#i just wish i could be met on my field sometimes. i wish my natural behaviors didn’t read like apathy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aquidragon · 1 year

Text

Compulsory

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4902

Summary: There was no one you hated more than your ex-boyfriend Leon Kennedy, however, until he appears in your office after a long mission that changed everything.

Content Warning(s): smoking, reference to drinking, refrence to drugs, nsfw content, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

(this is my magnum opus, I can die now)

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You weren’t sure if there was anyone you hated more than you despised Leon Scott Kennedy. Even if you searched in the farthest corners of the universe, it would be hard for any living thing to somehow beat the burning, red-hot hatred that burned deep in your heart.

You also hated that there was no one else in the infinite galaxy that you could love more than you loved Leon. His presence was like a drug, pulsing throughout your entire body, fueling you with aphrodisiac. Your nerves tingled at the thought of him, the hair on your neck stood on end in remembrance of his warm touch on your bare skin. The scent of sandalwood, refined whiskey, and rust haunted your senses.

You couldn’t get enough, you craved him again, you wanted to feel him rushing through your veins again. You needed him to feel alive. The burning desire to be dependent on him again weighed heavily in your mind, your body and your soul. It was why you loathed him, why you never wanted to see his alluring, mysterious frozen ocean eyes again.

Leon had shattered every effective piece of your heart when he walked away, when you demanded him to stay. It had been a cold, stormy night, your clothes were soaked to your bones as you screamed at him. Hot tears streaked down your cheeks, mixing with the freezing droplets that fell from the heavens. His eyes held the same empty, hollow walls that you had fought so hard to tear down. You had reached into the abyss of his mind, every secret, every memory, every emotion that he felt was once at your fingertips.

Before you could grab a hold, you were forced out by a violent tsunami. Sealing away what was once yours, for what you assumed to be forever. Leon Scott Kennedy became a mystery to you once again, a stranger whom you never knew. You thought you had known him once, as well as he knew you, but you were wrong.

You saw him sometimes, walking the narrow hallways of the DSO building, in between assignments. His blonde hair and square shoulders lingered in the corner of your vision like a ghost. Occasionally, you’d catch cyan in your sight, as you briefly met his eyes. For seconds, you remembered when you were his, before it all crashed down to Earth. You’d tear your head away, cramming yourself in your work, unable to look at him any longer. You couldn’t bear the thought of him, a hot knife that tore through your chest, slicing you open; it made you vulnerable. Leon made you feel weak, powerless, similar to a deer caught in headlights. You hated him. You hated your own weakness.

You even had asked to be reassigned to a new agent, within the Field Operations Support, which you had been granted. Not many people within the DSO knew about your complicated relationship history with Leon, most people assumed you were just best friends who had a falling out. Sometimes, you wished that they were correct. It would’ve saved you years of heartache if the nature of your relationship with your former lover remained platonic. If the intimacy you had shared with the blonde agent continued at a surface level, far above the trench that pulled you both down deeper.

Maybe, you wouldn’t have drowned.

“Hey, did you hear about Kennedy's status?” The question that was directed at you felt muffled, your ears were underwater. You blinked, as reality set back in, and you turned to face your co-worker. Her perfect teeth peeked through her rouge-painted lips in a wide, ecstatic smile.

“Kennedy? He’s not in my detail anymore, remember?” You grumbled, finishing off the rest of your water bottle. “Why?” Ingrid Hunnigan was one of the few people who you told about your former relationship with Leon, who she often updated you about, much to your personal dismay.

“He successfully extracted Miss Graham, they’re landing back in the states in thirty.” She practically cheered, taking a celebratory sip from her hours-old fast food soda. “The president is thrilled, I hope that means a pay increase.” Hunnigan sang her excitement, as Leon’s direct communication agent, his accomplishment reflected well onto her.

“Congratulations, you deserve it.” You smiled at her, as you suddenly craved a cigarette.

Her excitement began to ebb away as she rested a gentle hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know that talking about Leo-,” she hesitated, “-Kennedy isn’t easy for you.”

You chuckled, humorlessly, shaking your head. “I know this is a big deal for you, don’t sweat it. I’m fine.” You licked your lips, wishing you hadn’t finished your water. “You deserve a massive promotion, honestly.” You shut off your headset, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied groan. “I’m going to have a smoke, I’ll be back.”

It was perfectly cool outside, you brought the paper stick to your lips, before beginning to light the white end of it. You had supposedly stopped smoking a year ago, alongside Leon, after creating a pact to quit. After you broke up, and an emotional breakdown at a bar, you gave into the compulsion. The hot, foul-smelling smoke fueled your lungs as you inhaled, and your built up frustrations rushed out with your exhale. “Shit,” you mumbled softly as you watched a familiar, private helicopter grace the horizon. You decided this warranted another puff from your cigarette, before stomping the butt into the pavement.

Although you were no longer one of Leon’s agents, Operation Baby Eagle required almost every Field Operations agent to be on deck. You had attempted to call in sick, but your impending rent payment had other plans. While you didn’t have any direct impact on the mission, you were still required to visually confirm Leon Kennedy and Ashley Graham’s safe return from Spain.

You were grateful you didn’t have to verbally confirm with them, at the very least. With a longingly sigh, you walk back inside the building, to get ready to head to the airstrip. You stand beside Ingrid, alongside the president and a large party of other people you didn’t know to welcome Ashley and her rescuer. You tapped your foot, impatient, and perhaps a little anxious as you watched the helicopter slowly lower to the ground. The wind whipped up from the spinning blades causes your hair to loosen from the hairstyle you chose to wear it in, as dust gets into your eyes.

Within seconds, the aircraft’s blades slow to a stop, and the doors open. Leon exits first, his perfectly cut hair frames his angular face perfectly, his eyebrows remain in their permanent, serious position. You almost scoff at his overly stoic appearance, but you decided that that wouldn’t be very professional to do, feet away from the President of the United States. Ashley follows after her rescuer quickly, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but her face lights up in a smile at the sight of her parents. Without a moment of hesitation, she rushes into the waiting arms of her father, sobbing as they embrace her.

You crack a smile at the sight, while Hunnigan is almost in tears. Your gaze shifts back to the blonde agent, who stands at attention a few feet away from you. Leon’s eyes are as distant as they always are, a solid cold blue, resembling ice. For a moment, you swore those same eyes met yours, but you weren’t sure. “Thank you, agent Kennedy, for bringing back my daughter safely. I’m forever indebted to you.” President Graham’s words are professional, while warm at the same time.

“Anytime, Mr. President.” Leon responded, in a mostly friendly manner. You can tell that he was exhausted, based on the heavy ring of purple that underlined his eyes, as well as the subtle sag of his shoulders. A large, loud part of you wanted to rush over, wrap your arms around him to take care of him. Like you would have if you were here, a couple months ago.

Ashley freed herself from her mother’s embrace, looking up at Leon with watery eyes, a grateful smile gracing her youthfully pretty face. “Thank you, Leon.” She hugged him, her arms wrapping underneath his arms, as she buried her face deeply into his chest.

“Take care, Ashley.” The blonde agent cracked a smile, returning her hug briefly. His head lifted to meet your eyes, and his smile fades. A pathetic, sad looking expression formed on his face, you smile anxiously, more akin to a grimace.

“We can talk more about paperwork and such tomorrow. Tonight, all of you go home. Get some rest, you deserve it.” Graham orders, his stern facade returning. “Good work, thank you.”

The crowd began to disperse, you yawn, as you walked back inside the building. You step into your office, as you begin to pack your stuff together, mentally noting a thanks to the president for gracing you with the ability to go home early. As you slid your bulky laptop into your work messenger bag, your door creaked open. “Hunnigan, I’m going home, we can go to Cowboy’s Tavern tomorrow. I’m fucking exhaust-” you look up, finally, and met the stormy blue eyes of Leon Scott Kennedy.

“What the fuck are you doing in here, Kennedy?” You spat out his name like venom, as your heart faltered. You felt sick, as he shut the door behind him, his expression unreadable. “I’m pretty sure I remember that you made it clear you didn’t want to see me again. Ever.” You avoid looking at him, choosing to focus on the task at hand; gathering your stuff. “I thought we were in agreement there.”

He tiredly mumbled your name, standing a foot away from you, on the opposite end of your desk. “I know what I said, just please, hear me out.” Leon’s voice is weak, raspy, as if he hadn’t had water in days. He pleaded your name, finally forcing you to look up at him, apprehension burning through your head.

For once, in months, the frozen walls of his soul were gone. Leaving his blue eyes open, desperate, all of his feelings pouring out of his soul like a cascade. Your eyes widened, as your mouth fell open. In the brief time you spent with him, you had never seen him cry. Until that moment, in your office, standing before you with wet salty tears carved through the collected dirt on his face. His hands grabbed onto the oak surface of your desk tightly, you were sure that the wood would splinter underneath his touch.

“I know you don’t want to see me, or talk to me. I broke your heart and I deserve it.” Leon blurted, reaching out to grab one of your hands. Instinctively, you flinched, but you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him hold it, as he leaned over your desk. “I just needed to see you, I needed to know that you’re okay.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused. “Leon, I,” you cleared your throat, “where is this coming from?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. “We haven’t spoken in almost a year, now you come back into my office like this? What happened?” Your heart pounded wildly against your chest, like a caged bird, desperate to fly free. You felt nauseous, as your stomach churned and your thoughts spun violently.

“I almost lost myself,” Leon admitted, vaguely. “They infected me, I couldn’t-” he paused, inhaling deeply. “The only thing that kept me together was you, thinking about you.” The blonde exhaled through his nostrils, in a strange laugh. “I realized I couldn’t live without you, I thought I was protecting you, but I put everyone in danger instead.”

You studied his expression, swallowing the ball that had wadded in your throat nervously. His handsome face morphed in multiple expressions; desperation, fear, grief, and pain. It looked like he was in agony, as his large, calloused hand tightened over your smaller one. “What are you talking about?” You stammered, you felt breathless. “Leon, please tell me.”

“In Spain, Ashley and I were infected by Las Plagas, a parasite, similar to a virus.” He strained his words, struggling to get them out. “It allowed us to be controlled by an outside force, fuck, it felt like I was on fire. I thought I was going to die.”

You opened your mouth, but you were at a loss of words. Instead, you allowed him to get closer, as you pressed your lips against his temple. You allowed your hatred towards him to be silenced, for a moment, to comfort him. To provide sanctuary to his tormented mind, to allow the part of you that still loved him to shine though. “You’re okay now, I promise.” You whispered, scooting to sit on your desk, gently petting his back. Your fingers trailing over the bumps of his spine, as his damp forehead pressed against yours.

As always, his skin radiated heat, as your bodies sat magnetized closer together. Your positives were drawn to his negatives, as your hearts fused together in an electrifying sense. You shut your eyes, as the same thrilling sparks that you craved for so long echoed underneath your flesh. His soft sobs evened out, as he pulled away from you, breathing heavily. Your name was rough, yet gentle on his tongue. His warm hands trailed over the curve of your waist, before coming up to cup your face.

“I never meant to hurt you.” Leon’s voice was like broken glass, as his thumb traced the skin below your eyes. “I thought if you hated me, loathed me, you would be safer. I didn’t think I needed you.” He trailed his lips against your forehead, before planting a kiss between your eyes. “God, I was wrong, please, forgive me.”

You straightened up on your desk, even from your position, sitting on the desk, he still towered over you. His body leaned over yours, as he held himself up, with both of his hands holding the end of the wooden oak. You felt him pull away, afraid that he had done something wrong, thinking that he had angered you more. For less than a heartbeat, you wanted to scream at him, for breaking you apart. However, the longing desire for the man that you loved so much to be yours again, even for a moment, washed away the hatred you had felt for him.

Against your better judgment, you pressed your lips against his mouth. Leon’s pale rosy lips were chapped, and your nerves smoldered with him. Your lungs inhaled the scent of sweat and blood. As he returned your kiss, feverishly, you could taste the metallic indication of blood in his saliva. One of his hands pressed against your cheek bone, as he desperately tried to get closer to you. Your own palms traced over the firm muscles underneath his thin, stretchy, shirt.

He was almost overloading your senses, in the same way that he always did. You felt like you were going to collapse, as you steaded yourself with a hand by your hip. The other hand, found itself in his filthy ash-blonde hair, you didn’t care. You didn’t think you’d even care if he was covered head to toe in blood and rotten flesh. You missed him. You wanted him. You needed him. You wanted him to take over you, to melt into your body and permanently become a part of you.

As your lungs burned for oxygen, Leon’s mouth left yours, breathing heavily. “You’ve been smoking again.” He commented gruffly, trying to catch his own breath.

You huffed, in a hint of a laugh. “Got a problem with that?” You gasped as his lips pressed against your neck, effectively knocking you backwards. The curve of your spine rested against the uncomfortable oak surface, but you didn’t notice. Your nerves sparked wildly from Leon’s touch, as his chest leaned against yours.

“I thought I taught you better than that, sweetheart.” He murmured lowly against the shell of your ear. You hadn’t heard him call you that in what felt like decades, which made electricity shoot through your body, making you almost giggle with delight.

“Well,” you breathed, “you haven’t exactly been able to keep me on track.” You wheezed as he rested his body weight on one of his arms to use his spare hand to drift over your curves. His pupils dilated, and his breath heavy against your face.

“You don’t think I’ve kept my eye on you, do you?” The blonde asked, almost patronizing you. “I know what you’ve been up to. I know what bars you’ve gone to every weekend, I know you drink yourself into oblivion every night.” He groaned, his teeth softly scraped against the tender skin on your neck. “If only you knew that, I ached for you every single time I thought about you.”

The thought of him watching you, from the shadows, when you weren’t paying attention made your brain spin with delight. You moaned as your fingers dug into his scalp, as he nipped at the flesh that joined your neck to your collarbone. “It almost hurt, y’know, that I couldn’t call you mine when I saw you with other people.” Leon pulled his face away from your body, looking down at you with blown, ocean eyes.

“Be mine, again.”

You exhaled sharply, as his gaze burned into yours. As he waited for your permission to go ahead, to continue what you both had started. Without a second thought, you yanked his hair down so he’d kiss you, in a passionate clash of your lips. He grunted in surprise, but quickly recovered as he melted into your mouth. Leon Kennedy was yours again.

As you kissed, your hands trailed down to his rough, black jeans, his erection strained against the thick fabric. You smirked against his lips as you fumbled with his leather belt buckle, before toying with the smooth button. He hissed once you freed his solid boner from his pants, as he squeezed your thighs in delight. “I almost forgot how beautiful you are, baby.” Leon panted, carnally, quickly tearing your work blouse over your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” He buried his nose between your breasts, inhaling your scent deeply.

You whimpered as his wet tongue traced the outline of your skin, over your bra, as his hands squeezed your biceps. “Jesus, fuck Leon, take off my bra.” You grumbled, desperate.

He gave you a wolfish grin, “your wish is my command.” Without another word, his teeth snagged the center of your bra, as his hands went undeath you to unclasp the back. Once the clasp was undone, he pulled the garment away from you with his teeth, before tossing it in an unknown direction in your tiny office. Goosebumps puckered across your skin as your sensitive nipples were exposed to the cool air, you shivered in delight.

Wordlessly, Leon climbed off of you to crouch at the end of the desk, his head between your feet. You sat up, confused, ready to ask him if he was done; before he used a firm hand to lay you back down. “Take off your pants and panties. Now.”

The commanding, desperate tone of his voice made your brain spin and heat pool between your legs. Without a single complaint, you yanked off your dress pants and panties. You made sure to aim the lacy undergarment at your partner’s head, who caught it with ease. Amused, he studied the fabric, before flinging it back to you. “Familiar.” Leon teased, before pulling your lower half over the edge of the desk.

You yelped as papers scattered onto the floor, as he held onto your ankles. Like a starving man, he buried his head in between your thighs, the hair on his head tickling your skin as his breath rushed against your swollen clit. “Oh Jesus Christ,” you groaned, as your head tilted backwards. Leon littered biting kisses alongside the underside of your upper thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded, smug eyes, before pressing a firm kiss against your sensitive bud.

You hissed in pleasure, as your toes curled inside your shoes. Your entire body flinched at the sudden, yet familiar feeling, as sparks began to echo from your pelvis. “I missed this, I missed you.” Leon murmured against your cunt as he dragged his tongue up the slit. You squeaked, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. “You taste as good as I remembered, sweetness.” Two of his fingers slipped inside you as his lips remained on your clit. You arched your back, giving him easier access as he devoured you. Your hips jerked as your moans grew in pitch, your muscles clenched tighter with every flick of his tongue and thrust of his fingers.

You cursed him and his ability to absolutely consume pussy. You almost thought he was attempting to eat you alive. You fruitlessly tried to grab onto something, to steady yourself, but all you could manage was crumpled up paper (that you hoped weren’t important) and sliding your fingers across the smooth surface of your desk. “Fuck! Leon!” You moaned as he curled his fingers against the sweet spot inside you, with ease.

Without intending to, the tightening sensation inside you suddenly snapped. You gasped, as white, blue and black sparked through your vision as you felt every nerve in your body explode. Like fireworks, scattered underneath your heated skin. Your jaw fell open as you grabbed ahold of Leon’s hair to steady yourself, making him hiss delightfully. He didn’t stop, instead, he continued to finger you as you rode out your orgasm. Monster.

As your high began to fade away, Leon pulled away from your soaked pussy. Covered in your own juices and his salvia. You could see the cocktail of his actions across the lower half of his face, reflecting the orange light of the sunset outside your window. You panted heavily, your arm resting on your damp forehead as he looked down at you, affectionately.

“Do you want to continue?” He asked, with a charming, gentle question. His lips pressing against your cheek, fingers filing through strands of your hair. You nodded, rapidly, as desire began to build back up throughout your body.

“Please,”

Leon grinned at you, before standing back up to completely undo his belt and pants. With an effortless move, he stripped his combat pants away, alongside his boxers. His dick was delightfully curved and thick. You had to force your eyes away from staring. Gently, he pulled your hips against his pelvis, as he stood at the end of the desk. He pressed the head of his erection against your prepared hole, and looked down at you.

You nodded encouragingly, with a smile, as he began to push himself inside you. You both gasped at the sensation, it felt familiar yet foreign at the same time. Leon let out a breathless moan, as he adjusted to the feeling of your heat around his dick. “Fuck,” he breathed out your name like a prayer, “you feel so good.” Without a second thought, he began to thrust inside you, as he began to rush through your veins.

Your body thrilled at the sensation of Leon Kennedy rushing through your skin again, you felt him inside every fiber of your being. Like a drug, an aphrodisiac, you could never get enough of it. You moaned out his name, as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing him closer to you. His forehead pressed against yours as your lips parted, looking into your lust hazed eyes. He groaned his desires to you, as his hands grabbed onto your hips tighter, nails digging into your plush flesh.

You didn’t just need him, he needed you too. In a knotted twist of fate that ensured that you could never live without him. You knew it meant the same to him as well, of course, as he pressed wanton kisses to the side of your face, whispering the words you loved to hear against your ear. You had never truly hated him, you realized, much to your own personal disdain. You had always loved him, even when you had denied it.

“I love you,” Leon moaned against your skin, in a raspy voice. “I always have, and I always will.”

You almost laughed in joy, but instead, you simply responded as breathlessly as he did, “I love you too.”

With a grunt, he came inside you, his hips pressed against yours, without an inch to spare between your bodies. With a wheezy chuckle, he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he emptied himself deep within you. You pressed a kiss to his temple, soothingly stroking his hair as he came back down to Earth.

You assured yourself for as long as you lived, you would always be the person who knew Leon Kennedy better than you knew yourself. He would know you better than anyone as well, forever bound by the allure that drew you closer together. You weren’t sure if you believed in soulmates, but you knew damn well that there was no one else in the universe who you loved more than him.

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reblogs greatly encouraged and appreciated. Thanks for reading!

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennendy angst #re4r #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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purplefangirl42 · 8 months

Note

For your prompts requests, how about some Cal and Kanan as padawans together? Or even meeting again as adults..whichever sparks your muse.

I think Kanan is a little older, but that doesn't necessarily translate as they would not be friends as kids. I just love his sort of harder sarcasm balanced against Cal's sweeter nature.

