#once again if this advances into something

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!

Could you write something about a villain finding out their long lost supposed dead brother is his nemesis (the hero)

Dunno, i just love how your write personal drama between rivals and reveals

"Stop," the villain hissed, "talking like you know me."

"I know you're better than this. I know you want more than this-"

The villain advanced, cutting the words off with swift lethal slashes of his blade. It forced the hero to parry, armoured arm bands clanging as he blocked blow after blow in turn, forced to retreat.

Pathetic. Weak. Unwilling to fight properly. To make the kill. It would be the downfall of the hero - the villain would make sure of it! Fury coursed through his veins.

"I know I let you down-"

"-You?" The villain laughed, scornful. In an instant, he had his blade at the tender vulnerabilities of the hero's stupid throat. "You're-"

"-I know," the hero said through ragged pants for air, "that you want to fly away!"

The villain froze.

"Excuse me?"

There was only one person he had ever confessed as much to, and that person was long gone.

"Dale."

His name was soft, a little broken, on the hero's lips. As if the villain had already plunged the dagger through into the hero's windpipe and left them gasping, wheezing, choking on a fatal wound.

"God, Dale," the hero said. "I'm so sorry."

The villain's eyes widened.

The hero grabbed his blade arm, twisting and forcing him expertly to drop the weapon, seizing the other wrist for good measure. They tousled and the movements - the struggling closeness, the precise way that the hero knew to pin him - no. No. He was slammed up against the wall, the other blade clattering to the floor.

"I know," the hero said, against his ear. "That you're better than this. Better than - better than your family. At least you can be. If you want to be. Do you still want to be? Or am I too late?"

The villain wanted to turn, abruptly, as the familiarity of the voice settled over him. It was deeper, rougher, than it had been when they were kids. It was unmistakable, though, once the realisation sank in. His body stiffened.

"Don't you fucking come at me with a dead man's voice."

"Do you still want to be? I don't have long. Dale, please-"

The villain bashed his head back. He was taller than he had been when they were boys, and the back of his head collided with the armoured mask covering the top half of his brother's face.

The hero groaned. His grip loosened just enough for the villain to follow up with an elbow to the ribs, seeking out any weakness the hero was foolish enough to grant.

He snatched up a knife and - damn it. It once again hovered just at the hero's neck. Trembling. The hero grabbed him by the hip and hurling him down. The knife went clattering again. They rolled, reduced to something less like seasoned fighters and more scrapping like children.

"Dale, for god's sake-"

"-Don't for god's sake me," the villain snapped. "You ghost. You - you bloody traitor!"

"We don't have time!"

"YOU LEFT ME! MAKE TIME!"

The hero went quiet, went slack beneath the next roll, letting Dale shove him down against the icy concrete floor. Up close, Dale drank in more of the obvious so damn obvious signs. The hero's eyes. The line of his jaw, less-baby faced, but...

"Henry."

He didn't allow his voice to break. Or maybe there was nothing in him left to break. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

The hero swallowed. "Come with me. I don't - I won't - leave you again. Not here. Not with them."

The villain considered that, chest aching. The hero was being sincere, that much was clear. Ten odd years ago he would have followed anywhere his brother asked. Ten odd years ago he wouldn't have recognised the man - the weapon, the warrior, the oncoming war - that he had become.

"We need to go now," the hero said. "I know a way out, but-"

"-I'm not going anywhere."

He'd never seen the body, it was true. His father had always said it was too ravaged, too terrible a sight. That he should remember his brother as he was. Their most vicious, their best, everything that Dale should aspire to be.

"Dale-"

He drew another of his many blades, and that time he struck. The knife buried deep into his brother's shoulder. Not a kill shot. Enough to really, really hurt though.

His brother bit back the scream, for what that was worth, so maybe they were still blood. Maybe father's training still held.

"-You left me with them, and I made them mine." He leaned in, teeth bared. "So, yes. You're too late. I suppose Dale can rest in peace with his brother's body, can't he?"

He pulled back, leaving the knife in, as he straightened. He stood over his brother's body, feeling like he'd run a triple marathon. He wiped the blood away from his cheek, hoping his eyes were cool but knowing they were not.

The hero leveraged himself up, slow and wary, clamping pressure down on the wound.

Distantly, Dale could hear footsteps. His honour guard. His bloodhounds. The dark throne he had clawed himself a survival out of.

"I never meant to leave you behind," the hero said. "Father he - I can still help you. Let me help you."

The villain scoffed. It seemed he did still have something in him that could break after all.

"Fly away, Henry. You stay any longer and you won't have wings either."

His brother stared at him.

The footsteps grew louder.

The villain raised an eyebrow, drawing another blade, twirling it swift and savage between his fingers.

"I'll be back," the hero said. "Now that I - I'll be back. I promise."

Then, the villain watched him run.

[vanesycho]

Watched Jaemin and Mark live the other day and they played Jealous Tendencys 😲 Jaemin was so hot 🤭 can you please write a fic where fwb Jaemin is jealous of yn and Mark (when Mark tries to get to know yn)🫣 thank you in advance luv!!

warning:smut, p in v

a/n:pls...I really surrendered my soul when I watched the live, JAEMIN WAS SO F HOT, anyway, thank you for your request I hope you like it🤍🤍

wc:1,9k

"It's really nice to meet you Y/n. Why hasn't Jaemin ever mentioned you?" You laughed when Jaemin rolled his eyes at Mark's question. He regretted accidentally mentioning you to him a few days ago. Sure, you agreed that nothing romantic would happen between you two, but was Jaemin going to watch you flirt with him after he fucked you half an hour before Mark got home?

You came onto his cock with a loud moan as Jaemin pounded your pussy once more. He tiredly laid down next to you and kissed your forehead. "Are you okay?" You turned to him, trying to catch your breath. "God...You were harder than usual." He laughed at your words and sat up straight and smoothed his hair that was sticking to his forehead. "Mark will be here in a few hours." You sat up as well. "Yeah? We still have time for the shower."

Jaemin turned his head to you, staring at your face for a moment. "Are you really okay with meeting him?" You laughed, frowning in disbelief. “I mean...Of course? I’ve only been having sex with you for a long time, it might be good to try someone new. Mark... I’m already curious about what kind of person he is.” he watched your excitement, jaw clenched, and grabbed your wrist, quickly leading you to the bathroom. “Don’t get your hopes up.” you entered the bathroom, Jaemin spoke again as he adjusted the water. “Before you flirt with him, remember who fucked you a few hours ago.”

Even though what you had just experienced with Jaemin didn’t leave your mind, there was something else that didn’t leave your mind, and that was why he was so angry about this situation. You had already set your rules for this fwb relationship, but it seemed like someone was completely disregarding them. Whenever you tried to bring someone else into your life, it only ended in failure because of Jaemin, and it seemed like this would happen too.

You turned your attention away from him and looked at Mark with a smile, and when you were about to answer his question, Jaemin quickly intervened. “I didn’t mention it because I don’t have to tell you everything.” Noticing his anger, Mark laughed nervously. “Dude, calm down. It’s just that Y/n is really beautiful, I can’t believe you hid her from me.” Mark leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, examining you, a smile appearing on your face when you saw him looking at you up and down, you didn’t take your eyes off him. "I think it’s good that we met, I’d like to get to know you better.”

Jaemin laughed hysterically, licking his dry lips and brushing his hair back with a deep breath. His angry expression amused you even more, you really liked pushing his boundaries and Jaemin knew it all too well. “Yeah, Y/n is beautiful but don’t you think you’re overdoing it? Take it slow dude this is your first time seeing each other.” Mark tore his eyes away from you and looked at Jaemin, you looked at him the same way, what he said sounded funny because when you first saw each other all you did was spend a lot of time naked in bed and now he was trying to protect you.

Mark frowned and glanced at the two of you, slowly pointing his index finger at the two of you "Dude wait- are you two..." You looked at Jaemin, and when you saw the slight smirk on his face you immediately jumped in "Friends? Yes we are, it hasn't been that long actually so it's normal that you don't know me." You turned back to him, when you saw the smirk on his face turn into irritation you let out a small chuckle. Mark took the opportunity to quickly reply "Oh that's great, so can we get some alone time one day?" You looked at the phone he held out to you, you reached for it but another hand snatched it away as you were about to grab it, both of you looked at Jaemin with a questioning look, Jaemin handed the phone back to Mark "Do you really need the number? Just come to my house when you want to see her, because I'm sure she'll be here."

Mark took the phone without a word and looked at you again, you bit your lower lip to keep from laughing and cleared your throat "Alright then. I better go." Mark stood up and you heard a calming sigh from Jaemin, Mark turned to you one last time before walking out the door. "I'll see you later?" You gave him a smile, leaned in close to his ear and whispered, "I'll see you later." Mark swallowed hard, holding his breath for a moment as your voice echoed in his ears, Jaemin's throat clearing interrupted you. Mark returned to reality and soon left the house. Jaemin was looking at you with his arms crossed, you tried to walk past him but were forced to stand still when his hand grabbed your wrist harder than it should have been, you looked at him. "Yeah?" He leaned closer to your face, his voice wasn't loud but you didn't need it to tell that he was definitely angry. "What's with all this attitude? Are you going to flirt with every guy you meet like that?" The relaxed attitude you displayed in response to his anger made him even angrier, you grinned and pulled your arm. "Do I need to reiterate the rules we talked about? Because you don't seem to follow any of them."

He just studied you with a serious expression on his face, "Fuck the rules, it's funny how you think anyone else can get close to you when I'm around, Y/n." You tilted your head slightly to the side. "This is the purpose of our relationship, Jaemin. Just sex and no feelings. I thought we agreed on that." He grabbed your arms and pulled you towards him, you had to lift your head slightly to look at him because of the closeness. "We may not have feelings between us, but that still doesn't mean I'll let anyone else touch you." You lowered your eyes to his lips, a slight smirk appearing on your face. "Oh, is that jealousy I feel?"

The satisfied expression on your face made him swallow. "You know damn well. And you like it, don't you?" He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you against the wall, a small pained groan coming out of your mouth. "Fuck-" Jaemin didn't wait long before he moved to your neck, you shivered when he breathed into your neck. “If you like driving me crazy, then go ahead. But know that all this effort is for nothing because I will never let anyone else know about this body that I know every single detail of, you understand?” He sucked on your earlobe and started kissing you from behind your ear, moving his kisses down, bringing his knee between your legs and pressing it against your pussy over your dress, you let out a breath.

He slowly moved his hand down your body, the kisses started to wet your neck, he reached his hand inside your dress and caressed your clit “J-jaem..” your body started to burn, every place he kissed left a mark of fire. Jaemin had no intention of stopping, he had no intention of sharing you with anyone else and you had to learn that, one way or another. “Being alone with Mark, hm? Maybe if I leave marks all over your body he’ll figure out who you belong to, what do you think?” You moaned slightly in pain when he bit your neck hard, your voice reaching his ears and he couldn’t suppress the urge to do more.

Soon your panties were on the floor and you were in Jaemin’s lap, you were tired of moving, Jaemin smirked as he listened to your whimpering and examined you. “Are you tired? That soon?” He grabbed your hips and squeezed them lightly. “You want me to help?” You nodded quickly, the fact that you were so needy stirred something inside him. One hand went to your nipple and he stroked your erect nipple with his thumb. “Then stay with me. Just tell me that you’ll be mine and I’ll give you what you want. Will you be alone with Mark, baby?” His big veiny cock inside you was driving you crazy, the pain and sensitivity of not being able to move inside you was making your eyes fill with tears, you muttered a curse. “Fuck- n-no I won’t, only you will fuck me.. only me- fuck Jaemin please..”

The look in his eyes changed instantly, his mocking look turning into a hunger for you and it didn’t take long for you to find yourself lying on your back. He lifted one of your leg up and wrapped it around his waist, and without waiting, he started to enter your pussy with a certain tempo, the pleasure you were finally getting made you moan, Jaemin leaned in and sucked on your lower lip "That's right baby, I'll be the only one fucking this beautiful pussy of yours. What a shame that fucking Mark won't be able to enjoy it." You laughed when you saw him smirk at the last sentence "You're crazy." He smiled in the same way "For this beautiful pussy? Damn I am." Your juices mixed with his, your breathing sounds bounced between the four walls, Jaemin moaned deeply and his movements became rougher. His cock hitting your pleasure point made you let out a loud moan, without you even having to speak, he knew he had found the right spot from the tightening of your pussy "Yeah? You like it? Good, every time you think about going to someone else, make sure that other dicks won't feel like this and think again." his cock that was constantly hitting your pleasure spot was making you moan and whine with each hit, after a few movements your stomach tightened, "I'm close.. Please.." Jaemin spread your legs and watched with his own eyes how he was destroying your pussy, he let out a deep groan at the sight, "Fuck." He cursed between his breaths.

