#and then gets fucked up by a few low level attacks from the students
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i'm gonna say it. i don't think tomura was ever an actual manchild. stick with me here for a minute okay. imaging growing up only really knowing one father figure, and he tells you the world will be yours, but you need to be strong enough and cruel enough to handle the world, and afo makes him use his quirk for whatever he wants and praises tomuras destruction. imagine that man telling you that this one specific man is responsible for all your pain and suffering, if it weren't for this man your father wouldn't have hit you, you wouldn't have been locked out and hurt when your quirk manifested and you wouldn't have killed your family if it weren't for your grandmother choosing him, intentionally leaving out his own involvement. THEN imagine that man telling you yes, here is the key to killing the man that has caused you so much pain, ruined your life completely, i wasn't able to kill him myself but this will. and you break into the highest guarded school in the country full of pro hero's successfully without raising any real red flags, find a place where he will be away from most other students to attack him, all for him not to even BE THERE??? i'd act like that too actually. also like. from how tomura is shown in the next few seasons, i wouldnt have put it past him to have intentionally made plans to keep the students away from the actual fighting, there's no way he didn't know all he had was a bunch of low level thugs, but that didn't matter because he was only there for all night and he and kurogiri could handle themselves. he could have intentionally made it so that the kids would go against the easy fighters, away from the actual fighting, kurogiri could have just as easily warped them into the main plaza with the huge monster and the man with the most dangerous quirk of them all, even with eraserhead there, tomura only ever engaged with them when they interrupted his plans. once again i'd also kinda be pissed at not only the extra people for being So easy to defeat barely putting up an actual fight, but the fact that the students i had intentionally made sure were out of the way are rushing into the action to stop my plans!!! like i feel like it's a reasonable reaction for your first big mission from your super manipulative guy who's dad basically who has promised it would go well and that you'd both have your revenge and put so much time and effort planning everything perfectly because god knows afo wouldnt have cared ab sending kids into action, and as soon as you get there it all falls apart. BECAUSE HE DIDNT EVEN COME. DIDNT EVEN COME TO HIS FUCKING JOB AS A TEACHER??? AND I GET FUCKING SHOT AFTER MY PERFECT PLAN WAS RUINED BECAUSE OF ONE DECISION!!!! HIS REACTION WAS REASONABLE ACTUALLY ID BE WORSE and this is just the first instance he often gets called a man child for!! like!!!!!!
#my hero acedamia#bnha#boku no hero academia shigaraki#shigaraki fluff#shigaraki headcanons#my hero academia shigaraki#shiggy#bnha shigaraki#shigaraki tomura#tomura shigaraki#shigaraki tenko#shimura tenko#bnha tenko#mha tenko#tenkoshimura#tomura imagine#tomura headcanons#tomura fluff#mha tomura#tomura shiragaki#boku no hero academia tomura#all for one#mha#boku no hero imagines#boku no hero acedamia#bnha fanfiction#boku no academia#boku no hero fanfic#my fic
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Excuse me, are you alive? :(
Believe it or not yes
I've been tryna hold off on coming back till this semester is over + I'm in a better place mentally cause low and behold I realized maybe trying to silence all the shit going on in my body with medications instead of addressing them with exercise, a healthy diet and other such lifestyle changes wasn't the best idea. That plus said meds getting increasingly expensive, to the point where even when I was using goodrx to get a huge discount on them I was still paying $40 a month on them. Like I don't even have a job cause I'm a full time student. That's a whole fuckin lot for me.
Also did I mention the hidden fees??? Last week I got a randomass bill in the mail which essentially made me pay $96 dollars for a flu shot cause my insurance wouldn't pay for it all. A. Flu. Shot. I was given the impression by the nurse that they were free, or at least extremely cheap with insurance. Fuck that.
In any case I contacted my doc last week and have started waning off the meds. I'm going to try improving myself on many levels, with aforementioned diet/exercise things (I haven't been exercising, like at all, for over a year now. Of course the agoraphobia came back as a result since even simple walks around the nightborhood would result in extreme panic attacks that made me question if I should go to the ER), meditation, just stuff I know works from experience from before I had medications (which I only started because I was sure I was going to get a part time job and I wanted to block out any symptoms of anxiety/depression essentially... and they stop working every month or so and then my doc would shove new drugs at me instead of suggesting a lifestyle approach)
So yeah, that's been the past few months for me. I do in fact still love this fandom and I will become far more active in it soon, but I'm trying to get through this semester intact when I'm going to be experiencing awful withdrawals on top of my regular anxiety/depression, so please bear with me.
I hate my brain so much. But I have to learn to nurture it rather than try to block every physiological response it has with meds like I have been the past 5 years.
On the bright side of things, I am working on a mer eclipse fic and have finished that frankenstein fic I told ya'll about a while ago, just needs some finishing touches when I'm in a better state of mind.
Not to mention a horror idea I quite literally just dreamed up. Which is incredibly fucked up and I love it.
Again, I apologize for disappearing on ya'll, I'll get to the other messages as soon as I'm able
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High Functioning, Low functioning
I read an article by someone with “high functioning depression”. A salaried writer. Their life is so hard, they said. They go to work on time every day and then they come home and cry. They meet all their deadlines and then they come home and cry. They earn $50,000 a year and then they come home and they cry.
I close the article. I see who shared it. Postgraduate student former wunderkind with wealthy parents. “Nobody knows how hard my life is,” they said.
I lie awake at night. I don’t sleep because I can’t afford hobbies that use energy. My life is a joke. I have no job. I have not had a job in 18 months. Prior to that I had a job for 2 months, after which I was fired for failing to get to work on time. Prior to that, I had no job for 6 months. Prior to that I had a job in a call centre that I was fired from for failing to meet the terms of my contract. I failed to meet the terms of my contract because I was suffering from PTSD – the sunny spring weather coinciding with Easter was just a little more than I could bear – and couldn’t concentrate for more than 5 minutes. I offered to get a doctors note, and was told it was too late, and that if I was too mentally ill to work I should have just not bothered coming in at all. Prior to that I tried to get my education. I dropped out against my will because I was having panic attacks about how we’re all going to die. Prior to that I tried to get my education. I dropped out because I was about to kill myself and had to go home to my parents who could look after me, whereupon I slept on a mattress on the floor for three months. I improved while sleeping on that mattress. I have no sense of self esteem, because no-one will hire me. If I was them I wouldn’t hire me either.
I take medication for my depression. I go to counselling. It goes in circles. I only ever get better for a few months at a time. On a psychological level, I cannot internalise that I am worth knowing, worth trusting, worth investing in, because with the exception of people who are as mad as I am, no-one will know, trust, or invest in me. “Who told you you are bad, worthless, not worth investing in?” Everyone, and if they thought differently I would have a job. I reached out to my favourite teacher from school, she responded. I replied back revealing more about how I think. She stopped responding.
I could say more about the former wunderkind. I don’t. But I know they’d rather kill themselves than be me, because they admitted it to me in private, offline.
I read an article by someone with “high functioning anxiety”. Their life is so hard, you see. Every day they make phone calls and their heart races. Every day someone slams a door and they start sweating. Every day they wake from nightmares and every day they wake up and they go to work on time because their anxiety won’t let them be late to anything. They do their job to the best of their ability, because their anxiety won’t let them be less than perfect. They make dozens of friends at work but it’s not real friendship because no-one knows the real them, the them with anxiety. Imagine being able to fucking hide your anxiety.
I went for an ADHD assessment once. I can’t concentrate, I said. I have struggled with school despite being very intelligent with a love for learning, because I cannot hold my focus for more than a few minutes. The assessor watches me closely throughout the assessment. He concludes that what I believe to be ADHD is actually panic attacks, and I have been having panic attacks whenever I try to do important things since I was 7 years old. I realise he is correct, because when I asked as a child, “how do you make yourself do your homework” I was told “just imagine the consequences of not doing it” and I told them I already do that and all that happens is I sit and shake and want to stab myself through the hand.
My anxiety tells me I am forgetting something terribly important when I am reaching for the front door. My anxiety messes with my short term memory, so I have always forgotten something important. My anxiety tells me something terrible will happen if I leave the house without that all-important thing. I am 10 minutes late leaving the house if I am lucky. Most days, I am 30 minutes late. Some days, I am 3 hours late, because I cannot shake that feeling that I am forgetting something and cannot remember what it is. Sometimes I am leaving the house and I remember I didn’t take out the laundry, or clean the dishes, and everyone in my house will be mad at me if I don’t take out the laundry and clean the dishes. My friends wait for me at the location for 2 hours, finding some way to pass the time while they wait for me. I am a burden to them.
I am afraid to go into the city, because the city is a half hour bus ride, and what if something goes wrong in the city and I have to get home? I grew up in this city. Nothing bad has ever happened in this city that couldn’t be managed. But if anything goes wrong, it will be me, or because of me, because I am a liability who ruins everything. I stay home.
I have to go to the shop, and spend my money on groceries, because if I do not go to the shop I will have to make someone else go to the shop, because I am a parasite and I am so sick of being a parasite, so I go to the shop. I arrive and get to the vegetables section and my heart starts pounding. My head goes light. The word agoraphobia means “fear of the marketplace”. I buy what I can remember and go home, thinking about how I am too mentally unwell to do the most basic of tasks. I get home and remember several things I forgot to buy. The supermarket is a five minute walk away. I do not go out again.
I open my e-mails to check my e-mails. I have a panic attack before the page has finished loading. 300+ unread e-mails, most of them spam that I cannot tolerate being in my e-mails folder long enough to unsubscribe from. Most of the spam are job postings. I click on a few job postings. “wanted, pastry chef, 3+ years experience”. “wanted, barista, 2+ years experience”. “Wanted, Chief Financial Officer of insurance company. Must have Masters in finance or equivalent in experience”. I apply for the night shift at the petrol station across the road. I am asked to fill out a personality assessment. I receive a rejection e-mail two days later.
I mention to bookshop clerk, who I am friendly with, that I don’t have issues with phone calls. “wow,” she says, “you’re so lucky, I can’t stand phone calls.” I tell her the trick is to remember that no-one has ever picked up the phone and when the conversation is over gone “wow, what a loser, what a piece of shit, calling me on the phone like that.” I know that sometimes they do when the person is sufficiently stupid, sufficiently a freak who asks weird questions, but they cannot see my face, so they will not remember this about me every time they see my face.
I bring a bag with me everywhere. It is big. Everything I could need goes in that bag. I have that bag because every time I have tried to leave the house without that bag, I have run out of pocket space before I leave the house and I cannot shake the feeling that it will not be OK if I don’t have literally everything. I leave the house and think, “what a fool I look, with this big bag, as I walk around the corner to the pharmacy and corner shop.” I think of my posture the entire time, and try not to hunch. I think of my gait, and try not to stagger. I think my thinning hair, permanently messy because I can’t afford a barber and can never get the angle right when I try to do it myself. I flatten my hair. I want no-one to remember me. I should not have left the house.
I go for a café job in a hospital. “your CV shows a distinct lack of loyalty”, the interviewer said. “You need to stay in a job for more than a year.” No-one will hire me, I said. “There are always people hiring” he said. They all want 2+ years experience, I said. “Excuses” he said. I do not get the job.
“The worst thing they can do is say no,” my partner always says. But as I am frequently told by people who mean it as a compliment, I am impossible to forget. Everyone always remembers me. They remember how I failed that interview. They remember when I say the wrong things. They remember when I start to shake in the vegetable aisle of Aldi.
I want no-one to remember me. I want to disappear. I want to remove myself from the lives of those that have the misfortune of knowing me. I have failed at everything I have ever done. I don’t have money so I cannot save for the future. There is no future. The future does not exist. There is only the terrible terrible now, stretching for years and years and years. And yet I will endure. It has to get better. It has to get better. If it can't get better, I can't keep going. So I will keep going because it has to get better.
College grad salaried writer complains about how their life is so hard with high functioning anxiety and depression. Mental illness that manifests as productive creativity, good manners, reliability. “nobody believes I’m depressed because I’m so successful” is what they are saying. Your sparkling CV is your cross to bear. You’d kill yourself if you were me.
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I mean ngl, I think Auger is great, I just wish his victory over the Unnamed was more convincing and epic, like if Mevolent tried to save him and gave him an opening or something
I'm not sure why Mev would try to save Auger and the other children considering these are not children from his dimension. He's a warlord, I'm pretty sure he himself has murdered kids before.
Unless maybe it was just a kneejerk reaction from him or an-enemy-of-my-enemy is my friend kinda thing. I doubt during that fight he was in the right mindset to do it for propaganda reasons.
When the Unnamed is marching towards the kids that had thrown fire balls at him, he mutters 'my turn' and sends a a blast of black fire their way just for it to get blocked by a wall of jagged ice. By now Mev has recovered and put his helmet back on (bc priorities) and is climbing through the hole the Unnamed had blast into the cafeteria wall. The Unnamed seemed almost amused.
"I see you're still suffering from delusions of heroism. But this isn't your fight. "
"Whether it's by my hand or another's, you're going back to Hell today." Mev's voice is raspy, but has the desired effect as the Unnamed instantly side glances where that blasted Obsidian Blade is. Mev attacks, trying to drive the Godkiller Sword through his torso, but he side steps and tries to send a blast of fire into Mev's face, which he barely manages to doge in time.
They swirl through the room in a dance of magic and blades. The teachers rush the kids out of the room since it would be too easy for them to become collateral damage with the speed and ferocity those two demi-gods are going at each other. The Unnamed is attacking Mev fiercely, trying to drive him off enough that he can catch a glimpse of his actual target. Meanwhile Mev is on the defence, protecting himself with walls of ice and rock when attacked, just to send the crumbled remains flying at the Unnamed each time he tries to back off followed by a flurry of sword slashes, forcing him back into engaging with him. Each time the Unnamed tries to form a ring of black fire around him to protect himself and keep Auger at a distance, Mev puts it out with gusts of wind and frozen floors to give the boy a chance to land a hit. And eventually he does.
The Unnamed stiffens as the blade is driven into his back. Mev halts his attacks and watches his former master disappear, watches, to his surprise, the blade break. It takes a few breaths for him to compose himself, panting still as he stares confused at the broken blade and then at Auger who meets his gaze with terror when he realizes that, yes, the Unnamed is dead, but that 8ft warlord with a Godkiller Sword in his hand is still there and his only way of defending himself, the Obsidian Blade, is broken.
The other students are peaking through the door while the teachers rush through in a panic when Mev approaches Auger, yet stop in their tracks when Mev just ruffles through the boys hair and mutters a silent "You did well." while walking past him. A wave of his hand and the shattered remains of the Obsidian Blade gather in his palm and he somehow finds a pocked without a hole in his ruined suit to let it disappear in.
"The rest of you, work on your defences. The strongest attack is worth nothing if you're dead five seconds into the fight." He speaks a little louder now, not even bothering to look at the teachers and students as he climbs back out of the hole again and takes off into the sky.
Everybody else is just starring at where he just stood, absolutely flabbergasted by the big bad from their history book showing up to help them defeat an even bigger big bad and the absolute gall of the man to act as if they are already his subjects/students tho he did absolutely did win a few fans during this stunt.
Complete big dick Chad energy.
I like the visuals of the Unnamed mainly using (black) fire and is on the attack while Mev uses every element but fire and his mainly focusing on ice and wind while on the defence, painting them is opposites in this battle. Also Mev hates the Unnamed so much he'd take a step back and let someone else take the glory for dealing the death blow as long as he just dies. Also him pocketing the remains of the Obsidian Blade provides another reason for people to free him from the Eternity Gate.
#Mevolent#Auger Darkly#the Unnamed#Seasons of War#answered#anonymous#I've read the fight scene for this ask#and it's even more cringe than I remember#the Unnamed isn't even fighting properly he just bitch slapping them around#and then gets fucked up by a few low level attacks from the students#plus I know my dialog ain't great but the exchange between the Unnamed and Auger was pure cringe#and felt like from a play written by a 5th grader#fixing canon
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Shortened Lifespan: Edelgard vs Lysithea
Now, technically, I’ve already made a post like this before, but I wanted it to be it’s own thing (brought about by a mutual tagging a post of mine and me wanting to go more into depth with it lol).
It’s been very widely accepted by the fandom that Edelgard and Lysithea both go through the expectation of living a shortened life due to the blood experiments done to them, with this partly being used as part of the defense/reasoning for Edelgard going to war instead of doing something more peaceful. She thinks she’s on a timer, like Lysithea, so she hard-starts change to work around her short-lived clock. Makes sense, on the surface.
But like I’ve mentioned on here before, I personally just can’t buy it. Nothing besides the immediate connection of “Edelgard and Lysithea both went through experimentation” suggests that Edelgard has the same shortened lifespan that Lysithea is suffering through.
More under the cut
One thing that immediately stands out, to me, are the differences between their stat spreads and growths (focusing on stats on this post).
Here are Edelgard’s (note: Statues not applied - add five to the stats if you want the true max values):
They are extremely good, especially for a default armor unit. Str and especially Mag are very high, average Dex and Spd (though notably good for an armor unit), good Def, amazing Charm. Her Luck and Res are the only things that are even kinda bad - it’d more accurate to say they’re below average, tho again, 47 Res on an armor unit is fairly high. In fact, of the units that lean towards armor, Edelgard has the highest Res, and even beats out some units that aren’t armor-leaning such as Claude and Felix. Even her seemingly low HP (for an armor) is mitigated by the fact that it’s still some of the highest for a female unit overall (the fifth highest, beat out by Petra, Rhea, Manuela, and Hilda)
What are Lysithea’s, in contrast? (blacked out everyone above her for easier reading):
...Uh. Yeah. In contrast to Edelgard’s far more even spread, Lysithea’s are skewed to fuck. The best Mag in the game and the second highest Dex (losing only to Claude’s 89), and some nice Spd, sure, but everything else takes an extremely large hit. 48 HP is the lowest in the game, pitiful Str and Def, and mediocre Luck, Res, and Charm. This girl is held together by toothpicks, Elmer’s glue, and God’s mercy.
So right off the bat, there’s a huge difference between the two of them in this regard, but I decided to go even further; just how off are Lysithea’s stats, actually? Some things make sense, like low Str and Def, so how different is she compared to others in her class type (magic users).
The magic users of the following factions have the Str stat underlined. First, BE:
BL:
GD:
CoS:
From what we can see, 30 Str isn’t actually out of the norm for a female magic user. The outliers are Rhea and Manuela with their Str in the low 50′s being not just the highest of the women, but of all the main magic users period, though part of that could be contributed to their age (vs Hanneman who is both older - in terms of physical age at least - and who does not focus on physical strength like someone like Gilbert) (Rhea being an older Nabatean could also attribute to this - notice Seteth’s stat spread which also has notably high Mag for a Wyvern Rider unit and Flayn’s, who is younger and who also had only recently woken from a centuries long sleep that she fell into after nearly dying, more odd spread). Following them for the women is Annette, who as we know lugs around a giant axe (Crusher’s weight is 11, making it heavier than most swords and bows and a good few lances - fun fact, it’s heavier than Areadbhar!) which likely lends to her having above average Str for her gender and unit type combination
Now, here’s the fun part: let’s look at the same unit’s Res stats
BE:
BL:
GD:
CoS:
Here’s where an interesting pattern shows up that’s fairly consistent: if a magic unit has bad Str, they have good/great Res to compensate, and vice versa. Annette’s above average Str (remember, for what she is) coincides with her bad Res, same as Manuela’s, and all the magic units with their ass Str have at least a respectable Res to go along with it. The only ones who break this rule are Rhea, due to her Str and Mag being fairly even with a lean towards magic (and also not being playable lol)... and Lysithea. Who has both a shit Str and shit Res stat. Even amongst her magical peers, Lysithea still stands out as particularly fragile and physically weak.
HOWEVER
Do note, for all of the above in terms of going over stats, that they aren’t necessarily the best indicator of anything in particular when it comes to a character; there is no version of me in the multiverse that will ever believe Manuela is stronger than Rhea or that Lorenz has the same amount of stamina as Dimitri, for example. But it is something to note when looking at Edelgard and Lysithea, due to them going through the same experiments and yet one is very clearly doing better in terms of damn near everything and the other very clearly lagging behind in damn near everything
Moving on, we have their Banes and Boons. Edelgard’s Boons are Axes, Swords, Heavy Armor, and Authority, with Banes in Faith and Bows. Of note, Edelgard will say in a Study Request that she believes it is her specifically having two Crests that allows her to be able to shrug on armor like it’s nothing, and her defaulting to an armor class with an axe as her default weapon makes her the literal heaviest she could theoretically be. On top of that, her Banes point to nothing about her physical health hindering her ability to do physically laborious feats.
Lysithea, on the other hand, has Boons in Faith, Reason, and Authority, with Banes in Swords, Lances, Axes, Heavy Armor, as well as Clearing Rubble as a Group Task activity. She has a budding talent in Swords - the lightest of the weapons she’s bad at and some of the lightest weapons in the game - that gives her access to a Combat Art that lets her use something other than Str to give Mt to her sword-based attack. Lysithea, in terms of Banes and Boons when compared to Edelgard (or anyone, really), is very clearly unable to do physically demanding things very well - it’s something she’s actively bad at doing and is a consistent fact about her that crops up in not just her stats and Banes and Boons, but also her supports. Edelgard’s situation is the same.
