#so they never told me to worry about my weight unless i lost some due to illness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thedeluluverse · 1 year

Text

First time doing a crossover/multi-fandom fic, I was so nervous throughout writing this, but I hope it’s decent! Obviously, no hate towards Jimin-ssi, ult is BTS just a fun idea I had inspired by the song “Boyfriend” by Dove Cameron.

Summary: Despite the love you have for your boyfriend, you can’t help but feel invisible at this party. He would rather play games but all you want is to feel seen. Will your wish come true?

Pairing: idol!Jimin x curvy!freader x idol!LeeMinho

Genre: idol!au, angst, fluff, mentions of smut-related topics, acquaintances to lovers, secret mutual pining, crossover, hurt/comfort, songfic, oneshot, RPF, toxic relationship, neglected partner, slight slow burn

Word Count: 4,148.

Warnings:. swearing, angst, toxic/strained relationship, feeling neglected, jealousy, manipulation, guilt, crying, mention of sex, illusions to cheating, gambling, reader is made to feel insecure about their weight, slight bullying due to weight, lack of self worth, gaslighting.

Six months ago, you started dating one of the most talked about K-pop idols, Park Jimin. You met him at a fan sign event for his new solo album 'Face' and hit it off immediately! However, it was still quite shocking when he slipped you his phone number and said he couldn't wait to see you again upon that first meeting. Chalking it up to fate, you texted him later that night.

Y/N: "Hey, it's y/n from the fan sign earlier today. This seems surreal, but I wanted to message you before I lost my nerve. It's late, so I hope I didn't wake you, talk to you later!”

Not even a full minute later, your phone buzzes with a flurry of new text messages from none other than Jimin himself.

PJ: "Hey there, y/n! I'm so glad you messaged me so quickly! You were so beautiful; I just had to get to know you more! Are you free to grab some boba and hang in the park tomorrow?”

Staring at your phone for what feels like 5 whole minutes (it was 30 seconds, calm down, drama queen, lol). You shakily manage to compose a reply.

Y/N: "Oh my, you got me blushing, Mr. Park! Lucky for you, I'm available all day tomorrow! Where should I meet you?”

PJ: "Don't worry about a thing! Just send me your address, and I'll pick you up myself! I am getting rather sleepy, but I will text you the details in the morning, cutie 😉”

Y/N: "Sounds like a plan; get some rest!"

In the beginning, at least for the first 2 weeks, he was a perfect gentleman and doted on you hand and foot. Until his first visit at your place, you cooked him dinner, and everything was magical! This led to quite an intense make-out session on your couch; once y'all took a break to breathe, he says

PJ: *raising an eyebrow and smirking* “Shall we move this to the bedroom?”

Y/N: *bites lip and looks down while fidgeting with your fingers* “I…um..thing is..”

PJ: *confused* "What is it, y/n? I'll be gentle, don't worry, unless told otherwise."

Y/N: "It's not that; I…ugh, here goes. I didn't know how to bring this up before, but I'm a...still a virgin..”

PJ: *processing* "Oh well, that's no problem! I mean, what better first time than with myself?! We can go slowly, and don't worry, I’ll make this night as memorable for you as it is for me” *lust clouds his eyes*

Y/N: “I wasn’t done…

PJ: "Well, c’mon then, someone is eager to meet you” *glances down at his bulge, growing with the thought of how tight you must be and how lucky you are. *

Y/N: *slightly frowning, not liking the vibes* "That's the thing, I want to wait a bit longer before we take that step. I have no doubt that you know what you're doing, and I want to, trust me… just... not tonight. I know that feelings will be intense after, and I don't want to just be a quick fuck, and then you move on and never speak to me again. I don't see you as that type, but you are an idol, after all, with girls throwing themselves at you constantly. You can understand where I’m coming from…right?”

PJ: “Wow, y/n… I thought you trusted me... I'm not that kinda guy. What the fuck??!! Well, I’m just gonna go since I’m so sleazy” *hurriedly puts shirt and shoes back on and grabs his keys*

Y/N: *prancing behind him, trying to stop him* "Wait, no!!!! That's not what I meant. I promise, come back. I have dessert...”

PJ: *ignores you until he starts his car* "Just let me cool off, y/n. It's messed up for you to get me all riled up and not put out. I need to mull some things over. I'll talk to you later…maybe."

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch him drive away, nauseated with worry that you may have just lost your one chance with one of your long-time biases. After multiple failed calls and unread texts, you fall asleep, exhausted from the constant sobs since he left. The next day, you sleep until noon, grateful you don't have work until 5. Eyes still blurry with sleep and post-cry puffiness, you check your phone to see no responses from your (ex?) boyfriend, Jimin. Heavy-hearted, you shower and get ready for work, unable to eat anything due to the dread in your heart. The shift is relatively slow at the coffee shop you work at, which does no good for your preoccupied mind repeating, "If he would just contact me, I'm sure we could work this out…." As if summoned, in strolls Mr. Park in all black, including his baseball cap; barely lifting his head, he gives his order avoiding eye contact. He occupies a corner of the café at a perfect angle to keep an eye on you while also blending in with the shadows so as not to be disturbed. As you clock out, you see him get up and head toward the door. Determined not to miss this chance, you jog after him as he gets to his car.

Y/N: “Hey! What gives? Did you yeet your phone to Hawaii as soon as you left? And then what’s with coming silently stalk me at work?? I had to lie to my boss and say you were a secret shopper observing the shift so you wouldn’t get kicked out for loitering.”

PJ: *scoffs and rolls his eyes* "Oh, I'm the problem here? You really are naïve, aren't you? You can't just do things like that to a guy. It was painful hence my reaction last night. I came here to ensure you were physically alright because your messages worried me last night."

He may be a jerk, but he had a point. You were naïve. Evidenced by his "being worried about you" being enough to melt any negativity you still had toward him.

Y/N: *lip quivering* "You…you were worried about me??? I'm so sorry; I was worried about nothing. You're so sweet. If you can be patient, I promise I'll be the best girlfriend ever!”

PJ: *his gaze darkens, knowing his plan worked, then switches to comfort mode* “Aww honey, of course, I was worried! I care about you! Now, what do you say we go grab some ramen and watch a movie, huh?" *Brushes a tear off your cheek with his thumb and gives a quick peck on your nose*

Things are on the mend until you see a tabloid cover 2 days later with him in the outfit from that fateful night he stormed out, surrounded by girls at a club. You confront him, but it's useless as he knows exactly what to say to soften you up and make it seem like he was just a victim of circumstance or was picking up a friend and got swarmed when they used the bathroom. Over time, you believe him less and less, but you stay with him because of your feelings for him and not wanting to seem like the bad guy anymore. After that night at the café, you compromised and agreed to exchange oral frequently. Still, it is to the point where with all of the rumors you hear and headlines you see about him with girls much thinner than you (which he makes sure to point out), you are never letting this dude anywhere near your pussy, even with his tongue. As a matter of fact, it's been about 4 and ½ months since anything but yourself has made you cum.

Having been cooped up in the house or work for months due to his “overprotectiveness” (a.k.a. making sure you aren’t going to catch him in the act or meet anybody actually decent), you jump with joy when he tells you about this colossal idol party, they are throwing this weekend with any group you can think of in the industry. Keep in mind he doesn't actually invite you. He only mentions it and says, “I mean, you can come if you want, I guess…" when you ask if you can accompany him. You both know he does not intend to stay by your side, but you don't even care. You need a night out around different people and scenery, plus it gives you a chance to wear that cute little dress you bought 3 months ago for your anniversary but never got to wear since he had to "work late"; yet came home with hickeys right as you were headed to bed.

As predicted, no sooner have y'all gotten checked in, and he is already antsy to leave your side. He quickly grabs and downs 2 glasses of champagne for himself, then looks you up and down and remarks.

PJ: "Damn baby, you look so fucking good…."

Y/N: *slightly blushes as it’s been a while since he’s complimented you* “Oh yeah? I’m glad it finally got to see outside of my closet” *giggling ensues with both of you*

PJ: *catches his breath and smirks* “Think tonight is finally the night?”

Y/N: *immediately stiffens* "I mean, I'll let you know, but not sure right now…."

PJ: *sighs* “Ugh, whatever. I’ll catch you later”.

Y/N; *feeling deflated, you catch a chill* “Wait!!”

PJ: *turns around exasperatedly* "What now???? I'm a very busy man, y/n."

Y/N: *thinks 'yeah, busy cheating'* "I'm chilly. Can I borrow your jacket? *thinks 'you seem to like taking your clothes off anyway’*

PJ: *cackles making a few heads turn* "You must be joking. Did your eyesight get worse? No way I’m letting you stretch out and ruin this custom piece. Why don’t you dance? That way, you'll warm up AAANNNDD burn calories" *walks away snickering*

Tears threatening to fall, you rush to the bathroom to salvage your makeup and gain your composure, all while simultaneously cursing him and believing he has a good point. Poor gaslit y/n!! After a few minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, and his all-too-familiar laugh draws your eyes to the gambling section of the party. You know he can afford it, but that doesn't change the fact that he seems to care more about winning than he ever did about you. Feeling invisible, you sit on one of the luxurious couches on the quieter side of the room. You scroll through the apps on your phone with one hand while the other is wrapped around your elbow, trying to warm up. You hold your head in your hands because you are actually considering taking his advice and dancing since you're about 5 minutes from becoming an icicle.

Suddenly, you feel fabric hit your leg. Snapping your head up, ready to chew out whoever is inconsiderate enough to not give you space, you are met with the kindest pair of brown eyes holding out a jacket to you. Furrowing your brows, you clear your throat and ask.

Y/N: *slowly standing up* “I… is Lee Minho really offering his coat to m..me?”

LM: *chuckles at your adorably flustered state while rubbing his neck with his other hand* “I mean, that’s my name last I checked, and I am not holding a ghost corpse so, I'd say you're right, y/n."

Y/N: *looking like you HAVE just seen a ghost* “Wait. How do you know who I am?!” *Legs threatening to give out*

LM: *wraps jacket around your shoulders with room to spare, then holding your hand as he sits back down with you* “I mean, for one, you’re almost as famous as I am. Disregarding dating an idol, the commercial for your photography studio has taken off! Second, you are many idols' favorite fans with your respect and thoughtfulness levels. Thirdly, you are easily the most beautiful girl here. How could I not be drawn to you?!” *Shyly smiles and looks down*

Y/N: *face has been a tomato since the jacket touched your skin* “I... I don’t know how to respond to any of that, but I appreciate all of it so much! *Dimple appears*

LM: *tucks your hair behind your ear, admiring your smile* "All I ask is that you believe everything I said is true. Just one question, and I don’t mean to pry… where is that boyfriend of yours? I don’t mean to offend, just... It’s bad form to leave your girl alone at a party, much less shivering too."

Y/N: *scoffs, rolls eyes, and waves hand in the general direction of gambler's corner*

LM: *purses lips in anger* Ah...I see…Well, I’m kind of bored and was headed to grab a snack and figured it only polite to see if you wanted me to grab you an appetizer platter, too, when I saw you freezing over here.”

Y/N: “Sadly, I'll have to decline. I've been trying to stick to this diet to look like I belong to this industry. Thanks though!”

LM: "Nonsense. You are gorgeous, and your talent makes you a part of this world, not your dress size. If anyone says or implies otherwise, they’re an idiot and I’ll be more than happy to relay that message to them as well… can’t promise it won't be with a fist, but…anyway, I'll be right back, okay?"

Y/N: *nodding and grinning ear to ear while you wait*

LM: *returns with hella snacks* "I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I just got a variety to be safe.”

Y/N: “You're such a sweetheart, even though you just threatened to fight people." *You chuckle*

LM: *raises an eyebrow and turns to face you* “Oh, it’s not a threat. I can’t stand people who think like that or treat people like shit because of their fucked-up mentality. Especially someone as amazing as you. Let me know if you know anyone who needs a knuckle sandwich, okay, pretty?" *Places a gentle hand on your knee*

Y/N: *you feel butterflies for the first time in months* “I’ll keep that in mind. But…what if...oh, never mind...”

LM: *grabs your hand, looking into your eyes* "What is it? You can say anything to me, I got you.”

Y/N: *holding back tears, feeling safer than ever* "Well, I was gonna say I'd make a sandwich order, but not sure my boyfriend would appreciate that since he would be on the receiving end" *you lightly chuckle and look away, realizing how unhappy you are*

LM: *abruptly stands up with clenched fists* “Wait are you saying…. he rea...really gives you shit about how you look?? Is he fucking blind?! That's alright; lucky for him, we have a combo special." * He says as he rolls up his sleeves*

Y/N: *eyes widen as you bolt up and lay a gentle hand on his forearm* "No, really, it's okay; he does have a point. I just am having a bad night. Please, let it go for me." * You knew it was a risk pulling that card, having just met Minho, but you could tell there was more he wasn’t telling you about how he knew you*

LM: *intensely exhales and unfurls fists* “Let’s get something straight. The only reason I am not putting that dude in the hospital is on your behalf. OOOOHHH, the things I want to say to that weasel!! *Sits back down, taking both of your hands in his* “Sorry, I'm calm now. I'm not trying to freak you out, but I must be honest…."

Y/N: *leans head to the side* "What's on your mind? If I can be candid with you, it goes both ways, okay, Rocky?" *Stifling a laugh, but your eyes are shining with joy*

LM: *raises an eyebrow" "Rocky? That's a new one, haha; you're cute. Oh, right, my point! *facepalms* “SOOO, the ways I knew you earlier are all completely true; but there’s something else. Did you go to our concert about a year ago?”

Y/N: “I..uh..yeah, actually…how'd you know?"

LM: *twiddles thumbs* “See, the thing is, I've been trying to find you since then, but like not in a stalker way. Ugh, I'm messing this all up. Okay, let me rewind. We were performing 'Taste,' and I saw this radiant Stay holding up a sign that said, ‘I’m looking to adopt a kitt-ten if you need a MinHOE.' It caught my eye right at the beginning, and I couldn't help but laugh as my part began. It was adorable and funny, plus the owner was stunning, so I'll admit I was flustered."

Y/N: *soul leaves body* “Wait…I caused that chuckle?? You not only saw my sign but liked it???”

LM: “I loved it; super creative, honestly! So, I was in the back changing for the ‘Case 143' performance, and I couldn't stop blabbering about it to the rest of the guys. I knew I stood no chance against your charms when I saw the perma-grin on your face and damn near perfect choreography to the song. I tried to get your attention before you left, but you didn't see me. Ever since I've been hoping to get a chance to meet that magnificent girl again. And here we are!”

Y/N: *staring into space, processing what he said* "I... You…wanted to find me?? From a goofy sign?? I'll admit that you were more of a bias than Jimin. But...what now? I can’t just leave with your fairytale ass; I am not single, y/n, that I was a year ago when I made that sign. Thanks for the jacket, snacks, and honesty Min, but I gotta get going."

LM: *stands up before you and extends his hand to you, helping you stand* "I understand and respect where you're coming from. If you ever change your mind or want to order that combo, let me know, okay? It made my year just meeting you and getting that off my chest.” *Turns to help you find the way out while hiding the mixed emotion tears accumulating on his waterline*

Y/N: *checks phone and sees a message from Jimin saying he’s going to an afterparty and not to wait up* *chuckles incredulously while looking at the ceiling, stopping dead in your tracks*

LM: "Is everything okay, y/n?"

Y/N: *shows him the message* “I hate to ask this, but could you give me a lift back to my apartment? I know nobody else here, and no Ubers will be near here. I completely get; if not, I can try to see if his driver will pick up I ju…."

LM: “No no problem at all! I was going to offer, actually. Do you actually want to leave right now, or were you because of him?”

Y/N: “You know what? I think I want to dance. Because I want nothing else, I promise, but if you're ready to go, let me know!"

LM: *holds out his hand* "I have all the time in the world for you, darling. If you don't think my company is unethical, Ms. Not Single." *smirking*

Y/N: *gives the sassiest look ever* "Ha…ha, sir. Plus, the heat made me talk out of my head because I don’t think I’ve had a boyfriend in months.” *Raises a flirty eyebrow* (idk just go with it, y'all XD)

LM: *picks you up and spins you with glee* "THANK FUCK! I would've respected your decision to stay with him, but I am glad you didn't… why did your change suddenly? Not that I'm complaining AT ALL, just wondering what is going on in that pretty head of yours”.

Y/N: *wraps arms around his neck as ‘Slow Motion’ by AMARIA BB plays* “Well, I may have met someone tonight who helped pressure wash the brainwashing and gaslighting away and helped me see my worth in just a few sentences. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel genuinely good about them. I just hope I can get the courage to ask them out soon...” *looks down, nervous as hell*

LM: *can't help but give the biggest grin ever grinned* "I'd say your odds are excellent. They seem very gentlemanly and would gladly let you wear their clothes that are adorably baggy on you anytime. Also, would never have left you alone on your phone while dancing is an option or make you feel like you have to starve yourself to be worthy of love. Generally, feel like they’d do anything and everything for you. Not only because you more than deserve it but to show you that not every guy at this level is a douche.

Y/N: *butterflies return with a vengeance as the song’10:35’ comes on, and your back meets his firm chest as his strong hands find your voluptuous curves* "Well, in that case, I think I hit the jackpot, hehe, sorry I couldn't help it. It's true plus ironic given my ex’s, god, that feels good to say out loud, obsession with gambling. *Turns and hides face in his chest as y'all sway, and he kisses the top of your head*

LM: *smiles while tilting your chin up with his finger* “He may have been a gambler, but he can’t be that good if he didn’t bet on me finding you and you eventually realizing you deserve better."

Y/N: *stifles a laugh* “You did NOT just make a gambling pun… I loved it! He never appreciated my jokes…."

LM: "Well, you no longer have to worry about that. I'm here for all the jokes, whether good or bad. You can tell me anything, and I'll be open-minded, okay?” *Song ends, so he guides you to the couch again by his hand on the small of your back*

Y/N: *palms get clammy getting flashbacks to the disagreement that started it all*

LM: *notices immediately and cups your face with his hands* "Hey, hey, you, okay? What's going on, hun? Talk to me, please."

Y/N: *takes a deep breath and recounts story* "I didn't wanna drop that on you, right away, but I guess it’s better for you to know earlier so I don’t disappoint you too…tonight’s been really fun, but I understand if you bring me back home, and that's it."

LM: *pulls you into the warmest hug ever and strokes the back of your head down your back* “Oh sweetheart, if that’s enough to scare someone off, that’s their issue. I completely understand where you're coming from, and honestly, I'm proud of you for standing your ground. Also, I’m glad that selfish prick wasn’t your first glimpse into the world of sex cuz…yeesh…."

Y/N: "Honestly, same." *cackles* "I will say, while I can't promise a timeline, I feel like it won't take as long for me to be comfortable with the idea this time. *Instantly blushes*

LM: *kisses your forehead* "How do you look so sweet, yet that look in your eye is giving succubus? Anyways... I will wait however long you need to make sure you are truly ready, okay? Just let me know when you want things and what you want, alright princess?”

Y/N: *is too shook to be coy* “Wha..what did you just say??”

LM: *plays dumb* “Which part? The sweet yet succubus part confused you?”

Y/N: *both get up to leave* “Now you know damn well that wasn’t the part… to that point, however, … I dunno guess I'm just the perfect balance of everything." *Flips hair*

LM: *smiles at the newfound confidence and quietly catches up to her* “I guess that must be it.” *Puts coat on her*

Y/N: *is speechless and just grins, taking in the scent from his coat*

LM: “As for the ‘princess’ comment, I figured it only fair since you called me sir...*snakes hand around your waist*

Y/N: “I didn’t mean like th...oh, who am I kidding? I may have thrown it out there to gauge your reaction for future reference, science, or whatever…but I figured it flew over your head, or you didn't like it since you said nothing until now, haha! Is..is it bad that I did that?"

LM: *gently but firmly pulls her closer as they approach the car* “Hmm…" *opens the door and lets her get settled in the car as he starts it up* “I don’t mind that you called me that if that’s what you’re asking.”

Y/N: "Oh, thank god I was so nervous!"

LM: “I mean, it wasn’t bad in the dislike way. It may have been dangerous because it only made the desire to kiss you tenfold, so only that kind of bad did you summon.” *Smirks but keeps fiddling with the car’s settings and setting up music*

Y/N: *bites lip* “I mean… all I’ll say is you aren’t alone in that feeling...”

LM: *undoes seatbelt and leans over with superspeed and breathily says* “Thank goodness” *gently grips the underside of your chin with one hand, pulling you towards him as your hands roam into his hair, kissing with more love than you've ever felt*

THE END

10 notes · View notes

palbabor-writes · 3 years

Text

Practicum

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+ only, unbalanced/unhealthy relationships, student/teacher sex, tw.dubcon, tw.sub/dom dynamics, brat taming, fingering, masturbation, a table is pretty roughed up in this, so pls hold a brief moment of silence for it

Words: 12,857

“So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And...answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

You bite at your lip again and pass your gaze from his amused expression to the bland cover of the textbook, debating your next move, trying to walk yourself through all the ups and downs. It’s too simple; too easy. It’s not like him. He’s got something else in mind, why else would he fucking look like that? It’s not a bad look. No, it’s a look that makes your stomach flip and head spin.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Notes: the title was selected because it’s got the word cum in it. ahhh, the things that crack me up. anyhow.

this is part of the BNHA Degeneracy server’s 9 to 5 collaboration! i had a ton of fun participating in this and thank you guys for making this so freaking awesome! special shoutout & thanks to @albinoburrito & @kugutsuu for their beta edits! this was a departure from what i usually write about and i appreciate all of your notes and help!

Practicum prac·ti·cum /ˈpraktəkəm/ noun a practical section of a course of study

It’s your senior year, they said. Live a little, they advised. Stop and take a breather, you’re practically home free! Take some easier classes. Focus on what’s in front of you, it’ll be over before you know it! On and on and on.

Spring semester is almost here. You’ve applied for graduation, the cap and gown ordered, and you have a shiny class ring sitting on your pinky. It’s in the bag. Just breeze through four more classes and you’re out. Well, it would be an easy shot, if you hadn’t put off this one class.

It always popped up, so it’s not like you could plead ignorance. Your advisor warned you, each quarterly meeting, that you needed to get it out of the way. Take it seriously, he cautioned, clacking out his notes, typing down that you’d failed to heed his sage advice, again. If you wait too long, you’re not going to get the professor that you want.

That was the other problem. You’re a procrastination superstar. If there was some kinda award for putting off assignments, you’d have won it ten times over. You liked the heart pounding race to the deadline, the sleepy boasts that you’d tackled the project within hours of its due date.

It’s a stupid habit. Every semester you promise yourself that you’ll do better. You won’t wait, you’ll tackle things one assignment at a time and turn them before the hard cut off at 11:59 pm. Who the fuck did you think you were kidding? Certainly not your friends, or your advisor. He could read you like a book. Hell, he’d even sent warnings.

‘Don’t forget about the deadline for senior registration!’

‘You don’t want to be on a waitlist. You especially don’t want to take one of the harder professors. These are freshman level classes, they’re designed to flunk undergrads. Don’t forget (Y/N), chew them up and spit them out tactics are employed.’

But you had. You’d set an alarm on your phone, then neglected to give it a title, so you’d only chuckled and smacked the chirping into silence that morning, snoozing the all important deadline away.

Fuck.

Most of the classes for biology are wait-listed. No, scratch that, all the classes for Intro to Genetic Biology are wait-listed. You opt into the waitlist for all of them, just in case, and a week later your phone alerts you that one has an open seat. Actually, it has several open seats, too many open seats to be natural. However, you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so for now, you’re enrolled in BIO 1208: Principles of Cell and Organismal Physiology - For Non-Science majors.

Perfect.

Yeah, no. You’d looked up the professor, since the whole open seat thing was still giving you the heebie-jeebies, and your heart dropped. You’ve heard of him, most of the student body has. His classes are notoriously small. Not because the university limited them, or planned for smaller class sizes. No, his classes are tiny because he is infamous for failing students.

Most, when they realize they’re scheduled for his bio classes, frantically drop, taking the withdrawal and praying for better luck next semester. Others, brave souls who think they can come out unscathed, attempt to grit their teeth and push through. But, by midterms, they’re war torn and haggard, shaking their heads and praying for a ‘C’, at best. Fewer still, pass.

This pedagogy isn’t a sign of good teaching; quite the opposite, in fact. You don’t want your student body failing. Yet, year after year, Professor Tomura Shigaraki keeps teaching the same Intro to Bio class. It boggles the mind, but you’ve never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

When you’d received the notification that you’re enrolled in the B section and spied the name Shigaraki under the professor listing, you’d scarfed down your suddenly flavorless lunch and dashed up the steps to the student advising hall, praying there was some way you could wiggle your way out of this growing disaster.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to take it earlier and to take it in the fall when there are more freshman level classes available. I swear I said that to you. And, AND, I even sent you emails, several times if my sent inbox is to be believed, to NOT forget when senior registration ends.”

Your advisor is peeved. You don’t blame him. He’s right, this is your fault, but there’s gotta be some kinda loophole. Something, fuck, anything, that can pull you from this mess.

“I know, I know! I’m so sorry. You’re right. But, I mean, can’t I just hold off for another week? See if the waitlist clears?”

The man that you’ve known for four years, that’s seen you progress from freshman to senior, steeples his long fingers and purses his lips, likely debating on a tactful scolding, or a firm rebuttal. He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but sink into the soft cushioning of the chair, your nose wrinkled and brow furrowed, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“Do you know how many students we require to take BIO 1208?”

“No,” you gulp, nibbling on your lower lip nervously.

“Over 7,000. Do you want to hear the statistics that would need to shake out in your favor for you to miraculously avoid taking this specific class? Nothing is going to open for you, it is this class, or no class.”

You sigh, and your advisor nods, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Well then, I suggest you brush up on your study skills. Find a classmate that you can compare notes with, join a study group, go to the student union and ask for a tutor. I would hate to see you back here for the summer semester. You’re scheduled to walk the stage this spring and you’ve worked hard for this, so don’t fuck it up, okay?”

You’ve attended this university for four years, but the first day of term always gives you the jitters. It doesn’t matter that you know your way around, or that you know ten professors by name, and bump into several friends on the way to your next building, you’re always buried in your phone, checking and double checking the next class’ room number.

Despite all that caution, you’re lost.

In your defense, it’s your first time stepping foot in the Graduate & Research building and the whole concrete block is a fucking maze. There must be a basement because the numbers don’t match up with the floors and they seem to jumble further every time you round a corner. Like what the hell? How can this next room be GR 3.03.05 when this is clearly only the second floor and GR 2.03.11 was right down that other hallway?

Exasperated, you lean against the nearest wall and tug your phone out again. Shit. Class started ten minutes ago.

Part of you wants to call it a day, end the search here and try again on Wednesday. Maybe take a few extra minutes to scout out the building next time and have some idea of where you’re going before the start of class.

Ugh, why is this so stressful?

It’s the first day of classes. Surely Professor Shigaraki won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late; besides, if you’re lost, others must be too.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and resume the hunt. Two hallway turns later, you find your mark.

Your hand pauses beside the heavy wood, and you take a steadying breath. Again, why are you so nervous? Just go in and take a seat, it’s easy, stop freaking out over nothing.

The door groans open, hinges protesting the sharp push, and you stumble into a darkened room. The low glow of the projector doesn’t help your blurry vision. Ah, shit, it’s one of those older rooms, so it’s built like a bad movie theater. Oh well, better get to a seat before he spots you.

Swiftly, you make your way toward the raised steps of the aisle and the second row of chairs, plopping into the first one you reach that’s empty. You’re too busy fiddling with the zipper of your backpack to notice that the speaker has stopped his rasping preamble, but as you pull your laptop out the ominous weight of that heavy silence hits you and you toss a hooded stare toward the front of the lecture hall.

Immediately, your eyes land on the professor’s and you feel a low shiver shake up your spine.

He’s watching you.

The gleam of the overhead projector makes his red eyes flash, and he openly scowls at your gaping expression, his lips curling into a dark sneer.

“Well, thank you for joining us, Miss…?”

He’s waiting for your response and you squeak out your last name, mindlessly rubbing your moistening palms against your thin skirt.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N). Now that you’ve graced the class with your belated presence, may I continue?”

“Uh,” you gasp out, your mouth dry, tongue sticking to your teeth, “I’m sorry. I got–”

“I didn’t ask for an explanation, or in your case, an excuse. Or are you now attempting to disrupt this class purposefully?”

“Wha– I-I’m–” your words stumble to a halt, voice failing under the intense glare that he’s giving you. “No,” you finish lamely, ducking your head, nails digging into your sweaty palms.

“Thank you. Do me a favor, stay after class.” His voice is gravel, threatening and low. You don’t like the edge in his tone. It makes your skin prickle and your knees knock. He sounds like the kind of guy that you don’t want to run into in a dark alleyway, or a classroom, for that matter. Even so, it’s not your fault, and despite your feelings of unease, you can’t tamp down your need to protest his unreasonableness.

“But, professor, I didn’t mean to–”

“If I need to repeat my insistence for silence, I’ll make things easier on both of us and fail you now.”

Stunned and fuming, you bite your tongue and lean back into your chair, crossing your arms and blinking back mounting tears of frustration. Great, just great. It’s the first fucking day of class and it looks like you’re already on his shit list. And for what? For being late on fucking syllabus day! What an ass.

You look over at him as you defiantly finish setting up your computer, hoping each pull of a zipper or screen reboot will grate under his stuck up skin. He’s not inordinately tall, or old. In fact, he looks like he might only be in early 30s. He has long white hair that’s pulled back into a low ponytail and, from what you can make out in the dim lighting, some kinda skin condition on his forehead. That, or he’s prematurely wrinkled, and let’s be honest, if he’s gone through life with that big of a stick up his ass, he deserves each and every pull on that mottled skin of his.

You linger in your seat when class is over, lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed. Finally, when the last student has left the room, professor Shigaraki flips a switch beside his elevated podium, filling the lecture hall with a sharp, fluorescent light. He pauses by his raised computer system and clicks off the overhead projector, blanketing the massive room in an uncomfortable silence.

“Since you missed the part of class where I go over the syllabus, I’ll give you a brief rundown. Under no circumstances will I tolerate tardiness. If you do it once more I’ll mark you absent and three absences knock you down a full letter grade.”

Glumly, you cross your arms and peer up at him, finally able to get a good look at his face. Your first observation was correct. His skin is sharper around his forehead, but his wavy white hair does a pretty decent job of covering up the imperfections. He has two scars: one nicks across his right eye and the other splits down his rough lips, parting the skin and granting him an even more foreboding appearance than his already gruff demeanor does. He’s dressed in a dark pair of jeans and he’s wearing a low slung v neck shirt. It’s a brilliant red and it brings out that otherworldly glint of his red eyes. Shit, you think bitterly, while he’s not conventionally handsome, he’s not exactly hard on the eyes either.

You shake your head against these unproductive musings and curtly snap out a clipped, ok.

“What was that?” Shigaraki scoffs, tilting his head at your sullen figure. “Speak up.”

“I said,” you bristle, eyes narrowing and chin lifting, “Okay, I apologize for interrupting your lecture, it won’t happen again. But, in my defense, if I’m allowed to do that in this class, I’ve never been in this building before, and it’s not like–”

“You’re a senior, right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Then you’ve had four years to figure out the layout of this university. The excuse of ‘being lost,’ isn’t an option for you. You know the buildings and you’re fully capable of turning up early to sort out the rooms.”

