to hunt you down. Alien Wizard: Wait what!? Alien Wizard: I call bullshit; how could this suddenly happen?! Human DM: Well, if you had waited long enough to hear the dragons dying words he placed a powerful curse on his blood that any who should drink of it shall become as he once was. Alien Wizard: That’s still bullshit! Alien Wizard: No way the villagers would just walk up to a dead dragon and drink its blood. Human DM: Unless because you failed to dispose of the body the blood seeped into the ground and mixed with the towns water supply, thus contaminating everyone. *Group angrily looks at Wizard that encouraged them to leave early* Human DM: Roll for initiative. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alien DM: As you make camp deep within the frost mountains of Galgieth you find that your provisions bag has torn open and you have no food to eat. Alien DM: Unless you act quickly you will starve to death. Wizard: I got this. Wizard: *Turns to barbarian* Wizard: Cut off my left arm. Barbarian: Done! *rolls a nat 20* Alien DM: *Confused* You chop off the left arm of your wizard, the limb falling lifelessly to the ground as spouts of blood pour out. Wizard: I cast regeneration to regrow my severed limb. *Rolls a nat 20* Alien DM: *Still confused* Your left arm grows back as if it was never gone. Wizard: I put my severed limb over the open fire to cook. Alien DM: You want to turn your party into cannibals? Rogue: Wouldn’t be the first time.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #funny #short #banter #dnd #d&d

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potter-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Chosen Sister (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: I had two Ginny idolizing reader requests so this is the first one! I can't find the exact request but the other will be posted during this coming week.

Warning: None (vv short sad part)

Word Count: 3.8k

“Give me back my girlfriend, Ginny. I heard that you’re holding her hostage.”

A loud chorus of knocks sounded out from Ginny Weasley’s dorm room. Dinner had finished an hour before and since the meal ceased, Fred had been searching the entire ground for you, his girlfriend. After about thirty minutes tracing your typical patterns and steps around Hogwarts, Fred ran into Angelina and Alicia who informed him of your whereabouts.

They happily explained to them that they saw Ginny dragging you away after dinner. The girls cooed to Fred about how adorable it was that his girlfriend hung out with his little sister, something Fred didn’t exactly view the same.

Fred Weasley checked your dorm room, the common room, the library, Hermione’s dorm, and finally Ginny’s room. As he trudged up the stone steps grounchily, his ears perked to a point at the ring of a voice that was tattooed in his heart. Your innocent, childlike giggle played like a melody in the empty stairwell.

Fred could feel the corner of his lip tugging up to a smile at the sound. That sugared chortle that he had heard millions of times before but somehow still felt his breath catch at the sound. Standing outside his little sister’s door, Fred’s annoyance was dissolving by your haromous voice echoing from the opposite side.

When Ginny failed to open her dorm up the first round of knock, Fred banged on the door again. Huffing in annoying, Ginny shot you a look, already knowing Fred was gonna scold her. She crawled off her bed and waltzed over to her door, taking her sweet time as she did. You couldn’t help the giggles that rumbled through your chest.

Swing the door open swiftly, Ginny glared at Fred with flames blazing in her eyes. If they weren’t related, he might’ve felt a hint of her wrath. But she was his little sister and not even at her angriest did Fred find her intimidating, not in the slightest.

Ginny Weasley was only thirteen yet her sass and feistiness was beyond her years. Growing up with only brothers probably played a hand. The young girl sent her brother a disgusted look then growled at him,

“I am not holding her hostage! For your information, Y/n happens to be my friend. Might sound surprising to you but she actually enjoys hanging out with me, Fred.”

Fred looked past his sister at the mention of your name. A smile lifted to his lips when he found you. You returned the gesture

“You’re right, that does sound surprising.” The snarky remark caused Ginny to furrow her face in a scowl. Lunging forward the youngest Weasley snapped for her older brother, although missed by a long shot.

“You’re infuriating, Fred!” She howled. Her face was turning red with every second that ticked by. If the situation had been different, you might’ve laughed. Getting between the Weasley siblings when they were arguing- that just wasn’t safe for anyone. Ginny’s aggravation was fuming from her pores as she sent you pleading looks to stay.

It was now that you took a look at the old wooden clock hanging on the way above her roommate's bed. The little hand was pointing to the six as the big hand was approaching eleven. The time seemed to fly by at light speed. You had promised to help Ginny hang up some lights in her room. She had wanted to decorate it just likes yours, as she practically admired anything you did. It made you feel special knowing Ginny looked up to you. You had never experienced it before so it was exciting- but also slightly pressurized- to know she was admiring you as a big sister.