Edelgard has her supports with Ferdinand, as well as Ferdinand’s supports with Byleth, that showcase her being exceptionally good at combat in terms of physical fighting (as in, no magic, and having a talent in doing feats that would require a good amount of stamina). She beats Ferdinand in combat with one strike, and she is able to take on a Demonic Beast by herself while still fresh in the academy. There are no mentions of her being winded or tired from fighting, and she is more than once praised for her battle prowess.
Lysithea, meanwhile, has at least three supports (Byleth, Lorenz, Cyril) that indicate less than stellar stamina, health, and strength (she straight up faints in Byleth’s supports). While characters looking out for her health can maybe be somewhat attributed to her being one of the youngest students in the cast, the difference between and, say, Cyril, who’s even younger than her, is that she genuinely shows signs of ill health when she pushes herself too far, vs Cyril who is fine even with how much he works. When talking about her prowess in battle it is only ever in regards to her magical capabilities, not anything else, and she is seen constantly working on those capabilities.
And then lastly, there are their endings.
Edelgard has no endings that mention needing to be rid of her Crests - save one, which will be looked at in a bit. In particular, she has an ending with Hubert that indicates she lives on to her “later years,” which is usually attributed to a fairly old age. It is not, in this case, referring to Edelgard’s specific later years (for example, a person who lives to 30 can say their mid-twenties was the later years of their life), because it specifically says that she and Hubert live to their later years, which more likely points towards a longer life.
Lysithea in contrast has multiple endings that either has her and/or her lover actively looking for means to get rid of Lysithea’s Crests, or explicitly say that she dies young. There’s... not much more to add to that lmao
But! There is one ending with Edelgard that mentions her getting rid of her Crests, and it even says they restore her lost time! That’s proof positive, isn’t it?
Well, funnily enough, this is her ending with Lysithea that mentions this, and it... appears to be straight up incorrectly translated. As has been pointed out by others, the JPN ending doesn’t specifically mention restoring their lifespans, it simply says Edelgard and Lysithea “discovered a way to exchange the crest’s power for the restoration of a lost lifespan.” While, if we look at the surface level “Edelgard and Lysithea both had Crests implanted into them” similarity, it makes sense to attribute this restoration to the both of them, looking at everything else leans towards this statement mostly being for Lysithea. Which, given that this is the only ending - or really, the only place period - Edelgard has that even mentions her wanting to be rid of her Crest, let alone actively working towards it, it makes sense that this isn’t for her.
Now, all of the above isn’t directly pointing towards anything - it’s a lot of speculation, since nothing about Edelgard herself having a short life is ever explicitly said in the game. But when looking at all of the differences between Lysithea and Edelgard, when looking at how badly Lysithea stacks against everyone else vs how amazing Edelgard stacks, at how often dying young is mentioned with Lysithea vs Edelgard, at how much Lysithea focuses on her lifespan vs Edelgard, I personally just can’t believe that they’re similarly afflicted with a shortened life.
There’s almost nothing in the game to suggest that other than the one thing they have in common, which is the experiments themselves - if they do, then Edelgard simply doesn’t care as much about it as Lysithea, and/or it isn’t nearly to the extent of Lysithea, to the point where she feels no need to mention it anywhere. And this is the same character that brings up her ten dead siblings in the first support with the player character, so something as big as “oh yeah and I’m going to die relatively soon and young” feels like something she would similarly mention as something one should know about her, which she doesn’t. This seems, to me, to be just a popular fan theory that isn’t really all that supported in the game itself.
#Lysithea#Lysithea (fire emblem)#Edelgard#Edelgard (Fire Emblem)#exqueuese me princess#can this be considered meta?#to be 100% clear: this is my opinion based on what's in the game#all good if you don't agree!
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Obey Me: Diavolo - Wrapped up in ribbon/bondage
Fandom: Obey Me
Pairing: Diavolo x MC (F)
Prompt: Wrapped up in ribbon - Day 13 from @voltage-vixen christmas list.
Warning: Ribbon bondage.
Notes: For my love @theinariakuma a small thank you and token of appreciation for everything you do for me.
Diavolo was the ruler of all demons, a prince of the realm, and soon to be king with a powerful stance that could bring down rival kingdoms with a simple glare. He was known for his power and strength, sending people cowering to hear he was displeased with them. Rumours and legends however failed to praise his kind heart and almost boyish features. How a heart of pure gold was beating beneath thick layers of taut muscles and nothing but joy seemed to spread wherever he went.
They also failed to mention the prince's undivided love for a human girl, a human girl who was tiny in comparison to his frame. A girl who came as part of the exchange student program only to capture the heart of the Prince - she also gave him her heart in return for his. He would anything, anything, for her. Renounce his title and throne, part ways with his powers, even give up the luxuries of his name and lifestyle just to be with her.
But that was never the case, the girl instead giving up her life in the human world to stay by his side when the time came for her program to end. Effectively pledging herself to Diavolo and his service.
“I love you so much.” A clawed hand with jet-black nails cradled her face, his forehead resting against hers with his eyes shut.
“I love you too Dia…” Her face mirroring his, her arms wrapped around his neck as she straddled him on the chair beside the fireplace. This being one of the only ways for them to be at eye level with each other.
“Are you sure? Because I can’t change it once I do, are you sure it’s me you want to be with-“ Anxiety taking over him as his fingers quaked against her skin, the nerves he felt at his question shining through his champagne orbs as he opened them.
“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” She smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips, admiring the handsome features of the face before her. “It’s you Diavolo, it’s always been you,”.
The night blended into the day, the couple rising from their slumber. Everything had changed. A mark now rested upon her skin, Diavolo having made a pact with her during the night binding the couple together for eternity. And from that day on they became the prince and princess to be of the realm. Trust, love and passion growing fiercer with every passing day.
-
Christmas was settling fast, it was her first Christmas as a couple with Diavolo. And in all honesty, it was more overwhelming than the festive spirit she was used to at home. Whilst technically demons didn’t celebrate Christmas, they still indulged in the festivities. Lucifer claimed it was a “waste of time” but Diavolo was mad for it. He had black Christmas trees imported from the human world, decorations of gold hung from every street post and the castle was covered head to toe in glitter, baubles and anything else that screamed Christmas.
Every night for a week leading up to Christmas was a different themed ball or celebration - and while they were great fun, the human girl was exhausted. Demons were built to handle huge amounts of drinking, gambling and partying with little to no sleep. Whilst she often retired early. Diavolo found her on day four passed out asleep in the kitchen, resting her head on her elbows in front of the roaring open fire. He’d also caught Beelzebub scoffing at ginger-snake cookies but he left that slide for now, picking up the girl and carrying her to bed.
But tonight was Christmas Eve, she only had to listen for a few more hours about bitter matters, war strategies and other uninteresting things. Everyone in the kingdom wanted to speak to Diavolo, and being his partner meant she had to endure it all, smiling at his side and nodding courteously like she understood the topic. Truth be told, all she wanted was some alone time with Diavolo, with preparation and the festivities they rarely had a moment alone together. And for over half of the week she had found herself going to bed and waking up alone, no need for sleep as Diavolo continued to party from dusk to dawn.
“You look so beautiful,” Diavolo pulling her out of her trance as he stood behind her, pressing kisses to shoulder and moving up the base of her neck. Letting out a content sigh, she relaxed back into his embrace closing her eyes. She’d missed him, everything about him from his scent to his touch to the way his eyes light up when they talked about their day over a glass of wine.
“Thank you, I’ve been saving this all week,” A deep smile on her face to feel him grin against her skin, pressing kisses against her jaw line. “I’ve missed you.”
“But you’ve been with me all week,” He teased, turning her in his arms. The satin red dress she wore held her cleavage perfectly up, her waist pulled in by the gold ribbon and the material of her dress settled midway between her thighs.
“Diavolo,” She whined, wrapping her arms around his neck. Admiring the beauty of the creature before her, dressed head to toe in his finest clothes and jewellery, his looks would make a god jealous.
“I know, I know.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose. “I’ve missed you too, even though we’re together it feels like I never get to see you.” He throws her a cheeky grin that threatens to make her knees buckle, “Not in the way I want to anyway.”
Used to his flirtatious ways, all she does is giggle in response. A week of not being intimate was unheard of for them, normally their day starting off with her riding him, a cheeky blow job under his desk when she visited him for lunch (more or less everytime ending up with Diavolo eating her out or fucking her over his desk), a teasing filled time in the shower together before making love in their bed for the rest of the evening. It was a routine, a routine they both loved.
“I mean.. we have time now, we could be quick.” Red tinted her cheeks as she spoke, curling tufts of hair against her fingers as she intertwined them at the base of his neck.
“You know very well, us and quick doesn’t work well,” Laughing as they both reminisced over the time in the throne room. “We’ll be quick” he told her, letting her ride him on the throne in the empty hours of the morning. Only for Lucifer and the rest of his council to turn up just when they were both reaching climax, Diavolo having to keep her seated with his cock buried inside her for just short of an hour as they discussed plans. “I promise as soon as this evening is over with, I shall be yours, my princess,” Diavolo took her hands from his head and pressed a few delicate kisses to her knuckles. He always was a man true to his word.
The ball seemed to last forever, lavish guests drinking copious amounts of demonus, sharing and swapping stories over finger nibble food. It was all great fun, but the way Diavolo kept a tight grip on her waist and the smouldering look he would shoot her every now and then just made her want to run upstairs to bed with him. Or anywhere they could be alone for that matter. It only grew worse as they were encouraged to dance, subjects demanding to see the royal couple be the first dance of the evening.
“This ball was a stupid idea,” Diavolo whispered as he held her close, one hand around her waist whilst the other took her palm in his. The height difference made it difficult at times, she had to gaze up at him in order to speak with him. Although watching her doe-like eyes focus on him, her face glowing with a smile that was brighter than the stars, he grew to love their size differences. She was his tiny human and he was her beast sized prince.
“Then next year don’t host so many.” Letting him guide her as the music began to play, waltzing slowly across the ballroom.
“It was the council's choice, normally I wouldn’t mind.” He grinned down, a smile she knew all too well. “I can’t wait to just take you back to our room,”.
“Someone’s impatient tonight.” Her turn to tease as he pulled her flush against him, her eyes widening to feel the press of his erection against her thigh.
“Can you feel what you're doing to me? Dressed so beautifully… looking like this, I have half a mind to tell everyone to leave so I can fuck you right here.” He practically growls in a low tone. The gaze that bore down on her was enough to speak the words he couldn’t say in the moment, desire written across his eyes.
“Oh my prince, you have no idea what you do to me,” She winked as he spun her, pulling her back to him to keep her enclosed in his hold forever. “Want to wait until everyone’s dancing and sneak back to the room?”
“You read my mind princess,” He dipped her down, her back only a few inches off the ground but pure trust as Diavolo held her. He followed her down and pressed a fleeting kiss to her lips, the crowd cheering them and raising glasses to the beautiful couple.
-
“Mmh!” Muffled moans echoing off the twisted stone stairway, Diavolo pressing the girl against his with mouth against hers. Sneaking off hand in hand as the crowd began to fill the dance floor, only managing to get past the wooden oak door to the staircase when he began his attack.
“Diavolo! Please, let’s make it up stairs at least," She giggled followed by a sweet gasp as his lips moved fiercely over her neck. “Or I mean we could just...“
“Another time.” He smirked, they were currently on a mission to defile every room in the castle. They hadn’t gotten very far, it was a bit difficult when Barbartos was lurking, seeming to always be one step ahead of them and ruining their fun - although part of Diavolo thought he did it to try and be part of the couple's activities. Which would never happen, she was his soon to be queen, Diavolo would not share her with anyone. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?" Her hands toying with his suit jacket, popping buttons one by one until she reached the bottom. “I really hope it’s,” She undid the button of his trousers, feeling his teeth scrape over the pulse over her neck. Her hand diving beneath the material of his boxers, “Hot and thick.” His half hard cock becoming instantly erect from her hand as it wrapped around him.
“Princess…” He groaned against her neck, indeed he was hot and thick. Weighing heavy in her hand whilst her other came to cup his balls, softly kneading as her other hand stroked his shaft. Her hand barely wrapped around his inhuman size.
“Come on my Prince, what do you say?” She teased, squeezing him in the palm of her hand as he licked the exposed side of his neck. Her tongue leaving a wet trail as she sucked up over his pulse, a loan groan rumbling off the stone walls. “We tick the stairs off the list.”
A squeal bounced off the stone, Diavolo removing her hands hoisting her over his shoulder as he pulled his boxers up, his erection poking out of his open trousers. One hand slapped her behind as he began his trek upstairs, running two steps at a time whilst using his other hand to hold up his trousers, desperate to reach their bedroom.
-
“Dia…” She rested naked on their bed, legs stretched out on her elbows. Diavolo having made quick work of undressing her before dashing to their bathroom, telling he was going to get her surprise ready.
“I’m coming my love,” Chuckling as he opened the door, taking in a few steps to stand before. Red ribbon wrapped around tanned skin, Diavolo bare as he wrapped himself up. Glitter reflecting off his abdomen, solid v-lines curving down to his erect cock, a wisp of ribbon in a bow placed against his flushed head. In his hands he toyed with more ribbon, almost blushing at the way she hungrily devoured him in her sight.
His cock twitched as she crawled to him, resting up on her knees and running the flat of her palms up his chest. Slender arms wrapping around his neck, pushing herself against him as she hummed against his lips.
“Surprise!” He grinned, his hands moving to hold her waist, fingertips drumming against her behind. “I know how we haven’t had a lot of time lately, so this is my gift to you for tonight,”.
“It’s perfect, you're perfect.” Tongue darting out to swiped across her top teeth, finger tips tickling back down his chest to run along the red ribbon. “And, it’s *all* mine right?” Her question followed by her hand gripping tightly over his cock and tugging it. Diavolo cursed heavily, unable to stop the buck of his hips as he rutted against her hand.
“All yours, princess.” Jaw dropped as he growled, sending excitement tingling down her spine. His reaction sent a gush of heat between her thighs, arousal thick in the air.
“Well then,” Tracing the ribbon with her other hand and pulling the satin to unwrap from his body, leaving it limp in her hands. A smirk gracing over her face, the ruler of Devildom at her completely and utter mercy.
-
A deep groan, one that shook the bottles of lube on the bedside table onto their sides. A noise leaving Diavolo that made her thighs clench tightly and the desire to stop her teasing, the rumble purely demonic and utterly erotic.
“You're doing so good baby,” She teased, the tight grip on his cock releasing which has caused the noise from the Prince. He was close to shattering, tugging harshly at the rope but the knots she had tied proved to be a match for his strength.
“Princess please,” Thrusting his hips up into the air with wild abandonment, teeth gritting to feel her hand pull away.
“What’s wrong my Prince? Can’t handle a bit of teasing?” Her smug grin peering down at him, his face redder than the ribbons around his wrists. Pressing her hands to his chest she leaned down, letting her slickened folds rub against his aching cock. Head buried between his shoulder and sinking teeth in gently making him roar out, rutting his hips as best he could against her to gain some friction. But the clamp of her thighs over him as she straddled him stopped his actions, whining heavily with a mixture of pants as all he could do was fall victim to her motion.
“Tell me what you want.” A sly grin over her face, ghosting her lips above his whilst her fingertips gilded up back of his cock. Throbbing and twitching, too sensitive from how she’d been edging him all night. Little regard to how much time had passed, each time his release would build up and he throbbed in her hand, she would pull away. Over and over until his thighs quacked and he’d throbbed instantly when her hand wrapped around him. When Diavolo didn’t reply, too desperate to feel her against him, his lips chasing hers desperately unable to thrust up. Liquid tears filling in his eyes, never had been so vulnerable - a side that was only and forever for her.
“Please…” It was so weak she barely heard it.
“Hand or mouth?” She teased, finally kissing him for the first time since she’d tied him to the bed. He kissed so eagerly, tongue instantly darting out in her mouth as she wrapped her a hand back around him, pumping slowly. “Come on baby, tell me,” All he could do was groan in response, weak words falling out of his mouth in a foreign tongue. “Want me to suck it? Suck your cock?” Grinning against his mouth, as he nodded, the headboard creaking under the strength of he was tugging at the ribbon at.
Wet open kisses moved down his chest, one hand cupping his balls while the other held the base of his cock. The first tongue of her tongue against his chest sent him reeling, pushing his hips up desperate for more. “That’s it,” She cooed softly against him, “Such a good boy for me Dia.” Her lips wrapped around him, pushing her tongue on the underside of his shaft as she pulled him deeper into his mouth. Until the head hit the back of her throat, her hand stroking the wide base that didn’t fit in her mouth. Shallow but quick movement, throat constricted around his length that left her slightly light headed.
Diavolo panted heavily, the air from his lungs burning - an almost fear that she would stop once more and leave him on the cusp on the edge. But instead she twisted her wrist, hallowed her cheeks with more pressure and hummed as he filled her mouth. A strong string of curses leave him, his throat parched as he gasped out. Spilling down the back of her throat with a force, the girl unable to take it all as thick spurts coaxed over her lips and chin, dribbling down her skin. Her hand continued to stroke him gently, ensuring to ride out his high until he was shaking in her hold.
Tongue darting out she licked her lips as his cock jolted in her hold, the sensitivity making him tremble as he whined loudly. His breathing still ragged, unable to find his voice as throat felt hoarse. He shifted as best he could, keeping eye contact with her held as she swallowed what was released in her mouth, wiping the dripping semen off her chin and sucking her finger clean. Her other hand squeezing his cock as she did.
And that was when he snapped.
The sound of the headboard breaking came first, the snapping of splintering wood filling the room, a scream followed. Diavolo having used every fibre in his sensitive body to snap his hands free from the ribbon, running the bed in the process as he pinned the girl down beneath him.
“My turn,” He growled, bringing the tattered ribbon up as he pinned her hands above her head and tied them in a fierce knot. Hunger, power and lust clouded over his orbs, a low growl resolving over his glowing, sweating body.
And before she could even make a squeak, Diavolo had flipped her over, pulling up her ass as spread her cheeks to get a sinful look at her glistening folds. His effect on her had arousal slicked all down the top of her thighs.
“Might not even need to prepare you, look wet enough to slide right in.” He teased, two fingers pressing straight into her core as they sunk in with ease, knuckle deep as her cunt sucked them in.
“Please.. please.” Grasping at the sheets as she bucked against his hand, clenching purposely over him.
“Hands or cock princess,” Hand coming down on her ass in a short slap, chuckling at her as she pulsed over him. The needy whine that left her was made his cock re-harden and pressed against her reddening cheek.
“C-cock.. fuck me, Diavolo, please.” Pushing herself backwards as an offering, the slope of her back pressed her chest against the bed as her hands fisted the bed sheets.
Leaning over her body, Diavolo pulled her fingers from her as she ran them over her chin, leaving a slick trail of her own arousal on her skin. His teeth biting her lower lobe but refusing to push his cock into her. “Anything you want princess,” His voice husky in her ear as he finally pressed himself into her, burying himself to the hilt as he thrusted in one solid movement.
Sending her clamping down and instantly climaxing, Diavolo biting into her shoulder as he rutted against her, fingers sinking into her skin and forming bruises. “That’s it, good girl princess.” Cooing the words she had used on him. He stilled his thrusts, pushing himself as deep as he could, tilting back his hips to angle himself perfectly inside her. Hitting exactly where stars flooded her eyes and her skin boiled hot.
“Please… please!” She begged, turning her head over his shoulder and feeling herself whine in an inhuman sound. Diavolo in demon form, his muscles rippling as it took all his strength to keep still inside her. His revenge for how much she had edged him. “Please move…”.
The tears welling in her eyes spoke a thousand words, glossed over with nothing but pure lust as her flushed lips parted in gentle breaths. The sight of her breaking him as he pulled back until his head was the only part inside her. “Hold tight princess,” He groaned before slamming his hips tightly against her, her hands gripping tightly to anything she could find in the restricted movement of them being bound.
Her Christmas present left her ruined that year.
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The Bet
Hotch x Fem!Reader
Request: @honeyshelley - ‘Hiii, I just discovered you and I hope to read soon your work ! And i hope you are safe and healthly ❤ i wondered if you could write something for Hotchner, the reader can be a police officer who call the bau for help to catch a serial killer or something, a bit of angst maybe and write only of you are inspired ! Don't force yourself, 🤗’
Warnings: Panic attack description, mild CM content.
A/N: Man, I love Hotch. They did him DIRTY on CM because he stood up for his cast mates and I’ll never forgive CBS for it.
Hotch was annoyed.
Though a regularly occurring emotion for him, it was rarely so focused upon himself. Today he stood in the conference room of the D.C. FBI Field Office, where they were assisting on a local case. And he was irritated with only himself.
Because of you.
He didn’t blame you in the least, of course. He wasn’t irrational, wasn’t one to deflect or project his emotions onto others-least of all someone entirely innocent and unaware. It was just exhausting, though, working this case. You were a new addition to the field office, having just transferred from Seattle in hopes of further advancing your already impressive career within the FBI. Hotch had heard of you before, details of your more prolific cases and intense work ethic were often relayed by Spencer Reid, who was one to stay up on fellow agents that might one day suit the BAU team.