You let out a long sigh and look away, mumbling vague protests. This guy is ridiculous. You’re not a science major and it’s not your job to know the ins and outs of each building. How fucking stupid. Who does he think he–

“Speak up. I won’t ask you again.”

You bite your lip and look back at him but he’s moved in that distracted moment, silently stepping down from his raised platform and is now leaning over the first row of chairs, looming over you. You can’t help your sudden flinch as you sink further into your chair, away from him.

“If you’re gonna complain, Ms. (L/N), I’d much rather hear it. Don’t you think It’s rude for you to mutter under your breath about me? You don’t see me doing that to you.”

“Fine,” you blurt out, turning away from his insistent, and all too close, gaze. “I was saying that I’m not a science major. I get that I’m a senior, but you can’t seriously expect me to know every nook and cranny of this campus.”

“No, but I can ask for you to be a little more thoughtful. I put time and effort into my lessons and I won’t have you undermining them by bouncing in here with those legs and that flouncy little skirt.”

You’re about to counter his little haughty speech on politeness when you finally process that final comment he’d breathed out. Flabbergasted, you raise your head back to his, but he’s already moving away, snatching up his shoulder bag and waving you a curt goodbye as he presses open the squeaky door. “Next class is at 10 am sharp, so be on time Ms. (L/N).”

You’re still slumped in your seat when the door glides shut again, your eyes wide and jaw no doubt comically unhinged.

Wait. Did…did he really just say that?

Obviously, for the next class, you’re early. You’re so early that you’re the first one in the lecture hall. You select a seat toward the back and fiddle with your computer, checking your messages, adjusting your brightness, replying to old emails, anything to keep your head down and attention occupied.

The door opens and, despite your best efforts, your head flies up, expectant and tense, ready to meet those red eyes of his head on, to show him you’re here and he better… oh. It’s not him. It’s two chattering freshmen. One of them gives you a quick smile, but they both quickly take their seats, a few rows over, and continue their soft conversation, leaving you to fall back onto your earlier distraction tactics. You twiddle with your phone and shoot off a few texts, change your wallpaper, accidentally close an app you meant to leave open, and then the lecture hall door reopens.

He steps in slowly, completely ignoring you and the other scattered students, opting to sort out a few papers and set up his login on the school computer. The minutes tick by and you can’t seem to jerk your eyes away from him, suddenly fascinated by his languid movements. He looks more relaxed than he did on Monday, looser and fluid, completely in his element. True to his word, at ten am on the dot he begins class.

Professor Shigaraki has an interesting voice. It’s low, calculated, bordering on a rasp. It’s one of those tones that makes you want to lean forward and listen up, even though he’s only discussing cellular biology. Which isn’t exactly the sexiest topic for that shockingly dulcet timbre of his.

Wait. Sexy?

Your pen falters against your notebook, and your eyes drift up to his frame. He’s switched the lights off again and the shine of the overhead projector is the only illumination in the hall. His white hair gleams in the dim lighting and his long hands animatedly illustrate his points, elegant fingers opening and closing, gesticulating about the intricate nature of the human genome. You’re so focused on watching his movements that your elbow partner has to push the slip of paper onto your collapsible desktop. You blink at the sheet, your pen nearly clattering from your hand, and you twist to peer at the unfamiliar student beside you.

“It’s the attendance sheet and, um, I think you’re the last one,” they whisper, careful to lean away after they finish their explanation, not wanting to draw professor Shigaraki’s ire. You maneuver the paper under your pen and scribble down your name, biting your lip and silently berating yourself for your poor selection in seating. Great, now you’ll have to take the paper down to him after class. What if he talks with you again? Shit.

At 11:25, class ends. You collect your things and plod down the steps, the attendance sheet clutched between your fingers. He’s just snapping the projector light off when you reach his podium.

“I, uhh, have the attendance. You want me to just leave it here, or…”

“I’ll take it,” his hand is extended toward you and those red eyes are fixed on you now. It’s not the same disgruntled stare he’d given you on Monday. No, this look is a little more curious. Again, you’re taken aback by your reaction to him. He’s not even saying anything, just patiently waiting for you to deposit the sheet into his open palm, but there’s something about him that’s making your heart race.

Maybe it’s those eyes of his.

They are an unusual color and they have a strange intensity to them. Right as they narrow, the vermillion shining under the sharp lights; you press the paper to him and he pulls it from you, studying the names that are listed.

You want to say something. Maybe toss him a quick, friendly, goodbye. Or apologize for the other day? Ugh. What can you even say? ‘Gosh, so glad I was on time today! All that fascinating information about the genetic code! So glad to be here!’ No, that sounds stupid and a little patronizing. Besides, why do you want to talk with him at all? He’s an ass, remember?

“Did you need something?”

His question snaps you out of your stupor and you numbly shake your head at him, already lowering your gaze, but his exhaled chuckle makes you pause, your fingers curling around your backpack straps.

“I know I upset you the other day, but I appreciate you taking the effort to correct your mistake.”

“Oh,” you breathe, your eyes finding their way back to his. “Yeah, well, like you said, I’m a senior. Gotta take responsibility for myself someday.”

“Ah,” he smirks, that long scar on his lip quirking upward. “Seems like you’ve got some determination after all. You might be more interesting than I gave you credit for.”

“God,” you scoff, popping out a hip and crossing your arms at the bemused leer on his face. “Just come right out and say you think I’m a bad student, why don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” he amends, tucking the attendance sheet into his shoulder bag and snapping the clasps closed. “There’s plenty of time for you to end up right back at square one with me.”

He’s already halfway out the door by the time you right yourself from the shock of his last comment and you follow him, a string of low curses falling from your lips.

The spring semester always flies by, and before you realize it, a full month has bled away. You’ve kept that same seat in Shigaraki’s class and at the end of each session you head down to his little platform, attendance sheet outstretched. Each day of class has a different ebb and flow. Sometimes he chats with you and it’s gotten easier to talk with him, both of your eyes holding and lingering, lips raised into calculating smiles. Sometimes it almost feels like he’s flirting with you. Other days he only spares you a curt nod, his white hair curtaining his expression from your curious gaze. You’re not bothered by these silences, not when you’ve got your secret weapon.

The days that you like best, the ones that you plan, sorting through your closet until you’ve found the perfect choice, are the days when you wear one of your skirts. You’d even gone on some skirt shopping sprees as of late. On those days he doesn’t just make some sort of fleeting eye contact with you, no, on those days he stares.

At first, you’d tested out your theory, staggering your outfits, careful to not screw up your suspicions with a hasty miscalculation, but as they say, the third time’s the charm. How did he expect you not to notice? He never bothers to hide those sharp ogles and recently you’ve made a point of dramatically gathering your things when you wear these cute little ensembles, bopping down the steps so his eyes have to work to follow the line of your hips and the long paths of your bare legs. One rainy afternoon you’d worn over the knee stockings, that came to an abrupt halt over the plush skin of your upper thigh, under your mini skirt and he’d practically leapt over the podium to grab the sheet from you, his eyes hooded and dark, almost wild.

“Test, on Friday,” he warns, eyes finally rising to meet your bemused expression. “Don’t stay out too late tonight.”

“What makes you say that?” you ask, brushing at a rogue fold in your skirt, luring him back to your legs.

He scoffs at you, that jagged scar arching into a smirk. “Humph. You’re dressed up. Most of the students just wear the sweats, or pjs, and call it a day.”

“I like to put a little effort in all that I do,” you retort, grinning up at his vermillion stare.

“Yes, so I’ve noticed. You certainly look the part…and you’re keeping up with the workload of this course.”

“Ahhh,” you crow, clapping your hands excitedly. “Are you saying I might get an ‘A’ in this class? Be the first time someone’s done that in a while, from what I’ve heard around campus.”

Shigaraki sneers and tuts out an inaudible reply, leaning a little closer to you, making you inadvertently fall back a step. “Don’t push your luck.”

“Awe,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m doing ok on all the quizzes and the classwork.”

“So far,” he taunts, his pearlescent hair falling over his broad shoulder.

“Tch. Don’t be like that. I’ve been studying.”

“Sometimes it takes more than that.”

“Oh?” you smile, raising your chin. “What else should I be doing, professor?”

“We’ll know that after Friday, won’t we?”

God.

You’d felt so confident when you’d turned in your test and that stupid, horrible, sexy little quirk of his lip scar that he sends you, when you’d handed him your papers, carries you on some strange, half aroused cloud all weekend. Maybe, just maybe, this class won’t be so bad after all.

The tests are handed back the following Friday, passed from row to row so everyone can fish out their papers and marked Scantrons. Yours, since you still occupy that final seat on the back row, is the last. Biting back a grin, you flip it over, so ready to see that A, that grade that you worked so fucking hard for, that… wait.

The gross flash of red across the top of your paper leaves you reeling, your breath catching against the back of your throat. It’s not a terrible grade, well, it wouldn’t be, but there are only three tests in this class, so it’s going to plummet you down to a B. One more fuck up will leave you with a C, or worse, an automatic failing grade.

No. No, no, no, no.

You can’t afford a bad grade, you honestly can’t even let yourself slip to a B. Your fucking cap and gown have just come in and with them that cord that you can wear around your neck at graduation. The one that marks you as honors cum laude. Fuck. You’re already pulling one B, in one of your other classes, because you’ve been focusing so much time and effort on this one. Another B will strip that cord from you, leaving you barren, with a less than ideal GPA.

God fucking damn it.

You glare up at Shigaraki, who’s busy taking the rest of the class through a review of genetic mutations, but you can’t hear him anymore, too incensed, too overwhelmed to even care about what he’s saying. The test crumples under your fingertips, the paper shaking in your hands, and you seethe, your teeth biting your lower lip to pieces.

It’s not fair. You’d paid attention. You’ve taken all the notes. Read all the chapters. Drilled and studied till your eyes had drooped, heavy with exhaustion. You’ve done it all right. Plus, he’d been so fucking flirty, so open with you. You’ve never chatted with a professor this way, never gone out of your way to wear clothes they like, that make them watch you, their eyes hungry pinpricks as you walk to them, mindful of the luscious sway of your hips.

No. Fuck him. Fuck this class.

Before your elbow classmate can leave, you ask for them to hand in the attendance sheet. You barely hear their response, too busy slamming your laptop into your backpack. As you storm past the podium, you can feel his eyes on you. The distant sensation of his gaze makes your flesh prickle, but you ignore your involuntary reaction and shove your way out the door.

“(Y/N), you can’t switch classes this late. It’s almost midterms. Besides, I don’t think anything has opened up and if you’re going to drop it, you’ve gotta get the signature of the professor,” your advisor tells you, blinking at your stony expression over his thick glasses. “I don’t get it. Why do you want to drop it? Your grades are alright and it’s just one test. You can always try–”

“Gimme the paperwork.”

Shigaraki’s office is on the top floor of the research building, tucked away down another winding and weaving hallway that once again requires your careful inspection to navigate. When you finally hit the right set of doors, you slowly make your way forward, counting the numbers up as you pass. His door is wide open, a yawning cavern that’s filled with the distant light of a lamp. You brush a hand down your skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles and steadying your nerves.

You’d tossed on the skirt this morning, before you’d gotten the grade, and you hadn’t thought to go home and change, too consumed by that simmering rage bubbling within you. And now, like this fucking class, this skirt felt like a mistake, something stupid and vapid that you wished you had time to change out of. He’d told you he liked your attire, liked that you put effort into your outfits. At the time, you’d been so thrilled and excited that he’d complimented you, but now you wish you were confronting him in baggy jeans or lazy sweats, anything that would turn that avid gaze of his away from you.

Lost in thought, you waver beside his open door, nibbling on your lips and tugging at your clothes. It’s now or never. No point in putting it off. What’s the worst that can happen? What can he do now? Or, a darker side of you whispers, what do you want him to do to you? What? That’s a stupid thought, you scold yourself, lifting a hand to the wall and rapping against the beige paint, announcing your presence.

When the sound fades away, swallowed up by the empty and darkened hallway, you poke your head around the corner, searching for him. His head is tilted quizzically, and he blinks twice when he spots you, that all too familiar smirk lifting his lips.

“Ah, Ms. (L/N), what can I do for you?”

His voice is softer than usual and your name sounds like honey, his tone resting on the syllables and consonants for a beat, almost as if he’s savoring their lift, their sound. You can’t help but swallow heavily at his appraisal. Suddenly this may be a terrible idea.

Ugh. Get a grip (Y/N).

“I-I need you to sign this withdrawal paperwork,” you finally reply, digging in your bag and tugging out the thin leaflet, holding it out to him. He’s silent after your demand, meditatively threading his fingers and peering up at you, his red eyes bright.

“Step inside and shut the door behind you,” he instructs, his gaze never falling from yours. Despite the simplicity of his request, you can’t help but bristle at his imperious tone. Why does he always have to sound like that? Like he’s seconds away from taking control of the situation, or of you? He’s always one stupid step ahead, and no doubt he’s going to try and talk you down. Or, he’ll sign it and say that he always knew you were a screw up, someone who only did things halfway, who could never match up to his lofty expectations. Humph, the sooner you’re outta here and out of his class, the better. So, you obey, closing the door and petulantly flopping into the unsteady chair that sits in front of his low desk.

He maintains that uneasy quiet, his red eyes whisking over your disgruntled face, waiting, watching. Unable to take this strange standoff, you push the university paperwork toward him, sliding it as close as you dare to his bent elbows. “I would like to withdraw from your class,” you repeat, lips setting into a thin line.

“Why?” he asks, cocking his head so his loose white hair falls a little further down his rough brow.

“Something came up.”

“Hmm, I can try to work with a new schedule, if it’s your job, or home life,” he counters, eyes narrowing as he sharpens his observations of your brittle expression.

“It’s not that,” you smart, crossing your arms. Great, he’s going to make this difficult.

“Then I suggest you tell me what’s on your mind,” Shigaraki replies, mirroring your movements and leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t think this class is working out for me.”

He exhales a soft laugh at your lie, and you watch that tiny mole at the edge of his chin lift in his quiet mirth. “This is a freshman level course and you’re a senior. You’re in my class because it’s likely the last pre-rec that you need to take before you graduate.”

“Um, yeah. But–”

“And now, you’re wanting to drop it because of one poor grade.”

You grind your teeth and fix him with a stark glower. “I–”

“There will be two other tests. If you read your syllabus, you’d know this.”

“I read the syllabus. Your tests are worth a stupid amount of points and it only takes one of them to tank my grade.”

“Frankly, you did better than most of the class. You only need to work on practical application. I said that the written portion would be a major component of the exam. I also provided you with a review and a rubric. So I’m not sure–”

“Your grade drops me to a ‘B’, and that ‘B’ pulls me from the honors list. And… well… I thought that…”

“Oh? What did you think?” he presses, his voice suddenly dropping to that lower octave it had drifted into when he said your last name.

“I thought I’d get a better grade,” you spit out, turning your head and biting at your lip again.

“Why?” he counters simply. His obtuseness is making your blood boil.

“What do you mean, why?” It takes all of your will to not slip a ‘jackass’ into that question.

“It’s not a hard thing to answer. I graded you fairly and according to my rubric. Why exactly do you feel you merit a different grade than the one you earned?”

You fall into a frustrated silence. You can hear your heart pounding against your ribs and you want to scream at him, to leap over his desk and shake him until his teeth fucking rattle. Your shoulders are rising and lowering disjointedly and his vermillion eyes are honed in on your face, shifting over your pinched expression with a distant interest. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes and you hastily rub a fist over them, brushing away any rogue drops of moisture.

“How can you ask me that? You think I didn’t notice you staring at my legs? Or that you always had something to say to me when I was wearing a skirt? What was I supposed to think, huh? I fucking thought shit like that was gonna help, ok? God, I’m so stupid. I can’t… fuck.”

Shigaraki arches forward when you finish, a deep sigh leaching through his parted lips. His teeth snap together when you look up at him, your eyes gaining back some of that earlier defiance, and he gives you a quick grin, clearly pleased by your shift in attitude and pushes your paper aside, fixing you with a dark look. “Here’s a thought, since you feel you’re so different, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you a chance to make up the score.”

“I don’t care about the score anymore. I wanna drop your class,” you snap, but it’s a halfhearted barb. Something has changed in his demeanor. He’s dropped the concerned professor act and is leaning so close you can hear his steady intakes of air. He’s only a few inches away; if you want, you could touch him.

“I doubt you want to attend a class in the summer. Besides, they won’t let you walk if you haven’t finished your freshman level courses. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to graduate, to earn that cord that lets you into the honor cum laude. So stop pouting and hear me out. I think you’ll like what I have in mind.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever like anything about you,” your voice is sharper than you mean it to be, but the challenge makes Shigaraki smile. As it crosses his cracked lips, it pulls that scar up and it makes those eyes of his glow. He looks like the cat that’s got the cream and you’re not sure how to respond, so you cross your legs and wait for him to make the next move.

“You sure about that? Well, I’ll have to change your tune then, won’t I? But that can wait, lemme tell you what my requirements are. I’ve got a copy of the textbook in here. I’ll have you review some of the major concepts, you’ll read the passages aloud so I’m sure you’re on the right track, you’ll hand the book back to me, and then I’ll verbally quiz you over the material. If you answer them correctly, I’ll bump you to an ‘A’ on your test.”

You have to actively work to keep your mouth closed. “So, you just want me to read from the book?”

“Yes.”

“And… answer questions?”

“That’s what I said,” Shigaraki smirks, already reaching toward his bookshelf, tugging the heavy Intro to Biology text out and shifting it into his large hands.

“Stop being so suspicious,” Shigaraki scolds, drawing your wandering attention back to him. “I don’t bite, that is, unless you want me to.”

Your eyes boggle and you have to clench your thighs tighter, your stomach churning, you feel light-headed and you can feel your core fluttering with your sudden arousal. “Wh-what did you just say?”

“Stop gaping at me like that, you’ll make me blush. Now come on.”

Your jaw snaps closed and you shake your head, trying to clear your mind from your whirling emotions. He takes this reaction as a surrender and stands, stepping toward a marred table that rests a little ways away from his desk. He licks his thumb pad and flips through a few pages before finally settling on an appealing section. Once he places it on the table, he twists back to you and crooks a finger your way. “Come here,” he orders, his voice deep and languid. Obediently, you rise on unsteady feet, hands tugging at the length of your skirt, careful to keep it pressed down as you walk toward him.

He makes space for you to stand in front of the book and shifts back, one hand resting on the table, propping him close to your bent figure. You look up at him, but he only nods his head toward the table, a wicked smile curling the corners of his lips. Blink a few times but finally, the words clear and you can see the block of text that’s in front of you. It’s passages on DNA encodes and RNA proteins, hefty stuff, things that you had to make flash cards for. This isn’t going to be easy. If anything, he’s picked some of the harder concepts, the ones that take steady knowledge in the foundations. Flustered, you look back to him, but he’s moved. He’s leaning against the wide window beside the table, a dark mark against the glass.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, a laugh bubbling in his tone.

“There’s no way…” you stammer, shaking your head at him.

“Want me to throw a curve in?”

“I should ask what kinda curve, but knowing you, it’s likely gonna be something terrible.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he rumbles, stepping away from the window and leaning close to your stiff form. “It just takes an open mind and some enthusiasm on your part.”

“Enthusiasm?” you question, trying your best to withstand his closeness. You can feel the heat radiating off of his broad shoulder and if you tilt a little nearer, you could graze against him, or feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re right,” he amends, his forearm contacting your side. You startle at the touch, a gasp falling from your lips, but you don’t pull away and you can’t stop staring up at him, your eyes wide. “Obedience is a better word. From here on out, whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to obey it, although it’s not exactly, ah, school approved.”

“You want me to suck you off or something?” you sneer, hoping to stumble him off his guard, even if it’s only for an instant. Too bad he’s always one step ahead.

“Don’t be vulgar. Think outside of the box, (Y/N). Do you think I’m going to go for something so short sighted when I could have you bending to my will? Obeying every little demand that I make? I’d much rather see if that skin of yours tastes as good as it looks, then simply have you on your knees. No, I want you to fucking scream for me while I stuff you full of my cock. But first, you need to put in some work. You should know that by now.”

Oxygen is suddenly very hard to come by and you can feel your mind hazing over as you stammer up at him, your mind flitting from word to word disjointedly. Shigaraki grants you a wolfish grin, and he dips his lips beside your ear, whispering over those tiny hairs that rest against your tender skin. “I’ll make this part easy. Nod and I’ll give you the first set of instructions.”

What did he say? Nod? What happens when you nod? Fuck, why are you letting him do this? Is your grade really worth it? Are you that desperate that… that…

Shigaraki is whispering other promises over you as you war with yourself, speaking his words gently, slowly, his breath hot as it fans over your neck. It’s like you’ve fallen under some kinda spell and before you realize it, your traitorous head is bobbing up and down, letting him know you want him to keep going.

“Perfect,” he sighs, his lips grazing over the shell of your ear, jerking a shiver from you. “Now, lean forward and put your hands against the table.”

You do as he says, but he’s not satisfied with your positioning, his fingers wrapping around your wrists and yanking you forward, jutting your ass out and pressing your chest down, maneuvering you until your nose is right above the pages of the textbook. “There we go,” he rasps, pulling away so he can admire your splayed form. “Hmm, your legs are too close together. Spread them.” Knees trembling, you obey, gasping when he runs a palm against the curve of your thighs.

“You’ve got such nice legs (Y/N), so let’s put them on display, shall we?” His fingers search against the top of your skirt and they still when he reaches his prize: the zipper. When he pulls it down, you let out a sharp squeak of protestation but he silences you with a swift pinch to your side.

“Now, now, don’t be like that. You nodded, remember? Besides, you could have left when I told you I’d give you a curve but you couldn’t help yourself could you? You want me to keep going and to do that, I need you to take this skirt off. No, don’t move. I’ll get rid of it for you. Why don’t you focus on the task at hand, hmm? Aren’t you supposed to be reading for me?”

You arch away from his fingers and he chuckles at your impudence, one large hand hooking under your chin and pulling you toward his face. His red eyes blaze as they find yours, the dark pupils threatening to swallow up that deep vermillion. “Let’s start with the second paragraph. If you do well, I might grant you a reprieve.”

Jerking your face from his grip, you twist back to the text, trying, and failing, to ignore his inquisitive fingers, unable to resist sighing as he works one up your inner thigh. He pauses when no words fall from your lips and you grumble out a few low curses before acquiescing to his silent demand.

“The flow of genetic information in cells from DNA to mRNA to protein is described by the Central Dogma, which states that genes specify the sequence of mRNAs, which specify the sequence of proteins. The decoding of one molecule… the… the… molecule… by spec-specific…”

He’s slipped your skirt down over the swell of your ass, but he’s taking his time, flexing out the front of the material and dipping his fingers over the bump of your lower stomach, kneading into the delicate flesh that’s stretched out for him. You can’t help the twitch of your spine and you involuntarily wiggle, palms slipping forward, dragging you further along the tabletop. Shigaraki chuckles above you, running his rough lips over the back of your neck.

“You’re so sensitive. I’ve barely touched you.”

He circles his hands back to your skirt and edges it along, lowering it sharply on one side and then giving the same treatment to the other. You’re doing your best to keep up with your stammering readings, but it’s difficult when he keeps sighing and running his long nails across your newly bared skin. Finally, he works the skirt down and it thumps against your bare ankles; the fabric tickling your skin.

Meanwhile, his other fingers skitter against the elastic band of your rapidly dampening panties. Once he hooks the lace under his hand, he yanks them along your legs, trailing them sinfully slowly, ensuring that they glide down the billow of your thighs. His teeth nip at your ear when you stumble to a halt in your recitation and your hands tense over the grains of wood beneath them, your nails pinching into your palms. “If you stop, I stop,” he warns, his head bumping against yours, his sharp nose pressing against your pulse.

“You’re not exactly making this easy,” you grumble, doing your best to ignore his renewed pets and strokes.

“Stop complaining,” he smirks, leaning away from your head to peer at your newly exposed flesh. “You better pay attention to what you’re reading or you’re not going to pass the questions I’ll be asking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, ow!” you squawk, whipping your head around to glare up at him. He fucking pinched you again! This time, he’d slipped his hand between your spread legs and tweaked your inner thigh, painfully.

“Read,” he repeats, running those guilty fingers upward, lingering beside the heat of your cunt, careful to not get too close. When you start on the next sentence, one of his hands tugs up the fabric of your shirt, snaking upward until he’s thumbing against the wire of your bra. Once again, you falter to a halt and exhale a wavering breath.

Goddamn it. This review is no review. You’ll be lucky if you can even recall what a cell is if he keeps this up. You hear his ominous intake of air and quickly resume your recitation, mumbling something about RNA and mRNA differences.

Wait. Didn’t you just…

“Looks like you’re having trouble listening to me. I told you to read aloud, not to repeat the same passages over and over.”

“Hey, at least I’ll have a firm grasp on those. You should ask me something about that s-section… ah–”

The hand that was resting under the cup of your bra has made its way underneath the lightly padded material, and his thumb and index fingers have trapped your peaked nipple between them. As soon as your snarky comment left your mouth, he’d twisted the bud, squeezing it until it throbbed.

“Pay attention,” he commands, shoving your bra upward, freeing the globes of your breasts and cupping both of his broad hands under them. Your abused nipple stings and the mixture of sharp pain and jarring arousal goes right through you, stoking that coil that pulsed within your core, and sending a tacky flush of your essence down your spread thighs.

The next few words are a struggle. The text keeps blurring and your breaths are coming in fast and heavy. Shigaraki is still feeling you up, keeping his lips close to your ears, rasping sharp commands to you and dealing out lightning fast rounds of pinches and squeezes each time you falter.

“I–I can’t… I don’t even know what I’m reading anymore,” you bemoan, your hips pressing against the edge of the table, legs trembling as you attempt to keep them apart. He’s deliberately ignoring your throbbing clit and a desperate edge is creeping into your voice.

“Are you always this whiny? Fine. I’ll give you a moment to read without any distractions.”

Thank God.

True to his word, he slips away from your back and you’re left shivering against his sudden absence. Despite your quaking, you’re determined to make the most of this chance and you quickly read out the paragraphs that are on the second page. As you ramble down to the last bit of text, you realize you can’t hear him anymore and when you finish the last sentence; you start to really wonder where he’s drifted off to. A tense silence follows your completion of the material and you arch up on the tips of your toes, jutting your ass out and stretching the stiffened muscles of your lower back.

“Didn’t say you could stop reading, and judging from all of your complaints, I don’t think you got some of those earlier concepts, so I’d suggest doing a quick review,” he taunts, the sudden rasp of his voice startling a low gasp from your lips.

He’s close; somewhere behind you and to the left from the sound of it. You try to twist around, your chest lifting from the table, and when he notices, his hands return, creating a rough pressure against your neck as he forces your body back down. His weight plasters you to the surface, scraping your partially exposed stomach and tender breasts over the nicked wood. Shigaraki is merciless in his swift correction, his breath puffing out angrily behind you. “Didn’t say you could move, either.”

Stunned, you freeze. Your arms are arched awkwardly, but he keeps his weight against you, flattening your breasts and forcing your back to arch into an awkward bend. Fuck, you think, how are you supposed to stay like this? Your legs are already aching and if he shifts away again, he’s likely going to expect you to maintain this absurd pose.

“Yes,” he groans, his voice catching against the word, “Good girl. Now, stay just like that.”

Damn it.

“Go on, read the first part again,” he instructs.

“The entire genetic content of a cell is known as its genome and the study of genomes is gen-genomics. In eukaryotic cells, but… but not in p-prokaryotes, DNA forms a complex with histone proteins… with histone proteins… sub-substance… of…”

His teeth have latched onto your neck, and he’s sucking bruises into your tender skin. He’s still pinning you to the table, but his hands are widening their explorations. He’s started dragging a fingernail across the puffy folds of your cunt, teasing against the dripping and swollen flesh, chuckling when you buck against his hold.

“You always seem to lose it when you get to cellular modulations.”

“I–I–It’s not… I can’t help that you keep…” you whimper, your fingers curling under your palms, head shaking back and forth. You can’t think. He’s not being fucking fair, and you can’t even string your goddamn words together. Shit. “Y-you’re not being fair,” you accuse, falling on the only thing that keeps running through your mind, your splayed feet shifting uncomfortably under you.

“Not fair? Not once did I say fairness would come into this arrangement,” he lifts himself off of your back and leans beside you, one arm planted beside your crooked elbow. His fingers trace over the curve of your ass, cupping at the thickest part of you and squeezing.

“But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get a little satisfaction out of this arrangement. I bet you look good when you cum. And you’ve been working so hard to get my attention these last few months. So careful to do what I tell you. Looking at me with those big eyes of yours, all wide eyed every time I catch you looking at me. And don’t even get me started on your lips. You’re lucky I didn’t fucking bend you over after class, especially when you started wearing all of those cute little skirts for me. Ahhh, don’t moan like that, I won’t be able to help myself if you do. Let’s see how you’re doing, shall we?”

Without warning, he slips his longest digit into your cunt, groaning loudly when he’s sucked into your welcoming heat. Your pussy, hungry for any kind of scrap, ripples around his intrusion, clamping and pulling, desperate for more.

“Fuck,” he groans, his weight falling against your shoulder. “You’re soaking.” His elegant digit pushes deeper and you roll your hips under him, urging him closer, sighing when he sinks to the last knuckle. As he pulls his finger back, he adds another, swiftly v-ing the two before curving them together as they slip back out, dragging a steady line of pleasure from your quivering cunt. Shigaraki whispers another round of awed praise against your ear, his voice dark and breathless.

A third digit is added on another trip out, and it creates a ragged sensation within you. It’s close to what you like, but he’s stretching you too far and it’s starting to hurt. He either needs to speed up, or give you a little more pressure. If you can hump your clit against the edge of the table, maybe it’ll give you the friction that you need. When you mindlessly buck your hips, your thighs threatening to lose that spread, he stops, holding his fingers inside you, laughing as you agitatedly try to shift him back into his earlier rhythm.

“So eager. I’d say you’re ready for my questions.”

“W-what?” you gasp, wholly focused on making him restart the push and pull of his fingers inside you.

“I’ll start you off with something easy. What’s the cell membrane?”

“W-what? The cell… ah–”

“Answer me. Now,” he grunts, leaning forward, re-steadying you as his fingers pull outward, dragging against your sensitive folds and schlicking through your arousal lewdly, loudly. You moan and your eyes roll back, completely ignoring his demand as you fall into the haze of pleasure that comes after his movements.

His free hand travels up your neck and he tangles his fingers into the tendrils of your hair, yanking and jerking at the strands, demanding your attention.

“I said, answer me.”

“Shigaraki–I–fuck. I can’t even… ugh… think right now!”

“Do you want the grade, or not?” he questions, his voice tense. “Answer correctly and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I–I don’t think I can,” you whine, pressing your hips back as he thrusts his fingers forward again, curving them upward, searching for the spongy pad of nerves that rest against the front of your pelvis.

“Oh? What happened to wanting that A? What about your graduation? You gonna let me fuck up your entire college career? I can do it, you know. I’ve done it to so many simpering freshmen. I fail kids left and right and you’re no different, (Y/N).

The university lets me ahh–there it is! God, you’re so fucking wet.

Where was I? The university can’t say no to me; they let me do what I want. I bring in too much money, too many tempting grants, and that’s all they really care about. So what’s it gonna be? Let me see that you can answer this basic crap and I’ll pass you. Or would you like for me to tie you down and force it outta you another way?”