Thank you for the request! I'm sorry this took so long and I thank you for your patience. I hope it's what you were looking for! 💜

Tags: Padawan Buddies, Reunions, Survivor Solidarity, Mentions of Grief

Dividers by @eloquentmoon

Cal twiddled with his padawan braid as he watched the traffic fly by outside the large window. Wanting to find a place where he could think without being disturbed, he had climbed up here to this window ledge. If his master looked hard enough, he would find him, so he wasn’t worried about someone thinking he was missing. Although, Cal wasn’t sure if anyone would notice if he did go missing.

With the war raging across the galaxy, it seemed there were always more important things. He knew his master had been hesitant to take him on as a padawan in the middle of the war, and sometimes Cal wondered if that caution should have been headed. He would have been fine to wait in the crechè for a while longer if it meant he could have a master that would be able to designate more time to him.

Master Tapal had mentioned bringing him along on missions, in order to continue his training in the field, but once again he had hesitated. Cal knew he was younger than most human apprentices, and even those older than him had been kept back from the war as long as possible. One in particular he knew about was Caleb Dume. He was only a little older than Cal himself was, but he had just started going on missions with his master, Depa Billaba.

Cal both envied the other boy and had pity for him. He knew deep down that they all belonged at the temple, playing and learning with their fellow students. One of the crechè masters had said something along the lines of “being forced to grow up too fast”, but he figured that was part of life sometimes.

“What are you doing up there?” a voice from below asked.

Cal looked down and saw the very boy he had just been thinking of, as if he had been summoned by his thoughts.

“Just thinking,” he responded, turning his attention back to the window. “This seemed like the best place to do so.”

“Is there room for me up there?”

Cal gestured to the other side of the large window ledge, offering the space to the boy below. After a few moments of contemplation on his route, Caleb seemed to find the way up to him and was soon clambering up onto the ledge to settle in the designated empty spot.

“What are you doing out and about?” Cal asked. “Shouldn’t you be training with your master?”

Caleb shrugged and fiddled with a loose thread on his tunic.

“She’s busy right now, so she sent me to go do my own thing. I was on my way to the library when I noticed you were up here.”

“My master is busy too,” Cal said, letting out a heavy sigh. “He’s always busy.”

Caleb gave him a look of pity, which Cal wasn’t sure he appreciated.

“I know it sounds like I’m whining. I just wish this stupid war would be over so things can go back to normal.”

“I think everyone wishes that,” Caleb said. “It would have been even better if it had never started in the first place.”

Cal couldn’t argue with that. Maybe he would still be in the crechè. Although, he wondered if that meant he wouldn’t have met Master Tapal. He had heard there was a connection between masters and padawans that existed even before they started training together, so perhaps he would have ended up with him anyways. He also knew there were much bigger problems than where his training would have gone.

“I don’t understand why there needs to be so much violence over something as stupid as political disagreements,” Cal said. “Why should people’s different views be a reason to hurt innocent people and drag the entire galaxy into a devastating war?”

Caleb shrugged again and looked out the window at the passing traffic.

“I think it’s a lot more complicated than that. Something that we as padawans are too young and inexperienced to understand.”

“I’m told that I’m too young to understand a lot of things,” Cal said.

Caleb smiled and turned back towards him.

“That’s why we gotta learn what we can so we can understand the things grown-ups think we don’t. They won’t always be around to help us, so we have to learn to fend for ourselves if the situation calls for it.”

Cal shuddered at the thought of dealing with anything serious on his own without his master there to guide him. While he knew it was an inevitable part of life, he wasn’t in a hurry to get to that point. It seemed that his alone time for thinking had taken him down a path that he wasn’t interested in exploring right now.

“You wanna go get some treats from the mess?” he asked. “I’m tired of sitting up here and I’m hungry.”

“Sure!” Caleb said, shifting in place so his legs dangled over the edge. “I’m hungry too.”

The two boys jumped from the ledge, using the force to slow their descent towards the floor. Cal had to admit that Caleb was better at it than he was, his landing a lot smoother and without stumbling. The pair of them walked off down the hall, sharing what kind of treats they hoped to find in the mess when they arrived.

Kanan picked his way through the market, his eyes flicking from face to face. He always had to have his guard up when he was on a new planet, never knowing who he might run into. He doubted there were many people that would recognize him, but you could never be too careful. He had argued with Hera about which of them should go out to get the supplies, an argument that he had lost when she said she had some repairs to make on the Ghost. Which was how he found himself in his current location.

As he perused the goods in the stands he passed, Kanan made sure to keep one eye on the crowd around him. He stopped at one stand that was selling meilooruns, checking their price. Maybe if he brought a few back for Hera, she would soften up a bit more. He knew she liked them. Just as he was about to ask the owner of the stand to help him, he noticed someone in the crowd.

A tall man with a shock of red hair was pushing through the crowd a short distance from him. A long scar ran down his face onto his neck. Overall, he seemed a bit worse for wear. A look that Kanan recognized from his stints in that same position. Something about the man seemed familiar to him, something he couldn’t quite figure out.

Do I know him?”

Kanan wiped that thought from his mind as soon as it appeared. He didn’t know anyone. Everyone he once knew was gone. His master, the order, and all of his friends. The man he had noticed turned to look at him and their eyes met for a moment before the other man turned away, shaking his head.

Does he know me?

Kanan felt a surge of hope swell up in his chest as he looked at the man again. Red hair, freckles, familiar features. He was transported to a time in his memories when he knew a kid with similar qualities, a fellow padawan. Cal Kestis.

It can’t be him. He’s dead.

Kanan squashed the flicker of hope down and turned his attention back to the fruit stand in front of him. He didn’t dare let his heart run away with the hope that there were more survivors, that some of his friends may have made it out. Hoping was dangerous. There was no way Cal could have survived what had happened at the end of the war, he had only been a kid.

So were you.

Passing over some credits, Kanan grabbed the bag of fruit from the vendor and walked in the opposite direction from where he had seen the red haired man standing. It was better to just walk away and forget about the whole thing.

Cal bounced in his seat as the Mantis entered the orbit of Yavin 4. He was anxious to meet the members of the Rebellion that he had heard so much about. Especially the Spectres of Phoenix Squadron. He had heard rumors that there was a pair of Jedi among the group, a master and apprentice.

“Kid, would you quit?” Greez grumbled beside him. “You’re practically vibrating.”

“He’s excited. Which is understandable,” Merrin said, coming up behind him and placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Greez is right though, Cal. You really are vibrating.”

Cal gave her a small smile and placed his hand over hers on his shoulder.

“It’s not everyday you find another survivor,” he said. “I’ve been hearing so many rumors and I’m anxious to know if there’s any truth to them.”

“I understand,” Merrin said. “If I knew that any of my sisters were still out there, I would do anything I could to reunite with them.”

Cal squeezed her hand before releasing his grip and reaching forward to help Greez complete the landing cycle. Once the ship was settled, he took a deep breath and stood from his seat, walking out of the cockpit. BD-1 beeped inquisitively from the holotable, checking if he was alright.

“I’m fine BD, just nervous.”

The droid jumped off the table and landed on Cal’s back securing a grip on his shirt. The door opened as the ramp extended down to the ground. As Cal walked down the ramp, he could see several figures waiting for him. A green-skinned Twi’lek stepped forward, extending a hand for him to shake.

“Welcome Cal Kestis. It’s good to finally meet you,” she said. “My name is Hera Syndulla.”

Cal shook her offered hand and nodded in greeting.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about your squad and the good you’ve done against the Empire.”

Hera raised an eyebrow at his words, obviously surprised to hear them.

“Really? I wouldn’t think Saw would have anything good to say about us. He doesn’t really agree with the way we do things.”

“He can be a little difficult to get along with sometimes,” Cal agreed. “But he spoke highly of some of your crew, specifically a pair of Jedi. I was hoping to meet them.”

Hera gave him a small smile and gestured for him to follow her across the landing zone. As the pair of them walked together, Cal noticed that Hera seemed a bit nervous herself.

“I didn’t tell them you were coming,” she said. “I wanted to make sure you were the real thing before I got Kanan’s hopes up. He’s been looking for other surviving Jedi for so long and I didn’t want him to be disappointed.”

Cal understood what she meant about having hope and then having it be destroyed. He had followed many leads to only have them end in disappointment and grief. He had been ready to give up on his mission to find other Jedi, thinking that it was impossible for him to come across any other survivors at this point. But when Saw had said he knew these Jedi personally and that they were the real deal, he had resigned himself to one last truth searching trip.

“Here we are,” Hera said, leading him to a small area surrounded by large crates.

A group of people sat around talking; an older man, a man with a ponytail and mask, a young woman that looked to be wearing Mandalorian armor, a young man in orange, and to Cal’s great surprise, a Lasat. The sight of the Lasat caused Cal’s heart to clench in his chest. Although he had long ago come to terms with his grief for his master, there was always something that could bring back the pain in small amounts.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet a very special guest,” Hera said. “This is Cal Kestis. He’s a purge survivor and has been fighting alongside Saw and his band of fighters for the past few years.”

Everyone but the man in the mask gave Cal a wave in greeting. He returned their hellos with a polite nod to each person, but when he got to the last man, he was surprised to find him reaching for him. Cal took the man’s offered hand, which clutched at his own with strength he was not expecting.

“Cal? Is that really you?” the man asked. “You’re alive?”

“As far as I know, but I do have a friend that can bring back the dead. She could have done something like that without telling me,” Cal joked, trying to ease the tension surrounding them.

The man before him reached up and pulled the mask from his face, revealed clouded eyes slashed through with an angry red mark. Something about his face seemed familiar to Cal, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Kanan?” Hera called out softly. “Do you know him?”

Cal couldn’t remember knowing anyone named Kanan. He reached out with the force to touch the other man’s mind. It was both foreign and familiar to him, like someone he had once known but had gone through much change and heartache.

“I used to be called Caleb,” the man Hera had addressed as Kanan said. “Caleb Dume.”

Cal felt all the air leave his lungs. Never in all these years had he thought that his friend could still be alive. In his search, he had found a record of Master Billaba’s death and had assumed that Caleb had died along with her on Kaller.

“Caleb…you’re alive?”

The man nodded, a smile forming on his lips. Before he could stop himself, Cal surged forward and wrapped his arms around his childhood friend, holding him tightly against him. To his surprise, his embrace was returned. The two of them stood locked in their embrace for a few moments before Cal pulled away to look at him again.

“You know, I think I saw you a number of years ago in a market,” Kanan said. “I couldn’t let myself believe it was you at the time so I walked away. I didn’t think you were still alive.”

Cal thought back to a similar experience he had been through. He had been in a market once and had a strange encounter with a man across the crowd. He had assumed the man had recognized him from his wanted posters and quickly left the scene. He had buried the feeling that he knew the man deep inside himself, focusing on getting away from the market and the danger it presented.

“That was you,” he said. “I remember that day. I thought you were going to turn me in.”

Kanan laughed softly and shook his head.

“Two Jedi find each other and the first thing we do is run away.”

“Oh how times have changed,” Cal said. “But I have no intention of running away this time.”

Kanan placed a hand on Cal’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“That’s good to hear. I have many things to tell you.”

Cal laughed at that statement.

“As do I. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve been through the past few years.”

Kanan led Cal over to a box to sit down before gesturing to the people around them, formally introducing them to him. He called over the younger man in orange, presenting him as his padawan, Ezra Bridger.

As the group talked about their experiences, Cal couldn’t help but to think about his own crew from the Mantis. This group seemed to have a similar sense of family and companionship that he had experienced with Merrin, Greez, BD-1, and Cere. He was glad that Caleb, or Kanan as he was now known as, hadn’t been alone for all the years they were apart. And now that they had found one another, neither one of them would be alone again.

#star wars #star wars: rebels #jedi: fallen order #cal kestis #kanan jarrus #caleb dume #star wars fanfiction

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faerytreealtars · 9 months

Text

~♡* How best to be kind to oneself *♡~

Hello, Saplings! 🌱 A new PAC today that I hope you enjoy, take a deep breath, and choose whatever images resonate with your soul and heart, Happy reading! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

It seems to be a common occurrence in modernity to not appreciate yourself, instead we are pushed to always seek ways to improve ourselves and put down if we seem to love our self. We sometimes end up not feeling worthy enough to be kind to ourselves. While it is all well and good to improve ourselves physically, mentally and spirituality I think is time for you to take a break and think to yourself, what is it that I should be kinder to myself about? Perhaps this pick a card will help you discover what!

I would love to hear if the message you received resonated with you, so don’t feel afraid to comment, for it makes me so happy to connect with you all! 💕

[My Instagram ♡ ︳ Personal Readings ♤ ︳Faery Masterlist ☆]

Pile 1

[ Cards: Five of Cups, Two of Cups, Queen of Wands, The Star ]

Dear Pile one,

Just because of mistakes you made in the past doesn't mean you don't deserve happiness, to have a dream or ambition to achieve. The same goes if someone hurt you in the past don't make the mistake of closing yourself off from opportunities or relationships, be they platonic or romantic. Allow your heart to be curious and give your brain a rest. This is how you can be kinder to yourself.

Oracle: Hansel - Survival

When the moon came they set out, but they found no crumbs, for many thousands of birds that fly about the woods and fields had picked them up. Hansel said to Gretel, "We shall soon find our way" This tale is one that lodges in our minds and stays with us our whole life. These children are not lost nor do they accidentally come across hardship, they are most deliberately abandoned by their father and stepmother...everything that takes place within this tale is horrifying, and yet everything is met with equal measures of teamwork, truth & fear...the tale shows you that you too must find a clever way to outwit those who would harm you at the moment. you have to develop courage and the situation you find yourself within gives you the opportunity to truly be better

Pile 2

[ Cards: Justice, Three of Swords, Nine of Cups and The Emperor ]

Dear Pile Two,

You really need to give yourself a chance, don't put yourself down we know you are wiser than you let on. Your soul knows what it wants, what it deserves so please stop letting others use & abuse you. We know you have a caring heart, you wish to see others happy but what about your own happiness? Our advice to you is to put yourself first, be the Queen/King you already are on the inside but bring it to your outer world. If anyone tries to shame or gaslight you for finally putting your needs first don't engage for they only want to bring you down.

Oracle: Snow-White & Rose-Red - Sister Love

This beautiful tale is about sisterhood, love, and family, and the love and trust people who have been raised well, and nurtured tenderly can give. It is a testament to nature and the trust that the sisters have between them. Their family, which could be bitter, for they are not rich is small, close, and full of love. They have been taught to share everything and they do so, and in that sharing greater goodness can be created. When this card comes to you, know that it is time to do good turns (for yourself). To appreciate the small fortunes you have and to know that whatever blessing you have, it can expand and grow richer, deeper, and more lasting when we place our attention upon the blessing. so know at this time, it is important to appreciate what you have been gifted, love the friendship and family who have been good to you, and find every gem in the dirt, every star in the darkness. Make this your habit, and the rewards will be peace, and joy, and contentment.

Pile 3

[ You are one, Ace of Wands, Nine of Swords, Queen of Pentacles ]

Dearest Pile Three

You need not be afraid of showing one's true self to the world. Those who love, & appreciate your truth will come and that is all you should focus upon. Your energy is that of a deer - peaceful, graceful, and full of compassion, a guiding light that can at the very least help one other soul in this lost world, so be brave and be authentic. Our advice to you is to show yourself some empathy at this current time. Acknowledge the unkind whispers that slither into your mind as untrue, planted by broken souls afraid of the light they see in you. Don't let it smother the light like overgrown weeds for there is so much potential you've yet to unleash

Oracle: The Wild Swans - Dedication

This is a tale of suffering in order to save family or people we care for, from a fate that is not their choosing. It is a tale of sacrifice - and of sacrifice that must be done without recognition. In this tale, a young woman's brothers are enchanted into the form of swans and she is told there is only one way to free them and that is through spinning magical cloaks made from flax of stinging nettles. Not a word can be spoken during this task so for years this woman has hands that are disfigured from the burning and the pain, feet that can barely tread upon the earth, and she must do this all in silence. Her dedication to this bizarre task and her silence in the face of demands for explanations creates mistrust all around her - but the truth is she cannot speak she must keep to her task - so the message of this card is your own dedication may be perceived as madness but it will result in healing, creativity, and great breakthroughs

Thank you to all who have read this far! I hope you found comfort, peace and/or wisdom through this pick a card. Every like and reblog is appreciated greatly by me and helps me so much, so thank you to all you lovely souls who find my work and like it! It Fills me so much joy!

- Love, Fae 🔮🧚‍♀️

#tarotblr #channeling #divination #cartomancy #tarot #♡ messages channelled from the divine ♡#pac tarot #pac #pick a card #Pick an image #Angel messages #faery tarot #tarot cards #oracle #guardian spirits #guardian angels #self love #self growth #self healing

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highmarc · 1 year

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Spending time together

Sebastian

Will probably take MC to Honeydukes.

MC: *arrives a bit later than expected* Hello, Sebastian. I hope I’m not too late. *is basically out of breath*

Sebastian: No you’re not. I just got here myself. 50 minutes ago…

MC: I’m terribly sorry! There was this mooncalf I had to rescue and a-

Sebastian: I peeerfectly understand. *sly smile* Your treat this time.

MC: All right. But don’t just buy everything you see.

Sebastian: Oh, I won’t.

*grabs anything he can think of at Honeydukes*

MC: *in panic* Sebastian?

Sebastian: Yes?

MC: *whispering* I forgot my purse!

Sebastian: Oh Merlin’s… I thought you were bringing the money, so I-

MC: You what?

*grabs MC by the hand and runs out of the shop with them*

Later at Hogwarts.

MC: can’t believe we stole these… This is going to be in my record.

Sebastian: Nah, you’ll be fine. *sees that MC are not actually fine*

Don’t tell me you think about becoming an auror….

Ominis

Hogsmeade pond meeting. The meeting will be completely accidental.

Ominis: *angrily throws stones in the pond*

MC: *notices familiar face and approaches Ominis* Hello, Ominis. It’s nice to see you here.

Ominis is startled at first, but then faintly smiles.

Ominis: Hello there, MC. How do you fare?

MC: I guess I’m just fine. What about you?

Ominis: I don’t know. I’ve just… met my older brother here. Hogsmeade. Of all places. *sighs*

MC: What was he doing here? How do you know it was him and not someone else?

Ominis: He approached to talk to me. Nothing good was in his words. Always going on and on about “the family”. How they “need” me. I laughed in his face and walked away. Not a single owl all these years, all those horrors I had to witness… and now they need me. The Gaunts have some twisted sense of humour.

MC: I’ll say.

*gently hugs Ominis*

MC: I bet you’re in dire need of cheering up. What about a butterbeer or two? My treat. Or we can go wherever you like-

Ominis: No, I like the idea. Besides, I ran out of stones already.

Poppy

The Three Broomsticks it is.

MC: You’ve never had a butterbeer in your entire life?

Poppy: Nope.

MC: Ever?

Poppy: I just… *sighs* You’re one of my first friends here. No one would just go and have a butterbeer with me.

Who would like to be seen around “the Peculiar Poppy”?

MC: I would. For sure. Don’t mind those bullies, you’ve got lots of friends – me, that scary dragon which almost ate us, its offspring, and, of course, Highwing! Do you think we could bring her some butterbeer?

Poppy: I don’t know. Do you think they serve beer in buckets here?

MC: Only one way to find out! *happy wink*

Natsai

Flower field.

MC are in search for a very particular runaway niffler.

MC: Where have you gone, I wonder? Little thief-

*sees a gazelle happily prancing through a flower field. And is completely mesmerized by the sight*

MC: Merlin’s beard. Is it-

*approaches the gazelle*

Natty!*waves to their friend* How wonderful to meet you here!

Natty: * turns into human form then blushes*

Ah, my friend. I did not expect to meet you here. A pleasant surprise indeed.

MC: Enjoying the weather and local views?

Natty: Yes, I thought how nice it would be to run through these fragrant fields and feel the sun’s warmth on my back, the wind whispering its songs in my ears.

MC: You sound so poetic! I wish I could enjoy something like this too.

Natty: Oh, in fact you can, too. Let’s seat here.