And while Hotch had been impressed, mildly interested, happy to get a chance to work with you, he had not expected the woman who walked through the front lobby and extended her hand to him three days prior. No, you had caught him entirely off guard, and he was still reeling. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman in...probably ever if he was honest with himself. Hailey and he were high school sweethearts-that kind of love was different, steady and safe and expected. Beth had caught his attention, her kindness and overall different lifestyle an alluring escape from the realities of his day to day. But things never really took off with her, despite their mutual respect.
But you, well you had him captivated the moment he met your friendly gaze, your eyes wide in clear excitement for getting a chance to work with the BAU. Your hand grasped his and he’d felt like time had slowed, just enough that he could take in every single detail as he introduced himself. The way your hair fell, the curve of your hips, the small pout of your lips. Your posture, head held high to convey the message that you were a leader, not one to be overlooked. It all struck him at the moment, and when you repeated his name in your breathy voice, he knew he was done for.
Three days later the case was going well, though there was an uphill battle, progress was progress. Hotch was happy with how his team was performing. They’d worked plenty of cases with the staff of the D.C. field office. With different sections, and even interacted with many of the agents in social settings and workplace functions, given the proximity to Quantico. But Hotch felt he wasn’t working at his best, behaving entirely unlike himself as he was completely distracted by you every time you stepped into the room.
It had been three days of variable torture, his mind continually informing him of the why not’s-the age gap, that you probably already had a partner, that Hotch was damaged and cursed and certainly didn’t deserve a woman like you. And then you’d bring him a coffee, or stand closely next to him as you both surveyed a map provided by Reid, or tuck your hair behind your ear with a little smile when the conversation turned away from work, and Hotch would feel hot and bothered and not at all like himself.
“Agent Hotchner?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, his gaze lifting from the tablet he’d been pretending to read, and meeting yours. You smiled down at Hotch, leaning against the table where he sat. The scent of fresh linens and honeysuckle wafted toward him, delighting his senses further.
Hotch returned your smile automatically, something he was aware was rare for him. He hadn’t needed Derek mentioning it last night as they made their way out the doors, calling attention to his sudden eagerness to smile around the beautiful, strong new agent. But Derek had always enjoyed teasing him when he could get away with it.
“I’m sorry, Agent (Y/L/N), did you say something?” Could you hear his heart right now, as it beat against his chest? The thrum, thrum, thrum signalling just how you affected every cell within his body-could you sense it?
You smirked, extending a coffee you’d been clutching toward him with a small shrug, “I think you need this more than I do, sir.” You giggled, and Hotch’s cheeks flushed in response. His fingers brushed yours when he gratefully took the proffered beverage and he felt a shiver of electricity across his skin.
Hotch nodded in thanks, “Cases like this always seem to require extra coffee.” He admitted, taking a sip and noting how you enjoyed your coffee much sweeter than he did, but at that moment he didn’t mind. It was quality coffee, hot and given by you.
Sighing, you crossed your arms and Hotch kept his gaze level with yours despite the captivating way your breasts pushed out. Inwardly, he chastised himself for his train of thought. You were his colleague. His colleague. His very beautiful, disarmingly charming colleague.
“I agree, though they come along often enough that it’s starting to become a poor excuse for overindulging.”
Hotch glanced down at his mug as he laughed, then back up. When he met your eyes, he noticed they widened slightly, a faint flush dusting your cheeks. This captured his attention fully, but before he could begin to consider how to move forward, how to find out what your blushing meant, Derek and Emily walked into the conference room, heads low.
Another victim had been found.
+
“I really hate alleyways. I think society needs to eliminate them entirely,” You said, your hand clapped over your nose and mouth to ease the intensity of the scent of rotting flesh from the victim that you, Hotch and Reid were staring down upon. “After this case, I’m petitioning for it here-at least within my jurisdiction.”
Hotch laughed aloud. Reid glanced up from the victim, brows furrowed and opened his mouth to no doubt educate you on everything and anything he knew about alleyways. Which you assumed was a lot, because you’d known the genius a few days now and already understood there was little he didn’t know. But you shook your head, resting a hand on his arm as you laughed.
“She’s joking,” Hotch supplied, giving you a warm smile as Reid nodded in understanding. Your knees trembled every time this man looked at you, and you were surprised you didn’t just collapse the moment he flashed you that gorgeous grin. Fuck, you had it bad.
You’d always had a thing for older men, though you hadn’t dated any. You had had a few previous relationships with men your age, either fellow students in college or agents at the academy, but they were all short-lived. You counted some of those men amongst your closest friends. But you focused instead on your career and hoped one day a suitable partner would appear.
You hadn’t expected Agent Aaron Hotchner to tick every single box on your list the moment he introduced himself and those dark, warm eyes searched your face, as though he was seeing something unexpected. You’d spent the last few days finding any excuse to work with or near him, even going so far as to join him and Reid at this most recent crime scene despite how much you really, truly hated alleys.
Nothing good ever happened in an alley, as far as you were concerned, and though you tried to hide your discomfort behind humour, you were eager to assess the scene and get the hell out of the narrow, stifling gap carved between two old buildings.
It was a short while later, when the crime scene photographer was following your instructions, you and the two men on either side of you discussing the case from the vantage of the latest victim, that the discomfort began to fester. It evolved, so slowly you hadn’t realized until suddenly your spine felt tight and your level-headedness seemed to disintegrate. You swallowed, setting your jaw and working to disassociate yourself from your surroundings, hopeful the renowned BAU agents were too focused on their work to recognize your sudden internal struggle for composure.
Though, it seemed that Agent Hotchner had been paying attention, and you couldn’t fathom why. At first, you saw his eyes sweep over you from the corner of his own, taking in your stiff posture, the way your hands clenched at your sides. You thought he would leave it alone, be embarrassed for you when suddenly his large hand was slowly pressing into your lower back. Your shirt pressed to your skin and it was then that you realized the layer of sweat that had broken out over your body as your panic attack raged within.
You closed your eyes briefly, focusing on that hand, but it wasn’t enough. The alley was too narrow, too damp and hot, the odour in the air foul and suffocating. “Come with me.” He suddenly murmured in your ear, and you didn’t hesitate to comply, moving with Hotch as his hand remained on your back, guiding you to the mouth of the alley. Once you were on the street, he moved toward the SUV that you’d all driven over in.
Using the keys, he opened the trunk and gestured for you to take a seat. Again, you followed his instructions, lifting yourself, legs dangling slightly. You still couldn’t breathe, even though the air out here in the open was moving, fresh, a soft breeze dancing across your skin.
You felt like the air wasn’t meant for you anymore, your lungs incapable of pulling it in.
Hotch leaned in front of you, his warm eyes full of concern, “Can I touch you?” He asked you, voice low. You nodded, and his hands found your shoulders, grasping gently. After a moment, during which he gauged your reaction to his touch, his grip tightened and his hands slide up and down your upper arms, grounding you somewhat. “Close your eyes, breath with me, sweet girl.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you followed his suggestion and began to take deep breaths as your eyes closed. Your hands lay flat on your thighs, applying your own slight pressure. He took exaggerated breaths to ensure you could hear him and match your own.
You weren’t sure how long you and Hotch stayed like this, but his movements never ceased, and you could feel his eyes watching you. When your breathing evened out, you focused instead on the cool air, the strength behind his hands on you. Slowly, you opened your eyes and met his. “I’m sorry, I-“
Hotch shook his head, “You have nothing to apologize for. We’ve all been there.”
You smiled shyly at his words, nodding. “Well, thank you. This...it really helped.” You watched as he returned your smile, his right hand releasing your arm to brush falling strands of your hair over your shoulder. The gesture alone was enough to make you shiver again, your mind and body reconnecting as your panic attack diminished.
He seemed to notice your reaction this time, and pulled his hands back, appearing surprised. He didn’t move away, though, for which you were grateful. You weren’t ready for the moment to end.
“I hope I didn’t overstep, Agent.” He muttered, his serious frown returning. You shook your head quickly, eager for him to understand just how much you appreciated what he’d just done for you.
“You can call me (Y/N),” You replied quietly, considering your next words carefully. “Although...I didn’t mind sweet girl if I’m being honest.”
You had held his gaze as you spoke, which allowed you to bear witness to the emotions that played across the usually stoic man's face. Shock morphed into a small smile that met his butterscotch eyes, a blush creeping across his skin and his right hand moved to rub the back of his neck nervously. After a few moments, which you could see he was using to come up with a reply, he sat down next to you, your sides touching. He sighed with a smile.
“Could I take you to dinner once this case wraps up, (Y/N)?”
A grin spread across your face at his words, and, feeling bold, you took his hand into yours as you looked up at the handsome man. “I’d love that, Aaron.” You squeezed.
His eyes lit up at your reply and he returned your pressure as he smiled down at you. You stayed like that for a long while, grinning at one another like lovesick kids, so enamoured that you both missed Reid pulling out his phone to snap a picture.
He sent the photo to the team, conceding defeat to Derek and Emily, who had both bet it would take only three days for Hotch to ask you out. Spencer had bet on four days, JJ on a week, and Garcia on a week after the case would wrap up.
Now he was out forty bucks, but it was worth it to see the smiles lighting you both up as you gazed at one another. The rest of the world was background noise.
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#reader insert#fanfic#aaron hotch x reader#hotch x reader#aaron hotchner#bau x reader#fluff#criminal minds#hotch x y/n#requested#feedback appreciated#spencer reid#olderguy#comfort
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Bad Influence - Beelsnack's 666 Follower Special!!
(Technically I'm over 666 - shoutout to the porn bots)
But seriously, holy shit, there's a lot of you. Thank you all so much for liking my stuff, and for interacting with me and sending me good vibes and all of that. I hope I can keep giving you guys quality work!!
And yes, I am a nerd and I consider 666 a milestone for a blog for a bunch of demons. No, I'm not sorry.
-----
Lucifer: He couldn’t help but wonder when the change had set in.
When the human first arrived in the Devildom, they had been humble and meek. If anyone complimented them, they deflected it with the mastery and resignation of someone who had been doing it for far longer than they should have. And if someone thanked them? You would think their entire world was dissolving around them.
But now?
He extended a gloved hand towards them as they descended the stairs. Tonight was one of the rare nights where they had the opportunity to be alone without one of his brothers tagging along, and they had been planning this date for nearly a week now. They slipped their hand in his without any of the hesitation they would have shown at first. They knew they deserved his reverence.
“You look radiant as always, my dear,” he curled his fingers around theirs as they reached the bottom step, bringing the backs of their knuckles to his lips. “Surely there is no star in the sky that could outshine you.”
They laughed - his theatrics always did amuse them. “You do have amazing taste, after all.”
He chuckled as well, guiding the two of them to the front door. “Of course. Do you think the Avatar of Pride would associate with anyone less than the best?”
“Definitely not,” the wind that came through the door when they opened it blew their hair away from their face, and Lucifer couldn’t help but preen at the fact that he had helped that quivering little animal grow into the proud swan that stood before him.
“Speaking of the best, where are we going for dinner?”
“Don’t worry, my dear,” he laughed as they made their way out into the night. “You deserve the world, and the world you shall get.”
“Unless ‘the world’ means a steak dinner, I’m not interested.”
Mammon: “Come on, don’t leave me hangin’ out here!”
The curtain covering the entrance to the changing room rustled, and Mammon heard a faint “Fine, fine, just give me a sec!” before it finally opened and out stepped the human.
Mammon always thought they looked good no matter what they were wearing, even if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Actually, especially if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. But seeing them decked out in his fashion brand - one he had both designed and modeled - was definitely making him feel some type of way.
He let out a low whistle when they stopped in front of the chair he had seated himself in. The results of his own shopping spree were tucked haphazardly into a colorful assortment of bags at his feet, but the human had taken a bit longer than he did picking out their stuff. And damn, was he glad they did, because otherwise he wouldn’t get the chance to see them modeling his clothes.
It was a private fashion show, just for him.
The outfit itself was pretty simple. A black fitted tee beneath a cropped leather jacket, a pair of faded dark-blue skinny jeans, and a pair of black sneaks with a gold stripe going up the side. But the thing that brought the whole outfit together was the long necklace with a topaz pendent resting against their breastbone.
“Well?” they asked, giving him a spin before striking a pose before him. “What do you think?”
For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The human wearing his clothes...it was the next best thing to them walking around with “I Belong To Mammon” tattooed on their forehead.
“I, uh...I guess you...um,” he swallowed thickly. “Ya look alright, I guess.”
“That’s tsundere for ‘you look hot,’ right?” they grinned before spinning around to look in the mirror. “Man, this is a whole look! I have to have it!”
If this had been a few months ago, the human would have waffled back and forth about whether or not to buy anything. It didn’t matter how much they wanted something, it was almost like they just couldn’t do anything nice for themselves. There was being frugal, and then there was deprivation. Now, though, was completely different.
“I wonder if I should get some shades to go with?” they mumbled, looking themselves over in the mirror. “I think that would really pull it together, don’t you?”
“Just don’t go for the Ray Bans, it’s a fucking scam.”
Leviathan: "Come on, come on, come on…"
Very rarely was Levi the one watching someone else play games, unless it was a stream. And as mind-blowingly awesome it would be to watch the human stream one of his current faves, he definitely didn't want other people seeing how adorable they looked when they were focused.
They had come to him with absolute determination in their eyes, begging him to help them out. There were a limited amount of UR armor sets in the event, and they needed to get their hands on one. And, well, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't help them out?
(The fact that he already scored the armor is irrelevant.)
So, here they were, camped out in the pillow nest that they often made for themselves when gaming in his room, laser focused on the screen with Levi giving them guidance. The event level was brutal, but they were in the final hours, so it was crunch time.
"Okay, this boss is easy once you know the attack pattern. Four regular slashes, a jab, then you've got about five seconds to get behind a pillar before it uses the AOE."
"Gotcha."
Even then, it was a long battle, and they had used up most of their healing potions by the time the monster let out an anguished roar and disintegrated into a pile of bones. The human held their breath as they moved towards it to gather their loot.
"Yes!!"
They practically leaped out of the pillow nest in triumph. There, right on the top of the loot list in shimmering gold font, and the UR armor that they had been coveting.
"I got it! I got it!" they cheered. "Levi, I finally got it!"
"Hell yeah you did!" the two of them shared a crisp high five as the results of the campaign loaded on the screen. It was updating in real time, so they could watch as the final moments of the event ticked away.
Levi knew what they were looking for. Early on in the dungeon, another player had done them real dirty, sniping them from a few levels above and then taunting them over VC about how they would never get the armor now. So of course that only inspired the human to work harder, and here they were.
3...2...1
Event over. Quickly, the human scrolled up to the beginning of the list, checking the names of all the players who scored the armor.
Levi sat next to them, chewing his lip. What was that person's tag again? He didn't remember.
Suddenly, the human let out a snort that turned into a full-on giggle fit.
"They didn't get it!" they cackled like a hyena. "Serves them right, the jackass!"
Levi was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to laugh at the misfortune of others. But, he knew better than anyone that spite was a hell of a motivator. When they had first gotten themselves isekai’d into the Devildom, they had let demons walk all over them, Levi had personally witnessed a lower-level demon shove them out of the way to get a sandwich they had been reaching for, and the human just stood there and let them take it. But they had grown to be a little more selfish, and if they wanted something, they were taking it.
And maybe, just maybe, seeing them like that turned him on just a little bit.
Satan: "You want to come and say that to my face?"
Satan stood there in stunned silence as the human spun on their heel to look the demons right in the eyes. They had their back to him, so Satan couldn't see the look on their face, but whatever it was made the two lesser demons flinch.
"Hey, come on, Human, we were just joking."
"Yeah, no need to get all worked up."
They scoffed, and Satan knew them well enough to know that they were rolling their eyes. "Is that right? So you don't think I'm a...what was it? A fleshy meat sack who thinks they can get what they want by sleeping with the strongest demons in the Devildom?"
Another flinch. Satan chuckled to himself.. Did those morons really think they wouldn't hear them? Humans might not have super-heightened senses but they weren't deaf.
A small crowd had begun gathering around them, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't every day one of the human exchange students squared up to a demon.
"You've got some nerve," the human drew themself up to their full height - which, admittedly, was laughable compared to most demons - and crossed their arms. "What do you think Lord Diavolo would do to demons who messed with his exchange students?"
"I believe there's a special spot in the Royal Torture Chambers for such demons," Satan came to stand next to them, and the other demons downright cowered. "If I recall correctly, there's an Iron Maiden down there."
"Ooh, cool!"
"Alright, we get it!" One of the demons cried, throwing their hands up defensively. "We're sorry!"
Satan opened his mouth to spit a curse at them, but the human beat him to it. "I've got Lord Diavolo on speed dial, so start running."
The two demons turned tail and booked it down the hallway, nearly crashing into Beelzebub as he turned the corner with a sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He stood frozen for a moment before he swallowed and turned to Satan and the human.
"Were those two bothering you guys?"
Satan cast a sideways look at the human before a wicked grin spread across his face.
"They took care of it."
Asmodeus: "Well, someone's feeling bold tonight."
The door had barely shut behind the two of them before the human was pressing Asmo against it, mouthing at his neck as their hands traveled down the front of his silk blouse. He shuddered gleefully as their breath ghosted against his ear lobe.
"I can't help it," they murmured, fingers skirting just beneath the hem of his shirt. "You looked so good out there."
"I look good all the time, darling," he hummed, reaching up to grab a fistful of hair to gently pry them away from his neck.
"You looked especially good," they huffed as he let go of their hair. "Dancing like that, I could barely wait until we got home."
"Aw, sweetheart, you should have come to join me." Asmo rolled his hips in an echo of the dancing he had been doing at the club, delighting when he felt them shiver against him. "We could have put on a show that would have captivated the whole Devildom."
"I don't think the staff would appreciate it."
"They would be too busy watching to care," Asmo giggled, diving down to capture their lips in a quick and dirty kiss. "Although I can't say I'm not thrilled to be getting a private show."
Beelzebub: “Man, this place has the best barbecue!”
Dinner dates were a pretty common thing for the two of them. Over the course of the human’s stay in the Devildom, the two of them had figured out which restaurants would put up with Beel’s appetite and which would visibly freeze when the Avatar of Gluttony entered the establishment. The Hellfire Barbecue was one of the good places, probably because Beel made sure to tip really well, and one time personally went into the kitchen to tip the chef. Or, well, he tried, anyway. He ended up giving the money to the human and told them to give it to the chef because he knew if he went in there he would devour everything. But the sentiment was still there.
Beel smiled down at the human as they wiped the barbecue sauce off of their face. “You finished all of it this time.”
“Huh?” they glanced at their plate. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”
“You usually don’t.”
“I was really hungry, I guess.” they grinned sheepishly.
Beel distinctly remembered the human telling him that they always tried to save some food for later. Whether it was being resourceful or because they had a weird sense of shame around eating too much, Beel didn’t know, but he had never pressed in case it was a sensitive issue. But, seeing them indulge themselves and looking genuinely full and satisfied made him happy. And was probably his main motivation for taking them out to dinner so often.
Well, that and getting his own food.
“I like watching you eat.” Beel said, waving to the owner as he passed by.
“You...like watching me eat.” the human repeated, looking somewhat confused.
“You look so happy when you eat good food,” Beel smiled. “I like seeing you happy.”
Belphegor: Oh, how the tables have tabled.
“Come on, I don’t feel like dealing with Lucifer’s lectures today.” Belphie grumbled, tugging half-heartedly on the human’s arm that was flung around his waist. “We should get up soon.”
For all of his complaining, Belphie didn’t move. If anything, he snuggled down deeper into the bed. He loved when the human agreed to have a sleepover in the attic with him. They got uninterrupted cuddle and nap time, since nobody dared to come up to the attic except Beel. And Beel was almost always welcome to join the cuddle puddle.
“Five more minutes…” the human mumbled sleepily, burying their face into Belphie’s neck. The soft, contented sigh they let out tickled, and he squirmed a little.
“Aren’t you usually the one waking me up?” Belphie nuzzled his nose against their hair.
“But it’s comfy here,” they whined. “I don’t want to get up.”
“You just don’t want to do the presentation in class today.”
“Your point?”
Belphie laughed. “Can’t say I disagree.”
“I did all the hard work anyway,” they shrugged. “We’ll make Mammon give the report.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
The two of them settled back down into the nest of pillows. The human had almost drifted back to sleep when Belphie brought his nose down to theirs to nuzzle them together.
“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”
“You’re cute when you shut up and let me sleep.”
#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie
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Mondo having a thing about coating Taka with hickeys and Taka having a thing about very much enjoying the process is a good headcanon I've seen used several times, in both fic and art.
I see it causing an issue for them at least once.
Kiyotaka has the syllabus and upcoming events memorized before he and Mondo have a "session" so he won't be caught broadcasting his love life unwelcomed. Besides, he always fears he'll be accused of being hedonistic and immoral just for using some free time to feel wanted by the man he loves.
Meanwhile, Mondo knows to keep it below the uniform collar, but that's a lot of fair game there. After one night where they get carried away, Taka's torso from the base of the neck down looks like a leopard. Taka looks like he lost a fight with an octopus. But it's fine because a)Taka wanted it, and b)he can still look presentable in public with them covered.