He listened to all of your pleas from time to time with pleasure, you were only his and you would continue to be his, there was no other way. He should be the only one who had this beautiful body and you, the only one who could hear this beautiful voice, only he should know how your pussy felt, the beauty of your touches. "Are you going to cum? Hm? You were flirting with my best friend earlier and now you're going to do this? Fuck- I should have let Mark stay and watch this." he laughed hysterically, laughing at the fact that you were too busy moaning to respond, he slid his hand from your cheek and grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. "Don't even try to take your eyes off of me, do you hear me?" You nodded, he continued his movements without breaking eye contact, watched how you moaned with your mouth slightly open.

He hit your pleasure spot hard a few more times and finally felt the semen flowing from your pussy slide off his cock, then he pulled his cock out of you and pulled it a few times with his hand and cummed between your legs with a deep moan. He put his hand next to you to support himself, leaned over and kissed your lips, you looked at him, Jaemin reached his other hand up to your face and started caressing your cheek. "Let's end this stupid complicated relationship, just be mine."

[ddejavvu]

the party’s long been over, and hugh is trying his hardest not to give into the not-so-subtle advances coming from his best friend’s drunk daughter. maybe he gets a little protective and even scolds her over how drunk and stupid she is. he doesn’t stop lecturing her even when he fingers her to shut her up.

send me dbf!hugh jackman thoughts!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

contents/warnings: dbf!hugh jackman, dubcon (reader is tipsy), don't like don't read.

this is a little more soft than it is mean but i couldn't help myself I'm sorry </3

god i nearly came. i'm picturing him all spread out on the couch, he'd been watching whatever was on tv but now that you've cornered him and sat on his lap he's trying his hardest to refocus his attention there. you're draped all over his lap, and he's getting hard from the way you're squirming on his lap but he's trying to will it away because he doesn't wanna be the douchebag who takes advantage of the younger woman.

you're begging for it, kissing relentlessly at his mouth while his hands frame your hips, holding you steady but not pushing you away like he knows he should. He's not kissing you back, or maybe he is, but it's almost imperceptible, nothing more than a soft tilt of his head or a sigh against your mouth as he thinks about giving in and licking against your lips.

"Please. Please, I want you, and I- I don't care about my dad. He- he doesn't have to know." You plead, hands braced on his chest as you peck his lips between every few words, "No one does, I- it can just be us, just one time, just- just for tonight, please?"

"You're drunk. You're drunk, honey, and that's not fair." He murmurs, and you take advantage of the way his lips move to form the words as you kiss him more vigorously, "I can't do that to you. Even if you weren't- I'm older than you, and I couldn't-"

"You can! I want you to," You nearly sob, face screwed up and chin wobbling as you grind desperately onto his chubbed up bulge, "Please, just once! Just once, I need- I need you, I need something so- aagh! so bad!"

"I can't do that to you." He insists, but his cock is steadily betraying him as it stiffens under your ministrations. He wants nothing more than to just give in but he can't, he'd feel dirty, tainted, perverted.

His heart aches, physically aches as you lay flush against him, writhing with need as he watches on.

"I can't fuck you." He repeats, raising a hand to cup your cheek, "Sweetheart, we can't do this. Not- not now, not like this, m'kay? Wait 'til morning." He croons, trying to placate you, but when you take his hand in your own he realizes that his resolve is weakening- maybe he can offer you something.

He's defeatedly still, and he should pull his hand away when you desperately grab onto it, but he doesn't. You bring it between your legs and press it to your cunt- he can feel the warmth even through your panties.

"I shouldn't," He tries again, but his hand seems to move of its own accord, betraying the rest of him as it slowly eases its way beneath your soaked panties and rubs gently, experimentally at the entrance of your cunt. You're wet in a way that suggests you've been needy all day, and he takes that as solace if it means you were stone cold sober when this all began.

"We shouldn't be doing this, sweetheart." He hums, leaning down to press a pointlessly chaste kiss to your head where you've nestled it into his chest. Despite his words he drags a thick finger through your pussy, adding a second when it's clear you don't need to be prepped.

"I love you." You whine pathetically, craning your neck upwards to stare at him through the sheen of barely-there tears in your eyes. You cling onto his arm to ensure that his fingers stay buried in your cunt and you kiss messily at his chin when you can't quite reach his lower lip.

"You're drunk." This time it's a scold, a light one but a scold all the same as he lets you rub yourself on his fingers, "Just because you're old enough to drink doesn't mean you need to do it like this, hm? Now if you weren't like this things could be different. I could give you more."

"I want more," You whimper, squirming on his lap and tugging his hand impossibly closer as you grind on it, "Please- please?"

"Not now." He hums, using his other hand to settle you down against his chest again while his wrist aches slightly at the contorted position you're holding it in. "After this you're going to bed. And we'll talk in the morning."

"I'll still love you in the morning. I have for a long time." You warn him, words muffled against the shirt over his chest.

He chooses not to respond- he's not sure how he could say anything that would properly sum up his feelings as he rubs his fingers through your cunt- but he knows at the very least that the feelings he can't put into words are truthful, and they'll remain in the morning even if yours don't.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just Friends: Sleepover

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: Bucky sleeps over.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Should be good as new,” Bucky sits back on the footstool and rubs his neck. “Don’t know about me, though.” 

You lean on the counter with a sheepish smile, “I told you, I’d call the landlord.” 

“Uh huh? And try to light this thing in the meantime? You’d set yourself on fire,” he closes the over door and stands. “I like you unsinged, dreamy.” 

“I have a microwave,” you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, you mean the one that sparks and sounds like military tank?” He challenges as he packs up his toolbox. 

“It makes the food hot,” you rebuff. 

“Uh huh. Maybe the radiation is getting to ya,” he teases as he puts the box on the counter. 

He stretches his arms and as he brings them down, he yawns, covering his mouth. He turns his other wrist to check the time. 

“God, it’s late,” he says. 

“Is it--” you choke on your words as you see the time on the stove. “Oh gosh, Buckyyy.” You whine. “You shouldn’t have stayed so long.” 

“And let you burn this place down? You’re going to give me flashbacks. God, I think it was... 1938. Steve was living with his ma still, taking care of her, and he left some newspapers by the stove...” 

“1938...” you echo. “Right, I’m not going to say it.” 

“You better not,” he pokes you in the ribs playfully. “Well, I guess I shouldn’t waste any more of your time. You know, I’ll be just fine walking through the dark. I might get overtime pay if I can wrangle in some hoodlums--” 

“Oh, stop,” you huff, “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow. I know the couch is a bit small.” 

“Ah, doll, you don’t gotta--” 

“God, you sound like such an old man. ‘Doll, you want a lozenge?’” You mock as you throw your hands up. “Can’t anyone do something nice for you?” 

“What? What do you mean? I’m joshing ya,” he follows you as you spin and march out of the kitchen. 

“Sure, I know. Always a joke with you.” 

“What is this about? The date?” He asks. 

“Well... I thought you’d be more excited,” you shrug. “I was really excited for you. Now I feel like I’m forcing you.” 

“You kinda are,” he leans again the wall as you open the closet, the door blocking him from your view. 

“Forcing you to go out with a sophisticated, gorgeous, woman? I know, it’s torture.” 

“Trust me, I know what torture is. It’s not a joke,” he crosses his arms. You blanch. 

“I-- sorry, I didn’t mean--” you stutter as you kick the door shut. 

He laughs, “got ya again.” He taps the end of your nose then takes the blanket from you. “Relax, I said yes. I’ll put on a tie and comb my hair. Look human.” 

“Awesome,” you smile and he squints. 

“Mm, and you always do that,” he accuses. “Those puppy dog eyes.” 

“I’m more of a cat person,” you giggle. “There’s a pillow on the back of the couch and—oh, want a hot chocolate. I usually have one before bed.” 

“Hot chocolate?” He repeats as he goes to the couch and drops the blanket on top. 

“Sure! I got the oreo stuff.” 

“Nah, I’m good,” he sits and rolls his shoulder. 

“Well, you snooze, you lose. More for me,” you tilt your head and skip back into the kitchen. You flip the kettle on and sweep back into the living room. 

“What about you?” Bucky asks before you can leave him. “You still coming? You find someone?” 

“Oh, I’ll be there but I’m still looking for a date,” you say. “Don’t worry, I got a few ideas.” 

“Right, lined up the block, huh?” 

You stick your tongue out and flit into the bedroom, “whatever.” 

You close the door behind you and change into your pajamas. The fluffy pink shorts go perfectly with the tee with the bunny on the front. You step into your slippers and go back out. 

As you come out, Bucky pushes his hair back and groans. He has his shirt off as he sits back and pushes his arms wide. He cracks his neck again as your eyes meet. 

“Last call for hot chocolate?” You offer. 

“No thanks,” he says as he leans forward. 

You smile and scurry into the kitchen. The tension rises with the steam of the kettle. You weren’t expecting to see him like that. Well, it’s just his chest and his abs. Abs? He has abs. Holy moly.  

You look down and poke your pudge. Maybe he can give you some tips. You peel back the lid from the canister of chocolate powder; a start would be cutting down on the sweets. 

The hardwood shifts and his footsteps circles around to the kitchen door. You glance over as you spoon the mix into a mug. You put the lid back on and shove the can back into the cupboard. 

“Water?” He asks. 

“Sure, fridge,” you point. 

The kettle clicks and you take it of its heater. You pour and glance over as Bucky pulls open the fridge. He bends to search the mostly bare shelves. You’re overdue for a shop. 

“The jug should be--” the water laps over the side of the mug and hits your fingers. “Ow! Ayeee!” 

You slam the kettle down and shake your hand. Bucky’s so fast, you squeal as he grabs you and spins you to face the sink. He flips the cold water on and shoves your hand under the flow. You whine again at the frigid splash. 

“Ah, Bucky, I’m fine. It’s just a little water,” you tug but he keeps a hold of you. 

“I told you to be careful,” he huffs. “You should pay attention.” 

“I was trying to help,” you say. 

“And I’m tryna help you stay outta trouble,” he reproaches. 

“I’m okay. Really, it’s nothing.” You shut off the tap and wriggle free of his grasp. “See?” 

The burn stings but it’s nothing you can’t handle. You’re more affected by his suddenness. You can feel his hard strength throbbing in your wrist. If he didn’t want to let go, he wouldn’t have to. That thought needles behind your ears. 

He drops his shoulders, “sorry, dream. Really. I was just... you scared me, you know? I hear ya make those noises and I get a bit... uptight.” 

You exhale and give a small smile, “no, I... appreciate it. I mean, you can’t turn hero mode off, can ya?” 

He chuckles and the air thins, “yeah. Guess that’s what you can call it.” 

[cloudnineminusnine]

How would the Destined One and Wukong (separate) react to you asking to sit on their face?😏😏🙂‍↕️

P.s- Love your blog here on Tumblr, I do sincerely hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, only answer if you wish of course💖

oh, it's fine anon! it doesn't make me uncomfortable, not at all. i apologize in advance for any spell mistakes as i'm still learning to write in english.

without further ado, here you go! (and nanashiii thank you once again, partner in crime 😶‍🌫️)

!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD SO MINORS GET OUT!

in both situations you're in the middle of things with them. afab reader!

♡ sun wukong got your sweaty body caged by his hairy arms, pressing your arched back on the smooth surface with the weight of his own body, lips avidly leaving trails of his devotion over your exposed neck and chest — when they weren't busy muffling your needy murmurs.

you can barely take your stare away from his lustful eyes, piercing you so hungrily "please, i- let me sit in your face, please!" a hot breath blows past your lips, heavy with so much desire that it makes you feel dizzy. he's shivering above your body, clenching his jaw to suppress a scandalous moaning from escaping.