He’s picked up the pace of his fingers as he rambles over you and a swift press against that newly discovered spot inside you has you falling to pieces in his hands, popping up onto your tiptoes and rutting yourself against the surface of the table. “O-ok, God, ok! Just–fucking repeat the goddamn question,” you pant, head slumping forward, forcing his fingers to tighten against your hair to hold you upright.

“What is the cell membrane?”

You wince your eyes closed, trying to rack your brain to focus on something other than the heavy pressure of the three fingers that are teasing their way across your dribbling pussy. He’s moving his presses with a lackadaisical, inconsistent rhythm now and it’s hard to fucking think. You can’t tell if his next thrust will be hard, or soft, or so rough that it’s bordering on that bittersweet line of pain.

You shake your head, doing your best to ignore the mounting pressure that he’s building inside you and the ache of your neck and legs. Finally, after another sharp tap against that secret bunch of nerves at the front of your cunt, you latch onto a vague remembrance.

“It… it’s a double layer of–of phospholipids that make a boundary between the cell and t-the surrounding… ugh… it controls the passage of materials.”

“Very good. Elaborate on the cellular wall.”

He’s unrelenting in his domineering treatment, twisting and frigging his fingers each time your breath hitches, and your arousal is leaking down your legs, making your skin stick and pull. It’s too much, you can’t! How can he even ask this? Words are falling from your lips incoherently, and all too soon you’re gasping out his name rather than reciting the answer.

“Cellular–oh, fuck, Shi–Shigaraki–Please, keep–don’t stop! S-Shigaraki, God that… feels… ah–keep going!”

He ignores your request and pulls his fingers away, robbing you of that sweet pressure that he’s so carefully mounted within you.

“I’ll count that one as incorrect. Your ‘A’ is swiftly becoming an ‘A’ minus, (Y/N)” he snarls, his teeth gritted, hands falling to the swell of your hips, wet fingers digging into your soft skin.

“What? No! You didn’t give me enough… e-enough time! How can–can you expect me to answer that qui-quickly!”

“Let’s try another.”

It hurts. That ache that he’s drawn out of you is starting to sting and throb and he’s being such a dick about it! You twist and grind under him, and he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“I don’t–” you protest weakly, your legs trembling and chest heaving under his weight.

“Do you want this? Wouldn’t you like to pass this class? To graduate with honors?” he growls, leaning closer, his hands braced against you, his fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the supple crest of your hips.

“You’re such an ass! Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then answer another question. What’s diffusion?”

“D-diffu-diffusion is the process by which molecules move from an a-area of… of… fuck- of high concentration, to low concentration. Shigaraki!”

“I should count that as another miss, but you got the major concept correct.” He removes his fingers from your waist and yanks your ass toward him, keeping your overeager hips away from the fleeting relief of the sturdy table. “Pop your legs together,” he commands, one hand wrapping around your arched throat, squeezing until you obey. His other hand drops to that thatch of curls that rest between your quivering thighs and he gathers up your gossamer strands, rubbing against your clit for one hazy instant, sending a flash of spots across your vision.

“Mmm, now that’s a pretty sight. Good girl, don’t move,” he reminds you and you want to scream at him. Right before you can spit some frustrated vitriol out, he’s releasing your neck, his hands dropping from your skin and letting you fall back to the uneven surface below. Just before your chin contacts the wood, his hand is back in your hair, tugging you upward, holding you a few inches above the table. The sharp pain makes your scalp tingle and you unconsciously rut against the tempting heat that’s now plastered to your ass. He’s hard. You can feel the stiff bulge of his cock straining against the front of his dark jeans, pressing into the cleft of your posterior.

“T-that’ can’t be comfortable,” you pant, twisting your head so you can look up at him from the curve of your shoulder.

“Oh? You worried about my cock?” he asks, his red eyes flashing down at you challengingly. You don’t bother giving him a verbal response, opting instead to grind your ass up, catching against the jut of his length, earning yourself a low groan. His lips curl when you repeat the motion and you realize you love watching that smug face of his drift into a look of tense pleasure. It makes his scar on his lip flush and those red eyes of his fall to a lazy half mast. He spies your arched brow and pleased grin and pushes himself off of you, leaving you alone and open on the table.

“Keep pushing your luck. I’m more than happy to drop you back to a B.”

“What?” you scoff, teeth clinking together as you clench your jaw. “I didn’t move!”

“No, but you’re trying to take control of this and we can’t have that can we?” Shigaraki sneers. “Now, how shall I punish you?”

“P-punish me?” you stammer, a chill racing down your spine.

“Ah, I know. This’ll really piss you off,” he twists from your strained gaze and walks back toward his desk. What? What the fuck does he mean? You can’t see him from this angle, not with the way your legs are stretched and back is lowered, but it doesn’t stop you from trying, your chin lifting upwards as you do your best to keep him in focus.

Ugh. It’s no use. He’s slipped past your field of vision.

Hearing is likely your best bet, so you shift your forehead back to the table and listen, straining your ears to pick up any morsel. Something opens and closes and you catch the sound of the wheels of his chair as they shift, squeaking across the floor, and the groaning of the springs when his weight is applied to the cheap leather.

Okay, so he’s in his chair. Is he just gonna look at you? That’s not… wait…

There’s a faint clicking sound.

It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to your ears, but once the teeth slide over the last pull, you realize. It’s a zipper.

Oh fuck. Is he going to jerk himself off? With a gasp, your head whips back around. He’s still positioned himself away from you, and you can only just make out the sounds that are accompanying the undoubted rise and fall of his fist. All you can see is a tiny sliver of his body, but you catch sight of the coiling muscles on his neck and you notice that his head is dipped forward, pearl white hair settling across the cut of his collarbone. The one red eye that meets yours is blazing and hungry, it makes every hair on the back of your neck stand up.

God, he’s staring at you, watching you, getting himself off as you’re half naked and bent over a desk in his office, fully subjugating yourself to his whims and fancies for the sake of your grade.

Damn it, (Y/N). This should not be a fucking turn on. You should be disgusted, but the flush of slick that drips down your thigh says otherwise.

He lets out a choked moan, picking up the pace of his hand, letting you hear the click and slip of his palm as it strokes up and down his cock. A shiver echoes up your spine and your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding your clenched thighs over the dip of the table, easing the clenching pulsations that your cunt is shuddering through you.

“Look at you, so desperate for my touch that you’re humping the fucking table. Such a dirty girl, and so disobedient. You’ve only answered a few of my questions correctly and yet your slutty little mouth and body keep pushing at me. Making me put you in your place. Let me ask you something, why should I go out of my way to fix your grade when you can’t even prove to me you understand the simplest concepts?

Ah, here’s a thought. What if I told you I’ll wave the other requirements; no more readings, no more quizzes, but I won’t let you cum? What if I just get myself off? You’re putting on a such a good show for me! Why should I bother with seeing that you’re satisfied when that table seems to do the job for you? Sound good? Or would you like for me to come back over there and make you cum?”

“I–I don’t… I don’t want…” You can’t get the words out, your tongue feels leaden between your lips and you can’t think of anything but the steady itch that’s spreading from your clit.

“Speak up,” Shigaraki demands, slowing his jerking fingers. The chair he’s sitting in groans as he leans forward, and his eyes wide as they take in the delicious sight that’s propped before him. “You don’t want to cum? Is that it? You’d like for me to get myself off and leave you there?”

“No!” you cry out, your fingers digging into the scuffed wood of the table. “I-I want you to make me cum.”

There’s a sharp clatter and you jump at the abrupt noise. It must be the chair you think, your heart pounding against your chest, waiting for Shigaraki’s next move. He only lets a few seconds drift by before he presses himself back to you. He leans his broad chest over your back, the front of his legs pushing against the back of yours. His exposed length is wedged firmly against the cleft of your ass and its tempting hardness makes you squirm under him, but he’s propelling you forward, pinning you against the rough wood, and you can only flail uselessly under his control. His lips skim over your neck and he bites into your skin, sucking and licking bruises as he inches closer to your pulse.

You say his name pitifully, wantonly, and he lets out a shaky gasp. Something about your tone has shifted something within him and you can feel his cock swelling, dripping a rope of wet pre-cum down your shaking leg.

He leans away, removing his sticky hardness from your ass. “Seems your priorities have shifted. You’re a little preoccupied right now, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice gravel scraping against your overwhelmed senses. You let out a weak moan and he snaps into action, his fingers pushing under your flattened stomach and tugging against the fabric that he finds. He yanks you upward, pulling your shirt up as he goes. His palms dip under your half lifted bra, and he cups at your breasts, massaging the rounded bulbs and plucking at your peaked nipples. Your head lolls back, and he sucks at your earlobe again, his breath warm and rasping as it passes by.

“Hold still,” he commands.

It’s not an easy position, this stretched upward arch that he’s forced you into, but it’s worth it when you feel his cock pushing between your tensed legs. He doesn’t thrust into you, opting to run his weeping tip against your slippery folds, pressing until his bulbous head is twitching against your pulsing clit.

Goddamn it, you think as he stills, his lips smacking open-mouthed kisses over your shoulder, it’s not enough. You wiggle your hips back and forth and he abruptly exerts a firm pressure against your windpipe, leaving you sputtering and gasping. “What’s wrong? Not happy with this? Do you think you deserve something more? Do you think you’ve earned that?” He shoves you back against the surface of the table, his broad chest following the plane of your back, trapping you under his heavy form.

You’d replied, you know you must have, but you can’t hear yourself anymore, your attention attuned to the warm length that’s pressed against your shuddering folds. You’d likely thrown in a please for good measure because Shigaraki rewards you with a quick peck to your shivering neck and his thumb, swirling it around your clit, creating a cresting ache that leaves you mumbling incoherently, a thin line of drool slipping from your parted lips. As he keeps that faint osculation up, your fingernails scrape over the wood of the table, your feet lifting you onto your toes, curving your back, and shoving your leaking pussy into his open palm.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” Shigaraki says, a breathy desperation lingering around the edges of his rasping voice. “But it’s just not enough, right?”

You nod, licking up some of the excess saliva that’s built under your heavy tongue and crane your head back at him. His eyes are the first thing you see. They’re wild, ravenous and glinting with a roughness that makes you whisper out a soft whine. Fuck. It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re not supposed to want him this badly. Goddamn it. Now that he’s caught your gaze, he won’t let you look away, and he presses himself closer, his cock twitching and warm, the tip rubbing back and forth, keeping time with his circling thumb.

“You gonna fuck me, or not?” you finally ask, unsticking your lips and smirking up at his hardened face.

“Tch. Don’t rush me,” he grumbles, removing his hand and teasing cock from your cunt, watching as your body convulses under him, your pussy quivering against the excess stimulation that he’s wrought over you. Your thighs burn, aching to break free from his control, to rub against that throb, that tingling that keeps shuddering outward.

“One more question,” he tells you, lifting his dripping thumb to his lips and sucking off the traces of your arousal. The sight of him licking his pink tongue over his gleaming knuckles almost makes you lose your balance, your arms shaking precariously under you.

“A-another? Come on,” you pout, your eyes following the curve of his wicked lips, watching as his scar quirks upward, amused by your useless defiance.

“Make you a deal, answer it correctly and I’ll give you my cock. Sound fair?”

“Ugh, whatever, just hurry up,” you snap, so impatient and turned on that you can hardly think.

The tip of his cock presses against your sopping entrance, pushing forward just enough to part your dripping folds but stopping before he clears that first, tight ring of flesh. The promise of his dribbling tip makes you lose any semblance of self-control. You thrash under him, but he traps your disobedient hips against the rough siding of the table.

“No! Don’t stop! Come on Sh-Shigaraki–Don’t be such a fucking–ah–”

“Do you want this? Do you want my cock?” he growls, leaning over you, his fingers squeezing down, no doubt leaving bruises in the supple crest of your hips.

“Yes! Fuck, please! I–I want it so fucking bad!” you cry out, your voice drifting into a sob as you croak out the last plea.

“Then you better answer. What are cytosines?”

“They… they’re n-nitrogenous base… fuck… base that pair… that pair with guanine during D-DNA replication… I–please, please, Shigaraki! Fuck me! I want your cock! Fuck me, fuck me!”

Thankfully, he either takes pity on you, or can’t control himself anymore, his hips surging forward, gliding his thick length into your cunt and snarling at the mind numbing heat that waits for him. He keeps driving upward until he bottoms out, sharp hipbones grinding against the plushness of your ass.

He’s not gentle with you, no he’s animalistic and raw, his thrusts papping into you with a terrifying strength. You would have liked something slower, something that lets you enjoy each imperfection and dip that raced along his cock, but this, oh, this is an exception because this is perfect. It’s not what you want, but it is what you need.

The heavy fullness that he’s stuffing you with leaves you breathless, but you somehow manage to gasp out a string of nonsensical praises each time he drives back into you, overwrought by his roughness.

This coupling isn’t kind, isn’t right, and is not healthy, for either of you. No, not with the way he’s using your shivering body, distracted with slacking that euphoric thrum that’s making his cock pulse and swell inside you.

But fuck it feels good and you can’t help but tremble with delight. These intoxicating thrusts of his ram him up against something that’s buried deep inside you, and each time he hits it another star of bright pleasure races through you. The familiar coiling of release is steadily mounting with each rapid fire rut he gives you and if he could just, ah, there’s something that’s… no, fuck, it’s, it’s not going to work. It feels good, but it’s missing one vital ingredient, one thing that he’s neglected to pay attention to, to notice.

Your clit needs to be tweaked and rolled, and right now it’s pulsing away against the table, beating a sad tattoo into the grainy wood. Oh well, you think, head fuzzy, lost in the euphoria of his powerful cants, grinding your ass into his hips as he digs into another teeth chattering thrust. He’ll likely finish soon, and you’ll probably need to get yourself off later. It’s not something new, and it’s not like he’s going to care enough to focus on that, on you. This whole thing has been about control, so there’s likely no room for your own pleasure.

“What’s wrong,” he gasps out, his fingers lifting from your hips to curl beside your turned head.

“What? N-nothing–I–” you pant, eyes rolling back as he hits that spongy patch of nerves again.

“Tch. Hold on,” he interrupts, his voice rasping and breathy. He pulls himself out of you with a grunt and yanks you upward, hauling you onto the tabletop and flipping you on your back, bending your stiffened legs and bracing your knees against his lean forearms.

He holds you apart, spreading you open with his powerful hands. You can see him properly now, and the sight makes your breath catch against the back of your throat. Fuck, he looks good.

His long white hair is draped across his bare shoulders and his eyes are blazing pits of hunger, devouring the sight of you with those red irises. His jaw is clenched, and he glares down at you from his imperious height, his nostrils flaring as he drags in a quick intake of air. To your shock, he gives you a little time to acclimate to this new position, opting to languidly step forward, letting his slippery cock head press and tease at the dip of your opening. But right when you think he’ll move again, he stops, his eyes roving over the lines of your face.

His sudden stillness makes you peer quizzically up at him and you scoot closer, your feet lifting from the table. The movement snaps him out of his stupor and he grabs your ankles, roughly pinning you back down.

“Keep still,” he snarls through clenched teeth, that scar of his lifting.

You nod mutely and he rewards your unquestioning obedience with another powerful thrust, sinking his swollen cock back into your waiting cunt. He lets out a sharp groan and grabs at your hips, jerking you forward, already drifting back into that all-consuming rhythm he’d started earlier. His ruts are a little slower from this angle but, in no time at all, that familiar ache pools in your core, stoking and building at an alarming rate. The driving force of his hips soon has you blinking back spots and distant stars, and this time he adds the all important pressure of his thumb, circling the finger pad over your clit and dragging a broken moan from your quivering lips.

“So that’s what you needed. You close?” he grits out, his lips set in a curled scowl. He’s lost some of that early control, his hips stuttering as they connect with yours, his power lessening, cooling, as he looks for your release.

“I–I think–oh fuck, do that again. Yes! Just–ah!”

He angles your hips upward and gives your clit another quick oscillation, pressing down until you’re gasping. “There you go. That felt good. You’re getting tighter,” he laughs, looming over you, shoving your heaving chest downward as he jerks your hips into him, forcing your body to do most of the motion, making your shoulder blades scrape across the uneven wood. “Cum for me. Fucking cum on my cock, (Y/N). Cum and I’ll give you your A, I’ll give you whatever the fuck you want.”

Your spine arches as you break around him, your cunt greedily pulling him deeper, slipping him past the barrier of your tender cervix and earning you a weak shout of praise from Shigaraki. Seconds later, he’s pulsing and twitching against your walls, the warm pooling of his cum filling you up and spilling down your spread thighs.

His head drops to your shoulder and the rough skin of his forehead sticks to your sweat dampened flesh. For a long moment you’re both still, each of you struggling to catch your breath, luxuriating in the tingling sensation of release.

“I fucking hate you, you know,” you gasp out, your arms circling his back, fingertips etching vague patterns over his neck and shoulders.

“Ha,” he snorts, “I’ll have to remember that. Don’t worry (Y/N), I’ll pay you back for that little remark next time.”

“Oh? Next time?” you chuckle, moaning as he twists out of your hold and pulls his softening length out of you.

“I’ll fail you on every assignment if you try to keep away,” he threatens, his eyes falling to the gaping mess that he’s left behind. You cross your legs, denying him the satisfaction of leering at your dripping pussy.

“Fine. But next time, fuck me on something softer than a damn table.”

tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @rekoii, @diaouranask, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @libiraki <--- i’m coming for you. you’re gonna have to read for this, lady. so, uh, i’m officially noneconing you here.

notes: you made it! this thing is a monster & i’m so sorry i can never stfu

#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #reader insert #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #bnha smut #9 to 5 collab #bnha degeneracy server #collaboration #tw: unhealthy relationship #tw: teacher/student #tw: dubcon #tw: bribery

2K notes · View notes

jujutsu-headcanons · 3 years

Text

Gojo Satoru general headcanons

Let's get one thing clear: this man is absolutely chaotic. He is always full of energy. His energy levels never reach below 50%. He is loud and proud, always running, and never takes a minute to relax.

Do not give him Monster. Shoko did that once and it took her forever to get him off the ceiling. Also, avoid caffeine. Shoko replaces his normal coffee with decaf and he still hasn't noticed the difference. Keep it that way.

He was the class clown when he was younger. He wasn't exactly a trouble maker, but he may as well be. I cannot word that sentence and I am sorry. Next.

All of his teachers assumed he never listened in class, so they always called in him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. It still shocked them every time he rattled off the correct answer.

Not only did he answer the question correctly, but he could also explain his reasoning behind the answer, and if it was multiple choice, explain why the other answers were wrong.

This tall man child would march up to the board and absolutely fill it to the brim with work, turn around, drop the chalk-like a mic drop and walk back to his desk with the smuggest look on his face.

That doesn't mean he did the work tho

Idk how schools in japan work but we all know schools in America only care about the amount of work you do and not what you actually know so we'll use that for the sake of the headcanon: he had straight D's bc he never turned in his work

Despite not doing the work snd goofing off, teachers actually really liked him

A lot of people liked him and he was super popular, but he still felt alone

Fake friends, you know how that works, he didn't meet any real friends until he became a shaman

Clean freak. This dude actually makes his bed. He scrubs his bathroom twice a week. His desk can get cluttered but he straightens up once a week. He's not exactly a germaphobe because

He cannot respect your personal space and that's actually canon but let me take it a step further

He's a slapper. Especially when he laughs. It doesn't hurt, it's playful dw. He hugs you from behind especially when he's cold. He picks you up and carries you around. He will grab your wrist, arm, or hand and lead you around even if you're following him. He lays his legs across you or lays across your lap. Puts his head on your shoulder. Platonic cuddling between friends is mandatory. He's just so hands-on it's ridiculous.

Unless you explicitly tell him you're uncomfortable he won't stop

Don't worry, if you aren't in that type of relationship, your no-no square is safe. Except, if you seem chill, he will slap your ass regardless of friendship status. His ass is also slappable. You can't tell me Geto and Gojo didn't run around slapping each other asses, okay

He was weird and scrawny as a child. He didn't start beefing out until he started training to be a shaman and he's still kinda smaller than most beefy boys

He can pick you up and throw you around easily. He carried around a 170 pound Yuji like a sack of potatoes and can easily carry around three times that weight

It's amazing he's so tiny because you remember 2014 Shane Dawson making all of those wack ass desserts that was just s pile of chaos wrapped in chocolate?

He can eat every last bite of one of those monstrosities without getting a stomach ache, gaining weight, or dying basically

He knows bc Yuji dared him to do it

He has really cold hands and feet

He sounds old. Let me elaborate. He's constantly cracking his joints. They also creak when he moves. He complains about body pains like he's 80 y/o

He also shares wisdom with the kids as if he's actually 80 y/o

It's irrelevant advice that doesn't make sense but is also useful. Megumi can't count the number of times he's asked Gojo for feedback on his technique but had been told to remember to chew 40 times or never go to bed angry

Starts off sentences with "now son" and "when I was your age"

He uses his blindfold as a headband when he wants his hair out of his face. He also uses headbands as... Headbands... When he wants to wear sunglasses but get his hair out of his face

He owns so many pairs of sunglasses but he always wears the same pair

He's only bought a handful of them himself, most of them are gifts

No one knows what to get him for Christmas or his birthday bc he has everything, so they resort to sunglasses

His favorite pair is a pair that Shoko and Geto bought him as a gag. He thought they were dead serious, though, so he wore them around for a month

They were heart-shaped, rose-tinted glasses

Can you believe this man doesn't use any gel or anything to keep his hair spiky with the blindfold on? It just naturally defies gravity when the blindfold is on

Tell this man he's pretty because he already knows. He's narcissistic but not the cringy kind

Photogenic as hell. Takes great pictures from any angle.

He gives everyone a different story as to why he covers his eyes. Sometimes he says it's because his eyes are too pretty and are a distraction. Sometimes he says it's because the sunglasses/bandages/blindfold look cooler than his eyes. Sometimes he says it's to protect the six eyes from seeing things he doesn't want to see. The world may never know

He's tried covering his whole face before, but he thinks he's too pretty for that. He at least wants one of his many amazing features to be shown at all times.

So about his driver's license;

He knows how to drive. He can be a good driver. When he wants to be. He just doesn't have a driver's license.

Now he TELLS people he just never got around to getting one, however, there's a rumor he lost it due to too many parking tickets

It's amazing the only tickets he's ever gotten have been from that and once he got caught without a seatbelt; he would have gotten out of that one if he hadn't been flirting with the police officer so bad

This doesn't stop Gojo from driving places though

He steals Ijichi's car a LOT and Ijichi DOESN'T KNOW HOW like??? The windows are never broken and it doesn't look hotwired-

Gojo has a key

You're not even supposed to be able to duplicate car keys but Gojo did

Also; none of the first-year trio knows he doesn't have a driver's license, though that much should be painfully obvious

He whips around corners, speeds up at yellow lights, goes "watch this" and does a donut, it's just a mess

The poor students have to sit in the backseat too. Just imagine Megumi with all three seatbelts around him like that one meme.

He thrives off of Nobara and Yuji screaming from the backseat, and he can see Megumi being smooshed because he thought the middle seat was the safest through the rearview mirror

Which he doesn't even need because of the six eyes

Despite being such a reckless driver, he knows when danger will happen, so he's never once gotten in a wreck

He blasts the radio, which makes up for the driving.

Has a habit of getting in a car and ending up in the McDonalds drive-thru

Steals other people's fries and keeps the fullest one for himself.

He was rebellious as a kid and teenager, but hey, at least his juvie record is sealed

He's been detained and in the back of a cop car many times, but the reason was never really bad enough for him to be arrested. Mostly he's just being mouthy. And the time he got caught spray painting on the side of a building. And that one time he and Getou hopped the fence to get into the local pool. And that other time-

It got worse after Getou wasn't around to get him out of trouble. Suddenly, breaking the rules wasn't fun anymore and he mellowed out.

Tried alcohol and cigarettes before he was legal. Decided neither was his thing, however, he did start drinking occasionally when he was legal.

He's a fucking chaotic drunk. Oh my god he's absolutely feral

Most bars in the vicinity know him by name and they sigh whenever he walks in

Shoko is his emergency contact. She hates it

Shoko has to drag drunk Gojo home at least twice a month and is not happy about it

Once she left him in an alley. He made it home okay so she guesses it's fine

Once he got so drunk he spilled beer on his sock. The thought the fastest way to dry them was by sticking them in the microwave. Forgot about it until someone asked, "Who the fuck is cooking socks???"

I feel it important he was in the break room of the local grocery store and no one knows how he got there

As he was escorted out he stole a grocery cart and rode away in it while singing Don't Threaten Me (With A Good Time) by Panic! At The Disco

He has no alcohol tolerance at all what so ever

He will literally just stare at you and giggle

It's funny he's really flirty but also doesn't seal the deal. Literally, every woman in that bar is willing to get in his bed but he declines every offer. No one knows why

Its because he respects women

He helps his students break the rules as long as they're within reason. Once night Yuji was really hungry and after having a temper tantrum he couldn't order Uber eats bc the school is supposed to be secret Gojo helped sneak him out to get food. Who needs curfew anyway.

The shirts in his closet range from like twenty bucks to the iconic rich bitch shirt the kids ruined in that one chapter we all know the one

He still wears that by the way, he calls it "art"

When he was younger, Megumi drew a picture of Gojo being eaten by his shadow dogs. Gojo found it and now it's framed in his room.

He keeps up with current trends and memes like no one's business. This is how he bonds with his kids.

Don't call him old, but also, he'll tell you to respect your elders it's a mess

He has a lot of games on his phone. You can usually find him holding his phone sideways playing some RPG game he probably spent too much money on

He did hop on the Pokemon Go hype train but after becoming overpowered he got bored

This happens to a lot of games. He pays way too much money, gets to be the strongest in the server, and gets bored

He likes games where you can kill other people's troops and likes to watch as they lose all their power

I canon him as being borderline sadistic

This is why he's Sakata Gintoki reincarnated

White hair, sweet tooth, black leather clothes, dad vibes, never takes anything seriously bc when he does he's scary as fuck, the works.

He is Sakata Gintoki

He liked Gintama growing up. He watched a lot of iconic shows as they aired. He considers himself an og

He's hella bilingual

Because he's the strongest he goes overseas for missions a lot. Because of this he speaks a lot of languages and knows a lot about international cuisine

He takes pictures of himself eating disgusting foods like snails. He never likes them but he loves the idea of Nobara gagging back in japan

Has paperwork sitting untouched on his desk from three months ago that he will not touch for at least another three months

Does the crossword puzzles in the newspaper every week

Uses humor as a coping mechanism and it honestly just became a personality

Constantly popping his joints. I'm sorry if you find this gross I too find it gross.

Probably brought home every stray animal he ever met ever until he was at least like 22 y/o

Tags: @wasabito @kittaliapenn

#jjk #jjk spoilers #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons

962 notes · View notes

resident-leevil-old · 3 years

Text

okay well anyways somebody asked me if i felt like talking about my raccoon city survivors au with mia and ethan again and the answer is YES.

> AU MINI FACTS <

- Ethan's mother died while giving birth.

- Ethan Winters and his father moved into Raccoon City when Ethan was a baby, around 3-4 years old.

- Ethan trans ftm because im trans and i said so.

- Mia trans mtf because im trans and i said so.

- Ethan & Mia are childhood friend to lovers in this au.

- Ethan's father worked for Umbrella, and Mia's father worked for the Connections while her mother also worked for Umbrella.

- Mia was born in Texas, but her family moved to Raccoon City after she was born. They still owned property in Texas, though.

- Mia & Carlos are related because I said so.

- so yknow the "dude its been three years" guy? that's their childhood friend and his name is Kyde because i said so.

- Albert Wesker Personally was ordered by Spencer to kill those scientists btw.

- a lot of this au is because i said so tbh

> AU SUMMARY <

Ethan Winters, Mia Oliviera, and Kyde Wells work together to survive six days of the Raccoon City Outbreak. In the process they uncover secrets and encounter many obstacles that just nearly cost them their lives.

> CHAR.BGROUND <

ETHAN W, SR - A scientist who worked for Umbrella. He lost his wife during the birth of his child E///// Winters. Struggling with the death of his wife and the harsh decline of his mental health, he began to experiment with viruses and vaccines in an attempt to bring his wife back, even using his child as a subject at certain points due to the child having strong genes from the mother. He acknowledged that he was a horrid father, but justified his actions by claiming he would bring back a better mother. He thought of Albert Wesker as a friend, and told him the truth of his research.

ETHAN W, JR - A quiet 14 year old that had a hard time making friends. Due to experiments from his father, Ethan is a culmination of infections and viruses that each impact him in different ways. As he grew up Ethan refrained from talking too much as to not interrupt his father's work, causing him to become selectively mute.

MIA OLIVIERA - Younger sister of Carlos Oliviera. Mia skipped a grade due to her intelligence and advanced knowledge on many things kids her age normally didn't. She very easily got sick as a child, though she seemed to outgrow it as she got older. She was schooled both at home and at school before the outbreak. She shared classes with Ethan Winters (Jr) and Kyde Wells.

KYDE WELLS - A friend of Ethan & Mia, known for his cowardice. Kyde has a heavy sense of self preservation, but a weighted sense of compassion as well. He only ever has risked himself for his two friends.

JAMES HARISON - Mia's father. He worked for the Connections as a scientist and a researcher. Harison and his wife often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

MARISA OLIVIERA - Mia's mother. He worked for Umbrella as a researcher. Oliviera and her husband often exchanged information they learned from their jobs, aiming to and succeeding at "fixing" their daughter's proneness to viral sicknesses.

JAKE VERANO - An Umbrella worker who had been trapped in the underground facility for a week, listening to the sound of his coworkers being eaten alive. Unstable because of his experience, he tries to create a cure using the intel of Ethan W (SR).

> FULL AU <

[September, 25, 1998.]

Ethan Winters walked home from school when his father failed to pick him up. He walked through the streets, paying no mind to a big fight breaking out near him. On the way home, he meets up with his friend Kyde who had also been walking home. They talk and walk together for a bit, before splitting up.

When Ethan arrived home, he noticed the front door of his house had been opened slightly. Confused, but wary, he entered the house, knowing it was uncharacteristic for his father to forget the door was open.

He entered the living room, and found his father laying on the ground dead, shot twice in the head, having just been killed moments prior. Ethan moved over to his father, before Albert Wesker walked out of his father's office.

Ethan barely has much time to react to him, overwhelmed by his own panic and the death of the only adult in his life. Wesker - wanting no witnesses - shoots him three times in the chest, and leaves under the impression the child is dead for good.

Ethan Winters dies for the first time that evening.

[September, 27, 1998]

For the past two days, Mia and her parents have been barricaded in their home, unable to leave safely. Mia sat in her room for most of the time, unable to look out of the windows due to boards covering them. During those two days Mia tries to call Ethan and Kyde several times in hopes that they were safe. Neither of them answer.

Until this day, the 27th, at 2:00 am, when she calls Ethan. And he answers.

{TRANSCRIPT OF THEIR CALL:}

Ethan: h-hello?

Mia: [Ethan]! You're alive! Are you okay?

Ethan: I'm breathing. [Pause] I'm breathing. You okay?

Mia: I'm boarded up in my house, we can't leave safely. Everything is a mess. I'm so glad you're alive, [Ethan]. Are you safe? I'm guessing you're safe.

Ethan: Not sure. Not sure. Find you soon, here alone. Alone.