But, the next day at gym, the class is told the schedule had to be rearranged and everyone is to head up to the pool. Taka instantly panics.
As everyone starts walking, he grabs Mondo's arm and pulls him to the back of the group.
"Mondo," he hisses, "I can't go to the pool!"
"Why?"
Taka fully despairs for a brief second. "If I take off my uniform, everyone will see the marks you've made!"
The caveman part of Mondo's brain makes his chest want to swell with a mixture of pride and possession, but it plummets down to become a lead ball in his stomach the instant he notices the unshed tears and fear in Taka's large eyes.
"It's okay. S'okay, I'll figure somethin out. Let's just get goin," Mondo promises him.
He can't let Taka feel humiliated. He mostly trusts his classmates by now--Taka would never have another middle school experience--but this wasn't a couple hickeys to get teased over and laugh off. Their peers' first reaction might be to get Taka a bodyguard and Mondo a muzzle. The teacher might investigate; Taka's dad might be called. Mondo shakes away the mental image of a mortified Taka and tries to actually problem solve.
He couldn't picture Taka sitting the period out on the bleachers and risk being a bad class leader. Taka could lie about feeling sick or needing somewhere else to be to work on his Talent, but he wouldn't. Taka wouldn't forgive him for pulling the fire alarm either. He didn't know of any clubs Taka could help at this hour. Would anything at the pool hide him when they got there?
Mondo's head snaps up with an idea and he walks faster to catch up with the classmate who made swimming pools her domain. "Asahina!"
Hina stops hopping around excitedly next to Sakura and turns to address him. "Mondo? What's up?"
He starts to whisper while also glaring at any classmates daring to curiously rubberneck. "I need a favor. Do ya have one of them, like, swim shirts? Y'know, surfers and shit wear 'em?"
"A rash guard?"
"Sure."
Hina frowns, apologetic. "No, I never thought to bring one here since the pool is indoors." She gives him a once-over. "And I'm not sure we'd be the same size."
"It's not...for me." Mondo rubs the back of his neck anxiously. He makes sure to keep his voice low. "It's for Taka."
"Since when does Ishimaru prefer a rash guard while swimming?" Kyoko asks, suddenly appearing on Mondo's other side, startling him.
"Holy fuck! Who who asked you?!" he yelps.
"You're not as quiet as you think you are," she helpfully warns them. "Here, let's walk to the side a bit."
The three step to the outside of the pack of students to continue talking a bit more covertly.
"Now, Oowada, what's this about?" Kyoko asks, eyes sharp.
Yeah!" Hina loudly whispers back. "Is Taka all right? Him asking for cover is concerning, ya know!"
Mondo's defensive annoyance threatens to flare up. "He's fine, but he can't go in the pool today. I can't tell ya why, so don't ask."
Maybe if another teacher needed help, but Mondo didn't know of any and unless one walked down the hall, he couldn't beg them. Or the headmaster!
"Oi!" Mondo's outburst causes Hina to jump. He lowers his voice once again, "Kirigiri! I need ya to ask yer dad if he has anythin he can call for Taka to work on. Like, now, for the whole period."
Kyoko's cool eyes narrow at him. He knows she's still trying to suss out his motives.
"If it were just for you, I'd demand more of an explanation, but this is for Ishimaru, right?" Even as she asks, she has her phone out, texting the headmaster. Mondo catches a glimpse of her text starting with "URGENT" and feels a wave of appreciation.
Finished, she looks from her phone back to Taka, still uncharacteristically silent and walking yards behind everyone else. She notes how he's hugging himself and darting his unfocused eyes around.
"Hmm." Her hand is up to her chin in thought. "Well, all we can do is wait for my father to answer me or make an announcement on his own. I could always just lie and say my father requested him."
"Y'know damn well he'd hate that and give us both detention when he found out," Mondo gripes. He understands why Taka refuses a little dishonest help, but it's still frustrating as hell sometimes.
"Yes," she agrees, her voice was as level and confident as always, "but that depends on how much he'd rather be tricked than show off your love bites."
"Right? Damn."
Hina, still close by and listening, covered her mouth to muffle a giggle.
Then Mondo's steps faltered. "HEY!"
His shout echoed around the hall, causing a few students to eyeball them. Makoto was clutching his chest, about ready to imitate a fainting goat.
Kyoko didn't so much as blink though. "It's as if you forget who I am. But don't worry, I'll take all the blame for lying to Ishimaru if it comes to that."
"Thanks," Mondo sighs out. "If you two didn't help, I was gonna pay Hiro to predict a pool disaster big enough to stall."
That causes Hina and Kyoko to realize the severity of the situation might be more than simple awkwardness.
"You know Hiro would try to charge you, like, hundreds of dollars for that," Hina says, worried. "Maybe thousands. Is Taka really that embarrassed by a hickey?"
Mondo swallows thickly but doesn't answer. He feels incredibly guilty. He feels like a danger to Taka's reputation for a new reason than the usual ones that sometimes haunt him. He knows hormones and his lack of self-control are a bad mix, but add in Taka enthusiastically praising his mouth, and he has zero hope of restraint.
They arrive at the changing rooms for everyone to switch into their swimsuits before going to the pool. The other students file inside while Mondo, Hina, Kyoko, and the trailing Taka hang back.
When Taka stops in front of them, his wide eyes finally focus on Mondo. He glances at the girls then says, hopefully, "Any, um, ideas?"
Mondo worries Taka is going to have a panic attack with the way he's breathing and clutching his blazer closed. As if the marks were magically visible through his uniform shirt too.
Kyoko brings her phone screen up to her face to check for a reply, then shakes her head at Mondo. Hina wrings her hands.
Deciding he's just going to kidnap Taka for the rest of the day and risk his boyfriend never speaking to him again, Mondo starts to grab Taka's arm.
The P.A. system squeaks on. "ISHIMARU, YOUR ASSISTANCE IS NEEDED IN THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE, PLEASE!"
All four friends sag with relief. Hina does a little cheer, gives them a thumbs up and skips into the girl's changing room. Kyoko nods at Mondo's thankful expression and follows her inside.
Taka runs his fingers thru his hair, laughs bubbling out of him. He has no idea what had happened to save him, but he wasn't going to question it just now. He squeezes Mondo's wrist once with his left hand and smiles to convey he was never upset with his partner about the situation. Then he proceeds to speed-walk to the office.
Mondo's frayed nerves want him to break the rules and embrace Taka, but his impulsive actions have caused enough problems today. He turns to go get changed for the pool, his caveman pride starting to return after helping to protect his Kiyotaka.
Following this, Taka didn't let them have another "session" for a month, and when he did he made contingency plans to be nowhere near the pool for a full week.
#this was originally a two-sentence post wut am i doing#ishimondo#kiyotaka ishimaru#mondo oowada#probably would have been funnier presenting the premise and leaving it to your imaginations my bad#danganronpa
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Model Student(Dom.Midoriya Izuku x Sub.Fem.Reader)
All characters are aged up 18+
word count: 1,158 this took fucking forever, i really thought it was going to be longer than that....rip🙂😭
genre: smut
warnings: 18+, oral, semi-public, overstimulation
a/n: i was trying to do homework, but people kept teasing me on tumblr and in discord, and thus, this fic was born.
You were trying.
Even though your college had practically been transformed into zoom university, you had been one of the few students who managed to stay caught up. You attended all of your online classes, did all of your homework, and were still well on your way to receiving your degree. There was just one thing distracting you:
Your horny fuck of a boyfriend.
“I know everyone is tired, 8 am class is never ideal, but I appreciate everyone being here.” Your professor said as the last few stragglers entered the zoom call. “Now, staying muted is ideal so we don’t have too many people talking at once or background noise, but I’d prefer if you all kept your cameras on so I can make sure everyone is paying attention.”
“Noooooooo!” you groaned, knowing you were already muted. Reluctantly, you turned on your camera to reveal yourself.
“Babe, whats wrong?” you heard your boyfriend inquire from the other room.
“It’s nothin’ ‘Zuku,” you assured, “my professor is just forcing us to keep our cameras on.”
“I thought all of your professors let you keep it off.”
“That was last semester, this girl is new,” you stated, “and I already regret taking this class.”
You heard him walk to your shared bedroom. “Don’t say that,” he consoled, leaning against the door frame, “keeping your camera on could be fun.”
“How could it possibly be fun? You never know who’s looking at you, and I can’t wear pajamas anymore!” you complained.
“It’ll be more fun than you think.”
*
*
*
Midoriya had distracted himself by filling out some paperwork from his last mission, but it didn’t take long before he was finished with that. He tried to think of other things to occupy his interest until you were done with class.
TV? No.
Training? No.
Food? No.
Friends? No.
There was really only one thing he wanted to be doing, and that thing was five feet away, sucked into her zoom class.
Moving from his place on the bed, he knelt down beside your desk chair, just low enough that he couldn’t be seen by the camera.
You were diligently taking notes and didn’t even notice him until his hand was gently rubbing your calf.
“What the—” you squeaked, finally noticing your boyfriend.
“Shh, it’s fine. Just keep working.” he whispered as he positioned himself between your legs, now completely under the desk.
“‘Zuku, my camera is still on,” you warned, “and I can’t turn it off.”
“Yeah,” he affirmed, running his hands over your thighs, “that’s the point y/n.”
“Mhmmm, come on Izu’,” you pleaded, “class ends in like five minutes.”
“That’s too bad, y/n” he said as he slowly started rubbing your clit through your shorts, “because I want to taste you now.”
Immediately, your face contorted in pleasure. You quickly realized your mistake however, and continued paying attention to your professor.
“Come on y/n, there’s gotta be, what? Like 40 people in your class? Who’s gonna know” your boyfriend asked, continuing his attack on your clit.
Being honest with yourself, this wasn’t a good idea. Although your microphone was muted, you knew you had absolutely no control over your facial expressions, and you were sure someone in your class would immediately catch on. But you also knew how good your boyfriend was with his mouth.
In the end, his mouth won over the possibility of getting in trouble.
You lifted your hips to help him slide your shorts and panties to the floor.
“Wow y/n, already this wet for me?” he teased. “Try not to make any faces babe. You wouldn’t want to get caught now would you?”
Before you could answer he lapped up at your slit, effectively shutting you up.
If there was one thing Izuku was good at, it was sex. He was kind and caring in nature, always making sure everyone’s needs were filled to the best of his ability. There was no shortage of that attitude in the bedroom.
After lapping up your juices for a while, he moved onto sucking your clit. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bundle of nerves as a finger started pumping into you.
You were trying.
You were trying so hard to keep your face normal.
You weren’t doing so well.
“Are you feeling alright Ms. y/l/n?” your professor asked.
well
shit!
With a trembling hand, you unmuted your microphrone.
“Never better.” you weakly uttered, your face hot as ever.
“Are you sure?”
“Yup! I feel great! Thank you for asKING” you squeaked as your boyfriend started curling his finger up towards your G-spot.
“Alright then.” your confused professor continued, “Well, that just about concludes our class! Thank you so much for attending everyone!” With that, the professor ended the zoom call.
“Oh thank god!” you groaned, finally able to let yourself go.
“You did such a good job baby.” Midoriya praised against your heat while adding another finger, “Now I need you to come for me.”
You let out a moan. Weaving your hands through his green hair, you started bucking your hips and grinding yourself against his face.
“That’s it baby, just like that.” Izuku whispered, “Fuck yourself on my face”
Basking in his lewd words, you felt a familiar coil, rapidly tightening.
“I can feel you getting closer, you can do it baby. Cum for me”
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as waves of pleasure crashed through your body. You came hard and Midoriya wasted no time in lapping up all of your juices.
Just as you went to stand, Izuku pulled you back into place and continued his assault on your pussy.
“I know you have another one in you princess.” he cooed.
The nickname made your face feel even hotter than it was before, but it couldn’t distract you from how intense you currently felt.
“Izuku” you panted, “I-I can’t”
“Yes you can, I know you can. Cum for me baby.”
Izuku angled his fingers to hit your G-spot with each thrust and it was all too much for you. The coil inside of you snapped. You once again clenched around his fingers, letting out a sinful moan. You felt an unfamiliar peeing sensation this time, and looked down to find you had, for the first time, squirted, all over Midoriya’s face.
“I’m sorry!” you immediately squealed.
“Sorry?” Izuku asked, “For what? Y/n, that was so hot.”
He ran his hand over his face, guiding all of your liquids to his mouth, where he eagerly sucked him in.
“Now,” he said, crawling out from under the desk, “I have an assignment or you.” He stood while you were still sitting, your face now level with the hard-on he was palming.
“Oh really?” you inquired, gaze never leaving his erection, “And what makes you so sure I’ll follow your directions?” you teased.
“Because,” Midoriya said, pulling out his cock, “you’ve always been a...
model student.”
#midoriya#midoriya x reader#izuku#izuku x reader#izuku mydoria#midoriya izuku#deku#deku x reader#bnha#bnha x reader#mha#mha x reader#smut#midoriya smut#izuku smut#deku smut#bnha smut#mha smut#boku no hero academia#my hero academia
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hi! wanted to tell you that i absolutely love your writing skills, it’s so different from the others that i've read and it makes me feel so warm inside. keep up the good work! i'm really looking forward to seeing more
if you don’t mind, i'd like to request for a poly nagito x sweetheart reader x kokichi where they’re still in the crushing/pining stage and being confused about their sexuality. thank you, have a good day/night!💙
Phew! I finally did it! My fingers kinda hurt from typing all this haha! But I loved the request a lot! I played around with the concept you gave me as well, so it’s a story that branches out into multiple styles of writing. I do have to warn you though, goodness is this one long! But I hope you enjoy it all in the same! <3
I’m so sleepy lol
quick trigger warning beware! : There is a scene in this where a character goes through mental hysteria that contains some panic attack like symptoms. If you are sensitive to that writing, please, skip the the fluffy scene that if used for comfort right after :) (Or just don’t read it at all, don’t worry! Harmoni understands!)
Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma! Pt. 1
Also can we just talk about this gif? It makes me so happy...This artist is so good too like WHOA! Check them out!
“No…“
“1, 2, 3, 4-“
“NO-“
“5, 6, 7, 8!” Nagito finished, moving the silver, dog-shaped play piece across the board in rhythmic taps.
“NOOOO! BOARDWALK, NAGITO?! FUCKING BOARDWALK?!” Kokichi shrieked in a fit of rage, slamming his Panta drink onto the table, while standing up and causing an absolute fit.
Nagito was chuckling at the enraged boy, who was now standing on the kitchen counters, stomping in pure fury. Kokichi was a huge brat. A clingy, competitive, always-begging-for-something, whole-hearted brat. Though, Nagito would have to admit that he could never stay mad at Kokichi, in fact, he would have to say that he barely gets mad at him. Ever. He reminded the white-haired boy of a playful puppy, bounding and bucking happily when getting what it wants. It made Nagito’s heart melt, evaporate, then simply melt again, even when he was a cursing mess stomping on the granite countertops, getting scratches all over it.
“Woah! Nagi, that’s amazing! You got Boardwalk really early in the game, that’s so cool!” You smiled, while also laughing at Kokichi’s ferocious cursing as ambiance. Your smile drove Nagito’s attention away from the angered boy, and his heart went through overdrive once he saw your sweet smile, radiating so much contagious joy. It’s almost as if he was on a roller coaster that contained a different track each and every time he rode it. One minute, his heart would be doing loops, and the next, it excitedly go up again.
. . .
Now, this is where the problem begins. Well, the one of three problems that plague the three individuals all playing a simple game of Monopoly on a Sunday night. This is Nagito’s problem: Whenever he has an effect on Kokichi, making him oh-so-lovable in his eyes, his heart swells and fills his chest to the brim. Oh, was this feeling that was so incredibly foreign to him feel so wonderful when it dawned upon him for the first time.
Nagito could always draw the memory back within his vision in surreal detail. Kokichi and Nagito were loitering in the hallways of Hope’s peak, with the shorter purple-haired boy dragging the pale, frizzy haired boy by the hand to apparently “Conjure up the biggest most awesome-est prank Hope’s Peak has every witnesses since built into existence”. Honestly, how could Nagito say no to something that holds so much potential hope and despair, all contained in one big gift-wrapped surprise of a prank on the whole school?
After planning for a few hours, Kokichi seemed to have a fuse broken in his brain due to thinking about a truly fool-proof plan. The somewhat drowsy prankster reached into his schoolbag and pulled out two twin bottles of grape Panta, sliding one over to an unsuspecting Nagito. The purple plastic bottle bonked into Nagito’s forearm, knocking the bottle down from the force.
“Nehehe, I guess you really are the Ultimate Lucky student, huh? It just so happens I packed an extra today, Shamrock! Make it up to me sometime soon, okaaaaay?” Kokichi giggled, teasing the lanky, somewhat socially-awkward Nagito who was sitting across from him on a desk within a totally abandoned classroom. Nagito thanked the other, though, Kokichi really couldn’t respond due to being in the middle of chugging his favorite carbonated drink.
Nagito turn to his own bottle. He wasn’t the biggest fan of old-fashioned artificial grape flavored things, but it wasn’t the worst. Plus, it would be quite rude to refuse a drink from a friend, right? So the white haired boy simply picked up the bottle, and twisted the cap off, as per usual etiquette of opening a soda bottle.
Splash
It didn’t take too long until Nagito knew what was going on. The drink had exploded everywhere. The bottle of soda was basically empty by the end of the grape-geyser showcase, and poor Nagito was left drenched in purple, sticky, sugary liquid. The drink already was starting to dry into a thin, sweet crust on his skin, making the boy on a whole other level of uncomfortable. Though, it was kind of expected that Kokichi would be absolutely laughing his butt off in the moment, sounding like some sort of hysteric hyena mixed with a duckling quacking at some breadcrumbs. It was a laughable sight, no doubt, Nagito literally looked like the embodiment of a sad, wet dog.
But then Kokichi settled down after a bit, controlling his breathing from the pathetic sight. After doing so, he got up out of his seat, and knelt down to scrummage through his bag, revealing a regular branded water bottle. He then made his way over to Nagito, and without hesitation, sat himself on his soda-soaked lap.
“Aww, really going for that kicked puppy look, are you now? Well, since I’ve had all my laughing fun from this, I guess it’s only natural that I help you out, hm? Or would you rather just stay just like this? Oh, now, I wouldn’t mind it if we did…though it seems your eyes beg to differ…well in that case, let’s clean you up, shall we?” Kokichi hummed, teasing the ever living daylights out of the wet and miserable boy.
Kokichi then did something that made Nagito’s heart pound harder than it ever had before. The teasing boy reached behind his neck, untying his beloved checkered bandana. He then carefully opened the water bottle, and poured the contents onto the fabric. Once ensuring it was thoroughly soaked, Kokichi started to wash off as much of the stickiness he could. to Ruffling Nagito’s hair, from gently washing his pale cheeks, which were now sprinkled with specks of rose, and finally gliding the cloth along Nagito’s clothes and hands.
A few things in Nagito’s mind had clicked into place after Kokichi had handled him with the care equal to that of a lover. Well, ironically, Nagito had caught feelings for his tiny little prankster brat of a friend. Was it a huge surprise? Not really, based on the track that Nagito was on.
Another piece of the puzzle had snapped: Kokichi was a a guy. That was something really to think about. Never had Nagito found men attractive, but…
Finally, the last, and most worrying puzzle piece out of them all: Kokichi wasn’t the only one he has fell for. His heart has become torn in that moment, with every day becoming more of a wrestling match to the death rather than a silly tug-of-war between feelings. The other side of his heart was unsure, and fell for another person that had lifted him up through his lowest lows, supporting him like a much needed pair of crutches when having a sprained ankle.
And that person, was you.
. . .
“Ok ok ok ok ok! Listen here you little damn shamrock you!” Kokichi huffed, now sitting back on the ground, leg crossed, “You and I both know that I have Park Place, right? Right! Now, my dear little clover, I want to make a deal with you, if you will?” Kokichi smirked with evil intent clear within his irises.
“Ooo! Deals! Nagi, I think you should listen to Kichi, making profitable partnerships is pretty much his specialty.” You giggled, basically becoming Kokichi’s personal little advocate. He let out a quick “Yeah, what she said!”, causing Nagito to laugh and nod, gesturing for an explanation of the deal.
“Well, personally, my little clover, I feel like we should team up, you know? We could completely dominate over sweet our little gumdrop over there, making them drop to their knees in submission to us. You know, I have a feeling you and I both would enjoy it...” Kokichi shuffled a little closer to the platinum blonde, voice dropping, “We could rule them over together, as equals, or even make them surrender if they ever have the chance-“
“Sure! Though, you should probably get out of jail first.” Nagito chuckled, making the other boy grumble.
“OH YOU-“
“Heeeeey! I wanna join in too! It sounds like you guys are having fun and stuff, while I’m all alone…” You puffed out your cheeks, sadness dripping in your voice.
Both of the boys shot up to look at your somewhat downcast features, and oh, how it wreaked their hearts in one fell swoop.
Kokichi automatically shot up from his position, puffing out his chest in preparation for a new speech.