The two sit amidst tall grass and flowers, feeling the wind in their hair and the sun’s gentle warmth.

MC: It feels so nice.

Natty: I know. That’s why you should sometimes stop, forget about all the worries burdening you heart, and hear what nature whispers to you.

MC: *slowly makes a flower crown and puts it on Natty’s head*

Natty: *gasps and blushes* Thank you, this is so sweet!

MC: The nature whispered it to me. *beaming smile*

#hogwarts legacy headcanons #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #poppy sweeting #natsai onai

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illmindchatter · 5 months

Text

Returned Favor

It's a typical Atlanta Friday. Nothing glamorous. I took the day off to recover from an intense four days of negotiations and closing a major deal that blew out my quota for the quarter. I'm feeling like a Corporate Silverback- a beast in my career field- and things couldn't be going any better professionally. My girl is out of town and my weekend is free of responsibilities. Trying to figure out what I'm going to get into, I figured I'd straighten up the crib. Living such a washed up life to say the least.

We have this mutual friend named P. P is a stud who doesn't believe in not shooting her shot. If shooters shoot, nigga she's Kobe F. Jordan... the F standing for Fucking. P met a lady at the pool in our subdivision a few months back. I assume she was leaving from the neighbor's house and saw my car outside and decided to stop.

P came in, asked about my girl, and ended up on the couch with me while I was finishing folding clothes... the boring shit. We're shooting the shit and, never one to miss an opportunity to gloat, P says she was leaving from Pool Lady's house and noticed I was home. I took the bait and asked about her. Just like I figured, P wasted no time and spared no detail as she went on and on about how she ate her pussy until she came all over her face and how she fucked her with the strap. Typical nigga shit.

P is medium height, around 5'6", really petite, and has big titties but she wears a lot of baggy shit so it's hard to see her figure. I caught her sagging a few times, enough to notice she has a nice firm but round ass that she tries to hide. Listen, she's the homie BUT I still recognize her as a woman so her shape doesn't go unnoticed. All of that asside, the woman she met at the pool is taller and significantly thicker than P. I fucked with her by saying how that woman probably broke her in half and how she couldn't handle all of those curves on that woman. She kind of smirked and rolled her eyes. Seeing past my attempt to jab at her ego, she started flicking through channels on the TV and mumbled under her breath "I wish."

I had to pry a little bit and ask what she meant by that comment. She went on to explain how she always did all the work and how the woman was more of the pillow princess type and rarely returned the favor. She would never use the strap on P and just barely ate her out. Even getting fingered was just as rare. She was tired of being the woman's "little gay fetish" and wished she returned the favor sometimes.

"Welcome to life as a nigga!" I replied.

She laughed but said niggas aren't any better.

"Bullshit." I told her how niggas love eating pussy and returning the favor and how women forget that. "My girl is gone for the weekend and left me backed up because she has been on her period all week. At least you got some. I'm over here, dick dry as fuck!"

We both got a good laugh and kind of let the conversation die on its own. No need to stir up something neither one of us was prepared to deal with.

I couldn't help but ask though, "what does my neighbor taste like?" I'd be lying if I said she didn't catch my attention that day at the pool. I could only sneak glances as my girl was at with me and P but I definitely remember this woman was stacked. She had to be around 5'11" or 6 feet. Her hair was styled in a pixie cut, black with strands of gray. She wore large framed glasses that hid her eyes but her lips were plump like she sucked the skin off her husband's dick. I seen him around a few times and could only wonder how they fuck he was able to keep, let alone bag, and stallion like that. She had huge double D cup breast that I could tell were natural. Her areola would spill from the cups of her bikini top causing her to adjust multiple times that day. She carried a little extra weight around her waist and visible stretch marks around her stomach, one could only assume were from pregnancy. Her hips spread and she carried the fattest ass that chewed up her bikini bottoms. They weren't thong bottoms but you wouldn't be able to tell if you weren't studying this woman like I was trying to. Even my girl made a couple comments in admiration for this woman's build. She was stacked with thick thighs, well pedicured toes and white toenail polish to tie it all together.

"She definitely takes care of herself," P said snapping me out of my daze. "She's always well put together, smells nice, and her skin is always smooth to the touch. She gets waxed regularly too."

"That explains it! She probably doesn't return the favor because you don't wax P!" I said half jokingly.

P fired back, "how you figure I don't wax my shit?"

"I just assumed Studs do what niggas do. Grab the clippers and trim that shit!" I said ignorantly.

"Nah nigga. I get my shit waxed too. My homegirl from high school do it and lick my shit clean when she done."

I lost it. Shit was hilarious! I told her I didn't believe her and to let me see.

"Nigga don't be weird."

I wasn't serious... just mildly curious.

Later that day, P and I decided to step out to find something to eat. We usually sit at the bar most places and talk shit. Louisiana Bistreaux was the move that night. P wanted to grab a shower before we left (typical P, making my house her home minus the bills and other household responsibilities). I needed to clean up as well. I had a remodeling project going on in the hallway bathroom so P had to use the shower in my room after I got done.

I could hear the shower running so I dropped my towel, sit on the edge of the bed and began lotioning my body. I thought I was in the clear since I assumed P was in the shower so I took the liberty to revisit the thoughts of my thick ass neighbor spread over my bed begging for me to dive in. I give my rock hard dick extra attention as I use the lotion to glide up and down my rigid pole as I thought about plunging inside my neighbor's plump, glistening pussy. Suddenly, the door swings open with P asking for a wash cloth. Fuck! I didn't expect her to open the door and sure she wasn't expecting to catch me on the bed, dick on hard sticking straight, and me stroking my shit! I know she caught me because she slammed the door and kept apologizing. I didn't really give a fuck. I had been horny all week and in need of a release. There was part of me that found this situation quite funny. I got up, grabbed her a wash cloth and towel, and took it to her in the nude and dick swanging. She called me crazy, took the towel, and closed the bathroom door in my face. I noticed her eyes never left my dick though. I also noticed she didn't lock the door.

I waited until I heard her get in the shower and start to wash off. I gave it a little more time until I figured she was almost done and walked I'm the bathroom. My shower is glass enclosed and I could make out her figure through the steam and water on the shower door. I was still naked and dick semi hard and she seen me approaching.

"Bro, what are you doing? Get out!"

"Come on P. You seen my shit already. Let me see yours."

"Nigga, what?"

"You said your girl hooks you up on the regular... let me see!"

P smacked her teeth, paused, then replied, "If I show you, you'll get out?"

"Only if you want me to," I said with a smirk, dick starting to stiffen.

As P opened the shower door, she propped her leg on the shower bench revealing a beautiful, slick, meaty pussy. Her lips were thick and full, one of her labia minora longer than the other, and her clit was huge. It came out from under her clit hood and it was a bright pink. It looked like the tip of someone's thumb. My dick throbbed as I watched her spread her pussy and run those same two fingers over her clit and through the trimmed bush of her landing strip before closing the shower door and commanding me to get out.

I felt intoxicated. All I could think about was wrapping my lips around her engorged clit and sucking it. Is this how women feel when they desire to suck a dick??? Fuck. I'm trippin!

Reluctantly, I got dressed and waited for P to get out of the bathroom. I threw on some light blue jeans, a white short sleeve button up, and sprayed my neck and wrist with Tom Ford Oud Wood. That's when P came emerged from the bathroom dressed in some black skinny fit men's jeans and a fitted black tee and gave me this weird look.

I made my way back into the bathroom to oil my beard while P hung out in the room. We sat in an awkward silence until I decided to break the ice.

"Ol' girl tripping if she seen that pussy and didn't want to eat it. Couldn't have been me!"

"The fuck you mean bro?"

"I'm just saying. The pussy you showed me would've gotten devoured. That clit looked too good to pass up."

"Man you trippin. Niggas can't eat pussy. Besides, women like it when I tell them to suck this dick since my clit big. You ain't ready for that lol."

I felt like she tried me with that one. "Pull that dick out then and let's see."

She paused for a minute, debating whether to make a move. She saw my eye contact didn't waiver so she stood up and pulled her pants down. She wasn't wearing any underwear and her clit was sticking out.

The silence was deafening.

"Yeah. All I see is a clit and a fat pussy that would get wrecked."

"Yeah right bro. Issa dick. Just like I figured, you ain't ready."

I turned to her, pulled my dick out and replied "THIS is a dick. That's a clit. And I'll suck it until you bust."

She tried to play it cool and pull her pants back up and I asked her what she was doing.

"Putting my pants back on because you bullshitting."

"Nah, leave them off and sit on the bed." My towel was still on the edge of the bed so she sat on it.

As I walked over to her, I told her to let me get a closer look. She spread her legs but was still sitting upright. As I approached, dick fully erect, I told her to take off her shirt and lay back. She laid there in front of me in a sports bra and her jeans bunched around her ankles. I got on my knees, removing each leg from her pants until shr just laid there in a sports bra as i slid my hands up her smooth legs.

"You want me to suck your dick?" I asked.

"Please."

For the first time, I heard P plead like a wanting little bitch in heat, needing a release. I slid my tongue between her lips and into her opening as far as it could go and pulled it out.

"Just like I thought, still a pussy."

She couldn't do shit but cover her face and question her decision. Before she could have a second thought, I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked hard while my tongue slid underneath and danced around her opening. She gasped and bucked. I grabbed her thighs, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed and onto my face while I inhaled her clit. I sucked it sloppily as her juices drenched my beard and slid down the crack of her ass. I took two finger and slid them inside her pussy and hooked her gspot and massaged it while she grinded on my face. My other hand reached up and freed her titties and pinched her nipples. I sucked her pussy like my air depended on it. Her pussy began to squeeze and pulse my fingers and I could tell she was about to cum. I kept my pressure on her clit and massaged her gspot harder until her body began to buck. She let out a wild scream and grabbed my head pulling me deeper into her pussy as she shook uncontrollably as wave after wave wrecked her body and she came nonstop all over my face. The side of the bed was a soaked mess and her body continued to spasm as each aftershock crashed her body. I wiped the wetness from her pussy and used it to stroke my dick while watching her come down from her climax. Before she could fully regain her composure, I rubbed the tip of my dick up the slit of her pussy and massaged it against her clit. I took off my shirt and began to play with my own nipples while rubbing my dick against her swollen clit.

"Our dicks feel good when they touch, don't they?" I asked with a devilish grin. My body and thoughts running on demon time.

She looked at me while biting her bottom lip and nodded her head. Her eyes began to roll to the back of her head as her head fell back to the bed and another orgasm crashed her body.

Grabbing her thighs so she wouldn't close them on me, I pulled her back to the edge of the bed. My dick slipped down and the bulb of my tip rest right at her openinging. She didn't do anything to stop me or move away so I slid my dick in as deep as her tight pussy would take me.

She screamed "oh fuck!" Her eyes shot open but she didn't tell me to stop or move away. I pulled out completely, giving her a split second to recover. I leaned over to give her delicious pussy a lick then realigned and dove in deeper.

"This is the dick ol' girl should've gave you with that strap on."

I grabbed her neck as I slammed into her aggressively, each thrust more violent than the last. She screamed "yes!" and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer. I fucked her tight pussy until she creamed all over my shaft. I played with her clit with my free hand while I filled her wanting hole, bringing her to another orgasm. I officially owned P's pussy in that moment.

I flipped her over onto her stomach and straddled her, sliding deep inside her from the back. I hit a the bottom, right at her cervix, when I felt her legs kick. I breifly wondered if anyone had ever fucked her like this before. She was always the masculine one with all the women I seen her with. We referred to each other as bro and I always viewed and treated her as one of the guys. Yet, here I was fucking bro's pussy and loving every minute of it. There was even this dominant part of me that was insistent on showing her what it felt like to be a woman and under the control of a man. By this point, my ego was in control.

I pulled her locs and whispered in her ear "who got the dick now?"

"You do," she whimpered.

I pounded her pussy with hard, deep, slow strokes. She clawed the bed as I dug deep inside of her. As I bottomed on each down stroke, I could feel my balls slap against her swollen clit. As I continued to knock at the back of her pussy, grind at her cervix, and balls slam against her clit, she would cum again and again, squirting and soaking my bedding.

I leaned to her ear, nibbled on it, and told her "I love fucking this pussy, bro. You feel so fucking good. I know you feel me throbbing. You about to push me over the edge if you cum on my dick like that again."

I must have struck a nerve because I could feel her pulsing and rocking her hips back trying to meet my thrusts.

"oh fuck, I feel you P. You got a nigga so close!" I bottomed out and grinded my dick deep inside her pussy as I throbbed deep inside of her.

"Ohmygawd! I'm cumming daddy!!!" She screamed loudly as she began to cry in ecstasy as she trembled uncontrollably.

I couldn't hold it any more and moaned "fuck P! I cumming! I'm cummimg deep in this pussy! Oh fuck! I can't help it bro!"

I blasted P's insides and came rope after rope of hot cum deep inside her pussy. It brought P to another orgasm and she crashed flat onto the bed, limp and exhausted. I held my dick deep inside her pussy until every drop was well spent inside her pussy, no regard for the consequences. When I was fully drained, I rolled off and laid next to P for a moment. In that moment, I saw P as a person wanting and deserving of pleasure and I fortunate to be the one to give it to her. Bro or not and sexual orientation aside, all that mattered in that moment was giving the body what it craved... actually, what it deserved.

I got up and got dressed. P eventually did the same and met me downstairs, neither one of us said anything about what had just happened. P had a smile and a satisfied glow while we ate dinner and shot the shit at the bar that night. We drove separate cars and split up after leaving Louisiana Bistreaux and I went home to clean up the mess in our bedroom. A few hours later, almost 1AM, I get a text from P with an attachment. It was a picture of a plan B pill and a message that said "Thank you for returning the favor."

#illoriginal #ebony #returned favor #short story

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satansapostle6 · 5 months

Text

folie à deux

Sometimes poison is sweet.

Selina Romanov and Draco Malfoy met when they were only eleven years old. The two of them have always shared an intense bond, always having gravitated towards one another. But the question still remains, as the years pass by, is their connection one of passion, or delusion?

Warnings: Contains Mature Themes/Language, Themes Such As Sexual Content, Violence, Abuse, Sexual Assault, Eating Disorders

Four.

"Oi! Romanov!" Draco called after Selina at the conclusion of their Quidditch practice. "That was a hell of a move earlier!"

"Thanks. I'm just surprised you could keep up, Malfoy," she smirked as he walked towards her on the pitch, the both of them still in their uniforms.

"Draco! Draco! Hi!"

Both of their heads turned as Pansy came running onto the pitch, naturally making a beeline for Draco.

"Hey, Pans," he smiled, giving her a hug despite his sweatiness. "How was I?"

"Oh, you were phenomenal! You're an amazing player!" she gushed, earning an eye roll from Selina.

"God, I'd watch myself from the stands, if I could."

Selina leisurely looked over at Jasper as he approached them, no longer interested in making conversation with Draco as Pansy joined them. She decided it would be easiest to pretend as if they didn't exist to avoid the awkwardness and torture of interacting with Pansy Parkinson.

"Hey, you," Jasper walked up to Selina Romanov as Draco and Pansy both glanced over at him, seeming slightly more judgmental of others than usual. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna go and change right now," Selina responded, turning to Draco. "Later."

Draco Malfoy gave her a nod in her direction, the way he greeted all of his teammates and male friends. Pansy Parkinson scolded him quietly for not giving her his complete attention, showing him the silver pin that she'd gotten him to wear on his uniform during games for good luck. Draco took it eagerly, thanking her and giving her a hug. Selina hated seeing him be so friendly with Pansy, knowing that every kind word and hug she got from Draco was just another bragging point to her. Selina sighed as she changed her clothes alone in the girls' locker room, wishing she had other female teammates to share it with the way the boys did.

"Wait, are you serious?" Jasper laughed as he and Selina sat in the common room.

"What?" she asked, smiling as she tried to understand.

"You seriously don't remember when we met?"

She frowned, brows furrowed in thought. "We met in the library, I was with Amana."

"No," he corrected her, "That was the second time we met."

"It was?" she tried to think.

"Yeah, don't you remember? We met on the Quidditch pitch. After your game against Gryffindor," he reminded her. "My friend Ian took pictures of you and Malfoy."

"Yeah! You're right, that was you," she apologized.

"Well, Ian just told me he still had those pictures he took," he explained, "So I went ahead and got them from him. Here," he handed her something from the pocket of his robes.

Selina took the pictures, looking at them excitedly.

"Wow. I completely forgot about these," she murmured, holding the moving pictures in her hands. "Oh my God. They're beautiful."

She looked down at the various photos of her and Malfoy on the pitch during their first game they'd ever played together on the Slytherin team. Some of the photos he had were of her and Draco flying on their brooms across the pitch, powerful action shots taken mid-game. Selina looked at the photos, seeing evidence of her own determination and prowess on the field, as well as Draco's, right in front of her. They really were beautiful pictures, she thought, seeing the focus in the expressions on her face as she flew, and the anger in Draco's. Some of the pictures Jasper had been given by his friend Ian Murray were of Selina and Draco, as well as their other teammates, after the game. Although they hadn't won that match against Gryffindor, the Slytherin team still had plenty of energy to get out after it had concluded. Flint could be seen rallying the team in anger as they all yelled and shouted violently, agreeing that they should have won. Selina and Draco could be seen somewhere on the outside of the circle formed by the team, hollering furiously at their loss. After that, there were also other pictures that had been taken of Selina and Draco only. In the first picture she'd found, she was consoling and angry Draco, speaking to him calmly as he buried his face in his hands out of anger.

Moments later, however, Selina had succeeded in making him laugh against his will, which was also captured in one of the moving photos Ian had taken. She also saw pictures of her and Draco laughing in conversation with one another, finally posing for photos with Draco's arm around her as they both smiled and laughed cheerfully. There were also a couple of pictures of her and Draco, each of them standing alone, posing as if they were Quidditch stars.

"Thank you, so much, for these," she smiled, gratefully taking the photos from him. "They're amazing.

"Of course," Jasper nodded, watching with satisfaction as she kept them.

"Draco's going to love these," she laughed. "I'll give the other ones to the team. I think they'd really appreciate it."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, holding one of the individual photos of her, "They would. You know, I think this one's the best," he handed it to her.

She took it curiously, looking down at the picture of herself, standing alone on the pitch, proudly holding up her broom as she held her head up high, her hair half up as usual, flying in the wind behind her.

"You're right. It's amazing," she agreed. "Thank Ian for me again, will you? He's really good."

Jasper Carroll nodded. "He singled out this one to me, too. He thought you looked beautiful, and he's gay."

"That's even better, then," Selina grinned. "You know, even though we lost that match, it's still one of the most fun things I've ever done."

"You played a good game," he reasoned. "You scored two goals, out of six. That's unheard of for a second-year. Well, a second-year playing in a game at all is practically unheard of."

She smiled sincerely. "Playing that first and only game last year... It felt great. I felt really accomplished, even if we didn't win."

"Believe me, the way you play, every game might as well be a win," he insisted. "You're a Chaser, and a damn good one. Just because the Seeker couldn't catch the Snitch doesn't mean you didn't deserve to win the game."

She didn't seem emboldened by what he'd said. "Draco's a good player. And I'm not perfect," she said.

"Well, of course not," he responded.

"Everyone has their weaknesses," she continued. "I can be too aggressive. And I can over-complicate things as the game goes on."

Jasper Carroll thought to himself for a while, analyzing his friend's performance on the field. "You know what your weakness is?" he said after a moment of reflection.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's Malfoy," Jasper responded candidly. "You two play well together; you're unstoppable on the same team, but you always get distracted covering for each other."

Selina thought about it for a moment, nodding as she agreed with his observation.

"Malfoy always ends up interfering with Bludgers and the other team's Chasers when he should be going after the Snitch, and you always end up doing the same trying to make it easier for him to get the Snitch," he stated.

"Yeah," she agreed, "Sometimes I try to stick to my own stuff, but...I think we end up playing better that way."

"Perhaps," Jasper nodded. "Maybe."

*****

Selina had left some of the photos Jasper had given her from her first Quidditch game, hanging up the photos of her and of her and Draco and the team in her dorm. She had given a few of them to Draco the next day when she met him in his dorm before they left for the school trip to Hogsmeade. Draco had received the photos happily, reminiscing about their second year at Hogwarts as he looked at them.