Mia: Alone? What happened? Where's your dad?

Ethan: [Pause.] [Loud sound in the distance.]

Mia: [Ethan]? Are you okay?

Ethan: [Dial tone.]

Mia speaks with her parents about the call, expressing worry about her friend. She spends a while trying to convince her parents that Ethan may be alive (purposefully omitting the dial tone) and need their help. Finally, they agree, and at 12 pm, they head out with all the resources they could gather.

Managing to stay out of sight, the family make it to the Winters' household. They find Ethan hiding in his bedroom, one infected laying in the hallway with a pole through its head and Ethan's father laying in the living room dead.

They rescue Ethan, and flee from the house. Mia's parents explain that they need to evacuate the city, but that they wouldn't be able to drive, so they'd have to move on foot. They returned to their house and rested for the night.

[September, 28, 1998]

The family and Ethan head out again, this time aiming to evacuate the city. After several close encounters with large groups of infected, the kids and Mia's parents are unfortunately separated. Given instructions by her parents, Mia leads Ethan through the city, having to take detours due to infected blocking pathways.

Eventually, during the night, they run into Kyde, who has lost his parents trying to escape the city. The three of them take refuge in an empty abandoned house, and rest for the walk in the morning.

Ethan sits up for a while, thinking about what happened to him, and trying to figure out how to explain it to his friends. Eventually he falls asleep, unable to figure it out. In the morning they head out again.

[September, 29-30, 1998]

During another detour taken due to large groups of infected, Ethan is kidnapped by a man in a white lab coat.

Mia & Kyde go after them, refusing to leave Ethan behind. They manage to find him after roughly half a day had passed.

Ethan had been in a hysterical state and through tears he explains to Mia and Kyde what had happened to him in his house a few days ago, confessing that he had died and revived two days later. He warns the two of them that whatever Jake, the white lab coat man, did to him, it made him dangerous and unstable.

Mia and Kyde refused again to leave him behind, and spend hours gathering information from files and research left scattered around. They manage to make Something that was able to calm him down and cleanse what they had learned had been called the "T-virus" from his body.

As soon as Ethan had woken up again, they fleed the facility, Mia & Kyde both making sure he didn't collapse on the way.

[October, 1, 1998]

They don't stop running when they're out. A broadcast goes out saying that the city will be blown up in four hours due to being unable to contain the outbreak. The three of them realize they won't be able to get out if they take anymore detours unless they find a vehicle with gas in it and a clear road to drive on.

Three hours later, out of options, nearly to the city boarder, and faced with another group of infected blocking the only straight shot out, they decide to risk a run through. However, just as they were pushing through, a helicopter flew overhead and spotted them. Calling to them, the pilot tells them to attempt making it up a building nearby if they could.

Through pure bullshittery and luck, they manage to make it up, and they board the helicopter. Just as it begins to take flight, the city starts to blow up bit by bit. In the distance, they see other helicopters flying.

> AFTER THE AU <

Mia and her parents reunite, her parents having managed to get out before the children did. Kyde goes to live with his relatives in Texas, and Ethan is offered to live with them as well.

Mia's parents move back to their texas home, and everyone who had been in the city were given therapy. Eventually the three grow up and graduate from highschool, and move on to other things, never once separating.

The three of them eventually move into a single house together in California, and some time after that Mia and Ethan get married. And for a while they live happily

And then, Mia witnesses Ethan having some sort of attack in the middle of the night one time, and realizes that he hadn't been completely cured of whatever had been infecting him in the city at all, and that it had only gone dormant for some years. While he wasn't vicious or attacking anyone, Ethan had just been really plagued and didn't even remember the fits that only seemed to happen every other night.

Out of worry and fear, Mia begins to work for the Connections, hoping there was something she could learn from them in order to help her husband finally be cured. And years after, RE7 began.

And THAT, my friends, is my Raccoon City Survivors au with the Winters, also known as Raccoon City Winters.

57 notes · View notes

yeojaa · 4 years

Text

“i love you.” read: 6:45 pm.

drabble inspired by this post that @hobi-gif tagged me in. i'm a sucker for misunderstandings, y'know? also, this is unedited and not proofread. xoxo

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. general. tags. a bit of dumb angst due to misunderstandings, some fluff to make up for it, mentions of drinking/alcohol, idiots in love. idk. wc. 1.9k.

“So, you’re shooting bourbon at 7:30 on a Wednesday why, exactly?”

How Yoongi manages to keep the judgment out of his voice, you’ll never know. Maybe it’s a bartender thing - some skill you acquire over time, like an achievement in a video game.

Charisma: +30 Listening: +20 Interest: 0

“Because he replied ‘hella’ when I told him I was in love with him.” You think if it weren’t so funny (and embarrassing and bruising to your ego), you’d have a hard time repeating it. Instead, it cuts off the edge of your teeth in a melodramatic wail and you knock back your fourth shot in not very long at all. It burns on the way down, igniting your insides in a very different way than you’d like.

Luckily, the bar is packed - it’s freshman night! - and your cry is lost in the crowd, eaten up by the awful din that seems to only exist in college bars. It’s only you and your favourite bartender that hear it and for that you’re grateful.

“You’re not serious.” From the look on his face, you know he believes you. Has to, because he knows the culprit behind your heartache.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” You deadpan before waving your liquor-laden wrist in a lazy circle. “Another, bar wench!”

It’s not that funny but between the alcohol that’s buzzing in your veins and lighting you up like a goddamn Christmas log to the humiliation that’s burning its way through all your sensibilities— well, you can’t help it.

You’ve always resorted to humour when you were hurting.

“I think you should slow down.” He means well - you can see it in the narrowing of his eyes, the way his mouth tilts just enough to make you feel like a kid in front of the principal - but you don’t want well. You want more. Need it.

For a split second, you feel a wave of emotion. It crests and threatens to swallow you whole, dragging you seven thousand miles beneath your own misery.

You swallow it down as best you can, tasting salt water and the sea when you tug a rough hand through your hair. It aches a little where your rings catch, threading silver through silk. “Yoongi, c’mon.” You ignore the way his name slurs out of your mouth, trapped between wet lips that don’t quite move like they should. “I’m fine. Please.” The desperate edge to your plea tells him enough - that you’re well on your way to having too good of a night, inebriation playing at the sidelines of your vision. You play it off and shift in your seat, sneakered feet kicking this way and that to right yourself.

To his trained eye, you’re about two minutes from slipping backwards off the worn leather stool.

“Can I call someone at least?” He’s meeting you halfway, begrudging and a little worried.

“I’m fine!” It shoots off your tongue, a rocket to the moon. You don’t want to come down.

He sighs once, a sharp inhale of breath through his nose. He’s got that look on his face - the one that tells you you’re going to owe him one. You think that might be better than returning to your dorm, empty-handed and heavy hearted.

“Please?”

Amber liquid finds itself in your shot glass again and you’re quick to snatch it up, worried that Yoongi might dump it the moment he has a chance to consider how he’s indulging you. You swallow it greedily, as if it isn’t pooling uncomfortable heat everywhere it hits - down your throat and around the sides of your mouth.

“Take it easy,” comes a voice - an achingly, devastatingly familiar voice - to your left. It steals your breath - tugs it out of your lungs in the same instant your heart heaves out of your chest.

Jeon Jungkook’s grinning that megawatt smile at you, dimples on full display. His hair’s a little damp and more than a little messed up, sweeping across his forehead in that way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. Shoulders are swathed in soft cotton and plaid, the navy blue and grey pattern a stark contrast to the blinding white of his tee shirt.

He looks so good you want to eat him up.

Instead, you jolt like you’re about to lose the contents of your stomach.

Hands - both his and yours - dart out. Yours grip the sticky booze-stained bartop; his seize your elbows, steadying you easily. You try to ignore the way his palms burn heat across your skin.

“You okay?” He says it so sweetly, as if he hadn’t just shattered your hopes and dreams into a million little pieces less than an hour ago. He says it like he always does, with affection painting his words and stars in his eyes. Even in the dim light, they’re mesmerizing, constellations swirling in his irises.

You have to make a conscious effort to tear your gaze away, redirecting your - admittedly fuzzy - stare to the speck of lint on his collar. It honestly doesn’t help much, because like this, you can see the trail of ink that drifts past his neckline. Swirls of black work that make up the roses that span his shoulders, capping each segment of bone prettily.

He repeats himself when your silence stretches too long for his liking, a tattooed finger rising to tap gently along the ridge of your jaw, thumb sweeping just so across your chin. “Hey, baby. You good?”

A part of you wants to live in the way that sounds. You’re a sucker for pet names and while you’ve heard this one once or twice (or a hundred times), it coils itself like a cobra around the organ in your chest, poised to ruin you. One wrong move and you’d be paralyzed on the ground.

“What’re you doing here?” You finally manage, tearing your roving eyes from the patterns you know lie beneath cloth.

It’s not the smartest move - because you’re distracted by his stupid handsome face again.

“Well, you didn’t answer my text so I got worried. Checked your Snapchat and saw you were here.” It comes so nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just discovered you drowning your sorrows in cheap whiskey.

“I didn’t answer your text?”

You can see Yoongi lingering at the edge of your periphery, hand paused around a glass that he’s in the middle of passing off. You wonder how crazy you must sound, or if you do at all. Maybe just pathetic? You don’t want to think about it too hard.

“You said ‘hella’ to my confession! What am I supposed to say back to that?”

“What’re you talking about?” It’s Jungkook’s turn to take the title of village idiot, big doe eyes widening to the size of saucers. You want to smack the expression off his face - would, too, if your heart didn’t also clench pitifully at the thought of hurting him.

You think he might be backtracking when he retreats a hairsbreadth, releasing you in the same moment his other hand dives into the front of his too-tight black jeans. The denim strains against his thighs, muscle and sinew flexing when he transfers his weight enough to allow him to yank his phone out of his pocket. Said device is in your face in the next instant, glaringly bright screen making you shy away.

Who the hell kept their brightness at 100%?

“Hey - look at this.” He sounds stern as he continues to wave the sleek black iPhone before your eyes, seemingly unaware of the fact that you can’t damn well see a thing with him constantly moving it.

“Stop!” You snap, finally, drink-addled hands snatching it out of his hands when he’s still twirling it like the most annoying wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man in existence.

With the phone in your own two hands, you peer down at the screen, trying to make sense of what you’re looking at. There’s definitely your last two texts - you cringe at the sight of them, blue bubbles bursting your own - but there’s a slew of others beneath it and they’re all delivered, the read receipt mocking you.

You nearly yeet the phone across the room when, after two or three read-throughs, you grasp what he’s said. “You want to date me?” The words fumble on their way out, knocking into each other in a way that’s equal parts drunk-girl and stupefied-crush.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He’s got that shit-eating grin of his lighting up his face, sweeping sunshine and daisies into every corner of his expression. It’s at complete odds with the way his mouth twists and turns, flat of his cheek rounded by the tongue he presses into it. You’re both awestruck and turned on all at once. You feel like you might short circuit or maybe that you already have.

It’s the only explanation for the way you’re surging forward - because you’d never do it otherwise, unless you weren’t in control of your own stupid body - and all but throwing yourself against him.

As if he anticipates it, he receives you like a bed you’ve been away from for too long, broad palms sweeping across the backs of your thighs as you cling to him like a koala. Your cheeks burn white hot and steeped in something - love, lust, a mixture of both - and you hum comfortably against the column of his throat. The sound is returned tenfold, echoing from his cavernous chest like the happiest cat in the world. It shakes your entire body, so closely pressed to him that you can feel every vibration that runs through all five feet, ten inches of him.

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?” His words lose themselves in your hair, breath warm against the shell of your ear as he squeezes you tight.

You give him his answer in the press of your mouth, parted and a little sloppy, more tongue and teeth than technique. You swallow the laugh that builds, devouring it like a kid in a candy store with the intensity of your adoration. “Hell-a yes.”

The way he grips you in response, laughter rolling off him in intoxicating waves - because you’d happily get drunk off the sound - fizzes excitement through your limbs.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Both of you know the answer to that question, the knowledge passing silently between you.

You smirk; Jungkook mirrors it. He surges forward for another kiss and you’re meeting him halfway, slanting your mouth greedily across his. He relents for the briefest moment - lets you savour the gentle brush of his lips, the soft pass of his tongue - before he’s taking all he can get. He’s licking over your teeth, laving hotly across every inch in a way that makes your head spin.

“Get a room!” It comes from your right, somewhere just behind you.

“We should take their advice, baby.” He coos, breaking away just enough for you to gulp in lungfuls of air. His lips are the prettiest shade of red, kiss swollen and slicked with spit.

At any other time, you might be ashamed - you can only imagine how you look - but here and now, fueled by the knowledge of reciprocated love and the pleasant warmth of liquor, you couldn’t care less. So you kiss the boy you love, eager and with hands trailing the expanse of his back.

“Let’s go.”

482 notes · View notes

playlistmusings · 3 years

Text

I was housed by your warmth, Thus transformed, By your grounded and giving

2,310 words

Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Set post The Queen of Nothing. Some fluff with about two teaspoons of angst because these two need to talk about their feelings. (title from Shrike by Hozier)

---------

Jude wandered back into the royal chambers, still reminding herself that they belonged to her now, that she was the High Queen, and it wasn’t some sort of sick secret between her and Cardan. It had been an eventful few weeks, between the battle and treaties being forged and going back to the mortal world when it was all over. All Jude wanted was to sit in bed and do nothing. It seemed funny, now, that the one thing she did her best to avoid during her exile—being sedentary and bored—was what she was longing for now. It was the first time in her entire life that Jude finally thought seeking out adventure and danger wasn’t worth the mental and physical exertion.

Lost in her thoughts, Jude tugged off her boots one at a time, then unloaded her weapons, daggers hidden in shoes and under pant legs and Nightfell, onto a table near the door in the antechamber. It was all oddly mundane, bringing Jude back to her days as seneschal and Shadow Queen, when she would return to her chambers after long days of meetings and Cardan’s schemes and pretending that she still hated him. Most of it was still the same, she did have far too many meetings with people who still didn’t see her as a strong queen—some because she was, after all, only human, others because they couldn’t see that 90% of the reason Cardan had avoided war and bloodshed for as long as he did was because of her ruling in secret for months—and she did still have to deal with Cardan’s schemes, however now they weren’t meant to break her down or push her away and when you can laugh with the person antagonizing you it changes the nature of things quite a bit. The last bit is different, though, because Jude doesn’t have to, nor wants to, pretend she hates Cardan anymore. Somewhere along the line, in between being pissed at him for exiling her and feeling more despair than ever at the moment she realized she would have to kill the serpent, unsure of what that meant for the man she loved, Jude realized it wasn’t worth pretending that she hated him anymore. Afterall, the whole court knew they were married, and Cardan knew how she felt, even if she didn’t actually verbalize it, and it just felt dumb to pretend to hate someone that she obviously cared so much about.

It was all a lot of feelings that Jude didn’t like thinking too much about, so instead she just let things happen as they did and didn’t analyze why she acted the way she did, lest she be forced to face some truths that she was steadfastly ignoring. She wouldn’t think about the way her heart fluttered when Cardan caught her eye from across the room during meetings with advisors and grinned before anyone paid him any attention. She wouldn’t think about the feel of his hand in hers when they would walk into grand rooms at the start of revels, of the way his hand reassured her and helped ground her. And above all else, Jude refused to think about the way she almost whispered decidedly romantic things into the dark of the royal chambers when she woke before Cardan and saw the peaceful look on his face while he reached out for her in his sleep. No. Jude refused to acknowledge it all, because she was never one for putting feelings into words and it all felt useless to say romantic things to someone after all she had been through. It wasn’t as if she’d never told Cardan how she felt, he knew she loved him, she had said as much, but something about saying out loud with abandon, without giving it proper weight, still felt foreign to her.

And thus, caused Cardan’s new favorite game— antagonizing Jude by being overly honest. Because, while Jude was perfectly, content leaving things unsaid and instead replacing them with actions that showed her feelings, Cardan was overly fond of saying how he felt over and over and over again—in vivid detail. Part of it was because he couldn’t lie, which to be fair, wasn’t exactly his fault, but it was mostly due to his new policy of refusing to evade Jude’s questions and being more honest with her than anyone else. It was quite the predicament, because Jude couldn’t leave so much unsaid and unacknowledged when Cardan wouldn’t hide a single thing he felt or thought.

Which all brought Jude back to the present, where she was pointedly ignoring the High King seated on a chair near the fireplace, watching her intently. He looked ready to say something, and Jude didn’t think she could handle any of his scheming before she bathed or at the very least was sitting down. Luckily, Cardan didn’t say anything, instead opting to gesture for Jude to join him by the fire with a wave of his hand. Jude obliged, softly padding across carpets to Cardan, before slipping into his lap. This was one of the few things Jude was actually not ignoring—she knew she wasn’t the best at being verbally affectionate, but something about soft touches and hugs alone in a room felt a lot less intimidating than vocalizing or working out her feelings, and if she was honest, after getting a taste of the mundane, affectionate ways that Cardan would press up against her when she was brushing her hair or trace her ear and jaw and arms with a featherlight touch while she read papers in bed, she didn’t think she could ever give it up. Right now, Cardan seemed content to hold her in his arms, albeit a little awkwardly because of the chair’s size, but he didn’t seem to mind, instead opting to pull her closer to him, resting his head on top of hers. She felt safe and content and another emotion she refused to name as a part of her valiant “Don’t think about how much you love Cardan in case you accidently turn into a romantic pile of mush” policy. Regardless, Jude thought she could stay like this forever, huddled in Cardan’s embrace in a room where the only sounds were the crackling fire and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Cardan, however, decided that he would not stay like that forever, and interrupted her peace with a whispered “Jude,”

She made a soft noise in response, already dreading whatever nonsense he was going to bring up.

“Jude,”

“What, Cardan?” It wasn’t a harsh question, but it definitely wasn’t the kindest voice ever used, revealing her exhaustion from the day.

“What are you thinking about?” Jude tensed, she knew he would eventually ask her this question, not to antagonize her, but because, as she’d learned over the past weeks, Cardan had genuine interest in everything she did and said and thought. Usually, Jude could say something vague about treaties or Vivi or Taryn and the baby, but right now she couldn’t think of anything but Cardan and warmth in her chest. She knew she could lie, but there was always some level of guilt brought on by outright lying to the one faerie she could trust to never mince words or disguise the truth through clever language. So instead of saying anything she froze, and she knew Cardan could feel it.

“I’m just asking because you seemed lost in thought since you walked in the door, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want.” As always, Cardan was almost a little too sweet, something that still caught Jude off guard after years of rivalry and spiteful interactions.

“It’s not that I don’t want to answer, I just, I don’t. I—” She cut herself off, what was she going to say, I just don’t want to say that I was thinking about how much I loved this, how much I love you, because I can’t handle emotional vulnerability so I made a pact with myself to never acknowledge that I love you out loud unless I have too because I don’t think I could process it? She was already decidedly ignoring the way she so easily said she loved Cardan in her thoughts, how in the world could she say that out loud? It felt absurd in the moment, like this was all some joke. She could lie to Cardan and herself and say she wasn’t thinking of anything and it’s no big deal, or she could go against the one rule she had been steadfastly following for months now and stop feeling like she was constantly hiding something. It was a harder choice than she would admit because the comfort of her routine was nothing compared to the comfort of Cardan’s embrace and after a long day a part of her yearned to just stop thinking and let go of all her worries, it wasn’t like Cardan didn’t feel the same or would be surprised by her feelings, in fact he seemed way too smug the first time she admitted how she felt out loud.

And so, in a moment of bravery—which in hindsight felt silly, she hadn’t been as worried in battles, when faced with death and destruction as she was in this moment—she said as loudly as she could bring herself to, “I was thinking about you. About how much I love you.”

The fire continued to crackle, something Jude forced her entire attention upon as she came to terms with her uncharacteristically honest confession. Unsurprisingly, Cardan responded quickly, “How fitting, I was just thinking the same thing.”

Jude felt the tension leave her body at his words, feeling foolish for worrying about any of this. She turned her face into his chest so she could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

“Really?” Her voice was soft and muffled in the fabric of his shirt.

“Always. You are entirely too distracting, my love. Even when I tried to convince myself to hate you, I was constantly thinking about how much I loved you.”

The words caused her breath to stutter, something about the offhand way Cardan could say things like that made her feel things she never imagined. He was truly gifted in getting under her skin in all the best ways, something she loved and hated at the same time.

“I hate you,” she whispered. “I hate that you just say things like that and expect me to do anything in response, it’s not fair at all.”

Jude could feel his smile as he a pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

“Well, do you want me to stop then?” His voice was terrible at hiding the smile that was taking over his face. “After all, I never want to cause you pain, and the last thing I want is for you to hate me.”

Jude hated him, hated that he could get under her skin like this, but refused to be the only one being antagonized in the moment, “No, you don’t have to stop. Perhaps I should just take a page from your book and be alarmingly honest. I could say that even though its not fair that you say things like that, I feel the same, that even when I am determined to ignore you, I get pulled in and love you a little more.”

It was his turn to startle, after all, Jude’s strength was just as much in how she lied and hid things as it was in her skills as a warrior. Her honesty had definitely caught him off guard and hearing her verbalize things like that was a complete rarity. She smiled into his chest, knowing she had the upper hand.

Cardan’s voice filled the air, “When you were gone, I felt like my heart was on fire, like I had everything I needed to survive, but nothing I needed to live. I don’t think I could manage without you.”

“When you were a serpent,” Jude could feel Cardan stiffen under her at the words, but continued on, “I thought about keeping you forever, because I don’t think I could live with myself if you were dead, even if that meant living with something that wasn’t truly you for the rest of my life.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. Jude’s vulnerability surrounding them like an unfamiliar blanket.

After a few minutes, Jude forged on, “I think that I was scared that you dying would prove that everyone I loved would leave me. First my parents, even though that wasn’t their choice, then Madoc betrayed everyone and Vivi left to the mortal world, and after all my struggles with her by my side, even Taryn betrayed me at one point. So, I thought that if you left, then that was it, that I was a curse, that loving people ended in disaster. Which saying out loud feels stupid, because none of it was my fault, it wasn’t like I pushed them to do any of those things, but when everyone you love leaves, things don’t really have to make sense in reality to make you scared of them.”

Cardan’s arms curled tighter around her body, “Well, I can promise you this: I will never leave you, nor will I ever make you leave me again. You don’t get a choice now, Jude, I’m yours, forever. There’s no one else, nothing else, that will ever matter more to me.”

The spark in her chest was back as she heard the words, filling every part of her tired body with energy as she tilted her head up to look at him. And in the warmth of his arms, she smiled and whispered, “I love you, Cardan, more than I could ever say.”

#jude duarte #jude greenbriar #jude x cardan #high queen jude #cardan greenbriar #prince cardan #cardan duarte #the cruel prince #the folk of the air #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #fluff #fanfic #some angst #talking about feelings #2k words #tfota fanfic #the folk of the air fanfic

44 notes · View notes

hoedameronsworld · 3 years

Text

The Beginning Of A New Chapter

Pairing: Obi-wan x reader

Word count: 5.9k

A/n: and here it is. Part two of ‘The End Of An Era. I’m so glad that you guys enjoyed my first story and thank you all so much for supporting me. I wasn’t planning on making a part three but I have a brief idea for another part of you guys want another part. Just let me know. Enjoy 😊

Summary: Sequel to ‘The End Of An Era’. You have now left the Jedi order and have begun setting up a life for yourself, while Obi-wan prepares to leave the order himself. You have agreed to keep the identity of the father secret until Obi leaves, however an incident with Padme and Anakin leaves you no choice but to reveal the truth.

Part one can be found here

{not my gif}

Obi-wan had never thought himself as the protective sort. Jedi weren’t allowed any personal belongings, so he had never had any reason to be protective over something. And then he met you. It was the battle of Geonosis and you had been asked to leave your mission in the outer-rim in order to aid the rest of the Jedi.

Obi-wan doesn’t know how to describe it exactly, but when he saw you, a short distance away from him, moving from one enemy to another, he just felt this surge of protectiveness rise within him. There was just some sort of … softness about you. Like you shouldn’t belong anywhere near the sight of battle and bloodshed.

And then you were using the force to propel yourself up into the air, flipping over him and landing easily behind him. He spun on the spot to watch as you slashed through one of the bug like creatures. And then you were looking at him, some of your hair falling into your face, your breathing harsh as you tried to catch your breath.

“Stay focused, or you will get yourself killed” was all you had said before you had disappeared back into the battle. Obi-wan was quick to realise that despite your appearance and the softness you had radiated, you had just saved his life and then told him off for being distracted. Of course you didn’t need any protection. You were a Jedi. You had trained your entire life to get to where you were, just as he had. You could protect yourself just fine.

Even after you had left the Jedi order to begin your life as a mother, Obi-wan knew that you could handle yourself perfectly fine. However, as your stomach grew to make room for your baby, the surge of protectiveness he had first felt had started to reawaken. A protectiveness for the small life form that you were holding. Because while you could protect yourself, your baby could not. And although it had not been born yet, Obi-wan already knew he would lay his life down for his child.

So, as you grew closer and closer to your due date, Obi-wan showed more signs of protectiveness. From not allowing you to leave your new apartment unless you had someone with you - to double checking that the door was locked each night.

Even now as you lay between his legs, your back pressed against his chest, Obi-wan has a hand rested securely over your stomach as he reads to you.

Obi-wan had long ago zoned out from what was going on in the book. Although he continued to read it aloud to you, he was too caught up in the comforting weight of you against his chest, of the way your breath softly fanned over his neck. He glanced down at you and felt like his heart was melting at the sight of you fast asleep. The sight of your head buried into the crook of his neck, your eyelashes softly brushing your cheeks, your lips slightly parted as you breathed. He smiled lovingly down at your form as he closed the book and placed it on the ground next to the couch.

“Maker, I love you so much, my darling” Obi-wan whispers gently, despite knowing you won’t be able to hear it. Sometimes he is just filled with so much love and adoration for you, he just can’t help but to blurt it out into the world.

You, of course, do not respond, however he feels a small kick against where his hand lay on your stomach.

“And I love you too, my little one” he whispers down at your stomach. The baby settles again at the sound of his voice.

Obi-wan looks across the small living room towards the clock. It’s getting late and he has to be up early in the morning in order to leave for a mission.

Obi-wan had still yet to leave the Jedi order. After you had told the news to him, he was ready to go in front of the council and leave right then. But he had listened to you as you reminded him that he was an incredible Jedi and that the war would be lost without him. He, however, wanted to be there for you and the baby, not on the other side of the galaxy missing the chance to watch his kid grow up. So, the two of you had come to a compromise. Obi-wan would remain at the Jedi temple until the baby was born. You rented out a small apartment in Coruscant that was near the temple. Not a single person was allowed to know the identity of the father until after he had left. Once the baby was born, the two of you planned to find a peaceful planet to settle down on.

Obi-wan carefully shuffled underneath you until he was in a position where he could pick you up. He carried you into the bedroom and lay you down onto the soft bed. You didn’t stir once. Obi-wan walked around to his side of the bed and as he climbed in, he heard the quiet murmur of your voice.

“Obi?”

“Yes, my love?”

“M’back hurts” you slurred.

“I’ll massage it for you, okay love?” He whispered.

“Thank you.” Your voice was so soft and quiet that Obi-wan almost missed it, but even if he had, he would have known that it was there.

He slides his warm hands under your baggy pyjama top and begins rubbing soothing circles over your lower back, where he knows it hurts the most. He hears your content sigh as you begin to drift back to sleep and he leans forward to place a kiss to the back of your head. He continues to rub your back until he too drifts off to sleep.

~>•••••<~

It was early. Too early. The sun had yet to rise, yet you were already up. Although, you were still in your pyjamas. Obi-wan needed to leave your apartment early in order to return to the temple before he left for his mission. You had awoken early so that you could share a small breakfast with him before he left. The two of you now stood by the front door as you said your goodbyes.

“I will just be a day or two, my love. When I return I will speak to the council about my leave with a few days to spare before our little ones arrival” Obi-wan spoke.

You just nod. To be honest, you didn’t like the idea of him leaving you when you were so close to your due date, your baby scheduled to be due in about a week and a half. It wasn’t like he was going far, just escorting a senator to the other side of the planet and he wouldn’t be gone for long. But, after this he would officially be giving up his life’s work of being a Jedi to start a life and family with you.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” He asks you softly. You look up at him.

“It’s nothing, Obi. I just feel slightly uncomfortable with you leaving so close to the baby’s arrival” you admit to him.

“I know darling. Perhaps you should spend the day with someone, that way you won’t feel so alone. I know Anakin has today off. It would be good for you to catch up with him again” Obi-wan suggests. You just hum in thought. He studies your face for a moment before he leans down and places a sweet, loving kiss on your lips. You melt under his touch and quickly return the gesture.

“I love you” you mumble against his lips. He just hums and gives you another soft kiss.

“I love you so much” he responds once the kiss is broken. You take a step back and smile up at him.

“Be careful.”

“For you? Always.” With one last smile, he slips out of your apartment.

You continue to stare blankly at the closed door in which he just left through. Sucking in a deep breath, you told yourself to calm down. Should you desperately need Obi-wan for something, he would only be a few hours away.

You return to your room and get dressed for the day before you reach for your comm to speak with Anakin.

“Ah, Y/n. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Anakin greets you as his image appears in front of you. You smile broadly at your friend.

“I thought it would be nice to spend some time with one of my favourite Jedi. Do you have any plans today?” You ask him. Although you know that it is his day off, Anakin was always up to something. He can never just sit still and relax.

“I am about to leave the temple in order to drop something off to Padme. I believe your apartment is on the way, if you would like me to pick you up. It would be nice to spend some time with both you and Padme” Anakin suggests.

You had never been very close with Padme, only knowing her because Anakin and Obi-wan were friends with her, however she was always very kind and respectful, and you enjoyed her company.

“That sounds nice. Will Obi-wan be joining us?” You ask, despite already knowing the answer. It helped keep your relationship a secret if it seemed like you now saw Obi-wan as little as you saw Anakin.

“Unfortunately not. He has to leave for a mission and won’t be returning for a few days.”

“Very well. It will just be the three of us.”

“Four if you count Anakin Jr.” A large smirk grew on Anakin’s face as he said this. Although you rolled your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile.

“For the last time, Anakin, I am not naming my baby after you” you say with a laugh.

“We’ll see” is Anakin’s reply before he disappears and the call is over.

~>•••••<~

You sat on a couch in Padme’s apartment, Anakin beside you and Padme on the seat in across from you.

“Padme, how are you going with trying to convince the senate to stop the production of clones?” You question, turning slightly in your seat to face her. She looks down at her hands for a moment before she responds.

“Not well. Many people are worried that it could lead to the separatists winning the war. I understand this fear, but if we keep manufacturing clones and the separatists keep making new droids, the war will never end” she says sadly.

“It is difficult. We can not have this war lasting several years yet we also cannot do something that could potentially aid the separatists in winning,” you place your hand gently on her shoulder. “I do not envy you politicians. You face difficult decisions everyday in order to better the galaxy.”

“Well you Jedi are no different. I have been apart of enough of your battles to know that things can go wrong very quickly. You have to make quick decisions on the spot, all while you know that there are lives on the line.”

“Sometimes it all just comes down to knowing when to fight and when to give up. We have to do what we can in order to protect as many people as possible” Anakin speaks up. As Anakin is speaking, you feel a small cramping pain in your stomach, however when you rotate to face Anakin, the pain disappears.