“O-ok! New deal! We ALL join evil forces TOGETHER, and absolutely destroy the game with all of our property, while reaping in the greedy rewards of the capitalist regime!” Kokichi loudly proclaimed, chuckling at the end of his new deal.
You gasped, “Deal! Deal! Taking over a money-based board game with my two favorite people ever will always be a yes for me!” You laughed, smiling at the thought of the three of you taking over Hollywood streets with a pose of limos, while using bags stuffed with pure cash as weapons made it ten times funnier.
Kokichi smiled, resting his hands behind his head, “Yeah! Let’s end it here and just say that we kicked so much millionaire ass that we now have control over the whole economy!”
. . .
This is the second problem, Kokichi is so undeniably confused. About what? About himself. He was sure as all hell about how he felt about you, he always went soft and squishy for you, and not to mention he would be extra clingy when it had to do with you. Headpats? Common, and always appreciated. Cuddles? Been there, done that with you.
But, then there was Nagito. Kokichi would never say this out loud, but he thought that Nagito was so…pretty. And god, Kokichi was a huge sucker for pretty people. Though, once he realized that his feelings didn’t go to just one person, that’s when he started to panic.
He had to take in multiple things at once, trying to accept it all at once, but it was just so incredibly difficult. He has spent the whole entirety of his life to perfect the art of lying, and one thing that he learned constantly manipulated his own mind and thought process, tearing it into metaphorical shreds.
In order to pull out a lie that everyone can believe, you have to lie to yourself, and proclaim your own illusion of your truth.
Did Kokichi want to believe he was immensely attracted to Nagito, who just happened to be a guy? No, he really didn’t. It wasn’t normal.
Did Kokichi want to believe that he had fallen so fucking in love with two of his closest friends? Hell no. In society, you had to pick and choose, it’s one or the god damn other.
Right?
One night, all of these feeling and thoughts rushed into the boy’s conscious all at once, building immense pressure within his head and chest. Was this a nightmare, or-
Suddenly, his throat started to close up on him, making him gasp out in agony, wheezing on the covers of his bed, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes.
Instinct kicked in within the speed of light. Kokichi shakily reached over to his phone, grasping onto it, and quickly set up a group call. Almost immediately, the two people he was panicking over had picked up.
“Hello? Kokichi? Is there anything you need?” A raspy voice rang out. It seems as if Nagito was awoken by the sudden calling.
“Yeah, Kichi? Is there anything wrong?” You softly spoke through the phone. It calmed Kokichi a little just hearing the two of you guy so worried over him.
“I-I know It’s out of the blue-“ Kokichi gasped for air “B-but can you guys please come over?”
And oh boy, did you and Nagito get there in record time.
After just a mere ten minutes, you and Nagito were outside of Kokichi’s bedroom door, and the both of you could hear the desperate hiccups and gasps of your poor friend.
The both of you had no doubts, nor questions. You just wanted the struggling boy to feel safe.
“We’re coming in.” You said, affirming your actions with light knocking on the bedroom door.
When the both of you came face to face with a Kokichi with puffy red eyes, clutching his heaving chest, and thick tears rolling down his face, it felt like the both of you just got shot in the heart, the weight of it sinking down into the stomach, emitting a feeling that could only be described as pure pity. But the two of you automatically got to work.
Sooner rather than later, You and Nagito were cuddling Kokichi from either side, supporting him, as well as being his shield for protecting his small, delicate frame from his own cruel thoughts. You had started to run your fingers through Kokichi’s hair, causing his breaths to become fuller, and not nearly as hitched. Nagito also wanted to contribute in his own way, so he decided to mindlessly draw messy shapes and squiggles into Kokichi’s side, hoping that what he was doing would be of any help.
After only a mere five minutes, Kokichi had passed out from exhaustion, but the two of you kept on doing what you were doing, wanting for the boy in-between you two to have sweet dreams about all of what he desires all night long.
Kokichi has never let go of that memory, and never will for the rest of his life, and it’s a constant reminder on how much he had lied to himself. He actually wanted the truth out of something for once in his life, and that was how long it would be in order for the loves of his life to live without restraint of societal chains. Whenever it was, he would always be ready. Always, with arms as open as the horizon.
. . .
“Why in the world are we watching Big Hero 6 again? Didn’t we watch this, like, a month ago?” Kokichi trudged from the microwave, to the plush couch, bowl of buttered popcorn in hand.
“(Y/N) wanted to watch it, is there a problem?” Nagito tilted his head, holding the remote, about to press play. You were bouncing in anticipation, because this movie was just never a disappointment.
“Hm, well, I GUESS there’s nothing wrong with it….just don’t be surprised when you hear me snoring.” Kokichi huddled up beside you, placing the bowl of popcorn on you lap.
“I deem you the popcorn peacemaker! Your job is to make sure no one’s being a pig.” Kokichi snickered, while you giggled at your new role in life.
“Nagi? You like popcorn, right? Here!” You placed the bowl on his lap, causing him to smile.
“Hey, HEY! NO! That means I have to reach my WHOLE ARM over to to Lucky boy, JUST SO I CAN GET SOME POPCO-“
“Sh sh sh! The movie is starting!” You giggled, shushing the purple haired boy, while you heard a little chuckle from the white haired boy who was next to you.
. . .
The last problem was you. Your heart bubbled up in joy whenever you where around these boys, making your face erupt like a volcano whenever something slightly suggestive is aimed at you when it has to do with either one of them. You liked both of them, a lot, and you gave everything in order for the three of you to flourish in bountiful friendship. Yeah, that’s the problem, it was friendship.
Oh, how desperately you wished that everything could be easy! If life were like an infinite rolling of crashing waves, things would be flawless, predictable even. Unfortunately, life really likes to give you the short end of the stick, and this was honestly one of the shortest sticks someone like you would have never asked for. The loving of two men, both equally, and having an intense desire to treat them as lovers. What would they do as lovers? Where would they go as lovers? The questions and possibilities are endless…
The only time where you felt as if the friendship could’ve resembled anything somewhat romantic, was a summer evening trip to the beach.
The water was the perfect temperature, the ocean was as clear as glass, and the sand didn’t burn the soles of your feet. The boy’s were in their swimming trunks, having their own little fun. Nagito was afraid of getting to deep into the ocean, so you always stayed in the shallow end, trying to capture as many tiny fishes as you could with your bare hands.
Kokichi insisted that him and Nagito bury you in sand, leaving your head poking out of a sandy little cocoon. When the sun started to set, you got some supplies that you brought, and lit the fire that the group planned to create. Everyone gathered around it, cooking hot dogs on sticks, and crafting tasty s’mores that we fed each other.
One could say that that night might be the most casual and platonic friend trip ever, but something was off.
Everyone looked at each other differently that night. When looking into their eyes, it was oddly intimate. It was like all of the stars in the night sky reflected off their eyes conveyed so much...love.
That night, you felt so adored, so cherished and cultivated to the brim of your existence. You felt something, and maybe the other boy’s did too, but that feeling has changed your life.
Thanks to these stupid boys; These stupid boys that you’ve given so much to, you don’t think you could ever love any other.
One you’ve helped get out of a terrible degradation cycle, another you’ve helped to not lie to himself, and not as much to others.
And thanks to your down to earth humility, your heart has been stolen, and it was going to stay taken by those lovely, unique boys who have helped you out of so many ditches, and so many of life’s cracks and dents. God, how could you not fall?
Their lives were precious to you, but you had no idea how they would feel about an actual relationship, so you’ve always been terrified. Petrified and paralyzed to the bone to ever think of what may happen if you were the cause of the fracture of the friendship. You didn’t want to ruin something that has taken so long to build, yet can be torn all down due to a selfish desire.
But, maybe, just maybe, if they went to you first, confessed everything that was bottled up inside, dittoed on how you felt…
Then you might just be the luckiest person to live on this earth, there’s no doubt about that.
#danganronpa#danganronpa fanfiction#danganronpa x reader#danganronpa x y/n#nagito#nagito komaeda#nagito x reader#nagito x y/n#nagito komaeda x reader#kokichi#kokichi oma#kokichi x reader#kokichi x y/n#Kokichi Oma x reader#poly romance#nagito x kokichi#nagito x kokichi x y/n
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Retrouvailles | l. hyunjae
💐 pairing: florist!hyunjae x fem!reader
💐 genre: cliché fluff
💐 word count: 2.6k
💐 tw: i think i swore once or twice?
💐 synopsis: you are back in your hometown after living in paris for years with your family and a special encounter won’t make you regret your decision.
💐 requested: yes from kyu! i hope you’ll like it!! 💌
💐 a/n: i am so sorry but i absolutely love writing for florist!au, i promise it’s the last one ! (of this series) constructive feedback is always appreciated!!
╰☆☆☆☆╮
Looking around you as you got off the bus, you scoffed in utter shock as this neighbourhood hadn’t changed at all, even if you left eight years ago. All the shops and cafes remained the same, just two new ones got added to the ones that you always found welcoming and cute.
You got a weird sensations when you came back from school a few years ago, your parents stopping you in the entrance and asking you to follow them in the living room. Your siblings were already there, and they all looked down, your little sister on the verge of crying. You were fourteen at this time, and you had imagined the worst.
“Mom, Dad, what’s happening?” you worriedly asked, trying to catch your older brother’s gaze, but his head remained low, a visible disappointed look on his face.
“It’s a bit complicated, sweetie, but Dad found a job in Europe. We are going to receive more money and live more comfortably, but we have to follow him,” your mother tried her best to explain you the situation without hurting you, but it was to no avail. You couldn’t control the tears submerging your eyes and cried uncontrollably, your mother rushing to take you in her arms.
“When are we coming back, Mom? Are we going to keep the house? I don’t want other people to live here,” your mother soothingly rubbed your back, trying to ease your pain, and she nodded.
“I don’t know baby, but your grandparents are going to live here, it’s better than the house they currently have,” you pouted as you kept on crying, your mother resting a reassuring hand on the back of your head as she drew you closer, but immediately abandoned her arms as soon as your little sister started crying, rushing to hug her instead.
The move was hard, packing all your stuff had you feeling extremely sad to leave all your memories behind, unsure about the future years. The next day, you bid farewell to all your friends, hugging them tightly as you spent your last day at school trying to find solace in your friends and classmates’ presence before leaving. You cried in your best friend’s arms right in front of your mother’s car, and waved at her until she disappeared from the rear-view mirror.
Paris was a wonderful city, not quite like in the movies, but it was still charming. French was a tough language and you kind of struggled go get yourself understood because the other students didn’t really speak your native language, but with many months that turned into years of trying, you managed to now have a decent level in the language of love.
Despite your passion and admiration for this city, creating landmarks in the surrounding neighbourhoods as well as making friends were not easy tasks. However, with the help of your siblings and your parents, you had managed to make a bunch of friends, and that did you good when you didn’t have to think too much when you were talking since you were conversing in your native language.
Your time is France was amazing, you created great memories with awesome friendships, but you couldn’t help feeling nostalgic sometimes. You missed your neighbourhood, your grandparents, and your other relatives, only being able to see and talk to them via Skype or FaceTime. Years passed, and finally, at 22 years old, you decided to let your family in France, where your siblings had already constructed things with people, and come back where you grew up, where you felt like your heart truly belonged.
The shock on your face had to be very visible since some bystanders threw you a weird look as you stood stoic in the middle of the pavement. Spontaneously walking inside the kiosk that was as old as you remembered it, you warmly greeted the owner, an elderly woman that hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same hunched shoulders, long, white hair secured in a tight bun by a flower pin, her wrinkled smile was still as warm and as wise as you knew it when you were buying sweets from her.
You exchanged a few words with her, giving you a pack of the sweets you used to buy and the prepaid card you asked for. You still had your French number, so it’d cost you a kidney if you ever decided to call your relatives with it. The old woman looked extremely happy and somewhat pleased to see you, because she admitted that she got worried when you suddenly stopped passing by and buy sweets.
“And you decided to come back, how wonderful,” she said with her shaky, warm voice while handing you what you just bought. You smiled at her and nodded, eyes slightly widening when she grabbed your wrist.
“If you need anything, my husband and I will be happy to help. I’m glad to see you back by us,” she said, and you felt your heart flutter. It was truly where you belonged.
“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you answered as she winked, wishing you a great day.
The fresh air welcomed you once you got out, feeling it clear your lungs from the slight more polluted air from Paris. You opened the bag of sweets and munched on a few, feeling the memories rushing back in your mind as you started wandering around the neighbourhood. You quickly texted your cousin that you were near their house, but he was probably too busy playing video games or napping, so you decided to go grab something more consistent to eat and wandered around, walking further into different areas.
The beautiful, light colours of a shop window caught your attention, not remembering its existence when you were younger. You got near the window and observed inside, discovering a jungle of beautiful flowers arranged by species. A manly back was working behind the checkout, assembling a bouquet of what seemed to be roses. You were tempted to go inside the shop to know more about this new place, but you quickly hid from the window when the man turned around. His face looked familiar, a tingling sensation appearing in your stomach as you tried to remember him. You knew him from somewhere, you were sure of it, but you just couldn’t put your finger on it.
The young man inside the shop slightly frowned as he saw someone suddenly disappearing from the window, the hems of their long brown coat lingering in his gaze. He slightly shrugged with a smile and petted the cat at his feet, who was demanding cuddles and attention. His hands were occupied with the order he had just finished preparing and he wrapped the flowers in some brown paper craft before placing it in the back office, where all the other orders were ready to get delivered by his co-worker Juyeon. He finished his cup of now cold coffee that was forgotten on the main counter, hearing the bell above the door chime.
Much to his great disappointment, it wasn’t the young lady that vanished before his eyes, it was Juyeon’s mother, who was here to pick up flowers for his sick grandmother. Hyunjae hid his dismay behind a warm smile, quickly pacing back and forth to give her the bouquet and bank her total.
A middle-aged woman walking out of the shop looked at you from the side as you still hid, tugging on your lower lip, rummaging your mind in order to find who this man was. You were getting frustrated as you stomped the floor with your foot, getting tired of your brain playing tricks on you as you were sure that you knew this man.
“Fuck it, I’m going in,” you said as you pushed the door open, the intense smell of flowers and pollen attacking your nostrils. It smelt really nice and welcoming, but your allergies said otherwise.
You sneezed once, twice, and one last time before you could properly greet the man in front of you. He looked as curious as you were, he must have seen you since you weren’t the best at hiding.
“Welcome to the Butterfly flower shop, how can I help you?” the voice of the man sending a nice wave of chill down your spine, feeling yourself smile at who seemed to be the owner of the shop.
“Hello, I’m just going to look around for a while,” you said while gesturing to all the flowers around you, sniffling to try and hold a sneeze in, but it didn’t help at all. It actually did the exact opposite that you had wished.
Hyunjae empathically smiled as you kept on sneezing, trying his best not to vocal how cute you were when the pollen seized your entire nostrils. You apologised profusely, mentally cursing yourself for being so curious. Maybe, just maybe, you should have stayed outside and admire him from afar, you wouldn’t be embarrassing yourself just like you were doing right now. But it was so tempting, you had to take a look. He was nice enough to hand you a pack of tissues, which you gladly took with a nod.
“I’ll be in the back office for a minute, don’t hesitate to ask me if you need any help,” he said with a warm smile and you nodded, holding a tissue to your face.
“I appreciate it, thank you,” you answered as you started looking around the shop. All the flowers were beautiful, it was really tempting to just buy one of each without even caring about the prices. Since this was impossible, your eyes landed on some daisies, whose petals looked really nice and healthy. You felt bad to have made your choice just a few seconds after the man left for the back office, so you decided to wait for a bit.
Yet, another bad idea. Your nose felt ticklish, no matter how hard you rubbed your finger under it, it only became worse.
“Hum excuse me?” you politely said, and the man reappeared almost instantly, close to scaring you. His whole face lit up just with a smile, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight. Staring at him for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape as you detailed his face, his smile and manners hitting you like a truck.
This man was none other than Hyunjae, the young boy you had a crush on during the late years of middle school, right before you left for France. He grew up so much, yet his facial features had barely changed, they only matured. His smile was the thing that made you fall for him, his personality and physical features not helping the hopeless romantic that you were. You barely talked to him when you were younger, only when you were assigned in groups with him since he always hung out with the athletes and dancers, a group that you were dying to join but never did. Hyunjae was an incredible dancer, always performing for the school team and even outside.
“Ma’am? Are you okay?” you heard his voice bringing you back to reality, feeling embarrassment invading your body as you’ve probably been staring at him for long, way too long to not be weird.
“I’m-I’m sorry. Can I have a bouquet of those daisies over there, please?” you asked, and he nodded.
“Sure thing,” walking around the counter, you followed him to the said daisies, the man gathering a good portion of his stock. Your eyes widened a bit but didn’t dare to say anything, only to follow him back to the counter.
“Are you from here? My usual customers are my acquaintances or the people living in the neighbourhood,” his voice trailed as he arranged the flowers, briefly looking at you with a smile before busying his hands in the plants again.
“I was actually born and raised here, but I had to follow my father abroad for his job,” you said while delicately touching the petals of a peony right next to your head. Hyunjae’s hands stopped, and he looked up, eyes going wide.
“You are from here? Where in the neighbourhood?”
“I grew up in the house right at the corner of the street, the beige one with the burgundy wooden shutters and the garden.”
“Hold on. Y/N?” his voice sounded so light-hearted as his eyebrows raised in shock. It was his turn to look at you with a surprised look on his face, his mouth stretching in a wide smile.
You offered him a smile and you fell in a comfortable silence. Thousands of questions were trotting in your head, dying to ask the other, but you were both trying to find a topic that didn’t sound too curious and invading. And it was hard because you both became suddenly very shy, your attention focusing on the flowers. It was normal for you, but Hyunjae wasn’t the type of guy to get intimidated this easily.
“So-” you both said at the same time and chuckled together, the florist gesturing you to go first.
“No, no, go ahead.”
“So you decided to finally come back? I understand if you missed this town, I would too,” he said and you smiled, approving his words.
“I was too tired from France, plus I missed my family that stayed here. I just wanted to pay them a visit and maybe stay over until I find another place to stay on my own,” you explained while observing your former crush wrapping the flowers you had chosen.
He secured them in the same crafted paper he did for the previous bouquet, placing it on the counter closer to you. Handing him your credit card, you stayed with your hand hanging in the void, Hyunjae typing something on the cash register. He religiously ignored your card and handed you the bouquet, giving you the brightest smile he could.
“Take this as a gift to welcome you back in town,” he said and your eyes widened, hand slowly moving away.
“I can’t accept this,” you said, suddenly feeling nervous. Hyunjae encouraged you to take the flowers by placing them right under your nose with a smirk, tickling your nose.
“Please do. Welcome back in town, Y/N,” he said as he noticed some fallen petals stuck on his dark green apron, wiping them away before offering you a smile.
You took the flowers away from your face and sheepishly smiled, thanking him for his generosity.
“Thank you, really,” you said with a shy voice, struggling to look at him in the eyes. He shook his head, indicating you that it was nothing, and he cleared the counter.
“Have a lovely day, Hyunjae. It was good to meet you again,” you said as you walked to the door, hand on the knob.
“Wait Y/N- would you like to get some coffee sometimes? I’d love to hear about your time in France and… get to know you a bit better and make up for lost time?” His offer wasn’t something you had expected, but who were you to refuse getting closer to your former crush.
This random encounter with him had your heart fluttering like it did when you watched him perform in front of the entire school a few years ago, when you were still a young teenager hopelessly in love. It was hammering in your chest, warmth travelling in your entire body as a radiant smile appeared on your face.
“I’d love to.” You said with a smile as you walked back to the counter, only to take the business card he was handing you. Your eyes landed on the black ink scratching the phone numbers, only to find another one messily written at the top of the small card. You thanked him and walked through the front door, waving at him with a smile as you walked away, clutching the piece of paper tightly in your palm, excited of what this reunion was going to offer you.
__
╰☆☆ Les retrouvailles nous font rappeler de vieilles histoires, mais elles consentent également à en créer de nouvelles. ☆☆╮
#oui oui baguette project#hyunjae#lee hyunjae#the boyz hyunjae#the boyz lee jaehyun#hyunjae imagines#hyunjae scenarios#lee hyunjae imagines#lee hyunjae scenarios#the boyz hyunjae scenarios#the boyz#the boyz imagines#the boyz scenarios#the boyz fluff imagines#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#tbz#the boyz x reader#the boyz au#hyunjae x reader#tbz imagines#tbz hyunjae#tbz lee jaehyun#tbz scenarios#tbz fluff#tbz lee hyunjae#hyunjae fanfic#hyunjae au#the boyz florist au
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Come What May, Chapter Four
Masterlist
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: brief description of panic attack -- there is a warning in the body of the chapter as well! Don’t worry.
Tags: main character has social anxiety, teaching a class with Obi-Wan, sexual tension, lightsaber fights, Obi-Wan continues with the cute pet names, some teacher/student fantasizing, Obi-Wan is still a massive tease, fucking in a supply closet
Word Count: 6.9 K
It's infuriating to know that Obi-Wan is back in the Temple, but that he's too busy to see you. Between Council meetings that drag for hours, more private gatherings with members of the Senate to discuss what the next move in the war should be, and allowing the poor man time to rest, Obi-Wan has been home for more than a week. You've barely caught more than a glimpse of him. Still, it's nice to have him present in your mind.