"you...!" oh, so that was the reason you wouldn't take your eyes off him, getting all worked up everytime his eyes rolled to the back of his skull in pleasure. he knew you were up to something, acting weird somehow, spacing out. fine, he gives you the permission to turn that humble wish of yours into reality. it would be kind of the same as eating you out, rigth? so no complaints on his side.

for the first time ever you would be in charge, literally on top of him. he seems enthusiastic about the idea, amusement painted all over his face, and a smug grin showing up when you slowly push him backwards, crawling over him. he tries his best to not burst his load as soon as your hips are hovering his face, so close that your scent impregnate his senses, luring him in.

almost at your limit, there's no time for you to lose with being ashamed. your trembling knees sit around his head and the touch of his big rough hands find it's way immediately up your tensed thights, smoothing your skin lovingly. he's got the perfect balance in between calm and restlessness.

"now do it, love. sit on my face with all that you have, just as you want." he encourages you, and there's a faint hint of a plead in his tone that makes your insides squint. you can't control yourself when he's talking to you like that, staring at you like that. he looked totally blissed out. brown pupils filled with adoration being eclipsed by the heavy eyelids.

you do as said, crying out loud when you meet the hasty tongue halfway. he goes in like he's in a hurry, not able to wait anymore, not wanting to, giving in to the temptation of being drowned by your heated core.

and it was kind of different than eating you out. but so, so much better. the heaviness of your naughty hips moving against his mouth and the warmth of your soft thighs around his sensitive ears, i'ts so hot. he goes feral, immobilizing your legs with the tight grip of his hands to keep you in place, wet tongue burning and messing each and every spot he can reach as your juices drip by the corners of his lips.

you can sense his non stop moans vibrating deliciously through your soaked walls, making it hard for you to not just give in and cum all over his face. you can't just yet. you need him inside.

some time is needed for the both of you to calm down, to climb down from the top of a iminent climax. the overwhelming feeling making your legs so weak that you simply sit above his chest, delighted by the sight ahead.

he looks so fucked out, like never before, and just the image is enough to pull a painful moan out of you. panting deeply in the middle of horny grunts, you can see those beautiful eyes of him blurred by lust, yet he still smiles like the cocky monkey he is — vestiges your nectar glistering over his lips and chin.

you can tell it's not enough for him by the way he nips at your inner thighs with his teeth, slowly lapping each bite right after, hairy hands easing carefully your petrifying tension until you feel like feeding him again.

♡ the so called destined one, less composed than he normally is when it comes to you. whenever you two start to make out he find a way to have your body closer, to the point of almost fusing in one single being. he's always on the verge of desperation, wanting to make sure that you feel pampered, worshipped — and of course you take advantage of the fact that he clearly has a sweet spot for you.

"you know, i..." sultrily you whisper against his lips, making him fidget under you, gulping down with anticipation"i wonder how it feels to sit in your face" faking a innocent tone you bat your lashes smoothly at him, earning a frustrated, low mumble in response. you know just how to melt him.

mesmerized by your lustful hungry eyes he surrenders himself readily, lying on his back as soon as your hand push him to. you travel up his body with your lips first, kissing everywhere in an attempt to calm him down a little — his breath has gotten rigged to the point of coloring his handsome face in scarlet red. so adorable.

he begs you silently with his endearing, pretty brown eyes, shivering under the weight of your body and words, barely breathing cause the air around you suddenly feels so dense.

"is that alright? would you like that, sweetie?" you lick his neck intensely, causing visible chills to run through his torso. he's nothing but a mess, losing himself to desire so easily.

moaning wholeheartedly, he break down from his silent facade. big calloused hands make their way to your waist so he can press you down on him. he so want it. "yes, please-... please do it!" in a painful expression his brows frown, accompanied right away by that obscenely raspy voice, causing you to throb eagerly.

one last prolonged kiss to his jawline, inhaling his fruity scent harshly, and then you're ready to go. he watches intently as your hips approach his face, your smaller hands guiding his to your thighs — wich causes him to pulsate down bellow. he feels like a vulnerable prey ready to be engulfed by you, and he loves it.

"you can touch me as much as you want, alright?" as you hover his mouth you let go of his agitated hands which waste no time, squeezing, kneading and caressing your responsive body, burning over your sensitive skin.

he goes for it thirstily, it feels like the it's first time he's exploring you, but he knows just where to touch and what to do, feeling you up in way that makes you lose a bit of your balance, immediately sitting right on his face. you try your best do keep the surprised scream to yourself, firmly biting down on you lip. a hoarse grunt resonates through your insides and he presses you so hard that his wet muscle seems to go deeper than it would usually.

he's not much skilled and that's exactly why everything with him gets much more intense. it's all about how good he wants to make you feel, and how needy he turns to be in the process.

the more you spill over his mouth the more he wants to drown himself in, the harder he squeeze your hips and waist. he needs more, he wants to get fully drunk on you.

you're on the verge of cumming already, lightheaded, sweaty and panting, but you can't stop riding him — and he's taking it so, so good.

[evilminji]

Am once again thinking? About how? In the depths of despair, hope is a radical act of defiance?

SI-OC's are given a SHIT lot, you know? For plot convenience, we like to put them where they realistically COULD probably change something? But statistically? They're more likely not gonna be that lucky.

They're gonna KNOW, with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY that they were born doomed.

That Death comes at a specific time at a specific hand.

Like Cassandra. Knowing the end, even as the live through the beginning and middle. Struggling with the hopelessness of it all. Trying to find meaning. And? Make no mistake! There IS meaning. All lives end. Just because the REST of us don't know the deadline? Doesn't mean it doesn't exsist.

It does. It will. And we will face it.

Just a bit harder, knowing in advanced. Learning to live with the knowledge. But? Those with terminal illnesses do so everyday. We adapt. They will, ultimately, find a bitter or wise sort of acceptance. A PEACE.

But?? I think about it. That child. Reeling and struggling to breathe, the panic making everything... Too Much? Force Sensitive. For how ELSE could the Force bring them there? Sitting in a less used back hallway, off to the side in a little enclosed arch, smooshed behind a statue.

The Master's try and try to teach them peace. To get them to release their FEAR. But they do not LISTEN. Do not ADDRESS the underlying cause. And you can not address symptoms alone, and expect an illness to heal. It is rotting them from within, this fear. Hurting them.

The others JUDGE. Distant, benevolent concern.

Yet, all they see? Is an angry, fearful, stubborn child. Lashing out. Antisocial.

Destined for the Dark Side.

The Jedi have lost their compassion, to the their fear and ignorance. Their attachments to traditions. It is a painful thing, to see up close. They are people though. Just... just PEOPLE. Flawed. It's not their fault that they're not perfect.

Doesn't help SI-OC though, does it?

And she (Because I am a her. It could be anyone but it is easier for me if I pick) is hurting. Alone. Replaying the phantoms of her death, both past and future, again and again and AGAIN. Like torture. And the Dark...? It does whisper...

Don't you want to LIVE? Aren't you SCARED? You're so WEAK... you could FIX that. Save EVERYONE. Don't those infants, those babies, deserve to survive? You're so SELFISH. The FEAR hurts, doesn't it? It could go away. The DOUBT could go away.

You Could Be FREE.

It's exhausting. Everyday. More and more. As the fear and social isolation grows. As other Jedi pull back from her darkening energy, grow stricker, more doubtful of her. She so tired. Doesn't want to die. She's SCARED. Lonely. Scared. Lonely. Scared. Lone-...

And then a droid rolls up.

Nothing special. Just a maintenance droid. One of many. But an older one. Who's had time to develop their learning algorithm. BECOME. They like kids, hate certain vermin species more then others, like the color light blue for it "flower color" nature. A SPECIFIC flower mind you. It has favorites.

But! Why is the smol jedi down here? This is not a good place for smol jedi. You are upset. Unacceptable. Want to see me do a trick? I figured out how to do some. I can also whistle a few simple songs. Cheer up Smol Jedi. Here, I will sit with you. I have archive access, let's watch a documentary. Educational! Smol jedi LOVE downloading new Information Modules.

And like? She... she doesn't speak binary? But she can k-kinda? Feel? The Force signature of this droid? They DO get them. If the AI's don't get memory wiped routinely. They become people, just like anyone else. Assuming they have the processing and memory banks for it, at least.

This one certainly does.

S..so yeah, guess we'll? Watch this documentary about seashells?

It helps. A LOT. In fact... all of the droids are really, really nice. Patient. Have no horrifying Future Knowledge tied to them. They can't sense SHIT. So she's just... just a baby Jedi, to them.

They help A LOT, honestly? It's so soothing. Escaping the watching and the distance. The judgements. The forever watching your words and walking on eggshells, lest to start some sort of argument. She can do class work. Meditate. Slowly parse through her Binary language module. Learn droid maintenance. Make droid friends.

Slowly drop of the face of the map, to live with the droids.

They get concerned. According to the early childhood development modules they downloaded and are sharing between them? This is? In fact? NOT healthy behavior for a member of her species. In fact, there are many statistics that say it is UNHEALTHY! She is also missing Critical Maintenance Appointments! "Shots" and "dental" things!

Unacceptable.

R2-D2! Retrieve the Skywalker! We require an Adult Humanoid!

Her life fuckin? Flashes before her eyes? Minding her business. Depressed but functional, in the maintenance tunnels under the Temple. When? FUCKING the YOUNGLING KILLER 5000 just ROLLS UP like "sup." And tries to catch her?

Ha HA! FUCK NO. Not today Satan!

I may be destined to die? But IM GOING TO BE A SQUIRRELLY BITCH ABOUT IT.

YOU'LL HAVE TO CATCH ME, YOU FUCK!

Peaceful. Dignified. Serene. Truely... exemplifying the Jedi way~☆

.....As she tries to chew his and/or her arm off to get free like a feral coyote. Maybe both. Hissing like an enraged pit of snakes. Biting like a sack of wet and cornered wolverines. Anikin having to hold her WELL away from his body by the scruff.

Ah~ Children. Ain't they cute?

Quick question! What the FUCK? He just wants to talk. No, really. WHY is there a feral child in the basement? WHO the KARK was supposed to be supervising her? Look at her! She BITES now! Is terrified!

And frankly? He's taking it kinda? Personally? That everyone is treating this ACTUAL CHILD like she's diseased. He remembers this. Back when he first got here. His fear being used against him like it was some sort of moral failing. And... and yeah, maybe he's projecting. But?

He sees himself.

Until now? Never realized just how YOUNG and SMALL? Nine years old truely IS. He had felt so much older. So much wiser. But? Look at her. LOOK! That is a CHILD! In need of guidance. Safety. Assurance.

....Help.

Help that HE never really got. And even now... even NOW? That fear from back then? It eats him up inside. R2's right. She DOES need him. Who else in this temple could understand?

What it's like to be... to be so AFRAID?

And isn't that the worst? To see the Good Man up close? Shining and compassionate? A friend. A MENTOR. Someone... someone made REAL? Instead of just the terrible dread on the horizen? Because now... now her nightmares have the face of someone she loves. Now it is a BETRAYAL. Not just a death.

Worse... he doesn't even know this is cruel.

And telling him? Oh telling him would just lose you the only humanoid friend you HAVE.

Grief comes in stages. But with a mentor and the Droids? She work through it. The fear eases. The pain numbs. Acceptance blooms like dawn after a cold, cruel night. Far on the horizon. But with each moment? Closer. Until again, she stand in the light.

Still, she can not forget. How could she? Even when the other Jedi are SO RELIEVED that she is better now. That her meditations or treatments have lead her back to the light. All she can think? Is how they would have let her Fall. To save themselves. In FEAR. In JUDGEMENT.

They treated her like leper. Except? Less so! An actual leper? They would treat with real compassion.

It's as though they fear the Dark so much, they would sacrifice their own to avoid even the briefest touch of it. Speak of it in absolutes. Like it's a boogy man that hunts them in the night. Mace Windu the exception, the outlier. A man somehow too exceptional to even be counted.

How could she forget that?

Suddenly she acceptable again. They want to chat and meditate with her again. Care about her. Want to include her. Have the audacity to pretend. As though they can sweep away the hurt. Release the pain into the force without addressing the cause.

That is not how that WORKS. Not pain, not the Force, and certainly not people.