You smile at him.

“I suspect those are Obi-wan’s words” you say with a knowing smirk.

“And what makes you think that?” Anakin challenges, raising an eyebrow as he does so.

“Because I do not think you completely understand the term ‘give up’” you say with a chuckle.

“Yes, very funny” Anakin says with an eye roll. The three of you laugh and you take a moment to appreciate this moment.

Ever since the war had begun, moments like this - fun, relaxing, peaceful, happy moments - have been far and few and you have grown to cherish these moments, no matter how small they were.

Even now that you weren’t a Jedi, you still felt that these happy moments were strained. Even when you were with Obi-wan and everything is quiet and calm, there is always the over-arching sense of sadness and disaster that came with war. You felt that this is mostly because you aren’t going to be there to help put an end to this fight. You know that no matter where you and Obi-wan go, this feeling is going to follow you around until the end of the war.

The feeling came again. A small, barely there cramp that was gone in a matter of seconds.

“I have arranged for lunch to be brought to us. Shall we move to the table?” Padme spoke up once the laughter died down.

As the three of you ate, Anakin spoke of the recent mission him and Ahsoka had been on and how he had almost been trampled by a group of animals on the planet they had been on. Padme spoke of a meeting she has coming up with a fellow senator before the conversation turned to you and your pregnancy.

“Surely you can tell us now. Your almost due” Anakin tried to convince you to tell them who the father was. He would find out in a day or two anyway when Obi-wan returned. You just smiled and shook your head at his attempt.

“Nope. I’m not telling you yet” you said.

“Is there a reason why you won’t tell us? Or is it just to keep us all in suspense?”

“There is a reason, Anakin. However, to tell you this reason would be giving it away” you explain to him. Suddenly, Anakin’s face lights up.

“Is he a Jedi?” Anakin asks. You don’t respond straight away, just staring at him blankly. Honestly, sometimes it was easy to forget just how smart Anakin is. Padme places a hand on Anakin’s arm.

“Leave her be. They have their reasons for keeping it a secret. We can respect that and wait a week and a half for the baby to be born” Padme said. Anakin let out a childish huff but relented.

“What about baby names?” Padme asks. A particularly stronger cramp squeezes your stomach and you wince slightly. You place a hand on your stomach and wait for it to pass.

“Sorry, pregnancy pains” you explain once the pain passes. “I don’t know the gender. I have a few name ideas but I just figure that when I see the baby I will know what to name them.” Anakin stares at you for a moment before he speaks.

“Y/n…” he places a hand on your arm. “Is… does the father… want to be apart of the child’s life?”

You can’t hide the shocked expression on your face.

“What?” Is the only word you can find. You’re confused and shocked. What made Anakin come to this conclusion? Anakin and Padme share a look and you realise that this is something they had already discussed in private. Obi-wan had never mentioned this to you so you guess this is something they had kept between the two of them. “Anakin? Padme?” You ask them.

“It’s just… you keeping their identity a secret for the entirety of the pregnancy most likely means that he isn’t telling anyone he is a father, not even his own friends and family. Which is what some people do when they find out about an unwanted pregnancy” Padme tries to explain.

“And Jedi aren’t allowed to form any attachments and you’ve always been a sort of stickler for the rules. So we thought it might have been a one-night thing that led to this. And if this is the case, it would be likely for the father to have no interest in the baby” Anakin adds. You just continue to stare at them, eyes wide, mouth open in your confused and shocked stare.

“You also, when you talk about the baby or the pregnancy, only ever refer to yourself, not anyone else. Like before, you said ‘I don’t know the gender’ not ‘we don’t know the gender’ which could mean that you have already accepted that you will be facing this alone” Padme continues.

“We want you to know that you won’t be alone through this. Padme and I are more than happy to help out anyway we can. And I know that Ahsoka is really eager to meet the baby. And Obi-wan is your best friend, he will be by your side through anything” Anakin says soothingly.

“I… what?…” you stammer, trying to find the right words. They had out so much thought and effort into this theory, and had surprisingly found some strong reasons why this might be the case. You thought about what Anakin just said. About him and Padme happy to help out. About Ahsoka eagerly awaiting to meet your baby. About Obi-wan being by your side through anything.

Suddenly you felt angry and offended.

Because you already knew that Obi-wan would stay with you through anything. When it came to telling Obi-wan about the baby, you never felt the need to worry about him being upset or angry about the news. Because you knew that even if he was completely opposed to having kids, he would stay with you throughout it all. The thought of anyone thinking of Obi-wan as the type of person to leave you stranded and alone with a baby struck a nerve within you. Even though, neither of them could possibly know that it was Obi-wan they were talking about. That if they knew who the father was, they wouldn’t even be having these thoughts or this conversation.

“Of course the father wants the baby! Why would you even suggest that! If the father had left, do you not think I would tell you guys? There is a legitimate reason as to why his identity must remain a secret, one that you will understand when the time comes. I have been going against the order for over a year now to have a relationship with this man and although this pregnancy was an accident, we still remain in a happy, loving relationship. The only reason why I say ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ is because I have just grown so used to trying to hide the fathers identity for so long that it has just become habit. Are you satisfied?” You snap rudely at them. You glare at them for a moment before you abruptly stand from your chair, it scrapping across the floor harshly, and leaving the table. Your aim was to make it to Padme’s room or perhaps the bathroom, somewhere where you could just sit and calm your thoughts. However you only made it to the couch when you stopped, bracing yourself in the back of it as your water broke.

~>•••••<~

You were now laying on Padme’s bed. After your water had broken, Padme had instructed Anakin to call for a medical droid while she took you to her room and swapped your clothes for a clean dress of hers. Both Padme and Anakin sat side by side on the bed next to where you lay. Padme was taking note on the time between each contraction and Anakin was providing you with a hand to squeeze during particularly painful contractions. At the moment they weren’t too bad. You knew they would get worse as time went on. For the moment though, the three of you were just waiting for the medical droid to arrive.

“I’m sorry about your apartment, Padme” you said. She just smiled at you.

“Better it happened here with me and Anakin here rather than at your home by yourself” she said. You had to agree. You would be a lot more panicky if you were alone at the moment. You were surprised you were even this calm, yet the situation hadn’t quite sunk in for you just yet.

“Y/n… we know you’ve been wanting to keep this a secret, but you should really call the father. He will want to be here” Padme speaks up cautiously. You look at her and then at Anakin. She was right. You know Obi-wan would be devastated if he wasn’t here by your side when the baby was born. You nod in understanding.

“Of course” you say, moving to sit up slightly. Anakin places a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“Perhaps Padme or myself should talk to him. You need to rest” he says gently.

“No. I’ve got to tell him. You can meet him when he arrives” you say. Anakin looks down at you. By the look on his face he doesn’t think it’s a good idea but Padme speaks up.

“It’s ok Anakin. Let her talk to him. Just call us back in when you’re ready” she says. You nod and Anakin reluctantly hands you the comm before they exit the room. You take in a shaky breath and start the call.

~>•••••<~

While it hadn’t completely sunk in for you, the news hit Obi-wan like a x-wing straight to the chest.

He had just arrived at the hotel he would be staying at for the night. The senator he had been escorting had already reached their destination and had met with their security. The switch with time zones played with his head so he had decided he would spend the night on this side of Coruscant before returning home the next day. He had just placed his bag on the end of the small bed when he heard the beeping of his comm. He answered immediately and worry washed over him when he saw you in a bed.

“Obi, are you alone? I need you to come back. As quickly as you can” you said.

“What’s happened? What’s wrong?” He questioned, grabbing his bag again.

“The baby’s coming” you state simply. He can’t believe how calm you sound and look.

“You’re not alone, are you?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’m at Padme’s apartment with her and Anakin. A medical droid is on the way.”

“I might be a few hours, but I’ll be the soon” he said.

“Obi,” you say before he can leave. “I haven’t told them yet.”

“That’s ok. We can tell them when I arrive. I love you.” He hangs up, ready to rush out of the room and to start making his way back to you, however, his knees buckle underneath him and he sinks down onto the bed.

It’s happening. It’s finally happening. Obi-wan is finally going to be a father. He is filled with joy at knowing that in a few hours he is going to have a beautiful child with you by his side. But he is also filled with a nervous energy. He didn’t know how to be a parent. He can’t even remember his own parents. How is he supposed to raise a child without having had anyone to set an example and show him the way? He supposes that Qui-gon was a sort of father figure to him. And hadn’t Anakin once told him that he was like a father for him. Although he helped raise Anakin, in a way, that was about training a padawan. Now he is living and caring for his own.

He grabs his bag again and rushes out of the hotel. While he is nervous and unsure, what he does know is that you need him at the moment, so he will be there.

~>•••••<~

Anakin had begun to lose track of time. If anyone had asked how long it had been since you had called the father, he would not have been able to answer the question. He knew that the medical droid had showed up sometime after you had made the call. And sometime after that Ahsoka had come looking for him and had decided to stay with your group.

Anakin was surprised, originally, with how calm you seemed to be, but as the time passed and you got closer, you started to openly express your pain and fears. He noticed quickly that your most common worry was that whoever the father was would not make it here in time.

Currently Anakin was sat an the chair beside where you lay his hand held tightly in yours as you cried out in pain. Ahsoka and Padme were standing behind him, no longer sitting in the bed to give you your space.

Anakin had always looked up to you. Not only because you were one of his closest friends but because you were an amazing Jedi. He had always admired the steady control you had both when using the force and when in battle.

So Anakin was surprised when you reached out unintentionally with the force and accidentally shattered the vase that was on the bed side table. Anakin could hardly believe that you had lost your control and began to understand just how much pain you must be in. As your pain began to ease you spoke.

“S-sorry Padme” you groaned.

“No apology needed” Padme responded.

“Ani… need more ice chips” you panted to him. Anakin nodded and pulled his now red hand out of your slackened grip. He picked up the cup and saw that it was empty.

“I shall get a droid to fetch some more” he explained before standing and leaving the bedroom. He opened the door and was surprised to see Obi-wan on the other side, looking frantic and panicky.

“Obi-wan? What are you doing here?” Anakin spoke in his shock.

“Y/n called. Of course I’m going to be here for her” Obi-wan explained as if it were completely obvious. And while it would be completely obvious to anyone else, it was unlike Obi-wan.

Obi-wan followed the Jedi code right down to the last T. The code said that attachments are forbidden, so the friendship their group had constructed had been towing the line. But the fact that Obi-wan had abandoned his mission in order to return here was just so unlike himself.

“But your mission-“ Anakin began but Obi-wan interrupted him.

“It’s done. I was planning on staying the night but I came back early,” he spoke quickly, “is she in here?”

“The bedroom.” Before Anakin had even finished speaking Obi-wan had pushed past him and rushed into the bedroom and out of Anakin’s sight. Anakin stared after him for a moment in confusion before he remembered the task at hand and went to find a droid.

When Anakin returns, ice chips in hand, Obi-wan has taken his spot by the bed, your hand now squeezing his. Anakin doesn’t know how to describe the look Obi-wan is giving you. His face is written with multiple emotions. He sees concern and worry, love and adoration, fear and questions. Obi-wan is expressing all his emotions and yet, Anakin has no idea what he is feeling. Anakin hands you the cup and you gratefully take it from him.

As your face scrunches up in pain, Obi-wan leans closer onto you.

“Shh, just breathe” Obi-wan says softly to you. “Just take a nice deep breath. Now let it go. Keep going. You’re doing very well.” Anakin stands by Padme and Ahsoka. Ahsoka looks up at him with a face of slight horror.

“I’m never having kids” she declares. Padme laughs at this.

“I need everyone out now please” the medical droid speaks up. Anakin nods and leads Ahsoka and Padme out of the room. The door closes behind them and they make themselves comfortable in the sitting room. Anakin looks around.

“Wait but Obi-wan is still in there” he points out. Padme sits beside him.

“He’s her best friend and the father hasn’t shown up. You can’t expect her to go through this alone” she says gently. Anakin doesn’t respond, just furrows his brow in thought.

~>•••••<~

Obi-wan was the perfect person when it came to soothing you. Without you needing to tell him, he seemed to know exactly when he needed to be close and when he needed to give you space. He knew what to say and when to say it. He knew when he should gently touch you and when to keep to himself. All without you needing to instruct him.

It wasn’t long until you were slumping back into the pillows behind you, the soft cry of your child’s first breaths filling the room. Obi-wan remained at your side, however he could not take his eyes off of your baby.

“It’s a boy” Obi-wan whispered softly. You were tired and exhausted and just about to pass out, but you couldn’t help but smile. Smile at the beautiful baby boy that was your son, and smile at the look of absolute wonder on Obi-wan’s face.

You squeeze his hand gently, not in pain, but as a gesture of thanks. This seems to bring his attention back down to you. He gives you a bright, beautiful, loving smile. You tiredly return the gesture. The droid excuses himself to clean your son. Your son. Such a wonderful yet weird thought. You are officially a parent.

“You did so well. Thank you, love” Obi-wan murmurs, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you? Why you thanking me? Last I checked, you’re the reason why I was pregnant in the first place” you whisper, trying to stay awake. Obi-wan chuckles.

“I believe it was a joint effort, darling.”

The droid returned and carefully handed you your baby.

“I shall return in the morning with a transport to take you to the hospital for routine check ups. For now, I will give you two some space with your son. Would you like me to inform your guests that they may enter?” The droid asks. Obi-wan looks at you.

“It’s up to you. If your too tired they can wait” he says.

“No, let them in. Even if it’s just for a few minutes” you say, staring down at the small baby in your arms. “Thank you,” you say to the droid as it leaves. You spend another moment just admiring your son, and you can feel obi-wan doing the same from beside you.

“You have any name ideas?” At that moment Anakin walked into the room, followed closely by Padme and Ahsoka.

“How ‘bout naming him Anakin” Anakin suggests. You give him a tired but bright smile. I’m not naming my son after you Anakin” you respond with a laugh.

“Name him after Obi-wan then” Anakin says. Obi-wan makes a face.

“I’m not naming my son after myself” Obi-wan comments naturally.

Each reaction is priceless. Padme snorts. Actually snorts and she hides her laughter behind her hand. Ahsoka’s eyes widen but she quickly recovers and begins laughing at Anakin’s reaction.

Poor Anakin has gone into shock it appears. His mouth has dropped open and his eyes are wide. As he tries to process this news, his mouth opens and close like a fish’s, trying to form words yet failing spectacularly.

You can’t help but giggle a little at his reaction and even Obi-wan chuckles a bit. Now that they have been told, Obi-wan sits next to on the bed, wrapping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you down to lean against his chest. He carefully runs his hand over his sons head, seeming as if he is almost afraid the boy will break if Obi-wan isn’t as gentle as possible.

“But… how- Obi-wan wouldn’t …” Anakin manages to splitter out. He doesn’t finish his sentence, seeming to have ran out of words.

“I have to admit, it took me a long time before I gave into my feelings, but when I did I worked hard not to let them impact my choices as a Jedi” Obi-wan says. You try, and fail, to stifle a yawn. The exhaustion of giving birth taking its toll on you. Obi-wan places a kiss on the top of your head and for a moment you feel a slight panic at him doing the gesture in front of people. You guess it will take a while for you to get used to the relationship no longer having to be hidden.

“You need some rest, my dear” he says.

“Mmm, so do you” you mumble, closing your eyes.

Padme places her hand in Anakin’s shoulder and guides him out of the room while telling him we can discuss it more tomorrow. Ahsoka goes to follow them but she pauses at the door.

“If I may suggest a name, I believe he looks like an Oliver” she says. You open you eyes and look down at the baby in your arms.

“I like that,” you shift your gaze to look up at Obi-wan. “What do you think?”

“Our little Oliver” he says, confirming the name choice. Ahsoka smiles and bows her head before closing the door softly behind her. Obi-wan moves from beside you, taking Oliver out of your arms so he can hold his son for the first time. You shuffle around until your lying down in a comfortable position. Obi-wan just remains standing next to the bed, staring in wonder at the sleeping Oliver.

“Obi” you mumble weakly, sleep already beginning to take you. “You need to sleep as well.” You close your eyes and listen to the sound of Obi-wan walking around the room. You feel him lay Oliver beside you before he climbs into the bed himself. You grab his hand once he has settled.

“Get some sleep Obi. Maker knows when we will get a full nights rest again” you say. He chuckles but doesn’t say anything in return. Although you are barely conscious, you force yourself to remain awake. Obi-wan’s force signature is projecting nervousness and you can tell he is debating something with himself.

“Obi? What’s wrong?”

There’s a pause.

“Nothing dear. Get some sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping until you tell me.”

You can’t find the strength to open your eyes so you lay in the silence as you wait for him to find the right words.

“It’s just… somewhere in all this, we skipped a very important step…” he begins but trails off again.

“And that is?”

“I can’t yet completely call you mine” he says somewhat hesitantly. Your confused, but you don’t say anything, waiting for him to explain himself.

“What I mean by that… is… I would… I would like to be able to call you my wife.” With each word he says his voice gets quieter and softer with nerves. You finally find the strength to open your eyes. You find his brilliant blue gaze already on you.

“Are you proposing to me, Obi-wan Kenobi?”

“I guess I am, Y/n Y/l/n” he says, sounding slightly more confident. You carefully tilt your head towards his, making sure not to knock Oliver and place your lips on his.

The kiss is soft and warm and loving, and filled with all the possibilities of the future for your new family. When you break apart, you keep your head where it is, softly brushing Obi-wan’s.

“It would be an honour to call you my husband” you say softly. Obi-wan smiles.

You drift off to sleep with a smile on your face, your son lying next to you, and your hand entwined with your-husband-to-be’s.

#obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan fluff #obi wan x reader #padme amidala #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine #fanfic #fanfiction

77 notes · View notes

creative-type · 3 years

Text

wake from death (and return to life) ix

AO3 first summary: Zoro had always been told Kuina died falling down a flight of stairs. But she didn’t fall, and she wasn’t dead.

It took Kuina almost five minutes of dangling over the rails of the ship to realize there was no wind. She was punch-drunk and giddy, the weight of uncertainty rolled off of her shoulders now that she had a clear path forward. She was a Revolutionary. She was going to be the greatest swordsman in the world.

Kuina allowed herself those five minutes. With everything she’d gone through in the last week and a half she’d more than earned them, and it had been so long since she’d felt any real excitement for her future. But no swordsman worth their blade would let themselves get lost in childish emotionalism. Kuina steadied herself with a few deep breaths, mentally drawing in the flights of fancy that had momentarily escaped from her imagination—daydreams of facing Dracule Mihawk at the behest of the Revolution, of proving once and for all that she could do what so many thought impossible, of reuniting with her father and Zoro proudly bearing the title Greatest.

It was like trying to wrangle a gaggle of unruly children. The more Kuina struggled to contain herself the more her imagination tried to run free, but she managed to settle back into the state of tranquil serenity that was more befitting of her training. The practical side of her, the part that quietly disapproved of this most recent turn of events, knew that now that she’d painted the broad strokes of her future it was high time to figure out what the hell Aria de Gris was doing now. It was then, and only then, that she noticed that the air was unnaturally still.

The sailors around her were not perturbed even as the Valor’s sails hung limp from their moorings. Kuina could feel that they were moving on the clear, mirror-flat sea. Slowly, but that was better than being dead in the water. Kuina wandered to the ship’s bow, noting that the Valor was sailing almost due south. If the Revolution had followed the same heading since leaving Tolouse, and Kuina had been unconscious for two full days, that meant…

“Don’t worry, we should be out of the Calm Belt by the end of the week.”

Kuina flinched, sword half-drawn before realizing it was only Dara using what had to be the most annoying Devil Fruit ability in the history of the world. Dara laughed as she popped out of the deck, hooking her thumbs in her pockets as Kuina shot her a glare.

But most of Kuina’s irritation was at herself for letting herself be caught by surprise, and she returned her attention back to the water. It was impossible to sail through the Calm Belt without some sort of engine, which the Valor lacked, to say nothing of the danger presented by the innumerable nests of sea kings that buffeted the Grand Line from the Four Blues.

Even as Kuina tried to wrap her mind around it, a dark shadow emerged from the depths directly in front of the ship. A high-pitched, eerie wail, almost like a siren’s song, reverberated through the air and deep into Kuina’s chest.

A monstrous head breached the surface so close to the Valor it sent rippling waves across its hull. Sprays of water jettisoned thirty feet into the air, exposing only part of a stripped, misshapen body before submerging once more. Great flukes, as large as a whale, but covered with algae-like strands of hair, slapped against the surface of the sea and sent sprays of salty water against the deck. Someone in the crow’s nest above whooped out a cry of encouragement.

Thoroughly confused, Kuina looked at Dara, whose grin only widened as she pointed to a tiny speck bobbing to the space recently vacated by the leviathan. “Oh look, there’s Cam. Someone should send a boat after her.”

“As if she’d take it!” a Revolutionary Kuina didn’t recognize shouted from across the deck.

“True,” Dara said contemplatively. Beckoning Kuina to follow, she meandered to the starboard side of the deck and loosened a rope ladder into the sea. “It’s probably faster to just let her swim.”

If Kuina hadn’t been so amazed by the fact Camille hadn’t gotten herself eaten, she would have marveled at the speed with which she cut through the unnaturally-still sea. Kuina considered herself a good enough swimmer, but Camille looked like she’d been born for the water. She moved like she was part fish, each stroke strong and graceful, returning to the Valor in moments. When she climbed back onto the decks she seemed sad to be there, looking back longingly at the water.

“So, how’s Fin?” Dara asked.

“Good, good. I adjusted the harness to fit more comfortably.” Camille arched an eyebrow at her friend while adjusting a leather thong around her neck, from which hung the biggest tooth Kuina had ever seen. “And his name isn’t Fin.”

“Well since you haven’t said what his name is, you’ve left me no choice but to improvise,” Dara retorted. She nudged Kuina in the ribs. “Can you believe she went through the effort of taming a sea king and then didn’t name it? ”

“You tamed a sea king?” Kuina said. “ How? ”

Camille rolled her eyes. “I didn’t tame anything. We’ve just...reached an understanding.” She gave Kuina an appraising look. “I’m surprised the doctor let you out of her grasp so soon.”

“She almost didn’t,” Kuina admitted.

Dara wrapped an arm around Kuina’s neck, ignoring the choked yelp of alarm and Kuina’s efforts to squirm free. “Forget about that! Did you hear, Kuina joined up. She’s officially one of the team!”

“I thought that was a given.” Camille said, utterly disinterested as she wrung the excess water from her shirt.

“When did you hear that?” Kuina said at the same time.

“Pfft, Dara knows pretty much everything on this ship,” Camille said. “You get used to it.”

Kuina frowned. She didn’t like the idea of someone with Dara’s ability nosing her way into business that wasn’t her own. If there was anything she’d learned since sailing with the Revolution, it was that there was very little in the way of privacy while at sea. Ships crowded everyone together, crewmates eating, sleeping, and working in close proximity. While the forced closeness had its advantages, Kuina was used to spending great blocks of time alone. It was something to get used to, and to be wary of.

“Don’t worry, your secrets are safe with me,” Dara said, tweaking the end of Kuina’s nose. “You saved me from losing five hundred berries, and to Lizard of all people. I am at your service.”

It took Kuina a moment to remember Dara’s ill-thought wager with Elizabeth, and before she could voice her protest Dara had taken her by the arm to make official introductions to the crew, Camille laughing a half-step behind.

There was John the cooper, and James the blacksmith. Among the deckhands Kuina was introduced to rapid-fire were Kojo, Zhao, Lin, Char, Sean, Jen, and Tiva, and by the end of it she had gotten them so thoroughly confused with one another she had no idea which one was which. Others were working belowdecks, or off-shift and resting.

Elizabeth was still regretfully in charge of cooking duties, while Lyudmila was the ship’s quartermaster and second in command. Kuina was surprised to hear that in addition to taming sea kings in her spare time, Camille was the crew’s navigator.

“And what is it you do?” Kuina asked as Dara dragged her back below decks for the grand tour.

“Get newbs like you up to speed. Now here’s Trini’s room��try not to get stuck in here unless you want to spend the afternoon feeding lettuce to snails.”

Kuina blinked in amazement. The communications room was packed full of terrariums housing snail phones of every size and color. At its center was an enormous machine that looked vaguely like what the marines used to send their faxes, with thin cords attached to half a dozen den den mushi. Behind the machine sat Trini wearing an oversized pair of headphones, deep in concentration.

“She’s scanning the airwaves,” Dara said in an exaggerated whisper, carefully closing the door once more. “Not that there’s much to intercept in the Calm Belt, but you never know with the marines these days.”

“The marines can cross the Calm Belt?” Kuina said. “I can barely believe we’re crossing the Calm Belt!”

“It’s all thanks to Fin. Sea king bulls don’t typically fight with one another unless it’s mating season, so even if he’s pulling along a tasty treat we should be all right. I think his song has something to do with it, too.” She made an exaggerated gesture. “As for the marines, I have no freaking clue, but it must be a pretty new development since Boss doesn’t know about it, and the Valor isn’t sea-king proofed either.”

“That’s right, this was a marine ship,” Kuina murmured, looking up at the planks with fresh eyes. It was funny, without the marine’s distinctive painted hulls, she’d never would have been able to tell the difference.

“Oh, yeah. Came with all the amenities, which is how Trini got her state of the art snail room.”

“So if you guys had a sea king snuck up your sleeve this whole time, why didn’t you use it during the battle?” Kuina asked. “A monster that size would have been useful on Tolouse.”

“Ach, must everything be about fighting with you?” Dara said. “You must never have seen a real sea king, but Fin’s practically a baby, not even half-grown. And it’s surprisingly smart—for all my teasing, Cam was right. The thing has a mind of its own and acknowledges no master. I don’t think we could get him to attack a ship if we wanted to.”

“But he’ll pull a ship through the Calm Belt?” Kuina said.

“It’s better than going the long way around, eh?” Dara said with a shrug. “Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

At the barracks, Kuina had her choice of seven open bunks. One, which happened to be closest to the door, had a small crate propped on top of the thin mattress. Inside was stuffed with clothes and basic belongings. When Kuina looked askance at Dara the light in her eyes dimmed.

“That’s Danny’s stuff,” Dara said. “The rest who died already have their things stowed for when we get back to base, but as far as any of us know she doesn’t have any family so we’re not really sure what to do with hers. I’d say for you to take the clothes since you don’t have any, but I don’t think they’d fit.”

Kuina drew her fingers over the box, trying to think if she’d said anything about any family in their short time together, but all she remembered her mentioning was an apprenticeship under a cruel master. Kuina’s throat tightened as the memory of Danny screaming hysterically echoed in her mind unbidden.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Dara rubbed her neck uncomfortably. “It happens. I already told Boss when I bite it to sell all my stuff and use the money to have a party. If you all can’t be happy, at least you’ll be drunk.”

“I don’t drink,” Kuina said.

“Then you and Mila can be mopey together,” Dara said with determined cheerfulness. “It won’t matter to me, I’ll be dead. Now, where do you want to be? I’d be careful about that middle one there, it’s next to Lizard, and she snores terribly. ”

Kuina took the hint, and changed the subject, trying not to wonder how many of the bunks available to her had only emptied after the battle of Tolouse.

After the tour came lunch, and with two solid, if not especially tasty, meals under her belt, Kuina was beginning to feel more like herself again. The itch to train was back, and Kuina wanted nothing more to test the limits she’d recently expanded and chase after the high of battle, but much like her time on Belo Betty’s ship she was first subjected to the humiliation of being the newest and lowest-ranking sailor on a large and understaffed warship.

“You’re kind of shit at this, aren’t you?” Camille observed from her perch at the ship’s bow, watching as Kuina ran her mop over the deck for what felt like the hundredth time.

“You could help,” Kuina said.

“And deprive you of the opportunity to learn? Never.” She gave a long, catlike stretch. “By the way, you missed a spot.”

Kuina muttered an oath as she stabbed the mop into the bucket. “It isn’t as if it’s dirty.”

“Water expands and seals the wood, salt protects against rot.” Camille yawned, as if bored by the conversation, and wandered back to their useless rudder. As she passed Kuina, she said, “If you want to live in a drippy, softwooded ship, be my guest. As for me, I’d prefer not to die the first time a Grand Line squall hits.”

She left Kuina with her head bowed and cheeks burning. But the words had their intended effect and Kuina redoubled her efforts, determined from that point on that no one could in good conscience reprimand her sailcraft ever again.

It was nearing dark when de Gris and Lyudmila emerged from the captain’s quarters to call a meeting with the crew. After a long day of labor, Kuina’s muscles ached and she yearned for the sweet respite of bed. And it wasn’t as if the work had been taxing, especially after Clara Cross emerged from the infirmary like an avenging angel to tell off the entire crew, but especially Kuina, for overexerting herself.

There were some things not even Devil Fruit magic couldn’t sweep under the rug, and apparently the exhaustion of a near-death experience was one of them.

“All right everyone, gather round!” de Gris yelled. “Watchmen too! There aren’t any ships out here, and if the sea kings come after us we’re fucked anyway. I want everyone to hear this. Where’s Trini? She can leave the damn snails for ten minutes.”

The crew scrambled to obey the order. Kojo (or maybe Sean) went to gather those who were still belowdecks. Minutes later everyone was assembled in a loose circle around the main mast, with de Gris at the center. She paused a moment to ensure everyone was paying close attention, and under her stern gaze the idle chatter vanished into deathly silence.

Rays of dying light cast against de Gris’s back and framed her face in deep shadow. “I know you all have been wondering lately why the hell we were called to the East Blue so suddenly, and why we’re leaving just as quickly. I’ve heard you lot asking where our next destination was and wonder why I’ve not said where we’re going once we hit the Grand Line. Well, the answer’s simple. Until today, I didn’t know.”

From the folds of her coat, she pulled out an old and crumpled sheet of paper. Kuina squinted her eyes and was just able to make out the blurry picture of a masked figure. The bounty underneath, however, was clear as the sky above. Master-at-Arms Gemini, Wanted Dead or Alive. Bounty: B48,000,000.

Beside her, Dara snorted. “Oh, I bet the marine who thought up that name thought he was very clever.”

It was difficult to tell much from the photograph, but the one detail that was absolutely clear was Gemini’s strange, double-segmented arms, too long for an ordinary human and vaguely insectile. Kuina, who’d never seen anything like it before in her life, wondered what it would be like to fight someone who essentially had two elbows.

She brushed the thought away and turned to Gemini’s face. Their mask, fittingly enough, was divided vertically into halves, one dark and one light. The side that was dark was completely bereft of ornamentation; Kuina couldn’t even make out an eyehole to see out of. The side that was light, however, was painted with a garish grin. A shock of wiry black hair fell past their shoulders, but beyond that it was impossible to discern any identifying features. Baggy clothing and the poor quality of the photograph obscured anything else, even gender, and after spending this much time under de Gris's command, Kuina knew better than to assume.

“Gemini is a prominent figure in the criminal underground,” de Gris continued. “Arms dealing, drug trade, slavery, the whole lot. Removing them from the equation will make the world a safer place.”

“What’s an arms dealer got to do with the Revolution?” someone to Kuina’s right called. “And what have they got to do with the East Blue?” A murmur of agreement rippled through the crew.