Fred let out an exaggerated groan leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Can I please have my girlfriend back? You got your girl time in. Y/n promised to hangout with me tonight, so I’m rescuing her!” A cheeky wink was thrown your way as Fred walked further in the room, slowly sneaking up to you. The annoyed girl rolled her eyes then ignored her brother. She looked back at you and pursed her lips into a thin line. Ginny was too oblivious to notice his stagger but your attention remained set on him the entire time. You didn’t fight the smirk lifting to your lips as he inched closer, and closer until his feet were only steps from his sister’s back. It was then Ginny noticed the amused tint to your face but before she could bring it to light, Fred bent down in one fluid motion and gripped his hands on either side of your hips. As light as a feather he swept you up and quickly darted for the door, as to escape Ginny before she had the chance to retaliate.

“Wait- hey!” Fred slammed the large door then proceeded down the steps.

“Freddie, love, that wasn’t nice.” The giggles poured from your soul as Fred continued to carry you down the stairs, then took a sharp right, and started walking up the boy’s dormitory staircase. You rested your head against the blade of his shoulder, bobbing with every step he took. He was so handsome, even from the most unpleasant angels. His sharp features stuck out in the darkness, striking your heart. His arms cradled you while he laughed, “Oh shush, you didn’t try to stop me. Wasn’t exactly nice of you to just run off in the middle of dinner. You still have time to make it up to me, though.” The teasing arrogance didn’t go unnoticed. You laughed into the material of his sweater, clutching to his chest. The movement of his legs stopped and he softly leaned over to place you on the ground. Taking his wand out from his back pocket he unlocked his door and opened it up for you to walk in.

You stepped into the quiet room then turned to you boyfriend,

“George and Lee in?” You asked. The grin that rose to his lips was an answer enough. Fred closed the door behind him with a slam then jumped onto his bed with a flop. You watched him lay in the middle of the mattress, throwing his hands in a fold behind his head. He shrugged his shoulders and replied,

“Nope. Was there something in particular you had in mind of doing?” His mask of innocence wasn’t fooling either of you, but it was part of the fun. Keeping your eyes glued to his, you slipped the material of your robes off, leaving you in a white long sleeve button up and a small plaid skirt. You basked in the widening eyes of your boyfriend as he shifted on the comforter. His eyes raked over your body from your head down to your toes. You noticed his gaze particularly set on your exposed legs. Smirking to him you sauntered over to his bed and climbed in with him. His large hands found your bottom instantly. “I think you know, Freddie.”

Almost a week later, it happened again. Fred was scrambling around the Gryffindor common room asking every waking student if they had seen you. Most students were getting ready for dinner, some already there. George was waiting near the portrait watching curiously as his twin ran around the room from person to person. Even to George it was a bit strange no one had seen you, although as the hours dragged on he took into account the absence of his little sister also. George sighed to himself then kicked his leg into the wall, leaning back against the brick waiting patiently for Fred.

On the opposite side of the large room, the other half of the Weasley twins was talking to Lee Jordan, seeing if he had any valuable information. Lee, just like everyone else he asked, had no clue where you were. Right as his conversation with Lee was dwindling, the sigh of a curly haired girl caught Fred’s eyes and he abruptly excused himself from Lee and ran over.

As Fred reached Hermione, he gave her shoulder a line of taps,

“Hermione! Hey! Do you know where Y/n is? George said he saw you two in the courtyard this morning but I haven’t seen her all day.” Fred questioned the bright witch in a pleasing tone. She swiveled around and tilted her head to the side causing her frizzy hair to bounce like springs. Eyebrows knitted together, her lips scrunched to the side. Deep in thought she hummed to herself then answered,

“No I don’t at the moment, Fred, I’m sorry. I spent the morning with her and Ginny but I haven’t seen either of them since we left the library around lunch. That was hours ago, though. Maybe try checking Ginny’s room?” Hermione offered.

You had been studying most of the morning in the courtyard then in the library. Ginny and Hermione joined you, despite all three of you being in different years. Not that it came as much of a surprise, but Hermione helped you with your work without missing a beat. Where you were stuck for minutes, she had finished four questions ago. She was a brilliant friend to have, schoolwise and personally. You might be older than the young witch but Hermione’s advice was like no others so you loved having her around.

Fred shook his head and mumbled a ‘no’.

“That was the first place I looked. Don’t know where she is either. Did I do something? Y/n’s not upset with me is she?” The fear and worry in his voice soaked the air and Hermione gave him a gaze of bewilderment.

“What? She didn’t say anything to me about being mad at you and I’m sure she would’ve if she were. She seemed perfectly fine so I don’t think it’s that. Ginny was the one who seemed in a mood if anything.” She stated firmly. As close as the two of you were, you would have told Hermione if Fred angered you. You shared everything with her.