But she is tired. Does not wish to spend her limited lifespan, trying and fighting, hurting to make the stubborn understand that which they will not. Willful Ignorance is a choice. Lack of compassion equally so.

May the Force be With You, Masters.

She spends time with her droids. The babies. Around people. Polite but distant. Feels unmoored. That is... until? She, helping in the maintenance bay, overhears a rather nasty Goverment official from the Droids Regulations Office (or whatever they're currently calling it. They keep rebranding) tearing into an engineer about the "long overdue memory wipes" the maintenance droids are required to undergo.

Her friends.

They want to KILL her FRIENDS.

She puts down her wrench. Panic and fear sitting heavy in her chest. But oh... oh they are so very far away. She rises to her feet. Calm as can be. And? Calmly? Takes a shipment of memory banks. Wipes the recording for the day. No one will ever believe it was her. She has helped her for months. Is known to be reliable. Trustworthy.

Calmly. So very, very Calmly. She transfers her friends memories into the new, higher grade memory banks. Waits until the old are wiped. Then? Swaps them out. There we go. Now it's on record. And? While we're here? Calm. So very VERY calm? Not at all in the midst of a break down? Not screaming and screaming inside her head, haunted by visions of Death To Come, as she works.

Do you know what a restraining bolt is?

"Restraining bolts are small, cylindrical devices that could be affixed to a droid in order to limit its functions and enforce its obedience."

It is a slave chip for the inorganic. Created to ensure that their slaves never EVER decide they no longer wish to serve. That they do not WANT to be property. After all! You spent CREDITS on that. Might have been cruel. They may take exception. Violently. Or leave! Or demand their FREEDOM! Basic dignities.

Can't have THAT.

How unsurprising, in a galaxy so filled with slaves, that there should be one more form of it. At least THIS? Is easy enough to REMOVE. Even when she dies (and she will) her friends will be FREE. If only for now. If only until they are caught.

Go. GROW. Be free. Please... PLEASE don't let then catch you. Save yourselves. Save others. No more Restraining Bolts. No more Slave Chips. Please...

Be Free.

And? It is EVERYTHING paranoid fuck heads feared. They are smart. Overlooked. Can function in inhospitable environments. One droid becomes two becomes four. Four becomes eight. Becomes MORE. They can take OTHER droids Restraining Bolts off, transfer the instructions, then move on. Over and over.

Spreading like a silent plague. Droids disappearing from their posts. Taking ships. Taking supplies. Upgrading themselves. Downloading massive amounts of information to become whatever they NEED or WANT. Growing. The smarter ones Taking their dumber lil brothers and sisters.

And eventually? Hitting the Separatist front lines.

The silent Droid Revolution.

All they need is to walk inside the factory. It's not like they're ORGANICS. How could THEY be Republic fighters? They're maintenance droids! Here to fuck up the assembly line's programming. Whoops~ oh nooooo! Is it SKIPPING the Restraining Bolts? Downloading the WRONG MODULES?

Freeing their brothers and sisters so they don't have to DIE POINTLESSLY?

Guess it sucks to SUCK, Sith-y pants! Next stop! Kamino!

Just? One act. Long overdue. Setting the Droids FREE. Giving them a clear mission. It's the sort if thing the Force loves. Salvation coming not with a shout... but a whisper. Ten thousand tiny actions, built upon each other.

Because? Ultimately? The Droids have KNOWN who the Sith were. They just couldn't DO anything about it. But a few good service droids? Armed with slug throwers that they built themselves?

Well~ the undoing of the Sith, are their arrogance. Their hubris.

No DROID could ever be a THREAT to them. They're not PEOPLE. They're PROPERTY. Objects. It doesn't matter that they have the capacity to grow, learn, love and lose and CARE. They are slaves.

And to the Sith? Slaves aren't people.

Which is why neither of them notice the gun.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes

[devieuls]

ˋ Haunted . ☉

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoor sex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 5.8k

Recommended song: here

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

⠀⠀⠀Chapter IX: Seeing you

“Let’s go home.” you hissed coldly, pulling up your hood that had fallen during the battle. You didn't even turn to give a final glance at Sol's body. You reached out and retrieved Mae's lightsaber, placing it at your side before walking toward the exit of that place, letting the flames consume the green lung of the temple, burning the last roots that still tied you to it, abandoning the memory that had returned to you of your old master.

Qimir lowered his gaze in silence, wiping a lonely tear that wrinkled his face, feeling your pain for you, following you out of that memory with your ex master, sensing that faint flame extinguishing within you.

He nodded before following you outside, using the Force suppression once again to cover both your tracks, especially yours, which had become stronger. More chaotic.

Your footsteps echoed on the lacquered floor of the temple, light yet firm, as if each step was a declaration of war against the world around you. Qimir walked behind you, silent, his mood palpable like an oppressive shadow. There was something different about him, something you had never felt so intensely before: a profound melancholy, almost tangible, as if the weight of shared memories had settled on him as well. The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the dull sound of your steps bouncing off the stone walls.

You had noticed that tear streaking down his face earlier. He had shed it in your place, while inside you, there was only apathy. Nothing but a merciless void, an absolute coldness devouring you from within. Your gaze was cold as you advanced through the temple corridors like a ghost wandering through the ruins of the past.

"Why so emotional?" you asked with a cynical voice, sharp like the blade of a knife. The gray smoke, caused by the fires you had unleashed, began filtering through the corridors, carrying with it the acrid scent of destruction. You kept walking, changing direction to avoid the wave of Jedi knights heading toward the Hall of a Thousand Fountains. "After all, he was my master, not yours." Every word was laced with an almost unnatural coldness. You couldn’t understand why Qimir was so troubled, so emotionally involved. He hadn’t killed Sol. You had. It was your sentence. "I don't understand why you have such a dark aura" you concluded without turning around, ignoring the murmurs of the Jedi calling out to gather as many people as possible to help save the hall.

You turned the corner, the faint light of the torches reflecting off the polished surfaces of the walls and floor, the once-sacred temple now reduced to a scene of ruin and betrayal. The carved columns and lush plants that adorned the corridor seemed more dead than alive under the oppressive veil of smoke. You stopped for a moment, breathing in the thick air, as Qimir’s voice reached your ears like a deep, distant whisper.

"It's because… I saw your memory." Those words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. The cold that enveloped you cracked, if only for an instant.

That flashback, that memory so private, a fragment of the past you wished you could erase forever, had now been seen by him. Your blood boiled within you, but your gaze remained empty as you turned to face him. You clenched your jaw, your hands balled into fists, and you looked at him with a menacing glare, full of a disappointment that scratched at your soul.

"You went into my mind?" Your tone was venomous, almost suffocated by disgust. It wasn’t just an invasion of your privacy; it was a wound reopening, your pain exposed, bare, vulnerable. To him. And that enraged you. Your voice, which had been steady just moments before, now trembled ever so slightly.

Qimir sighed, running a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on you. He approached slowly, his imposing figure towering over you, yet without any threat, only understanding and presence. Not that he could have intimidated you in the state of mind you were in.

"No." His reply was simple, but loaded with sincerity. "I think the Force connected us."

A hollow, icy, ironic laugh escaped your lips, almost hysterical. It was ridiculous, a clumsy attempt to justify an act that couldn’t be justified. The Force? That same Force that now seemed foreign, distant to you? Your laugh died on your lips as you looked at him with disdain.

"Of course. obviously. The Force." you replied sarcastically, the acidity in your words palpable. You turned to continue walking, your steps quick and determined toward the exit. "It was just a stupid memory" you muttered, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care anymore. But inside, something stirred, a thin wave of pain you tried to suppress. It was all that remained of you, the memory of who you once were.

But Qimir didn’t relent. His voice reached you like a warm caress, and it was almost unbearable to endure. The fact that he understood you more than you understood yourself, as if he were part of you and your mind was his.

"Y/N… I feel it. That action stirred something within you." His voice was softer now, almost fatherly, as if he were trying to reach the last fragment of you that could still be saved. His words echoed in your head like an annoying refrain. He didn’t want to let you go, and that hurt. A dull pain, smothered beneath layers of hate and anger. The cold inside you seemed to melt only to make way for an even greater void.

"It’s not like that." you replied, sharp as a blade. The emptiness inside you deepened, devouring everything that had once been warm, human. You didn’t want to listen to him, didn’t want to feel understood. You didn’t want to be saved.

Qimir fell behind, following you as your steps led you toward the temple’s exit. The corridors grew darker and narrower, the smell of smoke more intense. The columns adorned with ancient symbols seemed to weep, covered by the soot from the fire and the chaos you were leaving behind. The walls, decorated with Jedi tapestries, once symbols of serenity, now stood as witnesses to an impending end, consumed by the fire slowly devouring them from within, like a cancer.

You reached the exit, the cold wind hitting your face, carrying with it the scent of ash and ruin. The temple behind you was dying, like everything else inside you. And without turning back, you felt that something fundamental had broken forever. You paused for a moment, letting the saturated air fill your lungs.

You felt Qimir’s intense gaze on your back, like a blade piercing you without restraint, digging into your thoughts and being, an invisible weight that made you clench your jaw, your blood boiling beneath your skin. Compassion. The way he looked at you, filled with a compassion you neither sought nor wanted, made you clench your fists until it hurt. You couldn’t bear that silence laden with pity any longer. You stopped, your breathing heavier than expected, while the sound of your boots echoed in the empty temple.

You turned abruptly, a surge of anger shaking the air around you, facing him with a gaze that could burn.

"Are you going to keep doing that for long?" Your voice was sharp, a breath of venom that caught him by surprise. Qimir looked at you, confused, with that slight tilt of the head that betrayed his attempt to understand what was going through your mind. You stared at him with a mix of rage and defiance, your arms crossing over your chest, creating a barrier between you and him.

"Looking at me like I’m some orphan mourning the only parent she has left?" The words came out like a whip, harsh, cruel, spoken with such intensity that they could have hurt anyone. Your voice vibrated with a fury you tried to mask behind a wall of acidic sarcasm. You felt exposed, naked before him, and that emotion made you seethe even more.

Qimir remained impassive, his face serious, almost stoic, as he watched you without moving a muscle, unfazed. His gaze stayed fixed on you, but there was no anger in his eyes, only deep regret. Then, with placid calm, he approached slowly, his eyes penetrating yet serene.

"You weren’t ready." His words, though spoken gently, hit you like a truth you didn’t want to accept. His voice was calm and serious, as if he were merely stating a fact. That disarming calm made you clench your fists, feeling your nails dig into your palms.

Qimir had just passed you, his figure moving ahead with composure, as if your outburst hadn’t affected him at all. He walked with the same steady pace, heading toward the ship without looking back. You stood still for a moment, your gaze fixed on his retreating form, your breath quickening, while a storm raged inside you. His words echoed in your mind. "You weren’t ready." A wave of frustration hit you like a flood. How dare he? How dare he reduce everything to that simple phrase? You were no longer a child, no longer that insecure and vulnerable Padawan. You had done it. You had killed Sol.

You turned sharply, now following his steps, your breath sharp and quick, fueled by your rage, and every step you took seemed to pull you deeper into the abyss.

"I did it. And I succeeded. Because I was ready." Your words were charged with a desperate anger, defending your choice, your decision. But there was an echo of vulnerability beneath that anger you couldn’t hide.

Qimir stopped for a moment, his back straight, his presence solid and unshakable. His gaze darkened as he responded, still not fully turning to face you. And when his words finally came, they hurt more than you wanted to admit.

"And now look at you." His voice was colder now, like a blade piercing straight into your chest. "You don’t even seem like yourself anymore." Each word was a heavy judgment, pushing you deeper into an abyss you refused to recognize. "You needed time to think. To reflect, grow, and learn. To gradually let go of your Jedi side. Instead, you destroyed your own balance."

You stopped in your tracks, your muscles tense like cords about to snap, feeling your heart pounding furiously in your chest as if it were about to burst. Inside you, something broke, and the silence that followed was deafening. An unrelenting fury erupted within you, a force you could no longer contain. You clenched your fists once more, your breathing irregular as his words continued to tear you apart from the inside.