“Enough!” de Gris bellowed, silencing them once more. “Tolouse's government were slavers, that much is now clear. They called it political exile to a labor camp, but the end result is the same—the World Government gave the king kickbacks for human chattel, using the Callihan Trading Company as a middleman. And we now now that the CTC was taking orders from Gemini. If Gemini is willing to go through so much effort to set up a scheme in some East Blue backwater, who knows what other fingers they have stuck into various pies around the world.”

“So we’re going after them,” Camille said, crossing her arms across her chest.

“That's right. So far Gemini has been able to stay one step ahead of us, but with the intel gathered on Tolouse we have the upper hand.” De Gris marched to the mast. In one smooth motion she drew a dagger hidden in her boot, and stabbed the bounty deep into the wood.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to Kyuka Island. In the days ahead I’ll be divvying out assignments. Any questions are to be directed toward Lyudmila or myself—out of an abundance of caution, you’re not to discuss your orders with anyone else on this ship. I’ll keelhaul anyone who tries.” At this her gaze went directly to Kuina, who got the impression these instructions were given strictly for her benefit. "Kyuka is marine territory through and through. I pray none of us fall into Government hands, but if we do, it's safest for the Revolution that each individual knows as little as possible about our plans."

After a pause, and hearing no objections, de Gris lit a cigarette for herself. “I’ll pay anyone who finds any intelligence on Gemini that leads to their capture or death the full value of their bounty. I’ll pay double to anyone who brings me their head. This chase has gone on long enough, I want this bastard dead. ” She flicked a bit of ash off the end of her cigarette and added, almost as an afterthought, “Dismissed.”

A gap in the circle opened to let de Gris through. As she passed, she grabbed Kuina by the shoulder. “Come on, greenhorn. It’s time we sort out your position on this ship.”

For the second time that day Kuina was led to the captain’s quarters. De Gris’s desk had been cleared away, the sea charts rolled back into their proper places and ashtrays emptied. Kuina slid back into a chair that smelled like tobacco. “What is it? Does the Revolution have Articles of Enlistment for me to sign? Is there a manifesto I’m supposed to study?”

“Don’t be stupid.” The sun had almost dipped below the horizon, and de Gris found a box of matches to light a kerosene lamp. The orange flame danced on its wick and flickered with the natural roll of the ship. “I’m told Dara gave you the runaround today.”

Kuina nodded.

“Clara never came screaming at me, so I have to assume you’re not feeling too poorly,” she mused, taking the time to light another cigarette.

“I’m fine,” Kuina said, rolling back her shoulders so de Gris couldn’t see the weariness in them.

“And have you taken that sword out of its sheath even once today?”

“Uh...no?” Kuina said.

“Unacceptable.” De Gris leaned back in her chair and let out a long stream of smoke. “You’re not some swabby or rigging monkey, you’re here because of your blade.” She looked at Kuina as if she were an idiot for not realizing this sooner.

“I’m willing to work just as hard as anyone else on this ship,” Kuina said stiffly.

“And you will. Harder, even, since you’re so far behind. But a ship is like…” She gesticulated, trying to find the right word. “It’s like a person. A crew is its own organism, and every one of us has to fit into their part. You don’t expect a heart to do the same work as a kidney, and no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to be half the sailor as the people who’ve spent their whole lives on the water. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise.”

Kuina nodded. What she said made sense, and in many ways Kuina agreed with her. But there was something about agreeing with Aria de Gris that didn’t sit right with her, so she said, “I have to learn sometime.”

“Obviously. I’m not about to let you be a liability once we hit the Grand Line, but there has to be balance. You’re no good to me if you get yourself killed because you spent too much time studying the different types of sails instead of your swordsmanship.” De Gris was pensive for a moment. “I’ll have Mila set up a schedule for you in the morning. Half the day working chores, the rest training. A few of my men use katana, but you’re better than all of them. Most of what you’ll do will have to be self study.”

“That’s fine. I haven’t had a master in years.”

De Gris looked surprised to hear this, but didn’t comment. “We have regular sparing times as well, to help our less practiced fighters build their skill, and to give the mainliners a chance to get used to each other's styles. Depending on how this all shakes out, you might be pairing with Dara or Camille for the upcoming mission. Do you know how to use a gun?”

“Of course not,” Kuina said, caught off-guard by the question.

“Then you’ll learn.” De Gris cut off Kuina’s protests before they could begin. “Can you kill someone at twenty yards with your sword?”

“No,” Kuina said mulishly.

“Then you need to know how to fire a gun, and probably keep one on you as a backup weapon. I have no use for senseless pride on this ship, girl,” she said as Kuina scrunched her nose in distaste. It’s your job to listen to what I say, and it’s my job to try and put you in a position to not die. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Kuina said, still unhappy at the prospect of sullying her hands with a firearm.

Without warning, de Gris pounded her fist on her desk. The kerosine lamp tottered and threatened to fall, but her eyes never left Kuina’s, the scar on her cheek pulled taunt with her scowl.

“I said. Do. You. Understand ?”

“And I said yes, ” Kuina snapped. “I’ll learn to use you’re stupid gun, and when I figure out how to kill someone at fifty yards with my sword I’ll drop kick it into the ocean where it belongs." She crossed her arms across her chest. "I already told you I’ll do what you say so long as you don’t interfere with my ambition, so there’s no need to treat me like a child.”

They glared at one another for a long while, hackles raised, but this time Kuina refused to let herself be intimidated into backing down. Slowly, still without breaking eye contact, de Gris eased back into her chair and doused her cigarette. “I have put too many people’s belongings into boxes because they wouldn’t listen. For your own sake, I hope you’re not one of them.”

For the second time that day, memory of Danny's last words echoed in her mind. “You’re in luck, because right now I don’t own enough stuff to fit into a box, let alone anyone to send it to.”

“No one at all?” de Gris said, eyebrows raising.

Kuina’s breath hitched as she thought of her father back at Shimotsuki village. Would the Revolutionary Army be able to return her meager belongings home without the marines knowing? Would he be able to stand knowing she’d joined Dragon’s cause despite all his warnings? What about Ipponmatsu? He at least wasn’t under suspicion by the World Government...Or was he, now that she’d attacked Tashigi?

Of everyone she knew, it was probably safest to give her belongings to Zoro , but gods only knew what part of the Grand Line he’d found himself in. She almost laughed at the thought of him using two of her swords for himself.

“No one,” Kuina said. Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging crescent moons into her palms, but she kept her voice calm and her tone even.

After another heartbeat of painful silence, de Gris said, “Well, you’re not the only one." The words were probably meant to be reassuring, but Kuina felt they were anything but. “If you think of anybody, make sure someone knows.”

“I don’t plan on dying,” Kuina said.

De Gris snorted and lit another cigarette. “None of us do. Now get some grub and get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.”

Kuina rose to her feet. After a moment’s hesitation, she bowed slightly. “Thank you...Captain.”

De Gris waved her away with a dismissive flick of the wrist. “You don’t have to break your teeth saying it. I don’t give a damn what you call me so long as you follow orders. Just know I take discipline on this ship very seriously. Cross me, and keelhauling is the least you’ll have to worry about.”

Kuina didn’t doubt it for a second. Murmuring her goodbyes, she left de Gris to her cigarettes and her musings, grateful to be able to swallow the clean sea air once more.

#wake from death (and return to life)#creative-type writes #holy crap it's been forever since I updated this #I think I missed several chapters on tumblr #I apologize in advance for being bad at promoting my own work #one piece #kuina #One Piece Fanfiction

13 notes · View notes

loki-hargreeves · 4 years

Text

Loki x Reader - Wounds

Warnings: mild gore, close description of wound cleaning, blood, hurt/comfort, fluff, sexual tension, masochism/woundplay (very subtle), implied smut Word Count: 3,7K+ Summary: Loki returns from a mission, wounded. He pretends to be fine but the reader sees through that. She offers to clean his wound and the sexual tension between the two of them grows. At some point, they can’t ignore it anymore. Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a fluffy one-shot, but @godidontevenknowwhat kind of inspired me to choose the dirtier route.

Loki was stubborn.

Perhaps it was in his secretive nature to keep his issues to himself, afraid that by asking for help he would appear weak or vulnerable. It wasn’t entirely Loki’s fault, Y/N knew that. His past was incredibly complicated, which resulted in Loki’s unusual stubbornness and unwillingness to accept other people’s aid. Trying to get close to him was like trying to boil water on an instant – impossible. It required a lot of patience and time, but in the end, it was worth it.

Today was one of the more difficult days.

Loki, who had recently joined the Avengers on several missions now that he lived on earth, returned from a dangerous mission. He claimed that he was fine, but the way he walked, avoiding putting his weight on his left foot gave it away. He was hurt and Y/N wasn’t going to let him ignore his injuries. Seeing him like that broke her heart a little bit. They had been close for months now. In her mind, they were clearly friends - if not more.

As the others stayed in the common room to discuss the mission, Loki retreated to his quarters. Y/N followed him closely, leaving the others behind. She hadn’t been on the mission as she had been busy in New York, dealing with politicians who wanted to stick their noses into the Avengers business again. It was more than just frustrating, but she didn’t want to think about it now. She was worried about Loki.

Once she found herself behind his closed door, she knocked on it three times. “Loki? It’s me, can I come in?”

She heard him sigh deeply before replying, “Come in.”

The door was surrounded by a green film of magic that turned the doorknob and opened the door to her. Y/N knew Loki possessed great magic, but it never failed to amaze her. Even something as simple as him opening and closing doors with magic was astonishing. She walked in and the door closed behind her. Loki was sitting on his bed, crouching forward as his large hand held onto his ribcage tightly. Despite how clear it was to her that he was in pain, Loki tried to act as if nothing was wrong.

“What happened?” Y/N wanted to know, walking further inside the large room carefully. The green curtains had been pulled in front of the windows, but the room was lit by candles and the ceiling light. Loki’s scent was so strong in the room that it almost made Y/N swoon, but she had a strong grip on herself. She didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of Loki, now did she.

“I knew you’d ask,” Loki chuckled, and his rosy lips curled into an evident smirk.

“You’re avoiding my question,” Y/N noticed that Loki didn’t continue to speak after that.

His smirk stilled and he tried to sit up straight. He couldn’t escape her watchful eye. “I might’ve stepped on an explosive-“

“Loki!” Y/N gasped, shocked to hear his opening sentence. “Are you alright?” Without giving it much thought, she rushed to his side. She took a look at him, trying to find signs of great injuries, but failed. It took her a while to recover from the initial shock. How was he still in one piece?

“I’m a god, Y/N. I’ll survive. Something as small as that explosive couldn’t possibly wipe me off the surface of Midgard,” He tried to reassure her that everything was alright.

Somehow, Y/N didn’t believe that he had escaped that without any harm whatsoever. She didn’t want him to be in pain, to suffer alone. “You’re hurt though,” She tested the waters.

Loki sighed, again. He didn’t want to lie to her out of all people. She had a funny way of finding out about the truth of most things sooner or later. Besides, being vulnerable around her wasn’t that bad. Loki had grown quite fond of her and he had to admit that he enjoyed the attention she gave him. At first, he couldn’t understand why she cared. He was almost infuriated by the affectionate words and gazes, but now he had learned to like that. Now he often found himself wanting more, but he never acted out on that wish.

Silently, he stood up from the bed, now standing close to her. She didn’t step further away from him as neither one of them minded the closeness. Loki raised his wrist, using his magic to discard himself of his heavy, battle clothes, leaving him in his emerald green robe and black pants. “The ceiling in the base collapsed and I got a splinter in my side. How unfortunate,” Loki played it off cool as he opened his robe, revealing his bare chest underneath.

At first, Y/N was taken back by the fact that Loki was slowly undressing himself right in front of her. His tones chest was only a foot away from the tip of her nose and she played with the idea of letting her hands roam over his body. Quickly, her focus shifted to the wound in his side. He had pulled out whatever had pierced his flesh, but it had left behind a nasty injury. He was still bleeding!

“Loki…” Y/N struggled to find the right words. Seeing him like that and knowing he must’ve been in pain hurt her. She wanted to make him feel better.

“Don’t worry about it. In two days, it’ll be impossible to tell it was ever there,” He explained casually.

“Well I’m not going to stand by and let you suffer for two days,” She told him. Y/N knew how to be stubborn too. “Let me at least clean it for you, okay?”

Loki narrowed his jade eyes, looking at her properly for the first time that day. He noticed that she seemed genuinely worried about him. Her eyes that were usually so full of joy and light were now glossy. Was she truly upset that he was in pain? He didn’t know what to think of it. Suddenly, Loki felt nervous. His cheeks felt warm as blood rushed to his face and he had to avoid her gaze. “If that’ll make you feel better,” He gave her his verbal permission to do what she pleased.

Thank goodness, Y/N thought as Loki surrendered to her help. “Just wait here, I’ll grab the essentials,” She told him as calmly as she could, focusing entirely on cleansing his wound.

Quickly, she turned around to go to his bathroom, knowing that there was a first-aid kit in there, somewhere. She could’ve sworn that the Avengers compound had more first-aid kits than anything else they could need. It didn’t take long until she found the little red box from the cabinet. She grabbed that along with a roll of toilet paper – If things got messy. Then she returned to Loki who was comfortably sprawled on his bed. He seemed exhausted. Poor thing.

Oh, what she’d do to rest by his side, to let her hands dance across his skin. Perhaps she could catch a kiss or two, or let her lips trace the skin of his neck…

Focus! Y/N told herself as she put the essentials on the bed and then crawled on the soft mattress herself. She sat as comfortably as she could next to Loki so that his wound was easily reached. There was dry blood surrounding it and it was beginning form a crust, but the wound itself looked painful and fresh blood coated it. To stop the bleeding, she grabbed a generous amount of cotton and pressed it on it, watching how the crimson red blood soaked the white material within seconds.

“Were you just going to let yourself bleed out for two days?” Y/N wondered as she sat there, hoping to avoid an awkward silence. It was rare between the two of them as they often found themselves lost in conversation. Somehow this moment felt different, more intimate.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” He shrugged. He couldn’t be serious.

The scars all over his torso let her believe that he was serious. Sure, he had lived much longer than any mortal and seen battles that didn’t compare to the mission he had been on. But it didn’t mean eh deserved to be in pain.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Y/N shifted the focus from the wound to the fact he was alive and considerably well. The thought of losing him, even if he was just a friend, was terrifying. It was quite unlikely due to his strength, but nothing was impossible.

Loki felt his tongue turn heavier by the second as he heard that. He appreciated her care, but he struggled to find the right words to answer her with. It had been so long since he experienced this, that someone genuinely cared about him. Most people stuck around him because he was royalty. Others tried to get closer to Thor via Loki. Y/N didn’t have any ill intentions.

“It would be unfortunate if I passed this early. I’ve still got plenty of people to piss off,” Loki joked after a brief moment of silence. When Y/N giggled in response, he felt a strange sense of pride. He liked making her laugh and listening to that sweet sound was like music to his ears.

Eventually, the bleeding stopped so Y/N removed the cotton. Before she could close the wound, she would have to clean it properly. Unless Loki wanted water soaked on his bed, he had to move to the shower. “I need you in the shower for the next part,” She explained as she gathered the dirty cotton balls into her hands so she could throw them away.

“Oh, are you joining me?” Loki teased her, hoping to shift the attention away from him to her. Besides, he thought she looked cute whenever she was flustered.

“As a matter of fact, I am,” She rolled her eyes as the two of them made their way to the bathroom, which was far more elegant that Y/N had expected. It was clearly built while keeping the resident in mind, it looked like it could belong to a palace. The shower was huge, and it had a seat in the corner, built into the wall. It was perfect.

While ignoring her heart that was beating a little too fast in her chest, Y/N made Loki sit on the shower stool. She grabbed the showerhead and made sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold. She was happy that the water supply in the compound was clean which made it so much easier to rinse wounds. Using alcohol was unnecessary, at least when it came to a wound like this.

Carefully, she placed the showerhead over the wound and washed away the dry blood. It only took seconds for the crimson wound to change into a fleshy colour, looking better already. The blood really made everything seem worse.

“Your clothes are getting wet,” Loki stated the obvious. He could’ve easily done this himself, but he wasn’t going to argue with her.

“So are yours, smartass,” Y/N smiled, calling him that jokingly.

Although the water wasn’t even that warm, the air in the bathroom felt hotter by the second. Y/N would’ve loved to get rid of her outer layer of clothes, but she refused to do so in the shower. Besides, her clothes got wet and it stuck to her skin awkwardly, not leaving too much to the imagination.

“Once I’m done with you, you should be as good as new,” Y/N assured him happily. A dry spot of blood refused to dissolve with the water, so Y/N put her thumb over his skin, ever so carefully rubbing the blood off. The last thing she wanted to do was to hurt him. She noticed how her touch made Loki’s abdominal muscles tense underneath her hand, which she ignored to avoid making things strange.

“Uh…that’s great,” Loki mumbled quietly. Why did her touch make him act that way? It felt like his thoughts were racing when her hand rested on his belly.

“I think that’s good,” Y/N turned off the waterflow and placed the showerhead on its rightful place. She stood up and looked at her soaked clothes with a smile, laughing as water followed her steps, forming a wet path.

Loki did not want that water on his bed, which gave him an idea. “You can borrow my clothes until you get your own. That is, unless you like to be wet and cold,” He didn’t think about his voice of words until it was too late. Damn. He hated how he felt like a young fool around her, thinking twice over a word as simple as ‘wet’. Yet, he did, and he couldn’t help it.

“I’d appreciate that, Loki,” Y/N brushed it off and returned his kindness with a smile.

It didn’t take long until they were both in dry clothes. Loki changed his robe and put on sweatpants, something he had grown fond of during his time on Midgard. The people sure knew how to make comfortable clothes. He left his robe open and lied down on his bed again so Y/N could finish what she had started.

She was wearing one of Loki’s many, surprisingly comfortable robes. She wrapped it tightly around her body and savoured the moment. Being wrapped in the silky material that smelled so strongly of Loki felt lovely. Would he notice if she borrowed it for longer than one night?

With clean hands, she grabbed tweezers so she could pull out the tiny splinters from his wound that she noticed while she was washing it. There were only a few of them, but she was determined to get them all out of his body.

“This might hurt,” Y/N warned him as she carefully began to work on the wound again.

“Maybe I like a little pain,” Loki hinted mysteriously, unintentionally making Y/N grow nervous again. He had noticed how recently his words captured her, made her avoid eye contact and sometimes she’d play with the hem of her shirt nervously. Making her flustered was fun, but he wasn’t too harsh on her. As much fun as it was, Loki couldn’t avoid the deeper truth behind it. She wasn’t flustered for no reason and he didn’t enjoy for no reason either.

One splinter was out. Loki had barely noticed it at all.

Y/N put the bloody splinter on his chest, too lazy to get up and throw it in the bin just yet. “I don’t understand how you step on an explosive, get buried by a ceiling and walk out of that in one piece,” Y/N wanted to talk about the mission.

“That’s where magic comes in handy,” Loki explained, wiggling his fingers playfully. “Besides, the ceiling debris didn’t weigh much.”

“What happened to the enemy?” Y/N wondered as she tried to pull out the larger splinter. It was harder than she imagined at first.

“They tried to escape, but we caught them by the entrance. Thor used his- ah!” Loki suddenly moaned in pain, which interrupted whatever he was about to say. Instinctively, his hand wrapped around her wrist. Y/N had pulled the splinter out and she figured it must’ve hurt him.

Her eyes widened in surprise and she felt guilty, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay!” Loki’s pale cheeks turned red, a rosy colour that spread to his ears as well. Was he blushing? Y/N found it much cuter than she should’ve, especially considering the situation. Her brain began to work in order to understand what happened and she concluded that he was either embarrassed or that Loki liked it.

Once her brain connected Loki with masochism, there was no turning back.

Little did she know that she was right. Loki liked that a little bit too much. He was unsure whether he should ignore what just happened or make her do it again. Her touch had been so gentle, so caring which already messed with his mind. When she insisted they would go in the shower together, Loki was almost baffled by disbelief. Seeing her in there, soaked by the warm water, on her knees right in front of him, his mind had gone to extremely sinful places.

Now this.

This made his thoughts somehow worse.

Loki hadn’t been joking when he said he liked a little bit of pain.

Their eyes met and Loki knew it was be delusional to believe they could move on as if nothing happened. His hand was still holding onto her wrist, but neither one of them was pulling away.

He cleared his throat, “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Gently, he pulled her hand back to his wound. It took every ounce of strength he had not to pull her onto his lap like he desired to do. Instead, he let go of her wrist and muttered, “Just…continue, if you’d like.”

Nervously, Y/N nodded and decided to finish this. Her hands were shaking now which made it harder to pull out the splinters. They both avoided each other’s gazes and a silence lingered around them.

It was quiet until Y/N was ready to wrap it up. “I need you to sit,” She explained while grabbing bandages from the small first-aid kit.

Loki did as he had been told and sat up. His wound already felt much better, but that wasn’t what he was focused on now. Y/N had completely taken over his mind, lurking in his every thought. He had felt strongly for her for a while now, but this intensified his feelings ten times. Her gentle touch, the intimacy of trusting her with his wound, the nervous touches… and the damn pain that she had accidentally inflicted upon him. It was so wrong, but it had felt so good.

He watched her as she placed a square piece of bandage over his wound and began to tape it down on his skin. Seeing her wrapped up in his robe made Loki feel strangely good. He felt possessive over her, but not in a delusional way. He was protective over her, he cared about her more than he dared to admit. Now she was wrapped in his scent. Anyone who saw her now could see that she wore something of his. Loki enjoyed that a lot. If he had the guts to take a risk, he’d ask her to be his as he would be hers.

He stayed quiet as she grabbed a softer bandage and rolled it around his waist a few times, scooting closer to him so she could reach around his body. They were so close now. Loki looked at her flustered face, noticing that she was nervous by judging her expression, the way her eyebrows were furrowed together.

Oh, how he wanted to grab her and kiss her. To smother her with his affection like she did with him. To show her that he cared, even though he seemed cold at times. He had fantasised about it several times before, but the urge had never been this strong before. He yearned for her. It felt like his heart tightened in his chest painfully every time they were close. He nearly lost his breath when they were like this. Loki was surprised by his own feelings. It had been so long since he last craved someone like he craved her.

“You’re all wrapped up,” Y/N was finally done with him. Gently, she patted his stomach, forgetting all about the intimacy. She was going to pull her hand away, already regretting that she touched him when it wasn’t necessary, when Loki grabbed her hand in his own. He had feared she’d pull hers away, but she didn’t.

Their eyes met, both full of questions that no words could answer. Only actions.

Fuck it, Loki thought. Their time together was too short anyway and he felt strangely confident as he did what he had wanted to for so long. Loki pulled Y/N towards him, almost making her lose her balance as she crashed against him. Her impact put pressure on his wound, but it only hurt a little bit which Loki welcomed. Their lips met roughly, and their teeth nearly clashed by the sudden force. As Loki tilted his head, the kiss got more comfortable. Their lips melted against one another and they both felt sparks igniting between them, on their lips and within their hearts.

It felt so right.

Loki tasted her and she was just as sweet as he had thought. He used his other hand to cup the side of her face, his fingertips resting against the back of her head. He felt her pulse underneath his palm, and it relieved him to know he wasn’t the only one whose heart was racing like a wild horse.

They pulled away after a moment, staring at each other curiously, almost in disbelief. Y/N couldn’t believe Loki kissed her. It felt magical. His kiss seemed to put a spell on her, or perhaps it was the burst of joy she felt when she faced him so lovingly.

“Thank you,” Loki smiled, overjoyed at the moment. He had to thank her properly for taking such good care of him.

“I couldn’t let you bleed out, now could I?” She laughed lightly and then glanced at his lips again, feeling like she needed to kiss him again more than she needed air in her lungs. So she did that, closing her eyes as their lips met again. This time it was expected and somehow even better.

Y/N got a boost of confidence from the kiss. She had a strange feeling that Loki wouldn’t mind her as she threw her leg over his lap, straddling him on his bed. Loki welcomed that, holding onto her body to keep her close. She couldn’t believe herself as she leaned her body seductively towards the dark-haired man and grabbed him by his waist, letting her hand linger above his wound. As odd as it was, he seemed to enjoy a little bit of pain. Touching him was so exciting and she wanted more. She longed for more as she felt Loki’s large hands on her body, holding her a little tighter than a friend would.

Loki didn’t want to scare her away from him, but he couldn’t control his body when she grinded her lap against his. Suddenly, his comfortable pants began to feel tight around him. Loki pulled away from the kiss, stopping himself before surely, he’d make her back away. “Y/N- you’re going to drive me mad!” He warned her seriously, yet he didn’t let go of her.

“So be it,” She shrugged, eyes darkened by lust. He was a fool if he thought she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her.

A/N: Well, well, well. You’ve made it to the end. I would appreciate your feedback! Thank you so much for reading this 💕

Reblogs > Likes

#Loki #Loki One-Shot #tw wounds #tw wound #Loki angst #Loki fluff #Implied smut #Loki x Reader #loki x You #Loki x Y/N #Loki imagine #Loki fanfiction

395 notes · View notes

allthingshetalia · 4 years

Note

Can you write sergeant Prussia confessing his love to a cadet and she likes him also but is afraid and says no. Then Prussia gets mad and makes her do extra hard, not letting her finish eating and already making her run or sth. He overall makes her psychically and mentally exhausted and she collapses due to not eating enough not sleeping and working too hard. Prussia finds out she collapsed and rushes to see her and apologizes after the doctor tells him what is wrong with her. I 💗 your writing!

💕I love this idea! Thank you💕

“She passed out from exhaustion. She also appears to be extremely dehydrated. She has also lost quite a bit of weight since her last check up and that was only 2 1/2 weeks ago. We recommend she takes a week to rest and slowly works back into training. Right now she needs lots of sleep, water and some hearty meals.” The doctors explained. Sergeant Beilschmidt nodded his head, as he stood outside the curtain of your ‘room,’ in the hospital ward.

He sent you out for a 5 mile run. He claimed it was because you sucked at pushups earlier that day, but both of you knew the real reason. When you didn’t come back within 20 minutes he began to worry. So he called someone to go and check on you to make sure you didn’t skip out, well that’s what he told them. He Secretly wondered if you got lost or hurt. Apparently they found you lying face first in the mud.

He immediately went to check on you, and found a doctor that explained what had happened. He felt nauseous as the doctor told him what had actually happened. It was his fault. He knew he was working you hard but he didn’t realize how hard. He loves you very, very, very much, but when you rejected him it stored something inside him, a dark part of him he always hated. It was always hard for him to be vulnerable, and when he confessed his feelings to you it was a very vulnerable moment, and you shot him down.

“Can I go in and check on her?” He asked. His hand already gripped the curtain before the doctors replied.

“Of course.” The doctors smiled.

He cringed as he saw you were still covered in mud. It was plastered to the side of your face and your hair. You were very pale, your eyes were traced with deep bags and your lips were chapped.

“Can I get a bowl of water and a few towels?” He asked poking his head out of the curtain. A nearby nurse quickly nodded her head and went off to get the supplies. She soon came back and set it on the small tray near your bed. “Thank you.” Gilbert grumbled. He dipped the towel in the water and softly began to scrub at the mud stuck to your face. Once he did that he soaked another towel and tried his best to scrap as much mud as he could out of your hair. He also took it out of the bun you had, knowing it probably wasn’t comfy to sleep on. Once he sat on the chair right next to your bed.

It had been two days. You had yet to wake up. He spent as much time as he could with you. When he wasn’t training he was with you. He even ate his meals right next to you. He scrubbed your face everyday, making sure to get the eye boogers out. He got some chapstick for you and he even fell asleep in his chair. He held your hand as he slept, and that was how you woke up.

“Mmm.” You groaned. Your eyelids opened slowly. Wherever you were was fairly dark, and you were thankful for that. Your body felt heavy, like a rock was laying on you. Your eyes had no trouble adjusting to the darkness. You could hear footsteps going past you. A light squeeze of your hand caused you to look to your right. You immediately recognized a mop of silver hair and you quickly pulled your hand away. This caused him to wake up.

“You’re awake?” He groaned. He sat up and stretched. He shuffled around a little and a dim light flickered on from the lamp next to your bed. You quickly covered your eyes. “Sorry.” He mumbled. You pulled the covers up over you face, so you were hiding from him. He sighed deeply from next to you. “Y/N.” Please don’t do that.” He sighed. He pulled away the covers from you and you didn’t have much strength to fight him. “Are you thirsty? Hungry?” He asked. You shot him a glare.

“Like you care.” You rasped. You swallowed thickly trying to soothe the pain you felt after speaking. He closed his eyes tightly. He got up and left and you felt a little at piece. But it was short lived when he came back with two cups. One was filled with apple juice and another one was a cup of ice. He poked a straw in the apple juice and held it up to your mouth. You grabbed the whole cup from him and drank greedily. He quickly took the cup back from you.

“Not so fast.” He scolded.

“You’re not the boss of me.” You grumbled. Even though you were angry you leaned forward and took the straw in your mouth and continued to drink.

“Well the uniform says different.” He chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not anymore. I’m quitting. I have a medical reason. I’ll just say I physically can’t do it. Don’t worry i won’t blame you.” You growled. His heart ached painfully in his chest. “Congrats you won.” You sighed, resting back down against the pillow. He put the empty apple juice down on the table.

“How did I win?” He asked softly. You turned your head to look at him. He was staring intensely into your eyes. His ruby eyes encompassed the same emotions as when you rejected him.

“This is obviously what you wanted. To break me and make me suffer. You wanted me gone.” You spat. “You could lie and say it’s heartbreak but we both know it’s your ego. Can’t handle being rejected.” You continued. You stared up at the ceiling for a long moment before he spokez

“Is that how lowly you think of me?” He shuddered. You looked at him expecting to see anger but the only thing you saw was tear filled eyes. Your eyes widened as he stared at you in despair. “I know I can be difficult and hard on people- especially you, but I am not some cold hearted monster that you believe I am. I made a mistake. You’re right I couldn’t handle being rejected. But not because of my ego. Because I love you. I know it’s hard to believe after I ended up placing you in the hospital. I guess a part of me just wanted you to suffer like how I was suffering.” He sighed and leaned forward resting his elbows on the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t have to believe my words. But you do need to know that I am terribly sorry for what I did. I never wanted to hurt you. You have made me see, feel and think things I never have before. And I’m sorry that this is how I repay you.” He got up from his seat and grabbed his coat off of the foot of your bed throwing it on. He slowly walked over to you and placed a gentle kiss against your head. You felt a little drop of wetness one your forhead but he quickly brushed it away. He swiftly turned off the light and pulled back the curtain leaving you.

Tears fell from your own eyes at his confession. Sure you always had a crush on him. But you never knew he truly felt that way about you. You kinda thought he just wanted to get in your pants, so he was just spewing nonsense. You rolled over in your bed and hugged the pillow tightly against your frame. After who knows how long of being asleep you where no longer tired. So you just laid there, crying and eating ice chips.

✨Time skip✨

You grinned at your friends who welcomed you back. After spending the last week in the hospital you had a lot of time to think, about you, your work, Gilbert, everything. The nurse told you how he barely left your side for two days. That made you realize maybe he did really mean what he said. And you decided that if he broke your heart, it would be no ones fault but your own.

You quickly made your way inside the large air conditioned building. Walking through many long hallways and going up an elevator to the very top floor you stopped infront of a large familiar door. ‘Sergeant Beilschmidt’ was written in large bold letters on the plaque attached to the door. You knocked loudly.

“Come in”. He shouted. You opened the door and peaked your head in. He was looking down at his desk staring at some papers. You closed the door behind you and cleared your throat.