You know he's still in the Temple every day you wake up to a glowing good morning, love, his happiness to be near you radiating like sunshine even if you haven't had the time to see one another. It’s not safe to talk back and forth, but sometimes if one of you is particularly bored, you’ll trade a few sentences.
Master Yoda is on a roll today. Send help. Starting to think backwards I am.
Pity you I do.
Very funny, petal.
Then he’d be gone again, fading out before anyone got suspicious. The sudden absence hurts, but not as much as having him gone from the Temple entirely. At least here, you can feel him. You know he's safe.
In contrast to Obi-Wan's breakneck schedule, you've had almost nothing to do. It's full-on spring on Coruscant now, the warmth driving cold and flu season away. You have no colicky little ones in the creche to fuss over, no sick Padawans. The most you might see are some old Masters who need their aching bones tended to, or a quick training accident that needs mended. You haven't shipped out to a war-stricken planet in a while, either. It's strange to have downtime. Strange and frustrating, knowing Obi-Wan is nearby but still not close enough. Having a spare moment between all the illness and injuries is a good thing, and you're grateful. If only you weren't so restless.
-----
It’s rare -- almost impossible -- that you get to take the entire day off, but that’s exactly what you’ve been told to do. The medbay sits empty except for a couple of droids, instructed to deep clean while there are no patients. Even Master Allie appears to be taking it easy; her Force is calm as she bids you goodbye. She insists that if anyone turns up in need of healing, she and Barriss Offee would be on call to take care of it. You bow to her and leave, excited about what possibilities this could open up.
The first thing you do is check for Obi-Wan. Of course, he’s preoccupied. You duck out after feeling the level of concentration he’s exerting at something-or-other; it’s mixed with frustration and you don’t want to distract him. Like you, he’s getting more and more impatient with how busy the Council has kept him. You try not to let yourself be disappointed; it would be too lucky for both of you to be free at the same time, on the same day. All you can do is hope that you can find the time to be together before he has to leave again.
With your schedule more open than ever, you head to your favorite courtyard. The least you can do is soak up some Coruscanti sunshine. But only a quarter of an hour passes before you’re interrupted by the sound of footsteps on cobblestones, headed fast in your direction. Around the corner, scattering the kiros birds, comes a youngling you recognize. It's Gil Graven, a spitfire of a youngling you see in the medbay far more than others his age. He drives his minders crazy with his recklessness, but he’s a sweetheart. Even if you swear you have him admitted once a month for sprains and cuts.
Even now he trips and topples, would have earned the Halls of Healing their first visitor of the day, if you hadn't righted him with a quick pull of the Force.
"Easy, Gil. Where's the fire?" You smile, watching the kid tug his too-large tunic back onto his shoulder.
"Fire? There's no fire, miss. I was looking for you!"
His eyes go round with confusion, cheeks red from running. You forgot how literal younglings could be.
"I meant -- wait, looking for me? What's wrong? Who's hurt?"
Kriff. You should've known taking a day off would backfire. Something had happened in the fifteen minutes you’d had your butt parked in the grass. You get to your feet, gripping the pouch of emergency bacta on your belt.
"Oh! It's not a healer thing." Gil bounces in place, thinking. "But you're needed in the training halls! And they told me to find you quick!"
"Gil, calm down for a minute, okay?" The training halls? Why on Ryloth were you wanted there? "Who told you?"
He shrugs, unhelpful. “I dunno. I’ve never met ‘im before. But he told me to go get the Knight from the Healing Halls ‘cause no one’s been admitted today, and you’d be able to help him.”
You’re still not sure if this is a healer problem, or a matter of simple confusion. Gil’s got a touch of what healers like to call bouncy brain. Sweet as he is, he talks at lightspeed and can’t seem to concentrate if he isn’t moving. There’s a real possibility that he’s got something mixed up here. Still, it’s not as if you’re doing anything else. The Force must have decided that you need to keep busy.
You decide to see what he’s going on about. “Okay, Gil. Lead the way.”
-----
Lingering outside one of the larger training rooms is Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who smiles when he spots Gil leading you over by the hand.
“There you are!” He crouches down to greet your youngling escort, clapping him on the shoulder. “Thank you, Gil, I am so glad you found our friend. You may go now.”
Gil bows to him, his Force blooming under the praise. “Yes, Master.” You both watch as he takes off the way he came, speeding back up to a run.
“No running!” You scold after him. He barely slows before he’s out of sight.
Master Ki-Adi-Mundi chuckles. “That one reminds me of our own Anakin Skywalker.”
You nod, seeing the resemblance. Anakin is five years your junior, but he was still notorious when you were Padawans. Always turning up where he shouldn’t have been, Obi-Wan always three steps behind. Nothing’s changed, Obi-Wan often tells you.
“Master,” you say, hearing the low buzz of voices coming from the room you’re standing in front of. “Gil said you needed me? Is someone injured?”
“Hm? Oh! Oh stars, no.” Master Ki-Adi shakes his head, looking sheepish. “But I was rather hoping you’d be able to help me with a little problem I’ve run into.”
“Of course.” Okay, now I'm suspicious.
Ki-Adi tugs the end of his beard. “My squadron is being called out to fight on very short notice, I’m afraid. I was meant to teach today’s lesson, and was lucky enough to find a substitute for myself on short notice. But my instruction partner is leaving as well, and I haven’t yet found them a suitable replacement.”
“O-oh,” you hear yourself squeak.
Karabast. He wants you to teach? Your stomach drops somewhere near your ankles. This is so far from what you were expecting when Gil led you here. You can’t do this. You can’t.
Ki-Adi must feel your panic, because he continues quickly. “Don’t fret, my dear! My substitute is a very capable instructor. Follow his lead, and everything will be fine.” He claps a hand on your shoulder, turning away.
“Thank you again -- and now I really must be off.” And with that, he’s gone, walking at a brisk pace down the corridor.
CW starts here!
You’re so anxious that you feel like you’re about to be sick. You’ve done many things on behalf of the Council, often without knowing what they even were, but this? You can’t do this. There’s too many people. You lean against the doorframe, struggling for breath.
What’s the matter? Obi-Wan’s concern comes rushing in, and you’re grateful you have him to latch onto, to focus on.
Someone's asked a favor of me -- and I don’t think I can do it. You’re gripping your saber hilt too tight, the metal biting into your hand.
Please try to calm down. Find somewhere to sit and meditate, collect yourself --
Your anxiety is affecting him, making his own thoughts race even if he doesn’t know the cause. This sometimes happens. You’ve jolted awake in the middle of the night more than once with nightmares that weren’t your own, or had thoughts that didn’t make sense ‘til you realized they weren’t yours.
I can’t.
Why not?
You don’t reply. You have to go in there. Master Ki-Adi said that he was already late. Remembering your breathing, you focus on a count of four in through your nose, then hold the breath for a count of seven. When you exhale, you count to eight. After repeating the exercise several times, you can think straight. It’s not the more in-depth meditation Obi-Wan would have preferred, but it helps. All you can do is hope that the instructor carries much of the class, as Master Ki-Adi said he would.
When it feels like you’ve released much of your fear and uncertainty to the Force, you open the door and step in.
CW ends here!
Immediately, twenty pairs of curious Padawan eyes move to follow you, and you cringe. They all sit cross-legged on the padded floor. Three of the walls are lined with mirrors, the better for students to see fighting forms and sparring matches from every angle. On a side wall, a flimsi depicting each form of saber combat stretches the length of the room, cut off only by the supply closet where training accessories are stored. You’ve been in this room and its adjacent siblings dozens of times. But all that isn’t as important to you as the instructor, who’s turned to see why the room’s gone quiet.
It’s Obi-Wan.
Standing bare-foot on one of room-length training mats, in the middle of handing out sparring sticks to the class, he freezes when you lock eyes.
Oh, he says, equal parts shock and happiness.
Yeah.
I say this with the greatest respect, darling -- why did Master Ki-Adi send you?
Because the Healing Halls are completely empty. Also to torture me. You grimace, joining him at the front of the room. He nods to you in greeting, as if you aren’t having a mental conversation.
“Knight Courtee. Glad to see you could join us.”
“I apologize, Master. It was short notice for me, as well.” You bow to him.
Is this what you were so worked up about? They’re only Padawans. They don’t bite -- much.
Once the group realizes that you’re the other instructor that Obi-Wan’s been waiting for, the chatter resumes. They stop ogling you. From the looks of the group, they’re all in the late teens, and bubbling over with energy. Right in the middle of Padawan and Knight, but with all the arrogance to think they’re already the latter. Away from their Masters in a group like this, they tend to get far rowdier than they would otherwise. Each has a lightsaber strapped to their belt.
“Run me through the lesson?” you say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Quiet!” Obi-Wan demands over his shoulder, and you jump. The loudest cluster of Padawans instantly falls silent behind you.
Sorry, he thinks at you. I’m starting to see why Ki-Adi jumped on the first ship leaving the system.
“Amina, lose the gum. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Yes, now. Navo, do I have to move you to the other side of the room? Don’t think I won’t.”
Mumbles of yes, Master, break out before he turns back to you, satisfied. You don’t smile but know he feels your amusement.
“We’ll be running through some more advanced katas,” Obi-Wan says. “Then we’ll break them into pairs and focus on the saber technique of each pair. At the end of the lesson, you and I will give a demonstration on a chosen form. Perhaps more than one, if the class requests it.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” you admit, thinking back to your own group Padawan lessons. You’d dreaded the paired sparring sessions, having your own form broken down and scrutinized. In the end, though, it had improved your skills. Being able to do the same for this group would be an honor. This is a big piece of being a Jedi, after all; skills passed down from Master to Knight to Padawan.
“It isn’t. Just don’t let them smell your fear,” he grins. “Let’s get started.”
As noisy as the group is, you can tell they’re genuinely excited to be in a session led by Master Kenobi. And Obi-Wan really knows how to lead the room. While you stand stiffly off to the side, nodding whenever he finishes saying something and hoping you don’t look like an idiot, he uses the space. He explains the lesson to them as he explained it to you, then asks if anyone has any questions.
The girl who’d been caught with gum earlier, Amina, raises her hand. Her other hand is busy twirling her long Padawan braid, like she can’t help but fidget with it. “Um, Master Kenobi, why are we using sparring sticks? We’ve had lightsabers for a while now.”
A murmur of agreement washes through the crowd, and Obi-Wan smirks.
“Good question, Padawan. Everyone, close your eyes and reach through the Force. Do you feel how tumultuous the energy in this room is? How excitable? If any one of you lit your saber in this room, I fear someone would lose a limb. And that’s something that Knight Courtee can’t fix for you. So we play it safe.”
Another hand punctuates the air, from the very front of the crowd. This Padawan seems younger than the rest, with hair that sticks up everywhere and eyes focused only on Obi-Wan. He starts speaking before he can be called on.
“All due respect, Master,” he says, in a way that makes you think that he’s used to sharing unorthodox opinions. The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth quirks up as he fights a smile, and you feel him think of Anakin.
“Why are we here? We’re fighting a war. Many of us have already seen combat alongside our Masters.” He lowers his eyes to the mat, afraid he’s gone too far. When his fellow Padawans start nodding and whispering, he tugs on the end of his nerf-tail, as if unsure of what to do.
Obi-Wan takes a moment to consider this question, hand going to his beard as it often does when he’s thinking.
“I appreciate your honesty, Caleb. And you’re correct. It might seem...redundant to spend your time here when even now fellow Jedi are fighting real battles.”
He pauses, thinking of how to continue. The Padawans are hanging onto his every word, the room silent. “But that’s why it’s so important to refine your technique when we can spare the time, in a secure environment. It will make you stronger when you face a real opponent. It might even save your life. Does that make sense?”
Wow, you think to yourself. He’d handled that beautifully. Even though Caleb had spoken out of turn, Obi-Wan hadn’t belittled him or made the teen feel bad about what was an honest and important question. He’d taken the time to consider the Padawan’s feelings, and had given him an equally honest answer, not something to pacify him. It takes you back to your own Padawan training, when Obi-Wan had been your instructor.
“Yes, Master,” Caleb ducks his head, looking relieved. “thank you.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes search the room. “Anything else?”
After a pause, another hand goes up, toward the back.
“Millu?” You love that he knows everyone by name. Some Padawans turn around to reveal a burly Mon Calamari boy.
“Yeah.” His bright yellow eyes dart over to you. “Uh, speaking of Knight Courtee. Why are you teaching us? I thought you were just, like, a healer.” There’s no real malice in his tone, more like an off-handed curiosity, but Obi-wan stiffens.
Luckily you think of something to say before he can open his mouth. It wouldn’t look good for him to get upset defending you.
“That’s an excellent question, Millu, thank you.” You shoot him a smile, and you swear his scales darken with a blush.
“Being a Jedi with healing abilities does not mean that you get to neglect other aspects of your training. On the contrary, your connection with the Force must be powerful at all times. Healing will swamp you physically and emotionally, so you must keep both body and mind strong to withstand it.”
Your smile widens. “Of course, if you’re asking if you can best me in a fight, we’ll see how you match up during paired spars. Sound good?”
Laughter breaks out, and Millu blushes even darker before muttering, “Sure,” and looking away. Even if it seemed like he was questioning your ability to teach them (as you yourself are), you’re grateful the interaction’s lightened the mood.
Nicely done, says Obi-Wan.
“Very good,” he says aloud, clapping his hands together. “Now if we’re done heckling Knight Courtee, let’s begin with some stretches, please.”
------
Obi-Wan was right, you think, walking around the room. This...isn’t bad at all. You walk from pair to pair, taking in the angle of their weapon, how they hold their bodies, making minor corrections and leaving comments as you go. They look up when you come by, eager to see what you’re going to say to them. It’s much easier to interact with the Padawans on this smaller scale, and you find yourself joking with them, smiling. After a while, they even start asking for you, looking to see if you can demonstrate a move or if they’re holding the training stick the correct way. They aren’t scary at all -- just excitable kids who want to learn.
I’m sorry, Obi-Wan was what?
Looking up, you see Obi-Wan grinning across the room, demonstrating his own correction. In the middle of all this excitable teen Force energy, it’s easy for you to have a conversation and go unnoticed.
You were right. I like this.
And you’re good at it; they adore you. You’re going to make a wonderful Master. He shows you a brief image of a happy Padawan trailing behind you, eager to follow wherever you lead. It’s the best feeling, love.
Unexpected emotion rises in your chest at his pure sincerity. He knows how insecure you are about the fact that you’ll soon have your own Padawan to look after, but he doesn’t have a single doubt that you can do it. For the first time, you let yourself think of the situation in a hopeful light. It was a path you never pictured for yourself, but one that you know you have to follow. Obi-Wan makes it look so easy. Anakin, and even Anakin’s Padawan Ahsoka, look at him like he hung the stars. Of course, so do you.
“Last twenty minutes!” Obi-Wan calls over the noise of sparring sticks clacking together. “Take a seat, class.”
The Padawans rush to do as they’re told, everyone clamoring for the best spot to view your spar with Master Kenobi. They go completely silent, waiting for you to join him. A hush even falls over the Force energy in the room, like they’re all holding their breath.
Obi-Wan sinks into a bow when you’re opposite him, one hand on his saber. When you glance down in confusion, he sends a wave of amusement.
I said I didn’t trust the Padawans, darling. Not you.
Not sure if that’s wise. You bow in return, unclipping your saber also. He ignites his blade, the blue glow casting light over all the reflections of the mirrors. Taking a deep breath, trusting the familiar feeling of your own weapon, you ignite your lightsaber. The bright green light shimmers over your hands, crackling with your energy.
You’re surprised at how nervous you are. It’s one thing to watch him from across the room, to be taught by him as a Padawan yourself, but to spar with Obi-Wan as an equal? He’s going to wipe the floor with you.
“What form does Knight Courtee use?” You hear somebody whisper.
“Form five -- she told me.”
“Oooh, really? That’ll be fun to see against Master Kenobi.”
“Shhh!”
Obi-Wan waits until the group is quiet again to ask if you’re ready to start. Your saber hums hot in your hand, a little less controlled than you’d like it.
“Ready as I can be, Master.”
“Then let’s begin.”
No sooner are the words out of his mouth than he’s in your space, much closer than you want him with a lightsaber in hand. You strike out instinctively and he expected that, anticipated it. He was baiting you. Your blade bounces off of his far more harshly than you like, the zyoom echoing through the room. You take a step back, try to calculate an opening. He mirrors you, waiting to react. It takes you longer than it should to realize that he’s shielded the bond up tight, not giving anything away. The only thing you can hear is your heartbeat and the crackling of the sabers, each one fueled by its master’s adrenaline.
He keeps his blade held at eye level, and you lunge in for a mid-range attack. Obi-Wan blocks but you keep it coming, getting back into the groove of Djem So after spending so long out of combat. It feels good to have the saber be a part of you, to have it grow lighter as it remembers your touch.
Strike, block, strike, block. You’re working at a breakneck rhythm trying to get through his defenses, but Obi-Wan won’t give an inch. Sweat pours down your temple but still you press, using the Force to try and search for a weak point but finding none. He’s too kriffing fast.
There’s a reason they call him Master of this form. It’s infuriating, the almost lazy way he flicks your lightsaber aside every time, using your energy against you. There’s not a hair out of place on him. Every time you lower your blade, wondering what to do, he simply resets, content to wait again. You can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows you’re getting tired.
The Padawans are anything but quiet now -- some shouting Get her, Master Kenobi! while others insist that you can hold your own. Your eyes flick over to them once. Some lean forward towards the fight as far as they dare, a few are even on their feet in support.
When Obi-Wan finally tips his saber in retaliation, you barely manage to block, caught off guard at the change from defense to offense. He strikes again, again, again -- each blow more brutal than the last, each one so close to your skin that you can feel his blue saber’s sizzling heat. He’s driving you back against the wall. Despite your best effort, you’re losing ground where you’d previously held it. When you feel your back slam against the wall he was driving you toward, you gasp and fumble a block -- your last move. The blade of Obi-Wan’s saber hovers near your throat, a win.
“And that’s your head,” he says easily. You lower your saber and extinguish the blade, holding your hands up in a show of defeat.
The room erupts.
“Master Kenobi, that was so wizard --”
“Knight Courtee was letting him have it! Did you see --?”
“I wish I could have recorded that for the holo!”
“Settle down,” Obi-Wan says, but he’s smiling. “I’m glad that you all have found this lesson so illuminating.” He bows to you, signalling the end of the match, and you follow suit.
“You’re dismissed,” he says to the room. The declaration is met with mixed reactions; half are glad to be free, half don’t want the lesson to be over yet.
“No need to hang around and help tidy this time. You were such a good group that Knight Courtee and I are glad to take care of it.” It’s traditional for students to stick around after the lesson is done and help roll up the training mats, collect the sparring sticks, and clean the room in any other way that needs it.
That statement really gets them out the door, though several of them whine about him being far cooler than their regular teacher and why can't he teach them all the time?
Once everyone’s filed out, Obi-Wan locks the door behind them. He turns to you with a long sigh, relieved that the loudness of all those teenagers in one place has dispersed.
“Well,” you say. “That’s not how I expected my morning to go.”
“I’m glad,” Obi-Wan replies. “I was beginning to think that I wouldn’t see you at all in my time home, yet here we are.”
“Like the Force willed it.”
He beams at that, drawing you tight against him. “C’mere. My bright little instructor.”
You grumble, cheek pressed against his chest. “You flayed me within an inch of my life, Obi-Wan.”
All he does in response to your grumpiness is chuckle, placing warm kisses everywhere he can reach on your face. “Yes. I did.”
“It was embarrassing.”
“I couldn’t exactly go easy on you, could I?”
No, he couldn’t. Everyone knows the extent of Obi-Wan’s skill, and while you aren't untalented with a saber, winning or even overcoming him would be unlikely. You’d fought honestly, and so had he. Anything else would have invoked suspicion.
He takes your silence for the correct answer, then gently pries your cheek from his body.
“Would it help if you got kisses as a consolation prize?” He’s looking at you so fondly, like you’re his favorite thing in the galaxy. You nod, already leaning on your tiptoes to reach.
Obi-Wan hums against your lips, sinking against you like he’s been waiting for this -- because you both have. The kisses stay close-mouthed, but he’s pressing them onto you fast, his hands roaming you urgently. Your bond tells you that he wants to take his time with you, would have each moment stretch out for as long as possible, if he could. He wants to savor you. But arousal is winning out.
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, pulling back to brush his nose against yours. “Do you know how much restraint it took not to pin you against the wall and have you, at the end of our fight? To resist sending all the little Padawans away right then?”
You gasp, feeling heat stirring deep in your stomach. The honey-sweetness of his tone contrasts with his words, but he’s just getting started.
“There was such fire in your eyes when we sparred, kitten." Kitten. Yet another pet name to add to your already large collection. This one makes you blush, and you don't miss Obi-Wan's pleased grin. "I had to shut you out so that you wouldn’t get distracted by my, er, distraction.”
His distraction presses up against your leg now, thick and hot. Obi-Wan tugs the end of your braid hard, tilting your head back to expose your neck. You whimper against him, all but letting him hold you up at this point. He loves it -- going to work at once nipping and kissing everywhere he can get to. His breath is heavy on your skin as he ruts against your thigh, trying and failing to bite back his own ecstatic moans.