"Bloody hell! Look at us," he grinned, showing her the pictures. "Couple of studs."

She chuckled as he hung the pictures she'd given him, his own smiling photo naturally hanging just above the ones of the two of them and the rest of the Slytherin team from last year. Looking at the photos of the two of them standing together, Selina couldn't help but think of how good they both looked, happy and smiling together. In the picture, the two of them stood together, Draco posing with his arm around Selina in a friendly manner. In the photo, he could be seen wrapping his arm around her and leaning towards her, his face right next to hers. Selina smiled for the camera, watching as he turned towards her, smiling right at her. She eventually turned to face him, the two of them laughing together as Ian took the picture with his magical camera. The picture was such a happy memory to her, the two of them just finishing their first Quidditch match as a Chaser and Seeker on the Slytherin team at only twelve years old, cheerful even if they hadn't actually won. As angry and cross as she got with Draco Malfoy when he annoyed her, Selina knew that she liked his smile, not his boastful and domineering sneer, but his genuinely happy smile when it made an appearance. As irritating and loathsome as Draco could be, there were certainly plenty of times in which she had no doubt about their genuine friendship.

She then followed him out of the dungeons, out to the school grounds where Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for them. Selina watched, unamused as usual, as Draco and the other boys carelessly threw snowballs at the two first years making their way through the courtyard. Draco seemed to be having the time of his life, making it a competition between him, Crabbe, and Goyle to see who could land the most hits. Laughing joyfully as he watched one of the small boys trip and fall on his face in the snow, Draco fell backward, leaning onto Goyle and Selina as she just shook her head and pushed him back.

"Come on, you little runt! Dodge this one!" Goyle laughed as he kept throwing snowballs.

Malfoy laughed along with him as he watched his friends make fools of themselves picking on eleven year-olds. Selina just frowned as she waited impatiently.

"Can we go to Hogsmeade now?" she complained as they lagged behind. "I want a Butterbeer!"

"Yes, yes, we can go," Draco scoffed, reaching into his coat pocket. "Damn it, I've forgotten my wand!"

Crabbe and Goyle both followed him automatically as he turned to face Selina, who still hadn't moved.

"Are you coming with me?" he questioned.

"You can go by yourselves," she assured him with a mocking nod of encouragement.

He muttered to himself, complaining angrily as he and the other two headed back to the Slytherin dorms. Bored, Selina glanced over at the two little first years. One of the boys was worriedly helping his friend up. She noticed that the boy who'd fallen down on his face in the snow after trying to run from Draco and the others had a rather nasty cut on his face, which was bleeding and already seemed bruised. The first year boy, Selina noticed, had fallen on stone and was hurt. She watched the other boy trying to help him up, stepping towards them as they looked over at her, nervous that she'd be as cruel as the boys, but still needing help.

"Hey! Hey, I think his ankle's twisted. Can you help him?" one of the boys asked. "Please?"

"Yeah," she nodded, observing their helplessness. "Learn to defend yourself."

Not understanding her version of helping, the two small children looked up at her, begging her to help as she sighed, reluctantly using magic to help.

Selina pointed her wand at the injured boy's ankle. "Alright, alright... Brackium Emendo," she spoke confidently, ignoring the painful grunts that follows as she then shifting her attention to the scrape on his face. "Episkey."

Both of the boy's injuries seemed to heal relatively well as she stood and left them outside, heading back in the direction of the Slytherin dormitories. She watched them running away in fear, fascinated by their trust in her that had been born solely out of vulnerability. She found herself lost in thought, looking out at nothing as she hardly noticed her friends returning outside before their trip to Hogsmeade Village.

"Hey. You ready?" Blaise Zabini unknowingly interrupted her thoughts.

She nodded, joining them all as they made their way to where everyone else would soon be gathering for their departure from Hogwarts.

"I thought Parkinson was supposed to be coming with us," Selina remarked, not much disappointment in her tone.

Blaise gave her a curious look. "She's come down with a cold," he replied smugly. "Why? You miss her?"

"Hardly," she scoffed, as Blaise patted her on the back as they walked together.

After the carriage ride to Hogsmeade, the five of them first decided to venture to Honeyduke's Sweet Shop, where they browsed all the different candies and other treats with some of their classmates. Crabbe and Goyle immediately stuffed their coats and pants with hidden sweets, only paying for a couple of things at the counter. Selina and Blaise's only response to the situation was to tell them both to stuff a few extra lollipops into their pockets for them. Draco had also stocked up on candy to get him through the next couple of weeks, specifically remembering to buy a couple of packages of dark chocolate raspberry truffles.

"These are my mother's favorite," he said as he paid for everything he'd bought. "I'm sending them to her for Christmas."

"I'm sure she'll be happy," she said as they left the store behind Crabbe and Goyle, waiting outside for Blaise.

"Yeah," Draco muttered, "You'd think."

Blaise Zabini joined them outside, holding a small bag of various sweets he'd bought.

"I got those fruit things for my mother and her husband," Blaise added.

"Oh, which one is she on again? Her eleventh?" Draco Malfoy laughed as his friend attacked him with the bag.

Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini all entertained themselves as Draco pulled a red lollipop from his bag, smiling as he held it up. He signaled for Selina to take it. She chuckled as she accepted the gift, unwrapping it and eating it.

"Strawberry," she said pleasantly.

"Strawberry," he agreed, watching with satisfaction as she enjoyed it.

Goyle turned to them as they all stood out in the snow together. "Let's go to Zonko's!"

"Yeah," Blaise called to Draco, "I heard they got in some new shipments.

"No, I'm hungry," Malfoy complained, "I wanna go to The Three Broomsticks already!"

"Come on!" Goyle whined. "Let's just go to Zonko's!"

"I'm thirsty!" Draco protested.

"Fine, we're all going on to Zonko's, then!" Crabbe declared impatiently.

"Fine, then! Me and Sel can finally drink in peace," Draco exclaimed, shaking his head as they all raced off to the joke shop.

He and Selina walked off to the pub together, eager to get out of the cold. They walked in together, waving 'hello' to Madam Rosmerta, claiming a small booth off to the side as their own.

"Anything I can get you?" a tall young man asked, addressing Selina specifically.

Draco scowled at him as she ordered.

"Two Butterbeers, thank you," she looked up at him respectfully.

"Coming right up," he nodded, smiling at her as he backed away slowly.

Selina turned to Draco, not caring at all about anyone else in the room.

"I hate going places with you," he remarked bluntly.

"How so?" she asked him.

Draco sighed, looking down as he rested his hands on the table. "Seems like everywhere we go, someone's got to make a pass at you," he stated in a bored tone.

"Here you go," the waiter interrupted, setting the two Butterbeers down on their table. "On the house," he looked right at Selina.

"Thanks," she nodded with a smile as he left.

She turned back to her friend, sipping her warm Butterbeer.

"I don't see you complaining anymore," she pointed out.

He waved her off dismissively, happily drinking his as he savored the warmth of the drink.

"Whatever. It's annoying," he maintained.

"I'm not exactly disagreeing with you," she nodded.

She watched him as he drank, looking far away for a moment, even as she sat right beside him.

"What's wrong?" she asked considerately.

He heaved a long sigh, looking at nothing as he answered. "It's all that stuff with my father. He was mad at me for trying to get him to leave Hagrid's stupid bird alone, then he got annoyed at me for making the game against Ravenclaw such a close game."

"But... we won that game," she argued.

"Doesn't matter. Apparently, one-fifty to one-forty is still too close of a match," Draco Malfoy said bitterly.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"Don't be," he scoffed.

"But, he still won't let the Buckbeak thing go? It's been months," she reasoned.

"He refuses. Says that thing needs to die," Draco sighed in defeat. "I don't know why it's so important to him."

"Yeah, that's weird," she agreed, thinking about it as she spoke with him.

"You know, people really hate me," he remarked spitefully, "But that's just because they don't live with him."

Selina nodded understandingly, taking his hand in hers as she gave it a comforting squeeze, earning a slight smile from him.

"Is it just me, or do these Butterbeers taste even better without those noisy sods around?" she joked as she happily sipped her drink.

"It's not just you," Draco assured her, glancing at her from the side. "God, I'm cold. Bloody hell," he shivered irritably.

"I told you you should've worn an extra layer," Selina reminded him. "It's literally freezing, you know."

Draco chuckled at her as he drank, laughing for a short while.

"What? What's so funny?" she asked him.

"Nothing, it's just... Pansy tries to nag me whenever she's around, kind of like my mother or something, you know? I hate it. But then you go and do the same thing, and I hardly mind," he reminisced humorously.

"Really? You 'hardly mind'?" she asked teasingly.

"You know what I mean," he shook his head at her, "I like it. Kind of."

"Really? I thought it was one of the things you hated about me," she reminisced fondly.

"Really? What would make you think that?" Draco laughed at her, knowing the answer as she shoved him playfully.

"Well, I do hope I don't nag you too often," Selina remarked thoughtfully.

"No. You don't," Draco replied softly, looking her in the eyes for a moment. "I might act like you do from time to time, but... you don't."

"Oh, just from time to time, now?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, hardly," Malfoy laughed, unable to keep a straight face at all.

The two of them laughed for a while, as if they'd long since forgotten what was actually funny, and just laughed to laugh.

"You know, I really am bloody cold," he complained, zipping up his sweater underneath his coat.

"Oh, you poor thing," Selina mocked, earning a light poke in the side from Draco. "Ow! Little git!" she snapped, flicking his ear.

"Hey!" he complained.

"Don't start what you can't finish Malfoy," she fired back.

"Not fair, I didn't hit you half as hard!"

"That's what you get," she shrugged.

"Will you just warm me up? I'm fucking cold!" he cried.

Selina rolled her eyes. "Draco, it's very warm in here," she stated. "I'm sure you'll be fine."

"No, I won't! I'll be missing half my toes by the time we leave," he persisted.

"What do you want, then?" she asked.

"Come here, you stubborn twat," he muttered, snaking his arm around her as he took the glove off of his hand and put his bare hand in both of hers to warm.

"That's lovely, Draco," she muttered, more at him than to him.

She sighed aloud, holding his hand in hers. This wasn't necessarily the first time Draco had, for some reason, held her responsible for raising his body temperature. It was a strangely comfortable thing for him to do, the kind of thing he would have only done with family, or something like that. In many ways, Selina and Draco were like family to one another, except without causing each other any trauma, at least for the most part.

"Fucking hell! Your hands are so cold!" he screamed.

"So are yours!" she pointed out defensively. "That's why I'm rubbing them together," she said simplistically.

Draco Malfoy huffed impatiently as they sat close to one another in the booth, enjoying the warm pub. Selina was still looking down at both of their hands, warming the both of them up so as to keep herself entertained. She took a long sip of her Butterbeer, enjoying the cold and refreshing drink even despite the harsh winter weather. She continued to use her hands to warm Draco's, as he flinched from the coldness of her hand after she had held her drink. But still, he held hand in his, squeezing it as he looked at their hands absentmindedly.

"You shouldn't have gone out with Montague," he said seemingly out of nowhere.

Selina raised an eyebrow at him, not understanding. "...Why?"

Draco didn't say anything. He felt this should've been something that was beneath him.

"Is everyone on the team talking about us?" she asked, making a reasonable assumption considering the Slytherins' tendency to spread gossip.

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "They're saying they think you two are gonna be a couple. Everyone thinks you and Montague are crazy about each other, that you have insane chemistry out on the pitch..." he recalled, a sense of regret in his tone.

"And that's a bad thing?" she questioned, not understanding the emotions on his face.

"Yes," Draco Malfoy responded, locking eyes with her.

"Why?" she said again.

He was close to giving up on the conversation, abandoning his stance entirely. Draco didn't know how to talk to her. He had no idea what to say to her. He didn't know what she'd respond to, or what would earn him her favor. He never knew when it came to Selina Romanov.

"What don't you like about Montague?" she asked him. "I thought you two were friends."

"It's not that I don't like him," he expressed cryptically. "It's just... he just wouldn't be good for you."

"How isn't he good for me?" she inquired impatiently.

He sat there uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck as she eyed him suspiciously.

"Do you know something about him that I don't?" she surmised. "Has he been saying things about me behind my back?"

"No," he answered laconically, not providing any insight whatsoever.

"I don't understand, then," she said in defeat, "What's your problem with me and Montague? I thought you liked him—"

Draco could no longer contain his thoughts, and blurted out before he could catch himself and think, "Everyone thinks you're a slag!" he revealed the source of his anguish.

Selina couldn't exactly name the feeling that she initially reacted with after he'd said that, nor could she identify any of the individual feelings that she was having in that moment. She was embarrassed, to say the very least, being screamed at in this manner in a pub full of people, who were all staring in horror at this point. The single moment of humiliation was nothing if not feminine in nature, the kind of indignity that only comes with girlhood.

"What did you just say to me?" she said softly, holding back the anger in her tone.

Draco sighed at himself, immediately regretting what he'd said to her. Why he'd gone and willingly said such a thing to his friend in those exact words, out loud, he didn't understand.

"Wait, I'm so sorry, Sel, I didn't mean for it to come out like that," he apologized adamantly, "I shouldn't have—"

"Everyone thinks I'm a slag?" she hissed, causing him to back away from her.

"No," he said slowly, "Not everyone... Come on, Sel, that's not what I—"

"But that's what you said, you can't take something like that back, clearly you were thinking it," she reasoned. "Have people not been calling me a slag?"

"Well..." he started. "It's just that, people have just been noticing—"

"'People'?" she exclaimed. "Does 'people' include you?" she asked him, enraged by what she was being subjected to by her friend.

It was one thing to be told about rumors that had been circulating about the rest of the school, which was inevitable, but it was an added insult to be subjected to a reasonable explanation for them. Not only was Selina somewhat blindsided by the betrayal of quite a few of her classmates, but she was insulted by Draco's pathetic male defense of the baseless rumors going around.

"Sel..." he failed to come up with a sufficient answer to her question, which only angered her more as she tried to decipher his demeanor.

"What, do you think I'm a slag, too?!"

"No, you idiot!"

All of the other patrons in The Three Broomsticks, including the few other Hogwarts students that had been having drinks there, turned to look at the two of them as they began to cause a scene. Draco realized the egregious mistake he'd made, shutting his eyes tight as he cursed himself. Many of the other people in the room, specifically the women, all regarded him with absolute disgust at what they'd heard as all of the men in the room turned away awkwardly, appalled.

"No!" he hissed, trying to calm her as everyone in the room began to hate him more and more. "Listen—!"

"What have people been saying about me, Draco?!" she interrogated him, a fierce look in her eyes.

He never would've admitted to anyone, but Draco was afraid of Selina. He was afraid of that darkness behind her bluish grey eyes whenever she was angry, or determined, or focused, and he was afraid of the lengths that he knew she would go to to get what she wanted, and the genuine ambiguity she had when it came to the ideas of good and evil. She had far more intensity and far more follow-through than he was comfortable seeing in a person. But while her rage was terrifying on its own, another thing about her that he found was also deeply disturbing was the dark nature of her pain. After all, the girl had witnessed her own father violently murdering her mother at the tender age of six years old, which was young enough to affect her indelibly, but just old enough for her to remember and understand every detail of the traumatic affair. The way Selina's mind operated was vastly different from his own, and Draco was troubled the most by how little he really knew about it.

"It doesn't matter," he hoped to convince her, "No one whose opinion's worth a damn has said anything. They all know you," he added.

"Who the hell's been talking about me, Draco?" she growled. "Just tell me! This is already humiliating enough! Is it anyone on the team?" her voice became dangerously low.

He grimaced regretfully, trying to minimize the damage he did even if it was far too late. "It's just stupid gossip, you know, you really shouldn't care anything about it..."

"Don't tell me what I should and shouldn't care about, just tell me what people have been saying about me behind my back!" she commanded, angrily pointing her wand at him.

"Okay, okay, fine!" he nodded quickly as he lowered her wand with his hand as others in the pub watched them, "It's mostly Pansy's doing. That's why I didn't feel like I had to tell you, you know how she gets. Some people are just going around calling you a slag, saying a bunch of shit about you with Jasper, Montague, Goyle, or... me. Some of it started spreading to the team, but it's just fucking school gossip," he muttered with hatred in his tone.

"So, you're saying some of the people we play on a team with, people I've thought were kind of like my friends, were calling me a slag and you never told me about it?!" Selina snapped.

This consequently garnered even more unwanted attention for Draco Malfoy throughout the room.

"Look, Sel, I never knew how to tell you about it, but I knew you had an idea of what Pansy's said, and who she's said it to. I figured that was enough," he told her with a distaste for the drama. "But for what it's worth, I always defended you, even to her."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really? You did?"

Usually, when jokes of any nature were made about Selina amongst their friends, or the people they knew, Draco never really had much to say about it. This was mostly because he always felt that Selina was more than capable of defending herself, just like any of his other friends. She was more than independent, and could stand her own ground amongst the likes of Crabbe and Goyle with ease. Selina was perfectly able to defend herself, whether it was verbally, physically, or using magic. It was the reason Draco had first approached her their first year at Hogwarts after she was sorted into Slytherin. He knew that she was someone he wanted on his team, someone he wanted to defend him if need be.

"Bloody hell, of course I did, I never let them spread those fucking lies about you, not as long as I was around," Draco vowed. "You think I would just let people trash your name like you're no one? You're Selina Romanov, you're better than all of them!"

Knowing that he was right, Selina sighed heavily. She looked up to meet his cool gaze, seeing true sincerity in his eyes for the first time throughout the entire conversation. Shaking her head in disappointment, Selina muttered under her breath about how much she hated Pansy, gossip, and the Slytherin Quidditch team. As angry as she was at everything, despite all of the anger she felt, she could hardly direct any of it at Draco. She was annoyed at him, sure, but she knew that being angry at him wouldn't solve any of her real problems.

"I would never say the kinds of things Pansy says about you. You have to believe me," he implored.

"I do," she sighed, looking at him as her eyes no longer burned with hatred. "And I know you would only talk bad about me to my face. So, thank you," she concluded, looking to him for a mutual agreement of peace.

Selina was angry, more than angry if anything, but she also knew that sometimes revenge required more of a delicate touch than a firm hand. But even though she couldn't deny herself the vindictive payback, she also couldn't ignore the strange pit in her chest that was beginning to sink down to her stomach.

"Hey. What's wrong?" Draco asked her sign concern, his hand resting on the back of her head as if he tried to examine her for a physical wound.

"I'm sorry. It's just..." she swallowed a lump in her throat, struggling to speak. "It's like... It's like..."

She began choking on her words, feeling herself starting to cry against her own will like a child who'd just been hurt.

"What? What is it?" he asked, fumbling around for the napkin underneath his drink as he handed it to her thoughtfully.

She shook her head and refused the napkin as he carefully set it down in front of her on her lap.

"It's just like what happened with McLaggen all over again."

A fiery wrath that Draco himself barely understood filled his eyes as he frustratedly pulled her into a hug, not sure of how else to alleviate the pain.

"Fuck McLaggen. He's a foul git," he spat with contempt.

"But... he was twelve," she thought out loud. "You know?"

Draco refused to even consider that perspective.

"Yeah. I know. So were you," he said furiously, pulling away. "What McLaggen did... I'm still surprised they didn't do more. Are you sure you don't want my father to take it up with the school? Even to this day, he says the offer still stands."

Little did either of them know, this also wouldn't be the last time they would have this conversation.

"It's fine," Selina wiped her tears hastily. "I'm fine."

"Okay," he agreed uneasily, hating the pain that he could see her trying to conceal behind her eyes. "Okay..."

*****

Selina, Elspeth, and Amana all sat with Jasper in his dorm room, all engaged in various activities as they sprawled themselves out over his bed. Selina and Jasper engaged themselves in a game of wizard's chess as Elspeth put her hair in rollers before bed as Amana casually completed her nightly beauty routine, creams and serums scattered all over Jasper's bed. Because of Selina and her friends, he had simply accepted that his space was also a space for the girls.

"Ha! Checkmate," Jasper Carroll grinned as his pieces conquered Selina's. "You owe me a Butterbeer next time."