The towering boy nodded, eyes scanning the space behind Hermione. He was running out of places to check and people to ask. Hermione was his best bet next to Ginny and no one knew where Ginny was either which, for anyone capable of putting 2 and 2 together meant you and Ginny were more likely than not together somewhere.

“Thanks, Hermione. Let me know if you see either of them, please.” Hermione nodded and smiled kindly to Fred, then walked off to join Harry and Ron. Fred took off towards the portrait, yelling to George that he would be back shortly.

Leaving the common room Fred shut the painting behind him and made his way to the moving staircase. While standing on the middle step, he tried to think if he was a girl, where would he go? The bathroom? No, not for that long. A swim in the lake? Well, it was a few weeks out from winter so that was unlikely. Fred huffed as he hopped off the stairs on the fourth floor and walked towards the library. Passing by he noticed a group of Hufflepuff boys sitting around a table and Professor Pince shushing them furiously. He kept on past the library and made his way down a mostly empty corridor.

The clock was nearing five in the afternoon and it was definitely out of the ordinary for the two of you to go this long in one day without even passing by one another. Maybe you were in the common room. Just with his luck you would show up right when he left. As the thought seemed to be a possibility, the sudden sound of your familiar light, delicate voice, hit his ears. Halting completely, Fred peeked his head towards the staircase on his left where the noise came from.

“Y/n?” The inquiry came quietly. Fred half wondered if he had imagined it. No reply came to his question, but he did hear someone speaking again, a new voice he recognized as his little sister’s. Moving closer to the open, cobble stairwell, Fred suddenly stopped when he heard the shaky voice of his little sister and the sound of tears splashing against the hard ground.

“He doesn’t even notice me, Y/n! I’m practically invisible in his eyes… I hate it.” Ginny’s somber cries became louder as Fred stood just on the other side of the arch in the wall. He caught a small glimpse of the scene around the wall. On the bottom step, you and Ginny were sitting next to each other. Her head leaned on your shoulder as she sobbed sadly. It was a new sight- Fred was pretty sure he hadn’t seen Ginny cry since she was in diapers. Part of him wanted to beat the daylights out of whoever hurt his little sister, but he knew it would only cause more chaos for Ginny if he injected himself now. Fred was brought back to reality when your comforting tone reassured Ginny.

“Oh Ginny, don’t say that. He’s just stupid- boys are like that. I honestly don’t think he realizes what he’s doing.” Fred wondered who you were talking about. Did Ginny fancy someone? The sniffles of his sister shook the air. Her face left your shoulder as she buried it into the sleeves of her jacket. The material soaked up her salty teardrops and she forced herself to take some deep breaths in order to calm down. Just as her body stopped quivering, the thought entered her mind again and she remarked,

“He’s never gonna-”

Fred looked on in surprise as you leaned forward and pulled Ginny in for a tight hug. Your hand rubbed along her back, soothing the young girl. She rubbed her eyes constantly, the redness only worsening. Pulling away, you rubbed the drops away from under Ginny’s eyes and gave her a small smile,

“No, he will. I just think he’s got all this stuff with ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’ on his mind… but even if he doesn’t, then he’s not the one. You’re an amazing person, Ginny. Any guy would be lucky to have you but you’re too young to be heartbroken over a little boy. I don’t want you wasting your time being sad about boys when you should be having fun with me and your friends!”

“You really mean that, Y/n?” Her eyes lit in hopefulness. Ginny had quickly become a little sister of sorts to you. Seeing her upset, hurt, mad, anything, you felt it too. Although Ginny was young, only thirteen. You didn’t want her ruining herself chasing after a boy who wasn’t able to give her the time and attention she deserved. Being friends with Harry, your judgement told you that the poor boy most likely didn’t even catch onto the fact Ginny fancied him.

Chosen one? Yes. Oblivious one? Also yes.

On the other side of the wall, Fred’s heart was basically goop from the exchange. He messed with his sister, sure, but she was still his baby sister and it meant the world to him to see you, his girlfriend, so kind, and sweet to Ginny.

“I would never lie to you, Ginny.” You promised her.

“I should go wash up before dinner, I’m sure I look a mess! I’ll see you then, okay? And… thank you, Y/n. It means a lot to have you around and I don’t know, it’s cool to have you as a friend.” She reached forward and gave you one last hug. You grinned at her and said,

“Of course, Ginny. It’s cool to have you as a friend as well.”

Fred smiled to himself. He never realized just how much his sister looked up to you and it made him feel prouder than ever to call you his.

Not long later, Ginny rushed off down the staircase heading back for her dorm room. It had been hours since she’d return so it didn’t seem like the best choice to go missing for hours then show up for dinner with a blotchy face from crying. She wasn’t up for the questions and prying. You waved goodbye to her then sat for a few moments by yourself in silence. Well, at least you had assumed you were alone.