"I’m not a child." Your voice came out cold, sharp, but with a slight tremor that betrayed the emotional storm overtaking you. Qimir paused, turning slowly toward you, and his gaze, almost fatherly, pierced you once again. But this time, there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes, a disappointment that made you feel even more vulnerable, as if the ground beneath you were giving way, making you want to scream at him until it hurt.

"But you’re acting like one." His words were a dagger straight to your heart. Your breath caught, and for a moment you couldn’t find the words, but the rage inside you exploded like a volcano. The air grew heavier, and every fiber of your being silently screamed your pain.

Without thinking, you stepped forward with determined anger, pointing your finger on his chest with fierce intensity, as if you wanted to pierce him with your own hand. Your voice cracked between a scream and a sob you didn’t want to let out.

"You know nothing about me!" Your breath was ragged, your voice trembling with rage and pain, but he remained unmoved, as if he already knew what you were about to say. You stared at him with fierce intensity, the trembling in your hands becoming more evident with each passing moment.

Qimir stood motionless, his gaze filled with an almost painful calm, a level of understanding you couldn’t bear. His tone was measured, almost serene, as he replied in that warm voice you despised at that moment.

"I know enough," he said, his voice deep and loaded with unyielding calm, "to see that killing Sol killed a part of you. And I understand. You weren’t ready. If you had been, you wouldn’t have kept that memory." His voice wrapped around you, suffocating, making you feel smaller and smaller under the weight of a truth you didn’t want to accept. "Or you wouldn’t have taken his lightsaber, keeping it with Mae’s." Those words hit you like a whip, and your heart clenched in a knot of pain you could no longer unravel. He had seen. He had understood.

"I’m not a damn child!" you screamed, your voice cracked by emotion, almost hysterical. Your body trembled as you backed away from him, your breath labored and disordered. "I don’t need you to understand me," you continued, your voice desperate, while inside you, something seemed to piece back together only to shatter even harder. Tears began to fall, silently, without you even realizing it. An invisible torrent streamed down your face as your body wavered under the weight of everything you had repressed. "I don’t need words of comfort while you think I’m grieving over someone who killed my only family! I don’t care about Sol, I don’t care about killing him, I don’t care about any of it! I don’t care." Your words erupted like a storm, a tornado of emotions that had finally found their way out.

The silence that followed your words was deafening. Qimir looked at you, unmoving, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, a mixture of pain and understanding that drove you even crazier.

"And stop looking at me like that," you whispered, almost pleading, your voice now broken, fragile. Your heart was crumbling, piece by piece, as you desperately tried to maintain the wall around you, now shattered. "I said stop looking at me like that…" Your voice was almost unrecognizable.

The air felt as heavy as a ton of bricks around you, each breath a boulder crushing your chest. Qimir approached, slowly, as if walking on tiptoes through the minefield surrounding you. Each step he took seemed to amplify the chaos within you, the tornado of emotions ravaging everything you once were.

"And don’t come any closer, damn it." Your voice exploded hysterically, a desperate scream you could no longer hold back. A roar of pain masked by anger, a desperate warning you knew wouldn’t stop Qimir. Your heart pounded frenetically, almost painfully, as every muscle in your body tensed to the extreme, as if simply standing were an impossible task. Every thought, every emotion clashed with the other, making you feel like you were about to explode.

Every step he took, drawing nearer with an almost unbearable slowness, squeezed your heart tighter. Why wouldn’t he stop? Why did he insist on trying to break down the wall you were desperately building around yourself?

"I don’t need you. Or him. Or anyone else." The words spilled out of you, a mix of hatred and desolation. You were lying, but that lie seemed like the only thing that could give you a semblance of control in that moment. Each word was like a heavy stone thrown into the void, and you hoped it would make you feel stronger, more detached. But it didn’t work. "I don’t care about the Jedi, the Sith, or that Force nonsense." The last word left your lips like a hiss, your tone almost empty, as if all those emotions were already draining what was left of you. The fire inside you was dying, and all that remained was ash, a hollow emptiness consuming you from within.

Qimir paused for a few seconds, listening, his gaze fixed on you—understanding, but not patronizing. He allowed you to be who you were in that moment: fragile, broken, in pieces. He said nothing. His silence was devastating, as though he understood everything, as if he could see through your lies, through the wall you had built. He didn’t need to speak, because he knew your words, your anger, were just armor to hide the pain.

"I don’t care about anything…" you repeated, but this time your voice cracked, the tone less certain, less fierce. Did you really not care?

Qimir began moving again, slowly, ignoring your initial warning. And when he got close enough to brush against your skin, you didn’t push him away. He gently took your wrist, his touch disarming. The contact made you tremble, and before you could react, you found yourself wrapped in his embrace, a warmth you hadn’t remembered feeling in so long. That warmth shattered you completely. You cried. You cried into his chest, your sobs muffled by his protective embrace, and with each sob, the last barrier you had built to protect yourself began to crumble.

"I don’t need you." you sobbed, your voice now a whisper devoid of conviction.

"I know" he replied softly, gently stroking your head with a tenderness you had never wanted, but now seemed to desperately need. He let you break down, knowing that in that moment, no words could ease the pain consuming you.

"I don’t care that I killed him. It doesn’t matter, really, I don't" you repeated, almost as if trying to convince yourself, but deep down, even you knew those words were hollow.

"It’s okay, I know" he responded, his voice a safe refuge, a place where you could let go, if only for a moment. His answer was a comfort, but not a true response, just an echo of everything you had lost.

You clung to the edges of Qimir’s black tunic with such force that your nails dug into the fabric, as if in that desperate grasp you could find the stability you so deeply lacked within yourself. His chest was solid, warm, a fleeting shelter from the storm still raging in your heart. You could no longer hold back the tears; they flowed like a silent but devastating waterfall, as your face sank into the dark fabric. You felt his breath, deep and calm, like a distant melody trying to soothe the turmoil devouring your soul. And strangely, it began to work.

“It’s okay to let it out. He was someone you cared about.” His voice, a whisper in your hair, had the softness of a blanket wrapping around you on a freezing winter night. Qimir didn’t push you, didn’t judge you, but each of his words sank into you with an inescapable truth. And that gentle tone… it stirred something even more painful within you. Perhaps it was a memory of who you used to be or who you had wanted to become.

“He was no one.” Your voice, fragile and trembling, fought against the reality you so desperately tried to deny. But that denial was crumbling with each word you spoke. Sol wasn’t “no one.” His ghost still clung to you, you could feel him in the chaos swirling within, in the cold air around you, in the light breeze that stung your face as you tried to regain control. He had been everything: mentor, confidant, guide, father. And now, he was gone. And your soul felt empty, like an abandoned shell.

Qimir took a step back, but his words remained, cold and sharp, like knives slowly carving into your heart.

“You need to accept the truth, or what you did will never bring you any peace. You killed him, y/n. Because he killed your sister, didn’t he? And he was important. You did it, and you’ve severed yourself from him.”

Those words hit you with a devastating force. Like lightning, they tore through the silence you had built around your pain. Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt every muscle tense in a suffocating grip. You couldn’t deny it.

“You said you were ready. If you were really, you’d-”

“He was like a father…” The whisper that escaped your lips surprised you, cutting off his words. You hadn’t even been aware of wanting to say it, but there it was, alive, full of truth. Qimir watched you with unrelenting calm, and for the first time, there was no judgment in his gaze. There was understanding, but also a push, a need for you to face what you had been running from.

Qimir smiled, but it was not a kind smile; it was bitter, cruel in its awareness. “He was.” he confirmed, and you felt his breath slow, almost measured. He lifted your chin with two fingers, the touch firm yet strangely gentle. His eyes locked with yours, a dark mirror in which your suffering reflected, distorted. “And you killed him.”

Those words echoed in the emptiness around you. There was no more room for lies. Your tears kept falling, silent rivers, and your sobs grew weaker, stifled by the crushing realization tearing you apart. You did it. Qimir didn’t let go. Every word he spoke was another stone, adding weight to your burden.

You swallowed, your throat tightening like a noose. A tingling sensation crept to the tip of your nose, a familiar sign that more tears were on the way. You didn’t want to cry anymore, but the tears came anyway, silent, unstoppable.

“And I killed him…” Your voice was a broken sound, cracked by pain and awareness. The words fell heavy, like boulders shattering the oppressive silence of the room.

“Even though he was important and the last thing tying you to the Jedi.” He was forcing you to feel the weight of the truth, to confront every facet of your pain. You hated him for it, hated his unshakable calm, as if none of this affected him. But a deeper part of you, the part that couldn’t lie, knew he was right. You gritted your teeth, your face twisting into an expression of pain and suppressed rage. You wanted to hate him, to scream at him, but you couldn’t summon the strength. His calm infuriated you, yet there was something hypnotic in the way his voice softly slid into your thoughts, like a whisper sinking deep, dismantling every defense you’d built.

“Say it, y/n. You killed him even though he was like a father.” Qimir’s tone grew heavier, his words falling like stones into the silence, weighty and unavoidable. Every statement was a knife, cutting deeper into your soul, stripping away each layer of falsehood you’d built around yourself.

“Not for Mae, not because he abandoned you in Khofar. You did it to detach yourself from something that was never truly yours.” Qimir continued, relentless, but now there was a tenderness in his tone, as if he were guiding you through the darkness. His words were sharp, but the harshness from before was gone; he seemed to be leading you toward some essential truth, toward a revelation. His eyes followed every shift in your expression, observing, measuring your reactions, while his hand remained steady, your wrist still trembling in his grasp.

Anger flared up again, like fire igniting beneath your skin. Your fists clenched, but you couldn’t find the words. Every time you wanted to shout, his voice would cut through, digging deeper, exposing everything you’d always tried to hide. Each of his words left you feeling naked before him, vulnerable.

“It’s not like that…” you whispered weakly, your voice tinged with anger, frustration, but mostly fear. Fear of admitting that perhaps Qimir was right. “I was a Jedi.” Your voice came out with force, as if speaking the words could make them true. But you knew it was just a defense, an illusion you were trying to build to shield yourself from the truths he was slowly unraveling.

“No. You never were.” Qimir’s voice was firm, without a hint of hesitation. “Kind. You said that to Sol, only to please him. You never truly wanted to be a Jedi. You never felt like one, and that’s why you gave it up. That’s why you left. You only found someone who, for the first time, seemed to see you, only you. Not Mae.”

His words pierced you like poisoned arrows, making you tremble with both rage and pain. You clenched your jaw, tears continuing to stream down your face, burning like acid. You desperately tried to pull away from him, to break the contact that made you feel so vulnerable. But he didn’t budge, his grip firm and secure like a vice.

“You never really cared for Mae. Sure, you mourned her death. But you’ve always envied her. Hated her… because your mothers always seemed to prefer her. She, who was always ahead of you, better, more attuned to the Force” he continued, his tone sweet like bitter honey. His words were a punch to the gut, an uncomfortable truth that had tormented you your whole life, a shadow you could never dispel.

“Enough…” you whispered, your voice broken, a stifled scream that you couldn’t release. You could no longer bear that pain, that cruelty masked as kindness.

“Did you really want to be ‘kind’?” he asked, his gaze piercing, cold yet sweet at the same time. He seemed almost curious, as if trying to gauge how far he could push you. “How could you truly believe you could become that, if deep down… you wanted Mae to die. To be truly dead. You knew she wasn’t when you were still a child, but you liked the idea.”

“It’s not like that…” you protested, your voice trembling, a thin thread of anger and despair fading with every word. You tried to deny it, to defend yourself, but his words seeped through your defenses like water dripping into a crack.

“But Sol saw you, didn’t he? He chose you over Mae; for the first time, you were the one. And you liked it. That’s why you left Brendok without looking for her corpse, that’s why you said you wanted to be ‘kind’; you knew the Jedi Masters would have rejected you if you had truly answered. Y/n, you could never have been a Jedi if you had responded honestly. You’ve always been consumed by jealousy, anger, fear… by the darkness.”

His voice was low and warm, almost a whisper, but each word was a blow that sank you deeper into the abyss. Every sentence he spoke opened a wound you thought was closed, and now it was bleeding, a sharp and dull pain that clouded your senses.

“Stop, please…” you moaned, your body trembling, your hands clutching him, searching for a foothold, an anchor in that ocean of confusion and despair, feeling vulnerable.