"Fine by me, you still owe me an ice cream from Florean's after that bet about Crabbe's bowel movements," she replied agreeably as she pet her cat Freya.

"I don't even want to know," Elspeth shook her head as she applied her rollers.

Amana messily threw everything into her bag, not even having to ask as she took Selina's face into her hands.

"I wish you'd let me do your makeup," she said with a sad sigh. "You could totally pull off the gold tones."

"Yeah, but that's your thing," Selina reminded her, "I don't think anyone would be able to concentrate if there were two of you. I know I can hardly pull myself together with one of you walking around."

Amana smiled as she studied her friend's features. "You're right about that. God, we're perfect."

"You know, it's crazy how many boys in my year I've overheard talking about you three," he shook his head. "I mean, I know fourth-year and third-year isn't bad, but still. I've never heard of anyone so popular!"

If Jasper was right about one thing, it was the reputation Selina, Amana, and Elspeth had garnered quickly within their third year at Hogwarts as being, for the most part, 'newly pretty'. Many of the older boys at the school, including sixth and seventh-years, could be heard commenting on how each of the girls had 'grown up' over the summer, which Jasper had found indescribably revolting. Of course, each of the girls suffered in their own way for their beauty. Elspeth Laurier's parents were both from France. She was the first girl in her family not to attend the Beauxbatons Academy, which was full of many other beautiful young French girls. Although both of her parents were incredibly attractive people, Elspeth was the spitting image of her mother, Chloé Laurier, who was famously beautiful, with her perfect porcelain skin, long honey blonde locks, and sweet brown doe eyes. Amana Tesfaye was just as striking, having inherited her mother's hazel eyes and her father's deep complexion. She had tight black curls that she always wore down, with creamy dark skin that always seemed flawless. Selina was as striking as her friends, with her long, ebony hair, stone blue eyes, and olive skin complimented by Russian-Bulgarian features from her father, and Brazilian features from her mother. People stopped and stared wherever Selina and her friend went, seemingly hypnotized by them.

"What's even more crazy is how many seventh-years I've heard talking about us and looking at us when we're not paying attention," Elspeth chimed in.

"Bloody disgusting," he spat.

"Not as disgusting as what Parkinson's been saying about me," Selina recalled. "I swear, she acts like I've been with the entire school!"

"Ugh! She's so dramatic," Elspeth scoffed.

"She's just a crazy, jealous bitch," Amana sighed, "Everyone sees it but her. Don't worry. You're not the one they really talk about."

"I feel bad for her sometimes," Selina remarked, "I mean... it must be debilitating to be so crazy."

"You'd know all about that wouldn't you?" Amana grinned as they all laughed and joked until eventually going to bed.

The next morning at breakfast, Jasper sat at the table beside Selina as she ate with Draco and the others. He sat on her other side, next to Blaise, with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy sitting across from them. Owls delivered mail, letters, parcels, and newspapers being dropped all over the tables. Draco's large owl, Ares, plopped an envelope in front of him. Opening the envelope, he was surprised to find that there were two different letters that had been left in front of him, one of which was addressed to Selina.

"Oh. My mum's sent you a letter," he announced, handing the envelope over to her.

"Really?" she asked, taking the envelope clearly marked 'Selina Romanov' in perfect calligraphy. "That's so nice of her."

Draco gave her a pleasant smile as he opened his own letter from his parents, not privy to Pansy's envious glare in Selina's direction. The envelope that had been delivered to her by the owl was made of elegant parchment, sealed by an attractive black seal with the Malfoy family crest stamped on it. Selina happily opened the letter to read it, pleasantly surprised to receive something from someone other than her grandmother.

Dear Selina,

Lucius and I are hoping you're well. Draco tells me you both are faring well so far at Hogwarts this year. Of course, we both have heard about your success in making the Slytherin House Quidditch team once again, and we are overjoyed for the both of you. I do hope you won't find it strange as you may not be our child, but Lucius and I are so proud of you, just was we are Draco. Our son has told us about your first game this year against Ravenclaw, and we're both very happy for you. Lucius tells me you aspire to play Quidditch professionally after Hogwarts, and I can't tell you how apt of a career choice I'm sure that'll be for you. That being said, I'm not sure if Draco's told you that we've been meaning to write to you. I hope you won't think it to peculiar or short notice, but our family would be happy to have you join us for the holidays. We've already written to your grandmother, Dominique, who is a lovely woman, I might add. She says you're more than welcome to stay with us for the holidays if you'd like. I just know Draco would be thrilled if you could. If you'd like to, you can go ahead and let Draco know, or send an owl yourself if you'd prefer. Lucius and I hope you can make it, but we won't be offended in the slightest if you can't, or if you'd like to stay with your grandmother for the holidays.

Warmest Regards,

Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy

Selina looked over at Draco as she set down the envelope, surprised at the contents of the letter.

"Draco, you never told me your mum asked about the holidays," she spoke up.

"Yeah, I must've forgot," he admitted. "You'll come, though, yeah?" he asked her, as Pansy and Daphne Greengrass struggled to eavesdrop on them.

"Do you want me to?" she asked cautiously.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked shortly, hungrily devouring his breakfast.

"Well, I don't know, just checking," she scoffed. "...Tell her 'yes' and 'thank you' for me, if you could. I'll write to her after I write to my grandmother to let her know."

"You don't want to see your grandmother for the holidays?" he asked worriedly.

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "The best present she could get for me is the one I get from her will."

"Yeah, fair enough," he nodded in agreement.

"Christmas at Hogwarts would be far more Christmas-y than a Christmas at home. As far as I'm concerned, I could live here, and be fine."

"Do you think anyone's ever said 'Christmas' more in one sentence?" Draco wondered.

"Yeah, try saying that ten times fast," she sighed, drinking her cold tea as she ate.

She glanced over at Pansy, who, as it turns out, had been staring daggers at her the entire time. Selina walked with Blaise to the dungeons for Potions, as he vented to her about his mother and her habit of marrying rich men who typically ended up mysteriously dead after a while. As far as she was concerned, Mrs. Zabini was her hero.

"She's insane," Blaise muttered to her. "I almost don't want to go home for Christmas."

"I can see why," his friend remarked.

"The only thing I've got from her worth having is her looks," he pondered wistfully.

Truthfully, Blaise Zabini was the sort of person who didn't like to make friends. Although he would occasionally be seen with or near Draco and Selina's group, he hardly interacted with anyone. There were plenty of people Blaise didn't like, and none of them were too fond of him. Blaise held all of his friends at a high standard, only allowing himself to be seen with those who he deemed worthy of his company, which was why he usually only spoke to Draco, Selina, and Pansy, who he viewed as being more so guarded by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle than anything else. Blaise Zabini was comfortable being seen with Selina, Draco, or Pansy simply because they had status, even at Hogwarts. All of them came from Pureblood families and were very popular especially among those in their year. Not to mention, they were considered to be attractive, or at least Selina and Draco definitely were. Blaise didn't like to surround himself with ugly people, so he was usually alone, considering that, because he'd inherited his mother's good looks and charm, most people seemed ugly to him, or average, at best. Draco Malfoy and Selina Romanov were, without a doubt, the talk of Slytherin house, as well as the school. It seemed just about everyone Blaise could think of had a schoolyard crush on at least one of them.

Blaise also felt that more people should have had a crush on him. He had eventually concluded, however, that the only reason they didn't was because he didn't like to interact with the others much. The thing was, Blaise loved to feel wanted and respected, even if it was just a shallow attraction. He loved being told that he was handsome. His mother, of course, spent almost as much time commending his looks as she did her own. Blaise loved the validation of being complimented, and even more so the validation of knowing someone found him to be attractive, so much that he hardly cared which gender it was. He was proud to be a beautiful person, even more so than he was proud to be surrounded by beautiful and powerful people, like Draco who was handsome and rich, or Selina, who was wealthy and looked like a young model. They were the values instilled in him by his mother herself. As far as Mrs. Zabini was concerned, beauty was power.

"Look at Millicent Bulstrode," Blaise whispered as he and Selina took their seats in potions in front of Draco and Pansy. "Doesn't she look like a sack of flour?"

Selina snorted with laughter as they prepared their potion ingredients for that day's lesson, looking down upon all of their classmates together.

"Right?" Pansy leaned forward. "Honestly, I think she'd look better if we went ahead and emptied one out and threw it over her head."

"That's so mean," Neville Longbottom murmured as he passed.

"Oh yeah, Longbottom?" Pansy Parkinson sneered.

She reached over Draco, tipping over all of the items he'd been holding in his arms. One of the ceramic bowls he'd been holding fell to the ground and shattered, spilling all over the aisle as Professor Snape scowled angrily.

"Oh, no, the bowl...!" Neville cried as he knelt to the ground to pick it up.

"What happened? Your grandmother use that one to cut your hair?" Selina mumbled, earning a high-five from Blaise, and scattered laughs all over from Slytherins and Gryffindors alike, particularly Seamus Finnigan, who continued to tease him relentlessly.

It seemed she had not been as quiet as she'd aimed for.

"Hey...!" Neville complained.

She turned back, not realizing he had heard her.

"Oops. Sorry, Nev!" she grimaced, hoping he wouldn't take it personally.

"Why apologize to that fat lump? That was hilarious," Pansy stated, earning a surprised, albeit suspicious look from Selina.

"Five points to Slytherin," Severus Snape cut in, earning strange looks from the class.

Selina raised an eyebrow in response, as Blaise and the others all chuckled.

"For... helping a classmate, Miss Romanov," the tall, raven-haired man replied coolly, walking away.

"Nice one, Sel," Draco nodded to her appreciatively as Pansy couldn't help but join in on the laughter.

Selina had almost forgotten that there were times when she and Pansy actually thought alike. Feeling even more ashamed of herself after that realization, Selina turned away from Pansy, who was also embarrassed of herself for getting along with Selina Romanov, of all people. Selina sighed, feeling bad for Neville as she picked up the last few ceramic shards off the floor, handing them to him with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry," she said in a more serious tone, "Just meant it as a joke..."

"It's okay," the timid boy nodded meekly, surprisingly smiling back, however awkwardly, "I appreciate it."

Selina smiled, surprised that she hadn't gone too far. She loved hating people and using her wits against them verbally or otherwise, but she knew that it was always more rewarding when it was against someone who genuinely deserved it. Making victims out of first-years and spineless weaklings like Neville Longbottom, as genuinely sweet as he was, didn't usually interest her much.

"You're too nice, you know," Blaise remarked.

"Why?" she questioned. "Because I'm not a complete arsehole to everyone?" she guessed.

He smiled as they began brewing their potion. "Yes. You're pretty enough to be mean, you know. It's probable; the prettier you are, the meaner you get to be. Hell. You're pretty enough to get away with murder."

"Then, I'll save it for a rainy day," she decided. "Maybe for your mother, and my grandmother."

"Hmm. Are you sure we're not related?" he eyed her jokingly.

"Mmm," Selina thought, pointedly comparing their complexions as a joke, "Pretty sure."

"Pity. My mother would've loved to have a daughter like you," he said. "I told her we were friends once. She said she wanted to meet you. She knew your mother, apparently."

"Really? She did?" Selina asked. "How did I not know this?"

He shrugged. "Don't know. She remembers her, though, from Hogwarts. Says they were friends."

"Oh. Wow," Selina trailed off in thought.

"You should come over some time," Blaise suggested, "Let my mother play dress up with you. She'd love that."

"I might have to," she nodded with a grin.

"My mother has a lot of jewelry she hates, from her last husband," Blaise confided in her. "Says it brings back memories. She'd probably give some of it to you if you did. That's what she does every time my cousins come over."

"Ooh, I love things that used to belong to dead people," she admitted, "There are a few antique shops in Diagon Alley. I love going there after the holidays, when everyone tries to be charitable and give away their dead grandparents' stuff. Vintage."

"Oh, yeah, I've been there. We should go. My mother loves shopping," he expressed. "I don't think she's got much else to do. Say, you should come over this Christmas."

"I would, but I'm gonna be spending the holidays at Draco's," Selina told him.

"Oh, yeah," her friend snickered, discreetly looking behind them for Pansy's reaction. "Careful, though. If you get his mother's ring, you can't wear it when you scrub Pansy off of the walls."

*****

Jasper Carroll had attended that day's Quidditch practice for the Slytherin team, watching his friend, Selina Romanov, play. He occasionally came to practices with Selina, not having much else to do after classes were finished. Also watching the practice from the stands was Pansy Parkinson, watching Draco Malfoy practice, along with Blaise Zabini who kept her company. Jasper had spent the past ten to fifteen minutes sitting in the stands reading his book, sometimes staring over at Pansy, who would be known to make a fool of herself, cheering and screaming for Draco, even if it was just a routine practice. Jasper had also noticed another spectator in the stands for the team's practice. It seemed that, for some reason, Professor Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin house, decided to come out and observe his house's team in action. Professor Snape sat a bit too close for Jasper's comfort, sitting only a few rows above him, not too far off to his left. Jasper had accidentally made eye contact with Snape, who simply offered him a typical, wordless nod that didn't seem particularly friendly, although it was practically a display of affection from Snape. Looking at him with his longer dark hair and pallid complexion, and in his long, black robes, he felt as though Snape looked out of place anywhere but in the dungeons. Furthermore, the more he looked at him, the more Jasper thought the Potions master looked something like what he would have expected a real vampire to look like.

"Everyone take five more laps! Except you, Romanov! Go fetch the kit!" Marcus Flint barked.

Selina muttered a curse as she forcibly flew down to the ground, jumping off of her broomstick. She left to go look for the Quidditch supplies as Draco and the rest of the team snickered.

"I don't know what you lot are laughing at! Once one of you proves yourselves, you can be on kit duty!" the Slytherin team captain yelled.

Draco Malfoy rolled his eyes as he and the rest of the team were forced to endure another five laps around the Quidditch pitch on their broomsticks. Although he never would've said anything about it, he resented the way the team respected Selina. Sure, they respected Draco plenty, as both the team's extremely talented Seeker, as well as one of the most wealthy students in the school, whose father's donations also significantly funded the team, as well as the school itself. The other boys on the team definitely respected Draco, but still, it seemed to him that Selina Romanov had some sort of privilege when it came to the team that he didn't. If he didn't know any better, Draco would have assumed that the team simply treated her differently just because she was a girl, which would have made sense. But Draco felt that there had to be more to it, given that the Slytherin team had had other female players both play for the team and try out in the past couple of years without being treated any differently than their male counterparts. However, Draco conceded that none of these girls necessarily looked anything like Selina Romanov did.

"Alright! Everybody gather around for drills!" Flint called as the two Beaters grabbed their bats from the kit, which Selina placed out in the center of the pitch. "I'll be releasing the Bludgers first. Our goal is to dodge them, by any means necessary!"

Selina didn't necessarily find Flint's methods to be effective in a way that was particularly profound, but still, she at times had to allow that he did, in some ways, know how to keep his players sharp. The entire team, captain included, spent a short while simply dodging the agile Bludgers, with Bole and Derrick practicing both simply hitting the Bludgers with their bats, as well as learning to cooperate with their teammates in allowing for as few distractions as possible. Mostly thanks to Selina's coaching and reminders, the Beaters were able to remember the signals to both allow other players to borrow their bats, and to hit the Bludgers and specific directions. Jasper Carroll silently applauded her for this, hoping that Professor Snape observed just as much of her skill and finesse on the pitch as he did. Although she herself never stated it outright, Jasper had personally hoped that she would one day, ideally sooner rather than later, be appointed the captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team. Keeping in mind that this year was to be Marcus Flint's final year both as captain and at Hogwarts, Jasper glanced over at Snape, who seemed to be surveying and assessing his players intently.

Both Jasper and Snape watched the team on the field, singling out both the stronger and weaker players. Unable to decipher the significance of Snape's facial expressions, or lack thereof, Jasper had no idea what the man was thinking. He could only hope that his eyes observed Selina Romanov in a flattering light. The players eventually concluded their short drill, as Flint released the Quaffle.

"Alright, everyone! Quaffle's getting released! Objective is to avoid Bludgers and score points now!"

Marcus Flint joined the rest of the team in the air as the Quaffle soared about. He, Selina, and Montague all took their places as the team's Chasers, aiming to take possession of the Quaffle and score goals. This gradually exclusive training was useful to all of the players, especially the Seeker, in that it forced every member of the team to consider different roles on the pitch. This was something Selina had spent years focusing on as she researched and read books on Quidditch strategy, long before she ever came to Hogwarts. Of course, many of the other players on the team hadn't given this concept of versatility as much thought and consideration as she had. This was evident as the whole team practiced without the Bludgers next, every player on the team being held responsible for scoring goals. Bole and Derrick both came off as atrociously unorganized when it came to organizing themselves and performing maneuvers, emphasizing Lee Jordan's astute observation that Flint always prioritized size and brutality over skill. Jasper discreetly snuck a glance over at Snape, who seemed to also be arriving at the conclusion that Flint's leadership abilities were questionable at best. Why Snape usually chose the more ruthless players over the thoughtful ones, he had no idea.

"You were really good today, I mean, as usual," Jasper told his friend as she joined him up in the stands. "That pass to Flint was clean. You've really been training up."

"Wouldn't have to if Flint would've picked more players who could actually hold their own," she stated.

"Well, you play like a professional on your own," Jasper complimented her. "You should be proud regardless."

Selina received his compliment with a smile, nodding thankfully just as their conversation was interrupted.

"Yes, Miss Romanov, you should be rather proud of your accomplishments on this team," Professor Snape agreed as he looked down at her.

Draco had just appeared behind her, him and Jasper exchanging looks as he addressed her.

"If you should keep it up... I wouldn't be surprised to find you may just be starting a lifelong career here on the Slytherin team," the man hinted quietly, creeping away as he left his students alone.

"See?" Jasper looked at Selina. "You could go pro."

"You should," Draco agreed as they all descended from the stands. "My father has some connections in the league. He'd be willing to write on behalf of either of us, you know," he informed her superciliously.

"Hmm. Not a bad idea, now that I think about it.

"I would play Quidditch after Hogwarts, too, if he'd let me," Draco said. "But I'd probably be better off taking a job at the Ministry."

"You never know, you might actually make a career out of Quidditch. You're definitely good enough to at least try," Jasper suggested politely.

"Hmm. I suppose I am, but I think I could start pretty high up at the Ministry," Draco decided.

He aligned himself with Selina as they all walked side-by-side to the castle before dinner.

"Oh. Almost forgot," Draco turned to Selina nonchalantly, "What do you want for Christmas?"

"Hmm?" she looked at him, not understanding the question or its significance.

"You know. Christmas is coming up," he said impatiently. "My parents need to know what you want for Christmas, and so do I, for that matter. So what do you want?" he asked her impatiently.

"Oh, no one has to get me anything," Selina scoffed.

"No one 'has to' do anything. Now, what do you want?" Draco Malfoy pried insistently.

"I don't know," Selina admitted. "Just... get whatever you'd like," she told him.

"Are you sure?" he asked her, unable to imagine someone not having a specific list of their desires to choose from around the holidays.

"Positive," she stated. "Tell your parents 'thank you'."

"Alright. Have it your way, then, I guess."

A long silence filled the air as Selina thought about the holidays.

"What do you want for Christmas, Draco?" she asked him.

"I don't know, my mum and dad already agreed to get me what I wanted," he thought. "Just get me whatever."

"You don't have anything specific in mind?" she questioned, not believing him.

He shook his head. "Nope. Helpful, isn't it?"

The three of them separated once they'd gotten to the dungeons, with Jasper heading to his own dorm as Draco and Selina both left to take showers to rinse themselves off before dinner. Over the next few days, Selina couldn't help but stress over what to get for the Malfoys for Christmas, since she would be spending it at their manor. She was particularly worried about what she would get Draco for Christmas. She knew that, although Draco didn't seem to care what she got him, he was, in her words, a spoiled brat who would hold every gift given to him at a very high standard. Selina had already written a letter to her grandmother, asking her to send the Malfoys a nice gift for inviting her to stay with them, which she had agreed to, just happy not to have to spend two weeks with her granddaughter. Selina Romanov had also written a letter to Narcissa Malfoy, accepting her invitation and thanking her for everything. In the letter she'd received as a response, Narcissa Malfoy had informed her that she would be allowing Selina and Draco to venture to Diagon Alley together on their first day home on holiday from school, which she had decided would allow her to shop for a present for Draco. Although she had her reservations about spending the holidays with the Malfoys, even if she had stayed with them before over the summers, she still looked forward to Christmas, envying Draco for at least getting to spend time with his parents, however questionable they could be.