He looked up and your heart dropped when you got a look at his face. His eyes were dull, compared to the fire they always held. He had dark circle sunder his eyes and his nose was red and irritated. His uniform was still perfect. His eyes lightened up a little seeing you, but that quickly diminished as he grabbed a stack of papers off the corner of his desk.

“Here are your resignation papers.” He muttered. “I filled everything out, all I need are your signatures.” You sat down in one of the large seats infront of his desk.

“I don’t want to leave.” You stated. He smiled at you softly. “I do what to be transferred to a different Sergeant/group whatever it’s called.” His smile instantly faltered.

“Of course”. He gave you a small smile, despite the sad look in his eyes.

“Well it wouldn’t be fair to everyone if I got special treatment because we were together.” You smiled. His head shot up from his paperwork.

“Is that another trick?” He mumbled suspiciously. You bit your lips and shook your head.

“If you still want to, I want to.” You smiled softly. He nodded his head quickly, the familiar spark in his eyes coming back.

“I would love that! And I promise no more hospitals- unless you’re having my baby of course.” He chuckled. You rolled your eyes.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. I’m still mad at you, ya know.” You scolded.

“I don’t blame you.” He leaned over his desk his face serious. “What can I do go make it up to you?” He asked softly. You leaned forward too so your forhead were pressed together.

“How about dinner and a ice cream?” You chuckled.

“You have yourself a deal.” He pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

#allthingshetalia #hetalia #hetalia blog #hetalia imagine blog #x reader #hetalia imagines #aph hetalia #hws hetalia #prussia hetalia #prussia x reader #aph prussia #hws prussia #prussia headcons #prussia headcannons #prussia imagines #gilbert beilschmidt

117 notes · View notes

jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

settle down Home is where you have a warm bed and a warm meal. Naturally, it follows that as the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order, Yoda likes to cook for the many people in his care. Or: Five times Yoda cooks for somebody and one time someone cooks for him.

Yoda had been looking forward to this year’s Convergence. He had been sure that this time around, he would have one less Padawan and one more Knight to his lineage, and indeed, Obi-Wan had become a great Knight. Yoda just wished the price hadn’t been so high. He had lost Qui-Gon and Dooku both within weeks. He had kept watch over Dooku’s growing distance to the Order with wary eyes, but his former Padawan was an adult, an old man almost already, and Yoda hadn’t wanted to pretend he held any kind of sway over him. Now he wished he would have pressed for Dooku to stay a little longer. Perhaps meeting Obi-Wan and Anakin properly would have been enough to keep him with the Order. Yoda was sad to see his Padawan go, but he could not linger. He was sure Dooku was going to encourage growth and kindness on his homeworld.

Deep in thought, he walked to the kitchen and opened his fridge. He was supposed to spend the Convergence with the lineage of a Padawan who had died already a hundred years ago. Yoda had made it a habit to spend every year with a different branch of his family, but this year’s circumstances forced him to switch around his cycle a little. He was glad Feemor had reached out to Obi-Wan. The two would benefit from supporting one another and little Anakin Skywalker could learn a lot from Feemor’s Padawan. However, Yoda felt like he might add a little to the situation. See for himself how they were doing.

He took the roots, vegetables, and beetles he usually used for this meal out of the fridge. He had gone to the kitchens just this morning to get them all to be sure he had enough for everyone. He knew his stew was not the favorite amongst the human members of his lineages, but it was tradition. Perhaps Anakin would like it. When he had met the boy in the kitchens, he had been complaining about the lack of sunbeetles for the meal he was going to prepare.

Setting the items on the kitchen counter, Yoda took a knife out of a drawer and began to cut them all up.

“Hello, younglings,” Yoda greeted the excited children. They were all vibrating with joy, so much that the Senior Padawan in charge of them looked a little nervous at their bouncing.

“Hello, Master Yoda,” the children greeted him in turn. “What are we going to make today?”

Yoda hummed as he led the group to the kitchens. They were all of various ages, the youngest being a four-year-old Togruta child and the oldest an eleven-year-old Mon Calamari boy. He would have to make something simple with them so that all could be included in the process.

Scanning the group of eight, Yoda noted that they didn’t have a single avian child amongst them. Well, that made his decision easier.

“Firecracker cookies, eaten those before have you?”

The Senior Padawan paled considerably and looked at Yoda as if he had just cursed him to eternal darkness. The Grandmaster cackled. The teenager must have tasted the Mandalorian delicacy once then.

A human child shook their head. “No. Are they tasty?”

“Very,” Yoda confirmed. “Do not offer them to avian species. Eat them, they can not. Too spicy they are for their stomachs.”

Now the Padawan actually let out a desperate whimper and Yoda couldn’t help but laugh out loud. This was bound to be a fun lesson for everyone involved.

Yoda had expected many things from the war and was sad how many of his predictions had come true. The bloodshed was gruesome, painful, and feeling so many sentients die around him was worse than anything he had ever experienced before, except, perhaps, reaching out for his Padawan and finding darkness where there once was light. It weighted heavily on his soul and he could only hope that the many Padawans dispersed around the galaxy had as much support as they needed. They had argued so much about whether to let their children fight, but if this war were to escalate, become even longer and harsher, they had to make sure that the next generation could survive it, that there would be a next generation to raise the one after and so on. Yoda did not expect to survive the end of the war, but he was old already, much older than his species usually became. He had seen much of the world and could pass on peacefully, knowing he had given as much as he could.

And all of it for those who would come after.

“Like you, hm?” Yoda asked the baby resting peacefully in his arms now. They had found the girl amongst the wreckage of another battlefield, her parents dead.

She had not been crying, had likely stopped days ago when she noticed that nobody was coming. The poor baby had only still been hurting in the Force, a wound as large and terrific as an exploding star.

The little Twi’lek looked at him with her dark green eyes, entirely focused as she sucked at the bottle. It was good that they were due for another stop at Coruscant. He could bring her to the creche and there they could provide her with more than the scrapped together milk they had found in her bombed home.

“A great Jedi will you be,” Yoda told her and gently caressed her cheek. “Strong and wise and a little troublesome, yes.”

The baby didn’t reply, she was hardly half a year old, a little too young for the creche actually but nothing they hadn’t mastered before. Yoda could feel her warmth however, that she was content and felt safe.

And that was the most important part.

“So, what’s for dinner?” asked Tekel, one of the newer troopers. Their armor was still too white and pristine for their brothers’ liking, but Yoda was sure they’d earn a few scratches soon, perhaps even add more paint. “Ration bars or ration bars or ration bars but already too old to actually be served as food?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” another brother replied and knocked against the young trooper’s shoulder as he made his way towards the campfire. “Never heard that one before.”

Yoda observed them fondly. They reminded him of the groups of Padawans hanging around the mess hall, joking and laughing and making fun of one another. The men certainly weren’t much older than the children Yoda had watched grow up. It would be more accurate actually to say they were younger given their accelerated aging. It was a blessing that they wouldn’t also grow old twice as fast unless they had a genetic mutation.

“Eat ration bars tonight, we will not,” Yoda decided.

His men turned to him with curious looks in their eyes. “We won’t? Did we get a shipment of something else?”

Their weapons and tactical training were impeccable, but you couldn’t forget that they had been raised in a sterile environment. Some of the finer elements of nature still eluded them.

“Pah! Mandalorian, your prime was, was he not? Part of our Order are you not? Smart hunters you are and full of life this planet is. Eat properly we will tonight.”

With that announcement, still keeping a serious face, Yoda walked into the woods on silent feet, his men quickly hurrying after him. They made too much noise at first, but quickly learned to walk as silently as he. It made Yoda wonder about their potential. Tekel especially was strong in the Force. He called it good instincts, but Yoda had not been born a fool. They didn’t have the equipment to test of Midichlorians, but good Jedi didn’t need those to know how strong their opposite was. He shouldn’t be a soldier, but a Jedi. None of his men should be forced to fight.

“I got one!” Tekel shouted after a while, victoriously holding up one of the local animals, a small round ball of fluff.

“Good, good,” Yoda praised. “Teach you how to cook it I will next.”

Tekel and their brothers exchanged a slightly worried look.

“Wait, what?”

Yoda loved the galaxy. It was bright and vibrant and there were so many things to see, explore and discover, but if he ever had to pick a space to spend the rest of his life in, it would most certainly be the temple. It was his home, where he had grown up and raised countless children, seen them grow into great Masters, surpassing him in the fraction of time it had taken him to learn. He was proud of all of them and was ashamed he could not lessen their burden more. They looked to him for answers about the war, deployments and battle strategy and hundred more things Yoda could not help them with.

This one thing, however, Yoda could do for them.

“Take another, you should,” Yoda said and held his plate out.

Before the council meeting, Yoda had made plenty of snacks for all the Council members currently stationed at the temple. They were due for another dusk-to-dawn meeting and Yoda knew very well how quick all of them were to neglect their own needs.

Mace politely raised his hands to decline the offer.

“Thank you, Master Yoda, but that one sandwich was enough for me.”

Yoda huffed and shook the plate slightly.

“Knew you as a youngling, I did. Never ate well then you did either, always causing your Master headaches. Have a biscuit, Mace.”

The other Master stared at the plate for a moment linger, than he admitted defeat and took a cookie from it. Yoda was pleased to notice that Mace, while giving his speech on troops currently stuck in the Outer Rim, took another cookie every few minutes.

Younglings shouldn’t protest so much, Yoda did know what was good for them

Yoda awoke to the smell of tea and breakfast. It was most unusual, as he was the one who made breakfast as he got up hours before his Padawan. The old Master got dressed and stepped out of his rooms and into the kitchen where, indeed, his Padawan was leaning over an old handwritten notebook, trying to decipher the instruction.

“Three tablespoons of cinnamon? That’s too much,” Dooku muttered under his breath. “Who puts three tablespoons of that stuff in pancakes?”

“Put this much cinnamon in my pancakes, I do, Padawan mine,” Yoda spoke up.

Dooku let out a quite undignified shriek and almost knocked over the chair standing behind him as he took a step back.

“Master!” Dooku complained. “Why are you up already?”

“Asking you this, I should be,” Yoda replied and sat down on his chair at their table.

If his Padawan had decided to make breakfast, Yoda was not going to stop him.

“Weeeeeell,” Dooku scratched the back of his head, his cheeks glowing red. The youngling was quite cute even now that his voice was beginning to crack. “It’s your life day, Master. I figured I should cook for you for once.”

Yoda smiled. “A meal, appreciate greatly I do.”

Dooku grinned back with youthful enthusiasm and went to retrieve his spoon from the batter. “So, three tablespoons of cinnamon?”

“Three tablespoons.”

In silence, Yoda watched his Padawan cook for him and imagined a future where he would get to see his young student cook for his entire lineage. They still had a while until then, but Yoda was sure it would be a sight to behold.

#star wars #yoda #mace windu #count dooku #tcw #jedi order #fanfic #ANYWAY STAN JEDI GRANDPA

60 notes · View notes

aloisofmissouri · 3 years

Text

A Journal Entry

July 20th, 2021

11:44pm

Trigger Warning:

Sexual Assault, Self Harm,Mental Health, physical health, and occasional swears.

Dear Reader,

I’m only eighteen but I have experienced a lot, and so have many other teens I know. I know at least four of my classmates have been raped at some point in their life. And who knows what others may have been through and I never knew.

But I’m not writing to share their story, unless they decide that they want their story told. As of now, I am writing to share my story.

So, let's start with my earliest memory.

My earliest memory is watching Elmo and Little Bear from my crib in the living room when I was probably a toddler. I don’t remember much, other than enjoying the cartoons. It was happy and innocent. One of the few childhood memories I can look back on and smile.

I was really young when I was first raped. First raped, you caught that part, right? Yeah, I wasn’t raped just once, but multiple times by one man. The man I had grown up calling my father. The man on my birth certificate. I’m not exactly how old I was when it started, but if I had to guess, I was probably in the first or second grade when it went past the occasional groping and lewd comments.

Near the end of third grade, my mother decided to take me and my sibling to live with our grandmother. But that didn’t last long.

We ended up moving back in with our mother and abusive father when I was in fifth grade. I didn’t want to but my father manipulated me into doing so. He threatened to place a restraining order on my grandmother when I wanted to stay with her.

Things were miserable and the abuse continued. But luckily I was able to go back to my grandmother by sixth grade. But I still had to deal with what happened.

I believe my grandmother meant well, but she use to tell me not to let people know what had happened to me. She said that no one would want to be with someone who was raped because a lot of people view them as used or damaged goods basically.

My grandmother was a bit emotionally damaging, though I know she more than likely didn’t know that she was being so. I have reason to believe that she has dementia and possibly a personality disorder.

I remember her saying that I shouldn’t wear plaid or spotted clothing because it would make me look bigger than the broad side of a barn. She also told me to stay away from bright colors because they would have the same effect. I refused to stay away from plaid though, I kept that jacket from middle school until junior year when I could no longer zip it. But it took me a long time to wear bright colors, and it is still hard. I also have a hard time feeling comfortable in my own skin, and not just because of the occasional comment about my weight from my grandmother, but also because of the abuse I had dealt with from my father. I spent the majority of school always wearing jeans, jackets, and dark clothing. I didn’t feel comfortable wearing shorts. And I’m still getting used to wearing them.

I had to go to court in middle school. Someone had apparently turned my father in for what he had done to me (I was living with my grandmother again by then) and we still do not know who reported them. I wish I could thank whoever turned him in.

Sadly, they only gave him three years despite the evidence. And he was only going to have to serve one and a half years because of the amount of time spent in a jail cell waiting for court that kept getting rescheduled. He died of stage four lung cancer though before he was half way through his time.

My freshman year I finally realised I had anxiety and that there was something definitely wrong with me mentally. By my sophomore year, I was self harming and in counselling and diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, OCD, and Anxiety. By junior year I was on a lot of medication thanks to a pill happy psychiatrist. And I was miserable. But thankfully, I found a new psychiatrist who quickly helped me get cut down to just one pill. Near the end of junior year, I quit self harming. And I also finally started to get a bit of control over my mania and my depression.

I have a Google Doc somewhere that has over 150 pages of poetry, and the majority of it is about depression, trauma, and anger. And they were all written during middle school and highschool. Writing poetry helped me then. Now, I don’t really write poetry anymore. I have only written a handful of poems within the last year. And they were mostly in Shakespearean English because I thought it would be fun.

I believe I might have religious anxiety. I don’t remember the technical term though. I grew up going to Baptist Churches and had a heavy christian influence. But sadly, Christians aren’t quite as christian as they are supposed to be.

Due to being constantly worried about sinning and about being too filthy and being damned to hell, my depression and anxiety got to me from a different angle. I kept breaking up with everyone I dated if I feared we were getting too close. I would either feel like I wasn’t good enough or I would fear that we would have sex and I would be damned. I also hated myself for my sexuality, though it took me a long time to figure that out. I supported my LGBTA+ friends but when it came to myself, I couldn’t accept myself.

When I self harmed, I would do it because I felt filthy and had this urge to scratch my skin off my body because I never felt clean. I never hurt myself too severely, just scratches and shallow cuts on my wrist and my thigh. But I still found it hard to quit. It became far too easy to always turn to the blade, regardless of if I was feeling filthy or if I was dissociating or if I was having a panic attack.

Despite what had happened to me, I’m finally starting to become me. Even though I am still discovering who I am. I quite self harming, I don’t have quite as many panic attacks or nightmares, I lost my virginity, learned I am demisexual (leaning a bit towards asexuality though) Panromantic and Nonbinary. I also discovered I have some other health issues outside of my mental health. I am apparently allergic to alphagall, peanuts, and wheat. Thankfully I just get slightly sick if I eat those things though, but it is still a bit annoying when those things are basically in everything you like to eat.

I also found out that the reason my menstrual cycle has always been so irregular is because I have cysts. Originally I thought I had PCOS but now after some ultrasounds, it is looking like Endometriosis. I have cysts on my uterus and my ovaries. The doctor told me that my insurance should cover the surgery if I were to get a total hysterectomy.

I never really wanted to give birth so that part of this doesn’t bother me, my fear is that there will be issues from the surgery. And it has also spurred some identity issues. But so far, I am sticking to they/them pronouns. Even though my family still calls me she/her. But I haven’t really come out to them. They know I’m not 100% straight, but who wants to sit down and explain to their grandmother (who dropped out of school in eight grade to care for her grandma, has a flip phone, and just a few years ago decided to accept the lgbt+ part of her family) that I’m nonbinary? I barely manage to explain to my mother (highschool dropout because of pregnancy, has a touch screen phone and understand some things of the current century) that there is more than just straight, gay, and bisexual. I explained to my mother the other day what omnigender and nonbinary is. Had to explain transgender to my mother when I was a junior and introduced her to a friend of mine who was afab but went by he/him pronouns.

I suppose that despite all the shit I’ve been through, at least my mother doesn’t give two flying fucks who I like. When I told her that I thought I was pansexual in middle school, all she did was ask me what that meant. Then she just nodded her head and went with it. Same thing when I decided I was Wiccan in middle school. She even bought me a pentacle necklace and every book (mostly fantasy) that mentioned witches. I no longer identify as Wiccan, I mostly just stick to animist. But my point being, my mother didn’t throw a fit when two of her nine kids came out as gay. Even if she does identify as a Saturday Adventist, she supports us. She even listens to me ramble about mistranslated things in the Bible and my views on theology. And my rants about Supernatural. Though she did laugh when I spent about an hour crying after the Supernatural second to last episode of season 15. She did listen to me rant about Castiel and the plot lines and everything. Though I had to keep explaining some of the characters to her.

Despite the things I’ve been through, I managed to graduate high school, survive my severe depression and anxiety, and now I am thinking about possibly applying for Law school and going to college. And I now also have the confidence to do what I want and wear what I want. Though I still feel all nervous about asking out a girl I’ve been friends with for about three or more years. I’ve now made the excuse to wait and see if she mentions not being completely straight. Oh, and she now has a boyfriend too so yeah, gonna have to wait a bit.

Until next time,

Alois 🐧

#mentalhealth #metoo #abuse #journal #lgbtq #i swear #trauma #my life #moving forward #heath #depression

2 notes · View notes

princessjungeun · 4 years

Text

Champion

Content warning: violence, blood, fighting, bullying-ish? Talk of homelessness and family issues

The reader i wrote as a black, queer, female. If you don’t like that oh well, use your imagination then :)

You didn’t necessarily choose the flighting life, it chose you. Growing up you didn’t have the picture perfect family that many had. To be honest you couldn’t even really say you had a family. That was until you met Matthew, known as BM.

Before meeting BM you were sleeping on benches, in hostels, or in a kind older woman’s house. One night you were approached by a young man in his late 20s. He offered you a place to stay, he’s pay for your school, and whatever else you needed. At the time you were only a young teenager, so going with him could be risky. But winter was coming and you knew you’d end up dead if you stayed on the streets.

Matthew knew you weren’t straight from the day he met you. He saw how broken you were from not having a family and he understood to a certain degree what that felt like. He knew if he left you on the streets, itd be dangerous for you. A young, black, queer, female didn’t belong on the streets.

BM kept his word and took care of you as if you were his younger sister. He was a trainer by day and fighter by night, competing in UFC fights every weekend. He told you constantly that you were going to learn to fight, but her never actually trained you.

You had a lot of past issues and traumas which contributed to some of the internal anger you had. Matthew often told you that if you tried fighting or even just swinging at his heavy bag, it’d help you feel better. But you always pushed the idea away not wanting to waste time on a coping mechanism you know probably wouldn’t work. He’d asked time and time again if there was anything he could do to help, but you always refused. The thing was you weren’t one to open up about yourself. Besides Matthew you didn’t know anyone really. Even in school, nobody talked to you other than your best friend, Hyunjin and your girlfriend Lia.

You and Hyunjin bonded over the fact that you two lived almost similar lives. He understood a lot of the things you went through and how you feel now.

Whereas Lia...she was different. Lia was the first person you ever met that made you feel something. Lia was the only person that could make you smile by doing absolutely nothing. You definitely don’t look like the type to be with someone like her but you’d go to any length to protect her. Even if it meant you got in trouble, you had nothing to lose anyways.

This was put to the rest one day in school while you and Lia were passing to classes together. You ended up getting in a fight and badly injuring another student.

When BM came to pick you up, he saw the male student you beat up being driven to a hospital. No charges were pressed as you were doing it in self defense, as you had many witnesses to help you defend your case.

You sat at the kitchen table as he yelled at you furiously. “What the fuck are you thinking Y/N?!” You looked down and said “leave it alone i’m not in trouble with the law, his parents aren’t pressing charges.” Matthew asked, anger laced in his voice “that doesn’t matter you could have killed him.” You responded bluntly “but i didn’t. Isn’t that right? Plus you don’t even know what happened!”

The two of you went back and forth for minutes before you were both calm enough to actually explain in detail what happened. “I was in the hallway with my....uh- Lia and this boy touched her ass. And then I told him he needed to apologize and he pushed me and told me to fuck off. Then I told him if he touched me again I’d beat his ass...and he pushed me to the floor and I told him again to apologize to Lia. But then he threw Lia to the ground then punched me in the face. So I started hitting him and I-I guess I lost control.”

Matthew sat in silence for a moment then he said “you’re gonna learn to control it. Come on, get up.” You asked “huh?” He repeated himself “I said get up.” You groaned then followed him outside to the garage. There, hanging from the ceiling was a heavy bag, and weights littered across the floor. Putting gloves on your hand he said “punch me.” Looking at him with wide eyes you said “wha-no I’m not going to-” He yelled “PUNCH ME GODDAMN IT!” You did as he said and full force threw a punch. He caught your hand in his, looking at your fist in his hand he smiled.

It was now that he decided that he was going to take a break from competing so he could train you. In the beginning he was afraid you’d get hurt, although he wasn’t your blood relative, he took care of you like one.

You trained before and after school with Matthew. Running mile after mile, throwing punch after punch, push up after push up. You never got a break unless you were seriously injured. Matthew showed no mercy, although you were like his baby sister, he needed you to be the best fighter in the circuit.

Nobody in school knew exactly what you were doing, but it was evident at the growing muscles in your legs and arms. Also the fact that you were constantly bringing meal prepped food Matthew made for you as your lunch.

You girlfriend grew suspicious of what you were building strength and muscle for, but she never asked. She told herself that if you wanted to share with her what was going on, you’d do it on your own time.

Eventually the day came for your first fight. Matthew woke you up in the morning and you both took a light jog in the morning. He didn’t want to overwork you before your big day.

•

Hours passed as you anxiously awaited your first fight. You were nervous but you tried to play it off, but Matthew could read you like a book. “You’ll do fine. I trained you well. Make me proud ok?” He hugged you and kissed your forehead, this was the first time he truly showed affection to you.

He helped you braid down your hair so it was out of your face. “Look at me.” He held your face in his hands as he applied a thin layer of Vaseline to your face. “It’ll help make the punches slide off...sounds weird but it works.” You let him grease up your face before saying a quick prayer that you’d be ok.

When you walked into the arena loud shouts filled the building. You did your best to not look terrified but it definitely didn’t work. Matthew removed your robe before telling you “it’s fine. Your opponent is a rookie like you, she hasn’t done this before ok? Relax and concentrate...and don’t kill her.” You nodded before doing a quick handshake with him and walking into the ring.

The overhead speaker filled the arena “For the first Rookie fight of the night We have Y/LN Y/N of Korea vs Pranpriya Manoban of Thailand!” You looked up at the girl in front of you, she was definitely at least 21 whereas you were still a minor, almost an adult. The two of you shook hands before starting.

Pranpriya put up a good fight, but you won fairly quickly. You ended up coming out with a busted lip to show for your victory while Pranpriya was knocked out on the floor. Matthew shouted wildly, incredibly proud of you. A smile creeped onto your face as the referee held your arm up, indicating that you won.

•

Fight after fight you won, gaining attention of not only Korean citizens, but internationally as well. You remained the youngest rookie in the circuit, as well as the youngest with the most wins.

You gained the name Ali after Muhammad Ali, although you weren’t a boxer, you had the passion, the strength, and humbleness of Ali.

People talked about you wherever you went. There were constantly cameras following you and Matthew. Lia is still your girlfriend as well. For a while she didn’t know you fought, as she didn’t keep up with UFC news. When she found out she refused to come to your fights. Even though you won almost everytime, she couldn’t bear seeing you get hit.

The only fight Lia agreed to attend was the first and only one you lost. Without a doubt you didn’t make it easy, but you didn’t tap out when you should have. The result was brutal. It was against a champion, Ha Sooyoung. She was a rookie like you but she was known to be violent, beating her opponents until they were just barely able to walk out the ring. Many asked why she was still allowed to fight, as many thought she was violating some type of rule. As it turns out she wasn’t. Sooyoung never once broke a rule.

Sooyoung not much older than you but she was far better at that time. She was known to be vicious and quite talkative in the ring. She’d say anywhere from one word, to a full lecture. Her words got to her opponents easily, making her lethal. At the time you weren’t worried about her, but you learned the hard way not to be so nonchalant. You started out winning but slowly your chance of victory faded.

Making sure to not stay in one place, you walked around the ring. You’d already gotten punched in the face so much your lip was busted, nose with dry blood, and a puffy eye. Out of the corner of your eye you saw your girlfriend watching you.

Sooyoung followed your gaze before smirking and going in for another jab. You fell to the ground and Sooyoung climbed on top of you. At this point your vision was practically gone, your ears ringing. You could hear Matthew shouting for you to fight back, but you couldn’t push Sooyoung off. You felt pain sear through your body punch after punch, kick after kick.

“She’s teasing you! Tap out Y/N! ITS FINE TAP OUT PLEASE!” You heard Matthew shout from the side of the ring. Although you didn’t know what to do, you knew for a fact you weren’t going to tap out, you’re not a quitter. You felt Sooyoung throw a punch, this time hitting your lower ribs. Wind knocked out of your chest and you gasped for air. You felt your body cry for help but you weren’t letting up.

As the last of your adrenaline flowed through your veins you went to punch Sooyoung in the head, but she grabbed your arm. She smirked once more before whispering “K.O.” Everything went black and you fell back against the ground.

Due to that loss you needed a break from fighting to heal. You suffered a concussion, three broken ribs, a broken nose, a broken jaw, ruptured apendex, 3 stitches in your lip and 8 over your eye. The healing process was beyond terrible for you, as all you wanted to do was train again. Your doctor told you that you were lucky, if she punched you at another angle you would have died.

Although you were grateful she didnt go through and do the complete worst, she did get you pretty good. Once you fully healed you weren’t able to forget that night. Solely because of the scar that ran down your eye. Matthew jokingly called you Scar, as your scar closely resembled the Lion King character’s.

You continued training as soon as you got clearance from your doctor. Once again you remained a champion against everyone, except Sooyoung. You’ve never fought her after that night, as much as you wanted to, there was still a fear that she’d do much worse than she already did.

Now you were weeks away from the World Champions. You could have gone last year if you hadn’t lost that fight. It was set that you were to fight the one opponent that you’ve never beaten, Ha Sooyoung.

•

“Baby.” You shook Lia’s leg and she looked up at you, “Hmmm?” You asked “I know you don’t like coming to my fights anymore...but worlds is in a few weeks and it’d mean a lot if you were there.” She responded “of course I’ll go see you at worlds, do you know who you’re fighting?” You nodded and carefully said “um...funny story.”

You stopped for a minute then decided to just rip off the bandaid. “Ha Sooyoung.” Lia froze in your embrace.

“Is that a good idea? I mean I’m not saying you’re a bad fighter...obviously you’re amazing but- She almost killed you Y/N.” She brought a hand up to your face and ran her fingers along the scar on your eye. Lia softly said “I don’t want to lose you.” You kissed her lips softly and said “it’s fine, this time I’ll win. I promise you will never lose me.”

Matthew flung the door to your room open, “What did I tell you about closing the door all the way?” You both in unison said “sorry it won’t happen again.” He nodded and said “Y/N come on we need to practice.” You nodded and stood up, kissing your girlfriend goodbye.

•

Finally the day of World Championships came. You didn’t feel the nerves hit until you were in the ring. Everyone around you was screaming your name, a few cheering for Sooyoung. She looked different this time. Her hair was short now, she looked bigger, stronger. But so were you.

Sooyoung got you pretty good the first round, your cheek starting to bruise from a punch she threw. Your leg already in slight pain from a kick and elbow jab.

She moved around you, eyeing to see if you’d look away. She made a move to kick your side, she missed. Your eyes locked with hers and she smirked “wheres your little girlfriend? Lia is it?” You ignored her but she continued talking “she’s pretty that one. Pretty eyes. Soft smile. That cute dimple, she’s cute don’t you think?”

Your opponent continued to taunt you, knowing from her first victory that Lia was your weak spot. You’d gotten quite a few punches and kicks in, but nothing that was putting you at an advantage.

Sooyoung walked up on you this time trying to knock you to the ground. Quickly you maneuvered around her, so now she was the one on the ground. The two of you went at it, dodging slaps, punches, and elbow jabs.

She ended up rolling over so now you were below her, your one arm underneath her leg. Sooyoung delivered a hard punch to your shoulder and she smiled when you winced in pain. She asked “this is what happened last time right? And your little girlfriend watched me damn near beat the life out of you? It’s a shame she’s going to have to see that again don’t you think?”

You felt her fist collide with your side, she without a doubt broke the same ribs she did before. Putting you in a headlock you felt panic rush through your body. Her voice laced with venom “when will you learn? You can’t beat me. I hope you told her you loved her.” Sooyoung swung again knocking you square in the cheek. As your eyes started to flutter shut, breath escaping too fast for more to come in, a familiar voice ripped through the arena “Y/N!”

Lia

Your eyes flew open at the sound of your girlfriend’s panicked screams. With all your strength you jammed your elbow into Sooyoungs side. She let go of you and with all your strength you rolled over, Sooyoung now beneath you. You could see the look of fear in her eye as your fists collided with her body. Seeing nothing but red you continued punching and slapping her, squeezing your thighs around her torso.

Blood spilled from her nose and ear, her lip busted, eye swollen shut. You jabbed her ribs again, letting your strength and anger take control of you. Even when she’s long been unconscious you were still hitting her. Two large referees pulled you off of her, tears stinging your eyes as you cried out of frustration.

The arena fell silent as you all waited to see if Sooyoung would get up, the countdown boomed through the speakers. “3! 2!-” As it was about to hit one Sooyoung’s eyes fluttered open and she staggered to get up. She limped over to you, looking even more angry than she was before.

Sooyoung wiped blood from her eye before saying “you thought it’d be that easy?” Without hesitation you stepped closer before roundhouse kicking her in the temple. She fell to the floor and this time she definitely wasn’t getting up without help. Screams of your name ripped through the arena and you looked at the referee who deemed you the winner.

Still in shock you didn’t really understand what was happening until you were handed the World Champions belt. You posed for the pictures that were to be taken, however you didn’t smile. It was evident that you were still confused.

When the gate to the ring opened you saw Lia and Matthew standing with proud smiles. You dropped the heavy belt into Matthew’s arms as soon as you could. Throwing yourself into Lia’s arms you sobbed heavily, thanking God you were able to walk out victorious.

The small girl under your embrace held you tight, with every passing second she held you closer. Finally she broke and she cried “I was so scared I was going to lose you”. You pulled away and wiped away her tears “I promised you I wasn’t going anywhere.” You held her face in your hands before kissing her again.