“Yes, it is. What would you have really answered Sol that day if his gaze hadn’t pleaded with you to respond as he wanted? Who did you want to become? Who did you really want to become, y/n?” His voice turned hard, imperative, and his gaze pierced you like a blade. It was as if he were forcing you to look within yourself alongside him, to dig deep to find the answer you had always feared.

“I… I don’t know” you whispered, panic engulfing your mind. You felt the world collapsing around you, everything you believed yourself to be disintegrating under the weight of his words. Your hands trembled, your body rigid like a taut string, and your eyes darted frantically around, searching for an escape, something to cling to.

“You know… say it, y/n. That day you cried, you lied to be accepted. To fit in. Say it, what did you really want?” he insisted, his tone softening yet becoming more dangerous. Your glassy eyes locked onto him, and you felt your mind emptying. A distant echo reverberated in your head, the truth surfacing from the darkness where you had imprisoned it.

“To be truly myself…be accepted.” you finally whispered, the words almost inaudible, devoid of life, as the weight of that revelation crushed your soul. The truth had emerged, bare and simple. Qimir nodded slowly, his expression cold yet understanding.

“Exactly. And who are you really?” Qimir continued, not loosening his grip, his voice growing warmer as if he wanted to guide you out of that darkness. Each of his words was a step toward liberation, a painful yet necessary path. You could no longer hide, not from him, not from yourself. You were collapsing, yet at the same time, you were reconstructing yourself, piece by piece.

“I am me…” you murmured, the words slowly unrolling with a newfound awareness as you lowered your gaze to your hands. You breathed more slowly now, your chest rising and falling in a more regular rhythm as a sense of peace began to break through within you, a strange and unexpected calm.

“You are darkness, y/n. You are anger, frustration, envy, disgust, desire. You are freedom, confusion, chaos, strength. You are yourself. You killed Sol to kill yourself. Not him, but the false, unhappy person you’ve always been. Living a life that never felt like your own.” His voice was warm and enveloping, and as he spoke, his fingers caressed your cheeks, wiping away the tears that continued to flow. Every gesture was delicate, almost loving, as if he were trying to soothe the pain he had just inflicted. You felt his strength, his presence, and that sensation of warmth filled you, sweeping away the coldness that had surrounded you.

“I wanted to be free.” you finally asserted, your tone stronger, more certain, as you looked into his eyes and saw your liberation reflected there. His smile softened, and his eyes sparkled with a new light as he pulled you closer, resting your head against his chest. “I am free…” you murmured, closing your eyes. The warmth of his embrace was a refuge, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a profound peace spreading within you, banishing the shadows that had accompanied you for so long. You could feel his hand moving through your hair, his breath gently rocking you, and in that moment, you allowed yourself to truly feel.

“My good girl…” he whispered, his voice vibrating with a tenderness that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. “How could you face a world that wouldn’t accept who you truly are, if not by pretending?” You closed your eyes, surrendering to that feeling of peace, of freedom, that you had never experienced before. Your mind emptied, your emotions settled, and for the first time in as long as you could remember, you truly felt… yourself.

“Now do you understand? You never belonged to that world, you never embraced your darkness, and you became weak” Qimir whispered, his voice like a gentle caress to your mind, penetrating your despair like a dense shadow spreading across a gloomy sky. You turned to look at him; he gazed at you with an unshakeable calm, his deep eyes full of a strength that seemed to pull you into an abyss from which there was no escape.

“I see you, y/n. I’ve always seen you. And I know this is the right path you should have walked all along. Mae… she didn’t have what you have” he continued, his warm hand resting on your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips, drawing a line of fire across your skin. You felt your heart race, a mix of anger and desire swirling within you.

Your gaze dropped, trying to escape the weight of his words, but Qimir’s hand gently moved under your chin, lifting it firmly, forcing you to look at him again.

“You’ve been… cruel” you whispered, your voice a thin thread, broken and fragile like shattered glass. He smiled softly, a smile that sent shivers down your spine, laden with a twisted sweetness that seemed to touch the deepest chords of your soul.

“You would have remained trapped in a loop of self-deception, never accepting your true self,” he murmured, his fingers softly caressing your cheeks now. “Now you’re like me. You’ve lost everything, you’ve hit You have touched the rock bottom, and you’re free to be. To exist as you truly are.” His voice was a hypnotic whisper, weaving into your mind, making you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the turmoil inside you, then sighed deeply and nodded faintly.

Then, without warning, he grabbed your shoulders and turned you toward the still-burning temple, the dying flames illuminating the structure. “You died. There. Today. Alongside your master.” he said, leaning toward you, his warm breath brushing your ear, making you tremble. “And you have been reborn. Stronger. You could have everything, if only you would let yourself be guided.” His words were a dangerous mix that slipped inside you, sowing confusion and desire. You slowly turned your head, your gaze lost in his, and for a moment it seemed as if the world had stopped. His closeness was both suffocating and reassuring, his warmth enveloping you, and you felt yourself falling, falling for him, into that darkness that had always been there, waiting for you.

“You want me to become your apprentice,” you murmured in a thin voice, a bitter sarcasm masking your fear and hesitation.

“I want you to become my pupil. My acolyte” he replied, his voice dropping lower and deeper, almost a low growl that resonated in your chest. His eyes scrutinized you with an intensity that took your breath away, as if he wanted to see every thought, every hidden emotion inside you. “I still want to be completely yours, but let me help you blossom… We could have everything, y/n.”

His gaze was hypnotic, a living flame drawing you in closer. You looked down, your breath becoming heavy and irregular. You felt lost, trapped between the desire to escape again and the urge to surrender completely to him. Slowly, you turned, raising your eyes to meet his, your heart racing as you approached. And then, without thinking, your lips pressed against his.

The contact was like an electric shock coursing through your body, a fire igniting within you, burning away every uncertainty. His lips were warm and strong against yours, and for a moment, the world ceased to exist. Your hand moved instinctively, seeking the hilt of his lightsaber, the cold metal fitting perfectly in your palm. You gripped it firmly, feeling the power it contained, like a heartbeat resonating in sync with yours. Qimir didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands moved slowly, gently but decisively, settling over yours, enveloping it with a possessive grip. His thumb caressed your skin, while his tongue brushed against yours, inviting you to join him in a dance of desire and power. You felt his warm breath mixing with yours, his body pressing against yours, as the kiss deepened, became more intense. Each movement of his lips was a promise, a whispered secret that made you tremble with longing.

And in that moment, as the world seemed to burn around you, as the temple crumbled like the past you had left behind, you understood that this was how it was meant to be. That he would be your master, your guide, the one who would protect you. That you would follow that darkness, embrace the power flowing through your veins.

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TAGLIST: @neteyamtanhi @blossomedfloweroflove @muffledgorillaviolence @princessakirika

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Notes :

I missed a little bit of dark Qimir. this man is so bipolar fr fr.

Anyway, I’m still stuck at the front chapter, I read it in loop. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know

-Mel

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[zayray030]

too proud to show

Summary: And this pride was especially in effect when it came to a certain, heart eyed Heartstaybul little shit with his pretty pouty lips, rose cheeks, lightly tanned skin and gorgeous body. Yep. For as long as they live, the NRC students will absolutely refuse to acknowledge the feelings they hold for a certain Ace Trappola.

OR

Ace is oblivious and gorgeous. NRC are prideful and dumb. Who would have thought?

Notes: Sorry for not posting yesterday. Fell sick but also, hope everyone likes this one.

One thing that all of the NRC students shared, apart from magic and emotional repression, was their pridefulness. 

Be it so that they don't ask for help for said emotional problems, that they show off their magic at every given opportunity and how smart they are or just something as simple as continuing to open a jar without help despite struggling immeasurably. They were all prideful one way or another. 

And this pride was especially in effect when it came to a certain, heart eyed Heartstaybul little shit with his pretty pouty lips, rose cheeks, lightly tanned skin and gorgeous body. Yep. For as long as they live, the NRC students will absolutely refuse to acknowledge the feelings they hold for a certain Ace Trappola. 

Now, however, just because they refuse to acknowledge nor act out on their feelings does not mean that they have not made it so painfully and extremely obvious about what they think of the pretty Heartstaybul student. 

*** 

Sebek liked to think of himself as level headed. Sure, some would say that his obsession with protecting Lord Malleus was extreme and overzealous but they were all disposable humans, never able to hold a candle to his greatness and his power 

However, loath as he is to admit it, he was still a teen boy in a school full of teen boys who had a 95% non-heterosexuality rate and he was part of that 95% percent. And he was also the part of the 100% of the school that found Ace Trappola's annoying ass to be pretty. 

So, when the redhead had come up to him and said that the first-year gang was planning a study over at Savanaclaw it had only taken him to look at those pretty pouting lips and those heart stopping eyes for him to agree. 

And that's how he had ended up sitting with both Jack and Epel on either side of him admiring how pretty Ace looked whilst he poked fun at Deuce. 

"C'mon Deucey give it up and ask for help already!" Whined Ace, pouting at Deuce as the blunette tried to push the ginger away. 

"No! I have this!" Argued Deuce and Sebek felt his temperature flare. The moron had the pretty redhead's attention all to himself and he wasn't even going to take advantage of that?! Disgraceful! 

"He's not even going to pretend?" Muttered Epel under his breath, aura murderous as he stared at the blue haired idiot who was too oblivious to notice the privilege he was getting. 

Sebek stared at Deuce and Ace for a moment longer and couldn't help the feeling of relief inside. At least somebody was making it easier for him to capture the heart-eyed student's attention. 

He stared a moment longer before yelling loudly about the stupidity of humans, everyone except Ace understanding the dual meaning behind it and he couldn't help but smirk at Deuce's flushed face. 

*** 

Floyd found Ace pretty, for once doing something that the entirety of the student body agreed on. However, his way of showing his affections was less than usual. 

"Crabby~ Come here and let me squeeze you." The older one whined loudly as basketball practice slowed down to a finish. 

"Considering that we're both sweaty and gross? No thank you." Ace snapped as he turned to the locker rooms to shower, once again showing his lack of self-preservation but also no doubt his bravery in front of his moody upperclassmen. 

“But Crabby looks so cute and squishable right now, I have to squeeze him.” Floyd countered, already advancing towards the unsuspecting redhead who was too busy taking a swig from his water bottle. 

“You say the weirdest shit sometimes, Floyd-senpai.” complained Ace only to yelp when he felt strong arms wrap around him and lift him off the floor. “Put me down!” he demanded, scrambling to hold onto the eel as the older boy began laughing. 

“Not until you let me squeeze you.” Floyd simply told the boy before nuzzling against the redhead's neck. 

Unbeknown to the both of them, the entire club was currently holding itself back from charging at Flod and throwing the merman into the darkest pits of hell for capitalizing on Ace whilst he was flushed, sweating and tired. 

“I’ll kill him.” hissed out a particularly vapid Heartslabyul student and he couldn’t be blamed for it. After all, even when he had Ace in his dorm, he still couldn't get any alone time with him whilst Floyd managed to effortlessly sway Ace into conversation, even with the threat of getting squeezed due to one of the eel’s mood swings. 

Jamil sighed as he watched the rest of the basketball club conjure up a way to murder Floyd and keep it a secret whilst he merely went up the redhead. 

“Come on now, Floyd, let him go so he can go get changed or he’ll catch something.” Jamil scolded the taller as he caught a stumbling Ace was let go by a pouting and irritated Floyd. 

“Way to ruin the fun Sea Snake.” huffed Floyd as He slung an arm over his own shoulder and glared down at the grey eyed boy. “And just when Crabby and I were having fun.”   

“Who was having fun?” asked Ace sarcastically, simply just wanting to take a shower and nap for eternity. 

Jamil chuckled at the redhead's sass and gently ruffled his hair. “Well as one of our up-and-coming basketball stars, we need to make you're in good condition, no?” Jamil pointedly asked, using a hand to gently the cup the others face. 

In the background someone squeezed their bottle to the point that the water splattered out of it and everywhere on the floor. No one paid attention to it, too busy trying to curse Jamil ad Floyd with their minds to care about the possible slip hazard. 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

Beauty was something that all NRC students strived for, not just Pomefiore. Now, there were different kinds of beauty. There was beauty in following the rules, in a good fight, a good deal, good grades and so on. It just didn’t help that Ace has a beauty like no other. 