#draco x reader #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #hpdm #draco x reader angst #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction

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asterjennifer · 2 years

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hello Jenni! first of all i wanted to thank you for your amazing work, i love your writings and without a doubt you are my favorite writer at the moment, i wish you all the best. 💕 When you have time could you write about a codependent mc on saeran and how would they deal with it? (GE saeran or SE saeran, whichever you prefer!)

🎀 I am your favorite rn..? Woah... That just made me so happy I almost teared up- These couple of words made me so happy! And you know what that reminds me of? His 1 bad ending in the AE! 🎀

Happy Face

Fandom: Mystic Messenger

Pairing: GE Saeran x Reader

Category: Angst

Warnings: Codependency, Spoilers

Word count: 2641

Author's Note: I think codependency's a dangerous concept. It's better to rely on yourself before doing it on another. But what do I know-

Summary: After his party you both take a moment to calm down in the changing room without Rika's supervision.

Neither of you know better. It's for the best that way.

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

With your hands clasped on the edge of the chair, you're letting your irritated eyes wander. As soon as even a small indicator of stress' found in your own facial features, your pulse had long since worsened. Constant anxiety about the only person in your life with deep meanings on the edge of the metaphorical cliff for all eternity. Were the people at the party to be trusted? Did Saeran have the perfect poker face to not let mistakes slip through? Perhaps trained hit men visited the party, hired by his father to end his life once and for all without anyone noticing.

This sick worry plagued you from the second he left your field of vision. Whenever he's required to attend these parties, on one hand you prayed he's at least having somewhat of a good evening. On the other, however, you're counting the milliseconds until he returned safely. For the first time in your life, you could understand Rika's penetrating espionage methods. Not knowing where he was or how he's doing's messing with your sanity. You didn't mean harm when manipulating the plan he and Vanderwood worked on for days, it's the intense fear of losing the love of your life that pushed the buttons in your place.

Once their doing was disabled, leaving Saeyoung to run free, you became aware that it's not going to happen for the younger one carrying bleached hair. The best immunity for his well-being had been teaming up with the enemy. To this day, you're uncertain what else could've been the right choice. Of course, you're not dense to the fact you've taken away the freedom Saeran learned about shortly after fleeing from Mint Eye. He claimed he still loved you, yet there's a hint of pain every time his eyes met yours, it strung heavily in your heart. Naturally, the paranoia only grew further.

Not towards Saeran, he's the last to ruin things behind your back. You're much more concerned over Rika and her lover, both not the most stable people in the world. Whenever one's losing calm, you shielded Saeran however it's necessary. It wasn't a one-off thing when Rika personally attacked you for it, but what else could you do for Saeran? He's all you're having left. And you're no different for him, either. Sometimes, in the depths of your mind, you begged Saeran would start rebelling against everyone and get away as far as he could, for his peace's sake. Nonetheless, he behaved politely with Rika around and never put blame on V.

Once you're alone, that's when emotions, so desperate they're paining, reached the surface. He's doing everything you ask of him, which put the label of the monster on your account. It's not Rika controlling him with drugs, nor V with his thin white lies. He could run from his father's grip easily if only desired. »I do this for you. That's all.« Was what he stated after a particular draining festival amongst the crowd. It came from the bottom of his heart; he meant these words. That's what hurt like hell. You're not happy playing the role of the villain, leave alone pull Saeran's strings unscrupulously.

Yet he's offering them to you like a leash. As if that's the one thing he certaintly wanted. Nothing seemed to matter otherwise, as long as you're beside him and watch, he'll bear every torture. You knew so well, because the feeling's mutual. Perhaps Rika had been right from the start, maybe Saeran's incapable of living for himself. Then again, from a moral point of view you're no better, on the contrary. Those days you had taken on the role of Ray. Although the flower boy's reborn as someone else, Ray's the one owning insecurities and flaws that dragged him into a circle of despair.

As you saw your pale facial expression in the mirror of the changing room, it's almost like you're gazing back at the first impression you've had of him. A dear scared to death. Scared to lose the thing keeping him alive at all, it's understandable why he'd taken such extreme measures when it came to your protection in the past. Today, you're doing the exact same for Saeran. And since that's pushing you into the role of the bad guy, you'd at least liked to take care of his wishes whenever it's possible. Problem about that; he never made a wish for himself. It's all for you, truly nowhere fair to his newfound purpose, but you're powerless.

This was the best way to make sure he's safe and sound, regardless the limitations forced upon you both nonstop. »Since you chose to be trapped here with me.. I'll do what I can.« The rather monotone words echoed through your mind like mantra, words you've heard too often. Way too many times in a row. Making you sick to the stomach whenever you're remembering his frozen eye color shining detached. It wasn't right in any way, you could neither defend your decision nor the uncertain future, but at least you're gifted with the opportunity to protect the former hacker in the here and now.

Are you out of your mind for changing him this way? Was he out of his head for allowing it without any resistance? You're unsure, God knows if you're ever finding a path healthier for your lover. A sigh fell over your lips, pressing the tip of your index finger underneath your left eye. The bags there spoke walls for the sleepless nights spend awake, breaking one possibility after another. What's there to change? He's already so deeply integrated into this false system, as if you're suddenly coming up with this amazing, flawless plan for rescue. No, his life's on the line. Depending on the outcome, it could kill him. And you'll never survive if he's gone.

Grateful to be lonely, you stood up when both hands pressed to the surface of the ridiculously long dressing table. The rush of adrenaline kept your eyes wide open, facing yourself in the mirror until it's impossible to stare into your own eyes. Knowing you're unable to see yourself anymore showed how insufferable you'd become. He's worth the world, worth more freedom than any other human being on the planet. He deserved nothing other than a bright, happy life filled with good memories. But he's stubborn. So, so insistent on loving you forever, it'd frighten every normal person out there.

»I'm back.« The door opened the same moment his voice tore you from the small panic attack suffocating your lungs. Saeran's hair's a bit messy due to the gel. The white-pink suit the cutest sight you've ever witnessed. The straight gaze with which he greeted the guests melted only a little when looking to you instead. Your heart contracted, it forced hot tears to bubble to the corners of your eyes. »Hello, love..« No mentioning of your lost voice, Saeran shrugged the jacket off his shoulder after closing the door. »Did I make you wait?« He watched you shake your head a tad too quickly.

For a second no sound left your mouth, therefore you breathed through first. »No, no! Of course not. Did you have a bit fun?« You took the jacket, smelling the familiar scent of fragrance mixed up with an indescribable sweet smell he'd carried around since day one. Saeran pulled the black rose from his collar, eyes avoiding yours. »No need to worry, things went well.« The worst kind of answer, he always sneaked around giving you enlightenment over his mood. You swallowed the bitter taste slowly numbing your tongue. »Oh... I wasn't worried about your performance; I know you do well.«

No other exchange needed, Saeran pulled the gloves off his hands. Placing them back down at the dressing table and you couldn't help but watch from across the room. Your heart longed for his closure, despite the hurt you put him through. »Hey Saeran...?« His glowing eyes remained steady, regardless how bad the world around burned down, it's almost impressive. »Yes?« You sighed again. »Do.. You still love me, right..?« He's too far away, unreachable even. He immediately turned his head towards you, a frown crawling over his face. »I love you forever.« He promised. Was it a promise?

Your mind started to spin from the doubt consuming your soul. Unconsciously you began to fumble with your fingers, which Saeran certainly noticed. »I– Are you sure? I can't help thinking it might be better if.. if you..« Such heavy feelings stayed stuck in the back of your throat countless times, which led to your frustration growing higher. To imagine him leaving you behind's a nightmare, however, there's no denying it'd be better for him. You walked with wobbly steps, stopping near him at the mirror. »Don't you know it'll be.. much less draining if you just run away..? Why are you staying..«

»You wanted to make sure I'm safe. I return that favor by obliging.« The response coming right away had another wave of guilt crush down carelessly. You shook your head, hair falling over your face. »But.. You're not happy.« You said it, it's the first time you openly admitted what the situation really looked like. Saeran scanned your every inch, a cool hand coming up and cupping your cheek in his usual, sensual manner. »I'm not sure what real happiness is, but I love you. And I'll never stop loving you. And I'll be here.« It burned, you're weak enough to let the sob slip out. Saeran's thumb rubbed calming circles over your wet cheek.

You lifted both hands, hiding away the shame running through your veins. The weight of realizing you've ripped everything away that Saeran was seeking his entire life. Just because you're not able to handle the thought of him leaving your side. »(N). Don't cry.« He turned his body, pulling you closer. It let you feel safe, despite you not deserving to have him in the first place. »I won't leave your side; I make sure to honor your decisions.« His other hand joined on your cheeks, bringing you to his lips until they're an inch away. The rough tone of his voice humming, whispering for only you to receive the meaning.

»I'd do everything for you, no matter what it is.« Your hiccups cut the otherwise silent air, a whimper following once Saeran tried to hush you. »I am all yours, okay? I don't care what I have to go through. I only want to be with you.« He used more strength as you wanted to take distance, yet his touch's having you melt against him completely. His curves fit oddly well in yours. »That's wrong..! All of this, it's wrong for you! I'm just–« Tears caused the shapes standing inside the room to blur into another. Saeran placed a hand to the back of your head, burying your crying in his shoulder. »I just can't stand the horror of losing you..!«

He nodded, running his fingers through the strands of your hair. »So do I.« Every new statement leaving his mouth, you're getting madder at yourself. It wasn't your intention to hiss, yet you're too emotional to care. Fears, pain and doubts from the past three months spilled over at once. »I'm fucking selfish! And the worse about it; you let me be!« There's no winning, your weight collapsed inside his arms which held you tight. Saeran peeked a kiss on top of your head, hearing you sniff in return. »I want nothing more than to love you, I don't care if it's selfish.«

For a moment you hallucinated, thinking he's smiling through his teeth. »You decided this is the best way, so I'll cherish your actions.« The disgusting air hitched in your throat, rubbing your already ruined face into his chest. Fingers coming around the expensive fabric of his suit, clinging into it like he's your life preserver. And maybe, to some degree, he was. Whether he smiled or kept his lips in a straight line. »B-But my actions.. I don't know if they're the right ones. It feels like I deceived you..!« Saeran titled your head, next kiss placed to your temple. His chapped lips let the goosebumps on your arms stand up. »If you deceived me, I don't mind.«

»How can you say such a horrible thing..« Again, your attempt to get space between your bodies ended in vain, his grip on you's too strong. Saeran kissed your wet cheek, getting rid of the remaining tears in one go. »All I know is that I love you, the rest's second rate to me.« The crying died down as he continued to leave kisses on your neck, finding the spots that let you jump into his embrace. »We're never going to get things right like this.. I want to, but.. I'm too scared. I'm so fucking scared you end up in an even more horrible position than right now.« Saeran only hummed softly, leaving an open mouth kiss underneath your ear.

His arms brought you closer, chests touching. »I can't change this, I'm sorry.« His caressing came to a hold by that painful honest touch corrupting your voice. The bleached hair's slightly rough between your fingertips, but the best feeling in your tiny world. »I love you too much. I can't do anything anymore..« You bit down the fresh sob, letting Saeran lean back up. Your stare tore away, it's too difficult to handle if you'd see the emotions swimming in his eyes. »You don't have to.. It's okay.« It sounded like he's smiling again. The kiss to your lips' unexpected, a high gasp first left you before it's drowned in his mouth.

Saeran tasted of the drink they served at the party, a hint of blueberry to find while he ran his tongue over yours. The blush reached, much against your liking, the tips of your ears by the surprising intimacy. Whenever he let you feel instead of hearing that he loved you, it's the endless reminder that he indeed cared about you the most. His own life didn't have any purpose if it's not for you, it's a terrifying perspective to consider. But you couldn't talk, you felt the same way. As messed up as it was, that's how things ended up. Saeran pulled away, giving you the opportunity to breathe in the now thinner air.

»I don't need a happily ever after. Or some good ending.« He stared right through your soul, into the nastiest corners of your mind. Nothing in particular to read, although you've just kissed a second ago. Leaving his cheeks in a flustered shade or red, a sweet look for him. »As long as you stay with me..« His gaze dropped to your lips again, you imitated the gesture, feeling embarrassed for multiple, maybe rightful reasons. »I bear anything for you, I do whatever you ask of me. If I can make you feel safe when watching me, then so be it. I'm fine with this.« Not convinced, you bit down your lower lip. »Are you sure?«

Saeran huffed, playing with the short hair strands at your hairline. Now there's truly a smile running over his face. Not big, nor reaching his eyes. Yet it's the first one in ages, an undeserved feeling of relief replaced the doubt. »If there's one thing I can be sure of, it's that you are everything to me. So don't cry.« You nodded, using your palm to get rid of the tears that cooled your flaming temperature. No winning, you figured. »Okay.. Okay I won't. Saeran, I really love you. Don't ever forget that, okay? Never ever.« His smile grew, a grin coming to life. You couldn't help but do the same. »How could I ever? You're here with me. We're in this together... I won't ever forget.«

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jasmariswonderland · 2 years

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And now, to conclude Taima’s birthday celebrations, here is her interview! ✨

~~~

Yuulan: Happy Birthday!

Taima: Thanks, Yuu-chan! I hope you have a fun time today!

Y: How are you feeling today?

T: It’s awesome having everyone wish me well and celebrating with me. Though, I felt a little homesick when I woke up. I got a video card from my mom and her friends in the guard and another from my sis. I guess I’m missing them a little more than I thought but don’t worry, I’m in a much better mood now!

Y: Could you tell us more about your family?

T: Well, before coming to NRC, I lived in a big house with my parents, siblings, grandfather, great grandmother, aunts and cousins. There’s my dad is a famous herbalist and healer and my mom is in the royal guard, in charge of protecting the Kingscholar family. And there’s my other mom, she’s a martial arts teacher and taught me and my siblings all we know about fighting!

Y: Wait, so you have two mothers?

T: You sound surprised, but where I’m from, it’s not odd for some people to have multiple spouses. Men can have more than one wife and women can have multiple husbands, or any combination of that as long as everyone involved is cool with it! I have two natural parents but I love my other mother equally and my siblings love my natural mother too.

Y: That actually sounds pretty nice in a way, and families come in all shapes and sizes. But since your natural mother works for the Kingscholar family, did you know Leona already before coming to NRC?

T: Only in passing, sometimes my mom would bring me and my siblings to the palace but more often than not he wasn’t around. More likely, we’d run into his little nephew Prince Cheka, he’s a sweet kid, very energetic but I guess that’s how kids should be!

~~~

Y: What do you like doing outside of school? Hobbies, interests, etc.

T: I like most sports and physical activities, swimming, running, martial arts and spelldrive. Both my moms and my grandpa are very active so I’ve always been involved in some kind of sport. At my old school I was on the track and field club and I joined the same club when I came to NRC. When I’m not hanging with Dani, you’ll usually find me training with Deuce and Jack. Sometimes I join Jack on his morning runs too. It’s nice because he’s always pushing me to be stronger and faster and does’t get mad when I sometimes outrun him.

Y: Do you outrun your club mates a lot?

T: Every now and then, sometimes they get upset because I’m the only girl on the team and supposedly that means I shouldn’t be as fast. But Jack and Deuce always defend me. And hey, it’s not my fault, I would think they’d want me to be as fast as I can, that’s the only way we can win against other schools!

Y: Sounds like the track and field club has a good runner on their hands!

T: Thanks, soon NRC will be hosting a track meet with RSA. They may have a seven year winning streak but wait till I step onto the field. It will be glorious!

Y: Is running something you think you’d like to do professionally? Like maybe being an Olympic athlete?

T: Maybe, there are actually a few things I’d like to in the future but I haven’t decided on one specific path just yet. In addition to being an athlete, I’m also considering joining Sunset Savanna’s royal guard, or maybe even being a professional dancer.

Y: Oh? Like Dani? Is that how you two became friends?