The referee shoved you back into the ring, this time Sooyoung was gone. The only traces remaining of the young Korean woman was her blood stained on the floor.

Balloons and confetti rained from the ceiling, people’s shouting your name filled the arena.

“Ladies and gentlemen. We now have our 2020 UFC World Champion! Y/N ‘ALI’ Y/L/N!” You held the championship belt over your non injured shoulder with a smile.

Once again you were the champion.

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #itzy imagines #itzy scenarios #choi jisu #loona imagines #loona scenarios #loona sooyoung #loona yyxy #loona yves #ha sooyoung

50 notes · View notes

honeybunchcalum · 4 years

Text

𝒲𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉- 𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃 𝐵 (part of ptersparkers writing challenge)

I’m a 5sos girl at heart, and this song really fit this fic, so I had to

Summary: John B promises to help Winnie learn to let loose, the process of which involves skinny dipping, a bucket list, and some really good advice (and inevitable flirting, of course).

Pairing: John B x OC

Warnings: language for sure, and some nudity

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: HUGE thank you and credit to @alexandracheers for editing this fic and giving me feedback! She also has a fic for @ptersparkers writing challenge that you should check out!

The main character is based a lot on myself, so for all you borderline uptight and academic overachiever readers, this one’s for you to relate to!

I also aged the pogues up a few years, so all the characters are 18/19.

GIF credit: @sharmans

“What would you do if you weren’t afraid of everything?”

The sun grazed over facial features as it set, blurring some and sharpening others. Yet another day of summer gone, but the opportunity for a hot summer night followed the horizon.

“God, I don’t fucking know, everything and anything! Also, I don’t appreciate that generalization, I’m not afraid of everything,” she trailed off.

“I know you know,” John B said while flopping down onto the towel that he had just finished smoothing out on the sand. “There’s never been a time when Winnie doesn’t have the answer to something… especially when it’s about herself,” he mumbled the modifying words as to make sure she didn’t hear, but she did.

A few seconds later there was a handful of sand sprinkled throughout his curls as she laughed.

Winnie was a “conscientious and goal-driven girl” as every professor of hers had described her. As she’d come to realize, those words are just the nice way of saying “uptight over-achiever.”

She wished she could be something outside of that. Outside of a ‘certificate of achievement,’ or a picture perfect transcript. Do something for once and make a decision or mistake for herself. That’s what she had come down here this summer to do after all, right?

“Fine, then I shall rephrase.” John B shook the revenge-filled sand out of his hair and asked, “What are you afraid of?”

Knowing that would be an easy question for his borderline-uptight friend to answer, he quickly added a condition, “and not the standard ‘failing a paper, looking bad, or not being at the top of whatever-the-fuck class you’re in’ fear.”

“Well, you’ve basically got all my bases covered with those,” she replied. John B raised an eyebrow at the mention of covering her bases.

“You’re so annoying,” slipped out of her mouth accompanied by the obligatory eye-roll. She laid down on her own towel not too far from John B (certainly more gracefully than he had) and looked up at the purpling sky.

The beach was beginning to empty as all the vacationers returned to their rental homes. It was her and John B’s favorite part of the day. They basically had the whole beach to themselves aside from the late-night skinny dippers, but they weren’t due for another few hours.

It was peacefully silent for what felt like hours, just the two of them side by side on the towels that John B always kept in the van for spontaneous beach trips like this.

Winnie started to drift into her daydreams of her future--walking down crowded city streets to the subway in a fashionably professional outfit on her way to the courtroom for her breakthrough case. Then she flipped to her daydream of writing in a cozy coffee shop. Writing about anything and everything--even the hazel-eyed boy beside her and how he just lived, nothing more or less (and sometimes without thinking). But that was just John B, and she felt the need to document it beautifully somehow, and make sure she’d remember him just as he is. She knew she couldn’t get it more right than he was then, right next to her, just as he had been all summer.

“So, what’s your answer?”

“What?” Winnie had already forgotten his question, and was definitely startled.

“To my question... I saw ya thinking there,” John B chuckled and looked up at the sky as well, “unless you were off in your lawyer daydreams again.”

“Well maybe I was, but I also have an answer for you. I can think about multiple things at once, y’know?”

“I know a little bit too well, Winnie. You’re always lost in your thoughts about something,” he replied while playfully touching her arm.

She started to feel a weight on her chest and in her throat, first off because John B was now staring directly at her, and more prominently because she knew her answer all too well, but didn’t want to say it. What if John B didn’t understand, or if it sounded dumb?

“John Booker Routledge,” she spoke strongly, “I am afraid of being ordinary, being stuck and not having the opportunities to do enough fun shit while I’m young, and also worrying too much about all of these things at the same time.”

By the end of her proclamation, Winnie was in tears.

“It sounds...s-so stupid,” she was laughing through some sobs now, “like I’m the one in control of my own life, a-and I can’t get it right. I want to be young and do fun shit, but I-I-just can’t because I feel like-like I know better than to knowingly do something stupid.” Talking through things, even while she was choking out sobs, had always made everything she was feeling make sense.

“Look, you hang out with young and dumb every day,” John B laughingly pointed at himself, “and while I am a bit offended by your ‘ordinary’ fear-”

Winnie cut him off with a sob-filled, “I’m so sorry, John B, I didn’t-”

“I’m kidding, Winnie. I’m getting to my point here…” he reached out and held her shoulders.

“...which is that you don’t know how to let go. And you’re already not ordinary, at least to me. And I can tell ya that JJ, Kie and Pope will tell you the same. I wouldn’t have been hanging out with you every night if you were.”

John B punched her arm to try to clear the seriousness in the air. “C’mon, you don’t really think I’d hang out with someone ordinary and boring, right?”

“Right,” Winnie replied.

“What was that, can you say it again?”

Dripping in sarcasm, Winnie repeated herself, “John B, you’re right.”

“Thank you.”

He turned away from her for a second and glanced at the purple sky that draped over the ocean, seeming to string words together in his mind.

After a few seconds he started, “Coming from me, I feel like you can’t plan everything out. Some shit just happens--shit that you can’t make happen, Winnie, no matter how much of a control freak you are.”

John B was right, she was a bit of a control freak; she’d admit it.

“Like, do you think I was trying to make JJ stealing 25k from a drug dealer happen?”

Now he could chuckle at the memory, and Winnie at the secondhand telling of the story since it seemed so outrageous.

“Everything can’t be picture perfect, Winnie, a lot of things are messy” he was nervously fidgeting, which was very unlike him; John B was always so sure of himself.

“And unexpected, like this--” he raised his hand and flung a clump of sand at Winnie.

She instinctively scoffed, but then laughed. At least it derailed the overly-serious energy that John B created.

“You know, I was really starting to take you seriously, John B.”

“Ouch, Winnie,” he cracked a smile, “Well I’m glad you tried because it was part of my life-changing advice.”

“Which is…?”

“You have to do what you feel is best for you right now. I’ve always told you, you need to be who you are now.”

“And throwing sand at me felt right to you in that moment?”

“Yes. But you have to admit that it’s good advice. My dad would always tell me, and it just stuck with me. So now, I relay it to you.”

Winnie let the words mellow around her mind for a few seconds. It was really great advice, especially for someone like her. She let her eyes scan the beach around her. She had an amazing landscape that was totally memory-worthy right in front of her. And more importantly, she had the time. The time to be here, in the moment, with her best friend.

Although she had only been on the island for a few weeks, Winnie knew there was something special about John B. They were complete opposites in a way--an uptight law student from the city, and an easygoing surfer from the island. But they complemented each other: while she may have read more, he had seen more. And that’s what made them such a good pair.

They could both figure anything out, whether it was Winnie perfecting John B’s college essays and finance records for after his gap year, or the trademark stories of John B escaping trouble on the island.

“Another philosophy I live by is that you should try everything once,” John B started.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that from JJ too,” she smiled, remembering the times in the van that JJ spilled his life philosophies while slightly under the influence.

“Also, at the next kegger, you are definitely hanging with me, I’ll teach you how to have some fun,” John B added, as Winnie agreed, looking forward to it.

-------

After a few seconds, Winnie asked, “So it’s about 8:25, what are we doing right now? And what have you not tried?”

“I see you took my advice to heart. There’s not too much honestly,” he nervously laughed, reminiscing about his countless long nights. “Your wish is my command on this lovely Thursday night. Whatever is on your, what I assume, color-coded bucket list,” he teasingly continued.

Winnie playfully scoffed. “Actually, it’s just highlighted, Mr. Routledge. Anyway.... I choose skinny dipping.” She spoke with a glow in her eyes and no hesitation, maybe she had planned out this moment for a while, waiting for this exact opportunity. But that’s one thing she wouldn’t admit.

John B’s jaw practically dropped to the ground. His eyes widened; she’d managed to pick the one thing he didn’t have experience with, which is impressive.

The two had always poked fun at the nightly ocean skinny dippers; he never thought Winnie had the desire to partake in it.

He ran his hand through his curls in an attempt to conceal his jitters. He would do anything for Winnie, and this is what she wanted. He couldn’t lie to himself--he would only consider something like this with her. As much as she trusted him, John B trusted Winnie.

“No prob, sure, let’s do it,” the brunette slightly rambled.

Winnie undoubtedly picked up on his fault of confidence. “Are you sure? We definitely don’t have to… I mean driving with the windows down is also pretty high up on my list.”

“Yeah,” he flashed a reassuring smile. One full of serenity and comfort. He pulled his t-shirt off as Winnie did the same, along with her shorts. The two awkwardly looked at each other, as if searching for each other’s cue to continue. Winnie gave John B an up-and-down glance, to which he knowingly turned around with an, “oh, yeah,” so she could further undress.

It was dark enough on the shore now for the teens to be unrecognizable, but Winnie ensured that the towels they were currently wrapped in would be waiting for them right in front of the tide lines, in case the need for a quick escape dawned.

There was an unspoken promise between them that lustful stares would not be exchanged, but quick glimpses would be inevitable. With that, towels were dropped, and John B started the countdown to rush into the water. Before “one,” Winnie already took off running towards the calm waves.

By the time she was up to her knees, she was yelling, “Holy shit! That’s cold! Oh my God!”

Seconds later John B was yelling the same before they both had dipped underwater to get used to the temperature. They came up from underwater with their faces almost inches apart. Their eyes locked for a moment. Nervous laughter followed as Winnie moved backwards, not remembering to keep her arm over her chest.

“Shit, uh, sorry,” John B looked away from Winnie.

“It’s okay,” she giggled, “I don’t really care. I also don’t think there’s really a way to prevent that.”

Within a second, John B had started a splash war, and the rare serious energy dissipated.

Ten minutes in the cold night ocean was more than enough. Luckily, no late-night walkers stumbled upon their antics. Now they sat on the sand peacefully wrapped in their towels. Winnie cuddled into John B’s chest. It felt as though time had stopped in her mind, yet the ocean continued, as did the waves and the heartbeat of her best friend both pounding in her ears. John B was warm, sweet, and wise. Especially now, with his curls a perfectly-laid sopping mess and his chest so comforting, the warmth took over. Winnie sought to ingrain this feeling into her mind.

John B admired Winnie as the towel adorned her chest and the dull glow of the night slightly illuminated her face. He couldn’t deny it--she was very pretty.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and looked down towards the girl on his chest. “I knew you could let go, and not give a fuck, you don’t need me, Winnie.”

“No you did not know that,” she protested, “you’d told me I didn’t know how to let go like, 10 minutes ago.”

“Ok, yeah I did say that. But… would an uptight Winnie suggest skinny dipping, get me to do it with her, and also play it cool when I accidentally saw her boob?”

Winnie thought about it: John B was right. In the moment, without overthinking, she did know how to let go and do whatever felt right to her at the time.

“No…” she responded.

“So you’re not uptight! I proved it to you, and I didn’t even have to argue with you about it-- HA!” John B retorted, pulling away from Winnie so he could now look her directly in the eye.

“I guess, yeah. But you did go in the ocean with me, naked, for me to get to this realization.”

“Were you just trying to get me naked?” John B jokingly gasped.

Doubled down in laughter, Winnie managed to respond, “No, definitely not, but you did it willingly, which was a win.”

“Well, I can say I did it.” John B seemed content, and he truly meant it. You should try everything once, right?

“I’ve got the van radio and windows rolled down and ready for us, if you so desire.”

“Why of course, Mr. Routledge, my prince charming, please fire up our carriage.” Winnie smiled, which was a repeated pattern throughout the whole night. The tears from earlier were forgotten, with aches from smiling too much replacing them.

They practically jumped into John B’s van, scantily clad, with Winnie’s hand already on the radio knob. She turned it to a station playing a summer song that would eventually become overplayed within the next few months, but that was ok. Maybe better, even, since each inevitable time this song was on, it would remind her of tonight.

Tonight. He’d truly seen her as a person, physically and emotionally now, with ease. He saw her as someone more than just an uptight student, and she realized that maybe she wasn’t always uptight, after all. He was willing to put aside his apprehensions and trust her, just as she’d come to trust him.

With the windows rolled down, and the radio almost unbearably loud, Winnie felt bliss. True and uninhibited, like this is what she was meant to be doing with John B, at this moment in time.

Winnie’s eyes couldn’t resist scanning John B’s frame next to her. The way his calloused hands gripped the steering wheel, the flex of his arms, his wet caramel hair regaining its curl, and most notably, the smooth and tanned skin of his chest. He was damn gorgeous. And now gazing over at her.

“Shit, he noticed me staring,” she thought. But he didn’t seem fazed or embarrassed by her gaze at all. He flicked her the trademark John B smile. “Like what ya see?” He gave an eyebrow raise.

“Oh, shut up,” she spit back and turned the radio up even further, starting to scream the lyrics to the catchy song. She felt the wind blow in her hair as the roads she drove down each day gained a newfound beauty.

-------

“I’m beat,” Winnie exasperatedly stated once John B pulled the van up to the Chateau.

“Yeah me too, that’s enough ‘young and dumb’ for tonight. You don’t mind sharing the pull-out with Kie, right? I kinda forgot she was staying over tonight...”

“Yeah, no prob,” Winnie responded. She really didn’t mind sharing with Kie, but secretly wished John B would invite her to his bed for the night.

She opened the screen door of the house, and after she got ready for bed, practically flopped on the pull-out couch.

Kie groggily groaned, “Ugh, Winnie don’t do that, I’m tryna sleep. Why are you back so late anyway?”

“Sorry, beach night with JB,” Winnie whispered, only to realize that the girl beside her was already asleep again. Winnie was practically shaking from her excitement as she looked back on her night, especially after John B threw a “g’night Winnie” her way.

------

Winnie knew she had slept too late when she’d woken up without Kie next to her, probably already at the Wreck for the breakfast shift. She stood up and made her way to the bathroom, peeking around to make sure that only John B was in the house and Pope or JJ hadn’t made a surprise visit.

She’d wanted to make a move last night. Especially when he’d caught her staring. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror to psych herself up: it was now or never.

She rounded the corner to John B’s room and knocked on the doorframe, since he always left the door open. John B sat up and gave a raspy, “hey, Winnie.”

She cut to the chase, as she sat down next to him on his bed. “I think I overthought something I shouldn’t have last night.”

“Yeah, yeah, shoot, what is-”

Winnie cut him off with a kiss that was well-received. His lips molded to hers as his hand moved to her cheek and then to her hair. He pulled away.

“Funny enough, that’s something that’s actually been on my bucket list, too.”

“Well, I’m happy we’re efficient in crossing things off our list,” Winnie smiled into another kiss, now being the one to pull away.

She was on her way to living the life she wanted.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tagging some of my mutuals: @noshamenion @darkrosekuwonu @cccatz @poguelifesurfshop @maybankiara @tothemoonmikey @singledadharrington @kindapinkskies @outerbanqs

#pp writing challenge #John B Routledge x OC #John B x OC #John B #John B Outer Banks #John B Outer Banks fanfic #Outer Banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks fic #OBX #obx fics #obx john b #obx john b x oc #john b x original character

33 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

The Haunt of Redemption (10)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 10: Return of the Jedi | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 | Previous: Chapter 9 | Next: Chapter 11 | Masterlist

10 of 11

Not only did Cal feel the emotions that you allowed him to feel again, you showed him the memories that truly mattered. He was seeing everything in your point of view.

He saw himself—his old self—leaning against the broken wall of the Vault’s outer enclave, staring at the sunset upon Bogano. It was as if he was reliving the memory of his past self—he felt your hand slipping into his, in return, you clutch it back as both of you peered at the suns sinking behind the mesa.

However, your vulnerability allowed him to intrude beyond that line. He found you inside a house that he’s never seen before and he caught a glimpse of the Holocron being hidden away in a box by a pair of hands; before the slip-up could get any worse and expose Obi-Wan with the Holocron, you pushed him out and erected the same wall.

The vision ended and he jerked his hand away at the abrupt jab of light, a deep buzzing sound cracked in his ears as he shifted back into reality. The Grand Inquisitor saw how the Eleventh Brother appear disoriented—surely, he must have gotten some results.

“Well?!”

“I… I saw it… it was being kept away someplace.”

“Where is it? Where is that place?!”

“I… I don’t know…” the boy shuddered.

As he stepped into the light, it terrified you more when he got closer to you. Your lip shivered in fear, goosebumps pelted your skin, and the hairs at the back of your neck stood up. The Grand Inquisitor shoved Cal away and stood eye-to-eye with you.

“I see,” he purred. Then through his jagged, pointed teeth, he hissed. “With the Holocron nowhere to be found, yet the boy claims that you’ve seen its contents, perhaps not all is lost after all.”

“I can see that your overconfidence is your best asset,” you spat.

“Charming,” a sarcastic smile crawled about his lip pale, ivory lips. With a flicking gesture of his fingers, the operator pushed the button and the shock was so sharp that your spine arched against the bed. “You will either tell us what we want to know or you die in this very contraption.”

“Maybe I’ll go with… PISS OFF!”

“Very well,” he sighed, sarcastically rolling his eyes. He abruptly turned to the operator and barked. “Set the voltage level to five!”

Another notch turned, followed by the press of a button. The two conduits hummed as it closed in on your body. As the cold, metal pads pressed against the flesh below your collarbone, the only thing you’re able to do is suck in a huge dollop of air and release a gut-wrenching scream so loud that your throat has gotten dry from all the crying. Your body jerked in response to the high voltage—your knees buckled, your wrist pivoted underneath the cuffs, and the agonizing throes of your body to all sides rattled the machine itself.

The Grand Inquisitor threw his fist in the mid-air, signaling the operator to pause, and interrogated you again. There was a sinister glint in his eyes at the instance of an afterthought.

“You know, there is another proposition that may perhaps be of great benefit for either party,” he sniggered. He didn’t await a reply from you, and so he continued. “Join our ranks, I’ll let you live and you will be of better use to me, far better than that traitorous Jedi, Cere Junda.”

“You don’t know Cere! She is a far better warrior than you could ever be!”

“Such misplaced faith, such misguided strength,” he subtly turned to Cal. “Now, I see why he was so eager to take you in because he told me you’d prove me of something—and I’m beginning to see it just now.”

You glanced over the taller Inquisitor’s shoulder to find Cal, he stood there, his eyes avoided you in the brief second that your gazes met.

“I’m impressed that the Eighth Sister spoke highly of you,” the Pau’an added. “As matter of fact, it’s a first for her! She never really liked competition.”

“Send her my regards then,” you spat.

“So, [y/n], what will it be? Die a ‘noble’ death here or see the true magnitude of your power—something that the Jedi nor your Master was ever able to unravel for you!”

Another shock. Your body is gradually growing numb from the electricity coursing throughout your body, your muscles are now suffering from spasms, your heart rate is three levels above normal—any more and it would get touch the critical level—and your breathing labored as you endure the pain.

“That high pain threshold is quite impressive. Not many can live beyond six,” he sniggered. “Notch the setting to seven!”

“No… NO!!!”

As the level of the shock increases, it went from mild to excruciating. Your muscles sprained due to your thrashing, you could feel your nerves burning at the intensity, every limb in your body jerked and curled at the mercy of the voltage.

“Well, he was right about one thing. You are strong, indeed. I am only keeping you alive because he told me that you can be of use to me.

“CAL… PLEASE!!” you cried out, throwing your head back to release an ear-shattering, painful scream.

The sensation was similar to being burned alive, except this one packed a bigger punch—since electricity consumes the body slower than fire, therefore it causes the victim to suffer for longer while still being partially-alive depending on their pain tolerance.

“What’s it going to be, child?!”

“I am a Jedi…! You can never break me!”

“I often find heroics quite dull,”

The indigo cracks of voltage danced before your eyes, your vision has blurred and you could only make out the colors and the silhouettes of those in the chamber. Cal shirked farther back in the room, he was slowly dissolving into the shadows from your perspective, and your cries of pain mixing with the call of his name were agonizing and stomach-churning.

He averted his eyes, even shut them tight with his hands tucked behind his back, and struggled to ignore your cries for help.

“CAL… HELP ME…!!”

Involuntarily and suddenly, a memory that the two of you shared played before his eyes. He saw you clinging on the edge of a cliff after a Nydak destroyed the stone pillar you used as a stepping stone. Your fingers were digging into the muck but you were slipping away.

“Cal, help me!”

“I got you! Don’t worry, baby… I got you!”

The memory of him running to you, grabbing you on both arms to pull you back up. He catches you in his arms in the final tug and cradled you.

An energy he has been unknowingly piling up was almost too much for him to contain. This energy rooted from all kinds of emotions—hate, pain, and anger.

“No…” he mouthed, his eyelids relaxing but keeping closed.

“HELP ME…!”

The Grand Inquisitor has sensed it, but reacted too late. Cal released perhaps the strongest wave of energy, inflicting Mass Push and Empowered Slow in quick succession on everybody in the room except for you, he switched on BD-1 using the Force and ran to you. While the little droid took a minute to reboot his entire system, Cal unbuckled the restraints as quickly as he can. Your body, limp and exhausted from enduring all that pain, fell away from the machine.

“I got you …!” Cal gasped as he caught you.

“Cal…?” you struggled to open your eyes, a blurry image of his face filled your sight.

“Don’t worry, baby, I got you…! Can you stand?”

You didn’t answer, you struggled to stand and Cal supported you by wrapping your arm around his shoulder. Both of you hobbled away from the machine and to the door. Apparently, the effect of Cal’s abilities against the Grand Inquisitor wore off sooner than the rest.

“YOU WEAK, INSOLENT COWARD!” The Grand Inquisitor bellowed while trying to break free, you and Cal were taken by surprise when you saw the Pau’an flexing and stretching his neck and shoulders.

Knowing he had to think fast, he used the Force to pull your lightsaber resting on the control terminal and handed it over to you; he also found that BD-1’s back to full function.

“BD-1, come on!”

When the little droid saw that Cal was helping you, he made a quick, cheerful chirp and flew towards the both of you with his turbojets and perched onto Cal’s shoulder.

“Yeah, buddy, I got you!” he patted the little droid’s head and it chirped in response.

BD-1 voluntarily popped out a stim for you, which Cal caught in the air and injected right into you, hoping that the substance would help you recover enough strength to fight.

“Here,” Cal hands over your lightsaber. “Can you fight?”

A smirk curled at the corner of your mouth as you turned to face him and the both of you traded nods—an unspoken conversation that only you and Cal know the words to.

Your lightsabers ignited and hummed in unison, the both of you positioned into a defensive-offensive stance. It was two against one, though the Grand Inquisitor appeared to be unfazed by the odds. Both parties lunged at one another, the Pau’an deflected both sabers on each side and despite your combined strength, he didn’t back down—rather, he shifted all his weight against the two of you, and the dark warrior loomed over the two young Jedi.

For every jab either of you have for him, he always had a way to parry it. His skill was commendable, but it was also irritating and frustrating.

“Your skills pale against mine! I am more powerful than any Jedi combined!”

“Does he always gab this much when fighting?” you remarked. “It’s annoying, really.”

Cal smiled to himself. He almost hate to admit he missed your sarcasm.

“YOUR BLIND FAITH OF A FALLEN ORDER SHALL BE YOUR DOWNFALL!” The Grand Inquisitor snarled, in addition, he produced his ignited lightsaber in retaliation. The halo that encircled the hilt started spinning in a dramatic speed.

This time, it was the Grand Inquisitor who was in the offensive. He was more adept in using the aggressive, acrobatic forms—you detected a mix of Forms IV and VII, Ataru and Vaapad respectively—and he always managed to keep up with your next attacks, it’s as if he’s foreseen it before you could even make the move. The only thing you had against the Grand Inquisitor is your numbers; if you could overwhelm the Inquisitor with alternating attacks between you and Cal, it would confuse him and lose his focus—even for just a minute or a second, it counts.

You were on the defensive side of the duel; meanwhile, Cal sent a flurry of attacks in the Grand Inquisitor’s way—he attacked with a medley of fast-paced flourishes and spins, at the end of his figure-eight spin he stopped with a backhand that acted as a deflect against the Inquisitor’s overhead strike.

“[Y/N]!!” He simply called.

Cal made sure there was enough space between him and the enemy, he also timed in dropping his lightsaber to the most precise split second, enough for you to slide into the space between them and catching the falling saber altogether—when the black hilt fell into your grasp, the slightest turn of the wrist pointed this blade against the Grand Inquisitor and you slashed him across the shins.

“Agh!” the Grand Inquisitor exclaimed as the saber seared through his greaves.

You couldn’t help the feeling but celebrate in-battle—it was a bad habit, whenever you know you have taken the upper hand that is when you start partying inside your mind while still flinging a lightsaber at the enemy.

He fell to the floor, on his knees, but he was still able to deflect your overhead strike. He stood upright again in the small window of a second after he fell to the ground and was back in action. He focused more on Cal, hell-bent on destroying his former protégé who turned tail at the last minute. Crimson blades torched the darkness and the collision produced a fountain of sparks. The Grand Inquisitor did a cheap shot and jabbed Cal in the jaw with his able, the boy stumbled and it was the Pau’an’s chance to strike—but you quickly deprived him that when you directed your Force-Halt on him.

The Grand Inquisitor remained cemented, with his body still as a statue, and you ran up to him with a downward slash followed by the hardest kick your leg could muster. The impact of his fall was so hard that the gray little discs attached to his ears fell off, all of a sudden, a hybrid of high-pitched white noise and a deep, low buzzing entered his eardrums and nauseated him. The two of you backed away as you watched the Pau’an writhe on the floor with his hands padding his ears, your eyes searched for the gray ear discs and kicked it to the farthest side of the chamber.

“Come on, we gotta get out of here!” you cried.

The two of you made a run for it, Cal destroyed the control panel and the door froze in a partially-opened state. Vaulting through the sizable gap that the door left, the next gauntlet was getting past the bridge. A Stormtrooper punched the alarm before joining the fray, you and Cal easily cut through the numbers and sped across the bridge until you’ve reached the other side.

“[y/n], help me with this!”

Both of you tore the bridge apart by severing its connection until it was fully dismembered from the main platform. The bridge groaned as it became a slope upon its collapse, bringing down the Stormtroopers with it. Cal led you to the elevator and searched for the right button in the middle of a panic, he crunched a button of that eventually led you to a series of corridors.

“Cal, where are you taking us!?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Just now, actually!”

“Then follow my lead!”

For every one out of three turns in a hallway, you are met with a patrol of Stormtroopers who are now vigilant due to the high alert that’s been set off.

“Wait, there they are!”

Cal fished out a thermal detonator from his utility belt and tossed it right into the spot filled with Stormtroopers and then used the Force to shut the door until the bomb went off. A muffled explosion quaked the corridors and the siren howled in a continuous tone. With Cal on the lead, you covered the flank, cutting the path between yourselves and the units of Stormtroopers on your trail.

Your running speed has noticeably slowed down, you could barely keep up with Cal and looking over your shoulder to check if there are enemies behind you.

Come on, [y/n], come on! You coaxed yourself mentally. The exhaustion was eating away at your body for every step you take.

Along the way, you and Cal alternately destroyed the control panels of the doors that you’ve passed by, further cutting off the Stormtroopers chasing you.

“Here, [y/n], here!”

You come across a control room, but you emptied it of Stormtroopers and a single Imperial security droid. Cal approached and peered through the wide windows.

“There’s the hangar!” Cal pointed. “I think we can hijack a shuttle there and get the hell out of—!”

He turned around, his smile that was filled with the hope of a successful escape melted the moment he saw you fumbling to the ground and clutching your torso.

“[y/n], are you okay?” he ran up to you and caught you once again in his arms.

You didn’t tell Cal, but the successive exhaustion of being tortured via electrocution, being caught in combat, and now in the middle of a hot pursuit during a breakout has taken its toll on your body.

“Cal…” you fought between speaking and breathing, managing a tender cooing tone. “My baby… save yourself…”

“No, I’m not leaving you! Not when we’re so close!”

The response he received from you is your labored breathing, struggling to hold on for dear life.

A violent tremor shook the entire structure, the bridge must have totally gone down and damaged the lower levels. Subsequently, the destruction would cascade down to the fortress’s core; if you’re not quick enough, you might as well go down with the building.

“Come on, up you go!”

Cal scooped you up in his arms and sprinted through the hallway that leads to the shuttle hangar. He gently put you down behind some crates and fought off the guards blocking his way to the ship.

“There’s the traitor, stop him!”

A team of Stormtroopers led by a Purge Trooper rifleman blasted away at Cal, the barrage overwhelmed him and he didn’t exactly have Cere and her Force field to shield him from the hail of bullets. He banked the bullets back to their senders but a gunner from the upper platform sniped at his lightsaber with a charged shot—supposedly his head but his hand slipped.

The destroyed lightsaber clattered next to your feet and Cal slipped to the covers with you. You ripped open a concealed section on the right leg of your cargo pants and fished something out of it.

It was Cal’s lightsaber.

“You idiots didn’t search me,” you lightly thumped his head with the emitter as you sniggered.

He held your face and pulled you in for a kiss—it was abrupt, but you could feel the press of his lips against yours.

“I’m glad we didn’t!”

He ignited his true lightsaber, the radiant beam shone over the gloss of his eyes, and a grin stretched from ear-to-ear.

Now back in action, Cal banked the next shot at the sniper; vaulting over the crates, he carved a path to the group of Stormtroopers who were backing away in fear of the one-man army. He took down the leader Purge Trooper and then pulled all of his enemies around him, the lightsaber flew in a fan-like motion, tearing down the Stormtroopers in a single sweep. He returned to you behind the crates and found you unconscious, he checked for a pulse—there was, but it was weak.

“Come on, sweetie, up we go!”

He scooped you again bridal-style and slammed the door button open. Upon entering, he headed for the lounge and laid you down on the couch, kissed your forehead and then darted to the cockpit. BD-1 hopped over on the dashboard and watched Cal work his magic on the ship—a crank of the main power lever that wired the ship to life, and then lightning-fast pace of typing the coordinates and prepping the ship for hyperspace both at the same time. BD-1 noticed another team of Stormtroopers flooding the hangar and shooting the ship, he alerted Cal in a string of frenzied trills.

“I know, BD, I see them!”

He turned the analog stick of the guns in the direction of the Stormtroopers and sent them flying in a single blast. Not wasting a moment’s notice, Cal hovered the ship and made the jump to lightspeed as soon as he got enough altitude from the crumbling fortress.

“Boo, woop?”

“It’s okay now, BD. We’re going home.”

Cal caressed little BD’s head, profusely apologizing to what he did to his first friend and even touched the little droid’s flat, rectangular head with his forehead.

55 notes · View notes