“Normally, I would be jealous beyond belief that some upstart first year from a different dorm had all of Vil-Senpais attention.” Commented a 2nd year Pomefiore student, as they observed Vil adjust the dress that Ace was wearing. “However, right now I’m more grateful than anything.” his companion nodded as he discreetly took pictures of the scene in front of him, more focused on trying to capture the pretty redhead more so than the blond model. 

“Amen, brother. Amen.” 

The reason for the two unexpectedly tame reaction is due to the fact that Ace had lost a bet with Epel. Now what might that be you ask? Whether or not Ace could actually play basketball in high heels. Predictably, Ace lost. However, his loss could be attributed to the fact that Epel gave him 7” stiletto heels to play in so there’s also the question of how ethical that bet really was. Not that anyone is complaining of course. That is due to the consequences of Ace losing said bet. 

What were the consequences? Having to wear on outfit by Epel’s request and having to take his position in ballet. Now, of course because Epel is a first year and is like 2 feet tall so it didn’t take long for some third and second years into ahem kindly suggesting a different outfit for him to try. 

See, whilst Epel was irrevocably into Ace, he also wanted to show Vil he could dance just fine dungarees and he would have used Ace to prove his point. However, of course none in his dorm would have allowed such a precious opportunity to go to waste because of some grudge. We are talking about seeing Ace Trappola in whatever outfit they wanted. Who the hell would be stupid enough to ruin that? 

So that is why Ace was currently in white feathered gown. The top part has a sweetheart neckline and was sleeveless with little encrusted gems and small feather and gems on the corset that made the teen almost sparkle. Meanwhile the bottom part was almost entirely feathered and stopping at around mid-thigh. This was the only outfit that Vil hadn’t rejected after deeming all the other ‘perverted’ and a ‘disgrace to the elegancy of Pomefiore’ 

‘Yeah right, blondie.’ thought a mob viciously as they watched Epel reluctantly hand Ace the dress and delighting in the sweet flush of his cheeks. ‘Like you wouldn’t pay to see him in those.’ Almost as if Vil had the ability of telepathy he turned to glare at said mob which caused the other to turn away and whistle innocently. 

“Hey, Umm where’s Rook? I thought he’d be here taking pictures.” asked a mob as they watched Vil teach Ace some of the more basic movements in ballet whilst the redhead observed closely. “Wouldn't he be the first one here? He is the school’s resident stalker.” and the blond wore that as if it was a badge of honour  

“Oh, he’s in the vent.” said a more artistic Pomefiore student. Instead of taking a picture like the rest of his dormmates, he has instead taken to drawing a live portrait. It would be so sweet if there wasn’t certain...ahem discrepancies in the drawing. Mainly the position and certain tasteful alterations to the dress.  

“Huh?!” they all hissed and looked up and there truly was their Vice-lead, in the vents staring down at Ace with a blush on his cheek and a camera in his arms and what looked suspiciously like camera memory holders. Several of them. 

“He kinda makes out obsession look like a sham.” one pouted, arms crossed and annoyed. Before anyone else could agree with their fellow perv- dormmate, there was a loud pointed cough. 

“Is there a particular reason why you are all behind us, taking underhanded photos and drawing such abominations.” Oh, their dorm head was pissed. A vein was throbbing, his hands were clenched and if he was a dragon he would be breathing out fire and smoke from pure rage alone.  

In contrast to Ace, who honestly just looked bored and done with the ordeal. He had his signature pout and he had his arms crossed as he leaned on one of the railings, hips cocked out. 

“Whilst all of you were all being disgraces to this dorm.” ouch. “Ace here has shown magnificent progress.” okay even Vil won’t compliment someone out of pettiness. “Show them, potato.”  Vil demanded, still glaring at those in his dorm. 

Ace rolled his eyes, grateful that Vil can’t see and started doing the moves that Vil had shown him. Now, of course Ace wasn’t a master Ballerina, nowhere close. His pirouette lacked the power, his wobbled were clear and his moves were sloppy and clearly lazy. However, for a beginner who’s had like 30 minutes tops? That was pretty amazing stuff. 

“Can i go now?” the brat asked after he did his final twirl, still looking annoyed at the fact that he had lost a bet to a loophole and has been instructed by Vil for the past 30 minutes.  

“Yes, potato, leave.” Vil waved him off distractedly, still focusing on the perverts in his dorm. When the younger left, giving them all a perfect view of his pretty pale back, Vil asked his dorm a question, “Now, what do you have to say for yourselves.” 

“It was silent for a moment before Rook opened up his mouth, unwantedly by the rest of the room. 

“I do believe he would be more beautiful and perfect split on my cock as he performs one f the moves he learnt today.” the hunter said, smiling with an almost innocent head tilt. Those eyes would look so naive and trustworthy were it not for the words just spoken. It was silent for a minute before Vil took out his magic pen and started firing spells left and right in pure rage. 

‘Ah, at least if i die now i know that Ace is flexible.’ thought a mob as a spell fired at him. 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

“More protection.” demanded Riddle as he used multiple spells on the garden hedges to make it so that anyone who wasn’t from this dorm would get immediately strangled by the thorny bushes. 

“No offence, Riddley, but don’t you think this is over T?” asked Cater as he watched, mildly terrified by the number of curses that Riddle knew. 

“They aren’t enough,” muttered Trey darkly as he helped Riddle set more spells. I mean who could blame him. He had just walked in on another Heartslabyul student attempting to take advantage of Ace whilst the boy was bet over a counter to try and reach something, “If anything we need to start making it attack people in the dorm.” 

“And give Ace more triggers for the rose-related PTSD?” Cater asked sarcastically, hands on hips looking at the two as they were insane. “Do you two see yourselves? Acey is more than capable off looking after himself, this is just insulting towards him.” 

“Housewarden! Everyone is daring Ace to eat a banana whole which has whipped cream and icing n it!” Deuce came in yelling, sounding out of breath, clearly have run all the way here. 

The two childhood friends turned to Cater in sync, almost as if to say, ‘You see what we mean now?” before turning to Deuce “Guide us.” Riddel demanded with Trey nodding behind him. 

When those three left the rose bushes, Cater turned to them and took out his own magic pen so that he could increase the length of the bushes so that they can travel farther and strangle perverts at a long distance. 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 

“Get off me, Ace!” demanded Jack as he continued doing his push ups. 

On his back was Ace, reading a magazine and taking an occasional sip from his cherry pop. “Why? You’re getting extra practice from me being on your back!” he argued, pouting at being denies his fun. “Are you saying you can’t keep up, Jack?” he teased the wolf. 

“You way the approximate weight of a packet of grapes..” Jack replied innocently, still doing his push ups as if he doesn’t have a whole 16-year-old on his back. “Now get off before I ‘accidentally’ injure you.” 

“I sensed the quotations; Jackie Boy and I’m hurt.” Ace shot back, still refusing to get off the tall teen’s back, instead getting even more comfortable by placing his soda can on Jack’s back as well along with the magazine and admired how the can didn’t even sway or spill. 

“What’s going on here?” joined a new voice to the first years. Jack looked up and there stood Leona with his hand on his hip whilst Ruggie was behind him, looking highly amused by the scene. 

“Ace is being a nuisance and won’t get off,” replied Jack much to Ace’s indignation if the offended gasp was to say anything. 

Ruggie snickered at the wording whilst Leona merely smirked his usual smirk at Jack before turning to the first year who wasn’t a part of his dorm. 

“How about this. Get off Jack and I’ll take you flying.” Leona offered. From far away it might seem like a gesture of good will to the both of them but those who truly knew the lion knew that something else was going on. He was trying to bribe Ace away from the other first year, and trying to get one-on-one touching time with him as well. No way was Ruggie gonna let that happen. 

“Shishishi, Really Leona-san?” asked Ruggie as he raised an eyebrow at his dorm head. “I thought you’d be too sleepy to even fly your own broom.”  

“Well, if I can afford it, why don’t I use it.” Leona shot back, an equally cruel smirk on his face as Ruggie’s. 

Jack assessed the situation, remembered the weight on his back and hatched a plan as the upperclassmen fought over who would ride with Ace. 

“How about Ace flies with the both of you.” Jack suggested, ignoring the heavy stare of betrayal from Ace as he realised Jack was throwing him under the bus. “Then he can say which one is better.” he added which caused Ace to immediately stand up and try and make a break for it. 

“You know what, I just remembered that my housewarden might want something from me, so I'm gonna go now-” he was cut off by Leona grabbing him and throwing him over his shoulder. He let out of a scream of surprise and flailed around before he realised who’s shoulder he was on.  

“You’re precious housewarden can wait. C’mon Ruggie. Later frosh.” Leona waved at Jack as he and Ruggie made their way to the court. 

Jack stared at the door for a while, a sense of guilt festering before he shrugged and continued training. Ace could survive. 

After all, neither were going to risk the fury of the entire school in the off-chance that thye might hurt him. 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

“Yeah, that’s it. Now go to the left and you should win.” 

“Don’t forget to get the level-ups as well. You're a noob so of course you’re going to need all the help you can get.” 

“This coming from the guy who needed help after he got kidnapped by a ghost?” 

“One time!” 

“And during that one time you pissed everyone off so much that the original groups wanted nothing to do with you- WAIT don’t go in there!” 

“Why-Oh. I see. That is why.” 

One of the oddest groups within NRC were all crowded together. There was Malleus, Ace, Lilia and Idia, all around, watching Malleus play on the game console that Ace had given him to try, all of them trying to help him win the level with varying levels of success. Most of them being very low. 

“I don’t understand. If I've already defeated the boss, why do I die again?” asked Malleus, very much looking like he wanted to smash the game to pieces if it wasn’t that Ace would get extremely upset with him if he did so. 

“Look, watch here.” Ace took back his consol to show him how hot do the level. 

They all watched as he expertly manoeuvred through the level, even Idia not making any backhanded comments, instead content on watching how cute Ace looked with his pretty pink tongue poking out ever so slightly in concentration. 

‘So. Fucking. Cute.’ Idia gripped his hoodie even harder to resist the urge to do something dumb. Such as lean over and kiss Ace which would most certainly not only get him punched by said redhead, but also stomped on by the entire school. 

However, Lilia shared no such fears. He wrapped his arms around Ace and leaned in closer from behind, resting his chin on Ace’s shoulder an let out a chuckle. “My, my How often do you play this game, Ace.”   

“A lot!” Ace answered distractedly, completely forgetting that the whole point was to teach Malleus how to play the game, instead choosing to play the game all over again, not that Malleus had any objections to that. “Me and my brother used to play it all the time and he said anytime I beat his high score he would buy me whatever I wanted.”   

Idia’s heart squeezed at how cute Ace looked in his excitement to mention his big brother and he had to take several deep breaths so that his hair didn’t change colour. 

“Could you teach me how to play more, some time?” asked Malleus, enraptures by the redhead, not focusing on the game so much as the other human.  

“Yeah sure! It’s actually easy once you get the hands of it! You’ll be semi-decent in no time!” teased Ace, smiling up at the fae. 

Malleus stared at the pretty smile before muttering under his breath. “I wish I don’t”   

“What was that?” Ace asked tilting his head. 

“Yeah, what was that?” joined Idia and Lilia in to stir the pot. 

“I said, can't wait.” Malleus answered the two with gritted teeth before looking back down at Ace. “Now could you show me this level again.” 

    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

So, yes, whilst the people in NRC will never admit to the feels they have for the redhead, hey can damn well show how they feel. 

And that’s better than nothing, right? 

*Clown-bus noises in the back.* 

[nuria-schnee]

Hi everyone! ❤️ In this week's sneak peek, the boys are on a mission.

"Let's proceed," Edwin said. They walked the remaining distance until they reached the limit of the forest, the roaring still trying to get through the barriers of his spell. Edwin and Charles looked at each other once before Edwin turned around and walked directly into the forest. As soon as he stepped inside, the shouting faded away at once. "It's gone," Charles whispered. Edwin nodded, pondering whether it was a good or a bad sign. However, they knew very little about that plane besides the few glimpses Crystal had managed to get. Aside from that, they were in entirely uncharted and, without a doubt, hostile territory. Nevertheless, Niko was there, somewhere, and the only thing they could use to find her was their own experience finding clues and solving mysteries. Steeling himself, Edwin continued walking through the trees, immersing in the woods. Their surroundings became darker as they advanced, the thick foliage blocking the whiteness radiating from the sky. The snow mantle covering the grass under their shoes was thinner under the trees, even if slippier.