T: You’re half right, we met about seven years ago. Her family was visiting my country and we met at a concert we were both at. We were both dancing to the same song and ended up bumping into each other, but it was all in good fun! It’s funny, she and I are very different in many ways but dancing is one thing we’ll always have in common. Even if she’s a classically trained ballerina and I’m more of a modern pop and lock type girl!

~~~

Y: Let’s hear your thoughts on Scarabia and your dorm mates.

T: Whaaa? You want me to answer truthfully? Haha, well my thoughts aren’t that bad, really! I guess the most important thing is my dorm leaders. Kalim-san is awesome and very fun to be around. I often forget he’s an upperclassman because he’s so easygoing and helpful when he can be. I also often forget that his social status is waayyyyy above mine, until Iman reminds me. But even then, it doesn’t seem like Kalim pays that much mind. That’s what I like about him.

Y: And Jamil?

T: Jamil-san is cool too, he’s a little more reserved and slightly less approachable but not in a bad way. He just seems very focused and I admire that. I once heard Iman mention that he’s a really good dancer, I’d love to see that but whenever we have dorm parties, he’s usually in the kitchen overseeing everything. Maybe one day though.

Y: What’s your favorite thing about Scarabia?

T: Kalim’s magic carpet! Being able to us it is way more fun than flight class! Especially when it’s taking me up in the sky and I give it a little boost with my unique magic! Kalim and Jamil hate when I do that but I don’t think the carpet minds, and life’s no fund without a few risks! Within reason!

Y: I guess so. Thank you for sharing all of that and once again, happy birthday!

(A/N: Groovy image is an eventual WIP and would be of Taima soaring in the skies on the carpet, summoning gales with Kalim and Jamil looking slightly terrified)

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #scarabia oc #OC: Taima #oc birthday

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tangleweave · 5 months

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Given that the hunters have turned into the hunted, Beth has little reason to stand on ceremony. And for the entire twenty minutes that Phil has been in the shower, she's debated her own insanity with herself. When she first really met him, she was smart enough to be afraid. Andy had drilled into her what an organisation like SHIELD could do to her if they ever found out what she was capable of. He'd filled her with ideas of being kidnapped in the dead of night, of being locked up, experimented on, of being force to use her talents to harm people rather than help them. And yet, none of that came to pass. He's always listened to her and even agreed with her on certain matters. He came for her, just like she wished, when she really was imperilled. Every step of the way he's done his best for her even to his own detriment with others, with himself, and she owes him for that. But that isn't it, is it. His quiet nature is more than just the vague smile. More than a kind word or a well-needed hug. Those things she can see him do with the others, the ones he considers family. No, sometimes he looks at her with a certain kind of wonder. He makes her laugh, and now-a-days, he's the only reason she can close her eyes. Living so close for the last few months? Things have gotten into her head. Ideas she isn't used to, ones she wasn't even certain she could ever feel again. So when he comes out in a black tee-shirt and sweats? She wastes no time. She abandons the sandwiches they risked purchasing sitting neatly cut on the diagonal on plates, tinned tomato soup in mugs steaming away. She is so proud she didn't let it burn. She almost calls him 'sir' when she stops directly in front of him, impeding his progress into the rest of the room. Her hands splay flat on his chest, feeling the damp beneath the cloth, the steam of his skin trapped underneath it. She scours his face, searching for something even she isn't sure of, lips faintly parted. "Phil…I…I need to stop putting my life on hold and start living for myself. I dunno wha's gonna happen tomorrow. I dunno wha's gonna happen t'night but I have some ideas." She rises slightly on the tips of her toes. Gaze focused on his mouth. They say go big or go home, and neither she nor Phil have one of those any more, outside of each other. She kisses him.

[ As Solitude Begs Us To Stay / Accepting ]

Conventional wisdom regarding the nature of time says that a specific collection of days becomes a week… but there is no direct formula translating weeks into a month. Neither is there a formula translating days into months. Mostly because the next month almost never has the same number of days as the last. So even if Phil had bothered to count the number of days since he'd awakened beside a scorched, bullet-riddled Lola with the taste of ash in his mouth and the scent of brimstone clinging to his bare body… he would have lost track of the month eventually.

Phil has heard that the intrusion of Cesarian names upon the modern calendar -- therefore making September the ninth month instead of the seventh, October the tenth month instead of the eighth, and so on -- is a crime and ought be punishable by stabbing. What good news, then, awaits anyone with that opinion. And as he thinks on it while the hot water cascades down his head, face, and chest, it might be that it was a joke he'd heard from Beth once, sometime in the past.

Before.

What a curious beast, time. Had it been a year ago? More? Less? He remembers sitting across from her in a field office, a desk separating them, and a decidedly coy smirk on her lips. He could have mistaken it for a jab at his own timekeeping, which has never been fantastic to begin with, but this is Beth he's considering. If she had meant it personally, there would have been no way for him to not know it. She has always worn her heart on her sleeve, and it's what has made her such an invaluable asset to the team.

As well as a pain in the ass.

She suffers neither fools nor ignorance. She tolerates no judgment of her earnest slips of the tongue, when her pidgin comes to the fore or when she expresses a feeling she has that refuses to remain silent. For someone so diminutive, she has a curious ability to make others feel small -- when she really wants to exercise it. There is no question of whom she likes and whom she does not. They all know which camp they're in.

By rights, she should have been an exemplary undercover agent. He could have encouraged her to apply her talents to such a career track. She'd arrived at SHIELD HQ literally in someone else's skin. But to ask that of her would have been to divert her from the calling that had brought her through those doors in the first place. The chance to make a difference… on her own terms.

The chance to help people. And the chance to overcome her fears. All with the sort of family support she deserved to have at her back.

Phil had warned her that it would not be safe. That a life like this takes its toll, one way or another.

Now those words ring hollow in his own head. The tone warbles over all the shattered remnants of his presumption. When he'd offered her that warning, he hadn't actually believed SHIELD could be so thoroughly and viciously dismantled. Their adoptive family -- those that hadn't been turncoats -- ruined, scattered, killed… or worse yet, captured.

The guilt will stay with him for as long as he draws breath. And every breath he draws is a borrowed one. Which might be why he no longer makes any effort to keep track of time.

So when he steps out of the motel bathroom and sees Beth approaching him, he worries momentarily that he'd given her cause to be concerned for him. Had he taken too long? Maybe she thought he was running out all the hot water. Or maybe that he'd slipped. Or maybe that he was trying to figure out whether he can drown. (He already knows the answer to that one.)

She says his name.

Here it comes. She's stammering.

She needs to live her life for herself.

She's making a choice.

Of course. She can't do this anymore. It's really the only explanation. And why should he ever ask her to? She had been subjected to unspeakable things. Humiliation. Mutilation. There is no other word for it -- torture. He had pulled her out of an isolation room in the center of her own personal Hell… and she had shown him the one thing that had breathed on the singular spark of hope she'd had remaining. An effigy of him, made from scraps of her own tattered clothing.

She has stayed with him for… for… weeks? Months? And she's been nothing but faithful. Hewed as closely to him as she could, and there isn't a single idiot left on Earth who wouldn't understand why. Together they've hidden away, they've scoured the country from one side to the other and back, looking for any clue as to the wherabouts of the others. Fought together. Bled together. Killed together.

But if all he's doing is continuing the fight for the sake of appeasing Vengeance… at what point does she decide she wants off the train?

Now is as good a time as any.

It'll be okay. He can still--

--what?

Her lips against his are soft. Warm. Rose petals that carry the faintest trace of cinnamon. He feels, more than hears, her drawing breath in through her nose, now brushing against his own. Feels her fingers beginning to curl in the fabric of his shirt.

This… this is not what he'd thought. Not at all. The only thing he's gotten right about this moment is that she's making a choice.

She's choosing him.

His brow knits for the briefest moment -- and then smooths as his eyes fall closed. The faintest sigh escapes through his nose. He doesn't even know it himself in this moment, but it is a sigh of relief such that he might struggle for the rest of his life to properly define the accompanying feeling. As though Beth has found her way into the rubble surrounding his soul and is now bracing the crushing weight of those remains across her shoulders… just to give him a chance to breathe.

His right arm lifts up and circles her waist, fingers wrapping about her oblique. His left arm reaches up to curl about her as well, though its truncation just below his elbow -- the prosthetic is recharging on the nearby endtable -- means he can only rest the end of his socket beside her spine.

His posture slackens. Shifts, now to accommodate enfolding her slight form closer.

His lips part from hers in near-silence, save the roaring of his heartbeat, and he thinks he can hear hers too; even if it isn't audible, he certainly feels it in counterpoint to his own. He opens his eyes to the sight of her flushed face, her eyes half-hidden behind her lashes as perhaps a belated final defense mechanism. This could all go sideways without even so much as a moment's notice. With their track record? It's all but guaranteed.

But looking at her now, in the dim light of the room, midnight looming large outside… it all makes sense, in the most insane ways. He had come to her, had he not? He'd pitched her on joining him in an endless crusade to do the impossible. To defend the helpless, to cure the terminally ill, to hold the line against the eternal night. Global intelligence network? SHIELD was an army of the absurd. And in the span of a single conversation, not only had she admitted to an array of abilities he'd not even known she possessed, she had been so ready to say yes that he'd had to advise her to wait a full day.

Since that moment, Phil has encouraged her to use her talents according to her principles. Trusted that her own strength of character would be as proper a guide as any training manual in SHIELD's repertoire. Stood in front of her when questions came regarding her missteps. Given her the guidance of a mentor, a friend, and a superior officer, separately and in every combined iteration. Trained her in combat. Tested her resolve. Congratulated her on her successes. Consoled her in her failures. And in between all of those moments, he has always looked her in the eye when speaking to her.

None of these efforts, remarked upon separately, would have been considered above and beyond. Many of them are SOP for both a supervising officer and a person with basic decency. But when put together, they provide the frame Beth's puzzle has been tragically lacking. The pieces might not fit precisely together, and the picture may be a little disjointed…

But the analogy seems apropos to Phil. Because deep down, he has always known of the hole in his heart. Not the one put there by a callous Asgardian god. Rather, the one he himself permitted through his own emotional detachment. The one he'd always felt should be there, to make things easier when his time came.

His quest to save Beth had not just been a matter of professional courtesy. It had been a search for redemption. Beth had given him drive. Purpose. Focusing on her needs had given him a reason to stay grounded and sane… no matter the chaotic insanity happening all around them. She had given him a reason, beyond Vengeance, to keep going.

She had helped him stay human.

How much of it can she read in his eyes?

His breath passes out of him and breaks gently against her lips in the minimal span between them. And he says the only thing that makes any sense to say.

"Tell me more."

#And So It Begins | answered prompts #brooklynislandgirl #beth riley #muse: coulson (au)#verse: and hell's coming with me #tw: torture (mention only)

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blessiejustine-portfolio · 1 year

Text

[ DRAFTED FEATURE ] Several Banana Leaves Later

I once said that I wouldn’t know how to live in a future that didn’t contain you. But here I am, relatively alive — years, kilograms, and many, many pastil banana leaves later, the same place where we spent our last days together.

Certain moments still trigger the memory of you. When I’m walking down the pathwalk under the searing afternoon sun, a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead and back, trudging through the dusty campus you knew so well. When I’m mounting the jeep at the terminal on my way to school — now where I work. I never got the chance to tell you I work here now, the place where we were really itching to get out of, some years ago. Most of the time those moments just remind me of your absence. Sometimes the absence hits me square in the chest, hard, right in the spot you left behind. The hole you carved when you departed without saying goodbye, leaving in your wake this world that is now a little dimmer because you took some of its light with you. I suppose no single person is ever truly whole. Some parts of ourselves are scattered; with the people we love and loved.

You know the campus looks so different now? There are street lights along the Gemma East/West road now. The road in front of our college has some as well. Street lights! Remember how we used to walk down that unevenly paved, pebbly road, with only our phones’ camera flash as the torch to light the way, hoping to God that there’s nothing in the darkness of the tall grass — natural or supernatural — would come at us? The huts that we used to hang out at are now gone, too, abolished by either depreciation brought about by time or physically replaced by stalls that sell pastil that now, for some reason, don’t taste the same to me, now that I don’t get to eat it with you. I wonder how much pastil I’ll have eat before it tastes normal again.

Time is not a unit with which grief can be measured. Grief is preternatural, unquantifiable by math or science, as primeval as the instinct for love itself — “What is grief, if not love persevering?” said The Vision in one of the many Marvel TV shows that I also wish I could talk to you about. Your absence is not just a singular thing. It became the flowers I laid when I buried you, it became my tears, it became the antidepressants I had to take. Now, it’s the fear that keeps me from ever moving out of this city because I feel like moving away would mean completely forgetting you.

Sometimes I wish that these words I write and the sadness they’re built on would be enough to bring you back to life. Or even just call you from where you are, invite you for an afternoon snack, so I could make up for lost time and past wrongs. I hate talking about you in the past tense — it feels like you’re even more absent than you already are. Yet, deep down I know that even when there are no more new stories to tell about you; there will always be the entire lifetime you left: the gift of an unwritten memoir that will keep us warm on cold days and keep us company on rainy ones, the absurd anecdotes from our field trips, the slapstick-comedy moments, even the hard moments that, in retrospect, I wish I had tried to understand more.

A lot has happened since you left: I’ve met new people, exchanged stories with them in the way you and I did. Sometimes, I make the mistake of looking for you in them. I’ve stopped trying to do that. Maybe I will always look for you. “How often — will it be for always? — how often will the vast emptiness astonish me like a complete novelty and make me say, ‘I never realized my loss till this moment’?” CS Lewis writes in A Grief Observed. Perhaps this is like that.

In the meantime, I’ll just be packing stories for when we see each other again. Dispose of as many pastil banana leaves as I can until they taste like before. Missing someone is not an affliction, I’ve come to realize. It’s a scar. Something that will be with me for always now, where a painful wound of loss once festered. Most days I’m alright, actually. The mourning is not as bad. I just wish you were still here.

For now, I will love you from here. Until we meet again. ◼️

#bjga-writing

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

“your hair is really soft” – jjk ver!

ft. itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, nanami kento, ryoumen sukuna, & inumaki toge

ITADORI YUUJI – you’re in the room with Yuuji, who is busy watching the movies gojo-sensei had given him. He holds the cursed corpse in his other side, careful not to let him hit you, while your head lies on his shoulder, eyes drooping close from your long day. Yuuji turns the volume down and brings you closer to him until you’re practically sitting on his lap, his lips making brief contact at the crown of your head while he mumbles sweet nothings, too engrossed in the movie.

You smile at his sweet gesture, gently fisting the front of his jacket while you return the affection, kissing the edges of his jaw softly to not distract him too much. Yuuji’s lips tilt at the soft press of your lips on his warm skin. Soon, your hands rake up to his hair where your nails rake his scalp. Immediately, Yuuji deflates like a balloon as he purrs at the movement, making you chuckle in your sleepy daze.

“Your hair is really soft,” you note, and his eyes practically sparkle. Yuuji was a huge fan of hair gels and hair products, that his desk was filled with different brands all so he could keep his hair perfectly styled – in that somewhat natural, messy appeal. You love it on him and he melts at the fact you’ve noticed his efforts into taking care of himself. Most of all, the feeling of the smooth tendrils running past your fingertips like caressing a field of flowers lulls both you and him to a serene state.

GOJO SATORU – Like Yuuji, Gojo takes his time in styling his hair. You brush your teeth beside Gojo, who scowls as he struggles to keep his hair up the way he likes before he puts on his blindfold. The lanky man groans and adds more product, flattening the strands of his hair between his palms before swooping it up. When it falls down, Gojo whines, leaning forward on the sink counter.

You chuckle to yourself; he could be so dramatic sometimes. Bumping your hip with his, you gesture at him to move, and the big baby pouts before placing his chin on your shoulder as he watches you gargle. “Babe,” he sniffles, arms wrapping around your middle before his nose nuzzles into your skin. You giggle and push him away; the little bastard knew you were ticklish there. “My hair won’t stick up the way I want it to. Now I don’t look so cool anymore. What would my students say? That Gojo-Sensei stopped being attractive?”

That earns him an eye roll and a playful smack to his shoulder. “Ow!” Gojo rubs his shoulder with another pout, although both of you know nothing ever really hurts the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. “You’re mean.”

“And you’re just fishing for compliments.”

When Gojo hides his smirk behind his palm, you know you’ve hit the nail right on the head. Gojo was probably the most self-assured and overconfident man you’ve ever met – the day he thought lowly of himself and worried about anything concerning him that would ruin his “image” would be the day pigs could fly. Nevertheless, you give in with a sigh, extending your palm towards him.

“Give me the gel. I’ll fix your hair for you.”

“You’re a lifesaver, babe!” Obediently, Gojo crouches down so you could reach his hair, but not before muttering “shorty” under his breath. You tug at his hair harshly than you intended as payback, and Gojo only lets out a loud, fake moan before doubling over.

Your laughter and his bubble and echo through the cramped room, but both of you don’t mind. It’s moments like these you cherish with your whole heart even though it’s not extremely sweet or anything over the top. Dating a jujutsu sorcerer, the strongest one at that, wasn’t always rainbows and unicorns. You worry for him all the time and stay up awake all night, only ever finding peace in your sleep when he comes home safely – which he always does.

Still, you don’t stop worrying for him. It’s only natural, after all, and the way Gojo’s eyes soften as you slightly massage his scalp and style his hair for him lets you know he loves small moments like this too when both of you are completely alone in your own worlds, just enjoying each other’s presence and not having to think about anything else.

“Your hair is really soft,” you muse, unaware of the way Gojo’s closed his eyes as he lets your hand do the magic. When the familiar scent of vanilla and flowers wafts into your senses, you lean down closer to him to sniff his hair, stopping in your movements. “That’s odd. You smell like shampoo, but I haven’t bought that scent in a week.”

“Well, I may or not be the one who emptied it the last time,” he sheepishly chuckles.

“Gojo! That shampoo was really expensive!”

“Yeah, but I wanted to smell like you,” he coos, gently peeling your arms off him so he could hug you. Because of the height difference, you face plant into his bare chest where his skin is still warm from the shower. You keep feigning your irritation, but really, you squish your cheek above his heart, and Gojo’s chest rumbles as he laughs – he knows you can’t resist him. “Sorry about it babe, let’s go grocery shopping tonight when I come home, yeah?”

“You better buy your own shampoo,” you grumble, but Gojo only laughs.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI – Megumi is hunched over his desk, eyebrows pinched together while his hands move at an extreme speed. He’s studying while you scroll through memes on your phone, not wanting to disturb your boyfriend. Megumi is studious as ever, and it’s not that you aren’t, but you’re definitely a lot more relaxed than he is.

You often tease him that you’ve got amazing memory by tapping your forehead whenever he tells you to study with him, which only makes him huff, but in reality, you refuse to study with him because he’s so distracting.

The way he bites his lip when he’s concentrated on something has your stomach erupting with butterflies, and it doesn’t help when his dark blue eyes pierce through the pages like the poor textbook committed a crime he couldn’t forgive.

All in all, Megumi’s beauty tripled tenfold when he was dedicated to something, and it was this fact that had you keeping your distance from him while he studies, because the last thing he needs is to have you jump him when he’s got an exam to prepare for. Unbeknownst to him, you’re angling your phone upwards until his beautiful side profile comes to view – and it’s so unfair his lashes are longer and thicker than yours – and you take a silent snap.

You take a few more pictures with a silent giggle, making sure to set it as your lock screen later. Nothing better than waking up to Megumi’s face every time your alarm went off, but your daydreaming is halted when Megumi drops his pen with a loud sigh.

“I know you’re taking pictures of me,” he side-eyes you with a glare. You squeak before hiding your phone behind you, knowing that it’s not out of the picture for Megumi to steal them and delete his precious photos. It didn’t help he knows your password either (duh, it’s his birthdate) so you take the extra mile by offering him a sickeningly sweet smile, an apology ready to leave your lips when – “If you wanted my attention that badly, you could’ve just said so. I don’t mind taking a break or something.”

Although he sounds annoyed, the way he avoids your gaze to hide his reddened cheeks and ears say otherwise. Megumi’s back faces you as you wait patiently on his bed. You don’t want to bother him – you really don’t – so you stay put, and Megumi sighs for the hundredth time that night before spinning on his chair, arms stretched out wide open. “Come. Want hugs.”

He keeps his gaze on his lap to swallow the embarrassment of using baby-like words, which was a huge contrast from his quiet and cold persona. You don’t mind though. Deep down, Megumi is like everyone else who wants constant affection, so you leap out of his bed and jump into his arms. Megumi relaxes with your weight on top of him before he squishes his cheeks against your boobs – one of his quirks that you found endearing – a sign that he just wanted to relax for a little while.

Megumi isn’t really that huge on touch, so moments like this where he allows himself to be physically intimate with you has you floating on cloud nine. You hear him sigh between you, and you hide your grin by pushing his hair back to reveal those pretty eyes of his, beckoning him to look you in the eye.

As expected, his cheeks flush a beet red at the intensity of your gaze, but what really catches your attention is how his eyes just brighten even though they’re lined with dark circles.

This precious boy means everything to you, and you cup his face until your noses are rubbing. “Love you, Gumi,” you whisper, the boy’s breath hitching when your eyelashes flutter against his skin. Megumi tsks, a faux scowl on his face because both of you are painfully aware that he just melts around you.

“Stop teasing me. You know I don’t like that.”

“I’m not teasing you,” you lie, brushing his hair back in a soothing manner to help him relieve the headache he gets when he studies too much. “You know, your hair is really soft. Can I keep doing this?”

Megumi hates it when people touch his hair, so you expect him to say no – and you’ll gladly respect it – but instead, he pushes you closer and murmurs, “Don’t stop doing that.”

You smile so wide you fear your face would break.

NANAMI KENTO – You’ve always been fascinated with your co-worker. You don’t know what it is about the sharp-faced and stoic Nanami Kento that somehow makes him stand out from the rest. It’s not like he was smarter or better than anyone, although you do admit Nanami overworks most of the time.