“We’re alone now,” you choke out, hardly aware enough to string the sentence together. “s-so you can -- do whatever you want with me.”
This makes him pause. “Is that so?” Obi-Wan’s tone is still so light, like you’re having a conversation about what they’re serving in the refectory today, not how badly you want him to fuck you.
“Yes,” you say, embarrassed at how desperate you sound, how easily you melt for him. You can see yourself over his shoulder in the mirrors, and you blush, burying your face.
He laughs a little at your reaction. “What if I want to take you into that supply closet and bend you over?” His hand roams down your body, landing on your crotch. Two fingers rub a strong circle through the material, and you lean into it. “What if I want to take you from behind, make up for all the time we haven’t been together?”
“I’d ask why -- aren’t we already there,” you huff, blinking up at him.
That’s all the answer he needs. In one motion, he grabs you round the middle and hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of meilooruns. Your breath whooshes out, surprise and a lack of air keeping you from forming a sentence as he marches you to the closet as promised. The ground bounces and sways in your vision as you’re jostled -- it’s a strange sensation, being carried. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds.
Obi-Wan opens the door and closes it just as quickly once you’re both inside, making you aware of how small, how dark, the space is. You find yourself deposited on the storage bin that the mats are kept in, your legs dangling high in the air. He leans in to kiss you, nothing but hot breath and hungry hands, and you fist your own in the front of his tunic. It spurs him on, and soon his tongue is pressing into your open mouth, exploring every corner.
You moan into him, your fingers going beyond clothes to scratch against his chest. Obi-Wan picks you up again and you lift your legs around his waist, rubbing tight against his cock. He bears your entire weight like it’s nothing, continuing to kiss you as if your legs are planted on the ground. Stars, the strength, the eagerness of him, is overwhelming. His arms are pillars, holding you steady, crossed firm around your back.
"I thought you said," you gasp out, shivering when his tongue flicks out to catch your earlobe, "something about -- bending me over --"
“So eager today,” he says, his voice a tantalizing purr.
“Can you blame me?” you blurt.
"And what does that mean, dearest?"
He already knows what you mean. It’s everywhere in your mind. You can’t hide how you feel when you’ve been this close to him for so long, forbidden to touch him, to even think about it until you’ve reached your breaking point.
Obi-Wan, hands behind his back, patiently watching the Padawans demonstrate their forms. Nodding and sometimes stepping in to correct, placing his hand casually on an arm or leg to shift the balance of their weight. Then the Padawan he’s correcting becomes you, and his touch is no longer innocent. The group is melting away, and his mouth is trailing down your neck, whispering things that have little to do with the kata you’re struggling through.
“Oh,” he chuckles. “I see.”
You bump your head into his shoulder, too embarrassed to answer. As if to reassure you, Obi-Wan sends you an image back.
Both of you in the same training room, but you stand among your fellow Padawans, now all Knights, shuffling anxiously from foot to foot. You don't look that much different from the way you do now, but for the traditional Padawan's hairstyle.
Though you're seeing things from his perspective, the mirrors give him away; Obi-Wan looks younger, too. There are no lines around his eyes here, he holds himself more loosely. Like there isn't a galaxy-wide war. And he's less certain as he flits from student to student, new at this.
"You were always a pleasure to speak to, you know," Obi-Wan tells you, low voice right in your ear. He knows that he's teasing you, knows exactly the effect it's having on your body. You squirm in his tight grip, unable to go anywhere to get away from the softness of his voice.
"Polite and passionate. Made your Master very proud. But…" he trails off, and you shiver, anticipating his next words.
"So anxious whenever you saw me, weren't you?" He muses, fingers flexing on the curve of your ass. "And now I finally understand why."
"Obi-Wan…" you protest, unsure of what you're going to say next but just knowing that you need the teasing to stop. Both mental and physical -- he's hard against your abdomen, almost painful with how tight you're wedged against him.
"Down, love," he says. With effort, you extract your legs from around his waist and plant your feet on the floor, with his hands to guide you. "Turn around."
For a moment, you get excited, thinking that he's done teasing you. Obi-Wan makes quick work of your belt, dropping it to the floor seconds before your pants and underwear. You step out of them, breathing heavily, feeling his chest against your back. There's a clink, and you realize that he's dropped his belt as well, one hand bracing on your shoulder as he fumbles out of his own bottoms.
There's nothing between you now. Obi-Wan's bare dick rubs against your tailbone, leaving a warm dribble of pre-come.
"Now bend forward for me, darling -- that's it --"
You lean on the storage bin, heart thumping a tattoo in your throat. Obi-Wan lines himself up behind you, breath ragged, and sinks inside you in one long push.
"Obi-Wan, oh," you cry out, not expecting how full you'd feel from this angle.
"I know, sweetheart, I know," he says, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. His mind is a high buzz of pleasure, looking forward to taking you apart in this new, delicious way.
Then he moves. So, so deep and slow. You let out a broken whine, toes curling. He pauses, holds his breath. Then thrusts again, just as unhurried as the first time, and your fingers scrabble for purchase on the smooth material of the bin in front of you.
“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you know, this reminds me of something.”
You groan, not out of pleasure, but because he’s stopped. How? Where and how did he find the restraint to torment you like this? You’re not sure which part of today’s interaction set him off, but you sorely wish that he’d get down to business and fuck you.
“What does it remind you of?” you ask tightly, figuring that playing along will get you where you want to be faster. As if rewarding you, Obi-Wan’s hands come around to find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the barest of touches. Gods if he doesn’t go faster --
He can hear your mind loud and clear, but says nothing, only sending a feeling of amusement back before answering your question.
"Watching you go through katas in this very room. Or, well, the room outside." Obi-Wan presses into your back, finally starting to push into you in a slow but satiating rhythm.
"Mmm," you manage, pressing your lips together hard to avoid reaching an inappropriate volume.
“Do you remember the criticism I had for you, little Padawan? You were so tense. Why was that?” All the while he’s languidly thrusting into you from behind. As if he expects you to form a coherent response.
“I l-liked you,” you stammer out, bracing yourself on the edge of the storage bin.
"Oh? Well, I liked you too. You were a wonderful student."
"That's not what I --" Thank the Maker that it's pitch black in this closet, because your face is burning.
"But for some reason," he continues, enjoying himself, "you always needed correction in solo practice. The other Masters told me, several times, that that was not an issue in their own lessons."
You can only whimper as he bears into you deeper. He knows exactly what he's doing to you. When you place a hand on your stomach, just above your belly button, you can feel him inside you.
"Tell me, sweetheart. Did you need my hands on your body, as desperately as you do now?"
"Yes, Master," you all but sob. "I need, I n-need --"
"Need me to fuck you?" Obi-Wan supplies, voice going rough and breathy. "Need me to wreck you, the way your mind is screaming for it?"
You slam the palm of your hand on the top of the bin, and it makes a hollow thud, sending pain shooting up your arm.
"Obi-Wan, yes! Please, please fuck me, I need it!" You're aware that your words border on incoherence, but not enough to care.
And he doesn't either.
Just as you've reached your limit, so does Obi-Wan. One of his hands grabs your wrist and pins it, hard, while the other squeezes your hip.
"Are you ready?" He pants in your ear, pausing only to nip at your shoulder blade. Already he's fucking you deeper, so good so thick inside you, that you're writhing under his every touch.
"Wanted to do this -- for s-so long --" Obi-Wan gasps out and so do you, the heat of orgasm reaching a crescendo in your thighs as you feel him come apart in your mind.
"Want to come so deep inside you, darling, oh please, please --"
You know that he's barely hanging on, waiting for your permission.
"Gods, Master, yes --" Like you could deny him this, when you want it so desperately too.
His forehead drops to your shoulder as he rams into you, shoving you against the bin. It takes everything you have not to scream his name when you come, gripping his arm -- the only part of him you can reach from this angle.
Obi-Wan isn't far behind, moaning loud behind you as your orgasm makes your pussy clamp down even tighter on him.
"Yes, yes, oh my Gods --"
The bond flares up sudden and white-hot between you, carrying the sensation of Obi-Wan's pleasure just as it had that night on Odryn.
"Kriff," you say weakly, clutching his arm like it's the only thing connecting you to the planet.
Sweetheart, I'm there, I'm right there
I know, and I'm -- me too --
Again?
Yes
Oh fuck, fuck -- I'm coming, stars, I'm coming, oh --
You come a second time when Obi-Wan starts to spurt inside you, tears spilling from the intensity of it all. With him this tight against your body, you swear you can feel every hot spurt of come shoot up inside you. Obi-Wan's teeth are caught in the material of your tunic, muffling his shout. It feels like you stand there, taking his come for minutes, as he shudders against you.
When it's over you whimper, leaning against his chest on aftershock-weak legs. Slowly, as if his head is one step behind, Obi-Wan puts his arms around you.
"Stars above, Obi-Wan," you mutter, every coherent thought fucked out of your head. Your brain feels like static, but your body's floating. Pulling out and turning you gently to face him again, Obi-Wan plants a line of soft kisses from your forehead to your mouth. His release runs heavy down your thighs, but there's not much you can do about it here.
"Not tense now, are you?" he says, tracing slow, wet circles over your sensitive clit.
You laugh. "You're unbelievable."
"No, I'm committed to a scene," Obi-Wan corrects, as if this was all an elaborate game.
You consider saying something along the lines of, I'm going to commit my boot to your rear end if you don't quit it, but think better of it.
Instead you re-dress, wincing at the mess you'll have to tolerate down your crotch and legs until you can get to the nearest fresher. This is the downfall of spontaneous sex. No easy cleanup.
"Next time, would you like to come with me?" Obi-Wan's asking. You snort, buckling your belt back into place.
"Pretty sure I just did. You didn't notice?"
He pauses, then opens the closet door, letting in a blinding slice of light. Though he's dressed, Obi-Wan looks disheveled and wide-eyed still in a way that you always adore.
"That's...no. That's not what I'm talking about, love," he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.
"I mean, the next time I have to leave. Come with me. I think we've both come to realize that being apart is painful. And that being together isn't just a physical concept anymore."
His voice has dropped to a near-whisper, but you're hanging on to every word. Though you'd never admit it aloud, this is exactly what you want. To follow him instead of lying awake every night, worrying he won't come back from the last distant system he's shipped away to. You want to be beside him, no matter how rough things are.
You are a Jedi, not a housewife. And frankly, being kept in the Temple while he's away risking his neck, the bond blocked for days or weeks at a time, is torture.
Obi-Wan listens to all this, your outpouring of emotion through the bond you never meant to forge with him. He shows his understanding, his respect, his compassion for you, in return.
"Okay. Okay," he says, more to himself than you. "I'll speak to the Council. Knowing them, it may take some time to get an answer, but --"
You cut him off with a kiss. It doesn't matter. As long as you're together.
#come what may ao3#wickedscribbles#obi wan smut#ziva courtee#obi wan x you#obi-wan series#obi wan kenobi#obi wan x oc#obi-wan x oc
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firewood (g.w)
Pairing: George Weasley x Gryffindor!Reader
Warning: Smut, cursing
Words: 1,497
A/N: this is my first fic I’ve ever written, so all critique and comments are welcome!
Hagrid asks you to watch his new puppy while he is away. All of a sudden George shows up to the hut, which turns out to be a great thing later on.
_______________________________________________________
"I sure appreciate you watching over Fang and little Pixie while I'm away, Y/N" Hagrid thanks you as he hauls a heavy-looking trunk down the stairs of his hut.
"Couldn't imagine leaving that little devil by herself, even with Fang being there" he admits.
"I'm glad I could help. Besides, I've got some studying to do, could use some peace and quiet for once" you tell the man, making your way inside the cozy home.
"Well you have fun with that, I'll be back tomorrow" Hagrid laughs and makes his way out.
You close the door behind you and move your attention to the dogs staring at you from the couch. Hagrid had gotten Pixie a few months ago, a boarhound such as Fang, but as white as snow. A beautiful creature. Making your way to the couch, you position yourself next to the dogs and take out your homework. Living with your roommates was great, but sometimes those girls were way too noisy to even hear one's thoughts, and studying in the common room was out of the question.
After a few hours of work, you start to shiver. Winter wasn't nearly over, and the ground was still heavily coated with snow. You grab your coat and head outside to get some wood for a fire leaving the door open. After picking up some logs nearby, you hurry back inside with shivers from the freezing wind. Getting a fire to start turned out to be much harder than anticipated. After a few frustrating attempts, you hear a voice from behind you.
"You need some help with that?" You yelp back and scream, eyes meeting with a certain Gryffindor ginger.
"Jesus George, what the hell are you doing here?" You ask the boy while picking up the matches from the ground.
"You do know that we can start fires with our wands, right?" George asks with an amused look on his face.
"Of course I do!" you claim although the thought had never crossed your mind. You turn back to the fire and begin trying again. After a while, a roaring fire is born.
"You didn't answer my question, what are you here for George?" you ask your friend of many years.
"Heard Harry talk that you were here, and was bored," he answers while plopping down on an armchair. Making your way back to the couch, you put away the books and look a the ginger again. George gives you his charming smile and lifts his feet to the coffee table.
"Where's Fred?" you ask. Usually, the twins were a package deal.
"Not sure" he admits. You nod at the answer, not feeling the need to know more.
You talk for a while, about classes and mutual friends mostly. You had known George for five years since the day both of you made your way to Hogwarts. You hadn't known anyone and made the great mistake of sharing a seat with the twins on the train. For the first few years you only hung out when there were other Gryffindor students with you, but after a while, you started to become closer with George. You also spent a great deal of time with Fred, but you two didn't share the same kind of connection. George had become one of your best friends.
"You know, your great fire is dying" the ginger mocks. You curse under your breath and grab a metallic stick from the edge of the fireplace. Unfortunately, the heat had sucked itself into the stick, and you hiss while throwing the thing to the ground.
"Shit" you curse through your teeth while holding your now red hand.
"You okay Y/N?" George asks while he makes his way next to you.
"Yeah I'm fine, the bloody stick was piping hot" you whine. George grabs your hand and inspects it. He helps you up from the ground and takes you to the couch. The ginger sits next to you and looks right into your eyes. He takes the burned hand into his and brings it to his lips. He starts to kiss the burns gently.
"George, wha-" you try to ask him what he's doing, but find yourself at a loss of words the boy starts to make his way up your arm with his lips. All of a sudden you realize George's face is right in front of you.
"I'm gonna kiss you now, so say something quickly if you don't want me to," he says. You blink not saying a word. Sure, you had imagined what it would feel like kissing George, but never had you imagined that you would get to experience it. Before you know, the ginger places his lips to yours. The first kiss is gentle and quick. When your lips part, you look at his brown eyes, a smile playing on your face. This time it's you that starts the kiss. You make your way closer to George, putting one of your hands in his hair. The kiss starts to get more hungry, and before you know it, George picks you up into his lap.
"Just say if you want me to stop" he murmurs between kissing your neck. Finding a sweet spot, you let out a small moan.
"I take that as a sing to keep on going" George laughs as he tightens the grip on your hips. You let your hands wander in his long hair while the boy finds his way back to your lips. George's hands soon find their way to the hem of your shirt, and you help him get rid of it.
"Shit, Y/N. You look so beautiful." George says taking the sight in. You feel a new level of confidence as you start grinding yourself at the boy's hips, getting a low moan in answer.
"Fuck, I need more" George pleas, as he flips you under him. He throws his shirt on the ground and starts to unbutton his pants as you get rid of the rest of your clothing. Soon the only fabric between you is the thin material of your underwear.
"Gorgeous" the ginger whispers under his breath while kissing the sensitive skin of your breasts. You moan back an answer to him, keeping yourself steady by holding onto his toned arms. George's fingers find their way under your panties and start to circle your clit.
"You're so wet, just for me" George pants as he inserts a finger inside of you. He starts pumping into you slowly, and after a while adds in another finger.
"George, please" you plea as you grind against his hand. George finds your lips and kisses you harshly. His thumb finds your clit again as he quickens the pace. Your breath begins to quicken and you can feel your body squirming under his grip.
"Come for me" George growls. You feel your hole tighten around his fingers as you come moaning his name. George takes his hand out of you and kisses your forehead.
"You did amazing Y/N, you're so beautiful" he praises you.
"I want to feel all of you" you whisper as you look deep into his eyes. George smiles sweetly at you as he gets rid of his underwear. You throw yours into the pile of clothes that now laid next to you. George makes his way back on top of you, attacking your neck with his lips. You can feel his hardness teasing your folds as he nips your shoulder.
"You sure?" George asks you. You bite your lip and nod at him. You feel a tightness around your hole as George begins to push himself inside of you. After entering fully, he begins to move slowly. After a while, that tightness turns into pleasure, and you start to pant again. George slowly picks up the pace.
"Don't stop" you moan as you bring your hand to your clit. You can already feel the second orgasm building up in your stomach.
"You want me to go faster?" George smirks as he nips your ear with his teeth.
"Oh god yes!" you yell while the waves of pleasure keep hitting you. George slams into your harder, and you can feel him hitting your cervix on every thrust.
"I'm close" you whine as you try to hold out the orgasm as long as you can.
"So am I" George pants. After a few more thrust you cannot hold yourself any longer. You let the pleasure take over as you moan the boy's name. You feel hot cum leaking from where you two are connected. You stay close to each other without saying a word for what feels like forever. After your pulses have lowered back to normal, George gently pulls you apart and takes you into his arms.
"So is this something that is going to happen every time you're bored?" you smile at him.
"Definitely," George answers with the biggest smile on his face, as he kisses you.
#harry potter imagine#harry potter smut#george weasley imagine#george weasley#george weasley smut#fred weasley#harry potter#imagine
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Naimhde
This is also part of Pósadh Eagraithe :The Series and I hope you like it! It’s from Han Solo’s POV when he first realises that 1. Boba’s alive and 2. Boba is married to Din meaning that 3. He can’t shoot Boba :(
Ao3 Link
Naimhde= Enemies
Look, Han Solo was having a good day. Emphasis on was. Ben had slept through the night again so Han got his full recommended hours of rest. Then Leia had had the morning off from the Senate so they had all gone to the park together. Luke was on planet for once with the green frog child so Ben was able to play with him. Leia had told him days ago that they were required to attend a ball that was being hosted to celebrate the Republic getting a treaty with Mandalore so he’d already gone through the seven stages of grief about that.
Now, he’s at said ball and across the room from him, Boba fucking Fett is smirking at him. Han snarls at the look the bastard has on his (apparently very scarred?) face but Leia puts a warning hand on his shoulder. “I know that’s Fett but he’s the leader of the Tatooine crime syndicate now, and rumour has it he’s taken over a couple more of the Hutt Space planets. He’s powerful, Han, and he probably hates us enough. No fighting.” She hisses into his ear.
Of course Boba Fett came out of a fucking sarlacc pit to become a godsdamned crime lord. He shouldn’t have been surprised. And he clearly has some sort of power in Mandalore because Mandalorians aren’t naturally deferential but they seem to treat Fett with an extra bit of respect.
A silver Mandalorian comes over to Fett and says something lowly to him. Fett nods and saunters over to Han and Leia with the other Mando striding ahead of him. “That’s the Mand’alor, their king. No one knows his name or species and he never takes his helmet off in front of non-Mandalorians. He signed the treaty as ‘Mand’alor the Reclaimer’ and his people adore him. He’s rumoured to be absolutely deadly, so once again, Han, I don’t care if he’s coming over with Boba Fett, behave.” Leia whispers and Han suppresses his urge to punt Fett into the nearest star.
Contrary to popular belief, Han is smart enough not to piss off the ruler of a warrior culture that are supposedly the greatest fighters in the galaxy. He got lucky with Fett the first time, he’s not making the man’s whole planet mad at him by fucking with their king.
Their pretty intimidating king, he’s not gonna lie. There’s a veritable armoury on the Mand’alor’s person and Han can see the familiar shape of a lightsaber hilt at his waist. Leia had mentioned something about a ‘Darksaber’ and Han does not want to find out the difference between a Darksaber and a lightsaber firsthand.
The Mand’alor inclines his head in a regal greeting as he halts in front of Leia. “Senator Organa, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person. Luke mentions you often.” He says in a low, smooth voice. Huh. Han is absolutely loyal to Leia but if the Mando king ever offers a threesome…..
Wait, how does Mando know Luke? Leia seems confused too but she hides it well. “The honour is all mine, Your Majesty. I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with my brother though?” She says politely, voicing the question in a much more eloquent manner than Han would’ve.
Mando chuckles and answers her with a smile in his voice. “Cuun ad, Grogu, is one of Luke’s students. He’s the small green one with an affinity for frogs.” He explains and Han raises an eyebrow. Luke had said that Grogu would never grow to be taller than maybe hip height but Mando is of fairly average height for a humanoid species. 5’10 or ’11 maybe.
Leia smiles brightly. “Yes, I do know Grogu. Luke mentioned his father was a Mandalorian. That would be you, then?” She says, relaxing slightly. Talking about children is a safe topic, even when Boba Fett is part of the conversation, and no, Han is not letting that go, he’s a Senator’s trophy husband, he’s mastered the art of polite glaring.