Right as your body began sinking in relaxation into the step, an entering pair of footsteps caused your eyes to snap open. Emerging from the open hallway outside the stairwell was a particular adorning red head you had grown to love so much. Fred stepped in through the arch and grinned at you. You were surprised by his presence, you had yet to see him all day, having spent most of it comforting Ginny, so you were taken aback that he was able to find you.

“Freddie! How did you find me?” You jumped up with a grin and threw your arms around Fred’s neck. His knees pulled him down from the force and his hands wrapped around your waist, accepting the embrace fully. Chuckling loudly Fred joked,

“Ah, so you were hiding from me!”

You sent him a narrowed look and pointed towards the direction where Ginny had retreated.

“No, no, I wasn’t hiding. Your sister needed me so I decided to be with her. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-” Your apology was cut short by the feeling of Fred’s plump lips kissing yours. He kept the kiss short and sweet, just wanting to taste your lips. He went almost the whole day not seeing you so he wasn’t able to resist for much longer. You kissed him back, a bit more forcefully than Fred. His lips danced against yours, the action of snogging being second nature among you two. Fred pulled away slowly, his lips staying close to yours. Your foreheads were leaning against each other, smiles plastered on both your lips.

“That was maybe the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so nice to Ginny, love. You didn’t need to do that.” He insisted in a whisper tone. Moving your forehead against his you explained,

“I wanted to, she’s my friend. I really care about her and… I don’t know, I’ve never had someone who looks up to me so, it’s kinda fun to know someone thinks I’m admirable.”

Glancing up, Fred’s eyes were already locked on yours. The warmth and homeiness of his honey pooled eyes pulled you in. Brown eyes never looked so perfect until you met Fred. Stepping up on your tiptoes, your hand secured itself along Fred’s jaw as you tugged him towards you. He parted his lips as you planted another kiss to his mouth. It was more of a peck, a tinny smooch leaving you to separate quickly. Leaning back into Fred’s arms, you basked in his hold. Never once did you ever feel exposed to danger when Fred had his arms clasped around you. It was impossible.

“That’s why I love you, you’re just perfect in every way. Everyday you find new ways to make me fall in love with you all over again...you’re too sweet, darling. Thank you for looking out for Ginny. It means a lot to me. Even if it means I have to share my time with you, which is just criminal, it does mean a lot.” His lips wasted no time scattering a mess of small, wet kisses along your face. No inch was left unkissed. You giggled wildly as he continued for a few moments. Planting one last kiss to your pursed lips, Fred stopped his attack and leaned back to smirk at you. Your laughter died out as you began to calm yourself. Smiling over to Fred, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in reassurance. “Of course, Freddie. I love you, babe.”

Lifting his hand, he rested his cheek on the skin of your hand. His face turned so he could press a faint peck to your hand, then he glanced up at you through his lashes.

“I love you too, darling. How bout we make up for all that lost time, hm?” That devilish, mischievous smirk you saw far too often had returned. Playing dumb you just chuckled,

“I was thinking the exact same thing, I was wanting some dinner too!”

“You know that wasn’t what-” You interrupted him, placing your pointer finger in the center of his lips creating a ‘shush’ gesture. He stared at you waiting for the next move. It was now you who held the bold smirk. You grasped Fred’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs so you could get to the Great Hall. His face fell in disappointment, clearly expecting a different turn of events. You didn’t leave him down for long when you batted your long lashes up at Fred and stated,

“Dinner first, then dessert after, okay?” It was the way you said it rather than the words themselves that did him in. That playful gleam that sparked in your eyes, he loved it.

Fred immediately felt his clothes, more specifically his trousers, turn tight at your words alone. He side eyed you as you skipped down the steps, unsure if you were the one teasing him now, or if you were being truthful. Narrowing his peer in seriousness, Fred tried to decipher the sickly sweet smirk on your lips. It wasn’t until you turned the tables, lifting his hand up to kiss the back of it, that he realized you weren’t joking. Eagerness took over as Fred locked his hand even more securely around yours and sped up his pace to the Great Hall. “Anything you say, love.”

He practically chased you the whole way to the dinning hall, your loud laughter filling the silence in the air. Your friends chuckled when they saw you two running in. You guys never seemed happier and it made all they ecstatic to see their friends finding love with each other. George waved the two of you over having saved a spot next to him for both of you. Fred escorted you to the opening, his hand never leaving yours even when you sat. For the rest of the meal, Fred’s hand rotated between your hand and your thigh, but never left your skin. And when Ginny sat down and smiled over at you, engaging you in conversation, Fred just squeezed your hand with a small grin, and pretended not to listen in. From then on, Fred only interrupted your hangout sessions to join in, and surprisingly, Fred Weasley was a great gossiper.

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