It’s kind of pathetic you’ve been crushing on him ever since your first day of work. Maybe it’s because he worked with virtue and wishes to actually be honest instead of just sucking the money out of others. Maybe it’s because seeing him visit a bakery every after work makes him seem softer and a lot more human than his seemingly unapproachable nature. Whatever it was, you can’t explain why you’re so enamoured with the blond, or why you have the audacity to suddenly card your fingers through his hair at his desk that time.

You were told by your boss to give him this folder – quick, easy, and simple. But Nanami has this effect on you that he makes your brain go brr every time you go closer to him. You blame it on the fact both of you are alone at the office right now for OT, but when Nanami freezes under your touch, you realize the grave consequences of your actions.

As if you’ve touched something boiling hot – and he kind of is – you retract your arm and bow so deep you feel a vertebrae popping air. “I’m so sorry!” you begin to blabber, bowing repeatedly to the point your hair has become a mess. You can’t even look him in the eye – what were you thinking?! “I didn’t mean to, it’s just your hair looked really nice and soft and I couldn’t help myself! If you want to tell the higher-ups about this harassment and get me fired, I promise I won’t mind. In fact, I’ll take this to my grave and even offer my firstborn child as an apology—”

“Y/N.”

“because I’ve done something so horrendous and oh my gosh, I was just eating donuts and I probably got crumbs in your pretty hair—”

“Y/N,”

“And that’s really so low of me. Uh, actually, I may or may not have spent last month’s salary to buy my niece a huge ass dollhouse, but I’d gladly schedule a hair appointment for you—” you stop your words when you feel huge, calloused hands squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered out like a fish. Nanami stands before you, looking as handsome as ever, and that thought only has you panicking more and withdrawing. “I’m so sorry.”

Nanami sighs, pulling away to give you some space. You try to fight back the whine because not only did you look ridiculous under him, but also because you actually missed his touch.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind,” he takes the folder from you, pauses, then tilts his head to the side. “You think my hair is soft?”

“Uhm,” you blink rapidly, “Y-yes. Your hair is really pretty too. In fact, everything about you is pretty, like your hands when you type in paperwork but – I’m talking too much aren’t I?” you laugh nervously, scratching the back of your head. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“I make you nervous?” Nanami doesn’t sound like he believes it.

“Yeah,” you confess, switching your weight from one foot to another. At this point, you’ve given up on asking him out for coffee this weekend because you’re sure he’s labelled you as an idiot now. Not that it’s surprising though; not only does Nanami keep to himself out of social aversion, but you’re also pretty loud and awkward, a huge contrast to someone as well-put as him. “Anyways, uh,” you clear your throat, gesturing to your cubicle. “Now that you’ve got the file, I’m gonna go do my part. See you later, I guess. Or not. You can go home first you want. I’ve got quite a lot on my plate.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Sorry?”

Nanami organizes his desk one last time before following you to your desk. “I’m done with my part and it’s late. It’s not safe for you to walk home alone,” he glances at his watch, “I’ll wait for you until you’re done and walk you back home. That way, I don’t have to worry about your safety tonight,” he plops down on the empty seat next to yours, crossing his arms on his broad chest. “Take all the time you need. Just wake me up when you’re done.”

Just like that, Nanami dozes off, exhausted from a long day of hard work. You, on the other hand, are more energized than ever as you suddenly find a strong wave of motivation you’ve never had before.

Maybe you don’t mess up everything, after all.

RYOUMEN SUKUNA – He groans when you giggle at him, using your small, dainty hands to brush it through his hair. Sukuna liked to sleep in and it was only seven in the morning, meaning he’s supposed to be still lost in dreamland with thoughts about you and your cute little face. But because you’re an annoying brat who’s an early bird and way too cheerful as a morning person, you’re wide awake when the sun shone through the windows, and you’re gently coaxing him awake by rotating your fingers through his hair.

“Your hair is really soft.”

“Stop that,” he complains, but doesn’t really do anything to push you away. “It’s too early. Go back to bed.”

“But I’m already awake,” you tease, proving your point by taking off his covers and patting his chest. “Come on, let me make you breakfast. Maybe we can go out today and go see a movie, what do you think? It’s my day off so we better make use of it!”

“Exactly, it’s a day off,” he growls the last part, surprising you when his strong hands grip your thigh and drag you beside him. Soon enough, Sukuna has you trapped in his muscular arms until you can’t move anymore. “Let’s just stay the whole day in bed. Plus, I’m the one making breakfast. There’s no way you’re still cooking for me on your day off.”

“But I love cooking for you.”

“I know, but it’s my turn now,” he huffs through your hair. Sukuna’s grip loosens around you a bit to give you room to breathe, but he’s taken aback when you only snuggle closer to him to the point your legs and tangled and your body is warm from his heat. You don’t have to say it out loud to tell him you’ve conceded to his wishes.

As always, Sukuna is right. It feels much better to just let go of time and enjoy this moment. And he smells so good, feels so warm, that you’re unable to stop yourself from burrowing closer onto his body until you’re sure you’re about to start smelling like him later.

Of course, Sukuna likes the thought of that, so he sweeps one arm behind to tug the covers back over your bodies. He kisses your temple, and with a low, husky voice, grumbles, “Let’s go back to sleep, then we’ll do everything you want later, okay? I just want to stay in bed with you a little longer.”

For a guy who was considered heartless and barbaric, he sure turned into putty in your hands.

INUMAKI TOGE – The platinum haired boy lays on your lap, the wire of headphones dangling beside you both. You’re thankful Inumaki has his eyes closed, because the last thing you want him to see is how embarrassed and giddy you are at that moment.

You and Inumaki have been friends for years, meaning you’ve been hiding your crush on him for a painfully long time. He’s recently made a Spotify playlist with an innocent text of, “I made you a playlist of all the songs that reminds me of you,” which leads you both to your current predicament. It’s a rather lazy weekend and Gojo-sensei isn’t around to bother any of you, so you’re in Inumaki’s room, careful not to bounce your legs out of habit to not give the poor boy a headache.

You snap back to life when Inumaki squeezes your thigh, and you’re met with azure eyes looking back up at you. “Mustard leaf?” he points to your face, which has been previously constricted and heated from his close proximity. It isn’t the first time you and Toge have cuddled, but it’s been too long and you’re standing at the edge of a dangerous cliff with the desire to tell him you like him.

Inumaki must’ve thought you’re uncomfortable with his weight on you because he begins to sit up. “Oh, no, no!” you coax him back down despite his questioning eyes, a wide grin replacing your flustered state to conceal it. “Its’s fine, really. I was just vibing with the songs.”

He hums, not completely believing it, but he doesn’t want to push either. Soon, he settles into your lap again and makes you lose your mind when his breath starts to tickle your kneepads now that he’s facing behind you.

Your heart just about combusts, and before you know it, Inumaki has fallen asleep while the theme of Howl’s Moving Castle plays. Once his breathing regulated into a steady rhythm, you reach out to brush his hair back and lightly add some pressure for better sleep. You know Inumaki lies that, and you smile to yourself when he leans into your touch even in his slumber.

“Your hair is so soft,” you say mostly to yourself, leaning down to kiss his the crown of his head, making Inumaki sigh contentedly. Gosh, you love him so much.

Now isn’t the time but...hopefully, one day you could tell him how you feel. Even if he rejects you, you hope you could still be friends even after that awkward encounter –

You freeze as the next song comes on. I.F.L.Y by Bazzi comes on, and just as you cover your mouth to silence your gasps, you hear the faintest snickers coming from Inumaki before he goes back to “snoring.”

“Toge! Were you awake the whole time?!”

4K notes · View notes

bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

are you feline what i’m feline? — todoroki shoto

ೃ pairing: cat boy! ┃pro hero! todoroki shoto x fem pro hero! reader

ೃ tags: smut 18+ (the rest of the tags are below the cut!)

ೃ warnings: nsfw

ೃ wc: 3k words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ blessed with a quirk that can temporarily transform any human being into any living thing they want through the means of potions and concoctions, you brew up a cat girl potion to surprise shoto for your second year anniversary. however, some accidents and mishaps happen, and you’re welcomed home by a handsome cat boy instead.

ೃ dedicating this fic to the lovely and amazing @todosweetheart bc her cat boy! shoto art is the reason why this fic exists. thank u for the content u feed us val! 🥰💓

additional tags: use of natural aphrodisiac, cat boy! kink, overstimulation, fingering, kitten/cat play, rough but loving sex)

You had just recently moved in to a new neighborhood with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shoto.

Your blissful domestic life with him was just about to begin and life couldn’t get any better than this. and yet...

sometimes you wish you could do more for him.

The two of you met when you were hired to work at his father’s agency, stealing glances at him by the reception area whenever you came in for work, and coincidentally getting into the same elevator as him. Not knowing that he was woefully smitten with you too. It was only through the probing of your co-workers that you had drunkenly confessed to him at a company party and he had (soberly) confessed to you too.

That was where everything started.

That was how you and the No. #3 Pro-hero got together.

Sometimes, it made you think if you were even worthy of his love.

You were just a hero with a support quirk; with it being used for more science and field-related work as your powers made you manifest and create drinkable liquids that could change the physical appearance of a person (make them invisible, turn them into an animal, or even turn them back into a child or into an elderly person) for a limited time and depending on how strong or weak the solution. This means that through your quirk, you are able to tamper with a person’s DNA through these concoctions without any consequences. It was a powerful quirk, just like magic, yes, but can it be used for offense? Sadly not.

Shoto’s quirk was the exact opposite. Bearing the quirk of fire and ice, he was the definition of perfection. The perfect quirk, the perfect combination of two exact opposite elements, and how adept he is at using both of them. Often praised and hailed by the public for not only being extremely powerful, but also for how painstakingly handsome he is. You were just waiting for some controversial tabloid to talk about the No. 3 Pro Hero and his girlfriend who was way out of his league.

Shoto constantly reassures you not to worry about them, never failing to calm you down with his gentle I love you’s and forehead kisses whenever he sees you tensed up and nervous, and never failing to tell you that you are the light of his life and his strength to continue fighting. and yet, it still worries you sometimes.

Today marks your 2 year anniversary.

The two of you decide to go out on a simple date tonight at one of the best-reviewed restaurants in the neighborhood as the two of you were busy with throwing out the moving boxes and unwrapping your furniture, combined with the hero work that the two of you do during the day. Completely ruling out the possibility of being able to plan an elaborate anniversary date.

But, it was alright. As cheesy as Shoto makes it sound, no day can ever become the worst, as long as he’s spending it with you.

“Ah~ Those crepes were super yummy! Plus, the cafe was really cute!” You beam with a satisfying yawn, the two of you walking side by side, hand holding the other, and his arm wrapped around your shoulder for that extra warmth against the cold summer night.

“Yea. There was a classy vibe to it. That was my first time trying a galette, and I must say that was tasty.” He remarks, turning to you. Your radiant and lively energy was infectious and he can’t help but smile. “Leave it to Mina and Sato to know all the best restaurants, I suppose.”

You nod contentedly and the two of you continue to walk back home in silence. Shoto looks around, taking in the sight and wondering if he could point out any small details about your surroundings that could make you laugh or smile. He notices a small shadow perk up from beneath a bush and he casually points at it. “Hmm? (Y/N), look over there.”

You follow Shoto’s gaze and also notice the small shadowy figure. “Oh?”

The quiet sound of a purr could be heard from the bush. The two of you wait a little bit for the creature to reveal itself. A black cat pounces out of the plant, it’s beautiful green eyes staring back at you. “Meoooow.”

The cat walks up to you and you crouch down, putting your hand out, and wait patiently. Sure enough, the cat nuzzles against it.

“Ahhh she’s so cute.” You observe the cat a bit more and notice it’s femme feline features. Shoto crouches down next to you and pats it’s head. Clearly the kitty seems to enjoy all this attention as she’s purring up a storm. “She is.”

You glance at Shoto and notice how his eyes glimmered a different blue-grey light as he continued to play with the kitten. Pure bliss present in his face. His handsome and soft features make you blush, with the heat rising up to your cheeks, you quickly turn away before Shoto could notice you.

Bingo.

What if you turned into a Cat Girl and made Shoto… ya know…

It was a simple formula after all. You could whip up a concoction, sprinkle in a little bit of natural aphrodisiac and that’s it! The recipe to the sexiest and kinkiest night of your life! Maybe you could show your love to Shoto in a different way than most girlfriends do to their boyfriends no?

“AHAH!” You suddenly jump up from the ground, your boyfriend perks up a little bit in surprise too. You then bring out your phone and begin scrolling through your notes. “Sho-kun! Come on! Let’s get home!” You grab his hand and drag him away. He adjusts his running to your pace, smiling at your sudden burst of eagerness and excitement. “Alright alright, love. Be careful so we don’t trip.”

That night, you told Shoto to not wait for you as you had to brew up some potions for tomorrow as specially requested by a hero from your agency. Although reluctant at first to leave you, he intently watched you work your magic at the little science lab in your house. The smell of the strong chemicals waft around the living room, prompting him to retreat back to your bedroom, but not without a quick kiss (that was about to turn into a make out session) before bed.

“Happy anniversary, Love.” Shoto holds you by the waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you swaying slightly to the non-existent rhythm and this makes you almost want to go to bed with him. “Shall we continue this tomorrow?” He peppers kisses down your neck, you giggle in response.

“We shall.” You turn to him and deliver a kiss to his lips. You pull away before you could even begin to think of yearning for more. “I’m sorry if we had to cut our anniversary short. It’s your day off tomorrow right? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He nods first before giving you one last kiss, this time on the forehead. “Goodnight (Y/N). I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away. you watch him leave your lab first and make sure he’s out of sight before you get back to work.

After a few more hours of solving the formula and crafting the recipe for a potion that doesn’t necessarily turn you into a cat, but rather, give you only cat ears and a cat tail, yu bring out a thermos bottle from the cupboard and pour in the liquid solvent along with the natural aphrodisiac. You stir it a little bit before using your quirk to add the finishing touch and to make it a viable and an actually working potion.

“Can’t wait to drink this tomorrow.” You snicker to yourself, as you pour all of the liquid onto the thermos, storing it in the fridge and then proceed to go to your bedroom and finally hit the sack.

“AHH I’M LATE!” You rush out of the bedroom, messy bedhead hair, your hero suit not even fully zipped up, mismatched socks, and your bag tossing and turning, most of the contents falling out, your thermos being one of them. “I’M LATE FOR WORK! BYE! I LOVE YOU!” You greet Shoto who was eating his breakfast in the kitchen, planting him a farewell kiss on the cheek as you dash your way out of the house.

“I l-love you too.” He bids goodbye with a wave, but you weren’t even there to hear it anymore. Shoto’s eyes cast downward, a bit disappointed that he wasn’t even able to greet you properly this morning and how your anniversary date felt so short even though you promised each other you would spend more time together later today.

He then notices your water bottle on the ground. A sticky note that was labeled “Drink me!” was attached to it and of course as every other person would react once they see a note like that,

Shoto thought that was for him.

“SHO! I’M BACK!” You call out to him, closing the door behind you. “Sho~?” You sing-song, peering through the kitchen and the living room but your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. “Where are youuu?” You continue to traverse through your house, looking for him. You grind to a halt when you notice your thermos bottle on top of the dining table… All empty.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no.

“Shoto!” You call out, your voice cracking with nervousness. You rush to your bedroom, hoping and praying that he was there. Only… for the lights to be out.

“Sho?” Your hand reaches out for the light switch. But, you hesitate. What if a demon had kidnapped your boyfriend and you had to save him!? What can your quirk even do to save him!?

“(Y/N)...” He finally responds. Although his tone was soft and still a bit suspicious, you breathe a sigh of a relief and finally turn on the lights.

The lights illuminate the room to reveal your boyfriend in his usual turtleneck fit that you always ogle at. You look up and down, noticing that this is still the same man you know and love and nothing bad actually happened until…

You look up and behind him.

He’s still the same man you know and love.

Just this time however. he’s a cat boy.

“I drank the potion that you made.” He says ever so casually, nothing ever fazes him as usual. “It had a “drink me!” sticky note attached to it and I thought it was for me.” He continues to speak plainly. You thought you could get out of this situation scotch-free and you didn’t have to explain to your loving boyfriend what had happened to him. That was until he crossed his arms, his feet tapping the ground, and his cat tail waving behind him. “Please explain to me why I am now a cat boy.”

“Well…” You began twiddling with your fingers, trying your very best not to make eye contact with him or else you would end up squealing in delight because of how adorable he looked. “You see, I made this potion to turn me into a cat girl so that I can… ya know… please you and stuff. I saw how affectionate you were with the cat we saw last night so.. I guess you can consider this as my late anniversary gift to you?” You laugh sheepishly, still trying your best not to look at him as his gaze intensifies.

Shoto’s black and white cat ears twitch as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Fine. I forgive you. This will wear off eventually right?” You nod in response and Shoto’s shoulders slump down in relief. He was about to approach you and envelop you in a hug, until his legs wobbled midway and he practically fell down onto the floor.

You rush to him and help him stand up, propping himself on the bed. “Sho… are you alright love?”

He starts breathing heavily, cat ears twitching once again, fingers trembling, lips quivering, and his face as red as a tomato. “(Y/N)... what was even in that potion you made?”

You suddenly remember the aphrodisiac you added to the recipe.

Oh no no no no (2)

Shoto suddenly turns away from you before you could notice the bulge rising in his pants. He covers his face in embarrassment, refusing to look at you.

“I also added some aphrodisiac and some catnip into the potion ahahaha…” You scratch the back of your neck. Shoto turns to you again, his eyes glowing like that of a cat and giving off a smoldering feeling. He shifts your position, gently yet somehow arduously pinning you down on the bed. He steps closer, hands moving up your sides, going around your back, pulling you flush against him. Shoto nips at your earlobe, sending sparks through you.

You bite back a moan as he kisses your neck, his tongue hot, the gentle scrape of his teeth (slightly sharped like that of fangs) leaving you shivering.

The two of you stop for a bit. He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Tension coils around him, barely contained energy. As if Shoto is preventing himself from showing you his animalistic and feline hunger wanting to ravage you.

“C-can I-”

Before Shoto could even utter another word, you grab his face and pull him back into a desperate kiss, capturing his gasp and the throaty moan that follows. You capture his mouth with yours, and he responds eagerly, his kiss fervent, all his restraint crumbling at your touch.

He kisses your chin, and you tip your head back as he trails his lips down your neck, murmuring praise.

He lays you down, hiking your shirt up, tossing it to the floor, then deftly unhooking your bra, and exposing your breasts. You giggle and reach for his pants, unzipping the fly and getting a little thrill when you see the huge bulge in his boxers.

You push up his turtleneck sweater to admire his abs and Shoto smiles back at you seductively.

“Like what you see?” He says teasingly, a little quip that he barely does when the two of you make love, his husky voice makes your stomach swoop.

“I can only tell you if you purr first.” You tease back, running your fingers over his cat ears. Shoto feels the tickling sensation build up inside of him, slowly about to give in to his raw animal instincts. While you continue to run your fingers through his cat features, he begins to suck and nibble on your breasts. You feel yourself get lost in his gentle caress, barely even notice him pulling off your panties and sliding them off between your legs. Shoto’s fingers slowly slide into your womanhood, as if testing out the waters. He works them in and out for a bit, then pulls them out, brings them to his mouth, and licks them.

Like a kitten licking its milk.

“Sho…”

You feel the last of Shoto’s restraint break as his cat ears twitch again, you can practically feel the energy crackling around him, and the hunger in his eyes more evident than a while ago. Shoto then braces his arms beside your head, as he slots his hips between your thighs. You rise up to meet him, a low moan spilling from your lips.

“(Y/N)... I’m going to put it in now…”

You bite your lip and nod in confirmation.

Shoto gently sets a slow pace, your head spins at the sensation and the arousal coursing through you, your hips rolling to meet the movements of his cock. As he enters, the thrilling sensation courses through you again and your mind feels like it just melted.

You gently rub his cat ears again, and his cock twitches inside of you, the enthralling reaction resulting in a shudder of pleasure shooting through your body, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And that pleasure transmits to Shoto loud and clear from your pussy.

Meanwhile, his breathing was ragged, more wild and animalistic than normal. Which is to be expected due to the potion but… this hot and intense feeling radiating off of him was different.

And you love it.

“I-I feel like I’m losing control…”

As Shoto speaks, he slams his cock into you, making your legs shake and you moaning louder than you should. Everything seems more intense, from his thrusting to the look on his eye.

At this point, it’s getting harder and harder to form a coherent sentence.

“Is it alright if I go faster?” Shoto says softly, you hold his hand in reassurance, unable to respond properly as every intense emotion running inside of you makes you let out hitched and breathy moans instead.

Shoto pulls out halfway, then slams back inside of you, making a loud sticky sound.

The two of you were acting like animals in heat.

“A-ah! Shoto!” You mewl out, each of Shoto’s thrust hitting an undiscovered part of your insides. Spurred on by your voice, his pace further increases, until you’re both moving frantically. You gasp at his intensity, at the weight and heat of his body pinning you down.

“(Y/N)! I’m going to-”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, and his fluffy tail briefly brushes against you. Shoto’s body tenses up as he prepares to unload inside of you.

Shoto’s body spasms- including his tail. Waves of pleasure flood over you as his semen shoots full-force into your depths.

The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute before he slowly lays himself next to you, his feline features slowly disappearing as you try to catch your breath.

“L-look they disappeared with one whoosh.” You say in between pants and giggles, Shoto covering the two of you with your bed duvet, chuckling along with you/

“Next time, please label things properly and tell me if you added any sort of ingredient that could increasingly highten my sex drive.” He says with an exasperated sigh, yet satisfaction plastered all over his face as he looks at you lovingly. “I love you (Y/N). Happy anniversary… nya~” He whispers the last few words, shooting you a wink.

Your eyes widen, your mouth forming into an O like that one Chris Pratt meme. “Y-you just said…”

“Let’s h-have a nap and just have some late dinner instead.” He shushes you by planting a kiss on your forehead.

You were about to protest, but as soon as Shoto shut his eyes, you didn’t bother doing so anymore.

You plant a kiss on his knuckles, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too Sho. Happy anniversary.”

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