Fett speaks up then, still smirking. “Both of his fathers are Mandalorians. I adopted Grogu when the two of us said the riduurok.” He says, looking directly at Han as his brain freezes in its tracks.
Boba Fett is married? Boba Fett is married to the king of Mandalore? Boba Fett is a father?
None of that computes. Han Solo and Boba Fett are not supposed to have anything in common and Boba Fett is most certainly not supposed to be a regular human being with a spouse and kids and apparently a job, if being a crime lord counts as one. But clearly he is and Han is mad about it. It may be irrational but the bastard froze him in carbonite for three years and he’s gotten away with it. Whenever Han imagined Fett it was as a corpse being digested by a plant monster, not as a successful husband and father. Oh, Han is so mad.
Leia squeezes his hand a little tighter than necessary and Han grits his teeth. No fighting. He can do this. He really doesn’t want to do this. Chandrila’s sun is actually quite hot, he knows Beskar has a high melting point but he reckons it wouldn’t hold up against a star. He could just get in the Falcon, with Fett, and then space him beside the star. Boom, problem solved.
Leia is congratulating Fett and the Mand’alor on their marriage and subsequent child. To be completely honest with himself, Han may or not be considering telling Luke to get Grogu into therapy. Having Boba Fett as a father would definitely fuck a kid up.
He tunes back into the conversation as the Mand’alor answers Leia and immediately wishes he hadn’t. “Yes, children are the most important part of our culture. I adopted Grogu before we got together and I actually only met Boba a little while before Luke began teaching him. Boba always knew Grogu was part of the picture and honestly, the kid loves him. His second vow after the riddurok was a gai bal manda for Grogu.” Mando says, helmet tilted towards Fett. It’s probably the armoured equivalent of a sappy look and Han resists the urge to scowl.
He doesn’t know what a riderock or a gabblemanda is but it’s clearly important to Mandalorians and Fett is smiling broadly at his husband. Ugh.
“Oh, that’s incredibly sweet. How did you two meet?” Leia asks and Han screams internally. “When I first Found Grogu, my tribe took on the Hunter’s Guild so we could escape. I was trying to find more Mandalorians and I came across an areuttise on Tatooine who had Boba’s armour. I helped him take down a krayt dragon that was attacking his village and in exchange, he returned the armour to a mando’ad. Boba tracked me to Tython and said he would help me protect Grogu if I gave him back his armour. We were attacked by Dark Troopers and they took Grogu for Moff Gideon. Boba helped me get Grogu back and once he’d taken over Tatooine, he joined our efforts to reclaim Mandalore.” Mando explains and Leia smiles.
“That sounds romantic. The first time I met Han I threatened him.” Leia says anecdotally and Han shoots her a betrayed look. Fett is so going to use that against him somehow, Han just knows it. Instead, Fett just shakes his head and explains further. “Both of us are sol’karta, ‘aromantic’ in Basic. The Mand’alor’s council were concerned about finding a Rid’alor and I was suggested. I accepted, as the Mand’alor is one of my closest friends. I love him dearly but we’re not in love with each other. We’re best friends raising an adorably mischievous ad’ika.” He says and the Mand’alor nods.
Huh. Han can’t say he’s ever heard of an arranged marriage where both parties are friends from the start. He’s sure that some spouses end up as friends but politically arranged marriages in the Core tend to be loveless affairs. He almost finds himself congratulating them on finding a good balance but then he remembers he would be congratulating Fett. Nope, he’s not doing that.
“Oh really? Luke did mention that Grogu has a habit of disappearing on him.” Leia says and Fett laughs. “Yeah, his Force osik enables him a lot. I never realised how much of parenting was going to be coaxing a grumpy toddler off of a ceiling.” He jokes and ugh, Han can relate to that and he’s mad about it. Leia says something in response but Han is too busy glaring at Fett to hear her. The bastard is still smirking, plus he’s not even paying attention to Han, like Han is beneath his notice.
“I know you two have a son, right? If you’re ever on Manda’yaim for diplomacy, perhaps they can hang out together. I know when I was a child, I hated being in boring meetings and Grogu would definitely appreciate a friend.” Fett suggests and Han nearly explodes. Boba Fett’s hellspawn child is not going to corrupt Ben!
“Oh, Ben and Grogu met earlier today actually! Luke is on-planet at the moment and he brought Grogu with him when he heard that your people would be here.” Leia says and Mando’s helmet tilts. It probably means something in Mando Armour Language but Han has no clue what. “Is Luke still on Chandrila?” He asks, seeming curious. “Grogu is due to come home to Manda’yaim next week but if Luke is here, then I might ask if we can bring him home now to save Luke the trip.”
Leia smiles and tells Mando where to find Luke. Mando says his goodbyes and leaves, but Fett stays. They seem to have some form of communicating that Han can’t understand because Fett doesn’t seem confused at all by his husband’s departure without him.
Fett rocks back on his heels before levelling Han with a smug grin. “If you ever feel like going into Fett Space, drop by my palace on Tatooine. I love getting visits from old friends.” He says before bowing to Leia and leaving to follow Mando before Han can splutter a rebuttal. Fett Space! Is he serious?
Apparently he is, as the New Republic receives a missive a few days later, announcing Mandalore’s official recognition of the former Hutt territories as under Boba Fett, their Consort’s, unequivocal rule. It means that if the Republic ever aggravates Mandalore, they would essentially be going to war with the majority of the Outer Rim between Fett’s planets, Mandalore’s vassal planets and the seemingly endless planets that have allied themselves with Mandalore instead of the Republic.
Han isn’t too concerned about the political ramifications, seeing as that’s Leia’s remit and he’s mostly retired, but fuck, he’s mad that he can’t even think about dropkicking Fett into a star without inciting a galaxy-wide conflict. And the bastard knows it. Every time he comes to Republic events as either the Mand’alor’s spouse or as the leader of Fett Space, he acts like the perfect model of decorum so Han can’t even argue that he was provoked.
Han is forty-three, he shouldn’t be having aneurysms but every time he sees Fett his brain stops getting the message. The worst part is that Leia has become friends with the Mandalorian king and Ben is fond of the green child, so Han is forced to interact with Fett on a far too regular basis. Forget Fett, Han is considering launching himself into a star.
Sadly, Leia won’t let him. So Han has to put up with Fett for just a while longer. Speaking of, how old is Fett? Can Han get away with measuring coffins yet? Please say the bastard is at least ninety, he was around during the Clone Wars, there can’t be much left in him. Please, Han is going to lose his mind if he has to play nice with Boba Fett again. And again. And again.
(systems away, Boba’s ears go hot and he knows that Solo is plotting his death once more. Grogu coos and Boba looks down to see the womprat chewing on his pendant again. He chuckles and grabs something softer for Grogu to gnaw at. He has more important things to think about than Solo.)
#posadh eagraithe the series#han solo#boba fett#din djarin#leia organa#bobadin#hanleia#aromantic boba fett#aromantic din djarin#ao3#fanfiction#star wars#the mandalorian
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Who Am I Really?
(Eyeless Jack X Reader)
Iron was all he could taste, as he hugged his arms close to his chest. The white snow that speckled the forest floor contrasted greatly with his newly acquired ash-grey skin. He could feel blood crusting under his fingernails, he could feel the sting of the cold snow underneath his bare feet as he walked. Whatever they did to him, he was no longer human that much was clear, his feet turned more animal-like and had ripped through his old shoes. If he was being honest with himself he knew that from the moment he awoke and could still see that he was no longer human.
Jack Nichols shivered as he caressed the hollow sockets where his eyes should’ve been. They were dripping with the black tar that was mercilessly poured in there by Jenny and her cult.
‘That absolute fucking bitch.’ He thought, and an animal-like snarl tore through his throat. He could feel the stretching and popping of his jaw as he ground his teeth together. Killing her and her stupid friends was therapeutic to him, remembering the taste of their blood as it filled his mouth when he tore out their throats made him feel euphoric. Pausing his steps only for a brief moment he let those memories of eating their flesh and organs consume him, it only served to make his mouth water.
What was wrong with him? Why did that memory, which happened only hours ago, make him so god damn hungry? What exactly had they done to him, as much as he tried not to dwell on that thought the hunger that ate away at him even after the slaughter was almost too much to handle. All Jack wanted when he woke up this morning was to go on a date with a cute girl, get a little drunk, and maybe get lucky (though realistically that was just wishful thinking). The true college experience one might say, even for a med student. Especially with a schedule as busy as his...that was as busy as his. He knew he should’ve just stuck to focusing on school and studying his brain out, god why did he have to listen to his friends as they urged him on the date.
‘What’s the worst that can happen?’
This. This was clearly the worst possible outcome.
What he really couldn’t believe, however, was that he allowed one of the cultists to get a hit on him, and a bad one at that. Turning his head to glance down at the tear in his thigh, it was a deep gash that desperately needed to get medical attention and fast. The only problem the former medical student faced was that whatever was pouring out of his leg wasn’t blood. It was a deep black ooze that stained the white snow that littered the forest floor. In fact, Jack wasn’t even sure if normal medical supplies would even heal his wound. Jack grit his teeth trudging onwards into the forest, a faint buzzing reverberated around in his skull like flies buzzing around a corpse that he couldn’t seem to shake.
He placed his hand against a tree the world spinning around him. Whatever the blood-like substance that was pouring out of his leg was, he was losing it fast. Jack heard the crunching of snow in front of him and a small gasp. It took most of his strength but he picked his head up and snarled. Jack bared his teeth and tried to make himself look as dangerous as possible, he felt like a wild animal that was cornered by the hunter. There was a girl in front of him, she had (h/l) (h/c) hair that was stuffed under a furry winter hat. She took a few steps back, her brown snow boots making giant footprints in her wake. He could hear the blood flowing through this girl’s veins, as her anxiety levels seemed to spike. The anxiety caused her heartbeat to quicken drastically, hearing the sound only served to increase Jack’s seemingly ceaseless hunger. Jack tried to take another step towards her, flexing the sharp nails on his hands but collapsed under his own weight, his fucking leg. He really couldn’t catch a break, could he?
“What are you?” The girl’s voice held a slight quiver to it and Jack could feel her sharp eyes burning holes into his body. He watched as she hesitantly took a step closer, her (f/c) parka standing out against the muted colors of the forest.
“I don’t know.” He responded with a raspy breath, she smelled divine but he had no strength to attack. Something in his bones told him that he was beyond human, something so much more, a god perhaps? What a silly thought that he couldn’t shake away. Through his quickly blurring vision, he swore he could make out a pair of fancy dress shoes a little bit behind the girl. He saw the girl drop to her knees and cover her ears, his vision went black and the sound of static accompanied the darkness.
---
Jack was expecting to be dead. He expected to be accompanied by beautiful white light, maybe an angel or something. However, it caught him very off guard when he suddenly awoke in a rather plush bed. He threw the plaid covers off himself unceremoniously and moved to swing his legs over the side of the bed. The baby god never got far because he let out a howl of pain as a sharp sensation traveled up his thigh. Shit right, his entire upper thigh was practically ripped open. He forgot all about that, glancing down at his wound he noticed it was wrapped tightly in medical bandages and he assumed it was stitched up underneath the dressings. Whoever fixed the wound seemed to have done at least a semi-decent job, at least he wasn’t dead. Sniffing the air with his newly acquired sense of smell he could make out the distinct smell of humans and...was that lavender?
Jack felt his stomach growl and he doubled over clutching it. They smelled delicious. He could practically hear their organs singing out to him, rip open the human, steal us, devour us.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by the door opening, in the middle of the doorway stood the exact girl he’d seen in the forest. Immediately going on the defense he bared his teeth opening his jaw as wide as he could, he heard the popping sound of his jaw as it extended, he felt something swirl around in his mouth. He felt a chill run down his spine at the unwelcomed sensation.
Did he have more than one tongue?
Shaking the thought away Jack didn’t move to attack, he was never the type. He would always rather listen to rationality before getting his hands dirty, the only issue was he was starving and the girl would absolutely make a fine meal.
“Don’t try demon.” The girl scoffed eyeing Jack up and down, if he was still his old college self he would’ve gotten flustered at the gesture. A girl showing him attention? Unheard of back them. However, after Jenny, he was almost positive he’d never let that happen again. His sockets looked down at what the girl held in her hands, it was a plate, a plate that had kidneys on top of it. He was only mildly aware of the fact that he was drooling all over himself. “Oh gross.” She scrunched up her nose placing the organs on the bottom of the bed.
Without hesitation, Jack attacked the cold meat shoving it in his mouth with vigor. He knew blood was all over his face and hands but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Jack knew the girl’s calculated eyes were watching his every move, even so, he couldn’t help but let out a groan of pleasure as the food slid down his throat. Once the meal was finished and Jack was satisfied he finally felt he had enough strength to start asking questions.
“Who are you?” He rasped, whipping his mouth with the back of what was left of his sleeve.
“Really? You’re asking ME that question.”
“I’m not a fan of your attitude.”
“I’m not a fan of you bleeding out on my property.”
Jack growled low and guttural.
“Don’t make me hurt you.” The girl had the audacity to laugh in his face was she not aware of what he was capable of now?
“Nice try but I’m not scared of you. You’re not allowed to hurt me as long as you’re under my care.” She pointed to herself with her thumb, puffing out her chest a little however he could hear her pulse increase just the slightest bit.
Jack only scowled.
“What pray tell is exactly stopping me?” He raised an eyebrow watching carefully as the girl lifted up her sleeve to her sweater. Scared into her wrist was a symbol that Jack had never seen before in his life, but for some unknown reason, he felt dread wash over him. Carved into her wrist was an O with an X slashed through it. “What’s that supposed to prove exactly? That you’re into weird tattoos?”
The (h/c)-ette let out a loud sigh like this conversation was boring her. Oh he’s sorry it’s not his fault he was turned into a fucking organ-eating monster by a cult at his local college! If he still had his eyes they would be rolling so far back into his skull, yet he still waited for the girl to explain.
“My name is (y/n), I’m a medical proxy under The Operator. Currently one of the only ones he has left because we keep getting killed off by rogue killers.” The girl, (y/n), clicked her tongue in clear distaste at the mention of said killers. “Since I’m under The Operator it means if you kill me, he’ll kill you, that’s the deal Jacky boy.” That put him on high alert.
“How the fuck do you know my name?”
“You’re certainly full of questions for someone just waking up out of a coma. If you must know The Operator gave me a brief rundown of your file after we found you in the woods.” (Y/n) crossed her arms over her chest “It’s your lucky day because you just got hired to work for him.” She gave him a round of applause, but it sounded more mocking than serious and he only grew more confused.
“This doesn't make any sense to me. I hope you’re aware.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. It’ll all be explained in due time. For now, all you have to focus on is getting better so you can begin your training. Lucky for you, I’m your registered nurse and caregiver, so enjoy your stay at castle de la (Y/n). Trust me when I say you should value your time here while you still have it.” A thousand more questions ran through Jack’s mind and his little question and answer session with his self-proclaimed nurse didn’t really help.
“So you’re a med student then?” She made a noise of affirmation picking at the strings of her sweater.
“Was a med student Jack, that pretty much came to a screeching halt after I was scouted by the boss man. That, however,” He watched as (Y/n) put a hand to her lips signaling him to stop asking questions, “Is a story for another day. The first order of business now that you’ve eaten is a shower. Cause no offense but you smell like dried blood, and coming from me that’s saying something cause I smell blood all the time.”
Jack still didn’t trust this stranger fully and it got under his skin that she seemed to know everything about him and he knew next to nothing about her. Yet, a shower did seem nice at this moment, he glanced down at his hands and noticed his nails were caked with dry blood. He could only imagine what every other part of his body looked like, (y/n) clearly didn’t bother cleaning him up aside from dressing his wounds.
“A shower sounds good.” Jack nodded in confirmation and the girl gave a relieved smile.
“Oh thank God you agreed, it took me a week of convincing to get Jeff to go take his first shower.” Jack decided it was best not to ask who Jeff was deciding that that was a can of worms he shouldn’t open just yet. She reached out to touch him and he immediately recoiled back almost biting her handoff, the smile that appeared disappeared into a frown.
“Don’t touch me.” Memories of Jenny’s friends holding him down while he pleaded for his life flashed across his mind. The blade coming closer and closer to Jack’s crystal blue eyes before making contact and-
“Alright, cannibal boy snap out of it. Can’t have you succumbing to blood lust just yet. You don’t wanna injure yourself more.” (Y/n) snapped her fingers next to his ears and he couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that she snapped him out of his stupor. “I was going to help you to the bathroom because you really shouldn’t put pressure on your leg. Is that okay?”
Jack felt himself nodding reluctantly. She was right, he really shouldn’t put stress on his leg or it could cause more harm than good. Especially since he didn’t know the extent of the injury yet, for all he knew he was lucky they didn’t hit the femoral artery. Her arms went around his waist as the god and the human girl hobbled to the bathroom together. On the short walk there Jack was trying to get a feel of the house, in case he needed to make a grand escape in the future.
“I’ll put some fresh clothes outside the door for you, call for me when you’re done so I can help you back to the bedroom.” (Y/n) explained as Jack hobbled into the bathroom, he didn’t feel the need to respond to her as he shut the door in her face. He heard a faint click of a tongue from the other side of the door and listened to the girls retreating footsteps.
Jack leaned against the sink putting most of his weight on his hands. The sink creaked at the newfound pressure and Jack wasn’t sure it was because it was an old house or because he had newfound strength. He glanced up at the mirror, it was weird somewhat seeing when you had absolutely no eyes. It was the first time since the incident he got a good look at himself, he looked about as good as he felt.
Terrible.
His auburn hair curled around his now pointed ears and was caked in mud and dirt. He was almost grateful that (y/n) didn’t touch him aside from the wound while he was unconscious, Jack couldn’t imagine what he might’ve done if he felt anyone go near his face. Speaking of his face, he opened his mouth and saw his teeth were shaved into razor-sharp fangs. His stomach turned as he remembered the exact reason why they were like that, organs. They were like that so he could eat organs. The thought wasn’t nearly as nauseating as it should’ve been.
His skin was unnatural and sickly grey color, as he lifted up his shirt the color seemed to spread all the way down his body. He glanced down at his hands and saw his nails were long and black, almost like those girls who wore acrylics, except he was sure their nails couldn’t rip into people's chests with a single swipe. Continuing down his body he lifted up one of his padded feet, he was correct in his assumption from earlier. They were much more animal-like, he wondered if they made him faster, what purpose could they possibly serve other than that?
Gently letting his footfall back down on the floor he shuffled to the shower and turned it on, the water sprayed out in a burst and he patiently waited for it to heat up. Eventually, he was able to step inside, not before knocking his head not only against the curtain rod but also on the showerhead.
“Fuck!” He snarled glaring down at the showerhead. Jack did a little double-take, okay he was also super tall, at least he got one blessing out of whatever the fuck was happening. Jack had to kneel on the ground in order to let the water roll down his body, with a deep breath he enjoyed the warm water pelting his skin. He fumbled around with the shampoo trying to figure out how to open it without popping a hole in the container. As the lid popped open he was hit with the calming scent of lavender.
~~~
“We’ll send someone to come back and check on him in about a month give or take, see how he’s adjusting and healing.” A figure spoke from the kitchen shaking a cigarette into an ashtray, as (y/n) stood across from him. The man ran a hand through his messy brown hair “Then we’ll reassess him, give him a test and see if he’s fit to come to the mansion.” Meanwhile, the girl heaved a sigh of her own and leaned against the cool tiles of her kitchen wall.
“So it’s gonna be my responsibility to explain everything that’s happening to him? Isn’t that supposed to be your job Tim?” (y/n) raised an eyebrow “You realize he’s, like, almost seven feet tall, has no eyes and eats organs right? I’m not even sure WHAT he is.” She muttered, “The rundown I got really only gave me his background and his clear trauma.”
Tim clicked his tongue like the girl in front of him was wasting his time, it made her ball up her fists subconsciously.
God, the main proxies really got on her fucking nerves sometimes.
“You won’t have to worry about that, The Operator will handle all of that throughout the coming weeks. No need to worry. You also don’t need to worry about harvesting organs for him, and hopefully, once he’s healed he’ll work on doing that himself. But for now, someone on a kill close by will be dropping off organs.” Tim’s nose scrunched up a little and the (h/c)-nette’s did the same, she normally prided herself on her strong stomach, but this was a lot even for her. “The only thing you have to do is monitor his eating, see how much he will need on a weekly basis, and obviously keep him alive.”
“Obviously.” They both seemed to have a mutual understanding about that at least, she fucks up and he dies they’re both in deep shit with The Operator. Tim reached to the side where his porcelain mask sat against the countertop.
“Don’t fuck it up.” He pointed to her before slipping out the door leaving the women alone with an organ-eating monster. (Y/n) mimicked ‘don’t fuck it up' in a nasal voice before kicking off the wall and heading back in the direction of her guest's room, she pulled out a pair of crutches from the closet and rested them by the bedside. She gently scratched at the faintly buzzing symbol on her wrist, this is going to be a long month.
#creepypasta x you#creepypasta x reader#x reader#x you#x y/n#eyeless jack x reader#eyeless jack x you#proxies#proxy reader#horror#fanfic#ej x reader#ej x you
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