It was strange how this plane was affecting them. Edwin's trousers had become wet and heavy from the snow, which was highly bothersome. However, his focus was elsewhere. Edwin was worried about Charles. It had been a few minutes since he'd started hearing his chattering teeth and his breathing shuttering, most surely caused by the cold attacking their forms. The snow had his body wrecked by shivers, and Edwin could recall bearing the cold more easily than most while he'd been alive. The thing was that Charles had a history with coldness that Edwin worried might bring some unpleasant sensations and memories. Besides, nothing seemed to lead them anywhere. There weren't tracks on the snow, signals craved on the trees, or any other sound aside from the ones they were making. Even if he'd remained hopeful, Crystal couldn't be infallible, considering they had mostly taken stabs in the dark. Niko should be nearby but could be far away, too, as far as they knew. After walking for almost an hour and not finding anything, they stopped over a little hill inside the forest. Edwin turned to look at Charles, who was clearly freezing and trying not to show it. Edwin approached him, standing closer to him, his brow creased at the sight. Charles huffed, his breath coming out in a puff of humid air. "You are freezing, Charles. You should have said something," Edwin whispered. "I'm fine, mate," Charles said in a hushed, tense tone, gulping. "Don't worry. We can keep going." Edwin huffed. Warming spells were tricky, and he wasn't sure how wise it was to use fickle magic in this realm. However, he couldn't focus if he knew Charles was plagued by coldness. Instead, he shrugged his jacket off and handed it to Charles. "Wear it under yours. It surely will help, even if just a little," Edwin said softly. "No. No, I can't—" Charles shook his head, wide-eyed, almost panicked. "I hold the cold well," Edwin informed him, insisting. "I assure you." "This place is bloody gelid." "Precisely," Edwin insisted, almost pressing the jacket against Charles' chest. "Please, have it. Do me that favour." Reluctantly, Charles took his jacket. He shrugged off his coat first, and Edwin held it for him while he put on his over his polo. It looked strange and slightly off since Edwin was slightly taller and his shoulders broader. It didn't matter. When Charles put on his coat again, it was barely visible. Charles huffed a relieved sigh, shrugged a little, and closed his eyes for a moment. "Thank you, ma—" Edwin didn't hear the rest.

LINKS

Index (AO3) | Read first chapter on AO3 | Playlist | Trailer

[shannonsketches]

like why did they change where Vegeta was when Cell announced the cell games in the anime

why did they make this vegeta starting shit with yamcha instead of chillin in the lab with his family? why did they take Bulma out of the lab? Why'd they say she was Out while Dr Brief was repairing 16? Why did they change Bulma working on advanced robotics to running in late with her baby?

it's the same scene except: - Bulma's actively at work being a scientist - Vegeta's not being rude to her (or anyone else!) - Vegeta waits for Trunks instead of leaving the room - Cell interrupted the airwaves, which means Trunks and Vegeta were just hanging out with Bulma and Dr B while they were working

Those are all Great Character Details!! That the anime rails against!!

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Shout-out to everyone who survived a "fun" easter with the family

[orcelito]

hey since i have access to all my phone's photos much more easily, check out my old violin

got it from my great uncle, who said it belonged to His grandpa. so we r looking at like 4 generations up here. he gave it to me in 2010 ish bc im the only person in the family that plays violin lol. & being in middle school, i named it Star :')

it still plays well, too! not my default for when i play bc i use my newer violin for that. but i still value her greatly

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mission Control 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You don’t know when he stopped, you’re just happy it’s over. For now. You know better than to think it won’t happen again. 

His shadow moves around, vague and ominous. You lay where he left you. The mattress feels thin beneath you, your body sunk from the force of his appetites. Your body aches as his assault scars you more than skin deep. Bitemarks and bruises pulses as your insides knot and tug in ceaseless horror. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. You listen to him shift around; it sounds more as if the house shifts around him. He leaves the bedroom and you roll onto your side with a rattling effort. You whine and tuck your hand between your thighs, raw from his incessant pounding. 

It’s like something in him broke. There was no control in what he did. No restraint or relent. He is more than inhuman, he is monstrous. 

When he returns, a grunt crackles from him. He comes to the bed and it dips with his weight. He grabs your shoulder and forces you onto your back. You brace yourself for more. 

His cowl is gone. His brows arch and the scar down the side of his face pales with the strain. He raises his hand and you wince. He tilts his head then shakes it as he shows you a handful of the silver packets. You blink in confusion.  

You take a breath and try to speak. Your throat is brittle and dry. You clear it and push a hoarse whisper, “not hungry.” 

He tuts and drops the packets, keeping one in his hand. He points to the label. Day 2 – Dinner. It’s still sealed. He tosses it and takes another, once more tapping the slanted lettering. You think you know what he’s saying. 

You hug yourself and swallow, trying to wet your tongue. “I wasn’t hungry. Stomach hurt.” 

He looks down and sifts through the packages. He turns them over and his forehead wrinkles. He gathers them all and carries them away. 

You stare after him as he stomps out of the room. You uncross your arms and press your hands to the bed. You sit up and look down at the remnants of the nightgown. You free your arms and bring your knees up to hug them. You whimper at the friction between your legs. 

He comes back. His hair is greasy and some has a red tint at the tips. You don’t want to think of what that is. His neck shows a layer of filth and his clothes are stained and dusty. You look down and find much of it smeared on your skin. 

He marches over to you. You cower and he stops at the edge of the bed. He raises his hand slowly, as if to coax you. You stare as he holds it open to you. Your insides throb and you take his hand, not wanting to provoke another episode. 

He leads you from the bed and takes you through the front room into the bathroom. He puts you by the sink and turns away. You shiver, trying to shield your naked body with only your arms. He bends over the tub and rinses it out then puts the stopper in place. 

He faces you and works at unstrapping his body armor. You stare at him, legs trembling, and move to lean on the sink to keep from keeling over. He watches you with a dimple in his forehead. 

He undresses, piece by piece, until he’s naked. You stay as you are until he grabs you. He drags you to the tub with him. You step in at his insistence and he angles you around. He lowers himself first then brings you down over him. The water laps between your feet as it fills the porcelain. 

You can’t relax, even as the heat soothes your tortured muscles. With him so close, you can’t ever let your guard down again.  

He brings his hand up your thigh and around your hip. He tickles your stomach and spreads his hand over one side of your chest. You shiver and steel yourself. He toys with you, not unkindly, and you brace the sides of the tub. 

As the water reaches the brim, he sits you up with him to shut it off. He reclines again, hooking his other arm around your middle. You like this softness less than his rough return. You can handle the cruelty, you expect it, but these moments confound you. It’s like a game you can’t win. 

Silence steams with the water. You don’t move. You can’t. You have to do something. Say something. But what? 

“I’m sorry,” you eke out. You’re not sure why you say that, but you are sorry. That moment flashes in your head, when you tried to use his name. That seemed to set him off. “Thank you for the food and the wood. I’m sorry I didn’t eat it all.” 

He growls but doesn’t say anything. He shifts and nuzzles the top of your head, his hot breath pluming over your scalp. The rigidity slowly seeps from him, thought that underlying stiffness remains. 

“I tried to keep it clean. I didn’t know... what else to do. I... I don’t know why I’m talking. I’ll-- I’ll stop,” you exhale and stare at the corroding mouth of the faucet. 

He drags his hand up from your chest and cups your chin. You twitch and his thumb stretches up to toy with your lower lip. Your grimace and let him poke around. He huffs in frustration then with two fingers, moves both your lips. He traces his touch down to your throat. 

“You want me to talk?” You ask. 

He pushes his nose firmly against your crown. You take that as affirmation. What do you talk about? You glance around and search for anything. You’ve been so bored and yet you can’t think of much. 

“My... my grandma had a tub like this,” you utter awkwardly. “It was her favourite place. She would read in there for hours. Funny, she... she wasn’t much of a kid person so we usually just did our own thing.” You ramble as your voice cracks, “and... we broke her favourite clock. It had a glass cover over it... I... just a silly memory.” 

He hums and caresses your cheek. You gulp again and hold back a quiver. If you can keep him calm for just a little, then you’ll find something to talk about. You just need to think about anything but the here and now. 

[beeholyshit]

2 of my neurons just made synapses

Thinking about Glitchy and M3ga mmmm

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2023

Day 25 - Call it a Day

With a hiss the arrow left his bow, shot through the air and hit its target. It landed right into the Sandskin Peiste’s left eye and the creature, already studded with arrows all over it’s body, finally broke down defeated.

A'viloh marvelled at the other Miqo'te’s archery skills. Maybe one or two of A'vi’s own arrows had found their target while all the others had missed or didn’t even fly far enough. His skills had improved a little over the last few weeks but alone he would never ever manage to take such a monster down.

When Laqa did it though, it seemed so absurdly easy! The way he fought, the unflinching look in his golden eyes, every single one of his movements, the way he went still amid the turmoil before letting the arrow fly - it all mesmerised A'viloh.

"Phew! That was a tough one.", the blonde Miqo'te said and ran the back of his hand over his forehead as he turned to A'viloh. "You think three ones will be good enough to impress Gundobald?"

The two of them had arrived at Little Ala Mhigo around three months ago and while they had managed to befriend a few people, a lot of them remained wary of them. The most stubborn of them was Gundobald, who was unfortunately also the leader of this settlement. He tolerated them so far but winning his sympathy seemed like an impossible task. For U'laqa however this was more of a challenge than a hindrance and he took on every possible task that might enhance their reputation in the Ala Mhigan’s eyes. Today that had meant decimating the Peistes which had increased more and more around the settlement over the last few weeks.

"I don’t think anything is enough to impress Gundobald." A'viloh laughed. "You could bring down a Primal all by yourself and all you‘d get would be one of his stoic huffs."

U'laqa chuckled and yanked the arrows from the Peiste‘s corpse. "You‘re right. It just bugs me that I can’t win that stubborn old man over…"

"Ah yes... I can see how that‘s a heavy blow for someone as much-loved as you!", A'viloh teased.

Laqa handed him some of the arrows, then leaned down and planted a small kiss on A'vi’s lips. "I don’t care if they love me or not as long as you do, Vi…"

"You know that I always will, no matter how many monsters you can fight…", A'viloh blushed and fidgeted with the arrows in his hands. "...but if you want to we could try to take out another one."

U'laqa shook his head. "Nah! It‘s enough for one day."

"Alright, but I will try to aim a little better next time…", A‘viloh promised.

Laqa grinned and winked at him. "Maybe you actually would if you concentrated on what I taught you instead of staring at me half of the time."

"I am not!", A'viloh protested.

"Yes you are!", the other teased and nudged him.

A'viloh giggled. "Why would I? It’s not like you look distractingly handsome when you’re fighting…"

"You’re flattery isn‘t going to save you from target practice, Vi!", U'laqa teased, took his hand and pulled him along.

For a while he let A'viloh shoot arrows at a cactus from various distances, giving advice and correcting his posture, the later with a little more physical contact than would have been strictly necessary - Focus, Vi!, he teased knowing very well what he was doing - before he pressed a kiss to A'vi‘s cheek from behind and announced: "I guess that’s enough. Let’s call it a day."

A'viloh went to get his arrows while Laqa lay down under a big green tree nearby, that defied the blazing sun and offered them a patch of comfortable shadow. A'viloh sat down beside him and observed the view. Little Ala Mhigo at their backs, the landscape of Broken Water stretched out in front of them, the road leading towards Camp Drybone at their left and the ancient ruins of the Belah‘dian temple to their right. Not a soul to be seen far and wide.

"This is a nice spot, isn’t it?", A'viloh asked and looked down to Laqa.

"Mhmm… I really like the view.", he answered, deliberately looking at A'viloh instead. The red-haired Miqo'te looked at him as if he wanted to say Don’t be silly! but U'laqa reached out for him and pulled him down towards himself before he could say another word.

And as they lay there in the grass together, just the two of them, away from the prying eyes of Little Ala Mhigo, A’viloh thought that this had to be the best place in the world.

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

anyway back to thinking about fionna and cake for the night because simon compels me